Chapter Text
Power came easy. Eating didn't.
Izuku slammed his fist into the wall hard enough to split skin.
The dorm spun around him anyway.
His stomach twisted painfully, empty for too many days, but One For All still crackled beneath his skin like it wanted more. Always more.
Another punch.
The drywall dented. His knuckles burned. Black spots crowded his vision.
He couldn’t tell if he was shaking from anger or starvation anymore.
“Move,” he hissed at himself, stumbling back against the wall. “Just—move.”
But his legs nearly gave out beneath him.
He laughed once, breathless and ugly, before driving his fist into the wall again hard enough to make the lights rattle.
The pain barely registered.
That was the scary part.
His body felt distant lately — too light, too cold, like he was wearing himself wrong. Every use of his quirk burned through calories faster than he could replace them, and lately there hadn’t been anything to replace.
Training. Patrols. Classes. Repeat.
Somewhere in between, eating had stopped mattering.
Or maybe he’d just stopped deserving it.
Izuku pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes until sparks burst behind them. His heartbeat thudded unevenly in his ears. Too fast. Too weak.
He needed food.
He knew that.
But the thought of walking downstairs felt impossible.
So instead he punched the wall again.
A crack splintered through the drywall. Dust scattered onto the floor. His arm trembled violently afterward, green lightning flickering weakly over bruised skin before fading out.
“Pathetic,” he whispered.
His knees buckled.
Izuku caught himself on the wall at the last second, breathing hard through clenched teeth while nausea rolled through him in waves. His vision tunneled dangerously.
He was so tired.
Not sleepy.
The kind of tired that settled into bones and stayed there.
Another step backward and he hit the floor hard enough to jar his ribs. For a second he just sat there, staring blankly at the opposite wall while his chest rose too fast.
The room felt freezing.
He dragged a shaky hand over his face, smearing blood from his knuckles across his cheek without noticing.
If he closed his eyes now, he wasn’t sure he’d get back up.
There was something about passing out that Izuku liked.
Maybe liked wasn’t the right word.
But every time his body finally gave up — every time his knees hit the ground and the world went dark — it felt like proof that he’d done enough.
That he’d pushed hard enough. Hurt enough. Earned enough.
Like collapsing was the closest thing he’d ever get to success.
The thought should’ve scared him.
Instead, Izuku sat slumped against the cracked dorm wall and waited for it.
His pulse fluttered weakly beneath his skin. His stomach cramped so violently it made him curl forward, but there was a strange comfort in it too. Hunger meant he was trying. Dizziness meant he hadn’t stopped yet.
Another shaky breath.
His vision blurred at the edges.
Good.
He let his head fall back against the wall with a dull thud, eyes half-lidded as exhaustion dragged at every limb. The ache in his body felt heavy and warm now instead of sharp.
Almost peaceful.
If he passed out now, he wouldn’t have to think anymore. Wouldn’t have to feel how empty his stomach was or how badly his hands were shaking.
And somewhere deep down, ugly and buried where nobody else could see it, a quiet voice whispered:
See?
You worked hard enough to break yourself.
Izuku swallowed hard against the sudden sting in his throat.
The floor rushed up hard enough to crack something.
Izuku didn’t know if it was the drywall or his head.
Pain burst behind his eyes as his body hit the ground wrong, limbs twitching weakly from the impact. For a second he couldn’t breathe. The room spun violently around him, tilting sideways in slow, nauseating waves.
Then the dorm door slammed open.
“The fuck was that—”
Heavy footsteps.
Silence.
“K... Katsuki...”
Bakugo froze.
Izuku was crumpled against the wall beneath the hole he’d punched into it, blood running down his hand and dripping onto the floor in slow red streaks. His face looked wrong — pale enough to blend into the dim light, lips slightly blue, eyes glassy and unfocused.
Too thin.
Way too fucking thin.
Bakugo crossed the room instantly and grabbed him by the front of his hoodie before he could slide sideways again. “Hey. Hey!”
Izuku’s head lolled.
His body was burning up and freezing at the same time. Bakugo could feel him shaking violently through the fabric.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Izuku tried to answer, but all that came out was a weak breath.
Then his stomach cramped hard enough to make him choke.
Bakugo’s eyes dropped immediately.
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
“You didn’t eat,” he said flatly.
Izuku stayed silent.
Bakugo grabbed his jaw harder, forcing him to look up. “How long?”
“I...” Izuku swallowed weakly. “Don’t remember.”
Something cold crawled down Bakugo’s spine.
Because Izuku sounded honest.
His pupils were blown wide. His hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Green sparks crackled weakly beneath his skin before disappearing like his body didn’t even have enough energy left for his quirk anymore.
“Jesus Christ.”
Izuku suddenly sagged forward.
Bakugo caught him before his head hit the floor.
“Oi!” Panic snapped into his voice immediately. “Stay with me.”
Izuku blinked slowly, like even that took effort. His breathing sounded shallow. Wrong.
There was a bruise forming beneath his eyes. His heartbeat — Bakugo could feel it through where he held him — was racing way too fast.
Like his body was trying not to shut down.
“Kacchan,” Izuku mumbled.
“What?”
A weak smile pulled at his mouth. Small. Dizzy. Wrong.
“Tired.”
Bakugo felt genuine fear stab through his chest for the first time in years.
“No,” he said immediately. “No, don’t fucking do that.”
Izuku’s eyes drifted shut anyway.
Bakugo shook him harder this time. “Open your eyes!”
Nothing.
For one horrifying second, Izuku went completely limp in his arms.
Bakugo’s stomach dropped.
“Deku?”
No response.
“IZUKU.”
His voice cracked loud enough to echo off the dorm walls.
Then Izuku finally sucked in a weak breath, face twisting faintly like even breathing hurt.
Bakugo nearly fucking collapsed from relief.
“You stupid fucking idiot,” he whispered shakily, gripping him tighter. “You can’t scare me like that.”
But Izuku barely heard him.
His head rested heavily against Bakugo’s shoulder, consciousness slipping in and out while black spots swallowed the edges of his vision whole.
And somewhere deep down, beneath the fear and pain and hunger twisting through him, a terrible thought kept repeating itself quietly:
At least I pushed hard enough.The worst part was that the voice sounded proud of him.
Izuku tried to move again.
Bad idea.
The second he pushed weakly against Bakugo’s shoulder, his vision completely whited out. Nausea slammed into him so hard he made a small choking sound and pitched sideways.
Bakugo caught him instantly.
“Shit.”
Izuku’s knees buckled underneath him. His entire body felt loose suddenly, unsteady in a way that made panic flare hot in Bakugo’s chest.
“Hey— hey, stay with me.”
“I’m okay,” Izuku lied weakly.
Bakugo stared at him like he’d lost his fucking mind.
“You can barely stand.”
Izuku tried anyway.
His legs gave out immediately.
Bakugo swore and shoved him backward before he could crumple face-first into the floor. Izuku hit the ground with a startled gasp, too exhausted to even fight it as Bakugo grabbed both his ankles roughly.
“Kacchan—?”
“Shut up.”
Bakugo lifted Izuku’s legs up onto the couch beside them, forcing his feet above his head while kneeling over him to keep him still.
At first Izuku looked confused. Then his breathing hitched slightly as the dizzy static in his ears eased just a little.
Bakugo noticed.
“Yeah,” he muttered shakily. “That’s what I thought.”
Izuku’s chest rose too fast beneath him. Every inhale sounded thin and uneven. His face had gone frighteningly pale now, freckles standing out harshly against skin that looked almost gray in the dim dorm lighting.
Bakugo hated it.
Hated how cold his hands felt. Hated how his eyes kept unfocusing. Hated the weak tremors running through him every few seconds like his body was struggling to stay conscious.
“You’re fucking scaring me,” Bakugo snapped, voice rough around the edges.
Izuku blinked at him slowly. “Sorry.”
The automatic apology made something twist violently in Bakugo’s chest.
“Don’t apologize. Just stay awake.”
Izuku’s eyes drifted shut for half a second too long.
Bakugo grabbed his jaw immediately. “Hey. No.”
A weak breath left Izuku. His lashes fluttered faintly before opening again, unfocused and glassy.
Bakugo could practically hear his heartbeat from here — too fast, too erratic. Like his body was running itself into the ground trying to compensate for the fact it had nothing left to burn.
“You seriously didn’t eat anything?”
Izuku swallowed weakly. “…forgot.”
“People don’t forget for this fucking long.”
Izuku didn’t answer.
That scared Bakugo more than anything else had so far.
A knock hit the dorm door.
Bakugo’s head snapped up instantly.
“Bakugo?” Kirishima’s voice came muffled through the wood. “Everything okay in there? We heard yelling.”
Izuku twitched weakly beneath him at the sound. His eyes were barely open now, unfocused and heavy. One of his hands trembled against the floor like he was trying to push himself up again.
Bakugo immediately shoved him back down by the shoulder. “Don’t.”
Another knock. Harder this time.
“Dude?”
Bakugo looked between the door and Izuku sprawled beneath him with his legs still elevated on the couch. Blood stained the floor beside them from Izuku’s split knuckles. His breathing sounded thin and shaky in the suddenly quiet room.
No.
Nobody else was seeing him like this.
Bakugo got up just long enough to wrench the door open a few inches before Kirishima could try again.
Kirishima froze immediately. “Oh.”
Bakugo must’ve looked insane. Sweating, furious, eyes wide with adrenaline.
“What happened?” Kirishima asked quickly, trying to look past him. “Is Midoriya okay?”
Bakugo shifted instantly, blocking the doorway harder. “He’s fine.”
From behind him, Izuku made a weak choking sound.
Kirishima’s expression changed immediately. “That does not sound fine.”
“I said I got it.”
“Bakugo—”
“Leave.”
The word came out sharper than an explosion.
Kirishima blinked. “I’m just trying to help—”
“I KNOW.” Bakugo’s voice cracked suddenly, loud enough that both of them froze.
Silence.
Behind him, Izuku’s breathing stuttered unevenly again.
Bakugo scrubbed a shaking hand over his face before lowering his voice roughly. “Just… give me a minute.”
Kirishima stared at him for a second longer before nodding carefully. “Okay. But if you need Recovery Girl—”
“I know.”
Bakugo slammed the door shut harder than he meant to.
The second it clicked closed, he dropped back to Izuku’s side immediately.
Izuku had turned his head weakly toward the wall while Bakugo was gone, eyes half-lidded again.
“Hey.” Bakugo grabbed his face again, forcing his attention back. “Stay with me.”
Izuku looked exhausted. Beyond exhausted.
“Kacchan,” he whispered faintly, “wanna sleep.”
Fear punched straight through Bakugo’s chest.
“No,” he said instantly. “No, you don’t get to do that right now.”
Izuku’s eyes fluttered anyway.
Bakugo’s grip tightened hard enough to shake.
“Deku.”
For the first time all night, his voice sounded genuinely terrified.
Izuku’s eyes fluttered weakly.
“Kacchan,” he whispered again, barely audible. “Just tired.”
Bakugo leaned down so fast it almost looked violent. “Don’t say shit like that.”
Izuku gave the smallest hum of acknowledgment, but his gaze had already started drifting again. His pupils looked unfocused, slow to react whenever Bakugo shook him lightly.
No.
No, no, no.
Bakugo pressed two shaking fingers hard against the side of Izuku’s neck.
Fast.
Way too fucking fast.
His heartbeat was stumbling over itself beneath pale skin, frantic and uneven in a way Bakugo had only heard during combat injuries. Except this wasn’t from a villain attack. This was from fucking starvation.
Rage curled hot and ugly in his stomach.
“How long?” Bakugo demanded suddenly. “How long have you been doing this?”
Izuku’s lips parted weakly. “Didn’t mean to.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Silence.
Bakugo grabbed his jaw harder. “Izuku.”
The use of his name made Izuku flinch faintly.
“Awhile,” he admitted in a whisper.
Bakugo stared at him in horror.
“Awhile?”
Izuku’s breathing stuttered again. His whole body trembled weakly beneath Bakugo’s hands like he physically couldn’t stop shaking anymore.
“Quirk takes a lot,” he mumbled. “Sometimes I forget after training and then...”
“And then what?”
Izuku swallowed hard.
“Feels easier not to.”
The words punched straight through Bakugo’s chest.
For a second he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even breathe right.
Because Izuku sounded so calm saying it.
Like starving himself half to death had become normal.
Bakugo looked down at him sprawled on the floor with blood on his hands, bruises under his eyes, ribs visible beneath his shirt where it had ridden up slightly — and suddenly understood why Izuku had looked smaller lately. Why he always said he wasn’t hungry. Why he’d been swaying during training yesterday.
How long had this been happening right in front of him?
“You fucking idiot,” Bakugo said softly, but there was no heat in it anymore. Only fear.
Izuku’s eyes drifted shut again.
Bakugo slapped his cheek lightly. “Hey.”
No response.
Harder this time. “Izuku.”
A weak inhale. Barely there.
Bakugo’s stomach twisted violently.
He grabbed for his phone with one hand without taking the other off Izuku for even a second. His fingers shook so badly he almost dropped it.
Recovery Girl. Aizawa. Someone. Fucking anyone.
But before he could hit call, Izuku’s hand weakly caught at his wrist.
Bakugo froze.
“Don’t,” Izuku whispered.
Bakugo stared at him in disbelief. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“Tired of worrying people.”
Something inside Bakugo cracked.
“You think this isn’t worrying me?” he snapped, voice breaking apart around the edges. “Look at you!”
Izuku flinched hard at the volume.
Immediately Bakugo regretted it.
“...shit.”
Izuku turned his face weakly toward the floor, breathing uneven. “Sorry.”
Bakugo felt sick.
Even half-conscious, starving, barely able to keep his eyes open — Izuku still sounded more worried about being a burden than the fact he was collapsing.
Bakugo reached down before he could think too hard about it and shoved a trembling hand into Izuku’s curls, gripping tightly.
“You don’t get to apologize for this,” he whispered roughly. “You don’t.”
Bakugo stared at the screen for a long second.
Recovery Girl’s contact sat there waiting. One button away.
His thumb hovered over it while Izuku lay beneath him barely conscious, trembling under the blanket with his legs still propped above his head.
One call.
That was all it would take.
But then Izuku’s hand weakly caught around his wrist again.
“Kacchan,” he whispered hoarsely. “Please.”
Bakugo looked down at him.
At the exhaustion carved into his face. The panic hidden underneath it.
Not fear of dying.
Fear of being seen like this.
Bakugo clicked the phone off so hard the screen went black instantly.
Izuku visibly relaxed.
That pissed Bakugo off more than anything else had tonight.
“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, shoving the phone across the floor out of reach. “You know that?”
Izuku’s eyes fluttered weakly. “Sorry.”
“Stop fucking apologizing.”
Bakugo dragged a hand through his hair harshly before leaning down again, pressing two fingers against Izuku’s neck to recheck his pulse.
Still way too fast.
Still bad.
But at least he was awake. Barely.
Bakugo exhaled shakily through his nose and looked around the dorm room like food would magically appear if he glared hard enough.
“Can you sit up?” he asked.
Izuku made a tiny face immediately. “Think I’ll puke.”
“Great.”
Bakugo disappeared into the kitchen anyway.
Izuku heard cabinets slamming open and shut, aggressive enough to rattle dishes. More swearing followed. Then the microwave beeped.
The entire time, fear clawed steadily up Bakugo’s spine.
Because leaving Izuku alone for even thirty seconds felt dangerous.
Like he’d come back and find him unconscious again.
Or worse.
Bakugo returned fast, dropping back to the floor beside him with a bottle of water and a hastily made protein shake stolen from the fridge.
“Sit up.”
Izuku tried. Failed instantly.
The second he lifted his head too quickly, the room spun violently and his vision blacked around the edges. A weak sound escaped him before he could stop it.
Bakugo caught him before he hit the floor again.
“Easy, dumbass.”
His voice sounded rough now. Tight with panic he was trying desperately to crush down into anger.
Bakugo slid one arm behind Izuku’s shoulders and hauled him halfway upright against his chest instead. The position made Izuku shiver hard from the sudden warmth.
“Drink.”
Izuku stared blankly at the bottle in Bakugo’s hand for a second too long.
“Kacchan...”
“If you pass out again, I’m dragging your ass to Recovery Girl myself,” Bakugo snapped. “So pick one.”
That got a weak, breathless laugh out of Izuku. Barely there.
But he obeyed.
Bakugo steadied the bottle while Izuku took tiny shaky sips like even swallowing exhausted him.
The entire time, Bakugo kept one arm locked tightly around him.
Like he was scared to let go for even a second.
Bakugo kept the bottle steady while Izuku swallowed another tiny sip.
Then another.
For one brief second, Bakugo thought it might actually stay down.
Izuku’s throat worked weakly as he leaned heavier against Bakugo’s chest, eyes half-shut from exhaustion. His shaking had eased slightly now that he wasn’t flat on the floor.
“Good,” Bakugo muttered. “Again.”
Izuku obeyed automatically.
Two more swallows.
Then suddenly his entire body tensed.
Bakugo felt it immediately.
Izuku jerked hard against him with a strangled sound, one hand flying weakly to his stomach. His breathing hitched sharply.
“Oh, fuck.”
Bakugo barely had time to shove the water aside before Izuku lurched violently forward.
The little bit of water he’d managed to drink came right back up onto the floor.
Izuku gagged hard afterward, whole body trembling painfully as he tried to pull air back into his lungs.
Bakugo stared at him in alarm. “Hey— hey—”
Another dry heave ripped through him.
Nothing came up this time. There was nothing left in his stomach to bring up.
The sound it made was horrible.
Izuku curled inward instinctively, shaking so hard Bakugo had to physically hold him upright. Tears burned at the corners of Izuku’s eyes from the force of it, face pale enough to look ghostly under the dorm lights.
“Easy,” Bakugo said immediately, panic leaking into every word now. “Easy, fucking breathe.”
Izuku tried.
His chest spasmed unevenly instead.
“Kacchan—”
“I know.”
Bakugo grabbed the back of his hoodie as another violent gag tore through him. Nothing but bitter spit hit the floor this time.
Izuku made a weak, miserable sound afterward and sagged heavily against him, trembling uncontrollably.
Bakugo felt cold fear settle deep in his stomach.
Because Izuku’s body wasn’t even handling water anymore.
“Shit,” he whispered.
Izuku’s head dropped against his shoulder bonelessly. His breaths came shallow and shaky against Bakugo’s collarbone.
“Sorry,” he mumbled weakly, voice wrecked raw.
Bakugo almost snapped.
“Stop apologizing!”
Izuku flinched hard immediately.
The reaction made Bakugo feel sick.
“...fuck.” He tightened his grip carefully around Izuku instead, one hand moving shakily to the back of his head. “I’m not mad at you.”
Izuku didn’t answer.
His eyes had drifted shut again.
Bakugo pulled back just enough to look at him properly and felt his heart nearly stop.
Izuku looked limp. Completely exhausted. Sweat clung damply to his skin despite how cold he felt. His breathing still sounded wrong — too weak between each shaky inhale.
“Deku.”
No response.
Bakugo grabbed his face again, panic spiking instantly. “Hey. Open your eyes.”
Slowly, painfully, Izuku did.
But he looked dazed now. Far away.
Like he was losing the fight to stay conscious one second at a time.
Bakugo held his face tighter when his eyes started slipping shut again.
“Stay with me.”
Izuku tried to focus on him. Really tried.
But everything hurt.
His stomach cramped so hard it felt like his body was folding in on itself. His throat burned from throwing up. Every breath came shaky and uneven no matter how hard he fought to steady it.
And worst of all—
Bakugo was looking at him like he was scared.
Izuku hated that look.
“Kacchan,” he whispered weakly. “I’m sorry.”
Bakugo’s expression twisted immediately. “I said stop apologizing.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
His voice cracked.
The sound startled both of them.
Izuku swallowed hard, eyes squeezing shut for a second like he could force the emotion back down before it escaped. But his chest was already shaking now, uneven breaths turning dangerously close to sobs.
Bakugo froze.
“Oh, shit.”
Izuku turned his face away instantly, humiliated. “Don’t look at me.”
That hurt worse than anything else tonight.
Bakugo grabbed his jaw carefully and forced him to look back anyway. “Hey.”
Tears were already slipping down Izuku’s face. Silent at first. Then faster.
Izuku looked horrified by them.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, voice breaking apart completely now. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”
“Deku.”
“I tried—I did, I just—” A shaky breath caught painfully in his chest. “I can’t keep up anymore.”
The confession shattered out of him like something dragged up against his will.
Bakugo stared.
Izuku’s entire body was trembling now, not just from weakness anymore but from the effort of trying not to completely fall apart. Tears soaked into the front of Bakugo’s shirt where his face had fallen against him again.
“I’m so tired,” Izuku whispered brokenly. “All the time.”
Bakugo felt something in his chest cave in.
Because Izuku sounded terrified.
Not of dying.
Of failing.
Like collapsing here mattered less to him than the fact he couldn’t keep pretending he was okay anymore.
“You should hate me,” Izuku choked out suddenly. “I’m supposed to be better than this.”
Bakugo’s grip tightened so fast it almost hurt.
“Don’t say that shit.”
“But it’s true—”
“No.” Bakugo’s voice cracked violently. “No, it fucking isn’t.”
Izuku broke completely after that.
A sob tore out of him hard enough to make his whole body curl inward. Bakugo immediately wrapped both arms around him before he could fold in on himself entirely, holding him upright while he cried.
It was ugly. Exhausted. Half-delirious from hunger and fear and whatever else Izuku had been forcing himself through alone for who knows how long.
Bakugo held him through all of it anyway.
One hand locked protectively around the back of Izuku’s head while the other pressed hard between his shaking shoulder blades.
“You idiot,” Bakugo whispered shakily into his hair. “You absolute fucking idiot.”
But his voice sounded dangerously close to breaking too.
Izuku cried until he couldn’t breathe right.
Every sob seemed to tear itself out of him painfully, wrecking what little strength he had left. His whole body shook in Bakugo’s arms — weak, exhausted tremors that felt terrifyingly fragile compared to how hard he was breaking apart.
Bakugo held him tighter instinctively.
“Easy,” he muttered, even though his own voice sounded wrecked. “Easy, dumbass.”
Izuku buried his face harder into his shoulder like he was trying to disappear.
“I can’t do it anymore,” he choked out. “I can’t keep up with everyone and I keep messing up and—”
“You’re not messing up.”
“Yes I am!”
The words came out sharp with panic before collapsing back into another broken sob.
Bakugo felt Izuku clutch weakly at the back of his shirt with trembling fingers. Not enough strength to hold on properly. Just enough to keep himself grounded.
“I’m trying so hard,” Izuku whispered. “I swear I’m trying.”
Something about hearing that nearly fucking destroyed Bakugo.
Because of course he was trying.
That was the problem.
Izuku always tried until there was nothing left of him.
Bakugo could feel every sharp inhale against his neck. Every exhausted tremor. The awful weakness in his body when he slumped heavier and heavier against him between sobs.
“You should’ve told me,” Bakugo said quietly.
Izuku laughed weakly through tears. “You would’ve yelled at me.”
“I’m yelling at you now.”
A tiny, broken sound escaped Izuku that might’ve been a laugh. Or another sob.
Bakugo shut his eyes hard for a second.
The fear still hadn’t gone away.
Izuku was conscious, yeah, but barely. His skin still felt cold. He still looked pale enough to pass out at any second. Every few minutes his body would jerk faintly like he was fighting dizziness again.
Bakugo hated how helpless it made him feel.
“I don’t know how to stop,” Izuku admitted suddenly, voice muffled against his shoulder.
Bakugo stilled.
“What?”
“With my quirk.” Izuku’s breathing hitched unevenly. “It takes so much energy and if I slow down people get hurt and if I stop training I fall behind and then everyone catches up and I just...”
His voice dissolved again.
Bakugo felt sick listening to it.
Because none of this sounded dramatic coming from Izuku.
It sounded honest.
Like he genuinely believed destroying himself was the only way to deserve being here.
Bakugo pulled back just enough to force Izuku to look at him again. His eyes were swollen red now, tears still slipping silently down his face.
“Listen to me,” Bakugo said harshly. “You are not allowed to work yourself to death.”
Izuku’s expression crumpled instantly. “But what if I need to?”
The question shattered something in Bakugo’s chest.
Not because it was manipulative.
Not because it was exaggerated.
Because Izuku sounded like he truly, honestly believed that was normal.
Bakugo stared at him for a long second before dragging him closer again, one hand gripping the back of his hoodie tightly.
“You’re so fucking stupid,” he whispered roughly. “You really think you gotta earn being alive?”
Izuku didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
Izuku’s breath caught hard in his throat.
Bakugo felt it happen against his shoulder before he saw it on his face — the way his expression folded inward painfully, like he’d been hit somewhere deep enough to crack.
“Kacchan...”
His voice sounded small. Raw from crying and throwing up and exhaustion.
Bakugo hated it.
Hated how weak he sounded. Hated that Izuku looked genuinely shocked someone cared this much.
“You really think you gotta earn being alive?” Bakugo repeated, rougher this time. “After everything?”
Izuku’s eyes dropped immediately.
That silence again.
Bakugo almost lost his mind over it.
“Look at me.”
Slowly, Izuku did. Tears still clung thickly to his lashes. His face looked pale and wrecked, freckles standing out sharply against overheated skin.
Bakugo grabbed his jaw carefully before he could look away again.
“You save people until your bones break,” he snapped quietly. “You throw yourself in front of literally fucking anything that breathes if it means someone else gets out okay. You work harder than anybody I know.”
Izuku’s breathing shook harder.
“And somehow,” Bakugo continued, voice cracking at the edges, “you still think you gotta deserve food? Sleep? Existing?”
A sob caught in Izuku’s throat again.
“I don’t know how to stop,” he whispered. “Every time I rest it feels wrong.”
Bakugo shut his eyes for half a second like the words physically hurt.
Because he understood that feeling more than he wanted to.
But this— this was killing him.
Bakugo opened his eyes again and suddenly noticed how badly Izuku was shaking. Not emotional this time. Physical. His hands trembled violently where they clutched weakly at Bakugo’s shirt. His breathing kept skipping strangely between words.
“Hey.” Bakugo’s tone shifted instantly. “Hey, stay with me.”
Izuku blinked at him sluggishly. Too slow.
“Dizzy,” he mumbled.
“I know.”
Bakugo adjusted his grip immediately, pulling Izuku tighter against his chest so he wouldn’t slump sideways again. The blanket slipped slightly off Izuku’s shoulder and Bakugo swore under his breath at how freezing his skin felt beneath it.
“You’re fucking ice cold.”
Izuku barely reacted.
That scared Bakugo more than anything else tonight.
Usually Izuku apologized for everything. Usually he tried to laugh things off or insist he was fine even while bleeding.
Now he just looked tired.
Dangerously tired.
Bakugo pressed his palm against the back of Izuku’s neck, grounding himself in the weak warmth there while his mind raced violently for what the hell to do next. Food. Sugar. Salt. Something.
But Izuku couldn’t even keep water down.
Fear twisted sharper in his chest.
“Kacchan,” Izuku whispered suddenly.
“What?”
“Don’t leave.”
Bakugo froze.
The words were barely audible. Half-delirious from exhaustion. But the fear underneath them was painfully real.
Like Izuku genuinely thought Bakugo might put him down and walk away.
Something ugly cracked open in Bakugo’s chest.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said immediately. Too fast. Too honest.
Izuku’s eyes fluttered weakly at the answer.
Bakugo could feel his body slowly relaxing against him now that the panic had burned itself out into exhaustion. The adrenaline keeping him conscious was fading. Fast.
“Nope,” Bakugo muttered the second he noticed Izuku drifting again. He tightened his grip around him and shook him lightly. “Stay awake.”
“Tired...”
“I know you’re tired.”
Izuku’s head slipped heavily against his shoulder. “Just for a minute.”
“No.” Panic flared instantly beneath Bakugo’s ribs again. “No, don’t do that shit.”
Izuku made a weak sound of protest when Bakugo grabbed his face again, forcing his eyes open. They looked glazed over now. Unfocused.
Bakugo’s stomach dropped.
“Deku.”
A slow blink.
“Talk to me.”
Another blink.
“Anything.”
Izuku swallowed weakly before mumbling, “Your hands are warm.”
The quiet honesty of it nearly fucking destroyed him.
Bakugo looked away sharply, jaw tightening hard enough to hurt. Then he dragged the blanket tighter around Izuku with shaking hands while keeping him pressed firmly against his chest, like if he held him together hard enough maybe the rest of him wouldn’t fall apart too
Izuku nearly slipped out of Bakugo’s arms again.
That decided it.
“Fuck this.”
Bakugo hooked an arm under Izuku’s knees and the other around his back before hauling him fully off the floor. Izuku let out a weak noise of surprise, hands instinctively grabbing at the front of Bakugo’s shirt even though he barely seemed conscious enough to realize what was happening.
“Kacchan...”
“Shut up.”
Bakugo adjusted his grip immediately when Izuku sagged harder against him. He felt awful — frighteningly light and burning up at the same time, trembling weakly with every shaky breath.
Bakugo hated how easy it was to carry him now.
The walk to the couch only took a few seconds, but Bakugo still kept glancing down constantly like he expected Izuku to stop breathing halfway there.
“You better not throw up on me,” he muttered tightly.
Izuku made the faintest sound that might’ve been a laugh. Or maybe just a weak breath.
Bakugo lowered him onto the couch carefully despite himself, one hand staying braced behind Izuku’s head so he didn’t slam into the armrest. The second he let go, Izuku curled instinctively onto his side beneath the blanket, shoulders shaking faintly.
“Hey.”
Bakugo crouched down immediately beside him.
Izuku’s eyes fluttered weakly open at the sound of his voice. They looked glassy and unfocused still. Exhausted in a way that made Bakugo’s chest ache violently.
“You with me?”
A tiny nod.
Barely.
Bakugo dragged the blanket tighter around him anyway before shoving one hand against Izuku’s shoulder to stop him from curling further inward.
“Don’t bunch up like that. You’re gonna make yourself puke again.”
Izuku swallowed weakly and forced himself still. His breathing still sounded wrong — shallow, uneven little inhales that kept catching halfway.
Bakugo sat down hard on the edge of the couch beside him without thinking about it.
The movement made Izuku blink slowly toward him.
“You staying?” he whispered.
Bakugo looked almost offended. “Obviously.”
Izuku’s expression crumpled slightly at that. Like he still hadn’t expected the answer.
Something angry and painful twisted in Bakugo’s chest.
He reached down before he could think too hard about it and shoved his hand into Izuku’s curls again, gripping gently this time at the back of his head.
“You scared the absolute shit outta me,” he muttered.
Izuku’s eyes drifted shut at the feeling. “Sorry...”
Bakugo clicked his tongue sharply. “One more apology and I’m smacking you.”
A weak huff of breath escaped Izuku that sounded dangerously close to another cry.
Bakugo’s grip tightened immediately.
“Hey.”
Izuku’s breathing stuttered again. His face twisted faintly like he was trying not to fall apart all over another time.
Bakugo moved before thinking and tugged him sideways until Izuku’s head rested heavily against his thigh instead of the couch cushion.
“There,” he muttered roughly. “Less chance you crack your skull open if you pass out again.”
Izuku looked too tired to argue.
Within seconds, he was curling unconsciously toward the warmth, one weak hand still tangled in Bakugo’s shirt like he was scared Bakugo might disappear if he let go.
Bakugo stayed sitting rigidly beside him for a long moment.
Izuku’s head rested against his thigh beneath the blanket, breathing shallow and uneven while his fingers stayed twisted weakly into Bakugo’s shirt. Every few seconds his body trembled faintly, exhausted beyond the point of hiding it anymore.
Bakugo stared down at him with a sick feeling twisting harder and harder in his chest.
Then he grabbed his phone again.
Fast. Aggressive. Like anger could stop his hands from shaking.
“What the hell do you even do for this...” he muttered under his breath, unlocking it one-handed.
The search bar popped up.
Bakugo typed furiously:
how to stop body from throwing up water
how long can someone go without eating
why cant starving people drink water
Every result made his stomach drop further.
Dehydration. Electrolyte imbalance. Refeeding syndrome. Hospitalization recommended. Risk of fainting. Heart complications.
Bakugo’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt.
“Fuck.”
Beside him, Izuku stirred weakly at the sound. His eyes opened halfway, glassy and unfocused from exhaustion.
“Kacchan...?”
Bakugo locked his phone instantly before Izuku could see the screen. “Nothing.”
Izuku looked at him for another slow second like he didn’t believe him, then his gaze drifted shut again.
Bakugo immediately nudged his shoulder. “Hey. No.”
Izuku made a tired sound of protest into the couch cushion.
“Stay awake.”
“Tired,” he whispered again.
Bakugo swallowed hard. “Yeah, I know.”
He looked back down at the search results anyway, thumb scrolling faster now. Tiny sips. Electrolytes. Keep conscious. Seek medical attention if unable to hold down fluids.
Bakugo scrubbed a hand harshly down his face.
Everything kept saying hospital.
Recovery Girl.
Help.
But every time he looked down at Izuku curled against him, trembling even in his sleepiness, he remembered the panic in his eyes when Bakugo almost made that call.
Don’t leave.
Bakugo exhaled shakily through his nose.
“Stupid fucking idiot,” he whispered, though there was no heat left in it.
Izuku shifted weakly at the sound of his voice, instinctively leaning closer to the warmth beside him.
Bakugo froze for half a second before carefully pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders again.
Then he unlocked his phone one more time and typed:
what can starving person keep down besides water
His stomach twisted harder the more he read. Broth. Crackers. Sugar. Electrolytes. Tiny amounts at a time.
Bakugo glanced toward the kitchen immediately, mind racing.
Behind him, Izuku’s breathing suddenly hitched strangely again.
Bakugo’s head snapped back down so fast it almost hurt.
“Deku?”
Izuku’s face had tightened faintly in pain, brows pulling together while one shaky hand weakly pressed against his stomach beneath the blanket.
Another cramp.
Another quiet, miserable sound.
Bakugo tossed the phone aside instantly and grabbed his shoulder before he could curl too tightly inward again.
“Easy,” he said quickly. “Easy, don’t tense up like that.”
Izuku blinked up at him dazedly, eyes shining faintly with leftover tears and exhaustion.
“Kacchan...”
Bakugo hated how helpless his own name sounded in Izuku’s mouth right now.
“I’m here,” he said immediately. “I got you.”
Izuku’s breathing slowly evened back out beneath the blanket, though every now and then a tremor still rolled through him hard enough to make Bakugo’s stomach twist.
The second Izuku’s eyes drifted shut again, Bakugo snatched his phone back up.
His search history was becoming genuinely horrifying.
how dangerous is it if starving person throws up water
how to hydrate someone who cant keep fluids down
symptoms of severe starvation
when to take someone to hospital dehydration
Every answer felt worse than the last.
Bakugo’s eyes scanned rapidly over phrases that made cold dread crawl up his spine.
Rapid heartbeat. Confusion. Fainting. Organ stress. Low blood sugar.
His gaze flicked instantly toward Izuku.
Confusion. Check.
Fainting. Definitely fucking check.
Bakugo looked back at the screen with growing panic tightening painfully in his chest.
He typed again.
what happens when body starts rejecting water after starvation
The results loaded.
The first thing he saw made his stomach drop so hard he thought he might actually throw up himself.
Seek medical attention immediately if unable to retain fluids.
Bakugo locked the screen hard enough his thumb hurt.
“Nope,” he muttered shakily. “Not reading that.”
Beside him, Izuku shifted weakly at the sound of his voice. His fingers tightened faintly in Bakugo’s shirt without opening his eyes.
Bakugo stared down at the hand clutching him.
Even half-delirious, Izuku was still making sure he was there.
Something sharp and awful lodged itself beneath Bakugo’s ribs.
He unlocked the phone again anyway.
how to get electrolytes in someone slowly
best foods after starvation
can low blood sugar make someone emotional
Bakugo actually scoffed bitterly at that one.
“Yeah,” he muttered quietly, glancing at Izuku’s tear-stained face. “No shit.”
His thumb hovered over another search before he typed it anyway.
how long without food becomes dangerous
The answer loaded immediately.
Bakugo read silently for a few seconds before his expression changed completely.
“…fuck.”
He looked back down at Izuku so fast it almost hurt.
“You seriously don’t remember when you ate?” he asked quietly.
Izuku made a faint noise beneath the blanket. Barely conscious.
Bakugo leaned closer. “Deku.”
A slow blink.
“How long?”
Izuku stared at him blankly for a second like he genuinely couldn’t process the question anymore. Then his eyes drifted toward the ceiling weakly while he tried to think.
“Yesterday... maybe?”
Bakugo immediately knew he was lying.
Not intentionally.
Just badly enough out of it that he honestly didn’t know anymore.
Bakugo looked back at the search results with growing horror. Then at Izuku’s trembling body curled against him on the couch. Then back at the screen again.
His heart was beating way too fast now.
Because he suddenly couldn’t stop imagining what would’ve happened if he hadn’t come upstairs tonight.
If nobody had heard the wall crack.
If Izuku had passed out alone in this room instead.
Bakugo swallowed hard enough it hurt.
Then, with visibly shaking hands, he opened another tab and typed:
how to keep someone awake when they keep passing out
Bakugo read the results three times without actually processing any of them.
Monitor breathing. Keep them responsive. Raise their legs. Seek emergency care if consciousness changes.
His eyes dragged slowly back toward Izuku.
Consciousness changes.
Yeah. No fucking kidding.
Izuku looked barely there now, curled weakly under the blanket with one arm tucked against his stomach. His breathing still sounded uneven, soft little inhales that occasionally caught like his body forgot how for a second.
Bakugo reached over immediately every time it happened.
“Hey.”
A small shake to his shoulder.
Izuku blinked slowly back awake each time, dazed and exhausted.
“Sorry,” he whispered automatically after the third time.
Bakugo felt something hot and awful flare in his chest.
“You apologize for literally everything,” he snapped quietly. “It’s insane.”
Izuku’s eyes drifted downward. “Makes people less mad.”
That hit Bakugo hard enough to leave him speechless for a second.
Because Izuku said it so casually.
Like he’d learned it young.
Like he believed it.
Bakugo looked away sharply and unlocked his phone again before he had to think too hard about why that hurt so fucking much.
symptoms of low blood sugar emergency
what happens before someone passes out
can dehydration cause confusion and crying
Every result sounded more and more like Izuku.
Bakugo hated it.
He clicked another page.
What to do if someone cannot tolerate water after prolonged lack of food
Small amounts. Electrolytes. Sugary fluids. Avoid overwhelming the stomach. Watch for worsening mental status.
Bakugo’s eyes caught hard on the last line.
Worsening mental status may include confusion, delayed responses, emotional instability, or difficulty staying conscious.
Bakugo slowly lowered the phone.
Izuku was staring at the ceiling now with heavy, unfocused eyes. Completely drained.
“Deku.”
A pause.
“…yeah?”
“What day is it?”
Izuku blinked slowly.
Bakugo watched panic flicker faintly across his face.
“…Thursday?”
“At least you know that much.”
Izuku frowned weakly like he could hear the fear hidden underneath the insult.
“Kacchan...”
Bakugo scrubbed both hands harshly down his face before leaning forward, elbows on his knees, phone dangling uselessly in one hand.
He had no clue what he was doing.
He could fight villains. Win battles. Blast through concrete.
But this?
Watching Izuku slowly shake apart in front of him while Google told him ten different horrifying ways it could get worse?
Bakugo felt completely fucking useless.
Another small sound pulled him out of it.
He looked up instantly. “What?”
Izuku had curled tighter into himself again, face pale and pinched with pain. One shaking hand pressed hard against his stomach beneath the blanket.
“Hurts,” he admitted quietly.
Bakugo moved closer immediately. “Where?”
Izuku gave him a tired look. “Everywhere.”
The attempt at humor sounded miserable.
Bakugo exhaled sharply through his nose before carefully pushing Izuku’s curls back from his damp forehead. His skin still felt wrong. Too warm and too cold at the same time.
“You’re freaking me out,” Bakugo muttered before he could stop himself.
Izuku’s expression immediately crumpled with guilt. “Sorry—”
“Jesus Christ.” Bakugo grabbed his hand before he could spiral again. “Stop apologizing for five fucking minutes.”
Izuku went quiet.
Bakugo realized a second later that he was still holding his hand.
Thin fingers. Ice cold skin. Trembling weakly even now.
Bakugo tightened his grip instead of letting go.
Then he picked his phone back up with his free hand and typed one more search into Google while Izuku watched him sleepily from the couch cushions.
how to tell if someone is getting worse instead of better
Bakugo stared at the screen too long.
The words started blurring together after a while.
Confusion. Fainting. Organ failure. Loss of consciousness. Emergency symptoms.
Every article sounded worse than the last. Every symptom sounded more like Izuku.
Bakugo’s breathing started getting too fast without him noticing.
He kept scrolling anyway.
How to know if dehydration is severe.
How long can someone survive without enough food.
What happens when starvation affects the heart.
His stomach twisted harder with every search result.
Then Izuku shifted weakly beside him and let out another exhausted, painful sound.
That did it.
Bakugo dropped the phone into his lap and pressed both hands hard over his face.
“Fuck,” he whispered shakily. “Fuck, fuck, fuck...”
The room suddenly felt too small. Too hot.
His chest hurt.
Because every thought kept spiraling into something worse.
What if Izuku stopped breathing while Bakugo looked away?
What if he passed out again and didn’t wake back up this time?
What if Bakugo had gotten here ten minutes later?
His thoughts got uglier after that.
What if this had been happening for months and nobody noticed because Izuku smiled through it?
Bakugo’s hands curled tightly into his hair.
“How the hell did you let it get this bad?” he demanded suddenly, voice cracking apart halfway through.
Izuku flinched hard beneath the blanket.
Immediately Bakugo regretted it.
“No— shit, I didn’t mean—” He cut himself off harshly, breathing uneven. “I’m not blaming you.”
But Izuku had already turned his face away again, guilt written all over his exhausted expression.
Bakugo felt sick.
Everything about this made him feel sick.
The fear. The helplessness. The fact Izuku looked more apologetic than scared.
Bakugo stood abruptly from the couch and started pacing before he even realized he was moving.
Explosions sparked weakly in his palms from stress, tiny pops of light that vanished just as fast.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” he snapped at nobody.
Izuku watched him blearily from the couch cushions, eyes heavy and glassy.
“Kacchan...”
Bakugo turned immediately. “What?”
“You’re shaking.”
The quiet observation hit harder than yelling would’ve.
Bakugo looked down.
His hands were trembling badly enough he couldn’t hide it anymore.
He clenched them instantly. “I’m fine.”
Izuku gave him the faintest tired look, like he knew that was bullshit but didn’t have the energy to argue.
Bakugo felt something in his chest crack painfully at the sight.
Because even now — starving, barely conscious, curled up sick on the couch — Izuku was still paying attention to him.
Still worrying about him.
Bakugo laughed once under his breath. It sounded awful.
“You are so unbelievably messed up,” he whispered, though the words came out more devastated than angry.
Then he dragged both hands down his face hard before sitting back down beside the couch again, too overwhelmed to keep pacing.
For a second he just sat there breathing hard, staring at the floor while panic clawed violently through his chest.
He didn’t know how to fix this.
And Bakugo hated not knowing how to fix things.
Another weak sound made him look up instantly.
Izuku had shifted closer to the edge of the couch without realizing it, like he’d been trying to reach for him in his half-conscious state.
Bakugo’s expression broke completely.
“Oh, you fucking idiot...”
He leaned forward immediately, grabbing Izuku’s hand again and holding it tight enough to ground himself too.
Bakugo sat there for another minute trying to steady his breathing.
Izuku’s hand stayed limp in his, cold fingers twitching weakly every so often like he was fighting sleep even now.
The blanket had slipped halfway off his shoulder again. His face looked exhausted beyond words, lashes damp from crying, breathing still uneven enough to make Bakugo’s chest tighten every time it caught.
Bakugo looked at him. Then at the kitchen. Then back again.
“…Broth,” he muttered suddenly.
Izuku blinked slowly. “What?”
“Google said broth.” Bakugo pushed himself to his feet too fast, nearly knocking his knee into the coffee table. “Tiny amounts. Salt. Whatever.”
Izuku watched him blearily shuffle toward the kitchen like he couldn’t fully process what was happening.
“Kacchan...”
Bakugo pointed at him immediately without turning around. “Don’t move.”
Then he disappeared into the kitchen and immediately started slamming cabinets open.
“Where the fuck...”
More cabinet doors. More swearing.
Izuku could hear drawers being yanked open aggressively enough to rattle silverware. A second later Bakugo cursed loudly when something crashed onto the counter.
“Stupid fucking—”
The microwave beeped.
Bakugo paced while it heated, arms crossed tightly over his chest as his mind spiraled again. He kept glancing toward the living room every few seconds to make sure Izuku was still awake.
Still breathing.
Every time Izuku shifted too slowly, Bakugo’s heart lurched painfully into his throat.
Finally the microwave beeped again.
Bakugo grabbed the mug too quickly and hissed when the heat burned his fingers. “Shit.”
He carried it back carefully this time, crouching beside the couch immediately after setting it down on the coffee table. Steam curled faintly into the air between them.
Izuku looked at it blankly.
“It’s just broth,” Bakugo said quickly, like he was already defensive about caring this much. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
Izuku’s eyes immediately went glassy again.
Bakugo groaned. “Nope. Absolutely not. No crying.”
“You made me soup,” Izuku whispered weakly.
“It’s broth, dumbass.”
But his voice cracked slightly anyway.
Bakugo grabbed the mug after it cooled a little and slid one arm behind Izuku’s shoulders again, carefully helping him sit up against the armrest. Izuku winced weakly at the movement, body trembling hard from the effort alone.
“Easy.”
Bakugo held the mug out carefully. “Tiny sips.”
Izuku hesitated.
Fear flashed briefly across his exhausted face. Fear of throwing up again.
Bakugo noticed immediately.
“Hey.” His voice softened despite himself. “Slow this time.”
Izuku looked at him for another second before finally nodding faintly.
Bakugo steadied the mug while Izuku took the smallest sip imaginable.
Then both of them froze.
Waiting.
Izuku swallowed hard. His stomach cramped faintly beneath the blanket, enough to make his face tighten, but this time he didn’t gag.
Bakugo stared at him intensely. “Again.”
Another tiny sip.
Still okay.
Something dangerously close to relief nearly made Bakugo dizzy.
“There you go,” he muttered quietly before he could stop himself. “Good.”