"You look absolutely horrid."

Izuku's only saving grace from a comment like that is the obvious concern in his tone---coupled with the fact that Katsuki has about all of the energy of an anemic and has no intention to waste it on petty banter and insincere insults. He finds a more proper use for it in fishing around his coat pocket for his lighter, half of a cigarette already poised between lithe fingers.

"I thought you quit those?"

Katsuki did, too. Or, well, at least he tried.

Saying so out loud would more likely than not just sound like half-assed excuses so he opts for a halfhearted shrug in leui of an explanation---to which he owes fucking no one, anyway.

"Cocaine's too tough on my nose so I switched back." He says dryly, flicking the half empty lighter until it sparks and produces a sorry excuse for a flame but it serves to light his cancerous stick of tobacco nonetheless. The first drag is heavenly, taking the tension out of his shoulders.

Izuku sighs. "Kacchan."

"It's a joke, Deku, fucking hell."

"You're not funny."

"Really? And here I thought I'd be nominated comedian of the year."

"And you can't just use humor to avoid talking about your problem; we talked about this."

Ha! Shows what you know, Shitty Deku. Katsuki can use sarcasm to mask his problems until it kills him.

Katsuki can think of about ten other things he'd rather be doing than listening to his friend nag him to death but it would seem those options became mere pointless desires the moment Izuku Midoriya invited himself into Katsuki's apartment.

He's got to hide that spare key somewhere else.

"Yes, thank you, Dr. Phil, for the ever accurate and yet highly rejected psychoanalysis that no one asked for. Anything else I can do for you today or can I enjoy the rest of my fucking cigarette in peace?" He's being fairly lukewarm still, mostly because he's well aware that it would take much more than that to deter the freckled teen from prying and picking his brain. After fifteen years of cursing and insulting him, the intimidation factor has long since gone. At this point, Izuku regards Katsuki's fussing as he would an angry lap-dog.

"Actually, I need to borrow your notes from law ethics. I missed class yesterday and I need them for that exam we've got next week." He's already digging through Katsuki's bag and flipping through his notebooks and Katsuki let's him. The faster he finds what he's looking for, the sooner he can be left alone to be miserable in peace.

"Seriously, what's up with you? You haven't been like this since your pet turtle died in grade school."

Katsuki discards the remains of his cigarette with a scowl, having smoked it down to the filter. It's his last one and he doesn't really have the funds to keep spending on such a bad habit, hence the reason that he's trying to quit although Izuku thinks it's because he wants to be healthier.

"It's work stuff, nerd, don't worry about it."

There's a discernible amount of disdain in Izuku's features.

"You mean that sleezy club you're at, right?"

Here we go, again.

"Don't fuckin' start, Deku."

"Kacchan, you know how I feel about you working there. It's degrading, it's disgusting---"

"It's a fuckin' strip club, not a goddamn prostitution ring."

"It's dangerous and you could get hurt!"

"Like Yui, right? That's what you're thinking?" He's been tiptoeing around the subject since it happened that night---about a week ago now. Katsuki dragged himself from the club---walked---all the way to Izuku's dorm at four in the morning to tell him what happened and he was clearly shaken up in the midst of the whole ordeal. He and Yui weren't friends at all, really, just coworkers but Katsuki had never seen a dead body before---not like that.

Izuku thought it best to hold his I told you so.

"Yui died because she was a goddamn junkie, nobody killed her---"

"Who do you think exposed her to drugs in the first place?"

"Does it matter? Do you think I'm so goddamn impressionable that I'd just take drugs from people? Or do you just expect me to be a complete failure altogether?"

Izuku cuts his spiel short with an exasperated huff. "Kacchan."

Katsuki's too exhausted for this.

"Whatever, shitty nerd. I'm pulling a double shift tonight. You know, to cover the dead girl's shift? What I need is a fucking nap, not a lecture so would you kindly take the notes and get the fuck out? Thanks."

Izuku complies without any objection. He knows he won't be able to talk Katsuki into quitting, especially now that the blonde feels he has something to prove. It's all a mess, really. He almost regrets saying anything about it.

Almost.

"Fine but you have to text me to let me know you've made it there and back safely, alright? And if anything happens just call me and I'll come get you right away---"

"Yeh, I heard you the first six hundred times. The fuck out of here, already."

The door shuts behind Izuku and Katsuki can't be bothered to get up and lock it behind him. That entire exchange was emotionally exhausting, but what's Katsuki to do when his pride is bigger than his need for a more healthy and stable lifestyle?

And rent. Don't forget about rent.

#

Katsuki is fucking tired.

He shouldn't complain---not when he volunteered to take on Yui's shifts until they could hire someone to replace her---but he didn't think that it would be so difficult to keep up. He's done five sets in the last eight hours, feet aching in those six inch stilettos that are starting to pinch around his toes and now he's been requested for a private dance when all he wants to do is pass right the fuck out on the sofa in the boudoir and sleep for eighty years.

Or, ya know, just fucking die.

Midnight comes in like the tyrant she is, pointing red painted nails in Katsuki's direction.

"You've got three minutes, kid, hurry it up!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fuckin' comin'!" Katsuki yells back with an ugly snarl twisted at his lips, turning back to his vanity mirror to finish re-applying his lip gloss to rosy, cherry plump lips. His hair is mussy and glossed over with the sweat of his last performance no less than fifteen minutes prior but he just pats himself down with a towel and reapplies his perfume, debating on whether or not he should take the time to add another layer of mascara. He smirks at himself through the reflection of the vanity mirror's glass, eyeliner still sharp enough to cut a bitch even though he's just spent the last eight hours contemplating jumping head first into traffic.

"Somebody's popular~" Yuga says, plopping down into the overly decorated chair to Katsuki's left. He's covered from head to toe in loose bills and his own bling, diamond chokers and tennis bracelets adorning his slim, lean figure. He crosses his legs at the ankles, showing off his $3,500  Christian Louboutin stilettos that sparkle every single time the vanity light hits them.

"You, on the other hand, look like you just got gang-banged in a jacuzzi full of notes. I'm mad."

Yuga smacks his lips together after rubbing a bit of lipstick off off of his teeth, cutting his eyes at the blonde with that charming little smile that he knows people go crazy for. "Oh, don't act like you don't come back with your little thongs filled with money. If anyone should be jealous, mon amour, it should be me." He swings his wrist in an exaggerated motion that fans Katsuki's ego.

"You're not wrong."

"Honey, you're obsessed with yourself."

"And you're not? Tragic. Even though we both know you're a vain ass bitch."

"Touché. Je suis magnifique, I know~"

Katsuki checks his reflection in the mirror once more, pulling the lacy, strappy lingerie up on his hips. That's all it takes for him to slip into that vixenish facade, turning on his heels with his nose up in the air like the boujie bitch that he is. Yuga claps a pale, round ass cheek and whistles when it jiggles, laughing when Katsuki turns and winks at him as he struts into the opposite direction.

"Have fun, mon amour!"

As if Katsuki was here for fun.

But despite himself, the blonde's lips still curl into that devious trademark smirk.

Okay, Kat, let's make this money.