<< 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.
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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.