WARNING: there is a lot of vomiting and dry heaving in this chapter, mostly due to an anxiety attack and trauma. Also graphic depictions of injury etc from a car accident.
Bakugou worked at the main campus coffee shop. Was it kind of lame? Yes. Did it mean he had to be at least a little social? Also yes. But did it provide him with an endless supply of caffeine that he used to make up for the small amount of calories he permitted himself? Hell yeah. Unfortunately, between an off-semester graduation, a couple drop outs, and a general lack of willingness in the employees to work, they'd hired several new employees for the semester, and he was not looking forward to meeting them. At least he'd met Jiro last night and that had gone pretty well. She was sort of edgy-looking, with purple asymmetrical bangs and earbuds she refused to take out, but she was also quiet and mostly left him alone in a silence that quickly moved past kind of awkward to oddly comfortable. He also couldn't deny that he was a little [oh my god, Katsuki, is that eyeliner? What the hell is wrong with you?] edgy looking too at times, and her general vibe made him feel a little less like a weirdo. He'd never admit that, though, and he had low expectations for any other new hires.
Even his low expectations were too high, however, which he discovered when he turned around just in time to look right into the face behind a delighted cry of "Kacchan!"
Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh god. Oh damn. He was running out of curses. He never ran out of curses, but he was drawing a total blank in that moment. Why was the universe like this? Had he pissed off some sort of god he didn't even believe in? What had he done to deserve this?
"You guys know each other or something?" Jiro asked hesitantly, looking at Bakugou's darkened expression.
"No," he said, at the exact same time that Deku said "yes!" very enthusiastically. Jiro raised an eyebrow and then shrugged, turning back to wipe down the counter. Deku wasn't phased in the slightest.
"I was really nervous to start here, but I'm glad to see a familiar face!" he said cheerily. He seemed less daunted by Bakugou's roughness than he used to be. That wasn't good. Bakugou trained his eyes firmly on Deku's stupid broccoli head and refused to look any lower into his eyes or, god forbid, at his arms-
Don't think about that, don't think about that. "Yeah, whatever," he snapped back. "I'm busy, ask Jiro for help."
"I started yesterday!" she protested, somehow hearing him over her music. Bakugou must have looked really desperate, however, because Jiro caved. "Fine, I'll teach you whatever I've already learned. Come here and I'll show you how to make the mocha, that's the most common one I've seen yet. I'm Jiro, nice to meet you."
"Midoriya, or you can call me Izuku!" Still seemingly unfazed, Deku bounced excitedly over to Jiro as she nodded to acknowledge his introduction and then began pointing out the different ingredients and discussing the amounts required.
Bakugou just watched, trying not to panic. He had seen him around campus here and there, had a few stilted conversations but mostly fled as soon as he could. He wasn't the asshole he used to be, or at least not as much, but he still didn't want to see Deku. Trying to drive him away had turned into a more avoidant tactic when he realized the cruelty wasn't working and just made him feel like a piece of shit. The kid was too stubborn for his own good, and so Bakugou just had to run. But he couldn't now, could he? This job was the best he'd had in a while. The hours were great, management was flexible and understanding, it was in the campus center so he didn't have to drive extra, the pay was decent, and he was comfortable with tasks it required. He didn't want to find a new job. Maybe this was a sign, maybe he needed to learn how to stop emotionally reacting to Deku. Maybe if he was apathetic but not cruel, Deku would understand. Maybe this was something that he needed to work past to recover fully. Maybe, maybe, maybe. All he knew was that for the time being, he'd be seeing Deku several times a week whether he liked it or not. And he couldn't break down because of it.
