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Hitoshi drags himself through the hallway, not thinking about how much farther he’ll have to go, but just focusing on the fact that he’ll arrive at the kitchen eventually.
The kitchen where Bakugo will be—not waiting, because he denies doing shit like that—and where Hitoshi will get to slump over the table and listen to Bakugo rant about whatever bullshit the Bakusquad pulled now and like that Hitoshi won’t have to think about his foster parents, or his aching ribs, or the fact that soon all of this will be over, or that he hasn’t slept in almost two days.
He won’t have to think about any of that, if only he can make it to the kitchen.
Hitoshi refuses to admit that his eyes almost burn with relief when he sees warm light shine in the hallway because he’s so, so close and he can even hear Bakugo shuffle around already which only makes him pick up the pace.
He’s too tired to remember quite how this started, their late night meetings and subsequent talks, but Hitoshi has never been more grateful for a anything in his life because even though it means his and Bakugo’s sleep is shit it’s also some kind of refuge for the both of them.
Hitoshi finally manages to enter the kitchen, immediately engulfed in the smell of whatever delicious thing Bakugo is baking now and he makes a beeline for the table.
Bakugo peers over his shoulder before he goes back to whatever it was he did before but he does snark out a “Took you long enough, zombie face”.
Hitoshi can’t find the energy to answer him, so instead he simply slumps over the table, barely managing to plant his ass in the chair in the first place.
He only lifts his face out of his folded arms when something is being put down in front of him and it’s to come face to face with a steaming mug of tea.
“Thanks,” he mutters, as he wraps his hands around the mug, leeching its warmth and shuddering when it dips too close to burning.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” Bakugo declares as he sits down next to Hitoshi, his own mug in his hand and Hitoshi squints at him. These 4am talks are really taking it out of him, even though he wouldn’t trade it for the world. “We’re going to play three rounds of rock, paper, scissors.”
“For what?” Hitoshi blinks in confusion, because this is not part of their almost nightly routine.
“If you win, I’ll drop it,” Bakugo goes on as if he hadn’t heard Hitoshi. “When I win, you’ll tell me what the fuck’s been going on with you the last few days.”
Instantly every barrier Hitoshi has ever created for himself comes slamming back up and he sits up, leaning away from Bakugo, schooling his face into casual disinterest.
“Nothing’s been going on with me,” he coolly gives back and Bakugo snorts into his tea.
“Wanna try that again? You’re not a very good liar, sleep-deprived as you are, so cut the bullshit. Something’s going on and you’re destroying yourself over it, so you’re going to spit it out and then we’ll handle whatever bullshit is putting that look on your face.”
Hitoshi huffs out a weak laugh. If only it were that easy.
“You sound awfully confident. What if you can’t fix it?” he asks, aware that he’s already admitting that there’s something broken, but by now he knows Bakugo well enough to know that he’s not going to drop this.
“Then we’ll find someone who can,” Bakugo gives back with a shrug and Hitoshi can’t help how his thoughts turn to Aizawa.
But this is probably not something he can fix, either.
“I could just go back to bed and not play your stupid games,” he says instead of acknowledging his thoughts and Bakugo gives him a mean smile.
“We’re stuck in the dorms together. How long do you think you can dodge me, huh?”
“Considering I’m going to be an underground hero, this might be good training for me,” Hitoshi gives back and enjoys the anger that flashes over Bakugo’s face.
It’s always a good look on him. Not that there are bad looks, but—Hitoshi forces himself to concentrate on the tea in his hands.
“Considering I’m going to hunt down villains, it might also be for me,” Bakugo shoots back and even though Hitoshi knows he doesn’t mean it like that, didn’t even imply that he thought of Hitoshi as a villain, he can’t help but to flinch.
Bakugo notes it with a frown but before he can say anything else, Hitoshi cuts him off.
“Fine, we play your stupid game. You know I could just take control of you and make you lose on purpose, right?”
“And live with the shame of that? You’re better than that.” It’s said tauntingly, as if Bakugo wants to rile him up some more, but in all honesty, it only makes Hitoshi feel warm all over because it’s not often that people assume he’s good. At all.
“Come on then,” Hitoshi grumbles and holds out a fist, ready to get this over with.
He doesn’t allow himself to think about what he’s going to do if he loses, because that way lies madness, but a cold shudder runs down his back when Bakugo grins at him. There’s not even a reason for him to be this cocky, because this is entirely up to chance and Hitoshi doesn’t understand how Bakugo can be so confident as to think he’ll win this.
“You ready?”
“Bring it.”
They each shake their fists three times before Hitoshi holds out his flat hand only to find Bakugo sticking out two fingers.
“Scissors beat paper,” he smugly says and Hitoshi glares at him.
“Again,” he demands and Bakugo only smirks.
They shake again and this time Hitoshi goes for rock himself only to be faced with paper from Bakugo, who seems too goddamn pleased for Hitoshi’s taste.
“You cheated,” Shinsou accuses him even though there’s no way for him to have done that and Bakugo doesn’t even grace him with an answer for that.
“Now tell me what the fuck’s been going on with you,” he instead says and Hitoshi opens his mouth to argue some more before all the energy suddenly leaves him.
He doesn’t want to argue, not here, not at this time of night, not with Bakugo and if he talks now it’s not like he’s weak for giving in, for whining, right? Bakugo won fair and square and Hitoshi is only upholding their bet.
“Fine,” he mutters under his breath and slumps back over the table, burying his face in his arms again, because he might talk, but he doesn’t have to look at Bakugo while he does it. “My foster parents are going to pull me out of this school,” he admits and he feels Bakugo freeze at his side.
“Why the fuck would they do that, now that you’ve finally made it to the hero course? Shouldn’t they be proud of you? You beat the fucking odds after all.”
Hitoshi lets out a derisive snort at that.
“Proud right,” he gives back. “Proud enough to lay in on me more, maybe, claiming it’d be good training to get beat up regularly,” he bitterly says and then goes right on before Bakugo can say anything to that. “It’s not the kind of foster family that does being proud. They took me for the money. I’m still marked as high-risk, so they get three times the amount of money for agreeing to foster me. They are scared that I’ll get myself killed with all the villain attacks and then they couldn’t cash in for me.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“That’s some fucked up bullshit,” Bakugo finally says and Hitoshi snorts. What a way to sum up his life. “They beat you?”
Hitoshi shrugs, which his ribs don’t thank him for, but he’s not about to let Bakugo know that. Even though he already seems to know, going by the way his eyes drop to Hitoshi’s middle.
“Why not ask for help?” he then wants to know and Hitoshi can’t help the bitter twist of his mouth.
“Yeah, right. Because anyone with the power to actually be able to help is going to believe the brainwashing, volatile orphan. I don’t have a good track record with authority figures.”
“You do know that the caterpillar would help you, right?” Bakugo wants to know and Hitoshi clams up at the mention of Aizawa.
“He’s busy enough already. Why would he care about any of that?”
“You’re so goddamn fucking stupid,” Bakugo breathes out. “He cared enough about all of us to risk his life for us two days in. He took you in as his personal student, course he’s going to fucking care. I bet you that he’s going to drop whatever he’s doing to help you.”
“It’s the middle of the night. He’s probably asleep and you know how he likes his sleep.”
“And I’m telling you he’d be down here in seconds for you,” Bakugo shoots back and Hitoshi blinks, slow and sluggish.
“What would you know,” he finally settles on and startles when Bakugo leans down, so he can properly look Hitoshi in the eyes.
“I asked for help,” he admits after a moment and it’s surprising enough that Hitoshi only stares at him. “The hag, she’s—it’s not easy at home. Not like for you, but—anyway, I told him about that and now she can’t pull me out of school for stupid reasons anymore, because U.A. has partial custody over me."
“What? They can do that?”
“I mean, it’s a bit different cause the hag agreed to it, signed some shitty paper or whatever, but yeah. And I think it can’t hurt to ask, you know. Maybe they can help.”
“That’s surprising, considering it’s you,” Hitoshi says, mostly to give himself some time to think.
“Fuck you. I learned to ask for help. It might not be easy but that’s just another hurdle to overcome, right?”
That is such a Bakugo thing to say that it makes Hitoshi laugh, though he tries to stifle it into his arms.
“Fine, I guess. I’ll tell Aizawa tomorrow.”
“You won’t,” Bakugo says and then takes out his phone and dials a number before Hitoshi can leap at him.
It rings two times before the call is picked up, accompanied by a grunt.
“We need you in the kitchen,” Bakugo says. “It’s Shinsou.”
“Coming,” is the only answer he gets and Hitoshi doesn’t like that self-assured, smug look on Bakugo’s face when he hangs up.
“Told you,” he says and Hitoshi burrows his face back in his arms.
If he doesn’t come out then he can’t see and then he won’t have to deal with any of this and that hopeful thought lasts as long as it takes Aizawa to enter the kitchen and snap out a gruff “What’s wrong?”
A small part of Hitoshi hadn’t believed that Aizawa would come down here in the middle of the night, just for him, without any kind of explanation and he blames his tiredness for the way his eyes burn when he feels a careful hand on his shoulder.
“What’s going on?” Aizawa asks again, a bit more gently this time and Hitoshi is still trying to find his voice when Bakugo speaks up for him.
“His foster family is shit. They are abusing him and they are going to take him out of U.A. Do something about that, would you?”
Aizawa is clearly taking that in because for a long moment it’s silent and then “Hitoshi?”
“What he said,” Hitoshi finally mutters, because he’s tired and he can’t find the words anyway and Aizawa’s hand on his shoulder briefly tightens.
“Okay,” he says and when he offers nothing more a desperate laugh builds up in Hitoshi’s chest.
Of course that’s it. Of course there is nothing else, because just like he knew there will be no help for him.
“So what the fuck are you going to do about it?” Bakugo spits out and the following silence is heavy, making Hitoshi believe that Bakugo and Aizawa are engaging in a weird eye-contact conversation so he doesn’t overhear anything.
Maybe he should just drag himself up and away, so they don’t have to jump through hoops for him.
“Every teacher at U.A. is required to keep their foster license updated,” Aizawa eventually says. “We’re all equipped to foster any of our students, should the need arise. I’m going to call Tsukauchi to get an investigation into your foster family started and until anything is decided U.A. is going to take emergency custody of you. You’ll be removed from your current foster family and placed with someone new.”
“Funny you think that’s going to solve anything,” Hitoshi mutters and feels Bakugo and Aizawa freeze. “’s not the first shitty family, won’t be the last.”
“Yes, it will be,” Aizawa says, suddenly sounding that much more determined. “Hizashi and I will foster you.”
“Present Mic?” Bakugo blurts out and Hitoshi raises one hand to point at Bakugo, indicating another ‘what he said’.
“Been married for ten years, no one is going to believe you,” Aizawa drawls out and Hitoshi turns his head just enough to see Bakugo struggling to come to terms with that revelation, while Aizawa looks decently amused.
“Why?” Hitoshi brings himself to ask and Aizawa seems to understand that he doesn’t mean his marital status because his face softens the tiniest bit as he looks down at Hitoshi.
“Cause it’s you, kid,” he simply says and Hitoshi closes his eyes against the tears again.
He can’t believe that it’s that easy. He can’t believe Bakugo was right about this.
“Go back to bed, the both of you. I’ll get the process started. If your foster family tries to contact you, ignore them or forward the calls and messages to me. You’ll be required to talk to Tsukauchi but that can wait until you’ve gotten some sleep. Do you need to see Recovery Girl?”
“’s not like she can do shit, I’m beyond exhausted,” Hitoshi admits and Aizawa klicks his tongue.
“She’s still a regular nurse, too. If there are injuries that need to be tended to, she has the training for that as well. So. Injuries?”
“Bruised ribs, it’s fine,” Hitoshi mutters and can almost imagine Bakugo’s eyeroll.
“You’re an idiot,” he mumbles under his breath and Hitoshi would like to argue with him, but he doesn’t have the energy for it.
“Then go to bed, I don’t want to see either of you in class tomorrow,” Aizawa instructs them and then simply leaves them be.
Hitoshi thinks he’s just going to stay right here, because he’s tired and exhausted and the way to his own dorm room is way too long, he can totally sleep like this, but of course Bakugo hates him with a passion because he kicks the chair Hitoshi is sitting on.
“Oi, eggplant, get up and go sleep in your bed,” Bakugo hisses at him and Hitoshi spares enough energy to flip him the finger.
“I’m not moving,” he says into the table and Bakugo heaves out a sigh.
“I can carry you,” he offers and then seems to catch himself because he quickly tacks on a “It’d be good weight training.”
“Sure,” Hitoshi gives back and manages to lean back in the chair. “But I don’t actually want to be alone. Someone’s bound to be up soon, so I’ll stay right here.”
Bakugo looks at him as if he’s gone insane and for all that Hitoshi knows he might have, too, but then Bakugo pokes a finger into his side and Hitoshi almost falls off his chair.
“Then get to the fucking couch already, gods, are you fucking stupid? No one sleeps in a chair like that.”
“Have you seen the positions Aizawa sleeps in?” Hitoshi gives back as he picks himself up, mostly to be contrary, but also because arguing with Bakugo like this is bound to keep him up until he can reach the couch.
“Just lay the fuck down, will you?” Bakugo snaps, already at the couch, a blanket in his hands and Hitoshi wonders if he’s going to suffocate him with that and then decides that he doesn’t care.
He knows being unconscious doesn’t count as rest, but he’ll take whatever he can get at this point. Hitoshi gracelessly face-plants into the couch and then refuses to move again, though he does blink open an eye when he feels the blanket being tucked around him.
“Thank you,” he whispers, when Bakugo continues to fuss with the blanket and it earns him a piercing glare.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, now shut the fuck up,” he orders but instead of leaving like Hitoshi half feared he would, he simply sits down right at Hitoshi’s head, arms defensively crossed in front of his chest.
It’s adorable, is what it is, and Hitoshi almost chokes when that thought passes his mind, so he tries his best to keep things on track.
“You might have learned to ask for help but you really need to work on accepting gratitude,” he informs Bakugo, who narrows his eyes at him.
“Well, thank me enough and maybe I’ll get on that,” he shoots back and Hitoshi allows himself a small smile.
“Do more nice things for me and maybe I will,” he says quietly, voice only audible because it’s otherwise silent in the room and he expected the silence that followed from Bakugo, too. What he did not expect was the whispered “Okay”.
It's uncharacteristically quiet coming from Bakugo but Hitoshi doesn't mention it because he already feels as if he has pushed enough but he can't help the fond look he tries to hide in the blanket and then he doesn't even try to stop himself when he wiggles around on the couch, shuffling closer to Bakugo until he can press his forehead to his thigh.
He half expects to be shoved off but when nothing happens he lets out a happy little sigh.
“Yeah, like that. Thank you.”
“Oh, fuck right off,” Bakugo grumbles but when he slides his hand into Hitoshi’s hair it's to lightly scratch at his scalp and not to tear him away and Hitoshi melts into the couch with a happy little hum.
“Just go the hell to sleep,” Bakugo softly says, scratching even more intently at Hitoshi’s scalp and surprisingly enough Hitoshi does exactly what Bakugo told him to do.