Chapter Text
Classes were weird after the war. That’s one thing for sure. UA was rebuilt, safe. Classes resumed to whoever wanted to return, which was slim for a while. 1A had the most returns, surprisingly enough. Of course there were a few that couldn’t come back, fair enough, but a majority of the class returned. Out of the school’s population, 1A was the most scarred. Every student has some type of scarring or medical issue, the top students holding the most extreme cases. They’re often looked at with one of three looks.
-Fear
-Pity
-Admiration
Katsuki hates them all. Him months ago would’ve seen the fearful glances and respect and he would have felt proud. People respect him? Not just pissed at him? He would’ve sauntered through the hallways, feeling stronger than ever.
However, he hates it. He hates people looking at him, seeing his weakness. Those who fear him fear what he did during the war. They fear the power he had to take down the greatest villain of all time, save heroes and survive unlike some of the very highest of pro heroes. But he didn’t survive.
He hates pity. They see his scars and his medical issues and tired body, and they feel PITY. They feel pity and concern for him. He just wants them to mind their own business. He doesn’t want students and teachers coming to help him grab something when he fumbles with his bad arm.
Admiration, surprisingly, is the worst of them all. Their eyes gleam and mouths hang agape when he passes. It’s THE Katsuki Bakugou, amazing and strong and resilient. He used to be all those things. But right now? He doesn’t deserve their admiration. He doesn’t want to be looked at, gazed upon. A dead man doesn’t need admiration.
Is he dead? A heart is beating in his chest, lungs are pumping. He can see, for a most part. He can hear a bit. He can feel (can he?) and be a ?person? But does that make him alive?
“Hey bro!” A familiar voice calls to him from behind, cheery and recognizable. Katsuki would consider Eijiro as one of his… Well, friends. He’s matured enough since the war to be able to admit that, maybe not verbally but enough to note it in his mind. The red haired man runs up behind him and walks steadily at his side, not behind him or in front of him. Katsuki hates that everyone knows him so well.
The flash of red hair, the roots a little overgrown with his contrasting black hair, matches the bright smile on the third year’s face.
“What do you want?” Katsuki snaps back, though his voice holds more than half the amount of conviction it used to have when he was a first year in UA. Now it’s simply blunt and snarly, rather than loud and rude.
“Just checking in!” Eijiro chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “And I wanted someone to walk to class with, just like the good old days right?”
“Guess so.” Katsuki shrugs, hearing a heartbeat in his ears. Did he take his meds this morning? It’s hard to remember at times. He remembers getting up, slugging out of bed after a long night of struggling to sleep. He brushed his teeth, he ate something in his sluggish morning delirium.
“You good, Bakubro?”
“Yeah, perfect.” Katsuki grumbles, having to remind himself that if he passes out during training (it has happened) that no one will know what happens. If his blood pressure drops… fuck. Katsuki sighs, crossing his arms, holding his bad arm with his good one. “I just can’t remember if I took my medication this morning or not.”
“Oh dang it,” Eijiro’s face tightens, eyes wide and filled with concern. The boy always wore his emotions on his sleeve, at least most of them. Katsuki knows the boy keeps his insecurity closer to his chest, but he can see it at times. “Do you need to go to the dorms and grab them? I can tell Mr. Aizawa that you’ll be late, he’d understan-”
“It’s fine. I probably took them.” Katsuki cuts him off.
“Okay then.” Eijiro eyes him weirdly. Eyes. Stupid eyes. “Are you sure? I don’t think it’s all that safe to risk it.”
“It’s also not safe to double up on meds.” Katsuki combats him, tightening his grip on his arm.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
This damn heart needs to shut the fuck up before Katsuki blows, metaphorically. His teeth grit and jaw tightens. Thump. Thump. Thump.
“True…” Eijiro looks to the floor as they walk, the halls busy with students. The First Years are the worst when it comes to the looks. They weren’t here when Katsuki was just a student, they aren’t used to the private boy with temperamental issues. They just know what they know from rumors and the news. They’re not easy to ignore, but Katsuki tries his best. “Tell me if anything feels off, alright? And make sure to eat well at lunch, wash your hands too. Don’t go near anyone who’s sick, should we get one of those medical masks?”
“Kirishima.” Katsuki uses his rude little nicknames for his friends, though they always call them endearing for some reason, rarely nowadays. He uses their real names more often, but whenever things get lightheaded again he’ll slip out a small little nickname here and there. Eijiro halts his rambling, a concerned expression on his face. “I’ll be okay. It’s one day.”
“At least be careful, okay?”
“Fine.” Katsuki huffs, turning into the classroom abruptly and taking his seat. His leg bounces lightly in front of him, waiting for Mr. Aizawa to begin class. He can feel his classmates' eyes on him, both brief glances and the extended stares. They’re not like the many other students of UA, their gazes or more… pitiful. Concerned. Everyone knows he died, everyone knows what Edgeshot did for him. Do they blame him? Do they cry for him? Did they mourn?
Class goes on, notes are taken and lessons taught. Mr. Aizawa does what he does, he teaches and he asks questions. Katsuki had come to love how interactive the classes are. Since he can’t physically train as much he’s been honing his hero mind, and boy does it really make him think at times. He appreciates the mental side of heroism more than he did before his physical limitations came around.
“Get into small groups and work on the worksheet I just passed out. It’s due at the end of class.” Mr. Aizawa instructs, sitting in his chair carefully with his prosthetic leg. He pulls out a pile of papers from the other day to grade, trusting his 3rd years will work on the assignments. He’s taught these kids for years, he went to war with these kids. They can work responsibly on a worksheet (can they?)
Katsuki doesn’t even have to stand up to grab a group before two chairs slide up in front and to the side of his desk. Eijiro, he isn’t even fazed, and Kaminari. He sees Ashido dragging her chair over as well. “Small group” can have many definitions, and for this group it means four to five people. To other students, that may mean two to three people.
“Bakugou, man! You haven’t started the worksheet yet?” Kaminari gasps, staring at Katusuki’s empty paper. Katsuki has a habit of starting the paper the minute it’s handed to him, so when his classmates come to work on it with him he’s already halfway done or at least started. All he’s done this time is put his name on it. He’s feeling… off.
“Wow. He hasn’t?” Ashido raises a brow, yellow and black eyes glances between Katsuki and his worksheet. “Are you doing alright, Dynamite?”
“I’m fine. I was just waiting for you losers to come over to start.” Katsuki grumbles, shooting out his quick lie. He’s been getting better at lying, which kind of scares him. “Let’s not waste any time.”
The group gives each other strange glances, but begins to work anyway. It’s a pretty simple worksheet, just moral decisions and reasoning in an interactive format where you rate a situation on a scale of 1-10 and choose an option as to what to do in this scenario. Every choice has a consequence that is detailed at the back of the page, and you’re not meant to look at the back until after you’ve finished the front. You have to write your reasoning below the scenario after you rate it.
Katsuki diverts his eyes to the first question, mainly his good eye going through to read it. He still sometimes struggles to adjust to his weakened hearing and damaged eyesight, but he’s made do for the most part. The hearing aids in his ears help, courtesy of UA and their awesome tech program!
-In this scenario you are in the midst of an intense battle with a villain who’s quirk is taking a toll on the surrounding area. Buildings falling apart, cars smashed, and other disasters erupting. You cannot get too close to the villain due to their quirk, but delaying ending the battle only furthers the damages done on the city and increases likelihood of civilian injury. What do you-
Katsuki’s vision blurs mid sentence, the words fading into the white paper behind them and becoming a mess of ink. His head pounds with a headache, a slight sense of nausea in his stomach.
“What did you guys put for question one?” Eijiro asks the group, eyes turning up from his paper. Katsuki can make out the faint pen marks on his paper, but can’t tell what was circled or written. Eijiro’s face is foggy and smudged, Katsuki can’t focus on his features. What the fuck?
Yeah he definitely forgot to take his meds.
“I got C: Risk getting closer to defeat the villain before anyone else gets hurt.” Kaminari says with a cheer. Katsuki turns his eyes to look at the yellow haired spark, but his face is also blurry. His head feels light. Fuck x2.
“Really? I got A: Use a long ranged attack and continue the battle.” Ashido debates. Friendly discussion on what they all would do in battle is always fun, but Katsuki doesn’t have the ability to really interject this time.
“I chose B: Call for back-up and focus on evacuation over fighting.” Eijiro gives his answer next, turning to Katsuki to ask what he got. While Katsuki can’t exactly see his face clearly right now, he can practically FEEL the worry emitting from him. “Bakubro? Are you alright?”
“Yeah, you usually have something to say by now.” Ashido comments, glancing down at his paper. “You haven’t answered the question yet.”
“I’m fine. Just thinking.” Katsuki growls, grabbing his pen and trying to force his vision to see one of the letters. He, reluctantly, just decides to circle the first one. “I got the same as Pinkie.”
“Why?” Eijiro immediately blurts out, he can feel his eyes burning into his soul.
“Uh- It works best with my quirk and getting the villain tamed before they can do anything harmful is the best idea. Waiting will only increase the uh- chances of someone getting hurt.” Katsuki rambles out, his mind blanking a few times. He scratches his hair a bit, pushing the crazy poof out of his face but it bounces right back into place.
“Makes sense.” Kaminari shrugs, grabbing his pink crayola pencil, for some reason, and moves onto the next question. He’s always been the least observant, but Katsuki isn’t oblivious to the glances Kaminari gives him. Ashido follows suit, more hesitantly, and Eijiro takes the longest to turn his gaze from Katsuki and back onto his paper.
Katsuki internally groans and tries to read question two, fully forgoing the whole Reasoning section of the questions for now since he doesn’t trust himself to write steadily currently.
-In this scenario you are on patrol, thirty minutes before your shift ends. Night patrol, you are tired. There is a **** attack. *** civilians *** dang**. Other *** there. Do y*** take…? What ****-
*** and *** go *** agency.
***ght. **k. Battle ******
C** back***
**ide f** th** tim**b**ing and **an **or **thing ****** *** ** **
Katsuki rubs his eyes, trying to read the question again but he can only catch a few words throughout the sentences. He tries to piece it together. He’s a tired hero and there’s some type of attack where civilians are in danger. He either goes back to his agency, fights, calls back up, or… something? Katsuki lazily circles option B.
Thump. Thump thump. Thump.
A heartbeat pulsates in his eardrums, he feels so lightheaded and his breathing borders on shallow.
“Have we all finished?” Eijiro asks, looking up from his furious scribbling on the page. Everyone seems to have finished or nearly finished writing their Reasoning for this question, except Katsuki but he’s already decided he’s done with this bullshit for the time being. He’ll explain when his dizziness passes.
“Yup!”
“Yeah.”
Katsuki nods alongside Ashido’s and Kaminari’s confirmations.
“Who wants to go first? Bakubro?” Katsuki knows what Eijiro is doing. He’s testing him, he’s WATCHING him.
“B.” Katsuki bluntly says, fiddling with his pencil. “I’m fighting.”
“Really?” Eijiro’s face tightens. “Okay… I got D.”
“Same.”
“Same.”
Fuck what was D? Katsuki was able to read the least from that one. He glances at the paper and attempts to read it again, but his vision sways and he goes to hold his head up with his hand for a moment. Fuck. His blood pressure is really dropping right now.
A pit grows in his stomach, he feels sick. What is going on? Well he knows what’s going on, but fuck!
“Bakubro?” Eijiro’s voice cuts in, his hand appearing in front of him on the desk. His friends do that a lot. They know he isn’t the biggest fan of being touched so they like to offer comfort, on the rare occasions that they think he might need comfort, and that comfort often comes in the form of simply showing their presence through putting a body part in his vision.
“Bro he doesn’t look good.” Kaminari whispers.
“Should we-”
“Go get Mr. Aizawa.” Eijiro’s voice is surprisingly demanding. Katsuki doesn’t hear him being that serious often. He wants to protest, but he doesn't have the energy nor ability to. It also isn’t a good idea, he feels like he could faint at any moment. “Bakugou? Are you alright? Is it…”
“Shut up.” Katsuki murmurs, feeling his hands clam up with his sweat. In. Out. Thump. Thump. Thump. “Oh my fuck stop.”
Katsuki buries his head in his hands, leaning onto his desk. He can hear, faintly, Kaminari speaking with Aizawa over at his desk, but he doesn’t pay attention. It feels like all he can hear right now is the heart beating in his ears and the dizzying feeling of his blood pressure dropping.
“Bakugou?” Mr. Aizawa’s voice speaks from beside him, to the left and a little down. When did he get over here? Why hadn’t he heard his footsteps? Katsuki reaches and touches his hearing aids. Still there. What’s going on again? “Can you tell me what’s going on, kid?”
“He might’ve forgotten to take his medication, Sensei.” Eijiro informs him. Thank fuck, Katsuki doesn’t have the capacity right now to explain that. “Why is he… I don’t know? What’s wrong with him?”
“I’m going to take Bakugou here to the nurses office. Iida! Watch the class.” Aizawa’s hands are gentle as he carefully grabs Katsuki by the arms and helps him to his feet, he’s thankful for the man’s grip on him because the moment he stands up he sways and nearly stumbles onto his ass.
He can feel everyone in class watching him as he is borderline carried from the classroom, but he couldn’t care less at the moment. The door slams behind the two, Aizawa is mumbling under his breath.
“Was Kirishima telling the truth? You forgot to take your medication?”
“I don’t know.” Katsuki sighs. “Probably?”
“That’s not a good answer.” Aizawa shifts to help hold Katsuki up better. “Why didn’t you say something earlier? Before almost collapsing?”
“I didn’t almost collapse.”
“Sure. Now answer my question, kid.”
Katsuki fumbles in his mind to find an answer. It’s an easy answer, an answer he kind of fully explained in his stupid fucking journal last night. He doesn’t want to fully come to terms with his new life, his new body and “existence”. He isn’t alive.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not weak for having a medical issue, especially after the bravery you showed last year. No one thinks you’re weak.” It’s like Aizawa can see right through him, he could always see right through him. Katsuki hates it, but it does make things a little easier. He doesn’t have to explain shit since Aizawa always seems to know what’s going on to a certain extent.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
He feels the cold air of the nurses office hit his face. Why is it always so damn cold in here???
“Well?” Ms. Shuzenji, aka Recovery Girl, calls from her desk, rolling in on her wheeled chair. “Ah. Mr. Bakugou, back again I see? It isn’t check-up time. What is it?”
“Bakugou here forgot to take his medications today, I think his blood pressure is low.” Mr. Aizawa guides Katsuki to sit on one of the medical chairs. He’s sat in this same chair countless times since the war, Ms. Shuzenji holding a stethoscope against his chest or a pulse oximeter on his finger. He’s actually partially required to carry one in his hero costume now, Recovery Girl’s orders.
“Uh oh. What did I tell you about taking your medication?!” Recovery Girl huffs, scooting over with her Sphygmomanometer in tow.
“To take it.” Katsuki grumbles, leaning back against the chair. The room spins ferociously.
“Are you feeling any dizziness or lightheadedness?”
“Yes.”
“Fatigue?”
“Yes.”
“Confusion or delirium?”
“...yes.”
“Blurry vision?”
“More than normal? Yes.”
Recovery Girl sighs, hooking up her blood pressure machine and wrapping the fabric part around Katsuki’s arm. She begins to pump it, staring at the little box with blinking lights that Katsuki can’t exactly read the numbers on from here.
“Chest pain?”
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Swoosh.
Thump.
“A little I guess.”
Recovery Girl stares at the screen for a little while longer, making notes on her little pad thingy. “Stage I Hypertension. 132 mm. I have extra bottles of your medication in my office for situations like this. Let me go grab it.”
The little old lady stands up and walks to the back of the room to retrieve the medication. Katsuki groans. He won’t be getting off easy for this, his teachers and doctors won’t be turning a blind eye or allowing him to simply take his meds and walk away. Fuck this!!! He really needs to remember to take his medication.
He can feel Aizawa’s eyes burning into the side of his skull. He can hear Edgeshot beating in his chest. He can see the old hag bringing him his damn medication that he has to take now because he fucking died!
“Here.” Recovery Girl hands him four pills, two of his immunity ones and two blood pressure, along with a glass of water. “Have you eaten recently?”
“I had breakfast an hour ago.”
“Considering you forgot to take your medication, I have to ask, what is it you had for breakfast?” Mr. Aizawa is the one interrogating him this time. He doesn’t miss the glare that Katsuki sends him with his piercing red eyes. “I know you, Bakugou.”
“Too fucking well apparently.” Katsuki retreats his glare. “I had uh- some toast I believe.”
“That’ll have to do. Try and have some more to eat for lunch, Bakugou. You need energy.” Mr. Aizawa scolds. Katsuki takes the bottle of water and medication, swallowing it with ease. He’s used to taking pills at this point, he’s just grateful that it’s only four. Right after the war he had MANY more he had to take just to not fall apart or get an instant infection.
“Alright, off to your dorm that you go.”
“Dorm?” Katsuki knew this was going to happen, but he still couldn’t help but react anyway. As much as he doesn’t feel up to being in class or training, he also doesn’t want to admit defeat and spend the rest of his day lounging like a weakling.
“You know what I mean.” Aizawa crosses his arms over his chest sternly.
Katsuki snarls, pinching the bridge of his nose as his headache slowly alleviates, but not quickly enough. Katsuki may be stubborn as hell, but he knows his teacher is stubborn enough to combat him. “Could yo-”
“Have your assignments sent to you along with a full report of the training exercises and results of the day? Of course.” Aizawa really does know him.
“Thanks.” Katsuki mumbles. He’s been saying that more. Is that a good thing?
“Do you need help getting back to your dorm?”
“No.”
Aizawa also knows when not to push Katsuki further, even if he disagrees with the boy. The two have made massive progress over the years. He still remembers the temperamental, angry boy with a need to validate his self worth that walked into his classroom as a first year. Now he looks down on a war hardened boy, still struggling but more open to help. Shota can tell that the boy hates it, it’s not hard to spot. It’s in the way he waits too long to admit when something is wrong and in the way he averts eye contact whenever something medical arises. It’s in the way he shouts when people stare too long and in the way he gets agitated whenever he can’t hear someone say something to him. He’s come a long way, but he’s got further to go. Healing takes time, but accepting it takes longer. Izuku not coming back…? Shota knows it definitely doesn’t help his biggest problem child in the slightest. The two were a fiery force that couldn’t be separated.
“Okay then. Be careful and don’t cause trouble. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”
Katsuki can feel the two adults’ eyes on him as rises to his feet and leaves the room, trying his hardest not to obviously sway. A sense of relief washes over him when he finally is out of their sight, his hand trailing the wall as he walks in the general direction of the nearest exit towards the dormitory. His mind lulls over the day and his mistakes, but the sound of the heart beating in his ears overcomes much coherent thought by the time he reaches the common room.
No one is there, as to be expected since they’re all supposed to be in class right now. His “friends” will likely be pounding on his dorm room door the minute classes are over, he’ll have to enjoy the quiet while it lasts. Does he even like the quiet? It makes his mind wander.
Nothing feels more lonely than ever walking into his dorm, silence surrounding him. He can’t even hear the usual faint sounds of one of his idiot classmates making a mess in the kitchen or playing music a little too loud down the hall. Sounds that he always proclaims annoys him, but seeing as he doesn’t have them right now they’ve become more of a comfort. The comfort of knowing someone is near, knowing he is alive.
Katsuki slams his bedroom door, sliding down against it and onto the floor. Something comes over him. Dread.
It’s the same dread that lingers in the shadows of his room and in the face of the All Might poster on his wall. It’s the dread that pools in his heart whenever his eyes catch a glimpse of the photo of him and Izuku he keeps on his shelf. The dread that he feels whenever someone walks up behind him silently or grabs him a little too quickly. Dread when he can’t win. Dread when he needs a break. Dread.
It’s the dread that matches the rhythm of the heart that keeps his physical body alive.
Before Katsuki knows it, his mind is racing and the heart is thumping louder. His chest constricts with every breath. Is this his blood pressure, or a panic attack? He hates that he can’t tell nowadays. Is there where he finally succumbs back to death, or is he succumbing to weakness?
“Fuck.” Katsuki curses for what must be the hundredth time this day, trying to force his breathing to get back into his control. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. What was that thing Eijiro said? “Breath in, count. Breath out. Count.”
“1.” Katsuki stammers, pulling in a large gasp of hair with his knees closing in to press closer to his chest. “2.”
Katsuki continues, trying to ground himself again. It’s a difficult task since the panic makes the thumping louder, and the thumping makes the panic worse. A continuous cycle. Eventually, he manages to get calm enough to see and think straight(ish) again.
He pulls himself to his feet, stumbling over to his desk and slumping down into his chair. He doesn’t have anything to do until his school work is delivered, and boy does that hurt him. His medication sits at the edge of his desk, the orange bottles covered in stickers and marker doodles made from Ashido and Kaminari when they were chilling in his room a while back. They thought the look of the orange and that white strip of paper with words you can’t pronounce was a little sad, so they got to work to bedazzle the bottles. Katsuki acted annoyed, but it honestly made the corners of his mouth turn up. They were right. It makes it less sad.
He can’t believe he was stupid enough to forget to take them today. He’s really screwed himself. He just wanted a normal day.
No day has been normal since the war.
Katsuki’s eyes catch a glimpse of his notebook laid face down on his desk, his chewed and demolished pencil rolled a few inches away. It’s tempting.
With a groan, Katsuki aggressively grabs the pencil and slams the notebook up, flipping a few pages in. Is this really what he’s going to do right now?
Maybe it’s the best time for it.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Fuck it.
●I can hear Edgeshot in my chest, in my ears, and in my head. I don’t hear his voice, I hear the final remnants of him. Everytime the heart in my body beats I know it’s HIM. I hate it. I hate the sound of it because I know it isn’t the sound I’m supposed to hear. Before I died, my heart was normal. I didn’t think about the sound of it, I didn’t lull over the way it felt in my chest. I guess the beat itself isn’t much different now, not as steady, but it’s still a heart just the same. But I know it’s different.●
●Sometimes things feel the same as they did when I got kidnapped. Everyone knows something about me that haunts me at night. Back then it was the fact that I had ended All Might, my hero, but now? It’s my death. Everyone knows I died, it’s kind of the biggest fact about me other than my defeat of AFO. Back then I was angry, I was guilty. I had been too weak to save myself from being kidnapped, and everyone knew it. To me, it didn’t matter that they only ever looked at me with concern and relief. I had to let myself feel that●
●But now it’s a different thing. Everyone looks at me the same, I still feel the guilt of someone else’s downfall. It was also MY downfall that happened that day. I died just as I had killed All Might the day I got kidnapped. Except All Might survived, his heart didn’t stop. He was still a respectable hero. I died. I fully died. I didn’t even have a working heart. I didn’t have the chance of resuscitation. Yet I came back. Because another Pro Hero decided I deserved another chance to be alive, to be a hero.●
●Why am I deserving of that?●
●I wish I could speak to Edgeshot again. I wish I could feel more of him other than the Thumps in my chest. It haunts me.●
Katsuki loses track of him, his internal struggle guides his pencil. It’s like he’s not even writing, he’s not thinking. The Thumping disappears into the background, he finds paradise in pouring (his) heart out to the paper.
Time flies by quicker than he would’ve expected, body exhausted but mind reeling. He didn’t notice the faint sounds of the common room bustling, doors opening and chatter. The fridge opens, bottles rattle and containers open. People laugh and someone falls on their ass. Katsuki’s already strained ears don’t pick it up, even with his hearing aids. It’s more of a focus thing, he needs to be paying attention to pick up noises at times.
He doesn’t snap out of his furious journalling into rapid hands pound upon his door, startling him from his writing. The notebook is slammed shut and shoved into a drawer, his pencil thrown into the corner of his desk. Holy fuck his breath had hitched in his throat.
A hero shouldn’t get this spooked.
“Bakubro?” Of course it’s Eijiro. Katsuki would bet that the rest of his friends are outside of that door as well. He leans back in his chair and sighs.
“Come on in, losers!”
That’s all the invitation they need before the door flies open and a group of students bustles in. Eijiro holds a folder of papers and Hanta holds a different folder, one of those beige ones while Eijiro holds a bright red folder. Katsuki can tell that the beige one is likely the training report, Aizawa is just the type of person to have boring ass folders.
Ashido and Kaminari stand beside the other two, concern laced in their soft smiles.
“How are we feeling, Dynamite?” Ashido’s the first one to speak, peering over Eijiro’s shoulder.
“Fine.” Katsuki spits, crossing his arms over his chest. There’s a slight ache in his bad arm, as there sometimes is at night or when stressed. “Is that the work I missed? Mr. Aizawa didn’t let me come back to class.”
“I agree with him.” Eijiro smiles, setting the folder, it’s clearly his own, onto Katsuki’s desk. Hanta tosses the beige one down as well. Katsuki takes note of how neither of them directly hold out the folders for him to grab, opting to set it down instead. He doesn’t know how to feel about that.
“Thanks for bringing my stuff or whatever.” Katsuki grumbles, feeling scrutinized under the watchful eyes of his friends.
“No problem, man. Do you want help catching up?” Eijiro offers.
“I’m sure I can manage.”
“Are y-”
“Hey guys! Let’s watch a movie or something.” Kaminari interrupts. Katsuki has to admit, Kaminari is really good at damage control. He may not be the most observant or intelligent boy in the world, but he’s certainly a good one. He has been the center of some arguments within the group, but he’s also prevented countless arguments. Kaminari sees when things get tense, especially when Katsuki gets uncomfortable. Eijiro may be good at spotting everything else about Katsuki, but Kaminari is best at knowing when Katsuki’s buttons are being pressed. He uses that to his advantage at times. “I’m bored!!!!”
“Jeez! No need to whine, Denks!” Hanta groans. “You’ve got a point. We should do something chill!”
“Yeah! Bakugou, can we use your laptop again?” Ashido bats her eyelashes at him. The tension in the air dissolves, but Katsuki can still feel Eijiro’s red eyes on him.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Nope!”
The night is peaceful. Katsuki’s friends cuddle up in his room, laughing at a random Pixar movie with cheesy dialogue and bright animation. As much as Katsuki feels irritated by their presence at times, he truly appreciates having company.
One thing about his friends:
He doesn’t want them to see that vulnerable side of him.
Maybe that’s why he started the journal.