REWIND
Fuck.
Katsuki flung his arm over his eyes and groaned.
Not this shit. Not again.
His heart was still stammering, beating so hard in his chest that it was painful, sweat beading on his forehead, palms smoking. It hurt to breathe, the air catching in his throat over and over again, with every inhale. They hadn't even been in the dorms for a full 12 hours yet, and his subconscious had already decided to go and be a complete fuck-up.
Stupid fucking fear response. Stupid fighting instincts. Goddamn quirk was too loud, and of course he just had to let out the most undignified yelp ever. And he had neighbors now.
Fuuuuck.
Katsuki closed his eyes with a huff, trying to settle down under the covers again. But then there were shapes, faces, the shadows of his nightmares reaching out to him, threatening to take him back, claim him. His eyes snapped open again. Looks like he wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon. Shit.
This shit had better fucking stop.
Fucking hell.
Katsuki panted, taking in what breath his lungs could manage, trying to shake off the disturbing images that chilled him to the bone. It was the same goddamn thing, all over again. Nightmares, or whatever. He rolled to his side, clutching a pillow, doing everything he could to stop the adrenaline that felt like it was pumping through his veins by the gallon.
The only way he could restrain himself from blowing up his pillow: Breathe in, breathe out.
Eight counts in. Eight counts out.
In.
Out.
Right as his system was finally starting to return to normal, the closing of a door in the hallway snapped him to alertness. Sounded like a neighbor.
No way. No fucking way. He was Bakugou Fucking Katsuki. There was no way someone would risk waking him up to ask about the noise disturbances. Not unless Anal Glasses happened to be his neighbor. Or nosey Shitty Hair. Katsuki didn't really pay attention to the room assignments, but there were a ton of guys in his class, so the chances were extremely unlikely.
There was a knock on his door. "Hey, Bakugou?"
God fucking dammit.
Honestly, the next few days were a blur. When it came to no sleep, it's at about the three day mark when Katsuki really started feeling the effects of exhaustion take over. Most of the time, he didn't know what day it was, and his brain kinda felt like it wanted to fucking pass-out on him all the damn time. It was freaky, but Katsuki wouldn't care too much except that it was starting to affect his training, and that was not going to fucking work.
And a certain piece of shit redhead thought it was a good idea to come prancing over to his room every night to ask about the disturbances. As if he didn't have enough shit to deal with.
Fucking stupid no-good piece of shit dreams. Fucking loud quirk. Fucking Shitty Hair butting his nose in places it doesn't belong. Shit. Shit.
Why did his quirk have to be so goddamn loud? Why couldn't Shitty Hair just leave him the fuck alone? Why did he even have these fucking stupid dreams in the first place? What was wrong with him?
And then Katsuki figured that there must have been something messed up in his brain because why wouldn't they go away? Pro Heroes didn't deal with this bullshit. Pro Heroes couldn't afford to deal with this bullshit. It was fucking pathetic is what it was. Weak. Fucking weak.
And then, Friday night, it was worse. Those thoughts started amplifying, manifesting in his dreams, faceless forms whispering to him, a constant drone of weak, pitiful, good-for-nothing, coward. He covered his ears, trying to stifle the taunts, trying to escape, but fingers wrapped in shadows pulled at him from behind, dragging him backwards, further and further away, no matter how much he struggled there was nothing he could do, he really was weak, and pathetic, worthless—
And when Katsuki jolted awake, crying out and shaking, he buried his face in his pillow. He was so close to fucking screaming into it, punching it, letting fists fly without anything holding him back. Let out frustration with every blow.
If only he were home, then he could keep his secret. He wanted to go home. Away from UA so he didn't have to be reminded of how goddamn average he was on a daily basis. Away from the dorms with prying ears. Away from nosey piece-of-shit Shitty Hair.
And then that motherfucker had to show up again. When shouting at him through the door to leave hadn't worked, Katsuki tried to cover the persistent knocks and callings with a pillow, but they still drilled into his ears and it was the single most fucking insufferable experience in his entire goddamn life. Fuck that.
With a snarl, Katsuki swung his feet to the ground and stomped his way to the door, wrenching it open, not caring about how miserable he probably looked.
And the sight of Shitty Hair definitely should not have made him feel as relieved as it did.
Yet, even when the guy had the nerve to step into his goddamn space, touch him, hug him... none of his Physical Contact Alarms were going off. There wasn't any panic, or discomfort, or urge to get away. There was only reassurance.
He was confused, and it was frustrating. Why was Shitty Hair bothering to comfort him, of all people? Why was he doing all of this? Why bother?
Katsuki realized that Shitty Hair cared. For some reason, the guy actually cared about him. And in that moment, as gentle arms surrounded him, making him feel safe and secure and cherished, Katsuki could feel his tough mask crack. It fell away in an instant, and he couldn't hold himself together anymore. Tears brimmed at his water line, overflowing and falling away silently.
It was all so overwhelming – a hug like this shouldn't make him feel so fucking much. He should have met the embrace with more protests, or at least bitter indifference, but... it felt nice. As if it was something he had been missing out on his entire life. So he brought his arms up, shakily, and allowed himself to melt into Kirishima for just a moment. And from Kirishima's whispered promises of secrecy, from the honesty that radiated from him, grew trust.
Although in hindsight, agreeing to the sleepover had been a fucking stupid idea. There was no way that he, Bakugou Fucking Katsuki, was going to allow himself to show any thread of vulnerability to some background character ever again. But he wasn't a fucking coward, either, so he couldn't exactly back out on his word. So with a disgruntled glower, the sleepover began.
And anyways. At least it was Shitty Hair. At least it was Kirishima, and not someone else.
So Katsuki slowly, carefully took apart his façade again, piece by piece, allowing himself to open up. Which was not something he had ever done before, for anyone. And maybe it was just the exhaustion, but in only a few minutes, it didn't matter that he was vulnerable. It didn't matter that he was exposing his insecurities, his deepest secrets, because it was Kirishima. Kirishima listened to him. Kirishima cared about him.
Maybe there really was something behind that therapy shit, because getting all of this off his chest felt good. Like weights that had been pressing down on him were lifting one by one with every word he said, his mask crumbling away faster and faster until nothing was left, and it was absolutely liberating.
And that night, in the midst of his nightmares were strong arms embracing him again, soft trailing fingers against his back, soothing whispers against his ears, the best sound he had ever heard, and the storms in his dreams calmed.
And after several hours, when Katsuki awoke to the dim, still-rising sun to strong arms around him, a head of soft hair on his chest, he knew that he should probably be very fucking disturbed by this development. But in his exhaustion, he couldn't find the will to push away.
And later that morning, when an alarm blared off, and the weight on top of him left the bed in a panic, leaving him feeling alone, Katsuki couldn't help but think that, maybe it was better when Kirishima was there with him, and that maybe... he wouldn't mind all that much if it happened again.
As a rule, Bakugou Fucking Katsuki didn't answer to anyone but himself. He didn't care what people thought of him. He didn't do what people told him to do. And he certainly did not take advice from fucking fuck-munches.
That should definitely include Kirishima. But, there was just something about Kirishima that made Katsuki want to reconsider a few things.
Like, the guy had some pretty fucking strong opinions on the magical powers of love and friendship, apparently, and just a few days ago, Katsuki would have scoffed it all away. But as the two of them maneuvered their way through a routine that morning, Katsuki couldn't stop himself from thinking: it's working fine for Shitty Hair, isn't it?
It didn't take long for Katsuki to realize that the something about Kirishima was his own guilt. Kirishima had done so much for him. He had risked his life to save him, offered to help him work through his nightmares, listened to his worst fears, swore to keep it all a secret, just between the two of them. The least he could do was not be an asshole towards the guy. And if Kirishima thought that he needed to make friends, then Katsuki would make himself some goddamn friends. How hard could it be?
But when he slammed his lunch-tray onto the table that day, and the Pink Girl and fucking Pikachu gave him a look, Katsuki had to reevaluate if this was all really worth it. He was out of his element, having to pretend to be invested in other people's lives, and those people were giving him a fucking look.
But Shitty Hair was there, and for whatever goddamn reason, he cared about Shitty Hair, so he sat down anyways. And then Kirishima was smiling at him, friendly and genuine and so bright that it was blinding, and he had to force his eyes away. A warmth blossomed in his chest like nothing he had ever felt before, and it quickly spread to his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
It was foreign, and really fucking disturbing too – it made him want to stay anchored by Kirishima's side like some sort of dog on a leash. But at the same time, he didn't want the feeling to go away. And Katsuki found himself wanting to listen to Kirishima, wanting to follow his lead and give him a reason to be proud, all the goddamn time. Wanting to do anything to make him give him a smile like that again, all dazzling like the sun.
So that's what he did.
During the days, he tried being more civil to his classmates, tried being more respectful. Tried making friends. It was difficult, really fucking difficult – sometimes, people were just so fucking stupid, or they gave him sass, or he just really did not care about how they viewed him. But he cared about how Kirishima thought of him, so he kept trying.
And every time he did something even remotely nice, Kirishima would give him a smile, the one that make him feel happy and warm all over again, and just a little bit proud of himself too.
And after the sun set, Katsuki allowed Kirishima to see him at his worst, his weakest, most pathetic, every night, over and over again, and that was okay. It was as if some outside forces were strung between them, drawing them together, nurturing some mutual understanding, respect, trust, and pretty soon, Katsuki started thinking of Kirishima as a friend. His first friend, really. Katsuki hadn't really ever had anyone like that before.
The only reason he was letting his guard down so much was because of how exhausted he was. At least, that's what he kept telling himself. It was certainly easier to accept than the truth.
But thanks to Kirishima, he was sleeping again, so with every night that passed, the excuse disintegrated even more. The truth was, Katsuki was acting like this because he wanted to. For Kirishima. And that pill was a lot harder to swallow. So he was just going to ignore it until it could not be ignored any longer.
Kirishima was dead. They had gotten to him, killed him, he was fucking dead, body limp and mutilated, and Katsuki wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he wanted to tear every single one of them apart with his bare hands like a rabid animal, rip at their flesh with his nails and make them explode from the inside out, he wanted to fight, destroy, kill, bring him back, bring him back, bring him back—
And when Katsuki woke from the nightmare and felt strong arms squeeze around him, tugging him closer, a soft voice whispering over and over again I'm here, I'm here, he really did cry. He wailed out into the night until his jaw and voice and chest and heart thrummed with pain, his brain foggy and disconnected and nothing felt real anymore. And he just breathed, in and out, in and out, until he could just barely hold the broken pieces of himself back together again.
This was bad.
Kirishima was becoming too important. He was getting into Katsuki's head, and Katsuki was letting him — even worse, he liked it. He liked Kirishima, liked his kindness, his trustworthiness. Liked how special Kirishima made him feel, how it seemed as though Kirishima cared about him with every fiber of his being. Liked Kirishima's smile, the one that brightened up his whole world, making him feel warm, and appreciated, and loved. He liked Kirishima, so, so much. Too much.
This was really fucking bad.
It was getting out of hand. This was going to have to stop. Maybe not that day, or the next, but it definitely had to stop, and soon.
But the next morning, his resolution shattered in a single instant.
"I'd like to think I know you, Bakugou."
Kirishima was a goddamn idiot.
"Despite how you act sometimes, you care about people. I can tell."
He could say it so easily. It didn't make sense.
"How could I see you as a villain, when you are trying so hard to be a hero?"
But in that moment, as he searched in Kirishima's eyes, Katsuki felt like he was seeing him for the first time, really seeing him. Something clicked, and everything just, snapped into place.
This was the first time anyone had ever seen him for who he really was. Not only that — this was the first time anyone had even tried.
Katsuki was mean, and rude, and he had bruises and thorns, and he was so fucking broken, and somehow, Kirishima still tried to understand him. Kirishima wasn't intimidated by the walls that he had build around himself -- he barged through them, ripped them down until Katsuki was exposed, vulnerable, bearing his soul, his heart, with thorns and bruises and all, and it was so so scary being open like that, but Kirishima didn't laugh. Kirishima didn't run away. In fact, Kirishima had run towards him, reached out a helping hand, offering a shoulder for support, in spite of everything. Somehow, Kirishima looked past his rough exterior, looked past the kind of person that Katsuki was, and instead saw within him the potential for Katsuki to be the kind of person that he wanted to be.
And in Kirishima's eyes, Katsuki found the an answer that maybe he hadn't been expecting.
I'm in love with this idiot.
"... Thank you," is all he could mumble.
And Kirishima smiled.
And that's all it took.
And apparently when Katsuki fell, he fell really fucking hard, and all at once. As a result, some of his judgments were probably a bit clouded. Like, agreeing to another sleepover, even thought he knew he shouldn't. One without the futon, no fucking less. God dammit.
Oh, and inviting himself out to dinner with the class, that had been fucking stupid, too. Everyone was being too nice to him, acting too comfortable around him, and it was starting to freak Katsuki out. But Kirishima was there.
And when Katsuki let his guard down and actually chuckled at God-knows-what, of course Kirishima had to notice. And their eyes met, and the doofus just had to give him one of his lopsided grins, and then Katsuki's stomach was doing flip-flops like he was going to be sick, his face heating up like some stupid character from a goddamn Shoujo and he had to look away before anyone saw.
It was fucking stupid is what it was. All of it. His own emotions felt alien to him, unlike anything Katsuki had ever felt before in his life, and he couldn't help any of it. It was scary, and above all, really fucking frustrating. But as the two stayed up talking, and then fell asleep together at last — as Katsuki allowed himself to indulge in selfishness — he slowly began to accept his new reality.
He liked Kirishima. A lot. Loved him, even. As a friend, or as something else, he sure as hell didn't know, and that was scary too. But even if his emotions were new, they were his, and only his, and it would be really fucking dumb if he tried denying something that was a part of him. The only thing he could do was accept it. So he did.
And as Kirishima's arms wound tighter around Katsuki even in his sleep, bringing them closer together, the soft scent of his shampoo comforting and relaxing, Katsuki sighed in content. This was definitely something he could get used to.
But then, fucking Pikachu had to ruin the goddamn moment.
Of course.
And Katsuki felt embarrassed, more embarrassed than he had ever felt in his entire life, so strong it was nearly paralyzing. He and Kirishima were friends, goddammit! Just friends. Kirishima would explain it to the guy, that there was nothing happening between them. Nothing. At all.
And shit. That really threw things into perspective.
He and Kirishima were just friends. And Kirishima was a really fucking nice guy — to everyone. He probably did shit like this for any friend who needed help. And Katsuki just had to go and be a fucking idiot and fall for it. Fall for him. Dammit. Dammit.
The idea of having to go through this alone really hurt though. Now that he had a glimpse of what it felt like to have someone care, actually care about him, having to let that go was not going to be fucking easy. But there were so many things that could go wrong with letting himself get too close to others. Especially Kirishima. And he would be really fucking dumb if he let his feelings control every action he ever made. Emotions couldn't be allowed to do that.
He had to learn how to fix himself without dependency. Without help. Without Kirishima.
So Katsuki called it off.
Katsuki discovered pretty quickly that Kirishima was kind of like an addiction. And he also discovered pretty quickly the hell that was withdrawaling. But no matter the number of sleepless nights, no matter how bad the nightmares, no matter how many times he awoke in a sweaty, blasty, hysterical mess, his brain crying out, I need you, I need you, I need you, he couldn't allow himself to relapse. No matter how much it hurt.
I need you. I need you.
He would lay in bed, every night, and everything would feel wrong. There was no-one there to talk to him, to bother him, to roll his eyes at or to embrace when his dreams came back. Kirishima was all he had, and now he had nothing. It hurt.
I need you.
He brought a hand to cover his mouth, stifling a sob.
I love you.
Why did it hurt so much?
"You could have just asked to meet me out here, ya know," he shrugged. "No need to man-handle me like that. I wouldn't have ran away."
Katsuki snorted. The way the guy's body moved, eyes darting to find an escape route, said otherwise.
"So, uh. What's up?"
And at that, Katsuki blinked. He hadn't really thought this far ahead yet, and it wasn't like he wanted to have this conversation anyways. But he was desperate. Wearing his usual scowl, he crossed his arms tightly against his chest. "Why do you look so fucking tense, Shitty-Hair?"
"Oh, so now I'm Shitty-Hair."
"Your hair is pretty damn shitty."
"Right." The blond standing across from him raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "It's Kaminari, by the way. In case you, I don't know, forgot or something."
And fucking hell, the sass was the last thing Katsuki needed right then, but the angel on his shoulder was beginning to sound a lot like Kirishima nowadays, so instead of physically lashing out like his impulses were telling him to do, all he did was let out a 'tch' and look to the side.
"Seriously. Dude. You can't just drag someone behind a building after school hours all intimidating like this and not expect them to be a little tense. Just saying. Like, not gonna lie, for a while there I thought I was two minutes away from becoming a pile of ashes or something."
And, ouch. Katsuki ducked his head. That wouldn't have hurt him a few weeks ago. But it certainly did now, and that was really fucking dumb but maybe he deserved it.
Well. So much for talking to someone about it.
"I just wanted to ask you a damn question. That's all," he mumbled. Shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "But if you're just gonna be a smart-ass about it, then I guess I'll go."
He stuck his hands in his pockets and turned on his heel, walking away with the full intention of retreating to his room, shutting himself off from the rest of the world and never coming out ever again.
"Wait!" The voice behind him called out, rushed. "This is about Kirishima, isn't it?"
Katsuki froze in his tracks. And there was that fucking guilt again. It was too strong, intense, and it wrecked through him like nothing he had ever felt before. Katsuki closed his eyes, let the air flutter through his hair for several moments, counting the passing of time with his own heartbeat until he couldn't stand the quiet anymore.
"Did I do something wrong?"
At the sound of his cracking voice, the wind stilled, and it felt like the world had stopped turning, like the entire universe was holding its breath. And Katsuki had to break the silence before it surrounded him completely.
"Kirishima's not talking to me anymore, and I don't know why. I'm really bad at this sort of thing. I probably fucked up or something." He turned to Kaminari, and he could feel the desperation in his eyes but he couldn't for the life of him make it go away. "So if you know anything, anything at all about what's going on..." He clenched his fists. Gritted his teeth.
"I, um." Kaminari looked away. "I don't know much. But I've also noticed him being a bit, you know, reserved. And tired? And he and I talked about it a little, and I think what this all boils down to is that he wants to hear from you."
For a few seconds, Katsuki could only stare. Snapping out of it, he looked away, muttering a curse under his breath. "You can't be serious. He's the one not talking to me, so it's not that fucking simple."
"Hey, do you want my help or not?" Kaminari shrugged. "You wanted an answer, and that's my answer. I don't think you did anything wrong, I think maybe it's just something you two need to work through. And if he's not talking to you for some reason, then you need to be the one who talks to him."
"But that's not fucking what I asked for, stupid, fucking—" Katsuki groaned, bringing his fingers up to press circles into his temple. He took a deep, deep breath. His voice turned quiet. "I just want him to be happy, okay? And I know he isn't right now, and if it's because of something I did, I need to know so I can fix it. I need to fix this..."
Please, he's all I have.
Katsuki closed his eyes, his fists clenching and unclenching at his side, waiting for something. But Kaminari was silent. He took another breath, trying to keep his crumbling composure seem a little more intact. He opened his eyes, looking across to Kaminari, jaw set.
"Please."
And Jesus Fucking Christ, he did not like the look on Kaminari's face. It was as if the guy had just noticed something, just realized something so utterly profound that his brain couldn't fucking handle it. His shocked, yellow eyes were unsettling as they studied him, astonished, as if unlocking all of his secrets with just a stare.
Then, snapping out of his daze with a swallow, Kaminari looked to the ground, kicking his heel into the pavement.
"I care about him too, you know."
And he way he paused right there, looking up Katsuki like he was trying to send him a hidden message via telepathy was goddamn infuriating.
He continued carefully, treading over landmines. "I think, maybe, we're more alike than we thought." Kaminari paused again. There was a slight smile on his lips, a slight nod of his head, but everything else about his expression seemed... downcast. "You said you want him to be happy, yeah? Because that's what I want, too. I'm tired of seeing him look like a kicked puppy — which, by the way, is how he has been acting lately. That's why, even in spite of," he gestured to his own chest, "all of this, I'm still trying to help you. So you need to actually listen to what I'm saying."
Katsuki pursed his lips, restraining himself from snapping at the patronizing tone.
"Look," Kaminari looked away again. "I can talk to him first, maybe tell him to talk to you or something if that would make things easier. But I still think that you need to talk to him."
"I don't need a fucking lecture."
"Talk to him."
Katsuki didn't need Kirishima. He didn't. That sort of dependency was gross. But the fact was, that week had honestly been one of the most torturous weeks of his entire life. It had drained at his energy and his abilities and his sanity like a leech. But, perhaps it had been necessary. He tried to work through his problems on his own, but it was time to reconcile with the fact that it was so much easier with help. With Kirishima, right there, by his side. Just like it always was. And maybe that was something Kirishima needed to hear, as much as it was something Katsuki needed to say.
And now, as he stood in front of Kirishima's door, ready to knock, the thought occurred that — as much as Katsuki would hate to admit it — maybe he really had needed that shove from Kaminari to get to this point.
He rapped on the door, and then, Kirishima was there, and he was upset and crying into his shoulder and Katsuki had never had to deal with anything like this before. But also, Katsuki knew exactly what to do. Kirishima had taught him well, after all. He still felt concern — of course he did, his friend was distressed — but there was also this sense of peace that blanketed over him. Like he was finally, finally able to return the help he had received so many times.
So they just... talked through it, all of it. Everything that had caused the past week to happen, the sleepover. Clearing the air like this, was such a relief — Katsuki didn't lose his friend, he never had. And he certainly hoped that he never would.
And the joy of having a not just a friend, but a best friend, someone he could trust and respect and be close to and bear his heart to... it left him smiling even long after they had fallen asleep.
And that early, early morning when Katsuki stirred awake, everything was like a dream — a good one, this time, one he never wanted to wake from. Kirishima was still asleep, legs tucked into Katsuki's own, arms wrapped around him, his soft, even breaths tickling the back of his neck. He was right there, so close, and he wasn't going to leave. And Katsuki wasn't going to push him away, either. Never again. So he reached out, finding Kirishima's hand, intertwining fingers with his own before drifting off to sleep again.
"Um. I like you."
Katsuki was sure he must have been hallucinating. There was no way. No fucking way.
"I like you, Bakugou."
He could only sit in shock. The blood in his veins felt like it had just stopped all at once. This had gotta be some sort of sick joke.
But Katsuki knew Kirishima. He wouldn't joke about something like this.
Which meant...
Katsuki had been so sure that Kirishima acted like this to all of his friends. And, he had been so caught up in accepting his own feelings that he hadn't even considered the possibility that the feelings being mutual.
Honestly, he wanted to laugh. Like, an awkwardly robust laugh, and for an awkwardly long amount of time. Because seriously. Seriously.
Except, he realized that he hadn't responded yet, and now it seemed that Kirishima was full-on panicking, his words coming out so damn quickly that Katsuki could hardly keep up. He let out a few calls of Kirishima's name to try and calm him down, but then the redhead started rambling about things like holding hands and dating and kissing, all these things that, in that moment, Katsuki realized that he wanted too. And Kirishima was just so honest about it, no inhibitions holding him back, just raw truth, and there was a rush of adrenaline and Katsuki was fairly sure that he had never felt more thrilled in his entire goddamn life.
But then, Kirishima went quiet, waiting, and Katsuki realized that he still hadn't responded. Kirishima just closed his eyes, his body shaking.
Katsuki wasn't good with words. He never had been, he usually just acted on instinct. But in this moment, he was at a complete loss.
Sitting in front of him was the person who had seen how ugly he could be and didn't run away, who knew about his his insecurities, his deepest fears, and didn't laugh, who kept his darkest secrets between the two of them and the night. This person, who had torn down Katsuki's walls without even trying to, accepted him for who he was while pushing him to be better. This person, who inspired Katsuki, make him want to be the best hero he could be -- the best person he could be. This person, who had cared about him so fucking deeply that Katsuki couldn't help but feel the same way in return, a feeling that was so strong that it could only be described as love. This person, who had rescued him, from villains, from himself. This person, who had saved him. It was him. It would always be him.
What could Katsuki even say to a person like that?
And in that sudden moment of clarity, there was only one thing Katsuki could think of to do. Only one thing that could portray the joy, the inspiration, the gratitude, the trust, the love — the very amalgamation of every emotion that Kirishima made him feel all at once. All in one action, one kiss.
So that's what he did.
————
Notes:
By tumblr user risartblog, a lovely piece inspired by Bakugou's POV!
(fan art shown at the top of the chapter)