Chapter Text
It takes a couple of days for the high of being taken seriously to wear off. In between forced conversations and awkward meals with his parents, the back of his mind keeps reminding him to be alert since Aizawa could call with news any second. His brain keeps reprimanding for being lazy, for shoving off the responsibility to someone else. After all, that is just another way of giving up on Deku, isn’t it? He hates that thought but he knows by now that patience is the only way he’ll ever get what he wants.
He tries to focus on sorting out his life for other things in the meantime. The search for an appropriate psychiatrist is underway. When he told his parents he was finally ready to take things seriously, they immediately foisted three different specialists at him. His father never stopped contacting the doctor that recommended grief counseling for him and took his advice on getting references. Katsuki doesn’t care either way. The appointment is set for about a few days later and while he’s not looking forward to being confirmed as crazy, the idea of getting a handle on his feelings is a plus.
By day four post-confession to Aizawa, Katsuki is back to his old ways, barely sleeping and snapping irritatedly when his parents try to get him to do anything.
“It’s not like I’m fucking doing anything, school is out!”
“You don’t need to be doing anything to eat Katsuki!” His mother yells back, shoveling more rice onto his plate. He stares at the food for a few seconds in close to apoplectic rage, grinding his teeth at her audacity.
“I’m not even burning any energy! I’ll get fat and lose all my muscle mass, stop trying to kill me hag!”
“Shut up! If you want to keep your muscles, do some damn exercise.” Mitsuki is not backing down at all. Her husband sits at the head of the table, drinking coffee and reading the news on his tablet like this is any other morning.
“Well I’d probably be doing some more fucking exercise if I wasn’t fucking grounded, wouldn’t I?!” Spittle flies from his mouth. His appetite shrinks even further than before. He stands from the table, ignoring the fluffy rice and half-eaten fish still left on his plate. Despite his mother’s hollering, he rushes upstairs and tosses himself onto his bed and underneath the covers.
Fuck her for making him feel like shit when he’s just trying to manage himself in the only way he knows. It’s not like he’s starving. He’ll eat when he’s hungry. She just wants to watch him eat like some fucking weirdo, and he’s not about that. While he grumbles to himself, his phone rings, and he stretches a hand out of his blankets to pry it off the side table with haste.
To his disappointment, it’s not Aizawa (although he didn’t really think it would be). It’s Kirishima though, so he opens the messaging app to read the text.
Shitty Hair:
>>> brooo, a bunch of us are going to that new shopping complex to shop for stuff for camp at noon
>>> wanna come???
Katsuki scrunches his nose at the offer. He could ignore the message entirely and spend the day lying in bed and scrolling through social media, maybe watch a show on TV, fight with his parents again… or he could try to socialize. The thought of socializing makes him feel like shit, but he’s feeling bored and restless so maybe a trip to the mall would clear his head.
Then, he remembers he’s grounded and groans.
<<< Can’t. Still fucking grounded.
>>> !!! Can’t ur parents make a tiny exception? u could have so much fun
<<< I think the whole point of grounding is to NOT have fun, idiot
>>> huh
>>> true. OK how about you tell them you REALLY have to buy like bug spray for camp! I mean uve got to have stuff u need, right?
Well, he does need to get some new cords for his PlayStation. The current ones are fraying thanks to one too many explosive rants. And he could use some more shampoo. With that, he resolves to go ask his parents. While he doubts they’ll give in, it’ll be good to ask and then sneak out later if he’s feeling the need to disappear.
<<< fucking fine, i’ll ask ‘em. Don’t get your hopes up
>>> BROOO!!!
He slowly crawls out of his blankets, steeling himself for the battle that is no doubt about to occur. He slips his way down the stairs, surprised to find his full plate is still waiting for him. His father is at the sink, washing up the dishes while his mother is rooting around the cupboards for her special work coffee.
“Dad. I need to go get some shit for my summer camp.”
Masaru throws him a look over his shoulder, expression gentle. “Why don’t you write me a list and I’ll grab them for you after work.”
Katsuki’s hands are in his pockets and he scuffs the ground with his toe as he speaks. “I want to get them myself. There’s a new shopping complex and my classmates are all going. They invited me and I want to go.”
“Katsuki…” Masaru dries his hand with the washcloth and turns to face him properly. “Son, you do realize you’re grounded right?”
“It’s just a couple hours. I just thought-”
“Just thought you could get out of your grounding? Who do you think we are?” Mitsuki interrupts from behind. He tries to ignore her and focus on his father, who he knows he can break if he tries enough.
“This is the first time I’m being willingly invited somewhere and you want to keep me locked up in here? I think it would be good for me to get out of the house a little, maybe make friends.” He injects a pleading tone into his voice, widening his eyes slightly to get his father’s attention.
“Well, maybe proper friendships can help stabilize-”
Mitsuki interjects with an affronted screech. “What?! I can’t believe you’re even considering this, Masaru. Katsuki, the answer is no. Maybe you should've thought about fucking friendships before assaulting people on live television!”
“Really?! You’re gonna use one of my fucking lowest moments against me?! It was an accident!”
“You carried yourself there thanks to your fucked up obsession with Izuku-kun. You lied to us about your intentions, asking us all those questions when you knew it would rile you up. Now, you even fucking waste the food that I spend my damn morning making like some sort of spoiled brat! You’ve done nothing to deserve a lesser punishment, yet here you are demanding one!”
Katsuki turns to face her, fists clenched and a vein bulging at his temple. Fuck when she said it like that, he could see her point. But fuck this. He’s a kid, not a house pet.
“Why wouldn’t I lie when all you’ve done is lie and hide shit from me?! We all know that you just don’t fucking trust me! Every time I took one step out of line, it was straight-up house arrest. How the hell am I supposed to fucking move on and get better if all I’m ever surrounded by are people I can’t even trust?! Did you ever think that I wouldn’t be so fucked up if you let me have a life?!”
His face feels flushed, his heart racing in his chest, so he grabs the half-eaten plate of rice and fish and dumps it in the trash.
“You fucking BRAT!”
He ignores her screaming and stomps halfway up the stairs before whirling around to face his livid parents. Since he’s already burning his bridges, he might as well go all the way.
“Hag, old man, ” he cuts through her yelling with a sharp voice. “You’re ruining my life! You’re ashamed of me so you hide me in here and hope that those parts of me you hate will crumble up and die. You can’t fucking fix me, regardless of how many therapists and counselors you shove up my ass. Better get used to accepting that this is the shitty son you have!”
His slammed room door reverberates through the entire house. He doesn’t see the way Mitsuki’s eyes flood with tears, or how broken Masaru looks. He doesn’t see how they hold each other, completely stunned.
All he sees is Kirishima’s disappointed text when he gives him the bad news.
*
*
*
His words create a divide between them, all-consuming and uncomfortable. They don’t call him down for lunch or dinner so he stays in his room as he wishes. He spends the time reading or lifting little dumbbells to keep his energy up or waiting for information from Aizawa. He is full of irritation that refuses to subside. After a rigorous series of bodyweight exercises and a hot bath with lemon sugar bath salts, he lies in bed ignoring the bitter stone in his chest. When hunger strikes, he sneaks down the stairs, grabbing the entire box of cereal and a bottle of milk. Thankfully he doesn’t run into them at all and is back in his room quickly.
For the next two days, he barely sees his parents, and frankly, he prefers that over pretending to be happy with their shit. They leave food for him but he ignores it and eats random shit or makes his own. Either way, a new source of anxiety presents itself. His appointment is the following day and he is nervous as fuck. Regardless of what the therapist says, this is a formal inquiry into his mental health. UA will be receiving a report confirming his ability to perform as a hero or destroying his dreams. He has to make a good impression, and fuck does he suck at that.
That’s why he is completely unprepared when Todoroki calls him. He is just in the middle of playing a video game with his fucked up cords when his phone rings. At first, he is inclined to ignore it and focus on passing this level, but his eyes catch on the flashing name and his eyebrows scrunch in confusion. Quickly he pauses the game and grabs his phone. Todoroki wasn’t the type to just call out of the blue. His stomach swoops uncomfortably when he picks up.
“Halfie? You okay?”
Todoroki’s tone over the phone is crisp and biting. “How could you?”
Katsuki’s eyebrows raise as Todoroki continues to spit out vitriol.
“Who do you think you are, to go around talking about my situation like it’s your business to share.”
A sinking feeling of dread spreads over his shoulders, like a woven blanket. Could he mean… “Hold on, what happened? What do you think I did?”
“Why is Aizawa suddenly asking me questions about my home life?”
Katsuki winces. “I spoke to him about Deku.”
“And you didn’t think to inform me to expect him poking around and asking questions that are impossible for me to answer?”
“I mean, you agreed to help me get Deku out of your father’s custody…”
“And yet, Aizawa is asking about his treatment of me, just as if he knows something he shouldn’t. How could you?”
“Oi, that’s a bold fucking accusation!” True, but bold. He doesn’t want to admit that he was out of line for telling Aizawa about Todoroki being abused, but he couldn’t just say nothing.
“If I wanted to be pitied by the entire staff of UA, I would have told them myself. You had no right.” Todoroki hisses at him through the phone. Despite the obvious distance between them, Katsuki feels his hackles rise in shame, quickly followed by anger.
“Look, no one is fucking pitying you. I just wanted to help. I want to save y-”
“How many times do I have to tell you that I neither require nor desire your saving?! I can handle myself! What do you think an underground hero can do against the number two hero?!”
“I think he’ll be able to help. I think he can help get Deku and you out if you just let him.”
The line is silent for so long that Katsuki has to take it away from his ear to confirm that the call is still connected. “Halfie?”
“I don’t -” Todoroki’s voice cracks with raw splinters of emotion. “I can’t hope for this again. He’s too - once he finds out, h-he’ll -”
Katsuki shudders at his changed tone. Gone was the sharp bite of an angry soldier. Now, Todoroki just sounds plain terrified . The parallels between this conversation and his last one with Deku are striking. Once again, he doesn’t know how to help or how to make it better.
“Y-you had no right.”
Todoroki hangs up and Katsuki can only stare at his phone in suspended disbelief and fear that he somehow fucked everything up.
*
*
*
Sunlight streams through the kitchen windows, the stylish white curtains filtering the light enough that it casts the room in an ethereal morning glow. The clock ticks, indicating each passing second that pushes the time to leave for his preliminary therapy session closer. Katsuki sits at the table, picking at the fluffy omelet he’d prepared. Despite its delicious spiciness, his stomach is twisted up in knots, making the task of eating a Herculean effort. His mind is meandering in lazy circles.
This was just going to be an introduction of sorts, where they could see how much help he needs, or if the psychiatrist was the right fit for him. Yet, a tiny voice at the back of his mind insists that they’re going to kick him out of UA if he doesn’t somehow convince this professional that he is a capable person.
Both parents herd him into the car, the silence only broken by the thrum of the car engine. His cheek is pressed against the cool windows, eyes glazed over at the passing scenery. Masaru clears his throat, getting Katsuki’s attention.
“Son… you don’t really think we’re ashamed of you… right?” Masaru’s expression is gentle as he turns to face Katsuki in the backseat. Mitsuki’s fingers tighten on the steering wheel, indicating she is listening as well.
“It’s obvious you are. Maybe you just don’t realize it, but I’m not fucking stupid.”
“Katsuki, we aren’t. We just want the best for you.”
He scoffs, feeling constricted by the seat belt strapping him. Why did his father have to bring this up right this moment? “How the hell is taking away my freedom good for me?”
“You tend to misuse the freedom we give you. Anytime you leave the house freely for more than three weeks, the next thing we get is a call from the police. How do you expect us to feel?”
Fuck, Katsuki hates arguing with his dad. Masaru’s lack of anger makes it difficult to justify his own. He just talks to Katsuki in this reasonable tone that presents his side of things, showing the reasoning behind his actions and usually leading to Katsuki backing down.
“That’s not a fair statement. I haven’t gotten into trouble with the police since I was like 12.”
“No, instead you got into fights, injured other children, disrespected your teachers constantly, and ignored our attempts to reach out for you.” Masaru’s gaze is stern, his tone leaving no room to argue. “How else do you want us to keep you under control? Keeping you home was the only option.”
“I can control my fucking self!”
Mitsuki seems to have reached the end of her self control, for she snaps, “Then why the fuck don’t you? What sort of child gives his parents this many grey hairs when he’s just 15?!”
That stung. He clasps his hands together to prevent himself from forming a fist. It’s not like his teachers ever complained when he did these things. He had a powerful quirk and was clearly going to make it big so they let him get away with a lot more than he should have. Yet, he wasn’t aware that they had informed his parents of his actions so thoroughly despite not punishing him for it at school. He hates thinking about all the times he overreacted in middle school. His nerves were like naked wires and sparked at every touch. No one could say no to him. He always had to prove to everyone that he was the fucking best, even if at the back of his mind, the failure to save Deku proved otherwise.
“You claim we’re ashamed of you like it’s something we should feel bad about when you have done nothing to make us proud.”
“I got into UA, didn’t I? Wanna fucking lie and say you didn’t brag about that to your fucking friends?!” His face feels heated. Why? Why are they bringing this up now? He feels trapped in the car, in the middle of the highway with nowhere to run.
It’s Masaru’s quiet voice that shatters him. “I don’t care if you’re a hero or not Katsuki. I just care if you’re a good person.”
His lips open and close in shock. A good person. He isn’t a good person? How could he imply that? Katsuki’s mind flashes back to how upset Todoroki had been with him, how broken he’d sounded because of his actions. He thinks about all those kids he took his anger out on. He thinks about how Deku counted on him to help and he just didn’t. Fuck. For the life of him, he cannot think of anything he has done that proves he is a good person. His chest hurts and it’s suddenly harder to breathe.
“I understand that you hate being grounded. I understand that you want us to respect your agency. But we honestly have no idea how else to handle you. Anger management hasn’t worked well and I don’t believe in positive punishment. We’re trying our best to figure this out but you aren’t helping matters.”
“Well grounding for six months isn’t fucking working either. I’m this close to ignoring your rules and busting out. I’m going crazy trapped in that house. I’m your kid, not a mini criminal!
“Do you want us to beat the shit out of you? I could make those slaps I dish out look like love taps if you like, you little brat.” Mitsuki’s tone is aggravated.
“Mitsuki,” Masaru scolds.
“Fine, fine. The point is, you’re grounded because of your mistakes, not because of us. If you want to be free you have to take responsibility for your actions and act like you learn from these punishments.” Their eyes meet in the rearview mirror. “So far, all you do is sulk in your room, waste our food, demand favors, and then turn around and do the same shit all over again.”
Katsuki shrinks into his seat, stomach cramping suddenly. He needs to leave. Hell, he might just throw himself out of this moving vehicle.
“Son, your mother and I love you so much. We aren’t trying to ruin your life or hide you away. I guess we just don’t understand each other. I’m hoping a meeting with Dr. Hinata will lead to that understanding.”
He does not respond. He can’t. Of course, they would gang up on him and do this now. If they were at home, he’d have slammed his room door in their faces to escape the lecture. Now all he can do is sit here and take it. The thing that hurts the most is that they’re right. He’s been nothing but a burden on them. He can’t even blame it entirely on Deku’s absence. He’s always been a little hell child, praised every step of the way by everyone around him. His inflated ego and determination led to him deciding the law couldn’t stop him from getting what he wanted. His anger issues and enabling teachers worsened everything. The fact that everyone treated him like he was crazy for searching for Deku is just the icing on the shit cake. He’s so fucking full of shit.
He stares out the window with scowl perched on his face. On the outside, he is a ball of rage, but inside his heart, Bakugou Katsuki has never felt so alone and self-hating. It is with this devastated heart that he meets Dr. Hinata.
*
*
*
The building is crisp and clean, with modern features and glass elevators. Katsuki trails behind his parents as they speak to the receptionist, before being guided to the elevator. The ride up is silent except for the beeps signifying the floors passed and the robotic voice telling their intended floor. They get off at the sixth floor and enter a smaller reception area. The man at the desk is nothing but pure smiles and happy energy, telling them that Dr. Hinata would see them shortly. They all sit down, Katsuki making sure to sit a seat away from them.
Within two minutes, a lady with dark slanted eyes and chin-length black hair steps into view. She has an intelligent, no-nonsense look about her as if she knows exactly what she expects out of life and will wrestle the damn universe if she has to. For first impressions, she makes a strong one.
“Bakugou?” She asks. They all stand up, Masaru stepping forward to bow slightly and introduce them.
“We’re happy to meet you. Thank you for seeing us on such short notice. This is our son, Katsuki.”
Those dark eyes take him in, assessing him briefly before nodding. “I see. My name is Dr. Hinata Rio. It’s no problem at all. I’ll take Bakugou-kun over to my office now if that’s okay with you.”
Masaru nods and thanks her while Mitsuki turns to look at him with pointy red eyes. “Your dad is going to do some shopping around here so text him when you’re done. Please be cooperative, if you even know the meaning of that word.”
He shrugs, rolling his eyes away from her and following Dr. Hinata’s bright yellow pumps out of the waiting area. Her office is large, with bright sunlight streaming in through black blinds. Leather chairs facing each other are the main focus of the room, with a clean desk on the far side and interesting sculptures and drawings dotting the area. Behind the desk are an overflowing bookshelf, file cabinets, shelves, and a mini-fridge.
“Have a seat,” Dr. Hinata says, indicating the leather chairs. He sits stiffly, waiting for her to appear. “Would you like anything to drink? I have orange juice, sparkling water, or hot tea.”
“I’m okay.”
She pours some orange juice into a wine glass and takes the seat across from him with the drink primly held within her grasp. She places a sleek tablet on her knees, tapping at it for a few seconds before looking at him with a small smile.
“So, why don’t we get to know each other better? You may call me Hinata-sensei. I was raised outside Kyoto and have been a practicing psychiatrist and quirk counselor for the past ten years. How about you?”
“Call me Bakugou. I go to UA, and I’m going to be a hero,” he responds gruffly. He finds it hard to meet her gaze, so he settles instead on watching the way the orange juice swirls when she moves.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bakugou. Do you understand why you’re here?”
Irritation flashes through him quickly. “I’m not a fuc- I mean, yes I do.”
Hinata-sensei shakes her head at him. “No need to censor yourself for me. Speak freely. Everything you say to me is completely confidential.”
“But what about your assessment for my school?” He frowns.
“That assessment is based on my perception of your mental state and capability to function in stressful environments, not if you like to curse from time to time. I assure you that I just want to understand you better, okay? So no self-censorship.” Her tone is soft, but still retains that level of efficient professionalism that oozes from her pores. He thought he should be intimidated, but it only fills him with a kind of relief.
“... Fine.”
“Good. I’ll tell you about my quirk now. It is a mental-type, that functions as a two way street between me and whoever I come into contact with. Anyone who meets me will see the qualities they trust most within me. In turn, I can sense what they wish to see and act accordingly. As a result, people end up being more open with me than they expect. So don’t feel surprised by that.”
That got his interest. He appraised her again carefully, but he could see no visible quirk in action.
“So tell me, Bakugou, what do you see in me?”
He thinks for a bit before responding. “You look like you can get shit done. Like you don’t take any nonsense and wouldn’t blink if this building suddenly came crashing down around our ears. You would just know exactly what to do and get it done, no questions asked.”
She nods. “With the way my quirk works, I end up learning a lot about a person from what kind of person they would trust. Most people value kindness, warmth, and common ground. You value success and control. Why is that?”
“I mean, it’s not like I wouldn’t trust a kind person… I just have a hard time not seeing kindness as fucking pity. I don’t need anyone’s pity. I just want to do what needs to be done to win.”
Most of the fights he had with kids stemmed from their perceived pity. If he tripped and fell, and some snotty kid came up to help him up, he snapped and kicked them for daring to look down at him. It took a lot to learn that Deku’s kindness wasn’t pitying, and that grace wasn’t extended to anyone else.
“I see,” she says with a look that tells him they will revisit this eventually, “what’s your quirk?”
The abrupt change in topic confuses him but he goes with it.
“I make the sweat on my palms explode.” He demonstrates with a few sparks and she nods with bright eyes.
“That quirk must be very powerful. You’re probably very careful about how you use it.”
“Yeah. I practice a lot though, so now most of the adjustments I make are second nature.”
She sips her orange juice. “Wouldn’t some say you’ve succeeded in controlling your quirk?”
“They would. But my quirk isn’t the reason I’m here.”
“Indeed it isn’t. Since I know you prefer it when I cut to the chase, I’ll do just that. I want you to be comfortable talking and sharing things you would otherwise want to keep hidden. That takes time, and thankfully, we have it. So, we’re going to start with a little exercise. Four words describing how you felt before you stepped into my office, as fast as you can. Go!”
Katsuki panics a little at her words. He needs time to sort those feelings out, not just blurting shit out. But she is waiting expectantly so he just lets his mouth go. “Angry, frustrated, guilty, trapped.”
“Do you mind sharing why?”
He thinks about telling her about the conversation with his parents, but he is way too sore about it to talk. “I don’t really want to talk about some of it.” The thought of sharing his inadequacies about Deku and his spiraling life just fucking stings.
“That’s okay. Tell me what you can. Or we can just sit here for a bit and calm down together.”
He rolls his eyes at the thought of sitting in silence. He’s had enough of tension-filled silences to last him ten lifetimes. He can at least stick to some of his surface-level issues.
“I fucked up the other day. I hurt a classmate by speaking to a teacher about some shit that wasn’t my business. Now he hates me more than he already did.”
“Do you think you did the right thing?”
He rubs his jaw, a bit frustrated again. He knows he did the right thing overall. But it felt like the wrong thing. He tells her as much, tugging his chin in thoughtful irritation.
“Labels like right and wrong make situations seem black and white when they’re really fucking grey. How am I supposed to do the right thing all the time when doing the right thing hurts someone? Or when the wrong thing saves someone? Everyone makes it seem so fucking easy like they were built with a roadmap for life, but I’m just here fucking stumbling around.”
“But if the wrong thing saves someone, who can call it wrong?”
“Exactly! I just did what I felt had to be done and I get so much shit for it. Like, I understand some things should and shouldn’t be done, but if I’m not hurting anyone and it’s for the right reason, why does everyone paint me as the monster?”
“Tell me, Bakugou. What makes a reason right or wrong to you?” Hinata-sensei looks interested in his statements, not horrified by his lack of supposed morals.
“I… fuck, I don’t know. I can just… tell.”
“Would you mind giving an example of a time when you could just tell?”
His brows furrow as an example pops into his head. “It’s a bit classified, so you really can’t tell anyone.”
She lifts a solemn hand, dark eyes amused by his pensiveness.
“You remember that Hero Killer shit from a while back? Yeah, I could smell that bullshit from a mile away. He kept going on and on about an ideal society of truly good heroes and how he has to cull the bad ones. But he was just making those rules by himself and killing people over his ideas. I knew that wrong. Even if the concept of a perfect hero is good, it’s ultimately unrealistic, you know? Cuz people don’t work like that. People are mostly shitheads.”
Hinata-sensei smiles at that. “I can’t say you’re wrong there. The thing is though, you do seem to have a strong sense of what’s right and wrong. You’ve got your own roadmap, but since it’s slightly different from the people you know, you’re thinking you just don’t. Philosophers for centuries have pondered the subjective nature of rightness and wrongness, and in the end, it’s different for everyone, based on their experiences and their mental scapes.”
He frowns, twisting the words over and over in his head. “Then if I know I’m right, why do I feel so fucking guilty? Why isn’t being right enough?”
Her dark eyes meet his for a few seconds. “That’s a question you have to answer for yourself. If I just told you, you wouldn’t value it. Why is being right not enough for you ?”
She lets him sit and stew on it for a while. He asks himself over and over. Why does he even give a damn about Todoroki’s feelings when he knows he did the right thing? The answer eludes him for a bit.
“It wasn’t my place. It was his situation to share, not mine. So even if it was right, it was also wrong. I don’t like feeling like I did the wrong thing.”
“If only we could always do right by ourselves,” Hinata-sensei says quietly. “Your guilt is proof that you aren’t a monster, Bakugou. Monsters do not feel remorse for their actions. The pain of their victims is inconsequential.”
The words stir up the warmth in his chest that collides with the cold feeling of despair that was building all morning. The two sensations battle within him, making him clench his jaw. He wants to believe her, but what does she truly know about him?
“I just don’t want to feel this sick guilt anymore.”
“Have you considered offering an apology?”
“An apology.” The words are sour on his lips since he knows he doesn’t value simple apologies. They are a waste if the person’s actions don’t follow through.
“Will you?”
He rolls his eyes. “I have to go a step further. Prove to him that he can trust me. That I’ll do whatever I can to show that I did what I did for the right reason.”
“You sure do love talking in vague terms,” Hinata-sensei laughs.
“Fuck, I ain’t betraying him again.”
At the back of his mind, an idea forms. It is one that may just bring Todoroki back to his side. He just has to prove himself to him, even if it meant doing the so-called “wrong” thing.