The Unfeasible Series

flashback: bakugo

The teenager sat in class, excited to be back on UA campus but desired to not show his classmates and teachers such weaknesses. The blonde teen’s kidnapping was still ever prominent and fresh on his mind. He could still feel the cold restraints burning his skin and rubbing him raw. His hands twitched as fire ripped through his bloodstream. He felt needles poking his skin and laughter faintly echoing around the walls. Creepy, maniacal laughter that sounded so close yet so far. He felt hands grappling at his hair and clothes, nails digging into his arms and bruises beginning to form on his legs. 

A faint whisper whipped at his ears, mocking his drugged, half-lucid state. “What..doing?” 

“--ad…are…doing?”

Bakugo felt nauseous. Bile rose up his throat, yet he didn’t have enough energy to move, much less cough. The metal chair he was bound to was digging into his limp form. His muscles ached with previous attempts of escapes that remained futile in the end. 

“...why…this…why doing…?” 

Bakugo fought to open his eyes, he didn’t ever remember closing them. But he forced his heavy eyelids open, the blurs of light sending sharp pains through them. The world’s colors were spinning, his stomach feeling so empty, so full. So sick and angry. In an attempt to wet his lips to feel less dry, he licked them. His tongue sticks to his lips, equally as parched as the rest of his dehydrated body. He can’t remember how long he had been there, nor how long he had been captive. When every moment was blurred together, time never sped or slowed, only molded itself into a confusing abyss of a colorful void. 

“Stop! You…stop…him!...Dad, you…to…”

And suddenly the whisper seemed a lot more frantic, a lot closer. Familiar even. 

Bakugo felt his head lull to the side, the world spinning even faster around him. His eyes were slowly unglazing, allowing him to fully see the world around him. And although there was nothing much but walls, and he was in a bland white room, he saw a couple figures looming in the corner, swaying pensively. He felt his lips tug upwards as he noticed he wasn’t alone. And while fear struck deep into his core at being in the presence of unknown people, he also felt oddly at ease. 

“Let him…you’re hurting…my…” The voice became frantic. And suddenly everything became mildly clearer. 

Bakugo saw the smaller figure coming towards him at a fast pace, and while he would usually dodge or begin fighting back, his body was fighting against him and simply sat heavily on the chair. He felt tears sting his eyes as green blotches entered his vision. 

Suddenly the familiar face of someone who had been lost for a lot longer than physically gone, appeared in front of Bakugo. He felt his dry lips crack as he opened his mouth. Words would have tipped over his tongue if not for the bile clogging his airways. He could barely even gasp for breath as he looked into the frantic gaze of his childhood friend. Eyes connected, unsaid words washing through them at the speed of light. Shaky hands reached forward to gently cradle Bakugo’s face in comfort. “I don’t…want…hurt, Kacchan.” He sobbed. Fat tears rolled off of his gaunt cheeks. Bakugo felt as if he was seeing a ghost, and yet he desired nothing more than the world to stop turning and mocking him. He wanted nothing more than to be completely lucid and to truly comprehend the reality of Izuku Midoriya being alive. Being there, right in front of him. 

And just when the soft hands of Izuku reached out to comfort Bakugou, a larger one brutally intercepted him. A loud crunch ricocheted off the walls, making Izuku sob impossibly harder. The second figure had snatched his hand so hard that he broke the teen’s wrist. “Stop, Little One.” The deep voice was clear and precise. And yet his tone was so firm with hidden anger, that Midoriya visibly recoiled. The voice promised nothing but a punishment. 

And yet, somehow Bakugo couldn’t take his eyes off Midoriya, even as he was pulled away from him and towards the much larger figure. “Just…don’t hurt him…more…” He said, using his free hand to attempt and scrape the tears off his cheeks. 

“You know he won’t remember anything when he wakes up, Little One.” The man says, regripping Midoriya around the shoulders instead of pressing his fingers further into the teen’s broken arm. “He won’t even remember you were ever gone.” 

Bakugo’s vision began flooding with colors again, watching as the figures turned fuzzy and all sounds transformed into beeps and whispers. Laughter and soft voices remained prominent even as his ears rang. He attempted to lick his dry lips once again before his mind became hazy once more, body slowly gave into fatigue.