warning: mentions of bullying, rape, and abuse. more will be noted on top of each chapter
˚✧₊⁎| | ⁎⁺˳✧༚
rem sleep is important to your sleep cycle because it stimulates the areas of your brain that are es...
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˚✧₊⁎| 最初 | ⁎⁺˳✧༚
𝓚𝓪𝓽𝓼𝓾𝓴𝓲 Bakugo has always asked himself; what did he do to deserve the life he got? Was it his existence? Was it his name? Was it his personality? What did he do? His parents didn't love him, more less abused the poor boy. Yet, he still loved them.
Cooking food? That was always earned him a beating for entering the kitchen.
Cleaning the house? That also always earned a beating for missing something.
Helping his mom with the groceries? Earned him a beating for just being in her presence.
Everything he seemed to do to help them would just end up with him a bloody bruised mess. But it didn't matter. It was helping them right? Beating him was helping them right? So it was ok. It's always ok.
He loves them.
He loves his friends too. They act just like his parents, abusive. No one liked him. His soft personality was a gagger for anyone. He was an easy target for a quick beating.
His lunch was often stolen, being the one thing he could eat. He was always beaten during breaks, before and after school. He had death threats and suicide jokes often displayed onto him. His desk was carved with numerous "die" "fuck you" "fat fuck" "kill your self."
But today, made his breakdown so bad.
Someone had sexually assaulted the boy. It was a third year, he was sure.
He was still trying to get up from the floor, his smile still plastered on his face knowing he was helping everyone but letting them take their anger out on him.
Out of no where; the third year tightly holds onto the boy's wrist. And soon, Katsuki was trying to cloud his mind of the foul thought. He had never thought about it much before, how much everyone hates him.
But if it was helping them, it was worth it. Right?
Katsuki tried his best to muffle his sniffles. The house was deadly quiet at night. Instead, his eyes turned to face his wired earbuds laying on the blankets of a bed. Shaking, his fingers curled around the bud, picking one up and pushing it into his ear. Repeating this step with the other.
Shifted his eyes side to side, he spotted it. His phone. He had been gifted with it for his 11th birthday by his aunt. Before her heart attacks a few months later. But it was the newest model.
At the time.
But still, he was grateful for such a gift. Plunging his earbud into its desired socket, he pressed play on his playlist. Before falling asleep on his blanket.
