Chapter Text
Bakugou could feel the press of his ribs against the inside of his chest every time he took a breath. He felt like he had been hit by a bus—ears ringing and a dizzy, hollow ache settled right behind his eyes. After his battle with Deku at Ground Beta, they had been brought back to Alliance Heights by All Might, to be reprimanded by Aizawa-sensei. Not long after they had both been thoroughly lectured and assigned house arrest, they had all gone to bed for the night. Bakugou had stayed, sitting silently in the darkness, leg bouncing like it was trying to shake the tension out. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there when Kirishima found him.
When Kirishima entered the common room, he tried to move as quietly as possible so as to not wake anyone in the late hour. He padded lightly toward the kitchen and flicked on the light switch, intending to just grab a glass of water before going back to bed. For a moment, he didn’t even notice anything amiss until he turned toward the sink with his glass in hand, and over the counter he was met with a beat and battered Bakugou sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the wall like he wasn’t sure it was really there.
“Woah– Bakugou!” Kirishima exclaimed, setting his glass back on the counter with a clink. His stomach dropped at the sight—slumped posture, split lip, knuckles scraped raw. “Dude, what the hell happened?”
When Bakugou didn’t answer or even look at him, Kirishima started to round the counter and make his way towards the living room couch, steps slow and careful, as if approaching a wounded animal. Even standing right next to him, Bakugou didn’t give any acknowledgement that he heard him or pull his stare away from the far wall. Kirishima paused in uncertainty for just a moment before moving to place a hand on his shoulder, after which Bakugou finally lifted his head. He didn’t immediately shrug off touch, which was concerning all on its own.
“Bro, are you okay?” Kirishima asked, voice softening instinctively.
Bakugou blinked as if he were just seeing him for the first time. He looked away and gave a loose, half-hearted shrug.
“I’m gonna be real with you, man,” Kirishima frowned, furrowing his brows, “you look like shit.”
That earned him a red-eyed glare, but there was no real heat behind it. “Fuck off, Shitty Hair.”
Kirishima rolled his eyes with a light chuckle, relieved to see even a flicker of normalcy. “Yeah, yeah.” He slid his hand down to Bakugou’s forearm and tugged. “Come on, dude. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Bakugou begrudgingly allowed Kirishima to pull him down the hall and into his room, where Kirishima promptly sat him down on the bed and instructed him to wait while he disappeared into the ensuite. Bakugou sat on the other boy's bed in silence for a moment, before Kirishima reappeared, first aid kit in hand.
“So,” Kirishima said as he plopped down next to Bakugou on the bed and started with cleaning the burns on the inside of his palms, “you wanna tell me what happened?”
Bakugou didn’t answer. Seeing his hesitation, Kirishima sighed through his nose, before moving on to the bruises on his arms. “Listen, man. I’m not gonna force you. I just wanna help. I promise I’m not gonna judge you or tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about. I mean– We’re bros, right?”
Bakugou seemed to consider this before he crossed his arms roughly over his chest with a tight grimace. He huffed out a short breath and looked up at the ceiling to avoid Kirishima’s burning gaze. “I fought Deku.”
Kirishima’s expression softened. “Oh, dude.”
Bakugou’s face pinched into a scowl, still avoiding eye contact. “I already know. Don’t start.”
“Okay, man, geez! Can’t a guy be concerned about his bro? Damn.” Kirishima mumbled with a scoff. He hesitated for a moment, before setting the first aid kit to the side. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Bakugou rubbed his hands over his face roughly before burying one in his hair and letting himself collapse backward onto the mattress with a punched-out groan. “No. Maybe. I don’t know,” He bit out.
Kirishima crawled his way further up the bed, moving to lay shoulder-to-shoulder with him. When Bakugou looked over at him, he tilted his head in silent encouragement as he wiggled his way against the headboard in an effort to get comfortable.
“It’s dumb.” Bakugou grunted. “ I’m not allowed to talk about most of it.”
Kirishima cocked an eyebrow curiously at that, but didn’t push, just nodded his head slowly. “Okay. So, tell me the important bits.”
Bakugou flicked his gaze back towards the ceiling and let out a world-weary sigh. “I dragged him out to Ground Beta and made him fight me.”
He swallowed. “He is getting stronger, but that’s not how it’s supposed to be. I’m supposed to be the best. He’s supposed to be looking up at me, not the other way around.”
His voice cracked roughly. “When we were kids, we were equals. Then I got my quirk and he didn’t. Suddenly I had something he didn’t, and he was still better than me. If he can be so good without anything, then what the hell does that make me? I’m nothing without my quirk.”
He clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles whitened. “Why does he get a mom who loves him? Why does he get friends? Why does he get to be All Might’s favorite? What’s wrong with me that I don’t deserve those things?”
His voice dropped to a whisper. “Sometimes I think, maybe I’m just a bad person.”
Kirishima turned his head toward him. “Bakugou. You’re not a bad person.”
“You don’t get it. I was so terrible to him. I did some really bad stuff.”
Kirishima considered that for a moment, then nodded once. “Maybe. But you are trying so hard, I’ve seen it. I mean– You’re here talking to me about this right now. You never would have done that at the beginning.”
“You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew.”
Kirishima narrowed his eyes slightly, jaw set in place. “Try me.”
Bakugou swallowed hard. “I told him to kill himself. When we were in middle school.”
Kirishima didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Bakugou had led with the worst thing he could think of—the thing that weighed on him the most, the thing that sat like a stone in his chest—expecting it to drive Kirishima away. But Kirishima wasn’t looking at him with disgust or anger or pity. Just steady, grounded attention. He wasn’t leaving. If that didn’t send him running, what else would?
Kirishima exhaled. “I’m not gonna lie to you, man. That’s really messed up.”
Bakugou looked away, grinding his back teeth together, and said nothing.
“Do you regret it? Saying that to him?” Kirishima asked softly.
“Yes,” he muttered reluctantly, bitter and ashamed.
“Then I would call that progress.” Kirishima said. “Don’t get me wrong, it definitely doesn’t make it okay, but it does count for something.”
At that, Bakugou let out a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding.
“Look, I know I’m– Something’s broken up here, right?” He tapped against a finger to the side of his head with a humorless laugh. “But I– Fucking– I wasn’t always like this, you know?”
Kirishima waited.
“It’s not normal in my family to talk about shit like this.”
Kirishima’s brows pinched. “That doesn’t seem super healthy, man.”
Bakugou’s head snapped toward him, eyes flashing. “Don’t you think I fucking know that?” His voice cracked on the last word, more wounded than angry. “I don’t know how to be like the rest of you. I only know what she taught me.”
The room went quiet.
Bakugou’s breath came out sharp, like he’d been holding it too long. His hands curled into fists in his lap, knuckles white. He looked like he was bracing for impact—like saying even that much had left him exposed and raw. “You guys—you and Deku and everyone—you talk about feelings like it’s nothing. Like it’s normal. Like it doesn’t make your skin crawl.”
He swallowed hard, jaw clenching with the effort of keeping himself together. “I didn’t grow up with that.”
Kirishima shifted closer, slow and deliberate, giving Bakugou every chance to pull away. “You don’t have to be tough with me, man.”
“It’s. Hard for me. To talk about.” Bakugou ground out, teeth clenched and shoulders tense.
Kirishima had learned a lack of outright refusal was Bakugou’s way of saying yes, so he continued on. “You don’t have to tell me everything all at once. What if you just tell me one thing for now? Something about when you were a kid—anything you want.”
Bakugou looked over at him with tired, heavy eyes.
The guy made it impossible to keep his walls up. Damn Kirishima and his stupid big arms and stupid soft eyes. Goddamnit.
“Fucking fine. One thing.” He huffed, tearing his gaze away like the act of looking at Kirishima physically weakened him.
He sat there for a moment, jaw tight, searching for a place to start.
“Fucking– Okay, I was a difficult kid, right? Angry. Overwhelmed. They just didn’t really know how to deal with someone like me.” His voice thinned at the edges, like he was trying to keep it steady by force alone. He paused, swallowing once before continuing. “Once, when I was four, I mouthed off in the kitchen. The old hag shoved me and we started screaming at each other."
He could still see it—bright kitchen lights, the smell of miso soup, the sharp sting of being pushed by someone twice his size. His hands curled unconsciously in his lap.
“She just kept getting angrier and angrier, and I wasn’t about to be the one to back down.” His lip curled in a humorless half-smirk. “I guess I must’ve said something that really pissed her off, because all of a sudden she was dragging me down the hallway by my hair.”
His voice dropped, quieter. “Locked me in my room until the next morning.”
The memory hung in the air, heavy and sour. Bakugou didn’t look at him—didn’t dare. His shoulders were rigid, like he was bracing for rejection..
Kirishima’s face twisted. “That’s… Really shitty, man.”
Bakugou leveled him with a tired glare. “No shit.”
Kirishima barked a laugh. Bakugou’s mouth twitched into a small smile before he forced it away.
“I know I don’t react to things the way people are supposed to,” Bakugou muttered. “It’s something I’m fucking working on.”
Kirishima only hummed in response. “You should sleep here tonight, man.”
“Fucking– Whatever, Shitty Hair.” His face was red and strained, but he didn’t get up to leave, so Kirishima took it as a win.