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Chapter Text

 There had always been some sort of tension between the two. Katsuki Bakugou and Izuku Midoriya. Fire and air, crash and calm—like opposite ends of a magnet drawn too close for too long. It wasn't just rivalry. It wasn't just history. It was something tighter, something breathless, something that made silence between them feel heavier than shouting. Every glare Bakugo threw across the dorm room, every quiet glance Izuku thought no one noticed, it all built and coiled like a storm waiting for the right moment to break.

Izuku Midoriya is not what anyone expects of a hero. Small, nervous, constantly second-guessing himself, he wears his heart far too close to the surface. But beneath the trembling hands and muttered notebook entries is a storm of determination that refuses to die, no matter how often it’s beaten down. He was born quirkless in a world where powers define worth. It didn’t stop him. It didn’t even slow him down. He’s the boy who watched the world from the sidelines — and still believed he could join it.

Katsuki Bakugo on the other hand, is what the world expects. Sharp, loud, brilliant in all the dangerous ways. Perfect. His quirk came early and strong, explosions from his palms like fireworks and fury. Confidence has long since curled into aggression, but beneath it all is a fire burning too bright, fueled by fear, pride and something he refuses to name. He hates weakness. Hates pity. And above all, he despises Izuku Midoriya- because Izuku never learned to stay down.

Ever since childhood, Bakugo and Midoriya always had some sort of connection- negative or positive. Everyone could tell, even if they acted like enemies now. As kids, Katsuki would always be around Izuku and his mom. Inko Midoriya— Izuku’s mom— used to adore the kid. Used to. Yes, even as a child, Katsuki had been a total jackass, but Inko took that as “typical child behavior” even if she raised her Izuku to be completely opposite.

When Katsuki would bully Izuku, the boy never admitted to his mom who it was that was giving him black eyes every week, and who was making the boy so melancholic that he would stay in his room every minute of the day he wasn’t at school, only leaving to eat dinner occasionally, mumbling a few words to his mom about him being perfectly fine, before going straight back to his room—but Inko knew. Inko knew that this was Katsuki’s doing, and she knew that Izuku was letting it happen because he hoped that the blond would change his ways and become friends with him. Obviously, Inko was very worried by this but after he left middle school, she saw conspicuous change in the boys actions, and once he gained his quirk, she became closer than ever with the boy.

Inko was happy for her son, of course she would be, but she still felt a shift in everything that her son did. He would get stressed out more easily, have trouble concentrating, and he became more scared to express himself how he had done before. The woman knew that the boys childhood friend had something to do with this, as she had seen it first-hand, but Izuku kept just telling her it was fine and Kacchan didn’t mean it how she was taking it. That was a lie. Izuku knew it was a lie. Inko knew it was a lie. Yet, neither of them did anything about it except keep their feelings to themselves.

They rarely spoke about Katsuki, it was a “touchy” subject for the green-haired boy, and Inko never pushed her son whenever he would turn the conversation down. However, in compete honesty, Inko missed having Katsuki around. She hadn’t understood why the boy stopped coming over, or why the boy had bullied Izuku for years on end, but she knew one thing: she would never forgive him for it. For crushing her poor baby’s heart, causing him to suffer, and despite this, Izuku still admired him. Inko genuinely didn’t get it, but for Izuku’s sake, she never asked.

As of current, they were in their second year at U.A high school, still enemies but not as bad as their first year. Oh god, that brings pain every time Izuku even thinks about what happened in that year. He wouldn’t exactly say Bakugo likes him at this point in time, but they’re headed somewhere, they’re warming up to each other — he just doesn’t know how far along the line that somewhere goes, but it’s not bad.

By the time Izuku arrived at U.A. High school, a flurry of voices and early morning sunlight welcomed him. He slunk into the courtyard, invisible among the laughing groups of his classmates. His eyes, green and earnest, scanned the crowd until they landed on the usual sight, Katsuki Bakugo, striding across the asphalt with a swagger in his step.

Katsuki was undeniably the center of the morning hubbub. Students parted respectfully as he passed by. His spiky blond hair seemed almost to crackle with energy of its own, and his sharp crimson eyes sought out any challenge. Handsome and athletic in his uniform, he moved with explosive confidence.

Izuku's stomach twisted. Despite the distance between them now, Izuku admired that confidence like a distant star. He remembered when he himself had thought he could be just like Bakugo. But as he watched from the far corner of the yard, the sight stung, the cocky, cruel grin that Bakugo shot at someone clearly being scolded showed the crueler side Inko Midoriya had never seen.

Izuku admired Katsuki, how athletic he was, how he always kept up with school work (not that Izuku did terrible, Katsuki just always seemed to be somehow better) excelling in math particularly, and how he always seemed to stick out amongst everyone else. It always seemed as if there was an inexistent spotlight on him wherever he went. 

In the boys eyes: Kacchan was breathtaking. Astonishing. Amazing. Kacchan was everything Izuku had ever dreamed to be since childhood, and he idolized him so greatly that it hurt, especially since in return, the blond would torment him. Yet somehow, despite this, that feeling of compersion overtook his pain. He felt so, so happy for Kacchan and what he had accomplished, and he found it so astonishing that Bakugo never, ever gave up. No matter what anyone said to him, no matter what looks he got, he persevered and never looked back.

The bell rang suddenly, sending echoes through the brick halls, interrupting Izuku from his thoughts, and only then did he realize he must have been staring for a while. Clutching his books to his chest, Izuku headed toward his homeroom with hunched shoulders. The room was nearly full by the time he arrived, everyone chatting about weekend plans and midterms. When he slid into the last empty desk at the back, he felt a few eyes flick to him and then away, uncomfortable with his silence.

The classroom felt a little too small, closing in on him. Izuku pressed back against the wall of his chair, listening to his own shallow breathing. Sunlight through the blinds cast stripes across his desk, but they couldn't penetrate the shadow he felt in his chest. Directly behind him, sat Katsuki Bakugo, glaring at him so harshly you would have thought they could cut glass. For some odd, twisted reason, Katsuki would always look at him that way. As if he was alien, as if he didn’t belong. 

As the teacher took attendance, Izuku's thoughts drifted back to the past, 10 years ago. He remembered sitting next to Bakugo under the cherry tree of Izuku’s front yard, both of them dreaming of becoming heroes. Izuku would lay down on his front in his All-might onesie , pen and paper in hand as his legs dangled mindlessly in the air. Katsuki sat back against the base of the tree , legs outstretched and arms crossed, tapping his pen on his thigh deep in thought.

They would talk for hours, losing track of time every time. He remembers how Mitsuki Bakugo and Inko Midoriya would spend that time chatting inside while sipping on coffee, staring out towards their kids in awe at how genuinely happy they looked. Every time Katsuki and Izuku would do this, their parents would have to beg and tempt them to come inside when it would get dark, as nothing could tear the two apart. They were inseparable. In those days, Bakugo's laugh had filled the air like music, and Izuku believed with all his heart that there was nothing Katsuki couldn't do.

But something broke between them, an invisible fracture that neither of them knew how to mend. The second Bakugo’s quirk got handed to him, he desired to outshine everyone; and in his eyes, Izuku’s presence would just drag him down. So he did what most people would do in his situation (or at least according to what Katsuki thought), he tormented his best friend. Turned on him as if all those memories they had meant absolute dipshit to him. Now, the memory of that best friend felt like a ghost that hovered between them, a ghost Bakugo had long ago chased away. Izuku's viridian eyes lowered to the tabletop, chasing away a tear forming at their rims.

Suddenly, Bakugo's voice cut through the stillness of the classroom. "Oi Deku," he called, loud and sharp. "What're you spacing out for? The chemistry lesson started an hour ago, or were you thinking about how pathetic you are?" He erupted into laughter after that, overly exaggerating how funny it seemed to him. Body lurching forwards with every cackle that escaped his mouth. With that, Izuku turned around slowly, looking at him with a furrowed brow, but his eyes betrayed him and showed pure sadness and reminiscence. “Sort out your fucking eyes, they piss me off. So much fucking emotion, grow the hell up.” He scoffed.

Okay, so maybe they weren’t warming up to each other as much as Izuku thought and hoped. There was definitely some sort of progress though.

A hush fell in the back of the class. Izuku's heart hammered painfully in his chest. He recognized that nickname "Deku", once a plush toy, his mother's affectionate joke at his baby clumsiness, now twisted by Bakugo into a cruel weapon. Bakugo knew this, and he used this to purposefully anger Deku. 

All eyes turned towards Izuku. Heat blossomed on the back of his neck and cheeks. No one was looking at the smart, brave boy he could be. They were looking at the trembling shadow of the boy he was now. Arguably, the only favorable aspect about him was his body. His frame had filled out over the years. Broad shoulders, not overly wide but sturdy and well-formed, tapered into a narrow waist, giving him a naturally athletic V-shape.

Along his arms stood dense, compact biceps, the kind of arms that hinted at restraint. He didn’t flaunt them, but you could tell that if he tried and if he wanted to, he could beat someone up. There was power in his core too. His stomach was flat, his midsection tight, clearly maintained with rigorous training. He didn’t have a flashy chiseled six pack but the muscle was there, hard-packed and steady, shaped more by function than vanity. 

Despite this, Izuku had a softness to his face still. His eyes were the most striking feature, a deep forest green ringed with darker hues, constantly shifting with emotion. Long lashes framed them, naturally thick casting delicate shadows onto the tops of his cheeks when he looked down. His gaze held a warmth that made people pause, there was never anything cold or distant about the way he looked at the world. If anything- it was the opposite. His eyes were open, vulnerable , land endlessly observant and aware of others. His nose was small and gentle in its curve, balanced and fitting neatly with his other features.

It crinkled when he smiled widely or laughed often alongside the slight scrunch of his eyes. His lips were full, soft in colour, and subtly parted when he was thinking. His jawline was faintly defined, just enough to hint at his age and strength, yet still gently curved rather than sharp. His skin though had a natural glow to it, healthy and smooth. Freckles dotted his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, small and sun-kissed, a dusting of boyhood he never outgrew. His hair, emerald green, tousled, forever untamed framed it all like wild ivy, curls falling across his forehead in uneven tufts. 

He stood quickly, hair falling into his eyes, clouding his vision slightly, nearly dropping the textbooks in his arms. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered, fumbling over himself in front of everyone. "I-I was just thinking about the work. Why do you care so much anyway?” He shot back, angry at how pathetic he sounded trying to stand his ground. 

Bakugo scoffed. “ Pfft. I don’t, your presence is just fucking irritating.”

”Yeah okay sure.” Izuku muttered, sick of how Bakugo always tried to wear him down. 

To that, Bakugo abruptly slammed his fists onto his desk and cacophonously pushed his chair backwards, leaning forward and kicking Deku’s chair with such power he yelped and nearly fell off his chair. “The fuck did you just say? Go on, speak louder so everybody can hear you if you’re not as pathetic as you look.” To this, Izuku began to push back his chair as well, joining Katsuki.

“Bakugo that’s enough! Language.” Aizawa warned, clear lack of care in his words.

“Whatever. You’re not worth it anyway.” He snickered, climbing back into his seat.

Most of the school knew about the tension between the two of them. Their friends were friends with each other, but they always kept their distance when either Bakugo or Izuku were around — like two opposing teams. There would be some exceptions though, like at massive hangouts or parties. Not that Izuku would go to that many.

Invites would come round to him every so often but not often enough or as often as it did for his friends. Plus, his mom was quite over-protective anyway, and she would constantly worry about him, even if she didn’t have enough of a good reason to do so. Izuku didn’t remember when this started, the overprotective stuff, but what he did know was that it wasn’t exactly fair and it was restricting him from simple basic gatherings. 

On the other hand, Katsuki had everything a teenage boy could ever want. He had a good friend group, he was smart — top of his class even. He was athletic and extremely strong, incredibly popular as well, even if it wasn’t in the best way, he was still prestigious. So due to this, Izuku was comparable. He did have a good friend group and was doing outstanding in his classes, but he was no where near as well known or as athletic, which caused Izuku to inescapably adore the boy.

After class, the green-haired boy dawdled through the corridors, a single headphone in his ear. He was the kind of boy that didn't have much to do in his free time. In fact, he usually spent it observing others such as Bakugo who he always admired for his characteristics. So when he turned the corner, taking him to the outside corridor where he was met with the glass window of the gym, he saw Bakugo. Who he stared down at, taking in his presence. What he was doing and how effortlessly he was doing it. A hint of jealously and awe hit him at once. The 6 foot 2 athlete stood tall, lifting weights heavier than his body weight effortlessly. Oh how Izuku admired him.

There he was, Katsuki Bakugo. Clothed in dark low rise sweatpants, a black lululemon t-shirt that would slightly pull up every time he would lift a weight and dark gray boots with orange laces. Down by his right foot, on the floor was a green rectangular JBL speaker which played “Let down” by Radiohead quite loudly, so loud Izuku could hear from behind the glass. He caught himself removing his headphone from his ear and tapping his foot slightly to the beat, subconsciously, lost in admiration.

Katsuki suddenly glanced up, causing Izuku to turn red, flushing with embarrassment. He coughed slightly in a way to cover up what he was doing, shuffling his feet and standing tall, looking away as if he didn’t even notice Katsuki presence. Kacchan knew better, catching sight of the green-haired boy staring straight at him , and the boys lips parted ever so slightly in shock. 

Bakugo responded by rolling his eyes and standing up, hips unintentionally thrusting forward as he pushed himself up from his mid-squat, away from the weights. He abruptly walked over to where Izuku was standing just outside the gym window by the door. With that, Izuku turned around with shame, about to walk away when the blond one called out to him. 

He cupped his hands around his mouth as he yelled, "Oi, Deku."

Izuku hesitantly turned, clearly shameful and annoyed. "Mhm?" he regretfully responded, carefully turning towards him. 

"When will you ever stop stalking me, huh nerd?" Bakugo asked as he grinned, that same smirk he always had plastered on his face any time he was speaking to Deku. "I see you. What? You think I'm fucking blind? You think I'm really that oblivious to not see you always staring?", he scoffed "Pathetic."

All Deku could do was stare. He couldn't find the right words to respond with. I guess he didn't realize how obvious he was, always staying behind after the final period ended, always lingering the halls,  as if searching for someone.

"I'm not stalking you , Kacchan.” He sighed with outright annoyance. He was the only one who called him that. It was his childhood nickname for his best friend before things took a turn, but even after that, he had never said Bakugo’s name out loud. It wouldn’t feel right, and if he was being honest, he didn’t remember ever calling Katsuki his first name, he had always been “Kacchan” to him. Izuku was grateful that Bakugo never questioned him on it or told him to stop calling him that. “I just sometimes happen to catch you and then get amazed at how effortlessly you do things, and how strong you are, how talented—"

"Spare me the obvious, dumbass" Bakugo barked, clearly irritated. "I don't have time for this, now fuck off and don't even think about disturbing my peace again,” he sighed in annoyance before lowering his angry tone to a more serious and slightly more gentle one, “Also, Kiri wants to know if you’ll be sitting with Ochaco on the coach for the trip.”

Izuku nodded too quickly, almost too many times. "I- o... okay, I’m not sure, I’ll talk to him,” and with that, he spun round and briskly walked away , head hung to the ground as per usual, slipping his earphones back into his ear, as he flicked through Spotify to find the song he heard Kacchan play on his speaker.

His walk home wasn’t long whatsoever, about a 15 minute walk on a good day. As he strolled through the quiet town of Musutafu, the sun shone brightly in his eyes, almost blinding. He lifted his hand to shield his face from the sun, groaning slightly. He sauntered through the streets, he stared up at the towering buildings that surrounded him. It was about 32 degrees, and Izuku could barely stand the heat, sweating like a pig. Every few minutes, he had to stop for a second and crouch down, hands on his knees to catch his breath, before continuing his walk home.

The house stood with quiet dignity, nestled in a modest suburban neighbourhood where the streets were lined with trimmed hedges and the soft hum of everyday life. It was a basic two-story home, painted a gentle shade of cream which caught the late afternoon sun and glowed faintly gold. The porch was small but sturdy, raised slightly with three stone steps leading to a scarlet front door. A hanging basket of trailing ivy swung lazily in the breeze, and to the side sat a pair of rain boots which were muddied and forgotten, tucked beneath a bench scattered with forgotten chalk sticks and a worn paperback novel.

On the porch, sat a white Fiat 500C, which belonged to Inko Midoriya, even though she rarely used it as she preferred to walk. Izuku never used it either, as he had never bothered to learn how to drive, plus knowing his mom, she would have taken a billion precautions anyway.

To the right, stood a large cherry tree in the front yard. It stood tall and wide, rooted in the earth with slow old confidence, its branches still full and heavy with deep green leaves and the fading blush of cherry blossoms. The bark was dark and textured, gnarled in places but strong. From one of the lower branches just high enough to give it a little thrill of danger, hung a tire swing. An an old black rubber tire suspended by a thick rope, worn down in places and slightly frayed, over 12 years old. It stayed almost untouched now, but Izuku refuses to let his mother take it down due to the nostalgia it brings him from looking at it.

It swayed gently in the breeze, moving as if touched by ghost-memories of children’s laughter and bare feet scraping the dirt. The grass beneath it wore in a perfect crescent where the feet had landed again and again. Around the lower-middle section of the tree trunk, slightly scratched, was a poorly sketched heart, the size of a watermelon, with the letters “K + I” and underneath it, the date “8/6/13”. 

Later that evening, Izuku lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, the gentle murmur of rain tapping against the window pane. Outside, lightning split the sky, and he felt a twitch of anger and longing at the memory of Bakugo's fiery eyes, so unlike the storm of the horizon.

The green-eyed boy’s room was small but every inch of it radiated with the unmistakable presence of someone who dreamed big. The walls were painted a warm, buttery yellow- soft, sunlit even when the skies outside were grey. Ocean-blue curtains hung over the two windows, one on each adjacent wall, the fabric swaying gently whenever a breeze rolled through. His single bed was pressed neatly against the far wall, a plain green blanket pulled smooth over it and a single pillow tucked in place.

Just beside it, stood a simple wooden bedside table which held a slightly scuffed digital alarm clock, its red numbers glowing faintly at all hours. The wall closest to the bed was filled with hero posters, layered like memories, some newer and others creased and sun-bleached with age. Dominating the center was a massive poste of All-Might, mid-pose with his fist raised and smile wide. Oh how he admired All-Might. Surrounding him were other pro heroes: Kamui Woods, Best Jeanist and Endeavour, though they seemed to orbit around the image of his idol. 

Across his room, pushed up beneath one of the windows, sat a well-used desk with its surface clean but clearly old. A sleek but budget computer rested on top. Nothing flashy, but efficient with a few hero-themed stickers carefully placed near the trackpad. Just above it, mounted to the wall, was a floating shelf lined with a carefully arranged collection of comics and action figures. The comics swerve stacked with precision, spines aligned and corners crisp.

Izuku knew any normal person would judge him hard for his bedroom, but he didn’t care, as long as he was happy—which he was. Not much changed in his bedroom from when he was a kid, growing up he kept his comic book and All-Might obsession.

Izuku Midoriya's alarm buzzed insistently at dawn, dragging him from sleep into the harsh light of morning. The small bedroom was quiet, illuminated by soft blue light flickering through the curtains. For a moment, Izuku lay still with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling fan as its blades turned lazily, trying to coax himself fully awake. He rolled over and threw an arm over his eyes as another round of ringing pierced the silence. 

A gentle knock came at the door. "Izuku?" called Inko's voice from the hallway. Inko Midoriya was a kind-hearted, nurturing woman known around the neighbourhood for being deeply loving and for her excellent Katsudon. Inko was sweet, yet emotional. She cared overly about her son’s welfare and safety, especially when it came to attending U.A high school. Despite this, she still remained very supportive of her son, and constantly reminded him about the dangers in whenever he would go and whatever he would do. They had a strong bond, Inko and her son, but sometimes they would argue if Izuku would pester her too much about going to a large hangout or party, but things would go back to normal soon enough.

"Huh...yeah, I'm up." Izuku mumbled, slightly annoyed at his mother’s presence like any normal young adult would be. He threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His body felt stiff and the familiar knot of anxiety tightened in his chest. There was school today and that meant news about a new school trip to a training camp the school was exploring ideas about.

Inko slipped into the room with a warm smile, holding a tray with a bowl of oatmeal and a mug of milk. Izuku gave her a distracted smile in return as he tied the shoelaces of his usual red sneakers under the desk. His eyes were half-lidded, haunted with worry. Inko gently placed the tray onto the desk.

"You're quiet this morning," she said softly, brushing a hand through his unruly dark-green hair. "Rough night?"

Izuku forced a grin. "N-no Mom. I just...overslept a bit."

Inko hesitated, watching him. She knew well his troubled sleep patterns, how he often tossed and turned over thoughts of heroes and classmates. "Are you sure?" she asked quietly, worry edging her tone. "You haven't been yourself lately. You can tell me anything, honey."

Izuku looked down at the bowl. He silently spooned a bite, swallowing carefully. "I'm okay, Mom," he said, keeping his voice steady. "Just tired, is all." He knew exactly what she meant. The school trip. Bakugo. New pressure. The very thought knotted his stomach anew.

Inko gave him a tight hug before stepping out of the room. Left alone, Izuku stared at the floor for a few moments after the door closed. There was warmth in his mother’s words, but his mind was already racing ahead to school. The distant echo of Bakugo's smug grin and cruel taunt from yesterday's practice surfaced his memory. Four weeks at camp with him. The entire month of July.

Izuku swallowed and picked up his deep grey hero notebook from the desk. With shaking hands, he flipped through the pages of notes and combat strategies he had been reviewing the previous night. Finally, after gathering the courage, Izuku rose from the bed. He carefully slipped on his shoes and jacket, careful not too disturb his mother's brief absence. Today felt heavy, like a slow march toward an inevitable confrontation. But Izuku knew running away wasn't an option. He opened the door and headed downstairs.

The hallways of U.A. High school were already stirring with energy by the time the boy arrived. A cluster of students chatting enthusiastically near the lockers. The morning sun gleamed off the windows, casting long beams across the tiled floor. Izuku stood off the side as he waited for homeroom to start.  Books pressed against his chest, he watched a couple of classmates practice drills quietly against the wall; some were joking about summer holiday plans, though the end of summer break had arrived not long ago.

The hallway excitement made him more anxious. A stern voice called out, "Uraraka, take your seat!" Some Pro Hero posters on the hallway wall swayed as heavy boots chomped by. Izuku watched his classmates settle down, folding their arms on the edge of their desks or thumbing through notebooks. He slipped into his seat. 

Mr. Aishawa, their teacher, stood in front of the class, tapping a chalk on the desk to get attention. There was an unusual spark in his eyes this morning; he looked slightly more serious than usual as he cleared his throat. Most of the class instinctively straightened up to listen.

"Good morning everyone," Mr. Aizawa said calmly. The din of chatter faded. Izuku thought he looked less tired than he usually does somehow, and he glanced around at his classmates. They were curious too. And then he locked eyes with Uraraka, who smiled at him kindly, to which he responded with a slight wave. This helped ease Izuku worries a little, Uraraka always managed to somehow do that— just her presence helped calm Izuku down sometimes, god knows why.

"I have an important announcement to make," he continued , holding a printed memo in his hand. "The school has arranged a mandatory training camp for your class, starting next Monday. For four weeks, the entirety of July, you will be attending an intensive hero training camp as part of a school trip. All of you will go together, under supervision and faculty, to the Hero Training Facility in the mountains."

Instantly, a riot of excitement erupted in the room.

"What? Four weeks?" A boy shot up from his seat, bumping the desk. Mr.Aizawa cast a quick glance at Mashirao Ojiro , one of the more hyper yet also calm  students, who was practically bouncing in place. Laughter and loud questions filled the air as everyone turned to their neighbours. 

Todoroki Shoto said quietly from behind his desk, "We should prepare our equipment list in advance. It might be strenuous."

Ochako Uraraka beamed at Izuku, bouncing in her seat a little. "It sounds so fun, right Deku? Four weeks of training! Imagine the foods we get to try!"

Izuku smiled a weak smile. "Y...yeah, it sounds great, Ochako." His voice wavered slightly. Every dream about camp now seemed overshadowed by one worry: Kacchan Bakugo.

Mr. Aizawa tapped the desk again, trying to regain control. "I'm sure most of you are thrilled," he said, raising his eyebrows for effect. "This is a great opportunity to advance your training beyond what we can offer here at U.A. We will be leaving in a couple days, so start preparing now. You'll need to pack clothes for different terrains, your hero gear, notebooks, and so forth. You'll be staying in dorms at the training facility."

Suddenly, Katsuki Bakugo stood up from the back row, abandoning his usual slouch. In one swift motion he launched his water bottle through the air and caught it mid-flight with a grin. "Heh. Four weeks of you losers falling behind while I crush every challenge."

The classroom erupted with laughter and playful boos. Bakugo crossed his muscular arms and smirked, letting the attention wash over him. His blond hair positioned in a way that clearly made him look majestic, and beads of sweat clung to his brow, giving him the athletic, confident air he always carried. 

“Tch.” Izuku scoffed, feeling annoyed that only Bakugo could get away with saying things like that.

Some classmates rolled their eyes, others chuckled. Izuku squeezed his hands on the desk, trying to calm his racing thoughts. Always bragging...

Bakugo's eyes drifted from the noisy class toward Izuku. He saw Izuku sitting quietly at his desk in the front row, which he had done this time to avoid getting his chair kicked violently by the boy. His notes in hand and spine rigid with nervousness was unintentionally evident to the blond. A flash of recognition flickered in Bakugo's sharp eyes  as he observed his longtime rival. For a moment, something like confusion flashed on Katsuki's features, but just as quickly he smirked and raised his volume.

"And if any of you loser dweebs can't keep up," Bakugo yelled, voice dripping with challenge, "I'll blow you to hell with my sweat before breakfast! Especially you, Deku! Don't think you're gonna mope around the whole time."

A few girls in the class giggled at that. The green-haired boy felt his cheeks burn and his breathing grew shallow. His heart pounded in his chest. On top of the fear of failing, Kacchan's words stung with a strange familiar ache. The blond always did this, and Izuku never understood why. What was Kacchan getting out of mocking and teasing him? Nothing that Izuku could think of. He wouldn’t go as far as calling it bullying now, because he had changed slightly from middle school.

He looked down at the notebook in his hands, heart hammering so loud it drowned out Bakugo's triumphant snickers. Mr. Aizawa briskly cleared his throat to gaian silence over the commotion. "Alright settle down class!" He declared. "I understand you're excited. This training camp will be an important test of your skills."

Izuku swallowed hard. Kacchan made athletic moves look effortless. He'll be unstoppable, Izuku thought, staring at Bakugo's broad, tensed shoulders and the way he casually brushed crumbs from his desk as if the camp were already his stage to conquer.

As the bell rang for the next class, nervous energy still hummed in the air. Students began packing up their bags and rushing out. Izuku quickly stuffed his notes into his backpack, trying not to be late. 

Bakugo pushed past a few classmates, his voice carrying behind him like a thunderclap. "Quick slacking, Deku. I expect you to practice your weak body well, so I won't have to waste my effort carrying you."

The words cut straight through Izuku. He flinched, nearly dropping his pencil case. Weak body. Carry me. The familiar humiliation mixed with something else, a glimmer of something dangerously close to hope- as if, maybe, Bakugo cared enough to even direct attention to his way. Izuku clenched his fists under his desk, knuckles white, unable to find any reply. 

His fellow classmate Shoto lingered at the end of the corridor with a neutral expression, overhearing parts of Mr. Aizawa's announcement. He wrapped white jacket around himself and glanced at Izuku with cool eyes. " Be careful not to overtrain yourself," he said quietly. "Camp can be intense."

Izuku cleared his throat. "I will. Thanks, Shoto." He found that even the calm reassurance of those around him barely made a dent to his anxiety.

He moved on toward his next class, slowing himself down to think. There were still hours of classes left before the day ended. But every second felt like a moment closer to Monday's departure. 

After the final bell rang, Izuku and several of his classmates headed out into the warm afternoon. The sun had climbed high overhead by then, making sharp shadows on the ground. Laughter and excited chatter followed them all the way to the hallway exit.

Izuku lingered a step behind. Students paired off making plans about who would share bunks, what to pack, and which pro coaches to look forward to. All of it felt surreal to Izuku, like whispers from a world he wasn't ready to step into. A whole month he thought again. Four weeks with Bakugo. He could already feel the day of departure drawing near, each class closer and closer to that moment. 

As he descended the stairs, he suddenly found Bakugo standing at the bottom landing talking to Ejiro Kirishima. His dark red hair bounced as he talked with such exaggeration about god knows what, and his crimson eyes glistened with optimism as he spoke. It was tough because Kirishima also happened to be one of Midoriya’s closest friends, but he could never speak to him when Kacchan was near, no matter how much he wanted to. Perhaps to the others they appeared to be joking around, but Izuku felt his stomach twist as he watched.

Katsuki noticed Izuku on the top of the stairs. The corner of his lips curled into an easy grin. He gave the same easy grin he always gave, but Izuku knew the cracks beneath it from so many past encounters.

"Nerd!" Bakugo called from below. His tone was deceptively light. Izuku froze mid-step, automatically knowing Bakugo was calling out for him.

"Y-Yeah?" he replied, voice caught between nervousness and confusion.

The others fell silent. Kirishima looked curious, shifting his weight and cocking his head to the side as if wanting to follow Bakugo's lead.

Bakugo stepped down one step and crossed his arms. His bright eyes bored into Izuku. " I hear training camp might actually have a challenge for once," he said. "I already know I'm gonna ace it, but what about you, huh? Still planning to fail gloriously?"

Izuku felt a lump form in his throat. His ears burned. He tried to keep his voice steady. "I'm- I'm going to do my best, Kacchan."

Bakugo smirked and tilted his head. "You'd better. I don't have time for you dragging me down." He paused  as if about to turn away, then his eyes narrowed just a bit. "And...Deku?"

The viridian-haired boys heart skipped. He stared up, sighing. "Yes, Kacchan?"

Bakugo's smile vanished; his voice dropped to something quieter, a few decibels lower but still sharp as knuckle. "Don't even think about getting in my way."

He shoved off against the railing, launching himself off the last step and away down the hallway before Izuku could answer. He watched Bakugo's retreating form, shoulders broad and iron-willed, as he disappeared, Kirishima dragged behind him, looking back to Izuku for a split second mouthing a quick “sorry” as he jogged to catch up with Bakugo.

A silence hung in the air after Bakugo's footsteps faded. The noise of classmates drifting home resumed around Izuku, filling the space it had left behind.

Deku's heart ached. He couldn't tell if that disdain in Bakugo's voice was frustration or concern. He didn't know if he was glad Bakugo cared enough to single him out, or sad that he did it only to scold him. 

He shook himself. Don't think about it. Izuku gathered his belongings and climbed down the last steps, pushing the knot of emotion back down.

At home that evening, Izuku slammed the front door shut behind him. Sunlight still lingered on the driveway, painting gold on the trees in the yard. Inko was in the kitchen, humming softly as she prepared dinner. 

He quietly placed his backpack on a chair and tugged at his collar. "I'm home, Mom," he called out softly.

Inko turned from the stove, wiping her hands on a towel. "Welcome back, honey. How was school?"

Izuku paused, thinking. Four weeks of camp announced, and Bakugo's expectation. He tried to force a smile. "School was...fine." he stated.

Inko smiled back, but not convincingly. There was sympathy in her eyes , she had been down that hallway of her own memories and could read the caution in Izuku’s stance. Still, she said brightly, “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Do you have any homework?”

“No, I’ll study for camp,” Izuku muttered. That wasn’t a lie, he planned to review every note he had before the trip. He didn’t want to fail that test, either.

Inko frowned just slightly at that. “Studying for camp already, huh? Well, I’m proud of you for being responsible.” She brushed a hand along his shoulder comfortingly.

He closed his eyes momentarily at her touch, grateful that at least she cared. “Thanks, Mom.”

He moved into the living room to prepare for the next day while dinner cooked. Opening his hero notebook again, Izuku read through a section on hand-to-hand combat techniques. His hands were steady now, the anxiety from the hallway fading slowly as he immersed himself in the pages.

Yet in the quiet of their small living room, his thoughts inevitably circled back. Two weeks away, with Bakugo. The silence was heavy. Izuku glanced at the evening news softly muted on the television a broadcast about UA’s upcoming schedule but his mind was elsewhere.

He imagined the training course: forest trails, obstacle courses, late nights in a dorm room. He pictured Bakugo, dominating every task, fire erupting from his palms at a moment’s notice. And beside him, Izuku felt so small and jittery. What if he yells at me? Or if I mess up…

Still, beneath the familiar fear and dread, there was an unexpected spark in Izuku’s heart. It was a strange mix of something warm and heavy, pride that Bakugo acknowledged him enough to single him out, longing to prove himself, and a hint of something like  wanting to see a different side of Kacchan. It was completely baffling to Izuku.

He closed the notebook with a sigh and folded it carefully into a drawer. In the low light, Inko’s laughter from the kitchen drifted to him. Gathering courage, Izuku walked back to the kitchen table, shoulders squared as best he could.

Dinner passed quietly, but not without a tender smile from his mother as she served him.

Later, as Izuku prepared for bed, the house was peaceful. He brushed his teeth in front of the mirror, his green eyes reflecting tired determination. In his reflection, he saw dark circles under his eyes from anxiety. He splashed water on his face and took a deep breath.

Tomorrow will be another day. He looked away, thinking of the series of school days that lay between now and the camp. Each day he would have to pretend confidence in front of his classmates especially Bakugo and secretly steel himself for Monday’s journey.

Lying in bed that night, Izuku stared at the ceiling again. His mind wandered to Bakugo: the clenching of his fists when Bakugo had left him, the acute awareness of his presence in the hallway. He realised with some shock that deep down, he desperately wanted two things that he had never admitted: one, to prove to Bakugo that he wasn’t as useless as Bakugo believed, and two, that maybe just maybe Bakugo would notice and respect that. Maybe Bakugo would finally see him as more than a scared little boy.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Get a grip, Izuku.

Darkness of the night settled over his bedroom. He finally closed his eyes, forcing sleep upon himself. But as Izuku drifted into an uneasy rest, his final thought was a whisper of anticipation — hope and fear entwined, uncertain what the next Monday would bring, only that it would bring him and Bakugo into even closer, inescapable proximity than before.

Tomorrow, the countdown to the training camp would begin. And with it, the tension between them would only grow.

Chapter Text

The dawn sky was pale as a bruise when the chartered bus rumbled into the U.A. parking lot, engines idling like restless beasts. Nervous excitement and lingering tension thrummed through the group of second-year students embarking on their four-week training camp. Izuku Midoriya clutched his gear bag to his chest, stomach twisting with nervous energy. He stole a glance toward the back of the bus and saw Katsuki Bakugo standing by the door with his arms folded over his chest, the morning light glinting off his sharp glare. Izuku's heart tightened; even now, after everything that had happened since yesterday, the air between them felt charged and ready to snap.

The green-eyed boy took a deep breath and stepped abroad. Inside the bus, his classmates were already settling in. Ochako Uraraka was humming softly as she clutched a mug of lukewarm coffee, eyes bright as she greeted the early morning with enthusiasm. "Good morning, Deku! Isn't the sky just beautiful today?" she beamed at him,  the warm sunlight catching the sparkle in her eyes . The boy forced a smile and nodded, grateful for the normalcy of her kindness. The day ahead filled him with dread for another reason: enduring four whole weeks in close quarters with Kacchan Bakugo.

Shoto Todoroki sat quietly by the window, idly flipping through pages of his hero manual. Shoto possessed a kind of beauty that was not loud or seeking. It was still, statuesque, and quietly magnetic. There was a cold clarity to his presence, as though he had been carved from opposing elements , fire and ice. He was tall and lean, built with disciplined athleticism that prioritised a precision over bulk. He was arresting to look at, a portrait of contrast symmetry broken only by the deliberate mark of fate. One side bore the icy coolness of his mother’s legacy.

Skin pale, almost porcelain with an eye the colour of glacial steel. The other side touched by a flame , was warmer with skin slightly rosier as though lit from beneath, crowned by a striking scar that painted his left eye in tones of angry vermilion. He gave Izuku a brief, encouraging smile without saying a word. Tenya Iida adjusted his glasses with a serious expression. "Midoriya, is all your equipment ready?" I do not want any of us being caught unprepared," he said in a perfectly measured tone. Izuku shuffled in his notes and nodded. "Y-Yes, Iida. I double-checked everything last night." His voice betrayed a tremble of nerves he did not intend.

Across the aisle, Bakugo had chosen the far corner seat as always, as if staking a claim on the entire bus. He dropped his large duffel onto the floor with a thud and peeled off his jacket, tossing it across the seat next to him. The muscles in his neck flexed, and his breath came out in a low growl as he surveyed the others. The confident way he carried himself used to be something Deku idolized- Bakugo had been like a blazing star, everything Izuku dreamed of becoming. What am I thinking? Izuku's stomach clenched. Admiration warred with the sting of resentment. Ever since their bitter argument the night before, every glance from Bakugo felt like a spark set to dry tinder.

He watched as Bakugo reached into his bag and picked out the familiar viridescent JBL speaker he usually carried everywhere he went. He kicked his legs up over the headrest of the seat in front of him, not caring when a student turned their head to glare at him. He proceeded to connect it to his phone with a loud chime, and play “Dark Red” by Steve Lacy, using his fingers as drumsticks on his thighs. 

The bus jerked to life and pulled away, carrying them out of U.A. and toward the wilderness. Through the windows, misty hills and fields of waving grass unfolded under the pale sun. The rumble of the engine mingled with sleepy chatter and the rustle of loose papers. Izuku pressed his forehead to the cool glass, feeling dizzy from both exhaustion and tension. I have to try to stay calm. He noticed Uraraka a few rows ahead excitedly pointing out a scenic overlook.

Todoroki studied a map of the camp area quietly, while Iida muttered a checklist of student responsibilities. In the far rear, Bakugo leaned back, one long leg stretched across the aisle, man spread, and closed his eyes, as if even resting, he was keeping an eye out for anything to snap at. It was clear he was bored.

Chapter Text

Izuku’s legs felt weak as he stumbled away from the wrecked elevator, his heart thundering with residual adrenaline. He still clutched the plastic bottle of Lucozade that Bakugo had given him in the elevator; the cool sides pressed into his palm, a small comfort in the chaos. It was now around 9pm and in the dusky twilight camp, the distant sounds of students calling each other echoed across the pinewood lodges.

Why had Bakugo even given him the lucozade in the first place? Hell if he knew. At least it was improvement, right? Katsuki had seen that his rival was struggling and searching for serenity, and in his own twisted way, maybe a bottle of orange lucozade was like a peace offering? Nah. You’re thinking too much into this Izuku, it was simply just something he shoved in your face to get you to shut the hell up. Don’t get yourself so worked up over nothing. 

He took a ragged breath and coughed softly, as he and Bakugo silently made their way back towards their cabin. Standing in front of the cabin, he realised with dismay that they must have missed dinner due to being stuck in the elevator, as the cabin was empty and he gathered he missed servings and everyone was probably eating already. His stomach twisted and gurgled slightly, it felt empty, lacking food.

Bakugo, the flame-haired and ever-impatient, pounded his fist to the cabin door, noticing the silence immediately. “We blew right into camp and screwed ourselves out of dinner! This is your doing, Deku.” His crimson eyes flashed with frustration and hunger as the air around him cracked with irritation, the heat of his temper shimmered into the humid evening breeze. 

Izuku shrugged apologetically, “I’m sorry I’m sorry but it’s as much my fault as yours.” He stammered, fingers tracing comforting patterns on his upper arms.

“I didn’t plan for the elevator to get stuck.” Bakugo sneered in response and planted his hands on his hips defiantly. “I don’t want your half-hearted apology shitty nerd” he snarled. “We’re here now so move before somebody bitches at us.”

The two trudged towards into the cabin in silence. They firstly passed a short corridor with a small window. Pinpoints of fireflies danced around the pine trees outside, and the smell of pine resin mixed with distant campfire smoke filled the air.

The cabin lights were on and they could hear distant chatter coming from the dining hall where majority of people were feasting. Izuku’s footsteps were hesitant, as though he could retrace them away from any confrontation. Yet he forced himself onward, anxiety like icy pebbles in his stomach. When they reached room number 9, Bakugo hesitated, mid reaching out to lift the handle. 

He turned and looked down at Deku, clearly asserting dominance “Right. If we’re going to fucking do this, which by the way, not my first choice. Or my second, or my third, in fact even if you were the last person on earth I wouldn’t willingly share a room with you. Anyway, I’m establishing some rules.

Rule number 1: Don’t you fucking dare look in my direction. If I catch you glancing at me even the slightest, I will fucking end you. Rule number 2: Don’t you fucking talk to me unless it’s absolutely necessary. Rule number 3: stop your fucking muttering. If I have to hear you mumble or mutter to yourself because it won’t fucking be to me, you’re immediately getting kicked out, and don’t be surprised when I do. Rule number 4: Don’t fucking question my music choices. I will listen to music everywhere and anywhere, if you don’t like it, you can fuck yourself. Got it?”

The boy ahead of him just looked at him with a gaping mouth and eyebrows furrowed, “Kacchan no, where’s my say in any of this? That’s practically banning my entire existence!” he shot, clear irritation in his words.

“Great you got the point, shitty nerd, that’s the closest I’ll get to your entire existence being removed from this room so that’s what’s gonna fucking happen,” he leaned down towards Deku, towering over him, a grin plastered on his face.

At this, a tinge of hurt struck the boys heart. After over a decade of knowing the boy, he was by far well aware that this was simply how he communicated with people. This was simply his way of showing hatred, affection and respect all at the same time. It was so confusing to Izuku. Even after knowing him for so long though, it still hurt when he would say something like this.

Midoriya’s eyes flickered with pain for a second, before they glided down his body as he felt there was no where else to look.

He wore dark baggy jorts, with a silver chain attached from front of his black spiky belt to the side. On his torso sat a plain white tank top which clearly showcased his broad shoulders. His eyes traced down to Katsuki’s arms, his biceps thick and bulging, outlined perfectly. Then his eyes glanced down to his thick, immense thighs. Even without coming into contact with them, Izuku could tell they were hard as rock.

And suddenly, Bakugo’s presence felt a lot more threatening as Izuku took notice of his rivals strength and muscles. Don’t get me wrong, Izuku was pretty jacked as well, but with Bakugo’s height playing a massive part, since Izuku was 5 foot 10, he couldn’t use his strength in ways the taller boy could. Katsuki Bakugo knew this and used it to his advantage. 

As he came back to reality, Bakugo leaned closer to him, face inches away, causing Izuku to fluster in awkwardness, hoping he hadn’t been caught staring. “Like what you see? Hm?” he sneered, and Izuku stared at him dumbfounded, as he struggled to find his words, “N-no. Shut up,I just didn’t want to look at your f-face.” He stammered, mentally face-palming at that stupid excuse. “Mhm sure, whatever you say” the blond replied, scanning Izuku’s eyes for a second before he leant back and adjusted himself, hands brushing non-existent dust off his shorts. “So. Follow the rules or sleep in the corridor. Your choice.” He shrugged before reaching his hand out once again, gripping it with such force his veins became prominent, and unlocking the door.

The door creaked open with an uneven groan, splinters flaking from the edge of the aging wood as Izuku hesitated on the threshold. His arms were crossed slightly over his chest, his pupils seemed to harden in reluctant dismay.

The room was dimly lit by a single overhead bulb that flickered with the persistent whine of cheap electricity, casting long warping shadows across the rooms modest contents. Two beds. One double. One single. Katsuki, seeing this, immediately sprawled onto the larger one like a tyrant claiming its conquered kingdom, as he let out a noise of satisfaction. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The shorter one muttered under his breath, stepping inside. “Doors open, nerd,” Bakugo drawled without looking up, one brawny arm flung behind his head, the other already fiddling with his phone. “You want a map too? Or just instructions on how to use a knob?”

”Not in the mood, Kacchan,” Izuku said tightly, moving his duffel to beside the narrow single bed as he jumped onto it. It looked like it had been thrown together in the dark. Wrinkled sheets, a flat pillow and a blanket that was at least two decades past its prime. The mattress sagged in the middle like it had survived generations of disgruntled campers.

Bakugo didn’t respond. Instead, he glanced around the room, electrified eyes landing on the nightstand where there seemed to be a middle-sized radio sat like a relic from another time, perched proudly on the dusty nightstand. Its wood casing, once a polished mahogany, had faded into a softer weathered brown. The metal knobs on the front were dulled with age, their black paint chipped. He proceeded to inspect it with eyes only, letting out a short “Huh.” in acknowledgment. 

“Time for ambience,” he stated confidently, a smug grin plastered across his face. As he reached out to see if it worked, he noticed something- a small, almost hidden button near the top. “BT” it read. His brow furrowed. “…No way.”

Curious, and more than a little sceptical, he pressed it. A soft blue light blinked once, slow and lazy like it couldn’t be bothered to impress him. Then, to his genuine disbelief, he watched as it popped up on his phone as a device to connect to. Bakugo snorted, half-annoyed and half-impressed, then tapped connect.

A soft click echoed from the radio, followed by a low mechanical buzz. He scrolled through his playlist, thumb hovering for only a moment before he smirked. “Let’s see what you can handle, huh.” 

The curly haired boy watched from his own bed in utter confusion and disbelief, brows pulled inward, one slightly raised. His eyes widened, blinking once, eyesight never leaving the boy in front of him.

His lips were slightly agape, jaw unhinged but not dropped in full shock, as he tried to process exactly what was happening. Katsuki hit play. The room exploded with distorted guitar, grainy but powerful, Kurt Cobain’s ragged voice cutting through the static like a blade. The grunge riff throbbed through the walls, raw and chaotic, as if the radio itself had been waiting years for a song like this. “Smells Like Teen Spirit.”

Bakugo’s grin widened as Izuku shook his head a million times in disbelief. “Kacchan it’s 9 in the evening! Some people are probably sleeping!” he yelled over the roaring music.

“What kind of high schooler goes to sleep at 9 in the fucking evening?” he yelled back, even louder, completely discarding whatever Deku had to say. He dropped into the nearest chair, one leg bouncing to the beat, arms folded behind his head as the music boomed. The irony wasn’t lost on him. This dusty, ancient box spitting out teenage rage like it remembered what it felt like.

Izuku exhaled sharply, teeth clenched. His entire body was stiff with tension, his shoulders locked in place. Then kicked off his shoes with a little more force than necessary and tried not to flinch at the screeching guitar riffs echoing against the walls. He stood up, rolling his eyes and changed into his pyjamas.

Loose joggers and a faded All-Might T-shirt, back turned firmly away from his rival the entire time. The other boy, of course, made no effort to hide the occasional amused glance, eyes flickering with mockery as he watched the freckle coated one maneuver with awkward rigidity.

When Izuku finally climbed into the narrow bed the springs groaned beneath his weight. The nattress sloped like a dying hill, forcing him to curl into a tight foetal position to keep him from sliding into the middle. “Comfy?” Bakugo asked dryly. “Shut up.” came a muttered response.

”Don’t cry about it. You could’ve wrestled me for the double bed,” the blond said, cracking one eye open. “But we both know you wouldn’t win.” Midoriya didn’t respond. His jaw tightened, the muscle twitching. He turned his back to him and tugged the scratchy blanket over his shoulder as he stared blankly at the wall. 

The song played again. And again. Then a different Nirvana track. Then again. Izuku squeezed his eyes shut. Tried to focus on something else. His breathing, the wind hissing through the trees, creaking from other rooms in the cabin. Anything to drown out the relentless noise and the steady thump of the bass that shook the wooden panels around them.

Inevitably, Izuku’s mind wandered off into deep thinking. A month he thought. With him. The thought alone felt like a heavy stone pressing down on his chest. He could already picture waking up to a screaming Kacchan every morning, a Kacchan who glared holes into Izuku’s back do simply existing. There’d be no escape. Just one room, four walls, 2 bed’s and Bakugo’s presence.

He would be stuck with Kacchan for an entire month, having to put up with the blond’s insane anger issues that he would never admit to having, even though every living thing that he walked past could see it. His stomach twisted at the thought of it. Trapped in the same space, forced to breathe the same air, every moment feeling like a countdown til Katsuki just goes ahead and blows him up. 

The room felt smaller just thinking about it, like the walls would inch closer every time he thought about Katsuki, squeezing the air out of his lungs. Bakugo wasn’t the type to ignore him, not even out of disinterest, no. He’d seek him out, find something to comment on, criticize, or scoff at.

Every movement, every word, every tiny mistake would be under a microscope,  and Bakugo would wield that sharp tongue like a blade. The more he thought about it, the less sleepy he got, and once he had reached this conclusion, he sighed in annoyance. He was never going to get to sleep at this rate.

If this was what every single night with the blond would be like, then he wanted out. But what would his mom think? Izuku baby, why aren’t you at training camp? Oh because of Katsuki-kun? But you’re so much better than him! You’ve endured so much, why give up now?

Izuku sighed, adjusting himself so that he was sleeping in fetal position facing the wall. The arm underneath his weight lied there immobile, whilst he brought his other arm towards his chest. His fingers curled themselves into a fist, which he lightly pressed against his chest for grounding. For any ounce of comfort he could seek, and he brought the covers closer to his face so that they covered his mouth. With this, his thoughts started to die down.

Eventually, maybe twenty minutes later, fatigue won over frustration and the viridian-haired boys limbs slackened, his breathing evened out. The world dulled into a haze of sleep-thick fog and his jaw relaxed. In his sleep, he absentmindedly turned over, facing Katsuki. A faint trickle of drool began to slip from the corner of his mouth. 

The blond’s eyes widened in skepticism as he watched him from across the room. He leaned forward slowly from the chair, one leg lazily thrown over the other. The music was still blaring but Midoriya didn’t stir, just lay there completely unconscious , drool collecting in a small damp patch on the cheap cotton pillow. 

A small grin crept over Bakugo’s face. “Fucking disgusting,” he whispered with a shake of his head. But there was no venom in his voice, just amused disbelief. He reached for his phone, cranked the volume even higher just to see if the nerd would twitch. The speaker shuddered as the raw distortion climbed into even more unbearable territory. Yet, the boy still didn’t move.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the blond murmured again, almost impressed. Without thinking too hard, he switched tabs from Spotify to his phone camera. The shutter clicked softly as he captured the moment. Green curls tousled, one arm flopped limply over the edge of the bed, face slack with the open vulnerability of deep sleep, drool spilling out of his mouth.

Bakugo stared at the photo for a long moment. He didn’t send it to anyone, just told himself he could use it in the future to tease the nerd. Then he locked the screen, and turned the music down just enough for nobody to come in and tell him it's too loud, even though he was certain it was in fact not, and whoever questioned him just had sensitive ears or some shit. He didn't bother with a blanket, just closed his eyes and put his arms behind his head. 

The first rays of dawn had barely begun to pierce through the dormitory windows when an ungodly cacophony erupted from the speakers positioned strategically near the green-haired boys bed. The opening chords of a familiar song blasted at maximum volume, jarring him from the depths of sleep with all the subtlety of a freight train.

“Wake up, nerd!" Bakugo's voice cut through the music like a serrated blade through silk. "We've got class training today, and Aizawa-sensei said anyone who's late gets detention for a week!" He stood beside the boys bed, one foot placed carelessly next to his head. The upper half of his body leaned towards Izuku’s sleepy form, shoving all of him in the boys face in a way that Izuku took as supposing to be a threat? He wouldn’t know. The blond confused him more than anyone else on the stupid planet they lived on did. 

Izuku's emerald eyes snapped open, anger evident on his face, his body jolting upright as if struck by lightning. His wild green curls were matted against his forehead, and his pajamas were twisted from a restless night's sleep. The disorienting blend of melodic vocals and Bakugo's characteristic aggression left him momentarily stunned, his mind struggling to process the abrupt transition from peaceful slumber to chaotic awakening. “Highway to Hell” boomed through the radio’s speaker.

"Kacchan!" Izuku gasped, his voice hoarse with sleep. "What time is it? And why are you-”

"It's 8:30 AM, and we've got intensive quirk training with the whole damn class," Bakugo interrupted, his crimson eyes gleaming with an intensity that could have melted steel.

He was already dressed in his training gear: a black tank top that showcased his impressively muscled arms, dark cargo pants, and combat boots that looked like they could withstand a nuclear blast. "Aizawa wants everyone at Ground Beta in thirty minutes, and I'm not about to look bad because you can't drag your sorry ass out of bed."

Izuku sat up for a moment, rubbing his eyes and trying (and struggling) to process everything that happened between last night and now. His viridescent eyes blinked a few times, still blurry at the sides.

Once he could actually finally see his surroundings, he scanned the room, green eyes locking with red. In color theory, they were complimentary colors, creating strong visual contrast between each other. But that was just color theory.

Izuku scanned Katsuki, taking mental note of everything he was wearing. He was already dressed in his training gear: a black tank top that showcased his impressively muscled arms, dark cargo pants, and combat boots that looked like they could withstand a nuclear blast. "Aizawa wants everyone at Ground Marshal in thirty minutes, and I'm not about to look bad because you can't drag your sorry ass out of bed."

 The blond's gauntlets were already secured to his forearms, the metallic surface gleaming ominously in the early morning light. Small wisps of smoke curled from his palms, a telltale sign that his quirk was already primed and ready for action. His perpetual scowl seemed even more pronounced than usual, etched into his features like a permanent fixture.

Within twenty-five minutes, the entire Class 2-A had assembled at Ground Marshal , one of U.A.'s most comprehensive training facilities at the training camp. The artificial cityscape stretched out before them like a concrete jungle, complete with towering buildings, narrow alleyways, and strategically placed obstacles designed to simulate real-world heroic scenarios.

The morning air was crisp and cool, carrying with it the faint scent of dew and the promise of an intense training session. Overhead, the sky was painted in very faint shades of purple and orange, with the sun gradually climbing toward its zenith in a late sunrise. 

Aizawa stood before them in his characteristic black hero costume, his capture weapon draped around his shoulders like a sleeping serpent. His dark hair hung loose around his face, partially concealing eyes that seemed to see everything despite their perpetually tired appearance. The underground hero's presence commanded immediate attention, even from the more boisterous members of the class.

"Today's training will focus on combat coordination, quirk synergy, and adaptive tactics," Aizawa announced, his voice carrying easily across the training ground despite its measured tone. "You'll be working in predetermined teams to navigate complex scenarios that require both individual skill and group cooperation."

Todoroki stood with his characteristic stoic composure, his heterochromatic eyes scanning the artificial cityscape with analytical precision. Frost crystals were already forming around his right side while small flames danced along his left, his dual-natured quirk responding unconsciously to his mental preparation for the coming exercises.

”The teams have been selected based on complementary abilities and tactical considerations," Aizawa continued, producing a tablet from somewhere within his costume. "Team Alpha: Bakugo, Kirishima, and Ashido. Your objective is urban assault and breakthrough tactics."

Kirishima's sharp-toothed grin was practically luminous as he activated his hardening quirk, his skin taking on the appearance and durability of jagged stone. "Alright!" The redhead's enthusiasm was infectious, even causing Bakugo's scowl to soften marginally.

Ashido bounced excitedly on her toes, her pink skin literally glowing with anticipation. Small droplets of acid began to form around her fingertips, carefully controlled to avoid damaging her costume or injuring her teammates. "Team Alpha sounds amazing! We're going to crush this!"

"Team Beta," Aizawa continued, his tone unchanged despite the growing excitement among his students, "Midoriya, Todoroki and Iida. You'll be handling rescue operations and defensive positioning."

Iida's engines were already humming with barely contained energy, small puffs of exhaust emerging from the pipes in his calves. His rigid posture somehow became even more formal as he processed their assignment. "An excellent strategic combination, sensei! Our quirks should provide optimal coverage for both mobility and protective capabilities."

Todoroki merely nodded, but the subtle shift in his stance suggested he was already analyzing potential tactical applications for their team composition. Ice began to spread in delicate patterns beneath his right foot while the temperature around his left side increased perceptibly.

"Team Gamma: Kaminari, Sero, and Tokoyami. Electronic warfare and environmental control." Aizawa's eyes flicked to the bird-headed student, whose Dark Shadow was already writhing with anticipation in the morning's dim light.

"Revelry in the dark," Tokoyami murmured, his gothic sensibilities clearly pleased with their assignment. Dark Shadow emerged more fully from his body, its glowing eyes surveying the training ground with predatory interest.

Kaminari's hair was already standing on end as electrical energy began to build within his body. Small sparks danced between his fingers as he grinned at his teammates. "Electronic warfare? Now we're talking!”

Sero tested his tape dispensers with quick, precise movements, sending streams of his quirk-generated adhesive material in complex patterns before reeling them back in. "Sweet! We can set up some seriously intricate traps with this combination."

The remaining students were divided into similar tactical groupings, each team designed to highlight specific aspects of hero work while challenging the participants to think beyond their individual capabilities.

"Your first scenario," Aizawa announced, his capture weapon beginning to float slightly as his quirk activated at a low level, "involves a multi-level hostage situation with unknown villain capabilities. Team Alpha will provide assault support, Team Beta handles civilian evacuation, and Team Gamma manages perimeter control and intelligence gathering."

The complexity of the exercise was immediately apparent. Unlike their usual training sessions, this scenario required precise coordination between multiple teams, each with distinct objectives that needed to be synchronised for overall success.

"Begin," Aizawa commanded, and the training ground exploded into coordinated chaos.

Team Alpha moved with devastating efficiency toward the primary objective building. Bakugo launched himself skyward with perfectly controlled explosions, each blast calculated to provide maximum propulsion while minimizing collateral damage to the surrounding structures. His aerial reconnaissance provided crucial intelligence for his ground-based teammates.

"Kirishima, reinforce the eastern approach!" Bakugo called down, his voice carrying clearly despite the distance. "Ashido, I need you to create an entry point on the third floor, make it look natural!"

Kirishima charged forward with unstoppable force of a human battering ram, his hardened skin deflecting debris and small obstacles with casual ease. His quirk had evolved considerably since the beginning of the school year, allowing him to maintain his enhanced durability for extended periods while retaining most of his natural mobility.

Ashido's acid quirk proved invaluable for creating strategic entry points that appeared to be the result of structural damage rather than deliberate hero intervention. Her precise control over the corrosive properties of her secretions allowed her to weaken specific load-bearing elements without compromising the building's overall integrity.

Meanwhile, Team Beta approached their objectives with methodical precision. Iida's incredible speed allowed him to conduct rapid reconnaissance of the evacuation routes, his engines propelling him through the artificial streets at velocities that would have been lethal for an unenhanced human.

"Midoriya, I've identified seventeen potential civilian locations," Iida reported through their communication system, his voice slightly distorted by the speed at which he was traveling. "Todoroki, we'll need both fire suppression and barrier creation for optimal evacuation corridor establishment."

Izuku activated One For All at a carefully controlled fifteen percent, green lightning crackling across his form as he bounded between buildings with superhuman grace. His analytical mind was working overtime, processing the tactical situation and identifying optimal rescue priorities.

"Todoroki-kun, can you create ice barriers along the northern evacuation route?" Izuku called out, his enhanced vocal cords allowing his voice to carry clearly across the training ground. "And maybe some fire support to clear the debris from yesterday's training session?"

Todoroki's response was both immediate and spectacular. His right side erupted with crystalline ice formations that created perfect protective barriers along the designated evacuation route, while simultaneously, his left side generated controlled flames that cleared accumulated debris and provided illumination for the rescue operations.

The dual-quirk user's mastery over his abilities had reached truly impressive levels. Where once his fire and ice had been separate, conflicting forces, he now wielded them as complementary tools in a unified tactical approach.

Team Gamma established their perimeter with the efficiency of seasoned professionals. Tokoyami positioned himself in the deepest shadows available, allowing Dark Shadow to expand to its maximum size and capability. The sentient quirk began weaving through the artificial cityscape like a living surveillance network.

"Multiple heat signatures detected on floors four through seven," Dark Shadow reported in its distinctive gravelly voice. "Unknown energy readings from the roof level, possible quirk-based surveillance equipment."

Kaminari's electrical abilities proved invaluable for disrupting the simulated villain surveillance systems. Carefully controlled electromagnetic pulses disabled electronic devices without causing permanent damage, creating blind spots for the assault team's approach.

After three intensive hours of training, Aizawa announced the exercise was concluded. The critique that followed was characteristically thorough and brutally honest. Aizawa dissected each team's performance with surgical precision, identifying moments of exceptional coordination alongside instances where communication breakdowns had created unnecessary complications. 

As the formal critique concluded and the students began to cool down from their intensive training session, the exhaustion that came from the exercise was obvious.

“Yooo, Bakugo,” Kirishima called out, his grin practically radiating with enthusiasm. Behind him, other classmates were gathering, all looking exhausted and exhilarated by the intensive training session. The combination of physical exertion and mental challenge had pushed everyone to their limits.

“Sup, shitty hair,” Bakugo replied, his usual sharp demeanour returning now that the training had ended. “Not bad for a mornings work, I guess.” 

Ashido bounced over to join them, her pink skin lightly flushed from exercise but her energy seemed unaffected. “That was amazing! Did you see how perfectly our quirk combination worked during the sequence?” 

“Speaking of which,” Kirishima continued, his inclusive nature shining through his fatigue, “I was thinking we could grab some food to celebrate. Joe’s Cafe has those good breakfast sandwiches, and after a workout like that, we could all probably use some food.” The suggestion was clearly apparent to everyone present. Joe’s Cafe had become known among U.A students, known for the relaxed environment. 

"That sounds perfect!" Iida declared, his engines finally winding down to idle levels. "Count me in," Sero added, testing his tape dispensers one final time before allowing them to retract completely. "I could definitely go for some of their famous coffee. Plus, I heard they just added some new items to their menu."

Todoroki nodded his quiet agreement, the temperature around his body finally returning to normal levels as his quirk settled into dormancy. "What about you, Midoriya?" Kirishima asked. Before Izuku could respond, Bakugo's expression darkened considerably. His crimson eyes flashed with something that looked suspiciously like territorial anger, though the reasoning behind it was unclear given the group dynamic of their training session.

"Hold on just a damn minute," he growled, though his protest lacked its usual venom. "Who decided this was going to turn into some kind of class reunion? We just finished training, that doesn't mean we all have to hang out like some kind of lovey dovey friend group or something”

He trailed off, clearly struggling to articulate his objection. The training had been a group effort, making his usual possessiveness regarding Izuku seem particularly irrational.

”Come on, Bakubro," Kirishima said with his usual diplomatic charm. "We all trained together, we all worked hard, and now we all deserve the same kind of reward, plus you literally share a room with the guy!”

"That's not the point! And not that it’s your concern, but just because we share a room doesn’t mean we now have to spend time with each other outside it as well" Bakugo snapped, though even he seemed uncertain about what his actual point was. "I just... we don't all need to-"

”Kacchan," Izuku began quietly, his voice carrying a note of understanding. "If you'd prefer to go somewhere else, or if you need some time to decompress after training, I completely understand,” he said with a slight smile on his face, partially mocking him.

"I didn't ask for your opinion, Deku!" Bakugo interrupted, but there was less conviction in his voice than usual.

Kaminari exchanged a knowing glance with Sero, both recognizing Bakugo's familiar pattern of defensive behavior when faced with group social situations that he couldn't completely control.

"Look, man," Kirishima said with gentle but firm conviction, "we're all going to Joe's Cafe together. All of us. You can either come with us and enjoy some good food with friends, or you can go sulk somewhere else. But the invitation stands for everyone." Despite his generally easygoing nature, the redhead had proven time and again that he wouldn't compromise on matters of inclusion.

Bakugo's jaw worked silently for several long moments, his internal struggle clearly visible on his expressive features. Finally, with a sound that was half growl and half sigh of resignation, he threw his hands up in defeat.

“Fine. But I’m driving. Four-eyes, you take your car and take whoever wants to go with you.” In response, Iida nodded, collecting his belongings and walking to the parking lot, as Bakugo followed. 

Minutes later, the group assembled in the parking lot, where Bakugo stood proudly next to his vehicle. The grey BMW 3 gleamed under the sunlight, its sleek, metallic paint catching every reflection like polished steel. Inside, the cabin was a seamless blend of modern luxury and quiet restraint soft black leather seats, contoured and cool to the touch which still carried the subtle earthy scent of fresh hide. But layered over it was something unexpected. A faint floral perfume, delicate and clean, like crushed petals lingering on fabric. The mix was oddly comforting, sharp leather warmth softened by blooming sweetness, masculine and graceful at once, just like the car itself.

As the group sorted themselves into the two vehicles, Iidas car being a basic black Honda, majority chose the blond’s. Bakugo walked over to the drivers seat, hopping in, before Izuku, Denki, Eijiro and Mina followed.

With such confidence, the green-haired boy climbed into the passenger seat, making himself comfortable, avoiding eye contact with the blond. Noticing he wasn’t starting the car, he turned slightly to look at Bakugo. Their eyes locked with a cold, unblinking intensity, sharp as a blade and twice as dangerous. No emotion flickered just pure concentrated wrath, held in perfect, terrifying stillness. It wasn’t a look, it was a warning.

”What. The fuck. Do you think you’re doing.” the blond asked with such harshness it was barely even a question. “I’ve been in Iidas car about fifty times already, it’s pretty boring, I wanted a change.” Deku announced. “And what makes you think I care?” the athletic one questioned.

“Nothing. But since we’re sharing a room I thought we could use some bonding time.” Izuku muttered, shrugging. “Whatever. Just shut the fuck up and put your seatbelt on, or don’t, I don’t care. I’m not an easy driver.”

Without a word, the boy put his seatbelt on and turned his head slightly, making eye contact with Denki who simply shrugged at him. The engine hummed to life beneath Katsuki’s  hands, low and smooth and with a flick of his fingers, he turned on the radio. For a second, only static. Then, a soft dreamy swell of guitar filled the cabin, slow and hazy. “Sweet” by Cigarettes After Sex drifted through the speakers, smoky and intimate, like someone whispering in a dark room. Katsuki didn’t say a word. He leaned back in the seat, one hand on the wheel, the other resting against his thigh, eyes fixed ahead, jaw tight and gaze unreadable as the melancholy rhythm poured around him. The song played on, and somehow, without meaning to, it fit.

Both vehicles proceeded to pull out of the parking lot and headed toward Joe's Cafe. The promise of good food awaited them, a perfect conclusion to a morning that had pushed them all to new heights of heroic capability.

As they drove through the morning streets, Izuku couldn't help but smile. The training had been intense and productive, showcasing not just individual growth but the remarkable potential of their class when working as a coordinated unit.  After all, being a hero wasn't just about individual strength and quirk mastery. It was about working together, supporting each other, and building the kinds of relationships that could withstand any challenge the world might present. And as Bakugo's convoy carried them toward their destination, it seemed like Class 1-A was well on their way to building exactly those kinds of unbreakable bonds.

The convoy of vehicles pulled smoothly through the winding streets leading toward the commercial district where Joe's Cafe had established its reputation as the unofficial headquarters for U.A. students seeking refuge from their intensive academic schedules. The morning sun cast long shadows between the buildings, creating a picturesque contrast of light and darkness that seemed to mirror the complex dynamics brewing within the vehicles themselves.

Bakugo's dark sports car led the procession with characteristic aggressive confidence, its engine purring with barely contained mechanical power. Behind the wheel, the explosive blonde maintained his typical intense focus, his cherry eyes scanning the road ahead with the same analytical precision he brought to combat scenarios.

In the passenger seat, Izuku found himself stealing occasional glances at his childhood friend, noting the subtle tension in Bakugo's shoulders and the way his fingers drummed against the steering wheel in an unconscious rhythm. The dynamic between them had shifted considerably since their early morning training session, though neither seemed quite ready to acknowledge the change explicitly.

The larger SUV followed at a respectful distance, carrying the rest of their friends in considerably more spacious comfort. Iida had agreed to driving the second vehicle, his meticulous attention to traffic rules providing a contrast to Bakugo's more  creative interpretation of driving laws.

"So what kind of music does Bakugo usually listen to?" Todoroki asked from the passenger seat, his eyes observing the sports car ahead with mild curiosity.

"Probably something loud and aggressive”  Tokoyami bluntly replied from the back seat. "You know, something that matches his personality perfectly."

Their speculation was interrupted as Bakugo's sound system suddenly blared through the car, incredibly loud, the windows of his car lowered. It boomed so loudly that it could probably be heard down the street. The opening electronic pulses of an industrial rock song began to throb through the speakers, immediately recognisable to anyone familiar with alternative music from the 1990s.

The song's unmistakably provocative nature became apparent within the first few verses, causing a ripple of surprised glances and raised eyebrows throughout both vehicles. The explicit content and mature themes were decidedly inappropriate for their morning drive, yet Bakugo seemed completely oblivious to the awkwardness settling over his passengers.

In the sports car, Izuku's cheeks flushed crimson as the lyrics continued to escalate in their graphic intensity. His emerald eyes darted between Bakugo's seemingly unperturbed profile and the radio display, wondering if his childhood friend was genuinely unaware of the song's content or simply choosing to ignore it entirely.

Bakugo, for his part, appeared completely absorbed in the driving experience, his head nodding slightly to the aggressive rhythm while his expression remained focused on the road ahead. If he noticed the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over his passengers, he gave no indication of awareness or concern.

From Iida’s SUV, the situation was equally bewildering. Sero covered his mouth with his hands with embarrassment. Todoroki  and Tokoyami exchanged meaningful glances that clearly communicated their shared disbelief at the musical selection.

"Is he... does he know what this song is about?" Sero whispered, his voice barely audible over the music coming from the BMW.

"I don't think he cares," Todoroki replied with his bluntness, though even his typically stoic expression showed traces of bewilderment.

The song continued its provocative progression while Bakugo maintained his complete obliviousness, occasionally tapping the steering wheel in time with the more aggressive instrumental sections. His genuine enjoyment of the music seemed entirely unbothered from any consideration of its lyrical content.

Finally, the song concluded and transitioned into something considerably more appropriate for their morning journey. The collective sigh of relief from both vehicles was almost audible, though Bakugo still showed no signs of recognising what had just transpired.

"Interesting playlist, Bakugo," Denki’s voice crackled, his tone carefully diplomatic."Yeah, well, I've got excellent taste in music," Bakugo replied with confidence, apparently missing the subtle implications of the boys comment entirely.

The remainder of their journey passed without further musical incidents, though the atmosphere in both vehicles remained slightly charged with the memory of their shared awkward experience. Conversations resumed gradually, focusing on safer topics like their upcoming training schedules and weekend plans.

Joe's Cafe occupied a corner position in a charming district that had managed to maintain its local character despite the increasing urbanization of the area. The building itself was a converted warehouse that retained much of its industrial architecture while incorporating warm, welcoming design elements that created an atmosphere of comfortable sophistication.

Large windows dominated the front facade, allowing natural light to flood the interior space while providing excellent visibility for the mix of customers who frequented the establishment. The exterior walls were decorated with local artwork and community announcements, giving the cafe a distinctly neighbourhood feel that appealed to both students and longtime residents.

As the two vehicles pulled into the adjacent parking spaces, the group began to leave their cars. The SUV's passengers emerged with the typical stretching and groaning that accompanied any journey involving multiple teenagers, while Bakugo and Izuku exited the sports car with considerably less fanfare.

”Finally!" Ashido exclaimed, her bubblegum-pink hair catching the morning sunlight as she practically bounced toward the cafe entrance. "I've been craving their berry pancakes since we started training this morning!"

The interior of Joe's Cafe was exactly as welcoming as its exterior promised. Exposed brick walls were decorated with an ever-changing gallery of local artwork, while industrial fixtures provided warm, ambient lighting that created intimate spaces throughout the open floor plan. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans mingled with the aroma of baking pastries and sizzling breakfast items, creating an olfactory environment that immediately triggered hunger responses in their training-exhausted bodies.

Mismatched furniture added to the cafe's eclectic charm, wooden tables of various sizes and shapes were surrounded by chairs that appeared to have been collected from different eras and styles, yet somehow created a cohesive aesthetic that felt both welcoming and approachable.

The morning crowd was typical for a weekend- a mixture of university students with laptops, young professionals meeting for casual business discussions, and families enjoying breakfasts together. The atmosphere was relaxed and conversational, with the gentle hum of multiple conversations creating a pleasant background soundtrack.

Their group claimed a large table near the windows, though the seating arrangement that emerged was telling in its social dynamics. Most of the classmates clustered together in the center sections, engaging in  discussions about their training session and plans for the remainder of the weekend.

Katsuki, however, positioned himself right in the centre of the main group, his posture suggesting both participation and separation. He sat with his characteristic aggressive confidence, shoulders squared, back straight, one arm draped casually over the back of his chair. His position allowed him to observe the entire group while maintaining a psychological distance that seemed important to his comfort level.

Directly across from him, though separated by several empty chairs, Izuku had chosen a seat that mirrored Bakugo's strategic positioning. The green-haired boy sat with his notebook open beside his place setting, his posture more relaxed than his childhood friend's but equally thoughtful. His emerald eyes occasionally flicked toward Bakugo before quickly returning to his notes or the menu.

The physical distance between them was matched by a curious emotional tension. Not hostile, but charged with unspoken complexity. They existed in each other's peripheral awareness, acknowledging the other's presence through subtle glances and unconscious body language adjustments, yet avoiding direct interaction.

"This place has the best coffee in the district," Sero commented, scanning the extensive menu with obvious appreciation. "And their breakfast burritos are legendary among the third-years."

"I'm thinking about trying their signature pancake stack," Kirishima added, his sharp-toothed grin suggesting he was considering the challenge of their largest portion size. "Apparently, if you can finish the whole thing, they put your picture on the wall."

Kaminari's eyes lit up with competitive interest. "Really? How big could it possibly be?"

Their server, a college-aged woman with purple-streaked hair and multiple piercings, approached their table with the practiced efficiency of someone accustomed to large groups of hungry teenagers. Her name tag read "Maya," and her smile was genuinely welcoming rather than professionally obligatory.

”Good morning! I'm Maya, Joe’s daughter, and I'll be taking care of you today. First time at Joe's for some of you?" She glanced around the table, taking in their U.A. uniforms with obvious recognition. "We get a lot of hero students here, you guys are always welcome."

The ordering process revealed interesting aspects of each student's personality. Iida methodically questioned Maya about ingredients and preparation methods, ensuring his selection would provide optimal nutritional value. Todoroki ordered with quiet precision, requesting specific modifications that suggested considerable experience with dietary requirements.

Ashido bounced enthusiastically through multiple menu options before settling on a colorful fruit-laden creation that seemed to match her vibrant personality. Kaminari ultimately decided to attempt the legendary pancake challenge, much to his classmates' amusement and encouragement.

When Maya reached Bakugo, his order was  direct: black coffee, extra strong, and the spiciest breakfast sandwich available. No modifications, no questions, delivered with the confident assumption that the establishment would meet his exacting standards.

Midoriya’s order was more hesitant, reflecting his tendency toward over-analysis even in casual situations. He eventually settled on a protein-rich omelet with a side of fresh fruit, along with green tea rather than coffee, a choice that earned a barely perceptible eye-roll from Bakugo.

As they waited for their food, conversation flowed naturally around topics ranging from their morning training session to weekend plans and upcoming assignments. The atmosphere was relaxed and friendly, with the comfort that had developed among the classmates over their months of shared experiences.

However, the dynamic between Bakugo and Izuku remained notably subdued. They participated in group conversations when directly addressed, but avoided initiating exchanges with each other. Their awareness of one another was constant but carefully managed, like two powerful magnets held at precisely the right distance to avoid either attraction or repulsion.

About halfway through their meal, Kaminari took notice of a rusty jukebox by the windowsill they were close to. Curious, he stood up and walked over to it, pressing a random button to test whether or not it worked. And when it did, he grinned slightly, as “Glory box” by Portishead began to play quietly, the only response to this action being an eye-roll from Bakugo. The song seemed to match the vibe of the quiet discussions and occasional silence.

As the conversation had settled into a comfortable rhythm of multiple discussions, Kaminari's natural curiosity and tendency toward inappropriate questions surfaced with predictable results.

"So, Bakugo, Midoriya," he began with the dangerous innocence of someone about to cross a social boundary, "How's the whole roommate situation working out? I mean, you guys have known each other forever, but living together has got to be... interesting. Especially since Bakugo is known to constantly blast music whenever the fuck he feels like it.”

The question landed in the middle of their conversation like a conversational grenade, immediately drawing the attention of everyone at the table. The previously relaxed atmosphere suddenly charged with anticipation as all eyes turned toward the two boys who had been so carefully avoiding direct interaction.

Izuku's fork paused halfway to his mouth, his emerald eyes widening slightly as he processed the implications of Kaminari's question. His cheeks took on a subtle pink tinge, and he seemed to shrink slightly into his chair, clearly uncomfortable with being thrust into the spotlight.

Bakugo, however, reacted with characteristic directness. His crimson eyes flashed with something that might have been irritation, though whether directed at Kaminari's question or the situation in general was unclear.

"It's fine," he stated with typical bluntness, his voice carrying just enough edge to suggest the topic was not open for extensive discussion. "We're both focused on training and improving our abilities. Personal drama is a distraction we can't afford."

The response was quintessentially Bakugo, practical, dismissive of emotional complexity, and delivered with sufficient authority to discourage follow-up questions. Yet there was something in his tone that suggested the reality was more nuanced than his simple statement implied.

"Plus," he continued, his gaze flicking briefly toward Izuku before returning to his coffee, "Deku's not completely hopeless anymore. He keeps the room clean, doesn't snore too loud, and stays out of my way when I need space."

The backhanded compliment was delivered with Bakugo's characteristic gruff affection, praise so thoroughly wrapped in insults that it took careful listening to identify the underlying positive sentiment. For those who knew him well, it was actually a remarkably generous assessment.

Izuku's reaction was a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude, his cheeks darkening slightly as he processed what constituted high praise from his explosive roommate. "Kacchan's been... helpful with training advice," he offered quietly. "And he's very organized, which helps keep our schedules coordinated." “And about the music thing, uh not much has happened yet,” he lied, “but if he does decide to keep me awake blasting music in our room, it won’t end well.” he said with a warning glare.

“Is that your pathetic shitty idea of a threat?” Bakugo snarled, leaning forwards now, as close as he could get from where he sat to Izuku. “We both know you wouldn’t actually do anything now, would you? You talk a lot for someone who’s never actually beaten me at anything,”  he smirked, pointing his fork to Deku’s face. 

In response, the smaller boys cheeks flushed a dark shade, as his heart rate quickened slightly. “Kacchan, you can’t say that!” he hurriedly answered, hands fumbling slightly. “You know damn well I in fact have beaten you, you’re just too stubborn and full of yourself to admit it.”

”So he can stand up for himself? Huh. Interesting,” is all the blond could say in response, seemingly unbothered. To this, Deku rolled his eyes and raised his tea to his lips as he took a very large mouthful and gulped. 

As their meal awkwardly concluded and the conversation gradually shifted toward other topics, the brief moment of insight into their roommate dynamic settled into the background. Yet the exchange had provided valuable context for their classmates, offering reassurance that two of their most complex personalities had found a way to coexist productively.

The remainder of breakfast passed pleasantly, with Kirishima successfully conquering his pancake challenge, though barelu,  and several classmates expressing interest in returning to Joe's Cafe for future group outings. The combination of excellent food, welcoming atmosphere, and reasonable prices made it an ideal destination for cash-strapped students.

As they prepared to leave, Maya approached their table with the check and a genuine smile. "You guys are welcome back anytime. It's always nice to see young heroes in training taking time to enjoy themselves."

"Alright, extras," Bakugo announced with his characteristic lack of ceremony, "time to head back. We've got afternoon gym sessions to prepare for, and I'm not spending my entire day babysitting you idiots."

 His classmates had long since learned to interpret Bakugo's communication style, recognizing that his participation in group activities was itself a form of affection, even if he would never admit it openly.

The return journey to the training camp was considerably more subdued than their arrival, with most of the group settling into post-meal contentment. Conversations were quieter, more reflective, as they processed both their intensive training session and the pleasant interlude at Joe's Cafe.

As they drove through the increasingly familiar streets leading back to U.A.'s facilities, there was a palpable sense of satisfaction among the group. The morning had been a perfect example of the balance that successful heroes needed to maintain- intense dedication to improvement combined with the human connections that gave their work meaning and purpose. As their convoy approached the training camp, each student carried with them not just the physical benefits of their morning's training, but the deeper satisfaction of belonging to something larger than themselves.

For Izuku and Katsuki, the morning had provided yet another step in their complex journey toward understanding each other as both rivals and allies. Their brief public acknowledgment of their functional roommate relationship represented progress that might have seemed impossible just months earlier.

As they returned to the training facility where they now had free time until the following day, it was much quieter. The  bonds forged through shared challenges and simple human moments like breakfast at Joe's Cafe would prove to be just as valuable as any quirk enhancement or tactical improvement. And though neither of the two boys admitted it, they both secretly enjoyed the meet-up to different extents.

Chapter Text

The journey back to the training camp facility carried with it the comfortable lethargy that came from the meal and social interaction. Both vehicles navigated the familiar route with leisurely precision, arriving back at the training facility. The afternoon sun had reached its zenith, casting sharp shadows between towering trees that lined the approach U.A’s specialized training facilities. Through the windows, glimpses of the modern dormitory buildings and different training rooms caught Deku’s eye, all designed to create an environment where future heroes could help structure and develop their character.

As they pulled into the parking area close to the dorm complex, group dispersal began. Bags were collected, plans for the rest of the day were discussed and the high slowly died down. “That was definitely worth the drive,” Shitty hair declared as he carefully emerged from the BMW, stretching his arms above his head in obvious satisfaction. “Joe’s Cafe is officially going to be our new hangout place. We should make it our thing.”

”The coffee was amazing as well,” Icy-hot added with an unbothered look on his face, “I wouldn’t mind returning again a few times, it could be our thing, yeah.” As the group began the short walk toward the entrance, their conversation gradually shifted toward afternoon plans and the remainder of their weekend schedule. Most intentions were to spend time studying, training individually or going out with friends.

It was during this discussion that Tokoyami, who had been quite quiet throughout their meal, spoke up with an announcement that captured everybody’s attention. “There’s a party tonight, hosted by Tetsutetsu” he said in his distinctive deep voice, the words carrying an almost mystical quality. “Starts at midnight, locations about 10 minutes from here.” The revelation was met with a chorus of surprised responses and immediate questions.

”A party?” Ashido’s eyes lit up with unmistakable excitement, her pink complexion seemed to glow in anticipation. “Oh my god finally, I feel like it’s been ages since the last party! What should we wear?”

“The details are somewhat…unconventional,” Tokoyami replied with his usual dramatic flair. “It’s at an abandoned warehouse that’s been temporarily converted for the occasion. Dress code is casual but expressive and efficient.”

Dunce face practically bounced with enthusiasm. “Yeah sounds good, I’m in. Wasn’t gonna take much convincing anyway.”

”Yeah, count me in as well,” Sero added, his usual laid-back demeanor brightening with genuine interest. “It’s been too long since we’ve all gone to an event like that together.”

“Isn’t Aizawa not gonna let us go? Especially if it’s at midnight.” Deku questioned, causing the group to all turn towards him in a moment of anticipation. Bakugo could see the way the boy stiffened at this and looked a little uncomfortable in the tension.

“He doesn’t have to know,” Dunce face shrugged, “As long as nobody other than us finds out and snitches, and as long as we’re quiet, he won’t know.”

Deku seemed a little nervous about this, but nodded regardless. As the group continued toward the dormitory entrance, the conversation gradually divided into some more enthusiastic about the party, and others seemed more uninterested about it but willing to try.

“What about you, Bakugo?” Shitty-hair asked, rudely interrupting his thoughts and peace, causing him to scoff. “You up for a midnight party?” Bakugo’s response was measured and skeptical. His vermillion eyes narrowed slightly as he processed the implications of the invitation. “Depends,” he finally answered, his tone carrying just enough interest to suggest he wasn’t entirely opposed. “What kinda party are we talking? Not interested in making small talk with a bunch of extras I don’t know.”

”Think of it as reconnaissance,” Tokoyami suggested with a slight smile, barely visible. “The fuck does that mean?” Katsuki scoffed, his eyes rolling in outright boredom. Tokoyami sighed, “An opportunity to observe social dynamics outside our usual environment. Plus, it could be fun.”

The appeal to the blond’s strategic thinking was clever, framing the party as fun as well as a learning opportunity. As the boy began to think deeply about the proposal, while also thinking about how fucking bad he just wanted to get out of here and go to the gym, an annoying high-pitched voice interrupted his thoughts.

”What about you, Midoriya?” Ashido asked, turning her attention to the green-haired boy who had been notably quiet. “You should totally come! It’s been ages and you don’t usually go, your mom wouldn’t even know in case you’re worried about that!”

Deku’s reaction was hesitant and cautious. Probably too much of a pussy to disrespect his mom, even if she wouldn’t know about it- Bakugo thought. His emerald green eyes darted between his classmates faces, clearly wanting to participate but struggling with the implications of the situation.

”I…well I mean…” he stammered, crossing his arms and using his right hand to stroke his left forearm in a nervous comforting way. “I’ve never really been to that kind of party before. I guess I could give it a go.”

The admission was painfully honest, revealing both his slight insecurities and his desire to feel included. The vulnerability in his voice was enough to cause a softness throughout the group, though the blond was careful not to let his sympathy, which was barely even there, show.

”Come on,” Kirishima encouraged with his trademark supportive enthusiasm. “It’ll be great! We’ll all be there together so you won’t have to worry about not knowing anyone. Besides, you’ve earned it.”

His posture gradually relaxed as he processed the various perspectives his classmates were offering. He turned slightly and met eyes with his childhood best friend, who simply rolled his eyes and let out an unimpressed “Tch.”

”Yeah okay, I-I’ll go,” he hesitantly spoke, his voice gaining slight confidence. Katsuki watched this internal struggle with barely concealed impatience, though there was something almost protective in the way he observed Izuku’s decision-making process. When the green-haired boy finally committed to attending, there was a fleeting expression of what might have been approval that crossed the blond’s features.

”Fine,” Bakugo announced with bluntness. “If shitty-hair and the rest of you extras are going, I’ll go.”

The declaration was delivered with typical Bakugo bravado, but those who knew him well could recognise the underlying loyalty instinct that motivated his participation. He was, in his own abrasive way, ensuring his classmates had backup.

As they began to separate toward their individual rooms, the excitement and anticipation surrounding the evening’s planned adventure was palpable. Students were already making mental calculations about timing, outfits, and various preparations they would need to complete before the midnight departure.

“Alright everyone meet in the common area at 11:45,” Tokoyami instructed with his dramatic authority. “We’ll walk as a group to ensure everyone’s fine and no one gets lost.”

The plan was sensible and offered a safe way there and back, careful to minimise potential risks. As the group began to disperse toward their respective rooms, Bakugo made an announcement that surprised no one who knew his typical afternoon routine.

”I’m hitting the gym,” he declared, adjusting the strap of his bag with efficiency. “I need to work off that breakfast before tonight, and I’ve got some techniques I wanna practice.”

To this, Deku visibly rolled his eyes. Bitch. The statement was delivered with his usual matter-of-fact confidence that suggested the gym session served multiple purposes and he was using it for his own getaway.

For Bakugo, intense exercise often functioned as both stress relief and mental preparation, helping him process complex situations through physical exertion. He always used working out as a coping mechanism as well as a break from his thoughts. It was a way to let out all his emotions in the one thing he knew: violence. To him, there was no other way to resolve your problems unless it’s breaking yourself physically until you don’t feel anything mentally anymore. No, this was not a good coping mechanism but hey, it worked for him. 

”Mind if I come with you, Kacchan?” Deku asked, interrupting him from his thoughts with a dumbass hopeful expression in his glowing eyes. “I could work on some of the control exercises we were told about in training, and plus I could use it.” The last thing he said stated with a tug at the corner of his lips, as if that may sway the blond. 

”Damn fucking right you could use it,” Katsuki scoffed, a slight mocking smile plastered across his face. To this, the shorter boy just shot him a disapproving glare, waiting for an actual answer.

”Hell no,” he replied without hesitation, vicious edge in his voice. “This is my time, Deku. I need space to think and work without having to worry about your annoying ass self pestering me constantly like a fucking dog.”

To this, Deku seemed to shrink in on himself, his fuckass eyes faltered with emotion before looking down at the floor and nodding in disappointment. Spotting Izuku’s reaction, Kirishima shot a glare at Bakugo before stepping towards Izuku, rubbing his hand across his shoulder in a comforting manner. “It’s okay, Midoriya. Let’s go back to the dorms, maybe you can take a nap?”

Deku looked up at Kiri with hopeful eyes, nodding his head slightly, Kirishima in front of him gesturing for the rest of the gang to follow into the dormitory block.

Bakugo, following behind everyone else, shoved his hands in his pockets and walked with his head hung low. As they entered, Bakugo took in his surroundings. The reception area that surrounded them had four medium-blue walls, two brown leather couches and a large Kentia Palm plant next to a small wooden table with a lilac telephone placed upon it.

As he glanced around, he noticed a few random paintings that didn’t have much relevance to hero work or training but were there regardless. Bakugo thought a little deeper and started to wonder what these next four weeks would look like and what events might happen. For a start, he attended a hangout at Joe’s cafe which was unusual and unexpected for him, and by the looks of it, his friends wanted it to happen at least once more while they were here. He wasn’t actually expecting much to happen, just training, gym time, a few hangouts - if he could be bothered to go, and dealing with the shitty nerds nerdiness. 

Breaking him away from his thoughts, Mina waved a quick goodbye, blowing air kisses as she skipped away towards Cabin 2 with Sero by her side and Tokoyami followed them suit, gesturing a two fingered salut before disappearing down the alleyway with Todoroki behind, hands in his pockets. This left the remaining members of the group all in the same cabin. After waving their goodbyes which took unnecessarily longer than expected, they turned around to walk the opposite direction towards their cabin.

As they began approaching the stairs at the end of the hallway, Bakugo came to a halt as the gym was down the other hallway to the right. As everyone else continued walking, Deku lingered near the foot of the stairs for a moment, his backpack swung over one shoulder, knuckles turning white with how hard he was clasping it. He gave a small, tired smile to Kiri as he called down his goodnight from the stairs above them.

The hallway felt way quieter once the chatter faded, leaving only the hum of the lights and their unsynced breathing . “Guess I’ll head to our room too,” Deku murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. He adjusted the grip on his backpack, tilting forward on his feet as if pondering whether to leave or stand there until Bakugo says something in return.

In response, Bakugo just continued to stare at him, causing the boy to audibly sigh as he glanced towards the hallway that lead to the gym and then he disappeared up the stairs, muttering some things the blond couldn’t hear. 

From somewhere upstairs, a door closed with a dull thud, the muffled noise of the common room fading instantly into the cool stillness of the hallway. Bakugo adjusted the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder, his expression set in the same determined scowl that never seemed to leave him . The soles of his sneakers hit the floor with sharp, steady bests as he cut through the empty hallways, heading straight for the gym. 

He didn’t really bother looking around, he already knew the layout, even though he had barely even been here. The scent of rubber mats and metal weights reached him before he even pushed the door open. The gym was deserted, just how he liked it, even though it was surprising since it was only 3:20 pm, which he only just realized as he looked up at a clock on the wall.

Bakugo tossed his bag against the wall with a heavy thunk and rolled his shoulders, preparing for a couple hours of gym work. He reached inside his pocket and pulled out an AirPods case, slipping the AirPods into his ears. Once they were in, he reached into his other pocket and pulled out his phone in a swift motion, ignoring the 100+ notifications that covered his Lock Screen, thumb swiping across his phone screen until the opening notes of “Supermassive black hole ” by Muse filled his head. The beat clicked into rhythm with his pulse, fast and sharp.

”Perfect,” he muttered, smirking to himself as he grabbed the barbell from its rack. He started with a warm-up set, muscles flexing under the dim lights, every motion precise and deliberate. The music drowned out the silence of the gym- all he could hear was the upbeat track thumping in his ears, mingling with the rush of his breath and the faint clank of weights.

Bakugo’s tempo quickened, sweat breaking across his forehead as the song carried him forward. His body moved on instinct- push, pull, lift, repeat. The fire in his chest burned hotter with each repetition, his mind clearing until there was nothing but the rhythm of the song and the stubborn drive that refused to let him stop.

Even here, alone, Katsuki Bakugo refused to slow down.

The world outside the gym and even the thoughts of that dumbass nerd (he didn’t actually know why he was in his thoughts in the first place) were distant echoes behind the pounding in his ears. Two hours slipped faster than he realized. When he finally slowed, dragging his hands down his face, chest heaving, his body drenched in sweat, Bakugo let out a long, ragged exhale. He tugged at the AirPods from his ears, placing them inside their case and  tossing them onto the bench beside him. The silence felt almost deafening after the music and exertion, but he welcomed it.

He grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat from his face and arms, muscles still trembling from the intensity of the workout. He glanced around- empty gym, quiet, no distractions- and allowed himself a moment to just stand there, catching his breath, feeling the satisfying ache of a body pushed to its limit.

Finally, he straightened up, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder. His footsteps echoed through the polished floor as he left the gym, muscles still buzzing from the workout. The hallway was cool, the scent of cleaning solution mixed with the faint aroma of nitroglycerin. He walked briskly, almost subconsciously, taking the stairs two at a time, his sneakers squeaking lightly on each step.

Up to his cabin, he paused at the door, catching his reflection in the small window of the hallway. Bakugo hated mirrors. It only served as a constant reminder of what he looked like and how people perceived him. He shouldn’t care, and he didn’t care, but deep down he always felt like he was a stranger inside his own body. He didn’t know why, maybe it was because he was raised to be strong and tough, and if he stared at himself for too long, he would begin to pick apart every individual flaw he had, inside and out. 

Sweat matted his hair, chest heaving, but sharp eyes scanning everything- always alert, always ready. He freaked the door open, glancing inside and stepped in, the calmness settling around him. For a moment, it was just him, the lingering burn of his muscles and the faint echo of music which had long since stopped. 

He proceeded to stride towards room 9, his and Deku’s room, and his hand hesitated reaching towards the doorknob but he didn’t actually know why. He twisted it, the door swinging open with a quiet creak. The dorm room was dim, curtains closed with afternoon lights spilling through the gaps, casting soft striped across the floor. 

His eyes immediately fell on Deku. Curled up on the bed in the same clothes from earlier, his green hair messy and sticking out slightly to his forehead from sweat or maybe just sleep. He looked small, vulnerable, the rise and fall of his chest was slow and steady, and for a moment Bakugo just froze, leaning against the doorframe. 

The nerd’s arms were tucked close to his body, knees pulled up, his breathing uneven, the kind that comes after exhaustion- physical, emotional. Realizing he had been staring a minute too long, he scowled at himself and shifted his weight from foot to foot, careful not to make a sound, eyes flicking over the room.

The small mess of notebooks and textbooks on the desk, the backpack tossed to the side. With a quiet exhale, Bakugo stepped fully into the room, letting the door swing behind him. His movements seemed quieter than usual, he told himself it was due to his exhaustion from his workout, but maybe that wasn’t the only reason. 

He moved towards the bathroom, not bothering to lock it since Deku was asleep, and dropped his towel and gym clothes onto the floor without a care. The hot water hit him the moment he stepped into the shower, steam immediately curling around the small room. He let out a sharp hiss as the heat seared through his muscles, soothing the ache from the brutal workout. Every motion, arms lifted, shoulders rolled, fists clenching was about feeling the burn melt away rather than thinking about anything else.

The water ran over him in thick streams, pounding his back and shoulders, and he stayed under it longer than usual. Steam swirled around the room, fogging the mirrors and curling in wisps along the tiles. He scrubbed vigorously, the scent of soap mixing with the tang of sweat still clinging to his skin, washing off the evidence of the afternoon workout. 

For a while, it was just him, the hot water and the relentless hiss of the shower. No stupid Deku, no stupid worries, no annoyances- just heat, motion. His muscles finally relaxed, the ache softening into a dull, satisfying burn and the tension in his shoulders began to ease. 

Minutes passed, maybe longer than they should have, until Bakugo finally let the water run cooler for a moment before shutting it off. Steam lingered in the room, clinging to the tiles and curling towards the ceiling. He swooped his towel off the floor, drying himself roughly and efficiently, heat still lingering on his body making him feel alive, sharp and in control.

Bakugo wrapped the towel around his torso, knotting it tight against his hips before pushing open the bathroom door. A wave of steam rolled out into the cooler air of the dorm room, fogging up the glass of the window behind the curtains. His skin was still flushed from the heat, damp hair sticking to his forehead in messy spikes. He trudged across the room towards the small shared wardrobe, the floor creaking faintly under his bare feet as he strutted. 

He yanked the wardrobe open, digging through for fresh clothes. The sound must’ve been louder than he thought because behind him, he heard a soft rustle. 

Deku shifted, groaning quietly as he blinked awake, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. The light filtering through the curtains hit his face, making him squint slightly, his messy hair sticking up even worse than usual. He looked disoriented as he adjusted slowly to the environment, gaze sweeping blearily across the room before landing on Katsuki’s figure at the wardrobe. 

Bakugo stiffened, shoulders tense but he didn’t turn around right away. His jaw clenched as he didn’t say a word, waiting for the nerd to say something first. Deku sat up slightly, rubbing his eyes again, still not fully aware, his voice soft and groggy. “Kacchan…?” 

The steam lingered faintly in the room, wrapping around the edges of the moment like a haze, as Bakugo pulled a shirt from the wardrobe, the towel still hung low around his waist. He didn’t answer straight away, instead he pulled a black T-shirt from the wardrobe, his back still to Deku. Droplets of water slid down his shoulders, tracing along the lines of muscle before disappearing into the towel at his waist. Bakugo could feel the loser’s gaze lingering, heavy even in its half-awake haze, and it made his skin prickle in a way he hated.

”Tch,” Bakugo muttered under his breath, forcing his shoulders to relax. “The hell are you starin’ at, nerd? Haven’t you seen someone shower before?” His voice came out sharper than he intended, meant to snap the tension out the air. Deku blinked quickly, rubbing his eyes again as if trying to prove to himself he wasn’t seeing things. His cheeks tinted slightly and he sat up straighter in bed. “S-sorry, I just…I didn’t expect you to be back already.” His voice was still soft with sleep and confusion, words clumsy. 

Bakugo turned then, shirt dangling loosely from his hand, his crimson eyes narrowed. “It’s been two hours Deku. It’s about, I don’t know, 5:30? ‘nd we leave for the party in 6 hours. I’m gonna go take a nap, you do whatever the fuck you want, I couldn’t care less. Don’t disrupt me and set an alarm for 10 because I will be leaving without you if you’re not ready.” 

In response, the boy from the bed just stared dazedly, nodding his head slightly and turning back over to reach for his phone which was lying beside his head on charge, probably to set an alarm, Katsuki thought. The blond hummed at this and slipped on his shirt, grabbing some boxers and sliding them under the towel before dropping the towel to the floor and grabbing some orange shorts.

Bakugo finished tugging on his shorts, dragging a hand through his damp hair. The steam from the shower had thinned now, leaving only the faint scent of soap clinging to him, as well as the moist heat in the room which was too mellow for his liking. He didn’t glance at Deku again, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, he tossed his towel onto the chair by the bedside table and exhaled through his nose.

The bed creaked faintly as he shoved the covers back and dropped onto the mattress. The springs groaned under his weight, the sound sharp in the otherwise quiet room. He lay on his back first, arms folded behind his head, staring up at the ceiling like it had done something to piss him off. His chest still rose and and fell heavier than usual, muscles with a faint ache from training, but his mind refused to settle.

Deku shifted slightly under his own blanket across the room, the rustle almost too soft to notice, but Bakugo couldn’t even tell if the nerd was awake. He glanced over towards his bed, just for a second, and was met with the back of the boy because he was almost fully pressed into the wall next to his bed. Katsuki mentally rolled his eyes at this and he couldn’t even tell if the dumbass was awake or not, but he didn’t even care at that point. 

The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the faint hum of the air vent and the slow uneven rhythm of the two different sets of breathing. Bakugo pulled the blanket up over his shoulder, shutting his eyes even as his thoughts refused to quit. Sharing a room with Deku was already hell enough- waking up to seeing his face, sleeping in the same room as him, showering one door and one wall  away from him, every second a reminder of the invasion of privacy. 

He clenched his fists beneath the blanket, forcing himself to focus on the exhaustion in his body instead of the quiet presence across the room. Still, his mind refused to go quiet. Every time he shifted, the bed springs groaned and he was reminded that Deku was right there, just a few feet away. How did he even get here? In this situation? Stuck with him? If only he had been quicker. He should have grabbed Shitty hair and yanked him towards a room instead, anything would have been better than Deku.

He could still hear the boys breathing- soft, uneven, almost hesitant as I’d the idiot was holding back even while asleep. It annoyed the fuck out of Bakugo. It got under his skin, stuck there like a splinter he couldn’t get out and he hated it, he hated it so so much. 

Katsuki rolled onto his back again, glaring up at the ceiling through the faint stripes of light breaking through the curtains which didn’t do much of a good job at keeping the light out. His jaw unclenched only when he let out a long, low breath, shoulders sinking into the mattress. The blanket was war,, the room still, but his chest still carried that weight, the restless weight he hated.

Sharing a room with him, it wasn’t just annoying, it was distracting. The loser would constantly bother him with questions of are you okay Kacchan? Or Kacchan? What’s wrong? If Bakugo wasn’t talking for two fucking seconds or if he didn’t have the energy to respond, Deku was on him before he could even have time to process anything.

It was suffocating and he hated how he always felt on edge, like the boy would see a glimpse of a moment of Bakugo with his guard down, or Bakugo not scowling because he was too tired to, or Bakugo struggling to get his thoughts straight because he was too stressed, or those rare moments when Bakugo-

The blond let out quite possibly the biggest and most exaggerated sigh ever, dragging a hand through his hair with a frustrated grunt. He forced his eyes shut, willing sleep to take over. Maybe if he drifted off fast enough, he wouldn’t have to think about the nerd breathing across the room or about the fact that, despite everything, it’s so impossibly difficult to ignore the boy, no matter how hard he tried or how hard he desperately wanted to. 

The room had sunk into heavy silence, broke only by the occasional hum of the air vent. Time slipped by unnoticed until, four and a half hours later, the shrill buzz of both their alarms erupted at once. What. The. Fuck? Bakugo thought as he was woken up from his slumber to the jumbled remix of his own default radical phone alarm mixed with Deku’s A phone call is here. A phone call is here. Was that…All Mights voice? The sudden noise shattered past the quiet, rattling through the dimly lit room. 

Bakugo groaned, throwing an arm over his face, the sound of their phones alarms drilling straight into his skill. He groaned exceptionally loudly while grunting “Shut the fuck up,” as he blindly reached for it on the bedside table. His fingers swiped across the screen until his alarm stopped, Deku’s being the only thing disrupting the silence.

He glanced up at the boy with a roll of his eyes to be met with him fumbling with his phone, struggling to adjust his eyesight. Bakugo let out an impatient groan, silently telling him to hurry the fuck up. Across the room, he stirred, blinking at the bright screen until he finally managed to shut it off. The silence that followed was thicker than before, the sudden awareness that in about an hour and a half they would be going to a party together with everybody else settling between them. 

Bakugo swung his legs over the edge of the bed, shoving the blanket off as he stood and planting his feet firmly on the floor. His spiky blond hair stuck out in every direction, still messy from sleep, and his expression was sharp with irritation, though a little hazy with the leftover weight of the nap. He stretched his arms over his head, shoulders plopping and he twisted his back until it cracked, shaking off the weight of sleep. 

The phone in his hand vibrated then and the dim light of his phone screen lit up his face in the dark room as he raised it to his face, eyes adjusting to the screen. 326 new notifications. Great. It had only been about half a day since he opened his phone, and his so called “friends” wonder why he never answers their messages. With a swipe of his thumb across the screen, his phone unlocked. The first chat he opened was Shitty-hair’s, the last person to message him— just now. 

Shitty hair: 

Bakubro 

19:43

Shitty hair:

You’re definitely coming to the party right?

20:37

Shitty hair:

Bakubrooo

20:56

Shitty hair:

Did you like die?

21:14

Shitty hair:

Bro answer your messages, Mina won’t stop pestering me to pester you to make sure you’re going

21:39

Shitty hair:

You’re probably napping, text me when you wake up

21:48

Shitty hair:

Bro are you sure you’re not dead? I’m not convinced

22:03

Bakubro:

The fuck?

Bakubro:

Course I’m alive, the fuck? Just ‘cause I didn’t answer for a few hours doesn’t mean I’m dead

Shitty hair:

Oh thank god

Shitty hair:

I was a few minutes away from walking over and banging on your door until you came out of there

Bakubro:

Yeah and that’s not in the least a bit stalkerish and over dramatic

Bakubro:

Anyways, what do you want?

Shitty hair:

You still going to the party later?

Shitty hair: 

And Midoriya?

Bakubro:

Yes I’m still going and if you ask me one more time, I won’t go anymore cause I’m sick of your bullshit 

Bakubro:

And no, I don’t know or care about that nerd, ask him yourself.

Shitty hair:

Alright, man

Shitty hair:

Text me if you need, bye!

Read 22:06

Bakugo sighed and set his phone down on the bedside table, not giving a shit that Kiri would definitely have a go at him for leaving him on read and not saying goodbye back, but he could deal with that later. He proceeded to walk from beside his bed over towards the wardrobe and he quickly grabbed the first few things he could see that looked more than decent to go out in— not that he really cared what other people thought in the first place. 

Walking over to the bathroom, he swung the shirt he held in his hand in a 360 as he set foot inside and closed and locked the door, completely ignoring the nerd’s existence. He walked over to the bathroom sink and turned the tap on, putting it on the coldest setting. 

He let the cold water run under his wrists for a minute, aiming to try and wake himself up a little more. After a few moments, he put his hands under the water stream and splashed his face, then he proceeded to roughly scrub at his face with his wet hands. He scrubbed with such force that he didn’t even notice his face had gone slightly red, and he only noticed when he looked up at himself in the mirror. 

“Better,” he muttered under his breath, though his reflection still scowled back at him. He stripped out of his clothes without hesitation, pulling on the clean outfit he had grabbed from his wardrobe. First came a navy blue Ralph Lauren polo shirt, the fabric snug against his chest and arms, neat but still casual enough for the night. He tugged at the collar, adjusting it with a flick of irritation before moving on.

Then the cream colored cargo pants, loose enough for comfort, structured enough to look sharp. He fastened them quickly, the contrast between the navy and cream suiting him more than he’d admit out loud. Once dressed, he glanced at himself in the mirror again, lips quirking slightly before he rolled his eyes at his own reflection.

Bakugo looked away with a slight flinch, as if he was scared to stare for too long. He stood there in the bathroom for a moment, just thinking. It seems to Bakugo that he only thinks when it’s not necessary, but when it is, he acts on impulse. A prime example of this is that he speaks his mind — if somebody asks him for his opinion, he will say it straight to their face with brutal honesty. And he doesn’t care. 

That’s who Bakugo was, he just doesn’t care. 

It’s only when absolutely nobody is around that he lets all the emotions he tosses aside escape. He doesn’t necessarily mean to. They just escape, crawling back to him, well, more like running at full speed and tackling him to the floor. He doesn’t know why he’s like this.

Bakugo Katsuki doesn’t feel things, what’s he talking about? Bakugo Katsuki is strong, fierce, determined, rude, arrogant, ignorant, number 1, all-mighty. Not some scrawny little teenager who feels things and lets his emotions get in the way of his actions. No, that was scrawny little Deku, and Bakugo Katsuki does not want to be associated with that nerd. God, he knew sharing a room would be hard and hella irritating, but how he’s syncing with Deku’s thoughts too? He’d actually thought about emotions. Eugh that word felt bitter even in the comfort of his own mind, his own thoughts. 

Bakugo shoved the bathroom door open, the smell of steam and soap still clinging to him as he stepped out, adjusting the hem of his polo. He froze mid-step when his eyes landed on Deku. 

The nerd was standing stiff in front of the wardrobe mirror, shoulders hunched, plain white shirt half-buttoned. His reflection stared back at him with a look that was more pained then focused. He tugged at his collar, then dropped his hand, then lifted it again, as if nothing sat right on his body. 

His lips pressed into a thin line, eyes flicking over himself with raw hesitation Bakugo knew all too well. Deku’s fingers trembled on the buttons before he finally let them go, his gaze darting down towards the floor.

“The fuck is up with you?”, Bakugo asked, “What happened to your happy-go-lucky personality? Huh? Why you all depressed now?”, he said, hand gesturing up and down towards Deku’s form. 

“I’m not depressed Kacchan…I just, I don’t know,” he said, hands dropping down to his sides in defeat.

”Yeah and my eyes are fucking green, don’t give me that bullshit,” Bakugo exaggerated, crossing his arms.

“To a blind person they could be,” Deku said with a slight gleam to his eyes.

”Oh so even when you’re all miserable you still find a way to be brassy. Quit being a smartass you sassy bastard.”

The nerd sighed in defeat, “Okay Kacchan,” he exasperated as he turned slightly away from him, puppy-dog eyeing the mirror again as if he was waiting for the mirror to change it’s mind about him. Bakugo noticed this and out of outright annoyance, he sighed extremely dramatically and ran a hand through his hair, pulling it slightly before plopping down on his bed and turning on the speaker next to him. 

He whipped out his phone— ignoring messages from Shitty-hair, Dunce face and raccoon eyes— and clicked open Spotify, scrolling to the song that called out to him, “Come as you are” by Nirvana. After clicking play and setting his phone down, he rolled over onto his front on the bed and used his forearm to block his eyes from the sun, praying everything other than the music would leave his thoughts. 

He didn’t care about this shitty party, or his shitty “friends”, or this shitty training camp, or this shitty Deku he was forced to sharing a room with. All he wished for was to be in the comfort of his own dorm room, even if it was just a singular wall separating Bakugo and Deku, at least there would be some distance between them.

That was all Bakugo wanted—distance, and that seemed to be the one thing people never let him have. Whether it was Deku pestering him, Shitty-hair’s non-stop messaging, Aizawa-sensei calling them down for training, or the occasions he would be forced by his friends to cook for everyone, people were constantly trying to talk to him. He actually didn’t think he couldn’t make it clearer that he just wanted space from everybody, he guesses everyone just ignores his protests to leave him alone. 

He didn’t know how long had passed but he must have dozed off, because when he lifted his head, a new track was playing and the time on his phone had changed by half an hour. He glanced around the room, blinking confusion away til his eyes landed on the locked bathroom door, light leaking through the crack at the bottom. As if on queue, in that moment, the door unlocked revealing a slightly nicer looking Deku. 

“Tch,” was all the blond could manage before he grunted and rolled off the bed, turning off the speaker which was playing a song he didn’t even recognize. He walked over to his bedside table and slid on his air forces with such unnecessary precision. Once finished, he glanced over at the boy who was also in the process of putting his shoes on, back facing Bakugo. He struggled slightly, and ended up trudging the backs down of his already falling apart shoes. Classic Deku.

After staring and (arguably) patiently waiting, he scoffed, “Lets go, nerd.” And with that, he walked towards the door, absentmindedly holding it open for Deku.

The hallway was quieter than he liked, the soft hum of the dorm lights making every step echo. Deku was a few paces behind, hands clenching at his sides, walking like he was trying not to be noticed. Tch, typical. Bakugo walked ahead, mind half on Deku, half on the damn reception desk waiting at the end of the corridor and he pulled the hem of his polo shirt down, tilting his head to the right as he scratched his neck, annoyed at himself for thinking too much about him.

”Bakubrooo!” 

A sigh.

”Dude, shut up! You’re gonna get us caught!” came the voice of dunce face, to which he said this, nudging Kiri with power at the same time.

“Ow! Oh, right right, sorry,” Kiri sheepishly said in response, rubbing the back of his neck. The pair walked over, from the corridor on his right, to Bakugo and closed the distance— distance— before enveloping the blond into a hug, tackling him slightly and scruffing his hair. 

After a moment, they pulled away when they noticed Deku lingering behind, seemingly unsure of how to act, and Kiri walked over to him, hugging him tightly with Deku’s hands still stuck by his sides as the red-head lifted him off the floor and shook him about a bit. “Midoriya! We missed you,” Kiri said once he put him down. 

Deku smiled awkwardly, “Yeah, I missed you too Kiri.”

By the time they reached the reception room, the idiots were already jabbering, but Bakugo stayed quiet, hands in his pockets and eyes forward. He glanced around the room, taking in his surroundings, and his eyes met Deku’s, as if they were trained to do so. For a moment, they just stared. Green locked with Red, before Deku broke the eye contact with a roll of his eyes. Some nerve. 

The entire group had finally met at the bottom of the stairwell in the reception room, including round face, who hadn’t even gone with them to the Cafe. There was Raccoon eyes, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet; Shitty-hair grinning like this was the smartest idea ever, Pikachu making some dumb joke he didn’t catch; Iida standing rigidly, arms crossed and eyes sharp.

Katsuki kept his eyes forward, shoulders tight and arms crossed over his chest, already irritated at having to be part of this parade. He noted the others in passing— Tokoyami’s dark figure lurking a little to the side, Sero sitting impatiently, Icy-hot silent but aware, Uraraka cheerful snd calm, and Deku, quiet and tense, fiddling with his sleeve like an idiot. 

“Alright, everyone ready?” Iida whisper-shouted, clipped but firm. “We should leave promptly to arrive on time.”

Dunce face waved a hand lazily. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, we’re good to go. Didn’t even think you’d come in the first place Iida, lay back, take a chill pill, it’s gonna be fine.” He extended the vowels of the last word, attempting to make a point. 

At this, Katsuki sighed and decided to get moving, leading the group — with everybody cowering behind him —without even meaning to. The group spilled out of the dorm complex together, voices overlapping in bursts of chatter.

The midnight air was warm and thick, the sky already deep shade of indigo and black, stars flickering faintly above. They fell into a loose line on the sidewalk, shoes scruffiness against the pavement as the ten minute walk stretched out ahead of them.

Behind him, Mina was practically glowing with energy, chattering to Uraraka about what songs might be playing and what their favorite music artists are. Uraraka laughed softly, her hands clasped behind her back, head tilting as she tried to keep up with Mina’s bouncing pace.

Iida, of course, took up the role of unofficial organizer. He kept reminding everyone not to lag behind, his gestures sharp and precise even in causal clothes.

Kirishima and Denki were a few steps behind, laughing at something half stupid, Denki’s hands flying as he mimicked some exaggerated movements. Sero tagged along with them, Tokoyami not far behind, silent and steady. Dark shadow flitted around him, whispering low, unintelligible words that blended with the sound of passing cars.

Todoroki walked quietly, hands in pockets, expression unreadable. He didn’t bother joining in on any conversation, but his gaze would flicker towards people, listening in. 

Deku stayed close to the middle of the group, his hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched. He didn’t speak much, but he would when Kiri or Denki would ask him a question or ask for his input. His eyes stayed low, fixed on the cracks in the pavement as if each step required careful thought.

Bakugo walked ahead, jaw tight and arms crossed. The noise of the group gritted on his nerves, the constant laughter, the pointless chatter, but he pushed through it, focusing on the rhythm of his own steps. His gaze drifted to Deku again, just briefly, before snapping back forward. 

The city lights brightened as they drew closer to the party, neon signs and glowing windows casting a soft haze across the sidewalk. The air buzzed faintly with distant music, the kind of pulsing rhythm that promised noise, lights, snd more chaos waiting for them at the end of the short walk.

And still, they moved together, side by side, a strange mix of silence and laughter, tension and ease, each carrying their own weight toward the night ahead. Deku and Bakugo both had more weight on them though, even without actively talking or interacting with each other, they were somehow still clearly annoyed at one another.

As they reached the end of the warehouse, the group began to slow, its steel frame loomed tall against the night sky. From the outside, it looked abandoned, rust creeping along the metal sling and the wide double doors dented and weather-worn. But as the group began to draw even closer, the thrum of music pulsed through the ground, low and steady, vibrating in their chests.

Mina was the first to push the door open, and the scene inside swallowed them whole.

The vast interior had been transformed completely. Silver string decorations crisscrossed overhead, catching the glow of blue lights that washed over the entire space. The strings shimmered like a spiders web, gleaming every time the light shifted, making the ceiling look alive, as if it was flowing to the beat of the music. 

“Woahhhh,” Denki whispered, staring in awe at his surroundings. 

The concrete floor vibrated faintly beneath their shoes, the bass heavy and unrelenting, playing the song “Turn me on” by David Guetta and some Nicki Minaj (he thinks at least). 

Mina gasped softly, tugging Uraraka’s arm. “It’s so pretty!” she squealed, spinning once to take it all in. 

Kirishima let out a low whistle. “Man, this is awesome, I’ve seen better though.”

Denki was already grinning ear to ear, eyes darting to the dance floor as if he was ready to dive in headfirst. Sero chuckled, clapping him on the back while Iida muttered something about safety and crowd control. 

Deku lingered near the doorway, his gaze sweeping in the decorations in quiet awe, shoulders relaxing visibly. Todoroki and the rest stayed behind him, eyes lifting to the canopy, expressions unreadable but fixed on the ceiling.

Katsuki stayed where he was, arms crossed, taking it all in with a scowl that masked something else— something unsettled. The lights cast strange shadows across everyone’s faces, sharp angles and blurred edges. He hated how it tugged at him, and how he felt like he couldn’t control the night and how it would go.

As they pushed deeper into the crowd, Deku began to let the beat guide his steps, shoulders swaying faintly. The song changed to “Scream and shout” by will.i.am as he moved with caution, following Denki and Kiri. Deku’s eyes widened, shoulders tensing slightly as many people’s shoulders brushed against him. He took a moment to look behind him, squinting slightly in the overwhelming lights, not something he was used to. 

Everybody in the club

All eyes on us

All eyes on us

All eyes on us 

As he glanced around, he met eyes with Bakugo, and they stared for a few seconds before Deku realized Bakugo wasn’t planning on following them, and he rolled his eyes and turned back ahead. 

Bakugo didn’t loosen up for a second, his shoulders were squared, gaze sharp as he scanned every corner of the room. His jaw worked tight as people brushed past them, some shouting greetings and others too wrapped up in the fun to care. He didn’t trust it, the music, the lights, the noise. He had this stupid feeling he was being watched, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stick up slightly, causing a shiver over the entirety of his body. 

Bakugo stayed back, not more than a stride or two away, but his entire frame was rigid. His eyes tracked Deku the way a soldier would a target— focused, unblinking. Deku’s eyes darted around, mouth curling up slightly in a smile. Bakugo scoffed at the sight, he hated the way the crowd closed in, hated how he was being blinded every few seconds. He hated that he was constantly being touched, nobody giving him space whatsoever, carelessly barging their way past him.

Bakugo, of course, wasn’t smiling. His eyes cut through the crowd like a knife, trailing after the group who decided it would be a smart fucking idea to separate from each other and distance themselves.

Every twitch do a Bakugo’s fists betrayed how much he hated this, how the lights blinded him, how the noise drowned out every sense of control. He stayed somewhat close to the door, just in case he needed to exit in a hurry and get the hell out of there.

”You look like you’re ready to start a fight,” Todoroki said simply, tone calm, almost amused as he fell into step at Bakugo’s side. Todoroki’s mismatched eyes flicked once toward Deku, then back to Katsuki. The contrast between them, Deku warming slowly into the pulse of the party, and Bakugo, coiled tight as a loaded spring, stubborn snd stiff. 

Bakugo didn’t look at him. His gaze stayed pinned on the scene in front of him, jaw taut. “If someone gives me a reason, I will.”

Todoroki hummed. Neither disagreeing nor pressing further. His presence beside Bakugo was steady, not intrusive, like a silent acknowledgement that Bakugo wasn’t the only one who thought someone had to keep watch tonight. 

The others had scattered in their own ways. Mina was somewhere near the center, a wild splash of pink hair against the lights, dancing like the music was made for her. Kaminari was with her, too loud and too reckless, while Sero watched with laughter. A slight curl appeared on Bakugo’s lips at the sight of his “friends” having a good time. At least they were.

Kirishima joined them, his voice booming encouragement even when the songs drowned him out. Uraraka was chatting to some random girl that Bakugo had never seen before and Tokoyami was grabbing drinks, talking to Tetsutetsu.

Bakugo kept himself at the edges, into he eventually got bored and decided to grab a quick drink. He made his way through the crowd until he reached a table with some weird looking punch on it, but Katsuki grabbed a large spoonful regardless. The press of people made his jaw clench. As he looked back towards where everyone was a minute ago, they were no longer there.

The crowd had swept them away and before he knew it, he was a few paces away from the table he literally just grabbed his drink at. What the fuck? It was so crowded that every second, you were being pushed away from people, towards more people, who shoved you into more people. And Katsuki hated people.

Time passed in a haze of noise. The heat of the room grew heavier, sweat beading on the back of his neck. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his scowl fixed snd sharp. The lights pulsed and shifted in endless, dizzying waves. Out of literally nowhere, some fuckass teenager bumped into him, almost shoving him to the floor, and in response the teenager simply scoffed at Bakugo. 

That had done it. Just as he was about to blow that guys ass to pieces, he disappeared into the crowd. Bakugo shoved through the crowd, hands clenches into fists and absolutely done with this shit. He looked should for anyone he could alert he was leaving, but the others were nowhere to be seen. Mina had vanished into a swirl of dancers, Kirishima and Denki probably talking to some chics, he couldn’t see Tokoyami or Sero, even Icy-hot.

Bakugo’s chest heaved and he let out a very loud sigh in annoyance, ready to blast this place to pieces before his eyes found Deku’s form. He took in the sight of the boy, smiling and talking to some random ass extra with a drink in his hand. Bakugo rolled his eyes and heaved towards the green-haired boy. He shoved past a group of people, not giving a fuck that they yelled out after him. 

In an instant, he accosted Deku, startling the boy as he grabbed his wrist firmly, swaying him slightly. “Enough of this,” Bakugo growled under his breath, voice tight. “We’re leaving.”

Deku blinked up at him, confused and surprised. Bakugo tugged at him again, trying to get him to move but the boy protested, standing firm. “Kacchan I’m clearly in the middle of a conversation.”

Bakugo’s jaw clenched, irritation evident in his eyes. “Bold of you to assume I care, now c’mon, move your ass.”

Deku hesitated, taking a step back away from Katsuki. “No, Kacchan. I can’t just walk back myself later when I actually want to leave.”

Bakugo groaned loudly. “No, I’m not taking responsibility if anything happens on your way home, and you being stupid snd getting caught sneaking back in isn’t worth the risk. Quit causing a scene and move.”

”Who’s this hothead?” 

Bakugo turned his eyesight towards the extra that Deku was apparently mid conversation with. He looked him up and down, studying his form. He didn’t fare much for what he looked like, but his dark blue hair and gray eyes pissed him off. He had a headband keeping his shoulder length hair out of his eyes, and in response to Katsuki’s analyzing, he continued what he was saying. 

“Is there a problem?” The boy asked, hand reaching out to touch Bakugo’s shoulder, “He said he wants to stay, so let him stay.” 

At this Bakugo almost lost it, hands curling into fists as he opened his mouth to practically yell at the boy. “Oh, you’ve got some nerve.”

”Akito, it’s fine, I can speak for myself,” Deku sighed as he reached out to lightly shove Bakugo.

Bakugo groaned in response, Deku still not budging. “Move,” he growled, yanking the boy along. No reasoning. No clarification. He just wanted out.

“Kacchan, I’m starting to get really sick of you, you constantly find a way to revoke my happiness, the second I actually have a smile on my face while doing something, you just can’t stand it. I don’t know what I’ve done to you, but if I have to suffer listening to your blasted music, or your yelling, let me get away from it just this once, please.” 

Bakugo had to admit, Deku kind of did have a point. He did blast music snd he did yell, but he had valid reasoning behind it. Regardless, he doesn’t care about what Deku thinks, so he continued to fight back, ignoring  the fact that a few people had turned towards them, wondering what was happening. 

Sick of all this shit, Bakugo decided he didn’t have the patience to argue so he grabbed Deku firmly and dragged him out of there, the boys drink in his hand spilling all over the floor as he was dragged at a 90 degree angle. 

Bakugo didn’t slow or glance back , the world of flashing lights, pulsing music and writhing bodies could burn for all he cared. He barreled through the crowd, Deku stumbling behind hi, protests tumbling over each other, but Bakugo ignored them. “I said move!” Bakugo growled, gripping Deku’s arm with even more force as he could feel him getting caught between crowds of people. 

“I can’t believe you’re doing this!” Deku yelled, voice cracking over the bass, eyes wide with frustration. “ I told you I wanted to stay! You can’t just, just drag me out!”

Bakugo didn’t even flinch, ignoring his protests completely. Deku’s jaw tightened, and as he looked back ahead of them, they were right by the exit. Thank fuck. As soon as Bakugo approached it, he kicked the door open, stumbling outside as Deku tugged him back. He quite literally ended up throwing the boy to the floor in annoyance, shoving outside. 

“What is wrong with you? I can handle myself, Kacchan. You don’t get to make that decision for me! What makes you think you can control me like—” his voice cracked, “Like this!”

As he glanced up to meet Deku’s eyes, the blond noticed he was crying. Tears stained his cheeks, cheeks slightly flushed pink.

”Because you can’t! Fuck Deku, you can’t fucking handle yourself. You’re literally bawling your eyes out right now over me dragging you out of a stupid party!” Bakugo paced around in the same spot. “We’re going back to the fucking room, I’m taking you home, I want to fucking leave and I have since we entered this place.”

”Taking me home?!” Deku shouted, glaring up at him as his hands waved around in the air. “I’m not some child you can drag around Kacchan! You don’t own me! You—”

”Fucking enough!” Bakugo snapped, louder than intended, sparks coming out of his fists. “I don’t care what you fucking think.” He reached out to grab the boy by his shirt, heaving him off the floor and grabbing his arm it’s more force than necessary.

”Kacchan, stop.” More tears ran down Deku’s cheeks as he raised his arm to wipe his tears away with his sleeve. “You’re so, so controlling, it’s insane!”

The tension between them crackled like electricity in the night. Bakugo paused for a second and let go of his grip on Deku to let out a few deep breaths until he realized he was gasping for breath, fists shaking by his sides as he stared down at the boy who’s arm was in his right hand. He didn’t even realize that, out of frustration, his own eyes began to water, and he took a second to gather himself.

Clearly shocked by the sight of Katsuki with tears in his eyes, Deku stared back at him, lips parting and mouth gaping slightly. Deku’s chest heaved, anger still burning in his green eyes, but he didn’t look away. He met Bakugo’s stare head-on, his won glare unwavering. 

Despite the blaring music surrounding them, pounding through the warehouse walls, it remained absolutely silent. So silent a pin could drop and it would sound like a meteor. The tension between them drowned out every single noise to exist in this moment, every noise except for their labored breaths. 

Bakugo didn’t move, didn’t speak. His gaze stayed hard, waiting for resistance, waiting for a fight to flare again.

But Deku broke it, not with words snd not with surrender spoken out loud, but with action. He tore his eyes away, only for a second, then stepped forward. One step, then another. No protests, no declaration, just a quiet acceptance. He was definitely still annoyed, and he was now refusing to talk to Bakugo altogether. 

Bakugo exhaled sharply through his nose and turned, striding down the dim street without a word. Deku followed behind him slightly, his footsteps softer, yet steady. His eyes lingered briefly on Bakugo’s back, lips pressing into a thin, annoyed line even though he didn’t stop walking or turn back around. 

The night swallowed them both, the pounding bass of the party in the distance, leaving only the crunch of gravel beneath their feet and the thick silence that refused to beak.

As they continued to walk, Bakugo’s eyes kept flicking sideways without meaning to. Every scuff of Deku’s shoes shoes on the ground, every uneven step, grated at him. He clenched his jaw. If he opened his mouth, it’d start another argument, and he didn’t have the patience for that.

Still, a knot former low in his stomach, twisting tighter with every block they covered. Something felt off, off in a way he couldn’t ignore. Instead of voicing it, he just shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, eyes fixated on the road ahead of him. As he kept walking, he felt watched, stalked, even. And this wasn’t Deku type stalking, this was proper stalking, the kind that makes you second guess everything.

Something was definitely wrong.

”Oi,” Bakugo almost said, but the word caught in his throat. He scowled at the ground instead, his skin prickled, every instinct buzzing, and he stopped for a second, feet placing themself firmly on the ground before he whipped around in the blink of an eye and blasted an explosion into the darkness behind him. 

“What the—” Deku started, but was cut off as a knife suddenly emerged from the abyss and launched itself towards him, grazing his cheek and ear slightly, causing blood to trickle down his face. He reached a hand up to touch it, yep. That definitely hurt. 

A sudden crash of glass shattered the night, a shadow streaked across the street, quick and jagged. From the mouth of a nearby alley, a laugh rang out—sharp, syrupy and unhinged. “Aww, look at you two. Walking home all alone after a big fight!” The source of the sound giggled to themself, “How unfortunate.”

The source emerged into the light, giving no reaction time as they lunged another knife at Deku, who ducked last second snd merely avoided the knife. In response, Katsuki growled and blasted an explosion towards the person. 

Toga stepped closer to them, pulling a few more knives from her waistband tied around her cargo’s. Her grin stretched ear to ear, her eyes gleamed with a hunger that made the air colder.

“Deku, get the fuck behind me,” Bakugo started, gesturing for the boy to stand behind him, but he didn’t budge. Bakugo glanced behind him for a second, noticing the boy didn’t move. Just as he was about to open his mouth to yell at him, a new source of sound came along.

Heavier, slower. The sound of metal scraping against stone. From the opposite side, a figure emerged, dragging his jagged blade against the ground. The stench of iron filled the street as Stain lifted his head, eyes glowing beneath his mask. 

“We’ve been watching you,” he started, and he clicked his tongue, “Watching, waiting, for the perfect moment to strike. And look what we have here!”

Bakugo’s stomach dropped, the bad feeling crystallizing into certainty. His whole body snapped into fight mode. Right as he was about to sneakily rip his phone from his pockets to alert the others snd call for help, one of the knives shot itself at his hand holding his phone, striking the exact center of the screen. 

Fuck. 

They were screwed, and they had no way of calling for help, and even if they did, they would be into deep shit with Aizawa for being outside after hours in the first place. 

Toga giggled. “Can’t have you calling for help now, can we? Fight like a real fighter Bakugo.”

At this, Bakugo scowled, and another knife came flying his way, aimed at his legs snd meeting its target. Pain severed white-hot through his thigh. The knife sank deep into his leg, just above the knee.

Bakugo’s breath tore out of him in a guttural growl as his body buckled for half a second. Heat flared around the wound, blood already soaking through the shorts, the sharp sting radiating upward. He staggered slightly, squeezing his eyes shut, praying that he would open them and this would all just be a dream. 

“Got you~!” Toga sang, skipping forward slightly with a bounce.

Bakugo lit his palm, sparks snapping furiously, his balance slightly off. Deku’s breath caught, the sound sharp, almost panicked. He moved forward instinctively. Bakugo let out a shaky breath and tried to get his thoughts straight and make a plan. At this, Deku came up behind him and tried to put a hand on his shoulder to show support, but Katsuki just shoved him off.

“Stay back, Deku!” Bakugo snarled, his voice more animal than human. 

“No! Is me literally telling you you’re so controlling not enough to make you realize? You’re doing it right now! I can fight for myself and make my own decisions, now let me step in and try protect you. You’re very clearly injured, just let me—let me do something.”

Deku tried to step in front of him again, attempting to protect him from whatever was going to happen in this alley. Tears welled in the boys eyes and his hands trembled slightly as he got into stance and prepared himself to smash the villains in front of him.

But Stain was already moving in, slow, deliberate, his blade dragging behind him like a promise of blood. Okay Katsuki, take in your surroundings, think logically and come up with the best solution. 

He opened his eyes again, not even realizing he'd squeezed them shut in the first place. He became re-aware of his surroundings, like he’d told himself. He raised his hand to his hair snd frustratedly brushed it out of his eyes. 

He glanced to his left, knives. He glanced to his right, a blade. Both sides closing in on them as Katsuki turned so he was back to back with Deku, both of them having no weapons whatsoever. 

They were surrounded.

Fuck.