Date: October 28, XXXX
Time: 6:46 p.m.
Location: Bakugo Household
The thin, rough ended slip of metal in his scarred hand slides perfectly into the lock, twisting with a 'click' as the door unlatches. The lights that had been visible through the tall windows now glare directly into his red eyes. It isn't quite nighttime yet in Musutafu, but with each passing week the dark blanket of night has begun creeping in earlier and earlier and has stretched further into the morning hours as if it's a monster swallowing the sunlight and digging its claws into the ground to avoid letting the light return.
But, it always does.
Somehow.
With a sigh, the blond male slips off his worn sneakers and adorns a pair of red house slippers instead. The sound of a knife beating against the wooden surface of a cutting board comes from the open kitchen as Bakugo enters the main living space. More noises begin to fill his ears as he strides further into familiar territory, grease heating up in the skillet, the hum of the oven, a splash of water from the faucet as his mother washes off her hands and switches tasks. Mitsuki glances up from where she begins adding chicken thighs to the heated skillet and smiles at her son who only looks back tiredly.
Her eyes drift back to the skillet as it sizzles and pops. "How are you, Katsuki? Anything new going on at UA?" The woman questions him without so much as another glance in his direction, dedicating her attention to the food in front of her.
Briefly, Bakugo only stares at her back, watching as she moves around the kitchen fluidly like she always has. For as long as he can remember, his mother has been an amazing cook and was the one who taught him everything he knows about moving around the kitchen. Not that he'd ever say any of that to her smug face. Though, the scene brings him back to the time he went over to his girlfriend's apartment before they were even dating and he watched her try to cook boxed mac and cheese. She burnt it, burnt herself, almost set the small kitchen on fire, and had to throw away the pan she was using cause she ruined it.
The badass woman who defeated villains every day and could fight better than anybody else, was 100% helpless the moment she stepped into any kind of kitchen. Her fighting style was like an intricate dance that only she knew, and as soon as you would think you've figured it out, she had won. Usually by smashing your face between her thighs and pinning you beneath her. Bakugo can say that much from his own experiences fighting her. So, it was always amusing to him that she couldn't figure out that you make mac and cheese with a pot and not a pan.
Blinking himself back to the present, Bakugo grunts out a quiet, "Everything's fine," in response to his mother's questions and ends the conversation there. He steps into the kitchen through the arch, eyes catching on the stupid, ceramic plate he made when he was about six years old. The old hag still hasn't thrown it out despite his constant complaints. At the very least she could put it in a box, never to see the light of day again.
Sighing through his nose, Bakugo gets to work, helping his mother with the final dinner preparations while she finishes the chicken. Other than sizzling grease and clammer of plates against one another, the pair of lookalikes fall into total silence. Mother and son operate in tandem with each other while waiting for Masaru to get home from work so they can set the table and eat. Though, while the space around them is silent, roaring thoughts fill both of their heads as they work, not having a distraction to keep their minds at peace. The younger struggles with not having words to say out loud, while the older is not sure how to say what's on her mind.
Mitsuki clears her throat, taking the last chicken thigh off the skillet and the sounds of grease disappear along with the heat. She turns to face her son's back who doesn't even flinch at the sensation of her heavy gaze weighing on him and him alone. She opens her mouth to speak, lightly chapped lips parting before closing again as she thinks over her words again. Neither of them are good at communicating with each other, it almost always ends in a shouting match but that's not what Mitsuki wants right now.
"Katsuki," She calls, successfully gaining the attention of the tired, crimson eyed boy, "Has there been any news on (Y/n)? I thought maybe they would tell you things they wouldn't release to the public." As her voice trails off, Katsuki's gaze shifts from her to the counter in front of him as his fists drop to clench against his sides. She doesn't need to hear his response, his actions speak loud enough, there hasn't been any updates in the case. With a sigh, the woman strides toward her son and places a single hand against his shoulder that tightens in response to the contact.
"Kat-"
"I'm home."
The duo pulls apart at the sound of Masaru's voice, the brown haired male coming through the entryway with a directed smile at his wife and taking a double-take at his son. He is quick to recover, sending a soft smile at Katsuki as well. He greets the blond boy who nods in response and dismisses himself to quickly change before sitting down for dinner. Comment now forgotten, Mistuki is quick to command her son to set the table as she loads food onto the plates.
Dinner goes by much differently than usual with the two blonds not at each others' throats and Masaru not begging them to calm down. Instead, Mitsuki and Masaru carry the lone conversation, talking between themselves about work and the new designs he's working on in preparation for the winter months ahead. Katsuki only listens in silence, picking at his food and taking bites every once in awhile.
None of them spare a glance toward the empty chair set between Mitsuki and Katsuki, ignoring its presence and the absence of the (h/c) haired girl who usually sits there, a smile on her face as she watches her boyfriend and his mother argue. It had become expected of you to accompany Katsuki to all of his dinners with his family ever since the two of you told his parents about your relationship. But now, the chair is empty for obvious reasons that the family decides not to dive into. At least, not while they are trying to enjoy their food.
The rest of the meal passes by with worried glances shared between the couple as Katsuki barely eats half of the food on his plate. As a hero in training and still growing boy, he should be eating a lot more than half a chicken thigh and a handful of green beans. But, the couple knows bringing it up would only start an argument that none of them want to deal with right now.
Standing silently from the table and padding over to the kitchen in his slippers, Katsuki twists the knob on the faucet and water floods into the sink. He leaves his hand underneath the stream, waiting as it turns from cold to cool to warm to hot and then stopping the drain so the basin fills. Mitsuki and Masaru watch the process in silence as their son habitually starts on the dishes after dinner like he used to when he lived here. The dishes from dinner are deposited into the soapy water and he begins to scrub at them a tad too aggressively, completely lost in thought and deaf to the world.
Bakugo's mind begins to reel like it does every night once he starts to tire. Usually, this would be the point where he would retire to his cold bed, grab your dumb dinosaur plushie, and fall asleep listening to your music with those stupid alien earbuds. But, he doesn't have that option right now, his parents are staring at him like his dog died and they don't know how to comfort him. And, it's honestly starting to piss him off how everyone is always so worried about him. He's eighteen for goodness sakes and he can take care of himself just fine, even if he's upset and feels lost right now.
Glancing up and seeing his parents' eyes trained on him, the blond sighs in defeat. "Just spit it out already," He grumbles at the pair, who share a look between each other before opening their mouths to speak.
"Are you okay, brat?"
"We're just worried about you with everything going on, and we noticed you didn't eat much for dinner."
Their annoying nagging earns the pair a glare from Katsuki, which is the first sign of his usual self that he's shown all night. "I'm fine," He tells them, setting another plate in the dry part of the sink so can he rinse it later, "Just not hungry."
"But, I'm sure you'll be hungry once (Y/n) gets back, right? The only reason you're not eating is because you're worried. You need to take care of yourself, Katsuki, you know better," Mitsuki scolds, getting a little fired up by her son's indifference towards his health, "And, it looks like you haven't been sleeping either. What's with those dark bags under your eyes?"
The blond male sighs deeply through his nose and closes his eyes in annoyance, feeling tired and irritated and worried and fucking done with everything all at the same time. His eye twitches while his head throbs as he continues to glare at his parents, and Masaru, noticing the tension is rising, tries to step in.
"You can't be mad at us for worrying, we are your parents after all. But, we know you need space to deal with all of this," Masaru cuts in, placing his hands up in surrender and sending a pointed look at his wife. She sighs out a heavy breath full of anxiety and exhaustion, letting her shoulders slump as she leans back in her chair.
"We want her back too, kiddo."
Pinching his brows, Katsuki goes back to washing the dishes without another word. Because he knows they're right and everything they say is the truth, but getting out of bed is hard when in feels like you have so little to get up for. Of course he wants to be a hero and needs to go to class and training to do that. But, there's always the voice in his head that just says "later".
Later.
Later.
Later.
If Bakugo wanted to, he could skip class and make up the work later. He's not an idiot like the weirdos in his friend group. And, he could always go train by himself at the gym later instead of with Class 3-A. Not that UA would let it slide for long, but the thought is so tempting to just lay in bed and drown himself in memories instead of constantly being reminded of his situation by the pitying looks he gets and his classmates' constant nagging. It's hard. It's hard for everyone. Katsuki knows that, but he just wants to go to sleep and wake up with your dumb face pressed against his chest and your hair in a tangled halo around your head that he can brush out with his fingers before his alarm goes off.
Bakugo feels his feet grow heavy at the thought of going back to the UA Height's Alliance where his bed will be cold and empty. There are too many memories in the room you shared over the last two years, of late night conversations, pillow fights (always started by you), patching up your wounds, and cuddling in bed. He doesn't want to go back, even though he should.
Even if it's only for one night, he wants to be free from the memories.
Glancing at his parents who whisper to each over the table, still seated as they discuss something under their breaths, Bakugo decides this could be his escape for one night. He internally readies himself to ask something of them, not being one to like asking favors from others. He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again before pressing his lips together and turning away from his parents who don't take notice of his internal struggle. He grabs onto the now clean dishes, stacking them on the drying rack so he doesn't have to make eye contact as he talks.
"I have been sleeping," Bakugo says, instantly capturing the attention of the adults seated at the table, "I just never feel rested there...can I...stay here tonight?"
Not seeing the smile that lights Mitsuki's face, the blond sets the rest of the dishes to dry on the metal rack as droplets of water glitter and slide down the ceramic surface. His shoulder tense with the seconds of silence and slowly, he lifts his gaze to meet their smirking faces.
"Of course, you brat. Just make sure to tell UA you're staying here so they don't freak out."
Mitsuki rises from her chair and scoots it neatly under the table before rounding the bar to the kitchen. She forcefully grabs onto Katsuki's face and kisses the side of his forehead despite his protests and struggling before smacking him on the back of the head. "Be sure to head back early so you don't miss class," She warns him, leaving and disappearing upstairs to the master bedroom a moment later. Masaru follows soon after, patting Katsuki on the shoulder and heading up the stairs with a few parting words.
Left alone to his thoughts, the blond cleans up the last of the mess from dinner and begins to turn off all the lights. In moments, he's engulfed in darkness, no sunshine outside the windows to provide light to guide him. Through instincts and memory alone he makes his way up the stairs and to his old room, flicking the light-switch with a calloused finger and being greeted by the familiar scene in front of him. His bed with black sheets pressed against the wall, shelves full of All Might figurines, a body-length mirror, a couple of handmade grenades, a black couch on the far side of the room facing a TV hooked to the wall and underneath are shelves of old videogames he no longer plays
A dark green blanket is draped over the back of the couch and a couple of orange throw pillows rest on it. The theme of the room matches his hero costume which reminds him of the time you were in here after the UA internships. You said the room was very...him. Whatever the hell that means.
With a sigh, Bakugo throws himself face first onto the bed and lays surrounded by the familiar scent engrained in the fibers of the sheets. It isn't your's, not like in his dorm room where he's increasingly aware every night that the sensation of your presence is disappearing. In a way, this is much more calming to be surrounded only by himself and his lonesome memories in this room.
Just as Katsuki's muscles start to relax despite still being in his jeans and the glaring light on, his phone vibrates in his pocket, causing him to groan in defeat and roll over. Once he's no longer suffocating himself in the black sheets, placing his feet on the ground and stretching his arms above his head, Bakugo pulls out his phone to check who would be messaging him at this hour.
Taking the opportunity, he strides towards his old dresser and digs around for a pair of pajamas with one hand while typing in his password with the other. He's not even a little surprised when Shitty Hair's contact has a blue dot next to it and a typing bubble pops up again as his friend types another message. Clicking on the chat, Bakugo decides it'd be a little too rude to ignore the messages.
•••
ShittyHair
U good Bakubro?
ShittyHair
Youre usually back from your
parents place by now
ShittyHair
just checking in dude
💥Bakubro💥
I'm fine
💥Bakubro💥
I'm spending the night here but
I'll be back for class tomorrow
ShittyHair
Alright dude!!
ShittyHair
Just wanted to make sure you're
okay 😁
ShittyHair
luv u bro
only a little homo ♥️
💥Bakubro💥
shut up 🖕🏻🖕🏻
•••
Turning off his phone with a slightly amused smirk, Bakugo changes into the pajamas he picked out which end up fitting a little too snuggly considering they're only two years old. He really has grown in the last couple of years between natural growth and training. But, it doesn't matter, the clothes will work for tonight. The light-switch is flicked once again and the room is plunged into darkness as he makes his way to the bed and throws himself on it once again.
Maybe, just maybe, he'll get to rest easy tonight.
Just for one night.
•••••
Date: October 28, XXXX
Time: 10:14 p.m.
Location: Unknown
The crimson numbers are back, blinking the late hour in the same shade as blood before your tired eyes.
You know you shouldn't be awake yet.
You're never up this early.
Recently, more and more, when you wake up your mind has been conscious enough to take note of the times between your naps.
This is the earliest you've ever woken up.
But, no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to move any of your limbs or remember where you are.
Why have you been napping so much?
Are you hurt?
In the hospital?
Or, is someone doing this to you?
Why are you being drugged?
You know you are.
The sweet scent that fills the clear mask tightly strapped over your mouth is a dead giveaway, but you can't move enough to remove it.
Lights glare against your eyes, tempting you to shut them and sleep again.
But, ever so slightly, you manage to slowly twist your neck around to take in the room around you.
Your vision is still blurred but everything is white.
Maybe you are in the hospital.
But, what the hell did you do to end up in this condition?
Not being able to move, constant drugs in your system, never being able to stay awake for more than a few minutes...
And, everything is ringing.
Your ears try and fail to focus on anything that might be a giveaway of what the hell is going on, but nothing.
It just rings.
And, rings.
And, rings.
Mind foggy, your thoughts slip and suddenly you are staring back at the clock.
Which, you just now notice, rests over a door.
It doesn't look like the usual doors you'd see in a hospital.
More like a high security lab.
Weird.
Very weird.
Too weird.
But, your brain can't seem to comprehend this fact in its entirety.
You're so fucking tired.
Your brain wants to take another nap but at the same time you want to stay awake.
If someone comes in they could explain everything to you.
Maybe you are in a hospital and this is just a weird one.
Your dad should come through the door any minute to hold your hand and explain what happened.
.
.
.
No.
.
.
.
That's not right.
.
.
.
Your dad is gone.
Where's Toshinori?
Why are you so fucking tired?
Fuck, you just want to sleep.
The clock blinks and blinks and blinks and blinks and blinks until you swear you're losing your mind.
You've never been awake this long.
Maybe this is why you sleep, so you won't go insane.
You feel like going crazy watching the clock.
Could it move any slower?
Fuck this shit.
And just then, as if a lock slid into place, the world opens up and the ringing in your head disappears.
Total silence greets you.
It's so much easier to think.
But, the sound of boots against tiles draws your eyes back to the door underneath the clock.
Two people.
Navy blue hair.
Dark skin.
Sadistic eyes.
Fuck-