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The concrete roof was uneven, small jagged bits of hard rock protruding and digging into Midoriya’s skin. He felt it, but did nothing to resolve the prickling discomfort as it pushed into his thighs. Over the side of the roof his legs hung, feet thumping rhythmically every few seconds against the wall.
The air was cold. Wind stung Midoriya’s cheeks and carded through his mussed hair. The sky was clear and beautiful, completely unfitting for what Midoriya had planned. The school lay dormant beneath him, the daily bustle inside it lost to the night. He was originally going to do it closer to home; it seemed more fitting to end it where the majority of issue arose.
Midoriya was crying, big fat tears flooding down his face. In his head, he had pictured himself numb, face straight and undisturbed when faced with his own mortality. He supposed then that ending your life was apparently a far bigger deal than media made it seem. Still sitting, he leaned forwards a bit, throat tightening as he looked down at the darkened pavement below him. His blood would stain it for weeks. He smiled a bit, wobbly and insecure, thinking that everyone— Bakugou— would have proof that he finally did something right.
Midoriya glanced down at his watch; 3:08 . He had been there for nearly three hours, looking up at the stars and observing how the moon drifted across the sky at an agonizing pace. For a moment he wondered if he was stalling, if he really wanted this at all, but the thought of having to look into Bakugou’s burning eyes the next day was almost enough to make him end it right then. But he didn’t. He wanted to sit for a bit longer, feel wind’s bite and the cuts left by rough concrete.
The sudden attention his mind brought to the pain in his legs made Midoriya squirm, enjoying how he could feel the sharp rock cut into him in a way he knew he shouldn’t. Just for proof of life, he touched the scraped skin, releasing a breath of relief when blood graced his fingertips. He wasn't dead yet. The realization wasn’t as comforting as he wished it would be. He hiccuped when the waterworks started back up; the overarching loneliness had long since crept in and taken his hand.
It’s time , he thought, standing shakily. He was so close, the toe of his shoe already over the edge by about an inch. Midoriya closed his eyes and thought of how everyone would react when they found out. Bakugou would be relieved, he was sure of it. Earlier that very day he had shoved the idea down Midoriya’s throat. He held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut tight. From three, he began to count down in his head, knowing his voice would fail him through the tears. Midoriya sucked in a large inhale and lifted one foot up ever so slightly, preparing to step forward into the night. He began to lean forwards when-
“HEY! What the FUCK do you think you’re doing?!”
A booming voice broke the silence like glass, shards collapsing around him and freezing Midoriya in place. He knew that voice better than his own. Through a thick sheen of tears, Midoriya dared himself to look down and his mind immediately screeched to a halt like an old, broken piece of machinery.
Even through the blanket of darkness the night provided, ash blonde hair and piercing red eyes flared clearly. Midoriya was too high up to see how the eyes changed from burning fury to sudden, horrified recognition. He missed the mumbled ‘ holy shit, oh my god ’ and how nitroglycerin sweat coated his visitor’s hands.
“ DEKU PUT THAT FOOT DOWN AND DON’T YOU DARE MOVE ANOTHER MUSCLE!”
The words met Midoriya’s ears, forcing themselves through the stiff cogs still frozen inside his head. After a long and painful moment, they gained meaning and Midoriya couldn’t help but plant his lifted leg back onto the concrete. He felt a drop of blood fall down the back of his thigh and down his calf, the sensation enough to send him flying headfirst back into reality.
Suddenly, the cold breeze stung again. The scrapes on his legs ached and itched. He lifted a hand to feel if tears were still flowing freely from his eyes.
“I SAID DON’T MOVE!”
Midoriya stalled, body frozen in place but brain rearing back into high gear; flooding with questions and emotions he was too exhausted to identify.
Then, the night erupted.
Explosions, bright and loud— so loud— shook the sky and rattled the ground beneath Midoriya’s feet. The noise was familiar enough to trigger the instinct to retreat, sending Midoriya toppling over onto the safety of the roof. Someone shouting ‘shit’ in the background wasn’t enough to distract from the pain of impact. He wonders how it would have felt from another 100 feet up; if only he could have fallen forwards.
Suddenly, Bakugou himself came flying into sight, flames propelling him upwards into the night. He landed on the roof next to Midoriya with minimal effort. His eyes were slits, eyebrows furrowed in anger. For a long moment it was silent, both boys staring at each other and forcing themselves to breathe.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Bakugou seethed, steam slipping out of his mouth like a dragon as he spoke.
Midoriya didn’t respond as his eyes glossed over with tears and horrible tremors wracked his legs. Fear, helplessness, confusion, pain— it all swirled together in the pit of his stomach and sent pressing anxiety rising like bile in his throat. It burned. Bakugou moved and the shift slapped Izuki back into the present, thousands of concerns flying through his head in seconds. Bakugou got closer, closer, and then stopped, seeing how with every step the freckled boy scurried back further and further.
He was nearing the edge of the roof.
Midoriya knew he lacked the gull to dive off the roof with an audience, but it was clear Bakugou didn’t realize that with how he lurched forwards and grabbed his arm.
“Don’t even think about it.”
The grip on his arm was rough, painful even, but it still trembled. Midoriya finally built up the courage to look his bully of nearly fourteen years in the eye and saw fear. There was anger, obviously, but it was that little bit of underlying concern that made green eyes useless as they spilled for hopefully the final time that night. He was beyond silent crying.
Midoriya gasped for air and sobbed, pulling his knees up to his chest to bury his face in and it hurt . Blood on the back of his thighs meant nothing with the shooting pains traveling through his lungs and across his ribs. Slowly, he felt the grip on his arm loosen. The night was cold.
For some reason, however, the cold suddenly stopped gracing his skin. A weight rested across his shoulders and suddenly it didn’t matter how badly his ribs ached. Something pressed against his left side, a solid mass of heat. Midoriya on any other day would have fled, but right then in that moment, he didn’t dare. After a couple minutes, when the sobbing didn’t hurt and the tears began slipping out few and fewer at a time, he lifted his head and looked around tiredly. He blinked a few times, yawned, and relished in how it really felt like he had been hit by a bus.
Midoriya let himself calm down enough to get a grip on the situation.
Bakugou had an arm throw over his shoulder, lean body rested firmly against Midoriya’s side, radiating a mellow heat in the cold night. Anxiety spiked through his body, making his limbs go stiff and widening his eyes, leaving them dry as tears ceased.
Bakugou must have felt him tense, because the boy finally opened his mouth to speak.
“You idiot,” Midoriya tried to flinch away, but the arm kept him close. “I can’t believe you actually almost jumped.”
The green haired boy gulped deeply, no doubt loud enough for Bakugou to hear audibly.
“I wouldn’t have said it.” His voice was whisper quiet, strained like it was hard for him to admit. “If I had known you were dumb enough to take me seriously.”
Too scared to raise his voice above Bakugou, Midoriya matched the other boy's volume in a mumble. “Why were you out here?”
“Your mom,” Bakugou coughed uncomfortably. “She left a voicemail asking if I knew where you were. I didn't call back, but afterwards I just couldn’t shake the feeling that…”
Midoriya nodded even though he knew the other wasn’t looking at him. His legs hurt and he was tired, so tired, but he didn’t want to jump. Not after Bakugou had shown him a glimpse of the kindness he had been grasping for his entire life. Suddenly, the blonde stood up, leaving Midoriya cold again and missing the touch. When he was offered a hand, he almost didn't take it; those hands had hurt him plenty, but after a moment he sucked in a deep breath and took the silent offering. No harm came to him.
“We’re leaving,” Bakugou said at a normal volume once both boys were on their feet. Swiftly, he picked Midoriya up off the ground, and the boy just about short circuited.
It all seemed too nice. Maybe he had jumped, and this was just god's way of trying to make it up to him. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be scared when Bakugou jumped off the side of the roof in a show of fire, each explosion ringing in his ears numbly until they landed safely on the ground; where Midoriya could have already been waiting.
Gently, Bakugou set him down on the ground. It was odd, being treated like fragile china by the very bull that had previously seemed intent on rampaging through his life. It made him a bit uncomfortable, truthfully considering how used to the treatment he had become.
“I’m taking you back to your house.”
Midoriya froze, the reality of having to face his mom one that almost warranted him to try jumping again. One glance at Bakugou’s stone grip on his sleeve was enough to cross that out as a possibility. The blonde began to walk, and Midoriya had no choice but to follow.
Their walk was silent, lit only by passing streetlamps which were too few and far between for such a suburban area. Even 30 feet or so, the two would be shrouded in darkness and Bakugou's grip would tighten until they were back in the safety of light. The firm grasp on Midoriya’s arm would have been uncomfortable and very unwelcome had it been anyone else’s, but he took it as a physical reminder that he was alive. Bakugou saved him.
He supposed, in the more logical part of his mind, that Bakugou had been the one to provide the idea of suicide in the first place and therefore deserved nothing for his sudden change of heart. But for once, in the freezing cold Midoriya let himself enjoy what was happening right then; not concerning himself with why it was happening.
They arrived home too soon.
Midoriya expected Bakugou to burst open the door without hesitation, throw him inside, then stalk off into the night. Instead, the blonde moved his grip from Midoriya’s arm to his wrist and squeezed it gently.
“I’m sorry.”
Midoriya didn't have time to respond before the door swung open and Bakugou tugged him inside gently, wandering into the kitchen as if the house were his own. Inko sat alone at the dining table, eyes wet with worry. She looked up and relief flooded visibly across her face as she scurried out of her chair and over to where the two boys were standing. Bakugou didn’t let go.
“Izuku, where have you been? I called your cell but you didn’t pick up and I was so worried something had happened to you,’ Inko’s face was somewhere between anger and relief. “ What were you doing out so late?”
Katuki felt it when Midoriya’s breath hitched, and he felt when tremors began to shake Midoriya’s arm beneath his grip.
“It was my fault,” Bakugou filled in for him. “We were studying at my house, and fell asleep. I woke him up as soon as I heard your voicemail.”
Inko’s eyes narrowed a bit in suspicion. “Studying? Together? Bakugou, I know I called you but I also know you and Midoriya aren’t on the best of terms.” Skepticism was clear on her face. “I know how you’ve been treating him.”
Midoriya managed to speak up after a minute of tight tension between his mom and… friend?
“No, mom it’s true. I was, um, struggling with school and Kacchan offered a hand. He helped me. For what he’s done in the past… this makes up for a great deal of it.”
Inko nodded and her shoulders sagged, arms reaching out to pull Midoriya into a tight hug. Out of the corner of his eye, Midoriya saw Bakugou give him a look he couldn’t quite place but any concern was trumped over by the level of concentration required to keep tears from streaming down his face again.
When Midoriya finally headed upstairs for bed, wishing his mother a good night's rest beforehand, he didn’t expect the quiet sound of socked feet to follow him down the hall. Feeling a little prick of nervousness well up in his gut, he continued walking the short distance to his room, but was grabbed by the wrist before he could actually make it inside.
“The backs of your thighs are covered in blood dumbass,” Bakugou bit out in a scathing whisper. “I didn’t want to freak out your mom but you need to get cleaned up.
“Oh! Uh, sure Kacchan. ‘Ill just-” he pointed at the bathroom and took a couple steps, noticing Bakugou never let go of his wrist. They entered the bathroom together, and as soon as the first aid kit was out Midoriya was forced to sit down on the closed toilet’s edge by hands on either shoulder. Reality didn’t quite dawn on him until Bakugou was wetting a towel and kneeling on the ground.
Midoriya’s face erupted into a crimson mess when Bakugou , his bully since childhood, began addressing his wounds with a gentleness he had never seemed to possess. A few times Isuku started to squirm, but a sudden hand on his shin kept the boy statue still and silent until all the blood was gone.
Once the first aid kit was finally returned to its usual spot, Midoriya had finally begun to relax and let himself be maybe, possibly, if even a little bit, sort of glad he hadn’t lept off the school roof. Then, Bakugou picked him up and any mental rest went straight to hell.
“Ah! Kacchan you don’t have to!-”
“Shut up.” The reply had no bite to it, and the lack of fire behind the words made Midoriya snap his jaw shut. They left the bathroom. “Why’d you go and pick today to start listening to me.”
“What?”
“I’ve been ordering you around our entire fucking lives and you never listened worth shit,” Bakugou growled out through gritted teeth. “So what the hell Deku?”
How Midoriya tensed in Bakugou’s grip (more than he already had) and was something both boys were painfully aware of given how the blonde adjusted his grip almost nervously. They entered Midoriya’s bedroom and Bakugou kicked the door closed. He was tense, Midoriya was tense, the air between them was even worse.
The silence was really the worst part. Midoriya had spent the better part of 15 years thinking about or being around Bakugou and never had they shared a moment of such heavy silence. There was always yelling, crashing explosions, labored breathing, or at the very least, the distinctive sound of a terrified heart pounding. It was unsettling, the silence was, as it obscured the situation in such a way as to confuse Midoriya’s exhausted brain further than it could handle.
Luckily, he wasn’t forced to endure the emotionally straining thing that was Bakugou holding him much longer, as Midoriya found himself being dropped unceremoniously on top of his sheets. It took a second to sort through the cloudy haze in his head, but eventually, the freckled boy managed to make eye contact with his ex(?) bully.
When piercing red eyes met his it was almost enough to make Midoriya start crying again. They made the situation too real . Being kicked around, looked down upon, glared at, and hurt wasn’t easy; it was routine, expected. The unexpected wasn’t something Midoriya felt like he could take at that moment.
However, life apparently didn’t care whether or not he was ready for change, because the moment he forced his shoulder out of their hunch, Bakugou was across the room and digging through his closet, tossing things behind him as he did so.
“Kacchan?” Midoriya said questioningly, made proud by how his words didn’t die coming out of his throat. “What are you-”
“You’re not sleeping in that” Bakugou growled out without turning to meet the other boy’s eyes.
Midoriya fumbled a little bit, shoving down the warmth rising in his gut in favor of instead making a move to stand. He could pick out his own clothes. He could be trusted to dress his own wounds. He didn’t want to be a burden, not when Bakugou was finally showing him a glimpse of the softness he had searched for his whole life.
“If you get off that bed, you won’t have to worry about offing yourself anymore.”
The comment coming from anyone else would have been in poor taste, but hearing the words drip from Bakugou’s lips without an ounce of real weight behind them hardly seemed cause of offense.
The blonde must have read Midoriya’s silence wrong, because he opened his mouth again, looking about ready to backtrack, when a muffled laugh interrupted his soon-to-be apology.
He shouldn’t have been laughing. Nothing about the situation was funny. However, somewhere within the depths of Midoriya's hysterical adrenaline pumped brain he saw the humor in how Bakugou was treating him. Maybe it was the irony that the man who had told him to jump was acting like an angry mother hen; maybe Midoriya just needed a reason smile.
Either way, soft laughter smothered behind a shaking hand was apparently a case for concern because Bakugou abandoned the closet and the clothes he had strewn about. He approached Midoriya and sat on the bed facing him, before hesitantly reaching out and grabbing the other boy’s arm, tugging it away from his face. Bakugou took one look at Midoriya’s smile— genuine as it may be— and frowned.
“Yeah okay, you’ve clearly lost your mind,” he stated matter of factly. “No way in hell am I leaving here alone.”
Midoriya forced himself into a state of semi calm, ceasing the laugher best he could. “Kacchan, I’m fine now, really, You don’t have to stay… you’ve done enough.”
“ Enough ? What the fuck Izuku, I made you want to take a drive off the goddamn school and you're saying me giving you a fucking band aid is enough ?”
Midoriya didn’t hear much of anything after Bakugou said his name.
“Years of bullying you and harassment and just because I chose to not let you literally stop existing it’s all okay?” He was starting to sound angrier, but Midoriya couldn’t hear over the echo of ‘Izuku’ ringing in his ears.
“You make me furious. How could anyone forgive someone as easily as you can? That makes so goddamned sense you fucking idiot! GOD, can’t you just be pissed for once in your life-!”
Hearing his name in Bakugou’s mouth sent static buzzing through his skin and it was far too distracting. He could comprehend that the other boy was talking, enough so to get the jist of what was being said, but not enough so to absorb it. Apparently, half listening wasn’t enough because a hand waved itself in front of his face and Midoriya was met with an annoyed glare when he looked up.
“ Listen , idiot. Try to get this through your thick skull. You… you almost died . And it’s my fault. I can’t believe you can still,” Bakugou swallowed deeply. “Still bother to look at me without wanting to blow my face off.”
Odd wording, all things considered. He sounded angry but not in the way Midoriya was used to observing. It wasn’t directed at him, clearly, and it took a minute for him to figure out what was actually going on in the blonde’s head. Bakugou felt guilty. It was a concept so foreign and ridiculous, Midoriya almost found himself laughing again.
When the short silence that fell after the statement’s end persisted into the next minute, Midoriya realized Bakugou wasn’t planning on filling it.
He fiddled with his fingers nervously. “Uh, well its just- I don't think I’d ever really hated you until yesterday.” The look of surprise on Bakugou’s face was enough prompting to continue. “I mean! That’s not to say I hate you now- it’s just that, when you told me to, uh you know, it felt like the nail in the coffin. It just… really drive home that you didn’t just not like me. You wanted me gone .” His eyes stung and he wanted to cry, but his body would let him. “And I think that was what… did it in for me.”
“Then why forgive me?”
“Because now I know you don’t really want me gone.”
Silence arose again, somehow heavier than the previous. From the corner of his eye, Midoriya paid a bit of mind to the clock on his bedside table, which read 4:00 in illuminated red letters. It was the only light source in his room, the moon having long since hidden behind a sudden surge of clouds, but it was soft, and Midoriya needed some soft.
The red light painted Bakugou in a way that would have been sort of scary and possibly a bit demonic in any other context, but at that moment, as the two sat in Midoriya's bed, it was a bit too flattering for comfort.
Was there some kind of complex where you start falling love with the person that saved you? Midoriya wondered vaguely if it was some obscured kind of stockholm syndrome that made him want Bakugou to grab his face and kiss him. Had he hit his head when he fell back? Maybe it was in his best interest to quickly check the WebMD page on concussions and see if he was exhibiting any symptoms. When a shirt collided with his face, it dawned on Midoriya that he might have zoned out for a second there.
“ Change . You need to sleep.”
Midoriya waited a couple seconds for Bakugou to take his leave, but it seemed privacy was a privilege he had lost after trying to jump off the roof. Thinking about it, it was sort of fair.
Fair, however, didn’t make his face flush any less as he resigned to his fate and swapped shirts as fast as possible. Bakugou had made a good choice— one of his many All Might graphic tees. The shirt was oversized and the fabric was soft from too many cycles in the laundry machine. He changed, but what then?
Then, apparently it was time for sleep judging by how Bakugou walked back to the bed and dropped down right next to where Midoriya was still sitting upright. The freckled boy whipped his head around fast enough to cause possible issues ( WebMD ) and stared wide eyed and red faced at Bakugou. Who was laying down. In his bed.
“Uh, Kacchan what're you-”
“Shut up and lay down. This way, if you get out of bed and I’m asleep,” he narrowed his eyes and growled out through clenched teeth, “ I’ll know .”
If how his predatory tone sent shockwaves through Midoriya’s spine was any indicator, he had problems. Speaking of problems, there was a pretty big one and it was laying next to him.
“Oh you don't have to worry ab-”
Not being able to get a whole sentence out was becoming a common trend as a strong hand balled itself in the back of his shirt and tugged down hard. The impact of his head on the pillowed must’ve knocked something loose because a long and convoluted series of error alerts flashed behind wide eyes.
“Go to sleep , Deku,” Bakugou demanded, wrapping and arm around his waist, effectively trapping him in place. He must have been really convinced Midoriya would attempt an early morning escape. “And christ , stop thinking I can hear all those rusty ass gears in your head turning in overdrive.”
Stiff as a rock, Midoriya couldn’t find the command in his brain to make himself relax. Bakugou never let him lay a hand on him, and now they were pressed together like a couple and the arm wrapped around him was a little too comforting to be comfortable. But then again, being pressed up against the human equivalent of a radiator during a cold night was… pleasant. Or it would have been at least, had Midoriya been able to tone down the incessant burning behind his cheeks.
Suddenly, his alarm clock seemed to shine too bright. When he closed his eyes, Midoriya could still see the red glow that dusted Bakugou’s face. When the arm around his hip tightened, it dawned on his it wasn’t the light that was making him see Bakugou behind closed eyes, but that damn traitorous brain of his.
Sleep did not come easy, but it did eventually come. ‘When’ was a question Midoriya found himself unable to answer, but he woke up the next morning undeniably feeling like shit.
The curtains were drawn shut (he was sure they hadn’t been when he fell asleep) but it did little to block the sun from casting light into the room. With blurry eyes, he tried to read his clock, but the sudden rush of memories from the previous night left the time seeming obsolete. Midoriya looked around frantically, but the bed was empty aside from. His room was empty. His door was open.
Curious, Midoriya opted to ignore his splitting headache and the pain lingering along his thighs in favor of scouring the apartment for Bakugou. It took a minute, but eventually he found himself standing in the kitchen silently, watching Bakugou move around with ease from the stove to the fridge and back again. Two pans were set up over the gas stove, one sizzling loudly. It smelled great, but the surreality of the situation overrode any excitement for food.
‘ What the fuck is going on? ’
Bakugou turned around, his expression complacent as it could get.
“You’re awake,” he stated.
Midoriya, unsure what the appropriate response was to such an obvious statement, nodded dumbly.
“Good. It's almost noon, go sit down.”
Understanding the command loud and clear, and really not feeling up to a Bakugou fit of rage, Midoriya complied. He watched in mild discomfort as Bakugou plated something up. It was odd to see Bakugou in a state that wasn’t rage, especially something so… domestic .
A plate clattered down onto the table in front of him and Midoriya couldn’t do anything but stare for a moment. It looked good. Better than good, it was perfect. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t seen it coming— Bakugou wasn’t bad at anything it seemed. After spending an inappropriate amount of time drooling at the plate instead of eating it, Midoriya look up to make eye contact with the blonde.
“It- it looks amazing! I didn’t know you cook! It smells so good, thank you for-”
“Of course it does. Eat.”
Midoriya wasn’t even put off by the voice’s edge, nor did he mention the clear redness rising in the blonde’s face. He hardly noticed it as he began shoveling food in his mouth. He was right. It was good. Just as he was about to voice some more praise (admittedly being a little extra enthusiastic) Midoriya noticed how off Bakugou looked and froze.
Normally, the boy would eat praise up, ego flourishing under compliments, but the way he was avoiding meeting Midoriya’s eyes was enough on its own to be cause for confusion. In his seat, Bakugou shifted back and forth subtle, lower lip caught between his teeth. It dawned on him that Bakugou had felt guilty; was still feeling guilty. It was obvious behind the furrowed eyebrows and down slanted eyes.
Midoriya, deciding he had to say something, swallowed the food in his mouth without chewing thoroughly and almost choked, but managed to get by with a few weak coughs.
“Kacchan, I really do forgive you,” he said nervously once the food went down. “Maybe you’re right and that’s just me being stupid, but maybe… maybe I don’t want to be smart. You told me yesterday that forgiving you should be hard, but not forgiving you is, well it’s just exhausting. I would’ve died if I hadn’t been able to forgive you; so I won’t let you feel guilty because you can’t forgive yourself.”
Once the words left his mouth, Midoriya wondered if he had overstepped his bounds. What if Bakugou didn’t feel guilty and he had just misread the situation? Either way, the words took weight off his shoulders, and he prayed as silence dragged on that they were worth saying.
“Fine.”
Midoriya would be lying if he said he didn’t jump in his seat a bit.
“I can’t promise I won’t be a dick in the future. But I’ll be… fucking- less of a dick? I don’t fucking know. This wasn’t how I planned on spending my weekend.”
“Sor-”
“If you apologize I’ll blast you into the sun.”
Midoriya snapped his jaw shut and stared.
“But you… you won't try anything like that again right? Because if you do, I’ll kill you.”
The sun peered in through the window above the stove, illuminating Bakugou in a halo of light. Midoriya nodded and smiled, crossing fingers across his heart in a silent promise.
The wooden chair roof was smooth, polished wood cool against Midoriya’s skin. He felt it, feeling no need to resolve the slight discomfort as it made contact with his cuts. Right above the hardwood floor his legs hung, feet thumping rhythmically every few seconds against the bar connecting two chair legs.
The air radiating of Bakugou was warm.