Chapter Text
It was the kind of night that begged for sleep, but Katsuki Bakugou wasn’t in the mood to comply. He tossed and turned in his bed, his sheets twisted around him in a chaotic mess that mirrored his restless thoughts. The clock on his nightstand ticked relentlessly, mocking him with its slow passage of time. Every minute that passed seemed to stretch into infinity, a cruel reminder that sleep was just beyond his reach.
He glared at the ceiling, his frustration mounting with every failed attempt to find comfort. The usual remedies—counting sheep, slow breathing—had done nothing to quell his insomnia. The room was too quiet, the silence suffocating. In a sudden burst of determination, he threw off the covers and pushed himself out of bed. If he couldn't sleep, maybe a late-night snack would help clear his mind and settle his restlessness.
Bakugou padded down the hallway in his pajama pants and a tank top, his usual fiery demeanor somewhat subdued by his exhaustion. The common room lights casted a warm, inviting glow. He walked in slowly, only to find a sight he hadn’t expected.
Ochako Uraraka stood by the kitchen counter, her back turned as she waited for the kettle to boil. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she wore an oversized hoodie that made her look even smaller than usual. The steam from the kettle curled up into the air, blending with the soft hum of the appliance. It was the dead of night, and she was making hot chocolate.
Bakugou froze for a moment, his irritation at being unable to sleep momentarily forgotten. What was she doing still awake? He quickly shook off the surprise and stomped over to the kitchen counter, deliberately ignoring Uraraka’s presence. He wasn’t in the mood for socializing—he was here to make ramen and then retreat back to his room as quickly as possible.
He grabbed a pot and filled it with water, turning the stove on with a decisive flick of his wrist. The familiar sound of the burner igniting provided a small measure of comfort, and he began preparing his spicy ramen. The sharp, tangy scent of the broth soon filled the room, a stark contrast to the sweetness of Uraraka’s hot chocolate.
Uraraka glanced up briefly as she stirred her cocoa, but Bakugou didn’t meet her gaze. Instead, he focused intently on the process of making his meal, the repetitive actions offering a temporary distraction from his restless mind. The clatter of the ramen packet hitting the pot and the sizzle of the boiling water became a soothing backdrop to his otherwise chaotic thoughts.
The silence between them was palpable, punctuated only by the occasional sound of stirring or the clinking of ceramic mugs. Bakugou could feel the tension in the air, an unspoken acknowledgment of each other’s presence without any real desire to engage. He could sense Uraraka glancing at him every now and then, but he steadfastly avoided looking her way.
As he ate his ramen, the spicy broth doing its best to warm him from the inside out, he could feel his shoulders slowly relaxing. It was as if the heat and the flavor of the food were starting to settle the restlessness that had plagued him all night. The silence, though awkward, was almost comforting in its own way.
Uraraka, on the other hand, seemed to be trying to distract herself with her hot chocolate. She took small sips, her eyes focused on the swirling patterns of steam rising from her mug. Every so often, she would look up, but her gaze always quickly shifted away when she realized he was still not acknowledging her.
The minutes dragged on, and the common room felt more like a battleground of social awkwardness than a place of relaxation. Bakugou, feeling the heat of the ramen gradually easing his tension, tried to ignore the subtle glances Uraraka kept throwing his way. He wished the encounter could end as soon as possible.
Eventually, Uraraka finished her hot chocolate. She set her mug down on the counter with a soft clink and stood up, stretching her arms over her head with a yawn. Her eyes met his briefly, a mixture of sleepiness and resolve in her expression.
“Goodnight, Bakugou,” she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. She offered him a small, tired smile before heading toward the stairs.
Bakugou grunted in response, a noncommittal noise that didn’t really qualify as a reply. He watched as she walked away, her footsteps echoing softly on the stairs. The awkwardness of the moment hung heavily in the air, and he could almost feel it pressing down on him.
As soon as Uraraka was out of sight, Bakugou finished the last of his ramen with an irritated sigh. He pushed his bowl aside and stood up, feeling the uncomfortable weight of the interaction lingering in his mind. The encounter had been more disconcerting than he had anticipated, and he was eager to put it behind him.
He made his way back to his room, the quiet of the hallway now feeling even more oppressive than before. His thoughts churned with the awkwardness of the night, and he couldn’t shake the image of Uraraka’s sleepy smile from his mind. It wasn’t like him to be so affected by a brief, insignificant interaction, but he found himself dwelling on it nonetheless. Maybe it was the exhaustion?
As he crawled back into bed, he glanced at the clock. It was still early by his standards, but he felt drained. He hoped that the food would at least help him drift off to sleep, even if it hadn’t been the ideal solution. He pulled the covers over himself, trying to force his mind to quiet down.
But even as he closed his eyes, the image of Uraraka’s tired face lingered in his thoughts. He couldn't shake the image of her soft smile out his head. He groaned as he rolled over, frustrated with himself for letting such a minor encounter affect him so deeply. The night stretched on, and though he felt physically exhausted, sleep remained elusive. He knew he’d have to face her soon enough. And the thought of their next interaction already felt like another hurdle he’d have to overcome.
As the minutes ticked by and the first hints of dawn began to creep through the window, Bakugou could only hope that the morning would bring a fresh start and a return to his usual, more untroubled self. For now, all he could do was endure the uncomfortable silence of his own restless thoughts.