It's impossible to tell when it started.
When he was younger, everything was fine. He was happy. An ungrateful fuck, but happy.
It seems so far away from him now. It's almost funny.
It's almost funny how everything he thought knew is a lie. A pretty illusion.
He thought that he was the best. He was on top. Everyone loved him. It was all so easy for him.
Things change as they say.
Everyday is another uphill battle.
Every training session reminds him how weak he is.
Every passing comment lodges itself into his heart.
Everything that was easy became another mountain to climb. Everything.
When did things start to go so wrong?
Why did things go so wrong?
There is no answer. It's impossible to pinpoint. No way to unfurl the truth.
It doesn't matter.
Nothing matters. Not anymore. Not for him.
That's why he doesn't care that his grades have slipped. That he can't make explosions like he used to. That his classmates fearful glances have turned into
His classmates noticed. The change. That he had stopped exploding at them.
He stopped trying to fight deku.
He stopped changing in the changing room.
He stopped wearing short sleeves.
He stopped taking care of his body.
They all had their suspicions, but none of them were sure enough to try to talk to him or Aizawa about it. People were still afraid of him enough to not do anything, especially without any proof.
He was standing on unstable ground, but he was safe.
That was until he slipped up. He hadn't meant to. Obviously. Not that it matters. The damage had already been dealt.
Peppermint happened to show up at the wrong place at the wrong time, and he saw. The cuts. The fucker didn't even give Bakugou a chance to try to explain.
Not that there was much he could say.
For a few days, nothing happened. Bakugou
hoped thought that maybe he forgot or was to scared to say something. Or, better yet, he simply didn't care.
Bakugou was wrong.
Of course. Nothing ever seemed to go his way anymore.
It took a little more than a week for Aizawa to tell Bakugou to meet him after school... at least he thinks it was a week.
It's hard to tell. Most of his days are a blur. But that doesn't matter.
Maybe if Bakugou cared, he would have snapped at him. Said no. Made up an excuse as to why he couldn't go.
But he didn't. So he said nothing and left. No anger, no yelling. Just silence.
He could feel Aizawa's stare burning a hole into the very depth of his being.
He didn't care.