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Some people feared darkness, other claimed it was the worst thing ever.
Was it really?
Kirishima found darkness silent, dull.
The throbbing pain that shook his body from head to toes, dissipating the darkness, was far, far worst. He slowly felt his limbs again, one by one, until he gained back enough lucidity to realize his eyes were closed.
It took all his strength to lift the heavy eyelids, blinking and trying to understand where he was and what was happening.
A sort of…cell? There was nothing in the small room.
He was chained, with the wrists pinned over the head and body hanging like a stuffed toy. He tried to harden, but nothing happen, as if he hadn’t a single ounce of power in him.
Heroes. Enemies. Explosions. Pain. Fire. Explosions.
Black.
“Katsuki…” he coughed as the memories surfaced, air scratching his lungs.
There had been an attack from the villains. People had died. Friends had died.
He, he had been kidnapped by who had once been his only hero.
“Katsuki?” he called again, hoping nobody would answer. Hoping it was all a horrible nightmare.
But the door slammed open, the smell of ash filled the cell and his eyes immediately locked on his captor.
Kirishima took a sweater from the wardrobe and sniffed it curiously. Widening his eyes, he burst into a happy laughter that could have lightened the world.
“What’s wrong, Shitty-Hair?” Bakugou asked scrunching his nose, head tilted to see what he was doing.
“Denki was right, all my clothes smell of ash and burnt wood,” he explained chuckling, giving him a mocking, accusing glare.
“Not my fault,” he growled, shrugging, “Fucking wash them.”
“I’ve just taken them back from the laundry.”
“S'till not my fault,” he was trying to hide a smirk, but Kirishima know it was there.
He ran into his arms and Bakugou caught him with an annoyed eye-roll, “It’s fine, Katsuki, I like it.”
“Good, you’re awake.” His voice was the same as Kirishima remembered, rough and low, but with a sort of fire underneath that made him shiver.
Kirishima knew he should have avoided making contact or he would have regretted it, but it was part of him and he let himself drown in Bakugou’s red eyes. They were the same, yet completely foreign.
Kirishima was laying on the bed with Bakugou hovering over him, callous hand brushing his cheek. His eyes roamed on his lover’ smiling face as if he was memorizing every speck, every detail. He caressed his lips, sighing.
“You’re beautiful,” he growled as if he couldn’t believe it and, at the same time, he felt the so proud about it.
Kirishima chuckled embarrassed, trying to turn his face, but Bakugou cupped his cheek and kept him still, eyes locked.
“I’m serious.”
Where was the warmth? The spark of life? The love? Kirishima could recall it in his memory, but there was none now.
Bakugou marched towards him, smoke coming from the clenched fists and teeth gritted. He stopped in front of the boy, coldly gazing at his body.
“Still not good enough,” he smirked without amusement.
Kirishima was panting on the floor of the gym, covered in sweat and dust. Bakugou was standing near him, a satisfied grin on his lips.
“Not good enough to beat me, babe,” he teased, poking his side with a foot.
Kirishima glared.
“I will be. I will, soon” he threatened, and Bakugou laughed.
“I can’t wait,” he provoked offering him a hand to stand up.
It felt like a slap in the face.
It was real, yet it couldn’t be him.
“Katsuki…what-why-I-” Kirishima couldn’t even find the right words. Because everything was wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
“You blacked out during the attack. I brought you here.”
Kirishima grimaced horrified.
“The attack-”
“We won.”
He felt a punch of nausea hitting him at the sight of his wicked smirk.
“We? We?” he choked, “What are you doing? Are you crazy? Stop this insanity!” he shouted, struggling against the chains. Why was he powerless? What had they done to him?
Bakugou gave Kirishima an unimpressed look.
“You still can’t accept it?” He mocked, crossing his arms, “After three months, this is pathetic.”
“YOU BETRAYED US!” He screamed, “OCHAKO AND DENKI WERE KILLED.”
“I know, I organized it. And yesterday, I killed the frog too.” Nothing, nothing in Bakugou could have ever hinted that once he had cared, he had called friends the people who had died against the Alliance of Villains he had joined.
“Tsuyu…?” Kirishima murmured as his body slouched lifelessly. Another friend who had lost her life, another tomb, another funeral, another… throbbing void.
“Why do we have to go to a stupid double date?” Bakugou muttered stomping down the street with a childish scowl.
“’Cause you like Uraraka and Tsuyu! And it’s fun doing something different for once!” Kirishima poked his cheek, and he hissed, before roughly wrapping an arm around the redhead' shoulders.
“I said they arethe only normal ones in our group of stupid friends,” he argued, making the boyfriend roll his eyes.
“For you, that’s a compliment.”
Something caught Bakugou’s eyes and he brought a hand to Kirishima’s neck; he picked the golden necklace with a red, small ruby as a pendant. He blinked at it, slightly surprised. His gift for their third anniversary.
“This way you will always have something that reminds you of me and you will stop whining when I go away on a mission.”
“That’s because they’re dangerous, you sappy tsundere. I get anxious when we’re not fighting together!”
“But I’m the strongest, babe, and I’m not going anywhere, so stop worrying, alright? Smile like your usual idiot-self.”
Kirishima panicked, holding hisbreath.
“Don’t-”
Bakugo gave a sudden tug and threw the necklace in a corner of the room. Face expressionless, eyes empty.
“That’s why you’re weak.”
Another piece of Kirishima’s heart shattered.
“I hate you,” he roared, tears falling mercilessly, “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”
At his words, something sparked in Bakugou’s eyes, and he grinned. In a swift movement, he grabbed the back of Kirishima’s head and pulled him closer. Their lips smashed together and his tongue easily slipped into his ex-boyfriend’s mouth.
Kirishima would have liked to scream, to fight, but his body recognized Bakugou. Years of memories flooded in his mind, erasing for a second the present.
Warmth. Passion. Skin against skin. The smell of burnt wood. A dance he could have never forgotten.
But then Bakugou pulled away, hands still fisting the red spiky hair.
“You love me,” he taunted sharply, “Or at least, your body does.”
Kirishima’s cheeks were red with shame, eyes on the floor as he searched the strength to lie and say that no, he hated him. But there was none, not anymore. He was just broken, broken, broken.
Bakugou clicked his tongue, annoyed, or maybe bored.
“Just because it’s you,” it didn’t sound a compliment, “I’ll give you a choice. Join us or die.”
Kirishima’s blood froze.
“Katsuki,” he called raising the eyes on him, searching for something, anything to hold on, “Katsuki, please, stop this. Come back.” He was begging, he was ready to do anything.
Bakugou's face was made of stone.
“It’s too late for that. Choose. You’ve until tomorrow.”
“I can’t…” He couldn’t. He could have never betrayed himself like that. Betrayed both of them.
“Villain? Being a villain is for the weak.” Bakugou grimaced, standing on the rooftop of the school as the sun died in a sky painted with pink and orange, “I’m a hero.”
Kirishima nodded, hand in hand with him.
“We’ll be the best heroes.”
He smiled, for once a genuine, warm smile, and pulled him into a hug.
“Just because it’s you, Ejirou, I’ll share the first place.”
“Then, I’ll kill you with my hands.”
And for the first time, after years of half-assed threats and empty curses, Kirishima realized he was saying the truth. He was going to kill him. Bakugou Katsuki, the boy he had wanted to love for the rest of his life, was going to kill him.
The boy Kirishima still loved.
The blond walked towards the door, leaving him there, in a hopeless despair.
“…why?” Kirishima didn’t even know what he was asking. It was the only word echoing in his empty heart.
Bakugou halted, hand on the knob. He turned slowly, with a sort of sad, broken smile on his face and the eyes forcefully shut.
“Because you are the only one who could ever make me change my mind, Ejirou, you make me weak” he whispered painfully, and for a second Kirishima hoped that it could be his chance, his chance to stop everything from shattering.
But then Bakugou’s eyes snapped open, and he knew there was no longer anything to save.
Bakugou Katsuki was empty.
“And I hate you for this, I hate you.”
“I love you, Ejirou. Now and always.”