7
Bakugo rolled over in his sleeping bag, looking over, allowing himself only a second to scan, he could hear a low buzz of music again in those red headphones.
He grumbled. Why did he feel the nerve to do such a thing?
To loudly and abruptly interrupt them.
He was a yell'er. He loved that about himself. His way or no way!! But this!
This was using his voice, his personality, and not all the way for something for himself. He internally spat at it. He kept coating it and coating it, like a woman does with that sickly nail polish with layers of 'needing a flashlight to see'.
But, he knew that wasn't entirely it.
He had a respect for the idiot.
If being honest, which Bakugo was, he always did what he said and spoke truth, Kasaya's quick thinking saved all their shit.
Saved it from going bad.
Getting wet.
It was 10:30 at night now and Cementos still wasn't here. Lights weren't on.
He watched the guy roll out of the roll-out bed and mess with his bun, tightening it behind his head, a few hair strands that fell quickly going behind ears.
Bakugo looked away. Why?
His god damn gaze. His own eyes bothered him.
He just kept staring into this enigma that as it went along... made less and less sense, but, he finally could pin point why he thought that: The blue headed Kasaya was hypocritical.
What the roommate did and how he acted, was different completely than what was 'actually' going on in the moron's head, the quick room-save spoke that out.
He didn't even think he'd possessed the ability to think so acutely quick.
And, at least this time, with that girl, that was a straight forward give away. Nothing hypocritical to that though.
Between the obvious avoiding mumbles and him knowing he'd been in a past horrible relationship, like it mattered, because it didn't, this was that only thing about him that defined him in his eyes aside from hypocrisy now.
Nothing else did.
His description still fairly blank in his head, still not having a single thing that bothered him, he'd decided, even after their disagreement, albeit mild in the room with water running all over the floor.
It was damn obvious that his roommate wasn't in the mood, nor in the correct mindset for a lady, and avoided them like World War 3.
Bakugo could almost say 'welcome to the club' on that one, but what did it matter? So? They both were avoiding needless relationships.
Big fucking deal.
Kasaya sighed peeling something apart. "Fuck. Got any paper?" He broke down and asked the other, headphones lowered just a bit on the ears. He hadn't wanted to speak with him. He had been just face buried in phone, texting his brother about what happened, laying on his stomach shirtless in the roll out bed.
The storm, Cementos, Iida, Kaminari, his almost accident, Ibara, Bakugo yelling that was all the subject matter.
It mainly resulted in Hisashi telling him to just calm down, everything will be okay, and it was. Kasaya had went and slunk off to have a swig of liquor somewhere; snapped off a few 3 oz's in their shared bathroom.
He'd wandered down the hall flashlight in tow, opened the locked room door, waded through the ankle deep water digging through his hidden box in his bottom dresser drawer, shut the bathroom door, (using the bathroom also while standing in the cold water), and downed the two little bottles of vodka so fast, jamming the trash back in his shorts pocket.
His brother had said in message that, 'A bro stuck it out for him.' Referring to Bakugo yelling down the hall.
Yeh.
He had noticed something... strange: That fiery glare.
It was on her.
Like he was shooting daggers. Maybe he had heard what they were talking about? Kasaya didn't want to ask though, didn't want to talk about shit. But the thought that Bakugo somehow 'got him out' wasn't listed under the normal functions that he usually walked, and this perplexed Kasaya.
Maybe underneath it all, somehow he unusually did save his ass. But if he did, what did that mean?
Kasaya had no idea. His yelling was normal as Bakugo had carried on about the normal too: selfishly not being able to see without a light and wanting a pathway upstairs.
His brother was proposing an idea that just felt so false.
It meant that for once, for the first time ever, since they'd lived together, that there was a chance that he might of done something not-so selfish.
Kasaya just wanted to leave it at that... as he asked for paper. He didn't want to push the limits. But somehow he still had to get some work done. Those paragraphs won't re-write themselves, so asking biker dude for some paper was the only option he had.
Surprisingly, a hand slammed at least 20 pages in a hap-hazard stack on top the coffee table, at the very edge, and the fist simply slunk back down into the abyss of darkness below the left side of the coffee table where the realm of the blonde was spread out neatly across the floor over there.
Like a kraken falling back into the deeps of the sea more-less.
Kasaya soundless grabbed the papers, with no thank you. Bakugo hadn't said anything, just fuckin' slammed them on the damn table like a brut, so he just did the same grabbed them with no speech, and propped the flashlight up and began to write.
It was an hour straight that he'd been writing, his right hand weak. He dropped the pen.
Cementos still not here.
Kasaya's head fell back on the couch, taking his red headphones off, the buzz of rap music just a bit louder, letting his bun out, tying it back up tighter at the back of his head, rubbing his temples, scratching his bare shoulder, threw a forearm over his head, entreating the corner of his right eye under it to what Bakugo was doing, which was reading in a textbook and highlighting a few notes. He could see him as Bakugo was using his phone's flashlight for light.
'Lucky.' He really was so lucky. He grumbled and exasperatedly scooted to more comfortable position on his back on the couch, opening his phone to no messages, then closed his eyes altogether. His orbs were shooting spasms all across his front forehead for trying to read and write in such low light.
Bakugo glanced up at the sound. He witnessed the other fall over in an exhausted way, cursing deeply under his breath. It had something to do with what he was doing he betted.
What was he doing anyway? He's been sitting in that location for nearly an hour and a half, bent at such an odd angle for someone's back to be in, (the coffee table was rather short-legged), and into wet papers, turning pages, peeling them, and writing... writing.
Mild curiosity.
Did B classes have the same work as Hero Classes? Hero Class'ers were top rank, but on par with how Blue Balls was aggravatingly treating it, it looked like it was a pain in the asshole.
He wondered who taught their classes. Were their teachers stricter than Hero Class?
None of the work quite mattered to him, he was proud that he was better, but he was at least a tad wondering about it.
He kept telling himself it was just that he was B Class. Not that he'd overheard how Kaminari and him were talking about him rising in rank.
Can't be.
He was just interested in lower class work to see if they were a threat.
That was all.
Somehow.
He felt that internal twinge though... the one he got when he felt like he was lying.
The navy headed moron muttering 'fuck' so many times in a row was getting not necessarily on Bakugo's nerves, as he cussed too much for even a sailor as well, but it was more so just becoming an ever present, consistent obviousness.
Blue Bun looked burned.
'Blue Bun.' His mind repeated. It was a closer representation he supposed. Not as abrasive. The guy had balls, that he admitted, that he knew, big ones, unlike Deku, he didn't cry about shit, he unfaltering and blank, stood up to face it unwavering and chewed it out.
But constantly calling and referring to him in his head as a gross ballsack all the time was getting a little old, especially since he come to gather his gumption in life was at least to power through it, waver through the shit and all.
Perseverance of the stark unemotional kind.
Another thing, to as to his description, and still not anything to chew someone out over, or hate or despise. Rolling eyes, he grumbled.
Realism had long ruined it. The fun was over with the Blue Balls pun.
Kasaya yawned.
The blonde's mouth piped in that second before he could catch it: "Tired?"
Suddenly the words on Bakugo's printout became hazed. Just like they did a few weeks ago, this time out of abrupt realization.
WHAT. THE. FUCK. Had he just heard himself blurt out a question?
It was like the bemused groans of the other had egged him on to just say something. How irritating!
"Yeh, sucks." Kasaya responded. Unsure at first to say anything. Had Bakugo just spit out a question and it was addressed to him? And was it not laced with something about something he wanted?
He laid on couch unmoving. Startled, but too swirled with confusion to move, idlly just listening to the rap song switch on his phone's downloaded music, eventhough his headphones weren't on his ears, just haphazardly jostled around his neck.
Under his forearm he popped open a small slit of gray eye to watch Bakugo sit up, elbows on the coffee table, staring down at the work he had spread out all over the coffee table.
He watched red eyes, cast in shadow from the dark, barely lit room, work over all the loose leaf, inspecting it all. He wondered what type of thoughts were going through that head, if any at all.
Kasaya knew he knew quite a bit about him, but yet, maybe he didn't know anything at all. He knew it looked like a hot mess all over the table, definitely not as straight as the other kept things, that might be a thought going through that brain, Satoko assumed.
Bakugo hadn't wanted do anything. But there was no denying it. It was his voice that had shot out a word in the form of a question in the other's direction.
'God damnit.' He sat up. His word went to action.
It was like he was loosing out to his own internal desire and selfish want to 'kind of' know what B class homework was, in combination with his roommate being an easy route to such, it was too much for him to ignore.
Enticed. He wanted to be #1.
He wanted to know what he was up against.
After all, he viewed himself as a predator, and he wanted to maintain that status, forever, as well as learning what he could about the lower classes.
Exactly how far down on the chain were they? What if they weren't?
What if his roommate wasn't?
"What is it?" Bakugo asked lamely, almost disinterestedly, pushing a button to look at the time on his phone. He tried to play it off like he was just bored or something. He actually kind of was, had been anyway.
And that was what Kasaya was thinking also. 'Bored. He must be.' Before, when they had the unflooded room, if the firey explosion was bored, that he'd never know, never come to realize, as the blonde kept himself just as busy as Kasaya kept himself.
But this is a different situation, they didn't have the room. If Bakugo got bored and was limited on what he was exposed to and where he could go, what did that mean?
Ashley would just over-dramatize and stir stuff up to entertain herself. He hoped that Bakugo was not like that. So far, seemed like what he got stirred up about was just stuff that bothered him, or flat out pissed him off.
Which at least, there's honesty in that.
Honest. Unlike the person who'd controlled him.
His brother had text: Each person is different.
Kasaya was beginning to see it. Just a bit. "Essay." He kept it to short words, as always. "It got wet."
"Hn." He heard Bakugo mouth. Putting his phone down on the coffee table. Boldly, Bakugo stood, in that slacker tough guy posture Kasaya was so used to seeing: back arched, hands in pockets, (odd this time though because he wasn't wearing his uniform pants with the posture but long athletic shorts), head cocked to the side, chin tilted, hair spiky-ish, ridiculous.
Except, only to sit back down on the couch far from Kasaya, eyes shooting over the papers.
The essay did look kind of bad, Bakugo's mind jested, the ink was really messed up on it. "How many pages?"
He heard Kasaya breathe in and sigh. Another answer to another strange question. "25."
He watched Bakugo pick up a page with the tips of his fingers, the light coming across it slowly as he rotated it to face him.
With his body motionless, only red eyes shifted right to look upon the shirtless form. And in it, Bakugo realized a gray eye was staring at him from under the forearm.
Their eyes met for a split second.
Kasaya felt a buzz like he had in the room, warming him a bit from his colder than normal body leftover the last emotion control still there. It was that surge of knowing that someone 'knew' you were looking at them.
He knew Bakugo was checking to see it if there was any change in his expression for touching his stuff.
Was this crossing the 'line'? Wait. The line was over for the night... right?
He'd declared it.
Nevertheless, Kasaya didn't care if he lit it on fire at this point, mother fucker could do whatever, damn, he'd take the failing grade!
He was exhausted.
He moved the hand attached to the arm covering his eyes ever so slightly to suggest an uncaring response, then watched the red eyed one blink and move his eyes back, starting to move them back and forth.
That... was intense. Kasaya silently swallowed.
Like, but unlike in the room, when their eyes had met. Then, it had been in a different light, one of mixed emotions, when Kasaya had felt mostly like he was gunna get blown to bits, it had been anger that flashed through those red eyes, and he'd been in on the delivering side of it.
He let out a breath closing his eyes. It terrified him.
But this, it was those same exact eyes, but different. The same intensity, but a different emotion.
That was another addition to him that he had never pegged to him: Intense.
The shirtless one's mind mulled: How could someone's eyes so drastically change? Or was it that he was just overwhelmed?
Kasaya early on had got that everything about him was strongly 'there'. Even when he banged around in the room like a rabid ape, he was unavoidable. And as much as Kasaya tried to 'play' like he didn't notice, he still did. He just ignored it.
But now meeting his eyes. Twice in the same night.
He realized. His roomate's eyes. If someone could even catch them, as Bakugo never looked up and around, he looked at the ground all the time, were just like Bakugo himself: Truthful.
Bakugo's red eyes, maybe demonic and frightening when that tone was in them, literally shaking you to the core, showed his emotions, clear.
Emotions Kasaya wished he'd had more of. He was too jaded from everything, emotions he felt but flat they were.
But staring into those orbs, both times they'd been so clear that it pulled something out of him. Actual deep emotions. One Kasaya wished he didn't have to feel again: Fear, and this time as he'd stared down holding the edge of his paper?
Timid. He'd felt... timid.
It was curious. How?
He felt nothing strong these days.
How could he, Bakugo. The asshole. Dredge them up?
Kasaya stared into the darkness of his closed eyes, shivering. As deeply surging as Bakugo's stares pulled him for some reason, he fell right back down into blankness, musing in mind, 'He must be just bored to fuckin' hell.'
He was a Hero Classe'er for the Gods sake.. all Triple A students. Mega smart, brainaics that in modern television are only regarded as living off nothing but caffeine, but soon Kasaya realized was false as he'd moved in with all of them.
Smirking inwardly, Bakugo vowed it was the perfect time to delve into foreign lands to see exactly what the B's were up to. But quite quickly, Bakugo found himself quite lost. He wasn't thinking internally anymore things like: 'This is an okay metaphor.' or 'This sentence needs restructured.', as he read, instead, he got gripped.
Just lost in the words on the pages.
Kasaya's thought process was grasping.
It was a paper about a study on the human mind, and about how altering the mind can bring about change in the person's behavior, opening up the mind to have more use, functionality.
Psychology to point, but also research. In depth research. Something like this had to of been researched for at least a month.
Written with such vigor and velocity, Bakugo instinctly reached on the table and felt for the second page, just dropping the first back down. It was the material that shifted him, but it was also the style.
He could tell that his roommate was innately woven into it's fibers, (and for some reason), a deep sense of care was coming through.
That was just it.
Moved. He felt... moved.
He's grabbed for the 10th page by the time Kasaya said the word, "Stop."
"Hah?" Bakugo's mouth fell open. He was instantly yanked viciously out of whatever he was in. He felt like he'd been in some 'state'.
Consumed. By the words. Entranced by it.
It was better than some of his classmate's work in language arts. Indeed, B Class was not far behind at all. Or... maybe it was just this guy.
"Have to finish writing." He probably shouldn't of said stop, it was too much of a command! But, there wasn't resistance.
He watched Kasaya grumble sitting back up, yanking around headphones that were still going. The whole time Bakugo just realized, he'd been just laying on the couch resting. Huge bags were under his eyes.
Kasaya was feeling a bit antsy. He was just closing his eyes, not asleep, but just relaxing, as he knew what his feisty roommate was doing.
Reading. Reading his essay.
Not as if he was out to seek his approval, not because he'd asked him to. But... because he just was.
"I'll write out the rest."
"What?" Kasaya's throat came dry. Did he just hear what he think he did?
Bakugo was still looking into the paper. He was re-reading over some things on the 10th page.
"Go to sleep or something." Was the only mumble.
"My work. My problem." Kasaya muttered out plain, astonished but also confused.
It yanked him as Bakugo shot him a quick glance, their eyes meeting for a half second, sending him a flash of something.
Something.
He'd did it again! He felt, shock. He felt! He felt a deep emotion.
Was this blonde biker-cut offering to help him without actually asking if he wanted it? What the hell! What if his brother... No surely not.
Bakugo wanted the material on the other pages. It was the quickest thing he could think of. 'Just don't let him write out the rest.' If he finished it, he'd get to see it all. A vibe crossed him that it kind of was like spying. "Whatever." The blonde then grabbed the next page off the stack and grabbed the only pen, and began writing on a fresh page. Head going back and forth.
Kasaya's mind fizzled in so many directions. First of all, his professor would know right? That the handwriting was different. It was with the same pen though. Also, why was he so adamant? Bakugo did read through the first ten pages incredibly fast, but he noticed, eyes moving in and out as he peaked from laying down, he had been in fact taking in the material. Maybe it interested him? But never the less, it still was his problem.
It was his essay and research, a topic chosen because of the thoughts he'd had in the classroom when Ibara had first given him that paper. Maybe, he should be researching ways to help himself. Anything. Use homework as a means to do so?
But nevertheless, this was another selfless-ish move from Bakugo.
Kasaya wasn't sure.
It could be looked at two different ways.
It was bordering the line of 'helping a bro out'. As his brother said. Did Bakugo feel like he owed him? He firmly established that he hated to owe someone something, shit, Kasaya hated owing someone something too.
"You don't owe me." It came out, exactly as he's been thinking.
"No. I don't." A bitter tone came out. "Research. How long?"
Kasaya cleared his throat. Another question? "Few weeks."
Bakugo's writing halted. Eyes straight above the paper, then his eyes shifted back down and resumed.
'Two weeks?' Bakugo's head flipped. Two weeks? All this was was two weeks of research? His assumption was incorrect. It hadn't taken a month. It had taken this idiot only two weeks?
Not far behind at all. The B's. Or maybe it was just him. Admitted.
Blue Bun was driven. That spelled it.
Why he'd asked that? Nevertheless, Bakugo saying he 'knew' he didn't owe him shit, proved that he wasn't writing his essay out because he was 'helping a bro out', which was exactly what Kasaya wanted to know.
The problem was... it reaffirmed even more that effort was gray area.
Either way, Satoko felt exhuasted, he flopped down on his roll bed without giving it more thought, pulling on a black tank finally. Daisuta, it was killing him at the moment. A headache forming.
If the asshat wanted to read the rest of the material by writing it all out, so be it. It nonchalantly helps him, saves him the sting of possibly not being able to get it all done on time.
But if the guy wants to do it because he wants to save him the struggle, feels like easing tension... selfless things, so be it too.
Kasaya huffed over in bed, setting an alarm on his phone, so drowsy, rolling the cord up on his headphones.
Never in his life had another human being touched his work for school except his brother.
It was so odd just laying there staring into the darkness as his phone's light went out, knowing there was a light on behind him, and there was another person working on writing out his homework for him, (which was all written in lue of discovering helpful information about himself), whether it be personal benefit, or the other, or a combination of both, it was weird, and made him uneasy in bed.
He shifted for about 15 minutes until he started to feel his muscles twitch.
Something in his mind called out not to go to sleep until he seen it through, until he seen it done, but something else he remembered about how Katsuki precisely and precariously organized paperwork and homework lessons, intense in commitment...
He convinced himself that leaving it in his hands was...
'Okay.'
Just okay. He guessed.
Wasn't like he had a choice.
The other hadn't allowed that.
He wasn't gunna fight him on it. Didn't want to fight him period.
With that, he got comfortable enough in mind to fall asleep. That glare, from the couch, intense... stuck in his head.
Bakugo, felt a grumble in his stomach after awhile, and that signaled a break.
He reached over grabbing one of the power bars that came with all the stuff dropped off by electric idiot, and unwrapped it, lounging back for a bit.
'Man.' He chewed slow, feeling the bar mill around in his mouth, slow each bite.
His head was utterly concentrated. He got the direction, the arc, and the designated end of the paper.
Written with eloquence.
There wasn't just passion, but a fervor that spawned feelings inside him.
The writing.
It was actually... good.
There was a sort of poetic approach to it too, that he felt so many of his classmates lacked. Writing sometimes could feel so dead and lifeless, 'this happened, then this was the result', as most research papers were.
Many times he'd written meanly on his peers rough drafts in all caps as he usually did: 'LAME AS SHIT.' Or simply, 'THIS IS SHIT.'
Anything involving shit really.
Because that was what a lot of them were, written as if their heads weren't in the game and blankly smacking information around on the pages.
He got it, factual essay writing involved factual information, and usually the more supportive information the higher the grade.
His eyes, dark in the night, slid over to the black tank top of the sleeping roommate.
He had a wide back, and his hair was a mess falling out of that stupid ass bun at the back, tied up on the crown of his head.
He'd given him a towel. Flat out chucked it at his ass earlier, and that long hair, down past his shoulders, deep navy blue, mid shoulder blades, with no distinct hair cut, he'd dried it out with it.
Point was, Bakugo looked away, huffing, that he'd never did anything like that, never did anything like this either.
'Hell.' He crossed his legs, feeling... awkward, then uncrossed them, throwing them apart.
Now he was writing this out, and was almost done.
He hadn't expected this. He chewed, curling the bar's wrapper down.
He had expected to find out more about this dumbass.
The image of the stuffed rat on the string came to mind again and it caused his expression to crunch irritably. But this time... different.
He'd batted at it. Just a poke.
It had been selfish at first, wanting insight on B, but yeh. He was, had been lying to himself. At first, there was also an inkling of 'want' mixed in that was also selfish at root, a want of discovering perhaps a puzzle piece.
And he got it: Passionate.
But, even with puzzle piece in hand, there was no where to fuckin' put it!
At least in his writing he was passionate anyway. The loser literally didn't talk hardly at all. His mouth was blank, eyes gray and seemingly bland, but the writing? No.
Hypocrisy, through and through, and that was why even though a puzzle piece was uncovered, he couldn't lay it. It obviously belonged to the board, but it just didn't have a connective end.
He'd expected the essay to be SHIT, and he admitted...
It wasn't.
He spit at his own thoughts. How stupid he was.
What the fuck kind of game was he allowing himself to dribble on with, with this person?
"Hey Ashley. Oh gods you look so beautiful!"
A dark smirk crossed her lips. "Do you LOVE me?"
"Oh you know it. I so deeply cherish you." The blue haired preteen swiped shaggy hair stands behind his ear. It was growing out. Ashley would cut it back soon. Ashley always would cut his hair, she thought growing it too long made him look 'miserably poor' as she put it. Never would he want to look poor!
"Werent you DEPRESSED while I was away?" She snidely looked in his direction, fluffing up the slit on her dress to expose a little leg. A gown given to her by her parents. It was for him, so he could see just a bit of what that would be like. Devilish.
"Yes." His face fell instantly to tears and he sat on the couch in upstairs lounge, a rap techno mix of music banging. Tears, they just wouldn't stop. One extreme to the other. "I cut myself three times."
"Now. Now." She waltzed over from her lavish chair, and sat on the couch aside him running fingers through his hair, tucking it behind his ear. He instantly moved in for a kiss and she pushed it off. "Not right now."
"Hn." He pouted.
"Stop looking like that, you're just being ridiculous. Are you feeling BRAVE tonight?"
"You're love makes me so brave!" Kasaya's lips erupted. He went in for a second try and she smacked him right across the face.
It hurt. Inside he screamed.
She smacked him like a dog.
Kasaya shot up out of bed. It was still dark and storming, not as bad, but it was morning. A dark one.
He rubbed his eyes until all the crust was gone and they weren't sore anymore, until the vision of Ashley in that revealing sparkly gown, only at 14 was gone. He remembered what happened that night, at that club that they used to survey, but it was far not the worst. At least, he didn't think.
It sent shivers of all forms down his spine. He popped a cap, and shot a bit of vodka down, trying to drown what he'd done that night out. Quickly stuffing bottle in pocket, out of sight.
He'd have to count how many he had left. This month had been rough so far.
He wanted to growl under his breath but he stopped himself remembering who was in the lounge with him. Just like the room, the lounge the same.
Quiet.
Soon, he'd start seeing people up though, unlike the room, where he'd see nobody except the blonde rising and going about his normalcies.
Looking over confirmed. Bakugo was out.
No loud noises just like normal, following standard guidelines between them. Spatial separation.
The fuck was wrong with Ashley's parents for letting her wear that at that age? Gods. Slut.
Rubbing eyes, he remembered. 'Oh yeh.' He looked over.
The paper.
He grabbed for it. It was done in the cleanest handwriting. Plain, but tidy, for the first time, up close he got to examine his penmanship.
It was clean, boxy. Masculine, similar to his, but a bit more sharp.
The paper had been stacked neatly in order, the new one on top of the old pages.
His navy blue eyebrow quirked.
It was titled.
That's right. 'I forgot.' He didn't title it. He couldn't come up with something. The one thing he was going leave for the last day. Seeing as he had to rewrite it all, he completely forgot about it.
Bakugo had labeled it 'Adaptations and Amorphisms of the Human Mind.' Complex.
Kasaya wasn't sure he'd ever heard of the secondary word. That's when he spied at the top edge of every page as well, his name.
Crisp. Straight and proudly written was Satoko Kasaya.
He hadn't told Bakugo was literary style he was supposed to be writing in, that he forgot to mention.
Chicago Style was each page with page number, the authors name, and title. And every page was as such. Bakugo had picked up on it from just how he'd styled his annotated bibliography, which was also rewritten.
He had literally done everything.
Satoko honestly couldn't expect less from a Hero Class student. But it was miraculous. Really.
It was his intuition that astonished him. His innate observation to pick up the writing style and finish formatting it correctly. Most wouldn't even think of that.
Hell! It turned out better by him doing it.
He put it back on the table and laid down. It was 6 in the morning. He let the bun out of his hair, familiar burn of alcohol shifting around in his stomach comforting him. His hair being up was bothering him, now his head could lay flat on his pillow.
Was he okay with admitting that to himself?
That... not only did Bakugo finish out his work, albeit he did it voluntarily and that he did it spotlessly? Did he want to admit that he felt a tad like he could depend on him?
He didn't want that to be given off, he knew Katsuki hated weakness in people, but as far as if he ever needs something, which he'd never ask, Bakugo was reliable?
As long as he was agreeable. Which wasn't much.
It was a fuckin' Christmas miracle he agreed to a pact to get the room straightened out and everything up off the floor!
But he had to remember. Kasaya had said it: 'We aren't friends.' After this, it all goes back to normal.
So, there would be not threat to either of their ways of life. Which they lived fairly similarly.
Bakugo hadn't shaken on it. But, Kasaya was certain that he wouldn't of went along with it, if it wasn't for that being established.
Daisuta adjusted again to wondering, the whole him 'wanting-to-finish-it' was a mystery.
Whatever were his intentions? They never were clear.
He never spoke much as it was, but he wouldn't be able to stand having a roommate like Kaminari. No offense to the guy, but damn.
Kasaya shot a glance at Bakugo's back rising and falling, his black ribbed tank, similar to what he was wearing, was half under the blanket.
Confusion. Maybe Bakugo lived off of it? Maybe instead of Ashley stirring things up when she was bored, another shiver shot down his spine at the thought of her in that dress again, maybe Bakugo liked to confuse people?
Because he really was just confusing in general. He got him, as he'd been thinking the night before, but he knew nothing really. Honestly.
Kasaya admitted, he'd had his fill of asshat's confusing nature the past evening already, and would be glad to have it done and over for awhile.
Bakugo never said his true intentions. That Kasaya got. Loud and clear.
Shaking information out of someone like that was useless, until they decided they wanted to tell you.
And that was why he looked away and back into his phone. He could sleep a bit more.
Not that he wanted information out of him.
Wait.
Did he?
Kasaya blinked suddenly in frustration at himself. What was the intent behind even wanting to gather information, if he did care at all?
So... he could understand Bakugo a bit more.
But why? He had no yearning to know the gritty firestarter any better, but the actions of the past night had his mind racing on a track with a hemi V8.
He grimaced that he wanted to know. Yet again he wasn't here to make a party of it, friends and the like.
Was it possible that it could of been? A spark of not selfishness in decision? Both with Ibara and the paper?
He ran a palm over his face and yawned, rolling over.
Seriously. 'Whatever.'
He wasn't supposed to be here to have his mind occupied with the actions of another person. He was supposed to be here dutifully to stay away from that girl. Evil bitch.
Dutifully, as it was duty to his brother, and to himself, his life, everything. He sent a text back in that moment, his brother's 'there' a little early today, probably on guard duty.
'Here.' He texted. Kasaya mentally blinked. Even with dreaming of that monster, 'I'm still here'.
He hadn't left campus at all. Not once as per his brothers strictness. Ashley was still out there and at large. This was working on two months now of no outside world.
Didn't feel like it though, the campus was really large.
That's right. He had too many other things going on to be consumed too much with what his roommate was up to mentally. He had other things in mind. Other things to do.
Goals sort of. His quirk. He had to help himself.
He mentally thanked that girl, Ibara. She'd stirred up a different train of thought and because of it he was slowly bending himself down a different route.
Still not set on heroism, especially after knowing himself to be nothing but a criminal, and not dealing with it well, as he knew he was also a drunk, but still. The route was bending.
That was why he'd written the paper. It was the perfect assignment to reach out and grasp something, anything about himself. He'd learned a little more about his quirk, some basics from the research. But he'd been engrossed so deeply in it because it pertained to him, searching, studying for clues, anything that would help, that he'd realized, in connection with his Level 3, he learned just a bit of information, something so tiny, but yet something so integral that dear Gods, it made him hope that he'd never have to use Level 3 again.
She'd made him use it. Only once.
And the imagery that came back... just that one time, unreal. Completely unreal.
The look on her face, from that imagery's film, it was stark, appalled. Her face was ghastly, like someone had seen a serial killer in real life.
That was what he'd done that night outside the club. She'd ask him to call on Diasuta for the Level 3 out of three emotion controls. A strong request.
Of course he'd done it, unable to refuse.
It was unmistakable, her shocked look in the memories.
Whatever had happened, resulted in the man being nothing.
Suddenly there was a bright light, and the man that he was staring at, outside that club, was suddenly gone.
And Ashley never called on it again after.
Never on Level 3.
And what he'd learned from research, it couldn't possibly be... but it was.
Level 3 Control Quirks were rare, most only had a Level 1, and only about 20% of those a Level 2. Also, those who possessed Level 3's (0.01%), (they were so rarely studied that information was slim), he'd found that that level dealt with much more than his brain's 'dictionary', but instead, with the very energy of his brain, Diasuta's energy, combining with the body's energy.
Like a strange switch turning on that opened up 100% of his brain, from the 10% that humans normally only use.
Bizarre.
And to do what exactly?
He didn't know.
Enough to scare her.
He remembered being pleased that night inside his head, behind his blank eyes, in that witch's fear after he got the memory flood.
He looked over to Bakugo's back. "Thanks asshole." He hushedly mumbled. It was as silent as a butterfly flitting. Almost unheard.
This paper had helped him reach out just a bit more, and with the sleeping one's lent hand, it was finished.
He'd never called on Daisuta, not without her controlling him.
He didn't want to.
He moved his head to face the ceiling, trying to close his eyes, breathing deep letting it out slow, strong alcohol breath, it'd slowly fade in about an hour.
After he brushed his teeth it'd be all gone completely, and he could sneak his next on lunch probably.
Planning out his 'habit'. He could probably get a smoke in later too.
He wondered if any other person at this school his age was anywhere near as fucked up as he was.
He looked back over to the blondes backside, rising and falling peacefully, then back upwards to the ceiling again.
There was stomping, slamming, banging, yelling, punching pillows, grunts, growls, grr's, and hair grabbing he'd seen at random times in the room, all signals of open frustration, anger, volcanic selfishness. Bakugo had even thrown books.
Then... there was honesty and intensity, all covered over with a thick layer of confusing demeanor. He was a class act student. Perfect pen and hand.
But what it boiled down to for Kasaya, was even though a reckless mess, Bakugo the perfect pun of the B Class joke, still... was not as much of a mess as he was.
Kasaya sighed. The nights events, the paper writing, if anything, had shown him that upfront.
Take away Bakugo's horrible shit, erase it out, you still had a top student. Smart, organized.
It was he then, Kasaya, who was a better fit in that description.
He was the reckless mess.
Something and someone that they could laugh at.
"What a train wreck." He mumbled. As if he had to say it at all.
He knew. Too well. He was.