Fuck.
Katsuki flung his arm over his eyes and groaned.
Not this shit. Not again.
His heart was pounding so hard in his chest it ached, sweat beading on his forehead, palms smoking. It hurt to breathe, too, the air catching in his throat with every inhale, but he had to calm down. Eight counts in. Eight counts out. In, then out... then in... then out... then another frustrated groan.
Goddamn it.
He hadn't even been in the dorms for a full twelve hours, and his subconscious had already decided to go and be a complete fuck-up. Stupid fight or flight response. Goddamn quirk was too loud, too.
And he had neighbors now.
Fuuuuck.
This shit had better fucking stop.
☆
Fuckin' hell.
Katsuki panted, taking in what ragged breaths he could manage, trying to shake off the chilling images of his latest nightmare. They weren't real. They weren't.
Katsuki closed his stinging eyes with a huff, waiting for the lump in his throat to go away and his nausea to settle. That happened sometimes. He'd get so worked up from a nightmare that he'd feel sick for a few minutes. When it cleared, he settled 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.
Just then, a door out in the hallway opened, then closed.
No way. No fucking way, he was Bakugou Fucking Katsuki. With his carefully crafted reputation, no one would dare confront him over some noise disturbances, not unless they wanted a blast to the face.
Except for maybe Shitty Hair. But, honestly, what were the chances that guy was his neighbor?
There was a knock on his door. A familiar voice.
"Hey, Bakugou?"
...God fucking dammit.
☆
A good day looked like him knowing what day of the week it was, or him not teetering on his feet on the verge of passing out during their training briefs. Without assignments to fail, Katsuki wouldn't usually care about how exhausted he felt or what his classmates whispered about him behind his back... except that it was starting to affect his training, and that wasn't gonna cut it. He'd already gotten kicked out of training earlier that day. Fucking outrageous.
Not to mention that a certain piece of shit redhead thought it was a good idea to come prancing over to his room every night, butting his nose where it didn't belong and asking question after question as if Katsuki owed him a single goddamn thing. As if Katsuki didn't have enough bullshit to deal with already.
"Bakugou."
The firm voice snapped him out of his thoughts. His eyes focused again, looking across the room to the stranger in a leather armchair. With the haze in his brain, he'd nearly forgotten about this special brand of bullshit he was being forced to suffer through.
The shrink watched him expectantly.
"You know, to get anything out of this, you're going to have to talk to me eventually."
Katsuki slouched deeper into his chair and crossed his arms. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Fifteen minutes left. Then he could go back to his room and take a fucking nap.
In the meantime, he hardened his eyes, picking up the staring contest where he'd left it off before his own internal monologue had distracted him.
Third session since Kamino, first since living on campus, and he was getting really fucking good at this. It took ages for his eyes to start stinging. It also intimidated the hell out of her, he could tell. She was young, not as experienced. And Katsuki had a killer resting bitch face.
After a few moments of staring, the shrink shifted in her seat. Adjusted her suit jacket. Broke eye contact to look down at her clipboard.
Score. Too easy.
"Talk to me," she said, clearing her throat. "How's life in the dorms? How're you adjusting?"
Katsuki snorted. As if he was gonna tell some stuck-up stranger about any of it. No. No way. Not a single goddamn word. His parents already knew about the nightmares — they asked him how he was sleeping every fucking time they called, and Katsuki knew exactly why — and as far as he was concerned, that was two people too many. Deku was starting to notice something was up, too, if his constant side-eyeing was anything to go by. That creep. Not to mention, nosey Shitty Hair was inching closer and closer to the truth with every day that passed. Shit. Shit.
The shrink watched him for a bit, then jotted something down on her clipboard, and rage burst in Katsuki's chest. How dare she think she understood him enough to take fucking notes. How dare she.
He blinked away the prickling in his eyes. All that staring was starting to catch up to him. Nothing else. He jutted out his jaw and schooled his face and dug his heels into the dirt even more. Good luck wringing anything else out of him now.
He wanted to go home. Away from UA. Away from the expectant eyes of the shrink's office and the prying ears of the dormitory and all of his half-spilled secrets. Pro heroes didn't deal with this bullshit. Pro heroes couldn't afford to deal with this bullshit. Pathetic is what it was.
Weak. Fucking weak.
☆
That was all Katsuki could think as he woke Friday night to yet another nightmare. Weak, pitiful, good-for-nothing. He covered his ears with his pillow, trying to stifle the taunts, trying to stop his dry-heaving, but there wasn't anything he could do, he really was weak, pathetic, a coward—
At his door, frantic knocking.
In him, there was only rage.
That motherfucker.
He shouted for Shitty Hair to go away, to leave him the fuck alone, but not even squeezing the pillow tighter over his head worked to block it out. Shitty Hair just kept going, on and on, knocking and yammering and demanding answers as if he had any right to know what Katsuki was going through.
Fuck that.
With a growl, Katsuki tore the pillow away from his head, stomped to the door, and wrenched it open.
And there Shitty Hair was, snarky this time, as if this was all some fucking game, a silly little puzzle for him to figure out, like Katsuki's most compromising secret wasn't on the line here. No fucking way. Katsuki balled his fists. Shitty Hair wasn't gonna get a single fucking word out of him, either.
Yet, there Shitty Hair was, reading him with a single look. Like he knew Katsuki, knew when something was wrong, his smirk falling away, his brow creasing in concern, and what the fuck was wrong with Katsuki, anyway? Why couldn't he keep his face in check? Why'd his voice crack like that? Why was he trembling? Why couldn't he stop?
And there Shitty Hair was, stepping into his space, touching him, hugging him, and Katsuki should've pushed away. He should've, but he didn't. He didn't have the strength anymore. Suddenly, in Kirishima's arms, in the middle of the goddamn hallway, he was falling apart. Tears brimmed at his waterline, overflowing and dampening Kirishima's shirt. Kirishima didn't mention it. Kirishima didn't make fun of it. Kirishima didn't pity it.
Katsuki didn't get it. Why'd Kirishima care? What was in it for him?
But this wasn't his mom or dad. This wasn't one of his old cronies, this wasn't Deku, or Aizawa, or All Might, or that stupid fucking therapist. This was Kirishima. Sincere, selfless Kirishima. The same person whose hand he'd trusted enough to take at Kamino.
In his arms, Katsuki couldn't help but wonder — was this really much different?
☆
Although, agreeing to a sleepover had been a fucking stupid idea. In what world did he, Bakugou Fucking Katsuki, willingly show a single ounce of vulnerability to some rando? But he wasn't a fucking coward, either. He wasn't about to back out on his word.
And anyway. At least it was Shitty Hair. At least it was Kirishima, and not someone else.
So, without much fanfare, the sleepover began, and all his secrets leaked out.
Katsuki had never admitted some of this stuff before. To anyone. But the more he opened up, the less he cared. It didn't matter anymore that these were his vulnerabilities, or his insecurities, or his deepest secrets that he was spilling. It didn't matter when he cried or descended into a full-blown panic attack, because it was just Kirishima. Kirishima listened to him. Kirishima cared. If it was just Kirishima, then Katsuki could do it.
Katsuki had never had anyone like that before.
When all was said and done, they got ready for bed, and for the first time in weeks, sleep came within minutes. No stalling, no building sense of dread. Just sleep.
Hours later, in the midst of nightmares, a gentle voice filled his mind and calmed the storm.
Later still, as the dim light of the still-rising sun filled his room, Katsuki woke with a jolt. It was hot. So hot, too hot, the uncomfortable stuffiness of shared body heat, and he froze. His breaths turned shallow and his muscles grew taut and his veins rushed like they were on fire. His brain screamed at him to get away, get away get away, the sweet smell of smoke tinging the air—
But then there was the soft beating of a restful heart in the chest under his ear, the comfort of the arms surrounding him, the lax hand resting on the small of his back — Kirishima's hand, Kirishima's arms, Kirishima heart, and at the realization, Katsuki's eyes stung. It was just Kirishima. He swallowed the lump building in his throat and gasped out a breath.
Just Kirishima. Just Kirishima.
He repeated those words to himself, over and over again, a lull, and before long, he drifted off once more.
Later that morning, when an alarm blared and the weight under him bolted from the bed in a panic, Katsuki couldn't deny that whatever the hell happened last night had worked. And he couldn't help but think that maybe, it was easier to deal with all this bullshit with Kirishima by his side. And maybe, that was okay.
And even later, when Katsuki woke up for real, feeling better rested than he'd felt in weeks, the thought occurred that maybe, just 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. Why should he care about the thoughts or advice of a bunch of worthless extras? He was just gonna step over all of them, anyway.
At least, that's how it was supposed to be, until recently. How recently? Since last night, maybe? Or, the hug a few days before that? Way back at Kamino? Before that? Katsuki didn't know. All he knew was that, no matter how much he shouldn't care about what Kirishima thought of him, he still did.
He should've found that disturbing. He didn't.
Like, their conversation that morning. Kirishima had some pretty naïve beliefs about the power of friendship or whatever, and Katsuki had been sooooo close to just scoffing it all away. But as he rushed to the cafeteria for lunch, alone with just his thoughts for the first time in what felt like days, his thoughts turned to the night before. Sleep had been easy — restful, even. All because someone who called himself a friend had given Katsuki a shoulder to lean on.
Not to mention that Katsuki despised being indebted to people. He had to even the scales. After all Kirishima had done for him in the name of friendship, the least Katsuki could do was not be a total asshole to the guy. And if Kirishima thought that he should play nice to their stupid classmates, too, then Katsuki would fuckin' play nice. How difficult could it be?
Try: pretty fucking difficult.
He was never gonna make friends like Kirishima could. And that was fine. If Katsuki had to choose one thing to be bad at, he'd pick 'getting along with people' over literally anything else. But he tried anyway, because, well, Shitty Hair wanted him to.
Plus, it kinda felt like a challenge. And Katsuki never backed down from a challenge.
It wasn't easy, though. When he slammed his tray down at the lunch table, Racoon Eyes and Pikachu gave him a look, and how the hell was he supposed to play nice with people who gave him a fucking look?
Not to mention, sometimes, people were just so fucking stupid, or they gave him attitude, or otherwise made an ass of themselves and Katsuki wanted nothing more than to throw his hands in the air and say 'fuck it' to this whole ordeal.
But then, on their way up the stairs to their rooms, as Kirishima shared more about his crappy middle school pals with his chest puffed out, like those shitty friendships were some sort of goalpost to aim for?
...Shit. That sure put things into perspective.
That same afternoon, with two of them holed up in Katsuki's room trying to focus on some stupid summer assignments, Katsuki found himself growing more and more fidgety — even worse, more and more contemplative. Apparently, this sort of thing weighed heavy on his mind now.
He glanced up from his notebook and across the room to where Kirishima sat hunched over the desk, pencil scribbling away, oblivious to the thoughts racing around Katsuki's head.
Katsuki didn't get him.
Katsuki really didn't get him.
Kirishima placed friendship on this grand fucking pedestal when he didn't even know what good friendship looked like. Hell, neither did Katsuki, but at least he wasn't lying to himself about it. At least he knew that whatever he'd had with his middle school goonies hadn't been it. But Kirishima? He'd settled for less, thinking that was as good as it got.
At the thought, anger ignited in Katsuki's gut.
Kirishima had literally risked his life to save him. But he hadn't stopped there, oh no. Even now, Kirishima was there for him, helping him come to terms with the worst experience in his life while expecting absolutely nothing in return. What sort of person did that? For someone like Katsuki? All that selflessness, all that kindness, all that care that Kirishima put into every single relationship he had — and those middle school morons treated him like that? Kirishima deserved better. More than better. He deserved the best.
Katsuki chewed on his lip.
Could he be that for Kirishima?
Nah. No way. First of all, Katsuki didn't do friends. Lunch with the idiot brigade had made that clear enough. Friendships took work. They were messy and they didn't come naturally to him. Just another thing to waste his precious time.
And anyway, Kirishima was a good person. He was so good, in ways that Katsuki fundamentally didn't understand.
Katsuki shook his head to himself. He wouldn't be the best for Kirishima. Not by a long shot.
... But he could still try, couldn't he?
And try.
And try.
And try.
☆
"You seem in a good mood lately."
That got a scoff out of Katsuki. It wasn't because she was wrong. She wasn't — he had been in a good mood. Sleep did that to people. Not being plagued by constant nightmares did that to people. Maybe... maybe even having a friend did that to people.
No, Katsuki had scoffed because, even after weeks of this bullshit, session after session of silence and staring, the shrink still thought she could weasel any of that out of him.
Hah. Not a fucking chance.
☆
Yakiniku had felt like a mistake the moment he'd agreed to it. Cramming their whole noisy class into one tiny, sweltering room full of open grills? No fucking thanks.
But highly-food-motivated Shitty Hair Kirishima was gonna go, and for whatever goddamn reason, Katsuki cared about Shitty Hair Kirishima. So, against his better judgment, he tagged along.
And when Katsuki let his guard down and actually snickered at god-knows-what, of course Kirishima had to notice. And their eyes just had to meet, and the doofus just had to give him one of those lopsided grins of his, and then Katsuki's stomach was doing flip-flops like he was going to be sick, his face heating up in embarrassment like some stupid character from a goddamn chick-flick, and he had to look away before anyone saw.
Because, they didn't know. None of these try-hard extras knew about their terror-stricken nights and their warm, bleary-eyed mornings. They didn't know how close he and Kirishima had become, they didn't know how many walls Katsuki had let down and how many broken pieces of himself Kirishima had put back into place. They had no idea.
And it was sure as hell gonna stay that way.
☆
It was just supposed to be a Game Night. A simple, easy evening hunkered down with some old-school fighting game Katsuki could win with his eyes closed. But now, everything was out in the open. Everything.
Good things only lasted so long for Katsuki. It'd taken him long enough to figure that out, but now it was pretty indisputable what with the sports festival and the training camp and the kidnapping and All Might's end and the nightmares, not to mention that other quirky little thing he'd finally pieced together about All Might and Deku of all fucking people, and—
And anyway. None of that mattered in the moment, because Kirishima had gone down one of his self-critical shame spirals and after everything Kirishima had done for him? Katsuki had to try something.
But Katsuki sucked at that sort of thing, and all of that stuff about bullying Deku had just sorta come out on its own, and now?
Now, Kirishima had an easy out.
He was angry. Of course he was angry, but Katsuki had never seen Kirishima get angry at him before. Hell, he'd never seen Kirishima get truly angry at anyone. Not like this.
But no one deserved it more than Katsuki. His true colors were out in the open, and for Kirishima, those colors were the ultimate betrayal. They were the colors of a villain.
Maybe it was for the best. After years of self-deprecation and constantly feeling worthless, maybe now Kirishima could finally understand that he deserved so much more than all the crap that'd been spewed at him by his so-called 'friends'. Maybe he'd finally see just how good he was, and in comparison, he'd see just how bad Katsuki was.
And then, Kirishima would want nothing to do with him.
Katsuki wouldn't blame him. Katsuki wouldn't stop him. They'd have a falling out, a chasm widening between them that they'd never be able to close. That's what happened with friends, right?
He balled his fists in his lap and gritted his teeth, bracing himself for the inevitable.
But, it never came.
...Katsuki really didn't get him.
Kirishima got over something as bad as that? In, like, five minutes? What the fuck? But all that confusion didn't stop the relief. Despite it all, he still had a friend.
Despite it all, Kirishima stayed.
☆
Kirishima was dead.
They'd gotten to him, killed him, he was fucking dead, body limp and mutilated and covered in so much blood 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, 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 voice was raw and his jaw ached and his heart collapsed into itself until nothing felt real anymore. And then, he just breathed. In and out. In and out.
This was bad.
Kirishima was getting into Katsuki's head. And Katsuki was letting him. Even worse, Katsuki liked it.
He liked Kirishima. Liked his sincerity, his trustworthiness, his stupid dorky-ass grin. Liked how easy he was to talk to, liked how much he cared, liked how he pushed Katsuki to be better in ways he hadn't even cared about before. Ways he hadn't even known were possible.
Katsuki liked him so, so much.
Too much.
This was really fucking bad.
This... thing between them needed to end. Soon. Before it got even more out of hand than it already was.
☆
But the next morning, his resolve shattered in a single instant.
"You'll get there."
Kirishima was a goddamn idiot.
"See? I think I've got you figured out pretty well, Bakugou."
He could just say shit like that so easily.
"How could I see you as a villain, when you're trying so hard to be a hero?"
He was always so sincere, and in the silence that followed, something clicked in Katsuki's head.
Katsuki was mean, and rude, and he had bruises and thorns and sometimes he felt so fucking broken that it was a shock he could even function.
Yet somehow, somehow, Kirishima saw all of that and still accepted him. Like he somehow knew that, on the inside, Katsuki was greater than all of that. Katsuki could bare his soul, his heart, his everything, with thorns and bruises and all, and Kirishima wouldn't run away. He could share his biggest fears and greatest weaknesses, and Kirishima wouldn't use them against him. He would just ask to help.
At first, that had left Katsuki feeling exposed. Vulnerable. And he'd hated it. But not anymore. Now, Katsuki just felt seen.
Kirishima was the first person to accept Katsuki for who he was, fully and completely. More than that — he was the first person who'd even tried.
And as that silence stretched on and on, and as Katsuki searched Kirishima's eyes, it hit him.
Yeah.
He was in love.
Well.
Fuck.
☆
Hold on, hold on, hold on just one fucking minute.
Love? Was he out of his goddamn mind?
Bakugou groaned in frustration and thumped a fist against the white tiles again. The hot steam rising from the shower water was supposed to clear his head, but instead, he'd just ended up doubting himself even more.
Katsuki gritted his teeth.
Doubting himself was not a thing he did.
But on the other hand, love was big. Profound. The sort of thing Katsuki didn't wanna touch with a thirty-meter pole. People died for it, killed for it. Started wars, toppled empires, burned down the whole world for it — and Kirishima? Kirishima drooled in his sleep and cried when he accidentally stepped on a worm.
Yeah? And Katsuki loved him for it.
...
Eh.
Who'd he been trying to kid, anyway?
☆
"I take it you don't plan on talking today, either?" the shrink asked as soon as she took a seat.
Straight to the point. Katsuki had half a mind to be impressed. At least she was managing her expectations this time. He answered with his signature harsh stare.
She watched him, and for the first time, Katsuki bristled under her gaze. Since that morning, every feeling in his chest had been so much, barely containable even now. What if she could see right through him? Would she take one look at him and just know?
She blew air between her lips. "Is there anything you'd like to talk about today? Any developments? Anything at all?"
His thoughts turned to Kirishima, and—
I'm in love, he thought. I'm in love.
He didn't say it. Of course he didn't fucking say it. But as she watched him, she brightened.
"Ooo, a smile," she said. "That's a first."
Fuck. Katsuki forced his expression to fall flat.
If his heart had spent the better part of the day getting bombarded with happiness, with joy, with love, with any of that shit— if he wanted to yell about it, to shout it from the fucking rooftops— well, then. That wasn't anyone's fucking business, now, was it?
So instead, he tilted his head back a smidge and looked down his nose at her. And he stared. And stared. And stared.
'I'm in love', he didn't say.
But... he kinda wanted to.
☆
A few more sleepovers never hurt anyone, right? That was enough to convince Katsuki to keep them going, even if it was against his better judgment. That is, until fuckin' Pikachu ruined the moment.
God dammit.
So off Kirishima went to handle things, leaving Katsuki all alone on his bed, back against the headboard, legs bouncing away. The thought of some rando coming that close to stumbling upon all of the skeletons in his closet had anxiety gripping Katsuki's stomach tight enough to be paralyzing. Which was stupid — there was no doubt in his mind that Kirishima would keep those secrets close to his heart. But if there was one thing that made Katsuki irrational, it was the thought of his weaknesses being exposed.
And, yeah, sure. He was embarrassed, too. He may not have given much thought to romance, or gossip, or scandal, but he wasn't stupid. He knew what this looked like. Kirishima had said it himself — "normal friends don't usually do stuff like this."
But Kirishima wasn't a normal friend, he was—
He was—!
Shit.
Katsuki buried his face in his hands and ran his fingers down his cheeks
Shit, shit, shit.
He was Kirishima. And Kirishima was a really fucking nice guy — to everyone. He'd probably do shit like this for whoever needed it. And Katsuki just had to be a fucking idiot and fall for him.
It. Fall for it.
Dammit. Dammit.
It had been one day, one fucking day since he'd accepted his own feelings, without much fanfare or refute, either! His feelings were his and his alone, and it'd be really fucking dumb to waste time denying a part of himself that ran so deep. But he'd also be really fucking dumb if he let those feelings dictate every decision he ever made — which was exactly why these sleepovers needed to stop. Why they should have stopped a long time ago.
With a long sigh, he leaned his head back and looked up at the ceiling.
Kirishima would understand, right? Hell, he might even be relieved that he didn't have to lose any more sleep over something as stupid as this. And even if he didn't truly get it, even if he never knew how Katsuki would burn down the whole world for him, he'd still understand. That's what Kirishima did.
So Katsuki called it off.
☆
So.
Maybe Kirishima didn't understand.
After their talk that morning, Kirishima had gone back to his room, and all had been quiet from his end. Too quiet.
Katsuki tried not to think much of it. There were routines for Kirishima to adjust, not to mention an entire term to prepare for. He was probably spending some time with their other classmates. Katsuki wasn't jealous. Kirishima was allowed to have a life outside of him. The two of them would just hang out some other time.
He pushed through that night by himself, too, forced himself to sleep alone in that room for the first time in weeks, and to his surprise, he slept through the night.
But even without a nightmare, it sucked. It felt wrong. But he had to do this alone, if only to prove to himself that he could.
Maybe Kirishima would notice that he hadn't had a nightmare. Maybe the next morning, when they saw each other in the hallway or at breakfast or in the classroom for the first time, Kirishima would flash him that smile of his. The one that showed how proud he was.
But the next day made Bakugou even more confused than before. Kirishima didn't say hello to him when he entered the classroom, didn't seek him out at lunch or on the way back to class.
At the start of their afternoon hero training in Gym Gamma, Katsuki tried to take his usual spot next to Kirishima so they could warm up together like they'd started doing after Kamino, but Kirishima drifted away to talk to Tape Guy instead.
Okaaaay...?
Surely, Kirishima wasn't just ignoring him. He wouldn't do that for no reason. It had to be in Katsuki's head.
When Katsuki stuck around in the common room that evening to try to catch him, Kirishima definitely saw him. Not so much as a smile, or a little wave — he just turned away and walked off! With fucking Kaminari!
And the next morning, as Katsuki tried to catch him before classes started, chasing after him in a goddamn downpour only to get ditched yet again — yeah. Katsuki took the fucking hint.
So much for being friends.
☆
The nightmares returned a few days later, Katsuki waking up to his own explosions with tears streaming from in his eyes and a shout lodged in his throat, and in that moment, it didn't even matter that it had been almost a week since his last one, it didn't even matter that he was getting better, because Kirishima wasn't there.
He needed Kirishima. Needed him, needed him, needed him — his every thought punctuated with hyperventilating — needed him, needed him, loved him—
Loved him. Loved him.
His hand flew to cover his mouth, stifling a cry.
Fuck.
☆
After that, Kirishima's absence finally started to sink in, and for a day or two, it made Katsuki numb. Everything felt muted and not real and it wasn't normal, it wasn't like him, not when he usually felt so much and so strongly. But sometimes he'd just sit there, minute after minute, lost in his own head, staring, staring, staring—
"I feel like there's something weighing on your mind," the therapist interrupted. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Katsuki's eyes darted to her.
It was just her job. It wasn't like anyone actually cared about him. Not like Kirishima had. His jaw wobbled, so he clenched it, but then his throat was tightening, eyes stinging, but he couldn't—
No. He refused to cry. Not here.
"Oh, fuck off," he spat.
He snatched his backpack off of the floor and slammed the door behind him on his way out.
☆
For a few days, that anger fueled him. He and Kirishima were over. No surprises there, what with how Katsuki wrecked every relationship he ever touched, but he could still be pissed off about it.
And to make matters worse, all those fucking try-hards were still acting friendly with him, sitting next to him at lunch and calling out his name in the common room as if he owed them any of his time or attention. No fucking way. Katsuki knew how that would end. They'd realize he was a shit person who would never get better no matter how hard he tried, and they'd give up on him too.
No way he was gonna put himself through that again.
☆
Another few nights of peace, another nightmare — and this time when Katsuki woke up, with sweat streaming down his face and his chest heaving with stuttered breaths, he was livid.
He'd thought — fuck, he'd thought Kirishima had his back. Not just with the nightmares, those weren't his responsibility, but what about everything else? Kirishima was supposed to be by his side. But no, instead, he'd outright abandoned him. What the fuck? After all that big talk about seeing the good in people and the fucking power of friendship?
Katsuki pushed himself up to sit on the mattress, wiped at his brow, then snatched a water bottle off of his nightstand and downed it in a few gulps. He crushed the empty bottle in his hand.
Kirishima was a fucking hypocrite.
With a growl, Katsuki chucked the bottle across the room toward his trashcan. In the darkness, he heard it smack against the wall and crumple to the ground. He huffed, brows furrowing into a glare.
Katsuki wasn't sure why he'd even tried in the first place. That's what he got for thinking he could ever change. No matter what he did, it still wouldn't be enough. No matter what, he'd always just be Bakugou Fucking Katsuki. That was the real him. It had to be, and the second he let someone get close, they'd realize that the real him wasn't any different from the Bakugou they already knew and hated, and they'd scatter. Leave everything to crash and burn, just like Kirishima had.
Except... that wasn't what had happened.
At the quiet thought, Katsuki's eyebrows furrowed even more, in confusion this time.
That's how he'd been thinking about it. He must've done something wrong, and whatever it was had made Kirishima realize he wasn't worth all the effort. But that didn't make any sense! Kirishima had already known about the worst Katsuki had to offer — Deku — so why hadn't he run away then?
But no. Instead, Kirishima had stuck around anyway. It was only way later, after the sleepovers ended, that he'd started giving Katsuki the cold shoulder. What had Katsuki done to deserve that? What could've been worse than the bullying? Just what the hell was going on?
Katsuki chewed on his lip.
He had to get to the bottom of this.
☆
"You could've just asked to meet me out here, ya know," the guy said with a shrug. "No need to man-handle me like that. I wouldn't've run away." His darting glances looking for an escape route said otherwise. "So, uh. What's up?"
With his usual scowl, Katsuki 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." He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "It's Kaminari, by the way. In case you, I don't know, forgot or something."
And fucking hell, attitude was the last thing Katsuki needed right then. But the angel on his shoulder sounded a lot like Kirishima nowadays, so instead of snapping back like his instincts were telling him to, 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." Kaminari shrugged again. "Just saying. Like, not gonna lie, for a second there I thought I was gonna get beat up or charred into a pile of ashes or something."
And, ouch. Katsuki ducked his head. It was his own damn fault for making that his image, and usually he didn't mind it. Hell, something like that wouldn't have stung at all a few weeks ago. But it sure did now.
So much for getting to the bottom of things.
"I just wanted to ask a damn question is all," he mumbled. Shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "But if you're gonna be a smart-ass about it, then I guess I'll go."
Why'd he think this was a good idea? He should've never done this in the first place. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned on his heel with the full intent of retreating to his room, shutting out the rest of the world, and never coming out ever again.
"Wait!" the voice behind him called out. "This is about Kirishima, isn't it?"
Katsuki froze in his tracks, shoulders pulled up toward his ears. He closed his eyes, let the wind sweep through his hair, counting the passing of time with his own heartbeat until he couldn't stand the quiet anymore.
"Did I do something wrong?" he asked.
At the sound of his cracking voice, the wind stilled, and it felt like the entire universe was holding its breath in wait. Katsuki had to break the silence before it suffocated him.
"Kirishima's not talking to me anymore, and I don't know why. I probably fucked up or something. No surprise there." He looked at Kaminari, and he could hear the desperation in his own voice 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.
"You mean," Kaminari asked slowly, "you're not—?" He cut himself off.
Katsuki squinted.
"'I'm not' what?"
"I dunno. Avoiding him?"
"Why the fuck would I be avoiding him?" Katsuki snapped. "He's the one avoiding me!"
"Oh." Kaminari blinked. He thought for a moment, eyebrows drawn together in confusion, the cogs slowly turning in his head. Then, a look dawned on his face. "Ohhh," he said again, drawn out. He ducked his head and looked at the ground. "Okay, so, apparently no one has any idea what's going on, sooooo, I think you two need to talk it out."
For a few seconds, Katsuki could only stare. Was this guy fuckin' serious?
"And that'll fix everything, will it?"
"Probably."
"A chat."
"Yup." Kaminari popped the 'p'.
Katsuki scoffed. "No way," he said. No way it'd be that fucking easy. "He wants nothing to do with me. What good would talking it out do?"
"Pretty sure you got a killer case of miscommunication on your hands, my guy." Kaminari shrugged. "So if you guys actually talked about it, you might find the disconnect. As far as I know, you didn't do anything bad—"
Katsuki cut in with a hollow sort of laugh, because— because he must've! He must've, because that's how it always went. He messed things up, did things wrong, built walls and drove wedges and wrecked relationships until there was no point in even trying to salvage them. That's what he did.
"I'm serious!" Kaminari threw his hands up in the air. "Think about it. Even if you did nothing wrong, you aren't exactly known for your way with words. And you know how Kirishima is. He coulda mistook something you said and twisted it into something it's not. And if he's not talking to you because of it, then you need to be the one to step up and talk to him."
"But I've tried," Katsuki said. "I've tried, but every fucking time I get close, he bolts. Cornering him would only make it worse! Fuck—!" With a groan, he brought his fingers up to press circles into his temples and took a deep, deep breath. His voice turned quiet. "I just want him to be happy, okay? And he's not right now, and I need to know what I did to make him upset so I can fix this— I need to fix this— Kirishima, he—"
He deserved it. He deserved better.
He was all Katsuki had.
The words played on his tongue, each phrase fighting to be spoken first, but they were all too much to say out loud. Those words were for Kirishima's ears and Kirishima's ears only. Katsuki closed his eyes, his fists clenching and unclenching at his side, waiting for something to break the silence so he wouldn't have to do it himself, but it never came.
Great. The one time Katsuki actually wanted Kaminari to talk, and Kaminari kept his loud mouth shut. Katsuki took another breath, trying to keep his composure intact just a little bit longer. He opened his eyes again and found Kaminari's.
"Please," he said.
And, hell, he did not like the look on Kaminari's face. It was as if the guy had just realized something so utterly profound that his smooth brain couldn't handle it. His yellow eyes studied Katsuki as if trying to unlock all his secrets with just one unsettling stare.
Finally snapping out of it, Kaminari swallowed and tore his eyes away, first looking at the sky, then down to the ground. He kicked his heel into the pavement, pinched his lips into a tight line, before—
"I care about him too, you know."
A beat, then Katsuki's frown deepened.
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Kaminari had better care about Kirishima! The two of them were friends, weren't they? But the way Kaminari paused, pointedly, eying Katsuki like he was somehow supposed to magically glean something more from it, was fucking infuriating. Katsuki's nostrils flared.
"I think," Kaminari continued slowly, "maybe, we're more alike than we thought. You want him to be happy, yeah? 'Cuz I want that, too. I'm tired of seeing him look like a kicked puppy. That's why, even in spite of," he gestured to his chest, "all of this, I'm still trying to help you." He pointed at Katsuki. "So you better talk to him."
Another objection was building on the tip of his tongue, but Katsuki bit down to stop it. He still didn't like any of this, though, and something in his face probably gave him away.
"Look," Kaminari said, sharp. "I can talk to him first. Sort of... get him ready for it, if that would make things easier for you. But that's not gonna be enough. You're gonna have to swallow your pride for once in your life and actually take the advice you've asked for."
Katsuki clicked his tongue.
"I don't need a fucking lecture."
"Talk to him."
☆
His rage still boiled under his skin, hot and relentless, so he let it simmer for a while longer before even considering Kaminari's advice. But he was tired. He was tired of being bitter and filled with rage and resentment all the time. Just a few short weeks ago, that had been his default. He'd never found it exhausting before.
It was... liberating.
Not to mention, if there was any chance this was just miscommunication, any chance at all, Katsuki had to take it.
So just a few nights later, he found himself standing in front of a door.
Katsuki took a breath. And he knocked, and Kirishima was there, and he wasn't okay, but as Katsuki stayed with him, comforting him — maybe, they were going to be okay.
The more he and Kirishima talked, the more the air cleared between them, and finally, Katsuki understood what had happened.
Stupid Kirishima! Stupid Kirishima and his stupid lack of self-esteem! Katsuki cared about him — loved him, even — but holy hell, was there a lot to unpack. And Katsuki should've been there for him the whole time, helping him see his own worth before things got to this point.
But obsessing over should'ves was a waste of time, especially when there were things he could do now. Now, he could finally return the help he'd received so many times before. Now, he could finally take Kirishima into his arms and never let go.
The relief he felt, the joy, left him smiling even as he fell asleep, dreaming of comfort and warmth and imaginary kisses on foreheads.
And that early, early morning as Katsuki stirred awake, it was like waking up in a dream — a good one this time, one he never wanted to leave. 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 Katsuki's heart felt like it could fucking burst.
So he reached out in a drowsy haze, finding Kirishima's hand and intertwining fingers with his own before drifting off to sleep again.
☆
"Um. I like you."
There was no way. No fucking way. This had to be some sort of sick joke. He what?
"You what?" Katsuki squeaked.
But Katsuki knew Kirishima. Kirishima wouldn't joke about something like this.
Which meant...
"I like you, Bakugou."
Katsuki wanted to laugh. A hysterical sort of laugh, the kind that made people question his sanity. Because seriously. Seriously?
But now Kirishima was in a full-blown panic, his words coming out so damn fast that Katsuki could hardly keep up. Even after calling his name to try and calm him down, Kirishima just kept going, on and on, and even when he finally went quiet, eyes closed, breaths shaking, Katsuki was too stunned to speak.
Kirishima didn't know. He honestly didn't know.
But Katsuki had never been good with words. They always came out twisted and wrong. But sitting in front of him was the person who'd seen how ugly he could be and didn't run away; who knew about his insecurities, his darkest fears, and didn't laugh; who kept his deepest secrets between the two of them and the night. Who pushed Katsuki to be the best hero he could be, the best Katsuki he could be. This person, who had cared about him so fucking deeply that Katsuki couldn't help but care in return. This person, who had saved him from villains and from himself. It was Kirishima. It would always be Kirishima.
What could Katsuki even say to a person like that?
Katsuki had never been good with words. They came out all twisted and wrong. But actions, he could do.
So that's what he did.