The Flap of a Butterfly's Wings

Mizpah

Bakugou was in a stream. His body ached and he wanted to cry but the extras were there (what extras? Where the hell was he?). He rubbed his head and smiled it off, but then a familiar voice spoke. It made him so angry and annoyed. He hated this voice.
"Kacchan! Are you alright?" Katsuki was face to face with Deku. His little stubby hand reaching out for him. Rage filled Katsuki (Why was he so angry? This was Izu. Shouldn't he be happy to see him?) and without a second thought, he slapped Izuku's hand away. The moment that the string always tied them together strained.

But it didn't tear. It would never tear.

Katsuki watched as the years went by and the hatred in his heart grew to a wicked degree. It was confusing. These events -pushing Izuku away, away, away, and burning and bruising him, saying awful, cruel things to him- never happened. He never sat back and watched as people gave Izuku permanent scars or pushed him down the stairs only to laugh at his tears. So what was this? It was far too real to be a dream, but what else could it be?

Izuku never got kidnapped and Auntie never died. Izuku never left him, either. Everything was so different, but they seemed so much like memories. It didn't hold the fog that dreams carried. Katsuki preferred this to reality because even though he was so convinced that he hated Izuku (He could never hate Deku. No matter how much he wanted too. Besides, even in this... realm? Fragment of his imagination? He could sense something underneath all of the fear of weakness and loathing. Katsuki could feel warmth. Whenever this version of himself glimpsed at Izu's smile, he felt a flutter of fondness and serenity. Katsuki came to a conclusion that this terrified the other version of himself.) he would forever prefer this version of the one where Izuku has endured kidnappings and the death of his mother. At least this way, Bakugou could see Izuku everyday.

They were in their last year of middle school now, and he had gotten worse. So had everyone else. Even the teachers, while not directly, still found ways to make Midoriya's life more difficult. Class had finished and while not the most important detail, Bakugou noticed that he had gotten taller and could make out his quirk thrumming through his veins. Stronger than ever.

He knew it would only continue to grow.

Izuku was small, like a twig. He had eyebags under his eyes, not as bad as the Izuku he knew two years ago, but still concerning. His shoulders are hunched to an impressive level and he's shaking, always shaking.

He regrets what he's about to do before he even knows what. Soon he finds out as the Katsuki-that -isn't-him-but–is-him walks towards the poor boy and starts tossing his notebook around with the extras (Katsuki vaguely recognizes them from his elementary school. Although they have matured in looks, he can tell that they are still a bunch of idiots). Then, with a hollow sensation in his chest, he uses his quirk (it's meant for good, he wants to yell. Not this.) to damage the precious book and throws it out the window.

Bakugou wants to go over and hug his Izu, but he can't. He's not in control. And when he thinks it's over he opens his stupid mouth again.

After years of bruises, burns, and scratches. Name-calling, ridiculing, and demanding Midoriya to give up on his dream, Katsuki thinks nothing could be any worse than what's already been said and done.

But he's wrong.

"If you want a quirk so bad, why don't you do us all a favor and take a swan dive off the roof and pray for a quirk in your next life?"
   
Katsuki hates himself.

__________

His eyes don't snap open, but slowly flutter. He's clutching onto Izuku's All Might plushie that he left behind when he left with all his might. Trying to stop the tears before they gather, but it's too late. For the first time in months, Bakugou Katsuki unravels. Months of bottling up his emotions towards... towards everything illustrate themselves with his sobs and stuttering breaths. The ache, the stab, of not seeing Izu in so long and the loneliness he's felt have been weighing on him to the point where it's hard to stand at times.