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Chapter Text

“Kirishima!” 

“Kiri!” 

“Eijirou!” 

“Fuck! He can't hear us!” 

“Eiji, please!” 

The desperate pleas of his friends fell on deaf ears as Kirishima sat on the floor. Hearing, breathing, moving, it was all impossible in his current state. All he could do was stare straight ahead, unmoving, as his mind completely disconnected with his body. 

Thanks for the help, Red Riot. That's what the note said. It didn't matter that it could be a bluff, a ploy to fuck with his mind. It didn't matter that it could very easily be a trap. None of that mattered because that note, those six words gave life to all of the intrusive thoughts that he kept tucked away behind his sunshine persona. The validity of the message was irrelevant; they had accomplished their purpose. Sitting on the frigid hardwood floor of an apartment in an agency he owned, surrounded by those he loved most in this world, Kirishima finally succumbed to the words that the demon locked away in the depths of his subconscious murmured to him on a nightly basis. 

Kirishima Eijirou, The Red Riot, The Unbreakable Hero, Co-Owner of the Dynamight & Riot Agency, was nothing but a fraud. The optimistic personality and positive attitude were only a guise, a means to hide his true thoughts. The unyielding resolve he exhibited day in and day out to put people first, to protect those around him, was only a thin sheet of glass patched together with fake smiles and empty platitudes. He wasn't anyone's hero. How could he be when he couldn't even keep his friends safe? How could he be herald as a worthy hero, a worthy partner, hell, even a worthy human being, if all he did was give the villains a key to the treasure chest of information they needed to destroy everything he held dear? 

As soon as Shinsou read the note aloud, Kirishima knew. He knew exactly what it was referring to. Everything, each minute detail returned with soul destroying clarity. When he had broached the subject with Katsuki earlier in the day, his response had left him uneasy. Bakugo describing the events of that night, the night he had admitted his feelings for him in a drunken stupor, set off warning bells in his mind. Something had happened that night, but Kirishima had been too drunk to remember, until now. 

“Come on, big guy. Just a few more steps.” Bakugo huffed as he struggled with the weight of a heavily drunk Kirishima clutching to his back like a baby koala. 

“M’fine right here.” Kirishima pointed to a random spot on Bakugo’s recently polished floor and unlocked his arms from around his trusty steed’s neck, promptly falling to the floor. 

“Kirishima!” Bakugo nearly fell as he quickly balanced himself from suddenly losing the weight of his brick shithouse built friend. “Goddamn it, Eijirou!” 

Kirishima sniffled slightly, unsure as to why Bakugo was yelling at him. He felt awful and his head was pounding. “I’m sor..” His confused apology was swiftly cut off as his stomach lurched violently. 

“Fuck.” Bakugo exhaled, running a hand through his hair with an exasperated sigh. He kneeled down in front of his stupidly drunk best friend, upset at himself for yelling at him. “It’s alright, Kirishima. I shouldn’t have…” 

Kirishima had no time to warn Bakugo before the contents of his stomach spewed up his throat and out of his mouth, all over himself and his best friend. If he wasn’t already emotional and drunkenly confused, then he might have had the decency to at least feel embarrassed. Instead, he only let out a small chuckle. 

“Oops.” He giggled. 

Bakugo closed his eyes and counted back from ten slowly. Do not kill your best friend. Do not explode your hero partner. Do not beat the shit out of Kirishima. He’s drunk. He probably won’t remember any of this. Just breathe. 

“Aw, fuck.” Bakugo regretted breathing. “Fucking shit. Alright, just wait right here.” 

He stomped off to the bathroom, leaving Kirishima sitting on the floor, covered in the copious amounts of alcohol he had drank that night. When he returned, Kirishima was sprawled out on the floor, snoring softly. 

“That’s fucking disgusting.” Bakugo scrunched up his face in a scowl. With an unceremonious tug, he hauled Kirishima to his feet and half carried, half dragged him down the hall, leaving a trail of fuck knows what on his newly polished floors. Roughly, he sat Kirishima on the edge of the bathtub before shedding his own shirt, tossing it somewhere in the general vicinity of the trash can. 

“Hey!” He reached out quickly, catching Kirishima just before he started falling back into the bathtub. 

“I’m good, bro.” Kirishima patted Bakugo’s arm. A faint blush spread across Kirishima’s cheeks as he covered his mouth, stifling a snicker. 

“What,” Bakugo deadpanned. He had been against going out tonight. It had been one hell of a week and he just wanted to relax at home. Instead, at Kirishima’s insistence, he went, knowing that it would make the big idiot happy. Eyeing Kirishima’s disgusting, vomit-covered clothes, he was starting to regret all of his life choices. 

“You’re…” Kirishima pointed a finger directly at Bakugo’s bare chest as he continued to giggle like a child. “You’re naked.” He then smashed both hands against his face, apparently too embarrassed to look at the man he had seen shirtless literally hundreds of times. 

Well, he at least appeared embarrassed. Bakugo promptly ignored his childish antics and reached into the shower to adjust the temperature. As he turned around, Kirishima’s eyes were peeking out between his fingers. He made a squeaky noise that sounded foreign for such a large man, before covering his eyes fully again. 

“What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing.” Bakugo punctuated each word clearly. 

“Put your shirt on!” Kirishima cried indignantly. 

“No.” 

“I can’t see you naked!” 

Bakugo rolled his eyes. “I’m not naked, dumbass.” 

Slowly, Kirishima peaked out between his fingers, raking his gaze from Bakugo’s head down to his feet. “Oh.” Bakugo’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of Kirishima’s disappointed tone. 

“Fucking hell.” He muttered under his breath. “Do you need help or can you shower on your own?” 

“I can…” Before Kirishima could even finish his response, he twisted around and unleashed the gates of hell into the bathtub. 

“Jesus Christ, Eiji.” Bakugo’s voice turned incredibly soft. Padding over to his miserable friend, he pulled his hair out of his face as he started dry heaving. Tears trailed down Kirishima’s face as he muttered, “Sorry… Not… very manly.” 

“It’s fine, Eiji.” Bakugo backed away a few steps. “I’m going to help you into the shower, okay?” 

Kirishima nodded, wincing slightly as his head vehemently disagreed with the action. The little jolt of pain helped sober his mind, at least enough to be utterly humiliated by the last thirty minutes. If there had even been the slightest chance of him dating Bakugo, it was long gone now. 

“I’ve got it. Thanks, Kats.” He averted his eyes as he stood up carefully, pulling the hem of his shirt up and over his head as he stood. “Thanks for all of this.” 

Bakugo stared at him with an unreadable expression before whispering, “Anytime, Ei.” He turned around and left without another word, leaving Kirishima speechless. 

After discarding his vomit covered clothes, Bakugo quickly showered in the guest bathroom before hastily mopping up the trail of vomit from his living room to the master bathroom. Deeming the quick clean up as passable for now, he rummaged through the closet in his spare bedroom until he found a box of old gym clothes.

 “It’ll have to do.” He murmured to himself as he pulled out a pair of sweatpants that might, might, fit Kirishima. 

Eyeing the clock on the hallway wall, he knew it was going to be a hell of a patrol the next day. Considering what time they usually arrived at the office, they were going to be able to get a decent nap instead of a good night’s sleep. 

Rounding the corner of his bedroom, he held up the sweatpants, blocking his field of vision. “Here, Red. These are all I’ve got, but they’ll have to…” 

The sounds of soft snores drew his attention to his bed, where, in all of his naked glory, lay Kirishima, sprawled out on his stomach. He had a pillow cuddled up to his chest as drool slowly left a wet patch on the grey pillowcase. 

Bakugo exhaled a loud, exasperated sigh as he rubbed his temple with both hands. “I swear to fuck, you’ll be the death of me.” 

Quickly, he grabbed the throw blanket at the edge of the bed and draped it over Kirishima. 

“Goodnight, Red.” He whispered in a tender voice that he only allowed himself to use when he was sure that no one could hear him. 

Unexpectedly, Kirishima mumbled, “Kats…” 

He turned slightly and reached out with both hands, pulling Bakugo to his chest. “I love you.” He mumbled. 

Bakugo’s eyes widened slightly as he held his breath. Kirishima’s eyes never opened as his arms slowly sank back to his sides. He had been asleep this entire time. 

Pulling the blanket up a little further, Bakugo ran his hand through Kirishima’s damp hair before leaving the room. 

A few hours later, Kirishima woke up to a blinding light cascading through the curtains of a vaguely familiar room. Sitting up, he looked around slowly as he started to recognize the black bedding and dark grey walls. His brow furrowed as he tried desperately to remember how he ended up in Bakugo’s room. Wisps of blurry images swirled behind his eyes, sending an uneasy feeling through him. 

“Must have had a nightmare.” He murmured to himself. 

Shifting his legs, he felt the soft, cool sheets graze his… Oh. 

Grasping his blanket, he slowly pulled it down revealing…

He flopped back down on the mattress with a groan. 

“Definitely a nightmare.”

“K?” 

“Kiri, buddy?” 

“Red?” 

The most disconcerting part of it all was that this had probably been the villain's plan from the very beginning. It was a perfect set up and Kirishima had willingly walked right into it. No doubt, letting his guard down and lowering his inhibitions gave the villain easy access to his mind. The bar was filled to capacity that night; personal space didn't exist. If one touch was all it took, there was no telling when and where it happened. 

The thought of that caused an involuntary shiver to run down his spine. If he hadn't missed the opening earlier that day when he was fighting off those villains, then those civilians wouldn't have been injured. If he had been faster, gotten there sooner, Denki wouldn't have had to emit so much electricity, causing him to blackout momentarily. If he would have just done his job and stopped staring at Bakugo mid-battle, then Bakugo wouldn’t have had to overextend his quirk. If he could have just let go of his jealousy when the fans hung all over Bakugo after the fight, he wouldn't have had a reason to be irritated that evening. He wasn't good enough, and instead of facing his weaknesses, he tried to drown his failures with copious amounts of alcohol. 

Kirishima could see the pieces of the puzzle snap into place. Everything revolved around that night at the bar. It wasn’t just a coincidence. That's not how Nightshade operated. Each pawn was meticulously placed on the board and every move was planned ten steps in advance. They were all connected. 

“Eijirou, please.” Bakugo sat on his knees with his face buried in the crook of Kirishima’s neck. His arms hugged Kirishima tightly as his body shook from the tears flowing unbidden down his face. In all of their years together, Bakugo had never seen Kirishima in such a state. Nothing was snapping Kirishima out of his mental spiral. His eyes were glazed over. His body was present but his mind was far away, somewhere Bakugo couldn't go. And the thought of that tore another heart wrenching sob from his chest. 

He had been an idiot. As much as he wanted to say that he didn't need anyone, that relying on others was a weakness, he knew that his life would be meaningless without Kirishima. This man was his rock. He had always been there for him, even when he had been in love with someone else. Kirishima’s loyalty had never wavered. Bakugo felt like a fucking dumbass for being angry with him. Kirishima had only been trying to help him rationalize his thoughts when he admitted that he thought that someone was messing with his head. That's what any caring person would have done. Instead, Bakugo had projected his own insecurities onto the situation and morphed them into thoughts that Kirishima didn't even say. 

“Eiji, please.” Bakugo begged. “You promised me. You promised you wouldn't leave me.” 

It wasn't the same context as the initial promise, but the reminder had its intended effect. 

“I'm here, Kats.” Kirishima mumbled. “It's okay. I'm here.” He lifted his arm robotically, wrapping it around Bakugo. 

“Kiri?” Denki hovered closely near the pair. “Where did you go, buddy?” 

“I…” He gulped harshly. “I remember now, Kats.”

Bakugo pulled back slightly, looking intently at Kirishima. “Remember what?” 

“That night. I remember everything. And…” a small whimper escaped his throat. “It’s my fault, Kats.” 

“What are you talking about?” Bakugo leaned back on his legs, giving Kirishima some space. 

“I was too drunk to remember before, but I do now.” 

Looking over at Shinsou, who had remained silently by his side, he glanced down at the note still clutched in his hands. 

“A few weeks ago, the day you told me…” He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to spit out the words before his emotions overtook him. “When you told me that your quirk was destroying your heart, do you remember what I said?” 

Bakugo’s body went rigid. He could hear his heartbeat pounding rapidly in his ears. His breathing hastened, turning erratic with each passing breath. 

“No. Fuck. No!” He wailed as he wrapped his arms around himself protectively. 

“Kiri?” Denki shifted frantically to Bakugo, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

“K, what did you say?” Shinsou felt the pit of fear twist in his gut. 

Kirishima stared straight ahead, seeing the scene of that moment play out before him. 

Tears streamed down Bakugo’s face. “It erodes the arteries in my heart. Eventually…” He tried to keep talking but he could only hiccup barely intelligible words. 

“Event… tually… my… my h… heart… wi… will… stop…" Bakugo wrapped his arms around himself. “It’s going to stop again, Ei.”

Hasn’t this man been through enough? 

“Kiri, what did you…” 

Bakugo locked eyes with Kirishima. “He said it was a recurring nightmare come to life.”