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Kirishima has a tradition. Not anything big, like a religious or social tradition, though. This one is much smaller and much more personal.
It’s simple. Whenever he can’t sleep, he goes down to the dormitory kitchen and makes himself some tea. He does this most often whenever his insecurities come back to him.
You wouldn’t think it’s comforting to be awake at two in the morning with a mug of tea as your only companion, but Kirishima does. The stillness of the room combined with the bitterly sweet liquid in his hands always finds a way to calm him down. He does find the isolation aspect a little unsettling, but having to explain to anyone why he’s awake would be worse.
And tonight, he stays awake for much longer than he expected.
The night starts out as usual. Kirishima creeps out of his room, peeking to the left and to the right cautiously, and treads lightly to the elevator.
He ends up on the first floor just a few minutes later. The doors creak open and leave Kirishima staring at the familiar pitch-black void that is the common room at night. He steps forward as he always has, following the same path he goes down every sleepless night, using the moonbeams as his guide. He’s careful to make every action quiet enough that he wakes nobody, but not so quiet that he can hear his own thoughts.
He eventually makes it to the kitchen, only bumping into a nondescript piece of furniture twice. That’s a new record.
He opens the pantry door slowly and mutters “tea” to himself over and over as he looks. He scans the shelves for a bit before he finds it on the middle shelf, all the way to the right. It’s right where he left it last time.
He grabs the little box with a triumphant smile and sets it down on the kitchen counter, setting out a packet of vanilla chamomile. He then goes to a cabinet, finds the usual medium-sized pot, and fills it with water.
While reaching for a mug, he hears footsteps echo behind him. A shadowy figure slowly appears in the corner of his eye.
That’s strange. Nobody ever comes down here this late.
“...Hello?” Kirishima calls, desperately hoping it’s not a teacher.
“Shitty hair?” a familiar voice replies as the figure steps fully into the kitchen. The light cascades over the figure’s face, revealing a frowning Bakugou in its wake.
Kirishima heaves a huge sigh of relief. “Jeez man, don’t scare me like that. I thought you were Aizawa for a second.” He chuckles and finally finishes choosing a mug. “What are you doing up so late?”
Bakugou shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Kirishima frowns, finding that a bit unusual. He turns to steal a quick glance at the blond and immediately noticing the dark circles under his averted eyes. That’s even more unusual.
“What about you?”
Kirishima quickly pulls his eyes away before Bakugou can see him staring. He grabs the pot of water and sets it on the stove. “I...I couldn’t sleep either.” It’s not technically a lie, but not the full truth either.
“But why’d you go to the kitchen?”
“Oh, to make some tea.”
“...Tea?”
“Do you want some?” the redhead asks as he reaches over to turn on the stove. “A nice cup of hot tea always helps me when I can’t sleep.”
Bakugou mumbles something unintelligible, crossing his arms.
“Hm? I couldn’t hear you, dude.”
Bakugou rolls his eyes. “What kind?” he asks firmly. He seems even more cranky than usual, but that’s probably due to the lack of sleep. Kirishima decides to ignore it.
“Any kind you want,” the redhead says, gesturing to the container the other packets are resting in.
Bakugou’s gaze falls on the container. He then gives Kirishima a questioning look. “I didn’t picture you as a tea collector.”
Kirishima laughs. “Nah, this is Yaoyorozu’s stuff. She brought it from home to share with us.”
“Of course it’s hers,” Bakugou scoffs. “Fuckin’ rich people and their tea.”
“Well, do you want some or not?”
Bakugou sighs and averts his eyes back to the ground. “...Jasmine.”
Kirishima nods. “Jasmine it is,” he says happily as he reaches for another mug. Once he sets it down, he lets his hand sift absentmindedly through the packets until he finds the ones in the back marked Jasmine .
By now, the water is boiling. Kirishima turns off the stove, pours the water evenly into the two mugs, and drops the leaf packets into each.
“Here you go,” he says as he hands a mug to Bakugou. “Let’s go sit down.”
The blond takes the mug with a huff. “Why?”
”Since we’re both probably gonna be awake for a while, whaddaya say we hang out and talk until we get tired?” Kirishima offers. “Maybe we could get to know each other a little better.”
Bakugou scowls his usual scowl and furrows his brow. “And why would I wanna do that?”
Kirishima shrugs, unbothered by his suddenly aggressive tone. “I just thought it might be fun, y’know? I mean, I feel like I hardly know anything about you, even after all this time.” He begins to make his way to the couch.
“The only thing you should know is that I’m gonna be number one,” Bakugou grumbles, but he follows Kirishima and takes a seat on the couch anyway.
Kirishima pouts. “Come on, don’t be like that. We’re friends, right? Tell me some stuff about you.” He gently nudges the blond’s shoulder with his fist.
Bakugou suddenly seems awkward, like he’s never had the opportunity to talk about himself in a legitimate manner before. “...Like what?”
Kirishima takes a swig of his tea. “I dunno,” he says with another shrug. He purses his lips in thought for a moment, then his eyes light up. “What’s your favorite food?”
Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Of course you’d ask me something about food.” He’s clearly hesitant to answer. A couple seconds later, though, he makes an expression as if he’s thinking. “...Curry.”
Kirishima’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Really?”
“Mm. The spicier, the better.”
“Of course you like spicy food,” Kirishima laughs, obviously mocking the way Bakugou had responded to his question. “Me, I like milder stuff. Spice is alright, but I prefer it in moderation.”
“Coward.”
“It’s not my fault my tongue is sensitive!”
Bakugou just smirks.
Kirishima pouts for a second, then smiles back. “See? It’s not that difficult.”
Bakugou’s smirk slowly fades. “Mm.” He takes a long drink of tea and winces, most likely at the bitterness. ”Hey...Kirishima?”
The sudden use of his actual name startles the redhead. “Y-Yeah?”
Bakugou looks away. He crosses one arm across his body, resting his hand on his bicep. He’s obviously hesitating to speak, but Kirishima doesn’t know why. “Can I ask you something?”
His snarky tone has totally disappeared. Whatever he wants to ask must be pretty serious.
Kirishima finds this unusual, but he can’t lie and say he’s not curious. “Of course. We are sharing stuff, after all.”
That reply doesn’t seem to ease Bakugou’s nerves even a bit, but he tries to ask his question anyway. “Do...do you…?” He trails off as his shoulders bunch up by his neck. He grumbles out a sigh. “Do you ever get nightmares?”
To say that Kirishima didn’t expect it would be an understatement. The question itself partnered with the blond’s sudden timidness was a two-hit combo straight to the heartstrings. He looks so shy. So...out of character.
“Um,” Kirishima stammers, so taken aback that he needs a second to think. “No, not really. I don’t think I’ve had a nightmare since I was a kid.”
Bakugou seems to wince at the word ‘kid’. Kirishima can hear him curse under his breath. “...Of course not.”
The redhead frowns. That’s an unusual response. “Huh?”
“Tch,” Bakugou scoffs. “Just forget about it.”
He looks a bit anxious now, but Kirishima doesn’t get why.
“Uh, what are you talking about?” he asks, trying to sound as respectful as possible.
Bakugou’s hand tightens on his bicep. He lets out a small grumble and averts his eyes even further. “I told you to forget about it,” he says through gritted teeth.
Kirishima’s frown deepens. For whatever reason, Bakugou’s whole demeanor has changed in less than a minute. He almost seems nervous. Bakugou’s never nervous.
What happened to make him act so out-of-character?
Kirishima has an idea, but there’s no way it can be that.
But as he analyzes the blond, along with what he said, the realization hits him. It is what he thinks it is.
“Bakugou...do you get nightmares?” he asks cautiously.
The blond’s body seizes up as a visible shudder runs down his spine. “I-I didn’t say that.”
Kirishima’s brow twists up. “Yeah, that’s why I’m asking if—“
“Shut up!” Bakugou retorts, voice suddenly jumping to a shout as his fists clench. His jaw tightens in a way that shows he’s trying to restrain himself from yelling. “Just...stop it. I don’t get nightmares. I don’t get stupid, childish shit like that, so stop fucking saying I do.”
The disdain in his voice is obvious, but Kirishima can’t tell who it’s directed towards. It doesn’t seem like he’s really that mad at the redhead, but who else would he be mad at? Himself?
Kirishima tilts his head slightly, eyebrows twisting up in concern. “I’m not saying that you get them. I’m just asking because I care about you,” he coaxes truthfully. “It’s not stupid, Bakugou.”
Bakugou makes an expression like he’s trying to think of a response. However, rather than respond to Kirishima’s words, he stands up from the couch and says, “I’m going to bed.”
“W-Wait a second!” Kirishima calls, standing up himself. “You can tell me about stuff, you know. I won’t judge you.”
Bakugou glances over his shoulder, blood-red eyes glowing with a mix of emotions in the darkness. At first, Kirishima flinches at the obvious fury. But as he looks closer, he sees something else. Is that...fear?
Before he can know for sure, the blond turns away. “There are some things that I’d rather die than tell you about.”
And with that rather cryptic response, Bakugou heads off to the elevator, leaving an even more worried Kirishima and a cold cup of tea behind.
A few days later, at about two in the morning, Kirishima has homework to do. He’s trying to concentrate, but he can’t help but think of Bakugou’s strange demeanor the other night. It’s around the same time he had run into the blond in the kitchen. It would almost be a fond memory if he wasn’t acting so strangely. He frowns, trying to push it aside and focus on his assignment.
All of a sudden, a frantic, rather loud knock sounds off at Kirishima’s door.
The redhead jumps in his chair. He definitely wasn’t expecting a visitor this late, and that knock doesn’t sound familiar.
He frowns. “Uh...come in?”
As soon as Kirishima says that, faster than his brain can comprehend, the door slams open and a familiar figure stumbles into the room. It takes him a second to realize who it is.
“Kirishima,” Bakugou mutters, almost unintelligibly through his breathy tone. His usually aggressive eyes are now pleading for help, as if he was trying to run away from something. He hobbles towards Kirishima, almost collapsing into him, and grabs tightly onto the redhead’s shoulder.
“W-Woah there, I gotcha,” a startled Kirishima stammers as he places his hands on Bakugou’s shoulders to hold him up. He briefly glances at his own shoulder, then looks to Bakugou’s face. His eyes widen as he slowly takes in what he’s seeing.
It’s obvious that Bakugou is not okay. He’s hyperventilating - which is already bad enough on its own, but his body is shaking like scaffolding in an earthquake. The areas under his eyes are even darker than before and his jaw is clenched tight.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Kirishima asks, trying to keep his voice stable. “Are you alright?”
Bakugou manages to stand a bit more upright. He pauses for a second to try and catch his breath. It doesn’t work. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but it seems difficult to do with how heavily he’s breathing. “I...I...I think…I think I’m having a panic attack,” he forces out, hurriedly, as he grips somehow even tighter onto Kirishima’s shoulder.
“Slow down,” Kirishima says quietly. “Tell me what happened.”
Bakugou’s chest heaves up and down as he breathes. He pats Kirishima’s shoulders as if he’s trying to make sure the redhead is real. “I...it was a nightmare, like a flashback,” he almost whispers. “I was back...back in middle school, when I-I...I got attacked by that slime bastard.” Nearly every word he speaks is punctuated with a loud, heaved breath.
“A flashback?”
Bakugou nodded frantically. “It-It was the same as back then.”
The more he explains, the more concerned Kirishima gets. He can’t just rush the blond, though, so he waits for Bakugou to keep talking.
It takes Bakugou a second of even more hyperventilating — which Kirishima really wants him to stop doing — but he eventually continues. “It was like I was reliving the whole thing. I...I was walking down that stupid road, and...and got caught by that stupid fucking monster,” he expounds, eyes flitting back and forth across the room in obvious fear. “He forced his disgusting, slimy body all over me and suffocated me, and—and I couldn’t breathe, and—“
The more he talks, the more effort he uses. Kirishima can hear the panic in his voice loud and clear. He can see it perfectly in the blond’s eyes, even in the dim light. He quickly realizes that letting Bakugou keep going like this isn’t going to be good. “Hey,” he calls, patting the blond’s tense shoulders. “Slow down. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
Bakugou now looks to be on the verge of tears. He tries to slow down and focus, but the obvious sobs building in his throat seem to block the opportunity. “I...I can’t get it out of my head. Even now, it...it feels like I can’t breathe.”
Kirishima can’t deny the ache in his heart, but he has to ignore it. He has to calm Bakugou down before he thinks about himself. “Hey,” he repeats, firmer than before but still kindly. “You can breathe. The slime guy is dead. You’re okay, I promise.”
The blond sniffles and gulps back the lump in his throat. He draws in a long and shaky breath, then reverts back to hyperventilating. It’s obvious that he’s still having a hard time distinguishing what is real and what isn’t.
Kirishima begins to rub the blond’s shoulders while repeating, “It’s okay” as slowly and gently as he can. He isn’t sure what good it does, but he can’t just stand there and watch.
Eventually, Bakugou’s breathing somewhat evens out. He swallows again, letting his tear-filled gaze slowly drop to the ground. His body leans a bit forward as if the exhaustion is just now catching up with him. His grip on Kirishima’s shoulders lessens, but he doesn’t let go just yet.
Kirishima lets one of his hands rest by his side. He keeps the other one placed gently but firmly on the blond, softly stroking it with his thumb.
The room falls silent except for Bakugou’s breathing, along with an occasional sniffle. He reluctantly lets go of the redhead and lets his arms hang languidly next to his body. His shoulders bunch up as he tries even harder to restrain himself from crying. He covers his mouth with the side of his hand, which is balled up in a fist and trembling.
Kirishima’s eyebrows twist together above a crestfallen gaze as his own stature shrinks back. He desperately wants to say something, but nothing he thinks of seems good enough.
His chest already aches for Bakugou enough before he sees the tears the blond tried so hard to stop stream down his cheeks.
Then he lets out a quiet sob, and an invisible hand reaches into Kirishima’s chest to squeeze his heart like a stress ball. A part of him debates pulling the blond into a hug — honestly, it looks like he could really use one — but he decides against that. He doesn’t want to risk upsetting Bakugou even more, but can’t just sit there and watch. There has to be something he can do to help.
It takes a second, but eventually something clicks. “Hey,” he calls quietly. The blond’s glittering eyes meet his, and he tries to ignore the regrettably familiar squeeze in his chest. “Let’s go outside.”
Bakugou sniffles, furrowing his eyebrows just a tad. “Outside…? Why?”
Kirishima gives him a gentle smile. “I think some fresh air would help.” He stands, reaching his hand out to pull the blond up.
Bakugou goes silent for a moment. Then he sighs as he wipes his eyes. He slowly grabs onto Kirishima’s outstretched hand and lets the redhead pull him up with little resistance.
Once standing, the two just stand there for a minute. Bakugou hasn’t let go of Kirishima’s hand yet, and the redhead is staring at him awkwardly.
He frowns. “What?”
“Uh, you don’t have to keep holding on,” Kirishima says with a nervous chuckle. “You can let go now.”
Bakugou still doesn’t let go. Instead, he laces his fingers with Kirishima’s and squeezes. “...No.”
There’s an undeniable hint of sadness in his voice that hits Kirishima right in the chest. He sighs. It’s kind of embarrassing, but if holding his hand makes Bakugou feel better, then Kirishima surely isn’t going to deny him of that.
He ignores the skip in his heartbeat and gives the blond’s hand a squeeze in return. “Let’s go.”
As they walk out of the room, they stay completely silent. The only noise Kirishima can hear is his own heart buzzing from Bakugou tightly clinging to his hand.
He gently pulls the blond along as they climb up the staircase, being careful to stay quiet.
“Why aren’t we using the elevator?” Bakugou mutters, voice just above a whisper.
“You’ll see,” Kirishima replies cheekily.
When they reach the top of the stairs, they come across a door. A small sign hangs on the front that reads Roof Access.
“I found this door back when we first moved in here,” Kirishima explains, seeing a confused expression on the blond’s face. “The elevator doesn’t come up this far, so I had to take you using the stairs.”
“The…roof?” Bakugou mutters.
“Yep,” Kirishima replies with a smile. “I come out here sometimes when I wanna think or when staying inside doesn’t seem appealing.” He puts one foot outside, waving his hand in a come over here motion.
Bakugou reluctantly follows the redhead outside. He frowns. “Are we allowed to be out here?”
Kirishima shrugs. “I dunno, but it should be fine. I mean, if they didn’t want us to hang out up here, they probably would’ve locked the door or something.” He begins to walk across the warm pavement, Bakugou following close by, and heads toward a lone metal bench that sits off to the side of the area. Kirishima sits down, the cool metal contrasted against the warm air causing a chill to run down his spine. He pats the area next to him with a smile.
Bakugou hesitates for a moment, then he sits down. He glances at the redhead, whose eyes are already completely locked onto the sky, and sighs.
For a second, everything is still. Then Kirishima feels something strange on his right side. He looks down and sees Bakugou cuddling up against his arm, nuzzling his shoulder into the redhead’s.
“You cold?” Kirishima asks with a small laugh. It’s impossible to be cold in this kind of weather, so he asks it like a joke.
Bakugou’s body tenses as if he didn’t expect Kirishima to notice. For a moment, he doesn’t speak. He lets out a little huff as he tries to find the right words. “...Yeah,” he eventually grumbles. It’s a hesitant reply, but a serious one nonetheless.
Kirishima knows for a fact that he isn’t cold. He can tell from how warm Bakugou’s skin feels against his, almost as warm as the weather itself.
Even so, he’s snuggling into the redhead’s side as if he would literally freeze without the contact.
With a flushed face, he decides to play along. “Um, here,” he mutters as he tries to pull his arm free.
“Hm…? What’re you doin’?” Bakugou mutters back. He scoots over, just barely enough for the redhead to move his arm.
Kirishima replies by wrapping that arm around Bakugou’s shoulders. When the blond tenses and looks up at him with a startled expression, he smiles and asks, “Didn’t you say you were cold?”
Kirishima is pretty sure he sees a haze of pink on Bakugou’s cheeks, but he turns away before he can tell. “...I did,” the blond mumbles as he leans back into Kirishima. He does so tentatively, as if he’s nervous. He seems to relax fairly quickly, though, as he realizes the redhead isn’t going to do anything.
After a moment of no movement whatsoever, he slowly lets his head rest against Kirishima’s shoulder. Kirishima looks down at Bakugou with a soft smile.
“Hey, um...I’m really glad you told me about what happened,” he says gently, stroking the blond’s shoulder with his thumb.
Bakugou frowns. “Eh?”
“Seriously, dude.” Kirishima lets his hand wrap around Bakugou’s shoulder. “I’m glad you can trust me. I know I’m not good with advice, but I’ll always be here if you need to talk.”
“...Yeah, whatever,” Bakugou grumbles, nuzzling a bit further into the redhead’s shoulder. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Kirishima replies cheerfully.
The two lull into silence, the only noise being the soft summer wind gently grazing both of their faces. Bakugou doesn’t move, even a little bit, from his position. It doesn’t seem like he’d be that comfortable, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Neither does Kirishima.
A couple minutes later, Kirishima finally recognizes that it’s probably around three now. And he’s starting to get tired. ”Let’s go back inside,” he suggests. “It’s really late.”
Bakugou doesn’t reply. He doesn’t even make any indication that he heard what Kirishima said.
“Uh...Bakugou?” the redhead calls, gently poking the other boy’s shoulder.
Still nothing. Nothing except a noise that sounds a bit like snoring.
Kirishima frowns and cranes his neck forward to look, eyes widening when he sees Bakugou’s face.
His eyes are closed. His mouth is resting slightly agape and his weight seems to be sinking even further into Kirishima’s. Yep, he’s definitely asleep.
Kirishima can’t help the blush forming on his cheeks when he sees just how comfortable Bakugou is. It’s quite impressive how fast he fell asleep, especially after what happened.
For a second, Kirishima decides that he’ll let the blond sleep. Then he remembers that it’s still 3 o’clock in the morning, and they have class later, and he snaps back to reality.
“Bakugou, wake up,” he urges, shaking the blond’s shoulder.
Bakugou’s eyes slowly flutter open. He frowns. “Eh…?” He raises his drowsy eyes to Kirishima’s, raising an eyebrow in confusion.
Kirishima gives a slightly awkward chuckle. “You fell asleep, buddy.”
Only now does Bakugou realize what position he’s sitting in. Except he’s too tired and out of it to care. “Oh.”
“Come on,” Kirishima says. He makes to stand up, gently pushing Bakugou to the side.
Bakugou rubs his eyes as he yawns. He slowly stands himself up, stumbling a bit as he does so. Kirishima chuckles and holds his hand out as he did when he brought the blond out here. And as he did before, Bakugou lets his fingers intertwine with Kirishima’s as they walk back inside.
It doesn’t take that long to reach their floor of the dorms. Bakugou can’t help himself from leaning into the redhead’s body, though he’s trying to stay as stable as he can.
When they reach the door, Kirishima is the one to open it. He basically carries the blond into his room. Bakugou doesn’t seem to have any problem with that. He doesn’t give any resistance as Kirishima sets him down in his bed.
Once Kirishima makes sure he’s completely on the bed, he makes to pull away, but a sudden vice grip on his wrist prevents him from doing so.
He looks up, wide and startled eyes meeting a sleepy red gaze, and his face flushes.
“Stay,” the blond croaks. His voice is so small that if Kirishima was any further away, he wouldn’t have heard it.
Kirishima’s eyes widen. “I, um...you want me to stay here?” he says, pointing to the bed.
Bakugou nods, maintaining solid but obviously forced eye contact through a heavy-lidded gaze.
Kirishima would love to say that the blond’s feeble nod absolutely did not bring back the chest squeezes. He’d also love to say that he doesn’t find anything about this sudden clinginess cute. He’d be lying in both cases.
After a second of pure silence and awkward staring, Kirishima sighs. “Okay.”
This response seems to surprise Bakugou, whose eyes open a bit wider. He gestures to the rest of the mattress with his head. “Come on,” he mutters, almost inaudible through the thick drowsiness in his tone.
Kirishima gives him a small smile as he climbs onto the empty side of the bed. He plops down with a huff, making brief eye contact with the blond.
“...Closer,” Bakugou whispers.
Kirishima frowns for a second, then scoots a bit over.
“Closer,” Bakugou repeats, a slight pout gracing his lips.
Kirishima’s entire face flares pink as he slowly realizes what the blond wants. He gulps back a lump of uneasiness and cautiously scoots even closer to him. Very reluctantly — and awkwardly — he drapes his arms around Bakugou. “This okay?”
“Mm.”
Soon after, Kirishima feels two hands weakly gripping at his back. For a second, he tenses up. Then he smiles. Bakugou really is cute when he lets his guard down.
“Goodnight, Bakugou,” Kirishima mutters.
The blond doesn’t respond, as he’s already asleep. Kirishima just chuckles and holds him tighter. He eventually drifts off himself with a confident smile. This way, he’s not going to let any nightmare happen again.