Chapter Text
Katsuki woke up to light shining behind his eyelids that was too bright to be coming from his window, a bed that was too comfortable to be his own, and a dry feeling on his skin that indicated he hadn’t done his skincare routine the night before. He opened his eyes to the way too fucking bright light and groaned as he tried to shift his sore legs. Katsuki blinked up at the yellowed ceiling above him, identifying it as the infirmary ceiling that he had woken up to many times before. He searched through his foggy, haven’t-properly-woken-up memories to remember what fight could’ve happened to bring him there.
“You’re awake,” Katsuki turned his head to see a wide-eyed Todoroki. The half and half bastard was sitting at the edge of his chair, rapidly flicking his creepy-ass, asymmetrical eyes all around Katsuki’s face and body as if searching for injuries, even though they were already in the fucking infirmary. What the fuck was the icyhot piece of shit expecting to find?
“Are you…” Todoroki’s eyes met Katsuki’s again, “Feeling okay?”
“I’m fucking fine, Icyhot,” Katsuki answered, “What the hell even happened.”
“You passed out from blood loss,” the bastard looked down to the floor, “I should have taken care of your injuries before attempting to talk with you. I’m sorry, Bakugou,” Katsuki scowled at the boy’s rushed apology. Half and half looked like a guilty puppy that chewed up some socks. Katsuki was about to yell out a response when the piece of shit continued talking, “I was so focused on what had happened on the roof that it didn’t even occur to me that you were at risk of blood loss. It was a terrible slip up on my part, and-”
The roof. Blood loss. Todoroki’s analytical eyes searching for any sign of weakness. Apologies.
He should kill himself as an apology.
Moths.
“-I’m so sorry that I’ve put you into this situation. It was just a blur from the moment you passed out, so I-“
“Why the hell are we in the infirmary, Icyhot?”
Todoroki looked up, the kicked-puppy guilt growing to levels that rivaled Deku, “I’m sorry, Bakugou.”
“What the fuck did you do?” Katsuki's eyes narrowed on his classmate.
“I panicked,” it wasn’t the confession Katsuki was looking for, “I was completely clueless on how to handle the situation, and then you passed out, and I didn’t know what to do.”
“What the fuck did you do?!”
“I don’t know what else I could have done!”
“Bakugou,” both students froze as the voice of their teacher entered. Aizawa stalked to the end of Katsuki’s bed, gently placing his hands on the bar there. He couldn’t tell from the man’s face what he was thinking, “I’m glad to see you’re awake. We have some things to talk about,” Katsuki leaned back against the wall behind him, staring down at the teacher as he did so. The man didn’t take the bait, simply turned to the bastard across from them, “Todoroki, our discussion will probably be lengthy. You should head back to the dorms. Let yourself rest.”
Todoroki, the bastard that he was, nodded and quickly shuffled out of the room. Once the door to the infirmary was soundly closed, Aizawa spoke again, “What happened to your arm?
“Are you asking because you don’t know or because you want me to say something specific?” Katsuki feigned nonchalance as he continued to attempt a staredown.
The older man reluctantly humored him, “Todoroki only told me what happened on the roof and afterward. He had speculations about your arm, but I need to know for sure. Would you like to talk about something specific?”
“I’m not saying shit,” Katsuki replied.
“We have to start with something, Bakugou. I’m not going to just leave this alone.”
“Sucks for you then.”
“If you don’t want to start with anything specific, then I’m going to start where I want to. You understand that?”
Katsuki didn’t say anything.
Aizawa sighed, “Did you hurt yourself, Bakugou?”
He gave no response.
Aizawa nodded as if he received an answer, “Have you ever hurt yourself before this?”
Still, no response.
Aizawa frowned, “Is this the first time you’ve tried to end your life?”
Nothing.
“Do you often have the urge to end it?”
Yes.
“No,” Katsuki willed the moth away with his answer.
Aizawa raised his brow in surprise at receiving a response, “why did you want to this time?”
He deserved to die.
“Deku,” Katsuki said.
The man frowned at the answer, “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”
Aizawa never would’ve found out if he were dead.
“Bastard is so stupid he makes me want to donate my dead brain cells to him,” the blonde shrugged, “Can’t help but try to off myself when he’s in the room.”
The man’s surprise dropped as he let out an aggravated sigh, “Bakugou,” Aizawa rubbed a crease in his brow with frustration, “I’m trying to treat this delicately.”
“So am I. Deku’s stupidity is a real issue.”
“I am in the process of trying to convince Nedzu not to put you on twenty-four-hour watch, and your blatant disregard for the seriousness of this situation is not helpful.”
Katsuki's breath caught, “What?”
“Nedzu is neither patient nor especially compassionate. His strategy in everything is to tackle it with all the available resources possible. At the moment, he is determined to make sure this doesn’t happen again at any cost, and while I understand his panic, I’m trying to make this process as easy for you as I can. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Katsuki gripped the blanket that lay on his legs. “Why would they put me under twenty-four-hour watch?”
Aizawa’s eyes seemed to strain. He looked similar to how he was after using his quirk for a long time. “You tried to kill yourself, Bakugou. At least according to Todoroki’s testimony. Do you have something different to say about the events?”
The question sounded like a challenge. Katsuki really wished it had been a challenge.
“No,” he said.
“Then for the sake of your privacy, would you please answer my questions?”
He wouldn’t have to answer questions if he was dead.
“Fine. Start over.”
“Thank you,” Aizawa breathed. He took a relieved seat in the chair Todoroki had been in. The chair didn’t look comfortable enough for the amount of intensity Aizawa was carrying. “Did you hurt yourself?” The man began again.
“Yes,” Katsuki answered.
“Have you ever hurt yourself before this?”
“Yes.”
“How often?”
“It hasn't happened for a while.”
“How long?”
“A few weeks? I think.”
“Does it normally happen sporadically?”
“No. The only reason I haven’t been doing it recently is cause I was specifically avoiding it.” Katsuki tried not to think about how he would face Kaminari about the stupid fucking, now broken, promise.
“How often do you normally do it?”
“At some point, it was happening pretty much every day.” Katsuki watched in the corner of his eye as Aizawa’s hand tightened against the sleeve on his black shirt. The man pulled the sleeve down slightly, further onto his own hand.
“Is this the-“ Aizawa took a breath. His hands shook as he released his grip. “Is this the first time you’ve tried to end your life?”
Katsuki swallowed, “Yes.”
“Have you ever had the urge to end it before today?”
Yes.
Katsuki scowled. Aizawa sighed. It was a sad sigh. Katsuki didn’t like it. It sounded wrong coming from a man who was normally so dismissive.
“Yeah,” he replied.
“Do you often have the urge to end it?”
Yes.
“How many more questions are there?” Katsuki growled. He glared at the moth that dared to land on his teacher’s arm.
“Not too many more. Just stick with me, Bakugou.” The moth flitted away as Katsuki’s eyes met with the authoritative, dark ones. But the small demon was already there above him. Katsuki knew better than to relax now.
“Do you often have the urge to end your life?” Aizawa asked.
Yes.
Bakugou tried not to jump as the creature flew by his ear, “Yes. Fuck you, yes. It happens a lot.”
“Is there anything specific that triggers those thoughts?”
When he’s a terrible person that doesn’t deserve his privileged life.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “it seems to happen pretty randomly.”
“So Midoriya doesn’t have anything to do with it as you said before?”
His death is an apology.
“No,” Katsuki said.
The man remained quiet. He continued to pull at the black sleeve. Katsuki watched as moths flitted in and out of view, trying to grab his attention. The blonde just kept his eyes on Aizawa. He hoped the man would be enough distraction to keep the moths in view rather than on top of him.
He hated it when the moths were on top of him.
Aizawa suddenly sat up, “I’ve called your parents,” Katsuki’s head dropped back against the wall, “They didn’t answer. I’ll try to contact them again later today. We’ll continue this conversation when they’re present.” The moths jumbled and panicked as Aizawa walked past them and out of the infirmary.
Despite the fact that he was fully healed, he wasn’t allowed to leave the infirmary. Recovery Girl said that he was under medical supervision until Nedzu and Aizawa came to a consensus. Todoroki, the traitorous bastard, insisted on bringing his notes from class and informing Katsuki of various homework assignments. It was probably some attempt to apologize, though not for the thing Katsuki wanted an apology for. Katsuki wanted to scream and yell at him, but he couldn’t deny that Todoroki was one of the more organized note-takers in the class.
The idiots tried to come in as a group at some point. Mina was carrying flowers. All of them carried moths on their shoulders. Kirishima was the first one who tried to speak to Katsuki. The moth crawled along the redhead’s chin as he spoke. Katsuki looked away. He also didn’t respond. Each of them said their own little greeting, and each of them quickly gave up hope of receiving a response. Mina left the flowers in a vase next to his bed.
Kaminari came to visit one more time after the group attempt. From the get-go, he told Katsuki that he didn’t need to respond. Kaminari just told him that it was going to be okay. He said that Aizawa was going to figure it all out, and then they could go out for greasy American food or ice cream, or whatever Katsuki wanted. While the boy was babbling, the only thing Katsuki could think about was how much Kaminari must hate him for breaking their promise. After the boy finally left, Katsuki’s tears fell on a bundle of moths that lay in his lap.
Kirishima was the only one in the group that consistently came to visit. Each time he stepped through the infirmary door, a new moth found a home on the boy’s shoulder or head. Katsuki couldn’t stand to watch the disgusting white creatures walk across his friend’s body. Kirishima kept talking to Katsuki anyway, even though he never responded.
Deku was the only one that got a real response out of him. The one time Deku tried to visit, Katsuki’s face got so red that Recovery Girl was worried he might have popped a blood vessel. Katsuki tried to jump the other boy and nearly succeeded before Recovery Girl stepped between them. She had banned Deku from visiting after that. Katsuki didn’t complain.
It was almost a week before Aizawa came in to see him again, and the man almost looked grimmer than when Katuski first woke up. His eye bags were darker than usual, and he held a scowl that could rival even his own. The man walked to the side of the bed and stared Katsuki down. Katsuki was content to similarly stare, and wait for the man to speak.
Aizawa began with a deep sigh, “Normally, I wouldn’t talk with you about this yet, but your parents still haven’t responded to my messages and today is the last day before I have to make a decision.”
Katsuki raised an eyebrow, “Decision about what?”
“What to do about you.” The man replied, “I don’t want to put you under constant surveillance, but considering your situation, Nedzu won’t let me get away with that unless I put you in mandated therapy.”
“Therapy?” Katsuki scoffed.
“If I’m being honest, I agree with the idea. You’ve probably needed some type of therapy for a long while now.”
“I’m not doing fucking therapy,” he growled.
“Well, it’s either that or someone listening in while you pee. Your choice, Bakugou,” Katsuki wanted to argue. He wanted to argue until the sun exploded, but Aizawa’s face showed bone-deep tiredness that threatened to draw in moths if he dared to argue.
“Fine,” Katsuki scowled.
The teacher’s shoulders sagged with released tension. He gave a small smile as if apologizing. A moth flitted between the two of them, and Katsuki resigned himself to whatever Aizawa had planned.
Getting back into class was almost worse than waiting in the infirmary. The moment he stepped through the threshold into Aizawa’s classroom, everyone’s eyes were on him. Their stares were like spotlights that froze him in his tracks and carried him away behind a wall of tragedy. He kept his eyes focused on the ground in front of him, only lifting them slightly when he came up to his desk and sat down. A herd of moths laid out on its surface, and their enormous, black pupils dug into his brain just like the people around him.
They all knew something had happened. Katsuki wasn’t sure how much, but they knew.
His limited time in the dorm common areas didn’t fare much better. Deku would always try to stand up when Katsuki walked into the room. He was only held back by the classmates who would drag the idiot back down in his seat. Not that Katsuki was thankful because everyone who wasn’t Deku seemed to shut down around him. Even Mina, in all her attempted compassion, didn’t seem to know what to do, so she would just stare like the rest of them. It was especially bad when anything about internships or hero licenses came up. Katsuki was pretty sure that he didn’t even know what hero Kirishima was working with.
Therapy with Hound Dog was even more aggravating than Katsuki had expected. It was obvious that the man didn’t know Katsuki or how he functioned. He was clearly expecting some kind of answer, even if it came in a dismissive tone. Katsuki, however, stayed silent. In response, Hound Dog would ramble about his day or babble about generic life lessons for children. Katsuki would zone out after the first five minutes of every session, but he also didn’t complain. Hound Dog, at least, didn’t stare.
Even after a week, no one seemed to loosen up around him. Everyone was tense, everyone was avoidant. Katsuki eventually started up his normal, early morning routine, if only because barely anyone else was awake at that time. Except for Iida, who Katsuki knew would be there. They had shared similar breakfast times for many months, and he couldn’t imagine Iida straying from his schedule just because Katsuki hadn’t been present for a few weeks. However, it didn’t make Katsuki any less irritable about the staring. It being only Iida and he made it less painful, though more awkward at the same time. That particular morning, Katsuki knew Iida was going to try something. The tenseness in the boy’s shoulders was different than before. He glanced more often at Katsuki as he cooked his breakfast. Katsuki knew his fate was sealed when Iida sat next to him at the table.
Iida didn’t speak immediately. Katsuki was mostly done with his food before even an indication of a conversation was given. Iida cleared his throat, probably hoping that Katsuki would be irritable enough to comment on it, but Katsuki stayed quiet. Just as Katsuki was standing to leave, Iida seemed to panic.
“Have you been recovering well from your accident?” Iida spoke. Katsuki almost dropped his plate at the sudden words. Katsuki turned to the other boy in shock. He scowled at the phrasing. ‘Accident’ made it sound like it was unavoidable. ‘Accident’ made it sound like Katsuki hadn’t meant it. ‘Accident’ made it sound like several moths weren't circling Katsuki’s head in a manner that made him dizzy.
Similarly standing up, Iida began again, “I feel it’s my duty as class president to check in on all my classmates. If you don’t wish to tell me anything then I won’t pry, but I hoped to ask if you’re alright with that.”
Anger pooled into Katsuki’s stomach for the first time since his ‘accident’. It was a powerful feeling, a relieving one. Katsuki gripped onto the anger tightly.
“How much do you know about my accident, class prez?” A glare formed with Katsuki’s words, and he cheered as Iida stuttered.
But the anger was quickly stolen away from him as Iida zoomed out of the kitchen, leaving his half-eaten plate behind. Katsuki only saw the smallest flicker of blue hair escape out the door before the moths started pouring in.
It was a few days after that when Sato asked where the rice cooker was. Katsuki giggled at the question. Sato looked slightly disturbed at the uncharacteristic laugh but still thanked Katsuki after receiving the answer. A few moths seemed to disappear when Katsuki heard the distinctive beep of the rice cooker.
Katsuki doesn’t remember at what point Kirishima started disappearing. His mind was too focused on planning his escape from therapy, or avoiding everyone else in the class. Or maybe it was the moths Katsuki was trying to avoid? He couldn’t really tell the difference anymore. The point was, he hadn’t really noticed that Kirishima was gone until Aizawa announced that he and Deku were in the hospital. Apparently, they had been on some big mission during their internships.
Apparently, Kirishima broke.
With every new word Aizawa spoke, a new moth came through the door, or the window, or the vents. Every word about Kirishima seemed to triple their numbers. Throughout his classes, the things would crawl and fly around every corner of Katsuki’s desk. They covered his papers and squealed over each of the teachers. They walked along the floor, and he would trip over their wings as he walked from room to room. They gathered in bunches and left only certain sections of the floor open for him to step. Katsuki couldn’t eat his lunch for fear that a moth might be hiding in the food. Quickly losing his appetite, he retreated from the cafeteria. The walls were beginning to have flickerings of moths as well, and Katsuki turned different corners depending on which wall had more moths. He found himself in the bathroom, staring down a mirror vignetted by moths.
Kirishima broke.
The moths flew up to his legs and rested on his calves, his knees, his thighs. Katsuki grabbed onto the sink in front of him. The moths that surrounded the mirror fell down to his hands and arms. He couldn’t feel the flits of their wings or the wisps of their legs as they grouped along his fingers and nuzzled his wrists.
Kirishima broke.
Katsuki’s fingers felt numb as he realized he could have been there. Katsuki’s heart rate picked up as he realized he could have saved him. Moths climb up Katsuk’s body as he realized that if he hadn’t failed his licensing exam, if he hadn’t failed as a hero, he could have saved Kirishima.
Kill yourself as an apology.
White, fuzzy bodies covered his vision. He closed his eyes to keep their prickly black legs away from his sight, but he could still feel them. They surrounded every inch of his body. He could feel each flap of their wings and each crawl of their legs. He could feel them nudging their way into his shirt and clothes. He pressed himself into the corner to get them away from his back, but he could still feel them there. They whispered so many things to him.
Go take a swan dive off the roof.
So many different scenarios.
Get Mom to beat you to death.
All the different ways he could hurt.
Break yourself like Kirishima did.
They started to crawl in his ears. He tried to cover them, but the moths seemed to slip through his fingers and push themselves in. They nudged at his lips and forced his mouth open. They bombarded his throat and eyes and ears. Their fuzzy bodies had grown slick with his saliva and he gagged on their long wings. Dozens and dozens of moths crawled into him, yet he was still surrounded.
Just die already.
That’s when he felt the scratching. It was light at first. Almost nothing compared to the scurried choking of the bugs in his mouth. It started in one spot. A barely-there itch you had during class. Then the spot grew and multiplied till he had light scratching on every arm, leg, and finger. Each spot spread and the itch grew into a prick and a pull and a tear. They were in his clothes and on his arms and on his legs and his stomach, and Katsuki realized they were digging. He could feel millions of holes being buried in his body and the fuzzy, itchy, scratchy moths were pushing their way inside him and they were whispering, screeching, screaming. They demanded and demanded and demanded.
Bakugou exploded.
The world seemed to shift in the blink of an eye. Katsuki’s once standing position was now clearly face down on the floor. His hand, which had been dry before, was now laying in a thick, warm liquid. Blood, it was blood. He was lying in his own blood. It was kind of funny. The screaming in his head was gone. In fact, his head seemed fuzzier than anything. The blood was warm, and his head was fuzzy. It seemed like a great time for his vision to go out.
The next time Katsuki opened his eyes, he couldn’t see very clearly. There was a buzz coming from outside of him. Voices, he was hearing voices, but their words were garbled. Katsuki opened his mouth to speak. He tasted iron. He closed his mouth because he didn’t like the taste of iron. The voices then disappeared, and so did his vision.
Then there was light, and voices. The voices were fuzzy, instead of garbled. There was a pain in Katsuki’s chest. Was that where Kirishima was? No, that was the hospital. The pain in his chest made blood. Blood that was warm. Blood that tasted like iron.
When Katsuki woke up again, he just felt tired. The weight of four elephants had just been pulled from his shoulders, and he breathed in a big, deep breath. Recovery Girl was standing next to some other doctor? That’s what Katsuki assumed at least. He wondered for a moment what doctors talked about. He was tired.
The beeping is what fully woke him up. His eyes opened to white hospital walls and a deeper pain in his chest than he could describe. The beeping of whatever machine lingered, however, and Katsuki began to feel the needles and tubes sticking out of him. He shook some of the tiredness from his head, willing it to stay awake until he remembered what happened.
And watching Katsuki come to full wakefulness was Aizawa. Capture scarf around his neck, and a com-link in his hand.