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Pain.
That was the first thing to register, settling in his nerves like an old, unwelcome friend. For a few seconds it covered him evenly. He shifted, and the primary sources made themselves known immediately. His head (no surprise there), and his left leg, which ached dully under some unidentifiable pressure. He blinked his eyes open, gazing up at the smashed light fixtures and cracked ceiling panels of a high rise office space, illuminated by the orange light of early evening. A broken ceiling fan swung ominously on its exposed electric cables a little to the left of his head. Pulling his attention away from the damoclean threat, he glanced down at his feet. From the knee down his left leg was buried in concrete rubble. He pulled on it experimentally, unable to keep from gasping at the stabbing pain that ripped through him at the motion. Staring at the ceiling again, he panted, cursing under his breath as prickles of sweat broke out on his brow.
A cold breeze blew suddenly across his face. Tilting his head back to follow its source, he froze in place, staring. The entire outer wall of the building had been ripped away, exposing the rooms within to the high-altitude winds just outside. He was shocked by just how close he lay to the opening; if he could scoot up by just over a meter, he'd be able to peer over the edge at the cold ground a dizzying, nauseating depth below him. He'd never been scared of heights, but the ominous creaks and groans of the building shifting under the buffeting winds filled his stomach with dread. Again he attempted to free his leg, bracing his other leg and his arms against the tiled floor and pulling as hard as he dared. No luck, and the pain caused his temper to flare. He kicked his good leg viciously against the pile of rubble and howled with anger.
“Damnit! Damnit, damnit, DAMNIT!”
Aiming his open palm at the concrete, he let a charge build up in his arm, orange sparks popping–
“...Bakugou? Bakugou, is that you?”
He froze, the explosion in his palm fizzing out instantly. The disembodied voice was close–somewhere right below him. It sounded like–was that–?
“...Sparky?”
An incredibly shaky, incredibly relieved laugh answered his question.
“It is you! Oh thank goodness you're okay! I thought you–and I heard you yell when the wall exploded, and when I fell, a-and I called you, and I–yelled a-and you didn't say anything and then–”
The words were like an unstoppable flood, pouring out and getting more disjointed and more frantic by the second until Bakugou interrupted.
“Shut up and breathe dumbass! You're about to hyperventilate, you discount Pikachu!” Because of course it was Kaminari, the one doofus who never knew when to shut up, and his tsunami of words had sent a flood of memories through Bakugou's mind. The villain attack during a simple, mundane patrol. Him and Chargebolt combing through the partially damaged building for people who hadn't evacuated in time. An earsplitting crash several floors below them, throwing them off their feet. Raising his head to see a spark of fire flare in a dark corner of the room. Shouting out a warning that was drowned in shattering glass, exploding concrete, and screeching metal. Watching the entire front of the building and the floor under Kaminari's feet disintegrate, his friend disappearing over the edge. And the last thing he remembered: a sharp impact to the top of his skull, sending him straight to la-la land.
That explained the headache then. He pushed himself up on his elbows, twisting to peer out the gaping hole in the side of the building.
“Where the hell are you Drooly?” he asked.
“I–I think I'm right below you.” Kaminari spoke slower now, though still a little breathless, still stuttering over his words,“I can't see you, but you–you sound pretty close. Guess I–guess I didn't fall too far after all.” There was a pause as he pulled in another steadying breath, then, “Are you hurt?” It was asked in a voice too worried and earnest for Bakugou's comfort, and he felt an annoying little twinge in his heart.
“My left leg's trapped under a ton of concrete.” He answered gruffly, “Probably broken. Hurts enough to be. Fine otherwise.” He blatantly ignored the still insistent pounding in his head; it wasn't allowed to be an issue right now, even if he could feel the tiny tickle of a bead of liquid that might be blood winding its way down his scalp.
“O-oh. Can y- can you move it, l-like at all?”
“...no.”
“...Can you–blast it out maybe?”
Bakugou scowled, unwilling to admit that he'd been about to do just that. After his brief attack of frustration, he found himself able to realize what a potentially disastrous action that could've been. He had no idea how stable the rest of the building was, and as controlled as he could make them, an explosion was still an explosion. Who knew what debris, shaken loose by either the sound or the shockwaves, could come raining down on their heads? Or what foundational support structures, pushed past their limits, could have broken beneath them.
“Nope. ‘S not a good idea,” he said reluctantly. A brief silence fell after this admission. Bakugou glared at the heap of concrete.
“What about you?” he asked finally, “Are you hurt?” He grimaced at his own tone. He hadn't intended to let his voice soften that much, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
There was silence for a minute, then Bakugou caught the faint sound of Kaminari's breath hitching suddenly. It sent a sharp, almost painful jolt through Bakugou's body, his eyes widening in concern. Ignoring the protesting ache of his head and back, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, straining his ears to listen. Something's wrong.
And then Kaminari was laughing, a horrible, trembly little huff, and Bakugou felt his fists clench involuntarily, because he's known this idiot long enough to know this was his stupid way of coping.
“So–so funny story, actually–” You dumbass idiot, stop trying to play it off. Stop pretending that you're fine. I'm not stupid, I know something's wrong. He had a violent desire to yell the words in Kaminari's face, but bit his tongue instead and waited.
“I–I landed on one of those–you know, those window-washing thingies? Like…like the platforms? But th–!” His already shaky voice stumbled and Bakugou's fists tightened even further, to the point that, if he hadn't been wearing his gloves, his fingernails would've been drawing blood. Something's wrong.
“One–one of the railings was broken, and I–when I landed my-my leg hit–! A-and it–kinda went right through?”
Oh.
Oh, that was bad. That was worse, so much worse, than what he'd been expecting. And Kaminari was probably in shock after that traumatic of an injury. No wonder his voice was shaking so badly.
“I–I know you're not s-supposed to pull it out if y–if you get–impaled, so I guess–guess we're both stuck. Heh. Great news, huh?”
“S-shut the hell up Dunce-face!” Bakugou snapped automatically. Horrified at the momentary tremble in his voice, he flexed his fingers, letting off several irritated pops. “Just give me a damn minute!”
Again he wrenched at his leg, this time using his hands to tug at the useless limb until the flaring pain almost caused him to black out again. Pushing past the pain he tried it again, and again, to no avail. Gasping, he finally dropped back against the cold floor, blinking till the dark spots invading his vision faded again.
“Damnit,” he snarled, panting for breath as he scowled at the ceiling again, “I hate this.”
Kaminari laughed again, more strained this time and unable to hide the rising tinge of panic in his voice. “...Guess that–that's it then. We're just–gonna have to wait til someone finds us, huh.”
Bakugou didn't reply, eyes burning holes in the ceiling. He'd die before verbally agreeing with Kaminari. To himself though–they were honestly low on other options at the moment. And by the sound of it, Drooly was in pretty dire need of some help.
If only that damn concrete–!
Kaminari coughed. “I-I lost my commlink somewhere. Dunno where it's got to. Is–is yours working?”
Bakugou touched his ear, only now realizing the device was gone. He glanced around quickly, and spotted a familiar tiny wire surrounded by splintered plastic and just out of reach of his right hand.
Groaning, he slammed his fist against the floor in frustration. Tiny pieces of plaster rained down from the ceiling above him, reminding him why that was such a bad idea.
“...is–is that a no?”
Bakugou rolled his eyes. “What do you think, dumbass?”
There was a disappointed sigh from down below. “How are we gonna–call for help then?”
“We're not,” Bakugou growled, “We're gonna sit here until those idiots finally notice a collapsing building right in front of their eyes, and when they get their asses over here to check it out, we'll yell our damn heads off until they notice we're here.”
“...oh. Okay then.”
They lay in silence after this. Bakugou wished he were closer to the edge of the broken wall. As it was, he wouldn't be able to see anyone out there. Likely case was, they wouldn't see him either. Kaminari should be more out in the open, and a suspended window-washing platform was pretty conspicuous all things considered. Then there were the news copters of course (though, weirdly, he hadn't heard even the whisper of one since he’d first woken up). If they weren't visible from below, then surely–
Another cough interrupted his thoughts. It was followed by spitting sounds and he felt his eyebrows furrowing.
“Drooly, what are you doing?” he asked, “Stop getting your germs all over that window-washer's platform.”
“‘M not,” Kaminari protested, pausing to spit again, “‘M spitting off–off the edge. ‘nd it's just blood anyway. I'm not–”
“Blood?” Bakugou stiffened, then sat up, fully alert, “What do you mean, blood?”
“Hm? Just blood. It was–it was in my mouth, and I wanted to get rid of it, so I–”
Bakugou saw red.
“So help me Dunce-face, if you don't tell me where that blood came from, I SWEAR–!”
“Relax, relax Bakugou!” Kaminari said quickly, “I just–I just bit my tongue really bad when–when I fell, and there was still blood in my mouth. That's all. Okay?”
There was a beat of silence, during which Bakugou felt his cheeks beginning to warm. “...fine.” he said eventually, and carefully laid back against the floor again.
Kaminari began to snicker.
“Careful there Bakugou,” he teased, “‘M gonna start thinking you care about my wellbeing.”
Bakugou felt a surge of annoyance. That moron. Still trying to make stupid, lameass jokes while he was probably bleeding out a damn thirty stories above ground. Of course Bakugou cared if that idiot had internal bleeding too.
(It would've ensured they didn't have the luxury to wait around for someone to rescue them. And their time limit was short enough already.)
“Hope–hope someone finds us soon. It's getting kinda late. Like–like I think there's stars out al-already. That's weird, huh, Bakugou? …..And–and it's k-kinda getting c-cold too…..are–are you g-getting cold? …..Bakugou?”
Ugh, his head hurt. He didn't respond, hoping the dumbass would take the hint and shut up for a while. Preferably until someone finally figured out where they were and showed up to do their damn job (whenever that would be).
“...Bakugou?”
Shut up Drooly. Go take a damn nap or something–only don't cause you're probably concussed or in shock or something. But just shut up anyway. Stop talking to me.
“Bakugou!”
Damnit, that one sounded scared, didn't it? His eyes popped open involuntarily, eyebrows creasing in confused annoyance (he wouldn't admit to the tiny twinge of fear that pulled at his heart).
From below, Kaminari's breathing began to pick up, fast and shallow, and his words tripped over themselves, quivery and panicking, until he was almost wailing. “No, don't go quiet, please don't–don't go q-quiet again, not ag-again! Bakugou–!”
Oh damn it all–!
“What?! What Sparky, I'm still here! Okay? Stop spazzing out on me, got it?”
But suddenly Kaminari was very quiet, and his breath was starting to hitch, and–was he crying? Bakugou scrambled to sit up again, feeling cold sweat break out on the back of his neck.
“What the hell–" he began, but Kaminari was already interrupting him with a trembling stream of words.
“Sorry–sorry Bakugou,” he faltered, “I'm sorry–! You didn't say anything and I thought–I thought you–!”
“...you thought what?” Bakugou asked uncomfortably, when Kaminari didn't go on.
“ ‘t's stupid,” Kaminari mumbled. Bakugou rolled his eyes, feeling his heartrate slow up a little.
“Just say it moron,” he grumbled, “I'll decide if it's stupid.”
Kaminari gave a watery sniff.
“It's–it's just, when I fell earlier y'know,” he spoke, hesitating at first, then faster and more frantic, “Wh-when the bar went through–went through my leg, and it hurt so bad–and I couldn't s-stop screaming at first, and I thought–thought you'd hear me and I called you too, but–but you didn't say anything, and I–! I thought–! I thought you were dead!”
He was definitely crying now, and Bakugou was ready to sink six feet under for being such a class-act heel. Kaminari didn't deserve this–to be trapped thirty storeys above ground with a damn metal bar through his leg, and an oversized cookie sheet the only thing between him and a hundred meter nosedive to the pavement. And the only person around to see it, the only company he'd been handed? Asshole of the year, Katsuki Bakugou.
Sounds like the setup to the worst damn joke of all time.
Kaminari was sniffling now, his sobs few and irregular, and muffled, as if he were trying to stifle them. It was making Bakugou's heart hurt.
“...fine.” He lay back down, scowling guiltily at the ceiling again. “Whatever. I won't go quiet on you again. I'll…I'll keep talking to you. So…go ahead and talk.”
There was silence for several seconds. Bakugou frowned.
“...Well?” he demanded, pushing down his own sudden twinge of fear.
“...Are–are you m-mad at me?”
It was stupid, so incredibly stupid of a question. The kind of question only that dumbass, buffoon of a drooling idiot could ask at a time like this. Bakugou opened his mouth to yell at him.
And started laughing.
And for some stupid, incomprehensible reason, in the tiniest, most minuscule way… it made him feel better.
There was dead silence from below him, as though Kaminari had been shocked speechless. Then, his voice almost cracking with astonishment, he burst out with: “Are you dying Bakugou?!” And it set him off again, laughing until he could finally, actually yell.
“Shut the hell up Dunce-face! I swear, only you, you walking water hazard, only you!”
He heard Kaminari start to giggle, his sobs turning into hiccups, and then they were both laughing like idiots. On the one hand it felt like a halfway hysterical release of emotions, as their stress and anxiety reached its peak. And on the other hand, it felt like a sigh of relief, the sealing of a promise that they'd be alright on the other end of this nightmare.
“I–I think we're going crazy, Bakugou,” Kaminari snickered, as their fit of laughter finally petered out. Bakugou could hear the grin in his voice, could hear the way it mirrored his own as he stared up into the ceiling tiles. He'd deny this moment till his dying breath later, but for now, it was a welcome reprieve.
“It's a short trip for you,” he said calmly, and now all evidence of Kaminari's tears were gone as he snorted in response.
“Hey! I was gonna say–say that! We've been stuck here for way too long; now you're stealing my…jokes…” He trailed off, interrupted by a sudden far-off sound. The air went suddenly tense with hushed anxiety.
“Did you–did you hear that Bakugou?” His voice was low, haunted.
“Yeah.” Bakugou held his breath, straining to listen. “Sounded like it came from somewhere at the top.”
“Bakugou,” Kaminari started; his voice was shaking again, “I think–I think that was–”
And then everything went to hell in fifteen seconds of pure, torturous noise.
—————
A sound like the shot of a rifle–
a metal plated platform struck violently, rattling like artificial thunder–
wire cables straining and swinging in their screeching hinges–
and Kaminari screaming in pain.
The screaming was what brought Bakugou back to reality. It had all gone down too fast for him to even comprehend what had happened. Staring through the gaping wall in abject horror, he was finally able to piece it together. Earlier he'd noticed the four thin lines stretching up into the sky just in front of him, deducing them to be the support cables of the window-washing platform. One of them was now gone, the other three swaying under the force of its breaking. Even as he watched they quivered and shook, and Kaminari's agonized screams reached a crescendo below him.
His sight dimmed suddenly as black spots swam in his eyes and he stopped short in shock. He hadn't even realized he'd been pulling himself forward, straining to reach the edge of the floor until the pain in his leg almost caused him to black out again.
“KAMINARI!” He shouted, desperate to be heard over the excruciating screams of his friend, and the frantic pounding of his own heart, “KAMINARI, WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?!”
“MY–MY LEG!” Kaminari babbled, barely coherent in his pain, “IT HURTS–BAD, IT HURTS SO MUCH, I HAVE–HAVE TO–TO–AAAGGHHH!!”
The rattling, metallic clatter of the shuddering platform was drowned out by his scream, a scream so loud and tortured and so laced with fear and anger that it was almost the howl of an animal.
“KAMINARI!” Bakugou pulled forward again, as far as he dared, panting from the spiking pain in his head and heart. His mouth was full of blood; somehow he'd bitten through his tongue without realizing it. He spat on the floor, spraying his clenched fists with scarlet droplets.
“DENKI–!”
The metal platform clanked again, a single, short thunk, as though something had dropped on it heavily. Kaminari stopped screaming, the sounds morphing into whimpering, gasping half-sobs.
“Kaminari!” Bakugou was going to RIP his own damn leg right off– “Tell me what's going on!”
“The bar–in my leg–!” Kaminari was gasping, his voice in shreds. Bakugou had to strain to make out what he said. “The–cable, when i-it broke–the bar–moved–in my–in my leg …and it h-hurt so BAD and I had to pull– pull it out, I HAD to!” A sob. Bakugou felt like he was going to be sick. “There's so–so much blood Baku-gou! It-it's everywhere–! I can't s-stop it–!”
“Your jacket!” Bakugou barked, his voice sharp with urgency, “Take it off and tie it around your leg, now! NOW!”
Kaminari didn't respond, but the platform began to shake under his movements. Bakugou watched the shivering cables, feeling more helpless than ever before. From below Kaminari gave a strangled, stifled shriek, before lapsing into choking, irregular breaths that wheezed in his lungs.
“I-it's still bleeding–!” he gasped, almost breathless under the pain, “I can't–can't–!” His words cut off abruptly as Bakugou slammed his fist into the floor again.
“Pull it tighter!” he commanded, “Screw the pain, tie it as tight as you can, got it?!”
Kaminari groaned in answer, the sound forced through gritted teeth. His metal cage shook again, railings clanging under his foot as he braced himself.
“I got this, I got this,” he muttered, his clenched jaw muffling the words, “Just– take the ends– and– PULL!”
BANG! Bakugou almost startled, watching the cables sway under the force of Kaminari's arm hitting the railing. He did startle when Kaminari started yelling again, this time out of sheer, damned defiance. Bakugou was almost proud.
“Come on Sparky!” he roared, and his yell blended with Kaminari's until they were both screaming together in anger and frustration and outright stubbornness. For a moment, it almost felt good. Like the sealing of a second promise. A promise that they'd get through this, whatever the hell it took to do so.
The scream ended in Kaminari's strangled yelp. Something thunked against the platform again, and for a tense, excruciating moment, there was nothing. Then–
“I–I did it,” he sobbed at last and Bakugou sagged in relief, letting his forehead bow to press against the cool floor.
“Damnit Kaminari.” The words were barely above a whisper. His throat felt tight, his chest hurting under an unfamiliar weight as he listened to his friend's half-stifled tears of pain. “I hate this. I hate it so damn much.”
A minute later and Kaminari's wheezing, shuddering sobs began to shift a little. It almost sounded like he was trying to laugh again.
“I–I must be st-stupid,” he choked, and this time Bakugou hated the smile he heard in his voice. Hated how he still kept it up, even while in so much pain. Even when no one could see his stupid face anyway.
“I must b-be,” he went on, half-laughing, half-crying, “Cause–cause the w-whole time I've been cry–crying, all I can think a-bout, is how–how pretty the sky looks!” His voice faltered, quivering like fragile glass when it returned.
“The stars look so–so close, when you're this h-high up. So–so it kinda sucks when every–everything you s-see is blurry.”
Bakugou could feel his heart starting to hurt again.
“Shut the hell up Pikachu,” he said again. But this time he pushed his clenched fist against his mouth and whispered the words into it through gritted teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut until white spots exploded in the darkness. “Just shut up.”
Everything was worse now. Everything was so much worse. They didn't have time to wait for rescue now. Every second passing meant more blood seeping out of Kaminari's leg to soak into his jacket, every beat of his heart bringing him closer to fully bleeding out. At best, he had mere minutes to live–less if any of the three thin wires suspending him above certain death were to break as well.
They had to get out of here. Now.
“Denki.” His voice was steady, and he knew by the sudden catch in Kaminari's uneven breathing that he'd successfully caught his full attention. “We're getting out of here, now. We're not waiting around anymore.”
Kaminari was gasping, still struggling to steady his breathing. When he spoke, his voice was wet with tears.
“We're n-not waiting for–for rescue any-more?”
“Nope, we're not,” Bakugou said firmly, “I'm getting us both out of here right freaking now. Starting with blowing up this damn junk on my leg!”
“I–I thought the building was–was gonna fall down if you ex-exploded anything.”
“Let it,” Bakugou growled, “Once my leg is free, I'm jumping out the building, grabbing you, and then using my blasts to keep us airborne until we can land without dying.”
There was a pause.
“...is that gonna w-work?”
“Of course it's gonna work!” Bakugou exploded, “The hell are you doubting me for Drooly?!”
“...I've–I’ve just never s-seen you tr-try it before.”
It was true that he'd never attempted to fly while carrying someone before, much less someone who was currently dying of blood loss. Honestly, he'd never admit it, but the idea made him–he wouldn't say scared, but–sort of uneasy.
But that didn't matter. None of it mattered, because this was their only option. This was Kaminari's only option.
“Look, shut up,” he snarled bluntly, “Quit whining and brace yourself, cause I'm doing this! Whether you like it or not, got it?!”
He didn't wait for a reply, turning to face forward again, and fixing a death glare on the immediate obstacle. He'd spent enough time studying the rubble entombing his leg to formulate a strategy for getting rid of it. He'd have to disintegrate the top chunks first or they'd just fall back around, trapping his leg again. He pressed his hand against the concrete, letting his palm burn with rising energy.
“Okay Katsuki.”
The words were so quiet, almost a whisper. He stopped, hand still poised, gaze still fixed on the cold concrete growing warm beneath his fingers.
“If you say you'll do it, then I know you'll do it,” Kaminari huffed, almost laughing, “‘ts like you gotta second quirk or something. The do-it-all-y’rself-or-die-tryin’ quirk. Betcha wouldn't even lemme help if I could.” His words were starting to slur, the blood still slipping far too fast from his veins, but still he smiled. “So okay. J'st do y’r thing and fly us outta here, Blasty!”
There was a beat of silence, the words lingering in the air. There was something in them, a feeling that still sort of scared him with its unfamiliarity. It demanded attention, to be thought out and dealt with. But there wasn't any time for that now.
Bakugou let his palm ignite.
A thick cloud of smoke and dust followed his blast, but he ignored the urge to cough, pushing past the faint ringing in his ears to listen intently. The building shivered slightly, then steadied almost immediately.
After several tense seconds, he let his shoulders relax, pressing his hand to the heap again.
“Gotta do it again Sparky,” he called over his shoulder, “Just–”
From somewhere high above them came the horrible sound of something giving way.
The metal platform creaked loudly, and Bakugou felt his blood run ice cold.
Kaminari made a quiet, breathy noise, brief and despairing, and almost a laugh.
“Well, damn,” he said softly, almost hazily, “Don't f'rget t’ catch me, yeah?”
The snap of the cable breaking loose was the worst sound Bakugou had ever heard.
In a roaring flash of orange fire and black smoke the concrete shattered like china. His skin blistered under the heat, but he barely noticed. On hands and knees he flung himself forward please, please just reach him–!
And then he was launching himself over the side of the opening, sending explosion after explosion behind him to speed up, uncaring if the whole damn building collapsed after him. Kaminari was falling several feet below him, arms stretching up, reaching for him in a desperate, wordless plea. Bakugou flew toward him, just as desperate. They collided, and plummeted together, clinging to each other like drowning men to their last breaths. The wind roared in their ears as they fell, dropping like sunk stones through the dying rays of the evening sun.
“Don't let go,” Bakugou yelled, close to Kaminari's ear to be sure he was heard, “Got that Dunce-face? Don't you dare let go!”
Kaminari didn't answer, but his arms tightened even further around Bakugou's back. There wasn't any time for a better response, the ground already rushing hungrily to meet them. Pointing both palms down and slightly behind them, Bakugou shot off explosion after explosion in quick succession until the force of the blasts finally pushed them upwards, slowing their violent descent. It was only a brief opportunity, a momentary weakening of control over the speed of their fall, but Bakugou latched onto it. His next blast sent them flying forward, away from the rain of crumbling concrete and debris, drowning out the sound of the last two cables snapping loose. As the platform smashed into the ground, he fired again, not quite able to bury the crash of metal with the noise of his explosion. He felt Kaminari flinch, then tighten his grip, but neither of them spoke out loud.
Over and over he fired, almost rhythmically, focusing on letting them drop lower and lower between each subsequent blast. They sailed over the streets, falling in arcs like the steps of a descending giant, farther and farther from the skyscraper, still pulled ever downward by gravity's relentless force.
He felt Kaminari's grip slacken for a second. One arm shot up automatically, almost crushing the smaller boy to his chest.
“Almost there Sparky,” he murmured, steadying his free arm, eyes narrowing in focus as he pushed past the moment of sudden panic, “Just one more time should do it.”
They were beginning to pick up speed again, the ground rushing to meet them, but Bakugou held his aim, concentrating on building up the perfect charge in his hand, waiting for the exact moment to fire it.
Closer…closer…closer…
Boom!
He released the charge in his hand in one last explosion directly below them. The force sent them shooting up and out in a shallow, horizontal arc. He adjusted his arm around Kaminari's waist, bringing up the other one to curl protectively around his friend's head. Angling his body so that Bakugou would hit the ground first, he tightened his grasp once more, shut his eyes, and finally let himself go limp.
His shoulder hit the pavement first and he rolled immediately, ignoring the screaming pain in his left leg as he kept moving, turning. Over and over and over– keep Kaminari's head from hitting the pavement, ignore the pain, just roll–over and over–let the momentum fade, don't fight it yet, don't pass out– slowing, slowing, slowing.
Stop.
And breathe.
Safe. Finally safe.
The asphalt was cold against his temple, almost soothing to his aching head, and he kept his eyes shut. Far off in the distance he could hear approaching shouts and sirens, their ‘rescuers’ finally having managed to scrape their act together. The ruined skyscraper, robbed of its victims, groaned and shuddered, more pieces breaking loose to join the rubble gathering at its base in disjointed, thundering crashes.
He ignored it all, letting it fade into the background, pulling in another breath, the scent of nitroglycerin sweat and explosions filling his nose. He pushed this away too, took another breath, and let all his attention focus, zeroing in. Till all he could smell was static electricity and far too much blood. Till all he could feel was a warm body still wrapped in his trembling arms. Till all he could hear were shaky, uneven breaths too out of sync to be his own. Kaminari, still alive, still breathing, and somehow (impossibly so) still conscious.
Both of them. Safe. Finally safe.
Neither one of them moved, still holding on to each other as the voices came closer and closer, and their breathing grew steadier and steadier.
“Hey.” Bakugou said at last, “You good?” His voice was little more than a gruff whisper, but Kaminari reacted after several seconds with a tiny, almost imperceptible nod, his soft hair brushing Bakugou's chin.
“...kay.” Bakugou murmured. Kaminari made a soft sound, almost like a huff of laughter, but Bakugou chose to ignore it, lapsing back into silence.
Safe. Safe. Safe.
The skyscraper creaked again, more ominously this time, and Bakugou eased his eyelids open, blinking in the early twilight that bathed the city in purple and orange. Slowly, painfully, he raised his pounding head, turning his burning eyes to watch the doomed building sway under a cold night wind. More fragments shook loose, but this time the structure failed to stabilize, metal screaming against metal as multiple support struts began to buckle. It was a hypnotic, horrifying sight, and even knowing he'd gotten them far out of the fallout zone, it sent a stab of fear through Bakugou's heart as he watched, unable to turn away from the death throes of that wretched casket.
The sensation of bloody fingers tightening in the back of his jacket broke the spell and he glanced back down. Weakly, as if every action pained him, Kaminari shifted in his arms, tilting his head away from where it pressed against Bakugou's collarbone. Their eyes met and Kaminari's lips moved, trying to form a sentence in a voice barely above a whisper. Bakugou blinked.
“...what?” The word came out abruptly, rough as sandpaper, his voice thick with dust and sharp with still fading adrenaline(not worry). He leaned his head closer to hear better, and froze at the sudden sob that shook his friend's body.
“Hey! Wh–!” He jolted back, ignoring the resulting flare of pain, heart already thudding with concern again.
The skyscraper groaned one last time. The cry drowned out by an ear splitting crack as its final supports gave way. Bakugou heard it give, but he didn't look. Instead, he watched a smile like a weary sun spread over Kaminari's face. Even as streams of tears carved wobbly paths over his dusty, blood-streaked cheeks, Kaminari didn't let it waver. And in the final seconds of silence before the building hit the ground, he spoke, exhaustion slurring his words.
“...Said…thanks f’r…savin’ me… Kacch’n…”
His eyes slipped shut. And as the roar of inevitable destruction rose louder and louder around them, Bakugou began to yell.
——————
The last of the debris hit the ground as the first rescuers finally reached the two boys, its rumbling, shuddering sound fading in the clouds of dust. Even as they were still several meters away they could hear Bakugou ranting and swearing, though seemingly not at them.
“...stupid dumbass IDIOT, don't freaking tell me thanks! Don't tell me you're sorry and you thought I died you drooly, braindead, short-circuiting, discount PIKACHU! Tell me again you think the sky is pretty and I'll freaking KILL you, you moron loser piece of–!”
Not even the insistent, urging questions of the paramedics and heroes surrounding him could dissuade his tirade. He didn't even glance at them, furious words spilling from his mouth like molten lava, insults spat like flying sparks. He didn't let up for a second until the last of his adrenaline finally ebbed away, and he sank back into deep, blessed oblivion.
And yet, it wasn't hard to notice how he held Kaminari, closer and tighter than he'd ever held anyone.
Or how his anger wasn't quite hot enough to burn away the streams of tears winding down his dusty face.
Or how his voice kept cracking with more than just the layer of soot and dust coating his throat.
Or the way Kaminari, dead to the world, his leg soaked in drying blood, kept on smiling like the setting sun.