Bakugo sighed as he laid his rag of a pencil down, worn down to a nub. His hand and wrist were numb from how long he'd drawn.
He picked up his Airpods and settled them into his ears before grabbing his phone. Stupid fucking phone, but hey, it was a useful piece of technology.
"Stupid bitch, take me to SoundCloud," he snapped at his Siri.
"Taking you to SoundCloud."
"You better me, you nagging dumb ass." Ah, the way these machines didn't reply made him upset- well, more upset then he had been previously.
It had been his choice to end the relationship, no one else's. So why was he so fucking upset about the damn thing?
He had tried to (in a sexual manner, of course) sleep with Midoriya, who had whimpered and cried beneath him before he had even entered. Whiney whiney and whiney. Something about him not liking Kacchan and being sorry. In the end, they'd both cried, but for different reasons.
I did it for love. For her. So why do I feel so fucked up, damn it!?
He scrolled through his playlist, eventually finding a song he liked. "Mr. Brightside" by The Killers. He guessed the song would fit Kirishima or Kaminari better because of the title, but in that moment it seemed to have been made for the sole purpose of making him feel understood.
He leaned back in his chair, stretching, his hands linked above his head. The bones in his back popped, and as he stretched he found his eyes returning to the open window. A cool breeze blew through, ridding his skin of its glossy sheen of sweat. It was five in the morning and the sun had risen, but in the east the horizon was still a bunch of colors messily thrown together in a jumble.
He looked at it and found it beautiful. It was unusual for him to think such a thought about something as simple and natural as a sunset or a sunrise, but there it was.
We even got a secret handshake, and she loves the music that my band makes!
This wasn't Mr. Brightside. He had spent enough time contemplating, somehow, for the song to end and another one to begin. Whichever this one was, he decided he could let it play out, despite the fact it brought him memories of Y/n.
Five in the morning. Uh-oh. He had a full day of classes waiting ahead of him. He'd be dead tired, but he'd done it again and again since the break up, so he figured he could do it a few more times.
Yawning loudly, he closed up his sketchbook. He hadn't been one to draw, but ever since Y/n, he had taken it up. It wasn't really very good, still developing. Ever since the break up it had worsened considerably, but it was still decent, to the right set of eyes.
Even though he was quite bad at it, he still liked it and did it as often as he could.
He sighed and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. It wasn't fair. No one understood him, they just saw him as a tool to be used, and sure it was a strong tool, and definitely a rowdy and particularly loud one, but still just that: a tool.
Not a child, but a fucking tool.
He underslept for a few reasons, one of which being that a. it kept the nightmares away and b. it gave him more time to do things he actually, genuine liked, save for training and studying and the like. Like drawing and reading, for instance. He loved sitting curled up in his desk chair, his knees drawn up to his chest as he read horror novels, which kept the more real tragedies of his life away. Because when you read, everything went away and you entered a fantasy world where nothing went awry, even if it was a horror book.
He was really fond of crime ones, but not the really gorey ones. He didn't like murder or rape or anything like that. He was more fond of robberies and more minor things.
"Bakugo?" His mother walked in, her eyes still tired with sleep. "Katsu?"
He blinked several times and then turned around. His mother stood in the doorway, her face sleepy, her hair tied in a loose ponytail.
"Katsu, it's so early." She went to him, wrapped in a bath robe knotted at the waist.
"Don't call me that." His voice came out defensive and low and gravelly. A harsh voice.
She settled one soft, featherlight hand on the top of his head and ruffled his hair. "What's wrong?" She always knew when something was wrong with her boy. She usually only dished out tough love and small little smacks upside the head whenever he acted up, but on the brink of peaceful sleep she was kind and motherly. Before he turned eight or so she was always very kind and loving towards him... until he became a demon spawn and blew up everything in the household whenever he was told no.
"Nothin," he said gruffly and got up, brushing her off. "'M fine. Gotta get ready for school."
"But you don't have to get ready until seven at the earliest. What's wrong? Tell me."
"I broke up with her."
She didn't need any more explanation. "Oh." She sat on the bed beside him and patted his back. "Why?"
"We're bad for each other. Don't wanna talk more, so leave me alone, you old hag."
"Don't call me a hag." She tried to give him a tough little hug but he backed out and glared at her until she finally sighed and left his bedroom.
Maybe he should go to a therapist. He's been acting odd ever since Saturday. Katsu, please get better before I die out of worry for you.
