#even tho i logically know i should feel them sharp and slightly painful

[halinski]

.

[kaiunkaiku]

Welp, I wrote a fic | Ao3

Summary: Bakugou has a shit morning. Kirishima is a ray of sunshine. Aizawa does his duty as the unofficial father figure of the class.

Warnings: Implied PTSD, mentioned vomiting and nightmares, dissociation, chronic pain, my dialogue writing, also chaotic students. Some talk of trauma and therapy, reference to Todoroki’s bullshit family life

Enjoy!

Morning classes are no one’s favorites, except for perhaps Iida’s, but Aizawa, for all his hatred for the concept of doing anything before noon, doesn’t remember encountering this kind of a situation while teaching his current class. Mornings are, of course, in general quieter than the rowdy afternoons when the kids are fully awake, but he’s not quite used to the lack of annoyed grumbling, the occasional yell or the muffled, tired shushing that’s probably supposed to be discreet.

Instead, there’s only quiet whispering throughout the classroom, and a few glances thrown at the two empty desks. Aizawa is curious himself, and possibly a tad bit concerned, but maybe the kids are late.

The dorms being a five-minute walk away should have taken care of that problem, though. Of course he understands that sometimes students are late because of traffic or something he can conveniently put in the same category, but the dorms fixed even Kaminari’s perpetual lateness for the most part, and the majority of the class usually arrives in two or three groups.

If his memory serves him right, Aizawa doesn’t remember a single case of a student being absent and nobody bothering to notify him in the entirety of his teaching career. His students, especially in their first year, tend to be properly terrified of him at least enough not to skip class.

Then again, he still hasn’t expelled a single student from this class (although if it wasn’t for the current, inconvenient circumstances, Mineta would have been at least suspended a while ago for inappropriate behavior. He regrets not doing that at the beginning of the first year).

Right now, the empty seats of Kirishima and Bakugou seem to be glaring at him. It’s way too early for this, and maybe he could chalk it up to the boys being young and hormonal and in love, but Bakugou, despite his attitude and personality, is an exceptionally diligent student when compared to most of his peers.

But the possibility of them being late still stands, so Aizawa decides to give them a few more minutes to appear with a proper explanation and goes on to read Jirou’s argumentative essay on foreign language studying in elementary school.

He has three pages left, because this girl has opinions, when out of the corner of his eye he sees a shock of blonde hair approaching him with what looks suspiciously like a smartphone instead of a textbook or a notebook. Judging from the way Kaminari’s fingers fidget around the device and the slightly terrified look on his face, he’s well aware of the fact that phones are strictly banned in the classroom with the sole exception of searching information concerning an assignment, and this could very well end up with his phone in Aizawa’s desk drawer for the remainder of the day.

Aizawa does recall seeing Kaminari fiddling with his phone earlier, too – in fact, he can just as easily recall at least Sero, Ashido and Midoriya doing the same thing, with several of their classmates occasionally checking their phones. Maybe he should have done something fifteen minutes ago, but if no one falls asleep thanks to the blue light they keep staring at, he’ll forgive them before nine AM.

Looking at Kaminari’s anxious expression as he walks to the front of the class like he probably would to an executioner that hasn’t been given an order yet, Aizawa is starting to be fairly sure he won’t be seeing Kirishima or Bakugou in his classroom today. Behind Kaminari, a few other students are nervously glancing around and furiously tapping at their phones. Several phones vibrate simultaneously, telling Aizawa with certainty that they’re all screaming in their group chat. He briefly wonders what the thing is currently named, because he knows for a fact that at one point it was called Adopted by Aizawa and another Is nobody in this goddamn class straight (that one, Aizawa wonders himself, too, at times, but considering that he’s been in a relationship with a man for well over a decade, well, he supposes he doesn’t have much to say to that).

Kaminari’s phone buzzes, too, but he doesn’t even look at it, which leads to the logical conclusion that whatever the reason is for him to be bringing a phone to Aizawa instead of an exercise, it’s more important than what’s undoubtedly obnoxious, emoji-filled caps lock mess of “what the fuck are you doing” directed at Kaminari.

Deciding to give the kid a break, Aizawa sighs and looks up at Kaminari. He makes sure not to glare, because that would be counterproductive in this situation and just slow things down, and instead schools his expression into a neutral one.

“What is it?” he asks, not quite managing to keep the sleepiness from his voice. Kaminari glances down at his phone, the light of the screen briefly reflecting in his eyes, and then focuses his eyes on Aizawa’s face.

“Um,” Kaminari starts, already stuttering on the one syllable. “I, uh, well,” he mumbles, and his eyes wander somewhere behind Aizawa and then to the desk. Aizawa raises one eyebrow as Kaminari glances at his phone again. The rest of the classroom has gone silent – even the constant buzzing has stopped.

“Kirishima says Bakugou’s sick,” he then mumbles, words leaving his mouth fast and surprisingly quiet. “That’s pretty much all I can get out of him, but, I mean…” Kaminari drifts off, glancing nervously around again, and Aizawa is starting to suspect that he’s more afraid that Bakugou will blast through a window or a wall and continue on to blow up his head for even trying to suggest such a thing than he is of Aizawa confiscating his phone. “It’s gotta be pretty bad if he’s admitting it, right?”

Inclined to agree, Aizawa nods.

Kaminari is quiet for a moment, hands still fidgeting with his phone, and Aizawa looks at him expectantly. It’s still too early for this, and he’d like for Kaminari to continue if he’s going to. It takes way too long for Kaminari to take the hint before he clears his throat.

“So, uh, I figured I should probably tell you, since you’re the teacher and all, and, uh, yeah,” Kaminari continues, fidgeting. Aizawa almost feels sorry for the kid.

The rest of the class stares as Aizawa stands up from behind his desk. It’s unbelievably quiet, and while Aizawa appreciates them worrying for their classmates, he doesn’t really care for how obvious they are about it. They’re kids, of course, yes, but they’re also future pro heroes who should not look this concerned over what probably doesn’t warrant that level of concern.

It crosses his mind that he might not know something he probably should.

He straightens himself, taking note of his stiff arms – they’re always stiff, these days, and sore, and sometimes he can’t bend them properly – and sweeps his gaze across the classroom. Kaminari is still standing in front of him, fingers curled almost protectively around his phone.

“Iida,” he starts, and said boy snaps into attention immediately. “I’m stepping out for a second. You and Yaoyorozu are in charge.” Iida vocalizes his understanding and Aizawa knows he’s going to come back to absolute chaos because that’s what his class is. “Kaminari, back to your seat. If I see your phone again today, I’m confiscating it,” he remembers to say, and Kaminari scrambles back to his seat so quickly he almost trips over his own feet.

According to the security system in place at the Heights Alliance, the building is mostly empty, with the notable exception of two people in Bakugou’s room. The system is connected to his phone, as it is to the phones of all the staff members that deal with the students on a daily basis, and this is so much better than having the bots inform him of everything back when the dorms were still brand new. The bots are bitchy.

He sends a quick message to Hizashi to please go check on his class if he can find the time, and tells him to take every cell phone he sees even though he knows Hizashi won’t do it.

The walk is short, and Aizawa soon finds himself in front of Bakugou’s room. He knocks three times and hears footsteps from the other side, and then he’s facing messy red hair, wide, red eyes, and sharp teeth, making up one Kirishima Eijirou, who has no socks on and hasn’t styled his hair up.

The visible tension in Kirishima’s shoulders drains away as he recognizes who he just opened the door to, and his whole frame slumps in relief.

“Sensei,” he breathes out, before Aizawa has time to say anything. Then his eyes widen. “Oh, crap, I’m so sorry, I swear we didn’t mean to skip and we’re not doing anything stupid during school hours,” Kirishima starts, and suddenly he’s rambling in a slightly panicked way. Aizawa decides Kirishima isn’t in trouble for this.

“I just, I couldn’t just leave him here alone,” Kirishima continues, eyes flicking to where Aizawa knows the bathroom is. Then he freezes, and Aizawa cranes his neck to see what Kirishima is looking at.

There’s a digital clock on the nightstand, and Kirishima manages to whisper a soft “fuck” before he turns back to face Aizawa, eyes wider and now looking decidedly scared. “I swear I didn’t realize it was already almost nine,” he says in a meek voice, and Aizawa finally raises his hand between them to silence him. Kirishima’s mouth snaps shut.

“You’re not in trouble,” he says, and Kirishima relaxes. “Just tell me what’s going on. You told Kaminari that Bakugou was sick?”

Moving away from the doorway, Kirishima starts explaining as he lets Aizawa in. There’s a massive All Might poster staring at him.

“Yeah, uh, I don’t actually know what’s wrong.” Kirishima moves his hands helplessly. “He had a nightmare, which is nothing new, really, he has those, I have those, I’m pretty sure everyone has those," and oh, that's probably what Aizawa should have known but didn't, "but he was really out of it after, and now that I think about it he may have had a panic attack. And he was feeling sick, and so we’ve been camping in the bathroom since then. I think it was like five in the morning. He’s thrown up a few times,” he explains, hands fidgeting, as he nudges the bathroom door open with his foot.

Bakugou looks absolutely miserable.

He’s curled up to himself, hugging his knees to his chest, leaning on the wall next to the toilet, and he doesn’t even glance at the door when it opens, instead staring at a fixed spot in front of him. He’s wearing what looks like a Crimson Riot hoodie that’s a little too big on him, and his knuckles are white. The room reeks of sickness.

Kirishima sits down on the floor next to Bakugou, moving softly, and presses a kiss to his temple. “Hey there,” he murmurs. “I came back, you’re fine,” he continues, fingers settling to Bakugou’s hair, and on some level he reminds Aizawa of Hizashi. Bakugou doesn’t react.

Crouching down sends a twinge of pain from his knees to his hips, because today is apparently a shit day pain-wise, but Aizawa does it anyway. Being on eye-level with Bakugou, the kid looks even worse; his eyes are bloodshot and lips chapped, and he looks very pale. A quick check confirms that Bakugou isn’t wearing his hearing aids, so he digs his memory for sign language – he hasn’t seen Hizashi’s parents in a while, so he hasn’t  used  it in a while. He’s not exactly fluent in JSL, but Bakugou can hear something, so he’s going to make this work.

“Bakugou,” he starts, and fuck, the kid flinches. But the vacant look in his eyes clears, if just a bit, and Bakugou turns to look at him instead of the wall. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

Bakugou stares at him for a moment, a considering look in his eyes as if he’s trying to figure out something, and then swallows thickly. Kirishima hasn’t stopped running his fingers through Bakugou’s hair, and his previously free hand has slipped to hold Bakugou’s.

“I feel like shit and I want it to stop,” Bakugou croaks, tone detached and emotionless.

“Okay,” Aizawa replies, even though that did not answer his question. But Bakugou is clearly not lying, either. “I want to check if you have a fever, which means I’m going to touch your forehead,” he explains, trying to emphasize the words with a few key signs he doesn’t think he botches. He reaches a hand forward, but Bakugou interrupts him.

“I’m not sick,” he says, still without any emotion, but he sounds surprisingly convinced of this considering the unhealthy pallor of his skin and the fact that he’s been throwing up. Aizawa quirks an eyebrow.

“I’m going through some bullshit trauma response,” Bakugou continues, clutching Kirishima’s hand, “and it won’t stop.”

Which, okay, Aizawa can understand, because he’s been there, right down to describing the post-nightmare haze as bullshit trauma response when reality didn’t feel like reality and his body didn’t feel like his body. He can’t even imagine what it must be like to go through that at seventeen, because at the very least Aizawa himself was a proper adult and an actual, full-fledged, licenced hero with several years of experience when that particular brand of bullshit trauma response first hit him. Bakugou, on the other hand, is still a teenager, a student, a kid, and so is Kirishima.

He’s throwing Bakugou back to therapy starting tomorrow.

After the incident last fall, Aizawa made sure to force every single one of his students to sit down with a counselor. That lead to a few of his students agreeing to start therapy, and Aizawa keeps careful tabs on who’s going and how the rest of them are doing mentally; Bakugou quit at the end of the school year, Iida, Midoriya, Asui and Kirishima all sat a few sessions, Todoroki is still going, and if Aizawa is being honest, he doesn’t think Todoroki will ever get out of therapy. In any case, he does not need a repeat of a student having a mental breakdown and trying to kill a fellow student.

Looking at Bakugou now, Aizawa doesn’t think he’ll resist the idea too much.

Somehow, standing up is even worse than crouching down was. His knees protest, his ankles protest, his hips, his back, everything. It doesn’t matter, not right now. He’s an adult, and a teacher, and on duty.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he starts once he’s straightened up. Kirishima’s eyes snap up to him, while Bakugou continues to stare where Aizawa’s face just was. “I’m going to call the nurse’s office, and they’re going to send someone here to give Bakugou something to calm down. You’re both excused for the day,” he adds, because he figures Kirishima wouldn’t be able to concentrate in class anyway.

“They’re gonna sedate me,” Bakugou states bluntly, and there’s still the detached tone to his voice.

“Not if you don’t want to– “

“I don’t.”

“– but they’re still going to check you up to see if there’s something else wrong. Do you still feel sick?”

Bakugou nods slowly, and Aizawa resists the urge to sigh. The poor kid is in for a long day.

 XxX

Aizawa stays with the boys until a nurse whose name he doesn’t remember determines that Bakugou is dehydrated, exhausted, and indeed going through some bullshit trauma response; he’s damn near tachycardic, and apparently he’s been dissociating for hours. He won’t talk, so Kirishima provides information where he can – Bakugou still doesn’t seem to have a full grasp on everything that’s going on around him, not to mention what has been going on for the past few hours besides feeling horrible and confused.

In the end, the nurse gives him something to help with the nausea, and convinces him that a mild sedative is a better idea than continuing to feel like shit because he’s too wound up. Getting Bakugou up from the floor turns out to be the most difficult task, because he’s stiff as all hell and shaky on his feet. He doesn’t want to be touched, which is understandable but inconvenient, and once upright he wobbles and almost crashes into Kirishima.

Bakugou seems to fall asleep the second his head hits the pillow, and the nurse gives Kirishima some general instructions like keeping him hydrated and trying to get him to eat something, and tells him to call immediately if Bakugou starts getting worse or if his condition doesn’t improve in a few hours.

Finally walking back to the main building after reassuring Kirishima that yes, taking today off is fine and no, they’re not in trouble for not showing up to class, Aizawa swallows two painkillers dry and prepares himself for the mess that his class is likely to be when he returns.

 XxX

As expected, Aizawa comes back to absolute chaos.

Kaminari is draped over Sero in a vaguely disturbing angle. Midoriya and Todoroki are hunched over the former’s desk in what decidedly does not look like studying. There seems to be a dance party at the back of the classroom, attended by Ashido, Aoyama and Hagakure, with Jirou providing music. Iida and Yaoyorozu are both sitting at their seats looking defeated.

There’s a nice couch in the teachers’ lounge. He can take a nap there. It’s fine. Hizashi can do something about his class.