(non-canon, angst, hurt, not a lot of comfort, imagery of gross/disturbing injuries)
Drinks and cheers were pouring out at the annual Young Hero Association's Halloween party. They'd really blinged it up this year, holding the renowned VIP event on the hundredth floor of the tower, its fantastic light show able to be seen across the city. Helicopters buzzed around like hounding flies, cameras onboard trying to capture fleeting glimpses of the star guests inside, because everybody with an IQ wanted to be at this party.
Long strings of paper slithered off M/n's shoulders as he pushed through to the dance floor. The hundredth level of the building was a secure place, where Kurutta allegedly held meetings to decide the fates of journalists and such. The attitude of her esteemed guests seemed they had ignorantly pushed these bloodied ledgers aside as they boogied like unnamable beasts. Mt. Lady and Midnight were tearing it up so provocatively that M/n had to avert his eyes. He wasn't slut shaming though, only losers did that.
The LED lights were on constant shifts, one second they were entranced in deep greens and reds to being plunged in purples and pinks, yet M/n's inherited crimson eyes stayed vigilant, almost eerily switched on like a predator, as he sifted through the crowds like a man made of sand. He was searching for familiar company, luckily he didn't have to look for long.
"Aye! Chicken Little!! I know a nerd when I see one!" An enthusiastic man yelled out, his voice carrying over a sea of bopping heads, "Get yer ass over here, man!" M/n rolled his eyes with a smile when he found himself being wrapped in a large, red wing. Under the plush feathers, the party's trembling base and acoustics was drowned out. A part of M/n wanted to be tucked under this safety blanket the rest of the night so he didn't have to interact with anyone.
"Yo, Drumstick." The teen patted his friend's chest, then pulled back with raised brows, "what the hell are you supposed to be?"
Hawks' jaw dropped at the question, then gestured to himself as if it were obvious. "No, seriously, I can't tell what you are, idiot." M/n laughed at his offended expression.
The winged pro was dressed in a suit, dappered up and tailored to fit every sharp angle from shoulder-blade to ankle, with a grey slime dribbling from the pockets and his jugular. It looked like he wore a sloppy tie, the way the sludge dripped down his front.
"Ugh, obviously something too artsy for your pea-brain to understand, dipshit." The hero flicked the boy's forehead, a glint of a smile in his eyes.
"Of course, I'm too dumb to get... this masterpiece." The teen pointed his costume up and down smugly.
"Well, what the heck are you then? Annoying kid I have to babysit tonight?" Hawks shot back, smoothing out the fabric at his wrists, trying to maintain his rizz.
M/n looked down at himself, then back to his friend who was cradling his seventh cocktail of the night. "Dude," the young boy scoffed, "I-I'm you, man! Jeez, how hammered are you right now?"
Hawks gulped down the rest of his drink and set it down on the bar, his eyes keenly scanning the crowd of bustling bodies before landing on a beautiful victim. Absently, he ruffled the young boy's hair and shouted over the thumping music.
"Pretty sure I don't have dark hair or blue eyes last time I checked!" Hawk's voice rang out, causing M/n to raise his brow confusedly.
"What?" He asked, but his voice never carried itself to the man, lost in the maze of sweaty bodies and jumping feet. With his friend's comment whirling in his mind, M/n set off to find the bathroom.
He had to squeeze himself like toothpaste through the small opening people gave him, lifting their arms jovially, drinks sloshing, inviting him to dance. He politely declined several times, and then spotted the silver glint of the toilet sign. "Finally- Whoa!" He was suddenly yanked by the elbow by a firm grip and collided into two bodies.
"Hey, hey, hey, little listener!" A loud banana bent down to screech in his ear over the music, "You enjoyin' the partaayyy?!" Present Mic's enthusiasm was making his eardrums bleed. Wincing slightly, M/n pulled away and gave a downturned smile. Mic and Aizawa were stood before him, their feet tapping to the music that slunk around the air, filtering into their lungs like powdered drugs.
His homeroom teacher was dressed like a mummy, bandaged up from head to toe, only one grumpy eye visible. His costume looked familiar, like it'd once been on him for a purpose, but M/n couldn't put his finger on it. Mic, on the other hand, had an impressive amount of sfx going on. He was in his hero costume, but built into the ribcage was a gaping hole, through which M/n could see the flashing lights.
"That's really cool, sir." The teen complimented, a dazzle in his eye as he gazed up at his teachers, "How'd you make it look so real?"
Tilting his sunglasses down with his index finger, Mic and Aizawa shared a look. "Whaddya mean, little listener?"
"Um? Like, how did-"
"Who're you supposed to be, exactly?" Aizawa's gruff voice cut in, effortlessly making the older Bakugou feel self conscious.
"I'm Hawks, sir." He imitated flapping his arms, hoping the tiny red wings taped to his back did him justice along with his slicked back hair and yellow goggles.
"Coulda fooled us!" Mic laughed, and suddenly hands were grabbing M/n left and right, dragging him away from them as their figures grew blurry. "I don't remember that guy having such patchy skin!" Whilst sinking into the shoal of limbs, M/n's eyes widened as Aizawa's bandages began seeping with a red liquid, blotching his frame like spilled ink. Mic's fake wound began dripping as he smiled and chugged another drink- the liquid spluttering out his exposed oesophagus.
This time M/n managed to keep his head above the crowd, practically fighting his way to the bathroom, and his palm slapped against the door, pushing inward and falling gracefully into the urinals. The music pounded on the door like angry fists as he stumbled to the sinks, grasping the porcelain and taking shaky breaths. He wasn't good at crowds and loud noises, they were too much to compartmentalise- too many sounds, vibrations, pitches of voice, squeaking feet, and the heat. It was immobilising.
He didn't even know why he was at this stupid party. Only because he had too. Kurutta insisted he show his face, prove his ongoing involvement with the association.
Inhaling some shuddering breaths, M/n raised his head to the mirror, the lights above flickering in their glass confinements, as if trembling with fear.
His eyes locked onto the reflection. And what stared back horrified him like poison to the nerves, shutting him down immediately.
Dark hair, blue eyes and patchy skin. Stapled skin, with a cruel smirk.
It was Dabi. Dabi was grinning darkly back at him.
M/n fought the air with his fists and flailed to the ground, crying out a frightened yelp. What was this?! He'd definitely come here dressed as Hawks- he was sure he didn't imagine him and Katsuki up late last night sticking red feathers to a jacket, or his dad sewing the collar, the three boys working in comfortable silence.
Shakily he stood back up, ready to break the illusion, but staring back at him now with wide eyes was himself. Back in his corny get-up, panting and on the verge of collapse.
He patted breathlessly behind him until his hand met the door, and with a whoosh fell backwards into the inferno. He needed to get out of here, no matter how hard Kurutta's invitation had implored he stay there and entertain.
With fleeting steps he dodged through the crowd, until spotting someone who might help, someone who could always calm him down. "Tensei! Aniki! Ten-"
"Hey, hey," Tensei Iida caught M/n effortlessly in his arms, "what's wrong, bud?"
M/n stammered over his words, unable to compact all that had gone wrong so far. By synchronising their breaths, Tensei managed to lighten the teen's exposed nerves, and all seemed well. With a teary smile, he looked up to the man he viewed like a big brother, only for his heart to plummet like a broken elevator.
Tensei was no longer before him, but draped on the ground like a bloodied rag, crawling around as gushes of red trailed behind his legs. Tensei was groaning helplessly, gurgling on his bile, as he reached out to grasp M/n's trouser leg.
"You... did... this." With those final slurred words, Tensei's head dropped to the floor with a thud, and the people's laughter and singing concealed M/n's yells for help.
With Tensei's dead weight draped over his shoulder, M/n was dragging his comrade toward the exit, angered that no one could be bothered to stop dancing as they suffered. His glare fell heavily on All Might and Death-Arms, who were laughing so hard at seemingly nothing, their jaws splitting open.
One last body stood in his way, M/n reached out to tap his shoulder, begging him to move.
"Oh, M/n! Are you enjoying the party?" Mirio beamed as his eyes, coloured red by a pair of contacts, bored into the exhausted teen.
"Mirio..." he wheezed, adjusting the heavy man lain over his shoulder, "Please... step aside... he needs help..."
"Hmmm," Mirio tapped his chin thoughtfully, "I'll let you pass, on one condition." The boy smirked, making M/n's mouth run dry.
"Huh?"
"You guess who I'm dressed as." The young hero spread his arms, flaunting his outfit.
"Please, just let us through, we won't be a problem if you just let us-"
"Nuh-uh," he wagged his finger, "You have to guess."
M/n's eyebrows furrowed as he dejectedly gave in to this stupid, demeaning game. His eyes trailed down what appeared to be a school uniform, and then upward to a jagged, blond wig and ruby eyes. Red and green liquid was oozing out of his mouth, his eye sockets, every pore, as if he was being suffocated... or possessed, by an oozing villain.
M/n's eye widened in horror, nearly dropping Tensei as the vilest, coldest shock gripped his spine.
"That's right!" The boy bowed like the finest actor in this theatre of betrayal, "I'm your brother! And look, everyone else is on theme!" He grabbed the teen by the shoulders, spinning him to face the crowd.
The music had stopped, but M/n couldn't tell when. It was a silence filled with only his ragged breathing and galloping heart.
A thousand eyes pierced his skin with their hollow look.
"All the people you couldn't save! How fun!"
Aizawa... after the attack? And, had he killed Mic like he hurt the Nomu? Tensei... whom he never had a chance of saving on time... and the sludge... everyone was wearing a variation of Hawks's slimy costume... like the people, in Hosu... who couldn't be rescued from the monster.
"It's what you've done that has brought us all together." A familiar, clippy voice shot pain through M/n's chattering bones. As General Kurutta, dressed in monk garb, sidled up beside him. "We celebrate your failures that have brought us death."
"Shut up!" Bakugou wailed and sunk to his knees, covering his ears with his sweaty palms.
"You're designed to kill. And sometimes, all you need to do is step back, not help, and let fate do the rest. So thank you, M/n. My darling boy." She smiled, patting his shoulder.
Mirio knelt down to his eye-level, only, staring back, those weren't coloured lenses.
Katsuki was in front of him, being internally twisted and curdled by the sludge villain.
"I trusted you, and look where that got me. Thank you, big bro!" He brought M/n in for a hug that made his twin begin to cry.
"SHUT UP!" He screamed, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, trying to block out the nightmare, "SHUT UP!"
"YOU SHUT UP, DICKBAG!" A pillow was flung harshly onto his face.
M/n sprung upward in bed like a body at the morgue, panting and shivering.
"My god," the real, unharmed, Katsuki muttered while walking into his twin's bedroom, "You've been crying like a baby since mom called us down for breakfast. The hell's wrong with you?"
"I- you're okay!" M/n leapt out of the covers and grasped his brother's face, turning it this way and that to inspect him for injuries.
"Yeah, I'm fine. As you can clearly tell-" he shoved his brother away, only to be wrestled into a tight hug, "Get off me, freak!"
"You're okay." M/n whimpered, raking his hands through Kat's tufts. Not a hair out of place.
Rolling his eyes, Katsuki tried to fill the silent atmosphere, being accustomed to his brother's emotional attitude: "You going to that halloween party tonight?"
Glancing at the corny costume laid out on the floor, glue sticks and red feathers scattered, the older twin shook his head firmly.
"Fuck no."