2am Knows All Secrets

Chapter 11 - Last Night I Woke The Fuck Up

And then, Friday night, it was worse. Those thoughts started amplifying, manifesting in his dreams, faceless forms whispering to him, a constant drone of weak, pitiful, good-for-nothing, coward. He covered his ears, trying to stifle the taunts, trying to escape, but fingers wrapped in shadows pulled at him from behind, dragging him backwards, further and further away, no matter how much he struggled there was nothing he could do, he really was weak, and pathetic, worthless—

And when Katsuki jolted awake, crying out and shaking, he buried his face in his pillow. He was so close to fucking screaming into it, punching it, letting fists fly without anything holding him back. Let out frustration with every blow.

If only he were home, then he could keep his secret. He wanted to go home. Away from UA so he didn't have to be reminded of how goddamn average he was on a daily basis. Away from the dorms with prying ears. Away from nosey piece-of-shit Shitty Hair.

And then that motherfucker had to show up again. When shouting at him through the door to leave hadn't worked, Katsuki tried to cover the persistent knocks and callings with a pillow, but they still drilled into his ears and it was the single most fucking insufferable experience in his entire goddamn life. Fuck that.

With a snarl, Katsuki swung his feet to the ground and stomped his way to the door, wrenching it open, not caring about how miserable he probably looked.

And the sight of Shitty Hair definitely should not have made him feel as relieved as it did.

Yet, even when the guy had the nerve to step into his goddamn space, touch him, hug him... none of his Physical Contact Alarms were going off. There wasn't any panic, or discomfort, or urge to get away. There was only reassurance.

He was confused, and it was frustrating. Why was Shitty Hair bothering to comfort him, of all people? Why was he doing all of this? Why bother?

Katsuki realized that Shitty Hair cared. For some reason, the guy actually cared about him. And in that moment, as gentle arms surrounded him, making him feel safe and secure and cherished, Katsuki could feel his tough mask crack. It fell away in an instant, and he couldn't hold himself together anymore. Tears brimmed at his water line, overflowing and falling away silently.

It was all so overwhelming – a hug like this shouldn't make him feel so fucking much. He should have met the embrace with more protests, or at least bitter indifference, but... it felt nice. As if it was something he had been missing out on his entire life. So he brought his arms up, shakily, and allowed himself to melt into Kirishima for just a moment. And from Kirishima's whispered promises of secrecy, from the honesty that radiated from him, grew trust.

Although in hindsight, agreeing to the sleepover had been a fucking stupid idea. There was no way that he, Bakugou Fucking Katsuki, was going to allow himself to show any thread of vulnerability to some background character ever again. But he wasn't a fucking coward, either, so he couldn't exactly back out on his word. So with a disgruntled glower, the sleepover began.

And anyways. At least it was Shitty Hair. At least it was Kirishima, and not someone else.

So Katsuki slowly, carefully took apart his façade again, piece by piece, allowing himself to open up. Which was not something he had ever done before, for anyone. And maybe it was just the exhaustion, but in only a few minutes, it didn't matter that he was vulnerable.  It didn't matter that he was exposing his insecurities, his deepest secrets, because it was Kirishima. Kirishima listened to him. Kirishima cared about him.

Maybe there really was something behind that therapy shit, because getting all of this off his chest felt good. Like weights that had been pressing down on him were lifting one by one with every word he said, his mask crumbling away faster and faster until nothing was left, and it was absolutely liberating.