Author Note:
I didn't take two months to update. Nope! Not me!
But seriously, sorry about that. I have several more chapters on ao3 but didn't get around to converting them. -^-
I'll try to keep this up! Thanks for reading!
Bakugou clenched his jaw and kept his eyes screwed shut. The ringing in his ears reminded him of earlier that day, when all he could think about was the scritch scratch, though his mind was uncharacteristically blank, empty. In the back of his mind, he barely registered that there was pounding and yelling at his door... right, he had locked it earlier.
He inhaled deeply, the sickly-sweet scent of burnt flesh filled his nose, traveled with the air down his throat and into his stomach, filling him with nausea, but he couldn't seem to force himself to exhale the cursed air.
His ears were foggy and even the ringing seemed to float by as though it had been miles away. All he could taste between his clenched jaw was the awful stinging of his own saliva that had sat in his mouth for too long. Because all of his other senses failed him, he wrenched his eyes open.
He regretted that choice immediately, though not seeing did not and would never mean that it wasn't there and that he wouldn't have to deal with it.
The noises originating from behind his locked door, his only lifeline at the moment, suddenly became much louder–much more real. He wrenched his eyes back shut, though the darkness of his eyelids only greeted him for a moment before his traitorous mind replaced the void with what he had seen.
Deku had been pushed to the other side of the room, leaning against the wall in the center of a large dent, burned with a dislocated wrist. The ropes that had bound him to the chair had splintered, almost completely incinerated save for a few small strands. Several angry red rashes from rope burn were exposed through rips in his pants, though they were insignificant in comparison to the deep burns that covered almost his entire body. All of his white starburst scars and fresh cuts were unnoticeable amidst the pure disaster of his skin.
Fuck.
He scrambled to Deku's side on all four limbs, crawling like an animal—though he literally didn't even notice that he had acted like an inferior coward. Bakugou's vision became blurry once more against his will as he attempted to assess his childhood friend's state.
He practically slammed his head down onto the nerd's chest for the second time that evening, somehow more desperate and anguished than the first. He stayed still, trying to drown out the yells from his mother and his own ears ringing. He needed to hear it, it had to be there. Obviously, it was just like last time, right? Obviously the nerd was just passed out and he would get to yell at him for being a dumbass! That was it!
There was nothing, no heart beat in his body, not at his wrist or his neck or his chest or anywhere. It just wasn't.
A pressure welled up in his chest and the tears finally escaped past his eyelashes. His vision cleared a bit, though that only served to give him a clearer picture of the damage he had done. The fear that lingered in Deku's expression wrenched an uninvited wail from his throat. Bakugou wrapped his arms around his long-time acquaintance's back and neck and pulled him to his chest in a desolate hug.
But as he did so, he froze at the sound of a crunch. He shifted the hand supporting the neck and was met with another cracking sound.
It was the neck.
He didn't even have the capacity to process exactly how his explosion had launched him with enough velocity that the impact against the wall would splinter his spine at its weakest point.
Bakugou felt like throwing up.
It was then that his mind finally registered that his mother was pounding at his door and screaming. He couldn't make out the words, but it all became clear when she finally broken down the door to get inside.
He unconsciously hugged Deku tighter as he looked back at his mother with quivering eyebrows and wobbly lips. Just as she was about to demand to know what happened, she took in the scene fully. She recoiled backwards once her mind processed what her eyes were witnessing and then screamed. At her scream Bakugou's foggy mind finally made a decision–fight or flight.
Flight.
He scrambled to his feet and launched himself out the already shattered window (how had he not noticed that). Using his explosions he propelled himself to the street where he landed crouched on the ground. It was then that he realized he had still been holding onto Deku's dead body as he ran. Although it was more logical to drop it and run, several images of Deku flashed through his head.
Deku laughing, Deku playing with him when they were kids, Deku dead in the closet covered in bile and blood.
Deku ranting about heroes, Deku crying over a dead butterfly, Deku bleeding out on the pavement.
Deku cowering away from him, Deku nervously stuttering, Deku staring longingly as his blood washed down the sink.
He swung the nerd around into a piggy back carry and sprinted away. He found himself drawn to the forest that they used to sneak into as kids and pretend that they were heroes searching for a villain base. As he passed the broken fence, more tears built up in his eyes.
Was this what it was like for Deku?
That thought only brought the pressure building in his chest back. The adrenaline wore off as he found himself slowing down to a walk at the small river that was bridged by a thick log. Everything was so much smaller than he remembered it being, though the fall was still high enough to be dangerous. As he shuffled over to the tree, he tripped and fell face first down the small hill towards the creek.
His eyes widened when he remembered that he had a passenger, quickly tightening his grip on Deku to prevent him from sliding away. Instead of his back hitting the ground, he did his best to angle his stomach toward the ground most often. They rolled down toward the banks and with a loud splash, they slipped into the shallow water.
Bakugou remained face-down in the water with closed eyes and the empty feeling catching up with him. Deku's body seemed to weigh him down, and although he knew that he could easily get back up, he felt as though he shouldn't.
The warm tears that escaped his eyes swirled, and were swept away by the slow cold current. His lungs began to burn, but all he could think was that they deserved to burn. Burn like how Deku burned. Burn by his own actions and choices.
Everything grew dim, but his body's natural instinct forced him to heave himself out of the water and gasp for air. In sitting up, Deku had slid off of his back and into the water. Bakugou flinched in panic and frantically pulled him back to the bank.
He propped his classmate up by leaning him on his shoulder. As it grew colder, he huddled closer to the warmth that was only barely lingering. All he could do was sit and huddle with one of the few constants in his life as the warmth slowly escaped them. He was just waiting for the day to begin again. Waiting for another chance to do better. A chance that he didn't deserve, but a chance he didn't know what he'd do without nonetheless.
His thoughts slowly crawled to a stop as the evening crawled into night, the moon shining brightly. As Bakugou looked up at the sky longingly, clouds shrouded the bright stars and crescent moon. The darkness felt like it was collapsing in on him, but all he could do was accept it.
Then, suddenly, he couldn't move.
The world froze, and the dreaded silence returned. But this silence was one that couldn't begin to compare to his previous experiences. It felt like his ears were being ripped apart with how much sound he wasn't hearing. All of his muscles felt like they were being ripped apart but he was unable to do anything except sit there and feel a deep-set lethargy begin to wash over him. It seemed to drag on for hours, and he wondered if he was losing his mind amidst the pain. Then he heard it.
...
"C̸͗̿͒ͫ͊̔͑ͭͯͬ̈́ͩ́̚͏̢҉̼͖̖̹̰͙̜̥̠͓̝̤̰̫̯͙o̳͙͉̞͉̪̘ͦ̇͑ͤ̿̎́̀̚͡ͅm̨̡̛͈̫̟̭̜̯͕͖̱͍̫̩̦͕̳̓ͥͧ̈́ͮͧ̐ͬ̽͗͑̈̓̿́͞p̛̫̲̦̖̝̝̯̘̝̔͆̔̏̿̽ͧͥͣ͊̑ͩ͒ͥ̎̚͞o̷̶͙͕̹̗̲͓ͩ̇̊̉ͩͫ͌̅̋͆̀̔͊̓̂̆ͤ̚ư̛͎̠̼͚͚̰̥̫̲̝̪̗̱̦̫͕͉̟ͩ̓̄̂͂ͤ̉ͧͫ̎̀̚̕ň̸̨̢̮̠̗̘̍ͫ̈ͥ͌̓̀̈́̕d̸̛̰͙̹̥̤̟͖̣̥͍̪̫̦͓͈ͬ͌͌̓̒̂̎̉̊̎͐̈̃̕͝ ̴̨̢̛̹̝̟̹̔̌ͨ̔͊̑ͯ̎̾ͅẻ̆̾̂ͧ̌̇͂̓ͤ̊ͨ̋́̿ͬ̽ͦ̚͏̢̢̳̣͕͟͡ͅm̴̛̮̟͎̗̼̣̱̙̙͓̬̗̫͉͒̾͆ͭ̈́͐̈͋̋͐̓͊ͥ̆ͣͫ̎̆̍͠ͅͅo̶͖̝̰͈̦͚̻̺̠̎ͮͯ̾̀̚t̴̋ͧ̑͗͡͞҉̤̱̜̳͓͔̦̳̘̥̲̟̀i̷͙̪͚̯̘̫̹̻̮͔͓͔̣͕͈̩̒ͮ̽̉ͮ̎ͩͨ̉̂͛ͥ̓̑̍͛͗́̚o̬̟͙̫͕̺̙̻̲̓͊̆̈́ͧ̐̍̏̇ͨ̈́̾ͤ͘n̢̛̘̹͔̣̰̤͕̫ͥ̋ͬͫ̈ͯͯ̂̚̕͜s̴̢ͫ̍̄̒̂̌̎̊͆̈́ͬ͢҉̗̰̦͇͠.̡̩̲͕̩̼̲̱̠ͪ̽̂ͯ͛͑ͧͬ̿͗̿͑̓͒͢͞͡͞ ̨̡̯͖͉̙̹̆ͪ̈́͂̿͌̆ͮ͑ͤ̊ͭ͌͂͌̽̚͟ͅP̸̛͔̭͍͙̗̭̘̠̩̠̗̙͉ͥ͆̓̅̒ͣ̄̈́̂͑̒͊l̷͒̅̈ͣ̆͒̅̎͑ͧ͊̾̒̍̑ͨ҉̸̧̜̪̗̦̻̳̰͝ư̛̭̩̰̯̥̠̠͉͎̣̤̹̰͔̼̺͂͆̋͛ͣ̓̊ͩͭ͑́̚͟͜s̵͖̤̣͚̩̟͇̣̮͕̯̱̺̩̿̑̊̾͑̎͂ͣͥ̄͂̋̍ͬ̎͛̀̕͢͞ ̡̀̓ͦ͂͋ͮ҉̧̹̫͚̯̩̘͎̭̯c̡̲̻͚͕̤̖̻̫͇̟̝̦͎̱̜̓̍͋ͣͤ̅̂̒̔͛͠hͨ̆̋͛̽͞͏̶̧̼͙͙͖a̛͓̤̬̞̺͈̦͇̣̯̮̗̗̦͚͊̾͛̍̚̚ǫ̢̥̹̠̬̳̦̖̭̬̯̼̗̬̰̣̖̘͔͍ͭͪ̋̐ͬ̋ͪ͛̊̽̓͊̃͢͢s̛ͫ͗̈ͧͫ͊ͯͧ̔͂̑̑̋ͬ͌̒͂̃ͣ͘҉̩̟̣͔͉̙̞̺̬̘̞̭̝̝̪.̸̢͛ͪ͒̆̂҉̥̖̺̟̟̦̖̳̮̜͍̝͞"
...
Everything lurched backwards. Every single atom in his body felt like it was being slammed against solid concrete repeatedly without reprieve, simultaneously feeling like it was being put through a shredder, as though every chemical bond was being slowly stretched apart instead of quickly yanked.
As quickly as it had begun, it lurched backwards and halted.
He closed his eyes for just a moment and then reopened them.
He was back in his bed, the world waiting for him to fail at saving Midoriya once more.