Lyrical
Disclaimer: I do not own My Hero Academia.
Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Death
Pairings: Midoriya x Bakugou
Plot: Midoriya plays guitar at a bar. Some nights, Bakugou listens.
Ch 01: Ceilings
The door rattles and then emits a low chime as it opens, allowing a young man to duck inside out of the pouring rain. He shakes his head and shoulders, complaining under his breath as he strips off his soaked overcoat and hangs it by the door, before grumpily proceeding to the bar.
He's greeted by the usual bartender, ordering the same drink he always does, downing the first shot before turning around to face the stage, his crimson eyes gleaming in the dim lights flickering just above the bar.
Midoriya watches him from the stage, staring back at him for a moment before offering a little smile, their same nightly routine. On nights like these, when the small, dingy back-alley bar is nearly empty, he wonders if the blonde patron stops by merely for an after hours drink, or if it's him he's truly here for. Midoriya wouldn't know, not really. They've never spoken before. It doesn't hurt to pretend.
He's imagined it. Imagined what it would be like if the blonde would take his drink in hand and move to one of the tables beneath the brighter lights closer to the stage. What it might be like to watch those garnet irises illuminated to a burning, vivid scarlet, how his golden hair might shine beneath the lights, how he might catch a glimpse of that elusive smile.
His fingers move against taut strings, a quiet melody drifting through the air. He hums quietly along, casting his eyes down towards the guitar resting in his lap, held against his chest, cradled against his shoulder as a cherished, precious friend.
He can hear the rain outside on the cobbled streets, pattering relentlessly against the wooden roof, thunder rumbling somewhere in the far distance, a near inaudible growl.
The blonde stays until closing. He almost always does. After three shots and a tall beer his shoulders are looser than they first were upon coming in, and his steps are a little slower, more calculated, as if he has to concentrate on what he's doing so as not to misstep.
Typically by the time Midoriya packs away his guitar and steps down from the stage the establishment is empty, just him and the barkeep lingering behind to close up after him. Tonight however, when he lifts his eyes to focus on the door, the blonde is there waiting for him. He's frowning a little, his brow creased as he stares out into the pouring rain. He's muttering under his breath, and Midoriya smiles a little to himself before taking a step closer while calling out to him.
"The rain doesn't look like it'll be letting up anytime soon, huh?"
The blonde jerks a little, as if he's surprised at Midoriya's sudden closeness and voice. He stares at him for a moment, then gives a little shrug and mumbles, "Yeah, guess so. Not looking forward to walking back to the station and getting soaked…"
"The train station?" Midoriya asks, and the patron gives a little nod. He was right, the train station was several blocks away. By the time he arrived without an umbrella, he would undoubtedly be soaked.
The blonde hums an affirmative, and Midoriya looks out at the rain alongside him, then after a quiet moment offers, "My place isn't far from here. The bar's closing now, but if you wanted to wait at my place until the rain stops, you're welcome to?"
The blonde lifts his head, meeting Midoriya's eyes as if seeing him for the first time. Midoriya isn't sure if it's from the drinks he's imbibed, but the other man stares at him for a long, silent moment, then gingerly nods his head.
"Yeah. If you're sure you wouldn't mind, I mean."
Midoriya smiles, nodding his assent. "Of course! No problem. I stay up late at night anyway. It'll be nice to have some company for a little while."
The blonde blinks slowly, then nods a little and glances away, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as if unsure what to say.
Midoriya fills the silence for him, extending his hand. "I'm Izuku by the way, Midoriya Izuku. It's nice to meet you."
The blonde meets his eyes once more, then takes his offered hand, and in a low rumble replies, "Bakugou Katsuki. Likewise."
Midoriya's apartment is only a few streets away. They reach it with ease, huddling in the entryway together as Midoriya unlocks the door and then ushers Bakugou inside, closing the door quickly behind them. Both take a moment to strip out of their wet coats and kick off their shoes before continuing inside, Midoriya stepping closer to a small iron furnace and opening the side door to shove fresh firewood inside.
It doesn't take long for the apartment to start to warm, and Midoriya beckons Bakugou closer to the furnace while offering a friendly smile. "Would you like something to drink? I have coffee, and tea?"
"Coffee would be nice." Bakugou says quietly, his eyes on the furnace. "If it's not too much trouble."
"No trouble at all." Midoriya reassures, stepping towards the kitchen and leaving Bakugou alone, fetching cups from the nearby cupboard along with a tin of coffee. The blonde looks around the apartment slowly, shivering and reaching towards the fire, flexing his fingers against the rising heat. It was cluttered, and somewhat dirty, but it was warm and dry, and somehow felt safe.
Bakugou turned towards the kitchen as Midoriya started humming, adding water to a kettle then returning to the furnace, setting the kettle atop the flat stovetop just above the firewood door.
"There we are, now we just have to wait."
He took a step back from the furnace, then looked to Bakugou, who was watching him quietly. Midoriya arched his brow a bit, laughing softly, reaching up to rub at his nape.
"So…I've seen you before. At the bar, I mean. You come in pretty often." He let out a soft peal of laughter, then tilted his head slightly to the side, hesitating for a moment before adding on, "At first I thought you must live around here to come in so often, but if you're taking the train I guess I was mistaken."
Bakugou shifts a bit, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back on his heels, staring at the slowly steaming kettle. He's quiet for a while, then finally replies, "Yeah, I uh…" He reaches up, carding his fingers through his damp hair, and then carefully meets Midoriya's eyes. "Where you played before, it was closer to my place. I have to take the train now, but it's sort of on my way home from work, so I don't mind really. It's only a few extra stops."
Midoriya's eyes widened, and his breath caught in his throat. There had been another bar he had played at before, when he'd lived closer to downtown. Since moving to the outskirts of the city, he'd relocated his nightly performances to a local bar. He never imagined that a patron might follow after him.
Bakugou is watching him, Midoriya can feel it, but time's standing still and the moment seems far away.
"You don't sing." Bakugou says, and Midoriya meets his eyes.
"I'm sorry?"
"You don't sing." Bakugou says again, watching Midoriya with a little frown. "I've noticed that ever since you started playing here, you don't sing anymore. Why is that?"
Midoriya opens his mouth to answer, but the kettle starts whistling loudly, breaking whatever moment was caught between them. He grabs the glove from beside the furnace and carefully removes the kettle from the heat, taking it to the kitchen and setting it atop a trivet, going through the process of making coffee for them both.
Bakugou follows after him slowly, each step as quiet as the last. His hands are resting in his pockets now, his shoulders open, his expression indiscernible. Midoriya can't tell if he's angry about it, or upset for some reason. Maybe he's just curious. How long had he been coming to listen to Midoriya sing, only to be left wanting? A year at least, Midoriya thinks. He moved into his apartment over a year ago, in the spring.
He turns from the coffee to meet Bakugou's eyes, trying not to let the intensity of the blonde's gaze unnerve him.
"You remember that, huh?" He laughs a little, trying to cut some of the tension in the air, casting his eyes to the side. "I never got much positive feedback about singing along with my songs, so I just sort of…stopped doing it." He pinched his brow, shrugging, glancing up to meet Bakugou's eyes. "People come to hear the guitar, not the sound of my voice. It's my job to give people what they want, it's how I get paid-"
"You're wrong." Bakugou says, watching Midoriya with a little frown. "You're really good at it, singing I mean. The way you sing, the way you express each song, it's beautiful. It means something."
Midoriya's staring and he knows it, but he can't break away, he can't stop holding those crimson eyes.
"You take the lyrics and make them your own, as if they're yours." Bakugou adds on, gesturing lightly, his tone soft and deep. "As if you were the one writing them all along."
He's never heard anything like that before. No one ever complimented his voice, no one ever told him how much they liked the sound of it, or that they wanted more. If anything, when he sang at the bar people tended to turn away from the stage or raise their voices to continue their conversations. Never making eye contact, never interacting. So instead, Midoriya chose to simply fill the silence of the background, humming along quietly, the words he longed to sing trapped tightly in the back of his throat.
"I…" He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, searching Bakugou's eyes. "No one's ever told me that. Not ever. Not in my whole life."
"They should have." Bakugou murmured quietly, finally glancing away. "The way you sing is everything. I've wanted to hear it again, all this time. I came to see you, almost every night. I didn't want to risk missing it, if you finally decided to sing again."
Midoriya swallowed around the lump in his throat, blinking back tears, then he took a breath and asked shakily, "Would it be alright if I played for you now? Would you like that?"
Bakugou looked up in surprise, his eyes wide as he met Midoriya's eyes. "Really? You would do that?"
Midoriya smiled and nodded hesitantly, asking again, needing to be sure, "You really want me to?"
"More than anything." Bakugou whispered reverently, his expression softening a bit. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, then added gingerly, "Not to…to pressure you, or put you on the spot so suddenly. I just…I'll listen, if you want me to. I-" He closed his eyes briefly, taking a breath to steady his nerves, then he exhaled slowly, offering Midoriya an embarrassed little smile. "I'd like to hear you sing."
Midoriya's face was flushed, his heart fluttering in his chest. Seeing that smile, hearing Bakugou speaking so sincerely, it did something to him that he couldn't quiet explain. His fingers twitched against the air, and he licked his lips absently, swallowing thickly.
"Sure I…I'll get my guitar ready. Just give me…give me a moment."
They found seats opposite of one another on the floor beside the furnace, the fire burning within casting an orange glow across the floorboards and ceiling, the smell of fresh coffee and firewood thickening the air.
Midoriya rested his guitar against his lap, strumming slowly, pausing to take a sip from his cup before setting it aside again, returning his hands to their designated places before meeting Bakugou's eyes with a shy little smile.
"Okay. It's been a while. Go easy on me."
Bakugou didn't speak, simply watched Midoriya with a calm, soft expression, his lips turning up into a gentle smile.
Midoriya traced his fingertips over the taut strings of his guitar, closing his eyes as he began to play.
"Ceilings, plaster…
Can't you just make it move faster?
Lovely, to be sitting here with you…"
Midoriya opens his eyes, and glances towards the blonde sitting across from him, and the expression Bakugou is wearing almost makes his breath catch in his throat.
"You're kinda cute but it's
Raining harder…
My shoes are now full of water
Lovely to be rained on with you…"
The nights that follow, Bakugou continues to visit the bar, and at the end of the night when it comes time to close he waits by the door for Midoriya, and follows him home.
They spend their nights together, sitting beside the furnace, talking and learning more about one another, creating music and writing lyrics while sharing coffee and sometimes tea. Bakugou quickly becomes Midoriya's inspiration for almost everything, the bright light in his life, the person he thinks about when he wakes in the morning, the person he longs to be with when he closes his eyes at night.
Six months pass, and together they decide to purchase a vehicle to share between them. It allows Bakugou to visit the bar without worrying about the train schedule, and grants them passage to wherever they would like to go together on their weekends. They take road trips to the countryside for picnics, they travel to the coast to spend long summer days at the beach, and nights beside a campfire while tracing patterns in the stars.
A year goes by, a year of fond memories and friendship, and one night when Bakugou turns to the door to leave, Midoriya catches his wrist and asks him to stay. He's never known love like this, never knew a friendship could captivate him so fully, that another person, another soul, could entwine with his so perfectly. So perfectly.
Bakugou stays with Midoriya, shares his tiny cluttered apartment, holds his hand and presses kisses across his freckled cheeks, and Midoriya sings for him. He wants nothing more than to see Bakugou happy, and share in happiness with him. He loves all things about Bakugou Katsuki, but one of his absolute most favorite things is the gentleness of his smile.
They aren't perfect. They have arguments sometimes. There are miscommunications and misunderstandings, assumptions and jumbled emotions. Bakugou has a temper, and distrusts what he doesn't know. Midoriya is sensitive and defensive, and sometimes the things he hears and what is meant to be said don't match up perfectly in his head. When he spirals, Bakugou is there to catch him. When Bakugou rages, Midoriya is there to calm the storm. They balance one another out, a beautiful equilibrium, a natural symmetry.
They share their first kiss at the bar one night, all the tables near the stage empty except for a certain blonde patron. Bakugou stares up at him as he strums his guitar, enraptured, clinging to every word, and Midoriya sings for him, only for him, as if they were the only two people in the world.
"I love you." He whispers, cupping Midoriya's cheek, pressing their lips together once more. "I have loved you, I've loved you all this time. I just didn't know how to say it out loud. I didn't want to ruin this."
"You couldn't." Midoriya laughs, pressing closer and smiling bright, tears warm against his cheeks. "You're my best friend. I love you so much."
Another year, this time as lovers. They spend every moment they can together, keeping one another sane and whole. Bakugou's work wears at him, Midoriya can see it, can tell that something's wrong. Some nights when Midoriya sings for him, Bakugou looks distant. Four drinks turn to five. Then six. Then seven. Midoriya worries for him, but Bakugou insists he's alright. They walk home and cuddle up together, just like they always do, Bakugou cradling Midoriya's head against his chest, running his fingers through his dark curls.
"It'll be better. I'll get a promotion soon. The money is worth it, just gotta be patient…"
"Okay." Midoriya whispers, listening to his heartbeat, wishing he made enough money for the two of them to live without Bakugou working at all.
Another month. Then three. Then six. Bakugou's anger rises, and his frustration bubbles over into his relationship with Midoriya. He lashes out, he can't help it. Midoriya tries to be patient, tries to be understanding, but the strain becomes too much.
They take a break, try living apart. Bakugou focuses on his career, on earning a promotion, and Midoriya continues to play at the bar. Bakugou doesn't come to see him as often, he can't while working late nights for his boss. When he does show up, he drinks more than Midoriya has ever witnessed before. It scares him, watching Bakugou leave at night. Sometimes he's still tipsy, and Midoriya has to fight with him not to drive the car. He spends the night, takes the train home.
On colder nights, when he's lonely, Midoriya curls up with a blanket and his guitar in the back seat, and sings for him. He sings, even though Bakugou is there to listen anymore.
Bakugou finally earns his promotion, and things settle down for a while. He returns to the bar almost every night, and this time he sits in the front near the stage, the same table where they shared their first kiss. He sips at his drink, and listens to Midoriya with a gentle, affectionate smile, the stage lights turning his eyes to rubies and his tawny hair a brilliant burnished gold.
They hold hands as they walk home, Bakugou carrying Midoriya's guitar across his broad shoulders, his breath coming in little tufts of fog as he looks up at the starry skies and whispers about coming snow. About sharing the holidays together. Midoriya clings to his hand, looking up at him and memorizing the curve of his jaw, the way his throat bobs when he speaks, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles.
Winter covers the city in snow and ice, but Midoriya's furnace keeps them warm. They share kisses between discarding layers of clothes, woolen socks and knit sweaters, bundling up together under soft quilted blankets to share each other's warmth. Hot cocoa, and slightly burnt homemade cookies, laughter that rings throughout the apartment and bubbles up again and again, endlessly. Happiness and love, in an abundance to share between them.
After the holidays things change. Nothing that can be controlled, the economy is ever-fluctuating. Businesses close, people are laid off and replaced. It happens all the time, it's nobody's fault. Bakugou blames himself, drowns himself in alcohol and misery.
Midoriya does what he can to comfort him, to offer him support and stability. Bakugou leans on him as much as his pride will allow, but in the end nothing can console him. He tries to find another job, he tries for weeks to no avail. When the bar starts cutting Midoriya's hours as well they can barely afford to pay rent. They decide to sell what they can, and Midoriya starts busking downtown. Sometimes near the train station, sometimes on the streets.
In the end, the landlord ends up raising the rent to Midoriya's apartment, and they're forced to choose between leaving or being evicted for not paying rent. They sleep in their car, and with the last of their remaining money they make it to the coast. Midoriya busks on the beach and makes better money than they could have hoped for, given the circumstances. Eventually Bakugou finds a job at a local store, and Midoriya is asked to play at the local bar. They scrimp and save every last scrap until finally they're able to afford renting a room from the shop owner. They have nothing between them, save for an old worn out car, a well-loved guitar, and each other.
They've never been more content.
Nearly four years together, and now they were living at the coast, working simple jobs, enjoying their simple lives. Fireworks over the ocean, sparklers and shaved ice, salt-water taffy and watermelon slices, wading through shallow waves while hunting for shells.
Their landlord is kind, and gives them a substantial discount when purchasing items from his store. They're able to afford small creature comforts, new clothes, and a tiny tv with a vhs player. Some nights they watch old movies they've never heard of before, black and white dramas with fuzzy static and music from over a century ago.
Midoriya loves them, and learns how to replicate those melodies on his guitar over several weeks. He sings sweet love songs and heart-rending ballads on the sidewalks during the day, and croons softly into a microphone beneath off-white stage lights at night.
Bakugou has his place near the front of the stage, an echo of the table at the bar in the city. There are other locals who play at the bar, not just Midoriya, and so when the time comes for him to step down from the stage he joins Bakugou there, smiling and laughing quietly, holding his hand beneath the table, sharing french fries and a burger between them.
When they're home, and the landlord is fast asleep, they share everything with one another, exchanging soft kisses in the moonlight. There are curtains drawn across the windows now, but the moonlight always peeks through. It paints pale blue stripes along the mattress on the floor, brightening the cream-colored sheets they picked out together at the store, with matching pillowcases. There's a soft blue and white sea-shell embroidered blanket from a yard sale bunched at the foot of the bed, along with socks and sandals, and traces of sand from the beach.
Bakugou kisses slowly. Gently. Midoriya is always surprised at how gentle he can be. His voice strikes like thunder, his words can cut like ice or burn like a hot brand to match his temper, but any time they're vulnerable like this with each other, he always, always, takes things slow. Regardless of how badly some nights Midoriya doesn't want him to. Regardless of how breathlessly Midoriya might beg to be taken apart.
He cups Bakugou's face, staring up at him, tracing the pale stripes of moonlight highlighting his eye and cheek, his shoulder, drifting down his chiseled chest. His skin is warm and smells like sunlight, like the salt in the sea. There's traces of french fries on his tongue, the aftertaste of ketchup and sesame seeds.
"I love you." He whispers, and Midoriya knows, he knows, but oh how he loves hearing it. He'll never tire of hearing it, of feeling Bakugou's heartbeat racing against his palms, the glide of his skin as they move together, twine together as one.
"I love you." Midoriya echoes, his gasps soft and sweet, muffling his voice against Bakugou's strong shoulder before the blonde pulls him into a kiss. "I love you. I'll always love you, Katsuki."
Bakugou takes his hand, lacing their fingers, pressing him down against the dip of the mattress, tangling their legs in the sheets. "You mean everything to me. Everything." He whispers, and Midoriya believes it, more than anything. He arches his brow, and laughter bubbles up as he clings to those strong shoulders, as he searches endless scarlet skies.
"I want to spend the rest of my life with you." He whispers reverently, and Bakugou's expression softens, and he leans down to steal a kiss.
"I'm with you. I'll be with you, just like this." He squeezes Midoriya's hand a little tighter, muffling his moans with soft lips, and Midoriya clings to him like he can't breathe, butterflies fluttering in his chest.
Bedsheets, no clothes
Touch me like nobody else does
Lovely to just lay here with you…
You're kinda cute and I
Would say all of this,
But I don't wanna ruin the moment…
Lovely to sit between comfort and chaos…
Midoriya isn't sure when it happens exactly. It's just another day, just an ordinary day, and Bakugou receives a call from an unknown number. It's a lawyer's office, asking to discuss a settlement agreement for wrongful termination. Apparently somewhere in Bakugou's contract, and several other employees that were laid off from his previous company, there is a clause stating that they are entitled to a substantial amount of compensation, should they win their case in court. They ask Bakugou to come to the city for an interview, and given the amount of money they're proposing could be won, Bakugou readily accepts.
Midoriya tells him he has a bad feeling about it, about the whole thing. They've been so lucky, they've been blessed with so much. New jobs, a new home, new lives to share side by side together, forever. They shouldn't be greedy, they shouldn't go dredging up the past. Businesses go under, people are laid off that don't deserve to be, it happens. That's just the way the corporate world works. They shouldn't get involved.
Still, Bakugou insists that with the amount of money they could potentially be compensated with, they would never have to worry about their finances again. If nothing else, they could have a substantial savings account for emergencies, which otherwise would take years between the two of them to accumulate.
Bakugou packs a bag before heading to the city. Midoriya lingers beside the car as they say their goodbyes, Bakugou gives him a kiss and a flash of that untamable smile.
"I'll be back in a couple of days, baby." Bakugou teases gently, smoothing his thumb across Midoriya's freckles. "Will you miss me while I'm gone? You can always come with me, you know."
Midoriya pouts a little, frowning and leaning into Bakugou's touch. "I know, but the bar asked me to play this weekend. If I cancel now, they won't have anyone available to cover." He sighs and leans closer to press kisses to Bakugou's cheek and jaw, adding, "You could just call them up and tell them you've changed your mind." He pulls back a little, searching Bakugou's eyes. "Stay with me? Please?"
Bakugou chuckles softly, searching Midoriya's eyes. "This could be really good for us, babe. Trust me, okay? Let me do this. I want to do this for us. I want to be able to provide for you."
"You do provide for me!" Midoriya sighs, pouting as he continues on, "I know it isn't the same, that your job here isn't what you dreamed about, but we're together, and we're happy." He rests a hand on Bakugou's shoulder, squeezing lightly. "That means more than money ever could. That means everything. That's all we need."
Bakugou takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly, gently tugging Midoriya closer for another kiss. "I love you."
Midoriya kisses him back gently, murmuring against his lips, "I love you too, brat."
Bakugou grins and chuckles as Midoriya withdraws from the car, giving a wave out the window as he starts off down the street, Midoriya watching and waving after him. He crosses his arms over his chest, watching as Bakugou fades into the distance, shivering as a seabreeze passes by.
"Just a few days…" Midoriya murmurs to himself, turning back towards the front door. "It'll be alright. He'll only be gone for a few days. He'll be back soon."
It's been so long since they've been apart, Midoriya had almost forgotten what it felt like sleeping alone.
Thunder wakes him, flashes of lightning against a pitch black sky, no stars in sight. Rain continues pelting down against the windows, and Midoriya's heart is caught in his chest, tight and unforgiving. He reaches for his phone, checking for new calls or missed text messages. Nothing yet, Bakugou was likely still driving. He wasn't expecting to reach the city until the middle of the night.
Midoriya wraps himself up in the sheets and blankets they shared together the night before, watching the lightning streaking outside far, far overhead, unable to shake the hollow feeling seeping into his chest. He wanted Bakugou here with him now. He didn't want to be alone in their bed.
To distract his mind, he decides to turn on an old movie, his eyes tracing along the black and white frames in the dark.
He keeps replaying their last conversation in his mind, how he had asked Bakugou to stay.
It takes two days before he's notified of Bakugou's passing. A car crash on unlit roads in the middle of a storm. He'd never made it to the city at all.
The door rattles and then emits a low chime as it opens, allowing a young man to duck inside out of the pouring rain. He shakes his head and shoulders, sighing quietly as he strips off his wet jacket and hangs it by the door, before slowly proceeding to the bar.
The bartender recognizes him, though it's been years since they've last spoken. He orders a familiar drink, downing the first shot before turning around to face the stage, his emerald eyes gleaming in the dim lights flickering just above the bar.
On nights like these, when the small, dingy back-alley bar is nearly empty, Midoriya wonders how the bar manages to keep its doors open at all.
"Been a while," the barkeep says casually, watching Midoriya for a moment before shrugging towards the stage, "You plan on playing tonight?"
Midoriya's fingers twitch against strings that aren't there, a soft melody drifting through his mind. One that reminds him of firelight by a furnace, the scent of fresh coffee and firewood, and a blonde who isn't there.
"I haven't played in a while now." He whispers, and the barkeep hums quietly and turns away, returning to what he'd been doing before Midoriya walked in.
He takes his glass, then slowly stands from the bar, walking towards the stage hesitantly. He weaves through the messy arrangement of chairs and tables, until he finds the place where the person he loved most in the world would sometimes sit and watch him sing. He traces his fingertips across the weathered table, memorizing the dark rings carelessly left behind from sweating glasses, alongside a stain of something greasy embedded into the wood.
French fries shared between them, kisses that tasted like ketchup and sesame seeds.
He lifts his eyes to the microphone standing alone at the front of the stage, blinking slowly as he tries to process the emotions he's feeling. He isn't quite sure if it's grief, or anger, or regret. The loneliness that's consumed him, the guilt that's overwhelmed him. He should have made Bakugou listen. He should have never let him go.
His feet find their way up a familiar set of steps leading onto the stage, and he doesn't think about it as he goes through the motions of grabbing a guitar that is not his own and approaching the mic, tuning strings as he does.
There's no one in the bar, it's empty save for the bartender. He closes his eyes for a moment, then looks up towards the lights. This was their place. Their place. The place they shared their first kiss, the place they first spoke. The place where they spent their first years together, back before they knew they were in love.
He laughs softly, and it's a sad, broken sound, tears slipping down his cheeks.
He blinks them away, his breaths coming shaky as he strums the first chords, and he looks to that same place that Bakugou had always waited for him before, and he sees him as if he's truly there.
Scarlet eyes framed in shining gold, bright enough to rival a halo around his crown. He smiles up at Midoriya, smiles up at him with all the brilliance and love of a lifetime together, and Midoriya can feel brokenhearted laughter bubbling up in his chest as Bakugou's smile crinkles his eyes.
"Ceilings, plaster…
Can't you just make it move faster?
Lovely to be sitting here with you…
You're kinda cute but it's
Raining harder…
My shoes are now full of water
Lovely to be rained on with you…
It's kinda cute but it's
So short
Then you're driving me home
And I don't wanna leave,
But I have to go…
You kiss me in your car
And it feels like the start of a movie I've seen before
Before…"
Days passed where Midoriya simply stared at the ceiling, wrapped up in messy blankets and sheets with Bakugou's fading scent, unable to move, unable to think. Incapable of eating or showering, barely sleeping. Completely broken, completely numb.
Sometimes the landlord would come check on him, bring him food, put on one of his movies and then leave him be. Everyone mourns differently, everyone has their own way of coming to terms with death. It took Midoriya weeks to get out of bed, and even longer to figure out how to go about living life without Bakugou there beside him.
The lawyers that had contacted Bakugou about the settlement ended up finding Midoriya several months after Bakugou's unexpected death. As Bakugou's only listed dependent, the funds he had been allocated upon winning the case were subsequently passed on to Midoriya instead.
Bakugou had always wanted to take care of Midoriya, and provide for him. He'd wanted a promotion more than anything, he'd wanted them to have financial stability, and a nice apartment together in the city. Midoriya wished more than anything he could take it all back. He would rather live the rest of his life on the streets, sleeping in a car, with Bakugou beside him than the reality he now faced alone.
"Bedsheets, no clothes
Touch me like nobody else does
Lovely to just lay here with you…
You're kinda cute and I
Would say all of this,
But I don't wanna ruin the moment…
Lovely to sit between comfort and chaos…"
Midoriya took a shaky breath, blinking away his tears as a sob caught in his throat. He took a moment to breathe, reaching up to rub the back of his hand across his flushed cheeks, and when his vision cleared he realized he was looking out across the stage towards the nearby tables only to find Bakugou's seat now empty.
Instead, when he lifted his eyes to the bar, he saw a blonde patron sitting there, a drink in his hand, his eyes wide and his expression mildly concerned.
Midoriya never cried on stage like this, he never cried while performing. It was why he rarely sang along with his songs, because lyrics are powerful, beautiful things.
Midoriya had always been sensitive, and imaginative. This time was no exception.
"But it's over,
Then you're driving me home
And it kinda comes out as I get up to go…
You kiss me in your car,
And it feels like the start of a movie I've seen before…
But it's not real,
And you don't exist…
And I can't recall the last time I was kissed…
It hits me in the car
And it feels like the end of a movie I've seen before
Before…"
Midoriya's fingers move against taut strings as he hums quietly along to the fading melody, casting his eyes towards the door nearby. He can hear the rain outside on the cobbled streets, pattering relentlessly against the wooden roof, thunder rumbling somewhere in the far distance, a near inaudible growl.
The blonde stays until closing. He almost always does. After three shots and a tall beer his shoulders are looser than they first were upon coming in, and his steps are a little slower, more calculated, as if he has to concentrate on what he's doing so as not to misstep.
Typically by the time Midoriya packs away his guitar and steps down from the stage the establishment is empty, just him and the barkeep lingering behind to close up after him. Tonight is no exception. When he lifts his eyes to focus on the door, the blonde is nowhere in sight, the door emitting a soft chime to signify his departure.
Midoriya isn't quite sure why it has him feeling so empty. It's not like they're friends, not really. They've never spoken before.
Sometimes it hurts to pretend.
He's imagined it countless times. Imagined what it would be like if the blonde would take his drink in hand and move to one of the tables beneath the brighter lights closer to the stage. What it might be like to watch those garnet irises illuminated to a burning, vivid scarlet, how his golden hair might shine beneath the lights, how he might catch a glimpse of that elusive smile.
Has he ever smiled at Midoriya before?
Midoriya can't quite remember.
Maybe it's all in his head. Like a dream, or a movie he'd seen before.
He bids goodnight to the bartender, shrugs into his jacket and steps outside into the rain.
The streets are empty, the rain beating down heavily against cracked cobblestones.
Midoriya shoves his hands into his pockets, shivering against the cold, and begins making his way to his apartment, avoiding puddles as he goes.
Lyrics: Ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine
Thanks for reading! More to come!