Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

   His world had been one of black and white- the monochromatic colors coming together to form a soundless melody; like the static within old movies, where you have to rewind and click play if you want to start all over.

His world was dark, the dizzying haze of blacks and whites swirling throughout his mind, like he was a misplaced cloud amidst a storm. Yet, he remained calm- well, as calm as Bakugou Katsuki could ever be- ignoring all the talk about color and soulmates.

He was numb to this world that was devoid of color, trying to act as if someone had encased him in ice and left him to drown within his own cold heart- him trying to convince himself that he felt nothing, all as if he was six feet under, throwing all his emotions under the dirt, throwing himself against the pile with only the ability to scream.

All he knew was that he had accepted his fate, that he shouldn't focus on romance if he ever wanted to be #1. You don't see All Might flaunting his relationship life to the world, after all. (But, who knows? Maybe he has a secret love child or something. God, he really needs to stop listening to Todoroki’s stupid conspiracy theories.)

If he ever wanted to surpass shitty Deku- if he ever wanted to become a true hero, he knew he could never focus on something so worthless as romance; he had to have no distractions, so he could focus on aiming for the top, so he'd be sure that he wouldn't fucking miss.

But, god, there was that one thing he could never escape- that little tug of his heart whenever he looked at the color strip on his wrist, that burst of heat(no, no from his quirk) whenever he had fleeting thoughts about the color, and what everything might be like if he just accepted his fate of falling in love; the color red, the color of fire, the color of blood, the color of love. His color.

There was a time Bakugou had been proud of his color mark, refusing to wear long sleeves or anything that could possibly cover the- to him- vibrant mark.

"No!" His 4 year old self had screamed, throwing a tantrum every time his father tried to put a pair of gloves on him, trying his best to keep his mark open for the world to see, while his father just wanted to make sure his son didn't get frostbite.

"No!" He had yelled as his mother literally wrestled him into his coat, Mitsuki constantly having to push his sleeves down after his efforts to keep his mark open.

To this day, and to Katsuki’s embarrassment, there are odd pictures of him with one glove on, one sleeve up, and of him proudly holding his mark to the camera, a happy grin on his face as he proudly revealed the strip of color on his wrist to the world.

Needless to say, those stayed at the Bakugou household when everyone moved into the dorms, Bakugou’s hatred over the embarrassing images and the risk that it posed towards his privacy (cough The Bakusquad and their nosiness cough) too much for him to handle. But, ever since the strange soulmate marks appeared alongside quirks, it had always been a funny little tradition to ask a child what their favourite color was, friends of the child's parents always crouching down to the smaller human beings, ruffling their hair affectionately as they ask the silly question, finding it cute when the children would reply with such vigor- such excitement over a concept someone so young could hardly begin to comprehend.

Even with all the tantrums thrown over his mark, showing his mark to strangers had been a highlight of Katsuki’s day. Eyes lighting up, tantrum long forgotten, Katsuki ripped off his gloves/rolled up his sleeves -much to Mitsuki and Masaru’s chagrin- he had shoved the mark in strangers faces, child-like innocence and excitement causing him to vibrate when standing still.

"Red! Red is my favourite color!" He had exclaimed proudly, holding up his wrist, the one with the strip of color that seemed grey to everyone but him. The adults has always smiled at his answer, shaking their heads slightly at his innocence as they got up from their crouching position, before beginning to talk with his parents about color- about blue, green, pink- all things that those who have met their soulmates could never get enough of, and he could never even hope to imagine, until he met his well deserved soulmate.

But then he had learned that not all men are created equal. He learned of hatred, of those who decided to not follow the path their marks set for them. He learned of deceit, how those would cheat on their significant other, even if they were soulmates.

He learned of a world devoid of colour, and how your world would fade to monochrome once again if your soulmate were to die, and how that colour would never return. He learned of those with no marks, and how they were destined to be alone.

~

2 children sat in a meadow, bug catching nets cast to the side as they took time poke fun at each other. They were older than 4 years old age, but the eldest, a blonde boy, seemed to have taken control of the discussion, he proudly stating something while looking down at the other boy.

"See? Mom says I'm the first one of us to have gotten mine!" Bakugou raised a fist in the air, a proud grin on face as he showed Midoriya his mark, bright red line on his wrist. Sure, he had maybe gotten his a little earlier than the other kids, but hey, it was still a pretty damn cool thing to have.

"You got your mark?" Midoriya gazed at the little line with wonder, abandoning his post near the anthill as he stared at Bakugou’s wrist. His eyes, Bakugou’s mother told him they were green, were full of wonder he took Bakugou’s wrist, gazing from Bakugou’s wrist to his own, blank one. "That’s so cool!"

Bakugou couldn't even being himself to reprimand the younger boy for touching him, as he was too busy vibrating with excitement about the entire concept.

After a few short moments, Midoriya stumbled off, taking his hand off Bakugou’s wrist as he took his position near the anthill once again,

"I wish I had my mark.." He mumbled, fumbling for his bug net as he tried to get it from the slippery ground, "Don't worry, you'll get yours soon!" Bakugou laughed, playfully nudging Midoriya, nearly sending the smaller boy toppling into the anthill.

Midoriya stumbled, but still laughed along with his friend, taking time to stare at his blank wrist with an innocent smile.

~

”Ha! Worthless is right! What good is someone if they don't even have a soulmate or quirk?"

~

(God, looking back on that now, he should really apologize to Deku, as he and Todoroki, the two markless lovers, seemed to be getting on just fine.) And soon, he learned about true love; and how your mark shouldn't define anything other than your ability to see color, and how who you love shouldn't be based on a little mark on your wrist.

He found it ridiculous, how his colour- such a bright, deep, burning red- wouldn't mean anything now that these prior forms of social acceptance have been thrown to the side, allowing those who hadn't had a chance from the start to get in the way of his goals.

Namely, Midoriya Izuku.

It might sound conceited for him to be thinking such about allowing people to follow their hearts, but for him, as someone who being raised as the leader due to his mark, everything seemed to be falling apart for him. He was supposed to be #1 for being the best of the best, Now, without the moral he was raised with, what will he do? He growled, ignoring the newspapers strewn across the coffee table from where his father must have left them. He already knew what they read, and how 'Soulmarks don't necessarily determine one's true soulmate.’

He hated it, how everything he has hyped himself up to be, all because he got his soulmark first, was a lie. He growled, clenching his fists as the thought of failure began to race through his mind. honestly, he didn't even know why he cared so much- why he was getting riled up over something so stupid in the first place.

Maybe it was because he was sick and tired of being alone, and maybe it was because he was sick of seeing the bold, black letters on the newspapers around him, all of them mocking him with the same message: "You’re a failure.”

Well, if he was unable to be the best with one domain, he'd have to depend on the other. Smoke beginning to rise from his soulmark side hand, Bakugou stared at his mark, the red on it the only color he has ever come to know.

Clenching his fists, he felt the embers burning into his flesh, a feeling that has kept him grounded ever since he first realized that life wasn't fair. Shoving the newspapers to the side, Bakugou pulled down his sleeve, And for the first time, Bakugou Katsuki decided he hated the color red.

Chapter Text

     U.A was definitely a strange thing for Bakugou. He had seen the rankings from the entrance exam and, though he had gotten first place by a fair margin, there were quite a few others on there that had gotten his attention. Not that he’d admit it, of course. But since he was now going to become a hero, he had to know who he had to look out for, and who he had to beat. Besides shitty Deku, there was another name on the list. Kirishima Eijirou, ranked number 2 in the entrance exam.

A clear threat, it seems, for Bakugou didn’t yet know his quirk. Even though he didn’t yet know him, or anyone for the matter, nothing could have prepared him for when it happened.

God, there he was, walking into this room, pants sagging and tie nonexistent when it first happened. Color bloomed from all sides of his vision, swirls of green, pink, blue, and red spreading all around him, Holy shit, he hated himself for hoping, hoping that maybe- just maybe, he could fall in love.

It wasn’t hard to figure out who his soulmate was. Maybe it was the way Bakugou’s heart involuntarily clenched whenever he heard that loud and happy laugh resonating throughout the hallways, maybe it was the sincere, truthful smile that always managed to brighten his day. Maybe it was the way he threw his arm around Bakugou’s shoulder, and how Bakugou knew that he should shrug him off, for he had a reputation to maintain, but his warmth was just so comforting, so.. loving, that he could never bring himself to do it.

Maybe it was just him.

Ever since the day he first met him, Bakugou knew that Kirishima was the epitome of red; his burning passion towards becoming a hero, his hair, his fiery personality, and his stupid love for everything and everyone. It was ridiculous yet endearing in the ways that everyone else was not. And, though it took some time, Kirishima almost made Bakugou love red once again.

~

“My name is Kirishima!” Kirishima chided, a exasperated expression on his face as he waved his hands around.

Bakugou only shruggedshrugging over the other boy. He knew very well who he was, but, even though he had come second in the entrance exam, there was nothing memorable about him besides his shitty hair, and that stupid red stripe on his wrist that should be grey- but it wasn’t because it turns out that Kirishima fucking Eijirou is his fucking soulmate and- Kirishima didn’t seem to notice his expression, and continued, “Now come on, you need an unwavering horse that can handle your explosions, right? With my quirk, I can do just that.”

He hardened his arm, the red stripe coming to mix in with the hardened skin, as if it was a scar that never really faded away. Unconsciously touching his own wrist, Bakugou grinned. Well, he had a point. Feelings aside, he was ready to fucking crush their competition.

Looking to the side, he sees two others who were rallying for his attention. Quirks: acid and tape. Perfect. “Raccoon eyes, Soy Sauce, Shitty hair. Let’s go.”

~

He didn’t expect much out of them, but he knew that they could at least contribute to his success. So when Kirishima was able to surpass him- when he was able to hold his own against him in the sports festival, Bakugou had to do his best to hide his surprise. There he was, that goddamn sunshine child, grinning at him as his explosions bounced off his hardened shape.

Bakugou gritted his teeth, wiping at the small cut that kirishima had managed to inflict on him with his hardened fist. So there’s more to him than his hardening, eh? He dodged as another punch was thrown at him, involuntarily taking a few steps back in order to dodge the upcoming assault of punches thrown his way.

He wasn't used to being on the defensive, but it wasn't like he was inexperienced with it. Even with that cocky grin on his face, Bakugou knew that there had to be something that would give him weakness away. He watches as the skin seems to harden and shift each time Kirishima throws a punch, leaving one area soft while the other is hard.

And then, it came to him. Hardening means bulk, which is defense. If he wants to keep up that defense, he can’t handle being offensive for too long, especially with him constantly having to shift his quirk throughout certain areas of his body.

It made so much sense. Bakugou smirked, ducking under a right hook. He grabbed Kirishima's arm, pushing it to the side so it wouldn’t be in the way of his next moves- so he couldn't deflect it with his quirk. Conjuring his quirk ul up from the palms of his hands, Bakugou let loose, launching flurry after flurry of explosion against the other boy.

Even with his armor, his constant moving state would be more than enough to knock him out of it. ”Die!” he yelled, sparks erupting from the palms of his hands. (but he didn't really mean it) Surprisingly, Kirishima held his own, taking hit after hit until suddenly, with a pained look and a big blast to the stomach, Bakugou knew he had struck gold.

And with that, Kirishima fell to the ground, clutching his stomach with a pained look. Bakugou panted, letting his hands fall to his sides as Midnight began to announce his victory. The match was over.

“The winner is Bakugou!”

As he watched Kirishima be carted away, he panted, wiping the blood off his face. The victory wouldn’t be one that would go into the history books, he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t impressed, for few had made it that far against him. Maybe some of the people in his class had promise after all.

~

Kirishima was one of the few he actually respected, for he had done well for himself, and though Bakugou wouldn’t admit it, he actually enjoyed his company. But with Kirishima, came his band of idiots that seemed to have attached themselves to Bakugou’s side ever since that first sports festival.

He hated it that he was beginning to like the idiots, even Raccoon Eyes, who stuck her nose into every single fucking thing- especially Bakugou’s taste in clothing.

-

It was a sight to behold. Bakugou stood in his doorway, taking in the sight of his room. The window was open, his curtains flowing gently with each little gust of wind, his desk was astray, the pencils and papers all strewn in random directions. Then there was his closet. Holy shit.

Clothes were scattered everywhere, his spare uniform was laying haphazardly in his bed, his T-shirt’s were all across the floor. There was no way in hell that he had done this. But then there was Mina Ashido, otherwise known as Pinky, who never seemed to live by anyone else’s rules.

“Baku, sweety, you live like this?” She said, shaking her head as she held up his collection of skull T-shirts from her place in the middle of his floor, surrounded by his other stuff.

“Why the fuck are you in my room?”

He reached into his pocket for his keys, which were the things that let him into the room. Without it, there was no way in hell that anyone could get in. He took a step towards her, anger nearly reaching a boiling point as he saw how bad the mess that she made was.

She only laughed, shrugging the T-shirt’s off her lap as she got up. She walked towards him, clearly knowing no form of fear as he towered over her, his brow furrowed as he gritted his teeth. Then she reached out her hand, and fucking booped his nose.

“The window is open for a reason, Blasty.” She winked at him, and strolls out his door without another word. Fists clenched, Bakugou wonders why he hasn’t killed her yet.

But he full well knew that, though Kirishima would never hurt him, Kirishima’s disappointment in him over the possible matter of Mina’s dead body would be way worse (plus, he was starting to like her. He hated that fact).

 -

Then there was Kaminari, that goddamn idiot that didn’t know when to shut up. Like holy shit, we get it that you think that 2013 memes are superior, but that doesn’t mean you’re right.

“Hey look, Bakugou, it’s the good kush.” Kaminari said, holding up the bag of oregano that bakugou was using for his pasta. Bakugou paused his cutting, slowly turning his head to look at him, eyes narrowing as he stared at the blonde in front of him.

Kaminari only grinned, shaking the bag and holding it in front of Bakugou's face in a challenging matter, as if he expected Bakugou to do something about it, which he did.

Snatching the bag from him, he turned back to his cutting board, not breaking eye contact as he responded: “This is the dollar store, how good can it be?”

Kaminari nearly choked, eyes wide and watering as he stared up at Bakugou. In shock (ha,get it?), he let out a little ‘oh’, mouth opening and closing stupidly, like a fish! Taking a moment to cough and regain his bearings, Kaminari got up from his place in the counter, all but sprinting from the kitchen in his efforts to spread the fact that Bakugou Katsuki- the hardass of class 1-A, fucking memes. Bakugou only chuckled to himself as he set himself back to work, a smirk on his face as he envisioned the others reactions. No one would ever believe him.

There was Sero, the least idiotic guy of the group, if Bakugou had to be honest. Bakugou somewhat enjoyed his company, but he would never admit it. Sero was smarter than he let people think, and Bakugou respected him for not being as blatantly stupid as the others, as well as his strategic nature. It was a nice change of pace. (especially since Raccoon Eyes and Pikachu, even though they were strong fighters, were terrible strategists). As the two mom friends of their little group, was their duty to stop the others from potentially doing even more stupid shit. But none of that applied when they were playing Mario kart. Because Sero was fucking good at it, and Bakugou was not going to lose that easily.

-

He could hear Ashido and Kaminari pretty much cackling from the sofa as they launched red shell after red shell in his direction, each and every single one of them hitting him head on. Bakugou growled as a lovely fucking blue shell hit him, sending him spiraling off the map and into the space around the track.

In the bottom left corner, he watched as his number went from 1st to 3rd, each and every npc mocking them as their place on the board got closer or farther from him.

As soon as the little turtle dude brought his character back onto the track, he sped ahead, easily surpassing the npc in front of him. In the moment in which he was pushed off the map, Ashido had somehow managed to get up from her 5th place spot to 3rd.

She cackled, her character racing with his for 2nd place. Sero was still ahead of him, never faltering as he sped on, eyes glued to the screen with that cocky grin plastered on his face, mocking him as Ashido bombarded him with those goddamn red shells.

Seriously, how the hell did someone in third place keep getting such a good item? It was complete and utter bullshit.

The race went on for a little while after that, each round passing by with with more screaming from Bakugou as more and more items bombarded him.

Then it was the final lap, and, with the four of them busy competing for first place, it was silent. Until.. “Yeet!” Sero screamed as Bakugou nearly passed him, somehow turning his fucking character around and launching a banana at Bakugou.

With a baited breath, all the players stared at the screen, awaiting the fate of the current second place player. Bakugou collided with the banana, spinning out of control. For a moment, everything seemed fine, until Mina’s character slamming into Bakugou’s, sending his character careening into the path of a green shell, which in turn pushed him off the map.

Where there had been silence, there was now chaos.

Bakugou fucking screamed, pretty much blasting his controller across the room as his character was dropping in the rankings.

Ashido started choking on her laughter as she followed Sero across the finish line, taking second place from Bakugou.

“What a fucking power move!” Kaminari cried, literal tears in his eyes as his character sped past and took third. Sero laughed, clutching his stomach as he watched the results show up on screen. Smoking fists clenched and, without another word, Bakugou got up and stomped off towards his room.

“Hey, turns out Bakugou rage quits.” Sero chuckles, picking up the discarded controller from the other side of the common area. Surprisingly, there were no cracks. “Sero, are you really surprised about that?” Ashido flung herself across the couch, leaning her legs on Kaminaris lap as she settled, “Even if our boy has some anger issues, we love him anyway.”

“We could do without the anger issues though,” Kaminari muttered, earning a light smack on the back of his head from Ashido. “Hey, don’t let Kiri know you said that,” she pauses, shrugging after thinking it over, “But we take what we get, after all, we have you.”

”Hey!”

-

They were clearly something else, but with each and every thing that they did, Bakugou found himself being pulled in (not because he was being physically dragged either).

He had a soft spot for these idiots, as told by his constant (not very well hidden) eye rolls and smirks. Oh well. He was in too deep. 

Even if he liked them, there was one thing about them that set them apart from what he was really looking for. 

Though there were similarities between them all, they were no Kirishima.

-

There was Kirishima, and even though he was friends with those guys, he was different. No matter what he did, he was always there, a constant presence in the back of his mind as he tried (keyword: tried) to go about his day in peace. But no, no matter where he went, there were always thought of his stupid red hair, that cheesy smile, and his chest.

Though Kirishima's hero costume made literally no sense, Bakugou had to thank whoever put it together because goddamn, those pecs are enough to make been the straightest guys question their sexuality. So yeah, Bakugou might be a little gay for Kirishima, but then again, how could he not be? Everyone in the class had taken a liking to Kirishima, attaching themselves to him whenever they saw fit- something the definitely didn't make Bakugou mad. Needless to say, he hated it- all of it. especially if it caused to him to lose focus.

~

Leaning his head on his open palm, Bakugou huffed, staring at the board with mild disinterest as Present Mic droned on and on about irregular conjugations, or something along the lines of that; Bakugou didn't really care, for he was already ahead in this kind of thing.

He looked around the room, eyes narrowed. For the most part, everything seemed normal. Kaminari was fucking around with Jirou, who was acting as if she wasn't paying attention to Kaminari’s endeavours, but that soft smile on her face wasn't fooling anyone. Idiots, he thought, rolling his eyes. Who has time for that romance shit?

However, his eyes were drawn to that obnoxious shade of red a few rows away from him, and he couldn't help but sigh. Even now, Kirishima looked like he was about to fall asleep, head sleepily held up by his arm. His eyes drooped as he played with the end on his pencil, watching it roll back and forth across his desk. With nothing but the ticking if the clock accompanying the boredom in his mind, Bakugou had enough sense to know he was staring, but he couldn’t help it, especially when he looked so.. vulnerable.

Long lashes fluttered against pale cheeks, lids on the verge of closing. That idiot, he always was falling asleep in class, and, even if he did look good doing it, it was obviously impacting his grades. But hey, even if they were tedious, Bakugou wasn't complaining about having a few extra study sessions with him.

“Bakugou, What’s the answer to 5?”

Bakugou jolted of his suptor, blinking slightly as he turned to face the teacher. Fuck. He just got exposed- bamboozled yet again. Present Mic stared at him expectantly, a cocky grin on his face, as if he picked on him on purpose.

Which is what he did. Why do teachers always have to pick on those who clearly aren't ready? There is a ’raise your hand if you know’ rule for a reason.

Then again, Bakugou was almost always prepared. But there was that one weak point of his- one with red hair and that stupid smile. When it came to Kirishima, he was never prepared. Stupid fucking Mic, he grumbles, burying his hands in his pockets. He slouched in his seat, hands no longer fumbling with the pencil in his hands.

He scanned the board, furrowing his brow as he analyzed each answer. It had been seconds, yet with everyones eyes on him, it felt never centuries. He knew that everyone knew what was going on, and how he, the future number 1 hero, had been caught off guard.

Fuck, he thought, quickly picking an answer, this is stupid. ”It’s B.” he hissed out, slouching even more in his seat, eyes cast in shadow. He didn't wait for his teachers answer, only glaring when he saw Present Mic move.

Present Mic only shook his head, that infuriating smile on his face mocking Bakugou, “You’re right, but you need to pay attention next time.” Even without his loud (usually louder) voice, Bakugou felt the words echo throughout the room, and goddamn, it might have been a small mishap, but he felt small, as if he had failed something.

Grumbling to himself, he sunk down in his desk, hands buried deep within his pockets. He could hear the snickers from Kaminari, who sat next to him, and Bakugou, though somewhat embarrassed, had enough resolve to shut him up with a glare.

Staring down anyone who was willing to comment on his inability to quickly answer the question, he surveyed the room, looking for a challenge. What he wasn’t ready for, though, was when Kirishima turned to him, his usually bright grin on his face. He didn’t say much, only meeting Bakugou's eyes with that infuriating look- one that Bakugou couldn't really place a word on. It was a mixture of ’it’s okay,’ and ’it isn't that bad.’ And shit, there it was, the one thing that Bakugou hated more than disrespect.

Pity.

It wasn't until Present Mic had his back turned to them the anyone tried to converse with him. Honestly, he wasn't sure if he even wanted people to talk to him. Especially not when someone had the bright idea of flinging one of those stupid paper airplanes into his face. Snatching it out of thin air, he growled, ready to snap at whoever had the bright idea to challenge him.

He met Kirishima’s eyes, and he paused. The redhead was looking back at him or- well, at the paper in his hands, and was smiling. Of course, he is the only one idiotic enough to mess with him when he was mad. Well he knows that he's the only one who can get away with that kind if thing. Sighing, he fumbled with the paper, opening up that little paper airplane.

Chicken scratch was scattered across the ripped paper, and, if it had been anyone other than Bakugou reading Kirishima’s writing, it would've been completely illegible. Seriously, Aizawa deserved a medal for putting up with this shit.

He squinted at the words on the piece of paper, glancing up every now and again when Mic decided to turn around and challenge the other poor souls of class 1-A. But even at a glance, Bakugou could tell what was written.

Are you okay? I've never seen you so out of it.

A frowny face followed the words, along with a few other doodles that Bakugou couldn't help but smile at. He rolls his eyes, and writes back.

Yes, I'm fucking fine.

He was tempted to write more, but he had a reputation to uphold, so, he threw it back to Kirishima, nearly nailing Sero in the face as he did so.

Ignoring the raven haired boys unamused look, he watches as Kirishima takes the note from Sero’s hand, reading it with a smile once he unravels it. For real, what's up with that dude and smiling? Seriously, Bakugou could write a speech containing 34 different uses of the word ’fuck’ and Kirishima would probably smile through it, probably even going as far as giving a standing ovation at the end.

The note was quickly thrown back, the chicken scratch on the paper no different in style than the one before, however, the message was different.

Well, okay I guess, but it’s good to hear that you're okay :)

Bakugou could only sigh, shoving the note deep in his pocket while he tried to hide his reddening cheeks with his closed palm. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kirishima smiling, doodling random things into the margin of his notebook. Such distractions were probably why he has shitty grades, but this dude is too fucking bright and pure.

He hated(read: loved) it.

Though he could do without the concern, he was glad that Kirishima was thinking about him. Especially when the redhead was one of the only things on his mind.

Chapter Text

   It was during moments like these, Bakugou mused, that he realized that Kirishima became his rock, a constant stability within his life that he just knew that he could always rely on.

He was unbreakable in the real way, after all. When things got particularly tough, and when it was uncertain whether or not he would come out of a situation alive, Bakugou had no choice but hold on to this bond, pulling it closer to himself as if it was a lifeline.

Even in times of doubt, he wasn't alone; he had Kirishima waiting for him.

He can't give up.

~

”Stay back, Deku.”

Okay, so being kidnapped is definitely not fun. In the days that he was trapped there, through the haze of hunger and sleep, Bakugou would be lying if he said he wasn't afraid. Terrified would be a better word. But no, he couldn't let it show, baring his teeth at the villains in front of him, screaming bloody murder whenever they came around him.

If looks could kill, they would surely be dead. It was too bad that they didn't, for he was still trapped there, chined down, as the villains spoke over him- as if he wasn't even there.

“He most certainly has a strong quirk,” the warp gate fucker said, gesturing down at him with mild interest as he conversed with hand fucker, who sat at some sort of bar.

Seriously, who the fuck keeps a kid chained up in some kind of bar? Where's the secret hideout? Where's the security? It was ridiculous.

He growls, and honestly, he might not be able to get anywhere with his glares, but, the second they let him go, his fists will do the talking. They don’t do much for a while, until that stupid hand guy speaks, voice raspy and smile chapped, “We’re alike in more ways than one, you know,” he says, turned to Bakugou as he speaks, “we both have what it takes to be a villain.”

Screw the chapstick, with that raspy voice, someone better get this dude a glass of water.

Bakugou only glares back at him, honestly not giving a single fuck about his words. Alike? Similar? No fucking way.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” he speaks, pulling against his chains. Damn, stupid chains. If they weren’t there, he’d be out of this joint already.

There's a sigh, “I wish you would listen,” The hand fucker- Shigaraki, grins, holding out a hand to Bakugou. It was a gesture that highly conflicted with the actual use of his quirk, for Bakugou knew that he would be fucked if he touched all five fingers, but he decided to indulge him.

”I thought we might understand each other.”

Bakugou barks out a laugh, the chains pulling taut around him as he moves, “Nope!” He can barely get the words out, choking on both his amusement and fear in spite of his confident facade. Fuck, was he really that bad? To be able to possibly ’understand’ someone as fucked up as Shigaraki? No, no- he was a hero- he looked up to All Might, who would definitely he coming for him. He isn’t alone in this, and, even if these people- these villains think he's fucked up, then they’re wrong.

Right?

“So, you didn't exactly answer me,” Shigaraki lifts his hands to his neck, running a thumb over the cracked flesh. Seriously, everything about this dude seemed chapped, “we would like for you, the one with an incredible quirk, to join us. What do you say?” The fact that he mentioned his quirk was enough to make Bakugou shudder.

He heard them talking earlier. Saying how both Nomu and One for all are able to take the quirks of others and use them for themselves- permanently, leaving the one who they took it from quirkless. Fuck, no, there’s nothing worse than being quirkless.

“Shitty Deku, what’s the use of living if you don’t even have a quirk?”

Would that really be my purpose? Shaking off his doubt, he grins once more, meeting Shigarakis eyes(hand?) with his own eyes. “Let me up and I’ll show you,” Bakugou speaks, a clear challenge in his voice, and he knows how stupid he’s being.

He's acting on a hope; a small flame that sees to have ignited within him. He can try to take them on. From behind him, he hears the static of the tv, the blurred words coming together in hardly decipherable sentences, but they were there.

The screen was flcikering to life, and he sees the image of his principal, Nezu. That dog, rat, bear thing. No matter what he is, the image gives him hope. ”We are hardly going about this lightly,” his principal stands strong, nodding at his teacher, Aizawa, who stands next to him, eyes determined. “We will retrieve our missing student.” The flame within him only grows brighter as Shigaraki shrugs, waving a hand to warp fucker as he speaks. (how does he speak with that hand covering his face anyway? )

”Unchain him, Dabi.” The other villains look at each other uncertainty, Magne and Twice choosing to back away from the boy. The scar fucker, Dabi, a guy with a cremation quirk, only scoffs. ”Shigaraki, you better know what you’re doing.” The black haired boy clenched his fists, sparks of purple and blue escaping the cracked between his fingers. He was clearly a threat, but fuck it- since when has Bakugou ever backed down? “I’m not stupid; someone else better do it.” He turns his back to Bakugou, not really giving a damn.

Bakugou didn’t know why he was here if he wasn’t willing to do something like that- if he wasn’t willing to follow his leader.

“You sure about this, Tomura?” Kurogiri says, fog outstretched, pushing Twice forward to untangle the chains, ignoring he said villains grunt of displeasure. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Shigaraki holds out both of his hands, 10 fingers outstretched and displayed at Bakugou. It’s a clear threat, but Bakugou can’t really bring himself to care.

”We just gotta treat him as an equal. After all,” Shigaraki smirks, ”our little U.A student must be smart enough to know that he can't win.”

Bakugou growls right back, a smirk on his face as Twice bends down to undo his chains. ‘Not win’ his ass. Bakugou might be smart, but he doesn’t know what it’s like to lose, and there’s no way in hell that he’ll find that out today. He knows he should be wary, but fuck it. He has to think of something, to get out of there.

That's why, the second his chains are off his hands, he’s ready.

He leaps to his feet the second he hears the little resounding click of the locks breaking, throwing his chains to the side. Palms already crackling, he looks at the villains, who have come to a close around him. Twice, the one who was the one who undid his chains, backed off, eyes narrowed as Bakugou advances on them. They seemed to have expected such a response, for they all had their quirks and weapons(in the case of that one blonde chick) drawn.

”God, I have it when people like you can't just get to the point!” He yells out, the post from which he was sitting on collapsing behind him as he squared up, eyes narrowed, “You’re basically saying: we want to cause trouble, join us!” As smoke begins to billow around him, he grins, staring into Shigaraki’s covered eyes, “What a fucking joke!” He leaps, fire crackling from his open palms as he slams his hand into Shigaraki’s face, a strangled laugh escaping his lips as the hand covering the villains face went flying, revealing the face of the villain beneath.

This is all too familiar, the odds of this fight, he can't help but think, but he remembers, remembers the way he used to act when he was younger- when he and Midoriya were... when he and Deku got along.

~

3 kids stand near a television store, faces pressed up to the cool, glass windows as they watch the televisions inside. On the screen, a hero faces off against numerous villains, but he does not waver, that smile on his shadowed face never faltering as he prepares to fight.

”It’s a four on one! There's no way he can win, right?” a much younger Bakugou exclaims, fingers pointing at the villains on screen, ”but look, there!” he shakes his fist, wiggling in excitement as he watches all might- his favourite hero, take down the villains one by one.

”See?” Mocking the hero on screen, he looks at Midoriya, red eyes shining as he follows the hero on-screens lead. ”Punch, dodge, and then feint!” he grabs Midoriya’s arm, playfully punching it. Midoriya laughs, all might plushie gripped in his hand as he watches Bakugou and the screen in front of them. Bakugou smiles, looking up at the screen just as All Might defeats the villains, his trademark smile on his face as he poses for the photographers.

”I can't wait to be a hero!”

~

Moments like that are why.. He thinks, standing tall as he glares at the villains around him, ”I've always admired the heroes of this world, and All Might’s Triumph!” He yells, facing the numerous villains. He stood tall, unafraid. He isn't alone in this, even if it seems like it.

He remembers, and he sees the hope and admiration in Midoriya’s eyes as he looks up to All Might and Bakugou himself. He sees red. He remembers the shine in Kirishima's eyes when he fights, the shine in his eyes whenever he stands up for what’s right, the shine whenever he looks at him.

Though All Might may be his hero, Kirishima would always be his number 1.

He knows he can be a hero- for them, and for the world. He can't give in.

”And no matter what any of you idiots say,” he says, trying his best to ignore the sweat that was beginning to drip down his face, ”nothing is ever going to change that!”

Even with the balant challenge, Shigaraki held back, mouth in a frown as he surveys Bakugou's behavior. He mustn’t be very smart, Bakugou muses, for who lets their prisoner go before they’ve taken what they want?

The fact that he wants his quirk is rather unnerving as well, but Bakugou pushes it to the back of his mind, his mouth pulling into an uncertain frown as he prepares to fight.

Fists clenched, eyes narrowed, he surveyed the villains in front of him.

There was Shigaraki, the hand fucker, the one with those chapped lips and crusty hands. Bakugou cringed at the sight of him, for he, even though he walks with his pants sagging and wears nothing other than skull shirts out of his uniform, has a sense of public decency when it comes down to appearance. Though attitude is another factor, as many people have told him, he at least knows that someone like that- with those crusty ass hands- should never be let out in public. Seriously, someone get this dude a chapstick.

There was that warp villain- the one who looked like a copyright Ghastly. Personally, out of all the villains, he seemed to be the smartest. Why he became a villain in the first place is something Bakugou can't figure out. He seems sensible, but Bakugou knows that fucking gastly over here can kick his ass- well, he could teleport him over a pit of lava or something. That wouldn't be fun.

There was that crazy chick- the one who ingests blood in order to work her copying quirk. Seriously, Bakugou never liked blood quirks, for it just seemed so disgusting. She’s harmless as long as she doesn’t stab him it some shit. He can’t let this end up like like that one “I’ve been impaled” meme.

He shudders at the thought of him being dismembered. But no- no. He is not going to die here. Fists clenched, he stared at the last guy, his competition.

The guy with the cremation quirk. He would have an elaborate nickname for him, but ever since he commented about Todoroki’s scar, he could never forget the chiding that Kirishima gave him. (“That’s pretty rude, my dude.”)

Anyway, that isn’t the point. Quirk-wise, they aren’t that different, for both their quirks have to do with that of fire. However, this dude wasn’t someone to fuck with, because unlike Bakugou (who, on the contrary to popular belief, had some morals), this guy was willing to kill- happy to, really.

There were three others, but Bakugou couldn't really find it in himself to remember what their quirks were.

One had the stupid marble quirk- something he fucking hated, since it's what got him here. The other two had other strong quirks as well. Even if he didn't quite know what they were, they weren't to be underestimated.

It wasn’t looking good, but when has anything like this ever been defined as good? They wanted him, his quirk, his allegiance to them, his status as an upcoming hero. They can't hurt him, if they wanted him so badly.

”Get it now, league of scumbags?” He grins, realizing just how much this entire debacle had been tipped in his favor, ”Just so you know, I still have permission to fight back!” his hands shake, and Bakugou can't help but think about his classmates and teachers.

Aizawa probably wouldn't approve of his rash way of acting, but what else could he do? Even if he dies here, he’d rather go out with a (pun not intended) bang than die a coward. There’s Midoriya- Deku, the one who probably would have thought of a way out of this mess, the one who probably wouldn’t have gotten in this situation in the first place.

Fuck, if only he had stayed close to him at the camp, then none of this would have happened. He wouldn’t have been fucking snatched if only he had listened. And then there’s Kirishima. Bakugou hopes he's okay, hopes that Kirishima is thinking about him. He hopes that the idiot- and his friends don’t do anything rash while he isn't there.

Being engulfed in this thoughts, he almost misses Shigaraki’s next comment: ”You sure about not joining us?” Shigaraki grins, picking the extra hand up from the floor and sticking back to his face.

Bakugou only snorts, ”If I'm not feeling something, I ain’t gonna lie about it.” He holds his hands out in front of him, sparks beginning to crackle across the thick skin, ”and I'm not in the mood to hang around this dump any longer!”

He hears Shigaraki mutter some stupid shit, something about having his ’master’ lend him some power.

”Master? I thought you were the leader around here. Pretty disappointing.” He spat, taking a step forward once more. Fuck, if only he wasn't’ stuck in such a small room, then he would be able to blow these fuckers to smithereens.

It isn't very heroic, but goddamn it, they've caused so much trouble for both him and his classmates. Shit, that kind of attitude is what made them kidnap him in the first place.

Ignoring his self doubt, he eyes the door behind the circle of villains. He didn’t necessarily need to fight, if he could get past these villains, he’d be able to blast himself out. He needed to keep an eye on that warp ducked though, because that quirk only causes more problems. But, before he can do something, a rumbling sound fills his ears.

“Hello, Kamino pizza delivery!”

From behind him, there’s a knock on the door, and Bakugou can’t help but look back as those words resonated throughout the room.

The villains looked confused as well, each staring at the door with their eyes narrowed, but before they could do anything, The door broke down, something similar to that of the “mom hOLY FUCK” meme.

It was rather ridiculous really, for all the villains paused their attack to stare, which only gave Bakugou the chance to get away from them, taking a chance to lunge at the open exit, hope beginning to ignite within him along with his explosions. He would fight if he had to, but for fucks sake, he wanted out. He wanted to see the trees, see the sky, see his friends- he didn't want to be be trapped here any more. He sees the pro heroes. And, in his daze or hunger and fatigue, he feels a few pass by him. That doesn’t stop the feeling of protection when he feels a large hand in his shoulder, or when that familiar booming voice registers into his mind.

“Bakugou, my boy, you don’t need to fight anymore.” It was all too fast, all of this. One moment, he was sitting there, chained, mind racing with the adrenaline pumping through his veins, another, he’s here, frozen, yet his fists are still itching to explode. But now he feels safe, especially when All Might- his hero was there, reassuring him- saving him.

“We will get you out of here.”

He was relieved, but as Bakugou stepped away, ready to back up his hero, he heard the number one hero speak up once again:

”You no longer need to worry, for I am here!”

But as those familiar words echoed throughout the room, Bakugou felt like he was falling as if he had been swept off his feet within murky waters; as if he’s just dunked his head underwater, like he’s in the ocean and the current is pulling him under. He's drowning, too numb, too stunned to feel anything like horror or fear at what was going on.

He was wrapped in the mist, the haze swirling about him in a mix of purples and blacks. He screamed, trying to find purchase on any of the sides, so he could pull himself up and out of it. There was none. He felt as though he was falling in an endless pit, him twisting and turning as he tried to find balance, but the unpredictability of the weight of gravity around him threw him off. He knew he was being warped somewhere, and he couldn’t help but scream in frustration.

They had been so fucking close. He had almost gotten himself out of there. But no, here he was again, at the mercy of some stupid fucking villains because he’s too weak to be defending himself. And then there was the battle and the constant feeling of fear as he was teleported to another base, a bigger one, one that was full of destruction.

Fuck, they had been so close. Edge-shot had literally been right there when he was snatched away. But fuck, he couldn’t get himself out of that mess, and now he’s here, the biggest fucking villain in the world squaring up against All Might, the symbol of peace. Bakugou almost couldn’t believe his eyes. How did all this go to shit so quickly? 

”All Might!” He screams, pulling himself against his hazy restraints as he stands up, straining his eyes to see over the smoke that seemed to have Fuck, fuck, fuck. This wasn’t good. It was all a blur, they fall of rubble as it is blasted to the side, the fear in All Might’s dark eyes whenever anything comes particularly closely to hitting Bakugou.

Fuck, he hated being like this- a burden- a liability, but there’s not much to do besides blast at the villains and falling rubble around him. He knows be has to get out of there, for all might sakes, but that's pretty much impossible with the strongest fucking villain in the world was right there, ready to blast him down at a moment's notice. He knows All Might can't release his full power with him around, but shit.

Come on, fucking THINK.

He had to be the number 2 student in his class for a reason, right? He could get himself out of here, he had to. He had come so close before (even if he did have help) and he’d be damned if he didn’t do it right now. But there’s no time for any elaborate plans. There's no time for any hit and run tactics. Whatever he had to do, he had to do it now. So, in a situation like that, what would you do? Bakugou did the one thing that he knew to do:

Fight.

He clenched his fists, feeling the familiar crackling underneath the skin of his palms, and grins, feeling the raw power rushing through his veins once again.

He might be a burden to All Might, but he could at least fucking try to help instead of standing there like some goddamn coward.

But from the corner of his eyes, as smoke began to come out of his hands, Bakugou's sees something that he never would have expected. From above, Bakugou’s eyes meet red, the colour of blood, the colour of passion, Eijirou’s color.

“Take my hand!”

An outstretched hand, wide eyes, red. Before he knew it, Bakugou was sailing out from across the battlefield, flames in his wake as he used them to propel himself up.

Higher, higher, higher.

Fuck- he didn't even know why he was doing this, but seeing the look in Kirishima's eyes- eyes so vibrant, so red- he knew he had to follow.

As he rose up to meet them as they sailed across the war zone, Bakugou wanted to cry, the tears he had kept inside for so long threatening to spill out of his narrowed eyelids.

As they sailed from above him, Kirishima reached out his hand, stretching out, fingers spread as he lunged for Bakugou. Each second that he took to think about the wreckage below him deducted their chances of getting Bakugou away from here. They couldn’t waste any more time. They had to go. Now.

Red were Bakugou’s eyes as he took Kirishima's hand in his, grasping it with the strength that they had both come to know. Kirishima squeezed his hand back, pulling him closer to the group as not to let him lag behind, a happy gleam in his eyes as he stared back at Bakugou.

Kirishima grinned, letting out a loud whoop as they sailed across the villains, Bakugou in tow. “You idiot,” he chided, but he couldn’t fight the grin that had found it’s way to his face.

The red mark on his wrist seemed to burn as he and Kirishima looked into each other’s eyes, everything else fading into a blue until all he could see was red. Kirishima’s eyes were such a deep red, genuine appreciation and gratitude making them warm, and Katsuki felt himself being pulled in.

He managed to avert his eyes, his face heating up quickly. It was really fucking unfair how gorgeous this redheaded idiot was, even when they were in the middle of this goddamn mess. Below them, Bakugou didn’t even think about all the damage(nor did he want to), instead looking back up and allowing the red to encapture him once more.

With a somber expression on his face, he smiled, a tiny thing, as they flew past.

It was a smile meant for Kirishima.

Chapter Text

    Then there were the nightmares. Dreams are never the same in real life. In those shitty movies Pikachu and Raccoon eyes always forced him to watch, the characters jolted up, sometimes with a scream, sometimes with heavy breathing, but nothingless, something happened.

It's never like that.

In real life, you open your eyes, taking in the darkness of the room around you, breathing heavily as you try to regain your bearings. It’s silent, the kind of silence that weighs heavy, pressing down on you, constricting your every attempt at breath.

In movies, there's always a distraction, something to take the characters mind off such thoughts. In reality, there's nothing but a grim acceptance. But this time, when Bakugou's eyes fluttered open, he knew it wasn’t a dream.

It was a nightmare.

He stood in the middle of a courtyard of sorts, watching from the sidelines. Buildings were collapsed around them, their rubble scattered at his feet.

Bakugou didn’t have any time to think about the people who might have lived there, and what might have been their fate. Fuck, he didn’t want to think about it; his failure to protect people.

But it was hard not to think of failure when, in front of him, were two people he never wished to see in this position. All Might was kneeled over, blood rushing past his lips as he heaved out one final breath, going limp with a smirking All For One with his foot on his back. Wasn’t he supposed to be a hero? His knees shook from where he stood, but he couldn’t find it in himself to chide himself for being weak, the feeling of his heart racing is pure adrenaline. His hands were twitching at his sides, a cold sweat breaking out across his palms.

His head was pounding, his heart echoing in his ears, each quick and fluttering pound beating down on him. No- that couldn't be his own heart. It couldn't be him that was breathing in quick and ragged breaths, each and every shallow inhale causing the pounding within his mind to grow louder and louder.

No- the pounding- something that had grown to be near deafening in his shocked state- had to be from his explosions. The feeling in his throat has to be the lack of air being brought into his lungs. The clenching he’s feeling in his chest is his own explosions, something he’s ready to release the moment his body let's him fucking move. All of this- these feelings, had to be because of his sheer resolve to fight, right? There was no way in hell that he could ever succumb to something as stupid as fear.

He took in a shaky breath, and all Bakugou could see was red. The color of the fire that raged within his veins, the color of blood that was splattered across the motionless body before him, the color of the terror and disgust that calm with that fact that he knew- that everything was his fault, that All Might was dead, all because of him. He can't be scared. He is not scared- He’s terrified.

Fuck, if only he had taken Kirishima's hand. if only he hadn’t been so fucking weak- so fucking prideful, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. All for One turns to him, and Bakugou knows that he’s smirking, even under that stupid mask. Fuck, fuck, fuck! His palm twitches, and Bakugou feels a few tiny explosions come from them, but nothing enough to actually do damage.

He can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t even think, his entire body frozen because of the monster towering over him- All Might. Blood is spattered across the floor in front of him, a mixture of his own, All Might’s, and all the victims of tonight. It was hauntingly pretty, the rich velvet standing against such dark, monochromatic pieces of rubble, all of which were lit up by the silvery light the moon.

The moon was full, which is something that Bakugou couldn’t help but notice. It was something gorgeous; an art piece that someone could describe it as if they were to be blessed by the sight of it. However, such beauty only shrouded the sight of the danger within. His body ached, not just for relief, but to disappear. The damage was great, not just to him, but to the whole world; the loss too significant, too damning, in ways that everyone would be affected.

In all his days of fighting, of training, of wishing and hoping, Bakugou never would have thought that it would he who would lose- Deku maybe, but never him. Now, here he was hands shaking as his hero died in front of him, unable to even move- his body paralyzed by his fucking fear.

Weak. Pathetic.

Bakugo Katsuki isn’t the type to give up, but fuck, with all might gone, all because of him, what’s the fucking point of becoming a hero? And then, there was a hand on his shoulder. He turned, mind unfocused as he looked up at the figure behind him.

A chapped smile was looking down at him, a sickening expression in those crazy eyes that set Bakugou on edge. Yet no matter what he did, he couldn't move, he couldn't breathe- everything around him was too constricting, like it was crushing in on him from all sides.

As if a hand was wrapped around his neck.

Shigaraki had somehow placed 4 fingers around Bakugou's throat while he was in a daze, cursing Bakugou to curse himself for being unaware of such. Shigaraki turned Bakugou away from his view of All night and all for one, pushing him up against a large piece of rubble- a sign that was too destroyed to read.

”All Might is dead. That's certainly handy.” Shigaraki smirked, his yellow teeth and foul breath making Bakugou shy away from his split lips.

”Fuck you.” He glares at the villain, red eyes narrowed in nothing other than hatred. He raises his palms up slowly, not breaking eye contact so he wouldn’t bring attention to his hands.

The hand was still wrapped around his neck, the index finger only an inch or so off his skin. If it were to touch him, god- he would be so fucked. But, life isn’t fair, for he’s held there, trapped against his will. And he still can’t fucking move.

Shigaraki tsked, and, with no hesitation, pushed Bakugou to the ground, ignoring his hiss of pain when his previously raised hand snaps in an awkward angle from out underneath his twisted body.

“You really think I wouldn’t have noticed?” Shigaraki chuckles, shaking his head as he shoved Bakugou's head into the ground. Bakugou winced as he felt the sharp pieces of rubble dig in to his cheek, but he didn’t speak, eyes still meeting Shigaraki’s in a silent challenge.

“It’s too bad; you had so much promise.” Shigaraki whispered the words in his ear, making Bakugou shudder. From behind him, Bakugou could image Shigarakis hand reaching closer and closer- but fuck, he couldn’t do anything- he couldn’t move.

”Eat a dick,” he growled, somehow finding it in himself to spit in Shigaraki’s face. Shigaraki only grinned wider, his fingers coming to a tighter close around Bakugous neck.

And suddenly, he was screaming. Skin chipped off his neck at an alarming rate, and he could feel the blood rushing down his neck as his skin was melted away. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He couldn't handle this for much longer. Fuck, he couldn't breathe.

Not taking a second to think, He stuck out his palm, ignoring the odd angle in which it was set at, and fired. Flames ignited from his palms, the sheen of sweat on his hands catching ablaze quickly, colliding directly with Shigaraki. With a surprised yell, Shigaraki flung Bakugou to the ground, flinching back from the burst of flame as it erupted from the other boys hands.

He choked as he hit the ground, back slamming into the hard concrete below, but he had to go- had to move.

Trying his best to ignore the large, limp figure of All Might laying not too far away from him, Bakugou stumbled to his feet, ready to fucking dart out of there. From behind him, Shigaraki groaned, scratching at his neck as he rose to his feet. Even with that ugly hand thing covering his face, Bakugou could tell he was pissed.

He needed to get out of there. Now. All too suddenly, a barrier of flames blocked his exit, causing Bakugou to stumble to a halt before he was burnt to a crisp.

“For fucks sake. Shigaraki, just finish him already.” In front of him was the black haired fucker- the one with those ugly, mutilated pieces of flesh along his neck and eyes. Bakugou growled at him, raising his fists menacingly.

2 on 1 weren’t great odds for him, but he was Bakugou fucking Katsuki. He could kick ass ever since he got this fucking quirk. Even with a broken hand, a scarred and bloody neck, and his stupid, shaky legs, there’s no way in hell that he wasn’t going out with a fight.

But, just as he raised his fists to blast those fuckers into oblivion, a swarm of tentacles shot out from the side, catching bakugou by surprise as the latched around him. All too suddenly, Bakugou is reminded of that- that fucking slime monster. He chokes as the tentacles envelop him, thrashing and exploding as much as he possibly could while his hands were being bound up by those stupid things. Where they were coming from? Bakugou didn’t know, but as they wrapped around his body, tightening with each struggle, Bakugou couldn’t find it in himself to think, clawing and grabbing at the tentacles so they could just fuck off and let him fight.

Fuck, he just wants it to stop- all of it. He wants All Might back, he wants to be a good hero, he wants his friends- he wants Kirishima. He can’t give up yet, not if it means that he’ll never see them again- any of them. Reaching past the tentacles, he manages to open his eyes and see just who was doing this- just who was keeping him trapped here. All for one looks at them from the side, arms crossed against his chest. Even with the mask, Bakugou could tell that he was looking at him in contempt. God, he hoped the fucker would do nothing more than burn and rot in the hell that he belongs in. Shigaraki smirks as he seems to catch Bakugou’s attention on All For One.

Bakugou couldn't hear them, but it seems as though Shigaraki ordered him to be brought back down, for, before he knew it, he was being slammed down into the concrete, his ribs cracking at the force in which he was thrown. Bakugou choked, tasting blood as he retched. Blood spattered across the ground in front of him, and he could only think about how this must have been what all might felt like- broken, empty, unable to do anything with a child in the way. Fuck. He really ruined everything, didn’t he?

From his place on the ground, Bakugou could only muse about how quiet it was, even amidst all this destruction. It was as if no one had any more energy to scream, as if the ringing in his ears was mutual for all, as if the static in his head was a calm, alternate reality. Fuck, there he was, laying on the ground like a useless fucking child, only watching as Shigaraki came closer and closer, his fingers- all splayed out towards him. Fuck, he was going to die here, wasn't he?

”’Don’t you dare say that you'd rather lose! You're you because you never give up on winning, right?’”

He could only smile bitterly as those words- Midoriya's- came back to mind. That idiot, if he were in this situation, none of this would have happened; he’d probably be in police custody right now, for he would have thought of a way out of this- all of it. God, when did someone so pathetic manage to get so far ahead of him? Maybe he was the pathetic one. Fuck, he might be pathetic, but no- there was no way in hell that he was ready to die yet. He pushed himself up, his broken arms shaking with effort as he forced himself on, trying to keep himself alive. But fuck- this hurt. But, he couldn’t stop moving- if he did, the hand fucker would probably kill him. And then, there was a voice.

“Bakugou,”

He couldn’t quite hear the whispered words, but his name flashed clearly within his mind as he stared at a figure a few yards away from him. He squinted to see the figure, but his vision swam, causing him to see nothing but red. And fuck, the blurred rubble and the blood running down his face did nothing to help. It wasn’t one of the villains, Bakugou knew, for he wouldn’t have felt that little clench in his chest as they spoke. The faint spark of hope in his chest ignited even brighter, and suddenly, he felt the strength return to his legs, and he could move. If he could get to this person, he would be okay. But he had to move.

”Bakugou!”

It was louder this time, as if the figure realized what was going on- what was happening. He watched the figures mouth move, a few other words being uttered before he was running. Honestly, it didn’t feel real. It was as if he was walking through jello, each step dragged on and on, as if he wasn’t moving at all. Fuck- he knew he was going slow, but he couldn’t do anything else as more and more blood ran down his face, dribbling past his lips at every attempt at breath.

A figure appeared in front of him, then, and, though Bakugou couldn’t tell if it was from the blood or not, but the figures hair was red- a color he knew, a color that seemed so right on that person. he could tell it was someone he knew, someone that he was comfortable with. But, in his daze of pain and adrenaline, Bakugou couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

No, he blinked, looking to the back of him. Even if he was going as quick as he could, that Shigaraki fucker was still tailing him, seemingly walking as Bakugou dragged himself- trying to get farther and farther away with no actual results. The figure seemed to be running to him as well, but he didn’t seem to get any closer. Time was slowed down for Bakugou, as if the colors that he had come to know had faded, and he was in one of those old, black and white horror films that his father loved. But he knew that this was happening- that this was reality, and not some shitty sitcom. Footsteps echoed throughout his mind- but they were not his own.

The figure looked up, red eyes full of worry as he ran. That face.. There was something about it that gave him courage, something that gave him hope, something that gave him stability, which were all feelings that countered his fear. it made him even more determined, even more willing to keep pushing on. Taking another step forward, he stumbled, catching his raggedy pants on a piece of debris that lay on the ground. But he didn’t fall.

A hand held him up, one with all five closed around his arm. Bakugou clenched his eyes shut, waiting for it all to end- for his body to disintegrate to a pile of ash. But, nothing happened. He opened his eyes, blinking slightly as another face was looking into his own, one with worried red eyes, a mouth panting and showing his little fangs, and a head of red hair. It was all too familiar.

Kirishima.

His eyes widened as it all came back to him. He saw red, the color of his eyes as they met each other’s in silent agreement, the color of his hair- the thing that he hated yet felt so endearing, the color of his stupid room- the one full of old Crimson Riot posters, the color of his cheeks as they tinted in that sappy, pinkish hue that bakugou loved to see, for he was the one that brought it up, after all. Their eyes met in a silent conversation, and Bakugou could tell that he was scared yet relieved at the same time.

Lips in a tired smile, Kirishima opened his mouth to speak, only pausing as his eyes widened at something Bakugou couldn’t see. Bakugou numbly turned around, staring a smirking Shigaraki in the eye as the latter thrust his hand towards him, eager to take him out once and for all. And suddenly, Kirishima was in front of him, his skin hardened, prepared to take the hit for him as he wrapped his arms around Bakugou's back.

“No!”

But fuck, it wasn't enough. Kirishima's anguished scream ripped through the ruins of the city as Shigaraki's hand pressed up against his back. Skin flaked away, leaving nothing but marred, bloody skin in its wake, Kirishima thrashed, trying his best to keep himself hardened, but the pain was too much as his muscle and skin were being burned away. Kirishima might be flaking away, but he never faltered his hold on Bakugou, willing to protect him for as long as he possibly could.

Once again, Bakugou couldn’t move, finding himself frozen as he watched Kirishima- his best friend, his soulmate, fade away from in front of him.

“Eijirou!”

Chapter Text

“Katsuki!”

He wakes to the sound of his name being called. Firm hands were on his shoulders as he was shook awake, a roughness to them at Bakugou could barely identify.

Cracking an eye open, Bakugou's eyes met nothing but red- another’s eyes as they were widened with worry, the fall of his hair as it cascaded down his shoulders He frantically looked around, palms itching with the need to explode as he surveyed around his room, checking around for any signs of danger. There's a tightness in his chest that he can't shake off- the same tightness he felt when Kirishima had taken that hit for him and fuck- he had taken the hit for him. He was dead. He was dead.

”Bakug- Katsuki, it’s okay.” Bakugou could barely look at the figure in front of him, chest heaving as he fought to regain his bearings. His room swayed, his dizziness brought on by his panic. Fuck, why was he letting that dream get the best of him?

An outstretched hand, enough to kill. Tentacles as they wrapped around him, constricting him, killing him. A motionless figure, blood welling up from underneath him. The blank eyes of his best friend, the feeling of emptiness when he went limp in his arms, the spatter of blood- his blood, as his skin flaked away. Bakugou choked in a breath, cradling his head in his hands. God, it was too much.

Was he breathing erratically? Katsuki didn’t know, but there was a tightness in his chest that he couldn’t shake off. His heart was pounding, “Hey,” The voice said softly, tenderly, as a hand felt itself to Bakugou's jaw. Red eyes looked into his own, their worried gleam replaced with something more stable, more determined. “You need to breathe.”

Kirishima

Fuck, of course it had to be him- that idiot. He was always worried for other more than he was himself. Shit, just what time was it? Bakugou had enough conscious to look over to his alarm clock, which, in bright red numbers, read: 2:30am. Shit, the fuck was he doing here? Why was he wasting his time coming to see him instead of sleeping? He really needs his sleep, especially because of his internship.

Bakugou took in a short, weak breath, feeling his chest shudder from the work it took. But, even if he really shouldn’t be awake, Kirishima was alive and here with him, which is something Bakugou was thankful for. Bakugou felt his hand being taken into rough yet gentle ones. From there, Kirishima pressed Bakugou's hand to his chest, prying the clenched fingers apart.

“Like this,” Kirishima said and inhaled, before releasing a long breath. Bakugou tried to follow him, wheezing pathetically, but none the less, he tried. Fuck, why was he so pathetic? Here he was, weak, legitimately wheezing, and tired. God, no one was supposed to see him when he was like this.

“Bakugou,” Kirishima warned, as if sensing Bakugous displeasure. “You’re not weak for this, man.” Bakugou's head snapped up, mouth open, as if to speak, but all that exited was a weak shudder, followed by a few, quiet coughs. “I saw the look that you were giving me; you aren’t exactly a discreet person,” Kirishima smiled, watching Bakugou roll his eyes, as if he was saying ‘you’re the one to talk.’ Well, yeah, Kirishima knows that he can be an open person, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t know what it’s like to bottle up a few emotions.

“But really dude, we’ve all been there. Nightmares might not be real, but that doesn’t mean that we can just act like they don’t exist. Believe me, I know all about them,” Ignoring Bakugou's raised eyebrow, Kirishina continued, his eyes wandering to find Bakugou's once more. “But, you need to know that we’re all there for you- Mina, Sero, Kaminari, and me. I’m here for you.”

Silence. It took a while, both boys waiting for the other to speak as they thought. Bakugou knew very well what Kirishina was waiting for, if the question present in his wide eyes wasn’t too obvious. But, fuck; he didn’t want to think about it. Any of it. So he opted for something else.

”Why are you here?”

The words were quiet, but they were the first ones to break the silence. Kirishima smiled, as if happy that bakugou was finally talking, but he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I was hungry, so I ended up going to the kitchen. I met Iida out there, and, you know how it goes,” he says, shrugging.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, both at the suspicion of it, and the fact that he had clearly lied about meeting the other boy out there. It was nearly 3 in the fucking morning. Considering the fact that Iida went to bed around 9, there was no way in hell that that was happening.

“Iida went to sleep hours ago.”

The clear challenge in his voice made all questions that he might have had known. Kirishima sighed, dropping his hands to his sides. It was only then Bakugiu realized how close they were to each other. Kirishima was kneeling in front of him, hands fidgeting with his shorts as he searched for an appropriate answer.

“Fine, you caught me.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he spoke, ”I heard explosions coming from your room, and I was scared that something was happening to you.” Oh, so it turns out people really do have bad reactions to nightmares. So much for that “thinking and staring up at your ceiling” bullshit.

He looked down at his sheets, sighing slightly when he noticed the several burn marks from where his fists had been balled up in his blankets. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had a nightmare before, but it was never quite to this extent; it had never felt that real. A rough hand felt it's way into his own, curling around his tense fingers. Bakugou looked up, but didn’t pull away.

“Bakugou, are you okay?”

It wasn't the first time that he’s been asked that, hell, after the incident, that's all he’s ever heard. But, it had never been so sincere, so genuine, that- shit, Bakugou nearly felt the dams break. But no- he couldn't give into it. He couldn't allow himself to seem even weaker. He nodded slowly, squeezing Kirishima’s hand in his own, as if another confirmation.

Kirishima smiled slightly, squeezing back. ”You good to sleep now?” Bakugou nearly nodded, but the thought of closing his eyes and seeing nothing other than red made him think twice. Sensing his displeasure, Kirishima stood up, nearly yanking Bakugou to his feet when he forgot that their hands were intertwined. He smiled sheepishly, letting go. It was dark, but bakugou could see the hesitancy in Kirishima's face when he opened his mouth to speak.

“Wanna sleep in my room?”

Before he could stop himself, Bakugou nodded, throwing his covers off and onto the floor before he could refuse Kirishima. Kirishima's eyes widened, as if he hadn't expected the other boy to give in so easily- or to give in at all. Snatching his pillow and a blanket from the top of his bed, Bakugou stumbled over to Kirishima, seeming far too small at the moment.

Such a reaction was so not Bakugou, that Kirishima wondered what could have gotten him in such a state. Opening his mouth to ask, he pauses as his eyes meet Bakugou's, seeing nothing but uncertainty. The other boys brows were furrowed, uncertain, as if he was thinking about something.

”Hey,” He said, a small smile on his face, ”let's go.” Following Bakugou’s nod of confirmation, they wandered to the entrance of Bakugou’s room, waiting for Bakugou to lock the door before heading out into the hallway. They only had one other neighbor in the boy's wing, but they didn't want to risk waking him up. Placing a finger on his lips, Kirishima gestured towards Shouji’s door, which was located on the other side of Bakugou’s room.

Honestly, Bakugou didn't even know why they were bothering to be quiet for, if his explosions hadn't woken him up, there's no way in hell that them walking would. He only shrugged, dragging his blanket across the floor a little quieter than before; he was too drained to protest.

It didn't take long for them to get to Kirishima’s room, for they were right next to each other, but Bakugou couldn't help but muse about how different they were. It wasn’t the first time that he had been in Kirishima’s room, nor had it been the first time that Kirishima had been in his, their study sessions constantly causing them(read: Kirishima) to seek out the help from the other.

Posters lined the walls of Kirishima’s room, usually saying stupid things about manliness, or having some sort of relation to either All Might or Crimson riot. A punching bag sat in the corner, worn from overuse, yet it still seemed to be going strong, for Bakugou had seen Kirishima's hands wrapped earlier. (and he hoped that the sounds he heard from Kirishima’s bedroom were from his training, because Bakugou didn't know if he could handle the... Alternative.) Honestly, it was all a little ridiculous, but Bakugou found it at least somewhat endearing.

”Come on.”

Closing the door behind him, kirishima idled over to the bed- pretty much collapsing into it. Bakugou could only stare as Kirishima was engulfed by his bed, being buried by the numerous amounts of pillows and blankets that donned it. How they all got there, Bakugou didn’t know, especially since they were only allowed to bring four boxes worth of items into the dorms. Blinking sleepily, Kirishima lifted his head, eyebrow cocked as he watched bakugou, who remained still in the doorway, blanket clutched around his shoulders.

After a moment, no movement was made from Bakugou, who was still trying to wrap his head around this whole thing. God, he hated being this unprepared. But Kirishima only smiled, shaking his head as he hoisted himself up from the tangle of blankets he had somehow managed to sink into.

Leaning over from his bed frame, Kirishima gently took his hand, pretty much pulling him over to his bed and shoved him into it, sliding in next to him when he realized that Bakugou wasn’t going to protest. Had he been told about this yesterday, Bakugou would have laughed in the person's face. But nope, here he was, cradled in Kirishima's arms, in Kirishima's bed, at night time. God, if Mina or one of the others happened to walk in on this, the question would be torturous to endure.

“Hey, calm down.” Kirishima whispered, his hands coming to feel for Bakugou's own. Rough hands traced over the palms of his own, rubbing comforting little circles into the thick skin. Such an action shouldn’t be so endearing, but when it’s coming from Kirishima, it’s so sincere that it just has to be. Heaving out a sigh, Bakugou settles into the embrace, face pretty much buried into Kirishima’s chest as he tries his best to relax. As they lay in silence, Bakugou doesn’t close his eyes.

He thinks, thinks of how everything had gone so wrong - so horribly all because of him. He thought about how he had failed All Might, how his actions could have very well lead to the death of the symbol of peace- his hero, all because of his stupid pride. But mostly, he thought about Kirishima.

Red splattered across the concrete as his skin melted away, lips parted in a silent scream as the pain became too much to bear. The blankness within his eyes as Shigaraki pulled away, a crude smirk on his chapped lips. Kirishima could have died because of him. Fuck.

”Oi, shitty hair.”

The words were whispered, but as Bakugou clutched himself to Kirishima's chest, they felt big.

”Yeah?” Resting his chin on Bakugou’s head, Kirishima answered, an eye cracked open as he watched Bakugou shift from under the blankets.

”Promise me that you'll be okay.”

The words were soft, something with a little hesitancy, something that was so not Bakugou- were he knew that the words were sincere. Kirishima opened his mouth to ask where all this was coming from, but he stopped with he felt Bakugou squeeze his hand, as if he was making sure that Kirishima was still there. He seemed so helpless- so lost, that Kirishima couldn't help but comply. He sighs, nestling his face into the top of Bakugou’s head.

“I can’t promise that I’ll be careful. But I promise to be here for you, bro.” Bakugou didn't respond to that, but Kirishima felt the way that he relaxed into his hold, lessening the hold on his hand nothing more than a light, warm pressure. Kirishima smiled and closed his eyes, letting himself drift off to sleep.

The next morning was.. interesting, say to the least, but Bakugou could definitely get used to waking up in Kirishima's arms.

Chapter Text

    Kirishima hadn’t come home last night. Honestly, Bakugou didn't know when he started calling UA home, but, nothing less, it was one. They had all been through so much shit, that this place- this safe haven, was something that they had always cherished. The fact that they had to be moved to such a place in the first place was not a good sign either. Villains were still out there, possibly sneaking through the streets at this given moment. That's why Bakugou would be lying if he said he wasn't worried. So when he saw Uraraka there, eyes wide and telling, he knew something was wrong.

~

The Internship kids were back. They had been missing for two days, two fucking days with no contact. It was horrible. Especially when they saw them on the news, battered, bloody, and without Kirishima. As the words ’multiple injured, one dead,’ echoed through their minds, and the fact that there was no sign of Kirishima, people were beginning to put he two together, Bakugou would be lying if he said he wasn’t fearing the worst.

~

“I’m getting worried.” Sprawled across Kaminari’s lap on the floor of Bakugou's room, Mina spoke, placing her magazine down onto the carpeted floor of Bakugou’s room. Once again, they hadn’t been invited there, but with Kirishima not in the school, there was nowhere else to turn.

Everyone knows that Kaminari’s room is a complete and utter mess, knick-knacks and clashing colors enough to make Midoriya, the biggest mess of them all, cringe.

There was Sero’s room, which was pretty decent, but his dislike of clutter made it rather difficult for the 4 of them to settle there without fucking something up.

Bakugou was banned from Mina’s room due to him accidentally exploding one of her pillows. It wasn’t really an accident, which everyone knew, but Aizawa would legit kick his ass if he admitted to even more property damage.

And, with Kirishima currently MIA, the only option was Bakugou’s room. So yeah, they decided that, excluding that of Bakugou himself, Bakugou’s room was the safest and best place to hang out.

Idiots.

“The internship students? Yeah, they’ve been gone for quite a while.” Sero sighed, putting down his phone. He and Kaminari had been scouring the news for any other signs of their friend's accomplishments, but there had been no sign- aside from Uraraka, Tsuyu, and Kirishima's accomplishments from the week prior(He couldn’t help but snicker when they found nothing in Midoriya and his seemingly non-existent accomplishments).

Overall, it was strange. Everything was so quiet, but it seemed as though there was an empty ringing to the silence- something so wrong, but it didn't go away, even if you covered your ears.

“I don’t like it.”

From his bed, Bakugou threw his book down, letting it rest in his chest as he stared up against the blank ceiling. Was it weird that he was worrying so much about all this- so much about Kirishima? He didn't like it. He knew very well that Kirishima, Uraraka, Frog-face, and- though he hated to think about it- Deku could handle themselves. But, fuck, it had been two days, and without a word from either them or their homeroom teacher, can you really blame him for being a tiny bit worried?

He sighs, attracting the attention of the others in the room. He watches them nod at his reaction, and after hearing Kaminari’s whispered: “same”, he wonders why he likes these idiots; he can't believe that these idiots have grown on him. It's probably because they get it- what he's feeling, even if he had an odd way of showing it. But, even if he cared about them (but you didn't hear that from him), they were no Kirishima. He rolls over, his back to the others as he closes his eyes. You fucking idiot, you better get back okay.

~

He wasn’t one of the many that greeted the intern kids as they entered, them pretty much being bombarded with worried exclamations as soon as they set foot within the common area. All he was looking for was that obnoxious, red hair, that always seemed to stick out no matter where they went.

It wasn’t there. He watched in a daze as Satou shoved cake into Deku’s mouth, also scanning over the conditions of the other internship kids. They didn’t look too bad, but the fading red marks that littered their bodies showed that there was more that happened than the eye could see. And, as the words ‘multiple injured, 1 dead’ echoed throughout his mind, Bakugou tried to quell the worry that began to rise up into his throat.

It was Mina who seemed to break the silence about the one missing member.

”Hey,” She poked her head up, stumbling away from Tsuyu’s arms, head cocked as she looked about the room. “where’s Kirishima?”

The same thought seemed to be echoing throughout everyone’s minds as they turned to the interns. Uraraka and Tsuyu were looking towards Deku, who stood from and center in their little group Deku looked at his feet, hands clasped and fidgeting in front on him.

”He’s in the hospital. But don't worry! He’s fine!” The words were quiet, rushed. Bakugou narrowed his eyes at the suspicion of it all. How is he fine if he isn't here now?

The short, worried glance that Uraraka sent Deku’s way didn’t help the situation either. Looking away from Midoriya, Uraraka’s eyes met his in a silent conversation.

Red met brown in a challenge, but not one of violence, a challenge of asking her just what the fuck was going on, why the hell Kirishima wasn’t there, and ‘is he fucking okay?’ She nods, and gestures towards all the people in the room, eyes breaking contact from his as she shook her head. Can't be said in front of everyone? Another worrying thing. But Bakugou gets it, for everyone would go absolutely berserk had one of their friends has been.. He didn’t even want to think about it.

After turning away from her in the moment, Hagakure decided to pretty much tackle Uraraka, muttering things about how glad she was that she was alright. Though Uraraka may not be able to speak to him now, the message is clear, and Bakugou finds himself wandering away from the group, no longer bothering with their presence.

It might sound selfish, but after seeing the others safe in the living room, it was Kirishima that he was worried about.

~

Getting Uraraka away from all the others took a long time and quite a bit of shouting. But, it was eventually done after everyone stumbled back to their rooms, no doubt either going to study or sleep. It had been quite the day after all. Only the two remained downstairs.

“Where is he?”

She sighed, but her eyes remained locked on his, Brown meeting red in a silent tussle. That's the thing he respected about her; never backing down from a challenge, even if it did seem impossible.

”You know there's a reason why I couldn't say it in front of everyone, right?” She started, hands tugging at the sides of her shirt in her discomfort. Bakugou narrowed his eyes, finding it suspicious, but he nodded.

Taking a deep breath, she continued, the words flowing out of her mouth, each word dripping by as if about to be quickly washed away. ”You can't swarm him- or anyone in there, since the mission was hard and all-“ The words ‘3 injured, 1 dead,’ flashed in his mind yet again, and, suddenly, Bakugou feels cold- as if a lonely, frozen winter had come to pass across his heart- not changing even with the coming of spring. He gritted his teeth, forcing the next three words out of his mouth.

“Is he dead?” A sharp intake of breath was his only response, and it didn’t take a genius to see that Uraraka was clearly uncomfortable, a light shake in her shoulders as she came up with a response.

“Don’t say that.”

The words were quiet, whispered as her fists came to a close at her sides. Bakugou narrowed his eyes once more, fists clenched as he stared her down.

“Why? You wouldn’t be making such a big deal out of it if it were anything else.” Fuck, he hated saying those words. They were logical, but please, don’t let it be true. With those words, the dam within Uraraka seemed to break.

”He was hurt bad, Bakugou, okay?!” She yelled, words echoing within the corridor walls. Hands thrown up in the air, she continues, ”So maybe if you stopped being such a goddamn jerk for once in your life, and if you paid any attention to any of us, you'd realize how big of a deal this was!”

Somewhat surprised by her outburst, Bakugou took a step back. It wasn't like he was an idiot; he knew how hard it must have been for them. But shit, you can't blame him for being fucking worried over his friend.

”Of course I fucking know how big of a deal this is!” He retorted, fists clenched. ”We all saw that shit on tv! Do you know how fucking scared we all were when we saw that?” He took a step towards her, his taller form looming over her, but he wasn't trying to be intimidating, he was trying to get his point across, anger and worry threatening to spill over the dams that he had built inside himself.

”You all looked dead, Uraraka.”

Uraraka blinked, mouth open to retort, but then she felt for the bandage on her wrist, flinching slightly as she felt the rough material. It was as if she didn't want to remember it was there- and why it was there.

She sighed, burying her head in her hands. ”Shit, I'm sorry,” she looked up through the cracks of her fingers, eyes wide and watery as she speaks, ”it's just been a lot to take in, you know? One time someone’s there, and another..”

“Who was it?” He cut in, voice softer this time. Though she really did have a round face, all it did in this moment was emphasize how sad she was. Her brown hair was messy from her sharp movements, her eyes wide and watery- with a sadness that one who hasn’t been in those situations couldn’t ever understand.

Her shoulders shook, as if she couldn’t quite shake away the memories of what had once past. It was so unlike her. She looked broken. “..Sir Knighteye.” The name was new, but it wasn't unfamiliar.

In passing, he remembered Deku talking about him, and how he had been All Might’s secret sidekick. (It wouldn't stay a secret if Deku didn't learn to keep his mouth shut) “It was my fault.” It was too quiet, her words registering in his mind. This was clearly not a one person injured scenario, nor was it easy to rid yourself of the memories of something so gruesome.

Though nobody but those who were at the raid knew how it went, it was clearly something that had been traumatizing. Though scars might not always be extent, it doesn't mean they aren't there.

Fuck, he swallowed, finding himself drawn to those wide eyes of hers once again, he really should have paid attention to the other interns. Leaning his back against the wall, he tilts his head, signaling for her to go on. She only sighs, touching a palm to her forehead, as she shakes her head.

“I was the one carrying him, Bakugou,” she breaks their silence, voice cracking as she tries to hold herself together, ”I could have done more.” Shit, this felt too familiar. Wallowing in self pity is Kirishima’s thing, but with Bakugou there for him, it never gets too far. He can't just leave Uraraka alone with all this.”He might be dead because of me. I just-”

”Oi, Round Face.” He interrupts, pushing himself off the wall to stride a little closer to her. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he looked into her teary(and surprised) eyes, and Bakugou can’t help but feel a stab of pity in his gut.

He hates being pitied, but have gets what all of this is like. ”Don’t say shit like that. You're shaping out to be a damn good hero, and for fucks sake, don't bother dwelling on the ‘what ifs.’” Hand still on her shoulder, he continues, “Sure, it might fucking suck that someone died, and I can’t say if his death is justifiable or not, but, you shouldn’t blame yourself for the things that you can’t change.”

She didn't respond, her eyes still wide with shock as she stares at him. Bakugou being a decent person? It's more likely than you think.

It was silent for a few moments, and just as Bakugou was beginning to think that he had somehow broken her, a small, muffled, sound broke their silence. He turned back to Uraraka, eyebrow cocked as he watched her cover her face with her hand, She was giggling- a wet, rough giggle, but it was a giggle no less. Man, he hated that word- giggle. But at least her reaction showed he didn’t quite fuck up his wording this time.

”Oh man, Kirishima really is rubbing off on you, huh?” she giggles, hand coming to wipe at her eyes as a faint smile finds its way to her lips. ”The Bakugou I know would never say that.”

”Fuck you,” he takes his hands off her shoulders, placing them back in his pockets as she composes herself. She giggles once more, taking a deep breath before continuing: ”Okay, now that we’re done with that,” She smiles, holding out a hand, ”Back to Kirishima, right?” He raises an eyebrow at the offered hand, somewhat tempted to slap it away, before noticing the white piece of paper folded within her hand (Though her pinky was raised, as per usual. She didn't want it floating away, after all). He narrowed his eyes, grabbing it from her hand before she could try anything. (He’s been accidentally set afloat by her once before while in training. It wasn’t fun.)

”It's the address to the hospital. It's not too far from here, but you should hurry, since visiting is almost over.” Watching him shove the paper in his pocket with a sigh, she smiles slightly . ”You really care about him, huh?”

Bakugou only grunts, pulling out his phone to check the time. ‘8:23’ He had about 30 minutes. He had to be quick.

“I’m assuming that’s Bakugou speak for ‘yes’,” Uraraka only shakes her head, a tiny smile on her face. “I see why. He did really well out there; he saved lives.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Bakugou still invested in the contents of his phone's lock-screen (a picture of the bakusquad), but she knew damn well that he was listening to every word she said.

“He’s a great hero.”

“Damn right.”

Uraraka turns back to Bakugou, not believing her eyes when she sees the soft, small smile that had found it’s way to Bakugou’s face. It was there and then, she decided, that she figured out just what was going on. (But, she didn't comment on it. Too much had happened in this one night, and it would be too much to bring it up now.)

”Honestly, Bakugou, a smile looks good on you.” It was a genuine compliment, but the second the words escaped her lips, his face tightened into one of his common scowl once again, clearly in displeasure about the comment. Oh well, it was nice while it lasted.

She only shakes her head, taking a second to glance at the clock on her flip phone. 8:27. There wasn't a lot of time. ”You should go. I'm sorry for keeping you here.” Bakugou pauses, back half turned to her as he prepares to leave. He looks like he’s about to say something, mouth opened and brow furrowed, and, at first, she doesn't catch the words.

”Thank you.”

She doesn't ask him what he's thanking her for, but by the smile he gave her at the mention of kirishima, she knows.

Turning away from Uraraka, Bakugou headed toward the door, hands buried deep in his pockets as he grasped the piece of paper that she gave him. She watches him go, arms crossed over her chest as she leans her back against the wall. Just as he reaches the doorknob, the said item in his hand, she speaks.

“Hey, Bakugou?” He turned around, red eyes narrowed as he looked over his shoulder. He doesn’t answer, but she knows he’s listening. “He really cares about you. Take care of him, okay?” He didn’t say anything, his eyes narrowed as he analyzes her. After a moment, he shakes his head, head slowly turning back to entrance of the building.

”You know damn well that I will.”

And with that, Bakugou opened the door.

~

He really shouldn’t be here right now; he should probably be in class, or back at the dorms, at least studying for their upcoming math test. It was all pathetic really. No- not Kirishima. Kirishima was anything but pathetic.

It was him that was pathetic; He had the nerve to race here, with stupid flowers no less, and with no goddamn plan. But no, he was here, standing in the doorway of the hospital room that Kirishima was occupied in, eyes glued on the sight in front of him.

The room was white, blindingly so- the color washed out everything else within the room, leaving no speck of darkness anywhere. Bakugou hated it; hated the colour, hated the smell of antiseptic, hated the fact that all these people couldn’t be saved, the sound of the heart monitors, the beep, beep, beep making his own heart pound just by thinking about it; and how that one little sound is the only indicator that you were even alive.

He hated the fact that he hadn’t been there, and how Kirishima was now lying there in the hospital bed, bandages scattered across the majority of his body as he slept. Fuck, it was so much worse than he thought. Though there were a few bandages here and there, the little red marks in his bare skin showed that there had been even more damage done, and a person with a healing quirk had been in before Bakugou had seen the original damage. (He didn't think he would've been able to handle it, if he had).

He sighs, fumbling with the little bouquet of flowers in his hands. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, or why he’s even here- well, scratch that last bit. As much as he hates to admit it, he cares about Kirishima. Hey, those midnight nightmare meeting things surely meant something, right? Letting out a frustrated sigh, he took a step back, nearly colliding with a person behind him as he did so.

”Sir, you do know that you can enter, right?” A voice breaks him out of his thoughts, and he turns around to see a nurse standing behind him, a clipboard in her hand as she shrinks under his scrutinizing gaze.

“Yes, I fucking know that.” The nurse only rolls her eyes at the comment, straightening up as she stares him down. Her eyes looked tired, but experienced, as if she has felt with shit like this before, ”Well, visiting hours are almost over, and, if you want to get some time alone in,” she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose as she thinks about the times where ’time alone’, lead to much else, ”I suggest going in now.”

Bakugou only huffs, stomping his foot as he pivots around, not bothering to speak with the nurse again. The nerve, the audacity- he really didn't need this right now. With a huff, he steps into the room, warily heading to the lone bed in the center of it. It was at times like these where Nakugou was grateful for the privacy they offered recovering heroes, for he knew that Kirishima didn’t like people seeing him like this.

”Kiri, you fucking idiot.” Bakugou huffed out, running a hand through his hair as he took a step into the room, his prior outburst having sent the nurse away from him. Bakugou pulled up the plastic chair from next to the side shelf, where a few documents regarding Kirishima's condition lay. He resisted the urge to look at them, for he didn’t want to invade too much of his privacy. (Yes, though he can be an ass at times, he did have some decency)

He reaches out, taking Kirishima’s hand in his own, rubbing the back of it in circles with his thumb. Kirishima's hand, within his own, remained still. But his pulse, is something Bakugou finds reassuring, is strong and steady when he, feels for it, the beeping of the heart monitor not enough to reassure him of his friends fate. Dark eyelashes lie still against blotchy cheeks, and red hair fans out around his head onto the pillow beneath him. Shit, he looks wrecked.

Bakugou sighs, running a hand through his hair as he slouches in his seat, feeling the plastic uncomfortably digging into his back. He could only imagine what Kirishima feels like now. Shit- he should've been there, he shouldn't have fucking failed his hero license test, he should have been able to protect him- no, Kirishima didn't need protecting. He should've been by his side. But no, now Kirishima’s here, injured. And, though Bakugou knows that it isn't either of their faults, he fucking hates this feeling of hopelessness that has managed to find its way into his stomach, growing bigger and bigger each time he realizes how much of a failure he is.

(”If all you ever do is look down on people, you won’t be able to recognize your own weaknesses.”)

Letting out a loud sigh, he almost doesn't hear the whispered words from beside him.

”Bakugou?”

The voice was quiet, rough, as if not used for a long amount of time, and Bakugou found his eyes widening as Kirishima sat up, moving his hand-the one that wasn’t being held- and rubbing his eyes. Quickly but gently, he snatched his hand away from Kirishima’s, feeling heat flood into his cheeks as the other boy blinks at him questioningly, eyes hazy as his hand, the one Bakugou had been holding, began to push his blankets down.

”Why are you here?”

Shit, that's a good question. Honestly, Bakugou didn't know. Maybe it was to pay back all the times that Kirishima was there for him, maybe it was because Kirishima had some promise, maybe it was because Mina and the others would swarm him the second they enter the room.

Maybe he cared about the guy.

”Well, why wouldn't I be?” Bakugou retorts, waving the flowers in his hands around as he gestured toward the hospital room, ”You’re here, aren't you?”

Kirishima’s face fell at those words, and Bakugou knew that he had fucked up. Great work, Katsuki, you reminded a hospital patient that they were in the hospital. Props to you. You're fantastic.

Well, shit.

”You did good out there,” he changes the topic, resisting the urge to facepalm at his blatant attempt to change the topic. He had thought that the comment would make Kirishima smile (He was actually being genuine), but Kirishima only sighed.

”A lot of things happened out there, and I don't think that I'm really ready to face the truth of it,” he runs a hand through his hair, scrunching his nose when he finds that it's out of its usual style, ”but.. I'm glad that Fatgum and Suneater are okay,” he pauses, eyes widening, ”they are okay, right?” From the corner of his eye, Bakugou sees the heart monitors pulse begin to rise, and he knows that that can't be a good thing.

”Yes, they're okay,” he answers, hands fiddling with the hospital sheets, ”I heard that you saved Fatgum.” Bakugou might not have interacted much with the internship kids when they got back, but that doesn't mean that he didn't listen. Kirishima had saved the other prohero, which contributed to the overall success of the heroes during this mission. But at the mention of the event, Kirishima seemed to freeze- almost like a wilted flower amidst a blizzard. Bakugou nearly cursed out loud. He fucked up yet again. Great. He's amazing at this. You shouldn't be here. You're only fucking it up more.

”Fuck, I'm sorry-” He says, the same moment Kirishima mutters, ”Shit, can we just not talk about it?”

They sit in silence for a while after that, both of them sneaking glances out of the corners if their eyes. Neither dared to speak, only fidgeting when their hands whenever they were caught looking. In other words, it was hella awkward, and Bakugou didn't quite know what to say to make it better. Bakugou checked his phone, cursing slightly when he reads the numbers: ’8:51’

Nine minutes to go. He doesn't know why he's here exactly, but he does know that he's supposed to say something- or at least do something that would at least cheer up Kirishima. Shit, why was he so bad at his? He leans his head against the bed rails, taking in a deep breath. As Bakugou does this, Kirishima finds his eyes drawn to the small bunch of flowers within Bakugou's clenched fist.

“Those for me?” Kirishima said, a small, somewhat pleased look in his eyes as he looked at the flowers, reaching over and taking them when Bakugou opened his hands.

”I never expected you to be the flowers kind of guy.” He examined the flowers, a mixture of azaleas and sunflowers (both of which hold a message through flower speak that Bakugou could barely comprehend, but the wink that the florist sent him on his way out clearly said something).

“Shut up,” Bakugou huffed, trying to ignore his embarrassed blush. “you make it sound as if we’re dating or something,” Kirishima nearly chokes, tired eyes bugging out of his head as he says those words. ”What?”

”I mean-” Bakugou stumbles, nearly snatching the flower out of Kirishima's hands before he pulls his hand back, ”I had to show up with something.” It was a pathetic excuse, but it seemed to work on Kirishima, for that small smile of his found it way to his face once more.

”Thanks, Katsuki, I appreciate it.”

There it was, the smile that he had been missing this entire, awkward visit. For once, trying to ignore the sparks that had ignited the second his name escaped the others lips, Bakugou smiled back, finally finding the reason why he was there.

He really didn't think he could live without Kirishima’s smile.

~

A week after he was put into hospital, Kirishima was released. At times, Bakugou knew that he took healing quirks for granted, but goddamn- he was grateful, grateful that he didn’t have to see Kirishima so wrecked anymore.

So, with his arm in a sling, Kirishima and Bakugou stood in front of the school building, preparing to go inside.

“You ready for this?” Bakugou said, quietly, taking his hand off Kirishima's arm as they stood in front of the entrance, where everyone was bound to be behind, listening, waiting, hoping.

“I don’t think I ever will be,” Kirishima sighed, holding his broken arm to his chest, “God, Mina is going to kill me for this.” Kirishima muttered, running a hand through his hair- it was down, something Bakugou still hadn’t quite gotten used to, but it wasn’t as if he was complaining.

Red locks framed a soft face, and Kirishima’s wide red eyes seemed to capture his own. Yup, he was a goner. Bakugou rolled his eyes, but his lips quirked(ha) upward in a tiny smile, “Oh, definitely. Maybe Mina will take some form of pity,” he pauses, brow scrunched in thought for a moment, ”then again, I don't think she comprehends the concept of ’taking things lightly.’”

Kirishima didn't seem to notice the offhand remark about his childhood friend, only choosing to stare at Bakugou with wide eyes. Uncomfortable with the attention, Bakugou shifts to the side, shoe kicking a nearby piece of stone while he moves.

”What the fuck are you looking at?” He's still looking down at the stone as it rolls down the path in front of him, face tinted with a hint of pink as he feels Kirishima’s eyes on him.

“You said her name,” the redhead states, a look of pride on his eyes as he looks up at Bakugou. Well, yeah, why wouldn’t he? Though the name ’Raccoon eyes’ had grown onto the both of them, the names were interchangeable and didn't really matter.

“I say your name all the time,” Bakugou pointed out, pursing his lips as he crossed his arms across his chest. He knows very well what Kirishima is getting at- that he's actually starting to like the other Bakusquad members (which is true, but as stated numerous times before, he would never admit it). Kirishima pauses, pursing his lips in thought, but then he shook his head, getting back on topic.

”So, they're all in there, huh? Mina, Sero, Kaminari.. It's a lot to face at once.” Kirishima sighs, running a hand through his hair(something he's been doing a lot more lately, Bakugou notes), ”I don’t think I’m ready for that. We’re going to be swarmed as soon as I get in there, right?” Bakugou snorted, “Oh yeah, when the others came in, it was like a fucking massacre.”

Kirishima sighed, a tired look in his eyes as he fidgeted with a strand of hair in his fingers- something similar to what Jirou did, but with her jacks. Again, Bakugou wasn’t complaining- it was cute. But, seeing that sad look on Kirishima's face, especially after going through all that, Bakugou wanted to kick the ass of whoever decided to hurt him again.

“But, really,” Bakugou was surprised at how soft he was being, but- based on the dejected look on Kirishima's face, he thought it was worth the- the emotion (god, Bakugou hated that). “If it’s too much, tell me and i’ll kick their asses,” slapping a clenched fist into an open hand for emphasis, Bakugou found himself smiling when he got a laugh out of Kirishima , something he had always liked to hear- especially if he was the one who caused it. Taking a moment to let Kirishima calm down and gather his nerves, Bakugou turned back to the door, hand resting on the doorknob as he prepared to enter the dorms.

“Bakugou,” pausing his hand at the doorknob, Bakugou turned back, question all over his face as he stared. There it was that smile that was so bright- so Kirishima, that Bakugou was surprised to say that he had found himself missing it. Huh, maybe emotion really was worth it. “Just, when they swarm, don’t kill anyone, okay?” Kirishima half teased, poking Bakugou in the shoulder with a hardened finger. Bakugou rolled his eyes, a smirk on his face as he turned back to the door.

“No promises.”

~

It wasn’t until later, yet again in Bakugou’s room, when anyone decided to speak about anything. Kirishima had retired to his own room soon after everyone began to swarm around him. They didn't blame him for it at all, as they all knew about everything that happened- after Deku told them, of course.

“He took that powerful of a hit? Goddamn,” Sero whistled, thoroughly impressed with his friend. However, he was worried, as were they all. With each hit you take, the more and more beat down you get. Outward cuts only show a little bit of the scarring within, after all.

”I hope he's okay after all of.. This.” Sero sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair- which was in one of the ponytails the Mina liked to force him into. It was a good look for him, but apparently Sero had a thing for his longer hair. From the side, Bakugou huffed, turning on his bed, looking up the ceiling instead of the wall.

”You good, Bakubro?” Kaminari chimes in, looking up from his 3ds. He was somewhat quieter than he usually is, clearly worried for his bro, Kirishima.

“You guys keep talking about him as if he can’t stand for himself,” rolling onto his side, he faces them, red eyes narrowed as he stared down the 3 others that were scattered across his floor. “He’s a fighter- he’s strong. There’s no way in hell that he’ll let this stupid shit stop him.”

From the side, Mina and Sero glance at each other, a knowing look in both their eyes as Bakugou finished.

”Well, I guess Mr.High School Debut Man has finally made his mark, if Bakugou has that sort of a reaction.” Mina said, a teasing glint in her eyes. Laughing and using Kaminari as a meat shield when Bakugou chucks a pillow at her, she nearly misses Sero’s question.

“Mr.High School Debut Man? What?” Turning around, she meets Sero’s eyes once again, a reminiscent look in her eyes as she speaks once again, “Oh yeah! You guys don’t know this story.” Bakugou turns his head slightly, lowkey eager to listen to this story, but he didn’t move, for he didn’t want to make his curiosity too evident.

”Don't tell him I told you all this, okay? He’ll get mad if he found out that I exposed him.” She plays with a strand of her hair, a small smile pulling at her lips as she begins, ”So, as you all probably know, we went to junior high together,” she reminisces, waving her hands around to annunciate her point, “we weren’t in the same class, so we barely knew each other- which was why I was surprised me when he told me that he looked up to me.” She sighs, shaking her head. “He was a lot.. quieter back then. He had good intentions, but he wasn’t confident enough to really let them all show, you know?” An unspoken message is clear within her words; Kirishima has always had some confidence issues, and though he’s gotten much better, he still can't seem to shake off his doubt. Bakugou sighs, why can't Kirishima just realize how much he's worth- how important he is?

“Until this year, when he completely changed. This dude got himself out there, got second in the entrance exam, dyed his hair, and came to this school with the stupidest hairstyle that you could imagine,” she pokes fun at his hair, but there's a fondness to her voice that everyone can understand. Sero and Kaminari quirk their eyebrows up at the ‘dyed hair’ comment, as if they’re surprised that it was dyed. Seriously, Bakugou thinks, there was never any way that that vibrant of a color could ever be natural. But, even if his hair was shitty, the color definitely suited Kirishima.

“Now he’s one of the biggest dorks I know, but he’s our dork.”  With a sad smile on her face, she continues, but Bakugou can't help but catch the glint in her raccoon-like eyes as she glances toward him. “But I’m proud of him, you know? He’s come so far since back then. He might tend to put everything on himself, but he doesn’t need to do that anymore; has us,”

Though she was speaking to everyone, her eyes were on Bakugou, yellow meeting red in a silent conversation.

He has you

“I just hope he doesn’t get himself hurt.”

Take care of him for me

Bakugou nodded, nothing more than a slight tilt of his head as he props his head up on his arms, still strewn across his bed. To the others, the action was pretty much non existent- a slight stretch, perhaps. But, to the ones who knew (how did she know was the real question here), it was an answer- a confirmation.

I will

Chapter Text

With his eyes snapping open, it was a scream that woke Bakugou up. He jumped up, palms open in case he had to attack. He whipped his head around, scanning his room for any possible threats.

There was no one. Another anguished scream sounded from outside the door, and Bakugou could feel his heart pounding.

Kirishima.

Before he knew it, he was running, leaving his own door ajar in his haste to get to the other boy. Bakugou knew too well of the penalties that came with leaving his room after curfew(including Aizawa forcing him to clean up after his cats. Which, by Bakugou's experience, was absolutely horrible), but at that moment, he gave no shits. He couldn't just leave Kirishima alone- especially if he could be in danger.

In a matter of seconds, he reached Kirishima's door, reaching for the handle before he decided to just go through with it. Pretty much ripping the door from its hinges, Bakugou stormed into the room, nostrils flared, ready to fight. Besides for Kirishima, the room was empty, moonlight streaming in and shedding light on all of Kirishima's posters.

However, Kirishima was thrashing in his bed, fists flying as he seemed to fight whoever was in his dream. He was in his hardened state, the rough edges of his skin being highlighted by the light from the window. Fuck, this wasn’t good. Kirishima could hardly last 50 seconds in his unbreakable form, let alone really breathe. He had to do something. Quick.

”Kirishima!” he screamed, shaking the other boys shoulders as he struggled. God, this was too familiar; red eyes looking into his own as he struggled to free himself from his own mind, his hands on another chest as he struggled to even breathe; the daze ofit all, and how he seemed to be walking through fog as he struggled to regain his bearings. Shit, no one deserved to go through nightmares.

Kirishima’s eyes opened, daze and unfocused as he slowly took in his surroundings. He was breathing erratically, chest heaving up and down, but by the way he was gasping seemed to mean that he wasn’t getting enough air. Placing Kirishima’s hand to his chest, something so similar to what Kirishima had done to him, Bakugou breathed, feeling the pounding of his own heart coursing through his body.

”Breathe with me.” Fingers wrapping around Bakugou’s own, Kirishima inhaled, letting in a shaky breath as he followed Bakugou. Murmuring a few encouraging words, Bakugou continued to kneel next to Kirishima, the other boys hands intertwined with his own as he began to calm down.

Once Kirishima gained enough of his bearings and realized who it was that was holding him, he seemed to collapse on himself, reaching out and pulling bakugou closer, resting his head against the other boy's chest as he let in another shaky inhale. Bakugou let him, running a hand through the other boys hair as they sat there.

It was quiet.

”You know I want to protect people, right?”

The words were sudden, whispered, as kirishima pulled away, looking up at bakugou with fists clenched at his side as he waited for an answer. Bakugou was surprised by the distress on his face, as if He was doubting that something so obvious- such as Kirishima's need to protect people- wasn’t legitimate As if he was trying to convince himself that it was. The truth.

Bakugou nodded, brow furrowed as he watched Kirishima expression perk slightly, only to fall once more. It was at that moment that Bakugou knew that he was talking about Kamino. Fuck, this wasn't good. Kirishima had done some amazing things back there, but he didn't seem to believe it. In different ways, they had both been through hell and back. And god, they would both be lying if they said that the pain of it didn't screw them over at times.

“I know I can be stubborn, but goddamn it, I didn’t want to die.” Kirishima says, clenching his fists. suddenly there’s a heat in his eyes and he feels like he’s going to cry. He’s letting them all down, he knows he is. No, he wiped a hand across his eyes, he couldn’t let himself be seen crying; not when he had promised himself that he would be stronger, that he wouldn’t break. Feeling the comforting hand of Bakugou's on his shoulders, he continued:

“Either way, I broke when they needed me the most; I was on the sidelines, while Fatgum protected me.” He clenched his fists, not quite meeting bakugou eyes. “I was useless.” Brow furrowed, Bakugou looked down at Kirishima, whose face was buried into the crook of his arm. Anger began to course through his veins, and the familiar itch in the palm of his hands started up once more. But no, he couldn't explode here, even though he wanted to kill whoever the hell made Kirishima feel like this.

Kirishima being useless was the biggest fucking lie that he had ever heard. He was the one who managed to debut as a hero only weeks after he got his provisional license. He was the one who always asked if everyone was okay- and made sure of it whenever there were any doubts. He was the one who always offered a shoulder to cry on. He was the one who hosted all those stupid movie nights. He was the one who never stopped smiling, even if things looked dire. He was the glue that held them all together; the final piece of the puzzle that everyone had been slowly piecing together bit by bit. 1-A wouldn't be the same without Kirishima.

”Don't say that.” Bakugou spoke, venom lacing his words due to his anger. He didn't mean to intimidate Kirishima with those words, but the sharp movement at his side meant that he had done just that.

”What?” Looking up from the crook of his arm, Kirishima looked surprised, almost scared at the anger in his words. The word ’villain’ flashed once again in Bakugou’s mind, and he had to clench his fists just to make sure that he didn't do anything that word hurt either of them.

”I said: don't you fucking say that.” the words were quiet, but they were powerful, red eyes piercing into Kirishima's with a look of anger- of disbelief. And, all over again, Kirishima felt like he was going to break. ”Why the fuck are you always so hard on yourself?” Bakugou demanded, hands moving to annunciate his point. ”You're worth so much, why is it so hard for you to see that?”

Kirishima flinched at his words, but didn't reply, only biting his lip as he turned his head away from Bakugou, finding a sudden interest in his covers, eyes downcast as the thought, the other kneeling by the Kirishima’s side, arms out in front of them, almost pleading for some kind of answer. ”It's because i'm scared, Bakugou.” Kirishima turned around, eyes wide and watery as he stared Bakugou down, but the sincerity within them was so Kirishima- that Bakugou found himself trapped once again. ”I’m fucking scared; scared of seeing my friends dying in front of me while I stand there, helpless. Scared of seeing myself die just because I keep breaking. Scared of you being disappointed in me.”

The last words were whispered, and, if it weren't for the total silence in the rest of the dorms, Bakugou probably wouldn't have heard them. Bakugou sighed softly, running a hand through his hair as he stared down at Kirishima, who once again seemed to hunch in on himself, shoulders shaking, as if he was trying to keep himself together. But, what did all this mean? Fear was apart of a heroes everyday life, so you couldn't let it get the best of you. (But Bakugou knows how hard that is; how fear constructs you, binding you to your place. Fear doesn't let you move- doesn't let you breathe. Fear is a force to be reckoned with, and Bakugou knows that you can't just push past it)

It's hard to do it alone, but Bakugou would help him break past those barriers, even at the cost of his life. But fuck, What if Kirishima was giving up on becoming a hero?

”Well, shit- do you still want to be a hero?” Kirishima head snapped up at that, eyes red with tears as the silence was broken. From next to him, arms crossed, Bakugou stared at him. His brow was furrowed, but his eyes were piercing, staring “More than anything, but how can I become a hero if I couldn’t even save anyone?”

“Oh, for fucks sake.”

Bakugou threw his hands up, a deep sigh exiting from his lungs as he gripped Kirishima's shoulders once more, looking to his eyes again. “You seriously think that you can’t? Who was the one who debuted as a hero days after getting his license? Who was the one who saved Fatgum’s life?” He asked, words echoing throughout the room due to their heavy weight, weighing down on the both of them as they spoke. When Kirishima didn’t take any notions of moving, Bakugou sighed, removing one of his hands from Kirishima's shoto pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Eijirou, being a hero isn’t about how tough you are; it’s how you’re able to get back up no matter what, it’s how you’re able to keep smiling even after all of this garbage.” Bakugou placed his other hand on his shoulder, a serious expression on his face as he stared down at Kirishima, the fact that he was on his knees causing him to tower over Kirishima's hunched form. “So, Mr.High School Debut man, are you going to keep looking at the bad things, or are you going to smell the motherfucking roses?“

Kirishima chuckled at that, wiping a palm across his eyes as he found the courage to finally meet the others eyes. Bakugou was so close- close enough that Kirishima could count the long lashes that framed his eyes, close enough that he could see the worry within Bakugou's eyes, the way that Bakugou but his lips, anxious for an answer. Close enough that he close enough to kiss him. God, Kirishima wished he could. But no, he couldn’t. There was no way that any of that could ever be. Even with their study dates, training sessions, and these midnight encounters, Kirishima knew that it could never be. Seriously, Bakugou was probably the straightest guy that he had ever met. Yikes, why was the world against him?

Kirishima sighed, red eyes trailing up and meeting Bakugous. Red met red in a silent conversation, one pair open and wide, the other analyzing and worried. Without realizing, Kirishima let out a chuckle, finding the irony of the situation too much.

”Mr. Highschool Debut Man, huh? Mina really told you about that?” He curled in on himself, a bitter smile in his face as he remembered, remembered the feeling of doubt and sadness when he was unable to save those girls that one time, remembered that feeling of him not being able to become a hero due to his stupid, non flashy quirk.

Yet, here he was, in one of the top hero schools- no, the top hero school. He had made it. But no, he had failed at doing what a hero was supposed to do; save people. With one dead, and others severely injured just because he couldn't last another 5 fucking seconds, Kirishima knew it was all his fault.

Letting out a shaky breath, Kirishima leaned his head against Bakugou's shoulders. Closing his eyes as he let Bakugou’s presence surround him. The wood of his bed frame dug into his back, but he didn't care, only relishing in the feeling of having someone there. For he knew, that with Bakugou, moments like this are rare. Feeling Kirishima curl up into his shoulder, Bakugou couldn’t help but think that he had never seen Kirishina so.. out of it. With his incredibly shitty hair, big smile, and loud mouth, Kirishima had always seemed so big, like something so godly, that everyone just had a piece of it. Now, he was just.. Small.

“Shitty hair,” Bakugou said, quieter. Leaning over, careful not to shift Kirishima too much as he moved his shoulder, he brushed a hand against his face, cupping his cheek and gazing into his eyes as they sat in silence once more. He didn't say anything else for a long while, opting just to look, eyes revealing all. Worry, frustration, vain, and sincerity all mixed within those scarlet depths, swirling as if clouded- in a daze. Honestly, to Kirishima, the fact that Bakugou was doing this for him was almost enough to make him feel better, all due to the fact that Bakugou didn’t just do this for anybody. Right?

“You’re unbreakable.” Bakugou whispered, grazing a thumb over his cheek. The words he had said that day were nothing more than the truth. So now, seeing Kirishima like this- so fucking broken, It, pun not intended, broke his heart. He didn't say anything else for a long while, both of them content with baskingin each other’s presence. It wasn’t until Bakugou caught a glimpse of Kirishima’s alarm clock- a stupid thing with two buff arms poking out of the sides- and the numbers that shone on it’s screen. 3:45am. Shit, they were going to be wrecked in the morning.

Letting out a sigh, Bakugou hesitantly removed his hands from Kirishima's face. ”It's late.” Kirishima followed Bakugou’s gaze, eyes widening slightly as he read the numbers as well.

Gently nudging Kirishima off his shoulder, Bakugou stood up, sliding himself off of Kirishima's bed quietly. Running a hand through his hair, he turned back to Kirishima, who looked wrecked. His eyes were red and tired looking, his hands, though they had stopped being clenched into fists, were taut with tension. Bakugou didn't know what he was dreaming about, or the majority hat he had been through. But, the scene still hurt to see. What could have caused all this?

“You good now?” Baougou asked, very well knowing the answer as he leaned up against Kirishima's nightstand, arms crossed against his chest. Kirishima blinked, as if surprised by his sudden speech. At first he looked like he was going to say yes, mouth open to form the words. But then, he stopped, lips pursing in thought. Then he sighed, running a hand through his long hair.

“Honestly.. I don't think so.”

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” To any other, the words might have seemed rough- maybe even rude. But Kirishima knew that he was being sincere- after all, he had seen the look- the worry, written all over his normally taut face.

Kirishima let out a shaky breath, wringing his hands together as he forlornly glanced towards the bed underneath him. What he wanted was obvious, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Following Kirishima's gaze, Bakugou sighed, picking himself off of Kirishima’s nightstand.

“Move over,” Bakugou grunted, sliding in next to Kirishima before he had the chance to reply. Kirishima only moved over slightly, not hesitating to latch onto Bakugou the second the other boy was settled. Even from here, Bakugou could feel the erratic beating of Kirishima's heart, the deep breaths he was forcing himself to shake, the small shivers that wracked his body when he began to remember. But he didn’t say anything, only pulling Kirishima closer to him. It was pretty gay, and neither of them had said ‘no homo’ but, this was their moment.

“Hey, Bakubro?” The words were quiet, muffled from where Kirishima had his face pressed up against the side of his neck. Suppressing a shiver, Bakugou knew very well where those words would lead to. “If you’re going to do some stupid shit like thank me, you might as well can it.” Bakugou whispered, arms around Kirishima's sides as he pulled him closer. They were close, close enough that he could smell the fruity smell of Kirishima's shampoo, close enough that he could feel Kirishima's heart beating- wait, no, that was his own.

Kirishima chuckled, but didn’t deny the accusation. ”Why, won’t accept it?” But Bakugou shook his head, “Nah,” he rested his chin on top Kirishima's head, wrinkling his nose as the soft strands came to tickle his nose. “Don’t want it.”

As Kirishima let out another shaky breath, curling in closer to Bakugou's side, Bakugou felt something- the urge to protect. Christ, he was shit with feelings. But the fact they Kirishima made him feel, well, feelings was a spectacle within itself. Feeling Kirishima take his hand in his own, Bakugou didn't pull back, only placing his cheek on Kirishima's head, smoothing the other boy’s hair back.

He heard Kirishima let out a small sigh, burying his face into the crook of Bakugou’s neck as he began to calm down. As he felt Kirishima settle beside him, their hands intertwined, Bakugou couldn’t help but smile.

~

So yeah, maybe that was when Bakugou realized he had began to catch feelings for his best friend. I mean, maybe it had been sooner- from the moment where he had first walked into the classroom that day and was assaulted by the color red, or maybe it was from when he first teamed up with him during the sports festival. Either way, some emotional shit was going on in Katsuki’s mind, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to hate these newly named feelings.

~

Warm hands are wrapped around Kirishima’s back when he woke up, his eyes not yet opened as he leans into the warmth next to him. Letting out a contented sigh, he nuzzles into the warmth, relishing the feeling as the arms around him tightened, pulling him even closer.

The scent of smoke fills his nose, and Kirishima can't help but find some familiarity within the moment. And that's when it hits him.

Kirishima's eyes flew open, and, with that rapid pounding within his chest, he feels as though his heart is about to burst. Bakugou's eyes are closed, and it seems like he's still asleep (thank god). But, with his arms around Kirishima, it would be almost impossible to move without waking him.

It's warm under the covers, tangled up with each other like they are. Kirishima remembers why exactly he's here.

-

Blood splatters across the battlefield, and Kirishima finds himself frozen on the sidelines, legs collapsed out from underneath him, a puddle of blood pooling around his stomach, where a deep gash was located. Shit, this wasn’t good. Any of it. From in front of him, he struggled to hold his head up, his right eye sealed shut from the trickle of blood that flowed down from his forehead. Fatgum was grinning, but it wasn't a happy grin. his hoodie torn as he continues to take every hit that Rappa, the villain, continued to dish out, the said villains shoulders rotating around at nearly incomprehensible speed, each and every punch backed by another as they rammed down on Fatgum.

“Shit,” though the words were muttered, Kirishima could hear the desperation in Fatgum’s voice as the pro hero took a step forward, only to be pushed back by the barrier that Tengai put up. He found that whole tactic unmanly. They were using hit and run tactics, and, though he did know they were villains, who tended not to follow the whole ‘honor’ concept, he found it pathetic. Fatgum somehow manages to dish out a punch, the force of it resounding off of the barrier that Tengai put up. Defense and offense against a single, beat down person. It looked hopeless. But he still couldn’t fucking move.

Do something! There's gotta be something that you can do!

He feels the doubt swirling inside him, but he grits his teeth, red eyes narrowing as he fights the urge to just curl in on himself- to quit. He can't do that. he take a step forward, hand clutching at the torn skin on his limp arm, barely able to register the feeling of blood seeping between his clenched fingers. Fuck, this isn't good- but he had to keep moving. Fatgum’s going to die if he doesn't fucking move, and it'll be all his fault. Shit, he drags himself forward. It's quite pitiful really, but it’s all he do as he tries to continue moving- tries to continue fighting.

Is this really all he could do?

Kirishima dragged himself up step by step, each movement sending a burst of pain through the entirety of his body. From in front of him, Fatgum and the villains are still fighting, both of which looking worse for the wear after each hit. Fatgum is panting, his balloon like form shrinking each and every time he has to use his stored fat in order to survive a hit. Fuck, Kirishima thinks, watching as Fatgum is able to take more hits without breaking, am I really this useless when my armors down? Useless enough that I can't even fucking help? He grits his teeth and drags himself closer, legs throbbing from underneath him. Another hit will probably kill him, but goddamnit. He has to try.

”You're unbreakable.” those words- his words, echo through his mind, and, though he feels like he could give up then and there. He knows he can't.

Bakugou believes in him, and, if Bakugou does that, it means that he's worth something, right? Pushing himself to his feet, he feels adrenaline pump through his veins, each and every surge of pain accompanied with an energy that he hadn't felt before.

Fists clenched, he takes a step forward, body beginning to harden to deflect the numerous pieces of falling rubble that erupted out of the tunnels from their fight. He wonders how Midoriya's doing, as he and Eraserhead must be fighting in these same tunnels. But it's not about them right now; he has to fight. But, before he could reach him, Rappa attacks, his punch piercing through Fatgum’s body with a final blow.

”No!”

It was as if time had stopped. Fatgum stared down at the hole in his body, eyes wide as he realizes that, this time, his fat wasn't enough to save him. It was like something out of a movie, where a side character falls to their knees, only able to stare at the wound as life begins to sb out of them through the color red. And once again, in his fully hardened state, Kirishima can’t move, finding himself frozen, lungs aching, as he watched the scarlet pour of from the hole in fatgums chest. Kirishima had always liked the color red, and not because it was the colour of love either. It was the colour of passion, of strength, of warmth, of determination, of- well, a lot of things. But, (Kaminari really needed to stop bullying him about this) he's still not as big as a fanboy as Midoriya, also because of colour that his idol -Crimson Riot- had based his entire stature based off of. And honestly, along with the bright, red streak on his wrist, and his hella red hair, it’s safe for Kirishima to say that red is a manly color.. But now, he's being pulled in two, because doesn't want this- any of it. He wants to pull some of the broken glass from his chest for him to see, because if anyone prettiness the meaning of how the blood is scattered across the broken pieces, sending flickers of light into the unknown, it would be Bakugou.

But it's unavoidable, that getting involved would inevitably leave him bleeding in front of someone, and he's not prepared for that, not now, not ever. But now, he's forced to face that reality.

Once Fatgum collapses, the spell that had rendered him frozen- something that seems to be brought on by his own fear- seems to be broken.

“Fatgum!” he scrambles over to his mentor, the battle forgotten as he cradles the pro heroes still form. Fatgum didn't move, yet his eyes were open, black, blank, lifeless. He was dead.

”A respectable fighter. Too bad that he wasn't strong enough,” Rappa grinned, a his clenched fist coming to pound at his open hand, ”I would say the same about you, if you had actually fought,”

”You bastard!” Kirishima felt the blood rushing out from his own wounds, but he can't find it in himself to care. He clenched his fists, trying his best to ignore the fact that they were covered in red- in the blood of his mentor- his friend. Trying to ignore the fact that he had failed Fatgum, and now, with him unable to fight for himself or anybody, he was about to fail the world.

”How dare you!” he takes a step forward, ignoring the pain. No one fucks with his friends and gets away with it. He can't let himself be useless again. He has to do this. He has to.

But that doesn't shake off the fear that lay within his heart as Rappa pulls his fist back, clearly ready to strike. He summons his unbreakable form, but, with his injuries, its hard. And shit- just what has he gotten himself into- why did he think that he could do this- The fist draws closer to his face, and Kirishima closes his eyes, ready, bracing himself.

“Kirishima!”

But then, another was there, the light amidst the dark as he deflected the attack, sending various explosions towards the villains. Strong hands lock around his torso, and Kirishima is thrown backwards, skidding against the remnants of an explosion. Rappa’s hit never comes. Opening his eyes, Kirishima finds himself in a room of smoke, the battle paused as both parties seek to orientate themselves.

”Come on, let's get the fuck out of here,” a rough voice sounds from next to him, and Kirishima recognizes it almost immediately. Red eyes meet his own, and relief floods into Kirishima's mind.

Bakugou

He didn’t know how the blonde was here, or how he knew about this whole mission. But he was there, and for that Kirishima couldn’t be more grateful. When Kirishima didn’t move, Bakugou took charge. The other boy grabbed his hand, ready to pull him away, but he can't leave. Not yet. He can't leave Fatgum there, even if he is, well-

”We can't leave Fatgum here!” He says, honestly exhausted. How long had they been here? He didn’t know. But he was tired. He couldn't handle all of this. But he had to.

“We have to,” Bakugou says gravely, eyes darting to where the still, orange figure of Fatgum lay, a ring of scarlet surrounding him. He wanted to throw up at the sight, but he had to stay strong for Kirishima. But as Kirishima planted his feet into the ground, ready to protest even if he was exhausted, Bakugou decided to just say ‘fuck it.’

Scooping Kirishima up in his arms, Bakugou ran, fully prepared to get the hell out of there. Kirishima claws at Bakugou's arms, ignoring the stabs of pain when his sensitive and torn hands grip around the rough material of Bakugou’s gauntlets.

But he can't stop, not when his eyes are trained on the still figure behind them, growing smaller and smaller with each step taken away. Fuck, they really had to run- they lost.

Setting Kirishima down gently in the ground, Bakugou is staring at the hallway leading back to the room that held Rappa and Tengai, fists clenched in apprehension as he awaits the threat beyond. They didn’t have much time, and if he wanted Kirishima to be safe, he’d have act now.

”Bakugou,” the words were whispered as Kirishima looks down at his hands, feeling sick as they were covered in red- a constant reminder of just what he had seen- who he had just seen died- just who he had failed.

“He’s dead, Bakugou.” He can't seem to shake off the shock that had managed to settle itself into his bones. He’s sure that he looks like a mess, bloodstained, shocked. There was no way out if it. He hears Bakugou take a deep breath from beside him, yet he barely feels Bakugou coming to a crouch next to him, a warm and careful hand reaching out and tracing over a scar on his forearm before he began to speak: “Kirishima, listen to me.” Red eyes lock with his own, and, not for the first time, Kirishima finds himself being pulled into those scarlet depths.

“I know you’ve just seen a hell of a lot, but we can’t just give up here,” Kirishima wants to ask just why he’s here in the first place, but the pleading look in Bakugou's eyes that is just so not Bakugou makes him shut up. Bakugou helps Kirishima up, gauntlets lets abandoned as he helps him prop himself up next to one of the walls. Kirishima's legs feel like hell, torn, bloodied, weak. He can't move like this, and get knows it's his fault. Bakugou gets up once again, but keeps his hand interlocked with Kirishima's, running a gloved thumb across the back if Kirishima’s hand.

”If I'm not going to make it out of there, I’m going to make sure they don't either.” he turns toward the door again, jaw set as get avoids Kirishima's gaze, attaching his gauntlets to his arms once again. Kirishima knows what he's about to do, So, pulling on Bakugou's arm, he asks the one thing that his tired mind could form.

“Why?”

Why, why do this for him? Why even bother? Why did he care for him? Why associate himself with someone so useless? “You were my ‘unwavering horse,’ remember? It's my turn to pay you back.” Bakugou doesn’t look back, sprinting down the hallways once again, explosions crackling from his palms as he uses them to propel himself forward.

”Wait, Bakugou!”

It was too late; the doors had closed, and all Kirishima could do was scream.

-

He shakes his head, resisting the urge to curl in on himself once again. That dream had fucked him up, because it was so close to being real- so close to what actually happened. Had he not gotten in front of Fatgum in time, they wouldn’t have been able to tie the fight. It was all too close. He takes a deep breath, and He remembers the panic attack he has, as well as him activating his unbreakable form.. but, mostly, he remembers Bakugou- remembers the rough hand in his own, the hand on his chest, the arms around him.. It was a lot to take in.

Letting out a shaky breath, he turns to look at Bakugou once more. Light colored eyelashes lay over pale cheeks, and blonde hair is scattered across the pillow like some form of halo. Bakugou almost looks to good in the moment, but as Kirishima's stomach rumbles, and the cramp that had settled into his neck set in, Kirishima knew that he had to move.

Shit, this is awkward. He wants to move- he wants to speak, but shit- he can't bring himself to ruin the moment. It was calm, birdsong barely audible over the sound of their breathing. He fights the urge just to go back to sleep, but he knows that Aizawa will probably kick both of their asses if they don't show up to homeroom on time.

Eyes cracking open, he glances toward his nightstand, squinting s he struggles to read his alarm clock- his favourite one (the one with the arms in the sides!). The letters were blurry, but he could make out the small, green letters.

8:05

”Shit, Bakugou!” Bakugou only grunted, red eyes barely peeking open as he looks at Kirishima.

Kirishima sighs, not really surprised about his behavior. He reaches over, and peels one of Bakugou’s arms from his sides.

He shudders at the sudden lack of warmth, not quite realizing how warm bakugih was (not surprising, considering bakugou did have a quirk that included fire).

Sliding out of bed, Kirishima reaches out and shakes Bakugou’s shoulder, ignoring Bakugou’s clear displeasure with the concept of waking up. Finally, after 3 minutes and a considerable amount of shaking his arm, Bakugou seemed to have woken up.

”What?” Bakugou grunts out, sitting up and staring at Kirishima, eyes hazy with sleep. He looks remarkably childlike in that moment, his face not scrunched up with his anger for once- but soft, as he reaches up and rubs at his sleepy eyes. Kirishima sucks in a breath, shaking his head as to clear his thoughts before speaking once again.

”It's 8:08, we have to hurry up!” Bakugou's eyes widened, cursing under his breath as he throws the covers off the bed, sliding off the bed without a second thought. This routine seems practiced, and Kirishima wonders just how many times Bakugou has done this before.

Neither of them have time to dwell on just why they were both in his room, instead taking time to change and get their shit together. Bakugou rushes to Kirishima’s door, taking a moment to glance back at the redhead before heading back to his room, no doubt to gather his uniform. Bakugou pretty much raced to his room, cursing under his breath as he went.

He nearly tackled a surprised Shouji to the ground as he stepped outside Kirishima's room, the other boy already heading to class. Shit. Oh yeah, that would totally raise some suspicion, but Bakugou couldn't find it within himself to really care. Opening his own door and slamming it shut, Bakugou only had time to throw on his crumpled uniform before rushing out of his room again, backpack in tow as he slams his door shut.

Outside, Kirishima was waiting, fumbling with his tie as he struggled to set it onto his neck. They usually walked to class together, but not usually under such a tight time restraint. Bakugou huffed, checking the time on his phone: 8:17. Fuck. They didn’t have time for this.

The good thing about living in the dorms is that it didn't take long for the students to get to school. But still, They had to hurry. Leaving his room behind him, he strides over to Kirishima, ignoring his confused look.

“Move your hands.” He didn’t wait for him to comply, pretty much shoving Kirishima’s hands out of the way as he reached for the other boys tie. He tried to ignore the way the other boy seemed to be looking at him, his red eyes wide in some kind of surprise. He huffed, fumbling with the fabric for a moment, before setting it into the front of Kirishima’s shirt. ”You're welcome.” He pivots, striding towards the stairwell before kirishima could see his face. Kirishima rushed after him, a happy smile on his face.

“For someone who doesn’t wear a tie, you seem to be good at tying it,” Kirishima teases, adjusting the tightness of the tie around his neck as they sprint down the stairs. Bakugou only glares at him, not responding.

The truth is, he has always hated the feeling of things around his neck- especially after the slide incident. So, tie be damned. He hasn't worn his since- well, ever. It's probably in the bottom of his drawer somewhere.

They both head out into the dormitory kitchen, Kirishima forlornly glancing at the fridge as they speed past it, not able to spend any extra time to make breakfast. Especially when he's with Bakugou, who’s a hella good cook. Like goddamn, is it even legal to be good at so many things?

It isn’t until they both set foot on the path towards school when they slow their pace. Trees surround them from both sides, giving them that secluded feeling, even though it’s clear that there’s probably multiple cameras hidden up in the dense branches.

Kirishima can feel Bakugou's eyes on him as they both walk to class, a slight speed in their steps as they at least attempt to get there on time. Around them, the path is empty, and aside from the sound of their footsteps, it’s quiet.

”Kirishima,” Bakugou stops shortly in front of the doors, eyes narrowed and analyzing as he begins to speak. Kirishima panics, clearly knowing where this was going.

”So how's this weather, huh?” Kirishima buts in, inwardly wincing at the shitty topic. He really didn't want to do this right now, but, if he really did know Bakugou, then this dude would not stop until he got what he wanted. Bakugou narrows his eyes, clearly suspicious of the quick topic chance.

A short silence follows his words, weighing down on them like a silent burden, and it isn't until Bakugou opens his mouth to speak when Kirishima continues. ”I personally think it's rather nice, since it's sunny and all-”

”Ejirou.”

His name makes him shut up, mouth snapping shut before he could ramble about sunny weather. Bakugou’s staring at him again, a look in his eyes that Kirishima can't decipher. Shit, he likes to think he's good with people, but Bakugou has always been a mystery when it comes done to emotion. Maybe that was why Kirishima liked him so much; it was always a new adventure with Bakugou, be it with you being caught in an onslaught of multiple used of the word ’fuck’, or be it with you waking up in the others arms, his toned arms around you and offering you solace. Shit, Kirishima’s gay heart couldn't handle the last part.

Kirishima can only sigh, stopping in his path as he turns to look at Bakugou, red eyes tired. ”If this is about last night, Bakugou, i’d rather not talk about it.”

Bakugou opens his mouth, as if to object, but he stops, clearly sensing Kirishima's discomfort. Kirishima sighs in relief, pulling open the front door to the school. He’s about to step in, but a tug at his shirt pulls him back. ”You're not alone, you know.” the words are sudden- a surprise to Kirishima as he turns back around, foot stopping from where it was raised to step. It was incredibly similar to what Kirishima had said to him, but the words were appreciated.

”You have Raccoon eyes, Pikachu, soy sauce, and me.” Bakugou pauses, taking a deep breath, ”so, whatever is bothering you be damned, you're not alone.”

Bakugou looks up, not even bothering about the limited amount of time they have left anymore.

”I'm going to say this, and I'm only going to say this once,” he pauses, looking into Kirishima’s eyes, hand on the other boys shoulder as he speaks, Before Bakugou could speak, Mina’s words flash in Kirishima’s mind, the words she spoke to him when he got back from the internship.

-

”Kirishima,” Mina looks at him, eyes wide and knowing as she speaks, ”are you okay?”

Taking a deep breath, he replies, gently shaking Sero’s arm off his shoulders. He honestly didn't know, but, based off of everything, he knew he had to change. For the class, for himself, and Bakugou. So he answered with the truth.

”I have a long way to go.”

-

”Eijirou, you'll be okay.”

It wasn't a question, it was a statement. And, with Bakugou’s hand on his shoulder and that firm look in his eyes, kirishima believed it. Kirishima sucked in a breath, cheeks reddening slightly as he looked into Bakugou’s eyes and nodded. Placing his hand on top of Bakugou’s, he feels like they're making a promise.

You'll be okay

However, none of that stopped the questions when both of them ran into the classroom, 3 minutes late, out of breath with red tinting their cheeks. Needless to say, Aizawa totally kicked their asses.

Chapter Text

Even with the whole ‘nightmares incident’, there had been no other ’romantic’ moves on either persons part. There had been the fleeting looks, more ‘hang out’ sessions, yet nothing quite as intimate as what happened that night.

And then there was the group chat.

Oh god, that idea in itself was horrible. There were three chats that Bakugou was in. The Class 1-A, where chatting was limited to school stuff. It was quite boring, but at least it was there for any questions regarding schoolwork. Then there was the REAL class 1-A group chat, dubbed “Who stole Iidas panties.” Honestly, Bakugou didn’t even want to know, so he kept the chat muted (But that didn't stop Kaminari from filling him in. There was a panty raid lead by the girls, and they completely ransacked all the boys on the first floors rooms. Iida never found his underwear, even though all the other boys ended up retrieving their own at some point. Bakugou full well knows that Mina has them, as she hung them up on her wall, claiming it as a ‘trophy for their endeavors.’ He had seen them by accident, and god- knowing that Iida wore pink briefs was already too much information for him to withstand. Such a reaction lead to him exploding Mina’s pillow,which therefore lead to him being banned from her room. Shit’s wild.).

And finally, there was the Bakusquad chat, made up of his little group of idiots. It was literally meme hell, for Kaminari and Sero did not know when to fucking stop with their memes. Oh my god, it was a mess.

Bakusquad: new message.

Bakugou could only sigh as he felt the all too familiar buzzing in his pocket. Whipping out his phone, careful to be discreet, He looked at the text underneath the “Brother, may I have some oats?” Meme, which, by the way, had Kaminari in fucking TEARS.

Pikachu: Ayy yo Bakugou my buddy my man.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes at the text, clearly knowing where this was going. He glanced at Aizawa, who seemed to be sleeping against the back wall of the classroom. He didn’t trust him, for he knew Aizawa could jump up at any given moment, so he typed under the table.

F-bomb: The fuck do you want?

Bakugou didn’t even know why he was bothering with this idiot. Maybe because he had 15 minutes left, and he had already finished his test. But then again, the so called ‘Bakusquad’ (Bakugou loathed the name) groupchat has begun to grow on him.

Pikachu: what’s the answer to 15?

Feeling a prick of annoyance at the question, He looked up from his phone, scanning his test paper in front of him. Turns out 15 was some stupid shit on proofs. God, he hated those little fuckers, even if they were easy. He chuckled, responding:

F-bomb: Fuck you, that’s what.

Pikachu: come on man! I’m dying here. Help a brother out.

F-Bomb: No.

He could hear Kaminari whine from his aisle, and Bakugou could only grin, taking pleasure within his friends misfortune.

Shark boy: uh, actually- I was going to ask the same thing.

Bakugou snapped his head around, staring at the redhead a few rows away. Kirishima didn’t look back, but he saw the tense posture he had acquired, him staring down at the paper as if there was no other hope for both him and humanity. Bakugou only sighed, looking back to his paper and back to his phone.

F-bomb: Fine. You’re fucking lucky that I'm already finished.

Pikachu: Aw ye. Thanks bakubro.

F-bomb: Not you. You could at least try the question before being a baby about it.

He took a picture of his worksheet, sending it to Kirishima before leaning back. He saw Kirishima stiffen as his phone went off, him looking around before pulling it out. The soft smile on his lips made it worthwhile.

Shark boy: Thanks, man! You’re a lifesaver.

Bakugou began to type out a message, before pausing when another notification hit him.

New message from Pikachu.

Pikachu: Bro, you're hella whipped. But seriously, that isn't fair!

Bakugou narrowed his eyes at the screen, glaring at Kaminaris text.

F-bomb: Shut the fuck up.

Kaminari could only blink at the sheer speed in which Bakugou had typed that message. He grinned. He might not be the smartest person when it came to school stuff, but goddamn, Kaminari knew people. And this, could it be denial?

Pikachu: Hey, you didn’t deny it. But fr tho, if you hurt him, I’ll beat your ass. And no, before anyone asks AGAIN, getting my ass beat is not my kink. ;)

Bakugou raised an eyebrow about the ’again’ quip, especially with the following winky face. Maybe it was something from the 1-A group chat, or maybe the other Bakusquad members had their own little chat. Either way, he wanted no part in it.

F-bomb: He can handle himself, you know. And why the fuck would I hurt him? He is the one idiot out of all of you that I respect.

Bakugou clicked send before regretting the text, only watching in mild despair as Kaminaris typing icon came up once more.

Pikachu: that's a lie and you know it. ;))

Bakugou glanced up at Kaminari, only to meet the other boys eyes. Kaminari only winked, before turning back to the paper.

F-bomb: What the fuck does that mean?

Pikachu: ;)))))))

Bakugou could only huff in agitation, earning a worried look from Deku, who sat in front of him. A sharp glare met Midioriya’s questioning gaze. Midoriya only shrugged, going back to looking at his own paper. Had this been 2 years prior, Midoriya probably would have screamed. Bakugou could only shrug. Character development sure is wild. Looking up from his phone, he snuck a glance at Kirishima, who seemed to be the one who caused this whole chat.

He didn't expect for him to be looking back. It was a fleeting look, one of wonder and something else that Bakugou couldn’t quite put his tongue on (but goddamn, he wanted to ;) ) but it was enough to make his breath catch as those red eyes met his, his heart suddenly pounding inside his chest. He might not be as ‘whipped’ as Kaminari might have hinted at. But he certainly, though he hated admitting it, felt something for the redhead. From their midnight escapades to the time the league of villains showed up, to the other time the league of villains showed up, and to that other time the league of- yeah, you get it.

Kirishima was always there for him, his rock in times of hardship, his stability. Bakugou would be lying if he said he didn’t have a few gay feelings for him.. In that split second, Kirishima seemed to have noticed Bakugou’s attention on him, as he let out a small smile. Even with that smile, Bakugou narrowed his eyes, there was a hunch in the other boys posture. Was he nervous? It was at that moment Kirishima looked away, his red eyes scanning the ceiling, as if he had had a sudden interest in the bland, white tiles. He watched a little longer only stopping when, From the corner of his eye, he could see Kaminari smiling at their interaction.

Bakugou shook his head, staring back down at his phone. He didn't have time for this.

F-Bomb: If I give you the answer to the question, will you shut up about this?

Pikachu: Perhaps ;)

F-Bomb: Oh for fucks sake.

F-bomb has sent an image to Pikachu

Pikachu: Love you bro. No homo tho.

F-bomb: No promises about the second part.

From a row away from him, Kaminari fucking wheezed, earning a worried yet annoyed glance from Jirou, who sits next to him. Bakugou refused to meet his eyes, shoving his phone in his pocket. Kaminari only snickered, paying more attention to his phone than his test. It was a miracle that Aizawa hasn't caught them yet, but honestly, no one knows how much sleep he gets outside of class, so they let him be. It gives them more time for other acts of absolute shitfuckery with their classmates, anyway.

Pikachu to Does Bakugou is gay

Pikachu: yo my mans Bakugou does a big gay

James Bondage: Why does that make sense but not at the same time?

Acid: Big mood

Pikachu: Anyway, Bakubro legit said he was gay.

James bondage: oh, worm?

Acid: ho my god

Pikachu: ho my god

James bondage: Ho my god

Acid: leave me alone. 

Pikachu: H o m y g o d

Acid: Bro, this is almost as bad as the time Midoriya accidentally called Todoroki “hodoroki”

James Bondage: I still don’t get how that was autocorrect smh

Acid: Damn, I need me a man like hodoroki in my life

James bondage: Mina, no.

Acid: Mina yes.

Sharkboy: hi I am here

Pikachu: ANYWAY

Pikachu has sent an image to Bakusquad

James bondage: bro, that doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s gay, dude.

Sharkboy: wait what

Acid: Kiri, sweety, you’ve missed so much.

James bondage: Yeah, we’re doing this for you, man.

Sharkboy: guys, really. I do like him and all that, but there’s no way in hell that he’ll be into me, or even guys!

Acid: rt if you disagree

Pikachu: rt

Acid: rt

James bondage: rt

Pikachu: Give me $20 and I’ll debunk your theory.

James bondage: I’ll give you $20 and buy you dinner if you come back alive.

Pikachu: Deal.

Acid: ho my god, he bouta die.

Sharkboy: ho my god

James bondage: the saga continues.

-

Pikachu to F-bomb

Pikachu: bro, I’m straight(ha) up going to ask you.

F-bomb: If it has anything to do with my arms again, I’m going to fucking scream.

Kaminari chuckled quietly, not doubting that in the slightest.

Pikachu: bro, I don't doubt that. But it's not about that. It's a question regarding.,., select gay feelings toward any of the people in our class.

Kaminari saw the typing icon pop up and down, quick at first, as if bakugiu was using all caps (he wouldn't surprised), and then slowly, as if Bakugou was deleting his messages, or writing a fucking essay.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes at the screen in front of him, unsure how to respond. He could easily ignore it, leaving Kaminari to his fantasies until another time, but that other time would be painful to endure. Oh honey, Bakugou has heard enough of Kaminari’s ’TED Talks’.

He settled for answering it now, as Kaminari couldn't do shit with Aizawa in the classroom. Still hesitant, which is something he hated feeling, he typed a message, clicking send before he could think. He was a risky texter, but he wasn’t like Mina, who would probably cry if she sent a ‘risky’ double text and was left on read.

Kaminari jolted at the slight ping that went off from his phone, cursing quietly under his breath. Jirou glanced at him, curious as she pointed her jacks at his phone. He only shrugged, glancing over to Bakugou, hoping she got the hint. She raised as eyebrow, but didn’t comment on it, going back to checking over her test.

After that moment, it seems a message had come through, the short length of it a bit surprising, considering how much time it took.

F-bomb: Why the fuck should I tell you?

Pikachu: I’m serious, man. I’m doing this for.. a friend. Really, it’s a yes or no question???

F-bomb: Fuck off

Pikachu: Bro, it means a lot to me and Kiri. I don’t mean to pressure you, but it’s so obvious, with the way you look at him and the way you treat him in comparison to us. It’s p obvious. (plus the coming in late together is kind of telling ;))) )

Kaminari heard a growl from a few rows over, and, honestly, he didn't know whether or not to take that as a good or bad thing.

F-bomb: Who is to say that I’m even into Kirishima? He has that stupid hair, who would want that?

Pikachu: bro, that’s kind of low, even for you.

F-bomb: I’m not fucking finished.

Well, he sat back, feet pushed out in Front of him as he stared down at the tiny screen of his phone, willing to let he other boy answer

He’d be lying if he said he wasn't curious

F-bomb: He is just so happy all the time, and He clearly deserves better.

Pikachu: but would you date him?

F-bomb: Maybe. But why the hell would think that he would ever fucking like me?

Pikachu: he does like you, after all

F-bomb: What

Pikachu: Oh shit

F-bomb to Bakusquad

F-bomb: Kirishima, you fucking like me?

Bakugou knew he worded it wrong from the second after he clicked enter.

Sharkboy:

James Bondage: oh shit

Acid: Kami, what did you do?

Sharkboy: I have to go

Sharkboy has left the chat

James bondage: Not cool, bro.

Pikachu: Dude I’m so fucking sorry! I thought he knew?? He’s the gayest guy I know??? The fuck? Of course I assume that his big, gay crush was one of those who knew!

F-bomb: What the fuck

Acid: Ah fuck, I can’t believe you’ve done this.

James Bondage: Honestly, this isn't the time to be memeing.

Bakugou could only stare in shock at his phone screen, trying to comprehend whatever the hell just happened. God, after ignoring it all for so long, it finally made sense.
The colours, the “select gay feelings”, something that had become so minimal in their daily lives, had finally brought some meaning. All his life, Bakugou was known for being smart- being prepared for any given situation, be it through his poweress, his intelligence, or even just being there.

And, fuck, Bakugou wasn't prepared.

“Last person in each row, collect the tests.” Aizawa voice drones on behind him, followed by a zipping noise as the man exited that weird ass sleeping bag he always carried around. From across the rows of his classmates, Bakugou glanced at Kirishima, who sat with his head in his hands, phone clutched against his forehead.
Bakugou clenched his fists, unable to move until directed. Fuck, this was bad. Kirishima probably thought he hated him- which, by the way, was the farthest thing from true.

Plus, who would hate him for this? Anyone who dared do such would get an ass kicking from him, just you wait.

As soon as class was dismissed, Kirishima bolted out of the room, leaving his backpack in his hurry to escape. Seriously, he rivaled Iida with that speed.

Sending a glare towards the pale and regretful Kaminari, Bakugou followed him, slinging his backpack over his shoulders before rushing after him, grabbing Kirishima's backpack on the way. Screw cleaning duty, he had to fix all this shit- even if it meant that Aizawa would kick his ass yet again.

~

For someone whose room was next to his, Kirishima was really hard to find. After searching the gym (Kirishima’s usual training area), the cafeteria, the classrooms, the nurses office and numerous other places, Bakugou was ready to give up.

It wasn’t until the stars had begun to shine when Bakugou spotted him, sitting on the balcony across from his. His face was buried in his hands, and Bakugou couldn’t help but sigh. He had caused this, and the least he could do was fix his wrongs.

“Oi, shitty hair!” From the balcony beside his, he watches Kirishima stiffen, looking up from his hands as he turns to Bakugou. It didn’t take a genius to see through the fake smile that he donned when he realized just who was speaking to him.

“Hey, Bakubro, what’s up?” He was nervous, as if he didn’t quite know how bakugou would react. Bakugou only frowned, what had hurt him in the past that had caused him to act this way now?

Bakugou could only shake his head, holding up the strap of the backpack that Kirishima left. “You forgot this.”

He knows very well that that isn’t the reason why he’s been searching for kirishima all this time. God, he wants to jump over there and just tell Kirishima but he feels, but he can’t help but freeze. He doesn’t want to hurt Kirishima, especially if he was kidnapped by the league of villains just because he has villain like qualities. He doesn't want to hurt Kirishima- he doesn't want to lose him just because of stupid shut that Bakugou can't help but get himself into.

“Could you bring it over here?” There’s a hesitancy in Kirishima's voice as he speaks, his hands gripping the edges of his balcony as he eyes his bag. He's nervous, and Bakugou can't blame he. He really fucked up his response to all this. ’You fucking like me?’ seriously?

He sighs and nods, pushing himself over the ledge of his balcony with a tiny explosion. He’s done this before- plenty if times, but this time there's some sort of thickness in the air that makes Bakugou want to hold his breath and just slip off the edge, letting himself fall, fall, fall, into the unknown.

He places the bag in Kirishima's hands, eyes averted from the others as he turns to go back to his own balcony. He doesn't want this- any of it. He doesn't want either of them to be fucked over a stupid misunderstanding. He doesn't want either of them to fall apart. He's always been the blunt one, but for the first time, Bakugou feels the words caught in his throat.

That's why Kirishima beats him to the punch.

“I’m sorry,” The words were quiet as Bakugou turned back to Kirishima, hand still on the edge of the balcony. He knew where this was going, but he was hella bad at this whole ‘feelings’ thing. So he let Kirishima speak. “I didn’t mean to fall for you, you know? It just came to me one day like: ‘Oh shit, I guess you’re in love with your best friend,’” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. Bakugou could see the hesitance within his actions, the slight waver in his voice letting his true feelings about the matter show. Fuck, this is clearly a big misunderstanding. But shit man, why can’t he just speak up?
”look, I had an elaborate plan for all this, okay?” He looks up, eyes still a tad bit watery, as he continues, “I was going to hang out with you, one on one, the manly thing to do. Simple, right?” Kirishima chuckled sadly, a hand coming to run through his messy hair, “There were going to be fireworks, man! Fireworks..”

He sighs, looking away from Bakugou, ”Only to have that screwed up, and it’s not Kaminari’s fault either! I was just too scared to say it first, and it was only to find out that they guy I like doesn't even like me back.”

Within those broken words, Bakugou could confirm two things. 1) Kirishima most definitely liked him back 2) He clearly thought that Bakugou didn’t like him. Shit, that was bad. He didn’t quite know what he felt- since love is a twisted thing.
But for Kirishima, he’d be willing to try.

“Kirishima, you fucking idiot.”

Leaning over, he pressed a hand against Kirishima’s cheek, craning his own neck in order to look into the others tired eyes. He was close- fucking close enough to kiss him. Shit, just what had he gotten himself into. Kirishima seemed frozen for a moment, his eyes entrapped in Bakugou's. Oh well, he's too far along with this to back down now.

“I never said that I didn’t like you back.” When Bakugou didn't make any other attempt to move, Kirishima found his eyes drawn to Bakugou’s lips, the hand on his cheek warm- nearly as warm as his cheeks seemed to be in this moment.

Holy shit, how did they get here? He wasn't complaining- of course not, but Kirishima didn't know if his gay heart could handle all this.

For Bakugou, it was all worth it. Though his teeth were absolutely terrifying, the idea of kissing Kirishima sounded heavenly.

And with that, Bakugou decided to say ‘fuck fate’.

Leaning in, it didn't take long for their lips to meet.

Kirishima tensed as their lips made contact, but it didn't take long for him to melt into the kiss, putting his arms around Bakugou’s neck to pull him closer.

Neither of them could believe that this was happening, that they were out here, legitimately kissing under the moonlight, all because of some stupid bet that Kaminari and Sero had started up.

Kirishima still felt the same electricity shoot out from where Katsuki’s skin met his, racing down his body and making his heart flip. He melted into him, and he was glad that they were here, alone, with only the stars for their company because some part of him otherwise would be embarrassed by.. All this.
Not in a bad way either, but it would show that he, Bakugou Katsuki, had emotions? It’s more likely than you think.

Red was the color of their first kiss, the color of Kirishima's lips as they were pressed against his, the color if Kirishima’s hair as it was balled up in Bakugou's fist, the color of his blushing cheeks, the color of his eyes as they opened the minute after they pulled apart- a happy shine in them that Bakugou hadn't seen since Kamino.

Needless to say, Kirishima looked hella fine in the color red.
After a moment, they pulled away, panting as they looked at one another. Oh yeah, they were totally wrecked; faces dyed red as they avoided each others eyes.

Had Bakugou been asked about this the morning before, he probably would have yelled at whoever asking to get the hell out of his face, but he would have denied it. Now he can't help but think of how stupid it all was.
Laughter spilled from his lips at the thought, the thought that a single fucking text could have done this much. Character development is absolutely wild, and Bakugou mentally thanks Kaminari for fucking up that badly.

Kirishima looks at looks at him, a smile smile on his face as he watches Bakugou laugh. He gets it, how crazy this all is, but it doesn’t stop him from joining in as well, placing a hand on Bakugou’s shoulder as he laughs as well, a happy, disbelieving laugh.

Bakugou absentmindedly touches his wrist, where the strip of color seems to be burning brighter and brighter. He knows Kirishima can’t see it, but it’s certain: This guy was his soulmate.
He couldn’t have asked for anything better.
They sat there for a while, laughing as they thinking about the chance of it all. From the Sports Festival to Kamino, they had always been there for each other, having each other’s backs.

”You have a nice laugh,” it's a weird thing to say, and Kirishima knows it, but he can't shake off the surprise at the sound of it- Bakugou’s laugh. He hasn't heard it before, but goddamn, he’s glad he has now. It wasn't a pretty laugh, more like a cackle, but with the way his eyes shine when he does it, and the way that his face is no longer scrunched up with anger, Kirishima decides that it's a good look for him.

Bakugou frowns, turning away from Kirishima with an embarrassed blush. “Shut it.”
Kirishima only laughs, a hint of red still on his cheeks as he shakes his head. He’s used to this- he knows this. The same old tsundere Bakugou.
Even if it can get troublesome, he doesn’t want this- any of this to change.

Kirishima looks up at the sky, sighing contentedly as he watches the stars and the cityscape in the distance, lights twinkling as the city began to go to sleep. They seemed so small in the moment- as if the world was too big for them. But, with Bakugou beside him, Kirishima felt big, as if he was at the top of the world.

But Bakugou doesn't look at the sky, eyes drawn into the red that was Kirishima’s eyes. The light seemed to reflect in their scarlet depths, causing them to shine.

Though this wasn't the first time, Bakugou realized just how lucky he is.

”I think this beats the fireworks, huh?” Kirishima whispers, eyes looking up at the stars as he leans on Bakugou’s shoulder. For once, Bakugou doesn't pull away, instead putting an arm around Kirishima's waist, pulling him even closer.

From above, the stars twinkle down, bathing light on the two, and, honestly, Bakugou couldn't have asked for a better moment.
”Yeah,” Bakugou answers, leaning his head on top of Kirishima's. He smiled, leaning back to steal another kiss, ”It really does.”

~
The next day when they walked into the classroom, hand in hand, Mina and Kaminari screamed.
(And don’t worry, Aizawa saw to put them both on the same cleaning duty team, even if they were supposed to be punished. Huh, maybe he does have a heart after all).

~

Chapter Text

There were those times when even Bakugou managed to smile at the sheer chance of it all, how Kirishima- his best bro (as Kaminari says) was his soulmate? (boyfriend? He never really liked that word)

Anyway, Kirishima was his.
Sometimes, it was too good to be true.

Honestly, he felt kind of bad that their relationship wasn’t much to talk about, nothing more than the occasional (constant) make-out sessions held behind closed doors, or the few times they hung out together outside of classes.

The thing is, Bakugou absolutely did not do dating. After the whole ”popcorn” incident, as Kaminari had dubbed it once Kirishima had posted about it in the Bakusquad chat (Bakugou somehow managed to blow up a popcorn cart at the culture festival. Explosions and unused popcorn kernels did not work).
Seriously, it was a mess.

The closest thing they had to date night was their snuggle sessions after curfew, which was pretty self explanatory within itself.
Even when Aizawa had banged on their door at 3:00am, eyes narrowed and tired as he sternly told them to get back to their own rooms. That day, Aizawa had been extra harsh on them, the bags under his eyes telling the entire story.

But it was worth it.

Besides that and them breaking school rules, there were their little study sessions.

There had been a time in Bakugou’s life when he absolutely hated those things because 1) He had never wanted to be a teacher 2) He had no patience for the sheer stupidity of others.

But now, Kirishima changed that. Even though he did struggle sometimes, he clearly was getting better at it

~

”Bakugou, look!”

Wide eyes, and a large smile accompanied the voice as Bakugou looked up, annoyance written all over his face before he realized who it was. Kirishima stood in front of him, frantically waving his test paper around. Bakugou couldn't see the score due to the blur of the red markings as Kirishima waved it around, but he assumed it must be something decent.

What else could it be?

Honestly, Bakugou hadn't even looked at his paper, knowing that 1, he had either ranked 2nd or 3rd again, since he was giving Iida a run for his money, and 2) he didn't really care or, well- that's a lie. He cared a lot, but he couldn't just let other people know that.

Kirishima only smiled at Bakugou’s confusion, unceremoniously shoving a piece of paper in his face.

Bakugou’s eyes trailed across the paper from the bottom up, looking at the few red markings that had been stained across the white sheet. Huh, he mused, there was a lot fewer than last time.
Eventually, he looked at the top, for he noticed the clear impatience written all over Kirishima’s face.

8th, read the top of his paper.

Eyes widening, he looked back at Kirishima, whose eyes were wide- as if he was in disbelief himself.

”I know!”

Holy shit, he managed to overtake grapefucker.

Ignoring the questioning looks given to them by their classmates because of their silent exchange, Bakugou smiled. Though it was small, as not to draw attention to himself. He didn’t want to end up like Yaoyorozu, who ended up tutoring at least half the class. From the corner of his eye, Bakugou watched as Kirishima raced over to the other members of their little friend group, nearly in happy tears as he waved his paper around.

Kaminari and Mina pretty much ripped the paper from his hands, staring at the number in awe. Sero looked on from over their shoulders, eyebrow raised. But, even with the permanent cocky smile that he always donned, he looked hella impressed.

”Kirishima, holy shit dude, what's your secret?” Kaminari wasn't really quiet with his words, practically shouting as he shook Kirishima’s shoulders. Kaminari had gotten better at this whole ‘school’ thing, but he’s never made top 10- or top 13. RIP to him.

”Studying, I guess.” He said, but Bakugou didn't miss the glance at him from the corner of his eye.

Oh, that's right; the others didn't know about their study sessions.

Kirishima must have caught Bakugou staring (Shit, he really needed to be more discreet about that) because he looked over his shoulder, a soft smile on his lips.

Though the words were silent, Bakugou only had to look to see that Kirishima was saying ’thank you.’

~ 

Bakugou had to suppress a little bit of pride at the thought, for he knew that it was all Kirishima. He had gotten himself this far and, though might have needed some support along the way, he had come pretty damn far.

Though the study sessions weren't much to write home about, they were certainly something.

And, hey, small things can be make the biggest impact, right?

~ 

The sound of pencil on paper, pages flipping, and the occasional tapping of fingers were the only sounds in the room as the two boys worked them constantly flipping through their textbooks and scribbling down notes on pieces of paper as they frantically tried to cram for the upcoming midterms.

“Hey, Katsuki.” Bakugou looked up from where he had his nose buried in his textbook. Their secondyear midterms were coming up, and if they were going to be anything like they were last year, then he needed to study. However, Kirishima- the idiot- decided that that wasn’t the case, a strand of hair twirling around his fingers as he stared at anything that wasn’t his textbook. Bakugou grunted, marking his page with his bookmark.

“What’re you doing?” He huffed out, kind of mad about his book, and kind of not because this was Kirishima he was talking about.
Kirishima blinked, and suddenly, there it was, that dumb smile that always found its way on his face. God, Bakugou hated it, hated the way that Kirishima only continued to smile at him, face in palm as he watched Bakugou work, red eyes in some sort of a daze.

It wasn't as if the attention wasn't unwelcome, but it was distracting.

“Oi, shitty hair.” Kirishima looked up, eyes on Bakugou as he sat up. The dumb smile had receded into a softer one, one that barely pulled his lips apart as he stared into space. It was strange, how such a small thing could determine so much about a person. Bakugou was close enough to Kirishima to know that he was thinking about something, and whatever it was, it was distracting him.

But seriously, he didn’t want that self pitying bullshit in Kirishima’s mind right now, or in general, as the dude was so much better than he let himself believe.
And really, right in the middle of their study session?
“Kirishima,” He grunted out, tossing a pencil at the gelled up mess that has been named Kirishima’s hair. Even though he had outwardly stated that he hated it, it had really grown on him. All thought on Kirishima's hair aside, the pencil bounced off the offending object, nearly embedding itself into his hair until it fell the floor with a small ‘click’.
That seemed to snap Kirishima out of the daze he had been in. He sat up to attention, arms splayed out to his sides as he looked up at Bakugou, blinking in confusion.

“You should be studying. What are you doing?” He crossed his arms over his chest, already feeling the urge to sigh at this idiots antics. But then, Kirishima’s face shifted, his eyes dropping until his goofy smile was all that you could make out on his face. It should be weird, but it’s not, especially with the way that it made Bakugou’s heart jump.
But oh, he knew that look, the sly, stupid look that Kirishima got whenever he was about to say something completely and utterly stupid. Things along the lines of ‘Do fish get thirsty’, ‘Do pigeons have feelings’, and ‘is Suneater into vore.’ are the main candidates for whatever Kirishima was thinking about. Bakugou didn’t even want to know at this point, but he did find it amusing.
But, really, what was he doing?
“Well,” Kirishima paused, leaning in with his head resting on his palm, his smile cocky as he continued,

“I’m looking at you.”

Oh, that was a new one.
Honestly, the whole ‘confessions’ bullshit has already been a long time past, both of them accidentally being exposed to the others feelings because of Ashido’s inability to keep her gossip in the right group chat. Seriously, how hard is it to keep the gay shit out of the 1-A chat? After the whole, ’Bakushima exposed’ scandal, the news somehow leaked its way into the 1-A chat(Now known as: YaoMomo? More like NoHomo). Even Aizawa knew about it, and everyone knows that that dude lives under a rock.
Opening the page to where he had been before. He saw Eijirou turn back to his book as well, kicking his legs idly as he scrolled page by page.

But, Kirishima wasn’t looking at the book, he was looking at him.

“I love you.”

 The smile was so sincere, that Bakugou has to do everything in his power to see anything else than the color red, their color.
Bakugou shook his head, a soft smile on his face as he turned to the next page in the book that he was reading, but he didn't reply, eyes darting down from Kirishima's the second the words had passed his lips.

Holy shit. He never got tired of those words.

Though Kirishima has said those 3 little words a lot- ever since they confessed, Bakugou has never been able to get himself to say it. Maybe it’s the fact that they’re are people when Kirishima does it, maybe it’s because he’s caught off guard. But now, it’s just the two of them, and there’s no excuse not to.

Listening around him, it was clear that Kirishima wasn’t doing his work either, probably staring off into space again as Bakugou read.
Well, it wasn’t like the paragraph that Bakugou had been rereading for the past 5 minutes had been helping very much.

“Oi, Eijirou.” Kirishima looked up, red eyes wide as he looked at Bakugou. Nose still buried in his textbook, Bakugou smiled, “I love you too.”

~

The soft smiles, the overwhelming urge to just wipe the cocky smirks off of Kirishima’s face with a kiss- just to show to the world that he was his, the warmth of Kirishima’s hand in his, just fucking everything about Kirishima was enough to make him feel happy.
He doesn't want this- any of this to end. He doesn't want the things he's worked so hard to achieve, his friends, his comrades, his relationship with Kirishima to come to a stop- an unfortunate demise. But, even with the promises they both made, both of them looking into each others eyes as they said that they'd be okay, things didn't always end up the way they wanted.

Promises were meant to be broken, after all.

~

There was the final battle.

~

Chapter Text

There was the final battle. 

-

With triumph, came pain. 

His life was no longer the gentle breeze that it used to be. Now, strong gusts of wind wrapped around him, trapping him in his choatic mind.  And Kirishima, well, he wasn't just a breeze. He was a hurricane that bombarded him constantly, striking against every inch of his body, leaving him helpless to his incoming emotions.  And though he stayed hunkered down in the corner, he knew it was only a matter of time before that storm broke through. Kirishima was like that; always striking through. 

He shouldn't leave him- he knew he couldn't. But everyday, he felt that breeze getting stronger, enough so that he was having more and more trouble fighting against it. 

So now, here they were, trapped together in this fucking shithole.

That's when Bakugou’s walls were finally blown down. 

How had everything gone to shit so quickly? 

Bakugou could only numbly sense his surroundings, being battered down by the countless amounts of villains that seemed to rain down on them. Reinforcements wouldn’t be able to reach them for a long time, considering that they were yet again secluded from the city- stupid fucking warp quirk. Things wouldn't be so fucked if they hadn't teleported them all here. 

He grits his teeth as he backs up, protectively standing over the figure underneath him. It wasn’t supposed to be like this; they were supposed to be taking their final exam- together. They were supposed to be working with their partners- the teachers alongsde them as everything went down.

But no.

They were here- they being the third years of U.A high school. The warp fucker had somehow managed to teleport them all to this secluded location, causing them to fight for their lives against villains in order to survive.

As more and more villains- big and small alike, pushed themselves out of the thick foliage, Bakugou couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Beaten, bloodied, bruised. His heart was racing, his legs weak, his shoulders slouching - everything hurt. His muscles ached, his hands were twitching from overuse of his quirk. His veins burned. Each inch of his body screamed out, louder than anything he’d ever heard before- be it during training, when he was kidnapped, or when Kaninari decided to shock him- more intense than any hatred or any pain he’d felt before. 

Anger, anger, anger - it suddenly surged through him, a wave of determination, fueled by his rage. Rage at whom or what, he wasn’t sure; he had neither the time nor the patience to figure it out. He just knew he was angry, and he had to put this all to a stop.

“Kirishima!”  

Even with all the villains around him, his pain, his attention was only focused on the motionless body in front of him.

Fuck, no, not again.

Fuck- it was so much like the dream he had had so long ago- 

But, no matter how nightmarish this seemed- this was real.  

A motionless figure, blood welling up from underneath him where his skin had seemed to have torn.

The blank eyes of his best friend, the feeling of emptiness when he went limp in his arms, the spatter if blood- his blood, as his skin flaked away.

Bakugou choked in a breath, taking Kirishima's motionless form in his arms while he faces the villains off, gaze set and determined as he prepares to protect- not fight. 

Bakugou wasn’t an idiot. He knows when the fight would be hopeless to pursue. Had Kirishima been in action, they’d be able to hold their own, but, with him like this..

 Bakugou doesn’t even want to look at his managled and scarred form, laying limp in his arms, the short and shallow breaths the only hint of him being alive. 

He grits his teeth, allowing his arms to pull Kirishima closer to him. Even if he wasn't there when all this happened, he was there now. And there's no way in hell that he would ever let anyone hurt Kirishima when he was down. Fuck, he really should have been there- he should have had his back.

It wasn’t as if he wanted to be like this- separated from him while they were both forced to fight for their lives.

~

“Yo, Bakugou!” Bakugou could only suppress a smile as he turned to the overly cheerful voice. He saw red, the color of spiky hair, the color of his eyes, the color of of him.

Kirishima wandered over to Bakugou, adjusting the gears of his hero costume with that stupidly endearing smirk on his face.

 Slinging an arm around the other boys shoulder, Kirishima leaned against Bakugou, eyes shining,

”Guess who’s on your team!”

Across his chest, the letter ‘A’ hung from a banner, which signifies the team he was to be on. A similar ‘A’ hung across his own chest, and for that Bakugou couldn’t help but he greatful for. 

It was the final exams of their third year, and they were supposed t go out and face legitimate criminals out on the streets. 

It was similar to that of their previous final exams, however, there were to be no limitations, no time restraint, or anything within this battle; it was a battle to the death, per say. 

Kirishima was close, and Bakugou could still smell the Taiyaki in his breath, it was kind of gross, but it didn’t take long for Kirishima’s lips to entrance him once more. 

Kirishima laughed as Bakugou pressed his lips to his own, knowing how straightforward(ha) he could be. Their relationship had been a wild ride, from the entire class finding out (Again, Mina and Denki screamed), to All Might giving them a.. Specific talk regarding that of their relationship (Kaminari will never let them live it down. To this day, Kirishima remains mortified). 

 As they pulled away from one away, soft smiles on their faces, they didn't quite notice the eyes on them. 

“PDA!” Kirishima heard Kaminari say from behind him, and he couldn’t help but choke back a laugh as Bakugou chucked one of his newly equipped stun grenades (a blank) at him. 

Rolling his eyes, Kirishima smiled apologetically at his bro, who stood beside Iida, who looked just about ready to call Denki the hell out for his behaviour. Oh well, R.I.P Denki 2018.

“You ready for this?” Kirishima asked, his hand intertwining with Bakugou’s as they stood side by side. Bakugou could only scoff, adjusting his mask with his free hand,

“As if I wouldn’t be.” 

Throughout the years, they had both changed. They had both grown taller, their bodies become accustomed to their quirks as they have pushed to their limits tome and time again. Kirishima still remembered the trials that their teachers pushed them through time and time again, be it through them playing twister for flexibility(I shit you not), through having Aizawa kick their asses. Shit was wild. 

Even with all that training and nearly 12 years of schooling, Kirishima still didn't know how to do taxes. 

Everyone in the class had matured in their own ways, be it through the introduction Shinsou into the hero course, be it through Mineta learning not to be a complete shithead after All Might nearly kicked his ass for his perverted behaviour(took him long enough), or maybe through Bakugou finally stepping into his place as a possible leader. Seriously, he really did mellow out during their years at U.A  

Watching as Bakugou rolled his eyes about Midoriya and Todoroki’s match up, Kirishima couldn't help but sigh. Even with all the mellowing out that Bakugou had been through, he still had that weird inferiority complex when it came down to Midoriya. 

That fact that he was still cocky as hell contributed to it too. 

”Alright y’all,” he heard Present Mic speak from the top of the stairs, his voice pretty much echoing off the smooth marble of the town hall. From around them, onlookers began to look on, whispering excitedly about all the heroes that seemed to have gathered in the town square. 

Bakugou couldn't help but scoff at those who looked at them in disdain. Really, people who thought heroes were bad without even knowing what they had to go through in order to be a hero really needed to hop off.

”This is your final exam, to fight crime!” 

Jeez, did this guy ever know when to be quiet? Announcing their plans to the whole damn world really wouldn't help their chances of finding any suitable criminals to face off against.

Then again, maybe that's the point; to lure out the stronger villains, ones who are willing to risk their lives for their cause, out of the shadows.

All his teachers from their years stood over them, proud looks in their eyes as they looked over the next generation of heroes. Aizawa was there, his hair as messy as ever, but on his face was that smile that they all came to know- the one that nearly scared the shit out of Deku in the first day of school. There was Present Mic, a really loud boy, with that cocky grin that sat on his 

There was Midnight, the teacher that he was surprised that she was even allowed to be teaching a school. (Seriously, he wondered how the Heteros were dealing with the sight). He honestly had mixed feelings about her, considering what she did to him during the first sports festival (After the slime incident, he can't handle being restrained), but she was an alright teacher, so he kind of has to respect her. 

Even with all the faces he’s come to know, he can't help frown at the absence of one.

There was one person from their first year that was missing, that larger than life, bright presence that they had all come to know outside of the tv screen the one with a smile so real, so reassuring, that it made everyone feel better, even in the darkest of times. 

Fuck, he missed All Might. 

The former Symbol of Peace had been hospitalized soon after their second year final, his injuries from his battles with all for one finally catching up to him as he weakened. 

It was a quiet night the day All Might died, alone in his hospital room, the lights off as he slipped in an eternal slumber. It was Recovery Girl and Tsukauchi who found him, his heart moniter a constant beep as it flatlined. 

They received news third period that day- Bakugou remembers it. He remembers being done with his English assignment, watching with attentive eyes as the door slid open, and how Aizawa came into the room, eyes more tried than usual. 

It was at that moment when Bakugou realised something was wrong.  

”All Might passed away last night.”

He remembers the tears- the ones that he had tried to hide; the ones that flowed out of his eyes. He hadn’t realized he was crying until Kirishima looked at him, tears in his own eyes. As the other boy slid out of his seat to console him, others followed suit, english assignment all but forgotten as they raced over to their own friends. 

 But it hadn’t been as bad for him as it had Midoriya. Watching as Kirishima was intercepted by Kaminari, he turned to the boy behind him, eyes narrowed, watery, as he looked over to Midoriya. 

He was quiet, his green eyes wide in shock as he looked down at his paper. For once, he wasn’t turning around to chide the other boy, to show that he was behind him. As Kirishima put it, he didn’t need to do such things 5 times a day (or at all, really.), so as time went by, he stopped. 

Snap  

Midoriya flinched as he felt another’s eyes on him, looking up slowly to meet Bakugou’s eyes. The pencil in his hand was cracked, split by Midoriya’s grip. Shit, that must’ve hurt. If there were any pencil shards in his hand, Midoriya didn’t flinch, eyes silently meeting Bakugou’s in a conversation- a challenge. 

Make fun of me now, I dare you.

Bakugou has only ever seen Midoriya mad 3 times in his life. 1 was when he was being kidnapped, and how, even with his broken arms bound to his sides, he was screaming bloody murder.

“Let Kacchan go!”

The second was when he came back from the internships, quiet, scarred, nervous of everything around him. After speaking to the group about Kirishima, he had broken away from the group, leaving Uraraka and Tsuyu to deal with the rest of their friends.

Bakugou couldn’t help but narrow his eyes at the other boys behaviour, watching as he slunk away into the shadows; it was so unlike Midoriya- Deku to do such a thing. 

If he weren’t so worried for Kirishima- if he weren’t too busy seeking out Uraraka’s judgement, maybe he would have followed. 

Maybe. 

Okay, no, he probably wouldn't have, considering he literally was sprinting to the hospital the moment Uraraka let up. But, after finding out what happened with Midoriya, and how they all had to watch Nighteye die, how they all had to save a child someone less than 6 years old, who was constantly being killed and then brought back to her terrible life, he understood why Midoriya was absolutely livid. 

He was mad too when he first heard about it- that he wasn't there. Stupid fucking provisional license exam.

But he understood the feeling evident in Midoriya’s pale eyes. Even though he hated it- he understood. 

The third was now, but it wasn’t an angry that Bakugou could identify with; it was kind of an angry-sad, the kind where you couldn’t cry- not then, but the kind where you had to keep it all inside- trying to act as if someone had encased you in ice, as if you was frozen within your own heart, throwing all his emotions under the dirt, throwing yourself against the pile with only the ability to scream. 

It was the kind of sad that Bakugou was terrified of. 

Midoriya has never really externally showed it, but with those clear, emerald, eyes, the one's that revealed all of his emotions to those who took time to watch, he was an open book.

He’s seen what anger can do to people- he’s seen how terrifying one who was previously seen as something soft (like Uraraka, but, based on experience, he knows she can, and will, kick his ass), turn into a monster.

But with this anger, there’s a sadness his can’t quite put his finger on. It’s the kind of sad where you don’t know what to do, where you sit there, staring at the space in front of you, shocked beyond belief, with only one thought on your mind:

“What have I become?”

 He might be seen as an asshole, and he might hate the guy, but he’s supposed to be a hero too; he can’t stand to see people like this- suffering. 

Especially when All Might, someone Midoriya considered a father figure (which was no secret, especially after he’s called him dad- Multiple times) waaa dead. 

 Fuck, he’s tempted to cradle his head in his hands, to wallow in self pity over the fact that All Might, the number one hero- his hero, was dead.

But no, he has to be strong; not just for himself but for- he stares at the boy behind him, biting his lip as he thought about all this. He had to be strong, not just for himself- and he can’t believe he’s thinking this but

He has to be strong for Deku.

He reached out, he placed a hand on Midoriya’s arm, trying his best to ignore the way the other boy flinched underneath his touch. 

Fuck, he didn’t know why he was doing this, why he was trying to console the person he had hated for so long- someone who was a threat to him and his future success.  It had to be because of the shock- that such news was making him crazy, that he was doing this out of pure pity.  

As he watched Midoriya look up, the emotion in his eyes nothing less than broken- something so similar to the looks he gave Bakugou back then just as he was about to bully him, a look so akin- so alike to Bakugou’s own feelings, Bakugou realized one thing.

Maybe he and Midoriya weren't so different after all.

-

“You can become the best heroes, who both win and rescue.”

- 

It was a fucking mess.

The funeral for Toshinori Yagi, in no other words, was depressing as fuck.  

They had all gathered there that day to pay condolences- not just to All Might, but to Toshinori Yagi, All Might’s.. Real identity? 

After seeing All Might be strong for so long, larger than life even when he was forced to stay in his weaker form, it was strange to see him so still, so small, lying in the box the way he was.

When he smile it’s with forced confidence- forced feeling; a mask. The weight of the world is on his shoulders, and, if he isn’t careful, the ground will crack underneath his feet. It’s too much, too much.

His facade is hidden well underneath denial and refusal, because he is strong, and strength does not falter.

It's quiet.

It was Gran Torino who broke the stunned silence, voice quiet as he placed a gloved hand on the coffin before him. 

“You weren’t supposed to die before me, kid.”

Fuck, those words had screwed him up.

He had left after that, walking away from the crowd. He didn’t care about the eyes on him; his view was set on the ground before him, the weight of the world on his shoulders as he struggled not to fall, to keep in control of the soil underneath his feet, so he won’t sink and fall.

Why did I become the reason for All Might’s end? 

It hurts.

It was Kirishima who found him, 4 hours later, curled up on his balcony, eyes red and puffy as he looked up at the stars. The balcony had become their space over the years, and Kirishima knew that this was the place where Bakugou would come if he ever needed some form of consolation.

Bakugou felt Kirishima sit let to him, a toned arm coming to drape over his hunched shoulders as Kirishima pulled him to his side.

Letting out a shaky breath, Bakugou had leaned his head against Kirishima’s shoulder. Closing his eyes as he let Kirishima’s presence surround him. The balcony frame dug into his back, but he didn't care, only relishing in the feeling of having someone there. 

It’ll be okay.

He sighs, trying his best to shake away the memories. He didn't have time to think about the depressing shit right now. He had to focus- he had to fight.

He feels Kirishina give their interwined hands a squeeze, but he can't being himself to look into the other boys eyes- for he knew, of he looked into those red depths, there would be no way out; he’d be pulled in. 

He’s fallen prey to those eyes before, and he doesn't want to repeat such a thing again. 

Well, not before their final exam, anyway. 

Even when he averted his eyes, looking down at the oaved ground underneath them, Bakugou knew what Kirishima was trying to ask. 

Are you okay? 

Kirishima likes to think he’s pretty good at reading Bakugou, and it's not secret that he is. (Mina has asked his secret countless times) But, Bakugou was pretty good at reading Kirishina too.

 He could imagine it; the way his red eyes were wide, analytical, worried.

He grunted, turning to look up at Principal Nezu, who had begun to speak. 

To some, it would seen as if Bakugou was ignoring Kirishima, but Kirishima understood Bakugou in ways that tnot even Bakugou understood himself. 

It’s fine

He feels Kirishima give his hand a gentle squeeze once again, but he doesn’t ask any follow up questions. 

”Alright. You pass if you're able to take down at least one wrong-doer,” Nezu says, his ratty little paw raised in the air as he spoke, ”good luck, future heroes!”

Bakugou glances to the side, a grin pulling at his lips as Nezu finishes his speech, signaling the start. Kirishima’s eyes meet his, red hot and burning like coals. 

Oh yeah, they were ready.

And together, they were totally going to kick ass

~

Red was the color they saw when everything changed. 

~

They were at the edge of the town. 

For it being the middle of the day, it was eerily quiet. There was no laughter of the little children that played here earlier in the day, no chatter as couples decided on where to eat, no patter of footsteps as people hurried to work, no honking of the cars that should be driving through the paved streets. 

It was silent. 

Too silent. 

Bakugou frowned, eyes narrowed as he watched Kirishima walk out from an alleyway that they had been scanning. The other boy’s eyes we're narrowed, confused, as he shook his head. 

”Nah, nothing over here.” 

Bakugou didn't know what he was surprised. There had to be something around here that made this who ‘silent’ setting as fucking creepy as it was.

They turned away from the alleyway, still not finding anything worth checking out.  Their comms crackle in their ears, no doubt from conversation between the other pairs. Bakugou wondered if the others had already found some criminals.

They better not be fucking ahead of us already 

As if the world was able to hear his thoughts, A loud explosion echoed through the calm air, intruding on the would-be peaceful nlight- had it not been for the unsettling silence and the, obvious, explosion, which was Declaring that they shouldn’t be here. 

”The fuck was that?” 

Fire had erupted from another alleyway, the smoke from the inferno billowing out into the sky above. 

Alleyways and a fire, there’s definitely nothing wrong with that.

Red eyes met red in a silent conversation, mouths set in a grim line as they decide on just what to do. With a nod, they set off, racing side by side toward the danger. They might be students, but they’re heroes too, and there’s no way in hell that they’re going to let these goddamn criminals get away with this.

Especially when hero team: Red Riot and F-Bomb (god, they really needed to come up with a better team name) were there to stop them.

 ~

This was no normal criminal.

They had raced into the alleyway, side by side as they prepared to fight. It was rash of them, sure, but it was their first legitimate mission as upcoming heroes, so could you blame them for being excited?

They had raced into the alleyway, smoke billowing out from the crowded space into the streets around them. He and Kirishima raced straight in, accustomed to fire and whatever came with it (training with Todoroki came in handy sometimes) 

Squinting his eyes, Bakugou and Kirishima stood back to back, searching? Scanning for any sign of danger- waiting to make the first move. 

Grey skin and red eyes were all Bakugou saw before he was sent flying. A punch connects with his jaw, the momentum sending Bakugou reeling back against the wall. He grits his teeth as he feels his back slam into the hard concrete of the building behind him, but there's adrenaline pumping through his veins, and, though he knows for a fact that that shit is definitely going to leave a bruise, he doesn't feel it- not yet. The fact that this no-name asshole has managed to land a hit on him stokes the embers of his anger into a full-blown flame. 

Some kind of speed quirk? Bakugou doesn’t know. But there's no way in hell that he’s going to let this little rat get the best of him. 

He shakes his head, getting to his feet as he brushes remnants of the crushed brick off his arms. He’s had worse, and there’s no way he’s going to be little pussy bitch just because of a few scratches.  

”Bakugou!” Kirishima yells and starts running towards him. But before can start the villain ricochets towards him and slams into him, knocking him to the ground. He doesn’t hit hard, but he hits fast. Between him and the right space, neither of them can get a solid hit in or retreat.

Wow, whose idea was it to fight in here, anyway? 

“I’m fine!” Bakugou shouts back to Kirishima, watching as the other boy struck out at the villain,  his arms hardened and ready to slice, ”Fuckin normies like him aren't going to get away with this!” He growls, crouching down, his gauntlets, prepared to blast this dude into space. “You better be ready for this, you asshat!”

Yeah, with his ability to maintain a vocabulary as sophisticated as that, he’s fine.

As the villain turns to look at his outburst, a twisted grin on his silver face, Kirishima rushes forward, body hardened and ready to strike. He might be better off with defense, but he's a hero too; he can fight. 

He grabs the villain as he prepares to ricochet off the wall, catching the villain by the torso as he heaved him backwards. Hardened skin dug into soft flesh, and he hears the villain choke from above him as he limits his ability to breathe. He loosens his grip a bit more so he villain can at least choke out a few breaths, but that doesn’t stop Bakugou.

The explosive boy blasted himself forward, one of his palms angled toward that of the villains face before he let loose. Kirishima hardened his body on reflex, more than used to Bakugou’s outbursts. That didn’t save the villain though, as smoke and fire erupted into his face, Kirishima felt his struggling weaken.

There's a cough, and Kirishima releases the villain, brushing soot out of his eyes as he allows Bakugou to take over the interrogation.

”Who are you?” Bakugou kneels on top of the villain, pinning him against the wall as he attempts to struggle out of the heroes grip. “Tell me who you work for- what is your purpose?” He remembers Aizawa teaching him to say such things when you apprehended a villain, and he’s thankful for the lesson, but, honestly, he wanted to throw formality to the side and beat this dude into the concrete.

The grey skinned villain laughs, his voice raspy, “Why should I tell you? Is it because you're a hero?” the villain attempted to raise his first, but Bakugou quickly slammed it down, ignoring the villain’s wince as it cracked against the wall. But the villain remained strong, ”Oh, I'm so scared.” The villain rolls his eyes, and Bakugou growls. He hated people like this, the sarcastic ones who never know when its the right moment to do something. He tightens his grip on the villain, knees holding down his torso as he raises his first menacingly, explosions dancing over the surface of his rough skin. The villain’s eyes widen slightly, and Bakugou can't help but grin; the villain shouldn't be the one on top.

Top Bakugou? More likely than you think. 

”I said,” Bakugou said through gritted teeth, ”what is your purpose?” 

Kirishima looks at him as he holds his fiery fist closer to the villains face, close enough to feel 

“F-Bomb,” Kirishima warns, knowing very well that Bakugou was taking it a bit too far. “ask him questions, not burn him, okay?”

He hated being told off, but he knew Kirishima was right. Growling, he raised his hand further from the villains face, but still kept it up as a threat. 

 “Oh, how cute,” the villain chokes out a laugh, wheezing as bakugou digs his knee further into his abdomen, ”the star-crossed lovers, coming here to kick my ass.”

Bakugou freezes, eyes wandering to find Kirishima’s. Wide eyes meet his own, could it be that obvious? Did they show too much?

”What the hell are you talking about?” Bakugou spits not, not taking a second to turn back to the villain, clenched fists close over grey skin, the searing heat littering the palms of Bakugou’s hands digging into the grey flesh of the villain below.

“Oh yeah, you two aren’t secrets.” The villain’s foggy eyes focus on his own, and Bakugou can't help but notice just how red their irises are. ”I’ve heard a lot about you from Shigaraki, Ground zero,” the villain laughs, voice raspy, “or should I say, Bakugou Katsuki.” 

Bakugou shivers at the villains words, grip tightening on the villains arm. “It’s a shame,” the villain continues, grinning as he feels Bakugou tense, “you really did have so much promise; it’s too bad you didn’t join us back then.” 

Bakugou opens his mouth to speak, venom about to lace his words.

But Kirishima beat his to it.

”Shut up,” he steps closer to the villain, red eyes full of anger as he take sin the villains pinned form, “don’t say that shit; Bakugou’s more of a hero than you will ever be.” 

Bakugou’s heart warms at the words, but he can’t let his softer side be shown here, not when he’s in the middle of taking this dude down.

“Sure, sure, kid. But even with your current facade, there seems to be one thing you’re forgetting,” the villain’s eyes glitter menacingly, the grin on his face turning wild,

“You might be heroes, but the thing is..” There was sharp kick to his stomach, and, suddenly, Bakugou was pushed back, arms splayed in front of him as the villain pushed him off of him, but that didn’t stop the villain from rushing in, knife in his hand and he prepared to strike.

”You’re still human!” 

Kirishima was moving before he knew what was going on. 

His body moved on it’s own, a rush of adrenaline sending him forward.

And then suddenly, he was between the criminal and Bakugou, and the blade was swinging towards him, and he braced himself for impact—

He realized, a moment before it came, that his skin wasn't hardened enough- and that this would probably hurt like a little bitch.

”Shit,” he hisses out, holding his side he feels the strike slash against his ribs. The knife doesn't cut through the skin, but he knows that it'll surely leave a bruise. 

If it was anyone else but him, who literally had to reinforce his flesh in order not to have been stabbed straight through his abdomen, they would have been dead. 

The criminal was right, he was human. But that only made him more of a hero- him being willing to put his life on the line in the line of duty, in order to keep others sage. 

”Kirishima!” Kirishima feels Bakugou before he see him, the other boy racing forward, and outstretched hand ready to help.

He can't help but smile at that, pushing himself up off the floor. He remembers himself doing the same all those year's ago, and how Balugou chose him as they soared across that of the Kamino ward. Even with the happy memories, it doesn't help shake away his pain. He grunts as he gets up, his smile forced at the edges. His side hurts, but he's had worse. 

When he looks up, Bakugou is snarling at the villain who is bouncing around the street like a pinball. “You okay?” He says to Kirishima, eyes narrowed with anger, but Kirishima is close enough to recognize the worry in their depths.

Bakugou stands by his side, and Kirishima stands tall.

“I’ve had worse.” 

The villain stands across from them, a blade wielded in his hand. There’s no blood on it, not yet, but Bakugou doesn’t want to stick around and see that shit. 

It’s the villain who attacks first, using the wall once again to ricochet and lunge toward them. He’s reminded of Gran Torino, a ancient hero Midoriya introduced him to slightly before All Might’s death. His quirk was really similar; it’s strange how two with the same abilities can end up on opposite sides of the war.

He feels the punch collide with his jaw, but he doesn’t let go of the villain, not this time. He’s ready, taking him flying into the wall with him. Bakugou isn’t for that self sacrifice shit, but if he’s going down, the villains going to go down with him. He grits his teeth as he pushes off the wall once more, villain still in his grip, the other man dazed from the hit, but he’s still very well able to fight. He feels his legs shake underneath him, weak from the collision, but as he tossed the villain to the ground, allowing Kirishima to get back into position, he grins.

No-name two-bit villains aren’t allowed to get the best of them, and if his jaw is bruised tomorrow he’s going to be pissed. 

As he pushes off from the wall, his features pull into a savage smile

”You really want to fuck with us, eh?” 

He revels in the way that the villains eyes widen, eyes trailing over Bakugou’s barely battered form. The criminal is terrified-  and, for someone who claims that he knows so much about them, he clearly doesn't know what he’s gotten himself into. 

Bakugou explodes. 

With his hands behind him, Bakugou pushes himself forward, zipping towards the villain at warp speed. The villain barely manages to dodge, using his arm to pull him up atop of a dumpster. But Kirishima, arms and chest hardened, is ready, colliding head first with the villain and causing him to fall into the mounds of trash-a place where he, arguably, belongs. 

The villain grinned, shaking off a piece of trash of his face as he struggles to find a purchase within the garbage laden dumpster. Yet, there was a sadistic smirk on his face as he was cornered by the two heroes. That was unnerving, say to the least. But they’re ready this time. Dragging the villain out of the dumpster, Kirishima holds him up by his collar, body hardened just in case the guy had the bright idea to strike once more. “Well, this certainly is a tight spot, right? Haha...” there’s a slight tremor in his words

There's blood rushing from the corner of his lips, a thin trial dripping out onto the ground below. “Oh well, the league of villains is still out there,” the villain let out a sadistic laugh, blood splattering all over Kirishima as he choked on his own laughter, “whatever you do to me, just keep in mind that they don’t need me.” 

Balugou knows that he should feel triumph at being able to get a villain in such a place, but no- he’s worried, worries that someone will die because there are so many more villains out there- because of his inability to save people.

All Might once said that he could only save the people that he could reach, but that doesn’t stop the clench in his stomach when he thinks about all the lives lost due to these stupid fucking villains.

”Bakugou,” he hears the whispered words from beside him, ”you need to stop thinking so much,” Kirishima’s eyes are littered with worry, because he isn’t stupid- he knows just what this whole thing means to Bakugou. 

He might be known for his destructive traits-hell, it was the reason he got kidnapped in the first place. But now, it wasn't about him. The League Of Villains was back, and if they weren't just here for them..

Everyone was in danger.

”Well, one of us has to think, ” he spits out, but there’s no venom lacing his words. He hears the villain chuckle, and his head whips around to stare at the little rat.

“Not so strong now, are you, Ground Zero? Reliving some memories?” God, he wants to rip that smirk right off that villain’s face, he wants to smash him against the sidewalk, to make him regret those words.

But he can’t; because he’s supposed to be a hero.

“Whatever, it’s not like I don’t have you  just where I need you,” Wiping away the blood from his mouth with a swipe of his tongue, the red contrasting with his plain silver skin. ”Kurogiri, now!” 

Shit.

Bakugou’s body worked on reflex, his arms coming to wrap around Kirishima’s as the other villain -the one that the police could never fucking catch stepped out of hiding, his yellow eyes narrowed as he started at the two upcoming heroes. Purple wisps of smoke, the kind Bakugou knew all too well, flared up from the man's body. 

He’s as slippery as an eel, and that’s only one of the reasons that Bakugou can’t stand him. It’s hard to get a read on Kurogiri, hard to figure out what game he’s playing.

He fucking hated this guy.

He hated that he’s like this- that his hatred stems from his fear.

He can’t believe that this is happening, that these stupid fucking villains are building themselves up once again. It isn’t that hard to be a good fucking person, so why go out of your goddamn way in order to be bad? 

Bakugou could never really understand such a concept, ‘being a villain’, such a reason is why he managed to escape from their clutches so long ago.

But now, they’re back, and Bakugou feels everything he’s ever come to know come crashing down on him.

But as fuckin ghastly over there takes a step toward him, His brain short-circuits, and in the moment, he wonders if this is what Kaminari feels like when he fries his brain. Everything is too close to him, compressing him on all four of his sides. He hated that other villains words, but they were true; his memories come rushing back through him, striking against every part of his body- of his mind. He can't move- he can't breathe.  He is frozen. This isn’t the controlled atmosphere of school, where Bakugou knows exactly what his opponent about to do. Instead, this fucker is just too damn close, and Bakugou can’t read the intent in those dark eyes.

Memories flash in his mind as he remembers- as he’s stunned by this feeling.

Why did I become the reason for All Might’s end? 

Was he moving? He didn't know.

His mind was in a daze, him constantly trying to collect his thoughts as he ran, almost as if he was scattering his memories more and more with each step he took. 

‘Useless, stupid, weak.’

They were all words he had gotten used to, more and more with each and every test that he had failed. He didn’t mean to be like this, but he was trying so hard- so hard to fit in, that everything else just seemed to be falling apart.

”Bakugou!” 

Shit, Kirishima. 

The other boys arms were wrapped around his abdomen, pulling him out of the way of Kurogiri’s blast. It wasn't exactly a blast, per say, but when Kurogiri extends his goddamn ghastly looking body, you know shit is about to go down.

”Fuck,” the words don't come out as rough as they had intended to be, only being more of a whisper amidst the blast. He feels rough arms carrying him, and goddamn, he just wants to be out down; he wants to fight, he wants to win. 

But he can’t.

As Kurogiri’s disembodied form caught up with them, the darkness that was his warp gate engulfing them in it's midst, Bakugou felt like he was falling- as if he had been swept off his feet within murky waters; as if he’s just dunked his head underwater, like he’s in the ocean and the current is pulling him under. He's drowning, too numb, too stunned to feel anything like horror or fear at what was going in. 

He was wrapped in the mist, the haze swirling about him in a mix of purples and blacks. He screamed, trying to find purchase on any of the sides, so he could pull himself up and out of it. There was none. He felt as though he was falling in an endless pit, him twisting and turning as he tried to find balance, but the unpredictability of the weight of gravity around him threw him off. He knew he was being warped somewhere, and he couldn’t help but scream in frustration. They had been so fucking close. 

”Eijirou!” he screamed, but he was met with silence.

The rough arms he felt wrapped around his back were no longer there; their comforting presence overtaken by the cold truth of reality.

He’s felt this before- too many times. He hated it- he hated the feeling of weightless- the feeling of falling. Bakugou had never liked heights- but it was different when he was blasting through the air, the wind whipping across his face as he pushed himself forward- the feeling of fire surging through his veins as he went higher and higher. He liked it because he was in control.

Now, as he’s falling into the unknown, he isn’t in control of anything.

He had warped into that of a forest area, the green assaulting his vision the moment he was able to pull himself away from the gas. 

And now, after running and fighting for his life, he was fucking pissed. 

-

”You’re unbreakable.”

-

How had everything gone to shit do quickly? 

One moment, they were heading out for their exam. Another, they were scattered, each of the students having to fight for their lives.

He gets his teeth, finding himself backed up against a tree as two villains size him up, their lumbering forms towering over him. 

One was that of a lady, flames erupting from her fists as she advances on him, her form tall by lithe. The other was a man, with a much larger form; his fists we're huge, but he didn't look like the kind of be fast.

If he hit him, though, he would be completely and utterly screwed.

He wants to move, but with each spike of pain that seemed to flare up at each and every one of his movements, he's not sure if he can as quickly as he might need to.  

Even if his injury made him liable to damage, he would take a hit for Bakugou as many times as it would take if it meant that the other would be safe. 

A fist comes swinging at his face, flames erupting from the fingertips of the woman in front of him, and Kirishima couldn’t help but curse.

If Kirishima didn’t spar with Bakugou so much, he would have had his face burnt off. Instead, he hardens up automatically and the palm glances off with barely a wince. He stumbles back, hardened skin sizzling as he stops himself from falling. The lady backs up, catching herself on a tree behind her, the bark sizzling under her touch. 

Fire and grass. This wasn’t good; he’s played enough pokemon to know that this matchup won’t work well. 

He’s stuck on the defensive, his wound making it hard for him to maneuver himself quick enough to stay on the offensive.

She launches herself at him, the other villain watching from the sidelines as she engulfs her fists in flames. He keeps catching her punches, but she’s so fast that he misses more and more as time goes on. He’s just about to duck back, to block and figure out some kind of strategy, when something hits him in the side fast enough to knock him back.

It’s the second villain, the one who he wasn’t watching. He can barely see a few feet in front of him, thanks to the smoke erupting from the female villains fists, so it doesn’t matter who he tries to watch. He can barely see any of the things around him, the thick foliage of the trees obscuring all kinds of light.

“Shit!” He says, stumbling. The woman takes advantage and sweeps his legs out from under him. He stumbles, but doesn’t fall- no, not yet; he can’t afford to.

He dug his feet in the ground to stabilize his landing, but his left leg couldn’t keep up. He was forced into a tumble, grasping and scraping at the ground in an effort to right himself. By the time he got back to his feet, the villain was above him. A flaming fist aimed down at him and ready to strike.

Shit

Kirishima braced for impact as the fist bared down on him. His knees wanted to buckle, but he held fast. Even as the grass was ripped away beneath him, he stood his ground.

The wind swirled and pulled at his body, but he didn’t budge. They weren’t going to break him. The blazing green eyes that stared into his weren’t going to beat him. His joints and muscles that complained in pain weren’t going to bring him down.

He yelled, pushing back against the lady’s blazing fists. He ran, using her moment of hesitation to launch himself at the other villain, a solid fist almost cutting into him as he struggled to dodge.  

The lady had been doing most of the work, so maybe this guy wasn’t so great at fighting?  

He can’t show mercy here, even if it pains him every time he’s forced to slam a hardened fist into the villains face, even when he’s forced to twist the villains arm out of it’s socket. 

He closed his eyes, and lets the second villain fall the ground in front of him.  

The ground is stained with red, and even if the color is his part of his hero name’s namesake, he can’t help but hate it in this moment. 

He doesn’t like being like this- in a life or death situation. He wants to protect, not kill.

An explosion crackles close- far too close, to his ear, and he pivots to dodge, arms hardened like blades ready to slice. 

Or maybe he was too slow. His whole body ached and throbbed. But, fuck it, he wasn’t weak. He would beat them and show him he’s not just some obstacle here for them to surpass.

Not when he had his friends- when he had Bakugou waiting for him on the other side. 

He skids back as the ladie’s fists collide with him, and he’s forced to grit his teeth at the recoil. His legs are shaking, his side aches, he can’t take much more. 

He lodged his fists into the ladies side, shutting his eyes to rid himself of the sight. He feels the blood rushing past his palms, sliding onto the grass below. 

He feels the villain, someone who seemed to be no more than a few years older than him, slump against his side, his first still embedded into her abdomen. 

He remembers a close call he he with Bakugou, and how he had gotten stabbed after a mission. It was horrible to witness; the panic of hearing that he was in intensive care, seeing the blood staining the bandages that were wrapped around his side in the hospital room. But Bakugou was okay, even if he still had the large scar across his stomach. They hadn’t let each other go in that moment, wrapped in each other’s arms until they were forced to let go by a doctor.

They had to get used to it, especially since being a hero pretty much guarantees getting hurt in some shape or form. 

He was shaking, he knew it, as he looked at the limp form of the villain in his arms. 

It shouldn’t have turned out like this- the exam; they shouldn’t have been separated like this- no one should have to go through this. 

And then, pain. Piercing, and burning, and worse than anything Eijirou had ever felt before, and he was no stranger to pain. His Quirk involved a lot of trial and error to be able to withstand as much damage as it could, but this..

He didn't even have the energy to scream. He just shuddered, and looked down with a gasp at where the knife was lodged deep in his abdomen, the jagged edges tearing at his side.

He turned his head, letting the fenable villain fall to the ground with a thump. The male villain grinned up at him from his place on the ground, skull cracked as he let out a deranged chuckle, his broken arm twisted and pulled out of his arm socket as it lay limp in the ground- from where he had thrown the knife. Kirishima could only watch as each weak chuckle from the villain became quieter and quieter, until the unsettling rattle of the other man’s chest was to be heard no more. The lady was still in front of him, leaning limply against him, Kirishima’s jagged fist still embedded into her flesh. He shuddered, pulling out his fist. His stomach heaved and contracted, the adrenaline in his veins wearing thin after the main battle was over.

 He closed his eyes, waiting for it all just to end; thinking that it this is it, that it ends here.

But no.

He’s in pain, yes- as shown by the literal katana sticking into his fucking side and oh my god there’s a fucking katana stuck in him and oh my god there’s blood and- 

He's fucking terrified. He’s scared of seeing his friends dying out there, while he's here, helpless, hurt, bleeding. He’s scared of seeing himself dying just because he kept breaking.

Red eyes flashed in his mind- full of fear and confusion as they were ripped away from each other. 

”Ejirou!”

He's terrified for Bkaugou. 

Fuck

He nearly choked as wave after wave of pain engulfs him, and Kirishima feels nothing but fear.

Falling to his knees, Kirishima closed his eyes, hands coming to a weak grasp at his wound as he curled in on himself. He felt the shallow breaths race through his chest, and he very well knew that that rattle within his lungs wasn’t a good thing.

Even as his eyes came to a close, the pain threatening to overtake him, all Kirishima could see was red; the color of his blood as it was scattered across the grass below him, the color of his hair, which was sprawled out underneath him like a crimson halo, the color of his eyes- even as his vision becomes hazier and hazier. The color of fire- of passion, of rage.

The color of him.

Fuck, if only he was here now.

Katsuki, you better be okay.

~

Just when everything seemed to be going great- when everything was going the way that it should, it all seemed to fall apart. 

He couldn’t leave him- there’s no fucking way that he would ever leave him.

Let’s just hope Kirishima is able to do the same.

Bakugou ran- for for both his life and Kirishima’s. Clutching Kirishima to his chest with one hand, he ignored the villains shouts of disdain as he launched himself the hell out of there- ignoring the burn in his wrists as he overexerted his quirk. He hated how still Kirishima was- how his head seemed to loll and jolt with each movement. 

He was cold. 

Fuck, he didn’t even know why he was so worried- why he was racing out of there, heart racing, breathing harried, with a bleeding Kirishima clutched to his chest. 

Because Kirishima is dying.

The thought hit him like a truck, knocking the breath out of him and shaking every bone in his body all at once.

Kirishima is going to fucking die if you don’t do something

He runs- faster, faster. His vision tunneled, and through the black spots dancing across his eyes, he sees red- the red of the fire around him, the blood traveling down his forehead, his anger. He has to keep going. 

Bakugou has the thank the villains for how slow they were. They were big, sure, but in this small fuckin forest, it was hard to travel.

Fuck outta here with that, ”bigger is better ;)” shit. 

Right, left, his eyes scan his surroundings, searching for some part- any opening within the dense folaoge- anywhere where they could just hide. 

Shit, Bakugou grits his teeth, skidding to a stop as he sees nothing but green around him. He shifts his arms, ignoring how much they burned, and pulled Kirishima closer to his chest, cradling the other boy’s head against the crook of his neck. He tried to ignore he trickle of blood that ran down his arms- tried to ignore the fact that there was a shit ton of blood and holy shit that isn't good-

He had to hurry. 

Scanning through the dense foliage, he spotted it. 

There

In between the branches of a rather large pine tree, lay an opening. It was small, sure, but it would have do. 

And with the sound of rustling branches behind him, they needed to go. Now. 

He darted into the opening, sure to drag some branches over the small entrance.  It was really shitty, but it would have to do. 

God, he hated retreating. He was fucking F-bomb! He was known for rushing in, known for his explosive entrances! 

But, he can't afford to just rush in when there are lives at stake.

He sighed, slumping down next to Kirishima. He hated running away like that, but he could never just.. Fight when Kirishima was like this. 

He looks over at Kirishima, trying his best to ignore the katana that was sticking out of his side. He couldn’t pull it out- that would only worsen the blood flow. It wasn’t as if he could cauterize the wound shut either- as his explosions would do more harm than good.

There’s still color in Kirishima’s face, and Bakugou knows that it isn’t over yet. 

He growls, taking his hands and placing them around the end he of the wound. He tries to ignore the blood that bubbles past his fingers- the blood that seems to stain the ground red around them, even as 

He grits his teeth, focusing on kirishimas face- his lips were parted, brow furrowed in pain as he heaved, his chest rattling with every attempt at breath. 

It wasn't fair- it wasn't fair how someone so happy, so kind, so good could end up like this. 

This was all so fucked. 

“Fuck,” he chokes out, pressing down a little harder on the wound.

It should have been him- the one out there, dying like a martyr for his cause. 

He might be young, but he's ready to die, accepting of it, really. 

He’d rather it be him than Kirishima. 

“‘atsuki?” The slurred words broke him out of his daze, the other boys eyes slits as they opened. Bakugou is all too aware of the blood that’s sleeping through the fabric of his shirt- all too aware of the pain in Kirishima’s eyes as he forces the words out, his voice in a pained rasp, his entire torso is dyed in red.

This was more blood than Katsuki knew how to deal with, than should even be possible. 

Fuck, he might be a hero, but he’d never be ready for this.

“How’s it looking?” The words are forced- pained, as Kirishima looks up a him, face pale as he looks at the blood spattered across Bakugou's hands.

He's being pulled in two, because doesn’t want this- any of it, but he doesn’t want to lie. 

As he took the other boys hand in his own, he smiled back, trying his best to ignore the cold that was numbing him from the inside out; he smiled, trying to convince himself that this, too, wouldn't come to an end. So many promises he had made had been broken, no matter how hard he tried to stop it. Fear slams him down, and in an instant he finds himself standing on the edge—one wrong step, and he’ll pitch forward and fall. He feels nothing more than cold dread, wrapped tight around his throat like a noose of barbed wire.

He doesn't want this- any of this. He doesn't want the things he's worked so hard to achieve, his friends, his comrades, his relationship with Kirishima to end.

He feels the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, and fuck- he doesn't want to cry- he shouldn't have to cry, because Ejirou was supposed to be safe- supposed to be fighting with him. 

He shouldn't be like this. 

“Hey, don’t cry,” Kirishima whispers, his face pale as he struggles to smile, “it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not fucking okay, Ejirou!” He hates the way his voice cracks- he hates all of this; he hated seeing his best friend- his boyfriend bleeding out there in front of him, the other boy’s skin pale and devoid of its normal rosy color. He pushes fanatically down on the wound, trying his best to ignore the sickening amount of red that rushes through his fingers, spilling out onto the ground below. Even with the warmth seeping through his hands, Kirishima seems cold, dull- not the normal bundle of color that he usually is. 

Fuck, he’s seen the movies like these- where someone is bleeding out, reassuring the other person that it's okay, that they live them. He always found those deaths rather cliche and unoriginal, because it really wasn't that hard to call 911 and get some help up in that bitch. 

But now, clutching Kirishima’s hand in his own, he realized that this wasn't anything like the movies- this was reality. 

“You have to live, right? You have to get up and live so we can become pro heroes together,” the smile on Kirishimas face flickers just a bit, his lips pulling into a wider smile, but Bakugou knew that he was fading away, “We would be a team: Red Riot and F-Bomb,” he knows that he’s rambling at this point, but he’s scrabbling to fill the silence- to distract themselves from the fact that help wasn’t here yet- and that the battle is still going on around them.

“Remember the promise we made 2 years ago? About you promising to be okay?” He remembers the promise, the one that came along with the nightmares. 

Resting his chin on Bakugou’s head, Kirishima had answered, an eye cracked open as he watched Bakugou shift from under the blankets. 

”Promise me that you'll be okay.”

His words had been quiet, whispered, hesitant, and Bakugou knew that he wasn't acting like himself but he meant it. He fucking cared. He hated that he did, but that doesn't change the fact. He huffs, burying his face into the crook of Kirishima’s neck. He felt Kirishima’s jaw shift, as if he was about to say more. Ignoring his want to ask more and follow his desire to just bask in the sound of Kirishima’s voice, he stayed silence, squeezing the other boys hand, just hoping for once that Kirishima could understand him through his silence, fearing that if he spoke once more- he would break. 

So much for being strong, huh?Kirishima sighed, nestling his face into Bakugou’s hair. 

“I can’t promise that I’ll be careful. But I promise to be here for you, bro.” Bakugou didn't respond to that, but he relaxed into his hold, lessening the hold on his hand nothing more than a light, warm pressure. 

It was good enough.

But now, he couldn't just drift off to sleep like he had done all those years ago, Ejirou’s arms around him as he poured out his heart not the other boy. 

Kirishima’s eyes fluttered, as if to welcome the thought of sleep, the red of his pupils threatening to roll back up into his head as his eyelids drooped. 

No matter how fucked their first year had been, he had always had Kirishima to rely on.

Now, he might not even have that.

“Whatever you do, don’t close your eyes!” He yells, cradling Kirishima’s hand in his, “I swear to god, Eijirou, don’t close your fucking eyes!”

Kirishima’s eyes, which had been closing, snapped open, red coming to meet red once again. 

He feels Kirishima freeze in his arms, and, besides the flow of blood underneath him, he doesn't move. 

Red eyes meet red for a solid moment, and all is silent. The rush of blood in his ears is no more as he finds himself trapped in those red eyes of Kirishima’s, the red burning like coals, but he doesn’t mind how much it burns.

”Have I ever told you that you have pretty eyes?” Kirishima mutters, his own hand coming to rest on Bakugou’s face. Bakugou tries to ignore the feeling of blood as it comes off of Kirishima’s hand, rubbing off on his cheek.

He grits his teeth, ”No, you haven't. But you better say it again tomorrow,” Kirishima smiles weakly, but pain flickers across his face, and Bakugou feel Kirishima’s stomach contracting underneath his hands.

“Hey, Katsuki,” Kirishima muttered, eyes blank as he struggled to look at Bakugou’s face without closing his eyes, “remember what they said about soulmates?” 

~

He remembered.

He remembered the way his parent’s eyes lit up as they retold the story of their meeting, how the first few words that his mother had said to his father (in a rather agressive, flirty way) had brought color spiraling into their lives.

He remembers learning about how soulmates were tied to one another- how that, since they were responsible for lighting up the others life, they were tied, connected- bound. 

It was similar to the red string of fate- a string that determined star crossed lovers, but at what cost? 

He learned of hatred, of those who decided to not follow the path their marks set for them. He learned of deceit, how those would cheat on their significant other, even if they were soulmates. He learned of a world devoid of colour, and how your world would fade to monochrome once again if your soulmate were to die, and how that colour would never return.

He learned of a world without soulmates, and how lonely it would be.

~

They’re only five years old the first time he goes too far. It’s the day after he had fallen into the stream. He remember Midoriya- Deku looking down on him, offering his hand as if someone as awesome as him- Katsuki Bakugo needed help from god damn markless loser. He was a prodigy, a legend. 

He wasn't going to let anyone look down in him.

That's why today was no different.

”Bakugou, stop it!” 

Ah, those words never got old.

The sun was shining down on them, the golden rays casting light across the darkened playground. School had just ended, so the little playground they were in was currently isolated except for them.

Bakugou was livid. 

”Shut it, Deku! Who do you think you are?” Katsuki yelled, startling Izuku. He looks at the paint smudged across Midoriyas wrist, similar to his own. 

It didn’t take a genius to know that it was the color red.

It filled him with rage.

Deku was always beneath him, but the one thing he had over him was that he recognized his weaknesses. Recognized them, and looked down on him - with an outstretched hand. Exposing them for everyone to see, making him look weak. He loved to make him look weak in order to make himself look better. Holding it over his head and taunting him.

”Please stop, Kacchan!”

Ugh, that nickname- he hated it. 

Izuku was obviously trying to hold back his tears, but failed miserably. The other boy was frantically trying to pull his grip out of Bakugou’s, the sleeve of his shirt beginning to tear at the sheer desperation of his actions.

But Bakugou kept his grip.

He felt strong, knowing that he had something another could only dream of- he felt strong, knowing that it was he who was in control of his actions, something that very few could say that they had- control; a fickle thing.

He didn’t know why he did this, maybe it was because of the strength flowing through his veins as he found a reason to activate his quirk, maybe it was the anger, the kind that he pent up inside until he had no choice but to let it out.

And with Midoriya’s- Deku’s infirtiating face, his infuriating actions- his kindness, his hope, he couldn’t help but let loose.

He laughed, sparks erupting from the palms of his hands. 

”Stop? I'm just getting started!”

Bringing his hand down, and, for one of the first times in his life Bakugou felt in control. 

~

But now, that all changed.

He learned of love- through smiles, through the happiness that filled his heart whenever he heard it the laugh that he has grown accustomed to, through the smiles that were bright enough to fill the whole room, through the looks- the ones that just proved that Kirishima was his. 

He knew he didn't deserve it- any of it. 

If only he could begin to be half of what Kirishima thought of him- if only he learned how to love. 

Being in love and falling in love are two completely different things

Falling in love is a journey, be it a fast one or a small one. Falling in love is when you get a feel for the person, wondering if maybe, just maybe, you can see yourself spending the rest of your life with them- if you can imagine a future with the two of you. Falling in love is all about shy looks, blushing cheeks, and a shyness that stops you from just acting on your feelings. Being in love is about the feeling in your chest, the one strong strong, the one that connects you to that other person- the one that makes you want to risk your life to them, or to just be with them to the end.

Falling in love is a journey

Being in love is a war

There was a wavering chuckle as Kirishima craned his neck to look up at Bakugou. He sees the fire in his eyes, raging on within him. Kirishima’s fighting- but not for a battle, or a war.

He’s fighting for his life- for him.

“Well,” Kirishima said,turning his wrist towards him, “I’m glad you’re mine.” The words were heavy, full of meaning, and Bakugou let out a shaky breath as he intertwined his hand, the one with the mark just below it, with Kirishima’s.

The Red streak on his wrist seemed to have faded, the blood spatters outshining the now pale crimson. 

“Katsuki,” he whispers, drooping red eyes staring into his own, “I love you.”

He's heard those words so many times, but never have they made his heart pang the way they did now- never had they made his eyes sting at the sheer emptiness- the loss behind the words .

There’s a wetness sliding down his cheeks, but he can’t bring himself to wipe away his tears. “You idiot,” he chided, voice cracking, ”stop saying things that make me want to kiss you.”  Kirishima reached out with bloody hands. Resting his shaking palm on his cheek, he smiled, and Bakugou tried to focus on this- on them being together, like this.

Pressing his lips to Kirishima’s, his lips are rough and insistent against Kirishima’s, and Kirishima’s kiss is desperate and thorough.

Don’t let this be the last time, he thinks- he hopes. Please don’t let this be the last time we’re together- like this.

He remembers the happy times, the times where they hung out, where they studied, where they were just there for each other, showing their affections through fleeting looks, smiles, and goddamn, Kirishima was a good kisser.

He remembers the sad times- the times where they were quick to run to each others rooms if they 

The way they all came together after a particularly close call, them holding on to one another as they sat there, silently, neither of them wanting to be the first to let go in fear that if they do- they'll lose the other forever. 

The kiss was a desperate one, but it was short lived. As Bakugou pulled away, hand still cupping Kirishimas cheek,  He hears the crackle of the foliage around them as the villains advance on them. They didn’t have much time left.

He grits his teeth, and looks down toward Kirishima. The redhead nods, knowing what he was about to do. God, Kirishima hated being on the sidelines, but he was numb, as if he was walking through water, the current pulling him down, down, down.

He can’t get up- he can’t breathe.

“You better still be here when I get back.” He places Kirishima’s hands over the wound, trying his best to ignore the way that they seem to have gone limp. The blood flow had begun to lessen, ans Bakugou didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing, seeing the grass underneath them dyed red, “Put pressure on it.” Watching Kirishima’s weak nod, Bakugou wants to scream. He doesn’t want to leave, but they’re both going to fucking die if he doesn’t do something.

He stood up, giving Kirishima’s hand a squeeze before letting go, turning to face the villains that had found them.  

Kicking aside the shitty barrier he set up, he blasted himself out of the den, eyes narrowed. 

There was no way in hell that he’d ever let anyone touch Kirishima- not when he was there to stop them.

There were five of them, all of which with big size. As for quirks, Bakugou didn't know, but he wasn't going to let them get to Kirishima. 

In his years at U.A, Bakugou learned how to use his quirk for the better, meaning he learned how to dial it down when it came down to fighting other people- including villains. 

Killing was forbidden, as told to him by numerous pro heroes. But, remembering Aizawa’s message from long ago, from when they were first attacked at the camp- when he was kidnapped, he grinned.  

”Class 1-A and 1-B, you are permitted to fight.” 

 None of non-lethal shit applied here. 

He smacked a clenched fist against the open palm of his hand. Even with uncertainty of it all, there was one thing that Bakugou knew,

He was fucking pissed.

”Alright, so which one of you shitheads want to try me first?” He growled out, fire crackling in the palms of his hands. He stepped forward, never backing down even as all the villains, all of which bigger than he, step forward as well. 

“Wasn’t  there two of you?” One of the villains rasps out, his buggy eyes wide and scanning as he surveyed the area around them all. Bakugou growled, not liking the way that the other villain was getting closer and closer to finding his hiding spot. He couldn’t let that happen. Oh hell no.

“I don’t know, jackass, you want to find out?” He spat, fists beginning to burn with the need of release. He didn’t give the villain a chance to respond. Bakugou charged with a scream, uncaring of the spit covering his lips. He shot forward using his explosions and adjusted the trajectory to spin himself vertically, driving his heels down toward the villains below him.

He pushed his arm forward, ignoring the crackle of fire in his first as he slammed it into one of the bigger villains face. He didn’t hear the other man’s cry of pain, not did he care-  his heart was too busy pounding in his ears, the rapid fire beats ricocheting off of his internal walls. Not now wasn't the time to break. He had to fight. 

Like Kirishima, he had to be unbreakable. 

A ragged scream escaping his lips, adrenaline pumping through his veins, Bakugou exploded.

The villains barely had time to react. Gathering his remaining power, he went loose, shooting everything and everyone in his area. He ducked under at fist that always swung at him, using the villains momentum to find him flying with a well timed explosion. One down. 

They were strong, sure, but what they had in strength, they lacked in experience. 

Oh, it’s on.

There was 4 left, two of which looking like they were about to shit themselves. Bakugou don’t blame them- he would be scared too if he had to fight against himself.

He ignored the way the word “villain” flashes through his mind; this wasn’t the time for self pity.

He had to end this shit quick, so he could get back to Kirishima.

“Which one of you shitheads wants to try me next?” 

He sees the fear in his eyes, but he’s livid- no, he’s not taking this shit today. He is 17 years old-he’s supposed to be a kid, supposed to be happy with his friends(2 years ago, Bakugou would never have said such a thing- ‘friends’). But now, he’s falling apart, and it’s all the fucking League of Villains fault. 

The only thing to do is to gather it all in the cups of his palms- his anger, his frustration, and using it to launch himself in the air with consecutive explosions, each blast carefully aimed until he's spinning in the air, momentum and rotation pushing him faster and faster towards them, the blasts he had come to master an unstoppable force gathering steam to face an immovable object. When he launches his attack his scream is near feral, the full force of his power testing both the villains limit and his own.

He sees nothing but red, the color of the flames erupting from his hands, the color of the blood that’s dripping down his arms, mingling with the explosions and splattering across the floor, the color of the spots dancing across his vision from the sheer amount of pain that he’s in. He’s overdoing it, he knows it, but he’s Bakugou fucking Katsuki, he’s not going to pussy out of a fight just because his hands hurt. 

Bakugou shot out explosion after explosion, feeling the recoil rock up his arms and neck. He screamed, releasing the suffocating tension that had built up inside his throat.

He doesn't care- he doesn't fucking care about who or what he hits. He just wants to attack something, to let the anger thats been building up inside him ever since he was 4 years old. 

He feels his arm crack, but he doesn’t care; there’s adrenaline pumping through his veins, too much, too much; and with each and every punch that he lands, he feels stronger- unbeatable. He is victory, and where there is victory, there is strength. He grits his teeth as a fist comes flying out through the billowing smoke, hurtling towards him, but he leaps out of the way, using his right arm to blast another explosion in the direction the fist came from. Jeez, these quirks keep getting weirder and weirder. 

But at least he’s doing something right, though he can’t see the villains through the flames caused by his quirk, he can tell that they’re putting up less of a fight than before. He’s downed at least 2, he hopes, because even though he feels the adrenaline pumping through his veins, he’s weakening; numb. his arms burn, his throat is raw- he’s opening his jaws in a silent scream, his fingers twitching as he pours out his heart into this battle.

League of Villusions his ass. 

He’s rising over these dying flames, and the fucking smoke better carry his name.

He’s on ground zero- his domain. 

His explosions- his heart, pounds in his ears, rapid fire richocheting off the corners of his mind. Bang, bang, bang. 

There’s no movement in the smoke, the billowing grey shrouding all in shadow- the darkness floating into the sky above. 

It shouldn’t be so pretty- but as the setting sun bathes the world in a mixture of red and black, Bakugou can’t help but be reminded of him.

He lowers his hands, panting. He doesn’t know what he’s done, nor does he know if this battle is over yet. But it’s silent, too silent. 

He hates it.

The smoke clears, revealing all here was to see. 5 charred forms lay in the center of the now burnt clearing. They were totally fucked, yes, but they were alive, as shown by the faint rise and fall of their chests.

Huh, so much for an actual battle.

Not sparing another glance at the 5 downed villains behind him, Bakugou staggered back to he and Kirishima’s hiding place, holding his limp arm close to his body with his other, barely functioning arm. He feels the trickle of blood from his temple, but he can't bring himself to care. Forward, forward, that's all he has to look to. He sees red, the red of the blood spattered around him, the red flowing into his eyes, the color of the setting sun

He sees Kirishima. 

He pushes away the foliage, narrowing his eyes as a burnt branch nearly smacks him in the face. He didn’t realize that his explosions had reached this far, nor did he care, for all he had eyes for was Kirishima.

Red stained the grass under a motionless body, crimson hair spread out like a halo under a still head. 

There was something wrong.

”Yo- Kiri,”

He fell to his knees, hands shaking as he pulled the motionless body towards his chest. Kirishima was still, dark lashes laying still over his pale (oh too pale) cheeks. A thin line of blood dribbled past his lips, trailing down his chin and onto the ground below. There was no rise and fall of the other boys chest- no rattle of breath as Kirishima breathed. 

Kirishima was still- he was lifeless.

”Shitty hair,” he whispered, choking on the words as he smoothed the hair out of Kirishima’s face. “Wake up,” There was no movement- no flutter of lashes as Kirishima opened his eyes, no tug of his lips as he smiled, no movement from his chest as he breathed- he should be breathing.

“I said wake up!“ He shook the other boys shoulders, throat threatening to close in when there was no response other than the limp roll of his head.

He felt the dread rise within him, and Bakugou wanted nothing more than to throw up, feeling the blood on him more acutely than he had before. He raised a hand to his face, hand covering his mouth in shock. 

He tasted metal on his tongue as his gloves met his parted lips. Red eyes darted downward towards his hand, and seeing the red littered across it, as well as him feeling the sticky, thick fluid of blood run down his chin, Bakugou broke.

He retched, stumbling backwards as he threw up the contents of the meal that he had made earlier- one that he and Kirishima had shared. 

Oh my god, everything had done to shit so quickly. 

”You promised you'd be okay,” he yelled, feeling the tears slide down his heels and onto kirishimas, ”you fucking lied, and you know how I feel about liars, Ejirou. I fucking hate them!” He thinks back to all the times he’s been lied to, from the times when he was young- when everyone told him that he was the best, a prodigy, he thought of how Deku had hidden his quirk from him- how he had gotten his quirk from the late All Might. God, he wished that his previous teacher was here. He’d still be smiling, even through all this shit- he’d be here. He thought of all the nonchalant promises that he had made, he it to smile more (for Kirishima), he to be happier, for him to just embrace himself for who he is.

He had become the person he had become today because of Kirishima. 

”But I could never hate you, you fucking idiot.” 

But now, he watched, he watched as all the colours he came to know faded into the monochromatic haze that he hadn't seen in so long.

It was at that moment, Kirishima bleeding out in his arms, the reds and Scarlets-two colors he had come to love- fading to a soft silver, that Katsuki Decided that red would never, ever, be his favorite color without Ejirou

Chapter Text

  “Hey, remember what they told us about soulmates?”

 It was dark when help had found them. 

-

“F-Bomb!” 

No, fuck, it couldn't be over. 

Not like this

It was pitch black – the trees thick and dense with barely any space for the light of the moon overhead. but Bakugou didn’t have time to focus on its beauty.

Not when Kirishima was like this.

Red and blue lights flash in the distance, and he’s stumbling towards them, cursing as he trips over roots. He hopes that the lights don't attract more goddamn villains, because he has enough on his plate already.

 His arms burn, and he can feel the way his muscles were twitching, wanting to cramp up- needing a rest. He draws in a breath, shaky, ragged, as he carries on, adrenaline  overtaking the pain that seemed to be flowing through his veins.

He’s strangely calm- the kind where his mind is foggy, yet he knows what he needs to do. But he feels the terror, clawing up and locking around his throat like a noose of barbed wire. 

This was his kind of the ‘calm before the storm’.

Well, as ‘calm’ as he, Bakugou Katsuki, the resident hardass of 3-A, could ever be.

It isn’t anything out of one of those movies, where the hero emerges victorious, the stunning girl held in his arms, her arms wound tightly around his neck as he carries her to safety. 

It isn’t anything fucking like that.

He feels the dead weight in his arms, and shit, he doesn't want to think about it, doesn't want to think about how they should both be laughing about how they both took down all those villains, how they both would become proheroes, how they would both be alive together.

The lights had grown closer, and he remembers stumbling out of the foliage, Kirishima’s body jolting as he moves. He curses as his foot catches on some bush, anger bubbling beneath his skin as he shoved the unfortunate piece of shit to the side as he struggles to get free.

 He isn’t quiet about his entrances- then again, he’s never been. He was F-bomb, the explosion hero. No- he was Bakugou fucking Katsuki, the boy with the explosive personality and fire in his eyes.

But this time, it wasn’t one of those ‘I Am Here’ entrances, the one where he had that terrifying grin on his face- the kind that All Might had always seemed to show without faltering.

 No, it wasn’t anything like that- not this time.

“Get the hell over here!”

And like that, the spell seemed to have broken. 

His throat burned as he screamed out the words, thrusting the body in his arms forward as he broke out in a run. His arms screamed in protest, his muscles already aching from overusing his quirk. But no, he couldn’t falter; he didn’t have time to make any more fucking mistakes.

Paramedics raced toward him, not batting an eye about his ragged state, instead focusing on the body in his arms. It happened so fast; the flashing lights, the noise, the lack of color.

 Everything was grey.  

There’s a sea of police officers and paramedics, but he’s used to it. He doesn’t flinch as he sees the medics turning his way, doesn’t move as he watches their eyes trail down to the body in his arms.

He doesn’t do anything.

Fuck, why can’t he do something? Why can’t he help his own fucking boyfriend? Why can’t he will himself to even think about the situation? 

He’s reminded of that nightmare he had so long ago, the one that caused Kirishima to storm into his room in a panic. The dream where All Might died in the All for One fight, the one where Kirishima died for him because he couldn’t fucking move.

Heh, maybe sometimes dreams do reflect on reality.

He snaps out of it when an all too familiar voice rings out from the crowd, crawling through the white noise scattering about his mind.

”Kirishima!” Mina screamed, shoving police officers out of her way as she frantically tried to get to her friend. Her hands and face were bandaged, blood seeping through the thick that was layered across her torso. 

But, knowing her, Bakugou knows that, whether she’s injured or not, she’d fight tooth and nail to get to her friend.

Police officers shied away from her fists, attempting to calm her down as she watched her friend get carried away. He was pretty sure someone got hit in the face, but she didn’t stop- wouldn’t stop, not when her friend was injured.

Not when Kirishima was dead.

There was static.

”Mina!” The words were muted, near silent, as he heard the cry.

He watched as two strong arms grabbed Ashido around the waist, and suddenly, Sero was there, gently pulling her back and away from the bloody sight that was Kirishima. 

He hadn’t seen him before and, by the look on Mina’s face, neither did she. They had been partners, had they not? Shouldn’t they have been together the whole time? He saw the terror in Sero eyes- but he knew that, as important as it was to calm Ashido down, he was scared for Kirishima- his friend as well.

It was chaos.

Through the white noise in his ears, Bakugou could hear her screams.

 Even with the scene being caused by his friends, the paramedics did their thing. Kirishima was quickly taken out of his arms, his body being put onto a stretcher and being swarmed around by paramedics before he could even blink. 

He’s been in situations like this before, being swarmed by medics after a particularly rough fight, having to sit by and wait as victims were checked over. But goddamn, he never realized that this shit could happen so fast.

 The words, “Code blue”, registered into his mind, and he’s been in the hospital enough to realize just what it means.  

Code Blue: A hospital code used to indicate a patient that requires immediate resuscitation.

He wondered if Recovery Girl was there- if his teachers were there. 

He wondered if everyone else is okay.

He's in shock, he knows it- especially since he’s beginning to care about the others. Him? Caring? More likely than you think. Even so, he can't will himself out of the confines of his mind.

Without the body in his arms- without Kirishima, he felt cold. 

Kirishima had always been his warmth, bringing light and color into his life from the very first moment he saw him. For fucks sake, the dude was the epitome of the sun, always blindingly bright with his cheerfulness and smile. 

But now, everything was dull. The trees around him were a pale grey, the sky above him was a deep black, the formerly red and blue lights had faded to a grainy kind of white. 

His world had already been thrown into chaos.

He stood there, in the same place as where they had taken Kirishima from his arms, unmoving, silent, numb. But no one spoke to him- he was fine- fine compared to the injuries the others seemed to have suffered. Why the fuck was he fine? Why the fuck was he okay when everyone else over there was injured? When they were fucking dead? Why wasn’t he strong enough for this? For any of this?

He wanted to scream, wanted to curl up in a ball and fucking give up.

“Bakugou,” He barely registers the lack of the use of his hero name, barely registers the identity of the person in front of him. But he's all too aware of the hand placed on his shoulder, the first touch he’s felt since he bled out in his arms. He knows who it is. He knows damn well who it is. But, honestly, he couldn’t find it in himself to fight. 

He shrugs the hand off his shoulder, his eyes still focused on the blood on his gloves.

 He didn’t know what happened to his gauntlets. Maybe they were back in the clearing. Maybe he had thrown them to the side when he was walking over here. Maybe someone took them off him. Who fucking knows.

 His arms were a bloody mess, pun not intended. His gloves were covered in blood, sweat, and dirt, a really gross combination. His arms were twitching, his muscles finally cramping up as the adrenaline he had felt while fighting began to rush out of his system. His chest heaved, and his whole world was spinning.

Even with the way he seemed to be choking on the clean air, he was quiet. 

 In other words, Kacchan was quiet.

 Midoriya sighed, putting his non bandaged arm back on Bakugou’s shoulder “Come on. You need to be checked over too.” 

 Fucking Deku. He never minded- never batted an eyelash even when he was awful to him.  He never stopped trying to be his friend even after being exploded time and time again. He never stopped.

 Maybe that’s what made him such a good hero.

 Now here he was, once again, offering to help even when Bakugou didn’t even bother to acknowledge his presence.

He didn’t complain- he couldn’t find it in himself to complain after all that happened. What the fuck just happened? How did it all happen so fast? 

He’s walking, and he feels Midoriya’s- his friend’s hand on his shoulder as he leads him toward an ambulance.

The lights from the ambulances kept flashing, and fuck, Bakugou wants it all to stop, wants the world to not be so bright and flashy when he’s forced to see the beauty within these dull, monochromatic hues.

He hears the voices around him, the chatter that reminded him of nails scraping on a chalkboard, but Bakugou isn’t looking, eyes screwed shut in order to block out the fact that everything is so dull and that that could only mean one thing-

“We need a medic!”

He opens his eyes, only to see more of his classmates being treated by the medics. A lot of them seemed to have been transported here, apparently, as, in the sea of white paramedic clothes, he sees the flashy hero costumes that he had come to know over the years.

Aoyama looks beat, armor cast to the side as he stood near Satou, who wasn’t in his ‘Sugarman’ form. Those two had been paired up, but by the way that they had very different injuries (burns for Aoyama, scratches for Satou) it seems as those they had been separated as well. 

Ojiro and Tsuyu looked relatively unharmed, each of which sporting minor bandages. Next to them, Yaoyorozu(who he still calls ponytail) was being checked over by a medic for a nasty looking cut on her back.

He let Midoriya drag him along as he absentmindedly searched for familiar faces. Sonic? Yeah, he’s there by the police car. Bird-brain? Sitting by Tentacles (or, tentai.) Invisichick? He wasn’t exactly sure, but there was a pair of floating gloves next to grape fucker, and he was pretty sure that, though his mind was foggy, he wasn’t fucking crazy enough to imagine that.

There were a few people missing, one of which was a person who made his blood boil with every snide remark. And, judging by the look on Midoriya’s face, his absence couldn’t mean anything good.

“Where’s Half-And-Half?” His voice is rough, and those are probably the first words he’s really said since he made his way into this goddamn clearing.

“He was taken in a while ago,” Midoriya’s voice is quiet, drowned out by the sirens. Huh, when had those been on? What he could only think of red and blue had been drowned out into grey, and shit man, he really did hate this.

“...He’ll power through.” 

 He sees Midoriya‘s worried eyes regain a little bit of their normal, hopeful color. He looks down at Bakugou, lips curved upwards into a smile. 

 If he had been a little more aware, had he not turned his head away and refused to look at the any boy other longer, maybe he would’ve seen the pride in his eyes.

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about him.” 

Bakugou could only offer a half hearted scoff in reply, eyes focused on the ground below him. Was his vision faltering, or was that the mixture of blacks and whites he still had to get accustomed to seeing. Was it the ambulance lights that seemed to float across his vision? Was it the head trauma? His exhaustion? Wait- no- he was F-Bomb; he didn’t get tired or hurt or anything-

 The adrenaline was rushing out of his veins, and he only snapped to attention when Midoriya grabbed him suddenly as he teetered forward, pulling him upright.

 He growled, slapping Midoriya’s hand away at first. He could do this himself. He fucking could and has to. He’s made it this far, hasn't he? His legs falter, tugged down by the weight of the world resting on his shoulder because shit, he’s made it this far, but what about Kirishima?

“Come on,” Midoriya rested Bakugou’s arm around his shoulders, “let’s get you some help,” Bakugou could barely hear the next words, whispered and worried, “Kacchan.”

-

It isn’t long until Midoriya handed him off to the available paramedics, who quickly force him into a stretcher, ignoring his “I’ll kill you” comments. 

The medics do their normal ‘medic’ shit (Bakugou never usually paid attention to what they did; fighting was his business, not medicine). 

In this situation, Kaminari would probably say some stupid shit like ‘I need healing,’(he hates that he knows him so well). He really wouldn’t be surprised if he had.

Huh, where was pikachu anyway? 

Half minded thoughts ricochet through his mind as he’s forced to take off his gloves.

 He could only watch as Midoriya’s intercepted by Ochako, who had thick bandages across her stomach. She says something, hand gesturing towards the car Iida was leaning up against.

He could only watch as he, himself, was scanned over, the doctors frowning in worry at the blood that was littered across his skin and costume.

”’s not mine, ” he whispered, or maybe he didn't. It was all a blur. Bandages were slapped into his arms in record speed, and he wonders if recovery girl was there. She’d be able to heal everyone, right? Can she bring people back from the dead? Is that even a thing?

He didn’t even want to think about it.

Turns out some of the blood was his, and that the majority of the muscles in his arms had burst due to overexertion of his quirk(Shit, that makes him no better than Deku).

There’s a darkness crawling at the edges of his vision, and he feels the burning within his arms each and every time he’s being moved around or checked over; the adrenaline within his veins has run out.

He only watched as they insert Iv into his arms, only watched as the doctors discussed his condition, only watched as his classmates formed their own little groups, each and every one of them having emerged from the wooded area with some kind of injury.

He couldn’t see Kirishima, couldn’t see how the doctors were struggling to get his heart started again, couldn’t hear the desloate, beeping of the heart monitor they had hooked him up to.

He didn’t want to see, but shit, he at least wanted to be by his side.

His world was grey- and shit, he’s trying to remember the colors- the soft shade o fblue that was the sky, the yellow color of the sun, the orange shade of sunset- the color of his eyes- the stunning, soft shade of red that seemed to light up whenever he was speaking. But each and everything that popped into his mind was faded, dark. He tried to to remember, but he was faltering, chasing after the shadows on something long past.

He’s tired, but trying.

But, in the instant when he closed his eyes, the darkness took over, swallowing him whole.

He sleeps.

- 

Static  

 Blinding light sears into his vision and the only thing Bakugou can think is that he was certain he wasn’t dead. Red eyes flutter open, narrowed and blurry, as he takes in the room around him.

The walls were white, blindingly so- the pale colours washing out everything else within the room, leaving no speck of darkness or shadow anywhere.

He doesn’t remember getting there. The fuck? Wasn’t he in that clearing? Wasn’t it dark out? 

 How long had he been out?

“What the fuck?” 

 The room smells vaguely of antiseptic, as if the scent itself has seeped into the walls, fading over time- but still very much there. 

This was nothing like any hospital he had been in before. He woke up, but there was no bed in the room, no windows, no table, no tv. The only thing showing that there was more to this stupid room was the singular, black door placed on the furthest wall, as if taunting him, telling him to come closer.

Honestly, it was hella unnerving.

 He sat up from his place on the floor, wincing as his muscles aches with protest. Oh yeah, that happened. 

-

”Shitty hair,” he whispered, choking on the words as he smoothed the hair out of Kirishima’s face. “Wake up,” There was no movement- no flutter of lashes as Kirishima opened his eyes, no tug of his lips as he smiled, no movement from his chest as he breathed- he should be breathing.

“I said wake up!“ He shook the other boys shoulders, throat threatening to close in when there was no response other than the limp roll of his head.

“You said you’d be okay!”

-

Kirishima.

He looks down at his clenched fists, trembling with exhaustion and frustration as he tried to force himself to move. His joints had some sort of ache, like a phantom pain; remnants of what should be there. But, for someone so ‘battle worn’ (as he calls it. He hates being called injured, or weak) as he, there were no bandages or scars in sight.  

“The fuck?” He examined his arms, but there was nothing there that he hadn’t already been accustomed too. His scars from previous battles remained, but there were no bandages.

 He had gotten fucked up- mostly by self inflicted injury. Even if recovery girl had come in, there would be more than just a lingering pain. 

What the fuck is going on?

 He slid off the bed, ignoring the cold tile as it seeped into his bare feet. He quickly walked toward the door, flinging it open with a force that he probably didn’t need to use- but the frustration within him made him want to explode. 

 The hallways were bare, white and dreary, no windows in sight. There was no bustle of nurses as they went from room to room, no chatter from the televisions that were hooked up to each walk, no crying from those who were forced to go through such pain.

No one stopped him. He, a patient in the ICU. Why the fuck wasn’t anyone stopping him?

He suppressed a shudder, gritting his teeth. This was too fuckin weird.

He wanted out. He wanted to get to Kirishima. Where the fuck was everyone? Were they in their own rooms? 

Why was it so quiet?

He sped through the empty hallway, heading towards wherever the hell would take him away from that creepy ass area. He followed signs, heading toward the main desk.

No one stopped him. No one was there.

He turned the corner, eyes narrowing when he spotted the main desk. The waiting room was empty. There was no crying of children, no chatter, no rustle of the newspapers that were strewn across the coffee tables.

There was one lone nurse at the table, looking through a few papers. 

The logo on her uniform was grey. Not the usual red he was used to. 

“I assume you’re looking for Red Riot?” The nurses voice is robotic, unfeeling and cold as she scans over the monitor in front of her.  

“Room 317.” 

She didn’t look up, only nodding in the direction of the hallway to his left. 

This wasn’t right. There’s no way in hell that this was an actual hospital. Great- he was probably taken by villains or something. Again. Fantastic. 

Every sensible bone in his body was telling him to go back, to run- to find some way out of this shitty excuse for a hospital and find the others- he wanted to run and kick whoever was responsible for making him deal with all this shit when he was worried for Eijirou. 

Eijirou.

In front of him, was a door that had the number 317 written on the top. Had he really come this far? He didn’t remember walking, but the nurses station was no where in sight.

Yeah, there’s definitely something up here. 

There was a pit in his stomach, and for once he could admit that he was nervous- yeah, he was fucking nervous. This whole thing was already shady, but even so, Kirishima could be behind there.

Before thinking, he opened the door, eyes trained on floor below him. the grainy tiles were sickeningly smooth under his feet as he moved onwards, his feet sliding across them as he forced himself forwards.

He’s waiting, waiting for the color to burst back into his life- waiting for this shitty haze of grey, white, and black too finally back the fuck off so he could really see the world around him. 

“Katsuki! You made it!” 

He knows that voice- knows it way too ducking well. It’s the voice that came with that ball of fucking sunshine with a side of shitty hair.

Eijirou..

 His eyes are still trained on the floor, unable to look up at the boy sitting in the lone hospital bed. No able to look up and see the face of someone he so obviously hurt.

 Jesus Christ, this ain’t it.

 “Katsuki, come on; why aren’t you looking at me?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, tight enough that stars burst in the darkness behind his eyelids.

There are grey galaxies behind his closed eyes, no longer the green, red, and blue that he had used to see whenever he pressed his hands against his eyes, that little star show that he had one loved was not the same as it had used to be. 

So, why wasn’t he looking? Why was his whole world still grey even if Kirishima was right there?

Because there’s no way in hell that this way the real kirishima 

“Katsuki…” Kirishima’s voice is soft and steady. Bakugou hears the rustling if sheets as Kirishima slips off his bed. He ahouldnt be able to walk so early- he was dead- this isn’t him, this isn’t him, this ISN’T him.

But he can’t pull away, rooted to the spot and unable to tear his eyes away. He feels a careful, calloused hand rest itself on his forearm a moment later.

That’s when he snaps.

“Shit!” Bakugou snatches his arm away. “Don’t touch me! And don’t call me that!”

As he pulls away, his eyes no longer trained on the grey tile floor, he locks eyes with Kirishima, seeing his scarred and bandaged face. 

It isn’t the abundance of bandages that fucked him up- it was those eyes, the ones that had always been so bright and happy and red- 

They were black.

“I think I can do whatever I want to you,” Kirishima’s grip is soft and firm, not this- not tight and painful. Those aren’t his eyes- they aren’t the soft, sunset red that he had always found himself looking into- they’re a cold, piercing black, the only color that he could see in this suddenly dark room. But he’s not being pulled in- this isn’t like all those other times. This isn’t right- none of it is.

This isn’t the Kirishima that he knew

“After all- you’re the reason for his end Katsuki.”

 Those words were nothing more than a rude awakening.

He is colored by the anger inside him; The fire running through his veins, waiting for the chance to explode out of him.

 He tugs his arm back, but he’s weak, arms still burning from overusing his quirk. He feels the familiar heat crackling up underneath his sweaty palms, but no- not yet; Kirishima or not, this is still a hospital- and, looking at that soft face, he knows that he can’t fucking do it.

“Do you know what it was like, Katsuki?” The name is spat out like it was venom, cold and heartless, and Kirishima’s grip tightens even more, his fingertips becoming hard.

“How it felt to be dying on the sidelines when you wanted nothing more to live?”

The fire inside him burns-bright, But then more hands were emerging and grabbing him as well.  He felt them on his shoulder and upper arm, grip firm, trying to forcefully yank him back.  

 He’s choking, wanting nothing more than to scream when he feels himself being pulled backwards, into the unknown, the searing heat of the palm wrapped around his neck close to driving him insane.

Bakugou slammed his elbow back into Kirishima-his attacker, desperate to get away because he had to get the fuck out of there- he can’t handle being constructed- he won’t do this shit again.

The hands are grabbing harder, pulling him back from the open door in front of him. There are too many hands for them to just be Kirishima’s. But he wasn’t going to look back, he couldn’t- no when the light in front of him burned bright red- bathing the room in that eerie color.

“How does it feel....Katsuki!”

 -

“Katsuki!”

his voice.

 Bakugou jerked awake, gasping and shaking uncontrollably.  Most of the details of his nightmare fell away the moment he opened his eyes, but there was one remnant clinging to his consciousness, making him all too aware.

 His mouth moved silently like a fish as he choked on air. He blinked into the darkness, eyes slowly adjusting to the lack of light, beginning to focus on the shape of a person looming over him.

Instinctively he tried to jerk away, but the figure reached out for him, grabbing at his trembling upper arms.

Grabbing and too close, scarred hands were reaching for his neck.... he shoved the figure back, ignoring their cry of surprise when he sat straight up against his bed-frame.

“Woah there!” 

He’s still panting, and he knows it, but he forces himself to glare at whoever had the unfortunate luck of catching him in such a state.

 A small lady stood by the side of his bed, a large needle like came in her hand as she steadied herself, clearly surprised by his outburst. 

 There are bandages wrapped tightly around his arms, but Bakugou couldn't bring himself to think about it, instead pushing himself up with them as he struggles to get himself the fuck out of there because shit- he needs to go see kirishima- he needs to make sure that he didn’t fuck up that bad, that he didn’t kill him.

Those aren’t the real reasons why- no fucking way. Shit, he wished he had said it sooner, before that one stupid study date, before Kirishima was bleeding out, dying in his arms.

 He should have said it the first time he had ever laid eyes on him, the redhead who had made his world burst into color all those years ago, who made his world one of rainbows(no, not just because he’s gay) and sunshine, the one who had managed to take his world by storm.

 He wants to know if Kirishima Eijirou, the love of his fucking life, is okay.

 He’s trembling too hard, and his arms give out from underneath him. 

He feels sluggish, and he knows why.  There’s darkness pooling at the corners of his vision and no- not yet. He couldn’t fuckin sleep again, not with those nightmares, not without Kirishima.

...Who might be dead 

”Recovery Girl, ” he acknowledges her with a glare, but all the feeling within it is sapped by his lack of energy. He’s laying down, but he’s all tense, body ready to spring up whenever his legs aren’t being little shits and can actually move. 

The tension in the air is thick, and, maybe of that blonde yandere lookin bitch was here, she could slice it with one of her knives. He didn’t even want to think about any of them. He wanted out. He wanted to see if everyone else was okay. Recovery girl only chuckles as she watched him struggle, but it’s not a humorous chuckle, more or less one to break the ice.

 The ice remains cold.

“F-Bomb,” she smiles at him, but it’s a somber one, “good to see that you’re well.” 

Yeah, no thanks to you, is something he dearly wants to say, but shit, you can’t talk back to someone you might be depending on for years in the future- the one could very well save your life when you need it. So, he settles for a glare, one cold and chilling, similar to the shattered ice within his lungs, broken and harsh, digging into his lungs with each and every heave of a breath.I’m 

“Your friends wanted you to have this,” she handed him a small rectangular piece of metal, one with a fireproof case that Ponytail had made him for his birthday all those months before. His phone. He had no idea how his friends (Probably Mina, Sero, or Kaminari) knew where it was. Scratch that, they’ve sneaked into his room too many times to not know. “They said that you better respond to them as soon as you’re able, and that Young Sero will hang you from the ceiling again if you don’t.” She sounds concerned, but he’s not looking at her, he’s looking at his phone, which turned on once she handed it to him. He’s looking at his background, a picture of him and Kirishima, and shit dude, the dams threaten to break then and there. 

It was a meme, which completely ruined the mood. It was one Kirishima had created and set as his background for the hell of it. You know, ‘yeah, we gay. I Keep scrolling’? It was exactly that- poses and everything. Bakugou never bothered to change it (so he said. He actually thought it was hilarious.)

He smiled sadly, scoffing at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. The stupid fucking picture- something so god awful (in a meme sense) and something so Kirishima at the same time. 

They’d been happy.

How had everything gone to shit in less than a week?

“That being done, Before you ask; he’s okay.”

Those words were like a bout of fresh air into his depraved lungs, and, one by one, it was as if he could feel those broken shards being dug out from deep inside his lungs and heart. There might’ve been beauty in the light reflecting off those ruby red fragments, but damn, love hurt like shit.

“He was dead, Bakugou, I hope you understand that.” Her mouth is set in a grim line as she shakes her head, “it was a miracle that we were able to get his heart started again.”

He pushes himself back up, ready to stand up once more because shit- kirishima was alive; he could see him and shit everything would be okay and-

 He freezes when she glares at him, his arm shaking as he struggled to pull off the hospital covers. “So, please, take it slowly; you’re injured yourself.” Her eyes narrow, “and I do not want another Midoriya under my watch.” 

He rolls his eyes at her, but he feels his lips begin to pull upward at the thought of Midoriya being a dumbass with his quirk, which was nothing out of the usual.

His Raised hand falters, falling back to his bandaged side. Shit, right- no time to waste remembering. The past was for pussies. He had to pull through. 

Fuck, why couldn’t things just go back to normal.

“Alright, right,” she frowns at him, eyes brows furrowed. “...sensei.”

 She smiles at that. At any hint of respect from bakugou was something worth, we’ll, something.

She walks out of the room slowly, even slower than usual. Maybe to his sheer want to get the hell out of there speaking, or maybe it’s just her wanting to make sure that her dumbass student won’t make his injuries any worse. 

As soon as he watched the door behind her, as soon as he heard her footsteps get quieter and quieter as she traveled away from his room, he grabs his phone off his nightstand, shoving it in his pocket as he stands on shaky legs. 

He all but slams the door behind him, leaving the room he had been residing in dipped in monochrome. 

As he stepped into the white lit hallway, feet tapping against the bare tile floor. He headed eastward- doing what he wanted to do since the very beginning.

He needs to get out there, to the real Kirishima.

And no one can fucking stop him.

Chapter Text

He looks like a mess, and he fuckin knows it.

His hair was a mixture of spikes and frizz, parts of his hair laying flat while others stuck straight up; he hadn’t bothered taming it when he rushed out of his room. His eyes were dull, and his pale skin was pastier than ever.

And shit

As he stood there, barbecue sauce on his titties(as Mina would say), he realized that he had no fuckin idea which room Kirishima was in.

He wandered past all of the doors, but each and every door looked the same with its white surface and little window.

He growled in frustration, tempted to hit the wall as he passed yet another empty room. But no, Bakugou, this is a public establishment; people are dying here, Bakugou.

He huffed, shoving his hands in his pockets, glad that hospital gowns were good for something. He paused when he felt something inside his pocket though, pulling it out with shaky fingers.

Oh yeah, his phone.

When had he used it last? 2 days ago? Right before this whole mess? He didn’t want to think about it.

He stopped in the middle of the hallway, moonlight from the open windows surrounding him and lighting up the further down hallways.

He rolled his eyes once again as he looked at his background. But, again, It’s weird to think how everything could go to shit in a span of less than a week.

He opened his messaging app, the one that contained all the class group chats and sub chats. It’s a mess up in there, but at least he could credit it to getting both him and Kirishima together.

Now, let’s see if any of his idiots knew where the hell his room was.

He clicked the ‘members’ button, and he was greeted with 21 names(he still didn’t know how Shinsou got into their class). Only two people were shown to be online, their icons lit up and with a green tab to show their availability.

One was someone he had known for a very long time, and he highkey fuckin hated it. Of course Midoriya had to be awake at this hour, and the nerd was probably reading some All Might fanfiction or some shit.

Or, probably not. He might be worried over Half and Half. Bakugou has known (and hated) the guy long enough to know that him being ‘taken in’ to the hospital must mean that something bad happened.

He hated to admit it, but Todoroki was strong. He’ll be fine.

Besides that, he and Midoriya had gotten better, but there was still no way in hell that he would ever willingly text that Shitnerd.

Ever.

The other was someone he had come to know- Mina Ashido.

She’s never usually on this late, insisting on her beauty sleep. But, honestly, he’s pretty sure he knows why she’s up this time.

He feels his lips pull up a tad bit as he looked at her profile picture. A picture of the ‘Bakusquad’(he loathed the name) the day 1-A went to the beach. It was a good day, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it to anyone just yet. They had tag teamed him, throwing him into the water with a clear death wish.

They’re lucky the water stopped his explosive sweat from working.

Sero and Kaminari were laying down on the sand, finger gunning at one another. Mina was in the middle, blowing kisses at the screen. He looked like a wet puppy, hair flat and droplets of water dripping down his face as he glared at the camera. Next to him, was the redhead that brought them all together-

Kirishima was there.

He had his arm around his shoulders, pulling Bakugou in close while shooting a peace sign at the camera. He was equally as wet as Bakugou, having body slammed Bakugou back in the water right after Kaminari and Sero had thrown him in. He was the one nominated to do such because, apparently, he was the only one who wouldn't have any repercussions for doing it.

He was right.

He shook his head, ignoring the twinge in his palms as he remembered what it was like carrying his dead body in his arms

Damn, that’s fucked up.

He smiled sadly as he scanned over their previous messages, the ones they had sent to one another just three days before.

It was a picture that she sent to him, one she took when she dragged ‘her boys’ (as she called the Bakusquad boys) to a pet shop.

He remembered her taking it, especially since he had tried to wrestle the phone out of her hands as soon as he realized she was taking it. Kirishima had wrestled it out of his hands though, holding it over his head as he laughed, a pitbull puppy at their feet, barking and licking Bakugou each and every time he tried to snatch the phone out of his hands.

He must’ve been too late though, because the picture had been taken. There was proof.

He had a little yellow Pomeranian in his arms, looking up at him with those huge bright eyes(For real, something that cute had to be ILLEGAL). He was looking down at it, a soft smile of his face as he pet it. It was so out of character for him- so he hated it. If it ever got out to the class, especially Half and Half, he’d probably fight each and every thing in his way-

Or so he told Kirishima as they walked back to the dorms together, hand in hand.

“Oh come on, it’s a cute picture!”

It was similar to when they were walking back from that pool day way back when; the sun was setting, casting soft colors across the brown paved roads. The leaves were orange, falling at their feet with each gentle breeze. It was nothing more than your average pretty day in mid October.

But, with Kirishima at his side, it seemed so much more than that.

However, with the way Kirishima had been looking at his phone, clearly texting some stupid shit to Raccoon Eyes, he couldn’t help but scowl; of course Mina had sent it out already, for Kirishima had already set it as his background. Fantastic. It’ll probably be pasted across the dorms by tomorrow night. Thanks a lot, Soy Sauce.

Tuesday 7:34 pm
Dancing Queen Softboys.jpg
Dancing Queen Wow! There’s two Bakugous in this picture!
F-Bomb fuck off

And that was that. That was the last text he sent her before everything went to shit. It was fitting.

F-Bomb Yo, Raccoon Eyes.

It didn’t take long for the little ‘typing’ bubble to pop up. He wasn’t surprised. She’s always online, be it looking at memes or searching for some kind of drama.

Dancing Queen omg wig
Dancing Queen Baku, I didn’t know you were awake!!!
F-Bomb no, I’m texting you while I’m asleep.

He uses sarcasm far too much when he’s typing- enough so that it comes automatically.

Dancing Queen That’s too bad :( I wanted to talk to u!!

Jesus Christ, he doesn’t know why he tolerates her- especially when she pulls stupid shit like this.

Dancing Queen I’m joking lol. Im glad ur awake. Are you okay?  

He didn’t have time for this.

He didn’t bother answering the question, because, honestly, he didn’t know for himself. He didn’t bother with other conversation, didn’t bother with other icebreakers.

He might be the boy with the explosion quirk, but he’s the legit worst when it comes down to breaking the ice.

F-Bomb What’s his room number.

Dancing Queen  317

He didn’t bother looking after that, shoving his phone in his pocket even as he heard it buzz.

-

There’s a small window on the unopened door, looking in with a limited view of what was inside. Honestly, it was kind of an invasion of privacy. Then again, if they were to be heroes, they would have no privacy anyway.

Red eyes are drawn to curly hair as he looks in the window, eyebrows furrowed as his blurry vision locks onto something inside the room.

There's no color, only the monochromatic haze of blacks and whites mixing together in a soundless cry. It’s late, maybe it’s because he’s hella tired, but damn, hospitals at nIgor feel like another reality.

But he knows who he sees through the window- he recognizes the bright, self proclaimed ‘Alien Queen’ of Class 1-A.

He sees Mina Ashido.

She’s sitting Kirishima’s bedside, her hand on one of the other boy’s arms as she watched over him. Bakugou paused at the door, hand poised on the doorknob, ready to turn it and enter.

Then he hears her speak.

“You’re absolutely awful, Kiri,” she’s leaning against Kirishima's bedside, head on one of her arms as reaches out to grasp one of Kirishima's motionless hands, “I can’t believe you went out there and sacrificed yourself again.” She meant to sound chiding, but her voice quivers on those last lines. This isn’t anything like last time. Last time he broke his arm. This time his heart stopped.

This time, it was so much more messed up.

Her thumb grazes over Kirishima's still hand, “Everyone's worried about you, you know. As soon as Kami woke up, he was out of his room and asking how everyone was before the nurses even knew he was awake.” She giggled, rolling her eyes as if she wasn’t surprised, “Sero and I stuck together after the whole thing. I was scared shitless when I saw Bakugou run into the clearing with you unconscious,” she trailed off, thumb brushing over his pale knuckles before continuing, “..I’d probably be in jail for assaulting a few police officers if it weren’t for Sero. I still need to properly thank him.” She thinks of Sero, how he’s sleeping in Kaminari’s room. She didn’t have the heart to wake either of them up when it was this late.

That and, well, she feels selfish for saying this, but she kind of wanted some alone time with him. He’s one of her best friends- and she’d be damned if she wasn’t shaken up about the whole situation.

“And, Bakugou,” she sucked in a breath, and even from the doorway outside, he saw how she bit her lip. “He- he hasn’t been doing too good. I mean, it took him a while to wake up, and now- well, he’s probably fighting the nurses just to get down here.”
Her free hand, the one not currently holding Kirishima’s hand, clenches down on the fabric of her shorts. She’s trembling. She’s afraid.

“None of us want to lose you again, Kiri- hell, I don’t want to lose you. Remember middle school? That was wild- but we did it together.”

She shakes her head, a reminiscent smile on her face as she remembered, remembered meeting that shy, black haired kid, remembered finding out that he looked up to her, finding out that he also wanted to be a hero.

She couldn’t believe that it had been 4 years since then, since that villain cornered her and her friends by that bank. She doesn’t remember him from then, but she remembers him telling her about it- how he admired her, because she was a hero in all the ways that he wasn't.

She remembers hanging out with him-the other student from her school who got into U.A.

She remembers everything they’ve done together, not just Kirishima, but their whole squad. Honestly, without him, the whole ‘Bakusquad’ probably never would have come to be. (it really should be called the ‘kirisquad’, but they all loved how much ‘bakusquad’ pissed off Bakugou).

That, and, well, Bakugou probably would’ve blown all their faces off by now.

Unrelated to Bakugou’s anger issues, she remembers the look in Kirishima’s eyes as he told her something she had never thought she’d be hearing.

“I look up to you, you know.” 

Needless to say, she was shook as hell back then, in that stupid little cafe.

-

The cafe wasn’t much to talk about, if she was being honest.

It was a tiny little place, located in some tucked away corner on some unpopular street. The pink tables were chipped, their surface littered with random messages or with questionable stains (she prays the one in front of her is mayonnaise instead of the... Alternative).

The sign was tacky, the bright pink letters standing out against pale yellow. The pink lights flickered on and off, only a few of the pink letters lighting up in sync.

No wonder very few customers sat themselves inside, instead taking their coffee and looking for some other outside place to sit.

Absolutely horrible interior design aside, she thought it was pretty cute. She's a sucker for pink, which is not very surprising, but hey- don’t even bother asking her. Denki did once, and it did not end well. ( “well, What’s your favorite color?”
She and Kirishima lock eyes from across the table, and she sees the pure terror written across his face. Denki doesn’t get the hint, more focused on the box of fries in his grubby little hands.
“Seriously? You’re really going to ask me that?” It’s more a warning than a question, her fist slamming into the table as she stares at him. Her black eyes are unfeeling, cold. But he isn’t looking back. “It’s fuckin pink, bitch!” )
She’s lucky Sero got the reference, or being stared at by everyone in the cafeteria would’ve been much worse than it had.

But hey, can you blame her, when she's pink from head to toe?

The bell rings, and she watched as another couple walks in, hand in hand as they head up towards the register.

She sighed, laying her head in her hands. She was too tired for this, they had to have been the 8th customer that came in since she got there, yet the one she wants to meet had yet to come. Whose idea was this anyway? Meeting after school, in this creepy little cafe?

Oh right. It was hers.

She groaned, fumbling with the muffin within her hand. You have to buy something if you don’t want to be labeled as a loiterer(is that what it’s called? She never really paid attention to it.) The couple from before ordered their drinks, and the girl laughed as the boy somehow managed to spill half his drink on his shirt before he even took his second sip.

As the girl grabbed some napkins for the boy, carefully wiping off the drink, Mina couldn’t help but think of how sickeningly sweet it was.

Damn. She isn’t into all that romance stuff, but being alone absolutely sucked, especially when you’re by yourself in a goddamn creepy, rundown, cafe. especially when you asked the guy to hang out with you through a note in his locker.

Jesus Christ, he probably thought she was some creepy fangirl.

The thought was almost enough to drive her to drink. But, considering that isn’t legal for her to do and that there are no beverages that she ordered, she did the alternative.

The bell rings yet again, just as she shoved her muffin into her mouth.

Her eyes aren’t trained on the door as a black haired boy walks in, brow furrowed as he stared at the note within his hand. The cashier calls out a greeting, and he cheerfully responds, taking that moment to look around.

Even though the cafe itself was incredibly pink, there was no way in hell that Mina never stood out in one way or another.

“Hey, You’re Ashido, right?”, She looks up, seeing an all too familiar black haired kid, who was staring at her with concern.

Shit, the muffin!

“Hmfh!”

She quickly shoved the rest of the muffin into her mouth, highkey dying inside from embarrassment.

The boy fidgets with his cuffs as he waits for her to finish, eyes confused.

“Yeah, that’s me!” She hurriedly wipes her face with a napkin, “Mina Ashido, haha..”

Okay, the next few minutes were hella awkward. She spent the time watching the people come in and out of the store as the boy went up and grabbed a drink for himself. She traced smiley faces into the crumbs littered across the table’s surface. It’s pretty gross, but it’s better to focus on something other than her embarrassment.

Well, so much for good first impressions..

It isn’t too long after that when the boy comes back, sitting across from her after placing his coffee down on the table. He doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t either. They only stare, amber eyes meeting red.

She’s usually the social one, but, looking at the black haired boy sitting across from her, silent, fumbling with the note in his hand, she didn’t quite know what to say.

“So,” she leaned her head in her hands, amber eyes glittering as she took in the boy with interest, “tell me about yourself, uh..?”
Shit. What was his name again?
The boy perked at her words, a smile coming to sit atop his face(were those shark teeth???)
He didn’t seem offended all. “Kirishima,” She couldn’t help stare at his teeth. It’s a weird thing to do- a REALLY weird thing to do, especially with someone you just met, but holy shit they were pointy.

He followed her gaze, chuckling when he realized what she was looking at. “They’re something to do with my hardening quirk. You really should’ve seen my dentist’s reaction to them after my quirk first appeared,” he’s smiling as he says that, tongue absentmindedly running across his sharp teeth, “he nearly quit on the spot! That doesn’t compare to the look on my mom’s face when she saw them though. She was excited, I think? But then she realized how many toothbrushes that I’d end up ruining..” He rambles on, smiling at the memory, but it was a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Huh, maybe this smiley dude was more than he seemed.

“So your quirk’s something to do with hardening your skin, right? That’s pretty cool!” She lifts her head out of her hand before cupping her hands together, quickly filling the little cupped space with a little bit of liquid, “I can create acid and stuff. It’s pretty cool, but it sucks that I’ve burnt through so many of my clothes. And gloves? Forget it. They’ll have burn marks by the end of the day.” He laughs at that, noticing the slight singe marks on the fabric where her long sleeve shirt met her wrists.

“Nothing has really come out of my quirk, I mean, I got this scar,” he points to the little nick above his eye, “that’s pretty much it.”

“Scars are cool though! It shows you’ve been through something.”

Kirishima takes a sip of his coffee, unable to fight the grin on his lips, “Sure, if ‘going through something’ means waking up in the middle of the night, rubbing your eye and nearly slicing your face open, then that’s definitely something.”

She frowned at that, not liking how sad he seemed at the memory. Kirishima must’ve noticed the change in mood, for he, much like her with her muffin, downed that coffee like it was a shot.

They didn’t speak for a few more moments, not really knowing what to say. Damn, she was actually enjoying talking to him too.

He wasn’t very slick with the glances he kept stealing, absentmindedly playing with his empty coffee cup. She knows what boys mean when they keep trying to glance at you, well, the boys she has dealt with, anyway.

She’d like to think that he was better than that- he really did seem to be, anyway. Just awkward.

“You better not think of this as a date, you know.” Changing the topic, she laughed as she watched Kirishima splutter, suddenly snapping to attention, cheeks becoming red with embarrassment at her words.

She laughs as she looks back at this moment, since she now knows that Kirishima is one of the most disastrous gays that she has ever met (third only to Bakugou and Todoroki).

“No, dude! I’m just- still in shock about all this.”

“About what? Meeting up here?”

Damn, was the cafe really that creepy? She should really work on her meeting locations from now on.

“No- no!” He shooks his head, hands held out in front of him, “I just never thought that I’d be good enough for, well, this whole hero thing,” he said sheepishly, running a hand through his hair(he seems to do that when he’s flustered).

“What, why?”

She wines at his hurt expression, and geez, she should probably be more gentle. 

“I mean, I’m not really hero material. I only got in by chance..” he bit the inside of his cheek, and she can’t help but wonder if that hurts or not, “I don’t have a flashy quirk or anything, so I’m still, surprised, I guess.”

Huh. That was weird.

She wouldn’t lie and say that she hadn’t been nervous for the exam- she freaked out over it(ESPECIALLY the written portion). But, there was always a voice in the back of her mind that kept saying: “Hey, you got this. Just work hard.”

So, she kind of knew that she would get in. Her gut feeling is never wrong, after all.

She really should’ve thought that it might not be the same for others.

“And, well,” he paused, sucking in a breath, “this is kind of embarrassing but,”

She raised an eyebrow, her finger still absentmindedly drawing using the crumbs on the table.

“I look up to you, you know.”

She froze, finger stopping it’s tracing. If she had her muffin still, there’s no way in hell that he wouldn’t be choking on it. Someone call life alert.

“What?”

Kirishima grins, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, ”I mean, I've always thought you were pretty cool- you’re always one of the first to act, you have a lot of friends.. you got bullies to breakdance!, ” He laughs, and Mina can't help but wonder when he saw her dance. Was it when she took down the bullies? Was it in McDonald’s that one time? Mr.Okido’s desk? Either way, she couldn't help but notice how little she knew about him- but he seems to know so much about her.

Huh, maybe this meeting was more for her benefit than she believed.

”You also save people, Ashido, I was a witness, ” ??? What?? When?? Who?? After a moment of fumbling around within her mind- she remembered. Ah, yes, that whole villain incident. She can’t help but smile at the memory. The feeling of adrenaline pumping through her veins as she ran forward to save her friends, the utter bullshit spewing out of her mouth when she realized that she couldn’t fight her way out of the situation, the fear threatening to overtake her once she realized just what was going on. SHe had never been one to think before acting, and she really could use a bit more of tact, but goddamn- she was lucky she did something.

She was referenced in the news too! That was awesome!

He looks up, red eyes sincere- open, a pool of res threatening to pull her in, ”I guess that you’re manly as hell, Ashido.”

Manly? She cocks an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms over her chest. She didn’t mean anything by the action, but as she watches his eyes follow her action, and as she watches a blush crawl up his neck, she realizes that maybe both of them fucked up.

”I mean that in a good way!” he says quickly, hands fumbling with his coffee cup. “Regardless of gender, a hero is someone with good intentions- someone who’s brave and willing to fight for a greater cause,” he’s flustered, but he locks eyes with her all the same, ”what I’m trying to say is.. you're a good person- a real hero, Ashido.”

She thinks of All Might- a real hero, the one who never stopped smiling, even when everything, to be frank, was going to shit. She thought of how he and the other pro heroes fought to save people.

That’s going to be her one day.. and maybe, she looks at him, seeing the passion in his eyes as he speaks about being a hero. No, definitely. He will be there beside her and their classmates- he’ll become a damn good hero too.

“Well, I guess that makes the two of us!”

She turns around, reaching down to zip open her bag. She pulls out the white envelope, sealed with that red stamp that read ‘U.A’.

“We both got into the top Hero school for a reason! If I’m manly, I’m sure as hell that you are too, Mr. Second on the Entrance exam.” She smiles at his flustered expression, as if he isn’t used to being complimented like that before. With her around, that’ll definitely change.

“We gotta make this work if we wanna make it in U.A together,” she sticks out her hand, the pale pink a stark contrast from the brown table below, “So, you in?”

Kirishima grinned, eyes twinkling. He took her hand, shaking it with a firm grip.

“You’d better believe it.”

Honestly, him telling her that was one of the reasons why she became a hero.

She might not be good at school stuff, But Mina Ashido is great with people. And, unlike the answers to the questions on last weeks math test, she knows that she’s gotten something right.

Wait- no, looking into those determined red eyes, she knows she has.

Her gut feeling is never wrong, after all. 

-

But then again, seeing him still in this hospital bed after nearly giving his life towards the cause of a hero, she didn't know what to believe; he's always been there, fighting for what's right.

What's the use of training to become a hero if you were only going to die in the process?

No, she shakes her head, clasping her friend’s hand more firmly between hers. Her eyes trail up his still form, watching as the wires that were keeping him alive were encased around him, almost as if they weren't letting him go.

No, not yet- not ever.

Well, if wires weren't willing in letting her friend go, Mina is sure as hell that she wouldn't either.

She sighs, her hair blowing into her eyes. It was a mess, per usual. She chuckles, running her free hand through her wild locks. She feels her horns, the thing that Kirishima had been enraptured by the first time they met.

They were horn buddies, after all.

But now, with his hair down, his makeshift ’horns’ nowhere in place, she knows how vulnerable he is- how easily something can break apart the bonds that might have been formed years ago.

She knows he and Bakugou were separated after embarking out on their final exam- a story shared by the majority of others within their class.

God, it must’ve been terrifying for them.

It was terrifying for her, after all.

She remembers how she and Sero got separated from one another- how she was cornered, how they nearly- she didn’t even want to think about it.

But goddamn, she wished she could forget.

Chapter Text

Mina was silent.

Bakugou didn’t like it one bit.

Mina has always been the person in the class who, alongside Kaminari, was physically incapable of shutting up. 

And now, she’s sitting there, fist clenched and trembling as she watched her best friend lie motionless in a hospital bed. 

He opened the door, trying his best to ignore the twinge of worry that sparked in his gut when she flinched.

”Hey,” Mina said as he next to her, her voice no longer that loud, giggly mess that he had come to know. 

He grunted in response, taking Kirishima’s limp hand, clasping it gently, almost reverently, between both of his own. Though limp, his pulse, at least, is strong and steady when his fumbling fingers, desperate for reassurance beyond the sterile beeping of the heart monitor, seek it out on his wrist. Dark eyelashes lie still against pale and blotchy cheeks, though, if he looked close enough, he could see movement underneath. However, Kirishima is still asleep (comatose is the word that echoes through his mind, but he grits his teeth and doesn't want to think about it).

For once, there were no follow up conversations, no quips about how shitty he looked, no jokes to lighten the mood. 

For one of the first times since he met her, Mina Ashido was quiet. 

The first time was after the midterms, when he found her in the common room, papers scattered all over the floor as she cradled her head in her hands. It was nearly 3am. Honestly, who hasn’t witnessed some weird shit at 3am? He saw ponytail aggressively making tea there once. How do you even aggressively make tea? He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get that image out of his head- especially coming from a girl like Yaoyorozu, it was rather surprising to see how serious she took it. 

Back then, Mina had looked like she was in a rough spot, curled up on the couch with papers scattered around her. 

In short, he hadn’t cared. Why should he? He was fuckin thirsty and this person wasn’t his friend (yet). It wasn’t his responsibility to be her therapist or something.

He padded into the kitchen, hand rubbing at his eyes as he reached into the refrigerator. There was one water bottle in there, and he cared less that the name ‘Midoriya’ was written on it. 

No one called out to him as he took Midoriya’s water bottle, no one yelled at him for throwing it back in the fridge, and no one yelled at him for slamming the refrigerator door at two in the morning. He glanced back at the couch, seeing 

...Okay, even though she wasn’t his friend. The silence was unnerving. 

From what he’s seen(or, more accurately, heard from her), Raccoon Eyes was fucking annoying. Really loud, always giggly and bouncy in ways that he absolutely hated.  He made that hatred clear too - but she always met it with a smile and some cheery comment.

He hated it, but he’d lie if he said that he didn’t find her at all interesting. Even though she acted like she wore her heart on her sleeve, Bakugou never quite managed to figure her out. How could she act so optimistic all the time? How could she not give a shit? 

Well, now seemed like a time where she actually did, in fact, give a shit.

“Yo, Raccoon eyes,” he craned his neck, looking over his shoulder to the girl on the couch, who seemed to freeze When she realized that he had, in fact, noticed her. Shit, he should’ve just left her alone. That would’ve allowed him to avoid this.  But the words escaped his lips before he could stop himself, “You good?”

Her reaction was something similar to that of those creepy dolls from horror movies- the kind where the dolls slowly turn their weird-ass heads to look at you with their broken smiles. But he wouldn’t describe Mina as creepy, not really. Especially not with the way that her shoulders shook with sadness and - oh NO, not this shit. He’s absolute garbage at consoling people.

“Ahaha, Bakugou! What a surprise!” She quickly shoved some of the papers she was staring at behind her, only succeeding in making more of a mess, “Didn’t expect you to be down here!” 

“This about the midterms?” Bakugou, ever so sensitive and able to read the mood, got straight to the point. He raised an eyebrow, shoving the water bottle unceremoniously back into the refrigerator. She sighed, before nodding.

“Yeah, just kinda bummed about it.” She shrugged, her shoulders drooping, “I can’t believe I failed this time! Especially after I’ve worked so hard to get into this school.” After those last few words, she seemed to curl in even more on herself, and that was a really weird sight to see. 

God, he hated to admit that he realized this, but this was unlike her. She was laughing today, smiling even as she got handed her test back, smiling soon after she was told that she failed the midterm. 

A hero is someone that never stops smiling. Mina’s always been one of the biggest examples of that.

So yeah, this was really fuckin weird.

“I guess that not even Recovery girl can heal dumb bitch disease,” she sighed, burying her head in her hands.

“If she did, then she’d be out of work,” he responded, sliding in to sit down on the couch a good 3 feet away from her, “you idiots are the only reason why she has a job in the first place.” 

“‘Us idiots?’” She wrinkled her nose, “Says the one who has been to her office 5 times this week,” Mina looked up, peeking through the cracks between her fingers, “and it’s only Wednesday.”

He scoffed, “I’m not the one failing exams.”

She went quiet at that, any semblance of a smile that had been on her face disappearing in an instant. 

Oh. He fucked up. He didn’t really care. If anything, he was just trying to make conversation with her to let her know that she should probably clean that paper shit up before Aizawa yelled at them all for it.  But then Kirishima’s voice sounds from the back of his mind - “‘A hero means no one is left behind!’” And yeah, now he knows the real reason why he’s trying to help. Mina’s one of the beacons of hope within the class. She’s always smiling and she’s always in good spirits. Even he had begun to keep an eye out for her light. It’s fuckin stupid that she’s sad over this, not when she has other shit that she’s usually smiling about.

(He tries to ignore the discomfort he feels in his gut about her being sad, a foreign feeling that he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to).

“Look,” he sighs, and looks into her eyes, ignoring the way that those black depths threatened to pull him in, “I don’t know what I'm supposed to say, or whatever the fuck you want to hear, but listen,” he leans back against the couch,  crossing his arms over his chest as he spoke, “if you don’t give up, and if you don’t back down,” he mutters, red eyes meeting yellow, “it means you’re strong- and that’s exactly what a hero is supposed to be. You're holding back, Raccoon Eyes, and that shit isn't like you.” he looks up, ”If there's anything I hate more than Deku, then it's people not living up to their full fuckin potential. Go beyond, plus ultra or some shit,” he looks her in her eyes, ”just don’t let your doubt or other stupid shit hold you back, because punishing yourself is not helping anyone.”

She blinked at him owlishly for a moment, and he’s feeling awkward. Great. He did this to himself and now he had to deal with it. Except this problem isn’t socially acceptable to blow up.

“Wow, for someone with the emotional skills of a gnat, you’re pretty good at this!” 

She laughs at the way he snapped his head around, and, if he had still had that water bottle in his hands, it probably would be nothing but ash. 

“Fuck off, gnats are awesome.” He mutter-yelled because Bakugou is wholly incapable of normally being quiet, and even though there are most definitely no good things about gnats. 

She laughs again at that pathetic comment, but she’s looking down at the papers scattered around her again, the look in her eyes thoughtful. Sure, she seemed less sad than she was before, but there was something telling him that he should probably distract her more. 

But what the hell could he do? He’s used to making an entrance and a scene with his quirk, but the last time he used it inside the dorms he destroyed the tv and was banned from Mina’s room. So, what could he do? 

“Look, Raccoon Eyes,” he’s speaking before he has time to think, eyes steeled and fiery as he looks down at her, “there happen to be six people in this school that I respect.”

She’s heard it all before, how Bakugou doesn’t like anybody besides himself, Kirishima, and maybe Uraraka. But six? The number is usually much lower than that.

“And?” 

“...and you happen to be one of them.”

“Aw, Baku!” Her lips pull into a smile as she nestled into his side, laughing as he grimaced and attempts to scoot away. Too bad for him. He’s cornered. There’s no escape, “who’d have known that you were actually nice!” 

Bakugou bristled at her words, pressed against the side of the couch with no room to further scoot away.

“Nobody’s gonna believe you, even if you tell them this happened,"  He stopped trying to scoot away (not like he had the space to anyway), instead resting a spare hand on her arm, for both personal space and in a weird way to show affection, “you have no proof.”
She giggled, sitting back up as she wiped the tears from her eyes. Bakugou took his hand off of her arm, his arms coming to rest in his lap. Call him a sap, but Mina really was beginning to grow on him.

“Thanks, Baku,” she looks up, yellow eyes shining in the dark, “I really appreciate it.” 

It wasn’t one of those looks that she usually gave him- one of the ones that just gave away that she was plotting something. Even in the dark, he could tell she was being sincere. 

“Tch, Whatever,” he looked away, arms crossed over his chest as he looked elsewhere- legit anywhere but the grateful girl next to him.

He really didn’t know just when he became the goddamn therapist of the group, be it for when Kirishima came to him for stupid shit, when Kaminari came to him for dating advice(Why him? Why? What?), and now Mina with all of this. The day Sero comes to him is the day he dies.

Honestly, though he did find it a bit irritating, he didn’t mind the way that his words made them smile, no matter how colorful his vocabulary seemed to be.

Call him a sap, I dare you, no one will ever believe you.

He watched as she collects the papers that had been scattered across the floors, tempted to help her but, at the same time, realizing that his ego has already been hurt enough for tonight.

“I’m probably going to head to sleep. Sorry for bothering you,” she smiles sheepishly at him, something so uncharacteristic yet so Mina at the same time, that he can’t even bring himself to question it. He shrugged, trying to seem like he didn’t care even though it was obvious that he did. 

“Well then! Goodnight, person who respects me!”

He waited until she turned away before he responded, a soft smile that he couldn’t even bother to hide tugging at the corners of his lips.

“G’night, person that I respect.”

Take care of him for me

The second time was when Kirishima and the others hadn't come back from the internships. It was after he, Sero, Mina, and Kaminari had all met up in his room, all of them worried about Kirishima. 

It didn’t take long for him to kick them out after his little ‘rant’ (they had constantly teased him about his ‘respect’ for Kirishima, which he didn’t like. Not at all. He’s no softie. Hell no. Shut up Kaminari.).

It had been a few hours since then and, by now, everyone should’ve been asleep. Thank god, finally some peace and quiet- maybe even time to get some sleep for himself.

Nope.

It was midnight, and there he was: outside on his balcony and looking up at the stars. 

He’s always loved the outdoors.

He could probably blame that on his dad and all the times he dragged him out to go mountain climbing when he was younger. Those were probably the only times his parents got him to shut up about wanting to be a hero for a few minutes. Either way, they were times that he remembered fondly. 

He hears his sliding door shut from behind him, but Bakugou doesn’t need to turn around in order to see who it was. Black eyes, pink hair- the girl he had come to know was always breaking and entering. Why would now be any different?

“Hey,” Her call goes unanswered. He half-heartedly hopes that, if he doesn’t say anything, she’ll just give up and go away. But she doesn’t, he probably should’ve expected that, “surprised to see me?”

He hears her scoff when he doesn’t respond again, and the patter of footsteps behind him makes him want to jump off the balcony. 

“You really care about him, don’t you?” 

She says as the footsteps pause next to him, and now she’s standing beside him as she looks up toward the sky. It’s dark, the blues and purples mixing together as the moon shone brightly in abyss above them. Stars were scattered across the purple like splatter paint, assorted in random patches but pretty all the same.

”How the fuck did you get in my room?” He knows the goddamn well how she did, but it's a question to fill up the silence, to test whether or not she knows too much. 

She doesn't respond, but he hears the way she blows air out of her nose in a way that’s a little too loud to not be some sort of laughter. He's still looking up, eyes focused on the bright lights that lit up the purple sky. 

She was a city kid- someone who grew up in the bustling streets of the Chiba Prefecture. She’s used to it being bright and alive at nighttime, which is why she found it so hard to settle in at first. It was quiet here: safe and private (which, well, was the whole point of the dorms. But go off I guess). There was little to no light pollution, so you could actually see the sky and the stars! 

And, for once, with every worry in her mind threatening to come to the surface, she stayed quiet, letting the beauty of the sky distract her for a moment because, after all, as a city girl, she can’t deny that there’s only so much beauty within the smell of garbage and light pollution.

”That’s Libra,” just as she was about to let out a sigh, he spoke, eyes still trained on the sky with the same fiery passion that she’s seen during training, “it’s an air sign.”

Ignoring her incredulous look, he kept going: “it symbolizes loyalty, balance, strength, and hope.” He paused for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face, “it’s also Kirishima’s zodiac.” 

She didn’t know much about zodiacs - if anything. Sure, she’s seen some of the Instagram posts about them, and how some are compatible, and yeah, she knows that there’s one that corresponds to your birthday (but she can’t name any of the ones other than hers for the life of her, let alone the order).

He must’ve seen her curious look, because he shrugged.

“My old man and I used to go hiking all the time. I picked up that shit from him.”

“You’re a zodiac nerd? Never would have taken you for the type,” she elbowed him in the side, laughing when he finally drags his gaze away from the sky, his disgruntled gaze set on her instead. 

“That doesn’t mean shit,” he grunted, rolling his eyes, “at least I know what it means.” 

“Sure, sure,” she waved him off. She looked back at the sky, outstretching a hand as if she could trace the Libra constellation that she didn’t even know with her fingertips, “Even if I didn’t know, the fact that it means strength or something must mean something! They’re gonna be just fine, especially Kiri!” She leaned her head up against her free hand, a small smile on her face, “he’s the strongest dude I know - no offense to you.” 

He huffs, nudging her with his shoulder at the comment, but nothing too harsh. At least he didn’t blow up another one of her pillows.

They stared up at the sky in silence for a little while longer, but then Mina sighed, basically allowing her arms to dangle off of the railing. 

“I hope you know I’m not just here to talk about the stars and stuff,” she laid her head on one of her outstretched arms, looking forward instead of up at the sky, “I’m not stupid enough to come all the way up here for that.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he quipped, smirking smugly when she stuck her tongue out at him in response, “but yeah, I know.”

“Yeah, Kiri’s never really seen himself as ‘worth it,’ but I'm sure that you already know that,” she sighed, standing up straight once again. Her eyes met his, and for once they weren't the soft-edged, twinkling orbs he had grown used to seeing. He's known Mina for a while, and he knows that look. It's the look that tells people to fuck off, it's the look that sends villains cowering, it's the look that throws even Aizawa sensei off guard.

He calls her ‘Raccoon Eyes’ for a reason. Raccoons are wild, devious creatures that, while seeming soft on the outside, will absolutely fuck you up if you give them the reason to.

Using that for reference, This was the look that told people that Mina was not to be fucked with.

”Just, make sure he knows he's loved, alright? I don't think anyone else can do it better than you can, ” She smiled softly before she turned away, clearly not worried about him blowing her up when she's off guard. “I’m going to get some beauty sleep. Rest up, okay?”

He doesn’t answer, eyes still trained at the sky above him.

“Well then! Goodnight, future boyfriend of my best friend!”

Ah, so that’s what gives her a reaction.

“Shut it, Raccoon Eyes!”

She smiles when he doesn’t deny it, only waving off his comment as she slides open his door.

“Sure, sure. Goodnight, Katsuki Kirishima!”

She laughs as she hears the explosions from behind her. But that doesn’t stop her from sprinting. Hell no, she’s not dying tonight - not before she gets to be best bro (Or broman? Feminine term for bro that still gives off the ‘no homo’ vibe?) at her best friends’ wedding.

...The term is bridesmaid.

The third time was now, as he watches the way she’s slumped in her chair in Kirishima’s hospital room. Her hair, usually so bright and colorful, is now dull, matted, and messy beyond repair as if she hadn’t been taking care of herself.

For the first time since he’s known her, Mina Ashido isn’t the bubbly, giggly person that he’s come to know. She isn’t the bright trademark pink that’s he’s gotten used to.

For the first time since he’s known her, Mina Ashido is grey. 

“We pretty much grew up together,” she whispers, looking down at Kirishima’s still form, “though we weren’t exactly friends, we knew of each other, you know? It’s hard to see someone who is your friend, someone who you've known for nearly half of your life, end up like this.”

There’s a pang in his heart at her words. Because it’s true: she’s known him longer and is probably one of Kirishima’s closest friends (not even probably - he knows she is). His eyes focus on the grey walls in the room, zooming in on the shitty, plain wallpaper that he’s grown to hate because he knows that they’re supposed to be blue - not the pale grey that now swarms his vision. He feels the anger surge in his heart once again, not red - no, it won’t be that for as long as Kirishima is like this- it’s darker than black, the kind of black that sucks up all kinds of sunshine and happiness out of the world. 

“You think that’s bad? imagine being his fuckin soulmate.”  Even though he couldn’t bring himself to yell, the anger and frustration in his words are far too apparent, and he sees the way that Mina bristles out of the corner of his vision.   

“I’ve known Kirishima for way longer than you have, Bakugou,” she spoke, warning clear in her words, “and if you think that I’m not going to be worried about one of my best friends, then you’re wrong.”

“I never fucking said that you couldn’t be!” His grip on Kirishima’s hand tightens, and he has to physically stop himself from (literally) blowing up, “Don’t you have your own soulmate to worry about or something?

“..Yeah,” She seemed to deflate a bit at his comment, eyes momentarily drifting down towards her wrist, where her soul mark would undoubtedly be, “but it’s complicated.”

She had never been one to just go with fate; she goes by her own rules.

Black hair, pointy teeth. Honestly, she didn’t quite know when it had started. For real, she was walking through the hallways to get to third period and boom, her world had burst into color. She didn’t know him then, because they weren’t in the same class until 8th or 9th grade, so she just.. Lived with it until then.

(Maybe it was better that she didn’t know. The hopeless romantic in her filled those years up with fantasies where there was a secret prince that went to her school, and that she was the long lost princess who happened to be his soulmate. In hindsight, thinking back to all the scrawny preteen boys that went to her school, maybe there was no ‘secret prince’ after all).

Low grades aside, she wasn’t stupid. She figured it out soon after she met up with him at the cafe. It only took a few color swatches, a really awkward picture of Kirishima, and a sigh of frustration to figure it out. 

She would like to think that she’s the type of person who doesn’t hesitate to ask when something’s up, the kind that isn’t afraid to get under someone’s skin just to be in the know.  But, he had never mentioned anything. So yeah, maybe it didn’t go both ways.

Honestly, she’s surprised that she didn’t care about it as much as she probably should’ve. Maybe she would’ve pursued it had she not seen the way that Kirishima had looked at Bakugou the second he had seen him. 

But no, he’s still her best friend; she wasn’t going to ruin his happiness for the sake of some stupid paint strip on her wrist and for some stupid fantasy she had made when she was 13.

That’s why, after she put aside her feelings for the sake of the boy who made her see color for the first time, she was surprised to see her soulmate change colors

From a red to bright yellow. She didn’t really know when that change occurred either, especially when she (in a ‘slick’ way) asked Kirishima about his own soulmate color, and his was still red. So yeah, apparently soulmates could change. 

“I’d feel bad for the original guy if I hadn’t known that he’d be so happy because of it,” she chuckles at her words, but it’s impossible to miss the way her eyes lingered over Kirishima’s still form, and the way her hand twitched as if it wasn’t used to being empty,  “That aside, I’m happy for you two - I really am. Besides! Friendship is just another type of true love!” She looked over at him once again, this time with a smile that held no regrets whatsoever, “and that includes you, Blasty. I love you and I mean it.”

He looked down at him and Kirishima’s entwined hands. They fit together perfectly, in a way that only years worth of hand-holding experience would bring a couple. He ran his thumb across Kirisihima’s scarred knuckles - scars he had gotten from a particularly hard fight that he, Bakugou, Mina, and Sero had gotten involved in sometime during their second year. Mina and Sero were the ones who bandaged it up before the paramedics came. She’s the reason why that hand was able to be saved in the first place. 

(That didn’t stop them from going out to get smoothies afterward though, even if it did mean that they had to get Sero to pretend to be Kirishima’s dad. That was an interesting time).

“Mina,” She jumped a bit at her first name being said by him of all people, and quickly turned to face him, “thank you.”

“Wait a minute,” she grabbed his shoulder, shoving her face too close to his for comfort as she peered into his eyes, “Are you the real Bakugou? Are you his nicer identical twin or something?” 

“Shut the fuck up,” he mumbled, pushing her face back with his sweaty palm (earning a “gross” from her), “don’t get used to it.”All she did was smile broadly, wiping her sweat off of her face with her sleeve. 

They sat in silence for a little bit longer, kind of like the way they did when they were stargazing all those years ago. Except now, the stars were substituted for the subtle rise and fall of Kirishima’s chest. 

Like usual, it was she who interrupted the silence. 

”But really, Bakugou, he’ll be fine. He’s unbreakable, right?” she intertwined her hand with Kirishima's free one, giving it a gentle squeeze, ”he has us - he has you, Blasty.” he rolls his eyes at his old nickname, the nickname Kirishima gave him all those years ago. 

There's buzzing noise, and Mina jolts, hardly even hesitating before whipping out her phone. She smiles at the screen, scoffing before quickly responding to whoever the hell was texting her.

”It’s Kaminari. looks like he got lost in the hallways again,” she gave Kirishima’s hand one last squeeze before pulling away, scooting her chair out from next to his bed. ”Sure you'll be okay without me being moral support?” 

He rolled his eyes, ”I'm not a fucking baby, you know.”

”Okay then, Bitchboy,” she stretched, arms reaching above her head. Huh, how long had she been sitting there? It's dark outside the window, so it's clearly late. He's not surprised; his friends were loyal as hell.

Especially to Kirishima. 

”Time to save Kaminari’s stupid ass. Is this how Jirou feels?” she shook her head, chuckling as she straightened out. She looked back at him after a moment, all traces of amusement no longer visible on her face. ”But,” her voice is softer, more serious, something so not Mina, ”tell us if there are any updates, okay? Everyone's worried about him.” her eyes flicker back towards Kirishima still form, then flicker towards the heart monitor,  where the lines were barely, just barely going up and down. She looked at him, and those eyes have seen far too much.

They might be different, but, at that moment, Bakugou understands. 

“And, Bakugou?” Her black eyes are solid, unwavering, as she finally meets his eyes, “You have to know that you aren’t alone. All of us are here for you, okay?” Mina said earnestly, tilting her head a little to try to get Bakugou to look at her. Her words are quiet, but as he watches the emotions cross her face, he knows. Man, he hates being able to decipher what she means by looks alone. He’s allowed himself to get too close to these people. Damn it.

But, then again, maybe it’s kinda nice.

”Yeah, Raccoon eyes,” he smiled softly, clutching Kirishima's hand even tighter within his own. He knows that she gets it- that, besides Kirishima, she's one of the few that can somehow understand him, “I know.”

She smiled again, this time softer. Her phone buzzes, interrupting her stupor.  She didn’t even bother whipping out her phone, clearly knowing whatever Pikachu was going to say. 

 ”Duty calls. Wish me luck, Blasty.” 

He doesn’t respond as she turns toward the door, shoving her phone into her pocket as she reaches for the door handle. She takes a moment to look back at him, the boy shrouded by shadow in the dark room.

He’s fervently clutching Kirishima’s hand between his own as if trying to convince himself that he was actually there, as if he was awake and living instead of this coma-like state.

They’re still kids, and they’ve been through so much shit.

Take care of him, okay?

She remembers that promise from all those years ago when Kirishima was wrapped up in the internship stuff. 

Yeah, she thinks, he definitely has. 

As soon as he heard the shitty metal door click behind him, Bakugou let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

It was quiet now, without Mina’s constant chatter. She had always been the type of person who was able to keep the room bright and cheery, even when someone (usually him) was being a little bitch.

He reaches out, taking Kirishima’s hand in his own, rubbing the back of it in circles with his thumb.  Kirishima's hand, within his own, remained still. But his pulse is something Bakugou finds reassuring, is strong and steady when he feels for it as the beeping of the heart monitor not enough to reassure him of his boyfriend's fate. Dark eyelashes lie still against blotchy cheeks, and red hair fans out around his head onto the pillow beneath him.

Shit, he looks wrecked. 

Bakugou sighed, running a hand through his hair as he slouched in his seat, feeling the plastic uncomfortably digging into his back. He could only imagine what Kirishima feels like now. Shit- he should've been there, he should have been able to protect him. No, Kirishima didn't need protecting - he should've been by his side. 

But no, now Kirishima’s here, injured. And, though Bakugou knows that it isn't either of their faults, he fucking hates this feeling of hopelessness that has managed to find its way into his stomach, growing bigger and bigger each time he realized how much of a failure he is. 

His world is still bathed in grey, be it from the shock, or the bandage covering the other boy’s marked wrist. 

He remembers last time this whole hospital thing happened, when they were ripped away from each other- when Bakugou hadn’t fucking been there. There was Kamino, then the deal with Chisaki, and so many other fucking times. But now was different. Now it was all on him. He had been there, and now the love of his fucking life had legit died because of his incompetence. 

He bites down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood because god damn it there he fucking goes AGAIN.

His knuckle digs into his cheek uncomfortably from the way he was leaning on it, but he couldn’t bring himself to move because he deserved this - that little bit of pain that hardly matches up to the pain that Kirishima is no doubt in. His eyes scan the room all the same, and he sees things he hadn’t thought to notice before. There's an empty vase and a note on the desk near Kirishima’s bed, the note being the rules regarding floral gifts. Oh, he hadn’t brought flowers this time. Now, there’s nothing to snatch away in denial - nothing to really deny.

Those days were wild, full of complete and utter denial, shitty study dates, nightmares, fireworks, stars, and unnecessary (totally necessary) schemes carried out by the rest of the Bakusquad in order to get them together(accidental text messages included!).

Yeah, those were the good old days. 

“...I love you, you fucking idiot.”

He waited, once again hoping for Kirishima to finally open his eyes, but he was only met with the light hum from the machines in the room.

Chapter Text

Nighttime was a blur. Bakugou had fallen asleep with his head resting on the bed, Kirishima’s hand gripped fervently in his own.

He was sure Recovery Girl had woken him up at some point, probably chiding him for not taking care of himself while she worked on Kirishima’s injuries. He was too tired to really care, instead going right back to his place by Kirishima’s side the second she left.

He also remembered flashes of white, and faded red and green — nearly black — in his bouts of conciousness, along with whispered words along the lines of ‘Kacchan was worried about you, Shouto’ And ‘that’s the nicest thing he’s ever said about me’.

Personally, he didn’t really give a shit about any of that (though he did feel a little relieved to know that both Deku and Todoroki were okay after seeing how messed up they were after the fight). What he really cared about, however, was that he could see color again — though slightly muted, and that he could feel Kirishima’s pulse growing strong under his fingers.

At least Recovery girl wasn’t too harsh on making him go back to his room. Well, not as harsh as she usually was. Part of that was probably because he wasn’t Deku and didn’t end up in her office with life-threatening injuries every other week (For Bakugou, it was more like every other month!). That didn’t stop him but being a bit surprised that no one had moved him back to his room when he woke up.

Bakugou blinked slowly as he woke up, squinting a bit from the sudden assault of light on his bleary eyes. The brightness from the window and the chill in the room told him that it was around early morning, perhaps sunrise. Besides that, someone had wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. There was a rubber ducky pattern on it, and Bakugou only huff about such a childish design.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Bakugou looked up. Hero training and the Kamino incident made sure that he was always alert of what was around him, and his fatigue didn’t change that in the slightest. The room was devoid of anyone else, but Bakugou couldn’t help but notice how the room was slightly more saturated before — not necessarily brighter because of the light coming in from the window, but more colorful and full of life.

A hospital room. Full of life. Fuckin’ ironic, if you’d ask him.

He shifted so his head was leaning against his arms (which were still leaning against the side of the hospital bed) and looked up at Kirishima.

He looked a little bit better than before, though still a bit.. fucked up, for lack of a better word.

First of all, the redhead’s hair was a mess. Not purposefully messy in the way that he usually styled it — messy in a way that everyone knows that it hasn’t been brushed for a while. Kirishima’s hair meant a lot to him, considering he found it to be one of his “manliest” features. As such, Bakugou didn’t get the chance to touch it often (even though Kirishima is absolutely awful at bleaching his hair and it drives Bakugou INSANE), but he would now, because Kirishima’s stupid hair was covering his stupid face.

(The face that Bakugou thought he wouldn’t get to see again).

Bakugou reached up and brushed Kirishima’s hair out of his eyes, smoothing it down so that it flipped away from his face. When he wasn’t having nightmares, Kirishima’s face always looked peaceful when he slept, even when his arms and legs were splayed in the most peculiar positions. Bakugou smiled softly, and placed his fingers on the side of the other boy’s cheek.

As his hand trailed down, he lightly traced the scars the other boy had on his face. There was one from when the class pet (a mouse, which was odd considering that their principal was.. some sort of rodent-like animal) got out of the cage and gave Kirishima a good scratch when he tried to catch it and put it back in his cage. There was one on his jaw from when the muzzle part of his hero suit cracked during a battle and dug into his skin. Bakugou had his fair share of these up his arms from all the times his gauntlets exploded. There was also the one across his eye… Kirishima had told him how he got it when his first got his quirk, and how he hated it for a while because “Y’know, hardening isn’t all that great of a quirk.”

Bakugou didn’t think that those scars are stupid. If anything, those scars are part of the job and are something to be proud of (though the story behind the first scar might be pushing it a little).

..Kirishima wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if he told him, but Bakugou thought that it was all pretty damn manly.

Not just the quirk thing and his scars, but being able to overcome all that he has to become a damn good hero.

..Deku was the same way, but he would never tell him that either.

Kirishima’s nose twitched at the feeling of Bakugou’s caresses, and Bakugou froze, waiting for any other sign of waking up.

But there were none. After waiting for a moment with baited breath, Bakugou sighed, slowly bringing his hand back to his side.

He took Kirishima’s hand in his own once again, brushing his thumb across the back of it.

“Why don’t you just fuckin’ wake up already,” Bakugou huffed, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of Kirishima’s hand, “I miss you.. you idiot.”

Once again, there was no response, and Bakugou could only sink back into his hospital chair in defeat.

He must’ve fallen asleep again, because, before he knew it, he was blinking awake.

His first thought was that something had woken him, so he whipped his head around, looking to see if there was any possible threat.

There was none, so Bakugou relaxed a bit more, before feeling his hand he tugged down by something.

Shit, he was still gripping Kirishima’s hand. Knowing how tight his grip could be when he was stressed and how dangerous his sweat could get, he immediately lessened his grip on Kirishima’s hand, terrified of fucking up and being the reason why his boyfriend got hurt again.

That’s why he was surprised when Kirishima’s hand tightly gripped his hand back when Bakugou tried to pull away.

“Katsuki?”

If the grip on his hand was a surprise, so was hearing Kirishima’s voice. His voice was quiet, rough, as if not used for a long amount of time, and Bakugou found his eyes widening as Kirishima sat up, moving his hand — the one that wasn’t being held — and rubbing his eyes.

“Eijirou?” Bakugou asked, his voice hardly more than a whisper. At the sound of his name, Kirishima blinked sleepily, before the fanged smile that Bakugou had missed so much spread across his cheeks.

Still tired, Kirishima could only nod, before reaching two shaky arms out to Bakugou. Years of practice taught Bakugou what to do when the other boy did that.

Bakugou surged in and wrapped his arms around Kirishima, feeling the other boy wrap his arms around his neck in response.

“That’s me,” Kirishima said hoarsely, his forehead pressed against Bakugou’s, his grip around Bakugou firm and, though tired, his eyes were shining.

Bakugou smiled, a sob threatening to spill past his lips as he looked into Kirishima’s eyes and noticed just how red they were — how they brimmed with life.

The slight saturation of the room from before turned into something more. He saw red, the color of Kirishima’s hair in the same obnoxious fucking shade that he always hated but now he loved. Red was the color of the scars littering his arms, now faded but a constant reminder of what was and the hell just happened. Red was the color of Kirishima’s eyes, slightly hazy and unfocused but still there and brimming with happiness. It was the color of moonlit confessions and study dates that were more about the ‘date’ than the ‘studying’.

Red was their color.

After a moment of staring and smiles that could rival the sun, Kirishima winced and pulled away from Bakugou. Bakugou quickly released Kirishima, thinking that he was holding him too tight or something, considering he was still injured, but then he noticed that Kirishima was rubbing his eyes.

“Geez, there are barely any windows in here. But ‘s too bright,” Kirishima blinked, squinting a little before turning back to Bakugou, “colorful, too.”

“You idiot,” Bakugou, knowing that he could bask in the sunlight of Kirishima’s smile all day if the other boy would let him, “you know the only room with color and a view is a room with you in it.”

Kirishima playfully glared at him. But the glare fell short, as it always did when Kirishima saw him like this — soft around the edges, drenched in pale morning light and entire appearance sleep-mussed. Knowing his glare was a failure, Kirishima leaned back into Bakugou, brushing his thumb over the blond’s cheek.

Touching their foreheads together and leaninging into the touch, Bakugou looked into Kirishima’s eyes, making sure he knew the shade of red — Kirishima’s shade of red by memory so he would never be able to forget it.

He had come so close to losing him, and that thought was tearing him apart. Kirishima had nearly died because of his incompetence. He knew that he had told Mina all those years ago that it’s better to “Plus ultra, or some shit” than just to mope around. But DAMN, This whole situation was just so fucking shitty. It wasn’t a failed test either,  it was a life or death situation and—

As if sensing his turmoil, he felt Kirishima reach for one of his hands. On reflex, Bakugou tried to pull away, but Kirishima was faster.

“Hey,” Kirishima said, his voice quiet, though his grip on Bakugou’s hand remained firm, “is everything okay?”

Bakugou looked away from Kirishima’s eyes, instead down to their hands. His wrist burned where his color mark was, and he wondered if Kirishima’s did too.

(He also wondered if Kirishima also saw the world fade to black and white as he bled out in the forest that day — if he knew what it was like to have been blinded by his sun for years only to have it burn out in an instant).

“I thought you were gone,” Bakugou choked out, the sheer amount of self hatred in his voice mainly focused on himself, “I thought you were gone and that it was my fucking fault because I wasn’t able to protect myself or get help on time. So no, it’s not fucking okay.”

“It isn’t your fault!” Kirishima said immediately, wincing as he sat up a little bit. Despite Bakugou’s worried expression when seeing him in pain, Kirishima continued: “Really, Katsuki. It isn’t. I’m not going down that easily.”

Bakugou stared at him with narrowed eyes. In response, Kirishima rolled his eyes and reached out to him with his less injured hand, cupping the side of his face.

“To me, a manly life is one led without regret,” Kirishima smiled, swiping a thumb across Bakugou’s cheek, “and, I don’t regret anything I did for you for the world, Katsuki.”

Bakugou usually commended himself for his ability to not cry. If anything, he thought crying was stupid and hardly felt the need to do such. But here, being a fuckin’ baby be damned, was when he felt the dams behind his eyelids break.

“You fucking idiot,” Bakugou choked out, reaching up and running his hand through Kirishima’s hair, “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too,” Kirishima said, grinning at him with his stupidly STUPID fanged grin, before closing the gap between them and pressing his lips against his.

For as long as he could remember, Bakugou’s world had always been red. It was colored by the anger inside him that flared up at any sign of a challenge. The color of sparks running through his veins — of the bomb inside of him, his very own fuse, waiting to burst.

Though he had sworn that he hated it all those years ago, he had missed the color more than he ever would have known.

With Kirishima’s face cradled in his hands with his red locks spilling through the spaces between his fingers and red eyes teary, Bakugou smiled.

Though it took a long time, Bakugou knew that red had become his favorite color again.