Work Text:
After the war had ended, Bakugou’s heart never went back to normal. Even halfway through his third year at U.A., he still struggled with it.
He should’ve been thankful. Edge Shot had saved his life. If it weren’t for him, Bakugou would’ve been nothing but a memory of the boy who died fighting All For One.
But it was still frustrating. Bakugou had been the best for so long. He was always top of his class, striving to be the number one hero. He wasn’t used to falling behind. Everyone stressed that he needed to “take it slow,” but slow wasn’t something he knew how to do.
Feeling weak was also something he hated. He couldn’t stand it. His classmates gave him worried looks, Deku always fucking hovered, Aizawa was reluctant to let him spar, and his parents called him every single day to check in on him.
He wasn’t incompetent, damn it. It wasn’t like he’d drop dead from a slight breeze. People looked at him as if he hadn’t survived.
When he had first been discharged from the hospital, it was bad. Almost every night he struggled with chest pain. They diagnosed him with paroxysmal afib. His heart wasn’t strong enough to deal with the nitroglycerin from his quirk. Doctors said that it should improve over time, but nothing was set in stone. There was a chance he would never recover, and even though no one said that out loud, Bakugou still knew it.
Over time, he did get better. He kicked everyone’s ass during physical therapy—Not literally. Turning it into a competition helped him not feel so inferior. The “episodes” were less frequent, and his classmates stopped treating him like a sick person. Deku still hovered though, and Bakugou had a feeling that wouldn’t go away for some time.
When his heart wouldn’t stop racing despite having been in bed for hours, Bakugou knew he had overdone it in training. He hated that. For the first time in what felt like forever, he’d been keeping up with everyone. He thought he’d finally gotten better. Would it always be that way for him? How was he supposed to become the number one hero if his heart flipped out anytime he used his quirk?
Bakugou would never admit it out loud, but he didn’t like having the episodes alone. It was easy to spiral, and his mind would wander, wondering if he’d die alone. Again.
He could go to Aizawa, but it wasn’t a medical emergency yet. It should resolve itself. Kirishima was an option, but Bakugou hadn’t told anyone in his class that it could get so bad. Deku knew bits and pieces, but that was all. Bakugou had thought Deku was a worry wart before the war, but after… Deku was like a living ball of anxiety. Not that Bakugou blamed him.
Checking the time on his phone, he groaned in frustration. He didn’t want to be weak, but he’d be a hypocrite if he kept struggling alone.
“Izuku, promise me you won’t keep doing this alone,” was what he had said the first time he saw one of Deku’s panic attacks after the war. Bakugou had sat with him through some before, but they were on a different level after the war. He used to sit next to Deku until the shakes stopped, and that was enough. But then the attacks changed, and sitting by him wasn’t enough.
He had asked Deku to promise he wouldn’t struggle in silence because the thought of Deku keeping those panic attacks to himself was horrible.
“Only if you promise me the same,” Izuku sniffled, wiping his eyes. “I don’t want you to hurt alone, either. I don’t care how late it is. Please, call me.”
Bakugou wouldn’t call. Deku would hear his short, pained gasps and freak out. So, he settled for a text.
Bakugou: You up?
The reply was almost instant.
Deku: yes
Deku: what’s up? u ok?
Bakugou typed his response, deleted it, typed another one, and deleted it again. Why was asking for help so hard? Maybe he could play it cool and act casual.
Apparently, he had taken too long to respond because Deku texted again.
Deku: kacchan? what’s wrong? you never text this late
Bakugou: My heart is doing the thing and I don’t want to be alone rn
He typed the message quickly and threw his phone down on the bed, covering his face with one hand. That was embarrassing. It made him sound desperate. Maybe he was.
The small moment of panic made his chest tighten painfully. He breathed out harshly, laying his head back on the pillow as he rubbed over the scar on his chest.
Three soft knocks sounded at the door before Deku pushed it open. He was wearing his All Might pajamas, his hair sticking out at odd angles from sleep.
“Hey,” Deku called quietly, closing the door behind him.
“This blows,” Bakugou sighed, trying to act unbothered. He hoped it was working.
“What is it?” Deku asked as he sat on the edge of the bed, eyeing how Bakugou’s hand was pressed over his heart.
Bakugou scooted over to make room for him. Had he really never told Deku before?
“Paroxysmal afib. It’s not necessarily dangerous, but it hurts like a bitch, and makes my anxiety through the roof, which in turn makes my heart beat faster, and… yeah. Fucking sucks.”
Communicating was still uncomfortable for him, but it was always a bit easier with Deku. Their entire class was in mandatory therapy. Originally, Bakugou hated Aizawa for doing that, but when it proved to be helpful, he was a little more willing to go.
“Oh,” Deku frowned. “I had a nightmare.”
It wasn’t uncommon for them to share struggles either. If Deku had shared something vulnerable, Bakugou would share something too so he wouldn’t feel as exposed.
“Yeah?”
Deku nodded and settled down next to him, turning on his side so he could face Bakugou. “Yeah.”
“Same one?”
“Yeah.” Deku’s expression was grim, and once Bakugou looked, he noticed his eyes were red and puffy.
“Well, I would say you could feel my heartbeat, but I think that might make you panic more,” he joked, and Deku smiled slightly.
“Would that help?”
“Huh?”
“If I felt your heartbeat, would that help?” Deku repeated.
“Help you, or me?” Bakugou didn’t quite understand the question.
“Help you,” he clarified.
Bakugou thought about it for a moment. Heat might feel nice, but he couldn’t use his quirk. Deku always had warm, soft hands, so his touch wouldn’t be unwelcome.
“Yeah, actually. It might.” He sat up slightly, pulling his shirt off to expose his chest. He laid back down with a shaky sigh. Fuck, it hurt. It really hurt. He clenched his jaw, trying not to let it show.
Deku leaned on one elbow so he was hovering halfway over Bakugou. He traced the scar with his fingertips, his touch featherlight.
“If it hurts, it hurts,” Deku said, green eyes boring into Bakugou’s crimson ones. “Holding your breath is gonna make it worse. I don’t care if you act hurt when you are hurt.”
Deku watched him with a worried gaze when his breathing picked up, small wounded sounds escaping with each quick breath.
The tender touches from Deku were nice, but they weren’t enough. It felt like his chest had been set on fire. He could feel the scar reopening. He was falling apart, tearing open at the seams.
While he knew that was not happening, the feeling persisted. He was looking at his chest, nothing was there, yet he swore he could feel the skin ripping apart, burning.
With one hand, he grabbed Deku’s shoulder, trying to pull him down.
“What’s wrong?” Deku asked, voice rising with anxiety.
“Pressure,” he ground out, still trying to pull Deku over.
“Huh?” Deku had to brace himself with an arm on the other side of Bakugou’s head unless he wanted to fall on him.
“Feels like I’m falling apart.” He didn’t mean that in the emotional sense. No, it felt like he was physically breaking. “Need pressure.”
Bakugou had been a weighted blanket for Deku before, so damn it, why wasn’t Deku doing it back? If his right arm wasn’t going numb, then he would’ve already had Deku where he wanted him.
“Are you sure that’ll help?”
“Yes. Damn it, Deku,” his voice wavered, and it gave away how close he was to tears.
“Okay, okay,” Deku gave in, slowly lowering himself on top of him. “Tell me if you can’t breathe.”
Deku wasn’t putting his full weight on him, so Bakugou wrapped his arm around his shoulders and forced him down, causing Deku to let out a small “Oof.”
It still burned, but Deku was warm. He couldn’t fall apart with Deku holding him together.
“Kacchan,” Deku whispered, almost hesitantly.
“What?” Why was he being so difficult?
“I think you’re having a panic attack on top of the episode.” Deku pulled his head back to look at him better, brushing his bangs away from where they had stuck to his forehead with sweat.
Ah, that would explain it.
“Makes sense,” he panted. It made a lot of sense, actually.
“You’re not gonna die,” Deku said seriously. “Your heart isn’t gonna stop. You won’t die. I won’t let you.”
And Bakugou believed him. If anyone else had said it, he would’ve called them out on their bullshit. But Deku wasn’t just anyone. If he said something, he meant it. So if he told Bakugou wasn’t going to die, he wouldn’t die. Why shouldn’t he believe him?
“I’m not gonna die,” he repeated. Maybe Deku needed the reassurance, too. The whole situation probably wasn’t helping Deku’s anxiety. They were kind of codependent. When had that started?
“Just breathe, okay?” Deku continued to play with his hair. He inhaled slowly, waiting for Bakugou to copy him.
They breathed like that together for a while, Deku playing with the spikes of blond hair until Bakugou stopped breathing so harshly.
The ache in his chest was still there, but it no longer felt like he was actively dying. He felt a bit woozy, but he’d grown accustomed to that. Nitroglycerin was a bitch sometimes.
“You okay? Did that help? Did I help?”
“I’m better now,” he assured. “You helped. You’re still helping.”
“Can I ask questions now?”
Bakugou sighed, having known that was coming. “Knock yourself out.”
“What’s paroxysmal afib? I’ve heard of afib before, but I don’t really know what that is.”
“Alright, so, your heart has four chambers. The upper ones are the atria, and the lower ones are the ventricles. Afib is when the upper chambers beat out of sync with the lower chambers, which causes the upper chambers to tremble or shake.” It was nice to have something else to focus on besides the discomfort in his chest.
“What’s paroxysmal, then?”
“It just means that it comes and goes.”
“Oh, okay.” Deku went quiet, and he was probably trying to commit the words to memory so he could write them down later. Nerd.
“You feeling okay? You’re kinda shaky, and a bit pale,” Deku pointed out, pressing the back of his hand to Bakugou’s forehead.
“‘m dizzy. That’s normal for this. Plus, since I was sweating, there’s more nitroglycerin. My body is kinda constantly battling itself,” he laughed bitterly.
“I’m sure there’s some pill or something you could take to counteract the effects of nitroglycerin without compromising your quirk. Maybe a blood pressure medicine? I’d have to find my notebook, but I think I have a list.”
“That’s so fucking creepy, but holy shit you might be right.” He was kinda pissed his doctor hadn’t suggested that to him before. Leave it up to Deku to find the solution.
“I was worried that something like this might come up,” Deku defended. “Don’t be pissy that I’m helpful.”
“I’ve got a checkup on Wednesday, so I’ll ask about that then.”
“I’ll see if I can find which notebook it’s in. But medicine has come so far that there’s got to be something you can take for your blood pressure. It’s always been weird for you, so I’m sure it’s worse now.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “Who would’ve known that having your heart explode would have long term effects?”
“Kacchan!” Deku scolded. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s hilarious. Breathtaking, you could say.”
“Shut up,” Deku huffed, but he was smiling anyway.
“Heart stopping.”
“Stop,” Deku laughed, hiding his face against Bakugou’s shoulder. “You’re horrible.”
“No, you know what’s bad? Dunce Face keeps sending me shit like ‘this reminds me of you’ and then it’ll be a song like Kickstart My Heart by Mötley Crüe or Heart Attack by Demi Lovato.”
“That’s… Wow.” Deku shook his head, chuckling quietly.
Bakugou was excused from classes and training the next day, much to his relief and his frustration at the same time. As much as he hated missing out, his blood pressure was all over the place. He’d be feeling fine, but then the moment he went to stand up, he’d fall right back down. It was humiliating even though no one was there to see it. How was he supposed to become the number one hero in that state?
Deku knocked on the door while he was already opening it. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Bakugou said, setting his book beside him and putting the cover down first. Deku was still in his uniform, his backpack slung over his shoulders.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, plopping down in Bakugou’s desk chair. He pulled a few books from his bag and placed them on the desk.
“Like shit,” he responded dryly. “What are you doing?”
“I brought my notebooks.”
“You were being serious about that?”
“Yes, and I put a lot of thought into this, so you’re gonna listen.”
“If I could walk away right now, I would.” Bakugou wouldn’t, but Deku didn’t need to know that.
“Sure,” he said, unbothered as he flipped to a specific page. “So, you could take a vasoconstrictor medication to counteract the vasodilation of the nitroglycerin in your body. Your sweat would still be the same, the medicine would just counteract the effects on your vessels.”
“What the fuck did you just say to me?” To him, it sounded like Deku just spoke another language.
Deku laughed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “So, a vasoconstrictor would tighten your blood vessels, and in turn, raise your blood pressure. I’m sure you already know this, but nitroglycerin dilates your blood vessels, which makes your blood pressure drop. Since your heart is already in a weak state, it can’t beat fast enough to raise your blood pressure again.”
“Oh.” That actually made sense. So why the hell hadn’t his doctors already done that for him?
“Originally, I thought a pacemaker might help your afib, but given your situation, that might make it worse. I don't know. I’m not a doctor.”
“I think you should be one. Geez. You solved that faster than any of the idiots at the hospital.”
“You mean the nice people who have been taking care of you? And I’d ask your doctors about this because there might be a reason they haven’t put you on one sooner.”
“Well, I’ve been feeling pretty alright until I use my quirk, so it hasn’t come up.”
“Bring it up Wednesday then. I want you to feel better.”
“I want to feel better, too,” he grumbled, and Deku gave him a sympathetic look,
“I know you do.”