Chapter Text
I’m a little much for everyone
They’re all gonna watch me disappear into the sun
-Lorde
Bakugou sighs as he patiently waits for his coffee to brew, blissful silence filling the dormitory. It’s seven o’clock in the morning, an hour to go before they need to leave for school, and there are only a few other students up and about. Iida is sat at the dining table, discussing decoration plans with Momo and Uraraka. The table is covered in All-Might memorabilia and red and blue bunting, which they plan on putting up in his honour.
It’s been two months since he died, and three months since Kamino. The show must go on, as they say, so UA has continued to run, and students have continued on like they did before. It’s clear, however, that nobody has quite accepted it yet. Bakugou has barely spoken to Midoriya since, the green-haired boy looking perpetually heartbroken now.
It’s too much for Bakugou to deal with, so he’s kept his distance more than he already did.
He watches Momo, Uraraka, and Iida discuss where the bunting should go with mild curiosity. He understands why they’re doing it, why they feel the need to, but Bakugou still finds it fucking stupid.
He’d never tell them that, though, so he leaves his classmates to their own unique brand of mourning and turns his attention to his coffee.
“Hey, Bakugou!” Uraraka calls out, pulling him out of his stupor as he pours his coffee into the nearest mug. “Do you have any All-Might things you want to add?”
Bakugou glances at the pile, noticing a few figurines that he recognises from Midoriya’s childhood bedroom. He feels a pang of something in his chest and quickly shakes his head before grabbing his mug and disappearing upstairs. He feels their eyes follow him, but nobody stops him.
They’ve been remarkably lenient with him since All-Might’s death. They haven’t forced him into any social situations or reprimanded him for his colourful language, like he had imagined they would when they moved into the dorms.
In fact, if anything, the move has been easier than he ever imagined.
Except for the fact that your childhood hero is dead.
Bakugou doesn’t dignify the inner voice with a response.
He’s always had a running commentary in his head, his own voice pointing out his flaws and errors and forcing him to get off his ass and do some fucking training, you waste of fucking space, but since Kamino the voice has become louder and more aggravating.
He tries to ignore it most of the time, but it’s hard to when it’s his own voice reminding him of his worth.
Couldn’t even show respect for your hero by giving them a token. Absolute joke.
Bakugou sighs.
You have a figurine. It’s hidden in your drawer. What good is it to you now?
He doesn’t touch the drawer, and he doesn’t look for the figurine. Instead, he opens one of his textbooks and begins revising whatever topic he finds first. The rush of information quickly quashes down his own internal voice and he settles into the monotonous rhythm of his book.
*
He manages a mere ten minutes of relatively peaceful study when a heavy and repetitive knocking on his door ruins it. He tries to ignore it and begins highlighting key pieces of information to remember when the knocking gets even louder. He slams his highlighter down, palms sparking in the process, and storms over towards the door.
“Fucking what?!” he demands, yanking it open to find Kaminari on the other side, looking remarkably awake for this time in the morning.
“Hey, Bakugou! I was just wondering if you’ve done that homework that’s due in today because I think I’ve got some answers wrong and I- wait, hold up one gosh darn second. Are you doing your homework now?” He whistles incredulously. “That is not like you. Do I need to take your temperature?”
“Fuck off. I did that work the day it was assigned.”
Kaminari peers around him again, eyes falling upon the open textbook on his desk. “Are you… are you studying? Voluntarily? At this time in the morning?”
Bakugou shrugs. “And?”
“Man, I don’t even do my work in class, never mind at 7am.”
“And that’s why you’re fucking failing.”
Kaminari pouts. “I’m not failing. I’m just not thriving. There’s a difference.”
Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”
He tries to close the door but Kaminari shoves his slipper-clad foot in the way. Bakugou glances down at the obnoxiously pink bunny slipper and then opens the door. To his annoyance, Kaminari’s other foot was wearing a bright yellow bootie slipper.
“What the fuck are on your feet?” The words come out before Bakugou can even consider stopping himself.
Kaminari looks down at his own feet and shrugs. “Well, my mum’s dog ate my other bunny slipper and then I lost my other yellow one, but they happened to be the left and right foot, so I thought, why not mix and match?”
Bakugou stares at the blond, before slamming the door shut in his face and sighing heavily.
“How the fuck have I befriended these people?” he mutters as he heads back to his desk.
You’re lucky you have any goddamn friends.
Bakugou scoffs at the voice in his mind, but he can’t find it in himself to disagree.
Because there’s nothing to disagree with.
*
Classes go by without fanfare, as there isn’t much fanfare within UA anymore. Bakugou keeps his head down and ignores the incessant requests for help, which Aizawa pretends not to notice, as they complete their latest pop quiz. Despite his study session this morning, he can’t conjure up any motivation to actually try. He messily scribbles down answers, barely thinking about what he’s writing, until the bell finally rings and dismisses them for lunch.
“Bring your quizzes to the front on your way out,” Aizawa requests lazily, barely lifting his head up from the desk.
“Hey, Bakugou!” Kirishima calls out as they all filter out of the classroom. “It’s katsu for dinner today! That’s your favourite, isn’t it?”
Bakugou shrugs, but he doesn’t complain when Ashido, Sero, and Kaminari join them in the walk to the cafeteria.
The students become a bit livelier once sat down with food, but it’s still not enough to shift Bakugou into motion. He listens, somewhat, to his friends’ conversation, until his attention shifts towards the rest of the cafeteria.
He catches a few students looking at him, although they look swiftly away when he meets their eyes. He doesn’t recognise them, fairly certain they’re in general studies, but he knows why they’re looking at him.
Because you did it. And they know it.
Bakugou hasn’t had much of an appetite all day, but the curry in front of him is all the more unappealing now that the voice in his mind has reared its metaphorical head. His right leg begins to bounce, adrenaline building slowly and gradually within him. He recognises the initial signs of anxiety, recognises the developing fight or flight response, but he knows how fucking stupid it would be to react to people simply looking at him. So he stares down at the table in front of him, taking in every blemish and small graffiti he can find, until something clicks in his peripheral. He jerks away from the sudden invasion of his space, finding his four friends staring at him with concern.
“Yo, are you good?” Sero asks. “You really zoned out there.”
Bakugou frowns, eyes darting between each person. “What?”
“We’ve been calling your name for like, five minutes now,” Ashido adds.
Kaminari nods in agreement. “Yeah, you’ve been checked out for a bit.”
Kirishima leans in a little. “Are you okay, Bakugou?”
“Fucking fine,” Bakugou answers quickly. His eyes fall down to his dinner, stomach churning at the sight. “Just not hungry.”
“Did you have breakfast?” Kirishima asks.
“Course I fucking had breakfast, shitty hair. Stop mothering me.”
He neglects to tell Kirishima that the breakfast consisted of a black coffee and nothing more.
Kirishima smiles, although it seems to have lost some of its spark since Kamino. “Okay, bro! We were just talking about what we’re doing at the weekend. Saturdays are off for a while now, so we were thinking we might go to the mall soon!”
Bakugou sighs heavily. “We can’t go off campus without a chaperone.”
“No, we can’t go off campus alone without a chaperone,” Ashido corrects. “As long as we get permission from Aizawa, we can go together! We can chaperone each other!”
“Bold of you to assume Aizawa trusts any of us to go to the mall without an adult present,” Bakugou points out.
Sero raises an eyebrow. “You don’t think he trusts you?”
“I got kidnapped. What part of that screams ‘I can be trusted in the outside world’ to you?”
Ashido smirks a little. “You’ve got a very good point. Still, I think he’ll trust us! Besides, we need something to look forward to. Everything’s been a bit… rubbish, recently.”
Bakugou shrugs.
“He didn’t say no,” Kaminari responds. “That means yes in Bakugou language.”
“No it fucking doesn’t.”
“But you’re gonna come with us, right? We need you to be our bodyguard against any scary and unruly reporters.”
Bakugou sighs and rolls his eyes. “See what Aizawa says first, then I’ll decide.”
Ashido claps and lets out a little ‘yay’ as the others continue to dig into their dinner, satisfied with his answer.
You shouldn’t have said that. You’re only going to disappoint them.
He huffs, ignoring the food in front of him in favour of playing a mindless game on his phone while his friends idly chat.
He doesn’t pay any attention to them, and he ignores the sensation of eyes burning into the back of his head.
*
“Hey Bakugou, are you doing anything tonight?” Sero asks as they make their way through the grounds of the school towards the dorms.
Bakugou shrugs. “Gym.”
“Dude you just had heroics class,” Kaminari interjects from behind. “Why would you exercise again?”
“I swear you went running this morning,” Kirishima adds.
“I go running every morning,” Bakugou retorts. “And how the fuck would you know if I went this morning? You didn’t crawl out of your pit until quarter to eight.”
Kirishima shrugs. “I know you.”
Ashido sighs loudly and appears by Bakugou’s side, bypassing the other boys. “What Sero is asking you, Blasty, is if you’d help us with our maths homework because we suck.”
Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Fine.”
“And don’t worry about the gym, bro, because you’ve worked out loads today!” Kirishima reassures. “And besides, it’s not like you’re not doing something productive.”
“Yeah, instead I’m doing the damn teacher’s job,” Bakugou snaps back without any real bite.
Kaminari shrugs. “What can I say? Ectoplasm just doesn’t grab me, y’know?”
“I’ll tell him you said that.”
“Please don’t.”
They make their way through the large double doors into the communal area of the dorms, where Kaminari and Sero begin to disappear towards the lifts.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Bakugou questions, roughly dropping his bag to the floor and making Jirou, sitting on the sofa, jump out of her skin.
Kaminari and Sero both falter, turning nervously around.
“Um…” Sero begins. “Upstairs?”
“I think fucking not. We’re getting this over and done with. Sit your arses down at that damn table.”
Kaminari straightens his spine and salutes. “Sir yes sir!”
“Swear to God I will end your miserable fucking life, Pikachu.”
Kaminari smirks as he takes a seat at the table, as though Bakugou isn’t more than willing to follow through on his threat.
*
The study session goes on until early evening, and Bakugou finds himself significantly less annoyed at the end of it than he had imagined. They make good progress, with Kaminari and Ashido understanding far more about probability than they did before, and they all leave with smiles on their faces.
Yet, Bakugou doesn’t feel the satisfaction he expected to.
He doesn’t feel the pride knowing that he’s just broadened their knowledge and potentially helped them to pass their next exam.
He doesn’t really feel anything.
He should, he decides, go running. He’s already missed his usual routine time and it’s getting progressively darker out.
He’s never been bothered about running in the dark, but he knows Aizawa is watching them all like hawks and he doesn’t fancy being stalked and reprimanded by the man tonight. With a soft sigh, he changes into some joggers and a t-shirt and puts on his running shoes.
For a second, Kirishima’s words drift back into memory. He’d already been running this morning, and their heroics class was well over an hour. He’d been productive from dawn ‘til dusk, so surely he could forgive himself for taking a break.
That’s the fucking lazy way out and you know it. What sort of a hero is lazy?
He goes running.
He doesn’t stop until his legs burn, an ache that he always takes as an indicator of a good workout. With that, he makes his way back to the dorms where he finds the majority of his classmates gathered in the communal area.
“Kacchan,” Midoriya calls out from the crowd, a weak smile on his face and tears trickling down his cheeks.
Bakugou looks at him, and then at the wall that has garnered everybody’s attention.
The back wall has red and blue bunting along the top, neatly pinned from one end to the other. The windowsills are carefully decorated with the All-Might memorabilia from this morning, perfectly positioned. Bakugou frowns at the sight and becomes very aware of a pressure pushing down on his chest.
“Kacchan?”
“Fucking what?” he demands, finally turning to look at Midoriya again.
Midoriya looks at him with wide, watery eyes and it makes the pressure in Bakugou’s chest increase tenfold. Bakugou makes a break for the lift, prompting the smaller boy to follow him away from the crowd.
“Kacchan, are you okay?” Midoriya asks quietly.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because… because I know he meant a lot to you too. And we haven’t really spoken much since…”
Bakugou gets into the lift and turns to face the teary-eyed boy. “I’m fucking fine, Deku.”
Midoriya nods, although the furrowing of his brows tells Bakugou he doesn’t believe him.
It doesn’t matter though because he really is fine.
*
He can’t sleep.
His thoughts aren’t racing. His heart isn’t pounding. He isn’t anxious in any way whatsoever, yet he cannot fucking sleep.
He’s been lay on his bed for hours, mindlessly staring at the stark white ceiling. He can’t recall any actual thoughts that have graced his head throughout this. Anything that does pop into his head is fleeting and too quick for him to latch onto.
They’re also too negative for him to want to latch onto.
He lies there, thoughtless and still, as the hours tick by.
He’s not sure what’s changed, in all honesty. Sleep has never come easily for him. He always had too much energy coursing through his veins, too much adrenaline forcing him to be up and active. It’s gotten worse since Kamino, but tonight seems different. Usually, he can eventually drift off. He may only get an hour or so, but it’s something. Tonight, he can’t drift off even for a second.
Usually he places the blame on that stupid fucking inner voice, or on his thoughts, but tonight there’s no voice and there’s no pattern or logic to his thoughts. There’s no vaguely coherent process to work through that may allow him to finally shut off and go to sleep.
His thoughts are both a mess and completely void, and that’s more stressful than the overthinking is.
He alternates between lying on his bed, sitting at his desk, and working out, until the sun comes up and the birds sing their far-too-chirpy morning song.
His small alarm clock (which has never actually been used as an alarm clock) tells him it’s 5am, and he still has a good few hours before classes start. He opts to go running for an hour, enjoying the freedom of the completely empty grounds, before getting back to the dorms at 6am for a shower.
He still has two hours until class, and he is more than happy to spend those entire two hours in the shower.
Nobody else seems to be awake, allowing him to venture down to the shower room undisturbed and bask himself in the blistering heat of the water.
He washes his hair and body almost robotically until he’s done. The hot water runs over him in blissfully pleasant torrents and he just stands there, revelling in the isolation. The only sound is the echo of water droplets and it’s the quietest he’s experienced in a long time.
In the blink of an eye, the steam from the shower has filled the room and he finds he can’t recall how long he’s been in here.
As sudden anxiety spikes within him, a door creaks nearby and he jumps.
“Hello?”
Bakugou recognises Ojiro’s unwelcome voice instantly, and his blissful peace fades even faster. He turns off the shower and dries himself wordlessly, pulling on a pair of joggers and a t-shirt before emerging from the cubicle. Ojiro is stood by the sinks when he comes out, looking strangely guilty.
“What?” Bakugou demands.
Ojiro shrugs. “Sorry. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Bakugou sighs softly. “You… you weren’t fucking disturbing me.”
He brushes passed Ojiro without another word, although he can feel the taller boy’s eyes fixed on him as he leaves.
He’s getting sick of that feeling.
Real fucking sick of it.
*
The day drags and he has absolutely no willpower to focus, but the opportunity to slack off today has been robbed from him. Aizawa has forced them all into groups to create a presentation about different topics.
His team, consisting of Ashido, Jirou, Ojiro, and Todoroki, are to present a piece about how media portrayal impacts public perception of Pro-Heroes.
Bakugou is convinced it’s a dig at his personality but he just can’t find it within him to care. Not that he particularly cared before about what people think of him.
But now he’s trapped in the library with his team and it’s getting progressively harder to ignore them all.
“I don’t even know where to begin,” Ashido admits. “Academics isn’t really my strong suit.”
“Me neither,” Jirou agrees.
Ojiro smiles. “It’s okay though, because we’ve got one of the top three students with us!”
All eyes fall upon Bakugou, and he glares at them all from his slouched position on his chair. His arms are crossed over his chest, holding himself so tightly he thinks he might shatter if he loosens up.
“I’m not doing all the fucking work,” Bakugou snaps.
“We don’t expect you to,” Todoroki responds. “But I’m sure you’ll have no problem pointing out when we’ve got something wrong.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Todoroki blinks. “Nothing. You’ll simply know when we’re wrong because you’re good at these things.” He frowns a little, his eyes scrutinising Bakugou. “What did you think I meant?”
Bakugou huffs but doesn’t dignify Todoroki with a response. Instead, he straightens up and drags a scrap piece of paper from the centre of the table and begins to scribble down on it.
Within a few minutes, he’s hashed out instructions for each person in the group with their own areas of the subject to study and write on.
“There,” he says sharply, slamming the paper back into the centre of the table. “Research your bit and we’ll fucking put it all together after.”
Ashido clasps her hands together and grins. “I love working with you, Blasty! Guaranteed good grades!”
“I fucking carry you.”
“And I’ll happily be carried by you forever.”
“Eat shit.”
“Oh so romantic.”
Jirou immediately begins tapping away on her phone, starting her research, when she lets out a loud groan. “Ugh we have hero training next.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Bakugou questions, already jotting down some key notes for his section.
“It’s exhausting,” Jirou comments. “And I can’t be bothered today.”
Ashido sighs. “Oh, you see, Blasty can’t relate to that. Blasty could be half-conscious and he’d still be up for a fight.”
Ojiro perks up at that. “That’s a point. I thought you’d be more tired than you are.”
Bakugou raises a single eyebrow, his attention diverted from his work. “Why?”
“Well, I was up early and I’m knackered. You were up way before me.”
Bakugou tenses, suddenly feeling very exposed by the blond. He catches Ashido, Todoroki, and Jirou watching him curiously and his skin crawls.
“And?” he demands. “Is there a fucking reason you’re policing what time I wake up?”
Ojiro raises his hands in surrender. “No, not at all! I… I was just impressed, that’s all. I hate waking up early.”
Bakugou doesn’t respond to that, returning his focus to the work and waiting patiently for the eyes to stop watching him.
Except they don’t because someone behind him is looking at him. He glances over his shoulder and locks eyes with some girl he doesn’t recognise. She’s glaring at him so deeply, so cruelly, that his palms begin to crackle in preparation.
Her head then drops down to face her textbook and he relaxes his hands, heart pounding with anxiety.
Get used to it.
He huffs at the voice and puts his headphones on, hoping to block out the world.
*
Heroics is pretty easy going today. They’re given free range to practice one-on-one sparring or lone training, something Bakugou is particularly grateful for.
He likes sparring, but today he just can’t bring himself to bother with others. He’s already been forced into a group activity by Aizawa once today and he refuses to be forced into it again.
Aizawa asks for hands up from anyone who wishes to practice alone and Bakugou’s hand is in the air before the man can finish his sentence. Todoroki also raises his hand.
They’re the only ones in the class who do.
Aizawa nods, respecting their wishes, and directs them to a separate part of the training arena where they would be out of harm’s way from the others.
Once situated, Aizawa turns to leave and Todoroki frowns.
“You’re leaving us?” he questions. “Unattended?”
Aizawa scoffs. “Not a chance. Midnight will be watching over you.”
He nods upwards, where Midnight is sat casually upon a low-rise false building watching them with a smile. She waves with one hand, a croissant in the other.
Bakugou feels a strange swirl of something deep in his chest when he sees her, the same sensation he’s had every time he sees her since the sports festival. Ever since she took away his ability to speak, to move, to argue about the goddamn restraints.
The anger builds, swelling and heat up deep inside, and he curls his fingers into fists as his palms crackle.
You deserved it.
“Bakugou.”
He turns back, finding both Todoroki and Aizawa watching him. “What?”
“I said you’re not to do too much damage, but if you two do end up wanting to spar, you’re free to do it with each other. Okay?”
Bakugou nods. Aizawa stares at him for another moment, his expression utterly blank yet completely scrutinising, and it makes Bakugou feel exposed all over again.
And then the man turns on his heel and disappears from sight, and Bakugou releases a breath of relief.
He spends the hour practicing small, controlled explosions with the intention of using them to effectively dig people out of rubble.
See, I can be a fucking hero.
If you don’t blow up the civilians in the process.
The thought sends a shudder down his spine and he abruptly stops his explosions, ignoring the tingle in his palms, and stares at the pile of rubble he’d been attacking. There was a small doll under there that he’d taken from the supply room, acting as his civilian.
Images of torn limbs and burned clothes flooded his mind and he swallows down the lump in his throat.
“Bakugou?”
He flinches at the sound of Midnight’s voice, to his annoyance, and he turns to find her watching him intently from her perch above them.
“What?” he demands, not caring if he appears rude.
“Just checking you’re still with us. You haven’t moved for a few minutes,” she comments.
She likes it when you can’t move. When she can control you. They all do.
He doesn’t dignify her with a verbal response, instead huffing and turning his back on her. He can feel Todoroki watching him intently from his place further away but Bakugou pays him no mind.
His thoughts go back to the doll, to the images of its mangled form and how easily that could be a real person, and he starts to feel sick.
Is this how All-Might felt? When he came to save your sorry ass?
The nausea rapidly worsens and he swallows thickly. He forms a circle with one hand directly over his palm and sends a small burst of an explosion at the slab of concrete closest. To his relief, it cracks down the middle but the damage goes no further, and he immediately rushes over and drags one half of the concrete away. He feels it cut into his fingers, notices the sudden bright red of blood smearing across the grey, but he doesn’t focus on that.
He lets the concrete drop, wincing at the shake of the ground beneath his feet, and finally lays eyes on the doll.
It’s covered in dust and grime, and its face is a little distorted from the weight, but there are no burns and no singes.
“Well done,” Aizawa speaks up, startling Bakugou out of his relieved stupor. “For figuring out a way to use a combative quirk to rescue rather than harm.”
Bakugou shrugs. “Be a pretty shitty hero if I couldn’t save people from shit like this.”
Aizawa shrugs, nodding a little in agreement. “I hope you know you’re gonna be practising this a whole lot now.”
Bakugou nods and feels a swell of pride as Aizawa gives him a quick smile before ordering him and Todoroki to join the rest of the class.
“You all did well today. It’s good to see,” Aizawa debriefs, his voice devoid of emotion despite his positive words. “Kaminari, I was happy to see you up your voltage without causing damage to yourself. It’s a refreshing change to see you walk out of here rather than being dragged out drooling.”
Kaminari rubs the back of his head, his cheeks blushing a little. “It’s a work in progress.”
“Also, Bakugou managed to utilise his quirk in a purely rescue scenario, without causing damage to the civilian. It was good to see, and I expect to see all of you getting creative with your quirks to utilise them in vastly different survival and rescue situations.” He nods. “Okay. You’re all dismissed. Go home.”
*
“Hey.”
Bakugou rolls his eyes, reluctantly pulling his headphones off before he could even attempt to put his music on. Todoroki appears at his side, looking completely disinterested in having a conversation despite being the one to instigate it.
“What?” Bakugou questions.
Kirishima, Ashido, Sero, and Kaminari all close in on him too and he fights the urge to run, longing for some fucking quiet.
“You don’t like Midnight,” Todoroki observes.
Bakugou frowns, slowing in his fast pace. “What?”
“I could tell,” Todoroki continues. “The way you looked at her whenever she spoke to you. You don’t like her.”
“What’s this?” Kaminari interjects from behind. “Bakugou doesn’t like Midnight?”
“Bakugou doesn’t like anyone,” Mineta pipes up from somewhere unseen. “No surprise there.”
“Actually I do,” Bakugou snaps. “I just don’t like you.”
He lifts his hands a little, allowing his palms to emit just enough sparks and pops to intimidate Mineta, who quickly appears from his hiding spot behind the group and scuttles off.
“So really, you don’t like Midnight?” Ashido asks. “Why not?”
Bakugou glances at her, noting genuine curiosity and not anger or pity or whatever else he’s come to expect, and sighs.
“I have my reasons,” he answers.
Todoroki nods. “I wasn’t asking for your reasons. It was simply an observation. But if you really dislike her, you could request another teacher to observe you during classes like today.”
“Fuck no,” Bakugou snaps. Because that would be showing weakness, wouldn’t it? And you can’t show weakness. Otherwise, what did All-Might die for? “No.”
He storms ahead, promptly ignoring his friends as they begin to debate the possible reasons for his dislike for Midnight. Todoroki is unnervingly quiet, and Bakugou doesn’t like that.
The moment he’s free from scrutinising eyes, he goes running.
He runs until his inner voice is silenced, until his thoughts stop racing, until the twisting sensation in his chest dissipates.
It always comes back. But for now, with the wind in his hair and a burn in his legs, it all stops.