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Bakugo was spending the night at Midoriya’s house, as he had been doing for many nights now. It seemed that he only ever went to his house to get clothes and things he needed, but rarely actually stayed there anymore. It was partially because he didn’t want to be home and his boyfriends always offered for him to stay over, but also partially because Midoriya and Kirishima didn’t want him to be alone, much less be alone with his parents.

This specific night, it was just Midoriya and Bakugo. They had already eaten dinner, and it was close to 11 pm. Since it was only the two of them, they were both able to fit in the bed. Bakugo was already in bed, and when Midoriya walked out of the bathroom and towards him, he immediately started laughing.

“Are those dinosaur boxers?” he asked.

“Laugh all you want, but you know I look fantastic in these,” Midoriya said, lifting his shirt - Kirishima’s shirt - and hitting his leg, showing off the multicolored dinosaurs scattered across a dark blue background. Midoriya’s hand rested on his leg, fingers just centimeters away from his own scars. They were still red dark pink and hadn’t yet turned into bumps protruding from his skin, but they were fully healed, and for that, Bakugo was thankful. He smiled at Midoriya and pushed away the painful thought of his boyfriend being covered in scars like his.

“It’s hard to take you seriously when you’re wearing dinosaur boxers and a shark t-shirt,” Bakugo said. “You’re dressed like a seven year old.”

“I know you still like me all the same,” Midoriya said, climbing into the bed next to Bakugo. Midoriya wrapped his arms around Bakugo who was dressed much more modestly, wearing a plain tank top with full length pants. He knew Midoriya had already seen his scars countless times, and he knew Midoriya’s opinion of him would never change. Despite that, a little part of his brain still insisted that if Midoriya saw him struggling, if Midoriya saw proof that he used to struggle, he would think he was weak. Or, Midoriya would not want to be with him anymore.

“We should go get you some real pajama pants,” Midoriya whispered. “So you don’t have to sleep in these things anymore.” He put a hand onto Bakugo’s pants, feeling the dense texture of the pants. They seemed cozy enough, but any pants with belt loops, a zipper and a button were definitely not meant to be slept in.

The two boys laid together in bed, too tired to do anything else that night, but not quite tired enough to sleep. Midoriya’s hands gently skimmed over Bakugo’s bare skin. His arms were covered in scars too, like his sides and thighs, but these ones didn’t bother him so much. Most of the scars on his arms were from training or something of the sort, so he didn’t mind them nearly as much as the others. Those scars were proof of how hard he trained, and how he would become a hero one day.

“I’ve always wondered,” Midoriya whispered. “How’d you get this one?” Midoriya asked. His fingers skimmed his fingers over the scar diagonal across his bicep. The scar he had gotten while Midoriya and Kirishima were out getting boba.

“I didn’t do it myself,” Bakugo responded. He was usually hesitant to talk about his self-harm, but this seemed even more hesitant than that. It seemed different.

“Was it training?” Midoriya asked, just hoping for the best, even though he could tell it wasn’t.

“My mom, she never really hit me. Like, she’d kinda thwack me sometimes, that sort of thing. She only hit me for-real when she was really mad.” Midoriya was silent.  “The last time she really hit me… She was cooking. Soup, I think… other times she’d hit me, she’d use whatever was in her hands - a hairbrush, spoon, book… She didn’t realize she was holding a knife.”

“Kacchan… I’m so sorry.”

“That was the only time she really apologized to me.. And she hasn’t hit me once since… I had to get 12 stitches…” Bakugo felt tears begin dripping down his face. When he first got together with Midoriya and Kirishima, he would’ve tried to hide it, but now he just laid there, and let himself cry. Midoriya’s hands rested on Bakugo's face, carefully wiping away the tears with his hands. “Sorry, I know you didn’t ask for a trauma dump right now.”

“I asked ‘cause I wanted to know. You have nothing to apologize for.” When Midoriya said that, Bakugo began crying harder, mumbling more inaudible apologies. “It’s okay, just get it all out,” Midoriya whispered, holding the boy tight to his chest as sobs wracked his body.

Once he had calmed down, Bakugo spoke again. “Your mom’s really nice, isn’t she,” he whispered. “I guess we all have to have one shitty parent.”

“Is your dad okay then?” Midoriya whispered back.

“He tries his best. And yours?”

“When he’s home, he’s good,” Midoriya’s voice trailed off. “But I haven’t even seen him in person for four years now. He’ll pick up the phone if mom calls, but he never calls us either. Not even for birthdays or Christmas.”

“Sounds like a bit of a dick,” Bakugo mumbled. “What about Ei’s dad? I’ve never heard about him at all.”

“Eijiro never met him. I’m pretty sure he just left before he was even born.”

“Well that’s a shitbag move right there. At least we have three decent parents between us, I guess.”

“Yeah, at least we have that.”

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