alrighty this took like two whole months to write and went way out of proportion and beyond because i didn't expect it to be this long XD hope y'all enjoy!
**note: ichiban no takaramono (yui's version from angel beats!) by LiSA is an excellent song to listen to while reading this :)
**while writing this, i listened to it and almost cried so uh...
[season]
change
He makes it a point to get away. Get away, get out of Musutafu, Japan. I want to study culinary in the United States, he finds himself saying to his parents, three months into his third and final year at the private boarding school, U.A. High School.
He remembers the day he told them; it was a clear, blue sky kind of summer day. It was nearing fall, but not quite, so the trees were still green, with hints of gold.
Their expressions are startled. They expected him to be an engineer, doctor, like all his other classmates, but culinary chef? Unexpected. Nonetheless, they had supported him and he begins to study up on his culinary skills and schools in the United States. He picks a suitable college in California and began his resume building.
"Wow! That's so cool Kacchan!" his childhood friend, that damned Deku beams. "You're going to the United States of America!"
He snorts and leans back in his chair. "It's not like I've been fucking accepted. But why the fuck wouldn't they wanna take me?"
"Damn, I wish I was that smart!" lamented one of the extras—no, the yellow motherfucking Pikachu. "I'm just gonna stay here."
Kaminari Denki, he recalls. It's not that he doesn't know his classmates' names (he has an excellent memory), but he'd just rather not get personal with them.
"Kaminari-kun, what are you studying?" a pink haired girl bounds up to them, energy sparking off of her. Ashido Mina. A cheerful girl with pink hair and magenta eyes, who had cleverly and oh so easily wormed her way into being part of Bakugou's inner circle.
"I dunno yet. Maybe a engineer?" Kaminari muses idly.
He snorts again, running a hand through his spiky blonde hair. "Like you have the intelligence for that."
"Well maybe if you bothered to tutor me…!"
He gets up and leaves without listening to his friend's complaints. He's not in the mood to deal with his rowdy, loud classmates anymore.
On his way out, his shoulder slams into a figure sprinting into the classroom.
"Oi! Fucking watch where you're going…" His voice grows weaker, trailing off as he realizes who had bumped into him. A particular redhead, with bright crimson eyes that sends his heart to a stuttering stop. His blood freezes over as all annoyance in his brain disappears and goes blank.
Kirishima Eijirou.
"H-hey Kat—I mean, Bakugou!" the redhead yelps. "Sorry about that—"
He forces himself to snap out of his stupor and glares at Kirishima.
"Forget about it. Fuck off," is al he says before he shoves his hands into his pockets and walks out of the school.
He needs to graduate, to get out of Japan. Now.
The sky is bright blue, without a cloud in the sky. It's a summer day, but he's never felt more cloudy.
The letter arrives one month later, on a weekend when he's home from school. It's fall, with crisp, cool winds and fluttering orange-red leaves. It has yet to rain, but the sunlight is dim and there is more clouds in the sky.
He finds the letter on the table, and rips it open, to see his acceptance into the California culinary school. There's no sigh of relief, no burden lifted off of his back. There's only silence and something heavier dropping into his heart.
His parents hold a party, inviting all of his classmates, including a certain redhead that he didn't want to see.
He sips a cup of soda in the kitchen, snorting as he watched his classmates sing (and fail) at karaoke. Kaminari is acting like a dumbass, while his crush (he hadn't confessed yet, but everyone knew because he was extremely obvious), Ears—no, Jirou, watched on in amusement. Deku was singing a godawful duet with their class president, Glasses, while Half and Half Bastard lay back on the couch, an amused smile playing on his lips. Most of the girls were chatting in the corner and the other boys are flipping through the songbook for something to sing next.
"Hey Bakugou," a voice says softly next to him.
He tenses as he turns to look at Kirishima Eijirou.
"The fuck you want Shitty Hair?" he demands, although he hears the slight tremble in his voice.
He grips his cup tighter. Fucking shit.
Luckily, the redhead doesn't hear it and continues, "Just wondering if you wanted to come over and sing or something. It's your acceptance party and you should be having fun."
"It's not my damn party. That old hag just invited you shits over for a fucking laugh."
Kirishima doesn't flinch; he never did. He was all too used to his sharp retorts.
"C'mon Bakugou. It's our last year together," he says, offering his hand.
He stares at the proffered hand mutely. His treacherous, traitorous thoughts whisper, do it. Accept him again.
He looks up at the hopeful crimson eyes and feels his heart flutter, his stomach knot. He feels warm all over again, as he used to when he had been able to run his hands through Kirishima Eijirou's hair, kiss Kirishima Eijirou's lips, wrap his arms around Kirishima Eijirou's waist…
No.
"Fuck off," he snaps, slapping Kirishima's hand away. "And while you're at it, get all of these extras out of my house."
Once they're all gone, he goes upstairs to his room and throws open the windows, letting the autumn chill kiss his arms.
There's no satisfaction, no relief, nothing, when he reflects on his acceptance to culinary school. There's only a bitter taste in his mouth when he closes his eyes and sees the hurt expression on Kirishima EIjirou's face when he tells him to fuck off.
He pushes all thoughts away, only feeling numb, numb, number than ever before.
It's a cold autumn night and the wind brushes his arms. He doesn't feel it.
Graduation is a breezy spring day. It's early morning and as he arrives at school, there's round dewdrops on the fat green leaves. The little flowers have began to spring and he all but crushes them underfoot as he treks through the grass to the school gym.
As he reaches the door, his hand stops on the door handle and his eyes catch onto a small, little red flower growing in between the cracks of the sidewalk.
He crouches to look at it; it's a tiny little thing, with vibrant red petals and a soft green stem. Vibrant red petals that remind him of all too well of red eyes and red hair…
He gets up and steps on it, making sure to squash it harshly with his heel, before he opens the door.
It slams behind him with a thud.
"Bakugou!" Mina squeals as she runs towards him, diploma in hand, crying. "I'm gonna miss you so much!" she cries. Her arms wrap around him and a flush of warmth that reminds him of Kirishima makes him push her away. Fortunately, she isn't fazed and she jabbers something about 'missing him and everyone else', before whipping out her phone and snapping a quick selfie. Her eyes catch on one of the other members of his inner circle, Sero Hanta, and she shrieks with more tears and runs over to him, catching him in an embrace.
"SERO! I'M GONNA MISS YOU, YOU SWEETIE!"
"WAIT IS THAT A CONFESSION?!"
Bakugou rolls his eyes and turns away as Mina messily smashes her lips into a startled Sero's.
Kaminari claps him on the back, tearing up slightly, followed with a smirking Jirou. Momo and Iida were shaking everyone's hands. Uraraka was crying and was being held by Tsuyu. Finally, he lets his eyes rest on a Kirishima Eijirou who was chatting with his—their friends. He was wiping a tear from his eye.
He forces his eyes away and notices a flushed Deku with that damned Half and Half Bastard, who looks cool and calm as ever. They're holding hands.
About fucking time.
It's bittersweet, watching his classmates fall in love. Maybe several months ago he would've been happy for them.
He lets his gaze linger on the redhead again, and this time Kirishima Eijirou catches his eye and makes his way over. He tears his eyes away and pushes away through the crowd to his parents, where he gruffly says, "Let's go home already."
As he climbs into the car, there's a shout of, "KATSUKI!"
And then it all fades away.
It's a breezy spring day and everyone has a bittersweet taste in their mouth, nostalgia in the air as they begin their new lives, leaving behind all of their high school memories.
He only feels bitter, nothing sweet.
[rain]
start over; begin again
He arrives in California on a rainy spring day. It's pouring, dark, cloudy.
It's been one week since graduation. He's packed up and left, starting anew in a new country. As he grabs his luggage and walks out into the pouring rain, the scent of smog and the chatter of people fill him. Los Angeles is filthy, he thinks. It's cluttered with buildings, surrounded with trash, and it's just dirt, dirt, dirty.
It's nothing compared to his Tokyo, his Musutafu, back home in Japan.
He climbs into a taxi waiting for him and watches the world go by.
If he was here…
He would've loved the rain. He would've gone out and ran in it, and danced in it, and made him join him.
He shakes his head. He wasn't here. He was thousands of miles away in Japan, in Musutafu.
He had successfully escaped the heart stopping, beautiful Kirishima Eijirou, and now he was here. He was going to live, rid himself of that damned numbing feeling that had plagued him ever since they had ended it. Live, he wills himself to think.
He watches the city of Los Angeles, California go by, through the dirty windows of the yellow taxi and tries to admire the beauty of the rain, how it'll look alive once it stops pouring.
But despite it being the lovely spring season of growth and new life, that it was a spring shower that'll make everything alive again, he can't help but think that everything looks dead.
[summer]
unbearable
It's a sun beating, hot day. There's not a cloud in the endless blue skies and the sun rays beats down on him as he lounges in his dorm room.
He's sweating twice as much as he would've sweat back in Japan. He normally loves summer because hell, why not, but summer in California is almost unbearable.
He sighs, pulling off his shirt and blasting the fan at his bare chest. A cooling chill rolls through him, and he never thought he'd be so thankful for the cold rush of the fan (he always got into fights with that Half and Half Bastard back at home because at class sleepovers, they argued over whether the A/C or the heater should be on at night).
He glances over at the empty side of the room; his dorm mate has gone out to some party. Not that it mattered; they really only spoke once or twice a day.
He never tried to make friends and no one wanted to be his friend. It was a a sort of foreign loneliness that he found himself enjoying some days, and loathing the next.
He found himself to be quieter, refusing to speak unless spoken to. It wasn't that his English was bad; he was one of the more fluent speakers in his high school class, but rather, there was no one he deemed good enough to befriend.
And of course, no one reached out to him. Not like…
His mind lazily drifts to the cheerful redhead with his dumb sharp teeth and stupid red eyes…oh holy fucking Jesus.
He stops his inner ogling and slumps in his chair. There's an empty, numb feeling in his chest and the freezing of his blood. He feels nothing but cold now, and it's a warm summer's day in California.
Autumn in California arrives in December, with golden-brown leaves and orange red fire. It's a dimly lit day, with puffy white clouds and a sun that's neither warm nor cold.
He walks down the leaf strewn roads back to his dorm, reminded, remembering, his winters and autumns in Japan. He kicks a pile of leaves on the side of the road and watches them fly, flutter away. A brisk wind picks up and they carry away. He watches as they disappear into the open air, wishing his thoughts, memories could be like that. It's a liberating freedom he could never have.
A harsher wind blows by and he shivers, pulling his red scarf tighter around his neck. His eyes catch on the small cafe on campus, where students chattered and held steaming cups of coffee and hot chocolate.
His split second decision turns him into the warm atmosphere of the cafe, surrounded by the scent of coffee beans and chocolate. He gets in line and buys a hot chocolate, deciding to sit on a couch near the window.
Warmth escapes from the cup and into his cold hands, effectively thawing the frozen feeling in them. As he takes a sip from the cup, he gazes out the window. A view of red and gold trees greets him and for once, he allows his memories to overtake him.
[autumn]
to reminisce; a memory
It was fall in Japan, and first year, high schooler Bakugou found himself walking with his friends to the nearby cafe during lunch break.
"Guys, guys! Did you see the new Pokemon game release?" Kaminari yelled as he jumped into a pile of leaves.
"Tch. Leave it to discount Pikachu to know when he needs to go back to his world," Bakugou sneered. Everyone laughed and Kaminari pouted. "No seriously guys! The cover was to die for! I was salivating over it!"
"You salivate over anything," Sero snickered. "Especially Jirou."
Kaminari turned a shade of dark pink to match Mina's hair and everyone roared with laughter at the poor blonde hair boy.
"Oh you sweet thing you," Mina cooed, poking his cheek. "Always the butt of our jokes."
Kirishima elbowed his friend playfully. "Dude, you gotta confess to her eventually."
"I just met her!" Kaminari's voice rose to a squeak. "Besides, she's not gonna take me seriously!"
"It's been months Kami!" Mina whined. "I need a new couple to fangirl over."
"Find someone else!"
"Kaminari, be manly! Confess your feelings!" Kirishima declared loudly.
"That's rich coming from you! You haven't confessed either!"
The entire group froze, mid-step, as they turned to stare at the redhead. His face had gone bright red.
"Kiri~!" Mina sang, throwing her arm the boy. "Why didn't you tell me you like someone~?!"
"T-That's not the point!" Kirishima yelped, turning a deeper shade of red that rivaled his hair. He shot a pleading look towards the aloof ash blonde, who was ignoring the conversation.
"Hypocrite," Kaminari coughed.
Sero grinned, throwing an arm around his flustered friend. "So, who's the lucky girl?"
"I—ah…"
"Oi, get a move on you damn extras. I'm fucking starving," Bakugou snapped.
"R-Right!" Kirishima was the first to dash away towards the cafe, his face practically steaming.
"Pftt and I'm the unmanly one here," Kaminari chuckled, following the redhead.
Mina glanced at Sero and Bakugou, shrugging. "They have two more years." She proceeded to grab Sero by the arm and dragged him off to discuss who Kirishima's possible crush was. No one noticed as Bakugou's fists clenched and his scowl deepened, before he followed his friends into the cafe.
x
"Ah! I got it!" Kirishima grinned broadly as he shoved his math homework towards Bakugou. "Is this right?"
Bakugou skimmed his friend's answers, before he tossed it back to the redhead.
"About fucking time."
"Yosh! Alright, backside!" Kirishima flipped his paper over to work on the other set of math problems, while Bakugou lounged on his bed, already finished.
"Fucking hell. You're not done yet, Shitty Hair?"
"Sorry sorry!" the redhead apologized. "This is the last set!"
"Well hurry the fuck up." Bakugou rolls over on his side to check the clock on his bedside table. "I'm fucking starving. If you're not done in the next half hour, I'm leaving without you," he deadpanned, knowing his best friend's tendency to get distracted and end up spending two hours on a homework sheet.
"Ahh! Alright, alright!" Kirishima hurriedly began to scribble on his assignment, muttering to himself.
Almost ten minutes later, Kirishima glanced up at the ash blonde, who was facing towards the wall, mouth opened ask if to ask something.
As if feeling his friend's red gaze, Bakugou drawled out, "The fuck you want Hair For Brains?"
"Ah! Nothing!" Kirishima averted his gaze and began to write again, albeit slower than his previous pace.
Not five minutes later, he looked up again and Bakugou flipped over to glare at the boy. "Okay seriously, the fuck you wanna ask? At this rate, you're never gonna finish."
"Oh…uh…" Bakugou watched as Kirishima stumbled over his words, searching for the right thing to say, "I was…I was wondering if you ever thought about dating."
The topic hit Bakugou full on in the face. That was not what he was expecting.
"The fuck?"
"Well, I was just kinda curious about who you'd like to date—I mean, who you have a crush on! I mean you never talk about it, so it kinda just got me curious is all—"
"I'm pansexual," Bakugou deadpanned, rolling off his bed to sit in front of his stunned best friend. "I don't really give a shit about gender, just as long as they can fucking keep up with me."
At that moment, Kirishima's eyes lit up with hope; not that Bakugou noticed.
"Why the fuck are you—"
Bakugou was abruptly cut off by a pair of lips on his. He blinked, stunned at the sudden action. His brain began to run a million miles per hour, working out the situation in front of him. Shitty Hair, Hair For Brains, Kirishima Eijirou, his best friend, was kissing him. Shitty Hair. Hair For Brains. Kirishima. Kirishima Eijirou.
His heart pounded erratically as Kirishima Eijirou pulled away, expression downcast.
"I—I…fuck, I…you're the one I like, Bakugou. From the discussion last week during lunch break," Kirishima Eijirou lifted his red eyes from the floor to meet Bakugou's eyes. "Bakugou, I just— I really wanted to…never mind, forget it—"
Bakugou grabbed the front of Kirishima Eijirou's shirt and kissed him. The shocked feeling disappeared from Kirishima as he threw all inhibitions out the window and kissed Bakugou back. Bakugou's hands left Kirishima Eijirou's shirt and traveled towards the redhead's waist, pulling him closer. Kirishima's arms went around Bakugou's neck as they fell onto the floor, Bakugou's back flat against the carpeted ground.
They finally broke apart, both eyes wide and gasping for breath. Kirishima's lips broke into a wide smile, eyes soft and sparkling. Bakugou absentmindedly reached up and traced Kirishima Eijirou's cheek, and the redhead leaned into his touch, smile getting larger.
"Does that mean you like me too?" he whispered.
Bakugou's lips curled into a smirk, a smirk unlike any other. No, it was a smile, a soft, teasing smile, and Kirishima delighted in the fact that he knew he would be the only one to see that smile of Bakugou's.
"Fucking hell Shitty Hair. Yes, what the fuck. I like you too," he said softly, although in his usual Bakugou style. "And it's Katsuki to you now."
Kirishima's smile only grew wider at his words and leaned down to kiss Bakugou again. "Katsuki," he murmured almost reverently. "Katsuki…"
Bakugou had never felt so light, his heart fluttering and pounding like never before. He wound his hands through Kirishima Eijirou's red hair, admiring the feel of the red spikes, and trailed his hands down to Kirishima Eijirou's face.
"It's Eijirou to you now."
Bakugou felt a grin sweep over his face. "Eijirou. Kiss me again."
The now wrinkled math homework lay on the floor, undone, as lips came colliding again, again, again.
x
It was winter in Musutafu, and snow came down in small white tufts. It stuck everywhere; to the trees, the ground, the buildings, to coats and scarves and beanies. One small snow tuft found itself unlucky enough to flutter onto second year's Bakugou Katsuki's nose, who growled and swiped it off of him. Nearby, Kirishima laughed at the pouting, irritated expression on his boyfriend's face.
"You're so cute when you're upset," Kirishima said, as he unraveled the red scarf around his neck. He grabbed Bakugou's shoulder, ignoring his furious growls, and wound the red fabric around his boyfriend, smiling at the finished product.
"Tada! You're all warm now, Katsuki!" He leaned down and kissed the ash blonde's cheek, and he was pleased to see a warm flush appear on his cheeks.
"Tch. Fucking whatever," Bakugou muttered, turning away.
Thank you.
Kirishima merely smiled and grabbed Bakugou's hand, intertwining his fingers with his own.
"Let's get back to the dorms! Everyone is waiting for us!"
"What the fuck for? I just want to fucking drink hot chocolate and cuddle with my fucking boyfriend," Bakugou muttered.
His words caused a full blush to sweep across Kirishima's cheeks. "Well in that case! We can grab some of Uraraka's hot chocolate and head back to your room, how's that?"
"Fucking whatever."
"Alright! Let's go!"
x
Bakugou rested his head against Kirishima's chest as they curled up under a blanket on his bed, playing Mario Kart on the Nintendo Switch Bakugou got for Christmas.
"Ha! I fucking win!" Bakugou smirked. "Take that Shitty Hair!"
Kirishima groaned, burying his face into his boyfriend's hair. "How the hell are you so good at this?"
"I'm fucking number one at everything."
"Damn right you are, babe. Now, rematch!"
Four races later, Kirishima groaned and flattened himself against the mattress. "Fuck I give up! This is so unmanly…"
"Tch you suck, Shitty Hair."
"Stop rubbing it in!"
Bakugou leaned over his boyfriend's form and dropped the Switch onto the floor, before snuggling against Kirishima.
"One day I'll beat you," Kirishima vowed.
"Sure sure," Bakugou mumbled.
"Really?"
"No, because I love you, I may throw a match so you can finally shut the fuck up about losing to me."
Kirishima froze and pulled away to stare Bakugou in the eyes.
"Y-you love me?"
Realizing what he said, Bakugou averted his eyes and felt a faint blush dust over his cheeks.
"Yeah…"
They were quiet for several long moments, before Kirishima grabbed his boyfriend and crushed him to his chest, whispering, "I love you. I love you too. I love you so, so much Katsuki."
x
"I fucking love you too Eijirou."
x
"FUCKING HELL!" Bakugou swore as he viciously slammed the door, wheeling around to look at his teary boyfriend in the eye. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT EIJIROU?"
"Bakugou, I swear, I didn't—" Kirishima began, his voice trembling.
"Didn't fucking what? Didn't fucking mean to kiss that fucking silver shit headed fucker? Didn't mean to neglect me, your fucking boyfriend, for the past month, pretending to work on some joint class project, when really, you were with him?" he sneered.
"Katsuki, please—" Kirishima reached out to grab Bakugou's hand, hold it in his, to explain, but Bakugou ripped his arm away, crimson eyes blazing.
"Don't fucking touch me. Don't you dare fucking touch me after what you did," he hissed.
For the first time in their relationship, Kirishima flinched away from Bakugou.
They stood in silence, tension filling the air.
"Katsuki…?" Kirishima whispered, reaching his hand out for Bakugou's again. "Love, please look at me."
"Get out."
Kirishima froze. "Katsuki…"
"Don't. Just get the fuck out."
Something cracked in Kirishima's chest. "No, please, let me explain—"
Bakugou swung around, eyes blazing, and something red came flying towards Kirishima's face. He narrowly dodged it, and it hit the wall behind him with a soft thud. He turned to see what it was, feeling his heart sink lower and lower.
The red scarf he had given Bakugou on that cold winters' day.
Kirishima turned to look back at Bakugou. His eyes flashed with a cold loathing, and a broken sadness that tore Kirishima's heart into two.
"Get the fuck out." Bakugou's voice cracked at the last word, and he turned his face away. Kirishima caught sight of a single tear, a tear that slipped down the face of Bakugou Katsuki.
"If…If you're not gone from that spot by the time I turn around, I'll fucking kill you," Bakugou growled hoarsely.
There was no need for further instruction. Kirishima escaped through the door, his heart shattering into pieces, tears rolling down his cheeks. As soon as he was out and inside his dorm room, next door to the boy he loved, he collapsed onto the floor. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, letting the sobs wrack his body, as a muffled, shrill scream echoed in his brain, from the boy next door.
x
The soft, almost hesitant knock came at his door almost three days later.
Bakugou lifted his head from his pillow. He hadn't left his room in that span of three days since the fight, and he felt nothing but numb.
He gazed at himself in the mirror he had in the corner of his room, and wasn't surprised to see the sunken face, red eyes, messy blonde hair. He looked like shit and he knew it. Not that he expected anything else; he had done nothing but scream himself hoarse and let the tears soak up his clothes and sheets.
The knock came again, even softer than before.
Bakugou rolled out of his bed, almost reluctantly, and went to open the door. His hand paused over the doorknob, his heart catching in his throat. Without a doubt, he knew who was on the other side of the door. He swallowed down another lump in his throat and wrenched the door open.
His assumption correct: Kirishima Eijirou stood at the doorway. The redhead looked no better than Bakugou, his hair down, eyes red, clothes rumpled.
"Can I come in?" his voice a hoarse whisper.
"No." The word shot out of his mouth like a bullet, bitter in his mouth. "You talk here, or nothing."
Kirishima flinched at the harsh tone. He let out a shuddering breath, before meeting Bakugou's eyes.
"I think we should break up."
The words came out in a shaking whisper, and it punched Bakugou in the gut. All air had left him, leaving a numbing pain.
"I don't think we're the best fit together," Kirishima continued quietly. "I feel like—"
"You know what? Fucking fine. Fucking whatever," Bakugou snapped. He turned back into his room. "If that's how you feel, fucking fine."
"Katsuki, wait—"
Bakugou whirled back around to face Kirishima Eijirou, eyes blazing. "Fucking break up with me for fucking Tetsutetsu or whatever the fuck his name is. I fucking get it. It's whatever the fucking hell—"
Kirishima grabbed Bakugou by his rumpled shirt and slammed his lips onto his for a harsh, searing kiss. Explosions and warmth flooded Bakugou and he growled furiously, shoving the redhead away.
"Fucking leave," he snarled. "Go fucking make out with that silver shit bastard. He's clearly on your level, since you two are basically the same fucking person anyways."
Kirishima stumbled backwards at the low remark.
"Katsuki…"
"The name's Bakugou to you, Kirishima," were the last words that came out of Bakugou's mouth, before he slammed the door.
As soon as he heard the footsteps leave his doorway, Bakugou collapsed against the door, letting the harsh tears and choked sobs flow.
x
It had been a lovely spring day outside, with red flowers and green leaves. The sun shone outside, despite the gloomy tension and Bakugou finds himself cursing the too bright sun and the blooming red flowers that reminded him all too well of the love he had lost.
A tear drops down his face. And then another. Then another. He grits his teeth and furiously wipes them away. Stupid stupid stupid stupid.
He chugs the last of his chocolate, fighting the burn on his tongue and throat, and throws it away, along with all the memories that came with it.
[winter]
rash; weak
He curses himself for letting himself remember. The pain he had willed to go away had came back, throbbing and hurting as if everything had happened yesterday and not almost a year ago.
It's winter now, despite it being autumn almost three days ago, and the wind was blowing nonstop, the air ice cold, making it almost unbearable to be outdoors. And so he finds himself locked up in his dorm room, alone.
His roommate had left for the holidays, and he finds it relieving; his roommate had been jabbering all weekend, nonstop, about upcoming Christmas parties and gatherings and trips back home.
He sighs and grabs his phone to open a week old email from his parents. They had asked him to return home for the holidays, so he wouldn't be alone on Christmas or New Years, and had even offered to buy his ticket.
But he had refused, knowing that if he ever returned, he would be invited and forced to attend the annual Class 1-A Christmas party and he would see Kirishima Eijirou and well, Kirishima Eijirou was the face he least wanted to see.
He swears another string of curse words as the heater in his room goes off; the room was slowly returning to the frigid cold that matched the outdoors.
In an attempt to stay warm, he grabs the closest object next to him. A bright red scarf that smells faintly of a familiar cologne that Kirishima Eijirou always insisted on wearing. He grips it tightly, recalling how in that moment of weakness (or perhaps, just coldness), he had accepted the gift of the warm red scarf one year ago and had it ever since. And in another moment of rash decisions, a stupid case of homesickness, and the desperation for something familiar, he had ripped open the suitcase he hadn't touched in months and grabbed the red fabric, winding it around his neck, three fucking days ago.
Although the event had happened at a year ago, there's still a faint smell of something. It still smelled like Japan winter, of hot chocolate, the smell of his U.A. dorm room, and Kirishima Eijirou.
He lets off another string of swear words.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
He throws the scarf across the room and pulls a burnt orange blanket closer to his chest, in an attempt to ward off the cold of his room and to just feel warm again.
It's never worked before, but he wants to try.
[spring]
new beginnings; chances
Ding. He flicks a glance at his professor, before grabbing his phone and checking the notification.
U.A. Graduation — Fucking Today Fuck
Exactly one year since he's left Japan. He briefly wonders if he should feel shocked, stunned, at how long he's survived, but dismisses the thought. He's given up on feeling. All it does is hurt.
Ding.
He ignores the dirty looks his classmates shoot him and checks the new alert.
[One unread text message to: Class 1-A]
shitty hair: happy one year of graduation guys! :D
shitty hair: glad to see we're all surviving ^/^
He almost implodes at the sender, before he realizes it's to the old class group chat. Well, minus that shitty Grape Fucker anyways.
floaty: can't wait to see everyone at the reunion 2nite!
Fuck class reunions. Fuck this whole shitty thing.
raccoon eyes: hells yes sameeee
discount pikachu: gonna be lit af
stalker invisible shit: where's it at again? can't find the fancy invitation yaomomo sent out :/
fucking deku: my house! my mom is cooking for everyone so no need to eat before coming! ^-^
shitty hair: can't make it, sorry.
shitty hair: got other plans
soy sauce flat face: aw damn. hoping to get the whole bakusquad back together!
raccoon eyes: we can't anyways. baku is in america and god knows he's not buying a plane ticket back
discount pikachu: ahh you're right :(
floaty: so everyone but kiri and baku?
He mutes the chat and places his phone face down on his desk. Fucking useless anyways; he didn't care for class reunions and even if he did, he couldn't be there anyways.
He directs his attention back to the PowerPoint and scribbles down his notes.
Before he knows it, the teacher dismisses the class and he begins to pack up his supplies. His phone goes off again.
He raises an eyebrow. The hell? I muted the fucking chat…
[One unread message]
shitty hair: hey bakugou?
He's never shut his phone down so fast.
The minute he arrives back in the dorms, he throws his phone at the wall and swears at the top of his lungs, just like in Japan.
That motherfucker. Stupid, fucking Kirishima Eijirou.
He curses again and feels the urge to scream nonsensical things at the wall, but refuses and decides to take a walk to clear his damned brain of Kirishima Eijirou.
Without even bothering to pick up his most likely shattered phone, he yanks a hoodie on and sprints out the door.
He doesn't know where he's going. He just runs. He's running until he's sweating and heaving for breath and honestly about to vomit.
And then he just cries, cries because god fucking knows why and because everything fucking hurts and he can't fucking stop feeling.
He doesn't know how long he's been standing there, arms wrapped his torso and hunched over, broken sobs choking him. He wants to run, run farther and just go, but the tears blur his vision and he can only stumble around blindly before he finally gives up on going anywhere and settles against some shitty gray building.
It's sunny day out, and the leaves are green and flowers are blooming and there's a few lazy clouds in the blue sky, but all he can see is gray, gray, gray and color doesn't exist.
A random stranger places their hand on his shoulder and says something, but he can't hear it. He tries to shrug them off, tries to tell them in English that he doesn't need help, it's normal, I can take it, but something makes it past his struggling defenses.
"Is there anything I can get you?" the stranger asks. "What do you need?"
What do you need?
A simple question, but there's only a single image, a single, definite answer to that question.
He needs…he needs…
"Bakugou?" the soft familiar voice that he hated, loved, yet never expected to hear ever again comes from the person standing before him. The person he absolutely despised with every fiber of his being, and yet he adored with every inch of his existence, heart, soul, mind.
Un-fucking-believable.
Another sob shudders through him and Kirishima Eijirou quickly gets to his knees and wraps his arms around him. He lets himself wilt into the other's arms, barely hearing the quick exchange of words between the stranger and Kirishima Eijirou.
He can't be strong anymore.
The stranger's footsteps fade away and suddenly the world is narrowed into him and Kirishima Eijirou.
"Bakugou," Kirishima Eijirou whispers. "Hey. Hey. What happened?"
"The fuck you think?" he tries to snap, but it comes out broken and weak. He hates himself for it.
Kirishima Eijirou shakes his head. "I—I don't know—I wouldn't know unless you tell me, Bakugou."
"No." His voice comes out sharp and cold, Kirishima Eijirou flinches back (hell, even he's taken aback at how cold he sounds).
Mustering up what little dignity and bravado he had left, he swipes his arm across his eyes, before he shoots a menacing glare at the redhead.
"The fuck you doing in here in California anyways? Go back home," he says.
"I came to find you," the other says simply.
"How'd you know where the hell I am?"
"I…" he hesitates, before he finally answers. "I asked your mom. She told me where your school was."
He growls, raking a hand through his hair. He was going to murder that old hag.
"Okay, you fucking found me. Go the fuck home," he hisses.
"No. Not without you," Kirishima Eijirou snaps back with a surprising bite behind his bark.
"Leave me the fuck alone. You don't fucking belong here, Kirishima. Go home!" His voice, hoarse and shaky from tears, turns into a shout.
"You ARE my home!" Kirishima Eijirou screams back.
He freezes at the words. Fucking liar, the voice in his head screams. Liarliarliarliar.
"I stayed in Japan! I stayed with my parents! But it never felt like home! I lost you! I fucked up—well no, we both fucked up! This wouldn't have happened if you fucking let me explain to you what happened! Fuck, I lost you and I hated—I still hate myself because I—" He stops himself in the middle of his sentence, breathing hard as he stared the other down, red eyes on red.
He's yearning to know more, more about the feelings of the young man he hates, adores—no. Hateshateshates.
He absolutely despises Kirishima Eijirou. And yet…
He lets his hand drift over to a startled Kirishima and cups his face tenderly, a stark contrast to his violent actions in the dorm.
Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Don't.
He pushes the little voice in his head away.
Just let me fucking have this. Just once. I'll give him this chance.
"You what?" he breathes. "Tell me."
He can see Kirishima Eijirou's eyes up close. They're bright red, yes, but there's darker crimson flecks within them, and a deeper depth of pain and regret, with a softer tint of…
"I'm still in love with you," Kirishima Eijirou whispers without hesitation.
It's all Bakugou needs to hear. He crushes his lips against Kirishima Eijirou's, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck. The familiar sweet taste fills his mouth, along with the musk of the cologne he always wore, ever since high school.
Kirishima Eijirou kisses back with the same passionate intensity that he loves, that he always loved. Hands roaming through hair, over bodies, tongues sliding in and out.
When they finally pull away, faces flushed, he whispers, "I fucking hate you."
But he knows he doesn't mean it. Never does.
"I know," Kirishima Eijirou whispers, before he captures his lips again.
Spring is new beginnings. The sun begins to show its face again, in its bright, shining glory. The flowers begin to bloom, in radiant colors and full blossoms. The dark, gray clouds begin to disappear and the only remnants are drifting bits of white fluff.
Spring to Bakugou Katsuki was a reminder of things he couldn't have, that nothing could last, and that really, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape.
But a spring to a Bakugou Katsuki that had a Kirishima EIjirou by his side, reminds him that although you could never really begin again, you can make amends and take your chances with the change that comes your way.
Spring that had a Kirishima Eijirou by his side tells Bakugou Katsuki that he always has a chance to love, to be loved, to feel and give, instead of know numbness and take.
And really, seasons do have their beginnings, but they always end.
Bakugou Katsuki knows how to get away, how to escape.
But with a new spring, with Kirishima Eijirou by his side, he learns how to stay.
the ending is a little iffy to me, but i needed to hear/write that and i feel like a lot of people need to hear that as well so there it is :)
hope everyone enjoyed!
- love, soul