15

The blonde was barging down the crowded sidewalk, banging into shoulders of people, just as everyone else was with him; it was crowded. His last class had let out early due to the professor having a personal emergency; and now here he was, baggy pants, heavy, over-filled backpack, his head to the pavement like always, earbuds blasting rock music to it's highest decibel, another thing that wouldn't help his fledgling hearing loss dilemma, but it was a necessary evil to do to evade the screwy eyes of other people, especially the acidic chit chats they had.

He hated how as all the ongo'ers slammed into each others shoulders in passing, his ears would prick up on random conversation to random conversation, and it would get his mind working over all their stupid senseless stuff. He would rather puke.

This time of the day, he normally wasn't out on the pavements between buildings, but in astrophysics, he purposefully signed up for the class around this time at beginning of year, to bypass exactly this: The traffic.

Avoiding all those humans around him who were all are backwards was necessary to him, especially the ones that rubbernecked at him while waltzing by with their questionable, over-sexualized orbs. Their faces all swirly as sugar, but as fake as the white powdered small packages in the campus cafeteria that artificially makes beverages too damn sweet.

Phony; the lot of humans that surrounded him.

Especially the women that (he could tell out of the corner of his eye) would give his body the quick 'run down', that one look they all did where it was from head to toe, like they were taking his clothing off with their offensive eyeballs. A few men too. It was just the same. He didn't care what gender people were, that look alone made his stomach turn.

Fuckin' sickening, like mixing too many different flavors of Kool-aid packets together that they sold in the American grocery store. The water just turns a nasty black and tastes like vomit. Some children's beverage! Gross as shit when done overboard! Like syrup.

Kasaya's brother had been bogus at first, a mask wearer, but that quickly faded with the events.

Kasaya on the other hand?

Bakugo figured it out. He was wearing a mask too. Duh.

It had constantly been on his mind since he'd been in that limo, since he'd thought on the subject while sitting alongside the road that night days ago now.

Because if he was a mask wearer, he was really, truly was a liar, as he'd admitted in the restaurant: 'It's all a lie.'

He felt there should be no justification for not telling the truth, but Suki could understand the lie with what he'd seen. It clarified why Kasaya did put up a front, even if a person may not want to, per-sey. Kasaya had more right to do it than anyone he'd ever known.

And that was what shook him.

Because... that quiet nature, the one that makes the room peaceful, how much of that was faux? All of it? Or only some of it?

Bakugo had been quite impressionable with his assumptions of his roommate. He felt like punching in a wall, a downturned frown spanned his face, his teeth gritting. He'd thought that that just was the way he was. Never did he think that he could possibly be lying in total, and under that skin he was actually different!

Hisashi had told him in the limo mildly that Kasaya was plenty strong, possessed elevated powers, which were actually quite rare in the cerebral quirk community, but as confirmed, was slaving to gain authority, that he his psychic quirk can control people's bodies by saying their names, among some other stuff too that the elder didn't touch on, because he had no real idea.

By read Hisashi's body language, Bakugo gathered that he didn't really know too much about his younger brother's quirk, that he could understand it maybe to a point, but not well. But, Hisashi saying that Kasaya has zero will of his own to control his brain; that is where the problem lays.

Alleged, whatever happened to him, (which Hisashi did not say anything about either, and that Bakugo himself said that he didn't want to hear), a bunch of super messed up, horrifying personal shit, was what had caused his feelings to be so flat, and because not feeling strong emotions of his own, he has no will in any of them, and because of that, cannot control his quirk.

Hisashi said he knows for sure, the only thing he is doing to stop it from happening, is to just not say a single person's name, trying to live life careful, not getting too physically hurt. Kasaya can say his own name, but that's it, and apparently, he can't say his 'brain's name' either?

'Confusing as fuck!' Bakugo kicked a trash can as he walked by, incredibly irritated.

So then, was what he was drawn to? The result of a fucked up disaster? And not Kasaya himself? Who the fuck was his roommate then? Really?

Cerebral quirks were insane!

'How complicated does shit have to be?!'

His quirk was a point of shoot type of thing. Easy!

He could see then, why the hell Kasaya was struggling.

"Fuck!" He kicked a light pole as he walked by.

Some people stared and quickly bustled off as he walked by.

'Good! Run fuckers!'

Kasaya again, so like himself!

Bakugo had changed too, after that moment of realization of what 'dead' meant. His whole world became a different world. His whole outlook on life revolved. He lived parallel in that same plane, but somehow it felt different, his walk was different, and nothing would ever be the same, and he could never go back entirely to how he'd been.

On the surface was the result.

So drastically, this had happened to Kasaya as well.

Apparently Kasaya was packed with an insane amount of strength, was trying to be responsible about it, searching for answers, trying to get shit together, but was failing, falling. Not breaking, not yet, just damaged, but was losing.

But was he beyond repair?

Bakugo kept spinning through a piece of conversation that took place in the limousine:

"His brain's name?" Bakugo grumbled, arms crossed. "That's some dumb ass shit."

"It's not. Think of it as a hero name; like that, it makes more sense." Hisashi sighed. "Too bad it wasn't used that way. Nor did he name it."

"Hn?" He was so interested it was stupid to him, because it was becoming less and less 'dumb ass shit'.

Bakugo felt that swirl of a slight-lie floating around inside him; his stomach tight and clenched. He'd realized that what he'd said about not wanting to hear personal stuff was becoming weakened, and he, on the inside, was beginning to feel uncomfortable, how he felt when he knew he'd told a total, back-handed lie.

Damn it! How his mind kept changing!

He said he didn't want to hear about the personal garbage! Didn't care to! But as the soldier of fortune over here pecked onward, Bakugo became thirsty, not wanting to only know the plain-Jane material.

Bakugo was growing agitated because he was so enthralled! And he shouldn't be; was telling himself he shouldn't give two shits!

Kasaya was like his research paper, the crap the soldier wouldn't go in depth about, Bakugo was the clearly beginning to see, truly was the meat and potatoes of Kasaya's inner mechanisms, the essay's entire process, internal, and external, the reason why everything appears as it was.

So what Bakugo was seeing, what percentage of that was false?

Kasaya had fessed up when he'd lied at the restaurant. But, that was just admitting to one lie. One.

What Bakugo wondered was about Kasaya cloaking himself, which he clearly was. Was it so much that it concealed everything 100%, or was the blue head sort of being himself in some ways?

Was the mask he wore, one like his brother's? That could easily come off? Or was it one that was literally glued to his face, or possibly even melted on with hot liquid metal, that Kasaya feared ripping off, with flesh and all, because an irate, insane, nutjob lurked underneath?

And did it matter to him to know?

It would make the game harder.

Bakugo looked to the form on the long bench seat, sleeping peacefully.

That body.

It almost killed tonight.

Hisashi got whispery. "It's name... is Diasuta."

Bakugo turned to him. So, that was why. He was screaming at Kasaya's brain to listen to him; begging for his life.

"So'it wasn't?" Bakugo softened up a bit knowing that now, as he was less concerned about getting taken out in his sleep, but he was still tense and untrusting.

"No. Not Kasaya." The decorated one cleared his throat, opened a bottle of water and took a swig. "When what came out of Saya's mouth was that I'd injured his 'shell', that was how I knew it was no longer my brother in charge. That... and the eyes." He pointed to his own light blue ones. "When they turn like that, like a fuckin'... werewolf." He visibly shivered.

It was a good metaphor. Bakugo was too thinking something similar. Like an undead zombie, rising from a grave. The eyes completely one color, and empty, void of all, and that haunting, raspy voice that came out; It was not his roommate's.

Bakugo looked to Kasaya again.

That voice, that rumble.

Bakugo had never heard another voice similar. Utter and sheer chaos.

It was midnight, it was shadow. It was everything hidden in the spaces in between the stars, where there was no light, where there was nothing but the fathom of space.

The circumference of the evil mind that lurked like a predator in murky water, underneath that good-looking, solemn face, was a cruel library of material ready to snap on a human that set it to wake.

And for reasons that Hisashi would not tell.

'Disaster.' Bakugo did not mind the title. It suited the sleeping, totally fucked up asshole laying peacefully broken on the bench like a baby. What did he want then by going to UA? To be a hero? A hero named 'Disaster'? What kind of hero would that make?

Hisashi was still pointing to his own orbs as an example but Bakugo was not looking. "When the eyes suddenly start flashing their irises, that's when you know the mind's settling, and letting Kasaya come back." He chugged on some water again. "Apparently, that's a normal, tale-tale sign of someone who has a cerebral quirk that they can't control. Ordinary too, for the brain to speak out of the person's mouth."

The blonde wouldn't admit it openly, but both of those things, they'd been the cherry on the top of the ice cream that had shook him up to the point where his flight and fight took over.

And now knowing this? It was more like a multiple personality disorder than a bi-polar problem.

He wondered if Kasaya gained control... if that would go away.

Was that how it was with all people who had these type of quirks?

Did they all speak to and share a relationship with their brains?

After they gained control, did the brain just give it over, and stop being this menacing force inside? Or was it a life-long struggle?

He slashed his student ID into the back lock by the construction area, popped the door, closing it quietly behind him, and began to ascend the stairs.

A life-long struggle. Insane! Fuckin' insane.

Here was where they drug his ass up, luckily nobody was around, most were out on that Friday into Saturday, or asleep. As soon as they entered inside the clean dorm, from being outside, and in that limousine, in was instant that they both smelled it.

Liquor; strong all over all three of them.

Bakugo recalled moaning to himself up the stairs that he needed a shower so bad, and the soldier shushed him. He could of blown his ass to high heaven, right then and there! But he didn't. The moron had given him enough of what he wanted, what he needed, for now.

The soldier had told him: 'Too bad it wasn't used that way.'

In what way exactly had it been used then?

For?

Surely not.

What the fuck had his roommate done? Exactly?

Before here? Before UA?

"FUCK!" He yelled. He punched the wall, but didn't use his quirk. His knuckles shot red, one of them blooded over. He jammed the bleeding one into his mouth, tasting the metallic iron, and continued up to the next level, trying to hurry up not to be spoken to.

This was not the way this was supposed to work out!

He felt a loss of pride, not just over being the room's pre-declared ruler, but it was almost like a new random roommate (Kasaya's brain), was suddenly tossed into the equation, the mix, who was a psycho, but also, because this shit was pushed on him because of exactly that!

He was to alert the smooth-lipped military student if anything fishy arose.

Which meant being on alert, twenty-four hours a day.

Bakugo was beginning to clearly see the consequence of his idiotic choice. It wasn't stupid that he'd made it, as it was for a good cause, and because he truly didn't want a lashing out to happen, and a random person out there (even though he hates them all), to die.

But what was stupid to him, was at the time of making it, he didn't realize the depth of job that he was allowing himself to get assigned to.

His eyes consistently had to be peeled the fuck open.

This school and living here was not to be spent meddling around with other people's issues! It was a time for him to hone his skills and become the best ever!

To beat Deku into the ground like the little street rat that he is!

That was another thing! That fucker Deku had to of lied to him! How the hell was a quirk not there?! Just to suddenly show up?

He slammed the door open, finally the top floor!

"DAMN IT!" He said kind of loud. There was no escape!

He'd done what he could to make everything go back to the regular, Kasaya, the shit bag, wanted the tape to go back down, so guess what?

He fucking did it.

How could he not?! The idiot clearly wanted it to go back anyway! He'd said it up in that top penthouse!

But, he'd watched that face full of life drastically fall down to nothing when it stared at him, dressed in a kimono, across that room.

And out of that, what did Bakugo gain? What did he feel?

Confused.

Utter and drastic confusion.

They'd just had a decent time.

Yes, he was so pissed that his roommate had drug him into something that he didn't necessarily want to be in, just assumed him along, didn't help that he was intoxicated to all hell, and had no idea what was going on, until he started to snap out of it.

He still remembered that old man's voice droning in his head.

But, when he'd watched that face conclude to emptiness, it was like his anger fizzled to a slow burn on the stove, and all that suddenly and abruptly mattered was what the other was thinking, if anything at all.

Bakugo admitted, he needed to put the tape back down for himself too. He needed and craved the separation.

Needed the time... to think.

Just then, as Bakugo approached the door, it opened in front of him, and a form came out of it with a plain tee on and a laundry basket on its shoulder.

Just the person he didn't want to see.

Satoko Kasaya turned, let his foot go, allowing the door to close on its own, jamming the key inside his athletic shorts pocket.

It was laundry night, same night every week. At least this week the pipe above the room hadn't busted, and the power was on, which allowed him to actually wash his clothing. But when he turned, there stood the broad-shouldered blonde, and Kasaya realized, he was right in his way.

All they did was look opposite ways and shift to the side the other.

No sound. No words.

Silent acknowledgment that Bakugo knew some shit now.

Silent acknowledgment that Kasaya knew he knew some shit now.

Kasaya began walking away.

Little did he know, as Bakugo angerily slammed his key into the lock of the door, he looked over his shoulder.

Only five seconds. Scanned him.

Looking to see where he was going.

Up from the feet to the head, before slamming the door closed.

Satoko felt awkward; he had no idea how to not feel that way.

Before, he didn't feel weird, because the room rules were up, (which they were again, as Bakugo had followed what he'd said and put the duct tape back down), but his roommate had known nothing, (except about the drinking and smoking), which was how he'd liked it. He liked it quiet, less information the better. Less talk.

Right now, he did not like.

Bakugo knew now his reality and his hidden interior battled for control.

Exactly why he couldn't have friends, have anyone because of it; as he'd thought that night he'd felt his face fall staring over at Katsuki in the penthouse.

He regretted so hard, because now his roommate did see a taste. An ugly lick.

'I'm just a waste of space.' He concluded in his head, finally hitting the side door's handle to go down the back way, the same exact route that he knew Bakugo probably took to come back from class.

With a free hand he yanked up on his bun on the back of his head, it was slightly coming loose, and he brushed his swishy bangs that still hadn't grown long enough behind his ear.

He started down the stairs.

Bakugo, he admitted, was a horrible, fearsome person, but now, what was to come of this?

But what was he exactly?

Answer: The exact same.

A ghastly, horrid mix-up lurked under his skin.

He doubted Bakugo would actually kill someone on purpose though. His quirk was not even similar to his, physical explosion quirk. Physical quirk people all had their brains inside them, but they weren't their own 'entity'. Their brains were just 'there' working, thinking, normal.

All in all, Kasaya hoped that the atmosphere in the room would go back to how it was, because the strange silent tension that was not being spoken about was as large as a white elephant.

Aside from that, Kasaya was even more shriveled and scattered into bits and pieces on the inside... because Diasuta, like always, had filled him in after the fact; like a TV show, it played a reel of what happened in his head when it took control as he started returning to consciousness.

He'd never pulled the ropes, she had. She'd had all the control over his mind, and over him. So fucked.

He wondered what it'd be like if he ever tamed the beast inside himself, that wasn't initially a beast, not until after Ashley stuck her prying jackel claws into its fleshy core.

Would he see reels? Or would he consiscously then just 'know' what was going on?

So similar it was to being drunk, and not remembering until you sobered up.

Because 'Kasaya' leaving, like a blackout, to have a piece of his life flashed to him under his lids, that he didn't know existed, frightened him. His body moving on it's own accord, under a brain's control that was delirious, set his heart to pound in a manner that made him so utterly sickened.

Everytime it rocked him.

This time, he panicked as that flash happened. With no way to stop it, the movie began playing horror cinema. It showed his screaming brother and a sword tip slowly, murderously poking inward. Then a tick more, a tick more, a tick more, sinking in the soft neck tissue.

Inside his own head, he was screaming, screaming! A maniac. Yelling at himself for being so weak! Being unable to gain control! Being so reckless and unstable!

Fighting.

He watched that thin, streak of blood leak down the sword, the trail wet, that was when he felt his sensations start running through his whole body, it's muscles starting to loosen, to shake, convulse, a sign that the film was ending, that he was coming-to.

Moments. Those last seconds, he watched, unable to peel away, like his eyes were taped open inside himself.

Would he wake, and his brother? Would be?

Beheaded?

Sliced?

Dead?

The light gone from his eyes forever.

But as the frames screeched and slowed, suddenly there was a hand in his face. It's knuckles bent in a tight manner, and he heard his name in a rough voice: 'KASAYA!'

And then black, and his eyes opened.

He was staring at a ceiling, a cement ceiling, one he recognized.

The room. He was in his room. His back hurt.

A face. His brother, over him.

Somehow. He'd blinked. That rough voice. Whoever's it was.

It alone... brought him back.

Kasaya slammed the door open to the bottom level, so much that the door slammed against the wall on the other side where the laundry room was, he yanked his red headphones on and plugging them into his phone for music.

Ashley hadn't pestered him today by calling. He wouldn't have to send any screen shots off to his brother for the court case. One less bullshit item of business that he didn't have to attend to.

'Good!' He didn't feel like messing with that trifling bitch today! Today was not a good day! Today was day he surely would answer the phone and chew her out! Like that day in the courtyard when his phone auto-answered.

He walked in and all the washers and dryers were open, completely desolate. It was midday, most people were still in class, which was why he was trying to do it now. Either now, or around 7:00, when everyone was eating dinner. He always chose times that seemed to have a lower traffic. Unfortunately, he'd also barely evaded Bakugo.

He scanned and took a 3 oz vodka out of his pocket, snapped it off and downed it, putting the trash back in his shorts pocket.

It was his third within the past hour.

Kasaya hadn't touched the large bottle yet, but he would soon, felt it coming.

Had to.

This was just one more desolate thing he'd have to erase out of his head with the drink: almost whacking his brother's throat wide open; like torture that tip was slowly splitting the skin.

No doubt he'd fall even deeper into this alcoholism. He feared never coming out the other side.

His liver.

"Shit."

It wasn't calm. It was angry. And he said it louder than normal, as he had headphones blasting his heavy rap-techno into his head, so he couldn't even hear the loudness of his own voice.

He jerked the door to a wash machine open and started slamming clothing inside of it.

This was the fence, he was right up against that barbed wire.

As soon as he seen Hisashi's face over him in the room after the reel played, he suddenly learched up and grabbed him, his weight bringing his older brother back to the floor with him, touching the little mark on his neck, a few stitches, and felt hot wells coming to his face.

The deepest feeling he'd concieved in awhile, aside from those little blips Bakugo stirred up for some weird reason by staring at him with those red hot coals for eyes. This time it was an emotion of sheer, utter sadness and happiness mixed together.

Blissful that Hisashi was alive, struck because he'd almost murdered him. Sad that he was such a fuckin' failure, trash.

It was hard to separate himself from his brain's doings. For his brain lived in his body. How he teetered. Unable to separate himself from thinking he'd done these things. It was his brain damn it! His body doing them!

Hisashi sat him up, quiet, and with a relieved look on his face, put a little bottle of vodka in his palm, and Kasaya and him shared a moment where their glances said everything to one another:

Hisashi was saying that it was okay to drink it away.

Kasaya was saying with his eyes that this time it wasn't.

But unlike all the stuff Ashley made him do; the taking of lives, slamming his ancestor's sword up into random people's guts, across backs, necks, what she forced him to do to other men, punishing them with viscous, dry rape, and the torture he was forced to do to people... this was about his brother.

Kasaya snapped off another 3 oz bottle, took it, pocketed it empty with no ability to stop.

What was most sick about this all... was that that mixed feeling of happiness and utter sadness he felt from almost witnessing his brother's death... it still was not enough. He didn't shed a single tear. His eyes had got hot. They'd welled, but nothing fell.

How fucking dead was he? On the inside? That he wouldn't even cry over almost killing his own brother! How messed up!

How this messed him up even more.

And Bakugo was there.

Watched him pop that cap off that small bottle, after a full night of drinking, sitting on the floor. Watched him chug it, without saying a word. Watched that slick liquid glide down his throat, those red eyes burning holes into the sides of his face from his desk chair.

Then Hisashi handed him another.

Eagerly he took it, one chug, like water, it all went down.

'This isn't okay anymore! GOD DAMNIT!' He opened the door back up, slammed it wide open and began walking up the stairs, he had three wash machines going downstairs he'd have to attend to, but that was the least of his problems.

He had to push himself more, he had to find a way!

He COULD NOT allow himself to fall to his own brain ever again! Diasuta, that fucked up criminal inside himself, almost killed his brother for him! Kasaya's body had almost done it!

He admitted, he'd done some surface level bad shit, sure, he'd burnt down a complex for Ashley, was sent to juvenile jail, has a record, so it wasn't all Diasuta, he'd done some bad things too, but if it wasn't for that repulsive witch, his body would of never of raped someone, he'd never of killed someone.

He'd never of been used for such deeds period.

He slammed the top level's side door back open, soon to slide the key into his own door's lock.

He had to do something. Had to learn to start controlling it, somehow, someway. He COULD NOT let another film play in his head again.

Who would it be next time, hm? Only a matter of time before the pyscho in his skull killed another, it knew what it tasted like, what it felt like, therefore Kasaya knew the feeling too.

It manifested in his core, the squelching out of someone's soul, to watch the pits burn out of their eyes, the face turn loose and mouth fall, always an unsightly and ugly face they'd make.

He could puke.

Kasaya could be screaming, yelling, crying for him to fucking stop, but Diasuta would not listen. He influenced him. An internal shadow.

The door opened.

Bakugo sat on his bed, he was organizing papers, looked like it was for a test or something.

Kasaya opened the side window, just a crack, to let some air in, door closing on spring behind him.

'Fuck.' He rubbed his face, sitting on his bed too. There was no soothing what was trolling through his head at the moment, unless...

Should he?

He put an elbow on his knee, as he sat on his bed.

He'd skipped classes and worked out. He'd done as many katas as he could think of in that half office building that was old that he liked to go hang out in alone, it had kind of a large open floor, and that was where he did most of his working out. To stay out of the gym, away from the prying eyes of others.

The last thing he needed was to meet more people at the gym, when he was trying to work thoughts out of his head. Less names the better.

But he'd set himself into a dire state. He barely was able to walk back, he'd pushed his body so hard, was covered in sweat. The hot mid-day shower after didn't even do anything, didn't strain those thoughts out.

Still, the only solution to his problems.

Decided.

He opened the bottom drawer to his desk where his old baseball medals were, where he knew Hisashi hid that bottle, and throwing a handful of gold onto the floor, dug for it.

Bakugo was instantly distracted by a miniscule, metallic clank on the tile.

It was round, thick medallions. Lots of them.

But then the roommate slid a huge bottle of vodka topside his desk, throwing all the medals recklessly back into the bottom drawer, closing it, like they were absolutely worthless, and made of shit themselves.

Bakugo noticed they were all that first place yellows.

How similar he felt about his, bullshit it was, but yet, he still had it stuffed away in his closet. Suki was stuck watching (without a choice now because of the soldier's plea to him), but also trying to avoid letting his eyes fall to him.

The roommate slammed a paper cup down on his desk, pulled a bottle of cold-ish orange juice out of his backpack, and snapped the lid off of it.

He mixed a drink, half and half.

"What th'fuck are you doing?" Bakugo. That bottle was huge. He knew the soldier had stashed something in there. So that was what it was; he was already having a bad day, this idiot better not push him further!

"Drinking." Kasaya kept it short. Just keep it plain, he kept repeating inside himself. He just wanted relief.

He wanted his head to calm, so he could think damn it! So he could get some work done, so he could contemplate of a way to help himself better, he had to, it was his responsibility!

Even if his 'brain' had killed his brother, they'd still imprison the body attached to it. How could you just imprision a brain! So fucking stupid.

Kasaya was to the point where he'd rather have himself dissected, poked at until his mind shorted-out, he didn't care, he'd live as a vegetable his whole life, he was having a sweep of a weird depression come over him.

If he couldn't find a way, he honestly, was better off dead.

He slid his desk chair out slow, not allowing himself to be too loud in the room with the biker cut, and smoothly let himself plunk into it. Contemplating exactly how maybe, he would 'end it', if it came to that.

Nothing was on his desk, he just looked out the window, watched the sky, drinking his screwdriver. (authors note: that's the name of the drink he'd just made).

It tasted good. The need was being satisfied.

Silence.

Bakugo after awhile started slamming a few books around, he was growing irritated with something.

Kasaya just ignored it, just as he'd done before things were odd in the room's atmosphere. He perhaps figured with that question Katsuki had asked, that it probably might be because of him, but honestly, he could careless.

Bakugo had told him up on the balcony that night that he didn't care that he drank in the room, but now Bakugo was biting his own drunken words. He smelled the OJ and vodka now, and for sure, it absolutely was the same smell that he'd thought he'd smelled that one time.

He'd also had a horrible hang over Saturday, spent all day in bed practically, (except to put down the tape), watching movies on his laptop, downing aspirin. Kasaya was quiet in the dark on his side of the room that day. All day.

Bakugo wasn't sure if he had a hang over or not too, or what, but it was silence, and with his condition Saturday, he wouldn't of had it any other way.

Now, he kept just letting his eyes trace over, trying to grasp whether he should text the brother or not.

But the soldier had given him this bottle, so the elder already assumed his younger brother would drink it.

The bottle. Bakugo watched the liquid in the inside, it's line lower now, cap on. It was clear, as clear as water, not as crystal as the sake, but it had it's own luminous glow to it. The light running through it made all these slick patterns reflect over the desk top.

Was this guy, really that uneven that he had to have a fuckin' afternoon cocktail? He looked calm right now. (Of course, Bakugo had no idea what was brewing through his head.)

"Why now?" Katsuki grumbled. Still contemplating texting his brother, unless a good answer came. He felt like he'd been forced to be such a little snitch! He was not a snitch! How annoying!

Saya turned to look at him with just a few slits of eyes tracing over, bangs in face so he didn't have to directly meet him, or his sharp-jawed face, like he had when they'd toasted at The Golden. Had he just asked him a question and it didn't sound that cruel?

"Why not." He let small words only tumble out. Made it sound as little a question as possible, not set on telling Bakugo anything about what he was thinking. But something in Bakugo's eye's moving like a panther, made it seem that that was not good enough. Kasaya looked away this time. "Bad day." He felt no need to continue, but he just wanted him to stop staring at him.

"Hn." Suki grunted. He knew the guy probably drank everyday, that he got spelled out for him, but it was mid-week, and again, the afternoon.

But as he kept watching, some sense of calm was coming to him. Just as before, the ferocious temper he had, it was settling. As Kasaya's lips touched the cup's edge, lifting, swallowing, slow, relaxed, he noticed tension relieving on that face, like something was melting.

Suki then remembered what it felt like to drink, to have that light feeling wash over him where he was lifted away from his life, for some number of hours.

It was decent.

Perhaps, more than decent.

Kasaya, even though having zero control over anything inside himself, Bakugo still liked him better than that fuckwad brother of his that gave him his phone number.

Kugo stuffed the phone back into his backpack. Nah.

He didn't have to text him shit.

Bakugo ran a hand through his hair. Felt good. "My day's been shit." He let it babble out.

Satoko looked, watched him, he was visibly pissed, sighing, then started unbuttoning his shirt. He turned away. "Same." Were they actually talking? Was he actually talking ... 'to me? Or, just at me?'

"I want one." Bakugo pointed to the drink Kasaya was holding, remembering that feeling. He wanted to loosen up some meddling stuff that was putting his mind through the ringer.

It wasn't a 'May I have one?' So like him, Kasaya thought. Always so demanding. He pulled another cup out and sat it on his desk top. "Half n' half or strong?"

"Whatever." Bakugo grunted, pulled out his desk chair, slamming himself into it, now down to a tank, he took his dress shoes off and neatly sat to the side, laces in, folded his uniform's coat.

That reminded Kasaya of his brother. Precise.

Kasaya mixed it half and half like his, slid it to the left most edge of his desk.

It was almost like they were sitting aside each other, but farther away than on that couch lounger.

Bakugo looked down at it, his hand going over the desk's small crack of 'separation line' to grab it up, bringing it to his lips, elbow on table.

Citrus.

Mild this time though. He'd liked that sake, a lot.

A feeling of relaxation began to wash as he drank it. In the afternoon of all things!

As it went down, mid-cup, his shoulders began to feel less heavy. His neck's tension began to relax. His body felt gentle. It was... something else. Couldn't describe how it made him feel, just 'better'.

And he knew it, for sure, now. Better.

"You... really that fucked?" Kugo blurted out. He wanted to know. He wanted to know about the mask. Need.

"Yeh." Kasaya started pouring himself a second one. "I am." It sucked that he knew some stuff about it now. Hisashi had told him that he was concerned about his safety so he had to tell him some things, not the crazy shit, thank the gods, but just surface material.

"But your head, not'you?" Bakugo.

"Yes and no." Kasaya rolled his eyes at his own bullshit answer. It was like saying 'maybe'.

"Then how do'you know?"

That was the longest, normal sentence he'd ever said to him, other than telling him that he didn't owe him for letting him borrow his scissors to unwrap that package, or when he'd told him he'd write the rest of his essay out. And again he had no idea what he was getting at with asking him such a thing.

"It directly effects me and who I am." Kasaya took a sip, setting his cup back down, moving in his seat to get a bit more comfortable. "Everything it does, everything that it has done, comes to the conscious side eventually. It fucked and fucks me up." Bakugo had the right to know he wouldn't murder him. Of all things. Having to explain this stuff to someone he doesn't even know!

"Who y'are now..." Suki trailed. He was just flat out asking now. Talking more led him to answers. He wanted them. "right now... sittin' here. Is this who you'are, or not?"

"Yeh. It's who I am. My brain may directly effect me, but it makes me this. Over time, personalities do change though, as people experience new shit." He hoped. Hoped that be the case. He'd like to be a little bit lighter in the future, less dark, more control over his quirk would make him different.

That was a really honest answer. Bakugo looked over. "So, you hide this shit from people?"

"Nah." Kasaya took a swig. "It's more so, they don't ask the right questions. I had to lie a lot in the beginning. Now I just evade."

Bakugo smirked and looked away. Deja vu. Some how, on the inside, as he took a sip of his screwdriver, he felt a rush of swift chill swarm over his skin.

Confirmed.

Kasaya wasn't wearing a mask, and what he'd said made him think back on Deku. Deku never asked the right questions.

"Nobody would assume you've got anything going on, you're effected personality doesn't put off that anything's wrong it's that calm. That's why you don't get asked probing questions."

That was such a long, strong statement. Kasaya looked at him. He was right.

Bakugo continued. "Unlike me. I get loud, then everyone thinks I have an issue, when really I just want someone to back the F up out of my space."

Kasaya chuckled, taking another swig, not sure if he'd be blown apart for doing so.

But it didn't come.

"Deku never asked me the right questions." He concluded.

Kasaya glanced away from him. He meant Midoriya right?

No more words came.

So, that was the end of the conversation.

He had said up on the balcony he was messed up too, somehow. Had something effected and was effecting him too? In a similar respect to how he lived his life?

Saya felt a twist of connection.