It wasn't the first time this had happened. More than once Katsuki found himself wandering the dorms of UA to find a distraction from the static in his head. Late at night, after the subconscious part of his brain tortured him with dreams that would jolt him awake in a cold sweat and a burning in his stomach, he meandered around the building until the fog had lifted from his mind and he was able to sleep again. The pro heroes had urged to his parents after the sludge villian attack to take him to a therapist, as something like that happening to someone so young could very well have a lasting effect on a person's emotional stability, but it wasn't until after returning home from the League of Villian's base that they took up the suggestion.

He had started spacing out; one minute he would be completely normal and then a brush against his wrist or a hand on his neck would send him away, and then he was back in chains, unable to do anything but wait and hope the pros were coming to find him. Memories would hit him randomly; he would go to get something to snack on and end up staring blankly into the refridgerator for fifteen minutes. His mother had noticed it first; the way his shoulders would stiffen and his eyes would gloss over, it was clear that in his mind he wasn't there, in the present, he was somewhere else entirely. The therapy sessions in and of themselves weren't very productive -more often than not he would just sit on the couch with a gloomy look of distaste until the clock ran out- but knowing that there was a reason this was happening to him, and that he wasn't alone, reassured him.

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder," he had been told, "is something that happens to a person after experiencing a particular stressful or traumatizing event. A combat veteran, for example, might jump at the sound of a firework going off close by because of past experiences of being shot at. People who have been violently assaulted will flinch if you try to touch them without warning or consent. Stress, fear, and anxiety are all emotions we have to keep us alive; our body will always alert us to danger in any way it can. Sometimes after going through something dangerous your body will overcompensate, so the danger doesn't happen again."

The flashbacks, the goosebumps, the cold sweats, the way his heart would drop into his stomach whenever he saw a hand get just a little too close: it all made a lot more sense to him now, but that didn't stop how utterly fucking annoying it was. Honestly, emotions were such a nuisance sometimes. He didn't want to admit it, but his therapist had given him some really good fucking advice, and he had taken a lot of it into practice. He had started a routine; whenever he had dreams bad enough to wake him up, he would walk through the rooms of the dorms and ground himself. "Grounding," as it had been explained to him, was something he could do to bring his mind back into the present.

It sounded stupid at first, but sitting on the floor, feeling the cold tiles against his skin, and saying "You are at UA high, you're in the kitchen, and you're safe" really did help. The worse the dream was, the longer he wandered from room to room, sifting through memories of cooking with his classmates or studying or playing Smash Bros with Kirishima (the only one who still agreed to play with him). He used to see the "triggered" memes on the internet all the time and chuckle, how silly and fragile people must be to get so upset over something so small. But now he got it, how debilitating it could really be. One moment he would be in class, and the next minute he would be in that alley, fighting to keep that sickly smelling sludge from sliding into his mouth and down his throat. It was exhausting to keep up with. Tonight was no exception.

He had been dreaming about him again. That guy with the weird hands all over his body. The grip that had encased his nape without warning and pulled him away into a dark and unfamiliar territory, surrounded by people he was sure wanted him to suffer. When he woke he could still feel a burning on the back of his neck where his clammy hand had been. A solid five minutes of deep breathing had slowed his heart down enough to think clearly again, and soon he found himself taking the stairs down to the first floor, through the common room and into the kitchen. It wasn't the first time he had been out of bed and out of bounds at damn near three in the morning, but it was the first time he had caught someone else in the action, as well.

As he turned the corner into the kitchen, he saw one of his classmates slouched over the counter, his head resting on the granite, turned toward the small screen in his hand. He had left the kitchen lights dimmed, but Bakugo caught the green tint of the mass of hair covering his freckled face. Usually Katsuki's first reaction was to yell, it always was when Deku was concerned. But the last time they had been out of bounds together they had literally beaten the crap out of each other, and he discovered since then a lot of his anger towards Deku had deflated. He didn't feel the urge to take everything out on him anymore, at least, and he certainly did not have the energy to expel at the moment, so instead he settled for taking a seat next to him.

And Deku didn't even notice. He had been so wrapped up in whatever article he was reading that he didn't realize the seat next to him had been filled until Katsuki cleared his throat.

"Kacchan!" he exclaimed, raising both arms in alarm and shielding his face with the phone in his hand. "How long have you been there?" He said after the initial shock had worn off. "It's really late, why are you awake right now?" Katsuki scoffed. "Wouldn't you like to know?" He pulled each ankle up onto the stool and crossed his legs indian style, putting both elbows on the counter and lacing his fingers together. Deku smirked. "Do you think I would ask you if I didn't want to know?" He jeered. "Yes," Katsuki scoffed, "you're a nosy little fucker. Always sticking your head where it doesn't belong."

"I couldn't sleep. It's too quiet in my dorm room. I've been here for months now and I'm still not used to it." Deku looked down at his phone, clicked the lock button and set it on the counter next to him. "In our old neighborhood there were cars and trains and animals making noise at all hours, I guess living in the same place your whole life will mess with you. It's totally silent up here, it throws me off."

"It almost makes your dreams sound louder," Katsuki found himself responding before he could stop himself. "You met that Shigaraki guy up close and personal last year, didn't you?" Deku didn't do a very good job of hiding his surprise at this sudden outburst, but he answered truthfully. "Yeah, when the whole class got together at the mall that one time, he cornered me after everyone had split up. I was by myself. Stupid move on my part, honestly." They sat together in silence for a while, watching the clock on the microwave tick away the minutes.

"It's like, his hand is so cold it feels like it's burning you." Katsuki was staring at his hands, unable to look his classmate in the eye. He could feel his cheeks redden, but the floodgates had been opened. Either his therapist or this little nerd had gotten to him. Probably a combination of both. "I can never figure out if it's because of his quirk or if it's because he's so damn disgusting and terrifying, the way his skin feels is like an assault in and of itself. Like he's so evil the very act of touching you is painful. Or maybe it's you and how your body reacts to threats. Like you know you have to get away from the guy so your nerves are on high alert. I can't figure it out. Whether I'm awake or asleep." He could feel his cheeks starting to burn now. Was he getting soft? Why all of a sudden were the thoughts he was trying to sort out on his own falling out of his mouth? And to Deku, of all fucking people?

"No, I know what you mean." Deku said, quietly. "Now that I know what he is and what he can do, now that I've witnessed it firsthand, there's not a lot that scares me more than that. Sometimes I jump out of my skin when somebody touches me without warning. I know it's stupid and there's no reason for me to be afraid, but that doesn't stop my body from reacting the way it does." Katsuki looked up at this. Without meaning to, Deku had put a thought into words that Bakugo had not been able to before.

"Ever since I came back from the villain's headquarters I've had this invisible bubble around me that I can't see, but I can sense it. And when someone pops that bubble all the alarms go off in my head and they're all telling me to take out the threat, even if-"

"there's no threat to take out." Their eyes met. How had Katsuki forgotten about that? He wasn't the only person the villain had put his hands on. This wasn't something he had to keep to himself, he could talk about it. And this fucking nerd had been there right alongside him the whole time, probably thinking the same thing. He had already seen him cry -more than once, now that he thought about it- and his therapist had been nagging him to confide in someone who had similar experiences. So he kept going. They managed to stay in the kitchen talking -actually, really talking to one another- for damn near two hours before they realized the sun had begun to peek through the twilight outside.

Katsuki had meant to take a walk around the grounds and head back to bed for a few more hours' restless sleep, but after noting the sky had begun to turn a deep purple, ("holy shit, the sun is coming up already? What a waste of time I could have been sleeping, damn Deku!") he climbed the stairs back to his room only when the other students had started to wake and begin their daily search for breakfast. His classmates could eat without him, he was spending the first half of the off day asleep. He climbed back under the soft covers and couldn't help smiling at how much lighter his heart felt. Maybe his therapist was on to something.