Summary: Bakugo struggles with his emotions, feeling overwhelmed by the pressure of being a hero. When Deku senses something is wrong, he defies Bakugo's demands for solitude, offering comfort when his friend/rival needs it most.
---
The sun had long dipped below the horizon, leaving a quiet darkness to settle over U.A. High School. The usual sounds of laughter and chatter faded away, and the dormitory hallways grew still. Inside one particular room, however, chaos reigned.
Katsuki Bakugo paced back and forth, his fists clenched tight at his sides. A flurry of emotions surged within him, an unrelenting storm of anxiety and frustration. The pressure to be the best, to live up to his own expectations, bore down on him like an iron weight.
“Dammit!” he roared, slamming his fist into the wall, leaving a crack that echoed through the empty room. “Why can’t I just—” His voice trailed off as a wave of despair washed over him. He felt trapped, a caged animal desperately seeking an escape.
Outside his door, Izuku Midoriya paused, sensing something was wrong. He had been studying late, but his instincts told him his friend was in trouble. He hesitated, the worry gnawing at his insides. Bakugo didn’t often let his guard down. The last thing he wanted was to intrude on the explosive hero’s solitude.
“Hey, Kacchan,” he called softly, trying to keep his voice steady. “Are you okay in there?”
A moment of silence followed, and then Bakugo’s furious voice cut through the air, sharp and jagged. “Go away, Deku! I’m fine!”
The sharpness of his tone made Izuku’s heart drop. He knew Bakugo well enough to sense that ‘fine’ was anything but. There was a heaviness in the air, a tension that made Izuku’s instincts scream for him to act.
“I— I can’t just leave you like this,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “If you need to talk, I’m here.”
“Need to talk?” Bakugo’s voice was dripping with sarcasm, but there was an undercurrent of desperation that he couldn’t mask. “What do you think I am, weak? Just—just leave me alone!”
Izuku felt a wave of sadness wash over him, but he refused to back down. He could hear the cracks in Bakugo's bravado, the way his voice faltered. He knew the fire in Bakugo was not just anger; it was pain, fear, and confusion, all swirling together.
“Please, Kacchan,” he insisted, gently pressing against the door. “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”
Silence fell again, and for a brief moment, Izuku thought Bakugo might ignore him. But then he heard it—the sound of a muffled sob, raw and heart-wrenching. It sent a shiver down his spine, the realization that Bakugo was struggling so deeply.
Without thinking, Izuku turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. The sight that met him made his heart ache. Bakugo was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, tears streaming down his face. His usual fierce expression was replaced by one of vulnerability, something Izuku had rarely seen.
“Kacchan…” Izuku whispered, stepping into the room.
“Get out!” Bakugo shouted, but the fire in his voice was gone, replaced by a cracked facade. He turned his head away, ashamed. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
Izuku knelt down, his heart racing as he saw the turmoil in his friend’s eyes. “You don’t have to hide from me,” he said gently. “You’re not weak for feeling this way. It’s okay to let it out.”
Bakugo clenched his jaw, anger flaring for a moment before it crumbled under the weight of his emotions. “I can’t be weak,” he muttered, his voice shaking. “I have to be the best. I can’t let anyone down.”
“Being the best doesn’t mean you have to be perfect,” Izuku replied softly, inching closer. “It’s okay to not have it all together. We all struggle. I do, too.”
The words struck a chord within Bakugo, and he felt the dam inside him break. With a choked sob, he buried his face in his hands, allowing the tears to flow freely. The weight of his emotions crashed over him, and he couldn’t hold back anymore.
Izuku moved closer, wrapping his arms around Bakugo, pulling him into a comforting embrace. “I’m here, Kacchan. You’re not alone,” he murmured, his voice soothing and steady.
Bakugo tensed for a moment, resisting the comfort, but gradually he melted into Izuku’s warmth. The unexpected softness of his friend's embrace broke through his defenses, and he found himself leaning into it, surrendering to the release of everything he had been holding in.
“I don’t want to be weak,” he finally admitted, his voice muffled against Izuku’s shoulder.
“You’re not weak,” Izuku reassured him, holding him tighter. “You’re strong for letting me in. It takes strength to be vulnerable. You don’t always have to carry the weight of the world alone.”
They sat in silence, the room filled with the soft sound of Bakugo’s tears and Izuku’s steady breathing. Slowly, the storm inside Bakugo began to quiet, the raging tempest replaced by a gentle calm.
“I hate feeling like this,” Bakugo whispered, his voice trembling but softer now.
“I know,” Izuku said, pulling back slightly to look Bakugo in the eye. “But I promise, I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.”
Bakugo met his gaze, the anger and frustration slowly giving way to something softer—a spark of gratitude. “Thanks, Deku,” he murmured, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “You’re a damn idiot, you know that?”
“Yeah, I do,” Izuku chuckled softly, relieved to see a hint of his friend’s fiery spirit returning. “But I’m your idiot.”
With a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, Bakugo let out a shaky breath. “Fine. Just don’t tell anyone, alright?”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Izuku promised, and for the first time that night, the tension in the room eased.
As they sat together in the dim light, Bakugo realized that maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to face everything alone. With Deku by his side, he could weather any storm.
And for now, that was enough.
