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"Don't fucking die you damn nerd, don't you dare fucking do it," Bakugou says as he applies more pressure to Izuku's scorched stomach, chest, and body. The protective suit he wore proved useless to prevent most if not all severe burns and injuries. The man and hero that lies below him gasp in pain as his chest rapidly rises and falls with every breath. Izuku's eyes are unfocused and with every inhale and exhale of air he takes, the sound becomes move wavered and shallow. His pain causes Bakugou to wince as he tries to keep from gagging at the sight, it's gruesome and horrid and he feels like this is all just a bad fucking dream; after all, how could it be real; how could this happen so fast.
Right now, they were stuck at the bottom of a warehouse, in a concrete room, 100 feet below the surface, with no way to get out. It was a trap, they were supposed to be taking out a child trafficking ring, but things didn't go as planned. A group of heroes they were working with had scouted the place months beforehand in an undercover mission. They were invited on the team as both long- and short-range fighters with versatile quirks in case things went south. The raid took place at night right before the kids were supposed to be sent off to an undisclosed location.
However, when they arrived all the thugs were gone, and the only thing left was a group of kids they were there to rescue. They knew there had to have been an information leak, the traffickers must have decided it was best to just cut their losses and skip town. However, they still had to sweep the entire warehouse ensuring that there was no one left to arrest or question. Bakugou and Izuku were the ones sent in to complete this task. Everything was going smoothly until Bakugou and Izuku entered the concrete storage room located on the bottom floor.
Izuku and Bakugou had entered and swept the room thoroughly before turning to leave. That's when it happened. The door must have closed after they went inside. Bakugou went to reopen it and as the door was pushed forward Izuku noticed a wire attached to it leading up and out. He found it odd until he heard a slight ticking noise. Before either could think he shoved Bakugou out of the way right as the explosion set off.
Izuku was blown 10 feet or so back as the door sealed itself off as rubble fell from above sealing them off from the rest of the world. Bakugou didn't even have time to gather himself as the lights flickered until they shut off completely and the room turned pitch black. As he lay on the floor after being knocked away by Izuku and part of the explosion, his breathing, leaky pipes, and sounds of small electrical surges, were all he could hear for the next painfully uncertain moments as Izuku didn't make a single sound.
His head spun, and the smell of mold, rust, and burnt flesh wafted through his nose. His hand trembled whether that was from being injured, or nerves he wasn't sure, and it didn't matter. What did matter was getting to his friend to see if he was okay; if he was alive. Bakugou stood up on shaken legs reaching out for a wall to lean on only to lean against the wide-open space between him and everything else. He almost fell over flailing in the darkness, he stumbled forward until he grabbed onto a bookshelf thankfully not introducing his face to the floor.
He called out for Izuku, but no response answered back. For what felt like an eternity, he called his friend's name, waiting and then calling again over and over; like a single-player game of Marko Polo. His eyes stung, from what he would tell anyone if asked was the dust that had stirred after the shaking concrete walls and ceiling during the blast. Finally, after who knows how long Bakugou was shown some kind of indication his friend was alive.
It was a pained groan across the room from him, but to Bakugou it was the sound of life. His friend was alive. He fell to the ground and started crawling around and feeling the damp rough floor beneath his hands as he listened to his friends bellow of pain, using it as a beckon for where to go. As he was almost to the other man, only a few strides away the lights flickered once again turning back on fully after a minute and Bakugou was left with the sickening sight of his friend's ablaze costume and body before him.
Now in the present Bakugou screams for the tenth time into his com as he presses down on the side button with one hand while the other is covering what looks to be the area secreting the most blood in Izuku's upper stomach with his former shirt, now makeshift gauze. "I NEED BACKUP IN HERE!" But all he's met with is the hazed sound of static. "Fuck!" He groans as he lifts his head back to stare at the concrete ceiling pleading to God that everything will be okay.
"Bakugou," Izuku manages to gasp out as he tries to look at his gapping abdomen.
"Don't you dare fucking move, Deku," he grits out in a way that reminds Izuku of their Aizawa sensei's stern commanding voice that told them he wasn't screwing around.
"I have to stand up for a moment to try and get a signal," Bakugou says as he grabs Izuku's hand, placing pressure on the part of the wound that was squirting blood minutes before, however thankfully he had managed to slow it down considerably. "Hold this," he says while standing up.
Izuku tilts his head slightly to the right as he lies on his back. His neck aches in pain, maybe a fracture he wonders as he turns to see his friend. Every part of his body burned in excruciating pain at the moment, and he wasn't even sure how exactly he was conscious let alone regained it after the blast. His skin felt as if someone had raked a cheese grater across it and then dunked him into the ocean after wailing on him with willow tree sticks. But he had to see him.
As irrational as it was Izuku had to see his friend. He had to assure himself Bakugou wasn't leaving, to know that he wouldn't be alone if he died here tonight. Heck, he didn't want Bakugou to stand up in the first place because compressing his wounds was hell, especially when he couldn't see the extent of them.
Izuku eyes followed Bakugou the entire time he paced around the perimeter of the room. Bakugou walked it at least 10 times, then in a zigzag pattern through the middle another 20 times, screaming profanities the whole way. Whether it was at the only communication device between the two of them that wasn't obliterated in the blast or the whole fucked upness of the situation itself; was unclear. Maybe it was at God and his cruelty towards them and those who were just doing their best while letting people like child traffickers run free.
Bakugou finally gave up as Izuku rasped out a plea for him to just sit down since the device was obviously not going to work for what felt like the hundredth time. Bakugou walked back over after throwing the device at a wall after he accepted their fate. He made his way back over to the mutilated man he couldn't bring himself to look directly at.
"Mother fucking, good for nothing, piece of shit-" He said as he approached Izuku.
"Bakugou," Izuku said sternly holding back a wince of pain as he gave his friend a scrutinizing glare. Izuku was sure that the others were aware of their predicament even if they couldn't communicate directly at the moment. They surely knew what floor they were on or would soon enough just by process of elimination and it was only a matter of time before they noticed they were missing. But they probably don't know I'm...injured. But they did know where the two would be, and someone was bound to come looking for them any moment now. Hopefully...possibly, he thought.
A second after Bakugou gave Izuku a challenging look for being cut off halfway through his rant of obscenities as he stood above the other, Izuku devolved into a coughing fit. He shot down to the floor so Izuku could move his hand back away from his wound as he coughed up blood that leaked down the side of his lips and smeared across the corners of his face, as it glided across his once baby-like skin. As he did so, Bakugou tried to ensure that his wounds didn't worsen from the contracting muscles and sudden movement.
"Ow, Deku calm down," he said worry flashing through his eyes as he looked at his friend's painful expression accidentally lowering his gaze toward his wounds. He looked from his mangled face to his neck, then lower chest, upper stomach, and arms, all the way down to his blistering thighs.
Izuku's neck, face, and arms were a collage of varying degrees of burns, the best of which were only blistered, and the worst of which were melted clean off the bone or sunk into themselves like wax, dipping into the under layers of his skin reaching the muscle and tissue below. Some areas were coated in spots of hot pink, red, and white. Mostly around his face, forearms, and hands, places where the blast must have not evenly dispersed itself in the surge. Some spots still had his suit intact, Bakugou felt a little relief looking at those areas, he was pretty sure at least he wouldn't have to worry too about them; for now.
Right now, he was worried about internal bleeding. His stomach and chest are where his body took most of the hit, as his skin there was nonexistent. He could see muscles as they clenched and unclenched when his body contracted with coughs, some areas even where organs were moving around like worms in a worm bed. His entire chest was covered in third-degree burns, charred black. Bakugou sucked in a breath through his teeth as he noticed a spot where his body and costume had seemed to fuse, frantically trying to advert his gaze anywhere else, only to lock onto the sight of his ribs instead.
He could see white as two of his bottom ribs on the right-hand side looked like they were almost protruding from his body. Everything was concerning and seemed like any one of the wounds could be cause for death, let alone all of them combined. Bakugou wasn't sure what looked right and what looked deadly, but he did know one thing, there was blood.
So... Much... Blood. Everywhere was there was covered in the viscous red liquid that seemed to coat his lung with the smell of iron along with the stench of burning flesh. Bakugou's stomach churned at the sight, he had to restrain himself from dry heaving as he found a manageable balance between breathing too little and too much. He knew if he had barfed or gaged Izuku would not have been offended, for all Bakugou knew he could smell what he was too and was just unable to escape it unlike himself. However, he didn't want his idiot friend to worry himself over Bakugou becoming sick at the sight of him, he would assume he was being a burden and fret over him when all he should be doing was keeping himself alive till they were saved.
When Izuku finished coughing he laid his head back down on the hard floor. There was a painful-sounding crack as the man didn't lay down gently, probably from lack of energy but they both chose to ignore it as they had much bigger problems. They needed to focus on those problems right now instead of smaller things so that's what they did instead of speaking. They let the sound of buzzing lights play as background noise to the moments of silence between Izuku's groans and Bakugou's curses.
There came a time when everything went calm and silent between them. Bakugou's inner thoughts decided this would be a good moment to slink out into the place where others could hear them. "Man, you look like shit," he said. Izuku let out a contained snort and then winced in pain as the movement jostled his injuries once again.
"I feel like it...Do you think I'll be babied when I get home?" Izuku asked trying to lighten the mood.
"Yeah, I'm sure you will, icy-hot and the rest of those UA extras will all be there to greet you at the hospital, probably with a glass of warm milk and some cookies."
"I think I'd prefer something a little stronger if that happens."
"I think we all would. What is it Aizawa sensei calls you...problem child? More like shit show magnet." Bakugou says as he presses a little harder noticing the wound has reopened.
"Yeah," Izuku says with a wince. They both sit in a tense silence after that until Izuku decides to speak again. "Bakugou?" He questions grabbing the other's attention with his serious tone.
"Yeah?" He draws knowing he won't like whatever Izuku says next.
"If I die here, will you tell the others I'm sorry and tell Shoto I love him?" Bakugou blinks, that's not what he expected, but at the same time, he knew he probably should have.
Izuku wants me to send his fucking regards to everyone? Izuku had just gotten married to Shoto six months before, he had just made his way into the top 20 heroes after being just three years out after graduating. He was just getting started, yet he was so ready to give up. No, Bakugou wouldn't have any of that, he wouldn't allow it.
"Don't ever fucking say that!" Bakugou yells. His words echoed off the walls of the room mockingly, but he paid it no mind as he continued. "I'm not sending them you're fucking regards...asshole. Tell them yourself!"
"Please," Izuku cried as he tried to convey to Bakugou just how much pain he was in emotionally and physically. "There's almost no chance I'll even make it out of here alive, let alone if I survive after being rushed to the hospital. Come on, you and I both know how bad this is; we were trained for this. So, don't make me out to be the unreasonable one here, when I'm just saying what you don't want to accept." His words were a mixture of tears, blood, and coughs, and the sentences, were barely legible through his anguish but the message was unmistakable.
"You are being unreasonable! You want me to tell everyone that, oppsie you died, but don't worry, because he loved all of you, so, that makes it better; and oh yeah, did I mention it's my fucking fault?" Bakugou screams as spit stretches from the top and bottom row of his teeth blowing out like a sail in the wind as he puts more emphasis on every word.
They both look at each other, not knowing what to do or say. Izuku eyes are red from tears or burns, no one knew. Bakugou's face was a mixture of mortification and rage as he attempted to decide whether to stand by what he said or brush over it like it never happened, however, Izuku seemed to have decided that for the both of them.
"It's not your fault Bakugou-" He said tentatively.
"I don't want to hear it nerd, and it is, so just shut up"
"BUT IT"S NOT," Izuku's voice cracks like a prepubescent boy but continues without falter. "It's not. Look we're heroes things happen. We knew the likelihood of us being killed in our line of work since we were 15 years old, so don't act like this is just an unlucky situation we happened to stumble into. It was a choice; my choice and you need to understand that. I probably won't make it out-"
"Deku-"
"I'm not finished. I probably won't make it out but I'm going to try and you're not going to blame yourself whether I do or don't; got it?"
Bakugou just grunted and turned away from the Izuku's piercing glare. "Bakugou! Got...it?" He pressed.
Bakugou looked at his dying friend like it was the first time he was seeing him. Maybe it was. He saw the sadness in his eyes, but not for himself rather for those he would leave behind. He saw the look of determination as he spoke and the finality in his words, and he saw him. Not Deku, not a shitty nerd, not useless or quirkless, just Izuku. The man this world didn't deserve, the man that didn't deserve this world and its cruelty.
"O-okay...Izuku."
They both stayed down there for another fifteen minutes in complete silence. Neither looked at each other, neither spoke a word, Bakugou just held Izuku's hand in his while his other was still placed on his wounds, his shirt now completely soiled with blood. Bakugou thought about how useless it probably was at the moment, but he kept holding onto it, nonetheless.
They stay like that until Bakugou notices a shift. The hand once firmly clenched in his, is now limp to the touch. He can't, he won't, but he has to. He has to look over, to check, to confirm. He has to know whether the once so bright and full of life man he knew just that morning, was now dim and dull, cold and empty. Were his eyes open with something or nothing? Were they closed from exhaustion as he gave out on his body or were they shut from his body giving out on him? Would he have to tell Shoto his husband was gone because Izuku had to go and save him, or would he be able to say they were both alive and well?
I have to know.
Bakugou takes in a slow and shuttering breath, noticing once again how the room smelt, and why it had smelt as such. His neck turned slowly to the side like a horror movie jump scare, his hands trembled, and his veins felt full of air, chilled, icy air. Air that replaced the once warm liquid that pumped through him as his heartbeat increased with every passing moment. Air that now made him feel frozen and light, heavy and soft as he prepared himself for the worst.
He wasn't sure when or how long after that it happened, but suddenly Bakugou noticed a person drop down in front of him. Their back was faced towards the door as they crouched over Izuku's broken body. He looked up to see officers and heroes file in behind them through the now open entrance, every single one of their faces morphing into varying expressions all conveying one thing, horror.
He doesn't hear a thing, and he can't tell whether it's because of the maddening silence for when they all pause to take in the sight before him or because up until then he hadn't been listening and drowned out everything around him with the thought of nothing. How long have I been the only one to know of Izuku is dead, how long did I carry this burden alone? Maybe Hours, maybe minutes; probably not days, but somewhere between today and tomorrow could be possible he knows.
"Wake up, wake up," the man in front of him demands to a corpse.
Bakugou's eyes shoot up and focus on the other's face. He's not sure what to do, should he stop him and tell him what he already knows? That Izuku's not waking up because he's dead, as you would to a child when a grandparent no longer visits anymore? Should he let him continue to grieve, to foster false hope until that hope inevitably dies? Should he hug him or comfort him, should he say how much Izuku loved him, should he drag him away to scream and cry somewhere else besides over a mere shell of the person they once knew?
"W-why, why aren't you guys doing anything? Help him." He demands. Shoto starts frantically feeling for a pulse, after finding none he goes on to place his ear over a dead man's now purple face in hopes of feeling or hearing the sound of breathing. But like everyone but him already seemed to know, he found none. Then Shoto starts doing compressions, he stays relatively calm the whole time too as he does so, his initial outburst and shaky hand the only signs he's even remotely lucid. He quietly counts out every one of the pushes he does into his dead husband's chest, leaving the perfect amount of space between everyone as he was taught to do in emergencies by Recovery Girl.
"Shoto," he tries but no response or acknowledgment from the other boy is shown as he continues as if no one else is there but he and Izuku. "Shoto...Shoto...Shoto...SHOTO." He calls finally gabbing the other's shoulders and pinning his arms to his side startling him from his unresponsive state of panic.
"H-he's dead." He choked out through tears as the words tasted like battery acid on his tongue. "I'm so sorry, I tried to save him, I did, but...he was a hero up until the end and there was nothing any of us could do to change that." He replays the words over and over again in his head as he wonders if he chose the right ones. The right words to break to someone that the love of their life, the person they've known since high school, the person they married just over six months before, their best friend is dead. Had he told this man that the life he dreamt for them together till death do them part, would not come of old age like he surely dreamed but would be in the blink of an eye at the ripe age of 21?
Shoto stares into crimson eyes as the world spins around him, blurring in the corners of his vision. He doesn't hear the rest of what Bakugou said, all he heard was "He's dead." It can't be right how could that be true; this has to be a joke or a dream, no surely a nightmare. A fucked up nightmare that he's soon to wake up from. He'll wake up lying in bed right next to his loving husband, Shoto will explain his dream through tears and Izuku will tell him how it wasn't real and he is right there with him alive and well for many years to come. Because...this...This isn't how it's supposed to be.
But as he looks down at Izuku's bloodied, blister form, lying stiller than he's ever seen anything or anyone lay in his whole life, he knows the truth.
"Dead." Shoto repeats aloud but the words come out so quickly that he wishes he could have caught them as they fell from his mouth. "Why?" he asked anger coursing through his entire body and everyone in the room could see and hear that part, Shoto never lifted his gaze again to look at Bakugou.
"What?" Bakugou asked.
"WHY?" He asked again letting the words drip like poison from his lips hoping to kill whoever was the cause of his love's death.
"I-it was a trap; he saw it and I didn't, he shoved me out of the way and took the hit instead."
Shoto doesn't speak another word to any of them as he sits there and stares at the dead hero, husband, friend, his everything, he stares at the lifeless body in front of him. His pants and hands were soaked in the blood that had leaked onto the floor, but he couldn't give any less of a damn at that moment. Officers and pros scramble around him, none speaking or attempting to pull him away after they first tried when he lashed out like a feral cat being dragged away from its kittens. They finally did remove the body, but Shoto stayed unmoving, and no one knew what to do so they called the one person who might.
Aizawa came into the room to see Shoto sitting on his knees in a puddle of blood covered in it from head to toe. He crouched in front of a bloodied child, because yes to him he was still a child, they all were and one of his kids was just killed. He placed himself in front of Shoto as he continued to stare blankly at his bloodied hands in his lap. Aizawa wasn't happy with the fact that the team who worked on this mission called Izuku's husband into a potentially dire situation, one he would have been too close to to be any help for regardless. However, he couldn't think about that right now as he had to focus on mending some of the damage done, not praying for a time machine.
The two stayed down there, Aizawa talking to Shoto patiently as he tried to coarse him into leaving. It took some time but finally, the two stood up and made their way out of the warehouse and back to a car Shoto didn't recognize.
Bakugou watched them as Aizawa sensei led Shoto by his shoulder, probably because Shoto had no clue what was going on at the moment. Aizawa led him to his car where Hizashi sat in the front seat ready to drive them home when they got in. As they passed the ambulance Bakugou sat buddled in a blanket on the end of the truck, Shoto gave him a side-eyed glare as he passed.
His eyes were boiling with hatred, the kind he used to carry for his father, however now it was directed at him. He watched him get into the car with the two men and into the back seat without question, they pealed out and Bakugou knew one thing was true in that moment. Nothing is ever going to be the same.
A few days later the funeral was held. Their entire class showed up to pay their respects, class B came too and was actually considerate. Monoma didn't even taunt them for once. Izuku's and Bakugou's mothers came as well, they both cried and Mitsuki comforted Inko as she sobbed over the closed casket of the child, she would never see again. After the initial ceremony was held with all Izuku's friends and family mainly consisting of the entirety of UA, the press and civilians came for a separate memorial held for them to give their condolences as well. Shoto stayed for all of it.
In the end, he stared alone at the closed casket of his true love, it had begun to darken outside and the people in charge of lowering the casket to the ground were waiting for him to leave so they could do their job and go home to their own living families in their warm houses, with the life some many could only dream of.
It was a cool late autumn day, and the sky was partially cloudy through all of it, now however the sky was covered in large grey clouds that hung over the light that once beamed from the sun, similar to the way it did in lost soul mourned that day. It felt like it might rain or maybe snow, the chill in the air sunk into Shoto's skin like daggers and the breeze felt dry with moisture. Shoto remembered a time when Izuku had told him how right before it would rain or snow he could feel in the joints and hands, he wondered if he was still there, what his prediction for the weather would be today.
Bakugou decided to approach his friend's partner who stood across the cemetery in front of the beautiful mahogany casket, hand-crafted by a generous woodsman who donated it after hearing that the hero who had saved his daughter from a villain attack had passed. He slowly approached, planning out what he would say as he stalled for time to think with every step. However, as he arrived at Shoto's side he was at a loss for words as everything he had thought to say on the way there seemed wrong but not saying anything didn't feel right either.
"Shoto-" Bakugou said pushing every ounce of apathy into the name as he attempted to comfort the broken man next to him.
"It's Todoroki to you," Shoto said never once removing eyes from the casket.
"I just came here to tell you-" he started.
"I don't care what you have to say," Shoto replied coldly.
Bakugou paused and sighed as he tried to keep the flood of profanities from his head leaking into his mouth. He understood, he did. He had misplaced his anger almost his entire childhood on the one person who was his friend. He understood Shoto needed someone to blame or else all he would be left with was to blame himself because recognizing it was no one's fault would be too hard. However, Bakugou still wanted to try, try to show him what Izuku knew, what he had managed to convince Bakugou of before he died. Did he know Shoto would blame me, is that why he had to make sure I didn't blame myself too?
"You know it's not my fault right, you can blame me for now if it makes you feel better having someone to place the blame on, but I didn't fucking do it, and deep down you know it's true," Bakugou says much calmer than he feels.
"It is your fault," Shoto said slowly, venom lacing his words. "You knew you didn't have to worry about being careful with your own life because Izuku would do that for you. You always hated him, and I doubt you'll ever lose sleep over what you've done. But I'll tell you one thing Bakugou Katsuki, I hate you, I hate you with a burning passion, I never liked you I know what you've done but now...I loathe you and your pathetic existence." He spat out the words as he turned away feeling like he would at least have the last word if not his husband's life.
"Izuku wouldn't want you to be like this and you know it!" Bakugou calls out as Shoto begins to try and disappear into the distance. "He told me it wasn't my fault, yet I can't sleep at night knowing I might have been able to do more! You don't know me asshat and you never will, so fuck you and your hatred." Bakugou calls out causing those who still lingered in the cemetery to turn to them and watch the scene play out.
Shoto was only about ten feet away from him but instead of continuing to walk forward he turned back to the other and stomped up to him as he got in his face to say one last thing. "It is your fault, and you should lose sleep. I know what you've done you're not the victim here you're the bully. So go take a swan dive off the roof and hope to be a better person in your next life."
Bakugou watched Shoto walk away, walk away from him, walk away from his husband's wishes, and walk away from the peace they all once had. It would never be the same, Izuku's lack of presence would cause a rift between Shoto and everyone else and there wasn't much Bakugou could or wanted to do. He was grieving but they all were and the only one who could fix it was dead.