Together they burn.
Bakugou grappled all night with what to do - with a ridiculous glimmer of hope he has that Kirishima's right, that Uraraka just has a hard time letting go and knowing how to do things for her.
He's...dare he say it? Nervous?
Nah, fuck that, he's scared as shit, and he's too damn proud to say or show it. The clocks ticking. He can sense it in the moments where his room's too quiet. He feels the creeping, crawling sensations of the flowers taking root, feeding off of him, growing.
It's part of why he woke up early to start making the damn cake.
Distraction.
Now, he's about to put himself on the line, and the more he thinks about it, the more he wants to toss the whole idea and do something stupid. Because what's the point of holding back if he knows he's dying anyway.
Except he has a reason. Is it a good one? Probably not.
It feels too ridiculous to say, but: feelings. His fucking feelings are the reason because Uraraka was right when she guessed his thoughts. If she doesn't feel anything for him now, it's meaningless to let her know.
The shit she felt for Deku was so obvious.
And he's nothing like Deku.
Maybe he's naive, or too inexperienced, but is it too much to ask to be wanted as he is? Not because of some frilly declarations or over-the-top gestures to make it obvious. Just him, and her, and the fucking gym. Or wherever the fuck doing whatever the fuck.
That's more his speed.
Which is why this feels like the perfect medium.
A perfect, chilled, strawberry shortcake.
It's not too much. And something Bakugou knows, without a doubt, she'll love.
TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP
He wraps on her door.
He hears a muffled, almost nervous, "Who is it?", from the other side.
He rolls his eyes.
"It's me, Cheeks, open up." Fuck, can his heart stop beating so damn fast? Coughing up shit in front of her still isn't ideal.
"Oh! Uh...I haven't changed since yesterday!" She says as if that's an excuse.
"I've smelled you at your worst Cheeks, I don't give a fuck! Open the damn door." And he has because when they practice, they go hard. And before all this mess, they'd go for hours.
His mind jumps to the image of catching her in his arms on a rebound move, loving the fierce look in her eyes when they're always on point, and his legs about give out with a jolt of excitement.
Fuck.
"Uh...j….ju-just….a….mi..." he hears her stutter, practically hiccuping pieces of words. Something's wrong.
That's not good. He breathes deeply, trying to stay upright and keep the incoming pain at bay.
"Cheeks!" He wheezes, "Uraraka….please." He amends in need. Desperate to get in, just in case, leaning his head against the door for support.
He doesn't expect to hear what he does through the steel.
Uraraka's wretching. Though her sounds are smaller and more feminine, that wet, choking gasp of a cough will haunt him for the rest of his life. He'd know it anywhere.
"Uraraka?!" he shouts, pain forgotten with his rush of adrenaline. "Hey! Let me in!" He bangs on the door, jiggling the handle like it'll open on command.
"Nu…hng" he hears before she's hacking once more. "Please!" She finally pants, hollering, almost like a cry.
Shitshitshitshitshit.
Her panic puts him on high alert. Fight or flight active, and he's ready to fight.
He sets the cake down, and rubs his hands together, looking around the hall for the emergency sprinkler system. "I'm coming in!" He shouts, placing his hands on the handle.
He's not Todoroki; sustained heat isn't his thing, but he's practiced keeping his hands primed long enough that he just might get this shit open - without setting anything off.
Superheating his hands like a forge, he concentrates on not popping off his quirk, just breathing through the charge to maintain it. Turning from red hot to bright yellow, the steel begins to sag and drip away.
In a few seconds, the handle and plate are completely gone, leaving the hole with the locking mechanism intact. Sticking a finger in, he slides the latch back and pulls the door open, then rushes in, sliding to a stop beside her, unsure if he should touch her or not.
Uraraka is a shuddering mess beside the waste bin.
"I didn't…" she gulps, voice soft and hoarse, "I didn't realize."
He looks into the bin. Sure enough, fresh blood, buds, and leaves sit spattered on top, with, what looks like older ones beneath that. Everything's small, but it's a lot.
Fuck.
"Sometimes it surges like that. A lot or a little. I think it just depends on what you're feeling. Or how...you feel about...them." He says by way of comfort.
She seems to ignore him, instead, crawling to her nightstand to retrieve some tissue.
While she kneels at her bedside, it finally sinks in for him, and his heart drops like a stone in dread.
This is irreparable.
Somehow, someway she's sick too, and it's too late. Bakugou wants to ask her who, but he knows that would be hypocritical to do.
Pressure gradually begins to build up inside him. Except it's different from his new normal. It's more heavy and full, like the feeling in his throat when he's trying to hold back tears, except all over his chest.
"Cheeks?" He needs to distract himself, but he knows she's scared right now. But fuck if he knows what the hell to say.
He tries anyway.
"Hey, lucky for you, there's still tons of time...I know you'll be alright." He tries to sound reassuring.
Unfortunately, it has the opposite effect.
Uraraka hunches and leans onto her bed, shoulders shaking intensely.
She shakes her head.
"Not if I can help it." she says sadly.
He's taken aback at the defeat in her voice. What the hell does she mean? She won't even try?
"Oi! What the fuck are you talking about? That's ridiculous, just fuckin go! Who wouldn't accept you?!" he barks, feeling his pain return with a vengeance.
Here he is, goading the girl of his dreams into running to the person she apparently loves.
This is who he is now.
"It's not that easy!" She rounds on him, brow furrowed, tears sparkling down the apples of her cheeks. Gods, she's even beautiful when she cries.
"Don't fucking tell me it's not that easy! If anyone knows that, it's me! What's your fucking excuse?" He coughs. "Too fucking scared to just say it to their face, huh? You're a right fucking rainbow in comparison to me, no one would tell you no."
He immediately starts to sputter, the singular cough turning into a cascade of whooping, intense, coughs that he wills to not produce anything.
It doesn't work.
Before he knows it, Bakugou's on his knees, vomiting into the bin too. It's upsetting how routine and, almost, easy it is at this point.
He's an asshole, he thinks as he wipes his mouth. He knows it. A hypocrite to the umpteenth degree spouting off insecurities he knows are his alone. Wasn't she just trying to convince him of his own worthiness and stubbornness a couple days ago?
He knows he's worthy, he just wants to be wanted by her.
As he recovers, he glances over to see her looking like a wounded pup, staring him down with the saddest, most regretful, fucking expression.
And she's searching for something, he knows because he's sitting here doing the same damn thing, trying to figure her out but he wants to know what the hell gives her the right.
"Would you?" she asks, breaking the silence, fresh tears flowing with the question. "...accept me?" she clarifies.
It's like a bass drum thumping in his ears.
"What?"
Her face falls into an expression of absolute anguish, and it kills him inside. With a click of her tongue, she launches into a slew of words he barely hears.
"I know you're running out of time, and we need to focus on helping you confess. I promised you that. And I'm going to help. I am. I will! But, do you think...just for today, you can pretend...that...it's me." The more she speaks, the lower her gaze goes. It's so unlike her, it peeves him off because he's so used to her challenging stare.
"I'm going to die Bakugou. I know it. But I want…" she inhales roughly, trembling. "It's my birthday today...I just want...to pretend everything's going to be okay."
She prostrates herself like it's the worlds biggest fucking apology that she hasn't put words to yet, and weeps onto the floor.
Everything is difficult to process. He's already gone too long thinking it impossible.
He looks around the room, ensuring there are no blurry edges like he sees in his dream.
But there's nothing. It's just them, Bakugou and Uraraka, here in her room.
He's never seen her so vulnerable. It makes him instantly ashamed because this is new for her, but here she is, laying it all out.
Even though she's bawling on the floor of her room, he's amazed at a depth of her strength. It's so easy to recognize because he's disgusted with how readily he wasn't able to make himself do the same.
This doesn't seem real.
He has to be misunderstanding. The thought alone causes him an excruciating amount of pain that he tries not to show. He's sinking.
"Me?" Is all he says, gulping like an idiot to keep from throwing up. What the fuck is he doing?
"I can't…" she hiccups, "I can't help these feelings. I wish I could go back to the first time you held me and it felt like something more. But I was so wrapped up in how I thought things were supposed to go that I didn't see what was really happening. And I know I'm not who you would pick. And this is so, so, selfish of me, and you don't owe me anything…" she says quickly, looking up from her spot on the floor. "But...please?"
It's a confirmation, barely. She can't bring herself to outright say it, either out of guilt or embarrassment, he can't tell, but it's because Uraraka believes it could never be her.
She has no idea how simultaneously confused and amazed he feels in this moment. Though, it's shortlived.
Out of nowhere, he hisses as a shot of searing heat pulses through his body, and the agony he feels intensifies like his quirk could be burning him up inside out. The brightness is everywhere, even behind his eyelids.
"Bakugou?!"
He groans, falling forward, forehead to the ground, he clenches his chest. His entire body is throbbing, and the pain is rooted in his bones. Just like before, he feels Uraraka's touch, attempting to sooth the muscles of his back. This time, it does exactly as she intends and gives him something to focus on.
He tries to relax but the assault on his body is so much.
Then, she's embracing him fully, arms atop his back, head buried in the back of his neck, whispering words he doesn't quite understand. It's like a syringe drawing blood. He feels the heat being tugged away, straight from the point, dead-center at his heart.
Draining and draining.
For such an effect, she sounds so far away.
Until she doesn't.
"I'm so sorry this is happening to you. I know there's nothing I can do right now, but I'll be here to help." He hears her whisper underneath his heavy breathing as the world comes back into focus and the bright hot heat vacates his body.
His eyes go wide.
Heavy breathing. That's him.
It's not strangled or painful.
It's a natural breath.
He inhales as long as he can, testing it out.
It's undeniable. Unmistakable.
The heaviness, the ever-present creeping sensation, the constant ache - it's gone. Completely gone.
"Shit," he exhales slowly and chuckles into the carpet with disbelief.
"You alright?"
"Yeh…" he rises, shivering when her arms slide up his back and over his shoulders as he moves. "Yeh, I feel great." He replies, catching one of her hands before she disconnects.
The way she freezes and stares back and forth from their joined hands to his face gives him pause. Even though his pain is gone, it doesn't stop the genuine emotions she elicits from him.
He understands why his flowers grew.
To make him confront something he already knew was real but was too afraid to face.
All he'd had to do was believe her.
Now he has to make her see.
"Round Face," he takes another deep breath, fucking ecstatic at what it means. "...when I barged in here and saw you were throwing this shit up," he says with a push of the bin, "I thought I was as good as dead."
Her brows furrow over puffy-red eyes, and he has to head her off before she stops listening.
"But I'll be honest. I don't need to fucking pretend." As he says this she tries to pull her hand away, looking more upset by the second. He holds on tight.
"Wait. Hear me out," Bakugou pleads. "I'm not fucking with you. All I know is that, at some point, it just felt...natural - real - to see myself with you, and it started blurring lines and freaking me the hell out. Then the flowers started growing, and I couldn't ignore it anymore. But you loved Deku, and I wasn't about to get in the way over some woowoo doomsday counter. I want you to be happy! I thought he would make you happy, and then I couldn't stand the idea of being a backup! And I tried to save myself the fucking pain!" He says, voice trembling.
"Then shit got worse, and I knew my time was almost up, so I thought I'd try to make it count." He continues quickly, "You're so hard to let go of. You love a good fight, you're strong as hell, and fun, you make me consider things I might not want to, and...just...you. All of you. I…"
Shit, he might have a terribly normal vomit incoming. He doesn't know what the hell he's saying and she's too fucking quiet. Who the fuck is good at this shit?
Fuck this.
Fuck words, he thinks as he pulls her to him in a hold similar to what they do in practice. His grip is tight, and he can literally feel every thump of her heart against his chest as he looks at her lips.
"I"m gonna kiss you," he tells her with a slight incline of his head, asking the question he doesn't actually speak.
"Ok." Is all she responds with before Bakugou plants his mouth on hers.
Just as they touch, Uraraka seizes up in his arms, eyes shut tight like she's actively in pain when he realizes what's happening. He pulls away, and holds her through it, running his fingers through her hair, listening to each drag of her breath like she's starving for air. She burning up too. If he didn't know what was happening, he'd be completely terrified, blaming anyone and everyone, ready to hurt someone for hurting her. But this is on him, or on them both, he guesses.
After a long while, which really must've been an eternity when he experienced the same just moments ago, Uraraka finally stills, panting in easy flowing gasps in the crook of his neck.
One more chapter and an epilogue to go! I was on a deadline when I wrote this. I had to turn it in by like, Dec 23. XD I made life unecessarily hard.