Chapter Text
All it took was a jab to his ribs, and Katsuki was down. Heavy breathing, legs twitching.
Bakugou was dying.
He always was.
From the minute he took his first breath.
He was made to die.
From the family he was born into to how he was raised, it was all to die. The drooping scale, the purple bruises, the fading scars. Every part of it, of him, was molded to die. The weakness, the strength. The fire, the tears. The losing and the winning.
Bakugou Katsuki was never ment to win. So it only made sense that he would fail. It was always a matter of time. On the training mat, fighting Kirishima, with all of class 1-A watching.
He tried. He really did try to silence the groan of pain. To get off the ground. But like we said, Bakugou was never made to win.
"BAKU-BRO! Are you all right?" Kirishima comes running as soon as he sees Bakugou hit the floor. Something was wrong.
"Fuck of-argh" Bakugou's argument died off as his head spun and his vision spotted. His head bounced back against the mat. Everything was so... b l u r r y ...
*Recovery Girl skrrt skrrt*
Bakugou hates hospitals. He feels so fucking weak in them. Sitting staring at a blinding white ceiling with plastic tubes shoved into your arms as a reminder to you that you're too weak to survive by yourself. It's like a stab to the gut saying, "You worthless piece of shit. You can't do anything right. God, how weak are you, can't even fucking fight without being put on life support. Worthless Bakugou. Worthless. WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT. WORTHLESS. WEAK. USELESS, WASTE OF FUCKING SPACE. GOD JUST FUCKING DIE ALREADY. DIE. DIE DIE.DI..."
"Baku-bro? Are you awake?"
Kirishima.
Damn it. The one person he didn't want to face.
"Hmpf"
"BAKU-BRO!" Kirishima wrapped his arms around Bakugou's tangly body, a blinding smile glued to his face.
"I'm so glad you're okay dude, everyone was super worried when you blacked out."
Yeah, right, they didn't care. No one ever did.
"Get the fuck off me, Shitty Hair." The usual venom didn't soak his words, and Kirishima pulled back a worried look taking the place of his smile. He could feel that something was off. Bakugou hadn't been acting like himself for a while, and Kirishima got more and more concerned. Bakugou would yell at people in the hallway if they were in the way and would just ignore Kaminari when he asked if they all wanted to play Mario Kart. Bakugou had been... quiet.
"You okay, bro? You've been acting funny all week."
"I'm fine Kirishima, fuck off."
Something was definitely wrong. Bakugou never called him Kirishima. It was like he was a whole different person.
*Bakugou is dispatched and now in his room*
A heavy sigh of relief swims around the air. Thank god Recovery Girl just thought the bruises were from training. No one could ever know what happened behind those doors. Behind the smiling models and picture-perfect family. Behind the excuses of "He doesn't listen otherwise" and "It's a different kind of parenting." Behind all the lies. Inside that house.
He was lucky, in a way that the cuts never seemed to scar. He was lucky that people didn't ask questions. He was lucky he could hide. He was lucky no one could hear him gagging at night. Even someone born to fail was lucky.