Chapter Text
It was horrible; feeling this. Feeling like every time someone touched him it would set his skin on fire - ablaze with flames licking up his sides, wrapping upon his neck and choking him.
He wasn't quite used to it yet - the feeling of people touching him. Sure, he could wrap an arm around Kami, or put a hand on Bakugou's shoulder. But feeling the retaliation, the heat of their skin and how kami would wrap a friendly arm around his waist. Or bakugou would relax to his touch, glancing back with the smallest smile. It would make him sick- heart beating too fast and a wave of nausea taking over his stomach.
Man, hed tried so hard. Tried so hard to love touch like he used to- before everything . He remembered how he would cuddle his moms, how he would feel comforted and safe within the arms of his family.
After it, though, that thought alone was enough to make him want to rip his skin off.
But even though he hated how his classmates would hug him- how Mina would laugh and cling to him in a goodbye hug, how sero would lean on him when he got tired. And he loved that they trusted him enough to let him hug them- comfort them when they needed. He just hated how the arms wrapping around him reminded him of being controlled- pulled back into warm, hot hands that felt far to scalding. He was reminded of the pain, of teeth biting into his neck as he tried to push away.
Bakugou, though, never seemed to want to touch him. And although he appreciated it at first, and was grateful- now he was filled with jealousy as Midoriya hugged Bakugou and got a hug back. And well, even though kirishima did not necessarily like physical contact, he did hug (or try to, anyway) bakugou and only got shoved away.
So, what was it?
Did Bakugou not trust him?
As time moved on, to, the answer to that question proved to me a resounding yes . Because even though he would turn away seconds after he saw bakugou reaching out- to touch midoriya, shove his shoulder and laugh in a loud, refreshing way he'd never seen before- he still saw it . And no matter what, he couldn't get rid of the growing pit in his stomach.
There were many times where kirishima decided to sacrifice his own comfort for those around him. Many times he would hold a crying friend, offering a shoulder. Many times he would hold and ground someone's shoulder. Many times, too many times, he would leave after, to throw up, and cry on the bathroom floor. Because he would think about the smell of spearmint gum and burnt hair. He would think of arms pulling him back, lips against his neck, biting and making his face scrunch up in pain. He would think about the warmth of the hands that grabbed at him greedily, and he would throw up.
Bakugou had never been one he had to sacrifice anything for. And it was easy- simple in the way they sat a few feet apart, and kirishima was able to relax and breathe from a day full of hugs and casual touches. It was easy in the way bakugou would insult him, and glare, but let him talk anyways. And as Kirishima exposed more of himself to his best friend, he found himself relaxing enough to sit a few inches away for an hour or two. And sometimes, when they hung out, they just sat in the same room, on their phones, not talking. It was relaxed in a way Kirishima never had after everything had happened to him.
But, looking back, he could see it. How bakugou would zone out when he spoke, how the blonde would not even acknowledge his existence in those quiet nights. Like he was waiting for the other to leave.
And so words crept back on him- words that he thought he forgot. Words full of self doubt that anyone even loved him- and words that sounded like nails against a chalkboard.
And as he watched Bakugou laugh, loud and crude, shoving at Midoriya's shoulder, he let those thoughts creep up. And he saw the green haired boy smile back, laughing in the way Kirishima never could.
It was a real, honest laugh. Not one that was forced, not one only made for appearances. Not one only crafted as an act- in hopes one day he would be like that.
Midoriya was the true sun- full of light and smiles, full of love and spirit.
Kirishima was living as a fraud, with his dyed hair and fake laughs, in the way he would sacrifice so much of himself just to help people. Even if it left him bloody and broken in the end, he would do it with a smile.
If he had to start sacrificing himself for Bakugou, he would. Even if it made his stomach swirl with unpleasant, horrible thoughts. Even if the flames consumed him.
---
Kirishima tried. He really did. He listened to bakugou more, clung to every word he said and followed in his steps, but it didn't work.
Soon enough, quiet nights became ones where kirishima would leave early, and bakugou would go sparr with Midoriya. And Kirishima talking endlessly turned into trying to force himself to get closer to the blonde- much like Midoriya did- only to be shoved away.
It was hard. Every moment, everytime bakugou avoided him, everytime the blonde yelled at him in a different way then before.
And it was hard to see Bakugou and Midoriya head to the roof. The roof where they went when everything got too much. Where Bakugou would go and Kirishima would follow.
Everyone seemed so happy. Happy that they were getting along, seeing how Bakugou got softer, how he would smile more. Many would voice this- voice how the school seeming quiet without bakugous yelling at Midoriya.
And Kirishima sacrificed his opinion, his opinion that Bakugou was fine the way he was. Because if he said what he thought, they would think he's crazy.
---
It was getting harder.
Harder to try and keep up his facade. He had to fight the puke rising in his mouth as he smiled- as Kami hugged him or mina planted a kiss on his cheek. It got harder in the way Bakugou didn't walk with him to class- didn't sit and talk to him during breaks. Didn't sit next to him during lunch.
It got harder in the way he fell into old habits- ones that left his thighs covered in blood and thin cuts. It got harder to smile, harder to laugh, harder to act like he didn't care when Sero hugged him one day and his breath smelt of spearmint gum.
It got harder to run to his dorm everyday after school- harder to throw up the small lunch he had in the morning. Harder to hear bakugou's laugh booming through their shared wall.
And when Kirishima woke up one day, he was more tired than he was when he had fallen asleep. He was sore from pushing himself in training. His stomach was practically eating itself in hunger.
But he got up. Redressed the wounds on his thighs, and got dressed for school.
He didn't bother with his hair.
He walked alone. He sat at his desk, alone. He looked out the window, seeing leaves fall on the ground. It was beautiful out, but he felt too out of his body to care.
"Hey Kirishima-kun!"
A hand landed on his shoulder, and he couldn't.
He couldn't hold it anymore, as he violently ripped himself away from the offending hand. He felt bile rise in his throat, but nothing came out, due to skipping breakfast. And he vaguely felt his butt hit cold tile, but it sounded too rough and hard.
"Don't- don't touch me!" Kirishima held his hands up to protect himself. His hands shook in front of his eyes. He was in his unbreakable form. Midoriya's face turned into hers , and he didn't register his screaming or his pleas, the only thought in his head was,
No, no, no, no, no, no, no!
He felt like it was happening all over again-
Warm hands pulling him back, biting his neck, too warm. Too much- it hurt. He didn't want it. Not anymore- not at all from her. The taste of spearmint gum in his mouth after a kiss, the smell of her laundry detergent- the sound of her raspy voice that was loud- too loud!
Breathing frantic, legs shoving his body away from her . Tears running down his face; hair sticking to his skin. Loud sobs ripped through the morning air, screams following. Screams of weak pleas, begging, screaming,
No no no no no no NO!