Butterflies ✓ (⛔)

I didn't intend on making this so long but... eh

Everything hurt, the weight of gravity too much for his body. He didn't like living anymore, he didn't know if he still wanted to be a hero anymore. He didn't really deserve to, did he? 

He probably would've tried a little harder in his training before all of this but he couldn't remember himself anymore. It scared him a little, was he different now? He couldn't tell. All he knew was that everything hurt. Everything was falling apart and he was losing himself. To what, he didn't know. Whatever he was supposed to be battling for before now was insignificant. At least, it should be. He couldn't remember it. It couldn't be very important if he forgot it. 

Perhaps it was the pain, the injuries he felt but kept forgetting to address. He kept forgetting things. Everything but those moments that plagued him. He couldn't seem to remember anything but those moments, his mind was slowly deteriorating into nothing but the pain of those moments. 

He could remember being in this thick substance where his quirk didn't work. What even was his quirk? What exactly were quirks? They must be important, everyone kept talking about them. Whatever his was, he couldn't use it. The substance stopping it, holding him captive and slowly suffocating him. 

He couldn't remember how he got out, but that memory or rather, that feeling, must be why he had this extreme spike of dread every time he wore too tight clothes. 

There was always this hovering sense of him forgetting. It scared him, he couldn't tell what he was forgetting. Was it everything? Sometimes he couldn't remember his name. That really scared him. Why couldn't he remember these things? 

So he took up writing things down, he'd forget things and he could read them. Fo example, 'My name was Katsuki Bakugou'. He'd written that down. His birthday he couldn't remember. So he'd spent hours staring at the empty line on the page simply stating 'Birthday:' as if he'd actually remember. 

Why was he here? What was he trying to do, exactly? Oh that's right, he'd written that down. So he got up and shakily moved towards the desk. (That's what it was called right? He couldn't remember sometimes.) 'I want to be a hero'. A hero? Why would he want to be a hero...? Oh that's right, he'd wanted to be number one. 

He stayed in the room. This place was only safe at night. So he waited until the sun was down and the building was completely silent. He'd crack hid door open and check. 

That was what he was doing now. He peered through the door and stumbled through the door. His balance wasn't very good. Why? He couldn't remember. Maybe it was from the pain in his upper thighs and stomach. 

Tonight he'd brought the pages for ramen. He'd forgotten to bring the book last time and had to go all the way back. 

The kitchen was always easy to find, he'd written detailed maps to get there on his arms and maintained them through showers and daily movement. He turned on the light as the note said he could if everyone was gone. No one was awake on this floor. Probably. 

Right then. 'Step one: find the small pan. It'll be in the cabinet three spaces from the fridge and on the bottom. Be quiet! Fill with water to reach the line.'

Simple enough. He, Katsuki was it? Katsuki crouched down, one hand bracing himself on the floor and the other opening the cabinet door. His sight swept through the pans inside and he reached for the small one, as instructed. 

Tonight, he could remember where the ramen was kept and how to turn on the stove, so he skipped past those steps. 

'Step five: cook for six minutes. Stir when bubbles too high. Set a timer on phone. Vibrate only' He searched for his phone and sighed. He forgot it. Well that's pretty shitty. So he watched the clock. Keeping track of the minutes on his fingers. He'd forget otherwise. When it hit five minutes, he read the next step.