Warnings: Mentions of child abuse and non-graphic self-harm.

Late.

That was Bakugou's response when Kirishima asked him what time he was going to be back at the dorms. It was a vague answer, but Kirishima didn't expect anything less. His classmates were still enjoying their week off and most of them wouldn't be back for another two or three days. Kirishima had returned early when one of his moms had caught a particularly nasty cold; one he didn't want to catch himself so he left as soon as he could, spewing out apologies as he did so. But the dorms were empty. They were quiet and lonely and he was starting to think that maybe suffering through the stuffy nose, wracking coughs, and constant chills would've been a better option. That thought changed when a certain explosive blonde mentioned that he was going to be back early as well. Suddenly, the dorms being empty didn't seem like such a bad thing if he was going to hang out with one of his best bros.

So, 'late.' Kirishima could do 'late.' How late could Bakugou of all people possibly mean, anyway? He went to bed before everyone else and woke up before everyone else. Maybe 7:00 pm or 8:00 pm? Surely 9:00 at the latest. Easy. Kirishima would stay up 'late' and then whine and beg Bakugou to stay up even 'later' to watch a shitty movie together, eat snacks, and have a proper movie night. Bakugou would complain the whole time, Kirishima was sure of that, but he would never get up and leave. They often didn't get to hangout with just each other and, even though Bakugou was getting better at accepting the presence of his classmates, he still chose to opt out of any events or gatherings. Kirishima doubted that anyone liked to be alone as much as Bakugou claimed he did, but never pushed the topic. Instead, he sought out opportunities like this one. Bakugou could get in some much needed socializing and Kirishima didn't have to sit in the dorms with only himself as company.

Soon 7:00 pm ticked by and then 8:00 followed by 9:00. 10:00 came and went, and it was at that point Kirishima discovered that maybe 'late' actually did mean late. Bakugou didn't answer any of his texts, but that wasn't surprising so Kirishima just waited in the common area, resting on the couch closest to the window that looked out to the street. He allowed himself to doze off, thinking that even if the movie night didn't happen, the least he could do was see Bakugou return.

It was about quarter to 12:00 when he woke up to the sound of muffled yelling coming from outside of the dorm and it didn't take him long, even with his sleep-clouded brain, to recognize the yelling was Bakugou. It wasn't alarming, really. Yelling was pretty much his constant volume of speech, but it did make Kirishima perk up enough to look through the window to see what exactly he was yelling about. He could see Bakugou standing by a car, evidently in a screaming match with whoever was inside of it given the sound of another voice yelling back just as harshly. Kirishima knew that whatever was happening probably wasn't his business, but that didn't stop him from pulling on his hoodie and heading outside anyway.

He had just stepped out of the building when Bakugou slammed the backseat door shut, the yelling having escalated in that short time, overlapping with obscenities and insults. "You need to start figuring your shit out, Katsuki! All you've done since you got to this school is fail or have things handed to you!" Kirishima froze his stride, expecting another verbal onslaught to come spitting from Bakugou's mouth, but nothing came and suddenly Kirishima felt like he wasn't allowed to view this very public argument. His skin crawled and he felt the hair on his neck stand up, his heart skittering behind his ribs as he debated on turning around to slink away. He could pretend this never happened, that he didn't see or hear a thing, and everything would carry on as normal as far as Bakugou would be aware.

But then he saw Bakugou's fists and knew he couldn't leave. Clenched and shaking at his sides, his pointer finger picking at his thumb's cuticle. A subtle gesture, but one Kirishima had picked up on having seen the results many times before - bloodied, scabbed skin around Bakugou's nails after an outburst or times when he refused to admit to having difficult days. "Do you have any idea what it's like to have people ask me how my son is doing!? How embarrassing it is for me!?" The voice cut through again. His mom, then. Kirishima had never met Bakugou's mom. He had only seen her in passing or heard her yell through the phone's speakers if Bakugou even bothered to answer the call. It wasn't like Bakugou didn't yell back, of course. Bakugou called his parents words Kirishima wouldn't even dream of calling another person, but he had passed it off as a family dynamic. A bizarre family dynamic, but who was he to judge? "Don't even think about coming home until you can stop being so ungrateful!" Kirishima felt his back stiffen at the words in time with Bakugou's.

It all felt wrong; surreal. Kirishima knew he was lucky. He had a loving family he could turn to when he needed. He had parents who had supported him even through his rough patches. Parents who loved and accepted him no matter his choices. The red hair had been a hot topic in his house for awhile, but he was never once met with criticism. He was allowed to fall on his own, learn from his mistakes, because he knew someone was always waiting for him back home.

Hearing Bakugou being told not to come home stung. He could only imagine how Bakugou felt.

The car sped off before Bakugou could reply and the air instantly felt too fragile, like Kirishima had been dropped into the middle of a frozen lake with too thin of ice. There wasn't a step he could take that didn't result in the ice cracking under his feet forcing him to sink into the frigid waters, so he took the plunge. "Bakugou?"

"What." It was a statement, not a question, and his tone was so harsh that it very nearly made Kirishima flinch just hearing it. It felt too violent for the quietness that surrounded them. Bakugou's shoulders rose and fell a few times as he took in shaking breaths. He shook his head and turned around, glaring hard at Kirishima. "No, actually. I don't want to hear it," Bakugou snapped, walking forward to close the distance between them. "You didn't see shit." The words were snarled into Kirishima's face and a finger jabbed into the center of his chest, prodding his sternum with enough force for him to step back. The intimidation technique didn't work on him, not anymore.

"Is she always like that?" The heat of Bakugou's eyes faltered and it looked like he was waging a war with himself, as though the question caught him off guard and he didn't know the right way to answer. He scoffed.

"It doesn't matter." The flippant answer genuinely shocked Kirishima and he shook his head in disbelief, fixing his friend with a firm look.

"Yeah, dude, it does."

"It doesn't. It doesn't fucking matter and if you tell anyo—" Bakugou's words halted when Kirishima reached out without thinking to gently touch the bruising on Bakugou's cheekbone. It was a faint red mark colouring under his eye, almost faint enough to miss under the dim light coming from the dorm, but the skin was warm and inflamed under his fingertips. Bakugou froze and now - now - the heat in his eyes completely died out.

"Is that from her?" Kirishima didn't need an answer. The way Bakugou tensed like he had been caught doing something wrong was his answer.

"No." He said it too quickly. Immediately. He said it like it was a practiced response, like it was the correct answer, like it was the only answer, and like it was an answer he had been giving every day of his life. It was second nature and Kirishima didn't believe him. Not for a second. Bakugou swallowed and it felt as though Kirishima's heart was sinking in his chest. His hand was batted away and the red eyes were cast to the side when Bakugou tried his answer again. "It doesn't hurt."

"That's not the point," Kirishima said, "You need to tell someone." A bitter laugh dropped from Bakugou's mouth and he sneered.

"Do you really think anyone would give a shit?"

"Hey—"

"Do you think anyone would care? I'm not a fucking idiot, Kirishima. I know what people think of me." Kirishima took in a breath and his throat constricted at Bakugou's words.

"No, I know, dude. Just—"

"It doesn't matter how good my grades are or how hard I train or the fact that I don't fucking run off and do that stupid shit half of you assholes do. It doesn't matter because if I bring up any of this shit, it's just her putting me in my fucking place." Bakugou's breathing came out a little heavier, more ragged, and Kirishima could see the sheen in his eyes though he would never point it out. "It's justified."

The words cut into Kirishima more than he ever thought they could. It felt like a red-hot knife was stabbed into his stomach on Bakugou's behalf, and he could only imagine how many of those knives had been stabbed into Bakuou's over the years. He prayed Bakugou didn't actually believe what he was saying, but there was a nagging voice in the back of his head reminding him that Bakugou rarely said what he didn't mean. "It's not."

"It's fucking shitty ass parenting at its finest." Bakugou shrugged his bag onto his shoulder and looked at Kirishima once more, gaze set and determined to end the conversation. But Kirishima was already stepping out onto the ice even though it groaned and creaked beneath his feet in protest. He couldn't turn back. He could only move forward.

"That's not parenting," he said and Bakugou rolled his eyes.

"I said it was shitty—"

"That's abuse."

The explosion that erupted from Bakugou's palm seemed to even startle himself, filling the air with the familiar smell of scorched earth and burnt caramel. Kirishima's quirk activated on instinct at the sound, though the blast was aimed somewhere at the ground a few feet away. Bakugou recovered first, shocked eyes narrowing back into their familiar scowl. "I'm not fucking abused, shithead!" He opened his mouth to say more, his jaw snapping together so tightly that it was a wonder he had any teeth left with how hard he clenched. A pained expression crossed Bakugou's face and a pained feeling crossed Kirishima's heart. "I'm not… It's not… It's not like that. That sounds bad." The way he spoke sounded doubtful like it was a new concept he was trying to process. Kirishima let go of his quirk, his brows furrowed in confusion at Bakugou's choice of words. Of course it was bad. No shit it was bad. It didn't make it any less true.

"It is bad," Kirishima said before he could stop himself, taking another step out onto the ice, ignoring the cracks spreading out like spiderwebs. Bakugou's eyes flashed dangerously and he snarled again.

"You don't think I can take her? You think she fucking scares me? She doesn't! She's just this colossal bitch who knows I won't hit her back." Kirishima nodded his head along with Bakugou's words, not wanting to fan the flames anymore than he already did, but desperately needing his friend to acknowledge the severity of the situation. He needed the fire to burn itself out, to reduce to smoldering coals, before he could approach again. "We fight," Bakugou explained when Kirishima didn't respond, filling the uncomfortable silence with words. "It's what we do. I get mad, she gets mad. I yell, she yells! It's always been like that! That's life! It's not a big deal!"

Kirishima kept his mouth shut and anger washed across Bakugou's features as the flames burned brighter. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this! I already told you that it doesn't matter! Do you have any idea how many people have it worse off than I do? Lots. Thousands. Why the fuck should I be moping around when I have it so much better than so many others? My life is fucking fine!"

"It can still hurt, though."

"I told you it doesn't hurt!"

"Inside, I mean," Kirishima elaborated. "It doesn't matter if someone has it worse than you. It can still hurt. It's allowed to hurt." Kirishima paused, studying Bakugou's face before he continued. He was mad - he was fuming - but not at Kirishima. "You know that, right?" Given the way Bakugou's finger nervously began picking at his skin again, ripping the flesh around his cuticle, Kirishima actually doubted whether or not Bakugou understood that logic. "I know you're strong and I know you don't care, but what she said to you - what I'm sure she says to you - isn't true." Bakugou's mouth was set in a firm line and glare he had been giving Kirishima dropped to the concrete below.

"I know," he admitted quietly, biting the inside of his cheek.

"It can still hurt to hear," Kirishima continued and Bakugou nodded stiffly, sniffing as he scrubbed his arm across his face. Kirishima ignored the gesture and stepped forward, deeming it safe enough to place a hand on Bakugou's shoulder. He gave a reassuring squeeze and smiled as brightly as he could despite his own saddened feelings swirling inside of him.

"What do I even do?" Bakugou's voice was so soft, so quiet, and so not him that it made Kirishima's grin drop.

He may have felt like he had been walking out on that lake alone, creeping uncertainly and cautiously into delicate territory to avoid falling in. Kirishima never imagined that it would be Bakugou drowning in the water under the cracking ice. He would gladly let the ice break and have the turbulent water pull him under, risk hypothermia and drowning, if it meant he at least had a chance of pulling Bakugou back out.

"We can figure it out together."