Bad decisions

by valstrk

Summary:

After a series of bad decisions, Bakugo Katsuki meets a dark-haired, half-burned stranger with turquoise eyes that make him shudder.

Who would have thought that this stranger would actually be the villain who kidnapped him from his summer camp?

"I told you, either I make you redeem yourself, or I'll send you to Tartarus myself. You, and your League of Idiots," he assured confidently.

"Good luck with that, honey," he mocked.

Yes, Katsuki would take on this challenge. Maybe it will be more complicated if they fall in love.

Chapter 1: the beginning

He knew he was a complicated person; he'd been told that enough times throughout his life not to.

There was something running through him from the moment his quirk began to manifest. It was clear it would be explosive, it matched his quirk, ¿no? It was clear that he would be explosive if the person who raised him, his mother, was as explosive as he was, ¿no?

At first, his quirk was great. He received praise for everything he did, no matter what it was. He used to look up to All Might, all his fights—all his wins, of course, because he was him, the number one hero, the symbol of peace. He wanted to be like him, just as strong, and win no matter how adverse the circumstances. With a quirk like his, he could be.

It would be. It would be even stronger than him.

But no matter how strong he wanted to be, no matter how hard he tried, he was weak.

It became clear to him the day that damn Deku reached out to him as he fell into the lake.

Deku , he thought, savoring that acidic word in his mind.

That day, no one had doubted that he was fine, no one worried, because he was strong; but of course, Izuku was the exception to the rule, reminding him every day, just by looking at him, he realized how weak he himself was. He reached out, genuinely concerned for his well-being, as if he were weak, as if he were going to get hurt.

That day was the day he realized he was weak, very weak.

But no matter how much he said or did, Deku kept going chasing him forreach him, like a constant reminder that he couldn't let his guard down and that he had to try harder, since he was always trying to outdo him. He'd even told him to kill himself, damn it, he was out of his mind.

Now, they ran side by side.

Deku was having a hard time. The useless guy who told him he didn't have a Quirk was having a hard time. And so were all his classmates, the four-eyed guy and the half-and-half.

His instability and poor emotional control were already enough before he entered UA, but upon entering, everything he had left was destroyed. He wasn't even that strong, that smart, or that skilled. He was still better than most, but it was a never-ending competition, one he doubted he'd win.

He still remembers the sports festival, how he won in the eyes of the world, but in his own eyes, he had lost. The useless half-and-half saw him as so weak that he didn't use fire on him, and at first, he fainted; Uraraka, with her trump card up her sleeve, almost destroyed him, almost. They booed him, called him a villain, and a bunch of other shit he didn't want to remember, but it ate away at his brain day and night, so much so that he thought it would fry like Foolface.

He had declared that he would win, and that he would be the best of all. He had backed himself into a corner.

And then they chained him up like a fucking dog without taming the critical eye of the media and the heroes who had previously booed him on national television.

This led to the fourth hero calling him to intern with him. He tried everything to change his attitude, but he doubted he'd ever met anyone as stubborn and proud as him. He couldn't achieve anything with his tight jeans and hairstyles that required pounds of gel to control his crazy hair.

In the end, it was a completely useless week, and his other classmates had moved on, leaving him behind.

But however useless it may bewould acclaimthat had been, Best Jeanist had helped him start to see the world a little differently, he hoped that the next time they had internships or practices, they could fight too, he wanted to see the very number 4 hero in action, by his side. Yes, the heroe had dug deep into the blond's heart with a few simple words.

 

He turned his gaze to the blackboard in front of him and refocused on the class Midnight was teaching. He hurriedly took notes and scolded himself for not paying attention; since he was supposed to be the best of all these idiots, if even the damn grape-head paid more attention than him, well, when he looked at him, he realized he wasn't paying attention exactly to class, suppressed a grimace of disgust, and forced himself to stop rambling and pay attention again. Wait, what were they studying? Oh, surrealism.

As the first hours of the day passed, he and his gang of idiots headed to his academy's beloved cafeteria. While his friends discussed their classes, he rambled on, as he had been doing lately. Kirishima had approached him several times a week to ask if he was okay, concerned about his health, and assuring him that he could count on the group, and more specifically, on him. The boy was incredibly loyal, special, and everyone noticed; how the redhead had struck a chord with Katsuki.

He analyzed his friends carefully.

Kirishima made eyes at the pink alien.

The dumbface was making eyes at ears

And the soyface looked beyond his table, to a table of girls from 1-B.

Okay, I understand , he thought.

He felt slightly out of place; so much love seemed repugnant, unnecessary. It was a distraction from his goal, a goal he'd pursued for as long as he could remember. But he caught himself, as he had many times before, thinking how wonderful love would be, to have someone to love you, someone to love.

He loved winning, but maybe winning didn't love him that much. Not with all the losses he'd been taking lately.

Soon his stomach closed, for his thoughts were eating away, so much so that it overwhelmed him brutally. He stood up from the table, apologizing to Kirishima, and making obscene gestures to his friends who reproached him for abandoning them, and he didn't know what else. It didn't matter.

He walked through the hallways, empty of noise and people, which made him even more nervous. He needed air, so he guided his feet toward the endless stairs that led him to the rooftop. Even though the door explicitly stated that students weren't allowed, like half the rules in life, he didn't care and kept going.

The UA was too high, with too many floors, and as he approached the edge and sat down, he could see how everything from there seemed simply tiny and insignificant; the breeze moved his hair lightly, refreshing his body and mind of all ills. He could feel a little freedom. He put on his headphones and played his playlist at full volume.

Up there, he could feel the little calm that dwelled in his body instead of the anger that usually gnawed at him. He lay down on the hard cement that surrounded the edges of the building, and if he squinted, he could avoid the bars and pretend they weren't there to prevent any accidents. He had to come here more often, he thought; it was nice to be alone and at peace; no one told him that he was left behind, no one reminded him how imperfect he was, how weak… he growled. His mind was his worst enemy.

He had a good quirk, a good financial situation, he was on his way to fulfilling his dreams, his parents, despite the old witch, loved him, he was even forming a sincere group of friends, who were all healthy and had the same dreams, unlike in Aldera, where he was surrounded by bad influences. Now, he was the bad influence; foul-mouthed, disrespectful, he made no effort to wear a uniform, there was not a hint of innocence in his eyes, nor in his way of acting, nor in his speech... he fought, hit and yelled, those who approached him did so for the fun of making him angry (if they ran too fast) or to tame him like a dog.

His mind was his worst enemy , he repeats. Sometimes he got so caught up in his negative feelings that life took on a different shape. His friends reached out to him because they cared about him; Aizawa and Best Jeanist wanted to help him improve and pursue his dreams.

He looked down from the top of the UA, reflecting.

He would be the best hero in the world, he would be better than All Might, even if All Might didn't look at him.He would excel and pass the end-of-semester exams with a perfect grade, both on the written tests and the practicals. He would pass the damn deku, the half-and-half, and no one would question how good and sufficient he was, so much so that not even his mind could deny it.

He looked at his watch, seeing that the back-to-school bell had, in fact, already rung. He became alarmed and quickly gathered his things, hurrying and skipping down the stairs two at a time. Aizawa was going to scold him, ask where he'd been.

He hurried to his classroom and opened the door where Aizawa was already standing, explaining today's exercise. When he was interrupted, he turned around and stopped explaining, raising an eyebrow at Bakugo.

The blond man walked across the room to his seat, where he deliberately sat down. He looked straight ahead and met his teacher's gaze, who seemed quite serious about the lack of respect. Oh, shit.

—The time, Bakugo— he said, tiredly.

"I didn't realize, okay?" he replied, trying to sound as calm as possible.

"Next time, you'll come to my office," he scolded, and he didn't even deign to respond, just looked away. He noticed the surprise in his professor's eyes, but he didn't say anything. Today, he didn't feel like arguing.

 

After Aizawa explain today's work assignment, which was defense and attack practices in duos, turned around to confirm that he would do it with Kirishima, as always; he was already looking at him with a radiant smile and approached to bump fists with him while saying “let us strive, ¡bakubro!”   

Leaving the room, the redhead came even closer with every intention of asking.

 

“Bakubro, where were you?” he looked at him, waiting for him to tell her.

 

“It's not your problem, shittyhair” he replied, unwilling to chat for long; if he told him, they wanted to go there now, and he wouldn't be able to rest easily.

 

“Okay, okay. But you're okay, right? Lately you've been…” he tried to speak, but the blond interrupted him.

 

“And what the hell do you care?” Gruff and cutting; always concerned, always on the lookout… Bakugo was annoyed, but he didn’t even know why; he was so weak, that they had to look at him with pity?

He couldn't stand the kicked puppy face the shark-toothed man made, of course.

 

“I'm fine, don't pity me, Ei " he ruffled his hair with the best smile he could muster, and he didn't regret it when the redhead smiled like his day had been brightened.

 

“Whatever you say, but here I am.” He put his arm around his shoulders in a loving gesture that dissolved seconds later.

 

“Tch, idiot,” he crossed his arms, but his friend had started talking about some stupid thing, and the soy sauce and the electric rat had joined in.

 

It wasn't such a bad workout, he supposed. No if he didn't have any company.

 

Maybe I should get out more.

 

His friends were kind, funny, and very, very idiots. They would try to understand and help him, but of course they couldn't. They were a good support, though; he allowed himself to smile slightly.

 

The afternoon passed quickly. He returned home on a disgustingly crowded bus where everyone recognized him. He listened to loud music and ignored his surroundings until he got home.

Lucky for him, his parents were in Venice for work, and he could relax, free from the yelling and distractions that weren't helping him. He did his homework, cooked, planned his workouts for the week, prepared some exam topics, and even took a bath. All because he didn't want even a second of silence for his mind; that's when his restlessness began should fill in those blanks to be more than enough and be able to get ahead.

 

It was nighttime, he'd already had dinner and gone to bed; the lights and his phone were off, his alarm already set early in the morning to follow a demanding routine…

 

But there he was, tossing and turning in his sheets,snuggling, stretching, adjusting the pillow as if it were his fault Katsuki's inability to sleep. He felt himself starting to sweat, summer had just begun; his palms were itching and he felt an itch spreading throughout his body. To say he was uncomfortable was an understatement compared to the restlessness and anxiety he felt right now. He estimated he'd checked the time on his alarm clock about seven times, berating himself for feeling that way, for being that way.

 

He was soon inundated by a tsunami of thoughts he had been avoiding all afternoon. Was this when they were taking their toll? oh really?

 

He thought and thought, not being able to sleep made him even more worried, because...as could he get up tomorrow to carry out his routine, if he didn't even sleep?

 

Like a light bulb that turned on, his brain finally reasoned something useful.

 

He would go for a run for a while, and kill two birds with one stone. He would be tired enough to sleep, and even if he slept later, he could get up later because he wouldn't have to run in the mornings. Simply perfect . 

 

The only thing that might be a risk is that he'd have to run across the city. But that was fine, he convinced himself, Musutafu was an extremely safe city, with heroes everywhere, and besides, he knew the area well enough not to get lost. He wasn't going to get lost if he knew the city like the back of his hand; he always knew where, how, and when.

 

It's not like he had any other choice, since he doesn't believe the UA would open its training camp and gyms at 11 p.m. No, he's pretty sure they wouldn't...

 

He got to work, putting on some athletic shorts and a sleeveless sweatshirt, not wanting to blow up the city, not today. He put on his most comfortable running shoes, his headphones, his cell phone, and some money to buy something to drink if he got thirsty. Ready, he headed out while plugging his headphones back into his phone, turned the volume up to maximum, and started running.

 

He headed toward the main streets of the city, where the lighting made it hard to know it was so late, if it weren't for the few people who lived there. Of course, it's not like a Tuesday at 11 p.m. was a great time to go for a run.

 

He immersed himself in the breeze that hit him as he ran, the pain in his legs, the music playing, and the feeling of warmth that embraced him. He looked at the buildings that rose above him, so tall they touched the clouds; the agencies, the signs, advertising for various brands, and many billboards with colorful LED lights that made his eyes hurt if he stared at them. The city was beautiful, and even more so at night. He would have to do this more often, as it had been a while since he had enjoyed something so much. Lately everything was routine and bored , he thought.

 

He liked adrenaline, experiences and if it sounded dangerous, even better.  

 

He ran until he realized that he had actually reached the strange part of Musutafu, the one his mother avoided if she could, a more humble area and one that decent people didn't go to, or so the mothers of his classmates said when he was in primary school. It always seemed stupid to him, because he used to come with his two stupid friends to play rickety games on crappy machines, or to faded parks where no one went, where no one could bother them with the stupidity of little kids. Maybe he could understand why he had a reputation as a delinquent, one that got worse at UA, it didn't matter, everyone could go fuck themselves since he was the best.

 

He went a little further, reaching the door of a place that looked like a bar. He took off his headphones to be more alert, but it didn't help much, because the music coming from there was enough to drown out his surroundings and any sounds he should be worried about. He looked at the door; there was no guard, no one watching. He could easily get in.

 

Were him really thinking of going to a party?

 

Him, Bakugo Katsuki, the one who fell asleep at 8 pm?

 

It sounded so crazy; but people took refuge in things that were perhaps not so healthy because they felt better, but what was wrong with sitting there enjoying the atmosphere? Not even one drink would ruin his life, nor would he become an alcoholic. He could even dance; Raccoon Eyes danced, and she said it helped clear her mind…

 

His ideas were hardly understandable and his thoughts very similar to a rather questionable attempt at self-convincing, but where else could he find someone who understood his problems, if not in a seedy bar in the dangerous part of the city? Because to go out to party on Tuesday …  

 

He wasn't one to judge, he decided, because that's exactly what he was going to do. Ridiculous.

 

I'd already been around idiots in high school, it couldn't get any worse than this. Kariage with his constant cigarettes and Dehisa, who only took them around town to see girls. The only thing he could thank them for was his resistance to the smell of a cigarette and the discovery that he didn't like women at all. Even they might come to understand him, ¿no? Kariage maybe could. After all, he had been her first teenage love.

 

Maybe he could even flirt with someone and feel, at least for a while, what he saw in his friends. He wasn't looking to fall in love, of course; it was pointless and it would derail him.

That there was saying father about hormones? oh yeah,that's it made him even more susceptible…

 

Let's do it, he thought, and went into the bar.

 

── .✦. ──── .✦. ────

 

It wasn't so bad, he had sat at the bar and ordered water, yes, water , it wasn't because of his inexperience, or even his weakness for drinking; he just wasn't in the mood yet, he repeated to himself, looking for an excuse for his miserable drinking. He tried to watch how the others were dancing, and it sounded like a loose rhythm they were coordinating with the bass of the music that was playing so loud it felt like it was bursting his ears. He played with his arm while he looked around the room, immersed in the atmosphere; the music was good, and no one had recognized him, and if they had, no one had said anything, not even a second glance. Fuck, he felt good enough. He was happy.

 

He saw in the distance a guy with black hair, similar to his own, turquoise eyes that shone in the occasional light, eyes that hypnotized him. As he got closer, he saw that his face was literally burned; patches of purplish skin were held together with surgical staples. If he slightly lifted the sleeves on his arm, he could see more burned skin that seemed to extend above his wrist. His ears were full of piercings and on his nose, on one side only, he had three. He looked at him, slightly terrified, but he felt more horror inside, because it didn't seem right to him. It's unpleasant to look at. He quickly looked away and scolded himself for staring so blatantly at a stranger who was probably in his late twenties, if not older. He conjured the image in her mind and took it all in: faded jeans with a belt, the waistband of his boxers slightly visible, a black tank top, and a matching jacket, which seemed to hide most of the burns on his arms and torso.

 

God help him, because his burns made him look too much fine; but it must hurt like hell, he supposed. He would have felt sorry for him if it weren't for the lust clouding his thoughts.

 

Shit, shit, shit.

 

He had sat down next to him, and he could feel his burning gaze. Everything about him said fire; he decided to be brave, manly, as Kirishima would say, and turned to look at him very nervously. Because of their proximity, he could even smell his cheap cologne, the smoke from his cigarettes, and far below, another scent, the burning smell which he preferred to ignore.

 

Holy shit , he thought.

 

He didn't even look away when Katsuki looked at him, he had a disinterested smile, a few seconds passed where he stared at those irises that had something .

 

“Are you alone?” the stranger asked, his tone radiating the same disinterest as his smile.

 

"Uh, yeah" he took a while to answer, stuttering slightly. He felt his cheeks heat up, looked away, and stared at the man's hands, they were pretty , he thought; long, pale fingers, the veins standing out. He felt a deep sense of shame, because he, Bakugo Katsuki, was never embarrassed, or worse, stuttered. He felt a kind of self-loathing. He decided it was a good idea to snort in annoyance to hide whatever he had to hide, but it wasn't inexperience...

 

“I see. Why are you here?” he questioned, looking at him again.

 

"What do you care?" He was nervous as hell, and of course, he was always on the defensive; he expected the boy to back away, but he laughed at him. His frown deepened.

 

“How funny. You don’t look like you’re from around here.” He leaned an elbow on the bar with confidence, as if he owned the place.

 

“I’m from here,” he replied. The idiot continued to smile carelessly, and Katsuki grew more irritated.

 

“From this area?” he hesitated, pointing up and down.

 

"I'm from Masutafu" His frown deepened further, why was he asking so many questions and why the hell was he still wearing that smile?

 

“But not from this area. Do you drink?” he said, not really getting an answer, as he pulled out a couple of bills.

 

He hesitated before answering, he had never had alcohol, he didn't know he was supposed to choose, he was underage, he shouldn't... "Okay" he answered as convincingly as he could, ignoring that it sounded like he was trying to keep his oxygen, great, he thought, now it seemed like he was desperate and very excited by the unwanted attention of the intense being who was talking to him.

 

“So what are you having?” he called to the bartender, who was a different guy than the one who had given her the water; he assumed his shift had ended and another had started.

Wait, what was I going to take?

“Uh…” he hesitated, trying to decide what the hell he was supposed to say. “I haven’t had any alcohol,” he thought, but how could he possibly admit to something so embarrassing? “I don’t care,” he rolled his eyes. Yeah, that was much better.

The idiotic grin widened, and the burned skin puckered along with his staples. He noticed a flash of something in his eyes that he couldn't decipher, and swore he'd be attentive. "I see, how old are you? If you're under 18..." Well, that question definitely took him by surprise.

Think fast , he forced himself.

"Eighteen, recently turned," he lied blatantly, even with details. Yes, attention and logical thinking vanished as quickly as they had appeared.

“Oh, good. I’m glad.” He gave him a look. “Then I’ll have to choose something. It won’t be strong; you’re just blossoming into adulthood!” He teased him sarcastically as he ordered drinks, which he didn’t bother to listen to.

“Uh? Fuck off!” he yelled, making him chuckle softly. “What’s making you laugh so hard? Fuck!” he swore coming had been a good idea, that the guy was hot… but he was unbearable, and he hated how the fun flowed through his body too.

“You’re so tense! Are you always like this?” he questioned, but he didn’t have time to answer. “Did you commit a crime? Did you run away from home? Did you drop out of school?” he joked, dismissing it with his hand, but Katsuki wasn’t up for the sarcastic jerk who was increasingly annoying him. He didn’t want to agree with him, but his own aggressive responses, his upright posture, and fingers tightly gripping the bar weren’t helping; nor was the fun the man seemed to have, as if he were a fucking circus monkey.

“Oh, fuck off. I’ll beat you up,” he said. He hadn’t dropped out of school or committed any crimes, but… technically he hadn't run away from home either. A few minutes of what I considered uncomfortable silence passed, his leg tapping against the floor, his hands rhythmically hitting the dirty, sticky wood of the bar. God, how long could fucking drinks take? Was it always like this? Or was he the one making this uncomfortable?

“Hm, I bet you’re a good kid. You’re too tense… I’m sure you’re top of the class. You’ve chosen a good but rather difficult course. I still haven’t figured out your relationship with your parents, but I can see you’re pretty socially inept. Are you always like that, darling?” Out of nowhere, the idiot unleashed a monologue—apt, but I’d never accept it—and dared to call him inept, and darling; this man wasn’t normal. If I could define him in one word, it would be shameless.

His look and expression were incredulous. “What the fuck? Who asked you for your opinion? Hey, patches?!” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, about to leave, when suddenly the social pressure of not being able to beat up this idiot right there hit him. He’d get in trouble, and no one could or should know he was there, so he settled for a little shove, which didn’t seem to bother his companion one bit, who laughed as if he’d been tickled.

“Easy, easy. Look, let's drink this and dance,” he said as he dragged hiz drink across the bar. He smiled at him again, almost lazily.

Katsuki took his drink and observed it until he came to the conclusion that this shit was safe, according to his visual standards he drank a little, tasted it, found it wasn't that bad, and downed it in one gulp. He needed the confidence to put his pride aside. "I don't know how to dance. I've never been like that," he grunted.

“That’s no problem, honey. Come on, I’ll show you.” He downed his entire drink in one gulp and stood up from his seat. The blond’s brain had rebooted with the second "honey". Hot idiot.

He stood up awkwardly and took the patiently waiting hand. He allowed himself to be guided onto the dance floor. Soon, he found himself next to a crowd of people dancing furiously to the music. He felt the stranger's voice in his ear, his hot breath, and sensed the alcohol on him. He didn't mind. "Come, I'll guide you." He placed his hands, which were cold to the touch, on his hips and began to sway and move gently to the music. The hands moved him slightly, urging him to move too. After a while, he got the hang of it, and now they were dancing close together, his body pressed against the stranger's torso.

A stranger , he thought. He didn't know the idiot's name.

He turned around to ask, "Idiot, what's your name?" He stared into those eyes that were now fixed on him with an arrogant smile as he pressed his body against his, causing their private parts to touch. A small gasp of surprise escaped his mouth, and he blushed deeply when the black-haired man's hands began to snake down his lower back.

“ Dabi . You can call me Dabi” he savored the nickname in his mind and nodded, feeling Dabi’s face getting closer and closer.

It's going to happen, he's going to kiss me.

 

This was what he'd been looking for, a release. He felt a little sweaty, dancing, and a newfound confidence he'd never felt before.

This was what people did at parties, wasn't it? Meet someone, exchange a few words, and take them home. A slight discomfort gripped him as he remembered that, in reality, this wasn't his world or his way of acting; he was usually smarter than kissing a guy he'd practically just met. Although, in his most lucid moment of the day, aware of what he was doing, he decided he could give the opportunity to a stranger who didn't know him and whom he probably wouldn't see again; it was a risky bet, he supposed, since showing himself vulnerable in his position as a hero-in-training wasn't the best decision. But Bakugo was an emotionally unstable teenager who wanted to feel alive and free for a moment, and who better than a sarcastic stranger, who seemed to make bad decisions like him and who didn't freak out when he saw him? He decided, then, that it wasn't such a bad decision. Dabi, as much as he drove him crazy, was funny and insufferable, he was hot and scarred, in his eyes, he was perfect for him.

Okay, perfect was too much, it's not like they were going to fall in love for one night.

After what felt like an eternity, the stranger, no, Dabi, pressed his lips to his and began a dance between their lips that was slow and deep.

Soon they were kissing desperately, he stood on his tiptoes so he wouldn't have to bend over so much and put his arms around his neck. Dabi squeezed his ass and took advantage when he opened his mouth slightly in surprise to stick his tongue inside him and explore his mouth, starting a dance between both tongues; it was a hot kiss, the sound of their lips and tongues was lasciviously embarrassing, their teeth clashed from time to time in their haste and they only separated to take a break. They continued dancing, increasingly close; the atmosphere was heavy, between many people and the movement, the flashing and colored lights that surrounded them, the smoke from lit cigarettes and the caresses of like they made him feel slightly lost and warm. He sang along with the others to the songs that were playing, glued to the lips of the black-haired man, who also sang.

Dabi turned him over and Katsuki pressed himself against him, resting his head on his partner's shoulder and pulling his arm back, stroking the black-haired boy's hair. Dabi lit a cigarette and began to smoke it while with his other hand he continued to grope his entire lower abdomen. He felt like he couldn't take it anymore, he needed more, he wasn't stupid; he knew how this would end; he preferred not to think about it so as not to get nervous and ruin the moment. He continued dancing, vaguely thinking that maybe being able to fuck someone would be what he needed; the hormones, his father had said…

So he could calm down.

Dabi was special , there was something in it that was brutal and made him shudder. He was the definition of fire in every sense; his burns, his  humor, his words, the way he looked at him with lust. Everything seemed slow in it, but it burned; his skin was cold, almost icy, still burning. His almost empty, almost cruel gaze, his disinterested smiles and his perceptiveness would seem dangerous to him at an important moment, but they were strangers dancing together at a party, so he ignored it. His movements were as slow as their gaze, and his fingers traced rough lines all over his body with a delicate touch.

After a while, sweaty and agitated by the activity physics, turned around, to see the dazzling image of a sweaty, smiling Dabi with his cigarette dangling between his fingers, making him look even more attractive. Bakugo hated cigarettes and bad decisions, too focused for stupidity, but that dark-haired man made him feel strange and contradictory, and this definitely wasn't going to be a normal night. Only today, you won't see him again , he thought. Dabi had a raised eyebrow and an amused smile on his lips. “Come” he said pulling him towards him, took the cigarette from him and took a drag, brought him close enough so that their mouths were about to touch but he didn't mean to kiss him. He took his jaw and opened his mouth, blew the smoke in his mouth and Bakugo inhaled the smoke that made him burn. Dabi smiled and threw the cigarette away, stepped on it and guided him again.

This time he led him outside.

Was what he thought was about to happen about to happen?

Outside the establishment, Dabi had already let go of him, no longer needing to guide him. He followed him to a fairly ordinary motorcycle with a helmet hanging from it, which Dabi gave him to put on. “You’re a typical bad boy, huh?” he mocked to hide his nerves. It’ll happen.

Shit.  

 

“Funny. Hop on, come on.” He sat on the seat and supported the weight of the bike on one leg.

 

“Where are we going?” he asked, trying not to sound unsure or inexperienced, crossing his arms.

 

“Scared? Let’s go to my house. It’s not far, don’t worry,” he said, patting the seat behind him.

 

“Okay. You wish I was scared, asshole. Your face is horrified, but maybe if I close my eyes…” It was the ego, right there. But he was surprised to see Dabi throw his head back and look at him with a smile that seemed to enjoy his insults and attempts to anger him. He gave in and sat behind Dabi, helmet already on.

 

“You can hold on as tight as you want, princess. For a little while, I can be the stuffed animal you hug every night.” He saw him wink, and couldn't respond because he started the motorcycle and drove off. He thought he was very clever, the idiot. He is, the voice of reason in his head told him, but he chose to ignore it. Bakugo didn't hug stuffed animals when he slept, not anymore… only pillows.

 

From All Might. It wasn't any worse than the All Might stuffed animals hidden in a box under his bed, the ones he used to hug when he had nightmares as a child. He'd never tell anyone, but they'd be with him forever.

 

Needless to say, he was nervous; the bike was going incredibly fast, and he was sure they were going over the city speed limit. He pressed himself even closer against the dark-haired man's back and hoped he didn't notice, but in reality, Dabi seemed to be quite perceptive. He had given this stranger, whom he had met two hours ago at most, his first kiss, his first time drinking alcohol outside of parental supervision, he had smoked, and now he was about to take his virginity.

 

What the fuck.

 

Okay, he accepted that his decisions were for the little, questionable . 

 

But it didn't matter, he had already decided and Dabi felt good.  

 

The wind whipped around his body, but the motorcycle soon slowed down until it reached a building in an unfamiliar part of Musutafu. It looked a little old and run down, but he didn't care; Kirishima's or Midoriya's house were similar; not everyone had that much money. He hadn't had much faith in Dabi either, of course.

 

They got off and he gave him back the helmet, looking away due to the slight embarrassment that was quickly taking over. He watched him store the motorcycle in a storage room that the building seemed to have; Dabi looked at him and signaled him with his hands for him to come closer; he opened the door and they began to climb the stairs in a silence that made him uncomfortable, being so used to the noise. The man opened the apartment door and let him in, still silent. He heard the keys lock the door while he looked around the apartment, trying to disperse his nerves, which were making his palms sweat and his leg constantly move. It wasn't ugly , he thought; it was pretty tidy and clean, the living room decor was a bit basic, but it wasn't that bad either. He walked around the room and stroked the rough fabric of the armchair. He turned around and saw Dabi taking off his coat, placing it on the coat rack. Now all his burns were visible. Embedded in them, he stared at the staples and wondered what they felt like to the touch, if they hurt… How the hell had he ended up like this? How had he lived after that? Had a hero helped him?

 

His intuition told him he shouldn't ask that now if he didn't want to ruin what was coming. He looked up at him, and he was already looking at him, arrogant and with a raised eyebrow. He had leaned against the wall and had his hands in his pants pockets. His eyes burned, and the turquoise gleamed next to his staples. The dim light highlighted his muscles, and he could see the V-shaped line forming across his lower abdomen. he mentally cursed.

 

“Drool all you want blondie , just don't get my floor dirty," he said as he moved toward the only room besides the bathroom. His mind went blank, his face turning into a red mess of disbelief as he followed him, and he realized where they were going.

 

“You! You…” Fuck it, he couldn't think of anything and his heart felt like it was racing. He tried to stammer out some insult, but when it didn't come out, he indignantly reached out to grab the muscle-bound men by the neck. It never made it, and in the blink of an eye, Dabi had him pinned against the wall. What reflexes, he thought.

 

“Oh, I love them aggressive,” he purred cheekily, nuzzling his face into Katsuki’s neck and pressing his semi-erection against Katsuki’s ass. He tried to struggle but was pushed back just as quickly against the cold wall, pressed between it and Dabi. The movement caused friction and a traitorous gasp escaped his mouth. With an almost sadistic look, Katsuki realized at that moment the glint and dangerous aura emanating from the dark-haired man without even trying; he seemed to enjoy it, and traitorously, so did he. He wondered how normal that was, but lately he hadn’t felt very normal; he wouldn’t be doing stupid things like this if he really were. Dabi seemed to notice his pleasure with a mocking grimace that seemed to penetrate the depths of the blond’s soul.

 

“And you too. I see,” he whispered in his ear, running his tongue down his neck. He stifled another gasp and bit his lip. He squeezed his eyes shut, wondering why he enjoyed being so vulnerable in front of this man. he hated vulnerability, and it had led him to make shitty decisions and end up here, so why did he enjoy it?

 

“You taste so sweet,” he said, turning to kiss him languidly and slowly. He pressed even closer, causing Katsuki to feel even more desperate. Danger, he understood, was what made him feel this way.

 

he decided to rush the kiss, and Dabi smiled against his lips as he noticed her desperation, and also his erection.

The dark-haired man released him to guide him into the room, and a feeling of nervousness spread through his palms and chest. He felt it coursing through him, hampering his ability to think. He tensed again and looked around the room, slightly haunted. His posture straightened again, and he surreptitiously grabbed the hem of his shirt, which had been used for other types of training.

 

“You’re tense again. Are you sure you want this?” he stepped away from him and gave him space while he looked at him, waiting for an answer.

 

“Uh, I…” He reconsidered everything, he knew he wanted to go ahead, but his nerves and inexperience weren’t helping. “I… I’ve never been with anyone,” he said in an embarrassed whisper, as if being inexperienced was something to be ashamed of, but with all his classmates and friends in love, he felt that insecurity of being left behind again, even in sex. Frowning at the discomfort of the situation and the one he felt in his pants, he tried to look as confident as possible.

 

“Oh, okay. Sure, then?” didn’t seem to surprise him, and his response was overwhelmingly dry and emotionless. Katsuki nodded, and Dabi leaned in again.

 

He didn't kiss him, not yet. He held him by the hips and dug his hands into them, buried his head in his shoulder, and began to kiss him slowly. The blond ran his hands over his shoulder and began to twist his hands into the man's dyed hair, working harder and harder, pressing himself even closer to his neck and shoulder. He let himself enjoy it between gasps and ragged breaths that urged him to keep going.

 

Seeing that he was relaxing, Dabi finally moved away from his shoulder and slowly approached his face, looking at him with those electrifying eyes before kissing him, starting slowly and increasing the pace the more he got out of control; in the room only their breathing and the embarrassing sound of their lips and saliva fighting each other could be heard.

Before he knew it, Dabi was pushing him onto the bed. They moved closer with wobbly, desperate steps, without separating. He felt himself being gently pushed against the soft mattress and falling between the dark sheets of his companion's room. He smelled the faint scent of smoke and men's cologne, and watched as Dabi removed his clothes from his torso, exposing the burns and staples that attracted him so much.

 

He assumed Dabi was thin, and he was, but he also had muscle, quite defined. His abs and biceps stood out in the moonlight that streamed in through the open window. He looked into his eyes, which were almost empty, but with a glimmer of lust; this made him shiver, and he leaned back on his elbows, waiting for Dabi to come closer.

 

As he moved closer, Dabi straddled him, lowering himself until he felt his breath slow against his face from the closeness. In silent agreement, Katsuki straightened and let them peel his clothes off his torso, feeling a little embarrassed at being so exposed in front of a virtual stranger.

 

He'd never felt ashamed or insecure about his physique, quite the opposite; he didn't mind changing with the extras in the locker room or letting his friends watch him, asking for advice on how to increase his muscle mass. But this was different, and he felt vulnerable.

 

He raised his head and looked at Dabi, who seemed to want to eat him alive, without seeming surprised by his worked physique. He attacked his neck again, going lower and lower towards his pecs. His hands, icy to the touch, ran over his abs and massaged them, making him desperate and cling even more. He tangled his fingers in his hair again and closed his eyes, hoping Dabi wouldn't feel his heart beating shamefully in his mouth. The dark-haired man's tongue found his nipples and began to lick them in circles. It felt too good, he thought, arching his back closer to the other's body. He went slow, playing with his other nipple with his right hand, massaging and pinching lightly, sending electric shocks through his body.

 

"Mhm," he gasped, clutching the dark sheets that clung to them, his back arched, and Dabi playing with his nipples, drawing out gasps and ragged breaths. he continued kissing him, descending over his abs until he reached the strap of his underwear; he looked at him with those eyes, those eyes, silently asking for permission. How could he refuse those eyes? He couldn't, of course...

 

He stopped looking at him and ran his gaze towards the ceiling, pressing his head to the pillow he was leaning on. He felt him slowly take off his pants, enjoying his embarrassment. It took him a surprisingly long time to take them off completely; he took advantage of the time to grab a bottle with clear liquid inside, which he assumed was lubricant. As quickly as he left, he came back and finished undressing him. He felt him rise above him, he decided to open his eyes just to lock eyes with someone who was already looking at him, he saw how his gaze descended over his entire body, naked and surrendered to him, he placed his hands on his hips, holding him tightly before giving him one last look with a flash of controlled lust. He didn't look away as he went down and Katsuki thought he was going to die.

 

His erection was already dripping with anticipation, and Dabi seemed pleased. He took his cock in his hands and brought the head to his mouth, slowly running her tongue over it and tasting his precum. His head quickly twisted back, his eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment and shared pleasure, and his back twisted into a perfect arch; he couldn't believe his cock was being sucked. This had gone way beyond what he had intended, but more than regretting it, he was glad. He stopped thinking absurd things when he felt an overwhelming heat embrace his entire shaft. Assuming it was Dabi's mouth, he dared to look down. Dabi was still looking at him, attentive to his reactions. Whether he liked it or not, at that precise moment, he took him completely and Katsuki moaned loudly, his eyes turning white, lying back on the bed, refusing to let it happen again. What a shame, he thought, he had resisted enough, he couldn't go on like this.

 

Well, probably not, if Dabi kept taking him all the way in without even reacting. His body convulsed, and he bit his lip so hard he felt the metallic taste of his blood faintly flood his treacherous mouth, which only drew gasps and ragged breaths.

 

He heard the sound of the bottle opening, the liquid oozing out of Dabi's hand and closing again. He squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm not going to kill you, you know? I don't think I'm being so mean that it seems like I'm torturing you," he mocked with a smile.

 

Incredulous, he opened his eyes and saw the situation for himself, naked and lying at the mercy of the idiot who made shitty jokes at the worst possible times. “Fuck off, damn it,” Bakugo didn’t understand, and shame drove home the idea that he should just leave and pretend this hadn’t happened. He shifted uncomfortably in the sheets, realizing how exposed he was. He felt Dabi’s smile even though he wasn’t looking directly at him. He really enjoyed embarrassing him, didn’t he?

 

The black-haired man turned the bed, and suddenly took him completely again as if he were doing the easiest thing in the world. In surprise, he couldn't prevent the release of a high-pitched moan and lay back down, gripping the rough sheets as if his life depended on it. He felt Dabi's hot tongue wrap around his glans, wet and making sounds too embarrassing that made him throb with interest; his legs trembled slightly and his fingers twisted, he felt almost electric shocks of pleasure being sent throughout his body. He felt the black-haired man take one of his legs and lift it to his shoulder, and then how a wet finger played with his entrance. He preferred to pretend he didn't feel it, but when he inserted his finger, after much playing, he let out a gasp of surprise.

 

It didn't feel bad. It was weird, uncomfortable, and after a few seconds of stillness, Dabi began to push in and out at a steady pace, gradually increasing the speed. It didn't feel as great as he…

After Dabi pushed his finger in further, touching something, his back arched without even asking, and he felt something he'd never felt before. He moaned and whimpered unashamedly as Dabi inserted a second, lubed-up finger and hit that spot repeatedly. He began to masturbate him and inserted a third finger, continuing his work. Katsuki felt like he was on cloud nine, and no matter how hard he tried to control himself, he couldn't.

 

Dabi rose over him, continuing to penetrate him with his fingers, and played with his nipples a little, running his tongue over them and biting them lightly. He left them to grab a package from his nightstand, and Bakugo assumed that was about to happen.

 

he slipped his fingers inside him and quickly undressed, leaving him completely naked before him. He savored his entire body with his gaze and unconsciously licked his lips. When he looked down at his penis, he had a giant reality check when he thought that this was what was going to enter him in a few moments. Would it even enter? he panicked again. He realized that the hair there was white, not black; so he wasn't naturally dark-haired, he supposed.

 

He snapped out of his thoughts when he saw that Dabi had already put on the condom and was actually approaching him. He climbed onto the bed, sat down, and quickly spread his legs, pulling him towards him with his hands. The fake black-haired boy's hips were between his legs. He grabbed him by the hips and placed his penis at his entrance. He leaned back on Bakugo, using one of his arms as support so as not to crush him, and with the other hand he guided his cock. 

 

He began to enter him slowly, and it hurt Katsuki.

 

Her brow furrowed and he turned his head away so Dabi wouldn’t see his reaction. He felt a sharp pain and an uncomfortable sensation, tears stinging his eyes. “You’re too tight, relax. Otherwise, it’ll hurt even more,” he told him. To distract him, he ran his hands all over his body without breaking eye contact, and entered the hollow between his neck and collarbone to kiss and nibble. He decided to let himself go and with his fingers he gently outlined the muscles in his arms, chest, and shoulders. He touched his burns with a special softness, almost carefully. He observed the shine of the surgical staples and realized that they were colder than even Dabi’s body, but he stopped when he saw Dabi shudder under his touch, thinking that it hurt. He apologized and quickly pulled away, afraid of having ruined everything. “No, no. It’s okay, keep going.” This time, it was Dabi who sounded slightly choked up, and now he simply looked at him deeply, almost without blinking, not missing anything that the blond’s face reflected. “Okay, okay,” he gulped and continued touching him with fascination, still not understanding what Dabi was looking for in his face. He distracted himself by touching him, and also realized that the black-haired man’s body temperature was warmer now. Could he perhaps regulate his body temperature? Or was it the situation? Was it his quirk? Like Todoroki, maybe.

 

He got used to the sensation faster than he intended, or perhaps he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts, or rather, his companion's body to continue tensing under the new intrusion that made his body uncomfortable. He nodded to his partner to let him know he could move now, and Dabi began to thrust in and out of him repeatedly, calmly and slowly. The feeling of discomfort lingered slightly, but he chose to ignore it. He applied more lubricant and penetrated again; deeper each time, he assumed, searching for that spot he had previously touched with his fingers so he could begin in earnest.

 

Concentrated on his task, Dabi hovered over him deeply, the bed creaking slightly, and when he entered him again, adjusting the angle, making the blond's legs wrap around his back to have better access between his hips, he seemed to have hit the right spot, because he hit that spot again that made him shudder, writhe and let out a cry that he would be very ashamed of if he weren't in the situation he was in. He saw a victorious smile on Dabi's face, and a hungry look.

 

Now, he penetrated the blond with more intensity, drawing out moans that he could no longer control, but which he tried to suppress by putting his arm across his face, biting the skin hard, embarrassed. It didn't last long before Dabi removed his arm and held his face with his hands on his jaw so he could admire the fruits of his labor, he increased the speed, pounding him harder. The blond's vision was blurry, his cheeks were flushed and his mouth open, with a thread of saliva crossing all his lips, he writhed and held onto the first thing he found, he felt wet, and the splashing of both bodies was simply obscene, the headboard of the bed rhythmically hit the wall, and Dabi continued mercilessly. His body shuddered as Dabi's thrusts became faster and rougher, sighs and labored breaths came from the black-haired man's mouth, which increased the pleasure even more when he saw that his partner was also enjoying the encounter. Dabi’s hand gripped the backrest, seeking stability for the new angle he was looking for. He raised Katsuki’s hips and swung one of his legs over the outstretched arm holding onto the backrest, resting the anterior region of his knee on the anterior bend of his elbow. Feeling exposed and very embarrassed, he quickly looked away and arched again when Dabi thrust again mercilessly. This time, he began to masturbate him to the rhythm of the thrusts, overwhelming his brain in a way that he couldn’t form a coherent thought. He felt that electric burst forming, growing larger with each step Dabi took. His eyes turned white, his legs trembled, and a thread of saliva ran down his cheek, surely from having his mouth open for so long, panting. “Ah, Dabi, please… please” he begged, not knowing exactly what he meant. “D-don’t stop, I, I…” he writhed, feeling his orgasm getting closer and closer, not knowing what else to do but moan and speak incoherently, his eyes filled with tears, this was too much, too strong and different from what he thought it would be. “Calm down, babe” Dabi said between gasps, admiring the precious image that his eyes enjoyed at that precise moment, sliding his hands over Kasuki’s soft cheekbone, almost sweetly “Dabi, Dabi… I think I’m going to, I’m going to-”

 

Without mercy, Dabi continued to touch and penetrate his broken body without mercy, when the orgasm hit his body like an overwhelming wave of pleasure he had never felt before, running through his entire body, tensing him and making him cry out in surprise and pleasure. His eyes turned white so hard it hurt, his back arched in a perfect arc, and he pressed the sheets so hard his fingers turned white. Hazily, he felt Dabi continue to thrust into his now sensitive body, increasingly unbridled and less planned, he felt a few last thrusts before Dabi released his leg and collapsed on him breathless.

 

After a few minutes, already recovered and breathing normally again, the dark-haired man stood up and began to slowly withdraw from him. A grimace of discomfort appeared on his face, due to the uncomfortable sensation he felt again now that he wasn't having uncontrolled sex. He shifted under the sheets while Dabi tied the used condom and threw it in the trash, still naked. He brought some tissues with him, with which he cleaned the blond's stomach, who was lying in a trance of exhaustion and astonishment.

 

He sat up in bed, feeling a stabbing pain that would surely bother him a lot tomorrow. Spending hours sitting in a classroom seat wasn't entirely pleasant, especially like this. He must have been very expressive with his disgust and pain, because Dabi watched him amused from the edge of the bed, where he was putting his clothes back on—well, just his underwear and pants. His hair was a little wet with sweat and pretty messy, and the unburned skin on his arm was a little scratched, or at least reddened. "Sore?" he asked as if it wasn't obvious. He gave him a miserable snort of annoyance while shaking his head. He would insult him if he weren't so tired. He felt his underwear hit him directly in the face and slowly fall onto his lap. He looked down at the underwear and looked up to see the enormous idiot who had just fucked him. With a persistent twitch in his eye, he grabbed the underwear and put them back on. Hearing Dabi's laughter behind him, he turned to hit him or insult him, but he was too stiff. "You look like you've had a stick shoved up your ass" he laughed.

 

Bakugo wasn't so amused. "Shut your fucking ass before I beat you up, Patches" he growled, as he pulled on his pants. His body was still trembling slightly, and he was a little numb.

 

“A beating, honey? I think I just beat you up.” Fed up, Bakugo stood up, ignoring the pain, and strode towards the idiot.

 

“I swear, don’t you have a survival instinct? I could beat the hell out of you if I wanted to” he said, cornered against the wall, his arm shoving his throat to the ground. Dabi’s smile lingered, though.

 

“Hm… I mean, you’re hot and all, but I don’t think you know what you’re getting into” he replied, with a hint of warning, as he reached for his waist and wrapped his fingers around it, causing a shiver from their coldness.

 

“You’re the one who doesn’t know what you’re getting into. Are you a corpse or something? You’re half burned, and your body temperature is the same as someone buried in a coffin.” He tightened his grip on her throat even more, grinning like a madman.

 

“Yeah, I guess I should have been buried in a coffin a long time ago,” he blurted out, but Bakugo didn’t give in, and just snorted, “Do you have a fetish with hanging? We could try it later, because that little smile…” He laughed, while continuing to grope his abdomen, outlining his muscles.

 

“You’re a fucking weirdo! Don’t underestimate me, damn it,” he growled, letting go, but Dabi held onto his hips and wouldn’t let him escape.

 

“It’s you who underestimates me,” he looked at him with those turquoise eyes, which made him shudder and look away.

 

“Yeah, yeah. Who are you? A villain?” he laughed, and Dabi smiled at his comment too.

 

“Could be, maybe I kill children and steal from old people” he continued the joke as he stepped away, searching the floor for his shirt.

 

“If you were, I’d kick your fucking ass,” he replied, his voice raspy, giving him a thumbs-down gesture as he reached for his own shirt.

 

Dabi responded laughing “Do you really think villains only kill children and rob the elderly?”

 

“Villains do bad things, that’s what makes them villains” he rolled his eyes, as if it wasn’t obvious.

 

“Oh, how naive. You think they're just mean for the hell of it? Come on! You seem smarter than that, honey,” he mocked, sitting on the bed, already fully dressed and waiting for the blond to finish putting on his shoes.

 

He preferred to simply glare at him, not knowing how to respond. Had he perhaps butted into something he shouldn't? What Dabi was saying made sense, but he seemed to have a hint of resentment when he spoke of heroes, and a hint of positivity when he spoke of villains.

Bakugo decided he would turn a deaf ear and ignore his intuition, surely, it was just him overthinking.

 

“Okay, ready? Come on, I'll drop you off at home.” he stood up, staring at him, as if he hadn't analyzed him. “Now that we're not fucking, you're getting tense again?”

 

“I’ll come back alone,” he blurted out without thinking.

 

"Do you even know where you are? Don't be proud, you don't seem entirely well enough to be out on the street at this hour." He placed his arm around her waist, patiently.

 

“I don’t need your help, much less your compassion” he said through gritted teeth.

 

“Compassion? No, we had too much fun for that. Come on, don't be stubborn.” He approached slowly, until they were face to face. What Dabi didn't know was that he had possibly messed with the most stubborn person he had ever met.

 

I looked at him suspiciously before accepting. I would accept because it would take much longer to get home, and it was already very late. "Okay."

 

Dabi smiled, walking away and continuing through his house until he opened the door. The stairs followed, the dark-haired man took the motorcycle out of storage again and leaned against it, looking at his phone. "Okay, tell me the address of your house, or wherever I can drop you off." He looked at him, still with his head down, looking at his phone, his tone bored again.

 

Bakugo hadn't realized that he would implicitly have to tell the stranger where he lived, that even though he knew Katsuki in a way no one else did, he still didn't know him. Reluctantly, he entered his address into Google Maps, and after a couple of glances, Dabi handed him the helmet and got on the motorcycle, waiting for him to do the same. They didn't talk much during the ride, and the blond simply rested his head on the dark-haired man's back, a little tired and annoyed from sitting. He lost track of time, letting the breeze hit his bare skin and observing the city plunged into calm. Soon they were on the block of his house, and Dabi slowed down to stop right in front of his house. They got off, and he gave him back his helmet.

 

“Yeah, I should have known you were a rich kid,” he leaned against the bike, arms crossed, that lazy look on his face again.

 

"Ugh, you're annoying, Patches." He straightened his clothes, unsure how to say goodbye. He saw Dabi typing something on his phone. Wait, it wasn't his phone...

 

Before he could react and snatch his own phone away, Dabi was already holding it out in front of him, waiting for him to pick it up with a cocky smirk. “My number, don’t worry. It was good, we could do it again,” he said as Katuski snatched the phone violently.

 

"What? Wasn't it easier to just ask or something?!" he growled suddenly, indignant, not because it had been taken away from him, but because he hadn't noticed. Okay, the bastard was smarter than he looked.

 

"You were going to be embarrassed. I preferred to do it my way" he shrugged, as if it were no big deal.

 

“You bastard, your way of doing this is by stealing my cell phone?” he scolded, frowning and with his arms crossed over his chest.

 

“I gave it back to you! Consider it a courtesy from a child murderer and old-age thief,” he joked, as he stood up to leave.

 

“Fuck you, you burned-out idiot,” he responded harshly, watching as the black-haired man sat on the motorcycle, ready to leave.

 

“Oh, yeah. I already did, actually,” he smiled as he put on his helmet, while the blond’s eye twitched. “Well, see you around, blondie!” he said, starting the bike and making as much noise as possible, interrupting the beautiful silence of the sona. Bakugo groaned in frustration, and took out the keys to open the door. He went upstairs and when he got to his room, he simply took off his clothes and lay down on his bed, wrapping himself with the warm, familiar sheets that gave him a feeling of comfort. He looked at his watch, seeing that he'd probably only get a measly six hours of sleep.

 

The last thought that crossed his mind before being embraced by the long-awaited dream was that he regretted nothing.

 

Chapter 2: An interesting talk

Summary:

Dabi and Bakugo reunite, and after passionate sex they have a conversation about the sockiness of heroe society. Katsuki reunites with someone from the past and has an internal monologue where he questions his actions until now.

Several days had passed since the intense encounter, and Katsuki had not forgotten it.

 

He remembers how he woke up the next day, the alarm ringing irritatingly, his muscles tired and sore, his bleary eyes, which refused to open. It was hard for him to get up, as he was quite sleepy; even so, he got up and went about his normal routine, showering, having breakfast, and tidying his bed. He put on his uniform, leaving his tie aside, packed his books and notebooks, and headed to the train station to go to the UA. His mind kept thinking about what he had done last night, without regretting it. It had been risky, naive, and idiotic; but something good, very good, had come out of it.

 

He had checked his cell phone, seeing how had a notification from “fav black-haired guy,” confirming his number. What a ridiculous idiot, he thought. He wasn’t his favorite black-haired guy by a long shot. He made sure to poke fun at him enough and sent him dirty-face emojis.

 

Since that day, they hadn't spoken again, but he didn't worry, because it was just fucking; he already knewcontactarianwhen needed.

 

Right now, he had other worries called end-of-semester exams, for which he had studied day and night. Even though he already knew all the things, he decided to review it just in case. He gave lessons to Kirishima, who, although he had complained about his methods, had appreciated the results, as he had understood at least the basics of all the subjects.

 

The three days of written exams had just ended today, with Aizawa cutting the time. They had just finished Midnight's exam and he thought he had done well, but he was nervous for the hero exam they had tomorrow afternoon. Rumor had spread that it would be against the robots in the entrance exam, it was nothing to worry about; he had come in first on the list, but with the half and half and everyone else already prepared for the challenge, could he come in first? The only certain thing was that everyone would pass, since there was a reason they were currently in the hero course and not general studies. He waited for Kirishima, Mina, Sero and Kaminari to finish eating so he could return to the classroom.

 

After they finished, he was finally able to return to the living room.

 

“Ah! I love Midnight, man,” Pikachu said, on the verge of tears. “I swear, that woman is my savior. He made everything easy on the exam. At least I did well on that one.”

 

“Ugh, yeah. It was crap,” he replied, earning looks of disgust from his entire group.

 

“Not all of us have everything so easy Bakugo, Understanding fools," raccoon eyes argued, looking at him with disgust.

 

“They wouldn't be so stupid if they would try you idiots!” he sulked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

 

“Wait, wait…” Dumb Face shared a look withsero, who seemed to get the message.

 

“You, blasty…” Mina pointed out, connecting neurons as well.

 

“Bakubro! That was so manly! You’re motivating us, yeah, yeah!” Kirishima cried tearfully, wiping his tears with his wrist.

 

“Bakugo loves us, guys!” said sero, without leaving a trace of doubt.Bakugo… couldn't understand how they were so stupid,connected neurons together, and boom! Duplicate idiocy. Two brains were supposed to work better than one, but they seemed to be the antithesis of intelligence.

 

“What?! Can you all go to hell!” he shouted, but was interrupted.

 

“Come on Kacchan, admit it!” Kaminari shouted this time, lunging at him. He tried to back away, but was caught by three other bodies hugging him. Someone save him from the idiots he chose as friends. The blonde’s screams and his friends’ laught erexpandian through out the silent corridor, with knocks andfalls. They fled of him when he started chasing them with his explosions, creating a scandal.

 

Before they knew it, they had in front of them Aizawa and Present Mic, who was trying not to laugh at the scene, since Aizawa seemed quite annoyed.

 

Kaminari was the one who saw him and was paralyzed with fear, and the others, seeing the stiffness of their friend, looked too, and quickly all the laughter and screams were silenced with grimaces of panic and terror.

 

"Would someone please explain to me, you troublemakers, why you're causing such a scene? The entire UA is in the middle of exams," he said in a chillingly calm tone, with tiredness in his eyes.

 

“Hey, sensei,” Kirishima stammered, admitting the ridiculousness of the scene.

 

“I guess we were playing?” tried Sero, not sounding very convincing, with Mina nodding stiffly at his side.

 

“Playing?” he asked.

 

“Yes, yes” they answered in unison.

 

“Really?” I continued, stiffly.

 

“Yes..” they responded with even more fear.

 

“Come on, Shota! Don’t torture them anymore! Look at them, they’re suffering!” He put his arm around Present Mic’s shoulder. “They were just having fun, right? It’s exam time, and they must be really stressed out…”

 

“So?” he replied reluctantly, not giving in.

 

“Tomorrow they have the hero exam , Shota. Let them have fun before the tragedy,” he raised his eyebrows, as if hinting at something. The group of teenagers watched the scene in silence, unruly on the floor.

 

“You’ll each have to write a thousand-word apology, individually, to be handed in first thing tomorrow morning,” he relented, “and if I ever catch you doing this again, I’ll torture you by making you run a hundred laps around the court, understood?”

 

“Yes, sir!” everyone replied except him, and they left as quickly as possible.BakugoHe shrugged, running wasn't such a terrible punishment.

 

“Bakugo” called attention tiredly.

 

“Yes, sir,” he replied with boredom.

 

Now, back in the classroom, while watching the PE class of one of the general studies classes from the window, they were able to chat comfortably. They complained about the new punishment, because, how do you write a thousand-word apology about how terrible it was to run in the hallways? Kaminari seemed on the verge of fainting when the bell rang to return to class; according to what Mina had told Kirishima, Kaminari had cried during Yaoyorozu's private lessons. He laughed mentally; they were idiots because they chose to be, or well,they had another kind of intelligence. He felt sorry, the test now was of ectoplasm, where the quadratic functions that the electrician did not understand would go.

 

When the entire class was present, Ectoplasm stood at the front of the room, with Iida handing out the test papers. He readied himself and smiled as he read the entire sheet. Easy.

--------------------------

 

After the exam, he began to wander, watching the poor students in general studies do push-ups until they died. He remembered the incident from a few days ago...

«He listened as the raccoon-eyed, goofy-faced children relaxed as they talked about the test robots, as if they hadn't finished at the bottom of the class on the theoretical exams, as if they had good control over their gifts. He yelled at them angrily, but they didn't seem very open to criticism. He didn't care.

 

“Hey, Deku! I don’t know if you figured out how to use your gift, but you’re really bothering me,” he said, and the entire room fell silent.

 

“You must talk about how Deku moved like the other day,” rosy cheeks intervened.

 

“That’s true,” raccoon eyes agreed.

 

“I don’t need another result like the one from the sports festival,” he spoke again. “In the next exams, there will be individual scores and we will know who is the best, I will beat you without a doubt!” he shouted, while pointing at him. “I will kill you! Todoroki, you too!” he walked towards the half and half, who nodded slightly, not understanding the situation. »

 

Yes, he would take care of passing them all, despite Kirishima's concern and his motivational talks when they were resting, after hours of studying.

 

His phone began to ring loudly. The name "fav black-haired" appeared on his screen, and he was irritated to the core. He mentally cursed and headed for the door, slamming it out of the living room with 19 pairs of eyes on him. Gossipy idiots; surely their conversation was more interesting than solving third-degree equations.

Although the call of Dabi was perfect, really; now more than ever, he needed to clear his head, what with the exams and the pressure he felt about them…

 

He answered the phone, ready to insult.

 

“You idiot, why the hell are you calling me?” he yelled as soon as he got on the line.

 

“Oh, how grumpy. Is that how you say hello?” the hoarse, lazy voice replied.

 

“Hey?! I'm in class, and your fucking call interrupted everything!” he complained impatiently.

 

“Oh, sorry, Mr. Perfect. I just wanted to know when we’d see each other again,” he yawned, and the microphone was heard squashed.

 

“Oh, okay,” he calmed down. “You don’t know about text messages?” he said, much calmer but still anxious because his class was probably listening.

 

“Oh, you’re so calm! I’m sorry to interrupt, darling, but I’m afraid I have something important tonight, so I can only talk now, and I didn’t know when you’d answer,” he explained, still sleepy.

 

“Ugh, how cheeky, stop calling me that,” he complained. “I don’t know, I have the afternoon free,” he added.

 

“Hm, okay. Your place or mine?” he asked, ignoring his complaints.

 

The blond reasoned, because if he had the heroism exam tomorrow, and an apology letter to deliver, he would waste a lot of time going to a house that was not inMusutafuHe didn't like the idea of ​​having a stranger in his house, but... "my house," he answered without thinking, again too hasty due to nerves.

 

“Okay, I'll stop by at 6pm.” It seemed like he had gotten out of bed or whatever stirring previously.

 

“Okay,” he replied, not knowing what else to say. “See you, patches,” and hung up without listening to anything else the black-haired man had to say.

 

His head was in a messed-up mood, because while he wanted to get to know Dabi a little better so he wouldn't feel like the stranger he was, he knew it was just sex, that they'd had a good time last time, and that's where feelings aren't involved. He was a sarcastic, insufferable, dyed-black man with a dyed-black hair, and it had helped him clear his mind; he had that certain something he still couldn't figure out, and he seemed a little mysterious. Some things about him didn't add up, like how he could be so hot when his skin was freezing, how everything he did was lazy, but he was actually quite fast, perceptive, and had good reflexes.

 

He re-entered the living room, where they looked at him again, he glared at them as he sat down.

 

He was a little lost in his thoughts, thinking about what he should have been; these exams were the perfect opportunity to show how perfect he was, how he surpassed the standards imposed since his Quirk appeared. If everything went well, he could feel proud of himself and once again feel the smugness he felt before that idiot Deku reached out to him that day at the lake.

 

He would be the greatest hero of all, he repeated like a mantra,and would reach the pinnacle of hero society. Yeah, that's what I'd do.

 

But there was one small problem, and that was his personality. As Tsuyu had said before the USJ attack, his personality was too much in every way; he got angry easily, and his normal speaking tone was usually shouty. He should improve that as well, but if he didn't have so much on his mind right now, it would be easier.

 

He was no longer the boy who had entered the village. While he was more in control and tried to improve, it wasn't always easy. He doubted he could let go of his resentment toward Deku, or the two. Very reluctantly, he agreed to be helped, or as he prefers to call it, accompanied by his friends.WorseIt would be with Deku.

 

I knew I had inherited my mother's personality, actually.

 

His understanding led him to the conclusion that, with the help ofLikeThat could improve. He'd had a good time and had cleared his head quite a bit; those around him told him how calm he was, compared to how he usually was, and that said a lot.

 

Dabi would be his key.

 

No, it wouldn't be Dabi himself, as a person. There was nothing special about him. It was what they'd done that had helped him. He'd never been very interested in love and sex, and if he hadn't felt the social pressure to find it, maybe he wouldn't have done it. He would have gone to the bar and ignored Dabi, but he didn't regret it either; thanks to that, he'd ended up with something good.

 

Bakugo didn't have time for nonsense, and he'd already met Dabi. Why meet someone again? How lazy.

 

Dabi was the easiest way out. And he didn't like it either.displeased. 

 

----------------------------------

The class of heroism was a review game, with All Might going over simple combat techniques so everyone was clear on at least the basics.

 

To say he was nervous was an understatement, as All Might seemed to know something they didn't when Foolface and Raccoon Eyes were talking about techniques that user against robots, he was not very subtle when he said that expanded his horizons as if he were having an awkward pep talk. Now that he thought about it, Present Mic had made an inside joke between him and Aizawa, referring to the exam as a tragedy, raising his eyebrows as if telling a joke only he understood; something told him there was more going on that they weren't being told, or at least, that they didn't know about.

 

He kept his thoughts to himself, as he had a thousand-word apology to write, and there were a few hours left until the appointment he had agreed upon with Dabi. He sat down at his desk and began writing the stupidest things he had ever said, which didn't represent a bit of his personality, much less what he felt. He was interrupted only by a text from his father. Ask him how he was. A photo of him with his mother at the fashion show, surrounded by strange, rich people who later bought his parents' designs. According to the message, would return on Saturday, two days before the start of summer vacation, and with it, the camp so eagerly awaited by his classmates.

 

After a good while of boredom, biting his pencil, scratching words, and distracting himself by looking out the window, he was able to finish his work. Nervously, he looked at the clock to see that there was still an hour left until the time he had agreed upon withLikeHe went back to take a shower, not wanting to create an unpleasant image. He didn't like the idea of ​​missing a strength training session, but at least he'd trained a little with Kirishima on the UA courts after his heroics; maybe he could do it after Dabi left.

 

After getting out of the shower, he decided, a little reluctantly, to change his All Might Sheets for simple, freshly laundered white ones. He perfumed his room and made it as normal as possible, so that his nerves and need to make a good impression wouldn't be noticeable. He hoped that Dabi wouldn't mind having posters of All Might and Best Jeanist staring at him. His room represented him quite a bit, actually. Posters of his favorite rock and metal bands, heroes too; his latest-gen console, a pile of games arranged in rows; his desk lined with textbooks, tidy and clean. His room was neat as always, with that feeling of disorder that exasperated his mother so much, but which always seemed to be tidy when she wanted to tidy it up.

 

He preferred to ignore the photos stuck on his wall, with his friends, Deku from when they were little (forced by his mother, obviously…), some he kept from Aldera, and with his current class; from the half-idiot, the group of boys, the girls, everyone… with their teachers too. UA was a beautiful experience, despite how sore and tormented the exams and the pressure he felt had him; he had met people he would never forget, that was for sure. He was on his way to fulfilling his dreams. He took out the ones that showed him in his UA uniform, losing most of them, and put them in a drawer to put them back later.

 

Since when was everything so motivating? Why couldn't it always feel that way?

 

He paced around his room, wondering how obvious it would be that he'd set his room up for him. In fact, if he left the hero posters out, he'd know if dabi disliked them, and he could be sure that the impression he had given him the other day had been nothing more than an idea in his head, formed by fatigue. He smiled victoriously.

 

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt a notification on his phone, and when he looked up, it was Dabi, letting him know he was out. He rushed so fast that his pinky toe hit the door, and he kept his cry of pain to himself as he bounced on one foot, holding the newly injured toe. These things only happen when you're in a hurry or really angry, but they never help. He hurried up the stairs, but slowed down as he approached the door, not wanting to appear so soon to open it, as if he were anxiously awaiting his message; if he seemed agitated, he'd say the opposite. He adjusted his clothes and hair, which were still damp, a bit. He realized he hadn't chosen his outfit with care, although it wasn't that bad either. A basic, comfortable outfit, a good decision, he thought, as if he were preparing for the idiot's arrival...

 

He opened the door, where he found Dabi staring at his phone in boredom. He was dressed rather strangely, unlike him: black pants, a strange T-shirt that left his chest quite bare, and a long, threadbare coat that gave him a bit of a costume? suit? Like a hero suit, but he didn't look heroic at all. This time, he was wearing rather long boots, almost reaching his knees. He had a bag with him, which he assumed he knew he was carrying.

 

“Well, shall we look at each other or can you let me in?” he said, fiddling with his cell phone lazily.

 

“Tch, you’re getting your hopes up, Patches. Your outfit is terrible, where the hell are you going next? To go on a rampage?” he replied, rolling his eyes as he backed away from the door to let him in.

 

“Nah, I’m just going to plan an attack with my new teammates” what a strange way to refer to his friends, he thought.

 

“Yeah, yeah. And then?” He brushed it off as Dabi looked around the inside of his house with a smile and his hands in his pockets.

 

“No idea. You know, maybe he’ll murder some kids,” he joked shamelessly. Katsuki considered himself someone with a humorous side, as he enjoyed laughing at others, but the black-haired man certainly didn’t mince his words when it came to nonsense.

 

“There, there. You’ve lost the joke, idiot,” he warned him.

 

“The joke? Oh, look how cute! You're the exact replica of this woman,” he shouted, pointing at a picture carefully placed on the wall. It was a photo of him and his mother at a water park when he was 5 years old. He hit him on the hand and pushed him violently, sending him toward the stairs.

 

“Ugh, you gossipy idiot! Who gave you permission to watch?” he yelled, the sound of Dabi’s boots creaking on the wooden stairs.

 

“Oh, aren’t we past the tense stage, babe?” he stopped in the middle of the stairs. “I don’t even know your name, you know?”

 

“You don’t know how to climb stairs either or something? Why did you stop?” he replied, growling. “And I don’t know your name either!” he yelled, pushing past him to continue up the stairs.

 

"You at least know a nickname, I don't even know that." he grabbed him by the waist, pulling him back. If it weren't for his firm grip, he would have lost his balance and fallen.

 

He was skeptical about telling his his name, since everyone had heard Bakugo's name, the winner of the sports festival. If Dabi didn't recognize him, he could look him up. Maybe it was a little unfair, but what else was he going to do?

 

“I think it's normal to know someone's name when you meet them?” he said, as if it weren't obvious. “I mean, even you, with your social skills, know it,” he joked, trying to lighten the tension a little.

 

“Ugh, I already told you I’m not socially inept. You’re the inept one, because instead of texting, you call.” He crossed his arms, pressed against Dabi in the small space where Dabi had chosen to chat. “And what’s this about talking in a fucking stairwell?”

 

"I really think you committed some crime," the blond grabbed him by the wrist and led him to his room. "Or was it some kind of corruption committed by your parents? That would also justify the fact that you're a rich kid."

 

“Don’t you know when to shut up or something? One more shitty comment and I’ll throw you out the window,” he replied, pushing him away, but Dabi pulled him towards him, starting to kiss him. Damn shameless. He didn’t even bother to put down the bag he was carrying, and he threw it on the floor to put his hands on his hips.

 

“Sorry, baby,” he said between kisses, almost breathless. He groped his ass and took his by the thighs to support him on the desk in his bedroom. As he did so, he felt the sheet of paper he had written for Aizawa crumple beneath him, but he didn't care.

 

They continued kissing desperately, and Katsuki began to remove his worn coat and that crappy t-shirt he was wearing. He took off his own shirt, under the fixed and watchful gaze of Dabi, who wore a smile to match his electrifying gaze that he would never get used to. He pulled him back towards him, placing his hands on his chest and spreading them all over his body, passionately touching the burns on his back and chest. With his hands on his hips, Dabi lowered his kisses down his jaw, passing through his neck, playing with his ear and running his hot tongue all over his shoulder. He bit and licked languidly, driving the blond even more desperate.

 

He gave him sighs, running his fingers through his dark hair, gently tugging at it, massaging and pampering. Dabi began to play with the strap of his pants, returning to his lips and joining them deeply, letting his tongue enter his mouth; the kiss turned from something slow to something fiery, their teeth clashing from time to time, their lips moving quickly, and Bakugo held him by the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss and releasing it only when they needed to breathe.

 

Dabi lifted him slightly to remove his pants and underwear, leaving him completely naked. He started to remove his belt, but the blond got there first, removing all of his remaining clothing, leaving him in just his underwear. Patches smiled, amused by the blond's desperation, who was much more relaxed than the first time. However, he didn't comment and grabbed the bag, which contained the lubricant and condoms. Yeah, clever guy, the blond didn't have any of that.

 

“I assumed you wouldn’t have any of this, was I right?” he asked, taking everything out and placing it on the rest of the desk.

 

“You got it right,” he replied simply, pulling him in for another kiss, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, the surgical staples tickling him. Dabi was as cold as he always seemed. He should get used to it.

 

The black-haired man smiled, “how desperate,” he didn’t bother to answer, because he wasn’t wrong.

 

Dabi grabbed him by the hips and pulled him closer, rubbing their erections. The sensation against the fabric wasn't enough; it didn't last long, because he began to masturbate him at a slow pace, up and down, twisting his hand at the end. He played with his precum-soaked glans, and Bakugo made no effort to contain his moan. They continued like this for a few minutes, breaking away from the kiss only to observe Bakugo's reactions.

 

He decided he was fed up with the desk, and they approached the bed with staggering steps, falling hard against the mattress with barely any contact. Their intertwined bodies seemed as one. The black-haired man pulled away and began to go down, ending at his legs. He kissed and licked with something similar to delicacy all over his legs, massaging them and squeezing his thighs tightly. He did the same with his abs and chest, playing with his nipples in passing. He licked and sucked hard, leaving a few marks that he didn't bother to criticize. He kissed his stomach, his hips, and his entire body with an unfamiliar delicacy; apparently, this time, he wanted to do it even better. Bakugo also wanted to make him feel this good, so he slid his hand, passing through his happy trail, inside Dabi's underwear, beginning to masturbate the black-haired man carefully. Dabi smiled before wetting his fingers with lubricant and beginning to play with his entrance.

 

Too distracted, the blond continued kissing and touching Dabi, who was on top of him with arms of steel, careful not to fall on the boy lying beneath him. He put a finger inside him, generating that strange, intrusive discomfort, but Bakugo decided not to bother with that, because the best was yet to come. It was a necessary evil.

 

He thrust his finger in and out repeatedly, waiting for Katsuki's grip to loosen. It seemed to be a general characteristic of his; he was always a little tense and rigid. He thrust in a second finger, and the blond shifted a little uncomfortably, trying to hide his slight pain from the camera. He assumed it had happened before, why did it hurt now too?

 

“Hey. Is everything okay?” Dabi asked, breaking away from the kiss and stopping moving his hand.

 

“Yes, yes,” he replied, “it still hurts.”

 

“Oh, sure. It always hurts a little at first; you're not used to it. Besides, you're always a little tense,” he observed, trying to create a more fluid communication.

 

“Hey, how is that supposed to stop happening?” he shrank back, suddenly embarrassed.

 

“Let yourself go,” he said as he slid down onto him and began kissing all over his neck, his jaw. “Don’t worry, baby,” he whispered in his ear, making him shudder.

 

Bakugo tried to follow his advice, not thinking too much and letting him continue, focusing on how he felt. To lighten the blonde's mood even further, Dabi decided it might be a better idea to start sucking him off.

 

He moved down his entire body, sucking and kissing his nipples, running his tongue over them, covering them with saliva, and teasing them, overstimulating his body, which was already breathing heavily. He reached his cock, licking its length slowly, still looking into his eyes, waiting for his reactions. He licked his glans in circles, making him see stars. He began to masturbate him while he thrust his cock in and out of his mouth, making lewd, wet sounds. With the blond writhing beneath his, clenching the sheets and biting his lip, his legs shaking, he decided it was time to move his fingers again, rhythmically inserting and removing both fingers. He reapplied lubricant and went deeper, quickly finding that sweet spot this time.

 

He saw stars again, feeling the pleasure he'd longed for. His legs trembled, and electric shocks filled his body in waves, moaning and sighing. His body, already damp with sweat, writhed, his eyes white, his knuckles clenched, and his nipples swollen. His entire body screamed of overstimulation. He let Dabi continue his work calmly as he inserted the third and final finger before finally penetrating him. Moans bubbled in his throat, and pleasure choked him.

 

He felt overwhelmed, with so many signs of pleasure at once. Dabi's tongue playing with his cock, fingers touching his prostate, and every sensitive spot on his body being attended to. This time, Dabi had taken care to enhance the experience to the fullest, already knowing what the blond liked. His thighs, legs, abs, chest, neck, and every erogenous zone had been visited and kissed, licked, and sucked by a busy Dabi, who was looking to give the blond a better experience than the last.

 

he felt a ball forming in his stomach, ready to explode, sensing that his orgasm was near. He moaned louder, sharp and suppressed, coming straight from his throat. He tried to hold it in as long as he could, but he felt like he was on the edge of a cliff, being cornered ever closer.

 

“Wait, wait,” he tried, embarrassed. Dabi laughed softly.

 

“What's up, babe?” he replied, forcing the blond to speak with words. His lazy, or sarcastic, tone was gone, giving way to a much more intense and slightly dark tone. His deep voice resonated within him.

 

“I don’t want to, not yet…”

 

“Oh, no. This has only just begun; don't worry, you'll finish when I decide,” he replied, causing a surge of excitement with just a few words. He enjoyed the husky, serious tone Dabi was using right now, how there was no hesitation in his voice or any form of rebuttal. He didn't like submission in everyday life, but he definitely didn't dislike this either.

 

Dabi slowly withdrew his fingers so as not to cause any discomfort, settling between his legs and holding his thigh elevated. The blond, drenched in sweat, made himself more comfortable between the sheets and pillows, holding on tightly. With the heat lately and the current situation, he worried about not being able to control his gift enough, drying his palms as best he could; he hoped not to have an accident and ruin everything. He exhaled repeatedly, hoping to calm down.

 

The dark-haired man ran his rough, cold fingers over Dabi's body, making him shiver from the difference in temperature as he put on the condom and slowly and carefully inserted himself inside him. He felt the hot, tingling sensation, but also the pain. He grew slightly frustrated and annoyed, frowning and playing with a lock of Dabi's black hair, noticing its white roots peeking out slightly. He ran his fingers over the staples carefully, still afraid. He touched Dabi's face in a caress similar to gentleness, and Dabi stared at him without saying a word. It felt invasive, though. Such sweetness in a relationship as superficial as this was unnecessary and out of place, so he lowered his hand, pretending it hadn't just happened.

 

I look at Dabi and nod, allowing him to move. He slowly pulled out and reinserted himself repeatedly, being shallow enough for the blond to adjust to the situation. After a few minutes of this almost annoying back and forth, Dabi adjusted the position and began to enter deeper, finding his prostate, as if he already knew its anatomy by heart.

 

Dabi took him to heaven himself, without hesitation. He felt like he was on cloud nine as the dark-haired boy took him mercilessly; deep and rhythmic, he felt himself floating in Dabi's arms, Dabi breathing heavily, enjoying Bakugo, who moaned shamelessly, his back arched and his hair tangled and sweaty; he would think it was disgusting in a normal situation, but at this moment, the wetter and more lascivious everything was, the better. His turquoise eyes stared at him before burying themselves in his neck and devouring him like a vampire desperate for blood. Their chests touched, with the staples and dry, textured burns brushing against his nipples. He felt like Dabi's movements were in slow motion, lazily running through his body, but his dark, lustful eyes sent out another message.

 

“You taste sweet,” he commented, and Bakugo couldn’t give a better response than a moan of recognition.

He sat down, without moving his hips, and admired the blond as if he were a painter observing the value of his work. He ran his gaze over the blond's worked body, now covered in bites and hickeys that he genuinely hoped would go away by tomorrow. He smiled and placed one of the blond's legs on his shoulder, which didn't bother him since it was quite flexible; and that was despite the fact that he thought it was completely useless. He positioned himself on top of him again, now with the blond's leg on his shoulder, and penetrated again, closely observing the blond's grimace of surprise and satisfaction, how a bold and high-pitched moan came from his mouth, the drop of sweat running down his forehead, swollen lips, and his long, wet eyelashes. He moved again with skill and speed, driving him crazy; it seemed that they both enjoyed it, since Dabi also escaped hoarse, low moans. Bakugo began to whimper pleadingly, touching Dabi's entire body without hesitation, who slid a hand down to his cock to touch it to the rhythm of the thrusts, which were increasingly deeper, but sloppy.

 

The sex was intense, messy, the room felt overwhelmingly hot, the only sounds were moans and gasps, the headboard of his old bed hitting the wall, and the wood of the bed squeaking from the sudden movement he wasn't used to.

 

Overwhelmed by pleasure, he made a decision. “Dabi, Dabi,” he called, breathing heavily.

 

“Yes, darling?” he replied without pausing, his voice choked and his pupils dilated.

 

"My name... my name is Katsuki," he said, groaning, unable to contain himself. He seemed surprised for a second, because he stopped and hesitated. He simply nodded and responded with a "mhm" before increasing his speed.

 

“Ah, ah. Dabi, this is…” he moaned without holding back, repeating his name while he tore his back with his nails carelessly, but the black-haired man didn’t show his pain, but quite the opposite, he enjoyed… the pain?

 

“Hm, Katsuki, you feel so good.” He spoke as if pleading, a little out of his mind. The blond gasped and held his breath for a few seconds, surprised; he moaned in response, out of pleasure at the fact that it was his name Dabi was moaning. Not Bakugo, not the UA student, not the mud victim, not the winner of the sports festival. Simply him, Katsuki.

 

“Yes, yes. Perfect for me, Katsuki,” he spoke again, agitated and immersed in pleasure, as his thrusts became more careless.

 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” he writhed in the sheets, his back arched and his knuckles white, his legs shaking violently as his orgasm approached. Dabi kept praising how good he was, and the blond couldn’t think of anything more pleasurable than that. He moaned and moaned, begging Dabi to continue, to give him more.

 

The orgasm hit him abruptly, like a bolt of lightning splitting his spine. He felt it down to the tips of his limbs and let out a strangled cry as his eyes rolled back, turning white. His fingers gripped the sheets tightly, a trail of saliva running down his cheek. With waves of his orgasm, Dabi devoured his lips as their uncoordinated thrusts brought him to climax. Suppressing a moan on his lips, his strength gone, Bakugo belatedly followed the kiss. He collapsed beside him, still pressed against each other, since they barely fit in their single bed. They were both sweaty and disheveled, still catching their breath.

 

“That was… good,” the blond said, unable to find the right word to describe what they had just done, rolling around in the sheets and curled up face down, careful not to get tangled up with Dabi, who was smiling at the ceiling.

 

“I think it was more than good, Kitty-kat,” he replied, holding his head in his hand, his arm resting on the pillow, as he turned to look at him.

 

"Conceited" buried his face in the pillow, not bothering to insult him. He'd do that later.

 

“Yeah, you weren’t yelling the same thing…” Bakugo elbowed him in the ribs, bending him slightly, but he laughed. He stood up, putting on his underwear, but nothing else. The blond lazily lifted his head off the pillow to continue watching Dabi’s movements. His reddened skin and a few scratches stood out, and he felt embarrassed. His hair was wet with sweat, more disheveled than usual, and his silver jewelry shone in the sunset light, which gave the bedroom an orange hue. The shadows highlighted his physique. He bent down, rummaging through the pockets of the coat lying on the floor, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Bakugo rolled his eyes.

 

“Here?” he asked, questioning him.

 

“Does it bother you?” He raised an eyebrow, placing the cigarette between his lips.

 

“Ugh. Do whatever you want, idiot,” he grumbled.

 

“Okay,” he said, lighting the cigarette and leaving the lighter and the pack of cigarettes on the table. He leaned on his desk and smiled shamelessly, turning his gaze towards the sunset, inhaling that smoke that Bakugo considered so disgusting, but that made him look so good. It’s as if Dabi was everything that is wrong and for some reason, that made him attractive. His terrifying clothing, his burns that looked so painful, his piercings, his cigarettes, and his strange and unbearable personality. He stared at him, analyzing, comfortable, lying in bed, with the fabric of the sheets caressing his completely bare skin. His hipbone stood out, uncovered, and underneath his underwear, with his Happy Trail. The view was too good for him not to be semi-hard. He directed his gaze to Dabi’s body, enjoying how good he looked, he saw that his cock was also semi-hard. When he looked up at Dabi's face, he was already looking at him with amusement. Son of a bitch.

 

The black-haired man began to look at the photos hanging on the wall, smoke billowing from his mouth, examining the images. “Okay, for you, you have quite a few friends,” he said simply.

 

“Fuck off, I warned you, one more time and I'd explode,” he replied unintentionally, realizing the inconsistency. He had accidentally slipped his gift into the mix.

 

“Explode? I think you said throw me out the window,” he mocked, uncrumpling his apology to Aizawa. A grimace of disgust formed on his face when he saw how crumpled it was, and that Dabi actually looked like he wanted to start reading it.

 

"Mr. Aizawa, this is my formal apology for the events that occurred today in the hallway," he began reading aloud. The blond man shifted quickly in the sheets, becoming tangled up. "The actions taken by my classmates and I today were completely irresponsible."

 

“Enough! Don’t read that shit, I didn’t let you,” he shouted angrily.

 

Dabi started laughing, his abdomen contracting and he dropped the paper resting it where he was. “Are you a problem child at your rich kids’ school? For some reason I’m not surprised!” He continued laughing at the letter.

 

“You! Who the hell do you think you are? I’m the best student in my class!” I retorted.

 

“I don't doubt it, but you're a lot of atmosphere for a bunch of posh kids. What a long excuse for… running in the hallways?” he replied more calmly, but with a hint of amusement in his voice.

 

He didn't bother to answer, and lay back down on the bed, face down. After a couple of minutes, he felt Dabi move, something falling to the floor, but he didn't move. The bed dipped, but he couldn't see the dark-haired man, who positioned his knees between his thighs, positioning himself on top of him. He leaned close to his ear, squatting over him, and pressing his erection against Bakugo's ass.

 

His body's reaction was immediate; he felt his cock press against the mattress, throbbing with interest as Dabi rubbed himself against him. "Round two?" he asked.

 

He felt very tired, his muscles weren't working quite right, and his face against the pillow was comfortable. "I can barely move, idiot. I'm very comfortable like this," he said, still not denying anything.

 

"Who said we're going to change positions? In fact, I can think of a very good one," he replied simply.

 

"Okay," he immediately gave permission, because his cock wouldn't forgive him. And neither would he. He felt him move, putting on a new condom.

 

Dabi quickly began tracing his back with his hands, running his hands over his waist. “You really have a lovely waist, kitty,” he said as he ran his lips against his shoulder, beginning to kiss and lick. He yanked his underwear off and began kissing his lower back, moving down to his ass, leaving a couple of kisses there as well. He felt very embarrassed, feeling very exposed. He probed his entrance with his fingers, considering whether he should prepare his again, but having just finished made it unnecessary. The blond smiled. He wished sex was always like this. That meant he should fuck Dabi often, and on second thought, he wouldn't complain if that happened.

 

He rubbed himself against his now bare ass again, his hand snaking down to his cock. Bakugo arched his back and lifted his hips. Dabi smirked as he touched him lightly. He grabbed Katsuki's hips, inviting him to raise his hips even higher until he was on his knees, his face pressed into the pillow. Okay, the exposure of this position was very embarrassing.

 

“I swear, you don’t know how good you look like this,” he said, and from his tone, he guessed he was smiling. He turned his face, meeting the mirror at the side of his bed. He saw himself, his flushed face, his arched back and raised butt, Dabi’s hands cupping his hips, the burns contrasting with his pale skin. He saw him kneeling behind him, smiling as he ran his hands over his waist and back down to his hips.

 

It slid in without much difficulty, and Katsuki moaned in satisfaction at the fact that it didn't hurt. He began to thrust intensely, not very cautiously this time, and he didn't complain. It felt a little strange, as he was still very sensitive. He held the sheets in his hands, gripping them tightly, as his body moved back and forth, following the force of Dabi's thrusts.

 

As he sped up, he started moaning again, his saliva wetting the soft fabric of his pillow. His breathing became ragged again, and the tenderness made him want to scream. His head was moving closer to the headrest, and he had to adjust his hand, using the headrest itself for support so he wouldn't move further and end up hitting his head. His entire skin was moving, he was even sweatier than before, and Dabi continued pounding away mercilessly. Even more intensely than before, he began to sigh and moan Dabi's name.

 

The newly appointed man seemed to have noticed him looking to the side, and smiled when he saw himself in the mirror. He lightly tugged on his hair, drawing a moan from the blond. He smiled, continuing to penetrate him; he bent down, positioning himself over him, taking his hands, untangling the sheets, and taking them in his own, penetrating more fiercely. Now he didn't move from his spot, but he bounced and felt a slight suffocation that improved the situation. Dabi's breaths hit his sweaty, shiny shoulder, thrusting with passion.

 

Turning his gaze to the mirror, he saw himself, completely submissive beneath Dabi. They were fucking like animals. His back was completely stretched and arched, his ass raised in front of Dabi, who was on top of him, completely possessive.

 

He felt Dabi's hands warmer than before, but he didn't care. He was behind him again, holding his hips; the rhythm was still steady, but he didn't feel as suffocated anymore.

 

Dabi's hands began to grow hotter and hotter, feeling them burn slightly against his skin as they both inched closer to orgasm. The burning pained him, but he also enjoyed it. What kind of masochism was this?

 

He couldn't help but let out a groan of pain as the temperature became abnormal, and his nervous system made him pull away slightly. Dabi stopped instantly, and seeing the marks on his hips made him realize what had happened.

“Oh, sorry. I got a little carried away,” he said, pulling his hands away.

 

“No, no. It’s fine,” he replied. “I mean, it wasn’t bad when it wasn’t burning,” he explained hesitantly, afraid that Dabi would judge him. But a look of surprise and amusement appeared on his face.

 

“I understand,” he grasped what the blond meant. “Is this okay?” He placed his warm hands back on his, which burned and tingled, but didn’t burn. He nodded, and Dabi returned to his work.

 

They soon reached their previous rhythm, and the blond felt overwhelmed. His body shuddered with pleasure, still sensitive from his first orgasm. He was tired, his muscles ached, and he couldn't breathe properly. Dabi's hands tingled with that strangely pleasurable heat, which plunged him even deeper into his sea of ​​pleasure. The lascivious sound of their bodies colliding, his face crushed against the wet pillow, and his lips parted in endless moans and sighs. He felt the force of the pleasure so strong that he began to try to speak incoherently, tears running down his flushed face, clouding his vision. He couldn't take it anymore, small sobs escaping his throat as the orgasm came closer and closer, forming inside him and waiting to explode. Dabi continued praising how good he was, giving him more pleasure. He didn't know what to do; this was definitely too much in every sense of the word.

 

“Ah… Dabi, Dabi.” he pleaded “too much, this is too much, I…” he continued to stammer.

 

“Katsuki, Katsuki,” he called, “you are incredible, how you make me feel, you…” he suddenly gasped.

 

It didn't take long for them to climax, his cock soaking the sheets with his cum, and his body shaking as if he'd been beaten. He saw in his reflection the exact moment Dabi finished, increasing his own pleasure. A guttural moan left his mouth, a moan that said his name as his thrusts became uncoordinated, his fingers digging into the blond's hips and his head throwing back, his eyes white and mouth open. That vision would haunt him for the rest of his life.

 

Dabi pulled out of him and fell back beside him, shaken. They didn't even stir with the sheets soaked with sweat and Bakugo's semen. They stayed there together, suffering the consequences of such a savage act.

 

“Intense,” the dark-haired man blurted out, sitting up in bed. The room was dimly lit, so he stretched, dragging himself over to the nightstand where his lamp was. He turned on the light and didn’t bother to get comfortable again. He stayed there while Dabi picked up his underwear and put it back on. He sat down on the mattress, watching the blond, lying like a corpse on the bed, still naked. He put his pants back on.

 

After a few minutes, the blond decided he had to stop being so embarrassing, and struggled to sit up. His muscles ached, and his ass ached even more. Even more than the first time. Gallantly, Dabi handed him his own underwear instead of throwing them in his face. At least this time he was more compassionate. He slowly put them on, and lazily stood up stiffly again. He didn't bother to look at Dabi, knowing he was grinning like the idiot he was.

 

he got dressed, and Dabi finished dressing too. When he looked at him, he seemed more serious, staring directly at his All Might poster.

 

“Do you like heroes?” he asked as if it wasn’t obvious, Katsuki wasn’t in the mood.

 

He snorted before answering, "Who doesn't? Besides, isn't it obvious?" he replied, grumpily pointing at his posters. His plan was working: he would find out Dabi's opinion on heroes.

 

“You know Stain, right?” he spoke back, and the blond’s blood ran cold. “Let it not be what I’m thinking,” he begged.

 

“Of course,” he replied shakily, staring at him with wide eyes.

 

“You don’t agree with him?” he asked, sizing up the blond.

 

“With a hero killer? I’d rather die,” he growled, beginning to grow restless.

 

“Hero society is corrupt and hypocritical,” he continued. “Who says it’s heroic? There are heroes out there who are worse than the villains themselves—those they don’t save, those they choose not to save.”

 

“Villains ruin so many people's lives. Heroes make sure that's not the case,” he tried to reason.

 

"Villains are the product of a corrupt and hypocritical society. The cycle will continue as long as people don't change, as long as heroes don't change."

 

“Heroes give their lives for civilians, they defend the defenseless! Thanks to All Might, Japan’s crime rate is very low, thanks to their efforts, and those of many other heroes,” he shouted heatedly. Dabi looked at him in disgust, as if what he was saying was unreasonable. As if he were the one talking nonsense.

 

“It’s unwise to have only one pillar of society; when all might fall, society will fall with it,” he smiled as if it were a victory.

 

“Why would All Might fall?” he asked.

 

“He will fall,” he replied, “and at that moment all the shit that’s been piling up will explode. It’s just a matter of time,” he shrugged.

 

“You can’t wish for society to descend into chaos,” he said.

 

“I can't? It's thanks to them that villains exist; it's thanks to heroes and superhuman society that the unconventional, the excluded, and those who have never been saved fall into crime. Heroism doesn't reach everyone, but rather a certain group of people. Everything will be fine as long as your quirk is conventional, as long as you're not from a poor neighborhood, as long as you're not strange, or your quirk doesn't change your appearance. No one can save them.”

 

Dabi's monologue disgusted him brutally, making him feel slightly betrayed.

 

“Even heroes are corrupt, those who do it for money, and even those with a dark side. It's a whole network of corruption that must be destroyed. Moral ambiguity exists, kitty. It's not all black and white. They cheer the heroes when they kill a villain and judge the villain when they kill the hero. Both are human, and only one is judged.”

 

The blond man was dumbfounded by Dabi's distorted view of reality. Stupefied, he remained silent, not knowing what to say. He knew that hero society had its flaws, like everything human; he himself had been booed for his prejudices and backward thinking.

 

“There are heroes worse than villains,” he repeated fervently. “One day you will discover how the world of heroes really works, and you won’t be as happy as you are now,” he said simply, with his hands in his pockets.

 

“I have to go to bed early. I have an exam tomorrow and I still have to make dinner,” he replied, trying to escape, for the first time in his life, the situation he had gotten himself into by being so careless.

 

“Will you cook? Wouldn’t it be better to buy something?” he observed, seeing the blond’s clear tiredness.

 

“I won't go to a supermarket, I'll waste more time,” he explained half-heartedly, unwilling to continue the conversation. Dabi had to leave as soon as possible. “I don't eat processed food either, it's crap.”

 

"Well, I'll leave you in the way. You'd waste time, but not that much," he replied.

 

“No. Go fuck yourself,” he said bluntly, clenching his hand into a fist.

 

“Did what I said upset you that much?” I asked, but I didn’t leave any room for an answer. “We have very different ideologies, but other than that, we get along. Bridge that gap, honey. Don’t get so personal,” he said lazily.

 

“Staff? Are you an idiot or what’s wrong with you?” He clenched his fists even tighter.

 

“I don't like your way of thinking either, you know? But that doesn't affect the relationship. There's no affection involved, we just fuck. So why worry?” he continued.

 

He wasn't wrong, and he didn't want him to think Bakugo was developing any affection, when that clearly wasn't the case. In fact, he'd already decided this would be the last time they'd see each other. He couldn't do it as a hero, or as a person.

 

“You suck,” he replied, starting down the stairs, with Dabi following him. He grabbed his keys and money and hurriedly opened the door. The less time he spent with the dark-haired man, the better. He still couldn't believe all the crap that had come out of his mouth.

 

Dabi handed him his helmet, put it on, and they quickly began the journey, the blond trying to stay as close to the burned idiot as possible. Dabi's hair flapped in the wind, as did his long jacket. They arrived at the first supermarket in the area, and Dabi parked. He handed the helmet back to him as quickly as they arrived, moving away a little, establishing a distance, uncomfortable.

 

Dabi, who was holding the motorcycle with one foot and was still sitting on it, with his fingers tucked into his jacket.

 

“See you, kitty,” he said, almost slowly, but with no intention of moving.

“Tch, you burned idiot,” he grunted, turning around as he heard Dabi laugh, feeling his gaze.

 

He didn't notice a surprised face approaching him until it was right in front of him.

 

“Kariage?” I ask incredulously.

 

“Kat…suki?” he replied, the cigarette almost falling from his lips. “Oh, sorry. It’s been a while, huh?”

 

“I…” he looked back. Dabi was watching them. He looked back at Kariage in front of him. He had a new tattoo on his arm, covering almost all of his skin. Suddenly, he put an arm around his shoulder, as if they were the same ones they had been when they were 14. He didn’t resist; they hadn’t seen each other in a long time, and he appreciated Kariage, just a little.

 

“I miss you, dude. You walked into UA and disappeared,” he continued, and Katsuki noticed he was now a few inches taller than him. Dabi kept staring. Why the hell hadn’t he left yet?

 

He dragged him into the supermarket, and he let himself be dragged without understanding. From inside, he stared at Dabi, and Kariage looked back at him, still holding his cigarette. He picked it up and threw it away, stamping on the floor; smoking wasn't allowed indoors.

 

From a distance, he saw the dark-haired man smile and wave at him before putting on his helmet and starting the motorcycle, driving through the red light. He was sure this was done explicitly to annoy him even more. He let go of Kariago's sleeve and let out a frustrated groan, resting his forehead on his hand.

 

“Well that was… strange” he wanted to continue talking but Katsuki interrupted him.

 

“Shut up, Kariage,” he huffed, still nervously searching the food aisle, fully alert.

 

“Okay, okay,” he replied, but he definitely didn’t know how to keep quiet. “Katsuki, that guy… even at UA, you still get along badly? First Dehisa and I, and now some crazy guy with a bunch of piercings who drives you around on a motorcycle.”

 

Katsuki still didn't respond, trying to ignore his bad decisions.

 

“He doesn't even go to UA. He's not from the area, nor is he from there. He looks older. How did you meet him, Katsuki? Are you involved in something weird?” he continued questioning, walking behind him, trying to catch up.

 

He still didn't respond.

 

“Suki,” he whispered, taking him by the shoulders, making him respond. He was biting his lip, his brow furrowed. “Are you okay?”

 

“I… guess I made a bad decision,” he replied, as if he were a child caught in a lie.

 

“A bad decision?” he ask.

 

“Something like that, yeah. But don’t fuck around, I’ll figure it out.” He turned around and continued walking stiffly.

 

“Wait, wait,” disbelief flashed across his face. “I get it. You fucked him, didn’t you?”

 

“Kariage!” he shouted, grabbing him by the arm and slamming him into a cooler of Coca-Cola bottles, knocking some over on impact.

 

“Ouch,” he said, holding his shoulder, “that just confirms it.”

 

“I’ll kill you, idiot! Not another word of that,” he blushed.

 

“Okay, okay,” he replied, raising his hands in redemption. “So, Suki, you’re not a virginal teenager anymore!” He clutched his chest and twirled around like a lovelorn teenager in a movie.

 

Bakugo breathed several times before answering, because he didn't want to attract attention. "Fuck off," he replied tiredly.

 

“Sensitive as always. But I don’t understand what the problem is,” he said, digging his hands into his pockets and reaching for him, deciding he’d already annoyed the blond enough; he’d rather avoid getting hurt.

 

“He has a strange ideology,” he replied.

 

“Weird? How weird?” I turned my face, not understanding.

 

“He doesn’t know who I am,” he whispered, crossing his arms and looking away.

 

“Oh, he doesn’t know you’re a hero,” he handed him a sashimi, knowing the blond’s tastes by heart. “Wait, weird ideologies…” he put two and two together.

 

“Yes,” he replied, taking the tray. Kariage’s expression twisted in distaste.

 

“That ideology?” he hinted just in case.

 

“Yes, that ideology,” he confirmed.

 

“Oh, shit,” he grimaced in disgust.

 

“Yeah, oh shit.” I mimic his grimace.

 

“He must never know, Suki,” said as a conspiracy theorist.

 

"I don't think I'll see him again," he began to walk to pay. "It was a terrible mistake," he was grateful to Kariage, because he needed someone to tell him he wasn't the one who was crazy.

 

“Yeah, good decision,” he replied. Bakugo paid, and they left the supermarket. Kariage lit another cigarette, and the blond was tired enough to complain.

He saw Aunt Inko in the distance, who was looking at him in surprise. Seriously, he came to meet everyone when he didn't have to meet anyone?

 

He turned around, as if he hadn't seen him, Kariage followed him.

 

“Wasn’t your house the other way?” he asked, still following him and pointing in the opposite direction.

 

“We’ll turn around. Deku’s mom was there, I’m sure he saw me,” he grunted in annoyance, turning the corner and quickening his pace to cross it.

 

“Deku? I saw him at the sports festival. It was definitely cool,” he replied alongside the blond, still unfinished.

 

“Tch, don’t ruin this by talking about that idiot,” he sulked, putting his hands in his pockets and glaring at anyone who crossed his path.

 

“Okay, it’s still a sensitive topic. Still, you’ve changed a little since you entered UA! I’m glad, Suki,” he hung over his shoulder, cigarette smoke hitting his face.

 

“Get that shit out of my face!” he yelled, but didn’t move away.

 

They continued on their way to Katsuki's house talking about mundane things.

 

“Yeah, I’m telling you. I haven’t spoken to Dehisa since he started at that school,” he gestured with his hands. He seemed pretty excited today, he thought. Kariage was usually carefree and always had that idiotic expression on his face that made him not care about anything.

 

“That shitty school? The art school?” he asked.

 

“Yes, yes. That one,” he replied, combing his unruly hair a little.

 

“And you, what the hell do you do?” I question, feeling like I was mixed up in some weird stuff. Kariage had always been mixed up in some weird stuff with older people.

 

“You already know the answer, Suki,” he shrugged. There was the normal Kariage, the one who didn’t care about anything. I couldn’t judge him; his life was shit.

 

“Tch,” he didn’t bother to reply. They continued in comfortable silence, Katsuki frowning, and Kariage with his carefree smile.

 

Upon reaching the door, Kariage asked to exchange numbers so they could stay in touch. He quickly hugged him and told him how happy he was to see him. With his number saved as "Kari," Bakugo walked into his house fairly calmly, distracted by his high school friend. At least he had someone to talk to about his idiocy, since the other teenager was even worse in that regard.

 

It didn't last long. His peace never lasted.

 

And the worst part was that he'd gotten himself into trouble. He'd made shitty decisions, his idiocy had reached an unprecedented level, and he started changing the dirty sheets, the ones he'd changed with so much emotion. This time, there was no one to blame but himself.

 

What an idiot. A blind idiot, too.

 

He'd noticed Dabi wasn't normal; he'd noticed the almost sadistic glint in his eyes, his blank stare. Everything about him screamed how messed up he was, and he dove right in anyway, because he couldn't calm his shitty emotions, immature as ever. His burns, his jokes.

 

He’d noticed it from day one, because he was perceptive. As perceptive as Dabi was.

 

He had decided to ignore it.

 

And he'd ended up letting a hero-killer fan, someone who hated hero society, fuck him. He'd thought it was funny, that it was cool, that his weirdness was what made him more appealing. But Dabi supported his death, simply for being a hero-in-training. He supported the deaths Stain had carried out, the wounds he'd left. How he'd broken, in some ways, what he'd built.

 

He had failed as a hero and as a person by being careless. What would have happened if he told him who he was? What would Dabi have done?

 

It was always him, the idiot, his sensitive heart, like his father's. Hadn't he done enough already?

 

None of his friends would have made the decisions he did. Deku had never done what he did. He was always better than him; a better person, a better hero.

 

He curled up in the sheets, curling into a ball, drowning in his negative feelings. He felt betrayed, but he and Dabi were nothing more than strangers having sex.

 

How could I ruin everything, always?

 

It was nothing. It didn't matter what he did, what he said, what he tried.

 

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he held them back. He had to be strong; he couldn't just…

 

He stood up and walked over to his desk. Dabi had dropped his pack of cigarettes and lighter. In a fit of rage, he screamed in frustration and threw everything off the table, tears streaming down his face. He'd caused all of this; it was his fault.

 

He realized that what hurt him the most wasn't that Dabi followed the ideals of the hero killer, as he had so calmly stated.

 

No, what hurt was how Dabi had still moved through his body with something resembling gentleness. How he'd kept him grounded, yet taken him to the clouds. How it had been his escape from everything and everyone. How Bakugo had enjoyed it. How he'd given him the same pleasure in return, and how he'd also looked at him with a hint of sweetness when they'd fucked.

 

Just like in his head, Dabi wasn't so bad. He knew how to approach him, treated him with care, joked around, and wasn't bothered by his attitude. He brought it up, but he enjoyed it. he laughed when he spoke. his head mixed it all up.

 

Even though it was just fucking, and there was nothing there, Dabi had given him the sense of security and calm he'd needed, when he'd needed it most. That time, he saw it in a special way.

 

He'd been the only one who never expected him to change his temper, his language, or his way of being. He'd never complained, mocked, yes; and laughed too. He didn't expect anything from him; he didn't have to be the best, not even good. He could just be. He'd captured his essence as quickly as anyone else had. Bakugo hadn't judged his strange ways either; was he even in a position to judge Dabi?

 

Something had happened to him; Dabi hadn't been saved by a hero, he supposed. That's why he thought that, right? He spoke so casually about the unconventional, the gifts, and the heroes, that it was clear he himself had been through something that had led him to follow that ideology.

 

He seemed steadfast and loyal to him. Bakugo wasn't the one to change him; that wasn't the kind of relationship they had. But deep down, he felt compassion.

 

Isn't that what heroes did?

 

He thought that perhaps his gift had something to do with cold or heat; he was always very cold, but he lost control when he approached climax. Then his burns could be explained. If his skin reached such high temperatures that they even burned him, perhaps he had ended up roasting himself.

 

Even his hips contained marks of two hands.

 

He was disappointed in himself. For getting involved in things he shouldn't have, for making so many stupid mistakes. For having met Dabi. If that hadn't happened, he wouldn't be feeling what he feels now.

 

He made shitty decisions. Everything was shitty. He was shitty.

 

He couldn't even tell if Dabi was right or wrong; he'd been told horrible things at the sports festival, harshly criticized, chained up, and when the sludge villain attacked, the heroes wouldn't help him. He was saved because he held on thanks to his Quirk until All Might showed up.

 

All might. 

 

The card that won that day with Deku.

 

That video.

 

Yes, he would be a hero. All Might was his motivation. Clarity came like a candle lit in the darkness. Hero Society might be shit, there might be shitty heroes, but he would never be like that. He would follow the example of All Might, Best Jeanist, Aizawa, and all the UA heroes who were in charge of training him as a hero. If Hero Society was shit, he would take it upon himself to fix it from within.

 

He would be the greatest hero. No one had the right to take away his dream, much less his motivation. No one had the right to take away the life of someone trying to do good.

 

He was angry at Dabi for making him think that way. He was true to his dream, he was true to himself.

And that was something no one could take away from him.

Notes:

Hello again! Here's a new chapter. In this fic, I'll take Dabi's innocence regarding love as referenced in the Smash comics. Canonically, Dabi isn't a fuckboy, but rather someone with a hard life, who, while experienced in sex, lacks experience in love. That's why both of them find it hard to let go of that affection or sweetness, even knowing that those limits shouldn't be crossed in purely physical relationships. Yes, they're romantics. While they like each other and appreciate that there's something special, they haven't yet developed what love is, it is very early for being in love! But is obvious that is something there.

Thanks for reading! <3

Chapter 3: a quiet camp... or not?

Summary:

Dabi and Bakugo live their separate lives, showing a little behind the scenes before the disaster.

His fight with All Might had been a mediocre piece of shit.

 

He had learned the relentless power of the number one hero, realizing that everything about him—his speed, strength, reflexes, and awareness, his battle style and his ability to predict his next move—was simply superior; there was nothing more to explain.

 

He had tried to help him, but his words had only disgusted him, and deep down, he wished he could have Dabi to shoulder the burden with his strange methods, which, however questionable, were functional. On the other hand, he had spoken to Deku with affection.

 

Deku… he thought.

 

he had saved him, carrying him to the finish line half-conscious, covered in vomit, and barely able to move his arms from overexertion he shouldn't have done. But he should never have expected that he wouldn't come out unharmed after fighting All Might.

 

He had lost to All Might, and they had only just passed the test thanks to that damn Deku. He had been stubborn and proud, having to take many blows before realizing that he really had to work with him if he wanted to win. He hadn't liked it, it had hurt his pride, and also his heart. It had destroyed his body, but he had no regrets. He would win the way he wanted, no matter the consequences, something that no one in this world seemed to understand. He had been acclaimed all his life, and suddenly, no one was choosing him. All Might's affection for Deku... he also wanted to show how much he liked the hero, how much he wanted to be one. Why did no one see it? What did Deku have that he didn't?

He had slept for a whole day, not counting the entire afternoon and evening of the exam. Deku's back was bent, so much so that it made him feel uncomfortable to look at him.

 

Apparently, his friends had failed the practical exam; Sero thought they had, since the annoying Mineta had done all the work. Still, their teacher and his rational lies had decided that everyone would go to summer camp.

 

He sat in class, patiently waiting for Aizawa to name who had failed. He was distracted and wanted to go home, feeling the fabric of his uniform brush against him, causing an unpleasant sensation on his skin. He shifted in his seat and tapped his pencil against the desk.

 

He put his hand in his pocket, playing with a certain special lighter.

 

The lighter Dabi had left at home. It was an electrifying turquoise, with skulls painted on it; it reminded him of Dabi in every way, like everything about him screamed "fire," the turquoise of his eyes and the skulls as reminiscent of death as he was. He touched the button that lit it, the plastic worn and slippery thanks to his sweat. It has been really hot lately.

 

He didn't even know why he brought it with him. It was embarrassing to think about; he lit the flame to calm his nerves, thinking of Dabi. That afternoon, in his room, after a round of passionate sex, he remembers how his piercings shone in the sunlight as it set on the horizon, its light bathing the dark-haired man's pale, burnt body and highlighting his beauty.

 

So little time had passed since then, and the memory felt very distant.

 

He decided he would leave Dabi behind, and he did. He didn't text, call, or search for his number in his phone's contacts list. Without a doubt, he had been exiled from his life.

 

Too bad, they had a good time.

 

His nerves made him sink so low that he resorted to using memories to calm himself. He didn't want to think about the lighter, which represented the calm he once felt, the calm Dabi had once made him feel.

 

His key was gone, his plan was ruined the moment Dabi's monologue came out of his mouth, and he wasn't motivated to meet anyone else. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

 

So I had to endure as best I could.

 

It hadn't been Dabi himself, he convinced himself, it couldn't be.

 

Those were the moments he'd given his, as if it were all simple. It was what they'd done that he missed; surely if he did it with someone else it would work just as well; sex can't be that special, but how do all the people who decide to do it without love involved do it?

 

It had been so simple and yet so complex.

 

He'd touched it so lazily, staring at it. He'd paid attention to how he felt. His chest tightened; lately, he didn't feel like anyone noticed how he felt, how the change had affected him, how touching reality with his own hands had affected him.

 

Dabi was his first time; something he could never forget. He had taught him what passion was, he had accompanied him as he heard the very thing that marked him as "innocent." It hadn't just been the loss of his virginity; Dabi was living proof that he knew a different kind of reality.

 

Why, of all people, did he have to be a follower of Stain?

 

Maybe it would be so simple if I didn't mix things up, like he said.

 

Everything had been a mess lately, and his distraction hadn't been there. Should he look for someone else? How could he fix this problem?

 

He had to deal with the lack of the sensations that what they had done had given him afterwards: stability, calm, and peace.

Jesus, he should have considered the consequences the night he got on that motorcycle with a complete stranger; his foot tapped against the floor, without even listening to what his teacher was saying.

 

How could something that felt so good, at the same time, be so wrong?

 

So many questions and no answers. He decided then that the memory of what he'd done shouldn't be seen as a good thing, but as a reminder of what he shouldn't repeat. Learning from his mistakes, yes. Dabi was simply good at sex, but that shouldn't tempt him.

 

The whole class was getting ready to leave, so he figured it was time for him to get up too. He gathered his things, trying to find calm, which was lacking more than it should have been. He packed, closed, and shouldered his backpack, heavy as ever. But worse was the burden he felt for his actions. But was it even that terrible? They didn't share ideals, so what?

 

No, he couldn't… he just couldn't.

 

How did that even cross his mind? He was loyal to the heroes.

 

Did that even have anything to do with it? Was it guilt eating away at him?

 

Dabi was someone with a different ideology. An ideology that hurt him, that had hurt people on his side.

 

Was Stain more than just a murderer? Everyone was talking about a video he didn't bother watching, Deku recounting how the man's ideology was so strong it paralyzed you with fear...

 

Was there anything to reflect on there? Anything worthwhile? Perhaps it was simply a critique of today's society.

 

So many questions and no answers, he repeated in his mind as he stared out the window, watching the wind carry the leaves off the trees, his grip on the lighter tight. Everyone in the class was starting to shout, talking about going to the mall, and he decided he'd think about it later, leaving before anyone insisted he go too.

 

“Hey, Bakugo! You should come too,” Kirishima approached him.

 

"I would never do something as annoying as that," he replied, annoyed by the ridiculousness of the situation, as if they weren't heroes in training. He had to focus on what was important.

 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

 

Back home, after training to the point of death, he watched the group chat filled with messages. It was already dark, the temperature had dropped slightly, and the wind had increased, giving him a bit of peace amidst all the torment caused by summer.

 

He opened the messages when the chat surpassed two hundred unread messages, determined to silence it.

 

He was shocked to read that the damn Shigaraki had appeared to Deku, threatening and talking about Stain, where rosy cheeks found them, causing the league leader to leave.

 

Deku was okay, it sounded like a relief, no one was hurt.

 

He had hinted at an upcoming attack.

 

What did the league have to do with them? Couldn't they have a normal year?

 

The USJ had already been enough to bring them back down to earth.

 

Damn the league of villains.

 

Damn Dabi too, by the way.

 

At that very moment, a message from the newly appointed man arrived.

 

How did you do on your exam?

don't answer, don't answer, he urged…

 

And what do you care?

 

Okay, I know you didn't like what I said the other day.

 

I'm going to be busy for a few days.

 

When I get back, if you still want to talk to me, we'll chat.

better about that.

 

I promise. 

 

fuck u, patches.

 

I didn't want anything from him. Not anymore.

 

But why wouldn't I want to talk to him? Dramatic.

 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

 

Okay, to say the leader of the League of Villains was strange, unpleasant, and scruffy was simply an understatement. That guy was disgusting, his eyes always bathed in blood, the sound of his nails tearing at the skin that seemed to bother him so much, and his dirty red Converse gave him the look of a creepy guy addicted to Nintendo and Mortal Kombat.

 

The guy who had attacked him and the crazy woman currently sitting next to him, the one who had stormed off like an immature child, and then given him a nomu in good faith, would he be their leader?

 

That one, the one the weird guy from the portals, apparently named Kurogiri, was telling him not to rock on the chair anymore because he'd fall off?

 

Yes, in front of the recently created Vanguard Action Squad from the league of villains themselves.

 

So, sitting at a circular table surrounded by murderers and madmen, he felt a little more normal. He wasn't that crazy, nor had he committed any crimes. Yet.

 

It would start off strong, being part of a group considered terrorist, but that would come later. Right now they had met to begin learning a plan that they would apparently carry out. This shit was awkward; the last meeting, and the first one, had been in a desolate, empty warehouse, but now they would begin the plan.

 

His imposing boots scraping the floor, he was sorely tempted to light a cigarette.

 

“You, Dabi,” Shigaraki pointed at him, “how are you doing with the nomu?”

 

"I think we're friends now. A beast, but quite obedient," he replied with a smile. He had quite enjoyed training that monster. He took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, lighting it with the new lighter he'd had to buy. He missed the old one; it had been stylized by his own tastes.

 

he smiled at the screen when he saw the scathing response from Katsuki, the blond he'd fucked about twice. The one he remembered quite often.

 

“What did you call it?” he asked, slightly annoyed at the lack of attention he was getting from Dabi, who was with a lit cigarette in his mouth, his posture relaxed and his cell phone illuminating the staples and jewelry he had in his nose and ears, smiling.

 

“Name?” he questioned, was I supposed to give it a name?

 

“Yes,” Shigaraki replied impatiently, starting to get restless. he was getting on his nerves, and he made sure to enjoy it to the fullest. He enjoyed getting on people’s nerves, he enjoyed seeing the reaction of someone when he got on his nerves with “Lil Kitty”

 

"lil… kitty ?" he asked as if that wasn't what he said.

 

“Yes,” he shrugged, suppressing another smile. That Nomu was strong and fierce, but also easy enough to understand once you got inside him; similar to some blond man with blood-red eyes and a gnawing rage.

 

He knew the boy was special from the moment he saw him there, in that bar, sitting stiffly and watching the others as if analyzing what they were doing. In reality, he didn't seem to know exactly what he was doing sitting there; he looked out of place in his well-designed sportswear and his well-toned muscles. But his face told a very different story, which is why he approached.

 

I noticed him staring at him from a distance, getting nervous; he was amused at the time, and he was also amused to remember it now. He hadn't seemed to know how to react when he sat down next to him, or when he spoke to him, or at any time, now that he thought about it.

 

Lost, dizzy, that's what he seemed. Abandoned.

 

It had been fun talking to him, and fucking him too.

 

Yes, the blond was a beautiful work of art, with his sudden attacks, his sharpness, and his fury. His flushed face, immersed in lust and on the verge of tears, had haunted him for days. So much so that he felt compelled to call him, something he never did. It felt strange to hear his irritated voice, yelling at him.

 

He wasn't surprised to discover his mild masochism, his fondness for praise, or the vulnerability that surrounded him, a vulnerability he seemed to deny and want to push away as if it didn't exist; as if he would disappear if he ignored it. He had read him like an open book.

 

But he was surprised when he defended the heroes so fervently, taking his words as a personal attack. It upset him, but it wasn't so personal that he decided to walk away, if it was just about fucking...

 

How sad, because he didn't seem to think the same.

 

It wasn't so terrible. Katsuki was probably what the others referred to as a "fad"; they'd had quite a bit of fun the two times they'd been together, and Dabi could identify with some of his instability, and understand it too.

 

He liked seeing his strong personality and how he defended his ideals with such fervor, a grumpy and questionable person who seemed to try to fit in with what society imposes on him as "normality", although he seemed to have a fairly strong moral compass, as well as his loyalties. Maybe his brain corrupted by hero society wasn't that fun, but playing with it until he corrupted it himself would definitely be, the idea of ​​giving him that dose of reality made him smile.

 

He didn't look like the bar crowd he'd frequented that time. he didn't even know how he'd ended up there. A handsome, socially well-off eighteen-year-old, a good person with loving parents, from the look of that photo, stuck in a dangerous bar; he'd gotten involved with Dabi, ignorant of who or what he was, having fallen for the first-rate "deception," though it didn't count as deception or a lie per se, because Dabi never mentioned anything. Although he seemed pretty smart, he'd tidied up his room that time, thinking he wouldn't notice, and had casually left the hero posters up...

 

He was either very stupid or very smart.

 

he was possibly the only person he'd ever established a bond with, aside from all the benefits he could bring to his plan. He tended to view everything and everyone as a disposable tool, but how useful would a civilian he only slept with be?

 

Katsuki had managed to make him empathize with him a little, and now he didn't see him as a simple tool. he never saw him that way, because he wasn't planning on fucking him back that night; after all, he realized he couldn't just let go of what had been so good. he could enjoy it a little longer before messing with the league and ruining everything, thus setting in motion his perfect plan.

 

He'd already entered the league, and the blond probably didn't want to see him back; he'd failed the test. He'd followed Katsuki's plan and his posters to see how willing he was to stick with it when his face appeared on the news, and he wasn't wrong when he realized how inflexible he was in that area. He was still too closed-minded, his mind screwed by the disgusting society they lived in.

 

he probably wouldn't even go to the police to tell them what they did for that very reason; he'd feel guilty and ashamed. It's better that way.

 

Otherwise, he'd have to kill him; He didn't want to see the horror on such a beautiful face, not with what they'd done to him.

 

“We should get started, Shigaraki Tomura,” Kurogiri said. The small bar was warmly lit, as if they weren’t planning another attack on Hero Society.

 

“Yes! Let’s begin, Tomura!” the crazy woman next to him, named Himiko Toga, shouted happily, playing with a knife that looked freshly sharpened. He rolled his eyes in disgust, letting out an “ugh.” he earned several disgusted looks, but who cared? He certainly didn’t.

 

Shigaraki began to explain how, according to an informant, the Hero Academy that held society together, the beloved UA, would send its students to summer camp, for reasons he cared little about. He was glad; he would be able to see Enji's masterpiece himself; he would be able to see his younger brother.

 

After a lot of unnecessary talk they moved on to the objective, a kidnapping.

 

"This boy, the winner of the sports festival, is the one we're going to kidnap," he said, while passing around a photo of someone he knew very well.

 

Ash-blond hair, unruly and his ruby ​​eyes, the anger inside him.

 

His blondie, Katsuki, was in reality Katsuki Bakugou.

 

“He's a big target. The press questioned him quite a bit when his aggressive exterior came to light,” Shigaraki continued. “He was the victim of the mud villain accident; he fought at the USJ. He's fierce and unstable.”

 

"Great," the guy called Muscular spoke for the first time. I'd heard about how he'd killed two heroes while on the run.

 

"If we take advantage of that side of him, his instability," a mask-wearing figure added at his side, with a strangely theatrical tone, "it would be a crushing blow to society, to the UA, and to the entire hero system."

 

“That’s true. He’s perfect in every way; he possesses a great quirk, raw strength, and a heightened intelligence,” Kurogiri noted.

 

"Your ties with his colleagues seem to be a bit unstable due to his personality," he continued, pouring whiskey and signaling for him to pour it too. Too much information.

 

“If we mold all that anger, it would be indestructible.” Dabi gulped down the newly received glass. He watched Shigaraki gesture to Kurogiri, referring to a TV. “We’ll watch all the sports festival content,” they all nodded reluctantly.

 

Needless to say, he was amazed when he saw his fights, his way of acting, his undoubted strength and intellect.

 

Perhaps, in the end, it was he himself who had fallen into one trap after another.

 

Maybe it would be something useful since he wasn't a normal civilian, although even thinking about it left a taste in his mouth that he refused to acknowledge, not as something important.

 

Everything made sense. The Katsuki he saw on TV, being booed and chained, was so similar yet so different at the same time.

 

Fierce, furious, and strong, but not vulnerable. Had Dabi known that side of him he so refused to let on? How amazing and twisted at the same time. That same boy, destroying opponent after opponent, even his own brother, had been beneath him, moaning his name, naive and trusting almost blindly.

 

He smiled.

 

Everything makes sense, an unstable and angry young man, making bad decisions, conflicted within himself, pretending to be self-confident with an inflated ego to cover up his insecurity. He liked praise, and also taking a little damage. He enjoyed it all.

 

Fuck it, how fucked up everything was.

 

Wait, wait… young man?

 

Katsuki Bakugo was 16 years old, and in a few months he would turn 17. He hadn't just turned eighteen.

 

Fate had definitely had fun bringing them together this way.

 

He himself had fallen for Bakugo's implicit lies, just as the blond had fallen for his own.

 

He'd slept with someone three, soon to be four, years younger than him. Fuck it. He was definitely crazy, twisted and a bit sadistic, a liar and everything else that was wrong, but he wasn't. That kind of people. Everything they'd done was completely consensual; He didn't want the guilt tormenting him, thank you.

 

The shock had completely robbed him of his ability to think, and the others continued talking about how to take advantage of how much the hero society had repressed the blond.

 

He lit another cigarette.

 

He'd done something crazy. And he had fun doing it, wondering how crazy he was because it didn't bother him; it made him smile. Bakugo would probably hate him after this, but come on, he was going to be able to forget about Dabi as little as he could forget about the blond.

 

Fate had had fun bringing them together in this way.

 

He focused on the league chatter, realizing they were all talking nonsense. For better or worse, Dabi knew the boy better, better even than his closest friends, even though they'd only met twice. He knew him intimately different .

 

“He won’t accept,” he chimed in, silencing the voices talking over each other. He shrugged, not caring much. Seeing the confusion on the other idiots’ faces, he explained, “Look at him. He fought with everything he had despite the hatred he received for his goal, refusing to accept it because he didn’t earn it the way he wanted.”

 

“Yes, but what’s so heroic about that?”

 

"Everything. If he's so loyal to heroism, which we can already see he is by being involved with the UA and wanting to win his festival, the boy won't accept. He'll win the way he wants, or he won't win at all," he analyzed, standing and pointing at the image. "His faith in heroism is unwavering."

 

"Who says that? With the right words, we can manipulate him enough."

 

As if he were going to leave.

 

“Whatever you say, Boss,” he raised his hands in redemption, smiling lazily as always. He knew Shigaraki was annoyed by his constant indifference to everything; he’d already said enough; he couldn’t get too personal and talk as if he knew him, when he wasn’t supposed to. “Even if it goes wrong, we’ll destabilize the hero's society.”

 

"Whatever the outcome, whether they join or not, no one will forget that the UA itself could have been infiltrated at summer camp."

 

“Yes, it’s perfect! No, it’s a terrible idea!” Twice shouted, thrashing around. Seriously, He didn’t understand what a disorder This guy hadn't this type; not even everyone around him. The one who just kept saying "meat" as if he was going to eat them, the 14-year-old, or Shigaraki himself. Had he checked himself into a mental hospital or something? Overwhelming.

 

Ugh, when did the interesting shit start? he thought as his foot tapped the floor repeatedly, impatient. He'd always done that.

 

He was definitely going to enjoy this shit.

 

No wonder the blond had always been so tense, distrusting those he knew.

 

Dabi was probably the last person he wanted to meet. At least he fucked him well and decided to enjoy it as much as he could, calling him back that day, like a harbinger of what was to come. He definitely wouldn't find someone like Katsuki for a long time, no one who made him feel so strange. The fact that he was a hero, no matter how hard he tried to hate him, excited him even more. How twisted must he be to make him feel that way...

 

He decided to take it as a blessing; he didn't usually behave well with anyone, especially a hero. A little bit of his humanity remained intact in his soul, fallen into revenge and resentment.

 

He hadn't yet decided whether that was a comfort or a curse, but it was undoubtedly an obstacle to his goal.

 

Was Katsuki an obstacle too, or the opposite?

 

The hero in training had simply been lucky that a small part of Dabi empathized with him and liked him, but he was still a hero.

 

Life was a complex mess, he could think about that after kidnapping him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

 

This was his first lunch with his parents since they left for Venice, about two weeks ago. His father had prepared his signature spicy curry, just the way he liked it; tasty and hot, even though it was summer. Bakugo Masaru was too devout and calm for the other two Bakugou.

 

“Katsuki! I can’t believe you haven’t seen us in two weeks, and you don’t want to tell us anything about what you’ve done,” his mother shouted, irritated as always.

 

“And what the hell do you care what I do or don’t do?” he questioned, responding with the same aggressiveness.

 

“Brat, I’m your mother,” she hit him on the back of the head. “Inko told me she saw you with that friend of yours from middle school!” she yelled back, crossing her arms.

 

“Huh?! Are you a gossipy old woman now?” he rocked back in his chair in annoyance.

 

“Uh? Brat! What was his name? Karo, Kagarie…” he tried to remember.

 

“Kariage, darling,” his father answered, stroking his arm lovingly in an attempt to calm her.

 

“Yes! That one! I saw him smoking once!” he claimed, as if Katsuki were responsible for the young man’s clear addiction.

 

“What does that have to do with anything?!” he replied, rolling his eyes. If his mother was worried, Kariage was, in fact, the least of her worries.

 

“Kats, your mother is just worried,” his father translated into functional words, not shouts.

 

“Well, there’s nothing to worry about! End of story,” he swallowed curry to quell his urge to scream.

 

“You brat… aren’t you going to tell us what you did these past two weeks either?” he continued questioning.

 

“Well, what else am I going to do? I went to the UA,” he responded matter-of-factly.

 

“It’s okay, Honey. Don’t push him any further. You know that adolescence is complicated,” his father reassured, using reason.

 

“Hmp,” his mother said, playfully ruffling his hair. They smiled fiercely at each other.

 

His relationship with his mother was somewhat… complex. His family life was unconventional.

 

He was the son of a loving marriage, raised with love and affection; his mother had pursued his father like crazy, determined to have this man as hers, and Masaru, the calmest and most soothing man in the universe, had gone with the flow. They complemented each other, and sometimes Katsuki wondered if he would ever be able to love and be loved that way.

 

His mother was a woman as complicated as he was. Aggressive, sarcastic, and loud; direct and sincere, without any filter when it came to speaking. She was also polite and a good person, although his father said she stopped being so when someone touched his family. However, no one could have expected him to be anything other than her, when a child's maternal figure is probably the first example and the one they follow. Following generational patterns, his mother had instilled in him the meaning of weakness and strength, which was the origin of his self-destructive ideal; if he lost, he was weak. This only became more solidified when he met All Might.

 

She yelled and hit him as discipline, and he understood he was a difficult child, even though he didn't like it. If anyone was to blame, it was hers; also his father's, who never told him to stop or knew how to improve his attitude either. He didn't doubt his parents' love for him, of course not; he was a child of love, and he was the most beloved child. That doesn't mean his mother couldn't be negligent from time to time, unintentionally, without knowing what she was doing.

 

Even so, their bond would always be strong; his mother knew him like the back of her hand, and that's why she was so nosy. It was clear she noticed something different, even if she didn't know exactly what it was; but he didn't want her in on it. If only it were easier for them to open their hearts and talk about their feelings...

 

That was very complicated with two such proud people, at least in his sensitive heart he had inherited it from his father, his mother was a tough woman.

 

Of course they loved him, he loved them back. But no parent was perfect, and despite love, one can still hurt.

 

He wanted to, but it also hurt. How do you explain the Deku thing then?

 

His childhood best friend and possibly the person who had analyzed and known him the most; Deku was superior to him in so many ways, when he was supposed to always be behind him.

 

It was so annoying and insignificant…

 

And Katsuki had not behaved like a hero, feeling inferiority taking hold of him.

 

That was probably what his parents didn't understand.

Dinner passed with shouting and lots of noise, as usual. He washed and put away the dishes and food so his parents could get a decent rest after the flight.

 

That night he slept peacefully.

 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

 

Once he'd eaten lunch, tidied up, and studied, he decided to train. Until Kirishima showed up at his house unannounced and was greeted by a surprised Mitsuki, who happily let him in. Sitting with his parents, Kirishima seemed like a radiant, talkative ray of sunshine, recounting what life at UA was like, everything Katsuki wasn't sharing.

 

He'd come with the goal of convincing him to go to the UA pools to train before camp, where they'd go tomorrow. Deku had texted in the class group, and he'd ignored the messages; it was weird that Mineta and Kaminari wanted to train. Deku really seemed out of place there. He refused to show up, of course, but he was already in the Bakugou's clutches, and Mitsuki had practically forced him to go. If at least they couldn't go on vacation because of camp and UA's request due to the risk of being attacked again, at least he could do something, right?

 

He actually spent an hour refusing, with Mitsuki yelling and Kirishima laughing at their strange family dynamic.

 

They'd had a pretty good time, actually. From what he understood, they'd been training for endurance until he and Kirishima arrived, and he'd set up the competition to challenge Deku and Todoroki; it was a crapshoot, and it was clear that it would be him, Deku, and Todoroki who would compete for first place; that was his goal, to prove he was better than both of them. He'd gotten really angry when Aizawa arrived and forced them to leave, saying his time was up.

 

Now, he walked home with Kirishima, complaining about the behavior of his tired teacher, who never left anything up for discussion.

 

“Damn! Why did you stop him like that?” he shouted while kicking a rock.

 

“I understand, but calm down,” the ever-calming redhead replied. “Midoriya and Todoroki are your classmates and friends, right?”

 

“Shut up! No matter who it is, I won’t let them surpass me,” he shouted with his raspy voice directly in his face. “Isn’t that what it means to be better than All Might?”

 

“How manly, Bakugo!” He clenched his fist, smiling. “I thought you were doing better lately, but since the end-of-semester exams…”

 

“Leave that alone, shitty hair,” he looked away. Kirishima always noticed him, always worried and always there for him.

 

“I know it’s hard to talk about,” I take his arm, “but I’m worried, Bakubro. You’re my closest friend, the first one I made at UA.”

 

“Don’t get sentimental,” he blurted out, but he looked into his eyes and saw his sadness. “We’re best friends, Kiri; but it’s… complicated.”

 

“I’m here to listen to you, always remember that,” he clarified, smiling back, the fading sunlight illuminating that horrible hairstyle he always wore. In fact, I could see the roots of his black hair clearly peeking through.

 

“Yeah, I know. When I entered UA, everything went to shit.” He looked away, embarrassed. He wasn’t doing all this because he wanted to, but to reassure Kirishima. It was a matter of trust, right? The redhead would be happy.

 

“These are big changes, I was very nervous! Even if the villains attack us, our class is special!” he said with as much enthusiasm as ever.

 

“I guess so” He continued walking “I know my personality isn’t nice”

 

“You’re so manly and you lift the spirits of the class, Bakugo! What are you saying?” he was amazed.

 

“I don’t expect you to understand,” he snorted, suddenly annoyed.

 

“No, no; of course I understand. I wasn’t brave in middle school. I got really depressed for a while because I wanted to be a hero, but I felt like I didn’t have the courage to do it,” he explained, continuing. “You were always great. It’s part of you that gives strength to the class. I understand what Midoriya sees in you, friend.” He patted him on the shoulder in a friendly manner.

 

“The sports festival…”

 

“Those who booed you weren’t real heroes, they shouldn’t have forced you to accept first place, I…” he looked away.

 

“You had no say,” she hit him on the back of the head, reproaching him.

 

“Is that what’s bothering you?” she looked at him again.

 

“Partly, I guess. I was always the best at everything, but at UA there are people way better than me, no matter how hard I try,” his voice cracked, and he saw the concern in his friend.

 

“Bakugo, you're possibly the strongest person I know. You're good at everything you do. You can't push yourself that hard. It's not human, you know?” He leaned closer.

 

"I have to be the best, I'm supposed to... everyone expects that from me. But everyone is better than me."

 

“No! You don't have to focus on what others expect of you, nor on self-imposed standards; they're impossible to achieve. Humans are never perfect.”

 

If Kirishima knew what he had done…

 

“Okay, I don’t like this shit,” his friend’s disappointment was obvious, “but thanks,” he whispered.

 

“No, thank you for trusting me, bro!” He lightly shoved him with his shoulder.

 

He swallowed the lump in his throat and played with his lighter again. They continued walking until they reached the Bakugos' house, where Mitsuki pressured the poor redheaded young man to stay the night.

 

“My things are at home, tomorrow is camp…”

 

“Don’t insist any more, annoying witch,” he shouted, trying to save his friend.

 

"We could stop by your house to get whatever you need. Excuse Mitsuki, she's excited because you're the first friend he's brought home." the first friend?

 

“The first decent friend, you mean. With such bad company, those criminals…” she began to complain back.

 

“Don’t fuck with that again!” he replied, and turned to his friend. “Do you want to stay or not, shitty hair? I don’t have all day.”

 

“Of course I want to! But it’s my hair…” he said desperately, debating whether to stay with his depressed friend and sacrifice his hair, or vice versa.

 

“Ugh yeah, I can see them from here,” he frowned, directing his gaze at the black roots.

 

“That’s not very nice of you,” he put his hand to the back of his neck.

 

“Ugh, I’ll paint it for you,” he pushed him toward his parents’ car. “Dude, come on.”

 

He met his friend's sweet mothers, bought him the perfect shade of red hair dye from his favorite brand, and they grabbed their things to head home. They had dinner, chatting comfortably, and it was almost time for bed when they decided it was a good time to dye Kirishima's hair.

 

He read the instructions repeatedly, determined that it couldn't be that difficult.

 

"Don't put it on my skin, it won't go away for days," he begged as he sat him down in his bathroom, in front of the mirror, with an old pair of clothes and a towel at hand. he wet his hair and, wearing gloves, applied the mixture they had previously made, roughly, leaving no space. They waited twenty minutes in pointless conversation.

 

“I can't believe you're dyeing my hair,” he laughed, pulling out his phone and starting to record, showing them both in the mirror. He made obscene gestures and rolled his eyes in annoyance. “And I can't believe Best Jeanist had to force you to create a public Instagram account.”

 

“It’s crap,” he replied, sulking, sitting on the floor.

 

“I know you make sure you go up as little as possible to bother him,” he mocked, looking closely at himself in the mirror.

 

“Of course! I don’t understand what the hell it’s going to do.” He stretched his feet, staring intently at his friend, who was making ridiculous gestures.

 

"Your public opinion is a bit complicated. I think I'll commit to you posting more; everyone knows you go to the gym and the weights you lift. You have a huge following there," he shrugged.

 

“I don’t give a shit. I have a private life,” he said, standing up when Kirishima gestured to let him know it was time to take out the product.

 

“Well, I already uploaded it and tagged you, think about it, everyone knows you’re a cool best friend,” he replied with a smile, sticking his head in the sink.

 

“You’re not a good person at all, shitty hair,” he heard his friend laugh, and he pushed his head against the sink and turned on the water, drowning him slightly. He didn’t have gloves on, he realized, but his hands were already stained. He roughly pulled the product out, hearing Kirishima make sounds of pain, seeking sympathy.

 

he made sure to soak him in the process in revenge. As soon as he let go, he abruptly stepped away, and even without seeing clearly, he grabbed the first towel he found.

 

“Kirishima,” he called out in horror as he saw the towel stained a deep red.

 

“W-what?” he replied fearfully.

 

“That… this towel,” he pointed, “is my mother’s favorite.”

 

He saw the horror on his friend's face. "Oh, shit."

 

He glanced at the sink, which looked like the victim of a crime scene. His frown deepened.

 

“I forgot to tell you that it stained… a lot,” he said in a panic, after minutes of silence.

 

“I won’t kill you because my parents are asleep, okay?” he said angrily, clenching his fist in his face. His friend nodded repeatedly.

 

They got to work before they collapsed from exhaustion, cleaning the bathroom with madness and passion until it was spotless. He ran various cleaning products through it before the dried dye came out of the gleaming, spotless sink, and Kirishima washed the towel until it was left with several frayed threads. He let it go, as they looked like zombies, even more tired than when they finished training in the pool today.

 

They went to his room, where his mother had already made up the mattress and sheets, simulating a makeshift bed for his friend. At that moment, he was grateful that his mother was such a perfectionist and demanding person.

 

They changed clothes quickly, and fell straight into bed, rolling around and moaning with satisfaction.

 

“Hey, Bakugo,” Kirishima called, making him roll over, half asleep. “I think you dropped this.”

 

His friend was holding Dabi's lighter in his hands, his expressions revealing hesitation and uncertainty. He snatched it from Dabi's hands and threw it onto his nightstand, assuming he dropped it while he was changing clothes.

 

“Do you use that lighter for… anything?” he questioned, staring at him, fighting sleep.

 

“It’s not mine, shitty hair. I don’t smoke.” He wrapped himself back in the sheets, a little sweaty.

 

“Okay,” he remained silent for a few seconds, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly.

 

“Fuck, if you’re going to say something, say it now, nosy” he buried his head in the pillow.

 

“Yes, yes. Sorry, it’s even weirder to have a lighter that isn’t yours.” He turned around and looked at the ceiling.

 

“I guess he left it here, and I kept it.”

 

“And now you’re carrying it with you?” I raised my eyebrows, hinting at something.

 

“I…” I trail off, no lies on his lips, and sleep making him more talkative.

 

“There’s someone there, huh,” he teased.

 

“You don’t know him, shitty hair,” he turned away, avoiding his nosy friend’s gaze.

 

“Hmm?” he was surprised. He didn’t realize he was talking about a man, and he turned around quickly.

 

“A-any problems?” I questioned, feigning confidence, but the truth is, accidentally coming out…

 

“Huh?! No, of course not!” he shouted, earning a blow to the head, horrified by the mere suggestion of homophobia.

 

“What part of my parents are asleep didn’t you understand?” I whisper, half-shouting.

 

“Yes, I’m sorry. So, is that what helped you?” he asked, as attentive as ever.

 

“Ugh, yeah. But he’s already gone, so don’t bother me anymore!”

 

“And that’s why you’ve been so tense lately!” he excitedly put the pieces together, snapping his fingers as if he’d discovered a new scientific formula that would change history.

 

“Don’t flatter yourself! It wasn’t romantic or anything,” he threw the pillow at him.

 

“So what was it?” I turned my head in incomprehension.

 

“It was purely… physical,” he replied sheepishly, looking away.

 

Kirishima let out a muffled groan. “ That kind of physique?”

 

“Yeah, idiot, which one else?” he got frustrated.

 

“But, but! Bakubro, even if you try to act tough, you're sensitive about those things.” He jumped on him, joking and cornering them, while laughing.

 

“Enough already! You nosy piece of shit!” I whisper between laughs.

 

It was liberating to see how he hadn't judged him for his decisions, but his friend didn't know the full story; and he had to keep it that way, he thought, otherwise he wouldn't like him so much. When they calmed down, they lay back down smiling, and after a few minutes, he heard the redhead begin to snore, and he was able to sleep peacefully. He didn't want any more thoughts of Dabi in his mind, but sadly, the last person he thought about before falling asleep was that craggy man and how he had distorted his life by having only met him twice.

 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

 

The trip had been incredibly long. He'd managed to sleep quite a bit thanks to sitting with the friendly, snobbish geek, but the others were very noisy. Aoyama had started to feel sick, and they'd done everything they could to make him feel better, but nothing had gotten worse. Although it was hilarious to see that damned Todoroki sitting in such a small seat, one he definitely barely fit in.

 

Ever since they got off that bus, this camp had been a complete torture, training their gifts to no end. Their palms and arms ached, and their sweat glands were working overtime, begging for a break. The only free time they had that day was dinner, a meal they'd made themselves; damn weird cats.

 

He enjoyed giving his all, but groveling wasn't much fun. Yesterday they'd fought with Class B, or really, he was the one who'd been left out because of Monoma's antics; the girls were having their ridiculous sleepover, but they were going to have their beef stew no matter what; they fought over it like men. But of course, just when he was about to beat Tetsutetsu in the arm wrestling match they played to decide who would get the meat, the copycat intervened and cheated, sparking a pillow fight in which their gifts ended up being involved. They had a good time.

 

Until Aizawa and Vlad King were hit by a pair of pillows when they decided to check what was causing all the chaos, that is. They ran out of the damn meat, and the training intensified.

 

He was cutting vegetables alongside Uraraka, who was still amazed at his skill with the knife. It wasn't his fault everyone here was useless. The night had already cooled slightly, and then they would play a stupid game of courage. He ate quietly with his classmates, half-listening to their conversations. He sneered when Sero received a slap on the wrist for a rude comment about Yaoyorozu, and he sneered even more loudly when Mineta returned from his punishment for being a fucking degenerate.

You could say he was doing pretty well; even so, he felt a slight unease, a strange feeling surrounding him and his companions. He felt watched, and occasionally heard noises behind him, only to look and realize they were his own thoughts, that faint smell of smoke that surely lingered on his clothes, or something like that.

 

He felt a little crazy when that happened.

 

The tests of courage began, and he was unfairly paired with the half-and-half idiot, and no matter who he threatened to swap partners with, they all refused. They were scared off by Class B, a little idiotic for talking about mundane things with the social misfit Todoroki.

 

he remembered someone saying that to him, but he buried those thoughts deep inside his, where all the shit lodged. They had already passed the test, meeting the cat with the gift of searching, and following the path back when they noticed a burning smell that was impossible to ignore.

 

The camp was burning, and a pinkish gas surrounded them, filling the air. They encountered a classmate from Class B, who seemed to be asleep; they assumed it was a Quirk, perhaps the gas, and avoided breathing as much as possible, with the boy at Todoroki's back. It was when they became more confident that a madman appeared, trying to eat a hand, when the ones ahead of them were Shoji and Tokoyami; he genuinely hoped that hand was a multiplied Shoji's arm.

 

The guy was strong, and they were surrounded by fire and gas. He kept repeating the word "meat" like a mentally retarded person and seemed like he'd just gotten out of the psychiatric hospital, self-discharged or something. The feeling of Pixie Bob telepathically intruding into his mind made him uncomfortable, and even worse was that he was Kacchan, the target of the villains attacking UA.

 

Once again, they somehow knew the place and time they would be there. Something strange was happening, since this was all secret, but he'd have time to think about it after this, when they weren't trying to kidnap him or something. He dodged the villain's teeth as best he could, as he had good control over his Quirk and the space around him, making it very difficult for Todoroki and him, with flammable and dangerous Quirks, surrounded with no escape.

 

A crazed Dark Shadow appeared, saving them from their predicament. When they were able to control it and free the bird, they realized how damaged Deku was, his bones broken, his arms purple, and his head a purplish red, barely staying awake from the adrenaline of the moment. That idiot was careless and didn't have the slightest concern for himself. They did everything they could to protect him, even when he didn't want to. But suddenly he felt strange, everything went blurry, hearing the screams from the place in the distance; he felt trapped and couldn't move.

 

Did that mean the villains had achieved their goal?

 

Notes:

Hey! Sorry for the wait. This chapter was especially difficult to write, as they don't interact and live their lives without each other, making it a bit boring to write, and even read, all for the sake of the plot!
Dabi's POV left me a little unsure, as I don't know how twisted to make it. I just finished writing and editing it, and I broke up with my boyfriend of almost two years today, so writing it will probably be a bit more difficult soon. Still, I'll do my best! This story is very enjoyable to write. Have a great weekend! 𖹭

Chapter 4: everything goes wrong

Summary:

Bakugo is kidnapped, and basically the entire episode revolves around his emotional breakdown. He comes to the conclusion that the best thing to do is talk to Dabi and heads to his apartment.

He came back to reality with the overwhelming smell of smoke up setting him, seeing the horror on the half-and-half's face, the desperation in Deku's eyes; hearing his desperate scream, his attempt to push him away before he did something stupid, while a strong hand, almost strangling him, dragged him towards the portal along with the group of villains.

 

He doesn't remember much else until he woke up again, this time chained and tied until he died, with no room to move, the only thing missing was for him to be gagged. He was in a musty bar, surrounded by lunatics. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking, beginning to take in the details of his surroundings, sensing what might be useful. He noticed the leader of the League of Idiots, sitting on a stool at the bar.

 

The door opened, revealing a masked guy, the one who had locked him in those fucking marbles, and behind him, someone he recognized.

 

No, it couldn't be.

 

He was seeing things wrong, wasn't he? That guy over there, the one who was coming in.

 

He felt like he was going to throw up, his eyes were burning and he didn't blink for a second, staring wide-eyed at the guy in front of him, who glanced at him briefly, making sure to give him a look, with a  little smile discreetly but his gaze remained icy.

 

Where was the blazing fire he knew? This was nothing but cold fury.

 

He began to sweat profusely, his clothes stuck to him and his hands burned, his heart was racing, his breathing rapid and shallow. Panic not only filled his eyes, but was reflected in every inch of them. In them, they could see the disconnection from reality, as if he were seeing things that weren't there.

 

He just…?

 

He didn't even give him a second glance, he just continued on his way. It wasn't Dabi, right? He wanted to scratch his eyes, and when he opened them, the distorted idea in his head would go away.

 

“Hey, kid,” a strange guy, or girl?, snapped her fingers in front of him. “I think you went too far with the chains, Compress!”

 

“Just being careful, don’t take it personally,” the shitty magician clarified.

 

Dabi seemed more than real there, standing in front of him, staring at him with a cold boredom that chilled his blood. He was surrounded by enemies, with no real escape. His mind spun, traveling back in time, hyper-analyzing every action the man had taken, his behavior, his words.

 

All this time, it hadn't been just jokes, just glances, or ideas of his that were easy to ignore, because he was completely oblivious and was crazy to feel that there was something there.

 

He had seen it all and still hadn't realized the seriousness of it.

 

The rage, the anger, the disappointment, everything became so diffuse and clouded his vision and judgment. He felt himself getting lost, hearing the voices in the background, but he could only see Dabi, without even looking at him. Seeing in him a gigantic mistake.

 

Dabi had lost his form, now it was a mistake that would haunt him his entire life, ruining everything: his career, his family, his friends, everything…

 

His dream.

 

He must have told the league about it.would take advantage of all that to do as much damage as possible. If it were just him,would hold, would pay for his mistakes with the damage that was done to himwill causeIt was all his fault. His irresponsibility and immaturity.

 

He always knew it was wrong.

 

He didn't want to lose everything. He wanted to remain a hero, grow with his classmates, and follow All Might. He couldn't kill them all if he wanted to be a hero.

 

What was he thinking? Was he even the same? What was happening?

 

He felt dizzy, lost, shaking with anger.

 

"Kid" felt like he was slapped "There, yes. He's already reacted, Shigaraki" he realized he had been in a trance, staring at as if deranged.

 

“It must be a complex situation, Katsuki Bakugo” spoke kurogiri, suddenly reminding him of the attack on the USJ. “How do you feel? We want…”

 

“I should have killed you that day,” he said, bathed in resentful fury, slowly turning to look at him with wide eyes.

 

“Okay, the kid is going into a crazy fit or something,” he pointed at him compress instantly.

 

“Let’s give it time.” solved Shigaraki, seemingly calm and understanding, “Everyone, outside. We’ll make rounds to take care of him.”

 

He was lost in time, watching the others move in slow motion, his head blank and a knot in his chest he wanted to tear out. The room was empty, in front of him Shigaraki, his body, thin and slightly hunched, stood in an awkward position, as if he didn't quite know where to place his hands. A small twitch in his left eye blinked, his clothes were wrinkled incessantly, as if he hadn't considered how they looked. There was something unsettling about his presence, as if he weren't completely in his place. He began to speak things he could only understand as the nonsense of a useless, immature child. His dry lips moved disgustingly, his skin reddened and torn to shreds by his filthy nails.

 

He was also an immature and useless child, how different did that make him?

 

He listened to the madness of each member of the league, without really listening to them, striking them down with staring and responding with resentment and disgust, insulting them. He wanted to break free and blow everything up; he'd lost track of time, not knowing if minutes, hours, days, even, had passed. He just sat and spat at the feet of each of his captors, threatening to kill them once he got free. He was just numb from the big, sour, nasty revelation that he'd been missing a villain, had fucked a villain, had gotten him into his house, and…

 

Everything was too bad now to be completely lucid. With his hero career ruined, he had nothing left, so…

 

Dabi hadn't appeared yet. Was this a game by the league to take advantage of bakugo vulnerability in this situation?

 

Since they knew, but no one had said anything.

 

Guilt had never eaten away at him like this, piercing his heart like a stake, leaving him empty, alone with his thoughts that were becoming darker and darker. His breathing was still labored, he was still alert and slightly terrified, with parts of his shirt stuck to his skin, itching like crazy. He felt like every nerve in his body was

His body was aware, with his arms bristling and his eyes full of tears held back, from time to time biting his lip to suppress the crying that threatened to come out.

 

 He had done something horrible.

 

Stupid, stupid, immature, and disgusting. What kind of hero was he? Why did he have to make such terrible decisions and let his emotions get the best of him?

 

And to think that the biggest of his worries was that the guy was a follower of stain. My God, what an idiot. It had always been there, he'd always known it. That fire, his empty, sadistic stares, his mocking smiles, his bad habits, and his own attitude.

 

He knew that was not normal.

 

He simply decided to stay the same, to be an outsider.

 

“Okay, you're not being funny, Bakugo” The bloody madwoman shouted, standing up from her chair. “You’re not really my type. Do you know anything about Izuku? About Ochako?”

 

He felt cornered, facing the face of that twisted teenager, who was also playing with a knife, dangerously grazing his wrist, making shallow cuts. He understood the implicit threat. "You can go to hell, you crazy bitch," he spat contemptuously.

 

Just because he understood the threat doesn't mean he was scared enough to betray his classmstes, you know?

 

“Mhm, aren’t you going to tell me? I’m being nice!” his face darkened, moving closer the knife, increasing the depth of the cuts, watching in fascination as the blood flowed more quickly. “I’ll have to treat you badly.”

 

“Oh, really?” he laughed mockingly. “Don’t worry, when I’m free, the only blood you’ll see will be yours.”

 

“You’re too twisted to be a hero, but I don’t like you. That mouth of yours ruins everything,” he stopped the knife. “We’re not freeing you! Shigaraki said you weren’t going to leave”

 

The genuine excitement on her face was the part that bothered him the most. Her skirt flew around, and he realized she was dressed as a schoolgirl. What the hell?

 

"What mental illness do you have? I'll defeat you all, you bloody psycho," he retorted, shifting angrily in his seat. In a flash, the knife had cut his lip, and it was beginning to bleed.

 

He felt no pain, he was on another plane. His mind wouldn't slow down, the thoughts faded away, her numb feet and the cold she felt even though it was warm.

 

what the hell had I been thinking?

 

“Do I have to cut out your tongue? That would be fun,” she let out a high-pitched laugh that bothered his ears.

 

He spits blood directly into her face, erasing the smile in an instant. “Fuck. Off.”

 

Before they could see her reaction, they felt the door open and quickly turned their heads.

 

There stood the infamous dark-haired man, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, a smile that didn't quite reach his lips, but his amusement at the scene he'd just witnessed was palpable. "Your turn's over."

 

“Uh? But there’s still… half an hour left,” he read on the bar’s broken clock.

 

“Go away,” he said, dragging his chair noisily until he sat a few feet in front of him, who was mute and slightly terrified.

 

“We were having fun!” she tried to convince him.

 

“Shigaraki said no damage,” he pointed at his wounds with boredom, shrugging as if he didn’t care. He just didn’t care, he noted.

 

“You are boring, dabi" he replied reluctantly, dragging his feet out of the room.

 

All the resurrection from within him, coming in intense waves that made him shake with anger. Everything he'd done, what Bakugo had come to think of him…

 

He heard Toga close the door behind her, and looked alike in the eyes, glaring, but he didn't seem to care. Minutes passed, or so he felt; he wasn't entirely sure yet.

 

“I don’t owe you anything for fucking you like three times, you know?” he pointed out. “You’re making this terribly awkward.”

 

“You shameless piece of shit! You’re disgusting, I hate you!” he yelled angrily, straining at the chains and belts that bound him to the chair. “I can’t believe it, how dare you?! You son of a bitch!”

 

Dabi stared at him sourly, silently. His eyes shone with a disturbing fascination, as if he were reveling in his own mental storm. Each blink seemed slower, more calculated, but there was a madness behind them that couldn't be ignored, no longer. It was as if his eyes could read every corner of his being…

 

“What the hell is going through your head?! Do you know all the damage you caused? My classmates…” his voice trailed off, burning with pain, imagining his classmates in despair, a pain caused by someone he had slept with.

 

“You decided to do all that that day,” he replied simply, going straight to the root of the matter.

 

“I didn’t know who you were! What you looked like! If I had known, you wouldn’t have touched a hair on my head!” he shouted again fiercely.

 

“You knew what it was like, you saw it. You liked it,” he continued, shattering any attempt at control on his part."But anyway. I didn't know who you were either. If I'm a liar, so are you."

 

“It’s completely different, don’t you dare! I didn’t kidnap you!” He tried to get out of his restraints again. He stood still when he saw Dabi take out the lighter that was left at home, he felt sick.

 

“Yes, you had it in your pocket. Did you miss me that much?” He lit a cigarette.

 

“I’m not going to fall into your fucking traps, you shitty villain,” he replied, aware of how Dabi had avoided what he had previously said, pulling out his master card.

 

“You’re not being smart,” he replied after a few seconds of silence. “You’re also oppressed by this shitty society, aren’t you? You know it deep down. That’s why we met that night.”

 

He bit his already injured lip, causing it to bleed again and filling his mouth with that metallic taste typical of blood. "You can go fuck yourself."

 

“No matter how much you try to push it away, it will always be there” he exhaled the smoke “you should turn that anger and pride into something useful, hot-bloodedness will be of no use to you, thinking with a cool head will”

 

“Ha? What's wrong with you?” he mocked. “You're on the verge of a funeral, idiot. Your advice is crap.”

 

“That’s why,” he smiled lazily, “the only thing that keeps me alive is fury.”

 

This day was quite different from what he had known.

 

He knew him as sarcastic and mocking, idiotic and disturbing, yes, but also slightly humorous. He saw him feeling something. Dabi, the villain, was completely indifferent, a first-class son of bitch, cold, who treasured an icy fury that kept him alive.

 

“Those wounds look ugly,” he continued observing him. 

 

“Congratulate your little friend, asshole. The heroes will come and you'll go to Tartarus for decades,” he snorted, hoping with all his might that this was what would happen. He could free himself, but not send the entire league to Tartarus.

 

"Or you join us," he proposed as if he weren't proposing something stupid, "but I know you won't, you're stuck to your unrealistic ideals to the death."

 

“Unrealistic my ass, do you think you're being realistic when you think that what you're doing won't have consequences?”

 

“Mhm, no. But the most important part has already been accomplished.” The most important part? Having him here?

 

Several minutes passed in silence, the blond lost in himself, in remorse and guilt. His bloodshot red eyes, crystallized and shining.

 

“If you keep biting your lip, it will bleed more.” He stood up from his chair, throwing away the smelly cigarette.

 

“Do you mind?” he replied, biting himself harder in resentment.

 

“No, but I don’t want Shigaraki scolding you know? It’s pretty gross,” he lingered around the bar.

 

“That they’re fucking crazy is no one’s responsibility but yours, you moron,” he earned a look of disgust.

 

“You never wondered where villains come from, huh?” he let out a laugh. “If you keep this up, you’ll prove to me that you’re even dumber than you already look.”

 

“Me?! Stupid?” he yelled.

 

“Yeah, you. Your decisions are terrible, you know? You should learn to control your anger.” He grabbed a nearly empty first-aid kit, along with a couple of gauze pads.

 

"No, you don't..." he swore. He couldn't possibly have said that too. That was why no one should know who he was. Possibly the only person who had ever enjoyed his personality was throwing it in his face.

 

“Oh,” the black-haired man realized. “If you turned that anger into a more conscious rage and put aside all your other feelings, it would be perfect, but I see that your beloved heroes don’t even make you feel good about yourself.”

 

"You don't know what you're talking about," he watched as he approached. "I don't want to be like you."

 

Dabi smiled, letting out a dry laugh. “No, of course not. You never could.”

 

“How many times do I have to tell them to fuck off? I’m not going to join your league of idiots,” he spits out contemptuously. Dabi keeps getting closer, tying the bandages while Bakugo struggles, trying to get away. “Don’t touch me!”

 

“Stay still,” he held him tightly.

 

“Don’t order me around! Don’t give me monologues I didn’t ask for! I don’t want your help, I don’t need it,” he shouted, enraged and with his pride wounded.

 

“You’re mad because it was something you decided. It was your decisions that led you to meet me.” He ran a hand through his hair distractedly, as if bored, but his gaze remained fixed, implacable. “You liked it. You knew all along there was something about me you ignored… that’s why you’re like this.”

 

His lips twisted and tears flowed in resentful silence. “Can you blame me? Huh? You kidnapped me.”

 

“Yes, because what we did meant nothing,” he replied with a bittersweet expression. “It’s like me asking you not to attack me, even though I’m a villain and you’re a hero. You’d do it anyway, wouldn’t you? nothing is worth your heroism, not even you. Nothing is worth my revenge, not even me.”

 

“Are you walking down the street thinking you might get kidnapped?” his voice cracked.

 

“Blame your naiveté, not me. You know they were shitty decisions.”

 

he didn't even respond, just sobbed silently, breaking down. Dabi hit the sweet spot, touched that nerve, that newly formed pain that was clawing at his heart, tearing it to pieces.

 

An open wound, that's what it was. And it was as if they acknowledged it, that it had been partly his fault, and now he had to carry it forever. It was as if his entire body had been holding a tidal surge of emotions, each one greater than the last, and suddenly, that tide spilled over completely. Tears began to flow without him being able to stop them, and his breathing became erratic, as if each breath were a desperate attempt to regain control. The overflow wasn't just emotional, his hands trembled, his shoulders hunched as if the weight of what he felt was too great to bear. He couldn't contain it any longer; everything was suddenly crumbling. Everything he had tried to suppress and fix crumbled, leaving him alone with his sobs.

 

He looked down, watching his pants dampen, his tears mix with his blood, a salty, metallic taste in his mouth. Dabi must have noticed, because he pulled his hand away from the newly applied gauze as if it were burning.

 

"And it hurts you that I tell you because you didn't want to accept it, but now everything has fallen apart, I can see it" he walked around him again with a grimace of -this situation definitely sucks- “I guess I still owe you a talk, we’ll talk more later.”

 

“How can you be so calm?” I whisper in a hoarse voice, lost. “Is there a way to be sure there’s a later?”

 

“I have no regrets.” He shrugged. “You’ll see if there is a later.”

 

“You’re letting guilt get the better of you, Patches,” he spat out spitefully, but the black-haired man laughed.

 

“You’re still fun. Now, let me give you a little recommendation, don’t mess with Shigaraki.” He placed his hand on Bakugo’s face, his thumb on his lip, pressing the wound. “I’m going to cauterize it.”

 

“What?” he replied, bewildered, confused by the fact that Dabi had just given him advice and that he also wanted to cauterize the wound. His finger slowly ran over his lip and jaw, resembling the Dabi he once knew. The man, not the villain. He didn’t move away; you could even consider him approaching the contact as if it were a consolation.

 

“It’s still bleeding, Shigaraki said no damage and it’s too heavy” he repeated, waiting for an affirmation from Bakugo when they heard the approaching footsteps.

 

“Fuck, okay,” he wriggled, bracing himself for the pain. Soon, Dabi’s temperature rose, burning his skin and causing him to jerk away. It hurt terribly, but the pain also focused him on the present.

 

He only let them help him out of necessity, out of intelligence, he thought for some reason, evoking the image of Dabi.

 

The blond continued in silence, processing how someone could be so careless.

 

“Life isn’t black and white,” he continued. “You liked that nuance in me; that’s what made it even better. I understand. Knowing who you were helped me understand the reasons for your reckless decisions.”

 

“You couldn’t have understood anything if you did this,” he replied, writhing from the itching on his arms, his lip burning like hell.

 

“Believe me, I tried to reason with them,” he continued, pacing. “But hey, wait for your heroes to come, right? If they ever come.”

 

And with the bomb already released, he quickly walked away and soon the entire league of villains flooded the room.

 

Tied down, vulnerable, he was forced to listen to the insane nonsense spewed by his members, as if their individual monologues weren't enough. He completely avoided Dabi's gaze, unable to bear to look into those eyes he'd once gazed at with something akin to delusion, perhaps. His chest ached, his body felt cold and tense.

 

He wanted to leave no matter what, but how?

 

He analyzed the position of each member, where he himself was sitting, the door, the building's strong points that he shouldn't hit to avoid causing a collapse, the strength of each enemy, all the probabilities and their possibilities; he didn't have many, honestly. He had to be patient, and when he found the first crack he should get rid of the marbles guy, Kurogiri didn't help the situation, but everyone looked so relaxed, that it would take a few seconds to respond; it could even be that Dabi would take a little longer, but maybe expecting that wasn't realistic, he hadn't been compassionate with his companions, and he didn't even seem to care that the one sitting there was him.  

Wait, if they want him to join, don't ask to hurt him. Ha! He'd found the weak point of every intervention; the League of Idiots had chosen the worst person to try to convince, with everything they'd done, and they came to mess with him! Nothing could make him transform, not fifty monologues, not the burnt face, so much that he cared so little, the blond should care even less.

 

He was more animated, and although he remained tied down, something was beginning to take shape in his head. Nothing and no one was going to take away his passion, his dream.

 

He wouldn't allow it. He was Katsuki Bakugo, and he never gave up. He would win the way he wanted, and everyone who decided to oppose him could go fuck themselves. He could later fix the huge problem he'd caused with Dabi, and the League knew about it. He had to fix this first.

 

Shigaraki turned on the television, watching the broadcast of the UA announcement; why did everyone blame them and not the villains? Damn, public relations and journalists were shit. He refused to watch them reprimand and treat his teachers and principal so cruelly. Aizawa had probably done everything he could, just like the day at the USJ. Remembering what those same idiots did to him only made him want to exploit them all.

 

“Are they supposed to be perfect? ​​Today's heroes are too upright,” he focused on Shigaraki, who was talking again with those strange postures and that hand on his face, brutally uncomfortable, feeling like he wanted to blow it up. “Don't you think so, Bakugo?”

 

"When they're compensated for protecting people, heroes cease to be heroes," the green lizard spoke, his voice as sharp as his knives. He should have guessed earlier that he was a follower of Stain, given his attire. "It's what Stain taught."

 

“The strange system of transforming people’s lives into money or glory, the society that adheres to those rules, the citizens who blame the losers instead of encouraging them…” his voice came out raspy, as if you had been talking nonstop for days, but everything in Shigaraki seemed dry. “We fight to ask, what is a hero? What is justice? Is this society really fair?”

 

The blond man remained silent, but it wasn't a peaceful silence. Rather, it stretched like a taut thread about to snap, where the slightest movement seemed a challenge. He watched him resentfully, without needing to say a word to show what was going through his mind.

 

“We’ll make everyone think about it,” he observed it through his fingers, his eyes shining with a frantic intensity. “We think we’ll win. You like winning too, don’t you?”

 

They definitely hadn't understood anything.

 

“Dabi, untie him,” he ordered, pointing at him. This was possibly the best opportunity he’d had so far, and he thanked whoever the fuck he had to thank for making Shigaraki such an idiot villain!

 

“Huh? He’s going to fight.” He turned his body to look at his boss with an almost unbearable slowness, as he usually did.

 

“Okay! We’ll treat him as an equal since we recruited him.” He spread his arms as if he were saying something coherent. If it weren’t for a complex moment, he would laugh at Dabi’s exasperated expression. “Besides, in this situation you know if you can win or not, right, student?”

 

Yes, yes, threatening like a barking dog, and when he tries to bite, he misses the mark. He might not have a chance of winning, but he does have a chance of not causing any more trouble.

 

“Twice, you do it,” he looked at his partner with a slack expression. Ha, he didn’t want to face him? What a coward.

 

“Me? No way!” he refused, cautiously in his eyes. Katsuki was a ticking time bomb right now.

 

“Do it,” he ordered without a shred of compassion, with that facade of a useless lazy person.

 

“Ugh, man…” he approached slowly, prolonging the inevitable moment as much as possible.

 

"I apologize for using such harsh methods," Compress said this time, his mask still on his face. He still hadn't fully grasped how exactly it ended up like this. "But understand that we're not a mob intent on committing crimes. We didn't kidnap you by accident.”

 

He waited patiently for the villain to find the right key to release all the ties. “We have different situations, but we were all restricted, and we suffered for the people, the rules, and the heroes.”

 

Was this guy just not going to shut up anymore? It felt liberating to have nothing holding him back, sitting like an idiot who didn't intend to do anything. He enjoyed watching Shigaraki lean in closer as he spoke, thinking about how he'd blow that fucking hand away. "I'm sure you do too..."

 

He massaged his wrists resentfully, waiting for the villain to get close enough, and when he was, bam! Without warning, he lunged forward and slammed the guy with multiple personalities with all his might, knocking him out of the way so he could get to the leader. In a few seconds, with an explosion, he was finally able to blow the face off that disturbing imbecile, and the little hand fell to the ground with a thud.

 

“I heard you talking nonstop. Idiots can’t make themselves understood and they talk for too long,” he said angrily, but happy to finally be able to fight. “Basically, you want to annoy  and get me to join them, right? Forget it.”

 

A memory revived in his mind, that memory so vivid in his memory, now more intense than ever. The day he saw All Might win in the worst of circumstances, his source of inspiration, the thing that would make him dedicate his life to being a hero, the day he decided he wanted to be like him. Everything had been so simple back then, and now only the luminous memory remained, charged with emotion.

 

All Might is great, right? No matter the problems, it always wins in the end.

 

He smiled fiercely, his arms tense, ready to fight. “I want to win like all might.” A small drop of sweat ran down his forehead, feeling grateful for the new warmth that ran through him, making his sweat glands work. “No matter what anyone says, that will never change!”

 

"Father," Shigaraki whispered, but before he could continue listening to what he had to say, a reporter's question began to play in the background, with the confident response of his teacher and the principal. Of course, sensei! He would be the greatest hero of all, and no one could stop him.

 

“That’s it, sensei and UA,” he smiled, preparing his stance again, ready to fight as many as he could before leaving, “there you have it, stupid league!”

 

After so much trouble in the attack, and they only took me, he began to think, realizing that I had also told him his objective. This was the best position he could find, being someone they think they can use, since if they want to get him on their side they won't kill him. He stared at Dabi while smiling, he would kick his ass and erase that look of discouragement and boredom he had now. Before they change their minds, he would finish off two or three and leave. Problem solved.

 

“Just so you know, I’m still allowed to fight!” he shouted, mocking the idiot villains who decided to make the worst possible decision other than kidnapping him.

 

“He knows what position he is in, he is very clever” was apparently prepared by the man or woman called Magne.

 

“No, he’s an idiot,” Dabi replied, in a tone of I told you , while his posture was lazy, his gaze was sharp and pierced his chest like daggers.

 

“I’ll hit you,” the bloody bitch rocked on her stool, clapping her disgusting murderous hands.

 

"Even if he didn't join us, he must have pretended we were convincing him," Compress explained, as if that were a feasible idea for the blond. "It was a mistake."

 

They definitely didn't understand anything!

 

“I won’t do anything I don’t want to do, even if it’s a lie,” he stated the obvious, starting to get impatient, “and I don’t want to be in such an annoying place for too long.”

 

The moment Shigaraki gently moved his hand, whispering “Father” again, the tension in the room exploded, turning the atmosphere into something dense and instantly making his hair stand on end, his sense of survival surpassing a thousand. His body froze as Kurogiri tried to calm the leader, and everything happened in fast motion, his senses heightened, and every limb felt a chill, making him shiver slightly when Shigaraki moved a little more.

 

“Don’t let anyone touch it.” He raised his arm as a barrier, picking up the hand and placing it on his face again. “This tip is a valuable piece. I wish you had listened more. I thought we would understand each other.”

 

Okay, this guy was at least creepy. He remembered Best Jeanist's lesson as a slightly hazy, but still useful, memory.

 

Villains and heroes are two sides of the same coin.

 

Is that what Dabi was always referring to when they talked about this topic?

 

“Understand? No way!” he replied, still stubborn in his decision, his brow furrowed, a bit of terror still running through his spine, enough to make him move much further from where he already was.

 

“What can I do?” he complained. “The heroes said they will continue investigating us. There’s no time to talk calmly.”

 

So they thought they could easily convert him, huh? Even though the police and heroes weren't present, the pressure they were exerting from outside seemed to be starting to affect the atmosphere inside. He'd be happy if it weren't for the fact that they'd probably want to arrest him again.

 

“Sensei, give me your power,” he turned to a small screen that looked out over the entire room.

 

Wait, what? “Sensei? Aren't you the boss here? How boring,” he laughed, trying to find at least a way out.

 

“Kurogiri, compress, put him back to sleep” shit, shit, no.

 

"Ugh, I can't believe he didn't hear," he began lazily approaching. He had to act quickly; he didn't want to miss the only chance he'd probably get. "It's actually impressive."

 

"If you want me to listen, kneel down and die!" He repeated to himself, trying to control his urge to explode, since Kurogiri was in the way. Think, he urged himself repeatedly.

 

I must take a chance and go behind…

 

There were three knocks on the door, causing everyone, including him, to lower their guard. “Hi, I’m from Pizza-La, in Kamino.”

 

A deafening silence filled the room. Had anyone even ordered pizza?

 

Before he could even do anything, he saw the wall behind the disturbing lizard quickly crumble with a Smash!, leaving him completely bewildered. In just a few seconds, thanks to All Might and Kamui Woods, the league of villains was completely dismantled, with no way out.

 

He couldn't help but see a few bursts of laughter escape his mouth as he watched a dwarf elder knock out Dabi with a lightning-fast kick, earning several glances. His white eyes and open mouth were definitely hilarious.

 

It was too late when the villains realized the trap of the conference, and Shigaraki apparently, outside there was not only a full team of police prepared, but there was Endeavor and other competent heroes just in case.

 

They had captured the league of villains and saved the blond in a single instant.

 

"I'm sure you were scared. You held up well," his favorite hero spoke to him, but his words, instead of bringing relief, disconcerted him and made him frown. He'd had to save him, again. "I'm sorry, it's okay now, young man."

 

“I wasn’t afraid, not one bit!” he shouted shamelessly, choosing to ignore the aura of danger the leader had emanated from a moment earlier. His pride clearly came before any other stupidity, and fear wasn’t something he usually felt.

 

Shigaraki continued to rave, while All Might put his heavy arm around his shoulders. He started to freak out when Edgeshot finally took charge of getting the portal guy out of the way, and after the old man said the names of each member of the league, he realized they hadn't mentioned Dabi's name. He was so hidden that not even the police had discovered him? That guy was still an enigma even though he was knocked out.

 

Nomus began to appear out of nowhere, and soon he found himself engulfed by a foul, foul-smelling liquid that dragged him down his throat, just like that time, the day of the mud villain. He was released in a completely destroyed area next to the league, and in front of him stood a faceless man who was undoubtedly the head of this entire criminal network. His suit, his voice, his position—everything about him screamed danger, and he wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. He coughed, trying to get the disgusting feeling out of his mouth, that repugnant taste that brought back unwanted memories at a crucial moment like this.

 

All Might appeared shortly after, and everything went too fast for his liking. The league was just as desperate as he was, trying not to interfere with the main fight; he was getting in All Might's way, and it was a 6v1 that was getting more complicated because this time they wouldn't be lenient. He was sweaty and flooded with adrenaline, feeling worse and worse for causing so much trouble. fuck, fuck.

 

Those sinister figures rushed at him in turns, leaving him little room to counterattack, barely letting him defend himself. In the moonlight, the environment was only illuminated by broken, flickering streetlights, which slightly distorted what he saw in that unstable and dangerous terrain. He launched himself at them with roars, claws, and teeth, doing everything possible to leave as quickly as possible, for the hero couldn't give his all while he was in this situation. Panting and dusty, he examined every possibility.

 

Until out of nowhere, behind him appeared an ice that was too Todoroki to have been anything but him. He saw how in the distance, green rays and a running engine jumped from the ice cliff, realizing that held by them was a teenager with horrible red hair.

 

Kirishima? Deku? Four eyes? Todoroki?

 

The students could fight here too, what was going on?

 

"Come," the redhead shouted from that great height. He didn't hesitate for a moment; he wouldn't have a better opportunity, taking advantage of the process to fly to Shigaraki one last time. He flew explosively until he reached his friends with a smile. What idiots.

 

They landed on a roof, rolling, but far from the area. They explained how this incursion had been practically illegal, and how Todoroki and Momo, who had also come, had also escaped unharmed. In front of the screens, they saw how All Might, the hero who always won, was losing the fight with that All for One. He had lost his form, and instead of the muscular, smiling hero, there was a skinny man with a sunken face, dark circles covering his eyes and blood spreading across his body, only one arm was still muscular. This couldn't be happening! Their idol couldn't lose!

 

As if he had heard all the voices that acclaimed his name and called for his victory, All Might won the fight, and all the fuss ended at dawn.

 

“Now it’s your turn”

 

Why was Deku crying so inconsolably, while the crowd screamed with happiness?

 

A puzzle began to form in his mind, losing himself in the past again; silently, he followed his companions until he met up with his other two, relieved to see him safe and sound. They were talking animatedly about the fight, but Deku seemed to have lost something…

 

“Now it’s your turn.” What did that mean? A retreat? Motivation?

 

All Might couldn't be retreating. He'd won, but he'd lost his strength, hadn't he? The now-called Kamino incident had been entirely his fault. People were dead, people were injured, a city completely destroyed, and everything, because of a teenager who wasn't even that important. He wasn't the best, nor the strongest, but quite the opposite, as that journalist put it. An aggressive, out-of-control teenager who behaved like an idiot, always screwing up, always ruining everything.

There was silence in his mind, but not the kind that calms. It was a dense silence, filled with reproaches that needed no words. He looked at his hands, trembling, empty.

He had messed up. Again.

He couldn't blame anyone. Not this time. Not fate, not luck, not circumstances. Only himself. He'd had clear opportunities, served up like a silver platter, and he'd let them pass him by. Or worse, he'd crushed them with his own decisions.

If he hadn't chosen Dabi that night, if he hadn't expected anything from him.

If he weren't so aggressive, if he weren't so stubborn, they wouldn't have kidnapped him.

If he hadn't been kidnapped, all might not have had to fight and end up like this. 

If he was better…

He felt a weight on his chest, as if his soul had shrunk in shame. The voice in his head wasn't screaming. It whispered. And that whisper was worse than any scream. "What did you expect? You always do the same thing."

 

Soon they arrived at the police station. He said goodbye to his classmates. Empty and tired, he entered the room. He answered the police officers' questions. He nodded to his teacher when he asked if everything was okay. He let the witch scream at him with tears in her eyes, while his father also cried like he was dying. Right now, he felt like he was dying. Wasn't this too much? Hadn't he tried hard enough?

 

But it was never enough. All the way, he listened to his mother complain about his recklessness, about everything he'd done wrong, but he felt out of his mind, lost in his own head as his eyes watched the buildings move, his head resting against the window.

How tired he was, he thought, he hadn't even been able to wash off the dirt from the training they did at camp before everything went to hell.

 

It would make sense if All might had chosen Deku over him.

 

Deku is and always was what he never could be. He never had a quirk, and yet he was so much better than him. In his life, where everyone saw his value because of the great quirk he had, he was able to find the one thing he was better at than Deku to take refuge from his inferiority complex. Deku was a good person, heroic, and very well-liked. He was loved by the heroes and the public in general, and even more specifically, he was accepted by the hero of his life, becoming his favorite in an almost suspicious amount of time.

 

He was superfluous, left out of the equation. He wasn't recognized by All Might, he was never seen by them. Not by many, actually; everyone saw his quirk, his strength instead of him, Katsuki. Less someone, less him. 

 

He didn't even know his strength, his quirk, the weight of his name, and what a liberator it had been. He didn't want him for that, he didn't seek him out for that, he never asked him to change, he didn't even put up with his temper, he enjoyed it, he enjoyed Katsuki, of the vulnerable. But he couldn't enjoy that either, because Dabi was a villain who kidnapped him.

 

Dabi hadn't cared much either. And even though it wasn't a romantic relationship, Dabi had been good to him, had shown kindness. He had been good amidst all his boredom and sarcasm, amidst that twisted nature of his core. Could Dabi be good, even though he's a villain?

 

It must have been that nuance he'd spoken of. Dabi wasn't good, but within all that, he'd known a halfway good part of him that still lingered within him, and he'd liked that. He knew Dabi wasn't normal, but within all the weirdness surrounding him, it hadn't been like that with him. On the contrary, he'd given him what he needed.

 

He was being too lenient with the villain. That same Dabi had burned down his camp.

 

When he got home, he didn't even eat dinner; he simply ignored his parents and lay down on the bed, without changing his clothes or bathing. He simply took off his shoes and slept.

 

He woke up in the middle of the night, barely able to move from exhaustion. His dark room felt empty, his body dripping with sweat, giving him a feeling of self-loathing. He turned on his phone, the screen being the only object radiating light, his reddened eyes screaming. He read the messages of joy and concern from his classmates, smiling slightly at them as if he deserved their concern. He also read the scoldings of his classmates who came to rescue him. While the word "rescue" sounded bitter to him, there was no other way to describe it. Apparently, the only one who didn't hesitate for a moment was Todoroki, who argued and convinced the others, aware of his selfish actions.

 

He wasn't that close to Todoroki, though he respected him. He'd suffered greatly at the hands of his idiot father, who, to his taste, always seemed rude and unpleasant, and yet he was still considered a hero. He remembered his resentful look at the beginning of the year, how he'd started getting closer to his classmates after the sports festival, their small talk, and how he always seemed to be near him even if he didn't want to be. He was socially awkward, cold, and direct, but he'd decided to be strong.

 

He'd been through so much, and now he was a cool hero, making even himself respect him. Did he have the same chance of being a cool hero now that all this was over, too?

 

Tears streamed down his face, aware that these past few days had been difficult. Everything hurt, everything he tried to suppress… It wasn't a gentle cry. It was clumsy, wild, like a scream that had rotted inside before it could come out.

 

He didn't deserve to be rescued, he didn't deserve the respect of his classmates, the affection he received from them. Everyone was worried, and he chatted with the villain he'd screwed about the choices he'd made; he'd robbed society of its number one hero.

 

They were all so nice, and he was left behind as always. He reread the messages once more as a superficial consolation and responded with less scathing abandon than usual.

 

He went to bathe in the darkness, seeing his gaunt face in the mirror's reflection, his tangled hair, the cauterized wound on his lip, and he pressed it gently, remembering how it had happened. He couldn't see much more of himself because of the resentment he felt toward himself right now.

The water fell, but it didn't clean anything.

He sat on the shower floor, knees drawn up to his chest, letting the hot water hit his back like a gentle but constant punishment. The tiles beneath his skin were cold, yet he didn't move. He felt like every drop was judging him, as if even the water knew what he'd become.

He wasn't crying. Now all that remained was emptiness. That inner silence that enveloped everything like a heavy fog. The fogged-up mirror saved him from his own reflection, but not from his thoughts. He ran his hands over his face hard, as if he could tear something away: the guilt, the shame, the image of himself he could no longer bear to look at. He wanted to wash his soul clean, and since he couldn't, the sponge scraped hard against his body, as if it could do more than redden his skin and irritate it with pain. He wanted that nonexistent filth to go down the drain along with his thoughts, but when he realized it wouldn't, he simply stepped out of the shower, still in his pajamas.

He fell onto his bed abruptly and carelessly, when he abruptly remembered the great detail he had overlooked.

The league knew it.

They knew about him and Dabi.

No one said it directly, but there was no time for the league not to know, for Dabi not to say it.

What if it had been a plan from the beginning? What if Dabi knew who he was and that's why he approached him? What if he had fallen into a trap from the start? What if...?

He began to feel a strange sensation in his chest. A knot, an uncomfortable tingling. His heart began to beat so fast it felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. It wasn't exactly fear, It was something else. As if his body had entered a state of alarm, but without a clear enemy. Just him. Just his mind.

Breathing became difficult. As if the air had become thick, thin. He opened his mouth, gulped for air, but it wasn't enough. "I can't breathe."

His hands began to shake, his legs buckled,his vision blurred at the edges, and the whole world, the sounds of the street, the light from his phone, blurred. Too much noise. Too much pressure. Too much everything.

A cold sweat ran down his back. And in the center of his chest, that sharp pain, that unbearable oppression that felt very much like dying.

I'm going to die.

He curled up against the pillows on his bed as if that might save him. He waited for someone to come and save him, but no one came, and his room was filled with a pair of ragged breaths that grew fainter and fainter.

He tuned out the world, trying to calm himself, but he couldn't hear, or reason, or even think clearly. Everything inside him was one muffled scream.

And then, as it came, it began to go.

Not fast.

Not easy.

As if the storm had slowly released him. And there he lay, trembling, exhausted, his throat dry and his heart still trembling beneath his skin.

Alive, but he felt like he was barely alive.

He woke up again, his body numb and feeling like he'd slept badly or not at all. His neck and back ached, and his pillow was hot and damp on one side, as if he'd been adjusting himself too many times during the night. A cold sweat plastered his clothes to his body, with the summer heat beating down on him. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the mid-morning light. It was a sunny day with few clouds. His tongue felt dry, his jaw clenched, his chest heaving for no reason. All of this was definitely driving him crazy.

He quickly remembered the events of the previous night, terrified of what had happened to him. He had really been on the verge of death,or had it been the same? All he saw were faded, blurry, and indistinct visions, but he did perfectly remember what he felt at that moment; after all, it was that which was causing the persistent pain in his chest. Lazily, with no desire to move, he quickly got rid of his pillows and got out of bed, heading down the stairs to meet his parents.

They were watching television in silence, and he saw that it was 12 noon. He had slept too much, and he was still as tired as if he'd been run over.

On television, they were clearly talking about the Kamino incident; the police were holding a press conference summarizing everything that had happened, the material damage, the injured, the death, and the economic loss. Kamino was quite crowded at night, and it was partially destroyed. He felt the guilt on his shoulders, like every bit of damage was upon him, suffocating him andsinking it intodeepest part of his being. He sat down wordlessly next to his father, who put his arm around his shoulder, didn't move, and let himself be petted a little.

They named, and with them, the photos of each adult member of the League of Villains. All of this on national television; the photos alike were blurry, because in reality during the incident he was lying unconscious in the middle of the whole mess, although there were very detailed photos of All for One, Shigaraki and several other members who were already known for other previous crimes.

When they started talking about the newly released announcement from All Might's agency about his retirement, he decided he'd heard enough.

“Katsuki!” his mother shouted. “You’re going to eat something, now!”

“I’m not hungry, witch,” his voice came out almost whispering and hoarse, he swayed between his feet and he really wasn’t hungry.

“But Kats, when was the last time you ate?” his father asked.

“Those fucking villains probably didn’t feed you, and you went to sleep last night without dinner!” scolded his mother, who, while still screaming, looked just as worried as his father, whose fist was clenched in helplessness.

“Okay, okay!” he snorted in annoyance, not wanting to worry them further, since he had never seen them like that.

Obligated, he ate lunch with his parents; it was an awkward silence, his father's finger tapping on the wineglass he shared with his mother, and he avoided their eyes as much as possible. The cutlery clicked too loudly. Each fork against the plate seemed like a dull thud in the dense silence that filled the table, and although everyone was physically there, seated at the table, in reality it seemed that each one was trapped in their own bubble of discomfort, of unasked questions and answers that no one wanted to hear.

Back In his room, he saw new notifications arriving on his cell phone.

Kari

Suki, we need to talk.

You know it, I know it

The guy from that day just passed by the news.

the same one who kidnapped you

what are you into?

You can talk to me, Suki.

Please answer me

I'm not going to judge you

 

We'll talk later

everything will be okay

Damn, Dabi was absolutely right when he said there would be an after. He had to contact him as soon as possible before he could get as much information out of him as he could, he needed to know if the league knew everything. It was a shitty decision, but if he could fix at least something about this whole mess...

 

All of this was for a greater good than his current discomfort. If he wanted to continue being a hero, he had to get rid of all this as soon as possible, or at least improve his deteriorating mental health.

All of that was bigger than his fear and pain. As Dabi said, his heroism was worth far more than himself. No one could take his dream away from him, and he would give his life to it; he would rather die than dedicate his life to fulfilling it.

Ignored new messages from Kariage, searching directly for Dabi's number on his phone, finding the one he was so excited to see on his screen. Right now, he gave him nothing but a little fear and disgust.

He ignored the way his heart began to race, writing and deleting several messages without finding the right thing to say. Despite everything, that feeling was still there, intact, and that bothered him more than anything else.

 

Fav black-haired

 

We need to talk.

 

Oh, I was wondering how long you'd be.

 

I'm not doing this because I want to.

idiot

 

Oh really? 

Come by my house when you can.

 

You think I'm that stupid to get involved

consciously in a villain's house?

 

No kidnappings, I promise.

 

Are your promises supposed to be worth something?

 

I can't get out.

So if you don't want to wait a month, come.

 

Burnt-out bastard, what a sudden change of personality! He didn't bother to answer, since they both knew the answer. He had no choice but to go if the idiot couldn't get out; he was under temporary house arrest as a precaution, and he couldn't go out at night either if he didn't want consequences. That's why he had to get out without anyone finding out. Was it smart? No, but it was worth it, maybe, and just maybe.

At the first strange sign, at the first dangerous detail, he'd leave, or else he'd fight. He wouldn't be kidnapped twice, damn it.

The day passed nervously, playing with his drums and letting his emotions flow through music. He didn't care if the neighbors called his mother to complain, he just wanted the day to be over, for all this to be over.

He looked in the mirror, observing the scar that would probably remain on his lip when will end Toga's wounds healed, but they didn't need stitches, but they did need bandages and care. Thanks to Dabi, the cut on his lip didn't need stitches either, although it would stay the scar. It didn't matter; heroes had scars everywhere, it was inevitable; but he hadn't gotten those scars by being a hero…

“Does it bother you?” his father appeared in the doorway, leaning lightly against the frame. “The scar.”

“No. Heroes get them all the time,” he replied, turning to look at him.

“But” his father knew him so well…

“I didn’t get it by being a hero” he felt ashamed of himself.

“No, you got it as a kidnapped minor.” His father rarely got angry. “You did the best you could, Kats.”

His father's hand smoothed the strands of his blond hair. "Tell it to the witch. She blamed me for everything."

“Your mother was very scared,” he grimaced, “she’s… complicated.”

“Ugh, don’t start crying, man,” he turned away, looking away.

"Sorry, honey," he hugged him quickly before leaving, closing the door behind him. He showered again, more focused but also more nervous; he dried his crazy hair and changed his clothes.

 

At the end of the day, when his parents were already asleep, he decided it was time to leave. He slipped out the window, hood up and his cell phone fully charged; he did his best to avoid being recognized at the train station, or as he headed for the outskirts of Musutafu, even though it was night, and the city was very quiet. As quiet as that night.

He tried to remember exactly where that shabby, ugly building where Dabi lived was, but he couldn't remember where he was.made it difficult enough to walk a long way. It wasn't that he was in a hurry, quite the opposite; nerves ran through his body like an electric tingle that was impossible to ignore. His stomach felt churning, as if there was a tight knot just below her chest, one that grew tighter with each passing second. His throat was dry, and the words, the ones he had rehearsed so many times in his head, jumbled together, disassembled, and slipped away before taking shape. He blinked more than usual, he swallowed saliva even though he had nothing to swallow, and he looked around without really seeing anything, as if he were looking for an exit that did not exist.

What if it goes wrong? What if I'm wrong? What if I'm right in the end?

A constant murmur in his mind, so insistent that he could barely hear what was going on outside, reminding him how involved he was, and how much it could affect his career and his life in general. He felt like he was going crazy again.

He didn't want to disappoint his parents, his friends, Deku, Todoroki, Yaoyorozu, the four eyes or any of his classmates, he didn't want to disappoint his teachers, Aizawa, he didn't want to disappoint all might.

He soon found himself inside the building. He inhaled and exhaled repeatedly before opening the first door, barely feeling anything except his tense muscles and his jaw so tight he thought his teeth might break as he stumbled up the stairs, since there was no light.

He knocked on the door more sheepishly and gently than he would have liked, with a little desire to escape this shitty situation he himself had created. Damn, what the hell am I doing with my life?

The door opened for a few seconds, leaving him unable to think. There, frozen, as if he'd been frozen, he stood in the doorway for a few seconds, watching as Dabi almost smiled.

“Hm, are you coming in or…?” he joked, making room in the doorway for his to enter.

 

Entering felt like surrendering yourself to evil itself reincarnated in a human being.

 

 

Notes:

Hello! This new chapter is finally here. I've been very busy, and this was really hard to write! Katsuki's emotional situation is terrible. Personally, it was very difficult to write so much sadness. Don't worry, in the next chapter our favorite duo will return, and things will start to look up.

Notes:

Hello! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I guess I wanna make some clarifications! English isn't my first language, so if you see any translation errors, please don't hesitate to let me know.
This fic won't be about an abusive or toxic relationship. I wanna write about how a healthy relationship is built without straying from the characters' canonical personalities. I'm not shipping these characters in canon, of course! I just like their dynamic; I've read very nice things about them, and I guess that motivated me.

Have a nice week, thanks for reading! 𖹭

edit: I probably already realized how unrealistic it was to think of that as a "healthy relationship," it's practically impossible, so yes, I take back what I said because of my naivety.