ᴍɪssɪɴɢ || ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 𝟹

Date: October 12, XXXX
Time: 6:34 p.m.
Location: UA Campus

Hands scratching at his scalp impatiently, Bakugo flips the page again, scanning and scanning for anything helpful in the notes scribbled in the margins or on the paper itself. Anything that rings a bell, or sets off an alarm in his mind, or that clicks together in his brain like two magnets.

But, nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Like the magnets are repelling each other.

Bakugo flips the pages again, staring at the burning white paper with heavy eyes, his mind begging him to rest for even a moment, or to take a break, or something.

Anything.

If only he could find a lead, something for him to hold onto that might lead him in the right direction. Bakugo lets out a loud yawn, though his brain doesn't register the motion or noise from the lack of energy, rest, and food weighing heavily on his body and motivation.

How long has it been since he's gotten a full night of sleep?

A couple days?

A week?

A month?

Bakugo doesn't care how long it's been, flipping the page again, the sound being the only noise other than his breathing in his entire dorm. The curtains that cover the balcony doors are closed tight so no light can come in and distract him, leaving Bakugo in his own world with no concept of time. It could be late morning, midafternoon, or 3 a.m. for all he cares, turning to the next page of your file.

At this point, Bakugo isn't sure how many long nights he has lost to looking through these papers, neglecting sleep in favor of searching for clues.

Flipping the crisp, white paper again, a picture of you in your hero costume pops up on the page.

You're not smiling, just blank-faced and standing to the side of where most of the heroes were gathered. It's the last photo taken of you before you disappeared, just before the mission where you vanished into thin air without a trace.

Well...they found two pieces of evidence since then. Your knife, which now lays on Bakugo's nightstand, freshly polished and well taken care of, and the slight traces of Chloroform found on the walls of a room inside the warehouse. All of the indicators needed to tell that you were taken, and not out on your own mission right now.

The thought lays heavily on his mind like a blanket of fog, making all of Bakugo's other movements seem secondary and robotic compared to how confidently he used to hold himself. Bakugo used to have his head held high, eyes burning with competitive passion, and his back straight and stance threatening. Bakugo has always been one of the top three students in Class 3-A, and despite everything that has happened, he still is.

But now, Bakugo's eyes are unfocused and bleary, his stance is stiff and wound up like he'll explode from stress at any moment, and his head faces the ground with his gaze set at his feet. His every movement seems unsure and hesitant like he might miss something but he isn't sure what it is. The Bakusquad has tried to get him out of his room for weeks now, trying to get him to smile or...do anything at this point except stare at your file.

He goes over it every day, at least twice, in hopes something will just...click. But, that's not how cases work and without a proper hero license or permission to go out into the city, this is all he can do to help find you.

It has been nineteen days since you disappeared.

Nineteen days.

Sixteen hours.