Chapter Text
Shouta should have expected this.
With all the shit these kids were put through, he expected a breakdown at some point.
He just didn't think it would be this.
"Wha-"
"Katsuki's almost unconscious and I don't know what to do we're in his dorm please-"
It was Kirishima. Shouta jumped out of bed, the look of terror on his face enough explanation for Hizashi to do the same. They rushed to the dorms, grabbing jumpers and keys in their well-practiced but as of yet unnecessary emergency routine. He had hoped against hope he'd never have to use it.
"I'm on my way. Any signs of injury?"
Kaminari evidently grabbed the phone, as he spoke next, sounding dangerously calm.
"He took all the pills in the medecine cabinet. He's been drinking. He's thrown up most of it. I've called emergency services."
"OD, Bakugou." Shouta half-yelled at Hizashi.
He remembered their faces. Pale, worried eyes peeking out from cracked doors, the sharp, short breaths, the silent questions he couldn't answer. He remembers the devastated look on Kirishima's face, the uncharactaristically calm, quiet orders from Kaminari, Ashido's blank staring, Sero's silent, fearful shaking as he collected the numerous pills and packaging strewn across the bathroom floor. He remembers the worried glances, the stares, the silence. He remembers the heartbroken look on Hizashi's face.
But those were nothing compared to when he saw him.
The strong figure lay limp in Kirishima's arms, the sickly, half-dead look on his face a sight that made Shouta's stomach turn and his knees feel weak. The scents of tears and sweat and traces of vomit hung in the air, but it didn't matter because nobody there could breathe properly anyway. Nobody coul bring themselves to even speak anymore; the terrible mix of dread and horror sent a hush over the group. Everyone here was terrified.
But Shouta was an adult. A hero. So he took the half conscious Bakugou in his arms and wordlessly fled
.
Bakugou's skin was hot and dry, his breathing rapid and shallow. The paramedics welcomed him, anxious, determined faces that had seen this all before.
He sat in the ambulance, holding desperately to the fact that Bakugou Katsuki was strong, that he was alive, that he would win.
"Please, Katsuki. Please stay alive," he whispered - he pleaded, "Please win."
That was undoubtedly the worst day of Shouta's life, and Shouta had seen some fucked-up shit.
***at the dorms***
Hizashi remembered watching Shouta leave, a heavy weight in his chest.
He remembered turning to face the eerily quiet group of children. Ashido. Sero. Kaminari. Kirishima. Shouji. Uraraka.
"Is anyone else injured?"
They shook their heads.
"Does anyone know what he took?" Hizashi said gently, trying to sound calm and collected. He had to be their support right now. Kaminari silently pointed to the bathroom, Sero almost finished clearing the floor covered in empty packaging and spilled medecine.
"Go to the common room. I'll tell everyone what happened, you don't have to."
Hizashi remembered going to find the most qualified person to deal with the horrible task of telling the other students what happened; Tsu. Shouta had said to call her in an emergency.
"Bakugou overdosed. We don't know if he'll be okay. Please help get everyone to the common room and run a register. Avoid Midoriya finding out, I need to tell him myself."
A horrified gaze met his eye before agreeing. It broke his already shattered heart even further.
Hizashi remembered feeling sick.
Hizashi and Tsu told eeah and every student what had happened.
There was just one left. Midoriya.
Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.
"Midoriya?"
The door was flung open after a little shifting. Piercing green eyes met his. They widened in worry at Hizashi's dejected expression.
"Is it a villain? Is everyone okay? Why are you-"
"It's Bakugou. He's on the way to the hospital now - h-he overdosed."
"K-Kacchan..? N-no.." hot tears dripped from freckled cheeks, but the kid wasn't sobbing. He looked crushed. All the usual optimism and hope was gone - Hizashi hoped it was buried, and not destroyed.
He remembered softly reaching for the child's wrist, tugging him to the common room, where he found a cluster of utterly miserable hero course students. Utterly miserable children.
Hizashi had sent pictures of all the different medecine Bakugou took, then handed the stuff to the second ambulance.
"Is everyone here?"
"Yes."
"Does anyone have anything they want to say or ask?"
Hizashi had expected questions. He had expected to have to answer children who asked 'will he be okay?'. But today really was full of surprises.
"Shit. Fuck. Crap. For fuck's sake, Kacchan, you better stay the fuck alive," Midoriya cursed, muttering a longer list of expletives, "Damn you, Bakugou Katsuki, you fucking asshole, we need you, so stay alive."
A collective agreement hung in the air.
Please, Bakugou. Please be okay. Please stay alive. Please, please win.
This was the worst day of Hizashi's life. And Hizashi had seen some fucked-up shit.
And now, they were here. In the hospital. 19 kids, 2 adults. Waiting room 5.
It's 5am.
They haven't eaten. They haven't changed, or brushed their hair.
There are no tears, no screams, no questions. It feels like everyone is just holding their breath.
Bakugou Katsuki is draped limply across stark white sheets, attached to various machines. Nobody knows if he'll survive.