Work Text:
Bakugou tapped his foot nervously on the floor. His gaze kept drifting to the sign at the end of the hallway, above the large gate where people were entering to check in and grab a bite to eat before boarding their flights. Bakugou pulled his black baseball cap further down over his face. He wore prescription glasses and was dressed more casually than usual. No one would recognize the hero Dynamight even if he were standing a few feet away. He had made a point of being as inconspicuous as possible. The suitcase next to him was large and heavy. Yet it contained only the bare essentials. He didn’t want to take many things back from Japan. He wanted to leave everything behind. To start over. Just as they had planned together.
He pressed a button on his phone, which immediately lit up the screen. It was five past two in the afternoon. Midoriya should have been here ages ago. But maybe his bus was delayed. School was out, and lots of families had decided to fly off on vacation. It was possible he’d just been held up on the way, trying to guide the taxi in the right direction and find a place to get out at the crowded airport. Surely he’d been running straight toward him for a while now.
The screen went black. Bakugou turned it back on. Only a minute had passed. He unlocked the phone with his fingerprint. His heart immediately skipped a beat. In the background, Kirishima was still smiling at him. They were both in the photo; Kirishima had his arm around Bakugou’s shoulders and was pressing him against his massive, bare chest. Bakugou was wearing a black T-shirt with a skull on it—the one he’d had since high school and refused to part with, even though it already had small holes on the shoulder and along the hem. Kirishima loved that T-shirt. Sometimes he’d steal it from him so he could wear it too, but he’d just end up stretching it out. Bakugou couldn’t even get mad at him for it. He looked good in it. They were pressed close together, smiling widely, as if nothing in the world bothered them. As if they’d belonged together like this forever.
Kirishima thought so, and Bakugou believed it for many years too. He hoped that his love would be enough to fill the void in his soul, which constantly yearned for green hair, scarred palms, and a gentle laugh, while his ears listened to stories of heroes. It was enough—it had been enough for so long—until…
Bakugou clicked on settings and tried to delete the wallpaper. The phone immediately asked him if he wanted to do that. He should have clicked yes. It was over. After all, he ended it himself. It was he who decided to take that step that had been destroying him for so long. So why wasn’t it that easy? He looked at the screen again. At the sharp smile Kirishima had given him, at the wrinkles around his eyes, and at the black tips of his hair—the result of him no longer dyeing his hair red as often and occasionally letting it grow out a bit of its natural black.
“Seriously, Katsuki? After all these years, you’re telling me that all of this—what we had—was just a game? That it was all just an act you put on for me until Midoriya figured out how he felt about you? All of it—all of it! Just so you wouldn’t be alone and suffer if he never worked up the courage?”
He went back to the settings, clicked away the warning window, and the background disappeared. All that greeted him was the default blue color, which seemed to be trying to calm him down. It didn’t help. He turned off the screen. The clock read ten past two in the afternoon. A lot of time had passed. He looked into the entryway—at the first, second, and third doors. He didn’t see the familiar green mop of hair at any of them.
“You’re such a selfish person, Katsuki,” Kirishima sobbed as he clutched the mug of hot tea in his rough hands, the one engraved with their heroic names. A gift from Eri for their five-year anniversary. “You’re such a selfish person. You’re leaving me—and what do you expect? That I’ll be happy for you? That I’ll hope things work out for you? That I won’t be tortured every minute I see your smile on TV and news about your relationship?” He looked at him reproachfully. “You hid our relationship from the world. Will it be the same with him? Or will you finally proudly show your love, just as everyone thought you’d do with me?”
Bakugou slipped his phone into his pocket. He needed to think about something else. He’d even taken extra antidepressants, just to silence the thoughts screaming at him for a moment. It didn’t help. He felt even more anxious. He glanced at the board. The flight wasn’t delayed. He looked at the bus arrivals board. No delays there either. Where the hell was Midoriya?
He wanted to check his phone again, but decided instead to clasp his hands together and rest them in his lap. He needed to calm down. His heart was pounding in his chest as if it were about to explode at any moment. Wouldn’t be the first time. This time, though, it was making him queasy, and he felt like he was about to faint at any moment. He wanted to say something, calm himself down, stand up, and burn off some of that energy, as he usually did, but he couldn’t. He sat on that uncomfortable metal chair and waited. He waited for several hours, just as he had many times before.
“W-What do you mean she doesn’t know?” Kirishima wiped away the tears he couldn’t stop. When Bakugou handed him a handkerchief, he refused it. He couldn’t even look at him properly. He still couldn’t believe it. He’d broken up with him. And why, exactly? So he could be with someone who didn’t put their love first? Who was still in a relationship with someone else? “He… he’s still with Ochako?” Bakugou gritted his teeth. Her name made him so angry! “He—he’s still with her, and meanwhile you’re throwing our relationship away because you’re hoping he’ll do the same and you’ll be together? Katsuki, you’re the smarter one of the two of us. You know very well he won’t do that.”
“He loves me.” It was only the fifth sentence he’d spoken all evening.
Kirishima remembered them all—“We need to talk,” “I want to break up,” “I want to be with Izuku, just as he wants to be with me,” and “Today, he will tell her, and he’ll break up with her just like I’m breaking up with you.” They all hurt so terribly!
“And you?” His voice was quiet, pained.
Bakugou looked into Kirishima’s face. It was all red and wet with tears. He’d almost finished his tea. “I love him.” There was sincerity and love in his voice. Kirishima’s chin trembled, and tears began to stream down his face again.
“Wow. You haven’t told me that in a year.” Bakugou hadn’t even realized it. Kirishima chuckled. “That’s when you and Izuku started working at the agency, right?” Bakugou nodded. “I hate myself for making you try that one more time. To ask him one more time and force him to work with you. It’s my own fault, isn’t it?”
Bakugou stood up. He needed to walk around. His legs ached, his hands were shaking. He was on the verge of a panic attack. He could feel it. He needed to take a breath, walk around, start thinking about something else. But nothing helped.
He looked at the departure board again. The plane was leaving soon. An announcement came over the speakers, calling all passengers to board. Bakugou turned toward the door. “Where are you, Izuku?” he asked himself, crossing his arms over his chest. He had to admit it to himself. He was afraid. Not that something had happened to Midoriya, but that he’d changed his mind. That in the end, he didn’t mean enough to him to take that decisive step. It was easy to promise each other everything while they lay on the ground, their bodies still hot and wet from their shared passion, their cheeks flushed and their mouths full of promises and words of love. But reality always caught up with them.
Even though Midoriya promised he wouldn’t move in with Uraraka, he did it anyway. It was expected of him. They’d been together for four years; the public loved them. The savior of the world, a teacher at UA, Hero No. 4. A man with a good heart and sound moral principles. The ambassador of Uraraka’s Hero Theory for children, for which he was also her partner—they’d posed for several charity calendars together, and their matching outfits on the red carpet filled the pages of tabloid magazines.
And beside him was Bakugou—a sharp-tongued hero who didn’t hold back against anyone. Hero No. 5, who was slowly but surely climbing his way to the very top. A man who was called upon for the toughest cases, who could push his body to the very edge of its limits, yet still find a drop of untapped Quirk and ignite his inner fireworks, blinding everyone. A man who looked tough, hard, and unapproachable on the outside. But on the inside, he was gentle and willing to do anything for those he loved. He had been dating Kirishima for five years now, and they shared a home together. They had adopted two cats they’d once found by chance while on patrol. Blasty and Riot were cat males who loved to groom each other’s fur and sleep leaning against one another in the sun’s rays. They kept their relationship a secret from the public, at Bakugou’s request. At first, it was practical, so that no one could use their relationship as an excuse for blackmail. Over time, however, it began to take on a hidden meaning for Bakugou. It was easier to run away from the relationship if there was too much of it. It happened. Sometimes he felt too loved and pushed Kirishima away. They argued—not often, but fiercely. He would always cry and apologize afterward, knowing that the fault lay largely with him, and Kirishima—willing and loving Eijirou—always forgave him, ready to take him back into his arms and make love to him until the early hours of the morning, just to silence Bakugo’s hysterical thoughts for a moment.
But that wasn’t enough. The public lives they led in front of others; and the private lives known only to their friends. Bakugou and Midoriya were important to each other—it was impossible to keep them apart for long—but after a while, something changed in them. At first, they both tried to ignore it. But after working together for two months, when they were left alone in Bakugou’s office while reviewing the report on their mission against the villain, Bakugou suddenly focused too much on what Midoriya’s scars looked like, and Midoriya became all too aware of how wonderful Bakugou smelled—his cologne mixed with his sweet sweat. Neither of them knew how they ended up kissing. But that awful feeling they had afterward lingered in their stomachs for several more weeks. They avoided each other and didn’t speak to one another. Bakugou was more grumpy, and Midoriya was withdrawn. Once, he even burst into tears during class when one of his students mentioned that Dynamight was his inspiration.
“Did something happen between you two?” Kirishima asked cautiously one day as they were having dinner together and Bakugou was crushing fried carrots with his chopsticks. At first, his question startled him. Could he tell? Could Kirishima taste Midoriya’s scent on his lips? Had he heard how hard his heart was pounding when they saw each other? But Kirishima’s gaze was concerned. Not just for his partner, but for Midoriya as well. He liked him; he was his friend, and he always tried to get the two of them to finally get along. “You two should probably talk,” he simply said, deciding not to discuss it further, as he sensed that Bakugou wouldn’t tell him any more on his own. He always had to think everything through by himself first before he was willing to discuss it with anyone. Kirishima knew him too well to try to push him.
That night, Bakugou came to see Midoriya at his apartment. At the time, as the homeroom teacher of Class 2-A, he was still living in the dorms at UA. When they saw each other, they both blushed. Midoriya stammered, and that annoyed Bakugou so much that he shoved him aside and, without asking if it was okay, walked into his apartment. “We need to talk,” he said, standing proudly in the middle of the room, his chin held high, as if trying to prove to Midoriya that he was in control of the situation.
He didn’t. That night, he did what seemed most logical at the time. His body surrendered to every emotion. He cried and moaned as Midoriya showered him with kisses and words of love, driving him mad with his skilled touch. He’d never climaxed that quickly before.
When he returned to his apartment two hours later, Kirishima was asleep on the living room couch, the TV still on in front of him, two mugs of cold coffee sitting on the table. He had been waiting for him. But at that moment, Bakugou felt nothing. He stood there, remembering Midoriya’s touch, and decided he wouldn’t wash it off that evening. He’d savor it for a little while longer as he sank into the bed with the Crimson Riot and All Might sheets that Ashido had bought for them months ago as a joke. He sniffed his T-shirt, which still smelled of Midoriya’s shampoo and sweat.
It took three long, agonizing months before they were both able to admit to themselves that they were doing something wrong. “What’s wrong with love?” Bakugou asked back then, and Midoriya dropped the papers with his students’ tests from his hands. Bakugou said something rude and started picking up the papers, but Midoriya didn’t hear him at all. He kept fixating on that one word until he stammered, “L-love? Do you love me, Kacchan?” And only then did Bakugou realize how bad things had gotten.
It wasn’t until several weeks later that Bakugou finally mustered the courage to ask Kaminari if it was possible for two people to love each other. He was the one who, years ago, had been in a relationship with both Shinsou and Jirou until he decided to give it a try with Yaoyorozu—a relationship into which they had occasionally brought Jirou to liven up their evenings as a threesome. Kaminari didn’t catch on. He happily chatted about his love life, not sparing him even a few juicy details that made Bakugou roll his eyes, but he listened attentively nonetheless. What Kaminari was describing was different. It didn’t help Bakugou at all.
Although—when he looked at Kirishima a week later, laughing at a comedy series while cuddling with Blasty, who was purring contentedly on his lap, all he could think about was that he wanted Midoriya to be sitting there instead. He wanted Midoriya to be the one laughing so loudly and cuddling with his cat. He still liked Kirishima; he meant a lot to him, but Midoriya…
Words couldn’t express everything he felt for him.
It took Midoriya half a year to finally ask who they really were. They both had partners, their own family and love lives, and then there were those secret evenings they couldn’t talk about, where they enjoyed each other’s company and made promises they didn’t even know if they’d ever be able to keep. “What would you like to be?” Bakugou asked him with interest. Midoriya shrugged. He didn’t know. “I just want to be yours, Izuku,” Bakugou whispered resignedly.
It couldn’t be hidden anymore. They were too important to each other. Their love was beginning to overflow. Touches, glances, verbal hints. It couldn’t be hidden anymore! Their friends were starting to notice. Their families looked at them with confusion. Kirishima and Uraraka were starting to get jealous, and that slowly led to arguments. Everyone was losing their happiness. Including the two of them.
Everything changed three days ago. Midoriya finally asked that important question. “What are we going to do about this, Kacchan?”
And Bakugou had an answer for him. “Let’s run away together.” That’s why it was exactly as dramatic and mutually romantic as Bakugou could possibly make it. For over half a year, Jeanist had been offering to help him set up an agency in Italy. Now he had the chance. All it took was one thing—sign the contract, book a flight, hand over the company to the hero on his behalf (Todoroki had been registered as the third, unofficial member for years), pack his things, and break up with their partners. Free, independent.
A new beginning.
Bakugou was trembling with excitement as he packed the last item of clothing. He was just moving his suitcase toward the door when it opened and Kirishima walked in. He looked around in confusion at the mess surrounding him, at the suitcase bursting at the seams, and at Bakugou, who was burning with impatience. “What’s going on?” Bakugou had to tell him. He was ready to take it all—the insults, the yelling, the tears. Maybe he even deserved a slap or two. He still couldn’t figure out how he’d managed to lie to Kirishima and cheat on him for so long. It would hurt him personally if he found out Kirishima had done that to him. He hated himself for it. But he couldn’t stop. Midoriya was too much of a drug for him.
The second challenge. The clock was nearing half past two in the afternoon. Their flight was about to take off. They had to make it. They needed to catch a ride to their new house. A house they would be staying in for another two weeks before officially joining the agency. Two weeks when they could just be Bakugou Katsuki and Midoriya Izuku, a new, loving couple rewriting their memories together. So where the fuck was he?
Bakugou sat down again. His head was spinning.
“Didn’t you want me to be happy?” Bakugou asked reproachfully as Kirishima wiped the last tears from his face and began to speak with disappointment and anger. He was starting to realize how many lies Bakugou had told him, how long he had been hurting him, and that he hadn’t felt bad about it even once. So many nights they’d spent hugging, kissing, making love, planning their future—and all the while, he’d been doing the same with someone else. “Can I only be happy with you?”
“Don’t attack me, Katsuki,” Kirishima scolded him quietly, but his voice was dangerous. On the verge of exploding. “I’m not the one who caused this to end.” Bakugou scowled at him. “Didn’t I give you enough, Katsuki?”
Bakugou opened his mouth, wanting to argue, but he couldn’t. Kirishima was right. He had given him everything he needed. He had shown him what life, love, and loyalty were. He was the one who had trampled it all underfoot. But because… “You’re not Izuku.” Was that enough of an argument? For Bakugou, it was.
Kirishima jumped up from the table. “Get the fuck out, Katsuki,” he pleaded in a choked voice, once again filled with tears and despair. He needed to be alone. He was afraid of what he might do. That answer hurt so much! He didn’t want him near him, to feel his gaze, to hear his harsh replies. He wanted to be alone. To let it all sink in.
Bakugou said nothing. He stood up, left his apartment keys on the counter, and walked away with his suitcase. It might have looked like he’d just packed his things and left. He didn’t tell him he was planning to fly away. That he’d had his visa ready for a long time. That he’d deregistered from his permanent address. That he intended to stay in Europe and never return to Japan.
It would be better this way. One last lie, sharp as a knife, which he would plunge into his back, already pierced by lies.
He was just about to get back up when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He eagerly pulled it out, lit up the screen, unlocked it, and—
The world around him suddenly began to sink into darkness. Sounds blended into a single hum that began to tickle his brain, and he felt the urge to scratch at it and tear it open until it bled, just to understand whether the pain he felt in his chest was real or just a figment of his imagination. The hand holding the phone began to shake. He had to set the phone down on his lap, let go of it, and grab the chair with both hands to keep from collapsing to the floor.
His eyes darted back to the beginning of the conversation. Just two days ago, they’d been texting about what they’d do together in Italy, what Italian classes they’d take. Midoriya had been gushing about the heroes he’d meet, while Bakugou had been looking forward to Italian recipes he wanted to try out right away and perfect. Last night, before Uraraka was due back from her afternoon shift, Midoriya took a photo of his packed suitcase and sent it to him with the words: “Ready, Kacchan, can’t wait.”
Now he’d texted him again. Just two words. But they said it all.
[Izuku, 14:36]: I’m sorry.
That was all. It was enough. Bakugou understood. He knew what it meant. His heart began to pound and ache. It demanded an explanation. His brain tried to reassure him that it surely didn’t mean anything. That he was just running late. He’d just arrive late, they’d miss their flight, they’d have to text Jeanist to arrange another one, their work visas would expire, and they’d have trouble with the authorities—but that didn’t matter! They’d handle it together, and everything would be fine! After all, they were heroes.
His fingers couldn’t find the keys on the keyboard. He could’ve recorded a message, but he didn’t trust his voice. It got stuck in his throat and refused to let a single syllable out. He felt so weak and humiliated by himself! He needed an explanation, he needed to find out what had happened, he needed to make sure that Midoriya was on his way and that their plan for a new future was real!
Another message pinged. Bakugou clamped his hand over his mouth to keep from throwing up as his stomach twisted and clenched violently, as if someone were ripping it out of his body while he was still alive.
Midoriya had sent him a picture. An ultrasound scan. Uraraka was pregnant.
Pregnant.
With his child.
With Midoriya’s child.
Bakugou was still sleeping with Kirishima, even while he was in a relationship with Midoriya. Why couldn’t Midoriya be with Uraraka? They were both just as bad. Yet he didn’t like it. He was jealous. Deep down, he was afraid that one day they wouldn’t be careful enough and Uraraka would get pregnant. He and Kirishima might at most pull a muscle while trying out a new position, but Uraraka could be carrying a new life under her heart. Midoriya reassured him with words like “I’m being careful” and “I do it with you more often than with her.” It was cold comfort. Yet Bakugou was falling for it.
And now he knew that his fears had a real basis.
One last chance. The plane was leaving in five minutes.
Bakugou had to decide whether to get up and leave, facing the world alone—a world that was new and terrifying to him—or to go home. But—where, exactly?
To his parents? He would have to confess what he had done. They would never forgive him. They would be ashamed of him. He couldn’t be with them and endure their scornful glances every day.
Would he find a new apartment? He had the money for it. But he wouldn’t be able to be alone. His thoughts were far too scattered and confused for that. He would lose everyone. His family, his friends, the only people close to him. He would suffocate in loneliness until he succumbed to some cruel passion—unrestrained sex, alcohol, drugs. Maybe he would start hurting himself again like he used to, when after the war he couldn’t accept that he had survived and felt repulsive. If Kirishima hadn’t been watching over him back then, he would have been dead long ago.
Oh, sweet Kirishima. To be with him again? He would apologize to him; maybe they could try again. Kirishima had such a kind heart; he would surely welcome him back into his world. But he had told him he loved someone else. Could they get past that and start over?
The last option was the man who had stolen his heart. Midoriya, who was surely sitting in his apartment right now with Uraraka in his arms, chatting about what color to paint the nursery. He’d drive over to them; his suitcase was full of his things, so he could move in right away. And then he’d tell Uraraka immediately what had been going on between them for the past year. So she’d understand that her partner wasn’t the perfect man she’d dreamed of. Maybe she’d have a mental breakdown, maybe that would end their empty fairy tale of a perfect relationship and future family. Who knows, maybe the stress and heartbreak alone would cause her to miscarry—
His stomach churned again. God, Katsuki, you’re not that kind of asshole. You wouldn’t do this to her. He looked again at the message he’d sent him. He swallowed. His throat was completely dry. You wouldn’t do this to him either. You love him too much for that.
But love wasn’t supposed to hurt like this, was it?
He stood up. He looked toward the gate. Tears stung his eyes.
He had thrown away everything he owned. Just to fulfill a dream he didn’t even have the right to dream.
He turned off his phone. He took out the SIM card and tossed it in the trash. He put the now-useless phone in his backpack, which he slung over his shoulder. Bakugou walked up to the counter, showed his boarding pass, which the agent scanned with a glance, and with a smile, they wished him a safe flight.
He was at the starting line of his new life. All alone. Maybe that’s how it was always meant to be. At least now he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else. Only himself.