Chapter Text
Katsuki was returning to the dorms for the first time since leaving the hospital, and he’d officially made it his life’s mission to kick Deku’s ass.
Sure, he’d said that before, but he meant it this time.
First, the little fucker obliterated his fucking arms fighting Shigaraki, and then he landed himself in a coma. He would’ve fucking died had Katsuki not jumped in to save his ass… he was using blackwhip with his teeth by the end of the battle, for god’s sake…
Perhaps seeing Katsuki had gotten hurt following his example would knock some sense into the idiot...
He didn’t regret it, but his mother had doted on him for days after he was cleared to go home from the hospital… After calling him an idiot for getting injured. That wasn’t anything new...
Actually, it would've been deeply unsettling if she'd done his laundry, made his favorite foods, and tended to his injuries without berating him at least once. Katsuki had to get it from somewhere, right? Telling someone to fuck off while actively doing things to make their life easier was part of his brand...
As was refusing help.
He loved his mother dearly, but he saw too much of himself in her sometimes. Being around her for an extended period chipped away at his threshold for bullshittery; no one really enjoys looking in a mirror for that long...
He winced, shoulder aching as he walked the path to Heights Alliance, but he ignored it. It was his punching arm! Getting his point across was far more important than avoiding a little pain!
Maybe he also had some self-sacrificial tendencies…
No, that’s different.
Deku does this shit on the regular. I got impaled on his behalf because it was necessary. I should get a free pass to punch before I’m healed!
It was the flimsiest justification he's ever used for anything, but he refused to acknowledge that.
Reaching the doors, he cracked his neck and stretched his arms, bracing himself before entering.
Alright, show time…
He was already shouting the second the door closed behind him.
“Deku you Bastard! I swear to fucking god if you do this shit one more time, I’ll kill your ass! I’m serious! You land yourself in the hospital one more time and your ass is grass! I cannot fucking believe—.”
His band of idiots was in tears in the middle of the common room. Kirishima and Mina were being comforted by an unnaturally stoic Kaminari, and Sero’s typically relaxed demeanor had taken on an air of anxiety.
What the fuck…
Taking a second to further evaluate the room, he found the rest of the class looking much the same, Deku’s nerd squad looking particularly upset. Koda had even brought his bunny down from his room, which was his way of supporting his classmates when they felt overwhelmed.
And look, Katsuki might be a little socially inept, but even he knew when to quit, so he put a pause on his verbal assault.
His eyes landed on Uraraka, identifying the source of everyone’s distress. Several classmates had gathered around her and were peering over her shoulder; he joined them. She was clutching a letter in her hands, doing her best to keep her tears from staining it as they fell.
“Uraraka,Thank you for everything.
I felt that I had to reveal my secret to everyone in Class A,
So I’m leaving these letters for you guys.
My unique power was passed down to me by All Might—”
Katsuki stopped reading, on the verge of a conniption, as he clenched his fists at his sides in an effort not to explode. He took several steps back, mind flooded with questions.
So... He's telling everyone about One for All?
Why didn't he tell me he was going to?
Why write it in a fucking letter?
If you’re going to reveal a threat to national security, at least tell everyone in person…
— His thoughts screeched to a halt, noticing the absence of a particular presence in the room.
“Where the hell is Deku?!”
Mina was the first to react, barreling into him, knocking the wind out of his chest. Not that it was very hard, considering the anxiety now making itself known there and in the pit of his stomach.
“Oh, Kats…” she whispered, a slight hiccup in her voice.
He winced at the unexpected contact, but allowed her to sob into his shoulder for a few seconds before pushing her off because he was a good friend. Jirou gave him a pitying look before gesturing to Tokoyami, who had approached while Katsuki was being smothered by the pink-haired girl.
“We all found these in our rooms this morning,” Tokoyami explained as Dark Shadow handed over the boy’s letter.
He snatched it from the shadowy hands with more aggression than necessary. It was the same letter, the only difference being Tokoyami’s name scribbled in the top left corner.
That stupid mother fucker…
His face settled into a scowl, his palms sparking involuntarily.
Katsuki tried not to blow it up. He swears. But his hands were sweaty, he was anxious as hell, and he’d surpassed his capacity to contain his rage. Sue him.
He felt guilty, though, as he watched its remnants fall to the floor.
“Bakugou!” Iida scolded, chopping at the air.
Katsuki ignored him, raging and frantic as he left the common room, scrambling up the stairs. He just about ripped his door from its hinges as he barreled into the room, where he found a white envelope on the floor.
The scribbled “Kacchan” on the back made it clear who left it there.
Cursing, he wiped the sweat from his palms onto his pants before picking up the envelope with trembling hands. A singular piece of paper fell out as he opened it, looking as if it had been hastily torn from a notebook.
Yep. Definitely Deku
Placing the envelope on his desk, he took a deep breath and read the letter.
“Kacchan,I remember when we were little, sharing secrets.
You may not have been the kindest to me until now,It’s thanks to you I have the strength to do what I need to do from here.
Thank you for saving me, Kacchan.
If we could fight together again —
— It’s all here. I trust you know what to do with it.”
His chest heaved with effort as he tried to remember how to fucking breathe.
I’m going to fucking kill him; I swear to fucking god—.
He blinked.
The letter was torn to shreds, and he’d fallen to his knees on the floor. Somehow, he’d had enough self-control not to explode this one, which he’d be proud of himself for if he wasn’t so upset.
As it stands though, not exploding left him with excess rage, which he channeled into violently shoving the letter into the trash can underneath his desk, a new expletive directed at the green-haired boy with every individual piece.
Stupid shitty Deku
With his shitty savior complex
Dumbass
Stop looking down on us
Stop looking down on me
If you die, I’ll fucking kill you…
He was still seething as he threw the last piece into the trash can, but his breathing had become less labored since his initial shock.
Several minutes passed, but he didn’t move from his spot. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself right now. As of late, most of his free time was either spent being angry or hanging out with Izuku, and those things often overlapped.
Izuku??? Where did that come from?
When did I start to think of him that way?
He missed him, he realized. That must be why.
It felt weird to admit that to himself, but it would explain the sudden slip. He suddenly regretted throwing the letter away so violently… Guilty, he picked the pieces out of the trash can, placing them in a pile on the desk. A singular tear dropped from his cheek, staining the ink on a piece below.
— It’s all here. I trust you know…
His eyes widened, and he rubbed at them with his hands before taking a second look at the envelope. There was a green, curly strand of hair taped to the inside so it wouldn’t fall out by accident. Its stare was haunting, almost mocking, as it looked back at him.
Fuck you, he thought.
The hair had no response.
He resealed the envelope and sent a middle finger in its direction, anyway, because it made him feel better.
Well, maybe better wasn’t the right word… Sure, his breathing had slowed a bit, and his muscles lost their tension, but he wouldn’t say he felt better now that the all-consuming rage was gone; not this time…
Perhaps different was the word he was looking for?
Katsuki wasn’t sure.
Emotions were complicated, and he often felt incapable of understanding them. Rage was a comfort to him. It might be uncomfortable for those around him, but once he responded to its demands, it dissipated, the feeling of impending doom washing away with it.
It had a direction.
They say that anger only lasts 90 seconds... Katsuki wasn’t entirely convinced that was true; he’d been angry his entire life. The concept wasn’t very hard to grasp, but it was hard to believe, given his experiences.
The thing is… He’s tried to control it, to wait it out and just breathe through those 90 seconds, but each second lasted for years. Anger built up underneath his skin until it felt too tight. It would build a nest in his bones and claw up his throat, and he’d feel like he was going to die before he made it to 90 seconds… so he would explode.
No one ever gave him any new advice, but some people sure thought they had something profound, offering their solutions unsolicited. Sometimes, he would try the shit they spewed, just to see if it would help. It’s not like he enjoyed anger, he just understood it. It was safe, but that didn’t mean he was unwilling to change! He was going to be the fucking best!
… Each time, it only resulted in worse explosions with more fall out.
So, he stopped listening to them, and learned to stay within earshot of the phone, prepared to answer it the second his anger called. If he responded at the first ring, he could minimize the consequences of the impending rampage.
A therapist would have a field day if he ever walked into their office…
Maybe they’d be able to give him good advice, maybe they’d spew the same shit he’s always heard, but for now, Katsuki was doing just fine.
Or… he was doing just fine until Deku fucked up his brain chemistry by leaving. This new feeling he was experiencing… he wasn’t a fan.
He felt bad, but he couldn’t explode it away. There were no missed calls with messages after the beep telling him to go blow something up.
This feeling, in the aftermath of his anger, was radio silence. Most would say emptiness, regret… Katsuki thought that rang true, but more accurately, he would describe the experience as a numbing gel for a toothache or a canker sore.
Like his anger, it was a temporary solution to manage a specific pain, but it stung as it faded away, and it tasted bad when it touched his tongue. It was hard for him to speak or feel anything, left to sit with the remnants of emotion that sparked his initial outburst.
He hated it.
Finding himself unable to face his classmates again just yet, he flopped onto his back and sighed, dragging his hands down his face. Arms spread out at his sides and staring at the ceiling, he allowed himself to sink into the feeling.
This is all my fucking fault. I knew about the nerd’s stupid savior complex; it’s the whole reason I jumped in to save his ass. Should’ve fucking known he’d pull this shit…
Yes, part of him knew he couldn’t really blame himself, but looking back, there were some glaring signs he’d missed.
For one, Deku’s One for All training had created distance between him and the rest of the class. He was developing skills and manifesting powers at an insane rate, and he’d overheard the extras voicing their feelings on the subject on multiple occasions.
---
Bakugou wasn’t responsible for helping Deku train today, but he stuck around regardless. It was just a part of his routine, and his routines were very important to him. That’s it.
Tsu told him it was strange; he told her to fuck off.
He tried hard not to show it, but One for All training was one of his favorite activities.
Not only was it his perfect chance to atone for being an utter jackass, but it was something only the two of them shared.
It felt weird to bring others into it. Katsuki liked to feel important, and involving the extras made him feel less important, even if he was still the only one who knew what they were actually training for, aside from All Might.
The training had become more focused on Floaty’s expertise, and since Sero and Tsu were told they could leave when they finished, he thought it would look weird if he stuck around even longer. He still wanted to talk to Deku afterward, though, because it was routine, so he blasted up to the roof and watched the stars as he waited.
Not long after his exit, Tsu and Sero walked outside, staying in the area to wait for Ochako, as per usual. They spent most of their time walking in circles, jumping on things, and just generally fucking around.
That was something they did often...
How they always had leftover energy after training, Katsuki had no clue. Ever since that friend group came together, defying all logic became their favorite pastime.
“Since when could Midoriya float!?” Tsu asked from the tree branch, arms hanging by her ears and stretching toward the ground, holding onto the tree with her legs.
Sero was walking around nearby, kicking a rock around on the sidewalk while attempting to stay close enough to converse with her.
“Well, from what I understand, he can't? Training with Zero Gravity is just supposed to be generally helpful?” He responded with a nervous laugh.
"hm..."
"And did you see that new move he did with blackwhip!? The one I taught him!? Insane,” he added, kicking the rock and picking at the tape on his elbows as he walked to where it landed.
"yep."
"I've had tape dispensers on my elbows from birth, and I didn't learn how to do that until last month!"
Tsu had no response that time. At her silence, Sero turned to see if she was still listening.
She, objectively, was not. Having decided it was too boring to just hang there, she'd started attempting to braid a strand of her hair, tongue poking out of her mouth and arms tangling as she tried to find the best method... She was unsuccessful.
She still hadn't noticed him looking, and Sero chose the most effective way of garnering her attention.
“So yeah! Kami said last night he wanted to try and ask 'chako out again! He wanted to ask me if there was any reason he shouldn't... if either of us happened to have a crush on her, and I said 'Nope! Go right ahead!’
“She's completely and totally available and there's definitely no one with a frog quirk who waxes poetic about the girl 24/7 to her super cool friend with the tape elbows but won't ask her out, so you should just—.”
Tsu fell out of the tree, the braid she was working on slipping from her fingers, glare holding enough heat to rival 1,000 suns.
Katsuki probably wasn't meant to overhear that, but it wouldn't be the first time he'd intruded on a sensitive conversation... Damn Deku and Half and Half talking in the middle of the goddamn hallway...
"That was a low blow and you know it."
Damn right, Katsuki thought.
Sero merely laughed before continuing. “I mean, no wonder his quirk took that long to come in…” he mused, kicking the rock back in the other direction. “He would’ve turned his bones to soup at 5 years old using 1% power…”
“Yet he’s learning to use it so fast, Ribbit.” She replied, listening now, but sitting and pouting on the grass. She attempted the braid again, much more successful now that she was upright.
“Seriously, how does he do it?”—kick. “He came to UA with no prior quirk training,”—kick “and now he’s a Spider-Man/Karate Kid love child,”—kick “who kicks my ass in training every Tuesday? What—”
He missed the rock that time. Feet slipping, he sent a desperate string of tape towards a nearby light post. Miraculously, he kept himself from falling face-first into the ground.
However, he was still doing his best impersonation of a hypotenuse, body unbalanced and slanted to one side, hanging by the tape he’d wrapped around the pole.
“That's what you get, bitch!”
Sero couldn't really argue with that.
Tsu snorted as she helped her friend regain his balance, pulling him up by his tape until he could stand on his own.
“See, if that happened to Midoriya, he would’ve just done a backflip. Hell, he would’ve stuck the landing too!”
They both chuckled.
Their antics continued for a bit longer before Ochako emerged from the building, shoulders slumped from exhaustion. She approached the two, lightly bonking her head onto Tsu’s shoulder with a groan.
“Mido kicked my ass again today.”
Sero gave her a reassuring pat on the head.
“Yeah, us too… Us too.”
After a few seconds, she lifted her head from Tsu’s shoulder.
“Deku sure is advancing fast…”
Sero let out a nervous laugh.
“It kinda makes me feel like I’m falling behind.”
“Agreed,” Tsu replied as the group walked out of Katsuki’s earshot.
---
He frowned at the memory.
It was obvious the attitude shift had bothered the nerd, so Katsuki had taken to spending more and more of his free time helping him train. After he learned just how long Deku had been looking up to him, he thought it would provide the nerd with some normalcy as he grappled with his ever-growing responsibilities.
Katsuki had thought it was working. While the growing closeness between them was new, they were still unequivocally them.
Deku laughed now when Katsuki sent a half-hearted explosion to his face, and they bantered back and forth. When an insult was thrown his way, Deku could give as good as he got. Things were good.
But now, it's more obvious his attitude had shifted. He'd been spacey and weird as hell, and the way Deku had talked about his most recent training milestones was... strange.
---
“Did you see that, Kacchan?” Deku exclaimed after he’d spent the entirety of their training dodging explosions.
Katsuki couldn’t get a single hit in against the boy for hours…
“It’s almost like I don’t even need your help anymore,” he teased.
“Oi!” Katsuki shouted as he sent a playful punch toward Deku’s stomach.
Deku let out a quiet, “Oomf,” while Katsuki laughed and proceeded to starfish on the floor, pulling his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his face.
“Don’t start thinking you’re better than me just because you won today.”
Deku laughed, joining Katsuki on the floor and draping his arms loosely over his pulled-up knees. “I would never, Kacchan.”
He reached for his water and brought the bottle up to his lips before he paused, his expression softening into something more sincere, yet distant, as he spoke into the space in front of him.
“It’s just… nice to know that people can rely on me to take care of things on my own without breaking any bones…”
He paused, eyes growing uncertain, still looking pointedly away from Katsuki, before he continued.
“It’s nice to know that I’m not… holding anyone back,” he finished with a sigh.
He turned to Katsuki as if intending to say something else, but he stilled, blinking rapidly as he looked at the other boy. He sat there buffering for a bit, eyes fixed on something in Katsuki’s direction before he remembered himself, a flush growing on his cheeks as he finally took a sip of his water.
The reaction had Katsuki raising an eyebrow and chuckling to himself, but there was something else underneath it all…
Guilt? Regret? Fortitude?
Katsuki couldn’t quite place it, but he knew it didn’t belong on the nerd’s face. Rather than investigating it any further, he elected to catalog the information for later in favor of giving Deku a hard time.
He sat himself up on his forearms, shirt falling back down to cover his stomach, and looked at the other boy with a smirk.
“You broke your elbow last Thursday fighting Mineta in All Might’s class, Deku… Mineta…”
“Kacchan! That’s not fair! Those balls are sticky, and elbows are fragile!”
Katsuki raised his arm, forming a puppet with his hand to mock the other boy. “Sticky balls, fragile elbows meh meh meh.”
“I’m serious, Kacchan!” he whined.
“I know I break a lot of bones, but elbows are like… the easiest bone to break! Don’t you remember how Tomo-chan broke his elbow when we were in elementary school? The monkey bars, Kacchan. He fell off the monkey bars. That’s only a distance of like, what… 5 ft? 152 cm? —”
Katsuki chuckled as he lay down once more, bringing his arms up behind his head and closing his eyes to listen to the boy ramble.
“We’re teenagers now, so we weigh more, which means more force when we fall down! You’re 5’8, right? 172 cm?
“That means if you stood up right now and fell on your elbow just the right way… boom—Instant bone break. That’s all it would take! So, this shouldn’t even count against me!”
Katsuki blinked open his eyes, looking up at the other boy with a soft smile.
“Whatever you say, Deku… Whatever you say.”
---
Even when he held the weight of the world on his shoulders, Deku was still Deku...
Only that idiot could go on a twenty-minute rant about the fragility of elbows…
… Who even thinks that much about elbows?
Well… Deku, apparently. Fuckin’ nerd…
It could have been delirium from the day’s events, or he was just generally going insane, but he couldn’t stop cracking up at the thought, laughing until he was wheezing, crying, and rolling around on the floor.
If shitty hair could hear him through the wall, he would probably assume he was dying, but Katsuki didn’t care. He was proud of himself for finding some joy in his memories while his current life was falling apart.
Take that, Mom! Take that, Deku! I do have healthy coping mechanisms!
At the thought of the boy, Katsuki craned his neck up to skim the collection of photos above his desk, looking for the one he’d kept from their childhood. He finds it right in the middle, hanging next to a recent photo of him and his self-proclaimed squad. It looked older in comparison, the colors duller than any other picture on the wall.
He and Deku were standing at a storefront, the All Might cards they’d both won clutched in their hands. Deku was holding his close to his chest, smiling wide with tears pooling at the corners of his eyes in classic Deku fashion. Katsuki was jumping into the air, holding the card above his head as he shouted in victory.
The picture was just so… them… It never failed to warm Katsuki’s heart.
I wonder if you’re smiling out there now, Deku…
As much as that fucking letter made him seethe, it was nice to hold evidence of his importance to Deku in his hands. Deku was always telling him how great he was, but he’d only just learned of the sincerity behind each declaration.
It was still hard for Katsuki to believe in that sincerity sometimes, in their closeness, but he’d gotten a personalized letter. Even Deku’s nerd squad had gotten the same thing as everyone else.
Sure, it was probably because he knew about OFA already, but that wouldn't stop him from feeling superior about it. Deku cared about him. He still didn’t understand why. The nerd was practically made up of sunshine and rainbows and all things good, while he was the personification of what it felt like to step on a Lego. Katsuki had been unbelievably shitty to him for reasons he couldn’t quite pinpoint…
No, that wasn’t right. Truthfully, he had a few theories about why he’s always been so hung up on the nerd, but he’s been unable (unwilling?) to investigate them.
He didn’t deserve to.
As he looked away from the photo, he caught another glimpse of the envelope resting on his desk... And the numbness was back, accompanied by an extra tinge of sadness, this time. The room was eerily silent as he wept; he only cried loudly when he was angry…
Well... he only ever cried when he was angry. He would rage and berate and belittle as he sobbed, his eyes red and puffy and nose snotty, but once the feelings were out, he was done. This was new for him. The warmth he’d felt for those few minutes faded from his chest, leaving a somber cold behind.
Deku was prepared to destroy himself in the last fight, and he’s ready to do it again now.
With a sigh, Katsuki picked himself up from the floor, but only to wallow in the comfort of his bed. He begrudgingly pulled a weighted blanket out from underneath, an initially unwanted gift from the old hag. She’d gotten it for him to “help with his anxiety,” which he’d vehemently refused to acknowledge as a problem. They’d yelled at each other a lot that night. She was right, of course, but he’d never admit it out loud.
Ultimately, he’d taken the blanket with him to UA at his mother’s insistence, electing to shove it underneath his bed to be ignored forever, until recently, that is.
Secretly, Katsuki was grateful for it. He’d found out pretty quickly how effective it was at calming him down, but he’d been so adamant in his refusal that it would be too embarrassing to admit his gratitude at this point.
Maybe I should thank her now, he thought as he flopped onto the mattress, wrangling the blanket over his body until it was spread evenly across. The weight on his chest was grounding, a firm pressure rather than the sudden weight in his lungs that accompanied his anxiety. It was effective at calming his body and his tears, but it could only do so much to calm his ever-persistent, racing thoughts.
This is all my fault… Maybe if I wasn’t so fucking emotionally stunted I could’ve —
No. Deku had plenty of nerd friends who were much better at feelings than Katsuki was. They could’ve talked to him.
But I’m his Best Friend.
Doing feelings management for your friend is part of the fucking job description, is it not?
And what a stand-up job you’ve been doing at that…
You still haven’t fucking apologized for the shit you put him through.
Of course he wouldn't open up to you about this.
Argumentative to a fault, he humored the slightly more self-deprecating Katsuki in his head.
And what could I have possibly done?
Deku’s always been stubborn as hell.
Even if I’d spoken up, he would’ve done the damn thing, regardless…
But do you really believe that?
Haven’t you noticed that he’d do anything for you?
That you’d do the same for him?
What does that mean?
He didn’t have a response to that, but it ended up throwing him off enough to keep his thoughts from spiraling.
Huffing, he pulled the blanket tighter over himself, choosing to stare at the wall for an indeterminate amount of time.
Eventually, he fell asleep.
It had grown dark outside by the time he woke up, leaving him unaware of how much time he’d spent wrapped up in his cocoon.
After taking a minute to come back to himself, he unwrapped the blanket from around his body and rolled off his bed, vowing to stop sulking for at least long enough to get dinner. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he opened the door and walked down the hallway. Hopefully, no one would be able to tell he’d been crying…
As much as he hated to admit it, he knew he had to be there for his stupid classmates. He was aware his personality did a terrible job of showing it, but he’s always been level-headed in the face of crisis, and he would continue to take up that mantle outside the quiet of his dorm room. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, allow anyone to see his weakness.
As he stumbled down the stairs and entered the common room, he heard the muffled sounds of his classmates talking, and shaped his face into its signature scowl.
If the practiced furrow in his brow or the tightness in his jaw did a piss-poor job of hiding his inner turmoil, no one commented on it. They looked up at him in acknowledgment, but they all knew better than to push him into any further interaction.
That’s one thing he could appreciate about the extras, at least. They’ve been through so much together as a class, and it’s lent itself to a deeper understanding of each other.
For all his gruffness, his incessant barking rarely led to biting, yet his class knew him well enough, respected him enough not to point it out. They simply let him yap harmlessly at their heels until he’d gotten all the words out.
It was nearing 7:30 by now, but Katsuki still planned to cook dinner for everyone. It was his unspoken role in their communal living situation and his way of coping. His classmates knew that, and had just been waiting for him to come down to the kitchen, unwilling to disturb him in his sanctum… Even if they were already hungry…
So, with little more than a nod in Momo’s direction, he followed the path to the kitchen, already brainstorming what to cook for this evening’s meal.
The decision was made for him as he opened the cabinets, finding them… sparse.
The class reps must have been so distracted by Deku’s disappearance they forgot to assign a group to buy the week’s groceries. That would make his job more difficult, sure... but Katsuki was no quitter, so he was determined to make it work.
He started setting out ingredients to make a simple Japanese curry. They didn’t have any meat, so he planned to just use any vegetables he could find stashed in the fridge.
It shouldn’t be too hard… Though he’d have to be careful not to make it too spicy…
As much as he wanted to burn out his emotions through his taste buds, he cared (cared!) too much about his classmates to force them to do the same…
At some point, Sato joined him in the kitchen.
Most of his classmates would steer clear while he cooked… aside from Deku, who was occasionally sent in to speak on behalf of the extras, now immune to Katsuki’s wrath.
Sato has somehow never bothered him, though, just provided quiet company as he worked. It was a subtle acknowledgment of their shared coping mechanism. He tended to his curry, Sato baked, and the kitchen soon filled with little more than the sounds of sizzling butter and the occasional whirr of the stand mixer.
Soon, the curry roux was done, the vegetables were cooking, and Katsuki was feeling pretty confident, humming lightly as he pushed them around the pan.
Sure, he might have been fully crying on his floor earlier, but that was clearly just a fluke! He was the fucking shit, and he knew it! He’d still managed to pull together a Kick-Ass meal after walking into an empty kitchen, aside from some vegetables, spices, baking ingredients, and a less-than-half empty 50 lb. bag of rice—
“Shit! I forgot to put some rice in the cooker,” he cursed under his breath.
How the hell are we supposed to eat curry without any fucking rice?
It was less spicy than he would normally make it, but some of the extras were still babies who wouldn’t be able to tolerate it without rice to balance it out. He knew that, thought about it every damn time he cooked for them… How could he just forget?
He could just start it now. It would be fine…
It’s fine it’s fine it’s fine, totally and completely fine… It’s fine.
… But now the curry would be ready way before the rice, and everyone would have to wait, and it would be completely his fault and—
Logically, he knew it wasn’t a big deal. Pushing mealtime back by 15-20 minutes wasn’t the end of the world! Still, his breathing grew shaky, and he clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together subconsciously. He wasn’t even remotely focused on the curry vegetables anymore, clenching the spatula in his fist as that all too familiar weight dropped from his throat down to his core.
(*)
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Can’t you do anything fucking right?
Who gives a fuck if Deku isn’t here? Don’t make excuses for yourself…
It’s always your job to feed the fucking extras and you’re not even keeping it together enough to notice you didn’t put any rice in the goddamn rice cooker?
Useless…
You’re terrible at this, at everything.
Everything you do is bad…
Everything you do is bad.
Why are you panicking about rice, you dumb fucking idiot? Everything you do is bad.
That’s why you’re the one who ended All Might, why Deku left you behind…
You’re a terrible person.
Are you even capable of being better, or are you just gonna suck for the rest of your life until you fucking die?
Stop fucking panicking about rice.
You’re a terrible person. Everything you do is awful.
Again, with the fucking rice, this is pathetic
STOP
Why do you suck at being alive?
I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I —
(*)
“Bakugou-San?”
The concern laced in Sato’s voice pulled him out of his spiral, brain coming back online like a buffering YouTube video as he regained awareness of his surroundings.
He was leaning over the counter on his elbows, apparently having had enough awareness to step away from the stove before things got too bad. Both of his palms were digging into his temples, and one hand was raked through his hair, fingers pulling tight at the roots. He was still holding the spatula in his other hand, but he’d somehow avoided getting any food in his hair.
When the smell of burning plastic registered, he was so convinced that he’d fucked everything up yet again until he pulled his hands away from his face. They were burning hot and sparking sporadically. The plastic handle of the spatula was singed and deformed, but still functional.… Did I really just melt the fucking spatula?
“Baku—,”
“I’m fine,” he snapped with a poorly hidden crack in his voice, nearly throwing the spatula across the room as he emphasized the point with shaking hands.
Sato’s eyes widened, and his expression became more and more concerned as several seconds of silence passed. He looked guilty now, eyes looking anywhere but the melted spoon. Katsuki’s face fell at the sight.
No matter how hard I try to change, I’m always going to be a jackass, aren’t I?
“Th-The rice,” he stuttered. “I forgot to start the rice.”
Sato’s face relaxed at that. It’s obvious he was trying to keep any pity he felt for the other boy out of his expression, which Katsuki was more grateful for than he could express.
“Don’t worry about it Bakugou-San. I can watch your curry while you start the rice,” he said, sincerity written in his tone.
“My chiffon cake won’t finish cooking for a while.”
Now, Bakugou felt even more guilty, but he couldn’t help but appreciate the extras for putting up with his bullshit. He’d still never stop calling them extras, but he’s admitted to himself that it’s a term of endearment, and they knew it too. Hell… They knew him better than he knew himself at this point. Sato knew Katsuki needed to fix his mistake himself and offered help in a way he would accept.
Maybe I should stop calling him Dollar Store Fat Gum… “Okay… Yeah, Okay. Just don’t fuck it up,” he said as he walked to the cabinet to grab the large bag of rice. The process seemed simple. All he had to do was measure the rice, rinse it, put it in the cooker with the correct amount of water, and start the machine.
And it was simple… until you thought about how much fucking rice it took to feed twenty hero students…
The UA dorms had some of the biggest rice cookers Katsuki had ever seen. He always had to try so hard to remind himself he cared about his classmates when he made rice as part of their dinner... Which was most of the time.
He measured out and rinsed fifteen cups of rice. That was usually enough; it would be for tonight, but he sometimes had to make twenty cups if their training was grueling that day… He sighed in relief as he dumped the last of the water in the cooker with the rice and pressed the button.
Now finished with the task, he washed his hands and returned to his curry. As promised, it was like the state he’d left it in, but the vegetables had grown softer, and the smell of his spice mixture was more fragrant as the flavors had sunk in.
“You didn’t fuck it up,” Katsuki said, voice devoid of any emotion, but choosing to omit the boy’s usual, mildly offensive nickname. It was the closest Sato was going to get to a thank you, and he knew it.
“Any time, Bakugou,” he nodded, intending to return to his own project, before Katsuki gripped his arm to stop him. Sato turned around, looking more confused than ever.
“Is my face burnt?” Katsuki mumbled.
Sato still looked absolutely bewildered, mouth open like a fish with the world's biggest lips. Katsuki didn't want to make another scene, so he took a breath before responding.
“When I had that... moment earlier, my hands, one of which melted a fucking spatula, were near my face. Did I fucking burn my face or not?!”
Sato gave him a sympathetic smile, but Katsuki was willing to let it go this time.
“A little,” he admitted, “But not badly. It just looks like a sunburn.”
“Tch.”
It wasn’t ideal, but he could live with that.
At that, Sato returned to his side of the kitchen, checking on his cake in the oven. They were quite practiced at working around each other, and soon, Katsuki was calling his classmates into the kitchen as Sato dusted the powdered sugar onto his chiffon cake.
“Dinner’s ready, extras! Leave enough for leftovers, and if you complain about the spice, I’ll kill you!”
Everyone was completely unphased by the threat, and he wondered if he’d lost a bit of his touch. He supposed that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world...
“You’ve got it, Bakubro.”
“Thanks, Kats!”
“Kacchan Sugoi!”
“Itadakimasu!”
---
Dinner had been quieter than usual, but that wasn’t surprising, given the circumstances. For someone so unaccustomed to socializing and having friends, Deku had become the glue of Class 1-A, and it showed. Without Izuku to hold them together, most of the class returned their dishes to the sink shortly after finishing, leaving the common room one by one.
The only person obligated to stay was the designated dishwasher. They had a rotating schedule, which Katsuki wasn’t on, since he did most of the cooking. When certain people were scheduled, though, he stayed behind anyway. It was Half and Half’s turn tonight, and the idiot was incapable of doing it right without help.
Dinner was late tonight, so he should go back to his room, but Katsuki didn’t care if it set back his strictly enforced nighttime routine. He would not tolerate poorly cleaned dishes in his kitchen.
A smaller part of him knew it was actually an excuse not to go back to his room, to not be alone again until it was absolutely necessary.
It was strange. He’d always thought of himself as an introverted guy, but he knew he didn’t want or need to be alone right now.
He’d learned a lot about himself today, and he didn’t know how to feel about it.
“Bakugou, are you alright?”
He blinked and saw Icy Hot holding a dirty pan in one hand and a towel in the other. His stare would've been entirely blank if it weren’t for the slight question in his eyes.
“Hah?”
“I asked if you wanted to wash or dry, and you didn’t respond… Normally, you would have already shoved me away from the sink because I ‘don’t do it right’.”
“You don’t!” Katsuki retorted while yanking the pan from Shoto’s hands.
He turned on the sink with as much vitriol as possible… which wasn’t a lot. The act of turning on a sink didn’t exactly lend itself to hostility.
“I wash, you dry, got it?”
Katsuki had already started scrubbing a little too hard at one of the dirty pans, but Shoto nodded in agreement, nonetheless.
They got through most of the dishes in silence, and it was actually kinda nice... until Todoroki spoke up again.
“I just wish you would tell me what’s bothering you…”
Katsuki blinked.
Is the bastard really that dumb?
He took a deep breath and let it out, handing over the dish he’d just finished cleaning before he responded.
“Halfie… have you been paying attention to a single thing that’s happened today? Could it not be the same thing that’s bothering everyone else?”
Shoto dried two more dishes.
“I didn’t think you would admit it that easily,” he frowned.
The idiot was thinking so hard it looked like it hurt. Katsuki paused on his current dish and dried his hands with a sigh.
“Look, Halfie… I don’t know… cannot even come close to comprehending what your ping-pong-ball-of-a-brain is thinking or trying to accomplish.” —
“Hey! You don’t always have to insult,” —
“But… If you’re trying to get me to talk about my feelings, you’re doing a horrendous job at it. We don’t do that shit. When have we ever done that shit?”
Shoto’s brows wrinkled slightly. He looked confused. Katsuki tried his darndest not to punch him.
He didn’t actually dislike the guy… much. He was just incredibly hard to read. Katsuki wasn’t good at that, so it was exhausting if he had to do it for long.
In true Shoto fashion, he spent a few more seconds looking constipated before he could voice his response.
“But… aren’t we friends? You yelled at me one time because I didn’t do anything while Midoriya was crying, and—.”
“Hah? That was different! He—.”
“Oh? And what were your exact words?” Shoto smirked.
This mother fucking fuck…
“I think you told me that ‘Doing feelings management for your friend is part of the fucking job description’.”
Katsuki scoffed. “We are NOT friends, halfie!”
Shoto looked unfazed, which pissed him off, but only mildly.
“Fuyumi gave me that Mapu Tofu recipe to give to you yesterday. She says you should come to eat dinner again sometime.”
Katsuki groaned.
---
They’d finished the dishes quickly after that, and now Katsuki was alone in his room again, lying on the floor.
This time, though, he didn’t feel the crushing emptiness from before.
He was lighter, warmer.
There was more room in his lungs, less pressure in his chest.
It was unclear how long he’d be able to keep that feeling away, but spending time with his classmates had helped.
Maybe it was the nap beforehand, or maybe it was the company of others, but his public panic attack (he still wasn’t thrilled anyone saw that) had eased much more quickly than usual.
He’d shown some weakness today, left a few holes open in the wall, and he didn’t die.
Sato, who he rarely spoke to, showed genuine concern for him, helped him when he fucked up, when he could’ve just laughed in his face…
Not that he or anyone would do that, but anxiety didn’t care about rationality.
Hell… even Icy Hot, who Katsuki was constantly pushing away, tried to make him feel better. The bastard was terrible at it, but it still worked.
“Maybe Deku was onto something with this having friends shit,” he muttered to himself. He’d have to think about it. Objectively, opening up to Izuku had been good for him. He could probably do it again with a few of the extras if he wanted to…
But is it really worth it to let people get so close?
Deku was one of the few people he allowed himself to be vulnerable around.
—Not that he’d had a choice… the nerd just brought it out of him. If Katsuki didn’t know about One for All, he’d swear the idiot had another quirk that forced people to talk about their feelings. At Ground Beta, Katsuki had only been trying to fight the fucker to see why he was so much better than him, but by the end, Katsuki had cried while practically baring his soul to the boy…
And then he just wouldn’t leave. He forced his way into Katsuki’s life against his will.
It was the best thing that’s ever happened to him…
Deku became his best friend.
He never thought he’d have one of those, truthfully. He was angry, cold, overbearing, and too much for most people. They rarely understood him, and most of them didn’t even try, but Deku didn’t have to. He’d figured him out long before Katsuki properly let him into his life.
… and then he’d just left him behind.
The sheer panic he’d felt when he learned of his absence, breaking down in his room to the point of exhaustion, crying… If having friends felt like that when they left, Katsuki didn’t think it was worth it. Maybe he was wrong. Either way, Deku had already weaseled his way into Katsuki’s life, so he was going to drag the nerd’s ass back here if it killed him…
God… that fucker better be keeping himself alive out there…
Deku had never been all that good at taking care of himself, but this was a new level of self-sacrifice. Katsuki’s letter didn’t say what he was doing out there, and he didn’t even attempt to read Uraraka’s letter to completion.
In short, he knew almost nothing aside from the fact that:
- Deku was leaving to “protect” everyone.
- He actually believed there was a chance he’d die.
- He was a fucking dumbass.
He’d given no indication where he would eat, sleep, if he had help, what he was even doing in the fucking first place…
Katsuki made a mental note to check in on Inko Midoriya to see how she was coping with her son’s dumbassery… Auntie didn’t deserve this shit…
He needed to go to sleep now.
His panic attack in the kitchen had negated the nap he’d taken earlier in the day, so he was physically and emotionally exhausted.
But he couldn’t stop thinking about the green-eyed idiot… if he would be safe…
He knew it was irrational, but he couldn’t help but hope Deku would simply come back to him. Maybe he’d realize how stupid he was being, and he’d just… show up at Katsuki’s window with a quiet knock, like he used to when they were kids.
His mother made fun of him for it as he grew older, but when he was a child, Katsuki wanted to hang out with Izuku 24/7. The two would play all day long, but they never grew tired of each other. They would jump and shout and pretend to be heroes until they were about to keel over from exhaustion before they were willing to leave the park.
As one of their mothers walked them home, their hands found each other every time, without fail. Linked arms swung back and forth as they jumped over puddles and avoided cracks in the sidewalk.
It was cute as shit.
Even as they yawned while watching their All Might cartoons, snuggled in blankets under the couch, Katsuki would perk up when his mother entered the room, demanding that his friend stayed the night.
“We have to finish this! All Might is about to fight the robot villain! Zuku is staying the night!” Katsuki would assert, his chin held high, hands in fists planted firmly on his hips.
“Izu-kun has to go live at his own house sometimes, kid,” his mother would reply with a laugh.
And then Katsuki would pout, and it was the pout of the centuries. His cheeks puffed out, his eyebrows wrinkled, and he crossed his arms tight in front of himself, tapping his foot impatiently with a dramatic huff. It was way more adorable than it was menacing, but it would continue until he either got his way or was unsuccessful.
On the nights his dramatics weren’t convincing enough, he’d stomp up the stairs to his room, throwing his tiny body onto the bed with a “hmph.”
When his mother came to check on him, he would feign sleep, but when she left, he would creep to his window, pushing it open with every ounce of his 5-year-old strength.
He was only ever able to crack it an inch or two, but it was an adequate act of protest to his 5-year-old brain.
Izuku never came during the nighttime, of course, but after Katsuki told the other boy about the habit, some days he would hear the occasional knock on his window, followed by a giggle, and Izuku would stand there with a tiny smirk before pointing toward the front of Katsuki’s house, a signal that he was going to knock on the door.
“Mom! Mom! Zuzu’s here! Can you let him in so we can play? Please please please please please,” he’d shout as he raced down the stairs.
“Alright, alright, brat,” his mother would sigh, before letting Izuku in through the door.
He’d stopped the habit a couple of months after Deku was diagnosed as quirkless, but he found himself thinking back to it now…
.
.
.
Maybe I should…
“No.” He said aloud.
“Opening the window would be completely pointless.”
Peeling himself off the floor, he crawled into his bed, but hesitated before pulling the blanket over himself.
.
.
.
If I just cracked it slightly…
“That’s ridiculous… You’re not fucking five anymore!”
He dragged the blanket over his body, covering his head as well in protest of Irrational Katsuki’s™ suggestions. It was hard to breathe and downright uncomfortable that way, though, so he gave it up after about thirty seconds of suffering
(Like he said, argumentative to a fault).
Face uncovered, he lay there for an hour, sleep still evading him despite his exhaustion.
.
.
.
Well???
“It’s fucking raining. I am not fucking opening the window.”
.
.
.
But didn’t it help you sleep better when you were a kid?
Knowing you’d done something in your power to see your “Zuku” again?
He groaned.
“Okay, okay, fine… you win,” he muttered to himself as he shoved the blanket off his body and trudged to the balcony.
As expected, it was muggy outside. The cold wind blew across his cheeks and the mist tickled his skin as he cracked open the glass door, and then turned back to burrow under his blankets.
He shivered.
Katsuki had never been tolerant of the cold, and he despised rain. Explosive sweat didn’t exactly work if it kept washing off your skin… or if you couldn’t sweat in the first place…
He really shouldn’t be doing this…
It was incredibly stupid.
He was probably going to get sick from the cold.
Stray raindrops were already coming in through the fucking crack in the glass…
Why am I so fucking stubborn...
He felt like an idiot, but despite all logic, Katsuki left his window open, and sleep came to him at last.