Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s Saturday morning. Kirishima and Bakugou are walking back from their usual sparring session. They’re going over what each of them should be careful of and focus on to improve and thus don’t take notice of the other two guys that are approaching them from the opposite direction.

They’re tired from their extra training and they were on school grounds. There is no reason to have their guard up. It’s ridiculously easy really, to catch two of the strongest students of the hero program by surprise.

It comes out of nowhere. No matter how good of a fighter Bakugou is or how honed his instincts and reflexes are, he never stood a chance. It only takes a single fraction of a second and an unsuspicious touch for him to go down.

There is a collision of sorts; someone is suddenly bumping into Bakugou’s shoulder and Kirishima is bracing himself to hold the explosive boy back and spare the unfortunate souls that would have to face his wrath their physical and psychological well-being. Instead, he is met with the unprecedented sight of his best friend’s body giving up on itself as Bakugou promptly passes out cold right next to him before he even has the time to process what it happening.

Bakugou lands with a painful-sounding thud and Kirishima only needs a moment to take a defensive stance between him and the two unfamiliar guys still lingering a few feet away. One of them is wearing a smug smirk while the other looks less cocky but still satisfied with the current situation. Kirishima can feel himself losing his cool at the way they’re looking down on Bakugou.

“What the hell did you do to him?!” he demands in the coldest tone and with the most intimidating gaze he can muster. If anything, somehow the conceited one seems even more pleased at that.

“That arrogant bitch had to be taught a lesson. Always acting like he’s so damn better from everyone, like he’s flawless and doesn’t have any weaknesses, when he’s just a rude ass motherfucker with a flashy quirk. ” Kirishima’s skin unconsciously hardens from the boiling rage building inside of him, but he forces himself to calm down. He needs information. Plus, he knows everyone in the hero program and has never seen either of them, so they must be in general studies. He can’t afford to start a fight here when they can’t defend themselves against him. He’s the one who will most likely get in trouble.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“We’re merely helping him gain some self-awareness.” He answers cryptically with a sharp grin. Kirishima takes a deep breath and clenches his hands into fists to not punch the asshole in front of him. Patience, he reminds himself. Patience.

“What does that even mean.” He tries again, thoroughly unimpressed. The other boy, the least obnoxious one that seems to be getting fed up with his insufferable partner as well takes pity on him and actually offers some useful insight.

“I used my quirk on him. It puts the person in a dream-like state trapping them in their worst fears.” He explains. Eijirou feels his stomach drop. His heart is hammering violently inside his chest and all the anger is immediately replaced by pure and unfiltered panic. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

There is no way this could end well. Bakugou Katsuki does not show fear, not to others. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t conscious of it himself. Katsuki knows fear. He has stared at it in the eye, suffocated with it in his lungs, been poisoned by it in his mind. He has faced it and he has run away from it.

He has had too many horrific experiences to naively wish he didn’t.

Being forced to deal with all of that when he didn’t want it though? When he wasn’t ready for it?

Fuck Kirishima needs to do something right now.

“Wake him up!” he orders frantically, his desperation making the one who used his quirk raise an eyebrow while the other besides him sneers.

“Hell no! That prick needs some humbling and I’m having too much fun watching him down in the dirt where he belongs.” Kirishima gives him a deadly glare that cuts him mid-laugh. He scoffs and finally takes a hint and shuts up. 

“You need to wake him up.” He sternly tells the tall boy with the bored expression that had caused the whole ordeal.

“As much as I would love to-” he starts in a voice that clearly indicates he would not, “-I can’t. my quirk is to trap them there. I don’t control what happens after, that’s on them.”

“What?”

“It’s up to him to get out.” He shrugs.

“How?”

“Well, there are two ways. You either have to face your fear and overcome it, or realize what’s going on is not real and break the illusion. Most people don’t take more than a few minutes actually.”

“It’s already been longer than a few minutes!” Eijirou points out in worried exasperation, to which he receives an unconcealed eye roll.

“Yeah, so he will probably wake up any minute now. Which means this is my cue to leave. I’m not waiting to get beaten by a guy with an explosion quirk and serious anger issues.” He makes to turn around and walk away, but is stopped by Kirishima’s voice.  

“Like hell you are.” He stops him by grabbing his wrist. “You’re not leaving until I know Bakugou is okay. I won’t let him hurt you, but you are the only one who knows how this works and if something goes wrong, I’m not running around looking for you while my best friend is forced to endure his worst nightmares.” Kirishima’s words leave no room for debate and the boy sighs in frustration knowing this is something he can’t win.   

“Fine.” He resigns.

Kirishima starts pacing back and forth anxiously.

They wait.

It all starts with a pair of hands. They look elegant at first; they reach out for him carefully, gently, lovingly. Then they land on his skin. It’s quick and unexpected and Bakugou doesn’t realize what has happened right away. He blinks bewildered at the offending palms and the vaguely familiar, shadowy figure that owns them. His left check burns.

Oh. She slapped me.

He barely has any time to process the newly found knowledge before those hands return. They’re vicious this time, ruthless and violent and unforgiving. They grab at his hair, pulling roughly on the strands and knocking the back of his head hard. They punch at his ribs and shove him to the ground before going back to echoing slaps at both sides of his face along with words that cut deeper than the stokes.

Bakugo wants to make it stop. He wants to get up, wants to fight back, wants to trash, scream, protect himself against all this pain, but his body won’t comply. His limbs feel too short and too weak and the shape looming over him seems so much bigger than him. His voice won’t come out to cry for help even when he can hear the sound of the sobs tearing through his burning throat.

He can’t discern who it is, standing above him landing the hits. But even so, he knows. He knows those hands, that voice, these eyes. He closes his own to escape the disappointment and disgust he finds in them. He lies there apathetically, surrendering himself to taking blow after blow.

He has a strange sense of déjà vu.

“So, how exactly does your quirk work?” Kirishima asks after a few more minutes of restless waiting. He has sat down by now, settling on the ground and placing Bakugou’s head on his lap. It’s only the two of them. The second asshole took off when he realized watching someone basically sleeping and insulting an unconscious person wasn’t that fun after all.

“Like I said, it’s kind of like a vivid dream. My quirk grasps at a person’s fear and creates a scenario where you are forced to confront it. If you do, you get out. If you don’t…well, it’s different for everyone. Some people say that one scenario repeats itself, some have different simulations revolving around the same theme, some go back and forth between two or three fears until they manage to deal with all of them or they understand what’s happening isn’t real and break out of it. I think one guy I accidently used it on in middle school told me it was more of a combination of the ones he had.”

Eijirou can feel his chest tightening with every sentence. He doesn’t even know which one is worse. Every single possibility of what his friend might be going through sound like a custom-built, personal hell designed to destroy him.

Katsuki isn’t good with feelings. He avoids and ignores them even when he is aware of them until there is no room to push them back anymore. He puts up walls and claims he is fine and converts everything to anger so he can somehow vent out all the emotions he can acknowledge but not comprehend. He bottles up and up until the glass crack and he snaps.

The stronger something is, the more it shatters when it breaks.  

Eijirou doesn’t want to see Katsuki, one of the people he admires and cares about the most, break. Not after everything the poor boy has managed to endure without doing so.

He softly runs his fingers through spiky blond strands as his eyes well up in sympathy.

“Why would you even agree to this?” Eijirou asks in a pathetic whisper, barely keeping his voice from cracking despite the hushed volume.  “Like, I can tell the other guy was just a jerk, but you seem sensible enough. Why would you…” Kirishima shakes his head. He doesn’t understand. Why is everyone always against Katsuki? Yeah, his attitude isn’t the greatest and more often than not he is rude to people he is not close with, but if you don’t like him, you don’t have to be around him. Katsuki’s social interactions are already limited. Most people that hate on him have never even met him. Why can’t they just leave him alone? Why go to such lengths? “This is practically torture.”

Kirishima’s skin crawls at the irrationality of it. They don’t know him. They don’t know Bakugou Katsuki. They still want to hurt him.

“Well, I think this guy is full of himself too, but mainly, my classmate gave me 20 bucks. I had no reason to refuse really.” He responds indifferently as if his words don’t make Kirishima want to punch him as well.

“So you hurt someone just because some money were waved at your face?!” he spits out in disbelief.

“Calm down dude. My quirk is not even that bad. This usually only takes about five minutes and most people have fears like heights or spiders or something. How was I supposed to know your guy would be this difficult to wake up?” he says back defensively.

“Not even that bad?!” Eijirou shouts this time. “Katsuki is fucking traumatized! He already has enough nightmares as it is, but now you mix them all, give a stupid excuse of a way out and somehow think anything about this is okay?!”

The other boy at least has the decency to look guilty at this and doesn’t try to say anything else, probably sensing that Kirishima is on the verge of losing his temper altogether.

They sit in silence again with only background noise Eijirou’s deep inhales as he composes himself.

The beating eventually comes to an end and Katsuki would be grateful if not for the fact that as soon as the old hag was done with him, she kicked him out of the house. It’s dark and cold outside. He can hardly feel it. Something tells him to run, so he does. He is barefoot so the asphalt digs mercilessly into his skin. Still he doesn’t stop, he runs. He has no idea where he is going, all he knows is that’s he is supposed to get away from here.

His legs carry him on their own and no more than ten minutes later he finds himself catching his breath in front of a building he remembers all too well. He doesn’t want to be here either. It reminds him too much of a version of himself he despised with every fiber of his being. A version of himself he knows lives inside him even now.

Everything feels the same. He feels the same.

Katsuki wants to throw up.

He tries to will his body move again, but all the adrenaline is gone and he feels so fucking tired. He looks up at the moon, lips parted in a silent scream he can’t physically force out. He’s so fucking tired.

As his gaze falls back down, he catches sight of something, someone above from his peripheral vision.  He turns towards it, eyes landing on the roof. There is a person up there. They step on the ledge and with the new angle the moon provides just about enough light for Katsuki to make out a face.

It’s Deku. Deku is standing on the edge of the fucking rooftop.

Suddenly, not a single muscle on him cares about the exhaustion and before he even knows it, he is running again. He pushes forward as quickly as he can with every step trying to get to the stairs while yelling at the top of his lungs.

“Get the fuck back, shitty nerd!”

The yard is too large and his drained limbs can’t go fast enough.

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you fucking dare take another step, Deku!”

He won’t make it, he knows he won’t. He’s too far away. Too far out of reach.

“Fucking get down from there!”                                           

He watches as Midoriya tilts outwards tentatively, mockingly.

“I swear to God I’m gonna kill you if you jump!”    

He doesn’t appear to hear him, but for a spit second bright green eyes meet ferocious red ones and he smiles.

“Oi, Deku! No! Get back! Fuck. No!”

And then he falls.

“MIDORIYA!”

The resonating crack not two seconds later freezes Katsuki on spot. It was too rapid. He was too late. Midoriya Izuki is dead.

And it’s his fault.

He shuffles numbly towards the bloody mass of flesh and bones. His stomach constricts forcefully the nearer he gets. He can’t breathe normally. His chest hurts. Everything feels wrong and the only thing running through his mind is a pitiful reiteration of ‘I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I-’

There is a pool of blood around what’s left of the body. His knees wobble and he drops in it. He can hear his tears dripping in the red liquid. When did he start crying? His face is reflected on it. Is that even possible? He looks every bit of the monster he knows he is. He punches the ground in rage, unable to withstand the sight of himself and the repulse it brings him any longer. But instead of knuckles meeting solid concrete, his hand goes though and he is abruptly pulled to follow it. What the fuck is happening?

When he opens his eyes again moments later, the sun is up and unknown voices surround him. They sound around his age. He is still lying in a puddle, but this one is of mud and rainwater. A filthy boot is pressing down on the side of his head half submerging him in it.

The voices are laughing at him. Taunting him.

“What a worthless little bitch, doesn’t even have a quirk and wants to be a hero.” What? What the fuck does that mean?

“Completely useless.” A kick lands on his abdomen and it knocks the air out of him.

“Hey, maybe it’s better he doesn’t have one. Can you imagine this loser being a hero?” More laughs. Another kick in the back.

“Nah. No way dude, he’s too fucking weak.”

“You can’t even defend yourself, how would you save anyone?”

More snickers, more insults, more hits, more pain, more, more, more, more…

Katsuki doesn’t know how much time passes, but finally the boys get bored and stop. They spit at him before abandoning them in the dirt beaten black and blue.

He is resting on his side. With every trace of strength he has left, he drags his hands up in front of his chest and tries to produce the tell-tale sound of his characteristic explosions.

His skin doesn’t crack. His palms don’t burn. He can’t feel the nitro in his veins.

He knows they were right.

He is quirkless.

He can’t be a hero anymore.

The last silent tears escape him before he promptly passes out.

“He’s not waking up.”

“I can see that.”

 “It’s been over than ten minutes.”

“I know.”

“You said it would take five tops.”

“I know.”

 “Why the hell isn’t he waking up?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s happening?”

“I…I don’t know…”

Katsuki comes to by the feeling of something slimy crawling slowly onto his body, swallowing him up. He is still curled up on the ground and as the revolting substance envelops him, he finds it impossible to break away even though his limbs no longer feel as heavy and uncooperative.

He feels the terror choking him up almost at the same time the frigid sludge does. It creeps up on his chest, wrapping around his neck, diving into his mouth. It’s weighty and dense at the back of his throat. He suffocates with it. He can feel some of it prodding in his nose and ears before sinking in, depriving him of his every sense apart from sight. It doesn’t really matter. His eyes are open but he can’t see anything past the fear and the need to breathe.

Every attempt to struggle only pushes him further into asphyxiation.

No more.

Please….no more…

His eyes are covered at last and Katsuki gives up. He is engulfed by darkness.

It feels like he is suspended in void, the empty space constricting around him as if to crash him.

Time is still and fleeting at once. Katsuki’s mind is paralyzed. Everything aches. He awaits for perishment, wishes for an end. It doesn’t come.

Instead, sounds start drifting in; muted at first and deafening only seconds later.

He is still restrained but at least breathing is an option now. He gasps, desperate to suck in as much air as possible, but even when the oxygen wafts in, his jaw won’t bulge. A muzzle, he realizes. Katsuki feels like laughing. The bound me like a rabid beast.

The light is blinding above him and it takes a bit for his eyes to adjust. He is standing on a podium in the middle of a crowd like he is a spectacle, thousands upon thousands of people encompassing him from every direction. He can’t see where they end. They’re shouting something. They’re cheering.

He takes notice of the thick straps circling around his torso, the rough concrete digging against his back, the compact metal restricting his hands. Is my quirk back?

He wants to feel happy. He wants to feel relieved at the knowledge that maybe his life as a hero isn’t over yet, his dream hasn’t turned to dust. As he fights himself again searching for freedom though, the only thing he can feel is the pain of smoldering palms and melting skin.

He howls, but it comes out low and muffles behind the gag on his mouth. He thrashes around vigorously in a hopeless effort to break free. The crowd gains volume as he does. There are cameras and phones aimed at his distraught face. The humiliation is strangling him. It ebbs away the final pieces of himself he had managed to cling onto for dear life.

He wants to hide but there is nowhere to go. It’s him against the world and everyone thinks he is a monster.  

Maybe they’re right.

“You need to fix him!” Eijirou is desperate. It’s nearing twenty minutes and they’re both at a loss on what to do.

“I told you I can’t.”

“I don’t care! You put him in there, you pull him out!” he accuses.

“There’s nothing I can do.”

“Then think of something!”

“It doesn’t work like that!”

“I don’t give a shit how it works! What if he doesn’t wake up? What if he stays like this for days? He won’t be able to eat or drink anything. People die after a few days without water! He is basically comatose.” He stresses in a scream. The other boy is starting to panic as well now. This has never happened before so what’s wrong now? 

“I…I’m sure he’s gonna make it out.” He forces out unconvincingly.

“But what if he doesn’t?” Kirishima insists.

“Fuck.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck, this is getting bad. This is getting really really bad.” Eijirou absolutely shares the sentiment, but he has a feeling there is something he is not being told. He narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“What are you talking about?” the boy bites at his bottom lip apprehensively but relents, even though a bit hesitantly.

“Okay...so, you know how dreams sometimes feel like hours but scientists tell us they actually only last for seconds or minutes? My quirk is like that too. Our mind runs at a completely different speed. It’s insane really. But that means what for us is seconds or minutes for him could be hours or even days. No one has ever gone on for so long. I have no idea what could happen if he doesn’t wake up soon.” he admits reluctantly.

“Fuck.”

Kirishima stares at the motionless boy on his lap. He seems so small and vulnerable in his arms Eijirou is unceremoniously reminded that Katsuki too is just a kid, a sixteen year-old that hangs All-Might posters on his walls and pouts when he loses in video games –although he refuses to admit that- and snorts at stupid animals on YouTube.

People failed Bakugou Katsuki one too many times, such that he lost every ounce of trust he was willing to offer, especially towards adults. He has been disappointed and betrayed and hurt, and he expresses that turmoil through anger. But that is all it is, a venting mechanism. Katsuki’s anger doesn’t take up the entirety of his personality and Eijirou is often frustrated with the fact so many people seem to believe so. Katsuki is so much more than that and undermining his worth and effort is simply unfair. 

Bakugou isn’t really sure how he managed to get out. All he remembers is a dark portal slicing through space and those hands pulling in the same way they did four months ago. Only, this time he is not met with cozy bars and metal chairs on the other side. Instead, he finds himself in a scene awfully resembling Kamino Ward.

It’s night again. When the fuck did it get so late? He looks around hurriedly, trying to take in his surroundings. Ruins are littered everywhere; fallen buildings and damaged cars and fucking people. There are pros on the ground below him as well. He recognizes most of them, even with the dim light and the wounds they bear.

He can see Best Jeanist somewhere on the left, decapitated by his own threads. There’s Midnight and Ectoplasm and fuck, Aizawa is there. He’s lying in his stomach but the unruly hair and his infamous capture weapon are a dead give-away. It looks like practically every bone in his body has been broken, corps disfigured and twisted in all the wrong angles. Bakugou averts his attention when the sight becomes too much and the need to throw up resurfaces.

His eyes land on another hero amidst the chaos. All Might rests in a sitting position in his natural form. His torso has been impaled by a steel rod that takes up more than half his chest, his jaw is slack as his lifeless eyes stare into the ominous sky.  Katsuki’s blood runs cold.

Bakugou can’t think, can’t process what his eyes are seeing. Screams and sirens fill the city but none of this goes through either. It’s like his brain can’t physically comprehend the information supplied to it.

The pro heroes are dead. Everyone is dead.

His eyes dart around desperately, searching for a sign of movement, a sign of life. He doesn’t find one. He does, however, see an image that makes him stop in his tracks. There’s a poster of him. There are many posters of him. They’re nearly on every part of the area that’s left standing, the walls, the utility poles, the freaking traffic lights. Bakugou can even spot a couple of billboards and a huge screen displaying his face over the less high buildings.

‘#1 wanted villain’ they all read. The TV flashes videos of him fighting with the teachers he has come to respect, the heroes he always admired, ending them with no exception or hesitation.

Everyone is dead. I was the one who killed them.

The horror dawns on him at the same time as the scent of burning flesh invades his nostrils and he abandons the surveying of the rest of the scene to focus in front of him at last. His gaze immediately locks onto vibrant red hair when infiltrate his line of vision. Kirishima, he identifies in a heartbeat. He feels himself virtually overflowing with joy and relief before he abruptly freezes. Something doesn’t add up.

Shitty hair’s expression is pinched in pure rage and agony in a way Katsuki has never seen again. He lets his eyes trail downwards until they come across the foreign sight of his own palm enclosed around Kirishima’s neck and clenching down with enough force to completely shatter his airway.

Katsuki stares helplessly as his hand strangles his best friend, his only friend. He tries to will his quirk to stop, to move his arm away, to do something, but it doesn’t make a difference, because his brain still won’t fucking listen to him. As he struggles to dislodge himself from over Kirishima, he registers they’re sitting on the top of a pile of bodies. More dead people. More victims. More murders.  

Katsuki’s chest heaves and the bile in the back of his throat almost makes it out and the ringing in his ears makes his head feel like it’s going to split, but none of it matters right now because Eijirou is slowly losing fight where he is pushing against him, and Katsuki watches as the life is being torturously drained out of him. As he is draining the life out of him.

He is crying again, uncontrollably sobbing as he annihilates the only person who actually cared about him. The only person he cared about.

He screams as the form under him stills. His fingers flare. The stone cracks.

Kirishima Eijirou is not breathing anymore.     

Kirishima is officially panicking now. These have to be the most vexing twenty three minutes of his life. He’s even more worried than the time Bakugou was actually kidnapped, because at least then the short-tempered boy was conscious and able to defend himself against the danger. But this? Katsuki literally has no knowledge of or control over the situation and that’s in addition to having to confront and deal with everything that has been haunting him for months if not years.

His concern is only heightened by the way his friend’s breathing has been steadily speeding up for the past few minutes. He is pretty much panting at this point and by the look the student across from him had on his face, Eijirou is going to take a wild guess and say this is in fact not normal.

He is about to question this when Bakugou is suddenly gasping, back arching of the ground and fist somehow finding Kirishima’s shirt, clenching and unclenching in turns. The red-head observes with wide eyes as Katsuki’s expression turns to something utterly pained and distressed. A sobs wracks through his body and even though there are no tears yet, Eijirou knows by the agonized sound they will follow soon enough.

Katsuki’s breathing is still increasing, air being pushed out before even making it in.

He looks up at the quirk-user in front of him. He looks in a similar state of shock but without the emotional attachment and therefore mind-numbing worry that’s currently eating away every source of coherent thought from Kirishima, he appears significantly more put-together.

“We…uh, we should take him to someone. A teacher? You’ve got Aizawa, right? H-he could help. Let’s get some help.” He suggest uncertainly. Help sounds good and Aizawa-sensei is awesome so he will surely know what to do. Eijirou needs to believe that. He nods maneuvers Katsuki to carry him bridal style as he stands up.

“Follow me.” He throws from over his shoulder before just about sprinting to the dorms.

He can feel Bakugou’s body heaving rhythmically and he hasn’t even made it to the door when the first salty drop lands on the fabric over his chest. It makes his own eyes glisten with the overwhelming feelings of anxiety, sorrow, helplessness and fear coursing through him.

He swallows everything down and leans down to open the door with an elbow, not bothering to close it behind him after getting in. He can’t lose it now, not when Katsuki needs him.       

The moment he steps inside people are already looking his way and conversations are stopping. He heads straight for the common room shouting a loud “Iida!” as he goes. It’s not even noon yet so some of their classmates are probably still sleeping, but Kirishima can’t really find it in himself to care when the boy his is holding could possibly never wake up.

He sees the boy in question emerging from the kitchen a few feet away as he reaches the couches.

“Go get Aizawa. Now.” the strictness and urgency of his voice must clue him in on the severity of the situation because he thankfully understands why Kirishima addressed to him and uses his quirk to speed off to find their teacher.

He sits down tensely, adjusting Katsuki so he is once again settled on his lap, in a sitting position this time, so that his right side is pressed against Eijirou’s and his head is resting on partly exposed collarbones.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong with Blasty?” Mina asks. A small crowd has formed, Eijirou notices. They must have been in the kitchen when he yelled. He thinks there were a few in the other couches as well before he came in, but he is not sure who. Almost half the class is here and there are more joining from the direction of the elevator, most likely wondering about the commotion.

There’s Mina, Kaminari and Sero on the front with Jirou, Momo, Midoriya, Todoroki, Uraraka, Ojiro and Shouji standing a little behind them. The general studies guy is also hovering somewhere on his right.

Fuck, they’re not supposed to be here. They’re not supposed to see Bakugou like this. He’s going to hate it when he wakes up. If he wakes up, an unhelpful part of his mind provides.

“Is Kacchan okay?” Midoriya questions further hesitantly when enough time had passed without them getting any response. It effectively breaks Kirishima out of his thoughts. He forces the lump in his throat down.

“When Aizawa gets here.” He promises. They have no choice but to wait.

Mercifully, they don’t have to actually wait all that long. Aizawa arrives within minutes, Iida trailing just a few steps behind. By that time everyone except for Ashui and Aoyama, who have both gone home under special circumstances for the weekend, have gathered in the common room to watch the peculiar scene. There are confused glances and concerned whispers, but Eijirou can barely register anything else other than the shaking, crying mess in arms.

The second Aizawa’s eyes lay on Kirishima and the boy on his lap, he wastes no time to demand in an equally authoritative and gentle tone,

“Fill me in.”  

So they do.

Kirishima explains with the occasional interjection of the other students about what happened. He tells him what the quirk Katsuki is under does and how long they’d been waiting already until Bakugou has started acting strange. He tells him about how Katsuki won’t be able to get out of there on his own, about how they didn’t know what to do, about how they need to get him out of there as soon as possible.

Stunned eyes blink from the audience in disbelief, but Aizawa nods in understanding with every sentence. He looks pensive and mildly worried himself. It irks Kirishima; Aizawa-sensei never shows emotion, especially anything other than boredom or tiredness.

When Eijirou is done, Aizawa turns his gaze to Bakugou and activates his quirk. The room is dead silent for a few unbearable moments, but Bakugou’s eyes remain tightly shut. He makes another attempt, opting to erase the quirk straight from the source, only to be met with the same fate. Aizawa sighs like he already knew it wasn’t going to work but decided to give it a try anyway. He probably did.

“I’m technically not using my quirk anymore, so it can’t be erased.” The boy grimly explains, head hung low apologetically.

“Sensei…?” Kirishima starts apprehensively as the man in question rubs a hand over his face. “He’s going to be fine, right?”

Aizawa takes a deep breath before looking at Eijirou knowingly with something akin to pity.

“I really wish I could tell you that kid, but I’m afraid it’s more complicated than that. Unfortunately, Bakugou having to deal with his trauma isn’t our biggest problem here. From what you told me, Bakugou may feel like he’s been there for more than a day already, and though his body isn’t functional, his brain is. There is no way to tell how the high stress levels might be affecting him after such an excessive period of time.” He shakes his head in displeasure.

There’s a gasp from someone. Everyone turns to stare at Midoriya who in turn has huge green eyes focused on their teacher.

“Y-you…you don’t mean…?”

He sighs again in earnest, gaze locking down at the unconscious student uncharacteristically soft as he nods. “Bakugou could have a heart attack.”

The last thing Bakugou can recall is passing out at the top of a literal heap of dead human beings right after he murdered his best friend and the person he has accepted to have feelings for. His heart bleeds at the memory of his hand firmly squeezing Eijirou’s windpipe.

His eyelids feel unusually heavy when he tries to open them. He doesn’t really want to, wishes he didn’t have to, but the last couple of days have been absolute chaos and his instincts won’t allow him to let his guard down.

Bright light streams in when he achieves his goal. It’s too strong, too white. Artificial, he decides. He is lying on his side again, left shoulder crushed under his weight. He tries to sit up, but something is off with his balance. He can’t move his arms. He turns over to his stomach and brings his knees up, using them to push himself upright. It works and soon he is kneeling on the floor, head thrown back as he catches his breath. 

He looks around assessing the space he is in.  It appears to be a cell of some sort; a box of white, sealed with a glass wall on one side. Over the glass there is darkness, thick and deep in a way you can’t estimate for how much it stretches. The black background allows Katsuki the sight of his reflection. He looks downright awful. His hair are a tangles mess, his face severely bruised with dark circles under red-rimmed eyes, there is a chain collar around his neck that seems to connect to the wall behind him and oh, he’s wearing a straightjacket.

A hollow laugh escapes him against his will and then he’s bursting out, cackling like he just heard the funniest joke in the world. What the fuck happened? How did I even end up here? Why?

Soon, the laughter turns into sobs as he wheezes once more, trying to let all the misery he feels out. He tries to rip off the restraints, wiggle out of them, anything. He groans and howls with every failed attempt. The chain rattles and pulls on his neck as he moves.

No. I don’t want to be here. I don’t deserve to be here. I changed, I promise. Get me out. Please, get me out. Help. I’m going to be a hero. I’m going to be number one. No…please.

His quirk isn’t working again and his throat hurts from screaming his head off. With one last snarl, he sits back down in resignation. There is nothing he can do. The fight slips out of him. He’s so fucking tired.

Silent tears are still rolling down his cheeks and he closes his eyes, wanting to cut them off. Minutes pass but they don’t cease in their descent. Then there’s a warm hand cradling the side of his face gently. Katsuki’s eyes fly open. He knows that hand.

Newly wishful scarlet eyes search for lively crimson ones, hoping against hope that somehow Eijirou is still alive. They find them and Bakugou wants to shout out in utter euphoria, but something in his chest makes him pause. It doesn’t feel right. They’re there. Those beautiful orbs are right there, in front of him, inches away from his face, complemented by that ridiculous hair he has come to adore so much, but it doesn’t feel right. Kirishima’s eyes have always been one of his most expressive and characteristic features. You can always tell what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling just by looking into them. It’s why he can’t lie to save his life and why Katsuki loves seeing him laugh, when they practically shine with all the happiness and joy one can feel. Eijirou’s eyes are always kind and understanding and loving, so loving; for the world and everyone in it. These eyes are empty and mean. These are not Eijirou’s eyes.

Katsuki pulls back slightly with a shallow inhale frightened. The person before him smirks.

“Hello Katsuki.”

“W-who the fuck are you?” he stutters out uncertainly.

“It’s so good to see you like this, unable to mask how pathetic and weak you are anymore, bury it beneath petty rage and a prickly personality.” Katsuki feels his shoulders shag as he listen to Kirishima’s voice. This is not him. This is not my Eijirou.

“God, I don’t even know how I put up with you for so long. What a fucking joke, pretending to be strong when you couldn’t even do a single thing right. Such a failure.”

“Stop.” Katuki pleads recoiling further back, but he is paid no mind.

“Trying to be your friend was the worst mistake of my life.” He spits out. “Regretted it the second I actually got to know you. You were a downright disappointment. I couldn’t wait for the day someone else would figure out how messed up you were and finally lock you up. Now that it’s done I wanted to enjoy the sight for myself.” He grins manically.

Fuck it hurts. Katsuki knows this isn’t Eijirou. He knows, but…but this is his voice and his hair and his stupid Crimson Riot hoodie. He sounds like him and he looks like him and he is saying all the things Kastuki always dreaded that the other would realize. He respects Kirishima lot, more than he’s willing to admit. He trusts him and his judgment as a hero and as a person. But more importantly, he cares about his opinion. He hadn’t given a shit about what other people thought of him for a long time until Eijirou came along and fuck does it hurt; knowing this is how he sees him.

His tears are a waterfall pouring out and he can’t even wipe them away. He chokes on a sob as the other goes on, pushing and pushing till the fragile boy breaks.

“We had a bet about when you’d snap and actually kill everybody. Didn’t expect you to slay your idol and so many civilians, but I can’t say I’m surprised either. I knew I shouldn’t have saved you when you were kidnapped. It was a matter of time for you to join them anyway. Or maybe they would have killed you. That would have been great. Would have saved us the time and effort of rescuing your useless ass.”

Please stop. Please. Just…stop.

“You were so stupid. Deluding yourself into believing we really liked hanging out with you. As if anyone could ever love or even care about a piece of shit like you. What were you even thinking? You don’t get love, you don’t deserve it. Juts tolerating being around you was hard enough and you wanted more? So selfish, so greedy.”

I know…Fuck, I know. I don’t get to want more. I don’t deserve more.

“All you do is destroy yourself and everyone around you. You aren’t worth it.”  

The visage of Kirishima stands up from a crouch and begins walking away, back turned to Katsuki.

No, wait. Don’t leave. Don’t leave me alone.

He pauses a mere step behind the glass.

“This is where you truly belong.” The voice is cold and confident and convincing. Katsuki can’t help believing it.

Still, please don’t go. Not you.

But he does. Eijirou goes through the glass and disappears into the darkness, abandoning Katsuki remorselessly leaving only his words resounding through the vacant space of his prison.

No. Fuck. Please. Don’t leave me, Eijirou. I can change, I promise. I will. I will change for you, so just please don’t desert me here. I need you. I can’t be alone. I don’t want to be alone…

Krishima is petrified. His arms have a bruising grip around Katuki’s body so he should probably let go, but he finds himself incapable of doing so. Katsuki could have a heart attack? Like, he could literally die any second now? How is he supposed to handle this? What are they going to do? He can’t let Bakugou die.

He distantly hears Aizawa saying something along the lines of taking Katsuki to Recovery Girl so she can monitor him better. He doesn’t move. He can’t. His mind is running a mile per minute, going over thoughts and scenarios that only make the hammering in his chest intensify.

He is pulled out of his trance when Katsuki tenses considerably on top of him and he reflexively activates his quirk just in time for the explosion that follows. It’s not a particularly big blast, though it still singes the cushions of the couch. Before another explosion can break out, Kirishima takes hold of Bakugou’s hands in his own and hardening them. Katsuki’s palms will most likely sting because of the contained detonations, but it’s better than risking gravely injuring someone.    

The common room has erupted into hysterical conversations, their classmates trying to provide a possible solution for their current predicament. Eijirou can’t carry Bakugou anymore since he can’t let go of his hands and Aizawa can’t hold his eyes open for the whole way to the hospital wing, so they’re figuring out a way to transport him while maintaining contact as well. 

“What about Shinshou, could he force him to wake up or something?” Sero suggests.

“No, that wouldn’t work. Bakugou has to answer him to activate his quirk.”

“I can help with Bakogou!” Uraraka exclaims eagerly, approaching Kirishima and Aizawa. “I can float him so you can just pull him along.” She explains looking determined.

“That’s good.” Aizawa approves and they get to business.

There are more recommendations of what they should do going around, but in the end they come up empty. Aizawa is opening the door for Kirishima and Uraraka when Kaminari approaches him, unusually quiet. He pulls on his sleeve to get his attention. Their teacher is patient as he waits for Kaminari to speak his mind, even though they know time is a pressing patter at the moment.   

“My quirk…could it help?” he asks hesitantly, teeth biting nervously on his bottom lip. “Like, I know I don’t have a mind quirk, but maybe if I charged him I could mess up with the synapses or, or the neurotransmitters in his brain or something? Like it happens to me. It’s worth a shot right?” he presses on.

Aizawa considers this for a few seconds before giving in. “Yeah, nothing to lose I guess. Let me just call Recovery Girl to come here instead and tell me the appropriate amount of voltage you should use. Bakugou’s body can’t sustain current the same way your does.”

The move Bakugou back to the couch as Aizawa makes the call. They lie him down horizontally and Eijirou kneels on the side, still grasping calloused, sparking hands tightly. Katsuki is still trashing around, breathing unevenly and blowing up every once in a while, so it’s not an easy fit.

“Alright,” Aizawa starts as he stands above them.  “Put your fingers on his temples.” He instructs Kaminari. “I’m going to erase Bakugou’s quirk so Kirishima can let go and then you hit him with the smallest dose of current you can. We don’t want to fry his brain.” Kaminari nods fervently in agreement and takes a deep, shaky breath.

“Yeah, okay. We’ve got this. I’ve got this.” He mutters lowly, preparing himself. It’s not every day you electrocute one of your friends because it might or might not save their lives. If he loses control this could go very very badly. Yep. He’s totally got this.

He feels a hand on his shoulder and looks up to see Mina smiling at him reassuringly. It grounds him a bit, brings him out of his panicked state. He smiles a bit back and turns back around slightly more confident.

“Okay, I’m ready.” He tells Aizawa.

The hand leaves his shoulder. Aizawa’s hair elevate as black eyes flash red. Then Kirishima is letting go and Kaminari shuts his eyes to concentrate, delivering the lightest hit of electricity he can.

The effect is instantaneous. Bakugou’s body jerks once and then falls completely motionless. Everyone in the room waits with bated breath for what’s to come.

His inhales are slower and his face scrunches up as his eyes flutter half-way open. Kirishima is by his side in a heartbeat, leaning over him and running careful fingers through smooth blond locks.

“Hey.” He whispers fondly with a wobbly smile.

I can’t believe it worked. Kaminari mumbles on the side before just about melting into the floor.

Katsuki opens his eyes again even though he is terrified of what will be thrown at him next. But he feels warm and that voice is so loving again and maybe, just maybe he came back? Maybe he didn’t mean it?

“Ei…” he croaks out, barely audible but the other hears it. His eyes are wet, but they are his again so nothing else matters. 

“I’m here Kats. You’re okay. I’m here.” Fuck. Relief. So much relief. It surges through him like a wave and he drowns in it.

Katsuki hand flies to Eijirou’s shirt and he pulls the red-head close, burying his face into his shoulder as he sobs yet again. It’s loud and ugly and he’s not getting enough air in between. His head hurts and his stomach clenches and he is trembling and he’s hot and cold at the same time. Something in the back of his head tells him there is a very high possibility he is having a full-blown panic attack and he has just enough time to pull back, before he is shoving Eijirou to the side and emptying everything he has eaten since yesterday on the thin carpet. Fuck, that’s gonna be a bitch to clean up.

As he bends over, he realizes where he is and takes a look around only to find the entire fucking class staring at him, at the show that is his undeniable breakdown. An involuntary whimper escapes him, feeling bare and vulnerable and weak under their watchful eyes. But then, Eijirou is there, engulfing him in a better embrace and hiding him against his neck. He cups the crown of his head, resuming the soothing motions he knows calm Katsuki down and speaking softly in his ear.

“I know.” He says sympathetically, aware of how much he must despise the situation. “It’s okay. I know. How about we get you upstairs?” Normally Katsuki would hate being talked to like that as well. He would find it patronizing or condescending, an assumption of delicacy and fraility. However, Eijirou has always been different, even more so now and if Katsuki is being honest, he kind of never wants to let go of him again, so he merely nods his assent and brings his legs down from the couch before artfully wrapping them around Kirishima’s torso. His arms follow suit to encircle his neck and he squeezes once to let Eijirou know he’s ready.

Kirishima lets out a small chuckle but obeys, moving his own arms to support the weight atop him and standing up with minor difficulty. Katsuki’s face never leaves the safety of Eijirou’s sturdy chest that’s shielding him from prying eyes.

“There was another guy responsible for this,” he tells Aizawa before taking making his way towards the elevator. “he paid this one to use his quirk on Katsuki. You should find him.”

“I will. Thank you, Kirishima. Good job today.” He remarks almost proudly and momentarily turns to the right. “You too Kaminari.” He acknowledges and Kaminari splutters at the unexpected attention, chocking out a ‘thank you, sir!’. “I will be bringing Recovery Girl to Bakugou’s room when she arrives.”

Kirishima nods and then they’re walking, leaving the unsettled crowd behind.

“’m tired.” Katsuki murmurs over his skin quietly as the elevator doors ding closed. He really does sound exhausted. It pulls on Eijirou’s heartstrings unrelentingly.

“I know. It’s alight. You can sleep if you want. I’ve got you.” He assures, kissing the crown of his hair. Eijirou isn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of Bakugou going to sleep again after all that, but he sounds like he really needs the rest.

Katsuki hums, pushing himself deeper into the comforting feeling of Eijirou’s body against his and does just that. By the time they’ve reached their floor, Katsuki’s hold on him has already slackened. It’s adorable how quickly the aggressive boy passes out, even when he’s not dead on his feet. Kirishima has witnessed it a few times before, but it doesn’t fail to make him crack a smile every single one of them.

Bakugou never locks his door since everyone is too scared to actually attempt going inside without his permission. A fact Eijirou is quite grateful for at the moment. He leaves the door ajar so he won’t have to get up when Recovery Girl and Aizawa come up. Getting Katsuki to let go is a feat, but in the end he manages to wiggle him around just enough that Katsuki’s legs unfold from Eijirou’s sides when they fall onto the bed, intertwining with his own instead.

Bakugou’s arms are still around Kirishima’s neck in an uncomfortable angle, so he brings them down to tuck them between their chests. Katsuki is an extremely heavy sleeper -from what he has told him, Eijirou regretfully suspects it has something to do with the fact that he used to go sleep when his parents fought, so he wouldn’t have to listen to them- which means there is no need to be cautious of awakening him.

The two pro heroes enter the room about five minutes later. Recovery Girl is places some sort of first aid kit with all the necessary equipment on the bed and diligently gets to work. The checkup is fairly swift, Katsuki being oddly obedient in his drowsy, semi-conscious state being a substantial factor for that. After giving Kirishima some pain killers and an order of making sure the other stays hydrated throughout the next couple of days, the teachers are gone and they’re left alone again.

Recovery Girl said there wasn’t really anything wrong with Bakugou physically, so there was nothing more she could do, but she strongly suggested having him see a therapist when he recovers. Aizawa has been trying to get Katsuki to agree on that ever since Kamino and truthfully Kirishima himself thinks it’s long overdue. He’s going to have to talk to him about it, although at this point Eijirou doubts even Katsuki would refuse. After all, Bakugou won’t let anything stand in his way of becoming the number one hero, not even years of abuse and trauma. Katsuki may not like asking for help, but he knows to accept it when he needs it.

They had to move Katsuki to get him examined. He is sprawled on the bed now, on his back. His expression is peaceful this time, eyebrows retracted from their usual furrowed shape. He looks so good like this. So relaxed and calm and normal. Not like someone that drags so much heavy baggage with him. Not like someone who’s carrying so much pain in him.

Eijirou can’t resist the urge to pull Katsuki back into his body. He winds an arm around his waist and draws him close until they’re pressed together, Katsuki’s back against his chest. His other arm mimics the motion and his lays his head onto the blond’s shoulder. Eijirou falls asleep at the comforting sound of even breathing and the familiar scent of brunt caramel.

Katsuki stares at the sleeping figure next to him. Half of Eijirou’s face is smashed by the pillow he is unabashedly drooling on, while the rest is buried underneath long, smooth hair. It’s straight right now, flattened down by their training that morning and their nap. Katsuki has always preferred it this way.

They don’t sleep together frequently, but it has happened enough that waking up with Eijirou is one of Katsiku’s favorite things. He’s not sure how it started or who initiated it –probably Kirishima but you never know- and he treasures these moments because there is no way to tell when they’ll stop either. Eijirou could find someone else, someone better anytime and if not that, then one of them could always get injured or taken out in the action. A hero’s fate is often cruel after all.

Katsuki doesn’t know how to deal with loss. He never really had to. Not even when he was kicked out of his house after failing the provisional exam. He had felt hurt and angry, but he never missed that place or his parents. He wonders how his dad is doing sometimes. The need to call or ask isn’t there though. The dorms had become his home long before and he considered Eijirou the closest thing to family he had. That was most likely the first time he suspected his feelings for the sweet boy went beyond platonic. And the only continued to grow since then.

Eight months later and he is still pining. Katsuki kind of wants to punch himself for being such a coward, but he can’t risk the healthiest and most meaningful relationship he’s ever had just because he wanted more than he will ever deserve.

He doesn’t really believe in people being ‘out of someone’s league’. You want something, you do everything you can to get it. That’s how he has always lived. However, even he understands that there are things you shouldn’t touch only to damage. Katsuki is dangerous, toxic. He ruins everything and everyone within reach and Kirishima Eijirou is already too close.

Katsuki is scared Eijirou doesn’t feel the same way.

He is also terrified that he does. He is paralyzed with fear at the thought of them becoming something more, just so he can fuck up a few months down the road and cause everything to fall apart.

But fuck, does Katsuki want to try anyway. Eijirou is always looking at him with so much understanding and trust and fucking love, it makes every other thought and insecurity disappear.

Simply being around him makes Katsuki so damn happy. And they make each other stronger, better. He has changed so much in the last year. He can let loose and laugh and let people in now –maybe not all the way, but enough that the prickly façade breaks and a select few will get a glimpse of what’s beneath. He can admit he made a mistake out loud instead of only in his head and not beat himself up about it for days and weeks at a time. He can ask for help and depend on someone else, even if only on the red-head himself. His temper isn’t as bad and he is not so quick to disregard or look down on people anymore.

Katsuki is proud of his progress because it took a lot of fucking effort to get here. And Eijirou was always by his side no matter what. Even when he tried to push him away, true to his quirk, Kirishima would never budge. It’s still Katsuki’s accomplishment, no one can take credit for the work he’s done. But it’s undeniable that Eijirou being there, helping and supporting him, was an essential factor of his success.

He’d still make it. Even without him. Although it would be a gradual and significantly more difficult process, so he is glad he didn’t have to.  

Katsuki doesn’t need this, doesn’t need Eijirou in his life. But fuck does he want him.

They’ve been dancing around each other for so long. Maybe it’s time he took his own advice and took a leap of faith. Eijirou had always been good at catching him anyway.

Katsuki feels the mattress shift below him as he ponders the dilemma of telling his best friend how fucking crazy he is about him.

Eijirou’s eyes blink open languidly and the familiar adoration he finds in them makes the decision for him.   

Katsuki used to fight to win. Still does. But now he knows what it’s like to fight to protect as well. And this? This is definitely something worth fighting for.   

Eijirou’s gaze trails after Katsuki’s movements as he pushes the unsuspecting boy to lie on his back and all but climbs on top of him. His arms cross over a sturdy chest and he rests his head on them, while his legs straddle Kirishima’s hips. Eijirou lifts an amused eyebrow as his lips split in a brilliant smile. He looks absolutely gorgeous under the golden light sneaking in through the blinds, rosy flush high on his cheeks and smiling at him like it’s not causing every single organ in Katsuki’s body to fail.

Fuck, Katsuki really wants to kiss those lips.

“Hey there.” Eijirou murmurs and fuck if Katsuki knows how someone’s voice can sound so husky and gentle at the same time. “You feeling any better?” Always so goddamn considerate and sweet. Katsuki sighs fondly not bothering trying to hide the twitching corners of his own mouth.  

“Yeah.” He concedes. “I…I have an idea of what might have happened but it’d be a damn lot easier of you just told me.” To anyone else Katsuki may not appear nervous right now, but Eijirou knows him well enough by this point to note the way his body tenses and he avoids eye-contact.

Kirishima runs a hand up and down his back to help him relax again and Katsuki just about thaws into the warm touch, eyelids unconsciously falling shut in contentment. Eijirou bites his lip to contain his grin. Katskuki being so open and comfortable is still a rare sight even for him. He hates that he has to put an end to it.

Eijirou stalls, letting them both enjoy the moment for as long as possible. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what’s to come and gingerly nudges the others waist to coax him into opening his eyes again.

Katsuki’s head is tilted from where he’s looking up at him and Eijirou shifts his right hand to stoke his hair, careful to avoid going anywhere near his neck.

“You were hit by a quirk while we were getting back to the dorms after sparring.” He begins warily. “You were passed out until Denki shocked you. Whatever you saw or felt before waking up downstairs was a result of the quirk. It uh…it’s supposed to kind of, like, materialize you worst fears and lock you up in them. Sort of like a nightmare you can’t wake up from.” He explains dejectedly, conveniently skipping over the two ways you actually can wake up, knowing Katsuki will only blame himself for not being able to do so on his own.

Katuki nods slowly once, but doesn’t offer anything other than that. That makes sense. He didn’t have the presence of mind to deduce this while he was under the effect of the quirk, fear clogging up any coherent thoughts. But as he watched Eijirou sleeping for the last hour, mind clear and senses keen, he could tell the difference. He could tell this was real. He was real.

“Do you…do you remember?” Kirishima asks. His eyes are wide with trepidation and concern. It should irritate Katsuki. It doesn’t. It merely makes his heart swell with uncontained affection.

“Yeah.” He admits with a deep sigh. “Yeah I do. Most of it at least. It wasn’t fun.” Katsuki lowers his head so he won’t have to look into Eijirou’s doting eyes any longer. He can’t handle it right now.

Unlike a dream, almost everything he went through remains fresh and vivid in his memory. Even though some scenes are blurry or out of order, he can still recall the parts that matter.

“I’m sorry. I should have done something sooner.” Eijirou shakes his head, disappointed in himself. Katuki hates it; hates when Eijirou puts himself down and goes on a tangent of self-deprecation and doubt. He finds Kirishima’s left hand and interlaces their fingers together before squeezing.

“Don’t do that. Stop fucking apologize for things that are not your fault and you have no control over. You did enough and I’m fine now, so it doesn’t even matter anyway.” He scolds sternly, twin pairs of bright red eyes finding one another again.

“Are you though?” Eijirou questions back pleadingly.

“Hah?”

“Are you really alright, Katsuki?”

Said boy releases another sigh before pushing himself upright on his elbows. They don’t break eye-contact. They don’t let go of each other’s hand.

“Look Kirishima, was the whole thing fucked up? Yes it was. It was like the nightmares I have every night were forged together and came to fucking crash me. It wasn’t pretty. In fact it was awful. Like, really really fucking bad. I couldn’t tell it wasn’t real at the time and every time I thought it was finally over, something else even shittier happened. When I woke up on the couch and saw you, I didn’t know anything was different yet, I was waiting for the next thing to mess me up. It took me a bit to realize whatever the fuck that was, it was done. I don’t even know how, I just fucking knew. The point is, yeah, it fucking sucked, but most of the shit I saw was stuff that I’ve actually been though already. It was absolutely fucking terrifying, but I got over it once and I can do it again. I’ll be fine.” He states with conviction.  

“Okay. I believe you.” They sit in silence for a moment, appreciating each other’s warmth and company.

Before Kirishima, Katsuki never thought he’d be able to find so much comfort simply in the act of existing someone. Physical affection, something that always repulsed or made him uncomfortable felt safe and right with the red-head and Katsuki couldn’t get enough of it.

“Hey, Katsuki,” Eijirou starts tentatively “I know we’ve talked about this before and I have no intention of pressuring you but…I think it could be good for you…if you tried therapy? For a while? Just to see if it helps at all.” Kiri tries to ease the blow, but people telling you to go see a shrink is never really enjoyable no matter how the subject is approached.

To Eijirou’s surprise the only reaction it gets him from the other is a groan as Katsuki buries his head in Kirishima’s chest.

“I know.” He admits with a sigh. “Fuck, I probably should. I’ve been thinking about it for a few months as well. As much as I don’t want to, I can’t deny that some shit are affecting my efficiency in training. It makes me sick just needing to ask for help, but one thing I won’t ever risk even for my pride is my hero career. If there is any way I can get even better, then I’ll do whatever it takes.” He states with determination.

Eijirou blinks in succession to get rid of the rising tears. He is just so proud of Katsuki, of his progress and his growth. People might claim that’s it’s nothing that impressive, that this is how Katsuki should have felt from the start, but it’s not easy to go against the personality you’ve built for years. Besides, no one else will probably acknowledge Katsuki’s effort and evolution, so he might as well. Katsuki is often on the receiving end of criticism but almost never of praise. It’s sad really. Katsuki deserves encouragement and validation just as much as everyone else. And Eijirou is more than happy to provide that, so he tells him as much.

“I’m proud of you, Katuki. So so proud. I know it’s hard for you to get over some stuff but you’re doing really good.” There is a barely visible blush high on Katsuki’s cheekbones, but the boy remains quiet.

“I hope you know this doesn’t change a thing about my perception of you. I don’t think you’re weak or crazy or broken or whatever. I do think you’re hurt and most likely traumatized, but that doesn’t make you weak, it makes you human. And if it counts for anything, one of the strongest ones I know.”

A few minutes pass before Katsuki responds in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Thank you, Eijirou.” He tightens his arms around Kirishima, pressing as close as possible to the body under his, still hiding his face at the crook of a tan neck.

“You were there you know.” He informs matter-of-factly.

“What?”

“When I got fucked up by the quirk. You were there, you were one of my fears.” He explains. Kirishima’s breath hitches automatically, not expecting Katsuki to talk about anything related to the recent fiasco. He doesn’t dare interrupt, every inch of his body stilling to give his attention to Katsuki’s voice.

“At first, you died. I killed you.” Katsuki swallows around his suddenly dry throat and Eijirou presses his lips together to stop himself from saying anything until the other is done.

“I killed you along with pretty much everyone else we know. I choked you and then blew your head off.” He lets out a wet laugh that sounds anything but amused. “But then you were there again, alive and okay and I felt so relieved I almost fucking cried. And then it wasn’t actually you. It was someone that looked like you but they were cold and cruel and said all those horrible things I was always fucking terrified you’d realize one day and leave. And you did. You left me there alone and crushed and fucking helpless and I watched you abandon me like everyone else. And fuck it hurt like hell. I know it wasn’t you and I know it wasn’t real. None of it. But of all the fucking shit I went through in there, that was what broke me the most. I was scared, Ei. I was so fucking scared that I had lost you.” He finishes in a sob. A few tears that had been on the verge of falling, finally make their way down his cheeks as Katsuki’s lips tremble.

Eijirou keeps his own tear at bay with a lot of difficulty, but he won’t make Katsuki comfort him when he is the one who need comforting. He cups the side of the blonde’s face tenderly, before tilting it up enough that they can make eye contact. It’s important that Katsuki knows how much he means this.

“Hey,” he begins softly. “it was only the quirk. Katsuki, You are more incredible in my eyes than you will probably ever know. I respect and I admire you a lot, but most of all, I care about you. You don’t even know how happy I am that you have allowed me to get this close to you. I am here, with you and for you. Because I want to. And I doubt that will ever change. So you’re stuck with me until you get sick of my clingy ass. You got it? I won’t ever leave you. Not by choice at least.”

Eijirou smiles in that perfect way that makes him look so stunning and sincere and loving and Katsuki can’t help himself. He rises slowly, with lips bitten red from nervousness and contained sobs, eyes still shiny with tears and a heart about to explode from the anticipation. He gives Eijirou time to stop him or draw back, but when the boy merely leans in closer to affirm his assent, Katsuki doesn’t hold back any longer.

He dives in, pressing his mouth over Kirishima’s, kissing him with everything he’s got. All the emotions both boys have been repressing surge forward, making themselves known. Eijirou wraps his arms around that delicious waist he’s been dreaming of holding like this for months. Katsuki’s left hand finds its way to fiery red locks as the right grabs desperately the shirt above Kirishima’s chest. He pulls with both, trying to bring their bodies even closer.

Soon, a tongue swipes gently on Katsuki’s lower lips and he almost whines when he opens his mouth to let the other in. The kiss grows even more frantic, with pulling and pushing and sucking. Neither wants it to ever end but moment later they are forced to separate for air.

Katsuki doesn’t look at Eijirou, resuming his previous position with the side of his face hidden on the side of the younger’s neck. Kirishima laughs at the explosive boy’s bashfulness, high on excitement and happiness. Katsuki grumbles a half-hearted ‘shut up’ that they both know he doesn’t mean and it only serves to make the Eijirou let out another chuckle. Katsuki bites the base of his neck playfully in retaliation.

Kirishima hums and squeezes Katsuki’s middle to get his attention.

“Does this mean we’re together now Katsuki?” he is almost certain of the answer, but confirmation never hurt anyone. He needs to know for a fact they’re on the same page.

“Fucking obviously. You’re mine from now on.”

To anyone else it may sound possessive or controlling or mean, but to Eijirou it feels like one of the best things he’s ever heard. Because he knows Katsuki; how he expresses himself and what he means. Katsuki has no intention of acting like he owns Eijirou and telling him what to do. Their dynamic doesn’t work like that. But he wants Kirishima to know that they passed the stage of being friends. That they are indeed more now.

‘You’re mine. Just as I am yours.’

Kirishima shakes his head fondly with a grin. Katsuki is such a tsundere.

“Good. Cause I like you so much I don’t know what to do with myself sometimes.”    

Katsuki doesn’t say it back and Eijirou doesn’t expect him to. It’s alright, Eijirou knows already. Instead, he pulls Kirishima in for another kiss to convey the words he can’t bring himself to say.

They kiss again and again and again. Each other’s face and lips and neck. They kiss for a long time until Eijirou’s stomach grumbles and Katsuki snorts before dragging the other downstairs to fix them both a meal.

They arrive with flushed faces and intertwined fingers. No one comments on it, but anyone that sees smiles at them knowingly. Katsuki almost blows up half and half and Deku when the former bumps the nerd’s shoulder and nods at their hands with a smug expression. Midoriya looks just about ready to shriek but somehow calms himself before passing a bill to Todoroki with a pout.

Katsuki decides to let it go just this once and simply picks up the pace.

Some things are more important than petty arguments.

The proud smile that grows on Aizawa’s face when Katsuki asks him to for a reference to therapist is almost touching.

It’s not easy, going to therapy. The first time is the worst and after that some days it’s annoying, some tiresome and some downright awful. But with time it does get better. He is not triggered as much by some things, isn’t as fast to anger anymore. He can talk about how he feelings without wanting to die and he can ask for help without feeling useless and weak most of the time.

It’s a long and ongoing process, but it makes a difference and that’s all that matters.  

Sometimes he relapses, shuts everyone out or goes back to self-destructive habits. But that’s okay because gradually the bad days are less than the good ones and that makes everything worth it. 

Besides, he can't give up. He's going to be a hero after all. He's going to be the number 1 hero.