Work Text:
Katsuki opened his eyes to the darkness of his dorm room, the sound of gasping breaths being forced out of him, and the flickering light of the explosions going off in his palms. He lurched upwards, suddenly feeling the revolting feeling of hands at his throat and the slime choking him, absorbing him and scrabbled frantically at his neck, leaving fresh scratches of pain, and get them off me-
Katsuki suddenly came to, his thoughts telling his aching neck that you’re in U.A., you’re safe now and he tried to believe them, and he clenched his fists and heard them crack, and slowly brought them down to his lap. Faded memories of a lifetime forgotten flooded through the gates of his consciousness, crushing his heart and crumpling it into pieces. He breathed in as loud as he could, and felt his lungs expand in his chest, then released it all before the fear of choking dying took hold of him again. A few minutes or hours after a series of breaths and narrow escapes, he blinked his eyes and realized his cheeks were warm with tears and sweat- the sickly, sweet smell of nitro-glycerine seeping into his bones. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, an instinctual reflex formed by a foggy memory of nearly exploding his face off as a child.
As reality sank its cold fingernails into Katsuki’s shoulders, he realized he had had a nightmare and woke up having a panic attack again. He didn’t have time for this bullshit; he was already too goddamn busy with school and hero work and having to endure shitty Deku’s face every morning. He didn’t have time to be changing his bedsheets every day because he kept blowing them up in his sleep, something he hadn’t done since elementary school. He needed to get over this shit already- everyone else had, he was the only one who still woke up in a cold sweat with fear gripping his muscles. The sludge villain attack had happened more than a year ago, and Kamino had happened five fucking months ago, dammit-he should have gotten over this five fucking months ago.
Katsuki ran his hands through his hair, which was matted to his forehead and had lost some of its usual spikiness. He messed it up furiously again, taking his anger out on it- but he knew that this was his fault; his hair didn’t cause All Might’s end, he did. Yeah, he knew Deku and All Might had told him otherwise when they fought at Ground Beta a few months ago, but he still couldn’t believe it- because how was it not his fault? He was the one who had gotten kidnapped, while Bird-Head had gotten fucking free- why had he just stood still while he was dragged into that portal? Why hadn’t he used his quirk, or done something? But he couldn’t, and he wasn’t, and he hadn’t, and here he was, having a nightmare months later about it like he was a fucking five-year-old.
Hell- All Might was retired because of him because he couldn’t free himself from some fucking low-life villains. Because as much as he paraded himself around as the best and the future number one hero- he was still the pathetic kid that had to be saved, that was the victim of a fucking sob story. That was the helpless damsel in distress that had to be saved by the hero-but wasn’t he supposed to be one? Wasn’t he supposed to be the one who was strong enough to save others?
How could he even think of saving other people if he couldn’t even save himself?
The room suddenly seemed to be too small, too cramped, too constricted- he needed to get out-
Katsuki scrambled out of bed, flinging his scorched bedsheets onto the floor. He nearly tripped over his school bag, but he opened the door with a push on the handle that nearly broke into two and locked it with a slam, and he was outside in the echoing hallway, with nothing but his heaving breaths accompanying him. His knees buckled, and he fell to the floor, the cold, harsh linoleum sudden to his skin. He felt his shoulders shudder with invisible weight as he forced himself to slow his breaths.
When his breathing became calmer and more rhythmic, he opened his eyes (which he didn’t realise were closed) and looked around the deserted hallway. As expected, he was the only person out of bed, and the hall lights were off, shrouding him in pitch black except for the tiny pinpricks that dotted the windows that overlooked Musutafu. Katsuki slowly rose from his crouched position, internally shivering at the piercing cold that stabbed his feet. He took one final glance around and made his way down the hallway to the common room.
He decided to take the stairs because the beeping of the elevator was too risky; there was a chance he could wake someone up- if he hadn’t woken anyone up already since his dorm neighbour was literally the one guy in his class that could sprout fucking ears from anywhere. He padded as quietly as he could down the stairs, and gratefully thanked Cementoss for existing- there was little to no chance of anything creaking when it was made of cement.
He finally made his way downstairs, and his blood suddenly ran cold because the kitchen lights were on. Shit, was someone already down here? Who the fuck would be up at- shit, what was even the time? Was it morning already? He had assumed the blackness that painted the windows meant it was the middle of the night- if so, who the hell was in the kitchen in the middle of the night?
Wait, be rational, he told himself. Fucking dunce face probably left the lights on before he went to bed- he was probably the last person here since he comes to the kitchen at 9.00 p.m. every night to stock up on snacks to last his nightly insomniac video game session. Fucking dumbass.
He cautiously walked towards the kitchen. He nearly bumped into a few ottomans on the way, but he guessed training was useful in situations other than battle. His agile reflexes and mobility helped him navigate the maze of the Mess Hall quietly and efficiently. Hell, he should become an underground hero at this rate- he could be better than Aizawa at this. He finally arrived, his stomach turning anxiously at the possibility that someone could be there. The possibility of it being a villain-
He blinked his eyes a few times, disoriented by the sudden change in light. And saw a figure sitting at the table- he lifted his arms, ready to explode, ready to fight, ready to do it all over again-
Until he saw wide, coffee-coloured eyes, and bright pink cheeks. His arms relaxed and fell to his sides as he stared in disbelief at the girl before him.
Uraraka?
She was sitting down at the table, nursing a pale pink mug with a caricature of a cat on it. She was wearing a frilled pink tank top, with knee-length grey sweats. Her eyes were wide open, and her cheeks, as always, were flushed pink. The warm light from the kitchen traced the outline of her short, brown hair.
“Bakugo-kun!” She shrieked (quietly) in surprise, nearly dropping her mug. Her already pink cheeks flushed even more.
“...What the fuck are you doing?” Katsuki questioned, his voice hoarser than he expected.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I made myself some tea.” She sipped from her mug as if to illustrate her point. Katsuki wanted to murder her, because- because. He grumbled disjointedly, his voice drowning in annoyance. He wasn’t ready to deal with her yet- her bright, chipper attitude had no place in Katsuki’s life. He already had enough of that with Kirishima.
Katsuki walked towards the racks with all of the dishware in them and picked his cup out of them. Everyone expected Katsuki’s to be all loud and bright, with explosions on it or something, but his was grey and bland. The extras were fucking disappointed, and Katsuki had blown them up because what the fuck did the design of his cup have anything to do with them?
Katsuki filled his cup with water and drank quietly. Uraraka was silent-she’d got the message. He was glad it was her at least, of all his classmates- she knew when to leave him alone. Which was now. Especially now. There was almost a level of companionship in their silence- probably because they understood each other. Ever since the Sports Festival when Katsuki fought her, they had…something. Definitely not friendship- they had only talked less than five times throughout the whole year. They weren’t close- she usually hung around Deku and his other extra friends, but they had an unofficial understanding, sort of like an acknowledgement of each other’s existence.
Bakugo wondered if Deku ever told Uraraka about what Katsuki did to him in middle school. They were close, he was pretty sure he had heard from Ashido that she had a crush on him. Katsuki figured he probably didn’t tell her, because Deku was…Deku. And Uraraka didn’t treat him any differently. So now he has to bear the guilt of literally bullying this girl’s fucking crush. Except Uraraka wasn’t some girl- she was strong, stupidly strong. For a moment in the Sports Festival, Bakugo was scared he might actually lose against her. Her last attack had come out of nowhere, and Bakugo respected her a lot.
The taste of the cold water soothed his throat, and he felt much better now. Right, now time to go back to sleep-
“Hey, Bakugo-kun.”
-and Katsuki realized that he had judged Uraraka way too quickly. That silence wasn’t a comfortable one. Uraraka had just been trying to talk to him and couldn’t figure out what to say. Well, that was on him for overestimating her. Never going to happen again.
He groaned in exasperation. “What do you want.”
Uraraka flinched. “Well, I was just wondering- I don’t mean to be rude, but…why are you up, Bakugo-kun?”
Ah.
“It’s none of your goddamn business, Pink Chee-”
“Bakugo, why do you have marks on your neck?”
Katsuki froze. Shit. He’d completely forgotten about those. What the hell was he supposed to say? Oh, I was out training at one in the morning at got these random scratch marks when I choked myself?
Katsuki turned around, his eyes that of a feral dog backed into a corner. “I said, that’s none of your business.”
Uraraka stood her ground. ‘I’m just worried-”
“-Which you don’t need to be, because it’s none of your goddamn business!” Katsuki hissed in her face.
Uraraka narrowed her eyes, clearly starting to get irritated. “Can you just let me help you?! Those are clearly burn- marks! Just-” Uraraka sighed. “I just want to help. Ever since…ever since Kamino, you’ve been- off. You’re not as…” Uraraka gestured wildly, trying to find the words, and eventually giving up.
“You haven’t been yourself. And I want to help, because…” she trailed off, something flickering in her eyes, but then she gave him a determined look. “Because that’s what heroes do.”
Katsuki blinked, taken aback for a second. Uraraka sure was full of surprises. He opened his mouth, then closed it because he had nothing to say. The look in her eyes made him hesitate. Then they softened, her pupils turning from stone into warm hot chocolate, and Bakugo stayed silent. “I’ll make you some tea.”
Katsuki resisted the urge to refuse furiously and trigger the dorm fire alarms, and instead sighed heavily and slumped into a nearby chair. Uraraka took that as a yes, apparently, because she went over to the stove and began making tea.
If you’d told him yesterday that he would be sitting down and drinking tea with Uraraka Ochaco at one a.m. in the morning, he would have blown you up for messing with him. Uraraka started humming a tune like she didn’t have a care in the world like she didn’t just convince Bakugo Socially Inept Katsuki to have a friendly talk with her over tea. Katsuki’s stomach churned with dread- she was going to ask him about what happened. Katsuki hadn’t told anyone about his nightmares except Kirishima, and Kirishima was different. He and Uraraka barely knew each other.
A nearly numbing silence fell over the both of them. The only sound was the quiet hissing of the kettle as it boiled, as steam rose up from its spout. Uraraka leaned against the countertop and twiddled her thumbs. Katsuki continued to look anywhere else but her face and pretended to appreciate the view of absolute nothingness from the window.
“Bakugo-kun, what’s your favourite colour?”
Katsuki would have flinched if he hadn’t gotten so used to Uraraka’s general… Uraraka-ness. He gave her an unimpressed look that could have melted dry ice. “So that’s Plan B? I don’t open up about my childhood trauma so you ask me about my favourite shade of red?”
Her eyes brightened. “So it is red!”
“No, it’s hot pink.”
Uraraka squinted as if trying to decipher an ancient Sumerian text. “…That’s a shade of red, though, isn’t it?”
“No, Pink Cheeks, my favourite colour is not hot pink!”
Her eyes flickered to the mug in his hand. “Do you have like, a particular aversion to colours or something?”
Katsuki sighed. “No, I just don’t see the fucking point in having a favourite one. Don’t get why people ask for them either- what the hell does it tell me about you that you’re obsessed with sage green?”
“I see your point…” Uraraka furrowed her brow. “I guess it’s just fun! It becomes part of your personality, and it’s nice to know, so then you can get your friends presents in that colour!”
“That’s fucking dumb.”
“No, it isn’t, you’re just boring.”
Just as Katsuki prepared to become an active suspect in a homicide case, the kettle stopped boiling, making a fwoosh sound as the water bubbled inside. Uraraka jumped and rushed towards the kettle, opening a random cabinet to get a teabag (was that from Momo’s expensive tea brand?).
“Can I have your mug, Bakugo-kun?”
“No,” he said, as he gave her his mug.
“Thank you!”
(Why the fuck was she thanking him? She’s the one making the tea.)
“So,” Uraraka said in a sing-song tone as she steeped the tea, “Hypothetically, if you did have a favourite colour, what would it be?”
“Hypothetically, I would fall off a cliff and die before I told you.”
“Hypothetically, I would have already used my quirk on you so you can’t fall.”
“I would report you to the Quirk Regulations Organisation, and then fucking stab you. Hypothetically.”
“You wouldn’t stab me if I made you tea.” She slammed the mug down in front of him, so hard that some spilled out.
“What the fuck makes you think I won’t? I have no moral compass. Also, that was a hypothetical scenario in which you did not make me tea.”
“Shut up and drink your tea, Bakugo-kun.”
“Fuck you.”
Fucking Pink Cheeks and her fucking tea- wait, why is he- Katsuki realised with alarm that he had actually been enjoying the conversation. Sure, Uraraka was still annoyingly chipper and was way too fucking smiley about everything, but she was good to talk to. She matched his energy, spitting back witty comebacks, but she didn’t take shit from him either. It was easy to slip into- frighteningly easy.
Still Katsuki is nothing if not petty- he’ll drink his fucking tea, alright. He tilted his head back, unblinking eyes piercing into Pink Cheeks’ soul, and fucking poured the tea down his throat (It burned like hell, and he probably won’t be able to speak for the next four business days. Uraraka stared at him with something in her eyes akin to psychological horror. He did not blink.)
Katsuki stood up right as he finished the tea. He inhaled deeply, then sighed a sigh heavier than the gravitational pull of the Sun. “Thanks.”
Uraraka blinked. “…No problem, Bakugo-kun. Hey, how did you that?”
“Do what?” He said, going to the sink to wash his mug, and turning on the tap.
She stared as he placed the mug on the class shelf, efficiently drying his hands with a towel. “You know what. Forget I said anything.”
Katsuki looked at her weirdly. “Okay…What fucking time is it?”
Pink Cheeks checked her watch. “Like. 2 am.”
He groaned, running his hand over his face. “Shit, we have training tomorrow.”
Uraraka sighed. “Oh well. It can’t be helped. We should probably go back to bed now, and try and get some rest.”
“Fat-fucking chance of that happening.” Katsuki scoffed- then glanced at Uraraka. “Wait. You said you couldn’t get to sleep- do you have insomnia or some shit?”
“No…it’s just that…” She bit her lip. “I was just thinking- everyone’s so far ahead of me. In training, schoolwork, everything. And this whole other thing with Deku, ‘cause, we’re… friends, right? But sometimes I feel like there’s things he’s not telling me, and I just. Sometimes it gets a little much, you know? The pressure to always do your best. But then, that’s even worse, ‘cause I feel so guilty- this is just our first year! It’s only going to get harder, I have to try harder. How can I even think of being a hero who saves others when I can barely take care of myself?”
Her voice cracks at the very end, and then fear runs through her, tears pricking her eyes. She said too much, she showed too much of herself, and now she just feels stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why is she saying all of this to Bakugo of all people? It’s not like he would understand. Her failings are hers and hers alone, it’s her responsibility to work on them! Bakugo was the sort of person who hated self-pity, much less tolerated it. This was the kind of stuff she would tell Tsu-chan, or even Iida- anyone but Bakugo! Oh god, she’s made things so awkward-
“You’re not falling behind.” Ochako looks up in shock, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. Bakugo isn’t looking at her, but glaring at something invisible in the distance. “You’re one of the strongest people in the class. So what, sometimes it’s hard to fucking push through shit. Sometimes you fail a test or you lose a fight. That doesn’t mean-”
He blinks, suddenly. Looks at her with wide eyes, like he just figured out something important. Bakugo looks away again, scowling. “It doesn’t mean you’re weak, or that you’ll make a bad hero. It just means you’re a normal fucking human being.”
Uraraka is quiet, for a moment.
(Oh, shit, he’s scared her off.)
Katsuki sighed. “Look. The reason I came down here- I had a nightmare.”
Her eyes soften.
That just makes him feel even more embarrassed, so he looks away anywhere but her and keeps going with gritted teeth. “I’ve been having them since Kamino, and they’re all shitty and annoying. I thought…I thought the same thing that you did. That…if I can’t deal with some shitty nightmare, I’m not good enough to be a hero.”
He takes a shuddering breath. “But…I’m trying to be…better, than thinking stuff like that. And it’s not good, to think like that.” Katsuki glances at her, then looks away again, ears going red. “You shouldn’t think like that.”
Ochako blinks, then huffs a small laugh. “I’m happy, Bakugo-kun, that you trusted me with that. And thank you, for…knocking some sense into my head. I think I really needed that.”
He blinks and nods uncertainly. He still seemed preoccupied with something, an unfocused look in his eyes. Ochako stood up, stretching her arms, muffling a yawn with her hand. “Good night, Bakugo-kun.”
“Oi, Pink Cheeks!”
Ochako looks back, and Bakugo’s standing up now. There’s this look on his face like he’s hesitating, this something in his eyes that flickers a little. “About Deku…”
Oh. Yeah. She did say something about him, didn’t she.
Still, she lets him take his time.
“Deku is an idiot. But he isn’t an idiot who would…purposefully hurt your feelings like that. Whatever he’s hiding- he’s not hiding it because he doesn’t trust you.”
Bakugo chews his lips, trying to string the words together.
“He probably has other reasons for why he can’t tell you. You should talk to him yourself.”
…Look, Ochaco wasn’t an idiot.
She knew that Bakugo likely knew why Deku’s been so distant. It makes sense: they’re childhood friends, and even though they’re rivals, and Bakugo’s almost always yelling at him, he knows Deku the best. And Bakugo knows, better than Ochako, even, how selfless and kind he is.
“…Okay, Bakugo-kun,” She said softly. “I’ll take your word for it.”
…………………………………………………………………………………………………
Even though she just stayed up the whole night overthinking, something about that conversation left her feeling…renewed. Like she was finally releasing something that she had been using her quirk on for months, letting it fall to the ground and shatter into a thousand pieces. Ochako thought back to her fight with Bakugo at the Sports Festival, to the look in his eyes when she had released the thousands of tonnes of rock and debris. The exhilaration that dripped down his face when he had won by a hair’s breadth. The respect that he had gained for her that day, with how close she was to winning.
“What part of her was weak?”
“It doesn’t mean you’re weak, or that you’ll make a bad hero…”
Ochako thought about a lot of things that night. But when the sun slipped through her window in the morning, she couldn’t help but think that Bakugo would make a great hero too.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………..
To absolutely nobody’s fucking surprise, Katsuki feels like shit.
The rest of the night had still been plagued by restless dreams- not nightmares, per se, but still. He overslept by half an hour, and sure, the glycerine in his sweat meant he physically couldn’t get eyebags. It didn’t make him feel less like roadkill.
His oversleeping also means that he’s not the first person in the kitchen come morning, which is annoying because now he can’t scarf down a protein shake and leave before the rest of his idiot classmates pour in. So today, when he makes his bleary way to the kitchen, he’s met with at least a dozen people all chatting and making breakfast. Everyone looks up when he arrives because usually, no one except Kirishima would even catch a glimpse of him before class starts.
(It doesn’t help that they’ve all been on edge around him ever since Kamino.)
“Hey, Bakubro! Why’re you up so late?” The forced sincerity and casualness makes his skin crawl. Plus Pikachu is the first who’s brave enough to ask, so Katsuki rewards him by putting him in a headlock.
After that’s taken care of, he gets to work making his goddamn protein shake. No one else is stupid enough to meet Kaminari’s tragic fate.
“Oh, good morning, Bakugo-kun!”
Katsuki looks up. It’s Uraraka, and she looks like how Katsuki feels. She’s hiding a yawn in her elbow, eyes squinting at the bright light. She blinks a couple of times and gives him a tired smile.
The rest of the extras go silent, waiting with bated breath for Uraraka to become the second casualty of the morning.
Bakugo blinks. “What the fuck happened to you?” (As if he very well didn’t know.)
She laughs. “Oh, well, you know how it is- you start reading a shoujo manga online and next thing you know you’ve gotten through sixty chapters and then it’s five a.m.”
Uraraka’s good at lying, he’ll give her that. But now that he knows she’s lying, it’s easy to see the tells. Her hand sheepishly goes to her neck, and her eyebrows tilt in an awkward way.
He scoffs. “Fucking idiot. You want coffee?”
Thirteen pairs of eyes widen in shock, horror, and disbelief.
She gives him a surprised look, which quickly melts into a smile. “Nah- some tea would be great, though. I don’t like the taste of coffee.”
(“…Are you seeing this, Mina?” Jirous whispers conspiratorially.
“He offered her coffee.” Mina whispers back, poorly masked glee evident in her tone. “I think he needs to go to Recovery Girl.”)
He raises an eyebrow. She can see the hidden question- Tea, again?
She opens her mouth to respond, but then Hagakure chimes in loudly (and kind of hysterically?). “What? You don’t like coffee?! How can you survive without it?”
…And then the kitchen bursts into a debate about coffee, and how there must be some type of coffee you like, Uraraka-chan, you can’t be a complete heathen. Katsuki takes advantage of the distraction to start grabbing a tea bag from the cabinets, while Uraraka is flooded with indignant questions.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………..
(As she banters with the class, however, something clicks in Ochako’s mind. She looks over at Bakugo, as he makes his own drink, but the kettle boils, a comforting hissing.
“You haven’t been yourself. And I want to help, because that’s what heroes do.”
He’s saying thank you. In his own, weird, twisted Bakugo way.
Ochako laughs to herself. One of these days, she has to know what his favourite colour is. Maybe she could get him a present. That’s what friends do, right?)
…………………………………………………………………………………………………
fin