your version of the sky - k. bakugou

01 - sunrise.

Katsuki Bakugou had come to know that, from a very young age, music was the best possible escape. 

From friends, from family. 

From the world. 

A song equals a short, three or four minute break (sometimes five) from this reality that he called his. 

He didn't feel obligated to tell people he loved a certain band. A band that should have been his and his alone. He didn't feel the need to tell everyone he loved certain genres. He didn't, because for a moment, it was just his. Even if there were a million other people listening to it at the same time, he felt lost in his own world of notes and vocals and beauty. 

And he was determined to keep those moments just his. So when his friends would pry and annoy him, asking relentlessly as to what he might be listening to, Katsuki would snap harder at them than before. 

Because it was his moment to be alone. His moment to not be scared of the daydreams to come. 

It was why he loved mornings like this. Mornings where he felt like he was seeing the sun for the first time. 

When hues of orange and pink spilled across his floor and everything was quiet except for his headphones, the volume maxed out with one of his many playlists he'd been keeping on repeat for quite a while. 

He swiped at the mirror, foggy from the scalding shower he'd finished just minutes ago, and took in his face of pale skin and his eyes of crimson red.

While Katsuki never cared much for his looks, he knew that he wasn't ugly. His skin was smooth, free of blemishes. His lips a soft pink. 

It wasn't his body or his face or his hair or anything like that. None of that had ever made him insecure. 

It was the idea that someone was ahead of him. It was how everyone was gushing over them. Watching them with awe in their eyes because suddenly, Katsuki's acceleration in comparison to the rest of his class was old news. 

He was no longer the best. 

Well, he was. He was just a boring kind of best. 

The kind of best his peers now rolled their eyes at. Because never once have they seen him fail at something. They were used to Katsuki being Katsuki. And, unfortunately, he was a winner no matter what he did. 

But then comes a stranger with a strange talent. 

You weren't smart, you weren't pretty, you weren't anything. 

So he couldn't see why everyone was so damned obsessed with you. Why was everyone always thinking about your face? About your skills with those purple arrows you formed out of nowhere and your incredible focus to keep your quirk in place and your phenomenal attention to detail... 

And how your quirk was operated by music. 

You stuck those wireless earbuds in and blasted away, thin, purple arrows flying in time with your arms precisely to the beat of the song you were listening to. 

Well, it wasn't operated by music. But manipulating your arrows was difficult and required a lot of focus...or so he had heard. Listening to music helped reduce your headaches and loosen you up. 

Katsuki clenched his fists. He felt foolish for knowing so much. For caring so much. But he wasn't stupid enough to pretend he wasn't focused on you. 

He stretched out his muscles, groaning at the soreness that lingered. Despite the constant scolding he gave Kirishima to not overwork his quirk, Katsuki was a hypocrite. But how else could he get any better?