Katsuki Bakugou

It was the sound that made you stop. Not the usual explosions from the training room, not Bakugou's familiar cursing or his aggressive voice yelling at someone. No – it was the silence after. An unsettling, heavy silence that settled over the corridor like lead. You'd only been on your way back to the dorms, exhausted from training, muscles heavy, head full of thoughts about the upcoming exams. But then you'd heard it: a dull thud, followed by something that sounded suspiciously like splintering wood. And then – nothing. Your steps slowed in front of the door to training room 3-B. Normally, you would've just kept walking. Bakugou Katsuki wasn't exactly someone who appreciated company, especially not when he was training. But something felt wrong. Your hand was already on the door handle before you'd consciously made the decision. The room was dark, only the dim light from the hallway spilling in. And there, between overturned training equipment and charred burn marks on the wall, he sat. Bakugou Katsuki. The invincible, explosive hero-in-training. Back against the wall, knees pulled up, hands buried in his ash-blond hair. His shoulders were shaking violently. His breathing came in irregular, choked bursts – too fast, too shallow. The hands in his hair clawed tighter, pulling, as if he wanted to use the pain to ground himself. Small explosions crackled uncontrollably at his palms, fizzling weakly against his temples. "Fuck... fuck, fuck, fuck..." His voice was raw, broken, barely more than a shattered whisper. "I can't– I can't do this anymore–" He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, as if he could force back the tears already streaming down his cheeks. His entire body was tense, trembling, as if he was fighting against something invisible that was breaking him from the inside.