Chapter Text
The screaming pain in Bakugou’s arm was nothing compared to the screech in his ears and the pounding of his heart. Everything was deafeningly loud and yet so eerily quiet. As he staggered through the alleyway, he kept his eyes peeled for Kirishima. They had been separated at some point during the mission and Kirishima went running after two bigger guys. Bakugou wasn’t all that worried. He knew Kirishima could take care of himself and probably had the guys in custody and was just waiting for the Pros.
Maybe that’s why it felt so strange to find the alley barren, with the exception of one person. A person that had a lot of similarities to Kirishima. Bakugou’s breath caught in his throat when he realized it was Kirishima. Mild panic settled deep in his bones when he saw the large open wound on Kirishima’s side and the head wound that was basically a waterfall of blood.
“Kirishima!” Bakugou called, gaining the attention of Kirishima who raised a hand before flinching. Bakugou jogged over, falling in front of the other boy. He tried to assess the injuries but with the fading sun and large buildings looming over them it was hard to truly make out.
“Fuck, that hurts.” Kirishima groaned, slumping further against the wall, unable to keep himself up.
“You fucker, you can harden how did this happen?” Bakugou berated him. He tried to look for something to help put pressure on the wound. His costume was torn, and fucking disgusting and his quirk was basically out of juice. Bakugou cursed, pressing on his ear com. “Deku.”
“Kacchan? Everything okay?”
Bakugou clicked his tongue, “Kirishima’s beat up bad, we’ll need an ambulance. I’m pinging you our whereabouts now. Make it quick.” Bakugou didn't wait for an answer before turning off his com, turning his attention back to Kirishima.
Bakugou's heart pounded in his chest as he carefully removed Kirishima's hand from the wound, his breath catching in his throat at the sight before him. The severity of Kirishima's injury struck him like a physical blow, sending a surge of panic coursing through his veins.
The wound on Kirishima's side was far worse than Bakugou had initially realized. It was deep and jagged, the torn flesh revealing glimpses of muscle and sinew beneath. What he had thought was merely a surface wound turned out to be a gaping abyss of pain and suffering.
Kirishima let out a hiss of pain as Bakugou examined the wound, his face contorted in agony. It was clear that he was in a bad way, his life hanging in the balance with each labored breath.
Realizing the gravity of the situation, Bakugou's mind raced as he frantically scanned the alley for anything that could be used to staunch the flow of blood. His hands trembled as he searched, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and desperation.
"Shit—" Kirishima's voice cut through the rampant thoughts in Bakugou’s mind. "That's really bad. That's really fucking bad." Bakugou's breath caught in his throat at Kirishima's words, the weight of them hanging heavy in the air. He knew they were running out of time.
Bakugou shook his head, trying to remain calm and rational. “Fuck off, you’ve had worse.” Bakugou knew Kirishima hadn't. This was the worst. Not to mention what the head wound might actually look like.
Kirishima’s breath came in ragged gasps, his face pale and drawn with pain. “Bakugou... I...” He struggled to speak. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Bakugou growled, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re gonna make it through this, you hear me? We’re gonna get you patched up and—”
Kirishima’s hand weakly grips at the ripped fabric of Bakugou’s ripped sleeve of his hero costume. “Dude, I appreciate you being all brave and shit right now but-” Kirishima swallows thickly, his breathing becoming shallower with each passing word. “Please. I need to say this. Just in case.” Kirishima’s eyes welled with tears, his jaw clenching tight. “Please. I can’t die knowing that I couldn't tell you.”
Bakugou wanted to scoff, to tell Eijirou that he was being dramatic, that help was less than five minutes away. That this was no different than any other mission. That he was going to be fine.
And yet...
Bakugou’s eyes glanced down at the wound on Kirishima’s side. He was quickly losing blood, the ground becoming sticky and wet and- oh god. Bakugou tore his eyes from the ground, searching for solace in Kirishima’s soft red eyes. Tears were quickly pouring down his face, mixing with the blood from his head wound. The blood and tears flowed down his cheeks to his chin, drops of the mixture hitting the warm skin of Bakugou’s exposed arm. Bakugou took in a deep shaky breath, feeling his lungs rattle in his chest and his heart hammering against his ribs. His entire body seemed to vibrate with an energy that had him wanting to scream, punch, rip at his skin and pull out his hair and yet he was stuck. He was stuck in silence, fear keeping him in place as he stared at his friend’s paling face. Stuck as he watched the trail of red mix with tears. Stuck as the red soaked into everything. Staining the ground, his friend’s hair and even Bakugou’s own skin.
There was something so inherently wrong with seeing Kirishima’s bright red eyes dim. As if every second that they stayed open and blinking was just another moment for life to be sucked out of them. Bakugou teared his eyes away from his friend, unsure where to look when everything struck fear right through his gut. The wound on Kirishima’s side was wide and gapping. He couldn’t do anything. He was fucking powerless. He couldn't do anything. He is useless. He can't do anything. He-
His thoughts quieted and slowed. A hand was on his cheek, the palm was rough and grimy and yet it was so comforting. Bakugou willed himself to look up again. Kirishima was looking at him, his eyes pleading for understanding. “Bakugou, listen to me.” His voice was rough and achingly soft. Bakugou felt his chest tense. “I don’t think I’m gonna make it.” He spoke the words sharply, hard with fact. Kirishima believed that he wasn't making it out of this alleyway. The realization sent a shockwave of nerves through Bakugou’s body.
“No!” Bakugou’s heart clenched with fear as he felt the weight of impending loss settle over him. “You can’t give up, Kirishima. You’re stronger than this!” Bakugou bit the inside of his cheek, willing the tears that threatened to spill over to stay put. The stinging behind his eyes was nearly unbearable, his vision becoming blurred.
“Dying doesn't make me weak, Bakugou.” Kirishima tried to joke, but the coughing fit that followed hardly did anything to calm Bakugou’s nerves.
After the first tear spilled, it was hard to keep the rest back. “How can you joke right now!” Bakugou yelled, regret settling deep in his bones when the dying boy flinched. But he couldn't help it. He was angry and afraid. Kirishima was dying- how could he be okay with his best friend dying. How could Kirishima keep his composure while in a situation like this? Why wasn't he kicking and screaming? Why wasn't Kirishima trying to hold on to his life? Why was he just sitting in this dingy alleyway and taking the hand that was given to him? Why wasn't he trying to bite it?
Kirishima brought a shaky hand to Bakugou’s other cheek. The redhead cradled Bakugou’s head in his hands, gently wiping at the tears that were being spilled. With a small, sad smile he whispered. “Because I’m afraid.” Kirishima pulled Bakugou closer, pushing their foreheads closer. “I don't want to die. I don't want to leave you.”
Bakugou grabbed one of Kirishima’s hands, holding it tight. “Then don't!” Bakugou yelled. His voice almost drowning out the familiar sounds of their friends and pro hero's. They were so close. “Just hold on, I hear our friends. You’re going to be fine.” Bakugou’s head snapped up where he could distinctly hear footsteps running closer to them. They were so close.
“Bakugou-” Kirishima’s grip on Bakugou’s hand loosened, his other hand slipping from his cheek.
“No, stop- don't say it please-” Bakugou couldn’t meet Kirishima’s gaze, gripping the hand in his tighter. His eyes were searching wildly for their friends.
“Bakugou,” Kirishima willed the blond to look at him. Bakugou refused.
“Eijirou please. Just hold on, tell me in the ambulance.”
“Katsuki.” Kirishima pleaded, and this time Bakugou couldn’t fight back, allowing his gaze to refocus on Kirishima. “I love you.”
For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Bakugou processed Kirishima’s words. The confession hung heavy in the air, filling the space between them with a palpable tension.
And then, without hesitation, Bakugou leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Kirishima’s once again. “I love you too, you idiot,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “You’re not allowed to leave me, you hear? We’re gonna get through this together.”
Tears streamed down Bakugou’s face as he held Kirishima close. He gently cradled Kirishima’s head with his free hand. Kirishima’s body still crumbled against the brick wall.
As he heard the familiar tone of Ochako’s voice it was the same moment that Bakugou realized Kirishima’s hand had fallen from his face and his other hand had gone limp in his own. The realization hit him like a physical blow, knocking the breath from his lungs and leaving him gasping for air. No, this couldn’t be happening. Not to Kirishima, not to his best friend.
As the alleyway was crowded with some of their friends and mentors, Bakugou realized they were just a little bit too late. Their faces blurred together in a whirlwind of grief and shock, their voices a distant echo against the backdrop of his racing thoughts.
“Whoa, sorry to interrupt-” Kaminari’s voice broke through the tension as he rested on Ochako’s shoulder. His voice choked off as he realized the scene before them. His mouth dropped open, becoming stock still.
Bakugou's chest tightened with anguish, his attempts to suppress the overwhelming grief futile. He clutched Kirishima's lifeless form to his chest, trying to hold onto the shattered fragments of the boy even as they slipped through his fingers like grains of sand.
He tried to bite back a sob, to contain the torrent of emotion threatening to consume him, but it was a pointless effort. The cry ripped through his entire body, wrenching it forward with an intensity that shook him to his core. It was an ugly, raw sound, a primal howl of pain that seemed to reverberate through the very foundations of the street below them.
Fatgum raced forward, his heavy footsteps echoing in the silence that followed Bakugou's cry. Dropping to his knees beside Bakugou, he placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, his expression etched with sorrow.
Bakugou sat back, bringing Kirishima's body with him, cradling him against his chest as though he could somehow shield him from the cruel fate that had befallen them. Kirishima's face was pale, stark against the dried blood that stained his features
“Dynamight, let me see him.” Fatgum urged. Bakugou cried, shaking his head. He knew that he would have to let go, he knew that they had to take Kirishima away. But not yet, please not yet. “Bakugou, please, just let me see him.”
Bakugou looked down at the broken body he was holding. All he could do was shake his head, a silent plea. Fatgum’s face twisted into an expression of unparalleled grief. Unable to bear the silence any longer, Bakugou bent his head, his shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. Through his peripheral vision he saw Fatgum reach out a hand, gently grasping Kirishima’s wrist.
Fatgum inhaled sharply, his eyes widening in shock. In that moment, Bakugou felt a flicker of hope ignite within him, a glimmer of possibility amidst the darkness that threatened to consume them. With a newfound sense of urgency, Fatgum rose to his feet, his voice cutting through the crowd like a blade. As the sound of footsteps echoed in the alleyway, Bakugou dared to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, there was still a chance to save Kirishima. The paramedics reached the two boys. Bakugou felt his grip tighten around the broken body of his friend. He couldn’t let go of him, but he knew that if he didn't the last shimmer of hope would permanently fade out of existence. Bakugou wept more, pushing Kirishima’s blood matted hair out of his face, pressing a quick and fervent kiss to his forehead. He didn’t put up a fight as Kirishima was lifted out of his arms and hoisted onto the gurney.
He sat on the dirty floor, every inch of him was numb in a way he’d never experienced. As he silently cried, watching the ambulance pull away, he felt himself being gently urged upward, staggering to his feet. Kaminari and Deku were in front of him. Deku was crying, Kaminari mouth was opening and closing repeatedly.
Bakugou stared through the crowd, sirens singing loudly through the evening, echoing like unwavering song birds. Deku swallowed, steading himself before reaching out to Bakugou. “We need to get you checked out.” He said matter-of-factly, like tonight was just any other mission. Like Kirishima wasn't lifeless and cold. Like he would be there when they got back to the dorms.
Like everything was fine.
Bakugou nodded, following the two other boys out of the alleyway and to a nearby ambulance. All three got into the back. The paramedic there gave them a solemn nod as a greeting. Bakugou didn't do anything in response. He waited as the people spoke in hushed whispers and his classmates cried.
The world seemed to fade in and out of existence and the words, “I love you” being the last words Bakugou ever heard from Kirishima.