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Katsuki had been doing fine, which felt like the worst part of it. He was doing fine at UA, more than that even, he excelled. Moving into the dorms had been a large transition, but once he found a working routine that was fine as well. He had been getting closer to Kirishima and the other idiots, and he actually enjoyed it. Sure, Kamino and All Might’s end still bothered him with occasional nightmares but they were getting further and further apart. All Might helped a lot with that, in his own clumsy way. Since he started being a part of Deku’s training with One for All he talked a lot with All Might. He got closer to Deku as well, the guilt from how he treated him still lingered but it eased as he actually did something about it.
So why did he relapse now , when he’d been in a much worse state mentally a few months ago. His life had just started rebuilding, and he fucked it up. By himself, as fucking usual.
He curses himself sitting on the bathroom floor, back leaning against the stall door. He reaches for the toilet paper with trembling hands, blows his nose, coughing at the acidic burn in his throat. It’s not just his hands that’re trembling, his whole body is shaking, heat spreading all over in waves, sweat trickling down his face along with the tears forcing their way out from his eyes. He can’t tell if it’s from the purging or if he’s actually crying.
Exhausted and detached he shakily grabs onto the toilet seat, heaving himself up. The room swirls around him, hearing going from ringing to muffled underwater sounds as he flushes the toilet. Sitting down on the lid for a few minutes, making sure all senses return before making his way out to the sinks and cleaning himself up.
Bittersweet. The relief soothing his veins at the feeling of his stomach being empty. The way the pressure over his chest has completely lessened, he didn’t even recognize it being there before. Now though, he relishes in the lightness of everything for a few seconds before the anxiety of what he had just done hits him. Because it will.
He hasn’t purged since middle school, since after being through treatment. Three years ago. And he relapsed, for nothing. Because nothing was really wrong. He just ate a little too much for dinner, felt a little bloated, spiraled, purged.
Despite the exhaustion, shame and guilt, the shakiness, acidic taste in his mouth, burning throat, Katsuki feels good. Better than he felt in a long time. And it actually scares him a little. He’d forgotten just how good it feels.
It’s a one time thing though, he tells himself, washing his face with shaky hands. It doesn’t have to develop into anything more. He can stop the relapse here and now, he just won’t do it again, no matter how good it feels. He knows it won’t feel good if he starts slacking behind in school, he knows he can’t do this if he wants to be number one.
*
It didn’t end up being only once. Three days later he found himself back in the bathroom. And the following week it happened three times. Each time it did happen he told himself it was the last time, that he’d stop after just ‘this one time’.
Two sides of him argued, shooting thoughts like rapid fire, back and fourth, logic against emotion, excuses, defense and offense. He felt like a bystander, just listening, acting on whichever part of him won. The purging made him feel in control, it felt right, after eating you flip the switch to restore your body back to normal. Whenever he’s unable to flip the switch his mind and body spirals into an anxious mess. And most of the time he’s able to deal with it, because he knows that the sense of control he gets from purging is fake, and unhealthy. He should be able to relish in the control he has over himself when he chooses not to purge.
He's not able to do that. He can’t find it within himself to see that as control. Eating too much, or at the wrong time of the day, breaking down after eating, crying, sometimes hyperventilating because of it, that’s not what control looks like. So, he develops a new routine.
If anything, Katsuki is inventive and problem solving. After the third week of occasional purging he decides to give himself rules, stricter than the ones he already has in place. Then he’ll be in full control of the whole eating and purging situation, then he’ll stop panicking when he eats. A followed routine equals control, control equals good performance, good performance is what will take him to the top.
The routine he develops partly consists of when and what he will eat. Breakfast after his morning run and shower, at 7am, either a protein smoothie or omelet. Lunch is already the same time each day, but he decides he’ll only allow himself whichever food seems the lightest that day, and eat at most two thirds of the serving. Minimizing the risk of feeling bloated or full. Dinner at 6pm, once again, only light foods and not a whole serving. No snacks in between.
Purging will only be the backup plan, if he breaks the routine in any way, he’ll allow himself to purge. Knowing it’s for the best, his mind won't have to deliberate if he should do it or not, it’ll be a clear line. Fuck up the routine, purge to regain the lost control. Easy.
And it actually works. He keeps his grades stable, he keeps excelling in heroics, he keeps his relationships stable. He doesn’t throw up as much, because he is fucking good at following his rules. He got some questions in the beginning about his eating habits, mainly Kirishima who worried a bit as to why he was eating less which he brushed off. Eventually he seemed to deem Katsuki fine enough to stop worrying.
*
Then the provisional hero licensing exam happened, and Katsuki spiraled not even ten minutes after finding out he failed . He basically ran out of the room, found some distant hallway and ducked into the nearest bathroom he found, his stomach swirling and churning uncomfortably.
He had been convinced he would pass it, it hadn’t even crossed his mind that he , one of the top students of his class, would fail. He’d been excited for it even, excited to show off all bastards who viewed him as a villain that he was far from it. Which did not happen, if anything he only managed to amplify that image of himself.
And that was not a part of his plan, it wasn’t. He was supposed to pass, supposed to do work studies along with his classmates. He would fall behind now. Not just a little either, this is a huge fucking fall.
As he gets on his knees in front of the toilet his stomach is already rolling uncomfortably, and his chest is tight when he tries to breathe, too fucking tight. And his eyes burns and burns but he refuses the tears, and he just tries to breathe, trying to get his lungs to work and they won't. They fucking won’t. He just chokes on his own inhales as shame ripples through him in burning waves.
One arm braced against the disgusting toilet rim he presses his fingers down his throat, searching for the only relief he knows. He didn’t bring any water, he drank enough while waiting for the results.
The tears break through before the first heave, spilling down his face, dripping into the toilet. His fingers barely touch the back of his throat before he lurches forward, watery vomit spilling from his lips and splattering in the toilet. A sob builds its way up his throat and he chokes on it, coughs before heaving again, unprompted into the toilet. From that point he doesn’t even have to use his fingers. Shame, guilt, panic, disgust and fucking losing does the job for him.
Water splashes back onto his face which he doesn’t have time to ponder about, too focused on trying to breathe.
His stomach keeps contracting painfully, sending wave after wave of vomit into the toilet, barely leaving any time to breathe between it, and he can’t get any fucking air . He desperately gasps any chance he gets, chokes halfway through, coughs, which turn into more gagging. And the stall is spinning around him, swirling in his vision and he just wants it to stop, to just please stop. There’s no relief in this anymore, the pressure doesn’t lessen, nothing happens. He just wants to breathe, and it doesn’t work. He vaguely registers that he’s sagged a little to the side and he should be worried about puking on himself or the floor but he can only care about trying to breathe.
And it should work, it always works. Vomiting lessens the pressure squeezing his chest, that’s just how it is. So why can’t he fucking breathe, and he’s not even vomiting anymore, just dry heaving and coughing and gasping. It’s out of control, so out of control and it just worsens his panic because this is supposed to make it feel like he’s in control.
The stall is getting darker and he strains his eyes to see better, blinks, realizes that his hearing is getting muffled as well, and maybe he’s losing it completely, if that hasn’t happened already.
*
He doesn’t remember much from after the panic attack. He knows he eventually calmed down, cleaned up and left with the others on the bus, but it’s all more like a distant memory. He might have passed out, but it’s all blurry. Like how he remembers things from years ago, spotty and maybe not quite accurate.
Katsuki just spirals even further. His routine isn’t working as well anymore, the control he gets from it isn’t satisfying enough, it doesn’t soothe the anxiety crawling in his chest. So, he fixes it. Makes it stricter, removes breakfast completely from his diet, training is always during the afternoon anyway so he’ll get energy from lunch so he’ll get through heroics class.
He cuts down his lunch to half a portion, and only allows himself dinner if he’s accomplished enough during the school day. It works as both a motivation to keep pushing himself to be better as well as keeping the control. Some days he gives in, just to get the satisfaction of the superior control purging gives him. And some days, even if he followed his regimen down to the core, excelled in his classes, he purges anyway. It’s addictive, the feeling afterwards. Bittersweet in a way where both the bitter and the sweet are serving purposes. The bitterness, because he knows how much he’s fucked this shit up, he deserves all the shame and guilt that comes with it. Sweet is the euphoria, the lack of anxiety, the empty stomach.
He’s almost relieved then, when Kirishima is away so much, for whatever mission he’s on. Deku also, they’d both probably hover over him if they were at the dorms more, and not caught up in their own shit. He has free reign to do as he pleases, no one expects him to not be okay, so no one bats an eye when he doesn’t eat, or when he isolates.
Or so he thinks, then he’s pulled aside by Aizawa, after class.
“You look sick.” He comments. Straight to the damn point then. He knew he looked sick, dark circles under his eyes, pale and all that. What really mocked him when he looked in the mirror was the small red dots located over his cheekbones and under his eyes, small ruptured blood vessels from the excessive vomiting. It stopped him from going home last weekend, because if the hag saw, she’d know exactly what it was.
“As long as I don’t look worse than you.” He huffs back, snapping out of thought, raising his eyebrows, challenging.
“Are you okay, Bakugou?” Aizawa presses on, not deterred in the slightest and Katsuki rolls his eyes, hiding the anxiety pooling in his stomach. He hates that question because he knows he doesn’t have any credibility when he answers, whether he is fine or not. He’s not stupid, he knows that people know he’ll say he’s fine either way.
“I’m fucking fine, can I go?” He tries anyway and settles for a glare this time as he gets his backpack from the back of his chair. Hoping Aizawa will let it go, judging on the look he gets from his teacher that won't be the case and he backtracks, lies, “I’m just tired and shit, I’ll deal with it. I trust you, I’ll tell you if there’s a problem.”
The lie rolls off his tongue like second nature, and he schools his face, lessening the frown and meets his teacher's gaze, holding the eye contact long enough to appear sincere, but looking away, nonchalantly, before it appears forced. He can hear his heart beat, not very fast, but heavily, like it’s trying to force itself to be heard. He can play this game, he did for years with his parents. He’s a manipulative asshole, he knows. Guilt twinges below his rib cage when he sees the way Aizawa’s piercing eyes relax a little at his words, and he looks relieved for a second before his expression goes back to indifference. And Katsuki despises lying, everything about it, he’s normally a straight forward guy, he’s always believed that there’s no point sugarcoating things. Except when it comes to this. It’s always easy to lie about this, about himself, and it doesn’t affect anyone else.
“That’s good, thank you Bakugou. You’re free to leave.” He says, softer than usual. Katsuki gives a nod and leaves, maybe too fast, but he has to get out before his heart beats out of his chest.
His mom calls that same night, which actually makes him a little happy, he has missed her, but his stomach also churn with uneasiness. She has a way of just knowing things, which he hates. He hates how he’s learned to get out of her worry with lies just as much. Guilt settles in him as he considers not answering. After a few signals it stops ringing, and he breathes out. Then he rethinks, because she wont worry less, she wont let it go, it’ll only be worse if he doesn’t pick up. He’ll have to lie even more. She might not even know anything.
He picks up his phone and sits down on his bed, unlocks it and presses the ‘call back’ button on the notification. It doesn’t ring for more than one signal before,
“Hi brat. You too busy for your mother?” And he smiles a bit at her tone, yeah, he’s actually fucking missed her since moving to the dorms, even if she can be a real pain in his ass.
“Yeah, you know, the top hero school in the country can do that.” He scoffs back.
“You coming home this weekend instead then?” She asks, and he does want to. He really fucking wants to go home. But he can’t, both because he actually is busy, and because she’d know. He can lie through the phone, but he knows he looks like shit and the only one that can match him in a battle of will is her.
“Can’t, got remedial classes and a shit ton of homework.” He says.
“You’re a goddamn menace, you know that?!”
“What the fuck for?” He squawks back defensively.
“For being so damn busy all the time, you’re fucking worse than I am!”
“It’s your damn fault I failed the provisional exam and have to take the damn classes!” He knows it’s not, of course, but it feels kind of good to not have to bear the blame for it for a couple of minutes.
“And how the fuck is that my fault you damn brat?!” He has to move his phone a few centimeters away from his ear at her answer. He smirks anyway.
“You got the results mailed to you, I failed ‘cause of my shitty attitude, which I clearly got from you!”
At that he hears her snort amused through the phone, “Can’t argue with you on that.” she says. Then he hears his fathers voice, sounding a little further away, “She really can't, Kats. But we miss you, your mom’s the actual menace, especially without you here.”
The guilt grows, sends waves and waves of hurt through him, they had been so damn proud of his recovery, and fuck he had been proud of himself for it. Which sounds so cliché but it’s just fact. And he can’t be proud anymore, he’s back to square fucking one and he doesn’t even want to change anything, which basically puts him at square zero. The only thing that sparks any kind of will to change anything is the guilt he feels towards his parents.
“Are you okay, Kats?” His mom asks suddenly, voice a lot more quiet, the way she sounds when she’s actually serious. He almost breaks down crying then and there. It burns behind his eyes, and he blinks, willing the tears away. His throat hurts and burns from forcing down the persistent sob which threatens to break out.
He swallows, breathes shakily, “I’m okay,” he starts, breathes again, puts the arm he’s not holding the phone with around himself, as if he can keep himself from falling apart that way. “I. I just miss you.” He tries to keep his voice even, but his voice breaks halfway through anyway.
“Baby I fucking miss you too, okay?” He can tell by the way she says it that she probably has tears in her eyes too, and that’s how they work. They’ll bicker back and forth, then they’ll say emotional shit and fight the damn tears to the death. He hears her take a deep breath, then, “Don’t make my fucking cry, brat!”
He laughs wetly, grateful she takes the responsibility for the change in tone, then his dad’s voice cuts through from the background again, “Make her cry, Kats, you should cry some as well, you both need it!” He snorts at that.
“Fuck off!”
“Katsuki is telling you to fuck off!” His mom relays with a laugh herself. They go back and forth for a bit after that before they hang up, not without Katsuki giving an empty promise about calling if he needs them or if anything is wrong.
Because he does need them, and everything is fucking wrong.
*
It’s not until the third remedial class that Katsuki starts to notice things, about Icyhot, specifically. Or maybe it’s Icyhot that starts to pay attention to him? Because he can feel the bastards eyes on him, all the fucking time. It started when they were having lunch, forced to sit at the same table, or not forced, it was either sitting with Icyhot or the loud idiot from Shiketzu and the others. They sat in silence, and if it weren’t for the staring he might even have considered it a comfortable silence.
Then he just doesn’t stop, every time Katsuki looks in his direction, their eyes meet and Todoroki doesn’t even have the damn decency to look away. He’s got no shame, completely unapologetic. And Katsuki should question him, he should tell him off. He doesn’t, because the way the bastard watches him looks knowing. And Katsuki.. does not want to know what the bastard thinks he knows. He doesn’t want the confrontation.
It should be fine, Todoroki has never been the observant type. Too self absorbed with his own shit, he reasons. And he wont say that he himself is not stealing glances of Icyhot, the dense bastard is hot as fuck, and in any other scenario he might have enjoyed the looks from his classmate, but he’s way to paranoid to think it would be because of something like that.
Then he’s caught, in the middle of the night, purging, after devouring an immense amount of food, by Icyhot, of fucking course. It’s bad, it’s really fucking bad. Humiliating.
The only good thing about the whole scenario is that he actually remembered to lock the stall door. He hears the sound of someone entering the communal bathrooms half a second before he gags over the bowl, unable to stop himself, half digested food forcefully pouring out of his mouth, splattering the porcelain. Feels his heart rate spike up, dread pooling his stomach, kicking the nausea up a couple of notches.
“Bakugou?” He hears Todoroki’s questioning voice. For a second he’s relieved, because Icyhot is dense as fuck, easily fooled. Then he remembers the knowing looks or whatever they are and he doubts himself. But what the fuck should he do? He needs to get all the food out, he needs his eight consecutive dry heaves before he can allow himself to be finished, and he’s nowhere near that stage. His breathing picks up, and why can’t he fucking breathe? “Are you sick?” He hears from right outside the stall door.
He can play off of that, Icyhot can’t see him from outside, can’t see the fingers coated in vomit or the way he pushes them down his throat. Admitting such weakness as being sick is close second to the last thing he wants right now, but with the first being keeping the food in his stomach he makes his decision.
“Fucking gold star to you.” He rasps out before shoving his fingers down his throat again, internally cringing at the sound he makes as another rush of vomit splatters the toilet.
And it’s so fucking disgusting, puke trickling from his hand down on his forearm, chunks sticking all over his hand and shin. And just the knowledge someone is on the other side of the door, hearing him gag and cough up everything in his stomach. He’s pretty sure Icyhot has been talking to him but his focus is solely on keeping his panic at bay, making sure his stomach is empty. Trying to finish as quickly as possible.
When the gagging turns non efficient he starts counting in his head. He’s shaking all over, stomach painfully cramping, as he dry heaves once. Fingers forced down again, twice. The third time he can feel something coming up at the back of his throat, but not actually getting it up. Nevermind then. He Shoves his fingers down and holds them there, heaving forcefully and manages to get it up on the third try. He starts his count over again, counting every time his body lurches without bringing anything up. Black spots blinks in and out of his vision and he stops to take a breath.
With his face burning from the force of his retching he gets to eight. He relaxes, still braced over the toilet, just breathes for a minute. His whole body aches, shakes and cramps. But he feels empty, euphoric. It’s not usually this intense, but the sheer will to get it over with as fast as possible has him drained. More so than usual. It’s heavy, everything, every limb, his eyelids, the world pressing down on him and he closes his eyes, not dealing with the graying vision.
“Open the door, Bakugou.” He’s abruptly pulled out of his own mind at the authority in the bastard's voice. He’s never heard him sound like that, he’s either completely monotone or fucking sassy. “I’ll melt the lock if you don’t answer me.” He continues, and fuck no.
“Just. Fuckin’, give me a damn minute.” He answers between heavy breaths, voice hoarse and thick. He grabs at the toilet paper, rips off a piece to clean off his face, hand and arm, flushes it down the toilet and stands up on shaky legs.
Gray areas dance across his field of vision, emerging from the lower half, edges closer to the middle, threatening to take over completely. He blinks, blinks again, stumbles out of the stall. Hands hover in front of him and he nearly staggers away from them on jelly legs before they grab onto him, holding him steady. His vision slowly returns, along with his other senses. He’s cold, he realizes when a shiver forces its way through his shoulders, down his arms. He shouldn’t feel cold, he usually feels heated, too heated even after purging. The arms holding onto him feels good though, they’re warm, and then one of the arms moves to his back and warmth spreads from it. Another shiver runs down his spine as the heat flows through him, into his chest, down his sides, up towards his neck. It feels good, really good. For a second he forgets about the situation, forgets what he just did.
“Are you alright, Bakugou?” He asks and Katsuki drags himself away from the comfort, going for the sink to wash up, stumbles a little.
“I’m fucking fine.” He scowls at Todoroki through the mirror, his words sound more tired and hoarse than angry and poisonous. They do nothing to convince his classmate. The only comfort he has is that Todoroki actually looks like a mess himself, although the fact that he kind of looks like a hot mess takes the tiny comfort away.
“I’ll walk with you to Recovery Girl.”
Katsuki braces his hands on the sink, leans against it with his head down, breathes. He can’t look at his disheveled appearance in the mirror beside Icyhot’s, disgusting, he’s so fucking disgusting. He needs to calm the anxiety pooling within him, amplified to the hundreds by humiliation and shame. The ache in his throat transforms, no longer scratchy and raw, it turns thick and cramping. It spreads behind his eyes, burning. No. No. He won’t fucking cry.
He clears his throat, blinks and keeps his head down as he speaks, “Just ate something bad, I’ll..” He almost chokes on a sob but manages to hold it back. Why the fuck is he crying? “‘m fine, gonna go to bed.”
“You were throwing up for a very long time, and you almost passed out just now. You are not ‘fine’.” Shouto says. “I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone.”
Katsuki takes a deep breath, he’d argue, or snap, or storm out, threaten even, if he had the energy. He doesn’t, all he has is stupid tears in his eyes, shame and disgust with himself and his behavior. And he really doesn’t feel well. Everything hurts. His whole body is sore, heavy and weak. His head is pounding, can feel every beat of his heart throbbing through his head. And he’s dizzy, so, so dizzy. And maybe Todoroki is right not wanting to leave him alone?
“I don’t want to see Recovery Girl.” He chokes out, and his voice sounds so weak. Thick with tears, almost breaking in the middle of the sentence.
“Okay. Come on.” He feels himself being grabbed, allowing Todoroki to support him as they exit the bathroom.
He’s barely aware enough to realize that he’s not being led to his own room, and it’s when he slumps down on Todoroki’s futon that he actually registers it. By then he’s way too tired to do anything about it. He just drinks the water he’s being given and then he’s out.
When he wakes up the next morning there’s a note on the nightstand.
I’ll tell Sensei that you’re sick, Yaoyorozu made you breakfast, it’s in the fridge.
- Shouto
*
It gets to the point where everything he eats, no matter if he follows his schedule or not, settles heavily in his stomach. Sloshing, rumbling and swirling, reminding him of it, constantly. The only time he can focus is when his stomach’s empty, because when it’s not it is all he can think about. The weight of it, no matter how little he’s eaten. He immediately feels his insides start working on digesting it, it leaves him nauseous with guilt.
It doesn’t matter how much he cuts down his lunch intake, the only way for him to be able to focus in heroics is if he throws up whatever he’s eaten before it. Which defeats the purpose of lunch, completely. Because when he does throw it up he’s left shaky, breathless and dizzy as soon as he pushes himself and can’t accomplish anything anyway.
So he stops eating lunch. That way he doesn’t have to push his body by purging it back up before training. And it’s hard, because by lunch time he’s hungry as fuck, meaning if he goes to the cafeteria the risk of him losing control is there. It’s also a lot harder to hide it, going to the cafeteria and not getting a tray would certainly set off warning bells for his classmates. So he avoids the cafeteria completely, stays in the classroom during lunch, sometimes he goes to the roof.
It affects everything. He realizes that in a way he hadn’t noticed in middle school. It wasn’t until he was in recovery and started gaining everything lost back that he actually saw it. This time he knows what it’s going to affect, and he sees it happen.
His mood and motivation wavers, it goes up in bursts of euphoria and down in depressive episodes of self doubt. His energy levels drop, training leaves his heart pounding and him breathless and dizzy. And with how his quirk already affects his blood pressure on a day where he eats and drinks how he should, it really affects it when he gets dehydrated. He tries his best to mitigate the sudden bursts of dizziness and near fainting episodes by standing up slowly, shifting his weight from side to side when he has to stand for long, drinking a lot, making sure he’s hydrated.
He pulls away from his friends too, keeps busy in his dorm room, growling at anyone who tries to pry him out for movie nights or ‘squad hangouts’. Whatever energy he has he’s got to spend on studying and training, and he didn’t plan to make friends in the first place so it’s not like it matters.
When Icyhot asks him to spar after heroics though, he agrees. He won’t pass up a chance to beat him, especially after that episode where Todoroki found him in the bathroom and he passed out on his fucking bed. It’s a chance to regain some of the dignity he lost.
“I’ll fuck you up.” He states in answer as he changes direction to move towards the sparring area instead of the locker rooms. In the corner of his eye he sees Deku run up to Uraraka and say something. Uraraka’s face lights up and then they move towards the other end of the sparring area. Whatever.
“I’d prefer it the other way around.” Todoroki says with a low tone. And Katsuki fucking blanches, at a loss because if it was anyone other that the half bastard who said it he would be completely sure it was suggestive. Does he want it to be suggestive? Probably. He glances at Todoroki and he looks as innocent as always.
“Wha-. Ah whatever, fuck you.” He settles for that and a scowl in response when his mind won’t supply him with anything more.
They spar quirkless, because without their provisional licenses they’re not allowed to spar using their quirks without supervision. And seeing Deku float up in the air on the other side of the room, reminding him of just that fact sends hot rage boiling through his veins, and maybe that's the only reason he actually succeeds in knocking Todoroki on his ass the first round. He loses the next round though, when Todoroki manages to pin him to the ground and hold him there.
They’re both tired from heroics, so by the fourth round Katsuki’s movement is already sloppy and uncoordinated. Which Icyhot of course takes great advantage of and when he goes to knee him in the chest the brief moment Todoroki is bent down, Todoroki grabs his supporting leg and they both tumble to the ground.
Katsuki’s back hits the math and he feels the air rush out of his lungs, before he has the time to even try to breathe Todoroki is above him, pinning his arms down with a rare vindictive smirk on his face. Their eyes meet for a brief second as Katsuki tries to draw in a breath and he sees the smirk fall off Todoroki’s face and turns into a frown instead, which is also a rare expression. It quickly smooths out though, and Todoroki gives a curt ‘I won’ as he climbs off.
Katsuki sits up and coughs, struggling to get his breathing back to normal, both from the fall and from exertion. He grabs the bottle of water Todoroki holds out to him and takes a few sips. He feels more than he sees Icyhot sit down a few feet away from him, and the air feels thick. It kind of makes him want to leave, now. He knows though, that as soon as he stands up he’ll have to fight the dizziness. There’s already black spots in his vision from their intense sparring and considering the calculating gaze he feels from Todoroki’s direction he won’t risk it. So he stays sitting, focusing on the sounds from Pink cheeks and Deku. Plays with the cap of his water bottle.
“My sister’s sick.” Todoroki breaks the silence. And why the fuck he says that, Katsuki has no fucking clue, he doesn’t have time to ponder over it more either before Todoroki continues, “She’s got an eating disorder.” And okay, that makes Katsuki suck in a sharp breath. Does he fucking know? The most dense person in their entire class? All those knowing looks he’s received haunts him and he feels his chest tighten into a knot. Unless Deku’s gone and run his damn mouth about it he shouldn't know. There’s no way Deku doesn’t know he’s had an eating disorder before , they’ve never said anything about it out loud to each other but the nerd’s observant as shit and Inko is the one his own mom confides in so he could have heard it from her if he didn’t connect the dots himself.
There’s also the fact that Deku hasn’t pried, and didn’t pry when he was absent in middle school. There’s only been concerned and calculating glances that Katsuki has done his best to ignore. But it all points to Deku already knowing what the problem is, and that information is also something he’d like to ignore. Keep his walls up, make himself unapproachable, which is probably also just a sign to Deku.
“She’s mostly recovered actually, so maybe it’s not fair to her to say she is sick.” Todoroki breaks him out of his thoughts and he realizes he hasn’t even answered.
Katsuki doesn’t look up at him, he can’t meet his eyes. This could just be Todoroki trauma dumping, and yes, if anyone in their class has a trauma dumping free pass it’s Icyhot. So he decides this time not to answer, actually a little curious about the subject. He shouldn’t get ahead of himself, not even Kirishima has said much about his habits. And if anyone would figure it out it’d be him. A spike of anxiety shoots through him anyway, because if Todoroki’s sister has an eating disorder, he might not be as dense about this particular subject.
He takes a slow breath, wills his catastrophic thinking away. Exchanges it for logic. He’s not the type to have an eating disorder, people don’t expect him to, which works well in his favor. People might suspect something is off, but they wouldn’t connect it to him being fucking bulimic. Which he knows he is, he’s past the point of denying anything to himself. He’s well aware of the dangers, the downsides. But he’d be worse off without it, he’d spiral in anxiety, nightmares and he’d lose control over everything if he didn’t have his ‘out’. It’s the only thing keeping him floating.
“She’s also said that she’ll always have an eating disorder, that that isn’t something that ever goes away completely, so maybe that means it’s okay to say that she’s sick?”
Katsuki can’t even count how many times he’s heard that same thing, and that is something that pisses him off. Maybe it’s supposed to be comforting, that he’s supposed to feel validated or some shit for never going a day without thinking about food. He remembers telling one of the nurses at the rehabilitation center when he got discharged that he’d prove her wrong about that. That he’d make sure he would get to the point of being completely without it, no matter how impossible people made it sound. Guilt creeps up his throat at the thought, pulses along with his heartbeat sending what feels like acid through his chest. Because look at him now. ‘If anyone can fucking do it, it’s you!’ she had answered, and he remembers that clearly. It was a challenge. He swallows past the lump in his throat.
“Maybe you shouldn’t say anything about it at all. She might want some fucking privacy?” He answers when he feels sure his voice won’t give away any of the fear or anxiety he’s feeling.
“She’s okay with me talking about it. It’s not something she should feel ashamed of,” He says as he shifts a little, then continues, “being sick is not something you can control.”
It feels so wrong to hear that, in a way. He knows, logically, that Todoroki is right, at least in some aspects. But when it’s an illness that completely centers around just that, control, it feels wrong. Because Katsuki chooses this, he actively chooses not to stop. He’s got a whole list of coping mechanisms he can use, instead of purging, instead of binging, instead of starving. A list he wrote for himself, just for a relapse scenario. He’s even got a super cliche letter to himself that he was practically forced into writing in recovery, that he was supposed to read if he did relapse. All of that is tucked away in his desk, and he chooses not to look for it.
He didn’t even take it out at the beginning of his relapse. If he doesn’t try it, he won’t fail at it, he’ll keep the control. As long as he chooses what he does and how he does things, he’s the one in control. If he tries it and it doesn’t work- he’s not even going to think about that.
When answering he chooses not to point out the aspects and indications of the word ‘control’ though.
“Labeling her as sick can take away the feeling of accomplishment that being in recovery gives her, make it feel hopeless or whatever.” He answers, still doesn’t look up at Todoroki when he speaks, he doesn’t want to see what kind of looks on his face, and he realizes that this is also one of those things they brought up in therapy. He’s avoidant as fuck, and he had tried not to be but he’s back there again. It’s not always obvious, because he’s a manipulative bastard that knows how to steer conversations that make it seem like he’s not avoiding anything. He knows not to question Deku about what he knows, because he wants to avoid the confrontation. He knows to avoid eye contact when there’s a risk of giving things away that he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to deal with or analyze how Todoroki is looking at him right now, he doesn’t want to give Todoroki any openings to question him further about his statement that might have revealed too much already. And he knows he won’t question why Todoroki brought this up with him of all people. Because if the reason why is that he has some theory bullshit going on that might actually be the truth, Katsuki does not want to deal with it.
So instead he takes another sip of water, feeling very ready to leave this fucking conversation. Avoid it.
Todoroki seems to contemplate his answers for a moment, then he says, “That makes sense.” before he stands up. “Thank you, you’re good to talk to.” he continues.
“I’m fucking not.” He snorts, shaking his head amused at the statement, slowly standing up as well, braces himself for the black spots and ringing in his ears. It’s not so bad, but he really want’s to fucking leave so he adds, “Dumbass.” in place of goodbye before walking away. Todoroki seems to take the hint as he walks towards Deku and Ochako instead of after him.
*
He finds himself not minding it as much as he thought he would when he notices Todoroki starting to gravitate towards him. He still keeps to his dorm room most of the time, but whenever it’s his turn to cook during the week Todoroki usually sits down at the counter, and maybe he does that when the others cook as well, Katsuki wouldn’t know. But it’s almost kind of nice, he doesn’t talk much and Katsuki doesn’t either. Most times Todoroki seems consumed by his homework, and Katsuki uses him as a test subject after all the complaints he’s gotten about making the food too spicy. It also helps distract him from the hunger, and from being in the kitchen over all. He’d rather not be in there, but he’s got cooking duty four times a week.
Todoroki also starts walking with him to class in the mornings, which is slightly more annoying considering the fact that he usually walks with the ‘squad’, Denki’s words, not his. The annoying thing being Mina, because she got her big crush on Todoroki, which in turn leads her to shamelessly flirt all the way from the dorms to the main building. And Katsuki hates it. He can’t fucking stand it. He doesn’t know how many times he snaps at her during their walks, or how many times he storms off ahead of them. He doesn’t give a shit what they think of it, it’s just annoying.
Even Todoroki seems to think it’s annoying, and Mina probably realizes that after a while because after a few days she actually stops. But then she sends Katsuki pitying and fucking forgiving eyes instead, and what the actual fuck is her problem? He just scowls back at her whenever she does it.
Todoroki does it again, in training a few days later. They’ve just left gym gamma, where they were for forty minutes doing excessive training with the sole purpose to tire themselves out, an addition to the ‘real’ assignment. Katsuki understands the sentiment of it, heroes often have to do missions completely drained so of course it’s something they should prepare for, it’s just that Katsuki does not feel well when they get to Ground Beta, at all. He registers Todoroki coming to stand beside him, but that’s about it.
“Okay, listen up.” Everyone straightens up instinctively at Aizawa's voice. Katsuki doesn’t, he wants to sit down. The edges of his vision blurs slightly, the ache in his head has turned numb and foggy.
“You will be split up in groups of three, some of you may have already noticed that Shinsou is joining us today, meaning we’re 21 and it’ll be an even split. All groups will be given separate instructions, there will be a 90 minute timer and you will finish before that timer ends. Questions?”
Katsuki involuntarily tunes out whatever questions that were asked. He feels like he’s underwater, being weighed down at the same time as he’s floating around. The voices around him are muffled. At least until-
“Bakugou?” It’s accompanied by a hand on his shoulder and he blinks, shakes his head a little, trying to clear the fog that’s settled over him. “Are you okay?” It’s Todoroki. He shakes off the hand and straightens up.
“I’m fine.” He mutters, trying to sound annoyed. He looks around, sees that his classmates are already forming groups, and he realizes he completely missed which group he’s in.
“We’re in the same team, it’s you, me and Jirou.” Todoroki states.
“Our instructions just say ‘ Head to the tallest building and search the seventh floor for anything unusual.’, so are you guys ready to go?” Jirou says from behind Bakugou, and when the fuck did she get there?
He makes the mistake of meeting Todoroki’s eyes, they seem hesitant and searching. He narrows his gaze, says, “Yeah, lets fucking go!”
After that Katsuki isn’t entirely aware of how the next hour plays out, his focus is on trying not to pass out or throw up. Not really like he has anything to throw up though, so he doesn’t have to worry about that too much. But his head keeps swimming and everything’s just foggy and blurry and he stumbles more than he’s willing to admit. He pretends not to notice the concerned looks from both of his classmates.
They found more instructions at the tallest building, telling them to meet up another one of the teams, team G, and acquire a red flag from them, said team apparently had different instructions about only giving the flag away to the team who could give them the second half of a pass code, which forced them to search out even more teams and so on. They eventually found out that team C had the pass code, but they weren’t allowed to give it out.
However, their last instructions, given to them by team C, instead of the pass code, lead them down to a cement basement, like a smaller mall parking garage without ramps. There’s a three part puzzle they need to solve to acquire information that they in turn can swap out for the second half of the pass code. The first part of the puzzle didn’t give them the information they wanted however, instead they got the instructions to deliver a message to team A. Who in turn would give them a clue for the third part of the puzzle.
Or something like that. It’s fucking confusing on a good day so. All Katsuki cares about is to just get this damn class over with because it’s getting worse. He recognizes the feeling, the symptoms. He has experienced it before, on multiple occasions, maybe not for this long, or this bad. His blood pressure is way too low. But he can’t lay down, because he’s in fucking class. He can’t drink, because he doesn’t have his water bottle with him. He’ll just have to push through.
That would be easier though, if the very real threat of either passing out or throwing up, in front of his classmates wasn’t looming over him. However, Jirou takes the task of delivering the message, leaving him with Todoroki in the shitty basement.
They’re standing on opposite sides of what looks like a wooden wheel of some kind, that they use as a makeshift table for the time. Some old religious book, two notes and an old jagged disc of some kind with holes drilled into it in front of them.
Katsuki is reading one of the notes, trying to make sense of the words. Blinking, he tries to will the lingering dizziness away. It just keeps getting worse. He leans against the table when he feels like he’s starting to sway in place. His stomach roils uncomfortably as his body temperature seems to rise, a warm feeling spreading through his chest. The acidic taste in his mouth and tight feeling in his throat tells him he’ll probably throw up soon.
And yeah, that’s fucking it. He closes his eyes, tries to take a deep breath, only for his chest to constrict and he coughs instead, almost gags at the feeling. He lets go of the table to bring a hand to his mouth, and maybe he stumbles or something because suddenly there’s hands on him, supporting him.
“Jus’ need a sec’” He tries to convey, although he’s not sure if it’s even comprehensible.
He vaguely registers himself being lowered to the ground, but his ears are ringing and ringing and it almost makes him mad because he can’t fucking hear anything.
He feels sick, really fucking sick and it’s like it consumes him. There’s a pressure pushing his head down between his knees, and a cold hand presses against his forehead. He leans into it because it feels good, feels like relief. Which is all he fucking wants. He doesn’t know for how long he sits like that but eventually his senses start returning to him, he hears Todoroki’s voice and he frowns a little at how professional he sounds, then he hears another voice coming from their emergency radio and he realizes he’s talking to Aizawa.
“‘S fine.” He mumbles through the haze, still not even registering what they’re saying to each other.
“You are not fine, Bakugou.” He realizes when Todoroki says that, that he’s practically slumped sideways against Todoroki’s chest. He weakly tries to push himself away, Todoroki lets him but keeps a hand on his back and he doesn’t try to do anything about it. Doesn’t have the energy.
“Blood pressure‘s low.” He just says as he leans forward and braces his arms on his knees. Everything’s still foggy and distorted in some way, and he’s too out of it to care anymore about how weak he appears.
“Lay down.” He feels himself being lowered again, and then he’s completely out.
*
When he wakes up it’s on a bed in Recovery Girls office, IV in his arm and the voice of his Sensei. He blinks a few times before he shifts a little. He recognizes that he feels better than before, then there’s a familiar voice,
“Hey brat.”
There’s no stopping the tears this time, and he doesn’t even know if it's from relief or dread. Arms wrap around him and he just sobs.