The silence of his final blast continued to rumble away into the distance, ricocheting along the jagged ruins of what was once a hallway. Gray dust clung to the air like poisonous humidity and somewhere, in the resounding growl of silence, water dripped. A heavy clad boot stepped onto a chunk of concrete debris, the ankle rolled and Bakugou staggered forward, barely keeping balance. This battle had been a bad one, and in fact, it was still going on a few floors below them. He didn't want to think about the men who'd been in the line of fire when he went full Howitzer; all he could focus on was the fact that these guys had used men with no quirks. Men with no quirks were dangerous. Scared. Unpredictable in battle.
Men with no quirks often brought guns to compensate.
He turned his head to the left and gazed placidly at a green entrance sign that dangled by its working wiring. A light fixture flickered lazily beyond it down the hall. Blood tickled as it trickled down his right arm. Right now, adrenaline was still coursing through his system and the wounds didn't hurt. He wouldn't have cared if they did anyway; pain was just a nuisance.
It was the sound of a cough, soft and weak, that finally woke him up out of his contemplative revere of the entryway sign. Another cough, followed by one a bit wetter that ended with a soft groan. His eyes widened as he fought the surge of reality biting down on him.
"Kirishima!" The gray dust still hung heavily in the air. "Kirishima! Where are you?"
There was the sound of rubble falling, a groan and footsteps. "Ba…ku?"
"Kirishima? I'm coming… just… hang on, don't try to navigate this mess."
Bakugou extended his arms before him, his hands groping in the swirling abyss. The dust stung his eyes and he could feel the tears of irritation welling up into his eyes. "Where are you?"
"here," came the whispered answer. There, right there, just to his left was a familiar figure, distorted. Bakugou eased his way to him, careful of the flooring, his hands coming out with a cry of alarm as the body began to fall forward. They collided, Kirishima's forehead clipping Baku's chin smartly as they collapsed into a heap on the floor. A bit of light came through the diagonal gap a large fallen storage locker had left over one of the windows. It gave him enough light to grow confused and clumsy by.
"Kirishima?" Baku asked as they slowly began to untangle. "Kirishima? Answer me," he demanded quietly when he realized he was doing most of the moving. He felt yelling at a moment like this would be wrong. Rude somehow, in a way that would grate him. He leaned back as the red head lifted and it seemed as if Kirishima wasn't exactly sure how legs worked. His left struck outwards as he dragged his right to him. The heel of his boot caught debris and pulled it to him.
Baku took him by the shoulders and lowered his own head so he could get a better look at him. Fear again, that damn emotion that was a snare to so many good people. He couldn't see through all this dust and already a young man who idled at angry, he let himself grow enraged. He curled his upper lip, turned his face to that slanted bit of light and extended his left hand. "DAMN YOU, DUST!" As he fired off a blast, he felt Kirishima's head thump into his shoulder.
"Kirishima?" He grasped his friends face, pulling it back as fresh air flooded into the mangled floor of the building. More debris fell around the gaping maw of what once had been a large window. Light, now persistent with more space, flooded the area, causing Bakugou to squint. He didn't want to see what he was seeing, he didn't like what he was seeing. He didn't understand why he was seeing it. "You have a hardening quirk… why… how…" That beautiful bare chest was marred with three bullet wounds. It was obvious that though they hadn't been good shots, they had tried to aim for his heart.
Kiri lifted his face, a soft smile on his lips. "they were so fast… faster than me… but… you have to admit… dying this way… getting shot up… that's pretty manly…" He was having a hard time breathing.
"You shut up!" Baku growled as he continued to hold his friends face in firm hands. Fresh tears formed in his eyes, doubling his vision. "You're not going to die, moron! They're just flesh wounds! Just flesh wounds, do you hear me!"
A shaky hand came up, blood on the slender fingers as Kiri reached up to touch Baku's face. "It's okay," he breathed. "It's okay…" His eyes seemed to cross for a moment, his fine shaped brows furrowing with concern. "But you… you're hurt."
"Just shut up!" Baku cried out again. The dam of his tears finally broke and they fell freely along his dirty cheeks, cutting clean tracks in the grime. "Just shut up!"
Kirishima turned his hand slowly and cupped his palm around Bakugou's cheek. "It's okay," he said, forcing the volume of his voice to that of a normal speaking level. He had to as the strongest man he had ever known began to weep bitterly. He spoke with slow and chosen determination over the tears. "You had… to do it, Baku… gou… you had to kill them… them or innocent victims." His strength waning, his voice dipped back into a whisper. "you had to choose, them, or the innocent. A hero always chooses the innocent first; even above themselves."
Bakugou was shaking his head slowly, and Kirishima realized that the tears weren't for the trauma over the enemies his fiery friend had blown into dust, but for him. It lifted his heart and he gave him a wane smile. He listened to words choked out through the downburst of sorrow, his hand weak but still cupping his cheek. The tears that trailed over his hand and down his arm were warm. Warm.
"Fight… fight, damn you, fight," Bakugou ground out through clenched teeth. He couldn't see through the myriad of tears that continued to flow.
Fight. For a moment, even though Kirishima continued to smile weakly up to the blond, at this point all he could do was mouth the words. His head was beginning to swim and the edges of his vision were growing dark. There was no pain, however, and for that mercy he was grateful. He could hear the faint sounds of the battle below them but couldn't discern if it was because of distance or because he was fading. Instead of worrying about that, he focused his attention on the distressed face above him. One he continued to hold with a now trembling hand.
Cold. Those lips formed the word and Baku clenched the wrist holding his face. The fingers lost their hold and curled, the fingertips leaving a trail of blood to mix with the tears. The sensation of them tickled his cheek. "We'll be out of here soon, just hang on, don't go and do something stupid like dying or anything."
When those exotic eyes began to lose focus, and the lids began to close, Bakugou lifted the body up. He put his back against the wall and cradled his friend in his lap. "Kirishima, open your eyes," he ordered in a stern voice. "Open your eyes… Open your eyes, damnit and look at me!"
He shook his shoulders and then leaned down, using his upper body to try to share a little warmth with him. "Why did you have to have such a stupid costume design?" he whispered. "Baring your upper body like that? What were you trying to prove?"
"to… show them I wasn't… afraid of them," came the whisper. "not… afraid."
"no," Baku agreed. He leaned back and pushed his hand through those spikes and his heart ached. When Kiri had set his hair that morning he had been okay. Alive and well, not wounded and lying bleeding to death in the lap of someone who couldn't bare to face life without him.
"don't… don't…"
"What?"
"don't… mess up my hair…"
"You wish you looked good with spikey hair," Baku whispered. The light teasing pulled up the corners of Kirishima's mouth. Through all this, he continued to smile and be that light that kept Bakugou's darkness at bay.
"you… know I look… good," he breathed. His eyes were closed again and Baku reached down, tracing his fingers over that scar.
"Yeah, right." The scoff came out but there was no venom behind it; it was a scoff in name only. "Kiri… Eijirou…"
At the sound of his first name, the way it was spoken so boldly and with such familiarity, Kirishima opened his eyes. It took a little while for him to focus them. "Bakugou?"
"I think time is running out." Just the acknowledgement sent a spear through his soul. He closed his eyes as the pain welled up like a tidal wave, and then ebbed away slowly. "Say my name… let me hear it once."
Kirishima's smile faltered and tears formed in his eyes. A warmth crossed his face and he reached out to trail his trembling hand along Baku's cheek. "Katsuki," he whispered. Bakugou let out another choked sob, unable to hold it back as he leaned down close to him. He cradled the back of Kirishima's head as he brought their faces close. His tears splashed upon Kiri's cheeks, mixing with the blood and dirt and leaving odd trails.
"It's okay," Kirishima breathed as he closed his eyes and broke a long silence. He didn't realize that the sounds of battle below them had stopped. "I want it, too."
Bakugou lowered his head, tilting it just right as he pressed his lips to Kirishima's. He kissed him gently, with a tenderness that belied the raging heart that pounded with ache and regret. He wanted to confess, had meant to their entire first year together, but had procrastinated. To hear that Kirishima wanted it too was just cruel. A year wasted and now what? To die? Baku deepened the kiss, taking care not to aggravate his beloved's wounds while he tasted the essence of blood in his m outh. He was honestly afraid to break it. His first and only kiss would be over and then what? Darkness once again.
He broke the kiss however, because the curiosity of what he would see on Kiri's face was overwhelming. It was a smile, a look of endearment, satisfaction. Love. "Kiri… Eijirou…"
"katsuki…"
"I just… I've put it off too long. And now it's too late."
"please don't regret…"
Baku opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it. Time was slipping by. "Eijirou… I just wanted to let you know that I lo—…"
"Kaachan!" A concerned voice called out through the darkness. Baku's head snapped up, fire began to dance in his red eyes and a snarl curled his lip. "DAMN IT, DEKU!" He looked down quickly into Kiri's face, but the large catlike eyes were closed, his head turned slightly towards the sound of Deku's voice; his face relaxed. Bakugou let out a cry of rage and despair, the last thing he saw before darkness took his own vision away was Iida as he kneeled next to him with his fingers against Kirishima's neck.
Gunshot wounds weren't quirk induced wounds, and since they were projectile injuries, they had to go through normal channels before any special healing could be applied. Bakugou had awoken two days later to discover that he had undergone surgery to remove five of them from his body. Two right above the left kidney, one in his right shoulder, one in his left thigh and one in his left ankle. That one had been tricky and since so much of his energy had gone into allowing his other injuries to be healed, the more serious ones, they put a boot on his ankle. He wasn't pleased.
Kirishima… Kirishima… his mind spoke the name over and over like a possessed metronome that refused to give him peace. Outside of his hospital window, the sun began to set. The colors exploded over the horizon in a fanfare of fall and a promise of good things to come with the festival season around the corner. So many people would be having a wonderful time. He, however, drew ire towards such disrespect.
Have they cremated him yet? Will they let me have some of his ashes to carry with me? Surely they would… just enough to put into a tiny urn on a necklace. Keep him close to my heart. I almost told him I loved him… damn that nerd Deku… he ruined it, he took it away from me and Eijirou never got to hear my confession. He never got to hear me tell him that I loved him! He fired off a few rounds into his palm and then grimaced at the pain in his heart. His ankle throbbed, but he didn't care. Let it hurt. His world hurt, he was hurt right now and he didn't care.
With a groan, Bakugou closed his eyes and turned his face to the window as tears of regret and loss trailed down his cheeks. He let out a sigh, deep and harsh, and then another. It was all the sorrow he would allow himself to express. Gone. Gone. He's gone. He can't be gone. Balling his fist, he gripped the thin excuse for a blanket and held tight. His fist grew tighter at the click of the latch of his door.
"Go away, I'm in no mood to deal with anyone and if that's you, Deku, I'll deal with you later." His voice was a quiet growl, promising death and despair for anyone daring to get close to him, especially Midoria. At the sounds of steps growing closer to his bed, he closed his eyes even tighter. Probably his parents. They were the last people in the world he wanted to see. "I SAID GO AWAY!"
"You've got to be kidding me," a voice answered softly. It was warm and full of amusement. "You were so close to confessing to me and now you're trying to weasel out of it? I don't think so!"
Bakugou opened his eyes after a long moment of silence. When he turned his head to the left, his face softened in shock and then a mask of pleasant surprise. "You bastard, you lived…"
With a grin, Kirishima slowly opened his robe to show the bandages where he, too, had had to have bullets removed from his body. "So… about that confession?"
"You bastard…" Bakugou was silent for a long while, trying to discern if this were a dream, a haunting, or if he had died. When he moved to sit up and his body sang to him its song of agony, he realized that yes; this indeed was real. "I love you."
