Bakugo Katsuki was never one for walking home with people. The lone wolf persona he had maintained since childhood suited him just fine. But on this particular evening, something was gnawing at him. Something about Deku-Izuku Midoriya-had been off lately, even more than usual. The way he moved, quieter, slower. The way his green eyes had started to dull, once burning with an insatiable flame of hope and determination. It irritated Bakugo more than he wanted to admit.
He found himself walking the same route as Deku, but far enough behind not to seem like he was following him. Not that he'd ever admit that he was following him. Katsuki was just... coincidentally heading home in the same direction. Right.
He stopped at the familiar, modest apartment building where Deku lived. It was strange; Izuku's lights were already on, but the place was quiet, unusually so. No sound of him shuffling through notes or talking to his mom on the phone like Bakugo sometimes overheard when they trained late at night.
A pang of unease settled in his stomach. His feet moved before his mind could catch up, and suddenly, Bakugo was outside Deku's door, fist raised to knock.
What the hell am I doing? He paused. Was this his problem? No. If Deku wanted to wallow in whatever self-pity he was drowning in, that was his issue. He had no right to intervene. Still, he couldn't bring himself to walk away.
His knuckles rapped against the wood, sharp and impatient. No answer.
Again.
Still nothing.
Bakugo felt a knot tighten in his chest. He twisted the doorknob, fully expecting it to be locked. But it wasn't. The door swung open silently, and he stepped inside, unannounced.
"Oi, Deku! You here?"
His voice echoed through the apartment. Nothing.
He took a few steps down the hall, toward Deku's bedroom. The light was spilling out from beneath the door. He could hear faint, irregular sounds-like someone gasping for breath.
Without thinking, Bakugo pushed the door open.
What he saw made his heart stop.
Deku sat on the floor, his back pressed against the edge of his bed, knees pulled to his chest. His arms were wrapped around them, but they were slick with something dark, something red. Blood. A small razor blade lay discarded on the floor beside him.
For a moment, Bakugo couldn't move. His eyes locked on the crimson stains that ran down Deku's arms, dripping slowly onto the floor. His breath caught in his throat.
"Deku... what the hell..."
Izuku looked up, his eyes wide with panic, like a deer caught in headlights. His lips quivered, and his breathing was uneven, shallow. There was no defiance, no strength in his gaze-just raw vulnerability.
"Kacchan," Deku whispered, his voice small, broken. He quickly tried to hide his arms, as though ashamed of what he'd done, of what Bakugo had caught him doing. His entire body trembled, like he was barely holding himself together.
Bakugo's brain was racing. He had seen a lot of things in his life-gruesome battles, injuries, and the aftermath of villains' attacks. But nothing prepared him for this. Seeing Deku like this... it twisted something deep inside him.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Bakugo's voice came out harsher than he intended, full of anger, but not at Deku-at himself for not seeing this sooner. At everything that had brought them to this moment.
"I'm sorry," Deku muttered, pulling his arms tighter to his chest, as though he could hide from the weight of Bakugo's gaze. "I... I didn't... I couldn't stop."
Bakugo's fists clenched at his sides. He wanted to shout, to yell at Deku for being so damn reckless. But as he watched Deku, hunched over and broken, his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, all of Bakugo's anger evaporated, replaced by something foreign-something closer to fear.
He crouched down in front of Deku, not quite sure what to do, but knowing he couldn't just stand there.
"Why?" Bakugo asked, voice quieter now, as if the words were fragile. He didn't know what else to say. For the first time in years, he felt... helpless.
Deku's eyes filled with tears, and he looked away, unable to meet Bakugo's gaze. His voice was barely audible when he spoke. "I just... it's too much sometimes. The expectations. The pressure. It feels like I'm drowning, and no matter what I do, I can't be the hero everyone needs me to be. I... I don't know how to handle it anymore, Kacchan."
Bakugo sat back on his heels, swallowing the knot in his throat. The words hit him harder than any villain's punch ever could. This was Deku-the kid who always smiled through everything, who never gave up, who fought to become the greatest hero. And yet here he was, breaking in front of him.
Bakugo grabbed Deku's wrist, not harshly, but firmly, and lifted his arm to inspect the damage. The cuts were fresh, but not too deep. It could have been worse. Bakugo let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
"Damn it, Deku," he muttered. "You're an idiot. A stupid, reckless idiot."
Deku flinched at the words, but Bakugo wasn't done. He pulled Deku up from the floor, his grip still tight on his wrist, and shoved him toward the bathroom.
"Sit down," Bakugo ordered, pointing to the closed toilet lid. Deku hesitated, but obeyed. Bakugo rifled through the cabinets, finding antiseptic and bandages. He wasn't good at this-this... caring thing-but hell if he was going to just stand by and let Deku fall apart.
As he cleaned and bandaged Deku's arms, the silence between them was heavy, but not uncomfortable. Bakugo worked with a precision that came from years of training, though his hands trembled slightly as he wrapped the gauze around the cuts.
"I'm not good at this crap," Bakugo said after a while, breaking the silence. "But you don't get to do this. You don't get to just... give up." He tightened the bandage more than he needed to, causing Deku to wince. "You hear me, Deku?"
Izuku nodded weakly. "I... I know. I'm sorry."
Bakugo huffed, frustration and worry mixing in his chest. "You don't have to do everything alone, you damn nerd. You've got people who give a crap about you. So stop pretending like you don't."
Deku looked up at him, his eyes shining with unshed tears, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Bakugo saw something other than despair in those green eyes. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was just a spark. But it was enough.
Bakugo stood up, stuffing the leftover bandages back into the cabinet with more force than necessary.
"Next time you feel like this, you come find me. I don't care how late it is or how annoying you think it'll be. Got it?"
Deku blinked, surprised by the offer, then nodded. "Yeah. I... got it, Kacchan."
Bakugo turned to leave, but paused in the doorway. His shoulders tensed, and for a moment, he wasn't sure if he should say what was on his mind. But this was Deku-his rival, his childhood friend, his... responsibility, whether he liked it or not.
"You're not alone, Deku. Not ever. So stop acting like you are."
And with that, Bakugo left the room, leaving Deku in the silence that now felt a little less heavy.
