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Bakugo was sweating, which was normal since that's his fucking quirk, but more than usual. It wasn't hot or humid and the A.C was on full blast in the classroom. Bakugo was nervous sweating, his palms were drenched and it was making it hard to not explode every three fucking seconds. He had a wet streak on his pants from wiping his hands off on it. Fucking gross.
But why was he sweating so much? Why was he so damn nervous? Well, if you stopped asking and was patient for a couple of seconds he would tell you. Present Mic was forcing them to do this project. Write a poem and perform it in front of the class. They were going in order of seats and he just so happened to be last so all the anxiety he had was becoming larger and larger.
The others didn't write what he wrote, they were all silly and carefree and his was….well his. He didn't gush about rainbows and cotton candy themed heros. He let the dam containing all his feelings loose onto this piece of paper and now he had to recite it in front of every single person in the room. Including fucking Deku.
He tapped his knee and wiped his hands off one more time as he stood up at his name being called. Fuck, he was really doing this. He stood up, walked to the front of the classroom and looked out at the sea of faces watching him intently before taking a deep breath and opening his mouth.
“This is an ode to her.” He glanced at Midoriya who seemed to sit up just a bit giving him that nervous, wary look he always did. He hated it.
“Some kids have cobwebs in their attic
I have have cobwebs in my brain
And the spiders sleep in my throat.
Some kids do cartwheels for fun
I have cartwheels in my lungs
Knocking them around and bumping into my heart.
Some kids play with trucks and dolls
I played with my scabs since they'd never run out
Mom always made sure.
Some kids picked flowers
I picked at blisters and burns
I was the only one there who cared about them.
Some kids love their dads
Mine sat around reading the newspaper
Asking me to shut up was his favorite favor.
Some kids play dress up
I play hush up
But only when mom is angry, I don't want her to find me.
But I don't know why
Is it my fault because I interrupted her perfect life?
I didn't ask to be born so why am I in trouble?
Sometimes she grabs me by the hair
She drags me down the hallway
And I sit in a closet crying.
At least she won't find me after drinking brandy and rum
Attack me with her poison tipped silver tongue
Words that make my cartwheels start to run
Mom thinks I like to hyperventilate for fun.”
He glanced up from the page just a bit and was caught off guard by the looks on everyone's faces. Pity? He didn't want their pity.
“She likes to tell me I'm useless
And I was eager to agree
Maybe if I weren't so useless she'd actually love me.
I think the last time she was proud of me was when I was four
I could make explosions in my hand now
And everybody adored.
They talked to me, they said nice things
I didn't care if it was all for my power
At least they were there."
"And then there was you.” His gaze pulled up completely from the page and he pointed to Midoriya. Maybe it seemed rude to outright expose who he was talking about but he didn't give a fuck.
“Even after the walls a four year old put up
Not even adults could see through my maze and hoops.
You saw the things no one was supposed to
My bruises weren't between me and you
Stop looking at me, don't look at them.
You smiled at me
It wasn't like the others
That smile was real and it hurt so much.
I want to make you shut up
Stop saying my name
Every time you do something inside chips away.
My persona is stiff
My heart was cut out and has no beat
If beating you makes you stop then so be it.
My hands are calloused
My heart burns bright
Maybe that's why I cry at night.
I don't like to sleep
She there in my dreams
Shouting, screaming, taunting me.
I don't like you
She liked you more than me
My mom liked you more than her son.
My mom liked you
And I don't like my mom
Whatever my mom likes is bad in my book.
But now I'm here
And she's somewhere else
My mind is getting clear with each passing day.
I still feel the drowning
I feel the pulling on my arms
But right now I'm not afraid the farther I step away.
She's not in sight
Her words don't reach
I'm so far away I feel free.
I'm here
I'm me
She can't do anything about that.
I won't listen to her
I'll block her number
Because for all the years I had to deal with her?
She can tell me how my whole ass tastes.”
He handed the paper to Mic and strode over to his desk to grab his bag. He slung the heavy piece of shit over his shoulders and spun on his heel, he was out of the classroom faster than the stunned kids in room could blink.
He shut the door to his room and counted the seconds go by as he sat on his bed. He was about three thousand in when a knock came on his door. He grunted softly in reply and watched as the gang of idiots he called friends strode in with blankets and pillows. He scoffed at the worried expression on their faces and stood up to turn the TV on.
“Don't just fucking stand there like barbie dolls, help me pick some damn movies.” And without even a second of hesitance, he was surrounded and crowded by idiots shouting over what to watch like children. It felt nice.