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“Clear out your night, Fuckers, because I'm bringing you all to a party.” Katsuki announced, slamming his hands down on Izuku's desk, who was startled at the sudden noise and glared at the older teen in annoyance. In retaliation, Katsuki stuck out his tongue, his canines poking out.
Izuku rolled his eyes, then peered down at his desk.
On the table were five black cards with gold lettering and the embellished initials ‘TN’, of which Izuku assumes belongs to the host of the social-gathering, engraved on the note cards. The invites sat ominously, and Izuku could already tell that the night wasn't going to be a regular night. A chill creeps down his spine, and he already regrets the fact that he'll most definitely be joining the group's expedition.
Dehisa comments, jovially, in contradiction to everything Izuku believes, “This is gonna be a night to remember.”
Izuku looks arounds, glancing at the few students who lingered after the final bell to make sure they weren't listening to their conversation in case they overheard and threatened him to give them his homemade lunch in exchange for silence. Izuku had only just stopped feeding Tsubasa a bite of his food in his tradeoff of his own silence from the one time he used Tsubasa as an alibi for a sleepover when he was actually sneaking into a pet store. Concluding no one was listening in, he whispers, covering his mouth with his hand, “Will they have drugs?”
“Damn, Deku!” Dehisa shouts, punching Izuku on the shoulder, grabbing the attention of the other Aldera alumni, who give them a curious pass of their eyes. “Didn't realize you had that in you.” He smirks, shaking his head. “What would Mama Inko think if she knew her son wanted to do drugs?”
“You know that's not what I mean,” Izuku grounds out. Dehisa only shrugs his shoulders in response, playing dumb to what Izuku meant.
“Do I also have to go?” Imada asks, pointing to himself. His back Is slouched, and he leans heavily on his desk, shoulders hiked up to his ears. “You know I'm not good with loud spaces.”
“Nah,” Katsuki acknowledges, “You don't have to go ‘Mada, just thought I would offer it to you.” He ruffles the taller teens' hair, and says, “But the rest of you lot, you're stuck with me.” His teeth are on display, appearing not unlike a deranged animal, and Izuku sinks further in his seat.
Dehisa woops, punching the air, while Tsubasa gives the group a large grin. “I'm down.” He says. His fingers dance on the screen of his phone, typing a short message—probably to his older brother—then adds, “Rich people have all kinds of weird food.”
Kariage and Izuku lock eyes, having a silent conversation with one another, both of them knowing for absolute certainty that there is something off about such an exclusive function. However, unlike Izuku, who is only going to keep an eye out for Katsuki, he smirks, mischief and chaos in his eyes, and throws his arm over Katsuki, snorting, “I can't wait.”
Katsuki has a bloodthirsty smile stretched across his lips, one that told Izuku everything he needed to know: Katsuki was planning to get hammered.
Izuku feels like that says everything.
It was only after Izuku got home, reading the note his mom left on the kitchen counter telling him that she had gone to work and won't be back until late, that he realizes Katsuki never answered him if there was going to be any more illegal actives at the party than underaged drinking.
Izuku sighs. He could already feel the headache forming.
Unlike Katsuki, the remaining teens had never been to such an event before. Sure, they have been to parties—more than their fair share for being middle schoolers, at that—but this wasn't one of the regular parties Katsuki dragged them to. It was a little more fancy, a little more proper, and a lot more sketchy than the club whose access point was a quirk illusioned wall.
They were at the rich side of Mustafu, where all the houses were larger than the ones before them, trying to show off and establish a socio-economic dominance. A social standing that their neighborhood would've never stood a chance to rank even if they all scrounged their money together. Besides Katsuki’s niche neighborhood, Izuku guesses, because for all his family's fame, the Bakugous were still a wild mystery, an enigma, to Izuku and the general public. Izuku is even willing to bet that the government doesn't know either—the hidden 8th wonder of the world. They truly are a bizarre and perplexing family, but Izuku opts to think about that more later.
The party was held at the very last mansion that was located, unsurprisingly, on top of a hill. And a mansion it was, with its rows upon rows of glossy windows, neatly trimmed bushes paired with a mowed lawn, and a large, domineering gate encompassed by stone walls.
Katsuki walked up to the entrance like he had been there a thousand times before, and flashed the invitation at the tiny screen embedded into the stone of the pillar creating the fence and holding the gate. A green light flashed, and the barrier unlocked, opening automatically for the gang of wayward teens to enter.
Pop and club music filtered through the grand doorway of the house, leaving no room for doubt that a party was going on inside. The door swings open like the gateway to Hell, and a man who could be anywhere from his early-twenties to mid-thirties busts out, a glass of liquor in hand, swaying back and forth. “Katsuki!” The stranger shouts, mouth stretched wide in a drunken smile. “You made it!”
He’s flashy, and exposes more skin than Izuku is comfortable with, but the others don’t even bat an eye, used to the eccentric people Katsuki introduces them to. A gaudy printed shirt, unbuttoned all the way down, leaving no imagination for what the other's body looks like, paired with tight black jeans. All he needs is a feathered coat, Izuku remarks in his mind, looking at who he assumes is the host in disgust and caution.
The stranger boasts: “So glad the rest of you could make it, as well!” His eye flit over to Katsuki, his smile stretching. “Its been for-fucking-ever, Candy.”
Casually, still talking, Katsuki unbuttons his shirt a little lower, and Izuku eyes his friend in suspicion. “Teiko, you know I could never say no to a good party.”
Izuku is one hundred percent certain that the stranger—Teiko, as he had just been informed—didn’t hear a word Katsuki said, too busy staring at the blonds chest.
This is why Izuku caters to Katsukis antics, because without him, Katsuki is without a leash, an inhibitionless beast free to roam and who knows what shenanigans and secrets about their childhood he would expose. Just the thought of some of his secrets being leaked and getting to his mom makes his blood run cold.
Buzzing, Dehisa bounces up to the front of the group, hanging off Katsuki, which rewards him with a narrowed eye look from Teiko, and says, full of energy, “Thanks for having us; I can already hear the drinks callin’ my name!”
“Of course!” Teiko says back to normal, pushing the door open wider, giving the five a way in. He wraps his arm around Katsuki, pulling him away from Dehisa, and winks, carrying on, “Any friends of Katsukis are friends of mine.”
Dehisa and Tsubasa walk in, attempting to find the kitchen, while Izuku and Kariage linger, waiting for Katsuki.
“Let's get this party started!” Katsuki hollers, sparks jumping off the palms of his hands. Walking in tandem, the Teiko-Katsuki pair enter the booming mansion. Teiko throws a glance over his shoulder at Izuku and smirks, a slimy grin on his face. Izuku narrows his eyes, reaching for him to pull Katsuki back, but Kariage puts a hand on his wrist, effectively stopping Izuku.
“Trust Katsuki,” Kariage says, letting go of Izuku's hand and shoving his own in his pocket, grabbing his pack of cigarettes. “He might act like a himbo, but he knows how to handle perverted shitheads like that.”
Izuku stares off into the house, at the crowd of people and all the mysteries it holds, and sighs. “I know. I'm just worried he's gonna cause trouble for us.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, then moves to rub the crease between his brows. “I don't want to have to explain to mom why I have a drunk Kachaan with me after coming home so late.”
Kariage barks a laugh, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. “Whatever Deku,” he chuckles, taking a final drag, savoring the burn in his lungs, and drops the bud, stamping out the burning embers. “Now let's go inside before we miss the dumbasses being idiots.”
“You know,” Dehisa starts, cheeks slightly flushed from one to many experimental shots that the other party goers cheered him on for. “---sometimes I think life would be better if I was a rat.”
The group was congregated in one of the many sitting rooms. This one in particular was decorated with plush, grey couches with odd stains and a long, cluttered glass table sticky with alcohol. Katsuki, despite Izuku's best attempt at keeping an eye on him, was nowhere to be seen, much to Izuku's chagrin.
"Trust me," Kariage says, putting his hand on Dehisas shoulder, a serious look dead set on his face. "You don't wanna live as a rat."
He nods his head then, as if agreeing with himself, and takes a picture of Dehisa's startled face, his camera light flashing brightly—not unlike the colorful lights that pulsed throughout the space—in the other's eyes. Turning back to his phone, texting Katsuki, Kariage leaves Dehisa in a confused stupor, who sputters, unable to form a coherent sentence.
Izuku could see the loading symbol in front of Dehisa as his brain rebooted like an old computer system's outdated software. Seconds tick by, and Dehisa continues to star unabashedly at Kariage; then, as if the last bits of data finally downloaded, the loading bar finally hitting a hundred percent, his eyes became crazed as he jumped out of his seat, musing his hair, until he finally landed on Tsubasa, shaking the other, and screaming, "What does that even mean?!"
Like the asshole all members of the group were, Tsubasa mimics Kariage, resting his hand on Dehisas shoulder, shaking his head. "You really don't want to live as a rat, Dee, you just don't."
Dehisa screams, pulling his hair, frustrated and drunk. He downs the remaining liquid in his cup, stomping away as he leaves the group, wandering to the other living room where the majority of people were dancing, shouting behind him, "You guys suck!”
Izuku, from the corner of his eye, spots Kariage and Tsubasa fist-bumping, large grins on their faces. Curiosity got the better of him, however, as Izuku asked, turning to the duo, “What did you guys mean, anyway?”
Their grins only got wider.
"You're cute." A man in a tight, white button up flirts, hand lightly touching the hand Izuku has resting on the counter. Smoke,from an undoubtedly exorbitant cigar, seeps past his teeth.
Izuku, along with Kariage, who seemed to be following him for unknown reasons, had managed to find Katsuki again at the home bar. The three of them took seats at the counter, with a few female attendees who wore low cut, short dresses paired with red lips, surrounding both Kariage and Katsuki. Deshia and Tsubasa were with them earlier, but had found their oasis was within the Kitchen after having explored the rest of the mansion.
Izuku's face becomes a sea of red. His freckles pop out like a weather buoy in the ocean, and he stutters without forming a single comprehensive word, more flustered than the time he realized his fly was down during an in class presentation on the use of quirks in modern society.
Katsuki pulls Izuku to his chest, his other hand housing a dark, twenty-five year whiskey and an exuberant lady with a short black dress with open crosses from the end of her dress to her hips, hugging and extenuating her every curve. "He's mine, shithead,” Katsuki glares, voice firm even within his inebriated state. “We're together." Then, as an afterthought, he smirks, pulling Izuku even closer to himself, the girl on his arm giggling, "He's the bottom.”
Kariage barks, choking on his own choice of liquor, and before he can compose himself, he catches a glimpse of the rejected man's face, and spits, laughing harder. “The first time Izuku gets hit on,” he wheezes, watching as the other guy hurriedly scurries away, “is by a dude! Classic.”
“Kari,” Katsuki calls, features set and straight. “Don't be rude. The first person to hit on him was that elderly lady under the bridge.”
“A–” Izuku stutters, pushing Katsuki away and curling into a ball on his stool, shoulders hiked. His ears, which stick out from his curls, are inflamed. “---why do you always have to remember everything!?”
They've been at the party for over five hours now, and Izuku had failed his self-designated job on watching Katsuki. It's not until he hears Katsuki screaming, however, did he realize just how long he had left Katsuki to his own devices.
"You coward!" Katsuki screams, being held back by Teiko and another guy—shirtless---who looked like he could beat Izuku up without even trying. Izuku really, really needs to update his journal and start keeping better notes on the people around Katsuki because he is certain that one day, he will be beaten up by one of Katsukis associates without warning if he doesn't have the proper information ready. "You yellow-bellied candy-ass! It's not like it was just gonna be you; it was a two-way street, you chickenshit asshole!"
This, while not unsurprising to Izuku, isn't what he expected Katsuki to be like after leaving him unsupervised for so long. For one, he expected some blood, maybe a new shirt, possibly some random star-shaped sunglasses, but not him being three sheets to the wind. Izuku knew Katsuki wanted to drink till his content, but his childhood friend normally paces himself a little more, and never, never gets so drunk he loses control. He hardly, in all the times they've gone out, gotten so drunk. Izuku can count on one hand the amount of times he's seen Katsuki this drunk, and it makes him slightly concerned and a helluva lot annoyed, because he always acts a certain way when he's reaching his limit.
As if a lever had been switched in his brain, Katsukis head snaps towards him, eyes wide and lit up, honed in on Izuku, who is ten feet away in the bustling crowd of drunk and high dancing partygoers. It was like he had a homing signal for Izuku whenevwer he got drunk, an alarm going off in his brain whenever Izuku was around. A K-9 who is only able to find their owner. Or is Izuku a squirrel? Either way, Katsukis full, drunken attention is locked on Izuku and he is not mentally prepared for it.
Izuku's headache from earlier makes its presence known, and he sighs.
"Izu!" Katsuki calls, almost a whine, really, and makes grabby hands for him, trying to shake off the ones who hold and surround him. "Come here!"
Izuku doesn't have the time to debate if he should turn around and pretend like he didn't notice the other because one moment he had a path to flee and the next he was getting pushed from behind—no doubt Kariage, who was the only one left in the group who stuck around him to, "keep an eye on the youngest. Katsukis orders”, as he had later learned---and comes face to face with Katsuki, who manages to break free of his captors and latches himself onto Izuku like a parasite.
"Izu, you don't think I'm in the wrong, right? I'm not crazy?” Katsuki asks, stuck to Izuku's back, wrapping his arms around his prisoner's abdomen tighter. Teiko and the shirtless stranger watch the scene before them with an amused, and almost jealous (at least for Teiko) tint in their eyes. “Do you still love me?"
"And—" Kariage drags out, coming from who knows where with a cigar lit that he did not previously have nestled between his newly bruised fingers. Izuku glares at him harshly, trying to manifest a quirk that could kill the other with his eyes, and Kariage continues, ignoring him."---he's plastered.
“Kacchan,” Izuku groans, body placid in the other's arms. “Why are you only nice to me when you're drunk?” He knows better than anyone that he should continue to let Katsuki hang off him like a koala when he gets like this, lest he wreck havoc or call Izuku's mom in his endeavor of getting to Izuku in his inebriated state. He manages to get one arm out of Katsukis hold, and he uses it to pat Katsukis head, ruffling his peaks of soft blond hair, mumbling words he would never believe after growing up with Katsuki his whole life, “I love you too. I'm sure it was all just a misunderstanding.”
“Bullshit” Kariage coughs into the top of his fist, and gives Izuku his best mimicry of oblivious innocence he can muster when Izuku sneers in his direction. The end of his cigar touches his lips, and he takes a deep drag, the smoke escaping his mouth as he smirks, turning to Katsuki. “So,” he begins, eyes squinted, a lit with mirth, “What did you do, Kats?”
The blond in question nuzzles his face into Izuku's neck—who has an exasperated expression on his face, looking all the world like he wants to leave—and pouts. “Some guy tried to take my spot at the pool table, so I tried making a deal. Not my fault that that fucker is squeamish to blood.”
Teiko moves closer to the blond, hovering over the duo, hands itching at his side. A rounded glass of what Izuku was sure was shōchū sat lonely on the pool table, and the flamboyant host took three large gulps before it was empty, no sign of drunkenness on his face, and tossed his arm over the both of them, saying, “Cherry here was just playing, he meant no harm.”
Sure, Izuku thought, rolling his eyes, ‘cause Kacchan never means any harm.
It seemed like Izuku and Kariage were on the same page, as he commented, a smirk stretched across his lips, “I bet.”
The arms around Izuku tighten, and Katsuki mumbles, “It's not torture if it's mutual, right?” He lifts his gaze to Kariage, the reds of his eyes a thin circle surrounding his dilated pupils, and looking all the world like a puppy, if not for the small, sharp grin he couldn't hide. “I was willing to chop my finger off too, he was just a sore loser who failed to complete his end of the bargain.”
The large, shirtless man from earlier, who Izuku has still yet to identify, whispered, hauntedly, as if he were still coming to terms with what he watched, like a witness of a crime scene having lost their sanity at the brutality they caught, “He's a psycho. A complete nut job. I could see his bone.”
Izuku had mistook the stranger for another weirdo, another person who grew up without learning proper morals and laws, a person who did what they wanted and laughed whenever because they didn't care, but it seemed like he was mistaken, as the man's horror was an unexpectedly normal reaction from anyone who wasn't born around this side of Musutafu. He should warn the stranger to run now before he is completely corrupted, Izuku thinks, staring at the man in a new light, like one would stare at a circus attraction.
“Lighten up!” Kariage cheers, slapping his hand on the fearful stranger's back. “Our Katsukis got a screwloose, sure, but what can we do besides cherish it and stroke the flames?”
Katsuki cheers at that, and goes to move towards Kairage, but gets intercepted by Teiko, who produces a brand new drink out of nowhere and hands it to Katsuki instead, circling his arm around the drunken blonds waist. “My Candy here is a special breed. A danger and life of a party, if you will.” His eyes rake down the younger body, and a shiver creeps down Izuku's spine at the blatant display of interest he has for Katsuki. Oblivious to Izuku's turmoil, Teiko continues, winking, “He's a looker too.”
The music is deafening and the air becomes stagnant at the awkwardness and tension surrounding the group. The stranger, who Izuku believes is the only mildly sane person, looks simultaneously ready to crawl out of his skin and punch the living daylights out of the host.
The stranger's face twists the longer he watches Teiko—at how possessive he holds Katsukis waist and how demeaning he talks. His fist curls into a winded ball, his veins popping at the strength of his grip, and before Izuku can formulate what to do, on how he could convince Katsuki to leave without offending anyone, the shirtless partygoer snatches Katsukis drink, smashes it on the floor, and throws a punch with a power that could rival All Mights at the hosts face.
Blood gushes from Teikos nose, but he's knocked cold from the wild and sudden swing. His body falls to the floor like a sack of potatoes, crashing in a heap of scraggly limbs and spilt beer. A scream pierces through the music, a high and ear-splitting sound, and everyone turns to their makeshift group surrounding a body that comes across as a murder scene and scatters.
Kariage gives the stranger a nod of approval, eyes sly. The expensive cigar, one which he will probably never have again, lest he steal it, burns his lungs lovingly as he takes his final, blissful drag, sneering at the man at his feet. He crouches down, looming over the cold figure, and snuffs it out on Teikos palm, twisting it a few times for good measure, basking in the way he sees the unconscious forms' brows furrow. “Bastard,” he spits.
The added violence did the group no favors, as people, who Izuku deducted are friends of Teiko, chugged the last of their beers and started creeping towards them. The majority of the crowd, on the other hand, was stunned, and, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Izuku snatches Katsukis wrist and begins a sprint less balanced than a pirate with sea legs. They trip on their own feet countless times, but still stand, running from the concerned partygoers and the few high idiots who mustered up a faulty sense of justice.
“Let's get out of here!” Izuku bellowed over the raving music, high tailing it out of the house. The two squeeze through partygoers and people off their rockers, and at one point Izuku was almost certain he had lost Katsuki to a mixed group of lean men and women, but had managed to distract them by screaming “Duck!” and dragging Katsuki out to the freshly mowed, front lawn.
Izuku drops Katsukis wrist and falls to the ground, catching his breath. He had a cut on his arm that was slowly bleeding, and prays he doesn't get some kind of infection. His shoe was also gone, but he would make sure Katsuki reimbursed him by two hundred percent once he was clear minded.
Katsuki stumbles, tripping while standing upright, gravity going against him, and mumbles incoherently; but within his slew of negligible rambling, Izuku hears something that makes him stop dead in his tracks and turn around, his heart pounding and blood going cold at the same time.
Izuku whips his head left and right, and realizes, with muted horror, that he might have to go back into the mansion after just narrowly escaping its clutches. “Where's Dehisa and Tsubasa?!” He screams. With closer inspection, he realizes that Kariage was also gone, and it was just Izuku and an incompetent Katsuki.
“Why am I the one who always has to clean up everyone's mess?! I knew I shouldn't have come.” Izuku moans, digging a moat with all his pacing.
“Whose mess are you talking about?”
Izuku jumps, tripping in his self-created ditch and making a further fool out of himself by falling on his ass. “Wh–,” Izuku stutters, looking bewilderedly upon the group of misfit teens before him. “What are you guys doing here?! I thought you guys were lost.”
“It's all thanks to me,” Kariage boasts, hand on his chest. His eyes scan the teen, a smirk finding its place on his face when he spots Izuku's wet socked foot. “You're an idiot,” He avowed, “so I picked up the slack since Katsukis unavailable.”
Tsubasa was oddly jittery besides Kairage, and as Kariage was about to add more, Tsubasa interjected, stressing, “We should go.” He had a drunk Dehisa hanging off his arm like Izuku held Katsuki prior, and he kept glancing back at the door to the mansion like it was about to implode.
“Ah, yeah,” Kariage agreed, ruffling his hair, “we should go. Like, right now.” He picks Katsuki up, grumbling about how useless he was and promising that he would take him home and starts to make a move down the winding path.
Izuku squinted at the suspicious duo, and, against his better judgment, he implored, “What's so urgent that we have to–.”
As if he jinxed the group, he never gets to finish his sentence, as the door opens to release a tide of angry men with various types of weapons and quirks, and, Izuku notes, various forms of injuries. “Get back here you fucker! I'll kill you!”
In response, Kariage sticks out his tongue. “Like Hell you will!”
They book it.
For the mod being drunk and with various types of drugs coursing through their bodies, they were decently fast, but this wasn't the first time their group had escaped an angry crowd, even with Katsuki and Dehisa as dead weight. Izuku was grateful for all of the two seconds that Kariage took Katsuki, that was, however, until he sacrificed him to the wolves by tripping him and calling behind him, “Better you than me, Deku! Hold ‘em off, will you?”
He knew damn well Izuku wouldn't be able to do anything to hold them off besides getting beaten up in their place. He scowled, and picked himself back up, muttering curses underneath his breath, planning on how to get the other back.
A greenish-yellowish hue bleeds into Japan's early morning blueing sky when Izuku finally makes it to his bedroom, flopping down on his bed.
His only pair of shoes has been reduced to one, and he has no clue how he'll be able to go to class in four hours without one of the teachers dress coding him, let alone sneaking past his mom without her knowing.
“God,” Izuku groans, “I hope morning never comes.”
He passes out as soon as his head touches his All Might themed pillow.
When Izuku wakes up, his mom knocking on his door after he failed to hear his alarm, he notices a brand new pair of pristine, red, quirkless-brand shoes on his windowsill with a limited edition set of All Might socks and his and Katsukis shared All Might gold-foil play card stuffed inside.
If Katsuki thought that was enough to repay him, Izuku thinks, opening his window and feeling the fresh breeze of Mustafus morning air on his exhausted body—then he was sorely mistaken.