Tics and Scratches

Bonus 1

Hi everybody! I've been getting really bored recently and felt drawn to this story again so decided to try writing a few one-shot style bonus chapters. These will not be in any specific timeline order so if anyone has any particular requests on extra bits and bobs they want to read then feel free to put it in the comments! This could be anything from scenes/themes from the main story you want looking into further or ideas you have for the future of the Yamada-Aizawa household. Hope you all enjoy this short beginning piece :) (take this as a thank you for almost 100K reads as well!!!)

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Katsuki is not a crier. Well that's a lie. He hasn't been a crier since his adoptive family began carefully sewing the pieces of him back together. His first few months in the Yamada-Aizawa household had been difficult to put it lightly. With the reveal of quite literally all of his secrets, the rushed adoption and finally the court case he had been forced to endure in order to get his parents to stop obsessively sending him revolting messages, it was safe to say that most nights had ended with tears and comforting hugs for a good few months. It hadn't just been difficult for the young blonde though, seeing the previously (seemingly) unwaverable boy break down so often had taken a toll on the rest of the family as well, meaning Katsuki was often not crying alone. But they had made it through together and as soon as his life had settled down a bit they had found that Katsuki went back to a slightly less emotionally constipated version of his previous self. That didn't mean that Katsuki didn't have hard weeks, or even months however, and this came to a rather abrupt peak in the holiday before the beginning of his and Hitoshi's second year at UA. 

Katsuki grunted as his fist flew towards his chest yet again, thumping squarely against the dark purple bruise that already resided in that particular position (and had done for the past week.) He had been going through a rough patch with his tics since school had finished for the holidays, the lack of work leaving his brain bored and acting out. He knew the ebbs and flows in tic intensity were part of Tourette's syndrome, but that didn't mean that it wasn't disappointing when a light tic period turned into a heavy one, especially when the heavy periods just never seemed to end. The frustration had been building deep in his chest for a while now, rolling in waves just how it always used to when he was mere minutes away from snapping at Deku. Another hit to his chest had him stifling a yelp as a dull pain radiated throughout his torso, causing the wave of frustration to almost come crashing down.

"Think it might be time to put the gloves on, bud." Shouta called from the kitchen, having heard the grunts of pain and dull smacking from the next room. 

 Katsuki already felt guilty considering that Hizashi had been forced to escape to his bedroom about 15 minutes earlier after his incessant whistling tics had began to set the older man off as well. But the guilt only grew stronger as he felt irritation creep into his stomach at Shouta's suggestion. He shouldn't feel annoyed, the man did nothing but care for him and that is exactly what he was doing in that precise moment. But Katsuki hated the padded gloves. Yes, they minimised the damage he did to himself when he went through the periods of time when he had these stupid stupid stupid  hitting tics. But they made him feel so young and trapped. So fragile. 

At first he made no move to get the gloves but after a few more thumps, Shouta peered his eyes around the door that connected the kitchen to the lounge and Katsuki swore the man was somehow staring into his soul. The blonde just rolled his eyes and stood up, practically storming over to the draw where they kept all their first aid gear, pulling on the specially made gloves. Only after having a tic throw them across the room first. Obviously. When he turned around to glare snarkily at Shouta, he saw that the older man had already retreated back into the kitchen and he felt his irritation morph into something darker and sadder.  They'd had the gloves made specially for him, laced with some unique material that meant his sweat wouldn't gather and explode unprompted while he was wearing them. They'd probably cost an arm and a leg and yet he was still trying to throw attitude about having to wear them. He could feel tears beginning to well in his eyes at the whole situation, but he swallowed them back down, determined to not cry over something so trivial. He reasoned that he was just tired and frustrated at how bad his tics had been lately, no reason to warrant crying. So he sat back down on the sofa, arms crossed as he sulkily carried on with his sudoku, waiting impatiently for Hitoshi to come back from hanging out with Dunceface.