Actions

Work Header

True Colors

Summary:

Katsuki Bakugo was not a nice person, nor did he try to be. His one aspiration in life was to become Number One Hero and ram stupid Deku into the ground while doing so. Friends were a liability, or rather, step-stools to take advantage of to further his dream. Everyone liked to think that Eijirou Kirishima was different. In reality, this was not the case.

It takes him a long time to realize this.

Or; Kirishima realizes what a toxic friend Bakugo is, only far too late.

Notes:

Let me start off by saying I don’t think Bakugo has always these horrible thoughts, nor does he canonly treat Kirishima this way, but I think we can all agree he has a smidge of toxicity when it comes to his friendships. Not with Midoriya because their whole existence with each other is obviously toxic, but more so with Kirishima and the others. I think he takes it too far sometimes, even if that IS his personality. But, I still love him, you know? And I wanted to write something to get my frustrations about him out, haha! Heed the warnings, my loves!

Warnings:
-Major Injury
-Slight Gore/Blood
-Implied/Referenced (not in the traditional sense, but it remains true)
-Toxic Friendship/Relationship (however you want to see it)
-Implied/Referenced Abuse

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

It's raining, but Kirishima doesn't mind. The water whipped and pounded against the glass, and yet he still doesn't look away as it trickled down and deeper into the window panes. He flinches each time thunder roared across the overcast sky, rippling through the clouds and seemingly shaking the building. He closes his eyes every time he feels the impending doom of an up and coming stroke of lightening, the sudden flash mimicking the spark of rock-on-rock as his skin clashed, ripping at his exterior, making him bleed, turning him into a-...

Kirishima couldn't even finish the thought. So, he closed his eyes completely and laid back in his bed, staring up at his dorm-room ceiling with a look of poorly concealed melancholy. His throat hurt. Scratch that, his whole body felt like it was on fire, wrapped tightly in bandages, making him look more akin to an ancient mummy than a human boy. Kaminari had joked about that, and though it didn't quite reach his eyes like he intended, the red-head smiled and forced a laugh. 

The darkness was suffocating. He looked towards the light switch in the wall, right next to the door and frowned. If only he could get up and turn on the overhead lights, maybe then the world wouldn't seem so drab. 

The empty space where his legs should be stops him. 

Alas, the last person to visit him must have forgotten to leave it on when they left. 

Kirishima settled into his duvet, his muscles and bones creaking as they begged for him to stop; however, he paid no mind to their screams and instead chose to nuzzle his way into the mattress even further. His skin was on fire, sending ripples of shock and pain across every crevice of his body, immobilizing him for a brief moment. Vaguely, he thought he saw a stain of red poking through the bandages on his chest, but he chose to ignore the growing color in favor of slipping his eyes shut. Another roar of thunder traveled across the sky, and before he could conceal it, a whimper of fear crossed his lips. 

Idiot, he thought bitterly. It's not very many to be afraid of a little thunder, is it? 

But every time he heard the wretched sound, it was no longer the dark clouds and torrential downpour that caused it. No, it was booming explosions, lasting for minutes on end as they crawled across thin air, burning his ear drums. They were the sound of buildings collapsing around him, rubble and cement crumbling to the floor, only to break through the ground with piercing sides. The thunder was no longer such- no, it was horrified screaming followed by the roar of gruntled voices, drowning out the sound of pleading victims. 

Kirishima hated the rain. 

The room was grey. His bed was grey. The window to the outside world, though he could see the outline of green trees, was nothing more than a messily off-white, outlined with black. His skin was ashen, though he knew that was due to being without food for so long, having been in a coma for over three days (that fact never failed to make him shutter; three days felt like a lifetime). Eijirou had seen himself, and had seen the way his purple and bluish veins poked out through his pale skin, which was usually a warm tan. Though not much of his skin was shown due to the immense amount of injuries his body sustained, he could tell by the way the others looked at him, that he was no longer the Eijirou Kirishima they knew. He was, ironically, hardened. 

Maybe they could tell by the way his eyes no longer sparkled, but rather, they stayed a dull red that lacked its normal luster. 

Like a light bulb that had lost it's fuel.

Or, rather, the image of the sun being shadowed by rain clouds, dark and ominous and empty of anything but despondency. Kirishima found it funny, how he was always described as being more akin to the sun than anything else, when in reality, he was far from that happy ball of light everyone painted him as. He assumed that many heroes who shared the same gaze as him had once been little balls of joy as well. They just lose it after battle like the one he endured, so, really, he wasn't that special after all. 

There’s a machine next to him, which occasionally make a high-pitched sound in which he absolutely hated, but tolerated as it seemed permanent. He recognizes it, he thinks, as a life support machine. Vaguely, the boy realizes that this is the one thing keeping him alive physically while his mental health declined furiously. He frowns at it’s connection to the wall right beside the bed, so close, he could touch it. 

Best to leave it alone, he thinks, sure of himself, wouldn’t want to accidentally rip it out.

The door suddenly opened, offering the smallest bit of light into the dark room. Three figures entered, but not a single one turned on the damn light and Kirishima felt like screaming. Mina was smiling gleefully, as well as Kaminari, who was waving fitfully. Sero smiled calmly, almost hesitantly, before following the others inside. 

"Hey, bro," Kaminari greeted, oddly soft. 

"Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead!" Mina giggled to herself, clasping her hands in front of her. Eijirou fought the urge to tell her he hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours. The last time he had, he had been awoken by a nightmare so traumatizing, he was afraid to fall asleep. 

"Hey, Kiri, how're you doing?" Sero nearly whispered, and it wasn't until then that Kirishima realized why. His ears had been infected during his fight, a mixture of blood and soot attacking his eardrum and leaving it riddled with blisters. No wonder any remotely loud sound hurt so badly. "You sleepin'? Eating everything they give you?"

Kirishima nodded. He ignored the smell of vomit coming from the trash bin beside him, though it was lingering yet almost faded. He had tried to eat. It just didn't work out, and sleep was out of the question. 

"You okay?" Mina asked, a frowned forming on her pink lips as she sat down on his bed, careful to avoid any of his injuries (which was hard when his whole body was one but mass of broken bones and cracked skin). Kaminari and Sero followed suit, finding empty spaces on his bed. The clear space by his bottom half was awkwardly filled as Sero sat criss-cross where his appendages should be. He had been discharged from the hospital a week ago, and had yet to risen from bed once. They were afraid he may be paralyzed on the parts of his legs that hadn’t been severed during the battle, as well as his right arm, which hadn’t so much as twitched in days. "You're quiet."

"Throat hurts," Kirishima croaked out the lie, faking a wince. 

Kaminari jumped up. "I gotcha, dude. We left some water in your bedside table last time we came to visit."

Last time? Eijirou thought inquisitively. When was the last time they visited? How long ago? Had anyone else visited between then and now? He can't remember. 

Soon enough, the top of an open water bottle was placed at his lips as Kaminari gently tipped it back. The red-head whimpered in surprise, the back of his neck aching as he tipped his head back, the pain from his concussion coming full force as he swallowed the liquid. A sharp pain ran down his spine, causing him to jolt, which only fueled the sickening pain as it traveled through his stumps of legs. Paralyzed. He hoped he was paralyzed so he wouldn't have to become a hero anymore- though his lack of legs any already prove him useless. At least then, he wouldn't feel bad about giving up. Then, he'd have a real reason for quitting. Then, Bakugo wouldn't be angry at him, like he always was.

Kaminari gasped, nearly dropping the bottle on the injured boy's chest. He glanced down, the dull red catching his eyes as he stared at the bandages that dawned his chest. Mina and Sero had similar reactions, leaning over to see what damage had been done. 

"Kiri?! Are you okay, bro? What happened? Did you hurt yourself? Did I hurt you?! Oh, my god! Let's get Recovery Girl. Just relax, Kiri, we'll get you help right away, just stay calm! You'll be alright!" The blonde babbled, a horrified look plastered on his face as he raced to place the bottle down. Kirishima caught his wrist between bloodied, skinless fingers before he could run away form the bed.

The red-head was panting from exhaustion.

"No, no. I'm alright, Kami, I promise. Sorry to worry you guys. It's not a big deal, I-I'm fine, so, don't go get Recovery Girl, al-alright? I'm fine. I'm okay."

It did little to calm them. 

The water felt like sweat when it was slipping down his throat just a moment ago. Salty, like the tears he shed the day he was attacked, which he couldn't stop thinking about. Heroes never cried, especially not on the battle field. Kirishima didn't care how young he was, or how utterly terrified he was feeling as he was encased in flames and crushed by rumble. It didn't matter how alone he was, or how help was no where when he needed it most. His tears were in vain. They were stupid and a sign of weakness only for him and no one else. 

"Kirishima?"

They had been calling his name for awhile, but he had been too busy thinking about the hell-scape he had been stuck in a merely week-and-a-half earlier. He was glad the rest of his friends weren't there to witness it.

"Yeah?" He whispered, voice laced with fatigue and damage. 

"Are you okay?" Sero asked quietly, followed by Mina's head nodding. She looked scared. You did that, Kirishima tells himself, feeling his heart break even more than it already was shattered. You hurt them by being weak. "You zoned out on us for a few minutes there."

I'm okay, is what he wants to say. It's his initial reaction to the question and he can't help but fall into the default response, no matter how monotone it feels. His tongue catches in his throat. 

"Why is it so dark in here?" He asks instead.

It's silent. Kirishima can feel the way the bed creaked beneath his trembling left hand (it hadn't stopped shaking since that day) and can hear the crinkling of bed sheets as Mina slips off and approaches his face. She leans down until she can look him in the eyes, the only part of his body that isn't covered in white, apart from his mouth. He wants to cry.

"The fire hurt your eyes. Don't you remember? You had bandages over them for, like, five days. Bright lights will hurt them even more, so we have to keep them off. Okay?"

Kirishima does not remember that.

Then again, he can hardly remember what he had for breakfast. On that note, he can't even remember if he did eat breakfast. Hell, he didn't even know what time it was, or what day! 

"Okay," He whispers. "Where's Bakugo?"

Kirishima hates the quiet, but his blistered ears thank him for the obtuse silence as it gave them a rest. He wonders what time it was, because sooner or later, he's need someone to drop medicine into his ears and plug them with cotton balls. The cool substances always felt nice in his ear canal, as weird as it sounded. 

"In the common room," Denki says. "He's-... he's watching the news. The footage from when you were... hurt."

"Oh," Eijirou gasps. "Can you tell him to come up here? I haven't seen him in days."

Mina's eyes widened and Sero's mouth drops open. Kaminari is a mix of both as they sit there with those dumb expressions of their faces. Kirishima wishes they'd stop leaving him out of the circle. He just wants to know what was so surprising. 

"You-... but he-..." Sero stutters before comping his mouth shut. The other three look at him, but he merely breathes deeply and exhales, before smiling. "Okay. We'll go get him."

Kirishima smiles. His eyes are blank.

"Thanks, Sato."

Sato. 

Sato. Sato. Sato. Sato. Sato. 

"I'm not- I'm not Sato, dude. It's me: Hanta. Don't you remember me?"

Kirishima looks dumbfound for a moment before a smile once again graces his lips. Blissful ignorance plagued with innocence. He hums softly to himself before nodding slightly, a hiss of pain halting his movements. The spot of red gets bigger, but it falls upon blind eyes as no one seems to notice. 

"'Course I do," He slurs. "When did you get here?"

Sero leaves without another word to the red-head, stating he was going to find Bakugo. The alien-girl and her sorry excuse for a charging station friend watch as he goes, acknowledging the tears in his eyes before wiping away their own. Kirishima did not feel moisture in his eyes. He wonders what's wrong before closing his eyes, disoriented and dizzy. 

Ashido and Denki don't say another word, but Eijirou can see them holding hands, gripping each other tightly. 

"This is the second time," Mina says, directing her words to the blonde, as if Kirishima weren’t there at all. "Somethings wrong."

"He has a concussion. This type of stuff is probably normal, right?"

Kirishima opens his eyes and glances toward the two.

"Hey," He frowns. "Who are you?"

________________________________

Bakugo would have cared more if Kirishima had just died.

But he was alive, at least for now, and according to his doctors, he was doing fairly well. So, naturally, he let himself stop worrying about his classmate, and instead focused on furthering his hero training. It was difficult to move forward knowing the boy was injured though.

He couldn't fight against anyone else without risking injuring them. With Kirishima, he could go all out and not leave a single scratch, which let him climb the ranks in their class. He was getting better and better with each passing week all thanks to Kirishima's shitty quirk. He considered using Tetsutetsu as his practice dummy, but ultimately decided against it upon realizing he'd have to crawl his way to Class 1-B just to talk to the idiot. And there was no way in hell he'd be caught dead talking to that class, especially knowing Monoma was probably hanging around them at all times. He definitely didn't want to run the risk of running into him and starting a fight. 

Bakugo wasn't worrying too much. Soon enough, Kirishima would heal and the blonde would once again beat the shit out of him during training. As long as he was getting stronger, why the hell should he care?

That was his philosophy, after all. 

The others had this weird way of thinking that Kirishima and him were friends; that they were closer than anyone else was to the spit-fire. Bakugo had to hold back a laugh at the thought. No, he and the red-head weren't friends, no matter how much the shorter male liked to believe they were. He was merely another extra, just like the others. Just like Deku. He was nothing more than a stepping stone Bakugo wasn't afraid to use to get to where he wanted. Position as Number One Hero was not for the faint of heart. Katsuki knew this well. 

So, who cared if Kirishima was hurt? He'd be fine, and right back to his stupid old self again. The perfect person to use as practice- naive and overly-emotional. Bakugo hated people like that. 

He watched the news, and when he saw Kirishima's body being rolled out on a stretcher, he scoffed. Weak, was his first thought. What a weak bastard. Can't even keep himself unbreakable for more than a few seconds. How does he expect to be a hero when he can hardly take such a small-scale villain? What a joke. He hadn't bothered to ask about Kirishima's well-being since he had been released from the hospital. Obviously, if he were no longer there, he must be okay. Not that Katsuki cared, anyway. He just wanted his punching bag back. 

The spit-fire sensed a presence behind him, and he whipped around, eyes glaring with rage.

He was waiting for the intruder to wince back in shock or fear, as that specific gaze nearly always got people running for the hills. However, upon turning around, he was disappointed to see that tape-guy, who seemed to find the floor far more interesting. He cleared his throat, causing Bakugo to glare even harder.

"Hey, man, listen," Sero (Katsuki was surprised he remembered his name) said softly. The growled, not in the listening mood at the moment. He was about to tell the extra to scram when he was silenced. "No. Don't yell at me or whatever you were planning on doing. Just fucking listen to me!"

He had rarely heard the raven-haired kid cuss. 

Bakugo kept his mouth shut, intrigued. 

"What the hell do you want, you sticky fucker?"

Hanta sighed and shook his head, as if fed up. Bakugo examined the lithe boy, taking in the dark under-eye bags from worried nights where he couldn't bring himself to fall asleep. He was afraid for his best friend, who seemed to be getting worse and worse as the days passed. The incident today was proof of that. 

"Look, man, I know you don't like me very much, or anyone else for that matter, but this is serious so please hear me out. The rest of the squad is starting to think that Recovery Girl was right with her prediction. We don't think he has much longer. We know what the doctors said but... he isn’t getting better. He’s getting worse. And- And he wanted to see you, so please, will you go up and see him?"

Bakugo's world came to a halt.

"What the hell’re you talking about? What do you mean he doesn't have much longer? Fucking tell me, you idiot!"

Sero stepped back. "I am, dude, just chill. I don't want you goin' up there and scaring Kiri."

Bakugo scoffed and rolled his eyes, shifting off of the couch so he was squared up with the thinner boy, eyes blazing with vexation. He already hated this conversation and wished it would be over sooner, but he found Sero to be the slowest at getting to the point, and really just wanted to punch the kid so hard, he saw stars. He held his fist back. 

________________________________

Kirishima smiled at his visitors, unaware of their horrified, stalk-still forms as they stared on. He felt his breath hitch in his chest, but he okayed it off and smiled sheepishly. Adjusting himself quietly, his smiled widened in delight upon realized that the pain was going away. His skin was going numb. 

Eyelids feeling droopy, he held them open so he could look at his new friends.

"Mm... you guys are cool. I wish I was as cool as... as you guys, hm. Yeah. Super... c-cool."

________________________________

"Just fucking tell me. Now!"

The boy swallowed the lump in his throat and opener his mouth before closing it. He repeated this action three times before finally finding the right words. 

"You... didn't know?" He said softky.

Bakugo shook his head and clicked his tongue, annoyance radiating off of him like steam. Sero was smart to keep his distance. 

"Obviously not! Now, tell me before I beat the answer out of you."

Sero glared back just as harshly, fed up and exhausted. "I should have known you didn't really give a shit. We were all just idiots to ever think that you would care about anyone else other than yourself. And you know what? We fucking told Kiri to stay away from you when you guys started to get close, because we aren't as blind as you think we are, and we certainly aren't as stupid. You weren't even trying to hide how much you hated him, were you? You just cared about using him and eventually dropping him when he couldn't help you any more. Well, here you go, Bakugo, you fucking idiot! He can't help you anymore! And you would know why if you were listening when Aizawa told us about his condition. He's dying, you jerk. He's been dying ever since he got the attacked by that villain."

Bakugo's heart- if he had one- clenched. 

Dying. Kirishima was dying. 

The blonde sneered and shook his headache his anger rising. He could vaguely see the crowd of classmates conjugating beside them, watching on with worried eyes, as if they were afraid one of them might kill each other. And for once, it wasn't Katsuki with the blinding, murderous rage. No, it was Sero, who couldn't have cared less in that one moment, how scary he looked and sounded. Like a villain. Bakugo was honestly surprised about how the raven-haired boy had suddenly grown a backbone. Unfortunately for him, the larger male was also willing to beat it out of him. 

Kirishima was dying. 

It just him like a truck. Dying, as in, never to be seen again. Dead, as in, wiped off the face of the earth and sent off to some far-off place where Bakugo may never see him again. The blonde thinks back to Hanta's earlier words. He didn't have that much time left. 

Bakugo's fists clenched harder.

"Stop lying, flex-tape. He isn't dying. Kirishima isn't the type of person to just- just die like that, right? He's stronger than that."

Sero scoffed. "You should've told him that when he could actually understand it, because sitting by his side every night for the past week, all he talks about is how weak he was, and how much he hates himself for not being able to fight off the villain by himself. About how upset he is that he let you down. And he's too concussed to even understand half the stuff he's saying, and I'm sure if he knew all the crap he tells us, he'd be beyond embarrassed. He didn't even recognize me- thought I was Sato before I told him. I'm tellin' you, he doesn't have much time left, and you're here acting like the biggest fucking prick to ever walk the planet!"

________________________________

Denki and Ashido shared a glance before giving their attention right back to the injured boy on the bed as he stared at the ceiling, eyes glassy and unfocused. They frowned simultaneously.

"Kirishima?" The girl whispered softly, laying a hand on his cheek. The boy flinched back.

"R-Rappa! N-N-No, no. Don't touch m-me. Don't touch me, Rappa. Please, if hurts."

That was his usual reaction to touch, nowadays.

Mina felt her eyes grow moist as she leaned away, pulling her hand to her chest as if the boy's skin had burned her. "No, sweetie. It's not Rappa, I swear to you. You're completely safe. It's me, Mina, you're best friend. Do you remember? K-Kirishima?"

The red-head glanced towards her and his usual dopey grin returned.

"When did you get here?"

He was fading.

_______________________________

Bakugo growled. How dare this extra come up to him and insult him as if he were superior? No one was better then Katsuki Bakugo, especially not this sad excuse for office supplies. The fact that he even had to nerve to approach him with ill intentions was flabbergasting. And stupid, no doubt. 

"Don't tell me what I am. I don't care about any of you damn extras, and that includes shitty-hair!"

Sero, too, does not like the silence.

For whatever reason, he thought that maybe Bakugo would have the heart to visit who they thought was his best friend one last time before passing. Just to let him hear his voice say something soft and kind, even if it wasn't true. The plain boy knew it was to good to be true. He hated how no matter what they did, or how much they pretended to enjoy hanging out with Bakugo, Kirishima genuinely enjoyed his company. They all thought he did, at least. 

It all comes crashing down when Sero realizes that Eijirou didn't like Katsuki Bakugo. 

He loved him enough to put up with the abuse just so the blonde would have someone to lean on- to grow off of. The red-head cared enough about someone who didn't care about him to ignore the emotional and physical pain that went along with associating oneself with the explosive boy. Because that was the type of person Kirishima was. The boy wanted to see people happy; he enjoyed seeing other's faces light up with unadulterated glee or pride whenever someone good happened to them. So, it was no surprise when Sero (and he was sure the others realized in that moment as well) discovered that Kirishima truly didn't care about what happened to himself. 

He pushed Bakugo out of the way during the licensing exam because he knew if Bakugo didn't pass, he'd be heartbroken. It didn't matter much in the end, Katsuki didn't pass anyways, but that wasn't the point. 

The point was: Bakugo did not deserve the love Kirishima offered. 

And Eijirou, too nice for his own good, did not mind being pushed around, shoved to the ground, or verbally berated by his "best friend" if it meant the other was happy.

Sero feels sick.

________________________________

"We're gonna go get Bakugo, Kiri, okay? I promise, babe, we'll get him for you."

Kirishima was crying, and for whatever reason, begging relentlessly for the blonde boy, as if he meant the world and more to the red-head. To be fair, if seemed like he did, as the two were best friends. That's what it looked like, at least. The three others weren't as stupid as they seemed, and weren't oblivious to the toll their friendship was taking on Kirishima. They didn't miss the pain in his eyes ever since hanging around him more.

"Don't you worry, buddy," Kaminari swallowed down tears, eyes bulging. "Don't you worry."

________________________________

"Kacchan," Midoriya mutters, stepping towards the two. Sero looks towards them, sees the whole class watching on his shock, and then looks away, wondering how they all seemed to gravitate towards the drama before remembering they were in the common room, where everyone tended to hang out. He hates everything. "You can't really mean that. Kirishima is our friend- your best friend."

Bakugo scoffed for the hundredth time, if seemed. Sero glanced backwards at the sound of steps, seeing Mina and Kaminari approaching with disheartened faces. They froze when Hanta's eyes met there own. Two furious coulerons of rage stared back. 

The muscular boy crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the other students. 

"You're wrong, fucking Deku. Listen, idiots, and listen good! I don't have friends, okay? Kirishima was not my friend and I don't give a shit about what- what happened to him. So, if you'd all shut the fuck up and stop spreading lies about how I 'care' about him, or 'love' him, it would save me the time of killing you all! Understand?!" It's quiet. Bakugo's nostrils flare. "I said- do you understand?!"

"No."

Bakugo stepped back, the wind knocking out of him at the voice that cut through the air like a sharp knife, poised at the tip. He was not used to such a word- defying him, ridiculing him. People were prone to submitting to him and bending at his will the moment he looked close to anger, but never once had his stupid classmates had the guts to stand up to him. He hated it. He wanted to scream.

“No? The fuck do you mean ‘no?’”

“You heard me,” Midoriya seethed.

The boy could feel view ego drowning in a lake of despair as he quickly realized it was him against his entire class. And while his egotistical nature wanted to say that he could take them all without even breaking a sweat, the logical part of him knew he was cornered.

All thanks to shitty Sero losing his cool.

All thanks to shitty Kirishima who wasn't strong enough to hold his own.

All thanks to shitty Bakugo, who was a horrible friend....

A horrible person.

"Shut the fuck up, useless extras. You don't know shit about me! Or-Or Kirishima. So, mind your goddamn business!"

"Oh," Midoriya's eyes suddenly glazed over in anger Bakugo had never seen before. A look he saw on the regular when he looked in the mirror. Unadulterated rage. Indisputable vexation. It was something the green-haired boy didn't feel often, and hardly ever at his friends, but in the here and now, the past-quirkless boy could feel nothing but this horribly powerful and even terrifying emotion. He wonders how Bakugo could live day to day feeling such hatred towards the world. "And you know so much about Kirishima, don't you, Kacchan? More than us, right? But wait, you just said you didn't care about him, so how does that add up? How can you he angry at us for caring about his well-being, when you say you couldn't care less about him?!"

Bakugo sputtered. "What're you trying to say, idiot?"

Midoriya glowered. "I'm saying that you're a hypocrite, Kacchan. And-... and I thought maybe I could get through to you," The boy paused and shook his head after a moment of silence. "No, wait, that's not it at all. I thought maybe, since I couldn't help you, Kirishima could. He seemed like the best option considering you weren't a complete jerk to him, but I was wrong. You were worse to him than you were to the rest of us, and he never knew it.  Or he knew, but didn't care."

Bakugo snarled and shoved his hands in his pocket, prepared to rage out of the room if the conversation didn't end sooner. Besides, the extra's little attack dog was being reeled in by Iida, who placed a large hand on Izuku's shoulder to calm him. Pathetic. 

"Kirishima must be a dumbass if he thinks I ever liked him. Besides, you don't need to change me! I'm awesome just the way I am! So screw off, you nerds! You guys are the ones who need to change."

Iida shook his head from his place beside his smaller friend, and even Todoroki looked close to flipping his lid. Bakugo glared. He didn't even think half and half and Kirishima were that close. Definitely not close enough to argue over. But they weren't the only ones who looked to have murderous rage hidden behind their eyes. The others, too, look like they wanted to hurt the explosive boy any chance they got. Bakugo didn't understand. It wasn't like they actually cared about Kirishima, right? They were all here to become heroes, not to make friends. The blonde was being resourceful, using Kirishima to help strengthen his quirk. Who cared if it took a little false praise to get the other boy to continue training with him? All Bakugo had to do was tell him shit like "stay strong" and "don't break" and Kirishima was absolutely smitten. It was almost sad, really, how naive the boy had been. 

Now, he was paying dearly for his insolence and Katsuki found no room in his heart to feel bad. 

That's what he told himself, at least. 

"The point of being a hero..." A voice suddenly cut through the air, deep and graveling, as if the person's throat had been run through a mill. Bakugo gulped, but kept up his indifferent charade, even though he knew who had interrupted them and the repercussions. He clenched his fists together. Since when had everything started falling apart? "... isn't to be number one. It isn't to have the biggest fanbase in the whole country. It isn't to have people fawn over you, or to throw themselves at your feet. Being a hero doesn't mean you have to be the best at everything, and it certainly doesn’t require you to step on people like doormats. 

The point of being a hero, Bakugo, is to help people in their time of crisis, whenever everyone else turns away, they look for you. And if you aren't there to save them, then what does that make you? No one else here chooses to berate someone, and to hurt them, just to become better, and yet, they're just as good as you. Surpassing you, even. So, what makes you so sure that you aren't the problem?"

Aizawa-sensei was a scary man. 

Katsuki didn't find himself intimidated often, but in the presence of the darkened teacher, he found himself bending slightly in adjustment. Similar to how he allowed his mother to shut him up when he was being to mouthy. The last thing he wanted, however, for for the older man to be angry with him. His career was on the line, after all. 

"Aizawa-sensei..." Bakugo heard Midoriya whisper, and he founded on the brink of tears. The blonde held back a scoff. Weak. "What're you doing here?"

The teacher kept his eyes trained on his most angry pupil. 

"I was coming to check on Kirishima when I heard you all yelling. Quite the voice you have, Sero," The boy blushed, stepping back towards Mina and Kami, who looked worse for wear and utterly confused. The teacher shook his head and peered down at the floor as if it would open up and gobble him whole. "Bakugo."

The boy looked up at his name before glancing back down at the floor, gaze hardened. 

"What the hell do you want?"

Aizawa was quiet for a moment, taking in the sight of his most promising student, and sighed. He didn't want anything, really. He had all the information he needed to make a safe assessment, as bitter as it seemed in the end. Bakugo was going to become a hero whether he liked it or not, no matter who he stepped on to get there, and though it was his job to mentor and guide, Aizawa found that it didn't always work. 

"For you to show me what it means to be a hero."

Bakugo 'tsked' and shook the mop of blonde hair on his head, glowering at the floor as he clenched his fists impossibly tighter. Just who did Aizawa think he was, barging in here and claiming he didn't know what being a true hero was? He was the best hero out of all of them and it was painfully obvious. 

Why couldn't they all see that?

"Oh, yeah? And how the hell do you expect me to do that? Make me beat one of my classmates up in the arena for the hundredth time? Please, I know what being a hero means. I'm not an idiot."

Aizawa held back a laugh. He begged to differ. 

"It takes a strong person to become a hero."

"And I'm the strongest out of all these damn bastards! Can't you see that!? Or are you too damn blind to see?"

The older man shook his head and met the younger's eyes. Bakugo watched as they turned soft and sad. The same look someone had when they gave up in a training exercise. He had seen Kirishima pull it nearly every time before tapping out... so why was...?

"But it takes an even stronger person to say goodbye to someone they love."

Love. No, Bakugo did not love Kirishima. He didn't even like the boy, let alone love him. The spit-fire refused to even acknowledge the idea of loving anyone other than himself, considering that doing so would mean he was weak, and that was the last thing he wanted to appear as. Especially as an up and coming hero. And he wouldn't admit that sometimes, hanging out with the red-head had been enjoyable. Nor would he admit that seeing his smile light up every morning when he walked into the classroom and caught sight of his friends was one of the few things that brought a smile to his face. It was one of the rare occasions he didn't feel like punching the poor kid in the face, when he saw that smile. 

But he didn't love the kid. Kirishima was just a tool for him to use to surge forward, passed his classmates and passed anyone else in the entire school. You can't love something with such little value. Therefor, Bakugo couldn't have loved Kirishima the way Aizawa was implying he did. 

Goodbye.

Bakugo would have to say goodbye to Kirishima, and for whatever reason, that thought hadn't plagued his mind until now. It was goodbye forever, not a casual 'see you later' or anything of the like. Goodbye, as in, the finale. The end. 

_______________________________

He wonders what he did to be left alone. He wonders why they left him the way they did, crippled and bed-ridden, laced with melancholy nothingness. He wishes he could remember where he was. He wishes he could remember the name of the blonde boy, who he remembers nothing of except for hurtful words leaving his mouth followed by a punch in the face or a harsh shove. But when he thinks of the boy, he thinks “friend.” But real friends didn’t do that. They did gaslight or say horrible things for no damn reason other than selfishness. The red-head realizes just then that maybe he wasn’t as sorry as he thought. He was nothing. 

Kirishima has half the mind to push passed the pain and reach his arm around his body until it hands on the wire connected to the wall. The wire keeping his heart beating. 

Fingers shaking, grip weak, he tugs.

_______________________________

Bakugo forgets his way to Kirishima's room, and the others had to drag him by the shoulders to get him to stop waking. Forgets, but only because his gaze was so hardened and fixed on the space in front of him, he hadn't even bothered looking at the name plates outside their dorms. Kaminari, Mina and Sero stood at his back, watching as he tentatively  opened the door and stepped in.

"Hey," A voice stoped him. He turned around, catching Kaminari's eyes. "Be nice to him, man. He's not... the same anymore."

Bakugo nodded silently. 

Goodbye- that's what this was, wasn't it? 

________________________________

The room was dark and smelled like the inside of a medicine cabinet when Bakugo walks in. 

He knows Kirishima doesn’t like the dark. The blonde boy remembers teasing him endlessly over his slight phobia, even going as far as to tell him that he wouldn’t make much of a good hero if he couldn’t get into dark places without freaking out. The red-head had laughed, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Bakugo can remember the look in his eyes when he had said that, a hopeless look. 

Eijirou’s eyes are open, yet glassy and hindered with fog. The others had told him they had been slightly damaged in the fire, so he chalks up the far-off stare to his injuries. 

The boy is still covered in bandages, just like he was a week ago, when Bakugo first saw him after the fight. The first thing he notices is the red splotch of blood on his chest, but when he thinks back to the moments before this, he realizes that it must not be important if the others hadn’t done anything about it. Vaguely, Katsuki can feel Aizawa-sensei’s presence beside him as a chair comes to hit the back of his knees, causing him to haphazardly collapse into it. Perhaps the man wanted to say his goodbyes as well. His teacher stays standing, a hand on the blonde’s shoulder. It’s quiet, and as he ignored the tears welling up in his remorseful eyes, Bakugo recalls that Kirishima hated silence. 

“Well,” Aizawa says softly. “Talk to him. I’m sure he’d love to hear from you after not seeing you for over a week. He’s been talking about you nonstop.”

Bakugo can’t believe that the boy he abused and ridiculed for so long, wanted to see him so badly. Why? Why would Kirishima still love him after all the spit-fire had done to him? All the words that felt like bullets searing into his skin, worsening his already deplorable self-confidence. Bakugo was a firm believer in not hitting a man when he was down, and yet, there he had been, killing his only friend from the inside out with his own selfishness. It’s then that the boy finally realizes what made him and Kirishima so different from one another. Katsuki did what would aid him in the long run, while Eijirou did what would help others, no matter the repercussions that would go against his well-being. It was what a real hero would do. Should do. 

And so, Bakugo opens his mouth, but no words come out. He sits, gaping like a fish for a moment before gathering himself. 

Aizawa’s hand is warm.

“Hey, shitty-hair,” The pro-hero’s hand clenched painfully. He swallows. “Hey, Kiri. It’s me, Bakugo. You remember me, right? Eh, of course you do. It’s hard to forget a guy like me, right, Kirishima?” He wonders if he should bring up all he’s said in the past. He ponders apologizing, and feels the tears that threatened to fall multiply upon realizing he wanted nothing more than to say he was sorry before time ran out. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit you soon. There was no real reason, so I’m sorry for-for ghosting you like that when you just needed someone to talk to or whatever. That wasn’t very manly of me, eh? You always used to say crap like that, and I know I used to make fun of you for it, but I think it’s a real admirable thing to strive for. Besides, your version of manliness had nothing to do with ‘men’ at all, did it? All you cared about was doing the right thing. 

You know, there were a lot of things I hated you for, and I didn’t realize it until now, but that was pretty shitty of me. When you told me what happened in middle school, how depressed you were and how pathetic you felt, I told you that dyeing your hair wasn’t going to hide the fact that you may still be the same weak kid you were back then. I told you appearances changed nothing. But, looking back, I realize that if I had been in your shoes, I probably would have been upset too, if someone told me that. So, I-I’m-... I really-... what I’m trying to say is-... I’m sorry for being such a horrible friend.”

When his sensei’s hand doesn’t pull away, he knows he has more to say. But when he looks into Kirishima’s unblinking eyes, he can’t help but sense a feeling of unease run through him. The boy had yet to say anything and was laying eerily quiet, his arm swung off the bed lazily.

Bakugo gently takes a hold of the appendage and places it over his chest, but doesn’t let go of his hand. It’s the least he can do. 

“Keep going,” Aizawa’s voice is in his ear, but it’s softer. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

He must have noticed the tears. 

“And I want to let you know, that I love you. No matter what I ever said or did that made it seem like I didn’t, it was a lie. All of it. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known, and not just because you can take one of my hits and not break. You’re strong because you keep getting up, no matter how many times you fall. A-And I love you so much. Even if it didn’t seem like it, I did.”

Kirishima doesn’t say it back. Why isn’t he saying it back? The boy used to say it all the time, leaving no room for argument as he boasted about how much he adored and loved his best friend, who didn’t express it back. But now that he had, he stayed silent. 

So, why?

“You’re the best friend anyone could have ever asked for, and I’m sorry I couldn’t make you see that before. Please, answer me, so I know that you forgive me. Please, forgive me. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, oh, fuck. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you the way I did. Please.”

Bakugo let’s his eyes drift down, gripping the boys hand tighter to see if it excited a reaction. Nothing. Nothing but those buggy eyes staring back at him. His chest is still. 

“Kirishima?”

The blonde’s eyes crawl across the wall, pupils wobbling within their cage as it makes contact with the outlet. 

Empty.

“Shit.” Aizawa curses.

Bakugo hopes to any person who may be listening, that the ripped out plug had nothing to do with the fact that Kirishima’s armhad been dangling from the bed, hand dangerously close to the limp cord, as if he had...

“Kirishima?”

Notes:

I used to have a friend that kinda acted like Bakugo when I was younger, and for awhile I just summed it up her actions to her personality, but years later, I realize how horrible that was. Because her words did hurt, and they left a lasting imprint on me, whether they were jokes or not. I know his whole “angry” persona is somewhat supposed to be a joke, I still think he may hurt his friends with what he says. Once again, I don’t think this is how he actually acts, so obviously if isn’t really canon, but I like how this turned out.

Kirishima’s memory loss was due to head trauma, and we can see that he will remember some things, and then forget them in a matter of minutes before remembering again. And blisters on the ear-drum are real, I get ear infections a lot and that’s what happens to me.

Fell free to comment, leave kudos and save for later! Lots of love- Lara <3

Series this work belongs to: