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"It hurts to love you, sometimes."
The words crack against the warm, stuffy air. It breaks the moment, the soft and gentle moment. Kirishima feels like he took this moment and crushed it between his fists- full of anger and loathing.
They both know it hurts.
Hurts in explosions that he hadn't dodged in time- in burns that sting too much at night. In the smell of alcohol wipes, in the way his eyes tear up as the burns hurt and sting as he cleans them. Hurts, in harsh words spoken in a rush- impulsively- against his resolve. It hurts In the way he has to force a smile on his face, trying to convince himself this isn't him, he doesn't mean it. He loves me.
Kirishima can only hope. He doesn't know if he loves him- couldn't know. He's not the type of person to see love, he needs to hear it. The redhead remembers when he first spoke those words in comfortable air, voice cracking as he stuttered out an I love you.
It was met with an I know, idiot. And before he knew it, rough, calloused, scared hands (ones he spent hours massaging and moisturizing, because he knew they hurt) were shoving him out the door. The resounding crack! That echoed through the empty hallway felt like an I hate you . It made his bones rattle and his eyes fog up with tears- before he scrubbed at them and forced a small smile on his face.
Kirishima had been hoping for something, anything, different. It was the same though, and it hurt all too much. He knew this is just how he is. He knows, and despite it, he still loves him. Because he hated himself too much to leave.
The redhead often found himself loving people he shouldn't. Unobtainable, destructive, powerful people who wouldn't match him. They wouldn't match his fake confidence, the way he couldn't accept compliments.
Maybe it was the way he grew up. Being shoved away, hurt and rejected everyday was something he was used to. Physical wounds- bruises, cuts, burns- was not out of the ordinary. Being told that he was unlovable and unmemorable was all but normal to him. The redhead knew- in a weird, distant part of his brain he could never seem to get rid of- that it was fucked up. It was fucked up at how he was jump, leap, soar, towards anyone who would treat him like he was worthless.
Because that's what he was.
His father had ruined who he was a long time ago. Maybe 5 or 6- was when the verbal abuse started. He would cry, he would sob till he threw up and got yelled at more for the mess. He was ruined- determined as worthless- from those years forward. He knew because he was told- screamed at, got it beaten into his very body that he was worthless.
But he never wanted to lose hope. He couldn't - not after the hope had kept him sane all these years. He hoped that his father would change- even though he never did. Not even on his deathbed, and sure as hell not when he was six feet under. He hoped that the people around him would change too- would care more about him- but they never did. Not in elementary school, when he got told he was scary because of his sharp teeth. Not in middle school, when he was bullied and beaten down for being unremarkable.
Not in UA, either. Having to grasp everything he could to keep up with his classmates. Not after he was shoved away from Bakugou, not after he was nicknamed shitty hair .
Some part of him hoped Bakugou would change, too.
But here they were, after being shoved in a closet by Mina and Kaminari. Bakugou had pushed him away- and it was the second week of the blonde ignoring him. Everytime the redhead would speak, the other would look away and not say a word. No walking to class together, or studying, or sparring. Nothing. Kirishima felt like giving up.
"Then don't." The words snap him awake from his thoughts- his own eyes snap to sharp ones.
Kirishima can't help the startled, crazy sounding laugh that rips itself from his chest. The giggles last too long and are too strained to be normal. They stop abruptly. Kirishima smiles, though, and leans forward towards the blonde's face.
"Bakugou, I don't think you get it." Kirishima reaches out, placing a shaking hand against a soft cheek. Their foreheads touch, and it's cramped, and all too stuffy to begin doing this- but Bakugou let's him anyway.
"I love you. And I love how it hurts, Katsuki."
Then the blonde is gripping the others wrist, ripping it from his face. Kirishima expects pain, expects a punch, or fingers that grip too hard- but it's not there. Kirishima looks at him, focusing on the anger in the expression. It grounds him.
"That's fucked, Kirishima." The words just make Kirishima smile, in a crazed way. All of his sharp teeth are showing, and his eyes are wide, glowing. He takes the hand that's gently gripping his wrist and shoves it against his neck- where his hands used to go.
"Go on, use your quirk. Hurt me. I know you want to- do it." The words are loud, in the small, cramped space. He presses the hand tighter against his throat- and his heart races as the sweat starts to build up there. Nitroglycerin sweat- dangerous sweat.
Bakugou looks scared. He looked terrified and shocked- and concerned and worried.
Kirishima wants the anger, so he shoves himself closer, chest against chest. Bakugou's eyes widen, breath hitching, lip curled up.
"Go on! Hurt me! I know you wanna!" He all but screams in the tight cramped space, voice cracking. He hates how weak it feels- but loves it at the same time- as tears start filling his eyes. There's a feeling of desperation in his stomach, of need , of want. He wants the pain- he wants to hurt.
All Kirishima gets is Bakugou looking at him In pure shock, jaw dropping.
The desperation that burns in his stomach forces a sob out of his chest, as he screams, "Just hurt me already!" He weakly punches at his chest, knees feeling too weak to stand on their own. He slumps heavily against the other, and an arm wraps around the redheads waist. It's soft, and firm, and it makes Kirishima cry harder.
Bakugou takes his hand away from Kirishima's neck, and puts it on the back of the redheads head instead. He gently pushes his head into his chest, and then they're slowly falling to the floor. Kirishima ends up in between the blondes legs, curled into a small ball, head tucked in the others shoulder.
"I'm not gonna hurt you." Bakugou speaks against air full of harsh breaths and soft cries. The words are so quiet and deep they rumble his chest, Kirishima can feel it against his hands that are pressed there.
Kirishima cries, and he relaxes. A sudden wave of relief washes through his body- making his stomach fill with heavy warmth and his limbs tingle. His hands desperately grip at Bakugou's black shirt. Bakugou whispers, harsh,
"I'm not gonna hurt you, Eijiro. I won't ."
And Kirishima can only hope.