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Bakugou Katsuki didn't expect to spend his Saturday night to contain roaming to Timbuktu just to find a market that would sell him more than one package of Chinmi for less than his entire allowance. Three markets down and he had yet to convince a store-keeper to sell it to him for less than 5000 yen. Still, he kept a steady pace, even as his heels ached, his toes begged to be released from their chamber, and his thighs cramped with each passing minute. If he weren't afraid of being sent to juvie, he would have spooked the keepers with a spark or two, but since the threat of not being able to apply to Yuuei was weighing heavily on his shoulders, should he choose to commit a felony, he kept his hands kept in tight balls, fingers taut.
Of course, the hag was too lazy to go out shopping for herself, the blonde thought with a growl, hunching his shoulders over the bulk of his chest as a gust of cool air whipped past him. He knew he should have brought a thicker jacket, but the second his mother suggested the idea, he just had to decline. "You'll be cold," she had said, but he had merely rolled his eyes and claimed that a little bit of wind wouldn't be enough to deter him. He glanced at his phone. It's ten at fucking night. What if I get kidnapped? Or attached by a villain again? What would she do then, huh? Maybe realize she shouldn't send her kid out for fucking Chinmi with only 3000 yen in his damn pocket.
In fact, the last thing he wanted to do was search high and low for an overpriced sushi snack, especially considering the day he had. Being surrounded by losers 24/7 was oddly exhausting, and though he planned on staying up to fill out high school applications anyways, walking alone in the middle of the night was less than favorable.
But, to be fair, he also didn't expect to save a life.
There was, surprisingly, a resolute absence of people ambling around the city despite the usual popularity of the street, and while he was thankful for the emptiness of the sidewalk, Bakugou couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had settled in his gut. A light pole, tinged white, shuttered overhead, shading the street into darkness for a split-second before illuminating it once more. He watched the bulb flicker idly, halting in his endeavors to watch as the moths that fluttered around it repeatedly beat their small bodies into it. Shaking his head at their stupidity, he turned his head to the ground and observed the cracks instead. Small weeds, no longer than his index finger, poked through the ruptures, some dawning small, white flowers, while others merely stood out with fibers more akin to barbed-wire. He stepped on them, feeling the grit of their stems grinding into paste beneath the toe of his shoe. Lifting his foot, he reminisced in the vibrant green stain that was left behind.
Destruction. That's all he was good for, wasn't it? He was nothing but a monster- at least, that's what he heard from the extras at school, who were too idiotic to realize their words traveled quickly in a class like there's. They should have known that sooner or later, he would have eventually caught wind of the rumors they spread.
They were all hypocrites. Every last one of them. They preached kindness and looked down upon his egotistical view of himself when they themselves had looked upon the quirkless nobody- stupid Deku- and ridiculed him for his lack of powers. Now, that wasn't to say Katsuki hadn't had his fair share of poking fun at the kid, but at least he had the decency to stand by what he said. All the others hid behind their faux sense of benevolence. They were all monsters, in the end. The sooner Bakugou realized that, the better he would sleep at night.
Admittedly, it probably wasn't the best idea to tell Deku- the worthless freak- to take a swan-dive off of the roof of a building.
Bakugou had kept his eyes hardened the entire time, no matter how difficult it was to stare Deku in the eyes when he had uttered those words. The lost, desolate space that had concaved within his pupils the moment he had heard those words was enough to gouge a cavern in his chest. Still, he sauntered out of the room with a coy smirk gracing his lips and hadn't taken a single glance back to see what he had left behind. But he was sure if he had, perhaps, he would have never run into that villain, and Deku would have never had tried to save him. Looking back, he wished he had taken a moment to look over his shoulder, and then, maybe then, Deku wouldn't have been the one to make him look bad in front of the pros. Bakugou didn't need a loser to save him. He was strong- incredibly powerful. The blonde could only imagine what the heroes had been thinking.
It had happened days ago. Two weeks, to be exact. That didn't mean the nightmares had lessened any.
I can't wait to be a hero, the boy gleefully imagined. No one to hold me back. No one to tell me what to do and how to do it. I'll be just like All Might-... no. Better. I'll be the Number One Hero and show them all that I can do more than destroy things.
Bakugou's feet stopped on their own accord.
What if he really did jump?
Good riddance, the boy blinked. Good- fucking- riddance.
He could hear the distant cries of cicadas in the distance, mingled with the singing of crickets and the occasional yowl from a stray cat, who was no doubt scavaging for food in the near-by dumpsters, by the sound of it. Glancing around, he found himself completely alone with nothing but the whistling wind and the occasional crinkle of garbage bags. And, not for the first time in his life, he felt absolutely alone. It was different from lonliness. That was something he never felt before, finding joy from the lack of company and peace with the idea of having no one but himself. But this was different. Now, he was completely alone. Not a single soul in sight for miles around.
Vaguely, the passing air would whisper to him, secrets he could not decipher and wished not to know about. The ground beneath him faded away, and for the longest breath, it appeared as though he were floating on air, nothing between him and the earth but cold, empty space. Katsuki's fingers twinged, static running up and down the lengths of them as he stood, stalk-still and unable to move no matter how much he willed his legs to carry him. His legs were heavy, unbelievably so, but he couldn't decide if that was because of the immense miles he walked, or the fact that he seemed to no longer be on the same plane of existence as he once was. Was he even still awake?
Vision bouncing between television static and watery blur, the teen swallowed down the lump in his throat and steeled himself.
Then, all at once, it was as if nothing had happened at all.
I told him to kill himself. What would I have done if he went through with it? What if he was dead right now? I really am a monster, aren't I? Would his mother blame me? What if he really did jump?
What if he really did jump?
What if he really did jump?
The question pulsated around in his skull like a record on repeat, tainting the matter of his mind as he tried desperately to shake off the impending guilt. He didn't care. He didn't. Katsuki had convinced himself of this fact years ago, and one measly comment wasn't going to change years of abhorrence and loathing. It didn't matter anyway. The nerd was still alive, and if the determined look in his eyes, while he was scrambling to rip the slime from the blonde's face, was anything to go by, he was going to stick around. Nothing could break him, that, Bakugou could admit, though not out loud.
Right, what had he been looking for again? Bakugou glanced down the expanse of the road in front of him, eyes looming over store-fronts to see if there was a possibility they would sell what he was looking for. Alas, there seemed to be nothing but convenience stores and hot-pot cafes for the next mile or so. Maybe it was time to head home, finally, so he could catch up on those applications.
Turning on his heels, Bakugou put the past ten minutes to the back of his mind and began his trek home, feeling the lasting effects of exhaustion creeping into his limbs. He hoped there was still a train running at this time, because the walk home was not a favorable one, and there was no way in hell he'd call his parents to come pick him up. No, he would not accept defeat.
Thoughts returning, Bakugou thought to the green-haired boy he had once called a friend, and the explosive teen wondered if perhaps he had taken it too far this time.
His current friends hadn't thought so. They spurred him on. They congratulated him. That had to stand for something, didn't it? Perhaps it meant that he wasn't as bad as everyone made him out to be, especially if the others were merely thinking the same thing, too afraid to actually spit it out. If anything, he was their saving grace! He was the one who had the guts to open his mouth and say what was on his mind, no matter what anyone else was thinking. They all wished they had the confidence he had, and he could tell by the way they watched him excel in everything he did, whether that be in academics, to actually using his quirk. No one had as good control over his power as he did, and if their envious stares were anything to go by, they could only wish they were as good as him. So, really, he was their hero.
You're not guilty of anything, he convinced himself. The nerd deserved it.
Katsuki didn't take the time to think about why.
Catching the stutter of yet another streetlamp from the outskirts of his vision, the blonde growled, cursing the idiot who had installed them, and glanced to the bulb with resolute vexation. And yet, it wasn't the constant blinking of the light bulb that caught his attention, nor was it the ocean of stars above him winking at him as he stared up into the night sky. No matter how distracting they were, they were not what had him frozen on the sidewalk, not unlike before.
His mouth fell open, lips parting to reveal the edges of his teeth as his eyes widened slightly, pupils shirking to pinpoints.
There, upon the roof of what appeared to be nothing more than an apartment building, stood a boy. At least, Bakugou assumed it was a boy. His hair merged into the background, black and dull, while his skin stood out among the darkness as a pasty pale. Though it didn't match his own, the boy seemed to be wearing a school uniform such as Katsuki's; nothing but a white button-up and black slacks. The blonde couldn't see it clearly, but he could have sworn the boy's eyes were glittering a bloody-crimson, similar to his own, only softer. Glowing, like a demon's, and yet, Bakugou could not look away, no matter how much he willed his body to do so. Captivated by the vision, his brain hadn't fully registered just what he was witnessing.
The boy stood, head hanging dismally over the edge of the building in complete silence. He had yet to see the teen staring at him from below. A minute passed and Katsuki couldn't help but wonder just what the teen was doing up there staring down at the concert with such a look on his face.
And the memory comes back to him full force.
"...do everyone a favor..take a swan-dive..."
Time slowed until Bakugou could no longer hear the chirping cicadas or the chirps of the crickets. The cats had come to a stop, abandoning their late-night meals, and the streetlamps no longer flickered. Darkness settled over the street, and all Katsuki could think about was how terrifying it must be up there, staring down into nothing but a bottomless abyss. Which posed the question: what was the boy doing? Why wasn't he backing away from the ledge? Why was he turning around? Why was he-...
By the time the world had continued turning, Bakugou's head was already revolving with it.
No... no... no...
The boy turned around and a spark of hope flashed in the blonde's psyche. Could he have changed his mind? He watched, eyes wide with inexplicable panic as the boy's body, no longer vertical at the edge, plunged off the side of the building, his face turned outwards from the structure itself. And before he could even think- before his mind could process the fear or panic- his body was moving, arms stretch behind him as a flurry of explosions sounded at his palms, springing him forward as the fire encompassed his hands.
"No!"
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Kirishima Eijrou had spent his whole life wondering if he was worth something.
His undivided normalcy had been something he struggled with from the moment his quirk manifested all those years ago, leaving a scar with its arrival just to spite him. As if it were foreshadowing how the next ten years of his life would turn out if he even entertained the idea of using his quirk to be a hero. Only a person like him would nearly blind himself with his own quirk. Still, his unique scar wasn't enough to lead him away from his life of being ordinary. Everything about him screamed "boring" and "bland" despite how red his eyes were, or how stark black his hair stood. Because it didn't matter. The majority of kids had black hair, and more than enough dawned red eyes to make his look painfully average. If not, a bit scary.
He wasn't poor enough to use food stamps, but he wasn't wealthy enough to afford nice food, like Chinmi, or something of the like. He wasn't tall enough to stand out among a crowd, but he wasn't short enough to be bullied for his height either. Comparatively, he wasn't smart enough to be in the gifted classes, but his grades were high enough that he wasn't worried.
But, he thought, if he was rich enough to eat Chinmi, he would buy so much Chinmi, that everyone in his class could have two packages full, and he would be known as the Chinmi boy.
At least then, he'd have something to stand behind.
Kirishima decides it isn't fair- this whole "quirk" thing, that is. He was sure he wasn't the only one questioning why some people were blessed with powerful, meaningful quirks, while others were given duds or even none at all. Who decided to got to suffer and who got to succeed?
Even if he did know, he wasn't sure if he would ask them for a better quirk, or merely question why they had chosen to bestow upon him, quite possibly, the worst quirk in existence. It was painfully boring compared to the hero's quirks and those he envied, and of course, without a flashy quirk, most people can't get anywhere in life if they wanted to save people. Those who truly wanted to make a difference, but were dealt a bad set of cards, ended up police officers, or something of the sort. The last thing Kirishima wanted to do with his life was become a police officer. But, it was starting to look like his only option.
He was known for one thing, though he wasn't sure if anyone else recognized him for such.
Kirishima froze.
His body, as if physically incapable of taking another step, became so still, one would think someone with an ice quirk had encased him in ice. His heart would fall to the pit of his stomach, clawing miserably to get back to the cavern in his chest that it left behind. Yet, his legs would remain leaden, his feet glued to the ground as his eyes observed the horrors of everyday life going on around him. Watching people get murdered on the news. Witnessing just how detrimental villains could be to society. Seeing kids his own age pay the price for being at the wrong place at the wrong time.
Watching Mina stand up for her friends even when her life was in danger.
When Kirishima was a kid, he would often imagine what it would be like to save someone. The rush of knowing he had done something to prove himself useful- to see the relieved look in the victims' eyes and knowing that he had caused that. He had saved a life. He had saved someone's mother, father, son, daughter, or friend. And when they thanked the hero for saving them, it would be his name they would chant. But, he didn't want it for the fame or for the glory. He just wanted to see the gleam in a survivor's eyes and know they were safe, no matter what happened to him. When he turns eleven and enters middle school, his dream is flushed down the toilet along with any hope he may have accumulated from years of trying to build himself up. At first, it hurt knowing the others in his class looked own upon him for his quirk, but slowly, the feeling diminished when his friends expressed how, no matter how worthless they were, they at least had each other.
When they were together, they were at least wanted. Loved, even. No matter what their quirk was or who they were.
He never realized how much more it hurt to hear about how insubstantial he was from his friends, rather than the others. The people who knew him better than anyone else were convinced he was a nobody. For whatever reason, that hurt worse than the day he got the scar over his right eyelid.
When Eijirou sees a blonde kid on television get attacked, and witnesses the green-haired boy running in to save him, no questions asked, he realizes that it didn't matter what type of quirk he had.
A burden; that's what he was.
So, the moment the weekend starts, he begins planning. Saturday night wasn't an unusual night for him to go out with friends, and having a sleepover at Tomo's seemed like the safest option. He technically hadn't lied to his parents- he had hung out with Tomo, but by the time the sun started to go down, he had booked it across the city, but not before making sure his friend knew how much he cared about him. Kirishima wondered if Tomo was worried about him, considering what he had said wasn't the topic of their usual conversation. He still left a note.
His parents received notes too, but he hoped they hadn't read them yet. He prayed that when the morning came, and he was finally gone, that they would open the letters and know how much he loved them; that they shouldn't feel guilty.
There is an odd sense of peace he feels when he finally makes it to the top of the building.
The fire escape had clanged and rattled against the structure, but fortunately, he hadn't woken anybody up. However, all the while he climbed, the fit of panic within his stomach continued to grow, anxiety setting in as the gravity of what he was about to do finally took hold of him. An escape from the life he hadn't asked to live, and yet, as he approached the ledge, all he could think about was being home in bed, snuggled beneath the covers, and ready to see his parents in the morning and to be greeted with kisses and cuddles. Was being relieved of the burden that settled pushed against his chest worth throwing everything away from? Would it even matter in the end, if he was dead?
But, he found that as he finally gazed over the horizon, the city lit up by the shining expanse of the face of the moon and the stars, that he felt no more fear. A wave of calmness settled over him, his heart returning to its rightful home as he breathed in the harsh scent of gasoline and trash. Nothing else mattered but the scene in front of him, and the promise of an escape from reality if he merely tipped his body forward, even just a little.
Who would miss me? Kirishima pondered, dim eyes glaring off at the array of buildings in front of him, taking note of each civilian that passed by without glancing up even once. Perhaps if they did, they would have seen him. They would have cared. What does it matter? I'll be dead.
I wish I wasn't afraid. If I was more like Ashido, or even that kid from the news then maybe I could have done something useful. Instead, I freeze. Tomo said it himself- people like me aren't cut out to be heroes. And if I'm not a hero, then what's the point of anything? If I can't help people, then I shouldn't even try.
The ground beneath his feet melts away. Floating- that's what it felt like. As if someone had lifted him from the earth and was holding him. Limbs dense and eyelids ponderous, the boy wondered if he should just go back home. If he should throw away the letters and pretend that nothing even happened. Tomo would understand.
A voice in the back of his hand, cunning and small whispers coyly to him, "Do it."
His body turns on its own accord, chest heaving as his eyes broadened, the realization of his destiny coming full force as he leaned back, head throw backward as the world turned upside down. The lights blurred together, the word grey and lackluster. It had been for some time now. It no longer harbored the innocent glow of vibrancy and exuberance. Instead, the world had been dimmed to a muted, muddy grey that in and of itself made life difficult to live through. The wind ran across his skin, fluttering his uniform as he tipped downward, the chill in the air fading to warmth the closer he got to his descent.
No matter what he thought tomorrow might bring, nothing was going to keep him from freeing himself of the dull ache in his chest, and the feeling of inadequacy that plagued his mind.
Other people had it so much worse, and yet, he had succumbed under such little pressure. Years of feeling numb to the feelings he so desperately wanted to let loose and all that was to show for it was his limp body cascading to the ground on a desolate street. But the serenity was still there, even as he opened his eyes to see the blur of-...
Blonde hair?
"No!"
Kirishima's tiresome eyes met that of a stranger's concerned, panicked one's as two strong arms came to wrap around his body. The heat was almost unbearable as he hardened his skin against the other boy's palms, the aftermath of the explosions he had seemingly caused burning holes through his clothing.
But the moment they maintained eye contact, it was as if the rest of the world had melted away.
And just like that, the tranquility and acceptance he had felt moments earlier had dissipated into nothingness. Left with nothing but a hollow feeling in his gut and void look behind his eyes, Kirishima refused to meet his savior's gaze, his body feeling small in the taller boy's arms. Insignificant, and weak, he trembled in the blonde's boys arms, even as the limbs tightened around his bound, pulling him close to the other's chest as if to reassure him that he was still there. Still, Eijirou didn't react.
He had failed.
The repercussions slammed into him like a semi-truck, and all of the sudden, he wanted nothing more than to climb right back up there and throw himself off again. They'd think he was crazy.
Shaking like a leaf in a snowstorm, the smaller boy worked to catch his breath while his savior began to do the same, the adrenaline in his body wearing off as exhaustion took over his body. Even if he wanted to, he didn't think he had the energy or the willpower to try again. The weight of his skull taking him, he weakly stuffed his face into the boy's neck, relishing in the warmth he provided, as well as the vague scent of-... caramel, was it? Kirishima didn't have the mind to question it, for the stranger was too balmy, and his skin felt nice against the noirette's own, cold forehead. At least with his face hidden, the blonde couldn't see the tears that began cascading down the smaller boy's cheeks. He sure felt them though, as they stained his shirt and left a salty stain in their wake.
A minute passed in silence before Kirishima mustered up the courage to peel his face away from the warmth of the skin, eyes flickering up to meet the other teen's.
And all at once, the color returned.
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Bakugou never believed in adrenaline.
There had never been a moment in his life when he survived off of adrenaline alone. If that were a thing, he would have escaped from the sludge villains all those days ago, because the panic coursing through his body at that moment could have fueled an entire city. But as he stood there, legs shaking with exertion as he gulped down the sweat that accumulated by his lip, he found that suddenly, the energy he once had was fading quickly, leaving his knees weak though the bit was relatively light in his arms.
Looking down at the body, however, he saw that the other teen was having a much more difficult time keeping his head up and his eyes open.
Katsuki watched helplessly as the boy buried his face into his neck, right under his chin, and stilled there. If he didn't know any better, Bakugou would have assumed the teen had fallen asleep. But, he could hear his labored breath and shuttering as he sobbed silently into his skin. Clutching tighter, he supported the head beneath him with his chin and held him there, letting him cry all he needed, no matter how much snot and tears were staining his shirt.
It wasn't until the boy escaped from the crook of his neck and met his gaze, that Bakugou felt like his knees would genuinely give out.
Staring back at him were the most beautiful, gut-wrenching eyes he had ever seen. Red, like he suspected, and so lusterless from the recent events, that Bakugou felt the urge to put the spark back into them. They glowed- just like a demon's- and yet the blonde couldn't find a single scary thing about them. In fact, they were gleaming so similarly to the stars overhead, that he thought they looked more akin to an angel's, but if anyone asked him, he would deny it. The fear he felt melted away as his shoulders sagged slightly, but didn't drop the boy. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, arms woven tightly around one another as if the other would simply disappear if they let go. Bakugou did not stop staring, even as the boy's face, glowing paler than the moon, and blushing a furious red, glistened with an onslaught of new tears.
"Shit," The blonde muttered to himself. "Are you an idiot?!"
Granted, it wasn't the best first-words to the most gorgeous boy he had ever seen, but in his defense, Bakugou was piqued that the boy would even think about throwing himself off of a building.
"I-.. uh-... huh?" The boy muttered, his hands not loosening from around Bakugou's neck. The blonde's own hands supported the younger with one hand on his back, the other resting on his thigh to keep his legs up.
"What the hell's your name, idiot? Why are you out here jumping off of fucking buildings for? Do you know how much work it would take to scrub your body off the sidewalk? Probably leave a stain," Bakugou growled, hands tightening to squeeze at the boy's skin. The smaller merely stared, mouth forming an off 'o' shape as he seemed to be frozen in time, unable to look away, not that Katsuki was complaining. However, his eyes softened as his eyebrows shot up. "Hey, are you okay? Answer me, yeah? You're making me worried."
"I-I-..." The black-haired boy stuttered quietly. "My name is Kirishima. Eijirou. Eh, Eijirou Kirishima."
Bakugou blinked. Kirishima. He liked the sound of that. Actually, he probably liked the sound of his name far more than what deemed appropriate. "Name's Katsuki Bakugou. Now, answer my question. Are you okay? Do I need to take you to a hospital?"
"No!" Kirishima exploded, causing Bakugou to flinch back slightly at the volume. "Sorry-... no. No, you don't need to take me to a hospital. I'm really sorry to bother you with this- I- oh, crap. I'm so sorry."
Before Eijirou could babble into another round of sobbing, Katsuki shushed him, carrying him to the nearest alley before positioning him against the wall, crouching in front of him and smiling softly. A smile he rarely ever pulled. He actually couldn't remember the last time he smiled like that, and he wasn't sure why Kirishima was the one to bring it out of hiding, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
"Hey, no, listen. You're fine, alright?" Kirishima nodded, taking a deep breath with Bakugou as he led it, keeping one of the smaller boy's hands over his chest to follow his breathing. By the time he had caught his breath, Eijirou look rightfully exhausted and on the verge of passing out."Good. You with me?"
"Yeah. Thanks, man," Kirishima never broke eye-contact.
In the distinct way the universe worked, there was a formidable adversary gifted upon each person at one point in their lives. For some, it was the tyrannical weight of living beneath a malevolent dictator. For others, it was being brought into a world in a body that was not a reflection of their mind. Some had to live, knowing death was their only gid given solace. A select few were forced into hiding, for a boy holding another boy's hand was quite possibly too heinous for the world to witness. As for others, it was living with the constant feeling of heaviness, excruciating and so vile, that the release of death was more favorable than having to live another day.
But the sun did shine every morning, and though it went down in the evening it left with the promise of returning. And with each retreat beyond the edge of the horizon, rose the feeling of hope that tomorrow would be a better day.
"You really are an idiot, aren't you?" The blonde growled, but he didn't relinquish his hold on the smaller. "The hell were you thinking?"
But all the boy could focus on were his eyes.
"Thank you," Kirishima said again, but even Katsuki could feel the weight of his words compared to his previous ones. He could sense the regret- the thankfulness and realization. Warmth bloomed in the blonde's gut. "Thank you, so much, I-... crap, thank you."
"I-..." But Bakugou's words were cut off by a sharp sound buzzing through the air. Kirishima's phone buzzed harshly in his back pocket. The taller boy watched as he yanked it from behind, taking a single glance at the caller ID before promptly bursting into more tears. Bakugou cradled his head to his chest, brushing his palm up and down from the top of his scalp to the base of his nape and up again. "Who is it?"
"M-My mom."
"You should go home," Katsuki says softly, pulling away to hold Kirishima's face in his palms. "Your parents're probably scared shitless, you psycho. Here, give me your phone," Kirishima watch as the phone was taken from his hands, the call has gone to voicemail. Bakugou messed around for a moment, fingers typing wildly before slipping the phone back in his palm. "There, now you have my phone number. So, if you ever think of doing some stupid shit like this again, you run it by me first, got it? I'll walk you home, okay?"
Kirishima could only manage a nod.
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Time flies when you're trying to keep someone from killing themself.
But the reward was worth it. Bakugou watched with bated breath as the door to his Class 1-A opened, revealing a head of wild, vibrant red hair (which he definitely didn't condone the dyeing of). He ignored the splash of green curls, for both his and Kirishima's sake- no matter how hard Deku was trying to get his attention- and instead set his eyes on the pair of red orbs staring dead into his own. Eijirou may not look the same, but those eyes were exactly the same as the day he met him, minus the dreary appearance. He was proud of him.
The sparkle had returned.
Katsuki also chose to ignore the choked sound Deku made when he and Kirishima approached each other before collecting one another in a hug, Bakugou's arms around his waist, Kirishima's around the blonde's neck. The look on his face was priceless.
The weeks that followed surpassed anything middle school had to offer. From the vigorous training to meeting with the pros to hanging out with Eijirou every day. Nothing beat watching Kirishima spar from the sidelines, or better yet, going up against him. He had gotten stronger, unbelievably so, that not even Bakugou's blasts did any damage against him. And to think, if the explosive boy hadn't been there that day, Kirishima would have been dead on the side of the road. That thought still haunts the older boy as he lays awake at night, unable to fall asleep with the vision of Kirishima's body splattered against the concrete sidewalk. Still, all he had to do was call the boy to ensure he was still alive. Eijioru always answered on the first ring, which made the other wonder if he was getting enough sleep at night. While Kirishima made other friends, he was sure to assure Katsuki that he would always be his number one and that they were beyond being "just friends" by now. Bakugou didn't argue.
Some were astounded by Kirishima's ability to come within a two-foot radius of the boy whose temper tantrums were known to end with blood, but neither one of them dare utter a word about why exactly they had gotten so close. It was a secret that was only there's. A dirty secret, but something they could share nonetheless. Others had their suspicions about their relationship being more than platonic, but the two always denied it, despite how obvious they were. Bakugou was soft around the redhead, they would all say, but he argued against it every time.
But if Bakugou ever bought Kirishima a package of Chinmi for full price, well, no one else needed to know.