A figure stumbles out of the back entrance, hand braced against the wall. Katsuki Bakugo looks like death warmed over. His usual sharp posture is gone, shoulders hunched, jaw tight. The silver rings in his ears catch the light as he tips his head back, eyes squeezed shut.

His nose piercing glints. His chest rises and falls in shallow, labored breaths.

He hasn't eaten in three days. Real food, at least. The synthetic stuff makes him nauseous. Animal blood barely takes the edge off anymore.

The door swings open again behind him. Izuku emerges more carefully, a paper bag clutched to his chest. His eyes are red-rimmed too, but he's hiding it better. Multiple earrings catch the light as he moves.

Silence stretches. Heavy. Awkward.