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Kirishima still remembers the day that Midoriya died.
His death wasn’t flashy. He didn’t go out fighting. Instead, it was the byproduct of years of neglecting to care for his body properly.
It just stopped working.
No one really expected it. There wasn’t any surprise, though; Midoriya had broken so many bones and destroyed so many ligaments that it was more shocking that his body held out as long as it did.
But to hear the words “Midoriya passed away” be uttered from anyone’s lips still felt wrong.
He had been a binding piece of what made up their class. Even as they got older, Midoriya was always one of the few that made sure he kept up with what everyone was doing.
His funeral was the first Kirishima ever remembers attending.
He had been to funerals before, but he was usually too numb to recall anything that happened.
Midoriya’s was different. The pain was so stark, so unfamiliar, that Kirishima could feel every minute detail. The wind, a chilling breeze resting over them as sobs broke the silence. The sun, struggling to break through the sea of clouds that covered the sky.
But the thing Kirishima remembered the most was the loneliness. It wasn’t like the funeral was a small gathering. Midoriya was loved by so many people that it was hard to fit them into any venue, much less one his mother had money for.
Still, surrounded by a mass of people, Kirishima couldn’t feel more alone. All his classmates were grieving, and it was difficult for him to force his feelings upon others, especially when they were already hurt.
It was even more difficult because the one person he thought he could depend on ended up in an even worse state than he was.
Bakugou had been in ruin before. But not like this.
Anyone looking in would have thought that he was the one who died, not Midoriya.
It was impossible for Kirishima to care for him in this state. He was barely functional, and nothing Kirishima did could alleviate the pain.
At first, Kirishima understood. Every breath felt like a sucker punch knowing Midoriya had taken his final one.
But even as their friends had started to move on, Kirishima and Bakugou remained stuck. It was inconceivable for Kirishima to try to heal in the atmosphere Bakugou was creating. Every moment, Kirishima was reminded of what they had lost. The spark had been sucked out of their home, and it was draining the life out of them both.
Kirishima couldn’t stand it. He didn’t want to let Bakugou lose himself in the ocean of grief that had been summoned by Midoriya’s death.
The ocean is never kind.
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When Bakugou walks out of their bedroom that he had barricaded himself in for the last month and a half, he found Kirishima sitting at the bar, tracing the pattern of the marble with the edge of a spoon.
“Kat.” Kirishima didn’t turn to face him, nor did Bakugou attempt to walk into his view.
They both knew it wasn’t needed.
“You can’t live like this. I can’t-” Kirishima sighs, a noise filled with enough sorrow to move mountains. His fingers find their way to his temples, pressing firmly in hopes of holding him together, if even for a few moments.
“Am I supposed to just forget him?” Bakugou’s anger floods the room in such a frenzy that Kirishima catches himself being taken aback.
This was the most emotion he had shown since…
“You know that’s not what I’m saying. Don’t try to twist my words.”
“Then what the hell do you want? I’m just supposed to move on with my life, like everyone fucking else did? I’m supposed to act like-” Bakugou cuts himself off, and the silence that follows is unsettling enough to make Kirishima turn around and look at Bakugou.
He’s standing on the border of the kitchen, hands balled up at his sides and shaking. He looks so much smaller than he’s ever been.
But there’s something weighing on him that Kirishima can’t distinguish. He can see the grief, of course. A shade matching his own, he recognizes it immediately.
But there’s another emotion coloring Bakugou’s eyes, one that he didn’t recognize. At least, not in the current context.
“You’re supposed to act like what, Kat?”
“Stop fucking calling me that.”
“Why? Why won’t you talk to me, man? We’re supposed to be a unit. Why won’t you let me help you through this?”
“You can’t help me with this.”
“Yes, I can if you would just let me in-”
“I was in love with him! Jesus fuck.” Bakugou’s yells bounce around the wall, landing in Kirishima’s lap so solidly he felt like he could pick them up.
But if he did, they might shatter.
Kirishima knew that Bakugou and Midoriya had had a rocky relationship. He knew that, even as adults, Bakugou still had emotions that he had yet to work through.
If he had said he had loved Midoriya, Kirishima thought he would be okay.
After all, they all loved Midoriya.
But he didn’t say that.
He said in love with.
Very purposefully.
“In love with...Midoriya? While we were together?”
“I always have been.” Kirishima wants to meet Bakugou’s eyes, wants to watch the waves crash against his irises, but Bakugou won’t lift his head.
Instead, he stares at the floor, like at any moment it will start to rock.
“Why? If you loved him, why are you with me?”
“He...didn’t love me the way I loved him.” It was no more than a whisper, but it sucked all the remaining energy from Bakugou’s body. He slouched, the weight of his emotions taking him to the ground.
His knees hit first, rapidly followed by the heels of his palms. Elbows, forehead, chest, until he was a crumpled pile of limbs on the floor.
They had shattered anyway, it seems.
“And so, I was just your second choice again?”
“No. It was different.” Bakugou’s words could barely be heard from underneath him. A part of Kirishima wanted to comfort him; the part that always ignored his own needs in favor of others.
But a larger part of him felt like a whirlpool had just opened up in his heart, sucking up every single scrap of compassion he had left. He had been nearing empty since Midoriya’s death, but he never expected to actually hit it.
It was peaceful, in a way.
Apathy suited him.
“How was it different?”
“My love for him...was suffocating. We couldn’t have been together, even if he wanted to. We would have drowned in each other.”
“But with you, it’s more like...a puzzle. Finding where we fit. I don’t know.”
Bakugou crawls, steadying himself against the wall before dragging himself into a seated position. He looks up at Kirishima, and it’s almost like he’s on fire.
Kirishima felt himself losing control, faster than he would have liked. He tried to steel himself beforehand, but nothing could have prepared him for Bakugou saying that he was in love with Midoriya while they were together.
That’s the part that hurt the most. He would have never been able to tell. Bakugou hid it so well that Kirishima had even half thought that he hated Midoriya for a while.
No part of him could have predicted romantic feelings.
He thought he knew Bakugou better than anyone, and yet such a huge part of him was a mystery.
“I still love you.” Bakugou hated breaking the silence, because it always felt as if he was shattering something much more sacred.
This time, he was.
“But you’re not in love with me. At least, the way you were with Izu.”
“I wouldn’t want to be in love like that. I wouldn’t have been able to breathe.”
“So instead, you want to be with me because it’s easy. It’s the safe option. It keeps you secure. You don’t want change, so you stay with me because you think I’ll always be here.”
“That’s not it. I fell in love with you in a different way than I knew to be possible. You’re what I needed, Ei.”
“But I’m not what you wanted. Nor am I what you want now.”
Bakugou’s mouth opened as if to speak, but he faltered.
And Kirishima, ever the shark, went in for the kill.
“If you could trade me for him, you would. We both know it. At least, we both do now.” Kirishima takes the time to look at Bakugou, eyes quickly losing their shine, to be replaced by a thudding emptiness that scared Bakugou to his core.
Kirishima wasn’t supposed to be the one to lose his sparkle. He was supposed to be able to help find his own.
I guess there’s a reason they say to secure your own life vest first.