Chapter Text
Black billowing smoke overtook the sterile chamber, thick clouds rolling in from no singular direction encroaching on the blonde man. Agitated amber eyes scan the benches around him, looking for a source of the flames amongst his flood of research notes and beakers. The edges of his lab coat begin to blacken. He stares at the charring white fabric with unfocused eyes. The wailing of approaching sirens pierces the pounding heartbeat in his ears. Shoulders hunched, he turns for the exit, resigning his life’s work to the flames.
The red lights of the firetruck illuminate the pull of his lips into the slightest snarl, his narrow amber gaze staring at the third-floor window showcasing glowing fingers of the flame dancing in the darkness. A mist encasing the brilliant red hue of the sirens, escaping the violent jet of water assaulting the jagged window panes distorting the image of the building beyond.
Bakugou has never been the amenable sort of human, leaving him with few friends and a never-ending supply of inconvenient questions. He has always been the over-analytical toxic perfectionist sort. Sure, he can admit that to himself.
And yes, a bit of a stubborn bastard, too.
This is why he picks apart the scene around him for a rational explanation to the unnatural phenomena surrounding him despite his life’s work quite literally turning to ashes before his eyes.
The red mist may twist the image, as he squints at the building, but one thing is clear… The flames beyond the mist are untouched by the assaulting water surge, flickering like the kind of cozy campfire you find on one of his mother’s sappy Christmas movies. Undisturbed.
So far, Katsuki Bakugou knows three things:
1. He had no open flames in the lab today. Certainly no chemicals to withstand an assault of water of that caliber.
2. Only his lab coat is singed, and his street clothes beneath, including the thick rubber soles of his boots, are completely unscathed.
2.a (not that he particularly minds not having to fork out the money to replace them, and absolutely is he already planning to take samples from them later)
3. Why the hell is no one concerned about the screaming coming from the cleared building?
Pulling his gaze from the window, his eyes scan the pockets of firefighters in the dimly lit parking lot.
Leaning against the furthest firetruck, a portly man has a drop of liquid escaping from the can of the energy drink down his chin onto the thick reflective uniform jacket, chief stamped into the metal plate on his helmet indicating him to be his target.
Turning on his heel, Bakugou pushes off to head straight to the source. Lungs expanding with the caustic air in preparation to demand answers for the distinct lack of action to stop the piercing screams rattling his teeth.
Familiar hands brace on either of his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin, turning him away from the chief before Bakugou had a chance to protest.
“Woah, where you going?” Bakugou struggles against the familiar hands. “You need to be getting to the ambulance to be checked out already. Bakubro, we can’t work out after my shift if you’re not cleared.” The lopsided grin of his best friend only enraged him further, as his brow pulled down in confusion. These people may be incompetent, but Kirishima wasn’t. Bakugou would not have wasted a decade of his time on him if he was.
A terse reply of “Chief” was the only explanation given to the concerned firefighter as Bakugou fought the firm grip. Shoulders straining, Bakugou twists to dislodge the larger man. The smile faded from Kirishima’s face, dark eyes flitting across Bakugou’s expression. A proper snarl escaped Bakugou’s throat, “The screaming, Kiri! Why is no one going in? Why is everyone standing here?”
Bakugou didn’t see the fear creeping into Kirishima’s eyes as he struggled to look around his friend’s massive form to get to the chief.
Tone allowing no room for argument, Kirishima spoke, “Ambulance. You need the ambulance.” Those strong hands now pushed him gently but firmly away from the scene. In a low voice, Kirishima muttered, “You were the only one in there, Bakugou. It’s two in the morning, and your assistants went home hours ago.”
Nostrils flaring, Bakugou froze. Ten years of trust crumbling, as a screeching plea from the building sent a shiver rolling down his spine. Kirishima came closer to his ear, muttering in a low voice, “There's no one screaming, Kat.”
As his mind raced, Bakugou’s body became pliant under his friend’s hands, who continued pulling him towards the awaiting medical crew. The medical crew in question hovered by the open double doors of their vehicle, watching the blonde with wary expressions.
The further the distance from the fire, the louder the screams rattle in his head. His stomach twists with a sour sickness at the terror lacing the cries for help.
Furious amber eyes scan the crowd of dispatched professionals around him. Wide eyes and furrowed brows stared back at him. Still, no one spared so much as a glance toward the smoldering building.
Kirishima’s lowered voice continued with vague reassurances, “It’s just a trauma response, Bakugou. Just shock. Nothing to be ashamed of. Let’s get you over to get checked out. I know you’ve been not the best mentally lately, completely understandable.”
Bakugou’s shoulders relaxed further, triggering a lighter grip of Kirishima’s hands. “There we go, Bakugou. It’s going to be fine,” Kirishima breathed with stark relief coating his voice.
Relaxed and prepared, with only a tinge of guilt for his best friend, Bakugou ripped away from Kirishima.
Stripping his ruined lab coat as he sprinted through the crowd of stunned firefighters, Bakugou squinted into the murky threshold of his building for the best route before coming to a quick decision. Kirishima’s terrified screams harmonized with those escaping the building until all Bakugou could hear was his own singular repeating thought as he descended into the opaque darkness of billowing smoke before him.
If no one else is willing to save him, I will.