Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He was slowly brought back into consciousness, and he groaned as all encompassing pain and nausea overtook him. He tried to bury his head into his pillow, only to find his face scratching across something cold and slightly rough. Confused, he attempted to open his eyes. He found it more difficult than usual, there seemed to be something crusted on his eyes making them stick. 

He eventually managed, but immediately he regretted his decision as the light multiplied his pain. His entire head felt like it was going to explode. Pounding harder behind his eyes the longer he had them open. He looked around, panicked. Shit, had he been kidnapped again?! Was he in some type of creepy ass lab or something, he thought as he attempted to turn on his side. It was then that the smell hit him. The smell of bile and blood. He turned away from where the smell was strongest as he curled into himself. It caused him to gag and he tried to ignore the nausea that was threatening to overcome him. It only worsened as the memory hit him. Pieces of his memory seemed foggy but he remembered enough. 

He was home for the weekend when it had happened, he knew he wasn’t sick, he wasn’t that weak. He must have just eaten something that had gone bad. Either way he found himself struggling to push past the nausea. He had already escaped to his room for the night. He didn’t want to act off, risking getting told off for his attitude. He couldn’t handle a punch to the gut right now, and he didn’t trust his reaction time while he was distracted by his stomach. 

He found himself lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Wishing the nausea away. He tried his hardest to ignore the cramping and waves of queasiness that seemed to wash over him. He felt too hot and too cold at the same time. It was making him sweat too much, it was starting to get dangerous. He knew he should get up, change his clothes. Rinse his hands in alcohol, but he couldn’t find it in himself to move. If he stood up he was sure he would lose the control he barely had. He refused to throw up, if he did the hag would think he was sick, and she’d get mad he’d allowed himself to become weak. So far he’d been lucky. Had barely been sick as a kid, but the one time he had, had not been a pleasant experience, he didn’t need a repeat. So no, he wasn’t sick and he was not about to puke. He continued to swallow rapidly as he felt the bile rise up his throat. He closed his eyes and tried to take deep breaths. He thought maybe the wave was near its end, he’d be fine. 

Then he wasn’t.

He knew he’d all but lost the battle to keep it down, but he’d ignored the warning signs in his attempts to hold it back. He tried to get up, rush to his bathroom but his foot got stuck. He collided with the ground harshly, foot wrapped in the blanket. He started to tug on it, panicking; he was running out of time. With one last frantic tug he managed to break free. Scrambling to the toilet, he was almost there. He’d had at most 5 steps when he lost the battle. He held his palm up to his mouth but it didn’t stop anything. Fuck he was gonna get killed.

It’s okay, it’s fine I just have to clean this up really well and she’ll never know. The thought calmed him down for a minute as he went to wash his mouth out. He still felt nauseous but it had lessened a bit. Looking in the mirror he seemed pale, and he slapped his face to bring some color back into it, and maybe he slapped a little harsher than necessary. He was disappointed in himself for being so weak and making a mess. 

“Katsuki! What the hell was that fucking thud!” Shit, fuck, shit. He hadn’t heard her come up the stairs and from the sound of it she was already about to enter his room. He looked around frantically as he tried to clean it up quickly, he didn’t get very far before she was opening the door. 

“Fucking hell, what the fuck did you do!” she said as she slammed the door open and he made to move in front of his mistake. It didn’t do anything to detour her as she pushed him harshly aside. 

“What a fucking mess! I can’t believe you Katsuki! Are you seriously that much of an attention whore you needed to pull this shit! Need to fucking fake being sick just so you can use it as an excuse to screw around? After everything I’ve done for you, you still pull this shit! You're such an ungrateful brat!” She was now in his face, pointing at him with an accusing finger. 

“I’m not fucking faking! I just ate something bad!” he knew this probably wouldn’t help the situation, but he didn’t like that she thought he was faking this for attention. This was apparently the wrong thing to say as his chin was suddenly being gripped tightly, long manicured nails slicing into his skin. She liked to keep them pointy, they had always reminded him of claws.

“You can’t be fucking serious Katsuki. Are you saying you're sick? You wouldn’t say that right? You wouldn’t be that weak.” She asked in a sickly sweet voice, obviously meant to threaten him. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“I’m not fucking sick. Fuck off! Just cause I ate something shitty doesn’t make me fucking weak, you're just being a fucking bitch!” he knew it was too far, but he was tired and his nausea was getting worse again, he just wanted to lay down. He glanced up, looking into her eyes. She was definitely angry, her lips were drawn in a taut line and her eyes were alight with rage. His head snapped to the side, as her palm made contact with his cheek, and he began stumbling back. He was stopped as he was tugged forward by his collar closer to her face.

“You will not talk to me like that Katsuki. I will not be fucking disrespected! Your going to clean up this fucking mess, and you’ll be going to school tomorrow. I don’t believe for a second you aren’t fucking faking this shit.” her words were laced with venom and were spat right into his face. He tried not to cringe as her spit landed on him. 

“Maybe if I give you something to feel like crap over you'll stop trying to make shit up.” he didn’t know what that meant but as her hand flew up to latch onto his hair he was suddenly overcome by fear of what she was willing to do. He had been standing next to the sink and with a harsh shove his head collided with the counter top, his socked feet slipping on the tile as the force of the blow and his added body weight made his head connect with a sickening crack. Pain immediately blossomed in his head, and he struggled against his watering eyes as he stared at the wall, struggling to suppress his cries. She jerked his head back up from where she had yet to release her vice grip. He attempted to look at her through blurry vision but his eyes rolled back in his head and his vision started to swim at the sudden movement. She then threw him in the opposite direction, right into the puddle of sick. He was rapidly losing consciousness but was still conscious enough to hear her parting words. 

“God, you're pathetic.” She then turned to leave, slamming the door as she left. The look in her eyes was of absolute disgust and made him feel so small. He felt her words were true as he laid there. He truly did feel pathetic as tears slipped past his rapidly closing eyes and he was overtaken by the smell of his own shame. He welcomed the oncoming blackness as he let himself drift into the quiet abyss that welcomed him.

Coming back from the flashback he knew what had happened, and what was crusting his eyes closed. He reached a hand up and sure enough as soon as his fingertips got close to the wound his pain grew exponentially, with a wince he drew back. His hand was coated with blood and he knew the rest of his face probably wasn’t faring well either. Fuck, what time was it!? Shooting up, he attempted to look for his phone. His vision swam immediately upon doing so, and his nausea became unbearable. He didn’t want to do this so soon after what had happened last night, but he didn’t have a choice as he was suddenly leaning over the toilet again. At least this time he could blame the concussion he probably had. 

He eventually dragged himself up to look into the mirror, using the sink to brace himself. He looked so much worse than he did before. Half his face and hair had a thick red coating, and his eye bags were so very dark. His skin had paled even more, and he couldn’t even bring himself to look at the wound on his head. He sighed and wiped the sweat off his forehead. Suddenly he remembered what had caused him to sit up before. He left the gross bathroom to search for his phone. The walk to his bed seemed so far, and he was moving at a snail's pace. Stop being so dramatic, fucking man up. You're literally fine she’s done worse, he told himself, but his walking only increased slightly. 

Finally he made it to his phone, and after blinking a couple times could see it was still only 6:00 so he had at least some time to get ready for school, and leave at 7:30. Normally he would have gotten up at 5 but he hadn’t had much of a choice this morning. Okay, first things first, he needed to shower. He was absolutely drenched in sweat, blood, and something he didn’t want to think about. Which in turn made him think about it. Shit, he still had to clean up that whole mess, and after last night his mom would definitely check. He battled between cleaning before or after he showered in case maybe it helped him feel a little better. But he eventually decided to just get it over with. His mom had probably already left for work, so that left his dad being the only one there.

He really didn’t want to run into him like this, he'd just end up excusing his moms behavior, and he didn’t really want to listen to it right now. So he snuck downstairs as well as he could with his head still pounding, and stomach still cramping. It was harder than it would have been otherwise but soon enough he was back in his room, cleaning supplies in hand. 

Cleaning was a nightmare and more than once it was too much and he found himself in the same situation as this morning. God had hated it, the fact he didn’t have any say whether or not he would be sick again. He really hoped he could make it through the day. By the time he was done it was 6:30 and he only had an hour left.

All he wanted to do was take his shower and crawl into his warm bed. Maybe stay there forever, he’d barely even done anything and he was already so tired he had a hard time keeping his eyes open. No, he needed to snap out of it. He needed to get to class, he couldn’t afford falling behind. He hadn’t missed a day yet and he was determined to keep his record clean. So, with new found vigor he got into the shower. 

He had to admit it did feel really nice, it didn’t help his nausea any and anytime the warm water would hit his wound it burned terribly, but still the warmth was comforting and he wanted to stay forever. So he indulged himself a bit, sitting down as he watched the blood circle the drain. He didn’t want to risk shampooing his hair, it would probably sting. So he hoped the soft scrubbing and water would be enough. Eventually he had to get up, having probably spent too long in there already, and pushed himself up so he was standing again.

He woke up back on the floor. 

He coughed and sputtered as he accidentally inhaled the water pooling around him. His head hurt so much worse and for a second all he could do was groan and lay there. The water was starting to get cold and his shivers were making his headache worse by the second. After what felt like an eternity he gathered himself enough to be able to push himself up on his elbows and reach for the water to turn it off. He must have blacked out again. Goddammit old hag, just had to go for his fucking head didn’t she! Fuck, how long was he out for! There was no way he was going to be late. 

Finally making it out of the shower he drug himself to his room again. It was already 7:15. Dammit! He had only 15 minutes to leave. Rushing as much as he could, he towel dried his hair. Careful to avoid the bloody part. To his dismay it was still bleeding, and falling back on it after passing out again, probably didn’t help anything. He quickly pulled some gauze from the first aid kit under his bed and slapped it on there. Pulling a beanie over it to hide it. Did he wear beanies often? No. Would wearing one cause lots of questions and teasing from his group of idiots? Yes, but he didn’t have a choice right now. He tried to ignore that there were a lot of things he didn’t have a choice over happening lately. He went to pulling on the rest of his uniform and an oversized hoodie. Sue him, he wanted to be comfy while he felt like shit. He’d take it off before he got to class. He looked one final time in the mirror. Fuck he looked like hell, and fuck he only had 5 minutes left. Hurrying as fast as he could he dabbed some concealer on his now unnaturally darkened under eyes. Blending as best he could he rushed to leave. 

He had miraculously made it too UA, after almost falling asleep multiple times. God, he wished he’d had time to make some coffee before he left. He could barely keep his eyes open as he opened the door to his classroom, but he steeled his expression of annoyance, even if it was less heated than usual. His idiots bounded up to him as usual, and started chatting his ear off, which he did not appreciate with how his head hadn’t gotten any better. He’d taken some Aspirin on the train but it didn’t seem to be working.

“Ooh Blasty, are we trying out a new look today? Loving this grunge look, you can totally pull off beanies.” Ashido said as she was eying his hat, maybe his dark circles could pass as badly done eyeliner or something. 

“I thought eye bags were my thing.” Or not. Shinsou was near the group but not coming up to join. He had just entered their class so he hadn’t totally found his place, mostly keeping to himself, but he seemed to join when it was to make fun of Bakugou. Bakugou found he really didn’t like the guy.

“Mind your own fucking business Mindfuck! Don’t worry, no one's gonna take your shitty spot for number one insomniac, besides maybe Mr. Aizawa.” His insults definitely could have been better, but he was a little off his game. Shinsou just scoffed at him and turned back to whatever he was looking at on his phone. 

The others had gone on about something else pretty quickly, but Shitty hair was still staring at him. 

“What the fuck are you staring at?!” Kirishima just looked at him for a second before starting hesitantly. 

“You feeling alright man? You don’t look too good.”

“Well fuck you too.” Kirishima laughed a bit at that but that fucking look of concern, or maybe even pity lingered.

“Come on man, you know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“I’m fucking fine, just tired, didn’t sleep great.” And if that wasn’t the understatement of the century. He had spent the night on the cold bathroom floor, covered in his own sick and blood. He wasn’t about to share that with Kirishima though. He didn’t need him to know he had been weak, and if he told him about his mom he’d want to do something about it. He’d screw it all up. Katsuki had a plan, as soon as he turned 18 he would move out and never see the old hag again. He didn’t want to risk having to leave UA or deal with foster care. It was only 2 years. He could do it. Kirishima looked like he didn’t believe him, but before he could say anything else Aizawa decided to show up, and they all had to find their seats. 

He really couldn’t bother to pay attention in class. His head felt like it was going to explode, his stomach was doing flips and the pressure of the beanie on his wound hurt like a bitch anytime he moved. He’d tried to take some notes but every time he tried his eyelids threatened to slip closed. Eventually he sighed, it was almost lunch, maybe he could just close his eyes for a second.

“Hey, dude wake up.” He felt a hand jostling his shoulder gently, but the movement still caused him pain and the slight sway was making him nauseatingly dizzy.

“Fucking, stop it.” He said it without any real bite, but the hand stopped anyway. Cracking his eyes open from his position on the desk he was met with red eyes, and concerned brows. Shitty Hair, of course it was. What did he want? His head hurt too bad and the sudden light was making it worse, so he closed them again.

“I was just going to tell you it’s lunch, you wouldn’t want to sleep through it.” Fuckkk. There was no way he was getting up and going to the cafeteria, even the thought of food was making his mouth water, and not in a good way. The smell would definitely knock him out. 

“Go ahead, I’m not hungry.” Kirishima was quiet at that and for a second he thought maybe he’d left. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Now, Bakugou wasn’t dumb he wasn’t going to use his usual, I’m fine. Shitty Hair wouldn’t believe him. So he’d give him something to keep him off his back, otherwise, Shitty Hair would convince himself Bakugou was dying. Which he wasn’t even if he felt like it.  

“I just have a headache, I’m fine.” Okay so maybe his earlier statement wasn’t entirely true, but it really wasn’t a big deal. He’d dealt with worse in middle school, this was just his first time having to hide anything major at UA, which was a little harder since his friends seemed to pay closer attention. Fuck them honestly, they should just leave him alone. 

“Alright, if you say so, you sure you don’t want any company?”

“I’m sure I don’t need a fucking babysitter. Leave me alone.” He heard Kirishima's footsteps retreat after that, and maybe a little part of him was disappointed. He really didn’t need anybody to sit with him, but it would’ve been maybe a little nice to know someone was watching his back while he was sleeping. 

He’d almost managed to dose off again when something was placed in front of him. He startled upright much to his body's dissatisfaction. He swallowed down the groan as he turned his attention to whatever had come up to him. It was a bowl of what looked to be miso soup, and some plain rice. 

“You need to eat something.” Shitty hair said as he pulled his own chair up, sitting next to him. He seemed to have already eaten and was now turning his attention to his phone. Bakugou simply grunted as he picked up the spoon. The last thing he wanted to do was eat, but stupid Shitty Hair had gone to the effort of getting it so he’d try it at least. He tentatively raised the spoon to his mouth, and took a sip. It wasn’t terrible. He glanced over, and he could have sworn he saw a little smile on Kiri’s face. 

He managed a couple more spoonfuls and some bites of rice before he knew he was pushing the limits. He shoved the tray to the end of his desk and stared ahead. Thinking as his eyes started to droop again, making him startle back awake a couple times. He forced himself to keep his eyes open as he propped himself up by resting his chin on his palm. His stomach was acting up again and all he really wanted to do was escape it by falling asleep.

“You have about 15 minutes, you can sleep if you want. I'll wake you up when it’s time.” He didn’t want to admit how much of a relief it was to hear that. He was so tired. So tired he didn’t even realize when a small “thanks” escaped his lips. He drifted asleep right after, and dreamed of a soothing hand rubbing circles into his back. He found that strange, as no one had done that for him before. He allowed himself to revel in the gesture, and without realizing it, started to smile lightly, almost unnoticeably. 

Kirishima noticed though, as he continued to try to comfort his stubborn friend. 

Chapter Text

Just as he’d said, Kirishima had woken him up at the end of lunch. He still didn’t feel much better, and he still had to put too much effort into sitting up. He absentmindedly started to wrap an arm around his stomach as a particularly large wave of nausea overcame him, but Aizawa gave him a weird look so he forced himself to act as normal as possible. There were hero lessons next and he wasn’t going to miss out and fall behind. 

Aizawa seemed to let it go, and soon they headed towards the training grounds. He stood near the back of the group as Aizawa started talking about an obstacle course they were going to be doing. Kirishima was making his way slowly towards him and he already knew what he was going to say. 

He finally made his way over to him and stood there awkwardly for a few seconds before he started, “ Are you sure you wanna do this today man? If you have a headache I’m sure Aizawa will let you go back to the dorms early.”

“I’m not gonna die if I do this fucking easy ass obstacle coarse, I’m not gonna go back and fall behind everyone else.” Kirishima eyed him with concern written all over his face. It pissed him off.

“One days not gonna put you behind Bakugou, it’s not worth hurting yourself.” He was staring at him intensely by now, and Bakugou was almost tempted to give in. No, he wasn’t a coward, he’d rest when he got back to the dorms later. Meeting Kiri’s eyes he tried to reassure him.

“I’m fine, seriously.” Kirishima sighed at this but seemed to accept it.

“Alright man, but if it gets worse make sure you talk to a Recovery Girl or something.” Bakugou didn’t have to reply as the start of the obstacle race started. It looked like one on one races through a giant course, probably courtesy of Cementoss. Looking at the posted teams it seemed like he was going against Kaminari. He smiled to himself, yeah he had this in the bag. He had a bit before his turn and Shitty Hair was up first against Raccoon Eyes. 

He decided to walk over to his bag after Shitty Hair left, downing some more Aspirin. It was gonna be a little hard to run when he felt like he was already run over twice, so he needed a little extra to push him through it. He had managed to not throw up again, which he’d admit he was pretty proud of, but one hit to the stomach and he was done for. He figured any rest time he should take and sat against the wall to try to calm his stomach and block out the headache.

All too soon it was his turn, he groaned and stood up. Joined very quickly by Kaminari, who seemed to have far too much energy for it being this late in the day. Kaminari was talking away, not seeming to care too much that Bakugou was only responding with grunts, before they found themselves at the start line. Okay, he was gonna focus and crush this fucking coarse and stupid Pikachu’s face, he’d make sure of it. No stupid concussion was gonna make him fail. 

“Get ready to eat my dust Dunce Face!”

“Right back atcha man!” Bakugou rolled his eyes, which only succeeded in making him dizzy, as Kaminari just chuckled at the display. At that Aizawa’s voice boomed over the mic, and they officially started.

It was easy enough, the blasts helping to carry him along, each one made his head pound a little harder but he was determined to not let it stop him. He was ahead of Kaminari by a bit since he had to go over everything manually, but since there were a couple Bakugou couldn't shoot himself over he wasn’t as far ahead as he would like to be. He’d been focused on that while he was blasting over the rockwall, but when he turned back he’d been caught off guard just how close he was, he’d overshot the landing. He attempted to stick his legs out to catch himself, and usually this would be easy, his balance was impeccable. 

Today it was not. He lost his balance, foot slipping on the edge and causing him to body slam the narrow top of the rockwall. He vaguely registered his legs flaring up in pain, but the world was against him and too much of his body was hung over the edge, he wasn’t fast enough to grip onto it after the slam had caused him to almost puke on the spot and distracted him. Pretty soon he was heading face first into the ground. Not that he could tell really where he was facing since the new direction and force made him unbearably dizzyl but he managed to move around a bit and fell directly onto the floor on his back.

“Bakugou?!” Shouted Kaminari as he raced over from where he was on the course. Katsuki was struggling to breathe as he’d gotten his breath knocked out of him. Gasping harsh and short. His nausea and head were so bad he thought he was gonna pass out. He was staring at the blue sky, willing it to stop turning into tv static when something else filled his vision. His classmates had swarmed around him, asking if he was okay. 

He forced himself to sit up, slowly. He couldn’t have a repeat of this morning and he could already feel his mouth watering just from the slight movement. He forced himself to keep a grimace off his face. “I’mn fin'.. jus go theh win knockd ou mh.” His breath caught as his mind caught up with the way he had spoken. He didn’t understand why his words were coming out wrong. It seemed like there was a disconnect somewhere from what he was trying to say and what clumsily fell out of his mouth. It panicked him a little, he didn’t like not having control of what he was saying, and he really didn’t want to think about what would happen if he was stuck like this. Had he fucked up and hit his head again or something? They were all giving him weird looks, and he wanted nothing more than for a giant hole to just swallow him completely, god he sounded like fucking Pikachu when he goes over his limits. He found he had newfound empathy for the guy.

“Are you okay Blasty? You sound kinda funny.” It was really hard to keep focus at this point. His vision continued trying to go out, and he was gonna puke at any moment. Ashido was still giving him a weird look so he took a deep breath and focused on speaking, praying it didn’t come out garbled again. 

“I said I’m fine.” She seemed a little relieved at that, and he had to hide his massive relief with an annoyed growl. 

“You should go see Recovery Girl.” Ya, that wasn’t happening.

“I don’t need to go to Recovery Girl, what the hell?! I just tripped, no need to be so fucking dramatic!” His own booming voice did nothing to help his headache but no way in hell was he going to Recovery Girl. She’d notice something was off and he really didn’t want to deal with that. He didn’t need to go, his head would heal on its own and he'd be able to save his pride without having to make up an embarrassing lie. His vision had stopped darkening finally, so he managed to pull himself off the ground, and if he just so happened to use Pikachu’s arm as leverage, that was his business. Everyone was turned away from him to look at Aizawa so it was unlikely anyone had seen. 

“See I’m fucking fine, I was just distracted for a second!” Aizawa gave him a calculating glare but after a while seemed to sigh in defeat. 

“Next team you're up.” Bakugou took that as his cue to head back towards the locker rooms. He was finally losing grip on his nausea and he needed to get to the bathroom. His breath was quickening and he was getting sweaty again. The only thing worse than puking was doing it in front of someone, and he refused to do it. The walk was taking too long and his anxiety was steadily rising. His hands were starting to spark, and his heartbeat was in his ears. Shitty Hair, who apparently didn’t see his distress, called out to him. 

Stepping in his way and making him come to a stand still. His knees were starting to wobble, and his rapid swallowing wasn’t working anymore. He couldn’t take it anymore, not even listening to whatever Kirishima was trying to tell him, he pushed him out of the way and beelined for the locker rooms. Once he’d finally entered the locker room, he felt some relief, but his throat was too tight and his hands were still shaking. He had just made it to one of the stalls when he heard the door open. 

Oh, no. They were going to hear, and then they’d know. They’d think he was sick and weak, and he needed to stop but he couldn’t. He couldn’t breathe and he was starting to gag into his hand, if they heard they’d never look at him the same, he could try to yell at them to get out but he knew he could never get the words out in time. His legs finally gave out as he clung desperately to his throat, willing it to stop tightening. Clawing at his chest to stop the feeling of being trapped, and slow his heart. He was spiraling, in anxiety, embarrassment, and shame. He couldn’t breathe, and that didn’t stop anything. He heaved into the bowl forcing any breath he had managed out of his lungs, forcing him to take a deep breath to keep from suffocating, he was horrified when it turned into a sob. Suddenly he couldn’t stop, anytime he tried to hold his breath and quiet his cries another heave would force it out of him. His mind continued to spin, shouting at him to stop, to hide, but he couldn’t and whoever was out there would know. They would know.

When his body had finally stopped attacking him after what seemed like years, his hearing slowly came back in, he hadn’t even realized he’d lost it. There was pounding on the door and he realized his hands were smoking. Had he been firing off his quirk this whole time? He didn’t know and he didn’t care, but then he heard a voice accompany the bangs.

“BAKUGOU! Are you okay!?” Crap, he'd forgotten someone was in here with him, too focused on evening his breathing after his thoughts had ebbed away. God and it was Kirishima. He’d heard everything, and heard him crying, fuck, he’d never think he was manly now. What if he thought he was faking it for attention? No it’s Kirishima he wouldn't, right? He’d believe him. 

Right?

Chapter Text

When he had followed Bakugou into the locker rooms, he’d known something was off. It wasn’t the first time he’d been shoved aside by Bakugou, but there was something different about it this time. The look in his eyes seemed almost frantic, and it didn’t sit right with him to just watch him go. So he followed him, oblivious as to what he was about to walk in on. He had known something was wrong, he just didn’t think it would be this bad. 

The first thing he noticed when he’d entered the room was the slam of the stall. He knew Bakugou probably hadn’t wanted him to follow him. So he treaded softly, before calling out his name. He only wanted to make sure he was okay, but if he told him to butt out he wouldn’t force it. He didn’t answer, which only spiked his concern. Okay, maybe he just hadn’t heard him calling. Unlikely, but he could hope. He tried again, this time yelling a bit louder. Something was definitely wrong. There was no way Bakugou didn’t hear him unless something was wrong. He decided to stop hesitating, and walked right up to the stall door, knocking lightly. From here he could hear better. He heard Bakugou’s breathing pick up speed, and heard a dull thud. His mind was racing, was he more hurt than he looked? Was his headache so bad he passed out? He started knocking harder, Bakugou obviously needed help, if he was passing out he was past the point of hesitating and they needed to get him to Recovery Girl. There was silence for a while and he started to rattle the door as his panic for his friend grew. He inwardly cursed UA for getting quality locks and doors, when his attempts to pull it open were failing. He was focused on possible ways to break through it when he heard the tell tale signs of someone getting sick. Instantly he felt some relief flow through him, that at least, his friend wasn’t unconscious. Then he was alarmed for a different reason, something far worse. He heard crying.

Bakugou was crying, and if Bakugou was crying,  it had to be really bad. He didn’t want to imagine the pain he had to be in to make him sob like this. His heart hurt as he was forced to listen to the heartbreaking sound. He just wanted to be able to help, but he didn’t know what was wrong. Was he crying because of the pain? Or was there something else bothering him? He’d never have known if he was struggling with something. Since Bakugou never opened up to him about personal things, the stuff that really mattered. He wished he had trusted him enough to tell him something was wrong, if that’s what was happening, then maybe he’d know how to help. He felt helpless as he leaned his back against the wall, and listened, even if it was painful to hear his best friend hurting. He hoped his presence was at least some sort of reassurance. The sparks of Bakugou's quirk had yet to silence, and he took a second to think through his choices. He could leave, it’s probably what Bakugou would insist he do, he was positive he didn’t wanna be seen crying. Still he found he couldn’t bring himself to do so, Bakugou needed someone right now, and he was determined to be there for him. Even if he insisted he didn’t need anyone. So he stayed.

His mind was distracted by what he could possibly do to help when he realized he didn’t hear anything anymore. Not the gasping sobs, or the light booms of Bakugou’s quirk. 

“Bakugou?” Nothing.

“Bakugou, are you alright?” he said after lightly tapping the stall with his knuckles. Not even a sniffle answered him.

“BAKUGOU” Silence, making him knock harder.

“BAKUGOU! Are you okay?!” He heard a small gasp and his heart stopped beating through his chest. Seriously he was gonna have a heart attack at this point unless Bakugou answered him soon.

“..Shitty Hair?” Bakugou said, weakly but just the fact he had replied allowed Kirishima’s shoulders to relax a little. He allowed himself to sit back down with his back leaning against the stall door.

“Hey, ya man it’s me. Are you okay in there?” He knew it was kinda a stupid question. He’d just heard how not okay he was, but he needed him to answer, even if he already knew that he would say he was fine like he always did.

“I’m not sick.” Okay, not what he was expecting. It threw him off, making him take a couple seconds to recover. Thinking over his answer before he voiced it.

“Okay, what's wrong then?.” He had to tread lightly, if Bakugou was going to open up to him he needed to watch what he said. Insisting he was sick wouldn’t do either of them any favors. 

“Nothing, I must have landed wrong or something.” it was a weak lie, and he had to have known it, but he said it with conviction. So much for getting him to open up. 

“Bakugou…” Why couldn’t he just tell him how he was feeling?

“What! You think I’m fucking lying, think I’m faking this or some shit!” He felt like he was missing something, or maybe he should have held back his disappointment after getting his hopes up. Either way he had to fix this, he didn’t want Bakugou to think he thought he was lying about feeling bad. Even if he was probably lying about why he was in the first place.

“No, of course not! That doesn’t even make any sense, you didn’t even know I’d follow you in here. Besides I know you! You wouldn’t lie about something like that.” It seemed Bakugou was stumped at that and they sat in silence for a moment. This whole time they had been talking through the stall and he really wanted to be able to see that he was okay.

“Do you wanna head back to the dorms and get some rest? I think class is over any minute now.” Bakugou would want to avoid everyone he could so he wasn’t surprised to hear the lock click open after a few seconds. He stood up and stepped back to allow him to exit, it let him really look at Bakugou when he finally emerged. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen, and he was deathly pale, with an unnatural blush to his cheeks, and heavy eye bags. He looked so..sad. Before he knew it he was pulling Bakugou into his arms. He’d let go at the first sign Bakugou was uncomfortable, but Bakugou just leaned into him. He didn’t return the hug but he seemed to melt at the touch, tension leaving his shoulders. He could feel beneath his hands that Bakugou was still shaking, and the knowledge caused his own eyes to start watering.

“..If you were sick, it would be okay. I’d still believe you.” He heard Bakugou sigh against him, before whispering into the shoulder he was pressed against.

“I can’t be sick.” It hurt Kirishima to hear. What had made Bakugou so insistent that he couldn’t be sick, what made him react in such extremes? He wanted to reassure him that it was okay. That it wasn’t his fault if he was sick.

“Everyone gets sick.” He instantly thought he had messed up, as he felt Bakugou tense up in his arms, and pull away. Quickly increasing their distance. His signature scowl was back in place, and he turned to leave, but not before Kirishima could hear his answer. 

“I’m not allowed to be weak like everyone else.” It wasn’t said loudly, more under his breath than anything. He wasn’t even sure he was meant to hear it, but he had. And as he watched him walk away his heart continued to ache. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he had absolutely no idea how to help his friend.

He stayed in the locker rooms after that, waiting for his other classmates to return from training. He found himself once again lost in his head, running through their brief conversation and thinking about what he could have said differently. He hadn’t even noticed they’d returned until Kaminari had popped him on the back and asked what he was thinking about. He plastered on a smile and an upbeat energy as he chatted with Kaminari and Sero on their way back to the dorms. He vaguely remembers them talking about meeting up in Mina’s room later. He was too tired to listen honestly. All he wanted to do was go and take a nap after he ate. He managed an hour or so of sleep after he had fixed something to eat when he was woken up by a text message.

Mina: Movie Night! You all agreed so I don’t want any excuses, get your booties over here!

Kami: Me and my booty are on the way, I call first movie pick tho

Sero: No. You lost your picking rights after last time.

Kami: Are you really willing to risk your snacks over this? 

Sero: *Gasp* You wouldn’t

Kami: I SO would

Mina: typing…

Ugh he’d forgotten about Movie Night, he didn’t really want to go but he guessed maybe relaxing while watching whatever stupid show Kami picked was just what he needed. To be laughing and talking over some mindless show, so he dragged himself out of bed. On his way he passed by Bakugou’s room. He’d left him some rice outside his door when he’d made dinner but it hadn’t been touched. It worried him and he wanted to check up on him again, but he knew Bakugou probably needed space right now so he continued down the hall. 

He’d made it to Mina’s successfully, and he wasn’t even the last one there. Kami came in behind him with his hands full of snacks and plopped down beside where Kiri was on the bed. He liked Mina’s room, sure it was loud and in your face. But it was also just so her that you felt comfortable in it, it was familiar. He watched as his friends talked amongst each other, and kind of wished Bakugou was there. He always put up a brave face, and acted like he didn’t want to join. He would always make a big point of it actually, but after he eventually gave in, he would always seem to have fun. Joining their video game competitions, or simply watching a movie. Sometimes when he thought they weren't looking he’d even let his scowl fall away, and he’d look peaceful instead of angry. He’d always relished in how soft Bakugou looked at those moments, and as soon as they were over he wished more than anything for it to come back, for Bakugou to not feel like he had to put on a mask in front of them. 

“Hey, where’s Bakugou? Kiri you didn’t drag him over with you?” He didn't want to tell them Bakugou was sick since he so adamantly was against the idea. He didn’t want to breach his trust by revealing something he didn’t want revealed, but if he didn’t say anything then his friends would drag Bakugou over here.

“No, I figured I’d let him off for the night.”

“Nonsense, we can’t just leave Blasty out. He hasn’t even checked his texts. I doubt he even remembers it’s Movie Night.” Ashido said with a small pout. The other’s seemed to nod before Sero perked up and offered a suggestion.

“We should go over and invite him! We can even say he’ll get the first pick.” Kaminari was very offended by this and began to tell them so, but Kiri interrupted.

“I don’t know about that guys, he seemed to be in a bad mood.”

“When is Bakugou not in a bad mood? Either way there’s no harm in just asking.” Ashido said in response. He loved that they were trying to include Bakugou. They had been wary of him in the beginning but after a while they saw the way Bakugou was secretly caring just as he had. Right now though he wished they’d take the hint. 

They didn’t and soon enough they were in front of Bakugou’s door. Mina knocked, quite loudly on his door, but they didn’t get a response. Making Kami be the next one up, shouting a teasing, “Kacchan, open up!” through the door. To Kirishima’s surprise he heard Bakugou’s footsteps start coming towards the door. He was sure he was just going to ignore them, but sure enough Bakugou was soon standing in the doorway. He looked slightly better, or at least maybe some more color to his face. He was slightly jealous Bakugou still managed to look good when he was sick. 

“The fuck do you want?.”

“It’s movie night Bakugou, we have come to retrieve you.” Kami said as he exaggerated a bow in an obvious show.

“You’re not retrieving shit! I’m not fucking going.” 

“Pleaseee Blasty, it’s more fun with you there!” Ashido said as she made a puppy dog like face,

“You're damn right it is, cuz I’m the best!” They lit up at that before he immediately followed it up with a “Still not fucking going though.” 

“Ugh, come on man! You can even pick the movie!” Sero says as he looks directly at Kaminari, giving him a teasing grin. Kami didn’t say anything but returned his look with a glare. Now if this were anyone else, at this point, or even way before this they would have given up. Got the point that he wwasn't interested, but this was Bakugou, and the convincing happened anytime there was an outing, and every time Bakugou would give in eventually. He wanted to give his friend an out, he wouldn’t admit it but he would have a hard time turning their invitation down for real.

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to come dude, we get it if you're tired.” Bakugou turned to look at him, his crimson eyes staring fiercely into his own, puffing up his chest as if he was just challenged. God, I just keep messing up, he thought to himself. He’d liked to have thought he knew how Bakugou worked, how to talk to him. Lately, though, all his attempts at comfort only seemed to make things worse. 

“I’m not tired.” he said in a stern voice, before slightly softer he added, “Fine, I’ll go.” His friend group cheered at that, and sent him questioning looks at the grimace on his face after Bakugou’s acceptance. He wiped his expression and put on a smile. Look at the bright side, he told himself, now he could keep an eye on Bakugou and make sure he was okay. So they started to make their way back to Mina’s room. He noticed Bakugou was falling behind a little, so he matched his pace so that they were walking side by side. Bakugou didn’t break the silence, so he didn’t either, they both just listened to the conversations around them. Bakugou still hadn’t taken off his beanie, which was a little suspicious. He’d never worn one before and his sudden affinity with the thing was out of character. It was simple and all black, and did look good on him, but it wasn’t even cold outside and they had been back at the dorms for quite a while. He wasn’t sure if he should bring it up or not, if he was just having a bad hair day or something he didn’t want to embarrass him. He couldn’t help but keep looking at it though as he thought about it. Bakugou seemed to notice, judging by the blush on his face, it didn’t seem like a fever blush either. This one seemed more like embarrassment, maybe? It was just a slight tint in his cheekbones, and a slight redness to his ears, from which he could only guess was caused by being stared at, or maybe from what happened earlier. Still Bakugou blushing was a sight to behold, he’d never seen Bakugou blush, didn’t even think he was capable, he’d had to do a double take to even make sure it was there in the first place. 

He was still busy thinking about it and glancing back at him periodically when they arrived at Mina’s. As promised Bakugou got to pick, but he ultimately said he didn’t care, making Kaminari the ultimate winner of their little spat. They ended up watching Sharknado 3 , he wasn’t sure why they were starting at three but he didn't question it. They made it through to the end of the movie, the ending in particular was his favorite. The wife gave birth in a shark, falling from space, and then cut open the shark with her chainsaw arm and pushed the baby through the hole she’d made. He found it utterly hilarious . Bakugou and Mina didn’t seem to agree. Mina was more worried about the poor baby she was shoving through shark meat, and Bakugou was entirely enraged about how the logistics didn’t work and the lady should be dead. He noticed his argument seemed to not last as long as they usually do, and he wasn’t yelling quite as loud. In fact by the end of his argument he’d grown rather pale, and he noticed his arm was clenched around his waist. He’s sure the other’s noticed this as well as no one taunted him into another yelling match. No one really felt like watching another movie right after that, it was too much to process. So they decided to play some video games. 

They decided on Mario Kart, something they all liked to play pretty often. Bakugou held first, followed by Sero, Mina, Kirishima, and Kaminari. He wasn’t great at it, but he was just glad he wasn’t in last, poor Kami. They sat on the floor around the tv, Sero had brought in his console and controllers for them to play on. They were at the foot of Mina’s bed. Mina was on the right, while Kirishima was to the left and Bakugou sat between them. Sero, and Kami sat slightly in front of Mina and Kirishima, but didn’t obstruct their view. The first red flag was that Bakugou didn’t immediately talk smack, and he watched as everyone turned towards Bakugou when it didn’t seem like any was coming. Bakugou didn’t meet any of their gazes, he seemed to be sweating and was squinting at the screen. They started the game anyway, all racing to not be last, he’d been so engrossed in his own game, that he hadn’t even thought to look at Bakugou’s screen. The places were posted and he searched the names. Sero had come in first. Which wasn’t surprising; he and Bakugou often flip flopped first and second, but his concern only grew as his eyes continued down the list of names. Only to find Bakugou’s at the bottom. He had gotten last place, and Bakugou never gets last place. If that wasn’t a red flag in itself Bakugou didn’t even seem mad about it. He just sat there, arms wrapped around his stomach and squinting so hard his eyes were barely open. The others seemed to be worried as well as they all looked at him, concern written all over their faces.

“I’m getting kinda tired. Why don’t we watch another movie? I'll turn out the lights.” Sero said after a minute. It did seem like the lights were bothering Bakugou and he was glad Sero was observant enough to notice. Sure the screen probably wasn’t much better but if they had tried to tell Bakugou to go back to his dorm, he wouldn’t have listened. They put on a random movie, some romcom and passed around some blankets again. He kept an eye on Bakugou who seemed content for now, so he allowed himself to pay more attention to the movie and he was doing just that when Ashido had whispered his name.

“Kiri?” He looked over only to find Bakugou slumped over on Mina’s shoulder. That was the last red flag he could take. Bakugou would never allow himself to fall asleep on someone, not unless he was too out of it or in too much pain to care. Mina seemed to know that as she made eye contact with him, fear hidden in her expression. Not daring to move nor break eye contact. The movie had been paused at Mina’s whisper and the other two were listening carefully, seeming just as shocked.

“Is he..ok?” She finally said. He just stared at her worried expression, he had to tell them now, right? It was too late to try to spare Bakugou’s feelings.

“Ya man, you definitely seemed to know something when we were trying to invite him over.” Sero said from where he’d moved next to Mina.

“I..I don’t think he’s doing too well.” Kiri finally said. He couldn’t handle trying to figure this out all by himself anymore, maybe they would know what to do. How to help. Hopefully Bakugou will forgive him. “He said he had a headache in class, and after training he got sick and he seemed… really upset about it. He insisted he wasn’t sick, actually he said it more like he couldn’t be sick. I tried to tell him that it was okay, but he ended up brushing me off. I just don’t know how to help him..”  He’d made sure he whispered it, so he didn’t wake him, but Bakugou seemed to be exhausted. Even in his sleep his brows were creased in a frown, and he’d occasionally groan as if he was in pain. They were all silent after Kirishima’s confession, it was likely that they didn’t know what to do either. He watched as Mina turned to look at Bakugou. She sighed then comfortingly soothed the creases in his brows and began stroking the hair away from his forehead. He sighed softly in his sleep and she smiled a little.

“We just have to be there for him, show him that he can rely on us. We can try to comfort him if he seems like he’s hurting, but there’s not much we can do unless we know what’s wrong. We’re just going to have to watch out for him, and make sure he gets help if he needs it.” They all knew getting Bakugou to get help was easier said than done, but at least he had people watching out for him, and if there’s even the slightest chance he needs help, they’ll be there.

Chapter Text

He woke up in his dorm, staring at the ceiling. He struggled as he tried to force his brain to work again. He doesn’t remember walking back to his room. He thinks distantly that this should worry him more, but it doesn’t. He’s too tired to care. He drags his eyes to the alarm clock sitting beside him.“7:35” it reads, and he groans out loud. The last thing he wants to do is get up right now. His whole body felt like lead, his stomach had settled but in such a way that he knew moving would pull it back towards misery. His head had yet to stop hurting but that wasn’t anything new. With the wound he still had yet to look at being left untreated, it wasn’t surprising it still hurt like a bitch. He knew he’d have to force himself to clean it thoroughly, and probably stitch it. That could wait a little though, he didn’t trust himself not to pass out in the middle of it. “7:40” the minutes were ticking by and he just watched them, and couldn't find the motivation to move. His mind was screaming at him to get up, that he was going to be late but his heart continued beating slowly and his eyelids pulled heavily. God he felt like he could sleep for a fucking year. What if he just didn't get up? It seemed so easy at the moment, so much easier than pulling his body off of the comforting mattress. He breathed in deeply as he tried to distract his mind, from his own thoughts. He continued with his inner turmoil until a voice pulled him back to reality. It seemed to be spoken through the door, and was calling his name after a soft knock, 

“Um, Bakugou? Are you still in there?” Shit, was Shitty Hair waiting this whole time? Guilt suddenly started to crush his conscience. God, talk about selfish, Wallowing in self pity while making trouble for others. That’s just fucking like you, to be a pathetic little bitch. The thought drifted into his mind, slowly like a wave but with so much power behind it, he couldn’t focus on anything else but the words. How true they were. It always sounded kinda like his mom, mingled with his own voice. Usually, he could push the voice away, he was always striving for the best. He was always able to prove to the voice it was wrong, lately though everything it said seemed to be true. It was selfish and weak of him to sleep in, continue to lay in bed. It was cowardly that he couldn’t even bring himself to look at the injury he had been the fault of. He’d have to take care of that tonight.

He suddenly remembered that he had yet to respond and with quick movements he went to stand up. The action caused his vision to turn to static and after a few more steps to where he thought his dresser was, it had turned black. He kept moving forward though, even as he was walking blind. He blinked and felt as the world flipped on its axis. He couldn’t see so he didn’t know if he was still standing or not, until he collided with the hard floor. Slowly his vision returned as he tried to reorient himself. His eyes stung, as he held back frustrating tears. He can’t even stand up now? How much weaker could he get? He wouldn’t let himself cry though, not if he could help it. He took a deep breath and steadied his shaking limbs, and pulled himself up using the dresser. Apparently, Shitty Hair had heard the commotion as he was knocking and calling out to Bakugou again.

“I’m fucking coming, hold on!” Crap, he really had to hurry up, he’d worry about whatever the everloving fuck that little episode was later. He didn’t really have time to shower, so he just yanked his uniform on. He winced as he pulled the undershirt over his head, but kept the beanie firmly on his head the whole time. He promised himself that tonight he would look at it. But not right now. He’s sure his hair looks a mess, and he didn’t have time to put on any concealer. Oh well, he couldn’t do anything about it now, so he didn’t even bother looking in the mirror. Hastily, he opened the door and was met with way more faces than he was counting on. They were all fucking there. Shitty Hair, Pikachu, Raccoon Eyes, and Tape face. All standing there giving him smiles. Which dulled slightly as they took in his appearance, he felt his cheeks burn slightly, he knew he looked like shit, it was embarrassing. He really needed to quit that, or someone would start noticing and he was not about to expose the fact that he blushes so fucking easily to everyone. 

“The fuck are you all doing here?” he half shouted, he didn’t have the energy nor the willpower to make it much louder. His head would certainly thank him, as it was still killing him. The pain was throbbing in his entire head, and stabbing pains would shoot out every couple of seconds. Once he got to class he’d down a couple extra painkillers. That’d probably help, or at least he hoped it would. 

“What do you mean! We just wanna walk with our best bro!” Shitty Hair answered. It seemed suspicious to him. Sure, Kirishima and him walked to class sometimes, but that was just because they were neighbors. This was very much premeditated. They all had to have talked about it beforehand, plus he was late. So they specifically waited for him, something they never bothered to do before. What changed? Did they notice something was off? Ya they’re probably pitying you for being such a weak shit, you couldn’t even finish a fucking obstacle coarse. 

That would make sense, he’d forgotten about that shit show. He wished he could go back to that bliss. Where he’d forgotten just how much he’d revealed. And he couldn’t have just left it at that. Nope, he had to go cry in the bathroom and be sick right where Shitty Hair could hear. He’d even let himself be hugged afterwards. God, he was just so tired. So worried that Kirishima would think he was lying, the relief that he didn’t, had almost made him let his guard down. He wouldn’t let himself do that again. He needed to be stronger, he didn’t need to depend on anyone. Even if the hug had helped, and had been the first one he’d had in a very long time. His dad used to hug him, when he was really small. He’d long since stopped, in fact he hardly even looked at him anymore. He doubted he’d even care if his mom ended up killing him one day. Just look at the mess and utter a disappointed ”Mitsuki..” for having been made to put effort into covering it up. In retrospect, pity seemed better than indifference so he forgave his friends this one time. He simply huffed at them before stomping down the hallway. He didn’t have to wait for them to follow, they were right at his heels. His limbs still felt like lead so he slowed his movements just a tad. He made a note to do extra stretching before training. 

He risked a glance in the others direction. They seemed like they wanted to say something but were holding back. He hated that they were holding their tongue around him. What did they think he couldn’t handle whatever the fuck they were gonna say! 

“Spit it the fuck out.” The rest looked at him questioningly and he rolled his eyes. “Whatever you wanna say just fucking say it!” but they just continued to look apprehensive and it was starting to seriously tick him off, he was about to make a bigger scene when Racoon eyes finally started talking.  

“Um, you know Blasty I’ve been wondering why you’ve been wearing that beanie lately?” What a stupid question, that was what they were fretting about asking? He didn’t believe it for a second. 

“I just fucking felt like it.” What else were they expecting him to say? ‘Ya my mom smashed me into a counter and busted my head open, but I don’t want anyone to find out, so I’m wearing this.’ Not happening. They just seemed to nod at his non answer and the rest of the walk they simply talked between themselves. He appreciated that at least, even if the noise was slightly grating on his nerves. They made it to class on time, barely. As soon as the last of their group had taken their seats Aizawa was coming in and calling the class to attention. He drawled on for a while, not saying anything of true importance before promptly passing out into his sleeping bag again.

The noise in the classroom started out quiet but was slowly rising as time went on. They weren’t allowed to leave their seats while homeroom was still in session, but it didn’t stop anyone from talking loudly with anyone sitting near them. He was trying to read up on some of the material he had accidentally missed by not paying attention, but his concentration kept getting interrupted by someone else’s voice. It was starting to get on his nerves, and the longer he sat there stewing, the more it grew. He knew it was irrational, they weren’t doing anything wrong. It didn’t stop his vision being clouded with red as his anger grew. Suddenly he was at his tipping point and he was barely keeping himself back. It was at that point Deku decided to poke him, and call out his name rather loudly. He always did have the worst timing. 

“What the fuck do you want, you stupid fucking shitty ass useless nerd!” He knew it was overkill, definitely too many profanities in one sentence. It didn’t stop them from leaving his mouth though. He knew the useless part hurt especially bad. Deku was just staring at him with wide eyes, but he seemed to grow a backbone and was soon looking back at him angrily.

“What is your problem Kacchan?!” 

“What’s my fucking problem?! What’s yours? Are you so fucking desperate for my attention you can’t keep your hands to yourself? Fuckin leave me alone already! And everyone else needs to shut up too! I can’t even hear myself think!” He knew it was too much, he knew but he couldn’t seem to stomp down his immense frustration. He didn’t even know why he was so angry, it didn’t make any sense. Iida apparently decided it was too much too, and decided to get in the middle of it. 

“Bakugou! That is no way to speak to your classmates! Midoriya and everyone else are doing nothing wrong. The only one here who is causing an issue is you.” He knew it was true but it didn’t stop him from feeling downright outraged. Who the fuck did he think he was, talking down to him like that. He was about to retort when Round Face decided to speak up.

“Ya, Deku didn’t do anything wrong, you're just being rude! You do know the world doesn’t revolve around you right?” He was about to freak the fuck out on her when in his rush to stand up he bumped his head into Iida’s arm that had been waving around, he had moved to get in between Deku and himself, so much for following the rules Class Prez. Immediately his head started pounding so hard he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think apart from the blinding pain he was experiencing. He sank back into his chair and held his head in his hands. His eyes starting to water without his permission. Her next words muffled as he barely kept himself from groaning out loud by holding what little breath he still had. 

“Covering your ears because you don’t like what I say doesn’t make it less true Bakugou.” 

“Um, guys let’s just let this go alright?” Kirishima spoke up when Bakugou again didn’t speak. Uraraka was about to come to her friend's aid again and continue speaking up for him when Deku put a hand on her arm. Effectively shutting her up, and he again tried to call out to Bakugou. Softer this time. Concern being very evident in his eyes as he did so. Round face now having calmed down seemed to take a closer look at Bakugou and realized just out of character this was for their explosive classmate. They all stopped to stare at him, not that he noticed. They waited for him to reply with his usual ‘fuck off', tensions high throughout the classroom. That wasn’t the reply they got. 

“..sorry.”

___________

The entire room was silent as what had just reached their ears started to register. What had just happened? First Kacchan was yelling and seemed super upset about something and the next he was apologizing?! He could count on one hand how many times Kacchan had apologized since they’d known each other, and none of those had been for something as simple as yelling at him too strongly. He could tell something was wrong as soon as he had backed down from the fight in the first place, but this was sending off all kinds of red flags in his head. He’d ignored the first warning signs, and he was cursing himself for having done so. 

Not seeing him at lunch, his fall in heroics class. He was allowed to have an off day. But this, this had to be much worse. It had kinda been what he wanted to ask him about in the first place. He looked terrible, his dark circles were darker then he’d ever seen them, and his hair was sticking up all funny under the beanie. Which was also a bit weird, he never wore one before. He scanned all over Kacchan’s body, looking for anything off. He was a bit pale, and he had been holding his head before he had slumped down and ended up lying on his arms. Which was another off thing, was he seriously asleep right now?! Maybe he just had a really bad headache? Had he hurt himself in his fall or was it before that? 

He was about to stand up, go over to stand in front of him and get a better look when Aizawa was suddenly waking up. Seriously?! How did he sleep through that? But apparently he had, as he just left the classroom, signaling the start of their next period. He’d have to figure this out later, when he could actually talk to him and look him over closer. He looked around the room only to find more concerned faces. 

Uraraka seemed at least semi guilty as she eyed Kacchan’s still form from her desk. She had to know Kacchan’s sudden apology was out of character as well. Some other classmates seemed somewhat concerned or at least confused, but quickly moved on as the next lesson commenced. Bakugou’s friends though, they seemed more on edge, eyes rarely leaving the other. He made a mental note to ask them if they knew anything. He glanced back down at his desk. His detailed notes staring back at him. He peeked over to Kacchan’s desk where his notes were peaking out. They seemed pretty scarce, and messy unlike his usual tedious notes. He cursed himself for being too distracted to notice anything was wrong with him. He felt bad for yelling at him earlier. He’d thought he was just lashing out before, but if his reason was he was in pain he could have been nicer. Maybe not let his friends speak up for him so harshly. He hadn’t known though, how could he! He never told him anything! Even if their relationship had been getting better recently it was more of a rival relationship, and Bakugou wouldn’t want him to know any of his weaknesses. He was still going to help him though, even if he wouldn't admit they were friends. They were and always would be friends and friends watched each other's backs. He’d get to the bottom of this, even if Kacchan didn’t want him too. 

__________

When the blinding and all encompassing pain had passed, he didn’t remember anything besides the pain in his head. Ah his mom had probably hit him again, he didn’t know what for but he probably deserved it. She was probably yelling at him to apologize, even if he didn’t know what he had done wrong. He always did, even if he didn’t mean it. Just empty words. It’s why he preferred to apologize using actions rather than words. Words didn’t mean anything, anyone can say something and not follow through. He did it anyway though, it would make her happy. It sounded far off and muffled to his ears, but knowing she’d be satisfied at the display he allowed himself to relax, and sink into his arms. It was comforting, and although his head still hurt it waned just a bit. Maybe if he tried, he could imagine they were his friends arms. He felt safer that way, and he wasn’t in the right state of mind to care that the thought was cowardly. He knew he was gonna pass out, he’d done it enough times lately to know when it was coming, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at that moment. He just waited for it to take him. The quiet sounded nice, he didn’t have to worry about anything when he was passed out. Didn’t feel guilty for wasting time he could be using to train or study. It was nice, even if his world felt upside down and he was spinning uncontrollably.

The next time he came to, he was immediately confused. Where was his mom, wasn’t she just here? Wasn’t he at home? Maybe he was dreaming? It seemed the most likely, and searching beyond that memory, he did remember yelling at Deku and a couple other extras so he probably fell asleep after that or something. He looked around and registered that they were in the middle of Present Mic’s lesson. That had to mean he’d been asleep for two periods already. Had no one noticed he was asleep, or tried to call on him?. It seemed extremely unlikely to him, but he’d take the small mercies he could get. The next period was lunch and although he didn’t want to eat, he didn’t really want to stay in his seat either, so when the bell finally rang he gladly got up to go to the cafeteria. He wanted a change of pace at least. 

Immediately, he was swarmed by his squad . Kirishima even going as far as to wrap his arm around his shoulders. He shrugged it off, but Shitty Hair just went with it, still beaming at him. 

“Hey dude, you coming with us to the cafeteria? We could always bring you something back if you don’t feel like going.” He knew Kirishima was still probably worried about him, after his little episode earlier. He was smiling, but it seemed wary, and he was absentmindedly rubbing at his neck. It was a habit he had seemed to pick up, and it made him very easy to read.

“Na, I feel like going. Hurry the fuck up or the line will get too long.” 

“Alright man if you’re sure.” He didn’t seem convinced, but Bakugou wasn’t about to dwell on it, and was soon stomping out of the room and down the hall. As expected they all followed behind him, annoyingly close. He made it to the cafeteria doors without incident. That was until he opened them. Instantly, warm air hit his face, and the smell of so many foods mixing in the air almost caused him to gag. He held back though and held his breath as best he could. It was hard though when his shitty group kept trying to talk to him. 

“Hey Blasty, are you ready for the test coming up” He hadn’t known about any tests coming up, but that didn’t matter. He’d ace anything they put in front of him. He’d just have to stay up late a couple nights to do extra studying, no big deal. Oh ya because you’ve just been so on top of things lately, talking big when you can’t back it up. Admit it, you're going to fail because lately you’ve been useless. He refused to listen to those thoughts, even if a part of him found them true. No, he’d get over whatever this was. His head would heal. He’d get back on top of his hero studies, and his classwork. He’d get better, he was fine . It didn’t matter that he couldn’t control his anger, or that his head was killing him, his nausea made him dizzy, and he couldn’t control his shivering sometimes. Of course he told them such, can’t have them looking down on him. 

“Of course I’m fucking ready, who do you think you’re talking to?!” 

“That’s our Blasty, always prepared!” Raccoon eyes cooed.

“Ooh maybe we should do a study session, because I am NOT.” Pikachu said from behind him, Tape face just solemnly nodding beside him. God they were such lost causes. He’d help them if they asked though, they probably deserved it for putting up with him. It was nearing his turn in line, so he turned his attention back to the food. He still didn’t feel like eating, but he’d grab something to force himself to eat anyway. He hadn’t had anything today and he knew he needed to eat something. So he grabbed the same Miso soup and rice he had the day before, when Shitty Hair had brought it to him. He usually hated eating the same thing twice, but for some reason he didn’t mind this time. His group continued to chatter even as they all had their food and were making their way to a table. He’d stay for a while, it was nice having some sense of normalcy. 

That was until the chatter turned into nails on a chalkboard. Not literally, but that’s what it felt like. He needed to get out of there before it got too bad, and he ended up snapping at one of his friends. He got up wordlessly, not even replying when they asked him where he was going. It wasn't unusual for him to disappear, although it wasn’t often. They’d probably think something was up but if he responded now he’d come off pissed. Not that he wasn’t but they didn’t need to know that. He put away his tray, only a couple bites taken out of it, and pushed on towards the door. Until someone was stepping in front of him.

“Wow you look like shit. The beast of 1A finally falling? Good to know even you can be brought down by something as simple as a stomach bug.” Monoma stated from his place in front of him, blocking his escape exit.

“I’m not fucking sick moron! Now move the hell out of my way, before I fucking make you!” Monoma just glared and smirked, not moving an inch. He was seething, how dare he try to imply he was weak! He’d show him fucking weak! If his anger was a steady stream before, it was a raging river at the moment, threatening to spill over if given the chance. He moved towards him, getting in his face.  

“You're not sick? Then what pray tell is the problem. Are you crumbling under the pressure? Can’t take it anymore? I can’t say I’m surprised, 1B has always been the superior class, no one in 1B would be so weak..” weak. Weak. Weak.  He didn’t register his friends coming up behind him, trying to make Monoma shut up. He was so angry he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t even feel. “Or maybe.. It’s an act. Do you need more attention? No recent villain attacks to shine your class in the spotlig-” 

He stared down at his hands, some red substance lightly coating his knuckles. He vaguely registered that his hand hurt. He glanced up and was met with the eyes of concerned classmates. What were they looking at? Were they looking at... him? He managed to tear his eyes away from the one’s staring at him. What they met next was even worse. 

Monoma sprawled on the ground. Hand clutching his nose, as crimson red blood gushed from underneath it. He was staring back at him with a horrified expression. Had he really done that? He was horrified to realize he had, in fact, been the one to attack Monoma. His dazed eyes registered that Kirishima was making his way towards him, it was all too much. He didn’t understand why he'd done that, and so he did the only thing he felt he could do. 

He ran.

He didn’t know where he was going. He just knew he needed to get out . He ran quite a ways, and looking around once he couldn't run anymore, he seemed to be in the outer forest part of UA. It was as good a place as any so he sat against a tree and tried to figure out what had happened. His emotions were swirling inside him, like they couldn’t quite decide what he was supposed to feel, so he just felt them all as if they were cranked up as high as they could go. He clutched his hand to his chest as he tried to calm down his heart and his nausea.

“Bakugou.” He was startled from his thoughts by the voice, causing him to quickly stand and turn toward the voice. Standing not that far away was Aizawa. He didn’t want to know how his teacher had found him so quickly, all he could think was how he was going to be expelled. He couldn’t even complain, he’d done this to himself. He averted his eyes, and somehow his teacher took that as incentive to come closer, now only a good two strides away from him. 

“Would you like to tell me what happened?” He didn’t know what had happened, why he had gotten so mad, but if he said that he’d surely think there was something wrong with him and expel him anyway, so he opted to stay silent. Aizawa waited a couple seconds before sighing.

“Bakugou, if you don’t tell me what happened I can only guess from my point of view. From where I stand it looks as though you attacked another classmate, unprovoked. Or at least that’s his side of the story. Tell me, is that true?” He stayed quiet. It wasn’t true, he guesses he did attack Monoma but it was definitely not unprovoked, or at least he thinks so.

“Bakugou, you know you can get in serious trouble for this. You're lucky we have Recovery Girl here who fixed Monoma’s broken nose. Otherwise it could have been a lot worse for you. I’ll ask you one last time, Bakugou. Is there anything going on I should know about?” He managed to shake his head no, and Aizawa just leveled him with a calculating look. Eventually he sighed again, and suddenly Bakugou was regretting not saying anything. Was he going to expel him because he didn’t answer? And a small part of him even wondered if he’d punish him, to make him understand what Monoma had felt.  

“You're on cleaning duty for 2 weeks, and you’re not allowed to be involved in Heroics training starting now. That’s not to say you won’t do it at all though. After school tomorrow and for the rest of your sentence you’ll be attending extra classes as well.” That was it? He wasn’t going to be expelled, or worse? He sighed in relief, until his next sentence registered in his mind. “I will also be calling your parents.” 

His heart stopped, and his breath halted. He didn’t want to know how his mom would react to this, the last time he’d had to be punished for fighting was back in middle school, and he thought he was going to die. Now that he was at UA in the hero course, she wouldn’t let this slide. He desperately wanted to ask his teacher not to, beg him even. But his pride wouldn’t let him. He just stared straight ahead, for the rest of lunch, and the rest of the day. It didn’t matter anyway he wasn’t allowed to do heroics and that was all they did after lunch. He stayed there for a long time, he wasn't even sure how long it had really been, he was too lost in his thoughts. Could he even trust himself anymore? What if he ended up hurting his friends in his rage? No, he’d never. Even with Monoma it was because he was asking for it, right? He felt like he was going fucking insane. He was called out of his downward spiral when he realized his phone had been buzzing for a while. He pulled it out of his pocket, squinting at the bright light when he was surrounded by darkness. What he saw made his blood run cold, and his stomach plummet into his feet.

Hag: 27 Missed Calls

Chapter Text

He knew something was wrong, while Bakugou did hold the spot for Problem Child #2, he wasn’t one to blatantly attack another student, and unprovoked at that. He’d noticed the boy was looking a bit under the weather, he was even starting to get concerned. He seemed to be taking naps at his desk, and looking quite pale. He thought that maybe he had been working himself too hard, maybe he had a cold or something. It was hard to tell without asking him directly, and he liked to think he understood Bakugou to some degree. He knew he wouldn’t take any help that he felt was forced onto him, and would instantly put his guard up if asked, so he waited for him to come to him first. 

Of course if it took a turn for the worse, he’d make him go see Recovery Girl immediately, but it didn’t seem to warrant that yet. He had tried to talk to him after the incident with Monoma, maybe he could get him to open up. I didn’t work. He just didn’t know how to talk to Bakugou. His personality was just so different from himself, and students he’d had in the past. He decided to go the direct approach, but it failed as he received radio silence in response. That in itself was worrying for Aizawa, Bakugou was usually brash and unapologetic in his loudness. It struck him as odd that he hadn’t even tried to defend himself against the allegations. He didn't really want to punish Bakugou without a full story, but on the chance he was just lashing out, he needed to make him understand that this behavior wasn’t okay. He decided to start keeping a closer eye on him anyway. The incident, while unfortunate, did present the opportunity he was looking for. 

By banning Bakugou from hero training, he hoped the kid would be able to get at least a little rest, and he could monitor Bakugou closely during the extra lessons. During their talk he’d tried to read his expressions, but he had a glare, and blank expression on his face the entire interaction, it only seemed to change when he mentioned that he’d need to talk to his parents. It wasn’t anything big, in fact he probably wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t already studying his face closely. His eyes lost the glare he was holding steadily and instead was replaced by something akin to panic. It was a somewhat normal reaction, most kids didn’t want their parents to know when they were in trouble. It seemed like there was more to it though, but when he further prompted Bakugou he didn’t get a response, he wasn’t even looking at him anymore. He decided to just let him be for now, and check in tomorrow. So he headed back to class, it was nearing the end of lunch and he still had a class to teach. Immediately he was approached by Kirishima, and a few other students asking where Bakugou was and what was going on. He thought it would be best to leave Bakugou alone for now so he simply told them Bakugou was barred from training due to what happened at lunch, and that they should focus on their own studies, there was a test Friday after all. The rest of the day went by without a hitch, even if it seemed extremely long. And soon enough he was faced with his last task for the day. He’d pushed it off as long as he could but it was inevitable. He had to call Bakugou’s parents. 

________

He awoke to something wet on his face. He tried to ignore it, he just wanted to go to sleep again, he felt the pull of anxiety in the back of his subconscious, and he didn’t want to fully face it yet. He turned onto his side, pulling the pillow in towards himself, when again he felt something moist on the pillow. Still half asleep he succumbed to curiosity. The light made his head pulse, and in turn it took a second for his eyes to open again. On his white pillow case there seemed to be some sort of pink liquid. Slightly sitting up he attempted to figure out where it was coming from. His hair was slightly damp but other than that there didn’t seem to be any place where the liquid had come from. He was woken up fully by the sound of his phone ringing. He turned to reach for his phone, he didn’t know who’d be calling this early, when his eyes met the contact name. He suddenly remembered why he’d felt that lingering anxiety, the feeling that had slightly tainted his dreams all night. They came back full force, as he listened to the ringtone. He couldn’t bring himself to push the answer button. Really, how much worse could he make it at this point? He’d already signed his death certificate when he’d not picked up the first time. It finally went silent, and he risked a look at his notifications. He scrolled down the long list to her most recent ones: 

Hag: STOP BEING A LITTLE BITCH AND ANSWER THE GODDAMN FUCKING PHONE. I SWEAR TO GOD KATSUKI  

Hag: YOU WANNA EXPLAIN TO ME WHY I GOT A CALL FROM FUCKING UA ABOUT YOU PUNCHING A KID KATSUKI! I THOUGHT WE WERE OVER YOU BEING A PATHETIC WASTE OF SPACE. AFTER EVERYTHING WE’VE DONE FOR YOU! YOU JUST CAN’T STOP FUCKING IT UP AND BEING AN UNGRATEFUL BRAT CAN YOU.

Hag : You better get your ass over here after school on Friday. Don’t even think of trying to get out of it, I can easily stop paying for your expensive school if you don’t start showing me some fucking respect.

The sudden lack of caps scared him more than any of the texts before it. That could only mean she was past pissed. Her threat to take him out of school suddenly seemed very real. He wanted more than anything to not go home on Friday. He was still dealing with the repercussions of last time, but he didn’t have a choice. The thought suddenly reminded him of his wound as it seemed to burn even worse. He needed to shower and dress the wound. Someone would definitely notice if his hair got even worse, and he would not add smelling bad to his list of transgressions. But the mere thought of looking at it made his stomach queasy, and the thought of water touching the wound sounded like torture, but he needed to get on with it or he was going to be late. 

Reluctantly, he got up from his bed. His entire body hurt and walking was already a chore. He stepped into the bathroom and slowly peeled off his sweat soaked clothes, he didn’t really understand why he was still shivering when he was this sweaty. The last thing to remove was the beanie, and the thing that he was dreading the most. He hadn’t changed the bandages since he’d stuck them on there two days ago. He removed the hat slowly. He winced but overall it was bearable. 

That was until he tried to remove the absolutely soaked through bandage. He’d used gauze that had sticky edges and as he tried to lift it up it pulled at the hair surrounding the wound harshly. He had to stop and breathe deeply before continuing to try to rip it off multiple times before he got it off. He started to feel lightheaded, and as he attempted to step into the shower he found himself having to rush over to the toilet again. The deja vu was unbearable at this point. Did food poisoning or whatever this was usually last this long? Maybe he had a concussion or something. Either way he was very close to getting on his knees and praying for the feeling to go away. He was so sick of feeling like death warmed over. It made it hard to think, or even exist, and he still had a whole day to go through, not to mention hero training. Feeling quite light headed he tentatively stepped into the shower, turning the water cold, hoping it would quell the dizziness and nausea. It helped to some degree, until the water hit his head. It instantly burned and started throbbing more. And as he attempted to shampoo at least the front of his hair he almost passed out. 

Some soap had gotten in the wound and it hurt to all hell. He closed his eyes and leaned most of his weight on the shower wall, he didn’t let himself sit down, because he knew he couldn’t bring himself to stand back up. He managed to rinse the rest of the soap out, and then dragged himself from the shower. Only then did he chance a look into the mirror. It looked terrible, it was still bleeding a bit, and was red and inflamed. He definitely needed stitches, and it looked a little sunken in? It was hard to tell since the wound was so large and he didn’t wanna poke at it too much. He’d try to stitch it when he got back, if he tried it now he’d risk missing class if he passed out. He didn’t need his friends or teachers to see him in that state if they decided to come looking for him, so he decided to wait. You won’t, you’re too weak to go through with it. Letting a stupid wound affect you this much. You should be ashamed.  

No, he promised. He’d do it right when he got back to the dorms. He wasn’t weak, he’d do it without hesitation, he wouldn’t pass out. It became a goal in his mind, a rule. If he didn’t pass out he wasn’t weak, and that voice could go shove it. It brought him some comfort. That he had a way to prove he wasn’t weak. He finished getting ready and moved to go to the door when that comfort vanished. Fuck, what if his friends were right outside. Or worse, what if they weren’t. Would they be scared of him now? After what he’d done to Monoma? Would they think he couldn’t be a hero anymore, that he didn’t deserve to be there? Stop. No. He didn’t care. Those extra’s could think whatever they wanted, it didn’t concern him. He didn’t care if they thought he was a monster, or villainous. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to open the door. To find the answer to the questions he’d been asking himself. So, he stood there. Hand poised over the handle. He hadn’t even realized he’d been spacing out until the knock on his door startled him.

“You in there?” It was Kirishima and his shoulders immediately released their tension. He steeled his expression and opened the door. It was just Kirishima, not the rest of the group. He pretended it didn’t hurt a little. He went to step out and closed the door behind himself. Shitty Hair was just standing there staring at him, it seemed like he wanted him to talk first, but there was no fucking way that was happening. His head hurt too much to bother to form words. Shitty  Hair sighed and seemed to realize that he wasn’t going to start the conversation, so he started to talk hesitantly. 

“Hey man, did you maybe wanna talk about what happened yesterday?” he was rubbing his neck again, the tell tale sign he was nervous. Was he nervous being around him? Of course he is, you acted like a goddamn psycho yesterday. He probably thinks you’re going to go fucking mental and punch him in the face too . He hated to admit the voice had a point and he slowed his steps so that he was a little behind Kirishima, the least he could do after the mess he made. Usually having someone in front of him bugged him and he’d yell at them to get behind him, but he’d give it to Shitty Hair today. Kirishima turned to look at him when he moved though, with a confused look in his eye. 

“What’s up, why are you slowing down?” Isn’t that what he wanted? Didn’t he feel safer with more distance between them? He instantly felt embarrassed for being called out on his out of character behavior so he sped back up to meet Kirishima, still not too close and leaving a couple inches between them.

“It’s fucking nothing, and what happened yesterday was none of your business Shitty Hair.”

“Idk dude, it just seemed like something was bothering you. You know you can tell me if there’s something wrong right?” 

“There’s nothing to tell.” He liked to think he could tell Kirishima if he needed something, but really he didn’t know if he could ever bring himself to do so. So he needed to put on a strong front. His nausea was still increasing since his shower this morning and all he really wanted to do was sit down, so he sped up despite his body's protests.

He finally reached the classroom and pulled open the door. He was so focused on sitting down and not throwing up that he didn’t register that the noise in the classroom had died down when he opened the door. He made it halfway across the classroom before he noticed the looks that were turned his way. Too many eyes were staring back at him. Some were maybe angry? Some seemed confused, and others he couldn’t even tell what their stare meant, this in particular made him extra uncomfortable. He pretended not to see them, and made his way to his desk, trying to exude his usual air of confidence. He found it a lot harder to pull it off when everything was spinning. He had just made it to his seat when Deku was suddenly poking at him again, he turned and saw what he thought was something like determination in his eyes. He had no idea what the nerd had to be so determined about but it was likely going to be annoying so he instantly turned back around. He didn’t need a repeat of last time he had gotten angry. 

Deku was refusing to give up though and kept poking him and calling his name. Finally he couldn’t take it anymore and turned around in his seat.

“What the fuck do you want Deku!?”

“Is there something wrong?” The nerve of this little shit.

“What the fuck would be wrong!?” 

“You know what I’m talking about Kacchan, I can tell something is wrong with you.” -There is something wrong with you.

“I just told you there’s nothing!”

“If you would just tell me, I could help you!” You need my help because you’re a weak piece of shit. God, couldn’t he just let him be.

“I don’t need any fucking help! Mind your own goddamn business.” He always hated when Deku couldn’t let things go. He would never leave anything alone, and it started to feel like he was trapped in a corner, anytime Deku had a suspicion that something was amiss. He felt the need to lash out, show him he didn’t need help, that he wouldn’t be looked down on. He could take care of himself! Suddenly, he remembered where they were. He glanced around and sure enough everyone was looking towards them. He liked being in the spotlight, sure, but not for this. He wanted to be noticed because he was the best, the indisputable number one. Not because he punched someone and Deku couldn’t leave it alone. 

“Kacchan, please! If you’re sick or something you need to go to Recovery Girl.” You can’t handle this on your own. He felt his heartbeat quicken, and a pit opened up in his stomach. Everyone was here, everyone could hear what Deku was saying. That he was weak, and he thought he was sick. They’d see and then they’d watch, wait for him to mess up so they could say ‘Ha! I knew it!” His hands started to shake, and his breath came quicker. They’d all come to the same conclusion as Monoma, that he was faking. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction, no he’d show them. 

“I’m not fucking sick! I got mad and I punched Monoma! What more do you want from me!” 

“This isn’t about Monoma, Kacchan! This is about you! There is something wrong, and you won’t tell me!” You’re the problem not him. He could feel his breath quicken even more, and he was starting to sweat. He tried to breathe deeply and slowly, but found he couldn’t. He looked around the classroom, stuffing his shaking hands into his pockets. They’d notice he was acting differently, that he was panicking, he couldn’t let them see. Deku needed to stop, and he needed to stop now.

“Dek-”

“JUST TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!” He couldn’t take it anymore. He got up from his seat and left.

_______

“What the fuck.” Kirishima said from his seat. He didn’t curse often, so the statement startled Midoriya.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Kirishima. Bakugou is just being stubborn, he’ll come back before Aizawa gets here.”

‘I’m not talking about him, I'm talking about you! What the fuck was that!?” Midoriya seemed confused, he’d just been trying to help his friend.

“What do you mean?”

“Dude, did you not see how uncomfortable you were making him?” Sero said from his own seat, he also seemed to be unhappy as his tone was accusing.

“You had to know how he’d react when you tried to force him into telling you.”

“Uncomfortable? No, Kacchan has always been like that. He's too stubborn for his own good. If he’d just tell me I could help him.” 

“But what if he doesn’t want your help?” Ashido said. Doesn’t want it? Of course he didn’t, Kacchan never wanted help.

“It doesn’t matter what he wants,” he replied. It was true, if there was something wrong, he needs to get help, he doesn't have to want it. He was just worried about his friend, he didn’t see why they didn’t see that.

“..dude” Kaminari said disappointedly as he stood up and followed where Kacchan had gone before. “I’m going to go see where he’s gone.”

“No, I’ll go see if there’s something wrong.” Midoriya said as he went to stand up. Kirishima was in front of him not even a second later.

“I don’t think he wants to talk to you right now Midoriya.” He really didn’t understand, why were they mad at him right now? Did they just not see that something was off, did they think he was making a big deal out of nothing.

“I don’t get it, you guys have noticed some things off right?” 

“Of course we have, but cornering him into telling you isn’t the right way to go about this.” 

“What else am I supposed to do, he won’t tell me anything! What he’s feeling right now doesn’t matter as much as his health! I’m his friend, this is what I’m supposed to do, I’m supposed to  help!” 

“ Midoriya… It's because we’re friends that how he feels matters.” He sighed, and motioned with his hand. “Follow me for a second, not everyone needs to hear this.” He followed him out into the hallway, everyone came pretty early, so they had a small amount of time until Aizawa arrived.

“Did you ever stop and think about why Bakugou is so persistent in denying any weaknesses, and won’t admit when he’s sick?” He..he hadn’t. He had always figured it was just how he was, He had always been like that, even when they were kids. 

“Look, I’m worried too. I don’t really know how to go about this, but trying to force him to tell you isn't going to get you anywhere. He’s just going to close off, and keep refusing help. He needs someone he can trust, and it needs to be on his own terms that he tells us, otherwise he’ll just keep going in a circle. He’ll keep hiding when he’s sick or hurt. We can’t know why he thinks the way he does until he tells us, whether that’s just how he is, or it’s something more, but if you take away any trust he has in you by shouting at him and backing him into a corner he’ll never open up. You’ll ruin any chance of friendship you have with him.” He didn't want that, he had just wanted to help.

“I’m just so worried about him, he’s never acted like this before.” He didn’t mean to make Kacchan uncomfortable, and looking back he did feel a little bad. He had been able to tell it was getting too much for him. He just thought if he pushed a little more, maybe he’d break and tell him. The thought left him feeling guilty, he couldn’t believe he’d been trying to break him. Maybe Kirishima had a point. If helping Kacchan ended up hurting him, it wasn’t worth it. It didn’t stop his worry from continuing to fester though.

“If it seems like it’s getting worse, we need to tell Aizawa.” Kirishima softened a little bit at that.

“Ya, we just need to look out for him the best we can.” He nodded and they stood there in silence for a minute before Kirishima put back on his cheery expression. “Come on man, we gotta get to class before Aizawa Sensei gets here.”

“But Kacchan and Kaminari aren’t back yet, are you sure we shouldn’t look for them?” Kirishima smiled slightly smaller before replying.

“I’m sure Kami’s got it.”

________

He couldn’t breathe. His stomach was clenching and his world was swaying. His head was pounding and he felt his way along the wall until he reached the bathroom. He locked himself in the stall and sank down to the floor. He felt like he was having a heart attack. He clawed at his throat, panicked as he couldn’t get a full breath of air. Tears started streaming down his face and his quirk started to pop off. He heard the door open and he immediately tried to stifle the sound of his quirk by pushing it against his pant leg. The explosions weren’t big enough to hurt through the material, but that would quickly change if he continued pressing into it and the sweat permeated the cloth. He tried to quiet his quick breathing but was met with little success. He felt like he was going to die. 

“Bakugou?” He faintly heard his name being called but couldn’t tell whose voice it was in his state of panic.

“Bakugou?” The voice seemed to come closer, and stop in front of the stall. “Okay, okay it’s gonna be okay. Bakugou, I need to know if you can hear me.” The last thing he wanted to bother with was talking to some random extra right now. It was hard to force the words out but eventually he managed,

“ffuck off.” 

“Hah, no can do, sorry.” he lightly said before his voice turned more reassuring and serious. “You're gonna get through this Bakugou.” He wanted to argue that no he very much was not. He was going to pass out and die, but pride and his lack of breath kept him from doing so. “You’re going to have to slow your breathing down okay? Just breathe with me and we're going to count to 10. It’s okay if you can’t right away, just try with me.” He started to breathe in and out very exaggeratedly, at first he couldn’t keep up and it was starting to frustrate him.”It’s okay, just keep trying. You’re doing good.” If he was in any other state of mind he’d be pissed that he was talking to him like a child, but right now the words of reassurance were nice. Slowly his breathing came back to him, and the pops of his quirk died down. They sat in relative silence for a minute before he realized who he’d been talking to. Fucking Pikachu. He stood up and unlocked the stall door. He didn’t meet Kaminari’s gaze but he felt he owed him anyway. 

“Thanks.” Kaminari smiled at him before he replied.

“That’s what friends are for right?” He simply replied with a grunt. “Hey, You can just head back to the dorms. I'll tell Aizawa you weren’t feeling well.”

“Like hell you are, I’m going to class.” Pikachu seemed to frown at that before he sighed.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea man, I can ask Yaoyorozu to lend me her notes for you, so you don’t miss anything.”

“There’s no reason for me to miss class Dunce Face.” he scoffed in reply.

“I think a panic attack is a little bit of a reason, Bakugou.”

‘Fuck off it was not a panic attack. I’m not weak.” Kaminari raised his eyebrows at that.

“I have panic attacks, does that make me weak?” Bakugou shifted uneasily on his feet. He wasn’t sure how to answer that. 

“It’s different for you than it is for me.”

“Why?”

“It just is.”

“You’re human too, Bakugou. We aren’t invincible.” It was different, it just was. His mom always told him so, he wasn’t allowed to be weak, his parents had done too much for him to not take full advantage of every opportunity given to him. If he was weak, he was vulnerable and they would need to put him in his place. Other people didn’t need to be fixed so they could afford to be weak, he couldn’t or he’d never be a hero. He needed to be the number one hero, so he couldn’t miss class. He turned towards Kaminari, finally meeting his gaze, with a heated glare and a scowl set onto his face.

“I’m going.”  

Chapter Text

He tried to pretend like his whole body didn’t feel like it was floating, while also feeling like his emotions were just barely being held back. He continued on his way to class. Kaminari followed a little behind with a worried expression. The walk wasn’t far but it felt like it was taking years. He was walking slower than his past self would have allowed him to, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He felt numb but also like he was balancing on a tripwire where one little thing could set him off. He eventually made it to the classroom, not able to tell how long it really took. He opened the classroom door, everyone stared at him as he entered but he didn’t even notice. Too spaced out to be angry. He sat down and stared out the window, unaware of Aizawa berating him and Kaminari for showing up late.

Thankfully Kaminari talked for them, even if Aizawa seemed to look Bakugou’s way at the unconvincing excuse Kaminari managed to come up with. He didn’t remember the rest of the classes. Never took his eyes off of the distant building he could see from the window. Pretended not to hear Deku trying to get his attention. He didn’t want to come out of whatever headspace he was in at the moment. For once he felt calm, and safe. Nothing could bother him right now. He was still exhausted, his mind and body pushed past what he could handle. He ignored his nausea and the pounding behind his eyes as the light from the window hit them. He closed them when the pain became too much, and before he knew it he was asleep. He didn’t dream, which was a small mercy. It would have been embarrassing to wake up from that in class.

He woke up from the sounds of chairs scuffing and his friends had made their way to his desk. Mina looked down at him and smiled before she said softly. “Why don’t we eat in here today?” He looked up at her, and couldn’t find it in himself to refuse. He just stared blankly at her before uttering a simple.

“Ok.”

His friend group nodded and a couple people left to get their lunches, while Mina stayed since she had packed her own lunch. Shitty Hair said he’d grab him something while he was there so he shouldn’t bother getting up. A part of his brain told him to put up a fight, insist he didn’t need any fucking help, but he didn’t really want to move. Getting up would only increase his nausea and even he knew he needed to eat something.

He looked towards Mina who was carefully unpacking her bento when a thought rose in his head. Why hadn’t they waited for him today like they had yesterday to walk to class? You fucking know why, they think you’re a god damn monster for what you did to that copycat fucker. He tried to stomp the thought down, the serenity in his mind threatening to break. No, Pikachu had tried to help me, he didn’t think I was a monster. He continued the fight with himself before he looked up to find Mina looking at him. “What’s up Blasty?” If you ask she’ll know you care, like a weak fucking bitch.” He shut the voice out, he needed to know. It isn’t that he cares, he’d be at a disadvantage not knowing what they were thinking. 

“ Where were you guys this morning? Didn’t see you waiting around like yesterday.” 

“Aw Blasty, did you miss us?!”

“No fucking way in hell.”

“We just wanted to give you some space, it didn't really seem like you wanted a lot of people around.”

“You’re not pissed about what I did to Monoma?”

“Na, don’t tell anyone, but he definitely deserved it. Someone needed to punch him a long time ago. It didn’t seem like you though, you don’t seem like it but you usually follow the rules.” She paused for a minute, seeming to mull over what she was about to say when she finally seemed to decide. “Bakugou.. Why did you punch Monoma?” He didn’t have an answer for her, he himself didn’t know , he barely even remembered it. They sat in silence making tense eye contact before he was saved by the rest of the group returning. They all sat down around him, and soon began their own conversations, even if it seemed quieter than usual. He stared out the window again, as he tried to eat what Kirishima had brought him. Soon enough, lunch was over and he left to go back to the dorms. On his way he was stopped by Aizawa who told him lessons were pushed till tomorrow since something urgent came up. 

He forced himself to his dorm room. He remembered the promise he’d made with himself. He needed to stitch up his wound. Now was the perfect time since everyone was still in training. He forced his dragging feet into the elevator and tried to push down his rising nausea. He made it to his room and locked the door behind him. He pulled the first aid kit he’d stashed under his bed and moved to the bathroom. His fingers were shaking and his entire body was in a cold sweat as he once again removed his beanie. He got the supplies ready and held the needle up to his scalp. He breathed in deeply and tried to calm his shaking hands as the needle pierced his skin. One. Two. Three. Black.

He woke up on the floor. Three stitches, that's how far he’d made it before he passed out. He looked down to find the needle embedded in his cheek where it had gotten lodged in his fall. He pulled it out and with a frustrated shout he started slamming his fists against the tiled floor. Angry steaming tears flowing down his face. He promised, he promised he wouldn’t pass out and he couldn’t even do that. He was pathetic, weak, a waste of space. Through blurry eyes he forced himself to finish the stitching. He only made it two more before his vision started going again. He didn’t know if it was from the pain or his hyperventilating from crying so hard. He harshly wiped at his tears, only for new ones to appear in their place. He gave up the stitching, and harshly pulled the hat back over his head. He washed his face with cold water and the blood from his hands. He couldn’t be there right now alone, in his dark room with his thoughts. As they crashed into him again and again. So he left, he didn’t make it far, the pain making him stop. He found himself in the common room. He sat against the couch and tried to steady his breathing as he leaned back, rested his arm over his forehead, and closed his eyes.     

__________

When they got back from hero training battered and bruised the last thing they expected was to see Bakugou sleeping on the couch, eyes looking irritated, and knuckles bruised. They decided to stay out there with him, and keep him company. If he was out there he probably didn’t want to be alone. So they watched a movie quietly, when Bakugou’s phone started to ring. Bakugou didn’t even stir as his phone rang again and again. Kaminari reached over from his place next to Bakugou and grabbed the phone sitting next to his leg seeing the calls were from someone called The Hag. From the few times Bakugou had talked about his family he knew that it was his mother. It kept ringing and Kami weighed his options. One: he could ignore it, two: he could wake Bakugou up, and three: he could answer the phone. Ignoring it wasn’t working as the calls kept coming, and he really didn’t want to wake Bakugou up since he seemed so tired. An idea popped into his head when he considered the third option. Sure Bakugou didn’t want to admit he was sick, but that didn’t mean he didn’t need help. Surely his mom didn’t know he was sick since Bakugou wouldn’t tell her, and he always wanted his mom when he was sick, so maybe Bakugou was the same and his pride was just keeping him from telling her? Maybe she could take care of him when he wouldn’t let them help. He looked around at his group with a determined look in his eye as his finger hovered over the answer button. Kiri caught his eye and with a “Kami, don’t-” He answered the phone. 

“Fucking Brat finally decided to answer the god damn phone did you?” He was taken aback a second, but quickly reasoned with himself. Bakugou has always been very tough love, he probably got it from his mother.

“Um, hi this is Kaminari. I’m Bakugou’s friend.” There was silence on the other end of the phone for a second before her reply.

“Katsuki doesn’t have any friends, why do you have his fucking phone.” Had Bakugou not told her about them? I guess it makes sense since he always denied they were friends when they'd say it. It did kinda hurt he hadn’t told her though, he hoped he secretly did consider them his friends.

“Bakugou is sleeping right now, but um he doesn’t seem to be feeling all that great. Has he told you anything about it?” 

“That fucking brat is still pulling that shit over there? Such a fucking attention seeker, faking shit. I can’t believe him. Using that as an excuse to slack off. I thought he was better than that. I guess he has always been a weak piece of shit” He checked the contact name again, this was Bakugou’s mom right? How could she talk about him like this? Something didn’t feel right and suddenly he regretted picking up the phone in the first place. 

“I can assure you, he’s not faking-” He met Kiri’s eyes as they suddenly went wide like he understood something. He quickly started shaking his head but Kami wasn’t sure what he meant so after a brief pause he tried again. Eager to end the call.

“Maybe, you should check on him? He could probably use someone to look after him right now.” There was a laugh on the other end of the line.

“I’ll be sure to check on him when he comes home. I appreciate the concern of Katsuki's friend . But if you really knew my son you’d know he was fine. Now get off my son’s fucking phone.”

“Y-yes ma'am.” He ended the phone quickly, panicked. God, what had he just done. He looked over towards Kiri to figure out what he was trying to say, when he noticed someone else looking straight at him. He watched frozen as Bakugou gazed at his face, then his eyes traveled down to the phone still in Kami’s hands. His expression changed as the pieces seemed to click in his mind. He would have expected anger. Anger was familiar on Bakugou's face. But he looked back at him with unbridled fear, it didn’t last long but it scared Kami down to his core. Soon enough Bakugou had snatched his phone out of his hand and was glaring at him with pure rage, but still didn’t yell as he said:

“What did you do.” 

__________

He didn’t know what they had said, but only one person called him who wasn’t in the room, and no matter what they said was going to get him beaten. He hadn't told his mom about his friends on purpose. He wasn’t allowed to have friends, she forbade him from making any as she saw it as a distraction, a weakness that would get in his way of being a top hero. Now that she knew he was sure to pay the price. He just hoped they hadn’t said anything too bad. The look Kaminari was giving him didn’t give him confidence.

“It's just, I was worried and I know you wouldn’t tell you mom. And you didn’t seem to be feeling well, so I, I.” He shut down. No way, no way in fucking hell. After everything he went through, after suffering the consequences of his last mistake. They had gone and made it so much worse. He was dead, he was gone, she wouldn’t hold back this time. He’d done too much. He’d gotten sick at the house, he punched Monoma, he had friends, and now she knew he was acting weak at school. She’d give up on him. She’d warned him her generosity would only go so far. She was going to kill him. He looked down at his phone to a text message waiting for him

Hag: I thought you were better than this Katsuki, I thought we had fixed this. I guess it’s not enough. We’ll address this tomorrow. I can’t fucking believe you.

He felt his eyes watering, she had never been this nice or formal toned before. He knew what it meant he was going to be tested. If he failed, he didn’t even want to know what would happen. He would just have to succeed. Show her that nothing was wrong. Maybe then she’d be proud of him. He looked back up from where he was lost in thought to the concerned looks of his friends. He turned around and walked back to his room. Ignoring the concerned voices of his friends, and the deep hurt in his heart. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold back what he was feeling if he stayed. As he entered his dorm he felt something wet slide down his face. He thought they were tears, but as he walked towards the bathroom and looked in the mirror he saw it wasn’t tears at all. Blood was flowing from his nose and ears. He knew it meant something was very wrong. He knew he didn’t have control over it anymore. But he couldn’t find it in himself to be concerned. He just had to make it through the weekend. Then it would all be okay. Then he’d be fine. 

Chapter Text

They sat in the common room in silence. No one managing to pull themselves out of the stupor that had fallen over the group. Guilt racked his entire body as he stared down at his hands. His mind flashed with images of Bakugou’s face as he’d left. The rage, the betrayal, the fear. He couldn’t even bring himself to look up at his friends. This was his fault. He was only trying to make it better but he’d made it so much worse. He whispered mostly to himself but also to try to take some fraction of accountability, “I messed up.” His eyes started to water involuntarily as he made eye contact with Kiri across the way. “Didn’t I?” It wasn’t really a question. He knew he had, and it was only confirmed as Kiri slowly nodded. It took everything in his power not to start sobbing right then and there. It was silent before Kirishima slowly found his voice.

“When I found Bakugou in the locker rooms that time during training, he was so adamant that he wasn’t faking. It was like he was sure that was the first thing I would think. I didn’t understand why he couldn’t just accept the fact he was sick and hurting. But it finally clicked when I heard you tell Bakugou’s mom that he wasn’t faking. That she was the reason behind it.” Kiri looked up and met Kami’s eyes before asking, “What else did she say?” There was a hard edge to his voice like he could already tell how bad it was. Kami slowly shook his head before taking a shaky breath. 

“S-she called him an attention seeker, and a weak piece of shit. She didn’t believe me that he was sick. She didn’t even believe that he had friends.” The group stared back at him misty eyed as they took in this new information. 

“He’s been hearing this for god knows how long. It’s no wonder he’s been having such a hard time.” Mina said, frowning. 

“Did you guys see his face? I’ve seen a lot of different expressions on Bakugou, but never that one. It almost, no definitely… looked like he was afraid. Do you think there might be more to it? Like what if she..hurts him?” Sero said after a brief hesitation. Mina nodded uncertainly before adding,

“I think, I saw his eyes watering too, like he was about to cry but trying not too. It was hard to tell since he left so quickly afterwards, but he was definitely upset. It isn’t like him to just leave like that. Have you guys ever noticed anything before this? Kiri? You guys spar a lot, have you seen anything?” Kirishima looked to be in deep thought, eyebrows drawn in concentration. 

“I mean, sure he had bruises sometimes, or a limp... but I always thought they were just from training, he was always overworking himself!” The others in the group sat quietly as they watched Kiri process his memories. “God, what if. What if she hurt him and I didn’t notice! Or I did but didn’t do anything about it. If I had done something we could have helped him. Maybe we could have helped before he got so sick. I knew something was wrong, I’m so stupid, why couldn’t I have noticed before, why didn’t I do anything!” He was working himself up, they could all see it as he started to spiral. 

“Kiri! It’s not your fault! We all could have noticed something, but we didn’t. Maybe we didn’t pay close enough attention, maybe there’s isn’t anything to notice, but most likely Bakugou just didn’t want us to know. But we know now, and whether Bakugou’s mom is hurting him or not we can try to help. It’s not too late to do something about it.” 

“I think, we need to tell Aizawa Sensei. He can help Bakugou better than we can.” Sero said as he slowly stood up from the couch. They all nodded as they prepared to make their way to their teacher.

__________

He hadn’t been in his classroom for long, he’d had to go home right after class because Eri had come down with something and Hizashi had to be on patrol. She had eventually gone to bed and Hizashi had come back, and that's when he decided to swing by the classroom to pick up some papers to grade. That was the only reason he was there when his students came by, it was funny how the universe worked. Little things building up like dominos in order for one specific thing to occur. When he first heard the tap-tap of their knuckles on the door he was confused on why a student would be by this late after classes, he should have guessed it was about one of his problem children. 

He hadn’t known what to expect as he watched Bakugou's friend group minus Bakugou file into the room. They seemed determined and there was something about the looks in their eyes that set his nerves on high alert.

“Aizawa Sensei, there’s something we need to talk to you about.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well, we were on the phone earlier, ah Bakugou’s phone and we were talking to his mom. She said some really hurtful things about him, and we're just worried…” He took a second to process the information. Bakugou’s mom had said hurtful things? He’d met Bakugou’s parents before, he’d thought the Bakugou household seemed normal enough. He had been slightly irked by Mrs.Bakugou’s approach when she had insinuated that the kidnapping was Bakugou’s fault, but he’d rationalized that it was just their way of communicating. Bakugou had been quick to refute the statement instantly. He should have listened to that little voice in his head saying something was off. Still, he had to get more information. He couldn’t let his emotions get in the way of his decisions. He breathed in a long breathe through his nose before he continued, 

“Explain to me what happened in detail. Start from the beginning.” They all shifted their attention to Kaminari as he fidgeted nervously. When he realized they were all waiting for him to speak he looked around nervously, before his gaze fell at his feet.

“When we got back from training Bakugou was asleep on the couch. He hasn’t been doing too well lately so we stayed out there with him, you know, to keep him company.” He waited for him to continue. Kaminari had confirmed his thoughts that something was up with Bakugou, and he made a mental note to have them go into more detail about that later. For now he’d focus on the task at hand.

“Well, we were sitting there and Bakugou’s phone kept ringing, but he wasn’t waking up. It rang for a long time and..I was going to let it keep ringing or maybe try to wake him, but then I thought that maybe I could help. I was sure Bakugou wouldn’t tell his mom he was sick so, maybe, if I told her she’d make him rest and take care of him because he wouldn’t let us help. So I answered the phone.” He waited for Kaminari to continue, it didn’t seem like he was going to. 

“And? What did she say?” It took a few more tense moments of baited breath before he began again. Tone slightly shaky. 

“She called him a brat, and was mad at him for not picking up. I told her I was Bakugou’s friend but she didn't believe me. She said he didn’t have any friends. I tried to tell her that Bakugou was sick, but she got furious and said he was faking it, and he was being an attention seeker. I tried to tell her that he definitely wasn’t faking but she just called him..a weak piece of shit. She told me he was fine and to get off his phone, and that’s when I hung up. I didn’t notice until then that Bakugou had woken up.”  He didn’t know what to say. He could definitely see why they had been so worried for their friend. A parent saying those things about their child is wrong on so many levels. He tried not to think about the fact that if that’s what she said to someone she deemed a stranger, what she said in private could be much worse. Anger started bubbling up in his chest as the words sunk deeper. This poor kid, how many times had he neglected his health simply because he was told he couldn’t be 'weak'. He kept his anger at bay, he could tell there was more to the story they had yet to say. It was Mina who spoke up next.

“The look on his face when he’d realized what had happened..he looked so scared, I think he might have even been about to cry. He covered it up pretty quickly with anger but we still saw. We don’t have any proof, but we’re worried she might.. hurt him. Kiri noticed bruises when they spared and he was limping sometimes. It could just be from training. I’m not sure. I just have a feeling..That something is wrong .” His worry increased exponentially, had he missed a sign. Something that could have told him how much pain Bakugou was in, could he have done something sooner. No, there’s no use thinking about the past. He could regret things as much as he wanted but that wouldn’t help Bakugou right now. He wanted more than anything to be able to go right down to the Bakugou’s and demand an explanation, but these things take time, and doing things rashly wouldn’t help anyone. They needed to build a case, and make sure everything was in order or things could only go downhill.  He looked down at his students, whose faces were creased with worry for their friend. 

“Okay, thank you for telling me. I’ll do everything in my power to help.” He watched as relief flooded their expressions. “Now all of you back to the dorms it’s getting late.”he ushered them out the door and hesitantly, they started walking back to the dorms. He started trying to compartmentalize what needed to be done. He needed to talk to Nezu, and probably Recovery Girl about past injuries having unreported causes. But most importantly, this was all mere conjecture until he had proof. If he was to move forward he needed to talk to Bakugou. He couldn’t help until Bakugou admitted he needed it, and he knew that was easier said than done.  

__________

 ‘When had everything gotten so out of control?’ He found the question repeating again and again in his mind. He wasn't sure why, he knew when everything had gone to shit. It was his own fault really, he should have hid how he was feeling better, should have cleaned up faster, hell even not wearing socks would have stopped all this from happening. He was staring at the ceiling, willing the tears to stop building in his eyes. It wasn’t working all that well. He would be sure he was fine, only for a new memory or thought of what he had waiting for him tomorrow to have his anxiety skyrocket again. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the feeling of drying blood on his skin and focus on falling asleep. He just wanted to escape his mind, and the only thing he could think of was to just shut the world out and fall asleep. He curled up, hugging his pillow tight to his chest, and wincing at the stinging of his head from lying on the pillow. He’d worry about the blood later, he pushed everything out of his mind. He decided right then, he was going home, he was gonna endure it, and then everything would be normal again. He’d be in control again.

He woke up and for about 10 peaceful seconds, he forgot. Forgot the pain in his head, his stomach, his heart. Forgot about the thin string of control he had left over his emotions. He just forgot. Lying in his bed and staring at the dark ceiling once again, not truly awake, mind blissfully blank. He should have known it wouldn’t last long. Suddenly he realized what had awoken him, his serene image shattered. He was too hot but shivering with cold sweat, his head felt hot to the touch and was pounding so forcefully it felt like it was going to explode. His stomach twisted painfully and with a sudden onslaught of dizziness he rolled off the bed and stumbled to the floor, he crawled to the toilet and hung his head against the lid. He couldn’t care less about the germs at that point. He tried to take deep breaths and coax himself through it muttering “you're fine, you're fine, you're fine” If only he had been able to convince himself. 

He got sick again, shattering his mantra. He felt the tears stinging his eyes. He was just so tired. So tired of all of this, he didn’t want to do it anymore. His mouth finally stopped watering after what felt like hours, he didn’t know how long it really was, he’d lost his sense of time. He slumped against the floor, curling into a ball to stop the stomach pain and the spinning. The cold tile a small relief against his clammy skin and forehead. He fell asleep there, not by choice but by exhaustion. 

He awoke the next morning, still on the bathroom floor.  A terrible sense of deja vu overcoming him. He quickly realized where he was, he felt a little better than he had that night but he could feel it threatening to start again so he moved slowly. From the light in the window he could tell it was later than he usually woke up, so he braced himself to stand. His head still felt like it was on fire, so he wasn’t about to risk taking a shower. He pulled himself up slowly and once standing gazed into the mirror with hooded eyes. Fuck. He hadn’t bothered to change out of his uniform last night, and now it was stained with blood near the collar. Of course he’d accidentally left his spare at his house, so in short he was royally fucked. He wasn’t about to not wear it, he would just end up dragging more attention to himself and get detention. 

He still had the jacket, so hopefully that would cover up the blood. He still felt sweaty and gross but he couldn’t do much about that. So he did what he could by using a washcloth to wipe his face and neck, and raking through the hair that poked through his beanie with his fingers to try and make it look okay. He still looked like shit he wasn’t even gonna lie to himself, but it was just one day. One day and a weekend and then he’d be okay. His head would heal and the concussion or whatever should be fine by then. He’d be fine at home, endure his punishment, and come back good as new. He just had to get through it, then everything would be okay again.

 He glanced at his phone and realized he was going to be late. After once again checking the bloody spot was covered the best it could be, and that nothing else was bleeding, he rushed to the door. Only to come face to face with Kaminari. He froze and after a second looked around Kaminari. They were all there.  But there was something in their eyes as they looked at him, a gaze he couldn’t place but that unsettled him. Kaminari was nervously twisting his hands and took a second to speak.

“Bakugou..I just. I’m so sorry. I was trying to help, but I shouldn’t have and I don’t know if I made it worse, but you looked so betrayed and I wasn’t trying to do that to you, and I’m so sorry, and I just-” He couldn't do this right now. He did feel pissed, and betrayed, and like they’d broken his trust, but his emotions were already close to snapping. He could feel the tell tale burning was starting behind his eyes, and the hitch in his breath that told him if he started talking he wouldn’t be able to stop. So he couldn't. He refused to make eye contact, and pushed past Kaminari who was standing in his path. He didn’t say anything and just kept walking. Shitty Hair grabbed him lightly by the arm and called a soft. “Bakugou? Are you okay?.” He made the mistake of looking up at him. His eyes seemed so warm and open, and all he wanted to do was breakdown, and tell him everything. His heart physically hurt as he looked away, feeling the damn break and angling his body away. He realized then that he was shaking and ripped his arm out of Kirishima’s hand.

 He didn’t stop moving after that. He needed to get away before anyone saw him. He dove into the nearest bathroom. He stared at his red rimmed eyes that kept spouting tears, and he angrily wiped them away, only for more to take their place. He yelled at himself while staring in the mirror. “Fucking stop, f-fuckng stop” He tried to breathe deep to stop the tears with little success. “What is fucking wrong with me?!” He’d cried more in this past week than he had in years. This shouldn’t have been enough to break him, he should be able to handle more. He dug his fingernails into his palms, and forced himself to breathe deeply. Slowly he was able to calm himself down. He frantically washed his face with cold water to try to erase any evidence of tears. He needed to go to class, but his eyes were still red, and his face still blotchy. He was going to be late but he couldn’t force himself out of the bathroom, not until he could be sure that no one could tell.

 It took another ten minutes before he was able to make himself leave. He dreaded having to enter the classroom. So he didn’t give himself time to hesitate before he opened the door and speed walked his way to his seat.

“Bakugou, why are you late?” He didn’t answer, he still didn’t trust his voice not to expose him. He heard a deep sigh before, “Come see me after class.” He gave up listening after that, but he refused to fall asleep either. It would come too fast if he fell asleep. He had to go home after school, and he wanted the day to last as long as it could. He felt as his emotions swayed throughout the day, the scribbling of pencils almost sending him into a rage, to the feeling of his friends eyes on him sending him into an anxious mess. All too soon it was nearing lunch and he tuned into what Aizawa was telling the class. 

“Alright class I have something to share with you all. I’m going to be passing out a slip of paper with a number, it’s for my personal cell. Add the number in your phones, and if there is ever an emergency I want you to call it, it doesn't matter what time it is I’ll make sure I answer. Once that’s been passed around, you are dismissed for lunch.”  His own little paper slip eventually reached his desk. He considered putting it in his phone, but decided it would be too much of a temptation. He didn’t need to take the easy way out and ask for help, he could handle whatever was thrown at him. He slipped the paper in his pocket and stood up to go to lunch. He could tell his friends were coming up behind him but he was faster and left for the dorms. He didn’t feel like eating today. He still had cleaning duty, which he’d forgotten to do, so he decided to get started on that before his extra classes with Aizawa. 

He’d just finished, feeling lightheaded and unbalanced when he realized it was time to go back to the classroom because everyone else was getting back. He could hear their distant voices getting closer and he tried to steady himself on the wall before walking back to class. He was so focused on staying upright he didn’t hear Uraraka come up beside him til it was too late. Her hand landed on his arm and he flinched. Of course it wasn’t a little flinch either. No, it was a full body flinch that couldn’t possibly be played off as anything else. 

“Are you feeling okay Bakugou? You seem pale.” He internally thanked her for not bringing up the flinch, and for her being the only one to see it, until he turned to face away from the wall to his entire class staring at him. Deku looking about 2 seconds from saying something. He muttered out a gruff, 

“I’m fine.” before making a straight dash for the door, or as straight as he could. He was still dizzy, so I was probably more diagonal. He finally made it to Aizawa’s classroom just slightly out of breath. He stood in the doorway keeping balance as best he could until Aizawa glanced up.     

“Why were you late for class today?” 

“I was in the bathroom.” 

“Why were you in the bathroom?”

“Why the fuck do you think I was in the bathroom.”

“Language, Bakugou. You know exactly what I’m talking about, you’ve never been late before this week, and suddenly it’s a regular occurrence. What changed.” That made him nervous, did he know something, had he noticed something? He immediately went on the defensive. He’d made it this far; he wasn't about to mess up now.

“Nothing fucking changed. My alarm clock just hasn’t been fucking working. I keep waking up late is all.” 

“Bakugou, you can tell me if something is bothering you. We can fix the problem together if you just trust me.”

“What, you don't fucking believe me?!” 

“You’re friends came to me, they were worried. They said your mother was saying some pretty hurtful things. I want to help you Bakugou, you just have to let me.” Crap, they’d fucking told him. He didn’t know exactly what she had said but he could only guess it wasn’t good. His mind raced for an excuse. 

“She’s just like that, it's nothing.” Definitely not his best and he could tell his teacher wasn’t believing him.

“It’s never alright for a parent to say those things to you, but, does she ever do anything else?” 

“What does that fucking mean?!” 

“I don’t want to ask you about this Bakugou, but I need to know. If you answer yes, then that’ll be that and we can find a solution together, but I need you to be honest with me.” He could tell what he was going to ask but he really hoped he wouldn’t. He steeled his expression the best he could and braced himself, he’d been asked before, he could lie just like then. Aizawa would give up after he had his answer and soothed his conscience, he was sure of it.

“Bakugou, does your mother hurt you?” He was quick to reply.

“No, she doesn’t.” He had thought about telling him, just for a second, but he knew the outcome of saying yes. There would be a trial, and then he’d go into foster care, and then where would he get the money for school. He didn’t want to risk a worse outcome than he was already living with. He only had 2 years to go, he could make it. Aizawa seemed to be lingering over his answer, deciding if he believed him or not, when his eyes narrowed. 

“Bakugou.” At this point his nerves were fried and he just wanted to run out of the classroom.

“What now?!” Only then did he register where his eyes were focused in a determined glare. They were staring right below his collar where his jacket had been covering the blood stain, only the jacket had shifted and was no longer hiding it.

“Why is there blood on your uniform?” His heart stopped and his brain scrambled to find an answer, his body chose that moment to send a sickening crack of pain shooting through his head and he fought through his wince to answer. 

“It isn’t blood, it’s..paint.” paint. Why the fuck had he said paint. Could have said food, could have said literally anything else. He didn’t have any paint, and he’s sure Aizawa knew he didn’t paint.

“I didn’t know you painted.” He said it monotonously, disbelief coloring his words. He knew he wouldn’t buy it. His head was pounding and words were becoming hard and his anger was rising at the drawn out conversation. Calm him probably would have replied, “Ya, new hobby.” but what came out was,

“I do, now mind your own fucking business.” and stormed out. He was just asking for detention at this point. So he kept walking until he reached the dorms. He stormed right into his room only for a knock to sound right as he closed it. He had to have been waiting for him to get back. The only one who could have gotten there that fast was Kirishima since he was right next door. Sure enough, when he opened the door bright red greeted him. 

“What do you want?” 

“Heyy Bakubro. Uraraka decided to make dinner for everyone, so we were all going down to eat soon. You should come, that way you don’t have to cook or anything.” Everything in him wanted to slam the door on him and go wallow in darkness, but he hadn’t eaten today and that was probably why he was so dizzy and had to grip the doorknob to keep from leaning. Plus once he was at home he didn’t know when he’d be allowed to eat again, so he should eat while he could. He had about an hour, maybe less til he had to leave, and staying in his room alone would just make him focus on it. 

“Whatever, I need to change first.” He was not getting caught with the blood now that he didn’t need to be in his uniform.

“Really? I mean okay! I’ll wait out here for you.” Bakugou just rolled his eyes (not a good idea) and closed the door. Soon enough he’d changed into a black tank top and jeans since he still had to catch the train. They walked down together. He still didn’t make eye contact with Kirishima, even just the knowledge that he had almost cried in front of him was already too embarrassing, he was not risking a repeat. Eventually they made it to the common room and some curry and rice was shoved into his hands. He liked curry usually, but it was going to be hard to eat anything right now. He sat on the couch as others filed in around him, and soon enough everyone was having their own small conversations. He noticed that once in a while his classmates would look at him like they were concerned or something and it put him on edge. 

He focused on putting the food in his mouth so he could get out of there, when suddenly the taste turned bitter, and he started to see flashing lights. His stomach dropped, and in a slight panic he reached his arm out to Kirishima to get his attention. He didn't know what was wrong but something was definitely wrong. He had just laid his hand on Kirishima’s shoulder and said “Kiri-” When his entire right side went numb. His hand slipped off his shoulder, and he was stuck. He could see his right arm and leg jerking but he couldn’t stop them. 

He could hear Kirishima panicking and trying to hold his hand down. He couldn’t see super well, and he didn’t have control of his eyes, but it seemed as though others crowded around him. He was frozen and he didn’t know what was happening, and he couldn’t stop it. He was terrified and he couldn’t do anything about it. Eventually he started to form words and could finally try to respond to the cries of the people surrounding him. It hadn’t lasted long, probably less than two minutes but he never wanted it to happen again. He finally focused his eyes to see a misty eyed Mina staring back at him. “What’s wrong! Bakugou, are you alright?” 

 “I’m f-fine.” he said as he sat back up from where his back was leaning on the couch.

“You're not fine! Stop saying that!” Mina screamed at him.

“What was that!” Kirishima said from his spot in front of him, still holding onto his hand. He gently removed it, all his limbs felt like lead. 

“I don’t know. I have to go I can’t miss my bus”

“You don’t know! Kacchan, this is serious! You can’t just ignore this!” Deku said furious.

“Watch me.” He said as he moved to get up off the couch, he was not going to be late, and get himself in more shit. It was just a one time thing. Probably because he’s dehydrated or something. 

“I called Aizawa, you should wait until the teacher arrives before you leave.” four eyes said, annoyingly. 

“ I don’t have the time.” He’d made it almost out the door, when Kirishima pulled him back one more time. 

“Please Bakugou! Something is really wrong!” He could tell Kirishima’s eyes were starting to water, and he felt bad for upsetting him, but he couldn’t deal with that right now.

“I can’t be late.” 

“You don’t have to go. You can stay here!” He gently removed Kiri’s hand from his arm. 

“ I can’t, I have to go.” He then turned to leave.

“Bakugou?”

“What?” He said without turning around.

“Promise me if something happens you’ll call me.” He didn’t want to promise, he knew he wouldn’t, couldn’t. This was his battle. He refused to drag Kiri into it. He turned back just enough so Kirishima could see his face and lightly smiled at him. Before walking out into the cold air. 

Chapter Text

He just watched as Bakugou’s form retreated from his vision. He knew in his gut that something wasn’t right, and every fiber of his being had been screaming at him to not let Bakugou leave. He’d tried desperately to keep him back, safe where he could see him. They still didn’t know the truth about Bakugou's family, and after what had happened he was even less inclined to let Bakugou out of his sight. His fists clenched around the fabric of his jeans as his mind flashed with snippets of what happened, they refused to leave. Bakugou calling out his name, sounding so scared and urgent. His hand slipping from his shoulder, the way he had gone stiff, eyes frozen and rolled to the side, body spasming out of control.

 Everyone was quick to action, but no one really knew what to do. He had held his hand tightly trying to bring him back, but he hadn’t responded at all. In hindsight it had ended quickly, but it had felt like years, and all he could do was stand there and call out his friend's name. Even his last attempt to help, to do something , anything , had failed, and Bakugou’s attempt at a reassuring smile had only made his blood run cold. There was something resigned about it. It almost felt as if he had accepted his fate, and it left Kirishima struggling to keep the tears from falling, and dread from taking over his senses. 

__________

The train doors opened, and offered a nice reprieve from the cold. The train was busy, much to his dissatisfaction and he was forced to stand, his eyes getting closer and closer to shutting completely. He felt completely exhausted, like his legs were going to give out at any second. He wanted nothing more than to just crawl into his warm bed and hide from everything, and everyone, but he knew he couldn’t. His night was only beginning, he knew he should feel nervous, try to come up with a plan, but his nerves were frazzled beyond repair, and his head was pounding too much to try to think. He let his mind wander, thinking of nothing in particular, just reveling in the peace of the rumble of the train. 

He knew he should be on his guard. He wasn’t safe there, but he was just so tired. His world tilted and before he realized it, he was falling. He must have dozed off and lost his footing. He attempted to right himself but he was already dizzy so he found it harder than it should have been. He crashed right into the lady in front of him. Her hand instinctively reached out to steady him, and he felt as his whole body tensed up, the warmth feeling as though it was burning through his skin. He felt as his heart picked up speed, and his mind reminded him of the pain that usually accompanied a hand on his arm. 

He quickly fought to steady himself, and pulled away as forcefully as he dared. When he finally managed to focus his eyes on the women, he managed to calm himself somewhat. She had short brown hair, warm orange eyes, and was more heavy set. In short she looked nothing like his mother. In fact, if he had to compare, she sort of reminded him of Aunty Inko. He went to apologize when she suddenly exclaimed with worry, “Oh honey, you look exhausted! Here, take my seat.” He didn't understand. Why would she give up her seat for him? It seemed suspicious and he wasn’t about to take chances. 

“Why the fuck would you do that?” She looked at him questioningly, as if she didn’t understand .

“You just seem like you need it more than me.” Fuck that, he didn’t need a pity seat, and he would tell her exactly that.

“I don’t need a fucking pity seat.” He said with as much venom as he could muster, which admittedly wasn’t very much. She just stared at him in turn, before getting up from her seat and standing a few feet away from him. She then turned to him and raised her eyebrow expectantly. His pride screamed at him to turn a blind eye, but his fatigue was urging him to take the seat before someone else did. In the end, the fatigue won. He sat in the seat with a huff, and tried to avoid eye contact. His body was immediately flooded with relief, and in the back of his head he thanked the lady for giving up her seat, but he still didn’t understand what she was getting out of it, and it left him uneasy. So he sat there, eyes trying to stay open and keep alert, and all too soon he was nearing his stop. Everything in his body was screaming at him to stay put, watch the doors close and allow the train to carry him safely away, but he refused to run away. He forced himself to stand, anxiousness increasing his nausea and making him feel about two seconds from puking. He swayed but steadied himself on the pole in front of him, glaring at the ground to get it to stop moving. He glanced up and the woman from before had stepped in front of him, 

“Are you sure you're okay honey? You really don’t look so well. Why don’t you go to the hospital?” God, he really thought he was better at hiding this. He could barely keep his eyes open to keep the uncomfortable eye contact but he did it anyway. No way in hell was he going to the hospital. 

“I told you I’m fine, mind your own fucking business.” he spat. He expected her to be offended, maybe angry at his outburst, but she only looked sad. He didn’t like it. He managed to push past her and get off at his stop, and took an unsteady breath as they closed behind him. 

He spaced out for the rest of his walk, it wasn’t too far and by the time he reached his house his legs were shaking so terribly that he feared they would give out before his mom finally opened the door.

The sound of her footsteps were unmistakable. Her strides were fast and sure, echoing off the tile that made up their floors. He always thought it an odd choice, but more than once he’d been thankful when he had to clean blood off the floor. He had zoned out during that thought, staring at his shoes, which was a feat in itself with how fast his heart was beating. When suddenly a hand shot out and fisted in his shirt, dragging him into the house. He looked up, startled, into the face of his mother. Her eyes were dark, cold. He could see the anger simmering there, but the scariest part was that she seemed to be holding herself back. In a steely curt voice she said, “Go sit down, dinners ready.” She didn’t move, waiting for him to walk past her to the kitchen. He knew he couldn't trust the calmness she was trying to emulate. He felt like prey, and instinct was screaming at him not to turn his back to her. He grit his teeth and tried to calm his nerves as he dragged his feet along. Every part of him screaming to stay put. 

He felt more then saw her move behind him. He stopped, more from fear than from a choice to do so. This seemed to be the wrong thing to do as he felt her press even closer. A hand landed on his shoulder bruising on impact from her fierce grip, and her breath ghosted his ear. In her favorite false sweet tone she uttered, “Katsu, I’ve heard some things that are..concerning. They're not true right? You wouldn’t go against my wishes like that, right?” His mouth was dry and he fought not to struggle against her hold. He finally made his mouth form the words to reply when her nails started digging into his shoulder so hard they could draw blood.  

“..no” Anything he said would have been the wrong answer. He was soon proven right as he spun around so fast he almost lost his footing and was smacked harshly across the face. His eyes watered but he refused to let the tears fall. Couldn’t let her see how much pain he was in. 

“Don’t you DARE lie to me Katsuki! Are you even sorry for what you’ve done to me?! Do you know how embarrassed I was to get that call from your teacher?!” The false kindness lost from her voice as she screamed in his face. He was struggling to fight against the imaginary weight that was threatening to crush him, as his body tried to give out. He couldn’t let her see him weak. This was his only chance to prove himself. 

“I’m sorry.” Suddenly his body collided with something hard and unmoving. It took a second to register he had been thrown into the wall and she was still yelling. The second shove forced him to the ground. He tried to zone out as the kicks started. He vaguely registered where they hit. His shoulder, his ribs, his thighs. The only place that seemed to be spared was his stomach. Probably only since she didn’t want to clean up a mess. He heard her screaming but it was muffled to his ears. “You’re a LIAR! I have tried everything. EVERYTHING! ( Kick). I have done everything for you but you're just so PATHETIC! ( Kick) Why couldn’t you have just been like Izuku! Why did I have to have the child that needed to be fixed?! Why did I waste my time when you're just a selfish ( kick ) ungrateful ( kick ) worthless ( kick ) bully! ( kick .) Why don’t you just kill yourself instead of wasting my time. You’d be doing us all a favor...“

He didn’t make any noise, didn’t shield his face. Maybe, if he took the beating well enough she would be proud of him. He deserved this, he’d been messing up a lot lately. Maybe this would fix him. He repeated these things to himself until she tired herself out, at least he didn’t have to focus on standing. He let the darkness envelop him, a welcome reprieve from what he was experiencing. 

He woke up on the floor, in the same spot that he’d been before, and he groaned loudly before he caught himself. Slowly he opened his eyes through sheer force of will, praying she was no longer there. To his relief she was nowhere to be seen and when he strained to listen he couldn't hear her either. He took a second to collect himself and access the damage, trying to breathe and finding he couldn't easily. His entire body ached, especially his ribs. He just hoped nothing was broken. His head hurt just as bad as before, and the room was spinning. He didn’t know how long he’d been out for, but as much as he wanted to allow his eyes to close again and just rest, he couldn’t stay there. If she came back and he was still laying there, there was no guarantee that she wouldn't decide he needed to be punished again. Traitorously,  his eyes slipped closed a couple more times before his anxiety wouldn’t allow for it anymore and a new wave of agony washed over him as he made to sit up. He managed, and after a few minutes of deep breathing he forced his legs which were definitely bruised and shaking to support his weight. Taking the stairs up to his room was another matter, and took far longer than he wanted, and he had to resort to crawling up a few steps, but as soon as he made it to the bed relief washed over him and he passed out again, body connecting with the hard floor at the foot of his bed.

The next time he woke up was to banging downstairs. He felt as though he was burning up and shivering at the same time. Instantly, he was hit with a wave of nausea that caused him to have to drag himself up from the floor and crawl to the toilet. The retching aggravated his ribs and he just laid there. Splayed across the toilet as he struggled not to fall back asleep. That was until he heard his name being called from downstairs. Dread filled his senses. He didn't know if he’d be able to handle another punishment. No, he could do this. There were just two more days. Two days and he’d be fine.

He gathered all his strength into walking downstairs. He tripped over his own feet multiple times to get there. His mother was in the living room. Multiple bottles of liquor laying around her. His dad was on a business trip until tomorrow, and she always took the opportunity to get wasted when he wasn't home. He silently cursed at his dad for not being here. She was always at least slightly better when he was home. Even if he just ignored anything she did to him. 

He stopped in front of his mom, a few feet from the couch. Her words slurred as she spoke. “Katssuki, you knoww you still havee chores to doo. Or are you too sickk .” It was a trap and he knew it, she was just looking for an excuse to go off on him. So, he held in his sigh as he moved to the kitchen to start the dishes. He supposed it could be worse, at least he could get lost in the menial task. Anything to distract himself. That was probably why he didn’t realize she had come up behind him. Her arms snaked around his neck, leaning her weight on his back. He winced at the pressure the action put on his wounds. “Katsuki, dear, did you know?” Her tone held no malice but he’d been through too much to take it at face value. Still, a part of him hoped that maybe her drunkenness had made her more mellow. It didn’t matter that it never had before. Maybe, just maybe this was actual affection. He stayed quiet in fear of responding and causing her to change her mind. It didn't end up mattering as he felt her breath against his ear.

“You know I never wanted kids, but when it happened your dad was so happy, that I decided to keep you. I thought I could learn to want you. If I just made you perfect. If I had the perfect child I could be happy too. I thought I could love you Katsuki. I thought I could, but I can’t”. His stomach dropped to the floor, and he physically felt his heart crack. He’d had his doubts before, but he truly thought somewhere in there she cared for him. To hear from her own lips that she didn’t love him was more than he could bear. She whipped him around to face her, placing a bruising grip on his jaw and looking straight into his eyes. When he was little he used to love how much their eyes resemble each other. Now he wished more than anything that he could look into her eyes and not see himself. “I really tried. I did, but I can't fix you. You’re broken.” Her voice wasn’t angry, though he could see the disdain, and disgust in her eyes.

It only registered that the pitcher he was holding slipped out of his hands when he heard the resounding crash. It was deafening to his ears, and still he couldn’t look away from his mothers eyes. They didn’t change, not even responding to his mistake. It’s why he didn’t notice the hand raising until it had already smacked him across his face. 

He fell to the floor, landing on the broken glass, and glanced up to where he would usually see her towering above him, and she was, but this new angle let him see what was in her hands. A broken bottle she was holding by its neck. He told himself she wouldn’t, but when he glanced into her eyes they held no emotion, no care. His ears registered that there was sound coming from her lips but he couldn’t hear, all he could do was watch as her arm raised and slashed down. He felt as the glass sliced through his eyebrow and he closed his eyes instinctively as he felt it continue down his cheek. He braced for the next impact. The one that could kill him if she decided. He waited, his eyes closed, focused on the warmth of his blood sliding down his face. He waited, but it never came. He pried his eyes open against his instincts, to his father holding his mother back. She was thrashing against him and his father was yelling. He struggled to listen. “Let me go! I have to fix our mistake!” his mother screamed, drowning out his fathers words. It was a second later his fathers words filtered through his pounding head.

 “Run! Katsuki, run!” He drug his lifeless body under himself, and forced himself to stand on his shaking limbs. He blinked and he was outside. Barely two streets over. He lowered himself to the curb as he once again lost hold on his churning stomach. He didn’t care at the moment who watched. He felt like he was going to pass out. His entire body hurt, he could feel the blood sticking to his skin in multiple places, and he struggled not to cry out at the thought of what had happened. He didn’t know what to do. What could he do? He couldn’t go home, he couldn’t deal with this himself, as much as he wanted to he knew his consciousness was barely holding out and the thought of his vulnerable body being left exposed after he passed out terrified him. 

He needed to call someone. He remembered the slip of paper that Aizawa had given him and reached into his pockets, he felt nothing. He grabbed frantically at the material pulling it all the way out of his pocket. He didn’t understand, he didn- he’d changed after he got to the dorm. The number was still in his uniform. He couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid. So confident that he could handle this. Maybe he deserved to be out here. On the cold curb, realizing his own faults. He felt as the first few drops of rain landed on his arm. He thought about giving up, before he remembered Kirishima’s words.  “Promise me if something happens you’ll call me.” Reluctantly he reached for his phone and pulled up his contacts. He could barely see out of one of his eyes where the blood flooded into it, he was getting increasingly dizzy, and the corners of his vision were threatening to turn black. He pushed the number at the top. He knew he was breaking his promise to himself, but maybe he could keep his promise to Kirishima. He held his breath as the line rang. Once, twice, click. 

“Hello?! Bakugou is everything alright!?” Just the sound of his friend's voice broke him. His heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest, and he clutched at it to try to ground himself. Before he knew it tears were streaming down his face, mixing with the blood. He was sobbing into the receiver. He tried to hold it back but it didn’t work, even as his friend grew more frantic on the other line. 

“I can’t, I can’t do this an-anymore” he choked out. 

“Do what? Bakugou, are you hurt? Where are you?”

“I thought I could fix it, but I can’t. She-’ll never lo-ove me.” he managed as he started hyperventilating. 

“Bakugou, you need to breathe. Tell me what’s wrong!” 

“Hurts, I-’m so tired. So so tired.” he trailed off as his voice started to get quieter. 

“Bakugou? Bakugou! Have you called Aizawa yet?” 

“Can’t, forgot.”

“Okay, you’ll be okay. Where are you!?”

“Don kno, by house. Curb.”

“Bakugou! Stay with me.” He felt as his eyes started to slip shut in the way he’s felt many times before. It was comforting, even more so with his friend's voice in his ear. He tried to stay awake but before he knew it his vision was black, and he listened only to those last words of the call.

 “It’s going to be okay, I’ve got you, you’ll be okay…” 

He tried to believe them.       

Chapter Text

Swinging from rafter to rafter, eyes searching for the villain he was tasked with apprehending, he strained to see in the dark. The villain was a dangerous one with a quirk heavily suited to killing. Finally he spotted him with the hostages. He was holding onto a little girl who couldn't have been more than five. Resting his hand over her shoulder to where her heart would be. Her mother and father weeping nearby feeling powerless to protect their little girl. Not far away was a young man laying down in a puddle of blood, he hoped it wasn’t too late for him. From the information he’d been fed before entering the warehouse he knew the villain's quirk was touch activated, which allowed him to use the blood in his palms to take on the properties of weapons. This meant that not only would it take him seconds to form a spear which would plunge straight into that little girl's heart but he could see blood splattered on nearly all of the hostages. Whether that be from the man on the ground, their own injuries, or a strategy from the villain he didn’t know. Which is why it was imperative to not be discovered until he could get close enough to use his quirk and apprehend the villain. 

He slowly crawled across a beam above, getting the jump on the guy would be tough, it was an open area with sparse much else, and the guy definitely wasn’t meek looking. He was finally as close as he could get and while activating his quirk, jumped down, sweeping his legs under the villain and using his capture cloth to yank the child away while he was distracted. The crying child landed safely by her parents who ushered themselves and her back. The villian wasn’t down for long and immediately lunged forward with a stabbing motion before realizing there was nothing in his hand. Taking advantage of the situation Aizawa knocked him out and tied him up with his capture cloth for good measure. 

Soon the villain was loaded in the transportation vehicle, and everything else was taken care of. Thankfully it seemed it might not be too late for the boy who had been stabbed, most likely trying to be the hero and save the day. The thought made his heart stab since he was around the same age as his students. He was about to leave when the little girl from before timidly came up to him. 

“Thank you mister” she said, her eyes still wet with tears and still sniffling. He leaned down and softened his voice to talk to her. 

“You're welcome. I am sure you were scared.” She sniffled again before nodding.

“Well you were very brave, I’m sure your parents are very proud.” He said as he got up and patted her head, she smiled and then ran off with her parents again. 

He sighed as he turned around to leave once again. He was exhausted, after a full day of teaching and now hero work he wished desperately to just go back to his house and jump in bed. But he still had work to do. Now was around the time he was scheduled for actual hero duty so he started making his rounds. It was easily one of his more productive nights. The flare in activity probably stemmed from All Might's recent retirement. In short he hadn’t had any time to think before another mission was in progress. 

Finally he had a break, and had been relieved from duty by another hero. It was then that he finally remembered that he had yet to turn his phone back on from his earlier stealth mission. He cursed at himself for not having remembered it earlier. He knew better, he needed to always be reachable. The reason for that stared him in the face as he watched the screen blink to life. Several missed calls and a voicemail. This was his private phone which rarely got calls from anyone besides a select few, which set red flags off in his head immediately. Heart racing he pushed on the voicemail.  

“Sensei! We need your assistance as soon as possible! There is an emergency at the dorms, there is something wrong with Bakugou. I don’t know what is wrong and we aren’t sure what to do. Please hurry!” It was hard to hear over the commotion in the background but it was clearly Iida on the phone. His pulse thundered in his ears, his mouth dry. He was running even before the voicemail was finished, and he cursed as it ended. He had known that something was off with Bakugou. He had seen the blood on the collar, had seen his reaction. He’d been about to follow the boy when he’d been called out on the mission. He’d thought that he would be okay, at the dorm with friends. Apparently he had been wrong. Maybe he should have ignored his mission, he could have at least remembered to turn his phone back on! He had promised that he would answer no matter what, and he’d broken that promise. He only hoped that his mistake wouldn't have grave consequences. 

He raced towards UA pushing as fast as he could get his tired legs to go. Thankfully he wasn’t far from UA, and could get there in a few minutes. He was making headway, almost in view of the school when his phone rang again. He never stopped running but answered as fast as he possibly could. Before he could even manage to say hello another voice cut in.”Pick up! Hello?! Aizawa?!” He recognized the voice as Kirishima’s. His heart sank a little that it wasn’t Bakugou's voice. Then at least he would know he was okay.

“I’m here! What’s wrong?” He tried to keep his voice calm even though he felt anything but.

“Bakugou! It’s Bakugou! He’s in trouble! And I can’t- and I don’t” The words rushed and he was obviously freaking out.

“Kirishima, I need you to breathe and tell me what’s wrong. I’m on my way I got Iidas call-” 

“No!, no he's not there he went home!”

“What do you mean?” He cursed again silently, picking up his speed to impossible lengths. If he’s not at UA that means it would take even longer to get to him, and he still didn't even know what had happened at the dorm. Focused on getting that information he listened closely. Finally seeing his car in the distance.   

“He was at the dorms, and that was when he had some kind of episode. He went all stiff and he was jerking, he wasn’t responding! Even after it passed I knew something was wrong, I tried to get him to stay, I really did! He wouldn’t listen. I told him to promise to call me if something happened. He called. He was so upset, and crying and out of it, and I couldn’t help, and I’m not exactly sure where he is but I know he’s outside, and it’s raining, and oh my god he sounded so hurt. You need to find him, please find him.” Kirishma sounded frantic, barely keeping himself together and rambling.

“I'll find him, I’ll find him okay but you have to be more specific. Where did he say he was?”

“A curb somewhere by his house. I think he passed out after calling me, I’m not sure, but he wasn’t answering when I had to hang up to call you.”

“Okay, where are you, who’s with you?”

“My house. My mom got called into work so I’m here alone.” He mentally sighed. His students know they're supposed to hand in permission slips directly to him when they plan to go home for the weekend so he’d always know where they were. Apparently he needed to make a special point in class to remind them.

“Stay where you are, leave this to me. Everything is going to be fine.” He knew his students had a knack for taking things into their own hands, and he needed Kirishima to stay safe while he helped Bakugou. 

Bakugou, who passed out, had a seizure, was alone, in the rain, on some curb, possibly severely injured. He held his breath as he ran pushing his limbs to go faster, he needed to reach his car, he needed to reach his student. Soon he was in his car speeding towards the Bakugou residence. The rain hadn’t let up making his brow crease with worry evermore. His mind kept supplying scenarios of how he would find his student. Horrors which would flash to the forefront of his mind. He pushed them all away focusing on the only thing he could. Getting to his kid.

He was close enough to the Bakugous that he started straining his eyes to watch the sidewalk for any sign of him. Once he’d reached their residence he started to venture onto other connecting streets when he spotted the white sneaker in the dark. He had been so scared that he had already driven past him and missed him, that he let out a sigh of relief when he recognized the blonde hair.  He immediately stopped the car and threw himself from his seat, leaving the car door open in the process. What he saw as he got closer brought him to his knees. There Bakugou was lying on his side, face absolutely covered in blood. There was an obvious slash across his eyebrow and cheekbone, and he prayed the damage didn’t extend to his eye. As he tried to brush his hair out of his face he felt how cold his skin was. He saw the bruise covering the other side of his face. His heart wept for his student who was in pain and probably had been for a long time.  

He tenderly scooped Bakugou up into his arms, not sure of where his injuries were, and brought him to the car. Opening the passenger seat he set Bakugou down. Trying to get the other to wake. He did a quick check for more injuries, trying to ascertain how dire the situation was. He noticed small cuts littering his arms and legs which were bleeding slightly, and removed a piece of glass still sticking out from one of the bigger cuts. Then even though it felt like an invasion of his students privacy, lifted his shirt to get a better look. He obviously had bruised if not broken ribs, and he had almost stopped there. Closed the door and climbed back into the driver's seat, but something held him back. Slowly he removed the now soaked through beanie from Bakugou's head and gasped. A fairly large, slightly indented, red, and bleeding wound met him. His eyes stung with emotion when his brain processed what his eyes were seeing. What the beanie was hiding. The beanie that Bakugou has been wearing all week. He’d been hurt all week, suffering in silence. And he hadn’t noticed. “ God”  he whispered as he noticed the evidence of incomplete stitching. He couldn’t believe it. He had known that getting through to Bakugou would be hard. That the boy had been acting out of character, but the extent of his injuries was unbearable. Guilt slammed into him like a freight train. Then anger. How could his parents have done this? How could they do this to their own child? It took everything in him to stop himself from marching straight back to the Bakugous and beating them into a pulp but he restrained himself. First and foremost he needed to get Bakugou help. 

He closed the passenger side door and ran back to the other side of the car. He had never turned off the car so it didn’t take more than a second to be back on the road driving towards the nearest hospital. He didn't like it that Bakugou wasn’t waking up, he wished more than anything to hear some sort of retort from the blonde, but it didn’t seem like that was going to happen. So instead he focused on the road, going as fast as he could.

__________

He sat unseeing as the doctors updated him on Bakugou's condition. The many injuries he had, the condition he was in. How he was so exhausted that they couldn’t heal him using quirks, that he needed surgery. He clenched at his heart as breath seemed to escape him. He didn’t notice the doctor leaving. He didn’t remember the nurse leading him to Bakugou's room.

Bakugou looked so small on the bed, so pale with bandages covering so much of his face and head. Sleeping, it occurred to him how young he really was. He acted like he had everything together, but he was just a kid. He should have pushed harder, been more understanding, done something. But now it was too late. He sat next to him, simply keeping him company not knowing what to say. He stayed there just like that until the doctors came to take him away for surgery. 

“Wait, hold on.” he said as the doctors tried to move the gurney. He moved to Bakugou's side. Brushed the hair on Bakugou's forehead away from his eyes, and said earnestly. “I'm so sorry Bakugou. We’ll fix this, together I promise.” 

Chapter Text

The first thing that registered in his mind was the beeping. Then the all encompassing exhaustion. Every single part of him hurt, his eyes pulling heavily against his will. He tried to fight the darkness that kept trying to swallow him up, but kept failing. He didn’t know why, but he knew that there was something wrong. Something that he needed to be awake for, the feeling he still wasn’t safe. He moved to push himself up, to try to escape the clutches that sleep still had over him, but he only got a few inches up before his shaking limbs couldn’t handle it anymore. He crashed back into the soft fabric below him. His last remaining fight draining out of him, as he once again lost consciousness.

A sense of deja vu rushed over him as his consciousness once again registered that faint beeping, but this time his eyes didn’t feel quite so heavy. Slowly, and with great effort he cracked them open. The bright light immediately overpowered his senses causing him to wince before opening them even slower. Trying to give them time to adjust. The white ceiling was the first thing to come into focus, and he finally realized the beeping was that of his heart monitor. He tried to piece together what had happened that led to him being in the hospital, and his heart ached as he did so. He wanted to believe it was all just a dream, a nightmare induced from his anxiety. But he knew that to be false if only from the pain radiating from the left side of his face. He looked around, trying to gauge more of his surroundings when he realized he wasn’t alone. Recovery Girl came into his field of vision as she came to stand next to the bed. “Hello young man, how are you feeling?” she said as she positioned his bed to put him in a more upright position. His head hurt like hell and the rest of his body did too, plus he was still nauseous.

“Fine.” He said keeping eye contact to try to be as believable as possible. In response Recovery Girl sighed, looking back down at her clipboard.

“We know you’re not fine Bakugou. You had surgery. I know you're in a lot of pain right now. The nurse is coming by soon to give you your pain meds.” She then looked at him again, her eyes feeling as though they were piercing his soul. “You had to have known something was wrong, and been in a considerable amount of pain. Why did you wait so long to get help?” He hadn’t needed help. He could have just pushed through it. That traitorous voice in the back of his head reminded him that obviously he couldn’t handle it, or he wouldn’t be in this situation. The thought crushed him. Why couldn’t he have just handled it. Why did it have to come to this? He couldn’t blame anyone but himself, even if he wanted more than anything to be absolved from the guilt. Now he had made it even worse. He had dragged Recovery Girl into this mess, and for the life of him he couldn’t even come up with a believable lie. He broke eye contact, unable to keep it under her scrutiny. He was so tired, so tired that he found his lips moving before his brain fully filtered them. To his horror what left his lips wasn’t a lie, wasn’t some cleverly spun tale that would make everything okay. Make them forget. No, instead what came out, was the truth.

“I thought it would go away. I just had to push through and everything would be fine. It all would have been fine if I hadn’t been so weak.” He closed his eyes and leaned further against his pillow breathing deeply through his rising nausea, his anxiety making it so much worse. He didn’t want to see the look on her face. The knowing expression that would prove all these thoughts correct. She knew he was weak, he knew he was weak, everyone knew his greatest secret of all. He wasn’t strong, he wasn’t brave, he wasn’t hero material.

“You are anything but weak Bakugou.” a new voice said, it startled him and caused him to jerk his head in the direction of the sound, sending a wave of agony through his skull. It was Aizawa Sensei, how he hadn’t noticed his presence was beyond him, and a small voice in the back of his head was ashamed at not having better awareness of his surroundings. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, but you are not weak Bakugou. You are strong, resilient, and intelligent.You spark passion in your classmates to be better because you always give one hundred percent. You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished so far. Being strong doesn’t mean suffering in silence, or pushing through challenges on your own. There is strength in knowing when you need help, and I am proud of you for finally getting it.”

He appreciated the pleasantries, false as they may be. It was nice to hear kind words, appreciation for his hard work. No one had ever given him serious compliments, never recognized his efforts. He didn’t necessarily believe all of what Aizawa said to be true, but the words sent a pang through his heart that had his emotions simmering to the surface. “You shouldn’t be proud. I failed.” he said, his voice only slightly cracking as he fought the pain in his head, and the tightening of his chest.

“You didn’t fail. That was never something you should have gone through, I should have noticed how bad things had gotten. I am sorry that I didn’t reach out to you earlier.”

“I don’t need help, so there is nothing for you to apologize for.”

“No, I do. I’m your teacher, you should be able to feel like you can trust me. I know it is a little late, but please, let me in.” Bakugou clenched his hands as he thought about his teacher's request. He wanted so badly to tell him, to let him help. But he couldn’t bring himself to. Didn’t know where to start. His words felt trapped in his chest, unable to escape. His teacher was looking at him so earnestly, that he felt an immense guilt at staying quiet. He lessened that guilt by asking a question instead. A question that had been weighing heavily in the back of his mind, one he desperately needed to ask.

“Am I still allowed to go to UA?” There was nothing in his life that was more important than UA. At least his teachers' reactions so far didn't suggest that he would be expelled but he wasn’t positive, and he didn’t know how severe his injuries were.

“Of course you can still go to UA. You will probably need to take some time to recover, but you will be allowed to remain in the program.” The answer was a relief, but he couldn’t let himself relax, not until he asked his next question. It was silent for a moment as he worked up the courage. He couldn’t go back home. His mom had tried to kill him, so he’s sure she wouldn’t pay for his school. It was on the tip of his tongue when Aizawa spoke up again. “Bakugou, I want you to know that you will always have a spot in the program no matter what happens, no matter what you tell me, you won’t have to give up on your dream.” He couldn’t believe his ears. That had to be wrong, surely Aizawa didn’t know what he was saying.

“What- What if my parents didn’t pay the tuition?”

“UA has scholarships for promising students. You are third in the class academically, and an exemplary hero student. We could find a solution.” Could this really be true? Could he stay at UA? Could he still be a hero? He was busy getting lost in his thoughts when Recovery Girl spoke up again. He had forgotten she was there.

“Why don’t we go over your injuries and you could tell us how they happened. Okay?” It was an out. She was offering him an opportunity. His pride screamed at him not to take it, but, he was tired. Tired of lies, tired of hurting. He wanted it all to stop. He took a deep breath and nodded. “How did the head injury happen?” He bit his lip as he readied himself. All these years withholding the truth. All these years holding his tongue scared his next lie wouldn’t hold up. But now he didn’t need to. Now maybe the pain could stop.

He just couldn’t do it anymore.

“It was my mom. She did it. Last weekend, I was at the house with the hag and the old man. I messed up. She was furious. We started arguing and she- she slapped me and then grabbed my hair. She slammed my head into the sink, then I passed out.” It came out shaky but strong. He waited with baited breath staring at Recovery Girl, waiting to see what expression crossed her face. He didn’t risk looking at Aizawa, he wouldn’t be able to get everything out if he did. Especially because of what he had said earlier, he couldn’t stand the disappointment he knew he would find there. Fortunately Recovery Girl kept her face passive, simply nodding as she looked back down at the list.

“Okay, and the doctors said there seemed to be some stitching, did you do that too?” he nodded

“I knew it had to be treated, but I hadn’t been able to look at it until then. I tried to stitch it but I kept passing out and couldn’t fucking finish it.” He clenched his fists, still frustrated that he couldn’t finish the job. It was the only thing he had to do. The one thing that could prove he wasn’t weak , and he just couldn’t do it. He had done them before, it shouldn’t have been any different, it must have been him that changed. Him that got weaker. He held onto that frustration. It was easier to feel than the helplessness.

“What about the bruises and your cracked ribs?” There was silence for a moment as he tried to breathe. Flashes flickering through his mind against his will. This next part would be a little harder. He could feel his emotions swell before he even started speaking.

“I had to go home for the weekend. My mom was mad with how I’d been acting, at school, and at home. After getting the call from the school she was furious. When I got there she smacked me. Threw me against the wall, and kicked me.” He had noticed his teacher tense out of the corner of his eyes when he mentioned the call. He hoped he didn’t feel guilty. He had already sealed his fate before that happened, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell them what had caused the whole thing, it was too much even now. His eyes were starting to water just at the thought of what happened next, but he simply dug his nails into his hands to restrain himself.

“The cuts?”

“I dropped a pitcher when I was washing the dishes. Then when she smacked me I fell into it. She was so angry and drunk. I was scared of what she was gonna do. She said she didn’t.” He had to stop. Revealing to them his own mother, someone who was supposed to love him. Didn’t. Maybe then they’d realize he was irreparably damaged. A villian waiting to happen. He held his tears, biting so hard into his lip he could taste blood.

“It’s okay Bakugou, just tell us what you can.” his teacher said from his side. His tone was soft but not pitiful. A fact he was glad for, he didn’t think he could take pity at the moment.

“She was really pissed, and that was when she sliced my face open with a broken wine bottle. I think, I think she would have killed me, but my dad came home early from his business trip and held her back. He-” He laughed, a kind of frantic and crazy laugh, but a laugh. Who would have thought. His father, who pretended he didn’t exist, had been the one to save his life.”he told me to run. So I did. I got a block or two over before I called Kirishima.” His eyes were watering but he refused to acknowledge it, attempting to wipe them before they fell, holding his breath so he couldn’t sob. His teacher moved slowly. Deliberately placing his hand on his shoulder. It grounded him and he appreciated it even if he felt as though his skin was turned inside out, the grotesque innards of his life exposed for all to see.

“I am so sorry you had to go through that, You will never have to go back to that house again. I promise you.” Bakugou nodded back, eyes slightly closed. He was so exhausted, but even so he felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and it was taking everything in him to stay awake. It was then that a nurse came in to administer his pain meds. An act he was immensely grateful for as the pain was becoming unbearable. As he felt the drugs take effect he had to jolt himself awake multiple times, since he’d dozed off without meaning to. His teacher gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and said, “go ahead and rest, I’ll be right here when you wake up.” He took the advice.

__________

He watched as his kid drifted back to sleep. A small bead of blood lingering on his lips where he had bitten them too hard, his eyes red from withholding his tears. His heart ached for his student. He couldn’t even fathom the amount of pain and suffering he had to have gone through. Knowing he had a hand in that suffering was almost too much. He looked back to Recovery Girl who was still charting. “How is he? Medical wise?” She sighed as she peered down at the paper.

“The head wound alone would have been excruciating, in addition to other symptoms caused by it such as nausea, slurred speech, emotional outbursts, seizures, to name a few. It had to have been extremely scary, but trying to stitch closed your own head wound..he’s just a child.” she stopped, shaking her head and sighing softly. “I don’t know how he did it. The wound was also infected. Probably due to inadequate cleaning and care of the wound. The cuts and ribs will heal on their own but they will also be extremely painful. The gash on his face missed his eye, fortunately, but he was so exhausted I couldn’t use my quirk to aid in healing. It will probably scar. He's extremely lucky, things could have taken a turn for the worse very easily. It is a good thing he was brought to the hospital when he was. I just don’t understand how a mother could do something so horrific to her own child.” Aizawa turned once again towards Bakugou. The same feelings that took over his body when Bakugou was in surgery overwhelming him again, he had prayed with all of his might that he be given the chance to make things right. Every bone in his body yearned to protect the child in front of him, now that he had that chance he would not fail his student. He could not take back the things that had happened in the past, but he would make damn sure that it would not happen ever again.

Chapter Text

The next couple days in the hospital went by in a blur. He hadn’t wanted to see his friends yet, his emotions still too raw. He’d been so exhausted that he spent most of his time sleeping, but now the pain in his ribs and his head lessened somewhat, and the nausea was gone. He looked up at Recovery Girl as she got closer to give him one of her healing kisses. He immediately wiped off his cheek. 

“There you are, this is our last session. You’ll be able to be discharged tomorrow.” she said as she walked back over to her clipboard. 

Unease settled in his stomach at her words. Aizawa had said that he didn't have to go back to his house, but where was he supposed to go? Would he be placed in a random foster house? What if they were just as bad? He’d heard horror stories about foster families before. It was part of the reason why he’d kept quiet all these years. And what about his things? All he had were the clothes that he’d left home in. 

“What's going to happen to me?” he said, not willing to leave the question unanswered. 

“Don’t worry Bakugou, Aizawa is going to be here soon to explain everything. It’s all going to be okay.” he wanted to believe her, but so far adults have let him down. He nodded and she smiled a little before leaving the room and closing it behind her. It was probably only another twenty minutes before Aizawa came into the room. 

“Bakugou, how are you feeling?” 

“Fine.” he replied automatically. Aizawa didn’t respond, obviously waiting for him to elaborate. Sighing Bakugou relented,“my nausea is gone and my head hurts less than it did.” 

“That’s good to hear,” Aizawa said, coming up to stand to the right of Bakugou. The good side that he could see out of since the other side was still covered by a bandage. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. You can say no, I just want you to know it is an option.” Bakugou nodded, waiting for him to go on. “If it is alright with you, after you get discharged I would like to offer my residence as a place for you to stay.”

“You want me to stay with you?” Bakugou said, not quite believing his ears. There’s no way that Aizawa wanted him to stay with him. He was weak, a failure. Why would he want to be around him any more than he had to? 

Aizawa nodded, “I do. If you would rather stay in the dorms full time we can do that as well; as we are doing for Todoroki.” Todoroki was staying in the dorms full time? He knew half and half had a rocky relationship with his father but he wasn't aware that he was no longer living with him. 

He looked towards Aizawa who was looking at him earnestly. It would be kinda weird, living with his teacher. He almost wants to say no, but he doesn’t want to disappoint him. It was nice of him to offer, even if he didn’t know how much trouble Bakugou really was. 

“I'll stay with you, I guess.” he said slowly. He scanned his teacher's face taking into account his facial expressions and body language. Judging by the minute tension that seemed to seep from his shoulders it seemed he had chosen the correct answer. 

“Okay, that’s great. I am happy to hear that Bakugou.” he said, looking into his eyes in that weirdly earnest way again. “When you can be discharged I’ll take you straight to my place and we can get you settled in.” Bakugou nodded, not really trusting his voice and feeling way too vulnerable at the moment. 

“I have to go patrol but I will see you tomorrow, ok?” He waited until Bakugou nodded again before he left. Bakugou had a lot to think about. He should feel better. He was out of that house, he knew he wasn’t going to be expelled, and everything hurt a lot less. But he really didn’t. His anxiety was still thrumming in his chest; refusing to simmer. His heart still ached almost more than he could bear. 

Flashes of memories kept resurfacing in his brain even as he tried his hardest not to think about it. The look in her eyes, the wine bottle, the words, the blood- he cringed and closed his eyes to try to stop the onslaught of thoughts bounding through his head. This feeling wasn’t anything new to him; like there was an anvil hanging over his head waiting to crush him underneath it. But at least before he knew what was coming. Could expect the hurt and pain. Knew how to proceed, could make goals in his mind. Before he had been aiming to just survive the weekend. Now he didn’t know what to expect. He was playing a new game without knowing any of the rules. What did Aizawa expect of him? Why wasn’t he more angry at him for lying? Nothing made any sense. 

Exhaustion still clung to him, exacerbated by Recovery Girls’ kiss, but he fought the way his eyes kept closing against his will. He wanted to sleep, he really did, but he knew he’d just have to relive it over and over again. 

Eventually he had lost the battle, and when he opened his eyes again it was to nurses checking his vitals. Eventually the doctor came in and cleared him to be released, and he sat there waiting for Aizawa to arrive. He watched the clock anxiously, playing with his hands as he waited. Finally, Aizawa came through the door. 

“Good morning Bakugou. Are you ready?” He said as he came in and stood to the side of him. 

“As I’ll ever be.” Aizawa seemed to root around in a duffle bag that was on his shoulder and pulled out some clothes. 

“Here,” he said, handing them over. “Your other clothes were dirty and had holes in them,” hesitantly Bakugou reached over and grabbed them. They were soft. “Do you need any help?” Aizawa said, a teasing lilt to his voice. 

“Tch. I’m not a fucking invalid. I can do this much.” he huffed as he stomped his way to the adjoining bathroom, slamming it shut behind him. 

“Language,” he heard Aizawa chastise from the other room. Whatever. He took a closer look at the clothing. Black joggers, a dark grey t-shirt, and a bright red hoodie. As he slowly pulled on the clothing he was surprised to find that they all fit perfectly. Even if the hoodie was a little big, though he appreciated it. It was very soft, and the slightly oversized aspect made it feel like a blanket. He liked the color too. He wasn’t really sure why but it reminded him of something and made him feel all warm inside. Weird. 

He walked out to find Aizawa talking with a nurse who had pulled a wheelchair into the room. “I’m not sitting in that.” He said in the direction of the nurse. She turned towards him, placating smile in place.

“Hospital policy.” she replied.

“I can walk fucking fine.” he repeated. Her smile never faltered and she just continued staring at him. Aizawa sighed. 

“Language Bakugou. Just sit down. Let the poor nurse do her job.” Bakugou stared at them for a moment before relenting. Truthfully he was still a little bit unsteady. Not that they needed to know that. 

“Whatever.” he huffed as he finally sat down. Being wheeled through the hospital was embarrassing to say the least but it was thankfully short and soon he was sitting in Aizawa’s car headed to his house. It was silent. The only noise coming from the radio which was playing quietly in the background. It probably should have been awkward, but it really wasn’t. Maybe it was because Aizawa was always quiet but whatever it was— was nice. It wasn’t that different from riding with the hag, but he didn’t have to worry about Aizawa randomly yelling or smacking him in the back of the head…probably. He glanced over at him, making eye contact, and he guessed Aizawa took that as a sign to start up a conversation, 

“We're almost there. You’re not allergic to cats right?” Cats? He looked at Aizawa again and ya, that tracks. 

“I don’t think so. Haven’t been around any. The Hag… didn’t like animals.” Aizawa seemed to study him a moment before replying. 

“I have three, they’re friendly so you don’t have to worry about them.” 

“Tch, who's worrying? A little fur-ball isn’t going to scare me.” He said, turning to the window again. Aizawa just hummed. He figured he should put a little more effort into the conversation. He filtered through a couple questions he could ask. 

“What’s their names?” Aizawa turned towards him, his eye brow arched in question, “Your cats.”

“Toma, Mittens, and..” Bakugou turned to look at Aizawa at the pause.

“And?” 

Aizawa sighed, “Picklebutts.” Bakugou huffed out a laugh despite himself. Seeing Aizawa of all people saying something like Picklebutts was downright hilarious. Aizawa seemed put upon but smiled a little at his chuckle. 

“Picklebutts?? You’ve gotta be joking.”

“Yes, well I didn’t pick out the name.” Huh? Then who did. 

“Who-”

“Ah, we’re here” and Bakugou's attention was drawn to the house they were parked in front of.

It was moderately sized, and nice. Which he expected since Aizawa was a pro-hero and a teacher. He probably made quite a bit. It was tan on the outside and seemed to have a kinda modern look. He got out of the car and followed Aizawa up the steps. 

As they entered the house the first thing he noticed was the scent of citrus. It was clean, but warm. His house always smelled of cleaning supplies, and not the good smelling kind. More like a hospital since his mom wanted everything clean and insisted strong fragrances gave her migraines. He liked this smell more. 

The second thing he noticed were the cats. Two were near him, having been waiting by the door. They were small but probably adults. One was orange and short haired and one was brown with longhair. The brown one came up to rub against his pant leg and he stayed very still. He didn’t want to scare the thing. 

“That’s Toma. The most friendly. The orange one is Pickle. You can pet them if you want.” He looked down at the fluffy thing and then down at his hands. His hands that could explode things and secreted toxic chemicals. He wanted to pet the cat, it’s fur looked incredibly soft, but decided against it. It was safer not to. 

“I’m alright.” he said as he moved further into the house. It had an open layout. The living room was towards the front of the area, a large worn dark brown couch with big pillows and a couple throw blankets. Then behind it and to the side was a small table with chairs and to the right a fairly large kitchen with a bar. The decor was warm and had earthy tones. It wasn’t messy but there was clutter. Different knicknacks lined the shelves, different pictures hung on the walls. It was nice, and very different from his own house. For one the floors were carpet and hardwood. They would be a lot harder to clean up blood off of. The color palette was also totally different. His old house was pretty much white, with black furniture. A few pieces of art here and there to add some character. This house was full of sun and plants.

“Let me give you a tour.” Aizawa said as he wandered further and led him into a hallway. “You’ve seen the living room and kitchen. They went through the first archway and entered a small room with a chair that hung from the ceiling with a rug and a large bookcase. “This is a reading area of sorts. There's a bathroom to the right of it” They then went back into the hallway. There were two doors to the left and one at the end of the hall. They stopped in front of the first door. “This is where you’ll be staying.” The room was fairly large with a big bed set up on one side with a nightstand and a dresser on the opposite wall. “It was a guest room before so sorry if it’s a little bare. We’ll have to get you a desk and some other things you like to make it more homey.” They were going to buy things? For him? Things he liked? 

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” Aizawa said.

“Why would I need anything?” The Hag had chosen everything for his room. It had to match the rest of the house so he’d never been able to make any choices about it. His room back at his house had the bare essentials and it worked just fine. 

“Well, you need a desk for schoolwork, and even if you don’t need something that doesn’t mean you can’t want it. This is where you’ll be staying, that means you can decorate it how you want to.” It didn’t really make a lot of sense to him but he figured he’d drop it. He still didn’t really know where the line was on arguing. He hadn’t really worried about it at school but now he was in his house which made it more important. 

“I guess,” he finally said. Aizawa stared at him for a second more before moving back into the hall. 

“The other two rooms are bedrooms, and my room is at the end of the hallway behind the kitchen. You can either hangout in here, come into the living room, or take a shower if you want. I’m going to start on dinner. It'll be ready in an hour. Doesn't matter to me either way.” 

“I’ve been stuck in that bed forever. I’d kill for a shower right now actually.” He said. He hadn’t taken a proper shower in what felt like weeks, especially with his head wound, he felt super gross. 

“Alright. There’s a change of clothes in your dresser. Towels are in the linen closet. You can use anything in the shower.” Hold up. There’s clothes in his dresser?

“Why are there clothes in my dresser? Did you get them from my dorm room?” Honestly he’d be pissed if Aizawa had gone in there without asking. His dorm was the only thing he had that was away from The Hag. It didn’t differ much from his old room since he didn’t have money of his own but still. It was his space.

“No, I just picked up some essentials you may need. I hope they fit, I asked the department that made your costume for your measurements and guessed off that. I apologize if that was invasive of me, I just wanted to make sure you had something to wear.” He didn’t think he had ever had a conversation this long with Aizawa, which was weird on its own, but he had figured he’d get a couple hand-me-downs to wear until he could go to his dorm. Wait, did that mean what he was wearing now was his too?

“So, I get to keep this?” he said pointing at the hoodie. Aizawa stared at him in an impassive way as if he wasn’t sure how Bakugou wasn’t getting it. 

“Yes.” 

He didn’t know how else to respond, so he just muttered, “Um, thanks I guess.”

“You're welcome. Now, go shower.” He said before leaving him in his room.

He gets that Aizawa asked him to stay with him, but why was he acting like it was so permanent. Buying things for him was unnecessary. He walked over to the dresser and tentatively pulled it open. Bare necessities were underselling it by a lot. The top drawer was filled with socks and underwear. The second drawer had three colors of solid t-shirts and a couple pairs of jeans, and the third drawer had three pairs of sweatpants and two more hoodies. At most he needed only one pair of extra everything. He could just wash one while wearing the other. This was excessive. He pulled out a white shirt and gray pair of sweatpants with simple black undergarments. Which he would not think too much about the fact that his teacher was buying him underwear. Nope. 

He walked back to the bathroom and grabbed his towel before getting in. He avoided looking in the mirror even to take off the bandage over his eye. The water was comforting, he finally felt clean for the first time in forever and the soap smelled nice. He tried not to take too long, he didn’t know the rules on what was allowed so he only stayed in long enough to make sure he was clean. He got dressed in the t-shirt and sweats and then pulled the red hoodie back on. It was clean enough and he liked the color. He felt around to replace the gauze over his eye. It was healed by now, but he still wasn't ready to face the scar. He knew that made him weak. Knew he was proving his mom right. He was broken. Even your own mother couldn't love you. Saw you for the failure that you are. It's only a matter of time until Aizawa see's what a selfish, useless, brat you are. He tried to push the thoughts away, even as they just made his anxiety skyrocket. He stood in front of the door and took a deep breath before opening it. He stood there for a moment, straining to listen. Get some sort of read on what he would be walking back to. He could smell the food— ramen, if he had to guess. He heard Aizawa talking softly, but there was a second voice he recognized but couldn’t place. He walked into the room slowly. Steps light enough to not make any noise. A skill he earned from his mother. At least she had helped him with that. He came around the corner to see a familiar head of hair. 

What the fuck was Present Mic doing in Aizawa’s kitchen? It wouldn’t be that strange if he was like sitting at the bar or something, but no. He was hugging Aizawa from behind. He would have thought he was dreaming if he didn’t know better. He cleared his throat, not really sure if he was meant to see this. “Um..”

Present Mic quickly detached from Aizawa, who didn’t even turn around. A large grin broke across his face and his arms came up excitedly “HEY THERE LITTLE LISTENER!” Aizawa cringed from beside him. 

“Hizashi mind the volume” he chastised. 

“Oops, sorry about that I’m just excited!”

“Right…So anyone wanna explain what's happening here.” Bakugou said.

“What do you mean?” Present Mic said with a look of innocence on his face. Bakugou just stood there looking from Aizawa to Present Mic before it finally seemed to click. He turned towards Aizawa and swatted him on the arm. “You didn't tell him?!” 

“Tell me what?” he said suspiciously. Aizawa finally turned towards him.

“We’re married.” he thinks his brain short circuited. Todoroki was right?! He can’t believe that one of those conspiracy stories finally hit its mark.

“You’re married to the Cockatoo? Really?” 

“Unfortunately.” drawled Aizawa. 

“Hey!” The Cockatoo squealed indignantly. Which was mildly funny, but more importantly it wasn’t just Aizawa here? He had seen the other bedrooms but hadn’t really thought too much about it. 

“And your...okay with the fact I’m here?” he asked because it was enough of a miracle that the Caterpillar wanted him there. But two Pro heroes? Wait, maybe that was why. Two pros could definitely keep him in check better than one. 

“Of course, little listener! I’m super happy you’re here!”

“Hizashi was the one who picked out most of your clothes.” 

“Yep! They all work okay?”

“Ya they're fine.” he said, coming to sit on the barstools in front the counter slowly. His brain still trying to connect the dots in his head. How could these teo be toegther? They were like polar opposites. “Anything else I should know?” 

Hizashi was facing him, leaning his arms on the counter to support his head. “Hmm, well I don’t know what Shouta has told you but Eri and Hitoshi also live here. We’ve officially adopted them both.” Again?! Todoroki was two for three? 

“You're kidding. At this point I’m starting to wonder if Deku really is All Might's secret love child.” He heard Aizawa huff a laugh from behind them but Present Mic just seemed confused.

“Shouta, did you really not tell him anything?” Aizawa just shrugged his shoulders. 

“I thought we’d tell him after dinner. Bakugou, Eri is staying at Hizashi’s mother’s house and Hitoshi is at a friends so you don’t have to worry about meeting them tonight. They’ll be back tomorrow.” A bowl of ramen was put down in front of him. He could tell by the amount of oil that it was probably spicy, which he appreciated. “Let’s eat at the table and talk. Afterwards we can watch a movie if that’s alright with you.” It was odd. How they kept asking him what he wanted to do instead of just telling him. 

He moved over to the table and sat down on the opposite side of them. 

“So, Bakugou. What’s your favorite color?”

“What are we fucking five?” it left his lips before he really thought about it and on second thought maybe he should try not to piss off the people who were giving him a place to stay, but to his surprise the Cockatoo just chuckled. And Aizawa just told him to watch his language again. 

“Well if we’re going to decorate your room we’ll need a color palette.” He didn’t get it. He was staying here for maybe two-three years, unless he got kicked out before that, until he was eighteen and could live on his own. Why did they want to spend money on him? 

“You don’t have to do that. I don’t need that much shit.” Present Mic just looked at him with concern, which was annoying. 

“We want you to feel comfortable here Bakugou. You’ll be staying with us for a while, we want this place to feel like home.” They weren’t listening, but he’ll humor them. Not like they'll actually end up doing anything anyway. It was probably just talk.

“Orange and green.” he finally said. Present Mic smiled at him. 

“Like your hero suit?” 

“Ya.” 

“I like it! Those will look really good together.” Of course they would, what did he think he’d pick ugly colors for his hero suit? “By the way, you can call me Hizashi and Aizawa, Shouta.”

“I think I’ll stick to Cockatoo and Caterpillar, thanks.” Cockatoo seemed to deflate at his answer which vaguely worried him, before he seemed to pick right back up. They had all been eating for a bit but it was taking Bakugou longer to eat than them. How were they eating so fast? If he didn’t hurry up he wouldn't even get through half his bowl before they had to clean up. Present Mic had finished and Aizawa was on his last few bites by the time someone spoke again. 

“What kind of movie do you feel like watching?” It was Aizawa who asked and he really hated being the center of the conversation for this long. 

“Whatever, I don't care.” He really didn’t. He hadn’t watched that many movies since he usually had to train or study. It was then that Aizawa took his last bite. He internally sighed. It was a shame that he couldn’t keep eating, the ramen was actually pretty good. He stood up and grabbed his own bowl and moved to grab theirs.

“Are you finished?” Present Mic asked. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Are you full? Done with your food.”

“But, you're done with yours.” Present Mic seemed to frown in confusion. Had he done something wrong? 

“What does that have to do with anything?” What wasn’t clicking? They were done so he was done. That was what The Hag always said, ‘Families finish dinner together.’ If they were done so was he, and then he had to clean the dishes. That’s how it was. 

“I have to clean the dishes when you're done.” They were both staring at him now. Had he messed up? Was there a different rule here? “Is there a different rule? I can do that instead.” After a long moment it was Aizawa who spoke.

“There’s no rule. Don’t worry about us, just eat until you're full and then I’ll do the dishes.” Which made zero sense. Was this a test? He didn’t move, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When after a moment nothing happened he slowly moved to sit back down. 

“You’re sure?” They both nodded at him. Slowly he lifted the noodles back to his mouth, and when nothing happened he continued to eat. He didn’t like that he didn’t understand the rules here. Wasn’t sure what was okay to do and what wasn’t. Aizawa stood up and for a second he thought he messed up again but he simply took his and the cockatoo’s bowls and went to wash them. After Bakugou ate he tried to take his bowl over to the sink to wash it as well but Aizawa simply held his hand out. 

“I can do it.” Bakugou said, not handing it over. 

“So can I.” Aizawa replied. He thought about fighting more but decided to just hand the bowl over. “Go sit on the couch and find a movie to watch with Hizashi. I’ll be over when I’m done." He nodded and went to the couch where the Cockatoo was already scrolling through different titles. Something seemed to grab his attention as he clicked on one. 

“Have you seen this one?” he asked. Bakugou looked at the screen. Whatever it was looked really stupid but again, he should probably play nice. They even let him finish his dinner.

“No, looks good.”

“It is! You’ll love it” he replied excitedly and pressed play. That was when Aizawa came back to sit on the couch with a plate of cookies in his hands. He handed one over to Present Mic before he turned to Bakugou. 

“Want one?” Bakugou reached out and said a quiet thanks before turning back to the screen. As soon as it started there was a blanket tossed at him, which he appreciated. It was soft and warm and smelled good. 

“Hizashi, this again? It wasn’t good the first time.” Aizawa said as the scene started to play. 

“Crybaby is a classic!” 

“Classically atrocious maybe” Aizawa murmured under his breath.

“Hey! I heard that!”

“You were meant to.” 

Bakugou settled in against the couch cushion which was also plush, unlike the shiny leather one his parents had. The movie was bad, but he thought it was meant to be. It was entertaining at least, even if it wasn’t one of his new favs. He actually had been watching it but the warmth was lulling him into a false sense of security and he was slowly drifting off. He tried to fight it but before he knew it a soft voice was calling him and a light hand moving his shoulder. 

“Bakugou, Bakugou, wake up. You need to move to your bed. You’ll sleep better there. Bakugou.” God he hated that name. It just brought up bad memories whenever he heard it. Why would he want to be called by a name that just represented the family that didn’t and never had, loved him. 

“Katsuki.” The hand stopped moving him. 

“What?” 

“Katsuki. Not Bakugou,” he murmured, eyes still closed only really half awake. 

“Alright, I can do that. I’m going to lift you up and take you to your room okay?” 

“Okay” he practically whispered. He felt as he was lifted, and wanted to care, but right now he really just felt safe. The anxiety was still in the back of his mind but in his state between awake and asleep everything was fuzzy. He felt the bed beneath him and the blanket that went over him and let himself drift off back to sleep.

Chapter Text

Hizashi was currently staring at his coffee mug, trying to wake up fully. Mulling over all that had happened. Bakugou had been quiet. Quieter than he’d ever seen the kid. He could understand why; they didn’t know the whole story but what they did know was heartbreaking in and of itself. How Katsuki could survive that long in that kind of environment… 

He’d noticed some things in their brief interactions. How Katsuki was constantly studying their faces, watching for their reactions. How he always had his shoulders drawn up, not truly relaxing until he was asleep.

He had fallen asleep mid-movie, likely still exhausted from his stay in the hospital and all the new changes. He'd tried to wake him up so that he could sleep in his own bed. He'd thought carefully about how to proceed. If this was Eri he would have snatched her and carried her to her room. She’d warmed up to them enough that she no longer was afraid of their touch, but he knew the same probably couldn’t be said for Bakugou. He’d learned with Hitoshi that he needed to be slow and deliberate. Hitoshi was not someone who liked physical contact most of the time. He wasn’t sure where Bakugou landed on the spectrum but it was best to be safe. He called his name softly, only venturing to lay a soft hand on his shoulder when he didn’t stir. He watched Bakugou’s face for signs that he was waking up, noting how Bakugou’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Bakugou, Bakugou..” 

“--tsuki.” Bakugou whispered, barely audible to his ears. 

“What?” he whispered. 

Then slightly louder, probably more awake— yet still not fully— he repeated himself, “Katsuki. Not Bakugou.” His heart sank at the words. Not because Bakugou had asked him to call him by his first name, but because of what it insinuated. He was letting go of his last name, of everything it stood for. Whatever happened had hurt him deeply, and looking at this boy, so rough around the edges but calm and serene in his sleep, he wished he could stop his pain. But he couldn't, he could only be there for him. So he replied. 

“Alright, I can do that.” His next move was more risky, still not sure what was okay with Baku- Katsuki. “I’m going to lift you up and take you to your room okay?” He didn’t move until Katsuki had murmured an ok. He slowly gathered him in his arms, and tried not to cry at how Katsuki leaned into the touch. He walked slowly towards the bed and set him down; grabbing the throw blanket and settling it over him. It was official, Katsuki would always have a place in this house. Even if he decided not to stay with them at some point. As far as he was concerned he’d just gained another son. 

The next morning he made sure to get up extra early. Shouta had left to go on patrol so he set about making breakfast after finishing his coffee. He was halfway through making the pancakes when he heard Katsuki’s footsteps drawing closer. 

“Morning Katsuki!” he said in a cheerful tone. He watched as he stilled for a moment, surprise coming over his features before seeming to resolve some inner conflict. 

“Mornin’” 

“I’m making pancakes, do you want anything special on them?” 

“I could have made breakfast.” he replied instead of answering the question. That was another odd thing he’d noticed. Katsuki had some weird reservations surrounding food. Had his mom used it as some form of control? That was the only way to explain why Katsuki had gotten up before being finished just because they were, and didn’t see why that was a problem. 

“I enjoy making breakfast, don’t worry about it.” He said making sure to smile at Katsuki to show his sincerity. “Come sit. What do you want on your pancake? We have bananas, chocolate chips, whipped cream, and syrup.” 

“Whipped cream.” he finally murmured. “Thanks.” 

“Coming right up! After we eat do you think you’d be up for running a couple errands? I need to pick up some ingredients for dinner and we could also swing by the store to pick up any essentials like the shampoo you use or some decor for your room. Or we could just take it easy today and I could go myself after Shouta comes back.” He tried to give options as much as he could so Katsuki could feel like he had some control. He gets a glare in return.

“Tch- I can handle grocery shopping.” 

“Okay then, after breakfast we can get going,” he said as he set the pancakes down in front of Katsuki. He took a second to look at the boy. He’d changed into jeans, but he still had on the same hoodie. He also still had that bandage over his eye, although it was probably already healed by now. He took a seat next to him, and they ate in silence. 

“What do you usually spend your time doing?” he asked, because really he didn’t know much about Katsuki. He taught him English, and was the commenter for some class exercises but he hadn’t really talked to him one on one. All he knew was that he was an A student and a menace on the battlefield. 

Katsuki seemed to hesitate for a moment before replying, “I run.”

“Oh, you enjoy running? Did you ever try cross country?” 

“Not sure if enjoy is the right word, but it’s useful for training.”

“Well then what about for fun?” Katsuki looked vaguely confused for a second before looking back down at his pancakes.

“I guess I..can cook. Though that’s not something I can use as a hero.” 

“That’s great! Cooking is a really good skill to have! Did you teach yourself?”

“Ya, my-the Hag and the Old Man were gone a lot when I was younger, on business trips. I learned to cook from YouTube videos." The response had red flags blaring in his head. Katsuki was only fifteen. Which meant ‘when he was younger’ was very young. Did he have to fend for himself as a little kid? Did they seriously leave him all alone?

“That’s impressive. How old were you?” He watched as Katsuki smirked, obviously soaking up the praise. 

“Six or seven. I could always take care of myself. I only burnt myself once or twice before I got the hang of it. One time I needed a bowl that was above the stove so I climbed up there, but I forgot the stove was still hot. I stepped right on the burner! Hurt like a bitch but I never did it again!” he laughed, like it was a fond childhood memory. 

“Oh wow, that does sound painful. Did you have to go to the hospital?” 

“No they weren’t home so I had to fix it up myself. Back then I was weak and cried over nothing, so when they got home I started bawling and tried to show the Hag but she said I deserved it for not being more careful.” he shrugged, “It healed fine, and I was more careful after that so I guess she was right.” 

He forced a smile, but his stomach twisted. Six years old. Fixing his own burns. And still thinking it was his fault. He was telling this story like it was normal, an everyday occurrence everyone went through. He had to track lightly, push too hard and he'd clam up. Don't push enough and they'd never get anywhere.

“Most kids wouldn’t have handled that as well as you did. I’m glad you were ok, but just so you know, none of that was your fault. You shouldn’t have been left alone like that.”

“Na, It was fine. It’s different for me.”

“Why?”

“It just.. is.” He could tell from Katsuki's body language that any further discussion on the topic wouldn't end well so he decided to let it rest. Katsuki had a lot of trauma, it would take time for him to realize the extent of what he’d been through. How bad his parents' treatment of him actually was. He paced himself as he ate this time, watching how much of Katsuki’s plate was eaten so that he wouldn’t finish before him. He looked like he lost some weight. He needed all he could get.

After they had both finished he started cleaning up; setting the dishes in the sink to wash later. Shouta would probably yell at him for that, and he saw the way Katsuki eyed the dishes but he ushered them out the door before he could try to wash them for them. They drove in relative silence with just the radio to keep them company, and before too long they pulled up to the store. 

“Ready?” he said as he unbuckled his seatbelt. He just got a hum in reply but it was enough. Katsuki followed him in, walking behind him, but not too close. He walked up to the vegetables, grabbing whatever caught his eye to stick in the bag. 

“Are you trying to grab all the bad ones?” Katsuki said gruffly from where he’d moved to watch him. He looked back down at the bell peppers he was currently shoving into a bag. 

“Um, no?” he said uncertainly. Katsuki moved to snatch the bag from him and poured out all he had collected. 

“Tch- You have to make sure they’re heavy and shiny. All the ones you picked are dull and wrinkly.” he stopped for a moment glancing up, “You’re cooking these right?” 

“Yes, they're for a stirfry.” he replied, not entirely sure why that was important. Katsuki just nodded before turning his attention back to the vegetables. 

“For cooking you want the ones with three chambers. If you’re just eating them you want them to have four.” he said before handing the bag back over. “Here these should be good.”

“Wow, you sure know a lot about ingredients.” he replied, an idea forming in his head. He then pulled the grocery list out of his pocket. “Here, think you can handle the rest? I trust your judgment more than mine,” he said with a smile. Katsuki took the list without answering but stalked over to the next thing on the list anyways. He’d noticed that Katsuki was itching for something to do. At least this way he could contribute using something he liked to do and was knowledgeable in. 

He followed Katsuki through the produce section, listening closely as the boy rattled off tips about each vegetable like he was giving a seminar. Every detail was sharp and precise — which peppers to use, how to pick out ripe tomatoes, why you should always check under the onions for soft spots. It was nice to see him confident again, in his element. After he had finished with the vegetables and fruits he had returned to trailing behind Hizashi, and they approached the hygiene aisle.

“Why don’t you pick out a shampoo, conditioner, and body wash?” He’d probably feel more comfortable using his own products. Plus, it would give him some control. He watched as Katsuki probably thought about refusing before he hesitantly walked over to the bottles. He stared at them for a second, like it was a test he hadn't studied for. Hizashi kept quiet, trying to be patient even though all of him wanted to reassure him to just pick whatever he wanted. He watched as his hand slowly hovered over an unscented body wash for a moment before he seemed to change his mind. His eyes flicked over to a different line of scents. Something with a scent called Amber Fire, ‘warm amber, smoked sugar, and cedar’ it said on the front. He stood there for a second more before grabbing it. 

“This is fine.” he said and threw it in the cart. 

“That one it is then.” They walked further into the aisle til they were in front of the shampoo and conditioner but this time Katsuki seemed more confident. He grabbed the shampoo and matching conditioner without a second thought, again a warm scent. This time he set it into the cart. It seemed like progress, and he’d take what he could get.

They walked the store a little longer, collecting essentials: a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant. Hizashi made sure Katsuki chose each item himself, even if it took a few extra minutes. He would’ve liked to pick out something for the boy’s room — a blanket, maybe, or a lamp — but he could tell they were approaching Katsuki’s invisible spending limit. So he let it go for now. They checked out, loaded the bags, and headed home. They rode back in silence, it seemed like Katsuki was tired from their little excursion so he dozed off, head leaning against the window. 

As they pulled into the driveway he woke up on his own and they carried the bags into the house, depositing the groceries on the bar. 

“Shouta and Eri should be back soon,” Hizashi said as he started sorting groceries. “He’s picking her up from her grandma’s after patrol. Hitoshi probably won’t be home until later.”

Katsuki lingered near the edge of the kitchen, half-hovering, his eyes flicking between the fridge and the bags like he wanted to help but didn’t want to mess anything up.

“They know I’m here?” he asked suddenly. “Like… they’re not gonna see me and ask what I’m doing in their house?”

Hizashi looked up from unpacking, his voice calm. “Yes, they know. We told them. Eri’s actually really excited to meet you — she remembered you’re one of Midoriya's classmates.”

Katsuki stiffened at that, like the mention of Midoriya added another layer of pressure.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Hizashi said gently. “You can just go relax on the couch. I’ll put the rest of this away.”

Before Katsuki could argue, the front door opened. Footsteps. Voices.

Shouta and Eri came through the door, and he saw out of the corner of his eye Katsuki go rigid.

__________

He wished he’d had a little more warning before he had to deal with this. His track record with kids was… well it wasn’t bad. But he was loud, and aggressive. He tended to scare little kids away. Mic had said that they knew he was here, but still, it can’t be nice having a random stranger show up in your house overnight. He watched as Aizawa came in, looking tired. A cut over his eyebrow. Eri was standing there, bright red eyes and bright pink backpack still on. She stood there for a moment before, 

“Kacchan!” she squealed, darting over to him. He stiffened, not knowing what to expect — but she just threw her arms around his legs and looked up at him, grinning.

“Your hair looks like a dandelion.” 

He blinked. Of all the things she could’ve said. 

“...Thanks, I guess.” he said after a moment. She beamed at him. Aizawa walked past them over to Present Mic and leaned slightly on his shoulder as he watched him sort through the groceries, eyes half-lidded. Mic glanced over before grasping his face. 

“Shouta, why are you bleeding?” he chastised. Katsuki tensed up. Was he mad that he’d managed to get hurt? That he’d messed up on patrol?

“Someone got a lucky hit.” he said, eyes closing all the way. 

“And why didn’t you let the paramedics treat it?” he continued, exasperated. 

“Why would I do that when I have you?” He relaxed again, he supposed when your a Pro you're allowed to mess up sometimes. When he's a Pro will it be the same for him?

“I swear Shouta you’re going to be the death of me. What kinda example are you setting?” he sighed. “Come on lets patch you up.” he said, starting to walk towards their bedroom behind the kitchen. “Katsuki, watch Eri please. We’ll be right back.” 

It was still odd, hearing that name come from his teacher's lips. He knows he asked him too— when he was half asleep— but still, it was hard to get used to. Though he didn’t want them to call him Bakugou either. It was his name, sure, but it was also their name. The family that wasn’t his anymore. Not after—

He turned his attention to the little kid at his feet, who had unlatched and was dragging him towards the couch. Did they seriously just leave him in charge of the kid? Weren’t they worried he was going to hurt her or something? He sat down on the couch slowly, and watched as she pulled out some colored pencils and paper from a drawer in the coffee table. 

She plopped onto the rug in front of the coffee table and spread out her colored pencils like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he wasn’t some stranger who’d shown up in her house. Like she wasn’t supposed to be wary of people like him.

She glanced back at him, beaming. “You can color too if you want!”

He blinked. “I—nah. I’m good.”

But she was already pushing a blank sheet toward him anyway.

He stared at it like it might bite. After a beat, he sank onto the floor with her, sitting stiff and awkward, legs crossed. She handed him a red pencil, clearly expecting him to do something with it.

She was scribbling something with intense focus, her tongue poking out the side of her mouth. He watched her for a second.

It didn’t make any sense for her to be so.. accepting, so comfortable around him.

He found himself asking before he could stop:

“You’re not scared of me?”

She looked up, blinking slowly, like it was the weirdest question she’d ever heard. “Scared? No.”

“You should be,” he muttered before he could catch himself. His voice came out rough, quieter than usual. 

She tilted her head, considering. “Well, you are loud,” she agreed solemnly. “But you’re also warm.” She smiled, before looking back down at her paper. “I used to be scared of people who yelled,” she said softly. “But you're not like them. You're loud, but you don’t feel scary. Not the kind of scary that means something bad is going to happen.”

She paused before she glanced up at him again with that wide-eyed, clear honesty only little kids have.

“I’ve been around people who were really evil. And you don’t feel like that. Not even a little.”

His breath caught in his throat.

“You feel safe. Like when I’m with Papa Zashi. Or Deku.”

He didn't know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. When he glanced back up she was focused on her drawing again, scribbling away. 

He looked back down at his page. At the pencil in his hand. He hadn’t drawn since his first year of middle school, when his mom had burned his sketchbook in front of him because it was distracting him from studying and training. It used to be his only escape, his only way of expressing himself. 

She took anything and everything she thought he was attached to. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe she just wanted him to focus. He still had some old sketchbooks he’d managed to hide away, tucked under a baseboard in his room, but he’d buried that part of himself a long time ago. It was easier that way, always had been. He focused on the paper again, trying to manually overpower his brain. It’s just a stupid drawing, he told himself, but still, he couldn't make himself start. Eri looked up at him again, probably wondering why his page was still blank.

“What are you drawing?” he asked, trying to distract her. 

She beamed at him, “My family.” He could see the little stick figures starting to form on the page. He couldn't draw his family, not anymore, and he didn't want to. “What about you?” Guess the distraction didn’t work. 

“I can’t think of anything.” 

“Mm…just draw something that makes you happy!” 

Easier said than done.

He glanced around the room. Mic and Aizawa were still in their bedroom, so he could probably get away with it. If they came back out he'd hear them in time to hide it. He doubted they would have a different opinion than the hag, especially since they were teachers. His hand shook lightly as his pencil finally touched the page, heartbeat in his ears. This was risky, but he’d missed drawing. Missed how relaxed it made him. 

He started with the TV in the foreground. Sketching out the scene. Five figures sitting on the ground in front of the television on a rug. Controllers in hand. A racetrack scene on the TV. He lost himself a bit, drawing the details, picking the colors— red, pink, yellow, black— making sure the shadows looked just right. The closer it got to the image in his head the more focused he became, wanting to get it just right.  

Then a shadow crossed over the paper and he snapped out of his trance.

He looked up.

Aizawa was standing there, hair damp, brow patched with a bandage. Looking down.

At his drawing.

Katsuki’s stomach dropped like a stone.

His breath caught. His vision tunneled.

Shit.

His body moved before he could think—snatching the paper away, shoving it under his leg, hand trembling.

 “I wasn’t doing anything!”

The words tore out of him in a rush. “I wasn’t—It’s not what it looks like—”

His chest clenched as cold panic swept over him. How did he always manage to fuck everything up?!
Not again. Don’t yell. Don’t yell. Don’t take it. Please don’t—

“Kacchan?” Eri’s voice broke through, soft and puzzled. “What’s wrong?”

He couldn’t answer. Couldn’t breathe.

His hands shook. His vision blurred at the edges. He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs.

“I—” he gasped, gripping his jeans. His nails dug in.

 Why couldn’t he breathe? Why couldn’t he—

“Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Aizawa’s voice, soft and steady, grounding. “You’re safe. You’re here. Breathe with me.”

He dropped to one knee in front of him, but didn’t reach out. Just stayed close enough to anchor. “Breathe in. One, two, three—hold—and out. Good. Again.”

Katsuki squeezed his eyes shut, trying to follow the rhythm. It wasn’t working. Not until something small and warm wrapped around his hand.

Eri.

Her little fingers gripped his tightly. “You don’t have to be scared. Nobody’s mad,” she said, gentle but sure. A note of understanding in her voice.

Eventually, the dizziness passed. His chest still ached from how tightly it had seized up, but the worst of it was over.

He opened his eyes slowly.

He thought that Aizawa would look mad. Or disappointed. But after studying his face for a moment he looked...worried? That didn't seem right.

“You’re okay, Katsuki,” he said again. “What happened?” 

“You’re not gonna take it?” Katsuki whispered hoarsely. “Or burn it?”

The silence after that was thick and heavy.

“No,” Aizawa said quietly, but with steel in his voice. “I’m never going to do that. No one in this house will. It’s okay to have hobbies. It’s okay to enjoy things.”

Katsuki swallowed hard. He felt Eri shift beside him and glanced over.

“You were drawing something happy,” she said. “You can finish it, if you want,” she said simply, settling beside him again like nothing had happened. “I thought it was really pretty.”

Chapter Text

Aizawa still hadn’t moved, was still watching him, crouched in front of him. Could he see how weak he was? Did he want him to leave now? Know that he wasn’t hero material? He was supposed to go up against villains and he freaked out over a simple children’s drawing. Just how pathetic could he get?

Aizawa straightened out of his crouch.“Why don’t you help me make dinner tonight? Hizashi said that you liked to cook.”  

Okay. Be useful. He could do that.

He helped chop up all the vegetables, trying his hardest to make sure they were all even. His hands still trembled slightly, but he managed to cut all the vegetables evenly, handing them to Aizawa. He stirred the pots when they were left sitting for too long, and set about turning on the rice cooker. Overall, it helped him relax and by the end his hands no longer shook. Aizawa hadn’t brought up sending him back, he’d managed to salvage the situation. They all sat at the table making idle small talk. No one brought up the drawing. Were they really okay with it? Didn’t they think it was a distraction? He’d already missed so much school, but spending time on something not productive on top of that? And they didn’t care? It seemed unrealistic.

“By the way Hitoshi called and said he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.” Mic said. Was he avoiding coming home? Did he not approve of him being there?

“Why?” Aizawa said mid bite. He was halfway through his food.

“He said his friend just bought a videogame that just came out. They want to play it tonight.” 

Aizawa just nodded, then asked Eri what she did at her grandma’s. They even let their kid play videogames?  

After dinner they watched another movie. This one was slightly more his style, it was an action movie about fighting aliens. This was another thing that his family never did. They never watched TV together. At his house after dinner he’d have to clean the kitchen and do the dishes, and then he could usually escape to his room to work on school work or go for a run. They didn’t do ‘bonding’. After the movie, he noticed Eri had fallen asleep on the couch. Mic scooped her up, and he suddenly had a flashback of when he’d fallen asleep last night that made him blush in embarrassment.  

“I’m gonna go put her in bed.” Mic said to Aizawa who nodded and got up to fix the pillows. 

“It’s about time for us to go to sleep as well. You can stay out here or go to your room if you aren’t tired yet.” Aizawa said to Katsuki, straightening up again. 

“I’ll go to the room.” Katsuki replied. He got up from his spot on the floor in front of the couch and set the pillow he was using as a cushion in the right spot. “Am I supposed to do the dishes?” he said, looking at the unwashed dishes sitting in the sink. 

“No, don’t worry about it. I’ll do them later.”

He glanced at the dishes again. His fingers twitched. Was this a test? Or worse—did Aizawa think he couldn’t be trusted with them? His mind flashed back to the last time he did the dishes and winced— maybe he couldn’t be.

He nodded stiffly and turned toward the hallway, trying not to overthink the silence that followed. He opened the door and looked at the grocery bag sitting on his bed. He opened it slowly and peered inside. He didn’t really need anything, but insisting might have come off rude so he’d gone along with it. He opened the shampoo, smelling it. He liked it, it was warm, spicy, and woodsy. He hadn’t been allowed any products that were scented at his house. His mom insisted it gave her migraines. So it was nice to actually be able to pick something out that he liked. 

He set the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash on the dresser, along with the deodorant. Was he allowed to take a shower whenever he wanted? Should he wait until they were in bed just in case? So far they had been nice to him, but there was no telling when he’d screw up and they’d send him back there. 

The blood, the screaming, the clink of glass underneath him, “Katsuki, run!” 

He blinked, forcing the scene from his mind as he continued unpacking the bag. The tooth brush, tooth paste, hair brush, when at the bottom of the bag there was something wrapped in another bag. He took it out and almost laughed. Inside were a pair of pajamas. They had mini grenades and explosions littering the black clothing. They were ridiculous. Childish. Soft.

At the bottom of the bag was a sticky note.

“These reminded me of you, I just couldn’t pass them up! :D- Hizashi” 

His fingers curled around the note before he could stop them. Stupid. He should’ve thrown it out. But instead, he folded it once, carefully, and tucked it into the nightstand. 

He grabbed the shower essentials and headed to the bathroom. He didn’t look at his eye again, even if his pride screamed at him to just get over himself. He didn’t want to see the scar. The evidence of his weakness scrawled across his face for everyone to see. So he avoided the mirror, focused on waiting for the water to heat up. 

After he took his shower he changed into the new pajamas, and headed back to his room, keeping the towel with him. He’d put it under the bed just in case he wasn’t allowed to shower and they saw the towel in the laundry. As he moved to grab some socks his eyes landed on his drawing that he’d discarded on his dresser. It was so close to perfection, so close to matching the image he had in his brain. 

They had said it was okay, so he could finish it if he wanted to, right? He wrestled with the idea for a moment, before finally deciding. He tiptoed into the living room and grabbed the colored pencils from the drawer Eri had gotten them from, and walked back to the room. He sat on the floor, making sure the door was locked, and started drawing again. He didn’t know how much time passed before he was satisfied, but as he set the pencil down he felt a small smile ghost his lips. He really had missed this. He’d forgotten just how much he loved drawing. 

He got up from the floor, his knees stiff, and hid the drawing under his socks, before returning the pencils to their original spot and finally moving to get into bed. He fell asleep faster than he usually did. One second he was laying there, thinking of what else he could maybe draw, and the next sun was filtering in through the window. 

He woke up well rested for once, and stood up to walk over to the door, pausing to see if he heard anything. The sound of the TV reached him first. Something high-pitched. Happy. It didn’t match the tightness in his chest. He didn’t know why he was so nervous, he just felt like he was walking on eggshells. One false move from ruining everything. Maybe he was more worried because he actually liked it here. He really didn’t want to leave, but it was only a matter of time. Slowly he opened the door, and walked to the living room.

“Good morning Kachhan!” Eri said from her spot on the couch. She climbed down and ran over to him, pulling him back towards the couches. 

“Come watch cartoons with me! This is the bestest show ever!” He let himself be led to the couches, and plopped down. 

“Where’s Aizawa and Mic?” he asked, looking around.

“They’re still in bed.” She said distractedly, eyes glued to the TV screen. He leaned back into the cushions. 

The cartoon blared cheerful music as three sparkly superheroes twirled through the air, shouting their attack names in unison. One of them launched a glowing music note like a missile, which exploded into rainbow confetti.

He was sitting beside her on the couch with a throw pillow over his lap, and squinted at the screen like it had personally offended him.

“You really watch this glittery crap on purpose?” he grumbled.

Eri whipped her head around to face him, scandalized. “They’re the Melody Knights! They fight crime with harmony !”

He snorted. “They fight crime with bad choreography and auto-tune.”

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “You’re just jealous ‘cause you can’t sing.”

“ Please, I could blow those walking glitter bombs off the stage with my voice.”

“They have theme songs, ” she replied with absolute conviction, like it was checkmate.

“Oh no,” he mock gasped. “Not theme songs. How will I ever recover from that devastating tactical advantage?”

Eri stuck out her tongue at him. “Then you’re just mad they wear more sparkles than you.”

“Tch— they wish they had my fashion sense.” He said gesturing to himself, which probably would have been more convincing if he wasn’t currently wearing pajamas with little explosions and grenades all over them. Dammit Mic. 

That got a giggle out of her, one that made something loosen in his chest. He leaned back on the couch, watching her from the corner of his eye. She hummed along to the theme song—off-key and soft—and somehow it filled the whole room. Then he heard the bedroom door creak open. His body tensed before his brain caught up.

“Who wants to help with breakfast?” Aizawa said from the kitchen. His voice was rough from sleep, but not sharp.

Eri cheered and ran for the kitchen. Katsuki followed, hovering near the bar, unsure if he was supposed to sit or stand. Mic hadn’t come out yet. Was he allowed to get something from the fridge? Was that rude? Aizawa handed Eri an empty bowl and pushed an egg carton over to her. 

“Why don’t you help me crack the eggs for the French toast?” Aizawa said to Eri, before he looked up at Katsuki. “You can supervise.” he said. Finally given a task, he moved to stand behind Eri and make sure she didn’t mess it up by getting bits of shell in the bowl. Not that he’d tell Aizawa if she did. He didn’t want to get her in trouble.

She reached for one and cracked it against the side of the bowl. Too hard. He flinched, watching intently for any shell.

Nothing fell in. Huh.

The second egg went smoother. Third one, too. He still didn’t breathe.

“I did it!” she said proudly, eyes bright. She turned, lifting her hands up like she expected something. “Down, please!”

He hesitated. Glanced at Aizawa—was he allowed to do that? The guy didn’t even look up.

Carefully he picked her up under the arms and set her gently on the floor. She toddled off, apparently satisfied, back to the TV.

“She loses interest after cracking the eggs,” Aizawa said, already back at the stove. “It’s her favorite part.”

He slid a bowl across the counter. The contents looked like milk and cinnamon.

“Why don’t you finish the French toast while I do the eggs?” Aizawa added. “You know how to make it?”

 Tch- what was he an amateur? 

“Of course I do.” he said, moving to incorporate the mixture, probably vanilla, milk, cinnamon, and sugar; into the eggs. Then he dipped the bread one by one into the batter and fried them in a pan with butter. He piled them all onto a plate, dusting them with powdered sugar, and he and Aizawa moved to the table. He sat down, making sure he sat up straight, and said thanks when Aizawa put a plate of eggs in front of him. He watched Aizawa out of the corner of his eye as the man sipped his coffee in silence, hair half-tied, still in sleep clothes. Mic wandered in a moment later, yawning like he hadn’t slept in years and humming some song he wasn't familiar with. He sat next to Aizawa, and across from Katsuki. Eri was already seated next to Katsuki, feet kicking the air as she focused on her French toast—cut into neat little squares.

"What's on the menu, chef Eri?" Mic said.

“Toast,” she said proudly. “And eggs. I cracked them myself.”

Mic gasped dramatically,  “Wow, we’ve got a pro chef in the house!”

Bakugou’s eyes flicked between them. No one was tense. Was he supposed to say something? Compliment the eggs? What if he got the tone wrong? What if it came off sarcastic?

He stared at his plate instead. The eggs were soft. Runny in the center. Like how his dad used to make them. Back before he stopped caring. 

“Morning Sunshine.” Mic said as he reached over to nudge a napkin closer to him. Not in a scolding way. Just… casually. Sunshine. What the hell kind of nickname was that? Was it sarcasm? No—Mic didn’t say it like that. Not exactly. But what if he thought it was funny? Was he supposed to laugh? Was it a joke about him being angry all the time? Before he could decide, Eri leaned over and carefully placed a single square of toast on the edge of his plate. The very center piece. 

“This part’s the best,” she said solemnly. “You can have it.”

Bakugou stared at the offering like it might crumble if he moved wrong. He risked a glance at the adults, but neither of them said anything.

“…Thanks,” he mumbled.

He ate it first. It was soaked in cinnamon and doughy. It was delicious. 

She smiled, and Bakugou felt something unspool in his chest he hadn’t realized was tight.

Then Aizawa set his cup down.

“I have a folder for you. It has everything you’ve missed. You’ll be responsible for catching up.”

Bakugou stiffened. The toast went heavy in his stomach.

So he was behind. He had fallen behind. Had they expected him to work during the hospital stay?

He should’ve been working the second he woke up. Not sitting here. Not eating.

Stupid, pathetic, ungrateful. How could you be so selfish? So unmotivated. If you can’t even keep up with your school work, how do you expect to become the top hero?

“I can walk you through it if you need,” Aizawa added casually, eyes flicking toward him. “After I take Eri to her check-up.”

Bakugou shook his head too fast. “No. I’ve got it.”

Mic raised a brow. “It’s alright if you want help with it.”

“I don’t.” 

Too defensive. Stupid. Why’d he say it like that?

A beat passed. Aizawa didn’t look angry. Mic didn’t sigh like he’d ruined the mood. He watched Eri from the corner of his eye. She didn’t flinch at his voice. Just kept dipping toast into syrup like she hadn’t even noticed.

Maybe that answer had been okay? Maybe he wasn’t going to get yelled at?

He reached for his glass of water, careful not to grip too hard. Careful not to knock it over. There were rules here. Unspoken ones. But he’d figure them out.

He always did.

__________

“I have to take Eri to the doctor for a check-up, and Hizashi has to go in for a bit for his radio show. So, you’re going to be home alone for a while. Unless you want to tag along with one of us.” Aizawa said. 

“I can take care of myself. It’s fine.“ Aizawa gave him a long look, unreadable as ever, but finally nodded. He reached into his bag and pulled out a thick folder, setting it on the table with a soft thump .

“Here. You can get started on this today. We’ll be back in a couple hours.” He also handed him a sticky note. “Put these numbers in your phone. It is Hizashi and I’s personal numbers. Call us if anything happens alright?” 

“Okay, I got it.” Katsuki said, already flipping through the worksheets. Aizawa and Hizashi shared an unreadable look before saying goodbye and closing the door behind them.

Once the door shut, silence settled over the house like a blanket, but instead of being comforting it was stifling. 

Katsuki sat at the table for a while, flipping through the stack of worksheets. Math, language, hero theory. All of it was familiar, but something about doing it here, at their kitchen table, with a pencil Aizawa probably bought, made it feel unreal. Like he was playing house. Like it could all be ripped away if he didn’t tread carefully. He’d gotten too comfortable, this wasn’t that different from his house. There were still expectations. Still things that were expected of him. If anything it was harder because he didn’t know what they were. He could be messing up and not ever be aware of it. Was this his test? To prove he was worth their time? 

He started with math. His handwriting was tight and precise. Boxy. He double-checked every answer before moving on. Then came the kanji practice. He sharpened his pencil three times in the middle of it—each time it didn’t really need sharpening.

Halfway through a reading comprehension sheet, he paused.

This is fine, he told himself. You’re doing what they told you. You’re not screwing up. No one's mad.

His leg bounced under the table. He looked around. The dishes were washed. The house was still. They said they’d be back in a couple hours. There was nothing wrong.

Then why did his throat feel tight?

He looked down at the sheet again. The question was simple, but the words swam a little. His fingers curled against the pencil, knuckles whitening.

You’re a burden. They don’t believe in you. Why would they? You haven’t done anything for them to be impressed with. You're just a sad pathetic child that they feel bad for.

He stood up too fast, chair scraping against the tile. The weight behind his ribs needed somewhere to go. He could still fix this. All he had to do was give them something to be proud of. Training. That’s what he’ll do. He’ll push him limits, and succeed, and come back and they’ll be proud because he accomplished something. 

He shoved the worksheets into a neat stack, pushed them aside. His chest burned like it used to in middle school when someone laughed just a second too long after he’d lost. When his mom said ‘You didn’t try hard enough’. When he’d see All Might smile at Deku.

He moved fast, not grabbing anything, and rushed out the door onto the sidewalk. 

He wouldn’t mess this up too.

__________

It took longer than he would have liked it to, but the training spot was farther from Aizawa’s than it was from his house. It was familiar, a place behind an old abandoned warehouse that he had always gone to since he was a little kid and being at the house became too much.

He started with the basics. Warm-ups. Mobility. Stretches. He counted out push-ups and sit-ups. His limbs burned a little from underuse but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. His body moved faster. He went straight into agility drills he’d memorized by heart—footwork patterns, combat forms, blast jumps. His palms flared, heat pulsing through him, sweat beading on his forehead. The dirt beneath his feet grew uneven, pitted with tiny scorch marks. His body was sharp. Exact. Every move perfect. Controlled.

But his breathing wasn’t.

It came faster now. Shallow. Erratic.

Knew it, he thought. You’re soft now. You’re getting comfortable.

He ramped it up. No breaks. No water. Just motion—blast, land, pivot, charge, blast again.

His breathing was ragged, chest heaving with each explosive burst of power. Every strike left a sharp sting radiating from his blistered palms—raw skin scraping against rough surfaces, the ache sharp but oddly familiar.

His arms trembled violently, muscles burning like they were on fire, but he refused to stop. A dull throb pulsed deep in his shoulders, a warning of the strain—but he pushed through it. Gritting his teeth, he ignited his quirk with a fierce roar, small blasts erupting from his hands as he propelled himself forward with raw, unfiltered force.

He missed at first—his timing off, the angle wrong—but he kept adjusting, sweat dripping into his eyes, blurring his vision. A sharp pain flared in his right shoulder as he overextended it in one blast, but he swallowed the sharp intake of breath and forced his arm to move again.

Finally, after what felt like endless attempts, the move clicked.

A precise, controlled blast shot out just as he twisted his body midair, sending him soaring over the tree in a perfect arc. He landed hard but balanced, muscles screaming in protest, hands blistered and trembling.

For a moment, the world stood still.

Then, a fierce grin cracked across his face.

He had done it.

Despite the pain, the exhaustion, and the sting of failure moments before, he felt that rare, sharp spike of pride. Not just in the move itself, but in knowing he’d broken through his own limits.

He flexed his blistered hands, ignoring the sting, and allowed himself a breath—deep and slow.

This was progress. This was proof.

It had gotten dark by the time he’d finally managed it, but during the walk home he felt surprisingly light. He was proud of what he accomplished. He’d been able to do something he hadn’t even been able to do at school. They’d be able to see now. He was trying. He was worth something. He wasn’t useless, pathetic. Maybe they would see all the hard work he put into it. Maybe they would be proud too. He let that thought carry him through the door.

But the second he stepped inside, he knew. He was wrong. 

The silence was heavy. Like pressure against his ears.

Aizawa’s voice cracked like a whip through the living room.

“Where the hell have you been ?”

Bakugou stopped short.

“I—training,” he said. “ I left after you guys—”

“You didn’t answer your goddamn phone,” Aizawa barked, striding forward, hair still tied back, eyes bloodshot. “You were gone . No message. No location shared. What part of ‘call if anything happens’ sounded optional to you?”

Bakugou blinked, still holding his sore arm against his ribs. “Nothing happened. I just—”

“You could’ve collapsed. You are supposed to be healing. You could’ve burned out your hands— look at them , Katsuki. They’re blistered. You didn’t even bandage them!”

Aizawa’s voice was rising. Sharp. Cold. Katsuki’s heart lurched into his throat. His lungs squeezed up tight, like someone was sitting on his chest.

He couldn’t breathe.

The air felt thin. Wrong. He tried to suck in a breath and got half of one before it caught, too fast—too loud.

Mic’s footsteps were coming down the hallway fast, but Bakugou wasn’t tracking them.

He was trying to hold onto what he’d done right.

“But I—” he started, voice hoarse, too quiet.

The hallway spun. The walls pressed in too close. His chest stuttered. He was breathing too fast—way too fast—his fingers were going numb. Something shrill was screaming in his ears—no, wait, that was just his pulse.

He couldn’t see right.

His hands shook violently at his sides. He wrapped his arms around himself. Why couldn’t he stop?

“You could’ve been kidnapped . You could’ve—do you get that? Do you get how close I was to calling the police ?”

“I didn’t think—” Katsuki whispered.

“No. You didn’t,” Aizawa snapped.

The room tilted. He couldn’t tell where his body started or ended.

He was spiraling and he knew it and he couldn’t stop it.

“Katsuki.” That was Mic's voice. Close. Calm.

Katsuki barely registered it. His knees threatened to give out. He dug his fingers into his shirt. It felt like the ground was dropping away from under him.

“Hey, hey—it’s alright. I’m here,” Mic said, crouching down. “Breathe, kiddo. Come back to me. You’re safe, okay? You’re safe.”

Everything blurred. Sound dulled. Colors bled out around the edges. The world felt... gray. Not sad. Just faded. Unhooked.

His eyes went glassy. His body stilled. He wasn’t shaking anymore. He wasn’t really… there.

“How could you-” Aizawa started again, but Mic whirled around to face him.

“Shouta, back off.” Aizawa stilled, words catching in his throat. “Look at him, actually look.”

Aizawa’s gaze finally, really landed on Katsuki. The way his arms hung clung stiffly to his shirt. The micro-shakes in his fingers. The way his lips were parted but unmoving, eyes glassed over. Just a blank shell in the shape of a boy.

Mic moved back to crouch in front of Katsuki again, hand hovering near his shoulder. “He’s dissociating,” he said tightly.

Behind them, Aizawa froze. The anger drained from Aizawa’s face in a blink. Horror slid in behind it. “Shit, Katsuki… I didn’t-” 

Mic shifted fully in front of Katsuki, making sure his own presence was gentle but steady. “It’s okay, Katsuki. You don’t have to answer right now. I’m going to stay here. You’re not in trouble. We’re not mad anymore. You’re safe. You’re not alone.”

No response.

But Mic kept talking anyway, voice steady. Aizawa stood in the doorway, frozen with guilt, watching the boy he was supposed to protect disappear behind his own fear.

Chapter Text

Mic had calmly talked to him until he’d come back to his own body, before telling him that he could go to his room if he wanted to. He did, not wanting to be stared at anymore, and sat down on his bed. He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up so bad. Why the hell would they care if he nailed the move? It wasn’t what they asked. They told him to stay at the house and do his worksheets and he’d stupidly gone against what they had told him to do. It didn’t matter that he’d worked hard. He’d failed the test and now, now they were going to send him back, back to them.

He pulled his knees up, pushing his eyes against them as he tried not to let his emotions overwhelm him. He knew this was going to happen, he had just hoped it would have lasted a little longer, the peace, the lack of pain. Surprisingly, they still hadn’t hit him, but that could very well change in a matter of seconds. He crawled under the covers after locking the door and tried to fall asleep to escape the thoughts in his head. He wasn’t very successful.

“I’m heading to the school,” Aizawa’s voice came through the door, even and deliberate. “Breakfast is on the counter if you’re hungry. Hizashi will be here if you need anything.”

Katsuki’s fingers tightened on the blanket. He stared at the wall.

“I’d like to talk after I get back. If that’s okay with you.”

The words hovered there, waiting. He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Any answer was an opening, and he wasn’t ready for what might come through it.

The silence stretched. Aizawa didn’t fill it, just let it hang heavy. Katsuki could picture him on the other side, arms folded, frown faint but there.

A sigh. Steps retreating.

The front door clicked shut.

He breathed out the breath he had been holding. He’d just begun to think that maybe it would be different here, but he was wrong. He got out of bed, and walked over to his dresser where the folder with his school work was. Maybe if he finished it all, they’d reconsider. It was stupid, but it was something. Better than doing nothing and waiting for the verdict.

He sat on the floor, pages spread out in front of him.

He didn’t need to eat, he just needed to focus, to get this done. He sat on the floor and did page after page. His shoulder hurt from over extending it and being hunched over on the floor for so long, and it hurt to hold the pencil where his hands had blistered but it didn’t really matter. Around 4 in the afternoon Mic knocked on the door. 

“Katsuki, you need to come out and eat something.” It was gentle, like a suggestion, but suggestions were just rules in disguise. He didn’t want to risk upsetting them further, so he came out as requested, the folder tucked under his arm. He didn’t meet Mic’s eyes, and walked right over to the table, where there was already a sandwich waiting. 

“I wasn’t sure what you liked so I hope it’s alright, you can tell me if you want something else instead,” he said.  

“It’s fine.” Katsuki replied. He hated lettuce on sandwiches but he’d eat it anyway, the hag always said picking at your food was bad manners. They ate in silence until the door opened. He didn’t look, there was no point. The steps were heavy, familiar, it was Aizawa. He pushed the last bite of his sandwich forward and slid the folder in front of him instead. He could feel the man standing there. Waiting.

“Katsuki. About yesterday—”

Katsuki’s eyes stayed on the paper in front of him. “Homework’s almost done,” he said, voice flat but not sharp. He flipped to the next page. 

“That’s not what I—”

“I’ll finish it soon.” He didn’t look up. Looking up would be another move in a game he didn’t want to play. He stood up, scooping the folder into his arms. He shoved the rest of the sandwich into his mouth and walked to the sink to rinse the plate and put it into the dishwasher before walking back to ‘his’ room. 

He spent the rest of the day buried in his homework, every line neat, every answer checked three times over. At one point he heard shuffling outside his door, the kind of hesitant pause that meant someone was deciding whether to knock. He held his breath, listening hard, but after a moment the footsteps moved on. He dropped his eyes back to the math problem in front of him, jaw tight.

What hurt most was that he still wanted to stay. Before he realised it, before he was even aware, he’d gotten attached. Attached to the look in their eyes when they looked at him. It was so different from the way his mom used to. Her eyes were always so full of disgust, hate, and rage. But they always looked at him with warmth, it felt safe in a way he was unfamiliar with. But he’d screwed up, now they knew he was broken. It was only a matter of time before they’d realize he wasn’t worth the effort. That his mother was right to do what she had and send him back to her. All he had to do was wait for the day they decided he wasn’t worth saving.

When he woke up there was a paper stuck to his face. He groaned groggily before peeling it off, straightening up and trying to stretch out the kink in his neck and back. It was dark outside, so probably not yet morning, and as he looked at his phone sure enough it was only three am. He stood up, trying to decide what to do. He had to pee, which meant leaving the room. Chances of running into someone this late at night were slim, but he still listened for a couple minutes at the door to make sure that he didn’t hear anything, before slowly pulling the door open. 

It was dark, all the lights were out, and it was quiet. He walked as silently as he could to the bathroom, and after he stood in the kitchen just looking around. There were crumbs on the counter, and dishes in the sink. The blanket on the couch was unfolded and crumpled and there was a water ring on the coffee table. His hands shook slightly from the anxiety he hadn't been able to dispel since yesterday, so he decided he might as well clean up to pass some time. Everyone seemed to be asleep, and he was confident he could clean without making any noise. 

He set off about the room. Wiping down surfaces, folding blankets, fluffing pillows. It was nice to lose himself in the task, to know he was finally doing something right. The dishes were the last thing to do so he turned the water on softly. All he had to do was not screw up again. He at least had a chance since he wasn’t already at his moms so he shouldn't waste it. The work should be done in a couple days if he focuses entirely on it, which should make them happy. He can also clean, like he’s doing now. All he has to do is prove he’s not broken and it will all be fine. 

Ya because that has always worked out for you. How do you prove you’re not broken when you are? You’re a failure, you’re pathetic. You’re a dramatic little bitch who couldn’t even handle being sick. That’s what got you here in the first place. You couldn’t handle it. You came out wrong. So wrong that you couldn’t even be fixed. So wrong that you aren’t lovable. So wrong that you never will be.

“Hey.” a hand clamped around his shoulder. In a moment everything that he’d been trying to shut out, to not let himself feel came rushing back. All the memories, all the pain.

‘Red eyes staring into his own. Claws sunk into his jaw. The glass sliced into his skin. Hot, painful, agonizing.

“Let me fix our mistake!”’

___________________________

When he saw someone standing in front of the sink, the water barely on, he thought he was hallucinating. Maybe a side effect of staring at his phone for one too many hours combined with sleep deprivation. But as he got closer he realized it was Bakugou. He didn’t really know what led to Bakugou coming to stay with them. All they’d told him was that he needed a place to stay for a while. He had nothing against Bakugou, they hadn’t really talked beyond the occasional jab here and there, but it was kinda odd seeing him in his kitchen this late at night. It was also kinda weird seeing Bakugou this calm. He was just standing there. Sure, his signature scowl was still in place but he was moving slowly, carefully washing a dish. He mentally prepared himself to interact with Bakugou. It was late and Bakugou was loud, but he was hungry and had come out for a snack so he wasn’t gonna let that stop him. He kept his voice quiet as he called out, “Hey, Bakugou..” but Bakugou didn’t give any reaction that he’d heard him. 

“Hey,” he said a little louder as he walked a little closer. There is no way Bakugou didn’t hear him that time. Was he ignoring him on purpose? He got closer again and breathed in deeply, this was sure to get him a “Don’t touch me, extra!” but alas, he reached up and put more power into his voice. “Hey.” 

Bakugou stilled, tensing underneath his hand. The scowl fell away from his face but what came over it in its place had Hitoshi dropping his hand and whispering his name again. Something was wrong. Bakugou wasn’t looking at anything, eyes straight in front of him, his hands started trembling, and he watched in horror as Bakugou’s eyes started watering and a tear made its way down his cheek. 

“Oh, oh shit. Um? I’m sorry? Bakugou?” He had no idea what the hell was happening. This was Bakugou. Confident, brash, louder than life Bakugou. Who never showed when he was afraid, always took things head first. Who yelled more than he talked normally, and always had a scowl on his face. This wasn’t like Bakugou. At all. He thought about going to get the Old man, surely he’d know what to do, but in the next second he watched as Bakugou lost his grip on the sudsy bowl, and it crashed to the floor. In a moment, Bakugou's expression cleared, “SHIT!” he said, dropping to the floor. “Fuck, shit, fuck” he whispered. Hitoshi crouched slightly, tilting his head, trying to give Bakugou space while bracing for whatever might come next. Bakugou was trying to pick up the pieces and was cutting himself in the process. 

Hitoshi wanted to speak, to snap him out, but every word felt like it might make it worse. Bakugou’s eyes didn’t follow him. His whole body was frozen and trembling at once, and Hitoshi realized he had no idea how deep this went, but he had to do something. “Bakugou?” Hitoshi whispered once more, hoping to finally get his attention. 

Bakugou’s eyes snapped up to his, “Fuck…fuck, don’t, don’t look at me. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. If they see me like this, they’ll hate me. They’ll send me back. Back there…”  

“Bakugou, what's wrong? Just tell me what’s happening.”

“I, God- what is wrong with me?! I just had to not fuck it up!” Hitoshi didn’t know what to say. “I can’t, I can’t-  I can’t even look at this stupid, fucking, scar!” he screamed as he reached up and ripped the gauze patch from his face. Hitoshi swallowed his gasp. The scar was red and angry, it started before his eyebrow and went until about his cheekbone.

“I can’t- I won’t go back there. I’d rather die, I’m weak, pathetic. I should be able to handle it. But I can’t” he said, voice cracking and desperate. He really looked at Hitoshi then, his eyes were pleading. The fire he’d always seen in Bakugou’s eyes was barely hanging on. His breathing was picking up, hands shaking so much he mostly just succeeded in cutting up his fingers before dropping the glass pieces again.

“You don’t have to go back. You’re safe here.” he tried to reassure. He didn’t know what was happening but he knew that his dads wouldn't let anything happen to Bakugou. 

“I will, I will once they know. Know how broken I am.” 

“You’re no-” 

“I AM! I am and I always have been. She’s always said it..” he said, hands finally dropping the glass pieces in frustration before coming up to grab at his hair, slightly rocking back and forth. “I don’t want to give up, I don’t. But I won’t go back there. I won’t..” He was whispering at this point, devolving.

“You are not broken Bakugou, Okay? You’re strong, and brave. I’ve seen you go up against villains with a smile on your face. You walked up to the front of the sports festival and said you were going to win. And you did. That’s not weakness, and you are not broken.” Hitoshi said. Bakugou looked up for a moment and that’s when Hitoshi saw his parents come into the room. Bakugou followed his line of sight and he watched as panic seemed to completely overtake Bakugou’s features. He whipped back towards the glass and hastily tried to sweep it into a pile with his hands. 

"I'll clean it up! I’ll, I’ll, I’ll-” he started as slowly he lost his words to panic. “I’m so- I’m sorry, I-I sorry…” Dad came over quickly and lowered himself in front of Bakugou, slowly reaching out, before he grasped onto Bakugou’s hands to stop him from cutting himself further. Bakugou immediately stopped breathing, seeming to brace for something. 

“Katsuki, It’s okay. We aren’t mad. You’re safe, It’s okay.” Bakugou didn’t respond, but after a moment he let himself be led up off the ground. 

“Okay, good, we’re just going to come over to the sink and wash off your hands. Okay, It’s okay. You’re safe.” He walked them slowly over to the sink, Bakugou still silent and still not looking at them. Pops went grab the broom and clean up the glass. And Hitoshi stood, not knowing how to help or what just happened. 

___________________________

The cold water brought him back to himself a bit. He wasn’t sure why Aizawa was rinsing his hands. He’d expected to get hit for breaking the dish, sure this was the last straw. The water ran red, he hadn’t even noticed that he’d been cutting his fingers with how focused he was on picking up the pieces. He’d done it, they knew now. That he was broken. They were going to send him back, but he wouldn’t go back. He’d never make it out if he went back there again. He was still breathing heavily but he could finally control the water that had been flowing from his eyes against his will enough to stop embarrassing himself. 

“Hitoshi, could you bring us the first aid kit please?” Aizawa said. “Katsuki, let's go sit at the table and fix you up okay?” He didn't see the point. This was nothing compared to what his mom was going to do when he got home, but he followed anyway. 

They sat at the table and Mindfuck brought over the first-aid kit. Aizawa very gently bandaged up his fingers and Katsuki avoided eye contact the whole time. He didn’t want to see the disappointment, didn’t want to hear what he knew they had to say.

“Katsuki..”, and here we go. He braced himself, waiting for those words to pass his lips. 

“I’m sorry.” Did he hear that right? Sorry for what? Sending him back? “We should have had more communication. We didn’t handle this right, and I am sorry for raising my voice at you yesterday. I was worried and that presented itself in a hurtful way and I apologize for that. It wasn’t your fault.” Katsuki stayed silent, and didn't know how he was supposed to respond to that. Mic came around to sit with them pulling up a chair besides Aizawa and Shinsou bringing with him four cups of tea. 

“From now on we are going to talk more, have more open communication. We were trying to give you space, but I think that was our misconception.” The only thing that Katsuki heard from the sentence was ‘in the future’

“I’m not going back?” he whispered.

“Back? Oh god. No, Katsuki. You will never have to go back there. We filed a report against your parents. There is going to be a trial. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, we were trying to give you some time.” Mic said from beside Aizawa. 

Katsuki froze, letting the words sink in. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. His chest heaved, and the memory of everything—her yelling, the fear, the blood. Still made his chest hurt. His parents were going to trial? Like they had done something wrong? He didn’t know how he felt about that, the proof that what they had done to him was wrong felt like a weight had been lifted off of him. He didn’t have to go back. Couldn’t go back if a trial was pending. They didn’t want to send him back. Aizawa wrapped some gauze around his finger and pulled it tight enough for it to apply pressure. He winced a little before setting his face seriously again. 

“You’re safe here, Katsuki. We aren’t going to hurt you. You don’t have to be afraid.”

"Tch-I'm not afraid." he murmured. He wanted to believe them. He wanted to believe it more than anything in the world. But they were just words, and words were not permanent. They could change at any moment. He stared at the bandages being wrapped around the small cuts he’d given himself, and the reality slowly seeped in: nobody was yelling. Nobody was angry. Maybe he could choose to believe them, just for a second.

He exhaled, a shaky little sound that he barely noticed escaping his throat. His shoulders, so tight they ached, slowly lowered. He didn’t look up yet, but he grabbed the tea that was placed in front of him, and sipped it slightly. He looked at Aizawa and Mic’s faces and didn’t see anger, or hatred. He saw concern. Maybe they wouldn’t throw him away. Maybe it would be okay if he was a little broken. 

“Hitoshi, why don’t you take your tea into your room. I think we need to talk to Katsuki alone for a bit. You did a good job.” Eyebags hesitated for a moment before getting up and grabbing his tea. He stopped again before exiting the room. 

“Hey, Bakugou?” 

“Hm?” 

“I’m glad you’re here.” he said before turning back around and entering the hallway.