The sky was hazy from the fog of night, but from the streets below it wasn’t hard to see how the skyscraper was set ablaze by the collision of hero verses villain. Midoriya stared anxiously up, a boy of now nearly 18 years old, knowing what was happening above. “Kacchan, you idiot!” he cursed under his breath as he ran into the blazing building. Everyone had already been evacuated but for the explosive boy he was forced to call his rival. Why was he like this!
Bakugou was at the very top of that blaze, he knew, assigned stupidly together on an assignment hoping that they would finally jump the final hurdle of cooperation, yet when Midoriya ran back, Bakugou threw himself forward. They had different goals – one to destroy, one to protect.
He charged up the stairs at unreal speed, ducking under beams ablaze and leaping over collapsing staircases. Everyone was safe from the building’s fire… Except Kacchan. Midoriya’s feet pounded the ground as he ran, sometimes skidding to fast into a turn and slamming against a wall. “Kacchan!” he cried as and explosion overhead threatened the foundation of the building. Again he cried as he got closer, and on the last flight of stairs, as the air was red hot around him, he screamed again “KACCHAN!!!”
The explosions hardly ceased as he climbed, but just as he rounded the last flight of steps they ceased. Fear shook him, knowing that Bakugou was hardly one to leave dead air. The building was ablaze. The villain stood far on the otherside of the room, and between them stood Bakugou, clothes burned to shreads, his headpiece thrown in a distant corner, and the grenade on his right arm had broken open. His shoulders raised visibly as he panted from the exhilaration. “Bastard,” he cussed under his rugged breath, “This time you die!”
“Kacchan!!” He couldn’t do this here and now. He had to stop! But Midoriya’s call fell on deaf ears. Bakugou moved to pull the pin from his remaining grenade as Midoriya ran toward him from behind. The explosion set off, a thunder clap that shook the building and scortched the floor. The villain screamed as the floor began to crack beneath them. For only a second Midoriya hesitated against the blast, but back on his feet he ran toward Bakugou, suffering the center of the blow. Bakugou collapsed from exhaustion into Midoriya’s arms, who caught him just as the floor snapped beneath the two of them. The world rushed past Midoriya’s gaze, but without regret he clung to Bakugou as they fell down each story until the building collapsed.
When they reached the bottom, under the rubble of the floors that were above them, Midoriya coughed against the rubble. It seemed impossible to live through a fall like that, but with full cowl, it seemed almost anything was possible. Against his bosom he held Bakugou and panicked after a moment as he pulled the young man’s face away from his chest. “Kacchan! Kacchan, are you okay?? … Kacchan!” he shook him a few times, eventually stirring Bakugou from his half slumber.
Bakugou squinted for a moment at Midoriya and sneered. “Don’t fucking mumble, waste of… fucking.. bastard.” His head lolled forward, injured, asleep, and breathing. Midoriya’s heart raced anxiously, and he sighed. Standing up, his back brushing off rubble like it were lint, Midoriya stepped through the haze of dust and toward the distant scream of sirens.
“Midoriya-san,” the doctor declared as she approached. “You were dismissed yesterday, did something come up?”
“Ah, hi! No, I was..” Midoriya shifts on one foot, hiding something behind his back as he turns toward the doctor. She had tended to Midoriya over his injuries, which were luckily minor enough after everything that happened. Over his cheek a patch rested, and his shoulder was still bound in some wraps to protect the scabs. “I was hoping to see someone.”
“We don’t really do visiting for-“ but she paused as she saw his eyes turned away from her, gaze hardset on the door marked temporarily with Bakugou’s name and remembered what he hid behind his back. For a moment she paused before sighing, and waved her hand toward the door. “We haven’t spoken to him since he arrived, but we suspect he’s already woken up once. Let us know if he’s woken up.” She seemed tired.
Midoriya snapped to, cheeks flushed as he was caught in the act. “Th…thank you!” She was already leaving. Even with permission, Midoriya fussed and fidgeted as he eyeballed the door to Bakugou’s room, rolling between his fingers a ‘get well soon’ bouquet he had picked out for the boy. Why was this so hard? The years which have passed since Midoriya had obtained his quirk, there was reason enough to believe that he and Bakugou were on different terms, but still, Bakugou’s abrasiveness never seemed to subside. They never became friends again like Midoriya had wished – and it felt weird to realize so late that it was all he ever wanted.
He pulled the flowers in front of him and stared at the card, Get well soon Kacchan, it read, and he asked himself stupidly why he had decided to put the name down… of course Bakugou would know from that alone it was him who wrote it. He didn’t know how to grow out of that old, childhood name. Mustering his courage, he knocked on the door and pushed it open. “Kacchan?” There was no answer, and he slipped into the room.
No surprise, he thought, as he wandered into the room to find Bakugou sleeping quietly in the hospital bed. His patching up was just a little worse than Midoriya’s own, with his head wrapped in bandages as well as one hand. Midoriya smiled as he looked at the sleeping boy, muttering easily “Kacchan looks like a whole ‘nother person in his sleep.” There was no scrunch to his eyebrow, no wrinkle under his waterline. Though he was supposedly still unconscious, he still seemed to be doing little more than sleeping, something he expected of the rambunctious boy. Dropping his bag, Midoriya pulled out a vase from the open zipper and placed it on the table beside his bed before fitting the flowers in after it. They looked nice – he thought the yarrow in the arrangement looked nice across from Bakugou’s platinum hair. Shifting his gaze along Bakugou’s body, he took note of each bit of damage visible beyond his gown, especially staring at the hand.
“You’re so reckless…” Midoriya muttered, thinking of what might have happened if he hadn’t been there, but a twitch in Bakugou’s hand quickly brings him back to reality and he looks up.
“Ugh…” Bakugou groaned as he shifted to sitting, his gaze lifted to been Midoriya’s and immediately he snears: “Asshole, what are you loo-“ But his voice stops, hesitates, and draws his hands close to his head “What the fuck, is there shit in my ears?” He pokes and prods at his ears before looking at Midoriya again. “What the hell is going on? Hey!!! CAN YOU HEAR ME ASSHOLE?”
Midoriya stared with mouth agape at Bakugou as he prattled on, confused as to what was happening in front of him. Bakugou was just short of yelling each statement, his voice growing louder and louder with each moment. Swallowing, Midoriya responds after a painful silence. “Kacchan, can’t you hear yourself?”
“Stop mumbling, you piece of shit!!!”
Midoriya shakes his head, “I’m not mumbling!!” he shouts, but his words fall on… “Oh no.” Midoriya backs away, looking around for a writing utensil. “The marker board!” Grabbing the marker in the tray, he writes out clearly and as large as he can. “I’m getting a doctor,” before running out the door.
“What the hell- HEY, GET BACK HERE!” Bakugou clamours out of bed after Midoriya, but each moment of silence draws closer and closer in on him. There was no sound as the sheets ruffled against each other – nothing like the pad of feet as his souls struck the ground – not even the slap of skin on the frame of the door as he caught himself from running into the hospital hall. All around him was utter silence, even the siren screaming outside the building did not reach him. His knees felt weak as he watched Midoriya run from him; the world has lost its color.
<< Sign after me >>, Bakugou’s teacher lipped as his hands outlined a familiar sign. It was one of the first things Bakugou was taught, besides his name. With a frustrated glower he mimicked the motion, hands clumsy enough to get a correction. Time and time again he would get the sign wrong, not because he couldn’t do it, but because he was so fed up. It hurt, realizing what he had lost. The silence of the world around him was far too strange. He missed the sizzle and bang as fire erupted from his palms. He missed the snarl of his own voice, the gritting of his teeth inside his head. He wanted to hear his mother and father, to know he was being lectured at and called for.
His instructor shook his head, signing again, but Bakugou lashed out “I KNOW THE STUPID SIGN!!!”
“Katsuki!!!” His mother scolded from a distance, but Bakugou stayed all the same, vicious as a wild animal protecting its home.
“It’s fine, ma’am, it’s fine,” the instructor said as he waved a cautious hand. “Losing one’s hearing can be a very traumatic time in ones life. I’m sure Bakugou-kun is just frustrated after so much practice. Why don’t we call it a day and I’ll be back in a couple of days.”
“Ugh, alright. Why don’t I show you to the door?” Mrs. Bakugou and the instructor rose together, heading toward the front entrance. Behind them Bakugou brewed, bubbling in his own frustration. His mother always sat down with him and learned, but it was clear she was a mediator for Bakugou’s rage. He knew the signs. He studied them obsessively. He didn’t know what else to do without anything around him.
After a few minutes, his mom returned, setting down a platter with a lid over it. Bakugou frowned, looked up at his mother and asked: “What’s this?”
“Dango from Izuku’s mom!” But his mom hesistated as he scoffed – but a swat on the head was enough to communicate her frustration. “Let me think…” she paused, trying to remember what she, too, had learned in their lessons.
<< Dango, >> she signed, and paused for a time, and continued by spelling: << Izuku. >>
Bakugou’s eyes widened, hesitating for a moment before rising suddenly, charging the door, and throwing it open: “DEKU!!!!”
Midoriya spun around, hoping that he would have gotten away from the Bakugous’ house sooner, but with no luck, Bakugou had already found him. He turned, threw his hands up, and stuttered: “K-kacchan you know I can’t actually-“
“GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE OR I’LL KILL YOU.” It seemed, Midoriya thought, that his options were limited, and Bakugou disappeared back into the house. When he reemerged, with Midoriya at his doorstep, he shoved a markerboard against his chest. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Ow! What- Am I supposed to write on this?”
“Don’t stare at me, bastard!”
“Sorry! Sorry!” And so he wrote: Mom wanted me to bring it.
“What, is it some kind of pitty message? You think because I can’t hear I can’t do shit any more? Poor fucking Kacchan needs some goddamn dessert to feel like a human fucking being-“
“Katsuki! What the hell are you doing?” His mother appeared from inside the house, distantly but from where he was, Midoriya could see her- and she him in turn.
“Mom, give that garbage back to him!”
“I will not! Listen- AUGH! I can’t talk to you.”
“I DON’T WANT HIS FUCKING PITY!!!”
“Kacchan!”
His mother stammered over words, unable to think of the gestures to speak to her son.
“I DON’T NEED ANYONE’S FUCKING HELP!”
“KATSUKI, SO HELP ME I WILL-“
“Kacchan!”
A hand grabbed onto Bakugou’s shoulder, spinning him around and facing him toward Midoriya once more. Between them, the marker board was held up between them, scrawled out over it Midoriya had written: It’s because we care.
For a moment Bakugou paused, his expression loose and drawn out. It was hard to say what it all meant from him, but after a moment Bakugou reached out, yanking the marker board from Midoriya’s hand at the same time he pushed him back. The door slammed shut, leaving Midoriya and the marker itself behind, which fell just right so that the nib was destroyed.
Midoriya shook anxiously outside Bakugou’s house. It had been so long since they’d gotten into confrontation like that.
A hand grabbed onto Bakugou’s shoulder, spinning him around and facing him toward Midoriya once more. Between them, the marker board was held up between them, scrawled out over it Midoriya had written: It’s because we care.
For a moment Bakugou paused, his expression loose and drawn out. It was hard to say what it all meant from him, but after a moment Bakugou reached out, yanking the marker board from Midoriya’s hand at the same time he pushed him back. Stumbling back, Midoriya fell onto his ass as the door slammed between them, and from behind it he could hear Bakugou’s continued screaming at his mother slowly fade away. Midoriya sat for a time, feeling the ground with his hand as his gaze fell low. It had been quite a while since they’d gotten into any physical confrontation like that.
Standing up, Midoriya noticed the marker he had written with had been left behind, uncapped. He must have lost it when he fell, and thought to look for it and drop it in their mailbox before he left, but found instead that the nib of the marker had been crushed when it struck the ground. That was that, he supposed, squeezing the marker in his hand and glancing around. The cap he picked up, and then on his way he left the house.
Bakugou came back to school the next day, much to the surprise of the whole class. They celebrated with welcome back letters and affectionate slaps on the back. Bakugou cursed his friends, but nevertheless thanked them with an aggrieved huff. Midoriya watched in silence – he knew a great deal of their class had all pooled together to make something for Bakugou, himself included, but instead he folded his letter back into his pocket before ever passing it on to Bakugou.
Although the first day of Bakugou’s return was spent glad to see him back, especially among Bakugou’s friend, in time they fell back into their normal ways, and as more days passed a strange isolation built up from the clear language barrier that had formed between Bakugou and his classmates. His friends seemed to talk to each other before they would talk to Bakugou, preferring the ease of communication back and forth over the lengthy process of writing to Bakugou. With annoyance he was forced to pretend he wasn’t being babied a little by his fellows, but now and then he would snap; “I’m standing right here!” Bakugou’s unusual silence of late often resulted in the surprise of his friends. Bakugou could still talk back, even if he couldn’t hear anything.
Midoriya tried not to intervene, but it was clear to see even for him that Bakugou felt, at the very least, left out. He wasn’t able to participate in regular class any more, and required extra after school lessons to fill him in on anything he might not have been able to follow without sound. He still attended hero lessons at the end of class, but he seemed more brash, more careless – he took out his frustrations from the day like a unbiased flame, ready to consume and destroy anything in his path. And with each day from the epicenter of his frustration the flame burned more and more of the landscape around him, making his world baren as he felt. The silent world isolated him utterly.
Bakugou left the school in the late afternoon, several weeks since his world finally went quiet, his bag thrown over his shoulder as he walked with his eyes half opened. He remembered listening to music on his walk home, the hard rhythm of rap beating against his eardrums, so loud it drowned out even the loudest car horn. The world has always been too quiet for him. He liked the sound of explosions against his eardrums. The harsh beat of a blast. He wanted to feel it in his head and in his chest. He didn’t realize it then, but he knew now he loved sound.
Waiting at a stoplight, he paused and thought, brow furrowed. He didn’t believe in prophetic shit like how you know when someone is staring at you even if you can’t see them, but for a moment he debated looking back to see if maybe that was the case. Did he really want to? If someone were there, he hardly wanted to show them the sorrow that masked his eyes, cutting circles under them. But the feeling persisted, and finally he looked back.
There they were; the eyes on his back. Midoriya stood, frozen solid like a nervous deer, clutching onto the worn straps of an orange backpack. Bakugou cocked his head to the side as he looked back at Midoriya – just barely he remembered Midoriya’s face the moments after the blast that shook that building down to its foundation. “Shitty Deku, what the fuck are you stalking me for??” Bakugou cursed him with the same roughness that always came with his voice.
Tigher, Midoriya stiffened, his hands glued to the straps of his backpack as he stares at Bakugou. His knees felt weak, his arms felt like gelatin. For a moment they stared at each other before Bakugou scoffed at him and began to walk away. “No..!” Midoriya whispered, reaching out to Bakugou instantly and grabbing his shirt, pulling him back around so that he could be seen.
Again though, Midoriya hesitates, and slides his hands back to hold them in front of him. His hands moved anxiously: « WORDS »
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Bakugou was at the very top of that blaze, he knew, assigned stupidly together on an assignment hoping that they would finally jump the final hurdle of cooperation, yet when Midoriya ran back, Bakugou threw himself forward. They had different goals – one to destroy, one to protect.
He charged up the stairs at unreal speed, ducking under beams ablaze and leaping over collapsing staircases. Everyone was safe from the building’s fire… Except Kacchan. Midoriya’s feet pounded the ground as he ran, sometimes skidding to fast into a turn and slamming against a wall. “Kacchan!” he cried as and explosion overhead threatened the foundation of the building. Again he cried as he got closer, and on the last flight of stairs, as the air was red hot around him, he screamed again “KACCHAN!!!”
The explosions hardly ceased as he climbed, but just as he rounded the last flight of steps they ceased. Fear shook him, knowing that Bakugou was hardly one to leave dead air. The building was ablaze. The villain stood far on the otherside of the room, and between them stood Bakugou, clothes burned to shreads, his headpiece thrown in a distant corner, and the grenade on his right arm had broken open. His shoulders raised visibly as he panted from the exhilaration. “Bastard,” he cussed under his rugged breath, “This time you die!”
“Kacchan!!” He couldn’t do this here and now. He had to stop! But Midoriya’s call fell on deaf ears. Bakugou moved to pull the pin from his remaining grenade as Midoriya ran toward him from behind. The explosion set off, a thunder clap that shook the building and scortched the floor. The villain screamed as the floor began to crack beneath them. For only a second Midoriya hesitated against the blast, but back on his feet he ran toward Bakugou, suffering the center of the blow. Bakugou collapsed from exhaustion into Midoriya’s arms, who caught him just as the floor snapped beneath the two of them. The world rushed past Midoriya’s gaze, but without regret he clung to Bakugou as they fell down each story until the building collapsed.
When they reached the bottom, under the rubble of the floors that were above them, Midoriya coughed against the rubble. It seemed impossible to live through a fall like that, but with full cowl, it seemed almost anything was possible. Against his bosom he held Bakugou and panicked after a moment as he pulled the young man’s face away from his chest. “Kacchan! Kacchan, are you okay?? … Kacchan!” he shook him a few times, eventually stirring Bakugou from his half slumber.
Bakugou squinted for a moment at Midoriya and sneered. “Don’t fucking mumble, waste of… fucking.. bastard.” His head lolled forward, injured, asleep, and breathing. Midoriya’s heart raced anxiously, and he sighed. Standing up, his back brushing off rubble like it were lint, Midoriya stepped through the haze of dust and toward the distant scream of sirens.
no subject
“Ah, hi! No, I was..” Midoriya shifts on one foot, hiding something behind his back as he turns toward the doctor. She had tended to Midoriya over his injuries, which were luckily minor enough after everything that happened. Over his cheek a patch rested, and his shoulder was still bound in some wraps to protect the scabs. “I was hoping to see someone.”
“We don’t really do visiting for-“ but she paused as she saw his eyes turned away from her, gaze hardset on the door marked temporarily with Bakugou’s name and remembered what he hid behind his back. For a moment she paused before sighing, and waved her hand toward the door. “We haven’t spoken to him since he arrived, but we suspect he’s already woken up once. Let us know if he’s woken up.” She seemed tired.
Midoriya snapped to, cheeks flushed as he was caught in the act. “Th…thank you!” She was already leaving. Even with permission, Midoriya fussed and fidgeted as he eyeballed the door to Bakugou’s room, rolling between his fingers a ‘get well soon’ bouquet he had picked out for the boy. Why was this so hard? The years which have passed since Midoriya had obtained his quirk, there was reason enough to believe that he and Bakugou were on different terms, but still, Bakugou’s abrasiveness never seemed to subside. They never became friends again like Midoriya had wished – and it felt weird to realize so late that it was all he ever wanted.
He pulled the flowers in front of him and stared at the card, Get well soon Kacchan, it read, and he asked himself stupidly why he had decided to put the name down… of course Bakugou would know from that alone it was him who wrote it. He didn’t know how to grow out of that old, childhood name. Mustering his courage, he knocked on the door and pushed it open. “Kacchan?” There was no answer, and he slipped into the room.
No surprise, he thought, as he wandered into the room to find Bakugou sleeping quietly in the hospital bed. His patching up was just a little worse than Midoriya’s own, with his head wrapped in bandages as well as one hand. Midoriya smiled as he looked at the sleeping boy, muttering easily “Kacchan looks like a whole ‘nother person in his sleep.” There was no scrunch to his eyebrow, no wrinkle under his waterline. Though he was supposedly still unconscious, he still seemed to be doing little more than sleeping, something he expected of the rambunctious boy. Dropping his bag, Midoriya pulled out a vase from the open zipper and placed it on the table beside his bed before fitting the flowers in after it. They looked nice – he thought the yarrow in the arrangement looked nice across from Bakugou’s platinum hair. Shifting his gaze along Bakugou’s body, he took note of each bit of damage visible beyond his gown, especially staring at the hand.
“You’re so reckless…” Midoriya muttered, thinking of what might have happened if he hadn’t been there, but a twitch in Bakugou’s hand quickly brings him back to reality and he looks up.
“Ugh…” Bakugou groaned as he shifted to sitting, his gaze lifted to been Midoriya’s and immediately he snears: “Asshole, what are you loo-“ But his voice stops, hesitates, and draws his hands close to his head “What the fuck, is there shit in my ears?” He pokes and prods at his ears before looking at Midoriya again. “What the hell is going on? Hey!!! CAN YOU HEAR ME ASSHOLE?”
Midoriya stared with mouth agape at Bakugou as he prattled on, confused as to what was happening in front of him. Bakugou was just short of yelling each statement, his voice growing louder and louder with each moment. Swallowing, Midoriya responds after a painful silence. “Kacchan, can’t you hear yourself?”
“Stop mumbling, you piece of shit!!!”
Midoriya shakes his head, “I’m not mumbling!!” he shouts, but his words fall on… “Oh no.” Midoriya backs away, looking around for a writing utensil. “The marker board!” Grabbing the marker in the tray, he writes out clearly and as large as he can. “I’m getting a doctor,” before running out the door.
“What the hell- HEY, GET BACK HERE!” Bakugou clamours out of bed after Midoriya, but each moment of silence draws closer and closer in on him. There was no sound as the sheets ruffled against each other – nothing like the pad of feet as his souls struck the ground – not even the slap of skin on the frame of the door as he caught himself from running into the hospital hall. All around him was utter silence, even the siren screaming outside the building did not reach him. His knees felt weak as he watched Midoriya run from him; the world has lost its color.
no subject
His instructor shook his head, signing again, but Bakugou lashed out “I KNOW THE STUPID SIGN!!!”
“Katsuki!!!” His mother scolded from a distance, but Bakugou stayed all the same, vicious as a wild animal protecting its home.
“It’s fine, ma’am, it’s fine,” the instructor said as he waved a cautious hand. “Losing one’s hearing can be a very traumatic time in ones life. I’m sure Bakugou-kun is just frustrated after so much practice. Why don’t we call it a day and I’ll be back in a couple of days.”
“Ugh, alright. Why don’t I show you to the door?” Mrs. Bakugou and the instructor rose together, heading toward the front entrance. Behind them Bakugou brewed, bubbling in his own frustration. His mother always sat down with him and learned, but it was clear she was a mediator for Bakugou’s rage. He knew the signs. He studied them obsessively. He didn’t know what else to do without anything around him.
After a few minutes, his mom returned, setting down a platter with a lid over it. Bakugou frowned, looked up at his mother and asked: “What’s this?”
“Dango from Izuku’s mom!” But his mom hesistated as he scoffed – but a swat on the head was enough to communicate her frustration. “Let me think…” she paused, trying to remember what she, too, had learned in their lessons.
<< Dango, >> she signed, and paused for a time, and continued by spelling: << Izuku. >>
Bakugou’s eyes widened, hesitating for a moment before rising suddenly, charging the door, and throwing it open: “DEKU!!!!”
Midoriya spun around, hoping that he would have gotten away from the Bakugous’ house sooner, but with no luck, Bakugou had already found him. He turned, threw his hands up, and stuttered: “K-kacchan you know I can’t actually-“
“GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE OR I’LL KILL YOU.” It seemed, Midoriya thought, that his options were limited, and Bakugou disappeared back into the house. When he reemerged, with Midoriya at his doorstep, he shoved a markerboard against his chest. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Ow! What- Am I supposed to write on this?”
“Don’t stare at me, bastard!”
“Sorry! Sorry!” And so he wrote: Mom wanted me to bring it.
“What, is it some kind of pitty message? You think because I can’t hear I can’t do shit any more? Poor fucking Kacchan needs some goddamn dessert to feel like a human fucking being-“
“Katsuki! What the hell are you doing?” His mother appeared from inside the house, distantly but from where he was, Midoriya could see her- and she him in turn.
“Mom, give that garbage back to him!”
“I will not! Listen- AUGH! I can’t talk to you.”
“I DON’T WANT HIS FUCKING PITY!!!”
“Kacchan!”
His mother stammered over words, unable to think of the gestures to speak to her son.
“I DON’T NEED ANYONE’S FUCKING HELP!”
“KATSUKI, SO HELP ME I WILL-“
“Kacchan!”
A hand grabbed onto Bakugou’s shoulder, spinning him around and facing him toward Midoriya once more. Between them, the marker board was held up between them, scrawled out over it Midoriya had written: It’s because we care.
For a moment Bakugou paused, his expression loose and drawn out. It was hard to say what it all meant from him, but after a moment Bakugou reached out, yanking the marker board from Midoriya’s hand at the same time he pushed him back. The door slammed shut, leaving Midoriya and the marker itself behind, which fell just right so that the nib was destroyed.
Midoriya shook anxiously outside Bakugou’s house. It had been so long since they’d gotten into confrontation like that.
no subject
For a moment Bakugou paused, his expression loose and drawn out. It was hard to say what it all meant from him, but after a moment Bakugou reached out, yanking the marker board from Midoriya’s hand at the same time he pushed him back. Stumbling back, Midoriya fell onto his ass as the door slammed between them, and from behind it he could hear Bakugou’s continued screaming at his mother slowly fade away. Midoriya sat for a time, feeling the ground with his hand as his gaze fell low. It had been quite a while since they’d gotten into any physical confrontation like that.
Standing up, Midoriya noticed the marker he had written with had been left behind, uncapped. He must have lost it when he fell, and thought to look for it and drop it in their mailbox before he left, but found instead that the nib of the marker had been crushed when it struck the ground. That was that, he supposed, squeezing the marker in his hand and glancing around. The cap he picked up, and then on his way he left the house.
Bakugou came back to school the next day, much to the surprise of the whole class. They celebrated with welcome back letters and affectionate slaps on the back. Bakugou cursed his friends, but nevertheless thanked them with an aggrieved huff. Midoriya watched in silence – he knew a great deal of their class had all pooled together to make something for Bakugou, himself included, but instead he folded his letter back into his pocket before ever passing it on to Bakugou.
Although the first day of Bakugou’s return was spent glad to see him back, especially among Bakugou’s friend, in time they fell back into their normal ways, and as more days passed a strange isolation built up from the clear language barrier that had formed between Bakugou and his classmates. His friends seemed to talk to each other before they would talk to Bakugou, preferring the ease of communication back and forth over the lengthy process of writing to Bakugou. With annoyance he was forced to pretend he wasn’t being babied a little by his fellows, but now and then he would snap; “I’m standing right here!” Bakugou’s unusual silence of late often resulted in the surprise of his friends. Bakugou could still talk back, even if he couldn’t hear anything.
Midoriya tried not to intervene, but it was clear to see even for him that Bakugou felt, at the very least, left out. He wasn’t able to participate in regular class any more, and required extra after school lessons to fill him in on anything he might not have been able to follow without sound. He still attended hero lessons at the end of class, but he seemed more brash, more careless – he took out his frustrations from the day like a unbiased flame, ready to consume and destroy anything in his path. And with each day from the epicenter of his frustration the flame burned more and more of the landscape around him, making his world baren as he felt. The silent world isolated him utterly.
Bakugou left the school in the late afternoon, several weeks since his world finally went quiet, his bag thrown over his shoulder as he walked with his eyes half opened. He remembered listening to music on his walk home, the hard rhythm of rap beating against his eardrums, so loud it drowned out even the loudest car horn. The world has always been too quiet for him. He liked the sound of explosions against his eardrums. The harsh beat of a blast. He wanted to feel it in his head and in his chest. He didn’t realize it then, but he knew now he loved sound.
Waiting at a stoplight, he paused and thought, brow furrowed. He didn’t believe in prophetic shit like how you know when someone is staring at you even if you can’t see them, but for a moment he debated looking back to see if maybe that was the case. Did he really want to? If someone were there, he hardly wanted to show them the sorrow that masked his eyes, cutting circles under them. But the feeling persisted, and finally he looked back.
There they were; the eyes on his back. Midoriya stood, frozen solid like a nervous deer, clutching onto the worn straps of an orange backpack. Bakugou cocked his head to the side as he looked back at Midoriya – just barely he remembered Midoriya’s face the moments after the blast that shook that building down to its foundation. “Shitty Deku, what the fuck are you stalking me for??” Bakugou cursed him with the same roughness that always came with his voice.
Tigher, Midoriya stiffened, his hands glued to the straps of his backpack as he stares at Bakugou. His knees felt weak, his arms felt like gelatin. For a moment they stared at each other before Bakugou scoffed at him and began to walk away. “No..!” Midoriya whispered, reaching out to Bakugou instantly and grabbing his shirt, pulling him back around so that he could be seen.
Again though, Midoriya hesitates, and slides his hands back to hold them in front of him. His hands moved anxiously: « WORDS »