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Midoriya grew up almost despising the colour red.
Red was the colour of his shoes, specifically for those with the extra toe joint.
Red was the colour of the rims of his eyes after crying for the past two hours.
Red was the colour of the low grade on the top of his paper due to unfair marking.
Red was the colour of his knuckles after punching the wall in frustration.
Red was the colour of the bruises on their first day of arrival.
Red was the colour of the scabs which he would pick at whenever he got anxious.
Red was the colour of the blood that seeped out of the self-inflicted cuts on his thighs.
Red was the colour of the claw marks stretched across his back.
Red was the colour of the burns littered along his skin, some of them overlapping.
Red was the colour of the hatred and anger directed at him for ten years.
Red was the colour of his former best friend’s eyes, glistening in excitement every time he was presented with an opportunity to hurt the boy.
When Midoriya entered the 1-A classroom and saw Bakugou with his feet propped up onto his desk, he had a deep feeling he could never run away from the colour red: it haunted him everywhere he went, bringing memories upon memories. (How could he become a hero if he couldn’t even get over a damn colour?)
But then he met Kirishima.
The taller boy was surrounded by the colour red. His eyes, his hair, his hero costume. It was all red, red, red. It intimidated him, kept him wary and avoiding him, in fear of remembering all the pain he went through before UA. Guilt would swallow him whole whenever he saw the saddened expression whenever he spoke to stiff to him or seemed eager to get away, but he could barely handle it and wouldn’t be good for his health.
Kirishima didn’t know what to think of Midoriya.
The latter barely spoke to him, only doing so when necessary, yet always seemed to be on edge and in need of a getaway. From what he had observed, he was extremely friendly and reliable, so why was Kirishima an exception to that? (Had he done something wrong, did he upset him in any way? But he didn’t seem the type to hold grudges.) Needless to say, he was going to find out what the problem was and do whatever he could to change it.
Alright, maybe this wasn’t the best idea.
Here Kirishima was, standing in front of the freckled boy who was looking up at him with wide, fearful eyes and horribly hidden shaking hands. The red-haired boy bit his lip, rubbed the back of his neck and let his eyes trail off to the side. An uncomfortable silence hung in the atmosphere: nobody else was around, just the two of them, Kirishima having pulled the other away to the side. Now that they were actually in front of each other, he didn’t know how to start.
“Um… it’s okay, I won’t hurt you, I just want to talk?” Despite how hard he tried, the meant-to-be-statement sounded awfully like a question and not at all comforting. (Great, he messed up already!) In an attempt to try and calm the shorter boy, he carefully grabbed his hands and kept them between his own, larger ones. This earned him a violent flinch in response, and he mentally cursed at himself again - nothing was going well.
“S-S-Sorry, um, than- thank… you…?” Midoriya managed to stutter out and stared at their hands to avoid direct eye contact. “Uhm, what- what d-do you want to, uh, to talk a-about?”
“It’s okay,” was the first part of his response. The red-eyed student always wanted to reassure people first thing, calm their nerves down just a little. It just seemed like the logical thing to do. Why make people worry for longer when you can address it right away? Kirishima’s grip on his hands loosened and he dragged his thumbs over his knuckles in a soothing manner. “I just wanted to ask something, I guess.”
The curly-haired boy audibly gulped and nodded his head, not trusting his voice.
“Did I do something to upset you? You seem to avoid me and I want to know what I did.”
“N-No! I-I mean, sorry, I-I know you’re a-a-a good person, um, I just, sorry…” his voice trailed off into wobbly whispers at the end. Kirishima noted how often he apologised and didn’t pin anything on the taller boy, more likely himself, since that was what the ‘I just’ was suggesting. Tilting his head and analysing the smaller boy with a softened gaze, he hummed a quiet ‘Hm?’, trying to encourage him to carry on.
Taking the hint, Midoriya nodded and whispered, “It’s just, - never had, um, the best relationship with the colour red? B-Brings me a-a lot of, a lot of, uhm, bad childhood memories. Blood, burns, teachers, um, yeah. S-S-Sorry! I-I know that’s not a good ex-excuse, but I can’t- I can’t help it. I-I’m really, really sorry-”
The red-haired male let go of the freckled classmate’s hands and placed a not-too-firm-but-not-really-gentle hand on his shoulder.
“It’s okay dude, sorry for bringing this up. You shouldn’t apologise so much.”
He paused, a small grin lighting up his face before he began talking again.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll make sure than the colour red makes you feel safe instead! I’ll make you realise it’s not only those bad things, alright?”
Shakily, Midoriya raised his head and looked back up at Kirishima. Many moments of inspection later, he nodded mutely and reached a hand over to his shoulder and placed it on top of the other boy’s. The latter took his hand off the shoulder and grabbed Midoriya’s hands again, this time both of them holding one hand each. He squeezed the green-eyed boy’s hands tight.
“Thank you,” Midoriya murmured and shot him a faint smile.
Midoriya was learning to enjoy the colour red.
Red was the colour of the school tie he wore so proudly yet sloppily every day.
Red was the colour of his cheeks whenever Kirishima teased him lightly.
Red was the colour of Kirishima’s hair which he often had the joy of styling.
Red was the colour of Kirishima’s eyes that radiated safety and happiness from across the room.
Red was the colour of Kirishima’s costume, the one he wore when he shielded him.
Red was the colour of the love and appreciation he felt towards Kirishima.
Red was the colour of admiration and support Kirishima showed him.
Red was the colour of Kirishima, and Kirishima was amazing.