Chapter Text
He always ends up back here, with anger lighting a useless fire in his chest and his wrists strapped to the chair. It’s dark and his vision is blurry, but he knows where he is. He always knows where he is. He’s never anywhere else.
People are talking to him, poking at him. The room smells musty and he needs to be saved and he hates that he needs to be saved. He tries and tries to suffocate the building fear in his chest, tries to smother it with irritation, but he can’t stop it. He can’t stop wanting to be saved, even though he knows who will save him and what it will cost. Every moment he just wants out.
All Might will be here soon, and Bakugo can’t stop it. This will play out the same as always; no amount of guilt or anger or foresight will change it. Nothing will wake him up. There’s so much silence yet so much noise. People are crowding him and someone is yelling.
Someone is yelling?
Bakugo snaps his head up. He tries to stare through his muddled vision. He knows that voice. It’s muffled and distant, but he recognizes it. It’s too soon. It’s too soon for him to be here. Bakugo’s chest tightens with a new fear, uncertainty.
He tries to find the source of the noise but Shigaraki is in front of him and drawing closer. The voice shouts again and his stomach twists. Is this a new version of this nightmare? What if things are different this time, what if they’re worse? Is he here? Is he hurt?
There’s a clang, sounds of metal, sounds of a scuffle, but Bakugo’s hands are still pinned and Shigaraki is getting closer. It sounds like something hits glass, but the League hideout has no windows. Shigaraki reaches for him, and he knows this one ends differently. He knows he won’t even make it to be tormented by All Might’s death.
“Bakugo!”
His eyes shoot open. He heaves with an intensity that throws him out of bed. He lands hard on the floor on his hands and knees, panting as he catches his breath.
“Fuck,” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. He fell asleep scrolling on his phone, which means it has been knocked to the floor with him in his thrashing. He fumbles for it, flipping it over and wincing as the bright screen hurts his eyes. His lock screen comes into focus. It’s a blurry selfie Kirishima took, where he’s only half a sharp-toothed smile and a smear of red in the bottom corner. His eyes look up towards Bakugo, who is chasing him down in the background to get his phone back. Kirishima set it as his wallpaper before Bakugo successfully got his device back. He hasn’t bothered to change it since. Pulling his stare from the image, he reads the time.
1:34 a.m.
“Shit,” he groans, falling back to sit in a heap. He drags his clammy hands across his face, trying to wring the last of his nightmare out of his skin.
“Hey…you awake in there?” a muffled voice calls again.
Bakugo snaps his head up, dropping his elbows onto his knees. He glances towards the sound. He shoves himself to his feet and approaches the door to his balcony. He tugs the curtain open, and his eyes drop to a fluff of red.
He flicks the lock on the door and tugs it open, glaring down at the presence. “Shitty Hair. What the fuck are you doing?”
Kirishima is leaning over the space between their balconies. His feet are still planted on his own with his legs jammed through the bars, but his elbows rest on the outside of Bakugo’s railing. He grins up at him like it isn’t 1 a.m.
“Just saying hi.”
Bakugo steps back into his room and grabs the side of the door. “Goodbye.”
“Wait, wait!” Kirishima calls, waving a hand frantically. Lifting one elbow throws off his balance. Bakugo’s hold on the doorframe tightens as Kirishima wobbles. “Don’t leave yet.”
“Why the hell shouldn’t I?” Bakugo snaps. “Go back to your room before you fall and die, idiot.”
Kirishima laughs. “See, that’s the problem. I crawled over here to say hi, and really I’d go back now if I could, honest! But I’m stuck.”
Bakugo takes a slow breath. He stares down at him. “You’re stuck.”
Kirishima hums affirmatively as he nods.
Bakugo smirks. “You got yourself in this situation, Shitty Hair.” Kirishima yelps as Bakugo kicks the railing hard enough to wobble. “Why the hell should I help you out of it?”
“What do you mean?” Kirishima shouts. “Because I’m your best friend and you don’t want me to fall four floors, man!”
“You’d harden before you hit the ground.” Bakugo leans against the glass as he crosses his arms. “It’d take more than four floors to kill you.”
“Not the kind of encouragement I’m looking for here, Explody.”
“Call me names and I’m definitely not helping you.”
“How is that fair? You call me names all the time!”
Bakugo scoffs and looks away, making a show of spinning on his heel as if he intends to ditch Kirishima again. The redhead stammers and pleads until Bakugo looks back at him.
“Please!” Kirishima begs. He makes a show of tugging one ankle out from between the bars of his own balcony and reaching a hand out to Bakugo. “If I fall Aizawa’s gonna be pissed at both of us!”
“Why would he be mad at me? I didn’t do shit!” Bakugo growls.
“Guilty by association, dude.”
“You’re such a damn cheater.”
“It’s not like I did this on purpose!” Kirishima opens and closes his outstretched hand, like a baby reaching for a toy. “I just need you to help me keep my balance so I can climb over the railing.”
“Huh?” Bakugo shouts. “Climb over? Why the hell are you coming over here? I’m going back to bed!”
“It’s easier than trying to get back to my own balcony.”
“Too bad!” Bakugo snaps.
“Wait, wait!” Kirishima laughs as he lunges forward. The action tugs his other foot free, and Bakugo sees the second he registers his mistake. His elbow gives and his chest hits the railing. He slides fast as his feet slip into the gap between the two balconies. His eyes go wide as he starts to fall, only one hand still clinging to Bakugo’s railing.
“Kirishima!”
The name tears from Bakugo’s throat as he throws himself forward, hand clamping tight around Kirishima’s wrist a second before his grip slips. His body lurches as he becomes the only thing holding Kirishima’s weight, bracing himself against the railing with a hand and his stomach as he clings. His hands are still sweaty, they’re always sweaty, and his chest tightens with real panic as he feels Kirishima start to slip. Then the boy turns his wrist in Bakugo’s hold and grabs him in return. Kirishima catches one of the bars of the balcony with his free hand, finally stabilizing himself and halting his fall.
Both of them are still and silent for a beat. They cling to each other, breaths forming small clouds in the cool night air as the tension lingers.
Kirishima looks at the ground far below him before he meets Bakugo’s eyes again and grins. “Nice catch, bro.”
“You absolute…fucking…dumbass,” Bakugo huffs.
“This is kind of like that one scene in Romeo and Juliet,” Kirishima says. “You know, the balcony scene.”
“This is nothing like the balcony scene,” Bakugo grumbles. “Have you ever fucking read that play?”
“No,” Kirishima admits. “Okay, I’m coming up. Hold on.” He adjusts his grip on Bakugo’s arm before he starts to clamber up the side of the railing. It leaves Bakugo to support most of his weight as he finds his footing, and he curses the sweat on his palms again.
“If you fall I’m going to murder you,” Bakugo mumbles.
Kirishima stills with one leg hooked over the railing, smirking up at him. “I guess you could say I’m…falling for ya.”
“On second thought, I’m going to drop you,” Bakugo says, tightening his grip.
“Wait, wait, I take it back!” Kirishima laughs, finally getting his hips and other leg over the side. With one sharp tug from Bakugo, they’re both stumbling back into the sliding door. Bakugo’s winded as Kirishima collides with him. The redhead’s hands fumble over Bakugo’s chest until he catches his shoulders and they both find their balance. There is a second of them staring at each other, noses almost touching, until Bakugo realizes Kirishima is on solid ground now. He lets go of his hand and shoves him away.
“I just saved your ass. Thank me by getting the hell out of my room,” Bakugo says.
“Aw, come on! I wanted to talk to you!” Kirishima whines, trailing after Bakugo as he stalks into the room. Kirishima slides the door shut and locks it behind him.
“Why?”
Kirishima shrugs and Bakugo groans, rolling his eyes.
“If it wasn’t urgent you should have waited until morning like a normal fucking person.”
“It was urgent! I was dying.”
Bakugo gives him a quick once-over before he raises an eyebrow. “You look fine to me—”
“Of boredom, Bakugo! You go to bed so early and there’s no one else on this floor to hang out—”
“You’re so damn needy. Just knock for fuck’s sake.”
“I did! But you didn’t answer and your door was locked—”
“Because I was fucking sleeping—”
“Not well, by the sounds of it!” Kirishima blurts.
Bakugo freezes, shoulders going stiff as he crosses his arms tighter. Kirishima bites down on his lip as soon as the words escape. Bakugo glares, trying to withhold any panic from leaking into his expression. How much had Kirishima heard?
The boy looks away, frowning. “I’m sorry, I—”
“If I wake you up, throw something at the wall next time,” Bakugo snaps. He turns away and marches for his bed. “I’ll get the fucking memo.”
“Hey, wait—” Kirishima stammers. “That’s not what I meant.”
Bakugo slumps onto the edge of his bed, unsure if he believes him. “Whatever, Shitty Hair,” he mutters. Hesitantly, he meets Kirishima’s stare. His chest does something painful. Kirishima looks so goddamn earnest, like he’ll turn the whole world upside down before he blames Bakugo for his lack of sleep. It’s probably true, and that thought makes Bakugo more upset than any other possibility. He doesn’t know how to face Kirishima’s constant caring. He hates that every time he turns it down and watches what he’s seeing right now—the slump of Kirishima’s shoulders, the slight step away, the darting away of his dark red eyes—he feels a strange sense of loss.
“Right. I guess I should let you get back to bed,” Kirishima mutters. Bakugo picks up his phone, opening it and staring at nothing. Doing anything so he doesn’t have to watch Kirishima so closely.
Still, out of the corner of his eye he sees Kirishima tug at the ends of his hair as he turns for the door. He makes it only a few steps before he’s looking back. “… I hope you know that if something’s wrong…”
Bakugo’s eyes flick to him, then quickly return to his phone screen. “I’m fine, Shitty Hair,” he says.
“I know! I know you are, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying, man, and I know…” Kirishima sighs. Bakugo watches him swallow whatever he’d planned to say. “Just…I’m always right next door.”
Bakugo looks at him again, and though he has every intention of glaring and growling, neither happen. It hardly matters, his anger has never kept Kirishima away before. “I know you are, Kirishima.”
“Okay...good.” Kirishima gives a weak smile. He tugs the door open and steps into the hall with a small, quick wave. “Goodnight Bakugo.”
“Night,” he mutters back. Slowly, the door swings shut. Bakugo is left alone again.
When he finally falls back asleep, the nightmare doesn’t return. In the morning, when he wakes peacefully, he’s almost grateful for Kirishima’s interruption.