Work Text:
{You are my sunshine}
This was how they met.
Katsuki had been dragged to yet another fashion show, courtesy of his parents. While the Yamamoto Palette might be interesting to see, Katsuki and his parents had arrived super early to the event, so Katsuki had to wait 45 minutes for the damn thing to start. Luckily, there weren’t many people there yet, so Katsuki was able to take the time to look around and enjoy the large, mostly empty space while it lasted.
Or, that was his plan, anyway.
“Hey,” a voice sounded behind him, accompanied by an insistent tap on his shoulder. He sighed, preparing to answer the same dumbass questions about the dumbass Sports Festival (because of PR and all that), and turned around to meet eyes filled not with wonder, but disbelief.
“What do you think you’re wearing?” They demanded.
Katsuki blinked, thrown by the question. “Clothes,” he deadpanned, forgetting any incentive to remain civil. “Why the hell do you give a shit?”
"Why do I—? Listen here, 'T-shirt'..."
No way in hell was Katsuki about to listen to some extra on a high horse rant about the significance of his clothing. While he was able to tune out their insistent voice, however, such a privilege was not granted to his eyesight. The silver rings the fucker wore waved around as they spoke, and they kept reflecting the overhead lights right into his face. It was infuriating.
When Katsuki wasn't being blinded by metal he was hit with suns—or maybe flowers, he couldn't really tell—patterning a black haori. Despite the offensive shade of yellow, the fabric seemed soft, with the way it slid over the nuisance's arms. It was probably made of some expensive-ass silk, especially considering the context of the situation. It was almost captivating—
"…Not to mention…Are–are you checking me out?"
Now Katsuki was listening.
"Wh- No!" he sputtered. "You’re just talking big for someone in such a shitty outfit. Your rings are literally assaulting my eyes."
"I'm flattered, but it's not like you have room to talk," the Sun/flower fucker laughed. "I mean, the 'Finals Week' aesthetic might've been more trendy when people were actually in school, but it's summer, honey. You gotta keep up."
Katsuki scoffed. "I don't give a fuck about trends, this shit's comfortable and it matches. Besides, I could run you over on that walkway any day, so don't think I can't keep up."
Something in the Sun-flower's eyes lit up, and Katsuki wasn't sure why his heart raced at the sight of it. He'll admit, he was expecting them to back off after his jab, but they leaned into his space instead.
"Is that a challenge?" they asked, voice low.
"You started it," Katsuki bit back, albeit a little quieter, acting unfazed. He hoped that his face didn't betray him and remained it's usual color, but the actual result was a toss up. After all, they were really close.
And he wasn't sure if he minded that yet.
"I won't disagree. Follow me." Sunfucker whipped around and started to walk towards the backstage area.
"The fuck? Where are you going?" Katsuki blurted, jolting out of whatever stupor he was in.
They looked back at him like he was stupid. "Uh, backstage. Where do you think?"
Katsuki was about to blow something up. "I fucking know that! But I'm not part of the show, dumbass. I'd get kicked out."
"I don't think you will. After all," Sunflower hummed, pulling out a name tag reading Haru Yamamoto from their collar, "the designer wants you."
Oh.
Oh shit.
He was talking to— he insulted—!?
A million thoughts and possibilities raced through his mind as his face, no doubt, turned a deep shade of red. Would he get kicked out? What about his parents, would they get blacklisted or someshit?
But if that was gonna happen then why did they continue to dish it right back?
Wait, but they...want him?
"Like...in the show?" Katsuki asked, slowly.
"Yeah, in the show too." Yamamoto drawled.
They were making another beeline for backstage before Katsuki could ask what that meant.
~~~
{My only sunshine}
Flirtatious yet vulnerable conversations and three months found Haru and Katsuki together backstage again.
“Put this on,” Haru said, tossing the outfit over their shoulder. While Katsuki was able to prevent the belt from hitting his face, the rest of it draped over his head like the worst impromptu ghost costume imaginable.
He didn't have to try it on to know the size of the thing. Once he found the hanger he was able to lift it off of his head to properly glare at his partner, who continued to card through a clothes rack.
"This is way too big," he said, disgruntled.
"That's not what you were saying last night," Haru quipped.
"I- because we went to sleep! We didn't say anything last night!" Katsuki retorted, ears burning.
Having the outfit cover his face might not be so bad anymore, Katsuki thought as Haru cackled at his outburst. "You're a fucking menace, you know that?" he grumbled.
"I aim to please," Haru smirked, blowing a kiss. If Katsuki had a free hand, he would've caught it and torn it up out of spite.
"Then you have a shitty aim," he countered. "'cause I would drown in this. Provided, I could get it to stay on in the first place."
Haru turned around and placed both hands on Katsuki's shoulders. "This outfit is something I've been working on with Hatsume, so just trust me on this one. It should all fit once you put it on."
"How the fuck would it—?"
"Why don't you find out? Thanks!" Katsuki was being turned around by the shoulders and ushered behind a curtain before he could finish the question. Haru kissed his cheek and closed the curtain in one smooth motion, and Katsuki was left to navigate the outfit.
Neatly pressed dark grey slacks and a black turtleneck were attached to the hanger. The black top was accompanied by a loose, long-sleeved button up that had a floral pattern of sunflowers on a black background. Interesting size choice aside, was a nice outfit.
Katsuki grimaced at the way the outfit as a whole was taller than him, but decided to humor Haru anyway. As he suspected, everything was extremely loose on him. The pants were awkwardly baggy, and they bunched up around his waist because he had the belt on. Seriously, what was Haru thinking, putting him in this?
He opened the curtain to ask as much, when the clothes started to shift. The pants and shirt tightened to a comfortable degree, and the button-up looked intentionally loose. It was no longer in danger of falling off his shoulders.
Haru smiled at him. "Does it fit now?" they asked, strolling up to him and adjusting the collar of the shirt. The collar didn't need to be adjusted however, so they really just ended up running their fingers along the silk.
Katsuki, still dumbfounded by the change, could only manage a nod.
"To answer your many, many questions, Hatsume and I worked with a team to design clothing that automatically adjusts to the wearer's size. We figured this would be really useful to people with quirks that allow them to alter their size. Makes style more accessible, y'know?"
Accessible fashion? To help so many people...
"I know- I know you don't change size, but I wanted you to, uh, experience it yourself, and that's just me. Our biggest worry was that the nanotechnology would clip the wearer as it contracted, so I hope that didn't happen! It's part of why we named it, uh, Safety Pin technology. But that would probably be copyrighted if we actually branded it that wa—"
Haru's ramble was cut short by Katsuki's lips on theirs. After a short moment, he pulled away, and honey-colored eyes met crimson ones.
"You are amazing," Katsuki said.
It was finally Haru's turn to blush. "I'm so glad you like it."
Twenty minutes later, everything was pretty much set for the show. Haru ordered Katsuki to wait outside the curtain while they got ready themselves.
After a few minutes, Haru emerged from their room. They looked great as always, but what really caught Katsuki's eye was the haori, which was black and patterned with suns.
Katsuki looked at the suns on Haru's haori, then the sunflowers on his own shirt.
Wait a minute.
"Wait, did you do this on—?"
Haru had disappeared by the time he looked back up.
~~~
{You make me happy}
Meeting someone outside of UA was hard, to say the least. Not only was the paperwork a bitch, but everytime Katsuki left he was met with suspicious looks from the nosier portion of his classmates.
But for Haru, it was worth it.
Katsuki would endure a thousand questions from Mina (read: go to hell and back) if it meant that he would still get to see Haru every weekend.
This was something Katsuki realized when Haru pressed their lips to his for the first time outside of their favorite café, and Haru returned the sentiment, though their 'Mina' was a grueling bus ride.
Haru favored mornings and evenings on the weekend, because Katsuki became super talkative when he was half-asleep and his rambles were precious to Haru. They loved seeing how his mind worked, even if it was only in glimpses.
“Did you know your name means ‘Sunshine’?” he asked, seemingly out of nowhere one evening.
“It does?” Haru responded, brushing ash blonde locks away from Katsuki's face.
Katsuki hummed. “Yeah. Makes sense, 'cause you're so bright all th' time. And you're hot as fuck."
Haru chuckled. "Why thank you."
"But it's also like... it makes sense ‘cause you bring life. You...turn heads and people want to get more of you and they're happy when they do..." Katsuki paused to take a deep breath and press closer to Haru. "... but they can get that from the Sun in the sky. You're my sunshine and I'm not sharing."
Haru giggled again, then kissed Katsuki's forehead. "Would that make you a sunflower then?"
Katsuki grumbled. "Yeah, I guess. 'M gonna do photosynthesis and shit..."
~~~
{When skies are gray}
Katsuki had never been good with words, so he deemed them pointless, and believed actions showed one’s real intentions. That way, there was no need to articulate when it came to social situations; the fact that he wasn’t blowing people up or threatening to was enough.
He wanted to try harder though, once he realized he had something worthwhile to say. Haru deserved to know.
That motivation wasn't enough, though. No matter how hard he tried to verbally express his deep-seated feelings...his love for Haru, he always ended up chickening out. If his voice was a hand, then the words "I love you" were oil, slipping through the cracks that were his insecurities. It was frustrating that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t say those words. It frustrated him beyond everything.
Unlike his real voice, the voice in the back of his head had no problems saying exactly what it meant. It didn't hesitate to call him weak for being too chickenshit to say it.
Haru, ever bold, had said it numerous times already. So why couldn't he do it?
The voice thinks it's because he must not love them enough.
Katsuki drowned those kinds of thoughts out by using other ways to show how much Haru meant to him. Soft touches and tenderly cooked meals. Carefully wrapped gifts and competitive Mario Kart races.
Sometimes it wasn't enough, and the voice would overpower everything else.
The voice would get loud, and no amount of stir fry would silence it.
The only thing that always silenced it was facts. The fact that Haru would still embrace him after a nightmare in a calm, smooth voice, helping to loosen the vice grip he had on them. The fact that they never got angry that he had never said it, even though they had already made it perfectly clear how they felt about him through their words.
Haru's patterns, sweet and genuine, shone light through the dark parts of his mind and gave him a reminder that not only did Haru love him, but they knew he loved them too.
He still wished he could say it, though.
~~~
{You’ll never know dear, how much I love you}
“You can’t, it’s dangerous!” Katsuki said.
“Yeah no fucking shit!” Haru yelled, and Katsuki stepped back. Haru rarely cursed.
"Look," they started, softer, "I get that you want me to be safe, but I’m not running away to UA. This is my home, and I’ll protect it if I have to. Besides, you and your team are gonna track them down, right? So I shouldn’t have anything to worry about.” Haru glared back at him, steadfast in their decision. “I’m staying here,” they said, daring him to refuse again.
And if Bakugou knew what would transpire that night, he definitely would have.
Katsuki shook himself. He couldn’t afford to lament over their fight as he ducked behind the crate, less than fifteen feet away from Haru, who was bound to a chair. Caught up in this mess. Him and his team had been too late to stop Haru from being taken hostage, and all he could do now was silently plead for more time.
With more time, backup would arrive, and Haru would be safe, and Katsuki would know what to say. He would tell them exactly what feeling had plagued him these past few months. He had to.
He needed to.
Haru shook their head.
There was no time.
The gunshot rang through Katsuki’s ears. It was louder than any of the other gunshots he had heard today.
Louder still, were those honey-colored eyes, piercing through him with pinpoint accuracy. They said everything they needed to, everything Katsuki couldn’t.
‘I love you’
‘I’m sorry’
Katsuki scrambled forward only to be held back by one of his teammates, and the gunshot that rang as loud as a bomb rocketed across the room, straight through Haru’s skull.
That gunshot was the only sound he could remember as he sat in the ambulance.
He didn’t remember the sound of quirk-canceling cuffs being snapped on the villains. He didn’t remember the sound of every siren wailing in the distance.
He didn’t remember the sound of his own screams that mourned the loss of a partner.
~~~
{Please don’t take my sunshine away}
“Bakugou, see me after class.”
Of course he failed, he only answered 4 out of the 35 questions. His hands were so cold he could barely move them. The hand on his shoulder provided no relief, but he nodded anyway when Aizawa told him not to push himself too hard.
He wasn’t even sure if he could push himself at all.
Katsuki didn’t exactly remember changing into his hero costume. There was no time to contemplate that, however.
No time...
He was still cold, but maybe warming up with some explosions would help. Katsuki placed a hand on a slab of cement to start his routine, but paused as nothing sparked. He couldn’t use his quirk?
Katsuki examined his hand. He could clearly see the sweat that should be igniting, but when he tried, it didn't.
How could he be a hero without his quirk?
“..ou.”
Should he even be a hero? What kind of hero can’t save those most important to them?
“..kugou-”
If he let the love of his life die, what would he do to regular civilians?
“Bakugou!”
Bloodshot eyes blinked back to awareness. Wasn’t he just in Gym Gamma?
“You...anic attack.”
He’s sorry.
“No-! It’s just...oing alright? Your...rk study..”
Yes, he didn’t study so he failed. Shitty Hair didn’t have to rub it in.
“...st lay down for now...”
Katsuki was coaxed onto his side, and a blanket was pulled to his shoulders.
The blanket did nothing to keep him warm, because it was meant to preserve pre-existing heat.
But when the warmth is gone, it's useless. And it will continue to stay useless unless something else warms it up.
If the warmth was gone forever, then the blanket would be useless forever.
Katsuki didn't know why he wept at the thought.
~~~
{The other night, dear}
Aizawa wasn’t going to pretend he wasn’t concerned for his student. Bakugou had been borderline unresponsive ever since his panic attack, so Aizawa let Kirishima take Bakugou back to the classroom so Shuuzenji could brief her results.
Recovery Girl pointed to the numbers on the screen. “The nitroglycerin levels are all normal- for Bakugou-kun, anyway. It's likely that he's subconsciously avoiding making explosions because it may trigger memories."
"Memories of what?" Aizawa asked, hesitant.
"Gunshots.”
Aizawa stilled at that.
“Based on the report that came back from Bakugou-kun’s work study, there was a hostage taken, but they were shot and killed before he or his team could get to them. The child saw a life taken in front of his very eyes, so please…give the boy some time, Shouta.”
Aizawa thought back to Nighteye. While that death had been a hero, this one was a civilian. Knowing Bakugou, he’d be really hard on himself for failing to save them. But that was what came with the job. Heroes can’t save everybody. It was a painful fact that they would all come to realize sooner or later.
And it pained Aizawa even further that Katsuki had experienced the former.
~~~
{As I lay sleeping}
Every day was excruciating. It felt as if he was living with a large void in him now that they were…
Now that they weren’t here.
The emptiness tormented Katsuki, making his very existence seem to contract under itself. His vision became tunneled, and the minor hearing problems he already had multiplied sixfold. He could barely register Kirishima’s obnoxious hair, or hear him try to coax Katsuki into the kitchen to eat tasteless food.
Katsuki was sure the soup was warm, and he didn't want to be hungry, but the last time he tried to eat something warm it ended up with him hunched over the toilet for an extended amount of time, so he abandoned the attempt altogether.
The cold diligently did its job, numbing his nerve endings to such an extent that vague pressure was the only thing he could consistently detect. The soft texture of a haori or the sharpness of a cut jewel might as well have been distant memories.
As the days went on, the longing, insatiable yearn for his partner became almost unbearable. The only thing that brought a semblance of relief was shutting down, so that's what he did.
Katsuki became a husk of old memories, clinging to the past, where the Sunshine was. Replaying every moment, from the execution of their latest fashion show, to the time they gifted him a single paper-clip that had been bent into a heart.
He held onto them, even if they changed, even if they faded. Inevitably, they would slip away with Haru and he would forget what that warmth felt like altogether. What he would do then, he didn't know.
He didn't want to know, either.
~~~
{I dreamt I held you}
Midoriya expected the worst case scenario to happen when Mina stood up and declared she would drag Kacchan downstairs to eat. Sure, she could handle getting lashed out at better than Kirishima, but Kacchan tolerated Kirishima more, so yelling was nearly out of the question with him.
Midoriya couldn’t help but sigh in relief when the elevator door opened, confirming her survival at the very least. Mina walked out, holding Kacchan's wrist. There wasn't any resistance from the latter.
Mina led him to the kitchen table and he sat down, seemingly on autopilot. Then, she shook something into a napkin and set it down in front of him.
"Since the curry didn’t stay down, we thought crackers would be better. Just take a few bites, that's all I want." Mina pleaded.
To Midoriya's pleasant surprise, Kacchan listened. He finished half of them.
Satisfied, Mina decided not to push it further. "Come to my room if you ever wanna talk, okay?" Mina ruffled his hair.
"I'm going to bed." Kacchan stood up from the chair and walked back to the elevator.
For a second, Kacchan's eyes didn't look so empty. He looked like he was searching for something, even if he was still lost.
Midoriya wondered how he knew that Kacchan wouldn’t find what he was looking for.
~~~
{Inside my arms}
“Good morning, love.”
Red eyes cracked open, and Katsuki looked up at his partner. “You’re too far away, c’mere.” he said, making grabby hands.
Haru chuckled, and returned Katsuki’s embrace. “Who knew you’d be so cuddly when you’re half asleep?”
Katsuki snorted. “Whatever, you’re warm.”
“It’s Sunday, we can lay here as long as you want.” Haru languidly stroked Katsuki’s hair, their hands gentle, like a summer breeze. Katsuki let out an involuntary hum at the sensation. A small, irrational part of him wanted to stay like this forever.
“I’m sorry.”
Katsuki’s brow furrowed. “Sorry? For what?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Hey, you’re not making any fucking sens-”
“I’m sorry.”
Katsuki jerked awake. A dream? That’s weird. He rolled over to rewrap his arms around… the vacant pillow next to him.
I’m sorry.
As reality began to sink in, Katsuki clutched the pillow tighter. It had no residual heat from his partner, so he couldn’t pretend they'd already gotten up. Pretending never worked, anyway.
~~~
{When I awoke, dear}
Midoriya knew that Kacchan didn’t like it when he analyzed him, but sometimes he couldn’t help it. Despite his…antics, Midoriya really cared about Kacchan, and it was clear that his work study affected him. Badly.
Of course, nobody ever really stayed the same after going out on the field. Bandages often covered a good portion of provisional heroes' faces, sluggish movements from a long day were accompanied with a new air of vigilance, and their eyes...
They always seemed exhausted. Not necessarily from lack of sleep though. It was the first sight of the raw, gruesome side of hero work that overwhelmed them, robbing them of naïve optimism and leaving only shocked numbness to pick up the pieces.
Midoriya had always been very observant though, and he could see more in those eyes. And what resided inside them was far from anything truly defeated. No, there was always a pit of resolve. A commitment to be better, and stronger, so that every time they went back out there they could help someone feel like their situation was even a little less bleak.
When Kacchan first came back from his work study, he wasn't immune to the aftermath. No one questioned him when he didn't return Kirishima's greeting, and stalked over to the kitchen to silently make tea.
But Midoriya noticed.
His eyes were different. There was exhaustion, of course, the shadows under his eyes prominent as he closed them to take a sip.
But that steeled resolve, that sharp determination that reflected a carmine aura radiating enough confidence to fight God…
...it wasn't there. And it hadn't been there for weeks.
That much was alarming, but there was a very important detail Midoriya seemed to be missing. Was it possible that part of the mission failed? It’s not unusual for Kacchan to be hard on himself. It was definitely possible that he would blame himself for any shortcomings that occurred over the time he'd been there. But if that was the case, then why did he seem so defeated?
Midoriya could spend a good two hours trying to figure out why such an effect is taking place, but it would do nothing to help the fact that Kacchan was not coping well with this.
So what should he do? Call off their usual evening sparring session? Convince him to join the rest of the class on their outing? Either one would make Kacchan more suspicious than anything, so meeting up as usual would be best. Yeah, it would give him a sense of normalcy.
Kacchan hadn't used his quirk to train since he got back from his work study, and Midoriya was not inclined to try and change that, so he suggested that they work on hand-to-hand combat without quirks. Bakugou didn’t protest.
At first, the spar went okay. Kacchan’s movements were sluggish and less calculated, but because he was leagues above the rest of the class, it still made Midoriya work up a sweat. But eventually, it got to a point where it was clear that the spar wasn't helping either of them.
“I think we should stop.” Midoriya huffed, standing up from his fighting stance.
“I don’t need you of all people going easy on me,” Kacchan snapped. Or, he tried to snap. The remark seemed procedural, if anything.
“That’s exactly why we should stop. It’s clear you’re not in any state to spar for real right now.”
Midoriya shouldn’t keep talking. Kacchan's glare grew more genuine with every word.
“The whole class is worried about you.”
He really shouldn't keep talking.
“What happened at your work study? Did someone get hurt?”
He shouldn’t pry like this.
“Did someone... die?”
Kacchan flinched, and Midoriya knew he’d hit the nail on the head.
“Yeah, Deku,” he spat. “Someone died and I couldn’t save them. So that’s exactly why I have to keep training. I’m not gonna fail like that again, I can't—I can't fail like that again.”
“Kacchan,” Midoriya started—seriously, why couldn’t he stop talking?—“there are always gonna be people who you can’t save, who are out of your reach. Sir Nighteye-”
“Shut up! He was a hero, he knew the risks. But they were a civilian who wasn’t even supposed to be there,” Kacchan growled. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone like that, so stop pretending you can understand me! You’ll never understand how hard it is to lose your-”
The voice crack all but put everything into place.
Midoriya’s next words were gentle, cautious. “You loved them, didn’t you Kacchan?”
.
.
.
Well, Katsuki could use his quirk again. That much was evident as Deku was catapulted across the gym.
It figured that the most emotion he’d ever felt in weeks was expelled in the form of anger. He was angry at Deku, with his bullshit all-knowing eyes. He was always there, at every one of his low points.
He was angry at himself, for not being more stubborn. He was too slow, too reckless.
He held onto this anger. It was hot and direct and familiar. Without it, there was only grief; weakness.
Somewhere, the rational part of his brain reminded him that he couldn’t hold onto it forever.
Deku got up, the sorrowful expression still being directed at him. Katsuki doesn't even have the heart to try and blast it off again. He was feeling too much at the same time, but somehow he still felt like he was lacking. He was tired, and angry, and lost, and scared, and so, so cold.
Katsuki stormed off without another word, and Midoriya let him go.
~~~
{I was mistaken}
Katsuki wanted to feel warm on the inside again. Only they could make him warm on the inside. No amount of anger he mustered up could replace that.
But damn it, he would keep trying to.
Katsuki bursts into his room and slams the door. Picked apart by Deku, he's raw and exposed.
He's cold.
He takes frustrated, heavy breaths as he tries to ignore it.
Focus on the anger.
Katsuki tears his room apart. There's a burning handprint on his door now. Everything on his desk is blasted away by his fit of false rage. Posters are torn from the wall, bedding is ripped from his mattress and torn to shreds.
He stands in the middle of his room. He stares at all the destruction he's caused, but it does not make the pain go away. It doesn't distract him from everything.
The cold pierces him. He can feel it in his head and heart so much that he can barely decide which one to soothe with his burning hands.
It's cold. It pierces.
It's debilitating. Katsuki falls to his knees.
His head hurts.
His heart hurts.
He was so cold.
So cold.
So cold.
Haru would make him feel warm again. They always used to, like the Sun. Katsuki only knew how to make dangerous heat.
But it was the only heat he had, so with arms wrapped tight around him, and an anguished scream he...
…He felt warm again.
~~~
{So I hung}
(Sunshine?)
(Katsuki?)
(You're here. You're finally here.)
(My love, my sunflower... I'm so sorry.)
(No, it's okay now, you're here.)
(It's not okay. You're not supposed to be here.)
(I just want to be next to you. What place is more important than that?)
...
('Sunshine' couldn't answer.)
~~~
{My head}
When Midoriya walked into the classroom the next morning, Iida greeted him from his desk, diligent as usual. But Kacchan was nowhere to be seen. Their conversation yesterday probably took a toll on him, but Kacchan would still try to show up early, just to keep the facade up.
Aizawa came in, and there was still no sign of Kacchan.
Aizawa looked at the empty seat, but started teaching anyway without even asking where Kacchan was. Midoriya’s heart dropped.
If he asked to go check on Kacchan directly, there was no doubt that he would get rejected, so Midoriya raised his hand, asking to go to the bathroom instead. Once he was out of sight, he bolted.
Midoriya was surprised and relieved to find out that there were no alarms to trip on the way to the dorms—they would have been a bitch to deal with.
He burst through the front door to find the common room empty. As the adrenaline wore off, trepidation sunk in, threatening to outweigh his concern. If Kacchan really was feeling terrible, then Izuku was probably the last person Kacchan wanted to see.
But still, Izuku couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong, and he wanted to do all he could to help. The desire was almost a natural instinct, and it could very well be his greatest weakness, but he didn’t think about that as he rushed up the stairs.
The hallway was empty, and there were no signs that anyone noticed his presence, so he continued to Kacchan’s room and gave the door a couple taps.
“Kacchan?”
No answer, but that was expected. Izuku knocked a little louder this time.
“Kacchan, I know I’m the last person you wanna see right now, but I just needed to make sure you were okay. Tell me to fuck off, or knock back at least. Please?”
Still no answer. Izuku huffed. Guess he was doing this the hard way.
“Alright Kacchan, you asked for it.” he muttered, moreso to himself. The lock was no match for a few impacts from Izuku’s solid shoulder and 12 percent of One For All.
The door slammed open, and Izuku reeled back almost immediately, being hit with the smell of burning…everything. The room was completely scorched. Midoriya could make out the shape of an All Might figure lying burnt on the ground, probably knocked off the desk. It was the same charred black as the pencil case and its scattered contents.
The middle of the room looked like the hypocenter of the explosion. There was strange liquid, (and chunks of something, maybe his blanket?), as well as a few tufts of hair that looked like it had been stained a nasty red.
Red-stained hair. Strange liquid. Strange chunks. As the dots connected, the scene before him made more sense. And he identified the scent to be mostly burning flesh.
“K-Kacchan?”
Midoriya turned away and tried to cover his mouth and nose, but his breakfast was already on the way up.
~~~
{and cried}
Midoriya vomits in the hallway.
Kirishima, who secretly followed him, sees Izuku hunched over. Naturally, Kirishima grows concerned and rushes over to him.
Izuku, noticing Kirishima‘s presence, scrambles to close the door. Kirishima smells the burns anyway, and moves to open the door. Izuku pushes Kirishima away as best as he could, shaking his head.
He’s crying, begging Kirishima not to open the door.
Kirishima steps back. “Midoriya…is he...in there?”
A shaky nod.
"Is he...alive...in there?"
A shake of the head, punctuated with a sob.
Kirishima’s eyes fill with tears.
Aizawa, growing more concerned at the absence of Bakugou, Midoriya, and Kirishima, sends Iida to the dorms to report what the situation is.
Iida doesn't return because he's too shocked to even stand.
Aizawa arrives at the dorm, and class is canceled.