~Brought to you today by Admin Bomb!
Halloween. God, Bakugou couldn't tell if it was his favorite or least favorite time of the year.
No, he definitely wasn't one to wear a costume and go out trick or treating. That time was way past him and he couldn't remember why and how the hell he was able to trust getting candy from strangers. Frankly that whole aspect of Halloween seemed so hypocritical!
Every other time of the year we’re told to not take candy from strangers. Never ever once were we allowed to take candy from them. But on this specific day? Sure! Go right ahead. Infact, take candy from MULTIPLE strangers!! Nothing could go wrong with that.
The countless reports of needles being stuck in licorice and suckers already being sucked in told a different story.
And the fucking k i d s. They were so annoying. Screaming and running after each other. Throwing a fit when they didn't get the kind of candy they want or when their siblings got one extra piece. The snot and tears. It was so gross.
That part of Halloween, Bakugou said fuck off to.
However the scaring? And the terrified faces? That's something he could look forward to.
Seeing the look of horror Pikachu got when he prayed on one of his fears was so exciting. The heightened anxiety in the Yuuei hallways made for some easy targets to make scream and run away.
That, is why Bakugou liked Halloween.
“Yo Bakubro, we’re gonna head out and get our costumes. You wanna come with?” Kirishima barged into his room, flicking on the light.
“Fuck no.” Bakugou cursed. The sudden brightness was stinging his eyes, the red irises struggling to adjust to sudden change. “I already told you last week you dumbass, I don’t do trick or treating.”
Kirishima's shoulders visibly went limp, a pout occupying his lips. “Come on man, it’ll be fun. You even get to scare some little kids.”
“I can do that without the help of a costume. Now get out.”
He huffed. “If you say so, man. We’ll be back later! See ya.” And with that Bakugou's door shut with a click, the lights left on.
The blond cursed the redhead under his breath. Why was it so hard to shut off the light when they leave! He has it off every single time they open the door, so why not shut it off again when they leave!?
Bakugou got up to shut the light off, but stopped in his tracks when he noticed a letter on his neat floor. When did that get there? Did shitty-hair leave it there when he left?
It was a pretty white envelope with a splotch of red to the left of the center. As he got closer he read his name in very intricate cursive. Had it not been for the date in a nice fine print, and the fact that he didn't like anyone and fully expected no one to like him back, in the upper corner he would have assumed this was an old valentines letter.
He picked it up. What the fuck was this doing here? The handwriting was very obviously not Shittyhairs. His was too rough and sharp to ever resemble something like this.
Hesitantly, he turned it around and found a wax seal on the back. A simple circle, nothing more.
The letter was ripped open, the wax seal completely forgotten. If the letter inside got ripped, that wasn’t his problem. Unfortunately, the letter went completely unscathed.
He took it out and unfolded it, careful to hold it horizontally in case this was a prank gift from one of the dunces that called him his friend, but there was no such thing. Infact, the letter seemed virtually empty except for right smack dab in the middle. A small word written in what seemed to be a font designed to replicate human writing.
Bakugou's eyebrows crinkled. That's it? He turned the paper over, flipped it back, then turned it over once more. Nothing.
“Such a waste of fucking paper.” He muttered, crushing the note within his palm and lit off his explosions, a caramel scent wafting through the air and black smoke trailing along with it.
He threw what was left of it into his trash, dusted it off his hands, and flicked the lights back off.
Whoever wrote that letter had a pretty terrible sense of humor
Bakugou woke up the next morning like usual. Stretch, pop his joints and spark a few explosions, then sit up and get ready for school. The letter from yesterday lingered in the back of his mind, still annoyed that someone thought something like that would even be considered funny.
How the hell just writes a tiny Hi on a whole sheet of paper. Its such a fucking waste! It was irritating him more than anything.
That's why when he got a second letter this morning, also slid underneath his door, he just threw it on his bed to be dealt with later. He didn’t need to get any more pissed off about something before going to school and getting pissed off even more. No, that can wait till after he got his homework done.
And it did wait. During the day he completely forgot about the existence of the letter. Going to classes, almost blowing Dekus face off in training, shouting at the group that seemed to be stuck to his thighs, going to more classes. Completely normal.
But when he got home and locked himself in his room to do homework and calm down, he saw the letter on his bed and immediately became pissed again.
He marched on over to it and picked it, opening it in the same fashion he did yesterday and again, the letter managed to come out unscathed.
He opened the paper, preparing to see another waste of paper. Unfortunately the universe was granting his wishes, but not to the extent he was thinking.
This time, there was a sentence, a sentence that made his heart stop for a second.
Who the hell is this? Why are they talking about his skin? How do they know anything about his skin?
Subconsciously his eyes darted around him. Everything looked the exact same. He looked behind him, no one was there. But there was a nagging feeling in the middle of his back, like someone was staring there no matter where he turned.
His eyes glided toward the balcony. The curtain were wide open. But they were facing the 1-B building. No one could be watching him…
The curtains were closed in a matter of seconds.
The letters kept coming. Every day they got creepier. Complimenting a feature about him and details this person would only know if they got close to him.
He was losing sleep. His eight hour nights shortening rapidly to only around four hours and it wasn't consecutive.
Yesterday he became so sick of it he grabbed the five letters he had received, first still burnt in his trash can, and stomped down to the lounge room, confronting them of the letters asking whoever it was that was sending them to step the fuck up.
No one had any idea what he was talking about.
He attacked all the girls first, not physically no, but yelling at them to confess who done it. No dude in their class would have this good of handwriting other than that belly button laser guy.
But he had no idea later, saying Bakugou was not exactly his type, which he got a yelling for as well.
Todays letter… wasnt any better than the last.
"This is almost as much fun as watching you sleep."
He held the latter in his hand, not noticing the grip slowly getting tighter and tighter, and suddenly the ends were crinkled and charred, the only thing left was a single word.
Bakugou finally cracked and told the teachers about the letters. To say they overreacted was,,, actually just about right.
There were now teachers stationed on top of the buildings, around the perimeter, and on Bakugous floor.
He hated to admit it but having a few pro heroes there eased his edge a little. A felt safer. Safer than he had in the last two weeks.
But unfortunately, that wasnt enough.
For in the middle of the night, to his absolute horror, the rustling of paper was heard across his room.
His body went cold. Eyes wide as all hell. He used his feet to curl all his blanket away from the edges of his bed and under his legs and over his body.
'Please,' his mind pleaded. 'Please fucking tell me thats not another letter.'
And to his absolute horror, when he sat up, just a little bit… there, visible in the light shining under the crack of his door, was a letter, with the same red heart and perfect cursive handwriting that spelled out his name.
"Please dont scream, they'll hear you"
Its been a few days since hes gone out of his room. The pros thought hed feel safer in his room where they could keep an eye on him but in reality.
Bakugou didnt feel safe at all.
Everywhere he went his anxiety told him someone was there. With beady eyes that went unblinking just… staring at him. Like he was a slab of meat for a hungry starving lion.
But he wasnt allowed to complain, even though he did, and was expected to remain still.
He didn't want to wait. He didn't want to be here anymore.
He was behind on his classes, but he couldn't focus long enough on the work to get it done anyway.
He had nothing else to distract him. Hes read through all his books, played all his games, watched all his movies. There was nothing else to do other than wait like a sitting duck.
So what the hell was he supposed to do?
And while he had his door shut, he finally broke down, tears streaming down his face and fear coursing through his veins as he knew, by the sound of paper sliding under his door, that he wasnt safe anywhere anymore.
"Dont struggle, I hate when they struggle"
October 31st. Halloween Night
Halloween. Bakugou hated Halloween.
He hated Halloween. He hated being scared. Scared all the time.
He couldnt handle the sound of paper anymore. Not the sound of it wrinkling, folding, unfolding, ripping, he hated paper.
Wrappers, notebook, printer.
And now… he can't even handle unwrapping his own candy.
And has another letter slid under his door, now in direct daylight, and got up and looked at it.
The cursive was now just scratches. The heart too dark to be artificial.
He opened it, slipping the paper out and reading the note. One word. Tiny in the middle of the paper, resembling the first ever note he got. One word.
However, this time, when he turned the note over, he found something else. Another word- no, a sentence.
'Till next year… Bakugou Katsuki.'
And just like that, his body ran cold, and his vision went dark.
