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Seeing you trapped in yourself tears him up just as much as it does you. He hates seeing you at a loss for words, hates knowing you’re at your wits end with life, hates seeing you suffer in your own hands. He wishes you could see yourself the way he does. Whereas he always thought everything was mostly just black and white, you’ve shown him a world full of vibrant colors. You’ve shown him a world that’s beautifully imperfect, a world that he can call home.
Bakugou takes your hand the second that the two of you have some free time and drags you away without a good explanation. He doesn’t tell you exactly where it is he’s taking you, just that you’ll like it. Turns out it’s one of those places that allows people to break plates for fun…or in this case, to let out some emotions. You might think it silly, but Bakugou insists on it. He brings along a permanent marker as well, and before you can even ask what it’s for, he tells you to go ahead and write out your emotions onto the plate before you throw it and break it. He fishes another marker out of his pocket and tells you he’ll do the same with his, but not to compare the two, because he’s been doing this for a long time; he won’t have as much to write down. But he strongly encourages you to fill the whole thing up.
You do. You write down whatever it is that’s troubling you, the things you’ve gone through, all the thoughts that have been spiraling out of control in your head and taking away from your happiness. You write down your insecurities, and things you consider failures, and the things you feel have control over you and your life. Bakugou waits for you to be done, and then when you’re finished, you just kind of stare at it.
Katsuki throws his plate first to show you it’s okay to do so, to make you feel more comfortable with the situation and show you how it’s done. He winds his arm back confidently, flexes his grip on the plate, and when he tosses it, he grins and watches it soar through the empty area in front of you before it crashes to the ground and shatters into a hundred little pieces. The plate is gone, and along with it everything that he wrote onto it with permanent ink. He gives a little nod to himself and smirks in triumph- and then, when he turns back to you, he says something that changes the way you’ve been thinking lately.
“See that? None of that shit that I wrote on the plate actually matters. It’s gone now. It doesn’t hold any power over me, and it can’t affect me any more. What does matter is that I’m here with you in this very moment, alive, and I get to make my own choices to be here.”
It takes a moment for his words to sink in, but when they do, you feel slightly more in control.
“And breaking shit always feels good too, so there’s that. You alright over there?”
Instead of answering, you take a deep breath in and prepare yourself for what you’re about to do. A part of you doesn’t want to let go of the plate, doesn’t want to destroy something that you worked hard on and feel like you’re a part of. But another part wants to see it break, wants to send it flying to the hard cement floor in front of you and watch as it cracks and splits and…releases. Because as much as it scares you, you want to see that in yourself. You’re tired of being stuck inside your head, of not making choices, of being so angry and upset and not being able to do anything about it. You’re tired of the past controlling your life.
So you pull your arm back, exhale, and send the plate soaring through the air as far as you can. Granted, it doesn’t make it very far, but it’s still oddly satisfying to hear it clatter to bits and pieces.
“So? How’d it feel?” Bakugou asks from beside you.
“It felt…nice,” you answer honestly.
Suddenly the permanent marker is being passed your way with another plate.
“You wanna do it again?”