Bakugo stood still on the front door step and watched the rain pouring down around them.

The girl's had been right. They could barely see the road in front of them. But they couldn't go back inside now. It would be damaging to their fragile pride. The girls would just ask more questions and Bakugo would have no answers.

But how in the world would they get anywhere in this downpour?

Bakugo shoved their hand into their bag and frantically searched around for their umbrella, but of course, since the world seemed to be entirely against them as of late, their hand came out empty.

Dammit. Of course I left it at home.

Bakugo stared out at the rain for a few moments more before taking one more deep, ragged breath, and with no other choice, stepped out into the pouring rain.

The sound of each droplet hitting their body was like a hammer being slammed against a piece of wood. The water soaked into their borrowed black hoodie, making it cling to their body. Bakugo knew by the end of their walk, the rain would most likely wash out the last bits of lingering scent that had clung for so long onto the jacket. But Bakugo didn't really care, because right now, they wanted all traces of that boy out of their mind.

Does he actually…

But if he does care, then why did he leave?

Why does he feel like a stranger?

What is with all these mixed signals?

"Why do you have to make things so hard, you stupid shitty hair?" Bakugo growled quietly.

Despite the loud thundering of the rain pouring down around them, the only sound Bakugo could hear was the blood pounding in their ears as panic slowly started to flood their body, like the rain around them was being soaked into their skin and filling each organ with dirty rain water, forcing them to gasp with each breath, struggling for air.

Their whole body tightened up, making Bakugo hyper aware of every nerve in their body. Each contact of a raindrop on their skin was like a shock of electricity rocketing throughout Bakugo's entire body. It was disorienting and painful, without actually causing physical pain.

Bakugo didn't want to go home yet. They weren't sure they could deal with their mother's loud yelling at the moment. Too many thoughts and questions were swirling through their head to have another voice trying to dig its way in.

But Bakugo wasn't sure where else to go from here. Usually when they wanted to escape their mother, they went to Kirishima's house, but that didn't seem like an option right now. So instead of going anywhere in particular, Bakugo just walked. And walked. And steadily, slowly, that walk quickening into a pace, and then a jog, then a run, and eventually it escalated into a full on panicked sprint. A sprint to nowhere.

They ran as if somehow doing so would allow them to run away from the strange feelings inside their head and the pounding and throbbing in their heart.

Bakugo would run somewhere so far away, that gender didn't exist, and emotions were a foreign concept. The people didn't ask confusing questions, or try to intrude in other's heads.

Maybe if they ran far enough, all the people, the person, who was causing all these issues would be too far away to catch them. Bakugo would have the head start once again, and that dumb, brainless, selfish, good for nothing boy would never catch up. He'd be the one left behind this time, not Bakugo. He'd be the one with the questions that had no answer.

Bakugo blocked out all the sounds around them as they ran. They block out every object, every person. They ignored the confused couples they passed, huddled close together under their umbrellas. They ignored the cars that flew by carelessly on the road. They ignored the women who called out to ask if they were okay.

Bakugo wasn't sure how long they had been running, but it felt like hours mixed and faded into moments as emotions crashed through their brain like a wrecking ball, until everything tumbled and twisted around them. The world seemed to flip on its head. Then, there was suddenly feeling in their body again, and Bakugo realized all at once, they were in a heap on the cold wet pavement.

Bakugo looked down.

They had somehow tripped over the curb and scraped their knees. Badly. Two large holes had been ripped in their jeans where they had fallen, and the skin of their knees were a mangled mess. Bits of asphalt and small rocks were stuck in the deep scrapes. Dark crimson blood was mixing with the clear, wet rain as it dripped down into the stinging wounds.

Bakugo carefully picked themselves up off the ground. Through the adrenaline, they couldn't really feel any of the agonizing pain, but it was a struggle to stand up nonetheless. Their whole body wobbled and swayed with each movement of straightening their spine, until they were fully standing.

Collecting themselves, their brain still numb, they looked around at their rain soaked surroundings and took in exactly where their legs had carried them.

It was a familiar place, yet one Bakugo hadn't really paid much mind or attention to in years.

Bakugo had run all the way to the old playground.

Bakugo stared at the rusted equipment through the rain and felt a deep, undeniable ache in their chest.

Things had been so much simpler when they had played on that playground.

Back then, the biggest worry was simply what was going to happen that day. Tomorrow was a dream, not a question. It was always who'd they be playing with tomorrow, or what they would learn tomorrow. Never, who they had to see tomorrow, or what they had to learn tomorrow.

Bakugo slowly limped over to the playground equipment and ran a hand thoughtfully down the old yellow slide. The faded sunny paint chipped slightly beneath their fingers and stuck to their wet hands, revealing the rusted old metal hidden beneath it.

With a sigh, Bakugo sat down on the end of the old slide, not caring how the rain slid down it and onto their already soaked black jeans. They curled their legs tightly up against their chest and buried their head in their knees.

After fighting so hard against it for so long, the sight of the playground was all their mind needed to finally give in to the panic, the endless numbness, and Bakugo started to cry.

Maybe it was the pain in their knees. Or perhaps it was all the pent up stress from the past year. The loneliness. The confusion. Maybe it was all those things, but in that moment, surrounded by old memories, it all seemed to mix together and come crashing down on their shoulders all at once. It felt as if they were carrying the weight of the entire world on their shoulders. So many years of damned up emotions came flooding out as their body made up for all the choked back tears and bottled up grief stricken sobs.

Their warm salty tears mixed with the ice cold rain until neither was distinguishable from the other. Just a mess of useless water streaming down their red face.

Bakugo's sobs were harsh and vicious, unlike the quiet, controlled tears of anger in the bathroom stall. Each sniffle and hitch shook their entire body along with their shivering from the freezing cold rain. The tears running down their face were tears of sadness, guilt, disgust, rage, loneliness, agony, numbness, anxiety, confusion, despair, embarrassment, bitterness, emptiness, fear, jealousy, pain, and panic.

Every negative emotion Bakugo could think of was all packed into each tiny tear that slipped from their tightly shut crimson eyes. A condensed droplet of expression, hidden from the world for so many years behind a mask of anger.

It was strange to Bakugo how at a time, crying had seemed so foreign and forbidden, a show of weakness. Now it seemed to be a place of equal comfort and agony. It was despair in the same way it was hope. It was a relief in the same way it was an aggravation. A promise in the same way it was a lie. A calm in the same way it was a storm. It did nothing to help sort out the questions and emotions, but it seemed like background music to accompany all the chaos roaring inside their head.

It gave a theme for all the anxiety that Bakugo experienced in this past year. If the tears did answer any questions, they answered the question of what it felt like to be trapped in a reality that you didn't, couldn't believe was your own, a body you weren't sure was your own. They answered what it felt like to experience new pain and new emotions after you had become so accustomed to the ones that you knew so well.

The fog in Bakugo's brain was like a raging storm. The most Bakugo could do to try and sort it all out was talk aloud and attempt to pick apart that chaos, even if just a little bit.

What am I to Eijiro?

A friend?

Family?

A girl?

What does Eijiro Kirishima see when he looks at Katsuki Bakugo?

And what does Katsuki Bakugo see when they look at Eijiro Kirishima?

That question lingered in Bakugo's head above all the rest. A terrifying question that made it seem like the world was caving in around them, like a large crowd slowly moving in closer and closer, surrounding them and yelling for Bakugo to give them a clear answer.

I see…

I see someone who left me when I needed them most.

Someone who is slowly disappearing.

And I can't catch them.

"Someone who leaves me crying alone in the bathroom."

The words were quiet and soft on Bakugo's lips as they thought back to that day.

Everything might not be quite so confusing if it weren't for that day hidden in a bathroom stall.

If it weren't for those four chimes of a phone. That familiar text tone.

That day Bakugo had been crying alone in the bathroom.

Things would have been easier to understand if Kirishima's phone had been turned on silent.

The familiar chime tone had echoed through Bakugo's head as they sat in that bathroom stall. Their bag had been in view of the door and Kirishima was a smart enough kid. He could have put together the pieces of who exactly had been in that bathroom.

So if Kirishima had known…

"Why did you leave?"

"Why did you leave me alone when you knew I was hurting?!" Bakugo lifted their rain and tear streaked face up to the sky. They didn't care that the droplets splashed into their eyes. Their vision had already been blurry from the tears.

"Why did you leave me alone!?"

Bakugo's desperate, agonized yelling was almost completely drowned out by the thunderous sound of the pouring rain.

"You stare at me in class, save me like some damsel in distress, and check to make sure I'm okay, and you have the absolute audacity to fucking leave me in a bathroom stall?! What kind of a friend do you think you are!?"

"What kind of person looks you dead in the eyes and says they want to help you, and when you need that help, decides they don't feel like giving that help anymore!?"

Bakugo's throat began to feel dry and sore as they continued to yell at the world. Hoping that wherever Ejiro Kirishima was, maybe he would hear it.

Maybe he would hear the pain that Bakugo was experiencing. Maybe he too would feel that deep emptiness and panic and realize what he was doing to the girl sitting alone on the slide in the pouring rain. Maybe then he would feel remorse.

"Then you decide to disappear from my life and forget every fucking promise we ever made! What makes you think you can just pack up and leave me behind?!"

"Why did you have to make everything harder than it already is?! Force me to be alone in a world that I don't understand?! Can't you see that I'm dealing with enough of my own shit right now?!"

"You…" Bakugo softened their scratchy, hoarse voice.

"You're a fucking joke, Ejiro Kirishima." Bakugo whispered to the rain.

"And so am I."

"Emotions never made any sense to me, and here I am, being told that women are more in touch with their emotions than men, and yet I can't make heads or tails of what's happening in my own brain."

"So why?"

Bakugo fell silent and listened to the rain pouring down around them, it had lightened a little but still fell consistently from the heavens around them. It fell with an almost mocking rhythm around them, like a soft symphony of unrecognizable sounds as each drop made contact with a different surface.

There wasn't a dry spot on Bakugo's body by now. Every piece of fabric clung uncomfortably to their skin, making every curve and dip in their body clearly apparent as the cold pierced them right down to their bones. The open wounds on their knees stung and burned with every drop of rain that came in contact with the torn skin.

Bakugo buried their head in their knees again, ignoring the ferocious stinging pain that came from doing so, because at the moment, it paled in comparison to the agonizing throbbing deep in their heart.

"Hey, if anyone out there is maybe listening, I don't really care who, but I have some questions to ask." Bakugo sniffled.

Of course, there was no response. But Bakugo had expected that. Despite that fact, they kept talking aloud to the lonely playground.

"Why me? And what are these things I'm feeling? Why does my heart throb when I think about him leaving me behind? Or asking Ashido to the dance instead of me? Why does it make my stomach sink like a ship and make my brain churn like a washing machine?"

The world seemed to go quiet for a moment as the initial question, the hardest one to answer, clawed its way back into Bakugo's mind.

"What do I see when I look at Eijiro Kirishima?"

Bakugo squeezed their eyes shut as tightly as they could and peered into their dark mind. It was packed to the brim with burning fire and emotional garbage, but they searched for the quietest corner of the swirling mess and concentrated on what was there.

Old memories.

Old faces.

Old promises.

Old friends.

They did their best to focus as long as they could on that one memory. A memory that meant so much to them, yet seemed so far away, as if it had come from a past life, or another time.

They envisioned the old slide, brand new and shining in the sun.

A swing swaying happily in the wind.

Smiling faces as the children laughed and played.

A small child in a red overall dress.

And a small child in a white, fire truck t-shirt.

What would that little kid do now?

If that small child were to look at Katsuki Bakugo, what would they see?

If they could speak with Bakugo right now, sitting in a depressing heap on the edge of the slide, feeling sorry for themselves, caving in on the fact that they were scared, what would that little kid do?

They would grab your shoulders and tell you to shut up.

Make you promise to do better, or they'll kick your ass.

They'd pull you up off this slide and tell you to promise.

Promise to try harder.

Fight for what you believe in.

Face your hardships head on.

Because you make those decisions for yourself.

It'll be a tough road, but no one's ever been able to stand in your way before.

So who can now?

Bakugo stared up at the old playground around them. The rain had all but stopped now and the sun was setting behind the houses. It glowed warm and yellow, reflecting gently of the few unrusted pieces of the playground equipment.

It was beautiful, almost mockingly so.

Bakugo basked in that warmth for a moment, trying to absorb as much of the sunny positivity as they could.

I need to go home. Mom is going to kick my ass for being so late.

Bakugo slowly unfolded their legs from their chest and went to stand up.

Only the second they tried, they received a harsh reminder of their panic in the form of nauseating pain, and immediately fell down hard on the wood chips covering the ground.

Fuck! FUCK!

Bakugo cursed slightly, harshly.

How could they have forgotten?

Bakugo quickly reached for their phone inside their bag, but the screen refused to light up. It was dead.

"Dammit!" Bakugo cursed.

They were trapped in another hopeless situation.

In a heap on the ground of a public park, soaked to the bone, bleeding all over the place, a puffy red face stained with tears, and no way to contact home.

Humiliated and confused.

Bakugo tried to signal to one of the few cars that passed by the lonely road, but none of them stopped.

"Assholes." Bakugo growled and felt tears threatening to start up again. "Fuck, not again."

Bakugo buried their wet face in their hands.

And right as Bakugo thought they had pulled themselves together for a bit, maybe found that little ray of hope. Now here they were, helpless and alone.

Just like in the bathroom stall.

"Hey Universe?" Bakugo sniffed. "Can't you just give me one moment to experience a little bit of clarity? A few minutes to take a break from the world and bask in the warmth of some happy old memories and a nice sunset?"

Bakugo lowered their head, a single tear breaking through the floodgates once again. "Is that really too much to ask?"

"Katsuki?"

"Go away. I'm tired of dealing with all this." Bakugo muttered.

"Katsuki? Are you alright?"

"I said go-"

Hold on.

That voice. Hadn't Bakugo heard that voice before? It had an unfamiliar sense of urgency and fear, but it was comforting. Bakugo knew that voice, right? It sounded so familiar. Was it coming from somewhere behind Bakugo? It sounded like a guy's voice.

Bakugo lifted their head to face the speaker, but reeled backwards when they were blinded by the light of the setting sun. Peeking through their fingers, Bakugo could make out the silhouette of a large young man crouching down and reaching a strong hand out towards Bakugo.

Bakugo squinted, trying to make out the face of the person reaching out.

Slowly, keeping one hand up to shield their eyes from the light, Bakugo reached a hand out to meet the man's outstretched one in return. They weren't sure why, but for some reason, they trusted him.

It all felt strangely familiar, but Bakugo wasn't sure why. But as Bakugo's finger brushed the tips of the reached out hand, they suddenly remembered why.

A dream.

A face from a dream.

And as Bakugo finally grabbed hands with the boy crouching down in front of her, the dream made sense.

"Katsuki? What happened? Are you okay?"

Bakugo starred up into those concerned, crystal clear, red eyes.

Beautiful, ruby red eyes that belonged to a stranger.

A stranger that Bakugo knew the name of.

And that name was Eijiro Kirishima.