shades of green (to paint my blues away)

..

"Hey, Bakubro!" Kirishima says, voice cheerfully bright as he pats Katsuki on the shoulder before passing him to head to the kitchen. Katsuki pointedly avoids looking up, simply letting out a faint grunt of acknowledgement.

Katsuki hears the footsteps stop for a moment, then turn and head closer to him. Katsuki hates the way bile crawls up to the back of his throat.

"Hey man," Kirishima says, voice carefully gentle. "You okay?"

Katsuki wills his voice to not waver as he clicks his tongue in feigned indifference. "I'm fine, Shitty Hair."

There's silence, but Kirishima doesn't make any move to leave.

"Look at me, Bakugo?"

Katsuki takes in a sharp inhale, purposefully keeping his eyes averted from Kirishima's. Don't look, don't look, don't fucking look—

"Did...did I do something?" Kirishima asks, voice laced with hesitancy and hurt. "Are you mad at me?"

Katsuki's eyes widen, head snapping up automatically to find Kirishima's face and tell him no, he didn't do anything, he—

Ah, shit.

Kirishima is sitting on the couch beside Katsuki, head tilted slightly and his face completely gone.

Him too, huh? Doesn't surprise me...

Kirishima's eyes, nose, and mouth are all missing from his face—almost as if someone grabbed a wet cloth and squirted some dish soap and rubbed furiously at Kirishima's face. Katsuki kept staring, hating the way his shoulders sagged slightly in relief at the sight of the faintest outlines of Kirishima's eyes, wide and likely filled with worry.

"If you can see a faint outline of their face, then they do love you, but it is not unconditional love," Aizawa had said, his blank face facing downwards towards the manilla that contained the specifics of the Quirk that Katsuki had been hit by.

Ever since that general course extra accidentally hit Katsuki with their quirk yesterday, Katsuki's been surrounded by a sea of blank faces—not a single thing to possibly indicate what expression they have on their faces. Obviously, he went to Aizawa right away—whose face was also blank, though Katsuki could see the faint outline of his eyes and mouth.

"Their Quirk is called Truthful Eyes. The person who is hit by it can only clearly see the faces of people who love them unconditionally."

Katsuki let out a long sigh, eyes looking away from Kirishima. "It's not you, it's me. It's just..."

For a moment, Katsuki considers telling Kirishima. About the Quirk. About what it does. About the gaping lack of eyes and mouth on his face.

With that comes the reaction Katsuki expects from Kirishima—surprise, concern, hurt.

Pity.

No. He can't say anything to anyone. They'll all just feel bad and pity him, just like his parents did.

He thought video calling with them would be a good idea, and it was, at first. The relief that washed over Katsuki at the sight of his parents' expressions—sharp and clear as day—was a sensation beyond words. It didn't last long, though, because they both were able to tell that something was wrong. The damn hag and old man knew him too well.

Naturally, Katsuki attempted to change the topic and deflect the question. He didn't get his stubbornness from nothing, though—his parents insisted on the fact that Katsuki's wasn't alright, and that something must've happened.