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Katsuki was known for his anger.
He'd learned long ago that it made a great mask. That if people were scared to get near you, they wouldn’t look too close. They wouldn’t see the brokenness, the doubt, the dark corners filled with forgotten pain and loneliness.
Don’t let them near and they can’t pick at your peeling paint, poke at your tired bones and empty chest.
So he wrapped himself in callouses. Bled until he liked the taste of blood. Pushed until the pain was a comforting friend.
And kept everyone else far away.
He took pride in the looks of disgust and shock. It meant people would look the other way. Move on to someone else.
Someone better.
Someone worthwhile.
Only in the quiet of his room would he break.
He’d slam the door and yell and throw his shit, all with a calm face. It was all an act. And once the play was done, he’d draw the curtains and make a small space for himself on the floor.
He’d let the terror in first. The trembling, shaking panic that nipped at his skin and set his nerves jangling. He’d settle into the back of his mind and watch himself fall apart. Watch as his hands clawed his scalp, as the tears blurred his vision, as his lungs rattled and shook.
He couldn’t breathe.
He wasn’t good enough, strong enough, smart enough.
He wasn’t worth the air.
The loneliness would hit next. The realization that no one could love him. He wasn’t worth loving. He was broken, flawed, useless. Not worth the time.
People liked to remind him of it.
"He's dangerous, not fit to be a hero," they said, “He’d make a great villain,” they said.
Maybe one day he’d prove them right.
But probably not. That took someone stronger than him.
And Katsuki wasn’t strong.
He’d sit there on his floor until his body was numb. The numbness was nice. Familiar. It made it easier to pretend.
Eventually he’d sleep, and then he’d start again.
Slip into his anger as he dressed. Remind himself to scowl harder, to snap and bark, to keep everyone else at arms length.
His mask kept him safe, after all.
It was all he had.
And then, one day, it wasn’t enough.
A too bright smile and shitty red hair.
Kirishima didn’t care about his mask, his anger, his biting tongue and vile attitude. Kirishima was ignoring the rules of the game.
It was terrifying.
Katsuki yelled louder, pushed harder, threw insults he knew would hurt. Kirishima took it all. It was fitting. He was unbreakable, after all.
Not like Katsuki, already broken, sitting on the razor edge of shattering.
So he ran. Shut himself away. Cursed Kirishima in the quiet of his room.
How dare he get in close? How dare he think Katsuki needed him? How dare he think Katsuki was capable of being his friend?
Katsuki was broken. He didn’t deserve friends. He didn’t deserve Kirishima.
Kirishima didn’t care. He pushed into his room one night, snuck behind the stage curtains, and held Katsuki while he fell apart.
It was too much.
No one was supposed to see him like this.
So he snarled and clawed and pounded explosions into Kirishima’s chest. He screamed and he cried and Kirishima held him tighter.
“You don’t have to do this alone, Katsuki.”
Lies.
Kirishima was lying to him and that hurt.
He needed Kirishima to leave.
So he went quiet. Pretended he was calm. Pretended he was okay. He just needed sleep.
It worked well enough. Kirishima tucked him into bed. Said he’d check on him in the morning.
He waited until he heard the door close, until he heard Kirishima in his room settling in for the night, before he slipped onto his porch.
Katsuki stood at the railing and stared at the ground below.
He wondered just how far he’d need to drop to stop hurting.
“Katsuki... please.” Kirishima stood in the doorway, tired, scared. “Please, Katsuki. Don’t go where I can’t follow you.”
“Why?” He was crying again and he hated it. Weak, he was so damn weak.
“I need you.”
“No one needs me.” He dropped to his knees, held the railing with a death grip. It smoked beneath his palms and he stared at the glow.
“You don’t see it, do you?” Kirishima asked, and Katsuki realized he was crying, too. “You’re incredible. You’re strong and brave and-“
“Stop lying to me!”
“I’m not! Fucking listen to me for one goddamned minute Katsuki!”
He snapped his teeth together and obeyed.
“I don’t know what’s in your head and I don’t need to know. Whatever it is hurts and I’m tired of watching you let it. You deserve better.” Kirishima slumped forward, dropped heavily to the ground beside Katsuki and took his face in his hands.
They were warm, and surprisingly soft.
“Please let me in. Let me show you what I see every day, the incredible man who inspires me, drives me to be my best. He’s going to be a great hero someday. Already is in my book. You deserve to meet him.”
Katsuki’s vision swam and he wanted to run, to tell Kirishima just how wrong he was... but he couldn’t get the words out. They felt fake next to Kirishima’s sincerity.
“Let me love you, Katsuki.”
He broke, all over again.
He felt the shards in his chest as they snapped, the sob that clawed out of his throat. It hurt, it hurt so damn bad. But there were arms around his shaking shoulders, stupid red hair and a too bright smile.
He wasn’t alone this time... and maybe he didn’t have to be.
Katsuki curled into Kirishima’s chest and let himself be broken. He was safe here, and maybe...
Maybe he could learn to be wanted.