Chapter 1

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A/N: Hey all! This is my first BNHA fanfic and just my first experiment with the Villain!Deku AU. I hope I really don't get anything wrong, and that you enjoy! Art and music, not mine. Please, feel free to give me advice to improve and comment on things that could be fixed. Again, enjoy!

"Just pray you'll be born with a quirk in your next life, and take a swan dive off of a building." Bakugou swung his bag over his shoulder and walked out of the classroom, leaving Izuku to ponder his words. He looked at the insult, turned it over and over in his head, finding a crack, a leak, even, that maybe, Kacchan did still care. He could find none. The phrase, thrown flippantly at Izuku, seemed to have nothing but a second's thought in it. A second... That's all he's worth to Kacchan. A second of thought, a careless phrase, one that could potentially change everyone's life around him. Deku. Useless. Quirkless. A fanboy. Pointless. Maybe, a cop? They're... Useless. Just like him. He sat there, and allowed a decade's worth of insults wash over him, noticing the consistency in words and phrases like "useless" and "in the way." He turned back to the most recent phrase. "Swan dive off of a building." Said with a smirk, and a foot out of the classroom. Thoughtless. Stupid. Not worth it. In the way. Useless. He kept returning to that word. Useless. It became less and less a word and more and more a thought, a part of him. He looked and saw where it fit. He wasted so much space, so much opportunity. He's... Useless.

Katsuki Bakugou. A name that had been assigned to someone with what he could only describe as a two-in-one package. A gift, but the curse of not watching what he said. Rarely, ever so rarely, this amalgamation of curse, gift, and body, could truly wish one could eat words, but now he did. That phrase resounded in his head. He knew that the useless Deku wouldn't follow it, obviously, he's stronger than that, but he wished to take it back. The words stung just to hear them repeated in the hollow space in his head right now. Every now and then, that space would be filled with strategies and knowledge, but now all he could think of was that phrase, those words. ...Where's that useless Deku anyways?! He distracted himself from his thoughts by turning himself to the school and seeing if Deku was walking down the path yet or not. ...No. His mind went blank. Deku? Where's Deku? Deku? Then he snapped back to rational thought. He took off running down the path, his mind flying through every possible scenario, trying to find an answer besides the one that lurked, taunting, in the back of his head. "Shouldn't have, wouldn't have, but did. Shouldn't have, wouldn't have, but did." It repeated over and over until it took the rest of his scenarios and ate them. It grew, larger and larger, demanding acknowledgement. He finally did just that, and looked up, hoping beyond hope it was wrong, and what he saw... He ran faster then he'd ever in his life, faster than he thought physically possible, but he knew. He knew. There's no way he'd make it. He knew. He knew.

The sky was painted with pinks, purples, oranges, reds. A flaming ball set behind idealistic clouds and mountains, and he let it. A thought, a whisper, "This would make a pretty photo, a pretty painting." He let the thought slip out of his grasp into that flaming ball and burn. He let his mind be clear, be silent, as he watched the sunset. Looking down, now that was a bad idea. The sun caught his attention again and distracted him from his oncoming fate. Useless. Flew into the sun, setting like his hopes, his dreams, his desires. He gave a small smile, a nod of thanks to the sun, and opened his mouth for the last time, "We're alike, you know. No one can look at us directly, though for you it's because you're so bright, and me, it's because I'm so..." He trailed off, then looked back at the sun. "Thanks, friend. Have a joke before I leave?" Silence. He shook his head, murmured, "Not a 'no' at least." His head cocked, he let his full, bright smile out. "Why does the Sun go to school? To get brighter!" And his feet left the hard surface. And his hand gripped that piece of paper tighter. And his hair whipped back and forth in the wind. And his smile never once faltered as he imagined the sun groaning and laughing at his joke. And he closed his eyes.

He wasn't going to make it.

He won't make it.

It's going to all be over soon.

He won't make it.

He didn't make it.

Bright red against dark green. Christmas came early. But it wasn't a present he got this time, it was a stocking full of coal, and a little slip of paper clutched in a hand too cold, too stiff, too pale to be real. A name. Vaguely. His name? Maybe. His note? Maybe. His friend? Maybe. No movement. He wished he could eat words. And he read those words. They thanked him. They were out of place. He was out of place. His words. He was wrong. This was wrong. He left him and knew he wouldn't see him again. He missed him already. A slip of paper. Red against green. The sun set it's face below the horizon and left him to his thoughts in the dark of his room. He was done. He was too late.

He didn't make it.

It was all over.

His papers.

His journals.

His smiles.

His passion.

His bully.

His friend?

A name.

A thank you.

A promise.

Paper.

Words.

...

"Be a hero for me, Kacchan. Thank you for everything."

It was wrong.

He was wrong.

This is wrong.

Red and green.

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