Chapter Text
There are certain things in life, Bakugou realized, that he had taken for granted.
The way the sky turned a dusty orange in the first light of day or how the grass ruffled about in the breeze. How refreshing an iced tea was after a long day of hero training or the rough satisfaction of finishing his homework in class before the bell even rang. Other things were heavier and he found himself angry he ever overlooked them, like the constant support of a loving family and a home to go back to. Maybe the soft caress of companionship or the presence of someone else in his life. For better or for worse. In that brief flash in time, when his guard was down if only momentarily, he realized the most foolish thing he ever took for granted was something he'd probably never see again.
Kirishima's smile.
-----
When villains attacked again, Bakugou was ready.
Bakugou wasn't sure if the men standing before his class were idiots or just wanted to die. He supposed it really didn't matter which of the two of was, he was planning on kicking their sorry asses regardless of their excuses. Crackles and pops heated the air around his fists as he waiting to strike. He was itching, yearning, for his fist to collide with something. To deliver one good blow and watch a fucker crumble. Pent up frustration ripped through him like chaotic waves, the desire to rip out of his own skin and destroy stronger than it’s ever been. He needed to hit something. Someone.
"Give up now, children!" A deep, husky voice called out from the mass of villains. Bakugou snapped his gaze in the direction of the tall man, his fiery glare intensifying. Here in the middle of nowhere, on their way to a hero's training facility, the risk of civilian casualties was practically nonexistent. Bakugou figured the men standing before him were the stupidest he'd seen. If he were a villain-
He immediately shoved away the thought. He was going to be the best goddamn hero this world has ever seen. His fists clenched to his sides, his jaw set. His classmates shifted around him, no one daring to open their mouths. Each second that passed caused Bakugou's rage to deepen.
Midoriya and Todoroki found their way up to his sides and Bakugou let out a growl. These losers were below him, pests. A brief flash of Kirishima flashed through his mind momentarily before he growled and shoved it back. A pin could drop there in the dense mountain's trees, and it could be heard for miles. The silence was almost suffocating, neither party daring to back down from their stand off. No one dared to move first.
A second passed, then all hell broke loose.
Bakugou, of course, was the first to initiate the attack, his fist colliding with a crack to the side of one of the loser's skulls, a large explosion singing the pale skin of the pathetic villain's cheek. The sound of the male's cry seemed to snap everyone from their trances. Around him, his classmates jumped to life, engaging with the men standing before them. He barely registered Kaminari rushing past him, delivering a high voltage shock to a lanky looking guy to his right or Sero's tape taking the guy down to his left.
His eyes simply seared into the loser in front of him.
With blast, he flew forward again, swinging his heel down with a sneer. In an attempt so somehow reserve himself, the villain let out a growl and jumped back, sending a shock wave through the earth towards the ash blonde. Bakugou stumbled a bit before steadying himself, his glare hardening at the man. Earthquakes, huh? Bakugou gritted his teeth and sank into a fighting position, no way in hell was he going to lose to this helpless bastard.
The war between elements waged on, tremors shook the earth and the explosive blasts only seemed to intensify. For every punch thrown, an explosive block followed. Swing, Blast. Swing, Blast. Swing, Blast. Neither party dared to step back. Bakugou was thrown into a frenzy of unfiltered rage, crying out and brashly thrashing against the attacks thrown in his direction. Something about it only seemed to piss him off more. “DIE ALREADY YOU FUCKER,” he practically screamed, slamming his fist down on top of the grown man's head with a deafening boom.
The man cried out and stumbled to his knees, red was the only color Bakugou could register. He hated the color. It seemed every pesky thing in his life was associated with that same crimson color.
The world could die.
That’s at least what Bakugou kept telling himself repetitively over the course of the week. The rain thundering on outside never once seemed to stop as the days swept pass him. Slowly the weeks since his kidnapping turned to months. The news stories died down. The numbers of strangers who recognized him were subtly falling. His mom stopped clinging to him. Then why the hell did his classmates still insist on bringing it up? Why were they so insistent on making him out to be a weak bastard? Why was he still a victim in their eyes? He didn’t need anyone.
“Bakugou, how are you holding up?”
“Do you need any help Kacchan?”
“The staff and I are here if you ever feel the need to talk.”
Bakugou stuffed his hands further into his pockets, glaring holes into tile below him. He wasn’t weak. He didn’t need these losers stressing over him every step he took. He didn’t need his peers looking down on him. He didn’t want them to pity him. He was fine. He was strong. He didn’t need anyone.
“I thought we could understand each other.”
His mind immediately repulsed at the thought, his shoulders tensing. As soon as the image flashed into his brain, it was shoved away. Bakugou refused to labor over what happened. The heroes won. It was over. He picked up his pace, his vision tunneling. He didn’t need anyone.
“You must have been scared. Good Job enduring.”
He wasn’t scared! He wasn’t a coward! He didn’t need anyone, damn it!
“Take my hand!”
The memory twisted around within his mind, his brows knitting together. It didn’t matter where he turned, the bastard was always there. The color red searing into his mind and that same stupid grin burning into his memory. He couldn’t escape the idiot. He was everywhere.
Bakugou hadn’t noticed he’d collided with someone until the extra was spread across the ground below him. As if on instinct, explosions picked up between his fingers, a growl falling from him. “WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING MOTHERFUCKER.”
A small pit formed in his stomach.
“Bakugou,” a voice whisked past his ears ripping a low growl from his lungs. A hand pressed firmly into his shoulder, his head whipping around to sear holes into the loser who dared to pull his focus from the task at hand. The characteristic harsh pops whistled at his fingertips as his fiery eyes met red, “Chill out dude. You don’t need to be so violent.”
Bakugou’s gazed moved to the cowering student in front of him before his shoulder jerked forward, violently reacting to the touch. “Get off of me, Shitty Hair,” he seethed out bitterly causing Kirishima’s eyes to harden, if only slightly. “You’re not my fucking mother. Fuck off.”
Kirishima didn’t follow the order. He reached forward and roughly grabbed Bakugou’s wrist, his expression determined as he activated his quirk. “Leave him alone,” he stated clearly, “You can’t go blowing up whoever looks at you wrong.” Bakugou sneered, trying to wrestle his arm from the hardened grasp. Kirishima didn’t falter. “Chill.”
Bakugou felt an arm wrap around him, trying to pull him away. He snarled and swung his free arm back, delivering a harsh blast to the side of Kirishima’s head. The male hardened on time but his grasp loosened enough for Bakugou to wrestle away. The student Bakugou nearly clobbered managed to his feet and rushed away before the blonde had an opportunity to respond.
Damn Kirishima.
The redhead dared to breathe out a long breath of relief, rubbed absently at the side of his head where the other’s fist connected with his skin. He reached forward again to grab Bakugou’s shoulder. “Come on, man,” he chuckled, “Let’s head back to the class before Aizawa kicks our asses.” Bakugou didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. Why was Kirishima always there?
Kirishima’s brows knit together before he gave Bakugou’s shoulder a light tug. Bakugou immediately slapped his hand away, crashing back into reality. Why was the only reminded of his weakness so fucking relentless with his attacks of compassion and kindness. Why was Bakugou so helpless? “Don’t fucking touch me.”
Kirishima tensed for a moment before his brows creased further. He reached out again.
“I SAID DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!”
Kirishima stepped back. “Dude. What’s the problem?” he asked. The concern lacing his words only seemed to throw Bakugou further down the rabbit hole, his shoulders trembling in rage. That was the same damn face everyone kept giving him. The same damn expression he despised. Why was it only tolerable on Kirishima's face? “Do you want to talk about it? I’ll help anyway I-”
“I don’t WANT your help!” Bakugou barked out, his voice husky and dark, threatening to shatter if he stumbled. Kirishima visibly flinched as if Bakugou had struck him, sinking back. Why did the sight make Bakugou so damn angry? He growled. He was sick and tired of being pulled in every direction. He was sick and tired of people looking down on him. He didn’t need a babysitter.
HE DIDN’T NEED ANYONE.
“Katsuki,” Kirishima whispered, his sickening sweet voice nearly calming the impulsive teen. Why did the sound of his name make his heart ache? “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I TOLD YOU TO FUCK OFF!” Bakugou whirled around on his heels, un unable to look at those infuriatingly soft features. How did someone with a quirk so rough manage the softest looks? “WHO GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO USE MY GIVEN NAME? GET OUT OF MY FUCKING BUSINESS, SHITTY HAIR. I FUCKING HATE YOU.”
'I fucking hate you.'
No. 'I fucking hate how I've let you in.'
Unfortunately, Bakugou never got the chance to take it back before his world was crumbling.
Bakugou stared down at the male, an unconscious heap of a human. He rose his hands and cracked his knuckles, practically spitting at the man below him. His temper was too thin for this shit. “Serves you right, fucker,” he growled out. His head burned the image of red from his mind. He didn’t need anyone in his life. He shoved away the regret. He didn’t care what the losers around him thought. He swallowed the sinking feeling and took a step back.
He most certainly didn’t miss Kirishima.
Bakugou didn't hold back when it came to the other men around him. He relentlessly attacked. Delivering near fatal blows to every fucker that dared to stand up against him. His adrenaline was soring, his mind narrowed to that of an animal. He ignored the complaints and cries of frustration that rippled out around him from his peers. Each person met with the rugged edge of his fist and fiery temper eventually went down. And they went down hard.
He was a force in and of himself.
When the numbers finally started dying down, Bakugou couldn't help but fall into a deep daze. He continued to hit softer and softer, his attacks sloppier and sloppier. Why was he suddenly so tired? Unconsciousness dug its heels into his head and slowly began to wrap around his mind. His gaze moved about, trying to grab a hold of whatever had snared him. No. His mind screamed against him, large explosions exploding about his palms in an attempt to keep himself alert. No. He was going to win.
He had to win.
"Bakugou! Watch out!"
There was a cry of determination, a crack, then silence. Bakugou watched it horror as a massive fist came down hard the color red. Kirishima crumbled to the ground mere inches from him, pulling Bakugou back to complete consciousness. "Why didn't you activate your fucking quirk!?" He steered, taking down the giant fucker with one massive blast. His wrists and arms burned, his palms stinging. What a fucking nuisance.
He waited for a moment for the stubborn redhead to push himself up with that same sickening, sheepish grin. However the mass of flesh and red didn't move. Bakugou growled, shoving away the internal panic bubbling up within him. "Oi! Shitty Hair! Are you fucking ignoring me!? Get up! The fights not over!" He nudged an arm with his toes.
Still, Kirishima didn't move.
Bakugou froze, his eyes widening slightly. "This isn't fucking funny, Kirishima! Get the fuck up! I'll kick your ass!" He paused before shakily stepping closer. "I swear to god Kirishima. Get up. Get up." He slowly sank to his knees, hesitantly reaching towards the shark toothed male. "Kirishima?"
He was vaguely aware of the students that rushed to their sides. He could barely register the panicked voices or the calls of confusion. He dragged Kirishima into his arms, helplessly clinging to the male's torso. Why was he suddenly so cold? His pulse so weak it seemed almost motionless. His voice called out from him, foreign and weak. "Someone call the cops," his voice cracked dangerously around the words. "CALL THE FUCKING COPS."
The chaos went on around him. Maybe if he didn’t drop his guard for those painstaking seconds, everything wouldn’t have gone the way it had. He’d never have to feel agony of regret in the coming weeks. His self hatred would have never cut so deep.
"Kirishima," he frantically cried out. Sirens. Stretchers. Beeping. Buzzing. "Kirishima."
"Clear!"
"Eijirou."
'I fucking hate you.'
"Don't leave me."
But your mind is always the surest in hindsight.