COLLIDE. // Bakudeku

Anymore.

LIGHT ME UP in a spoon and melt me,
Inject me and breathe me in,
Let me inch across you with an itch
Let me slip into you, smoke thin

I want to share the joy you get
From something that rips your skin,
Because a part of me
Needed therapy
Before you ever even walked in.

I find myself becoming so jealous of
The things that destroy you,
I've done well at fooling myself
That I've been in your shoes.

What Katsuki found to be the most annoying thing about living, was the fact that breathing was somewhat obligatory. There were times when he was grateful for the ability to subconsciously do it (since the reminder helped calm his anxiety attacks down), and there were other times it made him feel trapped.

Katsuki had his first anxiety attack at the age of thirteen. He'd been in an awful falling out that had escalated into a full-on fist fest.

"Katsuki. Do you want to explain to me why you've been suspended?"

Katsuki gritted his teeth as tears threatened to escape his eyes, his head hung low. "You already fucking know why."

"Don't give me that fucking tone, brat!" Mitsuki Bakugou slammed the kitchen table, making the dishes and glasses on it clink noisily. Her nostrils were flared, her jaw was clenched, and her spiky blonde hair bounced as she jerked her head. Masaru, her husband, flinched at the outburst.

She eyed her partner's meek reaction and sighed, closing her eyes before reopening them. With a more subdued (but still edged) tone, she said, "You know what I mean, Katsuki. We were only given a half-assed summary of the situation." She rose her brows. "How did this fight happen?"

Truthfully, the cause was so stupid to Katsuki it made him sick. He'd been looking a tad too long at a classmate from two seats over. The boy caught him looking, accused him of being a 'digusting homo' that would spread his disease to him, and got a few of his shitty little lads to join in on the name-calling.

Bakugou broke the fucker's nose and almost crushed his leg under the weight of his black boot. Naturally.

It was so stupid, Katsuki thought. But that didn't stop a part of him, a twisted part, from replaying the satisfying crunch of a nose over and over in his head. If the teachers were a little bit more late, he would've gotten to see more tears run down the fucker's face. That fucking bastard deserved it.

"He said," Katsuki said, his voice now firm and his eyes dry as he raised his head to look Mitsuki in the eye, "that I was a queer. That I'm full of nasty germs that are gonna spread to him if I don't stay the fuck away. I'm a creep. I've been staring at him for days now, weeks now, he says."

Mitsuki tensed.

"But I keep wondering, 'what's the deal if I look at him', you know?" He looked at his father, his face blank. "I didn't ask though. I shut the fuck up because I've been in too many fights with too many of these cunts, so everyone's got their eyes on me. Because I'm the issue. Because I will always be an issue." He blinked. "But then he got his friends in on it. So he got what he asked for, really."

Silence fell over the room.

"Katsuki," Masaru finally said, trying to give some insight, "What that kid did is unacceptable, and we'll be sure to bring this to Mr. Izamashu. You should never be experiencing something as hateful as that."

"But," he continued a bit timidly, adjusting his glasses, "I'm sure you know that violence, especially of that degree, is never something that should be a choice. It's hard to, I know, but you've got to learn to control your anger and ignore those kids. Otherwise, you'll lose your say." He glanced at Mitsuki. "Your mother and I will do our best to make sure any issues are limited as possible."