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His day had already been shit.
He woke up an hour before his alarm went off and couldn’t go back to sleep. When he decided to get out of bed his foot caught in his blanket after being numb from sitting on it, and he tripped falling on the floor. Somehow clipping his forehead on the edge of his table.
Luckily his room was reinforced with sound proofing, so no one should’ve heard it, but he is still left with a massive bruise on his forehead and a dull throbbing radiating from underneath it.
He was left a little angry over it, but pushed through his normal routine nonetheless.
Keeping to routine was important to his own sanity as he can predict and prepare for things better. If he can do everything exactly as it's supposed to go, then he can have the brain power for the moments where he needs to be spontaneous and adaptive.
He likes control. He likes things going the way he wants. He wants everything in place, but he knows people see it differently.
He tries to force himself outside his comfort zone sometimes. He might train longer than intended, go out with the squad when he planned to study, cook a meal he hadn’t placed for. To the others this is normal, but he cant help the gross feeling he gets. The heaviness of going outside the norm of his schedule.
And this heaviness makes him irritable.
He plans for these things on purpose. He trains a certain amount of time because if he goes over he's more sore, tired, and uncomfortable the next day. When he goes out with people he feels exhausted and often just zones out the whole time or starts getting frustrated with the touching, the tapping of spoons plates, the amount of people talking in the building.
So after an already bad morning, he stomps down the stairs as if to punish the foot that threw everything off this morning. He drops his bag off at the table, and immediately goes to get his shaker bottle and protein powder.
He does the normal flow of filling his bottle with water to the line he marked for the correct amount of ml before opening the cabinet to get his mix out.
It's not there. He tries to think if he put it on another shelf and even throws his pride away for a second to ask Shoji to glance at the top shelf for his protein.
“I don’t see it, Bakugou. You can use mine if you want, and I’m sure Kirishima would let you use one of his powders since he has multiple flavors.”
Bakugou takes a deep breath. It's not even 7am yet. He needs to breathe and not blow up at someone trying to help him.
“Thanks, but I want just my protein powder. I’ll figure out something else.”
There lies the issue. He can’t figure out what to have. He only drinks protein shakes for breakfast, and now eating meals this early in the morning will make him nauseous. He also only likes HIS protein powder.
When Shoji leaves the kitchen he throws his cup in the sink with a little more force then necessary and gets some water flung back into his eyes and uniform.
He grips his uniform until his knuckles go white. His body shakes trying to contain his frustration. His eyes water for a second trying to bottle everything down, so he doesn’t explode on someone for something they didn’t do.
“Kacchan! Goodmorning!”
Oh shit.
“Morning.” He honestly feels proud of himself for the response.
“Oh, you're wet? Did you know that?” Midoriya questioned.
Well no fucking shit hes wet. AND YES OF COURSE HE FUCKING KNOWS HES WET- calm down katsuki. We go to fucking therapy. Breathe.
He grits his teeth and glares at his childhood friend.
“Deku. Do you think I didn’t fucking know? Leave me alone for today before I blow your head off.”
Good. He set a boundary.
“Ohhhkay. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. You're grumpy.”
The little shit was looking to be beat up this morning. Sparks flew from his palms and an angry huff came from him.
“Yes, because your annoying voice is talking to me before I can wake up. So please shut. Up.”
With success, Midoriya finally backed off after rolling his eyes at the blonde.
Okay, so no breakfast. That's fine. He has time before lunch to try to accommodate the difference in protein. But what if he can’t find the bottle? It's essential for the rest of the week. Sure he can sacrifice one day of not meeting his daily protein goals and he's already accepted that today is not his day, but it could throw off his whole week.
Breathe. In and out.
“Oh kitty kat! You look a little frustrated? Something wrong?”
Now another peppy smiling face looking at him. Mina walked over to start fixing her own breakfast and looked back at him for an answer.
“My protein powder is gone.”
He felt like a little kid telling their mom they were throwing a temper tantrum over a small tear in their drawing. A big reaction over something so little. Something thats usually fixable.
“Oh really? Well did you look everywhere? Sometimes mine gets pushed to the back. I steal some of Kiri’s mix all the time, so I don’t think he would mind if you have some of his. I would offer mine, but I just ran out.”
He was glad she was trying to help, but no one was getting it. He need HIS protein powder.
“It's not. I looked everywhere, and even had Shoji check. I just want my protein.”
Mina’s mouth twitched at the edges. As if trying to contain her amusement. He's sure she can’t imagine him asking Shoji for help. He actually asks him often because he knows he would never give him shit over it, but no one knows that.
“It's whatever! I don’t care.”
He in fact does care. Alot.
He decides to leave early to study at his desk just to pass the time and to cool his own head in the empty room (Aizawa sleeping on the floor still counts as empty).
He sits and opens his notes slowly rereading information from the previous day, and goes over a few notecards for an upcoming test.
Finally people start to come into class. He can feel eyes on him, so someone must have mentioned his bad attitude in the kitchen. He ignores the looks, but eventually he hears Kaminari screeching his name as he enters the classroom.
“KACCHANNN! Ohhhh sweet baby. I heard you had a little issue this morning. Poor thing”
The electric boy said everything in a baby voice and had a giggle in his tone.
“You are five seconds away from searing the side of your head, Dunce Face”
The idiot laughs at the statement like Bakugou wasn’t thinking about changing his hair style.
The headache from hitting his forehead this morning hurts even more.
“Well let me know if you need help finding your powder. Never know you might have overlooked a place.”
Bakugou glared at him. He literally had someone else check, but hes not telling the other blonde that.
He decides to ignore the others and puts his head down until Aizawa begins class. When he does start class, bakugou goes to look in his bag for his pencil case to write his notes.
Only for it not to be there.
Another thing gone.
He scrambles around in his bag probably getting stares from the people sitting close to his desk.
He hears a muffled laugh and cough, but ignores it because hes too focused on finding at least ONE of his pens or pencils.
FUCK. not again! He needs his pens. He can’t do his notes without them. He needs them.
There are none.
Maybe he left them on his desk? He normally doesn’t take the case out of his bag, but maybe he did?
He feels nervous and frustrated. Everything is going wrong. All of the little comforts he needs are gone.
Those pens are not only expensive, but during break he spent over an hour in the stationary section of a store to find the pen that doesn’t hurt his brain when he uses it. He bought multiples just in case. The pen was perfect. It fits well in his hand, it's heavy enough for him to feel it, it glides across the paper well, and the ink is fast drying.
His head hurt more, and his emotions were definitely starting to bubble up. He rubs his hands together, and rocks himself back and forth in his seat in very small movements, so no one notices.
Before he knew it he had zoned out the whole period. He thinks someone tried to talk to him in between the class change, but he was too focused on the pain in his head and the lack of note taking that would occur.
Maybe Momo would let him borrow her notes to copy?
Midnight comes into the room and he tries to look like hes focused, but he doesn’t have anything to write with so its hard to stay focused without taking notes.
Before he knows it he is getting ready to go to lunch. Between class periods Deku had tried to hand him one of his pencils for notes, but he quickly shoved it away with a fuck you. He felt a burning in his chest.
Jirou leaned over while he packed up.
“Kat, you okay?” She seem concerned and made sure to use a voice that wouldn’t set him off.
“Headache. I’m fine.”
He paused thinking.
“Can you ask your girlfriend for her notes. I need to copy them.”
Jirou’s face stayed neutral and she gave a nod. Understanding that asking Momo in front of people would raise questions on why he needed them. Iida for sure would comment on his lack of notes, and his reaction wouldn’t be good for anyone.
Lunch seems daunting now.
He doesn’t want to go into the room. He knows it will be all too overwhelming now. And the amount of people to set him off will increase tenfold.
He gets a flashback from his childhood therapy. Everyone else can easily walk into the cafeteria, so he can too. He puts his hand in his pocket and rubs the edge of the All Might card. The edge pressing into the pad of his finger.
Deep breath, eyes down, focus on where you're going.
No pressure.
He finally walks into the room. And heads to get his lunch. He doesn’t bother to look for his friends. His target is set on getting his food only for him to realize he hadn’t figured out how much extra protein he needed from missing breakfast. Shit.
He rocked on the balls of his feet and ultimately decided to fish out his headphones from his bag even though they weren’t allowed during school hours.
He felt a flush of relief from the lack of sound when they were placed in, but still felt nauseous from the stimulation, and the idea of food now. Maybe it's from the lack of food? Figuring out what he wants? He doesn’t know anymore.
The burning sensation and nausea feel like one now.
He finally makes it to lunch rush and orders what he originally planned for lunch today.
“Oh. I’m sorry kiddo. That was popular today, and we ran out of one of the main ingredients to make it. Want anything else?”
FUCK.
He actually felt sick now. He finally decided to ask Lunch rush for something basic just to get out of the line, but the baked fish and rice wasn’t what he wanted.
The food choice wasn’t bad, but the frustration of everything going poorly was making him feel like he might be heading towards a meltdown.
Another childhood flashback of his mom holding his arms to his side so he didn’t hurt himself while flailing on the ground came to him.
He couldn’t act like that here. He needs to control himself.
He needs to calm down. He needs to focus. HE NEEDS HIS STUPID FUCKING PEN AND PROTEIN POWDER.
Breathe Katsuki.
The table where they normally sit was easy to navigate to, but he was halted in place by everyone having changed their normal seats. He always sat between Kirishima and Sero. The safe spot for him because the two boys were often respectful of his space and food.
But today everyone was in different spots. He couldn’t even sit next to either boy because they were at the ends of the table.
He felt a shaky rage fill him.
“Why are the fucking seats different?!”
Everyone looked up at him with a confused looked.
“Bakubro we just wanted to change it up cause we always sit in the same spots. Sit anywhere you want!”
Kirishima tried to be a good friend and explain it to him, but it just pissed him off more.
“No! This is wrong. I can’t- UGH! FUCKING FINE!”
He walked to the otherside of the table and sat next to Shinsou who jolted when he slammed his tray down on the table.
“Do I need to move? Or are you going to calm down? Cause I don’t want food thrown at me if Denki says some stupid shit.”
His red eyes glared at the purple haired boy. He bent over a little and tried to pick at the fish on his plate.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. EVERYTHING IS FUCKING WRONG TODAY.
He shook his legs to get some of the excess energy out of him and had to wipe his palms on his pants multiple times.
He made sure to turn on music, so he could ignore everyone. He definitely felt little stares and giggles coming his way after his little outburst.
He felt tears come to his eyes the more he thought about it all, and how he was acting. He felt so goddamn embarrassed. They just don’t get it.
He dug his nails harshly into his palm to stop the thoughts and prevent a dramatic episode from occurring during lunch in front of everyone. He even made sure to press the palm of his hand into the bruise that had formed on his head.
Stupid. Can’t make fun of Deku if you act like a little freak all the time.
Normal. Normal. Normal.
Just act like everyone else. They can deal with it so you can too.
The urge to go back to his room, crawl under covers to hum and rock himself in the darkness is extremely appealing. But he can’t do that over such trivial matters.
He felt Shinsou look at him more than a few times before he got a light tap on the table in front of him to get his attention.
He looked up at him.
“Want my vest?”
He looked at the taller boy confused.
“Why would I want your fucking vest?”
Shinsou ignored the attitude and responded.
“Its a weighted vest. I keep it for my anxiety. You seem like you might need it. Jirou said you had a headache too.”
Bakugou was in between yelling at him and storming off, but decided to rein it in.
“I don’t have anxiety.” he said to him looking offended at the thought of it.
“I didn’t say you did. Anyone can use it if they want to. It might not even help you, but it does help me sometimes. So. Do you want to try it?”
Bakugou just stared at him, so Shinsou took that as a yes and began to grab the vest from a pocket in his bag.
Bakugou took it and looked around to make sure no one was looking at him as he removed each sleeve of his jacket to put it on himself with a huff. Quickly pulling it over his shoulders and zipping the black vest up before quickly pulling his jacket back over it.
He almost felt embarrassed about the relieved look on his face when he put it on.
It felt good. Like when he would wrap his arms around himself and squeeze when everything didn’t feel right. Or when he would roll himself tight in a heavy comforter during the winter. It felt like a hug, but without the crawling sensation he gets when hands are touching him.
He felt a little calmer with it on. Like the weight of the vest was helping contain the frustration, anger, and helplessness that was starting to overflow in him.
He gave a quick thank you to Shinsou, and received a nod back. The other boy looked slightly proud of themselves for helping him.
The rest of the day wasn’t much better. He still couldn’t take notes. The overhead lights had a slight flicker to them which made his nausea come back, and had him shivering and rocking in his seat.
He had to remove the vest during training to get his . He was just happy to have made it through everything.
When everyone started changing into their clothes after showering, he tried to discreetly hand back the vest to shinsou without anyone noticing, but the resident pikachu seemed to take notice.
“Ooooh. Secret notes? Drugs? What you got there, kitty kat?”
Bakugou glared at him and shoved the vest into Shinsou’s hands.
“Its fucking nothing.”
“Oh really. Looked like something. You've been a little grumpy cat all day. Didn’t think your protein shake would throw you off that much.”
He hardened his glare. It wasn’t just that. This morning, his missing pen and protein, his shit lunch, the seating arrangement. It's all been wrong.
“Denki. You’re not helping. Go get changed.”
Shinsou looked back at the frustrated blonde and could tell that he just backed off of the idea of using the vest in the future.
“If you ever need the vest again just let me know. Or I can send you the link to where I got mine from.”
He didn’t respond. Instead choosing to huff and walk away. After the training, lack of food, and bruised forehead his headache was becoming more and more intense. The afternoon of training being done meaning he can easily slip away from his friends and focus on himself.
He walked with purpose through the campus ignoring any calls of his name. He glared and snarled at anyone that even looked at him or brushed him.
Every noise, Every touch, The light. Everything was too much now.
Everything felt intense and he wanted it all to stop.
If he could pluck his eyeballs out, stuff his ears, and shut off his nervous system he would.
The lack of the vest around him made him feel too open. Like he wasn’t fully covered and he could feel the fabric of his clothes move against his skin. The edge of his pants rubbing at his hip. A fold in his shirt. He wants everything off and also as tight as can be at the same time.
He felt every swell up inside him again. The breathing wasn’t working and the vest wasn't there to literally weigh him down. As he zoned in on the view of their dorms he thought about all the notes he had to catch up on from not having his pen in class. His headache throbbed and the stress grew and grew. He stomped harder as he came up to the door and it refused to open with ease.
His vision blurred as explosions came from his hands. His own voice cracked as he screamed from deep in his throat in anger. Finally throwing the door open, he bee-lined for the stairs. He normally would take the elevator, but he wanted to be in his room as quickly as possible. Plus he knew something would go wrong with the elevator as soon as he steps inside.
Finally able to open his door after almost sprinting down the hall, he slammed his bag on the ground and flung himself onto the bed. One deep breath to take in the silence, darkness from having one of his blinds drawn, and the lack of people.
Peace.
He slowly pushed himself up, and pulled off his clothes to fit himself into better more comfortable clothes. He changed his shirt to a sleeveless compression shirt, and changed his pants into oversized sweats. He brushed his hair out of his face and finally took a look at himself.
He looked exhausted.
The bruise on the edge of his hairline expanded to his eyebrow and had varying shades of blues, purples, greens, and yellows. He also had a new cut on the side of his chin where Ochako nicked him during training. He made sure to put some ointment on the cut and bruise before taking two painkillers with his almost empty water bottle.
He set a timer on his phone for an hour before grabbing his sheets and rolling himself tightly in them. The fabric was cool to the touch and felt nice against his cheeks.
He felt like he could breathe again.
His time laying silently in his bed with his eyes closed felt like only a few minutes before his alarm went off.
He once again dragged himself out of bed and went to slip on his indoor shoes. He thought the time in his room had helped dull the pain in his head and the weird feeling that has been bubbling in his chest, but as soon as he stepped out of his room the harsh light flooded his vision, and yelling from the common room could be heard from up the stairs.
He sighed at the noise, but he had already been assigned dinner duty with Tokoyami. So he heads downstairs and braces for the noise behind the doors. Instantly regretting not having his headphones to muffle it all.
The noise was already making his head pound worse then early in the day, but the rush of the Bakusquad running at him quickly pushed that pain aside.
“SUKI BABY! Are you okay? You stomped off and didn’t come down?”
Mina held both his arms checking him over, but he yanked them out of her grip.
“Kacchan! You’ve been grumpy all day. Someone hasn’t had a chill pill yet for sure.”
The yellow haired boy was asking for it that day.
“Bakubro is fine. We know you had a headache and hope you are feeling better!” Kirishima said from the other side of him.
Once again, their friend group was quick to redirect his attention away from his source of anger.
“Move, I have dinner to cook. You little shits aren’t helping either after the disaster last time.”
“Hey I’m a decent cook.” Sero argued back.
“Not when your attention span is being used up by that half and half bastard over there. Drool somewhere there isn’t food.”
Sero was left mouth open, unable to answer back as the hothead pushed past the group.
Two members of the group followed him into the kitchen despite his warning.
“I told you shit stains to go somewhere else. Or can you not hear me?”
Shinsou looked wearily at him before glancing at the redhead that entered the room with him.
“We just wanted to check on you. Today seems like a bad day for you. I have the vest if you want it?”
Bakugou gripped the counter and sighed.
“I don’t want your pity and I don’t need your stuff.”
Kirishima finally spoke up “We don’t pity you. We just know there are ways we could help you feel better. Let us do that, so the rest of the evening isn’t too bad.”
Shinsou nodded along.
“NO!” He slammed the cutting board onto the counter. “I’m fine. I can handle myself. It's just stupid shit anyways… that I just need to get over.”
The two boys took the hint and backed off. Not wanting to push him too much.
Offering help to Bakugou was like reaching your hand out to a kitten thats backed into a corner. They will hiss, growl, and scratch as much as they can at anything in front of them.
Tokoyami walks in to help him at that moment and he is able to focus on the task in front of him. They work on the Katsu Curry in silence with Bakugou occasionally giving Tokoyami directions and explaining how to do things for the recipe.
Bakugou and Sato decided they would make a binder of recipes that each member of the class could pick from, and they would have to help make the food that week. Aizawa approved of it after the 5th kitchen fire occurred, and decided they needed to learn to fend for themselves in the kitchen.
While cooking, Bakugou went to find the Golden Curry. It wasn’t with the spices where he normally keeps it, but he knew it was in the kitchen, so he started opening cabinets to find because another thing can't go missing.
By the third cabinet of not finding the stupid little blocks of curry, he opened the next one only to see his protein powder front and center with the other protein powders.
What the actual fuck.
When did his shit get put back in the cabinet and who is taking his stuff? Almost everyone has a certain powder they use or share with another person, so there should be no reason to touch his stuff.
Turning around he went to go ask in the living room who took his protein powder.
“Who the fuck touched my-”
His fucking pencil case was sitting harmlessly on the table in front of the couches.
He ran over to it to check that it was actually his. The little Best Jeanist key chain marking it as his.
Where was all his shit? Did he imagine it was gone?
What the fuck.
Is someone messing with him? Why would they take his shit. He barely ate today because of it, and couldn’t take notes.
The lid on his emotions was shaking with the rage that was filling it.
He was confused and angry. This isn’t how they normally mess with him.
Did he do something wrong? Maybe he did imagine it.
He felt his face getting red and couldn’t even think about what to say to the people on the couches around him who were glancing at him and his pencil case with little giggly smirks.
Were they in on it.
It honestly isn’t funny. They thought they caused minor inconveniences, but this stupid shit has ruined his whole day.
He stomps of into the kitchen throwing the pencil case at the table causing it to fly off the other end and hit the wall.
He was breathing heavily now and his vision was like little blurry pins. The smell of the curry was strong. The laughing in the living room too loud. He really wanted that stupid ugly vest back.
“Bak- -yo- –kay?” He couldn’t understand what Tokoyami was trying to ask him. The breathing was getting to be too much. He squeezed his eyes tight and covered his nose and mouth to stop his hectic breathing.
His lungs still tried to fill with air, but his own hands harsh grasped caused him to wheeze.
Suddenly he was engulfed in a fuzzy darkness.
He felt weird. His chest was hurting. The darkness felt nice. Like there was a dark wall of water between him and the outside world.
Finally he felt hesitant hands peel his gripping fingers from his face.
The darkness slowly unveiling and creating an opening where tokoyami stood.
“Are you okay?”
He took a minute to register the question.
“I-I’m fucking fine.” he said out of breath.
His chest hurt more then he expected, and looking down he realized his fist was balled up against the painful spot. Most likely he was slamming his fist into his chest like he did when he was younger.
This fucking day has messed everything up.
He pushed past Tokoyami and Dark Shadow who had been the one shielding him from the chaos.
“Bakugou that was-”
“Please! …Just shut up about it. Nothing happened.”
He immediately got to stirring the curry and checking on the katsu that tokoyami had made.
They stood there in silence finishing the food for the class. Tokoyami taking glances at the explosive blonde. Dark shadow poking out ready to jump into action if they needed to.
Tokoyami eventually gathers everyone to get food. Each person getting their food along with a spoon and pair of chopsticks. Once everyone got their food Bakugou finally went to get his. He didn’t feel like fighting the crowd, and made sure to take notice of the people that giggled at the lone pencil case sitting on the floor by the wall from where it got thrown.
He slowly filled his bowl, and reached for his cutlery. His spoons gone. The spoon with his name written on it, so no one uses it is gone. The only spoon that doesn’t make him want to vomit when he puts it in his mouth. The only one that feels right.
The singular spoon that he has had for over 5 years isn’t in the draw despite him having washed it and placed it in there himself. There are other spoons in the stupid draw, but he cant use those. Not right now.
He. just. Needs. The. stupid. Fucking. Spoon.
He whips his head around and scans the table for what he needs.
The top of that jar in his chest was gone after his little episode with Tokoyami, and now this overwhelming emotion that he couldn’t even pin point was starting to flow down the sides and boil.
His eyes find it before he can even register it.
He immediately is reaching across the table and ripping the spoon from kaminaris grasp. The little shit laughing at his frustration.
“Damn Kacchan! Way to ruin my dinner! Did you need that spoon that badly?”
He glared at him everyone else joining in on the laughter directed at his extreme anger over a spoon.
“Why the FUCK! DID YOU TAKE MY SHIT! STOP MESSING WITH EVERYTHING!”
He was seething at this point. His face getting red and his eyes damp with the pressure of trying to control the spewing emotions.
“Bakugou it's not that big of a deal you need to calm down. Honestly you always blow things out of proportion.” Ojiro said.
–
His vision was clouded. And he felt the wetness on his cheeks.
“YOU GUYS- I- … AUGH! FUCK YOU!” it was silent now as yelled at them.
“WHY DID YOU TAKE MY SHIT! FUCKING DIE! EVERY FUCKING THING WAS MESSED UP TODAY. IT WAS ALL FUCKING WRONG. I DIDN’T HAVE MY STUPID FUCKING FOOD TODAY. YOU TOOK MY PENS AND I COULDN'T WRITE ANYTHING.”
He rocked himself in place as he screamed at them, his eyes becoming swollen from the tears streaming down his face.
“YOU DON’T FUCKING GET IT YOU RUINED EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING WAS WRONG. LUNCH. THE LIGHTS. I COULDN’T SIT IN MY SPOT. NOTHING WAS NORMAL. EVERYTHING WAS JUST FUCKING WRONG.”
He had started to harshly punch at his chest as he said his words. Harsh gasp coming out with each sentence.
Everyone was shocked by his reaction. Occasionally they noticed signs in their friend, but attested it to his weird complex he had going on. But in this vulnerable state he might as well had a neon sign above his head saying he wasn’t neurotypical.
Most importantly, he was crying.
They have never seen these types of emotions on the boy. The tears make him look younger and like the child that he is. Reminding everyone that he isn’t just an impenetrable explosive hothead.
“I hate you right now. It was supposed to be normal. IM supposed to be normal. You messed it all up.”
Everyone felt like shit now. Making the one person that was usually a symbol of strength and passion dwindle to this. His little hiccups and stuttering breath pulled on all their emotions.
“Katsuki honey. I think we all owe you an apology.” Momo said in a calm demeanor.
“While we didn’t know the importance of your items, it was wrong for them to take your stuff and for us to be in on it. We shouldn’t have been conducting ourselves in that way, and it was inappropriate to do. I apologize, and you deserved to have a better day then this.”
Bakugou sniffled his headache blaring behind his eyes. A bruise on his sternum now to match his forehead.
The hand that was hitting his chest now rubbing firmly up and down the spot.
He didn’t look up and instead gave a nod.
His yelling took his voice with him, and he felt like he was on the verge of just shutting down.
He flinched slightly at a hand pressing dense fabric into his arm.
Glancing over he saw Shinsou holding the vest again. He carefully grabbed it with hesitant hands.
His body not wanting to even move from the tight press of his arms that he had against the side and front of his chest.
He didn’t want to be in the room anymore, but he couldn’t move his body.
“Kirishima can you?” Shinsou had said, and made a motion with his arms that the blonde could barely see out of the corner of his eye.
Kirishima came over to him and he could smell the strong as fuck deodrant he always had on.
“Hey bakubro. I know you don’t want to be in this room right now, but I also don’ t think your in a great headspace right now. Let me do what you do for me when my depression hits hard.”
That made sense. He didn’t want help, but he guesses its okay since hes also seen the redhead in a similar situation.
Making him food when he doesn’t eat. Waking him up, and getting his stuff together as he slowly pulls on his clothes. Sitting with him in his room, so he doesn’t feel like hes alone in the situation.
They never really talk about it. He knows Kirishima goes to therapy and their are other people in Class 1-a that do a much better job at empathizing and comforting. He tries to help him in whatever way he can however.
So, maybe letting the other grab his hand and guide him to the safety of his bed isn’t a bad idea.
He nods at him and Kirishima does just that.
He kind of loses his train of thought on the way up until Kirishima has him in the room and is trying to get the vest on him.
He finally is able to get it over his bent elbow when he comes back to his senses. He finally stretches out his arms for the other to help him with.
This feels very similar to the moments when kirishima would stare blankly in his room holding his jacket before Bakugou pulled it over his arms and buttoned it.
He thinks that Kirishima must feel the same way he felt in those moments. In unfamiliar territory and confused on how to handle it. A person you know to be strong and independent suddenly acts the complete opposite and becomes dependent on you. It's shocking. Embarrassing. But also they seem to be a good fit for it. Doing what's needed for the other, but not talking and putting a focus on it. Its nice.
He personally hates talking about these things the most. He wants everything to be normal and to just be the angry, pissed off, and strong version of himself. That should be the only version of him anyone should see.
Now everyone has seen him. All the weird parts that the stupid therapy from his childhood drilled into him to stop, hold back, and control. Everyone saw it.
Kirishima pulls him over to his bed and pulls the sheets over him.
He turns to leave but stops.
“I-... I think you're an extremely manly person. You stand up for what you think. You’re smart. You’re the definition of Hero. Heroes need their support however. So, if you ever need support again or one of us to just get everyone to shut up for a little bit, then let me know. Or Shinsou! O-or Midoriya! I know you think he might make a big deal out of it, but I can talk to him and I’m sure he would be a good option.”
He sighed and stopped there to finally leave the blonde to himself after a quick ‘feel better’.
Bakugou’s body felt exhausted both physically and mentally. The soreness from the strain of keeping his body tight together, the bruising on his chest, and the stupid persistent headache pushing him to close his eyes and give into the lull.
-
A soft knock woke him up. A glance at the clock told him it was 10 at night. His headache was gone and he felt way less overwhelmed. He pulled off the covers and turned on a small lamp that had a soft glow to it before heading to the door.
He slowly opened it.
“Kacch- Bakugou. I-”
Kaminari stood at the door. Eyebrows furrowed and looking a bit jittery, unable to stand still.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you to feel overwhelmed like that. I shouldn’t have taken your stuff like that as a joke. It was mean of me. Sometimes my quirk bothers me like that. I can’t get rid of the tingles and it makes me want to scream. So, I’m sorry.”
The boy lowered his head to further the apology.
Bakugou wanted to yell at him, but he couldn’t. The other seemed genuinely apologetic and no one knew about his own issues.
Shit. This is why he didn’t like talking about stuff.
“Its fine… I was given my ASD diagnosis in elementary school. I’m normally fine. I just wasn’t expecting all the fucking changes and don’t like that people knowing all this about me. I honestly figured everyone would probably figure it out because of my inability to understand talking and stuff. Wasn’t expecting that shitshow to be it.”
Kaminari whipped his head up and started to ramble quickly.
“Oh fuck did I basically out you on that? I’m so sorry! I-I- we already decided we wouldn’t talk about it since everyone knows that's most likely what you would want, but let us know if you want differently. I just-”
“Dunce Face! I’m fine now. You know better. Everyone knows better now. I don’t mind you guys knowing about what overwhelms me, but I do not want to have a meltdown in front of anyone EVER. We learn and we move on. So everything is fucking good now. Promise.”
Kaminari looked less anxious now.
“Okay, well if you feel up to it. We all decided to have a late night mario kart marathon, but everyone is required to be quiet and has to silently talk or scream. Again, if you’re up for it.”
“Maybe, Pikachu.”
He looked excited at that response and bounced on his feet.
“Okay! Well see you downstairs if you come!” He skipped off towards the elevator as Bakugou closed his door.
Honestly he felt a weight off his chest at everyone's reaction. As embarrassing as it was, the reactions weren’t bad. No one made fun of him, and they actually took his response seriously. He was okay with this. Maybe he wouldn’t have to force himself to go to events that would overwhelm him. They might respect his need for routine. People might take notice of the things that bothered his senses.
Maybe the therapy was wrong. He didn’t know yet.
The crying could be used to an advantage in the future though. Ways of getting back at Kaminari filling his head.