Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Katsuki remembers the day clearly. Too clearly.

It was a Thursday afternoon, 4:43 pm to be exact, and he was standing in his bathroom, flexing in the mirror like all teenage boys in their first year of middle school did. His eyes scanned meticulously over each divot in his arm, every line in his stomach, over the pudge that gathered in his thighs. Sure, he worked out, but he still felt weak, chubby. His mother always said it was baby fat, that he would grow out of it when he started doing hero work, but nothing settled the rapidly growing pit in his stomach every time he stared at himself for too long. His waist was so wide, and his arms looked weird at best. His face was—

The sound of a crackling explosion grabbed his attention, his gaze landing on his sparking palm. A tight scowl replaced his features as he hit his hand down against his bathroom sink once, twice, before leaning over the cheap material, staring at himself closer in the reflective surface across from him. His under eyes looked vascular and dark, his nose looked too long, his eyebrows too bushy and close together. He didn't even want to think about how fat his face looked. He felt like he wasn't looking at himself in the mirror, but he was. That was him.

Katsuki puked up his lunch minutes later, and for the first time in awhile, he cried, too disgusted with the mere thought of looking like that forever. He curled up in his bed, not even bothering to get under the covers, and quietly sobbed his eyes out as the images of himself flashed through his brain repeatedly, like a television stuck on replay. He stayed like that for awhile, curled up in the darkness of his room, eyes boring into nothing. Maybe an invisible stain on his wall, or a misplaced book on his shelf. He stared and stared until he heard his mother call him downstairs for dinner.

He wasn't sure what it was, but something in his brain snapped into (maybe out of) place that day. He grumbled something to the old hag about feeling sick, and went to bed an entire hour early.  Whether it was because of how tired he was from crying, or to avoid the thoughts about food in general, he wasn't sure, but he knew one thing for sure. He developed an eating disorder that day. Or, it was the day that he finally began to take initiative in trying to lose weight, to try and change his disgusting body.

Bakugou always woke up before the sun. He had done it since he was his 7th grade year, no matter the day, event the previous night or not. He always woke up at 5:30 am on the dot, and that was the absolute latest. He had overslept once in the 3 years that he had started the routine, and it had been due to the fact he was in Recovery Girl's office. He couldn't exactly do anything about it then, especially since he had been knocked out clean during training, and he definitely wasn't going to wake up to any type of alarm.

Today wasn't any different. His alarm rung approximately 3 times before he smacked a hand down over the clock, tossing his legs over the side of his bed as he let out a long, quiet yawn. He slowly stood and pulled his curtains back a tiny bit, cracking his windows open to let in some fresh air. His morning routine went as smoothly as it usually did.

He brushed his teeth, put on a pair of gym shorts and a loose hoodie, taking an extra minute to put on his running shoes. He grabbed his water bottle and stopped by the shared fridge in the dorm kitchen on his way out, filling the cup back up and taking a long sip to wake himself up farther. He had grown to be a morning person after having the same schedule for so long, but he still preferred to be alone. It let him focus better, and it let his temper sit at a flatline for at least an hour or two before it started spiking through out the day.

Katsuki's morning runs also gave him time to clear his head and properly think without the pounding voices of 19 other people in his ears all at once. They gave him a much needed break. He could focus on how his feet hit the ground one at a time, how his arms moved by his sides, how the sweat dripped down his back by the time he was done. The fact that he was stumbling because of how dizzy he was was a separate issue. Actually, it wasn't even really an issue anymore. He had gotten used to chugging a bit more water when his head spun, used to stopping and keeping his knees bent when he felt like his legs were going to give out. It was all normal to him now, so it wasn't a problem. Not really, anyways.

After not almost passing out on the track, he dragged himself back up to his room, ignoring the few people beginning to gather in the kitchen that called out "good morning"'s to him. He pulled his nasty clothes off his body and rinsed the sweat and grime off of him, letting the warm water fall down his body a bit longer than normal. He felt weird today. He felt good, really good, actually, but at the same time, oddly faint. It didn't exactly feel like he was going to pass out, or like the weird euphoria he got after purging, but something different. He felt lighter. Good.

Bakugou turned the water off after washing his hair and body off, wrapping a towel around his waist and pausing in front of his mirror. His abs were more visible now, and he could see his ribs beginning to push against the skin of his abdomen. He felt a swell of pride at that, but something still felt off. Maybe it was just because he always looked weird, or because he physically didn't really know what he exactly looked like anymore. He stared at his own image so much that things started to morph without him noticing. Whether it was his waist seeming wider for seemingly no reason, or his stomach looking like it was sticking out, even when he could feel that it wasn't. His arms seemed fatter sometimes too.

He blinked himself out of the small trance when he realized he had subconsciously been leaning closer to the mirror, taking a step back with wide eyes. He looked... normal. He was still him. He wasn't fat. He looked better. He wasn't that fat kid anymore.

Katsuki towel dried his hair and tugged his uniform on, ditching the tie on his bed. It made his neck look weird anyways. He grabbed his backpack and his phone, slipping the device into his pocket while he slung the bag over one of his shoulders. He felt dizzy. He was nauseas. It was fine. It was a good thing. It meant he was in control, that he was disciplined. Fasting was discipline, and he had discipline. He had control. He was in control of his body. 40 hours was nothing. He could go longer. He needed to go longer. He was disciplined, and he was in control. Fasting wasn't shit, it was just another part of his daily routine. It was fine.

Classes were ass, like usual. He kept himself attentive through studying by chugging his water bottle two entire times, and had to stop by the bathroom during each and every class change to piss. It wasn't unusual. Drinking a lot of water meant his bladder was not going to be the happiest with him.

The real shit show started when they got told they were training today. Not by themselves either. With a partner of their choosing. Once they had all changed and made their way to the training gym, his eyes searched the crowd of students for a particular red head, but he was no where to be found. A small scowl pushed its way onto his features, but before he could ask anybody where the damn boy was, he felt a hand land on his shoulder, an out of character flinch making him step forward. He whipped around, and low and behold, there he was. Kirishima. Standing there with the absolute dumbest grin on his face, his hair spiked up in that stupid style he tried to convince him to change every time he saw it.

"Hey man, are you trying to—"

"Shut up. Come on."

Katsuki cut the man off before he could even finish talking, stomping his way over to an open spot in the gym with a huff. He heard Kirishima pad behind him quickly, hearing him yap on about something he didn't really care to listen to.

After they both had a minute or two of stretching in relative silence—sub the red head trying to ask him about his day, which he only grumbled a half-assed response to— they started training.

It started relatively normal, just a bit of hand to hand, both of them throwing punches and kicks. Bakugou's hits, usually precise and calculated, lacked both of them elements today. Maybe it was just an off day. Yeah. It wasn't because of his fast or anything, because he fasted all of the time, and he was just as meticulous most of the time during those. It was just an off day. That was all it was.

It wasn't until they started fighting with their quirks did it really begin to show. His blows were hardly doing shit to Kirishima's unwilling composure with his hardening, and he swore to god that he could feel him holding back. What the fuck?

"Why the fuck are you holding back shitty hair?!"

He shouted, lips twisted into a snarl, his eyes sharpened into a glare. That question seemed to throw Kirishima off of his train of thought, because when his arms opened slightly, as if it was instinct to defend himself with his whole body instead of just words, Katsuki lunged froward and grabbed onto his wrist with the tightest grip he could manage. He twisted his body and pulled the males arm over his shoulder before slamming him down into the padded ground below them, a shit-eating grin on his face. Bakugou placed his hands on his bent knees and let his head hang forward for a moment to cure the overwhelming wave of dizziness before standing back up straight, getting back into a fighting position as he saw Kirishima begin to stand back up as well. When his mouth opened to speak, the red head beat him to it.

"I'm not holding back, Bakubro! Maybe I'm just finally catching up to your power level!"

The boy grinned as he spoke, and Katsuki wanted to punch him straight in those dumb shark teeth for it.

The next ten minutes went by in a blur. They threw more hits, more punches and kicks, and Bakugou ended up getting Kirishima on the ground two more times before they were in the last 5 minutes of class.

Their last fight was going fine, and even if he felt a bit winded and light-headed, that was normal after extensive training. It wasn't because of this stupid fast—

"Hey, why weren't you at breakfast this morning, man? It's the most important meal of the day, you know!-"

And with that, Katsuki hesitated on his next hit. The result was getting the same treatment that he had given Kirishima earlier. A hefty slam into the ground, which knocked the wind out of him so fast that he couldn't even sit up for a few seconds after, too busy trying to get oxygen back into his lungs. God, he hadn't been this dizzy in ages.

When he felt a hand on his shoulder, he blasted it off, standing up too quickly and having to hunch right back over, air flooding his body as he took deep breaths. In through his nose, out through his mouth, in through his nose, out through his mouth—

"...ugo. Bakugo! Hey, are you okay? My bad, didn't mean to slam you down that hard-"

God, his ears were ringing so loudly. He shot a glare at Kirishima, distantly hearing Aizawa telling them to come on, that training was over. He had never walked away faster.

Katsuki changed quicker than he ever had in the locker rooms, putting the UA uniform back on and feeling like he was being suffocated by the collar. He slung his bag back over his shoulder and grabbed his phone out of his locker, his head whipping around when he felt the presence of someone behind him. He wasn't even surprised to find Kirishima behind him. What he was a bit confused to see was how... worried he seemed. His brows were furrowed a bit, he was picking at the invisible hang-nails, and his teeth were digging into his bottom lip so hard that he looked like he was going to tear the skin at any moment.

"What the hell do you wa—"

"I'm sorry about training today! I over did it with that throw, and if you need to go to Recovery Girl or anything, I can definitely—"

"Shut up."

He pushed past the red head, accidentally shoulder checking him as he walked. If Kirishima could injure him that easily, then it was Bakugou's fault for not being strong enough. If he wanted to become number one then he needed to get used to training without food. What type of hero was he if he couldn't go a few days without eating? Training shouldn't be a problem. It wasn't a problem, today was just an off day. It was an off day, and he would get better. He could be better, he always could.

When Katsuki got back to his dorm a few minutes later, he discarded his bag onto his desk, throwing his phone on the charger beside his bed before undressing and getting back into the shower. He felt off. He felt disgusting. He was losing himself if he let Kirishima beat him so easily, if he hesitated by being asked such a simple question. He wasn't at breakfast because he didn't need to be. He didn't need to be filling his body with meaningless calories. If he waited long enough, then he would stop feeling hungry. Eating now would only ruin his progress. His stomach gave a long rumble in response to his thoughts, to which Bakugou subsequently sparked an explosion in his palm that was quickly extinguished by the shower water. He finished washing off and avoided his bathroom mirror as he dried, pulling on his baggiest t-shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants. He couldn't bear the thought of wearing something form fitting now.

He flicked his light switch off, the sound of the small click making his mind go blank for a moment. Bakugou set the alarm on the clock beside his bed—5:30 like always— and then crawled under the covers, wrapping the blanket around himself and curling up into a tiny ball. He was fine. Today was just an off day. He hadn't binged, hadn't even broken his fast, and he burned a good amount of calories during his run and training. He was disciplined. He was in control. He was fine. He was starving, and that was a good thing.

Katsuki fell asleep with only one thing on his mind for tomorrow: watch the hours of his fast go up, and see the numbers on the scale drop. It was addicting, and he'd be damned if he let shit get in his way.

Chapter Text

It started off subtle, things hardly out of the ordinary. An extra hour or two of training, longer runs, shorter, smaller meals. Eijirou had assumed it was perhaps a diet, even though Bakugou was already fairly slim. It wasn't weird for heroes to go on diets. Maybe he was cutting. That would make sense. Even if it wasn't the healthiest thing to do, he seemed to be doing alright in classes and training exercises still. It was okay. Or, that's what he used to think.

The changes began to grow more noticeable when he came down for breakfast in the mornings. Every day, he would watch the blonde walk in from his run, and skip the kitchen completely, instead going straight up to his room. He understood wanting to shower before eating breakfast, but he never came back down until it was time to leave for class. Eijirou tried to pass that off as well as just something Bakugou did. Some people got nauseas if they ate in the mornings, others just didn't want to. He would have found that reasonable if he didn't hear the boy's stomach growl later in class, or if he didn't notice him looking oddly pale for having just run a few miles. 

It was today that shifted things for him.

Eijirou woke up at 6:30 in the morning after pressing snooze on his alarm clock twice, but eventually pulled himself out of bed with a long yawn. He brushed his teeth and showered like normal, blow drying and styling his hair into it's usual up-do after getting dressed in his uniform. He slipped on his socks and shoes, remembering to put on deodorant right before he left his dorm. After gathering his things, he headed to class, giving more than a few glances towards Bakugou when he saw how unwell he looked. Weird. Maybe he was sick and showed up to class today anyways. He could talk to him about it later.

Class went by like normal, and for their last period, they were assigned general partner training in the gym. Kirishima was more than happy about that. Partner training meant he got to build his quirk strength and agility with Bakugou.

After changing and heading down to the gym, he saw the blonde that he had been thinking about standing among the group of his classmates, a smile coming up to his lips as he walked up behind him. Eijirou placed a hand on Bakugou's shoulder, pulling it back quickly when he saw him flinch. Huh. Bakugou didn't usually do that. Maybe he was just sick. Hopefully that was the case.

"Hey man, are you trying to—"

"Shut up. Come on."

Eijirou was cut off before he could finish speaking, but it wasn't that big of a shocker. Bakugou was known for being a little snappy, and he had grown used to it after being his friend for a while. He smiled as he walked behind the boy, arms crossed over his chest.

"I'm so excited! I feel like we haven't trained together in forever, man. Think I'll finally beat you today?"

He joked, laughing at himself. He blinked a few times when Bakugou didn't answer, instead clearing his throat and beginning to stretch.

"Uh, how's your day been?"

Kirishima got a vague grunt in response, a small sigh slipping from his lips in return. Maybe the blonde didn't get a lot of sleep last night. That would explain his overly snappy attitude today.

He finished up his quick stretching routine, cracking his knuckles and looking at the man across from him with a grin. Their sparring started fairly normal, but Eijirou noticed one thing in particular. Bakugou seemed... slower. Sluggish, even. His movements weren't as clearly planned, and that showed when he missed three hits in a row. Weird. He didn't seem all that well still. He looked pale and maybe even a little bit feverish, and the red head could swear he saw him trembling a little. Maybe he hadn't eaten lunch.

"Why the fuck are you holding back shitty hair?!"

The words snapped him out of the small trance he had been in, his arms falling from their position slightly. That was apparently the biggest mistake he had ever made, because in the blink of an eye, he was getting thrown over Katsuki's shoulder into the floor, his breath escaping him for a few seconds. He coughed several times as he stood back up, but his same usual grin returned to his face quickly.

"I'm not holding back, Bakubro! Maybe I'm just finally catching up to your power level!"

Eijirou laughed, catching the punch the boy threw at his face for it. He fought with him for another ten minutes, and by the time they were on his last fight, he was getting a bit tired. Despite it, he pushed through, ducking and maneuvering out of the way for each attack. His mind began to wander back to this morning, and after dodging a kick from Bakugou, he perked up.

"Hey, why weren't you at breakfast this morning, man? It's the most important meal of the day, you know!-"

He saw Katsuki hesitate, and took that as his opening. He grabbed his arm and twisted around, throwing Bakugou to the floor and laughing.

Eijirou opened his mouth to speak, but it quickly snapped shut, his grin disappearing faster than it ever had before. Katsuki looked bad. Was he okay? The first thought that crossed Kirishima's mind was a question. Had he gone too far?

He reached down and gently placed a hand on Bakugou's shoulder, yelping when it was blasted away. He watched as the blonde shot up to his feet, his brows furrowing when he saw how badly he was struggling for air.

"Bakugou. Bakugou! Hey, are you okay? My bad, didn't mean to slam you down that hard-"

He looked towards the exit of the gym when he heard his teacher call out to them, but his gaze landed back on Katsuki just as quickly. He didn't look well. He wasn't well. Something was seriously wrong, and Eijirou knew it wasn't just a seasonal sickness.

Things after that went quickly. Eijirou walked back to the locker rooms after Bakugou had left, and on his way there, he noticed a slight stinging sensation in his hand. When he brought it up from the side of his body and inspected the back, he found an angry, shiny red burn covering the majority of the top of his hand. It wasn't anything worse than a first degree, but it still hurt to bend his fingers. Katsuki had done that when he blasted him off. Oh. He would have to go to Recovery Girl for it so it wouldn't limit his quirk use in his hands.

He pushed open the door to the changing rooms and dropped his things by his locker, his eyes travelling to a familiar blonde on the opposite side of the room. Maybe he should...

Kirishima walked up behind Bakugou, chewing on his bottom lip when the boy turned around.

"What the hell do you wa—"

"I'm sorry about training today! I over did it with that throw, and if you need to go to Recovery Girl or anything, I can definitely—"

"Shut up."

Eijirou froze, staring at Katsuki for a few moments. He wasn't shocked. Bakugou said things like that often to everyone, including him, it was just the way he sounded so—

He stumbled slightly when the boy bumped into his shoulder, turning and watching as he walked out. He gave a small glance around at the other people that were still in the locker room, but they all seemed to be busy in conversation, or too focused on getting changed and going back to their dorm.

He was going to offer to walk Bakugou to Recovery Girl, but leave it up to that boy to be stubborn. That was one thing Kirishima had noticed after being his friend. Katsuki Bakugou was stubborn, and even if he spoke out when things outwardly bothered him, he was absolutely awful at talking about his emotions and personal well being. He didn't think he had ever once heard the blonde complain about a physical illness, or a mental one. He seemed strong, resilient because of it, but Eijirou felt like something else was going on. He knew something was going on, but the only problem was that he had absolutely no clue how to help.

Eijirou changed back into his hero uniform and stopped by Recovery Girl's office on the way back to his dorm, playing the injury off as a training accident. Technically, it did happen while they were training, but he wasn't exactly sure it was an accident. Maybe Bakugou had just been disoriented. Maybe he hadn't meant to hurt him, hadn't meant to push him away. Maybe.

He rinsed off quickly in the shower once returning back to his room, flicking the lights off after setting his alarm. When he laid down in bed, he stared up at the ceiling, his body telling him to sleep—especially after being healed by Recovery Girl's quirk— but his mind running to fast for him to properly settle into a slumber.

Katsuki wasn't okay. He knew that full and well, and even if he wasn't exactly sure what was wrong with him, he knew something wasn't right. Maybe it was something with that diet he had going on. Maybe it wasn't a diet. Maybe it—

Kirishima's eyes widened a bit at the thought. Would Katsuki have something like that? Eijirou knew that— that eating disorders could effect anyone, but Bakugou? It seemed so out of character for him. He seemed to live a healthy life style. He got up earlier than everyone in the building, did a run every morning, and he had a very strict workout routine on his days off of school that he didn't let anyone mess up. Oh. Maybe that had been a sign all along. Maybe skipping breakfast every morning, disappearing at lunch, falling asleep too early for dinner, were also all signs that Eijirou had so foolishly missed. He felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner. He didn't want to jump to conclusions or anything, but the longer the stared up at his ceiling in thought, the more things began to click.

He had friends with eating disorders when he was in middle school. He had known people with bulimia, anorexia. It didn't change how he viewed them, or how he treated them, but it was important to know so he could provide support, and even more crucial that the person effected got help besides just their peers. And if Eijirou knew one thing about Katsuki Bakugou, it was that he didn't ask for help from anyone. Not his friends, not his parents, not his teachers. Nobody. Maybe he could ask Midoriya if he noticed anything like this while the two were in middle school together. He could just subtly bring it up to see if there were any signs, any confrontations or attempts made to get him help before. Yeah. That way, he could see if he was just jumping to crazy conclusions or not. He didn't want to seem insane going to up to Bakugou and asking him about something as serious as an eating disorder.

Eijirou had one thing on his mind as his body forced him to drift off to sleep: Get Katsuki Bakugou help.

Chapter Text

It had just started to get cold outside, and Izuku had already taken full advantage of that fact.

His wrists to his elbows ached with each movement, but he didn't care. It was just another part of this fucked-up life. It was just another thing that he had to deal with, but it was also the main thing distracting him from all of the pain. The emotional, mental pain that ate away at his sanity every passing moment.

That day he had been planning to jump. To finally climb up to the rooftop, place his shoes by the steps, hop up onto the edge of his school building, and take a step into the empty air. He had his letters written, his texts scheduled to send to the few friends he had, and he had deep cleaned his bedroom before leaving for school that morning. Everything had been so perfectly mapped out, so meticulously organized down to the minute, that he felt an odd sense of peace when he got to class that day. That didn't happen a lot, if ever. He usually felt like he was one fire alarm away from having a heart attack with how stressed he was.

He didn't even look up from his notebook when he heard Kacchan and his friends yell his nickname from across the class. He kept his head buried in his hero studies, finalizing things the best he could before they would never be touched again.

Izuku ate his entire lunch that day—not just an apple or some water like usual— and even got a strawberry milk to top it all off. That day had been nearly perfect, and it left him satiated as he walked towards the rooftop.

He ended up stopping by the bathroom on his way up, his bag hitting the tile floor as he stepped in front of the mirror. He saw one of the stalls at the end of the row closed but didn't think much of it. He didn't really have it in him to think about anything besides his impending demise.

Midoriya splashed a bit of cold water under his eyes, his brows furrowing together at the nearly permanent dark circles there. He had gotten a good eight hours of sleep last night, but that wasn't going to fix over a year of a messed-up sleep schedule. He let out a small sigh, grabbing his bag off the floor and slinging it over his shoulder as he looked in the mirror once more. He fixed his hair slightly, but he knew there wasn't much he could do to make it look any better.

Then he heard it. A faint, but noticeable sound coming from the closed stall. Gagging. Splashing water. Izuku's nose furled for a moment on instinct, his own gag reflex nearly being triggered at the noises. He hated puke in all ways. He thought he might have even had emetophobia at one point.

The toilet flushing snapped him out of his stupor, and his head snapped over when he heard the stall creak open.

Kacchan.

The blonde boy froze for a second, then another, before an absolutely horrified look crossed his face. His eyes widened, his pupils nearly instantly shrunk, his face paled lighter than it already had been, and to put it simply, he looked scared. Izuku's lips opened to speak, but Bakugou beat him to it.

"If I hear a single word about this, you're fucking dead, nerd."

Bakugou huffed, leaning over the sink closest to him and rinsing his mouth out with cold water before stomping out. Midoriya stood there in a momentary state of shock for a few moments before glancing at the stall, the sink Katsuki had used, and then back into his own mirror. The pieces seemed to lay themselves perfectly into place within the matter of a minute.

He had noticed how Katsuki had started to skip lunch or how he would always find a convenient excuse as to why he couldn't eat. He saw a teacher pulling him aside one day before they left for the cafeteria, and the boy had seemed pissed when he walked away. That day he ate lunch but disappeared into the bathroom while they were changing classes. Izuku had tried not to think anything of it, attempting to convince himself he was just making a crazy assumption, but then things kept happening. Signs continued to show more clearly, and alarm bells were ringing in his head every time he picked up on one.

Katsuki had an eating disorder. Or, at least, that was what Izuku thought based on the things he had observed.

He didn't put a label on it until now, or he at least didn't want to think of it like that before now, but everything made too much sense. The skipping meals, the excuses, the puking—well, "purging" was the right word, what had just happened. It was all so blatantly obvious that Izuku was confused as to how nobody else had noticed yet. Maybe he was just too focused on the small details that nobody else usually picked up. Izuku had always been too observant for his own good.

He didn't kill himself that day. He walked out of that bathroom and broke down in tears when he saw his mother and confessed everything he had been planning to do, as well as everything he had already done to himself. He didn't do this for no reason. No, far from it actually.

Izuku Midoriya promised himself one thing that day: he was going to get better so he could help Kacchan.

He had not helped Bakugou. It had been nearly two years since that incident had occurred, and Izuku had not said a single word to the fiery blonde about it.

At first he blamed it on not being fully healed yet, on not being able to handle the mental strain of carrying another persons burdens on top of his own. But then he got accepted into UA, and his life changed for the better so quickly that he then started trying to excuse it with the fact that they were both busy, that the boy might have just not been eating because of stress or because of a lack of time. It was a lie. Izuku knew he still had disordered eating habits. If anything, he had started to get worse once they got to UA. 

The truth was that Izuku was scared. He was terrified of ruining the small relationship he had started to build with Kacchan, and he feared that if he tried to bring up his eating habits, than it would make everything fall apart. He might have been selfish for it, but he couldn't both of them back in a bad place in an attempt to get Bakugou help. He knew it wasn't right to keep ignoring it, but he truly had no idea what to do.

That was until tonight.

He hadn't been thinking about Kacchan in particular, but when Kaminari walked in with a bunch of take out from the hibachi place down the street, his mind instantly wandered to the boy. Hibachi was one of his favorite foods. Plus, it was relatively healthy when prepared correctly, so maybe, just maybe he would come down and—

Midoriya's thoughts paused when he turned and saw a familiar blonde walking down the stairs and towards the kitchen, his heart nearly stopping. He had to grip onto his plate tighter to realize that he was about to drop it, and quickly went and sat down at the island so he didn't look like a complete idiot.

Even though he tried not to stare, he couldn't help but glance up from his food as Bakugou got his food. It was a relatively normal sized portion, and something in Izuku's heart felt a bit lighter at the sight. He knew the boy was still disordered, knew that he didn't just magically recover, but a part of him was glad the blonde was at least getting one filling, balanced meal.

He watched Katsuki stand in the corner of the counters as he ate, and he made a decision he hadn't dared to do in years. He got up, walked over, and hopped onto the countertop across from him, plate still in hand, a smile on his face.

"Hey, Kacchan! Enjoying your dinner? I love the place Kaminari-kun gets the hibachi from, it's so good."

Izuku hummed, taking another bite. Katsuki didn't seem amused. In fact, he stopped mid-bite, before setting his chopsticks down on his plate with a clink. His fingers closed around the edges of his dish, but Midoriya spoke before he could pick it up.

"Kacchan. Please eat."

He whispered. It wasn't meant for the others to hear, wasn't meant to draw attention to either of them. Just a silent plea, one that carried more weight than three words usually did. Izuku's head was tilted down towards his own plate, his chopsticks trembling a bit as he picked up another piece of chicken. He didn't want to ruin this, he didn't want to kill what had barely just begun to grow—

"Fuck off, Deku!"

Katsuki shouted. The volume made him flinch, and it made several people turn their heads towards the two of them. Before the boy could storm off, Izuku put his plate down beside him and hopped off the counter, his hand latching onto Bakugou's wrist.

"Why are you being like this, Kac—"

A clatter and a blast was heard, and Izuku let go of Bakugou's wrists to cover his own face barely in time to avoid the brute of the explosion. By the time the small amount of smoke cleared from the space, the blonde was around the corner and half way up the stairs, practically sprinting to leave, to get away from whatever the hell that situation just was.

Izuku was left with small burns up the sides of both of his arms, and there was ash on the side of his face. He slowly turned his gaze to the countertop and found a broken dish, half a portion of hibachi spilled all over the oven right beside it. He didn't dare to look over at his classmates. He could feel all of their eyes burning holes in the back of his head.

His hands landed on the side of the counter as he leaned over, sucking in a shaky deep breath. He wasn't going to cry. Katsuki was always like this—

No. He wasn't. He was always a bit stubborn and snappy, sure, but recently he had been worse. So much worse. It was like every single thing ticked him off, and Izuku wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. Bakugou was doing such bad damage to his body, yet, Midoriya felt like he couldn't do anything to aid him. He felt utterly helpless.

The next hour or so went by in a blur. Izuku had begun cleaning up quietly, but Todoroki came over to help after a minute or so. He also walked him back to his room and helped treat the small burns on his arms, to which Midoriya thanked with a gentle hug and a wave goodnight.

He wasn't sure what to feel right now. He felt upset because of what Kacchan had done, but he really couldn't stay mad at him. He wasn't well—mentally or physically. Even if that wasn't an excuse, it was an explanation that Izuku clung onto like a buoy. He did realize one thing as he got ready for bed, though.

He couldn't do this anymore. He wasn't giving up on Katsuki, it was just—

Izuku needed to take a step back, or talk to a teacher about this, or something, because he knew he was doing more harm to himself than he was doing good for Katsuki trying to solve this alone

As Izuku crawled into bed that night, he turned on his rain machine to quiet his mind. He would figure this all out tomorrow, after everyone cooled down from the situation—especially Kacchan.

Chapter Text

This was fucking stupid.

Well, that's what Katsuki thought at least.

It had been a shitty day at best. His schedule had been the same as any other school day, but he felt like he was a quick step away from passing out and cracking his skull open. Yesterday during training had been absolutely humiliating, and he hadn't spoken to the shitty hair since. He had sealed himself away in his room the second that classes were over, and he was quickly beginning to realize just how awful he felt. He had fasted long periods of times before, sure, but that had been in middle school, when he wasn't required to do general training for one of his classes. It was Friday now, and if he really wanted to, he could continue fasting through out the weekend, but he knew he had to keep his workout routine consistent, and it was going to be a lot worse if he passed out doing a simple lifting routine.

Fine. He could eat, and then restrict over the weekend since he would be burning off the calories anyways. That was fine. It was fine.

Katsuki dragged himself out of bed, gripping onto the side of his desk when his head spun and his vision blurred momentarily. He took a deep breath before slipping on his house shoes, swinging open his door and stopping in his tracks when he was not met with his hallway.

Aizawa stood before him, hand raised as if he was about to knock, face as tired as usual. The man put his hand down when Bakugou's face twisted into a small scowl.

"What?"

He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and acting like he didn't feel his head pounding at his skull like a jackhammer.

"I was watching you and Kirishima train yesterday."

Katsuki felt his breath catch in his throat.

"You're hesitating. That's new."

Aizawa raised an eyebrow, his hands resting in his pockets, but his shoulders less slouched than usual. He looked bored, but attentive nonetheless. The older man let out a sigh before speaking again.

"What—"

"I'm fine. It was just a damn off day."

Bakugou grumbled, his foot bouncing in place under him. He was fine. It was just an off day. His fast wasn't an important thing to factor in. It was just another thing he did, it wasn't a key factor to his power.

He watched as Aizawa stood there, eyebrow raised, arms crossed now as well. When Katsuki pushed to the side and stepped out, closing his door behind him, his teacher grabbed the back collar of his shirt. The blonde turned with a glare, a huff escaping him.

"If I see that again then you're sitting out."

Katsuki stared at him for a beat, then another, and two more, before he turned, walking away down the hallway with his hands shoved in his pockets to hide the shaking in them. He didn't need to be put to the side like a weakling for a damn seconds hesitation. Aizawa didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

Katsuki smelled the hibachi from the stairway. He could place the exact restaurant it was from in seconds, and his theory was proven correct when he walked around the corner and saw the food being displayed on the kitchen counter. Healthy enough. Maybe it wouldn't mess up his stomach so bad after fasting for so long.

He waited until he saw everyone get their food, not bothering to look where everyone had sat down. He wasn't planning to stay down here. He just wanted to get this over with and then go back upstairs.

Bakugou grabbed a plate from the cabinet, putting a portion of food on his plate that seemed much too large for him. He contemplated putting some back, but that would just make shit obvious. If he couldn't finish a simple plate of his food then that was pathetic. He was pathetic.

The first bite of food made his stomach growl for more, even if he knew he couldn't eat too much right now. It would make him feel worse if he ate a bunch, and he had learned that from experience.

Every bite after that filled him up faster, making him feel nauseatingly full despite only having ate about half his plate. It hurt deep, clawing it’s way through his heart and down to his stomach, settling low in his gut despite there feeling like there was no more room. He felt so absolutely nauseated at even the mere thought of any more food, that he distantly wondered if he actually had a stomach bug or something, and not just a crippling eating disorder. Maybe. That would rationalize his stomach cramps, but he always got those after breaking a fast that lasted a bit longer than intended. It was normal. It was fine. He was fine.

He shakily grabbed another piece of chicken with his chopsticks, his stomach churning as he did. He didn't need anymore. He didn't know why he was still eating.

As he brought the piece to his lips, a figure hopping onto the counter across from him made him pause. Deku.

"Hey, Kacchan! Enjoying your dinner? I love the place Kaminari-kun gets the hibachi from, it's so good."

Katsuki stared at him for a moment, then another, before he dropped the chopsticks back down onto his plate, giving the boy a glare. As his fingers closed around the edge of his dish, he heard it. A whisper, so faint and shaky he nearly didn't catch it.

"Kacchan. Please eat."

Who the hell did Deku think he was? Bakugou's lips twisted into a scowl, and his brows furrowed deeply.

"Fuck off, Deku!"

He shouted, not even thinking about the fact that their classmates were sitting merely ten or fifteen feet away. Izuku flinched so hard that it nearly gave Katsuki flashbacks to middle school. He turned on his heels, plate in one hand, when he felt a hand grip his wrist.

"Why are you being like this, Kac—"

Katsuki reacted before his mind could fully catch up to his actions. He dropped his plate onto the counter where he had been going to set it down, and with his other hand, he set off a mild blast. He hadn't meant to, it just—

He was half-way up the stairs in a seconds, his legs pushing him with what little energy he had just gotten from that meal. Bakugou pushed open his door and slammed it shut behind him once inside, gripping the side of his desk so hard he thought the wood might splinter. He was losing it. He was going fucking crazy. He never accidentally set off a blast like that, no matter how emotionally charged he was feeling or how out of it he was. What the hell?

Katsuki remembered that he had lungs after a few more seconds of pure panic, sucking in breaths like he had nearly drowned. He stumbled over to his bed, sitting down on the edge and trying not to focus on how disgustingly full he felt. He had reacted the same way with shitty hair. At least he had a reason as to why he blasted the boy away last time. He had been disoriented, not fully aware of his surroundings. He hadn't been scared, it was just— He needed a second to ground himself.

Whatever the hell had just happened was different. He reacted violently because... he didn't know. His body had reacted before his mind could even process what the fuck was happening. He had made an explosion because he was so out of it. Shit.

Bakugou's foot started tapping against the floor rapidly, his leg bouncing, as he thought. This eating disorder—which, he didn't even know why he called it that, it wasn't that serious, he just wanted to look better— was so fucking stupid. All of this was stupid. He had even been called out by his damn teacher for being so pathetic. He was starting to get weak. 

He wanted to vomit at just the thought, but it was so painfully clear. Being so off during training, the random explosions, the dizziness, the dropping test scores. He was becoming ineffectual. Weakness was what it costed to be in control. That terrified him more than any binge, fast, or purge ever had.

For the first time in what felt like years, Katsuki cried. 

When he woke up the next morning, his head was pounding, and his eyes felt sore after crying for so long. He got out of bed and brushed his teeth, staring at his puffy under eyes in the mirror. He looked like shit, but he felt more grounded. He didn't feel normal, because his normal had become an empty stomach and a blurry field of vision, but at least he felt alive again.

He pulled a hoodie on, as well of a pair of gym shorts, grabbing his water bottle and making his way down stairs through the early darkness.

When he headed towards the door, he reached for the handle, but paused when he saw something stuck to the wood frame beside it. A protein bar.

Katsuki stared at the item for a few seconds before snatching it off, tearing the tape off that had been stuck to the frame as well. It was vanilla, conveniently one of the only sweeter things he ate. When he turned the bar around to see how many calories were in it, he froze.

Right over the nutrition label was several stark black lines, seemingly made with a permanent marker, covering any numbers that would have usually been visible. Below that, in the same black marker, was a scrawled name in a handwriting Bakugou knew all too well from afternoon studying sessions. "- Eijirou" was written under the black box of lines, the dots on the i's uneven in placement, the o too big compared to the rest of the letters. Katsuki scoffed in disbelief, his grip on the protein bar tightening slightly. Damn shitty hair. 

As the blonde walked out of the building, he tore open the protein bar and ate it while on his way down to the track. He was going to burn the calories off anyways, and he still had his workout later today.

Katsuki did his morning run with ease, not wanting to admit that the protein bar had helped fuel him. He had even gotten an extra mile.

Instead of going back to his room, he made his way to the schools gym, not surprised to see that nobody else was there yet. A lot of students went home to visit for the weekends, or did fun activities with their friends, but Bakugou had the same schedule on Saturday's, sometimes Sunday's as well if he wasn't busy studying.

He stretched, worked his upper body, then his lower body. Every Saturday, for 3 hours, that was his routine. The rest of his day was spent studying and doing homework, and after finishing school work, he usually scrolled on his phone, or did another run if he still had the energy. It had been that way ever since he got to UA, and it only ever changed if he went to go visit his parents, which wasn't that often.

Sunday's were a bit more lenient. He would spend the mornings studying, and then usually go see whatever his classmates were doing if he was feeling up to deal with their bullshit. Sunday's were quirk training days as well. He would head down to the training gym and practice his special moves, as well as just trying to get longer endurance without losing control of his explosions.

Katsuki liked having a set schedule. It made things easier in general, and it gave him control over his life when everything else felt like it was falling to shit. It wasn't that things fell to shit often, it was just—

A schedule was something secure, something that didn't change on the random. Or, it didn't change for him at least. He didn't plan things for the weekends, and if he did, then it was always on Sunday. Saturday's were reserved at all times. That was just how his schedule worked.

This Saturday was no different. He went to the gym, stretched, did upper and then lower body, and then trudged his way back to the dorms for a shower so he could study without smelling like shit.

Except, this time, when he stepped back into the Heights Alliance, he was met with the sight of a familiar red head sitting on one of the lounge's couches. Kirishima had his laptop propped up in front of him on the coffee table, two different notebooks open to his side, and a textbook flipped to the middle with a bunch of different annotations on the page.

Katsuki froze when he saw Eijirou's head pop up, and he glared at him when he saw that stupidly big smile appear on his face.

"Bakubro! You're back! Hey, uh, I know you might be busy, but—"

"Are you seriously struggling in fucking english?"

Kirishima paused for a moment before his smile turned sheepish, and a hand came to rest against the back of his neck.

"Hah, well, uhm... Yeah. Think you could help me?"

Bakugou stared at the boy for a few seconds before scoffing, walking past the living room and towards the stairs.

"I need to shower."

He tutored Eijirou enough to the point where it was more weird if he refused to help him at this point. Besides, he was going to study anyways, so it didn't matter if it was with shitty hair or not. Yelling the problems at the boy helped him remember them better anyways.