He's always been comfortable with who he was. Bakugou Katsuki. He has always been Bakugou, the hot-headed and ambitious kid, the one who was known for being antisocial because he didn't get along with others. When it came to arguments, he never really joined in unless others lugged him into them. He usually minded his own business, not particularly caring. And yet it was his feisty and loud personality when interacting with others that he would hear his name called like bait, drawing him into the battlefield of a verbal fight. Truthfully, he would rather he didn't have so much attention. He preferred the feeling of praise, being praised, not the laughing stock of The Typhoon. But here he was. Lectured by children, beaten up by demons, viewed in a belittling manner. Some days he didn't want to be Bakugou Katsuki, but rather someone else. Someone who was more appreciated, treated with respect. He supposes he can understand just why he struggled to integrate with others. Manners don't sit well on his tongue, nor is he particularly aware of his true feelings. He lacks self-awareness. Not in battle, of course, for he knows his strengths and weaknesses well, but he's always been awful at recognising the effect he has on others - the way he always appeared to look down on them. Truth be told, he wasn't exactly the condescending type. He treats everyone as equals...everyone in his unkind manner.

His argumentative personality has gotten him in trouble again. After asking around for what had happened during his twelve day coma, his pitiful absence, no one really told him much other than the fact that some members had been captured and there was a rescue raid he had missed out on. It frustrates him to know one of the captured members were none other than their beloved Dealer. Don't get him wrong, he likes Goldenluxury because she's one of the few who don't go out of their way to vex him, but he's envious of what she has and what he doesn't have: support. He tells himself he doesn't need it but it never meant he doesn't want to experience the sensation of having others believe in you, want you to succeed. They always wanted him to fail and it felt damn lonely.

He hears a familiar stammer, the meek voice of their Dealer gently echoing to his ears, introducing herself. He can't bring himself to move. He missed seeing her face when he woke up in a flurry of flames. Perhaps it was for the better good. He could have hurt someone, especially after hearing that Kirishima frequented his spot whilst he was regenerating below the hard earth. He could have hurt Kirishima. His ear twitches irritably. They always told him he was too reckless, too destructive to be even considered a hero. There were so many others that stood in his way, outshone his own talents and skills he worked tirelessly to perfect. He knows he can survive on raw power alone and therefore works to grow, become better, to develop. It's the same as friendships but compared to his combat prowess, his social skills made him the algae in the Great Chain of Being. He simply can't understand how others worked. He's tried being nicer as of late, tried not to walk past and insult others, to be inclusive and 'encourage' them to work but he feels stunted, fixed within this plot of land.

Goldenluxury was that one ray of sunshine. She doesn't completely understand him but she at least accepts him, even offers to make him food or help out with his favours. He tried to return the favour by saving her that one time from Luca... boy did that go well. It was almost as if the universe was trying to tell him that he would never be able to be appreciated. He can't even recall the last time he did a 'good deed'. The Reaver presses his lips together. And I call myself a hero. To be honest, he would rather pretend he didn't hear her and turn around, walk the other direction and lock himself back in his hut like he did from time to time. Then he can take out his anger within his force, smashing rock against rock as he does his best to refine armour and weapons like he always does. They were the only things that seemed to go well for him. Or maybe he can keep going but walk past, still pretending to be deaf to her call (unaware that she had lost her memories of him, of course) so not to hurt her feelings and go on hunting. He can take down something large, drag it back home to skin and make rugs.

There are times he needs to be braver than he is. Except the last time I did that, I go fuckin' wrecked by Luca. His eyes look to his paws, wriggling his toes as he tries to feign a small, albeit awkward, smile upon his face. A brave face, he calls it. Something so he can look like he cares because even though he cared as much as anyone did, perhaps even more than others, it was always clouded by his foul mouth and anger... but the fact that he was always angry should have suggested that Bakugou simply cared too much. Come on, it's Goldie for fuck's sake. She's not going to hurt him. He doubts she too will turn into some kind of monster, trash him to the point that his own limbs went flying from his own bodies. She can't hurt him, he reminds himself. She wouldn't even try. She was too nice for that, too considerate. And yet Bakugou doesn't know that the fact that he accepted her, thought she was someone worth helping and dying for, meant that she was perfectly capable of hurting him. His feelings were vulnerable but Bakugou's lack of self-awareness makes him think he's invulnerable to her. He'll be perfectly fine if he sees her.

He begins to move, thoughts rushing through the chasms of his mind, blasted on full volume as they surged along his neurons. He should have been there. If he hadn't been so brash, he wouldn't have been in a coma and perhaps Goldenluxury wouldn't have been captured. His nose scrunches at the lingering Pittian smell. Awful, it was awful. Even if he couldn't have stopped her from being captured, he could have at least joined in on that rescue raid, be a knight in shining armour. But where was he? In some hole in the ground, living like a vegetable as the earth tended to him in mysterious ways. I'm sorry, he plans to say to her. He wonders if she will smile at him and tell her that it'd be okay, that she forgave him.

"Gold -... Goldie?"

His words leave him before he's had time to filter them, to check if they were alright to say. Stammered. His voice is stammered because his mind is so busy talking to himself, trying to be brave because he felt so horrible just seeing her. There is blankness lacing her expression, painting her youthful but tired features as her bird presses against her. He looks at Cronas who is still talking, telling the Dealer that she was safe. Safe from what? The Pitt might be far away now but she wasn't safe from her memories (the irony was that Bakugou didn't realise Goldenluxury had amnesia). How could they have just told her she was safe? How should they even react? If that had been him, he wouldn't have accepted those words. He probably would have thrown a fit, a tantrum, some kind of rage to express just how wrong Cronas was. But it wasn't him, it was Goldie. Perhaps those words were just what she needed. As selfish and insensitive as it sounded, he just wants to see her get up and go about her business, decorate the island as she usually did. He wants to watch her do her duties, work harder than she needed to because then, at least, it will tell Bakugou that everything was fine, everything was normal.

He's just...desperate for things to return as they are. Upon waking up from his coma, it was clear as day that things weren't normal. Mayhem had erupted and it brought along a wave of guilt because of his stupid decisions. Perhaps he shouldn't have felt so guilty. It would suggest he thought himself better than he actually was, but Bakugou would rather do something than helplessly watch from the sidelines. He would rather know he tried to do something than learn that he had been sleeping like a baby the whole time.

"How's - uh - your back?" He doesn't really know what to say to her. There's no point saying that he missed her or was glad that she had returned because such words, if they left his maw, would always feel empty to him. They may be true but they always felt as if he was forging some kind of lie because he knows himself to never say these things, stuck in a never-ending loop of wanting to be better but never being able to do it. It was a funny thing. They tell him to be a better person but when he tries, they assume him to be lying or have a motive behind his back. It was frustrating. "Is it -" his eyes look away, unable to stare at her bruised form any longer and unable to stop himself from the ocean of guilt that was drowning him "- still painful? Your body, that is. Does it still hurt?" It looks like it hurts but he doesn't know how he can help it. Bakugou, as he always painfully reminds himself, doesn't have an ounce of knowledge on how to heal. No matter how much he cares about the ones around him, it seems like he can never save them.

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