Bakudeku/Dekubaku Oneshots

Inverted

The walk to the Midoriya household wasn’t far. On foot, you could say it was approximately a good fifteen minutes, much to Bakugou’s fortune. His steps were hardly detectable even in a somewhat desolate street. For the moment, said footsteps were all the noirette attempted to detect during his walk to a mutual’s house. It was an occupant. A distraction in order to avoid what outcomes Bakugou could conjure in his head when he arrived.

His arms were tightly wrapped around the lower portion of his torso, jutted hips receiving a firm squeeze as his anxiety bubbled and sparked within. The weight through his shoulders and back had ached. Books were smooshed and compiled against his back, stuffed into his book bag. It was a struggle to get everything to fit, but he thankfully managed. Personally, Bakugou wasn’t the strongest guy out there. Maybe a sliver below average, but his lithe and lanky build made up for it. You could say it was one of the few gifts the universe blessed him with.

Nervously, the blackette gnawed at his lower lip, his top tier of teeth gnawing at the abused skin. Sometimes he couldn’t find the courage to face the male he had chosen to visit currently. The gusts and flow of the wind and cruised through hue spiky strands, few strays dancing in the breeze. To Bakugou, this type of weather put him at ease.

Bakugou’s steps had fallen lax as he reached the bottom step of the Midoriya’s porch. For a moment, he stood there, and contemplated his decision. He stared at the cream colored door, slim fingers wound tightly around the straps of his backpack.

Something had made up his mind: the awkward silence he brought upon himself. Just... gawking like a stalker, that would surely spark suspicion to any few by passers or neighbors. As he took in a sharp breath, Bakugou took his first step forward. Up he went, the step beneath his groaning from the applied weight. Another step, then another.

He found himself a foot away from the same cream colored door he gawked at.

Slowly, the right hand that gripped tightly at his backpack strap, had left its position. It hovered over the brass doorknob, hesitant to turn the knob. The cold heat between the knob and his palm had built.

Clammy. His palms were clammy.

The lump in his throat had quickly been swallowed. He must face his anxiety, and just walk in. No, he didn’t half to knock, because recently the Midoriya’s had required a security system that only relatives and close friends had known. The Bakugou’s were one of them.

As the knob had been twisted, and the door had been pushed open, he was greeted with... stale atmosphere. With his entrance, an alarm had been activated. It caused Bakugou to momentarily panic, but it subsided once he came to dumbly realize he knew the code to shut off the alarm, it’s obnoxious sound assaulting his eardrums.

Punching in the code with the pad of his thumb, he muttered every number inserted into the security system. "44..723... Enter," and abruptly, the alarm had fallen silent.

He sat in intense silence, as if floating in a vacant abyss of nothing.

As he glanced around, he had noticed something. There was no sight of a lavender haired boy. But when he cocked his head to the shoe wrack just at the walk-in entrance of the threshold, he had seen scuffed shoes. Izuku’s shoes. Size six in men’s, Bakugou noted mentally.

His gaze left the wrack of shoes, to the beige carpeted stair steps. Taking a step forward, he peered over to call out. "'Zuku?"

No answer. That was... peculiar. He had heard no movement from the kitchen, or the downstairs bathroom, so perhaps he was upstairs?

Bakugou took this accusation and went with it, footfalls ascending up the carpeted steps, one by one. His palms had grown increasingly hot, courtesy to his anxiety, that would hopefully not activate his quirk. It’s occurred before. His insecurities and issues have caused the exertion of his quirk to activate. It’s harmed someone.. once. His own kindergarten teacher. She had scolded him at the end of class for zoning out. Bakugou didn’t take the firm discipline well. He seemed to have zoned out once more, causing the teacher to grasp at his tiny wrist.