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He couldn't breathe.
He couldn't breathe and oh God he was choking.
He couldn't breathe and he was choking and gagging and coughing.
Sludge crawled its way down his throat, a cold sliminess trickling within his body and enveloping it whole. He struggled, grasping at the sludge encasing him, desperate for air.
As the boy took his final breath, Bakugou Katsuki's eyes snapped open. His gaze swept the room, gasping harshly as he clutched at his mouth. He shot up from his bed, cradling his stomach with his left hand as he continued grasping at his mouth with his right. He sprinted to the bathroom, leaning over a toilet as bile dripped from his mouth.
The sound of rushing water filled the bathroom as Bakugou washed his hands and brushed his teeth, attempting to rid his body of slime and sewage. He rinsed, swished, and spat until the phantom feeling of gunk choking and trapping him left.
He left the bathroom, spotting the elevator but decided to take the stairs down, elevators are too stuffy. (Sludge encased his body, it filled his lungs, it ached, it ached, it ached.) He sluggishly padded into the common room, turning to the kitchen to make himself tea. He didn't have the time to boil water. So he grabbed a mug, put water and a tea bag into it, and microwaved it. He let the chamomile tea (bought specifically by Ponytail) steep for a few minutes, before taking a seat on one of the couches. He took a few sips of his tea before placing it down on the coffee table. As he looked up, violet eyes met crimson eyes.
“So, Bakugou…” A catty smirk tugged harshly at Troll Hair’s cheeks. “What kind of tragedy must have befallen my fellow classmate for him to be awake at such a time?”
Shinsou had just moved into the dorms a few nights ago, though it seemed nobody had informed him of the ‘If you see someone up in the middle of the night, don’t bother them about it, just help if needed’ rule. It was honestly one of the most important rules within the dorms, protecting dignity but also providing comfort. Everyone was used to seeing each other at some point during the night at least a couple of times a month.
“Listen, Troll Face. In the dorms, we respect each other’s boundaries and shit, whatever the fuck that means. Anyways, my trauma is none of your business. And, you assuming that just because my quirk is perfect, which it is not seeing as I’m expected to be deaf by the time I’m in my fifties and will probably have chronic wrist pain, means my life is perfect, is fucking prejudiced. So maybe take a look in the fucking mirror before harassing someone for having issues, when literally everyone has goddamn issues.” Bakugou growled out, voice husky with sleep. He took a long sip of his tea afterward, giving the other boy a moment to contemplate.
“Why Troll Face though? Of all nicknames?”
“You look like you’d just pop straight out of the fucking troll tree from that one pre-quirk era movie, Trolls. It was either that or Cotton Candy, or maybe Aizawa-sensei 2.0. Maybe I could get Todoroki to come up with one of his crazy conspiracy theories. It’d be pretty goddamn hilarious.” Bakugou took another sip of his tea, red eyes glaring into space. Shinsou noted that the boy didn't seem to be entirely present, eyes flickering across the room in search of movement. His grip on his mug was shaky at best, the tea* rippling softly across its surface with every quiver.
"Take a picture, it lasts longer." Bakugou rolled his eyes, finally getting up from his seat on the couch. “I’m off to bed, Troll Face, g’night,” he uttered, not even giving the other a chance to respond as he climbed up the steps two stairs at a time.
He groaned as he laid down heavily on his bed. It is time to try sleeping again.