BRING ME, BRING me to you,

Bring me grime and gold

Underneath you, I lay bare,

But you squirm to and fro

And your screams are a song---

Rhythmic though flat,

And you know crucifixion

Even if the palms are intact

And I see myself in you,

Like a mirror unwrapped

And you've shed yourself for me,

Just by peering back.

Katsuki was fourteen when he overheard the stressed whispers and hisses of his parents in the dead of night.

They were pushing back and forth with a decision to send their son to live with Mitsuki's parents.

He was becoming uncontrollable and way too uncooperative. He was constantly in squabbles with other students, and the counseling he'd been sent to proved to be useless.

His parents understood that teens were absolutely dick wads and that Katsuki usually never caused a scene without being provoked first, but that didn't take away from the issue at hand.

It'd only be a while– a year or two, Mitsuki had argued. She was whipped into shape by her folks to this very day, and since Katsuki took after her brash personality, she figured they'd know how to handle him best. She trusted them with her son; they were her parents, after all.

But Masaru, Katsuki's father, was against the idea. It wasn't that he didn't trust his in-laws, it was the fact that ripping him away from the comfort of his parents and friends at a disastrous age like this could go sour... really fast.

Mitsuki huffed, mumbling that maybe he needed to be separated from his friends. For all they knew, they could've been negative influences fueling his already sour personality.

Katsuki wanted to burst into the room to inform his mother that he was the 'bad apple' in his friend group and that those idiots couldn't influence him to breathe if he was dying, but he refrained from doing so. For all he knew, jumping in could've made the situation worse.

They'd settled on an agreement, eventually. Katsuki was to go stay with his grandparents for two years, and within that time he'd get to breeze off the constant yelling he'd surrounded himself with at home and school.

That would help, right?

In the two weeks that followed, Mitsuki packed her son's belongings, preparing for the leave. Katsuki was obviously against going away for two fucking years, but he didn't have much of a say in the matter.

It was a Saturday morning.

The wind from the fan was flowing softly and the air was warm as Katsuki sat on the living room couch, decked out in a simple black hoodie, jeans, and converse as he waited for his grandparents to come to pick him up.

It was the first day of his summer vacation, and he'd hoped to spend it at home or even with his shitty friends, but his parents had insisted on shipping him off. That's how he saw it, anyway.

The doorbell rang.

"Come in, come in," Mitsuki yelled, rushing to the door and opening it.

Two elders entered. A man, a tall and intimidating figure with a permanent scowl etched into his aged features and hard, scarlet eyes, and a woman, who Katsuki could tell aged beautifully, with silvery hair tied back into a traditional low bun. She was about Katsuki's height, and her hazel eyes were warm and motherly.

"Hey mom, dad," Mitsuki bowed respectfully, and Katsuki grimaced at the formality. She smiled, wiping her damp hands on her apron. "I haven't seen you in some time now. How's it been?"

"It's been great." Her father bore a burning, scrutinizing gaze into Katsuki's face. "Where's your husband?"

"In the bath," Mitsuki quickly countered, and Katsuki felt as if the palpable tension could be sliced with a knife.

"Ah, I see," Mistuki's mother hummed, before turning her attention to Katsuki. "So this is the little weasel, huh? He's grown!"

Mitsuki laughed a little. "Yup, that's him. He's had a...number done on him for some time now. I'll be leaving him in your care if that's okay with you."

"Don't I get a say in this?" Katsuki gritted his teeth, making his grandparents squint at the tone.

"No." Mitsuki's tone was final.

"He's got a lot of mouth," his grandfather stated as if to challenge Mitsuki's control over her son.

Masaru entered the room, flinching at the sight of his not so beloved in-laws. "Hi," he said cheerfully, regardless of the odd atmosphere.

Both elders ignored his presence altogether. "We'll be off now. C'mon boy," Mistuki's mother said.

Katsuki clenched his fists before gathering his things, wordlessly obeying.

"We'll miss you, brat," Mitsuki said, ruffling her son's hair fondly. Katsuki folded his lips, uncharacteristically silent as he turned away.

Masaru sighed, feeling immensely helpless for not being able to give his son what he needed. He was a kid, and it already seemed like he'd aged five years. It was shameful, but all he could do now was hope that Mitsuki's parents would be able to help.

•

Katsuki was fifteen when he was raped.

The moment his grandfather had sent him off to conversion camp, he knew it'd be even more awful than his time spent with those ancient fucks.

But he'd never guessed that it'd be quite this awful. No one would.

He sat down at the altar of the church, his entire body slathered in bodily fluids and shame. Judith, his counselor, had advised him to go there after having her way with him, insisting that it was the right time to 'seek God's face'.

He could still feel the lingering burn of the Minister's eyes on him while he'd been robbed of his innocence and last bit of sanity. He could still feel the pressure of hands that sought to snap his neck into two. He could still taste the saltiness of his tears. He could still feel the rawness of his throat after having sobbed for the entirety of the experience.

Seek God's face, she said. Katsuki glared at the red glowing cross above him and he could feel how much god had hated him at that very moment.

So he sought God's face and spat— a thick ball of saliva slapped the edge of the cross. He dug his nails into his skin– his arms, his thighs, his chest– and scratched at the flesh there, raking the ruggedness against it until it was bleeding and raw.

He screamed. It was a scream that was so loud, so raw, so possessed, that it could wrinkle the sky and awaken the dead. His eyes were torn open, and burning tears slithered from the swollen skin there and raced toward his chin.

He begged, pleaded to be dead. He spread out his palms and hooked his fingers inward, begging to be put out of his misery.

Pain. Pain personified. Katsuki was a sack of flesh and pain.

Immediately counselors came running to the source, alarmed and shocked to see that Katsuki, resident trouble maker and homosexual in need of rehabilitation, had passed out, his limp body kissing the cold tiles below.

"He's troubled," one said, gripping the material of her nightgown in fright and concern. It was only eleven o'clock in the night, after all. "We need to consecrate him!" She shrieked.

Judith came forth, her stomach twisting at the sight before her. That fucking brat. She'd gone to this extent to rectify his homosexuality, but it only seemed that he'd regress. And now he'd made a scene. She couldn't allow him to speak on anything he had no say in.

"He's fine, sister Sabrina," she insisted, and her comment raised a few heads. She sighed. "I gave him some therapy, but it might've been a little harsher than intended. I'll carry him back to his room and speak to him when he wakes up."

A few of the counselors relaxed from the explanation, brushing off the incident as they stalked back to bed.

"Sister Judith," Sabrina whispered once most people were gone, "that reminds me. We really should dial back on the shock therapy. It might be doing more harm than good." She fiddled with her fingers a little, her chestnut gaze flitting over to Katsuki.

"Look at the boy's skin," she stressed. "We are beyond this. It is not the ancient days; we don't have to use those kinds of methods–"

"We've been rehabilitating homosexuals for years, sister," Judith hissed despite the pleasant look on her face. "We don't need to change now. Katsuki did that to himself. I would never physically harm the boy on purpose. Look at those scraping marks. He's clearly tormented."

Sabrina closed her mouth, her lips folding in protest, but she let it go. Judith was the head counselor, after all, and she'd been doing God's work for years.

Clearly she knew what she was doing.

•

Katsuki was sixteen when he returned to his parents.

He'd spent every holiday at the camp for the two years he was away from home.

It was then he learned that being handed off to someone was something he hated intensely. He'd been handed to his grandparents, who then handed him to psychotic, religious strangers, who tried to hand him over to a god he knew never cared nor existed.

But Katsuki wasn't a burden meant to be hauled off when he wasn't wanted. He wasn't a sacrifice for god's glory either.

At the camp, he was always told that god tested his children to keep them in shape and to give them a testimony. So that, in the end, he'd get the glory.

Katsuki didn't want tests. Life wasn't supposed to be a constant fucking struggle. He didn't want to survive. He wanted to live.

And to live, he'd take matters into his own fucking hands. There was no way he'd go through all of god's shitty testing, only for him get the credit for something he didn't help with.

If Katsuki was going to heal, it would be because he had the resolve to.

That's what he wanted to believe, anyway.

Meeting his parents again after all of his experiences was... exceptionally rough.

"Katsuki!" Masaru smiled brightly, resting a warm hand on his son's fluffy blond locks. "Woah, you've gotten taller. We missed you, bud."

"Did you really?"

"What do you mean? Of course we did," Masaru frowned, his chest tightening, panic manifesting. He'd been endlessly worried that Katsuki's grandparents were going to be too hard on him, and now it seemed that he was right to think so.

"You dropped me because you didn't want to deal with me," Katsuki hissed, slapping his father's hand away.

Sharp, bitter pain spiked in his stomach.

"That's not true and you know it," Mitsuki spoke up, her frown deepening. "Stop making assumptions about shit you have no clue about."

"I have no clue?" Katsuki piped up, his voice booming. "Yeah? Fuck you! Fuck the both of you!"

And without thinking, Mitsuki's hand flew, slapping Katsuki across the face, sending his head snapping in the opposite direction.

Her gaze was heavy, intimidating, and bloody. "Don't speak to us with that tone."

Katsuki's lip wobbled. The atmosphere stilled.

"I'll do," he whispered, "what I want."

"You haven't changed, have you?" Mitsuki barked, frustrated. "I thought you'd mature. But you? You don't have a single mature bone in your goddamn body."

"That's not how shit works, hag!" Katsuki reciprocated. "You can't just ship me off to live with fuckers I barely know and expect me to come back being the person you want me to be!"

"This isn't about who I want you to be, this is about your rotten attitude-"

Masaru placed a gentle hand on his wife's shoulder, giving her a look. Reluctantly, Mitsuki bit her tongue. Then, he turned his attention to his son.

"Katsuki," Masaru asked, his voice a whisper.

"Why are you so angry?"

_____

Katsuki was nineteen when he met Izuku Midoriya.

"I missed you."

Izuku wrapped his arms around Katsuki lovingly, breathing his scent in as they both backtracked into Izuku's room.

Katsuki sighed, petting Izuku's hair. "Yeah, it sucks not being around you too."

"How was your session today?"

"I..." Katsuki's mind traced off to the retelling of his past that'd happened.

"It was...boring."

"Sometimes, I'm still angry with them. My folks. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't be so fucked in the head. Sometimes, it feels like they gave me up to get raped," Katsuki sobbed, his head pounding and his face red from the humiliation of opening up.

"Katsuki," Ms. Nemuri muttered to herself, feeling an immense amount of sympathy from the pain that wafted off of her client.

"I won't pry," Izuku said, rubbing circles in Katsuki's back, "but I'm just a little worried. Are you wound up or something?"

Katsuki lowered his head, doing his best to ignore Deku's concern. He raked his nose up the expanse of his boyfriend's nape, breathing in his scent.

"Kacchan," Izuku said, feeling his breath catch in his throat, "What're you doing...?"

"Deku," Katsuki hummed, his nerves skyrocketing despite the calm lilt to his voice. His lips skimmed along Izuku's neck, licking and sucking the skin there. Izuku froze, a surprised gasp escaping him.

"Wait," he protested weakly, growing warm yet somewhat uncomfortable.

He almost wanted Katsuki to continue, but he couldn't ignore the ghost of another touch that lingered in the process. An unwanted touch. Toga's touch.

But clearly Katsuki needed a distraction after a long day. Izuku felt guilt and helplessness pull at his ribs, hating how fragile he felt despite wanting to be of help.

Izuku allowed the fondling and kisses to continue for a few minutes longer, writhing as Katsuki mindlessly undid his zipper.

That's where he drew the line.

"Kacchan, wait," he said, his face flushed and his hands shaking, "I'm not comfortable doing this."

"C'mon, Deku," Katsuki muttered, his eyes empty, his brow twitching even though he stopped. "What's your deal?"

"What's my deal?" Izuku repeated incredulously. He thought Katsuki would immediately understand. No, he knew he did. Did he not care regardless?

Katsuki's face fell, his eyes so dull with something that felt so tangible, yet so hard to grasp. Izuku's heart pinched from the sight.

"What? I'm fucking asking you," Katsuki frowned deeply, his eye twitching.

"I- I don't need to give you a reason anyway. It's my choice so respect it."

"Jesus Christ, Deku."

Izuku flinched at the tone. "What's with you? Are you seriously angry with me right now?"

"Deku-"

"Kacchan, don't lie to me," Izuku said softly, though there was a heaviness in his voice.

"Why are you so aggravated?"

"Katsuki."

"Why are you so angry?"

"Shut up!" Katsuki snapped.

"Kacchan...?"

"I hate this," Katsuki hissed, backing away as tears rolling down his reddened cheeks. His fists were clenched, and his entire body was shaking. Izuku blinked in surprise.

"All I want is to fucking be... be normal again," he gritted. "I wanna get high, spite assholes, and stick my dick in something." His body caved in as if he was collapsing in on himself. "I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me these days. I don't wanna fucking think about my shitty past. I don't know what this shit is and I hate it, I hate it so fucking much. All I want is a fucking getaway."

Izuku's lips wobbled, his chest tightening.

Katsuki raised his head, his vermillion eyes burning into Izuku's forest green.

"So why?!" He screamed, his body lurching forward with every syllable. "Why can't you give me that?!"

"Kacchan," Izuku whispered, his eyes stinging as he stretched his hand, "what's wrong-"

"Stop asking so many fucking questions, damn Deku! I don't want interrogation. I need sex, for fuck's sake!" Tears streamed down Katsuki's face, and he began to hiccup. "If you love me then give me what I want!"

"That's not right, Kacchan," Izuku tried to remain calm. "And you know that-"

"You think I know. You have the biggest hero complex of all time. Goddamn it, Deku, you're such a fucking know-it-all when you can't even understand what I need right now. I can go to Camie if I wanted to-"

"No, you wouldn't." Izuku smiled a little. He understood that Katsuki's threats and insults were empty; the result of being too attached to an unhealthy coping mechanism.

Izuku was not Camie. Therefore, he could not be the distraction that Katsuki was accustomed to having. Izuku was his partner, someone to help him pick up the pieces, and someone to love him when no one else did. Izuku knew enough to understand that Katsuki wasn't angry with him. He was angry with how every ugly part of him was being raked up constantly by the week. It could be an anxiety striking fiasco whenever he stepped into that office and sat for an hour.

Though he was still mentally reeling from the sexual push Katsuki had inconsiderately given him, Izuku pushed that aside for now.

If Katsuki wasn't stable, there was no way he could be. After all, Katsuki was his pillar.

Katsuki broke down into scattered sobs, and Izuku broke down too, tears filling his eyes and ache filling his chest at the sight of before him. He could feel it. He could feel how much Katsuki was torn, scattered, and angry.

He stepped forward, determined to comfort the mess of a man before him, and he wrapped his arms around him, resting his face against his chest lovingly. Katsuki caved in immediately, diving his face into Izuku's hair as his body was wracked by sobs.

"Hey," Izuku cooed, feeling Katsuki's tears dampen his forehead. He rubbed circles into the small of his back. "I already told you. You don't have to be stronger than you really are for me."

Tears flowed from his glassy emerald eyes as he sniffled.

"If anyone else leaves you, I'll be here. I swear. No matter what happens, I will always be here. There's a lot of ugly things in the world, but you're an exception, you know. So, we'll stick it out together and balance each other out," he whispered.

"Okay, Kacchan?"