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The music is restless. The boy follows as best as he can, arms flailing around as his hips clumsily follow the rhythmic beat. He’s breathing hard, green eyes darting back to the screen to make sure he doesn't miss a crucial move. In a given part, he is supposed to jump, so he does, and still in the air he is already struggling to remember what the next part is. Maybe the spin? Is it the crouch? Perhaps-
The loud noise of his butt hitting the floor is enough evidence that he failed once again. The music keeps playing in the background regardless, the dancers on the computer screen effortlessly making the moves he spent the last three hours failing to perform.
Midoriya sighs. His hand runs through wet green curls, damp with sweat, and he rises to his feet once again to pause the video and go for a new attempt. He has some idea of what is wrong, but the actual movement is much harder in reality than in his theoretical understanding. It's as if his body simply cannot do everything he requires at once, not to say that the little it pulls off doesn't come at all as natural.
He should not be so disappointed. Dancing is hard, isn't it? People took years of dedicated effort to reach that level of skill the dancers he was copying did. Still, watching their fluid movements filled his heart with inadequacy. Perhaps, like so many other aspects in his life, he just didn't have the talent for dancing. His old insecurities were not as pronounced as before - but he could still feel them there, on the edges of his mind.
You just can’t do it. It made him clench his fist and bite his lower lip. He would just have to try even harder.
Talent or not, he would try, for the good of the school. His classmates were counting on this - Eri-chan was counting on this - and Izuku wanted anything but to disappoint any of them. Ashido-san was doing her best teaching him, giving him appointments, criticizing his posture. He just had to remember what she told him - about flow and rhythm and feel. Feel the music, she said, let it flow with you. Well, she also said plenty of specialized stuff Midoriya did not quite understand. He now regretted not writing them down.
With the flow it would be, then. This time Izuku closes his eyes, focusing on the hard beat, the string sounds, the jazzy tunes and steady bass beneath it all. There is a fear pooling in his belly, self-conscious and cold - what if someone saw him? He must look ridiculous - and he blushes but tries to brush it off. He’s alone, after all. It’s quite late, most of his classmates are already back on the dorms or on the shower after a long, exhausting day of practice. He can feel his aching muscles and his hard breath, and the thought of I should stop for today crosses his mind for a split second before the drop of the chorus, and then he’s gone.
He can’t even understand the words - they’re part of the music, just another instrument. His heart is another, drumming against his ribcage in its own beat. He forgets some moves, and can’t even remember forgetting them, he is far into it for that. It feels like relaxing after all the work, a moment just for him, because he is the music, he is the smile plastered on his face and the thrusting of his hips and the move of his shoulders he saw Ashido do and thought it was so cool-
“The hell are you doing, dumbass?”
“K-Kacchan??” Midoriya almost trips on his own feet, a deep blush spreading on his cheeks as he desperately tries to keep balance and avoid Bakugou’s judging stare. “I-I was practicing the dance routine.” He attempts meekly to justify himself,
Katsuki looks at him sideways, glancing at the still playing screen with a look of discontent disbelief. “Doesn't look like the shit Ashido talked about.” The blonde’s frown deepens, his red eyes narrowing slightly. “Isn't this one of those kpop groups?”
“Ashido-san said I should… Loosen up more… So she told me to study more about dancing.”
Kacchan chuckles condescendently. “No wonder you fell on your own ass. This shit is too difficult for you, Deku.”
Too difficult for you. Izuku lowers his gaze to the floor, to the red sneakers on his feet, not bothering with the curls falling over his eyes. Of course, Kacchan was right. Why did he even bothered? There was still time to change for the other group, if he talked to Ashido...
And then there was a strong grip on his hand, pulling him to his feet with a grunt of effort. “You gotta take it slow, you idiot.” Bakugou’s voice was right on his ear as he pulled Deku closer, head raised, shoulders straight, a calloused hand pushing his chin upwards. “You’re not gonna learn this shit in a month. It’s stupid. You better learn what you can do, with this time.”
“I-I know…” Izuku stuttered. His heart was beating so fast he was afraid Katsuki could hear him; he couldn’t bear the embarrassment if he did. “I shouldn’t be trying to go for that, but-”
“Failing to reach your own fucking high standards doesn’t make you better.” It was the weirdest feeling to hear this from Bakugou, of all people; it seemed like he found it weird too. From what Deku could see in the corner of his eyes, his lips were pursed tight, his gaze unforgiving yet tense. “You’ll only fail like a damn loser and feel like shit afterwards. Which is what I bet you did.” There was a painful pang on his nose, and Midoriya instinctively moved his hands to it while his brain debated the possibility of madness or whether Katsuki Bakugou just flicked his nose. “Asshole.”
“Y-You’re right, Kacchan. I just thought… Everyone wouldn’t be disappointed if…”
“If they’re disappointed or not is their own fucking problem. You go to that fucking stage and do your best, or I’ll kill you, is that clear?” Even the threat sounded different now. Katsuki moved away from his field of vision, but Izuku could still feel his presence behind him, his body heat, the sound of his voice. “You go there, and you dance like you just did, not like one of those k-pop bastards, and leave them wanting more.”
He saw me dancing. How long has he been there? How much has he seen? Izuku held up an eep behind the crossed hands over his face, shyness and embarrassment and curiosity mixing inside his confused mind. Was he understanding wrong, or did Kacchan like his dancing? Asking would be useless, but he was so eager to know.
“More?” Midoriya moved his hips temptatively, a little flick just like he had seen in one of the easier videos. “Like this?”
“Not quite.” He could almost hear Bakugou’s smirk. The hand on his chin went to his hip, guiding a slower, deeper movement, pushing his hips lower. “Like this.”
“When did you learn how to dance, Kacchan?”
There was a huff of impatience behind him, yet the hand on him did not move. “Idiot. Dancing makes you flexible. It's good for combat.”
“What else do you know about it?” The question slipped away before Midoriya could stop it, and he paralyzed on the spot, mortified. He could feel Katsuki’s grip tighten, and he wondered - had he asked the wrong things? Had he been too forward? The sudden tension in the small room, made him feel uneasy.
The silence was cut by a sudden howl. Hound Dog was probably close, attracted by the now completely different music video playing. Deku feels Bakugou back off, and is not quite sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. Regardless, he rushes to stop the music before they are caught. It’s just now he sees how close it is to curfew - they would be in trouble with Aizawa-sensei...
“You still have a lot to improve, Deku.” Kacchan’s voice interrupts his worried thoughts once more. He is looking at Izuku from over his shoulder, hands inside his baggy jeans pockets, and there is a look in his eyes, or maybe his expression as a whole, that Midoriya cannot quite place.
“Will you help me?”
“If I feel like it.” He says like he doesn’t care, like he always did, but, this time, Izuku doesn’t actually believe him.
The door opens, and then closes with a low sound. Now alone again - or for the first time? How long was he there after all? - Midoriya looks down at the dark screen, fighting back the not exactly exclusive urges to hide his face from the world for eternity and to giggle like a schoolchild. Something happened today - he isn’t sure what, he isn’t sure how, he isn’t sure if Katsuki was just hit with a weird quirk, if he fell and hit his head while dancing, or if the fluttering on his heart is actually a crush. He is, however, sure of one thing.
“See you tomorrow, Kacchan.”