Chapter Text
Growing up, Bakugou had always struggled with the concept and practice of love. His father had told him love was listening, being patient and having empathy for the people you care about, even if they hurt you. His mother had said something similar, although she stressed the importance of spending time with them, even if you were tired, even if you had something else to do.
Bakugou didn’t get it.
He had never been the patient type, his body practically forcing him to speed things up before he inevitably got bored and spaced out. He also wasn't huge on the listening part—sure he could listen, but he was, again, still prone to spacing out, and his mind often supplied much more interesting topics than the people he conversed with did. On top of that, the whole concept of empathy pained him to think about.
“What do you mean I’m supposed to feel bad for somebody else when nothing bad happened to me? Why would I ever do that?” He had asked his mom, age seven, on a hot summer's day. Back then, her answer hadn’t really helped him all that much and nowadays he can’t even remember it.
Because he was sixteen now. And he had friends.
Not understanding how to care for others properly was fine back then, when he didn’t really need to know—nobody was caring for him before U.A. and he sure as fuck wasn’t caring for anybody else either.
But ever since Kamino Ward—maybe even before that—he had had...friends? Acquaintances? People who, for some fucking reason, decided they care about his wellbeing and, for some even more confusing fucking reason, he had, against his own will, started caring back.
Enter the self proclaimed “Bakusquad” who took up more of his time than he’d ever willingly give, forced him to cook for them, help them study, clean up their messes like some kind of goddamn mother , and so on.
Yet, he couldn’t find it in him to truly get mad at their antics. Not when they worked so hard to not get mad at his-
(I know I’m a pain in the ass for everyone, them especially. It’s the least I can do, it’s what I should do for those fuckers. It’s not a thank you or an apology, just an acknowledgement; an acknowledgement that we’re all fucking leeching off each other now and I’ll do my part as long as they do theirs-)
-bullshit.
Is this what he meant when he said be patient?
Whatever. Things were fine now. And things worked as they were. Sure, he wasn’t doing his part as well as they probably hoped, what with all the screaming, but he could say the same for them, what with how many meals he was cooking for free.
Still, as long as he kept cooking, as long as he kept offering them study time, as long as he didn’t blow up on them too much, he would be able to keep them, right?
Right?
Wrong.
“Li-ike...I shouldn’t be so upset about it, it’s a passing- passing grade, but...I just feel so bad be-because we spent so much time working on this together, ya know? A-and all the others did so good, so why didn’t…” Ashido trailed off, huffing as she wiped aggressively at her damp cheeks.
Bakugou had no clue how to respond to this. It was one thing when he thought Ashido was dragging him aside to ask him for outfit advice or some stupid shit that he would be done with in no time. Yet there he was, watching her cry in the most awkward silence he had probably produced to date. He’d never been good at the comforting shit, especially not when tears were involved.
Why the fuck didn’t she grab one of the others?
“Can you just...can you just look this over so I can figure out what the-” she paused, sniffling, a sob wracking her body, “what the fuck I did wrong?”
Oh.
“Is that all you wanted?”
Ashido sucked in a deep breath, her eyes seeming to refill rapidly as she blinked down at him, face somehow seeming to get redder.
“Fuck, that came out wrong-”
“You think?” She snapped, although her expression already seemed a lot less grim.
“I just...figured you’d want some fucking comfort or something, I don’t know. You’re crying and usually people want comfort for that shit, yeah?”
Ashido scoffed, but a weak smile curved her lips, “Yeah, I guess, but I know how you feel about...hugs and other ‘gushy’ stuff. It’s not your forte and I don’t wanna force you.” Her voice was nasally, but he much preferred it to the sound of her full blown crying through her words like she had been only a minute before.
Rubbing his neck awkwardly, Bakugou nodded, “Fair enough. Give me the papers and I’ll bring them back to you later.”
Ashido nodded, giving him a thumbs up before going to rummage through her bag. As she did, Bakugou stood from his spot at the end of her bed, readjusting his own bag on his shoulder. They had just gotten out of class when the acid user had grabbed him by the jacket, pulling him away from their other friends silently and speed walking them to her room in no time. It would’ve been impressive, had Bakugou not been so confused.
“Here,” She handed him the papers, a small 73% sitting at the top in red ink.
Not even that bad…
Rolling the papers into a cylinder shape, Bakugou walked to her door, opening it to let himself out, before he paused abruptly. Tilting his head back and forth, he considered the consequences of acting on his thoughts, before finally groaning and turning back around.
Ashido was stood not too far behind him, her face still puffy and flushed, lashes tacky from salt water. Before he could overthink it anymore, he surged forward, wrapping the pink haired girl in a rough hug.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had even hugged someone. It felt so odd, having the heat of another person pressed against his chest, the sound of her giving a surprised yelp into his ear feeling both annoying and so very welcomed as he awkwardly patted her shoulder.
As Ashido came to understand what was happening, she giggled lightly, shoving her face into Bakugou’s hair and squeezing her arms around his shoulders.
“You didn’t have to do this, ya know?”
“I know. I don’t do things unless I fucking want to though, you should know this by now.” He spoke softly, running a hand over her hair hesitantly before pulling back. The hug had only lasted a handful of seconds, but it felt far too unfamiliar to him for it to go on any longer.
“Thanks, Bakubro.” Ashido’s voice was still wet, but she was smiling a proper smile this time, dimples on full display.
Rolling his eyes at the nickname, he turned on his heel, “Whatever, pinky,” he muttered, leaving her dorm swiftly.