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The first explosion feels inevitable. He doesn’t meant to do it, of course, but since when has intent ever mattered? The second explosion takes even him by surprise. His desk is blown to bits, papers seared and floating lazily down to the ground. Only in the aftermath of all that noise does he hear his name being called. He looks up, barely feeling in control of the movement, at the teacher. There are words. He’s sure there are; he can see lips moving and the horrified gazes of his classmates.
No, not his classmates. Class 1-B.
His palms had started to sweat and smoke, staring down at that test page, his head swimming and dizzy. It’s gone now, the test, blown to fucking bits with his desk. What the fuck is wrong with him? What’s happening? His vision swims, dark around the edges, and the only thing he can hear is a loud ringing in his ears and his own too-fast breathing. He’s gonna fucking die.
He’d been staring down at the page in front of him and had realized with a slow, dawning horror that he didn’t understand a single thing on it. Sure, he knows the basics of some of the concepts, but at some point they’d evolved and specified, making them near unrecognizable.
And then he’d…blown up his desk.
This has literally never happened to Katsuki before and his mind feels like its trying to short-circuit just to understand the implications. Him, not knowing the material on an exam? Katsuki Bakugou? Number three in his class, and fourth in his grade? Impossible. He studies near-daily, takes the most thorough notes in class, eats and sleeps and breathes practical theory.
Except…well he hasn’t been doing those things lately, not for nearly a month. And it’s not his fucking fault either!
“Bakugou.” The voice finally, finally reaches through the ringing in his ear and he jerks with surprise, head snapping up. The 1-B teacher is staring him down seriously. “Nurse’s office, now.”
Katsuki blinks, swaying slightly where he stands. His chest still feels too tight and he suddenly, desperately wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole. To go back five minutes ago when he was staring blankly at the test paper and hadn’t caused an entire fucking scene.
But neither of those things happen, because this is real life. He nods jerkily and finally steps away from the wreckage of his desk. It’s only then that he notices the bleeding scratches up and down his arm, the faint twinge of pain where something solid must have hit his shin. He’s normally so careful with his quirk, even if it doesn’t look like it. He knows the trajectory of debris caused by his explosions, can pinpoint how to angle himself to avoid being hurt, how to avoid hitting anyone or anything near him.
Fuck, what the hell is wrong with him?
He cradles his arm close to his chest, blood smearing against the perfect white of his uniform. Walking through the school halls feels surreal and again he’s struck with the feeling that his mind is trying to detach from his body. It floats somewhere behind him, oblivious, his body merely a tether that moves on its own.
Recovery Girl opens the infirmary door before Katsuki has time to, peering out at him through her visor. She tuts gently at whatever she sees, and ushers him inside.
“Sit down,” she tells him, pushing him towards one of the beds. He goes easily enough and his knees practically give out on him the moment he goes to sit down, collapsing against the semi-soft mattress. Some part of him wants to shoo her off or snarl at the way she examines him, pulling his limbs this way and that to find all the places where he’d so carelessly let himself get hit. Then she places the expected kiss on his cheek and he finally finds the energy to growl at her, hating the sensation.
A warm rush flows through him, his arm tingling unpleasantly as his flesh stitches itself back together. The wounds were fairly shallow all things considered and he barely feels drained from the healing, despite the blood still smeared across his skin.
Recovery Girl cleans him up quickly, though there’s not much she can do for his shirt, before finally pulling her rolling stool close and sitting down in front of him. He has to look down to meet her piercing gaze, and his own eyes flicker away after just a few seconds.
“So,” she says, easy, conversational, “want to tell me what happened?”
Katsuki’s breath stutters and his mind snaps back into his body with enough force to leave him reeling. He failed a test. He didn’t know a single goddamn question on it.
His palms are sweating and he can feel his heart racing way too quickly. Recovery Girl is frowning at him, her brow furrowed, but he shakes his head, can’t get his throat to move enough to speak.
“Bakugou, what’s wrong?” Distant, he barely makes out the question.
His lips form around a word, an answer, but he’s not sure what it is. There’s ringing in his ears again but he thinks he manages to force sound into the word. Whatever it is makes Recovery Girl’s eyes widen, briefly, and then she’s speaking to him. He can see her mouth moving, her hands on his arms as she pushes him back into the bed and tells him…something. He doesn’t know, his heart is racing and his thoughts are scattered and distant. All he can think about is that goddamn test, the impending sense of failure, and. Well. Izuku. Green eyes and curly hair and Jesus, does he miss the nerd? Is that what’s happening?
Recovery Girl disappears from his line of sight and he almost instantly forgets about her. He’s focused instead on trying to force his body into submission, on gathering his loose thoughts and putting them back into coherence.
He’s not sure how long he lays there, curled on his side -when did he even lay down? He can’t remember- his every ounce of focus on his own breathing, on the steady in and out of his chest, because he feels like if he doesn’t forcibly contract each muscle to perform the act he might die. It has to be a decent amount of time though, because one moment he’s laying there, and the next Deku’s stupid fucking face is swimming into view in front of him.
Deku is crouching next to the bed to bring them to eye level and…well, he looks like shit. There are dark rings under his eyes like he hasn’t been sleeping well, and his hair is a mess. Probably from him running his fingers through it too much, or pulling at his curls while deep in thought. His mouth is pulled into a worried frown, and even through all the shit in his head Katsuki still hears they way it forms his name
“Kacchan.”
And everything hits him at once. Realization after realization.
Because Deku is the reason Katsuki didn’t know a goddamn thing on that test.
At some point, Aizawa and a few of the other UA faculty members had decided that Deku would learn and progress better…if he was away from Katsuki. Obviously Katsuki had fought the decision; why the hell should he have to move classes just for that nerd? He won’t say that he actually liked his classmates, but they were certainly more tolerable than his new ones.
The change hadn’t suited him. Almost immediately he’d found himself twitchy and more prone to outbursts than usual. He’d actually burned someone in that first week, after which his new classmates proceeded to stay as far away from him as possible. Which he was grateful for, honestly, because his mood never improved.
The truth is that he’s never been so far away from Izuku this long in his life. He’d thought it was just his new classmates being annoying at first that pissed him off and put him on edge, and then he’d thought maybe, just maybe he was missing his old classmates. But thinking back he realizes he’d been listening out for the sound of pen against paper from the desk behind him. Of course, his desk is in the back of the room, and the sound never came.
They’ve been in the same class since fucking pre-school and lived next door to each other for even longer that that. And now suddenly they’re in different classes, on different schedules, and still live on different floors of the dorm. This is the first time he’s seen Deku’s face, heard his voice, in nearly a month. It rocks through him so powerfully that he just…breaks. Something in him simply snaps and he swears he can hear the echo of it ringing through his head, so loud he doesn’t even notice that he’s crying until Izuku, looking horrified, asks him if he’s okay.
Katsuki doesn’t speak. He can’t. He just grabs Deku around the neck and hauls him bodily into the bed with him, causing the other boy to squeak loudly and flail. But if Izuku objects he doesn’t say it, only readjusts himself where Katsuki has pulled him atop his own body. His eyes are huge and green and confused, palms finding the mattress beside Katsuki’s chest. “Um?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki hisses, and swallows back more tears he can feel trying to well up. His cheeks are hot and tacky and already starting to itch but he ignores it. Readjusts his grip so that he can hold Izuku close against him and revel in the feel of him. His weight pushing Katsuki down into the bed is the only thing grounding him right now, a balm where he hadn’t known he’d been aching until he’d blown up a fucking desk. “I…need this.”
Izuku’s mouth falls open, and fuck why is Katsuki noticing how plush it is? Except he knows why, he just doesn’t want to admit it. The answer is obvious now, so clear even Katsuki with his broken social skills can figure it out.
“Kacchan.” It’s soft and surprised, like Izuku can’t believe this is happening. Quite frankly neither can Katsuki. But where Katsuki is angrily holding Deku close, discretely trying to rub tears off his face, Izuku just smiles down at him and wriggles around until he can rest his head on Katsuki’s chest. “I missed you so much.”
Katsuki snorts and can’t help but reach up to run his fingers through Deku’s hair. It’s soft to the touch but a little oily and a lot messy. “I can tell, nerd. When was the last time you showered?”
That makes Izuku wince. “Um. A couple days ago? I don’t know.” He’s got his arms crossed under his head now and his chin propped up on the back of his hands. The position makes Katsuki have to tuck his chin to look him in the eye, but it’s not uncomfortable. “I just…it was hard to make myself do stuff. Without you around, I mean. I just wanted to see you.”
Katsuki isn’t quite sure what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything at all. The silence is comfortable between them, Katsuki still gently petting Izuku and Izuku’s eyes slowly drifting into slits, his breathing evening out. Like he might just fall asleep right here on top of Katsuki and be happy to do it. When was the last time he had a proper sleep? Katsuki trails his fingers down the soft, freckled cheek, and runs his thumb under one of Izuku’s eyes, where the skin is purple and swollen.
Izuku’s eyes flutter open again, and he bites his lower lip. Remembering where is, probably. “Kacchan. What happened? Why are you in here?” His voice is hushed, like he doesn’t want to be too forceful with the question.
Katsuki breathes out harshly through his nose. “Dunno,” he says after a long moment. “I haven’t been studying, and when I got the test and realized I didn’t know anything on it I just kind of…flipped out. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hear. Next thing I knew my desk was in pieces.”
“That happens to me sometimes too,” Izuku admits, then rushes to explain, “I mean, not the exploding part of course since I can’t do that with my quirk, but like the panicking and freaking out part? Um. I think they’re called panic attacks.” There’s a smudge of blood on Katsuki’s collar and Izuku thumbs at it curiously. “Did you…get hit with debris?” It’s not what he’s really asking. They both know Katsuki has better control than that, so what he really wants to know is if Katsuki lost that control. Under normal circumstances Katsuki wouldn’t admit that to someone like Deku for all the money in the world. But right here, right now…Well, he already told the nerd about failing the test.
“Yeah, something like that.”
Izuku’s eyes refocus on Katsuki’s face, a little surprised, and a lot pretty. All swirling greens, darker around the edges and lighter towards the iris. “Oh,” he says in response. “I’m sorry.”
“Why? It’s not your fault.”
“No, but…” Izuku trails off, his gaze once again going distant as he falls into that familiar state of overthinking every goddamn thing. But he shakes himself a moment later, just before Katsuki can pinch his cheek or something to regain his attention. “I just mean, since I haven’t been around and stuff? Since you said, you know, that without me there-”
“That’s still not your fault,” Katsuki snaps, and when did he wrap an arm around Izuku’s body? His palm is against one of the nerd’s shoulder blades, pressing down gently, keeping him close. Izuku doesn’t seem to mind the pressure, if anything he sinks deeper against Katsuki’s chest. Like it’s the most comfortable place he’s ever been. “You didn’t pull us apart. You didn’t move me into another class.” His voice lowers, anger building. At himself, at the school, at the teachers who dared to try and pull them apart.
He can see it clearly now, the string, the bond that connects them. How strained and frayed it is after being apart for so long, but how eagerly it’s snapping back into place now. For so long his only goal has been to be the best at everything he does, to be the top hero, but he can feel his world view adjusting, just enough. To include Izuku, and it include protecting their bond. He’ll die before he lets it get strung so taught again.
“I guess not,” Izuku mumbles in response, unaware of Katsuki’s inner resolve. For whatever reason, he doesn’t seem to find the blonde’s anger intimidating in the slightest, though he usually flinches from Katsuki’s harshness. “But I should have come and found you anyways, in the dorms. I’ve missed you so much.” The last is said softly, with pain, and it makes Katsuki’s breath catch in his throat.
He’s moving before he makes a conscious decision to, arms around Izuku as he flips their positions in the bed. Hovering over the other boy, arms and thighs boxing him in. Not that Izuku seems keen to go anywhere; hes staring up at Katsuki with glassy eyes, like he’s on the verge of crying.
“I’ll kill them if they try to separate us again,” Katsuki says, dead serious. Clearly they need each other; how can Aizawa and the others not see that? It’s plain as day to Katsuki. Plainer, even, as bright as a noon sun on a cloudless afternoon.
Beneath him Izuku gasps a little in surprise, but his arms wind around Katsuki’s neck and pull him close mere seconds later. There’s iron strength in those arms as Katsuki falls to his elbows, pressing their bodies as close together as possible, slotting himself between Izuku’s thighs as they open in Izuku’s attempt to physically attach himself to Katsuki.
“Is it wrong that I find that romantic?” Izuku says from where he’s mashed his face between Katsuki’s shoulder and neck. His breath is warm and damp and sends shivers down Katsuki’s spine.
“It’s not meant to be,” Katsuki says roughly in response. “It’s a fucking promise.”
That gets him a laugh out of Izuku, small and slightly wet with unshed tears. “I know, I believe you.” He loosens his hold, falling back against the pillows with a little smile. “I love you.”
The last final piece slots into place and Katsuki breathes out harshly through his nose. “I love you too, nerd.”
There’s a moment, a long drawn out one where they’re merely looking at each other, faces inching closer like they’re finally going to slot together the way they’ve always been meant to.
But then the curtain around the bed is jerked aside and Recovery Girl’s voice has them both flinching away from each other in surprise. “As happy as I am that you two have figured yourselves out, I think maybe it’s time you go back to the dorms. Classes are over, and there’s only so long that I can listen to you threaten staff over there.”
Katsuki’s mouth pulls into a snarl, an automatic reaction to once again being interrupted. To someone intruding on a moment and a space that was theirs. But a hand on his face, warm and familiar, has him calming before he can snap. “Want to come back to my room? You can sleep there,” Izuku murmurs. Then, louder, he calls, “Sorry! We’ll leave in a moment.”
Katsuki snorts. “So I can feel like All Might is staring me from a million different posters and figurines? No thanks. We’ll go to mine instead.”
“Okay,” Izuku agrees easily, and finally leans up to seal their mouths together.
Recovery Girl has to yell at them to leave again before they remember they have someplace to be.