Patchwork Hearts {Kiribaku}

Life of the Party

-Present Day-

Katsuki

"Room for one night, please."

"You want a queen bed?"

"Don't care."

"That'll be 5,000 yen."

Katsuki tossed the bill on the counter for the receptionist to take. Quickly he stuck it in the cash drawer and swapped it out for a key card.

"Room 10. Enjoy your night."

Without another word, Katsuki swiped the card off of the counter and retreated out of the cigarette and coffee scented lobby, back into the sheet of rain pouring down from the dark blanket of clouds that haven't seemed to move in several days. Luckily, room 10 was at the very end on the bottom floor, putting him further away from most people.

The first thing Katsuki did after dumping his backpack on the bed was check the mini fridge and yep, sure enough inside were small bottles of alcohol. They were accompanied by cans of soda and water bottles, but he cast those aside in favor of the vodka, wasting no time before slumping at the end of the bed and twisting the thing open, taking a swig.

This was routine now, and he was used to the burn as the stuff seared down his throat; the warmth it left him with, sitting in his belly and fueling what was left of the fire within him, was worth it. At least he thought so, and he wasn't about to think too much deeper into it than that.

Cheap motels—sometimes hotels—and their cheap alcohol, passing out when his thoughts began to slur together, and leaving the room early in the morning once showered and slapping down a bit of cash to cover at least some of the alcohol he took. After that he'd head down the road, and depending on the area, stick his thumb out until someone stopped. More often than not the car he slipped into would smell of tobacco or marijuana, but with his relatively tattered clothes and dirtied appearance, they pegged him for one of them.

And lately, they weren't entirely wrong. He kept a pack of cigarettes on him, but he'd had the same pack for almost a month now and it was still half full. He never sought out getting high but he never denied a joint or a pipe being passed his way, either, and always made sure he wasn't getting himself into some other shit that would seriously fuck him up. He wasn't that desperate. Yet.

Katsuki was only recognized once by one of the many people who picked him up on his hitchhiking travels, though he never took his contacts out and once his hair grew back in enough he was keeping it dyed dark, just to be on the safe side. The driver hardly reacted, and then offered to let him stay on her couch for the night. The second he realized what she really wanted, having stripped down to her underwear almost the second he stepped into her tiny, cluttered first floor apartment, he was out. He was polite, at least, waiting until she was in the shower (having offered to let him join her) to slip back out the front door and find another motel for the night.

~✵~

As many times as he told himself he shouldn't, he fucking shouldn't, it'll only turn out horribly if they find out who you are--he found himself getting involved in nearby villain or disaster situations where people needed help. He'd jump into action, quickly, and take out villains or rescue people who were trapped in situations usually caused by villains. No matter how much he yelled at himself for how risky it was, because it was so easy for the media to pin the blame on him, his own internal scolding couldn't override the other voice in his head--the one that sounded remarkably like someone he'd spent the majority of his life with...

"You can't just sit around and do nothing!"

"See? You saved them. You're a hero, Katsuki."