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Fleeing was hard. Leaving All Might behind to fight the final battle was hard. Fighting off the last scattered villains and Noumus by themselves was hard. Being forced to let go of Bakugou's hand was hard.
But by far the hardest part - of the fighting, escaping and witnessing so much Death in the span of not even a hour - was to see Bakugou lie on a hospital bed that seemed way too big for him with his skin barely visible beneath all the bandages drenched in blood.
A Noumu had attacked them - that was Midoriya, Iida, Bakugou and himself - out of nowhere. No one was able to react in time, except Bakugou who had pushed Kirishima out of the way as it was about to sever his head from his shoulders and instead sliced Bakugou's abdomen open with its blackened talons.
Midoriya had defeated it swiftly with his quirk after he was the first one to overcome the shock and then proceeded to carry an unconscious and severely bleeding Bakugou with the remains of his power, while Iida and Kirishima followed numbly.
They arrived at a hospital when the upcoming sun colored the town in warm red and painted the parts of their bodies that weren't already covered in blood crimson.
If it weren't for Bakugou he wouldn't be able to step into the hospital room with walls and windows - and everything, really - painted in a white of such brightness that Kirishima had to squint his eyes after he finally got the permission from a nurse to see his friend. If it weren't for Bakugou he wouldn't be doing anything anymore, really.
Friends and family were the first ones allowed to visit and since no one of their parents had arrived yet and Midoriya was out cold in another room himself - while Iida insisted to stay by his side - Kirishima had the sad privilege of being Bakugou's first visitor.
He had lost a lot of blood, the nurse had said with a smile that made Kirishima's stomach churn, but he would live.
She also mentioned that Bakugou was still unconscious as if Kirishima had spontaneously become blind and couldn't see the state the boy before him was in, before she left him alone in an unfamiliar room that smelled like disinfectant and was unnaturally quiet.
As Kirishima stepped to stand next to the bed he unconsciously thought that he was glad that Bakugou wasn't able to see his face as he let his gaze sweep across the body of a broken boy he had once thought of as invincible.
With every covered wound he laid his eyes upon, every blotch of blood showing through the thick bandages, he felt like a thousand needles pierced through his chest right into his rapidly beating heart. Kirishima scrunched his face up as if he was in actual pain and the air was suddenly missing from his lungs.
Gasping like a drowning man Kirishima staggered and was endlessly glad when his legs hit a chair he could sink onto. He put his head into his hands and closed his eyes against his palms in hopes of making the dancing black spots in front of his vision disappear. The sound of his heart shattering rung in his ears and drowned every other noise out, except for the whispering voice at the back of his mind.
Your fault. It's your fault he's like this, it said.
Kirishima hunched down until his head was almost between his knees. He felt like vomiting.
Because you are weak. He saved you, even though you didn't deserve it.
His breathing quickened, muffled against the sweaty palms of his hands.
Look at him, he's broken because of you.
If he had enough energy, he would have screamed. Screamed until the shards of his cracked and bleeding heart would have left his body and he would have been left empty. He would have preferred empty over endless self-loathing any given day.
You. Are. Weak.
"I know, I know," Kirishima felt like he was screaming his throat sore when in reality he barely whispered the words over and over again, unconsciously rocking his body back and forth all the while.
He felt the urge to cry slowly building up; felt the hot pull behind his closed eyes, the clogging of his throat and tasted the self-hatred like bile on his tongue. Yet no tears came and all these negative emotions threatened to drown him.
"Hair for brains," a scratchy whisper caused Kirishima to snap out of his self-pity party momentarily and he focused his eyes on Bakugou's face instantly - like a moth drawn to the flame - to notice with surprise that he was awake, even though the nurse had assured him he would probably not wake up for another few hours.
"Fucking finally," Bakugou didn't sound like his usual self, he sounded far too quiet, weak almost. The way he could barely uphold a whisper and his voice cracked at a higher note felt wrong, and yet so fitting. A broken voice for a broken body. Kirishima felt his heart shatter all over again.
"I called out to you like five fucking times," Bakugou continued in his glass voice and Kirishima felt the urge to run, "were you asleep or what?"
There was the usual spite in his voice, but it was layered with pain and the the haze of drugs they had infused into his unconscious body earlier and somehow it caused Kirishima to avert his gaze and his words to get stuck in his throat.
"Man, you look like shit," he remarked while ignoring Kirishima's lacking response and coughed carefully. From the corner of his eyes Kirishima saw the indestructible Bakugou wince at what must be a hundred kinds of pain shooting through his body at the small motion.
To distract himself for the sake of his own sanity he tried a reaction at the irony in Bakugou's words. He had wanted to laugh, what left his body was a mere huff of air instead, but Bakugou reacted to it nonetheless.
"The fuck are you laughing about, asshat?" he asked with his shackles meekly raised and although it was merely a weak image of his usual rage, hearing only the memory of what was and a hope for what could be filled Kirishima's chest with a feeling that felt really close to relief.
His next laughter sounded and felt more genuine, as did Bakugou's angry accusations and curse words that didn't lack their creativity even now; and somehow they managed to rile each other up until Bakugou was hoarsely yelling at the top of his lungs and Kirishima's face was wet with tears and his sides hurt from laughing.
"Did you hurt your head or something, fucking nutjob?" Bakugou spit and though it was still too scratchy and hoarse to approximate to his usual voice, it managed to sober Kirishima up quick enough. He sat up straight and wiped the tears running down his face away with his sleeve, but somehow his eyes wouldn't stop leaking once they had started.
"Why are you crying now, what the fuck?!" Bakugou squinted at him as though he doubted his sanity and Kirishima could hardly blame him, for he couldn't explain why his tears wouldn't stop himself.
He didn't feel sad, no, the crushing feeling of self-loathing had been replaced by a feeling of relief so strong that he felt like someone had put the sky in his lungs.
"Do you hate me?" Kirishima breathed and he wished that his voice would sound stronger but it was the same with Bakugou, a weak voice for a weak body.
"The fuck, why should I hate you?" Bakugou sounded and looked genuinely baffled and a laugh bubbled from Kirishima's throat again, only this time it was without any humor and hidden behind the sleeve he used to catch the tears still falling from his eyes.
"Oh I don't know, maybe because you nearly died because of me?" From where he pulled the strength to sound angry, he didn't know, but the bitterness in his voice painted confusion all over Bakugou's face and it scared Kirishima how vulnerable he looked when he wasn't angry.
So he was actually glad when he drew his brows together again and tried to equal the irritation in Kirishima's voice with his cracked one, "As if I would die from those scratches, are you fucking dumb?"
Kirishima closed his eyes at memories painted in red, causing yet more tears to run down his cheeks. "You weren't opening your eyes, we all thought you were dead," a shuddering inhale, "you didn't move, we couldn't feel your pulse, there was so much b-blood..."
He didn't know at which point he had opened his eyes again, but now they were fixed on his shaking fists in front of him and burning like someone had lit them on fire. He was speaking as if his words were air and he struggled to breath, forcing gulp after gulp into his empty lungs. He watched his tears crash and explode into tiny diamonds on the tiled floor and wondered where the sky had gone.
Kirishima didn't notice when Bakugou sat up and shifted so that he was sitting opposite of him, only when a bandaged hand covered his shaking fist and he snapped his bloodshot eyes upwards.
He was met with a mellow stare that he thought didn't suit Bakugou in the slightest, yet he couldn't avert his gaze, not even when Bakugou covered his other fist as well. The unfamiliarity of bandages on his hands nearly caused Kirishima to flinch, but he remained a statue frozen in emotions he couldn't begin to name as Bakugou started to talk in a low voice with his gaze fixed on the diamonds Kirishima's tears had left on the floor.
"You're so stupid," he mumbled and Kirishima didn't know if he realized that he was brushing his thumbs across his bruised knuckles, yet didn't dare to interrupt him, "you're so fucking dumb and the bravest person I have ever met."
Kirishima blinked once, twice, then a third time for good measure but he still wouldn't wake up.
"Bakugou," he said slowly, and now it was his turn to squint his eyes at the boy opposite him as if he had lost his mind somewhere in Crazy Town, "you nearly died because you had to protect me."
The grip on both Kirishima's hands strengthened, but Bakugou still wouldn't meet his gaze, "I didn't protect you, you fucknugget, you were simply in the way."
Over the short span of getting to know each other Kirishima had learned to ignore Bakugou's fabrications to protect his dignity or whatever he thought he was hurting by being true to himself and those around him; and so he simply spoke over his denial, his own gaze dropping to their hands.
"I was too weak to protect my friends, I was too weak to even protect myself," new tears filled his crimson eyes and he wondered how he hadn't already shriveled and withered away from dehydration, "I... we nearly lost you because I'm so weak."
He sniffed and removed one hand from Bakugou's death grip to rub his hand across his face to will his stupid eyes to finally stop leaking and his voice to stop sounding like it would break at a wrong word, "I'm s-sorr..."
"Shut up."
Kirishima blinked through his fingers at Bakugou, who finally looked at him even though it was with red hot rage flickering in his magenta eyes, "can you stop it for one second with your fucking bullshit?"
His grip on the hand that wasn't currently hanging uselessly in the air bordered on painful, but Kirishima was unable to utter a sound and could only stare dumbfounded as Bakugou continued through gritted teeth, "do you realize that I wouldn't even be here if it weren't for you and the other idiots?"
A few seconds ticked by during which Kirishima continued to stare silently and Bakugou wheezed as if he tried desperately to refrain from hurting something or someone, "had you not come I would either be dead or still with those villain fuckers, do you realize that?"
Kirishima wanted to scream his denial into Bakugou's face, because no, he didn't realize. "But... I didn't do anything," he whispered instead and he sounded pathetic even to his own ears.
"Bullshit," Bakugou spit and looked like he was about to punch him, and Kirishima was sure he would have if it weren't for the mangled state he was in. Instead he grabbed Kirishima's wrist with such force that he was tempted to use his hardening quirk for a moment, but then he remembered that he deserved this. He deserved the pain, Bakugou's rage and everything else he wanted to throw at him.
"You called out to me, you pulled me out of there with your own stupid hand."
Kirishima felt like he couldn't breath, again. His thoughts wouldn't stay in one place and denied him the opportunity to respond and his head was doing laps around his heart and nothing felt right or wrong.
He tried to take his hands from the iron prison that were Bakugou's hands; he wanted to run away, from Bakugou and all the feelings he caused to bloom in his chest, like beautiful roses hurting his chest with their thorns. But Bakugou refused, forced him closer as if he was sensing his urge to flee, "Stop crying already, it's unmanly as fuck."
He removed one of his hands to rub his thumb harshly across Kirishima's face, as though he was trying to remove his bad feelings along the never ending tears running down his cheeks.
As if it was muscle memory to not take any of Bakugou's words seriously, more tears flowed from Kirishima's closed eyes like glaciers melting away inside of him. It was his turn to grab Bakugou's hand still hovering next to his face and he held onto it like a lifeline as he wept into the hand of the man who had saved him.
He cried, sobbed, laid his very self bare to the broken boy trembling between his own shaking fingers and his feelings were falling from his lips before he could stop them.
"I-I'm s-so glad you're okay."
Only when he felt a hand - a hand that was once so familiar and now hidden beneath layers of bloodied bandages - stroke through his hair with the intention to soothe, did Kirishima manage to calm himself. Sobs turned into soft hiccups as seconds became an eternity and all the while Bakugou was silent, unnaturally so.
Kirishima feared for the worst when he sniffled and dared to open and raise his eye to receive the scolding of a lifetime, but he wasn't met with rage when his eyes found Bakugou's.
He couldn't exactly pinpoint what emotion exactly Bakugou's features displayed - besides his mindless rage he had never been an open book to begin with - but his face came really close to the one he had made when the Noumo had pierced him with its talons and Kirishima breathed a gasp at the expression and memory alike.
One of Bakugou's hands was still on top of Kirishima's head and he felt it slipping down achingly slow. He stared into blood red eyes as if they were a force of nature, drawing his gaze and paralyzing his very being.
Bakugou's fingers felt like fire when they touched his skin and at the back of his mind Kirishima wondered if he had activated his quirk as they seemed to scorch his face when they wiped away the last of his tears, leaving him raw and weak.
He was endlessly glad that he was already sitting, because it seemed that Bakugou's softened expression drained all his remaining energy and he felt boneless and like he wanted to sleep for a hundred years. Though there was still some unnamed emotion left that caused Bakugou's brows to crease slightly, Kirishima could claim that he had never seen his face in this state of calmness.
Kirishima couldn't help but let his gaze swipe across Bakugou's face in hopes of memorizing his relaxed features, but once he blinked one too many times the spell broke and Bakugou's face was graced with his trademark scowl once again. Kirishima had to suppress a sigh as he retreated both of his hands and moved to lay back on his bed with a groan.
"Motherfuck, these injuries are killing me," he growled as he inspected the thick layers of bandages covering most of the naked upper part of his body and Kirishima flinched. He tried to hide the expression on his face by rubbing both of his painfully empty hands across his face, but he forgot that nothing ever escapes one Bakugou Katsuki.
"Stop it with that stupid face or I'll seriously punch you," he hissed and Kirishima felt like a little kid getting scolded for eating too many cookies instead of nearly causing the death of his friend, "I'm still alive, now stop being so goddamn sad, jesus fucking christ."
Kirishima nodded meekly and was sure that Bakugou would kick him out any minute now for being the nuisance that he was, but he surprised him yet again when he instead said, "get over here, shit for brains."
Kirishima raised his head so fast that his flattened, red hair clung to his tear stained face and stared with wide eyes. He wasn't sure exactly what Bakugou implied, he only had a hunch - dared he call it hope? - but his impossible assumption proved to be true when he watched Bakugou scoop further to the edge of the bed with strangled grunts and an expression that would have been hilarious in any other situation.
"Are you sure?" Kirishima asked breathlessly, only asking because he wasn't sure and Bakugou pierced him with a stare that didn't hurt, but soothed his worries.
"I'm not offering again, asshat," came his vicious answer and Kirishima obliged so fast that he nearly shoved Bakugou from the bed as he scrambled on it and laid down next to him. It wasn't comfortable, far from it with Bakugou still taking up most of the space due to his injuries forcing him to lay on his back and Kirishima on his side, his arms squished between his chest and Bakugous's bare arm.
"This bed is way too fucking small," he grumbled and Kirishima agreed with a noise as he tried to avoid Bakugou's hair stabbing his eyes out, "lift your head, you fat fuck."
Kirishima did as ordered with a snort and held himself up on his elbow as he watched with wonder how Bakugou crept even closer to him; and then looked at him with an expectant stare once he seemed satisfied.
"Lay your head on my shoulder, dimwit," Bakugou said with an irritated roll of his eyes when Kirishima still failed to understand him and his eyes should've probably hurt from how far they widened in an instant. Kirishima seriously wondered if they had infused him with some drugs as well without his knowing and this was all a high dream, because that possibility seemed far more likely than Bakugou willingly offering him to cuddle.
Yet he didn't complain and as he laid with his head on Bakugou's bare shoulder Kirishima thought that it still wasn't particularly comfortable, but beyond antiseptics and dried blood he could smell cinnamon and smoke and something that he thought the sun smelled like and a warm feeling grew slowly in his chest.
Kirishima raised one of his hands and silently traced blotches of crimson on bandages, close enough to feel the rough material but not quiet touching, even though he wanted nothing more than to feel the solid skin beneath his fingers to make sure that he was still whole.
He watched the steady rise and fall of Bakugou's chest, counted and cherished every breath, and laid his hand on top of where he thought his heart must beat. Kirishima felt the urge to cry again when he felt the soft beats beneath his palm, but his eyes remained dry.
Bakugou covered his hand with his own and Kirishima could feel his breath on his forehead, so close that it nearly burned, when he spoke, "don't you dare apologize again."
It was scary how well Bakugou was able to read him by now, but he didn't feel vulnerable, quite on the contrary. He felt the safest he had ever been knowing that someone was able to understand him without words and like nothing could ever hurt him as Bakugou put his arms around him like a fortress.
"You really must have hit your head," Kirishima mumbled and hid a smile in bandages and heated skin.
"Shut your mouth, I'm trying to sleep here."
Kirishima laughed, genuine and free of guilt, regret and everything else that had shattered his now mended heart.
He felt like he had found a home.