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Denki comes to slowly, a harsh ache buzzing in his muscles.His mind is numb, everything around him a meaningless grey. His back stings with every minuscule movement as he tries to look around and remember what happened.Denki comes to confused, hurt, and alone. When he finally manages to sit up enough to see his surroundings, he’s met with an unfamiliar empty room. Bare walls, an empty desk, haphazardly placed boxes and bags, a cream colored carpet—Suddenly, Denki can’t breathe.He scoots backwards (why is he on the floor?) until he hits the wall, frantically searching for an exit or something familiar.Where is he? Where the fuck is he?His collar chokes him, cutting off his airway with a vengeance. He scrambles to undo the buttons on his school uniform, hands shaking as he yanks on his collar with a whimper.Denki gasps and chokes and wheezes and holds back tears, pulling on his hair once his neck is free.
(where is he where is he where is he—)
It hits him out of nowhere.They were moving into the dorms, everyone was upset after Aizawa said he would’ve expelled them all, then…Denki clutches his throbbing head, wincing as the pain spikes.Then Bakugou… oh.Bakugou made him short circuit. Dragged him behind a bush and didn’t even ask or explain before he…Spit dribbles down Denki’s chin, a vomit-like substance coats his tongue. He wraps his arms around his knees, drawing them close to his chest. Normally, rocking back and forth soothes his nerves, but instead it just makes his anxiety skyrocket.He must be in his dorm room now. But… why would everyone leave him alone? And on the floor? There’s a bed right there, why…No, he should be grateful they even brought his boxes up (the bare minimum… but is it fair to expect more than the bare minimum?). His limbs are weak and shaky after coming back to himself, hauling all those boxes would’ve taken forever.It was kind of them.He only allows himself a brief moment to rest before pushing himself to his wobbly feet. He has work to do, after all. His sore muscles protest and he has to brace himself against the wall as colorful, psychedelic spots pop in and out of his vision.Bile crawls up his throat as he stumbles to the desk chair. He collapses into it, closing his eyes and leaning back until his head meets the wall. He wishes he could just throw up and get the nausea over with, but it’s never that easy.
(why did they leave him on the floor…)
Exhaustion clings to his face, his eyelids drooping every few seconds. He wants to sleep, but his bed isn’t made and he’ll get cold without his blankets and his neck will hurt like a bitch without a pillow. Besides, he has no idea which box his bedding is in, nor does he have the energy to sift through everything to find it.Typically, when he comes back to himself, he’s just really tired for a couple minutes. Sometimes annoyed or frustrated at himself, sometimes energized and ready to go again.Now, though, he just feels empty and hurt.He’s been discarded, like an old shirt or stale inside joke (heh, maybe he is an inside joke). And he’s left alone with his thoughts.Thoughts can be more dangerous than even the most powerful enemy.Memories swarm him, poking and jeering at him. He hears every Dunce Face, every unoriginal remark about his intelligence, every hurtful, dream-crushing word from his old teachers.Moments upon moments, sneer upon laughter upon pointing upon mocking upon insult upon—Denki can’t breathe.And as he sits in his desk chair, clutching his stomach in order to keep his pieces intact, rocking back and forth, chirping aggressively with each ragged breath he feels unfiltered anger towards his classmates.And for the first time since he’s heard about the dorms, he wants to go home.Maybe he falls asleep for a bit—he’s so out of it he can’t differentiate between dreaming and a wandering mind—but he jolts and nearly falls out of his chair when someone knocks at his door.He thanks All Might that he stopped hyperventilating awhile ago.A dorm room contest and tour.His classmates ask if he wants to participate in a dorm room contest and tour. Denki isn’t a petty person, not by any means, but it takes every ounce of self-control he has to not slam the door in their faces or spark at the audacity. A dorm tour? How’s he supposed to have anything put away?And everyone says he’s the stupid one.
(no, that’s not fair: they aren’t stupid, they just don’t know, they don’t get it)
(man, that mantra sucks)
So, no, he doesn’t join them for the contest, nor does he join them for dinner. Or breakfast the next day. Because he can handle a lot: teasing, insults, mocking… but leaving him like that? No, he hit his limit.Instead, he holes himself up in his room, listening to an English audiobook Present Mic recommended while he puts everything away. He slips away in the middle of the night once and takes a hot shower to ease his sore muscles, but that’s the only time he leaves his room. He packed plenty of snacks that he never had the chance to store in the kitchen. It isn’t the healthiest meal, but he’d rather eat a bunch of junk food than face everyone.The bitterness festers and grows as classes start back up. He hoped he’d be able to laugh it off by Monday, that he’d be over it. He usually is. But he’s tired.Instead of greeting everyone with a smile and a wave, he slips by when no one is looking and is the first one to class.He knows Iida and Yaoyorozu will arrive shortly, so he puts his headphones in and continues listening to the audiobook.Surprisingly, Aoyama is the next to arrive, running their fingers through their hair as they saunter to their seat. Well, they were always morning person.Aoyama pauses as they pass Denki, their brows shooting into their hairline. Their eyes quickly soften into some kind of pity before they continue on.Denki isn’t sure whether he’s grateful that Aoyama seems to feel bad or embarrassed that he’s being pitied. Well, at least they have enough social awareness to leave him alone.The rest of his classmates trickle in, most glancing curiously in his direction but walking away when they see his headphones.Normally just the headphones wouldn’t be enough to stop the barrage of questions he knows lie on the tip of their tongues, so Denki assumes his heavy eye bags and furrowed brows adds to the whole ‘leave me alone’ brooding thing he has going on.When Bakugou enters, his beady red eyes zone in on Denki, so he turns his volume up higher and hides his face in his arms. He hears Bakugou’s muted yells through his music, and snorts. Every day Bakugou gripes about how annoying he is and why can’t he just shut up, and the one day he listens, it’s suddenly an issue.He keeps his head down until Ojirou brushes his arm with his tail.At least he can count on Ojirou.Homeroom is awkward, to say the least. The tension is thick and suffocating, like everyone knows something is wrong but isn’t sure what.Aizawa teaches a little bit, then curls up in his sleeping bag and gives them the rest of the period to work on stuff. If Denki were in a better mood, he’d make some joke about how Aizawa is going easy on them since things have been so stressful lately.But he’s not, and there’s an uncomfortable silence where his well-timed quip would usually be.And in go the headphones again.Denki sees Mina scoot close to him, notices the way Kirishima leans closer to him, and something in his chest tightens angrily.How dare they? He loves them—they’re his best friends—and he wants to laugh it off and play stupid and let it go but… but they… no. He can’t, not yet. He needs more time.When Sero and a petulant Bakugou pull their chairs up, completing a semi-circle around his desk, Denki stands. He grabs his bag, rolls his eyes, then makes his way over to Aoyama, who actually respects that he wants to be left alone.He pretends not to notice the three dejected and concerned faces and the one pissy face.The rest of the day drags on, like the world knows that Denki is avoiding his problems. Most of his friends try talking to him at least once, but he manages to slip away before they can say much.He quietly eats lunch with Aoyama, Tokoyami, and Kouda rather than his usual group of friends. Aoyama fills the silence with rambles, never asking anything of any of them, but pausing to let them know they can speak if they want to.It’s weirdly nice, not feeling pressured to speak or crack jokes.Lunch ends with Aoyama placing their hand on top of his, smiling gently. “I’m here if you need to talk, mon ami.”And, even though he didn’t say a word, Denki’s never felt more heard.He manages to avoid interacting with everyone for the remainder of the school day thanks to the help of his lunch mates, who let him tag along with them.The anger has festered throughout the day, bubbling over the pot and spilling out the sides. He hates being angry—it’s not him—but once he lets it in, it’s hard to let it go.He’s almost back at the dorms when Bakugou ambushes him.“Oi! Dunce Face! What the fuck is your problem!”Denki scowls and keeps walking. He just wants to go back to his room and wallow in despair on his own, is that too much to ask?Unfortunately, it is because Bakugou is stubborn. He’s more than stubborn, he’s, like, advanced stubborn or something. Denki has only a couple of seconds to brace himself before the thundering footsteps grow closer and a hand digs into his shoulder.“Don’t fucking ignore me!”Denki squeezes his eyes shut and tries taking deep breaths. He has to be calm—that is the only way to deal with Bakugou when he gets all riled up. But God, he doesn’t want to be calm. It isn’t fair. He’s the one who’s upset, who got hurt, therefore he should be the one yelling.“Oh, so now you actually care about me?” he says slowly, attempting to shrug Bakugou’s hand off. It doesn’t work. If anything, his grip gets tighter.“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bakugou growls, forcibly turning Denki so they’re facing each other.“I don't know,” Denki shrugs. “You’re smart, why don’t you figure it out yourself.”“Is this about the other day?” Bakugou asks, eyes narrowed.A scoff is all Denki offers in response.Bakugou scoffs right back. “Really? You’re all bent out of shape over that?” He shakes his head like he’s disappointed or something, and that stings more than anything. “News flash! Everyone was upset so I had to—”That does it for Denki. He pulls away from Bakugou, stumbling back so hard he needs to hold the wall for support. “Yeah. Everyone was upset, like you so kindly just pointed out!” he bites back. “Am I not everyone?”“What d’ya mean?”And Denki can’t help but laugh, a bitter, strangled sound as he swipes at his eyes.Because of course “everyone” doesn’t include him. It never does. Not on the playground as a kid, not in middle school, not now.He shouldn’t be so upset—he picked the comic relief role, and he continues to play it despite everything going on. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to him that no one sees him as anything more. That no one sees his humanity and humiliation and helplessness.It’s easier to laugh than care, after all.“It means, what about me? I was upset, too, you know.” He glares at Bakugou. “I was really scared, too. When you were gone… I couldn’t sleep or eat or… I was so scared. And you—” Denki pauses, his breathing picking up with each word. He grasps desperately at his shirt, yanking it as far away from his neck as he can.No—he can’t start panicking again. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe evenly, but it doesn’t matter how much he begs; his emotions take control.“I was beating myself up over not helping them rescue you. But apparently I don’t get the luxury of being sad, right? I just have to put my thumbs up and embarrass myself so you all can get a good laugh in.”Bakugou has the decency to look guilty for a split second before his instincts kick in. “Get over it, Dunce Face. Not like it matters or anything. Sure, it wasn’t that nice, but it made everyone laugh, and that’s all that matters. Not like anyone got hurt or anything.” “I did!” Denki couldn’t help but yell, hands sparking and neck twitching so violently it cracks. “Short circuiting hurts, Bakugou! Do you know how much it sucks to listen to your entire class laugh at you while you’re having a seizure? Do you? No, of course not. Because my seizures are just so funny and make everything better for everyone!”There’s silence on Bakugou's end, which is… weird because he’s usually anything but silent.But then Denki processes everything he said, and his eyes fling open.Shit.Bakugou stares at him, mouth agape in something akin to horror. “You mean… when you go all stupid… you’re actually having seizures?” Bakugou finally says, taking a tentative step forward, to which Denki takes one back. “Shit,” Denki whispers, running a hand through his hair. “You weren’t—none of you were supposed—blrrr—to know! God!”“Dunc—Kaminari. I—”“Save it.” Denki backs up again, barely breathing—or maybe he’s breathing too much—at this point. “Just pretend I didn’t say anything. Then you can all go back to laughing at stupid fucking Kaminari tomorrow when I inevitably short circuit again.”Bakugou’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t give him a chance to say anything.No, Denki runs. He runs to his room and slams the door shut behind him. He practically collapses, landing on the floor on all fours as he attempts some of the breathing exercises they learned to help panicking civilians.It's too hot in his room.He can hear Iida talking to someone on the phone next door, hear the stupid buzz of electricity that constantly flows through him. It’s only a matter of time before he hears Bakugou pounding on his door, too, demanding either more answers or for him to stop complaining.Heh, it’ll probably be the latter. It isn’t like he breaks his bones when using his quirk or gets disabling stomach aches.Why did he ever think he can be a hero? He’s just a stupid liability on the field, just the stupid sidekick that gets in the way and leaves everyone else to pick up the pieces.A cool breeze drifts into his room from his open window, and suddenly Denki has a very stupid (go figure) idea.Bakugou is sure to come up—he’ll maybe even bring their friends or grab Aizawa or Iida on the way. If he doesn’t open the door, someone will kick it down. But… they don’t have to have the conversation if they can’t find him.Denki tosses his phone on his bed and rushes to the window, looking around outside to make sure no one is around. He jumps, using the others’ balconies as steps on his way down.Then, he runs again.He runs into the woods, far away from the people who betra—the people who use him for a good laugh.
(and that’s not fair—they don’t know it hurts, they don’t know how bad it is—but he’s still so mad)
(he’s so tired of being mad)
The woods will be kind to him.It can’t laugh at him, pity him, hurt him.And it sucks because does he really have the right to be upset when he’s left them in the dark all year?Denki’s head hurts as he hunkers down beside a patch of flowers—tsubakis, maybe? He plucks one from its bush and rubs the petals. They’re kinda rubbery, but still smooth to the touch. So he sits there, playing with the flower petals and humming to himself, doing everything he can to just forget for a little bit.The sky is dark, stars twinkling lightly, the crescent moon hiding behind trees when Denki decides to head back to the dorms. He’s been in the woods for hours, drawing in the dirt, climbing trees, trying to find as many different birds and bugs as he can, and reciting his favorite Shakespearean monologues to pass time.He’s so damn lucky he can find entertainment in anything.Now, he's cold and hungry, his hands are all scraped up from climbing trees, and he wants nothing more than to collapse on his bed and wallow in pity before he gets reprimanded by Iida or Aizawa for being out after curfew. Actually, he wants to shower first, then wallow.But, of course, the universe has other plans.After he struggles to climb back up to his balcony (as if he doesn’t feel bad enough about himself already), he slips while pushing into his room and tumbles onto the floor.“Ow,” he groans, rubbing his head.“Where the fuck were you?”Denki shrieks and throws the first thing he can find in the direction of the voice—a hat. He’s pretty sure he hits his target when he hears a disgruntled oof, and he goes to pick up another one when the voice finally registers.“Ba–Bakugou?” he asks hesitantly. Shit. If this really is Bakugou and not some cruel hallucination, then Denki is screwed. He knows from past experience that throwing things at Bakugou means getting a face-full of explosions.“Yeah, course it’s fucking me,” Bakugou grumbles.The fairy lights strung on his walls flicker on, and Denki whines, squinting at the sudden light.Yup—there’s Bakugou, sitting on his desk chair. His arms are crossed and eyes narrowed at Denki.Ugh, it’s too late for this.“Look. I’m just…” Denki trails off, rubbing his forehead once more. “Can we not do this now? I know you’re going to scold me or yell at me or whatever, but I’m not in the mood to be reminded of how useless I am, okay?”Bakugou bristles violently. “What? You think I waited in your shitty room all night just to yell at you?”Denki raises an unimpressed brow as if to say, really? “Ugh. I wouldn’t have done that if I was just going to yell at you.”“Then why’d you wait? It’s clearly past your bedtime, so I don’t know why you’d—”“I was worried about you, Sparky! God, don’t make me say it again!”Denki blinks. Then he blinks again. And a third time. “Huh?”“Is that really so hard to believe?” Bakugou practically spits, and in the now dim light of the room, Denki notices the pink tinting his cheeks.This has to be some kind of fever dream, right? There is no way Bakugou would ever admit to being worried about an extra like him. Kirishima? Definitely. Sero? They don’t get into trouble very often, so yeah. But him? The nuisance, the annoyance…“I mean…” Denki begins slowly, carefully, “yeah?”Bakugou’s face twitches for the briefest of seconds. “Jeez. That’s… we’ll need to talk about that later.”Denki really doesn’t want to talk about that later. He’d rather run away again, actually. But the only reason he was able to outrun an angry and (apparently) concerned Bakugou was because he caught him by surprise, he guesses. There’s no getting out of this now.“I made—” Bakugou cuts himself off, inhaling slowly. “I triggered a fucking seizure, pushed you out so everyone could laugh at you, and then did nothing while those extras took you to your new room and left you there alone.”“Well, when you put it like that,” Denki drawls.“Shit.”“Yeah.”They sit in an uncomfortable silence. In that time, he gets up, grabs the first aid kit in his room, and sits on his bed to begin cleaning his hands. The wet cloth stings, and the antibiotic elicits a quiet hiss out of him. None of his scrapes is bad enough to warrant a bandaid, so he closes the kit and slides it across his floor towards the closet.Bakugou stares at him while he works, his eyes narrowed in silent judgement.Denki doesn’t know what to say next—what is there for him to say? He may have a cripplingly low self-esteem, but he knows he isn’t the one who needs to apologize. His leg bounces up and down on the mattress and he wrings his hands as the tense atmosphere grows all the more suffocating.The ball is in Bakugou’s court now, but he figures Bakugou doesn’t know what to say either.Finally, Bakugou coughs, making eye contact with Denki. “Look. I’m… I’m sorry. You were right, earlier. It wasn’t fair to use your pain to make everyone else feel better.”Wow, that sounded physically painful for him.Denki’s torn. He wants to tell Bakugou that it’s okay, that he’s used to it. Because, in a way, he’s already forgiven Bakugou. Yeah, the apology was hard to get out, but he still apologized and recognized that he messed up. And he’s not one to drop his friends after a small mistake, he just needed some space—none of it was malicious, he was always going to forgive them.But Denki also wants to scream. He wants to yell and be mean because he’s tired. “You know… I thought U.A. would be different,” he murmurs, looking away. “I thought I wouldn’t have to deal with people making me short circuit for a quick laugh all the time.”Bakugou sucks in a breath.“You guys are my best friends but…” Denki trails off, squeezing his eyes shut. “That really hurt. I was so scared when I came to, but this time I didn’t know where I was or how I got on the floor—you guys left me on the floor. And I couldn’t hear anyone or anything, I didn’t know if I was safe… shit.”Tears sting his eyes, forcing him to blink rapidly. Denki swipes at his face. “I thought something bad happened. Coming back from short–circuiting is terrifying, Bakugou, every time. I never know where I am or what happened and everyone just laughs at me… I look funny, I guess.”“Why do you call your seizures that?” Bakugou asks suddenly.“What, short-circuiting?”“Yeah!”Denki shrugs, picking at loose strands of comforter. “I don’t know. People are usually more comfortable when I call it short-circuiting. Everyone gets all weird when I say they’re seizures. Plus,” he sighs, leaning back, “I wanted a fresh start at U.A. Which meant no one needed to know that I have epilepsy.”“That’s fucking stupid,” Bakugou hisses. “Don’t let stupid extras choose that shit for you because your disability makes then uncomfortable!” He frowns. “‘sides, none of us would’ve laughed if we knew they were seizures.”Denki scoffs. “Does it even matter?”“Huh?”“Does it even matter if people know?” Denki mutters, choosing his words carefully. “Is a medical condition really the only reason not to laugh at someone who is clearly uncomfortable? Even if I weren’t in pain or having seizures, I’m still vulnerable. I can’t defend myself, I can’t do anything. It’s like I’m trapped in my own body. I hate it—I hate it so much.”Sure, maybe he is a bit bitter, but he has every right to be! All his life he’s been treated like some kind of party trick because it’s easy to laugh at him. Because he likes things loudly and has too much energy, and for some reason, that’s funny.“Maybe the thumbs up worked better than I intended. Instead of assuring people I’m not seriously hurt, it made everyone think I was completely fine. My quirk is such a joke,” he laughs, rolling his shoulders. “Such a waste on someone like me.”Denki blinks a couple more times then glances up at Bakugou and recoils.Bakugou looks uncomfortable—more uncomfortable than Denki’s ever seen. He’s chewing on his bottom lip, face screwed up in a kind of ugly way.“No one thinks of you like that,” he says eventually. “It’s not a waste on you.”And isn’t that funny coming from the guy who regularly calls him an extra, a dunce, an idiot. Forgive him for having doubts.“It’s okay, you don’t have to lie to—“Do I sound like I’m fucking lying?” Bakugou spits and drags a hand down his face. He murmurs something under his breath, then some of the tension in his shoulders fade.“You’re…” He pauses like he needs to vomit before he can continue, “you’re important, okay? You can do things none of us can, and we need that. You’re good at all that… that social shit. Making people laugh, reading the room… you always know what someone needs. It’s annoying.”Bakugou’s lower lip juts out in a pout and he looks away, probably to hide his impending blush.Denki almost wants to tease the roundabout way Bakugou complimented him, but he can’t bring himself to do it.While emotions come easily to him, they’re foreign to Bakugou, and Denki’s been around him long enough to know that “annoying” means, “you always know what everyone needs before I do and I wish I could do that”.“Thank you,” Denki whispers. His reaction is so delayed he must look like a computer rebooting, but that’s the nicest thing Bakugou’s ever said to him.“Don’t thank me,” Bakugou says. “You’re right. It was shitty of us to make fun of you, medical condition or not. I don’t deserve a thank you for showing you basic human decency.”Something floods his body: relief? Closure? He isn’t sure. This kind of support, of humbled acceptance of their wrong doings is new.A wretched sob clogs his throat and he coughs and splutters until he can’t keep it back anymore.His lips part, and out falls every last drop of shame and humiliation he’s felt at U.A. this past year. Every failure, every suppressed reaction to a cruel joke… it all comes back.It starts slowly—a gargled gasp, a couple hiccups, some choking. As his control slips, his cries get louder, more raw.Through his blurred vision, he sees Bakugou recoil, eyes nervously darting around the room. After all they’ve been through together, this is the first time he’s cried in front of anyone. Maybe even cried at all. Almost everyone in class has cried at some point—over an injury, trauma, sadness, or even from a sad movie.But Denki doesn’t cry very often.It must be odd, watching him break down. And he must be smiling if the way his lips ache and twitch mean anything.It’s a little funny how he smiles even as he falls apart.
(funny, and a little sad)
“You left me on the floor,” he sobs, curling so tightly into himself that his tears find their way onto his knees. “Alone. On the—on the fucking floor!”He hiccups again, almost like a gust of laughter. He needs to laugh because if he doesn’t, then he has to accept that it’s just sad, that the people he loves and trusts more than anything did this to him.The bed dips and an arm hesitantly wraps around him, guiding him upright. It doesn’t leave; it lingers and Denki feels the warmth Bakugou always radiates. He leans into it, soaking in as much of it as he can as his breakdown tapers out.“You need to tell everyone.”Denki chokes again, shaking his head so forcefully he gets whiplash. “I can’t. It’s my job—I need to make people laugh and—“It’s not a fucking job,” Bakugou snaps. “It’s at the expense of your well-being. You’d want me to say something if it was me, right?”“That’s different…”“Fucking how?” Denki blinks the remaining sticky tears away, holding back a wince as his eyelashes peel off his face. “It’s you.”“Okay? And?”Bakugou sounds annoyed again, huffing under his breath.“You’re at the top of the class. You’re amazing and everyone loves you and…” Denki trails off, sucking in a breath. “I’m just the guy that miraculously made it into the hero course. I hear more than people think, I know what people say about me. I can’t control my quirk. I have the worst grades. I failed the practical exam. I can’t do anything amazing unless I short-circuit.“I chose to be this. It’s just not worth it, dude.”
I’m not worth it.
“Damn, with that attitude, you may as well just quit.”Denki stiffens, all his hopes and dreams glass in Bakugou’s palm, but he continues before he can say anything.“If you don’t have the drive to prove everyone wrong, then you don’t belong here. We’re all fighting for something, and if you’re this willing to give up over something like this, then you’ll be a shit hero, and you aren’t the hero I thought you were.” Hero; Bakugou thinks he’s a hero. “I don’t say shit I don’t mean. If I didn’t think you were capable, I wouldn’t waste my breath on you. I’m only gonna say this once, and if you repeat it to anyone, I will kick your ass so hard you won’t be able to sit for a month.”Bakugou pauses, closing his eyes to take a deep breath. When he opens them, it’s like they’re boring right into his soul. Denki leans closer, hypnotized by the intensity, the conviction.“Our class is like a puzzle, we’re all needed to be complete. But you aren’t just a piece; you’re the glue that holds this puzzle together. We can’t function without you. There’s this fucking… this energy you bring that no one else has. You make people happy or whatever. You make us feel loved.” Bakugou mumbles the last part, gesticulating so aggressively it looks like he has a vendetta against the air. “It’s gross and I hate it but, ugh, you’re important to us, dumbass—get it through your thick skull. You’ve carried us for so long, let us carry you or whatever.”For the first time in… yeesh, an embarrassingly long amount of time, Denki doesn’t feel inferior. He’s still not completely confident in himself or his abilities, but if Bakugou believes in him, then he deserves to hold his head a little higher.“Nice simile, bro,” Denki says, voice cracking halfway through.“Yeah yeah, you like similes,” Bakugou waves him off. “Listen up, Sparky. You’re telling the class tomorrow. If you can’t tell everyone at once, you’ll start with Aizawa because your dumbass probably conveniently forgot to tell him and he needs to know so he can adjust your training. Then you can start with the—ugh—squad. Then the class. They’ll probably feel so bad they’ll piss themselves.” Bakugou snorts and tilts his head back, and maybe it’s just the lighting, but it almost looks fond.“Then they’ll shit themselves trying to make it up to you. The self-righteous fucks.”Denki chuckles and shakes his head. “I don’t want their pity, I want their respect.”“I don’t speak for any of those extras, but I think they respect you more than they show. Hell, I respect you, and it takes a lot for me to respect someone, let alone admit it.”Hold up—record scratch. “You respect me?” Denki shrieks.Bakugou scowl lifts into an almost gentle frown. “Duh. I don’t let just anyone hang around me. ‘Sides, you’re a fucking powerhouse. Once you realize you’re capable of beating me, I know you will a couple times.” He takes a deep breath, like it’s physically hard to admit which… it probably is for him, setting his pride aside to be honest. “You know why I always win? Aside from the fact that I’m the fucking best, I believe in myself more than anyone else. I know what I’m capable of, and I don’t undermine myself. You’re powerful. Ignore the shit those extras and I said: you’re not an idiot. You’re quick on your feet, creative, and strong. The reason you and Pinky failed the practical exam is because you were against fucking Nezu—how the fuck is anyone supposed to win against him?”Each compliment is like a punch to the face. Bakugou just keeps dishing attack after attack after attack with an underlying side of, 'I will murder you if you disagree with me’. “And if people keep laughing at you, they can take it up with my fucking fist!” he finishes, pointing a finger in Denki’s face.“Wow, nice to know you actually care.”His deflection is poor at best, and he assumes Bakugou will gladly take the bait, but he doesn’t. Instead, he smiles, but not the ‘I’m gonna pulverize you and enjoy it’ kind of smile Denki sees during training or the self-righteous kind he gets when he’s victorious. It’s small, but it’s soft and kind.“Yeah, I do. But don’t go around telling people that or I’ll wear your entrails like a fucking necklace!”“Duly noted,” Denki deadpans. He scooches a little closer to Bakugou. “While I have you in a good mood, can I—”“Ugh! Fine—one hug, and make it quick!”Bakugou begrudgingly opens his arms and Denki launches himself into them, knocking the two of them backwards onto the bed.And as Bakugou holds him tightly, Denki can’t help but whisper, “Thank you. You’re a great friend, you know that?”“Obviously,” Bakugou huffs, shuffling around so he’s lying down with Denki snuggling into his side (he is milking this opportunity for all it’s worth because damn, Bakugou gives good hugs). “I’m the best at everything.”He squeezes Denki, a silent, ‘yeah, you’re a good friend, too’. Denki hums, his eyes slipping shut and energy draining as the exhaustion from the day hits him. A lot happened today, a lot he needs to unpack and think about. He needs to talk to his classmates, his teachers. He needs to confront them, too. Not to mention he still needs to process everything from the past few days, get adjusted to living in the dorms, and try to recognize and stand up for his own worth. Oh, and he definitely needs to shower in the morning.It’s daunting.But right now, he wants one thing and one thing only.“Stay with me tonight?”“I’m throwing you under the bus if we get in trouble,” Bakugou answers, but he sinks further into Denki’s mattress.“Sweet!” Denki wiggles out of his arm just enough so he can reach up and touch the closest string of fairy lights. He zaps it with his quirk, blanketing them in darkness. Then he pulls his comforter out from underneath Bakugou and haphazardly throws it over them.“Nice quirk control, Sparky,” Bakugou hums, fixing the comforter to his liking. “Surprised you didn’t blow anything up.”“Nope, that’s your job.” He slips back into Bakugou’s embrace and shoves his face in his chest. “You’re warm.”“Duh. Now go the fuck to sleep.” Bakugou pushes him off his chest and pulls an arm free, but he keeps the other wrapped securely around him.So Denki goes the fuck to sleep, wrapped around Bakugou like a koala, warm, respected, and loved.