Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

thump thump thump

The sort of cream used on his chest was cold, he didn’t like it.

thump thump thump

Before all that, he thought only pregnant women would get those types of exams. But it was now his turn to stay still while the doctor examined his heart. 

thump thump thump

“Well, everything seems fine to me!” She concluded while cleaning the ultrasound probe. His father sighed in relief beside him, shooting him a smile the teenager ignored. It wasn’t good news at all, he expected answers. The man dropped his smile in defeat, knowing what was about to happen. Still, he tried:

“Katsuki-”

“Fine? Fine? It feels like I run a marathon every now and then!” He barked. His whole body jerked forward as the doctor's shoulder tensed for a bit.

Katsuki Bakugo was sixteen, student of UA and survivor of both wars. His heart had been torn apart in one hit less than a year ago. 

Since the surgery, Katsuki had moments where his heart decided to fuck up and beat like crazy, even though he would simply be lying in bed. He would think his time had come, his heart giving up. Only to get better soon after. The woman turned to look at him, admittedly taken aback by his aggressiveness. Well sorry to be mad when people wouldn’t explain shit to him.

“I…was coming to that, yes.” She landed some tissue to clean his chest before heading back to her desk, tapping on her laptop. They both joined her after a minute or two, sitting on the plastic chairs on the other side of the desk. He still had some product left, which made his shirt sticky, but it was hidden behind his hoodie anyway. Some Fatgum merch Kirishima begged him to buy. His mother nearly had a heart attack herself with how unstylish it was.

“What you are experiencing is tachycardia.” Nice, he could feel his father’s worriness in the air. Big word alert, so scary.

“It’s pretty normal after what you’ve been through. It was to be expected after such an event.” 

What he’s been through, uh.

He forced himself to focus on the conversation.

“Is this something we should worry about?” His father asked beside him, and Katsuki wanted nothing more than to scream at him. Oh, I don’t think so, perfectly healthy to be dizzy and having his heart racing after taking the stairs! 

He could blame it on physical efforts, blame the hero training, but he was allowed less than an hour of training a day. And with a ugly ass watch checking his heart beat; no, his heart acting up was way trickier than this. It would happen while waiting in line for lunch, while getting up from a chair or when he was asked about the war. It was so random.

“I wouldn’t say so. I…” She tapped her red pen on the desk a couple times, visibly searching her words. “I am in no means a professional in that field, but I would suggest getting checked for anxiety. Either way, we'lldiscuss it with the staff and-” Bakugo tuned out the rest.

Anxiety?

Katsuki Bakugo, feeling miserable because of anxiety?

The rest of the appointment was muffled to his ears (duh), his thoughts plagued his mind and refrain him from thinking straight.

Who was she to think he would stand so low? Partially deaf, cardiac and now stressed? He was the hero, not the victim here.

Hell, nothing wrong with any of that, but he was Bakugo, he was above all that. He came back to life– he should have the biggest ego ever with that fact alone. But all those health problems? Yeah, no.

He knew his father repeated everything to him in the car, but he turned off his hearing aid and slept through it, only turning back the device once he was sure the man stopped talking, then listening to the waves. If he slept, he could resist the urge to smash a window. Or two.

16/20, good, beware of not exposing opinions but facts.

“Yo, you should tutor me! I totally failed!” Whined Denki, already hiding his paper in his notebook. Most of his papers were crumbled, lots of bad grades Bakugo guessed. At least Aizawa had the decency to wait until the end of the class to hand the papers back, letting them talk about it.

It seemed most people did fine, but Denki and Mina were probably just brain dead at this point.

“Ah, he would give up after 10 minutes, you’re impossible to teach to.” Snorted Jirou, a hand before her mouth. Sero and Kirishima joined the taunting, soon followed by Mina. Always glued to each other, surrounding him. It pissed him off. Couldn't they just let him breathe ?

“What? Come on, Bakugo, tell them they’re wrong!” Cried Denki, grabbing Katsuki’s shoulder before getting pushed back. No one said anything about the way he pushed him with more strength than necessary.

…

A 16, he was 4th in the class. Not even top 3.

And what if he gave a bit of his opinions, he still gave facts. His so-called opinions were backed up by numbers. It wasn’t fair, he probably was just angry that day and wrote a few snappy comments without thinking much of it– but it didn’t remove how his facts were here, precise and correct. He wanted to scream so badly.

He probably shouted a few insults to the others’ faces, out of habit, before urging out of the classroom. He didn’t want to talk to those extras, didn’t want to see anyone’s face, especially not Deku’s who ended up first because, of course, that nerd would beat him at an essay about quirk theory. He was able not to express opinions, uh?

...

Izuku, Izuku not Deku.

...

His palms were sweaty with anger, tiny sparkles poking at his skin as he stormed in his room. He knows better than to explode his bedroom because, even though the dorms were modified to suit their quirks, it was another story when it came to the furniture. The walls could contain the sound of his explosion but no amount of glue could keep his bed on the floor.

His bag was thrown across his room as he let himself yell from anger; everything seemed to be against him these past few days. Katsuki’s hands were clenched in fists and his teeth gritted in annoyance past his lips. His anger felt like acid in his system, blocking his airway and losing his balance. 

Anxiety my ass, if there was a reason for his so called tachycardia, it surely would be his bad temper. He let himself slide against the wall, waiting for his body to come back to his senses.

His chest hurt.

How not to be angry when his life was this annoying now? Get angry, get nerfed by his body and repeat the cycle, again and again. 

Dabbing the sweat off his temples with his shirt, he decided the best course of action would be to clean himself and start on his homework. He wasn’t feeling like eating today.

His shirt joined the rest of his clothes on the ground as he slipped under the burning hot water. It felt like a thousand tiny meteors on his skin, and it felt good. The best he felt in those past 24 hours, honestly. His shower was his favourite place in the dorms; instead of the curtains he used to have at his parents’ house, here it was a glass door. Quite a spacious shower too. He made sure to set it to the hottest possible, though, he didn't want it to feel like rain.

Getting angry was like his second nature, at this point. He must’ve been cursed at birth, unable to feel happiness if it wasn’t for his pride. Maybe anger was what fueled him, kept him going.

He was used to being angry. He knew how to deal with it, his friends knew, his parents knew. So why does this feel so different?

Why does it feel wrong when he gets mad at his hearing aid being uncomfortable? Why was it so hard to just go on with his day?

Were misery and rage the only thing for him? A punishment for what he did to All Might? Izuku? Edgeshot?

God he was so, so mad with himself right now.

Maybe a little too mad; he squeezed his shampoo too strongly, getting some in his eyes.

Good thing rooms were soundproof, the scream he left was embarrassing.

Clean to the eyeball and mood unchanged, he was left with one single option to try and remove the wrath from his system; studying.

As of now, his finger scratched at his scalp in annoyance. In front of him lay his media training homework, and while he was an academic person, he just couldn't bring himself to actually fill the papers. 

The assignment was quite simple; a short analysis on a hero interview. They were supposed to pick up techniques to avoid personal questions, how to answer about failed missions, in summary all the annoying parts of hero work. Minus paperwork, but Katsuki didn't mind that much that part anyway. Sero called him a nerd once, for that, so he blew his desk to pieces. Totally deserved. Even though UA has a more strict school property policy than Aldera. Cleaning the dorms a second time hadn’t been fun.

It was time for the first part of his analysis; highlighting. In orange, the good points. And in green the bad ones. But, as he scanned his paper, he cursed upon noticing he barely highlighted anything at all in the past half hour he was working.

He just couldn't work like that, his brain was fuming and his legs bouncy. He needed to release all that, needed to ragebait some people or anything, honestly. 

Katsuki suppressed a yell as he stood up, his homework would wait. 

What was wrong with him tonight ? He couldn't even tell-

…

He could release it the old way. Writing a cringy song.

…

Now, Katsuki wasn't a stranger to this whole music world. He used to have a band in middle school and helped crush the other classes at the festival with Jiro last year. But he didn't pick up this hobby after the  war. After losing a part of his hearing. 

Still, his body moved with such ease it seemed as if it never forgot; he reached for his All Might notebook–no comment, thank you– and sat against his bed. The wood stabbed at his back, but he was so used to this spot he couldn’t get himself to write anywhere else. The bed was too prone to day dreaming instead and his desk was for homeworks.

Bakugo couldn't place words on his feelings, but perhaps he could create a story capable of replicating his wrath. Or a part of it, at least.

He skipped most pages, already filled with old songs or drum notation. He should get a new one, one day. Reading his old lyrics made him even more angry. He used to be such an asshole, but maybe he still was.

(At least, he wasn’t a damn quirkist anymore. He still couldn’t believe he let himself be influenced to judge someone on that sole fact.)

After all, that is what his classmate always said about him. ‘Basic Bakugo’, they would say after he lashed out. They shouldn’t have gotten used to his medicated self; he wasn’t a calm person. Just take a look at his quirk. 

Who was he if not explosive? Angry? Loud and unruly?

A story about someone being angry wasn't that hard to write. It was smooth, he wrote the first thing that appeared in his mind. He was quite rusty, no near his old writing technique. But it was okay, it’d been a while after all.

I'm my one worst enemy

And if his lyrics were corny, why should he care? Everyone was corny, even All Might and his stupid smash names.

I'm sick of feeling

It's not like anyone will ever hear it anyway. He won't even perform it– it was cathartic, as Denki would say. Nothing more.

Take this all away

It wasn't even about him. 

Tell me, what the fuck is wrong with me?

So even if someone was to knock on his door, or even enter upon receiving no answer, why would he care?

…

His head snapped to the side, palms ready to fire.

“Wow wow wow! Calm down !” Kirishima yelped from the door frame, throwing his hands up.

“Why are you here ?!” Katsuki yelled back, throwing the notebook somewhere under his bed. He hadn't noticed shitty hair coming in. Katsuki stood up.

In the little time he spent so far at UA, Kirishima was without doubt the only person he allowed himself to grow significantly close to. Apart from Izuku, of course, but for the first time ever he felt like he earned the right to be a little weak in front of someone. Just a little, though; Katsuki still had pride. The rest of his group of idiots weren’t half bad, but it wasn’t the same, they didn’t make his days brighter.

Him and Kirishima even took the habit to ‘train together’, Katsuki wouldn’t call running on the beach training but he didn’t care enough to argue.

“You said you would come, play the drums I mean. You’re okay man?”

Oh. Well, he had completely forgotten about that crap. Great. Perfect timing. He totally was in the mood to see a bunch of idiots. Jiro did ask him to play the drums, yesterday.

He weigh up the cons and the pros in his head. Writing lyrics hadn’t been that efficient, even if he did feel a little more collected. The drums were the fastest option. And they had no chance doing a good song without his talent; he just had to help them. Playing the drums…something candid, but he could feel his limbs relax at the sole idea of it. He kind of wanted to, even if he would prefer dying than admitting it. 

Without saying a word, because frankly no he wasn’t okay but saying so made him look like a victim, he started heading to Jiro’s room. He heard Kirishima following, and so didn’t bother looking back.

“So–what was it?” The red head asked, grinning at Katsuki. The other looked at him with frowned brows, confused. “You were writing, you keep secrets from your best bro?” He faked a hurt tone, testing the water by elbowing Katsuki. He let it slide. He always let it slide with him- he liked the boy. Bestfriend or something.

“Homework.” Katsuki lied. He quickly turned his head and mentally cursed; why did his ears have to turn red when he was embarrassed? 

“Yeah, sure.” His friend chuckled, opening the door.

“Blasty, you made it!” Ashido cheered, jumping up and down from her spot next to the window. She had a bunch of paper in her hand. Next to her, Kaminari waved at him before going back to tuning his guitar. Bakugo simply sighed, already fed up.

But the thing is, when you end up in a war with people, you tend to be more tolerant given the fact you almost lost them. They were annoying, loud, stupid but also the only one he wouldn’t mind being called Katsuki by.

“Ah, you’re a lifesaver. I can’t sing and play the drums at the same time, and I was dying to record live.” Jiro said between huffs, seemingly tired after putting all the instruments in the center of the room.

The day prior, she asked him to help them record a song. He said no, multiple times actually, but it seems they caught on his character quite fast when, after the third attempt, they dropped the compliments and started calling him a wimp instead.

He couldn’t let them call him a wimp. So he finally agreed.

“I can understand Ears and Dunce face, but what are you extras doing here?” He grunted, looking at the others. What, Ashido could play the flute with her horn or something? Really, they didn’t really scream musicians to him.

“Aw, man.” Pouted Kirishima. Sero smiled before answering:

“You really didn’t listen yesterday, did you? Well…”

Jiro was obviously the bassist and main singer. Though she often gave the mic to Ashido who was the one to rap. Then, Kaminari played the electric guitar and Hanta the acoustic one. And Kirishima… well, if he liked being the backing vocalist and doing basic piano, good for him. His singing was much better than what he showed for the festival.

“We thought we would let you freestyle the drums.” Kaminari informed him, being beside him once they all were behind the instrument. 

Was he really doing that?

Apparently, yes, because soon enough he listened to the original (they were doing a cover, apparently) and traded his hearing aid for earplugs.

“Yeah, I can work with that.” He muttered. Then, they started playing.

The first hit of the drumstick resonated like a shockwave in his arm. His hearing was shitty, but he still managed to hear enough to not mess this up. Maybe he should look for a more fitting hearing aid. He started recalling the lines in his head:

Hello, again, friend of a friend, I knew you when

As if the impact could travel through his blood, he felt it in his fingers, wrist and shoulder. The way his strength left his hand to hit the surface, moving it as an extension to his arm, he wouldn't admit it but it was radically as good as a fight. Feeling the smooth surface of the wood in his hand, hitting the drum a second time, it was as an instinct that suddenly woke up. His whole body was alert and yet the more relaxed he had been in a while.

Our common goal was waiting for the world to end

He quickly got the rhythm right, playing as smoothly as if he followed notations. Katsuki caught Kirishima’s glance a second before entering a sort of trance, breathing in the music. He let out air he hadn’t realised he kept and let the anger sip away. All that rage that piled up beneath his skin, it all came rushing down in swift and strong movement.

Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend

He could finally let it out.

You crack the whip, shape-shift and trick the past again

Behind the thunder of sound around him, muffled by the ear plug, he could hear Jiro’s singing, accompanied from time to time by Ashido. He couldn't make out the words, or much of the song, though. 

Send you my love on a wire

He was pretty sure his face didn’t translate at all what he was feeling. His mind and body slowly faded in peace as his wrath took over, exploding without judgement. Like a hoard of fish getting caught in a stream, all his negative thoughts followed. He could let it go of everything; how he had felt like poison was rising in his throat when he saw the ranking of today’s grades.

Lift you up everytime

His hearing aid not staying after the shower because of water in his ear.

Everyone pulls away–

Tachycardia.

–from you

Ashido clapped her hands as soon as the recording stopped, saying something he could not decipher with the stuff in his ears. He quickly grabbed his hearing aid and swapped the item. He was getting used to wearing it now, but was still pissed he needed it.

“We should form a band!” Kirishima laughed as he approached the computer, watching Jiro renaming the file of their song. Black sheep cover live.

“Totally, girls love guitarists, right?” Kaminari put his arm around Hanta’s shoulder, the both of them already day dreaming. What a duo of jerks. 

“No one would want your ass if you act like that!” He screamed at them, ready to throw his drumsticks in their direction. Which he did despite their apologies.

“Oh, we should totally make music videos where I dance then!” The pink one chimed in while lifting her arms in the air, not helping her two friends currently under stick attack.

“I’m not that great of a musician but I do a great job with backstage stuff, it would rock!”

They continued talking, voices overlapping each other with excitement without noticing Jiro’s nervousness.

“Uhm, guys?” She tried. 

“Yeah?” Hanta replied, already planning his stage name with the others. Jiro looked to the side, biting her bottom lip.

“I was thinking about…staying anonymous. For now.”

“Whaaaat!” Ashido screamed.

“Why?!” Followed Kaminari. That bastard was probably thinking about fangirls, if his day-dreaming face meant anything.

They all, minus Bakugo who was actually glad, gathered around her. She exhaled, looking over her shoulder at her computer.

Her desk was quite messy, piles of papers and junk here and there. Making this music didn’t help as they all put their stuff on it; phones, drinks, …

“I don’t want pros to think we give more attention to music than training.” She admitted. It left the other stunned, but ready to listen. “I know most don’t care– we’re teenagers. But, with how picky some were with the sports festival, I… I don’t want to risk it.” Her voice decreased in intensity.

“Man, that actually makes sense.” Kirishima agreed, putting his hand on the left side of his neck in shame. They nodded, and for a while no one talked.

Bakugo deemed it the best outcome; he didn’t want unwanted attention on them anyway, and if it became public they made music, UA would never leave them. They already got class 2-B breathing down their neck, no need to give them another reason to gossip. 

He hated those whispers whenever they walked by, even if it was whispers of admiration. 

“Mmmh, well, good thing we won’t be at UA forever, then!” Ashido smiled, playfully hitting her friend. “Come on, now! Let us listen!”

The mood lightened up slowly.

“Yeah, don’t gatekeep!”

Katsuki groaned, he didn’t care and didn’t want to be part of a band. It may have felt good, but it was stupid. Besides, it was almost 8 pm.

He left the room.

It probably was the worst idea, because now he couldn’t open his phone without getting bombarded by messages pleading him to listen to their song. But he didn't care!

The drums were amazing, that’s it, and he already knew it.

He laid on his bed, already dreading this day. He barely slept, hunger bothering him all night. He hesitated before unlocking his phone. Surely, they would’ve stopped sending the soundcloud link overnight, right?

Uh.

Who was he kidding.

You received 65 new messages from “STOP CHANGING THE NAME OF THE GC”

….

Fuck it. Let’s take a look!

Turns out, the song was good. Not something he would listen to, but still good. 

And maybe he shouldn't have voiced his liking because it was now 8 pm on a Friday and he was bribed into going out. 

As of now, they should be back home for the weekend, which all students were glad about. They weren't under any threat after all. They just finished class, actually, and still had their backpack. They would take their train after.

Maybe they had good points or it was the fact he was trapped in Hanta's tape, but Bakugo found himself outside of UA pretty quickly. The air was pretty chill, the sky peppered with clouds. They walked for a while, a walk Bakugo tried to fight but couldn't. That tape was sturdy. 

Streets were oddly calm at first, houses still lit but cars parked and kids already put to bed. As they approached the more urban side of town, neighborhoods morphing into rows of bakeries and restaurants, chatters and laughter grew in intensity.

The walk seemed lively, the others laughing and joking around. But he didn't want to give them his attention; he didn't want to be here in the first place. He kept his attention on the sound of their footsteps on the ground and the sea getting closer. They were heading for the harbour, the side filled with crappy bars.

“If we were to play on stage,” Jiro announced, “I would love it to be here.”

“A… Creepy old bar?” Kaminari wondered, tilting his head.

Indeed, they had stopped in front of a washed out bar. The paint barely stayed on the wall and Bakugo swore he saw rats on the ground. Jiro laughed nervously, her hair waving with the light breeze characteristics of the shore:

“I know it's ugly, but I swear it's the best place to play around here. Besides, the lights are always so dim that no one would see us.” 

They took the time to observe it. Yeah, no, no way he would step in that. 

“Tss, now that you all had time to daydream, what about leaving this rat hole?” Katsuki groaned.

“Oops, I thought I taped his mouth too.” Joked Hanta. It didn't make Katsuki laugh. 

“Ah, you're right. We'll be lucky if we even get one subscriber.”

At least this outing allowed him the courtesy of walking home alone. Usually he would have other students alongside him, but today he was walking down the badly lit streets on his own. He put his headphones on, letting a random song from their common playlist with Jiro play.

It was still fairly warm for 9pm, training would have been perfect with this weather. Due to his…condition, he wasn't trusted to fight everyday. Aizawa made him sign for rescue classes, and while technically everyone had to do them and he was just doing some ahead of them, he felt like a charity case. 

Kirishima tried to hype him up but he was just happy about everything, and as much as Katsuki was glad to see him smile because of him, it also didn't hold much value when it was his default stage.

In another life, Katsuki would be someone to lean on. And he would see his friend under a new light. But it must trigger his tachycardia with how cringe it was because he would end up sweaty each time he thought of it. So screw that.

He realized how deep in his thoughts he got lost when he arrived at his home. The lights were still on, maybe they didn't have dinner yet. He hoped so, he was too tired to cook something right now. He pushed the door open, hastily removing his shoes.

“Katsuki, is that you?” He heard his mother call. He answered with a grunt, heading to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. His dad was stirring a pot, greeting him without expecting an answer. Bakugo wasn’t talkative.

“Can you set up the table?” The man asked. Katsuki nodded and did as he was told, mouth watering at the idea of a warm meal. 

Soon enough, the three of them were finishing their bowl. His mother was telling a story about a bitchy client or something like that, he couldn’t quite focus. His thoughts kept turning toward his new ‘responsibility’.

A band…He never thought he would get back to music. Reaching for the title of greatest hero–or at least greater than Izuku– he let go of most of his hobbies. Books were abandoned for textbooks, hikes reserved for holidays and music…disappeared. It felt like a waste of time, something that would hold back his improvement. He had forgotten how good music felt.

Lyrics were like his thoughts had been scanned and transcribed with perfection, whereas the beat matched the pace of his turmoil. 

“Brat, I’m calling you!” He snapped out of it when his mother yelled at him, to which he answered with a yell on its own. “What were you even thinking about?” 

It was supposed to be kept a secret, but Katsuki was pretty sure their parents weren’t included in it. Who would they snitch to, Inko ? He began to gather the plates to wash them, asking with as much detachment as possible: “Do we still have the drums?”

His parents seemed confused, looking at each other. His father nodded slowly, getting his attention back on his son: “Uh, yeah, yeah. I think so.”

“Nice.” Noticing his mother was about to ask questions, he stood and strode to the kitchen. Unfortunately for him, she didn’t forget what she had to ask when he came back to the living room.

“You play music now?” She had a sly smile on her face. It made Katsuki sigh; of course she would be happy to be right about it. She was the one who made him take drums lessons in the first place. She acted the exact same way back in middle school when he formed a band.

“Yeah. With Kirishima ‘n the others.” He slouched on the sofa, ready to escape this conversation. “What are you waiting for? Go check if they’re here!” He snarled upon noticing his father sitting beside him. It earned him a slap on the top of the head by his mother.

“Care to help me remember who suggested music as a hobby, hm?” She bragged, stopping in front of the boys. “What genre do you do?”

Gosh, they were so talkative lately. He wanted to punch them. (They probably were too scared to see his dead body on national news again and tried to enjoy every minute with their son while he was alive. But Katsuki wouldn’t hear it.) He shrugged, scoffing. “I– don’t know??? We played one song, ‘s just the start.”

The woman suddenly beamed, flapping her hand on her husband's knee to get his attention. 

“I know which song they should play! Wait–”

She skipped her way to the CD player located beneath the TV. Katsuki shared a look with his father, already up to blowing the whole room in case it became even more embarrassing than that. 

She may be angry, short tempered and a hot-head, she could also be such a sap when it comes to family. Both adults were in their own way. His father, back at the hospital after the  war, told him she stayed awake to look through old family photos. Maybe he should’ve just kept his mouth shut, he thought as he planted his fists in his pockets. 

She finally put on a CD and skipped to one song in particular…

‘I recognize this guitar. Fuck’, mentally cursed Katsuki. 

“Our wedding song, Masaru!” 

She could’ve put on one of his father’s classical songs instead, but no. Or even old people's rock songs. He wanted to hide between the cushions. Gosh, can’t they just check for the drums and let him be?

His father straightened his back, smiling at his wife. 

“Ah, Chiquitita!”

Chiquitita by ABBA; She really expected him, Katsuki, to play such a sappy song?

Chiquitita tell me the truth

His mother began singing along, pretending the remote was a mic. Please, let him go. His father followed up next, taking the hand his wife offered. And if Katsuki wasn’t already digging his grave, ready to die from embarrassment, he definitely was now that they began dancing.

You were always sure of yourself, now I see you’ve broken a feather

“Oi, don’t.” He complained, aiming a kick at his father's shin. He missed. They simply laugh, singing more obnoxiously to piss him off. They could be so childish sometimes. 

Hand in hand, they executed badly done dance moves. They spinned just like the CD, holding in unison the remote. Masaru had a soft but pleased expression, it wasn’t often they had domestic scenes like that among the Bakugos. 

One foot after the other, they found amusement in their silly moves. When the chorus began, Masaru detached one of his hands to reach out for Bakugo.

His hand came really close to his face.

“Hey, I’m not doing that.” He barked.

“How the heartaches come and they go and the scars they’re leaving– come on, brat!”

Katsuki stepped backward, which resulted in simply pushing his back deep in the sofa since he was sitting. He was NOT going to dance with his parents as if he was a toddler.

You’ll be dancing once again and the pain will end

He could feel his body getting hotter, sweat pooling in the center of his palms. Uh, it wasn't good. 

You will have no time for grieving

His parents were laughing, music blasting and they kept trying to make him dance too– he felt cornered. When did he become such a cry baby? His mother playfully pocked at his forehead before launching herself at her husband, smiling as they kept swirling. 

“But the sun is still in the sky and shinin’ above you– come on Katsuki!” Even his father was pushing it. 

His heart was acting weird again. He felt his throat tightened, his vision beginning to swing. Screw this, screw his drums; he lifted himself from the sofa, surprisingly still capable of having a good posture. 

Katsuki rapidly made his way to the stairs, escaping whatever trap his parents set on him. 

“Wait, Chiquitita !” Taunted his mother, thinking he was simply embarrassed. 

Try once more like you did before

“Don't call me that.” He managed to groan before finally reaching upstairs.. 

Sing a new song Chiquitita

…And having to sit immediately. 

He choked on air a few times, clutching at his chest to the point his knuckles turned white. Oh, oh he was certain he was about to pass out. His heart beat faster by the second, making him lose all sense of space and time. His heartbeat was usually slow due to his quirk, he wasn't used to it. Honestly, it wasn't that bad, and he wouldn't be so bitchy about it if it didn't remind him of that day. 

Sweat felt like rain on his skin. The cold floor like mud. The stabbing pain in his chest was way too familiar. He hated this he hated this he hated this. 

Ten minutes later, but it really felt like hours, Katsuki calmed down. He could hear faint music downstairs and his breath slowing down. 

As he went to his bedroom (he wasn't feeling like showering and feeling water hitting his skin, even hot water which was usually comforting) his mind kept racing. It had been so weird– even though he learnt that word recently, he understood how tachycardia manifested for him. Dizziness, heart beating fast. But never it had gone so far, went on for so long. It usually lasted less than five minutes, less than two even, and yet tonight felt like forever. 

It made him spiral, sensations from the war lingering in his mind. A shaky finger laid on his chest, searching for a hole that wasn't there. 

How he wished he had his drums with him.