Song: Sweater Weather- The Neighborhood

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I AM. I tell my stories with drawings.

I drag a sharp end across flesh,

Alone as I stare at the red being drawn in.

I am innovative.

I draw not for eyes to pry,

Rate my art out of ten,

But for my benefit, I draw,

And watch as the flesh heals itself.

If someone manages to love me,

They'll have to be creative as I.

Because I love to watch clean skin

Being scarred by drawings-

By stories you can't vocalize.

Izuku's eyes narrowed a bit at the poem before him. He hadn't expected Katsuki to actually be decent at writing. He felt a little disappointed in himself for assuming such things.

Now, what did it mean?

Izuku could immediately tell what the message was on the surface level, and it was a message that made him a little queasy and worried for his classmate, but what should he do first to address it?

He decided to create questions to answer.

He grabbed his pen and poetry notebook and began immediately. After all, the assignment was due the next day.

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I am what he made.

I am the proof of my mother's pain.

He is what she probably sees

Every time she looks at me.

I don't want his skin, his blood, nose or eyes,

I don't want to see him every time I blink

Because every time I let myself down, I wonder,

"What would mother think?"

It's pointless though

To be hung up on an invisible fight

After all, I'm pretty sure

He doesn't even remember what I look like.

Katsuki lifted his gaze off the paper before him and plucked the cigarette that hung between his lips out. He frowned a bit.

What the hell was that?

He couldn't decide on whether he hated Izuku's poem or not. It felt way too personal, and it made him feel inquisitive and gross for reading it- like a diary almost.

He wasn't one to talk, though.

But in Katsuki's defence, he wrote his poem when he was about sixteen. He merely dug it up and retyped it out of sheer laziness. Not much has changed since then, but he figured since it wasn't a fresh thought, it didn't matter.

He pushed his thoughts aside and rolled over on the bed, deciding to read the poem again.

The next day, everyone entered the room for class. They turned their printed essays in at Aizawa's desk, who was late as usual.

Izuku sat down and sighed. He felt mentally exhausted, even though an assignment like this usually didn't take much out of him.

Katsuki strolled in last, holding the attention of every student as he slipped in his seat next to Izuku's. The greenette briefly questioned why Katsuki chose to sit next to him in the first place.

"Pssssssst!"

Izuku's head snapped to the direction of the noise. Surprisingly, it was Denki.

He'd been in his class all along? It didn't shock Izuku that much that he hadn't noticed that before. After all, he'd never interacted with his peers until recently.

Izuku waved, smiling a bit.

Katsuki observed the interaction and rolled his eyes. They've literally met, like, once? Why were they being so chummy?

Aizawa strolled in leisurely as if he wasn't fifteen minutes late yet again. He didn't even bother making an excuse.

"Sorry for being late again," he said tiredly.

"Why's this dude always fucking late?" Katsuki leaned in and whispered to Izuku, making the latter both startled and irritatingly flustered.

Why's he acting friendly with me? Izuku thought but decided against asking out loud.

"I mean," the blond continued, "He couldn't have overslept; motherfucker looks like he lives on caffeine."

Izuku admittedly stifled a snicker at that.

Katsuki noticed and grinned a bit.

"I heard that Bakugou," Aizawa sighed. "You guys do know that you're at the very front, right? You're literally inches away."

"Apologies, sir," Katsuki grinned and leaned back again.

The lecture seemed to have flown by, and soon enough students were slowly exiting the room. Bakugou, of course, was the first to go.

On his way out, Izuku felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Mr. Aizawa.

"Midoriya, a word of advice. Agree on a common theme with your partner for each week, okay? Makes it easier to come up with something and make rough notes for the essays," he said.

Izuku's eyes widened. "Thanks, sir."

"No problem, kiddo. I just want you to have better chances at passing. Especially since Bakugou's your guy." Aizawa patted Midoriya's shoulder and left the classroom.

Midoriya hummed. It seemed like Aizawa knew Bakugou well enough. Interesting.

Midoriya exited the classroom last and stepped into the somewhat empty hallway.

Kaminari had been waiting there. He perked up at the sight greenette and leaned off the nearby wall.

"Hi, Midoriya my man!"

Izuku smiled awkwardly. "...Sup?"

Kaminari smiled brightly. "Just wanted to talk to you for a second."

Izuku hesitated a little. He honestly just wanted to bury himself in the comfort of his bed.

"Sure," he said instead, "shoot."

Kaminari began strolling down the hallway. Izuku caught on and walked alongside him.

"So," the yellow-haired teen began, "It's about Bakugou."

Izuku sighed. Of course, it'd be about him.

"Well, I know you probably hate him, and I don't blame you. I mean, he was being a homophobic asshole the other night. But there's a reason none of us really hit his head in like your friend did," Kaminari nervously chuckled a bit before continuing.

"I, no all of us, felt like real assholes for not doing anything at the time. But that's because we know Bakugou's thought process when he gets like that."

"I know his thought process, though," Izuku said irritatingly. "He thinks about how gross a homo like me is."

Denki flinched at the tone but nodded understandingly.

"I'm not asking you to forgive him; that'd be pretty fucking rude of me. But...I guess I just wanted to explain that Bakugou has some heavy issues dealing with. It's an unhealthy coping mechanism for him to take them out on others. As his friends, we try to help him out, but there's only so much we can do, you know?" Denki said quietly.

"Issues?" Izuku questioned.

"I don't wanna out him to anyone, because it's really personal," Kaminari said, "But yeah."

Izuku sighed. "Whatever."

"Cool! By the way, we should totally be friends, dude! Let's exchange numbers," Kaminari exclaimed. Izuku smiled a little. "Okay."

After successfully exchanging digits, Kaminari waved goodbye and headed off in the opposite direction.

"Kaminari!" Izuku called without thinking.

Denki turned around sharply. "Yeah?"

Izuku hesitated. "I-Is that a birthmark in your hair?"

Kaminari laughed. "Yup!"

"Huh," Izuku said to himself and headed off again. At least he knew now.

More importantly, whether Izuku liked to admit it or not, there were clearly things about Katsuki he didn't understand.

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