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Ever since the war, Izuku had picked up a few bad habits. It's his way of coping, though he knows it's not healthy.
He started smoking because it reminded him of Smokescreen. He started drinking because the pounding in his head provides some semblance to the sensation he got with Danger Sense. He did more of the former since it was far easier to sneak into the dorms.
No one knew about the unhealthy habits he had picked up, not even the person he'd trade his world for, and he intended to keep it that way.
He was spiraling emotionally. All the regret and anger he had built up had become too much. Since they started back up school again he'd spend hours afterward sitting in the confines of his room.
He rarely spoke anymore, and when he did, he was more timid and snappy. His classmates knew better than to intervene. They figured this is a battle he needs to fight on his own, and that it was only natural.
This was another one of those days. School had dragged on for unbearably long and he needed time to himself. He sat in his usual spot, against the wall by his bed, in view of the door, with the lights off. He fumbled with a lighter to start up another cigarette. He had become so lost in thought that he had lost count of how many he had smoked.
It had become like a second nature to him, barely requiring any thought to it. His mind was getting foggy, just the way he liked it. He couldn't think straight, and if he couldn't think straight, he couldn't be suffocating in regret.
His bedroom was filled with smoke, which to an outsider would be unbearable, regardless, he refused to open the window. He was almost too lost in the effects of the drug to hear the knock on his door.
He groggily got up, not considering that the person knocking would be able to smell the ash floating in the air and sticking to his clothes. He unlocked the door and leaned lazily against the frame, barely registering the person standing in front of him.
“Izuku, we need to-” the blond cut himself off when he took in Izuku's state.
The red tint in his eyes and the unnaturally relaxed way he was holding his body. He caught on immediately, because of course he would.
“Izuku Fucking Midoriya, are you high right now?”
“What do you want?” Izuku barked, completely ignoring Bakugo's question.
Taken aback by Izuku's uncharacteristically angry response, he fumbled over his words. “I- What the hell?”
He shoved his way past Izuku to see the ash tray and the mostly empty box lying in Izuku's corner.
“Katsuki, get the fuck out of my room.” Izuku growled, standing protectively between the blond and cigarettes.
“I came to check on you because you've been acting fucking weird all week and now I know why. You're higher than the fucking ceiling.” Bakugo tried to maneuver around Izuku to no avail.
“I am not, you dick. Have you ever heard of coping? You should try it sometime.” Snapping, he shoved him back.
“No. I went to therapy. Far better in my opinion.” Bakugo countered.
Izuku scoffed as he backed up until his back met the wall. He slid down it, back into his sitting position, picking up the cigarette he left burning on the ash tray.
“Oh hell no you don't.” Snatching the cigarette and lighter out of Izuku's hands, the blond crushed one in each hand. The hot tip of it burned his palm, but he refused to let any discomfort show on his face.
“What the hell is wrong with you, you asshole?!” Izuku stood up, fuming.
“I'm preventing you from killing yourself. You're welcome.”
“Oh please, like you care.” He scoffed, refusing to look into his eyes, in fear that he'd falter under his gaze.
“The fuck is that supposed to mean? Of course I care!”
Izuku scoffed. “Sure whatever you have to tell yourself.”
“Seriously, Izuku, what is wrong with you? You may be high out of your mind but you're acting insane.” Katsuki asked more to himself to Izuku.
“Nothings wrong with me and I'm not insane. You just destroyed the only fucking thing that lets my mind go quiet.” He shuttered, whether it was because of anger or something else entirely, neither of them could tell.
“You don't act like this. You don't cuss. You don't yell. And most of all you don't smoke. So, mind telling me what's fucking you up?” Bakugo questioned, failing to mask the desperation in his voice.
“You! You're what's fucking with my head!” Izuku grasped at his hair for emphasis.
“Every time I try to get a single moment of peace, my dumbass head just has to think about your dead body laying on the fucking ground and the fact I couldn’t do anything to stop it!” Izuku snapped. His voice cracked, but he hardly noticed. All he saw was red and a blurry Bakugo standing in front of him.
With that confession, Bakugo froze.
“Why didn't you tell me?” He finally choked out more weakness showing in his voice than he would've liked.
“I didn't know how, hell I still don't. What was I supposed to say? ‘Oh hey, Kacchan, you're lifeless corpse still haunts me every time I let my mind wander so I became a fucking junkie to cope.’ Because you would've taken that so damn well!”
“Even if I didn’t, it's still better than you doing this yourself.” He splays his hands out, emphasizing the state of Izuku's room and how he's slowly destroying himself.
Then, Bakugo's phone rings.
“We're not done.” He says before stepping out of the room, taking the call.
Izuku doesn’t know who it is, and he frankly doesn't care. When the door shuts, he fishes under his mattress where he keeps spare lighters and lights another cigarette, completely disregarding the conversation they just had.
He figured Bakugo wasn’t coming back tonight, so he let himself fully relax. He hated how easy it had become. How easy it was for him to rely on something toxic to keep him from losing his mind. He hated that Bakugo saw him like this, in his unhealthy spiral. He exhaled sharply, the smoke stinging his lungs.
Then the door opened again.
Izuku didn’t look up. “Forget something?”
“No.” Bakugo said calmer than when he left. “I told them to call me back. This is more important.”
Izuku scoffed. “Don't lie to me. You were dying to get out of here.”
His eyes lingered on the large scar that decorated the blonde's chest. The spot where his heart seemingly burst out of his chest causing Izuku to think he had lost him forever. The whole reason for his spiral was right in front of him, taunting him.
Bakugo pushed the door until it clicked shut. “If I wanted to leave, then I wouldn't have come back.”
He crossed the room, crouching down in front of Izuku. His eyes scanned the mess: the overflowing ash tray, the shattered lighter, and the smoke cloud that covered the room like a blanket.
“You think I'd leave you alone, dumbass?” His voice trembled slightly, but it went unnoticed.
“I am alone.” Izuku snapped back.
“You don't have to be.”
Izuku's jaw clenched. “Don't say that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you're here now, but you weren't when I needed you the most!” Izuku’s voice cracked as he shoved Bakugo weakly. “You died! You left me!” He sounded like a wounded animal. His voice was torn and pitchy like someone so incredibly important had betrayed him.
Bakugo's breath hitched. He could hear his heart pound in his ears.
Izuku’s eyes stung. He wasn't sure if it was smoke or genuine tears, but that was the least of his concerns. “I keep thinking, what if I had moved faster, been better, been stronger. I watched your lifeless corpse bleed out and I did nothing. And all I've done since is try not to think about it. But I can't. It's always there in the back of my mind, playing on loop.” He trembled, dropping the cigarette down onto the tray.
Bakugo sat next to Izuku, ignoring the heavy smell.
“Izuku.” His voice was rough, almost tired. “I don’t remember much, but from what I do remember from recovery was you crying. I wasn't sure if I was dreaming or hallucinating, but now-”
“You didn’t dream it.” Izuku sighed, leaning against Bakugo as the high started to wear off, leaving him drowsy.
Bakugo moved his arm so it was in contact with Izuku’s. “Then I'm sorry I didn't come to you sooner.”
“Go ahead.” Izuku mumbled.
“Go ahead and what?” Bakugo asked affectionately. Whatever Izuku asked at this moment he wasn't sure if he could say no.
“Go ahead wrap your arms around me. I know you want to.” Izuku supplied, a tired smile evident in his voice.
“So good at reading me. Like always.” Katsuki muttered as he wrapped his arms around Izuku, nuzzling his face into his curls.
After a brief moment of silence Izuku spoke up. “I didn't know how to live with it, Kacchan.” He whispered. “How do you come back from seeing the love of your life's dead body?”
Bakugo’s heart stuttered at the nickname, but he didn't comment on it as he chalked it up to the influence of the drug. “You don't.” He gripped Izuku tighter. “But you don't have to do it alone.”
Izuku pressed further into Bakugo’s side, hands gripping his tank top like a lifeline. “I can still remember it so vividly.”
“I'll help you forget. Make you focus on better, more meaningful things.”
Neither of them spoke again. They fell asleep like that, each other's steady breaths lulling them to sleep as they held each other close.