Nightmares and Flare Guns || [KatsukixDabi]
Posted: Fri Jul 15, 2022 5:48 am
Katsuki Bakugou was... Complex. As a child, he'd been a spitfire of energy that didn't ever seem to fade before his home life had gotten worse. He'd been a bright kid with a promising future, excited for the life he had ahead of him. Then he'd grown up. His skin got thicker and he could take more from whatever 'punishments' his mother would dish out. As if he'd even call her that anymore. As he'd gotten older, she'd done more, the simple things you'd use to discipline a child becoming beatings before they began growing more frequent. All while his father stood by and did nothing. What kind of man did that? What kind of man stood by and watched his child gain the bruises he himself had to hide just months prior? Watched his son become the shell of himself just like he had?
He thought Masaru was pathetic, but he didn't blame him. Mitsuki had worn him down enough since they'd been married, and while he resented what he had to deal with, he could understand why she was allowed to continue on with him. What he did resent his father for, however, was what he did when the woman wasn't around. He didn't do anything to his son, thankfully, but the boy could still hear him and his 'boyfriend's through the thin walls while he tried to work on homework. Why not just fucking run at that point? He didn't get it. If the man was home at the same time as his wife, they never crossed paths without arguing. Well, was it really an argument if it was just Mitsuki screaming at him about whatever pissed her off that time? Though, the part he hated most was the shared quality with the man. Women had never been appealing to him in the slightest and he despised it. Despised that he was in any way similar to Masaru. Despised that his first crush as a kid had been another boy in his class.
In elementary and middle school he'd been a mixed result of things. He was aggressive and crass, but he did his work, never turning things in late or getting a grade below 85%. Though, that was primarily because he didn't want to know what he might have to deal with if his mother saw anything less. On the other hand, he was mean. He hung around a few kids that enabled him, being the strongest of them and knocking down someone who'd used to be his friend to gain some control. In his final year, though, he went too far. He'd ruined what little was left of his dwindling friendship with Izuku in his eyes and the group of guys he'd called his friends ditched him. It was too far. He didn't apologize, though, not wanting to be weak. He didn't think that being sorry was weak, but he didn't want anyone to see the things he suffered through at home that lead him to lashing out so much. He didn't want to admit he was too weak to keep himself controlled.
Starting high school, he already had a reputation that preceded him, something he did at least try to combat. Midoriya still tried to talk to him, something he despised at first, but he did eventually soften enough to at least coexist even if he was constantly fighting harder to best the other. He couldn't lose, even if he continued getting more bruises than training could have left him with. At least Recovery Girl could help rid him of them before they were moved into the dorms. Something that'd been more of a blessing than he could have ever imagined. It let him cut down the time he spent at home drastically and only forced him back during breaks. He was honestly thankful for it, even if he put up the same mask as always.
It was the winter break of his first year in high school when he finally broke, though. He’d lashed out in return, even if it’d been unintentional, but it was finally too much to keep dealing with. He couldn’t handle constantly being berated and knocked around like he wasn’t on track to be more successful than either of his parents could have dreamed of being. It was Christmas. Sure, they never celebrated it in the Bakugou household, but it was the final straw when he'd merely gone to the bathroom to refill his water bottle and landed himself in Mitsuki's wake. She wasn't having anything and he'd been too quiet or some other bullshit excuse she had pulled out like drawing from a damn hat before nearly leaving him as battered as some of his fights had.
His mind couldn't take it anymore, he'd suffered so much for so long and when she'd moved to take another hit at his face he'd moved to block it. He was genuinely terrified at that moment, his quirk flaring up and scalding her hand and wrist. It wasn't even a particularly bad injury, equating to accidentally spilling boiling water on her at most, but that didn't matter. None of it did. None of his restraint, his constant care put towards not being like her, his dreams of becoming a hero. Nothing mattered. Not anymore.
So, he ran. Everything he'd known, the friends he'd made, the slowly rebuilt relationship with Izuku, the teachers who'd pushed him to do more. All of it was left behind as he barricaded himself in his room just long enough to grab clothes that could actually keep him from dying in the cold and the case containing his costume. Like hell was he leaving without that. It was entirely selfish, but he was never afraid of displaying that. He'd worked hard to get the items and he wasn't willing to let them go, even with everything changing for the worse.
For the first few days, he hid away, sickening himself with how pathetic he felt he'd become because of that woman. He'd dealt with the dissociative states, the occasional panic attacks, the general stress of everything building with nothing to ever ease the pain he felt because of it. He had that for years but managed to keep himself contained enough to at least avoid anyone pushing much at all for details. It wasn't something he could tell anyone about and his bitterness towards his classmates only grew the longer he spent apart from them.
Why did they get to be happy? Why did they get the life he deserved? He'd been praised for his quirk for most of his life, people telling him he'd grow up to do great things far too often only for him to end up like this. It hurt more than the bruises ever had, but the pain only fueled him further from his past prior desires. Mitsuki hadn't even actually wanted him and ruined his life because of it. So, he planned to take it out on the world that had allowed her to, the world that hadn't helped him as he struggled to breathe under the drowning pressure of her 'parenting'.
He'd made his way through the cold trying, and failing, to find any of the members of the group that had kidnapped him. It was... humiliating, but they had some sort of plan that held his interest. He was going to give in to the request that got their previous hide-out destroyed and one member arrested. He was going to join them. And he did, somehow. He'd been a mess when he finally found them more by sheer luck than anything. Hair more untamed than ever and scarlet eyes dull, he reluctantly offered the case with his previous hero garb as collateral in a sense for the chance to speak to them.
To say he was violently detailed in describing the things he wanted to do would be an understatement. He was graphic and potentially a bit unhinged, but who in that group wasn't? Regardless, he joined the ranks, latching all too easily to the other pyro-maniac of the group. Maybe it was how he'd been treated by him when he was kidnapped, maybe it was that he was still incredibly attractive, or possibly both. Probably both, but regardless. He was like a moth to the man's flame, using it to relight his own before continuing to remain as close as he was allowed.
Tonight, however, he was weak once more. He'd been having nightmares every night for a while, but the one he'd just woken up from was different. It was more intense. The focal point was his mother and he couldn't tell if it was a memory or a dream as he woke in tears and a sickly sweet sweat that left him feeling frigid. He... didn't want to be alone after that... So, what did he do? Made his way to Dabi's door, of course, and stood there in frozen silence for at least a minute before knocking softly a few times. His eyes were tired and red from crying, his hands shaking when not shoved as far into his pockets as possible. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep on his own again and if he was lucky, the other male would still be up as well. Even if it was just that he could lay next to him or be in the same room, anything would be better than being by himself at the moment.
He thought Masaru was pathetic, but he didn't blame him. Mitsuki had worn him down enough since they'd been married, and while he resented what he had to deal with, he could understand why she was allowed to continue on with him. What he did resent his father for, however, was what he did when the woman wasn't around. He didn't do anything to his son, thankfully, but the boy could still hear him and his 'boyfriend's through the thin walls while he tried to work on homework. Why not just fucking run at that point? He didn't get it. If the man was home at the same time as his wife, they never crossed paths without arguing. Well, was it really an argument if it was just Mitsuki screaming at him about whatever pissed her off that time? Though, the part he hated most was the shared quality with the man. Women had never been appealing to him in the slightest and he despised it. Despised that he was in any way similar to Masaru. Despised that his first crush as a kid had been another boy in his class.
In elementary and middle school he'd been a mixed result of things. He was aggressive and crass, but he did his work, never turning things in late or getting a grade below 85%. Though, that was primarily because he didn't want to know what he might have to deal with if his mother saw anything less. On the other hand, he was mean. He hung around a few kids that enabled him, being the strongest of them and knocking down someone who'd used to be his friend to gain some control. In his final year, though, he went too far. He'd ruined what little was left of his dwindling friendship with Izuku in his eyes and the group of guys he'd called his friends ditched him. It was too far. He didn't apologize, though, not wanting to be weak. He didn't think that being sorry was weak, but he didn't want anyone to see the things he suffered through at home that lead him to lashing out so much. He didn't want to admit he was too weak to keep himself controlled.
Starting high school, he already had a reputation that preceded him, something he did at least try to combat. Midoriya still tried to talk to him, something he despised at first, but he did eventually soften enough to at least coexist even if he was constantly fighting harder to best the other. He couldn't lose, even if he continued getting more bruises than training could have left him with. At least Recovery Girl could help rid him of them before they were moved into the dorms. Something that'd been more of a blessing than he could have ever imagined. It let him cut down the time he spent at home drastically and only forced him back during breaks. He was honestly thankful for it, even if he put up the same mask as always.
It was the winter break of his first year in high school when he finally broke, though. He’d lashed out in return, even if it’d been unintentional, but it was finally too much to keep dealing with. He couldn’t handle constantly being berated and knocked around like he wasn’t on track to be more successful than either of his parents could have dreamed of being. It was Christmas. Sure, they never celebrated it in the Bakugou household, but it was the final straw when he'd merely gone to the bathroom to refill his water bottle and landed himself in Mitsuki's wake. She wasn't having anything and he'd been too quiet or some other bullshit excuse she had pulled out like drawing from a damn hat before nearly leaving him as battered as some of his fights had.
His mind couldn't take it anymore, he'd suffered so much for so long and when she'd moved to take another hit at his face he'd moved to block it. He was genuinely terrified at that moment, his quirk flaring up and scalding her hand and wrist. It wasn't even a particularly bad injury, equating to accidentally spilling boiling water on her at most, but that didn't matter. None of it did. None of his restraint, his constant care put towards not being like her, his dreams of becoming a hero. Nothing mattered. Not anymore.
So, he ran. Everything he'd known, the friends he'd made, the slowly rebuilt relationship with Izuku, the teachers who'd pushed him to do more. All of it was left behind as he barricaded himself in his room just long enough to grab clothes that could actually keep him from dying in the cold and the case containing his costume. Like hell was he leaving without that. It was entirely selfish, but he was never afraid of displaying that. He'd worked hard to get the items and he wasn't willing to let them go, even with everything changing for the worse.
For the first few days, he hid away, sickening himself with how pathetic he felt he'd become because of that woman. He'd dealt with the dissociative states, the occasional panic attacks, the general stress of everything building with nothing to ever ease the pain he felt because of it. He had that for years but managed to keep himself contained enough to at least avoid anyone pushing much at all for details. It wasn't something he could tell anyone about and his bitterness towards his classmates only grew the longer he spent apart from them.
Why did they get to be happy? Why did they get the life he deserved? He'd been praised for his quirk for most of his life, people telling him he'd grow up to do great things far too often only for him to end up like this. It hurt more than the bruises ever had, but the pain only fueled him further from his past prior desires. Mitsuki hadn't even actually wanted him and ruined his life because of it. So, he planned to take it out on the world that had allowed her to, the world that hadn't helped him as he struggled to breathe under the drowning pressure of her 'parenting'.
He'd made his way through the cold trying, and failing, to find any of the members of the group that had kidnapped him. It was... humiliating, but they had some sort of plan that held his interest. He was going to give in to the request that got their previous hide-out destroyed and one member arrested. He was going to join them. And he did, somehow. He'd been a mess when he finally found them more by sheer luck than anything. Hair more untamed than ever and scarlet eyes dull, he reluctantly offered the case with his previous hero garb as collateral in a sense for the chance to speak to them.
To say he was violently detailed in describing the things he wanted to do would be an understatement. He was graphic and potentially a bit unhinged, but who in that group wasn't? Regardless, he joined the ranks, latching all too easily to the other pyro-maniac of the group. Maybe it was how he'd been treated by him when he was kidnapped, maybe it was that he was still incredibly attractive, or possibly both. Probably both, but regardless. He was like a moth to the man's flame, using it to relight his own before continuing to remain as close as he was allowed.
Tonight, however, he was weak once more. He'd been having nightmares every night for a while, but the one he'd just woken up from was different. It was more intense. The focal point was his mother and he couldn't tell if it was a memory or a dream as he woke in tears and a sickly sweet sweat that left him feeling frigid. He... didn't want to be alone after that... So, what did he do? Made his way to Dabi's door, of course, and stood there in frozen silence for at least a minute before knocking softly a few times. His eyes were tired and red from crying, his hands shaking when not shoved as far into his pockets as possible. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep on his own again and if he was lucky, the other male would still be up as well. Even if it was just that he could lay next to him or be in the same room, anything would be better than being by himself at the moment.