Chapter Text
Katsuki blinks. A strange sight comes into focus. It looks a lot like the ceiling fan in his bedroom at home, but it’s at the wrong angle. It should be closer- just to his right, if he’s lying in bed.
Bed.
But, he isn’t in bed, is he?
He can feel the floor hard and unyielding beneath him. His limbs ache. He furrows his brow and feels something pull at the skin on his face.
“Wha-?”
His voice chokes off, catching on the thick, coppery build-up in his throat. His mouth is dry. Katsuki licks his lips, but there isn’t much moisture to work with. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to find the will to turn over and find his water bottle. He picks up his arm and pats the area around him blindly. Nothing useful is within reach, but he can feel the frayed edges of his woven rug.
Why is he on the floor?
He’s so tired.
His phone chimes across the room.
Katsuki turns his head toward the sound and promptly regrets it. His vision swims, nausea roiling in his stomach. His head pulses with pain. The overall effect is so terrible that for a moment he's gripped with the urge to cry.
(He fights through it, of course. He hasn’t cried in this house for over a decade- he isn’t about to start again now.)
He grits his teeth and rolls over, gasping. He’s closed his eyes again, but he manages to pull himself into a child’s pose. He sits back into his hips breathing heavily through his nose.
He isn’t sure how long he stays there. Eventually he is able to open his eyes. This time the world stays mostly in focus, though the headache hasn’t budged.
He hisses through his teeth- the hardwood floor is sticky with blood. He raises a hand to the back of his head and probes his skull. He winces. The flesh is tender. His hair is tangled and matted. Through it he can feel the jagged edges of a wound. It hurts like a bitch.
A flash of a memory comes to him- the hag boxing him in at the bottom of the stairwell. Screaming. Furious.
Katsuki huffs a breath out his mouth, working through the aftershocks of nausea.
Obviously she’d been pissed off the night before if she just left him passed out in a pool of his own blood. She usually insists on bandaging him up afterwards herself.
Why can't he remember?
His phone chimes again. How long has it been since the first one? He can’t tell. He groans breathlessly as he pushes himself up. The red digits of his alarm clock glow insistently from the bedside table. He tries to read the time, but gives up before the numbers can solidify. Too much effort.
He stumbles to his desk. His phone is plugged in on top of it. The screen is a web of cracks. His memory doesn’t provide him any clues this time, but he assumes the hag broke it in her rage. She’s done it before. He taps the unlock key and sighs a little as he types his pin- it still functions at least.
His texts pop up and he closes his eyes on instinct. The messaging window is so bright and white compared to his lockscreen- a mockup of a Ground Zero logo that stupid Deku drew for him a week earlier. Katsuki actually likes it- it's sharp and intense and dangerous. Just like him. Turns out all that sketching and scribbling was worth something, in the end.
He blinks his eyes back open, squinting. It’s difficult to read through the cracks, and the screen is too damn bright, but he can eventually make out a couple texts from Kirishima.
shitty hair
Do you want a ride to campus? :)
shitty hair
i’m stopping at 7/11 for breakfast. What do you want, bakubrooooo
i’m buying
Katsuki fixes his eyes back on the clock. It finally slides into focus, easier after the ordeal of reading his texts. It blinks back at him- 5:46 am. He has some luck after all. He braces himself, then narrows his eyes to slits and turns back to his phone.
lord explosion murder
yes
lord explosion murder
I already ate
He hisses as a shard of the screen embeds itself in his thumb. It takes a few tries to pluck it loose. His fingers aren’t working the way they usually do. This revelation makes him nauseous, but there isn't time to stop and consider it. He has to get ready to go to the dorms- Kirishima usually arrives at 6:15. He has just enough time.
As he staggers to the bathroom 20 minutes later Katsuki starts to panic.
Just gathering his uniform, drinking a half bottle of lukewarm water, and packing his backpack ate up so much time. He had to keep stopping to close his eyes and breathe away his nausea. He’s not going to be able to take the shower he so desperately needs. He huffs a breath out his nose.
He’ll just wash up in the sink. It’ll be fine.
When he meets his own eyes in the mirror, his stomach drops into his feet.
“Fuck.”
The swear croaks out of him feebly. He wishes it sounded angrier.
The blond spikes of his hair are saturated with red. There are two wide trails of dried blood beneath his nostrils. The red disappears down the back of his neck, but he can feel it sticking to the skin of his back.
He needs to get clean.
He tears at his t-shirt, but whines as he tries to pull it over his head. It hurts . He stops and grips the counter, breaths puffing against the cotton now wrapped around his face.
He tells himself to calm down. To stop being such a pathetic wimp. He’s handled worse pain than this. He’s faced down a room full of villains single-handed. He’s endured the hag’s punishments for years. He can handle this.
He’s fine .
(He ignores the little voice inside him that's screaming. He’s been hurt before, sure, but not like this. Not when he needs to get through a whole day of school and training and he only has ten minutes until Shitty Hair picks him up and there’s so much blood and-)
He rips the shirt off his head with a gasp. He doesn’t give himself time to feel the pain. He turns the faucet on at full blast and dunks his head under the stream of cold water.
He passes out.
He comes to, coughing and sputtering, his cheek sealing the drain. He flings his head backwards, splattering the bathroom with pink-tinged water.
His phone is open on the counter. The time reads 6:07.
He’s fine. He was only out for a few seconds. He’s fine. So he’d almost drowned in the bathroom sink. So what?
On the bright side, the near drowning provides him with a very useful shock of adrenaline. He’s able to scrub the blood off his hair, face and neck. After a brief moment of panicked indecision, he rules that he can’t bother with the rest of it. He doesn’t have time, and it isn’t physically possible to reach anyway, not with his head pounding the way it is. He cringes as he slips into a fresh undershirt- it’ll definitely be ruined by the end of the day. Another thing for the hag to get pissed about.
A few minutes later and he’s blessedly, miraculously, ready. Well, passably ready anyway. He hasn’t done his customary workout. He hasn’t eaten breakfast, or showered. He’s still partially covered in blood and almost definitely has a couple open wounds. He’s leaving a giant mess behind that he’ll probably get murdered for next weekend.
But he looks like he’s ready. He has his school stuff. He’s in uniform. He hesitates for a moment by the door and then grabs a black beanie off the top of his dresser. He’s not sure what his head looks like, but it hurts. It hurts a lot.
Better to cover it up.
Katsuki walks down the steps as quickly and quietly as he can. He keeps a hand wrapped firmly around the rail. He's not sure he'd survive a tumble down the stairs right now.
He jams his feet into his high-tops and then he’s out the door. No sign of his parents.
He indulges in a small sigh of relief.
Kirishima’s already parked out front, grinning at him from the driver’s seat of his stupid electric car. Katsuki crosses the driveway at a jog, doing his best to ignore the pulsating pain in his skull.
“Hey man!” Kirishima says when he opens the passenger side door. “How was your weekend?”
“Shit.”
Katsuki slams the door shut behind him and winces as the sound shoots through his brain like a bullet. Shitty Hair’s smile falls away, his red eyebrows pulling together in a frown.
“Whoa, you don’t look so good. You sick or something?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
His friend grimaces in sympathy.
“Damn. It must be bad if you’re admitting it. You should stay home and rest, Bakubro. I’ll call Aizawa and-”
“No!”
Katsuki didn’t intend to yell, but it does the trick- Kirishima stows his phone.
Unfortunately, he also twists in his seat to rest his palms on Katsuki’s shoulders. Katsuki can’t bear to meet his friend’s gaze, so he stares down at Kirishima’s 7/11 coffee in the cupholder instead.
“Dude.” Shitty Hair’s voice is soft and concerned. It makes Katsuki want to break something. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m fucking sure, alright? Let’s just go.”
Kirishima is still for a moment, but eventually turns to face the wheel.
“Okay.” He says, shifting the car into reverse. “But put your seatbelt on. It’s the manly thing to do!”
This is why he's the best, Katsuki thinks. Kirishima doesn’t get offended or upset. He doesn’t ask him what’s wrong a million times, or try to make him explain anything, like Deku. He just goes with it. He gives Katsuki his space. Respects his boundaries.
“Thanks.”
He says it softly. Kirishima flicks the turn signal on. Katsuki closes his eyes.
“No worries, man.”
The next thing Katsuki knows, they’re parked in the UA garage and Kirishima is shaking him by the lapels.
“Fuck- I’m awake! Stop!”
Katsuki can feel the beginnings of nausea crouching in his throat. His head is pounding.
The lighting inside the car is strange- the unnatural shadows of the parking garage warping its proportions. Shitty Hair’s face is uncharacteristically pale. He’s got a weird, crazed look in his eye. He maintains his white-knuckled grip on Katsuki's uniform blazer.
“What was that?" he asks, eyes wide and frightened.
“What?”
“What do you mean, what? You wouldn’t wake up, Bakugo! That was scary as fuck!”
“I-” Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut again. Why is Kirishima being so loud ? “Didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Nightmares?”
Thankfully Katsuki can't spare the blood to blush.
Kirishima started showing up at his door in the early hours of the morning shortly after they moved into the dorms. Katsuki still isn’t sure how Shitty Hair had convinced him to open the door that first time, but he did.
They’ve fallen into a routine, of sorts. Katsuki has a nightmare. Kirishima hears it through the wall and comes to his door with some lame-ass excuse like, “My night light burned out.” or “There’s a monster under my bed, dude, and it is super freaking me out.”
Katsuki always lets him in, even though he knows he shouldn't.
Sometimes they play video games. Sometimes Kirishima sleeps in his bed while Katsuki studies at the desk. On one mortifying occasion Katsuki fell asleep on his friend’s shoulder- when he woke up there was a spot of drool on Kirishima’s favorite Crimson Riot t-shirt. Shitty Hair had insisted that it wasn’t a big deal, but Katsuki nearly died of embarrassment.
If the hag ever finds out he’ll never live it down.
“No, not-” Katsuki sighs and scrubs his face. He’s finding it more and more difficult to concentrate. The car’s beige console swims before him. He swallows down a lump of nausea.
“I might be sick but I don’t wanna go home. I’ll just sleep it off at the dorms.”
Kirishima breathes a sigh of relief.
“Okay, good. I mean, not good that you’re sick, obviously. That blows, man. But I’m really glad you’re gonna rest. I’ll talk to the teachers for you, okay? I’ll bring you your homework and stuff!”
Katsuki just nods.
Shitty Hair hovers nervously by his elbow during their walk to the dorms. Normally Katsuki would be pissed off by this, but right now he can’t find the energy to care. Besides, he’s already passed out once this morning. Having Kirishima nearby can't hurt.
(Not that he's in need of comfort or help or anything. He isn't weak. He doesn't need anyone to coddle him.)
They make it inside without incident. The elevator arrives just as they enter the lobby.
Todoroki steps out.
Katsuki keeps his eyes on the floor as his classmates exchange hellos.
“You’re looking even more disheveled than usual today, Bakugo. Rough morning?”
Katsuki growls and looks up to glare at him. As soon as they make eye contact, Todoroki pulls backward in shock, eyebrows furrowing.
Shit.
“Fuck off, Icyhot!”
“Bakugo!” Kirishima chastises, laying a hand on his arm. “Go easy on him, Todoroki. He’s not feeling well.”
Katsuki shakes off his grip and stomps into the elevator. Shitty Hair follows him and pushes the button for the fourth floor.
Katsuki chances another look at Todoroki as the doors close. What did he see in Katsuki's face to make him react that way?
What does he know?
The other boy is still standing where they left him in the lobby. His heterochromatic eyes pierce through Katsuki, full of suspicion. Katsuki scowls and looks back down at his shoes. The doors click shut.
Katsuki and Kirishima ride up to the fourth floor in silence.
Kirishima leaves him at his door. He wants to accompany him inside to “make sure you’re okay, Bakugo,” but Katsuki won’t have it. He’s been weak enough already. He doesn’t need to be tucked in and kissed on the forehead for fuck’s sake.
Katsuki locks the door behind him. He doesn’t even bother to take off his shoes. He just drops his backpack and falls face down onto the bed. He’s asleep by the time he hits the sheets.