Running on empty:

Chapter two:

Bakugou's eyes flicked between the ingredients,
the pan heating on the stove, and the two idiots at his side.
He tried to ignore the small surge of happiness that tickled at his chest, pretending it didn't exist.
Cooking had always calmed him, but now, with friends nearby,
it was almost... better.
Almost like being grounded in a way that nothing else in the last week had managed.

He flipped the first pancake with a practiced flick of his wrist,
then immediately noticed how close Kaminari was standing near the microwave on the counter behind him.
" Watch it, Sparky!" He barked at Kaminari,
though his tone was lighter, sharper than angry.
Kaminari and electronics had quite the potential for starting fires if the Electric blonde wasn't paying attention to what he was doing.

Kirishima leaned against the counter, arms crossed but smiling.
"You're really in your element here, It's... nice to see."

Bakugou rolled his eyes, trying to hide the small grin threatening
to break through.
"Don't get used to it, redhead. I'm cooking, not showing off."

By the time two hours had passed, the kitchen smelled like heaven.
Batter bowls emptied, pancakes stacked high, and the stove bore the evidence of Bakugou's furious, precise rhythm.
Enough pancakes to feed all of Class 1-A.

And as he surveyed the mountain of breakfast, Bakugou couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride.
Not heroic pride, not kidnapping-survivor pride, just... Bakugou pride.

Bakugou and Kirishima had placed all the pancakes on the tables in the common area, except for two plates they'd set aside.

Now, carrying their plates, they headed back to Bakugou's dorm. Kirishima's plate held four perfect, fluffy pancakes,
while Bakugou's had only one.

They settled onto Bakugou's bed,
the familiar space offering a sense of normalcy.
Hundreds of times before, they had been here, studying together,
gaming together, just existing together.

"You know," Kirishima said, taking a bite of his pancake,
"Kaminari's right. You are easily the best cook in the dorms."

Kirishima took another bite of his pancake as Bakugou looked at his own as if it had personally insulted him by existing.

"You could be a professional chef if you wanted to, BakuBro. You're amazing-"

"I'm going to be a hero," Bakugou interrupted, voice sharp.

"Yeah, of course, but-"

"I'm going to be a hero, shitty hair. Nothing's changing that.
Not even getting kidnapped by the League of freaks."

Kirishima frowned.
His tone was soft, but the worry behind it was obvious.
Bakugou wasn't just dismissing the praise ,
He was convincing himself more than anyone else.

"I know, you're going to be a pro, BakuBro. I wasn't saying you weren't," Kirishima rushed to clarify.
"You know some pro heroes have side gigs.
like Present Mic has his podcast, or Best Jeanist has a fashion brand.
I just meant... you could do side work as a chef too."

Bakugou grunted, eyes fixed on his single pancake.

"...Right."

Kirishima sighed quietly, not wanting to push.
He knew Bakugou's pride ran deep, and right now wasn't the time to try to force his friend to let him help fight the demons in his mind.

The conversation died down, but it wasn't awkward.
They'd always been content just existing in the same space, together.

Kirishima noticed that by the time he was finishing the last of his pancakes, Bakugou was still staring at his plate,
his expression tense, some kind of internal struggle written all over his face.

"Hey... you know you have to eat that at some point, right?"
Kirishima finally said.

"Yes... but—I, I don't know," Bakugou admitted, voice tight.

"Can't?" Kirishima asked softly.

"Yeah... they didn't. I didn't have food for those two weeks.
It's like my brain is screaming at me that the freaking act of eating is... evil, foreign... even though I've been doing it my whole life."

Bakugou had finally managed to put into words what had been holding him back, and he seemed almost shocked by his own confession.

Kirishima struggled to respond.
He knew Bakugou was trying,
and he also knew he had to eat at some point.
It was concerning, but he forced himself to stay calm,
he couldn't let Bakugou see how worried he was.

"Just... eat half of it? Please? For me?" Kirishima asked,
not caring that he sounded like a dumb child begging for something.

Bakugou hesitated, staring at the pancake,
his fingers tense around the fork.
Then, slowly, he managed to cut a piece and take a bite,
trying to ignore the scream in his head: Bad. Bad. Bad.

Kirishima's chest tightened with relief and pride as he watched Bakugou finish half the pancake.

"Thank you," Kirishima said quietly,
a genuine smile breaking across his face.

Bakugou simply muttered a quiet, "...yeah," not looking up,
but the small movement of his shoulders showed Kirishima he'd
heard him.

Kirishima knew he wasn't equipped to help Bakugou the way he needed. His own struggles with depression had taught him that sometimes, seeking adult help was necessary, no matter how much you wanted to fix things on your own.

He realized he would have to go to Aizawa about
Bakugou's struggle eventually.
But he also knew that Bakugou would hate him for it.
He wanted to spend this weekend with his friend.
just the two of them, before risking destroying their bond.

Because Kirishima would rather have an alive Bakugou who hated him than... the alternative.