Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hey, it’s me, Eijiro Kirishima. You’re probably wondering what this note is. But to explain that we’d have to start from the beginning and I don’t have that much time. To be honest, time hasn't been on my side for a very long time. But I digress, if you’re reading this, I probably did it. Took the leap of faith. Went to visit the grim reaper. Hit the character reset button. Been promoted to head ghost in charge. Denki might appreciate these (i'm really hoping you're not the one who finds me Denks, truly). There’s a lot I wish I had the guts to say but I was too afraid. I’ve always been too afraid. Maybe that’s why I found you so intriguing, Katsuki. You were never afraid of anything. I wanted to be like you more than anything. And maybe, maybe if I could be like you, this wouldn’t have to be the path that I take. Maybe if I was as brave and as strong as you are, then I’d be here to tell you this in person.

—---------------------------------

Three months earlier

There were two days left before Eijiro had to return to UA for his final year. Two days before he had to put on a smile and pretend everything was fine for everyone. He’d been that guy for so long that it didn’t feel like a façade anymore - but he still knew it was a ruse, a way for him to keep his friends safe from the pain he felt inside. 

He looked in the mirror, staring at his black roots that had grown out. He’d taken a break from hero work, told Fatgum that he had family stuff and Katsuki and the rest of the gang that he was going to be traveling all summer but that wasn’t true either. Eijiro had used the money he’d earned working at the agency and some spare change from working at the local coffee shop and managed to find an apartment. It didn’t take much to convince the landlord that he only wanted a three month lease for the summer, he’d been in the news enough for them to recognize him as a hero in training that they just nodded and grabbed his money before disappearing. The family was kind though. His wife often left red bean mochi at his door and cookies in the shape of his shoulder gears. They were kind people and if Eijiro had any hope left in him to continue living, they might have been able to convince him. 

The apartment seemed like a good idea at first, but soon enough it was suffocating. Days spent alone became days that turned into spirals and Eijiro wondered if waiting was worth it. 

He wasn’t always like this - depressed, sad, suicidal. No, he remembered a time when he loved life. He remembered looking forward to each new day and meeting new people and being the hero that Crimson Riot had inspired him to be. It crept up on him slowly and then suddenly it had consumed him. He was afraid of anything and everything. He hated leaving his room. He didn’t have energy to do anything. Existing was suddenly exhausting and Eijiro wanted nothing more for that feeling to end. But then he had gotten into UA and a false sense of hope washed over him. It was a new start. He could make new friends and realize that maybe, just maybe, the sadness was all a fluke. 

But when you’re fifteen and surrounded by war and watching everyone around you dying and you realize that even at your best, you just aren’t good enough to save them - the sadness doesn’t just wash over you. 

It engulfed him. 

The flowers that made a home in his chest drowned from excess water and the stars that shone bright in his eyes were snuffed out one by one. No matter how hard he tried, the water filled his lungs, cementing him to the darkness that had grown around him. So he made a home there, finding solace in the pain.

At some point, in the passing of time Eijiro had realized how disillusioned he’d become. He no longer knew who he was. He no longer wished on sakura blossoms for his parents to see that he was a good hero and wanted him home again. He no longer believed people when they said they loved him. He had no hope. Only the passing of time that would inevitably still. 

Eijiro’s plan was to make it to winter break. He could say goodbye and by the time graduation rolled around, he would be long forgotten. It was easier that way. Easier for everyone. There was a part of him that knew this was irrational. That knew he should try something, do more. But the problem was, he didn’t care anymore. Not about himself at least. 

****

“KIRISHIMA!” He stumbled back as Mina jumped into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and legs around his waist before hopping off and smacking him on the shoulder. “You completely disappeared! You said you’d be traveling, not completely off the grid?” Her bright eyes glared at him. 

There were perks that came with having parents that didn’t speak to you. Eijiro was supposed to take over the family business, but had chosen the hero route instead and by the time he had been accepted to UA, they had packed his room up and told him to never return because heroes die and they refused to wait to mourn their son. Instead, they decided it was better for them to believe he was already dead. 

That was hit number 150 to his self-confidence. His own parents didn’t even believe he would be a good enough hero to survive, so how could he?

“You have to tell me everything!” Mina grabbed his hand, pulling him towards her room when a voice that had kept him afloat more times than he could count called down the hallway.

“SHITTY HAIR! Grab one of those boxes for me!” 

Mina sighed, a crease forming on her forehead as she realized her gossip session had been interrupted. He looked at her, willing a smile to his eyes. She groaned. “Goooo.”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Catch you later Mina.”

“You didn’t get away that easily, I still want to know everything.”

He sped off, hoping that at some point Mina would forget and he wouldn’t have to make up some magical vacation off the top of his head. 

Bakugo’s room sat across the hallway from his. It had been like that since their first year and Mr. Aizawa had made it clear that would never change. He’d laughed at the way his teacher had grumbled that Bakugo tolerated him more than most and if saving school property meant making some preferential room assignments, then he’d make that sacrifice. 

He grabbed the box at the door, walking into a room that had been organized the same since the day they’d become friends. Except as he watched Bakugo unpack, his eyes caught two photos, sitting next to his laptop. Eijiro inched closer, knowing that it would take a moment for Bakugo to actually turn around and acknowledge him. When he started something, it didn’t matter who you were. The task at hand had to be completed. 

Eijiro picked the photo up, turning it over in his palms. The first was a photo of him and Bakugo. One that Mina had taken off guard at their last Bakusquad picnic. Bakugo had managed to drag him out of bed, mumbling how lazy he was to be in bed still at 8am while throwing clothes at him. It was right before they parted ways at the start of summer. The second sent a lump straight into Eijiro’s throat. He didn’t know there was photographic evidence of that moment. Even more sickening, he didn’t know why someone thought one of the most painful moments of his life was worth taking a photo of. 

Since the USJ battle, he’d felt particularly insecure about who he was as a hero. Fatgum had tried so hard to pull him out of that shell, that Eijiro had decided he would be one of two people he’d never disappoint. So when he turned around in the middle of a war that determined the fate of hero society as they knew it to see Aizawa sobbing and Best Jeanist standing over a body that looked all too familiar. A body he had fallen asleep next to one too many nights in a row, a body with scars he had traced so often he could draw them from memory, Eijiro had fallen to his knees. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. He had failed. The one person that had trusted him with his life had died and Eijiro, at that moment, couldn’t find any reason to keep fighting. His parents were right. He would never be a good hero. How could he if he let his best friend die on the battlefield? 

To be honest, Eijiro would have walked straight into Shigaraki’s pathway had Midoriya not shown up moments later. He would have welcomed the way he imagined turning to dust felt like, disappearing into the wind slowly, letting it carry him away from everything. He put the photo down, exactly where he had found it and stepped away. 

Why did he have that photo? Was he secretly mad at him? Did he hate him for failing him? 

“Ei!” Eijiro jumped, startled at the urgency in Bakugo’s voice. He turned to find Bakugo next to him, his palm held open as if he were waiting for something. 

“Hmm?”

“...The wrench.”

“Oh,” Eijiro opened the box labeled tools and passed it over. Bakugo’s hair had grown over the summer, and even sitting on the floor with his hair braided and tied in a bun on top of his head with smaller braids wrapped around it, he still managed to look edgy. He knew Mina hadn’t done that - Bakugo wouldn’t let Mina near his head with a ten foot pole which meant he must have done it himself. 

“You good?” Bakugo stared at him, eyes narrowed. 

“Oh, yeah,” he grinned. “I’m always good.” Bakugo had a scar on the left side of his face, another remnant of the war. Shoto had made a comment about them being scar buddies, but at night, Eijiro saw the way Bakugo avoided mirrors, so he’d spend time running his finger down his face, pressing his lips against the soft spots where scar tissue met healthy skin because that’s what best friends did - right? Besides, Eijiro would never be good enough for Bakugo. Not in that way. 

“Need anything else?”

Bakugo turned. “You have somewhere to be?”

“I just…haven’t unpacked yet either,” he scratched the back of his neck. 

Bakugo rolled his eyes, his head tilting as he spoke. “And you think I’m just going to ask you to help me and not do the same Shitty Hair?”

“I- no man, you don’t gotta help me. I got this.” 

“I know you got it,” Bakugo took a deep breath and Eijiro braced for impact, but instead, Bakugo spoke. “Doesn’t mean you have to do it alone dumbass.”

Eijiro chuckled. “Alright bro, I appreciate you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugo answered, turning back to the risers he was installing on his own bed. “You’re alright yourself Shitty Hair.”

—---------------------------------

That night when Eijiro went to sleep with all the posters hung on his wall and his bed secured to the floor on Bakugo’s orders on the off chance he activated his quirk in his sleep, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d been a nuisance. Bakugo had found the glow-in-the-dark stars he’d tucked away in his suitcase and rolled his eyes as Eijiro told him they didn’t have to go up. Instead, Bakugo had found Momo, gotten a ladder and spent two hours arranging them on his ceiling in “the correct way a constellation should look.” 

They were the only thing he had taken from his old room. He’d bought them one summer before things got bad and asked his parents to help him put them up, but they’d said no. It would be too hard to get down if they decided to sell the house. It wouldn’t be worth the effort. So he had tucked them away, in hopes that one day, when he had his own place he could put them up and admire them. But that dream disappeared and Eijiro had tucked them where he wouldn’t find them, not realizing there were still some things that you couldn’t get past Bakugo. As he looked up at the stars that glowed back at him, Eijiro dozed off, thinking to himself that he would only break his own heart by expecting people to be as attached to him as he was to them. 

—---------------------------------

Eijiro tapped his pencil against the desk, his leg bouncing as Present Mic taught the day's lesson on Greek Mythology. It was the end of September and for the most part, he had made it by. He went to his mandatory therapy sessions, something Principal Nezu had required for every student after the war and nodded and smiled and gave the answers that were expected of him. He sparred with Bakugo the way he always did, but once in a while branched out to spar with Mina or Shoji. To be honest, he really loved sparring with Shoji. He was level-headed, but had a level of foresight that Eijiro aimed to have. He imagined it came from the way people treated him. When you’re always having to wonder if someone’s going to throw something at you for how you looked, it makes sense that you would be hypervigilant to everything and everyone around you. Shoji never pushed either. He was always able to sense when Eijiro was starting to give up and would suggest a water break. Eijiro found comfort in that. 

Today’s lesson was on Achilles and Eijiro had all but zoned out. There was a point in time where he believed therapy would help. He had spent nights thinking about how to tell the school mandated therapist that something was wrong but the first time he went in and tested his luck, she’d tilted her head and given him a look. One that felt like she was starting to see through the cracks in his persona and he tightened up, never to show that weakness again. He didn’t want to hear about tests for anxiety or depression because that made him weak and heroes weren’t weak. A hero with either of those couldn’t go home and tell his parents, “I did it, I survived.”

“Kirishima? Little listener you there?” 

He shook his head. “Sorry Sensei, what were you asking?”

“What does it mean to have an Achilles heel?”

“To have a vulnerability, a point of weakness.”

“Right! And tell me, what do you think your Achilles Heel is?”

His eyes shifted slightly to Bakugo. If he were to answer correctly he would either be wheeled out or Bakugo would look at him like he was absolutely insane. Neither of those options felt correct. So instead, he shrugged. 

“I’m a shield, but I’m still learning how to be a better sword.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bakugo turn to look at him, one eyebrow raised, completely unconvinced with his answer. Eijiro shrugged and smiled sheepishly as Aizawa entered the classroom and whispered something to Present Mic. Suddenly, both of them were staring at him. 

“Kirishima,” Aizawa called out. “Can I borrow you for a moment? You can bring your bag, class will be out by the time we’re done.”

He nodded, packing his bag and walking towards the door, ignoring the whispers and stares. It had been a while since someone had been called out of class. The last person that it happened to was Mineta, and he never returned. But that wasn’t the problem. Eijiro knew his brain was being ridiculous and overthinking it. He would be okay. They weren’t going to kick him out. 

“What’s going on Mr. Aizawa?”

“It shows on my roster that you’ve never taken our anxiety, depression and PTSD analysis,” For someone who was always in a sleeping bag, he moved quickly and Eijiro had to pick up his pace to keep up. “It’s mandatory.”

Eijiro froze for a moment, then turned the mood switch he kept in reserve for times like these on high.  “Oh come on Mr. Aizawa,” he grinned, wrapping an arm around his Sensei’s shoulder. “Out of everyone in our class, do I look like someone who needs to take that test?”

They’d arrived at Sensei’s office at the end of the corridor. Aizawa hadn’t answered but had instead held the door open to let Eijiro in where he saw the school therapist sitting as well. 

“Listen Kirishima, you and I both know that you’ve been through a lot in the last two and a half years. Your face having seen your best friend dead on the battlefield was posted on many online tabloids and you watched many of your teachers and role models die.”

Oh, so that’s where Bakugo had found that image. 

“I also know better than anyone, having lived with Present Mic for the last fifteen years, what self-deception looks like. You may be fooling your friends Kirishima, but we’ve all seen the pain seeping through the cracks.”

“I don’t … I’m not sure what you’re talking about sir.”

Aizawa didn’t answer him this time, instead looking towards the therapist. Her hero name was Bleu, but there wasn’t much about her online. The school hadn’t told them her quirk, stating that it was dangerous for the public to know. The only thing they knew was that she had a doctorate in psychology and specialized in working with heroes in training. Eijiro felt a shudder up his spine. Suddenly, everything felt wrong. 

“Kirishima,” Dr. Bleu spoke then, her voice steady and calm. “Last year when I saw you, there was a moment that you asked, ‘What if everything isn’t okay? Would I still be a good hero then?’ Do you remember that?” 

He nodded, his voice caught in his throat. 

“Well, I’m telling you this because I need you to know that we think this is very important and I’m willing to take a risk if it means saving one student,” she leaned back, her eyes filled with something that resembled pity. It made Eijiro sick to his stomach. He knew pity. He’d seen it all his life from everyone. But he never saw it here. Not at UA. Not until now. “For the last year as your counselor, I’ve been watching your aura. When we first met, yours bounced between yellow, a sign of fear of loss and a dull red, meaning you were hurt and angry about something. I wasn’t worried because that was normal. You’d seen death, you’d been through a war and you seemed to be coping better than others.”

Eijiro looked at Aizawa for a sign, for anything that could let him know that this wasn’t going where he thought it was going but his teacher’s face was blank. 

“When you left for summer break, your aura had shifted to a deep gray and I was worried, but your teachers and I decided it would be best to give you time. Maybe summer break would help.”

Aizawa sat up then. “We spoke with a few of your friends casually, asked about your summer break but they said you went traveling with your parents.”

Eijiro felt his heartbeat speed up then. There was one person that knew the truth about his parents, and that was Aizawa. 

“Kirishima,” Aizawa leaned forward. “Did you spend your summer alone?”

He shook his head. “N-no sensei, not technically. I lived alone, but I volunteered daily. Helped a family out.”

Aizawa turned to Dr. Bleu who shook her head. He sighed then, putting his head in his hands. “Kirishima, you and your classmates, as … unruly and unconventional as you are…I care about you. You more than others have grown on me. But you need to be truthful with me and with yourself.”

“Your aura has disappeared Kirishima,” Dr. Bleu spoke then. I saw it when you walked in on move-in day, but I thought it was a fluke with my own quirk. So I waited and watched you for the last two weeks and for some reason, even when you sat in my office with a very clear smile on your face, telling me everything is fine, your aura was still missing.”

“W-what does that mean?”

Aizawa sighed, handing him a piece of paper. “Kirishima, I need you to take this quiz and answer it truthfully, then we’ll answer all your questions.” He watched as Aizawa placed the paper on top of a book he could press on, handing it over with a pencil as well. 

Eijiro glanced at the questions: 

Over the last two weeks how often have you been bothered by the following problems:

1. Little interest or no please in doing anything
2. Feeling down, depressed or hopeless
3. Trouble falling asleep, staying asleep or sleeping too much
4. Feeling tired or having little energy
5. Poor Appetite or Overeating
6. Feeling bad about yourself - or that you’re a failure or have let yourself or your family down
7. Trouble concentrating on things, such as reading the newspaper or watching television
8. Thoughts that you would be better off dead or of hurting yourself in some way

He shuddered. If he answered the way Aizawa wanted him to, he’d never be a hero. He already wasn’t good enough. This would only confirm it. 

Each question had a box to check next to: Not at all, Several days, more than half the days, and nearly everyday. With a sigh, he answered number one, checking the box for several days. He could be somewhat honest. Honest enough that they thought he was a normal amount of not okay. So he went down the line, one by one ticking several days for all of them until he got to number 8. He stared at it for a moment, before checking none at all knowing that would officially mark him off the potential hero list when he heard a pencil snap and he looked up to find Aizawa staring back at him, tears in his eyes.

“Kirishima,” he rasped. “I can’t help you be the hero you want to be if you won’t tell me the truth.”

Eijiro felt like something in him snapped then. He was right. He had been right all along. He couldn't be a hero if something was wrong with him and they could see it. They saw that he might need fixing. 

 He’d seen his teacher cry before, seen him hurt, seen him in battle, but he had never once been the cause for his tears. Once again, he had caused someone pain. He felt the welcome feeling of his body folding into itself, retreating to the space in his brain where he was safe when Dr. Bleu put a hand on his shoulder. 

“No aura means that a person is dead inside Kirishima,” Dr. Bleu said. “It means they… they no longer have the will to live.”

Eijiro stood then, the pencil, paper and book dropping to the floor. “You must be wrong. Your quirk…it’s wrong. It’s all wrong.”

He turned to look at Mr. Aizawa who was also standing, hands gripping his desk a little too tightly. “This is a mistake, you’ve got the wrong student,” Eijiro said, backing towards the door. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Chapter Text

I remember the first time I met you, Katsuki. You glared at me as if you could see that I was faking my entire persona but there was something else, something that drew me to you. Beneath that hard exterior and rough persona lay tenacity that I could only aim to compete with. You have 110% to everything you did and I thought to myself, “Wow, if I can do that, I can be a great hero too.” You inspired me. You gave me hope.

Three Months Ago  

Eijiro bolted down the hallway, past Shoji who spun and looked at him confused, past Denki who yelled out asking who set his pants on fire and turned a corner past Bakugo who tried to grab his arm. But Eijiro had learned how to escape Bakugo’s grasp and maneuvered out, bolting down the hall, completely avoiding eye contact with the one friend he didn’t want to see him fall apart. 

The dorms were empty this time of day, with no one to say anything to him, he slowed his pace gripping his backpack tightly against him as he opened his room door, slamming it shut and sliding down the door, tears streaming down. 

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t happen. 

All of his progress. He was so close. So so close and it was all about to be messed up by a quirk. A stupid quirk.  He sat there, arms wrapped around his legs. How long did he have until Aizawa came and took his door off the hinges? He glanced at the suitcase that sat under his bed, the one that held the bottles he had bought at the pharmacy over the summer when he had first made his decision. 

No. 

It was too soon. 

Eijiro shook his head. He would figure this out, but first, he would sleep. He grabbed a melatonin gummy and pulled his curtain closed when a soft knock rang against his door. He froze. 

“Ei?” Bakugo’s voice was low enough to not alert anyone else, but loud enough for Kirishima to hear through the door. “Eij are you in there? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Kirishima pressed his forehead against the door. He couldn’t find the will to open it but he wanted to. 

“Ei,” Bakugo breathed. “Open the door, please.”

He backed away, hoping Bakugo would leave when the doorknob turned and he realized he had forgotten to lock it. Turning, he flopped onto his bed, listening to the soft padding of Bakugo walking towards him. He’d learned the way everything Bakugo did sounded and now, he welcomed it. Being around him reminded him of what it must feel like to have a home, a place where he could truly feel safe. 

“Hey,” he felt the bed dip as Bakugo sat next to him. “Talk.”

“Don’t wanna,” Eijiro mumbled into his pillow. He heard a soft huff, then the sound of something thudding to the floor and suddenly arms were wrapped around him. 

“You’re an idiot,” Bakugo said into his shoulder, tugging him close. “You spent the last half of last year barging into my room unannounced in the middle of the night when you’d hear me thrashing around from a nightmare.”

Eijiro said nothing, letting the hot tears fall as he turned around and pressed his face against Bakugo’s chest. 

“What happened with sensei?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it yet,” Eijiro mumbled again. He didn’t. He couldn’t come up with an excuse and his brain was starting to feel fuzzy as the melatonin kicked in. “Sleepy.”

He felt Bakugo’s chest rise and fall as a low chuckle escaped his throat as he ran a finger up and down Eijiro’s spine.In the last year, since the moment Bakugo’s heart had stopped beating, Eijiro had told himself he wouldn’t let that happen again. He pressed his ear closer, listening to the soft thump thump that sometimes went off beat. That was the murmur that he’d always have. His heart would be okay but having something piercing through it meant he wouldn’t always come out 100%. 

Since then, most nights Eijiro found himself in Bakugo’s bed more times than he could count. Some nights it was to hold him as a nightmare racked through his body and he woke up gripping his heart, tears in his eyes. Some nights he’d tell Eijiro about how it felt like he could feel hands in his chest, pushing and pulling his heart. But most nights, Bakugo sobbed silently, arms wrapped around Eijiro as if he were the lifeboat keeping him afloat. 

“Kats,” Eijiro mumbled. 

“Hmm?”

“Can you braid my hair?”

Another low chuckle made Eijiro wonder if he had made a mistake. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked. It was stupid of him. Really, really stupid. Eijiro turned away then, tucking his pillow under his chin. 

“Yeah,” Bakugo answered, right as sleep started to call his name. “Been waiting for you to let me do that for a long time.”

—---------------------------------

“Do it again,” Eijiro grunted as Shoji pressed forward, slamming into him. Aizawa had been watching him carefully over the last few days but hadn’t confronted him. He kept waiting for it, as if it were a ticking time bomb that had no known limit. So when he approached them and advised him to try sparring with Shoji without his quirk, seeing as his quirk had limits to how long he could stay hardened, he was surprised. 

“Sometimes you have to learn to embrace your vulnerabilities,” Aizawa had said, turning to focus on another student. “Make it work for you.”

He had his worries at first, but Shoji had started small, working their way up into a full match. Shoji was a fierce competitor when it came down to it and Eijiro knew better than to underestimate him. He was quick and agile and Eijiro wasn’t quite used to having himself out in the open like this. He was used to being solid rock, unbreakable. The first few times, he’d stumbled and taken a hit or two in his side and chest. From the ground floor where he was he could feel Bakugo’s eyes staring. They still hadn’t spoken about it, and Bakugo thankfully hadn’t asked, but he was starting to worry that soon enough, Bakugo would get angry with him for keeping it to himself. 

“You ready?” Shoji called out. Eijiro nodded, falling into the rhythm of offense and defense. Shoji swung and he ducked, side-swiping him when Shoji spotted an opening, swinging and pinning Eijiro to the wall with a force that knocked the breath out of him. 

“You think any child of mine is going to be a hero? Is going to go out there and die? You weren’t good enough to save your friends from a villain on the street, what makes you think you can keep a whole city safe?”  

Rough hands were around his neck as he stood, backed into a corner. 

“You’re not my child Eijiro,” his father let go, and he gasped for air. “No child of mine would ever have a dream so foolish. Pack your shit and go.”

“Go where?” he asked, eyes searching. This was a joke, it had to be a joke. 

“Who fucking cares,” his father yelled, turning away from him. “As long as I don’t see your face again. Better I do this now before I get the news that you’ve been killed.” He turned then, looking Eijiro in the eyes. “You’re never going to be good enough to survive as a hero.”

“I can be good enough,” he choked. “Please, please don’t do this. I can be what you need me to be.” He dropped to the floor, scrambling but his legs wouldn’t move. “Please, you can’t just give up on me.”

His ears were ringing and the muffled sound of someone calling his name caught his attention but he couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t enough air to fill his lungs and fuck he was going to die on the floor of a fucking training room. This wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted this shit on his own terms goddammit. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck.

“Kirishima,” Shoji stood over him, concerned. Behind him stood Bakugo and Aizawa and in the distance, the rest of the class had paused what they were doing. Eijiro felt like he had been stepped on. His body was shaking. Somehow he had ended up in his hardened form.  “Kirishima, are you okay?”

“What happened?” Aizawa asked. 

“We…we were sparring and I pinned him and he started shaking and saying that… that he could be good enough,” Shoji trailed off, kneeling at Eijiro’s side. “Who did this? Who hurt you Kirishima?”

Aizawa was in front of him then, red eyes with bags under them and a pensive stare that waited patiently. “Watch me,” he said, then took a deep breath in, motioning for Kirishima to do the same. So he did. 

“Breathe out,” Aizawa said. So he did. “Again.”

They repeated that over and over and suddenly, his chest was no longer constricted and there was air in the room and oh god everyone was staring. 

He waited then. Waited for someone to say that he probably shouldn’t be there. To tell him he didn’t belong in a hero course if he can’t keep himself together when he saw steel-toed boots in his line of sight. He looked up to find Bakugo in front of him, hand held out. Eijiro took it, allowing himself to be pulled up as Bakugo pulled him into a hug. “I’m here, I got you.”

He wanted to cry, wanted to tell him everything, but telling him everything would mean he’d hate him even more and he couldn’t stand that. Not right now. When he finally pulled back, Bakugo regarded him, hands firm on his shoulder, then his neck, then cupping his face before he pressed his forehead against Eijiro’s.

“You okay?” Bakugo said, loud enough for only him to hear. 

Eijiro nodded. From this close, he could see the orange flecks in Bakugo’s eyes. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Aizawa stepped in then, placing a hand on Kirishima’s shoulder. 

“Walk with me?” 

He looked back at Bakugo, then nodded. There was no getting out of this, not this time. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Bakugo nodded, letting go of his hand. Eijiro turned then, looking at Shoji, “I’m sorry, it wasn’t you.”

“It wasn’t you either, Kirishima,” Shoji answered. But he didn’t believe that. Eijiro knew that was the furthest thing from the truth. 

—---------------------------------

Eijiro followed Aizawa down the hallway, walking in silence when he realized they were walking in the opposite direction of his office. 

“Wh-where are we going?”

Aizawa didn’t answer, leading him to a stairwell. Eijiro felt his breath quicken, wondering if this was the end for him. If Aizawa had finally had enough. The door closed behind him and he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Aizawa spoke softly. “You just looked like you needed some air. Follow me, okay?”

Eijiro nodded, following him to the top of the stairs that led to the rooftop. He looked around, able to see all of UA from here. Eijiro closed his eyes, feeling the way the breeze brushed against his face. It was quiet up here. Peaceful. 

“What do you know about my friend Oboro Shirakumo?” Aizawa asked. His hands were tucked in his pocket as he leaned against the side of the building, looking out into distance. 

“I…I only know that he’s now the Nomu known as Kurogiri,” Eijiro answered. He hadn’t heard too much about Oboro, only bits and pieces that he’d heard around the school. 

“When I was growing up, I had a best friend named Oboro Shirakumo. Along with Present Mic and Midnight, we had a plan to open an agency when we graduated. We were going to do things our own way, not the way society wanted us too. Then one day while we were out on patrol, shit went down. Oboro ran into a building to save some kids. I was supposed to have his back. The building collapsed and he didn’t make it out.”

Eijiro stared blankly, unsure of why his teacher was telling him all this, but at the same time, he was intrigued.

“When I first met you Kirishima, my first thought was that you were exactly like Oboro. Where you were, sunshine followed. He was like that too,” Aizawa turned to look at him. “I don’t want you to lose your sunshine Kirishima. I lost mine for a long time. I’ve lost Oboro and Midnight and some days, I want nothing more than to just give up.”

“Why do you do it?” Eijiro said, his voice barely a whisper. 

His teacher shrugged. “For you all. Your class has taught me what hope is again. Especially you Kirishima,” he walked towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Let me help you. I don’t want to lose you too Kirishima. We’ve all suffered enough loss.”

Eijiro wasn’t sure what to tell Aizawa. He knew he didn’t want to be there. He knew he’d be lying to him. But at the same time, in that moment, he didn’t want to disappoint him either, so he nodded, taking Aizawa’s hand, letting it pull him in for a hug. 

—---------------------------------

That evening, Eijiro found himself in his room with a plan for the semester. Instead of the usual once a week therapy sessions, he would meet twice a week with Dr. Bleu and once a month he would check in with Aizawa. At first he had panicked, but he knew he could get through it. He could give them enough. Just enough for them to think they were making progress. He just had to make it through the next three months. 

He sat on the floor of his bedroom, turning the bottle of pills over in his palm before tucking it away once more. Laying back, he stared at the stars on his ceiling, counting the constellations Bakugo had created, hoping that even when he was gone, they’d stay up there for future students to admire. If this is all that he’ll leave behind, some glowing stars on a ceiling, he could be okay with that. 

Chapter Text

There’s something strange about standing on a precipice. It’s as though you’ve waited your entire life for this one moment and suddenly, you’re unsure. But you’re already standing at the edge and you can’t look back. The only way out is to let go. I’ve been trying really hard to not let go. But each day gets harder and harder and trying feels impossible. I haven’t stopped wondering where it all went wrong. Where I went wrong. Maybe it was all on my parents. Maybe it was me. Maybe these words lost all meaning the moment you all realized that I’ve been lying this whole time. Pretending. Or maybe, maybe none of that matters. They stopped loving me when I needed it most. I stopped loving myself. Not everything needs or deserves a reason or a perfect ending - I definitely don’t. 

Two months ago

“How are you feeling today Kirishima?”

Dr. Bleu’s office was brightly lit and he had to squint sometimes when the clouds moved and the rays hit shone directly on his face. She was a small woman, and looked as young as Mirko. He imagined they might have been in the same hero class. Outside, hints of winter were rolling in. It was late October and the leaves were changing colors, some falling off the trees already. 

“I mean…I'm alive,” he shrugged. “I went for ice-cream with Bakugo last night and we watched High School Musical 2.”

“Is that his favorite movie?”

“Ahh,” Eijiro scratched the back of his neck. “No, it’s actually mine.”

“Who suggested it?”

“He did.”

“Was there a specific reason?”

He tugged at the rubberband on his wrist. “He knows something’s wrong.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“What would I tell him?” Eijiro felt his throat suddenly constrict at the thought of telling Bakugo the truth. He believed heroes didn’t need to show weakness. He was proof of that. 

“What scares or worries you about telling Bakugo?”

“He wouldn’t get it,” Eijiro looked out the window, thinking that maybe it was alright to let the sun burn his corneas just a little. 

“And what makes you think that?”

He groaned. “Do you ever not answer a response with a question?”

Dr. Bleu chuckled, still waiting for his response. 

“He just wouldn’t.”

“I think,” she paused. “That you might be underestimating your friend, Eijiro. Tell me, what does Bakugo mean to you? I don’t think we’ve ever fully talked about that. You tell me he’s your best friend. You tell me you comfort him when he gets nightmares and sleeps in the same bed. 

Eijiro felt a warmth in his cheeks. “To keep the nightmares away.”

“Right,” Dr. Bleu answered. “Do you think that Bakugo sees having nightmares as being weak? As not being…hero-like?”

He picked at his fingernails, unsure of how to answer that. Bakugo cried openly in front of him, told him things he never shared with anyone else, and let him touch his scars. But Bakugo wasn’t weak, so maybe, maybe Bakugo thought that it was okay to share this with Eijiro because he was weak. He wouldn’t tell anyone. His secrets were safe as long as he told Eijiro because no one would believe him because he was weak.

“What’s going on in there?” Dr. Bleu asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. He shrugged, not wanting to share that thought. “Okay, how about this. Why don’t you tell me what you like most about being friends with Bakugo?”

He could do that. Eijiro could spend hours talking about how great Bakugo was. During his first year, he’d made Bakugo a list titled “Things That Make You Amazing” and gave it to him as a birthday gift. But it wasn’t the things everyone told Bakugo he was amazing for already. Eijiro knew he’d heard those things too much all the time. So he started to list things that he remembered from that list. 

“I like the way the sun shines on his hair in the morning,” he mumbled. “It looks like pieces of gold. I like the way the crease in his forehead that’s always there during the day, the one that makes him look perma-angry, disappears when he sleeps. It makes him look peaceful.”

Dr. Bleu nodded. “Go on.”

“I - I like that he’s not afraid to touch my hair. Everyone is usually afraid, or they say it’s spiky or hard as a rock. But he knows it’s only like that when I have gel in it. I.. I like when he tells me things that scare him, things that make him cry, things that stress him out, things like that.” He put his hands in his lap, noticing that he had started to pinch the skin on his thumb so hard that the thick skin on the corners started to poke out. He looked up to see Dr. Bleu smiling. 

“What?”

“You have strong feelings for Bakugo, don’t you Kirishima?”

He shook his head. “N-no, I don’t … I can’t.”

“Of course you can,” she put her pen down, crossing her legs. “Can I tell you something?”

Eijiro shrugged. It was her time, she was allowed to do what she wanted.

“I’ve seen a slight color show up around you twice in the last three weeks,” she leaned back in the chair. “And both times it happened when you were talking about Bakugo.”

Oh. 

Oh.

“Wh-what color?” the words felt heavy on his tongue. He wanted to know, but he didn’t.

“Pink.”

“What does that mean?” He pulled at the thick skin that was poking out the side of his thumb.. 

“It signifies something pure,” she answered. “In your case, it could mean that your friendship is selfless. You see each other with no regard for what anyone else thinks.”

“Or?” Because the or was sitting there on the tip of her tongue. He could see it in her eyes. Feel it in the way she paused. 

“That’s not important.”

“Please? I - I’d like to know.”

She looked at him for a moment, as if she was staring at something within him that he couldn’t reach. 

“It could mean that you have the purest form of love - selflessly, unconditionally. No matter what he does, no matter what happens. Nothing will change that type of love.” Eijiro looked away. She was wrong. He didn’t love Bakugo, not like that. 

No, that was wrong too. 

He did love Bakugo like that. The problem was that he didn’t think he deserved to be loved the way he knew he loved Bakugo. Being loved, loved by Bakugo…would that change anything? What would happen when Bakugo saw all these parts of him and realized he wasn’t worthy of that love? No, he couldn’t take that risk either. 

“It’s okay to want to be loved,” Dr. Bleu’s hand was on his shoulder. “And it’s okay to love Kirishima. It’s not the worst thing in the world.”

He shrugged again, not wanting to have that conversation with her. She’d pick the words he didn’t want to say out of his sentences. She’d figure it out. 

“How about we talk about your parents instead,” she picked her pen and notepad up again. “Mr. Aizawa tells me that your relationship with them is complicated. How so?”

He grimaced. “It’s not complicated, it’s non-existent.”

“Why is that?”

With a sigh, he told her bits and pieces. Told her how he was never allowed to show emotions that weren’t manly which meant no crying or being sad. If he did, his father would harden his hand and slap him until his skin was raw. If he accidentally hardened, which happened a few times, the slaps would turn into punches and come down harder and faster. But he didn’t tell her that. Instead, he told her that they kicked him out, that they didn’t speak to him anymore. 

“Did they give you a reason?”

“Heroes die, and they’d rather I be dead to them now than to get the news through the television.”

“Not all heroes die,” she countered. “Look at All Might.”

He scoffed. Was she really trying to convince him that the walking skeleton wasn’t dead?

“Okay, he might not be that great of an example,” she chuckled. “But there’s Mr. Aizawa, Present Mic, FatGum… Mirko! Look at Mirko! With the technological advances, she’s still out fighting even with her prosthetics.”

Eijiro liked Mirko. Admired her even. But he also felt a sadness bubble in his chest when he imagined her fighting. She should be retired, enjoying the rest of her life. After everything, she shouldn’t be out fighting with three prosthetics still. She’d done so much and still, they wanted more. Would they expect that from him? Would they want him to protect them even when he had nothing left to give?  Eijiro didn’t want that for his life either. His parents wanted nothing and yet hero society wanted everything from him.

“I guess,” he answered instead. 

“Tell me Kirishima,” she scribbled something on the notepad. “What was it that made you decide to come to UA even after your parents kicked you out? Even after they decided for themselves that you weren’t good enough to be a hero that lived.”

“I wanted to prove them wrong.”

“Okay,” she kept writing, then paused, looking up at him. “This week, I want you to come up with reasons why you think you should be a hero. I don’t want you to consider your parents, or your friends. Why do you, Eijiro Kirishima, think that you should be a hero?”

That was the problem though, wasn’t it?  Eijiro had no answer for that. 

“I’ll see you next week?”

He grabbed his book bag, swinging it over his shoulder. “Yeah, see you later.”

—---------------------------------

Eijiro ducked his head as he stepped out of Dr. Bleu’s office having heard Bakugo’s voice in the hallway. He quickened his pace, keeping close to the lockers when a voice called out. 

“Ei.”

He paused, knowing he wouldn’t be able to run. Running would make him look like he was hiding something which would only make Bakugo run after him. He turned, forcing a smile on. 

“Hey Bakubro,” he grinned. 

“Cut the bullshit,” Bakugo said, his eyes searching for Eijiro’s face. “I asked Aizawa where you were and he said you had a meeting with Dr. Bleu but you usually meet on Tuesdays. It’s Thursday so this has something to do with what happened at training a few weeks ago.”

“Uhh… yeah,” he shrugged.

“How long you been having 'em?” 

“What?”

“Panic attacks - I get them too, you know that,” Bakugo stared at him. 

Eijiro looked back at him, wide-eyed. He’d never actually regarded Bakugo’s late night fits as panic attacks, just small moments where Bakugo was human. He was afraid and worried and Eijiro was there for all of it. He’d do it without question. 

“Fucking hell Shitty Hair,” Bakugo smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “How long have you been hiding them from me?”

He shrunk away then, worried that he’d truly fucked up. That Bakugo would retaliate the way his father did. He knew. He knew he wouldn’t. But it was hard to fight reflex and the look on Bakugo’s face made it that much worse. He watched as his friend’s face shifted from annoyance to confusion to something Eijiro couldn’t place. 

Bakugo reached out then, taking Eijiro’s hand. “Come on,” he said. “Let's go get something to eat.”

Eijiro nodded, letting Bakugo lead him.

Chapter Text

I don’t want you all to see me as someone broken. I’ve been this way for a long time. Maybe it’s my own version of whole. But I do know this. The first time our hands intertwined was the first time I felt like I could breathe Katsuki. Maybe in another life I’d be brave enough to tell you that it feels like we were made for each other. But I can’t be sure if my brain is playing tricks on me, making me think that you might feel the same way. Time doesn’t heal all wounds. Sometimes, nothing does. 

Two Months Ago 

Eijiro adored Bakugo’s cooking. He sat on the counter, watching as he chopped green onion. If he didn’t want to be a hero, Eijiro thought that he might have a promising future as a chef. He kicked his feet, thinking about all the meals Bakugo had cooked for him in the past, the excitement on his face and the way his cheeks flushed red when he’d ask Eijiro to taste something before he served it when Midoriya popped into the kitchen. 

“Hey Kacchan,” he leaned against the wall. “Hey Kiri.”

“What’s up Midobro?” Eijiro grinned. “The scent of his cooking called you too didn’t it?”

Midoriya laughed. It was still strange to Eijiro. When he’d first met Midoriya, he had this high pitched voice and laugh that was weird but endearing. It had dropped several octaves over their second year and he still had to do a double take when he heard it. It had happened to all of them, but in comparison to where his voice once was, Midoriya’s voice change was stark. 

“It’s pretty hard to miss.”

“Well it’s not for you nerd,” Bakugo mumbled as he ground white pepper into whatever it was he was making. “Two’s company, three means I’m still not against hurting you.”

“That would have scared me two years ago Kacchan,” Midoriya pushed off the wall, turning towards the stairs. “But you know it doesn’t anymore.”

“And yet you’re still walking away,” Bakugo answered. 

Eijiro had always found their relationship interesting. Bakugo had told him everything, long before the rest of the class had known. And he had understood, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Bakugo had taken the past feelings he had for Midoriya and placed them on him. Was there a part of Bakugo that secretly resented Eijiro? Did he want him to leave him alone? Was he just someone that followed behind Bakugo that he’d one day shove away?

“Stop that,” Bakugo looked at him out the corner of his eyes. Eijiro looked up confused and panicked. Had he said that out loud? “You get this look on your face when you’re thinking too hard about something.”

“What look?”

“The one that’s still on your face,” Bakugo started chopping again. “Whatever’s bothering you, it’s not worth stressing over.”

“Yeah.”

He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the cupboard, resigning to listen to the sound of pots and pans and Bakugo moving skillfully around the kitchen when he felt something cold press into the palm of his hands. He opened his eyes, looking down to see a piece of mochi. 

“Matcha,” Bakugo was cleaning up. “I know I’m big on waiting for dessert but you’ve had a long week and you look like you’re falling asleep. I’ll be damned if you sleep before you eat the food I just slaved away in here cooking for you.”

Eijiro laughed. “Thanks man.”

He bit into the mochi, watching as Bakugo shared food onto their plates then turned towards the stairs. 

“Come on,” Bakugo looked at him. “The vultures can fend for themselves with what’s left in the pot and clean the rest up.”

“You know they won’t,” Eijiro grabbed two bottles of green tea from the fridge and bounded up the stairs behind him.

“One can hope,” Bakugo said, setting the plates down on the floor. They ate in silence, shoulder to shoulder for a while. Bakugo took the plates when they were done, disappearing for a moment. When he returned, Eijiro had flopped on his bed. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

He looked up at Bakugo. “What do you mean?”

“It’s me, isn’t it,” Bakugo looked away, staring up at the ceiling. “The scar, the … the day I died.”

Eijiro’s mouth fell open. 

“You don’t have to stay if it’s too much,” Bakugo whispered. “I shouldn’t have expected you to be my crutch. If it’s…if I’m too much. I can't imagine what it must be, living with that image in your head. I- I see the picture of your face and I keep thinking, 'I did that, I made Eijiro feel that much pain' because I wasn't strong enough.”

Eijiro grabbed him, wrapping his arms around him, breathing in the way he always smelled like mahogany with a tinge of firewood. "It wasn't that you weren't good strong enough. Fuck,” Eijiro breathed. "You died. You're my best friend and you died and I couldn't imagine my world without you."

He decided then that it wouldn't hurt to admit something. In the quiet shroud of Bakugo's room, some words felt safe enough to leave the chest he kept them in. "In that moment, all I could think was that I'd walk into Shigaraki's path if it meant that I'd get to follow you to some other lifetime."

"You're an idiot," Bakugo sniffled. 

"Your idiot," Eijiro ran his hand through Bakugo's hair. 

He felt Bakugo’s breath hitch, realizing that he was still crying, and pulled him closer. “Then…what’s going on? Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s nothing serious,” Eijiro answered. “I promise, you don’t need to worry. But if it ever gets to that point, I will. Okay?”

He felt Bakugo nod against his shoulder. They shifted until they were comfortable. Bakugo turned the lights off from his phone and wrapped an arm around Eijiro’s waist. Eijiro stared at the dark ceiling, listening as Bakugo’s breathing slowed. 

“Ei,” Bakugo mumbled, sleep heavy on his tongue. 

“Yeah Kats?”

“I don’t ever want this to end.”

“Want what to end?”

“This,” Bakugo mumbled, burrowing his face further into Eijiro’s neck. “Us.”

Eijiro froze, unable to breathe for a moment. But this wasn’t real. He was asleep. He didn’t mean it. And still, Eijiro didn’t have the heart to break Bakugo’s heart. Not even in his sleepy haze. 

“It never will,” Eijiro answered, pressing his lips against Bakugo’s temple. He wouldn’t remember in the morning, so there was no harm done. He would allow himself that one simple pleasure. “I promise.”

—---------------------------------

One Month Ago

“Kirishima!” Denki laughed, tossing the controller. “How do you win at MarioKart every time?”

“It’s because I didn’t play this round,” Sero answered, stealing the controller from Denki who had placed last again. They sat in the common room after having eaten Bakugo’s cooking. Mina and Sero had tried once, but a burnt microwave and four broken plates later, Bakugo had banned them from ever touching the kitchen ever again. 

“Oh hey guys,” Mina turned, looking at Kirishima. “This wonderful human left the sweetest gift ever at my door the other day.” She pulled a bracelet and a dvd copy out of her bag, showing it off. “When we were kids, Kiri and I used to make handmade bracelets like this all the time!  But this, this is so perfect! It has our hero colors in it. Did you do this yourself?”

He nodded, smiling at Mina as she dove towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “What’s it for?” 

“I just appreciate you,” he chuckled. 

“You appreciate us all?” Sero asked with a laugh. “I got a gift too!”

“Me too,” Denki grinned. 

“I just…” Eijiro felt his cheeks redden as he looked away. “I just wanted to say thank you. You guys are the best part of going here and… we’ve been through a lot together and I just, I just wanted to say that you guys are the best.”

“KIRI!” They all cooed in unison. “You’re the best!”

He smiled, nodding as Sero sat next to him. “One more game?”

“Sure,” Eijiro answered. One more game wouldn’t hurt. 

—---------------------------------

One Week Ago

Eijiro woke up Monday morning with a smile on his face. He went to class and answered everything correctly, feeling pretty confident he had aced the quiz that Present Mic had popped on them. In training, he felt like he had a pretty successful spar with Shoji, managing to hold his own without his quirk and then at the strike of 3pm, he strolled down the hallway to Dr. Bleu’s office. As he walked in, she gasped. Tears poured from her eyes but a smile formed on her face. 

“What?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to decipher what her reaction meant.

“You’re green!” she grinned. 

“...what?” 

“Your aura,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. “It’s green!”

“Oh…sweet!... What does that mean?” he asked as he dropped his bag to the floor and sat down. 

“Contentment,” she answered. “It means you’re content.”

“Oh,” Eijiro shrugged. “I guess. I mean, I feel pretty okay.”

She nodded, sitting down and picking up her pen and paper. “Has anything happened? Any changes?”

He shook his head. “Honestly, I just feel pretty normal.”

“Normal is good,” she answered. “Have you been using the techniques we’ve been talking about?”

In the last month, they’d talked about healthy coping mechanisms. She’d given him a booklet with a few highlighted sections that she thought he should try out. He didn’t have the heart to tell her it was probably sitting in a stack somewhere, or crumpled up in his backpack. 

“Something like that,” he smiled. “I’ve just been living.”

“That’s good,” she smiled. “I’m really glad to hear that, Kirishima. How about this?” He watched as she wrote some notes down then ripped a paper and handed it to him. “Let’s go back to meeting once a week. You can give this to Mr. Aizawa on your way back to your dorms to let him know you’ve been cleared for once a week meetings now.”

Eijiro took the paper, turning it over in his hands. “Thanks,” he smiled. 

“See you next week, Kirishima.”

—---------------------------------

Eijiro knocked on Mr. Aizawa’s door, softly at first, then a little louder in case he was deep in his sleeping bag. There was always a bit of a fear when it came to knocking on Mr. Aizawa’s door. He wasn’t sure what it was exactly. No, he lied. It was the eyebags. Definitely the eyebags. 

“Come in,” a voice grumbled. 

“Mr. Aizawa?” Eijiro poked his head in. “I have paperwork for you.”

He watched as his teacher turned from the stack of papers that sat in front of him. He placed the coffee that was in his hand down as he looked at Eijiro. 

“What’s the paperwork for?”

Eijiro shrugged, handing it over to him. He watched as Aizawa read the paperwork, then folded it, placing it in a folder. He paused for a moment, staring at the folder before putting it away and looking up at Eijiro once more. 

“I don’t say this often, and if you tell anyone, I’ll deny these words ever left my mouth, but that doesn’t mean that I mean them any less,” Aizawa said, standing and placing his hands on Eijiro’s shoulders. “I’m really proud of you kid.”

Eijiro felt tears prick his eyes. It was the first time anyone had said those words and he couldn’t deny the way it made him feel. So he accepted it, leaning in, wrapping his arms around Aizawa. “No one’s ever said that before,” he whispered. 

He felt Aizawa stiffen for a moment, before he wrapped the arms that sat stiff around Eijiro and squeezed him just a little tighter. 

“I’m proud of you, Eijiro,” he said again. And for the first time in a long time, Eijiro allowed himself to cry. 

—---------------------------------

Present Day

As he sat on the floor of his room, Eijiro wondered if the scars on his body from the wars and battles he fought would ever tell a story he was proud of. He had grown up, accrued trauma and found emptiness that he disguised as love and an endless fountain of happiness. The problem was that eventually the facade crumbles.  His guilt had constricted him and he’d learned to manage his expectations for the people around him, but he was long past stumbling in the darkness. He was living in it. 

He could scream. He could cry. He could beg for help. But that all felt so far away. He felt far away. Eijiro stood, walking towards the balcony. With no shirt on, he could feel the frigid winter air in his bones. He closed his eyes, feeling more alive than he had ever felt for the first time in his life. In the night sky, stars crashed into the moon and the sky lit up and fuck everything was so goddamn beautiful.

He wondered if the bags under his eyes would tell a story. If they’d see the emptiness his pupils held once he was no longer behind them. Would they finally see the story of an almost hero who filled the ocean with his sadness until he could no longer bear the pressure of its depths? Or would they see a failure - A has been hero who cracked before hero society could break him even more?

Chapter Text

As heroes in training, we learn to be in control of our bodies down to the last millimeter, because if one finger, one body part is out of alignment…it all falls apart. So you practice movements until they’re perfect. You learn to control gravity, to control pain and refuse to let yourself get away with anything. But there’s one thing that doesn’t follow the rules that you wish you could control but can’t - your heart. 

Katsuki flopped onto his bed. It was almost 9:00 when the group chat started blowing up. Probably some dumb game in Sero’s room that went wrong.  He silenced it, staring at the door of his room. Usually by now, Eijiro would have knocked to say goodnight if he wasn’t staying over and as much as he hated to admit it, it had become such a vital part of his sleep schedule that he couldn’t sleep without it anymore. 

From the moment he had walked into UA, Eijiro had become a part of him. They were inseparable and if he was being completely honest, he didn’t really know who he was without Eijiro. The concept of having a best friend was foreign to him. Sure, there was Deku but he’d spent so much time hating him that by the time they became friends, Katsuki had finally understood what it meant to be a friend and he was sure that it was not what he and Deku had been. 

He didn’t deserve Deku. He didn’t even deserve Kirishima. But Kirishima had stuck to him like glue. He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up drawing literal embodiments of sunshine towards him but after a week, Eijiro had grown on him. He was strong. He was brave. He wasn’t afraid of showing his true feelings. He was everything Katsuki modeled as he made his slow change to be a better person. 

When the first half of the war happened, Eijiro was right at his side in the hospital. And the nights that followed. When the second half of the war happened, the fear that dripped off Eijiro was tangible. But there was something else too. Something that Katsuki couldn’t describe and it lingered. Even on the nights when he’d run his fingers through Katsuki’s hair and tell him that he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere, he could still feel it. But he didn’t ask. He didn’t want to spook him or say the wrong thing. 

At least, until he saw Eijiro bolt down the hallway with tears in his eyes, something he had only seen once, in a photograph that had made its rounds on the internet. One that Katsuki swore he would do everything in his power to ensure he never saw that look on Eijiro’s face again. Because Katsuki had died. He had died and it broke Eijiro and he worried that maybe, just maybe that was why something felt off with him. Maybe Eijiro was just afraid of losing him again and that was why he held him tighter and pulled him closer and pressed his lips against his forehead at night when he was fast asleep against Katsuki’s chest. But it was 9:25pm and there was no Eijiro, so with a groan, Katsuki sat up in bed. 

He walked to his desk to grab his glasses when he spotted something small and wrapped next to his laptop. He sat in his desk chair, opening it to find the leather bracelet that had broken at the end of their first year. It was a bracelet that had sat on his desk for so long. One that Eijiro had gotten him to signify them being best friends forever. They had cut it off his wrist after he had been impaled and he didn’t expect to see it again but here he was, turning it over in his palm when he noticed something engraved in the back. He chuckled at the sight of Eijiro’s shitty hardened finger handwriting that said “E+K Besties 4Ever.”

He suddenly felt something bubble in his chest. Why didn’t Eijiro just give it to him instead of leaving it on his desk? He rose, swinging open his door and walking across the hallway, turning the spare key he had to Eijiro’s room in the lock.

“EIJIRO KIRISHIMA I KNOW you didn’t leave a gift THIS FUCKING THOUGHTFUL on my desk without…” his voice trailed off, the bracelet falling from his palm. 

“Ei,” Bakugo paused, the fire in his palms suddenly losing its heat. “Ei, what are you doing?” 

He stepped forward slowly into the dimly lit room. Kirishima’s breathing was erratic and his body was swaying and for a moment Bakugo thought that the idiot had gotten too drunk and walked onto the ledge by accident. But then his eyes took stock of the way Kirishima’s room was neat. Too neat. He was a messy creature by habit and despite Bakugo’s need to clean, Kirishima’s mess was endearing. But it was gone and in front of him lay something so terribly un-Kirishima that it awoke something that knew this wasn’t right. On the table, under the only light in the room was a sealed letter. His eyes moved again, faster. One bottle. Two bottles. They were empty and unlabeled but there were pills in them at some point. He knew that much. 

Eijiro, what have you done?

“Eijiro,” Bakugo called again, his voice barely a whisper. “Eijiro please. I need you to step back.”

A low chuckle stumbled out of Kirishima’s lips. “You don’t need me. No one does.” His hair flowed in the wind. He hadn’t spiked it with a ridiculous amount of gel that morning and even then, Bakugo couldn’t help but notice that against the moonlight, Kirishima was beautiful.

“That’s not true,” Bakugo moved slowly, trying not to startle him. He just needed to get close enough to grab him. Close enough to touch him. To bring him back. He could fix this. He had to fix this. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Kirishima spoke. “You weren’t supposed to find me. No one was. I took too long again. Wasn’t fast enough. Wasn’t good enough. Not even for this.” He laughed. A dark, twisted laugh. One that would never come from the Kirishima he knew. “He was right. He was right all along.”

“I’m here now Ei,” Bakugo moved, each step feeling like his feet were stuck in glue and he was just too far away. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he sent a text to Tokoyami whose room was next door before tucking it away again. He never texted anyone. He hoped birdbrain had enough sense to know this was serious. He didn’t want to remember Eijiro for longer than he had known him. He couldn’t come to terms with that. He had to do something, anything. 

Kirishima turned his head then, a sickly sweet grin forming on his face. “I couldn’t save you,” he whispered. “Just like you can’t save me.”

“Ei what do you mean?” Bakugo took another step forward. He’d never understood what it meant to feel like you were in a movie until everything around him slowed. A breeze blew, pushing Kirishima’s hair back from his face. He smiled. One that was too happy. Too surreal. Too perfect. 

—---------------------------------

Bakugo would remember that night forever. For years to come, it would plague him night after night. The way his throat burned raw as he screamed for help. The way he scrambled towards the balcony, reaching but still too far out to grab him. The way Kirishima looked so at peace as he tipped off the balcony, head towards the sky, as his body convulsed and white liquid frothed from his mouth. He remembered a voice and someone pulling him away as he tried to dive after him. He remembered fighting and thrashing and yelling and screaming and then nothing. 

He would no longer have dreams about dying nor Edgeshot nor Shigaraki. No. Bakugo would be plagued in his dreams by the reality that he wasn’t fast enough to save his own best friend or good enough to see that he had been suffering all this time. It would play on loop, suffocating his every waking moment.

Chapter Text

Before I left home, Mom gave me the talk. Not THAT talk. She was worried one day I'd regret missing out on being an ordinary teenager. I told her point blank that there wasn't any choice, because who wants to be ordinary when you have the chance of becoming a pro-hero? But things change and you realize what’s more important. The thing with change though, is it’s incremental, tiny turning points you don’t even notice. Then, there are other events. Sudden and monumental. And in that split second when you throw the dice, it could go one way when you desperately want it to go another and it feels like your future is suspended in limbo. Do you beg? Wish? Pray? Threaten? Do you fight or let go? Is it only in limbo when you finally know yourself and what you’re capable of?

Lights flashed. They were bright. Too bright. Everything around Katsuki had trails of light that followed behind it. Blurs of motion as if time had been slowed. Something was constricting him, keeping him from where he needed to be. He could feel his chest begging for air and the ringing in his ears was different from the ringing he heard when he set an explosion off too close to his ears. 

Where was he? Where was Eijiro? Did he make it? Was he - oh god was he down there, on the floor? It’s not a far fall, he could…he could survive that right? 

“Bakugo.”

Why didn’t I see this? How long has … did he say something that I missed? How didn’t I know? Why didn’t I know?

“Bakugo.”

Did he really think he was unsaveable? Who…who didn’t think he was good enough? He’s always been good enough. For me. Too good. Perfect. He’s always been good enough for me. 

“BAKUGO!” His eyes focused and he turned his head, but even that movement felt like he was moving through murky waters trying to reach a completely unreachable surface. Aizawa was looking at him, tears in his own eyes. Standing to the side of him stood Tokoyami. He could see other feet in the background from where he stood which meant they knew. They knew and if Eijiro knew that they knew, it would make it worse. 

“They … they should go. They shouldn’t see…see him like that,” Katsuki whispered. “He wouldn’t want that. I don’t … I don’t want … he deserves …” he trailed off. Aizawa’s capture weapon was wrapped around him, and as much as he hated it, he felt safe wrapped in it. As if it was keeping the pain from spilling over.

“The ambulance is on its way,” Aizawa said, low enough for only him to hear. “Shoji was with Tokoyami when he got your text. They split up. Tokoyami came to you when they saw what was happening, knowing only Dark Shadow would be able to hold you back if it came to it.”

“Did…did Shoji?” Katsuki stared out at the balcony. The night air was frigid. He could feel it in his bones. 

“Shoji made the choice to jump off the balcony and grab Kirishima,” Aizawa’s gaze followed Katsuki’s to the balcony. “Said they’d been training, that if anything he could handle…he could handle… the f- , the fall” he choked up. 

Katsuki looked up at his teacher. There was something in his eyes that he had seen before on his own. A look that he saw on his own face every time he stared at the scar that marred his face every morning.  

Failure.

Aizawa thought he had failed. Katsuki grabbed his hand then. He was afraid. So afraid. And in that moment, Katsuki knew they both felt like they had failed Eijiro. 

—---------------------------------

“We should call his parents,” Shoji said. They were huddled together in the waiting room. In one corner sat Denki, Sero and Mina. In another, Shoji, Tokoyami, Aizawa and Katsuki. He held the letter in his hand, the one he had seen on the desk, still unread. 

“No,” Aizawa snapped. “The only family that he has is right here in this room.” 

Katsuki watched as Aizawa’s leg bounced up and down. He rarely moved this much. Katsuki didn’t know much about Aizawa, but he knew he had lost someone once. He wondered for a moment if it was like this, but now wasn’t the time for questions like that. 

“It was them, wasn’t it,” Shoji said then. He was mumbling to himself mostly, but Katsuki realized he too was putting pieces together that they had been missing. “They’re the ones that did this. That told him he wasn’t - that caused his panic attack.”

Aizawa slammed his hand on the vending machine next to him then stood, sprinting down the hallway. 

“I didn’t mean to…”

“Wasn’t you,” Katsuki slumped in his chair, pulling the hood of the hoodie he stole from Eijiro’s closet over his head. “I think he just confirmed that you were right.”

“How did we miss this?” Shoji’s arms wrapped around himself. 

Katsuki didn’t have an answer for that. He didn’t know either. He didn’t know how he fell asleep night after night in Eijiro’s arms without realizing he was breaking inside. Eijiro always had a smile on his face. Eijiro was the first one to remember birthdays and favorite foods and to see that you were having a bad day but no one had seen that Eijiro was having a bad life. 

Bakugo stood, the need to move, to do something shifted inside of him. 

“Where are you going?” Shoji looked up at him. Bakugo knew he should stay, that he shouldn’t leave Shoji of all people. Shoji jumped off the balcony for Eijiro. Shoji’s back was covered in scrapes and bruises from breaking the fall and had a cast on two of his arms. Shoji who still seemed shocked that he had held a convulsing Eijiro in his arms and kept him steady until the ambulance arrived. But if Bakugo stayed, he’d have to think about how he made the mistake of looking over the balcony. Of how he would never be able to get the images of that night out of his head. 

Bakugo stepped out into the frigid night air, tugging on the strings of the hoodie. It felt unimaginable that there were people outside, going on with their lives when he was unsure if Eijiro would see another day of his own. He kicked at gravel as he looked up at the dark sky. Someone had redacted the moon, as if all the brightness in the sky was also in mourning. The clouds rolled in like ink spilling over white paper, plunging the world into darkness. He tucked his hands into his pockets, about to turn around when a clanging and a crash caught his attention. He spun on his heel, instinct taking over. He’d heard a whimper and he wasn’t sure if someone was in trouble, but he wasn’t about to pass on the opportunity to bash someone’s head in to get some of his emotions out. He picked up the pace, hitting a light jog, turning into an alley corner when his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he stopped. 

Mr. Aizawa’s palms were flat against the wall, his head hung low. With a swift turn, Bakugo watched as he slammed his fist into the trash can, again and again. Then he turned, gasping for air and releasing a yell that pulled something Bakugo didn’t know existed inside of him to the surface, before slamming his fist into the brick wall. Bakugo wanted to move, wanted to grab his teacher, pull him away from the wall, but he’d never seen him like this - helpless and in pain. Thunder rumbled in the distance and Bakugo pulled his hood down, something snapping in his chest as he walked down the alley. Mr. Aizawa paused, glancing out the corner of his eye. 

“Don’t,” he rasped. 

“Not here to stop you,” Bakugo answered, taking a deep breath before slamming his own fist into the side of the giant dumpster. He gasped at the way his anger and sadness rose to the surface, hot tears starting to spill from his eyes. So he hit it again, and again, and again. Mr. Aizawa joined him, the two of them, hurt wolves howling into the night over their wounded pack member. 

—---------------------------------

Bakugo and Mr. Aizawa sat on the grass outside the hospital, knuckles bloodied and bruised. Bakugo watched as his teacher walked to his car, grabbed a first aid kit and brought it to him. He winced as Mr. Aizawa poured peroxide over the open wounds, then wrapped them in gauze before doing the same to his own. They sat there in silence for a long while before Mr. Aizawa spoke. 

“He came to me,” Aizawa said. “He cried when I told him I was proud of him, said that no one had ever told him that before.”

Bakugo looked away, recalling every time he had felt proud of Eijiro but never voiced it. 

“What kind of monsters raise a child and … and do that,” Mr. Aizawa whispered. “How do you give birth to the sun, only to snuff it out the minute it learns to shine?”

Bakugo didn’t have an answer for that. He wanted his parents to pay, to know what it felt like to have their lives ruined the way they had ruined Eijiro’s. 

“I should have known,” Bakugo looked up at the clouds that threatened to spill over. “He spent every night protecting me from my own nightmares and I couldn’t see that he was living one.”

He could feel Aizawa’s eyes on him then. “How can you say you love someone, if you can’t see the pain that they’re going through right in front of you?” Bakugo felt the tears in his eyes threaten to escape again. “How can I say I love him?”

Aizawa stared for a moment, eyes furrowed. He grabbed Bakugo then, pulling him in. It had started to drizzle, the rain falling slowly around them. 

“If he survives…,” Bakugo whispered, grasping onto Mr. Aizawa’s shirt. “What if he’s never the same?”

“No one comes back from something like this the same as they were,” Aizawa’s chin was pressed into the top of Bakugo’s head. “Can you genuinely say that you’ve been the same person since Edgeshot saved your life?”

“Since I died,” Bakugo spat back. Because that was what had happened. There was no reason to sugarcoat it anymore.

Aizawa chuckled. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Since you died.”

There was something in his tone that made Bakugo release the tension in his shoulders. “I guess not.”

“Then it’s quite possible that Kirishima’s not going to be the same either. Won’t change how you feel about him.”

“Might change how he feels about me,” Bakugo answered. 

“He never expected you to save him Bakugo.”

“No,” Bakugo answered. “I don’t think he wanted any of us to. But that’s what we train for. To save people, even those that don’t think they deserve to be saved.”

“Some of us hide it better than others,” Aizawa said. “I know what it feels like to not have been quick enough to save someone Bakugo. You’re not alone in this. We’ve all got you, and Kirishima has all of us.”

The rain poured down and Aizawa pulled away from Bakugo, keeping his hands firm on his shoulders to confirm he was okay standing on his own. He’d done that more and more since the first war, and at first Bakugo had hated it. He didn’t want the help. But eventually, he realized that it wasn’t that Aizawa thought he needed it, it was that he did to reassure Bakugo that he’d always be there supporting him. 

Aizawa turned then, nodding towards the hospital door where Shoji stood. 

“He’s not going to be okay after this,” Bakugo said, as they walked back towards the hospital. “I wouldn't be,” he paused. “Not if I was that close.”

“He’s already called Dr. Bleu and scheduled an appointment,” Mr. Aizawa answered. “He’s stronger than we’ve given him credit for all these years. He’s started to learn to admit when he needs help.”

Bakugo nodded, pulling the hospital door open and flinching as the cold hospital air hit his soaking wet clothes. He looked up, to see Shoji’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“What?”

“The doctor,” Shoji said. “He has news.”

Chapter Text

Eijiro was in the hospital for 51 days and on each of those days, Bakugo, Shoji, and Aizawa were there like clockwork. The nursing staff knew them by name, often bringing in extra blankets and food. Despite Shoji saving him from colliding with the ground, Eijiro still suffered 3 strokes, went into cardiac arrest once, and had a high fever for 12 of those days. Bakugo watched, jaw squared to hold back the tears he could feel brewing as they intubated him. He had aspiration pneumonia and needed help breathing. And even now, as they were finally releasing him from the hospital, Bakugo couldn’t help but wonder if Eijiro hated him for not seeing that he was in pain. 

“He’s going to need someone with him around the clock for the next two weeks to ensure he’s taking his medication,” the doctor said, glancing between Aizawa and Bakugo. “We’re also suggesting that he continues therapy.”

Bakugo watched as Aizawa nodded. Eijiro had a grin on his face that was slightly lopsided, a result of the strokes. He’d done physical therapy and had revived full mobility of his hands and his right leg again, and had gone through speech therapy to help him work through the slur he’d had for a moment. 

“Are you sure you’d like to return to UA Eijiro?” The doctor glanced at him. 

Eijiro’s smile widened. “I can only come back from this stronger than ever,” he grinned. The doctor smiled, nodding.

“Good to see you be so hopeful kid,” the doctor patted his hand. “You had me worried for a while.”

As Aizawa filled out the paperwork, Bakugo leaned against the door watching the facade fade away. Eijiro was lying through his teeth. 

---------------------------------

The return to UA was eventful. Everyone pulled out all the stops to throw a big welcome party for Eijiro. He’d stood in a corner with Aizawa watching as his classmates wheeled him around, surrounding him with love and happiness when Shoji walked up to him.

“He’s not happy to be here,” Shoji said matter-of-factly. 

Aizawa glanced over as he folded his arms. “No, he’s not.”

“He lied to the doctor,” Bakugo answered. “The smile he gave…it’s the one I saw before he…” Bakugo trailed off. 

“He has an appointment to see Dr. Bleu tomorrow morning, and then three times a week following that,” Aizawa answered. “But I’m afraid even that won’t be enough. He fooled her once, I’m afraid he’ll be able to do it again.”

“What do you mean?” Bakugo looked over at him. 

“It’s something to do with her quirk, isn’t it?” Shoji leaned against the wall next to Aizawa. 

He nodded. “I can’t talk about it with you all, but yes. He managed to convince her that all was well, that he was better.”

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed, his voice lowered. “She can sense emotions in some way.”

Aizawa glanced over, then turned his eyes back to Eijiro. 

“Tch,” Bakugo scoffed. “Sounds like you need a new counselor.”

Aizawa only shook his head, so Bakugo dropped it. 

“What do we do?” Shoji asked. “I don’t think he’s convinced that he’s worthy of a second chance at life, and if he can fool this counselor, who’s to say he can’t fool us too.”

Bakugo didn’t understand the difference between wanting to die and wanting to sink for a while. He’d assumed they were the same. He’d died. He knew the nothingness that came with death. The silence that filled your ears as your heart stopped beating and your lungs gave their last effort. And even then, that silence was loud in comparison to the static thought that he was going to lose Eijiro forever. There was no fooling him anymore. He’d spent 51 days analyzing each and every moment with Eijiro, picking up on the signs and tells and facial expressions he’d missed. The thing about hero training - it never left you. It was ingrained in you, waiting for use in each and every situation. 

“He won’t,” Aizawa and Bakugo said simultaneously, the two glancing at each other. Bakugo nodded in understanding. Aizawa had been doing the same. It was clear on his face. 

Shoji sighed, pushing himself off the wall. “You know where to find me if you need my help.”

Bakugo watched as Eijiro was moved from classmate to classmate before Shoji stepped in, a soft smile on his face as he advised them to give him some breathing space. Eijiro’s tightened shoulders loosened as Shoji pulled him back from the crowd and he bent down, whispering something to him. Eijiro laughed, his eyes looking over to Bakugo. He wanted to smile, to offer some reassurance, but there was a part of Bakugo that was angry. Angry that Eijiro felt that he still needed to lie. Angry that there was a part of him that Eijiro didn’t trust to tell how he felt, despite the nights that he’d spent opening up to him. Instead, he nodded, watching as Eijiro’s eyebrows furrowed before turning back to Shoji. 

--------------------------------

It was almost 9 pm when Aizawa and Bakugo got Eijiro to his room. He’d already gotten the explanation at the hospital that for the next three weeks, the three of them would alternate sleeping in his room to ensure he was okay. They were in the process of shifting a few things around when a soft knock rapped against the door. Bakugo glanced at Aizawa who sighed, opening it. 

“Hey,” Kaminari and Sero poked their heads in. “Mind if we crash this party for a moment?”

“Five minutes,” Aizawa answered.

Kaminari flopped onto Eijiro’s bed without question while Sero tucked himself next to the bed, right below Eijiro. Bakugo watched as Sero threw a pack of Strawberry Daifuku up at Eijiro.

“I know you can’t eat all the snacks you want to right now, but these are soft enough that they won’t bother you,” Sero smiled. He glanced over at Aizawa who only shrugged as he continued to move around the room. 

“Look,” Sero sighed. “Denki and I didn’t just come in here to check on Eij, we know that you three have been helping out around the clock and we want to help. Put us on the schedule and tells us what to do and we’ll do it, even if you need to put me on the schedule with Denks to make sure it actually gets done.”

“That’s not necessary,” Aizawa started when Sero stood. 

“Look,” he ran a hand through his hair. “Eventually, no matter how much he’s going to deny it,” Sero looked at Eijiro, a grin forming on his face. “He’s going to get tired of your perma-grumpy face, and your stellar attitude Blasty. We’ve always been a team, that doesn’t stop now. None of you workaholics have to do this alone.”

“Plus,” Denki leaned on Eijiro. “I haven’t kicked his ass in Smash in a couple of months.”

Eijiro chuckled at that, a sound Bakugo hadn’t heard in a while. He paused for a moment at the way his heart thudded against his chest, fluttering as Eijiro said something to Denki that made him laugh. 

“Fine,” Aizawa answered. “But only if it’s okay with Kirishima.”

“Do I really have an option here?”

Aizawa groaned. “You always have a choice, Kirishima.”

Eijiro flinched at the inflection in Aizawa’s voice, glancing over at Bakugo who looked away as he finished moving a box of games to the corner of the room.

“Sweet!” Denki grinned. “I want first shift, and boy do I have shit to tell you.”

Aizawa glanced at Bakugo who shrugged. 

“Fine,” Aizawa answered. “But we have some things to go over first. Both of you walk with me.”

“Ugh,” Denki grumbled. “You just had to ruin a moment old man.”

Aizawa, who was already moving, paused, turning his head slightly when Denki sprung up. “Sorry, sorry, on my way boss!”

Shoji followed behind, leaving Bakugo and a conscious Eijiro alone for the first time in 51 days. 

-------------------------------

“You hate me, don’t you?”

Bakugo glanced up at ruby eyes that seemed to be looking for something they couldn’t find. He sighed, walking towards Eijiro, about to sit down on his bed when he changed course and leaned against his desk instead. 

“I don’t hate you Ei,” Bakugo grunted. 

“You won’t even look at me for longer than a second.” He picked at the skin around his fingers. In the last few months, Eijiro’s hair had grown down his back, the dark rooms forming a stunning blend of black and red as some sections took longer to grow out than others. They didn’t allow anyone to do anything but comb it at the hospital. At first, it had pissed Bakugo off - but now, he couldn’t imagine Eijiro with anything other than long hair. 

Bakugo glanced at the balcony, his voice low. “Because every time I look at you, I see you falling out of my grasp. I see my own failure.”

“What?”

“You spent months listening to me cry, and I couldn’t see that everything that could possibly go wrong was going on with you. And when it finally clicked, I was too slow to save you,” Bakugo furiously rubbed at the tears that were forming in his eyes. 

“That wasn’t your fault,” Eijiro whispered. 

“Yeah,” Bakugo looked up at him. “It was. I get it now. I get how you felt after you saw me die, because every night, every time I close my eyes, I relive the moment that I was unable to save the one person I fell in love with.”

Eijiro blanched as the door swung up and Denki bounded onto the bed. “Game Time!”

Bakugo stumbled out the door, gasping for air as a sturdy arm wrapped around him, pulling him to his room. 

“Took you longer than I expected for you to admit that,” Aizawa chuckled. 

Bakugo grunted. “I shouldn’t have, he’ll only feel like he has to…”

“You can’t force someone to reciprocate something they already feel kid,” Aizawa said. “And if I’m being honest, there are a lot of reckless things we can say to Kirishima right now, but that… that’s not one of them. If anything, the admission of love might be something he’s never explicitly heard in his life Bakugo. It might be exactly what he needs.”

The problem was, Bakugo wasn’t quite sure if Aizawa was correct. The feeling that churned in Bakugo’s chest for Eijiro confused him. The possibility of ever loving someone so completely that they filled up the holes inside your chest was foreign to him. And in that moment, those holes were wide open, worried that loving Eijiro would only leave him empty again. Bakugo had never felt the desperate longing he felt for someone until he’d met Eijiro who was all smiles and sunshine and everything Bakugo had run from his entire life. But with Eijiro, there was mutual respect and understanding. Atleast, until he’d decided that Bakugo couldn’t be trusted to share in his pain the way that Bakugo trusted him with his own. 

Bakugo, who had pushed himself out of Aizawa’s arms, started to sob then. A deep guttural sob that threatened to pull him apart at the seams.  He didn’t move away as Aizawa tucked him into his arms and sank down to the floor with him. 

“It hurts,” Bakugo gasped through tears.

“What hurts?”

“Loving him,” Bakugo answered. “It hurts.”

“Want to know a secret?”

Bakugo didn’t respond.

“Someone told me a long time ago that love is friendship on fire. Fire blazes but it also burns Bakugo.”

“You can’t put out a fire that has long blazed out of control,” Bakugo whispered.

Aizawa chuckled. “I imagine someone said that about you once, but look at you now. Even the strongest flames can be calmed.”

“What happens if they burn out?”

Aizawa sighed. “You’ll have to figure that one out kid, although you’ve never been the type to burn out.”

“You survive death once and now you’re a fucking metaphor,” Bakugo grumbled as he felt Aizawa’s chuckle. 

“There he is.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” Bakugo answered. “This, this hurts more than anything. More than death itself. I don’t know if I can survive a second time Aizawa.”

They sat in silence then, Aizawa leaning his head against Bakugo’s bed as he sniffled and fell asleep slowly. When he finally managed to tuck him in, Aizawa opened the door to find Shoji waiting.

“How much of that did you hear?”

Shoji glanced up at him. “It was inevitable that he’d burn out.”

“I don’t think he has,” Aizawa answered. “Just give him time.”

Shoji sighed. “For the biggest cynic I know, you’re too optimistic right now. If Bakugo gives up on him, there’s nothing any of us can do to save him Aizawa. I hope you know that.” 

Shoji turned towards his room, leaving Aizawa with a realization that he’d refused to acknowledge until now.

Chapter Text

“AAHH!”

Bakugo yelled, jumping out of his bed, palms crackling. Denki lay in his bed next to him, his Nintendo Switch in hand, looking particularly comfortable.

“What the fuck Dunce Face?!”

“Morning Bakubro,” Denki glanced over at him, completely unbothered by the fact that his death could be imminent. “We have things to talk about.”

“I don’t got shit to say to you right now,” Bakugo grumbled. “Get out my room.”

Denki didn’t move, the sound of an axe hitting a tree, and the slight jump Denki made cluing Bakugo in to what game he was playing. “So…… you love him.”

“Nope,” Bakugo stalked towards him, lifting him over his shoulder. “Nope, nope, nope. Not doing this. Not with you, or any of you extras.” 

Denki surprisingly didn’t squirm as Bakugo opened his door and unceremoniously dropped him, he only stared up at him with a shit eating grin on his face. 

“You didn’t deny it,” Denki said. “In fact, you said, “ I’m not doing this” which means I’m right isn’t it?”

Bakugo ground his teeth, looking both ways down the hallway before yanking the idiot back into his room.  “You know I hate you right now right?”

“You say you hate me all the time, I’m unphased Bakubro.”

“What do you want, Denki?” Bakugo flopped onto his bed. “Speak fast before I change my mind and shove you out the window this time.”

Denki put the game down, staring at Bakugo for a moment, head tilted. “You said, ‘ I was unable to save the one person I fell in love with’ and I’m … I’m worried.”

“About your eavesdropping habits?”

“About the fact that I’m not sure if you meant that in past tense, or if you still feel that way.”

Bakugo looked up, feeling blindsided. Denki was always more attentive than he let on, but the minute details still often slipped past him.

“What does that have to do with you?”

Denki’s eyes narrowed as he got up off the floor and sat on the bed next to Bakugo, a huff escaping his lips. “What does it have to do with me?” Denki laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Last night, after you dropped that bomb and left, no matter what Sero and I did to distract him, I watched my best friend almost bite the skin around his nails raw. I get that you don’t tiptoe around anyone, but it would do you some good to atleast watch what you say around the person that jumped off their balcony. The person I’m not too sure if you love, or you think you love. Either way, I hope you figure it out before you see him again.”

Bakugo blinked as Denki sat back on the floor, and the soft mumbling of Timmy and Tommy filled his room again. 

“I didn’t know how else to explain why I couldn’t… look at him,” Bakugo said softly. “Lying to him… finding an excuse, it all just.. it felt pointless. 

Denki’s silence was louder than the soft music in Nook’s Cranny.  

“I wanted to tell him before…but every time I built up the courage I got scared. I just, I needed him to know,” Bakugo sighed. “I didn’t want to lie to him anymore.”

“You better know what you’re doing Katsuki,” Denki stood, turning his head but not looking at Bakugo. “You’re the thread keeping him alive now, whether you realize it or not. Your actions affect him more than the rest of us, and while that may be a lot to put on you - you just put an entire world of new emotions on someone still trying to balance everything going on in their own head.”

Bakugo stared down at his fingers,  pausing for a moment to consider what to say when his door slammed shut. 

-------------------------------

Eijiro stared at the walls of Dr. Bleu’s office, doing everything he could to avoid eye contact with the person he had lied to for months about how he was doing better. He felt bad. But he couldn’t take it back now. 

“Kirishima,” Dr. Bleu called his name softly. “I don’t hate you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not mad. In fact, I’m glad you’re still here with us.”

Eijiro brought his fingertip up to his mouth when he remembered there was no more skin to bite. He sighed, eyes glancing over at the window. “I’m not,” he finally answered. There was no use in pretending anymore. If he lied, they’d know. Even if he wasn’t lying, they probably didn’t trust him anymore. At least being brutally honest meant they wouldn’t question him.

“Can I ask why?”

“Because I failed,” he shrugged. “My dad was right, I can’t do anything properly.”

“Why does failure scare you so much Kirishima?”

He scoffed. “You’re telling me you aren’t afraid of failing? Of letting everyone around you down? In this field of work, you can’t fail. Failure costs you your life.”

“And saved yours.”

“It wasn’t worth it,” Eijiro sank into the chair. “Because now everything is worse. Everyone tiptoes around me, putting on fake smiles and watching me like a hawk.”

“Because they’re worried about you.”

“Because they don’t trust me.”

Dr. Bleu hummed. A part of him wanted to look and see if disappointment was sitting on her face, but he wasn’t quite sure he could handle that. Not yet at least. 

“I have a feeling there’s at least one person in your life that isn’t tiptoeing around you,” Dr. Bleu said. Eijiro glanced up then, hearing a smile in her voice. 

“What are you talking about?”

“You always told me the one person in your life that never sugar coated anything was Bakugo, I get the feeling he isn’t doing that now either.”

Eijiro glanced down at his hands, the memory of Bakugo’s face as he told him that he had fallen in love with him branded into his memory. 

“He’s delusional,” Eijiro mumbled. 

“Why?”

“Because he said he’s in love with me.”

“Why does that make him delusional?”

“People don’t love me,” Eijiro said matter-of-factly. “My parents didn’t love me. My family didn’t love me. I don’t even like me.”

“That doesn’t make you unlovable.”

“Maybe,” Eijiro answered. “But watching me drop off a balcony does.”

“I have to disagree,” Dr. Bleu said. “I think you’re afraid that Bakugo is only saying this because he thought he was going to lose you, and I can see why you would think that. But, the one thing you’ve been consistent in reminding me, is that Bakugo never says anything he doesn’t mean. Why would this be the thing he suddenly doesn’t mean Kirishima?”

Eijiro didn’t have an answer for that. He remembered hearing Bakugo’s voice while he was in the hospital. Remembered his hand reaching for him as he fell. Remembered how Bakugo said that no matter what, he couldn’t forget what it felt like to watch him fall. 

“Kirishima,” Dr. Bleu called, but he was too far away. His leg started bouncing as his mind raced, considering every time he had hurt Bakugo, the one person that had always had his back. He could feel the rest of his body shake, as if he was trying to vibrate out of his own skin into someone new. Someone that hadn’t let the people around him down. Someone that hadn’t let Bakugo down. “Hey, Kirishima, I’m here.”

He stood then, hot tears pouring down his face as he turned and raced out of Dr. Bleu’s office for the second time in a few months. He didn’t make it far this time, as sturdy arms grabbed him and pulled him close. Eijiro screamed, thrashing and fighting as he tried to get away from whoever was holding him captive. 

“Get off me,” he gasped. “Just let me go, let me die.” Eijiro sobbed, doubling over. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I’m tired. I'm so fucking tired.”

“I know,” Mr. Aizawa’s voice was in his ear, and part of him, the part that was sitting in the corner of his mind watching this breakdown, felt a level of shame to know that Mr. Aizawa was seeing him like this. “I know Kirishima.” Tight arms pulled him close. 

“I don’t deserve it,” Eijiro choked. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Deserve what?”

“His love,” he said. “I - I can’t.” 

Eijiro shoved Aizawa then, feeling the protein shake Denki had nudged him to drink that moment, making its way up his throat again. He wretched once, then doubled over as it poured out of him. Cold sweat covered his body as vomit pooled on the ground in front of him. His stomach clenched, angry that the only meal it had was no longer there. A palm was on his back, presumably Aizawa’s, but other eyes were on him, eyes that were watching. 

He looked up, tears still falling to see Bakugo staring back at him from the other end of the hallway. If he didn’t know him, he’d say that the slightly hitched breathing was anger. But this time, it wasn’t. He watched as Bakugo wiped at his eyes and seemingly take a step forward. But there was a pause. One that someone who wasn’t used to Bakugo’s most minute movements would miss. But Eijiro didn’t. And in that pause, Bakugo spun on his heel, pulling his backpack close to him as he walked in the other direction. 

“It’s not you,” Aizawa said, pulling him close. But Eijiro didn’t believe that. “He’s got a lot he’s working through and seeing you in pain…he still blames himself.”

Eijiro wanted to say that that meant that in a way, it was still his fault. But he couldn’t deny the comfort Aizawa probably felt telling him that. So he nodded, letting his teacher pull him up. 

“Can I go back to my dorm?”

Aizawa nodded. “I’ll walk with you.”

He flinched, realizing this would be his life for a while. Being walked everywhere, being watched. Aizawa must have been waiting outside the office in case he ran. There was no freedom for Eijiro. No moment to breathe. He was trapped again, with no foreseeable way to escape.

Chapter Text

Shoji had been standing outside his classroom, waiting to meet with Present Mic about an assignment when he saw Kirishima bolt out of the ‘therapy room’ as they had all dubbed it. He’d had reservations about running after him. Sometimes people just needed space. But something was off, and as he finally convinced himself to move, a blur sped past him. 

He’d always known Aizawa was fast. He’d seen him in action one too many times over the years, and even with a prosthetic leg, he had managed to maintain not only his speed, but also his strength. He watched as Aizawa had caught up to him, wrapping his arm around and pulling him close. The way Kirishima screamed and sobbed hit Shoji in his chest. In all his years, he’d only ever known the version of Kirishima that was happy and made sure those around him were also happy, so seeing him this way for so long, seeing that he was truly in pain and had been in pain for this long - Shoji wasn’t quite sure how to process it. He just knew he wanted to be there for him. 

Shoji flinched as Kirishima yelled out, “Just let me go!” His screams echoing down the hallway. “ Please, please just let me die, I don’t want this. I don’t want this anymore.”

There was a point where Shoji was sure he had blacked out. Even in his state, Kirishima wouldn’t have said the things he was saying. They were too vulnerable. Too close to the truth that he’d hidden away for so long. 

Thankfully, this hallway was one that was particularly empty. The only person that had a class along here regularly was Present Mic. On the other end of the hallway was an empty classroom that people often studied in - a free period empty room if you could call it that. Shoji heard the door open and froze, worried that someone that Kirishima wasn’t familiar with would see him in this state. The problem was, Shoji knew the footsteps that moved, the swift but purposeful movements that his ears picked up. He stared, jaw squared as Bakugo stepped out the classroom, eyes widening only slightly as he took in the scene. To any outsider, the slight widening of his eyes would seem nonchalant. But Shoji knew what emotion looked like on Bakugo. True emotion. Not the loud outbursts of anger that he showed to his classmates and people that didn’t really know him. He was holding himself back as best as he could.

“I don’t deserve it,” Eijiro choked. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Deserve what?”

“His love,” he said. “I - I can’t.” 

Shoji paused, eyes bouncing between Kirishima and Bakugo. Despite the state he was in, Shoji knew that Kirishima had a Bakugo radar. No matter where the other was, they always seemed to be in tune with one another. Bakugo could enter a room completely silent and Kirishima’s head would swivel almost immediately as if he could sense the other. 

As if on cue, Kirishima’s head shot up, eyes watching as Bakugo pulled the classroom door shut. The air in the room stilled as he watched Bakugo wipe the rising tears in his eyes away. Shoji watched as Bakugo shifted, as if he was trying to push his body weight forward, begging almost, before turning on his heel. He shook his head. Just a few nights earlier, he had told Aizawa that if Bakugo gave up on Kirishima, there wasn’t enough love or care or doting that any of them could give Kirishima. He would be gone. 

Shoji watched as Aizawa pulled Kirishima close, lulling him to a calm - but Kirishima was long there, his mind blanking out as he watched the person who said they loved him, running away from him at one of his lowest moments. He listened as Aizawa told him he’d walk him back to the dorm and saw the way Kirishima’s face fell. Shoji could only imagine what he must be feeling. Since the moment he came back from the hospital, all eyes were on him. Kaminari and Sero were sleeping on his floor, Aizawa had someone assigned to walk him to and from class - he was sure Kirishima simply felt overwhelmed and wanted a moment to himself to breathe. He knew he would. 

“Mr. Aizawa,” Shoji stepped forward. “I can take him - I’m heading to the dorms, Present Mic seems pretty busy and I’ve been waiting for a while.”

Aizawa eyed him for a moment, his eyes taking in the scene and realizing that Shoji had indeed witnessed everything that just happened. 

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Shoji smiled. “I’ve got him - at least, if he’s okay with it?”

Kirishima looked up at him, his eyebrows furrowed. “You say that like I have a choice.”

“Because you do,” Shoji shrugged. “At least with me.”

He watched as Kirishima’s eyes travelled between Aizawa and his before nodding. “I’ll go with you.”

Shoji reached out, helping to his feet. 

“Let me know if you got in safe?” Aizawa shifted on the balls of his feet, staring as if he wanted to wrap Kirishima in bubble wrap. 

Shoji nodded, placing a hand on Kirishima’s back for a moment as they walked across the campus. Kirishima shuffled, his head hung low, hair dangling in his face. His roots had grown out, black blending into red. 

“Hey,” Shoji looked over at him. “I … I know it’s been a while. Do you want me to run to the store, get you some hair dye? I know Aizawa’s been super strict with you so you might not have…”

Kirishima looked over, and for a moment Shoji saw a small spark. “You’d do that?”

He nodded, the side of his mouth lifting slightly. Kirishima nodded, ducking his head as he tucked a hair behind his ear. 

“Look,” Shoji glanced behind them, seeing that Aizawa was long gone. “How about we make a deal - I let you get some time to yourself and walk home alone so you can have some peace and quiet, and I go get that hair dye of yours.”

“How’s that a deal?”

“It’s not, I just know you probably feel really overwhelmed - but I trust you Kirishima. And quite frankly, you look exhausted. The only thing you probably want right now is your bed.”

Kirishima sighed, nodding. “That obvious?”

“A little,” Shoji smirked. “Just text me when you get in so I can keep Aizawa from panicking.”

It was as if Kirishima seemed a little happier in that moment, despite everything that happened earlier. Shoji watched him pull his backpack tight against him, a soft smile growing as he glanced over. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

Shoji smiled. “Anytime you need an escape, you can call me. I meant it when I said I got you.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Shoji raised an eyebrow, then nodded. 

“How did you manage? I mean - you grew up with people watching you constantly because of how you looked, eyes always on you. How did … how did you manage it? Because I’m not.”

Shoji chuckled then. “I didn’t, it was so hard - coming to UA was the first time I felt … at home. People weren’t afraid of me anymore. Not the way people were back home. But even then, I’m afraid of what I’ll have to face when I graduate, because people will still be afraid of me, hero status and all.”

“I’m sorry,” Kirishima sighed. 

“No need,” Shoji nudged him. “They care about you, and they’re worried about you and I think they’re more afraid than you realize - which is why they’re doing way too much. You just have to give them a bit of time. I have a feeling they’ll ease up.”

Kirishima nodded. 

“Anything you want from the store?”

“....Mochi,” Kirishima said softly. “Strawberry mochi.”

“When I get back, we’ll go ahead and dye that hair of yours.”

Kirishima nodded. “I’ll text you when I get in, see you in a bit.”

Shoji watched for a moment, before turning in the opposite direction towards the car when his phone rang. He stared down at it, seeing Aizawa’s number pop up. 

“He’s fine,” Shoji answered. 

“You didn’t walk him to his dorm,” Aizawa said matter of factly.

Shoji sighed. “Do you know why he’s not getting better? Why he seems to be getting worse? Because he doesn’t ever have a single moment to breathe. When he wakes up someone is there. When he goes to bed, someone is there. When he cries, someone is overwhelming him, handing him tissues and telling him it will be okay. But we don’t know that it will. It’s hard to have eyes on you all the time, no matter how well meaning they are.”

“You done?” Aizawa sighed.

“No,” Shoji turned around, staring in the direction of the building he was pretty sure Aizawa was in. “I’m going to the store to grab him hair dye and mochi because he said it’s all he’s wanted but he’s been too afraid to ask.” He was definitely pushing the limits, but a little lie to make them feel bad and give him some space wouldn’t hurt. “And,” Shoji glanced at his phone. “He just texted me that he’s currently flopped in bed but that he left the door open for when I get back.”

“Have we really been that bad?” Aizawa asked.

“Yeah,” Shoji sighed. “You have, he’s overwhelmed Mr. Aizawa. We’re not making it any better.”

“I’m just - I’m worried Shoji.”

“I am too,” Shoji sighed. “But I think we have to give him the space to figure out why he wants to live. We can help give him reasons too - but the why? We can’t force than on him Mr. Aizawa.”

“When did you get so wise, Shoji?”

“We don’t have enough hours in the day to dive into that one,” Shoji chuckled. “I promise I’m keeping an eye out for him Mr. Aizawa. We’re all a team remember.”

“Thank you Shoji.”

“I’ll text you when I get in,” Shoji said, hanging up the phone and heading towards the store. 

***********

Bakugo gasped as he burst through the back doors of the hallway, wiping tears from his face. Hearing Eijiro say he didn’t deserve his love, he found himself thinking that maybe Shoji was right. Maybe he had actually messed up telling Eijiro he loved him. 

He hadn’t meant to cause him pain, hadn’t meant to hurt him. He just wanted to be honest because it seemed no one else was. Everyone was stepping around him, treating him differently. 

Bakugo paused, his breath hitching as he realized he was doing the same thing. He had been tiptoing around Eijiro. He had been treating him differently. 

“ FUCKKK” he yelled, chucking his bag. He kicked at a trash can, punting it into the air and spun fist in place to punch the wall when a cloth wrapped around his wrist, yanking him backwards. 

“Is there a reason both of you are choosing to keep me busy today?” Aizawa stared at him, eyes blank as he released his capture weapon. 

“Piss off,” Bakugo mumbled, sinking to the floor. 

Aizawa sat next to him, but said nothing, letting Bakugo simmer for a moment. In the last few months, as much as he hated to admit it, Aizawa seemed to understand him more than anyone. He saw him, finally and Bakugo hated that, hated being perceived. 

“What happened?” Bakugo asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

“Not sure,” Aizawa sighed. “I got a call from Dr. Bleu that he had bolted from therapy, but I don't know exactly what happened there. I just know what I’m sure you saw…and heard.”

“Yeah,” Bakugo answered, sitting on his hands so he wouldn’t pick at his fingernails. “Maybe I was wrong.”

“About what?”

“About telling him how I felt,” Bakugo said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I disagree,” Aizawa leaned his head against the wall, looking up at the sky. “I think ….” he paused, eyebrow furrowing. “I think he needs to know he’s loved. I think he’s always know you love him, the same way you’ve always known he loves you. Hearing it though - well it’s different when you’ve never had it explicitly expressed.”

Bakugo hummed.

“I think I was wrong though,” Aizawa looked over at Bakugo. “I think we’ve placed unrealistic expectations on your shoulders for too long Bakugo. I know you’re strong, we all do. But what happened to Kirishima, it wasn’t your fault. In a way you two are similar. Kirishima blamed himself for your death. He told us that if he was faster, a better hero, he wouldn’t have had to watch you die. But none of this falls on either of you.”

Bakugo spun, the severity of what Aizawa was saying sitting in his chest. “He thought…he blamed himself for Shigaraki killing me?”

Aizawa nodded. 

He gasped, hand flying to his mouth. “The day on his balcony, he said “ I took too long again. Wasn’t fast enough. Wasn’t good enough. He was talking about me. About my…”

Bakugo looked at Aizawa through blurred, tear filled eyes to find tears falling down his mentors eyes as well. 

“C’mere kid,” Aizawa’s arm shifted and Bakugo fell against his chest, sobbing. “I don’t know if it’ll be okay, but I’m here,” Aizawa whispered, his chin against Bakugo’s head. “I’m here.”

Chapter Text

Eijiro sat against his wall, controller in hand as he played Mario Kart online with Sero and Kaminari. The two had shown up at his door, game in hand but he had asked them to give him some space for a few hours. After a few questions and a quick call from Shoji confirming that Aizawa was alright with him being alone, the two had scurried away, still intent on playing the game with him. He’d chuckled, happy that he could play the game in his own room, in silence. 

He hadn’t expected Shoji to be his saving grace. To be quite honest, he found himself realizing that before their last few interactions, he and Shoji had only interacted a few times over the last few years, mostly during the harder parts of the war and the few times they ended up as sparring partners in training. Shoji was always quiet, keeping to himself mostly. However, in the last year he had gotten more confident, more trusting of his classmates as he walked around without the scarf covering his face anymore. The only time Eijiro saw him wear it was when he was heading to his work study. He thought for a moment about what it must be like for people to be afraid of the hero saving their life, at the way children must perceive his sharp teeth and wide arms. Eijiro blanched suddenly, veering off the track they were on in the game as his brain reminded him that Shoji was the one that caught him when he took his nose dive off the balcony. Of Shoji’s arms wrapping around him. He remembered.

A soft knock made him jump, and he dropped the controller to the floor. 

“Denki, I’m fine,” Eijiro sighed, walking towards the door. 

“It’s me, Shoji,” his soft voice came through the wall. Eijiro pulled the door open to find Shoji holding up a few bags of things. With a smile, Eijiro shifted, letting Shoji in when his phone rang. He glanced at it, realizing he had suddenly stopped playing the game. 

“I’m fine Denki,” Eijiro answered the phone.

“Dude, you zoomed off the course and then stopped moving,” Denki sputtered. “I needed to check, I just didn’t want to barge in.”

“I appreciate you calling first,” Eijiro chuckled. “Shoji came over with hair dye so I’ll play with you guys a little later.”

“Duuuuuude! Nooooo! I love the red and black,” Sero yelled. “Shoji don’t let him do it, he looks so hot with the two toned hair.”

“No promises,” Shoji answered. Eijiro hung up, watching as Shoji unpacked what was in the bags, staring in awe at the snacks and food that sat in front of him. Food he’d been craving for weeks. 

“You… you brought Tayaki?!”

“I heard from a little birdie that you secretly love this,” Shoji held the freshly made treat out. “I got a red bean one, a custard one and another filled with cheese. I also grabbed the strawberry mochi and some matcha ones as well. That bag closest to you has some snacks and sodas. I also brought hair dye, along with some hair dye remover.”

“Remover?”

“Do you trust me?” Shoji looked at him, two bottles of hair dye in hand. 

Eijiro grinned. Shoji had eyes in the back of his head, there was no one he could trust more to touch his hair.

Shoji pulled a chair into the bathroom, motioning for Eijiro to sit when a knock sounded. “You expecting someone?” 

Eijiro shook his head. “It’s probably Aizawa.”

“I’ll get it,” Shoji handed him the two bowls of developer. “Mix those for me?”

He did as he was told, leaning back only slightly to listen to who was at the door. 

“What are you doing here?” Bakugo’s voice cut through the room. “Where’s Ei?”

“We’re busy right now,” Shoji sighed.

“Look, I need to talk to him about…”

“Not now,” Shoji cut him off. “I saw what happened today, and he’s in a really good mood right now Bakugo. Can you do this after he has some sense of normalcy? Aizawa’s left him alone, he doesn’t have tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum following his every move and there’s mochi on the counter.”

There was silence for a moment. “That’s the smell of developer isn’t it?”

He imagined Shoji nodded, but there was silence otherwise. “I’ll…tell him I was here?”

“I can do that,” Shoji answered. Eijiro heard the door close and went back to meticulously mixing the dye into the developer. “You can stop pretending you didn’t hear all of that,” Shoji chuckled. “Eyes in the back of my head, remember?”

Eijiro glanced away, a smile rising. “You caught me. What…why did you buy dye remover?”

“Remember how you said you trusted me?” 

Eijiro glanced up at Shoji, looking at his reflection in the mirror before nodding. “Yeah, yeah let’s do it.”

***********

Bakugo slunk down to the kitchen, sighing as he yanked the fridge open. He hadn’t meant for Eijiro to see him upset, to see him walk away and all he wanted to do was apologize, to explain - but he didn’t have the heart to take a moment of happiness away from him either. He’d seen the way Eijiro had been avoiding the mirror, so he was happy for him, but he couldn’t help the sadness that filled him as he realized that he wouldn’t be the one dying his hair as usual. 

“You don’t have to take your anger out on the fridge,” Denki was perched on the counter drinking an unhealthy amount of Yakult. 

“Shut up Dunce Face,” Bakugo mumbled, but it lacked his usual bite and he could tell his idiot friend would take advantage of the window he had. 

Like clockwork, Denki hopped off the counter, downing the last four bottles in succession before staring at Bakugo, eyebrow raised. “What’s got your All-Might boxers all twisted?”

“Piss off,” he sighed, walking towards the couch only to realize he had made a mistake when he saw Sero sitting on the floor. “Fucking hell.”

“You should have seen that coming,” Denki shrugged. “We’re a package deal or whatever.”

“Shoji was right,” Bakugo gave in, flopping onto the couch and accepting the controller Sero handed to him. “You are tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum.”

Sero and Denki spun, eyes narrowed. “He didn’t say that.”

“Bet you $100 bucks,” Bakugo shrugged. 

“Shit,” Sero laughed. “Bakugo doesn’t bet money, he really did.”

“How rude,” Denki grumbled.

“What’s got you extra angsty today?” Sero asked, restarting the game of MarioKart. 

“Can’t you two just let me wallow?”

“We’re spent a lot of time trying to pick up on emotions that aren’t our own for the last few weeks being on Kiri watch,” Sero shrugged. “You’ve got some real sad vibes rolling off you right now.”

“I could kill Aizawa for giving you both a chance to grow some empathy and a semblance of a brain,” Bakugo scrolled through the characters before settling on Link. “I went to talk to Ei, to apologize, but Shoji was there and basically told me to piss off.”

“And… you didn’t barge in anyway?”

“He said Ei was happy, he was dying his hair,” Bakugo shrugged. “Who am I to take a moment of happiness away from him when those seem to be few and far between?”

He felt Sero and Denki glance at him before the room fell to silence. 

“What?” Bakugo asked, tossing the red shell he had at Denki who had chosen Princess Peach. He slowed enough so he could throw one more once his kart regained movement.

“Woah, don’t take it out on Peach,” Denki laughed. “I … dude, you’re literally his happiness… which is probably a bit unhealthy but… there’s no one Ei loves and cares about more than you. I’m not even joking. He mumbles your name in his sleep.”

“Whatever,” Bakugo shrugged. 

“What are you apologizing for?” Sero asked. 

Bakugo silently cursed himself for making his way to the common room to entertain the two idiots. “It’s none of your business.”

“What’d you do?” Denki glanced over at him before letting the blue shell that was sitting in his arsenal loose. Bakugo was prepared though, staying close enough to Sero who was in second and easing up just enough for it to hit him instead. 

“Oh, you’re an asshole,” Sero yelped. “Why would you do that to me?”

“Because I play to win,” Bakugo shrugged. 

“Whatever, what did you do?” Sero pressed.

Bakugo sighed. “He ran out of therapy sobbing, and I….” he paused, not wanting to finish his sentence. 

“Oh, you ran away from him didn’t you?” Denki finished the sentence for him. 

“Not for the reason you think asshole,” he sunk into his seat. “I - i got scared because I thought that I was the reason he was crying. That I … he deserves better.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Sero answered plainly. “He loves you.”

“He shouldn’t,” Bakugo mumbled. 

“For someone at the top of our class, you’re the dumbest, most self-sacrificing, in your head motherfucker I know,” Sero shrugged. “Although Midoriya might have you just a bit on the self-sacrificing shit.”

“Wanna say that again Tape-Face?”

“That you’re a dumb, self-sacrificing in your head idiot?” Sero paused the game, and turned to look at him. “Yeah, I’ll fucking say it again. Shoji was right - you’re so blind. Wanna know why Kiri didn’t make how he was feeling as plain as day, especially to you? Because he adores you, and he doesn’t want you to see him as less than you. Your opinion, what you do, what you think of him, It all matters to him more than you realize dumbass.”

“How do you know that?”

“Anyone with eyes can see it Kats,” Sero sighed. “Everyone but you.”

Sero unpaused the game, turning back to the screen but Bakugo’s heart wasn’t in it anymore. He knew he shouldn’t have run, he just…everything felt different now and he wasn’t sure what to do. 

“Just treat him the same as you did before,” Sero sighed. “I can hear the wheels in your brain going a mile a minute - the hamsters are about to start a union. Plus, your eyebrows are furrowed so deeply you might slice your own face open.”

“It’s hard,” Bakugo whispered. “I keep seeing it happen. Seeing him fall.”

“You know he got those nightmares too,” Denki answered, splaying himself across the couch. “When he watched you die on the battlefield, for weeks he’d wake up screaming out your name, throwing up in the bathroom because it felt as real as it did. It didn’t matter that he knew you were okay - seeing you die… well, it did to him what seeing him almost die is doing to you.”

“That’s not true,” Bakugo glanced at Denki. “He was at the hospital, he was one of the first ones.”

“He wasn’t,” Sero sighed. “You were in and out for weeks. Midoriya was first, then your parents and Aizawa - the old man didn’t want to leave your side. But by the time you were conscious, fully conscious - it would have been almost a month that you’d been in the hospital. He holed away for a month. The only person that saw it was Denki. I didn’t even realize.”

“Wait…you knew something was wrong with him?”

“Not the second time around,” Denki glanced away. “I thought it was just a you thing - that he was so terrified of losing you that he shut us all out. I - I didn’t know there was more, I-I didn’t realize he blamed himself for your death… for …everything.”

Denki sobbed then, Sero and Bakugo reached over to grab him, pulling him in. “I should have known it was more.” He gasped, “I could have stopped, I could have…I should have.”

“We all should have,” Sero answered. “But we didn’t.”

“No,” Bakugo said, his voice steeled. “I should have. More than anyone, I should have."

"You aren't getting it," Sero sighed. 

"I am," he answered. "And you're right - but it doesn't change the fact that I missed it and I shouldn't have. I'll regret it forever."

***********

Eijiro stared at himself in the mirror, a wide grin growing on his face. His hair was red, but it was black too. If he lifted his hair, underneath was a layer of black that covered his neck. In the front, the strands framing his face were all black with red tips that blended in with the rest of the red. Eijiro spun then, wrapping his arms around Shoji. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, feeling tears starting to fall from his eyes. “Thank you so much Shoji.”

He felt Shoji chuckle against him. “I told you you could trust me.”

Eijiro pulled back, nodding before turning to look in the mirror once more. “I feel, I feel like me - like this version of me.”

“Like a version of you that might want to stick around a little longer?”

He turned, seeing worry fill Shoji’ eyes. Eijiro sighed, sitting back down in the chair. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know,” Shoji answered. “And I know it’s hard to think that there are people that care about you, that they aren’t lying, that it’s not just a facade - but Kiri, we all love you. So much.”

“I know,” Eijiro slumped down in his chair. “But when it’s what you grew up hearing…”

“It’s hard to tune it out,” Shoji finished his sentence. “You can come to me, judgment free. I told you Kiri, I get it.”

Eijiro nodded. “Thanks, for today Shoji. And I’m sorry, for you have to…”

“- don’t,” Shoji answered. “You don’t have to, just stick around for another day or two. And when those are up, we’ll try for another two.”

Eijiro chuckled. “I can try.”

Shoji smiled, packing up his things. 

“You’re leaving?”

“There are some feet storming up the stairs and I’m pretty sure they’re coming to you,” Shoji chuckled. “If I tell him no again I don’t think I’ll walk out of here with all my limbs.”

Eijiro chuckled. “Alright.”

“But if you need some help, just knock on the wall - and I don’t just mean with Bakugo. With anything, I mean it when I said I’ll be here for you. And I’ll say it over and over until you hear us, even if you have to hear me before you hear anyone else. I’m going to get it into that thick skin of yours.”

“Alright, alright,” Eijiro chuckled. “I hear you.”

“I’ll see you later,” Shoji smiled, swinging the door open to find Bakugo standing there, hand ready to knock. 

“He’s good,” Shoji placed a hand on Bakugo’s shoulder. “Don’t fuck up my hard work.”

“The fuck?” Bakugo growled, but Shoji only walked past him, leaving him to stare at Eijiro who was standing in his doorway. Eijiro who’s hair look so different, but so good.

“Hey,” Eijiro answered, the soft smile Bakugo remembered from the first time he’d seen him in the hallways of UA appearing after disappearing for so long.

Bakugo tried his best to hold back the tears, but they fell anyway. “Hey,” he sniffled.

Chapter Text

3 months later

Hey, it’s me, Eijiro Kirishima. It’s been a long time since I’ve written one of these, but Dr. Bleu said it might help me see how far I’ve come. A few months ago I was on life support. A few months ago I couldn’t walk around without the feeling of Aizawa’s eyes watching my every move. He still watches, just a little less than normal. I’ve found people that care about me. People I can talk to about what’s going on in my head. Shoji in particular has a good ear, or five, but he gets it. It’s nice to truly understand that someone else gets it. Last month he started seeing Dr. Bleu, so did Denki. Maybe I can eventually convince Blasty to go outside of the mandated monthly visits everyone has to go to. But I’m okay. There are bad days, lots of bad days still. But I’m learning not to sit with them. I told Dr. Bleu that I wanted to confront my parents, but she made a good point, “Survive and become the hero they didn’t think you could. You don’t owe them anything, not when they were supposed to give you everything.”And she might be right. I got cleared to go back to training last week, but I think it’s because Aizawa knew Bakugo and Shoji were training me at night on their own. This feels very different from the original letters I wrote, maybe because this doesn’t feel like goodbye. Not this time. Not for now. 

Eijiro watched as Bakugo flopped onto his bed, tucking his head into the crook of Eijiro’s arm. He’d been softer lately, more open. Eijiro realized after their talk that day that he had started being more intentional about sharing his feelings, as he realized their lack of communication had created an unknowing gap between them. 

“Long day?” Eijiro asked.

Bakugo grumbled. “Something like that,” he sighed. “Stupid Deku on his self-sacrificing bullshit during work studies today almost caused a building to topple over.”

“Did you guys talk about it?”

Eijiro heard a muffled scoff and chuckled. “I can’t be the only one you choose to use your words with you know Kat, you’re going to have to figure it out when you’re pro heroes - they’ve already marked you two as the wonder duo.”

“What if I want to be the wonder duo with you?” 

Eijiro propped himself up on his arm, glancing down at Bakugo who’s hiding spot had suddenly been taken from him. “With me?”

“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes, glancing away. “So what?”

“Being the Wonder Duo with Midoriya doesn’t mean you can’t work with me too,” Eijiro brushed hair out his face. “Plus, I’ve been thinking.”

Bakugo raised an eyebrow. “Well that’s never good.”

Eijiro laughed, shoving him. “FatGum called me today, told me he’d like to have me back at his agency with Tamaki. And I think it’d be good for me. I’d get to do some desk work, some clean up work, enough to get my foot back in the game for a while. I want my head to be in a good place before I get back in the field and you… you were meant for it Kats, I’d never take that from you.”

“I’d wait,” Bakugo whispered, his head ducked towards Eijiro’s chest. Eijiro reached out, tilting Bakugo’s chin up. 

“I don’t want you to,” Eijiro smiled. “You’re doing what you’re meant to do - and when I get back to where I’m meant to be, where my head needs to be -  then we can figure the rest out.”

“Stupid therapist making you think logically for once.”

“Stupid therapist making sure I stay alive this time,” Eijiro chuckled. “We’ve got time, we can figure it out.”

It wasn’t lost on Eijiro the way Bakugo gripped his shirt a little tighter when he said he had time, so he pulled him closer, pressing his lips to his forehead as they lay there in silence. 

*****

Eijiro walked out of English class, ignoring Present Mic’s comments about the fact that he shouldn’t be a third year student who still doesn’t know the difference between your and you’re in English, but they sounded the same to Eijiro so whose fault was it really. 

“Your!” Mic yelled, laughed in his voice. “It’s YOUR fault.”

“And YOU’RE being ridiculous,” Eijiro laughed. “Plus if you hold me back from Aizawa any longer I’m blaming it on you.”

Mic blanched, words caught in his throat before he shooed them out his door. Shoji followed behind, laughing as he caught up to Eijiro. 

“It only gets harder from here, wait until you hit affect vs effect and complement vs compliment, the English language is wild.”

“You just said the same words twice,” Eijiro laughed. “I’m absolutely convinced the English language was meant to torture us.”

“Essentially,” Shoji laughed. “Mind if I walk with you to Aizawa?”

Eijiro nodded, and they turned the corner towards Aizawa’s office. In the past few months Shoji had been at his side a lot. He’d learned a lot about how Shoji saw himself and realized that in some way, they looked in the mirror and felt the same things. Eijiro however, had realized that he could hide the things that hurt him, but when Shoji looked in the mirror, he saw what everyone was most afraid of - they were figuring it out together. 

As they came towards Aizawa’s door,  they saw that Aizawa that he had his new first years in class still and chuckled, settling in the benches opposite his classroom. 

“Can I ask you something?” Shoji propped his leg up on the bench, pressing his head into the wall. 

“What’s up?”

“All the time we hang out, does… does it bother Bakugo? I don’t want to get in between you both - I can back off if,”

“Hey,” Eijiro stopped him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re in your head again, get out of it.”

“You used your and you’re right,” Shoji chuckled. 

“Shut up,” Eijiro shoved him. “I’m right, you need to get out of your thoughts.” He sagged against the wall then. “There was a moment where he asked if I thought I’d be better with you, because you got me… saw me, heard me when he couldn’t. But it’s different. I love both of you, just differently. It took a while for him to understand, but he does now. It’s like… him and Midoriya. They have a connection that I’ll never understand, a history. In the same way, we have a connection. It might not have the same history, but it holds as much weight.”

Shoji watched him for a moment, then nodded and Eijiro saw him exhale the way he did when something was stressing him. 

“You can ask me things like this anytime,” Eijiro nudged him. “You know that.”

“Yeah,” Shoji smiled. “Thanks.”

“To what do I owe this pleasure,” Aizawa stood at his door, arms crossed. “I could be napping.”

Shoji laughed. “And miss our company, I doubt it. You don’t have to pretend you don’t love us Sensei.”

“Then I’ve grossly made my intentions unclear,” Aizawa sighed. “How are you both?”

“Pretty good,” Eijiro smiled. “Just handing in my weekly progress journal.”

Aizawa took the book from Eijiro, turning it over in his palm a few times. “It’s been three months already?’

“Yeah,” Eijiro smiled. “I handed Dr. Bleu her copy at our meeting this morning.”

Aizawa nodded, glancing at the book once more before tucking it into his sleeping bag. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Eijiro chuckled. “That’s all I’ve got for today, I’ll see you at training tomorrow Sensei.” He turned on his heel when a hand reached out, wrapping itself around his wrist. Eijiro turned to glance at Aizawa for a moment, to realize his eyes were red enough that if you looked close enough, you’d see that the usually dry eyes were watery. 

With a soft smile, Eijiro walked towards him to find his teacher pulling him in, arms wrapping tightly around him. Out the corner of his eye, he watched Shoji pull the door closed to give them a moment. 

“You okay Sensei?”

“The last time you walked out with a smile on your face,” Aizawa started.

“Yeah, I know - I’m sorry.”

“You’re here now,” Aizawa said, his hand reaching up to hold Eijiro’s head. “I’m proud of you. You’re going to be a great hero, Kirishima, one of the greatest.” Aizawa released him then, stepping back and clearing his throat. “But until then, I expect to see you in training at 6am tomorrow.”

Eijiro laughed, brushing the tears that had formed from his eyes. “Yes, Sensei.” He met Shoji outside, who met him with curious eyes. 

“What was that about?”

Eijiro scratched his head for a moment, debating if he should share then shrugged. “The day before…that day. I had given Aizawa a form from Dr. Bleu that said I was getting better. But it was a lie, I had been…pretending so they’d think I was okay.”

“So he thought you giving him that book…”

“It was more like I had taken him back to that day for a moment,” Eijiro sighed. “Except I guess he sees me this time, he knows I’m okay.”

“Are you?” Shoji glanced at him as they walked towards the dorms. “Okay?”

Eijiro chuckled. “Ahh, I’m getting there.”

“Good,” Shoji smiled. “But your dye job needs work so I’m heading to the store later.”

Eijiro clutched his heart, fake gasping for air. “H-how dare you insult this magical handiwork!”

“It was my work so I can insult it all I want,” Shoji laughed. “I’ll catch up with you later?”

Eijiro nodded, walking towards Denki and Sero who were sitting outside the dorms, trying desperately to get his attention.

“What’s up?” Eijiro asked, sitting next to them. 

“DUDE!” Denki sat on top of the table, staring down at him. “You weren’t going to tell us you’d be back at FatGums?”

“Dang, Bakugo spilled the beans?”

“Bakugo knew before us?!” Denki gasped dramatically.

“He always knows before us,” Sero chuckled. 

“Okay so it wasn’t Bakugo,” Eijiro deduced. “Who was it?”

“Sero tried to flirt with Tamaki on patrol today as if he isn’t bonded to Mirio for life,” Denki chuckled. “I think out of fright he told Sero he’d leave him alone.”

“Listen man,” Sero sighed. “Tentacles.”

“You concern me,” Eijiro glanced at Sero who shrugged, turning back to whatever game he was playing on his Switch. 

“A man likes what he likes bro,” Sero chuckled. 

“So, are you going to do it?” Denki asked, all but dropping into Eijiro’s lap. He glanced at Denki who’s hair had grown out, flowing down his back, with a patterned undercut peeking out from underneath. His jaw had gotten squarer and sharper too and Eijiro found himself asking when everyone around him had started to grow up. 

“I’m taking it.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Eijiro smiled. “I think the office work will be good for me, plus I trust Fat and Tamaki with my emotions. Tamaki especially. I - he gets it.”

Denki nodded. 

“That’s cool bro,” Denki smiled, settling beside him. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Eijiro sighed. “Didn’t think I’d get back here.”

“But you did,” Denki placed his hand on Eijiro’s arm, squeezing it slightly. “And we’ll be here with you, and for you, no matter what.”

Eijiro’s brows furrowed. Denki didn’t do the sentimental thing very often. 

“Uhhhh…everything okay Denks?”

“He’s been holding that one in for a while,” Sero said. “Didn’t want to overwhelm you back then.”

“You could have said something,” Eijiro glanced at Denki. 

Denki shrugged. “I had to work through some shit myself first.”

“I hear you,” Eijiro answered. “Smash tonight after Shoji redyes my hair?”

“Hell yeah,” Denki grinned. “Sero’s in too, he’s just trying to get a three-tiered waterfall on his island built into the shape of a heart right now.”

“Shit’s complicated,” Sero grumbled, turning his switch. “They could have made this so much easier.”

Eijiro laughed, grabbing his bag and heading into the dorms.

*****

“Hey,” Eijiro grinned, walking into Bakugo’s room, pausing as he took stock of everything going on. On the floor sat a picnic blanket with food and a basket and candles. 

“You’re late,” Bakugo answered, as he tugged a t-shirt on. 

“Wh-what’s going on here?”  

Bakugo avoided eye contact for a moment, before breathing in and walking towards Eijiro. “It’s…for us.”

“You did all this?”

“No dipshit, the little elves did - of course it was me.”

Eijiro laughed, sitting down on the mat. “What for?”

“Because you turned that book thing in today,” Bakugo mumbled, sitting across from him. 

“That’s all?”

“That’s worth celebrating isn’t it?”

“I mean, yeah, but this… seems like a lot for … I’m grateful, I love it - but,”

“But?”

“But I want you to use your words Kats,” Eijiro smiled, glancing up at scarlet eyes that he knew he’d never be able to forget, no matter what lifetime he ended up in. 

Bakugo rolled his eyes, shoving a small box towards Eijiro. He took it, glancing up at Bakugo for a moment before opening it. He stared at what lay in the box, feeling tears come to his eyes for the second time that day. 

“Kats,” he whispered, pulling it out of the box. He held in his hand the bracelet he had left in Bakugo’s room that night. The one that said “E+K Besties 4Ever” now had “I love you” engraved at the bottom, and was held together by a silver chain. Eijiro glanced up, wiping tears from his eyes.

“I-I’m … was it too much, I didn’t mean to ruin it I just thought -”

Eijiro cut him off, crossing the blanket in an instant to press his lips against Bakugo’s. He pulled him close, feeling the warmth and longing that had sat in his chest for so long, finally released. His right hand cupped Bakugo’s neck and his head tilted to give him more and ask for more all at once. Bakugo, who had frozen for a split second, started to move his lips in tune to Eijiro’s until the two of them pulled back, gasping for air. 

Eijiro grinned, his hand still cupping Bakugo’s neck. “It wasn’t too much.”

“Your knee is in our dinner,” Bakugo mumbled, pulling Eijiro in to kiss him again. “And you’re an idiot.”

“But you love me,” Eijiro said, suddenly not feeling a need to question it. This felt right. Everything up to now had let to this moment where he didnt have to worry about whether or not his emotions, his feeling for Bakugo were real. He knew they were. He could feel it. “You.. you love me.”

“Yeah I love you dumbass,” Bakugo chuckled. “Always have.”

Eijiro pulled back, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“I - I had come to terms that loving you, was hurting you,” Bakugo sighed. “It’s why I ran that day when I saw you in pain, after I had told you how I felt. I thought I was the cause of that.”

“No, Kats no,” Eijiro took Bakugo’s hands in his. “My brain … it does...did... sometimes still does this twisted thing sometimes and I - I thought the opposite. And had convinced myself that being around was only hurting you. That loving me, wouldn’t be good for you.”

“I chose what’s good for me,” Bakugo looked at him. “I do what I want and you’ve known this already… except when it comes to you. You do this thing to me Ei, that makes me want to be better. To be nicer. To care. To…be like you.”

“That’s not the best idea,” Eijiro chuckled.

“You know what I mean,” Bakugo said. “I love you Ei, and that’s all that matters. We can figure everything else out as we go.”

“Yeah?”

Bakugo hummed, running a finger around the loose strand of black hair that dangled in Eijiro’s face.

“Okay,” Eijiro smiled, pulling him in once more. “Shoji’s redying this tonight by the way.”

“I’ll have to ask him to teach me,” Bakugo said softly.

Eijiro paused for a minute. “Only if you let him keep doing it.”

“There’s going to come a time when he might be on a mission,” Bakugo answered. “I want to know, for you.”

“Okay,” Eijiro laughed. “You can ask him tonight, he went to go get dye earlier.”

Bakugo glared for a moment when Eijro pressed a kiss to his nose. “It’s a good thing you love me.”

“Yeah, it is,” Bakugo scoffed. 

*****

Eijiro watched as Shoji and Bakugo argued back and forth in the bathroom over what to do with his hair and what the best way to mix developer was. For the first time in a long while, he felt like everything in his life was settling in a way he hadn’t begun to imagine was possible before. 

“Why the fuck would you bleach the whole strand when his hair is already red?!”

“You’re the one that came to me for help,” Shoji chuckled. “You’re supposed to be watching, remember.”

“Stupid fucking way to dye hair if you ask me.”

“This is why you’re watching,” Shoji smirked. 

Eijiro shook his head, knowing that no matter what, he was in good hands. He’d found his people.