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Kirishima was acting strange. It had been about a week since Bakugou had noticed the change in behaviour, and he didn’t like it. Not that he would mention that to anyone, or even let slip that he could tell anything was wrong (the only person he would ever consider showing that kind of vulnerability to was Kirishima, and he was currently off the cards). Smiles that were usually sunshine bright were gradually dimming; boisterous laughter turning distracted, even at Sparky’s most idiotic moments. He disappeared for hours on end, only returning to his room after Bakugou had gone to sleep. Faint dark circles had established themselves permanently beneath his eyes.
Bakugou wasn’t stupid, he knew the reputation that followed him was far from pleasant. More than knowing of it, he was the one who had nurtured it, cultivated it. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t observant; didn’t mean he didn’t listen. He watched as Kirishima excused himself from yet another movie night in favour of disappearing off to wherever he went on his own, saw the glance that Sparky and Racoon Eyes shared as he walked away. Even Soy Sauce’s usual 100-watt grin dipped momentarily. And Bakugou might not be the most emotionally intelligent person in the world, but he sure as hell knew worry when he saw it. Still, no comment was made, and the idiots worked to lift the mood back to its former level. All the while Bakugou scowled and sniped and hoped they couldn’t tell he was worried too.
It was less conspicuous when Bakugou decided to retire for the night, standard comments about being a pensioner drifting up the stairs behind him. Now was not the time to concern himself with nuisances: he had a plan to commence. At least to himself, he could admit that Kirishima meant more to him than he had ever have foreseen. He had proven himself to Bakugou again and again throughout their time at UA, from the smallest everyday challenges to flying through the sky at Kamino. Bakugou had been so sure that he didn’t need anyone, and maybe he still believed it, but the truth of it was that even if he needed no one, he wanted Kirishima. It was a fact that was clearer than ever as the distance between them seemed to grow.
Communication had never been Bakugou’s strong suit, especially when it came to words. But that wouldn’t stop him from becoming the number one hero one day, and it sure as hell wouldn’t stop him from cheering up Kirishima better than anyone ever has. He’d do it like he did most things, i.e. forcefully. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick message.
To: Shitty Hair (21:47) We’re going on a run tomorrow morning. 6am. Don’t be late.
He didn’t bother to wait for a reply before putting his phone on charge and crawling into bed. Kirishima loved working out together, this was sure to raise his spirits. Bakugou could sacrifice one morning of solitude to get things back to the way they were.
--
Grey light filtered in through the balcony doors, Bakugou’s alarm piercing the calm of early morning. Grumbling, he switched it off before quickly jumping out of bed, pulling open the curtains and forcing the remnants of sleep out of his mind. Autopilot sent him through his morning routine before he remembered to check his phone to see if Kirishima had replied.
From: Shitty Hair (21:53) oh, whats the occasion?
From: Shitty Hair (21:53) not that im complaining
From: Shitty Hair (21:54) yes ill go with you!! nothing like a little friendly competition ;) hope youre ready to lose
A grin spread across Bakugou’s face. Who knew it would be this easy? Maybe he had overestimated the severity of the issue. He swung his door open at 6 o’clock sharp, made the short trip to the door next to his and knocked by way of a swift kick. It opened after a moment to reveal a slightly flustered Kirishima, hair pulled back into a ponytail and pulling a shirt over his head. Bakugou caught himself staring at the strip of skin visible as Kirishima stretched and forced himself to look away. “Hey man. Am I late? I overslept a little,” he said with a small smile, already closing the door behind him. It was not a full force Kirishima smile, but it was enough to further ease Bakugou’s worries.
“Woulda kicked your ass already if you were.” Nothing he said to Kirishima ever came out as harsh as it was supposed to. In all honesty, he just felt better knowing that Kirishima was here, speaking to him, spending time with him. God, he was turning into a sap. To mask his obvious contentment, he soldiered towards the stairs and took them two at a time, out of the dormitories and towards the running track. Footsteps behind him all the while told him his friend was keeping up, just as he always did. The grass surrounding the track was tinted white with a fine layer of frost “18 laps. Race you.”
“Loser gets drinks from the vending machine?” As he spoke, Bakugou watched mist tumble from his mouth and quickly disappear.
“And snacks.”
“Deal!”
Bakugou had always enjoyed running. He used the time to be alone with his thoughts and listen to the wind and the birds as they began to sing in the morning. It was one of the only times during the day when he felt any serenity. Kirishima ran confidently next to him, the sound of their feet hitting the track familiar and the burn in his legs and lungs a satisfying sign of effort. Kirishima began to pull away towards the end, built for endurance, but Bakugou pushed forward and caught up, sprinting away at the very end towards victory.
“See that, Shitty hair! You and your shitty pace better pay up,” Bakugou yelled, grinning ferociously. Kirishima huffed a laugh, seeming out of breath but in good spirits.
“Nothing less manly than breaking a promise.” Their eye’s locked, and for a second everything was perfect. The sun was just peaking out from beyond the trees, lightening the sky to a pale blue, clouds shades of yellow and light pink. Kirishima’s red eyes, though still tired looking, were happy. But moments like these could never last. Kirishima broke eye contact, looking back towards the track. “Can we do it at lunch though? I want to get a few more laps in before school starts.”
Bakugou continued to stare at him. The distance between them had appeared again. Was it worth pushing him right now? Kirishima was usually so open, it was hard to know how to react to this standoffishness. Wasn’t that Bakugou’s territory? He supposed it made sense that whatever it was couldn’t just be solved overnight, so instead of forcing the issue, all he said was: “Eat breakfast or I’ll kill you.”
“Sure thing, man. See you later.”
--
The rest of the day was perfectly normal. Extras annoyed him, Aizawa helped him develop his new signature move during individual training, the Idiot Squad were boisterous and loud as ever. At one point during lunch, Kaminari asked if Kirishima hardened his insides, whether he would be able to drink lava. Probably not the stupidest thing he’d ever asked, but up there. Even more stupid was the genuine consideration the redhead put into answering it. Kirishima bought Bakugou an iced coffee and a sweet milk bun, and he ate it smugly, bathing in the glory of victory. They all walked back to the dorms together, Bakugou letting the inane chatter of the others wash over him without making much of an effort to involve himself and slipping off upstairs to work on his homework while the others stayed in the common room.
When he got hungry enough to stop working and seek out food, he made his way back downstairs and into the kitchen, passing Deku and Half n’ Half on the way. They seemed to be wrapped up in conversation, heads bowed together like they were discussing something important. He ignored them as usual as he made his way to the kitchen. It was quieter than normal, with only Sato beating a mixture together at one of the work stations. This suited Bakugou just fine; there weren’t many people he would respect to both cook adequately and leave him alone, but Sato was one of them. They moved around the shared space in a practised routine, filling the room with a chaotic mix of sweet and spicy aromas. Once Bakugou finished up, he split the food into two portions: half into a bowl and half into a container. And if once he finished eating and washing up, he placed the container in the fridge with a note that said ‘Kirishima’ on top, that was nobody’s business but his own.
--
Tap, tap, tap. Kirishima’s pencil beat rhythmically against Bakugou’s desk, proof that he was not concentrating on the algebra homework sat in front of him. Bakugou watched as Kirishima’s eyes flitted yet again to the clock on the wall. Less than 5 minutes had passed since the last time. He felt a scowl appear on his face, hackles raised, and said “what, you have somewhere better to be?” It hurt more than he wanted to admit, the idea that Kirishima couldn’t wait to leave.
Kirishima’s head snapped up to look at Bakugou, taking in the angry hunch of his shoulders. “What? Dude, no! I’m just…can you show me how to do this one again? I don’t think I’m getting it.” He curled in on himself the smallest amount. Bakugou tsked, but pressed his shoulder into his friend’s and explained the work again, as patient as he ever was. The point of contact seemed to soothe him enough that Bakugou felt prideful. The atmosphere in the room mellowed out once more as the two settled back into their normal working pattern.
Still, when the clock struck 6:30, Kirishima stood, muttering half-baked excuses about why he had to leave. Bakugou could see that the tightness in his eyes indicating stress had returned. Above everything, he looked tired. Still, he smiled as he thanked Bakugou for the tutoring and closed his door with a soft click. Before he could stop himself, he was standing and throwing the door open to catch up. “Wait- Kirishima,” Bakugou said, hands balled into fists. Kirishima turned, looking distracted but surprised by the use of his actual name. “Are you-” he started, before looking away, cheeks heating. “It’s nothing. There’s leftovers in the fridge for you, so make sure you eat them. Don’t think I didn’t notice you missed lunch today.”
Kirishima’s face melted into one of his softest smiles. Bakugou was sure his ears had gone as bright as his cheeks. “Thanks, man. I really appreciate it. If they’re even half as good as the ones from the other night I’ve got something to look forward to.” With a wave, he turned on his heel and went headed towards the stairwell, leaving Bakugou to brood in the corridor alone. He stalked back into his room, kicking the leg of his desk and cursing himself. Any other person would have been able to check up on their friend when they were concerned, but Bakugou wasn’t able to get the words out when it mattered. He was what he had always been when it came to people: a failure.
What he wasn’t a failure at was school work. So school work, he did. It helped to clear his head to have something to focus on, mindlessly solving equations. It allowed him to strengthen his resolve. Kirishima had not been acting right for long enough, he wouldn’t allow him to go on like this much longer. Bakugou may not have been the best when it came to discussions of feelings (his own or otherwise), but like hell would he let anything get in between himself and his best friend. Not villains, not extras, and definitely not his own inadequacy. Plan of action: wait and ambush. He would carry on as normal until Kirishima returned to his room, then force him to spill his guts like he had made Bakugou do so many times. Bakugou was going to be the most supportive friend to ever live.
The sun was long-gone by that point, but and light was rapidly leaching from the sky, leaving a smattering of stars across the darkness. The moon rose higher and higher, and Bakugou climbed into bed and lay down while he scrolled on his phone, watching night fall out his window. The calmness of the night coupled with his strict training regime had his eyelids drooping dangerously.
--
And so there was a single major flaw in this plan, in that Bakugou fell asleep, though it turned out not to matter. Bakugou woke abruptly to a clattering from the room beside him, followed by a soft but distinct, “fuck.” A quick glance at the clock told him it was in fact 2:30 in the morning. Any trepidation he may have felt towards talking to Kirishima had failed to return in his overtired state, so he had no problem with stomping out of his room and pounding on Kirishima’s door. When it opened, Bakugou pushed himself through into Kirishima’s room uninvited. “It’s the middle of the night, what the fuck, Hair For Brains?”
Kirishima tried to smile, but it looked all wrong. He stood still at the door looking bashful and slightly ashamed. “Did I wake you up? I’m so sorry bro, I know how you value your sleep.”
“To hell with my sleep. What’s going on with you? Did you only just get back to your room?” Looking closer at Kirishima, Bakugou could see his hair was dripping onto his shirt, as if freshly washed. It had fallen out of its signature spikes, now only kept from his face by his headband. “Tell me you haven’t been working out this late into the night.”
“It’s fine, Bakubro, I’ve just been putting in a couple extra hours in at the gym is all. There’s plenty of time to sleep before class starts.” Bakugou couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes were a little wild, his fake grin struggling to stay in place. He turned away, moving around the room with purpose and avoiding Bakugou’s stare.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he demanded, grabbing Kirishima’s wrist. Kirishima looked at his hand, and a scary calm passed across his face as he said, “let it go, Bakugou. I’m fine.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Kirishima. You think I can’t tell when you feel like shit? I’m not leaving until you tell me, and better make it soon if you don’t want both of us to fall asleep in class tomorrow.”
“Just let me do this, man. Is this about me getting distracted earlier? I’ll focus better, I promise. But I need this,” he said desperately. His eyes didn’t leave Bakugou’s hand.
“Do what, huh? Work yourself to death? Seems like a stupid plan to me. I won’t ask you what your problem is again.”
“I need to get stronger! I thought you of all people would understand. How can I sit around and do nothing while I can’t protect myself, or my friends. I feel like I can’t even protect one person, Bakugou! And I know its irrational, I know you’ve told me so many times before that I’m strong enough, but if there’s something I can do that can make me even stronger, shouldn’t I do it?” He fisted his free hand in the front of Bakugou’s shirt, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I can’t watch them take you again, Bakugou. I can’t sit and do nothing while people I admire and respect get beaten bloody. I just can’t.”
Bakugou fought his initial instinct to claim that he didn’t need anyone’s protection, instead opting to let go of Kirishima’s wrist and open his arms awkwardly. Kirishima looked up at him and hesitated long enough that it Bakugou almost lowered his arms and left the room, but after a moment fell into Bakugou’s arms, raising his other arm to Bakugou’s chest, shoulders shaking. Bakugou didn’t often comfort people physically; Kirishima didn’t often need it. He wrapped his arms around him, patting gently. One hand made its way up into Kirishima’s shower-damp hair, scratching his scalp in what he hoped were comforting circles. The front of his shirt started to dampen, but he made no comment.
In the time that came after Bakugou had been kidnapped, he had spent many a night being woken up by his own explosions followed by the soft click of his door as Kirishima came over to wrap him up in his arms. Kirishima’s hands had always made him feel safe, at the moment he felt first his grip at Kamino Ward and every time after that. He was the only person Bakugou had ever let almost completely behind his walls, the only person he would let comfort him when the nightmares became too much. That was different to this: it was always a half-aware state of being, clouded by the haze of almost-sleep, and while Kirishima stayed until he fell asleep, and would be gone by morning, making the whole situation dreamlike. He guessed Kirishima did this for Bakugou’s own benefit, giving him enough plausible deniability that he didn’t have to admit to having accepted help.
Now, with Kirishima clutching his shirt in a death grip, there was no doubt he was wide awake.
Once Kirishima had settled down enough that he was no longer shaking, the energy of the outburst combined with the fatigue he must have been feeling started to catch up with him, and he struggled to straighten up, eyelids dropping. Bakugou manoeuvred him down onto his bed, pulling the covers up to his shoulders and removing his headband, placing it on his bedside table. He sat for a moment, brushing the hair off Kirishima’s face, before saying, “go to sleep. But we are gonna talk about this in the morning.”
As Bakugou moved to stand, Kirishima’s eyes, which had been drifting shut, flashed open. “Would you…could you stay with me?” The words sounded timid, but like everything to Bakugou, felt like a challenge. Bakugou didn’t think twice before climbing into bed with him, and Kirishima settled on his chest, head against his heart. It was all too easy to fall asleep surrounded by Kirishima’s scent and the familiar pattern of his breathing.
--
Waking up with his best friend in his arms would have been perfect if it weren’t for the circumstances. Kirishima’s alarm was much softer than his own, a radio station playing calm pop music replacing his usual angry beeping. Bakugou found he didn’t want to move; for once in his life, he’d rather lie in than go on his normal morning run. They had moved during the night, ending up with Kirishima’s back pressed against his chest and his arms wrapped around Kirishima’s torso. His arms instinctively tightened around him when he felt the other boy try to move, before he heard, “I get it, man. Just let me turn off the alarm, okay?” He sounded content, almost teasing.
Bakugou grumbled and let go, letting his face slip into a familiar scowl. He opened one eye to watch Kirishima in the morning light, switching off the alarm before turning back to face him. He wouldn’t meet Bakugou’s eye, fingers fidgeting with his blankets. “So uh, about last night, I’m sor-”
“Hey.” Bakugou cut him off, using one hand to squash Kirishima’s cheeks together. “No. My turn to talk.” He moved his hand to hold Kirishima’s chin, and their eyes met. “I know you have hair for brains, but surely there are some cells in their somewhere. You know what happens when you overwork yourself. You aren’t going to be help to anybody if you don’t get your head out your ass and get some sleep. What would you do if I was the one working myself into an early grave?”
“I’m not-”
“You’re being reckless. You wanna save me, make me feel safe? News flash: you already do those things. You’ve saved me in more ways than one. You make me feel safe just by being around me, Kirishima. I miss you. The idiots miss you. It isn’t going to do any of us any good for you to be in your head all the time. Is any of this going into that damn head of yours?” He tooks his head and shook it lightly, then knocked their foreheads together. “I’ll say it as many times as it takes. Believe me, Kirishima.”
Kirishima squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in Bakugou’s chest, holding him tightly around the middle. “I’m sorry, Bakugou. I just always feel like I’m two steps behind the rest of the class. You’re all so amazing, how am I supposed to keep up?”
Bakugou scoffed and rolled his eyes, knowing Kirishima couldn’t see. “If you don’t believe in yourself, fine. For now. But you believe in me, right?”
“…Yeah.”
“Everything you have done since we started at UA has proved you to be my equal. You’re good with people, you’re a son of a bitch to fight, you’re the manliest person I know. Have I ever been wrong?”
“I guess not.”
“Exactly. So let me do the thinking, and you just keep being your normal, sunshine self. D’you know how much time I’ve had to spend with Sparky and the other idiots over the past couple weeks? Hours I’ll never get back.” That earned him a wet chuckle, and he drew patterns on Kirishima’s back idly.
“You know you love them,” Kirishima teased. He then hesitated before saying, “thanks, Bakugou. I’ll be back to normal soon, I promise. Will you just hold me a little while longer?” His shoulders hunched in on himself slightly, like he was still expecting rejection. Bakugou made a silent vow that he’d work so Kirishima would have enough confidence in himself that there would be no hesitancy, no doubt. But for now, all he could do was talk him through these moments, hold him, be there for him. He tightened his arms.
“Call me Katsuki.”
“Alright then, Katsuki.” Bakugou could hear the grin in his voice, and his shoulders had relaxed once more. “Then you should call me Eijirou. How long do we have until class?”
“About an hour.” It was one of the only things that could actually make him move at that particular moment, though he stayed put. “You wanna get up?”
“Maybe in a little bit,” he said, the contentedness in his voice reflecting Bakugou’s own feelings. One day, he would sort out the mess that was how he felt towards his best friend, maybe even express it. Hopefully on a day when everything was less raw. This morning though, he just lay with him, soaked up his presence in the sleepy morning atmosphere.
“Whatever you want, Eijirou.”