in which author takes a little detour and todoroki's day somehow gets even worse.
XxX
"Hey," Hanta says, some minutes into silence. "How did you get home from the hospital?" He doesn't really know what he's hoping to hear, beyond praying that it's not I walked or something. He's not even sure he actually wants to know at all, because Shouto kind of doesn't look like he should have been discharged in the first place.
No, scratch that, yes he does. Just like he wants to know what the hell Shouto is doing out of the hospital. "Actually, how did they even discharge you before the suppressant's worn off?"
Shouto stays quiet, but Hanta isn't going to rush him. He turns his head to look out the window while he waits. The old sugi outside is swaying, none too gently, and Hanta finds himself trying to remember if it was windy outside when he came home. He can't recall; he had bigger concerns. Has bigger concerns.
Eventually there's a purposeful inhale from behind him, so Hanta tears his eyes off the hypnotizing movement of the branches – one is reaching towards the window; sometimes, when it storms, it manages to touch the glass – and turns back towards Shouto behind him.
"Bakugou did me a favor and pulled some strings."
Hanta pauses. It makes sense, kind of – both Bakugou and Kirishima are uncomfortably familiar with hospital protocols and bureaucracy, having spent uncomfortably much time there because they're both reckless assholes and Hanta swears sometimes Bakugou straight-up forgets that breaking is a thing bones do. That's the part that makes sense, Bakugou knowing how to get out of the hospital before he should. What makes considerably less sense is Bakugou helping Shouto, instead of Kirishima.
But that's not the main thing Hanta focuses on. The more immediate question is why the fuck would you do that, you asshole, he was there for a reason – but getting angry is not going to help Shouto. Getting angry right now, when Shouto is like this, is going to make everything go to shit. So Hanta clenches his fists against the duvet, takes a measured breath, and tries to forget about the sudden urge to yell at Bakugou.
Despite not even looking at Hanta, though, Shouto must notice anyway, because he tenses up and goes stone still.
(Which isn't surprising. Being able to read moods is just a survival skill for him.)
"You're mad," Shouto whispers, and Hanta could kick himself.
"Not at you," he hurries to say. "Okay? Not at you. Never."
Shouto says nothing to that.
Hanta takes another measured breath and rakes a hand through his hair. "I'm… yeah, I'm not exactly happy, because you really don't look great. You should be under observation and probably getting some fluids."
"I didn't want to be there." There's something tense, insistent, in Shouto's tone, like he's gearing up for an argument. Hanta doesn't want that argument, and he knows for a fact Shouto doesn't want it either, but he also knows that right now Shouto probably feels like so many layers of shit he can't figure out what to do with himself.
The smart thing to do would be to shut up and sit here until Shouto moves or tells him to leave, or at the very least change the subject right fucking now. But Hanta has never claimed to be smart, even if he does have more common sense than most people he knows – though admittedly that bar is practically subterranean when he's friends with people like Kaminari or Bakugou, but still –, so he does neither of those things.
"I get that," he says instead of shutting the fuck up. He can see the metaphorical train of this conversation going off the rails even as he's speaking, because Shouto keeps going more and more tense. And yet Hanta still opens his goddamn mouth. "And I know that it's–"
"Please leave."
Hanta pauses. Just two words, but Shouto's voice is hoarse, strained, and Hanta really wishes he could see Shouto's face right now.
Changing his tone immediately, from barely concealed frustration and anger he recognizes is misplaced to apologetic and softer, Hanta starts, "Shouto, I'm–"
"Leave." And that's both a warning and a plea, laced with so much urgency that Hanta stands up and has to resist the urge to raise his hands as the temperature dips; barely, and it bounces back up right away, but it's just enough that Hanta knows it's Shouto's Quirk at play. Which is either a good or a really, really bad thing. Good in the case that it's the suppressant actually wearing off, and fucking terrible in the case that it's Shouto forcing his Quirk through a suppressant that hasn't left his system yet.
Hanta really hopes it's the first case.
"Okay, hey, I'm going," he says, going for a placating tone. He walks to the door backwards, not taking his eyes off Shouto. "I'm sorry. Just… I'll be here, yeah?"
Just before he closes the door, he hears Shouto make a horrible, choked noise. Then the door closes with a soft click, and Hanta has to resist hitting his head against it. He settles for pressing his forehead to the uneven surface and squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn't start fucking crying.
So much for preventing that breakdown. Or not having things blow up in his face. He still doesn't have all the facts. Goddammit.
Hanta takes a few deep breaths, opens his eyes, turns around, and walks to the kitchen.
Five minutes later he's drunk two glasses of water, moved Shouto's shoes to the closet, and paced around the living room a few times. He still vaguely feels like crying, but that's an undercurrent to the newly arisen irritation itching under his skin.
He doesn't like feeling irritated, but he also doesn't like feeling helpless like this, not knowing how they ended up here. And it's not like he can ask Shouto for answers right now, seeing as Shouto currently doesn't want to see him and most likely is overthinking himself into a panic attack, so Hanta mentally goes through his options.
Kaminari is the one who initially texted him, so there's an option. But Shouto mentioned earlier that the last time Kaminari saw him was probably well before whatever happened at the hospital, so maybe not.
Is he really going to have to call Bakugou?
He's really going to have to call Bakugou.
Yeah, that sounds about right for today. Hanta groans out loud and drags a hand over his face.
The thing about Bakugou is that Hanta doesn't actually dislike him, and he's reasonably sure Bakugou doesn't hate his guts. Hell, he's pretty sure they're friends, though it's sometimes hard to tell with Bakugou. It's just that the dude generally has two modes, which are asshole and asshole but disgustingly in love with his high school sweetheart. Sure, therapy and time and Kirishima have done wonders, but apparently his factory settings just are grumpy and introverted and no social skills whatsoever.
(The last point is why Shouto has never gotten along with him, Hanta thinks. Both Shouto and Bakugou have always relied on other people to take care of the social skills part, so they're both at a complete loss with each other. It's like a set-up to some joke – two socially inept introverts with anger issues walk into a bar.)
So yeah, Hanta is already having a shit day – why not throw having to deal with Bakugou's grumpy ass in the mix.
And of fucking course Bakugou doesn't even answer. The line beeps exactly once before going dead, and Hanta finds himself standing in the middle of his living room, staring at his contact menu, mind blank. He does that for about ten seconds, before the phone in his hand starts ringing, the screen spelling Bakugou and indicating a video call. Hanta feels his face do something weird, like his brows don't know whether to climb up or fall into a deep scowl.
So he greets Bakugou with some kind of a confused half-formed frown, but doesn't have much time to pay attention to his own face, because Bakugou looks like crap.
Not necessarily in the sense of injuries, though he does have fresh stitches on his cheekbone going towards his ear – more in the sense that he looks fucking exhausted, a bone-deep weariness almost scarily evident on his face in a way he rarely allows himself to show. There's a numb kind of dullness in his eyes, and Hanta is pretty sure he should be nowhere near the steering wheel of the car he's apparently sitting in.
Hanta is also pretty sure Bakugou isn't wearing his hearing aids, which explains the video call.
"What do you want." It's barely even a question, that's how flat Bakugou's tone is. He sounds like he's been gargling glass, or more likely that he's been screaming for hours. Hanta tries to extinguish the flickering guilt from ever having wanted to punch Bakugou.
(Today, anyway. Usually Bakugou deserves it.)
But no, actually, Bakugou still pretty much broke Shouto out of the hospital, so Hanta gets to be mad about it. "Answers," he simply says, making sure Bakugou can read his lips.
"Really not in the mood to guess what the fuck you're talking about."
"I'm talking about Shouto being home. What the hell, man?" Hanta doesn't have the patience for this. He's generally a pretty easygoing guy, and he generally gets along with most people, Bakugou included – hell, Monoma included –, but right now? Fuck that.
"He asked for a favor. I did him a favor. End of story."
Uh, no. "Absolutely not end of story, Bakugou," Hanta bites out. Everything about this is just so many layers of wrong he doesn't even know where to start, and the fact that Bakugou seems to be intent on ignoring the whole part where he and Shouto prefer to not interact with each other is driving him insane. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, so how about just making this easier for both of us?"
Something in Bakugou's expression twitches, Hanta isn't sure what, and then he leans closer to his phone. A familiar scowl is forming on his face. "Stop involving me in your fucking relationship drama," Bakugou growls. "He would have gotten out of there anyway, I just made sure it wasn't through a fucking window. And that he got home in one piece, you're welcome. I don't know what the fuck happened on the field," and something strange crosses his features, "but he was a fucking mess at the hospital and I'm about one hundred percent sure he's doing better at home compared to that."
"What do you me–"
"Shut the fuck up." So Hanta does. "I don't give a shit about what you think," which Hanta is very well aware of, thank you, "and I don't give a shit about either of you," which Hanta knows is a lie, but he'll let Bakugou have that because hating the world is one of Bakugou's less terrible coping mechanisms, "but I'm going to give you some fucking relationship advice so maybe this one doesn't crash and burn like it did with whatshername." And that's just unnecessary and Bakugou being an asshole, Hanta thinks. Yeah, his last relationship didn't end pretty. Common knowledge. He slept more than one night on Bakugou and Kirishima's couch after that. Not a time he's particularly proud of.
"Her name was Ayu–"
"I don't care. Here's the fucking trick: communicate." Bakugou leans even closer to say it, enunciates it so clearly there's no missing it, and accompanies the whole thing by spelling the word out with his hand and ending with his middle finger to the camera. Hanta almost wants to roll his eyes.
"Fine, yes, I'll talk to him." How he's going to do that, he's not sure, but he has to admit that Bakugou does have a point. He'll figure it out. They'll figure it out, together with Shouto.
So no answers from Bakugou. Great. That still leaves the issue of Shouto being sick and miserable and terrible at talking. That also leaves Hanta still on a video call with Bakugou, who by the looks of it is having a much worse day than he is. And despite everything, Hanta can't deny that he's worried.
As Kaminari has stated before, multiple times, the only reason Hanta is not the designated Mom Friend of their friend group is that Kirishima Eijirou is a person who exists. And talking of Kirishima? Hanta is pretty sure he has reason to be worried about him too, based on the fact that, again, Bakugou looks like crap.
Let's take care of that, then. Even if there's not much Hanta can do for either of them, seeing as he's absolutely not going to leave Shouto alone in the apartment tonight, he can sic Jirou on it or something.
"And now you're going to tell me why you look half-dead," Hanta tells Bakugou, determined. Bakugou's face does something weird again, like his mask drops for just a second there. He makes a motion like he's going to turn his head, but ends up just averting his eyes from the screen to presumably out the window. Hanta starts mentally drafting a message to Jirou.
"Some of us still have people in the hospital," Bakugou says quietly, something bitter and fragile in his voice, and thank you, universe, for making Hanta feel even more like an asshole. Well, at least that's one puzzle piece finding its place.
"Kirishima or Kaminari?" Hanta asks. There's a part of him that still hopes for neither, but a bigger part knows it's either Kirishima or both.
"Both," comes the answer, like Hanta feared, and he closes his eyes. "I thought he was dead." The admission comes as a whisper, a scared, rushed thing Hanta doesn't think Bakugou meant to be heard. Hanta opens his eyes to find Bakugou leaning back on his seat, eyes squeezed shut.
"Bakugou," Hanta starts, more carefully this time while trying to project his voice so Bakugou can hear him properly. "What the hell's going on? Where are you right now?"
It speaks to the severity of everything that Bakugou just… answers. "The parking lot outside of Denki's apartment building." Hanta swears he'll never get used to Bakugou using Kaminari's first name, even though it's been a couple of years already. The same goes for Kaminari using Bakugou's first name too. Hanta supposes it makes sense, since Bakugou, Kirishima and Kaminari founded their own agency pretty much straight out of UA and have been working closely together ever since, and Kaminari is probably going to be Kirishima's best man when those two finally get married, but that doesn't make it not sound weird.
Then again, with the obvious exception of Kirishima, Bakugou using anyone's actual name will never not be weird.
Bakugou's tone has gone distant, dangerously monotone. Hanta watches as he raises a hand to rub at his ear absently.
"Hey, Bakugou." The sharp note of his voice seems to be enough for Bakugou to snap out of it. "Eyes to the screen, man. What are you doing there? What's going on with Kirishima and Kaminari?"
"Ei's got a tube down his throat breathing for him." Something cold coils around Hanta's lungs. God, no wonder Bakugou is kind of a wreck. "Denki is in a Quirk containment room in the fucking basement." Every goddamn answer Bakugou gives just gives Hanta more questions. Such as what the fuck? Containment rooms are for people whose Quirks are a danger to people around them. "And Eyebags isn't answering his fucking phone. Fuck." Bakugou's hand moves from his ear to press into his eye. Hanta can't be sure, but it's starting to look like he's avoiding using his right arm.
This is ridiculous. And sad. "Bakugou."
"What."
"Next time you call for help." Bakugou opens his mouth, most likely to argue, but Hanta continues. "Call me, call Jirou, call Ashido, call Midoriya, I don't care. Call someone." How exactly did he go from intending to yell at Bakugou to mother-henning him? Well, doesn't matter now, does it. Bakugou ignores him because of course he does.
Bakugou's hand moves to rub at his opposite ear, and Hanta remembers he still has questions. "Did you bust your shoulder again, man?" That would explain why he's only using his left hand; Hanta doesn't hide his grimace at the thought. Literally everyone, Bakugou himself included, has probably lost count of how many times he's managed to dislocate or otherwise fuck up his right shoulder, dating back to high school. Last Hanta heard, there was talk of surgery.
After a few moments of silence, he gives up on that question. "Fine, be like that. Will you at least tell me why Kaminari is in a goddamn containment room?"
Seems that some things Bakugou is actually willing to explain, even if he does so in a tone that implies he would rather be doing anything else than talking about this, or talking at all. Which Hanta can understand, because, and he will keep repeating it, Bakugou looks like crap. Sounds like it too. The longer Hanta watches him, the more in pain he looks.
The abridged version that Bakugou provides him with is that Kaminari got hit with a Quirk that messed with his Quirk – Hanta is a little unclear on whether the same thing was responsible for Shouto ending up in the hospital, but that's probably irrelevant as far as this conversation is concerned –, and by "messed with" he means complete loss of control. That led, among other things, to Kaminari accidentally zapping Bakugou and in the process completely frying his hearing aids while he was wearing them (hey, an answer to something!).
"But wouldn't a Quirk suppressant take care of that? That's what they did with Shouto, right?"
There's something awful about the hollow laugh that escapes Bakugou's lips. It sounds about two steps from hysterical. "No one can get close enough to stick him with a fucking needle."
Hanta's own problems are starting to seem kind of small; all he has to do is help Shouto through tonight. Sure it's not going to be fun, it's going to be awful and miserable and heartbreaking, but he can't help but be glad that Shouto is at least walking and talking. Looking at Bakugou, he feels vaguely guilty about that thought.
He's in the process of figuring out what the hell to say to Bakugou, how the hell to help him, when something brushes against his calf, and suddenly he has other things to worry about. Soba stares up at him with big mismatched eyes like she's demanding he surrender his succulents for her to snack on.
That means Shouto is up.
"Bakugou," he hears himself say, thoughts already escaping elsewhere. "I need to– I need to go. Right now." How did he not hear the bedroom door open? "Just hang in–"
"Sero." Hanta makes an inquisitive noise somewhere in his throat; it has about as much to do with being interrupted as it does with Bakugou very uncharacteristically using his actual name. "Just go." Then Bakugou disconnects the call, leaving Hanta staring at his screen dumbly.
Soba meows at his feet.
And then. And then he hears a stumble from the hallway, a halting step and something that sounds ominously like a thump against the wall, and Hanta turns around to see Shouto step out of the hallway, unsteady and white as a ghost. His scar and the bruise next to it stand out against his face like ink on paper. Even worse is the halfway panicked, frantic look in his red-rimmed eyes, and even worse than that is the way Hanta can see him struggle to keep his breathing in something that resembles a rhythm.
"Hey," Hanta breathes, relief and concern trying to overcome each other in his voice. Shouto's eyes dart around the room before landing on Hanta; there's something painfully helpless in them. "Baby, hey," Hanta repeats, and manages to force his legs to move.
"Hi," Shouto croaks breathlessly. There's a tremor in his hands, Hanta notes, and his voice, shaky as it is, is overlaid with the high pitch of barely suppressed panic. "I'm– I'm sorry–"
"Shh, it's okay." Hanta's hands move without his permission, rising up to nearly touch Shouto's face before he stops himself just short of contact and abruptly jerks them back. It's instinctual, the yearning for physical contact – the need to use touch to make things better, to see for himself.
While that's instinctual for Hanta, though, what's instinctual for Shouto is Absolutely Not That, so Hanta pulls his hands back at the last second and lets them just awkwardly hover instead. Shouto looks at them with something unreadable in his eyes, under the panic there.
"Hey," Hanta says again, quieter this time. "What's wrong?"
Shouto opens and closes his mouth soundlessly a couple of times. Hanta observes with uneasy anticipation slowly tightening its grip on his throat as Shouto wraps his arms around himself tight and shudders.
"I'm, um," he finally manages to start. "I'm pretty sure I'm having a panic attack?" he then says, not sounding one bit like he's pretty sure about anything.
But Hanta has no reason to doubt Shouto's almost-question, so he nods. "Okay." Swallows. "Okay, I'm right here."
He's focused on Shouto's face, so the touch comes as a surprise; something bumps against his hand, still awkwardly hovering between them, and Hanta looks down to find Shouto's hand fumbling for his to hold.
Hanta takes his hand and squeezes.