"Fucking figures," Bakugou mumbles to himself as he walks down a hall toward his room. "Because why the hell not?"
His time at U.A. was built on unfortunate fucking circumstances. The gods apparently liked to pile it on, and then set things on fire for good measure. And the only person with the stupid extinguisher is dying for someone the fuck else.
"What a joke." He scoffs to himself.
The memory of green rose petals stained red in Uraraka's hand replays (because brains are fucking stupid sometimes) and sends a sudden wave of searing heat through his heart. He hunches a bit as he unlocks the door to his room.
Not bothering to close it behind him, he quickly stumbles in, the surge of pain sends him to his knees at his wastebasket just in time to hack into it, gagging and gasping with every ragged draw of his breath.
It's disgusting.
It's torturous.
It's absolutely fucking terrifying.
Before this, he thought that he was playing things cool, that things would get better if he just shoved her away like an old book on a shelf - just better to let this one go unread.
But one glance into the wastebasket shows that it won't be that easy.
It's getting worse.
He lets out a hoarse scream at the sight of small white Tsubaki petals at the bottom of the bin. No longer buds, but small open blooms, mocking him. Destroying him.
This is proof, as he's come to find that maybe it won't get better. So where the hell does that leave him?
The thought of chocolate brown eyes in the afterglow of a hard-won battle comes unbidden, and he stops a few times to swallow back a metallic tang. He shudders, and spits up again; this time only bringing up petals and blood.
"Ngh! Fuck." He gasps for fresh air, winded from the whole experience.
"Shit."
Bakugou whips around at the sound of the voice.
"Get out Kirishima." He demands. He sounds gruff to his own ears like he's on the brink of losing his voice.
"What's going on?"
"Get. The fuck. Out." He points at the door, yelling this time, hoping Kirishima will just fucking listen for once.
"Nah. This looks serious," Kirishima says, closing the door behind him and leaning against it, arms crossed like he's ready to block it all day. "And the way I see it, you're acting your typical stubborn self."
"I'll explode you through it then." Bakugou stands up, unsteady but already summoning the slow burn that ignites his sweat.
"You could." Kirishima drops his bag and calmly raises his hands. "But then you wouldn't be able to talk about what's bothering you. And...well, judging by the confused and injured Uraraka you left outside," Kirishima gestures behind him with his head, then points at Bakugou, "and the blood on your mouth, I'm willing to bet whatever I just heard you yacking up wasn't your lunch."
Bakugou has to really think about what approach he wants to take here. Part of him knows that whatever the damage, Kirishima can handle going through a steel door...maybe. But the other part of him is just tired, and though he wouldn't admit it in a million fucking years, he's scared.
He settles on an exasperated "Tch" before waving Kirishima off and sitting back down on the floor in exhaustion.
"I gotta say, man, I was so caught up helping Midoriya and Uraraka that I hadn't noticed. Uraraka said you were upset, so she wanted to hang with me, and I just took it as business as usual. I'm sorry."
Fucking traitor. "You sure like yappin'."
"Yeh, well, you sure like brooding." Kirishima chuckles, sliding down the door to take a seat on the floor as well. "And before you do more of that, I just wanna let you know, that wasn't very cool leaving Uraraka cold and wet with a dislocated shoulder, and her mouth all bleeding like that. Mina helped her to the infirmary." He admonishes. Bakugou's fist involuntarily balls. He hadn't meant to do that.
"Seriously Bakugou, I know you think she's tough, but you gotta ease up."
Bakugou's scoffs, annoyed. The sort of patronizing tone Kirishima and the others still tend to have for her pisses him off. Though he doesn't want to "defend" her, because she can do that on her own, he certainly wants to make it clear, he and Uraraka fight on even ground.
"She almost choked me out!" He shouts, thinking about the excited look in her eyes just before she'd leapt onto him. The thought is just endearing enough to make him double over, hissing as his chest thuds away in a shot of excitement that turns instantly into pain like his body is reprimanding him for the mere thought of her.
"Whoa-whoa! Easy dude. Here, I got an extra thermos. I brought it for Midoriya but...I guess he won't be requiring my services anymore." Kirishima digs around in his bag for the recently warmed beverage.
"What the fuck does that mean?" He asks, trying focus on anything else but Uraraka.
"It means, you need this more now. Drink up." He insists.
Kirishima rolls the container over to Bakugou who snatches it up and twists off the top, the aroma of warm tea wafting to his nose. He takes a drink.
"So...how long?" Kirishima asks.
The liquid feels soothing on Bakugou's raw throat. He's begrudgingly grateful Kirishima doesn't know when to quit. "A little over a month. Thought it was a cold."
"What's in the trash?"
"What do you think?"
"I mean what stage?" Kirishima clarifies, giving a speck of attitude.
Bakugou's angry visage drops, and he hopes he just looks as worn as he feels. "Buds but…"
"Oh, good, we've got time..." Kirishima interrupts, almost laughing a bit with relief. That doesn't make Bakugou feel better.
"...they're starting to bloom now."
"Oh."
There it is. Reality.
"Still small, but, I can feel it now."
Kirishima nods, looking at the floor in thought.
At no point ever, would Bakugou have considered that this would be how he'd meet his end.
Dying in a blaze of glory, giving his all against a villain - yeh, that was more his style. But not like this. Not months before graduation, heart, and lungs filling dangerously with, of all fucking things, flowers.
How the hell is he suppose to fix this?
"Bakugou…ya know, Uraraka came to me for help with Midoriya. She's kinda…"
"Spare me Shitty-Hair. I already know she's coughing up green roses." The 'I'm-a-fucking-dead-man' is implied, but Kirishima doesn't seem to be focusing on that as confusion plays across his face.
"What? Wait, Uraraka? No." He says quickly, crawling a bit closer to Bakugou. "No, I would know. I've been with her almost every day, plotting, working out, whatever, for the past two weeks, I'd know if she were having symptoms."
"Well isn't that fucking swell for you," Bakuoug says, unable to hide his jealous tone. Which is funny because he has no idea what he would've done if Uraraka had come to him about Deku. Probably just thrown up his whole heart. That would be appropriate.
"Hey now, she said you were avoiding her. What was I supposed to do, not help? Either way, the point still stands, Uraraka isn't sick."
"But I saw it earlier. Cheeks had a wad of tissue filled with it, pulled it out of her pocket and shoved it back in like she got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She had blood in her mouth."
"When? Today?"
"Just outside!"
"During the game?"
"Are you listening?!"
"Yeh! And I'm telling you, you've got it wrong! She does...sorta have feelings for him, not really, least, not anymore. But Uraraka does not have Hanaki's over Midoriya. She'd be dead for sure if she did because he just confessed to Todoroki at the end of the game today! He beat it, by the skin of his teeth. That had to have been his tissue. He told us not to say anything about it. Plus, she bit her tongue, of course she was bleeding."
No.
No. Nah.
Is that a smidgen of hope he's feeling?
Blow him down, now he feels like a presumptuous pining asshole. But he won't say that. "You shitting me?"
"No, I wouldn't lie to you. But, Bakugou, she's been...really confused about all of this. If we're gonna get you out of this, you gotta go and talk to her man. Soon...now - yesterday. I tried to convince her to focus on training her moves, but then she just got more upset about you, so we've been upping her gym game and just...talking. She has this really idealized way of thinking about love. Like she'd be betraying her feelings for Midoriya as if they weren't real if she felt something for others. I think she's finally got it, but…Bakugou?"
Finally. Baukgou's, I'm-tuning-you-the-fuck-out face is being read loud and clear.
"Save it. I'm not talkin' to her."
"What do you mean you're not? Bakugou, if you don't go then…"
"Then I guess I'll die." He says without sarcasm.
Even though he says it, it doesn't sit well.
"You don't mean that. This isn't a joke."
"I look like I'm joking?" He says, swiping at his wastebasket, sending it into his desk. "Admitting it won't do shit. I'm not gonna build…feelings on some fucking pity party."
"No, it's not like that. I understand what you mean, but trust me. Uraraka...I listened to her talk about you. She...cares about you but she's hurt, man. She thinks she did something wrong and she's been agonizing over that while trying to help Deku and let go of whatever she's feeling for him. Even just a bit ago, she seemed so confused, and sad. She said you two were having fun again, and then you just shut down. You gotta tell her what's happening."
Kirishima doesn't understand.
Bakugou hardly gives a shit about feelings or relationships, or…., "love" to begin with - there are bigger things on his mind. There are moves to get down, finals to win, contracts to score, ranks to climb and having someone holding you down doesn't sound like a good way to achieve any of those things.
"Bakugou?"
But if he has to deal with these shitty feelings, he sure as hell doesn't want to force the function. Otherwise, if he talks to her, he'll never know if it was because she wanted to save him, or because she actually…
Oh, fuck feelings.
"Don't you need to be heading out?"
Kirishima sighs like he has many times before this, for a myriad of other things, looking absolutely ready to forge on with the conversation.
"Kirishima," Bakugou says his name with an air of exhaustion he doesn't care to hide.
"Fine." The redhead huffs in frustration. "I'll be back from break on Friday, let me know if you need anything. Or better yet, let Uraraka know!"
Tch.
"Right, right, like you'd ever ask. Anyway, just...there's still time, so, try to make the most of it."
There's a nagging, maybe almost pleading tone to Kirishima's voice that makes Bakugou roll his eyes. As much as he'd like to abide, he just doesn't know what to do, or how to even go about trying.
Kirishima quietly gathers his things and pauses at the door. "And at least try to apologize." He adds before he walks out without looking back.
"Fuuuuck." Bakugou sighs. Is it too much to want to die in peace if this is how he's gonna go?
Bakugou hops up to lock his door and prepares for a nap before dinner. Hopefully, by the time he's up, everyone's gone, and he can cook in peace - Think in peace.
With all that he's learned in these three years at U.A., listening and learning is something he's grown more accustomed to. So he knows Kirishima's probably right. Sometimes he is.
Bakugou figures he will not stoop to revealing his predicament, but since he and Uraraka are meant to double down on training over the break, the least he can do is make shit less awkward with an apology.
Maybe.
Right now he just wants to sleep.
Granted, even that isn't safe anymore when his dreams are only tracks of him and Uraraka taking down villains, circling streets high above the cityscape, waiting to drop like a bomb on anyone in their way.
The feel of her in his arms as they shoot off into the sky. The touch of her hands as they slip through his grasp when he throws her into the fray. The way she clings tightly as they come back together. He imagines reconnecting sometimes comes with a touch of their lips and his body seizes in pain.
It's all so fast and physical. Bakugou tries to reign in the clutch of his heart; otherwise, he'll never drift off.
When he's finally somewhere halfway between awake and asleep, he feels for just a moment the strangest sense of sorrow that those moments he secretly longs for will never be real