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Bakugou Katsuki never liked winter, especially the days where the glass of the windows were embroidered with frost and the snow blanketed every surface it could reach till it was soaking the ankles of unsuspecting souls who braved the outside. He did not like the redness tinting his cheeks nor the numb feeling that tickled his nose. He did not like the ice that filled up his veins until he could not move nor speak nor reach out for help. Simply put, Katsuki did not like the cold.
On days when the cool breezes were too much or he could not shake the ice in his veins, he would crank up the heat in his dorm room until it was like a sauna and the sweat poured from his skin in a constant stream. Sometimes, the smell of nitroglycerin would help to chase the nightmares away at night. Sometimes, it only made it worse.
***
On the morning of the trial, Katsuki turned on all the lights in his room, cranked the temperature up to thirty degrees Celsius, wrapped himself up in four blankets, and fell into a heap on his bed. He did not want to think of cold nights or disappointed red eyes or blue turned fingers. He did not want to see his mother’s face nor her wrath in front of so many people who did not know him and whom he did not know. He did not want to see the guilt-stricken expression of his father nor hear his pleas of forgiveness.
He did not want to go to this trial.
This trial he’d put so much energy and hope into happening. This trial he couldn’t have even dreamed of happening a few months ago. This trial that was made possible by Katou, the first adult who’d ever supported him and rooted for him and made him feel like he was worth something.
He wanted to go for Katou, for his hero, but the mere thought of being in the same room as his abusive mother had Katsuki pulling the blankets closer around him and burying his face deeper into his pillow.
A soft knock sounded at the door, and Katsuki knew who it was, but he couldn’t bring himself to call out for her to come in let alone get up and open the door for her.
They called out instead, a soft, “Bakugou? Can I come in?” After a moment of him not saying anything, the door knob twisted. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”
Katou’s understanding smile met him when he finally looked towards the door. “Hey, champ. How are you doing?”
Katsuki managed to pull an offended look onto his face. “How do you think I’m doing? Also, don’t call me champ. That’s fucking weird.”
With a sigh, she sat at the very edge of his bed. “You don’t have to go, you know. Your closure moment doesn’t have to be at the trial. It could be when you’re by yourself in this very room or when you’re hanging out with a friend.” She stopped for a second and frowned, fanning herself as best she could with her hand. “Sorry, a bit off topic, but why is it so hot in here? And why are you surrounded by so many blankets when it is this hot?”
“It’s not that hot in here,” he mumbled.
Katou raised both eyebrows and gave him The Look. “You’re sweating buckets right now, kiddo. Try again.”
Katsuki sat up with a huff. “I like the heat, okay? It’s… it’s better than the, uh, well. It’s better than the, uh, the cold.”
He didn’t like how his counselor’s expression morphed into one of sympathy. “This is a coping mechanism for you, isn’t it?”
“We’re not having a therapy session right now, hag. I don’t have to answer any of your stupid questions.” He ignored how his words wavered and his arms seized tighter and tighter around himself.
Katou did not ignore this. After a moment of gazing at him with an indiscernible expression, she stood up from the bed and walked over to his thermostat, turning the knob until the air no longer berated against Katsuki’s skin like the arid winds of the desert. “I’m doing this for your own good, Bakugou. Not as your counselor or as an adult, but as someone who cares about you.” She walked back and sat once again at the edge of his bed, leveling him with a kind, yet stern, look. “Overheating yourself is not a good coping mechanism. You only make yourself feel worse by doing this, and I don’t want you to feel worse. I want you to feel good and comfortable in your own skin, and this isn’t the way to do it.”
The words rang true in Katsuki’s mind, but he didn’t want to admit it aloud. He knew it was a bad coping mechanism. He knew and knew and knew and still decided to do it on the bad days. “Sometimes, the cold is too much to think about,” he said. “Sometimes, the thought of it consumes me until I'm left wanting to feel any sensation but that.”
“I’m more than willing to talk when you feel that way, as a counselor or as a friend. And I’m sure there are others who would stay by you when that happens as well.”
Spiky red hair and a blinding smile came to mind. “That's... not the worst idea you've had.”
***
Katsuki did not go to the trial. When he told Katou that he wasn't going, she patted him on the shoulder, said, “I understand,” and left with the promise of coming by later to tell him what happened.
He did not shed the blankets as the AC kicked on and threatened to leave goosebumps and raised hairs along his arms. Bad coping mechanism or not, Katsuki needed comfort right now, and the blankets provided that.
Katou’s words echoed in his mind. On days when panic crawled under his skin and ice trickled through his veins, Katsuki wished he could simply reach out to someone else. He wished he could invite them over and lay with them in silence as he leached off their body heat and let go of the tension holding him in place.
Why couldn’t he do it? His phone wasn’t even an arm’s length away. Why couldn’t he reach out and ask someone to come over? To hold him close and tell him everything would be okay and that nothing was his fault even when he felt like it was? Why couldn’t he say he wanted Kirishima, he wanted Eijirou, here, holding his hand and smoothing back his hair and smiling that stupid smile of his that never failed to brighten up Katsuki’s day?
Why was Katsuki such a coward?
No, he wasn’t a coward. He was afraid of rejection, but why? Kirishima, Eijirou, would never… he would never push a friend away, even if that friend was angry, mean-spirited Bakugou.
Before he could convince himself not to, Katsuki reached out and texted Eijirou three simple words. I need you.
***
Eijirou showed up not even five minutes later, a bowl of chicken noodle soup in one hand and a copy of Fight Club in the other.
Katsuki was too drained to hold back the soft smile that curled his lips and had him chuckling to himself. “You’re ridiculous.”
Eijirou gently set the soup on Katsuki’s bedside table and shoved the movie into the DVD player before worming his way into the mess of blankets on the bed. “You know you love it.”
Luckily, he wasn’t too far gone in his self-wallowing to answer that. Instead, he scooped up the bowl of chicken noodle soup and began digging in as the opening scenes of the movie popped up on his tiny dorm television.
Slowly, and noticeably, Eijirou moved closer and closer to Katsuki during the movie until his head rested softly against blond locks and his arm rested comfortably around Katsuki’s waist. “Is this okay?” Eijirou asked. “If it’s not, I can move. Easily. I just thought… that you might want this too, but if I’m wrong, tell me. We can forget this ever happened.”
Eijirou gazed at him with so much worry in his eyes, concerned he had done something wrong, that Katsuki couldn’t help but snort then snuggle closer to him. He averted his eyes, cheeks flushed red, before he answered. “I don’t want you to move, Ei. Don’t be an idiot.”
“Oh. Okay.” The happiness in Eijirou’s voice had Katsuki smiling as they continued to watch the movie as much as one can watch a movie when they’re not really feeling the greatest and are currently being comforted by their crush. “Thanks for letting me come over, Katsuki.”
Katsuki felt warm all over from hearing his name said by Eijirou.
He hadn’t even been there for thirty minutes, and Katsuki was already starting to feel better. Well, not really better but more… relaxed. The tension bled from his body, and the thought of winter lost its grip on him.
***
“Your mother will never hurt you again.”
Something tight and bruising and ugly around Katsuki’s heart loosened its hold at those words, and, for the first time that he could ever think of, he felt free.
***
On days when the cool breezes were too much or he could not shake the ice in his veins, Katsuki used to crank up the heat in his dorm room until it was like a sauna and the sweat poured from his skin in a constant stream. More often than not, the smell of nitroglycerin left him with nightmares of a mother he once knew.
Now, Katsuki called up whoever was available and ate chicken noodle soup while watching crappy old movies until he no longer felt the cold nipping at his toes and the tips of his fingers and nose. Sometimes that person was Izuku. Sometimes that person was Shouto or Kaminari or Sero or Ashido. Most days that person was Eijirou.
Kind, caring Eijirou who always smiled at Katsuki and held him close and told him how good of a person he was on the days he did not believe those words by himself. Eijirou who, after weeks of shared looks and arms around waists and clasped together hands, told Katsuki how much he liked him and the idea of them together. Eijirou who stayed with him, despite the mess that was Bakugou Katsuki.
Kirishima Eijirou, the boy who liked to tell him how loved he was and how great of a hero he would become when they graduated. Whom Katsuki loved back just as much and wouldn’t trade for the world.