Chapter Text
The loud snap of a shot glass hitting the granite of the long bar skewered Bakugo's brainstem almost as hard as the liquor itself did. His vision swam but not from the booze, just simple insanity, but eventually it pulled into focus just sharp enough that he could make out the glass as he left sweating atop the bar. It was joined by three of its brothers, all with tiny residues of the potent liquid clinging to the insides. He battled against the urge to order another but noticed the voice in his head wasn’t dead yet so he flagged down the bartender anyway.
At least the trembling in his hand had stopped.
He could only watch on as his mind's eye replayed the scene from just a moment ago over and over like an unending montage reel of his past mistakes. In each and every frame, Izuku’s emerald eyes, his frightened, accusatory, angry, mocking eyes pierced through him like a bullet tearing through flesh.
What had it been? 5 years since he’d seen him? Way longer since they’d spoken a word to one another, that was for sure. Their little dust up outside Nezu’s office in first year had been the last time Bakugo had even been within breathing distance with the guy. And now he was back, back to haunt Bakugo and hang his poor choices over his head like a guillotine, like he deserved. Self doubt and self hatred slowly crept upon him, breathing down his neck and wrapping around his wind pipe, a choking vine that consumed all.
Fuck, I need another drink. What the hell is he doing here of all places?
The ner- Izuku seemed pretty cozy with round face, maybe they were friends or something. Whatever the case, it didn’t really matter. No doubt she knew everything now, which sucked because he kinda liked round face: she was tough. He heaved a sigh and threw back the next shot with intent to kill, grimacing tightly as the liquid fire burned a hole through his senses, just like he wanted.
But he couldn’t forget, not really, not after all the hurt he’d caused. He just hoped his friends would stay by him long enough to cuss him out before they left. Hell he’d take a beating at this point. Anything as long as they didn’t look at him with the hollow disappointment he’d come to dread. His mom had hit him with it first, once she found out all the shit he’d pulled and at UA he’d seen it everywhere, nestled deep in the eyes of the teachers whenever he went too far. Never in the eyes of his friends though. Not from Sero or Mina or Kaminari and especially not from Kirishima: they all trusted him. Tonight however, he had a feeling that might change. They all knew he used to be an asshole to other kids, sure, but by some miracle, they never found out about Izuku, they never found out how bad he’d been. He tried to brace himself from them leaving, but even the thought gripped his heart with an icy fear that suffocated him.
He could feel the curious eyes of the others on him, cataloging his every move but not once trying to stop him from keeping the liquor flowing. Mina and Kaminari he expected it from, even Sero to some extent. But Kirishima had never been one to let him go overboard with the stuff. Not that Bakugo had ever had a problem with stopping, tonight was just a special occasion. Kirishima seemed to have picked up on that fact because he didn’t even speak up when Bakugo ordered another.
“No point staring, might as well just ask,” he grumbled into the glass of his 6th shot. The aroma of the clear liquid alone seared his sinuses and cleared his head just a fraction. Which unfortunately let all manner of memories fill in the spaces left behind. Need a few more.
He didn’t look up, wasn’t sure he could stomach seeing their eyes right then, but he did feel Kirishima lay a bracing hand on his shoulder. For a moment he was tempted to slap it away but then he remembered he didn’t want to be that person anymore. He almost chuckled at the stray thought. It had been a while since he’d been forced to temper himself like that, Izuku’s appearance had rattled him.
“Dude, what…what was all that?” Kirishima asked gently.
“I’m guessing you know each other,” Sero said shortly after, drawing a huffing half laugh from Bakugo.
“You figured it out genius,” he muttered, fighting the involuntary grin as he watched Sero flip him off from the corner of his eye. “Yeah…we know each other. Went to the same middle school.”
They stayed silent, more than happy to let Bakugo keep talking, but when he didn’t elaborate, Kaminari gave a great dramatic sigh and wandered off towards a nearby empty table. Without preamble, he collected four of the high chairs and awkwardly dragged them towards the bar where Bakugo sat, squeaking and rattling as they went. He deposited three of the chairs to Bakugo's left which Mina, Sero and himself promptly filled and left the fourth to Bakugo's right which Kirishima claimed.
“Well, if you’re gonna be all mopey, I’m getting another drink. Hey, bartender!” The lightning hero chirped with a flirty wave toward the woman who’d been keeping Bakugo topped up. “Four more, please,” he hooked a thumb at his brooding friend. “No more for this guy though. Or he’ll probably start exploding stuff,” he tittered.
Bakugo opened his mouth to object but clamped his jaw shut when he realised the idiot was probably right.
So much for the nuclear option.
The new round of drinks came and went in a flurry of quick hands and grimacing faces but even still Bakugo felt no closer to the words he would need to explain. The truths about him that his friends needed, deserved, to know were all mixed up in his head, floating in a sea of intangible sentences and raw emotions. He’d hoped the alcohol would have been enough to unjumble the mess, but that would take some time. The liquor would probably hit him like a brick wall soon, but for now he was on his own.
For their part, his stubborn friends ordered even more drinks, though the bartender gave Sparky a funny look when he tried to ask for the same shot while still gagging from the last one. Eventually though, they’d settled themselves and Bakugo knew it was time for some difficult questions with tougher answers.
It was Ashido who brought it up first, just after slapping the bartop and making an exaggerated exclamation of disgust at the liquid she’d just imbibed. “UGHHHH, I don’t know how you convince me to drink this stuff Kaminari,” she yelped, though the smile on her pink face told Bakugo that convincing her wasn’t exactly a hard task. With eyes screwed shut, she leaned across Bakugo, swiped the beer bottle from Kirishima's hand and took a swig, chasing the harsh liquor with something a bit more palatable.
Kirishima didn’t seem to mind, he just shook his head and laughed. “Easy babe,” he chuckled.
Ashido stuck her tongue in reply. After a moment of gathering herself, the pink heroine slumped back into her seat and promptly eyed Bakugo with curiosity. “Soooo, you know Ochako’s new boo huh? Didn’t seem too friendly either,” she said, quirking a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
Bakugo grunted, not quite ready, but Ashido's black and yellow eyes pierced his soul even with a side glance. She had this uncanny ability to draw words out of people, ones they never really intended to speak and through some unholy power, it worked on Bakugo too.
“I…was an asshole in middle school."
Well, it partially worked on him anyway.
Kirishima chuckled and slapped his brooding friend on the back lightly. Which of course meant it almost sent Bakugo face first into the bar top. “Yeah, for most of 1st year at UA too. We already know that,” he said, grinning at Bakugo's low growl and irritated glance. “Come on bro, give us something to work with here.
Bakugo heaved a deep sigh but didn’t shrug to remove the hand that still clasped his shoulder. Once upon a time he would have lashed out at Kirishima for being so touchy but he wasn’t that person anymore. Besides, if there was one person who’d earnt it, it was Kirishima. The others too but they were never so inclined unless they were drunk. “Not much more too it. I was a little shit and Izuku was an easy target,” he said. He was stalling, he knew, but what could he say? ‘Hey I almost drove this kid to suicide becasue I had a chip on my shoulder and he couldn’t fight back because he’s quirkless’? Somehow saying that didn’t appeal to him.
Oblivious to his friend's inner turmoil, Kirishima just shrugged and took a swig of his beer. “Well if that’s all it is, just go up to him and say you're sorry. Midoriya seems like a chill guy, I’m sure he’d hear you out,” he said with his ever present optimistic tone.
Bakugo snorted at the idea. Hear him out? He’d be lucky if Izuku could stomach being in the same room as him. “Nah man you don’t get it,” he shut his eyes and breathed sharply through his nose, finally feeling just a hint of the alcohol seeping into his weary mind and muscles. Still too soon to have much of an impact but he was getting there. “I made his life hell for years. I’m surprised he didn’t glass me or something,” he chuckled darkly.
Kaminari let out a single bark of laughter. “Who? Midoriya? Are you kidding? That guys like…half cinnamon roll,” he said, incredulous at the very idea of Izuku acting out so violently.
Sharp blades of memory: a phantom pain around his wrist and the scarring humiliation hit Bakugo like a villain and pulled half a smirk from the depths of his humour. “Trust me, he’s got an edge,” he grunted.
Kaminari and Ashido give him odd looks, as if they’d begun questioning just how many drinks he’d actually had, but neither commented further. Instead it was Sero who spoke next in words lined with the heavy sarcasm of someone still unsure if he believed what he was hearing. “So what, did you beat him up?” He asked.
In response, Bakugo's shoulders slumped and he brought a mostly empty glass to his lips to cover the heat in his face. “Something like that,” he mumbled. He tipped his head back with the glass at his lips but was rewarded only with godawful tasting half melted ice. With a sigh he placed the glass on the bartop and glanced at his friends. Half visions of disappointed eyes and disgusted sneers knifed at his psyche but he ignored them, pushing them to the back of his mind where they might do less damage. They weren’t real yet. “Look…” he began, looking at each of his friends in turn, taking a second to actually catch their attention, lest he have to say what he was about to say more than once. “I can’t really get you to understand. It was more than just words and violence, it was… personal. I broke the guy down just ‘cos he wanted to be a hero. I saw this quirkless loser trying to do the things that I wanted to do, be the thing I wanted to be and, I dunno, I guess I just couldn’t handle it,” he ran his hand through his rough hair pulling at the tresses as if they were the threads of the words he was looking for. ”Saying sorry ain’t gonna solve anything. You saw him. Poor bastard can’t even stomach being ‘round me. Not I blame him.”
With every word he allowed to escape, Bakugo sank lower and lower into his seat, his already rock bottom opinion of himself coming along for the ride. Izuku was the one who had to live with the consequences of his ego and there he was, wallowing in self pity about his own behavior. What gave him the right to feel so cut up when he hadn’t even suffered for the things he did? He was a hero: top of the world and still rising further, money, fame, power, and most of all recognition, in excess but somehow he still acted as if he had the right to regret. He didn’t think it was possible to be such a scumbag. The world thought he was a hero? Sure. Maybe as long as Izuku felt like keeping the past to himself.
He pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off the inevitable migraine, hoping against hope that the alcohol would give him a hand sooner rather than later.
The others didn’t respond right away and Bakugo allowed the noise of the bar to wash over him, pulling him away from his own thoughts and allowing him to imagine he was simply enjoying his down time with friends for even half a second. He was dragged out of his lapse from reality when he once again felt Kirishima's solid grip land on his shoulder. It was comforting despite the pressure and Bakugo looked up at his friend to see a smile, small and confused but so very genuine.
“Look man, you’re right. We don’t get it since we weren’t there so I dunno if saying sorry is gonna help all that much. But dude,” Kirishima said, shrugging one shoulder. “It’s a start, right? And from the sounds of things you owe him at least that much.”
“Yeah! Even if he doesn’t want anything to do with you afterwards, at least you can say you tried,” Kaminari chimed in.
Bakugo hesitated, the reply of ‘I’d rather jump off Tokyo tower’ that he wanted to give dancing on the tip of his tongue. Apologise? After all the shit he’d done? He was a pretty brazen guy but that was pushing it even for him. He only bit it back once he realised that they had a point. The cold truth was, he’d done some bad stuff to Izuku when they were kids and Izuku was well within his right to never forgive or forget. But that was just it: it was all up to Izuku. Whether or not Izuku decided to accept his apology, it almost didn’t even matter, Bakugo had a responsibility to offer him that choice. His conscience might never be clean but at least he could say he had the balls to try.
Of course, that was nice in theory but unfortunately, Bakugo lived in the real world and more often than not it wasn’t a place that was kind to blind idealism. In reality he might never make it that far, his pride and his fear were mountainous obstacles, and even if he did get past them, he couldn’t be sure Izuku wouldn’t just break his nose.
Back in that messy real world, Bakugo ground his teeth, feeling the veins on his neck jolt in irritation. Part of him missed being that mindless jerk from back then, at least that guy was immune to self inflicted introspection, laser focused on his goal as he was.
“Yeah, yeah. I heard him the first time, Sparky,” he grumbled, giving shit to Kaminari to mask the doubt that still clouded his mind from his friends.
In any case, whatever the future held, it was blessedly just that: the future. The old him had left him a mess he probably couldn’t clean up but at the very least, the booze and his friends could help him sweep it under the rug for the night. He’d deal with it in the morning alongside his hangover.
Or so he hoped.
“Oh, it's Ochako! Hey, over here!” Ashido called, her voice made redundant by an excited wave and the oscillating noise of the crowd.
At the name, Bakugo looked up sharply, swiveling in his seat and greeted with the view of round face gliding through the sparse smattering of people milling about near the smoking area door. She looked…odd. A strange amalgamation of nervousness and happiness evident in her stride and general demeanor, even at a distance. With a quick wave of acknowledgement to Ashido's enthusiasm, the gravity heroine made a pit stop at the booth, where she exchanged a quick word with the others from class A before turning sharply and walking over to where Bakugo sat.
In an effort to avoid her eye, Bakugo instead let himself be caught in the mismatched gaze of Todoroki who was now looking over, following Uraraka as she walked. Bakugo knew the Icy-hot bastard's placid stare hid a mind sharper than razor wire so he was fairly certain he’d pieced some clues together. Blue and grey needles pierced his skull from across the room and Bakugo was left to wonder how much the other man had figured out.
But before he could think too much on it, a stony visage framed in brunette clouded his view as Uraraka stopped in front of him, blocking his impromptu staring match with Icy-hot. Bakugo only realised when she was right in front of him that he really, really didn’t want to talk to Ochako Uraraka right then.
Luckily it looked like she didn't want to talk to him either as she was doing her level best to pretend he wasn't there at all.
Normally, he kinda liked round face. Sure, she could be annoying like the others and her peppy optimism kinda irritated him sometimes but he knew from experience that she was a strong and driven person, two qualities he admired greatly in anyone. Maybe some buried part of him, the part of him not torn to shreds by the wolf of his ambition, thought it was more than that: maybe her sunny disposition reminded him of Izuku back before…well back when they were small. Maybe being friends with her had been his own scuffed attempt at redeeming himself. Whatever the case, none of that mattered because in that very moment, Uraraka looked just about ready to break something and judging by the way she was pointedly ignoring his very existence, Bakugo was starting to think that that something might very well be his arm.
“Ochako!” Ashido half shouted, half questioned, thrown thoroughly off kilter by Urarakas cold exterior. “Is Midoriya doing okay?”
With eyes that betrayed her upbeat tone, Uraraka voiced a gentle pacifier for Ashido's concern. “He’s…okay now I’d say. He just wants a lil’ more fresh air is all, dontcha worry about it!” She said with a tight smile, one that Bakugo couldn’t help but notice was topped at each end by a light blush on the woman's cheeks. Beyond their normal pink that was. If he was less on the edge of his seat he’d probably know what that meant but he wasn’t exactly on his A-game. What was clear as day to him though was the pure venom leaking from the corner of Uraraka’s gaze, a gaze that was locked solely on him. Her demeanor was the same as it ever was toward Ashido, bubbly and excitable to a fault, but Bakugo could see the hard boundaries of the mask she wore. Cold steel, razor fine and deadly, was cloaked behind her friendly words and softening gaze and Bakugo felt every jagged contour pressing up against his jugular. Against his better judgment he shifted in his seat and tried to stave off the feeling that, with his sudden movement, he’d just triggered her fight or flight, sans the latter option.
Oblivious, Ashido heaved a relieved sigh and slumped in her seat slightly before hopping to her feet and grabbing Uraraka's shoulders with both hands. The ever present excitement that usually dictated her features slipped back into place with ease and she fixed Uraraka with a smile “Awesome! Let's go see him!” For a fraction of a second she deflated, the hyperactive brain she utilised so well in battle dragging her emotions along for a ride they were well used to. “Aww wait, do you think he wants to talk right now?” She asked, pouting a little.
Uraraka chuckled at her friend's exuberance but Bakugo couldn’t help but notice the hesitance in her words. “He…should be okay with that but maybe not…maybe not everyone at once y’know?” She said, striking him momentarily with the body language of a lioness, muscles coiled and brimming with protective instinct. It was clear she was trying to keep a lid on it for the others sake but she couldn’t hide it from Bakugo, not while she oozed such hostility towards him.
Before Bakugo could think much more of it, Sero waved his arm in a placating gesture, readjusting his position on the bar stool to face Uraraka properly. “Don’t worry about it. The four of us,” he gestured to the rest of the guys seated at the bar, including Bakugo. “We’ll stay here,” he said.
Bakugo tried not to take it too personally when Uraraka visibly relaxed the moment she realised Sero had included him in the gesture. Then he remembered he barely had the right to such feelings in the first place.
“Let Midoriya know we hope he’s doing better,” Kaminari chimed in, offering a sentiment to which Kirishima nodded his assent enthusiastically.
With a tentative smile that looked equal parts painful and hopeful, Uraraka nodded slowly. “I will. He’ll be thrilled to hear it, especially from you guys,” she said. She took a deep breath, exhaling through her nose with fluttering eyes and tense shoulders. For a moment, Bakugo thought she might actually say something to him, an idea that seemed to gain weight when she allowed her piercing hazel eyes to pass over him in a frigid once over. But with a final tight smile she turned sharply on her heel and began the trek back through the crowd to the table where the rest of their friends waited.
Half thought words, apologies considered even less so, catapulted themselves to the forefront of Bakugo's mind and with little regard to his own well being he stumbled to his feet, almost taking the chair with him. He didn’t know what he was doing, barely knew what he was thinking either, but he knew one thing for certain. He had to say something to her.
Dammit.
“Uraraka. Hold on,” he grumbled, loud enough to know for sure she’d heard him. Though if he was being honest, he didn’t actually expect her to listen. No, the way he saw it going, she’d flip him off over her shoulder or more likely walk away without even a glance, leaving him there sulking like an idiot while she pretended he no longer existed. Maybe part of him was even hoping that would happen. It would so much easier that way after all, to let things go, to act like there wasn’t a glaring ‘him’ shaped fucking problem in his life like always.
But he should have remembered that he was dealing with Uraraka.
With whiplash speed, her head snapped around to face him, or more accurately to glare a hole through his skull with a cold fire so raw it almost knocked him off his chair. Her narrowed gaze held an anger that was rare for a kind woman like her but Bakugo could barely even notice it behind the drowning spectre of that damnable disappointment. It clawed forth from her hazel eyes and roared at him, confirming his fear that she could barely even look at him anymore. Not now that she knew. It killed him inside, just a little: the knowledge that for someone like her, someone he deeply respected, he would be forever tainted with the inky stain of disappointment.
Suck it up. Only yourself to blame.
Now aint that the truth.
He drew a sharp breath and forced himself to meet her iron stare, pulling his eyes away from her tense shoulder where they’d drifted. “Look, just tell De- just tell Izuku…tell him I said I’m sorry dammit. I know my apology ain’t worth shit but tell him anyway,” he said, attempting slow and measured but hitting closer to frantic anyway, tacking on a quick “Please,” after a half beat of silence.
And it was that and nothing more that Uraraka gave in return for his half formed apology. Silence. Out loud at least. Her round face might as well have been yelling from the rooftops with the bevy of emotions that marched across her features in an erratic flurry. Her piercing brown eyes, moments ago sharp as a rose thorn, were now cloudy with confliction as she stared at him, not once dodging eye contact. Her mouth trembled, caught half way between an angry snarl and sorrow filled frown that fought for prevalence and only succeeded in making her look entirely uncomfortable. She tried to say something, evident by the shallow breath she drew through parted lips, but snapped her jaw shut after a moment's hesitation. Instead, she closed her eyes for a handful of heartbeats, looking almost serene when she opened them again.
Slow and tense, she nodded her head once and glided away towards the rest of their friends, leaving Bakugo once again to stew in his own thoughts, only this time with a strange and profound sense of budding peace. There was no stopping it now. Izuku would hear what he had said and then, the ball would be in his court. He let out a deep sigh, feeling the nagging phantoms of fear and doubt slipping away with every ounce of breath leaving his lungs. Suddenly the barking noise all around him felt like a warm embrace as opposed to the oppression it offered not a few moments ago. He allowed himself to remember he’d actually been looking forward to the night for most of the week, and slowly a small smile crept upon his usually frowning face. A smile he only wore whenever he needed to remind himself that somehow, in sheer defiance of who he used to be, he actually was amongst friends he cared for and who honestly cared for him in return.
He turned to him, his friends, and appraised them all with a brief glance. Sero looked as bored as ever while Kirishima and the dunce studied the back of the retreating Uraraka with a mix of concern and bewilderment. He’d have to give them all more details a little later on, but right then, the only thing on his fried mind was how to convince them he was okay for another drink. That and a sudden onset of a deep well of appreciation for the three of them. Buuut mostly the first thing.
“Dude,” Kaminari breathed lightly. “Why was that so intense? I’ve only seen Uraraka look like that when she’s late on rent.” The lightning user shook his head, blinking slowly, while he reached for his drink.
Kirishima pulled his gaze away from the woman and fixed it on his best friend, concern etched into the corners of his eyes. “Are you alright man?”
Bakugo waved the man's concern away with a flap of his arm using the same motion to flag down the lady behind the bar. The bored looking woman looked up from where she’d been inspecting her nails and nodded slightly once she noticed Bakugos’ lazily held up four fingers. With practiced ease she poured four glasses of the same foul smelling clear liquid that Bakugo had been drinking for a while now and slid the drinks in front of the group. She had the grace to arch an eyebrow in Kaminari's direction shortly before eyeing Bakugo, probably pondering whether or not to uphold the blonde's earlier request of cutting Bakugo off, though she didn’t seem all that bothered either way. The four glasses clinked together as they came to a stop in front of the assembled heroes and Bakugo sighed as he picked one up, offering it to a mildly concerned looking Kirishima. “No. But I’m trying anyway,” he said, before picking a drink of his own and taking a decidedly reserved sip.
Kirishima ignored the proffered drink for a long moment, choosing instead to study Bakugo's calm demeanor as if looking for cracks in armour. A tense few seconds passed before Kirishima heaved a deep sigh and rubbed the back of his neck with one broad hand while relieving his friend of the burden of alcohol with the other. Holding eye contact, he placed the drink on the bar top without letting go of the chilled glass. “Sounds like something a hero would do,” he conceded with a nod.
Bakugo didn’t have the heart to refute him.
“I meant what I said before by the way,” Kirishima continued, not noticing (or choosing to ignore) Bakugo's discomfort. “You should talk to Midoriya face to face. I’m just an outsider here but…seems to me like you owe him that. Might not be able to change the past bro, but don’t let it define you. Gotta do your best to make up for it by doing good now and you could start by facing the guy like a man!” Kirishima gestured wildly with his free arm, his impassioned speech spurring his emotions on to greater heights as a broad grin stretched the length of his face, showing the world a glimpse of pearl razors.
Bakugo couldn’t help the small infectious smile from overtaking him at his friends' words. He had that way about him Kirishima did. His ardent soul was impossible to ignore, especially as his best friend. Bakugo felt as if a broken record was playing an eternal loop in his mind with how often he had to remind just how fortunate he was to have Kirishima and the rest of his friends at his side. Even if it felt undeserved.
The truth was, with the things he’d done, he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel worthy of the hero title. But at the very least, he had others in his corner that did. “Kirishima…” he found himself beginning, sincerely. “Thanks man.”
The redheaded man's megawatt grin was almost blinding, but definitely welcome.
“Well…” Sero chirped to his left, holding up a glass that was already about half way down the road to empty. “That sounds great and all but something tells me we should leave the poor guy alone for tonight. I think Uraraka’ll keep an eye on him for us,” he said, taking another exaggerated gulp, punctuating it with a dramatic ‘ahhhh’ of satisfaction as the others hummed their agreement. “In that case, since you're not liable to blow shit up anymore, well any more than usual that is,” he raised his glass a little towards the others. “Hows about we use our time off wisely and get hammered?”
A round of enthusiastic cheers rang through the small group at the words of the tape-armed hero, even coming from the usually dour centre of that night's excitement himself, though his was more of a resigned grunt.
But despite his less than chipper reply, Bakugo had never been so happy to hear Sero goad him. Any other night and Sero’s little jab about explosive tendencies might have earned the sarcastic man a bruised rib. But right then Bakugo was feeling sappy. He settled for a jab to the shoulder alongside a half cut smirk.
When the rest of his friends picked up their drinks and joined them together in a shower of overspilled liquor, Bakugo was right there with them. Tomorrow, the brooding would come. Tomorrow he’d have to actually address the promises he’d given to Kirishima and Uraraka. Tomorrow he’d have to think about Izuku without the crutch of alcohol and the shock to insulate him from himself. Tomorrow. But it wasn’t quite tomorrow yet and Bakugo would forever be grateful that he had his friends to keep him company until it was.
Tomorrow felt a little more manageable with them around.