chuu

It had been a week already and you hadn’t told anything to your parents of your altercation with your brother - where he insulted you, got violent, and locked you in his room to leave you unconscious until he came back after collecting himself.

Living with him proved to be a challenge, now that you couldn’t stay in one space with him without expecting the worst. You’d flinch whenever he would move his arm or simply do so much as speak to address you. And when he did, when he’d call you with that rough voice you usually wouldn’t mind, you’d quiver like you were just yelled at even though the effort of keeping his volume to a minimum was strikingly obvious.

The actual yelling came when he grew irritated with how you treated him like he were some abuser. You only wished he understood why. He tended to be more violent with you, more verbally abusive, like he didn’t regret smacking you on the face with nearly all his strength accumulated from hero training. 

Then there were times when he was weird, overly affectionate - the back-to-normal Katsuki in which he took pride of the title as big brother. It made you question if the incident really did happen in the first place. Throughout the course of the week, whenever he was at home, he’d sit down beside you and teach you the topics in class you were apparently struggling with. There were times he would bring home a gallon of [favorite flavor] ice cream, telling you to get greedy with it under the ruse that it’d be a waste if you didn’t.

It scared you how you’d view his affectionate side as odd, and his abusive one as normal. Even so, after all that, he still continued to micromanage you. This time, you were too afraid to do anything about it.

Your breath hitched the moment you heard the main door open. Katsuki muttered a quick “I’m home” before entering farther inside the house. From your place against the kitchen counter, you breath slowed down abnormally as you guessed he was searching for you in the living room.

He was coming near; you couldn’t see, couldn’t hear but you could tell, because never had anyone that bigger of a presence than your brother. He emerged from the kitchen entrance, face relaxing slightly when his eyes met yours. 

“Why didn’t you come to greet me?” He asked sternly.

Weird. You never really greeted him everyday as if it were a routine, not especially after that incident. You chose to ignore him and focus on your phone with intent.

He advanced towards you and you tensed in an instant. You nearly whimpered when his hand - the dominant one that had hit you - lifted to hold you by the head and divert your attention to him entirely.

He ordered, “Say, ‘welcome back, oniichan.’”

“W-welcome back, oniichan.” You abruptly responded, gulping with glossy eyes. 

He chuckled, like he found you amusing. He let you go to rummage the fridge for a snack. “Still scared of me? Thought you were over that.”

You replied this time lest he’d do something about your ignorance. “I-I’m not.”

“Scared or over it?”

You wanted to hit him. “How could I get over it, Katsuki? You slapped me on the face. I bled.”

“It’s not like you had to be sent to the hospital.” He rolled his eyes, grabbing a plate from the counter. “You’re too sensitive. I didn’t do that shit just because I wanted to. You were being rude.”

And you weren’t being rude just because you wanted to. He was invading your privacy, of course, you had to do something about it. Besides, your rudeness shouldn’t have justified his violence. Although you guessed he wouldn’t care.

So you stayed silent, not finding reason to reason with him after figuring out he wouldn’t heed all of it. Still, his audacity made you tear up in frustration. You wanted to cry because you feared him when you shouldn’t have. He shouldn’t have hit you in the first place; shouldn’t have said hurtful things to you and controlled you just because he thought you were incapable of yourself.

You heard him sigh as you wiped the tears off your eyes with the sleeves of your pajamas. 

“It was just a one-time thing.” He said, sauntering over to you, making you tense. “ ‘s not gonna happen again. Promise.” He gave you a side hug, then slid the occupied plate to you. “Now, eat up.”

===

You knew it was wrong, and that there was something wrong with your brother the moment he hurt you like that. It was difficult to admit but it was doubtlessly a case of abuse, and you weren’t about to remain silent just because it was a one-time thing (hopefully). Dumb as you might be, you knew your worth.

So you decided to spill out the truth one movie night, because then Katsuki wouldn’t be capable of doing anything to you in front of your parents’ eyes.

“Mom, Katsuki hit me on the face.”

In the speed of lightning, all heads turned to you, Katsuki having the countenance of anger and betrayal. You didn’t betray him, he didn’t even have to trust you in the first place. Dad’s expression was starting to morph into something of discomfort.

“What the fuck? I didn’t.” Katsuki said somewhat steadily.

“You did!” You insisted, turning to mom. “Mom, I lied. It wasn’t the door that hit me. Katsuki told me to tell you that I got hit by the door.”

Still not saying anything about the matter, Mitsuki looked over to her son. The television became noise on the background.

“You’ll really believe that ungrateful brat over me?” Your brother scoffed and turned to you. “After everything I did for you, you go around telling mom shit I didn’t do? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“What is wrong with you?!” You retorted, voice whiny as you got desperate. You were tearing up, too. “I wouldn’t have told this if it didn’t happen, but it did!”

Masaru intervened, “Why did he hit you?”

“I didn’t fucking hit them!”

“Katsuki.”

He huffed, sinking down the couch with his arms crossed, glowering at you.

“I-I was mad at him, because he was invading my privacy. He wanted to confiscate my phone.” You explained between hiccups. “Then we began yelling at each other and he hit me with his hand.”

Katsuki was visibly seething on his seat. You feared you might have had been too presumptuous and that he wouldn’t actually hesitate to hit you again in front of your parents. He looked as if he were about to do that, scarlet eyes staring at you furiously, large hands gripping on the couch’s side like he was going to stand up to approach you. Veins prominent on his forearms as if he were restraining himself from doing shit to you that you wouldn’t want him to.

So, just in case he were to actually do that, you sprinted out of the living room and up the stairs to your bedroom, ignoring your parents’ calls for you to come back. They got the gist that you couldn’t stand being in the same space with your brother.

Mitsuki, aggravated, glared at her son. “Katsuki, what the hell really happened?”

“I didn’t do shit to them,” He replied almost immediately. “Didn’t tell them to lie to you, either. They’re just bored. Wanna stir some drama in their life.”

“Why did you want to confiscate their phone?” Masaru questioned.

Mom and dad would understand, right? You had online friends - how was that not dangerous? If he would change the narrative a bit, maybe it would make more sense.

“They were talking to strangers online, telling them to do weird shit.” Like asking you to join them in video games or something, therefore robbing him off of your time with him, but he wouldn’t say that. Their perspective has to be in his favor. “I was literally just trying to protect them.”

Mitsuki remained silent, evaluating the dilemma that was suddenly put to light. She said after a while, “I’m starting to think something’s wrong with them.”

“No shit.” Katsuki grunted.

“I meant like a condition in the mind, mentally disabled.” She said seriously. “We should probably bring them to a doctor.”

“Don’t.” Katsuki was quick to shut the idea down, alarm oddly evident in his tone of voice. “ ‘s not worth it.”

You weren’t going to a doctor, not if he can help it. He was more than capable of handling you if only you weren’t acting such a selfish, unappreciative brat all the damn time. You could depend entirely on him and he’d make your life so pristine and manageable.

“You really think they’re a mentally ill freak?” He added as to persuade them not to. “They’re just desperate for drama and attention. It’s just a phase. It’ll pass eventually.”

Mitsuki appeared to be considering his words, and Katsuki knew at once that he won the persuasion. Of course, mom would highly regard his point, because she always did. That had always been the sibling dynamic between the two of you; you were dumb, and he was the star child.

As the three gradually focused back into the movie, Masaru spoke with gravity in his tone. “Whatever made them say that you had hit them, stop it. I do not tolerate that kind of problem in this household.”

Katsuki, disgruntled, clicked his tongue in response. “Yeah, yeah. Not like anything even happened in the first place.”

===

That was an empty promise as he dragged you by the arm, away from the snacks you were eating on the kitchen counter that he told you were forbidden to eat because they were unhealthy.

You thought he was out, he was supposed to be out - he was on hero duty - what was he doing in the house?

You shouted his name in retaliation, heart racing in panic at the endless possibilities of what he could do to you now that your parents were currently out doing work, no one to save you in their absence. They were the only ones who were capable of reprimanding Katsuki for what he had done and making him promise not to do it again. Silly you, believing what he had said that it would only be a one time thing, this abuse. You shouldn’t have tolerated his action and should have been more insistent with your parents last night.

“You really think I'd let you go after the shit you pulled off last night?” He spat derisively, the tone of his voice quite matching his deranged smile. 

You swore the grip he had on your upper arm couldn’t get any tighter, but it did, and your bones begged for release as the rest of your arm felt cold in a flash.

“You- you said-” You heaved, hand frantically pulling at his clutch on you. Then you screamed, looking at him with wide, wronged eyes. “You said it was a one-time thing! You said it wouldn’t happen again! Katsuki!”

“Shut the fuck up!” He hauled you onto the sofa, air forced out of your lungs from the impact, earning a pained “ugh” from your mouth.

Katsuki seethed, “It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but you pissed me off. I have no choice but to put you back in your damn place.”

You didn’t want to know what he meant by that, but you guessed that either way, you were bound to find out. 

“If I grab you like this,” He aggressively grabbed you by the neck, just below your jaw. “You’ll tell mom and dad? Hm?”

“Katsuki, stop this-” You attempted to say but his grip only tightened, spurring you to panic and say things impulsively. You clawed on his skin. “I hate you! Fuck off! You’re the worst!”

“Wrong fucking answer.” He hissed, grip unfaltering. His long pointer finger reached to press on your cheek injury. “So, what? You’ll tell mom and dad?”

“K-Katsuki-”

“Don’t give me more reason to hurt you.”

This time, you couldn’t afford to hide your fear any longer. Tears welled up in your eyes as you stared at him in an amalgam of contempt, fear, and betrayal. Nevertheless, you prioritized your safety; you said through hiccups, “I-I won’t. I won’t tell mom and dad.”

He appeared to be satisfied with your answer, a conceited grin on his face as if he found your tears an entertainment. Just as you thought he was done, he raised an arm.

“And if I hit you like this-” his hand went down to smack you on your uninjured cheek and your mind was too slow to process what he was going to do, but your body, accustomed to his tendencies, moved autonomously - your eyes closed as you braced for the impact by reflex. 

The pain was absent too long for it to be deemed a registering feeling. When you opened your eyes, Katsuki’s hand was only centimeters away from your face. He looked at you, grin no longer present, evaluating your features.

“If I hit you like this,” He continued, voice low, “will you tell mom and dad?”

Whimpering, you shook your head no, fearing the worst of your tight situation. You were scared shitless.

“I know you won’t.” His gruff voice contrasted greatly with his soft tone. You only stared at him in confused agitation. “Because you love me. You love your big brother. And you know I love you, right? I only want the best for you. That’s why I’m doing this.”

Doing what? Inflicting violence on you? Gaslighting you?

“Com’ere.” You were brought close to him as he switched your places, his person now sitting on the soft cushion as yours was already seated on his lap. You remained still, terrified. “I never do anything without reason.” He began caressing your crown. “Just wanna make sure you’re safe.”

You knew he was wrong, that his actions justified not your safety but to keep you from telling your parents of his mistreatment to you. It would only get worse the longer you wouldn’t tell anyone.

Yet his embrace gave you a sense of belongingness and security you hadn’t felt in a long while; perhaps it was because you’d been deviating from him for so long. He was mean, sure, but it was hard to resist when you’d been abused (by the same person comforting you) for a period of time.

When you gradually hugged him back through your fits of sobs and whimpers, he knew he had won.