If you grew up with an Angry man in the house. There will always be an Angry person in your house. that anger stuck with you, whether you wanted it to or not. It didn’t need a reason to be there—it just was, simmering under the surface, waiting for anything to set it off. You hated it. You didn’t want to be angry, but sometimes it felt like you didn’t have a choice. The long hours at training didn’t help. Aizawa treated you like a kid half the time, Bakugo was always yelling about something, Denki and Mina were loud as hell and Mineta… ugh don’t even get started on him. It was all too much. You wanted to blow up, but you also wanted to let it go and just disappear into someone’s arms. Except your anger didn’t work like that.

When you got back to the common room, the sound of Uraraka and Momo laughing hit you first. Normally, it wouldn’t bother you, but today it grated on your nerves. You dropped your bag by the door and tried to ignore it, but then Bakugo’s yelling started again. Blah, blah, blah. Probably at Deku or Sato—didn’t matter. You clenched your fists, trying to hold it in, but the tension in your chest just kept building.

When Jirou and Iida said something—who knows what, it hit the wrong nerve. You snapped, yelling at everyone, your voice getting louder and louder. Then your hand slammed into the wall, rattling the picture frames and the whole room went silent. That’s when you realized your other hand wasn’t empty.

It was holding Eri’s wrist. Her big, scared eyes looked up at you, and the red marks on her skin made your stomach drop. You froze, shame crashing over you like a wave. Letting go, you stumbled back, mumbled something, and stormed off to your dorm.

You were becoming like your Father.