@volatilehero // sc.

      It was never supposed to turn out like this.  It was a mistake on his part –––– usually calculating the other’s schedule right down to the slightest movement, Aizawa took his time in ensuring that their paths would never meet again. He figured it would be less painful this way ––– to be entirely abandoned, rather than have a father-figure be constantly reappearing and disappearing, refusing to leave and allow the wound to heal.

                   It would be easier for Bakugou to hate him,      rather than be constantly left questioning whether he was loved at all.

  But he’d made an error – and soon enough, after SO LONG, they were face-to-face.        Aizawa couldn’t hide the shock.

“–––i…”

        “––you weren’t meant to be here.”

   And in a way, he’d felt he’d finally began to let himself heal from the absence of his proclaimed father figure, finding the sting of abandonment slowly dulling itself down into a sharp ache as days went by without any contact. He still found himself tracing steps to land at Aizawa’s abandoned front door on days where things found themselves particularly bad or his thoughts too noisy, though he felt better --- or at least, more like his old self, anger no longer directed inward.    Though deviating from his normal route today, back to biological parents over a school break, had been a bad idea (though returning to them at all was a bad idea, judging from the way his limbs still ache, gait left uneven from a light limp).    Features flicker briefly between shock and recognition as he finds himself stood face to face with his dad teacher Eraserhead, brows raised as the teen stands stock-still, mouth ajar, before the expression closes itself off, face contorted as lips pull back, teeth bared and hackles raised.    Katsuki reacts like a cornered animal, tears blurring the edge of his vision as he wavers between taking a step forward, or one back.

   And, as he has many times before, he finds himself unsure whether to take in the kindness of such a normally stoic hero with surprise, discomfort, or something else.    It’s weird, as it always is, and he’s unsure what to do with himself, flinching when the hand settles on his head, despite the time he has to prepare for it. Eyes close tightly, shoulders drawing up, though he doesn’t snap or threaten Aizawa away. He simply takes the gesture with a confused twist of his features, unsure what to do with himself, and waits until the hand is pulled away before eyes open again.    The warmth of his tone isn’t unwelcome, though Katsuki doesn’t know what to make of it. He could brush it off as the guy just being nice --- just caring about his students --- if he hadn’t gone above and beyond for him. If he was like this with any of the blond’s classmates.    Hell, he could be, though the thought of Aizawa comforting anyone is still too strange of a notion for his imagination to conjure, even with him right here, smiling so kindly. Being so caring.    Acting like a father.

   Oh, and it’s with that pink sweater and his mother’s words that Katsuki finally falters, brow twitching as he recoils. 

   It’s so, so tempting, but ——

   “It’s too late, Izuku.”

   “This is who I am, now.”

“This is some trick, isn’t it? Well, haha, it’s not fucking funny.”

    ‘ are you concussed. did someone use a personality altering quirk on you. do i need to call your mother – ‘