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Blackstar was going to die. If he wasn’t already dead, Kid was going to kill him. And then bring him back. And then maybe kill him again, who knew.
“Yes, what a great idea,” Kid muttered angrily as he stormed down the hall, drawing a multitude of odd looks that ranged from fearful to worried. “Let’s go fight a veritable army of fucking cultists all by myself. No, Kid, of course I don’t need your help. I’m the great Blackstar and they’re just puny humans. No way they would beat me. No, of fucking course not.”
Kid snarled at nothing in particular, his fingers itching to fight something, or to go organize something, or to do literally anything that would both distract him and give him the illusion of having some semblance of control. This was infuriating. He hadn’t been able to sleep right or think straight since Blackstar had shown up on his doorstep in the middle of the fucking night with a gaping hole in his side and that infuriating fucking smirk still on his face.
I beat them, Blackstar had said as he collapsed forward into Kid’s arms. All by myself.
That had been a week ago. It had been touch-and-go for a while there, and Blackstar had died twice in the first hour after he had come back, but he had been stabilized eventually, but then he just… hadn’t woken up. And then Kid had realized that he was afraid that Blackstar would die for good, and everything had gotten worse. There had just been so much emotion and Kid was not prepared to deal with any of them, and so he had dealt with them in the only ways he knew. He had cleaned until he looked down and realized his hands were so chapped they were bleeding, and then he had stormed to the infirmary and paced beside Blackstar’s bed for hours on end, glaring at anyone who came too close. Kid didn’t know where these protective instincts had come from, and he wasn’t going to examine the instinct too closely because god only knew what nasty, annoying emotions any sort of introspection would dredge up. Eventually, Maka had dragged Kid away from Blackstar and sent him home to get some sleep.
And then, of course, that was when Blackstar had woken up.
Kid had gotten word less than twenty minutes after he had woken that Blackstar was awake, and now that Kid was rested, he had room to be angry. Fuck Blackstar for thinking that he was able to take one an entire cult by himself. Fuck Blackstar for being so goddamn full of himself that he thought he was invincible. Fuck Blackstar for almost fucking dying in Kid’s arms.
Kid was going to kill him.
The door crashed against the wall as Kid stormed into the room. Blackstar looked up, his signature, overly-cocky grin spreading over his face the instant he recognized Kid.
“What did I tell you? I beat the shit out of them,” Blackstar boasted. His arrogance seemed out-of-place, right then. He looked too small and too pale in that bed, and the mass of bandages around his middle didn’t help any.
“And you almost died!” Kid shouted. He could hear the anger and the venom in his voice, and knew he probably shouldn’t yell, but he couldn’t help it. He had been worried, damn it. Blackstar looked taken aback.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Kid continued, flinging his arms out to the side. “We all offered to go with you. You knew there were going to be an entire fuckton of them! You knew you would be outnumbered, but no, you just wouldn’t take any fucking help, and look where that landed you! In the fucking infirmary with a gaping hole in your side! You almost died, Blackstar. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
To his credit, Blackstar didn’t answer right away. He looked surprised that Kid had just chewed him out so viciously. It was to be expected, Kid supposed. He didn’t usually explode like that.
“Did you ever even consider,” Kid added, somewhat quieter, “that maybe, just maybe, we were worried about you? That I was worried about you?”
And the shit-eating grin was back. Kid half wanted to slap it off of Blackstar’s face.
“Aww, you were worried?” Blackstar teased.
Kid grit his teeth. Do not punch the injured person, he reminded himself. Do not punch the injured person. “Of course I was worried,” he grumbled. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”
For a moment, Blackstar looked absolutely stunned, and Kid suddenly doubted himself. What if Blackstar had been serious this entire time and really did hate him? And then Blackstar grinned again, this smile considerably more sincere and less mocking than the last.
“Yeah,” Blackstar laughed, “but I still don’t get why you were so worried.”
“You - !” Kid hissed, then closed his eyes and clenched his fists. Don’t punch the injured person. “Fucking hell.”
Kid really hated that mocking grin. He was getting tired of looking at it. Don’t punch the injured person. Don’t punch the injured person. Don’t punch the injured person. Don’t punch –
He grabbed Blackstar’s face and kissed him instead. At the time, it seemed like a logical solution. It kept Blackstar from continuing to spew that self-deprecating, it-doesn’t-really-matter-if-I-die bullshit; Kid didn’t have to see that cocky, annoying expression anymore; and it got the sentiment across probably better than swearing at Blackstar some more would have. What Kid hadn’t considered was that he was kissing Blackstar.
Blackstar froze for half a second, clearly confused, and then Kid felt every muscle in Blackstar’s body relax, which in turn confused Kid. He had expected to be shoved away, yelled at, mocked, but not kissed back. And yet, improbable as it was, that appeared to be what was happening. Because Blackstar was grabbing Kid by his jacket and pulling him closer, and this made very little sense, but hell if Kid would complain.
For a few seconds, Kid floated in the sensation. It was surprisingly soft, or maybe that was just Blackstar’s mouth. And then Kid leaned too close and Blackstar gasped a little in pain and the moment was gone. Kid pulled away, angry with himself for hurting Blackstar.
“Fuck,” Kid breathed, taking a second to check his own mental stability. There was slightly less self-hatred than usual, surprisingly, and no regret. Just the memory of Blackstar’s lips pressed against his own and something unfamiliar stuck between his ribs.
Blackstar was still grinning, much to Kid’s chagrin, but this time it was a genuine expression with softer edges than usual. “Well, hell, man, you could’ve just said something.”
“Fuck off,” Kid grumbled, his cheeks heating. “It’s not like you would’ve believed me, anyway.”
Blackstar’s grin sharpened. “Well, I might need more convincing.”
Kid rolled his eyes and leaned down to kiss Blackstar again. His attitude could be dealt with later.