Never Again (GETTING REWRITTEN)

Chapter One

Bakugou's P.O.V

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The alarm blared in my ears as he stirred from what felt like eons of sleep. Although the reality of it was there was barely any sleep involved. A lot of tossing and turning, waking up in a cold sweat, praying that no one heard the explosions that crackled from his palms. Rather than feeling refreshed, he only felt worse. Like he had been hit by a truck. Even as he forced himself to, at least, sit up his body begged him to lay back down – to get more sleep.

But he ignored it. It was all he could do. It was the first day back at school since the incident. He couldn't miss it. Yet, when he turned his head to the side, finally grabbing his phone to turn off his alarm, he was hit with the shocking truth. "Shit."

He was late. Class started in five minutes. Five. He was still barely awake. No matter how quickly he got changed, the journey from the dorms to class wouldn't change anything.

He was screwed.

Still, his body, despite his shock, did not let him move very fast. He got up slow, he walked slow, his limbs moved slow. His head pounded and throbbed as he did so. He tried but looking in the mirror, it was obvious. The bleak, tired expression he wore was a dead giveaway. It highlighted the deathly look in his eyes, the zombie-like expression that showed he had barely slept a wink. He struggled to button up his shirt, he had almost given up, almost. If only he hands would have stopped shaking he would have been ready quicker, he wouldn't have felt the need to go without his precious breakfast.

He walked and walked, ignoring his legs that moved stiffly and his heart that thumped to keep up with him. If it hadn't been for that day. He would be fine. It was just like last time. The exact same. The haunting nightmares. It followed him everywhere like a plague. It stuck to him, struck him even when he wasn't asleep.

Just like last time – it would go away. Eventually. That didn't make it any less annoying and exhausting.

"Why are you late?", his homeroom teacher asked the minute he slammed the door behind him yet did not once look up from whatever he was looking at.

Katsuki grumbled, like hell he was about to say he woke up late. He was fairly certain Aizawa didn't care all that much anyway. It was easy to tell – just look at him.

Although he could feel eyes boring into him as he slumped into his seat. The level of interference in class 1-A was ridiculous, always curious, always wanting. He didn't even want to know who kept their eyes trained on him as their teacher began to drone on.

Hell, getting two holes drilled into the back on his head was the bane of his existence. He thought the lack of sleep was getting to him but, no, really someone was staring at him.

He wasn't one to care but he cared. Right now, he hated it more than anything. The constant feeling of being watched, eyes following him around. They were there even when they weren't. It was hard to discern fake from reality.

Katsuki's leg began to bounce under the desk. Was it just Deku? He had a habit k
of staring. Or Kirishima? Maybe he knew, he was looking at him out of pity and concern. Or maybe there was no one. It was merely something he felt. Something he imagined. It wasn't real.

It wasn't real. It couldn't have been.

Yet, to make sure, he turned his head. Turning around and scanning the room. It was ridiculous. He really doubted anyone was really looking at him that intensely. There was no way.

Then he made eye contact. Two-mismatched eyes at the back of the class locked with his red ones. Katsuki glared, glowered, grimaced; he stared, searched.

"Bakugou, turn around.", Aizawa muttered and he did so with a click of his tongue. Why? Why was he looking at him?

Somehow the thought of him looking at him relaxed him more than thinking it was merely his poor imagination. It was a relief that he truly was not crazy. It wasn't in his head. It was real but it was only a classmate. It was just Icyhot.

At some point Katsuki found himself dozing off, he tried his best to keep his heavy, falling eyelids from closing and even then, the teacher's voice was so monotonous that he did what he didn't want to. He fell asleep.

Until the bell for break sounded through the halls, waking him up from a much needed rest.

"Yo! Bakugou!", Kirishima dragged a desk to shuffle against his. "I'm sorry man, I would have woken you up if I knew your alarm didn't go off. I thought you left without me."

"What the hell are you talking about?", Katsuki grumbled, he really said the most stupid jargon. His alarm didn't go off? It definitely had.

Kirishima sipped on a straw, a carton of strawberry milk he got every break time. "Hm? Did you just forget to—"

"BOO!", Kaminari jumped out from behind him, firmly placing his hands on Katsuki's shoulders. If it wasn't for the fact the boy stumbled, he would have gotten a full face of explosions. Still, the smoke cleared and there was a clear burn mark on the boys hand.

Not at all what he intended. It wasn't. It really wasn't. His body had moved on its own before he could think. His words harsher than he had meant. "I'll fucking kill you if you do that again, fuck-face."

"Dude– chill, it was only a—", but Katsuki was already out of the door, slamming it behind him.

Katsuki was storming his way down the hall, not caring about bumping into anyone he passed. He hated it. He hated it. Hated it. The way his skin flared, the irritation, the hairs that stood on end. Katsuki didn't know what else to do but hide on the unused stairs, holding a hand to his mouth, writhing. He hated it.

There wasn't a single word that could describe it. The shivering of disgust, the irritation of the skin that hated touch, the need to itch it. He tried. He mustn't itch it, his legs wouldn't stop shaking to combat it. He clenched his jaw, trying to stop the heavy breathing and the tears that streamed down his face anyway.

He hated it. His body reacted in a way he couldn't control. He didn't know what to do at all. Even as he gave in and itched his shoulders, it wouldn't go away. It wouldn't leave. He could only cry in frustration, letting out obscene sounds he wished he never heard come out of his own mouth.

"...Bakugou—?"

///
1161 words

A/N: I surprised myself when I felt like rewriting this. It's a bit different of course. I last wrote this bsck in 2019? I was 13 then. Obviously it was horribly written, the old version will be perminently gone but I'll keep the pics on for nostalgia reasons ig (cba to get rid of them)