Chapter Text
Bakugou's teeth gritted together as he stepped out of the treatment center, his right arm wrapped in a thick compression sleeve, the scar tissue still a constant reminder of just how much he'd sacrificed. His Quirk was still unpredictable, the force of his explosions sometimes too much for the damaged limb to handle. The therapy was supposed to be helping, but it felt more like a damn reminder of how weak he still was. He hated it. He hated these damn physical therapy sessions. He hated the feeling of being less than what he used to be, of needing help just to function properly again.
He glanced over at you, walking beside him in quiet steps, your eyes focused ahead. You never complained. Not like him. You had your own struggles—hell, yours were worse. Your Quirk had been making everything ten times harder for you, especially after the war. The darker side of you, the side that everyone feared and labeled as "villainous", had nearly ruined your reputation. The media, the public... they'd all seen what happened when you lost control that dark, rainy day. They didn't care for what you stood for, that you were far different than what they made you out to be. All they saw was the danger you posed when that thing came to light, a consequence of the fear that continued to linger amongst society after the war against All For One. In their eyes, you were a monster, someone who was no better than the devil incarnate. That's why you were here, just like him, trying to get a handle on it, trying to become who you used to be—who you wanted to be.
You met Bakugou's gaze briefly before your eyes fell to the compression sleeve on his arm. You knew how much it hurt him to even talk about it, but you couldn't help but check on him sometimes. The tension in his jaw, the slight furrow in his brow—you knew he was struggling. You had been watching him fight through these therapy sessions for over a year now, trying to get his arm back to full strength, all while trying to hide how much it really bothered him.
"How's your arm?" You asked softly, your voice careful, almost like you were treading on fragile ground. It wasn't that you expected him to answer honestly—he never did, but you had to ask. You hated seeing him like this, barely holding it together, pretending he was fine when everyone could see how hard he was pushing himself.
Bakugou's scowl deepened as you spoke up, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. He resented that damn arm, but his ego wouldn't allow him to admit it. It wasn't just the physical pain and limitations, it was the constant frustration of feeling like he was being held back from being the best, from reaching his full potential. He wanted to show everyone, prove to them that nothing could hold him back, not even a damn injured arm. Yet, here he was, struggling to find his rhythm again. His jaw tightened, clenching painfully as he spoke. "Fine." Bakugou said brusquely.
His tone was dismissive, as if he were trying to shut you down before you could even think to ask again. But you could see the truth in his eyes, the barely contained frustration and anger simmering just beneath the surface. It was like he was angry at himself for not being able to push past this, for not being able to just get over it and move on. But he didn't know how much longer he could keep up this facade, not when you looked at him like that, all gentle and understanding. He knew they were both pretending. Pretending that everything was fine, that they didn't have these damn heavy weights dragging them down. But it was hard to ignore the fact that they were both so broken in different ways. You had your own demons, and Bakugou had his. And yet, somehow, you always ended up at the same point together. He'd be lying if he said that your spirit wasn't what pulled him to you in the first place, your resilience remaining strong even when it felt like the whole world was against you. In the same way Midoriya kept fighting when it hurt, or how Kirishima was an unbreakable horse, you were unstoppable, and it was enough to catch Bakugou's attention the moment he laid eyes on you back in first year. You were special, but he could never bring himself to admit that out loud.
You reached the corner of the street where Kirishima was supposed to meet them, as usual. Bakugou could see the redhead from a distance, leaning casually against the brick wall, looking as laidback as ever. Kirishima's grin was wide and carefree the moment he spotted the duo walking towards him, like he hadn't spent the whole afternoon worrying about his friends. The guy never seemed to stop smiling, always so full of energy and warmth. Bakugou could feel the familiar mix of frustration and envy twist inside him. He hated how easy Kirishima made everything look, how he effortlessly radiated positivity that was enough to brighten anyone's spirits. Meanwhile, Bakugou couldn't even figure out how to smile without feeling like he was about to explode.
"Hey guys!" Kirishima called out, pushing himself off the wall with an enthusiastic smile. Without missing a beat, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and started walking forward, effectively sandwiching you between him and Bakugou.
As they continued down the street, Kirishima's arm lingered around your shoulders as he yapped about some new protein powder he's been trying out, an innocent touch that sent a spark of annoyance coursing through Bakugou's veins. He had to remind himself that this was normal for Kirishima, that he was just being friendly, like always. It didn't mean anything, except that Kirishima was an annoyingly touchy-feely guy with zero awareness of anyone's personal space. Kirishima was the definition of a social butterfly, always chatting with anyone and everyone, especially you. But deep down, Bakugou knew the truth. There was a certain connection between you two that Bakugou couldn't understand, something that he yearned for but couldn't quite grasp. It was subtle, but it was there. In the way Kirishima looked at you, in how he touched you casually without thought. In the way you seemed to relax around him, letting down your guard just a little. It infuriated Bakugou, but it also intrigued him. He wanted to understand what made you tick, why you responded to Kirishima in a way that Bakugou struggled to replicate. Bakugou could see it clearly, the way you softened around Kirishima, how you leaned into his touch without even realizing it. You seemed to enjoy his company, his jokes, and his endless rambling more than any time you spent with just Bakugou. And it was those moments, where he felt like nothing more than a bystander between you and Kirishima, that served as a reminder of how inadequate he felt next to his best friend.
It was always like this. Kirishima was so effortlessly charming and likeable, while Bakugou was stuck playing the gruff, standoffish role. It was like he was destined to be the sourpuss of the group, the guy who always had a scowl on his face. Damn it. He couldn't understand it sometimes, why it was so hard for him to be normal like his peers. He just wanted to be as confident and smooth as Kirishima without looking like an egotistical bastard, to know how to connect with people without feeling like he was about to blow a fuse. He knew it was stupid to let it bother him, but he couldn't help it. When Kirishima touched you like that, it felt like a reminder of what Bakugou could never have with you. But would he really do anything about it? No. The truth was, he didn't know what he wanted. Sure, he had feelings for you—feelings he couldn't deny—but the idea of admitting them out loud, of actually acting on them, terrified him. It was easier to keep his distance, to keep his thoughts to himself. At least then, he couldn't get hurt.
But then, he would see you laughing at Kirishima's jokes or teasing him playfully, and that flicker of jealousy would ignite again. It was like a goddamn flame inside of him, impossible to extinguish, burning him from the inside out. Bakugou could rarely make you laugh like that, and when he tried, it always seemed to come out wrong, like he was trying too hard. His jokes fell flat, or he just ended up sounding like an idiot. He sometimes thought to himself: what would it be like if that was him? If he could touch you so easily, make you smile like that? If you looked at him the same way you did Kirishima, so warm and inviting, like he was the one that hung the moon and stars? He felt like a prisoner of his own heart, and he wanted to break free. He wanted out of this never-ending cycle of yearning for something more, but he was too scared to face what he desired the most. He didn't want to just be the aloof guy everyone knew him as anymore, but it was all he'd ever known. He wanted to take a chance for something more, something real, but then that meant opening himself up, and he didn't think he was strong enough for that. But what if he was? What if he finally grew the courage to express himself openly, unleashing every thought and every emotion that he had kept bottled up in his chest? But that was just a fantasy, another pipe dream, wasn't it? Because he knew he was locked out of his own heart and all this would be just another what-if.
"Bakugou?" You asked gently, almost hesitantly.
Bakugou's gaze snapped to meet yours as you spoke, his brows furrowing in confusion for a moment before he realized both you and Kirishima were looking at him expectantly. He hadn't realized he'd zoned out again, his thoughts consumed by that persistent flame of jealousy and longing. Damn it. He was becoming as bad as Kirishima, losing focus and getting lost in his own head.
"What?" He snapped, his voice sharp as if to mask his lapse in attention.
Your expression softened despite Bakugou's harsh tone, something that you'd gotten accustomed to over the years. Where Kirishima met Bakugou's brash behavior with unwavering optimism, you approached Bakugou from a more empathetic standpoint. You knew he didn't mean to react the way he did sometimes, especially when he was struggling with his own battles, and it took a lot of patience to be able to truly bond with him to get to where you were now. Because no matter how much Bakugou pushed away, you and Kirishima always stayed and waited patiently, like trying to coax a feral cat to follow you home.
"Are your hearing aids working okay? Kirishima asked you about therapy." You said softly, a small smile etched on your face as a silent form of support. You nodded towards Kirishima as you spoke, who looked back at Bakugou with an encouraging smile of his own.
Bakugou instinctively reached for his hearing aid, shooting a glare your way as he muttered a quick, "Of course they are, idiot", but his tone lacked its usual heat. But as he let your last statement sink in, he felt a pang of annoyance, the weight of your expectant gazes making him feel even more irritated. Therapy was none of your damn business, and he didn't owe the two of you any explanations. He already told you that he was fine, so why couldn't you do him a favor and tell Kirishima to buzz off yourself? But, as he looked between the two of you, something softened in his expression. Maybe it was the way Kirishima was grinning at him, all bright and optimistic, or maybe it was the gentle patience in your eyes that got to him. Whatever it was, he knew he couldn't deny you some form of answer.
He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I already told (L/N) it was fine," he muttered. "The usual."
Kirishima's grin widened at the response, seemingly satisfied with whatever you could get from Bakugou when he wasn't in the mood to talk. He nodded, accepting the answer with ease, but you knew it was never just that simple with Bakugou. Bakugou's eyes met yours again, his expression more subdued now, as if he were silently asking you not to press further. He didn't have to say it out loud for you to understand. Talking about therapy was difficult for him, even with you and Kirishima. You respected his boundaries, understanding that some things just took more time.
You nodded, silently acknowledging Bakugou's unspoken request for privacy. You assumed that Bakugou having answered the same question twice probably rubbed him the wrong way, so you knew it was best to stop prying and let him be. Maybe in due time, Bakugou would open up when he was ready. Kirishima, on the other hand, didn't seem to pick up on the subtle exchange between you. He glanced at you, his expression quizzical, but you shook your head slightly, signaling to him not to push the subject further. You gave the arm he had wrapped around your shoulders a reassuring pat before turning your attention back to the path ahead.
The rest of the journey back to campus was filled with Kirishima's usual upbeat chatter, occasionally punctured by Bakugou's grunts of acknowledgement or irritated retorts amidst your own soft-spoken responses. It was all a part of their dynamic, the push and pull you faced between Kirishima's cheerfulness and Bakugou's abrasiveness. Kirishima had a knack for filling the silence between them, like he'd developed a radar for it. Whenever it seemed to get too quiet, he'd jump in with a story or a joke, as if he were determined to drown out any chance of awkwardness.
"We should hang out and watch something tonight, like old times." Kirishima suggested, his voice filled with excitement.
Bakugou's response was typical, a gruff dismissal that only served to emphasize the contrast between the two. "I'm busy." He grumbled, a statement that seemed to say, 'You guys go ahead without me.' Yet, beneath that rough exterior, you could see a flicker of hesitation, as if he wanted to hold on to the old days, when life was simpler, and friendships were carefree. He masked it was a scowl and a sharp tone, but you and Kirishima knew him well enough to see through his tough act. Underneath, Bakugou was just as nostalgic as the rest of you, if not more. He yearned for the time when the trail they left behind wasn't covered in bloodshed. The war had changed all of them, leaving scars behind that ran deep. Bakugou, who had always been the epitome of confidence and strength, now found that inner fire quivering beneath a constant shadow of uncertainty and self-doubt. He tried to hide it, to keep up the mask of invincibility, but his eyes betrayed the vulnerability he felt. Kirishima was no different. Even though he wore his heart on his sleeve and faced every day with a smile, those dark days still haunted him, like a ghost that refused to be laid to rest. It showed in his training, how often he spent in the gym just to make up for not being strong enough, for allowing his friends to get hurt because he wasn't good enough. He beat himself up for it, both mentally and physically, to atone for past mistakes that weren't even his to bear. But he was just a kid. They were all just kids that were forced to grow up too soon, to face a world where they were nothing more than weapons of mass destruction. They knew it was all for the greater good, but even they sometimes questioned if things would ever be the same. It was clear that they were all grappling with their own demons, fighting to hold on to the precious bond they had forged amidst the turmoil.
Kirishima's smile faltered slightly, the disappointment clear in his expression, but he quickly hid it behind another laugh. "Aw, man. What're you busy with? Gonna go tuck yourself in at your usual bedtime, granny?" He asked playfully, trying to keep the conversation light.
Bakugou's eyes narrowed as he shot Kirishima an irritated glance. "None of your business, Shitty Hair." He snapped, his usual blunt and abrasive response.
You shot Bakugou a pointed look, a silent reprimand for him to not be so harsh with Kirishima. You all knew this was Kirishima's way of coping, to deal with the effects of the war that should have brought you closer together. In some ways, it did. It seemed like you and Kirishima became damn near inseparable, the events reminding you to appreciate the little things in life, the ups and downs however they may come. But for Bakugou, it almost seemed to have the opposite effect. You could see him trying to bridge the gaps sometimes, at least when it was just you and him, but every step forward was subsequently met with two steps back.
Bakugou noticed your pointed glare and scoffed, his scowl still firmly in place. He wasn't one to respond well to being told to be nicer. If anything, it only served to make him surlier. But, as you stared at him, something in his expression softened, almost imperceptibly. He let out a gruff grunt, a subtle acknowledgement that he'd heard your unspoken message. He hated how easily you could knock down the walls he built, but maybe that's another reason why he liked you. You just knew how to get under his skin too well for his own good.
"Are you sure you don't want to join us?" You asked, not necessarily as a challenge but just out of pure curiosity. You genuinely wanted him to watch a movie with you, to take a break from his biblical cycle of training and school; you missed spending time with him, too. But if he needed space and was sure of it, you'd take his rejection with grace and respect it.
"I..." He started, but trailed off, seeming hesitant.
You could see him wrestling with himself, his stubbornness and pride clashing with his deep-seated desire for connection with his friends. He wanted to join you, to find solace in your company, but he also felt like he didn't deserve it. The only thing that seemed to hold Bakugou back was himself, and it pained you to see him struggle like this. You wanted to tell him that it was okay to lean on others, to let down his walls, but you knew it would only push him farther away. So instead, you just waited, silently giving him space to make his decision.
"I'll think about it." He muttered finally, his voice barely audible. He couldn't bring himself to make the promise, but the fact that he didn't outright dismiss the idea was progress, at least. He was considering it, and that filled you with a glimmer of hope.
You flashed Bakugou a small smile, nodding at his response. "Alright, that's all I ask," you said. You looked over at Kirishima, your smile only broadening in hopes the news would cheer Kirishima up again. "Do you want to get snacks on the way back to campus?"
Kirishima seemed to instantly perk up at the suggestion, his usual energy and enthusiasm returning at full force. "Ooh, yeah! That sounds great!" He replied ecstatically, his worries about Bakugou already fading away. Kirishima was always so quick to bounce back, even when things got tense between them. He had a unique ability to see the good in every situation, to never let the bad get him down for long. His positivity was something that you admired, even if your way of dealing with things was more grounded in realism.
Bakugou couldn't help but roll his eyes at Kirishima's sudden shift in mood. He grumbled under his breath, a soft, "Tch..." of disapproval, but there was no real malice behind it. "Whatever, Hair for Brains," he grumbled. "Don't eat all the damn snacks before we can watch the movie."
Your ears perked up at Bakugou's last statement, your smile morphing into a teasing smirk as you gently nudged him with your elbow. "'We'? Didn't take you long to decide on joining us after all, huh?"
Bakugou tensed up slightly, his eyes darting to you, his expression quickly becoming guarded. He was about to retort, probably with a sharp remark, but surprisingly, he didn't. Instead, he just huffed and started walking ahead, looking away as he muttered under his breath, "Catch up before I change my mind."
As you approached the buzzing convenience store, the warm glow of its fluorescent lights illuminated the pavement before you. Bakugou quickened his pace, eager to be the first to step foot inside and claim his territory within its aisles. Kirishima matched Bakugou's urgency, the two of them engaging in an unspoken race towards the entrance, their competitive spirits palpable in the cool evening air. It was moments like these that the true essence of their friendship shone through, a bond forced through shared goals, mutual respect, and unwavering support. And as you followed them into the store, your heart swelled with gratitude for the unbreakable connection that you shared with these individuals. You knew that you were incredibly lucky to call them your friends, your confidants, your rocks. And as you stood in the aisle, watching Bakugou and Kirishima argue over which snacks were best for a movie night, you found yourself grabbing your own snacks and joining in on the playful banter.
It wasn't long before the trio embarked on their journey back to campus, their hands full of snacks and hearts filled with joy at the prospect of being able to recharge and reconnect with one another after so long. The night was bittersweet, filled with laughter and the smell of popcorn that served as a reminder of the times they held dear to their hearts. But all good things don't last forever, and as the movie came to an end and the credits began to roll, the three found themselves lingering in the moment, not quite ready to say goodnight. Kirishima tried to keep the moment alive, but even he started to realize it was a lost cause as he ran out of new things to say to spark conversation. Bakugou was the first to pull away, just as he always did, and began walking towards the door, his footsteps seemingly heavier than usual. Kirishima stood up as well, but he couldn't bring himself to move just yet, his gaze fixed on you.
"Goodnight, (Y/N)..." Kirishima said, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with warmth and affection. He forced himself to ignore the way his heart beat rapidly against his chest, how his body wanted nothing more than to stay rooted in this bed with you, to continue to bask in your presence for just a little longer.
"Sparring in the morning, Hell Spawn. Don't be late." Bakugou grumbled, his tone a little gentler than usual but still enough to break the fragile air between you and Kirishima.
You rolled your eyes at Bakugou's nickname, the same nickname he'd used since the moment your Quirk was revealed back in first year. "Yeah, yeah, I won't," you waved him off dismissively with a chuckle, knowing that if you ever did decide to sleep in a fraction of a second, he'd break down your door and drag you to the training grounds by your hair. You returned your attention back to Kirishima, who still held that fond expression on his face. "Goodnight, Kirishima." You replied, your voice equally as soft as you bid him farewell.
Kirishima slowly stepped back from the bed, his movements almost stiff and hesitant. He knew that it was time to leave, to allow you some peace for the rest of the night. Yet, there was a part of him that didn't want to let go, that wanted to linger just a little bit longer, even if he couldn't find the right words to express why. But now wasn't the time for all of that, at least not yet. So, he simply gave you one last nod, a silent promise that he would be there for you whenever you needed him. He gave you a final smile before turning and following Bakugou out the door, leaving you alone with a lingering tension that you couldn't quite decipher. Or at least that's what you forced yourself not to fixate on.
The tension between them—between all three of them—was palpable. It was like something was slowly shifting, but none of them were brave enough to speak it out loud. Instead, they just went on as if everything were perfectly normal, as if the constant undercurrent of uncertainty, the unspoken questions and desires, didn't exist at all. Maybe they weren't ready to face it, or maybe they were just too scared of risking what they had with each other. Either way, it was a dangerous game they were playing, pretending that everything was fine, that their feelings could be contained and controlled.
But, like clockwork, all good things don't last forever.