Unedited.

ten years old when her stepfather took advantage of her. She hadn't screamed or cried when it happened. She hadn't pleaded for her mother to believe her when she'd been accused of lying.

Instead, she stared at her body every night, doing her absolute best to tear her skin off. The skin that'd been tainted.

Soon, Camie began thinking a bit too much. Those thoughts quickly began to morph into something uncontrollable and sinister.

They would wail and bang and scream persistently within the depths of her brain, refusing to shut off no matter how hard she tried to do it.

She oftentimes gave in to those thoughts.

Sometimes there'd be blood dripping down the crease of her wall after repeatedly banging her head against it.

"Your daughter is fucking insane, Mera. She's a fucking nutcase. First she said I fucking touched her, and now she's doing this shit. And you almost believed her over me, too. What the fuck?"

Sometimes she'd be sent to the emergency room after swallowing down razors and shards of glass.

"Camie, I know you need attention. But this is not the way to get it. I'm getting sick of the shit you constantly pull. You're embarrassing both yourself and me."

She was never given the opportunity to receive mental treatment, though. Not with the lack of money she had. Not with the parents she had.

Eventually, her fruitless methods of coping morphed into sticking her hand down her throat and flushing the day's lunch down the toilet.

Camie's mum was a junkie; she had been for as long as she knew her. She died that way too- slipping and violently hitting her head on the bathroom sink. Her blood and vomit were everywhere. Her eyes were rolled to the back of her head. She'd overdosed on heroin. Of course.

Camie, fifteen years old at the time, thought that maybe her mother had seen her tiny little brain that way, right before she bit the dust.

Well. The entire ordeal was only funny for a moment. She'd lost her mother, after all. And with her stepfather left, she now had to live with the greater evil.

Luckily, she'd been spared of that fate, as the man had refused to raise her and gave her up to her grandparents.

For the years that followed, Camie understood her mother a little better. Her grandparents were hardly an improvement from her previous caregivers.

At least she ate dinner more often.

Camie had trouble fitting into the local highschool. She was fresh meat and terribly awkward, so it became second nature for most of her peers to simply ignore her.

With her unresolved trauma and eventually befriending the worst group of seniors in school, Camie found herself getting into things she thought could distract her.

Alcohol morphed into narcotics. Narcotics morphed into pills. Pills almost sent her to her death. Her brush with death sent her to rehab.

It wasn't supposed to be like this, Camie had thought, her eyes filling with tears as she recalled the taste of her own vomit that had nearly killed her.

It wasn't supposed to end up like this. I was only trying to escape.

Her grandparents didn't let up on the scolding and lecturing, as expected.

You're lucky you're going to rehab instead of prison, they said.

Get your fucking life together, they said.

Don't end up like your mother, they said.

The rehabilitation center was an absolute fuckshow filled with troubled teenagers and a heavy air of misery.

Despite going through the horrid, teary eyed process of becoming clean, Camie found herself blending in well enough. With so many people to relate to, she inevitably became involved with a variety of individuals in her time spent there.

One of those people was Katsuki Bakugou.

Time passed and Camie did her best to sober up, not because she necessarily wanted to be clean, but because she wanted to leave the center as soon as she possibly could.

Upon leaving, she naturally exchanged contacts with some of the friends she'd made, going on to develop closer relationships with the people she'd met.

One of those people was Himiko Toga.

Thanks to her close friendship with Toga, Camie eventually managed to get into Yueei, mostly wanting to enroll there because Katsuki had chosen to go there himself.

With the immense stress of keeping up with her grades, developing more feelings for Katsuki, and running away from her demons, it didn't take very long for her to sink into drugs again.

Camie figured it was only natural that she ended up being a junkie, just like her mother. It was the unspoken curse that lingered over her life.

Everyone she'd invested herself in left eventually.

It seemed that for a long time, and for a long time to come, all Camie would know is pain. Pain and loathing.

"Camie."

Ah. It was Katsuki this time.

The blond eyesore was currently talking to her, lecturing her. Something about her needing to let him go, so that he can be happy. So that he can finally be "free". Camie resisted the urge to scoff. Apparently, a couple of therapy sessions and a cute guy did a lot for the fucker. Now he was all high and mighty.

He'd managed to text her, abliet with an unknown number, asking that they meet. To cut things off officially, apparently.

"I wanna make one thing clear. This isn't me trying to reconcile with you," Katsuki spat. Camie knew that tone all too well.

"You've caused me and Deku nothing but fucking trouble. I should kick your fucking ass for that." He inhaled, and exhaled. "But that wouldn't teach you shit, wouldn't it?"

Camie blinked.

"So I'm telling you now, Camie," Katsuki spat, her name distasteful on his tongue. "And this is the last time I'm gonna warn you. Leave us the fuck alone."

Leave you... alone, huh?

"I'll be working my ass off to get that ponytail bitch expelled in one way or another, too. If you know what's good for you, you'll fucking digest everything I'm saying."

Camie breathed a laugh.

The truth was, she was tired. She was tired of fighting for something as simple as her happiness. Katsuki was the one person who provided her small moments of happiness, even if he'd never loved her. It felt good to be needed, to be depended on.

And so, she fought. She fought against his homosexuality, feeding him with self hatred, fear, and an unhealthy dependency. She fought his boyfriend, hoping to instill fear into the brat so that Katsuki could see how fragile people always were. She fought his friends, his support system that seemed to always prevent him from going completely off the deep end.

She fought and fought and still failed to delay the inevitable.

Eventually, everyone leaves. Camie knew that all too well. So why did she even bother fighting so hard to hold on to Katsuki? He was fragile from the very beginning, slipping away from her fingers gradually until he vanished completely. It was only a matter of time.

"Save it." She breathed in, and out. Her eyes scanned over Katsuki's face, breathing in every part of him. His eyes. His nose. His eyebrows. His hair. Every part of him she'd grown to love so painfully.

That Izuku Midoriya was fucking lucky. He was lucky that she was growing tired. He was lucky that Katsuki actually loved him.

"I get it already. I ain't got all day to listen to you preach," she huffed. "I'm not gonna tell you I'm sorry for trying to fuck up your little twink. I meant everything I said to that fucker."

She shrugged, breathing out a laugh. "But I guess it doesn't matter what I do, or what I say. You're attached to each other like white on fucking rice."

Katsuki's frown only deepened.

Camie blinked away tears, her eyes glinting with a mixture of resentment, pain, and determination as she held Katsuki's gaze. "I... I don't fucking need you. I'll find a way not to, you asshole. I've tried to make you love me, but it clearly never worked. So don't look at me like that... Like you pity me."

Katsuki spoke up, his tone firm and final. "Your 'love' was fucking selfish, Camie. You've lived with your mother. You've lived with your stepfather. You know how shitty that shit feels. You try to pretend that their manipulation didn't affect you, but here you are. Repeating their mistakes."

Camie snarled, offended as she stepped backwards. "And? You think I don't fucking know that? You think I care? I don't know why the fuck you'd expect me to know any better. I'm not giving you the apology you've probably wanted for years. I'm the irredeemable crazy bitch, right? You've said your piece, and I'm finally fucking off the way you want me to. Now leave me alone."

Katsuki scoffed. "Nobody said you were irredeemable. You decided that for yourself and never looked back. If you got some fucking help-"

"I said," Camie seethed, anger and tears pooling in her honey brown eyes, "Leave me alone."

Katsuki sighed. He clearly wasn't the right person to tell her these things, and he wasn't the best of articulating his points sometimes. That wouldn't stop him from planting the initiative in her head though. Camie was a mess on every single level. She almost seemed irredeemable in truth.

But Camie knew pain. And where there is pain, there is always a longing for happiness.

"Fine, but I'll let you in on something," Katsuki said, pulling his bag over his shoulder.

"Therapy doesn't fix everything, not by a fucking long shot. Neither does a healthy relationship. Those stuff help, but it really all starts with you."

With that, he took off, leaving Camie to stew in her own intrusive thoughts.

For now, that was fine.

______

The sound of violins fill the silence. It's peaceful.

Katsuki still hates being like this, even after he's had his walls broken down. So sentimental. So vulnerable. So human.

In the far distance, he hears a voice.

"I'm a puppet on a lonely string,

shredded by an unforgiving wind.

Flesh rots and bones break,

but the cycle of heartbreak will never age.

And blessed be the strong-

they drink the blood of god.

Blessed be the broken-

they weave gold from the heart.

Blessed be weak-

they strum pain into song.

Songs of glory, songs of triumph,

songs that dare to live on."

Katsuki turns. It's an abundance of grassy, curled hair and matching forest green eyes. It's an abundance of freckles and hope. The voice speaks again.

"Kacchan."

Katsuki's breath hitches in his throat.

"Deku."

He speaks again before he feels himself slipping away.

"I hope... I hope you're doing okay."

Izuku smiles. A smile that was dim but glowed nonetheless, like moonlight.

"I hope so too."

Katsuki jolted awake, his dorm room ceiling being the first thing to enter his blurred vision.

With a sigh, he rolled unto his side, reaching for his phone as he lazily rubbed at his eye.

[ Good morning. Hope ur doing okay. - Kat ]

Two beats of silence passed.

[ Hey. I am. Hope ur okay too. - Izukuwu ]

Katsuki exhaled lightly, slowly rolling off of his bed before attempting to stand up straight.

For the weeks that had followed Izuku's visit, Katsuki had consistently sent morning texts. Sometimes Izuku would reply.

It was a bit of an awkward position to be in. Katsuki was lost in how to show Izuku he still cared without imposing on the temporary limits he'd set.

They were supposed to be on a 'break', after all. A break that had lasted for over three months now.

The first month had been fucking hell; Katsuki was once again reminded of how much he truly depended on Izuku for his overall well-being.

During that time, he didn't surround himself with his friends, either.

The following months were notably better, not that the time spent apart erased Katsuki's concern for Izuku.

And so, he began to send a few check up texts every week. Sometimes Izuku answered. Sometimes he didn't.

For a long time, Katsuki almost began to convince himself that Izuku no longer cared about him. It definitely felt that way.

But, his therapist helped, more that he'd like to admit.

His relationship with Izuku felt a little vague, but that was fine for now. Katsuki refused to lose the best thing he had going for him over his own insecurities.

As he brushed his teeth and tended to his bedhead, Katsuki's eyes caught a glimpse of the stack of papers that sat on his study desk.

He had a couple of assignments to hand in, some of which he had yet to finish.

Katsuki slipped his pajamas off, stumbling a little as he headed over to the stack of homework. Hesitantly, he inspected them, frowning a little.

Music theory homework. Western Music History homework. Traditional Music homework. Historical Literature homework. Prose Analysis homework. Literary Analysis homework.

Katsuki squinted. His literature assignments were all finished it seemed.

After staring off into space a little, Katsuki found that his mind began to wander towards a man with dark, long hair, a sluggishness to his gait, and tired eyes.

He sighed.

Maybe it was time to pay his lecturer a visit.

__________

"You don't check up on me anymore, old man. What's the deal with that?"

"I check in with your parents. I don't want to seem too biased towards you. Besides, I had no idea you even wanted me to talk to you."

"Some godfather you are."

"I have my own shit to handle, Katsuki." Aizawa leaned back in his chair, spinning it around to face him.

The two were currently in his office– a somewhat small but incredibly tidy space that sported text books, little ornaments, Aizawa's laptop that sat on his otherwise spacious desk, and an assortment of pens, pencils, and papers.

"You never come to me willingly

anyway, so what is it?"

"The assignment." Katsuki indicated to the stapled papers tucked under his arm, his voice monotone.

"Okay...?" Aizawa reached for the papers, inspecting them for a while before setting them aside on his desk. He gave Katsuki a look. "The physical copies aren't due yet, though. I know you're here for another reason, so get to the point."

"Fine," Katsuki grumbled, grabbing a nearby seat and plopping down on it. "I want your opinion on something."

Now Aizawa was interested. "What is it?"

"Well..." Katsuki hesitated, realizing that he'd be coming out to someone other than his parents and friends.

"I'm...gay."

Aizawa blinked, doing well to mask his slight surprise. "Is that the problem?"

Katsuki laughed dryly. "Not anymore."

"I see." Those words were enough for Aizawa to realize that there must've been some growth behind the scenes. He'd always known about Katsuki's issues to an extent thanks to being close to the family, but of course, he never knew that Katsuki had been in the closet to begin with.

"So, what is it then?"

"Izuku."

"Midoriya?" Aizawa rubbed at his eyes lazily. "Your assignment partner from last year? What about him?"

"We've been dating for a while. Almost three months actually. He helped me... A lot." Katsuki looked away. "We're on a break at the moment, though."

Aizawa's brows raised a little. "Did something happen between you two?"

"Yeah? No? Not really?" Katsuki frowned. "Some shit is going on in his life. And mine. He wanted to give us time to sort our shit out before developing our relationship further."

"Makes sense."

"I guess? But I wanted to show him that I'm still here for him, so I've been texting him every now and then." Katsuki's hands dragged over his face. "God, this is so fucking stupid."

"Does he reply, though?"

"Sometimes? I mean, I don't text him to get a reply, they're just morning texts mostly. And well, I just want him to know that... y'know... I'm still here."

"I'm sure that you texting him defeats the purpose of your break," Aizawa deadpanned. Katsuki scowled.

"But we haven't seen each other in almost four months! I just want to make sure he's fine–"

"I see." Aizawa's eyes shifted to his laptop screen. "So. Why'd you come to me about this? What about your friends?"

"I figured an old timer would know more shit, I don't know." Katsuki huffed miserably, ignoring the glare his godfather shot him. "And...I didn't want to bother my parents."

So you assumed I have nothing to do, huh, Aizawa thought, but said nothing.

"Well," he said, "if you've been on a break for this long without much communication, there must be something that he's busy with, don't you think?"

"My father died. I went to his funeral yesterday."

Katsuki's eyes lowered. Of course. Izuku intended on confronting his problems head on, removing Katsuki from the equation so he wouldn't 'burden him'.

"Now that I remember, he told me some weeks back that he visited his mother." Katsuki slumped. "I'm being fucking clingy, aren't I? What the fuck."

"I don't think clingy necessarily fits it," Aizawa provided. "You're concerned for his mental health. It's only natural."

He eyed Katsuki again. "But what about you? What have you been doing for yourself during this time?"

"I don't know, going to therapy? As usual? Nothing new, honestly." Katsuki blinked. "I did confront someone though. Someone I fucking hate. So that's one thing."

"Anything else?"

"...No."

"Yeah, I see a bit of it now." Aizawa rolled his eyes. "You didn't speak to your parents and update them on your well-being either, did you?"

"I didn't?"

"Then what's the fucking point of this break, Katsuki."

Katsuki blinked. Oh.

Aizawa sighed. This kid is hopeless. "I'm sure Midoriya wanted you to do the same thing he planned on doing, without him being a distraction. But here you are, worrying over him and ultimately doing what he didn't want you to do. He's living in your mind, rent free."

"But–"

"For a three month relationship, this situation seems so intense. Is there a reason for that?"

Katsuki exhaled heavily. "Deku helped me to not hate myself. And when I tried therapy again, it became easier overtime because of that. For the first time in years, I'm not actively trying to fuck my life over."

Aizawa frowned. "Why would you try to 'fuck your life over'? Was it a coping mechanism for...what happened?"

Katsuki blinked. This feels like a session now. "I think I had to find a better reason to feel the way I felt. I think about myself, my past, and where I am now, and I feel like a drama queen. I fucking hate it. I did shit to myself because I need a reason. Fucked around, stuck with people I fucking hated, hurt myself, drank, did stupid shit, and made myself miserable, all because I needed a reason. I needed a pass for the shit I thought about before sleeping every night. I needed more pain, more fucked up experiences so that I wouldn't feel like I'm stuck in the past."

His voice was small. "Can't be stuck in the past if your entire life is on a constant loop of fuckery."

"And what about now? Where are you at right now?" Aizawa asked, tilting his head in question.