Unedited.

THE SKY SOBS loud, retched and wrong

I'd love to live for you,

If only you'd hold on.

And I'm broken, open, fully fake

Wrapped and packaged, cellophane

I feel, I know, I am pain

Tormented and labeled insane

Oh fuck, I'm religious,

You are my faith.

Goddamn, I'm sickening,

Burn me at the stake.

"In our last session, I asked you to tell me what you think about religion." Ms. Nemuri re-crossed her legs at the ankles, leaning forward with interest. Katsuki exhaled deeply, his right foot tapping against the concrete floor in unease.

"You can start off with any pointers you want," she encouraged.

Katsuki scowled at her soft, easy-going tone. "I don't know what you're asking me right now."

Nemuri hummed. "Do you not have an opinion on religion?"

Katsuki had an opinion, but it was a clusterfuck of an opinion. He thought about the way he'd been caught in the act of doing something that was considered so painfully disgusting, he thought he probably should've killed himself. That would've been way better than what was coming next.

His mouth moved on its own. "When I went to the camp for the first time, all the counselors already knew every fucking thing about me. My grandfather told them what he caught me doing. I was already in and out of counseling for being in fights and shit, so they were keeping an eye on me."

"I shouldn't have been so fucking stupid to even think about rebelling back then. It just got me more shocks and more counseling." Katsuki's gaze dulled, his crimson eyes lowering in sheer hatred for the topic of conversation.

Nemuri decided to stay silent, allowing him to think.

"Katsuki! Masaru! Breakfast's ready," Mitsuki called, a smile on her face as her son approached. Her arms were spread open, ready to lovingly suffocate her son with an aggressive hug after finally being with him again for the first time in two years.

She could tell something had shifted within him, and so, she was determined to coax it out of him.

But he didn't budge. His gaze was glued to the tiles below him.

Masaru and Mitsuki shared a look.

"Hey bud," Masaru said, "did you sleep better last night?"

"Hey," he muttered, lifting his head to meet his parents' faces, "do you people hate me or something?"

"Excuse me?" Mitsuki hissed, but her husband placed a hand on her shoulder. He gave her a look, before turning his attention to their son.

"What do you mean, Suki? Did something happen? Was it another nightmare?"

Katsuki blinked. He'd spent two years in actual hell with his grandparents. Two years of isolation from his friends back at his old school. Two years spent at a camp that he was sent to every summer and winter. He left himself every hour. His brain was a coil of constant confusion and self-loathing.

"No," he replied, his voice sharp and pitchy. "Fuck off."

"I hate religion," Katsuki suddenly said, his gaze burning into the floor below him, "and I hate Christians even more. Every second I breathe I can feel myself being swallowed by hatred." He held his head, feeling a sharp sting of pain forming.

"There's nothing more triggering than hearing or seeing anything remotely religious. That is how much I fucking hate Christians. Because they're such shitty fucking people."

"And I try to act like I don't hate all Christians, but the truth is I do. If someone is religious I can't help but hate that part of them," he hissed, his voice cracking.

"Because everything is so deep, so deeply seeded into me."

__

"Do you really have to go?"

Kirishima's voice was whiney and his pout was comical. Izuku smiled softly, laughing sheepishly at the dramatic display.

"I'm sorry, my mum insisted on it." He thought about the tone his mother had used over the phone, and he could feel the heaviness of Katsuki's gaze on him. "I've missed being around her, anyway."

The four of them were gathered in a now empty classroom. Today was their last poetry class for the semester, and Kirishima had snuck in for the fun of it, despite not being a poetry student.

Kaminari joined in on the shenanigans, tugging on Izuku's arm like a toddler with a whine. "That guy will never mellow out now that you're leaving. He'll boil us alive, Izuku!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Katsuki snapped, jerking forward in his seat. "You too, Kirishima. What the fuck?"

"Now, now," Izuku chuckled, placing a hand on Katsuki's shoulders to calm him down. "They're just kidding, Kacchan, you know that."

Kirishima wolf-whistled.

"What's the big fuss for, anyway?" Katsuki muttered. He looked away, fiddling with his pen. "Almost everyone is going home for the holidays. You're acting like it's the end of the fucking world."

"Well yeah, but not so early into the break," Kaminari argued, and he had a point. Izuku was leaving the very same evening of his last class. Inko had insisted on him coming over as soon as he could, and he wasn't one to ignore his mother's wishes.

"Doesn't matter," Katsuki shrugged, his gaze still hanging low.

Izuku smiled softly, placing a gentle hand over Katsuki's. "I won't be long. Just two short weeks." He tore his gaze away from his boyfriend, eyes meeting his friends' once more.

Kirishima smiled, noticing the exchange. "Right. You're really dependable after all, aren't you?"

__

Izuku folded his very last shirt and stuffed it hastily into his bag. He zipped it with force before standing up with a huff, his eyes sweeping over his room. It'd only be two weeks, but a small part of him was uncomfortable with leaving Katsuki.

He's not five, a voice in his head stressed. Yeah, therapy is tough, but he'll have three sessions at most while you're gone.

Yet, another part of Izuku couldn't help but replay the way Katsuki had lost himself just the other day. After that incident, Katsuki had been a lot quieter, reeling with guilt from the scare he'd given Izuku. Not that the curly-headed teen had any suspicion of that being the case.

Of course, Katsuki had apologized over the matter. He of all people should've been aware of Izuku's boundaries. It was something he still hadn't forgiven himself for.

"It wasn't okay, and I'm happy you know that," Izuku sighed. "But please, Kacchan. Stop apologizing already. I've forgiven you. You were triggered. You were panicking. It was awful recalling those memories, and you were in a bad place. I understand. I wouldn't hold that against you, you know that."

"That's the fucking problem," Katsuki hissed. "It's always me. I'm always doing some fucking shit. I'm tired of being so angry. It's fucking exhausting and you don't deserve that."

"Let's not make this a thing," Izuku pleaded, his wide green eyes glassy, his brows furrowed with hints of frustration. "You've never had an outburst like that since we've started dating. You have issues with your anger, but you're actively working on that. Besides, you've never been that way with me."

His expression was sturdy, his tone final. "Don't demonize yourself. You've been there for me more than anyone else has."

"Okay, okay," Katsuki scowled, obviously embarrassed with the flow of the conversation. Being treated so tenderly was still a somewhat fresh concept for him.

Izuku leaned in, features softening a little. "Anyway, it'll probably be a while before I get back. My mum's unpredictable; I might end up staying for an extra week. Let's wish each other luck until we're back here in January. Okay?"

Katsuki sighed. "Fine."

With a deep sigh escaping him, Izuku slung his large backpack over his shoulders, grunting a little from the extra weight.

He padded towards the door, observing his room for a bit before exiting, locking the door securely after he did.

The hall was eerily empty, as was the rest of the entire complex. Some students finished the last of their classes earlier and had decided to head home days before, but most had gone to other sides of the campus for gatherings or holiday events that were being kept.

Even though it'd begun to snow lightly, it didn't feel like the Christmas season to Izuku. He couldn't really complain though; the holiday in Japan was more or less meant for young children and lovers. Because his father was never around, the childish giddiness of Christmas has been preserved, thanks to his mother who tried filling the hole even after Izuku had gotten too old for it.

With that thought in mind, Izuku found himself feeling sort of uneasy as he trudged lazily towards the train stop. His mother initially had asked him to come home even sooner than today, but obviously Izuku argued against that. The entire ordeal wasn't too out of character for the overprotective nature of his mother, but he couldn't help feeling that something was...off.

The train ride home was somewhat long and tiring, but taking long, slow steps up to the front door of his old home made the hassle feel worth it. It had only been a few months, but he missed the somewhat small abode- stripping pastel paint and all.

Izuku rang the doorbell, hearing a distant 'coming' before the door swung open, revealing a short woman in a house dress with a head of straight, forest green hair.

"It's been a while, huh mum?" Izuku smiled, allowing the stout frame of his mother to completely smother him with an intense hug.

Inko Midoriya leaned back, her large, green eyes teary, and a wobbly smile stretching her lips. She hastily stepped away, but only after brushing away imaginary lint from Izuku's sweater and fussing over him.

"Izuku! I'm so happy you got here safely. I know the ride must've been way too long," she huffed, her dark brows bunched up in thought. Izuku laughed a little. He almost forgot how much of a worrywart his mother was.

"I'm fine, mum," Izuku insisted softly before plopping down on the soft couch. "And I've only been away for like, four months."

"I know, I know, Mr. All Grown Up," Inko sighed, heading into the kitchen. Her voice carried a higher volume as she spoke again. "How's everything going there, by the way?"

Katsuki. Drugs and sexual assault. Happiness. Warmth. Trauma. Katsuki. Assignments. Stress. Healing. Katsuki. Nightmares. Friends. First experiences. Katsuki.

"It's been...interesting," Izuku sighed, opting for the much easier option. His mother would most definitely lose her mind if she found out about his experiences, both good and bad. She wasn't a judgemental person by any means, but she'd always laid 'morally sound' ground rules for Izuku.

Besides, he was way too mentally and physically drained to not give his mother a half-assed answer.

Inko was curious about everything, though. How Ochako and Iida were doing, If he made any other friends, if his classes were too difficult, if he was in any clubs, the whole nine yards. Izuku told her as much as he could.

After tidying himself up and having dinner, Izuku decided to address the very much present elephant in the room as they both laid back on the couch, watching t.v.

"You're hiding something, mum." He sighed, turning to look at her. Her brows furrowed, poorly hidden anxiety washing over her face. She closed her eyes briefly before sitting up.

"I was hoping to wait until you've settled in better. I've been wondering how to go about telling you this," she sighed, her shoulders tensing. "But I guess that kind of thinking is useless. You've always been perceptive, Izuku."

Izuku frowned, a hint of worry curling in his chest. "So what's wrong?"

"I heard from your father," Inko said, and Izuku's eyes widened in shock. "Well, more accurately, from his new family."

She met her son's gaze. "He passed away the other day."

•

Katsuki, despite his dislike for annoying people, was somewhat neutral on parties. He went whenever he was in the mood for it, or if his friends convinced him just enough.

And the latter of the two instances is what brought him to this dorm complex party. A fucking stupid, corny, Christmas themed party that was a week or so before the actual holiday. Too early, in Katsuki's humble opinion.

The music was generic, the energy was at average capacity, and the air reeked of liquor and rum.

Shinsou, who lived too far from home to bother spending his Christmas there, sat with him alongside Kaminari, who preferred to spend time back home at the last minute.

Katsuki was in a similar position. He'd become accustomed to not being around his parents ever since moving back from his grandparents' location. His experiences had made him a lot more adaptable and independent.

"This is fucking boring," he muttered, fiddling with the lit cigarette between his fingers. His smoking habit had lessened to a considerable degree after he began dating Izuku. Subconsciously, he didn't want to bother him with it whenever they hung out, and that mentality sort of stuck.

"For once we actually agree on something," Shinsou hummed, not bothering to raise his volume over the driving bass of the music. Kaminari slung a lazy arm over his shoulders, uncaring as he pressed his entire weight onto him.

"Maybe we should've slept in," he sighed, idly running a finger down the purple strands of baby hair at Shinsou's nape. Katsuki rolled his eyes at the exchange. Denki was notorious for being touchy, especially with people he was comfortable with.

"This is dumb," Katsuki sighed, "I'm heading in."

"It's still early, though!" Kaminari protested. "You're such an old fart, dude."

"Yadda fucking yadda," Katsuki mocked and stood up, his light brows furrowing at two figures that were worming their way through the crowd. He squinted.

"Wait... wait a fucking minute."

Kaminari noticed, standing up as quickly as he could. "On second thought man, let's dip-"

"You fucker!"

Toga came racing forward, a manicured hand swiping across Katsuki's cheek, her sharp, lengthy, red nails scratching the skin raw there. Behind her, catching up, was Camie.

Katsuki stepped backward, and spectators began to gather. He touched his cheek, still processing what just happened. "What the fuck-"

"You think I'd let you get away with the shit you pulled, fucker?" Toga hissed, the smell of bourbon wafting off of her. She pulled a butterfly knife out, swinging it with little regard as she ranted on.

Katsuki's face twisted in disgust as he backed away with haste, his gaze meeting Camie's.

"Don't answer her, dude," Kaminari whispered, grabbing Katsuki's sleeve. "It's obvious Camie instigated this shit."

Katsuki effectively ignored him. "What's your damage, cumdump?" he sneered, effectively pissed. "I'm the wrong person to bring this Jerry Springer shit to."

Toga stepped forward, her lips wobbling. "You humiliated me, you asshole. That's my fucking damage."

"That's on you for being such a shit person-"

With her guard down, Kaminari stepped in, swiping Toga's knife, dropping it, and kicking it as far away as he could. "What the fuck! Stay out of this, shit stain," she hissed at him, her golden blonde hair coming loose from its low ponytail.

Kaminari squeaked, backing away until he was behind Shinsou. "What the hell, Katsuki? She's clearly off her fucking rockers, man. Don't-"

"And you?" Katsuki went on, approaching Camie, "Don't you have shit to do? What're you bitches even trying to pull?"

"Careful, your ugly side is showing," Camie frowned, faux concern spreading over her face.

"You think I won't knock this bitch out because she's got connections or some shit? You think I'll hold my fucking swings against you because you're a girl?" Katsuki stepped forward. "I'm a fucking feminist."

"Enough, dude," Shinsou sighed, forcefully pulling at Katsuki's arm and dragging him away as Denki followed suite.

"I'm so fucking sick of them!" Katsuki exclaimed once they'd gotten far enough, yanking his arm from Shinsou's grip with a grunt.

"Don't give them any attention man," Kaminari said, frowning in concern.

"Don't fucking give me that bullshit!" Katsuki snapped, feeling his anger override his entire being. His eyes stung, voice cracking a bit as he went on. "You know what that ponytail bitch did to Izuku."

Shinsou looked away.

"Do you have any idea how shitty it feels? To go through what he did? And I," Katsuki hissed, tears running down his cheeks, "I fucking promised him. I promised him I'd do something about her. But I've done nothing but give him shit."

Frustration rolled off of him in large waves. "I'm a fucking failure. I'm a shitty person. He forgave me for the shit I pulled, but what good is that if I can't help him the way he's helping me?" He clenched his fists. "What's the fucking point?"

"He's with you because you're helping him," Denki insisted, his eyes wide and pleading. "Don't you know? You make him happy. He's not with you to fix you, Bakugou. He's with you to love you and be there for you. There's something he sees in you and you only. That goes for you too, you know." He leaned forward, placing a hand on Katsuki's shoulder. "Don't try to reverse what happened. Don't try to exact revenge either. All you can do for now is give him your support. You're doing your best. Don't throw away what you have over some guilt that won't leave you."

"You're the one who helped him get through the initial stress of what happened to him," Shinsou said, his voice calm but empathetic. "They both deserve anything shitty that'll inevitably come their way, but you've already tried reporting what the ponytail one did, right? Just give it time. It's great that you're trying to bring Midoriya justice, but don't let it overwhelm you."

Katsuki looked away, feeling humiliated. No one had really seen this side of him, especially Shinsou. Izuku was an exception of course, along with Kirishima, who'd been there all those years ago when he first opened up.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, turning away. Kaminari smiled.

"We're your friends, dude. Don't sweat it. Get some rest, okay?"

Katsuki nodded, and with that, they separated and he headed to his dorm room.

With a loud groan of exhaustion, he threw his entire weight onto his bed, burying his face under a multitude of pillows. What a fucking day.

Within the space of a few minutes, Katsuki felt himself drifting off into a light sleep, his mind filling itself with thoughts of Izuku as he did.

Thunder crashed.

And then, a knock at the door. Followed by several. Followed by beautiful singing.

Camie.

"Katsuki~" she laughed, her voice faint but very much present. For a moment, Katsuki thought he'd imagined it, until she called again.

"Suki."

Katsuki felt panic pound in his chest, and for the first time in years, he felt a familiar kind of fear. He sat up slowly, backing into the corner of the bed where the walls met, trying to be as quiet as he could so that she wouldn't hear the movement.