A/N: Sorry this is a bit late. We are nearing the end... Hope you enjoy~

There was a knock on the door.

At the faint sound, the air became still.

In a way, the noise had been a relief. It snapped Eijirou out of his head, out of his terror and back into the familiar safety of his room. His heart was still beating so fast it felt like he had forgotten how to breathe, his head thrumming with a dull ache, eyes still burning. But the knock had anchored him to the present, and his erratic breathing calmed. Slowly, slowly, he was able to lower shaky hands from his ears as he blinked his eyes open. It had just been a dream. No reason to panic. He was okay.

There was another knock, somehow even softer than the one before.

He didn't wonder who it was for very long because honestly, it was 2 in the morning, who else could it even be?

If it really was Bakugou, he probably wanted to ask for help. Or… as close as Bakugou would ever get to 'asking for help'. Why else would he be there? And Eijirou had to help. He needed to make sure that his friend was okay. He had to.

He reached for the tissues on his nightstand, wiping the dripping snot from his nose. Some back part of his brain insisted that he couldn't let Bakugou see him like this. But also, he had seen Bakugou at his worst, hadn't he? It wasn't anything to be embarrassed about. But still, Eijirou could not help the feeling of shame that overcame him. It had only been one dumb dream, yet here he was, tears streaming down his face, sweat beaded on his forehead, his heart still pulsing with residual adrenaline, every nightmarish shadow from the disrupted moonlight making his spine chill.

Well, at least now he knew how Bakugou had felt only a few nights ago.

He shuffled the covers away and slung his legs over the side of the bed. He wiped at his eyes a little bit more, attempting to dry them, before shakily standing to his feet. Lightheadedness washed over him, making his head swim. He paused to take a few deep breaths, to stop the room from spinning. Then, after tossing his tissues into his waste basket by his desk, he shuffled to the door, one foot in front of the other, leaving his shame behind him. He didn't care how he looked, didn't care if his face was damp and puffy. His friend needed help.

His arm reached for the doorknob, but it wavered, faltered, for just a second, a stray thought stopping him in his tracks.

Maybe Eijirou needed help, too. And maybe that was okay.

He opened the door. Red eyes bore into him, exhausted, maybe a tad bit relieved, before flickering away.

"Hey," Bakugou grunted.

Bakugou…

The tightness in his chest relaxed, and Eijirou could breathe again, actually breathe a sigh of relief. Forget the crush, forget the emotional ups and downs from the past week, forget the nightmare – at his core Eijirou just missed his friend, so much that it hurt. And finally, finally, there he was.

Bakugou looked uninterested at first, seemingly quite contented with looking at the bottom of the doorframe. But his eyes glanced once more to Eijirou, their eyes meeting, and immediately his face turned grave with concern.

But his eyes, they drew Eijirou in. Legs moved on their own, making him stumble forward, until they were face to face, eye to eye. Eijirou couldn't stop himself from slowly bringing his arms around Bakugou's torso, hugging him carefully, as if any instant could whisk him away. He couldn't help the way his arms trembled, couldn't avoid the desperation.

Bakugou froze at first, for just a second, but he quickly gave in to the embrace, bringing his own arms up to surround and comfort, hands rubbing designs into Eijirou's back, just like Eijirou had done to him only nights before.

The redhead clung firmly, urgently, and he could feel tears forming all over again, his breath hitching as an array of overwhelming emotions seized his entire body. There was happiness, of course, raw and powerful, but there was also heartbreak – a stale left-over from the past week. It still tugging at his heart, but this time it was okay. He took a deep breath, catching the soft, familiar scent of firewood and shampoo. Everything was okay now.

Who knows how long they stood in the hallway like that. Time didn't exist anymore. It was only the two of them.

Bakugou rested his chin on Eijirou's shoulder, arms squeezing just a little tighter. "What the fuck happened?" he finally whispered.

Eijirou let out a small hum, letting out a little shake of his head.

"Okay, okay, fuck," Bakugou pulled away slowly, looking at Eijirou with an intensity that stopped his heart altogether. "Let's just, go inside or something, okay?"

Eijirou nodded, sniveling, wiping at his nose with his wrist, pulling away from his friend even if it made his chest ache.

Bakugou grabbed a forearm and gently tugged him through the still-open doorway of Eijirou's room, not even bothering to turn on the light. But now that Bakugou was there, the soft, soft moonlight that blanketed the space was peaceful. The shadows were no longer ominous.

The blond climbed onto the bed until his back was against the wall, pulling Eijirou to join him. So Eijirou sat down next to him, their thighs touching. The slight contact was comforting, but it wasn't enough. He wanted, needed, to be closer to Bakugou again. It strained inside of him, moving his arms slowly, without his permission, until he had Bakugou's forearm in a death grip.

Bakugou seemed to understand. Without a word, he shuffled until they were even closer, letting Eijirou rest his head onto his shoulder, curl his body up against Bakugou's side. And that's all it took. With his friend there, he could feel his anxiety melt away, like a large weight had been relieved of him.

Bakugou lifted his arm, carefully slipping it behind Eijirou's back, bringing it up to squeeze at his shoulder, bringing him even closer. He felt a little stiff, though. Uncomfortable, perhaps.

"I don't… do this sort of thing."

"I know. I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

"Don't apologize. Dammit, don't you dare apologize…" Bakugou's voice was gruff, yet underneath the surface, it overflowed with emotional depth. He let out a shaky breath. "You helped me so fucking much, alright? This is the least I can do." He tightened his hold, leaning his head on top Eijirou's, his palm tracing comforting designs up and down Eijirou's upper arm.

Eijirou simply nodded.

The two sat in silence for a moment, lost in every physical and emotional feeling that was shared between them. It was calm, safe. Eijirou's eyelids were heavy, so he closed them, feeling the gentle lull as Bakugou's body rose and fell with each breath he took. This was the closest he had been to a good night's sleep all week. But he couldn't allow himself to slip away, not yet.

"Why… why did you come over?" He all but mumbled out. "Is something wrong?"

"Stop that," Bakugou pulled back, and for a moment, Eijirou was alarmed at the lack of contact. But then, there were two strong hands on his shoulders. He found Bakugou's eyes, red and concerned and so very determined. So very close. "It doesn't fucking matter why I'm here, not when you're like this, got it?"

Eijirou looked down to his left, nodding, a dusting of pink on his cheeks.

"If you showed me anything these past few weeks, you showed me that it's okay to talk about things. Even if they embarrass you or make you feel scared. Right? So talk to me. What happened?"

Even though Eijirou wasn't looking, he could feel Bakugou's gaze. It was too intense. He couldn't avoid it, it bore into his soul. He closed his eyes. "… Bad dream."

At those words, Bakugou tensed immediately, his grasp becoming so tight it almost hurt. Maybe he was recalling his own nightmares. But he did not speak, only giving a curt nod, prompting Eijirou to go on.

He didn't really want to explain himself. Not really. But he remembered being there for Bakugou, hearing him talk about his nightmares. If Bakugou was as worried as he appeared, then he probably really did want to know more, just as Eijirou had back when their roles were switched. So Eijirou took a deep breath, hesitantly allowing the memory to flow through his mind once more.

"I-It wasn't really clear," he began slowly, "Everything was blurry, and vague. But you were there, and as soon as I saw you, I knew that it was that night. When we helped you escape. I was trying to reach out for you, take your hand but… I missed."

At this point, Eijirou's voice barely carried above a whisper. The memory was tearing at him again, making his entire soul feel panicky. He buried his face in Bakugou's shoulder, a stray arm finding his way around his friend's waist, clinging on to him with desperation.

"… I missed, and you fell, and there was nothing I could do to save you, I was so scared, I woke up a complete wreck—"

"Kirishima." Bakugou's voice sliced through the night air, anchoring Eijirou's restless mind back to the present. "You… don't have to fucking be alone for something like that. Why didn't you come get me?"

"It hasn't happened before. And, I wanted to give you space. I thought that's what you wanted, but I may have taken it to the extreme..."

"… Ahh, fuck." At that, Bakugou closed his eyes. His voice was soft, as if he had been overwhelmed by realization and could only bring himself to speak the bare minimum. He brought a hand up and ran fingers through his hair. "That's why you weren't talking to me. I didn't know."

Eijirou couldn't help but wince. "I didn't mean to cut you off. I'm sorry. It was just difficult, because… because…"

I like you. I like you, I like you, I like you.

Oh god. Oh god, he wanted to say it. He wanted to say it so badly, it was an itch that would not go away, it danced on his tongue, hammered in his chest, spreading to every nerve in his body. But he had to stifle it. He couldn't say it, not yet at least.

"… I don't know why," he continued lamely, a weak shrug lifting his shoulders. "But I knew you weren't sleeping well. I saw how you acted in class, and I could hear you wake up sometimes, and it broke my heart. I wanted to be there with you because I know that being there helped you, but I couldn't do anything, and it made me feel really helpless. I was just so worried about you, and… I'm just so thankful that you are here now."

The room fell still. Bakugou looked at him, a bit side-ways, his brows furrowed in a cute little crease. He looked down into his lap. "These last few nights have been hell," he conceded. "Tonight wasn't any fucking different. 'S why I came here. Because I trust you, and… um."

Bakugou seemed at a loss for words, lost in thoughts. It was etched as confusion into his face, and Eijirou couldn't help but hold his breath, anticipating the significant words that were sure to come.

Then, Bakugou lifted his head, straightening up, clearing his throat. His next words were jarringly brash. "Okay. This has been fucking bothering me for weeks now, so I gotta ask about it. When you helped me escape, you knew you would get in trouble, right?"

Eijirou blinked.

Wait, what?

That certainly wasn't a turn that he had expected the conversation to take, and it completely caught him off guard. "Um… Yeah…?"

"So. You're telling me, that you knew that you could face expulsion, not to mention that you could have gotten seriously hurt, or even killed, and you went through with your plan anyways just to get me out of there?"

"Well…" Eijirou shrugged. "Yeah."

Bakugou pursed his lips, and just stared. Then, he turned away. "You're a goddamn moron, you know that?" He murmured under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. "How can you even make a decision like that so fucking easily? What made you think that was worth the risk? That I was worth the risk? I don't get it."

For a long moment, Eijirou could only sit in silence. His heart felt like it was thrashing, drowning in his chest, being twisted so tight that it physically hurt. How could Bakugou not see how incredible he was? How could he think so little of himself that he didn't think he deserved saving?

"Because, you're… you're my bro. My friend."

He smiled, softly, trying his best to be warm and genuine, but he couldn't shake the sense of apprehension. His words were true, of course they were, but something about them made Eijirou feel uncomfortable. Because, there was more to it, wasn't there? More that he was not ready to tell, feelings that were, in a sense, far more intimate. Or, a different type of intimate at the very least. But even if Bakugou didn't learn the true nature of his feelings, even if he never knew of the way he made Eijirou's heart leap and the butterflies in his stomach dance, he needed to understand just how much Eijirou cared about him.

So he brought his hand to rest on Bakugou's forearm. At the contact, the blond looked up sharply. Their eyes met, and Eijirou couldn't resist the urge - he gently press their foreheads together, noses brushing against each other, and just allow serenity to fall over them.

"You're my best friend," he whispered.

The room fell completely still.

They were so close. For the first time in days, Eijirou could breathe freely, without anything tethering him down and it was incredible. He could feel his breath mix with Bakugou's with every soft exhale, could feel their eyelashes brush together ever-so-slightly.

Then, the blond brought his own hand to grab Eijirou's forearm in turn, and he could feel his own heart skip a few beats. Maybe Bakugou could feel the beating, too, or maybe it was Bakugou's own quickening pulse that Eijirou was feeling underneath his fingertips.

"You're… hm," Bakugou swallowed, clearing his throat, ever-so-slightly nodding his head. His voice was so, so soft that Eijirou couldn't even make out his words clearly. But he knew what Bakugou had said.

You're my best friend, too.

And Eijirou felt like he could cry all over again – good tears, this time. He had never felt so moved, so privileged, so happy. His hands were shaking, ever so slightly, excitement thrumming through every vein, and he felt alive.

"You're my best friend, you really are," he muttered out, his thoughts and words in a blur, "You're my best friend in the whole wide world, I care about you so much, Bakugou, thank you. Thank you for coming here. I needed this."

They were so close, so comfortable, so worn-out, and maybe, just maybe…

"… Can I stay here tonight?"

Bakugou's voice was so soft, so hopeful.

Eijirou squeezed his hand on his arm tighter, holding on for dear life as his heart tried its best to beat its way out of his chest. "Of course."

"Oh thank god," he nearly whined, slowly pulling their foreheads apart. He rubbed lazily at his eyes, letting out a mighty yawn. "I'm so fucking tired."

Eijirou let out a hum, a grin on his lips.

There was a little bit of awkward shuffling as the two made their way to the head of the bed, arranging the blankets over them and lying down, but they managed pretty quickly. And once they were under the blankets, legs intertwining, arms tugging to be closer and closer... it was amazing. Honestly, Eijirou could not stop the smile that was plastered on his face, even if he tried. So there he lay, a grin on his face, noting the familiar scents of Bakugou's hair and cologne, simply allowing himself to embrace, to hold, and be held, surrounded by the realness that was Bakugou.

"I missed you."

The words were out before he had a chance to stop them, and Eijirou's first instinct was panic. They were too much, too clingy. But they were true, so perhaps that didn't matter.

He opened his eyes, peering over to Bakugou, trying to make out his reaction in the dark. The blond's eyes remained closed, his breathing slow, and for a moment, Eijirou was worried that he had already fallen asleep. Goodness knows he needed it.

But then, their embrace tightened, just a little bit, and Bakugou's gruff voice filled the room. "Missed you, too."

And it was all so much, so overpowering, and he wanted to say more. He needed to say more.

"Thank you, Bakugou…" he whispered, so delicately, his breaths shaky with elation. "Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for taking my hand that night. You mean so much to me, Bakugou. You are my most important person. You bore your spirit to me, showed me your fears and vulnerabilities and allowed me to help you. When I was feeling down, you didn't hesitate to help me. You respect me and care about me, it is such an honor. I just want to know you, more and more. I want to be closer to you, spend time with you. You have given me so much inspiration, so many reasons to be proud, and happy, and I… I-I…"

Eijirou's eyelids flew open, shocked, as that all-too-familiar feeling of realization washed over him.

I… I think I love you.

He could say it. He really could, right then and there, it would be so easy. He could just let out the emotions he had been holding on to for so long, and it would be a relief. But he was scared. Scared of Bakugou's reaction, scared of how it would change their relationship.

… What was he doing? This was wrong. He couldn't take advantage of Bakugou like this, just to fulfill some perverted sense of self-indulgence. He couldn't allow his feelings to get in the way of… whatever this was. He felt guilt, and shame, and it was so strong, so overwhelming. He had to let it out, before the feeling ate him alive.

"Hey, Bakugou?" he choked out, "I… I need to tell you something."

The body in his arms didn't move. There wasn't even a hum of acknowledgement. Eijirou pulled away, ever so slightly, observing his friend's face. Nudging him gently in the side with an elbow.

"Bakugou?"

… Bakugou was asleep.

Of course he was.

Eijirou sighed. He had rambled too much. He still felt guilty, but also, there wasn't really anything he could do now except sleep. He was exhausted, too, and it was honestly a wonder he didn't pass out as soon as his head hit the pillow. And Eijirou was tired, so tired that, in that moment his actions did not seem strange. He brought his head forward, and placed his lips on Bakugou's forehead, just for a second.

"Goodnight, Katsuki."

And if Eijirou had kept his eyes open, if he had stayed awake just a little longer, maybe in the darkness he would have seen two deep, red eyes flutter open. Perhaps he would have seen how they studied him, for just a minute or two, confused and entranced and maybe just a little bit hopeful.