Chapter Text
Bakugou wasn’t stupid.
He knew he’d been off lately.
His punches weren’t weaker, his shouting hadn’t stopped, and he still called half the class extras when they got on his nerves—but there were... gaps.
Empty moments where his brain fuzzed out and left him
staring at nothing.
Like now.
Sitting at his desk. Chin propped in his palm.
Staring out the window while his fingers twitched restlessly against the wood.
"Bakugou."
His head jerked up.
Aizawa stood at the front of the classroom.
Giving him that flat, unreadable stare.
"Class dismissed. Bakugou, stay behind."
Bakugou scowled, sinking lower in his seat.
Kirishima shot him a worried glance on the way out.
Kaminari whispered something to Mina and Sero, all three hesitating near the door like they weren’t sure if they should wait for him.
Jirou paused too, her headphones hanging loose around her neck.
Bakugou glared until they finally filed out.
The door clicked shut.
The air felt heavier instantly.
For a beat, neither of them spoke.
Bakugou crossed his arms, still slouched in his chair, already defensive.
"If this is about my grades, I’m still passing. B-average isn’t failing."
Aizawa stayed where he was, leaning back against the edge of his desk with arms crossed. "This isn’t about your grades."
That threw him off.
Bakugou shifted in his seat, scowling harder just to cover it.
Aizawa’s voice stayed even, steady.
"Your classmates are concerned about you."
Bakugou scoffed. "Tch. Nosy idiots."
"They care." Aizawa didn’t blink. "Even if you won’t admit it."
Bakugou opened his mouth with something sharp and sarcastic ready—but nothing came out.
Because… yeah, they were idiots. But...
Lately he hadn’t shoved Kirishima away when he draped an arm over him.
Hadn’t barked when Kaminari cracked jokes too close to his ear.
Hadn’t told Mina or Sero or even Jirou to back off when they crowded him.
Maybe because it took too much energy to push them away.
Maybe because… he didn’t really want to.
Aizawa exhaled like he was choosing his words carefully.
"What happened at the Sports Festival…"
A pause.
"It wasn’t handled the way it should have been."
Bakugou’s stomach twisted.
His fists curled tight in his lap.
"You were restrained. Muzzled. On live television."
Aizawa’s tone was low but firm.
"That shouldn’t have happened. If I’d been there, I wouldn’t have allowed it."
Bakugou froze.
His throat tightened so hard it hurt.
He hadn’t thought about it for weeks—or maybe he’d been thinking about it constantly, without realizing.
That metal biting his skin.
The weight of the whole stadium’s eyes—millions more through cameras.
Caged.
On display.
Like a villain.
His breathing turned shallow.
"It wasn’t your fault," Aizawa said.
Bakugou blinked fast, vision blurring at the edges.
His heart punched against his ribs.
He swallowed hard.
Managed to whisper—quiet, small, not like him at all—
"...Can I please… go now?"
Aizawa visibly paused at the meekness in his voice.
But he gave a slow nod.
Bakugou stood too fast, nearly knocking over his chair,
and bolted for the door.
Out of the classroom.
Down the hallway.
Moving fast enough to make heads turn, but too focused on the clawing pressure in his chest to care.
His lungs weren’t working right.
Each breath came too fast, too shallow.
His heart felt like it was punching a hole through his ribs.
By the time he hit the main doors of the school building,
he barely registered the cold air against his skin.
Not here. Not in front of them. Not like this.
His hands shook worse with every step as he sprinted across campus, past students milling around for after-school clubs and conversations.
Their voices blurred together.
Faces blurred too.
Just colour and noise and staring eyes.
Bakugou didn’t slow.
Didn’t look back.
When he reached the dorm building,
he threw the door open with a bang loud enough to make
the entire common area flinch.
Inside, Midoriya, Kaminari, Yaoyorozu, and Iida were scattered around the couches—halfway through snacks and homework.
Every head snapped towards him.
Bakugou stood there—
Pale.
Shaking.
Gasping for air like he couldn’t get enough,
no matter how hard he pulled it in.
Chest heaving.
Hands trembling like live wires.
Midoriya froze, eyes going wide. " K-Kacchan… w-what the hell…?"
Iida jolted to his feet, eyes wide behind his glasses. "Bakugou…?
Are you alright?!"
None of them had time to act.
Bakugou bolted for the stairs without a word.
Ignored the elevator entirely.
Two steps at a time, stumbling but never stopping.
Kirishima, already halfway out of his seat from the second Bakugou appeared, was gone before anyone else could react.
He sprinted for the elevator, punching the button over and over.
" C’mon... hurry up… " he muttered, bouncing on the balls of his feet until the doors opened.
As the elevator climbed, Kirishima’s heart pounded almost as hard as Bakugou’s footsteps thudded up the stairs.
If he timed it right...
The doors slid open on Bakugou’s floor just as Bakugou stumbled down the hallway, almost missing his turn at his own dorm room.
" Bakugou! " Kirishima called out.
No response.
Bakugou’s hands shook so badly he nearly dropped his keys trying to unlock the door.
Kirishima reached him just as he shoved it open and stumbled inside.
Without thinking, Kirishima followed.
Bakugou crashed to the floor next to his bed, back pressed against the wall.
Knees pulled tight to his chest.
His breathing came in short, ragged bursts, chest rising and falling too fast to keep up.
His hands wouldn’t stop trembling.
His whole body shook like he was about to tear apart at the seams.
Kirishima knelt down in front of him, heart breaking at the sight.
"Hey… Bakugou, it’s okay. I’m here,"
Kirishima said softly, keeping his voice steady.
"You’re safe now, yeah? Just… just try to breathe with me."
Bakugou squeezed his eyes shut,
shaking his head like that was impossible.
"Alright, that’s okay," Kirishima said quickly.
"You don’t have to talk. Just… copy me, okay?"
Kirishima exaggerated each breath for him to follow-
Slow inhale… hold… slow exhale.
At first, Bakugou couldn’t match it.
His breaths stayed fast, desperate, panicked.
But Kirishima stayed right there.
Counting for him.
Keeping his tone low, gentle, unshakable.
Little by little, Bakugou’s breathing shifted From choking gasps
To shaky, uneven breaths
To something just barely under control.
When the worst of it finally passed, Bakugou stayed slumped against the wall, completely drained.
His hands still shook in his lap, like his body hadn’t caught up with the fact he could breathe again.
Kirishima helped him to his feet.
Slow and careful, guiding him over to sit on the edge of the bed.
Bakugou’s room felt like him.
Dark greys and muted oranges.
The bedding was a deep charcoal, with faint burn-mark stains near the edges from late-night stress training.
A cracked All Might figurine sat dusty on the desk,
shoved between old workout schedules and notebooks.
Resistance bands and a single dumbbell sat forgotten in the corner.
A half-empty bottle of water lay on the floor like it had been kicked under the bed and never retrieved.
It wasn’t messy.
But it wasn’t exactly lived-in either.
"You wanna talk?" Kirishima offered.
Bakugou shook his head.
Fast.
Almost panicked.
"Do you… want me to leave?"
Another head shake.
Even faster.
Like the idea physically hurt.
Like being alone right now was the worst thing Kirishima
could possibly suggest.
Kirishima felt his heart ache a little at that.
He smiled. Small, soft. Reassuring. "Okay. I’m staying."
Without another word, Kirishima climbed onto the bed,
sitting close but not crowding him.
Bakugou didn’t hesitate this time.
He curled in.
Pressed against Kirishima’s side like pride and reputation didn’t exist. And Kirishima…Kirishima held him.
Let him stay there as long as he needed.
Bakugou was asleep.
His head rested heavily against Kirishima’s shoulder,
warm breaths slow and uneven against his arm.
Kirishima barely dared to move.
His heart hadn’t stopped racing since the moment Bakugou collapsed onto the floor.
Even now, with him finally sleeping, Kirishima sat frozen—staring at the far wall like it might offer answers.
What the hell just happened?
He replayed the day over and over in his mind.
Bakugou had been off in class.
Well… he’d been off for a while.
Spaced out.
Twitchy.
More distant than usual, but still trying to play it cool.
Then Aizawa called him back after class when Bakugou came back…
Like that.
Pale.
Shaking.
Gasping for air like he was drowning.
Kirishima tightened his hold on him unconsciously.
A soft knock at the door made him flinch.
He glanced down at Bakugou who was still asleep, thankfully.
Then he carefully shifted, lowering him gently onto the bed.
Moving slow. Gentle.
Making sure not to wake him.
Bakugou stirred a little but didn’t wake.
Kirishima shuffled over to the door and cracked it open just enough to poke his head out.
"Hey," he whispered.
Iida, Midoriya, and Yaoyorozu stood outside,
all three looking equally concerned and equally confused.
Midoriya blinked at him, already opening his mouth to speak
but Kirishima held up a hand quickly.
"He’s asleep… he’s okay," Kirishima said softly before any of them could blurt something out too loud.
"Just… tired."
Iida frowned, voice lowering but still tense.
"Is he ill? Should we call Recovery Girl?"
Kirishima shook his head. "No—it wasn’t like that. He…"
Kirishima paused, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously.
"He had a panic attack."
That made all three of them freeze.
Midoriya’s eyes went wide. "K-Kacchan had a… a panic attack?"
Like the idea itself didn’t compute.
"Yeah,It was bad. I’ve never seen him like that."
Kirishima said quietly, glancing over his shoulder toward the bed.
He swallowed hard,
The memory of Bakugou on the floor still sharp and gut-twisting.
"I don’t know what triggered it. I mean… he was acting kinda off in class, but… I don’t know what Aizawa said to him. Whatever it was… it hit him hard."
Yaoyorozu touched her fingertips to her mouth, her brows drawn together with worry.
"Poor Bakugou…"
"I… I believe it’s best we let him rest for now," Iida said,
adjusting his glasses, though the tightness in his voice betrayed how rattled he was.
"If he wakes up and wishes to talk, we’ll be here for him."
Kirishima nodded quickly. "Yeah… Thanks, guys. Seriously."
Midoriya lingered a second longer, looking like he wanted to ask more questions… but in the end, he just nodded.
Kirishima gave them a small wave goodbye and quietly closed the door.
The room fell silent again.
Kirishima let out a shaky breath and made his way back to the bed.
Bakugou hadn’t moved much.
Still curled slightly on his side, hands tucked close like he was bracing for impact even in sleep.
Kirishima sat back down beside him, watching him for a long moment before carefully placing a hand on his shoulder,
steady, reassuring.
"I’ve got you, man," he whispered.
And stayed right there.
A few hours passed.
The room stayed quiet, dim with the late afternoon light filtering through the blinds. The world outside moved on, but in Bakugou’s dorm… time felt still.
Kirishima hadn’t slept.
He stayed curled up on Bakugou’s bed, holding him close, protective in a way he didn’t even try to hide.
One arm loosely around Bakugou’s waist,
the other resting near his shoulder like some kind of silent shield.
Bakugou’s breathing had evened out after the panic attack,
deep and steady with sleep but Kirishima’s own heart hadn’t slowed.
He stayed awake.
On guard.
Ready to fight off… whatever or whoever had put that broken look on Bakugou’s face.
Kirishima didn’t care if it was a villain or the whole damn school.
Whatever it was…
Whoever it was…
He wanted to destroy the sadeness reflected in his best friends face.
Eventually, Bakugou stirred.
It started with a slow shift of weight.
A soft groan.
And then… drowsy red eyes cracked open,
blinking up at the ceiling in confusion.
Kirishima held his breath for a second,
expecting Bakugou to jolt away or yell at him for being too close.
But… he didn’t.
No explosions.
No cursing.
No knee-jerk shove.
Bakugou just blinked a little slower this time… then let his head fall sideways against Kirishima’s shoulder like it was the most normal thing in the world.
"Hey~" Kirishima whispered with a small, tired smile.
"How’re you feeling?"
Bakugou let out a wide yawn. "Tired."
Kirishima let out a soft laugh.
"Ha—yeah. I bet. You’ve had quite a day."
There’s a small beat of silence hung between them.
The air felt lighter but still heavy enough with the weight of what hadn’t been said yet.
Kirishima shifted just enough to tilt his head down toward him. "…Ready to tell me what happened?"
Bakugou groaned low in his throat, shoving his face into the blanket like a sulking child.
"Urgh... Hair for braaains…" he whined.
Kirishima smiled sadly, reaching down to ruffle his hair gently. "C’mon, Bakubro… I just… I wanna help you. Please? Just tell me what’s going on."
Another long pause.
Kirishima held his breath.
Finally… Bakugou shifted again.
He sat up slowly,
dragging in a shaky breath and staring hard at the floor like it had personally wronged him.
"It’s… about the Sports Festival," he mumbled.
Kirishima stayed quiet.
Just listening.
Giving him space.
Bakugou’s hands clenched in the blanket.
His voice stayed low and rough… almost hoarse from sleep…
or from holding it in for too long.
"Being chained up like that… muzzled… it didn’t just piss me off."
His jaw tightened.
"It…scared me… it humiliated me. In front of millions of people."
His throat worked like he was physically forcing the words out.
"They made me look like… like a villain. Like some animal that needed to be restrained. On TV. With the whole damn world watching."
Kirishima’s heart cracked at that.
But still—he didn’t interrupt.
Just shifted closer and let Bakugou keep going.
"I thought I had my whole life planned out" Bakugou muttered,
voice bitter and tired.
"But after that day? After that… it’s like…"
He hesitated then let the real gut-punch fall.
"If that’s what being a hero is…" His hands shook slightly as he tightened them into fists.
"I don’t wanna be one."
Kirishima sucked in a breath, heart dropping to his stomach.
Bakugou buried his face in his hands.
"How the hell am I supposed to trust them after that? The teachers… the pros… the people who’re supposed to protect us…?"
His voice cracked at the edges.
"They’re the ones who… chained me up… like I was some…
dangerous freak they couldn’t even trust to stand still."
Kirishima reached out without hesitation and took one of Bakugou’s fists in both his hands.
Holding it.
Firm but gentle.
Bakugou didn’t pull away.
"Ever since then," Bakugou whispered,
"even if I don’t want to… I keep… questioning stuff. Like… am I actually safe here? Or are they just waiting for me to snap again…?"
Kirishima squeezed his hand. "You are safe," he said quietly.
"At least… with me, you are."
Bakugou’s breath hitched, but he didn’t argue.
Kirishima didn’t say any of the easy, shallow things like
"they didn’t mean it" or "they were just doing their job."
He just stayed there.
Holding Bakugou’s shaking hand.
Letting him vent.
Letting him crumble without fear of judgment.
And when Bakugou finally stopped talking,
when the words ran dry and he sat there shaking,
breathing hard and eyes burning
Kirishima pulled him into another hug.
No hesitation.
No distance.
Just… pure, stubborn loyalty.
"I’ve got you, Bakubro. No matter what." Kirishima whispered.
Bakugou stayed quiet.
But for the first time in days…
He felt safe, protected even if his pride insisted he didn’t need protecting.