A/N: Continuation of campmob's Grape Milkshake on AO3 (so I'd suggest reading that first!)
He's been sitting in the same spot on the ground f or a while now.
It's been about 15 minutes. Or maybe an hour. Who knew?
The sun had just begun to fall behind the school roof by the time Mineta figures he should probably get up from his place in the dirt. His uniform, now streaked with soil and dust from being scattered on the ground, was still balled in a loose pile in his arms. He had managed to at least pull on his underwear a while ago but hadn't quite found the energy to get fully dressed yet. As he moves, his body protests, the searing ache that had washed over his torso and legs screaming at him to stay put. He considers it. Maybe he should just say "fuck it" and lay there until he shrivels away. Maybe someone else will come by, see the mess that is his body and toss it into the incinerators with the rest of the trash.
But instead, he slowly pulls his uniform back on as best as can manage (which wasn't very much but he couldn't care less at this point) and starts to make his way back to the dorms.
The trudge back to his dormitory is largely uneventful, thankfully. The short teen's arms swing inertly at his sides as he keeps his gaze steadily on his slow stride. At first, he sticks closely to the walls, silently wishing he had Hagakure's quirk to ensure no one sees him. But then he remembers that classes had long been over so there weren't as many people out on school grounds, just a few stragglers and club members here and there.
Luckily, no one really pays him any mind. Maybe it's a 'perk' of being one of the least popular students in class 1-A, he thinks bitterly. Nevertheless, he figures he should be a little grateful for that. His face was still covered in dirt and spit and dried cum. Some is still leaking out of him so he makes a stop at one of the public restrooms to clean himself off in one of the stalls. He doesn't stay long as he didn't want to earn any weird looks or whispers about the sorry state he was in right now. He just wants to get to his room without any hassle.
The sun is setting when Mineta walks through the dorm's entrance. Despite his slow pace walking here, he gets a sudden urge to get to his room ASAP. The odds of running into someone are obviously a lot higher here. He does a quick scan of the common room. Surprisingly, no one's downstairs, but he doesn't think much of it as he moves across the lobby. He does a half-jog-half-shuffle towards the elevators. There's a sharp twinge at the base of his spine due to quicker movements, but he just digs his nails into his palms and ignores it as best he can. Despite his jabbing at the call button, the elevator door seems to take an excruciating amount of time before it finally opens, as if to mock him.
No one is here. Great. The grape-haired student flings himself into the lift and presses his floor. A puff of air escapes him as he slumps against the wall. He's so close now — he made it across campus without a hitch. Only a couple more steps until he makes it to his room and can start forgetting this day ever happened. He's made it this far without drawing anyone's attention. What are a few more steps?
When the doors ping open, he makes a dash toward his room. Mineta hardly looks up. He knows his door is the fourth door on the left, so he doesn't notice the body directly in front of him until he lands ass-first on the hallway floor. The pain he feels makes him hiss.
"Ah!" Midoriya already has a scarred-covered arm extended to help the smaller teen up. "Sorry! Are you alright Mineta-san?" It takes a second or two for Mineta to gather his bearings but flinches at the strong hand reaching toward him. He stares at it for a moment longer before realizing the awkwardness starting to set in.
"Y-yeah…" he says, though he curses himself internally. Leave it to him to literally run into someone less than three feet away from sweet refuge. And into his overly analytical neighbor no less. Still, he wants to appear as normal as possible and offers a forced half-smile as he takes his classmate's hand.
"Thanks." Mineta says, even though technically, he's the one who bumped into Deku. He's back on his feet but Midoriya still has a light grip around his hand. The extended physical contact starts to make his skin itch a little.
But he needs to play it cool. He tries to tug away from his grasp. "I'm good. So…um…your hand…". He looks up and sees that the freckled teen is staring at him with a scrutinizing look that Mineta usually only sees during class or in combat. It usually means he's picked up on something and is analyzing some sort of unseen piece of data, though right now there seems to be a hint of something else added in as well.
"Sorry!" He apologizes again and releases the smaller boy's hand but doesn't move out of the way. "It's just that, um, did something happen?" A look of concern crossed over the taller teen's face but Mineta's body still pauses at the question. He tries to keep calm, but his brain can't help but bring up an unfortunate possibility.
Does Deku know?
It's unlikely. He couldn't have. No way.
Not unless Bakugou was in the habit of blabbing about his exploits to his classmates moments after they happened. Actually, knowing him, it wouldn't be all that surprising. But it still wouldn't make sense to tell Midoriya of all people, considering the weird relationship they had. Plus, that would completely negate the purpose of those photos as collateral. Of course, that could just mean he might have heard something through someone else. Maybe someone had seen them? He isn't sure why, but for some reason, the thought of Deku finding out — the thought of anyone finding out — filled the grape-haired boy with dread.
His mind is racing, coming up with so many scenarios so quickly that it's hard to keep up and rationalize them all away. He almost doesn't hear Midoriya speak again. "You look a little, um, rough. Your uniform…"
Mineta doesn't need to look down at himself to know that his untucked shirt is covered in patches of dirt or how his pants were uncharacteristically wrinkled (let alone the scratches on his face) but he does so anyway to avoid Midoriya's gaze. "Oh, this?" It's nothin." He makes a show of dusting himself off and fakes a laugh. "Just had some trouble taking the trash out to the furnace. Real pain in the ass." His stomach does an ugly twist as he berates himself for his poor word choice.
"Ah, that's right-." Midoriya's face relaxes, but only slightly. "You're on trash duty this today. I see. If that's the case then case, you could have always asked for help. It can't be easy lugging around all that trash. You should visit the nurse if you have any injuries."
"Yeah, it isn't. Especially with my build. But I'm fine." Mineta snorts. He plays it off like a joke, but it's true. It's obvious that he's no Satou or Kirishima, but he's suddenly painfully aware of how pitifully frail his body is compared to the rest of his classmates. For all their training, he hadn't put on the bulk of muscle like his peers. He couldn't even manage to throw away a couple of bags of garbage without struggling.
How pathetic. If only he was stronger, or even a little taller, maybe he could have stopped —
"That's not true!" Midoriya interrupts the stream of negative thoughts worming their way into Mineta's head. "I'm sure it's tough for anyone without a strength quirk. Besides, I think I saw Kaccha-, er, Bakugou heading in the direction of the incinerators. I'm sure he would have lent a hand if you asked. Did you happen to see him?"
Mineta's stomach does another nasty lurch at the mention of Bakugou. He swallows back down the bile at the back of his throat and digs his hands into his pockets to hopefully hide how white how his knuckles are from clenching his fists. At least it seems Deku doesn't seem to know anything, which should be a good thing, but he's starting to feel sick and it takes what little willpower he has left to keep from throwing up right there in the hallway. He just needs to get to his room.
"Um, I'm not sure. Wasn't really paying attention…" he mutters, looking away. "Look, Deku, trash duty took a lot more outta me than I thought so I'm gonna clock out for the day."
"Oh! Sorry, sorry." Midoriya apologizes while side-stepping out of the way so the Mineta can pass. "Didn't mean to keep you. I'm heading downstairs to study with Iida and Uraraka. If you're up to it, you're welcome to join if you're us later."
Mineta's hand is already on the handle of his door, but he hesitates. It's a tempting offer at first, if he was being honest, to be around friends and pretend everything was totally normal. But then he remembers why he wanted to avoid running into anyone in the first place.
He'd probably get too comfortable. He already felt like he was under a microscope with Deku and with the addition of the dutiful class rep and 1-A' sweetheart — listen he isn't known for being the most discrete (given the number of times he's been slapped or beaten for leering at girl's rack or making a crude comment). But with all three of them there, chatting and laughing and goofing off… the wrongness of what happened prior would just be more and more apparent in his head. He wouldn't last. The risk of breaking down, letting everything spill out, the absolute hell it would raise if any of that got back to a teacher or even worse, Katsuki — he could probably kiss his hero and student career goodbye.
And that's only if they believed him. Like c'mon, a person like him claimed to have been assaulted by a guy like Bakugou? If he hadn't lived through it himself, even he would think that it'd be too ridiculous to be true. So would anyone else with a pair of working eyes and ears.
Plus, there's always the chance of running into the blonde himself.
"I'm gonna have to take a raincheck on that, Deku" Mineta replies with a weak smirk. "I'm super tired so I'll probably just crash till tomorrow. Another time." The freckled teen just offers him a nod and quick "Night!" before walking back toward the elevators.
Mineta finally enters his room, closing the door behind him. He goes to sit in front of his PC but not before tearing off his sullied uniform to toss it in the hamper with the rest of the dirty laundry and tugging on a fresh t-shirt. It's an instinctive action whenever he has a shitty day and wants to blow off steam by playing MMOs or watching smut. And while today definitely counts as such, he's not in the mood for video games and even less so for porn (which is both rare but not all that surprising given the circumstances).
The last rays of sunlight peek through the blinds so his room is rather dim. He doesn't bother with flicking on the lights or turning on his computer. Thinking about it now, he could do with a shower but he'll wait until after curfew when everyone else goes to bed. He just kind of sits there in silence, legs danglingly uselessly as he rests his head on his desk.
He groans. Despite just wanting to forget today ever occurred, it doesn't seem right to go through the usual motions. His head and his gut are both still churning, still working through the events of today and what he should actually do about it. He had already decided that going to Aizawa was off the table. Admittedly, despite who was involved, sensei would probably be the most likely to believe him — or at the very least, look into it. But odds are, school policy would probably have him alert the principal and possibly make an official report to the police. And that probably meant an investigation which also probably meant telling the details over and over and over again to a bunch of adults who would probably have to interview his classmates to verify his story.
He couldn't ensure that everything would be kept under wraps. Scandals or gossip at UA tends to travel quickly, especially if they were about anybody in 1-A or even 1-B. It'd only be a short time before the whole school knew what was up. Ugh, not to mention his family finding out.
So, yeah. No telling Aizawa. Or any other adult for that matter. He should figure this all out himself.
But where does that leave him exactly? Not many other options come to mind and Mineta isn't able to come up with a definite answer before the exhaustion finally takes over and he passes out at his desk.
Maybe it's best to just chalk it up to a bad dream.