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Eijirou hadn’t been sleeping recently. Not well, at least. After the training camp, he kept seeing flashes of what could have gone wrong. If Bakugou had missed his hand. If All for One had been faster. If Eijirou had been convinced to stay behind.
But Eijirou was fine. He was strong, he could do this. Being a hero meant not giving in to that weakness, of fighting through his own failures. He was strong enough to cope.
A wave of dizziness caught him mid training exercise. Kaminari watched him worriedly.
“Dude, are you alright? You look awful.”
Eijirou suppressed a grimace. “Thanks,” he said tiredly, and Kaminari winced.
“C’mon, I didn’t mean it like that,” He moaned. “But seriously, are you sure you can do this?”
“Of course I can do this!” Eijirou replied hotly. He wouldn’t be worthy of a hero if he couldn’t. Wouldn’t be worthy of his title, ‘Red Riot’. He could fight through this.
“Your loss, bro,” Kaminari sighed, pulling down his glove. “They’re nearly here, anyway.”
Eijirou could hear footsteps running up the stairs below them. He grit his teeth, pulling on the last dregs of energy he could find.
He could do this, no matter what Kaminari thought. He could.
The other team arrived, and Eijirou charged. He was sent to be the first offence, Kaminari protecting their prize behind them. He hardened his skin and raced in, fists ready.
It didn’t take long for things to go wrong. Hagakure got the jump on him, and forced him closer to Kaminari. Neither of them were allowed to get far from the prize, so Kaminari’s ability was effectively neutered. Still, Kaminari did his best, and Eijirou would too. He couldn’t let him down.
Ojirou’s tail came flying out of nowhere, and Eijirou dodge. He managed fine, but the instant he stood back up, the world started spinning.
He blinked, trying to pull himself back together, but his legs felt like lead, and the world was all too heavy. If he could just… sleep for a moment, he would be fine. They wouldn’t mind, right?
Just a little nap…
Eijirou’s eyes shuttered backwards and he collapsed.
-
The world around him shifted and tilted. Someone was yelling, someone in painted hues of orange and green. A black blob moved in front of him.
He tried to focus, tried to grasp onto the image, but it slipped through his fingers like oil. And soon, he was back under.
-
Eijirou woke up, body aching all over. The bright light of the infirmary burned through his eyelashes, making him squint. He turned his head slightly, just to get away from those blinding lights.
He looked to the side, and his eyes widened. Sitting next to him was Bakugou, staring back.
He was sat in a chair dragged up to Eijirou’s bed. Had he… had he been sitting there the entire time?
His expression was soft, eyes used to being pierced with rage now softened. Diluted.
“…Bakugou?” Eijirou croaked.
The softness faded, pushed away as Bakugou scoffed. “What the hell was that, Shitty Hair? Fainting during training? What the fuck?”
Eijirou felt too tired for this. Too tired to deal with Bakugou judging him.
And he knew, he knew that wasn’t what that was. Bakugou wasn’t judging him, wasn’t thinking him a lesser hero because he just couldn’t keep his eyes open.
But Eijirou was so tired. And it was so easy to believe.
“Sorry I screwed up. I’m just… useless…”
Bakugou’s eyes widened, hands moving to scrub at his trouser legs.
“Fuck,” he hissed. “That’s not what I… you’re not goddamn useless, alright?”
“But I am,” Eijirou mumbled, half gone, lost in the need to sleep. “I should have been stronger… Should have stayed awake…”
“Hey!” Bakugou snapped. “Cut that shit out. You’re not weak.”
Bakugou scooted forward in his chair, reaching out to wrap his fingers around Eijirou’s hand. Looking down hazily, Eijirou could barely comprehend what was happening. That was Bakugou’s hand, Bakugou’s fingers. Bakugou’s warmth he could feel pulsing through his own worn out skin.
“Do you really think I would have kept talking to you if you were weak?” Bakugou murmured.
Eijirou looked up, into those red red eyes, and - oh -
This was a dangerous moment, a moment where time seemed to pause and collapse in on itself. Impossibility, filled in the instance of a second.
“Shitty - Kirishima - I… I fuckin’ like you, alright?” Bakugou’s face was turning red, cheeks puffed out just from the simple exertion of saying those words.
It was adorable, and Eijirou felt his heart flutter. Bakugou liked him. Eijirou wished he could be more awake so he could feel these words truly, give them the response he deserved.
Right now, he was hazy, flying in a daydream. This couldn’t possibly be real, but yet everything was telling him that it was.
“But you’ve got to stop this crap. Didn’t you fuckin’ tell me? Take care of yourself. That’s what heroes do. Not fight past their limits and risk this kind of goddamn shit.”
Eijirou swallowed. He wanted to defend himself, say that this was what he should be doing… but with Bakugou’s searing gaze he had no arguments.
“Okay,” he whispered.
He squeezed his fingers around Bakugou’s own. They felt so soft, so unlike Bakugou’s harsh personality.
But that was the juxtaposition with Bakugou. Everyone saw the outer layer, never daring to look further. They didn’t see this version of him. The one that cared, too deeply, but always failed at putting it into words. But Eijirou could read him, could read what he was saying. See between the lines of his anger through to what he really meant.
For Bakugou liked Eijirou and Eijirou liked Bakugou. It was as simple as that, and both would have each other’s backs until the end of time.
Eijirou felt Bakugou’s pulse beat faster as Bakugou squeezed back.