"It wasn't my fault, shitnerd-"

"When is it ever!"

Izuku's anguished cry rumbles through the silence- thudding rhythmically against his temples like the brontide of a storm, and it's the worst headache he's ever had in his entire goddamn life. Blinking hurts, thinking hurts, everything just hurts, and he's tired of it.

He aims to spit in the face of exhaustion by glaring harshly at the ceiling and braving the blinding pain that follows when the light hits his eyes, yet instead he closes them. Eyelids heavy and at rest, he relishes in that momentary, though futile, attempt to quell the pain.

His fingers grip restlessly at the fabric of the couch beneath him, digits twitching with the ghost-sensation of sparks against his palms. Each slight jerk of his hand forces him to trace over the stitched patterns, calluses catching softly against the cotton threads, and the friction offers him a point of a focus; the slightest bit of calm shining through the haze of a storm.

But it's short lived.

Another aching throb ricochets behind his eyelids, bursting pain along a path trailing the side of his head before it ultimately splinters through his skull. There's a few moments between each strike where the pulsating mellows, yet still Katsuki finds no peace as images of a green, sickening boy haunt him every time he so much as dares to close his eyes- each is blink heavy and agonizing, just like Deku.

'Deku.' Even simply thinking that name forces his stomach to twist into an airtight knot; so strictly coiled that it feels as if it had been tied by someone of herculean descent.

Sanguine eyes open once more, and again pain hammers at his temples; Christ, he's so fucking tired.

"When is it ever!"

It's clockwork. Izuku's accusation sounds, and in turn there's a skull-splitting pound, always on cue- forming the beat of a drum; each bang isolated aside from the distant ticking of a clock.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It only makes it worse. Only makes the throb behind his eyes more acidic. Dammit.

The guilt those words produce crackle through his veins like lightning, leaving Katsuki's chest feeling as if he's been struck with a red-hot piece of iron; a searing pain exploding through his ribcage like boiling tar. He's utterly lost, consumed in thought, but it's the kind that resembles white noise, or the static of a television left on a void channel. It's meaningless, gargling garbage; a worthless waste of mental capacity, but he just can't fucking muster anything else- not a feeling, not a word. No, nothing of substance, just those filthy, painful words in a voice he can't stand: "When is it ever!"

'That bastard. I'll kill him- obliterate him like the spec he is.'

"Son?"

For the first time in god knows how long, he looks up from the floor- red eyes shifting towards his father's seated figure. 'Great.' He throws a glance upward and almost winces at the sudden increase in lighting, but chokes it down in favor of peering expressionlessly at the geezer. His head still hangs low, and he really can't find the strength to lift it, though he cranes slightly to the right at the distinct creaking of the front door. His mother, no doubt; she was probably coming in from her 'cool down' session, and of course it had to be right when his dad was gonna try to act like some kinda goddamn shrink. He can practically already hear the bullshit therapy talk.

"Why did you do that to Midoriya, Katsuki?" "Are you feeling mad?" "Why are you feeling mad?" "Do you think what you did is okay? Was that the right way to act?"

"Oi, look at your dad! He's the one you needa be starin' at!" Mitsuki barks, though she strangely heads for the stairs rather than sauntering into the living room and bitching like she usually does. 'Whatever. Good fucking riddance.'

Before he can grumble a response, his father coughs- clearing his throat as he intertwines his fingers, calmly settling them onto his lap. When Katsuki's attention fully shifts over, Masaru leans forward, and the blond can't help but inwardly grimace. He could fully tune out the hag's annoying-ass screeching, but his father's neutral, gentle jargon? Fuck , that shit put him to sleep.

Masaru's mouth opens, and Katsuki runs a calloused hand through his hair, biting back a long, drawn out groan. Well, here comes the 'You need to control your temper and meditate like a pussy!' speech. Fuckin' fantastic.

"Your behavior today has been...God, Katsuki, have you gone mad? I'm not disappointed, son, no. That doesn't even begin to cover it- I'm...I'm frankly just ashamed," There's a pause, a deep, forlorn sigh falling from Masaru's lips as he goes to rub his eyes. "I mean, honestly, how can you talk so highly of your dreams to become a hero, and the turn around and hurt Midoriya the way you did? I don't understand. I can't understand." Katsuki's stomach drops, and Masaru's eyes lock with his own. For the first time in his life, his father's signature gentle expression doesn't greet him. Rather, his face holds something Katsuki's all too familiar with- disgust.

"You're supposed to be better than this."

Oh.

Oh... he hadn't been expecting that.

Suddenly, sleeping sounds impossible- his every nerve is alight with shame; kindling a flame of pitiful self-loathing that burns brightly in his gut. It gurgles like a molten lava, sizzling in the back of his throat and he barely resists the urge to claw it out.

He's really done it this time. Really screwed shit up; but he should be used to it by now. The sludge villain. The Heroes vs Villains assignment. The USJ incident. The Sports Festival. All of it- every single situation he'd fucked something up, but Izuku? That stupid, shitty Deku was always one step ahead. Always one step closer to their shared dream-

'Goddamn it. '

For a moment, his breathing quickens- the once leisurely rise and fall of his chest accelerating rapidly, and it feels as if he can't breath and, shit, he needs more air- yet suddenly the memory of All Might's hand on his shoulder from the first day of class, that soft yet grounding weight, washes over him and the hyperventilating stops before it can fully start.

He lingers on the thought- on the sensation of that deity-like presence, and a part of him feels grateful; the other is teeming with untapped rage as his subconscious supplies that Izuku is often compared to him. To his greatness.

Deku, aka the one person who makes him feel like absolute shit by just being nearby, is said to mirror him - All Might - his hero.

Bull-fucking-shit.

He bites down harshly on his lip, ignoring the coppery taste that follows, and red eyes collide against his father's brown ones once more.

It's funny, kind of, that usually only Deku can make him feel this way- this awful and angry. But now it's the crushing pressure of his father's words instead.

"You owe Midoriya an apology," The clock's ticking emphasizes every syllable that falls from Masaru's lips, and as he pauses the bell chimes to signal that it's now whatever o'clock. Upstairs a door slams and the pipes suddenly surge with water; the hag's probably taking a shower.

"Do you understand me, Katsuki?"

He contemplates the idea; imagines apologizing to Deku. Now that was a new line of thought- truly, an idea he's never really considered. Sure, his friends in middle school had attempted to make him feel a twinge of guilt for the "take a swan-dive off the roof" comment, but even then his raging pride had revolted- rioted at the thought alone. The moment his chest had so much as dared to tighten when picturing Izuku jump from their school, his ego had crushed it. What did those stupid fucks know, huh? And who the fuck did they think they were, trying to make him feel bad for being honest?

He'd said it because it was true- without a quirk, Izuku's life would never have been meaningful; not the way Deku longed for. So hoping to be reborn better and stronger in the next life was clearly that little twerp's only shot at happiness. What the fuck would be the point of living if your life was aimless? How was suggesting death any worse than telling Deku to suck it up and go do something stupid and unfulfilling for the rest of his life?

Quirkless. Izuku was utterly devoid of any bodily mutation, and that fact alone was an immovable obstacle that Katsuki, as well as the rest of the world, had seen as the end of Izuku's dreams. Yet that nerd- that idiot- never acknowledged that blockade; spewing constant bullshit about how maybe if he studied hard he could still get into UA. Maybe if he memorized every bit of information about every pro-hero that he'd miraculously blow the entrance exam out of the water.

"You can be a police officer," their elementary teachers had said, "they also fight crime!"

It was a shallow attempt to be kind- to tiptoe around the fact that Izuku's dreams were good and dead. And just as those shits had feigned earnesty about Deku's chances of ever even tasting a sliver of success, that nerd had always plastered on a fake, polite smile and said "We'll see."

But Katsuki knew better. He'd known since childhood that Izuku Midoriya would bite down on failure, chew it up, and spit it out. That "we'll see" meant "never," and every "maybe if I try hard enough" was truly a "I will bend faith; I will succeed." Deep down he'd always feared that Izuku was right. That useless, quirkless Deku would brush shoulders with him as an equal one day- or worse, surpass him.

At one point in his life, he didn't understand- couldn't fathom why that shitnerd insisted on reaching out towards the idol that All Might was. Rather than accept that he was weak and destined for mediocrity, he continued to strive for a dream that a majority of people with quirks could never achieve. Being quirkless and not becoming a hero was to Midoriya what not winning was to himself- unacceptable. Izuku would never stop chasing their dream- no matter how bruised, how broken, how hopeless the situation was; those weak, quirkless hands would forever reach for that dream- that goal- even if it killed him. So, was it a stretch to say that dying would be better for Deku than living a meaningless life as a police officer?

Izuku Midoriya would die in the pursuit of his goals- and he would also die if he didn't reach them. Deku was Icarus; All Might: The sun, and Katsuki hated the idea of those wax wings melting as those quirkless hands reached for that blinding light.

That green idiot would fall, only to then be swallowed by the endless ocean that is failure. How was that mercy? How was letting him live such delusions of grandeur any kinder than the harsh truth?

Not everyone can be a hero.

A reverie of heat in his palms sparks to life at the idea of using his quirk; of igniting his hands in a blinding show of power and energy, and then it vanishes. His hands go frigid, a barren wasteland of vast emptiness as he contemplates a life without it . Without a quirk, a dream- a purpose, and he cringes at the thought.

That, he thinks, would definitely be worse than fucking dying.

He'd been right not to feel guilty back then. Surely living no life was better than Deku simply existing without a cause.

Or, at least, that's what he'd thought at the time. Obviously none of that mattered now- Deku'd been a sneaky little shit right from the start and lied- God, he can almost relive the shock of seeing that shitnerd throw the ball during Aizawa's bullshit quirk assessment; can almost feel the way the world had dropped out from underneath him back then. 'Quirkless my ass. '

"I asked you a question, son. Do you or do you not understand?"

Understand fucking what? That he 'owes' Deku an apology? Worthless, good-for-nothing Deku who had lied to him and tarnished his goal of being the only kid from their middle school to enter UA?

He can practically taste the bitter laughter bubbling up in his throat- apologize?

No. Hell no. Deku didn't deserve shit from Katsuki except for a foot up his ass.

Then again he should give himself one too for even having contemplated feeling bad- feeling remorse for the boy who constantly shits on his path. Deku could fuck off and die for all he cared. All that shithead ever did was spew garbage from his pothole about being a hero- stupid, meaningless dribble about things he knew nothing about.

And, then it dawned on him. That's it. It's all just words.

Deku's bullshit? Words.

The old man's bullshit? More words.

And, within a moment, Katsuki realizes that what he really needs is for everyone to shut the hell up.

"I don't care if you get it..." The first few words come out as more of a croak, voice hoarse and ragged, yet suddenly that same oozing lava from before erupts- leaving ire-laced magma to explode from his mouth. The violent sneer that follows splinters across his features just as lightning traces veins along the heavens, and Masaru's expression falters. "I don't freaking need you to get it! Deku is in my way, and that bastard's always trying to one-up me!"

The pure amount of feelings swarming through his aching head and boiling blood propel him up and off the couch, fists clenched angrily at the blond's sides. His father's eyes widen, and Katsuki's just so goddamn tired of everyone constantly running their fucking mouths. Why can't he just blow it all away? Why don't they all just fuck off and die, die, die-

The dull sting of teeth digging into his lip resurges, the points of his canines further tearing at the soft flesh in anger. He's so sick of it- of Deku turning everything around in his life. Hell, that weasel even turned his own parents against him.

"You're ashamed of me, huh? Well, choke on the shame, for all I care- if you're just gonna side with Deku like everyone else, then get in the fucking line to kiss his ass already! I don't give a shit if you're not proud of me- you never are anyway-"

"Katsuki, that's-" Masaru's hands reach out to him, but he firmly stomps his foot on the ground for emphasis as the next words tear from his throat in a feral scream.

"But I'm going to be the number one hero no matter what any of you assholes say!"

He's not sure at what point his eyes began to prick with tears, or when the couch had started smoking, or when the hell he'd even gotten up and stormed out the door, but the next thing he knows it slams shut behind him with a visible quake of the frame.

As the tremors dispersed from the wood, so did the deep seated weight in Katsuki's gut. Yet, even as the guilt faded away, he was left with traces of anger in his blood and chest- coils of low heat simmering under his skin beneath the waning moon's light.

A soft breeze lulls through his hair, and his mind is suddenly quiet; yet not at peace. His thoughts have simply stalled- gone stale in the wake of overwhelming emotions, but it's better. Emptiness is welcomed in the place of explosive guilt, and Katsuki breathes a grateful sigh. As if on auto-pilot, he walks a slow, absent minded pace, strolling nowhere in particular.

His hands unclench, hanging lazily at his sides and a hiss falls from his lips when the adrenaline-rush subsides, allowing pain to register once more. Throwing a glance downward he notes the bloody crescent moons where dull nails had dug into his palms, and he wonders: If Izuku saw him now, would he still be the 'amazing' Kacchan? Would Deku still trail after him like a lost puppy?

He should hope the answer is no. After all, he's always wanted solitude- wanted Izuku to piss off, and stop patronizing him with empty praises. And yet, his heart lurches at the thought; barreling wildly against his ribcage in dismay. A life without Deku was unimaginable. Unreal. They've never been apart- no matter how badly Katsuki wanted them to be, and that green haired shitnerd was a constant factor in his life. Memories of his childhood are plagued with Deku. Middle school they'd sat a few rows apart, and the feeling of viridescent eyes upon his back had always been a commonplace sensation. The entrance exam had been no different- they'd been seated together for the written portion, as well as the assembly.

Even now, they were attached somehow; by some cruel twist of faith. Izuku was at UA, in class 1-A, and seated directly behind him, and Katsuki can't help but be bitter about it.

Enraptured in swirling thoughts of Deku, he continues to wander, and without notice he follows the splatters of red leading away from the front steps of the house. The air is cool, the sun's presence all but faded from the sky line, and a crisp breeze nips at his heated skin. It eases the hot expanse of his palms, and there's an incessant sting littering his left cheek.

Probably just the scratches from Izuku's nails- much like the ones on his back; though, each time the fabric of the shirt skids over them it's honestly not unpleasant. In fact, for mere fractions of passing seconds it almost feels strangely enjoyable; it soothes him- as had his skinned knuckles at school, though those had long since scabbed over. No, now Katsuki instead finds solace in the fading hum of telephone wires, and skidding of gravel beneath his feet-

..."Did I seriously forget to put on fucking shoes?"

As callused fingers come to loosely twine themselves through thick blonde locks, Katsuki groans- that same hand dragging aggravatedly across his face before falling at his side once more.

What the hell was up with him? He'd literally stormed past his loafers on the way out and had still managed to miraculously forget to put them on like some kind of dipshit.

Had it been Kaminari who'd done some dumb shit like this he wouldn't of been surprised- hell, he could even see shitty-hair and raccoon eyes being this aloof, but himself? That was a new low; a brand new record for limboing under his own standards- and because of what? Deku?

That shitnerd didn't warrant so much as a glance, let alone a fuckin' meltdown that left him so distracted he'd walked past his own goddamn shoes.

'Whatever.' The thought comes out bitter and cold, and that makes him even more resentful; it didn't matter now. Izuku had gotten under his skin like the filthy parasite he was because Katsuki had let him. He'd allowed that insufferable prick to constantly consume his thoughts- constantly draw his attention, and here he was, paying the price for it. But who the fuck was there to blame? It was his own fault for being so...so weak . So disgustingly weak and goadable.

It doesn't matter. Katsuki's jaw clenches, teeth grinding down harshly together. He's not gonna let it matter.

After all, he wasn't going back for those dumbass loafers, but he really had to wonder: were the torturous, never-ending thoughts of Deku frying his brain cells, or what?

"Next I'm gonna forget how to talk-"

The glowering presence of a shadow casting down from above him shifts Katsuki's dazed focus from the crimson splotched dirt beneath his feet up to the small underpass of the main entrance of the park. He'd been so preoccupied thinking about his stupid shoes he hadn't even noticed that he'd followed the dwindling trail of blood splatters all the way here; and the sudden absence of streetlamps gives birth to an engulfing darkness.

A swift movement catches his eye, and through the shroud of obsidian night he swears he sees someone heading towards that old rusted chain-link fence. The one that houses the creek where Katsuki had gotten his first and most bitter taste of Izuku's pity.

He blinks twice in rapid succession, peering heavily at the figure with a narrowed glare. His immediate thought is to wonder what kinda weirdo would be in the park at this hour, but said pondering is followed by a sudden deep sense of self because he is. He's a weirdo who's wandering in a park at who-fucking-knows-o'clock...hell, he doesn't even know why he's there in the first place-

There's an abrupt electric glow near the aforementioned gate, illuminating the person standing by it as streaks of fluorescent energy erupt wildly around their body. The strands of whatever that shit is bouncing haphazardly around the person obscures the darkness, giving Katsuki moments of clear vision, and in the vague incandescent light storm he catches hints of green hair and caramel skin.

Without so much as a thought, Katsuki goes to say something- he's not even sure why, yet before he can do so, the person hops over the fence in a way that is anything but elegant. No, rather it seems as if they're struggling to coordinate their thoughts to their actions, and thus they fumble; hitting the ground on the other side with a less than graceful manner, legs stiffly pounding into the soft earth with an audible thud. Not that they seem to care- the second the weirdo's feet hit the ground they're sprinting off into the greenery.

"Deku."

The word leaves his lips with a strangled sound, and despite every nerve erupting into a blazing inferno that howls incessantly at him to stop, Katsuki's legs don't comply. Rather they burst into motion, racing after the fire-fly fuckface who he hopes to God isn't Izuku; anyone but Izuku.

There's no graceful jump, or strategic set of explosions to vault him over when he reaches the border separating the park from the forest, instead he launches himself onto the fence with a breakneck speed- fingers catching on the barbed wire coiled around the metal links. If it is Deku, he doesn't want to alert him of his position; climbing's his best bet, regardless of the merciless way the hooks rip into his skin.

The pinpricks of blood begin to run into liberated streams as every step up tears further into the expanses of his hands and feet. Katsuki almost doesn't notice, too caught up in concentrating on how the fuck he's gonna clear the top without snagging his junk on goddamn shitty stupid fucking barbed wire.

'Fuck it, I'll just handstand on top of the bar and cut the shit outta my arms when I hop over.'

He doesn't bother looking when he goes to grip the top bar, sticking both hands into the frayed mess of wire on top- it's fine. His jaw clenches as he bites his tongue, a harsh exhale following when he manages to finally push through the coils, bloody, ripped palms making blissful contact with the solid metal. His feet press strongly against the fence, thighs braced in preparation when Katsuki pushes off- swinging his legs upwards as his arms grow taut; the muscle straining under his skin to not only heave him upward, but also hold him in place. He's about to let out a sigh of relief when his shirt drops to flap against his face, and he can't help but think karma is a salty bitch.

There's a slight hiss that escapes his lips, hands shifting on the pole from the momentum- forcing them to grate against the jagged metal in an agonizingly slow manner. The coppery smell of blood mixes heavily with that of rust, and he swears to God if he gets some weird ass disease from this shit he's suing whatever stupid douche owns this park.

'Goddamn it, here comes the hard part.'

He lowers his arms, buckling them slightly- core shaking and twitching from the effort to keep his legs vertically in the air.

'If I don't jump soon I'm screwed.'

"Can't go too low or I'll cut my face on the wire, which would be fine," Katsuki tries to blow the shirt away from his face, yet to no avail it still drapes over his view. "If I could fucking see."

He attempts to lower himself even more, but a sudden gust of wind billows his shirt, puffing it out and causing it to snag onto the barbs; and that moment alone desiccates the last wisps of patience Katsuki possesses. With a harsh grunt he practically throws himself over, seething at the sound of fabric ripping before he lands in a squat.

The impact directly lathers his plethora of abrasions in dirt, and fuck, his feet hurt. Yet the pain is quickly forgotten as anger fuels him to turn and glare darkly at the fence- noting the chunk of his shirt that still clings to it teasingly. As he watches it dance along a mirthful breeze, Katsuki barely subdues the urge to blow the whole thing to hell- the only thing keeping him at bay is the thought of Deku.

...Well, of him hearing the explosion; that is to say if that weirdo even is Deku.

"Where did that shitnerd run off to?" Katsuki mutters, swatting with budding irritation at the thick shrubbery. It's beginning to obstruct his view, the unmaintained vegetation having grown exponentially to overtake most of the forest, and it's annoying as shit.

Not only were there oversized weeds everywhere, but the plethora of trees kept most of the moonlight at bay, casting everything beneath them into darkness; only the slight sway of the wind would momentarily shift the leaves to reveal speckles of starshine, yet it was gone in an instant.

There's a splash, followed by the quiet gushing of a stream, yet he sees no water. It was more than likely that old creek, and by the sounds of rippling waves it seemed to be up ahead, but no matter how hard he tried to peer into the dark he couldn't make out the shape of a single goddamn thing. It was all just trees, bushes, and grass- small branches and thorns that would occasionally further irritate the cuts littering his skin, and he'd had enough of it.

He couldn't help but fume- what was he even doing out here? This entire ordeal was pointless, an absolute waste of his time. There's nothing to gain from the situation; he doesn't even know what he'd do if he found Deku to begin with. Yell? Argue? Tell him to fuck right on out of his life? None of that sparked any desire in him- it was all mundane, and none of it had ever worked in the past. No, the only thing Katsuki wanted was to challenge him to a proper fight. If he could fight Izuku with both of them on equal starting lines and win, he'd be truly sated.

To feel that glory- that triumph over Deku while he's using his all? His 'all' being the quirk he'd hidden from Katsuki for all those years?

Now that would be satisfying, unlike his cheap win at the sports festival.

With one final shove of his bloody forearm Katsuki moves the last branch blocking his path, and a sudden clearing opens up, revealing the meandering river that now sits before him; yet he can't move towards it. It's not the sudden lack of vegetation that stalls his thoughts, nor the increased visibility due to the unbarred light of the moon; it's not even the sight of the stream he'd fallen in as a child, rather it's what sits along the edge of the bank that leaves him paralyzed.

The light shines off Deku's hair in an ethereal way, encasing him in a ghostly glow as he leisurely dips his feet into the water. All is silent aside from the occasional soft breath or two, only accompanied by the light rustle of the leaves behind Katsuki. Izuku's clad in nothing but his boxers as his clothes are perched lazily against a nearby tree, and even though he seems to be caught up in thought, he's not muttering. Rather, he's slowly rolling his head back and forth, rubbing his neck occasionally as if to release the tension within his body. Yet, the further he lowers himself into the water, the more and more stiff he looks-

"...so cold.." Katsuki hears the other mutter, the sound coalescing with the rippling water as Deku fully sinks himself into the pacified stream.

He's not sure how long he's been standing there- or if he even is standing there. He can't feel his damn body; rather it's like he's trapped in an invisible prison, muscles so tense with nerves that Katsuki can't think about breathing, let alone do so. The air's hitched in his lungs, snagged on a fear whose origin eludes him- why would he give a rat's ass if Deku noticed him?

Sure, they just had a fight, but it's not as if they haven't had a strained relationship since middle school. It doesn't make any sense- then again, he never makes any damn sense around that damn nerd.

There's something about that green hair and those iridescent eyes that gets under Katsuki's skin like a plague; irritating him from the inside out 'till he's forgetting his shoes and acting like a total coward.

And while he's not certain of what that something is, he sure is fucking tired of it.

A sudden splash rips him from his reverie, and Katsuki notices Izuku's gone- or at least until Deku breaks through the surface of the water, though the moon's haunting glow cascading across the stream makes it resemble a faulty mirror. It's like the kind at those shitty circus festivals that are concave and bent to make you look dumb as shit in 'em-

...but Deku doesn't look dumb. No, as he's breaching the top with a slight gasp and a shiver, all his features encased in darkness aside from the random highlights of starlight raining down on him, he looks ethereal. Gorgeous, even, and it's making Katsuki's head spin to the point where it feels like he's stuck on a carousel. Every time it makes its rounds, he feels more and more like he's gonna hurl, and it's all because he just can't take his fucking eyes off Deku. His hair is wet, splayed in so many stupid directions that Katsuki can't even count them all, and his lips are parted and covered in dew-like drops; but that's not the worst of it, no. Even his plump cheeks that he knows house those pesky little freckles aren't what's making his stomach convulse, rather it's the other's eyes.

Bright, sickeningly green, and beautiful- refracting the heavens' glow like some kind of holy, shitilly placed gemstones. For some reason, he can't help but want to see them up close-

Yet, right as the bile, and regret, and self-loathing start to claw up his throat, he staggers the slightest bit backwards. It's an after-effect of tossing his head back slightly to avoid purging the contents of his stomach, and as his feet ground him he steps on a twig. It splinters with a sound akin to a crack of lightning; louder than any explosion, and more deafening than even his mother's yells. He'd chalk it up to his nerves amplifying everything, but as Izuku's head turns in his direction he's no longer frozen.

Rather than being a deer caught in headlights, he's a bull in a china shop- aggressively ripping back the way he came, regardless off the pain thrumming through his feet.

This time, there is no stealth. As Katsuki meets the fence that so lovingly tore up his hands and feet earlier, he doesn't climb it; this time he hurls himself over it with two bursts from his palms, clearing it with ease. But he can't even stop to appreciate how good it felt to finally release some of the tension he'd been feeling, rather his brain is on auto-pilot and his legs simply won't stop moving. They pound the Earth with at an unrelenting pace, sending him marching out of the park and passing through the shadow drenched neighborhoods.

But he doesn't head home- doesn't follow the route he knows like the back of his hand. He knows that when he gets there he'll be greeted with nothing but shit flying out of his mother's mouth, and Katsuki simply isn't in the mood to deal with it. He'd head to one of his dumbass friends' dorms back at the school, but it's not their jobs to deal with his shit.

Besides, Dunce Face would simply annoy him to death, Raccoon-eyes would want to talk about it all night, Shitty Hair might whine and tell him to apologize 'cause fighting your classmates ain't 'manly,' or 'right,' and Tape Dispenser-

...Actually, that walking Office Max might give him legitimate peace and quiet. He's always blunt, but unlike Kaminari there's logic behind his words, so even when he does speak he's not half as irritating. In fact, Katsuki doesn't wanna deck him into next week every class the way he does that blond idiot.

Plus, considering it's the weekend, he should still be up playing some shitty video games or whatever that smiley motherfucker does for fun.

'This could work.'

It would give him the space and alone time he needs without having Aizawa chew him out later for wandering around at night.

What's the worst that could happen?

"So, lemme just hear it one more time: you watched him bathe in a pond-"

"A stream, dipshit! Are your ears filled with wax?" Katsuki barks out, glaring harshly in the other's direction as he watches him roll his eyes and shrug.

"Oh, pardon me, a stream," Hanta corrects, moving towards the closet to pull out what looks to be a sleeping bag before tossing it over lazily. "then you got flustered, and ran all the way over here to crash in my room for the night? Seriously, Bakugou? That sounds pretty g-a-y."

Nevermind. He wasn't better than Kaminari.

He was way fucking worse.