Work Text:
Everything spilled over after their routine after class spar.
“I’m tired.”
“Ok? Fucking go to bed then.” Bakugou grabbed his wrist to drag him to the dorms, but Kirishima didn’t move.
“Not like that.”
He stared at the ground, unable to meet Bakugou’s eyes. He watched Bakugou’s feet turn towards him before stepping slightly closer.
“Eijirou?”
Kirishima sighed, tilting forward enough to thunk his head on Bakugou’s shoulder. “I’m tired, Katsuki. Like, done-tired. I’m so tired of feeling over-my-head stressed, so tired of waking up early to only enjoy 20% of my day before falling back in bed. I’m so tired of the 20% I enjoy in my day mostly being watching stupid things on my phone. I’m tired of being everyone’s second choice, tired of being lonely despite knowing I have friends around me. Tired of being too much for anyone to handle in a relationship, tired of not being enough in the first place. I’m tired, Katsuki.”
He could tell it was too much to process. Bakugou didn’t speak for a while, leaving Kirishima to clench and unclench his fists, his toes, his entire body, hating himself for the vulnerability he just displayed while also desperate for comfort. He had no idea what that comfort looked like, he just knew if Katsuki told him that he’s strong (or that he’ll get through this, that he just needs to keep going, that he’s got this) then he’ll punch him straight in the face, no remorse.
It’s quiet for a while. Bakugou’s hands found Kirishima’s a bit ago, wriggling his own fingers between Kirishima’s taut ones, holding him close to his chest with an arm around his shoulders, face buried in his neck.
He seems to muster up the courage, several deep breaths pass, before an exhale and Bakugou finally speaks. “Tired of… living?”
Kirishima’s body stiffens. “No!” He wraps his hands around Bakugou in a vise, feeling him slump against him in relief. “I’m tired of the work I have to do and the emotions that I feel, but I know I have so much to live for. There is no way in hell I’m doing that to you, Katsuki, I’m sorry I scared you.”
“Not scared, asshole.”
Kirishima hums non committedly, quietly wondering if Bakugou is gonna address the shit he spewed, or if it’s all just gonna roll off their backs and into the night around them.
It seems like that’s the case, as Bakugou draws back, still holding Kirishima’s hand. He drags him to the dorms. The second they enter his room, Kirishima is shoved onto Bakugou’s bed while the boy paces in front of him.
“I- I don’t get it.” Bakugou begins. Oh, not ignoring it then. “Not completely. I’m not good with this shit you know that.”
More pacing. Kirishima rings his hands in his lap, regretting his fat mouth that put Bakugou in such an uncomfortable situation.
“There’s so much I could say, Shitty Hair. So much bullshit about how you’re not alone and stuff. I’m sure Kaminari or Sero could tell you that it’ll be okay and mean it, but fuck, what if it’s not? What if you don’t stop this spiral? What if you get worse? What if you begin to want to change your answer to the question I asked earlier, and this time you’re not so brave about reaching out. What then?”
Kirishima has no words for him, staring out the balcony door to avoid his gaze. It could get worse. He knows it has been progressing towards somewhere he doesn’t want to be, knows that suicidal jokes are beginning to hit too close to home for his comfort. But, he also knows how hard he fights to keep them back, refusing to be like that, refusing to value life and the future he has so little, refusing to abandon all trust in the people that say they love him. He knows he’s worth something. He knows some people want to be around him. He knows he has a purpose. He knows. He’s just so tired of trying to connect what he knows and what he feels, especially when so much of his energy goes into his academics and his work and keeping his goddamn friendships from falling to pieces.
A finger under his jaw brings him back, tilting his head to look into Bakugou’s eyes, face set in an unfamiliar glare (weird, he thought he knew them all).
“You need to take better care of yourself, Eiji.”
Oh.
“You’re burnt out. Do you hear me? You’re tired because you’re burnt out. You’ve been pushing yourself and going for so long, and it’s all caught up to you. Still, it’s not your fault.”
Kirishima tries to look away, Bakugou yanks him right back, closer this time, growling, “It’s not your fucking fault, Kirishima.”
He can feel the twitching in his bottom lip, feel his waterline fill with tears, feel the hand carding through his hair, dragging him into Bakugou’s shoulder where he now kneels in front of him. He lets the tears fall, finally releases the pain in his chest. It’s not loud or horrific. But he grieves nonetheless, letting his feelings mush and finally being okay with simply releasing them instead of understanding them.
Bakugou moves to the bed, back against the wall. Kirishima now has his legs over his lap, but he’s still buried in his best friend’s shoulder, breathing in physical comfort that he hasn’t felt in weeks.
“I have so much I need to do.” He murmurs.
Bakugou just hums. “Does it have to be done today?”
“Yeah.” He waits for the inevitable, for Bakugou to either force him to his desk or dismiss it and say he should just go to bed.
But, Bakugou simply rests his head on his hair and adjusts his grip around him. “What have you eaten today?”
“What?” Bakugou waits for the words to catch up to him, refusing, as always, to repeat himself. “Um, a muffin? And chicken tenders.”
“What about dinner?”
“Well, I was going to go with Kaminari, Denki and Sero, but my work study moved up the meeting time to go over that one case and I couldn’t go with them.”
“Okay, stand up.” Kirishima lumbers off of him, and Bakugou groans as he stands up, glaring at Kirishima in a way that says you’re fucking heavy but I can’t say that because you cried. Kirishima laughs softly and follows Bakugou downstairs. Truthfully, he’s fine now. Back to normal (not happy, but normal). He follows Bakugou anyway.
He follows him downstairs and into the kitchen, and he watches as Bakugou begins making him some quick ramen for dinner. Kirishima finds that his chest hurts again from a rush of feelings, although these emotions are very different from the ones he was feeling earlier.
“You’re not gonna just fucking stand there. Go cut up an apple and eat it with fucking peanut butter or something while I’m cooking.”
Kirishima opens his mouth to protest, certain the ramen will be enough to calm his now obvious hunger, but Bakugou’s glare says try me and Kirishima walks over to the fridge.
The next half hour (forty five minutes? An hour? Kirishima lost track of time…) passes in near silence, with only a few sentences spoken as Kirishima eventually eats the food cooked for him while Bakugou scrolls through hero news on his phone. Kirishima's forehead eventually finds the table, attempting to gather the energy to stand and wash his dishes, but there’s a clink of a spoon next to him and Bakugou has picked up the bowl, walking over to the sink. Then another glare ( cmon idiot) and they’re headed back upstairs. Kirishima heads to his room to begin working, not one bit surprised to see Bakugou meander to his without a glance in his direction.
He is surprised, however, when Bakugou bangs open his door to plop himself next to Kirishima on the bed, pressing them together from shoulder to foot and opening his laptop up to sit on his lap. Kirishima watches as he begins to work, trying to make sense of the situation.
Bakugou must sense his stare because a few seconds later he speaks up. “I thought you had work to do, idiot.”
Unable to avoid it now that Bakugou is sitting directly next to him, Kirishima turns back to his own laptop, taking a breath before starting on the Hero Law and Ethics essay due tomorrow. They stay like that, working side by side, before Bakugou inevitably finishes before Kirishima. Even then, he doesn’t leave, turning back to the hero news on his phone, his head tilted towards Kirishima being the only acknowledgement of his presence in the last few hours.
Another hour passes and the essay is done, along with the horrid math assignment and he’s working through a dreaded English problem set. Then he just has to start that project due on Monday and review the case from his work study meeting. That involves doing a fair amount of research too, as Kirishima is expected to have a game plan for later tomorrow, and-
And it’s all really fucking overwhelming. He doesn’t want to do it. Why does he have to do it? Kirishima begins clicking around on his laptop, switching between tabs and scrolling mindlessly through the questions he’s supposed to be answering. His leg begins twitching as he gets more and more upset at the amount of work he has to do tonight, suddenly unable to bear the thought of a second more. He feels the exhaustion from earlier today creep up, and all too suddenly it’s as though Bakugou hadn’t spent his evening taking care of him because he’s right back where he started. And now he’s feeling guilty about taking up Bakugou’s time just to waste it, so he really should get back to work, prove that it was worth the effort, but he really really fucking doesn’t want to. And-
Bakugou’s hand falls to his knee. His leg stops bouncing, his eyes darting to Bakugous. The glare he’s being given is concerned.
“What do you have left to do?”
Kirishima tells him. Bakugou’s brow furrows in thought.
“Don’t work on your project. Focus on this assignment and your work study.”
“But-”
“Kirishima,” Bakugou deadpanned, “You’re fucking burnt out already. Don’t make it worse. I can help you with the project when you need it, just focus on what you have to do tonight.”
Kirishima nods, whispering, “Okay,” before going back to his work. Bakugou doesn’t remove his hand for the rest of it, occasionally shifting to a better position but always touching him, sometimes drawing little circles or just fucking poking him cause he’s annoying like that.
Finally, Kirishima shuts his laptop, breathing out and tilting his head back until it hits the wall, eyes closing. He feels Bakugou shift, and the sudden weight of his head on Kirishima’s shoulder would’ve caused him to react on a normal day, but he’s too tired to care.
Bakugou moves to get up, after a few minutes. He takes Kirishima’s laptop and the papers that surround him and moves it to Kirishima’s desk. Grabbing the covers, he yanks it, the fabric bunching up where it reaches Kirishima and covering him awkwardly as Bakugou tries to take off the covers with Kirishima still on it. Kirishima groans in complaint, shuffling out of the way and subsequently more centered on the bed, where Bakugou swiftly pushes him down and replaces the blanket. It reaches past his nose and Kirishima makes an offended small noise which Bakugou responds with a glare( shut up, sleep) . He turns to walk out the door, school supplies under his arm.
“Kats…” Bakugou turns back around. “Thank you, for today.”
“We’re going hiking this weekend.”
“I-” Kirishima starts, but the glare sent his way stops the words in their tracks. “Okay.”
Bakugou nods once, and then he’s gone. And if Kirishima had any more energy left in his body, he’d be kicking around squealing like a schoolgirl.
~~~~~
The air is crisp on the mountainside, the view hazy because of the overcast weather. It fits Kirishima’s mood this past week. Part of Kirishima wishes it was sunny. He wants to move past it, and it’s uncomfortable that his getaway is resembling his suffering. Another part of him (the more positive part he is trying to encourage) tells him that this is his last time to dwell in the mood he has been in, and once he leaves the rock he is sitting on (which he is only sitting on because of his mental health and a certain blonde haired boy) then, he can officially move past it. He’ll leave his past coping methods of struggling alone to sift off in the mountain air, swept off the cliff like dust, disappearing into the cloudy sky.
Since when was he a poet?
Bakugou shifted next to him causing Kirishima to glance over at him. He will never tire of the way Bakugou looks on a mountain, relaxed yet energized, calm face subtly exuding joy. Ah. That’s right. He’s been a poet for a while now.
Bakugou notices him staring and turns towards him. His gaze changes to look at him pensively, opening and closing his mouth a few times before finally deciding to speak.
“Something you said earlier is bothering me.” The words fell out hesitant.
Kirishima responded in a voice just as cautious, “Yeah? What?”
“...”
“You- you said something about being lonely? Despite your friends? I don’t fucking know”
“Ah” Kirishima turned back to the view, hand coming up to scratch at his neck. “What, uh, what exactly bothered you about that? Like, I get it’s sad, but…”
“Because! Does that mean I make you lonely? Am I not showing you how much I care enough? Fuck, don’t tell me it’s my shitty personality. Eijirou, I don’t mean half the shit I say, you should know this! Just tell me what it is so I can fix it!”
“Katsuki, no” Kirishima brought his hand up to Bakugou’s arm, resting it on his wrist to ground him, “You don’t make me feel lonely.”
“Then why did you say that?”
“Um, well, it’s embarrassing.”
“Shitty Hair.”
“Ok fine! I want a boyfriend.”
“What?!” Bakugou shouted. Kirishima cringed. “All this moping is because you wanna mooch with some dude?! Are you really that fucking horny?”
“Huh? No! I want the domestic shit” Kirishima insisted. “Like, the ‘take care of each other, cuddle, whisper sweet words, be each other’s person’, that sort of shit.”
Bakugou was silent for a while, glaring at the trees below them. His scowl told Kirishima that he was in deep thought, so Kirishima looked back at the view, giving him space to process how to respond.
“I don’t understand.” Bakugou whispered. “I thought I did all that?”
Kirishima chuckled, “Yeah? Wanna be my boyfriend then?”
It was a joke, supposed to be light hearted, something Bakugou would punch him in the shoulder half heartedly for.
Instead, he was shoved straight off the rock.
“Don’t fucking joke about that! Don’t say shit you don’t fucking mean, shithead!” Bakugou fumed.
“Wait-wait-wait-wait” Kirishima raised his hands in palacation from where he had landed on his back on the ground, slowly sitting up as Bakugou’s words registered. “You want me to mean it?”
Bakugou sputtered, hands popping. “No!” He seethed, before stomping to the edge of the cliff, back turned defiantly towards Kirishima.
Kirishima made his way over to Bakugou slowly, noticing how his ears and hand twitched as Bakugou’s battle instincts registered the noise but he refused to move. A hand on his shoulder, one on his hip. Bakugou tried to twist away but Kirishima had him by then, both arms locked around his waist keeping his back flush against Kirishima’s chest.
“Let me go! You-!”
“Katsuki, be my boyfriend.”
It was nearly comical how fast Bakugou stilled. “Shitty Hair.” His voice was a warning.
“I like you, Katsuki, be my boyfriend.”
Silence. Kirishima buried his nose in Bakugou’s neck.
A hand eventually came up to bury itself in his hair. “You mean it?”
Kirishima nodded.
“Okay.”
Kirishima burst into a grin, unable to stop himself from squeezing Katsuki in joy. Katsuki yelled, squirming.
“Let go! Shitty Hair-Eiirou-OI! You big fucking lug! Let! Go!”
Laughing, Kirishima released his hold only to spin Katsuki and pull him to face him. He received another string of insults for his troubles, making him laugh even more, putting his hands on Katsuki’s shoulders to steady himself as he hunched over.
They boy quieted down eventually, which Kirishima is sure was appreciated by the other hikers around them. Thankfully, there weren’t many, and they seemed to be minding their own business.
“You like me.”
Kirishima turned back to Katsuki, putting a hand on the curve of his cheek. “Yeah. You like me?”
“Yeah”
“Cool.” Kirishima sighed.
Katsuki snorted. “Cool?”
“Shut up, man!” Kirishima whined. “This is a lot to process! I can’t even believe this is happening, don’t tease me for lack of brain power!”
“Yeah, yeah, sappy idiot.”
“You signed up for this.”
“I can take it back.”
Kirishima grabbed Katsuki again and yanked him flush with himself. “Don’t. You. Dare.”
Katsuki’s ears were bright red, but Kirishima’s eyes only briefly passed over them while he was taking in his face, so close to his own.
“Eijirou…”
“Yeah?” Oh, he could feel Katsuki’s breath on his face…
Katsuki tilted his head closer. “Please?”
“Always.”
“Sap”