In their first poetry class, Deku unloads emotional trauma & reflects on Kacchan's disappearance
Kacchan is as mysterious as ever
Deku goes crying to someone else about it...
Notes:
HAPPY NATIONAL YAOI DAY!!! Let's celebrate with bkdk!
Yes one of my nails got torn off but that didn't stop me from finishing this chapter!!
Deku's song
Pressure by Paramore
Kacchan's song
Happy reading!! :D
Today was a day that was equal parts excitement and dread for Izuku, because it was finally time for his most anticipated class, Creative Poetry. The dread of course was attributed to Katsuki, who for whatever god awful reason decided to minor in English. The small class size and intimacy of these creative writing courses usually delighted Izuku, but the thought of Katsuki infiltrating such a place was harrowing.
Throwing his head into the sky, Izuku admired the passing grey clouds as Pressure by Paramore finished playing in his headphones. He inhaled the fresh, woodsy air and tried to ground himself before entering the classroom.
As Izuku suspected, the class was small. Twenty desks were arranged in a circle in the cramped room and fourteen students were already seated next to one another, chatting away. Izuku took the next open seat and placed his materials on his desk, observing that Katsuki wasn't here yet.
"Good evening students, I'm Professor Yagi, but you can call me Toshinori," Toshinori announced himself to the class casually as he wrote his name on the chalkboard.
Toshinori had unruly blonde hair, tired blue eyes, and a frankly decrepit looking body. He bore a basic white button up and green cargo pants, not exactly resembling a typical professor, but many of the professors at Sandwash were laid-back, free of unnecessary flairs.
"I'm not going to go over the syllabus word for word, I expect you all read it already, and if you have questions about it, you can ask me after class, or email me."
Just then, Katsuki walked in, skateboard in hand, black backpack slung over one shoulder with a blank look on his face. He surveyed the room, noted the first empty seat near him was next to Izuku, and turned to sit elsewhere, until he was stopped by Toshinori.
"Young man," Toshinori's voice stopped Katsuki in his tracks, "please have a seat next to?" He gestured for Izuku to say his name.
"Izuku," Izuku answered, and wondered if the universe had a twisted sense of humor.
"Izuku," Toshinori smiled. "I won't let students sit alone in the circle. Everyone must be close together for partner activities and sharing purposes."
Katsuki begrudgingly obeyed Toshinori and sat next to Izuku. Eyes on his desk, he removed his headphones and wrapped its cord a little too tightly around his iPod before setting it aside. He was wearing a System of a Down band shirt with baggy black jeans. Izuku remembered when they listened to their album Toxicity together in Katsuki's childhood bedroom, just the two of them on Katsuki's bed, listening to his boombox reverberate the walls with music.
Why does everything carry his memory?
"I know some of you have already, but please introduce yourself to your neighbors and tell them one your favorite things about poetry."
Izuku immediately turned to his left where Katsuki wasn't, but he was met with the back of his neighbor, who clearly already knew the classmate next to her, as they were talking excitedly about an upcoming party. With a sigh, Izuku turned to his right and found Katsuki, thumbing the edge of his notebook.
"Hi, I'm Izuku Midoriya," Izuku said dryly.
Katsuki looked at Izuku from the corner of his eye.
"Sarcastic humor doesn't suit you," Katsuki muttered, splaying his silver-ringed hand across the blank page of his notebook.
"Why are you in this class, Bakugou?" Izuku asked, already tired.
"That wasn't the ques—"
"I know," Izuku went on, "but could you answer it anyway?"
At first Katsuki said nothing, and Izuku was about to start drawing in his notebook margins until Katsuki finally broke his silence.
"Music."
"Music?"
"Yeah."
Izuku blinked.
"Can you elaborate?"
Katsuki poked his lip ring with his tongue, eyes still on his desk.
"They're the same to me," Katsuki explained, "music and poetry. When you read a song, it sounds like a poem. When you read a poem, it sounds like a song. Basically, a poem just needs some sound, and it becomes music." Katsuki's cheeks were dusted pink as he continued. "So yeah. It sounds dumb as shit when I say it out loud like that. But there you go. Are you happy now?"
Izuku marveled at the man before him. How did he make something so simple sound so profound? It's not like Katsuki was the first person to make this connection, no, Izuku was more intrigued that Katsuki made that emotional connection within himself. Music was always a constant in both of their lives. Izuku couldn't conjure a memory where Katsuki wasn't wearing headphones or blasting music on his boombox or in any given situation. Now that he thought about it, they were both always analyzing the lyrics of songs together. Or used to, of course.
"Oh," Izuku managed as he tried to quell his brewing emotions.
Katsuki raised his pierced brow.
"Sorry," Izuku apologized before Katsuki got heated. "I wasn't actually expecting you to answer."
"Okay," Katsuki snorted.
"It makes sense though," Izuku continued, "you're always listening to music. You know which bands and singers will make it big," a half smile tugged on Izuku's lips. "We would…always listen together. And we would read the lyrics together too."
"you remember," Izuku said softly, searching Katsuki's eyes, "right?"
Katsuki stared back, his body tensed, and his expression became indecipherable.
"It's your turn to answer the question, nerd," Katsuki diverted.
Ouch.
Izuku wasn't sure what he was expecting. Did he really think Katsuki would open up or even acknowledge their past relationship? Why does he keep trying to reach someone that doesn't want to be reached? Isn't the definition of insanity, doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results?
Tears pricked the back of Izuku's eyes, but they did not breach the surface.
"One of my favorite things about poetry," Izuku began, "is that it allows you to tell the truth in fiction."
Katsuki continued to gaze at Izuku, who was now staring at his hands as he spoke.
"I can express my emotions and life without being direct, without naming names, without completely exposing myself," Izuku clarified. "I can relinquish my subconscious and human experiences onto paper."
A charged silence energized between them.
"Deku…" Katsuki trailed off, his body turned toward Izuku's.
But Izuku did not look up. The blue lines of his notebook blurred in his vision.
"I—"
"Alright, that's enough chit chat," Toshinori declared, "now it's time to move on to your first writing exercise. Today's class will end early, after this assignment. You will complete this exercise at the beginning of every class for the entire semester. The exercise is as follows: write freely for twenty minutes straight. No pausing, no thinking, no judging, just writing in a flow state. Even if you're just writing, 'I don't know what to write right now. This is stupid' or you're writing the same line over and over again until a new one comes. That all counts, and eventually other stuff will come out. This is stream of consciousness writing, and it is integral not only to creative writing, but to understanding yourself better."
Izuku picked up his pencil and dated the page, grateful for the task.
Katsuki slowly turned back in his seat and picked up his own pencil.
My name is Izuku Midoriya and I am in Creative Poetry taught by Professor Yagi, but he told us to call him Toshinori. I am a junior at Sandwash University and this is my first semester. I write in my diary sometimes but not consistently, and as of late, I haven't touched it all. I'm not sure why that is…well…maybe I do…this is kind of hard. I've never truly just written down every single thought without stopping. I mean, I ramble out-loud a lot without stopping, so, this shouldn't be that different. I should be good at this. Well, maybe this isn't something to be neccessarily good at. Oh god, I don't think I spelled "neccessarily" right. I guess it doesn't matter. Anyway, I'm living on campus in the transfer/upperclassmen dorms thanks to my scholarships and…I have a roommate…
Izuku's hand stilled and glanced at the roommate in question.
Katsuki was paralyzed. His eyes were wide, unblinking and his pencil hovered over a completely blank page.
Of course he can't think of anything to say, Izuku thought to himself, almost pitying the man.
Toshinori noticed Katsuki's struggle, bent down to his eye level, and whispered something Izuku couldn't hear in his ear. Whatever Toshinori said caused Katsuki to tense up, but his pencil started moving, albeit slowly, but he was still writing nonetheless.
…my roommate is Katsuki Bakugou…Kacchan. Although, I don't call him Kacchan anymore. It hurts to call him Bakugou. It doesn't feel right. But, it has to feel right. Because he isn't Kacchan anymore. He doesn't want to be. He told me not to call him that anymore. But, he still calls me Deku, although I guess it's always been more of an insult anyway. Embarrassingly enough, I grew to like it, he was the only one that called me that, and that made me feel special. Maybe I really just am delusional after all…uh…it really is hard to write without pausing, and I did pause to check if Ka Bakugou was writing or not. His page was blank until Toshinori whispered something to him, and now he's writing.
I can't lie, I am dying to know what on earth he is writing and what Toshinori said to him. Does he even have a stream of consciousness? I feel like he starts and stops many angry, volatile, strange thoughts in his head because if he thinks for too long, he'll explode, or worse, actually feel something.
Bakugou…he's been so mean to me. He keeps saying he can't stand to be around me yet he always seems to be around. Not as a comforting presence of course, but as an avoidant, explosive menace. At best he's sarcastic and snarky, at worst he's explosively angry, cruel, and standoffish. He won't explain himself at all. He's been gone for literal years and ghosted me and everyone. I mean, I called him probably over a thousand times. Shamelessly. After graduation, I started working at my mom's bookshop to save money for college, and he started at Sandwash University.
Everyone else was in college too, and I still saw everyone for parties, and Ochako of course but…it wasn't the same. Everyone else was progressing and I was stuck, poor and working, waiting for my opportunity. .. I told everyone I was okay but I wasn't. I was happy for them but not happy for myself.
Bakugou and I were hanging out a lot…and then he threw that Halloween party…the one that…that changed everything…and then he dropped out of college and fell off the face of the earth.
I was so lonely. So, so lonely. But you…Bakugou…if you were there, if you didn't leave…
Wet stains materialized on Izuku's paper and he realized he was crying, soundlessly. He exhaled a breath he didn't realize he was holding and pulled the collar of his t-shirt over his nose to try and hide his face. He felt a pair of eyes on him but he didn't dare check to see who it was.
I went to your house the day after that Halloween party, to apologize for how I reacted…for everything. But you weren't there. Kirishima and I thought you went for a drive, to clear your head. But then…you didn't return anyone's texts or calls. No one knew where you were. I went back to your house the next day, and your mom assumed you were avoiding responsibility, off doing something stupid. She told me your car got towed from the Z Lounge bar. Did you really use that stupid fake ID to go drinking at a bar?! Why? Did you really go there because of what happened?
Your mom was certain you were fine. I wanted that to be true, but, something just felt wrong. I was starting to worry something awful happened to you…
That's when I decided I was going to fill out a missing persons report. You disappeared not long after…not long after one hundred people vanished from our town…without a trace. The One Hundred Lives Lost case…I was terrified you were taken too. I found myself at your parents' house again. I wanted to check in with them one more time before filling out the report.
They said you came by, packed a bag, and left. Your mom said you weren't their son anymore. She told me not to file the missing persons report. She told me you weren't missing, you just wanted to leave everyone, start new. I refused to believe it. Why would you want to leave that badly? I asked her where you went, and she said she had no idea, that you were an adult, so she couldn't legally force you to do anything…I know your mom cares about the family name and reputation way too much—and we both know your dad is under her thumb—did that pressure get to you? But you…you were already starting fresh, in college…you had your whole life ahead of you…it just didn't make any sense.
I even checked public court records and prison records to see if you got arrested or something. But you were nowhere. A ghost.
More tears stained his letters as he flipped the page.
You betrayed me. You left without saying goodbye. Without saying anything. You had so many chances to answer my calls all those years. To come back. To explain yourself. I left you voicemails until your inbox was full. When your inbox would open again, I realized you must have listened to my voicemails. Either that or you just deleted them without listening to them first. It gave me stupid hope anyway. So I kept leaving voicemails. It was mostly me begging you to call me back and asking where you were and if you were okay. Sometimes I'd give you updates on my life. I know I left you nasty voicemails too. I was angry. I was hurt. I would be crying a lot too sometimes. It felt more like unfolding into a void than anything else.
And the craziest part about all of this is that I want to forgive you. So badly. But you won't let me. I am understanding to a fault—at least that's what Ochako says—but I can't think of anyone I want to understand more. I thought I did understand you. More than anyone. I think that's why I feel so stupid. Why I feel so ashamed. I ask you over and over again and embarrass myself over and over again each time I ask. And I can't seem to stop asking. But…I cared way more than you ever did about me. That's the only explanation.
Now, you refuse to tell me anything. Anything at all. If you would just tell me what happened, what you went through, I would be there for you. Even though…even though you weren't there for me. When you left. I had to tell myself you left for a good reason, that you would never abandon me like this otherwise. And if that's not true, if that's not true…then you left for no reason at all, ignored me for no reason at all…then that would mean that you never cared about me. You never cared about me..you..
Izuku dug his nail into his pencil and felt the soft wood crease beneath him. He was biting down so hard on his cheek he tasted blood, and he felt like he might vomit. But he persisted anyway.
No. I'm not going to let you embarrass me on the first day of class. I'm not going to fall apart and give up because of you, I managed for years just fine without you and I made it here all on my own. Even if I have to deal with you in three classes, even if I have to room with you, I will overcome this. I will tolerate you. I can care like any other human cares about another human, but I can't trust you. I don't trust you. You broke that. You ruined that. You threw everything away. And now you show up, bigger, faster, stronger, grungier, pierced.
Whatever. You must not have gone through anything too bad then, if you've improved in every way….on the outside anyway. But you're different now. You're not a morning person anymore. I never see you eat. I never see you drink water. You don't even sweat anymore. You're somehow still faster than me. And I've gotten faster and stronger in your absence. In class, you didn't even rub it in my face that you were way faster than me. Since when were you not an overly competitive sore winner? Since when? I mean, that's really, really strange Bakugou…
Very strange indeed.
Izuku stole another glance at Katsuki. The mysterious blond was focused on his paper, writing more than Izuku considered him capable of doing. It was obviously one thing for his appearance to change, but, who he was? At his fundamental core?
You've changed in bizarre ways. I think you're hiding more than just your past. Or your past followed you. I'm not sure what's up with you, but I'm going to figure it out. I knew you best at one point, and I'm going to figure you out based on that…unless…I really shouldn't. Would that be healthy? After all, you said you can't be around me, yet you're everywhere, but also nowhere all at once.
What…what am I doing? I'm all over the place. I should stop writing about this. About you. But you were gone for so long and it's not even been a week since you've been back so I think I have every right to think, write, and talk about you, it, the situation all I want. I don't even know who I'm arguing with. Myself, I guess. Dammit. I'm supposed to be focusing on myself, my studies, my future, my friends…but, I can do it all. I have to. I have to figure you out, or I will drive myself crazy.
Ochako has already said you've made me crazy. Maybe she's right, but I don't think it's surprising considering…everything. I had a good conversation with her the other day, until you interrupted it. You really should've seen your face when you found out we were both gay. If I wasn't so angry I probably would've laughed. I…I can't believe you're gay, Bakugou. I was just as surprised as you were when you found out I was.
I mean, I guess you didn't date any girls in school, even though a lot of girls thought you were cute, until, well, you talked to them. You weren't exactly receptive to their flirtations. That's a nice way of putting it. I just thought you were really picky and too dense to date anyone. Maybe I was partially correct. I don't know. I wish we could talk about it more. A lot of our friend group is gay, but, talking about it with you would be…nice. But that will never happen. So I should stop wishing for it. Besides, I have Shouto…or, well…Ochako heard that he talks about me a lot. He is gorgeous, I have a hard time looking at him sometimes because I'm afraid I'll stumble over my words. He's so kind, patient, and gentle…unlike
"Alright, that's twenty minutes. Goes by faster than you think, doesn't it?" Toshinori walked around his circle of students. "You will get points for completing these in class. But, don't worry, I won't ever be reading these. This writing is personal to you and for you only, unless you decide to share with someone."
Izuku closed his notebook with a shaky hand. Toshinori was still speaking but Izuku only heard ringing in his ears as he desperately tried to bring himself to the present and erase from his mind everything he wrote about. But that was impossible. He opened Pandora's Box and he couldn't lock it back up. Putting everything on paper made everything real. Evidence. Evidence of all the lies, betrayals, mysteries, sadness, everything.
Izuku shot up out of his seat, ignoring everyone's stares, and let his legs carry him to the door. He made the mistake of taking one look back at Katsuki, who was watching him intently. Tears sprang in his forest eyes.
Without a word, Izuku fled the classroom, and when he finally crossed the threshold of the building, he allowed himself to cry.
☽ ☾
Shouto opened the door on Izuku’s first knock.
“Shouto,” Izuku whined pathetically, globs of ugly tears poured down his face.
Shouto’s mismatched eyes grew wide and he hurriedly ushered Izuku inside his single dorm room.
Izuku shamelessly crashed into Shouto, fisting his t-shirt in his hands as he sobbed into the tall man’s chest. He was delirious, unable to come to his senses or ask permission.
But none was needed. Shouto took him in, flush against his chest, and wrapped his arms around him tightly.
Izuku’s sobs descended into a series of hiccups and sniffles. Shouto rubbed large, long circles on his back, and cradled Izuku’s head delicately.
Unclenching Shouto’s now sodden shirt, Izuku gazed up at him helplessly, his bangs marring his freckled face.
“Let’s sit down,” Shouto offered, guiding Izuku to the couch across the room.
Once Izuku was sitting, Shouto grabbed the tissue box on his desk, handed Izuku a neatly folded tissue paper, and gingerly sat next to him.
“I’m so embarrassed,” Izuku managed, eyes flicking to Shouto before looking down at his lap.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” Shouto affirmed, taking Izuku’s free hand in both of his.
Izuku’s heart skipped a beat at the soft touch.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Shouto prompted gently.
“Um,” Izuku began, still unable to meet Shouto’s eyes, “it’s…it’s about Bakugou. I know, I’m like a broken record, I thought I was done talking about him but now that he’s back I don’t know I just feel so crazy and—“
“It’s okay, Izuku. You don’t have to explain that. Just tell me what happened.”
Izuku took a deep breath and tried again.
“All these memories just keep bubbling up. He will do or say something that reminds me of our past, of our…friendship, and I’ll get happy at first, sometimes I’ll be fine, but other times I get so overwhelmed, like my heart is going to swallow me whole,” he wiped his nose with a tissue and set it aside. “And if he would only just talk to me, tell me why he left, why he didn’t return my calls, why everything.”
Shouto was silent, processing everything Izuku said.
“I’m really sorry Izuku. If I had any control over the rooming I would…” he shook his head, “anyway, Bakugou is in the wrong. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that, but you did nothing wrong Izuku, not then, not now.”
"Thank you," Izuku sighed. Although, he wasn't sure if he agreed. "He's just changed so much. In some ways he's exactly the same, but in others, it's like…it's like he's a different person. And we used to hang out all the time. Until, well. I just—ugh! I'm all over the place. We did this stream of consciousness writing exercise in poetry class, and I was letting everything out, you know? And writing everything down made it concrete, how…different everything is."
"I'm sorry, Izuku," Shouto stroked the back of Izuku's hand with his thumb. "I know you have a long history with Bakugou. His return is a lot for everyone, but especially for you, and Kirishima," Shouto pursed his lips in thought. "He was actually just talking to me about Bakugou. He's upset too, he just doesn't show all his cards like you do."
"I'm not so great at keeping my composure," Izuku admitted with a blush.
"Izuku," Shouto dipped his head toward him, "you're doing just fine. It's not good to hide your emotions. I think it's incredible that you don't. I only mentioned Kirishima to validate your feelings about Bakugou."
Izuku gave Shouto a wobbly smile. “Thank you Shouto, you always know what to say.”
“I really don’t, I’m quite socially awkward,” Shouto laughed lightly. “But I've known you for a long time too. You’re kind and easy to talk to. You’re a good person, Izuku.”
Izuku’s heart fluttered in his chest. He gazed at Shouto’s gorgeous face and his alluring eyes, one stormy grey, one turquoise blue.
His lips.
“Izuku, you’re staring.”
“Yeah…”
Shouto’s grip on Izuku’s hand tightened.
Izuku's lips parted.
A loud pounding on the door interrupted them.
Izuku jumped. His head knocked hard against Shouto’s jaw, causing Shouto to bite down roughly on his tongue.
Mortification engulfed Izuku when he saw Shouto’s tongue was bleeding. Shouto was shocked, his tongue slightly sticking out, blood dripping down, his eyes still on Izuku.
“Eeeuaghh!” Izuku screamed and scampered to the door, swinging it open wildly to a very confused student.
He pushed past them ungracefully, nearly tripping over his shoelaces as he barreled across the common room to his dorm.
By the grace of the universe, Katsuki was not in the room. Izuku made a beeline for his pillow and screamed into it.
Ochako answered on the first ring.
“Izuku! What’s up?”
“Ochako, I’m such a loser,” Izuku crushed his flip phone against his ear and mouth as he spoke.
“Oh god, what happened?”
“I almost kissed Shouto.”
Izuku yanked his phone away from his ear as Ochako cheered triumphantly.
“Why are you celebrating?! I said almost.”
“Yeah, but that means you’ll get it next time!”
“But Ochako,” Izuku moaned, “I came to his room sobbing about Bakugou. He held me as a I cried, I covered his shirt in snot—“
“—he held you as you cried?”
“I feel like you’re focusing on the wrong thing.”
“Oh, I’m not. I am sorry about Bakugou, but,” Ochako paused, “he held you as you cried?”
“Yeah,” Izuku blushed, “he rubbed my back and held my head.”
“Um, Izuku! That’s pretty intimate.”
“He said really nice things about me, and we locked eyes, and we were about to kiss but then—“
“—but then whaaat?” Ochako squealed impatiently.
“A student knocked on the door. I jumped because I’m, erm, jumpy, and I accidentally headbutt Shouto’s jaw and made him bite his tongue. And he started bleeding.”
“Ohhh…” Ochako drawled out.
“Right. So then I screamed and ran away. Like a loser.”
There was a beat of silence before Ochako busted up laughing.
“Freaking Zuku. You’re such a hot mess.”
“Thanks for making me feel better,” Izuku pouted.
“Relax Izuku. You’re a hot mess, emphasis on hot. Sure this was extremely embarrassing, but it’s also funny, and endearing. You left Shouto wanting more. Now he knows you want to kiss him.”
“Now he knows I want to kiss him…"
“Don’t panic, I can feel your panic through the phone. You’ll have no time to avoid him anyway. The party’s tomorrow night.”
“And Bakugou’s going too.”
“Don’t worry about him. It’ll be fine. There will be plenty of alcohol.”
“Will you pregame with me in my dorm?”
“Duh. Okay, I’ll be there tomorrow a half hour before the party then. With a bottle of vodka.”
“You’re the best, Ochako.”
“I knooowww,” she sing-songed before hanging up.
Izuku closed his phone, collapsed onto his bed, and hit REM upon impact.
Last piece that I made for the dkbk event on x, this time for Succulynt 's fic Mirrored and Reversed that was inspired by slay the princess tho you don't need to know anything about the game to read this ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )
izuku has such a terrible gag reflex. going down on katsuki’s above-average self no laughing matter.
ohh he’s gagging and hacking and lurching every time the tip brushes over the back of his tongue. tears are always flowing too, nose running and for fucks sake, katsuki isn’t even halfway in! “how are you still so shit at this?” izuku’s boyfriend always asks him, but izuku never feels offended. he’s a self aware man—he knows this is a terrible performance.
“you’re too big.” izuku coughs up some drool, wiping wet lips with the back of his hand. there is spit everywhere, always.
katsuki clicks his tongue. “you’re bigger. and i take you balls deep everytime.”
“yeah, well…” he flushes at the psuedo-compliment. “kacchan is good at everything.”
“hah! damn right i am. now c’mere.”
izuku sits back up high on his knees, bracing his throat for more abuse only to have his hands shooed away. “nah,” the blonde says. one hand tugs izuku’s hair, dragging him in close so his face sits mere inches away from kacchan’s dick. the other begins to stroke himself, sufficient and twisting at the wrist. “i’ll finish myself off. gotta do everything my-fucking-self—” he groans, “lucky you got a cute face.”
like majority of izuku’s blowjob efforts, it ends with jizz splattering across his nose bridge :p
more illustrations ralated to the dkbk fantasy au that were made for a dkbk event on x, if you're interested you can find the fic here, also the author is bakuisnumberone on x („• ֊ •„)੭
This is an illustration that I made in collaboration with bakuisnumberone for his dkbk fantasy au, if anyone is interested in reading the fic heres the link.
this fic and art were part of a dkbk event on x so if you'd like to read more dkbk fanfics you could look here.
