•Chapter Four•
|SLIGHT TRIGGER WARNING FOR: MENTIONS OF SELF HARM. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK|
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On his way home that day Katsuki could feel something bubbling, stirring in the pit of his stomach, anger and something else he couldn't understand, and he held them in long enough for him to travel from the school to his home. Those feelings were directed towards his father who sat in his reclining chair with his eyes heavy-lidded after a long day of work. Katsuki hadn't expected his father to be home before he was so all the things he wanted to say and ask weren't lined up in his mind properly so he had to wing it, or come up with something within the span of a few seconds.
He tossed his bag onto the floor and obstructed his dad's view of the television as a way to say, "we need to talk".
It took his dad several long seconds to register that his son was in front of him for he was exhausted after working for more hours than he would have liked and the lack of sleep he received the night before. He wasn't in the mood for talking, just sleeping.
"Old man," Katsuki said. His brows knitted together in a scowl and his eyes narrowed into a hard glare. "Did you know?"
The tired man rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand and slowly pushed the footrest of the recliner down so he could sit up properly. "Know what?" he asked, turning his gaze upwards towards his son's angry face, a sight he was used to seeing by that point. He was close to forgetting what his son's face looked like when he was content or smiling because all he ever saw was a look of anger or something along the lines of a resting-bitch-face.
"Did you know about him? Shitty Hair." His dad seemed to not know who that was. "Kirishima? The kid you so desperately wanted me to partner with?"
He could see everything click behind his dad's tired eyes, his brain working and remembering the kid his son was talking about. "What about him?"
"He's blind. Did you know?"
The surprise in the older man's face was more than enough to give Katsuki the answer he was looking for: his dad didn't know. Maybe he did know and he was trying to get Katsuki to work with him out of pity and he was simply playing him the whole time? That didn't seem likely though... his dad's expression told him a different story.
"I wasn't aware."
As the last word left his lips, Katsuki and turned on his heels, marching down the short hallway to his room where he slammed the door shut aggressively. He ran a hand through his ash-blonde hair. So many thoughts swarmed his head...
Was he a bad dancer for getting beat by the redhead? Or did his family pay a fuck ton of money to rig the contest so he'd win? No, Katsuki watched his dance that night; he clearly harbours some sort of talent. He didn't know what to think or how to feel or how to move forward with the new information.
Oh fuck. Practice. How's that going to work if Shitty Hair can't see? Will someone else be there to help them along the way or are they going to be left to fend for themselves? They weren't going to win, no way in fucking hell. There were too many obstacles in their way... way too many and overcoming them seemed like a long shot. He didn't want to get onto the stage only to make a mockery out of himself.
Fuck.
Katsuki collapsed onto his bed and stared at the blank ceiling, trying to wrap his mind around everything while simultaneously trying to come up with a plan that might or might not work depending on how the events within the coming day play out. Backing out seemed like a viable option the more he thought about it, but he wasn't a quitter. His mom had taught him to push through the difficulties in life because giving up gets you nowhere and teaches you nothing at the end of the day. All the obstacles in life are learning experiences.
Shutting his eyes, he could hear her speaking in that soft voice she rarely used. He could hear a small grin splitting her face as she began her speech that he had heard so many times before. Even when he wasn't in the mood for it she forced him to listen because it was important. "Quitting is giving up, Katsuki. Giving up is failure. You have to see things to the end even if the ending seems so far or if it seems like the ending won't be what you want. You can't ever give up, you hear me?"
He could hear her and feel her. He could feel her flicking the back of his head when he did or said something out of line, and he could hear her singing some old song poorly while making her signature breakfast: homemade blueberry pancakes with fresh syrup that was bought from a farmer. He could feel the warm hugs she used to give after he would win a competition, the only time she'd ever give him one. He could hear and feel her...
...so why couldn't he see her? Why couldn't he see her daring eyes or her heartwarming smile? He hadn't been able to see her for a while. At first, he could see her as clear as day but time kept moving and the memory of her face began to fade unwillingly. No longer being able to see her caused a longing for her, a type of hurt and miss Katsuki never thought was possible. He never liked to admit it, and he would never dream of saying it out loud, but he missed her. So much. So much that it hurt.
He reopened his eyes, seeing the same plain popcorn ceiling, and slowly drug his hand down his face, feeling the jagged edges and smooth areas of skin that went from his cheek up to his forehead. That was the reason his mother was no longer with him. Staying quiet all those years ago would have kept her around, he wouldn't mind suffering if it were for that reason.. Now Katsuki was never going to be able to see her face in the crowds while he's on the stage or the look of pride when he graduates. And it's all because he got fed up with... His body shivered just thinking about him.
Disgusting. The thought of him alone was more than enough to make Katsuki want to shower so he could scrub his skin raw his touch was gone... but he had been scrubbing for years and he could still feel his hands, see the marks he left. He still relieved those times over and over and over again.
.
Don't think about it.
.
Don't think about it.
.
Don't. Think. About. It
.
Deep breaths... it's not worth it. Stressing over something that couldn't be changed wasn't worth it. He got his justice, well sort of.
Just live on, he told himself.
There were other things to be done, more important things than thinking about things from the past he couldn't change or drowning in his own thoughts. He could distract himself with something else...
...like stalking that stupid redhead because why the fuck not? A distraction was a distraction and he'd take what he could get.
After pulling himself together by banishing any unwelcome thoughts, Katsuki searched the redhead up on any social media platform he could and only found him on a few. The one he appeared to be most active on was Instagram, but how? What was the point of using an app mainly consisting of photos if you can't see them?
Katsuki scrolled through all the photos and found that Kirishima, or someone else maybe, put image descriptions on all the photos. Even the videos, which were short clips of him dancing in what appeared to be a practice room (there were a few of him on stage), had some sort of description. The videos also had subtitles if there was music playing or talking. He looked through the whole page, or it felt like he had.
Most of the posts were normal teen posts. A large group of the photos were of him and his friends, the pink haired girl and the dunce face he met during school, or memes that he probably didn't even find himself. Some of the photos were just of him with extremely long captions talking about the things going on in his life at the time or how he was feeling. A lot of them talked about being blind. And people liked them, they were motivational and uplifting after all so it made sense. People liked those sort of things because they can see someone who was at a low point in their life and how they've grown.
Simple things like "it gets better" and "it'll be okay" can mean a lot to someone during their darkest times.
With a look of concentration on his face, Katsuki moved from Shitty Hair's page and looked through the list of people the boy was following and found Deku. That shitty nerd. He too had image descriptions on all his photos and videos along with subtitles, probably for Kirishima and maybe just for accessibility purposes. He lingered on Deku's page for so long he almost lost track of time, the thought of messaging him popping up more than once just to catch up or whatever but he didn't in the end. There was no use in rekindling old friendships, if what was between them could even be called that, if he was going to be moving again within a few months time.
It would be an understatement to say he was a little eager to move. He couldn't wait to leave. The place held shitty memories that messed with his mind and tugged at his heart in shitty ways because Rockfell was where everything happened to him. Being there hurt him and he couldn't wait to leave, to escape from that depressing ass place once again. Leaving behind all the horrible memories, all pain and suffering, he dreamed of it and he hadn't even been there two weeks. It wasn't home. It never was. It never would be.
You can't ever give up, you hear me?
〄
The sun was out. Kirishima could feel it's warmth heating his face as the bitter, winter air swarmed him and he could see the faint shadows of the trees and lampposts as he walked passed them. For once the flaming ball of fire wasn't covered by a thick blanket of clouds. The only shitty thing about the sun being out was that it melted up the thin layers of ice on the sidewalks creating slush puddles that were just as slippery as the ice, if not more. Those sort of things were dangerous, for the sighted and blind and even with the help of a guide dog there was no solid guarantee that he couldn't slip.
Next to him, Mina skipped, not batting an eyelash at the risk of possibly slipping and busting her head open. She hummed a tune way out of key but hearing her hum was a way for Kirishima to know she was still there, not that she would leave but it had happened before. Mina wasn't like that.
Some days the two would walk home together, Mina telling Kirishima stories of what happened in her classes and some of them seemed pretty legit. Others didn't. True or not, Kirishima stopped caring because it was nice to hear the way she told stories. Dramatic and over the top, loud and crazy, the unbelievability didn't matter when she told them. They were entertaining. She was a storyteller, a damn good one at that and Kirishima really hoped she would put her talents to good use in the near future.
Riot stopped abruptly during their walk, something that was very unlike him. Kirishima didn't know why until the object, or person, in their way started to speak in a harsh tone.
"Faker," the masculine voice said. "You're a fucking faker."
Oh.
Hearing things like that wasn't uncommon, in fact, it was a little more common than what Kirishima was comfortable with. Faker, liar, attention seeker. He's heard them all before. There were times when he was able to brush them off without a second thought and other times it wasn't that easy. Sometimes those words, those voices, would remain for so long. For too long. And he never knew how to make them go away. Nothing seemed to help during times like those, not even dancing. So he'd let them burrow themselves into his mind where they stayed, taunting him when he's been kicked down or when he least expects it. Words... they have power because people give them power. But giving them power can be so hard...
"Oh go fuck yourself," Mina spat back, glaring fiercely while grabbing Kirishima's elbow so she could lead him away but he didn't budge. She knew how much those words hurt him and didn't want him to endure it any longer than he had to. He never showed when he was hurting but she always knew. Always. He was her best friend, how could she not tell? She knew him more than she knew herself, it would be a crime if she couldn't tell what he was feeling when he wasn't showing it.
"Why're you so fucking defensive? Shouldn't have a reason if you're not faking." The guy was talking at Kirishima, seemingly ignoring Mina. He could feel his eyes burning into him and he felt uncomfortable under his gaze. He felt small.
So so small.
As a child, he remembered when kids in his class would hold their fingers up in front of his eyes and ask him how many they were holding. There were those select few times when he guessed correctly and everyone lost their shit and instantly started calling his blindness fake. Teachers told his parents that he wouldn't get bullied if he didn't fake being bind. Even after they showed his diagnosis on paper, the paper his doctor had given them, people still insisted it was fake and that what they brought in as proof was forged.
Kirishima inhaled deeply and blinked several times. Riot, being the best dog there ever was, could sense his owner's stress and pressed his head against his legs (since he couldn't reach his chest) as a way to comfort him. It helped and gave him the courage he needed to speak.
"Only scum and unmanly men would feel the need to lie about something that serious, man," he said and let Mina lead him away.
Standing up for himself felt good. Maybe if he were in a better mood he would have decked the guy right in the face, or anywhere his fist managed to land if he was able to even hit him. Now that would be a sight to see.
"Then I guess you're scum, huh?" he called out to their backs.
MIna wouldn't let him turn back. And he was glad she didn't.
The rest of the walk home was quiet aside from the crunch of snow and squishing sounds of the slush underneath their shoes. Kirishima was caught up with the words that jackass said. Scum. He knew he wasn't scum because he wasn't faking, but something about the way he said it made Kirishima believe it to a certain extent. At least the dude didn't say anything about his manliness, that would have been the straw that broke the camel's back.
You aren't faking. They're the attention seekers, not you.
Light slowly began to fade throughout the town as the sun made it's decent behind the mountains that surrounded them. Mina told Kirishima that the clouds were a purple that slowly faded into an orange in some spots and she said the mountains had a purple tint to them. A vast majority of the mountains were covered in trees affected by pine beetles or the large fire that took place years ago because some jackass dropped a cigarette while on a hike. The sight was beautiful nonetheless and was one of the main reasons so many people came to visit their town.
"You can see the snow on the peaks sparkling from here!" she said enthusiastically. "Can you picture it?"
He said yes even though it was a lie. He couldn't picture anything. The peaks were white, he knew what white was but he didn't know what it looked like. And he knew mountains were bumpy in a way and that they were large but that was the extent of his imagination. If Kirishima was given a pencil and paper and was told to try to draw a set of mountains he wouldn't be able to accomplish it. He told her "yes" to make her happy. Nothing more to it.
She walked him all the way up to his front door and before leaving she said, "You can use the studio tomorrow if you want. I'll be there." The plus about having a friend who's family owned the local dance studio was that he could use it whenever he felt like it, even if it was closed.
"Maybe I'll stop by then." He smiled at her and turned around, sticking a hand out to feel for the doorknob.
"Bye Kiri! I'll see you tomorrow!" she called to him as he stepped into the house.
"See you tomorrow."
He shut the door and let Riot go, hearing his paws carrying him to the kitchen so he could eat after a long day of work and the harness falling to the floor. One of his moms could take it off him. Kirishima didn't go to the kitchen after he slipped his shoes off like he normally would have and instead he marched up the stairs and sat in his room. Kaori came in to see if he was alright because he skipped dinner and he told her that he had a lot of homework that night. She didn't question him. Why would she? It was a believable excuse after all.
Kirishima didn't have homework, he lied when he said that. Truth was that he wanted to be alone so he could sit and think. Sit and be alone. Lifting the sleeve of his shirt used to be something he did daily but for a different reason. But at least this time he didn't cause harm but slowly ran his fingers of the smooth, slightly elevated skin that was a product of the more cataclysmic times in his life. He didn't want the risk of Kaori or Ayami seeing him the product of his own painful thoughts, even if he wasn't hurting himself. The scars themselves were something he wanted to hide.
Those times were gone but sometimes the thoughts that swarmed his mind at the time would come back like a bad memory. And those thoughts would make him want to do it all over again, to draw that cold blade over his skin again but he stopped himself before he could. Hurting himself would be like starting back at square one and he had come so far from where he was, he didn't want to let all the progress he made slip away from his fingers.
Sometimes though... he wondered when those thoughts, those terrible thoughts that broke him more than anyone was ever capable of, would come back and stay. When will they get the better of him? When will they destroy him? It frightened him to think about it.
Just before he fell deep into his terrifying thoughts, his phone went off. Kirishima jumped a the sudden sound but breathed a breath of relief and dug into his pocket to retrieve his phone shortly after. The second his fingers touched the screen the device started to speak to him rather quickly, reading everything to him as he glided his finger around the screen. He stopped when he found his notification bar, Kaminari texted him.
Thank you, Kaminari. You may have just saved me.
He smiled and stuffed his earbuds into his ears after he pulled them from his bag and untangled them, a random song from his playlist filling his ears the second he collapsed onto his bed. He opened the text from Kaminari and found that it was a meme. Under it, his friend described it well enough for Kirishima to understand and find funny. His reply was the laughing-crying emoji.
Their conversation during the rest of the night derailed from stupid memes and turned to Kaminari asking questions about their math homework like "what'd you get for number four" or "dude, how the fuck do you do this one?". Kirishima wasn't much help because math wasn't his strong suit, nor was any other subject. He was thoroughly average in fact. But he was still passing, or at least he was the last time he checked, and that was all that mattered.
Times like those helped him feel normal. Talking to his friends about dumb shit and dancing and going to school with all his peers made him feel normal. But people offering him help around the school or even at a crosswalk bothered him, even if they meant well. It made him feel helpless, unmanly. He didn't see his blindness as a disability and he didn't see himself as a handicap, he saw himself as someone with a challenge he needed to overcome each day.
Everyone has challenges they have to face and each one varies from person to person. Kirishima's challenge just so happened to be that he couldn't see. He was okay with that. He could make it and he didn't need anyone's help.
He can do anything anyone with sight can do. He can write, he just does it differently, and he can read, but it's with his fingers instead of his eyes. He goes to school and hangs out with his friends on the weekends. He can watch movies and actually puts effort into his appearance. People don't realise he's capable of some much because of the issue he faces and would face forever. They didn't seem him but saw that issue instead. Kirishima hated that. He wanted to be seen for being him.
Being blind is something he got used to. He got so used to it that he never remembered he was blind until someone reminded him...
...sometimes he wished people would forget too.
〄
Word doubt: 3790
February 24, 2018
So Imma say this now: characters may seem a little OC and I'm sorry. Because they aren't mine, I don't 100% know how they might act or what they might say in certain situations. And because of their pasts, they might not have certain traits that are in the canon. Besides, tweaking them a bit helps them feel like they're a little more mine, even though they aren't.
That being said, Imma TRY to update once every 1 to 2 weeks. What's the best day for me to update on? Sorry for the lack of updates, I've been putting all my time and energy into what was supposed to be a one-shot but turned into a short story. I'll try to find a balance between them <3
-StarsNeverLading
P.S. THIS BOOK WAS NOMINATED FOR AN AWARD IN THE "BNHA Awards" SO LIKE THANKS????❤