Chapter 47

₊˚⊹✷ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎
⤷ the craziest thing i’ve seen all week.

ODA HAD BARELY NOTICED it was Sunday, so waking up to no alarm was strange for him, though what happened that morning was arguably worse. His body had sunk deep into the mattress, the medication still heavy in his veins in that way that made the world feel distant and muted, like he was floating just beneath the surface of consciousness. The room was warm in a way he wasn’t used to, heat pressed against his back and side, and for a fleeting, blissful second he thought he might actually get to sleep in.

That illusion shattered instantly.

It wasn’t one of Bakugo’s nightmares that roused Oda out of his warm, restful sleep. Nor was it an alarm, or even the quiet ambient sounds of the dorm waking up around them.

It was the sound of the door bursting open.

“Okay—before you kill me—Kirishima wanted to know if you wanted to train since you missed all week. We were gonna ask Oda too but I can’t find him. Also, who doesn’t lock their door? That seems like a poor choice.”

The voice crashed through the room like a flashbang, loud and cheerful and completely unfiltered, and at the sound of his name Oda startled fully awake. His body reacted before his mind did, muscles jerking as he pushed himself upright slightly, heart slamming violently against his ribs. The warmth vanished all at once, replaced by cold panic as he rubbed at his eyes, trying to clear the fog from his vision.

“The hell…?” he slurred out, still half asleep, the word tumbling from him before he could stop it.

His hands dropped away from his face.

And his eyes locked with Kaminari’s.

The moment stretched, thin and fragile, before shattering under the weight of realization. Oda’s breath caught painfully in his throat, lungs refusing to work for a split second as understanding hit him all at once.

Oh no. No. No. No.

“Huh..?” Kaminari froze in the doorway, one foot still half inside the room, his posture awkward and uncommitted like he wasn’t sure whether to advance or retreat. 

He squinted at Oda, head tilting slowly to the side, confusion creasing his face as his brain struggled to catch up with what his eyes were telling him. The pause dragged on just long enough to be unbearable before Kaminari’s gaze drifted away, sweeping the room.

The sleek furniture. The aggressive All Might poster. The unmistakably Bakugo-shaped mess that absolutely did not belong to Oda.

Then Kaminari looked back at him.

His eyes widened. His mouth fell open. And he just… stared. “…Uhhhhhh.”

Oda could only stare back, equally horrified, his mind going completely blank. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. No sound came out. Every possible explanation tangled itself into an unusable knot in his head, and his body felt suddenly too heavy, too real, like gravity had doubled just to spite him.

Then, from the bed beside him, came a groan.

Low. Sleepy. Irritated.

Oda’s stomach dropped straight through the floor.

Oh fucking god, please fucking no.

Bakugo shifted, rolling slightly, his voice thick with sleep as he muttered, “Who the fuck?”

Time slowed to a crawl.

Oda watched it happen like a slow-motion train wreck he couldn’t look away from. Bakugo blinked blearily, eyes unfocused as they dragged across the room, and then landed on the open doorway. On Kaminari. 

And then the moment hit him.

Bakugo’s eyes widened sharply, red snapping fully into focus, and a tiny, involuntary squeak forced its way out of his throat before he could stop it. His body went rigid, every muscle locking up at once like someone had hit a pause button.

For a heartbeat—two, three—the entire room was frozen solid.

Oda sat upright, frozen in place, pulse roaring in his ears. Bakugo stared, stiff and wide-eyed, mid-wakefulness suspended in pure horror. And Kaminari’s head slowly moved back and forth between them.

Oda. Bakugo. Oda. Bakugo.

Each turn made Kaminari’s eyes widen further, disbelief piling on top of disbelief until it was almost impressive how far his face could stretch.

“Ah, hmm, okay, right, uhhh,” Kaminari finally let out, the sounds tumbling over each other in a rushed, panicked mess. He cut himself off with a sharp clearing of his throat, then another, forcing his voice deeper, steadier, like that might somehow salvage the situation. “Sorry to interrupt.”

And then he was gone.

He spun on his heel, bolted down the hallway at full speed, and the door slammed shut behind him with a resounding bang that echoed through the room long after his footsteps disappeared.

Silence rushed in to replace him.

Absolutely catastrophic silence.

“Shit.” Oda let out.

—and all hell broke loose.

“You dumb. fucking. moron—get back here before I kill you!” Bakugo barked, his voice detonating through the room as he tore the blankets away from himself with hands that were already beginning to spark and smoke.

“Wait, Bakugo—” Oda started, the words barely out of his mouth before chaos fully erupted.

Bakugo did not, in fact, wait.

He surged forward off the bed in one explosive motion, intent written into every sharp line of his body, but Oda’s reflexes kicked in faster than thought. His hand shot out and caught Bakugo by the ankle just as the blond tried to step past him, fingers locking tight. The sudden resistance sent Bakugo pitching forward off-balance, and he went down hard with a yelp, hitting the floor with a loud, unmistakable thunk.

“Fuck—!” Bakugo snarled, the sound cutting off as another curse followed, then another, punctuated by small, uncontrolled explosions that popped against the floor and scorched the edge of the rug.

Oda didn’t even pause to process the guilt. He vaulted out of bed with as much grace as a groggy, half-medicated teenager could manage at 10:30 in the morning, landing awkwardly but upright as he planted himself squarely between Bakugo and the door. His heart was already racing, adrenaline surging hard enough to burn the last remnants of sleep from his veins.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Oda tried again, holding both hands up in front of him in a placating gesture even as Bakugo scrambled back to his feet. “Just—lemme deal with it.”

“What?” Bakugo snapped, eyes blazing, teeth bared.

“He’s my friend,” Oda said quickly, stepping forward and catching Bakugo by the shoulders before he could lunge again. The contact jolted through him, Bakugo’s muscles rigid under his hands. “And honestly, anything you say will make it worse—”

Bakugo fought him, trying to shove past, fury radiating off him in waves. Oda dug in his heels, back hitting the door with a dull thud as Bakugo’s momentum forced him backward.

“He’s gonna jump to the fucking wrong conclusions—!” Bakugo snarled, breath hot and uneven, eyes flicking toward the door handle, reaching for it.

“I know, I know!” Oda cut in, voice firm despite the panic clawing at his chest. He pushed Bakugo back just enough to keep him from grabbing the handle. “Just—let me talk to him. I got this.” His voice dropped, urgent but steady. “Please.”

The word hung there for a second.

Bakugo stared at him for a long, hard moment, chest rising and falling sharply as the sparks along his hands fizzled and died down. His expression shifted through half a dozen emotions too fast to name before settling into something flat and unreadable.

“Fine.” The word came out clipped and reluctant.

Oda exhaled, relief cutting through him. “Thank you,” he said evenly, forcing his tone to stay calm as he finally released Bakugo’s shoulders. He reached back for the door handle without taking his eyes off him. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back.”

Bakugo didn’t respond, just stood there rigid and seething, jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth.

Oda yanked the door open and slipped out into the hallway, the cool air hitting his face as he broke into fast, purposeful strides toward the stairs

He turned the corner and was immediately met by the yellow-haired idiot who was warily talking to Kirishima. They looked to be in the middle of a seemingly innocent conversation but Kaminari still looked frazzled. 

And that expression went from confused to panicked in half a second when he spotted Oda. Kaminari’s eyes widened, his shoulders shot up, and without even pretending to be subtle, he spun on his heel and booked it for the stairs.

“Nope!” Kaminari yelled over his shoulder as he ran.

“Kaminari! Get back here, you moron,” Oda called, already breaking into a sprint after him. He blew past Kirishima so fast the redhead barely had time to react.

“Dude, what did you do?” Kirishima chimed after Kaminari, a mix of alarm and genuine curiosity in his voice, echoing down the stairwell as he leaned over the railing.

“Nothing!” Kaminari yelled back, feet pounding against the steps. “I didn’t see anything! Honest!”

“Then why are you running?” Oda shot back, vaulting the railing without breaking pace. He twisted midair and landed hard on the lower flight of stairs Kaminari had already torn down, knees bending on impact as his shoes squealed against the concrete.

They hit the landing for the third floor almost at the same time, Kaminari skidding slightly as he veered toward his room. He slammed the door shut with enough force to rattle the frame and immediately locked it, the click of the bolt sounding painfully final just as Oda reached the end of the hall.

“Dammit.”

Oda planted his palm against the door and then pounded his fist against it, the dull thud reverberating down the corridor.

“No one’s home!” Kaminari called through the door, his voice muffled but far too loud to be convincing.

Oda didn’t even bother responding. His jaw clenched as his quirk flared to life, red light bleeding across his body. The lock on the inside of the door flipped with a sharp metallic click, glowing briefly before the door burst open toward the inside of the room.

“That,” Oda snapped as he stepped over the threshold, “is called knocking before you barge into someone’s room.”

“I did knock!” Kaminari shot back immediately, stumbling a step away from the door. “I thought Bakugo was ignoring me on purpose! I didn’t realize it was because he was hooking up with you!”

The door slammed shut behind them from red gravitation force in the same instant Oda moved. His hand shot out, grabbing Kaminari by the head and clamping firmly over his mouth, dragging him back a step so fast Kaminari barely had time to yelp before the sound was cut off.

“What is wrong with you?” Oda hissed, voice low and dangerous, eyes blazing inches from Kaminari’s face.

Kaminari pried at Oda’s wrist until he managed to shove it away, gasping and spluttering as he staggered back. “What’s wrong with me?” he demanded. “What’s wrong with you? We are at school.”

“Okay. Okay.” Oda forced himself to step back, lifting both hands in surrender even though his heart was hammering hard enough to bruise his ribs. “Whatever you’re thinking right now—”

“Uh-huh?” Kaminari said, squinting at him skeptically.

“Erase it from your mind,” Oda stated flatly. “You’re dead wrong.”

Kaminari’s eyebrows pinched together, lips pursing as he studied Oda. “If this is some weird tactic to gaslight me into silence,” he said slowly, “then just know it’s not gonna work. I have a pretty vivid imagination.”

“First of all, ew,” Oda said without missing a beat. “Second of all, it is not like that. It is not even a little bit like that.”

“Yeah, I know a liar when I see one,” Kaminari decided, crossing his arms and leaning his weight back onto one hip.

Oda resisted the urge to scream.

Was Oda a liar? Yeah. Absolutely. He lied constantly to save his own skin, to protect other people, to keep the delicate balancing act of his life from collapsing in on itself. But this time—this time—he wasn’t lying about the important part, and somehow that made it worse. He could feel the story slipping out of his control already.

Still, he knew he was going to have to lie a little. Just enough. White lies, he told himself. Clean ones. Ones that redirected attention away from Bakugo and onto something Kaminari could accept without alerting the entire dorm.

“Can you just hear me out for a second?” Oda requested.

Kaminari gave him a dubious look, one eyebrow creeping up toward his hairline as he rocked back on his heels. “Sure?” he said, the question mark doing a lot of heavy lifting.

Oda took a breath that felt like it scraped his lungs on the way in, then another that he forced out slowly before he spoke. 

“Okay, look, this is gonna sound odd and I don’t even really know how it happened but, uh—” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, shifting his weight awkwardly as he rubbed his calf with the back of his other foot, gaze dropping to the floor. “After Kamino we’ve both had a lot of issues sleeping. PTSD or whatever, I guess. And I dunno, it just sorta ended up this way. A weird coping mechanism, I guess.”

Kaminari stared at him for half a beat longer than comfortable, his expression flattening into something deeply unimpressed. “Your weird coping mechanism… is sleeping in Katsuki Bakugo’s bed?”

Oda visibly cringed at the phrasing, jaw tightening as if he’d bitten down on something sour. He didn’t look up when he answered, just muttered through clenched teeth, “Yes.”

The yellowed haired idiot didn’t say anything at first. He just stared. Then his eyes widened slightly, blinking hard once, twice, like the words had finally clicked into place in his brain. “You’re not messing with me,” he said, the realization dawning mid-sentence.

“No, I’m not,” Oda replied quietly, finally lifting his gaze.

“I— you— he—” Kaminari sputtered, hands flying up as he tried and failed to string his thoughts together. He dragged a hand down his face and let out a short, incredulous laugh. “I’d say I don’t believe you but you’re so emotionally constipated that this situation is completely feasible and wow—we need to have a talk about norms. Are you seeing a shrink?”

“Dude,” Oda said flatly.

“What? I’m just asking!” Kaminari shot back, holding his hands up defensively. “I’m worried about you.”

Oda stared at him, expression blank but eyes sharp. “Look, I know it’s weird, but nothing… like that… is going on.”

“You say that as if this isn’t the craziest thing I’ve seen all week,” Kaminari fired back immediately. “How long has this even been going on?”

The shorter hesitated. Just a fraction of a second too long. His shoulders tensed before he answered, voice cautious. “Two weeks.”

Kaminari’s jaw dropped. Fully. No attempt to hide it. “Two weeks?!” he echoed. “Two? Two of them? That’s— that’s not that long after we moved in. That’s before the hero licensing exam. You guys were sleeping in the same bed and that’s how you behave in public?!”

“Keep your voice down,” Oda snapped sharply, eyes flicking toward the door as if he half-expected someone else to be standing there.

“I’m gonna go brain dead,” Kaminari declared, pacing a tight circle through his room. “I might try it, actually, it might make this make more sense. How could you not tell me?”

Oda just stared at him, incredulous. “This is how you react and you expected me to have told you?” he deadpanned.

“Well I wouldn’t be so caught off guard if I hadn’t walked in on my friend in Lord Explosion Murder’s bed now would I?” Kaminari shot back, throwing his hands up. “I expected an explosion to the face, not Oda’s face. I cannot believe this is happening.”

“You can’t tell anyone.” Oda stated, because that’s what he really need to say. Came in here to say. 

“Oh really?” Kaminari chuckled, the sound light and teasing, though his eyes flicked over Oda’s face with a little more attention than before.

“I’m serious.” Oda insisted, finally looking him dead in the eye. His jaw clenched, the tips of his fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeves. “I’m humiliated that this is happening at all but if everyone else found out—”

“Bakugo would go ape-shit on us all and murder nineteen people.” Kaminari nodded along, “Yeah, I got it.”

“Twenty, probably. I’d be to blame for you finding out.” Oda pointed out dryly, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Ya sleep in the same bed, I don’t think he’s gonna murder you.” Kaminari let out, tone far too casual for Oda’s liking.

Oda groaned, rolling his eyes. He turned away a fraction, staring at the wall like it might rescue him. “I told you, it’s not like that.”

“Is it not like that or have ya just not thought about it?” Kaminari countered, leaning his weight back against his desk with a grin that immediately set Oda on edge. “‘Cause my money’s on the second option.”

“What are you implying?” Oda asked, slowly, the warning clear in his voice.

“What do you think I’m implying?” Kaminari shot back easily. “I mean, be honest. Look me in my face and tell me you think Bakugo is ugly, I dare you.”

Oda made a face immediately, his mouth twisting in irritation more than anything else. “So what if he’s not ugly? You’re making a lot of assumptions here.”

Kaminari’s grin widened into something downright insufferable. “Assumptions like what?”

“Like assuming I’m into dudes.” Oda snapped, irritation flaring sharp and sudden.

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Are you into dudes?”

Oda felt like his head was about to explode, the pressure building right behind his eyes. He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing once before stopping short. “So what if I am? That doesn’t change anything.”

“Ohoho yes it does.” Kaminari said decidedly, pointing a finger.

“No, it doesn’t.” Oda insisted, immediately defensive. “Bakugo’s made it pretty clear that he doesn’t swing.”

Kaminari scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And you believe that?”

Oda shrugged, expression tight. “I would not be surprised if his sexuality was virtually nonexistent.”

“That’s called being asexual.” Kaminari cut in without missing a beat.

“So?”

“And I’m willing to bet dollars to donuts that he’s never even thought about it.” Kaminari stated, studying Oda with open curiosity now. “And honestly I’m shocked that you’ve thought about it. Are you not into girls at all? Or what’s the ratio here?”

“Dude.” Oda warned, exhaustion seeping into the word.

“What?” Kaminari asked innocently, hands raised in mock surrender. “This is good, I feel like I’m learning a lot about you.”

“Oh piss off.” Oda scoffed, “It’s never been something that I gave much thought to. I realized and moved on.” 

“So you are just into dudes.” Kaminari read, tilting his head slightly, the grin still there but softened by genuine curiosity rather than mockery.

“Why is that what you’re stuck on?” Oda demanded, finally turning fully toward him. This entire morning had already gone off the rails, and Kaminari was just piling on.

“Like I said, I’m happy to learn new things about you.” Kaminari grinned easily, clearly unbothered by the hostility. He leaned back against the edge of his desk again, casual as ever. “So none of this is romantic? Like even a little bit?”

“This is Katsuki Bakugo that we’re talking about.” Oda shot back immediately, incredulous. He gestured vaguely toward the door, “What do you think?”

Kaminari lifted his hands in surrender, palms out. “I know, I know. I’m just saying.” He shrugged,  “Crazy how one kidnapping attempt can make two people go from nationwide rivals to sleeping on the same mattress.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Oda scowled, the corners of his mouth twitching despite himself, though he quickly suppressed it. “We are not rivals.”

“Tell that to literally anyone who watched the sports fest.” Kaminari retorted, eyebrows shooting up. “I thought you were gonna murder each other.”

“Whatever.” Oda waved it off, “You’re not gonna tell anyone, are you?” he asked, voice lower now, more serious, dragging the conversation back to the reason he’d chased Kaminari down in the first place.

“Are you kidding me? I’m stupid most of the time, not all of the time.” Kaminari let out, rolling his eyes. “And I’m not stupid enough to blab about my two top classmates’ weirdest secret.” He paused, then added, far too casually, “Can I tell Kirishima though?”

Oda shot him a harrowing glare, his eyes narrowing instantly.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Kaminari relented, holding up his hands again, backing down immediately. “Fine. I guess I’ll stew on it in silence.”

“How about we not stew on it at all, Mr. I-have-a-very-vivid-imagination?” Oda shot back.

“I shouldn’t have said that.” Kaminari muttered, mostly to himself, then continued, “This is a bad time to ask but do you wanna train with me and Kirishima? We got the go-ahead to put in some extra hours and you missed all week so we figured we’d invite you. And Bakugo… but I don’t think that’s a good idea now.”

Oda stared at him for a moment, longer than was probably comfortable, his thoughts stalling out as the question actually sank in. 

He hadn’t expected that. Not really. The fact that Kirishima and Kaminari had both thought of him, had noticed his absence enough to actively invite him, was a little jarring in a way that caught him off guard. It shouldn’t have been, not after Kaminari had so easily declared himself Oda’s friend weeks ago like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

Still, it hadn’t fully settled in until now that Oda had friends—actual ones—and the realization came with a faint, uncomfortable twist of guilt. He’d been so wrapped up in his own survival, his own deadlines and consequences, that he hadn’t really stopped to think about the people who often yanked him close.

“…Sure.” Oda finally answered, “Gimme like a half an hour. I gotta shower.”

“Okie-dokie.” Kaminari glanced down at his phone, thumbs flying for a second before he snorted and laughed. “Kirishima just asked if you murdered me for something.”

Oda scoffed, shaking his head as he turned slightly toward the door. “I wasn’t gonna murder you, Jesus.”

“I know that.” Kaminari chuckled, the tension fully gone now, his shoulders relaxing.

“Right,” Oda shot back dryly, “which is why you locked the door.”

“I locked the door in case Bakugo was behind you.” Kaminari said it so casually it almost sounded reasonable. “I was planning to jump off my balcony if my door exploded off my hinges. I’d have a better chance of surviving.” He grinned, clearly pleased with his own logic.

“Uh-huh.” Oda muttered, unimpressed but not entirely unconvinced.

“I’ll just tell Kiri that I stole something from you that you wanted back.” Kaminari added innocently, already composing the lie in his head. “No harm, no foul.”

“You’re weirdly good at lying.” Oda muttered, more observation than accusation as he reached for the door.

Kaminari’s grin widened. “What can I say? When everyone assumes you’re just stupid you can get away with a lot.”

Oda rolled his eyes, already halfway turned away. “I’m leaving now.”

“Okaaaay.” Kaminari called after him, voice sing-song as the door opened. “See you in thirty.”

The shorter didn’t respond, just slipped out into the hallway, the door closing behind him as he exhaled quietly, already mentally preparing himself for a cold shower

Oda wasn’t sure how he felt after that conversation, and the uncertainty sat heavy in his chest as he climbed the stairs two at a time. 

On one hand, he was relieved—genuinely relieved—that he’d explained himself, that Kaminari had listened instead of laughing it off or immediately turning it into gossip. The knot of dread he’d been carrying since the door slammed shut in Bakugo’s room had loosened just a little. 

Kaminari wasn’t going to blab. 

The secret, fragile and humiliating as it felt, was still contained.

On the other hand, Kaminari’s relentless prying about his sexuality lingered uncomfortably, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He wasn’t ashamed, exactly. It was more the reminder that this was yet another thing about him that could be dissected, misunderstood, or turned into something bigger than it was.

The stairwell echoed faintly with his footsteps.

Oh fuck. Right. Bakugo.

The thought hit him halfway up a flight, sharp and unavoidable, and Oda slowed just slightly as the reality of his next task settled in. He still had to go back. He still had to explain to Mr. Anger-Management-Issues himself how he’d gotten Kaminari to keep his mouth shut without making things worse. That alone was a delicate balancing act, and Bakugo wasn’t exactly known for reacting calmly to unexpected variables—especially ones involving humiliation.

It was fine. He had this. He’d managed to talk Kaminari down, redirect his curiosity, and keep the situation from detonating in the hallway. If he could do that, he could handle Bakugo too. He could get Bakugo to not murder his friend. This was fine. Totally fine.

With a sharp breath and a firm nod to himself, like he was bracing for impact, Oda lifted his hand and tapped his knuckles gently against Bakugo’s door.

A pause followed, long enough for doubt to creep in.

Then rustling from inside, the sound of movement, footsteps approaching. The door opened, and red eyes pierced straight through him, sharp and assessing even through the residual irritation that still clung to Bakugo.

Oda turned his eyes down without really thinking about it. “Hey.”

Bakugo grunted in response, already averting his gaze as he motioned him inside with a short tilt of his head. Oda stepped through the doorway and let it shut behind him, stopping in the middle of the room like he wasn’t entirely sure where to stand.

The blond dropped back down onto his bed almost immediately, sitting on the edge with his shoulders tense, clenching and unclenching his fists in his lap as he stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. The movement was restless, agitated, the physical manifestation of a mind that refused to slow down.

“Did you get everything sorted?” Bakugo finally asked, his voice rough but controlled, like he was forcing it not to crack or spike.

“Yeah.” Oda answered, straightforward, honest. “I just told him we were struggling with Kamino. I didn’t share any major details. He won’t go blabbing about what he, uh, walked in on, either.”

Bakugo’s jaw tightened slightly. “You sure?”

Oda let out a scoff, the sound sharp but not unkind. “Pretty sure.”

Another beat passed, heavy but not hostile.

“Okay.” Bakugo nodded once, lips pressing into a thin line. “Good.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward so much as loaded. Oda shifted his weight, the familiar itch to leave before the quiet turned into something else creeping in.

“I’m going to train with him and Kirishima.” He said at last, breaking the stillness as he reached over and snatched his water bottle off the nightstand. He didn’t bother grabbing his medication—he’d be back later anyway. “They got the greenlight from Aizawa.”

Bakugo hummed in response as he crawled back into bed, turning onto his side to face away from Oda, his back a clear but not unkind boundary. “Good for you.”

Oda paused at the door, his hand hovering over the handle as he glanced back at the blond’s turned form. “Eight?” He asked, keeping his voice even, referring to the time tonight like it was the most normal arrangement in the world.

“Yep.” Bakugo replied, brief and certain.

“Okay.”

And then Oda left.