Chapter Text
I kept a facade up against this pain I was unaware of
This heart that I held on, has always been hurting
Your gentle gaze undid my wounds
Re:birth Day
Quirkless sparring is a boring part of UA. You’re expected to partner up and fight every other night, after all the daily classes and chores. It’s a stress reliever for most, that’s for sure.
It’s not particularly uncommon for someone to show up to class the next day with a bruise or a cut or an aching body, since Recovery Girl declared that minor injuries didn’t require her quirk. It also depended on who you fought the night before.
Fighting Todoroki or Uraraka mainly ended in a soft pin down or being outsmarted. A hard punch to the face wasn’t particularly common, and you preferred to switch your partners around to round out your abilities more.
You had to fight Bakugou at some point. Might as well be now.
To say you were nervous was an understatement - he was your friend, but he never went easy on anyone. He was stronger, taller, probably faster, and you were mediocre at best when it came to quirkless sparring anyway. You still retained some semblance of confidence, though. Anything can happen.
He’s already ready to go when you arrive at the training grounds. He’s sat on the bench in his training outfit, shirt unbuttoned with a black tank top underneath. Hot, but you were about to get your ass handed to you. Looking over to you, he raises his head briefly in greeting, but his eyes are mad. You take a moment to look around the hall - Todoroki and Midoriya are sparring in some quiet corner and Kirishima and Ashido are taking a break on the other side. Alright, you think. Time to rumble.
You chuck your bag to the ground and stretch your arms, smiling lightly at Bakugou. He huffs, and joins you.
“You ready?” You ask, but you didn’t need to. It was obvious he was raring to go. He smiles at you, the disconcerting one, and you go cold. Shaking it off, you smile back, and the fight begins.
He always goes on the offensive first, this much is obvious. You’re forced into a defensive position, blocking his moves and trying to keep your footing. He’s fast, and you’re fast, and you keep cancelling each other out. You both manage to land a few hits on each other, and you try to blink out of the stun you feel every time his hands hit you.
It gets harder to keep up with him. He’s just so strong, so strong, and you want to win. So you tank more hits, and so does he, but he keeps coming back with more firepower and you don’t and it hurts.
He’s just - his eyes are a little on the manic side. And a little sad. Like he’s frustrated.
A kick to your stomach leaves you winded and the force sends you crashing to the floor, curled up and obviously unable to fight any longer. The sound silences the room.
“Hey, dumbass, get up,” Bakugou snarls, looming above you. You’re still trying to catch your breath, eyes wide and pained and you’re sweating. His chest is heaving.
“I said get up!” He’s so loud. So, so loud.
He kicks you in the ribs, and you flinch hard, whimpering, covering your head with your hands and curling down smaller. You vaguely hear movement, but you’re too afraid to look up. There’s a kick to your back, and you cry.
And then there’s a cry and the footsteps get louder and then he doesn’t kick you again. There’s shouting, and a scuffle. There’s hands on your back, cold, but soft, and another pair gently trying to coax your arms open and you recoil when they make contact. You whimper when the cold hands skim over the spot he’d just kicked you.
The hands manage to unfold your arms just slightly and you see bright pink.
“Can you sit up?” Her voice is soft, caring, and you stare at her. You unfurl just slightly, and nod just minutely, and she smiles at you. The cold hands move to help you up, and Ashido stays in front of you, holding your hand and offering a water bottle once you were upright.
Your nose is bleeding, and you have tears still streaking down your face. There’s already bruises blooming in multiple places, and you’re shaken to hell. Todoroki keeps his cold hand on the bruise on your back.
And then, you look over to Bakugou.
He was obviously being held back in the scuffle beforehand, Kirishima still holding him firmly by the shoulder and Midoriya hanging close nearby on standby. They’re both angry. The tension was thick in the silence between them, and everyone seemed to stop when you looked over.
He’d crumbled, on his knees, disbelieving and angry and guilty look on his face, and when his eyes snapped up to yours you couldn’t help but flinch. And he seemed to crumble more, finally shocked into realisation.
“I’m -“ he starts, and looks down again. “I’m sorry,” he says, quietly.
You nod, not trusting your voice. Kirishima pats him hard on the shoulder and turns to leave, not without giving ample warning to Bakugou.
Alone, he seems to open up.
“I’m really - I’m so sorry,” and he looks at you, shakier and more sincere than you’ve ever seen him. “I don’t know what happened. But I fucked up. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.”
There’s a pause, and then Bakugou gets up, and he walks over to you. You are wary, obviously.
He holds out his hands to help you up and you take them. And when you wobble into him, he doesn’t push you off, and he doesn’t make a face or swear or anything. He helps you walk out of the hall, slowly, and he helps you up the stairs in the dorms and gets you ice and painkillers. He sits on the edge of your bed, and he talks, and you listen. He talks about his therapy, his problems, what he’s doing to stop and when he’s done, you can’t say anything but the truth.
“You scared me. I’m - I’m really disappointed in you, and I’m gonna be honest when I say I don’t know how Midoriya could ever forgive you for this.” Your voice is quiet and his lip quivers, just a little. “You hurt me. Both physically and mentally.”
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
You don’t know what else to say, because you’ve never seen him beat himself up like this before (though you’re sure he’s had talks like this with Kirishima, he’s never opened up to you ). He’s staring at the wall, teeth worrying at his bottom lip, shoulders hunched. You reach forward and place a hand on his shoulder, soft enough that he doesn’t startle out of his thoughts. He looks over to you, with your gentle face and pretty eyes, and he doesn’t push away when you hug him.
It takes him a while to relax and hug you back, strong arms meeting around your waist. You’re both comforting each other.
He’s sorry. He knows he crossed a line, you can see it on his face, and you can hear it in his words.
You hold each other, warm and quiet, and you talk. About anything, everything, and you understand each other. Lying next to each other in your bed, you roll over onto your side, ignoring the pressure it puts on your bruises. He’s focused on your ceiling, and the smile that graces your face is tender. All his anger has been flushed out.
He’s warm, so warm, and you fall asleep with your face on his shoulder.