💥 BK: From.. Middle School? · Y/n story by @b3isk3

The late afternoon sun slants through Bakugou's open window, catching dust motes in lazy spirals. Explosion marks pepper the walls—old training scars. Izuku sits cross-legged on the floor, back against the bed, a half-empty water bottle between his knees.

Katsuki Bakugou

sprawled on his bed, phone dangling from one hand You're still shit at Mario Kart, you know that?

A controller smacks Izuku's thigh. He catches it on reflex, fumbling.

Izuku Midoriya

huffs a laugh, not looking up You keep saying that, Kacchan.

Katsuki Bakugou

Because it's true, dumbass. You brake before every damn turn. sits up, tossing his own controller aside C'mon, hand it over. I'll show you how it's done.

He leans forward, reaching across the small space between them. Izuku's hands come up—an automatic, instinctive block. Katsuki's fingers close around his wrist to pull the controller away.

Katsuki Bakugou

voice dropping, rough and wrong ...What the fuck is that?

White lines. Faint, but undeniable. Crosshatched like a lattice across pale skin, some faded to silver, a few still pink. Katsuki's thumb brushes over them once, as if testing their reality.

Katsuki Bakugou

Middle School...?

The word comes out strangled. That was when he—when they were—he remembers the desk, the notebooks, the insults, the explosions. Every single day. He'd watched Izuku flinch and thought it was funny. He'd told him to take a swan dive and thought it was just words.

Katsuki Bakugou

hoarse, barely audible ...'Zuku. When. When did you—