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Katsuki is hugging his knees to his chest and staring listlessly through his balcony door when a knock comes from behind him.
He frowns and glances at his alarm clock. 2am.
Another knock sounds through the wood as he's contemplating who it could be. Whoever it is is clearly impatient.
He's half expecting Aizawa, there to finally drag him off to the nuthouse for the scene he caused earlier. Or maybe Kirishima, who Katsuki’s sure is the only person brave enough to wake him at this hour. He's not expecting the person actually at his door.
“The fuck d’you want, Ponytail?” He shifts his weight, a sign of anxiety he'd never allow in the daytime.
Yaoyorozu’s body language is uncomfortable, but her eyes are determined. Katsuki already regrets opening his door, and she hasn't even opened her mouth yet.
“Bakugou-san, I apologize for bothering you at this hour. However, there is something I would like to discuss with you, and I feel it cannot wait. Please join me for tea downstairs,” her words are concise, and he knows she isn't going to let him refuse.
Katsuki briefly considers blowing up her face and telling her to fuck off. He hasn't acted that way in days. This past week has completely fucked him up.
Instead of acting like himself, he sighs and motions for her to lead the way.
Two weeks prior to Ponytail showing up to his room uninvited, Katsuki is eating lunch with his friends and actually having a decent time.
Sero has just cracked a joke so crass that Kaminari is mildly short circuiting, and Jirou is patting his back while trying to hold back laughter.
Katsuki is hiding his twitching lips behind a carton of strawberry milk when a group of Gen-Ed students catches his eye.
The group consists of three girls and two guys, and they're all sitting at a table directly in his line of sight. They're also all glancing at him, then looking away when they notice his glare on them. The guys are smirking, and the girls are blushing and giggling.
This shit has been happening all day, ever since he left the dorms for class this morning, and he's fucking sick of it.
Katsuki is mad, yeah, but he's also confused. He hasn't been involved in any major incidents lately, nor has he done anything embarrassing or shameful that he's aware of.
Unfortunately, the extras at UA have become immune to his glare after experiencing it for a year.
Time to up the ante.
He huffs a breath through flared nostrils, shoves his chair back, and makes his way over to the table with his palms sparking.
Their snarky expressions fade real fast. Good.
“Just what is so fucking funny, huh?” He demands of the plain looking guy at the very end of the table. A hush falls over the other tables in the area, everyone eager for gossip.
“N-nothing man! I don't know what you're talking about, honest!” He says, scooting as far away from Katsuki as possible.
Katsuki scoffs. Honest . Sure, okay.
“Bullshit. You and your douchebag friends have been looking at me and giggling up a goddamn storm for the past five minutes. So tell me what it is, you fucking bastard! I wanna laugh too,” Katsuki grabs him by the collar and yanks him up so they're face to face.
“Hey, let Suzuki-kun go! He didn't do anything!” Exclaims a timid looking girl across the table from the bastard Katsuki is holding.
He glances at her, and drops the coward apparently known as ‘Suzuki-kun’ in favor of addressing her. “You were cackling like a little hyena too, don't pretend! How about you tell me what's going on, and I won’t blast this asshole straight to hell,” he growls through gritted teeth.
She looks hesitant, so he sparks his palms to speed up her decision making.
“Okay, okay! Let me get my phone out, jeez.”
“Make it quick.”
She pulls out her phone and taps at it for a second, before turning it to face him. Katsuki doesn't comprehend what he's seeing for a moment.
‘Months Until Bakugou Katsuki’s 18th Birthday!’
Below the title is a timer and a photo of him in his torn-to-shreds hero costume after a rough day at his internship. It's candid, taken on the train. The angle is low, meaning the amateur photographer was seated while taking it.
Someone has edited a bright, cartoonish blush onto his cheeks, and the photo is zoomed in close enough to see his bare chest and torso where his tank top had ripped almost in two.
The timer reads 6m02d12hr20min54sec.
“What the fuck,” he whispers as he stumbles back a step. Whatever he thought he was expecting, it wasn't that.
His body feels too hot. His chest is tight, and he's breathing too fast. He's sweating too much, and all he knows is he needs to get out of there.
Bakugou Katsuki doesn't run away from anything. Kidnappers, hostage situations, all out war. Nothing phases him, he's badass, he's gonna be number one, the best strongest greatest-
he runs out of the cafeteria.
Katsuki has been forced to bear comments about his appearance from a young age.
Katsuki can play the drums excellently. He defeats every opponent in his three martial arts classes, and can outperform all of his classmates in his dance lessons. He’s at the top of his class in school. Not to mention how crazy strong his quirk is becoming, and he's only ten years old. No one gives a shit about any of that, though.
“You look just like your mother!”
“Just look at that pretty face.”
“Katsuki-kun has such a sweet little face, he'll be a model like his mama for sure!”
“Wow Bakugou-san, your skin is like, totally perfect. What's your routine?”
“His eyes are striking, and that hair! He's a mini you, Mitsuki! You must be so proud!”
Proud of what exactly, Katsuki isn't sure. It's not like his mom did anything special, popping out a kid that looks just like her. He doesn't get why his appearance is treated like an accomplishment, and his actual accomplishments are treated like something boring, expected of him.
When Katsuki makes his way to hero training after definitely not panicking in the bathroom, his friends are waiting in the locker room. Thankfully, it seems Kirishima snagged his bag from the cafeteria when he realized Katsuki wasn't coming back.
It's immediately obvious that they know exactly what happened. He can tell just by looking at their stupid faces. God, the whole damn class has probably seen the website by now.
Katsuki ruthlessly shoves down the emotion that swells up inside of him. It feels suspiciously like shame.
“Hey, Bakubrooo! Excited for training today? I bet you're totally ready to explodo-kill everyone and beat us all,” Pikachu exclaims in what is possibly the most faux-casual tone Katsuki has ever heard.
“I'll destroy you,” Katsuki states with calm certainty.
“Ahaha, you betcha, dude,” he glances at Tape-Face for help, and receives a shrug in return. For some reason, they're always more nervous when Katsuki is coldly threatening than when he's literally exploding.
Kirishima has been uncharacteristically silent throughout the whole exchange. His eyes are suspiciously wet when Katsuki looks over at him.
“Jesus Christ, Shitty Hair. I'm fine, it's just a stupid website,” Katsuki dismisses.
“But you left. You left really fast, Bakugou, you practically ran-” Katsuki snarls at him before he can finish telling that fucking lie.
“I didn't run, you bastard! I left so I wouldn't get suspended for killing those assholes, not because of whatever dumbass reason you're all thinking!” Bakugou stomps out to the field without waiting for a response.
Kirishima, Sero, and Kaminari all exchange a resigned glance before following Bakugou out.
Out on the field where their first class was held, Katsuki makes aggressive eye contact with every extra who thinks they can pity him.
Ponytail needs to direct her fake sympathy elsewhere, thanks. Katsuki doesn't need nor want it. She turns her gaze away.
The little purple perv has no such self preservation skills.
“Did you guys see that crazy site about Bakugou? Everyone's talking about it. There's tons of comments from hotties saying how excited they are for him to be legal,” he’s practically salivating as he leers at Katsuki, jealousy plain in his voice.
“What the fuck did you just say, you little creep? How ‘bout you come say that right to my face if you're so brave,” Katsuki stomps over to him, palms sparking wildly. Nausea and fury well up inside him. He didn't know there were comments on that website.
“Even the guys are calling you ‘jailbait’. You're bi, right? You’re so luc-,” he cuts off, Froggers tongue slapping him clean across the face.
Katsuki prepares to deal a finishing blow. He's gonna kill this scumbag.
The sparks abruptly die out, courtesy of Aizawa walking up to the group and activating his quirk.
“Enough. Bakugou, Mineta, save it for training,” he says, voice and gaze equally exhausted. “Let's get started.”
Training is no different than usual. Katsuki is able to use his anger to fuel his determination, as per usual, and he does well.
Briefly, he wonders if Aizawa heard what Mineta had said. If he did, it doesn't seem like he's too bothered by the situation, so Katsuki figures he shouldn't be either.
If it was a concern, one of his teachers would have done something about it. None of them have even approached him, so he tries not to think about it.
He's gotta get used to this kind of thing if he wants to have a career in the public eye.
Three days after discovering the countdown, a situation occurs.
He, Kirishima, and Todoroki are making their way back to UA after visiting a new cat cafe.
They all get along surprisingly well. Kirishima’s boisterous personality is tempered by Todoroki’s social ineptitude, and Katsuki is loath to admit it, but he enjoys being around them. Neither of them have ever tried to change him, seem to accept him as he is, and that means something to him.
It's after boarding the train that things go south. Just after lunchtime on a Saturday, the train is packed.
Katsuki values his personal space above almost all else, but he's well accustomed to not getting it while traveling.
That's why, at the first touch to his shoulder, he doesn't react. Instead, he tries to pay attention to the conversation between Shitty Hair and Icyhot.
The second touch, now on his lower back, makes him twitch. He ignores it. He tries.
The third touch has Katsuki whipping his head around in anger. He isn't a moron, and he knows that wasn't an innocent little accident. The person behind him groped his ass, hard.
He makes eye contact with a tall, well-dressed man. His breath is hot on Katsuki’s face, and his smirk is smug. The guy's face is practically daring Katsuki to lose his cool and explode in a train full of people.
Katsuki feels frozen, unsure of how to react. Does he shout at the man and cause a scene? Usually he wouldn't hesitate to do that, maybe knee him in the groin to knock him down a peg.
But… the train really is packed, and everyone has a phone. If Katsuki loses it, the video will be posted before he's even at his stop.
He can't help but recall how well it went for him the last time a video of him freaking out was posted.
Katsuki was fucking kidnapped for that one.
It kills him inside to turn around and ignore the man. He shuffles closer to Kirishima, who grins at him briefly before turning back to Icyhot.
Thankfully, the man doesn't touch him again.
Another two days pass, and Katsuki practically sleepwalks to home room on Monday morning.
Lately, he's been unable to sleep. What little sleep he does get is restless and interrupted, and this completely throws him off his game.
This break in his routine begins a domino effect. Katsuki skipped his morning run today, and therefore also missed his protein shake. He's currently running on two apples and spite.
Later that night, nauseous and unable to sleep, Katsuki finds himself knocking at Kirishima’s door.
It's not even midnight on a Saturday, so he figures Shitty Hair will still be up. He is correct.
“Hey man, what's up? You're not usually up this late,” Kirishima greets when Katsuki stands silently in his doorway.
“Can’t fuckin’ sleep.”
“Wanna watch me play Mario Kart? That usually knocks you right out,” Kirishima offers without hesitation.
Katsuki is so grateful that Kirishima strong-armed him into friendship. He’ll never say it out loud, but it's true.
He watches Kirishima lose approximately fifty times before he finally feels drowsy enough to sleep.
Kirishima offers Katsuki a smile when he heads back to his room, and Katsuki pretends not to notice the poorly concealed concern.
Before he knew about the website, Katsuki would look in the mirror and see his mother. He came to terms with that a long time ago.
Now when Katsuki looks in the mirror, all he can see is what others have made him out to be. The body that he has spent so much time honing into his image of what the Number One Hero should be is now just a tool for someone else's pleasure.
So many “someone else's”, it makes him physically ill to even think about it.
Katsuki made the unfortunate decision to visit the website and read the comments thinking it would ease the anxiety he was feeling over his classmates knowing information he didn't know about what the public was saying about him.
It's a mistake Katsuki doesn't plan to make twice.
His eyeliner is laying at the top of his garbage can. There was an unexpectedly large number of comments about it.
A new design for his costume plagues the pages of his notebook. He's considering wearing a modified version of his winter outfit year-round. Maybe less form fitting.
He can't make eye contact with himself when he washes his face, and is furious and sad that he's become so weak.
Katsuki grabs an old shirt from his drawer and tosses it over the mirror. He doesn't plan on taking it down any time soon.
It all comes to a (literal) blow exactly seven days after what has been dubbed The Cafeteria Incident.
What would have seemed like a harmless prank last week is now the catalyst to Katsuki completely losing his fucking mind in front of his entire class.
The merry band of morons he calls friends steal his clothes while he's in the shower. Before, this would have seriously pissed him off.
Now, it pisses him off, makes him sick, and flsends him careening p.
Katsuki makes sure his towel is wrapped firmly around his waist, then heads to the common area on a warpath.
Kaminari bolts the moment they make eye contact.
Katsuki runs at him, and chases him around the couch, dead set on wringing his pathetic neck and retrieving his clothing- in that order.
He's in front of the balcony door when he feels the eyes on him.
On his exposed torso, chest, neck, on his fucking skin.
“Stop it! Stop looking at me, fucking stop! I'm sick of it! Are you fuckers happy now? I bet you were all laughing behind my back about that damn website. Let me guess, one of you made the stupid thing as a prank, right? Thought it’d be real funny to mess with me, touch me all the fucking time and freak me out, well guess what?! It's not fucking funny, okay, so can you just stop?!”
Nausea hits him full force, and he gags. Faceless classmates have started to realize that something is truly wrong, and they make their way to him.
Katsuki is suffocating. He is 14 and dying while a crowd watches and does nothing. He is 16 and muzzled and being treated worse than a villain in front of a crowd that watches and does nothing. He is 17 and dying inside while a crowd watches and waits for him to turn 18 so they can call him legal .
“Get the fuck away from me! Don't fucking touch me!”
When Katsuki feels hands settle on his shoulders and hair, he knows he's about to lose control. For the first time since he was a child, he loses control of his quirk because of his emotions. Instead of making him stronger, these feelings are tearing him apart.
Thankfully, he has enough presence of mind to aim his hands straight at the balcony doors.
The blast is concussive. Glass shards fall around and on him, but he doesn't feel them.
Water is pouring on him, but he doesn't care.
Katsuki thinks he hears the fire alarm going off, and Four-Eyes’ voice trying to calm everyone down. He doesn't care about that, either.
He doesn’t care about anything. Doesn't feel anything. Someone tries to guide him up, away from the damage he caused and the glass he's kneeling in. He doesn't let them.
“You're no fool, Bakugou-san. I'm sure you have an idea of what I wanted to discuss with you,” Ponytail starts, sipping at her yuppie tea delicately.
He gives her his best unimpressed stare.
“Right. Well, it's probably best to get right to it,” she starts. “You’re being sexually harrassed and it's clearly having an impact on you,” her hand goes up to silence him when he begins to protest.
“Please, Bakugou-san. I know what sexual harassment looks like,” she pauses to make eye contact with him. “All of the girls in 2A can relate, probably every girl in this school can on some level. However, the-,” she falters here, “website. The crude comments and wandering hands when you're out and about, just living your life. Classmates thinking you're lucky, as if this treatment is a gift... These are all things I personally understand.”
Her speech brings to mind images of Mineta harassing every girl in his class. Whereas before he thought he was doing the girls a favor by turning a blind eye, now…
“Honestly, I always thought he was a disgusting little creep. But I figured, if it was happening to me…,” he trails off, trying to put his thought process into words. If Yaoyorozu is surprised that Katsuki is discussing this instead of his own situation, it doesn't show.
Katsuki takes a deep breath and tries again. “I figured I'd be pissed. If someone assumed I couldn’t handle that little pervert and stepped in, I'd be furious. So I didn't say anything, and you girls never let him get away with shit, so I thought you were handling it. But you shouldn't have had to do it alone. I,” his brow furrows, and he meets her rapidly glistening eyes.
“I’m sorry, Yaoyorozu. When it was happening to me, I- goddamnit, I- I didn’t know what the fuck to do. How to make it stop. And I only had to deal with that shit for a week. Fuck, I'm so fucking pathetic,” he rubs at his eyes with his fingertips.
Katsuki’s throat is tight, and he looks away from her and attempts to clear it. It doesn't work. Yaoyorozu lays a gentle hand over Katsuki’s.
“I know exactly how you feel, believe me. Knowing that life will always be this way, and there is nothing you can do to stop people from treating you that way… it is the most helpless feeling in the world,” tears are falling down her cheeks, and she clenches her eyes tightly. Her hand grips his as if she's steadying herself.
That's exactly what she's doing, Katsuki realizes when Yaoyorozu opens her eyes and then her mouth.
“We aren't helpless, though. You, me, the other girls in our class. We have each other. Maybe we can't stop the harassment from the public, but at the very least we should be able to stop it in our school. If all of us come together and go to Aizawa, or even right to Nezu, I'm sure something will be done,” she declares, sounding every bit the class VP she is.
Her confidence falters for a moment when she looks at him. “That is- if you are willing to come forward and help me. Help us.”
Katsuki continues staring at her for a moment. Then, he grins.
Bakugou Katsuki does not run away. Not from anything.