FIC - "Waiting"

Katsuki-centric | canonverse | implied BKDKBK | Katsuki + Class A friendships

Set during the vigilante arc, Katsuki pines and unwillingly (and mostly wordlessly) bonds with his classmates through their shared misery.

==

WAITING

Katsuki’s first emotion was rage. It came easiest to him, anger never more than a spark away from igniting. That nerd thought he could run away with nothing but a letter as explanation? Katsuki would kill him.

Then, to his horror, the second emotion was fear. Fear for what that dumb shit would do without anyone to temper him, or at least without anyone to watch his back. His fingers tightened around the letter he’d found shoved beneath his door some time during the night. The paper darkened around his heated fingers, scorch marks blotting out words that he didn’t care to read again.

The next time Izuku wanted to say those things to him, it would be in person, and not through a letter like a goddamn coward.

Flinging open his door, he stalked down the hallway to the stairs. He was one of the first awake, so the dorms were quiet, the sounds of him bounding down two levels echoing off the walls. He winced when it made his wounds ache. He’d only been discharged the day before with strict instructions to take it easy, but he knew he should have stayed at the hospital. Knew he should have kept an eye on him.

Izuku’s door was unlocked. Even knowing what he would find, he still wanted to blow up the nerd shrine. He could tell immediately that Izuku hadn’t returned, except maybe to gather some of his things. His battered yellow backpack was missing, and his dresser drawers had been left ajar. But if that idiot had intended to cut ties with UA, he wouldn’t have come back and risked getting caught.

Which meant someone else had come in his place.

As familiar as he was with rage, he’d never felt it like this before. Biting hard enough on the inside of his cheek to taste blood, he yanked his phone from his pocket and dialed All Might. Predictably, he didn’t pick up. He typed out a furious text and then called Best Jeanist. He, too, didn’t answer. In fact, it went straight to a recorded message that said to contact the Genius Office and book an appointment via their automated system. Katsuki was pretty sure that was a new thing.

“Fuck!” he hissed as he shot off an angry text to him as well.

“Bakugo.”

Katsuki turned to see Todoroki approach, mismatched eyes narrowed in a daze. In his hand was a slip of paper, familiar handwriting just visible between his clenched fingers. He must have come to check the nerd’s room as well, for wont of anything actually useful to do.

Izuku had left Todoroki a letter, too. Another emotion welled inside him, ugly and twisted and bitter.

+++

Apparently, Izuku had left a letter for everyone. Not only that, but he confessed the truth of One For All. Fucking useless idiot.

Even though the school year had ended, all school related activities were put on pause, including graduation. Most of the student body spent their time volunteering to help with the continual influx of people seeking shelter.

Katsuki didn’t bother with that. It pissed him off whenever he heard someone whining about how heroes had failed them when there were still heroes out there risking their lives to protect them for no other reason than because if they didn’t, then no one would. Heroes like that damned Deku who would willingly rip himself apart if it meant saving even one person.

Class 1-A had agreed on a plan, but they had to get the principal on board. So until then, they were trapped in a limbo of waiting and training and worrying.

Katsuki had taken to brooding in the common area, the sound of his classmates white noise to his jumbled thoughts. He saw someone approach in his peripheral vision, but didn’t acknowledge him until Todoroki sat beside him on the sofa.

“Do I fucking look like I want company, Half-and-Half?” he said without looking at him.

“If you wanted to be alone, you would have gone to your room,” Todoroki pointed out, and seriously, fuck him for calling Katsuki out like that. Didn’t mean he wanted to talk to anyone though. “I’m angry, too, you know.”

“You want a cookie for that? Go bother Sato then.”

“I don’t want a cookie, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

“For fuck’s sake—”

“I’m still learning about how friendships work, but… I know that this isn’t right. Midoriya—”

“I’m not your fucking therapist.” Katsuki had to dig his nails into his palms to keep from exploding the sofa cushion underneath the other boy.

“Of course you’re not. My therapist is a woman. And she would tell you that’s it’s okay to admit he hurt you,” Todoroki continued because he was a stubborn asshole when it suited him. “You’re not the only one.”

Katsuki spit out each word with as much venom as he could muster. “Fuck. You. You don’t know shit about how I feel.”

“I know you’re hurting the most out of everyone. I won’t pretend to understand the history between you two, but it’s a little late to keep pretending you hate him, Bakugo. Everyone can see how you’ve barely been sleeping or eating. We’re worried.”

Who the fuck was ‘we,’ and who else would Katsuki have to blast for suggesting he couldn’t handle Izuku’s absence? He was the one who’d demanded they go after him. He knew Izuku and All Might better than anyone else here. He knew what they would be up against when they found them.

Leaning down to rest his elbows on his knees, Todoroki said softly, “It’s not a good feeling… knowing your friend sees you as a weakness.”

A burning sensation began at the back of his eyes, but like hell was he going to shed a single damn tear over this. He wasn’t like Izuku, breaking down at every emotion that was stronger than a sneeze. Besides, Izuku wasn’t even his friend.

He didn’t know what they were to each other, but ‘friend’ felt like such an inadequate word to encompass everything. Izuku wasn’t his friend, but he was… something. Something important. Whatever that meant could be figured out after they got him back.

+++

Katsuki couldn’t sleep. That seemed to be his new normal lately. Sometimes that meant he got ahead on subjects they would be studying in second year. Sometimes he drifted down to the courtyard to continue training until he collapsed from exhaustion.

Sometimes he found his way to Izuku’s empty room, occasionally running into another restless classmate—Todoroki, Uraraka, Iida, Aoyama, Asui. They haunted the hallway outside his room, all of them caught within the vortex of Izuku’s absence, but Katsuki had no illusions about being its most frequent visitor. At least the others had the decency—or self-preservation—to not mention it.

But most nights, he just lay in bed scrolling through news feeds, searching for any mention of green lightning or mysterious fog or black tendrils. Something, anything, to indicate where he might be. That he was alive.

All Might, Best Jeanist, and Izuku all had about a hundred angry texts from him each, and none of them had been read. All Might would tell him if anything serious had happened to Izuku, wouldn’t he? Katsuki wasn’t sure, and the uncertainly, the not knowing, was killing him.

One night, Katsuki had worked up the courage to call Auntie Inko. But that had only resulted in the poor woman sobbing over her selfishly selfless son while Katsuki quietly listened, his cheeks wet and his heart shattering.

Tonight, he stood at his balcony, taking in the quiet and the warm air. But his thoughts were far away, and his fist gripped the strap of a bag he’d packed one night in a fit of impatient rage.

He hadn’t unpacked it, because the urge was still there. If he was being honest with himself, the urge had been there from the moment he read that damn letter. Every part of him wanted to leave and find that little shit himself. And then… he didn’t know. Force him back? Join him on his little crusade? Tell him what a dumbass he was? Fall on his fucking knees and beg his forgiveness?

But running off without permission, alone, and abandoning his place here at UA would make him a hypocrite. He’d told Izuku not to try and win on his own. Katsuki fucking hated hypocrites.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Deku. Just tell me that you’re okay. Except, of course, Izuku wasn’t okay. He wouldn’t have taken off to god knows where fighting god knows who if he was okay. Was he taking care of himself? Was he giving himself time to eat and sleep and rest?

Katsuki knew the answers, he just didn’t want to dwell on them or he’d get ragingly pissed again.

There was a short knock at his door, but Katsuki had left it ajar so he dropped the bag and turned to see who was bothering him this time. He was unsurprised to find Todoroki and Kirishima darkening his door frame.

The half-and-half bastard was like a lost puppy without Izuku to trail after, and it was annoying as fuck. Without his permission, the two invited themselves inside, and Katsuki was too damn tired to kick them out.

“Hey Bakugo,” Kirishima said, his smile tentative, because unlike Todoroki, he possessed some tact. “What’s up?”

“Get that stupid look off your face,” Katsuki snapped. Kirishima and some of the others had begun casting him concerned glances, usually when they thought he didn’t notice, but Katsuki fucking noticed everything. Besides, they weren’t exactly subtle about it.

“We couldn’t sleep,” Todoroki said, stating the obvious in that quiet, sedate voice he used with everyone except Endeavor. The two settled on the floor, Todoroki sitting crosslegged while Kirishima leaned against the side of the bed, legs sprawled and knees raised.

Resigned, Katsuki shut his balcony door and dropped onto the mattress, hands pillowing the back of his head. “So you clowns decided to make that my problem?”

“Pretty much,” Kirishima said with a shrug. Then, expression sobering, he added, “I’m exhausted from all the training we’ve been getting in, but my brain won’t be quiet long enough for me to actually sleep.”

“Me too,” Todoroki admitted.

The silence that followed was awkward, because all three of them knew what each was thinking. With a huff of irritation, Katsuki said, “Just fucking say what you want.”

With a sheepish smile, Kirishima said, “I just don’t get why Midoriya felt like he needed to take this on all by himself, you know?”

Because he’s a self-sacrificing nerd who doesn’t take himself into account, Katsuki thought, glaring up at his ceiling.

“I get that he feels like he’s got a responsibility what with his quirk and all,” Kirishima continued, “but… he knows we would go after him. He has to. It’s what he would’ve done for us.”

Doesn’t matter, because he doesn’t take into account the feelings of those he leaves behind either. His chest ached at the thought. Katsuki hadn’t realized just how intertwined he was with Izuku until the nerd was no longer there. Ever since their fight at Ground Beta, Katsuki had been slowly, painstakingly untangling how he felt for the other boy. It figured that right at the cusp of Katsuki’s long coming realizations, the idiot decided to fuck off and disappear.

After a beat, Katsuki transferred his glare to Todoroki. He didn’t like how the boy was looking at him, like he knew what Katsuki was thinking. The bastard didn’t know. Because Katsuki wasn’t the same as him. Izuku didn’t mean the same thing to them, but more importantly, they didn’t mean the same thing to Izuku.

For one, Todoroki was actually Izuku’s friend. He’d only ever known the version of Izuku with One For All. He didn’t know the Izuku who’d been quirkless and powerless and weak and yet still braver and more selfless than anyone in his position had a right to be. Katsuki knew that he didn’t deserve to stand at Izuku’s side, but for some reason that he wasn’t going to question, the nerd still wanted him there. Or at least he had. Fucker.

The point was that Katsuki still meant something to him, even if he didn’t know what that was. Again, all he knew was that it was something. Maybe even something important. Katsuki was willing to fight to find out.

“Bakugo, what did Midoriya say to you in your letter?” Todoroki asked. “Yours was different, right?”

“Eh?” Kirishima straightened off the side of the bed, turning to look at Katsuki. “You never said anything about that.”

“Tch. Because it’s none of your business.” Then to Todoroki, he asked, “How’d you know that? Deku’s stalking habits rub off on you?” He’d torn up that stupid letter when he, Todoroki, and Tokoyami had called a class meeting to discuss what to do.

“It was just a guess. But it seems I was right.”

“You’re more of a devious asshole than you let on,” Katsuki said flatly.

“It makes sense though,” Kirishima said, head tilted thoughtfully. “You’ve known him the longest. And when it was you missing, he took it harder than anyone else.”

That was news to Katsuki. Ignoring the flutter in his gut, he said, “Shut up, Shitty Hair. That moron thinks I’d be satisfied with a letter? I’m not a fucking extra in whatever tragedy he thinks he’s starring in. He can say whatever he wants to my face. I got shit I need to say to him too.”

“I just want him to know we’re here for him,” Todoroki said, his discomfort made apparent only by his downcast eyes.

Except for when he was angry, the guy could be a little hard to read but only because he was emotionally inept. It wasn’t his fault he had the social skills of a four-year-old, but before Izuku, he’d been stuck so far up his own ass that he hadn’t been able to see anything aside from his own deluded ambitions. Fuck, that sounded too familiar for comfort.

“Yeah,” Kirishima said morosely. “Finding him isn’t going to be easy though. Catching him will be even tougher.”

“We can practice more strategies tomorrow,” Todoroki said.

Katsuki wanted so badly to stay angry with Izuku. But the truth was that he was mostly angry with himself. He knew what Izuku was like. He’d seen it play out time and time again before Izuku ever met All Might, and it only got worse after he received OFA. And yet, Katsuki hadn’t prepared for this. It was all he could do just to keep up with the nerd. He should’ve been strong enough to stay at Izuku’s side. But he was beginning to understand that he’d never been strong enough to claim that spot.

It was pathetic. He was pathetic for… for feeling abandoned. There, he fucking admitted it. He was just as bad as that lost puppy peppermint bastard.

“Are you guys having a slumber party and didn’t invite me?!” Kaminari appeared in the doorway, blonde hair sticking up on one side. He squinted and blinked rapidly, like he was still trying to wake up.

Heaving a sigh, Katsuki barked, “Okay, everyone out. Get the fuck out!”

+++

Katsuki wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was just as attentive to the quirks and fighting styles of his classmates as Izuku was. He just wasn’t a nerd who had to write it all down. He kept that shit to himself.

If there was anyone in 1-A besides Izuku whose fighting style he knew best, he would have to grudgingly admit it was Todoroki. After their remedial courses and then the internship at Endeavor’s agency, they’d racked up a good amount of real world experience. They fought well together when it was necessary.

But despite this, neither ever engaged each other in combat. Todoroki never asked to spar or for help with training or any of the things Katsuki had done with Izuku. He was glad for it, even though it irritated him to no end to be understood by that half-and-half disaster.

Instead, sometimes they sort of just… existed within the same spaces. Todoroki never talked much, which was the only reason he put up with the company. Although the guy had a habit of occasionally musing out loud on whatever Endeavor was doing (presumably with Izuku and All Might), both of them knew their personal feelings were better suited for silence.

Katsuki had a lot of things to say to that nerd, and until then, it was nobody else’s business.

From their very first training exercise, it had been clear Todoroki wasn’t someone to take lightly. But thanks to Izuku’s savior complex, he was now someone to rely on as well. It was still an uncomfortable feeling to know that, in battle, there were those like Izuku and Todoroki and Kirishima and Kaminari, etc. who had his back, even when he neither needed nor wanted it.

It wasn’t just Todoroki though. Everyone sort of congregated in the common area most evenings, like their failure to pick up on what Izuku had been going through was some kind of shared punishment. Which was stupid because keeping the truth hidden had been the whole point up until now.

Izuku had forced him to see the value of teamwork. Of comrades. Of friends. He and All Might had done that. Now they had the nerve to go solo, to cut Katsuki out of their exclusive little club, and for what? To become a fucking martyr?

Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight wasn’t about to accept being treated like dead weight to be discarded. He’d prove to the nerd that he could keep up. That he could be relied on to have his back. He’d damn well earn that spot at his side.

The doors to Heights Alliance burst open, Iida and Yaoyorozu striding in. Iida raised one stiff arm and shouted, “Everyone! I have received word from Principal Nezu! Endeavor will be arriving at his office tomorrow!”

A very small thread of relief shot through Katsuki. All around him, there was a subdued chorus of cheers, but it was too early to celebrate anything. The real fight hadn’t even begun yet.

Just wait, Nerd. We’re coming for you.

~fin