Bakugou's lungs burn, his legs turning the pedals quickly. He has a headache beginning to pulse violently and a burning heart.

Faster.

He leans against the handles, removing his butt off the seat. He barely notices the pain in his hand over that of his crumbling thighs. This aching gives him a sense of release, something to focus on other than his feeling and everything going on in his life.

"Look, it's the 1A loser!" A mocking voice pulls Katsuki out of his headspace. He looks with a fuzzy gaze at who he believes to be Monoma from class 1B.

He removes his feet from the pedals, and they continue spinning quickly under him. He stays on the bike, not ready to show his weak limbs as he'll probably collapse on the ground.

"Go fuck yourself," Bakugou meant to say confidently, but it came out scratchy and small. He grabs the water bottle beside him and chugs it.

"No wonder everyone thinks you're a villain."

"Monoma, be respectful," Kendo asserts.

"Why are you here, Bakugou?" Sekijiro-sensei asks, 1-B's homeroom teacher.

"Aizawa-sensei wanted me to."

"He knew you'd-" Monoma begins but Kendo cuffs him across the head. Bakugou grimaces at the familiarity.

"Keep out of Bakugou's way, class," Sekijiro-sensei explains and informs his class of what to do for the remaining of the lesson.

Bakugou rubs his temples and slowly gets off the bike, forcing his legs to work as he makes his way to the bench-press. He puts five kilos on either side of the bench-press bar. He situates himself properly and does a few with ease, pushing through his aching hand. He slowly increases the weight till he's bench pressing 27 kilos. His arms already sore from a barbell curl session earlier on. His slippery hand reshuffle around the bar.

"That's all you can do?" Monoma teases, coming up beside him.

Bakugou tries to ignore him and focus on doing more reps.

"The infamous Bakugou is weak!"

"Shut up," he hisses.

"What was that? You had something to say? I couldn't hear you over your loud ego."

"I said, shut up!" He screams, mid rep, the gym goes silent as his voice echoes.

With the smallest ease on the bar, it goes slipping out. It slams on his chest and he coughs roughly. He struggles to get the bar off, ending up pushing it on his neck. He takes long exasperated breaths, trying to get any oxygen in. Seijiro-sensei runs over, lifting the bar off him with one hand.

Bakugou springs upwards, coughing as he holds his neck.

Thin fingers wrap around his neck, the pressure an uncomfortable amount, the dark void taking him.

"Are you okay, Bakugou?" Seijiro-sensei asks.

"The fuck I'm fine. I would've been fine without your help," he insists.

"You can't bench-press without a spotter. It's dangerous," he reminds.

Sounds like every other fucking teacher, tantalizing him for their own pleasure.

Bakugou stands up and walks towards the bathroom. He enters a stall and sits on the toilet. He takes deep breaths until it's stabilized.

He pulls off his shirt, arms collapsing under the harsh workout consequences.

A bruise is forming on his chest. He touches it carefully, the skin already tender.

No excuses.

He puts his shirt back on, splashes his face with water and returns to the treadmill for some hardcore running to rival speeds or Usain Bolt and distance of Haile Gerbselassie.

Even after class 1B leaves and the sun begins setting, he continues running.

4pm

4:30pm

5pm

5:30pm and Bakugou's legs literally collapse underneath him. The emergency clip falls out of place and the treadmill slowly stops. He lies against the machine, rough breathing filling his ears and legs twitching under him.

"Bakugou!" a familiar voice calls out behind him.

Lazily, he tilts his head to see no other than Kirishima running over to him.

"Are you okay?" he asks, kneeling down and studying Bakugou's weak state.

"I'm fine." Bakugou uses the treadmill to help him stand up, legs quivering under him.

"You don't look fine, Bakugou."

"Yeah, well you don't look like your depressed," he retorts insensitively.

Good. Get him off your back.

"Huh? how'd you-"

"I'm not an idiot like dunce face. I can read the signs."

Bakugou shuffles towards the gym's exit, hearing Kirishima catching up to him.

"How long have you been in here for?"

Why is Shitty Hair so relentless?

"It doesn't matter. I'm fine on my own, Shitty Hair. go play Mario Cart with Sero or something."

He gives him a lazy flip of the wrist as the signal to bugger off. Bakugou's knees buckle, Kirishima catching him before he collapses on the floor.

"You have to stop working so hard."

Bakugou stays silent, not pushing Kirishima away. He helps Bakugou out of the gym and towards the dorms. It's silent, the evening breeze cooling his hot cheeks and solidifying the sweat. Kirishima picked up his bag and school clothes on the way out. "How'd you know I was at the gym?" he asks tiredly.

"I'm not called the Bakugou whisperer for nothing." He smiles brightly and Katsuki rolls his eyes.

"You know we're always here for you, me and the rest of the group I mean," Kirishima reminds.

"I don't need help. I'm fine."

As they close in on the dorms, Bakugou pushes Kirishima away, making his own effort up to Heights Alliance. Brain tired and foggy, he immediately makes his way to the showers, ignoring everyone who tries to strike conversation. Knowing Kirishima, he'll drop his stuff of at his room. He grabs a towel from the freshly cleaned pile and locks himself in a stall.

By the time he's finished showering, his legs don't burn as much and the realisation that he'll have to go out without a shirt on kicks in.

You forgot your clothes. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Running a hand through his hair, he takes in the black and yellow bruise along his chest before storming to the door. He won't back down from a challenge.

The door swings open, nearly hitting him in the face. "Oi, what the hell!" Bakugou scolds.

"What happened to your chest?"

Bakugou looks up at Todoroki, the culprit of the near-death experience.

"It shows how much harder I work than you." he smirks.

Katsuki's about to push his way out into the common room, when Todoroki hands out a maroon jumper. He looks at it then back at Todoroki. "What?"

"Take it."

"Huh? What? Why?"

"Because everyone will want to know where the bruise came from."

"And?"

"They're bound to see your hand."

Bakugou hides it self-consciously behind his back.

"I don't give a fuck. I'm not wearing anything that's touched you."

"Okay."

Todoroki begins walking off to the stall when Bakugou rips the jumper out of his hand. "Don't tell a soul,"he demands.

Todoroki nods. Bakugou pulls it over his head and enters the common room.

"Nice jumper, Kacchan," Midoriya compliments.

"No one cares about your opinion, Deku." Bakugou scowls.

"I didn't know you were into those kinds of clothes," Mina says.

"You don't know anything about me."

Thankfully.

"Where are your pants?" Denki asks. "Oh, you like letting it breathe."

"Ew," the girls say with disgust.

Bakugou rolls his eyes. "I forgot them."

He walks to his dorm, thankful when he arrives and sees his bag and clothes outside the dorm. He throws them on his bed and takes off the gross but comfy sweater and puts some of his own clothes on. Now he just has to return the jumper.

He falls onto the hard mattress and closes his eyes, sleep slowly washes over him. Before he knows it, he's out like a light, stomach relentless with its churning.

----

To wake up to an alarm clock isn't something Katsuki has experienced since the Kamino Ward incident. Sleep cures his eyebags but not his aching stomach. He sits up, confused why he slept well for the first time in months. No self-deprecating thoughts, no nightmares. Just a dreamless sleep.

After much pondering, he's already dressed and about to leave his room. The answer strikes him. The only thing he did different, was train till his body gave out. On that note, his legs are stiff and walking down stairs is going to be painful.

He walks down slowly, using the rail for support. He ways the pros and cons of going to the gym after school, the pros significantly weighing out the cons. The common room is full of chatter. Especially from stupid Deku. Some students are whispering to each other pointing at him.

He clicks his tongue and grabs a slice of toast, scoffing it down instantly. He slides into his usual spot and watches as Kirishima slides into the other side of the table. Like before, he stuffs his hand in his pocket.

"Are you feeling better?"

Bakugou nods.

"You should take it easy today."

"You can't boss me around."

She can.

"But you'll overwork yourself and might pull a muscle."

You can fight through that.

"I won't pull a muscle."

"How can you be sure, Bakugou?"

"Stop with the fucking questions!"

Bakugou slides out of the booth and out of the dorm. He ambles to the main building when his phone rings. Ignoring the caller ID, he picks up.

"Your homeroom teacher called me today," the female says stoically. Bakugou freezes.

"What do you want, Old Hag?" he chokes out.

"You useless brat can't even handle your own emotions!" she snaps.

Bakugou doesn't speak. It's better to let her release her anger.

"You exploded a fucking mirror. And don't give me a stupid excuse about it not being your fault because now I have to pay for the repairs."

"Izuku wouldn't do it, would he? So why do you do it? Stop throwing tantrums! Just be more like Inko's kid! At least he isn't lumped in with villains."

Bakugou's heart pangs and he takes a deep breathe, blinking longer than needed.

"I've had enough of you, Katsuki. I want you home no later than ten on Saturday."

Mitsuki hangs up and Bakugou bites the inside of his lip. "F-Fuck!" he whispers.

"Bakugou!" Kirishima calls out behind him. Katsuki wipes his eyes and turns around, scowling once again.

"What do you want?"

Kirishima skids to a stop beside him, catching his breathe. He clutches his phone. "Have you seen the video yet?" Kirishima asks warily.

"What video?" Bakugou asks.

Kirishima passes him his phone. He doesn't even need to start the video to understand what it's about. The first frame is of Katsuki in the bathroom, hands wrapped tight around the sink.

They know you're weak, Katsuki.

"I'm going to kill those fuckers!" he shouts angrily, throwing the phone back to Kirishima and storming towards school.

His ears buzz, legs powered with anger, sweaty palms preparing for the beating. His phone beeps distortedly in his back pocket. He would ignore it but only one person has that text tone.

"You got into another fight!?"

The ramifications of getting into a fight hit him hard. He'll no doubt suffer horribly over the weekend if he does.

Bakugou forces himself to stop and take a deep breathe. To do what he's always done in front of Mitsuki. Bury the anger deep within (which isn't his strong suit). "It's not worth my time," he lies to Kirishima.

"Bakugou..."

"Shut up! Don't talk to me!"

Bakugou storms through the UA doors and up to the classroom.

The door sounds a crack against the stopper. "Fucking fucker!" He flips his table over and smashes the chair against the ground, luckily, it's throw proof. Suddenly, scratchy fabric wraps around him, drawing his limbs closer to his body.

"Join the League."

"No! Let me go!" He freaks, setting off explosions, scorching the surface of the desks. Suddenly his Quirk stops working and his efforts are in vain.

"You have a powerful Quirk."

"Let me go!" He screams, throat burning. Fear tears its way up his throat. "Fucking let me go!"

"It's not worth being a hero."

He struggles within the fabric, trying to push it away from him to escape.

"No, no, no, no... I-I... stop it. Let me go. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you."

"Just like your mommy?"

"Shut up!"

Suddenly, the fabric loosens and Bakugou stumbles out of it. He pushes past the chairs and through the hallways.

"You can run but you can't hide."

He ignites his explosions sending him flying through the hallways. People all around him moving to get as far away as they can. The pain of the cut reopening doesn't stop him. He makes his way to the emergency exit and smashes through it, slamming the door behind him.

"You're going to pay, Katsuki."

Bakugou slides down the door, covering his mouth as the stinging in his chest infects his eyes before he lets out a muffled sob that still manages to echo through the stairwell.