Archive of Our Own ^beta

katsuki doesn’t think he self harms. no, that’s a stupid thought to him. self harm was like, cutting yourself or starving. someone like him didn’t do that. or in better words, he couldn’t afford to do that. cutting his wrists or thighs was dangerous, and it’d only risk his performance as a hero. he drains too much energy in a day, that if he tried to starve himself.. it’d only result in people finding out immediately.

point is, katsuki wasn’t someone who self harmed.

it’s not self harm if he lets his opponents land their hits a few times, just to feel the harsh sting of a punch against his face, or a kick to his leg. it’s not self harm if katsuki doesn’t go to recovery girl afterwards just so it’d hurt whenever he moves. it’s not self harm if when he sets off explosions, katsuki purposefully reacts slower to feel the burning air coming out afterwards.

no, that wasn’t self harm.

he was fine. anyone who said otherwise could fucking eat shit. so what, if his perfect, unblemished body seemed to be covered in bruises all the time? burn marks that shouldn’t even fucking be there? did it matter? to him, it didn’t.

he was just doing it because he could. katsuki could fix his act up any moment. if someone asks, he can just say he didn’t sleep enough at night, couldn’t dodge quick enough. they wouldn’t ask, honestly, he knew that much. katsuki knew those guys would be overjoyed at the fact they landed a hit on him, no matter the situation. in their joy, they wouldn’t stop and think of him, of the wince on his face, or the faraway look in his eyes.

katsuki was fine.

that’s what he’d tell anyone, blow up on them for even daring to think he wasn’t fine. shoto sure had a grand time trying to talk to him, ask him if he was okay and shit like katsuki needed help. it was annoying. worst of all? katsuki almost wanted to open up. wanted to tell shoto about every time he let someone hit him just for the sake of feeling something other than anger.

even for someone like katsuki, anger was a tiring emotion to feel. calmness was unusual. waters he’d rather not cross yet, so of course his last option seemed to just be pain. punching stuff until his knuckles were red, explosions breaking every rock on training grounds until his ears were bleeding, letting people hit him in spars till his nose was bleeding and his lip was cut, all of this seemed to just be a new ritual for katsuki.

all of it ended with him bleeding. in the end, katsuki would try and bleed, without ever outright cutting his skin. still, to him, this wasn’t self harm. that was outright self inflicted, this was just.. byproducts, accidents. even if they were easily preventable, it didn’t matter. they weren’t on purpose. definitely not.

katsuki didn’t do that shit. he didn’t. so what, if he stared at his bleeding nose a little longer in the mirror, entranced by the sticky red dripping down his lips and onto the sink? so what if he pressed a little harder against his bruises, to feel the sharp sting blooming across the injury? so what, if he bandaged himself a little tighter, to the point it was hard to breathe sometimes? none of that was self harm. that was incorrect. someone like katsuki didn’t harm himself.

he didn’t cut himself, so it wasn’t self harm. that was the one method katsuki had been taught, and he didn’t do that, so therefore it wasn’t self harm. this wasn’t anything unhealthy. katsuki would grow out of it. he knew better. he could stop if he wanted, so this wasn’t anything crazy. it couldn’t be.

…

another hit to his face, katsuki sees starts for a split second. shoto’s eyes are wide now. katsuki grunts, eyes squeezed shut as he falls back onto the mat. his vision is blurred, and his nose is dripping blood once again. a punch he saw coming, clearer than day.. and yet he let it hit. he’s so focused on the blossoming pain, and the pretty red, that he doesn’t hear shoto’s voice call out to him a few times.

“-kugo. Bakugo?” he looks up, eyes narrowed. it’s like second nature to act embarrassed, pretend like shoto had gotten the better of him once again. “Fuck off.” he snaps, standing up. “Let’s go again. Another round.”

just one more time. he’ll stop afterwards.

“Bakugo, your nose is bleeding. I don’t think we shoul-”

“You callin’ me weak, Half n’ Half? I’ll fuckin’ kill you. Come at me again.” he bites, hiding how he really felt. it’s not like katsuki hated feeling this way. it’s that he hated how he was addicted to feeling this way. hated that the blossoming pain settled in his face. how can he like the feeling of being hurt? he didn’t get it.

“I won’t.” what?

“The hell do you mean?” stupid. just fight me, dammit. why the hell are you making things harder for me? don’t act like you care, loser. you need to fuck off and leave me alone. your care is unnecessary.

“I’m not fighting you until you go to Recovery Girl and get it healed.”

“It’s just a fuckin’ nosebleed, what the hell is your issu-” shoto’s so damn good at noticing details others seem to hide. he hates that, hates how just with a small spar, katsuki’s being read like an open book.

“I’ve hit you multiple times throughout this spar, Bakugo. You haven’t dodged anything properly, when we both know you could have.”

stupid shoto and his stupid observations. katsuki wants to punch that guy so he’ll stop talking. “You can just fuckin’ say I got weaker.” he quips, trying to pretend like he took those words as a personal attack rather than an actual bit of worry. no, someone like shoto couldn’t care for someone like him. katsuki bakugo didn’t need worry, anyways. he was fine! damn anyone who says otherwise.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” shoto’s eyes narrow, now glaring at him like he was annoyed katsuki wasn’t taking shit seriously. it’s not like it was his fault. “Just fuck off, dammit. If you’re so damn insistent, I’ll go visit her, okay? Stop trying to lecture me. You’re not a teacher or my mom.”

his mom wouldn’t scold him like this, or be worried actually.

she would be worried. just.. not for him. maybe for the trouble he’s caused. ‘Katsuki! You’re so irresponsible! Why the hell would you purposefully harm yourself, huh!? Nothing’s gone wrong in your life. You ungrateful brat, look at the mess you’ve created!’

something like that, probably. he can imagine it, and that pisses him off more. instead of saying another word to shoto, he turns and grabs his water bottle, chugging it down and running off. he didn’t want to see shoto’s anger, which was just poorly hidden concern. he didn’t need any worry. know why? becayse katsuki bakugo is fine.

he’s great, actually! perfect. fucking wonderful. nothing is wrong, not at all.

he might’ve jinxed it, actually. katsuki doesn’t need his life getting even worse, but when he tries to sleep that night, a nightmare plagues his dreams. of course it does. it’s not like he ever seemed to have anything good come his way, you know. fucking never, it seems.

he’s restrained- slime is spreading across his hands. over his legs, his mouth. holy shit, he can’t breathe. there’s a voice in his ear, or is that his own? what is it saying? why can’t he understand? this isn’t right. katsuki get up. he’s stronger now. he trained so this wouldn’t happen again, dammit. get up. get up. get up.

he’s going to pass out if this keeps up. he can feel the black spots in his vision. his desperate thrashes to escape turn into weak struggles. just as he swears he’s taking his last breath, he blinks, and the scene is changed. he can see green and red. he’s up high. stage? podium? what’s happening? he opens his mouth to speak, but it’s blurred. there’s a muzzle on him. why is that there? holy shit, is it hard to breathe all of a sudden? what the fuck? katsuki needs to breathe- he needs to take that off. he tries to move his arms, panicking slightly.

his arms don’t move. they’re restrained. he’s chained down. is that cheering he hears? why is everyone so happy? he’s chained up like a dog and they’re happy? what did he do? katsuki doesn’t know. he can almost remember it but it’s so blurry and he can’t breathe and his hands are so close to exploding- he can feel the spark, but doesn’t know what happens next.

instead of being granted mercy, he’s standing up right. instead of being muzzled now, he’s greeted with a hand around his neck. it’s dabi. he’s being threatened with his life again. was this a kidnapping? why can’t he recall any of the details? get up, dammit. katsuki- you have to fight back. he can’t let himself do this. what would everyone say? why was he so weak? he raises a hand up, fear coursing in his veins. before he can even react, blue surrounds him. flames engulfing him before he could even react-

instead of waking up, he’s forced to endure white hot pain, close to passing out- before finally, his eyes snap open.

katsuki inhales sharply. his heart pounds in his ears, he sits up as he clutches his chest. his breathes come out sharp and heavy. he can still feel the ghost feeling of pain. he’s never been burnt by dabi’s flames, but his body seems to grasp the idea well enough to give him lingering pain about it. it was impossible to deal with. how do you deal with, what was basically, phantom pain? the simple thing is.. you didn’t.

or well, katsuki fuckin’ didn’t bother.

he grips his shirt like it was his life line. he finds comfort in the heartbeat he heard. overly fast and loud, but it was his. katsuki was alive. he’s fine. he’s fine. katsuki bakugo is fine! he looks down, and realises his hand is.. bleeding. his palm, to be more accurate. he must’ve dug his nails in so sharply it pierced skin. his eyes zoom into the little curves of red. they don’t bleed a lot, but he can see specks of dried blood.

such a pretty red. he’s sure, if he looked in the mirror, he’d see the same colour in his eyes. katsuki’s been surrounded by this colour his whole life. in his eyes, and even in his life. his phone case is red. his best friend’s hair is red. his bloody nose is red. the anger that blinds his vision sometimes is the colour red. the blood that circulates inside of him is red. everything about his life seems to be tinted, ruined by that one plain colour.

god, he hates that he can’t get enough of the colour either. it’s like he chases it, with every broken nose, or every moment spent with eijiro. such a simple thing, a simple fucking colour that most wouldn’t even bother with, he can’t stop chasing. why is bleeding his favorite thing to do now? what the hell was wrong with him?

katsuki needs to get a hold of himself. his eyes snap to the clock, red numbers blink back. ‘3:01’ great. what the fuck was he supposed to do now? he wasn’t supposed to be up for another two hours. he wants to go back to sleep, but with the ache in his body? the trembling from an injury that didn’t even happen? he doesn’t think his body can relax now of all times. what else could he do, dammit? who else would be up, or better yet, who else would let katsuki bother them? he couldn’t name many people, that he confidently trusted would be up and let him barge in.

god, he hates that he’s actually trying to turn to someone for comfort. he hears a thud from the room next to him, and glares at the wall separating them. shoto’s room? the hell is he doing up at this time? katsuki stands up, grunting as he almost trips and has to support himself on the bedside table. his knees threaten to buckle beneath him, as he tries to adjust to the feeling of standing upright again.

he opens his door, ignoring the way his hands were shaky and it took twice as much effort. he walks slowly to the other door, knocking on it. one hand rests against the wall nearby, trying to keep himself up. what was supposed to be a nightmare left him feeling physically weak- and god, he hates that so fucking much.

the door creaks open, and out comes shoto.

“Bakugo? I didn’t know you were awake.”

katsuki bristles at that, looking away as he coughs. “Fuck off. I heard a noise that woke me up from your room.”

“The thud was that loud? I was merely adjusting things and a few books fell.” katsuki has to bite his tongue to be harsher. “The hell are you adjustin’ things at 3 in the fuckin’ morning for!?” he questions, keeping his voice low.

“I couldn’t sleep.” and of course, shoto with his worried gaze, always so damn perceptive.. “Do you want to come in?” he offers, short and simple. shit, katsuki’s heart does a weird turn at that. he finds himself cursing under his breathe as he walks past shoto and into his room.

“This doesn’t mean shit, okay, Half n’ Half!? I-” he’s about to talk about how his reputation is more important, just ready to play his usual personality up to the max. “I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

katsuki finds himself at a loss for words. he opens his mouth to speak, looking like a goldfish as he gapes at shoto. his words taken right out of his mouth, the carpet pulled from underneath him. “Fuck off.” he stands awkwardly, until shoto points at his bed. “You can sit there, I don’t mind.”

he does that, hands in his pockets to hide the slight tremble.

they don’t talk after that. shoto returns to rearranging his room, and katsuki sitting on his bed and watching. only a few glances are shared, when the other wants his opinion for something. they manage to communicate without words, just glances.. and katsuki’s more than calm in this moment.

he finds himself focusing on the red of shoto’s hair, instead of the red of blood leaking from his own body. the two of them are just in a little bubble. the world around them asleep as they do their own things in silence.

it’s a few hours later, when shoto speaks. “Does it look better than before?” his eyes glance over katsuki, and it’s obvious that he didn’t let katsuki in just because he wanted company. out of worry too, it seems.

“It still looks like shit.”

“You’re as kind as ever.” the sarcastic reply surprises him, but in a nice way. his lips twitch, and he fights back a smirk. in this moment, he felt.. content. like pushing himself to his limits didn’t matter, that breaking his nose or pressing onto his bruises was irrelevant when sitting in the comfort of shoto’s presence.

“Oi. Was that sarcasm? Do you wanna die? I’ll kill you.” he grins wide, turning to shoto.

..he gets kicked out after. something about shoto explaining about how he doesn’t need to ruin his recently fixed room. katsuki feels lighter, like a burden pushed off his shoulders. everything still felt.. wrong, with the bruises littering his body, but somehow.. worsening them doesn’t really cross his mind.

katsuki still didn’t think he self harmed.. but now, trying to stop those destructive tendencies of his seemed a lot more accomplishable than they did before.