WARNING: there is a lot of vomiting and dry heaving in this chapter, mostly due to an anxiety attack and trauma. Also graphic depictions of injury etc from a car accident.
Bakugou worked at the main campus coffee shop. Was it kind of lame? Yes. Did it mean he had to be at least a little social? Also yes. But did it provide him with an endless supply of caffeine that he used to make up for the small amount of calories he permitted himself? Hell yeah. Unfortunately, between an off-semester graduation, a couple drop outs, and a general lack of willingness in the employees to work, they'd hired several new employees for the semester, and he was not looking forward to meeting them. At least he'd met Jiro last night and that had gone pretty well. She was sort of edgy-looking, with purple asymmetrical bangs and earbuds she refused to take out, but she was also quiet and mostly left him alone in a silence that quickly moved past kind of awkward to oddly comfortable. He also couldn't deny that he was a little [oh my god, Katsuki, is that eyeliner? What the hell is wrong with you?] edgy looking too at times, and her general vibe made him feel a little less like a weirdo. He'd never admit that, though, and he had low expectations for any other new hires.
Even his low expectations were too high, however, which he discovered when he turned around just in time to look right into the face behind a delighted cry of "Kacchan!"
Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh god. Oh damn. He was running out of curses. He never ran out of curses, but he was drawing a total blank in that moment. Why was the universe like this? Had he pissed off some sort of god he didn't even believe in? What had he done to deserve this?
"You guys know each other or something?" Jiro asked hesitantly, looking at Bakugou's darkened expression.
"No," he said, at the exact same time that Deku said "yes!" very enthusiastically. Jiro raised an eyebrow and then shrugged, turning back to wipe down the counter. Deku wasn't phased in the slightest.
"I was really nervous to start here, but I'm glad to see a familiar face!" he said cheerily. He seemed less daunted by Bakugou's roughness than he used to be. That wasn't good. Bakugou trained his eyes firmly on Deku's stupid broccoli head and refused to look any lower into his eyes or, god forbid, at his arms-
Don't think about that, don't think about that. "Yeah, whatever," he snapped back. "I'm busy, ask Jiro for help."
"I started yesterday!" she protested, somehow hearing him over her music. Bakugou must have looked really desperate, however, because Jiro caved. "Fine, I'll teach you whatever I've already learned. Come here and I'll show you how to make the mocha, that's the most common one I've seen yet. I'm Jiro, nice to meet you."
"Midoriya, or you can call me Izuku!" Still seemingly unfazed, Deku bounced excitedly over to Jiro as she nodded to acknowledge his introduction and then began pointing out the different ingredients and discussing the amounts required.
Bakugou just watched, trying not to panic. He had seen him around campus here and there, had a few stilted conversations but mostly fled as soon as he could. He wasn't the asshole he used to be, or at least not as much, but he still didn't want to see Deku. Trying to drive him away had turned into a more avoidant tactic when he realized the cruelty wasn't working and just made him feel like a piece of shit. The kid was too stubborn for his own good, and so Bakugou just had to run. But he couldn't now, could he? This job was the best he'd had in a while. The hours were great, management was flexible and understanding, it was in the campus center so he didn't have to drive extra, the pay was decent, and he was comfortable with tasks it required. He didn't want to find a new job. Maybe this was a sign, maybe he needed to learn how to stop emotionally reacting to Deku. Maybe if he was apathetic but not cruel, Deku would understand. Maybe this was something that he needed to work past to recover fully. Maybe, maybe, maybe. All he knew was that for the time being, he'd be seeing Deku several times a week whether he liked it or not. And he couldn't break down because of it.
Looking back over at Deku, he watched as he tried to make a practice mocha under Jiro's watchful eye. Jiro, bless her heart, gave no visible reaction when Deku reached to pump syrup into the cup and his hands came into full view, mottled and scarred from his fingertips up to where his arms disappeared into his sleeves. Bakugou, however, flinched and looked away, feeling his breathing become slightly labored. It was fine. They were fine. Deku was safe, he was just working on steaming some milk now. But Bakugou was entirely too close.
Tap. Tap. Fuck, not right now! Bakugou pulled his hand away from the counter and clenched his fist, nails digging into his already sore palms. He couldn't do it, especially not with Deku and Jiro so fucking close. No. His arms started shaking and his chest felt heavy. Something bad was coming, was going to happen if he didn't just do it. He just had to [fucking freak, I don't know where the fuck you got that psycho habit but it definitely isn't from my side of the family] tap. Twice. He had to. If he didn't...if-
Tap "Ka-" tap "cchan." He said it under his breath, tried to be quiet, but Deku's ears perked up and he turned to look at him. It was too much. Bakugou's vision narrowed, black spots threatening to take over, and he ran. He ran like he always did with Deku, like a fucking coward.
"Kacchan?" Deku's voice called after him, but he barely noticed. He rounded the corner and unintentionally plowed his way through a group of students, desperate to get to the bathroom down the hallway to hide. He could feel eyes on him as he ran, hear someone yell at him for slamming into them, but he didn't care. Bile rose up in his throat and he burst through the bathroom door and into the large stall just in time to heave into the toilet. The stall door swung out and then swung back to close, hitting the latch with a bang that startled him and almost made him miss the toilet with the second wave of vomit. It was all stomach acid. When was the last time he ate? Normally he kept better track, what was wrong with him? He just couldn't think. He couldn't think straight at all.
Blood dripped down his forehead toward his eye, and Bakugou squinted. He couldn't see, which was a blessing and a curse as it faded the bloodied glasses on the center console from his vision. But what if Dad was just hurt? What if he wasn't actually- wasn't...he had to check. He had to. Bakugou coughed, covering his mouth with a shaking hand. He heard faint yelling but his ears were ringing from the crashing sound. The second car seemed to have fallen, it had blocked Deku from his vision and crushed the left and back sides of the car, blocking his escape. He'd have to crawl out the front anyway, if he could. It was dark, and he started to realize that they must have slammed into a building, because there was brick blocking his window. He felt frozen, but he had to move. He wiped away tears and blood from his face and hesitantly tried to crawl forward. His body hurt, but he was able to move better than he'd thought he would. Slowly, with shaking limbs and a trembling bottom lip, he crawled to the front and leaned around the driver's seat to look at his father.
Bakugou screamed.
Tap tap. It wasn't Bakugou- someone had knocked on the stall door, jerking him out of his foggy brain. "You alright in there?" a bored drawl asked.
"'M fine," Bakugou slurred, feeling dizzy.
"Test anxiety?" the voice asked.
Bakugou really didn't feel like talking. "Try trauma," he said sarcastically, then dry heaved.
"Look," the bored voice said as if it took a lot of effort, "I'm gonna be really blunt here, I had a friend that choked on his own vomit after drinking too much and he died, so I don't really wanna leave until you're done throwing up."
"That's...dark," Bakugou said, and then promptly vomited again. His eyes and nose burned and the taste almost made him heave immediately after.
"Dark, but real." He could almost hear the other person shrug.
Bakugou stopped giving a fuck. "Bakugou Katsuki," he rasped, his voice trying to leave him suddenly.
The person laughed slightly. "Just call me Shinsou," he said. "I'm not really feeling formal."
"Hardly a formal setting," Bakugou snorted. "This floor is disgusting."
"I can only imagine," Shinsou mused. "Mind if I come sit in the filth with you?"
Bakugou had stopped giving a fuck, so why not? "Stall's not locked," he said, vision blurring again as he swayed slightly. The stall got a bit brighter as the door swung open and then dimmed as it closed again. He should probably be bothered by the situation, but Shinsou didn't lock the stall and Bakugou was too worn out from vomiting to care. He leaned against the wall heavily and then turned to look at the other boy.
"You look great," Shinsou said, as Bakugou analyzed him. He was tall and lanky, with purple hair that seemed to somehow float above his head. His eyes were heavily underlined with dark circles and his eyebrows seemed to stay low above his eyes. He crossed his long limbs as he sat down on the disgusting floor, seemingly uncaring about the germs and filth.
"You should see me after a nightmare," Bakugou joked weakly. He was pretty sure the vomiting was just making him delirious.
"At least you sleep," Shinsou said.
Bakugou stared at him for a moment before realizing he was joking. "Yeah it's not hard to tell you don't," he threw back.
"If we're going based on looks right now, I think I'm winning," Shinsou replied, and right on cue Bakugou threw himself over the toilet again and launched more stomach bile into the porcelain bowl.
"Uuugh," he groaned exhaustedly, falling back against the wall like a ragdoll.
"You really don't have anything left, do you?" Shinsou mused. "Trauma making you vomit. Interesting."
"Yeah, it's just fascinating," Bakugou rasped, too tired to sound as snarky as he wanted to.
"Wanna talk about it?"
"You don't really strike me as a guy who wants to sit on a bathroom floor and talk about a stranger's problems." Bakugou let his head fall back and his eyes close.
"No one actually wants to do that," Shinsou said. "But if you're in here puking because of it, you probably need to talk about it. And I think you're gonna be throwing up stomach acid for a bit longer, so you might as well entertain me."
"It is very entertaining," Bakugou snorted. He dry heaved again but nothing came up. "Uuugh. I was in a car accident years ago with a friend."
"Rough," Shinsou said sympathetically.
"My dad died."
"Oof."
"My best friend got hella scarred pulling me out and I can't look him in the face anymore."
The shattered windshield still held together by its protective wrapping started moving as if someone was trying to pull it away. Bakugou hardly noticed as he fell into the passenger seat, voice cracking from his scream. His dad's skull was crushed in by the bent driver's side door, brain matter and blood leaking down what was left of his face and splashing onto his shoulder and the center console. It seemed like the entire right side of the car had been melded with his father's body. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that he was...dead. There was no way he'd lived even a minute. It was horrifying and disgusting and Bakugou almost threw up again. He felt like passing out.
The windshield bent in half and pulled away and Deku's frantic eyes found him, then looked at his dad. "Oh my god, oh my god Kacchan," he stuttered, covering his mouth. "Kacchan, you have to climb out, it could catch on fire-" Sirens wailed in the distance, finally. Bakugou heard other voices yelling, but they were further than Deku. Deku reached down into the vehicle. "Kacchan, take my hand!"
Bakugou finally, finally moved, grasping Deku's hand and forcing himself to follow the motion as Deku pulled him up through the bent opening in the front of the car. Deku's hand was slick and he smelled like gasoline, but his only concern seemed to be Kacchan.
"We- we have to go," Bakugou choked out, though he could hardly see. They were crouched on the crumpled hood of the car, but they were stuck in a corner. The second car had driven them against a building and they were trapped.
"I had to climb over the top of the car," Deku told him.
"You kids alright?" someone yelled. "Climb over here, there's gasoline leaking and we can't come closer, you need to hurry!"
Gas? Deku must have gotten it on himself. His hands were bloody too, probably from the windshield. "Come on," Bakugou urged, instincts kicking in at last. He stood and stepped carefully onto the roof of the car, turning to help Deku up it. The second car had rolled down and crushed the back and side of their car, and it would be a tight squeeze to get around it. Bakugou refused to look at the driver's seat of the second car, just in case. Stop thinking. Don't think about it. Just climb. He squeezed past the second car and jumped down, finally on the ground. The thought made him want to cry. Deku landed behind him and Bakugou caught him before he fell, pulling him toward safety.
They only made it a few feet before the explosion sounded and Bakugou went hurtling forward, slamming into the concrete and losing consciousness.
"Hey, hey!" someone slapped his face lightly and Bakugou yanked in air suddenly as if he hadn't breathed in several minutes. "Fuck, finally. You freaked out."
Bakugou leaned over and dry heaved one, two, three times over the toilet. Too many fucking flashbacks. He must have launched himself into an anxiety [are you fucking crazy, kid? Fucking breathe!] attack. "I'm sorry," he choked out, the panic of someone seeing him have an attack kicking in. Old habits died hard.
"It's okay," Shinsou said, bored-sounding and slowly enough that Bakugou oddly felt he was being sincere. His vision tried to black out entirely and he fell, slamming into Shinsou's lanky arm as the other boy caught him. "Damn, kid, you're fucked up."
"Thanks," Bakugou said distantly, trying to regain his bearings. He'd pushed it a bit too much with his calorie limiting that week, hadn't he? Though he normally didn't throw up this much.
"The snark doesn't stop even when you're passing out," Shinsou snorted. "It's a lifestyle, I guess. Mine too. Think you're done vomiting?"
"I don't think there's anything left," Bakugou said weakly. He felt extremely pathetic as Shinsou helped prop him back up against the wall.
"I thought that like ten minutes ago," Shinsou said. "You need fluids, badly."
"I need to call my boss. And maybe my roommate." Bakugou really didn't want Kirishima to see him like this, but he wasn't stupid enough to think he could drive home.
"You work here?" Shinsou asked.
"Coffee shop," Bakugou grunted, closing his eyes again.
"How about you call your roommate and I'll go over there and let someone know you can't come back?"
"Why the fuck are you being so nice?" Bakugou questioned, opening one eye to look at the other boy.
"Maybe you just look that pathetic," Shinsou shrugged.
Bakugou let out a weak laugh. "I'll buy that excuse," he said.
"And you're done vomiting, right?" Shinsou asked. "I'll come back but-"
"I won't vomit and choke to death while you're gone," Bakugou assured him, because he wasn't actually an asshole inside and out. Shinsou was being...really nice, honestly, even though he had a really weird way of showing it.
"Maybe I just don't want to go to class," Shinsou said as he stood.
"M'kay," Bakugou snorted, closing his eye again and sighing. "Thanks."
"I'll be right back." Shinsou ignored his thanks and left. Bakugou struggled to yank his phone from his pocket, thankful he hadn't set it down on the counter at work. He'd rather text Kirishima, but he didn't have the energy to type and read, so he called him instead.
Kirishima answered immediately, bless his soul. "Yo."
"Hey." Bakugou's voice was nearly gone. "I'm at work-"
"You sound like shit, man, need me to come get you?"
Bakugou had never felt so much affection for his roommate. No. Not affection. Kirishima was just very helpful. Shut up. "Are you able to? I don't...think I should drive right now."
"Yeah, campus center? I just got out of finite."
"Yeah. Campus center, first floor."
"Okay. At the coffee shop?"
Bakugou considered his options. He definitely couldn't go back to the shop right now, and he honestly wasn't sure he could move at all without some help. "I'm...I'm in the bathroom closest to it."
"Understandable, bro. I'll be there soon."
"Thank you," Bakugou said quietly, feeling like any fight or usual aggressiveness had left him entirely.
"Of course, man, I told you I'm here for you. See you in a few."
Someone knocked on the stall door right as Kirishima hung up, and then Shinsou opened it. "I told your coworkers, they said they could let your boss know."
"Cool." Bakugou sighed. "I look stupid."
"I'd agree but it's not because of the whole puking thing," Shinsou drawled at him, and Bakugou wrinkled his nose.
"You're really mean for such a nice person," he said.
"I'm not nice," Shinsou protested. "Just don't wanna end up in the news for abandoning someone while they choked to death."
"No one would even know," Bakugou argued. "But my roommate is coming, he'll be here soon."
"I've invested enough time in this, is there some way you could, uh, contact me to let me know you're fine?" Shinsou asked suprisingly hesitantly.
Bakugou stared. "You want...my phone number?"
"I'm not hitting on you," Shinsou rolled his eyes. "My heart is already taken by a dumbass in one of my classes who's never even looked at me and is totally unaware of my existence, I promise. Call it anxiety. Because of, uh. Past events."
Bakugou stared for a moment longer. He didn't make friends, especially not by puking his guts out in a public bathroom that miraculously no other students had wandered into. He was also feeling really woozy and he was...glad that he hadn't been alone. "Yeah, ok." He unlocked his phone and held it out. "Just put yourself in my contacts, I can't write at the moment." Shinsou still didn't even grimace as he picked up Bakugou's phone, despite having watched the other boy vomit for quite a while, and Bakugou wondered what the fuck the guy had seen that had made him so casual about it all.
"I want to be a doctor," Shinsou said as he handed the phone back, answering Bakugou's unasked question. "Can't really have a problem with vomit in that field." It made some weird sense.
"Good luck with that," Bakugou said, trying to readjust himself so he didn't look quite so much like a dead body slumped in a corner. The bathroom door creaked open.
"Bakugou?" Kirishima's voice called.
"Last stall," Bakugou said, his voice cracking awkwardly.
Shinsou pulled the stall door open. "Bakugou's roommate?"
"Yeah?" Kirishima sounded confused.
"I was just making sure he didn't choke on his vomit," Shinsou explained. "Seeya." Then he was gone and Kirishima entered the stall and did a doubletake.
"Jesus Christ, Bakugou, you look like shit."
"So I've already been told," Bakugou answered. "I feel a bit delirious, so just pretend none of this happened. Or anything else I do today. Please."
Kirishima looked extremely concerned at that. "Do you need help standing?"
"I- yes." Bakugou refused to make eye contact. This was horrifying. Embarrassing. He felt a little like that one time he tried smoking weed in highschool, had a horrible coughing fit, and then got too high to feel the full extent of his embarrassment. It had felt a bit like watching someone else be horribly awkward, except it was him and he felt numb and tingly. Kirishima leaned over him to flush the toilet and then bent down and helped Bakugou get an arm over his shoulders before he carefully helped him to his feet. The room was spinning, but Bakugou refused to show just how shitty he felt. He didn't realize he was leaning to the side until Kirishima stumbled a bit.
"Are you sure you can walk right now?" he asked. "I'm calling Kaminari."
"No!" Bakugou protested and then coughed. It hurt like a bitch. "I can walk. I can walk." He stood up straighter, closing his eyes to stop the spinning of the room. It helped a bit. "I'm okay."
Kirishima seemed to realize Bakugou felt embarrassed and didn't want anyone else to see him, so he let it drop and readjusted his arm around Bakugou's waist. "Okay, let's try a few steps. But we're taking the elevator. I moved my car to the basement parking garage because it's closest."
Bakugou cringed. He hated small spaces, but he couldn't tell Kirishima that. This was already embarrassing enough. He'd just keep his eyes closed on the ride down, and that way things wouldn't spin. He followed Kirishima's slow first steps, and miraculously didn't fall.
"Dude, you're super light," Kirishima frowned. "I could probably just throw you over my shoulders."
Bakugou snorted. "Yeah, sure."
"I'm serious," Kirishima said, and Bakugou pushed forward, wanting to get away from the conversation. Kirishima caught up and they somehow made it out of the bathroom and down the hall without too many weird looks. The elevator was blessedly empty, and closing his eyes helped with the anxiety and whole room-spinning-out-of-control thing. They hobbled over to Kirishima's car, and Bakugou half fell into the passenger seat when Kirishima opened the door. The other boy leaned over and pulled the seatbelt around him, hooking his arm through and latching it.
"Thanks," Bakugou mumbled. His eyes didn't want to stay open.
"You're pretty upright this way," Kirishima said. "Just sleep if you need to."
He'd barely finished his sentence before Bakugou was out like a light.