Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou hauls the duffle bag over his tense shoulder, boots left untied as he steps into the nearly empty locker room. The faint sound of shuffling reached his ears, which seemed to be coming from a couple of staff members and what looked to be players from another team here for the same reason he was. Typically, he brought his team to practices, however, right now he didn’t have the patience, and all he wanted was to blow off some steam. Alone.

His bag dropped onto the bench, quickly unzipped, and already tugging his skates out. Every movement was methodical, familiar in a way that said he had been doing this for longer than he had been walking, even with the harshness making the routine feel more rushed than it actually was. Tying his skates could have been easier than breathing at this point, though one pull on the loops and he could tell he would need to thread new laces sooner than he thought. Obviously he was frustrated, but they would be fine for casual practice by himself.

He stood before he could find anything else wrong with his gear and carried himself toward the rink with dull steps along the rubber-lined walkway, a scarred hand landing heavily on the player door leading to his form of relaxation. Thank fuck there was only one other person here. Midday, middle of the week, everyone with a life should be at work, school, or whatever the hell people without hobbies did, just as he anticipated.

Stepping onto the ice, the chill seeped into his bones in a way that almost had him shivering. Maybe that's why he liked it here so much. It cooled him down both emotionally and physically. The frigid air made it hard to sweat, and the game made it hard to be angry. Until someone makes the wrong call, or the opposing team says something snarky, then with the physical exertion added, he’d be back to sparking in no time.

He started with laps to warm up. Careful to avoid accidentally invading the stranger's space, he circled the rink. The slide of his blades against the freshly smoothed ice had him feeling the slightest amount of discomfort, the slipperiness making him uneasy, though a couple of laps etched it up enough to give him some grip.

This silence was like heaven, he had forgotten what a nearly empty ice rink sounded like. That feeling doubled when he finally grabbed a puck. The click of the rubber against his hockey stick, something he rarely heard over the sound of cheering, yelling, whistles, the works. Practices were always filled with the excitement from his team, far from the peaceful little world he found himself in, pushing around the small disk absentmindedly.

Whoever this stranger was, he appreciated them for shutting the fuck up. It was easy to forget they were even there.

A sharp smack rang out as the puck shot into the beat-up net of the goal. Right. That’s why he usually practiced with others. It was more interesting than hitting an empty goal over and over again. Good practice, but boring as fuck.

“Oi.” He spun around toward the other, nodding their way. “What’re you doing? Got a moment to play goalie?”

Bakugou hauls the duffle bag over his tense shoulder, boots left untied as he steps into the nearly empty locker room. The faint sound of shuffling reached his ears, which seemed to be coming from a couple of staff members and what looked to be players from another team here for the same reason he was. Typically, he brought his team to practices, however, right now he didn’t have the patience, and all he wanted was to blow off some steam. Alone.

His bag dropped onto the bench, quickly unzipped, and already tugging his skates out. Every movement was methodical, familiar in a way that said he had been doing this for longer than he had been walking, even with the harshness making the routine feel more rushed than it actually was. Tying his skates could have been easier than breathing at this point, though one pull on the loops and he could tell he would need to thread new laces sooner than he thought. Obviously he was frustrated, but they would be fine for casual practice by himself.

He stood before he could find anything else wrong with his gear and carried himself toward the rink with dull steps along the rubber-lined walkway, a scarred hand landing heavily on the player door leading to his form of relaxation. Thank fuck there wasn’t a single person here. Midday, middle of the week, everyone with a life should be at work, school, or whatever the hell people without hobbies did, just as he anticipated.

Stepping onto the ice, the chill seeped into his bones in a way that almost had him shivering. Maybe that's why he liked it here so much. It cooled him down both emotionally and physically. The frigid air made it hard to sweat, and the game made it hard to be angry. Until someone makes the wrong call, or the opposing team says something snarky, then with the physical exertion added, he’d be back to sparking in no time.

He started with laps to warm up. He circled the rink, enjoying the space and freedom of being alone. The slide of his blades against the freshly smoothed ice had him feeling the slightest amount of discomfort, the slipperiness making him uneasy, though a couple of laps etched it up enough to give him some comfortable grip.

This silence was like heaven, he had forgotten what an empty ice rink sounded like. That feeling doubled when he finally grabbed a puck. The click of the rubber against his hockey stick, something he rarely heard over the sound of cheering, yelling, whistles, the works. Practices were always filled with the excitement from his team, far from the peaceful little world he found himself in, pushing around the small disk absentmindedly.

A sharp smack rang out as the puck shot into the beat-up net of the goal. Convinced he was going to have the best practice he had had in a while, he didn’t even process the sound of someone entering the building, nor was he paying attention enough to hear whether or not they went to the front desk or to the ice first.

It was when he paused to adjust the thick gloves that he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Every ounce of his body tensed up in an attempt to suppress a groan of pure irritation, a sound he usually only made around Kaminari. He had to give them the benefit of the doubt and simply pray they would maintain this beautiful silence.