Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Bakugou, can you hear me?”

He ignored the grating sound of the voice in his ear, gritting his teeth against the annoying sound of the static feedback that registered from the tiny, cheap earpiece. As if they couldn’t afford to give pro heroes better equipment, but no, the Hero Public Safety Commission were a bunch of old, washed-up rich guys who sat on their asses and sent other people out to save the world while keeping their wallets tightly locked up. He’d be better off without it. Without them, honestly.

“Bakugou!”

“Damn it, stop yelling! Or are you trying to draw them to your location?” Bakugou hissed, stopping his task long enough to let the anger rush through him. Bunch of idiots he worked with, honestly. If things had just gone according to plan after graduation...not that he had time to think about that right now.

“Well, if you would have answered me the first time I asked –”

“Yes, shit. I can hear you. Now shut the hell up. I need to concentrate.”

He rolled his eyes, but the voice on the other side was silent, which he was grateful for. He asked for backup, sure, but he hadn’t expected them to send him fucking Denki. Icy Hot would have been better than this shit. At least he would have kept his damn mouth shut and let Bakugou do his work.

Normally he wouldn’t have been assigned something like this; it was supposed to be a quick in-and-out scoping mission to gather intel on the wanted gang of villains calling themselves The Red Fury that had been wreaking havoc across the downtown area the past few months. The HPSC had actually contacted his former classmate Jirou – now pro hero Earphone Jack – to partake in the mission, but Bakugou had personally volunteered, despite his volatile nature. He had heard rumors around town about the group of troublemakers, and, well…he just had to be sure about them. See for himself. If he didn’t see it with his own eyes, he wasn’t sure he would be able to trust it.

“Hey.” Kaminari’s voice was soft in Bakugou’s ear, but it was still enough to break his concentration, and he growled under his breath and kicked at the loose pile of bricks in front of him.

“What?”

“Do you think it’s true?”

It felt like a heavy rock had settled in the pit of Bakugou’s stomach, and the taste of acid flooded his mouth. He licked his lips and sighed. “I don’t know.”

There was a second of silence as Bakugou began pressing at the wall again. There was supposed to be a place that opened up a secret door, if his information was correct, but so far, he had not been very lucky. If he didn’t find something soon, though, he would have to leave empty-handed. They had already been here long enough.

“That would explain where he’s been for so long,” Kaminari said. There was a hint of sadness in his voice, something that snagged on Bakugou’s heart and almost made him want to abandon the mission altogether, because Kaminari sounded so sure, and after all these years of losing himself in his own blame and grief, he hadn’t actually paused to think how everyone else was faring with the disappearance.

He wasn’t going to lose himself tonight, though. He couldn’t think about it. He couldn’t keep running through scenarios and trying to piece together what exactly had gone wrong. If he did, he thought it might drive him insane. “Are you watching the street or running your mouth, Sparky? I swear to God if you cause me to get caught –”

“There’s no one coming!” He paused again. Bakugou could hear his shaky intake of breath loud and clear in the earpiece, making him wince. “We’re still sticking with the plan, right? Even if the rumors are true? If he’s…you know.”

Bakugou snorted, pressing on the wall. Aha! Finally! The brick gave way, and a tiny shaft opened from underneath him. It wouldn’t be wide enough for him to go through with all of his gear, he realized. He would have to abandon all of his support items if he was going to get in this building and find out the truth he’d been running away from. “Yeah,” he answered, stripping off his grenadiers. “In and out. Don’t engage. You know I never stray from the plan.”

"You literally always stray from the plan."

"Yeah? Well, tonight, I'm not."

"Even if it's him?"

Bakugou hesitated. His heart picked up speed until it felt like it was sort of galloping behind his ribcage, wild and reckless and afraid. He pushed a lever against the shaft of light, bearing down on it with all of his weight to get it to crack open. "Even if it's him. Which we don't know that it is, so don't start getting teary-eyed and shit. You wait for information before you start thinking the worst."

The low, steady thrum of feedback was all that he registered on the other end. With a sigh, he wiped at his damp, sweaty forehead and hauled himself into the tiny hatch. He slid into a dimly lit, musty hallway that was so low and so narrow he was forced down onto his hands and knees to crawl through the building. The walls squeezed at his shoulders, and dust motes fluttered in the air. He could not see any sign of life anywhere, no doors leading to the great beyond, not even a spider to keep him company. The air was stale and had a strong stench like standing water.

"How long should we wait before we come in?" Kaminari asked.

"Give me fifteen minutes. I just need to find out where they're doing all their planning and who's in charge. If we can get that information, then this mission won't be a total failure."

"Aren't you scared of what you're going to find?" Sero chimed in on the earpiece, and Bakugou rolled his eyes and blew out a breath. He'd forgotten there was another idiot sitting on top of the roof being completely useless.

"What the fuck would I be afraid of, Sero? Please tell me what you think could scare me."

The challenging tone in his voice must have deterred whatever Sero was going to say to him, because all he got was, "Just hurry back, okay? Mina's waiting at the bar for us."

"Whatever."

He was glad that Sero had shut up when he did. They had all been choosing their words carefully, tiptoeing around each other with so much caution they were barely having conversations anymore. He saw the sidelong glances that he received from his friends when they thought he wasn't looking, he felt the pity in their stares, the weight of the questions they wanted to ask but were too afraid to speak aloud. It ate into him every single day, and even now as he crawled down this narrow, stuffy passageway he could feel the oppression of their questions and their concerns and their accusations. He knew they blamed him for the disappearance.

Not anymore. If all the rumors were true, then he was getting his answers tonight. He was going to look the devil in the eye and see what had become of him. And he was not going to feel guilty about it anymore.

"Any movement out there yet?" he asked as he got to the end of the passageway. There was no door, only a hole that had been boarded up and painted over crudely by someone who looked to be in a hurry. He ripped one of the boards loose and tossed it aside.

"There's someone on the top story, it looks like," Sero replied. "I can see movement, but I can't see their face. They're talking to someone else on the other side of the room."

"Still got eyes on the guards downstairs?"

"They're just sitting there talking. But we probably need to hurry this thing along. They keep looking around like they suspect something is up."

Bakugou sighed and kicked through the rotting wood. It cracked and fell away just enough for him to pull himself through to the other side, where he emerged into a wet green room with low lights. A broken skylight opened up onto the room, allowing the trickle of moonlight to dance on the surface of the nearly ankle-deep water below him. Some pipes were busted in the corner of the room, spilling water down the walls like a waterfall. A sour, fishy smell hung heavy in the air, and something blue and scaly lay across the floor underneath the running water. He caught his breath, half-expecting the thing to lunge at him after his violent entrance, but it didn't appear to be alive. There were smears of blood caked onto the wall, and bones stuck up like prison bars from the pile of scaly goo. Whatever lived here had just feasted recently, and judging by the size of the remains, it wasn't something he particularly cared about running into tonight.

"If this is true," he said to himself, kicking up some of the water, "why did you reduce yourself to this? What the fuck did we do to you?"

"What did you say?" Kaminari asked.

"Nothing. There's a gross ass den in here that I think some fish monster is living in."

"Fish monster?"

"That, or he has some pet alligators. Tch."

"Bakugou, you're talking like you know --"

"Shut it."

"What?"

"Shut your damn mouth! There's someone coming."

He rolled his eyes, cursing his rotten luck for being paired with Kaminari for this mission. The idiot couldn't keep quiet for even a few seconds. But now, with nothing but the sound of the static buzzing in his ear, he stood and listened to the water cascading down the wall and a faint sound in the distance like shuffling footsteps. He could not see where there was a door anywhere, but he had a feeling that whoever was outside this room was coming in somehow, which meant he needed to find a way out.

He sloshed through the water, careful to avoid the pile of blue, scaly things which, upon closer examination, he saw was raw fish that had been devoured by something. Kicking aside a fish bone, he grabbed onto the pipes and hauled himself up to a small opening in the wall to crawl through, just as he heard a door crack open in the room. He peered down at the watery graveyard he had left and saw the water draining toward the center of the room, where a trapdoor had been cracked and a large, bovine-looking man emerged. He was thick everywhere, from his neck down to his feet, and one of his eyes was sealed closed with scar tissue. Bakugou immediately recognized him as one of the wanted villains they had been broadcasting on the news every night for weeks. He called himself Orc or some shit like that, which was just the most original name in the world.

"All clear out here," the man grunted, stretching his massive arms over his head and yawning. "But I'll keep looking."

He started back toward the trapdoor, then looked over his shoulder at the opening Bakugou had crawled into. Bakugou did not flinch, did not hold his breath as he pressed himself against the wall as far as he could to stay out of the orc man's line of sight. He was almost certain he was invisible at this level, but the man lingered for maybe thirty seconds or more before he finally decided to go back through the trapdoor.

Complete fucking morons, the whole lot of them. If they were even the tiniest bit smart, they would have checked any opening they had. Bakugou rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall with a sigh. The thought occurred to him that maybe they wanted to catch him, but not just yet. Maybe they knew he was here, and they were playing a cat and mouse game with him.

Well, he was the cat, and it was way past his bedtime, so he was putting an end to this now.

"Where are you?" he murmured to himself as he began to crawl through yet another narrow passageway toward God only knew where. They'd spent weeks trying to map out this building from the outside, but apparently they had not done a very good job considering they didn't account for an alligator room.

Or sharks. Maybe they kept sharks. Something with sharp teeth that could tear through skin in an instant.

He shuddered, despite himself, though it wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling. There used to be a time when he would melt at the feeling of teeth ripping into his skin, would actually beg for it. But that was before things went to shit. Now, he sat at home alone and wallowed. Wallowed. Like some punk ass teenager scorned by their first love. Like he didn't have better things he could be doing.

The passage ended with a massive fan that looked like it hadn’t been turned on in years, which explained the stale smell in the air. Below him, a vent opened up into a completely unlit room, and though he could not see anything, he could feel someone’s presence somewhere close by. It made his skin prickle and his blood run cold, and for the first time since he’d entered the building, he actually felt a little afraid. It left an acrid taste in his mouth that he couldn’t swallow down.

If it was him…and he had to look in those eyes after two long years of not seeing them…

He wanted to punch the wall, but he clenched his fists instead, biting back the scream that wanted to tear its way from his throat. He had never, ever admitted how badly it stung out loud. He’d moved on, acted like nothing happened, continued fighting his way up the pro hero ranks until he’d snagged the number four position, and he had not allowed himself to stop even for a second because if he did, he was afraid he would fall into some deep despair he would not be able to pull himself out of. He’d been through some shit, he’d been fucking kidnapped his first year of U.A., and yet, this was what had destroyed him the most.

If this was true…he wouldn’t be able to bear it. It would be the tipping point, the confrontation he was simultaneously running away from and running toward, the information he both desperately needed and never wanted to find out. It made him sick.

“Hey, the guards just left their posts on the bottom floor,” Sero whispered, though his voice was loud in Bakugou’s ear. “And whoever was on the top floor left too. I think they know we’re here.”

Bakugou cursed under his breath, staring into the void of darkness beneath him. There was someone there, someone who knew he was here, someone who had probably been waiting for him. He could feel it. He probably needed to exit the building and wait for another opportunity, maybe come back with a more competent team like Ashido and Uraraka. But he couldn’t. Not yet. He wanted to drop down into that room and find out who was waiting on him, who was lurking in the shadows and waiting for their moment to strike.

He heard the sound of something banging on the wall behind him, but before he could turn around, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. Stars danced before his eyes for all of two seconds before the world around him faded away.

There was a vague memory itching at the back of Bakugou’s brain. It was fuzzy, the details distorted after a couple of years of working to repress it, but he could see flashes of red, he could see himself smiling, he could feel the joy flooding his chest like the warmth of a fireplace. It had just been a joke, an offhand suggestion that wasn’t meant to go anywhere, but he had agreed, and damn it, if it wasn’t the most romantic fucking weekend of his entire life.

He didn’t like to think of his life in aspects of romance because he wasn’t really into romance, but when Kirishima had suggested they spend winter break hiking through the mountains together and he had actually gotten flustered for some unknown reason, everything in his life kind of flipped upside down. Then, in a week’s time, he found himself curled up in front of a fire in a snug little cabin in the woods making out with Kirishima, which is not exactly how he had planned their trip going, but he definitely had not complained then, and he wasn’t going to complain now.

He could remember the feeling of the fire warming his skin right after they had gotten in from the snow, the way Kirishima had immediately started helping him out of his scarf and winter coat, the way that, for the first time in their friendship, they had actually felt nervous around one another, watching where they touched, watching their words, chuckling awkwardly in moments of silence.

“This is where my moms came for their first anniversary when they were dating,” Kirishima had told him, grinning around the glass of champagne he had poured for himself, like that was the proudest fact he could possibly share. “They come back every once in a while.”

Bakugou wasn’t sure what had happened after that, which direction their conversation had steered them to get them to that point, but he could remember the feel of Kirishima’s lips sliding against his for the first time, clumsy and awkward at first, and mildly startling, something he wanted to run away from and then something that he quickly wanted to chase. They kissed for what felt like ages, with the fire roaring in front of them and snow falling outside, and he remembered he had fucking cried when he was sure that Kirishima was asleep and he wouldn’t get caught because as it turned out, he had had a big fucking massive crush on his best friend for a long time and had refused to confront it, and now he was scared and he wanted to wake Kirishima and yell at him, but instead he just curled closer into his arms and stared into the flames, wondering if he was going to end up burning this down like he had burned down so many things in his life.

The memory played out, the sound of the crackling fire slowly melting into the sound of some cheesy pop song that Bakugou recognized but could not think of the name of, and as he groaned in pain and cracked his eyes open to a dimly lit room and a couple of idiot villains staring him down, he realized that it was fucking Britney Spears, and then his heart sank because he knew that the information he had dreaded collecting was true all along.

“Damn it,” he murmured, wanting to rub at his aching head, but as he tried to move his arm, he realized that his hands were tied behind him, and he was sitting in a chair, unable to move. He grunted, trying to swing his leg out, but that was useless too, and he cursed himself, wondering how he had managed to let himself get dragged into this situation. He was the number four hero, damn it, he should be better than this.

"Look who's finally awake," one of the villains said, a large, shaggy man with a wolfish smile and hairy arms. "Took ya long enough."

There was a buzzing in Bakugou's ear, the sound of the earpiece going dead. He thought he could hear Kaminari's panicked screaming just a little bit, but it was so far away he didn't even bother trying to reply. If he did, he would tell the idiots not to come in, and he knew they wouldn't hear of that. They would bust in here whether he wanted them to or not, and they would find the same foul information that they had been hoping they wouldn't find.

"Where is he?" Bakugou growled, looking the dog man dead in his ugly, yellow eyes with a cool, collected stare. He hoped the villains couldn't tell how hard his heart was pounding, how badly he was panicking on the inside at the thought of seeing him again. He was so close, and yet --

"I really thought you would have come looking for me sooner," the familiar voice rang out from behind him, and the sound of it made his stomach flip over unpleasantly and almost made him lose all of his dinner. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe through his nose so he wouldn't go into a full-fledged panic attack. He had been having a lot of those lately, mostly when he first woke up, sometimes when he watched the news. "I guess our relationship meant a lot more to me than it did to you. Did you not miss me?"

Something about his voice was off. It still sounded familiar, like Kirishima, but there was something else there, something dark, something sinister that made goosebumps rise along Bakugou’s arms and the back of his neck. He didn't move, didn't respond as he listened to the sound of heavy boots coming toward him from across the dark, empty room. Seconds ticked by, marked by the sound of his beating heart as he waited in anticipation and fear, fear that was so strong it nearly choked him, and finally, finally he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, and he recoiled automatically, not wanting to be touched. His breath caught in his throat, and he pushed it out painfully from his nose, forcing himself to sit still, to not look at him, to not see what had become of his best friend.

"Nothing to say?" Kirishima asked innocently, leaning in so that his breath tickled over Bakugou's ear. He draped his arms over Bakugou's shoulders as casually as if they had been dating all this time, as if he hadn't fucking disappeared and hadn't bothered to call. "That's weird. You've never missed an opportunity to insult me."

Bakugou cleared his throat, scrambling a little against the chair. The idiots had just tied him up with regular rope bindings, which would be no problem getting out of. But he sort of had a feeling they did that on purpose.

Kirishima rounded the chair, stopping in front of Bakugou and studying him with brightly lit, delighted eyes that almost looked like the same eyes Bakugou had looked into a thousand times, but there was something else there, something he had never seen before. Darkness. Pain. Regret. Betrayal. It didn’t look right on his face.

The squirmy feeling that crawled through his chest at the sight of Kirishima was unpleasant. He looked bigger now, like he had grown a couple of inches and filled out more in his chest and shoulders. His hair had gotten longer too, falling just below his shoulders. He hadn’t bothered to spike it up like he used to when they were in school, and instead, he wore it in a half-up, half-down sort of style. The roots showed up black where he hadn’t dyed it in a while. Despite looking more muscular, he also looked a little starved, like he might not have had a good meal in a long time. There was a hollowness about him, his cheeks a little sunken, his face gaunt. His skin was darker, tan, his bare shoulders dotted with freckles that Bakugou used to kiss over almost religiously. New scars bloomed over his skin: a few long lines down his neck and a couple of burns on his arms. He wore a dark, sleeveless shirt, tight black jeans, heavy combat boots, and a black and gray flannel shirt tied around his waist. All in all, he looked like a normal guy, not some low-level villain running around the streets wreaking havoc.
All in all, he looked like Kirishima.

And despite all of the anger and the hatred that Bakugou had let build up over two years, all of the conversations he had rehearsed in his mind, all of the things he wanted to yell at him, to tell him off, all of it disappeared in a whoosh, like they had been knocked right out of him.

Bakugou didn’t like to think of people as “attractive” or “sexy” or “handsome” because humans were gross, but oh god, Kirishima was the most fucking beautiful person he’d ever seen in his life, and it made him want to vomit.

“Really? Nothing?” Kirishima asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking. He dragged his tongue over his bottom lip, slowly, deliberately, and Bakugou watched with desire burning hot in his stomach.

Damn it. Damn it all to hell.

He wanted to beat the shit out of him for ruining his life, for ruining both of their lives, but he also wanted to beg him to come home. What the fuck kind of feeling was that?

“Kirishima,” he finally said, forcing himself to look into his eyes, to dig deep into himself and tap into that rage he had been bridling for so long. It was burning now, slowly, but soon it would consume him, make him go out in a blaze of glory. He smiled at him, sweetly, innocently, the sort of smile that Deku always told him made him look like a predator. “You’re looking shitty.”

Kirishima was silent for a moment, his eyes grazing over Bakugou’s body like he was tearing him apart and trying to see all of his inner thoughts. It was like he could read him, could see the turmoil that was unraveling inside his brain. His eyes stopped at his lap, lingered for a second, then snapped up to Bakugou’s face again. “I could say the same for you. So who’s with you? The usual? Midoriya and Todoroki?”

“You think I would bring that little crying bitch with me to see you? He would lose his damn mind. God, I’m never gonna hear the end of it from him as it is.”

“So who? Kaminari?”

Bakugou pressed his lips together in a thin line, glaring at him. The hate was coming back now, stronger than it had ever been before. He didn’t care now what Kirishima had been to him, what he was to him now. He didn’t care how attractive he was or how he looked at him like he was the only person in the world. All he cared about now was that he left, he threw Bakugou to the side and abandoned his entire life without a fucking trace, without even one single fucking hint of where he was or what he was doing, and he joined with villains to…what? What the hell was he trying to accomplish?

“Not talking then?” Kirishima asked, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “That’s not the Bakugou I knew.”

“Yeah? Guess we’ve both changed then.”

“Aww, outgrown me so soon?” Kirishima poked his lower lip out into a pout, the corner of his mouth curling up into a little smile. “That’s sad. I thought we were soulmates, Katsuki.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Tch. I don’t believe in soulmates.” He tried to ignore the sharp pain in his chest at the word, like pins being driven into his lungs.

“You never believed in much of anything, did you?” Kirishima cocked his head to the side, studying him in the same way a scientist might study a particularly gruesome, yet fascinating, specimen.

Bakugou grunted in response, rolling his eyes again as he pulled against his bindings. It would just take one tiny explosion to get those ropes to fall away, one brief moment. He just needed the right time, the right strategy to get out of this place. The building was a nightmare of crawl spaces and holes in the wall, places that most people wouldn’t be able to fit into. He could see a small exit at the top of a staircase on the other side of the room, but God only knew where that would lead him. Maybe to wherever they were keeping the alligators or the sharks or whatever weird fucking creatures they had decided to keep as pets.

“I believed in being a hero,” he said. “Everyone was so fucking sure that I had a mean streak and could be swayed to be a villain. Never would have fucking thought it of you, would they? Kirishima Eijirou, who never did anything fucking wrong except fail his damn tests because he’s a fucking--”

“Don’t come in here trying to be the moral police,” Kirishima snarled. Something dangerous flashed in his eyes, something vaguely threatening. If they kept this up much longer, Bakugou had a feeling there would be a fight, and damn it, he was ready for it. “You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

“No, because you shut down and didn’t tell me a damn thing, and now look at you!” Bakugou shot a glare at the wolf man standing there staring at him with flat, bored eyes. “How the fuck did you reduce yourself to taking care of Teen Wolf and his Monster High girlfriend?”

Wolf Man growled, and the girl standing next to him – a petite girl with purple skin and hair that looked like coils of snakes – placed a calm, reassuring hand on his arm. Still, if looks could kill, her pink eyes would be daggers making him bleed.

Kirishima merely frowned, all remnants of his former self disappearing in one smooth action. He looked older, but none the wiser. And tired. So, so tired. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and asked, “What are you doing here, Bakugou?”

Bakugou shrugged. “On a mission.”

“Yeah, but you don’t do recon. They could have sent Jirou or Shouji or any number of pros to scout out the place. I want to know what you’re doing here.”

Bakugou swallowed hard. It tasted like metal. “I wanted to know if it was true.”

“If what was true?”

A pause. Then, “If you were leading a bunch of dumbass villains in a shitshow revolution against the city.”

Wolf Man growled again. Kirishima held up a hand to silence him, and he obeyed without question.

“And?”

“And I came here to kick your ass and remind you what a fucking moron you are.”

Kirishima stared at him, his expression completely unreadable, which was unnerving because Kirishima used to be an open book. He never lived in fear of anything, was always very up front about who he was, even in times when he was struggling to figure it out himself. Finally, he sighed and crouched down in front of Bakugou so they were at eye level. “Moron isn’t exactly a strong enough word for how you feel about me right now, is it?”

“Not even a little bit.”

Kirishima shrugged, his mouth screwing up like he was thinking about something pretty intensely, then blew out a breath that made his red hair flutter into his eyes. “I know that you hate me. I can feel it. But do you know what else I know?” His eyes glimmered wickedly, and he leaned in, placing his hands on either side of the chair and caging Bakugou in. He smirked, and Bakugou felt like he couldn’t breathe as Kirishima’s nose brushed against his. “I know you haven’t been able to take your eyes off of me ever since you woke up. I know you still have feelings for me, and I know you’re trying to fight yourself on it because you think it’s wrong. But I can see it in your eyes.” He pressed even closer, his lips almost touching Bakugou’s. “You wanna fuck me just as bad as you did when we were dating.”

“Bullshit,” Bakugou hissed, and with one single, tiny pop, he had his hands freed and he was lunging, arms grabbing at Kirishima and pushing him backward onto the floor. Kirishima landed with a heavy thud, almost too easily, and Bakugou was on top of him, chair and all, panting hard and pinning Kirishima’s arms above his head.

His thick, muscular arms that used to wrap around Bakugou's narrow waist at night and keep him warm. God, he was so warm.

“Oh, did I strike a nerve?” Kirishima grinned, his tongue poking out tantalizingly between his lips. Bakugou tried – he tried so damn hard not to look – but he couldn’t stop his gaze falling to his mouth. And Kirishima fucking saw him too. He had him right where he wanted him. “Well, if you came here to fight, then let’s fight.”

Bakugou glared at him, his lips curling up into a snarl as he jerked his legs free from the restraints and kicked the chair to the side. It clattered and rang out through the room, causing the purple girl to shriek and Wolf Man to lose his temper and start howling with rage. Kirishima and Bakugou both ignored them, solely focused on one another.

“I should warn you,” Kirishima said, rolling out of the way as Bakugou reached for him, his hands igniting with explosions. The explosion cracked against Kirishima’s arm, but not in time to do any damage. He hardened quickly, blocking the blow. “I’ve gotten better since the last time we trained together. You don’t stand a chance.”

“Yeah?” Bakugou said, quirking an eyebrow. “We’ll see about that.”

The good thing about Bakugou’s Quirk was that he was fast, especially when he was in a rage. The bad thing was that, even after years of training, his rage blinded him at times, made his reaction times slow and his moves predictable. And right now, he was barely even thinking, could only see red, could only feel the white hot burning in his chest as he kicked out toward Kirishima's knees, trying to knock him off his feet. Kirishima, true to his word, was faster than he had ever been in their training, catching Bakugou’s leg mid-kick and jerking him clean off his feet. He landed on his back hard, the wind whistling out of his lungs as Kirishima descended on him, his red eyes shimmering maliciously. And in one moment of clarity, he was rolling out of his way, back on his feet, throwing an explosion at the railing of the staircase as Britney Spears blared happily in the background. The railing creaked and groaned, and the monster girl shrieked, pulling Wolf Man out of the way just in time before the railing crashed down to the floor below.

The distraction didn't work as he had hoped. Kirishima used to have a sort of short attention span, but he didn't seem to care anymore, focused intently on his opponent now.

"You can't use your old tactics and expect the same results," Kirishima said, shaking his head. "I'm not the same person that I used to be."

"You say that like you've grown up," Bakugou said, "but you just became a little bitch. Seriously, what the fuck happened to you that made you so damn pathetic?"

"Red Riot!" Wolf Man exclaimed, gasping. "You're going to let this little hero talk to you like that?" He growled, stepping forward to join the fight, but Kirishima waved him away.

"Using your hero name too, huh? Fucking trash." Bakugou watched him carefully as they circled one another, paying close attention to his feet movements. He kept shuffling forward like he was going to attack, then thinking better of it. He'd gotten faster, that was for damn sure. He used to move slow, like...well, a rock. "Thought you wanted to be just like Crimson Riot. And what would he think of this shit?"

Kirishima tilted his head to the side, considering him. Bakugou took the moment of silence as an opportunity and lunged, explosions popping in every direction. This time Wolf Man cried out, obviously having been struck, and the floor between them exploded into shards of dust and concrete that flew into the air and rained down on them. Bakugou could hear the coughing coming from somewhere amidst the dust clouds and cleared the large chunk of concrete pointed up toward the sky, using the cover of the dust to land a punch to Kirishima's stomach that felt like he had just punched a damn mountain. His skin cracked and bled, and he was sure that he had broken at least two of his fingers as they sang out in pain, but god it felt good to hit him, even if he didn't feel it.

"I don't think it really matters what Crimson Riot would think," Kirishima said casually, as if he hadn't even been struck at all. Dust settled on his clothes, in his hair, on his skin, leaving him looking halfway decayed like one of Shigaraki's victims.

"Does it matter what I think?" Bakugou asked, his voice sharper than he had intended, more pained. He was panting, his chest aching with each breath he pulled in, and there was blood dripping down his forehead and his cheek, though he had no idea where it had come from.

Kirishima fixed him with a level stare that pinned him to the spot, made him hesitate for just a moment too long, a foolish move that probably would have gotten him killed had he been fighting any other villain. "What do you think?"

Bakugou growled low under his breath. Nitroglycerin sweat dripped heavily on his hands, pooling in his palms. He could barely contain the crackles and pops of explosions erupting across his skin. "I think you're a weak, aimless, pathetic asshole," he said. "You saw things getting a little tough and you took off running like a little bitch instead of fighting for what you wanted, and you shut me out. You made me feel like I was just some stranger you'd never met. You got depressed and you wouldn't ask for help from anyone who wanted to help, so you took to the streets looking for other lonely, depressed losers to try to justify your feelings. And they were even more lonely and depressed than you, so you took advantage of that, and now look at you! Hiding in the shadows, trying to pretend you don't exist, making other people do shit for you instead of working hard for it yourself like you used to. You're a coward, Kirishima. And you're right. You're not the same person I used to know. But I'm not the same either. And I won't regret throwing your ass in jail. You can't make me feel sorry for you. You can't give me some sob story like all the villains try to make me feel sorry for them. Because I don't feel sorry for you. You weren't the one that was hurt. I was. And Kaminari was. And Sero and Mina and Deku and Tamaki and fucking Fat Gum. If you were trying to get back at someone, congratulations. You did it. I hope you feel fucking great about yourself because I'm going to destroy you."

He was crying, he realized. Hot tears pooled in his eyes and stung as they rolled down his cheeks, mingling with blood. His chest hurt so badly he almost couldn't breathe. Each breath he dragged in was like choking on sawdust. And Kirishima just stood there staring at him, eyes wide, like he wasn't exactly how to proceed from here. He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it.

"Just tell me it wasn't me," Bakugou said, his voice shaky and broken with sobs. He couldn't stop himself. He was crumbling. He could feel the panic settling in on him now, the dread that had been creeping up on him and haunting him for nearly two years now, reaching for him with clawed hands and threatening to drag him down into endless darkness. "Tell me that I didn't make you do this."

Kirishima softened for just a moment, looking almost like his former self, confused and concerned and far too sympathetic for his own good. It was the same look Bakugou had seen him give children he rescued from disasters, that sort of sad, lopsided smile that let them know that things sucked and he knew it, but that everything was going to be okay. It made Bakugou bristle with more rage than he could contain. He threw his head back and screamed, screamed until his lungs felt like they were going to burst, and the entire room exploded in flames and endless amounts of concrete and metal that showered them like rain. It hurt, the concrete scraping over his skin, and the dust and smoke nearly gagged him, but he just kept screaming, letting the panic wash over him and the building fall down around him.

His entire world was falling apart. It had been falling apart ever since he woke up that morning two years ago and found the note at the foot of the bed: I'm not cut out to be a hero. I'm sorry. That's it. No explanation, no way of knowing where he went or what he was doing.

"Fuck you!" Bakugou yelled, kicking at concrete as it settled around him, leaping in every direction and hurling explosions, aimless, blind, not caring who or what he destroyed in his wake. "I hope you fucking burn. I don't ever want to see your hideous face ever again."

Something creaked overhead. The ceiling was starting to come down. Pretty soon, the whole building would collapse. He had no idea how many people were in there, and he couldn't find it within himself to care if they made it out. He just wanted to burn it all down, to make Kirishima feel the sort of pain that he had been feeling every damn day since he walked out on him.

But he had to get out. There was no time for confrontation now, no need for him to try to apprehend anyone. He had been bluffing all along, after all, wearing the face of a hero with nothing but justice on his mind, when really he was too fucking weak and ridiculously head over heels in love to do anything about it.

Damn it.

The dust settled. Kirishima stood at the top of the staircase with its rickety, twisted stairs, covered head to toe in thick brown dust and clutching his arm, where a fresh cut oozed blood. He did not look angry. He did not look disappointed. He just looked...hurt.

And even after all the shit he had been doing, all the trouble he had been causing, it made Bakugou’s miniscule heart ache, and he wanted to fight him all the more.

"You were going to destroy me?" Kirishima asked, with just the slightest bit of amusement in his voice. He smiled, but there was no joy behind it.

Bakugou glared up at him. "Don't let me see your fucking face ever again. Because next time I will."

Kirishima raised an eyebrow. "That a promise?"

Bakugou’s lip curled back. He thought about attacking him then, putting an end to this before it could get any worse, but he was frozen to the spot, locked in by those eyes that he had slowly and surely fallen in love with, when he had never even wanted to be in love in the first place.

"You still have shitty hair," he said, and Kirishima actually had the audacity to laugh -- a real laugh, his old laugh, the laugh that Bakugou would never in a thousand years admit how much it warmed him. He flipped him off and, taking one last look at the destruction he had caused, he exited the building through a hole in the wall that he had blown wide open.

When he reached Kaminari and Sero seated on top of a nearby building, they were freaking out, screaming and waving their arms and asking so many questions that he couldn't even hear what they were saying. Nor did he care. He felt the familiar tightness in his chest that usually preceded his panic attacks, and his knees wobbled and gave out. He collapsed to the ground, sucking in a shaky, heaving breath that burned his lungs.

"Dude?" Sero said, his voice rising nearly an octave as Kaminari caught him and helped lower him to a sitting position. "What the hell happened in there? The whole fucking building is coming down."

Bakugou grabbed the water Kaminari was handing him and downed half the bottle, wiping at his lips as short, stuttered breaths continued to tear through his quivering lips. He couldn't bring himself to admit his failure, that he had looked Kirishima in the face and seen what had become of him, and he had not been able to treat him with the same poetic justice as any other villain. He let him get away. And he didn't even feel bad about it.

"Mina's at the bar, right?" he said. "Shouldn't keep her waiting."

Sero and Kaminari exchanged a worried glance. Sirens wailed in the distance. "We should probably stay for clean up, right?" Kaminari asked. "I mean, they're villains, but they're still people. Rescue heroes should be here soon. We'll be going in and apprehending them, I guess. If they're still alive."

"They're alive," Bakugou said, wiping the sweat and blood from his face, and suddenly he was very, very tired. He groaned, stretching his right arm to find that it was stiff and had cuts along the bicep from falling debris. Fucking great. "We'll see them again soon."

Kaminari opened his mouth to speak, then fell back, for once in his life rendered speechless as he picked at fuzz on his jacket.

"Kirishima?" Sero asked, daring to ask the question that none of them had had the nerve to speak out loud.

Bakugou watched as a few figures emerged from the destruction and darted off into the night. Maybe it made him a shitty hero, not going after them, but no one had told him when he signed up for this shit that he would have to be fighting against someone that had, at one time, been literally the center of his universe. He would find the strength one day, but it wasn't today.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's him."

Chapter Text

The good thing about living alone was that there was no one to bother him when he was in a brooding, shitty mood. The bad thing about it was that it left him alone with his thoughts, which had been taking dangerous, twisted turns for the past couple of years.

When they went into the building for search and rescue, they didn't find any bodies, which Bakugou had expected. The Commission showed up at the hospital while he was getting his head stitched up and x-rays done, already drilling him about what had happened inside the building. Kaminari and Sero shared what little information they had, and Bakugou gave them a rundown of what had occurred inside, although he omitted a few details and altered some others. He didn't feel good about lying, but he also didn't feel good about the electric buzzing that rushed through his veins when he remembered seeing Kirishima again. He should not still have feelings for someone who had been orchestrating headlines that had plagued the nightly news, but here he was, consumed in a sea of desire and absolutely drowning.

He told the Commission that the fight had gotten out of control, that he could do nothing to stop the building from toppling, that the attacks had been unexpected and it was all the Red Fury's fault. He also confirmed that the rumors they had been following were true, that it was indeed Kirishima, and after they left his hospital room, he almost wished he would have lied about that too.

They tried to keep him for overnight observation, but he refused, storming out after they had assessed that he had no broken bones, then took the late night subway to his penthouse apartment that the Commission had given him once he'd broken into the top ten. He and Kirishima had lived there together for six months before Kirishima had gone away.

As he barged in, slamming the door shut behind him and throwing all of his gear haphazardly on the table, the small ball of white fluff on the couch looked up at him with half-open eyes and decided that she was uninterested in him, then went back to sleep. Fucking Mango. The cat had always liked Kirishima more anyway. He wasn't sure why he kept her around.

"Saw your piece of shit dad tonight," he said to her as he made his way to the kitchen. "Wish he would have paid me some fucking child support since you eat so damn much, you fat shit."

Mango purred and rolled over onto her back, her little paws sticking up in the air, and Bakugou rolled his eyes. He wished he didn't think she was so damn cute.

He threw open the cabinets searching for something to eat, but most of the shelves were bare. He hadn't been grocery shopping in nearly two weeks, he realized, but there was half a bottle of wine sitting out on the counter, which was fine by him as late dinner. He didn't even bother grabbing a glass to pour it in.

Plopping down on the couch next to Mango, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and stared at all of the notifications that he had received. There were messages coming from all forms of social media, some that he hadn’t even checked in months, things that only his PR manager bothered to look at. There were eight missed calls from Deku, five from Todoroki, and sixteen from the old hag, who always liked to bother him when he had just gotten back from a mission. Had the news started covering what happened already? How long had it been? Three, four hours?

Sighing, he deleted all of the notifications, ignoring the nearly two hundred text messages he had from various former classmates and pro heroes and the voicemails that were surely Deku and his mom screaming at him. He had no interest in talking to anyone else for the rest of the night. Maybe for the rest of the week.

Taking a big gulp of his wine and petting Mango between her ears, he navigated instead to a news site to see what was being reported about tonight’s events, and as soon as the front page popped up, a chill raced up his spine. There was Kirishima’s face staring back at him, though it was not the same person he had seen tonight. He was younger, happier, wearing his hero costume with his hair spiked up and his mouth twisted into a lopsided grin.

Reports have been pouring in since the collapse of the abandoned warehouse building in the Dagoba region just three short hours ago. Kaneko Masanori of the Hero Public Safety Commission has stated that the collapse was indeed caused by the notorious gang of villains that have been terrorizing the streets of Dagoba known as the Red Fury. There were no casualties reported from the incident as of right now. However, pro hero Dynamight sustained some injuries and is being treated as this is written.

Bakugou rolled his eyes. They were always quick on the draw, always throwing out information immediately instead of waiting for confirmation that everything they were reporting was correct. That was how the media worked, though. That’s how it had always worked. He remembered when he was around seven years old and a media hoax had come out saying that All Might had died, but it was just some rumor that an idiot troll on the Internet had created to get attention.

And the fucking Commission. God, he knew that it was important to get the information out there so that people could be safe and informed, but they ran their mouths way too fast too. Kirishima had pointed that out to him one time when they were together, how much the fucking losers in the suits liked to gossip but never wanted to do anything about it.

”I found out about Renjiro’s divorce before he did,” Kirishima had told him one time. “They fucking love to gossip. They’ll talk about anyone. They don’t have anything better to do besides talk shit about heroes. And each other.”

“Do they say anything about us?” Bakugou had asked, very aware of the knots in his stomach as he waited for the answer.

Kirishima looked almost hurt, troubled, as he had said, “Not to my face.”

Taking another swig of wine, he scanned through the rest of the article, which was littered with even more pictures of Kirishima than he cared to see right now: Kirishima when they were at U.A. together, Kirishima stooped in front of a crying child and offering her a yellow flower, and…oh. His stomach lurched painfully, and he felt like what little wine was in his belly was about to come right back up. It was a picture from their first mission together after they had graduated, a simple armed robbery that they had taken care of in mere minutes, but Kirishima had just been so damn happy about it, like they had just accomplished the greatest thing in the world. They stood outside the bank, Bakugou grumbling under his breath and looking incredibly irritated while Kirishima slung his arm over his shoulder, grinning and giving the camera person a thumbs-up. The big kiss that Kirishima had given him on his cheek seconds later was not featured.

According to Kaneko and reports from pro hero Dynamight, the Red Fury is currently being led by former U.A. student and pro hero Kirishima Eijirou, also known as Red Riot. Two years ago, he disappeared without a trace, and even after a massive manhunt that spanned the entirety of Japan as well as Europe and Asia, he managed to keep his identity under wraps until tonight. The question we ask ourselves now is this: what could have darkened our sweet Red Riot’s heart and made him turn to a life of crime? Fukuda Azumi will weigh in during our special report at 23:00 tonight.

The Red Fury has a long list of crimes that have just recently been connected to wanted criminals such as Orc and Lobo, going as far back as ten years ago and spanning anywhere from breaking and entering to kidnapping to mass murder. How much of this can we attribute to Red Riot, and how far back does his involvement go?

Bakugou immediately clicked out of the page and tossed his phone onto the coffee table. The wine bottle was almost completely empty, he realized, and Mango had made her way closer to him so that she could rest her head on his knee. She was staring up at him with wide, green eyes that seemed almost accusatory, like she was asking, Why didn’t you bring him home?

Fuck. He kicked the leg of the coffee table hard enough to make his phone tumble to the floor, and a dull pain shot up his leg that he ignored. How long had Kirishima been involved in all of this? What had been his breaking point? Bakugou had asked him, nearly begged him to assure him that he had no fault in this, just so that he could stop beating himself up about it and choking on guilt every night as he tried to sleep.

Kirishima hadn’t answered.

His phone started ringing again. A picture of Deku stared back at him on the screen, which just majorly pissed him off because he did not want to see that nerd’s face right now. He grabbed the phone up and declined the call as he finished off the bottle of wine. His stomach rumbled in protest, wanting food instead of alcohol, but he couldn’t find the strength to get up and do anything about it. Regardless of whether he was hungry or not, he had a feeling it would all just come right back up.

He couldn’t understand what had happened. When Kirishima first disappeared, he had done everything he could to try to find him, and when things were looking dim and hopeless, he spent countless nights asking himself what he had done to make his boyfriend just take off like that. He’d spent hours and hours going over the last few conversations they’d had in his head, and though they were stilted and a little off-kilter, there hadn’t been any red flags to notify him that Kirishima was going to take off like that.

And now that it was confirmed where Kirishima had been and what he was doing, he had to revisit those thoughts, forcing himself to remember every single detail of the night of his disappearance, any sort of signal that he hadn’t picked up on at the time that could have led to Kirishima’s fall into crime. But he was still coming up short. Sure, one of his moms had started getting sick, and yeah, there was that issue with the kid he found up in the mountains that ended up in foster care that had sort of pushed him into his depressive moods, but still. To give up his dreams of becoming a hero, of becoming the next Crimson Riot just because life started getting a little tough? It just wasn’t him. He couldn’t fathom what could have snapped inside of him.

“I was supposed to be the bad guy,” Bakugou said, his voice shaking as another tear rolled down his cheek. “Not you.”

Damn it, he was sick of crying. He wiped the tear away just as Deku’s face popped up on his phone screen again. Grunting under his breath, he declined the call again and stalked into the bathroom. What he needed was a warm shower to take his mind off of things, that was it.

His phone rang again, and he didn’t even bother to decline it this time as he stared at himself in the mirror. It was like a stranger staring back at him. He had always been pretty tough on himself, but damn, he was hideous. His hair and face were still coated with dust and dirt from the collapse, and no one had bothered to wipe off the dried blood that was caked onto his cheek and neck. The stitches in his forehead were dark against his pale skin; there were seven total. His red eyes looked dull and tired, not even reflecting any fire that usually burned inside of them. His lip was busted too, he realized, and there was a bruise starting to form on his left cheek. Kirishima hadn’t even really landed a hit on him, so he wasn’t sure where all of that was from.

Another phone call, this time from his dad. He groaned, rubbing at his temples as he squeezed his eyes shut. He was starting to get a headache, and despite everything, his mind was flooded with images of Kirishima, and not just the Kirishima that he used to know. Fuck, he couldn’t lie to himself even if he tried. That husky, raspy whisper in his ear, the warm breath against his skin, that playful little smirk that had twisted Kirishima’s lips…it had all stirred something inside of him, something that had been lying dormant for a long while and was finally waking up. It made him hate himself, but he couldn’t deny it: no matter what Kirishima was doing, no matter what awful crimes he had committed in the past, he was still hopelessly, desperately in love with him.

What kind of hero did that make him? Not a good one. He would just have to fight harder, do better, turn off whatever was going on within him. He hadn’t even liked romance until Kirishima had come along and shaken his entire worldview upside down. He had even adamantly told himself time and time again that sex was disgusting and he was not interested…until he saw Kirishima naked for the first time and kind of thought it wouldn’t be so bad.

Text message. Kaminari.

Kaminari(22:18): dude are you ok??? I didn’t really get a chance to talk to you.
Kaminari(22:19): fuck this is insane i don’t even know what to say…
Kaminari(22:19): text me back as soon as you can! Could really use a friend rn. I’m kinda freaking out.
Kaminari(22:22): bakubro?? I know you probably feel like you’re rly alone right now, but you’re not. We’ve got each other, k? So if you wanna talk…
Kaminari(22:23): he was my best friend. Still is, I guess. I miss him…

Fuck. He pounded his fist against the sink, relishing in the soft sting that shook through his fingers. He hadn’t broken anything from punching Kirishima, but there were bruises, and he was pretty sure something was sprained.

Stripping off his clothes and tossing them into the hamper (he used to hate it when Kirishima threw his shit on the floor), he turned on the hot water and let it run for a second, staring blankly at it falling down before finally stepping in. He hissed at the feel of it on his bare skin, burning intensely, but he didn’t care. He’d always been okay with things being hot. Kirishima used to hate taking showers with him because he said it felt like lava, but he’d eventually gotten used to it.

His mind wandered back to their last night together, before he woke up the next morning and found all of Kirishima’s things gone and a note waiting for him at the end of the bed. Kirishima had been in an unusually good mood, so good that it had made him wonder if maybe he had just imagined him slipping into a depression over the past few weeks. As soon as Bakugou had walked into the apartment, exhausted from his overtime shift, Kirishima had immediately run across the space and tackled him in a hug so tight it felt like his bones were cracking.

”What the fuck are you doing?” Bakugou asked, hugging him back, albeit a little hesitantly.

Kirishima didn’t answer him, instead pressing a wet, sloppy kiss to his cheek, then his forehead, then his other cheek, and finally his lips. Bakugou sighed against him, and as Kirishima tried to pull away and rush off to whatever his next activity was, Bakugou grabbed his shirt and pulled him back in for a longer kiss. It felt nice, Kirishima’s arms wrapping around his waist, their chests pressed together, Kirishima’s tongue pushing past his lips into his mouth. They hadn’t really kissed like this in a while. It made his heart start racing and his head go a little dizzy.

“Mmm,” Kirishima hummed against his lips, finally pulling away and running eagerly over to the kitchen, where he already had two glasses of wine poured for them. He grabbed them and hurried back over, the liquid sloshing against the glass and coming dangerously close to spilling over the sides. “How was work today?”

“Fine,” Bakugou replied, accepting the drink and sipping at it tentatively. He almost wanted to smile at the change of atmosphere, but he was hesitant, worried that Kirishima had somehow gone manic. “Nothing exciting happened. How was your day off?”

“Good!” Kirishima exclaimed, nodding vigorously. “I cleaned the apartment and clipped Mango’s nails, and I started on dinner for us!”

Bakugou wrinkled his nose. “You don’t cook.”

“Yeah, so I made something simple. Salad and soup! You think that’s enough? I can make something else –”

“That’s fine.” Bakugou actually managed a smile and took Kirishima’s hand, drawing him in for another quick, chaste kiss. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Uh-huh. Never better.”

Had he decided by then? That he was going to leave? Had he decided long before then? Had he felt even an ounce of regret, of hurt looking into Bakugou’s eyes and knowing that he was walking out on him?

He sighed, running his hands through his wet hair as rivulets of water traced their way down his body. He should have known. He should have known that there was something wrong. Was there anything that he could have done differently to prevent this, to keep Kirishima off the list of the most wanted criminals?

He was shaking, he realized, despite the steam rolling off of him and filling up the space around him. He wrapped his arms around his chest, shivering, and stared at the blank wall in front of him. Kirishima had bought some of those markers for the shower one day, he remembered. He used to write notes for Bakugou to wake up to when he went in earlier than he did. It always made Bakugou feel stupid and giddy with love. Kirishima always wrote in red and black, Bakugou in green and orange.

”Come and dance with me.”

“I don’t dance.”

Kirishima poked his lower lip out in a pout, his shoulders drooping. “Katsuki, please?”

Bakugou tensed, but only for a moment. They hardly ever referred to each other by their first names, only in moments of passion or deep intimacy. His head swirled as his feet carried him forward to Kirishima’s outstretched hand. His brain was foggy, his limbs a little heavy from the wine. He took Kirishima’s hand, and Kirishima smiled and twirled him in a circle, then pulled him against his chest.

“There isn’t any music,” Bakugou said.

“There doesn’t have to be,” Kirishima replied. He held one of Bakugou’s hands in his own, their fingers intertwined, and the other rested on his hip as they swayed to nothing but the sound of their breath and their heartbeats mingling into one synchronized song.

“Does this really count as dancing?” Bakugou asked. “We’re barely moving.”

“Mm, that’s okay. I just want to hold you.”

His breath caught in his throat, his chest aching with the strain of air trying to escape from him. His lungs felt like they were drawing up, his heart going into overdrive, and he leaned his head against the wall, coughing slightly. His vision was swimming, his head pounding. He knew this feeling all too well, the deep panic that was swelling up inside of him. A doctor had prescribed him medicine for it, but he hadn’t taken it in a long time. He had convinced himself that life was getting better, that he was learning to move on.

“Shit fuck,” he murmured, beating his head against the wall. Everything in this apartment reeked of Kirishima. He had just gotten to the point where he could accept Kirishima’s absence, and now he was struck with this.

His phone vibrated on the sink. Someone was calling him again. If it was Deku, he was going to kill the little fucker next time he saw him. The last thing he needed was that idiot crying and sobbing and saying how sorry he was for him. Deku might have been friends with Kirishima, but he did not understand what Bakugou was going through right now.

No one did.

He shut the water off and got out, grabbing a towel to dry himself off. The call had been from his mom again, along with another voicemail.

“Damn it,” he growled, pressing the button to return her call. They fought a lot, but she was still his mom. She deserved to know that he was okay.

She picked up on the first ring. “Katsuki!” Her voice was harsh, almost angry, scolding. “What the fuck have you been doing? I’ve called you thirteen fucking times! What the hell –”

“I went to the hospital, then I came home and took a shower. Will you calm the fuck down?”

He heard her shaky intake of breath through the phone, prepared himself for the yelling, but instead, she asked, “Are you okay?”

“Sure.”

She scoffed. “No you’re not.”

He rolled his eyes and tossed his towel into the hamper, then opened the medicine cabinet as he balanced the phone between his ear and his shoulder. “What makes you say that?”

“Your ex is burning down buildings and going on a crime spree. And you’re gonna have to arrest him at some point.”

Bakugou snorted and grabbed a bottle of pills sitting on the top shelf. He’d picked them up at the pharmacy and hadn’t touched them for weeks. The doctor had prescribed it to him for sleep, and they had worked for a while, but then suddenly they didn’t. He opened the bottle and popped two pills into his mouth, dry swallowing them.

“Did you let him get away?”

“What the hell do you think?”

Silence. He thought about hanging up on her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that, so he left the bathroom and walked into the bedroom, where Mango had migrated to the nightstand and was cleaning herself. He rubbed at his eyes, slamming open a drawer to look for something to wear.

“Did he talk to you? Did he hurt you?”

“Yes and no. I don’t want to talk about him right now, Mitsuki.”

“What the hell did I tell you about calling me by my name, you little shit?”

He snorted a laugh and pulled on a black t-shirt. “I don’t remember. Refresh my memory.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing of substance. Look, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Mitsuki sighed heavily. “Katsuki, I know he meant a lot to you, but things have changed. Just don’t forget what you’ve been working toward, okay? You wanted to be like All Might. Would All Might let his ex get away like that?”

Bakugou licked his lips, hesitated for a moment. “No.”

“He’s not the same person you dated.”

“...I know.”

“I loved him too, you know. He was good to you.”

“Goodnight. Mom.”

“Katsuki–”

He ended the call and crawled underneath the sheets, not bothering to finish dressing for bed. What was the point? It wasn’t as if anyone was going to see him. He was here by himself. All alone. Just how he used to like it until Kirishima came along.

”You wanna fuck me just as bad as you did when we were dating.”

A shudder ran through Bakugou’s body, warming his bones. He sank into the mattress, pulling the blankets close around him as he recalled the feeling of Kirishima’s arms on either side of him, trapping him to that chair while his lips just barely brushed against Bakugou’s, only enough to tease him, to make him crave him. A pool of heat settled in his stomach and traveled down to his dick and his thighs. He sucked in a breath to stabilize himself, to try to clear his head, but he was flooded by Kirishima’s smell – just the slightest hint of smoke with cinnamon and something citrusy. It was invading his senses, making him dizzy. The feel of his skin brushing over him, his lips against his ear…

God, he was getting hard.

”I want to make love to you.”

“...okay?”

Kirishima wrapped his arms around Bakugou’s waist and hauled him over to his side of the bed, pressing a kiss to his neck and then nipping playfully at his ear. Bakugou laughed – actually laughed – and grabbed Kirishima’s face, tilting his head so that he could capture his lips in another kiss. They were both pretty drunk on the wine and on each other. Kirishima’s happiness was contagious.

“Like, actually make love,” Kirishima said. “Really slow and gentle.”

“Fine.”

“You don’t sound interested.”

“You’re just being weird about it.”

Kirishima shrugged, rolling Bakugou over onto his back and kissing him again. He smiled against his lips. “We’re usually just so…rough. I think you deserve to be treated well.”

“You treat me just fine, I promise. A little too good sometimes.”

Kirishima tilted his head to the side, something changing suddenly in his demeanor. “Hey, Bakugou? What are your plans for the future?”

Bakugou didn’t quite understand where the question had come from. He frowned, his eyebrows furrowing in the middle. “Kicking Deku’s ass and being the number one hero. Why?”

“No. I meant…with us.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

His heart pounded, and suddenly he felt like he had short-circuited like Kaminari did when he used his power too much. He cleared his throat, running a hand through Kirishima’s hair and pushing it out of his eyes, trying to keep eye contact but feeling the intensity, the intimacy, was just too much for him to bear. He looked away.

“I thought we could just keep doing this. If that’s okay.”

“No, yeah! This is great!” Kirishima let out a breath and settled on top of Bakugou, resting his head on his chest and looking up at him with sort of sad, thoughtful eyes. “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.”

“I’m obsessed with you, Bakugou. I’ve been obsessed with you since we were fifteen. You’re the center of my world.”

“Can I tell you something too?” Bakugou ran a hand down Kirishima’s back, and he felt the other man tremble against him. He’d never felt so content before, so at peace with the world. Kirishima was beautiful, and he was in love. He was so in love that it hurt. “I didn’t ever want to be in love until I met you. I thought it was a waste of time.”

“When did you know that you were in love with me, Katsuki?”

“I don’t think there was any one moment when I just knew. It just sort of happened.”

“Hmm.” Kirishima ran a finger over Bakugou’s chest, then kissed his chin. “You wanna know when I knew I was in love with you?” He didn’t wait for Bakugou to answer. “It was when you called me Eijirou for the first time. I think you did it by accident because you weren’t really paying attention, but we were getting ice cream and you said, ‘Eijirou, what do you want? I’m buying,’ and that was it.”

“Ugh. That’s it? That’s…can it be something else? Like when I won the sports festival or when I got my pro hero license and you realized I was amazing?”

Kirishima smiled and shook his head. “Nope! I knew I loved you because my name sounded so good coming out of your mouth, and I wanted to hear you say it for the rest of my life.”

It struck Bakugou then how much of his life revolved around Kirishima, how wholly and completely his that he was. It seemed unnatural for one person to have so much power over him, and yet it made more sense to him than anything else in the world.
“Hey, Eijirou?”

“Hmm?”

“Make love to me.”

It was the softest, sweetest thing that had ever happened to him. Kirishima took his time with him, spending nearly an hour just touching and kissing every inch of his body that he could reach before finally sliding inside of him and making him cry out in pleasure like nothing he had ever felt before. Kirishima’s lips locked onto his, kissing him deeply with each slow, careful thrust. Bakugou ran his hands through his hair and over his shoulders, scraping softly at his skin instead of gouging him like he normally did. Kirishima whispered to him, sometimes compliments, sometimes little jokes that made him laugh.

He wasn’t even sure how long they stayed like that, tangled up in one another and exploring each other’s bodies in ways they had never bothered to do before, but by the time his climax hit him, he was sleepy and comfortable and wanted nothing more than to just stay there wrapped up in Kirishima and never leave his bed again. He didn’t care about hero work, didn’t care about all the work he had been putting into reaching number one. All that mattered was this.

“Fuck,” Bakugou hissed under his breath, rolling onto his side and throwing open the bottom drawer of the nightstand. Mango leaped up in surprise and sprinted out of the room.

He never really masturbated. It wasn’t anything that had interested him when his hormones were supposed to be going crazy as a teenager, and it certainly didn’t interest him now, but the thought of Kirishima was enough to make him reevaluate himself as he dug through the drawer and grabbed a half empty bottle of lube that had been sitting there for months.

Flipping open the cap, he squeezed some of the cool gel onto his fingers and cursed at the sensation of it on his skin. He thought maybe the medicine was starting to kick in because he kind of felt a little limp and loose, and his eyes fluttered halfway shut as he rubbed his fingers together, warming up the gel. An image of Kirishima flitted through his mind, his red eyes bearing down on him with some sort of pain and twisted darkness shining within them as his gaze traveled over Bakugou’s body.

“I. Fucking. Hate. You,” he grumbled, twisting his body so that he was lying on his side. He hitched his leg up so that it was pressed against his chest and took his cock in his hand, letting his fingers slide slowly and tentatively along the length. It gave him only the slightest bit of relief. It had never been all that enjoyable when he did it anyway.

As his one hand stroked along his hot, flushed cock, the other caressed over the back of his thigh, fingers tapping against his skin, hesitating. Then slowly, he pulled his leg further out of the way, spreading his cheeks, and pressed at his tight rim. There was a slow burn that made his jaw drop and a soft gasp fall from his lips, and he squeezed his eyes shut, flinching.
Kirishima sometimes took him from behind like this when he was on his side. His fingers were so much bigger than Bakugou’s, and they opened him up wide with little to no effort and left him groaning and panting in a matter of seconds. He imagined Kirishima now as he pushed one finger inside himself, gasping at the pain of it: the way he looked when they were training, his skin gleaming with sweat, the little half smile that graced his lips, the playful light in his eyes. He was fine for a long time training with Kirishima, and then suddenly one day he was noticing everything about him – the way his muscles flexed in his thighs, the slight tilt of his head and the long stretch of his neck, the slow breath he let out right before he leaned in to an attack.

His hips bucked forward into his fist involuntarily, once, then twice, sloppy and erratic. His walls clenched around his finger, and he groaned, throwing his head back against the pillow, then pushed a second finger inside and hissed a curse under his breath. It was too much for him to handle and not enough all at once. Imagining that it was Kirishima behind him and spreading him open aided him in his endeavors. His hand moved faster over his dick, his thumb stopping to trace over the flushed, leaking head and catch precome that was dripping onto the bed. It would have pissed him off normally, making such a mess, but he couldn't stop himself, not at this rate. Not with Kirishima so heavy on the brain.

Everything he did was fucking fascinating. The way he nibbled on his pencil when he was thinking, the way he would look up at Bakugou with this soft little smile and roll his eyes while he was doing paperwork, the way he tapped his long, heavy fingers on the table. He used to sit on the kitchen counter and swing his legs against it while Bakugou was cooking dinner, talking about anything and everything at a million miles a minute and peppering in random compliments just to see Bakugou blush.

God, he was all over this apartment. No matter where Bakugou looked, Kirishima's ghost hovered, awakening memories within him that he had tried with all his might to keep locked away.

Another tear slipped down his cheek. He picked up speed, his hips stuttering against his hand with each off-rhythm thrust as he worked himself open, crying out at the feel of his fingers weighing heavily inside of him, curling and uncurling against his slick inner walls.

"I love it when you come apart for me like this."

It was like he was practically there, whispering in his ear and biting into his skin with those ridiculously sharp teeth of his. The thought of him sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin of his throat made a deep whine tumble from his lips, and he threw his head back with a sigh, rolling onto his back as he continued to fuck his hole open as best he could. He added a third finger, felt the tip of it brush his prostate, and his hips left the bed, chasing the friction of his hand gliding smoothly over his cock. He could feel the heat intensifying in his stomach, unfurling like a ball of yarn and spreading through all of his limbs. His vision was growing fuzzy. The world seemed to be shifting and spinning at a wild, untamed speed. He was getting close, he could tell.

"You wanna fuck me just as bad as you did when we were dating." His eyes lingering. His tongue darting out over his lips like he was looking at a particularly delicious meal.

Kirishima's fingers always felt so rough and calloused against his body, but he relished it, loved the way they wrapped around his thighs and kneaded into his skin. Even when they were rough, he was careful, always kind enough to stop and ask to make sure Bakugou was okay. He knew Bakugou shied away from intimacy, didn't need it in the same way he did, and he was so generous, so caring, always putting Bakugou first no matter what, even if Bakugou took and took and took from him. He was so fucking selfish, so entitled, never looking past the extent of his own wants and needs to care about anyone else, and yet Kirishima had fallen for him anyway, and he didn't deserve it, not even a little bit --

"Fuck you," Bakugou gasped, his voice broken, and the heat inside him snapped like lightning. His eyes squeezed shut as his orgasm trembled through his body and his mind went completely blank except for the sight of Kirishima lying next to him in bed, red hair messy from sleep and a lopsided smile resting on his face as he stared at Bakugou like he was the most beautiful person in the entire world.

"Eijirou…" he whimpered, gasping for air as he lay there staring at the ceiling, his vision obscured by fat, wet tears pooling and dripping down his cheeks. He hadn't cried like this in a long time. It hurt. Bad. It left him feeling hollow and numb, like he couldn't breathe, like everything around him was shutting down.

Why the fuck did he let him go? Why didn't he just bring him in and make him answer for his crimes? Why didn't he make him explain himself for what he did?

He wasn't sure how long he lay there like that, stuck in a post-orgasmic bliss that quickly settled into rage, but the sound of his phone vibrating snapped him back to reality, and he looked over to find Deku's smiling face staring back at him on the screen.

Jesus. That was a good way to get turned off.

Groaning, he pushed himself up into a sitting position and snatched the phone up, touching the screen to answer. "What?"

"Kacchan!" His voice was shrill, an octave too high, and Bakugou winced and drew the phone away from his ear. "Are you okay? I saw what happened, and Kaminari said you were in the hospital! Did he hurt you? Do you need anything? Shouto and I can come over --"

"No."

"No, don't come over?"

"Absolutely fucking not. I don't want to see you right now."

"I…" His breath hitched. He hesitated. "Look, none of us wanted it to be true, but now that we know it is, we kind of have to...you know. Do something about it."

Bakugou closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was so fucking tired of people telling him what he had to do. He'd been lectured by the Commission, bothered by Kaminari and Sero, his own fucking mother had put her two cents in...but hearing it from Deku was just too much.

"Fuck off, Deku. I don't need you to tell me what has to be done. I fucking know, okay? We have to get him off the streets before he hurts anyone else. And I don't need your fucking sympathy either, got it? I'm fine. He got away this time, but next time I see him, his ass is going to jail. I'm handling it."

Silence on the other line. He thought he heard someone else's voice in the background, maybe Icy Hot, which made his blood boil even more than it already was, and he clenched his shaking fist and pounded it against the mattress, waiting impatiently for the star child to respond.

"I know this can't be easy for you. You guys were...well, it was like a match made in heaven. It just made sense. Kirishima meant a lot to you, I know, and I'm sorry --"

"I told you I don't need your sympathy. I'm fine. More than fine. I can't fucking wait to see him again so I can kick his ass and watch him get taken away in handcuffs. It'll be the best damn day of my life."

His skin itched with the lie. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest. It tasted like there was blood pooling on his tongue, and then he realized that there was. He was biting his lip really hard and had broken skin.

"O-okay," Deku said, voice rising in pitch again. "I hear you, but I think maybe you're hurting right now, and --"

"I'm fucking over it, okay? I've had plenty of time to get over it, and I just want to put an end to it. So shut your damn mouth and --"

There was a knock at the door. The sound of it echoing through the empty apartment made Bakugou’s muscles tense, and he sat up quickly, staring off into the dark apartment and listening for any other sounds.

People didn't visit him. If he ever wanted to see anyone (he usually didn't), he went to them. The sound of someone at the door made his heart leap into his throat and goosebumps rise along his skin.

"Kacchan? Everything okay?"

"I told you not to fucking come over." He got up from the bed, grabbing a pair of pajama pants on the way out of the room as another knock sounded.

"I'm in my apartment. Is there someone there?" Deku asked.

"Yes." Bakugou paused by the couch, staring at the door as he mentally went through a list of who might be here visiting him: Kaminari, possibly, or maybe Mina since they never showed up at the bar and he didn't call her; his mom, who could have easily made her way across town in very little time if she was angry enough; someone from the Commission or a police officer with some followup questions. This didn't necessarily mean that he was under attack just because it was unusual.

"Are you okay? Who's at the door?"

"Shut up, Deku. I haven't opened it yet."

"Okay, but --"

He hung up the phone and tossed it aside, not caring what the other man had to say about the situation. Besides, if this was an attack, he needed to be on high alert. He couldn't do that with Deku crying in his ear.

Another knock. He lightly padded over to the door and peered out the peephole to see a man he didn't recognize waiting in front of the door. He looked harmless enough, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet impatiently and whistling the tune to some pop song. He was carrying a bouquet of camellias and irises that looked like it had been hastily thrown together.

He threw open the door, glaring at the man intensely enough to make him recoil. "What the fuck are you doing? It's almost midnight."

"S-sorry," the guy stuttered, eyes widening as he offered up the bouquet. "I was just getting ready to close down the shop when this order came in. Said it was urgent and I needed to make sure to deliver it tonight."

The temperature of the hallway seemed to drop significantly. Bakugou gazed down at the beautiful reds and purples mingling together in front of him, hesitating to take it in case this was some sort of trap. "Who made the order?" he asked.

"Not sure. Paid me a hell of a lot though." The guy chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Did you talk to them?"

"Yeah. It was some guy. Looked a little familiar, but what do I know?" He smiled, offering the bouquet, and Bakugou took a step back, eyeing him warily. "Holy shit! You're Dynamight! Oh man, my roommate is not gonna believe this! I've never delivered to a pro hero before! And you're number four, right?"

"Shut up." Bakugou snatched the bouquet out of his hands, deciding he would take the risk, and found a note shoved in the middle of it, scrawled on a small, yellow notecard decorated with little birds. The handwriting was incredibly familiar to him. He could have picked it out from thousands with no problem. No one he knew wrote this sloppily or with so much haste, like time was running out on him.

It was good seeing you tonight. I've missed you, Katsuki. Hope to see you again really soon.

"Secret admirer?" the delivery guy asked.

Bakugou rolled his eyes. "Get the fuck out of here."

"Sorry!" he squeaked. "Have a good night! Thanks for saving the city! Although..do you think you could sign --"

"Get. Out."

The man scurried off down the hallway, not even bothering to wait for the elevator as he bolted down the staircase. Bakugou slammed the door and locked it behind him, clutching the bouquet in a sweaty, shaking hand.

Mango approached him, rubbing against his leg and purring like she was asking him if he was okay, like everyone in his life had been constantly asking for two damn years, and he couldn't take it anymore. He screamed, tossing the flowers across the room and watching them hit the wall with a satisfying thud.

The sleeping pills did not help him. He laid awake all night staring at the ceiling and thinking about how much he hated Kirishima. He couldn't wait to put him behind bars.

Chapter Text

When he arrived at the Commission meeting the next morning, Deku and Icy Hot were already there, accompanied by their lousy sidekicks, Four Eyes and Bird Man. No sign of Kaminari or Sero, which was strange since they had been there with him. He didn't question it though. The fewer people, the better.

Takahashi Ichiro, the man leading operations on this case, stood to greet him as he entered the room, but Bakugou merely grunted and brushed right past him, making a beeline for the coffeemaker.

"Good morning, Bakugou," Icy Hot said, his tone low and even but still too cheery for Bakugou’s liking. He didn't even want to look at him. He didn't want to look at anyone. He felt like if he did, he would unravel at the seams.

"Are we good to get started?" Takahashi asked as Bakugou took a seat next to Four Eyes with his large cup of black coffee.

"Yes, please," Deku replied, nodding and shooting a concerned look at Bakugou that Bakugou very much purposefully ignored.

There were printouts sitting in front of them with data that had been gathered on the Red Fury, along with a box of file folders and stills that ranged from mugshots to blurry pictures taken on security cameras. He noticed one in front of him of a man in a black hoodie whose face was almost completely obscured, but he knew the shape of Kirishima’s body, he knew the way he stood.

"Where was this?" he asked, holding up the shot.

"Why don't we go over last night's events before --"

"Where. Was. This?"

Takahashi frowned, obviously not sure how to proceed, then sighed and took the picture from Bakugou’s hand, examining it. "Two weeks ago, outside the home of Mori Kanako."

"The lady whose house burned down and her daughter went missing?" Four Eyes asked very seriously, his brows furrowing with concern.

"The very same. Suspected kidnapping and arson. The security camera picked up this image, but no one could identify this person." Takahashi looked up at Bakugou, eyebrows rising so high they almost disappeared into his hairline. "Is this Red Riot?"

Bakugou had heard about the incident, of course. Mori Kanako's husband, who worked at a bank, had just gotten caught in some shady business overseas and was being brought in for questioning. If he was working with the Red Fury, it didn't make much sense that they would torch his house and take his kid. Unless he was working for some rival gang of villains, which could be the case, although they had yet to pry much information out of the man. Kanako had been quiet herself, keeping locked away and carefully avoiding any media coverage. Bakugou remembered seeing her daughter's picture on the news, a young girl of about fourteen or fifteen, remembered how it had sparked some deep, unsettling feeling in his gut seeing her blank, carefree face staring back at him.

Kirishima's photos had flooded the news for months before the media moved on to something else. When the story grew stale, they tended to stop caring.

"Yes," he replied, taking the photo back from Takahashi. "It's him."

Deku gaped at him in wonder, snatching the picture so quickly that Bakugou contemplated breaking his hand. If he picked up on Bakugou’s annoyance, he showed no sign of it. "This is crazy! What do you think he was doing?"

"Probably doing what villains do," Bakugou seethed, snatching the photo back. "He was probably scoping the place out before he burned it down."

"But why would he --"

"Why would he do anything that he's been doing?" Bakugou slammed the picture on the table so loudly that it made Iida jump. Tokoyami merely crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, studying him with his dumb, beady bird eyes that seemed to see more than Bakugou wanted him to see. "We've got this whole list of shit that may or may not be attributed to him -- including the murder of that CEO from LavaTech -- and you're wondering what made him burn down a house and take a kid? Tch."

“I guess we first need to find out how long Kirishima has been with them,” Takahashi said. “He’s been missing for…two years, correct? Has he been with them the whole time, or is this something recent?”

All eyes turned to Bakugou, as if they expected him to somehow know the answer, and he stared down at the dark swirl of his coffee, hands curling tightly around the cup. He had no answers about anything. He couldn’t understand any of it.

“At least two weeks, right?” he said with a low, mirthless laugh. “Unless you have him linked to something else?”

Takahashi’s lip trembled a little bit as he stared at Bakugou, mouth opening and closing as he debated what he was going to say. Finally, he sighed and grabbed a file folder beside him, tossing it across the table to Bakugou. “Do you recognize this kid?”

Bakugou frowned and opened the folder to find a photo of a young child staring back at him, and he immediately felt his stomach drop like a stone. It was a young boy, about five or six years old, with a shock of light blue hair and wide, terrified yellow eyes. His face was bruised, his nose broken, his lip cracked. It looked like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. There were dark bags under his eyes, which were sunk deeply into his skull.

“What is this about?” Bakugou asked, trying to keep his voice level, but it broke at the end.

He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, scorching into him, and he tried not to look over at them. Deku leaned onto the table, peering around Icy Hot and Iida, and Tokoyami had his elbows on the table and his head resting on his fists. They could see it all over him, he knew, but he couldn’t contain the anxiety that suddenly flooded him, the pounding of his heart, the roaring of blood in his ears.

“Ichikawa Taiyo,” Takahashi said slowly, deliberately, as if he was explaining to a child. “Orphaned at age five and ran away after his parents died in a car crash. No immediate family. A certain pro hero found him while pursuing a villain in the mountains two and a half years ago.”

“Kirishima?” Deku asked.

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Yes, dumbass. He was with Amajiki that day.”

“So what’s he got to do with this?” Icy Hot asked, fingers tapping loudly – annoyingly – against the table.

Takahashi glanced at Bakugou out of the corner of his eye, then immediately dropped his gaze. He swallowed, his throat bobbing. “Kirishima spoke to us about taking on the responsibility of caring for him. He thought the boy had potential to be a pro hero one day. The recruitment office denied his request, and Taiyo was entered into the foster care system.”

“You’re still not giving us any useful information,” Bakugou growled as he flipped through the pages of the file. All intake paperwork from foster care, along with his birth certificate, data collected on his family, and statements from Amajiki and Kirishima about what led to finding him in the mountains.

He had heard this story a million times, seen Kirishima moping over this kid for months before moving on, agonizing about it like it was somehow his fault that the kid was an orphan. He had always been like that, taking responsibility for things that weren’t his to take responsibility for, blaming himself for shit that didn’t make sense or even matter. He was an empath in a completely unironic way, and though he had a tendency to look on the bright side of things, something about this ate him up inside. Bakugou had almost suggested adopting the kid just to make him happy, even though he had never in a million years wanted kids.

“Taiyo is gone,” Takahashi said, steepling his fingers in front of his face as he leaned forward, his face growing solemn. “He’s been gone for four months. His foster family thought he might have run away again, but there are certain aspects about the case that simply don’t add up. For instance, the alarm system at the house was turned off, and police later found that the latch on his bedroom window had been broken as if someone had entered from outside.”

Bakugou sipped his coffee, the bitter taste of it making his stomach turn. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate. “I don’t understand what you’re suggesting. Kirishima is kidnapping people? That doesn’t make any sense. He visited Taiyo once a week, at least. He and Amajiki went together. I went with him a few times. He was fine. And what about the Mori girl? What did she have to do with anything?”

“We haven’t gotten that far yet,” Takahashi replied. “We’re still collecting information. However, I have good reason to believe that he’s behind it.”

Bakugou was silent as he continued to flip through pages, finally finding copies of newspaper clippings reporting Taiyo’s disappearance. He didn’t even remember seeing anything about this. He was just a foster kid, after all, an orphan. Why would the media care about that?

“So if we can link him to the Red Fury for at least four months, then he would be responsible for that attack at the park?” Deku asked, voice quivering just slightly with tears that had not yet spilled over. Bakugou rolled his eyes at him. Despite being the number one hero and possibly the strongest person he knew, Deku still cried all the fucking time about everything.

“Yes,” Takahashi answered. “If we can assume that he’s been the leader that long. Again, we don’t have that sort of information. That’s why we have to work with several pro heroes to apprehend them as quickly as possible. What terrifies me…” Takahashi paused, possibly for dramatic effect, which was just the way of the Hero Commission. All about theatrics and images. It was bullshit, but it was bullshit that Bakugou had resigned to deal with. “...is that he has so much information on us. If something went wrong that made him turn against us, then he could certainly stage an attack with very little issue.”

"What made him leave?" Iida asked. "Kirishima was such an amazing hero with a bright future ahead of him. Why would he --"

Bakugou pushed back from the table, clearing his throat rather loudly as he went back to the coffeemaker to refill his cup. He wasn't sure why; he hadn't finished it, and he was feeling sick enough as it was.

"He seemed fine," Icy Hot said. "Sad sometimes, I guess. Bakugou, I know we've discussed this in the past, but did he --"

"No." He had his back turned to them, but they were staring again, he could feel it. He poured his coffee, staring blankly at it but not really feeling anything. His brain was running in so many directions that he couldn't seem to grab on to one thought. "He didn't say anything to me. I didn't even know he was leaving. Stop asking me. The answer hasn't changed."

Iida sighed and pushed his glasses up to rub at his eyes. His face was flushed from stress. "I just don't understand it. There had to be something that we're overlooking. What did he say to you last night?"

"Nothing." Bakugou rounded on them, sipping at his coffee, and frowned as he made eye contact with Deku. Deku was studying him, trying to figure him out like he had been doing since they were kids. Taking mental notes. Pretending he understood. "It was mostly a bunch of yelling, and then we fought, and the building came down."

The room was silent for a long moment. Takahashi gathered some of his loose pages and stacked them on top of each other as Icy Hot and Deku exchanged glances they thought no one would notice.

Bakugou was starting to think that Kirishima hadn't actually been with the Red Fury that long. He left a note saying that he wasn't cut out to be a hero, but he didn't think he just walked out to become a villain. It seemed so, so unlike him. No matter which way he looked at it, he couldn't fit the pieces together. Something had to have happened, some trigger. He just needed to find out what it was.

And then he was going to kick Kirishima's ass for putting them through this shit.

"Well, clearly taking down the Red Fury is important, but I wouldn't say they're our top priority," Takahashi said, smoothing his already flawless suit jacket. "There are more important matters to attend to, and it seems that their attacks have been few and far between in the past several months. It's concerning; it makes me feel like they're planning something big. However, there are worse terrorist groups that we should focus on."

Bakugou grimaced, tossing his empty cup in the trash. It didn't sit well with him, calling them a terrorist group. He was angry, yeah, and he felt a lot of hate toward Kirishima that threatened to consume him on a daily basis, but Kirishima wasn't a terrorist. He was…

He didn't really know what he was anymore. A villain. That was it, plain and simple. And he needed to be stopped.

"We'll set up a task force that I'll meet with every few days to plan out our strategies and work toward apprehending the members of the Red Fury," Takahashi said. He sighed, then took in a shaky breath as if he was preparing to deliver some bad news. He first turned his attention to Deku. "We need you elsewhere, so if it's quite alright, I'd like to use Tokoyami and Iida for this."

"You don't have to ask for my permission!" Deku exclaimed with a nervous laugh. "As long as they're okay with it, then so am I!"

"I'm more than willing to help," Iida said, to which Tokoyami nodded in agreement.

"Perfect. I'll contact Shouji as well. We'll need someone that can help with recon." Takahashi chewed his lip, then looked up at Bakugou, his mouth turned down into a fairly worried frown. "Bakugou, I think you might be too close to this, which is why I'll have to ask you to step down."

It felt like he had just been punched. He stared, wide-eyed, unsure if he had heard the man correctly. When he'd contacted the Commission to get permission to go out last night, they had been more than willing, maybe because they thought he of all people could talk Kirishima down. But he didn't go there to talk him down. He went there because he wanted a fight, he wanted the screaming, the rage, the explosions, the bruises. He wanted to see fear in Kirishima's eyes. He wanted to make him suffer.

But he would have been okay without it, because really, all he wanted was to see him, to know that even if he was fucking around with shit he didn't understand, he was alive.

That didn't mean that he wasn't going to do his job, though. It didn't matter that he was his ex, it didn't matter that he still thought about him endlessly, that he was still certain he was in love with him, because when it came down to it, he was still a villain. He would take care of it.

Why couldn't they understand that?

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he said, taking a step closer to the table. Takahashi flinched, but his gaze never wavered. "You think I let him go, don't you? You don't trust me."

"It's not that. It's just--"

"I've proven my loyalty to you! I do whatever I have to do to stay in your good graces and not lose my fucking license! I might do things my way, but that doesn't fucking mean --"

"It isn't a question of loyalty, Bakugou." Takahashi held his hands up in surrender, as sort of a placating gesture, but it just fanned the flames even more, made Bakugou feel crazy with rage. It burned hot in his chest, made his vision go black around the edges, made him want to scream, to throw something, to shake this man and throw him across the room like a ragdoll just to get his point across because it wasn't fair, it wasn't right. If anyone needed to be the one to knock Kirishima on his ass and beat some sense into him, it should be him. He deserved it. "We know that if it came down to it, you would do your job. It's just...you have a history. He was your best friend--"

"Boyfriend." He never let them get away with that shit, no matter how angry he was. They loved ignoring Bakugou and Kirishima's relationship, well before all of this happened. It got Kirishima down sometimes.

Takahashi floundered for words for a moment, then nodded and said, "Boyfriend, yes." Like it was a problem, like it somehow hurt him to say it. Bakugou wanted to hurl him out the window. "He was your boyfriend, and sometimes when there is a history there, it can blind you --"

"I can see perfectly clearly," Bakugou growled, slamming his hands onto the table, "and I'm going to handle it. I don't need you, and I don't need Four Eyes or the bird. I can do this myself."

Takahashi’s expression darkened, his eyes flashing dangerously. "You'd do well to lower your voice and watch what you say to me. I can suspend your license, you know."

They stared at one another for a long moment, the air crackling with tension, waiting for the other to break, but Bakugou wasn't going to break. He never had before, and he wouldn't start now. Not when some useless guy in a suit was telling him he wasn't good enough to take care of his ex, like this was somehow out of his skill set.

Deku rose, placing his hand on Bakugou’s arm. "Kacchan--"

"Don't. Fucking. Touch. Me." He jerked away, finally breaking eye contact with Takahashi to glare at the star child who had captured the hearts of civilians while Bakugou struggled to stay in the top ten. Fucking Deku. He couldn't stand to look at him right now. All of his feelings were tangling, all of these memories that had lain dormant in his mind for years resurfacing with a frightful force. He wanted to beat the hell out of Deku, and then he wanted to find Kirishima and snap him in half. He didn't care who got in his way.

"You know it's a bad idea," Deku said, ignoring the harsh tone of Bakugou’s voice. He had always been pretty good at that. "We were his friends too, but you...you meant so much to him. It just makes things difficult. They're trying to help you, Kacchan. It's going to be hard--"

"Don't you think I fucking know that? What, you think I can't deal with it?"

"That isn't it, it's just --"

"Save it. I don't need this shit. You idiots go ahead and do what you need to do. But don't you dare fucking cry to me when he kicks your ass because we damn well know he's better and stronger than both of you combined."

"That's rude," Iida said, "and I think you underestimate our ability to --"

"I've got a shift to get to, so if you'll kindly excuse me…" He glared at Takahashi, making sure to put as much venom behind it as he could, then flipped Iida off and stormed out of the room, not bothering to look behind him as he slammed the door shut.

That was fine. Whatever. He didn't need their permission to go after Kirishima. He had a feeling Kirishima would come to him anyway.

He would deal with the consequences later.

His shift was long and boring. He spent most of it perched on top of the quiet, hollow building that had been his agency for five months now, but it didn't really feel like an agency, so he hardly ever went inside. There were two assistants who handled most of the paperwork and answered calls and emails, but he hardly ever spoke to them. One of them was scared of him, always jumping if he raised his voice even slightly. She had come up to the roof to approve a phone interview with Bakugou earlier that afternoon. An hour before, he had helped an elderly woman get her groceries to a taxi, but other than that, he had little to do and not enough action to take his mind off of the fact that he had been kicked off of the Red Fury case. He spent the entire day in a bitter rage, hoping for trouble so he could beat someone's ass but never finding it.

At seven that evening, he finally decided to leave, giving up on finding villains for the time being. If the Commission wasn't going to let him be present in the Red Fury case, then he would just start doing research himself. He would find Kirishima before they did, prove to them that he was better than the bird and the class rep, that he could handle things on his own.

As he made his way down the street, he studied each stranger he passed, wondering if one of them could possibly be linked to Kirishima, if someone had some sort of information they could share with him. He kept hoping -- though he knew that it was in vain -- that he would catch a glimpse of a familiar face, of red hair sticking out from underneath a black hood and a stupid, playful smile that melted away all of his hard edges. But he didn't see anything.

As he boarded the subway to get home, he got a phone call. He had half a mind to ignore it, especially since he had been doing his best to avoid Kaminari ever since last night and really didn't want to talk to anyone who had been at that meeting, but it was Ashido's face on his caller ID, and she had, surprisingly, not been bothering him. He decided he would give her a chance and hang up on her if she got too talkative, which was almost guaranteed.

"What?"

She was unfazed by his irritation. "Hey, Bakubabe!" He could practically see her smiling, could feel her joy through the phone, and it made him nauseous. "How's it going?"

"Don't call me that."

"Aww, you love it! Listen, I was just gonna see if you wanted to go out for a drink with me. Ya know, since we didn't get to last night." She chuckled, like this was all some sort of joke. It got under his skin, made him itch.

"I'm busy right now. I don't want to hang out with you."

"Oh, come on! It'll be fun! You and I both know that you need a break more than anyone right now, and I'm buying." She paused, and she was so quiet that Bakugou almost thought she had hung up on him, which was definitely not cool; he was supposed to be the one hanging up on people. Then she said, "We don't have to talk about Kirishima."

He frowned, leaning against the window of the subway and bumping into someone, who shot him a rather dirty look then scooted away. "Good. Because I'm done talking about him."

"Fine. I don't want to talk about him either. So how about a drink? Meet me at that bar close to your apartment?"

There was no harm in it, he thought, and for the first time, someone was offering not to ask about Kirishima or even lecture him on what had happened or what was going to happen, which was a huge relief. Plus, he got free drinks out of it, so he could probably deal with her mindless chattering if he could get blackout drunk and forget this entire day even happened. If he could just forget Kirishima's face, even for a few hours.

Still, it was curious that Ashido, of all people, didn't want to talk…

"Fine. No talking about Kirishima. That's the only rule."

"Fine. No talking about Kirishima."

"See you in a few minutes."

"Sure, babe. See ya."

Mina sat across from him sipping the remnants of her momoshu, humming contentedly to herself and nodding her head along to the classic rock song playing over the speakers. She wore a casual sweater dress that fell to her mid-thigh, meaning she probably hadn't had a shift today, and she had her legs up in the booth, stretching out comfortably like it was her own home. They'd been there for five minutes, and Mina had only said hello to him and ordered her drink. It was deeply unsettling.

"Mm," Mina said, finally finishing off her drink and leaning forward with a grin. "I have got some gossip for you. So you know how Tsu won that award last weekend for her search and rescue accomplishments at that shipwreck? Well, a little birdie told me -- no pun intended -- that she was seen leaving the ceremony with a certain dark, handsome hero with a shadow friend. If you catch my drift." She winked, flagging down a waiter so that she could order another drink.

"Tsu and Tokoyami?" His fists clenched in his lap, and he rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall. He didn't care for gossip on a regular basis, but he certainly didn't want to hear anything about it if it concerned Tokoyami. Why the fuck did he get to stay on the case?

"Uh-huh! Isn't that insane? I never would have guessed, but you know how things are. We're all growing up and changing, and…" She sighed, placing her head in her hand as she studied him with her wide, dark eyes. "It's just crazy where we all ended up, you know? I mean, we used to hang out all the time when we were in school, but I feel like I barely see you anymore!"

Bakugou scoffed, throwing his feet up in the booth as he swirled his beer around. He still hadn't had anything to eat. Drinking alcohol on an empty stomach probably wasn't a good idea, but he didn't care so much about making good decisions anymore. "We never hung out."

"Sure we did! When it was me and you and Kaminari and Sero and Shinsou."

Bakugou glanced up at her, their eyes meeting for a long, tense moment. They had agreed not to talk about Kirishima, but erasing him out of their history altogether seemed…wrong. They couldn't just pretend he didn't mean something to them, no matter how hard they tried to push it down. She knew it, too. He could see it all over her face, the desire to say his name, the fear of speaking it out loud, as if it would somehow summon him.

"Oh! I ran into Kendou the other day! She's got a cameo in a movie coming out soon! Isn't that crazy? Ugh, I'm so jealous of her, but I'm also really happy for her. She works hard." The waiter returned with Mina's drink, and she took it and thanked him, immediately downing nearly half of the glass. She grinned, wiping at her mouth. There was a slight red flush to her cheeks. "Hey, there's this movie coming out soon that I've heard really good things about! It's a rom-com, of course, but we should all totally go to see it! Doesn't that sound like so much fun?"

"I'm not much for rom-coms," Bakugou said. "If we're going to the movies, we're going to see something good. Like that new horror movie coming out. The one with the guy lost in the woods and he gets kidnapped by that cult. You know the one."

Mina made a face like she had just tasted something sour, then shook her head and drank some more. She was already on her third drink, while Bakugou had barely touched his first. "Ick. I never understood what you guys saw in that stuff. How about a compromise? We'll have a movie night at my place, and we'll watch some musicals. How does that sound?"

"Ugh." Bakugou rubbed at his temple, where a dull headache was starting to form. They used to watch musicals all the time in school. Late at night when everyone was asleep, Bakugou was always dragged out of bed and into the common area, where movies played on the big screen and his idiot friends performed alongside the actors like they were just as good.

Kirishima always liked The Greatest Showman and Mamma Mia. Oh, and High School Musical. God, there was so much High School Musical.

"This is nice, right?" Mina said, dancing a little in her seat. "Just the two of us hanging out. I've missed you! Tell me what's up with you. You've been kind of absent recently."

"Nothing is up with me. I work my shift, I go home, I sleep, I go back the next day."

Mina frowned, her pink pupils going wide for just a moment as she studied him. She was practically vibrating with energy, her whole body shaking like a live wire had been set off inside of her. Somehow, when she got drunk, she got louder and a whole lot friendlier, which was kind of annoying, especially when she tried to make friends with strangers at the bar. Bakugou would have to cut her off at some point.

"Come on, there's gotta be something interesting going on! How are Deku and Todoroki? Ooh, I saw Deku post on Instagram the other day that they were gonna be flying over to the U.S. for a meet and greet with some pro heroes. Isn't that so exciting for them?"

"Listen, not that I'm not enjoying our time together…" The sarcasm dripped from his lips. It took Mina by surprise for some reason. "But clearly there's an ulterior motive here. I know you didn't just want to hang out."

She hesitated, sitting completely still for the first time since they had entered the bar, her entire body tense. And then she smiled, a sort of lopsided, nervous smile that confirmed Bakugou’s accusation. "No ulterior motive. I've just missed you, that's all! And I thought you could use a break from everyone assaulting you with questions. I don't want to do that. I want to give you some peace. So --"

"You know something."

The corner of her eye twitched just slightly. It was barely noticeable, but Bakugou had been taught in his time as a pro to look for small details like that. Kirishima was always better than him at all that; he was much faster to rush into action and damn the consequences. But he was getting better at learning people's tells. Especially since so many people felt the need to tiptoe around him like he was going to fucking break at any moment.

She tapped her glass, leaned forward and took a sip from the little straw. "I know that that guy at the bar is totally checking you out."

He felt his shoulders tense, felt something settle in his chest, though he couldn't quite put a name to it. Mina always thought it was so cute and funny when strangers were looking at her, but Bakugou hated it. He didn't care for the "eyes meeting across a crowded bar" narrative. It was stupid, and he had no interest in hooking up with someone he didn't know. Unlike Sero, who seemed to find someone every time they went out. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

He didn't want to look, didn't want to make eye contact with this person, but he couldn't stop himself even if he tried because he wanted -- needed -- to shut this down quickly. And sure enough, there was a guy at the bar looking right back at him. He smiled, waved. Bakugou ignored him, settling his attention back on Mina. "How do you know he isn't looking at you?"

"Please." Mina rolled her eyes, finishing off her drink and crossing her arms over her chest. "He's only got eyes for you, babe."

Bakugou chanced a look at him again. He was tall, fit, maybe a few years older than them. Attractive? Sure, he supposed, though he didn't normally describe anyone as "attractive." He could appreciate the aesthetic without feeling any sort of inclination toward anyone.

"Why is he looking at me?" he asked, fingers curling on the edge of the table. A bead of sweat rolled down his face. "He's gotta be some freak fan, or maybe he's a villain --"

"Shut the hell up." Mina rolled her eyes again. "Maybe some people are just interested, you know? I mean, let's be serious. You're hot, babe. And you're kind of a catch. You don't seem to realize that, even with all of your arrogant bullshit and your dumb pride. I mean, my God, it took you months to understand that Kirishima had a crush --"

She paused, the word hanging heavy in the air. He heard her slight intake of breath, saw her pupils widen, her shoulders tense. They stared at each other for a long moment, Bakugou’s heartbeat accelerating as each second ticked by. He couldn't find any words, didn't want to be the first one to speak. He was honestly afraid of what might spill out with the tangle of emotions flooding him at that moment.

Mina eventually hung her head and sighed, folding her hands in front of her. She looked sheepish, so unlike herself for a moment that it was troubling. Finally, she sucked in a breath and said, "I wasn't totally honest with you. I did call you here for something. I've been keeping a secret."

A shudder ran up Bakugou’s spine, raising goosebumps along his neck. The air in the bar seemed to have shifted and seemed so, so much colder. They stared at each other for what must have only been a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. He shoved his hands into his lap so she wouldn't be able to see they were shaking. Something felt wrong.

"You? Keeping a secret? That's new." He rolled his eyes. "No way you could keep a secret from all of us."

Mina frowned, her eyebrows puckering in the middle. She seemed far too serious. It didn't suit her very well. It left a bad taste in Bakugou's mouth. He felt like he needed to be on guard, like something terrible was about to happen.

"I kept it a secret because I promised I would." She finished off her drink, stopping the waiter once again to order another. The waiter looked wary, but he obliged. "And when I make promises -- especially when it's one of my best friends -- I intend to keep them."

"So what's the secret then? And why do you think I would care?"

She snorted a laugh, though there was no humor behind it. "I would be really surprised if you didn't care. Just make me a promise. You'll let me finish before you start going into a psychotic rage, okay?"

"Fine." Something about this really rubbed him the wrong way, putting him on edge before he even knew what he was meant to expect. There was only one reason she would be acting like this, one topic of discussion that they both were too reluctant to bring up. And if it had to do with Kirishima…if someone two of his former classmates had gone to the dark side…

"Okay. So." She sat up straight, steepling her hands in front of her, all business now. There was a bleary sort of look in her eyes, but otherwise she was stone cold sober. "A few months ago, Kirishima stayed the night with me. Stop." She held up a hand to silence him, and for some reason, he obeyed her, though it felt like his entire world was spinning, like the walls of the bar were closing in on him and crushing him. He could barely breathe, only stared at her, waiting, that tangled mess of emotions only growing stronger until he felt like he was drowning. He couldn't even decide what he was feeling -- rage, betrayal, sadness, relief.

But overall, there was one question that remained, one that twisted inside of him and cut like a knife: if this was true, why had he gone to Mina? Why had he not come to Bakugou?

"I didn't expect him. He just...showed up at my door at midnight. He looked exhausted. I asked him where he'd been and what he had been doing, but he told me he wasn't going to answer my questions, he just needed a place to sleep for the night, then he would be gone. I had no idea that he was doing anything with the Red Fury, so of course I said yes!" Mina sucked in a breath. There were tears at the corners of her eyes now. All of the joy that usually radiated off of her was gone, replaced by bitter sorrow. "He told me I couldn't say anything, I had to swear it, and I said I couldn't just lie to you guys because you were missing him, but...he was adamant about me being quiet. So I promised. The next morning, he was gone. He didn't even say goodbye…"

She paused, a sob breaking through her words as a single tear rolled down her cheek. "Then all those rumors came out that he was with some gang of villains, and I just couldn't believe it! But it kind of makes sense, I guess. He asked me if being a hero was everything I thought it would be, and I said not really, but it's not so bad, you know? I mean...we help people, right? And he told me he helps people too, just maybe not in the same way, which I thought was really weird, but...Bakugou, god, you can't say anything to anyone! Not Kaminari, not Sero, not Deku. I'll be in huge trouble --"

"Why did he come to you?"

"I--what? I...don't know." She pursed her lips, shrugging slightly. "Maybe he was just desperate and went to the place closest to him."

His blood was screaming in his ears. His fingers twitched with some pent-up emotion that he wanted to let out, but he couldn't blow up the damn bar. He couldn't do anything. So he grabbed his beer and downed as much as he could in one gulp, his stomach rumbling in protest. "Why the fuck did you not try to talk to him more? Why didn't you try to get him to stay?" He slammed his hands on the table, making her flinch and her eyes grow wide. "Damn it, I don't care if you promised him! Why didn't you call me?"

"Listen, don't take all of your bullshit out on me," Mina scolded, wagging an accusatory finger at him. "I didn't ask for him to show up. Shit, if I had a choice in the matter, I would have sent his ass to you! He was moping and sad all night long. He was not our Kirishima. I wanted to be there for him, but I couldn't! Whatever the hell was going on with him, he didn't want me to know. I have no idea if he was with the Red Fury at that time; I don't know anything! And it's not like I didn't try, but not all of us are aggressive and rude like you are! I wasn't going to assault him with questions, just like I didn't want to bother you. And I think that's very mature of me."

"I don't give a shit about you being mature," Bakugou hissed. The tips of his fingers popped involuntarily, scorching the table, but he barely even noticed and really didn't care. There were a few people in the bar looking at them now, including the guy who had supposedly been checking him out earlier. "What I care about is getting to the bottom of this so that I can either accept the shit that's happened and cut any ties I have with him, or I can drag his ass back home and make him see some damn sense. And I can't do that if people are kicking me off the damn case and keeping secrets from me!"

Mina's expression softened, her head tilting to the side in consideration. The waiter brought her drink, setting it down nervously on the table before scurrying away, but she didn't seem interested in the drink. She actually looked concerned for him, and he hated it. "Aw, babe. I didn't know they kicked you off the case…" She reached out to take his hand, but he quickly jerked it away, scowling at her, hating her, not understanding why she got to see Kirishima and he didn’t.

It wasn’t fair. What had he done to deserve this? Of course he had been a shithead when he was a teenager, but he’d grown, right? He’d gotten better. This couldn’t be karma catching up to him. This couldn’t be his punishment for all of his past sins.

“Don’t touch me,” he growled, getting up from the booth. “I can’t fucking believe you didn’t say anything to me.”

“I was trying to be a good friend!” Her voice was elevated, capturing more attention from the bar patrons. Bakugou caught a few whispers from behind him, something about “Pinky and Dynamight.” This would probably be all over the gossip columns tomorrow, but he didn’t care. That was his PR manager’s problem, not his.

“You weren’t really being a good friend to me, were you?”

Mina’s eyes narrowed, her lip curling into a snarl. He had never seen her look this angry. It almost made him respect her more, if he wasn’t so fucking angry with her too. “If I had to choose between you and Kirishima, it’s going to be Kirishima every. Single. Time. You might be our fearless leader, but Kirishima was always the glue that held our group together. It fell apart after he left. You weren’t strong enough to keep it together.”

Bakugou’s fists clenched, his vision blurred. The walls felt closer now, pressing him into a tiny box that he could barely breathe in. It was like he was being buried alive, and he was too weak, too tired to claw himself out. He felt his stomach churn painfully, then the steady thrum of his pulse picking up until it was racing damn near to Iida’s top speed.

You weren’t strong enough to keep it together.

Damn it, didn’t he already know that he wasn’t strong enough? That he wasn’t the best like he had always wanted to be? That no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, things just weren’t going to work out in his favor? He was always going to be second-rate, an afterthought, a guy that everyone barely tolerated. But to hear it come from Mina like this, that Kirishima was the only thing tying him to the rest of the group…

God, he really was alone.

“Bakugou, I didn’t mean that,” Mina said, getting up from the booth and approaching him slowly, cautiously, like she was afraid he might attack. She frowned, the tears pooling in her eyes again. “You’re one of my closest friends. I didn’t –”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. That was a really bitchy thing to say, and –”

“As if I haven’t said bitchy things to you before. I said it’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine, not at all. He felt like he was spiraling, like everything in his life was being ripped away from him with each passing hour. Pretty soon, he wouldn’t have anything at all. No boyfriend, no friends, no work.

If the universe was trying to get back at him, this was a pretty shitty way of doing it.

“Listen, can we just talk about this for a minute –”

“I have things to do. I’ll see you later. Or not. Whatever.”

“Bakugou –”

He had to get out of the bar. It felt hot in there all of a sudden, and he was sweating. Not the kind of sweat that came from using his Quirk, but the unpleasant kind, the kind that made him feel gross and dirty. He turned his back on her as she tried to say something else to him, but he didn’t care, he was only focused on getting out the door and into some fresh air.

As soon as the fresh air hit his face, however, he felt the bile rise into his throat, and then he was doubled over on the sidewalk, ejecting what little was in his stomach onto the ground. His head pounded and throbbed, making the corners of his vision go black. The streetlights overhead made his eyes ache. He wiped at his mouth, stumbling to his feet again, and continued down the sidewalk in the direction of his apartment.

Mina had seen Kirishima a few months ago. He had spent the night with her. And she had kept it a secret from him. It hurt like hell, like rubbing salt into a fresh wound. God, he wanted to blow something up so bad.

Instead, he went home and tossed back three sleeping pills. He fell asleep fast, but his sleep was completely restless.

You weren’t strong enough to keep it together.

No. No, he wasn’t. He was barely keeping it together now.

Chapter Text

"I'm going outside," Kirishima said, his voice hollow and sort of distant as he slid open the door to their balcony. He had a glass of wine in his hand -- the third one before they'd even eaten dinner -- and they were both high as fuck. Bakugou lay on the couch, completely zoned out as the door clicked shut. The oven was on, but he couldn't remember what he had started cooking.

"Hey, are you okay?" he called out, too late, because Kirishima was already outside, and he was alone in the apartment with Mango curled at his feet. He glanced up at Kirishima, watching with half-closed eyes as he paced back and forth across the balcony before finally settling on a spot and leaning forward to stare down at the city. The sun was setting, and bright shades of red, gold, and purple shone down on Kirishima and bled down his body, making him look like a damn painting. Bakugou smiled lazily to himself and closed his eyes. Weed always made him tired and a little forgetful, but nevertheless, he found himself smoking with his friends at least once a week, maybe more if they'd had a rough one. A nap before dinner couldn't hurt…

Mango’s startled meow woke him up. He wasn't sure how much time had passed. It felt like it had been hours, but surely it had only been a few minutes. The world was moving sort of slowly around him. He watched Mango jump down from the couch and pad across the room, stopping at the balcony door to meow even louder. It took a moment for his brain to catch up with what was happening and his eyes to refocus, but as he looked past the cat and onto the balcony, his heart stopped beating for a solid five seconds.

Kirishima was climbing on top of the railing. He was slow, clumsy, slipping off of it and sloshing wine everywhere, eventually dropping the glass and letting it shatter on the ground. The sharp sound of it drilled into Bakugou’s head, finally waking up his tired, sluggish mind as he clambered up from the couch, panicked and moving far, far too slowly. Mango pawed at the door, and Bakugou stumbled. The air smelled like smoke, but he was too focused on Kirishima to care.

“Hey!” he yelled, pushing the cat aside and slamming the door open. Kirishima didn’t even turn around to look at him. He had one foot on the top of the railing, his whole body leaning forward precariously. He was shaky, his arms trembling with the weight of trying to hold himself up. The sun was setting quickly, dousing Kirishima in dark colors and shadows. He smiled as he stared across the city, dangling halfway off the balcony. Bakugou was silent, watching him for a moment, and then he began to climb fully on top of the railing.

He was running before his mind could catch up, but he still felt like he was moving too slowly. Kirishima leaned forward, and Bakugou grabbed his arm, jerking him back hard enough for him to fall backward onto the concrete and smash into the potted plant beside them. Kirishima groaned, his eyes hazy. His hand was bleeding from the broken glass he had landed on.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Bakugou yelled, his voice sounding too loud even to him. Panic swelled in his chest as he crouched down next to his boyfriend, hands tightening around his arms and shaking him once, twice, until finally Kirishima’s faroff gaze landed on his face, and he smiled.

“Just wanted to get a better view,” he replied. His voice didn’t sound right. There was something terrifying about it, the way it sounded so dreamy, so casual. Like he wasn’t just about to fucking throw himself over the edge of the building. “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to fly.” He reached up with his bloody hand, caressing Bakugou’s cheek, and his smile grew wider, but there was far more sadness there now. “What’s it feel like to fly, Bakugou?”

“It’s –” He paused, gently pulling Kirishima’s hand away from his face. There were a few bits of glass sticking up from the wound. He stared at the crimson dripping over Kirishima’s fingers as he tried to force himself to breathe. The sharp panic invading his mind now made the world shift and transform. All he could see was darkness. Darkness and fear. Shadows crept around them, sucking them into a deep, dark abyss. Every sound in the city below was so painfully loud, his own heartbeat sounded like a drumline. “What’s going on? We need to get you inside and get this cleaned up so it doesn’t get infected.”

“I’m okay, Katsuki,” Kirishima said, his fingers closing over Bakugou’s and squeezing tightly. “Really, I am. Don’t worry about me.” His eyes widened, and for a second he looked more alive, more awake than he had looked in a while. “I don’t think I’ve kissed you today.”

“You kissed me this morning before you left for work and when I got home.”

“Hmm. That’s not enough. Can I kiss you, Bakugou?” He sat up, moving close to Bakugou and kissing him briefly before Bakugou turned his head away. There was blood drying on his face and his hand. Kirishima was still bleeding. His heart wouldn’t slow down. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong with me?” His mouth tasted like blood too, and he realized that he had bitten his tongue at some point. “What’s wrong withyou? You were just trying to fucking kill yourself, and –”

“I wasn’t.” Kirishima took both of Bakugou’s hands and held them close to his chest. Bakugou could feel the steady thwum thwum thwum of his heart underneath his fingers, racing far too quickly for his liking. “Bakugou, I wasn’t. I swear. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“You didn’t –” He curled his hand into a fist. He was shaking, and Kirishima looked so calm, so at peace. “Please, can we just go inside and get you cleaned up? There’s wine and blood everywhere, and –” A thought occurred to him then, and his breathing slowed. He stared into Kirishima’s face, trying to read his expression but coming up short. “What was your meeting about with the Commission today?”

“Hmm? Oh!” Kirishima laughed, a high-pitched, unnatural sound that made Bakugou’s skin crawl. “I forgot about that! Nothing really. Just my duties as a pro hero.”

“Which are?”

“Saving people, hunting down villains. Creating a bright future for a new generation of heroes.”

He said it like he was making a grocery list out loud. There was no passion in his voice, no joy in his eyes. He smiled, but there was no feeling behind it.

The smell of smoke invaded Bakugou’s senses, and he whipped around to see that there was a dark gray cloud drifting through their apartment. Fuck. He’d burned their dinner.

“Swear to me that everything is okay,” he said.

Kirishima nodded, kissing Bakugou’s nose. “Everything is perfect.”

“Fine. Then let’s get you cleaned up and make sure we don’t burn the apartment down.”

A week’s worth of research, and Bakugou was still drawing a blank on when and how Kirishima had gotten involved with the Red Fury. Their former leader, a man who had moved from the U.S. named Marcus Friese, had gotten arrested about a year ago and died in jail. A knife fight that he lost with another inmate. The guy had a pretty rough track record: he’d been convicted of several counts of arson, multiple incidents of assault and battery, kidnapping, extortion, homicide, and robbery, as well as being connected to a number of human trafficking rings and drug cartels. According to one article he’d found, Friese’s parents were found dead shortly before he left the U.S. As the crime scene appeared, police ruled it as a murder-suicide, where Friese’s dad had murdered his mom and then killed himself, although some law enforcement suspected Friese to be part of it, but could never bring him in for questioning. He had moved to Japan and adopted the name Nightmare, which was just not subtle at all. Unlike whatever Kirishima was doing, Friese was loud and proud about his crimes.

He also had a Quirk, a type of fear manipulation that caused people to see things that weren’t really there, to induce fear in the victim and render them completely useless, in some cases making them go completely insane. Several of his henchmen, as Bakugou had found out, had ended up in asylums after crossing him.

So how was it that Kirishima had managed to fill this guy’s shoes? Had he been working for him before he was arrested? Had he taken over immediately after the arrest? It seemed as if things had slowed down since Friese’s arrest, but there were still questionable instances that Bakugou wasn’t sure Kirishima had been involved in. There just wasn’t any link. No matter how deep he dived into articles and message boards – even traveling to the Dark Web for a bit – he couldn’t find a single damn thing. Of course Taiyo was missing, but there was no way of definitively proving that that was Kirishima’s doing. Even searching through the missing persons ads didn’t lead to an actual connection.

Although…one of the missing persons from the past few months looked a lot like Wolf Man, though he wasn’t as shaggy and mean-looking. He actually looked kind of happy. But then again, it was a younger picture, before something had tipped him over the edge and made him delve into a life of crime. If it was the same person, he would be about nineteen now.

At their meeting the week before, Deku had mentioned an attack at the park that was connected to the Red Fury. The two villains that had been arrested were men in their late thirties, one of which owed a sizable amount of money to one of the men that they had killed. There were four casualties total. The playground was still under repair.

Had Kirishima orchestrated that? Or had that been beyond his control? What exactly was he doing?

It was all a guessing game, one that Bakugou didn’t particularly enjoy playing. He sighed, closing his laptop and stretching his arms above his head as he yawned. Mango was asleep on the table, soaking in the warmth from the computer. Bakugou took a sip of his coffee and stared down at his plate of fried egg and ogura toast. He had barely touched it.

He had a shift that started in two hours. In the meantime, one of his assistants had scheduled him for a video interview with Hero Lines, which was supposed to be in about fifteen minutes. He had nothing to talk about with them, but he was sure they would find some sort of idiotic questions to ask. They just loved talking about pro heroes’ personal lives and not their accomplishments as a hero. They would probably ask his opinion on the Commission’s big push for a stronger, brighter generation of heroes being forged, to which he would reply that the world would always need heroes, and if the best of the best shared their Quirks with one another, it would only make the next generation better. His PR manager had gone over that with him dozens of times, making sure he didn’t say anything negative about the Commission as he had wished he could do for so long. However, he had a feeling that if he pushed them just a little bit more than he already had, their empty threats of revoking his hero license would become a reality, and how the hell was he supposed to become the next All Might after that? He would never beat Deku if he didn’t learn to behave himself.

That’s what his PR manager had told him. After the fight with Kirishima last week, he hadn’t found the strength to care.

He checked his phone, finding texts from Ashido and Kaminari, as well as Shouji, who had been kind enough to keep him filled in on as many details as he was allowed to on the Red Fury case. So far, they had connected a few of the members to missing persons that had been missing for a few months, most of them orphans or teens that had been kicked out of their homes for various reasons. Some of them were adults that had been shunned and lost their jobs or their apartments. All of them had track records of crimes like breaking and entering and carjacking. None of them had been found since last week.

Ashido and Kaminari were trying to meet up at the mall tonight after his shift ended. He’d barely talked to them since the incident, only stilted conversations that felt forced and unnatural, like a couple of strangers discussing the weather. He had no idea how to be there for them when he knew they were hurting, and he didn’t know how to let them be there for him. He told them he would think about it.

There was also a text from his mom, inviting him over for dinner that weekend. It had been ages since he’d gone to his parents’ house for dinner. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d bothered to visit. The old hag had been to his apartment a few times in the past couple of months, but all she’d done was nag him for stupid shit like the way he folded his towels and the papers on the counter he hadn’t bothered to put up.

He ignored that one, unsure if he was willing to see them right now. Maybe when things calmed down. Mitsuki would have no inhibitions when it came to asking questions about the Red Fury case. She never knew when to stop. And Masaru would just sit there looking nervous while they argued. Things in the Bakugou household usually ended explosively, but this? This would be a disaster.

He got up from the table, not bothering with the dirty dishes as he made his way to the bedroom to get ready for the interview. On the nightstand next to the bed, the bouquet of flowers Kirishima had sent him last week lay withering and gasping for air. He hadn’t bothered to put them in water, but he also didn’t have the heart to throw them out. It was a reminder, of sorts, so that every time he looked at them he could remember that mix of emotions that Kirishima left him with after they fought. He could focus on that rage, use it to give him strength to walk away. It shouldn’t be this hard, forgetting Kirishima after all that he had put them through. He should just be able to apprehend him and be done with it, close that chapter and move on.

But he couldn’t help feeling like things weren’t over, and that was absolutely infuriating. Why was he so attached to someone that clearly didn’t give a shit about him anymore? He picked up the note that had come with the flowers, studying the messy scribble carefully and running his fingers over the smooth edges of the card. It was good seeing you tonight. I've missed you, Katsuki. Hope to see you again really soon.

Bullshit. Every single bit of it was bullshit. He was just manipulating him, trying to get under his skin, into his mind. He wanted to make him slip up. He wanted him to fail. That’s all this was. If he actually cared, he would have let him know a long time ago that he was okay.

His phone rang as he was getting dressed, and he grumbled under his breath and grabbed it without looking at the caller ID, halfway expecting it to be Todoroki or Deku calling to annoy the hell out of him. “Listen, if you’re not calling with any useful information, then I don’t really think this conversation is –”

“Bakugou?”

“Oh. Hey. Sorry, I didn’t look at who was calling.”

Momo chuckled a little nervously on the other line. He had never really talked to her while they were in school, but they’d worked a few cases together since graduation, and he could at least admit she wasn’t a total waste of his time. “Hey, sweetie. Sorry to bother you. Um…do you think you could help us out? Me and Kyouka are at Devaron Bank close to your agency, and we’ve got a hostage situation on our hands.”

He paused briefly, a rush of adrenaline flooding his veins. Finally – finally – there was something for him to do to get him out of this terrible funk he had been in. He was actually excited. He loved hostage situations. That might have sounded weird, but he always loved the thrill of breaking in, sneaking around, trying to catch the captors offguard and then kicking their asses all over the building while someone else rescued the hostages. There was always, always a fight, and he was more than ready and willing to beat the shit out of someone.

“What’s going on?” he asked, hurrying to pull his hero costume on and nearly tripping over his pants leg. Maybe it was kind of fucked up, but he liked hearing the details too. It gave him a certain sort of thrill, fueled the flame inside of him and made him fight better and harder. His heart was pounding wildly, his whole body waking up. This was the most alive he had felt since…since –

Since Kirishima.

“Not really sure,” Momo replied. “We’re still assessing the situation. The bank was closed today, but a few higher-ups came in for a meeting. We have four employees that we know of that are clocked in. The security system’s been hacked, we can’t look at any of the cameras. Kyouka’s listening through the walls, but she can’t really get a good idea of how many there are. She’s guessing about five at this point, but there could be more. They’ve been moving all over the building. We have no idea what they’re after.”

“Any idea who it could be?”

She hesitated. He could hear her breath over the phone, like a weary sigh. “We have a few guesses.”

“Red Fury?”

“No, actually. The Commission wouldn’t let me call you if we suspected them. They’ve been in hiding all week, although there was a convenience store that was burned down that they think could have been them.” She let out a heavy breath. “Not important right now. We’ve got the building surrounded. Kendou, Awase, and Uraraka are on their way to help too.”

His skin prickled. “They wouldn’t let you call me? Who’s there?”

“The crisis guy. What’s his name? Nakatomi Keisuke? He’s in charge of negotiations. He’s been talking to some guy inside that introduced himself as Fang. They’re not planning on releasing hostages anytime soon. Seems like it’s going to end up being an extraction mission.”

“Thank God,” Bakugou said, tugging on his boots. Mango rubbed up against his leg, and he paused just long enough to pet her between her ears before rushing to the closet to grab his support gear.

“What?”

“Look, if I get a chance to kick some villain ass, I’m taking it. See you in a few minutes.”

He hung up the phone, not taking any time to put his support gear on as he hurried to the door. He would finish getting ready on the way over.

When he arrived, a crowd had formed around the building, all of them pushing and shoving one another as they waved their phones around trying to take pictures and video. The roar of voices was something that he was used to. For some reason, whenever there was a disaster, civilians loved to watch and share it with the rest of the world. He heard one of the onlookers call out his name, but he didn’t bother to look their way as he hurried to where Momo and Jirou stood whispering to one another. Kendou had managed to make it to the scene, but there was no one else so far. She stood separated from everyone else, staring up at the building like if she looked hard enough, she could see right through the walls to what was happening.

“Bakugou,” Jirou said, looking up with wide, startled eyes. He wondered if Momo had even told her he was coming. “We called your agency, but your assistant said you had an interview –”

“Fuck the interview. You need me here. I’m probably the only one that can get this shit under control anyway.”

Jirou rolled her eyes. “Glad to know you haven’t lost your charm.”

“Why haven’t you gone into the building? We’re wasting time standing out here talking.”

“We’re being cautious,” Momo replied sternly. “In case there are explosives. Awase and I will be able to handle it once he gets here –”

“There’s no reason to stand around waiting for more information. We get in, we get out, we’ll all be home in time for lunch.” They could tell that he was annoyed. Jirou looked pretty annoyed herself, her arms crossed over her chest and her earphone jacks whipping around dangerously like snakes.

“I’m picking up a lot of heartbeats in there,” she said. “I was guessing five at first, but I think there might be more. They’ve got the bank president tied up on the top floor, we know for sure, and I’ve picked up several heartbeats in the basement. Fang told Keisuke we needed to stand down, or the whole building was going up in flames, so we need to be careful how we approach this –”

“Fuck that! I’m going in.” He already knew who he was facing, though he couldn’t understand the motive behind the attack. He didn’t need someone else instructing him how to handle Kirishima and his idiot pack; he was perfectly capable of handling it himself. He ignited his hands, using the force of the explosion to propel him forward to the building as the crowd shouted and pointed and Momo called after him, trying to get him to turn back. He ignored her, but she wasn’t going down without a fight. She’d gotten a whole lot bolder since graduation.

“Katsuki Bakugou!” she screamed, her heels clacking on the pavement behind him, and suddenly Jirou was there too, and Kendou, and then all of the gravity around him was being sucked away, and he flipped upside down, unable to control himself as he floated aimlessly through the air. He twisted his body, flailing uselessly against the Quirk that he had so hated and respected back in their school days, turning his head so that he could come face-to-face with Deku’s girlfriend and the bane of his existence at the moment, Uraraka Ochako. Her cheeks were puffed out, her hands steepled in front of her face, and she glared at him, her dark eyes flashing with a sort of dominance that made his skin crawl.

He would never say it out loud, but Pink Cheeks could be fucking terrifying when she wanted to be.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. “Who told you that you could make all the decisions around here?”

“Me,” he replied gruffly. “I don’t need someone’s permission. In case you forgot, heroes are supposed to act, which is exactly what I’m doing.”

Now Awase was there, and the guy from the Commission. They were staring at him like he was some sort of carnival sideshow that was there to entertain them instead of a very serious pro hero with lots of successful arrests on his record. His blood was boiling, and he gritted his teeth as he lunged uselessly through the air toward Uraraka, who floated perfectly out of his reach.

Damn it. He hated her. He hated this fucking Quirk. It was making him lightheaded hanging upside down like this. He cursed under his breath and floundered, swinging his arms up until he was able to pull himself into an upright position. He glared at her. “Let me go right. Fucking. Now.”

“Do you promise to behave yourself until we come up with a plan?” She raised an eyebrow at him and released herself so that she settled back down on the ground next to Jirou.

“Yes, fuck. Stop being so obnoxious.”

“Oh, I’m being obnoxious? Maybe you should –”

“He’s right,” Kendou said. Her voice startled Uraraka so much that she released her hold on Bakugou, and he toppled to the ground. None of them bothered to help him up, which was just fucking fine. “We shouldn’t be standing around waiting for them to contact us. There are innocent people in there that need our help. The quicker we get in there, the better. We’re all trained in crisis aversion and negotiations, right?”

There were murmurs of agreement before they all turned their attention to Bakugou. “Oh, fuck off,” he said. “I went to the same fucking school as you idiots. I know the same shit you do.”

“Just because you know it doesn’t mean you’re good at it,” Awase murmured under his breath with a roll of his eyes.
“Who the fuck invited this guy? Who even are you?”

“Bakugou,” Momo hissed. “We’re a team, got it? You can’t just run off and do your own thing.”

He grumbled, grinding his teeth together until they started to ache. Finally, he blew out an exasperated breath and rubbed at his forehead. This is exactly why he had never hired a sidekick, because he couldn’t imagine anyone being able to keep up with him or get on his level. They were all fine in their own way, but he preferred to work alone. He did the most damage when there was no one there to hold him back. And that’s all these people were doing – holding him back.

“Fine,” he growled. “We break off into two teams. I want those two.” He pointed to Uraraka and Kendou, and Kendou’s mouth curled up into a tiny smile.

“I’m honored,” Uraraka said, sarcasm dripping from her lips. She’d gotten a whole lot tougher in the past year or so. Whatever Bakugou dished out, she threw it right back. He always kind of had a feeling she was better than she was letting on. “So we’ll head toward the basement –”

“No. Top floor.” Bakugou fixed her with a deathly serious stare. He wasn’t going to let on that he knew what they were dealing with, who he knew was waiting at the top of the building for them. Because he didn’t plan on making this a team effort. This was his mission, his vengeance. They could save all the innocents; they were perfectly capable of that. But that wasn’t his purpose here.

He was here to put things to rest, to find some understanding. Kirishima was inside that building, and he was going to confront him this time, take care of things the way that he was too afraid to do a week ago. This was the end. It had to be.

“There are more people in the basement,” Jirou said. “You’ll need more physical attack down there –”

“The more powerful people will be at the top. Keisuke, keep Fang on the line. Try to figure out what they want. Momo, Jirou, Class B guy, detain as many villains as you can. Focus on getting the hostages out safely.”

“My name is –”

“I do not care.” He turned his attention to Uraraka and Kendou. “I need the two of you to watch my back. I have a feeling they’ve got some pretty serious strength waiting for us in there, and I know that the two of you are capable of holding them off.”

Uraraka placed a hand on her heart. “What happened to our Bakugou? You’re being too kind today.”

“Yeah, whatever. Let’s just get this done, alright? I have shit to do.”

“Besides your job?” Jirou asked, gazing at him through narrowed eyes.

He didn’t answer her. The shit in question that he had to do was taking care of Kirishima, but he wasn’t planning on involving any of them in that. No matter what the Commission said, this was his fight. No one else’s. He wouldn’t share the satisfaction of taking him down. In fact, as soon as they entered that building, they would basically be strangers to him. He was humoring them, making them feel like they were important to this, flattering them so that they would trust him. But he was on his own.

“How do you plan on getting in?” Keisuke asked him. “There should be a fire escape –”

Bakugou blasted through one of the windows on the bottom floor. Glass shattered. Alarms blared. A horrible, wicked red light filled the dark space ahead of them. “Insurance should cover that, right?” he said, then crawled his way inside, not bothering to wait for the rest of his team to follow.

“Something’s wrong with you.” Uraraka’s voice was low, echoing hauntingly in the empty lobby. “That was really stupid, setting off the alarms like that. Now they know we’re in here.”

“Good,” Bakugou replied. “I hope they know. I hope they’re saying their prayers and asking forgiveness for all the shit they’ve done, because I’m about to put them in the ground.”

“You’re fucking insane,” Awase said from somewhere behind him.

“And don’t you fucking forget it.” He turned around to face them, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied the team he was forced to work with. Definitely not the worst, but they could do better. The Class B extras were definitely not a necessity. They all looked so wide-eyed, so innocent, even after all of the death and destruction that they had witnessed in their short lives. They hadn’t had their entire world thrown off its axis and spinning aimlessly into the darkness of space. They hadn’t felt the complete and utter betrayal of someone they cared about more than anything in the world leaving them behind and becoming everything they claimed to hate.

They hadn’t watched someone crumble before their eyes for months while they could only watch helplessly as they withered away. And then it was too late.

The lobby was bathed in that dark red light, casting shadows on the floor that made it look like there were puddles of blood. It fell across Uraraka’s face, making her scowl look all the more menacing. If she wasn’t such a damn saint, she probably could have been a terrifying villain.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Do you know something we don’t know? Because if you do, you need to share. Unless you want us all to be in danger.”

"Look, what I know is that--"

Something broke somewhere in the wide, dark room. His eyes were drawn to the left, where a long counter with several teller stations stood silent and abandoned. There was no sign of movement anywhere.

"There's someone in here," Awase whispered. He whipped out some pieces of metal from his pocket, and in seconds, he had forged a long staff for him to use.

Oh, yeah. The welding guy. He'd forgotten what Awase even did. Maybe he could be useful after all.

"Shh," Jirou said, holding a finger to her lips as she crouched down and plugged in to the floor. She closed her eyes in concentration, murmuring to herself as the alarms continued to screech around them. It was so fucking loud that it was starting to give Bakugou a headache. How she could hear heartbeats and people's breath with all that noise was a complete mystery to him, but as he watched her in action, he realized that she was actually pretty good.

Maybe he had just never given his classmates the credit they deserved. He would apologize for it. One day.

“Six of them coming from over there,” Jirou said, pointing to a dark corner of the room that Bakugou hadn’t even bothered to look at, and she was on her feet in an instant, her earphones still plugged in as she released a shockwave created by the beating of her heart. It was loud, like Bakugou had set off one of his explosions, and his legs trembled from underneath him, almost giving out and sending to him knees. However, the brunt of the impact was sent in front of them, to that dark corner, and sure enough, six villains emerged from the shadows, each of them toppling like bowling pins and flying through the air.

Damn. Okay. He could give credit where credit was due.

He watched as Momo drew a long sword from her chest and pointed it at the villains, who were quick to recover and were making their way across the lobby to where the group of them stood. Uraraka had her fingers touching, preparing for an attack. Bakugou stayed back, which was very unusual of him, but no one seemed to notice that he wasn’t rushing headfirst into a fight.

Which would make it that much easier for him to slip away. They would be fine. He had a bigger fight waiting for him upstairs anyway.

He watched the villains approaching with mild interest, one of them dropping to the ground and immediately blending into their surroundings, making it damn near impossible to see them. And then there was another – the girl with the purple skin and the snakes on her head – that gave him pause for just a moment. She didn’t see him, but it was all the confirmation that he needed that he was absolutely right about who was behind this.

Everyone was pretty much occupied for the time being. He used the distraction to slip out of the room unnoticed.

He took the stairs, not having the patience to wait for the elevator to open, climbing them three at a time and making enough noise that it almost rivaled the blaring of the alarms. He hoped they could hear him coming, hoped that they were preparing themselves, because he was about to unleash all hell on them. He wouldn’t be weak this time. If he was going to be a hero – if he was going to be anything like All Might – he would have to make the tough decisions, and he was prepared now. He might not have been ready to confront his demons a week ago, but he had had time to think, to stew in that anger, and he was not going to let the opportunity slip past him again.

There were only five floors, and Bakugou cleared them with ease, barely stopping on the landing at the top to catch his breath, not even bothering to take in his surroundings as sweat dripped into his palms and he exploded the first door on his left. Wood splintered and fell at his feet. The doorknob dangled precariously from what remained.

“Where the fuck are you?” he yelled, his voice ringing in the narrow hallway as he exploded the next door and looked inside. It was empty except for a desk, which he had managed to scorch, and a couple of leather chairs. “You said you wanted to see me, well here I am! So come out and fight me, you fucking coward.”

He didn’t expect a response, and he didn’t receive one. He exploded the next door, finding nothing but an empty conference room, then paused in the middle of the hallway and listened. It was quiet except for the alarms and the aftershock of the explosions ringing in his ears. He could feel his heart racing, almost like it was trying to claw its way up into his throat, and he took a tentative step forward into the shadows.

Then he heard something, the tiniest little squeak, like a mouse, and a voice: “Help me. Please. Help.”

It was coming from the end of the hallway. Sucking in a shaky breath to steel himself for what was waiting behind that door for him, he hurried forward, focusing on the sound of his footsteps, the feel of his breath flooding his lungs. The door in front of him had a shiny golden nameplate on it: Saito Masuyo, President. The doorknob was stained red with blood.

“Damn it,” Bakugou said under his breath, his trembling fingers closing on the doorknob. He hesitated, resting his head against the wood and trying to find the strength to enter. He wasn’t sure what he would find. Terror flooded through his body, making him feel cold, and he let out the breath he’d been holding.

Someone could be dead. And what then? What the fuck was he supposed to do with himself if he found Kirishima standing over a dead body? Something inside of him whispered that Kirishima would never hurt anyone, but after all the shit he’d been reading in the news, he wasn’t sure that that was true.

He squeezed his eyes shut, counting down from ten. He breathed in through his nose, then out through his mouth, the way he had trained himself to do when he was on the verge of a panic attack. Seconds passed, maybe minutes. It was now or never. He had to overcome whatever this fear was, destroy this tether that was still tying him to Kirishima.

That’s what a hero would do, right?

He gritted his teeth, steeling his nerves, then slammed the door open with a bang as he barged into the room.

There was no attack. The room was empty except for an elderly man tied to a big, comfy leather chair behind a gleaming wooden desk. His wide, baleful eyes were filled with tears. A bruise was forming on his right cheek. The stench of blood hung heavy in the air.

“Where is he?” Bakugou asked.

The man sniffled. Tears and snot mingled together on his face, dripping over his thin lips. "My friend, please. He's there." He nodded toward the corner of the room, and Bakugou turned slowly, braced and ready for attack, only to find a body slumped against the wall, the head lolling against the shoulder and blood dripping down the face. There were splatters of blood on the wall, on the carpet, pooling around him. A wound in his gut left his nice clothes stained scarlet.

Amidst the sobbing from behind him, Bakugou kneeled and felt the body's pulse, already knowing that he would find none. Still, it made his stomach twist unpleasantly, and the white hot heat of rage filled his chest. For a moment, his vision doubled and swam before him, and then he was back on his feet, approaching the man tied to the chair.

"You need to get out of here," he said as he worked on untying the knots of his bindings. "Don't go through the lobby. Take a back exit."

"No! Please! He's going to kill me!"

"He's not interested in you anymore. He wants me."

The ropes dropped from around the man's wrists, but Saito made no move to leave. He sat there, wailing like a child that didn't want to go to bed. His face was red, and fat tears continued to roll over his round cheeks. Bakugou tried his best to stay calm, to remember all of his training and how he was supposed to talk to crisis victims, but it was hard when they wouldn't fucking listen to him.

"He wants my money! He came here to rob us, and when we put up a fight, he killed my friend! Please!" He lunged forward, grabbing at Bakugou’s shirt and shaking him. "Please help me!"

"Stay here," Bakugou instructed, carefully removing the man's tight fists from his clothes. "Don't move, don't make a sound. Lock the door --"

"It won't stop him!"

"It'll slow him down. Someone will be here to escort you out of the building soon. I have to take care of this guy, so please just--"

"Don't leave me! Please! Oh god, he's going to kill me!"

"Tell me where he went. I'm going to fight him. You're safe."

Saito's dark eyes focused on Bakugou’s face for a moment, his face scrunched up with tears that had not been shed yet. He was trembling, unable to contain the weak sobs coming out of him, but he was stable. He was going to be fine.

With a shaky hand, he pointed toward a door on the right side of the room. "Conference room C. He escaped through there."

"Thank you." He fixed the man with a very serious stare, the same look that he had seen All Might give to trauma survivors when he rescued them, a look he had worked for years to perfect. "I'm going to stop him. I swear it."

Saito was hesitant, but he nodded as he crawled underneath his desk to hide. Bakugou got up, approaching the door much quicker now, the image of the dead man burning in his mind and fueling the flames that had been devouring him for ages. That was all he needed to make his feet move, to make himself act. Knowing for a fact that Kirishima had blood on his hands was enough to make him come to his senses. Nothing was going to stop him from doing the right thing today.

He kicked open the door so hard that it swung from its hinges as he stomped into the room, palms crackling and ready to attack. "Alright, fucker. Stop being a little bitch and get out here and fight me!"

He looked around the room, but he didn't see anyone in there. A long, polished wooden table occupied the center of the room, along with a dozen chairs and a closed laptop, as well as a projection screen on the wall. A few charts were pinned to the wall projecting numbers Bakugou didn’t understand. There was nowhere to hide.

"Where the fuck are you?" he screamed, his voice bouncing angrily in the empty room. His eyes fell on the window at the end of the room, cracked open only slightly, but it was enough to catch his attention.

No fucking way Kirishima jumped out the window. They were five stories up. He was a heavy guy. But where the hell else would he be? The room was empty. There were no other signs of life anywhere.

He took a hesitant step toward the window, rounding the table until he had crossed the clean, lifeless room and stood before the open glass. He pushed it open a little, letting it swing on its hinges as he peered over the edge to the sidewalk below. There were a few people that had gathered down there, mostly just civilians trying to get a better look at what was going on while a couple of police officers worked on holding them back. There was no sign of Kirishima, no sign there had been any sort of trouble.

"Damn it," Bakugou murmured, slamming his hand into the glass. It shattered and rained down onto the sidewalk. Civilians looked up in wonder, waving at him, but he ignored their excitement. "Damn it damn it damn it damn it DAMN IT!" He kicked the wall, spinning around in a burst of rage, only to slam right into someone as hands closed around his arms and he was pressed against the wall.

"Hey, angel," Kirishima whispered in his ear, pressing his body hard against Bakugou's so that he was flush against the wall, unable to move. He nuzzled his nose into Bakugou's neck, smiling cruelly. "Didn't think I'd see you again so soon."

Bakugou should not have had a reaction to that, but he couldn't help the weakness in his legs, the trembling that the pet name sent rushing through his body. He gasped out a shaky breath, heart beating wildly as the dull sound of alarms went off in his brain. A voice inside his head was screaming at him to do something, to push him away, but Kirishima’s grip on him was strong, and even as he wriggled, he couldn't make much progress. He could feel Kirishima's breath on his face, tantalizingly warm, and his lips so close to his skin that he could kiss him if he wanted to.

Which he did not. But still.

"Get off me," he choked out. He managed to jerk his arm out just a little bit, sending an explosion toward Kirishima's leg, which startled him enough to make him let go of that one arm, and Bakugou used the distraction to swing his fist toward Kirishima's face. His knuckles connected with his nose, and he heard the satisfying crack, saw the spray of blood across his skin as Kirishima let go of him completely, staggering backward.

"What's the matter?" Bakugou said. "I thought you had gotten so much better than me. Prove it. Fight me, you coward!"

Kirishima glared up at him. He was doubled over a little bit, holding his nose as blood gushed over his fingers, and despite the rage clearly evident in his eyes, he smiled at him. It sent a chill racing up Bakugou's spine. "You were always good at name-calling," he said with a frustrated sigh.

Bakugou shrugged. "I call it like I see it. Now get your ass over here so I can beat the shit out of you and put you behind bars where you fucking belong."

Kirishima didn't move for a long moment, and Bakugou stood there watching him bleed. Drops of red fell onto the gray carpet. He thought he would get some sort of satisfaction out of getting the first hit in, of seeing Kirishima suffer, but he didn't feel anything at all, just a sad, hollow numbness that made it feel like ice was flooding his veins. Like he was an abandoned building that Kirishima had vandalized and destroyed.

But Kirishima didn't come after him like he had expected. He stood up, rolling his shoulders as the blood continued to pour down his face, and smiled warmly at him. It was unnerving, how much he looked like his old self at that moment. And then he laughed. Not a mean, malicious laugh like he was mocking, but the warm, bubbly sound that usually came when Bakugou used to unintentionally tell a joke. His eyes settled on Bakugou’s, holding his gaze for a long few seconds. Bakugou held his breath.

"I really have missed you, Bakugou. God, this is fun, right? Just like the old days."

Bakugou ground his teeth together, his lips curling into a snarl. "Don't talk to me about the old days. You don't get to do that anymore. You're not my friend, you're not my boyfriend." He spat the word like it was a bad flavor in his mouth that he wanted to get out. "You're a complete stranger."

"Aww, don't be like that!" Kirishima exclaimed, poking his lower lip out into a perfectly innocent pout. He took a step forward, and Bakugou shot an explosion at his feet, which he sidestepped easily and ignored. "We never technically broke up, did we?"

"I --" He hadn't actually thought about it that way, but he was right. There was no formal breakup, and Bakugou hadn't been seeing anyone since Kirishima had walked out of his life. But still, he couldn't bear to think that they were still in a relationship.

"You voided the privilege of dating me when you walked out of my life and disappeared," he hissed. "No phone calls, no letters, nothing. We're not dating anymore. Don't you dare fucking pretend --"

"I've thought about you every single day." Kirishima tilted his head to the side, a soft smile playing on his lips. The sunlight and shadows fell over him, leaving him halfway in the darkness. His red eyes matched the blood on his face.

The sad, quiet tone of his voice crept under Bakugou’s skin, and he almost let his walls fall down, almost wanted to go to him and touch him, let him know that everything was going to be okay.

But that voice in his head -- the quiet voice of reason-- told him what this was. A lie. A trick. A way to manipulate him into failing.

"When? While you were fucking your new wolf boyfriend? Is that what you're into now? Bestiality?"

Kirishima raised an eyebrow and poked his tongue out just a little, and oh god oh fuck Bakugou had forgotten that he had gotten his tongue pierced close to the end of their relationship. He'd complained about how annoying it was and how much he had regretted it, but Bakugou thought it was quite possibly the only thing in the world that could have made Kirishima even more attractive.

"What's the matter, Katsuki? Jealous?"

It shouldn't have been attractive. He shouldn't have been staring. But for a long moment, every neuron in his body was fried, shut down, completely short circuiting, and he just stood there, stupid and useless and unable to even form words. He stared at the way the tiny rivulets of blood dripped down his chin, the way his tongue dragged over his bottom lip, the bruising and swelling already forming around his nose and eyes.

Fuck, it was hot. He couldn't pretend it wasn't. He had always been at the height of his sexual depravity right after a fight, when he and Kirishima were bruised and banged up and running on nothing but pure adrenaline, but it seemed like he had reached new heights now. He couldn't stop the thought from invading his mind, the memory of that tiny metal ball dragging over his dick while Kirishima sucked him off like it was going out of style. It made warmth pool in his stomach and a deep, burning blush race up his neck and onto his cheeks.

He hated himself, but more than anything, he hated Kirishima for making him feel this way.

"You're not very good at hiding your feelings," Kirishima said. "It's okay, Bakugou. I might be a lot of things, but I'm not a cheater."

"You and I are not together."

He was shaking, he realized, and that familiar pressure was building up in his chest, the way it always did right before the tears came. He couldn't cry. Not this time. He couldn't let Kirishima get under his skin. If he fell apart now, he wasn't sure he would be able to put himself back together.

"Wouldn't that be something?" Kirishima said with a weary sigh, sitting on the edge of the conference table as casually as if they were just old friends catching up. "If the Commission found out you were dating a villain." His lips curled into a smirk, one that was so uncharacteristic of him that it made Bakugou cringe. "They really didn't even want us dating when we were on the same side."

"That's --" He hesitated, unsure of what to say. It was true; his PR manager had done just about everything short of forcing them to break up. He'd suggested fake relationships, even spun rumors himself. Gossip columns were all over a supposed relationship between Kirishima and Ashido, which the Commission had thought would be a good idea. It had never really bothered Bakugou, the way they tried to control them, because he was not really someone that could be controlled. Kirishima, on the other hand…

"We're not dating," he said again, "and I didn't come here to talk. So shut your damn mouth and FIGHT ME!"

Something inside of him snapped. The slow flame that had been building inside of him was now a roaring inferno. He didn't remember exploding the table, but suddenly there were chunks of wood raining down everywhere, and Kirishima was on him, his hardened fist connecting with Bakugou’s jaw with a sickening crack that shot an explosion of pain through his skull. Shit, he had forgotten how hard Kirishima could hit if given even half a chance, and it seemed like he had somehow gotten stronger, just as he'd said.

The pain throbbed through him, pulsing like the beat of his heart, and he pressed a hand to his bruising cheek. His vision swam for only a second, and then he was seeing red. God, there was so much red. He ignited his hands, the popping of the explosions growing so loud that he could barely even hear himself think.

"Is that what you wanted?" Kirishima yelled. "To get your ass handed to you?"

"Fuck you! This isn't over!"

He wasn't exactly sure what happened. Blood dripped down into his eyes, and he was sure his stitches had come loose. He was going in blind, but he didn't stop, barely even cared. All he wanted was to see the room go up in flames, to see Kirishima suffer in silence, alone and afraid just as Bakugou had for two fucking years.

His Quirk was not built for enclosed spaces. He wasn't even sure he was aiming at anything in particular. The sound of the alarms from down below combined with the blasts of his explosions and glass bursting and shattering all over the floor. Somewhere, he thought he heard a scream, and he wasn't sure if it was his own.

Smoke crowded the room, obscuring his vision even more, and still he pressed forward, pain trembling through his bones as they fought hand-to-hand, a flurry of explosions and limbs that he couldn't even keep up with. His hits seemed to do barely any damage, and Kirishima kept up with his usual fighting technique, making sure he got the first hit in and charging headfirst into the fight.

That was the problem they'd always run into. They were both offensive heroes, and when Kirishima forced him into a defensive position -- which is exactly what he was doing now -- it made things a little more difficult.

Not to mention that Kirishima was good, and his Quirk held up against Bakugou possibly better than any other Quirk he'd faced.

Maybe they were always meant to be enemies. Maybe he was always meant to lose.

"Seems you've gotten better too," Kirishima said. They were at a standstill, locked arm to arm. Cuts bloomed open on Bakugou’s face and arms where Kirishima’s sharp, hardened skin had sliced him. He was holding his own fairly well, he thought, but Kirishima was still stronger, and he could feel his foot slipping backward. If he didn't get control of the fight soon, it would be another loss.

He couldn't accept that.

"Of course I have, dumbass," Bakugou spat, his lips curled into a snarl. He glared into Kirishima's red eyes, pushing back against his weight enough so that he could gain his footing again. His arms were quivering against Kirishima’s strength. "I'm trying to be the number one hero, remember? And I'm sure once I kick your ass and get you off the streets, I'll move up in rank no problem."

"You think getting me off the streets is going to help you?" Kirishima smiled a little maliciously. Something dark flashed in his eyes. "What exactly have I done that's so bad?"

"For starters," Bakugou said, releasing his hold on Kirishima and sending an explosion flying at his arm. The skin cracked a little, but it was tough, tougher than he remembered. "You just murdered an innocent man."

"Innocent?" He lunged, his fist slamming into Bakugou’s side. It hurt like hell, but Bakugou attacked again, this time setting off a blast that was strong enough to push Kirishima back toward the wall, where he had opened a gaping hole already. He was stunned for only a second, but otherwise unfazed. "That's the problem with pro heroes. They have this idea that the world exists in black and white, when really there's so much more gray than anything." He rushed forward, so fast Bakugou didn't have time to react, and his shoulder slammed into Bakugou’s chest, knocking the wind out of him. He staggered back, gasping in a breath, which was all the opportunity that Kirishima needed to grab his arm and twist it behind his back until his muscles screamed in agony. "How do you decide who's innocent, Bakugou? And what makes me a villain?"

He slammed Bakugou’s face into the wall, and Bakugou cried out as more pain shot through his head. He could taste blood on his tongue, hot and thick and metallic. He spat, spraying red across the white wall. "Don't try to turn this into some philosophical bullshit. That's really not your style."

"Things change," Kirishima said, slamming his body into Bakugou’s and forcing him closer to the wall.

Bakugou’s breath caught in his throat. His head was spinning. He could feel Kirishima's broad chest pressing into his back, one hand pinning his arm behind him while the other held tightly to his hip, his fingers toying with the bottom of Bakugou’s shirt. His groin was pressed against his ass, and Bakugou could feel the semi-hardness of his thick cock sliding along the crevice of his ass cheeks. It made his brain grow foggy and the heat bubbling in his stomach grow stronger as it traveled south, settling heavily on his dick and awakening an interest that left him feeling disgusted. Involuntarily, he rolled his hips backward against Kirishima, a small, hardly audible moan falling from his lips. He squeezed his eyes shut as Kirishima leaned further into him, his breath skirting over Bakugou’s neck as his lips brushed over his jaw.

"This position feels familiar," he whispered, his voice low and husky in Bakugou's ear. He released his arm, his other hand coming to rest on Bakugou’s hip, trapping him against the wall.

Bakugou let out a shaky breath as Kirishima’s thumb pushed underneath his shirt, tracing over bare skin and leaving fire burning where he touched. He ground his ass against Kirishima again, his lips parting with a quiet exhale and a desperate plea. "Please." His voice sounded pitiful, broken, as tears pooled at the corners of his eyes. His hand fell to rest on top of Kirishima’s, their fingers intertwining as he slowly, carefully guided Kirishima’s hand to his aching cock. Even touching him through his pants was getting him off. He had never needed this, it was only something he enjoyed with Kirishima.

But today, he thought he might die if he didn't get fucked.

"Please what, Katsuki?" Kirishima asked, his voice so soft and tender and so much like his old self that it made Bakugou’s chest hurt. The familiarity of it all was almost enough to send him spiraling.

He didn’t know what he wanted. No, he did, but the thought of wanting Kirishima so badly right now made him sick to his stomach. He had always been his own person, playing by his own rules, but he couldn’t help but wonder if All Might had ever fallen into temptation quite like this, or if Bakugou was just a sick, twisted fuck. His license would be revoked in no time if anyone found out that he was pinned up against a wall begging for a villain’s dick.

But still…the adrenaline pumping through his veins and the heavy smell of smoke and blood lingering in the air was oddly erotic to him. It was proof of a fight, and there was nothing he loved more than a fight.

Except for maybe the asshole pinning him against the wall.

“Use words, baby,” Kirishima whispered, dragging his tongue over the shell of Bakugou’s ear and pressing a brief kiss right behind it. It sent a chill racing down Bakugou’s spine. His legs nearly gave out and sent him toppling to the ground. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. I’d do anything for you.”

Bakugou hissed, sucking in cold air through gritted teeth, his fingers curling against the wall. Kirishima’s hand still rested on his dick, rubbing slow circles over him as his thumb played with the zipper of his pants. His vision was going fuzzy, his brain flooded with the darkness of lust. “You left me,” he choked out. He could barely breathe, but he pushed forward, unable to stop himself. “You left me and didn’t even give me a hint that you were still alive for two fucking years.”

Kirishima hummed against his shoulder, a sad sort of sound, then kissed his neck. His mouth was hot, wet, covered in blood, and Bakugou almost couldn’t resist the urge to strip down right there and fuck him on the remnants of the conference table. He found, however, that he was paralyzed, waiting for some sort of response, though he wasn’t sure what could have soothed his racing thoughts.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Kirishima finally said. “Things changed, Katsuki. I never wanted to fight you –”

“Then why the fuck are you doing this? Was it me?”

Kirishima hesitated, his whole body going stiff against Bakugou’s, and then suddenly Bakugou’s back was against the wall, and he was staring into Kirishima’s eyes again, dark and blood red, the eyes of someone who had been broken beyond repair. His arms pressed in on either side of Bakugou, trapping him against the wall once more as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against Bakugou’s.

“Tell me what you want from me right at this moment,” he whispered.

Bakugou’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted answers. He wanted assurance that he hadn’t ruined the single greatest person he had ever known. He wanted to know that he wasn’t making a mistake, that he was doing everything correctly. He wanted to feel something besides this cold numbness and violent rage.

He wanted Kirishima to come home.

“Kiss me,” he said instead.

Kirishima smiled at him, sad and wounded, as his fingers closed around Bakugou’s chin, tilting his head slightly upward. His other hand wiped away a streak of blood on Bakugou’s cheek. For a moment they just stood there, Bakugou’s eyes half closing as he leaned forward, desperately craving the taste of Kirishima’s lips that was still emblazoned in his memory. He felt their noses knock together awkwardly, just as it had happened during their first kiss, and their breaths mingled together, sending wave after wave of fresh heat over Bakugou’s skin. His heart was pounding, his head swirling with the scent of smoke and cinnamon, and he closed his eyes as Kirishima’s lips brushed against his, barely touching him, barely giving him any sort of relief before the sound of Uraraka’s voice rang through the air.

“Bakugou! Bakugou, where are you?”

She sounded close. Kirishima jerked away from him, startled, as if for some reason he thought Bakugou was here alone. His eyes were wide, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths, and Bakugou found himself stumbling forward, reaching out to him, even though he knew it was already too late. Kirishima was slipping through his fingers yet again, and it was all his fault.

“Ei,” he said, his voice pleading as his fingers brushed over his arm, almost closed around his wrist before Kirishima jerked away. “Come home. Let’s end this.”

Kirishima shook his head. “You know I can’t do that. Not now. There’s so much more I have to do.” He grinned, shuffling toward the door as he wiped the blood from his face. “This was fun. Let’s do it again sometime, yeah?”

Bakugou didn’t get to respond. Kirishima was already gone.

Seconds later, Uraraka burst through the door, face redder than usual and a few tears in her hero outfit. Her eyes were wide as she surveyed Bakugou from across the room. “Holy shit,” she said through heavy breaths. “You look awful. What happened?”

“I –” He wasn’t even sure how to answer her. There wasn’t even a good enough lie he could tell her that would make him feel okay. He could admit defeat, say that Kirishima had kicked his ass and gotten away yet again, which was extremely true, but it would be a red flag to her, he knew. She knew just about as well as anyone else that he was not one to give up, to submit, to recognize his own failures and shortcomings. She would pressure him, ask more questions, and how was he supposed to tell her that he was a worse person than everyone already thought he was? Because what kind of fucking hero still wanted someone after they'd murdered a man?

He was starting to think that maybe he wasn't a hero after all. Maybe everyone had been right about him all along.

"There's someone in the other room," Bakugou said instead, diverting the conversation so he wouldn't have to answer for his sins. "He needs help getting out. There's also a dead body."

"A dead --" Uraraka frowned. Bakugou could almost see the gears turning in her mind as she tried putting pieces together. She didn't grill him any further, though. She left the conference room and rushed into the office where Bakugou had left a traumatized victim and a dead body while he was in here begging to be fucked.

He let whatever leftover feelings he had for a fucking murderer get to him while there was a dead body in the next room.

All Might would never do anything like this.

No fucking wonder Deku was his successor and not him.

If only he had never let Kirishima take over his entire world and distract him from his dreams. He had become too soft, too domestic. He had settled down far too much, and now he was letting himself fail constantly.

He had never felt more useless or disgusted with himself in his entire life.

While he was fucking around upstairs, his fellow pro heroes were able to actually do their fucking jobs and apprehend several members of the Red Fury and rescue all of the hostages. There was only one casualty.

As Bakugou sat in his apartment curled up on the couch and trying his hardest to empty his mind of whatever shit he still had going on with Kirishima, he couldn't help but hear Kirishima’s voice creeping back in, making him question himself even further.

I didn't have a choice. Things changed, Katsuki. I never wanted to fight you.

Was he being held against his will? Was he being forced to do this?

No, that didn't make any sense. So what then? What the hell happened?

How do you decide who's innocent, Bakugou? And what makes me a villain?

He took four sleeping pills that night, but it didn't help at all. He was running low.

Chapter Text

"Bakugou? Hey! Earth to Bakugou! Where ya at, babe? Come back to us."

Bakugou glanced over at Mina sitting next to him at the tiny, cramped round table on the sidewalk outside the boba shop. She looked concerned, and when her eyes flickered down to his plastic cup and her smile faded, he realized that he had a death grip on it, his knuckles nearly white from the hold. He had zoned out, obviously, but he couldn't help himself. He might have gotten fifteen minutes of sleep the night before.

"Sorry," he grumbled, rubbing at his weary eyes. "I just didn't sleep well last night."

Mina glanced over at Kaminari and Sero, clearly having some sort of telepathic conversation with them that Bakugou was too tired to try to read, then said, "It's okay. I know you've been having a tough time, but we don't really get a lot of down time like this for all of us to hang out together, so I'm trying to keep the conversation light. So here's something fun that happened to me the other day. I was on the subway, and this little old lady came up to me and asked me if I had a bug Quirk. We got to talking, turns out she's a beekeeper. Crazy, right? I've never actually met a beekeeper before. So--"

She prattled on, but her words didn't reach Bakugou’s ears. He stared, watching her mouth move and Kaminari and Sero laugh at something, but all he could focus on was trying to stay awake. He had a meeting with his PR manager after he left here, and after that, a photoshoot with Best Jeanist that his assistant had arranged to "help his image." His mom had invited him to dinner again. He still hadn't responded.

"--long story short, I ended up getting drunk and watching The Bee Movie by myself and then purchasing an ant farm online, which I have no idea what to do with!" Mina sighed dramatically, sipping on her strawberry milk tea with lychee pearls. It was just as pink as she was. "You guys, I cannot be trusted to be by myself when I'm drinking because of dumb shit like this! Ever since Tooru moved out to live with Ojiro, I've been making some bad decisions, and now there are ants loose in my apartment."

"Is this a hint that you want someone to move in?" Sero asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe," Mina replied with a giggle.

"Hell yeah," Kaminari said. "If you guys move in together, that's definitely gotta be the new hangout."

"Um, obviously! It'd be a way cooler place than you and Shinsou's apartment. And speaking of Shinsou, how are you guys?"

Bakugou saw something in Kaminari shift, something that he rarely ever saw with him. He was such a hyperactive, happy-go-lucky person, which was why he and Kirishima had gotten along so well. Not to mention why he annoyed the hell out of Bakugou so much. But still, if someone asked, he was one of Bakugou’s best friends, and yeah, he was a little bit concerned about his well-being.

"Well, we're fine," Kaminari replied, swirling his nearly empty cup around as he leaned back in his chair. His tone hinted that there was more to be said, and he just didn't know how to proceed. Finally, he sighed, and with a very forced smile, said, "We're fine. Better than ever."

"Definitely not like you to not be gushing about your boyfriend," Mina said, frowning. She leaned forward and placed a hand over Kaminari's, squeezing it tightly. "Tell us what's going on, sweetie. Maybe we can help. Bakugou’s the relationship guru, am I right?" Mina winked at him. "He's got all kinds of advice to share."

Bakugou snorted and rolled his eyes. "I really don't think I'm the one you need to come to for relationship advice."

They laughed, but it was uncomfortable and stiff, like they weren't sure if it was okay for them to laugh. Then, Kaminari perked right up and said, "Actually, you might be the perfect person to help."

"Ugh. I don't like where this is going." He tried to avoid conversations like this for this reason. He was always so uncomfortable when people started crying or some shit. Like, what the hell are you supposed to do?

Kirishima always knew what to do. Hell, he didn't mind going up to strangers on the street who looked like they were having a rough day and cheering them right up.

But he was here right now specifically so he could not think about Kirishima, so if he had to hear about Kaminari's relationship issues, then so be it.

"So you know how in the past few years the Commission has had this big push toward refining Quirks?" Kaminari asked.

Of course. That had started about a year before they graduated, and while Quirk marriages had been sort of rare for a while and the Commission had not openly endorsed them, things started changing after all their very best veterans were put out of work by injury or death. So then, lo and behold, the Commission changed their stance to very openly pro-Quirk marriages, even going so far as to literally ask their best heroes to start pushing out kids, though they pretended that that was not what happened. Uraraka, as Bakugou had found out over drinks one night, had been approached by several members of the Commission asking her when she was planning on having kids, which was wildly invasive and inappropriate on a normal basis, not to mention now that they were publicly endorsing Quirk marriages for a "better, brighter future."

Bakugou had never been bothered by this shift in their ideology. If they wanted to be assholes on their own time, that was perfectly fine, so long as they left him alone. Which they did, for the most part. But Kirishima...God, they were all over him all the time. It didn't matter how many times Bakugou told him to ignore them and just be himself because that was the person that the public liked; the Commission had their claws dug way down deep into him. He never knew what exactly was said or done, only that they were upset that two incredibly powerful heroes would not reproduce for them so they could keep the legacy of pro heroes going.

Enter Mina. Mina had never been interested in anyone to Bakugou’s knowledge, and as far as he could tell, her hookups were few and far between. She had just never cared. She was happy living life to the fullest on her own and investing all of her spare time with her friends, no strings attached.

But hey, wouldn't it be great if the public at least thought that there was something between them, just so that they could imagine they had heroes to look forward to in the future?

"Quirk marriages," Bakugou said, nodding stiffly. "Sure."

"They used to not really say anything to us, you know, because we're not really super high up in ranking," Kaminari said. He tapped his fingers on the table rapidly, drumming a very irritating beat like he sometimes did when he got nervous and didn't quite know how to release all that pent-up energy. "But Hitoshi's been doing really well lately, and you know, that whole thing at the bank the other day really put Jirou and Momo on the radar again, so…"

"Ugh! What did they say to you?" Mina asked, drawing back and crossing her arms over her chest. "Because this is the exact same bullshit that they put me through, even though I told them --"

"They just think it's a good idea to stop the physical interaction in public, you know?" Kaminari laughed, but there was no humor behind it. "So I said sure, I can control that, but that's it. And...well…" He pulled out his phone, navigating to some web page, then placed it in the middle of the table for all of them to see.

"You've got to be kidding me," Mina said, wrinkling her nose. Her eyes flashed with rage. "You and Jirou are history. This is insane. I can't believe they think they have this sort of control over our lives. Like, aren't we supposed to be more progressive now? I feel like we've gone back in time fifty years. Ick."

Bakugou stared at the phone screen, where a gossip column was happily reporting a supposed relationship between Kaminari and Jirou, which was weird as hell because they had already been there and done that, and it hadn't worked for a reason.

"I did not sign up to participate in their gross ass breeding kink," Mina said. "Ugh! What is this? Seriously!"

"They're getting scared," Bakugou answered, and they all looked at him like they had forgotten he was there. He sighed in frustration. They'd left him alone for the better part of two years with all this shit, but he could remember the arguments they used when they talked to him, how the fear flashed in their eyes, like they were afraid they would somehow lose control. "They think if they can take the best of the best and make damn sure that they're producing, then they can somehow have a say in what the future looks like. They want to know that they have a future to look forward to."

Sero's eyes widened. They were silent for a long moment, staring at him, unmoving, practically holding their breath as the world moved on around them.

"That's dystopian as fuck," Sero finally said, and Mina nodded rapidly in agreement. "Shit, I was thinking about hitting Todoroki up this weekend, but maybe I should wait."

"That might be a good idea," Bakugou said. "Also, you can do better than Icy Hot."

Sero rolled his eyes, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smile, but he still looked worried. "You think if I do move in with you, Mina, they'll--"

"Don't even say it." Mina plugged her ears and shook her head, looking disgusted. "Ugh, this is such total bullshit. They shouldn't have any say in our relationships!"

"So don't let them!" Bakugou exclaimed. "I made it perfectly fucking clear that I had no interest in the shit they had to say to me, and they left me alone."

They were silent again. This conversation had really gone downhill very quickly, and Bakugou found that he would rather hear about Mina's ant farm she had started than continue this talk. Hell, he would rather just leave.

The sound of Sero sipping the last few drops of his tea broke the silence. He set it aside, chewed his bottom lip, then asked, "You think that's why Kirishima left?"

Mina sighed wearily. "Sero --" She cast a wary glance in Bakugou's direction, shaking her head.

But Bakugou interrupted her before she could go into a rant. "No. It couldn't be. I'm sure there were several reasons, but Kirishima didn't care about all that."

"Uh, yeah he did," Kaminari said. "Like, a lot."

Bakugou shot a glare at him, one that made him wince like he had been slapped. "And how the fuck would you know? You weren't dating him! You --"

He stopped himself. Over the past two years, he had worked hard to try to scrub his memory of all the shit that had happened with Kirishima, but nothing had been cleaned out. Not entirely. He had just tucked all of those memories into a tiny box in the back of his mind and left them there, not touching them. But now they were coming back to him full force, bearing down on him with so much weight that he could barely hold them up. He felt like Atlas, buried under the weight of the world, and he was slowly breaking down.

He tried to remember what had happened that day he thought Kirishima was trying to jump off the roof, if there had been any sort of incident that could have triggered some invasive thought that made Kirishima act that way. But he was drawing a blank.

"Kirishima left because he's a coward and he can't deal with his own emotions," Bakugou finally said.

Kaminari gritted his teeth, sighing angrily as he slammed his hand into the table. "Don't talk about him that way. You're full of shit --"

"Hey! Who's the one that's fought him twice?" Bakugou’s voice was loud. He had attracted the attention of a few bystanders, but none of them seemed keen on sticking around for the rest of the conversation. "I know what he is. I've seen what he's done. Jesus, Denki, he fucking killed a man! And for what? Because he was a little sad that he couldn't kiss me in public?" He stood from his chair so quickly that it toppled over onto the sidewalk. "Fuck off."

He started to walk away, to put as much distance as he could between them, but Kaminari was on him in an instant, grabbing his wrist and jerking him around with such violent force that he almost lost his footing. He stumbled, and rage flared in his chest. Kaminari glared. Bakugou took a step toward him, prepared for a fight, but Kaminari didn't back down. He barely even flinched. Something in his yellow eyes flashed darkly.

"You keep acting like this is your fight and that you're the only one hurting, but you're wrong, okay?" Kaminari said. "He hurt all of us too. So the best thing we can do is fucking be there for each other. But you won't let us be there for you! You keep shutting us out! You lost a boyfriend that day when he left, but I lost a best friend. Did you forget that? Or are you just that damn selfish --"

"Do not fucking talk to me about being selfish," Bakugou growled. "It was selfish what Kirishima did, and now we're all suffering the consequences."

There were people watching them, Bakugou knew. Civilians loved drama between heroes. They ate it up like it was reality television. But he couldn't pay attention to them through the pounding in his head, the complete rage that was blinding him. Kaminari was starting to back down, but he looked like he had a lot more to say. Mina and Sero had gotten up and were standing behind Kaminari, hesitating to intervene but ready if they needed to.

"You let him go twice," Kaminari said, his voice so low Bakugou could barely hear him. He had never heard him speak so softly. "I know he didn't win. You're better than that. You wouldn't let him. Not if you really thought he was gone."

Bakugou clenched his fists. He wanted to punch something -- mostly Kaminari -- but he resisted, letting the anger flare inside of him. "I'm not going to let my feelings for someone get in the way of my duties as a hero."

Kaminari frowned, his face pinched like he was in some sort of pain, and then he sighed and shook his head. "I don't know if we really know what being a hero means anymore."

Bakugou sat with his feet propped up on the table, arms crossed over his chest and staring at his PR manager, Inoue Kenshin, who sat across from him tapping away on his laptop. He hadn't said a word since Bakugou had entered the room. Bakugou’s assistant -- who used to be Kirishima’s -- sat next to Inoue, her muscles tensed and her eyes wide in her perfectly round head. She had a laptop in front of her too, prepared to take notes or set up any appointments that were decided on during this meeting. She kept glancing at Bakugou nervously, like she was afraid he might snap at her any second, though to his knowledge, he had never given her any reason to be afraid of him. He was just louder and more blunt than Kirishima had ever been, that was all.

The silence droned on, with nothing to occupy them except the tapping on the keyboard as Inoue did as he pleased. Bakugou cleared his throat, kicking at the table enough to jolt the laptop, and Inoue looked up at him through narrowed eyes, clearly irritated.

"Let's get this shit over with," Bakugou said. "I don't have all day."

Inoue sighed and adjusted his glasses. He reminded Bakugou of Iida, complete with the muted rage and the homicidal tendencies, though he didn't have a Quirk nearly as strong, which is why he was stuck doing PR. He tapped on the keyboard again and then turned it around so Bakugou could see it. "What is this?" he asked.

Bakugou stared at the screen, where there was a picture of him and Kaminari arguing from earlier. It had already hit some gossip site, and there were forty comments underneath it. He rolled his eyes, shrugging. "Kaminari was being stupid, as usual, so I had to set him straight."

"This person said they were there," Inoue said, scrolling down to the comments, "and they heard you discussing your former partner. Is that true?"

Bakugou swung his legs off the table and slammed his hands down, leaning forward. The assistant jumped. "He accused me of letting that asshole go. Does that sound like something I would do?"

Inoue stared at him, unblinking and expressionless, as he raised an eyebrow. "Did you?"

"No!" He stood up, hands still resting on the table, and kicked his chair out of the way. "You don't understand. Nobody does. He's stronger now. He's harder to fight. I don't admit defeat easily, but Kirishima always had an edge on me. He knows how I fight. He knows how to back me into a corner."

He swallowed hard, holding Inoue's gaze despite the twisting, nagging feeling in his gut that left him feeling disgusted with himself. Kirishima knew how to back him into a corner only because he knew that Bakugou was still attracted to him. He was using that to his advantage, to get whatever he wanted and then leave like it was nothing. Just like he had two years ago.

And the worst part was that Bakugou was falling for it.

"I thought the Commission told you to stay away from that case," Inoue said, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table. "And yet you run headfirst into it as soon as you get a chance."

"We didn't know it was him!" Even if he had, though, he would have agreed to go. Fuck Takahashi and his task force. They couldn't keep him from beating the hell out of Kirishima any chance he got.

Inoue rubbed at his temple, then removed his glasses and sighed. "There's only so much I can do for you. If you upset the Commission and they revoke your license, the public will have plenty to say about that. Public opinion is already starting to shift. Did you know that your approval ratings have dropped significantly since the hostage situation at the bank? You're still number four, but you won't be for long if you keep this up."

Bakugou clenched his jaw. "Keep what up?"

Inoue whipped out a cloth to clean his glasses and waved it vaguely. "Whatever this is you're doing. I understand that you cared for him a great deal, but --"

"I am not letting him get away."

Inoue glanced up at him, frowning, as he continued to clean his glasses. "You've given them a briefing of what occurred between the two of you when you were fighting, but is there something else you didn't wish to share with the Commission that you'd like to share with me?"

Bakugou held his gaze for a long moment, his breathing shallow. He had told the Commission about the fight, how Kirishima had told him the dead man -- a banker by the name of Adachi Nori -- was not innocent, how he had claimed he didn't have any choice, that he had more things to do, that he couldn't come back. But he didn't mention the brief kiss they'd shared, how it had left him wanting more and how the concept of right and wrong just stopped having any meaning to him then.

"I told them everything I knew," he said.

It was clear Inoue didn't believe him, but he sighed and put his glasses back on, not pressing him any further. "The Commission and the police both ran a background check on Adachi, and they came up blank other than a DUI when he was in his twenties. Did Kirishima kill this man over a thirty-year-old DUI charge? Or did he have some other goal, and Mr. Adachi just got in his way?"

Bakugou slowly lowered himself back into his seat, his heart pounding. He had wanted to believe there was a reason Kirishima had blood on his hands now, but he should have known better. "I'm not sure what they were doing at the bank that day."

"Several of his members got arrested, including a young girl calling herself Gorgon. Did you know anything about her?"

Oh. That probably would have been the girl with snakes for hair. She barely looked over sixteen. "I saw her once."

"She went missing two months ago. Her parents sent her off to a boarding school to help with her behavioral issues, and one morning, she vanished in between classes."

Bakugou glanced at his assistant, who was sitting completely still and listening attentively instead of taking notes. "You think he's taking people?"

Inoue shrugged. "That I can't be too sure of, but I do think that he's manipulating people with fragile constitutions and tapping into their insecurities to make them do his bidding."

Bakugou thought about Taiyo, the kid Kirishima had wanted the Commission to take into their care and how he had gone missing with little to no coverage of his disappearance. He had forgotten to ask Kirishima about him, heat of the moment and all. He wondered what he had the kid doing for him. Maybe running drugs and other illegal shit like that guy Rody Soul used to do.

"But we're not here to talk about that, are we?" Inoue said, brightening as much as he was capable of doing. He moved his laptop and folded his hands in front of him. "I'm not a criminal investigator or a hero. I'm your PR manager, and my job is to protect your public image, which is suffering right now. So here are some suggestions I have for you, if you're willing to listen and not put up a fight."

Bakugou rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He didn't care much for publicity stunts, how the Commission strategically placed heroes in places where paparazzi conveniently happened to be hanging out so that they could put out pictures of their heroes being good citizens and doing the right thing. He'd already agreed to help plant some damn trees on Earth Day last year, and that was quite possibly the most pointless thing he had ever done. Kirishima loved that shit, visiting sick kids in hospitals and volunteering at animal shelters. Bakugou just felt...strange. Like none of it mattered. He was only there because someone told him to be there, not because he wanted to be.

“I think one of our best options right now would be perhaps a joint interview with Midoriya, since he’s the number one –”

“Hey, guess what? I’d rather kill myself.”

The assistant gasped, covering her mouth with her hand as the sound escaped her, like the sound had even frightened her. Inoue glared. He looked completely exhausted. “I was almost assigned to work with Tokoyami, and then they stuck me with you,” he said, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket. “How about we take ten and then come back to this when we’re settled down?”

Bakugou shrugged. “Fine. I didn’t wanna be here anyway.”

Inoue ground his teeth together and popped out a cigarette, examining it like it was his only lifeline. “Have you been seeing your psychiatrist?”

“The one the Commission appointed for me? Fuck no.”

“Perhaps it would do you some good to set up an appointment,” Inoue said pointedly as he stood from the table. “Especially with all of the recent events that have taken place.”

Bakugou didn’t respond, though he had plenty to say about the shitty psychiatrist that he hadn’t seen in over six months. He didn’t like the way she pretended to listen to him attentively, and he certainly didn’t like knowing that she was sitting there trying to figure him out, probably running diagnoses through her mind the longer he talked. But he was almost out of sleeping pills. There were maybe two or three left, and though they hadn’t really been doing their job, they were better than nothing at all.

Inoue left the room, already lighting his cigarette, and for a long moment, nothing moved. The air was silent, except for the slight breath he could hear from his assistant. He looked up at her, and their eyes held for several seconds before she said, “I really liked Eijirou. He was very kind.”

Bakugou huffed, wanting to say something sarcastic, but he found that his artillery was completely empty, so he rolled his eyes and got up from the table with no intention of coming back for the rest of the meeting.

There wasn’t much going on. The streets were quiet, and Bakugou returned home early, skipping dinner in favor of a cup of tea and what was left of his pills. He turned on a cheesy, decades-old horror movie for background noise and sat on the couch, browsing through social media on his phone and not interacting with anything. Hagakure had date night pictures posted with Ojiro, and Sato had posted pictures of his new apartment and some cakes he had baked for the occasion. Jirou had posted a video of an original song she was working on, and it had gotten some ridiculous interaction so far. He wouldn’t be surprised if it made it on the news as one of those fluff pieces they liked to share about what heroes were doing.

Inoue had called him six times and left him three very angry voicemails.

His mother had called him twice.

His father had called him once and left a very soft-spoken voicemail begging to see him soon.

Mina had sent him eight text messages yelling at him for his behavior that afternoon and asking him to apologize to Kaminari.

He ignored every bit of it. He had nothing to say to any of them.

He picked up his cup of tea, sipping at it carefully even though it was still piping hot. It burned his tongue, but he barely even registered the sting. Mango jumped up next to him and stared at him for a long moment, her big green eyes nearly swallowed whole by her dark pupils. He stared back at her, almost wanting to kick her off the couch, but then she started purring and kneading against his belly, and suddenly every bit of stress sort of melted away for a second as he scratched her behind her ears. She looked up at him again, then crawled into his lap and curled up to sleep.

“Maybe I should get another cat for you,” he said. “So you won’t be so lonely all day.”

Her purrs grew louder in response.

Another text message came through from Mina.

Ashido (19:52 pm): denki doesn’t seem like he’s upset, but he’s refusing to talk to you. It’s only fair that you’re the one to apologize to him since you started it.

Bakugou stared at the bright screen for a long time, feeling nothing. He didn’t think he was in the wrong for talking to Kaminari the way he did, but he also knew that he was not the only one hurting. And yeah, maybe he had been a little selfish, but he wasn’t ready to apologize. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Kaminari would get over it, just like he always did.

Still…

He opened up his last conversation with Kaminari and read over the messages. Do you think cows get mad at us for taking their milk? Kaminari had asked.

I’m blocking you, Bakugou had responded.

He sighed, started typing out a half-assed apology, then let his finger hover over the send button. It was probably better for all of them to suffer together, and it certainly didn’t feel good pushing everyone away from him, but the wounds still felt raw, and he didn’t think he was actually ready to reconcile. Being alone was what was best for now, at least until he could figure out this mess of emotions he was feeling for Kirishima. That was definitely not something he wanted to share with anyone.

He opened up Mina’s messages again, chewing on his bottom lip as he debated whether or not he wanted to say something to her. He typed out, “Are you sure he didn’t say anything else that night he stayed with you?” Then he deleted it. He kind of had a feeling she had already told him everything she knew. Once Mina started talking, she usually didn’t stop until there was nothing else left.

Mango purred. He sipped his tea. The movie played in the background. He could hear the sounds of knives slashing and people screaming. His eyes started to slide shut. The vibration of his phone, however, stirred him awake.

It was a number that he did not have saved in his phone. That rarely ever happened, unless someone had accidentally gotten the wrong number. Looking at it now, his heartbeat accelerated, and his mouth suddenly felt very dry. Mango looked up at him, her eyes narrowed in annoyance like she was asking him to stop the vibration so she could get some sleep.

No. It couldn’t be.

He almost declined it, but at the last second, he hit the accept button instead, holding it up to his ear but not saying anything. His hand was shaking, he realized, and words wouldn’t be able to leave his mouth even if he knew what he wanted to say.

A woman’s voice finally broke through. “Hello? Hello? Katsuki?”

He recognized the voice. Kirishima Setsuko. He hadn’t heard it in over a year. They had stayed in contact for a long while, but he knew that she and Tess had their own problems to deal with, and he had gotten busy, and suddenly the communication had just stopped. He sat up, startling Mango enough to make her leap off his lap and disappear into the bedroom.

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “It’s me. Hey.”

“Sorry to call you out of the blue,” she said with a slight chuckle. “I know we haven’t spoken in a while. How have you been?”

He exhaled. What a loaded fucking question. Surely she wasn’t serious. He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head, and stood from the couch. “Um…I’ve been better, I guess. How are you? How’s Tess?”

“Still sick,” Setsuko answered. “But she’s managing. We were thinking of taking a trip to Canada to visit her family, but she’s had a rough month. Several seizures, lots of nausea. She isn’t able to compete anymore. The doctors don’t think she’ll ever be able to compete again.”

“Oh.” He stopped walking and stared out the window at the balcony, unsure of what to say. The sickness had started shortly before graduation, and her health had only declined after that. It started with the doctors saying she might have suffered a stroke, and then a host of other problems followed.

“But to add on to your question, I believe the proper term for how we’ve been doing is shitty.” She laughed, though there was no humor behind it. “We’ve been watching the news. Tess pretends like she doesn't understand what's going on, and we don't talk about it much. I wish I could pretend the way that she does. Or just forget entirely.” She sighed, and he thought that it sounded like she might be crying. “I wish I could understand what happened. He calls every few days, but he won't explain himself. And he won't come over because he's afraid of getting us in trouble. He's scared of even calling us sometimes."

Bakugou's heart sank. Of course he would call his moms. Of course. But why not him? He took a step closer to the sliding doors leading out to the balcony. He remembered the day Kirishima climbed up on that railing, how his heart had dropped, how he had just acted on pure instinct and ran, not understanding what was happening, only knowing that he needed to stop it. He chewed at his fingernail for a long moment until it bled, and the slight sting of it shook him from his trance.

“Have you talked to him lately?” he asked, not knowing if he wanted to hear the answer.

She paused. He could hear her breath over the phone, a little shaky. "Yes."

His stomach knotted, and he leaned his head against the cool glass, forcing a breath out of his nose. “When?”

“After he left the bank.”

“You –” He stopped himself, the fear swelling in his chest making his voice rise to an impossible volume, one that sounded far too angry, which Setsuko absolutely did not deserve. She was like a second mother to him, a mother he wished Mitsuki could be sometimes. She never raised her voice, never judged anyone. “He called you then?”

“Yes. From an anonymous number.”

His mouth tasted sour. He let out a breath, and it fogged up the glass, obscuring his reflection. “What did he say?”

Silence. Then, Setsuko let out a weak sob. “He said he was sorry, and he hoped that we could forgive him. That was before all the details hit the news, of course. Did he really…?”

“Yes.” He stared into the night, at the twinkling lights of the city below. There didn’t seem to be any sign of life anywhere.

Setsuko sniffled, and Bakugou stood and listened to her cry for what felt like several minutes as he let his own thoughts drift back to the day at the bank. He played back everything that he could remember, trying to dig deep within himself to feel some sort of repulsion or shame, but he couldn’t find it. He found that at that moment, he couldn’t hate Kirishima at all.

“He loves you, Katsuki,” Setsuko finally said. “I hope you know that.”

Then why did he leave? He wanted to ask the question out loud, to let someone else weigh in so that maybe he would stop feeling so damn crazy. If someone else could calm all of the troubling thoughts plaguing his mind, then maybe he could get some rest again.

He just stayed silent. He didn’t know how to respond without sounding like an asshole.

“The police have already been here questioning us,” Setsuko said. “It stressed Tess out. She cried the whole time; she didn’t quite know what was happening. Are you going to tell them that he's been calling us?”

The proper thing to do would be to contact the Commission immediately, but he hadn’t said anything about Mina, and he definitely wasn’t about to say anything about the Kirishimas. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

He could practically see the smile lighting up her face at that moment. “I always knew you were one of the good ones. You know, Tess and I always sort of assumed that you and Eijirou would get married right out of U.A. Kind of scared us, actually.”

Bakugou snorted. “Not like he didn’t try.”

“I think you would have been fine. Eijirou used to have so many issues in middle school, you know. We thought he would never grow out of it. But then everything changed, and once he met you…you really helped him, Katsuki. You and Denki and Mina and Hanta. You were the best thing that ever happened for him.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Yeah, see how all my help worked out.”

“Do not blame yourself!” Setsuko exclaimed. “Whatever’s going on with him right now has nothing to do with you. If anything, I think you’re what’s saving him.”

He shook his head. If anyone besides Setsuko had said that to him, he would be in a rage, but instead he just felt hollow. All of the loud thoughts fogging his mind and fighting to escape just kept crashing into each other like bullet trains on the wrong track. He had to be careful, or else he might explode. “I have to go. It was good talking to you.”

“You too. We’ll get through this, okay? Everything is going to be fine. You should come over for dinner soon. I’ll have to let you know when Tess is having one of her good days. I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

He knew, with as flaky as he had been lately, that he probably would not follow through, but he nodded anyway. “Sure. Sounds good. Have a good night.”

“You too, sweetie. We love you lots.”

He debated whether he should return the sentiment. He didn’t give affection out very willingly. Hell, he barely ever even told his own parents he loved them. But he kind of had a feeling that Setsuko could probably use a little positivity right now, and if there was anyone he could be positive for, it was the Kirishimas.

“Love you too.”

When he hung up the phone, he made his way to the bathroom and turned on the sink, letting the water run for a few seconds before splashing some onto his face. It was hot against his skin, and he winced. All of the exhaustion had left his body. He would have to pull another long shift tomorrow without any rest.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked tired. If any villains saw him on the street in this condition, they would probably attack him no problem, thinking it would be an easy fight. After all, pro heroes were supposed to always look camera ready like All Might, unless they had just been in some sort of devastating fight. If there were any pictures taken of him, he knew they would have to photoshop the hell out of them just to make him look halfway human.

He thought about taking a shower. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d done so – two, maybe three days, possibly longer. He was surprised Mina hadn’t said something to him about it because he knew he smelled like sweat, and not the caramelly sweet scent that came off him when he used his Quirk. Kirishima used to bury his face in Bakugou’s neck and tell him he smelled like a caramel latte, which Bakugou would pretend to hate as Kirishima pressed kisses over his skin.

Shit. He wished for one damn second he could stop thinking about him.

A knock at the door dragged him from his thoughts. He turned around quickly, listening for any sign that it could be an intruder, but his gut instinct told him that it was perfectly harmless. Maybe it was Kaminari coming to apologize for his accusations.

He walked out of the bathroom, stepping around Mango, who was cleaning herself directly in his path, then threw open the door to find the flower delivery guy there again, holding a bouquet of irises.

“Special delivery again!” he exclaimed, waving the bouquet around with a big smile. “Seems like you’ve got a really big fan.”

Bakugou glared at him, snatching the bouquet out of his hands and digging through the flowers for a note. He found one, buried deep in the middle of the flowers, written on a plain white piece of paper, unlike last time. The delivery guy probably didn’t even know about this one.

“So I know last time wasn’t good for you, but do you think maybe I could get an autog –”

“No.”

“Oh, come on! I’ve brought you flowers twice! Don’t you think I deserve some sort of tip?”

“Here’s a tip. Get the fuck away from my apartment and don’t come back. I don’t want any more shit from you.”

The delivery guy cocked his head to the side, studying Bakugou for a moment. Finally, he scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I guess you’re just as rude as everyone says you are. Fine. See ya in hell, pal. Thanks for saving the city or whatever.”

He started to walk away, and Bakugou almost felt bad about his outburst, but there were more important things at stake now besides a fan’s hurt feelings. Kirishima had written him another note, the fucking coward. Making some guy deliver it to him instead of coming here himself.

Can we talk? Meet me tomorrow night around 9 where we had our third date. I’ll tell you what you want to know.

Chapter Text

Bakugou had a hard time wrestling with what he needed to do. Upon first reading the note, his immediate thought was to throw it away and go about life as if nothing had happened, but overnight, he stayed up debating the pros and cons of going to meet up with Kirishima.

The first problem, of course, was that he had no idea where they had gone on their third date. He was never good at remembering details like that. Kirishima had a damn scrapbook made of every single one of their dates and any significant events that occurred during their relationship, and he had left it when he disappeared, but naturally, Bakugou had exploded it in a fit of rage, then threw the remnants somewhere that he could not find. He searched all over the apartment, but came up short, so he was left relying on his own memories if he chose to actually go.

But he hadn't made that decision yet. If he went, it would surely end in another fight, and after speaking with Setsuko and arguing with Kaminari yesterday, he wasn't sure if he was emotionally available to be in the news again. Still, if it meant finally putting an end to this and getting Kirishima off the streets before he harmed anyone else, then that would be worth it.

The problem with that, of course, was if he would be able to do it. Despite all the denying he'd been doing, he thought that maybe he hadn't been putting up his best fight, but it was only because he always went in ready to win and then got completely sidetracked by whatever feelings he was having, and he fucking hated it. He hated not having a clear head. No one had ever been such a damn distraction to him the way that Kirishima was.

If he went and there was no fight, he would have to tell the Commission. It would make him a pretty shitty hero if he had all this information given to him and he just kept it to himself while there were other heroes out there working to get the Red Fury thrown in jail. They had told him to stay away from the case, but how could he when he had been handed such a golden opportunity like this? Iida and Tokoyami weren't going to have this opportunity. This was all him.

At around eight -- an hour before he was supposed to be there -- he decided that it would be in his, the public's, and the Commission’s best interest if he went, so he would go. As soon as he figured out where he was going.

The question was, did Kirishima consider their weekend at his moms' cabin as their first date? How were they counting? Bakugou didn't count that as a date at all. They had gone as friends, and things had shifted over the weekend. It was just an event, nothing formal. So that would mean their first date was...movie night in Kirishima's dorm? And then after that was…god, all of that was so long ago. He didn’t think he would ever have to memorize the order of things so he’d know where they were supposed to meet.

Mina would probably know. She loved keeping up with shit like that. But they were not speaking right now, so he would figure it out on his own.

It was about fifteen minutes till when he finally decided that it had to be their beach date. But it was too fucking cold to be hanging out around the ocean at this time of night. He swore that Kirishima was just doing this to make him suffer. Grabbing a heavy coat and a scarf tucked away at the back of his nearly empty closet, he said a quick goodbye to Mango and hurried out the door, hoping that he wouldn’t be late. It would be just his luck to get there and Kirishima had already left.

He waited for half an hour. The boardwalk was crowded with far too many people for the end of October, which made him feel really anxious for some reason, like there were eyes on him no matter where he walked. Surely people recognized him, but he could not possibly imagine trying to carry on a half-hearted conversation with a fan at this moment. He pulled his scarf up over his nose and shoved his hands in his pockets, tucking himself into a dark corner where hopefully no one would notice him, then watched and waited, each second ticking by like a time bomb waiting to explode.

When twenty minutes had passed, he considered giving up and leaving. It was past his bedtime anyway. He hated staying up past nine on regular nights, but after all the restless nights he had had over the past couple of weeks, the exhaustion was starting to weigh on him. He didn’t think that Kirishima was actually coming. Maybe he was creeping around somewhere, just trying to see if Bakugou would have the audacity to show up. Maybe he wanted to see just how desperate Bakugou had become.

Maybe there was a surprise attack planned.

He got up, making his way down the boardwalk and shoving past people who were waiting in line at the booths for food and leaning over the railings to look at the ocean crashing around below. It was already cold enough as it was, but the air coming off of the sea made Bakugou’s skin on his face sting. If he remembered correctly, Kirishima had dragged him here in the middle of January for their third date, which was more cold and fucking insane than coming out here tonight. There had been actual ice on the boardwalk, but at least they were the only people there.

Sighing, he descended the rickety wooden steps and landed with a huff in the soft, white sand below, sending a spray of it over his shoes and the bottom of his pants. God, he hated sand. It got in all kinds of places that it wasn’t supposed to be, and he usually felt itchy for days after going to the beach. Why did he have to choose this, of all places?

There were a few people walking down the beach, some families with kids who had flashlights out and were searching the sands for some sort of creature skittering around in the darkness. He heard the high-pitched laugh of a woman as her boyfriend lifted her up in the air and tossed her in the water.

His heart pounded. If there was an attack coming, how many people would Kirishima bring? He glanced around, searching the shadows for any sort of suspicious activity, but as far as he could tell, there was nothing. If there was an attack coming, would he be able to hold them off and protect all these people at the same time? The fifteen-year-old asshole version of himself would have said he could do it with no problem, but he’d seen the reality of things outside of their training now, and he knew that it was harder to get the job done when there were people’s lives at stake.

Would Kirishima put these people in danger just to get to him? Was there some sort of ulterior motive to this meeting that he hadn’t realized before?

He sighed, staring out across the dark waves lapping at the shore. The moon was obscured by thick, gray clouds, and there was a scent like rain hanging heavily in the air. It was 9:36, and he was still standing here alone, gazing out into nothing and letting the sound of the waves lull him into a thoughtless, peaceful existence. Quite possibly the only time that he had been completely at peace for a while now.

It was 9:42 when he decided that he was done with waiting, and as he kicked up some sand and turned back toward the boardwalk, he slammed right into what could have been a brick wall. Pain shot through his head as he looked up to meet red, brightly shimmering eyes staring back at him, and something inside him snapped. He felt the heat pool in his hands, the anger flare in his chest, and before he even knew what he was doing, his palms met Kirishima’s chest, and he was shoving him back, tiny explosions popping against him as he staggered into the sand.

It barely seemed to faze Kirishima, however. There were scorch marks on him now, and he only zipped up his coat all the way to the neck and pulled his beanie down over his forehead. He had tucked away all of his red hair except for a few strands that had escaped and were hanging in front of his eyes. His lips curled into the tiniest of smiles.

“Our third date was at the park,” he said flatly.

“What?” Bakugou let out a breath, realizing now how fucking cold his hands were, and shoved them back into his pockets. He was shaking, trying to contain whatever strange fury had just seized him. He hadn’t thought that seeing Kirishima in this setting would set off this sort of reaction, but he was insanely angry. Angry that Kirishima had suggested this meeting, angry that he had actually shown up.

Angry because he didn’t know what to expect out of it. Angry because the longer he stood there staring at him, the more he thought that maybe he wasn’t angry after all.

“Yeah. There was the cabin, and then –”

“The cabin was not a date.”

“It absolutely was,” Kirishima said with a roll of his eyes. “I didn’t ask you to go hiking with me over winter break as bros.”

“Well, you didn’t make that very clear,” Bakugou grumbled.

“I really don’t know how I could have made it any clearer. I was at the park waiting for you –”

“Maybe stop sending fucking riddles for me to try to figure out then.”

Kirishima rolled his eyes again. As if he had any right to be annoyed. “That wasn’t really a riddle.”

Bakugou gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to push him again. It wouldn’t be wise to start a fight right here. People were still talking about the argument he’d had with Kaminari yesterday like it was some worldwide, groundbreaking event. That’s what happened when you were in the top five, though. “What do you want?” he growled.

Kirishima glanced over his shoulder, where a couple of kids were playing tag and laughing, completely oblivious that there was a wanted murderer so close to them. “Can we go someplace private?”

He reached out, his fingers brushing over Bakugou’s arm, but Bakugou jerked away from him. “Are you fucking insane? I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Do you really think it would go over well if any of these people figured out you were here with me?”

Bakugou stared at him. He had a point. Neither of them were all that good at blending in anyway, but with Kirishima’s face plastered all over the nightly news, it would only be a matter of time before someone made a connection. Civilians weren’t as stupid as Bakugou used to think.

“Fine,” he grumbled, blatantly ignoring Kirishima’s outstretched hand and making his way across the beach again. The only privacy they were going to get was in the deep, dark shadows underneath the boardwalk, where Kirishima had dragged him on their third date for an extremely heated makeout session that had almost led to him forgetting all his inhibitions and losing his virginity in the sand. Had it not been for the other couple that had snuck away looking for some privacy and barging in on them, he would have had sand in all kinds of nooks and crevices, and if that was how it went down, he was pretty certain he would never have had sex again.

“What are you thinking about?” Kirishima asked, bumping his shoulder against Bakugou’s as casually as if nothing had changed, as if they were still just best friends walking across U.A. campus together while he talked about nothing and everything and Bakugou actually listened because he cared.

He glanced over at Kirishima strolling next to him with a little skip in his step, the walk of an innocent person who knew no shame or regret, and he was extremely glad that he had his scarf pulled over his face to hide the sheer redness that he knew was tinting his skin. Kirishima smiled at him, tilting his head to the side in consideration, and for just a second he looked like his old self, not the tired, world-weary person that had taken over. It made Bakugou’s pulse speed up, and he looked away and kicked at the sand, forgetting briefly what they were doing here to begin with.

As they walked, Bakugou searched behind support beams, halfway expecting someone to pop out and attack him, but the only thing that emerged was a stray dog picking through a pile of trash and then running away with a half-eaten roast pork. Still, he kept his guard up, not knowing who all of the members of the Red Fury were and what Quirks they had up their sleeves. He had seen the chameleon person at the bank, and as far as he knew, they were not apprehended. It would be easy to miss someone who blended so seamlessly into their surroundings.

He heard Kirishima sigh frustratedly from beside him. “I’m here by myself. You don’t have to keep looking for someone.”

“And why should I trust you?”

“I guess you don’t really have a reason to. Same reason why you didn’t show up with anyone, maybe. Because this is between us.”

The hair at the back of Bakugou’s neck prickled. He stopped short in his steps, melting into the shadows as he turned to face Kirishima. Down here, he could barely hear the idle chatter of the crowd or the crashing waves. Down here, there could very easily be a fight with no consequences.

Looking at Kirishima right now though, with the darkness swallowing up his features except for the slightest sliver of light cutting a line across his scarred eye, he didn’t feel the fight brewing inside of him. No matter how far down he reached, he couldn’t quite seem to grasp the hatred he knew he should have been feeling. Every time he thought he had found it, it slipped right through his fingers.

“It’s between all of the other people you left behind too,” Bakugou said.

Kirishima blew out a breath, digging his boot into the sand. “I know that. But right now, I need you to understand –”

“There’s not a single fucking thing you can say to me to make me understand.”

“So ask me questions! What do you want to know?”

There were thousands of things going through Bakugou’s mind, things that had plagued him since he woke up that day and found the note announcing Kirishima’s disappearance, but now that he had the chance to ask them, he was drawing a blank. Where to even begin? It wasn’t as if Kirishima was going to tell him anything useful. He’d already asked what made him leave, if he had had any sort of role in it, and Kirishima had just ignored him.

Maybe because he knew Bakugou wouldn’t really like the answer.

They held each other’s gaze for a long time. Bakugou let his eyes roam over his face, over the little white scars that were carved into his face now, scars that meant he must have taken some ridiculously hard hits, since he had never scarred before. The only time Bakugou had ever really managed to leave marks on him was when he let him.

“How long have you been with them?” he finally asked.

Kirishima leaned against the wooden beam, crossing his arms over his chest with a shaky exhale. At this angle, more light filtered in on him, bathing him in a sort of white halo. “Been with them or been their leader?”

“Both.”

Kirishima hesitated. There were fresh bruises on his jaw that Bakugou had been too irritated to notice before. They were far too fresh to be his doing. “A little over a year. And two months.”

They stared at each other. The air between them seemed to crackle with electricity. There was nothing dark or malicious about Kirishima right now, just the face of a tired, wounded soul. A face that reminded Bakugou of the night he’d seen him trying to jump off the balcony. It twisted something in him, like a knife slicing through his insides and bleeding him dry.

“How?” he asked, his voice sounding very small and foreign to his ears.

“How did I get involved with them?” Kirishima shook his head, sinking his sharp teeth into his bottom lip for a second before soothing over it with his tongue. “That’s a little complicated.”

“I haven’t been sleeping very well. I’ve got all night.”

Kirishima stared down at the sand, not saying anything for a long time. Bakugou waited, but as seconds ticked by and the sound of thunder rumbled overhead, his patience started to grow very thin. He took a step forward, thought about punching him, then stopped when Kirishima’s eyes snapped up to meet his again.

He felt the air leave his lungs, and the icy cold hand of fear gripped him tightly around the throat, suffocating him.

Kirishima was crying. He had not seen him cry in so long that he had forgotten how completely and utterly broken it made him look. He watched a single tear cut its way down his cheek and disappear underneath his jacket as a war waged in his mind of how to react. On the one hand, Kirishima was supposed to be unbreakable. He had always been such a firm support, a certain positivity that lit up the world wherever he went, and when he started to fall apart, it made everything else unravel too. But on the other hand, Bakugou couldn’t trust that any of this was sincere.

Setsuko’s words echoed in his mind: He loves you, Katsuki. I hope you know that.

Bullshit. You didn’t leave people you loved.

“Marcus found me about a month before he went to jail and took me in,” Kirishima explained. “I was staying the night in different hotels every night using what was left of my paycheck, but eventually the money ran out, and I didn’t have anywhere to go.”

You could have come home. He thought it, but didn’t say anything. For a little while after filing a missing person report, they were actually able to track his movements, but they had never quite been quick enough, and then the trail just ran cold, and the media stopped caring. Why chase a hero that had run out on them when there were plenty who had stuck around?

“I didn’t know who he was. I was staying at this homeless shelter, and this girl that I met there just up and disappeared one day. She came back with him and said that he was a good man, that he could take me with them and take care of me, and I wouldn’t have to worry about money or food or a bed ever again. He didn’t really strike me as a bad guy, and I trusted her, so I went with him, and…”

Lightning flashed, lighting up the darkness that engulfed them. A scream tore through the air as rain started to fall. He could hear the sound of retreating footsteps and waves crashing in a blind rage against the shore. Cool air tore through his coat, and he shivered. “So you’re trying to tell me that you got sucked into a life of crime without your consent?” he asked with a scoff. “Tch. You could have left at any time –”

“You know about his Quirk, right? How he could make people see things that weren’t really there?”

He remembered reading articles online about how Marcus Friese had used his Quirk to manipulate people into joining him, how he had used it to drive several of his members mad. The ones that suffered his attacks were still stuck in asylums to this day, receiving treatment but not recovering. They were basically living as ghosts consumed by fear.

And now, looking at Kirishima’s pale face and lifeless eyes, he worried that maybe he was staring at a ghost too. It felt like a fist had gripped his heart and closed around it, squeezing until it threatened to burst. “What did he do to you?”

Kirishima shook his head, a low chuckle falling from his lips as he wiped away his tears. “Nothing. He opened my eyes and let me see the world as it really was.”

Bakugou’s lip curled into a snarl, and Kirishima smiled sort of serenely at him, like getting all of this off his chest had brought him this great peace while simultaneously destroying Bakugou’s world. “You’re fucking crazy,” he hissed. “Do you hear yourself? A guy with a Quirk that can make you see things that aren’t really there let you see the world as it really was? What kind of fucking sense does that make?”

“He didn’t use his Quirk on me.” Kirishima said it with such certainty that if Bakugou was of any weaker mind, he might have believed him.

But he was smart, and he was pissed, and he had no interest being a part of this conversation anymore. “Fuck you. I don’t want to listen to your pitch about your damn cult.”

“It’s not a cult!” Kirishima yelled, his hand closing around Bakugou’s wrist as he started to walk away. He spun him around and slammed him into the wooden beam as easily as if he weighed nothing, pressing into him so closely that Bakugou could feel his breath ghost over his neck. “Maybe when Marcus was in charge, and maybe when his successor was in charge, but I’m redefining what we are. We don’t commit petty crimes for the sake of terrorizing people like Marcus did; it’s about sending a message. And changing the world."

Bakugou sucked in a breath, trying to ignore the fact that they were so close together. He turned his head, forced himself to focus on the sound of the rain and the waves, anything but the feel of Kirishima’s body on him and how fucking amazing it was. “What kind of message are you trying to send? That you’re a murderer now? That you take innocent lives just because someone gets in your way?”

“I already told you that man wasn’t innocent.” Kirishima’s fingers closed around Bakugou’s chin almost painfully, forcing him to look back at him, and he frowned. “They have you brainwashed. They keep telling you that the villains you need to be chasing are the ones with the questionable Quirks that live on the outskirts of society and do what they can to survive, but they’re wrong. The real villains are sitting in their cubicles working 9-5 jobs and going home to their families, hiding behind a mask so that no one can see who they truly are. And they get away with it too. Because they’re rich. Because they have friends in all the right places. Because they can blend in so easily that no one even bothers to question what they do in their spare time.”

Bakugou’s breath caught in his throat. He let out a little gasping sound, and Kirishima released him, letting his fingers gently brush over Bakugou’s jaw. It felt like his skin was scorching wherever Kirishima touched. Everything inside of him was breathing and alive, screaming with so much pent-up energy he could barely contain it. There were so many thoughts and emotions racing through him at that moment that he couldn’t find one to grasp on to. Kirishima’s red eyes tore into him, waiting, expectant, his lips curled up into the gentlest of smiles.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bakugou said, the words coming out in one hurried breath. “You’re just spouting a bunch of indoctrinated bullshit –”

“Don’t you think we’re both a little indoctrinated?” Kirishima asked. “The Hero Commission defines what a villain is and what you’re supposed to do to detain them, but what about the people they sit next to in the office? The ones who go home and abuse their families, who throw their kids out on the street because they don’t really like the Quirk they manifested. A lot of the people who become villains were marked that way from birth. They didn’t have a choice. Society didn’t give them one.”

“Yeah, but no one did that to you, so –”

“I made a mistake walking out on you that day, Bakugou, and there’s probably not anything I can ever do to make it up to you, and I’m sorry. But I…couldn’t take it anymore! It got to me. You have no idea the sort of things they were saying to me, the way they made me feel. Like I was worthless if I didn’t do everything they told me to do.” He was crying again, Bakugou realized, but it was worse this time. His shoulders were shaking with sobs he was barely able to contain as silent tears trailed down his skin. “When I left, I knew that I couldn’t go back to working with them, and I knew that you were happy. You had everything that you ever wanted. I couldn’t fuck that up for you. I just felt like I was spiraling, and then everything just…just snapped. I didn’t feel like myself anymore.”

They were both silent for a moment. Kirishima had never spoken to him about how he was feeling, about whatever secret meetings he had had with the Commission when he had come home late in a terrible mood and acting so unlike himself that Bakugou barely recognized him sometimes. It wasn’t as if it was like that all the time, though. Kirishima was good at staying positive, for the most part, pretending that everything was normal, until it caught up to him and he just shattered.

But he’d never said a word, never complained. And then he just left.

“Do you feel like yourself now?” Bakugou asked.

Kirishima shook his head. “I don’t know who I am anymore. Not a hero, not really a villain…”

Bakugou worried his lip between his teeth, unable to hold eye contact with Kirishima any longer. The conversation had taken a wide turn that he had not expected. There were still things left unsaid, so many questions that were still unanswered. “Why did you kill that man?”

Kirishima sucked in a breath, taking a step back from Bakugou and leaving him feeling sort of cold and empty. “I didn’t mean to. I mean, I didn’t go there to do it. We were just going to…scare him. That’s all.”

“Why?”

“He’s Ryuka’s – Gorgon’s – uncle. When she was a kid, he was giving her money and presents and all sorts of stuff in exchange for…well, you know.”

Bakugou wrinkled his nose. His heart pounded so quickly that it felt like it was bruising his ribs. “Sick fuck.”

“Yeah. She didn’t know any better. Fucking disgusting how people use their authority to take advantage of people below them.”

“Yeah.” Bakugou could barely breathe. He was starting to see now, starting to understand the angle that Kirishima was coming from, even though he was sure there were better ways to go about it. That’s what heroes were for, right? That’s what he had wanted to be, like All Might, helping those in need. Even if those needs were hidden behind closed doors.

But if these things were hidden, there were obviously people doing their best to keep it that way.

“Turns out when her parents found out, her mom sent her off to boarding school and blamed the whole thing on her. She didn’t think a dignified banker would stoop to that level without someone tempting him.” Kirishima let out a disgusted sound. Lightning flashed behind him. “We were just going to scare him, but Ryuka found pictures that were still on his computer from years back. Like when she was seven or eight. And he was sending them to people. I don’t know what happened. I just blacked out. We fought, and then…he was dead.”

Bakugou let out a breath. The word that fell from his mouth came before he even knew he was saying it. “Good.”

Good? Good? Was it actually? He had always talked a lot of shit, always threatened to kill people in fights even if they had never actually done him any wrong. But he knew that that wasn’t okay. He had followed through with his hero training. He knew to bring them all in alive and let the law handle them. But now…well, no one had ever really talked to him about the man behind the computer who could help him get a loan. No one ever mentioned the men in suits who hid behind flattering words and charming smiles, the ones at the top of the chain of command who could snap their fingers and have everything done as they pleased.

People like the Commission.

But he couldn’t think like that. The sheer terror of his thoughts flying off the rails and spinning out of control froze him to the core. Because if he agreed with Kirishima, if he understood where he was coming from, did that actually mean that maybe he wasn’t as much of a hero as he thought he was?

“You didn’t have to leave,” he said. “We could have worked things out. We could have –”

“No, we couldn’t have.” Kirishima closed the gap between them again, his hands tightening on either side of Bakugou’s coat. “Hero society isn’t what it was when we were kids. You remember how we used to stay up late at night just so we could watch reruns of our favorite heroes saving the city? It doesn’t feel like that anymore. They used to show us heroes beating up bad guys and throwing them in jail, but we never really stopped to think about what some of them had even done in the first place. Do you know what defines me as a villain to them?”

Bakugou didn’t answer. He had never heard Kirishima talk like this before. It was deeply troubling, and he didn’t think it was anything that he would ever get used to. What was most troubling, however, was how much sense he was making. He could see, even without Kirishima sharing all the details with him, that he had clearly been suffering, that he had needed some sort of escape, and if he didn’t leave on his own terms, then there would be no escape at all. He could see that he never returned because he didn’t want to drag anyone else down. Everything he was doing now was executed just as he had planned – as a blow to the Commission.

But he knew, even without Kirishima having to explain, that the Commission had a tighter hold on society than what it appeared. And he also knew that villains always lost in the end. So whatever Kirishima was trying to do – redefining hero society and exposing it for what it truly was or whatever – was an uphill climb that would ultimately lead to his defeat.

“I’m going after people whose crimes they’ve gone out of their way to try to hide,” Kirishima said, pushing in even closer, pressing Bakugou’s body against the wooden beam. “And I’m forcing them to answer for what they've done.”

Bakugou hesitated for a moment. God, all of his friends would lose their shit if they knew that Kirishima was getting to him. He didn’t even understand how he was getting to him. Things should have been simple and clear cut, just as they had been when they were at U.A. and someone was telling them what right and wrong was. But the world was infinitely more complicated than that. Shades of gray, as Kirishima had said.

“And this all started because they told you that you couldn’t kiss me in public?” Bakugou asked.

Kirishima laughed, the first time that he had actually sounded happy to be there all night, and the sound was so overwhelmingly warm and so very much Kirishima that Bakugou couldn’t help the heat that flooded inside of him and unfurled in his veins, traveling through his body at rocket speed. God, it was like nothing had changed for just a second, as if they were stuck in a bubble, in a time loop, with nothing but each other for company. It felt nice, not having to answer to the world’s expectations of them.

“Yeah, I guess that was the first step,” Kirishima said. “It just kept getting worse from there.”

Bakugou frowned, looking up to meet Kirishima’s eyes again. He didn’t look so tired anymore. His eyes were bright and joyous and innocent, just as they used to be at U.A. Before everything sort of started spiraling. He cleared his throat, looking down at the sand. “I can’t forgive you, you know. You fucked up a lot of things. You ruined my life. You left your moms –”

“I know. I’m going to see them soon, I swear. Just not right now. I think that’s what’s best.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “And you know I can’t just let you off the hook for all the shit you’ve done. If you cross me, I’m gonna have to fight you.”

Kirishima chuckled, brushing a strand of blonde hair away from Bakugou’s face. “Of course. I would be disappointed if you didn’t. What kind of hero lets a villain get away like that?”

“I did not let you get away! Damn it, fuck you. I’m done here. I don’t want to see you ever again.” He pushed Kirishima’s hand away from his face, but Kirishima caught him, intertwining their fingers together as he drew in closer, and Bakugou felt completely fucking stupid and drunk like a damn teenager feeling the intimate touch of another person for the first time.

This was bullshit. Every single bit of it. He shouldn't have ever let Kirishima get this close to him. Everything was supposed to be straightforward. He was supposed to be a pro hero, damn it, and pro heroes shouldn't be having secret meetings with villains that didn't end in kicking said villain’s ass. He shouldn't even be standing here listening to all this.

"You're a wanted criminal," Bakugou said, stating the obvious.

"Yeah. I know."

"You should be in jail. You can't just --" God, he wanted to scream. What the fuck was Kirishima thinking, taking the law into his own hands like that? The problem here wasn’t that he was bypassing law enforcement, not really. No, the problem was that he was going after law enforcement and upstanding members of society with no criminal records. People who had far more power and reach than he could ever have.

This fight wasn't noble. It wasn't brave. It was...stupid. God, he wanted to yell at him, to beat some fucking sense into his brain. He could have stayed. He could have talked to someone, expressed his concerns. They could have had a straightforward, uncomplicated life. But no, he had to leave his hero work to become a villain.

Villain? Vigilante? He didn't really think either was a correct term for whatever Kirishima was now.

"If I should be in jail," Kirishima said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "then take me to jail."

They stared at each other. Bakugou felt his breath catch. The sound of his racing heart drowned out the fat drops of rain thudding down above them. Kirishima was so fucking close to him he could barely think. Everything was going completely haywire in his brain, like a dense fog rolling in and obscuring all his thoughts. He felt Kirishima’s thumb brush over his palm, gentle and feathery, and involuntarily, his eyes drifted down Kirishima’s face and fell on his lips. He gulped, but it felt like there was a knot lodged there that he couldn't swallow.

He forced air out of his nose, narrowed his eyes, hoped that he looked at least a little bit intimidating. "You piss me the hell off," he said. "I don't ever know what I'm supposed to fucking do with you."

Kirishima raised an eyebrow, lifting Bakugou’s hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. Fire. Everything was on fire. He was going to burn for this. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Bakugou said, grabbing Kirishima’s jacket and jerking him even closer, their noses touching, their breaths swirling together. If he listened hard enough, he thought maybe he could hear both of their heartbeats. "Sometimes I want to beat the shit out of you, and sometimes I want you to fuck me until I can't fucking walk."

"Yeah?" He felt more than saw the smile on Kirishima’s lips, could feel the subtle curl of his mouth as he leaned in, brushing over Bakugou’s cheek. "And which one do you want right now?"

Bakugou closed his eyes, relaxing into the feel of Kirishima’s body against him, his arms curled around Bakugou’s waist, his knee pressed into Bakugou’s thigh and keeping him in place. He knew in the back of his mind that this was wrong, that he shouldn't be here, that he shouldn't be having these sort of feelings for someone who had hurt him so badly, but he couldn't stop himself even if he tried. He was on a ride spinning out of control, rocketing straight toward his demise.

And right now, he was more than willing to crash and burn.

He closed the gap between them, his lips meeting Kirishima’s with such force that it nearly knocked them both off their feet. He felt Kirishima’s grip tighten on his hip, his brain going completely blank as he wrapped his arms around Kirishima’s neck and dragged him closer, closer until he couldn't even tell what belonged to who, and he couldn't breathe, but it was the good sort of not breathing. Kirishima was warm, and his lips were soft, and he kissed him like they had never missed a beat, like they had been doing this all along.

"Oh my god," Kirishima groaned, breaking for just a second to suck in air. His lips still rested against Bakugou’s as they breathed in sync with one another. "Oh god, I missed you --"

Bakugou slammed his lips into Kirishima’s again, drunk on the taste of him, like cinnamon and some other spice he couldn't quite put a name to. It wasn't enough. He couldn't get enough of Kirishima. His tongue pressed against Kirishima’s mouth, parting his lips easily as he slid into him, devouring whatever part of him he could reach. He felt that little metal piercing, let his tongue linger there for a long time as he felt it roll around against him. He completely blacked out. It was like stars were dancing behind his eyelids and alarms were blaring in his mind, pounding into his skull. He moaned, the sound getting lost in Kirishima’s mouth, and then Kirishima’s mouth was gone, pressing hot, wet kisses over his jaw and along his neck. He felt hot everywhere as sweat dripped down his face. He was going to explode.

"Fuck," he hissed, as Kirishima’s lips closed around the skin right above his collarbone. His scarf had been discarded somewhere, but he had barely noticed and did not care. His coat had been unbuttoned at some point, and Kirishima's hands pushed underneath his shirt, fingers roaming over his stomach and hips as his teeth sank into Bakugou’s skin, and he cried out, tilting his head back to give Kirishima better access.

There was some voice in the back of his mind screaming what the fuck are you doing? over and over again, but he could not be bothered to listen. Whatever sense or rationality he had was drowned out by the feel of Kirishima’s mouth on him, and he was aching. Aching for more, more, more, and it wasn't coming fast enough.

He didn't need this, obviously. He had been fine for so long without it. But god it felt good when he had it.

"Tell me -- ahh -- what you're trying to accomplish," Bakugou said through gasping breaths as Kirishima’s hands traveled down to his ass.

"I -- want them -- to treat us -- like humans-- and not like pets," Kirishima replied, each word punctuated with a forceful kiss along Bakugou’s jaw and neck. "And until that happens -- I can't come back."

"I could have helped you," Bakugou said. "You didn't give me a chance."

"If you came with me or helped me with any of this, your pro hero career would be over." Kirishima tilted Bakugou’s chin so that he could capture his lips in a brief kiss. "And why would I want to rob the bravest, manliest hero I've ever known of the life he'd always dreamed of having?"

Bakugou turned his head away as Kirishima tried to kiss him again. There was a dull throbbing behind his eyes, the telltale sign of tears about to spring up. He wrapped his arms tighter around Kirishima’s neck, his nails sinking into his skin. "That's not an excuse for why you left," he said. "You don't get to decide what I want to do. And did you really think that I wanted a life without you?"

Kirishima blinked stupidly at him, like he didn't exactly understand what he was trying to say. He took a step away from him, giving him space to breathe, to try to calm the headache forming in his temple. Thunder rumbled angrily, followed quickly by a flash of lightning. The rain fell harder.

"I didn't think of it that way," he responded. "Bakugou, I'm...I don't know what to say."

Bakugou snorted and rolled his eyes. "Well, getting your ass back over here and making out with me is a start. But…" He grabbed Kirishima’s jacket, tugging him close and kissing him. "I still fucking hate you. I hate you so damn much."

Kirishima nodded, smiling, though it did not reach his eyes. "I can accept that."

He wasn't sure how they got there, but several minutes later his coat was on the ground, and he was pinned against the pillar again, his legs wrapped around Kirishima’s waist as Kirishima kissed him over and over and over again, barely leaving room to stop and breathe. His lips were swollen and cracked from the sharp teeth tearing into them, and that voice inside his head was screaming louder now, growing more desperate.

What the fuck are you doing? Your career is on the line. If anyone finds out about this, it's over. You're done. You will never, ever, ever be a pro hero again.

It got hard not to listen. "We should -- we should not be doing this," he panted, barely able to get his words out between kisses.

It took Kirishima several seconds to respond. "When have you ever cared what you should and shouldn't be doing?" He kissed him again, teeth grazing over his bottom lip, and Bakugou heard this low, rumbling sort of growl as Kirishima rolled his hips against him. Since your pro hero career is on the line! the voice in his head shouted, and it sounded weirdly like All Might, but it was completely drowned out by the hot sensation of excitement that swelled in his belly.

"We don't have to do this, you know," Kirishima said. "If you're uncomfortable. I never want you to be uncomfortable. It's just--well, don't think about it as what you should or shouldn't be doing, and think of it as, what do you want to be doing?"

Bakugou met his gaze and held it for a long moment. He hadn't asked himself what he wanted to be doing for a long time; he had always just gone where they needed him, done what needed to be done. And now…

He slid his legs from around Kirishima’s waist and fell to his knees in the soft sand, his hands immediately going to Kirishima’s belt and working to unbuckle it. "I want," he said, finally getting the clasp undone, "to have your dick in my mouth."

He heard a sharp intake of breath above him, and he looked up, searching for some sort of sign that this was not okay as he unbuttoned his jeans, but Kirishima didn't stop him, though his eyes were wide and he was trembling like a virgin that had never been touched before. He looked just like he used to, all wide-eyed and innocent. Not at all the monster that Bakugou had been fighting the past couple of weeks.

"Bakugou…"

"Do you want me to stop?" Bakugou asked, his fingers on the zipper, his lips brushing over Kirishima’s bare abdomen, just above the waistband of his jeans.

There was a slight hesitation before Kirishima said, "No. No, keep going."

Bakugou obeyed, unzipping his pants and pushing them down to his thighs. He stared at the large bulge in front of his face, hidden only by the thin layer of his underwear, and his own dick pulsed with arousal. He let out a breath, pushing the heel of his hand against his erection and groaning a little. He was almost completely hard. God, it had been so long since he’d done anything remotely sexual. He was out of practice, and his body was aching for it, more than it ever had before. Kirishima probably wouldn’t even have to touch him. He could probably get off just like this.

“Hey,” Kirishima whispered, his voice so gentle it was nearly drowned out by the rain. He tilted Bakugou’s head so he had to look up and meet his eyes, pupils blown wide and cheeks already flushed a beautiful, rosy pink. “You look so beautiful. Down on your knees like this for me.” His thumb brushed the sensitive skin underneath Bakugou’s eye, where there was still a slight bruise blooming yellow and green. “You look beautiful all the time, obviously, but – oh.”

Bakugou’s hand closed over his dick, rubbing over it through his underwear as his tongue circled over the taut muscles of Kirishima’s hip. Kirishima bucked against him, hitting Bakugou’s cheek, and it reminded him of the first time they hooked up like this, neither of them quite knowing what they were doing, only knowing they wanted each other. Kirishima ran his thumb over Bakugou’s bottom lip, working his jaw open a bit, and instinctively, Bakugou sucked it into his mouth, swirling his tongue over it as Kirishima trembled, both of them acting as if they'd never fucked before. It was completely fucking insane how everything that Kirishima did was turning him on, even the slightest brush of his hand over his cheek. Everything was so sensitive. He wasn't sure how he was going to make it through this.

"Why did you go to Mina's that night?" he asked, tilting his head to the side as he dipped his finger under the waistband of Kirishima’s underwear, dragging them down low enough to let his erection spring free. He was fully hard, which had always been pretty fucking intimidating to an amateur teenage Bakugou who was terrified of not satisfying his big, beefy boyfriend who seemed like a fucking natural at all this stuff. It was intimidating even now, just the sheer girth of it, heavy and wide like the rest of Kirishima’s body, and thick in Bakugou's hand. He held it, sliding his thumb over the slit where precome had accumulated, and smeared it over the head.

Kirishima didn't exactly gasp. It was just a sort of raspy, nervous sound, and Bakugou swore that they were sixteen again and trying to figure each other out. He watched Kirishima’s face carefully, his red eyes a little hazy and unfocused as he stared down at Bakugou, his hands cupping either side of Bakugou’s face. His lower lip trembled. "She wasn't supposed to tell you about that."

Bakugou raised an eyebrow, nuzzling his face into the thick, dark curls that framed the massive cock before him. He ran his thumb over the thick vein on the underside of it and mouthed at his balls, poking experimentally with his tongue. Kirishima’s legs nearly buckled, and his fingers closed tighter around Bakugou’s face. "When have you ever known Mina to keep a secret?"

Kirishima didn't speak for a long time, which was just as well, because Bakugou wasn't entirely paying attention. He curled one arm around Kirishima’s thick thigh to stabilize himself and allowed his fingers to trail over his hard, muscular skin all the way up to the space right behind his balls, where he rubbed teasing circles that made Kirishima twitch underneath his touch. He could feel the tremor of his leg muscles, the restraint that he was forcing on himself as his hands moved to Bakugou’s sweaty hair, his fingers grazing gently over his scalp. "When did you find out?" he finally asked.

Bakugou shrugged. "Few days ago. She did good not to say anything for a long time."

He licked his lips, then sucked the head of Kirishima’s cock into his mouth, savoring the strong, salty taste that lingered on his tongue. Distantly, he could feel the war waging in his mind, the knowledge that everything was fucked from here on out, but the future seemed so far away, so untouchable that he couldn't stand to think of it, didn't care about any consequences.

"Go slow," Kirishima said sweetly, fingers carding through Bakugou’s hair. "Remember to breathe."

Bakugou popped off of him with an incredibly erotic, wet sound and glared at him. "I know how to suck dick, Eijirou."

"I know. You're just really intense -- Jesus fuck. Oh my god."

Bakugou swallowed him down in one quick slide, and though it made his jaw hurt and his vision go sort of black for a second, it was well worth it to see Kirishima coming undone and trembling against him. He looked up at him, met his pretty red eyes, saw how completely glazed over they were, and he smirked around the fat cock buried deep in his mouth, grazing the back of his throat. Nice to know he hadn't totally lost his touch.

He pulled back a bit, wrapping one hand around the base as he allowed his tongue to drag along the underside and his teeth to scrape on top. He heard a tiny whine fall from Kirishima's lips that was quite possibly one of the most amazing sounds he had ever heard, and it sent a shock of electricity jolting down his spine. His own dick throbbed in response, and he pressed at it gently, sighing in relief.

"I didn't do it to hurt you, you know," Kirishima said, tightening his grip in Bakugou's hair as he descended down his length again. "There was someone after me, but I got away. I didn't know if there were more. I just needed a place to hide."

That raised a thousand more questions that Bakugou did not feel like asking. He forced a breath out of his nostrils, and the tight pain in his chest released its hold on him briefly. He had to be responsible, he reminded himself, and not as intense as he used to be. The last thing he needed right now was to be sent to the hospital for choking on dick.

He felt Kirishima’s thumb brush underneath his eye, sending a dull ache through him where his bruises were, and he realized then that his skin was wet with tears that had spilled over. He hoped it was just from being stuffed full and not from actual emotions. He didn't have enough energy to be sad anymore. So he put all his energy into this, not daring to look up and meet Kirishima’s gaze, though he could feel his eyes on him.

He hollowed his cheeks, opening his mouth wider to allow more room for Kirishima to slide in. He felt the bump against the back of his throat, and he made a sort of choking sound as more tears sprang free. Kirishima had always been hard to take, but he'd never denied the challenge of it, and he certainly wasn't going to start now, not when he had already completely crossed the line.

His eyes fluttered halfway shut as he sank down on him further, taking him all the way in. He felt his cock twitch against his tongue as it dipped deeper down his throat, coating him with the salty sweet taste of precome and making the slide so much easier. It wouldn't be long now, he knew. He could tell by the pulsing against his tongue.

"Are you okay?" Kirishima asked, his voice far too gentle, far too kind.

Something inside of Bakugou flared to life, something that made him feel sort of insane and maybe just as evil as everyone thought he was. He grunted, teeth and tongue working vigorously as he picked up his pace, ignoring the obvious worry in Kirishima's eyes. He couldn't handle it. If one more fucking person asked him if he was okay, he was going to incinerate this whole damn beach without batting an eye. He especially didn't want Kirishima’s concern.

"Hey, slow down," Kirishima whispered, his fingers curling against Bakugou’s scalp, trying to deter him, to make him pull off a bit, but Bakugou slapped him away, swallowing around the thick weight that must have been buried halfway down his throat. "Baby, you're gonna --"

The thin tether keeping him grounded to reality snapped. His vision blared red with rage.

"Do not --" Bakugou hissed as he pulled off. He rose to his feet, shoving Kirishima away from him hard enough to make him stumble. "Call me that. You have no fucking right calling me pet names or acting like nothing fucking happened between us. You left, and now you're fucking my life up even more. Don't think you can just show up and give me your sad, pathetic little origin story and make me feel sorry for you because I do not feel even slightly sympathetic toward anything you've said to me. I don't give a shit. Nothing you've said to me makes any damn difference. So you can take whatever leftover feelings you have for me and shove them right up your ass because I do not --"

"I'm leaving, okay?" Kirishima held his hands up in surrender, backing slowly away as he gathered himself and whatever clothes got discarded. "I'm sorry. You're right. This was a mistake. I…" His voice wavered. Bakugou couldn't really tell because he was shrouded by shadows, but he thought maybe there were tears in Kirishima's eyes. "If you want to be enemies now, then that's what we'll be. If that's what it takes for me to see you."

Bakugou’s heart was beating faster than it ever had before. The sound of it was so loud it overpowered all of the foul, disgusting things he had to say, and he was left standing there looking like an idiot, completely speechless. He wiped at his mouth, glaring, and clenched his fist so tightly his nails dug into skin, drawing a tiny bit of blood. "I'm going to kill you," he growled. His body was shaking. He felt absolutely feral, out of control. "I don't care if that's not what heroes do, I'm going to fucking kill you, and I'll--"

"Goodnight, Bakugou," Kirishima said calmly, waving a little to him as he dissolved into the shadows and the rain. "Sleep well. If you see my moms before I do, tell them we'll talk soon."

And then he was gone.

Bakugou had half a mind to chase him, but when he took a step forward, he felt lost, frozen, like he had been transported to some unfamiliar terrain and had nowhere to go.

He sat in the sand for a long time, staring into nothingness, listening to the waves and the rain and the thunder. Everyone with a brain had already gone home.

When he finally pulled out his phone, it was well past midnight. He scrolled through his contacts, watching as pictures of his friends glided by, then pressed the one that he was looking for. His hand shook as he held it to his ear, listening to each ring and growing more and more furious by the second.

He picked up after the fifth ring. "Bakugou?" Takahashi said, his voice groggy with sleep. "What are you calling me about so late in the night? Did something happen?"

"Put me back on the Red Fury case," he said. "I'm ready."

Chapter Text

The knock at his door the next evening was unexpected but not entirely unwelcome, depending on who it was. He'd been staring at crime reports and data for the last three hours, and he had made no progress with anything. There were reports of hijackings, arson, and petty thefts that had been attributed to Kirishima’s little cult, but there were still no arrests being made.

He couldn't even find a connection between any of the victims of the attacks. They all lived in different parts of town, were in various economic classes, worked different jobs, lived completely different lives. Kirishima made it sound like he didn't attack at random, but the data told Bakugou a completely different story.

Maybe a fresh set of eyes could help. He wasn't perfect, after all.

He got up and went to the door, throwing it open to reveal Mina, Sero, Kaminari, and Shinsou standing in his hallway looking far too happy for their own good.

"We brought movies!" Mina exclaimed, holding up a DVD of Grease and Mamma Mia!.

"And I made matcha cookies!" Sero added, holding up a seran wrapped plate with leaf-shaped cookies piled high. "With a special ingredient." He winked.

"You know you have a drug test tomorrow, right?" Shinsou said, and Sero groaned, his shoulders drooping.

“Damn it.”

“What are you guys doing here?” Bakugou asked. He hadn’t responded to any of their texts since his fight with Kaminari a couple of days ago. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“We thought you were mad at us!” Kaminari exclaimed, punching him in the shoulder and immediately taking a step back to hide behind his boyfriend. “But we kind of missed you, you know? And we thought…well –”

“We just came to say we're really, really sorry, and if life is gonna suck, then we might as well fight it together, right?" Mina said with a shrug. “So can we come in?”

Bakugou looked over their faces carefully, studying their expressions: Mina smiling and hopping up and down, Sero looking like he was already fucking high with the lazy smile on his face, Kaminari beaming with joy with a case of beer in his hands, and Shinsou looking just as tired as always. He sighed, pushing the door open further, and Mina squealed with delight and rushed right in, flopping herself on the couch like she lived there.

“So which should we watch first?” she asked, as Shinsou made his way to the cat rolling around on the floor and looking for attention. Kaminari and Sero set their things on the kitchen counter and immediately cracked open the case of beer. “Or maybe we should find a Disney movie to watch instead? What are you in the mood for, Bakugou?”

“Oh. Well, I don’t really care.” Sero tossed him a can, and he cracked it open and took a swig. He was pretty sure it was the first bit of hydration he’d had all day, which was just sad.

He made his way to the kitchen as Mina deliberated out loud to herself what exactly they needed to do with their time together, and he opened the cabinets to look for some more food that he might offer them. It was rare that people came over, so he was never really prepared, but this was even worse. His cabinets were completely bare except for a bag of rice shoved to the back and some cans of wet food for Mango.

“Hey, man,” Kaminari said, his voice soft and a little too serious for Bakugou’s liking. He touched Bakugou’s shoulder, and Bakugou flinched, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. “Uh…so listen, I just wanted to say sorry for all the shit that went down between us. I’m sorry I said you were being selfish.”

Bakugou shrugged. “It’s fine. Call it like you see it, right?”

Kaminari rolled his eyes. “Look, maybe we’re all kind of struggling right now, and we just need to depend on each other a little bit more instead of pulling away. Right?”

He shrugged again. “Sure.”

“So are we friends again?” Kaminari asked, grinning as he stuck his hand out to Bakugou.

Bakugou hesitated, then took his hand. “We were never not friends.”

“Aww, it always makes me feel so good when you call me your friend!”

"Yeah, don't get used to it."

“I’m turning on The Aristocats!” Mina called from the couch. “And bring those cookies over here, I’m starving.”

Sero rushed over immediately, carrying the plate of cookies with a sort of manic look in his eye as he watched Mina delicately pluck one from the plate. She eyed him warily. “What?" he asked rather innocently. "Just because I can’t have any doesn’t mean I don’t want my friends to enjoy them.”

“You know,” Mina complained as she chomped away at her cookie, “I don’t even understand why the fuck we have to do these random drug tests. Like, who the fuck cares if we got a little cannabis in our system? We’re saving the damn world.”

“Picture of perfection,” Shinsou murmured, barely audible.

"Ugh. Fuck that," Kaminari said, slamming his empty beer can on the counter and grabbing another.

Bakugou sipped his tentatively. If he hurried, he thought he might be sick. He couldn't even remember eating anything that day. Every little thing he did was on autopilot, even fighting the three villains that were locked up today. He was always, always engaged in a fight, but today was different. Today, he didn't come alive until he dropped by the Commission offices and they handed him a big box of files to take home. A big box of files with seemingly no connections to anything. If Kirishima was so intent on getting a message across, he was being really damn sloppy about it.

"Hey, what is all of this?" Mina asked, picking up one of the files and waving it in Bakugou's direction. It had taken her far longer to ask about it than he thought.

"Red Fury stuff," he replied casually, and she immediately jumped up from the couch and ran to him, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.

"Are you serious? They let you back on the case?"

Everyone was staring at him, waiting for the answer that he had already given, and he could feel the concern in their gazes, the worry that he was getting too close, pushing himself too far. As far as he was concerned, however, he wasn't pushing himself nearly enough.

He snatched the file folder from her. "Yes, they did. And once I can figure out how to connect all of this and where they're hiding out now, then it's over."

Mina opened the file folder and pulled out a few pages, scanning over the words with a very serious expression as she made her way back to the couch. Kaminari and Shinsou made their way over there as well, grabbing at random files to look over. Bakugou wasn't totally sure if he was meant to be sharing this information with anyone, but at this point, he didn't care. He just wanted answers. And a solution. He wanted it to be over so that he could finally get some rest.

"Hmm," Mina said. "Yeah, you're right. All of this does look pretty random. I guess what we need to figure out first is how long Kirishima has been with them --"

"A little over a year. He's been in charge for two months." They looked up at him, dumbfounded, and he realized his mistake. "It's just a guess. I don't know for certain."

He settled on the floor since all of his friends had so kindly piled themselves on the couch and crowded each other, then grabbed a few files himself to look through. The ones he picked up were concerning the murder of the CEO at LavaTech, which he had suspected the Red Fury was behind even before he confirmed Kirishima was with them. There was nothing there that he hadn’t already read a hundred times, but he still hadn’t figured out the motivation behind it. LavaTech was about to release a ton of new support items for heroes that they had been advertising for months, and then when the CEO was murdered, the release was pushed back until further notice. His son had taken over, but the stocks were down, and the company was struggling to stay afloat.

“This name sounds familiar,” Mina said, tapping the photocopy of a newspaper she held in her hand. “Morishita Ichika. Aha! Exactly what I thought. She’s a neurologist.”

Bakugou looked up at her. He had looked through so many things ever since gaining access to these files. He couldn’t recall reading anything about a neurologist. But if there was something about a neurologist in there, then he knew exactly what Kirishima was doing with that. “What happened to her?”

“Office burned down.” Mina shoved another cookie in her mouth. “Police ruled it as arson but didn’t have any suspects until recently.” She looked at Bakugou, holding his gaze for a long moment. They didn’t need to say anything else, because they both understood.

Kaminari, however, did not. He leaned forward from where he was practically sitting in Shinsou’s lap, snatching the paper from Mina’s hands and reading over it, his face scrunched up in concentration. “I don’t get it. What’s this have to do with –”

“Morishita was seeing Kirishima’s mom,” Mina explained slowly.

“So why would –”

“Setsuko had some suspicions that there was medical malpractice going on,” Bakugou added. “But she couldn’t prove it. Morishita kept running tests and loading Tess up on drugs, but nothing was really helping. For whatever reason, she wasn’t giving Tess the treatment that she needed.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, though.” Shinsou took the paper from Kaminari’s hands. “Wouldn’t burning down the office get rid of any evidence that anything was going on? He would want to tell someone, right?”

Bakugou sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he continued to stare at the photo of the dead LavaTech CEO. There was something about him that was familiar too, though he couldn’t quite figure out what it was. “I think he tried to tell someone,” he said. “The Commission appointed Morishita to Tess. I remember now. They said that she was the best of the best, and Kirishima was so excited that they were giving her the care she needed. He was always so happy to take her to appointments.”

“So what?” Sero asked, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. “Did she get convicted of anything?”

Mina shuffled through the pages in her hands, slowly shaking her head. “Not that I can see, no. God, this is crazy. I wish we could see Kirishima again so we could get some answers from him.”

Bakugou averted his gaze, carefully raising the papers up to cover his face in case anything he was doing gave him away. He hadn’t slept after getting home last night, which made for a long shift today, and even in his down time, all he could think of was Kirishima, how he wanted to kiss him and kill him all at the same time and how fucking complicated all of it was and how he hated himself for not being strong enough to be the hero he’d always dreamed of being. He couldn’t imagine that All Might would have this issue, or Endeavor, or Deku. They would be able to do the right thing with no questions asked.

“Well,” Mina said, clapping her hands together and promptly grabbing a few more file folders. “We have a lot of stuff to go over. Guess we should get to work then.”

“Oh, come on!” Sero exclaimed. “This was supposed to be a hangout, not a late-night work –”

“It’s for our friend,” Mina said, shooting him a glare that silenced him immediately. “It’s not work if it means we can figure out what’s going on and bring him home.”

Bakugou kept his attention on the LavaTech files. Maybe they murdered the CEO specifically to delay the release of those support items. They were supposed to be basically indestructible, top of the line. It would mean a lot of tougher fights for villains if they were released. And it would make sense if a group of villains didn’t want heroes to have them.

Still, there was something gnawing at him, some piece of the puzzle that he was missing. He flipped through the pages, saw where a warrant had been put out for Lobo’s arrest for the crime, but he had not been captured yet. There was no mention of Kirishima at this point.

“Did you know that the man that was killed at the bank was a pedophile?” Bakugou said suddenly.

They all looked up at him, confused and maybe a little shocked, and his heart skipped a beat as Kaminari asked, “Who said that?”

Bakugou swallowed. His throat felt dry. He tried to keep eye contact with Kaminari, fearing that if he looked away it would give away his horrible little secret that none of them could find out. He felt, even now, that it was written all over him in blaring neon letters for everyone to see. Fear and disgust tasted bitter.

“It’s just…he had pictures –”

“Of children?” Sero asked, and Mina smacked him in the back of the head and rolled her eyes.

“That’s what a pedophile is, Sero.”

“Sorry!” He blinked rather stupidly, then grabbed a cookie, maybe out of sheer nervousness, but no one stopped him. “So how do you know about that? The Commission didn’t say anything about it.”

“Right. So don’t believe me. Whatever.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t believe you –”

“Maybe I have access to information they’re not sharing with anyone else.”

“Okay, but –”

“Doesn’t matter. He’s dead,” Shinsou said. “Nothing they can really do about it now, right?” He curled his arms around Kaminari’s waist, pulling him up to sit completely in his lap, then pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.

Bakugou stared, maybe a little too hard, then forced himself to look away. His cheeks felt a little warm to the touch. It used to be him and Kirishima curled up on the couch together, Kaminari telling them to get a room every time they so much as looked at each other. He used to tell them that he’d never seen two people look at each other like that before.

Mina tapped her chin as she studied over the papers spread out before her. She hummed along under her breath as the little white cat sang her song about scales and arpeggios. Mango curled at Shinsou’s feet, watching the television intently. She loved movies about cats. Except for the movie Cats.

“So we can definitely attribute this to Kirishima, right?” Mina said, handing Bakugou the page about Morishita. “I mean, it can’t be a coincidence. And the missing kid –”

“Taiyo.” He’d forgotten to ask about him. He’d gone in with a whole list of questions piling up in his mind, and then suddenly everything had just disappeared. He could have found out so much more if he wasn’t so weak to temptation.

“Right. I mean, that’s gotta be Kirishima.”

“So what are we trying to figure out here?” Kaminari asked. “I mean…we already know for a fact that he’s killed a guy, which is enough reason to go after him, right? So…”

“We have no idea where he’s at or what he’s planning to do next,” Bakugou told him. “He wants to cause a scene.”

“A riot, you mean?” Sero said, which made Mina groan and smack him again.

Bakugou ignored them as they started to argue, focusing instead on a different file folder. This one held information on some of the known members of the Red Fury, people who had been there longer than Kirishima that he had somehow bypassed to get to the top. Some people were not made to be leaders.

His head felt sort of fuzzy as he continued drinking his beer. He hadn’t had anything to eat all day, too caught up in his own thoughts and wrapping this shit up to stop and take care of himself. He felt like he was going out of his mind, on a downward spiral that he would never be able to get back up from. The longer he stared at the tiny words spilling across the pages, the more they started to look like a foreign language, something that he had never seen before. He didn’t even want to look at it anymore, but the more he ignored it, the farther ahead Kirishima would get, and he couldn’t let that happen.

He still felt like they could tell something was going on with him, even though no one mentioned it. He had never been very good at concealing things, especially when it came to his relationship with Kirishima. There was something about him – though he could never figure out what it was – that he kept right on the surface for the entire world to see. Hell, Kaminari had been able to tell there was something different as soon as they had come back from the cabin in the woods, and if Kaminari of all people could see things like that, then he was in trouble.

He didn’t think he had gotten any better at hiding things since leaving U.A. But still, no one said anything. Maybe they were too caught up in the files they weren’t supposed to see and the cute cat movie playing on the television. Sero might have been too stoned to care.

He finished his beer and grabbed for another one, his stomach churning angrily in response. His vision was starting to grow a little hazy, though he had never been much of a lightweight. Maybe because he hadn’t had anything to eat.

“If one of you ends up finding Kirishima before me,” he found himself asking, without even really thinking about what he was asking to begin with, “then what are you going to do?”

Mina glanced up at him, wrinkled her nose. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you gonna arrest him?”

Silence. Their stares told him everything that he needed to know before any of them even spoke.

“Well, yeah,” Sero said. “I mean, that’s what we’re supposed to do, right? It’s what’s best?”

Bakugou sighed, rubbing at the side of his head. He couldn’t imagine Kirishima being behind bars like all of these other criminals he’d handled, people who had gone out of their way to terrorize the public in any way they could. It wasn’t the same, he thought, not in the slightest, but it was still wrong what he was doing. Or, at least, that’s what he kept telling himself. The more he repeated it in his head, the more it started to stick. Maybe one day, he’d be able to shake Kirishima from his mind completely. Then he could actually do his damn job.

He looked over at Kaminari and Shinsou, watched as Shinsou’s arms curled around Kaminari’s waist, drawing him close to his chest, how Kaminari’s fingers skimmed over Shinsou’s hands resting flat on his stomach, how Shinsou nuzzled against his shoulder, pressing feather-light kisses against his skin like he just couldn’t fucking handle not touching him for one damn second.

“Can you not?” he said.

Kaminari tilted his head to the side, looking like a puppy that had been scolded. “Not what?” His fingers intertwined with Shinsou’s as he settled himself more comfortably in his lap and leaned his head against him, totally and completely oblivious.

“Not touch each other like that,” Bakugou growled. “No one wants to see you fucking groping each other –”

“They purposely put me and Shinsou on different schedules and we don’t get to see each other a lot,” Kaminari said with a frown that seemed to make his entire body sag. “You know exactly what I’m going through because you went through it too." His voice had sort of a sharp edge to it, a flash of electricity that stunned Bakugou too much for him to speak.

“Denki,” Shinsou whispered, tugging him back down to sit on his lap. He rubbed soothing circles into his shoulder and brushed blonde hair away from his eyes.

“Maybe we’re all just a little bit stressed out,” Sero said. “Here, Kaminari, have a cookie –”

“I don’t want a cookie! I want…” He sighed, burying his face in his hands. “I want everything to make sense again. I want Kirishima back, and I just…” He scrubbed at his face with the back of his hand and let out a heavy, weary breath. “I wanna stop feeling so shitty all the time.”

They were all silent for a very long time, nothing but the sound of an animated cat movie echoing through the room. Bakugou was pretty sure no one was even moving or breathing.

Shinsou broke first, bringing his can of beer to his lips and gulping it deeply. “Great hangout, guys. This has been really fun.”

Mina sucked in a slow, calming breath, then blew it out and forced a smile. She looked like she was barely holding it together. “How about we put all of this away for now and get back to the movie –”

“What did they say to you?” Bakugou asked. His heart was beating unsteadily, but the rage had melted away. His eyes locked with Kaminari’s, holding for a long moment before his friend spoke. It seemed like he didn’t really want to respond.

“Who? The Commission?” Kaminari shrugged, curling himself into Shinsou’s lap like he was a housecat. “Nothing, they just don’t want anyone to know that Shinsou and I are dating. They’ve spun a few stories about me and Jirou, but they haven’t really caught on. I’m not sure why it matters because it’s not like we’re in the top ten, so no one’s really paying attention to us.” He shrugged again, and it seemed like his whole body sort of deflated. “I guess we’ve got time to figure it out, right?”

Silence fell upon them again. Mango meowed and leaped up onto the coffee table to clean herself. Sero grabbed another cookie and nibbled on it like a squirrel.

“I’m sorry,” Bakugou said, looking down at the floor, unable to meet Kaminari’s eyes as he said it. “They never said much to me because I would just yell at them, but they really got to Kirishima. Sometimes…” He let out a breath, remembering the way Kirishima had teetered on the edge of the railing, how icy terror had flooded Bakugou’s veins as he rushed to grab him. He wondered if Kirishima ever said anything to anyone about that evening, if he even remembered it happening. They never spoke about it again. “Sometimes he couldn't handle it.”

“Yeah, not all of us are assholes like you,” Kaminari said, and when Shinsou pinched his elbow, he sighed and added, “I’m sorry too. I really miss him.”

Bakugou curled his legs close to him and rested his head on his knees. Their group hangouts just didn’t feel right anymore. Mina had been right; Bakugou might have been their leader, but Kirishima was the one holding it all together. They were falling apart without him.

“Do you think they’ll start trying to force Quirk marriages?” Sero asked. “I know it wasn’t really commonplace twenty years ago, but if they’re actually scared and they wanna try to control what Quirks are produced…”

Kaminari pulled at the string on his jacket, twirling it around his finger. “This is really depressing.”

They didn’t say anything as Thomas O’Malley stalked across the screen, and Mango watched with wide eyes, her head moving just slightly with the animated cat’s movements.

Then Mina gasped, and the sound tore through the air like thunder, stirring them all awake. She jumped to her feet, pointing at Bakugou, her eyes wide. “Katsuki Bakugou!” And then he definitely knew that there was something going on because she never ever used his full name.

“Wh –” he started, but she didn’t let him stop. Her voice rose nearly an octave. “Is that a hickey on your neck?”

He flinched, hurrying to move his shirt to cover the telltale sign of the crimes he had committed last night, but it was too late now, because Mina was on him in an instant, hurling herself into his arms and prodding at his skin where Kirishima’s mouth had been less than twenty-four hours before.

“Jesus Christ, Ashido, do you not care about personal space?” he grumbled, grabbing her wrist and trying to wrench her away, but, drama queen and romance fan that she was, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep her away. She slapped his hand as her finger grazed over the bright red spot on his skin, and she let out a high-pitched squeal.

“What the hell were you doing last night?” she asked, poking him on the nose. “Who’s been sucking on your neck, huh?”

“That is a bruise,” he said, and he could have kicked himself for how stupid he sounded because of course that wasn’t believable. God, he was stupid. He saw it this morning when he woke up, and he knew he should have covered it up, but he didn’t. And now he was stuck. Because if they couldn’t see it before, they could see it now. He was basically a walking billboard of shame and disappointment.

Mina blinked at him, leaning in to get a closer look, and she wrinkled her nose and slapped him on the arm. “There are teeth marks!”

“I was attacked by an animal –”

“Oh my god, Bakugou! It’s a hickey! You have a fucking hickey on your neck!”

“Ooh! Lemme see!” Kaminari exclaimed, and suddenly he was being crowded by a bunch of people who had no idea how to keep their hands to themselves, and he felt like he was a specimen under a microscope being studied by a bunch of scientists. Idiotic scientists, really. He hated the whole lot of them, which is exactly why he had never wanted to be friends with them in the first place. If he really thought about it, this was all Kirishima’s fault, every last bit of it. If he could just rewind time and not let that little asshole wiggle his way into his life, then he wouldn’t be stuck here trying to explain why he’d let a wanted criminal suck on his neck.

“There are two possible explanations for this,” Mina said, rising to her feet as she paced the floor, taking on the air of some sort of teacher. “Number one – and I just don’t think this one is likely at all – you had a drunken one night stand, and you’re really embarrassed about it. But that’s not the Katsuki we know, is it? He hates everyone and everything, even when drunk. So that brings me to number two!” She spun on her heel, shoving two fingers into Bakugou’s face. “It was Kirishima, and you feel guilty about it, so you’re doing overtime working on this Red Fury case. So which is it, babe?”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, scoffing. He tried to look as casual as he possibly could, but he knew they could see it. They could tell. They had always been able to tell when he and Kirishima were up to no good. It was like they could smell it on him, which was pretty disturbing to think about. “You’re stoned, Mina. Get the fuck out of here.”

“Am not! Doesn’t work that fast. And besides, Shinsou, you see it too, right?”

Shinsou nodded, though he looked much more reluctant to get in on this than Mina was.

“Aha!” Mina jabbed a finger in Bakugou’s face. “Don’t try to gaslight me, Katsuki, because it’s not gonna work. You’re acting funny, and besides, you’re pinker than I am right now! You can’t keep a secret from me, especially something like this.” She fell to her knees again so that they were at eye level with each other, and she grinned. “So did you guys make out? Did you fu –”

“No! God, Mina.” He looked around at his other friends, not really sure what he expected of them, but a little bit of support would have been nice. Shinsou could have at least been nice since he was the newest member of this group, but he had already betrayed Bakugou by agreeing with Ashido, so Bakugou would have to crush him later.

“Someone’s getting his license suspended,” Kaminari said in a sing-song voice, and Sero snorted like it was just the best fucking joke in the world.

Bakugou gritted his teeth and ran a hand over his face. He was sweating, he realized, and he never did that when he was nervous. But all those scrutinizing eyes and those stupid smiles really got to him. If he didn’t know any better, he thought they might actually support this, which was stupid because how could anyone be okay with this?

“Look,” he said, looking at each of them individually. Kaminari was practically vibrating out of his own skin with excitement. “I apparently can’t lie to you, so I’ll tell you the truth.” He sucked in a breath, and all of them leaned in closer, like he was about to give them some sort of divine secret of the universe. He flipped them off. “It’s none of your fucking business.”

“Oh, come on, Bakubro!” Kaminari exclaimed. “We’re not judging! We’re your best friends. If you've been seeing Kirishima, it's totally cool. Just don't lie about it, ya know? And maybe don't keep him all to yourself.”

“There’s nothing to keep because nothing happened.” He yawned very loudly and stretched his arms above his head. “Wow, getting late isn’t it? And Sero, you have that drug test tomorrow. I guess it’s time for bed.”

Mina frowned. “It’s barely eight –”

“And it’s past my bedtime. Now get the fuck out of my apartment.”

The five minutes it took for them to gather their things and get out the door were the most tense five minutes of the entire night. Shinsou didn’t much care, but the others kept looking over at him as if they wanted to ask questions, and he would rapidly steer the conversation in a completely different direction, praying to whatever god that was listening that they would leave him the hell alone.

Of course they knew the truth; there was no debating that. But that didn’t mean he had to talk about it, it didn’t mean he had to admit to it. He refused to say anything to them, to anyone, to save face. And so he wouldn’t hate himself so damn much.

He made an appointment with the Commission-appointed psychiatrist for next week. It couldn’t hurt to at least vent some of his frustrations to someone. And to get some more of those pills.

Chapter Text

Bakugou didn’t remember the dream he had, but he woke up incredibly hard with his hand around his cock, and it pissed him the hell off because that had never happened before, and he wasn’t about to let it start now. All of his friends could be mindless, horny zombies if they wanted to be, but it was all a waste of time to him.

As he pulled his pajama pants back up over his hips, however, the sensation of something rubbing over his dick made him groan and nearly double over with pleasure.

God, he felt like an absolute mess. There was no way that anyone dealt with feelings like this every single day. How could they? It was infuriating.

“Damn it,” he murmured, rolling over to the nightstand and opening the bottom drawer. His hands closed around the bottle of lube and a bright green dildo that Kirishima had bought him one Valentine’s Day as a joke. He wasn’t even sure why he kept it; it wasn’t as if he used it on himself. Today, however, he was grateful for it, because he felt like he was going to absolutely lose his shit if he didn’t have something inside of him.

“This is bullshit,” he said, sticking the dildo to the headboard with the little suction cups on the bottom. He stared at it for a moment, trying to decide if it was at the right height, then turned around and gently pressed his ass against the tip of it. He wanted it to be at the same height as if Kirishima was behind him and tearing him apart, and it was. He was good at understanding what he wanted, at least.

He lubed up his fingers and the dildo, grumbling the entire time, and got to work on himself immediately. There were things to do today. He didn't have time for all this nonsense.

"Fucking Kirishima," he hissed, sliding a finger into himself. He buckled a little at the pressure, but otherwise he was okay, though he wouldn't say it was giving him any pleasure. He was just as angry as ever, just with a finger up his ass.

His body was resisting him for some reason as he slid a second finger in and began to work himself open. He kept clenching so hard he could barely move his fingers, the muscles contracting until it was near painful. But he didn't mind the pain. What he minded was the tight coil of heat in his stomach and his thighs that wouldn't go away. It was such a massive inconvenience.

Somehow he managed to get a third finger in, though it burned and ached in ways that he didn't like, but he was so tight that it was completely impossible to move. Which was just fucking fine by him because he didn't want to finger himself anyway.

"Fuck," he growled as he pulled out with a horribly obscene noise. His thighs were trembling from the fruitless effort. He was met with a meow in response. "Get the fuck out of here, Mango. You're a pervert."

She trotted over to the end of the bed and stared at him, which made him deeply uncomfortable. It felt wrong to continue his business while her wide green eyes were set on him.

"God!" he shouted, slamming his hand against the mattress. A tiny explosion sparked from his fingers, and Mango hissed and scurried out of the room.

At least he was alone now. Not that it mattered, because the mood was completely gone, and apparently he was unable to pleasure himself anyway.

It had been over a week since he'd seen Kirishima. Over a week since he'd been given files to browse and still coming up short with any answers. No one knew where these people were. They couldn't even put names to the members of the group. The person with the chameleon Quirk who was at the bank wasn't even registered anywhere, which meant they were in the country illegally, though they had no idea from where. The Commission had some things narrowed down, but no definite answers.

It was all too much for him to bear. Too much information, not enough results. He used to be smarter and better than this. He couldn't even look his friends in the eyes without feeling like he had somehow betrayed them.

It wasn't as if it was going to happen again. He slipped up, but he had a stronger resolve, a stronger drive to end all of this. He just needed somewhere to begin first.

After a lot of arguing with Inoue, Bakugou finally agreed to sit down and do a radio interview with Deku, though he swore that he would blow his brains out before getting to the studio. Inoue had not liked that. He had to count down from ten to calm himself down. That was this afternoon, after his patrol with Shinsou. Until then, he had a psychiatrist appointment, which was going to be yet another waste of his time, but if he ever hoped to find any rest, he needed those pills. And if he had to sit there and run out a clock for an hour to get them, then so be it.

He sighed. One thing at a time. If he stopped to think about any of it, then he felt like he would go insane.

His psychiatrist was named Nakamura Hina, and she was a no-nonsense old woman with permanent frown lines and glasses that made her eyes look huge. She had an empath Quirk that allowed her to read people's emotions like she was a damn mood ring, which was all the more annoying, but they had stuck Bakugou with her for a reason. He had never liked being honest about his emotions.

They had been sitting there in silence for fifteen minutes, staring at one another but not wishing to be the first to speak. He wasn't even sure why he had set up the appointment to begin with. Ever since stepping into the pristine office with its wine red carpet and its big window overlooking the city, he had decided he had nothing to say, and would therefore not say it.

Nakamura was patient with him. She did not push him or make any unnecessary noises, not even bothering to clear her throat or sigh. She just stared, hands folded on her desk in front of her, and waited, her glasses slipping down her nose as she peered over them.

After half an hour, she finally asked, "Everything okay?"

Bakugou scowled at her, because obviously nothing was okay if he was here talking to her, and her gaze darted to his foot, which he had apparently been tapping for a very long time without realizing it. He forced himself to stop, then crossed his arms over his chest, as if that would somehow hide how he was actually feeling from her.

"Fine," he grunted, not meeting her eyes.

"Hmm." It was a soft, snobby sort of sound, and he wrinkled her nose at her as she began writing on her notepad. He couldn't tell what she was writing from here, but he was sure it wasn't good. "Wanna tell me why you made the appointment when I haven't seen you in months then?"

Bakugou glared at her. "No."

"Okay." She took a sip of her water in its crystal clear glass, leaving a red lipstick stain on the rim. "I can't make you talk. I'm only here to listen and figure out what needs to be done to help. Do you think you need help, Katsuki?"

He cringed. He hated hearing his first name fall from her lips. It sounded stern, almost like when Mitsuki was mad at him and called him by his full name. Now that he thought of it, she kind of looked like Mitsuki too.

He still hadn't been answering her calls.

"What would I need help with?" he asked, swallowing against the lump in his throat. He forced himself to make eye contact, to hold it, but he knew she could see right through him. Maybe she didn't know what, but he wouldn't be able to hide it for long.

She cleared her throat, sipping her water again. "You tell me. You made the appointment."

Her gray eyes were unwavering. She folded her hands in front of her face and rested her chin on them, scrutinizing him, feeling whatever terrible energy he was giving off. "I can't sleep," he finally said. If anything came out of this appointment, it had to be the prescription.

"I see," she said, nodding as she scribbled her notes. Each scratch of the pen felt like it was stabbing into his skin. "Could that have anything to do with Eijirou?"

"No," he said, too hastily, too angrily. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he sat up straighter in his seat. "No, I don't care about him. I'm just stressed."

"Need I remind you that everything you say in this room is completely confidential?" Nakamura said. "I'm not even allowed to share anything with the Commission."

"Yeah, okay." He rolled his eyes. Commission members used to ask Kirishima personal questions all the time, things they should have had no way of knowing. "They have to know that their heroes are in perfect working condition, right?"

"Yes, and I fill out a report after each session with how I feel you are doing with no specific details. Beyond that, they don't get any information that you share with me. Now…" She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Was there anything you wanted to share today?"

He studied her face, unsure if he could trust her. The easiest answer would be no, but if he didn't talk, then he didn't get the pills, and how the hell else was he supposed to make it through the night? He sighed, running a hand over his face, and said, "I don't really know how I'm supposed to be feeling right now, so sometimes I don't feel anything at all."

"Hmm." She tapped her pen against her lips, frowning. "What are you feeling right now?"

He grunted. This was stupid. He shouldn't have made this appointment. "I feel…" He picked at the skin next to his fingernail, watching it slowly pull away. A drop of blood emerged. "I don't know. Conflicted?"

"About what?"

"I…" He couldn't tell her. He couldn't even admit it to his friends. He was one hundred percent loyal to the Commission, perfectly dedicated to being a pro hero, but late at night when he was staring at the ceiling trying to force sleep upon himself, he couldn't help but think of Kirishima, how quickly he had turned against the Commission and how badly he wanted to bring them down. He said that he saw the world for what it really was, and that the Commission had a say in more things than they realized. Society, as it seemed, revolved around perfecting and maintaining hero culture.

"What if someone is doing something bad, but it's not entirely bad?" Bakugou asked. Nakamura furrowed her eyebrows, and he shook his head, unsure what he was even asking.

"What are you referring to, Katsuki? Is this about you?"

"Um." He wasn't even sure anymore. He glanced up at the clock and saw that he only had ten minutes left. He needed to run out the time and get that prescription. But now that he was talking… "No. I don't think so. I haven't done anything bad."

Nakamura stared at him. He could tell from her expressionless face that she was reading him like an open book.

"What do you consider bad, Katsuki?"

He gritted his teeth, seething. He hated how she said his name, so calmly, so rationally, as if everything made perfect sense to her when he couldn't even begin to see what was happening. "Murdering someone."

She placed her pen down and folded her hands again. "So this is about Eijirou. You don't think what he's doing is bad?"

"I didn't say that! I just meant…" He sighed. He had dug his own grave, and now he had to lie in it. He either had to be one hundred percent against Kirishima or one hundred percent with him. There was no gray area. "What if he thinks what he's doing isn't bad? What if he thinks he's doing the right thing?"

Nakamura frowned. "They all do, don't they? They think they can save the world by creating a movement, and they only end up hurting themselves."

Bakugou suddenly felt like he wasn't getting enough air. His mouth felt dry. "They?"

"Villains."

He shook his head, and blonde hair tumbled into his eyes. He hadn't bothered with it this morning. "You can't lump him in with all of the other villains. He's not the same." He looked at the clock. Five more minutes. He could do this. He feared he had already said too much, though.

"I'm not here to lecture you on hero-villain dynamics, but once you start fighting against good people, the ones who are trying to save the day, then you yourself become the villain. Wouldn't you agree?"

They stared at one another, silent. He didn't feel like psychiatrists were supposed to ask such leading questions like that, but he had never been to one before her, so he wasn't sure. He couldn't answer, because how could they definitely say who was saving the day and who wasn't? Ryuka certainly would have seen what Kirishima did as heroic, and those that had been scorned by the Commission would probably think so too. It was all a matter of perspective, and he couldn't decide which way he wanted to look at the situation.

"I...I need something to help me sleep."

Nakamura's gaze grew more intense, burrowing into him, and finally, with a huff, she pulled out another notepad and wrote him a prescription. She tore it off and handed it to him.

He took it, never taking his eyes from her face. "What are you going to report to them?"

If possible, her frown grew deeper, dragging her whole face down with it. "I'm going to tell them that you need to take a week off and gather yourself before doing any more work. Your emotions are all over the place. It's as if there's a tangled ball of yarn inside of you that I can't unravel."

"What?" He flew up from his chair so quickly that he nearly knocked it over. He slammed his hands down on the desk and leaned toward her. She did not flinch or waver. "I can't take any time off! There's shit to do! I --"

"There are other heroes perfectly capable of doing the same job --"

"Bullshit! You know I'm better than all of them!"

"When was the last time you had a decent meal?"

He opened his mouth to answer, then realized he could not remember. He had only picked at food for the past week, barely able to stomach anything. Beyond that, he wasn't sure.

"That's what I thought," Nakamura said. "One week off, no arguments! Get out of town for a while. Relax."

"And what if I just happen across a crime? Am I just supposed to stand there and let it happen?"

"Of course not. Just don't go looking for trouble. It's getting easier and easier to find these days."

He hesitated, then nodded, shoving the prescription into his jacket.

"Same time next week?"

"Whatever."

He went out looking for trouble.

He couldn't stand the thought of getting out of town and trying to relax. The thought of it made his brain feel like it was rotting. If he tried to force himself to relax, it would only make it harder to do so. And how was he supposed to relax when Kirishima was out there doing god knows what to get back at the Commission?

He roamed around the Nabu region for a long time, since there was usually quite a bit of crime going on there. Houses lay abandoned with boarded up windows and vines creeping up across the bricks. Almost every building he walked past had been vandalized. He stopped in front of an old convenience store with a rotted sign dangling in front of it and blinding red paint scrawled across the glass in bold, messy letters: NO MORE HEROES.

It looked rather fresh. The paint was still dripping down, making it look as if the words were bleeding. The perpetrator was probably somewhere nearby. Not that he cared about going after someone who had a stupid idea for an art project.

But why would someone not want heroes around? Who the hell would save them from the villains? Themselves?

There was no activity on the street. He thought he could hear music playing from somewhere, but it was so faint that he couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from. From somewhere behind him, a trash can fell over and rolled down the sidewalk. A cat yowled.

The place had basically been unlivable for the past three years, ever since a villain attack that left trace amounts of radiation in the air, though that had mostly been taken care of. The buildings had basically been melted and scorched black, the roads and sidewalks sagging and broken from a quicksand Quirk that had caused multiple casualties. Police ruled it as an attack between rival gangs of villains, something about drug cartels and black market dealings, but only a few people had ever been brought in for questioning. The entire population of the area had been evacuated and relocated with minimal injury by people like his friends – heroes – and yet someone had the nerve to believe the world would be better off without them.

This was the perfect place for villains to hang out, in the hollow shell of a neighborhood that used to be bustling with life. They thrived on ruin and destruction.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting to find, just someone to give him a good fight, he supposed. He would win, of course, because the heroes always won, they never faced defeat. Even if they lost the battle, they never lost the war. He would win, and he would throw someone else in jail to make the streets a safer place.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, though, he hoped that this was the battleground for smaller gangs of villains. Gangs like the Red Fury.

The air was deathly silent. Too silent for his liking. He was on edge, glancing around him at every single shadow, every nook or crevice where someone could be lurking and watching him. He felt like he was being watched. It was an unpleasant feeling, one that made his skin crawl and his breath get caught in his chest. His footsteps echoed loudly through the quiet street, alerting potential enemies to his presence. Which was good. He hoped the louder he was, the sooner they would come out.

He stopped right in front of a sewer grate, forcing himself to breathe as he looked around. He was tired. He didn’t have any support gear. And yet, he needed the fight, even if it nearly killed him. He would fight until his dying breath if he could relieve himself of this pressure inside of him, unravel that tangle of emotions that Nakamura had described. Anything to distract himself for just a moment.

He heard a sound somewhere to his right, and he whipped around, listening, his heart beating louder than his explosions. Somewhere down the alley, something fell. And then there was a voice. At first, it was too low for him to hear, but as he took a step closer, the sound seemed to swell, like a voice amplification Quirk.

”They’re coming, oh god they’re coming they’re coming they’re going to swallow us up bury us alive they’re coming they’re everywhere they’re all over me help please help they won’t go away –”

A man emerged from the shadows, his face bloody and bruised, claw marks tracing their way down his cheeks. They looked fresh, and as Bakugou studied him, studied the wavering way he walked, the tears in his clothes, the way his lips moved seamlessly without taking a breath as he muttered to himself, he realized that there was blood on the man’s fingers, still dripping. He swayed back and forth like he was drunk, then fell over.

Bakugou’s feet moved without much thought, carrying him toward the man. “Hey!” he yelled, his voice louder in the silence of the street. “Hey, what the hell is going on? What happened to you?”

The man didn’t respond. He sat up, as if the fall hadn’t even impacted him, and began to scratch at his skin. It almost reminded him of Shigaraki, but the scratching was much deeper, the nails digging into his skin and releasing fresh flows of blood as he rocked back and forth, muttering nonsense to himself that Bakugou couldn’t understand.

Bakugou fell to his knees beside him, immediately tearing part of his shirt off to apply pressure to the worst of the bleeding. He didn’t have anything with him, nothing that could be of any service to this person. As he fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone, he kept repeating affirmations to the man, things they had been taught to say to crisis victims to keep them calm, things like, “It’s all going to be okay” and “I’m here to help you, you’re not alone anymore.”

The man didn’t seem to hear him, though. He didn’t even seem to know that Bakugou was there. He just kept rocking and clawing at his cheeks, his neck, his chest, tearing shreds of cloth and skin as blood continued to pour.

“Oh it hurts, it hurts! It hurts so bad oh god it hurts! Make it stop! Please! I want to die! Please!”

Panicked, Bakugou continued to apply pressure to the man’s throat, still unable to find his cell phone. There was so much blood everywhere. He knew that if something didn’t happen soon, this man was going to bleed out. “Shut up, I’m getting you help,” he said, though he wasn’t sure if that was true. He kept repeating himself, ignoring the swell of the man’s words, the way they crept into his brain like skeletal fingers and held tightly to him, too strong for him to escape from.

Then the man let out a bloodcurdling scream, his back arching as his body twitched away from Bakugou’s grip, and he turned his face to look at Bakugou. There were bits of skin missing, and it looked as if he had torn one of his eyelids off. It was like a horror movie monster gazing at him, and he hesitated for just a second. He swore it was only a second, but it was a second too long, and the man lunged at him, going straight for his throat.

Bakugou threw his arm out to block him, but he was met with far more strength than he was expecting, which knocked him off balance and gave the man a perfect opening. He stared into wide, dark, unseeing eyes as crimson fingers wrapped around him, pressing into his neck and cutting off his air. He gasped, straining against the weight on top of him, then managed to get an arm free and slam the heel of his hand into the man’s chin. It barely even fazed him.

“I feel them everywhere,” the man said, breathless, terrified. “Under my skin, in my lungs. No matter what I do, they won’t go away. They’re eating me from the inside out. I can’t –” He loosened his grip just slightly, his eyes growing even darker, then threw his head back and screamed to the sky. A vein bulged in his neck, thick and blue and pulsing. He looked absolutely feral.

“Holy shit,” Bakugou murmured, taking in a very painful, raspy breath. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

The man did not answer. His screams were cut off as a metal rod shot through his chest, spraying blood across Bakugou’s face and stopping just short of piercing through him as well. His breath caught as his eyes met the man's, now glassy and waning. His lips trembled, but no sound came out.

"Well, well. Looks like they really did a number on ya, didn't they?"

Bakugou froze at the sound of the deep voice, coming from somewhere he couldn't see. And then he caught a glimpse of someone popping into existence from seemingly nowhere, his skin formerly the color of his surroundings now returning to a light green. It was the chameleon guy he had seen at the bank. Which meant Kirishima was probably somewhere close by.

Chameleon man grabbed the dying guy by the hair, jerking him backward to look at his face. He shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Poor guy. Probably didn't know what he was getting into."

Horror seeped through Bakugou’s chest, cold and suffocating. "You just fucking killed him."

The chameleon man turned his attention to Bakugou, a small smile gracing his lips as he pulled the metal rod from the man's chest. The body thudded to the ground. "Yeah, you're welcome, hero," the man said as he wiped the bloody rod on his pants, "but I guess they don't teach you to be grateful to villains for saving your life, huh?"

"You didn't save my life! You fucking killed someone --"

"Oh, give it a rest. He was dead already." The man crouched next to where Bakugou still lay on the sidewalk covered in a cold sweat, hardly able to breathe. "You heroes and your morality trips. You think you're doing the world a service, but all you do is shove your self-righteous, sacrificial bullshit down other people's throats."

Bakugou had never been called "self-righteous" or "sacrificial," so he wasn't sure what to make of that. What he was sure of, though, was that he didn't want this man anywhere near him. He got up, nudging the man aside in the process, and ignited his hands.

"One good deed doesn't stop you from being a villain," he said. "Now shut the hell up and fight me, you fucking freak."

The man's smile grew even wider, and he exhaled a laugh. His eyes turned different ways, Bakugou realized. He could probably see from all around him. And he could camouflage too. He definitely had an upper hand right now. "You call me a freak. They all called me a freak. I was marked for failure before I even stood a chance. I wanted to be a hero just like you, you know. But they turned me into a villain. They made me this way."

Bakugou rolled his eyes. "No one did this shit to you. It's a choice you have to make. And you fucked up, so now you have to reap the consequences of your own dumbass actions."

The man grinned. His yellow eyes fell on Bakugou’s face, making him deeply unsettled. "You want a fight, hero? I'll give you a fight."

"Really? Because I hear a whole lot of talking and not enough--"

The man disappeared. Bakugou could just slightly see the outline of him against the sidewalk and the buildings, but he had to concentrate really hard to do it. If he lost him for even a second, he wasn't sure he'd be able to find him again.

"Fucking coward! Stop hiding and let me fucking hit you!" He hurled an explosion in the general area he could see the outline, but it did not hit, instead smacking into a trash can and sending bits of plastic and garbage flying into the air. He sucked in a breath, watching with anticipation for an attack, but none came.

And then he lost him. Panic struck him for a moment as he looked around, searching for the subtle hint of his enemy but finding nothing. He had to gain the upper hand quickly. If he didn't, he knew he would lose. His health had been on the decline for weeks, and he was so, so tired. Not to mention that he had no gear. Didn't mean he wasn't going to fight though. It just meant he had to be smarter and tougher than this guy, which should be no problem --

The metal rod smacked into the back of his legs with such force he fell to his knees and slammed into the concrete. His vision swam for a second, but he was back on his feet, swinging his arm in an arc and landing an explosion right on the man's chest. It scorched him, his skin raw and pink and bloody where he had been hit, but it only served to make him angrier. He lashed out again with the rod, and Bakugou narrowly missed being taken off his feet again. He couldn't believe how slow he was today. It was like he was trying to swim against a current and couldn't move.

"Take your loss and go home, hero," Chameleon Man said, spinning the rod in his hands. "You walk away right now, I'll let you live."

"Let me?" Bakugou scoffed. "You don't let me do anything. You villains are so fucking arrogant --"

The man swung, and Bakugou leaped into the air, using his explosions to propel himself. The action made him dizzy, but he stayed in the air, using what little strength he had to weave up and away from the villain.

"Come down, hero," the man taunted, a wide grin on his face. "Or are you scared of losing?"

Bakugou grunted. The smell of his own sweat and the smoke and fire flooded his senses. He felt very heavy, and each propelled shot through the air felt slower and slower. He threw an explosion toward the man, but he missed. His vision blurred. His body ached. He was so, so tired. This was no condition to fight in, but he had to keep fighting, had to get rid of this guy, had to --

He crashed to the ground with a groan, slamming his head into the concrete. Somewhere above him, he heard a low chuckle and footsteps slowly coming his way. He scrambled to sit up, his muscles screaming with the simple motion, and someone grabbed his head and slammed it back into the sidewalk. Pain exploded through his skull. His vision went black. Blood poured from a gash in his forehead, dripping into his eyes. He thought he might pass out, but he fought on, pushing against the weight bearing down on him. All of his strength was gone. He didn't even think he had it in him for one more explosion, just to get this creep off of him.

"Now I see why he likes you so much," Chameleon Man whispered, his knee digging into Bakugou’s spine. He jerked his head back against his chest, his smile wicked and serpentine. "You're kind of a looker, aren't ya? Real pretty. Such a gorgeous little hero."

"Get -- the fuck -- off of me," Bakugou hissed, each word sending fresh pain through his body. He could barely breathe. His skin was gleaming with sweat, but there was no strength to do anything. He had done this to himself. He had put himself in this situation purposely, and for what? What the hell was he trying to prove to himself?

"Hey!"

The familiar voice rang in his ears, but it felt almost dreamlike, far away and out of reach. He grunted, managed to jab an elbow in the man's chest with one last bit of strength, then felt the weight leave him. He heard a body thump against the ground, but his vision was clouded. He had no idea what was going on, only knew that he was barely holding on to consciousness. And he needed to get out of here. There was no reason to die here.

“Oh, come on, boss!” Chameleon Man exclaimed, his voice gruff and raspy. “You wanna get back at the Commission, you go for their heroes! Doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun first, right?”

“When I told you that he was mine, I meant it. Now leave.”

Bakugou could hear some grumbling, followed by the sound of receding footsteps echoing down the sidewalk. He pushed out a breath, expelling a spray of blood across the concrete. This shouldn’t have been a big deal. He should have been able to get up and fight again, no problem. But all of the fight had left him. He could barely even see. Everything was red and blurry, and he kept fading in and out as he heard someone approach him.

A pair of boots stopped in front of his face, and there was a long second when nothing moved. It was as if the entire world was holding its breath. Then slowly, the person dropped into a crouching position. Bakugou’s heart was pounding explosively behind his bruised ribs. A finger dipped underneath his chin, forcing his head up to meet those blood-red eyes that had haunted his dreams for weeks.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Kirishima said, his lips curling devilishly. “God, you look like shit.”

“So what brings you to Nabu?” Kirishima asked, stretching his legs out next to Bakugou just as casually as if he were stretching across a couch.

Bakugou spat up more blood and curled his fingers against the concrete. If he had any sort of strength right now, he would blow up the whole sidewalk and not have to worry about Kirishima ever again. But both of them knew he wasn’t capable of fighting right now.

Kirishima sighed in frustration. “So you’re just not talking to me at all now? Giving me the silent treatment? That’s a little childish, isn’t it?”

Bakugou groaned as he tried to push himself up, his arms trembling trying to hold up his weight. Finally, he flopped back onto the ground and rolled onto his back, craning his neck to look at Kirishima. “I don’t think you have any room to talk about how childish I’m being when you’re throwing the biggest temper tantrum in the world.”

Kirishima raised an eyebrow. “Is that what this is? A temper tantrum?”

Bakugou rubbed at his eyes, smearing blood across his face, and finally managed to sit up. His head was spinning, the world tilting around him, and his gaze landed on the dead body a few feet away from him. His stomach clenched. He felt like he was going to be sick.

“How many dead bodies are you going to leave behind before you realize what a piece of shit you are now?”

Silence.

“I didn’t kill him.”

“Yeah, well, you might as well have.” Bakugou rolled his eyes. Even that simple motion made pain explode through his head. “Your creepy ass friend did, and you didn’t do a damn thing about it.”

Kirishima shrugged with one shoulder. He curled one leg closer to his body, resting a hand on his knee. “What was I supposed to do? Kill him?”

“No, you should have –” Bakugou let out a frustrated huff. This shouldn’t have been so damn difficult. “You should have done something.”

“It would have been better if he was dead sooner.”

Bakugou clenched his fist and bit down on his lip hard. He couldn’t understand what was happening, why Kirishima was saying things like this, what had shifted in his mind to make him the most miserable, self-loathing asshole Bakugou had ever known besides himself. Kirishima used to not be like this. What was the tipping point? What made him think that murder was okay?

He looked over at Kirishima sitting next to him, their eyes meeting in a long, lingering stare that Bakugou couldn’t quite understand other than it made his skin crawl, and not in an entirely unpleasant way. He should be beating the hell out of him, tearing him apart. It was the perfect opportunity. Kirishima was still and calm, not expecting an attack. He could knock him out and take him in. He was capable of that.

“You don’t get to choose who lives or dies,” he said instead. “That’s godlike power, and you don’t have that.”

“You used to call yourself a god.”

Bakugou snorted. “Yeah. I was a teenager. We thought we were invincible then.”

They sat in silence for a long time. Though his heart was pounding and his body was covered in blood and bruises, he felt oddly at peace. His guard was slowly falling away. It was almost…comfortable. But it shouldn’t have been.

“I like this,” Kirishima said. “Spending time with you again. I really do miss you.”

“Tch.” He swallowed, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at the blood splattered sidewalk. The flips his stomach was doing right now rivaled a circus act. “You should be in handcuffs right now.”

Kirishima fixed him with a gaze that nearly knocked all of the breath out of him. His eyes held him for a long time, freezing him to the spot, before slowly traveling down the rest of his body and landing on his face again. He smirked, running his tongue over his sharp teeth. “You wanna put me in handcuffs?” He flipped onto all fours, crawling across the short space between him and Bakugou. Bakugou tried not to stare, tried to ignore the fact that he could feel his heartbeat in every inch of his body, thudding violent and fast like a freight train. He couldn’t even bring himself to move as Kirishima leaned in, his lips mere inches away from Bakugou’s face. His breath was warm against his skin. “You wanna tie me up?”

“S-stop,” Bakugou said, cursing the waver in his voice. He felt hot all over. He hated Kirishima being this close to him, hated feeling this weak. It didn’t make sense to him how he could be so perfectly clear-headed all day then go completely stupid just because he was in close proximity to his ex.

His ex, who was a villain or whatever. He had to remind himself of that often.

“If you wanna cuff me, Katsuki, go ahead,” Kirishima said, his voice soft and sincere as he offered up his wrists. “I’m all yours, baby.”

“Stop,” Bakugou hissed, more firm now as he got to his feet. He wavered slightly, swaying from side to side, and took a step forward. He had to get out of here. He couldn’t think straight in this condition, and he certainly couldn’t fight. As difficult as it was for him to admit, Kirishima had won once again. He was ruining himself.

“Why did you come here, Bakugou?” Kirishima asked. “Were you just looking for a fight? Or were you looking for me?”

Bakugou gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, forcing in a breath. His head was pounding. The world looked like it was tilting back and forth. He took another step forward and stumbled. A hand closed around his wrist, pulling him back to his feet before he could hit the ground. He could feel Kirishima close behind him, his fingers still lightly wrapped around his wrist, his body giving off warm, comforting heat. He was afraid to turn around, afraid to look Kirishima in the eyes again.

Had he come here hoping to run into Kirishima? It would be the most likely place for a group of villains on the run to hide. And he had come here alone and unprepared. Maybe he wasn't actually trying to apprehend anyone today. Maybe…

"Don't touch me," he growled, jerking his arm away from Kirishima. "I don't ever want you to fucking touch me again."

He waited, but no response came. His chest felt tight with a sob that wanted to break loose, or maybe a scream, he wasn't sure. Finally, Kirishima said, "Okay. I'm sorry. I was just joking around--"

"You don't get to joke around with me anymore!" Bakugou yelled, rounding on him and hurling an explosion at his feet. It was small, weak, and Kirishima was barely fazed by it. His face, though, was somber, and Bakugou realized that Kirishima looked just as tired as he felt. He wasn't even bothering to try to put up a fight.

It only made the flames of Bakugou’s rage grow that much stronger.

"Why the hell are you doing this? What's the fucking point? You know damn well how this is going to end for you, and you just keep fighting! You keep --" He sucked in a breath, forced himself to stay stable. He still felt like he was going to black out at any second. And Kirishima's face...God, his face. He kept getting flashes of him standing on the railing of their balcony, and he felt like he was going to throw up. "What happened to you that was worth leaving me?"

"I never wanted to leave you--"

"Then why did you? You were always going to leave me one way or another, either running off or fucking jumping off the side of a building --"

"Bakugou --"

"Shut the fuck up! I don't want to hear it anymore. I just…" His voice broke. He was unable to hold back the flood building up inside of him as tears fell from his eyes. He stared down at his burned, scarred hands, watched as a tear fell on his palm. "I just want it to stop. I want you to leave me alone."

His legs wavered underneath his weight, and he was unable to hold himself up any longer. He fell to his knees, slamming a fist into the concrete and screaming as his skin cracked open and bled. He halfway expected to find himself very, very alone and sobbing in the middle of a forgotten neighborhood, but he felt Kirishima drop down next to him, keeping a respectful distance, not touching him. He sniffled, wiped at his nose. He wasn't sure he had ever cried this much in his life, not even after Kamino Ward. There, he had ruined All Might, and now, he felt like Dynamight was ruined too. He just loved killing heroes.

Maybe he was the villain.

"I made a lot of fast decisions that weren't really all that great," Kirishima said. "I can't try to make sense of what happened, Bakugou. I felt...manic. That's the best way I know how to describe it. I felt like I wasn't in control of myself anymore. I just knew that I had to get away, and I didn't want to drag you down with me. The second I walked out that door, the Red Riot everyone knew died. And I know that I should have given you a choice, but…" He took in a deep, rattling breath. "I don't know. Maybe I was afraid to hear you say that you didn't choose me."

Bakugou’s hands were shaking. He couldn't see anything through all the blood and the tears. "What makes you so sure I wouldn't have chosen you?"

"Being a hero has been your dream practically since the day you were born. I don't think I could ever even begin to --"

"Dreams change. I didn't want to be a pro hero if you weren't fighting alongside me."

Kirishima sighed. "So now we're fighting each other."

Bakugou nodded. "Yeah. Now we're fighting each other."

Eventually the tears stopped. He sat down on the sidewalk, drawing his legs up close to his chest and resting his head on his knees. All of the tension started to roll away from him as they settled into another comfortable silence. He could feel his eyes slipping shut, his muscles unfurling, his heartbeat slow. He could probably sleep here. God, he was tired.

“Do you want me to take you somewhere?” Kirishima asked.

“I don’t need your help. I can walk myself home.”

“Bakugou, you’re about to pass out,” Kirishima said wearily. “You won’t make it back by yourself. Just…let me drop you off at the agency or at your apartment –”

“Can’t. They have cameras there. They’ll see you.”

“Well, I don’t really care about that right now. I care about getting you home safely. You look like absolute shit.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Thanks.” He could feel Kirishima pressing in closer to him, but he refused to look up at him. His heartbeat picked up again. It felt like it was rising and pulsing in his throat. “But I don’t want them to see you. They’ll take you to jail.”

“Weren’t you the one wanting me arrested?”

Bakugou hummed in response. He was right on the edge of sleep. It was the first time he felt like he might be able to sleep without any pills since their first confrontation. “I don’t want you arrested,” he said. “I want…”

He shook his head and cracked his eyes open, tilting his face so that he could look at Kirishima. He looked so much like himself in that moment, crouched next to Bakugou with that concerned look on his face and his eyes filled with so much warm affection, that it made Bakugou’s heart hurt. He didn’t look like a villain. He looked like Kirishima. And he realized that he did not hate him. Even after all he put him through, he didn’t hate him.

“What do you want, Katsuki?” Kirishima asked, his voice soft. “What can I do? You know I would do anything for you.”

He wiped at his face, at the dried up blood on his cheeks, and found that he could do little else but stare. He never in a thousand years thought of himself being in a relationship, and somehow this little shit sitting in front of him weaseled his way into his life and made him feel things he had never understood until they met. And it was simultaneously the best and worst feeling in the world knowing that nothing could change that. Not the fact that he had joined up with a group of villains, not the fact that he was trying to destroy hero society, not the fact that he left him without any warning or any explanation.

His body sort of moved on its own, but he was perfectly aware of what was happening, perfectly aware of what drove him to crawl into Kirishima’s lap. He settled there, resting his hands on Kirishima’s shoulders as their eyes met and they breathed the same air. He saw the slow blush creeping up Kirishima’s neck, spotting his cheeks, felt the stuttered, nervous breath fall from his lips. His hands tentatively found Bakugou’s waist, hauling him closer until Bakugou could feel his heartbeat underneath him. His eyes fluttered shut, and he pressed his forehead against Kirishima’s, unable to break whatever wicked, unearthly tether held him to the other man.

He didn’t believe in soulmates, not even a little bit. But if they did exist, then through whatever trials or adversities they faced, Kirishima was his.

“I love you,” he whispered, as Kirishima’s lips found his, brushing over them briefly.

“Don’t say that.” Kirishima shook his head, his hair fluttering against Bakugou’s skin. “Don’t ever say that.”

“I love you,” Bakugou said anyway, though he wasn’t sure why he was saying it. He had never felt this weak, this vulnerable, and if he could see himself from the outside right now he would probably scream, but he couldn’t make himself stop. “I love you, I love you, I –”

“No, you don’t.”

Bakugou’s eyes flew open, his nails digging into the skin of Kirishima’s shoulders. “You can’t tell me how I fucking feel –”

“Bakugou –”

“Shut up.” He slammed his lips against Kirishima’s, his hands sliding up to tangle in thick strands of red hair. Kirishima resisted him at first, his hand shoving at Bakugou’s waist to push him away, but he relented easily enough. His lips parted, and Bakugou’s tongue slid into his mouth, curling against his sharp teeth as he moaned. The sharp taste of metal burst against his tongue, and he pushed in deeper, then pulled out, licking over Kirishima’s lower lip and then going straight for his neck. He bit at his jawline, his teeth sinking into tough skin as Kirishima let out a soft cry. His rough hands slid over Bakugou’s hips, slowly pushing his shirt up as his fingers slid up and over his tight, aching muscles.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Kirishima said, but still, he tilted his head out of the way as Bakugou kissed across his throat, and his grip on Bakugou’s hips tightened. “You’re out of it. You don’t want –”

“There’s nothing in the world I want more.” He pulled on Kirishima’s hair, jerking his head further back, and he heard Kirishima’s breath catch.

“I’m gonna ruin you –”

“I’m already ruined.”

“If we get caught –”

“I don’t care.”

Kirishima shuddered against him, and he let out a breath, resting his head against Kirishima’s shoulder. Of course, he did care, but he couldn’t say no to this. And he was going to be so careful. No one would ever know. They could fight when they were on the clock, but he was suspended this week. Kirishima was just Kirishima, and he was just Bakugou. And they had, technically, never broken up, as Kirishima said.

This was the gray area. And he was slowly sinking into darkness.

“We should get you cleaned up. Maybe get you some food. You’re not taking care of yourself.”

Bakugou held him tighter. He scanned over the sidewalk, over the abandoned buildings that lay haunted and hollow around them, and his gaze fell on the corpse of the man who had attacked him. His stomach clenched. He had almost forgotten.

What the hell was wrong with him?

“What happened?” Bakugou asked. “To that guy your friend killed.”

Kirishima sighed. “I have a few ideas, but none that are solid.”

“Tell me.”

“We should get you cleaned up first.”

Chapter Text

Half an hour later, he found himself in the bathroom of a rundown hotel where the front desk clerk barely even glanced at them as he handed them a room key. The room was dirty, and it smelled like moth balls, but at least there was little to no risk of anyone recognizing them. He didn’t mean it when he said he didn’t care if they got caught. Because if they got caught, his career was over. It should already be over with everything he’d done. And he was only spiraling further.

There was a knock at the bathroom door. “Are you okay?” Kirishima called to him.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror. The obvious answer was no. It looked as if he had dropped at least five pounds. His eyes looked dark, sunken. There were bruises and cuts all over his skin, and blood dried on his cheeks and in his hair. He hardly recognized the person staring back at him.

“Fine,” he answered, his fingers curling against the yellowed porcelain sink. His stomach turned, and he felt bile rise in his throat, but he choked it back. There was nothing in his stomach to come out.

“It’s just…you’ve been in there for a while, and you haven’t showered. I was just making sure…”

“I’m getting in now.”

“Okay…”

Bakugou sighed, raking a hand through his messy, crimson-stained hair. He pulled out his cell phone from his jacket pocket and saw that he had a few missed calls from Inoue, as well as a couple of texts from Shinsou asking where he was.

Oh, right. They were supposed to patrol together today.

He ignored all of it, slipping out of his ripped clothes that were almost too big for him now, and turned on the shower. The water never got hot, but he got in, standing under the steady stream with its terrible water pressure and letting it run over his sore body. He stared down at his feet, at the red-tinged water pooling around his toes before disappearing down the drain. It seemed like there was so much, and it just kept coming.

He shivered underneath the cool water. Something swelled in his chest, something he couldn’t quite name. “Kirishima?”

For a moment, there was no answer. Panic overtook him, leaving his mouth dry and his head swirling. Of course he would leave, why the hell would he stay? What was he thinking, letting Kirishima drag him to this rundown hotel?

“Eijirou?” he said, his voice shaking more than he was comfortable admitting.

“I’m here. Are you okay?”

He sighed in relief. The last thing he wanted was to step out of the shower and find he was alone. “I’m fine. Can you come in here?”

He was met with silence. The water sputtered weakly on him. His heart raced. Finally, he heard the door creak open, and footsteps followed. He could see Kirishima’s silhouette through the thin shower curtain, just standing there, waiting.

“Do you need anything?” Kirishima asked. “I got some snacks from the vending machine. You should probably –”

“Can you come in?”

“I-in the shower?”

“Yeah.”

Chill bumps rose along his skin. He waited, counting the seconds before Kirishima responded. Sixteen. “I don’t think I should –”

“Please.”

He heard a sigh, not exactly frustrated, just sort of tired. Then Kirishima’s boots thumped to the floor, followed by his belt and everything else. He held his breath as the shower curtain was slowly drawn back. He hadn’t seen Kirishima naked in over two years.

“I don’t understand what changed – what?” Kirishima tilted his head to the side, looking like a confused puppy.

Fuck, how could someone be cute and hot at the same time?

He swore he stopped breathing. His brain felt like it was melting as he took in the sight before him. Kirishima had always been muscular; he worked out religiously. But he had filled out more, his shoulders broad, his chest and abdomen more toned than before. Everything looked hard, even without his Quirk. His skin was darker, tan, and freckles bloomed in places they hadn’t been before – across his chest, on his arms, a few dotting his thighs. His thick, muscular thighs that Bakugou desperately wanted wrapped around his head.

“When did you get this?” he asked, letting his fingers glide over his smooth, chiseled abdomen, up toward his left nipple where a black ring piercing hung. He tried to ignore the scars that criss-crossed over his skin. Kirishima did not scar easily; he must have gotten hit hard.

“Oh.” Kirishima chuckled nervously, ruffling his loose, messy hair. It was darker now, the red fading quickly. “I don’t remember, honestly. I think I was high. I forget it’s there sometimes.”

His fingers stayed there, grazing over the piercing gently before meeting Kirishima’s eyes. “You’re different now,” he said.

Kirishima nodded. His skin bloomed a rosy pink. “Yeah. So are you.”

“You’re fucking hot.” Kirishima’s eyes widened slightly, and Bakugou scoffed. “Not that you weren’t fucking hot before –”

“Bakugou.” Kirishima’s eyebrows pinched together in the middle as he frowned. “Last time we saw each other, you said you wanted to kill me.”

“Yeah? And I also wanna ride you until you fucking break in half. I don’t understand what’s confusing about that.”

Kirishima opened his mouth to say something, but Bakugou cut him off as he wrapped his arms around his neck and dragged him close, smashing their lips together violently enough to nearly knock Kirishima off his feet. He stumbled against the edge of the shower, one foot slipping in the water as Bakugou dragged him in with him, never breaking contact, never stopping to breathe.

Bakugou staggered back blindly until his back slammed into the porcelain wall, and Kirishima pushed closer to him, his entire body trapped just as he wanted. The cool water wasn’t hitting him anymore, blocked by Kirishima’s body on top of him, but still he shivered as Kirishima’s rough fingers grasped his hips, pinning him against the wall so he couldn’t move.

Perfect.

He tore his lips away from Kirishima’s with a low growl as he pushed wet, red strands of hair out of the way and dove to his neck, clamping down on his collarbone. Kirishima groaned, his hips twitching forward and further pinning Bakugou against the wall.

“Kats –” Kirishima gasped in a breath, burying his face into Bakugou’s neck. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why should it matter to you? You don’t have anything to lose.”

“But you do, and I can’t –”

Bakugou grabbed his chin, forcing his face back up to meet his eyes. Kirishima stared at him, his eyes wide and unblinking, almost terrified, and Bakugou pressed a kiss to his nose. “We’re both going to hell anyway. Might as well enjoy the ride.”

Kirishima hesitated, unsure, then slowly, the corner of his mouth curled into a smile. He grabbed Bakugou’s wrist and jerked his hand away, pinning it above his head. Bakugou sucked in a rattling breath, wriggling under Kirishima’s hold. Fuck, he was hard.

“I guess you still like being pushed around,” Kirishima said. He rolled his hips against Bakugou, and Bakugou groaned. He could feel Kirishima’s thick cock pressing into his stomach, smearing precome over his skin. He wanted it buried inside him.

“F-fuck –” He hissed under his breath as Kirishima took his earlobe between his teeth and clamped down, sucking gently before soothing over it with his tongue and that stupid ball piercing. God, he was trembling. He could barely stand up.

“You promise to eat after this?” Kirishima asked, pressing hard kisses over his jawline.

“Mhmm.” Bakugou turned his head, capturing Kirishima’s lips with his own and kissing him long and hard. He wanted to kiss him forever. It was making him dizzy, and yet it wasn’t enough. He wanted his mouth everywhere, his hands roaming over every inch of him that he could reach.

“Good.” Kirishima brushed his thumb over Bakugou’s bottom lip, then kissed him. “Can’t keep this rivalry going if you’re on your deathbed.”

“I’m suspended.” He wiggled against Kirishima, finally managing to free one of his legs. He hooked it around Kirishima’s waist, pulling him closer. There was barely any room for either of them to breathe. “But once they let me come back to work, I’m gonna destroy you.”

Kirishima shuddered against him. “Shit.”

Bakugou raised an eyebrow. “Does that do something for you?”

Kirishima bit down on his throat, and his hips twitched upward in response. “I’m gonna knock that stupid, smug look off your face, Kats.”

“Yeah? Give it your best shot.”

"Maybe I should stuff that pretty mouth of yours full of cock so you'll shut up."

Bakugou shivered, his hands scrambling for some sort of leverage above his head. He turned his head away as Kirishima tried to kiss him, his chest rising and falling with shallow, grating breaths.

"Oh god, was that too much right now?" Kirishima asked, voice wavering. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean --"

"No, keep talking to me like that. You never did that before. You were always too nice."

Kirishima blew out a warm breath that tickled over Bakugou’s skin. He felt like he was on fire. Everywhere that his and Kirishima's bodies met was an untamed inferno, and he was going to completely burn himself up. "Are you sure this is okay? You look like you could really --"

"Stop checking on me. I'm fine."

"Okay, but that makes me think that you're not fine, and --"

"You are the most infuriating person I've ever met." Bakugou dug his heel into Kirishima’s spine, pushing him closer against him. The slide of his dick over Bakugou’s was almost too much for him to handle. This was what he was wanting this morning, and he was incapable of getting it himself.

"I could say the same about you. But you're also the bravest, manliest, strongest, most incredible --"

"You talk so damn much." He jerked his arms free from Kirishima's hold and turned the water off, and for a long moment they just stood there staring at each other, waiting for the other to make a move. Then, as Bakugou’s hand trailed up Kirishima’s chest to play with his nipple piercing, he said, "Are you gonna fuck me or not?"

Kirishima’s hands slid down Bakugou’s body, wrapping around his thighs as Bakugou jumped into his arms. He hooked his legs around his waist, kissing him deeply as he ran his fingers through his wet hair. Kirishima tasted like cinnamon and honey, and Bakugou didn't want to ever stop tasting it. It was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted, sweeter than any dessert. Kirishima had to practically pull him off of his face so he could see where he was going.

They crashed into the bathroom door as Kirishima fumbled for the knob, his lips traveling from Bakugou’s mouth, over his jawline, down his throat, over his shoulders, anywhere that Kirishima could reach. Each scrape of his teeth drew a soft sigh from Bakugou’s lips, and he clung tighter to him, his hips moving of their own accord against Kirishima’s. He felt sloppy, desperate, pathetic, and he couldn't stop himself as his nails dug into skin and Kirishima kissed him. Over and over again, he kissed him, and it still wasn't enough.

Finally he managed to get the door open, and they nearly tumbled out onto the floor. Kirishima managed to catch his balance, though he blindly stumbled through the small hotel room as Bakugou held his face and peppered him with aggressive, needy kisses that he couldn't be bothered to feel ashamed about. Each messy, wet slide of their lips and tongues crashing together drew sweet moans from Kirishima, and that alone was almost enough to make him come. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

"What would the Commission say if they knew their number four hero was taking it up the ass from a wanted criminal?" Kirishima said as he dropped Bakugou onto the bed. Bakugou shuddered, sprawling out over the dirty comforter and lumpy pillows. He felt so fucking dirty being here.

And he loved it.

"I imagine they wouldn't like it too much," Bakugou replied. "They didn't like it too much when you weren't a wanted criminal."

Kirishima hovered over him, not touching him, which was driving him completely insane. He felt like every part of his body was screaming, crying out for attention, and Kirishima was just sitting there staring at him with this utterly soft, tender expression that made his heart ache. He reached for him, knowing how desperate he looked and not caring, and Kirishima obliged, falling into his arms and kissing him, starting at his lips and slowly traveling down. They were still soaking wet. Their bodies glided together perfectly as Bakugou’s hips left the bed, chasing friction he craved. His breath stuttered out of him as Kirishima touched him, and he threw back his head with a moan, his fingers curling into the bedsheets almost painfully.

"You're so pretty when you fall apart like this, Katsuki," Kirishima said. His sharp teeth closed around a nipple, and the softest whine left Bakugou’s mouth as his hands fisted in Kirishima's hair. He didn't mean to be pushy, but Kirishima was taking his time, exploring every inch of his body that he hadn't seen in two years, and it was simultaneously amazing and infuriating. What he wanted was a thorough fucking that would render him completely useless for the rest of the week, and it was exasperating. He had never been this horny in his life.

"Please," he whimpered, only halfway aware of how pitiful he sounded as Kirishima sucked bruises across his chest. His hips stuttered upward, his hands involuntarily shoving Kirishima lower down his body. "Please --"

"I don't have anything with me," Kirishima said. "No lube, no condom."

"I don't care." He was basically gasping for air now. Kirishima’s hands traveled over his sides, rubbing circles over his hips, so close to touching him and not close enough. He felt like he was going to scream. "Please, just --" He groaned, unable to even find his words. He was spiraling out of control, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could last.

"Use words." It was Kirishima’s voice, but it was sort of dark, sort of domineering. It lit a fire in Bakugou's chest.

"I want you," Bakugou growled, climbing to his knees as he pushed Kirishima back onto the bed, "to bury yourself balls deep inside me and fuck me until I can't even remember my name."

Kirishima stared at him, unblinking, his pupils blown wide and his cheeks flushed red. God, he was pretty. It was unbelievable he'd waited this long just to get a taste of him again.

"What else?" Kirishima asked. His fingers were inching down Bakugou’s body, curling around his thighs, pulling him down onto his lap where his leaking cock waited for him.

"Break me. Make me feel like I've been fighting and I can't take anymore. Make me breathless from screaming your name."

His grip tightened on Bakugou’s thighs, then slowly, his hand slid up to cup his ass. Bakugou rocked forward against him, kissing his swollen lips. "Tear me apart, Ei," he whispered, his tongue gliding over the shell of Kirishima’s ear. "Make me feel wanted."

"I do want you," Kirishima said, a slight waver to his voice. "I've always wanted you."

Bakugou pressed his hand into Kirishima’s chest, his thumb running over the nipple piercing as he slowly rocked his ass back against Kirishima’s cock. He was tight, he knew, and it was going to hurt, but he wanted it. He wanted it so bad it made him feel crazy.

"Then prove it. Prove how much you want me."

Kirishima sighed. “Open up.” He didn’t wait for Bakugou to obey as he shoved his fingers past his lips, and Bakugou sucked on them for several seconds, letting his drool coat them before Kirishima pulled them away. “Please let me know if I’m hurting you. Don’t just sit there and take it.”

Bakugou nodded, pressing his lips to Kirishima’s as a finger slid past his rim. He nearly doubled over from the burn of it, his fingers grasping Kirishima’s shoulders for leverage. It was already too much, his eyes pooling with tears, and Kirishima was hesitant to touch him. Bakugou pushed himself back onto his finger, moaning with a mixture of pain and pleasure. He was starting to open up, but it was slow, his muscles still resisting as they had resisted him this morning. Kirishima’s slow, expert touch made it easier though. He knew, even now, how Bakugou liked to be touched.

He sniffled, unsure why he was on the verge of tears. He slid his hand across Kirishima’s chest, feeling out each curve and plane of his muscles. "Talk to me."

"Okay. Um...how are you feeling?"

Bakugou rolled his eyes. "Shitty. Mostly because of you. I still fucking hate you." He sighed. "But no, I meant talk dirty to me. I need to come."

"Aren't you gonna ask how I'm feeling?"

Bakugou hesitated. All this time, he had been so focused on how he was feeling that he hadn’t stopped to consider what Kirishima was feeling. He frowned. "Probably pretty good, considering you have the hottest piece of hero ass on top of you."

Kirishima exhaled a laugh, but the humor didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah. Guess I should count myself lucky."

"I'd say so."

“Does it hurt?”

Bakugou shrugged with one shoulder, clenching around Kirishima’s finger as it glided over his inner walls. “A little.” A lot, actually, but he wasn’t going to be a little bitch about it. Not when he had wanted Kirishima for this long and finally had the chance to have him.

“You haven’t been seeing anyone?”

“Who the fuck would I be seeing? I hate everyone.”

Kirishima chuckled. “I guess that’s true.” Bakugou thought he saw relief in his eyes, but he could have imagined it. It was gone within a second, replaced by that dark, sinful look that made Bakugou forget who he was or what he was fighting for.

He closed his eyes, lifting himself off of Kirishima’s lap to slam back down on his finger, fucking himself open. Every nerve ending in his body was crackling with electricity. He probably wouldn’t even get to the good part. He felt like he was already at his tipping point.

“Ngh, fuck Eijirou –” He doubled over, gasping as Kirishima’s finger brushed his prostate. His nails sank deep into Kirishima’s shoulders, and he let out a low moan as he ground his ass against him. “Shit. More.”

“Okay.” He pulled out, and Bakugou nearly screamed. He was trembling, splayed out on top of Kirishima and heaving as Kirishima’s wet fingers fell to the head of his leaking cock. Bakugou pressed forward, desperate for more of his touch as he smeared precome over his fingers, then went back to work on his gaping hole, shoving two fingers in this time. Bakugou let out a yelp, then clapped a hand over his mouth and met Kirishima’s eyes with a steady glare.

The little shit was grinning at him like he had just told the best joke in the world.

“Fuck you,” Bakugou hissed under his breath. “I fucking hate you so fucking –” He twisted Kirishima’s nipple, and Kirishima arched into his touch with a low moan, not breaking his rough pace as he slammed his fingers into Bakugou over and over again. It hurt, but it wasn’t that bad anymore. He was slicker now, and he was opening up beautifully around Kirishima’s fingers. He had to bite down on his lip to suppress his moans as Kirishima’s fingers curled and pounded into him, his legs trembling as he rose up and slammed back down onto him.

“God, Katsuki, you’re so pretty,” Kirishima whispered, fingers digging into his hip hard enough to bruise. “So, so –”

“Shut up,” Bakugou gasped out. He felt dizzy. A thick sheen of sweat covered his body, leaving the smell of caramel lingering in the air along with the hot, warm scent of sex. Sometimes he lost control, and he felt dangerously on the verge of it. He clenched his fists, letting out a whine as Kirishima added another finger. He could feel Kirishima’s balls bouncing against him, his cock sliding between his ass cheeks, the thick drops of precome slipping against him as he rammed himself against Kirishima. “I don’t want you to compliment me. I just want you to tear me apart. God, fuck me, Ei. Need your dick in me so bad. Fucking desecrate me –”

“When I’m done with you,” Kirishima said, and his fingers left Bakugou, making him growl with displeasure. Kirishima’s hands were on his hips in an instant, though, flipping them back over so that Bakugou’s face was pressed against the mattress, Kirishima’s mouth hovered close to his ear. “You’ll need Recovery Girl to fix you up before you go back to work.”

”Shit.” His fingers curled into the sheets as he panted, his chest heaving with each labored breath that pushed itself free from his lungs. He could feel Kirishima’s warmth against him, the tip of his cock pressing teasingly at his rim and just barely slipping in. He bit down on his thumb to muffle his scream. His fingers were popping with tiny explosions ready to go off.

“Yeah? You like when I toss you around like this?” Kirishima bit down on his shoulder, and he moaned, dragging his cock over the rough sheets just to have some sort of release. He was so, so wet, lying in a puddle of his own fluids.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, as Kirishima’s hand came up to rest on his neck, further pushing his head against the bed. He felt like he could barely breathe, and his mind was growing foggy. Kirishima rocked gently against him, not giving him the satisfaction he desired, and he just knew he was enjoying it.

And Bakugou, to his own sick realization, decided that he liked the torture of it all too. It would make it that much better when he finally got to come.

He let out a weak sob anyway as Kirishima slowly pushed himself in, then pulled back out. His big, rough hands closed around Bakugou’s waist, his thumbs drawing soothing circles at the base of his spine. He felt hot, the tingle in his stomach tracing its way down his back and into his thighs. He was so close, and he’d barely even been penetrated.

“I’m – gonna fucking – kill you,” he said through clenched teeth, grinding his ass back against Kirishima. “I’m gonna fucking kill you if you don’t put your cock inside me right –”

Kirishima shoved himself inside of Bakugou in one fluid motion, bottoming out on the first thrust as Bakugou bit his hand to stop the loud, shameful moan that tore from his throat. Distantly, he thought he heard someone in the room next to them banging on the wall, but he was more focused on the sound of Kirishima’s voice, deep and low next to his ear.

“Shit shit shit oh my god Katsuki you feel so, so good oh shit. Oh god, you’re so tight. Feels so good. You’re so good, Katsuki –”

“Move.”

Kirishima leaned over him, brushing sweaty blonde hair from his neck as he placed a soft, tender kiss there, and Bakugou squeezed his eyes shut against his tears. Kirishima had no right to be that sweet and gentle with him. Not when they were on opposing sides.

Not after he left.

“Are you okay?” Kirishima asked, because despite everything, he was still Kirishima, and he was kind and he was thoughtful and he always put Bakugou’s needs first, except for when he fucked off into the unknown for two years.

Bakugou managed to nod, though he couldn’t make his mouth work, and he wanted to yell at him, wanted to fight, but all of the fight left him as Kirishima’s hands closed around his, forcing him to let go of the bedsheets as their fingers intertwined. He lifted a hand to his mouth, pressed a kiss over his knuckles, then slid into him again. It took him a few thrusts, but he finally found his rhythm, and Bakugou pushed his hips back to meet him each time. He went slow, staying shallow at first and then delving deeper and pulling whine after pitiful whine from Bakugou’s lips. He was shuddering, trembling, barely able to hold himself upright as Kirishima pounded ruthlessly into him, still holding his hands, still treating him like he meant something to him.

"I'm--" Bakugou tried to say, but all of his breath left him as Kirishima picked up the pace, shifting Bakugou’s legs around so that he could change angles until he found --

"Fuck, Ei, oh god…" His hand lit up the mattress, burning a hole clean through it as his orgasm rolled over him. His legs were trembling with the weight of it, and his vision whited out as come dripped onto the sheets and all over his stomach and thighs. Tears stung as they rolled down his cheeks, and his body went limp, unable to move for a solid minute as Kirishima continued thrusting into him.

"Shit, Bakugou. You didn't have to light the bed on fire." He leaned forward, his lips grazing over Bakugou’s shoulders, kissing up to his tear-stained cheeks. "Did you need me that bad?"

Bakugou squeezed his eyes shut, nodding, and finally his strength came back to him. He jerked himself away from Kirishima, who let out a startled whine, and he flipped over onto his back, his hands roughly grabbing at Kirishima’s shoulders and pulling him on top. Their lips crashed together in a violent, needy kiss that tasted strangely metallic, and Bakugou was almost certain his mouth was bleeding but didn't care as he wrapped his legs around Kirishima’s waist, pulling him even closer with a whine. They were practically tangled together, limbs indistinguishable from one another, and still it wasn't enough. Kirishima’s hands traveled over Bakugou’s body as he kissed him, his lips descending to his neck as he pushed back into him, his rhythm sloppy and erratic now as he chased his own climax. Bakugou’s fingers tangled in his hair, his heel dug into his spine, and he realized very suddenly that he was aching, but it was a good kind of ache. The best kind of ache.

"Do you want me to pull out?" Kirishima asked, and Bakugou shook his head, his legs wrapping tighter, trapping him as Kirishima let out a soft moan and released himself inside of Bakugou.

They stared at one another as Kirishima rode out his orgasm. His face was a soft shade of pink, his hair fell messily into his wide, lustful eyes, and as he leaned forward to kiss Bakugou, a hot coil of shame snapped in Bakugou's stomach, snaking its way into his chest and making it hard to breathe. The realization of what he had done slammed into him with the force of a bullet train, and he jerked away, unable to meet Kirishima’s eyes.

It was wrong. Everything he had done today was wrong.

And he had never wanted to be so wrong in his life.

When Kirishima finally pulled out of him, he pressed a soft kiss to Bakugou’s cheek and got up to get towels to clean up their mess. Bakugou, on weak and shaky limbs, crawled up to the pillows and fell onto them, the exhaustion finally catching up to him again. Warm come dripped down the back of his thighs and smeared across the sheets. He didn't care. Maybe he needed to keep a reminder of his sins in plain view. All Might would never do this. Fucking Deku or Half and Half wouldn't do shit like this.

"Are you okay?" Kirishima asked.

Bakugou was curled into himself, facing away from Kirishima as he ran a wet towel over his skin, but he could feel the dip of the bed where he sat next to him. He shivered, pulling the dirty sheets over his naked body. He wasn't sure why the thought occurred to him then, as Kirishima so carefully took care of him like he always did, but his lips moved before he could think too much on it.

"What did you do with Taiyo?"

He heard the intake of breath, his hand hesitating against Bakugou’s back. "What happened to Taiyo?" he asked, voice shaking.

Bakugou rubbed his eyes. He needed water. He needed food. He needed sleep. "Don't pretend. Taiyo was kidnapped. It had to have been you."

"That's a pretty heavy accusation."

"Yeah. What did you do?"

Another long pause. "I don't have Taiyo."

Bakugou rolled his eyes. "That's not what I asked. What did you do with him?"

"I never had him, Bakugou. I swear. If he was kidnapped --" He could feel Kirishima's hand trembling against him, but he couldn't find it in his heart to feel sorry for him. Because he didn't believe him. He couldn't believe anything he said anymore. He couldn't even believe that this had meant something when it was so clearly just a bunch of pent-up rage coming out.

"Fuck off," he hissed. "I'm going to sleep. I don't want to see you when I wake up."

Kirishima didn't answer for a long moment, and Bakugou sat there brewing in his own anger, the flames burning brighter by the second. He almost flipped over to yell at him, maybe kick him if he had the strength to, but he was caught off guard when Kirishima pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. His breath caught, and he lay there, frozen for a long moment as a dozen different emotions flooded through him, awakening his nerves all over again. Without even thinking, he reached up and took Kirishima’s hand, dragging him close.

"Stay with me," he whispered. "Until I fall asleep."

He didn't see Kirishima nod, but he felt the slight squeeze to his hand as he crawled into bed beside him. He stared at the wall, heavy air trapped in his lungs as Kirishima draped an arm over his waist and pulled him against his chest. He could feel his heart beating out of control, and he fell asleep to the sound of its loud, melodic song.

Chapter Text

He wasn't surprised to wake up the next day and find himself alone in the motel room. What was surprising, however, was that someone was banging on his door, and when he awoke, it was with a pounding headache and a really foul mood.

Still, it was the most rest he had gotten in weeks. He felt like he could take on whatever the world decided to toss at him today.

"Hey!" a man shouted from the other side of the door. "I'm all booked up, and you only paid for one night. Checkout was an hour ago. Wake the hell up and get out!"

"Fucking shit," Bakugou hissed, rubbing his temples as the sound of the knocking drove needles into his skull. "Give me a minute, damn it!"

"You got five minutes before I'm breaking this door down."

Jesus. What kind of place had Kirishima dragged him to? A place where no one would question them, he was sure. A place with no security, no watchful eyes.

And then it struck him. As he sat up in bed, blinking against the late morning sunshine, the realization hit him like a strike of lightning.

He told Kirishima he loved him. Then they'd come here and fucked, and he'd spent the entire night wrapped in his arms like it was just the most normal thing in the world to do.

He couldn't stop his heart from picking up speed as the guilt and shame settled over him. He stumbled out of bed, cursing the pain throbbing through his entire body, and rushed to the bathroom where he had left his phone.

Fifteen missed calls from Inoue.

Five from Deku.

Three from Kaminari.

One from Takahashi.

Eight voicemails.

Fifty-six text messages.

Fuck.

He opened his text messages first, scrolling through them until one caught his eye.

Deku (17:47): hey, we had that interview together today, remember? We waited for you, but no one could get in touch with you, so I did it alone. Ochako and I dropped by your apartment afterward to check on you, but you weren't there. I hope everything is okay. We're all really worried about you.

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a curse. He was going to catch so much shit for this. He would never hear the end of it. As if the entire public didn't already think he was a rude, disrespectful jackass. Now Inoue would probably be working overtime trying to explain why one of the top pro heroes went missing for almost twenty-four hours when he still had duties to fulfill.

It would be even worse if they figured out the reason.

He felt like he needed to be scrubbed clean. He felt like he needed to go to a confessional. He felt like he needed to pray for forgiveness to whatever gods would listen to him. He felt...dirty. And he couldn't deny the thrum of excitement that pumped through his veins, knowing he had done something very bad, and no one else in the world knew.

Except Kirishima. And maybe the angry front desk guy.

He dressed quickly and went back to the nightstand, where Kirishima had left him bags of chips and a couple of protein bars, along with a bottle of water. He drank that first, finishing the entire thing off in record time and tossing it aside. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd properly hydrated himself.

Underneath a bag of chips, there was a folded note.

Sorry I had to leave. I guess you understand why. Being with you again was nice. I've missed you so much, Katsuki. I hope that I get to see you again soon. Hopefully not while we're at each other's throats. I've got some things I need to do, but I'll be around. You'll always be able to find me.

He ripped the note up, tossing it aside with the water bottle as he pulled his boots on. He felt sick to his stomach, and he was sure it wasn't just because he was starving. Guilt tasted bitter on his tongue.

His phone blinked with another text message, this time from Kaminari asking if he needed anything. He started to type a response, wondering if maybe he would feel better if he came clean about what had happened, then thought better of it. It would only serve to make things worse. He would be locked up, for sure. If not in jail, then an asylum. They would say he had lost his mind, that he had had some sort of mental break. He would never get to do hero work again.

And how was he supposed to overtake Deku and become number one if he was sleeping with the enemy?

He called Denki.

He picked up on the first ring. "Bakugou!" He sounded very nearly breathless. "Man, where were you yesterday? I know you had an appointment with the psychiatrist, but --"

"I got suspended."

"Oh."

Bakugou threw open the door and stomped down the hallway, not bothering to close it. If the front desk guy was going to be an asshole, then he would be an asshole too. "Just for a week. For recovery or whatever."

"But you disappeared! Midoriya was looking for you, and Inoue, and Takahashi --"

"The only reason they were looking for me was because they needed something from me. Otherwise it wouldn't have mattered."

Kaminari was silent on the other line. Bakugou could hear his breathing, sort of fast and raspy. He pushed open the door of the front lobby and stormed outside into the cool afternoon air. He was on the other side of town, the farthest away from his apartment that he could get from prying eyes.

"That's not true," Kaminari finally said. "We're all really worried about you. And when they told me you weren't at your apartment, I kind of freaked. We went out looking for you but had no idea where you were. We were afraid."

Bakugou rolled his eyes. "Afraid of what? I'm fine."

The sidewalk he walked down was completely deserted. All of the buildings looked broken down and abandoned, or otherwise lacked the proper care they deserved. He passed a convenience store where a man leaned against the wall smoking a cigarette and staring at him intently. He kept his eyes down, for once in his life not looking for a fight.

"We were afraid you ran off like Kirishima did," Kaminari said.

"Tch. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not a fucking coward."

"Bakugou…" His voice sounded pleading, desperate, and Bakugou paused, waiting for whatever his next words were going to be. "I think something went wrong with him. I think there were signs, and all of us just kept ignoring it until it built up and he snapped."

"So you're saying it's our fault that he couldn't handle the life he signed up for? He damn well knew what he was getting into, and he walked away from it anyway."

"I think you're saying a lot of things because you're mad, but...Bakugou, man, you were always so confident. You didn't care what anyone thought about you. You grew up knowing you were the best, and you didn't let anyone tell you different. People like me and Kirishima -- and hell, even Hitoshi -- didn't have it easy like you. I was too dumb, Kirishima was too insecure, Hitoshi was too scary." He paused, sucking in a breath, and blew out a frustrated sigh. "They don't go after you because they can't find your weaknesses. But they know mine. And they knew Kirishima’s too."

Bakugou chewed at his thumbnail, a nasty habit that he had picked up recently, and leaned against the wall of what appeared to be an old ballet studio. "One of Eijirou's little minions told me that society shapes villains. That they basically decide who's going to be what at birth based on their Quirk. But I just don't think that's true. Shinsou was called a villain his entire life, and now he's in the top twenty pro heroes."

"Yeah, but he really had to fight for that. And there's still a lot of people on the Commission that don't really trust him. Like today, he told me that he had a meeting with one of the board members, and she kept asking him if he was brainwashing her every time he asked her a damn question. They always think he's up to something."

Bakugou didn't really know what to say to that. He looked up at the sky, squinting against the sun, then let his head fall back against the wall. He was aching all over. His legs were barely even able to hold him up. "That sucks," he finally said.

"Uh-huh. Everything sucks right now. But we'll get through it, right?" He perked up, his voice lighter than it had been the entire conversation. That was the guy Bakugou knew. But it was fake. Every bit of it. He wasn't an idiot. "So are you gonna tell me where you've been? Were you out drinking and passed out in a ditch?" He laughed, and Bakugou wished they were talking in person so he could punch him.

"Shut the fuck up. That only happened one time, and you were fucking plastered too."

"Hey, I'm not judging!" His laughter faded, and he cleared his throat, meaning there was probably something more serious coming now. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Depends."

"Okay. So...have you been seeing Kirishima? If you don't wanna tell me, that's fine, I guess. I just...I would like to see him too, you know?"

The sound of his voice made Bakugou’s skin crawl. He squeezed his eyes shut, not knowing how the hell he was supposed to answer that question because yeah, he would be pissed if someone was keeping Kirishima from him, like Ashido did, but he couldn't tell the truth either. He wondered if it would make him feel better, for someone to know what he had done, or if it would only cause more chaos and confusion. It wasn't as if he thought Kaminari would run off to the Commission and tattle on him, but if they said exactly the right thing and made the right threats, then Kaminari would have no choice but to spill. And Bakugou didn't think he could live knowing that his pro hero career ended because he slept with a wanted criminal.

Because he wanted to do it again.

"Bakugou?"

"No, I haven't. I mean, only when he's fucking murdering people."

Silence. He knew he wasn't a convincing liar. He never had been. If anyone ever accused him of not telling the truth, he blew up, and that was usually a pretty good indicator that he had something to hide.

"Okay," Kaminari said, and he could tell by the tone of his voice that he didn't believe him. "Next time you go out looking for him though, can I come with you?"

"I don't really think --"

"Please? I just...I need to know that he's still here. That he's still Kirishima. I'm not saying we arrest him! But...I mean, what else are we supposed to do?"

Bakugou shook his head, then realized Kaminari could not see him. "I don't know."

"Maybe if we just talk to him…"

"Talking isn't gonna solve our problems. It's too late for that."

He could feel the tension between them, and he wondered if Kaminari would blow up on him again. He had been doing a lot of that lately. It was very uncharacteristic of him. Bakugou would never admit it out loud, but he was almost scared to ask what had changed.

He knew, of course. To some extent, he knew, and he couldn't ask because then he would feel guilty. Guilty for not seeing the warning signs, for ignoring all of the shit they were putting Kirishima through.

But he would also feel guilty if he lost someone else to a mental breakdown, so maybe he should ask. Just to make sure…

"Are you and Shinsou okay?"

"Sure, yeah! We're great! Never better." The strain in his voice told more than his words. He had never been a very good liar either. "Why? Did someone say something?"

"No, it's just --" His phone vibrated against his face, and he pulled it away to see a message from Ashido. A link to an article. Then another text message: just a bunch of exclamation points and question marks.

His heart slipped from his chest into his stomach as he clicked on the link.

"Did you just get a message from Mina?" Kaminari asked.

"Uh-huh."

It was taking forever to load. There was hardly any signal in this part of town. He looked around wildly, half expecting someone to be watching him, but he was completely alone except for a few people a block away going in and out of a store.

"Holy shit," Kaminari said, more an exhale of breath than anything, barely audible. "Bakugou, do you see it?"

"Hold on." He tapped his phone screen in frustration, wanting to slam it against the wall, but he held back. Finally, it started to load, and he saw a picture of Yaoyorozu slowly starting to load. Not just Yaoyorozu. The useless guy from class B he could never remember the name of.

It was an article announcing their engagement.

"Uh." He wasn't exactly sure what else he was supposed to say. As far as he knew, Yaoyorozu and Jirou had been dating off and on since graduation. No one had ever told him about this guy.

"Yeah," Kaminari said, and he didn't say anything else either. Because neither of them knew how to comment on it.

"What about --"

"I don't know. I mean...according to the Commission, Jirou's dating me. Those stories are starting to catch on. I just...wow, this is so sudden!"

Bakugou stared at the picture looking back at him. Yaoyorozu looked just as put together as she normally did, her dark hair down and curled. She wore a fancy red dress and a white shawl, looking as if she was walking the red carpet instead of announcing her engagement. She smiled, but it looked like one of those smiles that models put on for photoshoots, the ones that were almost real, but there was something not quite right about it. The B guy held her hand up in front of them, flashing a ridiculously expensive ring to the camera that Bakugou knew his low-level weak ass couldn't afford.

This was all a stunt. He just couldn't figure out how or why.

"What a fucking embarrassment," Bakugou finally said. "They couldn't find someone better for her?"

"They didn't even publish any stories about them dating. This just came out of nowhere."

It's all for publicity, Bakugou kept telling himself, but it didn't stop the sick, sort of dizzy feeling that made him feel like he was spinning out into nothing. Because how many times did they try to pull this shit with Kirishima while Bakugou just kept looking the other way? He kept himself totally focused on his hero work, not caring that the Commission and their league of media platforms kept spreading rumors like they were all celebrities instead of the people that fucking saved them.

"Why did she agree to this shit?" Bakugou asked. He had grown to respect Yaoyorozu, as much as he could possibly respect any of his former classmates. She’d proven herself time and time again when they teamed up on missions. She had a brain, unlike some of these heroines that the Commission purposely dumbed down for the male gaze. Disgusting. And now, they were reducing her into...into an oven, basically. That's all Quirk marriages were, really. No matter how powerful a woman was to them, she was still just there to pop out little goblins that would be stronger than she was.

"There's no way they can enforce this," Bakugou said. "Are they not worried about the Quirk singularity shit they've been talking about? They keep on popping powerful babies out, they'll make it happen on their own. Then we're all fucked."

Kaminari sighed. "You think all that's true?"

Bakugou leaned his head against the wall, staring across the street at absolutely nothing. "I don't know."

They sat in comfortable silence for a long time. He knew he should probably hang up and get back to his apartment to start his "recovery" process, but he found that he didn't want to be alone on his walk. He allowed his feet to carry him, instinctively, toward the city while his mind sped off in other directions.

"Hey, I just got an email," Kaminari said, once Bakugou had reached an area where there was at least a little bit of life. "It's an invitation to the engagement party tonight."

Bakugou hissed in a breath and stopped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk, causing a woman to slam into him. She glared as she hurried past, but he didn't pay much attention. "They're moving a little fast, aren't they? No lead-up, invitations immediately after the article dropped. When do you think the wedding is? Next week?"

"I think I should call Jirou," Kaminari said, his voice no longer able to maintain that upbeat tone. He sounded genuinely worried. "I'll talk to you later? Or see you tonight, I guess."

Bakugou opened his email and stared at the invitation he had received. The party would be held at the Yaoyorozu estate.

"Yeah. See you tonight."

He stopped at a supermarket at the end of the block and bought a pack of cigarettes. He had never smoked a day in his life, but he thought now was as good a time as any to start.

Chapter Text

"Marry me, Katsuki."

"Shut the hell up. You're drunk."

"Yeah, maybe, but that doesn't mean anything! Come on! There's that little place downtown that will do the wedding immediately. We don't even have to tell anyone! We'll elope!"

Bakugou looked down at Kirishima, his head resting on his lap, his hand drawing slow circles over his jaw. He had stripped off his suit jacket and his tie a long time ago, and his shirt would probably be next. Kirishima was famously known for getting naked when he drank.

"We just graduated, you fucking moron," Bakugou hissed, swatting Kirishima’s hand away from his face. Kirishima laughed, pawing at him like a cat might play with a toy. "I'm not getting married. One milestone at a time, okay? We haven't even gotten our first solo hero work."

Kirishima lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "Yeah, but that's for tomorrow. Right now, I just wanna be with you forever."

Bakugou rolled his eyes, gazing up at the stars twinkling down above their class. Everyone else was sitting by the fountain at the Yaoyorozu estate or splashing through the water or dancing in celebration, while Kirishima was over here blabbering complete and utter nonsense as Bakugou tried to avoid human interaction. He was starting to think he might turn in early and let someone else take Kirishima home.

"You don't wanna be with me forever?" Kirishima asked, poking his lip out in a pout.

Oh shit. Phase two. He might start crying soon. At this point, he started taking offense to everything, which was just fucking great because Bakugou was not letting him drag him into a marriage just so his feelings wouldn't get hurt.

"Yeah, okay? But that doesn't mean we have to get married. Are you fucking insane?"

"Insanely in love with you." He booped Bakugou’s nose and took a long sip from his bottle. When it was empty, he sat up and started unbuttoning his shirt. "It's really hot. Are you not hot? Of course you are, I mean look at you, but are you not hot?"

Bakugou sighed, grabbing Kirishima’s hands before he could strip anymore of his clothes off. There were parents here. And teachers. And pro heroes. And members of the Commission. "Keep your clothes on," he hissed.

"Why?" Kirishima asked, smirking as he leaned in to brush his nose against Bakugou’s. "So you can take them off later tonight?"

"You," Bakugou growled, dragging Kirishima close until their lips nearly touched, "are being an extraordinary little shit right now."

"Hmm. Maybe you should punish me then."

Bakugou’s heart skipped just a little as Kirishima grinned like the asshole that he was and leaned in to kiss him. His eyes fluttered shut for only a second before someone cleared their throat to his left, and he jerked away, startled, as he looked up at the man standing beside them. He didn't know his name, but he was on the board at the Commission. He made lots of decisions about laws and stuff that Bakugou didn't give a shit about.

"Sorry to interrupt," the man said, his eyes falling to where Bakugou and Kirishima still held hands between them. His lips pursed into a thin line, his eyebrows furrowed. "I just wanted to congratulate the two of you on graduating."

"Oh, thanks!" Kirishima exclaimed. "I barely scraped by with all the written exam stuff, but Bakugou’s a genius, and he helped me!"

The man turned his dark eyes on Bakugou, and suddenly Bakugou felt very, very insecure about everything, and he wasn't sure why. He pulled his hands away from Kirishima and moved over, putting just a bit more space between them. "And I hear you did well both in physical and in written exams," the man said, folding his hands in front of him. "You've got an extraordinary Quirk, and an extraordinary mind, and I know that you'll go places if you fix that bad attitude of yours."

Bakugou wrinkled his nose, started to say something that might have gotten his license revoked before he even got started, but Kirishima placed a hand on his thigh, and all the fight rushed out of him. His heart was pounding. He didn't understand why he felt like he was being scrutinized, every detail about him being pulled apart and judged. He didn't like it.

"He's not so bad once you get to know him. You just need to know how to deal with it," Kirishima said. Bakugou wasn't sure how he was speaking so coherently right now. Two minutes ago he was slurring so badly that no one who didn't encounter him on a regular basis would have been able to understand.

The man's eyes slid down to Kirishima’s hand, resting on Bakugou’s thigh, and if possible, his frown grew deeper. "How long have the two of you been together?"

"Two years!" Kirishima exclaimed, sticking up two fingers and grinning like this was the proudest fact about him. "We're getting married --"

"No, we're not," Bakugou cut in, before the rumor mill got a chance to spread misinformation. "Just moving in together, starting an agency."

"That's awfully...presumptuous of you, starting an agency right out of U.A. Don't you think?"

The longer he stood there, the more uncomfortable Bakugou felt. His skin was practically crawling. He should have left when he had the chance. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Who's going to contact you? You'll be working out of a basement. Don't you think you need a little help --"

"We'll be fine, thanks. Kirishima’s nice and people like him, and I'm better than all of the other losers that graduated tonight. So yeah. We can handle ourselves."

"I'm sure you can." The sardonic tone in his voice made Bakugou want to strangle him. God, he hated old people. Why couldn't they just fuck off and let him do what he wanted? "Again, congratulations on your graduation. And your...engagement."

He walked away, and Bakugou watched him as he did, heading now toward Hagakure and Ojiro. It seemed like he just wanted to make it clear to everyone how much of an asshole he was.

He didn't have much time to think about the interaction, though, because Kirishima was turning his face toward him, and suddenly their lips were smashed together, and then nothing else really seemed to matter.

That asshole’s name had been Sano Masashi. Bakugou didn’t figure it out until later, once he started making snide comments toward Kirishima when the Commission made their rounds to check in on agencies. It wasn’t anything big, just little comments like making sure if he was going to preach manliness then he needed to play the part too, which was just completely disgusting because there was no one that better embodied that idea than Kirishima.

Bakugou didn’t pay attention. He didn’t see how they were treating him, how it was gradually growing worse and worse the higher they climbed on the hero charts, and now that he was stuck here in the aftermath of it, he was hit with the very sudden and painful thought that he should have been there, and he wasn’t. Just because it wasn’t a big deal to him didn’t mean it wasn’t slowly tearing Kirishima apart.

Still, was it worth him leaving his dream of being a pro hero behind? Was it worth it leaving Bakugou behind?

He had to get to the bottom of all this, and that started with Yaoyorozu. He would talk to her at her party, and maybe he would finally be able to see what the hell he had been missing over the years.

Sano Masashi had been the first person to bring back the idea of Quirk marriages as a widespread practice. He thought there were too many powerful heroes out there wasting away by not having children and passing on their gifts. It was archaic, it was gross.

And the idea caught on. More and more parents were discussing making deals to marry their kids off so their Quirks wouldn’t disappear. As if their weak ass Quirks were anything to care about. As if their kids were being traded for donkeys or some shit like ancient times.

Icy Hot was the product of a Quirk marriage, one of the only ones Bakugou had heard about, and he knew very few people that were as fucked up as the Todoroki children.

Of course, it wasn’t as if it had been written into law or anything. No one was forcing marriages; people had a choice. Just like Kirishima had had a choice.

And he chose to leave. And then come back into Bakugou’s life and ruin it.

He stood in the shower, letting the water wash the soap from his skin as his thoughts wandered. He was fucking sore all over, and it was all his fault. He knew how rough he and Kirishima could get with each other, and he still begged for it anyway. He kept fluctuating back and forth between wanting to kiss him and wanting to kill him, and it was the most unpleasant, uncomfortable feeling he had ever experienced in his life.

Kirishima had killed someone. One of his cronies had killed a guy who was so clearly in need of help, and he had just let it happen. He still hadn’t gotten an explanation for that, and he was starting to think Kirishima didn’t have one. He was full of shit, that’s all it was. Maybe he was right about a few things, but he was being dramatic as hell about dealing with it, which was just like him, wasn’t it? Everything had to be a fucking show.

He got out of the shower, though he still felt like every last bit of his transgressions was written across his skin. There were bruises and teeth marks across his neck and chest, bruises on his hips, scratches along his back.

Fuck, it was hot. He always loved the way he looked after a fight, all full of life and running on adrenaline. He loved it even more when Kirishima marked him up. It made him feel special in a way he couldn’t understand.

He ran his fingers over the spots on his chest, admiring the various colors, from red to pink to purple. It made him look pretty. He couldn’t stop staring, knowing that Kirishima’s mouth had been there only yesterday.

He would give anything to have his mouth on him now.

And now he had to go to this party and look his friends in the eye knowing damn well that he was still completely infatuated with their dumbass former classmate who very well might be their downfall.

His phone said it was nearing 7:30, which meant that his friends would be here any minute. Kaminari had insisted on coming to get him instead of letting him go alone.

He dressed quickly in the one and only nice suit he had, all black and sleek except for the shirt, which was light blue and hideous.

A few minutes later, he heard a knock at the door at the same time his phone rang. His stomach knotted as he pulled out his phone and assured himself that there was no one here trying to fight him. It was just his friends at the door, and Takahashi on the phone. His friends could wait.

Before he could even say anything, Takahashi said, "Your friend is at it again."

He didn't like the sharp tone of the man’s voice when he said friend. As if that was some kind of sick joke. He had to force himself to be nice. He didn't need to be kicked off the case again. "What do you mean?"

"I mean he's broken into one of the board members' houses and taken some very important things that could get us in a world of hurt if any villains see it."

"Hmm. Seems like that's already happened. Was anyone hurt?"

"No, but they will be --"

"What kind of things?"

Takahashi hesitated. There was another knock at the door, followed by Mina's voice singing his name. "I'm not at liberty to say."

Bakugou huffed and rolled his eyes. Of course. "You people really should have better security. You spend too much time watching us and not enough time worrying about yourselves."

"That might be true, but --"

"Look, no one was hurt, and if you can't tell me what I'm going after, then I'm not going right now. My friend just got engaged, you see." He made sure to put as much venom behind those words as he could, and Takahashi easily took notice of it.

"You don't seem happy about that. Shouldn't you be excited for her?"

"We'll see."

"I'm not quite sure --"

"Send someone else. I'll deal with it later."

More knocking at the door, urgent and impatient.

"Fine," Takahashi said. "Give them a headstart. Make the whole world suffer because you couldn't catch him the first two --"

"This isn't on me. Send someone else and leave me the hell alone. I'll handle it when I'm not fucking suspended."

He hung up before Takahashi could ask any more questions. In the past, he would have probably gotten more time added to his suspension for being an asshole, but he was too vital to them right now. They would want him back as soon as possible. He had the upper hand. At least for the time being.

As soon as he threw open the door to Mina, Kaminari, and Sero standing in the hallway, Mina's eyes grew wide as she yelled, "You had sex!"

"What the hell, Ashido? No, I didn't." He didn't flinch, didn't waver under her gaze. It pissed him off. She had hardly ever been intimate with anyone in her life, but she could tell when anyone else had. She figured out he and Kirishima were together before anyone else did.

"Yes, you did! You're different."

"I don't even know what the hell that means."

"Are you seeing someone now? Is it Eijirou?"

He scanned over his friends' faces, trying to read them, but they all just looked excited, and something about that didn't seem right. They shouldn't be thrilled that he was betraying their trust and doing exactly the opposite of what pro heroes were trained to do.

"That's what I thought!" Kaminari said. "Where else would you disappear to?"

"Have you ever thought that maybe I just didn't want to be around any of you for one single fucking day?"

They were silent, then Sero shook his head. "Impossible."

Bakugou blew out an exasperated breath. "I'm gonna say this once, and I'm not repeating myself. Eijirou and I are done. He fucked up, and now he has to deal with it. I would be perfectly fucking happy if I didn't have to see that asshole ever again."

Kaminari and Sero exchanged a glance that seemed to carry a very private telepathic conversation, while Mina kept her gaze on Bakugou, grinning like she knew some sort of secret and wanted someone to guess what it was.

They were morons, the whole lot of them.

"Come on," Bakugou said, rolling his eyes as he slammed the door shut. "Let's go find out what's going on with Momo."

The Yaoyorozu estate was decorated just as beautifully as it always was for holidays and celebrations. The garden in the back had fresh cut flowers that should not have been blooming this time of year, painting the scenery with pinks and oranges and purples. A dance floor, perfectly shined, was laid out on the grass, and a tent was set up over it and strung with brightly colored lanterns that flickered blue and yellow flames in the dark night. Tables were set up all around, and music blared at top volume from where the DJ was set up at the front. Waiters scurried around offering appetizers and champagne.

It was all extremely over the top and wildly discomforting.

"Tooru!" Mina exclaimed at the sight of her best friend and former roommate, and she wasted no time breaking from the group to run across the dance floor like she had absolutely no manners. Hagakure screamed excitedly, and Mina tackled her in a hug that nearly toppled them to the ground. Ojiro stood awkwardly next to them like a third wheel.

They had barely been there for five minutes, and Bakugou wanted to go home. Parties were not his thing to begin with, but this was just a shit show. Most of their former class and class B were already there, as well as a few pro heroes and some members of the Commission. It was such short notice that it was surprising anyone showed up at all. There was absolutely no warning for this.

"Is Jirou here?" Bakugou asked.

Kaminari shook his head. "Nah, she said she wasn't coming."

"Did she say anything else?"

Kaminari shrugged as he tied his hair up in a ponytail. "Not really. She just said it was what was best for now. She and Momo are gonna keep seeing each other, and Awase is totally cool with that."

So it was all a publicity stunt. But for what? What the hell were they planning on saying after the wedding when the two of them didn't have kids? Or was that all part of the plan too?

The whole ordeal made him sick to his stomach.

"Where's Shinsou?" he asked as they made their way to an empty table far away from the dance floor.

"On patrol," Kaminari replied, the skip in his step suddenly disappearing as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "He said he would try to stop by later if we were still here."

Bakugou eyed him warily. He seemed okay, but there was something in his eyes that definitely didn't belong. Something dark, something sad.

"Check it out," Sero said, pulling a bag out of his coat pocket. "If this party gets too lame, I've got just the thing to liven it up."

Bakugou looked down at the bag of joints he was holding and wrinkled his nose. "You're a fucking idiot. Did you pass your drug test?"

"Nope! But they just gave me a penalty and told me to do better."

Unbelievable. The entire world was run by absolute fucking morons.

They started to sit down, but Deku was on them before Bakugou could even pull out his chair. Sero scrambled to put the bag back in his jacket before Iida, who was right behind him, got too close.

"Kacchan! You weren't at the radio interview yesterday!" he exclaimed.

Bakugou ignored him as best he could as he sat down next to Kaminari. "Uh-huh."

"Why? They were so disappointed! Everyone was so excited to meet you." He was practically vibrating out of his own skin. His bright green eyes were about to pop out of his head. "You didn't answer any of my messages or calls! I was really worried --"

"I'm suspended, dumbass. I can't do anything."

Iida, standing slightly behind Deku, frowned and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Suspended or not, you still have responsibilities to the public --"

"Don't you fucking dare talk to me about responsibilities," Bakugou hissed. The tone of his voice was enough to make Iida at least take a step back. "You're not our class rep anymore; you don't get a fucking say in what's right and wrong or what we should or shouldn't be doing. If I don't want to see Deku’s ugly fucking face over my suspension, then I shouldn't have to."

Deku’s jaw dropped. Even after all these years, he still got all shaky when Bakugou insulted him. "Kacchan --"

"Don't Kacchan me. I didn't even wanna do the fucking interview in the first place."

Iida's frown, if possible, grew deeper, his eyebrows drawing together in the middle and giving him the appearance of a man much older than twenty-one. "When you get out of your suspension, we need to have a meeting about this Red Fury business. If we're going to work together --"

"We're not working together."

"--then we'll have to collaborate on what we all know. Tokoyami got called in to take care of the case you turned down tonight. Hopefully we'll be able to apprehend a few more members. Their numbers are gradually decreasing, which is good. We'll have them in no time."

Bakugou raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, throwing a leg up on the table. Iida pursed his lips like he was holding back from scolding him and just barely containing it. "Whatever. We'll have a meeting. But I don't give a shit about that right now. Our good friend Momo just got engaged. We shouldn't be talking business."

Iida glared at him. Bakugou could swear that he saw a vein bulging in his forehead. They never could quite see eye to eye, and being on the same case didn't help matters. "Fine," Iida said. "See you next week for the meeting then."

He stomped off before he could go into a tangent, and Bakugou smiled and waved him away, flipping him off as he turned his back.

Deku, unfortunately, was still standing at the table, and Sero looked sweaty from guilt like he thought Deku actually cared about the drugs in his pocket.

"I hope everything is okay," Deku said, his voice soft and sincere. "If you need anything, you can just ask. I'll help you."

Bakugou pushed on the table, rocking back in his chair as he rolled his eyes. "Tch. I'm fine. Get the fuck out of here."

Deku looked hesitant, but he nodded and scurried off like a puppy that had just been kicked, which was just fine because Bakugou didn't want to look at him anyway. He had everything so easy, being the number one hero and all. And being with Uraraka. The public adored them. They were the fucking gold standard of hero couples.

Fuck them.

"This is such bullshit," he said, slamming his hand into the table. Sero must have been zoned out, because he jumped. "You two should be on the case with me, not Four Eyes and the pigeon. I don't need them. Who the hell do they think they are, pairing me with such useless nobodies? They didn't even fucking know him. Not like we did."

Kaminari let out a shaky breath. He looked very small, like he was trying to hide himself. "Can we not talk about this right now? I mean, it's a party! We should be having fun!" Sero nodded vigorously in agreement.

"There will be plenty of time for fun at actual engagement parties," Bakugou grumbled under his breath as he scanned the crowd. No sign of Yaoyorozu, which was just fine. He would get his chance to talk to her just like everyone else.

A waiter stopped by their table and offered them glasses of champagne. Kaminari grabbed the whole tray and waved him away. They all had their first glass downed in seconds.

"Well," Sero said as he loosened the bow tie he had on, "I think I'm gonna go mingle. Maybe look for Todoroki."

Bakugou watched him as he stood and walked away, disappearing into the ever growing crowd on the dance floor. There were tons of people there he didn't even recognize, maybe lots of Yaoyorozu and Awase's family. Mt. Lady was on the dance floor showing off party tricks and attracting a large crowd of onlookers.

It didn't make sense to him. Why would they put Yaoyorozu with some lower level pro when Icy Hot was right there? He was the obvious choice. Both of their families were notable, and the engagement would attract more attention. There were hundreds of online fans who wanted them together anyway. They were always asked about it in interviews because people had no idea how to respect boundaries. They treated heroes like they were entirely separate entities, incapable of feeling the same human emotions that they felt.

But that was an entirely different discussion. Right now, Bakugou just needed to get to the bottom of this publicity stunt. Maybe then he could start to understand what exactly had gone wrong.

"Come on," he said, grabbing Kaminari by the arm and jerking him from his seat. Kaminari spit out his drink as more champagne sloshed out of his glass, but he did not protest being dragged across the dance floor through the masses.

"Where are we going?" he asked. "I wanted some food --"

"Don't you wanna know what the hell is going on here?"

Kaminari frowned, a flash of confusion washing over him. "It's just a publicity stunt. They'll probably call off the engagement in a couple of months and come up with some new story to spin to keep people's attention."

"Yeah, but people get hurt in the process of doing all that shit," Bakugou said, pushing past an elderly couple chatting together.

"Huh. Didn't think you cared that much."

"I don't! I just…" He squeezed Kaminari’s arm, not even realizing he was still holding it. "I need to understand. They treat this like it's all some sort of game, some narrative they can just make up when they're tampering with real people's lives. We're not celebrities, we're fucking heroes. Our job is to save people, not to entertain them. That's what actors are for."

Kaminari bit down on his lip and didn't say anything for a very long time. They were in the middle of the dance floor staring at one another as couples danced around them to some slow pop song. "If you were wondering, they haven't said much to me," Kaminari finally said. "They haven't pitched any ideas for publicity stunts. They're just spinning stories."

"And you're okay with that?"

Kaminari shrugged. "I guess...I mean, it's whatever. Let's just find Ashido and Sero and go smoke. It'll take your mind off things."

Bakugou rubbed at his temple. All of this was starting to give him a headache. He hated bold faced lies just to get attention. What the hell kind of life was that to live? Hiding the truth, giving the public what they wanted instead of what you wanted.

Kirishima told him he needed to stop thinking about what he should or shouldn't be doing and start thinking about what he wanted to be doing. And right now, he wanted to be in some gross, seedy hotel room getting fucked senseless by his criminal ex-boyfriend knowing damn well that he was breaking every single rule in the book.

No one had to know.

"Ashido!" Kaminari called, waving to their friend across the dance floor. She looked up from her conversation with Hagakure and smiled, and Kaminari immediately scurried over to her, not bothering to check if Bakugou was following.

He did, of course. He didn't want to be around all these people, and if he couldn't be with Kirishima, the next best thing would be to hang out with his friends. Tsu stopped him to say hello, but he didn't linger because he thought Iida and Deku might be close to her, and the last thing he wanted was to see them again.

"Hagakure and Ojiro are gonna come with us, if that's okay," Mina said, taking her best friend by her invisible hand. "I wonder when Momo and Awase will make their appearance?"

It was like she was magical. As soon as they started to sneak off toward the hedge maze away from the crowd, the lights flickered, and the DJ's loud voice boomed across the dance floor, announcing the heir of the Yaoyorozu fortune and her new fiance. The crowd exploded into cheers as the couple descended the spiral steps of the house, Awase leading her down like she was some delicate, fragile thing that might break if she fell. She looked like a goddess, as always, with her floor-length black gown and her golden jewelry. It almost looked like she was glowing. Bakugou wouldn't be able to tell she was putting on an act if he didn't know her personally. It was all very convincing.

"God, she's gorgeous," Mina sighed dreamily. "Jirou's really lucky."

“Yeah, and she should be the one at the party, not –” Bakugou gestured vaguely at the class B guy. He’d forgotten his name already.

Mina shrugged, smiling a little sadly. “Yeah, but I mean…we’ll get there one day, right? Come on, let’s let the two of them mingle, and we’ll catch up with them later, okay?” She took Bakugou’s hand, gently trying to lead him away. He was hesitant at first, watching as Mt. Lady wrapped her arms around Momo and pulled her into a tight hug. Cameras flashed all around them. The pictures would be up on gossip sites within minutes. Damn it, he hated gossip sites.

He let Mina lead him away with the rest of their friends, only glancing over his shoulder once to see their former classmates swarming Yaoyorozu like she was a damn movie star and they were all begging for autographs. She showed off her ring. More cameras flashed. No one noticed the six of them sneaking away to the hedge maze.

They sat around the massive fountain and smoked, letting the chilly night air wash over them as they talked about absolutely nothing. Admittedly, it did help with Bakugou’s nerves, and he felt his muscles relaxing and all of the tension rolling out of his body as he lay down on the edge of the fountain and stared up at the stars. They weren’t as visible in the city as they were out here.

“So get this,” Hagakure said, propping herself up on her elbow and passing the joint to Sero. “Yesterday Mashirao and I went to get pedicures –”

“Tooru –” Ojiro whined.

“What? What is wrong with wanting nice looking feet? Anyway, so I’ve got my feet in the foot bath, right, and I can feel this person sort of looking at us. So I look over, and there’s this man sitting there –” She coughed as Sero exhaled smoke directly in her face and laughed. “Oh my god let me finish my story! So this guy gets up and he comes over to Mashirao, and he’s like, ‘These are the nicest feet I’ve ever seen!’ in this really deep, gruff voice, right? And Mashi is like, ‘Thanks but please leave me alone,’ and it turns out that this guy can change his appearance a little bit, and sometimes he sneaks in and takes pictures of people’s feet. Like, what the hell is that?”

“A foot fetish,” Mina said, blowing out smoke as she practically did a backbend to pass the joint off to Kaminari.

Hagakure giggled ridiculously and poked at Ojiro’s face. “Aww, Mashi! You have pretty feet!”

“Tooru –”

She broke off into a coughing and laughing fit, the sound of it swelling in the air and spreading like a plague as the others around him started to laugh as well. Bakugou glanced over at Ojiro, who was beet red but still chuckling, and Hagakure held him close, her hands wrapped around his tail as smoke filled the air.

“Pretty bold of us to be smoking with so many Commission people here,” Ashido said, stretching out like a cat across Kaminari’s lap and closing her eyes.

“Oh, shit,” Sero hissed under his breath, as if he had somehow forgotten that he had already been penalized for drug use. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna get suspended –” He stood up really quickly, which must have startled Kaminari as he jumped and fell off the edge of the fountain straight into the freezing water, dragging Mina down with him.

Bakugou rolled away just in time to miss the gigantic splash that landed on Hagakure and Ojiro, and the invisible girl’s squeals filled the air.

“Damn it, Denki!” Mina exclaimed as she stood up in the fountain, shivering from head to toe. Her purple dress clung to her skin, and her hair drooped over her eyes. Kaminari tried to stand up next to her, but she pushed him back down, sending another spray of cold water up into the air.

Despite his better judgment, Bakugou found himself laughing too as his friends started to pile into the fountain, chasing each other in circles and splashing around. The music from the party drifted through the air, thrumming through Bakugou’s veins. He felt at peace here as he watched them, and suddenly Sero was holding his hand out to him, and he was being dragged into the fountain as well, falling into water that froze him to the bone. He laughed amongst the commotion, surrounded by the sounds of his friends’ delighted screams and the waterfall splashing down on them, and nothing really seemed to matter as they chased each other just as freely as if they were kids and didn’t have to worry about what tomorrow would bring.

It took longer than necessary for them to notice the screams. Ojiro was the first to stop amidst their play, his tail flicking back and forth like a cat that was on guard. “Do you guys hear –”

“Oh my god!” Hagakure shouted, pointing toward the party. Bakugou looked up to see smoke curling up into the darkness as a loud, explosive noise rocked the world around them. Bright orange flames erupted over the top of the hedge maze, and more screams tore through the air.

Like any good heroes would do, they immediately ran toward the chaos.

Chapter Text

At first, it was hard to tell what was going on. Bakugou’s mind was sluggish as it was, and it seemed like the entire world was moving both very fast and very slow all around him. He lost his friends somewhere in the midst of the commotion, so he was left to try to fend for himself as the partygoers pushed and shoved one another around, trying to flee the scene as quickly as possible as another explosion shook the tent. There were flames everywhere, devouring the tent and the tables and the beautiful flowers, and smoke obscured his vision as he tried to process what was happening. He had never had to deal with a crisis while he was high, and this was a fucking nightmare.

As far as he could tell, no one was hurt. The only people that ended up on the ground were the ones that were shoved to their knees by the stampeding crowd, and there were already heroes in action trying to keep the situation under control as they escorted people to the nearest exit points. He could see Tsu in his peripheral vision hopping through the crowd, her tongue lashing out to snatch anyone who was in danger of being stomped into the ground. Shouji was picking up people with his extra arms and hustling them out of the area like a football player. Everywhere he looked, he could see his former classmates and pro heroes moving and being useful members of society while he stood there trying to discern what was going on and what he needed to do. He was better than this, he knew, but he couldn’t make his mind work or his body move. There were villains and heroes clashing everywhere, in close proximity with no attack or defense plan. It was an absolute shitshow. He couldn’t even tell who was causing what in the blur of the crowd.

It wasn’t until he caught a flash of someone blending into the scenery that he pieced the puzzle together.

Chameleon Man. The Red Fury.

Kirishima was here.

He scanned the crowd again, his heart pumping at an unbelievable rate. Everything was swirling around him. Fuck, why did he decide it would be a good idea to smoke with his friends? And why the hell had he let them drag him into the water? He was freezing, and his clothes clung to his skin uncomfortably, making it difficult for him to move in the ways he needed to.

Kirishima told him that he didn’t want to hurt people. Well, what the hell was this? His group of fucking delinquents were attacking, and they were holding up fairly well in a fight. People were going to get hurt. There was no preventing that.

He stepped forward into the crowd, fighting against the fog currently rolling through his brain. People pushed and fought to get to the front of the line, to find a hero to help them. Thankfully, there were plenty around.

But no Kirishima. He was absolutely certain Kirishima was not out here. So did that mean…

What the hell did the Yaoyorozu family have that he wanted? Or was this just to make a statement? It made Bakugou hate himself for what he had done yesterday, for letting someone who was capable of this get to him and make him feel things he shouldn't have felt.

He made a run for the house, dodging attacks coming from left and right. It was complete chaos. He had no idea how his friends were holding up in these conditions.

At the edge of the dance floor, he ran into something. He staggered back, blinking, disoriented, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened to him when he was certain there was nothing in his way…

And then Chameleon Man popped into existence, a sinister grin drawing his lips back over sharp teeth and a long, flickering pink tongue. "Where ya going, little hero? The party's just getting started."

"Get the fuck out of my way." He tried to sidestep the man, but that stupid metal rod came out of nowhere, and Chameleon Man was swinging at his legs. If he was slow the day before, he was even slower now, his mind and body working on two different planes of existence. He was knocked to the ground, and the man threw his head back and laughed, a disgusting sound that shook through his whole body.

"Once we take care of the Commission and all their precious toys, maybe I'll keep you," he said, crouching next to Bakugou. "You'd be an excellent little pet now, wouldn't you?" He caressed Bakugou’s cheek with a rough hand, and panic swelled in Bakugou's chest as he drew back, breathing hard. "Oh, what's the matter? Don't like being touched? I'll find the right way to please you, little hero. And I'm sure you'll keep me more than satisfied."

"Get. The fuck. Away from me," Bakugou hissed, lashing out with an explosion that rocketed over the man's head and caught fire on the flaps of the tent. Damn it, the world was spinning. Chameleon Man was swirling in front of him, multiplying into two, then four people. As if he wasn't already hard enough to detect.

Explosions weren't good for close combat. He drew his arm back and punched Chameleon Man in the nose, sending a spray of blood across the dance floor.

"Bakugou!" Kaminari exclaimed from somewhere behind him. He turned his head, trying to search out his friends, but everything was moving too fast. He staggered to his feet, and suddenly someone was grabbing his arm, and Sero was there, swinging in on his tape like a fucking spider.

"Are you looking for Kirishima?" Kaminari asked. He was the one holding Bakugou, keeping him from falling over. "Go." Kaminari shoved him forward. "We can handle this jackass."

He blinked, saw Kaminari flickering and swimming before him. How the hell were they keeping up with anything? They had smoked more than he did.

He didn't question them though. It was crucial at this moment to find Kirishima, and everyone else pretty much had their hands tied.

He managed to escape with no more interruptions, and as the majority of the crowd was running the other way, no one seemed to notice that he had disappeared. He climbed the steps of the Yaoyorozu mansion, heartbeat thundering in his ears and footsteps sounding like tiny explosions. A maid stood at the door watching the scene, her eyes wide and her hand covering her mouth, but as she spotted Bakugou, she immediately threw open the door to let him in.

He skidded to a halt, water dripping from his clothes and every inch of his body feeling like TV static. "Where is he?" he demanded, and the maid stepped back, terrified, confused, her whole body trembling.

"Momo, is she okay?" she cried out, a single tear rolling over her cheek.

In all the chaos and confusion, he had forgotten why they were here in the first place. Slowly, he nodded. "She's going to be fine. She can handle herself very well."

The maid nodded solemnly. "Yes…yes, she's a smart girl."

"Did you see anyone come in here?"

Her eyes grew even wider as she shook her head. "No, is there someone inside?"

"Not sure. Don't move. I'll be back."

He wasn't sure where he was going. The estate was huge, and he had only been inside maybe two to three times. Even then, he had trouble finding his way around. The first floor was a maze of neverending rooms that opened up into even more rooms that opened up into even more rooms, and just when he had convinced himself that the house went on forever, he found himself in a small, cozy office with a gleaming wooden desk and massive bookshelves that stretched all the way to the ceiling. A few books lay on the floor, tossed aside and forgotten, and in the corner of the room, a door was cracked open just the tiniest bit to reveal a stone staircase.

Sloppy. Kirishima would have to get his shit together if he wanted to be taken seriously as a villain. Or vigilante. Whatever the hell he wanted to call himself.

He descended the steps slowly, hoping that he was as silent as he thought he was. The stairwell was dark, lit only by a lantern or two here and there like some creepy ass Gothic novel. Like the rest of the house, the staircase seemed to go on forever, spiraling into darkness so immense it felt like it was swallowing him. If there was something to hide, this would be the perfect place to do it.

Finally, the staircase ended and opened up into a narrow hallway that he could barely fit through. Clearly it was designed to keep people out. He had no idea how Kirishima had gotten through without getting stuck. There were doors on either side of the hallway, one of them padlocked shut and the other standing open. It felt like the whole of the hallway was tilting inward, closing in on him. He pushed through, reminding himself that he was high as fuck and the house wasn't going to eat him.

He could hear someone rustling around in the room. There were things being tossed to the floor, making loud thudding sounds that echoed in the darkness. He approached the door, stuck his head in slightly.

Kirishima was there, wearing nothing but a pair of dark jeans and a plaid shirt tied around his waist. Fucking hell. He had his back turned as he looked through something in a file folder.

It was as good a time to strike as any.

He rushed in headfirst, not thinking about the consequences or what the hell he was going to do if there was a fight. His arms wrapped around Kirishima’s waist, and through some unbelievable strength he didn't know he had in him at the moment, he managed to throw him to the ground. Kirishima crashed and rolled swiftly, almost able to dodge, but Bakugou was fast enough to jump on top of him and pin him down. He didn't struggle, didn't try to put up a fight. His red eyes settled on Bakugou’s face as he smiled up at him, as casually as if they were just childhood friends catching up.

"I love it when you're on top," he said, and Bakugou snapped. He wasn't even thinking as his hand wrapped around Kirishima’s throat, slamming his head into the floor.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Have you fucking lost the few brain cells you had to begin with? You send your group of convicts to go after your friends that you trained with? The people that fought by your side the whole time we were in school?" Kirishima sputtered, opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, couldn't get anything out. Bakugou slammed his head against the floor again, just enough to jar him. "Shut up. There's no fucking excuse –"

Kirishima’s hand gripped Bakugou’s that was wrapped around his throat, struggling to pull him off. His face was going a little red, his eyes watering. Bakugou eased his grip just enough to let him breathe. If he was going to kill his maniac ex-boyfriend, it wouldn't be by suffocating him.

"They're not gonna hurt anyone," Kirishima said, coughing.

"Like hell they aren't! The chameleon guy tried to fucking fight me on the way here!"

"Yeah, fight you. Not kill you." He tried to sit up, rubbing his throat, but Bakugou knocked him back down. He wasn't sure where all this strength was coming from, but he was glad he had it.

"Doesn't matter," he said. "It doesn't matter because you sent them to attack your friends –"

"Do you really think any of those people stand a chance against our classmates?" Kirishima asked. "They can handle themselves. And they had strict instructions –"

"Don't try to turn this around on me!" Bakugou jabbed a finger in his face, leaning over him so that their noses were touching. God, he wanted to kill him. "Don't try to make it sound like I don’t have faith in them while they're fighting for their lives and I'm down here stopping you from doing –" He gestured vaguely around the room. "Whatever the fuck you're doing."

"I just needed a distraction," Kirishima said. "So I could get down here."

"So you blow up the fucking place? There are civilians up there with weak Quirks or no Quirks at all –"

"I didn’t blow up anything. It was only supposed to be a raid. No fighting."

Bakugou’s lips curled into a snarl. "Well, there is fighting. Lots of it. People are going to get hurt. You've lost your fucking mind –"

"Bakugou, I swear to God no one is gonna get hurt." He took Bakugou’s hands, squeezing them gently, and Bakugou shifted, startled, a little confused, unable to pull away. The tenderness in his voice, the touch of his rough hands made it feel so sincere, like he was promising him the world. If he hadn't dealt with villains before, he would have been fooled.

"How can you guarantee that? Those people are wanted criminals, and you sent them after innocent people –"

"As a distraction."

"It's chaos up there."

"Controlled chaos."

"You can't control chaos! That's why it's called chaos!"

They stared at each other for a long time. It wasn't until Bakugou felt Kirishima’s thumb brush over his palm that he realized they were still holding hands. His racing heart slowed. Everything felt okay for just a moment. He could breathe. He could see perfectly clearly. Things made sense.

And then Kirishima opened his stupid mouth. "They know some of them might get arrested. They realize that this fight is bigger than one attack on a fake engagement party. And it's not even an attack, Katsuki. I know what I'm doing. I swear. Can you trust me?"

"Of fucking course I can't trust you." He spat the words, jerking his hands away. "What kind of dumbass question is that?"

"You know I would never do anything to hurt you. You're…" Kirishima swallowed, his lips pursed into a thin line. "You have to trust me. Please."

Bakugou tried to read his expression, but everything was still spinning. He just looked like Kirishima. Like selfless, careful, kind Kirishima. His chest hurt as he tried to breathe. "You swear no one's gonna get hurt?"

"I swear." He stuck out his pinky, the corner of his mouth curling into a smile, and Bakugou rolled his eyes. He should have blasted his hand off, but he wrapped his pinky finger around Kirishima’s anyway, and all of the fear and the rage that was battling it out inside of him subsided briefly. He took in a slow breath.

"Accidents happen, you know. The fighting could get out of hand."

"It won’t. I have an out. They’ll be safe."

Bakugou raised an eyebrow, frowning. "I don't understand how you can be so sure of that. They're wanted criminals."

"So am I."

"Yeah, and I can't trust you! Because you –" He paused, his gaze fixing on a long, thin red line tracing its way from the corner of Kirishima’s mouth down to his collarbone. It wasn't bleeding, but the wound looked fresh enough. He'd been so angry he wasn't even paying attention to it before.

"I can promise you, Bakugou, that those people are not who you think they are. And the Commission isn't what we've been led to believe."

He pressed his finger to the thin red line, and Kirishima winced. He was barely even paying attention. He'd heard the whole pitch, how villains were only villains because society said they were, blah blah blah. Nothing new. "What happened here?"

Kirishima took his hand, gently pulling it away from his face as he averted his gaze. "Wrong place at the wrong time."

"Don't give me that bullshit. Who did that? It looks…why didn't you use your Quirk?"

"I couldn't."

Bakugou blew out an exasperated breath. The room was still spinning, but he was starting to come down. He was at least thinking a little more clearly. There were too many questions to ask, too many answers he didn't have, and there wasn't enough time.

"How do you know they're not going to turn against you?" he asked.

"I don't know that. Jentry Polter – that's the guy with the chameleon Quirk, from Otheon – he was Marcus's guy. He was all about terrorizing people and making the world an unsafe place to live. He doesn't trust me at all. He thinks I'm ruining everything Marcus built. There are real villains doing real, villainous things. But that's not me."

Bakugou scoffed. "No, you just let villains pick you up off the street and manipulate you instead of coming back home to me."

Kirishima sighed softly. He let his hand fall to Bakugou’s thigh, and Bakugou flinched but didn't jerk away. He was frozen, his gaze fixed on Kirishima’s face, the subtle way his mouth tilted into a frown. Without thinking, he reached forward and ran a gentle finger over the scar on Kirishima’s eye, the one he had put there himself as a kid when he didn't know how to use his Quirk. It all felt so familiar to him, and yet he felt like he didn't know the person looking back at him at all. He leaned closer, letting his fingers graze over the curves and lines of Kirishima’s face. He could feel the way Kirishima held his breath, like the moment right before you take a running leap off a ledge and hope you'll make it to the ground alive.

"I want to know what's so important down here that makes you think any of this is okay," he said. He let his hand linger on Kirishima’s cheek, unable to make himself move away. He wanted to touch him, he wanted to feel that familiar safety and certainty that they used to have. It was so, so close, and then suddenly it was gone.

"It's this." He leaned over, reaching across the floor where he had dropped several papers and file folders when Bakugou attacked him. His fingers grazed the edge of a briefcase, locked with a complicated coding system. Of course, the case had already been cracked open, though how Kirishima had gotten it, Bakugou wasn't sure. He was never good at those sorts of things.

Bakugou watched him as he opened the briefcase to reveal a single vial of red liquid labeled "Creati." He was hesitant as he reached for it, afraid that it was exactly what he thought it was in the vial, but not sure why it bothered him if it was. So Yaoyorozu had a vial of her blood in a briefcase in the basement. Why did that justify a raid?

He lifted his eyes to Kirishima, frowning. "Explain."

"I'm not totally sure yet," Kirishima said, holding the vial up to examine, "but I kind of suspected something was going on when my mom was going to the doctor. She's got a strength Quirk, you know, so she does all those weightlifting competitions, and…I don't know, Bakugou. I can't prove it, but I think they were running experiments on her. She was always too out of it when she came back home."

"Right. They said it was the medicine. To help her sleep."

Kirishima nodded, letting out a breath. "The office burned down before I could figure anything out."

It felt like the air had been sucked out of Bakugou’s lungs. The file folders he had at his house on the Red Fury case claimed a very different story of what happened at Morishita Ishika's neurology office. The papers reported it as arson. They linked it to the Red Fury. And yet, as he sat there on top of Kirishima and looking into his bright, beautiful eyes, he knew that he was telling the truth. Bakugou didn't pay attention to a lot of people's little quirks and tells, the things that made them uniquely them, but he knew Kirishima. And he should have known all along.

He was telling the truth.

Swallowing against the lump in his throat, he shifted in Kirishima's lap, the taste of fear settling heavily on his tongue. "So…are you saying that you think they're running experiments on Momo?"

Kirishima shrugged. "I'm not sure. I was hoping to find out."

Bakugou sighed in irritation. He was starting to get a headache. As if it wasn't bad enough he was high as hell, and now he was getting all this information thrown at him that he wasn't sure he would even remember tomorrow. He didn't even know if any of it was true. But he did know that Kirishima believed it was.

"So then why is it here? What's with the fake engagement?"

Kirishima smiled, a little soft and a little sad. "Just a distraction. And speaking of distractions…" He sat up, and Bakugou climbed off of him, his head reeling. He had no fight in him. Not anymore. Everything was so convoluted. If Kirishima wasn't suffering from a severe case of paranoia and all of this ended up being true, then his entire world was about to fall apart.

"The guy that Polter killed…"

"Failed experiment. He was going to kill himself. And you. He’d probably already killed others. Don’t think I’m saying Polter was right! But I’m not saying he was necessarily wrong either."

His heart was pounding so thunderously he could barely hear himself think. Kirishima sat there on his hands and knees, staring at him, waiting for all of it to register in his clouded brain.

But he couldn't wrap his head around any of it. "Tch. You're fucking delusional. I swear to God, if anyone got hurt because of your stupid ass stunt just to get a fucking vial of blood –"

"Come with me." Kirishima grabbed his arm, jerking him to his feet and dragging him across the room. He stumbled, his brain struggling to catch up with what was happening.

"Get the fuck away from me," he growled, shoving Kirishima away. "I'm not going anywhere with you. If you think you can just get away with all this bullshit, then I know for damn sure you've lost your fucking mind."

Kirishima pushed open a door that opened out next to the hedge maze. Where the smell of smoke and burning cloth had been earlier, there was a soft, sweet smell like flowers lingering in the air. He could not hear the crackle of fire or the sounds of screaming and fighting. In fact, there was no sound at all, just the distant splash of water in the fountain and the whistling of a gentle breeze.

Bakugou clenched his fist. His whole body was trembling. "What the hell did you do?"

Kirishima rounded on him, holding out his hand for Bakugou to take, but Bakugou refused, stomping ahead of him toward the scene of the chaos he had left just moments before.

There were bodies everywhere, splayed out in different positions like they had just fallen over dead. As Bakugou picked his way through the mass of bodies, people he knew, he noticed that they were still breathing. Panic overtook him as he crouched down next to Uraraka and felt her pulse. It was steady, normal. She was just in a deep sleep.

"Red Riot!"

Bakugou looked up at the sound of Kirishima’s hero name to find a young woman, perhaps twenty-four or twenty-five, running across the dance floor toward them. She looked inhuman, but in a terrifying sort of way, like he was staring at the face of an all-powerful being that could strike him down with the blink of an eye. Her long, lavender hair fell around what looked like fish fins on her head and scales on her bare chest. The green skirt she wore looked like it was made from seaweed.

"Everyone is safe," she said, nearly out of breath. "We don't have long, though. They'll wake up soon." Her eyes drifted over to Bakugou, and she took a step back as if trying to decide if she wanted to run.

Kirishima stopped her. "Bakugou, this is Siren. She hasn't committed a single crime, but she joined me because she wanted to expose hero culture for what it is."

Bakugou stared at her. She waved a little, nervous, then turned her head away. Her shoulders were tense. He could tell she was terrified he would hurt her.

"You sang them to sleep?" Bakugou asked. "Is that your Quirk?"

"Uh-huh." Siren bit her lip and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "The rest of it was all just for show. To scare them, you know. The Commission. They were going to take that." She pointed to the briefcase Kirishima held with the vial of blood in it.

Bakugou pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t believe he was standing here listening to all of this. “Why was it here? And what are they doing with it?”

Beside them, Nejire stirred. Siren took a step back again, her body trembling as she grabbed Kirishima’s arm. "We should get out of here."

“Wait.” Bakugou took Kirishima’s hand, their fingers barely touching, and Kirishima looked back at him, alarmed. His gaze drifted down to their hands, and Bakugou dared to take a step forward, closing the gap between them. He heard Kirishima’s slight intake of breath as he slowly reached up to brush his thumb over the new scar on his face. “You really believe all of this, don’t you?”

Kirishima hesitated. Then slowly, he nodded. “I do. And I think there’s so much more I haven’t even figured out yet.” He frowned. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

Bakugou blew out a breath. That was a loaded question, one he wasn’t quite sure he had an answer to yet. From somewhere across the dance floor, he heard someone waking up. His gaze never left Kirishima’s face. “I don’t know what to believe. But I want...” He pursed his lips, hit Kirishima lightly in the chest with his fist. “I want to believe that you left for a good reason. And I want to believe I didn’t somehow fail you when you needed me –”

“Katsuki.” He took Bakugou’s face between his hands, tilting his head up so that their lips were nearly touching. It felt like his heart had risen into his throat. “You didn’t do anything to push me away. I swear to you that none of this is your fault.”

He heard Siren make a panicked sound. “Eijirou, we really should –”

Bakugou felt the sob tearing its way up from his chest. His eyes burned from tears he was barely able to contain. “I don’t want to be away from you anymore.” He knew how desperate it sounded, how pathetic, how weak. "You took two years away from me. We could have –" He paused, wiping at the tear that had escaped down his cheek. Damn it. He couldn't stand crying in front of people. “Don’t make me be away from you any longer.”

“I don’t want to be away from you anymore either, but Bakugou…” He reached up, gently brushed hair from Bakugou’s face. “I left because I knew too much. I didn’t want you to get hurt. Just being here now is dangerous, okay, so can we just –”

“I don’t give a shit. I’m sick and tired of all the secrets and the lies and the running away and the fighting. All of it. I want to be with you. And maybe I still hate you and I can’t forgive you yet, but I want everything we had back.” He squeezed Kirishima’s hand. “Please.”

“We can’t have what we had back,” Kirishima whispered, ducking lower to rest his forehead against Bakugou’s. “You’re supposed to be fighting me. If anyone finds out you’re even talking to me –”

“No one has to know.”

Siren yelped from somewhere behind them. “Eijirou, now please.”

“I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I’ve made,” Kirishima said. “I don’t want them to come for you the same way they came for me. If you decide –”

“I’m deciding right now,” Bakugou hissed, pressing even closer to him. There was barely even room for him to breathe. “I don’t give a fuck. So we fight on the clock. I can deal with it if you can. We’ll figure this out. We have to. Because I’m not going another fucking day without knowing if you’re alive or dead. You made me live through that for too long. I’m taking that time back, and you can argue all you want to, but I’m not backing down –”

“Okay.”

Bakugou sucked in a breath. He didn’t think it would be that easy. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. I never got why you gave me a chance in the first place when you’re honestly the coolest, most amazing person I’ve ever known, and I don’t know why you’re giving me another chance now after everything I’ve done –”

“Because I love you, you idiot.” He drew Kirishima close to him again, pressing a brief kiss to his lips before pushing him away. “And nothing you do is gonna change that. Maybe I’m not with you a hundred percent, but I know you. You’re the most selfless person I’ve ever met. And…I want things to make sense again. Nothing makes sense to me without you.”

Kirishima’s eyes widened slightly, and his lips parted as if he wanted to say something, then shut. He let go of Bakugou’s hand, letting Siren drag him away. “We’ll talk soon,” he said, and Bakugou watched him as he walked away, still not feeling any closer to the truth but knowing he didn’t have it in him to fight anymore. He shivered against the cold. It felt like a ball of lead had settled into his stomach. Maybe he was the idiot for letting Kirishima have a hold on his heart again. Maybe he was an idiot for letting him have it in the first place. He’d always sworn to himself that he wouldn’t let anything get in the way of his dreams of becoming a hero.

See how that worked out for him.

He heard something like a little whimper behind him, and he turned to see that Uraraka had woken up. Her eyes were still half-closed, and she had this sort of confused, pained expression on her face as she tilted her head this way and that, trying to figure out what was going on. Her gaze finally settled on him, and she rubbed at her eyes and stretched her arms above her head. “Bakugou? What’s going on?”

“Y-you don’t remember?” He swallowed hard, his heart thumping as she screwed her face up in thought and pressed a hand against her temple. Then slowly, realization dawned on her face, and she gasped, stumbling to her feet as she looked around the dance floor. “These people just came out of nowhere, and then suddenly everyone was fighting and running, and we had to get them out. And then someone was singing, and…” She took two shaky steps toward him, her eyes wide with fear. “Is everyone okay?”

Bakugou looked around. There were more people waking up, confused and disoriented just as if they were trying to shake themselves from the depths of sleep. First Nejire, then Sato, then others quickly followed. “I think so, yeah,” he answered. “We’ll have to check, obviously, but I think everyone made it out alive.”

Uraraka smiled softly. “That’s good. I’m glad. Was it Kirishima? What did he want?”

Bakugou had never had an issue with lying before, but this felt wrong. It was heavy in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. But it was a necessary evil, for now. Until he could make some sense of what the hell was going on. “I don’t know.”

Uraraka frowned. She still looked exhausted, her entire body sagging toward the ground. “He’s becoming really dangerous, Bakugou. We need to do something.”

He nodded. There wasn’t much else to say.

There were no casualties and only minor injuries. Of course, the news the next day reported it as a massacre. No one bothered to correct them, and if they did, they were silenced. The media only told the stories they wanted to tell.

The stories that the Commission wanted them to tell.

Chapter Text

”Think about it. You’re not even in the top ten. You won’t break the top five. You’ve got a powerful Quirk, but it’s nothing impressive. Bakugou has a bright future ahead of him. You know that, right? You know it better than anyone.”

“Stop,” he hissed under his breath, pressing his hands against the sides of his head as he squeezed his eyes shut against the tears. They still slipped past his eyelashes, tracing lines down his cheeks as he struggled to keep in the sobs. There was so much pressure in his chest, building and building and building, making it hard to breathe. Each pull of air into his lungs was raspy, stuttered. It ached. It burned. His body trembled as he curled into himself, drawing his legs up close to his body, hoping if he could get small enough, he would disappear.

”You have to know that this childhood romance isn’t forever. You’re smart, Eijirou. How many people stay with their high school sweethearts?”

”My moms met in high school.”

”Your…moms?”

“Please stop,” he begged. His eyes flew open. He was in a room, alone, with nothing but the sound of those voices stirring in his thoughts, the same voices that plagued his dreams, that crept up on him when he least expected it. The same voices that, as he lay in bed with Bakugou sleeping soundly next to him, prompted him to get up and walk away.

”You’re only holding him back. If anything ever happens to Izuku, he’s on track to be number one.”

”I know.”

”But not like this.”

”Not like what?”

”Don’t make me say it.”

Everything was very loud all the time. The sound of the air conditioner turning on, the cat’s footfalls over the hardwood floor, the sound of a spoon stirring coffee. Bakugou’s explosions nearly shook him to his core. He wanted to scream.

”It just doesn’t sell, Eijirou. The world needs something more…conventional. It’s best to play it safe.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“Think of the future.”

“Think of the children.”

“The…children?”

“There’s so much potential. We could sell you big time to the public. Bakugou could be number one someday. Don’t you want what’s best for him?”

The world was gray. Jokes fell flat, food tasted bad, the sunset lost its beauty. The only thing that brought him joy was seeing Bakugou at the end of the day, knowing that the one person who felt so far out of reach, so completely out of his league, had chosen to spend his life with him, traditions be damned.

Though he couldn’t help but notice how Bakugou turned his head when Kirishima tried to kiss him, how he stepped just out of reach when Kirishima tried to hold his hand. And maybe he had always done that; PDA was never his thing, and he always got weird when people were looking at them. But it started to get more noticeable. And it started to hurt in ways it had never hurt before.

”Statistics show that seventy-six percent of those who were polled are concerned about where hero society is headed. They like seeing their favorite heroes’ Quirks being passed on to the next generation. It creates a narrative that people are invested in.”

“I don’t know what you want from me. Why does it matter who I’m kissing when I’m doing my job and saving people?”

“You think that’s all it takes to be a hero? Sometimes you have to make sacrifices.”

“Sacrificing my relationship isn’t going to solve anything. Did you ever talk to All Might or Endeavor or Hawks like this?”

“Sure. And see how they appeal to the public.”

Everything was red. A violent, bloody, burning, furious red. But when Bakugou kissed him, the world stopped spinning so fast. The walls stopped closing in on him. His vision cleared and his thoughts disappeared and everything made perfect sense. Their future was set in stone.

”A hero thinks ahead. A hero thinks about more than just himself and what he wants. Don’t you think about the future? About the greater good?”

“There are more and more villains popping up by the day. Don’t you want the world to have heroes to look forward to? To know that they’ll be protected?”

“Endeavor thought about the future.”

“Yeah, and he ruined his kids’ lives.”

“Eventually you’ll have to make a choice. I hope you choose correctly.”

He sat in this room all alone and plagued by the voices of ghosts from his past, of people he saw on the news with their fake smiles and their stupid lies assuring a better and brighter future, all while digging their claws into their heroes and forcing them to keep their mouths shut if they didn’t want their careers to end.

There were people outside the walls of this room, people who had put their faith in him to lead them to safety, people who had been wronged by hero society since birth. People who had suffered at the hands of those who thought they were God and could write the stories that would go down in history. The pen was in their hands. They could easily mark out entire sentences, rip up entire chapters, kill off their characters, change up the conflict, delete whole plot lines. And how was that fair when they were playing with real people’s lives? When they were manipulating them just as easily as if they were pieces on a chess board? And the pieces were forced into silence.

”Do you think you’ll ever break up with me?”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“You might be better off if you did.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Did something happen today?”

“No. Nothing. I just don’t understand how I got so lucky.”

They found people’s weaknesses, sniffed them out like they were hounds hunting drugs, and when they stumbled upon them, they pounced. They knew from the start how insecure Kirishima was, how he mistrusted himself, how he thought he would never be enough. They grabbed onto that string, and they pulled and pulled and pulled until finally he had no choice but to do as they said.

”The public wants relatable, traditional heroes to put their faith into. They want heroes who value work and family.”

“I do!”

“Traditional families.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“It’s about passing your Quirks along. Surely you can understand that. Working with a small number of Quirks, evolving them, refining them…it just makes sense.”

There was blood on his hands. He wasn’t even sure who it belonged to. Maybe he’d blacked out again. Maybe he’d murdered someone. Maybe he’d tried to kill himself. It wouldn’t be the first time, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

Because the world would be better without Kirishima Eijirou, right? Bakugou would be better off without him. They had told him so, and he believed them.

He ran because he was afraid. Not just for himself, but for his moms, for his friends, for Bakugou. The Commission had a way of rewriting stories, of erasing entire histories. They had a way of making people disappear, just as they had hoped Taiyo would disappear in the foster care system. At the time it had felt easier. At the time it had felt safer.

And now…how the mighty fall.

”Heroes are meant to be selfless. They’re supposed to put others ahead of themselves. They take action. They don’t hesitate. Have you ever thought perhaps you aren’t as heroic as you believe yourself to be?”

“I think about that every damn day.”

“Eijirou! Eijirou!”

The door was slammed open. He could vaguely hear someone calling his name, footsteps coming toward him. There were hands on him, shaking him. His throat felt raw. He’d fallen asleep and woken up screaming something. Nonsense, probably. All of his dreams were jumbled and jagged and broken like glass scattered and discarded on the street. Everything swirled and blurred like fog, and amidst the chaos and confusion, there was Bakugou. The only thing that had made sense to him for a long time.

The one thing he had to give up if he was ever possibly going to keep them safe.

The one thing that he would never be able to stay away from for long. They were tied together in ways that the Commission would never understand.

“What the fuck?” Siren’s face came into view. She was leaning over him, her face pinched with concern as she held out his hand for him to see. Blood on his fingers, just as he remembered. He could have murdered someone, he wasn’t sure. “You’re hurting yourself, Eijirou. Get up. Let me get you some water.”

He slid his hand across his cheek, where blood was still wet on his skin. He had been scratching at the scar along his mouth and down his neck. The scar that the Commission member had put there as he searched for information about Taiyo.

He looked up at Siren, who had crossed the room to fill a cup with water at the sink. Her ocean blue eyes were set on him, filled with questions she wasn’t brave enough to ask. She handed him his water, and he drank, though it failed to make him feel better. His mind was still a tangled mess. He would not be able to sleep. Not with the weight of the guilt and the fear that had plagued him ever since his sanity had slipped away from him two years ago and he wrote that note. He felt like there was a crack inside of him that wouldn’t ever truly mend itself. Sometimes he still felt like reality was slipping away from him.

“Feel better?” she asked.

“No.” He pressed a shaky hand to his forehead. He felt very warm. And he realized that there were tears slipping down his cheeks again. God, would he ever stop crying? “They have Momo now too. Maybe she’ll take the attack on the engagement party as a bad omen and find a way to escape.” He frowned. Breathing was not coming easily to him. “I can’t believe I let them win. Back at U.A. I swore I would never let anyone take Bakugou away from me again, but I let them. I gave up. I didn’t even give him a choice.”

Siren gave him a soft, sad smile as she took his hand, holding it gently in hers. “I don’t think they gave you a choice either. I certainly didn’t have a choice when I was bouncing between homeless shelters because I couldn’t find a job. I think they take away people’s choices and back them into a corner until they’re forced to concede.”

Her words made sense, but it didn’t erase his past mistakes, the poor choices he had made. It didn’t stop the fact that he had walked out on Bakugou thinking it was the noble thing to do without even giving him any warning. “I wasn’t traditional enough for them,” he said, laughing humorlessly. He ran a hand through his darkening hair. He felt less and less like himself every day. “How long until you think they really start forcing Quirk marriages?”

Siren shrugged. “Do you think the public would be okay with that?”

“I think they would fearmonger. They would come up with all kinds of reasons for why they needed Quirk marriages. And they would make their heroes lead the way.”

Siren sighed. “For the greater good, right?”

“Yeah. Guess we better step up our villain game.”

She smiled at him. It looked kind enough, but the kindness did not reach her eyes. He wondered if she and everyone else actually had any faith that they would be able to win this war, or if they, like Bakugou, thought he was fighting an uphill battle that would eventually end in his defeat.

Chapter Text

"I have to go."

"Five more minutes!"

"That's what you said ten minutes ago."

His words were muffled as Kirishima dragged him back down to the bed and kissed him. He had never said this out loud and never planned to, but when Kirishima kissed him, he felt his mind go blank. It felt like everything crashing around in his head and making him halfway crazy just completely disappeared. It felt like the world wasn't moving and they were in their own little bubble. It felt like the stars had aligned and everything was right.

"Ei," he whispered, pulling away from him just slightly. Kirishima only took that as an opportunity to kiss him everywhere else, across his cheeks, down his neck, over his shoulders, his lips brushing gently over skin that was already so sensitive it felt like every touch would push him toward yet another climax. "I have to go. I'm serious. I have a shift in half an hour."

Kirishima hummed against his shoulder, his teeth sinking in over his collarbone as his hands fell to Bakugou’s waist, dragging him into his lap. "You'll make it, I promise. Just stay with me for a little bit longer."

Bakugou didn't like to use words like "giddy" or "delighted" because they never felt right for his personality, but…well, he was absolutely giddy and delighted. Over the moon. Swooning. Infatuated. Unable to stop smiling. He pushed closer to Kirishima, capturing his lips in another kiss as his hands tangled in his hair. He could feel Kirishima smiling too.

Maybe it should have been concerning to him how easily he had given himself over to this ridiculous idea. Maybe he should have fought Kirishima harder. But he was tired of the fighting. For once in his life, he just wanted this. And now that he had it back, he'd be damned if anyone tried to take it away.

"Mm. Iida will be pissed if I'm late," he said, trying to pull away again, but Kirishima dragged him back, and he did not put up a fight.

"Who cares?" Kirishima said. "Be late. Stay with me."

Bakugou nudged his nose against Kirishima’s, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth as his arms tightened around his neck. He could feel Kirishima's hands roaming his body, sliding over his back, settling on his hips, his fingers pressing bruises into his skin. As if he wasn't already bruised enough from last night.

"Don't you have shit to do too?" he asked, threading his fingers through soft, sweaty hair. Another kiss. God, he couldn't stop himself. It was like they were teenagers again, unable to keep their hands to themselves long enough to get anything accomplished.

"Nothing that's more important than this." He slid his hand past the waistband of Bakugou’s underwear, gripping his ass roughly as he slammed his lips into Bakugou’s once again. Bakugou had been fully dressed ten minutes ago. He had been ready to walk out the door. But then his clothes just sort of disappeared.

"Mm. You've gotta prove to me that you haven't gone crazy and I'm not risking my whole fucking career for you." He opened his mouth, letting Kirishima slide his tongue inside him. His tongue ring grazed the roof of his mouth, and he shuddered so violently he thought he was going to collapse. His hands twisted in Kirishima's hair, pulling him closer until their noses were mashed together and they could hardly breathe, and it was all teeth and tongue, sloppy and wet and so filled with desire that it felt like the room was burning down around them. He wouldn't care if it did.

"I didn't want to get you involved," Kirishima said between kisses. He pushed Bakugou’s underwear down as his hand continued kneading at the firm flesh of his ass. His fingers inched closer in, pressing teasingly at his rim. He gasped into Kirishima’s mouth as his hips jerked forward, grinding against Kirishima’s fully erect cock.

He didn't have time for this. Not again. He wouldn't make it to patrol, and then that would look suspicious, and he couldn't have them being suspicious of him. Not yet. Not until there was some sort of answer.

But he couldn’t stop.

"That's too damn bad," he growled, biting down on Kirishima’s bottom lip and dragging a soft whine from him. He reveled in that sound. It was like a trophy to him. "I'm in this now, just like I should have been from the beginning. And now…" He jerked Kirishima’s head back, mouthing at his neck before sinking his teeth into his soft, vulnerable skin. "You have two fucking years to make up for." He leaned forward, pressing his mouth to Kirishima’s ear. "So I'd suggest you start begging for forgiveness now."

He felt Kirishima shudder against him, and he grinned to himself as he sucked his earlobe into his mouth and ran his tongue over it. It was good to know he wasn't the only one losing his fucking mind over not being touched for two years.

"I'm sorry," Kirishima whispered, burying his face into Bakugou’s neck. "I know I've said it a thousand times, and I'll say it a thousand more and it won't make a difference. What do you want me to do, Katsuki?"

His hot breath gusted over Bakugou’s skin, raising goosebumps along his arms. Bakugou’s nails dug into Kirishima’s shoulders as his fingers sank knuckle deep inside him, stroking him softly, lovingly. He gritted his teeth, suppressing the moan trying to tear its way out of his mouth, then leaned in to kiss him just so he could silence himself.

"Touch me," he whispered, his lips closing around Kirishima’s tongue and sucking hard. His hands trailed down Kirishima’s chest, stopping at his nipple where he tugged at his piercing and got another satisfying moan out of him.

"How do you want me to touch you?" Kirishima asked, pulling his fingers out to knead at Bakugou’s ass cheek again, and Bakugou hissed under his breath at the emptiness it left him with.

"Hmm. You can finger fuck me. It's nice."

Kirishima pressed a kiss to his cheek. "What happened? I thought you were gonna be late."

"I've got a little time." He pulled away to look at Kirishima’s face, the way his pupils were blown wide and swallowing up the red around them, how his cheeks flushed the prettiest pink that Bakugou had ever seen. He swore it was a new color, one that he had discovered all on his own, and it was his forever to keep.

Maybe if Kirishima wasn't so damn pretty he would be able to tell him to fuck off forever.

Kirishima kissed him again, hard, their lips bruising and swollen as he lowered Bakugou to the bed on his back. He never broke the kiss as he reached up and threaded his fingers with Bakugou’s, pressing his hand above his head as he pushed inside of him again. Bakugou let out a weak whimper that disappeared against Kirishima’s mouth.

"Ei," he whispered, and his voice broke pitifully. He had no idea where this side of him came from, but it left him feeling sort of lightheaded and unable to think clearly. It was like he entered a new headspace entirely, a whole new plane of existence. And Kirishima reduced him to a whimpering, whining, submissive mess, no matter how hard he tried to be the one in charge. "Ei, please –"

"Please what, sweetheart? I'm not doing anything unless you tell me what to do." His voice was soft against Bakugou’s lips, his hair brushing over Bakugou’s scorching hot skin as he pushed into him further, curling his fingers just so and brushing his knuckles across a sensitive bundle of nerves that made Bakugou arch off the bed and push his hips down, chasing the sensation again.

"D-don't call me that," he said, voice quivering as he turned his head away and squeezed his eyes shut. There was no way to hide the blush creeping up his neck and along his cheeks, and he was humiliated, but it was Kirishima, and he shouldn't care, but he felt weak, powerless, even if he had started this whole thing.

"What would you prefer me to call you then?" Kirishima asked, his voice low and sort of gravelly as he kissed over the marks on Bakugou’s chest he had left the night before. His teeth closed around a nipple, and Bakugou nearly screamed. His arm curled around Kirishima’s neck, holding him close as he bit down on him, then soothed over it with his tongue. There were bright red and purple marks all over him. It was the most beautiful fucking sight he had ever seen.

"C-call me –" He couldn't believe how incoherent he had become. Kirishima looked up at him with eyes full of passion and longing as he pushed a third finger inside of Bakugou, and Bakugou nearly blacked out. Air was trapped in his lungs, and he could do little else besides wriggle against the fingers pounding mercilessly into him and then stroking him gently, bringing him back down. All the noises that came out of his mouth were high-pitched nonsense and strangled moans.

Kirishima smiled down at him. He looked like a wolf getting ready to pounce. "Do you want me to call you…" He paused, tilting his head in thought, then kissed the corner of Bakugou’s mouth. "Baby? Or…" He kissed his bruised neck. "Love? Or maybe…" A kiss right over his heart. "Darling? Or…" He grinned, letting his lips graze over Bakugou’s stomach. His eyes shimmered with amusement as he descended downward, his tongue just barely lapping at the precome that had collected on Bakugou’s skin.

Bakugou felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. He had no idea where this wicked, torturous side of Kirishima came from, but each teasing kiss sent heat flooding through his veins and racing up his spine. He wasn't even able to speak as he watched Kirishima slowly take the head of his cock into his mouth and swirl his tongue around, purposefully prodding the slit with that stupid ball piercing that he loved so much. He pulled off after just a couple of seconds, and Bakugou let out a pathetic, needy cry as he raked his hands through Kirishima’s hair, trying to guide him back. He was so, so close, the heat pooling in his stomach and twisting wildly like a live wire.

"Ei," he managed to whine, his voice sounding foreign to himself as he rocked his hips downward against Kirishima’s fast thrusts. He couldn't take it anymore. As Kirishima kissed over his hips, he took his dick in his hand and jerked himself off, sighing in relief. He was right on the edge. He could feel it. It was right there. "Ei, please, please–"

Kirishima threaded his fingers through Bakugou’s, both of their hands gliding over his flushed, straining dick. He smiled, this time sort of sweet like his old self who had always been so careful with Bakugou, so afraid that he was going to break.

"Do you want me to call you princess?" And then he sank his teeth down into the inside of Bakugou’s thigh. Bakugou jerked his leg up, nearly kicking Kirishima in the face as he let out the loudest, most disturbing moan he had ever heard fall from his own lips. Tears pooled in his eyes as he came, his vision blurring and his body going limp as streaks of white fell over his hand and across his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut, the heat flooding his cheeks almost too much to bear, and he turned away as heavy, grating breaths shook out of him.

He should not have liked that. It felt somehow degrading, somehow wrong. But he couldn't deny the insatiable thrill that had flared to life inside of him. It was humiliating. He wanted to beat the shit out of Kirishima and leave. It would make things easier.

"Hey," Kirishima whispered, his voice so low and soft and gentle that it pissed Bakugou off. His fingers brushed Bakugou’s chin, tilting his head back to face him. Bakugou covered his face with his hands, forcing himself to breathe as he tried to work out a plan to get out of the room without talking to Kirishima anymore. He didn't want to talk to him. In fact, maybe he didn't even want to see him again. This was bullshit.

"Hey, look at me." He tried to remove Bakugou’s hand from his face, but Bakugou kicked him and rolled out of the way. He couldn't wait until Kirishima went and committed some petty crime later on. It would bring him immense joy to kick his ass after this. He wasn't even sure why he was letting this happen in the first place.

"Katsuki, hey," he said, reaching for Bakugou’s hand as he left the bed, desperately searching for his clothes. The faster he got dressed and out the door, the better. "Hey, what's wrong? Did I do something?"

"What the hell did you not do?" Bakugou hissed as he pulled on his underwear. "God, you have to ruin every fucking thing."

"Is it because of all the pet names?" Kirishima asked, and he sounded genuinely hurt. "I'm sorry, I didn't think –"

"Just…let's just not talk. If we're gonna fuck, fine, but I don't want to talk to you." He pulled on his pants, trying hard to ignore the burning blush creeping up his neck. He wanted to strangle him.

"Okay…I mean, if it bothers you, I won't do it anymore. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you. But…" He sighed. "It's just me. You don't have to be embarrassed. I think you’re really cute.”

Bakugou froze briefly, unable to think, unable to breathe. Once his mind caught up to his body again, he slowly pulled his shirt on, forcing out a breath. He refused to turn back to look at Kirishima. “Shut up. We shouldn’t even be doing this.”

Silence. He raked a hand through his hair, trying to straighten it as best he could. He had a feeling Four Eyes would see something wrong anyway. There were bruises all over his skin. He wouldn’t be able to hide like this. Not for long.

Finally, Kirishima asked, “If we shouldn’t be doing this, then why are we?”

He huffed, rubbing at his wrists where Kirishima had pinned him down. His skin was still vibrating and felt far too sensitive. “I don’t know. My psychiatrist says I have self-destructive behavior. That’s why I always rush into danger without thinking.”

“So you’re only giving me a second chance because…you want to punish yourself for something?”

He heard the bed creak, felt the air in the room shift. His muscles tensed, and he rounded on Kirishima, slapping his hand away before he could touch him. “Shut the fuck up. I didn’t come here for you to psychoanalyze me.”

Kirishima’s eyes were wide, questioning. Hurt. He looked like a wounded animal, and instead of feeling pity, Bakugou could only taste rage. It settled heavily on him, suffocating him.

“What did you come here for then?” Kirishima asked. “What are you looking for?”

Bakugou shifted uncomfortably, averting his gaze, unable to look at Kirishima’s stupid face for one second longer. “Is that all that I was worth to you? A one-sentence note at the foot of the bed? No phone calls, no texts, no way to know what the hell was going on with you?”

Kirishima stared at him, lips parted with words that wouldn’t come out. Bakugou waited, his heart thumping away the seconds. He watched several different emotions cross Kirishima’s face before he finally sighed and sat back down on the bed. “I was just dragging you down, Katsuki. You were better off without me. I don’t even know why you’re here with me now.”

Bakugou clenched his fist, thinking very seriously about just storming out. But the way Kirishima was speaking, it was like he was reciting something, like a mantra. Like a mindless cult repeating affirmations from their leader. “Who said that to you?” he asked. “Did I –”

“No, I –” Kirishima sighed. He was doing a lot of sighing these days. “It doesn’t matter, okay? Just –”

“Were they saying that shit to you?” Bakugou closed the gap between them, dropping to his knees on the floor in front of Kirishima and taking his hands to hold. “Why the fuck did you listen to them? Why didn’t you just fucking ask me what I thought –”

“Because, Bakugou!” Kirishima yelled, pulling his hand from Bakugou’s grip. “You don’t understand. You never had to worry about not being good enough. We all knew you were going to be one of the top heroes. But the entire time we were at U.A., I never thought that I was anywhere near good enough to be friends with you. I felt like you were so, so far ahead of me and I would never be able to catch up. God, I couldn’t even understand why you were paying attention to me, much less dating me. And when you already have all those insecurities and all these authority figures constantly pound it into your head that you’re not good enough, it kind of starts to sound like the truth. They didn’t want us together, and I know they were going to do whatever it took to make sure that we weren’t. They wanted you for different things. They were writing their own story for you, and I wasn’t a part of it.”

His words were rushed, like he was trying to get it all out before someone heard him. He was breathless by the end of it, his eyes shimmering with unspilled tears, and Bakugou couldn’t help himself. He reached out, letting his fingers graze over Kirishima’s warm, flushed cheek, trailing down to the newest scar next to his mouth. Kirishima sucked in a shaky breath, one that sounded broken with sobs he wouldn’t release.

“I made a thousand different mistakes, Bakugou, and I regretted it every single day, but I was scared and I was so convinced that I was doing you a favor. Looking back, I know it doesn’t make sense, but we were pretty much fresh out of U.A. We didn’t know what the fuck we were getting into. They took advantage of me just like they’re taking advantage of Momo, just like they’ve taken advantage of so many heroes before us. They pushed me. They made me feel worthless. I –”

“Shut up.” Bakugou took his hand again, and this time, Kirishima didn’t pull away. He stared, waiting, frantic puffs of breath falling from his lips as a single tear slipped down his cheek. Bakugou kissed the palm of his hand, then kissed over his knuckles. He didn’t really know what else to say. Of course he knew that they were awful to him; Kirishima came home all the time in a miserable, self-deprecating mood that felt like it would never go away. But maybe he didn’t know how awful it had actually been. And Kirishima was right; they were just kids, fresh out of school and trying to prove something. It was easy for a predator to sink its claws into the young and inexperienced.

He remembered Kaminari’s words, how Kirishima was too insecure, Kaminari was too dumb, Shinsou was too scary. They grabbed whatever string they could reach and they unraveled it until there was nothing left but remnants, the hollow shell of what used to be.

Bakugou thought that he had full control of his life, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was just a piece on their game board as well.

“I’m going to my shift with Iida,” Bakugou said. “What are your plans for the day?”

Kirishima shrugged, looking a little shaken by the sudden change of topic. “Trying to figure out what happened to Taiyo. Maybe try to get to the bottom of these experiments I think they’re conducting. I’ll have to break into Sano Masashi’s house again, and I’m not really looking forward to that. He’ll be expecting me.” He lifted his finger to trace the scar along his face, and Bakugou watched with wide eyes, the sound of the man’s name striking a cord in him that had lain dormant for a long time.

Sano Masashi, the man who had been preaching the idea of Quirk marriages. If he had it his way, it would be law.

“Is he the one that did that to you?” Bakugou asked, trying to keep his voice level, but it shook with rage. “Did he cut you?”

Kirishima frowned, shrugging nonchalantly. “Y-yeah, but…it’s not a big deal. I’m fine, right? I mean, I’ve dealt with worse.”

Bakugou blew a frustrated breath out of his nose. He had five minutes until his shift started. Iida was going to lose his shit. “I have to go,” he said, pressing a kiss to Kirishima’s forehead. “I’ll see you tonight?”

Kirishima nodded, not meeting his eyes. “Sure, yeah. See you tonight.”

Bakugou had been sitting across from Yaoyorozu for at least fifteen minutes, both of them staring at one another and waiting for the other to speak, but neither opted to say anything. Bakugou leaned back in his chair, throwing one leg on top of the table as he took a sip of his coffee. Momo smiled serenely at him, lifting her cup to her lips and sipping at her tea. The steam rolled over her face in the cool November air. She looked too peaceful, too normal. It didn't feel right.

Someone had to say something. Clearing his throat, Bakugou swung his leg over the arm of the chair he was seated in and said, "Momo."

Her lips curled up into a tiny smile. "Katsuki."

"I never got to congratulate you on your engagement. So congratulations."

"Thank you." She shivered, pulling her jacket closer around herself. Her dark eyes flicked up to meet his, narrowing slightly. "Of course, you could have had the chance if your boyfriend wouldn't have shown up and ruined everything."

"He's not –" Bakugou sighed. That was not the important part. There were other more interesting things they needed to discuss, and not enough time.

"Obviously you didn't just call me here to congratulate me." Yaoyorozu folded her hands in front of her, her expression hardening. "There has to be some sort of ulterior motive."

"We were never really close, were we?" He forced a smile, and she stared, silent, stoic, waiting. Momo was good at staying rational and calm, but he could tell she was growing impatient. "I was just curious, because last time I saw you, you and Jirou were together. And that wasn't too long ago. Unless…you were cheating –"

"No." She clenched her fist on the table, then, with a deep sigh, forced her fingers to unfurl as she wrapped her hands around her teacup. "I wasn’t cheating. Jirou and I…we were never going to make it, you know? We were on again off again. I needed something more stable."

"See, that doesn't sound right either," he said. "Because the morning of the announcement, Kaminari said that you and Jirou were still together. And Jirou wasn't at the party. So…"

Momo sighed wearily and rubbed at her temple. "What do you want me to say, Bakugou? Jirou and I aren't together anymore."

He watched her face carefully, looking for any sort of crack in her demeanor, but she was stone-faced, her eyebrows pinched in the middle and her lips pursed in frustration.

"Sure. Because Jirou is dating Kaminari, right?"

Momo exhaled, her breath puffing out in a cloud of gray. "I don't know about all that. I don't tend to pry in my exes' lives. Your ex, on the other hand –"

"We're not here to talk about Kirishima. We're here to talk about you."

She was silent for a long moment. He couldn't tell if her cheeks were red from the wind or from anger. "There's nothing to talk about. Yosetsu and I are happy, and you should respect that."

She still wasn't cracking. Along with the beauty, Momo was incredibly smart. She knew how to play her cards correctly. If Bakugou didn't know any better, he might have assumed she was telling the truth and he had misread the situation.

But he wasn't wrong about this. He couldn't be. "So when's the wedding?" he asked, slinging his other leg over the arm of the chair. "Next week? Next month? How long before you announce you're having a perfect hero baby?"

"Shut up," Momo hissed through gritted teeth. Good. He had touched a nerve. At least that meant he was getting somewhere. She took a deep breath, collecting herself, then leaned forward, dropping her voice to a whisper. "If I'm getting married, it's my choice. No one else's. And if I decide to have kids, then that's on me too. Maybe I do want kids. Are you going to shame me for that? Just because you hate kids doesn't mean –"

"Why are you letting them control you?" Bakugou asked. He hadn't meant to be so blunt, but dancing around the topic wasn't getting them anywhere. Now he had to figure out how to bring up the blood vial. "What can they possibly do to hurt you?"

The corner of her eye twitched. The longer he stared at her, the more he realized she didn't look put together at all. Her hair looked like it hadn't been brushed in days, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her clothes were wrinkled, haphazardly thrown on like she was in a hurry to get somewhere. She could always give the impression that everything was okay, but he could see now. There were cracks forming. She would break soon.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said smoothly, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on him.

"You know that you can be with Jirou if you want to be with Jirou, right?" he said. "It doesn't matter."

She twisted the engagement ring on her finger. It was just as dull as her dark eyes. "This…" She swallowed, let out a sigh. "This appeals to more people. It's more conventional. It makes more people comfortable."

"Really?"

"Yes, really! Put your feet on the ground, Katsuki. Can you not sit normally?"

"My table manners don't really matter right now. What I want to know is why the fuck you care if people are uncomfortable or not."

She bit down on her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth. She was still managing to maintain eye contact, but she was slowly losing it. He could see her unraveling. "Of course you don't understand. You don't give a shit what anyone says to you or what they threaten to do."

He sat up then, now very much interested in what she had to say. "They're threatening you?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "No, I…I didn't mean that. Just…can we leave this alone? I don't have any answers for you, and you really shouldn't be prying into my personal life."

"You know who else shouldn't be prying into your personal life? The fucking Hero Commission. And all the shitheads who think we can't be proper heroes if we're not somehow contributing to their cozy, traditional future." He leaned across the table, rage swelling within him now. "You're smarter than this, Yaoyorozu. I know you are."

Her bottom lip trembled. The dam was going to break any second. But still, she held herself together by the very last thread. "It's a survival tactic, Katsuki. Shit is real out here, okay? Once you sign on to this life, you don't get to make your own choices. Your life is theirs. And if having a sham marriage is what it takes to protect me and Kyouka and Yosetsu and my family, then I'll fucking have a sham marriage. It doesn't matter."

He frowned. "You have other options –"

"What? Like running away and joining a group of villains?" She sniffled, wiping at her eyes. "See how that worked out for him. Once they catch him, Katsuki, it's over. I hope you know that."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"He refused them. They won't let him live that down." A sob shook through her, and she pressed her face into her hands as the tears broke loose. He watched her, unsure how to comfort her. Just how he had been so unsure of how to comfort Eijirou. "They want people to believe in a future that belongs to heroes, Katsuki. And they think if they can control which Quirks get passed on and which ones don't, then they can already start grooming the next generation. It's about appearances. It's about making people feel safe and comfortable. It's not about us or how we feel. It's not about change. It's about keeping everything the exact same so that they can keep control." She looked up at him again, wiping at her eyes. Her makeup was still perfectly in place, but there were tears clinging to her eyelashes. "I don't agree with the way he did it, but maybe Eijirou was right to get out when he did. Now we're all just kind of stuck. Our lives don't belong to us anymore. We're just stories to entertain the public." Her eyes met his, and she groaned as she wiped at the tear stains on her cheeks. "We've been here too long. I've said too much." She finished off her tea, then stood from the table. "Be grateful you don't have any obvious weaknesses. They might hold off on you."

"I'm just curious though. Why the class B loser? Why not Icy Hot? He's the obvious choice for you, right? I mean, you're both from prestigious families, some people might say you're both attractive. Plus, you both have kind of decent Quirks. What's up?"

Her expression darkened. "Shouto has his own problems to deal with right now." She turned to walk away, but Bakugou was on his feet in an instant, grabbing at her hand to stop her.

"Wait," he said, and she stared at him, eyes wide, nervous, as she looked around. Almost like she expected someone to be listening to them, but they were the only ones on the street. "Are they running experiments on you?"

Her lips parted, eyebrows furrowed. Clearly, she was disgusted, but she squeezed his hand gently before letting go, and it felt like a silent plea. "That's ridiculous," she said. "What kind of experiments would they be running?"

He shrugged. "You tell me. We found that vial of blood in your house."

Her eyebrows rose. "We?"

Shit. "Me. I found it."

Her mouth turned down in a deep frown. If looks could kill, Bakugou would be six feet under right now. "What were you doing in my house?"

Shit, he hadn't thought this all the way through. This was what his therapist had talked about, rushing into situations without thinking. "Doesn't matter. Just answer the question."

She stared at him. From behind them, the door of the coffee shop opened, and a couple walked out snuggled close together. Neither of them moved until the people were out of earshot. As if fighting with Kaminari in public wasn't already enough to fuel the gossip sites.

"If you must know, my doctor came by right before the party for a sample just so we could check to make sure everything was okay," Momo explained. "She wanted to stay for the party, so we left it locked up until she planned to leave. Of course, it's missing now, but I'm sure you know that."

There was an accusatory tone in her voice that he didn't like. She squared her shoulders, holding herself like she was a lawyer asking questions in the courtroom, and Bakugou was on trial for treason.

"I don't understand what you're implying," he said.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Bakugou, if you're talking to him, if you're somehow helping him, they're going to find out. And you'll lose everything. Are you willing to lose everything for him after he abandoned you?"

She waited for a response for a few seconds, but nothing came. Bakugou didn't have an answer for her. He should have said no, that he had no interest in Kirishima anymore, that he was more than willing to take him down like everyone else, but he didn't think any of that was necessarily true, no matter how hard he tried to make himself believe it. Kirishima had cracked, and now Yaoyorozu was on her way down the same path. Only she was staying. She was letting them manipulate her. Because it truly was the safest option.

"We're all just their little puppets, Bakugou," she said. "They pull the strings, and we dance, and the crowd cheers. One day they'll find your strings too." She pursed her lips, then stuck her hand out to him, the one with the engagement ring. He was unsure what she wanted, and she sighed and took his hand in hers, giving it a tight squeeze. "Good luck, Bakugou. I really do hope things work out for you."

As she turned to walk away, he watched her, disappearing like a ghost into the cool gray mist of a rainy November afternoon.

He was sure they had already found his weaknesses. Maybe he was a bit harder to crack than others, but anyone with half a brain could figure it out.

There were two things he wanted more than anything in the world: to be the number one hero and to have Kirishima back in his life for good. But he could not have both.

Chapter Text

Sometimes the voices in his head weren't so loud. Sometimes he could push them to the back of his mind and lock them behind a door so that it just sounded like a muffled scream, too far away for him to worry about. And sometimes the world shifted into focus. It didn’t look like a long, narrow, hopeless path of gray that blurred in front of his eyes like a paintbrush leaving streaks of messy paint across a canvas.

Sometimes, Bakugou was there, and the color flooded back into his life. Everything was bright. Everything made sense. Bakugou was the only thing that made sense to him. He couldn't even begin to piece the world back together if he didn't have the tiniest shred of hope that Bakugou was waiting for him at the end of all this.

It was hard to look him in the eye. Even after all of the psychological torture he had been put through, after all of the threats, the manipulation, he still couldn't justify to himself running out on Bakugou, no matter what mindset he was in back then or what mindset he was in now. He couldn't justify letting the leader of a group of villains talk him into taking care of his agenda after his death. He couldn't justify anything that he was doing.

And even without a proper explanation, Bakugou was giving him a second chance. He was letting him back in. How the hell had he gotten this lucky when all Bakugou ever did was hold grudges against those that had wronged him?

Society has to change. It isn't built for people like you and me. It's only built for people who want to conform, who want to let go of who they are so they're guaranteed a future. Don't you want things to change?

Voices fought inside his head all the time. So many voices. They blurred together a lot so that he couldn't even distinguish what they were saying. Marcus Friese justifying his behavior, the Commission ripping away his personality until he was a caricature of his old self. He should have just let them have their way. They were going to win this, anyway. This was a fight much bigger than anything he had ever faced. And if he wasn’t strong enough to face them back then, when there were actually people on his side, what made him think that he was strong enough now?

They decided who you were before you even made an impact in hero society. They defined you as they wanted you to be. Can’t you see what they’ve done to you? What they’re doing to your friends?

Bakugou was on top of him, just where he wanted him to be. His lips were on Kirishima’s neck, sucking red blotches into his skin as his hands threaded through poorly dyed red hair and he bounced slowly on his lap. Kirishima let him take control and set the pace, and it seemed that tonight he didn't want it rough. He didn't talk as he fucked himself on Kirishima’s cock. The silence in the hotel room was only punctuated by the occasional grunt or moan, mostly from Bakugou. He was very vocal. And loud. Explosively loud, most of the time.

He still couldn't understand how he had wound up here to begin with. Not that he was complaining. There wasn't a single day that went by when Bakugou wasn't on his mind. He'd just convinced himself it was better to stay away.

Your body doesn't belong to you. Your life doesn't belong to you. Every step you take is calculated for their own purposes. Don't fool yourself. You're an object, a pet, a slave. They own you.

Bakugou’s mouth was on his now, his teeth digging into his bottom lip and sucking hard before diving inside with his tongue, licking as far back as he could reach. His fingers grazed Kirishima’s scalp, scraping lightly as he changed his pace. He was going faster now, getting sloppy. Kirishima’s fingers dug into his hips to help him balance, and he moaned helplessly into Kirishima's mouth, hands grabbing at his hair and tilting his head back. Kirishima let out a squeak that was absolutely not sexy in the slightest, and Bakugou cracked an eye open, blood red and filled with lust as his mouth curled into a tiny smirk.

God, he was beautiful. Everything was hard, sharp lines and perfectly sculpted expanses of muscle and curves in all the right places like he was a fucking piece of art come to life. Kirishima could stare at him for days on end and never grow tired of the sight. How the hell had he walked out on him two years ago without so much as a proper goodbye? He was absolutely certain now that he would go to war for him, if that's what it took to never lose him again.

They were going to snatch him away from you all along. You're not strong enough to hold on.

"Ei," Bakugou whispered in his ear, his hot breath ghosting over his skin as he took Kirishima’s hand, holding it over his heart. He could feel Bakugou’s heart thudding away beneath his touch, an untamed stampede, and he was so, so hot. Kirishima dragged him close, burying his face into Bakugou’s neck and taking in the smell of him. Like caramel, only the scent was stronger now as sweat dripped down his skin, and there were sparks on his fingertips like there usually was when he started to lose control. But Kirishima didn't harden against him. He let the tiny sparks explode against his skin, groaning at the muted burn. Bakugou didn't seem to notice, too fucked out to even bother stringing together a coherent sentence.

You're not good enough for him. You never were.

He squeezed his eyes shut, holding Bakugou closer, pounding into him harder. His head was flooded with Bakugou's needy moans and panting breaths, drowning out the other voices that haunted his existence.

"Baby, I'm gonna come," he said, pushing blonde, sweaty hair from Bakugou’s forehead. "Is that okay?"

He felt Bakugou nod against him as he mouthed at his jawline, and his whines slowly turned back into words whispered against Kirishima’s skin. "Come inside me. Fill me up, Eijirou."

Everything went sort of blurry as he came, emptying himself inside of Bakugou just as he'd asked, but Bakugou was crystal clear on top of him, the only thing his eyes could focus on. Absolutely fucking beautiful.

Don't you want what's best for him? Do you really think you're what's best?

For a long time, Bakugou didn't move from on top of him. He lay there breathing heavily, covered in sweat, his arms wrapped around Kirishima’s neck and his head buried against his shoulder. He had never been this clingy before. Maybe he was afraid Kirishima would walk out of his life again.

That was a fair assumption. He didn't deserve to be trusted.

"I love you," Bakugou said, his voice so soft and sincere and so unlike him that it nearly shattered Kirishima’s heart to pieces. He sucked in a shaky breath, holding Bakugou tightly to him as tears stung at the corners of his eyes.

"No, you don't."

Bakugou eventually rolled away from him, stretching and yawning as he cleaned himself up. The bedsheets were ruined, but it wasn't their problem to deal with.

"Did you figure anything out today?" he asked, casually, like they were just discussing the weather. "About Taiyo?"

Kirishima stared up at the ceiling, counting down from ten as he forced himself to breathe.

This was not how this was supposed to go. He was trying to keep Bakugou away, trying to keep both of them safe. It was clear to him, however, that now that they were here, now that they were in this, neither one of them would walk away. It was a toxic, treacherous game they were playing. One that might very well end in their demise.

"No," he answered. "It was a waste of a day."

"Not entirely." Bakugou rolled back over on his stomach, and Kirishima rolled over to face him. They were only inches apart, staring at one another for a long, tense moment before Bakugou leaned forward and kissed him.

He should have pushed him away. He should have kept him at a distance. That was the whole plan, right? To keep Bakugou safe? That's why he had walked away to begin with.

But he let Bakugou kiss him, and he kissed him back. It was too good to walk away from.

"Fuck, you're a good kisser," Bakugou said, pressing dangerously closer, skin touching skin now. Kirishima tried to keep his hands to himself, to not fall down and not be able to get back up. But how could he when Bakugou’s mouth was on him and his hands were tangled in his hair and his leg was thrown over his hip as he rocked gently against his body?

Shit, he was getting hard again. Bakugou was going to be the death of him.

"You don't have anyone to compare me to," Kirishima said, tilting Bakugou’s head to meet his lips again. His teeth sank into Bakugou’s bottom lip, and Bakugou let out a sweet little whine that shot straight to Kirishima’s dick. He moaned before he could stop himself.

"Yeah, I do. I made out with Sero that one time, remember? When we were playing spin the bottle?"

Kirishima rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm a better kisser than Sero. I didn't need you to tell me that."

"I think someone's getting a little bit cocky," Bakugou said, pressing a kiss to Kirishima’s nose. His hips kept bumping against Kirishima’s, and he couldn't help it. He rolled over on top of Bakugou, kissing over his sweaty, feverish skin. He was practically glowing.

"Aren't you – ngh – gonna ask me what I figured out today?"

Kirishima kissed over Bakugou’s neck, nuzzling him lovingly. He could feel Bakugou’s erection pressing against his leg as he ground against him, hips sliding against hips, their bodies still slick from before. He smiled, brushing his thumb across Bakugou’s cheek. "What did you figure out today?"

"That Momo's engagement is one hundred percent a publicity stunt," Bakugou replied. His arms curled around Kirishima’s shoulders as he wrapped his legs around his hips, his heel digging into his spine as he pushed him closer.

"Yeah, I could have told you that." Kirishima descended down his chest, stopping to bite at his nipple before kissing down further. There were scratch marks on his skin that he didn't remember putting there.

"Yeah, but it's confirmed now, so shut up." Bakugou glared down at him, his eyes flashing with anger as fingers tangled in Kirishima's hair. He wasn't sure if Bakugou was aware he was pushing him down or not. It didn't matter though. He was going to suck his dick one way or the other. "She also acted really weird about that blood. She said her doctor needed it, but I don't know." He sighed, spreading his legs as Kirishima lapped at the precome that had accumulated on his belly. His body was trembling, and his grip on Kirishima’s hair only grew tighter. "She made it seem like they were threatening her. She said she would do what she needed to do to protect Yosetsu and Kyouka." Another sigh. "Did they ever threaten you, Eijirou?"

Kirishima felt a heavy stone settle in his stomach. His chest suddenly felt very tight. He ran a shaky hand over Bakugou’s thigh, spreading his legs further as he settled himself in between them. He could feel Bakugou's eyes on him, but he refused to look up, afraid that he would be able to read too much from his expression. He kissed the inside of Bakugou’s thigh and murmured a soft "Yes" against his skin.

Bakugou jerked against him, his fist pulling at hair as Kirishima took his cock into his mouth and swirled his tongue over the tip, collecting more precome. Whatever Bakugou was trying to say to him dissolved into a moan, which was just as well because he didn't want to talk about it.

"Hey, asshole," Bakugou hissed, smacking Kirishima on top of the head. "Hey, you can't just say they were threatening you and then swallow my dick thinking you can get out of talking to me." He smacked him again, and Kirishima slid off him with a sigh, resting his head against Bakugou’s leg. Sex had never been that great of a distraction for Bakugou. "What the hell? Why didn't you say anything? What did they tell you?"

He let his finger drift over Bakugou's hip, drawing light circles on his skin. He felt ridiculously warm, like he was going to combust. "I don't know. I really don't. They just kept saying all this shit about how they knew how to make people disappear and how they could make it look like an accident. They just wanted me to conform to this image they had for me, that's all. And I would have, I swear I would have. I would have done anything for you, Katsuki. But at the time, I thought it was better to walk away. And now, I'm not so sure."

He glanced up, saw Bakugou looking at him. He beckoned for Kirishima to come closer, and he obeyed, curling against Bakugou’s side as he traced the angle of his jawline. Bakugou shifted his body so they were facing each other once again. The silence settled heavily around them. He swore he could hear both of their hearts beating a wildly erratic tune.

"What do you plan on doing to stop them?" Bakugou asked.

Kirishima shrugged. "I don't have a plan. Not like Marcus did. But his involved a lot more violence than I'm okay with. I'm trying to work around that." He took Bakugou’s hand, squeezing it lightly as he brought his knuckles up to his lips to kiss. He felt a small intake of breath as Bakugou’s lips parted with unspoken words.

There was a question that had been weighing heavily on his mind, one that, if it went unanswered, would only continue to impede whatever relationship they were trying to put together. He didn't want to ask, but he had to know the answer.

"Are you with me on this? Or do you think I'm crazy?"

Bakugou frowned. Nothing about him looked soft anymore. He was all sharp and hard, with an angry scowl plastered on his face. For a few seconds he just breathed, resting his and Kirishima's clasped hands against his cheek. The walls felt like they were closing in on them. He watched the steady rise and fall of Bakugou’s chest, the subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth as he thought. Each second that ticked by felt like more and more weight falling on top of him. He could barely breathe. This was a bad idea. He shouldn't be here. They were living in two separate worlds now, and it was all his fault, if he would have just done what they said and let them use him as they pleased then they wouldn't be in this situation.

"I have to be the number one hero," Bakugou finally said, slowly, like he was still thinking it through even as he spoke. "I have to beat Deku. I have to beat All Might. And I can't do that without the Commission."

"So you're just okay with the way they're treating Yaoyorozu? You're okay with the way they treated me?"

"I did not say that. Stop fucking putting words in my mouth." Bakugou jerked away from him and sat up, rubbing at his temple. "I'm just saying that there are better ways –"

"What better ways? Please tell me, because getting out before they completely took over my life seemed like the only option."

He hadn't meant for his voice to sound so sharp, but now it was out, and Bakugou was glaring at him like he wished he would just explode right there.

"We could have worked together on it," he said. "We could have made a difference with both of us."

"How? They were driving a wedge between us, and you didn't even realize it! They got to you too. You might not think they did, but they did. They've got you under their control just like they have everyone else." He was shaking, he realized, and there were more tears coming, but he was so sick of crying. So sick of feeling this emptiness all the time. "Things are so much worse than you realize, Bakugou. I've barely even scraped the surface. They're everywhere. You can't exist outside of hero society anymore."

"So what exactly are you expecting of me?" Bakugou asked. He was all rage and fire. Red. Everything was burning red. "You want me to just walk away from it all? Join you on your pointless journey to rewrite hero culture?"

"Point –" He sucked in a breath, let it out. Clenched his fists. Counted down from five. He hated this. Bakugou could say he loved him all he wanted, but they were still on opposite sides. They were still, technically speaking, enemies, and it would take more than this to bridge the gap. "You think I walked away to do pointless shit?"

"It seems pretty fucking pointless to me. You've been gone two years, and what have you accomplished? Nothing. You've been wasting everyone's fucking time when you could have been spending more time with me. But instead, I have to track you down and kick your ass and meet up with you in shitty hotel rooms if I wanna fuck, and that's bullshit, Eijirou! You ruined everything."

He was breathing rather heavily. Kirishima watched him, seated on the bed just a few inches away, but they felt worlds apart.

Of course. He should have known. The Commission was absolutely right all along. There was nothing Bakugou valued more than being at the top.

"So you would have been okay with us not being together? Having to sneak around and hide our relationship while they throw us into some bullshit just to get attention?"

Bakugou shrugged. "We have to sneak around now. The only difference is that if you wouldn't have fucking walked out that door, you wouldn't be a wanted criminal, and we could have made things work."

Kirishima had never been great at understanding how Bakugou’s brain worked. He had always been aware that Bakugou was stronger, smarter, more capable than he was, which made it all the more difficult for him to figure him out. He was a complete enigma, which was both fascinating and annoying and made him all the more appealing. He was a puzzle to be worked out, and Kirishima had never felt like he was smart enough to get there.

And he couldn't understand his reasoning now. None of it made sense to him. It was a fight for their livelihoods, the future that they were promised that was abruptly taken away.

And Bakugou didn't care.

"I think I should go," he said as he crawled off the bed to make the walk of shame to retrieve his clothes. "You and I just don't fit anymore, I guess. We should probably stop seeing each other."

Silence. He didn't turn around to look at Bakugou as he tugged on his shirt, but he heard the squeak of the bed springs as he flopped back onto the pillows. "Yeah, I guess we should. Go ahead and run away, Eijirou. You're great at that."

Kirishima clenched his fingers around the fabric of his jacket, hands shaking. Everything was red. Violent, burning red. The world was a blur. It was spinning, and it didn't make sense.

"You know, you keep convincing yourself that I walked out because I didn't care, but you know deep down that the reason I left was because I cared too much. And you can't admit that to yourself. Because if you did, then you would have to admit there was a reason to run, and you can't do that, can you?" He spun around to face Bakugou, hands clenched at his sides. Bakugou was a blank slate, expressionless, unaffected, but he pushed forward anyway, letting the words spill out of him before he could even think. "You don't want to admit that this whole idea of being a hero, this whole society that you grew up on, might have been a huge fucking lie from the beginning, and you can't stand the fact that you're a part of it."

"Get out," Bakugou hissed under his breath. Low, dangerous. A warning.

"I'm not finished." He had been at the end of Bakugou’s wrath plenty of times. He knew better than anyone how to handle him when he got like this. "If you think for one fucking second that I don't care about you, then you don't know me at all. The second I met you I knew that you were meant to be part of my life. I built my entire world around you. Everything I did revolved around supporting you. Taking you away from me would have been like cutting off a limb or losing my soul, and I know that sounds like dumb bullshit, but I didn't understand how important someone could be to me until I met you. I would do anything for you, and you damn well know that. So just stop only listening to the things you want to hear and listen to what you already know is –"

Bakugou was on him before he could even finish speaking, his lips crashing painfully against Kirishima’s as he wrapped his arms around his neck and dragged him back down to the bed. It was startling, the complete opposite of what he had been expecting, but Bakugou always had a way of surprising him. He fell on top of him, their bodies moving together as if they had never been apart, as if they were two parts of a whole.

Everything was red. Burning, passionate red, and the world fell still. The screaming in his brain disappeared. Everything started to fall back into place.

"Let's just meet somewhere in the middle," Bakugou said with a heavy sigh. “I do hero shit, you do villain shit. We can meet in the gray area.”

Chapter Text

Bakugou shouldn’t have taken the pills before he went out on his night shift. He hadn’t expected to be called in; however, Icy Hot had called him and informed him that there were civilians reporting suspicious activity in the Jakku region, and it would have been wrong of him to turn him down, even if he dreaded the thought of spending hours with that two-toned extra who had taken the number two hero position from him. So he went, and he was completely and totally out of it. If the reports were correct and there were villains lurking around in the area, he would be fucked for sure.

Icy Hot looked just as tired as he felt, which meant if they were attacked, they were double fucked. Neither of them even bothered to use their Quirks to get to the top of the building where they would be doing their watch. They took the elevator to the roof, Icy Hot leaning against the wall with his eyes closed and his arms crossed over his chest as the classical music played in the background. When it drew to a halt, Bakugou stumbled forward far too dramatically, his mind somehow tricking him into thinking that the floor was going to fall out from underneath him. Icy Hot blinked stupidly at him but didn’t say anything. They were both too tired to bother.

That was the good thing about Todoroki, he supposed. If he was stuck on the roof with Deku, he would be chattering away and trying to make awkward conversation that would ultimately just drive Bakugou to insanity, and he would snap. Todoroki, while insisting that they were good friends and allies, didn’t bother to try to fill in the gaps with unnecessary comments. Especially tonight. They were here because they had to be, nothing more.

Bakugou perched himself at the edge of the building, dangling his legs over the side as he stared down at the street below. Music streamed out from the open doors of a nightclub. From here, he could see bright purple and green lights pulsing from within, criss-crossing in his vision and making the world swim around him. The crowd outside looked like shapeless voids twisting and twirling into nothing but shadow. Their voices were both very distant and very loud.

“What exactly are we waiting for here?” he asked with a barely concealed yawn. “What’s going on?”

Todoroki seated himself next to Bakugou on the ledge, his face just as expressionless as always, though his eyelids drooped as he scanned the street. “Black market dealings. A few people have suspected a human trafficking ring around here somewhere. They saw some kid with a couple of men a while back and thought it seemed pretty suspicious. Kids don’t normally hang around here.”

“How old was the kid?”

Todoroki shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe six or seven. Eyewitness accounts are always jumbled. You know that.” He unzipped his bag and pulled out a canned coffee, passing it to Bakugou. “You look like you could use this.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Icy Hot?” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I’m wide awake.”

Todoroki huffed and pulled out another canned coffee, popping open the tab. They sat in silence for a long time, watching the clubgoers standing around and chatting. Beside the club, there was a small cafe where a few tables were set out on the patio. The wind was cold, but still there were people seated outside and drinking. Bakugou held his palm out and let a few explosions pop off, warming himself up in case there was any action around here. He was slower in the winter months, and he couldn’t be caught off guard.

He glanced beside him at Todoroki, who was still as stone and just as blank. He sipped his coffee, struggling to keep his head up. It was annoying. They couldn't both fall asleep. And at least Bakugou had an excuse.

"Hey!" He snapped his fingers in front of Todoroki's face, but Todoroki didn't even flinch. He just yawned and turned his body so that he was facing Bakugou, his heterochromatic eyes so intense that it was a little unsettling. Bakugou hesitated for a moment, trying to read Todoroki's face, but there was nothing there. Even after years of knowing him, he couldn't figure him out. "What the hell have you been doing to make you so tired? I know it isn't hero work, because I haven't seen you doing shit for two weeks." He rolled his eyes, taking a gulp of his coffee and wincing. It tasted horrible. "Tch. Number two hero my ass. The whole system is fucked up."

"I can agree with that."

He glanced at Todoroki again, his breath catching just slightly as he tried to work out what the hell he meant, but Todoroki was dead set on watching the club below, his serious expression unwavering. It was fucking infuriating sometimes, how he could hold himself together so easily, how he was so unreadable. Bakugou had always been so intense in every one of his actions and emotions. "Explosive," his mom told him as a child, which was just fucking hilarious. But Todoroki was all cool and calm on the surface, with flames burning deep within him, buried so deep no one would ever be able to reach them.

Todoroki took another sip of his coffee. His fingers drummed against the ledge they were seated on. Without taking his eyes off the club, he said, "You're staring. Why?"

"Because you're the most fucking annoying person on the whole damn planet," Bakugou growled. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm not quite sure what you mean." Still calm, still stoic. Still not taking his eyes off the street.

"Yes you fucking do! What the hell is going on with you?"

The corner of Todoroki's mouth turned up into the slightest hint of a smile. "It's very nice that you care so much about my personal life, Bakugou, but everything is fine."

Bakugou rolled his eyes, kicking at the side of the building. "I don't give a shit about your personal life. I just know if we have to fight, I don't want to be doing it all alone while you're passed out on the fucking sidewalk."

"You don't look much better," Todoroki said, his voice far too calm, far too even. Fucking annoying. "What's going on with you?"

"What's going on with me?" His voice sounded too loud. Explosive. "What the hell do you mean? Maybe I'm tired because I was about to fucking go to bed, and then you call me and ask me to help you with this shit." He gestured vaguely to the street. "Are we even sure we need to be here?"

"If there are multiple eyewitness accounts, then yes. We need to be here."

He huffed. He hated when Todoroki was right about stuff.

"Perhaps I should have called Midoriya," Todoroki said, humming in thought.

"Shut the hell up. I can do whatever Deku can do, and ten times better. So fuck off."

Todoroki sighed and shook his head, his two-toned hair falling into his eyes. At least he seemed more alive now. But there was still something off, something that, for some reason, made Bakugou’s skin crawl. He looked Todoroki over from head to toe, trying to pinpoint exactly what was giving him the creeps, and then Momo's voice echoed in his brain: Shouto has his own problems to deal with right now.

Bakugou had never cared to ask anyone any personal questions about their lives. Hell, if he had a choice, he wouldn't even bother to learn people's names. The less people to keep up with the better. But that Icy Hot bastard was ignoring him and pretending everything was okay when it was absolutely not okay and it felt like the whole world was caving in, and he couldn't stand it anymore. If he wouldn't answer him, then he would just beat the hell out of him until he did.

"Hey," he said, punching Todoroki roughly in the arm. Todoroki shifted slightly as he turned to look at him, and Bakugou caught sight of a bracelet around his wrist he hadn't noticed before. Todoroki saw him looking, and he casually moved his arm so his sleeve would cover it again. But he had already seen it. And he wasn't letting it go. "What the hell was that? What are you trying to hide?"

"It's nothing," Todoroki replied, not even the slightest waver to his voice even though Bakugou knew he was lying out of his ass. "A gift from Fuyumi."

"Let me see it then," Bakugou demanded, lunging for Todoroki's arm, but Todoroki quickly jerked it out of the way, nearly causing Bakugou to fall off the side of the building. "If it's nothing, then let me see it!"

"Why? Do you want one?"

Oh, so he was going to be a little bitch about it. Bakugou glared at him, and Todoroki stared back, without even the slightest hint of anger or fear in his eyes. He was hiding something, obviously, but it wouldn't be easy to crack him.

"There were beads on it," Bakugou said. "They were different colors."

Todoroki's eyebrows shot up as he frowned. "Yes, that's typically how she makes jewelry."

"Fucking hell," Bakugou hissed under his breath. An explosion popped off in his hand, bursting the canned coffee and sending the liquid flying all over them, which just pissed him off more, and it was his own fault.

"Why did you do that?" Todoroki asked, genuinely concerned, and Bakugou turned to face him as he wiped the coffee off his face, the rage he felt nearly suffocating him.

"Jesus Christ, Icy Hot, if something is going on, will you just fucking tell me? I mean, Momo's engagement is fake, and she said you have your own problems to deal with, and I just need to know what the hell is happening to you people. I mean, have you fucking lost your minds?"

The corner of Todoroki's mouth twitched. His eyes were wide, never breaking contact with Bakugou, and he had his hand on his wrist like he was still trying to hide whatever was there, even though Bakugou was not even attempting to grab him. There was a long, lingering silence that felt very heavy between them. The wind blew by, rustling Todoroki's hair, and Bakugou shivered. He was awake now, if only to get some answers. Nothing else mattered right now.

Just when he thought that they were just going to sit there and look at each other all night, Todoroki opened his mouth to speak, and he held his breath, not really sure what he was expecting but preparing for the worst case scenario he could come up with. Someone was sick. Someone was in the hospital. Someone was dead.

But then Todoroki looked toward the street and pointed to a couple of men hanging around outside the club, and Bakugou knew the conversation was over.

"Look," Todoroki said. "They sort of fit the descriptions of the men the witnesses described. Short, long hair, mustache, glasses. You think that could be them?"

"Not really sure," Bakugou answered, irritated now. "But if we're attacking, let's go ahead and do it. I don't have time to wait around all night. I have places to be."

Todoroki raised an eyebrow at him, and Bakugou mentally kicked himself. "By that, I mean my bed. It's way past my bedtime."

Todoroki blinked, pulling his jacket closer to him as he watched the men below. "We can't just attack them without a reason. And they're not doing anything."

"Yeah, they'll probably just stand there and not do anything for hours. Let's just go down there and fucking ask them why they're hanging around acting shady as hell."

"But they're not really–"

"Fine, sit up here and be useless, number two. You don't fucking deserve to be ahead of me."

He didn't wait for Todoroki to respond. He leaped off the building and, using his explosions to propel himself through the air, navigated toward the ground and landed with a loud bang, which startled several of the people outside of the club. Then one woman shouted, "Hey, it's Dynamight!" and they started to swarm him like moths to a flame, which was just great because now those two idiots were running off into the night.

Suspicious as hell.

"Out of my way!" he yelled, sending up an explosion that was big enough to keep them away and clear the path as he made his way down the sidewalk. He leaped up into the air, pushing forward as fast as he could, but he could always tell a difference in the winter. Not enough sweat.

One of the guys had a stretch Quirk so that he could take massive steps, which was putting him very far ahead as he left his friend in the dust. Bakugou landed with a massive explosion that made his ears ring, blasting the sidewalk right out from underneath the slower of the two of them. The man cried out as he fell into the dust and debris, and Bakugou grabbed him by the shirt and slung him down onto his back with a heavy thud that knocked his glasses off his face.

A crowd had gathered. There were people filming on their phones, which was nothing unusual, and Bakugou did his best to ignore them as he dropped down next to the guy and pinned him against the sidewalk.

"What are you running from?" he asked. "Something you're trying to hide?"

The man shook his head rapidly, his dark hair falling into his face to shield the tears rolling down his cheeks. "No, no! Nothing at all! I don't know anything! You just scared us, that's all."

"Don't know anything about what?"

The man struggled against Bakugou’s grip on his arm. By this time, Todoroki had made it down from the building and was standing a few feet away, shuffling awkwardly like he wasn't sure he should get involved. The other man was too far gone to chase now.

"Whatever you're looking for! I don't know anything! I was just hoping to get into the club!" The man sniffled, his words jumbling together in a blubbering, snotty mess as he continued to sob. "Please, hero! You gotta believe me! Let me go!"

Bakugou rolled his eyes. He hated when they cried. "A couple of guys have been seen transporting kids in this area. They match your description. You know anything about that?"

The man shook his head rapidly, letting out a heaving, broken wail. "No, no I don't. I swear it. Please! Please just let me go."

Bakugou could hear the crowd cheering, some of them saying things like, "Arrest him!" or "Get him, Dynamight!" And normally, that would have fueled the flame even more, made Bakugou even more determined to get these people in prison where they belonged.

But none of them had any idea what this guy had done, if he was even guilty of anything. They were here for action and nothing more. And they only cheered for Bakugou because he was supposed to be the good guy. They had already created a scenario in their heads without having any facts.

He looked up at the crowd, squinted against the flashing of cameras. Everything seemed so bright all of a sudden. Too much for him to handle. Faces swam in front of him, blurring into nothing but remnants of what used to be human. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed. Someone had called the police. And for what? There was nothing significant happening, nothing that Bakugou and Todoroki couldn't handle on their own.

It was a mistake, that was all. Plain and simple. But still the people wanted this man apprehended.

"This isn't our guy," Bakugou said under his breath, breaking his hold on the man's arms. The man sat up, blinking stupidly at him as fat tears continued to well in his eyes. He didn't move, didn't try to run. The crowd only grew larger as people spilled out from the club and the cafe, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was going on. It would be all over social media within minutes, even though nothing significant had happened.

But still, the police car rolled up, one tire resting on the sidewalk as a cop spilled out of the driver's seat, one hand resting on the taser at his side. He nodded a greeting to Todoroki and then to Bakugou, dropping to his knees in front of the supposed criminal with handcuffs already in his hand. He didn't bother to ask what he was arresting him for, but Todoroki explained anyway, even as the man screamed at the top of his lungs that he was innocent and tears continued to fall.

"We've just gotta ask you a few questions, that's all," the officer said in his kindest voice that he could manage as he led the man to the cop car. "We determine you're telling the truth, then you're free to go, young man. It's standard procedure, that's all. You match the description of someone we're looking for in the area. We just have to make sure, okay?"

"Please! Tell them! Tell them I'm innocent!" he screamed to the crowd. No one spoke. They still had their cameras pointed at him, capturing every second of his breakdown for the rest of the world to see. Bakugou’s heart thudded dully, echoing in his ears. His mouth suddenly felt very dry as he watched the officer push the man into the back of the vehicle. A few moments later, they were pulling away, the officer waving a friendly goodbye at them as he drove by. As if he didn't have a man having a complete emotional breakdown in the backseat of his car.

"Do you think he should have been taken in?" Todoroki asked, as the crowd grew thinner and the excited chatter fell away. "He really could have just been trying to get in the club."

Bakugou hesitated, his lips curling into a snarl as he looked up into Todoroki's stupid heterochromatic eyes. They had this sort of accusatory look in them, like he was trying to guilt Bakugou into admitting he had done something wrong. It made his stomach burn with rage. "He shouldn't have been running away."

"What about his friend?"

"We'll catch him too. These assholes can't hide for long." He started to walk away, but Todoroki's next words pinned him to the spot, his heart stopping for a full two seconds before starting again, pumping so loudly he could barely hear himself think.

"Kirishima has."

He stared at nothing in particular, swallowing hard. His mouth tasted dry and metallic. The world seemed to tilt to the right. He felt off balance, his body suddenly too large, too heavy. He wanted to leave. He wanted to sleep.

“We’ll catch him too,” he said, not meeting Todoroki’s eyes.

“Do you think that man was innocent?” Todoroki asked. “Do you feel guilty for running after him?”

Bakugou grimaced, his hand curling into a fist against the sidewalk. “I don’t feel guilty for stopping someone from committing a crime. If he’s innocent, then they’ll let him go. If he’s guilty, then that’s one more villain off the streets. Simple as that.”

Of course, he knew without Todoroki even saying it that it was, in fact, not that simple. Things had never been as simple as good versus evil, heroes versus villains. And things weren’t as simple as the two of them existing to fight crime and save the world. Todoroki had his secrets, and Bakugou had his.

The world as they knew it was fucked.

Chapter Text

Bakugou brought the wine bottle to his lips and took a large gulp, barely swallowing before diving back down to kiss Kirishima. His arms curled around Kirishima’s neck, the wine bottle clinking obnoxiously against the headboard as he rutted his half-hard cock against Kirishima’s. His head was a little foggy, his thoughts dull and slow as their lips slid messily against each other. Kirishima’s big hands wrapped around his slim waist, gently guiding him with each needy thrust. Their breath mingled together in heavy, desperate pants, like neither of them could quite get enough air.

Kirishima pulled away from him, and Bakugou made a sound of protest as he chased his mouth, trying to catch his lips before Kirishima pulled the wine bottle from his hand and gulped some of it down. His cheeks were pink, his eyes a little hazy. He grinned, sweet and innocent, and something inside Bakugou’s chest fluttered to life as he grabbed Kirishima’s face and kissed him again. He wasn't even sure how long they had been doing this, drinking and rubbing up against each other like they used to do before Bakugou decided he would be okay with sex. It all felt very familiar to him. It was something he wanted to continue to chase.

He felt the vibration against his lips as Kirishima hummed contentedly, breaking away just long enough to leave a brief kiss on Bakugou’s shoulder as he drank more wine. "You're so fucking pretty, Katsuki. God, I can't stop looking at you."

Bakugou jerked his face forward again, kissing him long and hard as his hands roamed over Kirishima’s bare chest. There was sweat dripping down his skin, mixing with the precome smeared against his belly as Bakugou continued to grind down on him. He wanted to take things slow, to draw this out for as long as he could, but feeling Kirishima’s cock pressing up against him, his hot breath wafting over his cheeks, the smell of wine and sweat and sex lingering in the air, he couldn't stop the quick, jerky movements of his hips as they slammed brutally against Kirishima’s body. Each kiss was like a fire, each touch like soothing rain. He felt warm, relaxed, at peace with everything even as his heart pounded angrily in his chest and his nails dug into Kirishima’s back, drawing soft whimpers from his lips with each little scratch. If Kirishima didn't want to be marked, he would simply harden himself. But he liked the marks. He craved the scars. He told Bakugou they looked manly, even if they came from desperate, sloppy fucking and not a fight.

"You're so fucking gorgeous. Damn it, I can't keep my hands off of you. You feel so fucking good, Kats –"

Bakugou let out a slow breath, his fingers digging into Kirishima’s jaw as he dragged his teeth over his neck, nipping at the skin. Everything was slow and hazy, but he felt manic, desperate for more, craving Kirishima in a nearly insatiable way. No matter how many kisses, no matter how many touches, it wasn't enough. They would have to part in the morning. They didn't have enough time anymore.

Always, always running out of time.

He was panting, hardly able to get words out as his fingers dug in deeper. Kirishima whined, his lips parting enough to let Bakugou lick into his mouth. Their teeth scraped together, and Kirishima shuddered against him. Bakugou closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Kirishima’s as they breathed in sync with one another, fast and stuttered, Kirishima’s hips twitching upward just slightly against Bakugou’s still frame.

"Tell me you're mine, Ei. Tell me you're all mine."

Kirishima nodded rapidly, slamming his lips onto Bakugou’s as he drew him closer, arms snaked around his hips, fingers grasping at his thighs. "I'm all yours, baby. Always have been, always will be."

Bakugou groaned, throwing his head back as he started to thrust against Kirishima again. "Say it again."

"I'm–shit-- all yours."

Bakugou moaned, speeding up the motion of his hips as he clung to Kirishima, their lips meeting once again in a sweet, delectable kiss that nearly knocked him breathless. Everything was teeth and tongue and sweat and roaming hands, and the wine bottle had been abandoned, liquid splashing over them as they rutted against one another. All he could hear was the squeak of the shitty bed beneath them and Kirishima's panting, needy cries in his ear, the sound of skin on skin, the crackling of his fingers tearing into Kirishima’s chest. Everything was hot, and wet, and he felt dangerously close to the edge, heat exploding in his veins and racing down his spine.

"Touch me," he growled, biting down on Kirishima’s shoulder to muffle the soft cry that followed, and Kirishima obliged. He always did. His hands trailed over Bakugou’s thighs, tracing an agonizingly long trail to his cock before wrapping around it, keeping a slow, steady rhythm that didn't match Bakugou’s, and he could have screamed, but instead he kissed him and buried his tongue in his mouth, unable to contain the incoherent, unintelligible noises that were falling from his lips.

He could feel Kirishima trying to pull away, trying to say something, but he ignored him, their tongues pushing furiously against one another, Kirishima’s teeth scraping brutally at Bakugou’s lips. His skin was sticky with wine and precome that just kept dripping down his skin, across his stomach, over his thighs, sticking to Kirishima's fingers as he jerked him off. He fucked up into Kirishima’s fist, unable to stop himself, his body seemingly moving on its own. He felt wildly out of control as he rolled onto his back, dragging Kirishima down with him as he drew him in for another kiss. He was more intoxicated by this than any of the alcohol he'd consumed tonight.

"You're all mine too," Kirishima growled against Bakugou’s neck, biting at the soft skin below his ear. Bakugou cried out, nails sinking into the sheets as his fingers popped with tiny explosions. He was right on the edge, the scent of singed fabric burning his nostrils as heat burst through his body. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing deeply, trying to force it away if only just to draw this out for a bit longer, but it was over before it had even begun. Kirishima’s fingers traveled deftly over his aching cock, and he felt the familiar pressure inside of him start to grow as their bodies slid against one another. If Kirishima said one more word to him, it was over.

"Eijirou –" he said, his voice coming out more pleading than he meant for it to. He cracked his eyes open, met Kirishima’s gaze with his pupils blown dark and wide, swallowing the reds of his irises. He looked completely fucked out. Scratches lined his chest, bruises bloomed around his neck. Bakugou reached out for him, his hands resting on Kirishima’s shoulders as his hips stuttered against Kirishima’s fist. Kirishima smiled at him, flipped his long, darkened hair out of his eyes. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Bakugou’s open mouth, his tongue tracing soothing lines over his bottom lip, and in a low, deep voice that barely belonged to him whispered, "All mine. No one's ever taking you away from me again. I swear to God they won't."

His climax hit him hard. His vision whited out as he desperately scrabbled to hold on to Kirishima, his legs closing around him so tightly he felt his muscles cry out in pain. Kirishima worked him through it, still thrusting slowly against him, chasing his own high as Bakugou’s body fell limp and he continued sputtering noises that made no sense, stringing together words that didn't go together until finally Kirishima came all over his chest and he felt the pressure slowly fade away.

He let out a shaky breath as Kirishima collapsed next to him and curled an arm around his waist. He was unable to move even as Kirishima pushed closer to him, nestling his head in the crook of Bakugou’s neck and kissing softly over his shoulder. His breathing was steady, his eyes half-closed with exhaustion.

"Fuck," Bakugou hissed under his breath.

Kirishima sighed and ran a finger along Bakugou’s jawline. "Yeah? Was it good?"

"Shit. Yes. You can't say shit like that to me and not expect me to explode."

He groaned as he rolled over, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. He had been dimly aware of it vibrating all night but didn't think any of it would be important enough to ruin the mood. There wasn't much, just a few notifications from different websites updating him about Momo, which he had subscribed to in case there was anything suspicious going on, as well as a couple of text messages from Kaminari.

Kaminari (22:16): hey man, I was just wondering if maybe I could stay with you this weekend?

Kaminari (22:18): I know you don't really like sleepovers, but Shinsou is working nights all weekend, and I don't like being in the apartment by myself. It feels really lonely now.

Kaminari (22:19): it'll be fun! We can make margaritas and play video games. I'll even bring everything with me.

"Everything okay?" Kirishima asked.

"Yeah," Bakugou answered as he typed out a reply. "Just a few text messages from Kaminari."

Bakugou (23:14): whatever, just don't expect to share a bed with me.

"How's he doing?" Kirishima asked. Bakugou heard the squeak of the bedsprings as he rolled over but continued to stare at his screen, watching the three dots appear where Kaminari was typing. "I really miss him."

"He's fine," Bakugou lied. "He misses you too. He's going to stay with me this weekend since Shinsou will be working all night. They don't get to see each other much anymore."

He didn't have to look behind him at Kirishima to feel the atmosphere of the room change. The air suddenly felt heavier, denser, and the world sort of closed in, making the room feel much smaller than it actually was. The buzz of the lamp and the groans of the heater suddenly sounded very, very loud.

Kaminari (23:16): oh come on! you don't wanna snuggle? ;)

Bakugou didn't text back. He leaned over to grab his pants discarded on the ground and pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket that he still hadn't touched. Tearing the soiled sheet from the bed and wrapping it around himself, he made his way to the tiny balcony and slid open the door, pushing forward into the chilly November air.

"Bakugou, hey," Kirishima said, following right after him after pulling on the bare minimum of clothes necessary not to be arrested for indecent exposure. "What the hell? When did you start smoking?"

“Just now.” He lit the tip of his finger and held it to the end of the cigarette, raising it to his lips. The hotel that they had chosen for the night was right in the middle of the area where he had been on watch with Todoroki a few days ago. The balcony was barely big enough for the two of them to stand shoulder to shoulder, and it looked out over a small, overgrown courtyard with a dried up fish pond and a couple of broken chairs. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear police sirens.

“Is something bothering you?” Kirishima asked as Bakugou inhaled, letting the smoke fill his lungs. He held it for only a couple of seconds before breaking out into a dry, aching cough that burned his throat and chest. It left a foul taste in his mouth that he despised, but he took another drag anyway.

“A few days ago I got this guy arrested close to here,” Bakugou explained, coughing again. He drew the sheet closer around him, shivering against the cold, and flicked the ashes away.

When he didn’t explain, Kirishima moved closer, his fingers brushing over Bakugou’s. “What did he do?”

Bakugou blew out some smoke and shook his head. “Nothing. They took him in and questioned him, but they released him the next day. He was completely innocent.”

“Oh.” A few seconds of silence passed before he spoke again. “Well, that’s good, right? I mean, that he got out –”

“He was crying and screaming the entire time. It was pathetic.” He scoffed, sinking down to the ground with his back pressed against the wall. He had to curl his legs close to his body to make himself fit. Kirishima followed suit, sliding his hand into Bakugou’s. Bakugou passed him the cigarette, and he took it tentatively before slowly taking a drag.

“Fuck,” he said through a fit of coughing and laughter. He looked at Bakugou, smiling, his eyes watering just a little bit as he continued to cough. “Sorry. Shit, sorry. God, that’s awful.”

“Mm.” Bakugou took it back and extinguished it on the ground. “Not quite like smoking weed. I’ve got a drug test this week though.”

“Ugh. I don’t miss those.”

"Tch. Don't act like your life is so much better now."

Kirishima didn't reply. Bakugou glanced over at him, saw the way he was holding himself, guarded, tense. His gaze stayed on the courtyard below. Slowly, carefully, Bakugou reached across the small space between them and pushed dark hair out of Kirishima’s eyes, tucking it behind his ear. There was barely any hint of the red left.

A question that had run through his mind several times made its way back to the forefront, resting on the tip of his tongue but not quite making it out. As Kirishima tilted his head to look at him with that gentle, reassuring smile of his though, he found the courage to speak. He pulled his hand away from Kirishima as he drew the sheet closer around his bare body.

"Do you ever regret leaving?"

Silence. Each second that ticked by made his heart beat faster and faster, the pressure building up until he could hardly breathe. Then Kirishima said, "I regret leaving you. I don't regret leaving the Commission."

Bakugou sighed, resting his head against the wall as his eyes slid shut. "You don't ever wish you could come back?"

"Well…" Kirishima’s voice was tense, unsure. Bakugou didn't have to look at him to know that he was fidgeting. "Sometimes. Maybe, I guess. I don't know. All I know is that I wanted to be with you, and they weren't going to let me. They're gonna tear Hitoshi and Denki apart too. And Kyouka and Momo. They won't stop until they get what they want."

The wind blew past them again, rustling the sheet wrapped around Bakugou’s body. The chill got underneath, creeping into his bones. He glanced over at Kirishima, sitting there with nothing but boxers on, then opened up the sheet to let him crawl under. This closeness…this felt familiar too. It was hard to be worried about what was going on out there when everything was so perfect right here.

But it wasn't impossible. He pulled out another cigarette and lit it. He was going to finish this one, no matter how disgusting it was. "That guy…he didn't do anything wrong. I had no evidence to justify going after him, and yet when people saw me coming, they were rooting for me to get rid of him. They had no context for what was happening. They just saw that I was a pro hero, and they trusted me to be doing the right thing when I wasn't. It makes me wonder…" He paused, sucking in a breath. This was difficult for him to say. He almost wanted to keep his mouth shut. But if there was anyone that could understand where he was at right now, it was Kirishima. "I just wonder if maybe All Might wasn't as amazing as I used to think he was. I looked at him like he had no flaws. I didn't think he could do anything wrong. Hell, he probably could have come after my parents and I wouldn't have questioned him; I would have just assumed he had a reason." He raised the cigarette to his lips, took a drag. "Why do we do that? Why do we put so much faith in people that we don't even know? Why do we act like they have some sort of higher moral judgment? It's almost like we're gods instead of human beings."

"Hmm." Kirishima sank down so that his head was resting against Bakugou’s chest, his body curled tightly underneath the sheet. Bakugou blew out some smoke and let his fingers fall to the top of Kirishima’s head, threading through his hair. "I think that we've been conditioned to only see things as good or evil. They see you as good, so whatever you're fighting must automatically be evil. I guess?"

They sat in silence for a long time. Bakugou smoked and listened to the light sounds of Kirishima’s breathing against him, slowly evening out until he thought he might have fallen asleep. But then he looked up, smiling that sweet smile at Bakugou that felt like it was reserved specifically for him, and Bakugou felt a dull ache in his chest.

He needed to know everything that the Commission had done to him, how they could take the single kindest, happiest, most loving person in the entire world and break him down into nothing.

But he didn't think he was ready to hear all the details. There was something sad and dark in his eyes that never existed before. He didn't think he could bear knowing about the silent battles Kirishima had fought on his own. Not yet. Maybe because he was afraid it would destroy him. Maybe because he thought if he knew, he would burn the Commission to the ground without question.

Maybe because burning the Commission to the ground didn't sound like such a bad idea sometimes.

“Something’s going on with Icy Hot,” he said.

Kirishima rolled over onto his back, resting his head on Bakugou’s lap. His eyebrows drew together with confusion. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, flicking some of the ashes into the air as he blew out a steady stream of smoke. “I don’t know. He’s just out of it. And there was this…” He shook his head, knowing how ridiculous it sounded before it even came out, but Kirishima was staring up at him, clinging to his every word, patiently waiting. “He had this bracelet on. It had different colored beads on it, and he said it was a gift from Fuyumi, but he wouldn’t let me look at it. Isn’t that fucking weird?”

“Hmm.” Kirishima took Bakugou’s free hand, resting on his chest, and turned it over, his fingers tracing over the lines on his palm and the burn scars that had developed over the years. “Yeah, I guess so. What do you think it is?”

“Not a gift from Fuyumi.”

“A tracker, maybe?”

“Yeah, but a tracker for what? You think the beads are keeping track of something?”

Kirishima didn’t answer. His fingers continued to trace over Bakugou’s palm as he smoked, barely even registering the burn and the foul taste anymore. He had too many things on his mind. It felt like every single day, another part of his world was shattering.

“Your life line is really short,” Kirishima finally said.

Bakugou wrinkled his nose. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It doesn’t mean you have a short life!” Kirishima exclaimed, eyes widening. “It just means that there are a lot of things happening in your life that are out of your control, and you’re really conflicted about it.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, jerking his hand away. “When the hell did you start reading palms?”

Kirishima snorted, flipping to his side and taking to tracing lines on Bakugou’s bare stomach instead. “I tried to learn when we were at U.A., but I was terrible at it.”

Bakugou brought the cigarette to his lips again and inhaled, then slowly blew out the smoke. He put the cigarette out against the balcony and ran his hand through Kirishima’s hair again. “There are a lot of things I don’t know about you.”

“Yeah…” Kirishima sighed, reaching up to caress Bakugou’s cheek as he offered him a soft, almost apologetic smile. His eyes were sad. “I hate that I’m keeping so much from you, but –”

“Don’t. Just…I don’t want to hear it right now.” The image of Kirishima teetering on the edge of the railing, that serene smile on his face after Bakugou stopped him…God, he was going to be sick. “Can we just go back inside and drink wine and make out and fall asleep? I just don’t want to think anymore right now.”

Kirishima nodded, getting to his feet and offering a hand to Bakugou. The night was growing colder. The police sirens sounded closer now. Somewhere, he thought he could hear some yelling, but he was a little bit tipsy, and trying to intervene sounded like a bad idea. He let Kirishima pull him to his feet and lead him inside, and he easily fell into his arms, letting their bodies express what their words could not.

Chapter Text

“Oh, fuck yeah! I beat you! How does defeat taste, Bakugou?”

Bakugou rolled his eyes and tossed the controller to the side as he watched Kaminari dance across the living room sipping his margarita. Normally, he would have insulted him back, but he couldn’t find the strength in him to do it. This was the happiest he had seen Kaminari in a long time. Things felt more natural now.

“What? Nothing to say?” Kaminari bent down and scooped Mango into his arms, twirling around in circles as he did so, much to Mango’s dismay. She mewed as Kaminari pressed a big kiss to the top of her head, then leaped out of his arms and onto the coffee table, where she promptly began to clean herself.

Bakugou shrugged. “Nothing to say. You won. Congratulations.”

Kaminari paused in his celebration, raising an eyebrow at him. “Something’s wrong with you. Normally we would keep going until you kicked my ass. What’s going on? Oh god, you didn’t let me win, did you?”

Bakugou snorted as he grabbed the pitcher to pour himself another drink. “Why the hell would I ever let you win? Who do you think I am?”

“Hmm, you’re right. You’re not that nice.” He tried to put his lips on his straw, but it floated away from him, and he chased it with his tongue before finally giving up. He had already had half the pitcher on his own, and he’d only been here for half an hour. “You wanna go get some food? I’m starving! We can go to that Italian restaurant down the street and load up on carbs –”

“Can you even walk down the street?”

“Pshhh. Of course I can!” He staggered as he tried to make his way back to the couch, and Bakugou threw out his arm to stop him from banging his head on the coffee table. He collapsed to the ground with a very loud thud, splashing margarita all over himself and the floor as he fell into a fit of giggles.

Any other time, Bakugou might have been amused at his friend’s drunken antics and even gone as far as to make life just a bit more difficult for him while he was drinking, but he had to remember the circumstances that had brought Kaminari to his apartment in the first place. Shinsou was working. Kaminari was home alone. And now he was downing alcohol like he thought it might disappear if he didn’t drink it fast enough.

“Get your ass up here and fight me again,” he said, trying to at least make things a bit normal between them. It had been a while since they’d hung out just the two of them, after all. And if he needed normalcy, then he knew for sure Kaminari needed it. “I’ll fucking kill you this time. You won’t even last two seconds.”

“But I have to make more margaritas!” Kaminari whined, picking up the nearly empty pitcher and pouting. “Do you want some more?”

“Sure, but I don’t think you need anymore –”

“I’m fine!” Kaminari grinned and downed the rest of the liquid in the pitcher. “No big deal. Gaming is more interesting when you’re drunk, right?” He slammed the pitcher down, then picked up his glass, which was empty and held it out to Bakugou. “We should do a toast.”

“You don’t have anything in your glass.”

“There’s a little…right there…” He pointed to the tiniest drop, grinning dopily like he did when he short-circuited. “A toast to…” His face screwed up in concentration as he leaned over the coffee table, propping himself up on shaky arms to keep from tipping over. “To Mango! For being the most adorable cat in the entire world. And to you! For letting me stay for the weekend.” He poked Bakugou’s nose, then clinked his glass against Bakugou’s and downed the only drop of liquid that was left. “Oh my god do you want tiramisu? Let’s go down to that Italian restaurant –”

“You’ve already mentioned the Italian restaurant.”

“Did I?” Kaminari tilted his head to the side and brushed his sweaty blonde hair out of his eyes. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes a little bleary. “That feels like it happened forever ago. Are you sure…?”

“Are you okay?”

Kaminari looked up to meet Bakugou’s gaze, and silence hung heavily between them for a long, tense moment. Bakugou didn’t regularly check on his friends, not in the same way that they checked on him, and maybe he was feeling a little guilty as he looked at Kaminari now, the corner of his mouth turned down into a frown, his grip on his glass tightening just a little bit. Something flashed in his golden eyes, something that was so uncharacteristically Kaminari that it made goosebumps raise along Bakugou’s arms. He downed the rest of his margarita and slammed it on the coffee table. They would probably make more soon.

“Sure, yeah!” Kaminari exclaimed, giving him a thumbs-up as he tried to push himself to his feet. Mango let out a distressed meow and ran away as Kaminari fell back down to his knees. “I’m perfect. Just drinking with my best pal, Bakugou.” He punched Bakugou lightly on the arm, smiling warmly, but it wavered just slightly. “Hey, you wanna play Clue? Oh my god, I haven’t played that game in forever! Please! I wanna be Miss Scarlet!”

“I don’t have Clue. Kaminari…” He let out a breath and grabbed all of the dirty dishes to take to the kitchen. Kaminari’s eyes widened, watching him like he was a dog and Bakugou had just taken away his favorite toy. He turned his back on him as he asked his next question. “Have they said anything else to you?”

“Um…” Kaminari picked at a hangnail at the edge of his thumb, not looking up as he answered. “Same old stuff, you know? No one is interested in me and Shinsou. They’re scaring the hell out of the public, making them think we won’t have strong enough heroes to deal with villains in the future.” He heaved a very distressed sigh, and after a few seconds of silence, said, “Hey, Bakugou?”

“Yeah?”

“I was just wondering if –”

The sound of Bakugou’s phone vibrating on the couch made him stop, and he crawled over to grab it before Bakugou could even make a move. He held it up to his face, staring at the screen with narrowed eyes before announcing, “It’s Midoriya!” He pressed the answer button and flopped onto his back on the ground, throwing his legs onto the couch cushion. “Hello, Dynamight’s phone, this is Chargebolt speaking!”

Bakugou tried not to look too urgent as he walked back over to the living room and his heart surged into his throat. He had not been in contact with Deku a lot recently, and if Deku was calling him, it usually didn’t mean good news.

The deep frown on Kaminari’s face confirmed his suspicions. “Really? Are you sure? I mean, how big is this? How many heroes do you need?” He sat up very quickly, wobbling as he tried to get back to his feet. He was already stumbling toward the door to grab his shoes where he had left them, and Bakugou was tailing him, trying to get close enough to hear what Deku was saying on the other side, but Kaminari just kept hurrying off like this didn’t somehow concern him too. After all, Deku had called his phone.

“Okay, great,” Kaminari said, reaching for his jacket. Bakugou tried to grab the phone out of Kaminari’s hand, but he moved surprisingly fast for a drunk person, ducking and weaving away from Bakugou’s outstretched arm. “Bakugou and I will see you soon.”

He ended the call and tossed Bakugou’s phone back to him before pulling on his jacket. Bakugou glared at him, but he didn’t seem to notice as he reached for his overnight bag and started pulling all of his support gear out of it.

“Hey, what the fuck?” Bakugou said, after several seconds of Kaminari blatantly going out of his way not to explain what the hell was going on. “What was that about?”

“Oh, Midoriya said that Kirishima’s destroying a nightclub,” Kaminari replied much too casually as he slid his glasses onto his face. “Crazy, right?”

Bakugou froze, his mind going in several different directions as he tried to grasp onto one single thought to get him moving. Realistically, he knew he needed to get his gear on and go, but Kaminari was being an asshole and taking his sweet time applying chapstick and not fucking explaining anything, and Kaminari was too damn drunk to go on a mission tonight anyway.

“What the hell?” he yelled. “Attacking a – why? How? What –”

“I don’t know, man!” Kaminari exclaimed with a shrug. “But we get to see Kirishima!”

“No, we don’t,” Bakugou growled, stomping over to Kaminari and taking his glasses off to toss to the side. “You’re staying here and not moving. You’re fucking wasted, and I’m not taking responsibility for your dumb ass getting fucked over in the middle of a fight –”

“But Bakugou!” Kaminari whined, taking Bakugou’s hand as he jumped up and down like a child trying to beg his mom to buy him ice cream. “I’m fine, I swear! I need to go. Please don’t try to stop me –”

“If something happens to you, I’m not explaining to Shinsou –”

“Shinsou is there too!” His expression softened a little, and he stepped away from Bakugou before Bakugou could even attempt to stop him. “We finally get to work on a mission together again! Shit, I’m so excited!”

“Hey! Moron!” Bakugou picked up the remote control and threw it at Kaminari. It smacked against his chest. “I am going to help Deku and take care of Kirishima and his little minions. You are going the fuck to sleep and waiting until I get back.”

“You can’t tell me what to do –”

“Yes, I fucking can! Especially if you’re being stupid –”

He stopped himself before he could go any further. In the past, it wouldn’t have mattered if he called Kaminari stupid; but things were different now. And that small intake of breath, the tiny step that Kaminari took away from him, told him all that he needed to know: he needed to shut the fuck up.

“Fine. Fine, you can come. But fighting is not an option, got it? I’m not gonna be responsible if someone curb stomps your ass. You stand on the sidelines and you watch.”

“But Kirishima –”

“--is a fucking menace to society. Don’t forget that.”

Kaminari eyed him warily, and he held his breath, not daring to move in case Kaminari could see all of his dirty little secrets spread out across his skin. If he did, though, he didn’t say anything, instead sighing as he pulled on the rest of his support gear. “You should hurry up and get dressed,” he said, “or we’ll miss all the action.”

“So what’s the situation here?”

Iida glanced over at Bakugou and Kaminari standing next to him and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He wore a deep scowl on his face that made Bakugou feel as if he had somehow done something wrong.

He had, of course. He had been doing something wrong for a while now.

“We can only guess how many are in there,” Iida replied. “Too many. Maybe dozens. We had no idea the Red Fury operation was this large. He must be recruiting.”

Bakugou pressed his lips together in a thin line, forcing a neutral expression. There were police cars everywhere, along with barriers to keep all the onlookers away. There were always people wanting to look. As long as they weren’t the ones actively being harmed, it didn’t matter. They had their cameras out and were climbing all over each other to see who could get the best view.

To the left, they had a first aid station with nurses and an ambulance waiting to cart off anyone that was too seriously injured. There were only a few people standing around, with nurses shining flashlights in their eyes and looking them over to make sure that everything was okay. An older woman wept as she spoke to someone on the phone.

“How many civilians?” Bakugou asked.

Iida sighed. “Judging by the club owner’s estimate, quite possibly close to five hundred.”

“Five hundred?” What the hell was Kirishima thinking? Five hundred civilians that could potentially get injured, but also five hundred civilians who could potentially injure him. He stared at the blinking neon sign on the front of the building: Wonderland. Not a very creative name for a club, in Bakugou’s humble and unasked for opinion, but it was apparently pretty popular. “What kind of place is this anyway?”

“Very expensive and exclusive,” Iida replied. “It’s invite only, and you have to pay thousands of dollars worth of membership fees.”

“So basically a place for the rich and elite.”

Iida cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Yes. Many Commission members come here, and we suspect there are several trapped inside, as well as many prominent names from corporations and some pro heroes.”

Bakugou licked his dry lips and forced himself to breathe. This was stupid. Kirishima was going to get himself killed if he didn’t watch out. Maybe his former classmates would have some reservations about attacking him, but some random civilian who thought his life was in danger might not care. And if the right Quirk caught him off guard…

Still, he didn’t think Kirishima was just fucking around. Sure, he probably enjoyed getting his hands dirty and terrorizing the same Commission members that had tortured him, but he didn’t think he would be here if there wasn’t something very specific he was looking for.

He started to ask, “Do you have a list of the Commission members that are inside?” at the same time that Kaminari asked, “Is Shinsou in there?” Their words overlapped. Iida chose to address Kaminari first.

“He was on the roof looking for a way in the last time I heard from him.”

Kaminari sipped very loudly on his juicebox that he had packed in his supplies. “And when was that?”

“Fifteen minutes ago.”

Kaminari made a sort of pained noise and started forward, but Iida grabbed him before he could make it too far. “I’m sure he’s fine. We have other plans for the two of you.”

“First of all, I don’t take orders from you,” Bakugou told him, and Iida rounded on him, hands on his hips and mouth opened to argue before Bakugou yelled over him, “And second of all, Kaminari is drunk off his ass. He’s not going anywhere.”

Iida frowned, his gaze traveling from Bakugou to Kaminari and then back to Bakugou. “Why did you bring him then?”

“Better than leaving him at my apartment to take care of himself.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. There were so many bright lights everywhere, the reds and blues of the police cruisers and the neon lights from the club and the city beyond screaming in bright, blinding colors. It made his head ache. “Listen, Four Eyes, are we going in or not? Standing around here chatting isn’t going to save any lives.”

“I don’t appreciate your name-calling, Bakugou, and we will go in. We’re just waiting for a signal from Midoriya –”

“I’m not waiting for shit. Give me that.” He snatched a small earpiece from Iida’s hand and shoved it into his ear, cringing as it blared to life with a loud scream of static. “How many other heroes should I expect in there?”

“Four: Midoriya, Shouji, Shinsou, and Uraraka. Uraraka has been evacuating people while the others search out the Red Fury members. We’ve captured two so far.”

Bakugou felt his stomach flip, though realistically he knew Iida would have already said something if it was Kirishima. “Who?”

“Not sure. They’re very young. Perhaps fifteen or sixteen. He’s exploiting children, Bakugou. We must put a stop to this.”

Bakugou glanced up to meet Iida’s eyes, cold and serious, not even a hint of remorse or concern for his former classmate. He was good at pretending, unlike Bakugou. “I will,” Bakugou said. “Take care of Sparky here, will ya? He’s kind of a dumbass and can’t handle his alcohol.”

“Hey!”

“Bakugou.” Iida’s voice was stern, solemn. “You have no idea what you’re walking into. You know he’s not the same person we grew up with –”

“Yeah, I know, asshole. But I can still deal with him better than any of you fucking extras can. So I’m going in, and you can either shut the fuck up and let me, or you can try to stop me. I don’t see that going very well for you.”

Iida pursed his lips together. There was a redness to his cheeks now and a dark anger in his eyes. “Stay in contact with us. Let us know when you find him. We’ll send backup to take him in.”

“Thanks, but I won’t need it.” Rolling his eyes, he turned his back on Iida and Kaminari and stomped toward the building, stopping at the barriers where police officers desperately tried to keep civilians from breaking through into the crime scene. The lights were worse up here. They made him feel a little nauseous.

“Dynamight.” One of the police officers acknowledged him, bowing his head low and shifting one of the barriers to let him through. “I assume you’re here to help capture villains.”

“No shit. Why else would I be here?” He pushed past him, his shoulder slamming into him hard enough to make him stagger back. "Where are the ones that have been arrested?"

The police officer glowered at him but pointed to one of the cruisers, where a pair of teenagers sat with their Quirk-disabling bracelets and their arms handcuffed in front of them. Neither of them looked the least bit scared.

"We've identified the girl," the officer said. "Sixteen years old, runaway. Quirk: dehydration. She can drain the water out of just about anything, living things included."

Bakugou raised an eyebrow, studying the girl carefully. Her cheeks were dusted pink, her clothes torn. Blood dripped from a cut on her cheek. "That could get dangerous really fast."

"You're telling me. She could have killed a dozen people in there before anyone realized what was going on."

The girl looked up, her sad, brown eyes meeting Bakugou’s. It was like a silent plea for help. The boy next to her nudged her with his shoulder, the smallest amount of comfort he could offer her.

Bakugou felt very suddenly weak under the young girl's gaze. "Yeah, but did she?"

"Not that we're aware of, but imagine what she could have done." The officer whistled and placed his hands on his hips. "Crazy, right?"

A thought occurred to Bakugou then that when he was kidnapped by the League of Villains, there were a lot of people questioning where his loyalties were, and what if they had been with the villains? What would have happened then? What sort of damage could he have caused if he had turned against hero society when he had a golden opportunity to? Not that he was ever going to, but couldn't anyone be a threat under the right circumstances?

He forced himself to look away from her. He couldn't bear admitting to himself that the sad look in her eyes was shaking him. "I'm going inside. You'll have some more to cart away once I'm done with them."

"That's the spirit! Go, Dynamight!" The officer pumped his fist in the air excitedly, and Bakugou rolled his eyes and made his way to the club.

Iida said that Kirishima was taking kids in and exploiting them for his own personal gain, but what if these kids were just tired of being oppressed by a society that wouldn't give them a fighting chance? Maybe they found safety with Kirishima. Maybe they found acceptance that they never would have gotten before. Bakugou had certainly found a safe space with him. Kirishima had given him a chance when so many others wanted to demonize him for the things he had done. He loved him even when things got hard.

So yeah, he could understand why so many people were flocking to him. He was a damn saint with a heart of gold, even though he had shed his hero title. He was someone that people could put their faith in, someone people could trust. That's why he had made such an amazing hero.

Too fucking bad "hero" didn't mean saving people anymore.

He stopped at the front door, where a couple of officers were positioned to keep anyone from going in or out. All of a sudden he felt short of breath and a little dizzy. The lights flickering above him were so, so bright.

Kirishima was getting to him. He couldn't let that happen. Not if he wanted to be number one.

The tiny voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he was not ever going to be number one. Not while he was sleeping with the enemy. He would, however, be thrown in jail.

"Got a plan?" one of the officers asked.

He couldn't have the number one position and Kirishima when Kirishima was on the right side, and he couldn't have both now either. It seemed like stepping into the real world, rising to the top of stardom, the odds were always going to be stacked against them.

They were never meant to last. Not if Bakugou wanted to beat Deku. Not if he wanted to keep his license at all.

"Yeah, my plan is to kick Kirishima’s ass and then go home and sleep," he replied. "He always has to do this shit late at night, and I'm fucking sick of it."

He pushed past them, throwing open the door violently. He didn't even bother trying to be covert. If the villains swarmed him, he would just beat the shit out of them until they gave up. Simple as that.

There was a slight buzz in his ear, followed by Deku’s voice. "Kacchan, we weren't ready to go in yet. What are you doing?"

Bakugou looked around the empty foyer he stood in with its blood red carpet and its black and gold walls. It looked like a place where rich people would go to hide their secrets. He couldn't even imagine what was going on in this building.

"What the fuck do you mean? Just walk in. It's not that hard."

"Yeah, but we have to have a plan –"

"No, we don't. Just fucking fight."

“We don’t know how many there are –”

“Enough to put up a good fight, but not enough to stand outside and cry about. Are you fucking coming in or what, number one? Stop being a little bitch and earn your fucking title.”

Deku stammered some sort of shocked exclamation, but Bakugou turned off his earpiece before he could decipher any of his words. No one was going to be of any use to him anyway.

He continued through the foyer, stopping at the coat check where a person would normally be standing to take any clothes or accessories anyone wanted to shed for the night. No one was there, though it looked as if someone had overthrown all of the coat racks and gone through pockets and purses. There were a few wadded up bills lying on the ground, along with what looked to be a rather expensive diamond ring and a gold bracelet.

Huh. So no one was looking for money. Clearly, the motivation here was information.

As he continued on into the club, he caught a whiff of smoke coming from somewhere close, and he rounded toward a closed door to his left to see that it was funneling out from underneath the door frame. On the other side, he could hear voices, though he couldn't understand what they were saying.

Not that it mattered. He kicked open the door with ease and stomped into the room. Someone screamed.

There was a small fire burning in a trash can, and in this situation, he could assume that someone was trying to destroy evidence they didn't want anyone to see. All along the walls there were pictures and posters of lewd scenes – mostly women put in degrading positions that he wasn't quite sure they enjoyed. Against the wall, there was a couch that had been ripped to shreds and a rack of all kinds of toys that had been knocked to the ground.

There were what looked to be twenty-five to thirty people in the room, all of them half-dressed and bound by ropes or chains or handcuffs or their own clothing. They all watched him with a mixture of fear and hope in their teary eyes. Some struggled against their bindings and gags, trying to tell him something but unable to speak.

He recognized some of their faces, but he could not put a name to any of them. Some, he thought, might work for the Commission, but there were others – bankers and CEOs and government officials, all dressed in their finest clothes to come to their fancy secret club for an orgy that the public (and probably their families) would never know about. Because everyone was supposed to keep their mouths shut, right? The real bad guys were the ones that Kirishima led.

At the back of the room, four women stood, all of them watching him carefully as he stepped further into the crowd. One of the men on the floor started scrambling to get up, screaming from behind his gag as tears streamed down his face. One of the Red Fury women kicked him in the back, pushing his face toward the ground. Another held her hand up, blue electricity crackling from her fingertips.

"Don't worry, I won't fry him," she said, her lips curling into a small smirk. "We ain't interested in all that. We just gotta keep these filthy ass perverts in here until Red Riot gets done with his mission."

Bakugou looked around at all the faces again. They were all terrified, but none of them looked to be injured, except for a few whip marks that he was sure the Red Fury women had nothing to do with. They were all putting their hope in him. They were counting on him to get them out of here safely and take the villains into custody.

They were assuming they were the good guys here. And normally Bakugou wouldn't give a shit about what people did in their free time. But how many of these people had a spouse or kids at home waiting for them to get back? How many lied and manipulated everyone around them to cover up their filthy little secrets? And what the hell else went on in this place? Surely it wasn't just a BDSM club for the rich.

No, there was something happening here. He just couldn't quite figure it out.

"Why the hell did he come here in the first place?" Bakugou asked. "What do these fucking morons have to offer him?"

He was sure he would get in trouble for that comment later, but he wouldn't take it back. He could tell just from the way they looked at him how stupid they were.

The electric girl raised an eyebrow and grinned, baring her white teeth. "Does the name Hirayama Rika ring any bells?"

He stared at them. A few of the people on the ground wriggled and fought against their bindings, some of them trying to use their Quirks to escape but failing. There was a reason they weren't heroes, after all.

But the name didn't ring a bell at all. The electric girl's icy blue eyes were cool and calculating as she sized him up. He glanced around the room, looking at each person individually and hoping that maybe seeing a face would help him, but he had never been good at names. Or faces. Especially when it came to people that didn't matter to him.

"Where is he?" he asked.

One of the women – a petite girl with ram horns – shrugged and plopped down on the edge of a chair, sighing in boredom. "How should we know? We were just told to stay here until he says otherwise. He's probably in one of the private rooms, though. The ones for the heroes."

"For the –" He stopped, unsure if he wanted any more answers about what was going on here. Of course, he assumed that there were pro heroes that probably enjoyed places like this, but the way she said it…it didn't sit right with him. There was something else he didn't know, pieces he was not connecting.

He looked around at the pictures on the walls, and suddenly, they looked very different. The girls looked younger, more terrified. In fact, he could bet that a lot of them were teenagers, though some of them looked to be in their mid- to late twenties. A lot of them were completely naked, some stretched out with their asses in the air, others touching themselves for the camera.

He paused on one black and white photo of a woman, studying the soft expression on her face, the way her lips pouted and her long hair fell over her bare chest. There was something in her eyes, something dark, something cold. Like she was turning her emotions off.

He was struck with two very heavy realizations at the exact same time. It felt like a boulder had settled into his stomach.

He knew that woman. It was the glamor girl he had had to take lessons with when he failed to get his provisional license. What was her name? Camie something…

And she was wearing a bracelet. The same kind of beaded bracelet that Icy Hot had done his best to keep hidden.

He took a faltering step back, feeling very hot all of a sudden, and like his throat was closing up on him. The room felt very small and very cramped, yet the people were far away.

"What is this?" he asked. "Some sort of secret sex cult or something?"

Electric girl wrinkled her nose. "That would make things a whole lot simpler, wouldn't it?"

He rounded on them, clenching his fists at his sides. "Where the fuck is he?"

"We really don't–"

He felt like he was going to scream. He stormed out of the room, ignoring the cries and the grunts of the rich bastards being held hostage. He would help them, of course, because that's what heroes did, they helped people. But not until he knew what was going on.

He had to find Kirishima.

"Bakugou!"

He looked up to where the voice was coming from and saw Shinsou running down a flight of stairs. Breathless, he used his capture weapon to hurl himself over the edge and drop to the floor where Bakugou stood, his insides boiling, his head spinning. He could barely even meet Shinsou’s lavender eyes. He had no explanation, no understanding of what he was dealing with. Everything just kept crumbling around him, the world he thought he knew caving in.

"What's going on? Midoriya said you turned your earpiece off, and we couldn't get in touch with you. He was scared you were going to die."

Bakugou rolled his eyes. "That's fucking sad. He still thinks I can't handle these bastards on my own?"

Shinsou was silent for a long moment. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking with most of his face covered. His eyes were cool and blank, completely unreadable. "They're evacuating people in the back. It's going more smoothly than they thought it would. No casualties that we know of, but there have been a few people knocked out."

Bakugou nodded, unsure what he was supposed to do with that information. He didn't care. All he wanted was to get to Kirishima. "There are hostages in that room I just left. Four Red Fury members. Think you can handle them on your own?"

Shinsou scoffed. "What kind of question is that?"

Bakugou smiled a bit. Normally he would make some smart ass remark, but it wasn't the time. "I'm going to get Kirishima. Take their asses into custody. Their numbers are growing, and we need to cut them down while we still can."

Shinsou nodded, already making his way toward the private room when Bakugou stopped him.

"Oh, and Shinsou?"

"Hmm?"

"Fuck the Commission. Spend some more time with Kaminari. He misses you."

Shinsou hesitated, his eyes widening only slightly as he looked away from Bakugou, suddenly finding the red carpet very interesting. Then slowly, he nodded. "Yeah…I miss him too."

There was still loud music blaring from somewhere inside the club. Small alcoves alongside the main room were roped off so that smaller parties could escape from wandering eyes if they wanted to be somewhere more private. The sleek tables in some of the rooms still had wine and shot glasses resting on top of them. Some had spilled onto the plush couches and the ridiculously expensive carpet. In the middle of the room, there was a bar with a shiny wooden countertop and a few velvet seats in front. Mirrors lined the back wall. Some of them had been smashed.

As Bakugou approached, he noticed the bartender slumped against the back of the counter, a shattered glass bottle resting next to him and a thin streak of blood running down from his forehead. Such a mundane way to knock someone out. Why would they do that if they all had powerful Quirks?

Unless some of the Red Fury members were Quirkless…

He looked up at the long line of mirrors and met his eyes in the reflection. He was starting to look like his old self again, his muscles filling out from where he had lost so much weight. His eyes weren't so puffy and dark. He actually looked well-rested, which didn't even make any fucking sense because he should be more stressed now than he had ever been in his life.

His ex was leading a group of villains against the Hero Commission. He was starting a revolution one small step at a time. And instead of throwing him into the highest security level prison they could find, he was spending his nights in shady ass hotels fucking him.

Kirishima was attacking the richest people in town. People who had loads and loads of secrets locked away tightly in this building. People who would do anything to keep those secrets from spilling out.

He was going to get himself killed. And then Bakugou was next.

"What the fuck are you thinking?" he grumbled to himself, stomping through a narrow hallway that opened into a very dark room shielded by long, flowing golden curtains. Behind them, a small stage with cages and poles and swings sat in the middle of the room. A few people were locked away in one of the cages, another handcuffed to a pole. None of them were wearing any clothes. Their mouths had been taped shut.

"What the fuck?" He hurried forward before his brain could even catch up to what was going on. He immediately blasted the pole in half, then incinerated the cuffs around the woman's wrist. She sighed in relief, rubbing at her bruised, tender skin before lunging forward and wrapping her arms around his legs in a warm embrace.

He couldn't help noticing how naked she still was. The only reason it bothered him was because he had a feeling she didn't really want to be.

The naked woman crawled over to the cage and unlocked it with a key that had fallen across the room. Her friends immediately came spilling out, crashing over each other in desperate attempts to escape. The woman ripped the tape from her mouth and sighed, leaning back against the cage and closing her eyes. Her chest rose and fell quickly with stuttered breaths. Her glittery face was marred by streaks of black makeup running down her cheeks.

"Thank you," she said. "We thought we were going to die."

Bakugou’s hands were shaking. He could barely contain the heat building up inside of him. First, it was all those old perverts being held captive, then it was the unconscious bartender. Now, there were strippers that had been locked up and left for dead.

This was bullshit. All of it. Kirishima had no business treating people like this, not when –

"Bakugou."

He looked up at the sound of the familiar, lilting voice of a woman he had only heard once before. It shouldn't have had any effect on him, but it calmed his nerves, made the rage rush away like fleeing ocean tides. Siren stood at the other side of the room wearing an oversized green dress that hung from her shoulders, her hands clasped in front of her. She wore no shoes, and as he watched her walk toward him, he noticed she was leaving bloody footprints behind her.

He swallowed hard, trying not to look away from her, but her eyes were piercing, intense. She held too much power. Whatever charm she was working here, he wasn't going to let it affect him. Even as he watched her pass the strippers, her lips moving with a soft song that made them drop like flies, he could feel it pulling on him too, his eyes drooping, his mind growing fuzzy. She stopped once she got in front of him, and she smiled a soft, reassuring smile.

Bakugou wasn't fooled by her sweet act. Not in the slightest. These people were monsters, they didn't care who got hurt, and what did it matter that these old bastards were out here cheating on their wives when the Red Fury were leaving people to die? All because they wanted a bit of information they couldn't do shit with.

He was going to kill Kirishima. He was sure of it this time.

"Where is he?" he asked through gritted teeth, trying to keep his voice from shaking. The rage was back. It tasted hot and sour on his tongue. He ignited his hands, thought about blasting her across the room, then stopped when he saw her hold her hands up in front of her in surrender. Fear danced in her eyes. He watched her swallow nervously, her lips twitching just slightly at the corner.

“He’s upstairs,” she told him. Her gaze was so firm, so unwavering, that he couldn’t help but believe her. “In one of the private rooms. That’s where Hirayama was.”

There was that name again. It meant nothing to Bakugou. He had never bothered learning names. Why should he? It wasn’t as if any of the Commission members mattered to him. He sniffed, wiping at his sweaty face. “What does she have to do with anything?”

Siren’s eyebrows knitted in the middle, her lips turning down in a frown. “Taiyo.”

“Ta–” It felt like the air had been knocked out of him. He couldn’t even think, much less speak. No words came to mind, and yet there were questions flying in every direction, none of which he could grasp. He stared, wide-eyed, at her, and she nodded, pursing her lips into a thin line.

“Go find him. I’ll help them get out when they wake up.”

He wasn’t sure if he believed her, but there were other heroes around the building, and if anything, he felt like Uraraka or Shinsou could handle it. They would get everyone out of here safe and sound. And Bakugou would get answers. All while trying to convince everyone he was still fighting, even though everything he knew was crashing and burning.

He made his way up the same staircase that Shinsou came down from, walking briskly but stopping at each door to throw it open and check for villains. There were none that he could see, but he did open a few rooms to find people in silk lingerie or fancy gowns or suits hiding in corners, begging silently for his help. He nodded toward them, assuring them that everything was going to be okay. Uraraka and Deku would find them. They would get everyone evacuated. What he needed right now was Kirishima, because if someone here knew something about Taiyo, then that could mean…

He thought about the pictures on the wall in that downstairs room, of Camie with her bracelet and her sad eyes. Maybe whatever was going on here was far worse than anything Kirishima had ever done.

Maybe Kirishima was right all along.

He reached the end of the hallway and threw open the last door left. And there he was.

“Hey there, hero,” Kirishima said. “Didn’t think you were gonna make it.”

Chapter Text

Bakugou looked around at the room they were standing in. He had heard of love hotels before, but he’d never actually seen one. He was sure that this was what this room was supposed to be. There was a massive heart-shaped bed in the middle of the room covered with crimson red silk sheets and big, fluffy pillows. A pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs hung from the headboard. Sheer gold and white curtains hung from the canopy, which had been snapped in half and was dangling down to the floor. There were candles everywhere. The room smelled of rose petals and some sort of old perfume. And speaking of rose petals, they were everywhere. All over the floor, across the bed, making a pathway to the gigantic hot tub in the corner of the room filled to the brim with pink water that swirled with even more rose petals. A closet next to the bed was filled to the brim with flogs, whips, and all sorts of things that Bakugou had never seen in his life and had no interest in knowing anything about.

A woman lay on the ground next to the hot tub, knocked unconscious. There was a bruise blooming on her temple, but there was no sign of any blood. The bottom of her pink nightgown was rucked up to reveal a pair of matching silk underwear. On the leather couch, a man lay unconscious, wearing nothing but his tie around his wrists.

As if sex hadn’t made him uncomfortable before. Now he had to think about these nasty ass old people fucking each other. He shuddered, turning his back on them before he vomited.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “What is this place?”

“I don’t have one hundred percent proof, so I don’t wanna lie to you,” Kirishima replied, “but I think there might be sex trafficking going on.”

He felt his stomach do a flip, and the thick, burning taste of bile rose up at the back of his throat. “What?” His heart was pounding. If this had anything to do with Taiyo…

He envisioned the young boy’s face, always smiling and laughing whenever Kirishima was around, clinging to him like his life depended on it. And the Commission had the audacity to say that Kirishima had anything to do with his disappearance. If someone linked to this was linked to Taiyo…

“Don’t tell me,” he said, his voice breaking. “They aren’t –”

“I don’t know. I was hoping to find out.”

Bakugou swallowed thickly. The room felt like it was spinning, and his feet carried him forward before he could collapse. He sat on the edge of the mattress, not caring what sort of transgressions took place before he got here. He knew people were evil, but this was a new low. He had never been this close to a sex trafficking ring before.

Those strippers…the girls on the wall…Camie…

Todoroki?

“Hey,” Kirishima whispered, and he wasn’t even aware he had been biting his lip until Kirishima swiped his thumb over it and wiped away the blood. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out, okay? Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Bakugou looked up at the woman and the man, his heart rising into his throat and beating so painfully he could feel it in his skull, shaking through his body, aching all the way down to his toes. The room blurred. It took Kirishima’s warm lips on his cheek to make him realize that he was crying.

“Katsuki,” he whispered, so soft that Bakugou barely even registered it. He could feel Kirishima’s hands on his back, rubbing soothing circles over his spine. “It’s okay. It’s okay, I swear. I didn’t find any connections with Taiyo. She didn’t know anything.”

“Yeah, but are they –” He sucked in a shaky breath. He had no idea he could feel this much…despair. What the fuck kind of world was he living in where these people were the good guys and people like Kirishima were made the enemy?

Kirishima, who had never hurt a fucking fly, who had always put everyone before himself no matter what the cost was to him. He looked up at him through wet eyelashes and saw that he was crying as well, though he was doing a lot better at containing it than Bakugou was.

Shit, he hated crying. This was bullshit.

“There’s no way they’re all getting away with this after tonight,” he said. “Not when all the other heroes come in and see what’s been going on. Right? All their dirty laundry’s gonna be aired out, whether this is just a BDSM dungeon or, or –”

“I think everyone already kind of knows. And you can’t convict the people who control the story.”

He blinked against the tears, digging his fingers into his thighs in hopes that they would stop shaking. The pictures…the bracelets…

Even if this wasn’t a front for some freak sex trafficking ring, there was something really shady going on here, and he didn’t like it.

“I…I saw a picture of that glamor girl. Camie. In the room downstairs.”

“Oh. I…must have missed it.”

Bakugou shook his head, inhaling sharply. He felt like his ribs were closing in, strangling him. Each breath got harder and harder to pull in. “Did they…did they say anything to you? When you –”

“No.” Kirishima scrubbed his hand over his pink cheeks and scoffed. “No, they were only interested in making sure I wasn’t stopping you. From passing on your Quirk or whatever, or preaching ideas they didn’t agree with.” He rolled his eyes and flopped back on the mattress. “You know why they’re leaving Midoriya alone? Because he’s doing everything they want, whether he knows it or not. You and me…we were never all that conventional, were we?”

Bakugou snorted, tried to make himself smile, but he felt absolutely no humor right now. “They hated us from the start.”

“I don’t think we ever stood a chance.”

Bakugou flopped back onto the bed next to him with a heavy sigh, staring up at the ceiling where a crystal chandelier cast a warm, golden glow across the room. He blinked against the light and wiped away the remainder of his tears. “I wish things would have gone differently. Maybe then…”

“Stop.” Kirishima rolled over to face him, pushing his hair out of his face before pressing a kiss to his temple. “Don’t think about what we could have done. We can’t go back and change it. We have to think about what we can do now.”

Bakugou stared at him, his gaze traveling over his face and lingering on his lips before flicking back to his eyes. He felt his throat constrict as he tried to swallow. He was supposed to be the smart one, the one who had answers. But he was coming up short now. "What can we do now? Because I don't think I can keep doing this –"

"You have to." Kirishima traced a finger over his cheek, brushing along his jawline. He tilted Bakugou’s head up and pressed a brief kiss to his lips. "You have to pretend that everything is okay, everything's normal. You have to fight me, and you have to convince them that you're one hundred percent on their side. You can't let them think you're having second thoughts. And you can't let them know that you and I are seeing each other."

Bakugou covered his face with his hands, sucking in a deep breath. He wanted to scream, but a weak groan was the only sound that came out. "I don't see any way for us to come out on top. I think we've been fucked from the beginning."

Kirishima hummed low under his breath. "Maybe. But I have to try. It's not just you and me, Bakugou. We need to make a better world for our friends and family too."

Bakugou rolled over so that he was facing Kirishima and sighed. It was strange. He had never turned down a challenge before and had never even thought twice about losing because when did he lose? But looking at Kirishima now, he felt like a hole was opening up inside of him, and it was going to swallow him whole.

He reached out, letting his fingertips graze over Kirishima’s neck, stopping on his bare chest right above his heart. He could feel it pounding underneath his touch. He forced out a breath and scraped his nails lightly over Kirishima’s skin, watching the light pink lines bloom. "So what do we do right now?"

"Right now…" Kirishima smiled warmly at him as he sat up, offering him a hand. "You fight me. Make them believe you gave it your best effort, but I escaped anyway."

Bakugou scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You're ruining my reputation as a hero."

"You'll get it back." Kirishima nudged him gently, his smile growing wider, and helped Bakugou to his feet. "I still think you can be number one one day."

"You're insane if you think I have any chance –"

Kirishima pulled Bakugou close to him, and Bakugou felt all of the breath leave him as he looked up into his eyes. Kirishima had his hands around his waist, steadily drifting lower. His lips were dangerously close. "When have you ever given up just because there are a few obstacles in your way?" Kirishima asked.

"A few obstacles is a delay on getting my hero license or bad press that disappears after a week. It isn't sleeping with a wanted criminal and trying to take down the whole fucking Commission –"

"Not take down. Just…restructure."

He shook his head. "You're insane. You're absolutely fucking –"

"I remember a time when you used to be too." Kirishima leaned forward, kissing him briefly before pulling away. "We were supposed to take on the world together. Remember?"

Bakugou opened his mouth to speak, then promptly shut it. When they'd first started out after graduation with no experience running their own agency, the Commission had them on a tight leash, watching every little move they made and calling the shots before either of them had a chance. It had become a lifestyle, just the way that things were, something that Bakugou had accepted as truth and dealt with accordingly because he craved the thrill of being a hero so badly.

But he shouldn't have grown accustomed to it. He shouldn't have let it go. They had him on a leash, and all of his friends too. Whenever they strayed too far, the Commission dragged them back in.

Why had they let them get away with it? Why had he turned away when they were so clearly destroying Kirishima?

"Okay," he said, slowly nodding. "I have to pretend everything is normal. Okay. I can do that. I can let them get away with all their shit. I guess."

But Camie kept coming up in his mind. And Todoroki. Fuck, they weren't even close and he was terrified for whatever was going on with them.

"Time to give them a good show then," Kirishima said, pulling him away from the bed. "Show them you still hate me and you want me gone just as much as they do."

Bakugou watched as he hardened his skin and got into a fighting stance. His heart was pounding dully in his ears. "Oh, we're actually fighting?" He crouched, letting his fingers spark as a slow smile crept across his face. "Thank fuck. I've missed kicking your ass."

Kirishima tilted his head to the side, cracking his neck. Dark hair fell messily over his eyes. "You're supposed to lose, remember? But don't worry, I'll take it easy on you."

Bakugou sneered. "Don't you fucking dare."

They stared at each other for a long moment, waiting for the other to make the first move. Bakugou watched as Kirishima’s right foot shuffled forward, adjusting his body accordingly for the attack he predicted to come. But nothing came.

Fine. He had no problem dealing the first blow.

He lunged forward with lightning speed, blasting a hole in the ground where he saw Kirishima trying to dodge. Wood and fuzzy rug flew up into the air. Another blast hit Kirishima in the arm as he shielded his face from the flying debris. Bits of his hardened skin crumbled.

Bakugou was caught off guard for just a moment as Kirishima moved his shattered arm, his stomach tying itself into knots. He hadn't been able to deal that level of damage to Kirishima in a long time.

Kirishima, however, didn't even seem to care. He smiled at Bakugou like he had just accomplished some great feat, like he was proud of him.

"I'm glad you've got your strength back," he said.

"Yeah? Looks like you need to find yours. Come on, give me a real fight."

The only advantage that Bakugou had at the moment was that he was fast. He could blast himself into the air in whatever direction he wanted. Kirishima had gotten quicker, but he was still a fucking rock. It took him a second to get where he needed to go. As he threw himself at Bakugou, Bakugou easily sidestepped him, leaping into the air and raining down more explosions on top of him that were not quite as powerful as the first one. Kirishima blocked, and the explosions shattered the floors, the walls, the ceiling. A very uncalculated attack slammed into the chandelier, blasting it into bits of glass that rained down over the room and sliced over Bakugou’s skin.

It was fucking invigorating.

"Come on, Ei. I know you've got more than that. I told you not to take it easy on me." Kirishima lunged, grabbing for his middle to take him down, but Bakugou easily stepped out of the way, hooking his foot behind Kirishima’s leg and tossing him to the ground in one fluid motion. He made a soft noise as he thudded against the torn rug, like the air had been knocked out of him. Bakugou smiled down at him and crouched, settling on top of him. Kirishima was breathing hard, his bare, hardened chest rising and falling rapidly. His face was flushed and glimmering with sweat. Fuck, it was hot. There was nothing better than seeing Kirishima in the middle of a fight. He felt the stir of arousal low in his gut as he leaned forward, dragging his lips over Kirishima’s cheek and up to his ear. "I know you're not giving up on me so soon."

Kirishima shuddered underneath him, silent for a few seconds as Bakugou let his hands drift over Kirishima’s rough arms, pinning them out to the side. His heart was pounding with excitement, and very suddenly his pants felt a little tighter as he pressed himself down against Kirishima. He wasn't sure if it was just his Quirk or what, but he was pretty sure Kirishima was getting hard too.

"Is this turning you on?" Kirishima asked, flashing him a cheeky smile. "That's cute, Kats. Cute, cute, cute –"

"Don't fucking call me cute, asshole. And I'm not turned on, I just –"

He wasn't sure what happened, but in the span of three seconds, Kirishima had knocked him off and pushed him to his knees, and he had settled himself behind Bakugou, one hand in his hair and jerking his head back while the other wrapped around his waist, pinning him close. He could feel Kirishima's lips against his neck, his warm, quiet breaths tickling over his skin and leaving goosebumps sprouting up all over him.

Fuck.

"What about now?" Kirishima asked as he nipped at his ear.

Bakugou closed his eyes and forced out a breath. Of fucking course. He was hopelessly lost now. There was no saving him.

"Fine, you win," he said with an exaggerated sigh. "So what are you gonna do to me?"

He waited, holding his breath, as Kirishima pressed heated kisses over his already feverish skin, his hand around his waist drifting lower until his thumb just barely brushed over his erection. Bakugou swallowed hard, trying to keep a level head, trying not to let himself absolutely melt under Kirishima’s touch, but he could already feel his legs wavering underneath him, turning to jelly.

“Hmm.” Kirishima hummed against his skin, the vibrations sending a shiver up his spine. He could feel Kirishima pressing closer against him, the subtle shift of his hips that brought his hardened cock to rest against the cleft of his ass. He forced out a breath, heart hammering and pulsing through his whole body, and let his eyes flutter shut as Kirishima kissed over his jaw. “I think maybe I should bend you over and fuck you real deep and hard for hours so you’ll feel it all week. How’s that sound…hero?”

Bakugou hissed under his breath and pushed against Kirishima, putting just the slightest bit of distance between them. "You can't talk to me like that. Not right now."

"Why? You don't wanna be out on patrol this week thinking about being stuffed full with my cock? Knowing that no one else knows all your dirty little secrets?"

"Jesus fuck, Ei. Stop it."

"Oh god, I'm sorry! I thought you liked it! I'm so sorry!" He scrambled to get away from Bakugou, still stringing together panicked apologies as he crawled backward, and Bakugou rolled his eyes and went after him, tackling him back down to the ground. He settled on top of him, resting a gloved hand on his bare chest and leaning over him with a wicked grin. Kirishima’s eyes widened. Bakugou heard the breath catch in his throat, and he stilled for a moment, waiting for whatever the next move might be.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” Bakugou growled. He rolled his hips against Kirishima’s, and Kirishima huffed out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan. “But I was promised a fight, so give it to me rough and hard, Eijirou. If you want them to believe I lost, then you have to make it a good show.”

Kirishima swallowed, let out a slow breath. “I…don’t wanna –”

“I’m asking you to fight me and fuck me. Tear me apart, Ei.” He leaned down to brush his lips over Kirishima’s, slow, lingering, and whispered, “Give me everything you’ve got. I promise I can take it.”

Kirishima shuddered against him, and he smiled to himself, his heart racing and pumping adrenaline through his veins. As he moved to get back into fighting position, Kirishima’s hands wrapped around his thighs, dragging him back down, and now it was his turn to be knocked breathless because Kirishima was looking at him with pure lust in his eyes as he dragged his tongue over his bottom lip and smirked up at him.

“I know you can, babe. You’ve always been so good for me.”

Oh god. His hips stuttered against Kirishima’s before his mind could catch up to his body.

And then everything was a blur as Kirishima hardened and tossed Bakugou off of him with ease, like he weighed nothing at all. The reds and pinks and whites of the room rushed past him as he slammed into the bedframe and heard the wood crack in half against his spine. He ducked and rolled onto the mattress, righting himself immediately as Kirishima’s strong arms wrapped around his middle and tackled him back down again. The sharp edges of his hardened skin sliced across Bakugou’s bare arms, but he barely registered it, even as red gushed down from the wounds. He brought his hand up and pushed Kirishima back with a blast, but Kirishima grew even harder and absorbed the blow.

“Damn it!” Bakugou screamed as Kirishima aimed a punch at him, and he twisted out of the way and only caught the edge of his fist, opening up a fresh cut along his cheek. Blood dripped down his face and his neck. He was breathing hard as they stood on opposite ends of the bed staring at one another. Then slowly, he wiped at his cheek as a smile spread across his face.

This was the most alive he had felt in a long time.

“Had enough yet?” Kirishima asked, tilting his head to the side as he cracked his knuckles.

Bakugou’s gaze traveled down the length of Kirishima’s body, studying the lines of his face and chest, the ridges and valleys of his abdomen, the shadows they cast over his deliciously tan skin. His eyes looked dark and filled with sin.

Bakugou flexed his fingers, releasing a few tiny sparks as he inched closer. “I haven’t even gotten started.”

He swung at Kirishima, blasting a bit of rock from his shoulder and hitting the other side of the bed frame. It creaked and groaned, teetering dangerously toward them. When he swung again, Kirishima stopped him, his massive fist closing around Bakugou’s as he spun him around so that his back was pressed against Kirishima’s chest and his arms were pinned behind him. He felt Kirishima’s warm breath ghosting over his skin, and goosebumps rose along the back of his neck.

For a long moment they stood there, unmoving, breathing in sync with one another. He could not find the strength to fight back. Sweat and blood dripped down his skin, and he closed his eyes, leaning his head back against Kirishima’s shoulder as he waited for whatever fate was to befall him.

Kirishima’s lips pressed against his ear, and his arms twisted around Bakugou’s waist, pulling him flush against him. “You’re so pretty, Katsuki. I could stare at you forever.”

The word pretty sent a tingle racing up his spine, and he blacked out, unaware of what was happening until suddenly he was on his back on the bed and Kirishima's tongue was in his mouth and he was fumbling to try to get his pants off.

"We don't have time for this," Kirishima told him, but he didn't stop. His hands were working to get rid of Bakugou’s heavy, bulky gear as he kissed and bit and sucked at his flaming, sensitive skin. One of his gauntlets was tossed aside, which was such a relief because now he could pull Kirishima even closer without things getting in his way. His fingers roamed over Kirishima’s thighs, tracing circles over taut muscles as he made his way up to unzip his pants. Everything was hot and he was bleeding and the whole room was a swirl of sickening colors but all he could think was Eijirou Eijirou Eijirou as their bodies moved roughly against one another.

"Deku and Ochako…" Kirishima muttered between kisses, and Bakugou silenced him, nipping at his lips and pulling at his hair until he let out a breathy moan.

"Don't fucking talk about them when we're about to fuck." His hand dipped past the waistband of Kirishima’s jeans, sliding down until he brushed the plush head of his cock, and Kirishima bit down on Bakugou’s shoulder to silence a cry from escaping his lips. Bakugou laughed, a short sort of bark, and slid his thumb over the slit, collecting precome that had accumulated. "God, you're so wet. I can't believe that fighting turns you on, you sick freak."

Kirishima huffed, annoyed by Bakugou’s weak attempt at humor, and slid his hand up under Bakugou’s shirt to pinch a nipple. Bakugou bit down on his lip to suppress the smile working its way to the surface. This was the most turned on he had been, probably ever. And there was no time. They were going to get caught, and then what? How the fuck was he supposed to explain this?

"Your thighs are fucking massive, god. Fucking sit on my face and crush my hea –"

"Bakugou?"

Both of them froze, not so much as letting out a breath as they waited, listening for the voice that had drifted through the air. Bakugou’s beating heart drowned out the sound of his terrified thoughts, the panic that seized him as he heard the footsteps coming down the hall, growing closer and closer by the second.

"What's he doing here?" Kirishima whispered, turning to meet Bakugou’s gaze with just as much panic in his eyes as Bakugou felt.

"I don't know. He was supposed to stay outside. Our fucking class rep was supposed to be watching him, but he's a useless sack of shit, as usual –"

"Bakugou? I thought you might need some help, so I came inside. No one was by the basement door."

Bakugou squeezed his eyes shut and let out a slow breath, which did nothing to rid him of his frustrations. "He's drunk as hell. He shouldn't be anywhere near this."

"You can't let him get involved with this, Bakugou. Please." Kirishima shook him, as if that would somehow emphasize his point. "Not now, not ever. I don't want him to get in trouble –"

"Oh, so it's fine if I get in trouble?" Bakugou rolled his eyes, pushing Kirishima off of him. "Okay, whatever. I see how it is –"

"I didn't want you involved either, Bakugou. Remember? But you always have to be right in the middle of things. You can't stand not knowing what's going on. And besides…" He leaned forward, smirking as he kissed the tip of Bakugou’s nose. "I think you like sneaking around. I think you were getting bored without me."

"Fuck off." Bakugou shoved him away and rolled off the bed, doing his best to ignore him as he grabbed his gear he had been stripped of. He couldn't meet Kirishima’s eyes. Because he feared that he might be right.

He was also right about getting Kaminari involved. The fewer people that knew about what was going on, the better. And besides, Bakugou wasn’t sure how Kaminari would hold up under questioning from the Commission. Villains, sure, but their bosses? That was a different story.

“He wanted to come with me,” Bakugou said, running a hand over his bloody arm. “He misses you a lot. I don’t think he came in here to help me. I think he just wanted to see you.”

Kirishima sighed, and the sound turned into a groan as he pressed his hands to his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t say that. I miss him too, but I can’t –”

“I know.” As Bakugou got up, his eyes traveled to the other side of the room, where the woman and the man still lay unconscious. Shit. He was going to let himself get fucked in a love hotel while there were people right there. He had lost a lot of reservations recently, taking whatever he could get whenever he could get it. “Will I see you again soon?”

Kirishima nodded. “Maybe not tonight. It wouldn’t be a good idea. Later this week?” He ran a hand through his hair, pushing the dark locks out of his eyes, and Bakugou couldn’t help but stare at his hands, at his fingers, and he so desperately wanted to be touched he could barely tear himself away. “I have some more things I need to do before I leave here tonight. Some more questions I need to have answered.”

“Bakugou? I know you’re up here somewhere. Shinsou said he saw you.”

Bakugou felt his pulse quicken as he cast a glance at the door. Kaminari was getting closer. He wasn’t sure what might happen if he barged in. “Don’t push your luck, Ei. There are a lot of heroes and police officers hanging around. If they take you in…”

“Come on, have a little faith in me!” Kirishima grinned, wrapping his arms around Bakugou’s waist and pulling him close. “I’m super sneaky. I can get out of here no problem.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, pressing a hand on his chest lightly as if he wanted to push him away, but there was no strength behind it. You’re not sneaky, you’re a giant fucking rock, he wanted to say, but the only thing that came out was, “Please be careful.”

“Aww, would you miss me if I went to jail?” Kirishima’s smile grew wider as he nuzzled his nose against Bakugou’s and then pressed a kiss to it. “That’s so sweet, Kats.”

“Don’t call me that.” He wrapped an arm around Kirishima’s neck and dragged his head back so he could kiss him. It was long and deep and seemed to say lots of things that he couldn’t quite put into words, but it only felt like a few seconds, and then Kirishima was pulling away from him, and he felt empty and alone and scared because this was the closest that they had ever been to Kirishima actually being in danger of being arrested. He was fucked if he made even one wrong move.

“Go take care of Denki,” Kirishima said, squeezing Bakugou’s hand before slipping away. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Ei –”

He swung himself up into the air duct above the bed that Bakugou hadn’t even realized was open, making a dreadful noise as he slammed into the narrow metal pathway. Bakugou felt his heart beating in his throat. He hadn’t realized how nervous he could actually get until he heard Kirishima crashing around above him like he was trying to get someone’s attention. He was a fucking idiot.

But he had to trust him. He couldn’t actually help him get out of the building, not with this many heroes and Commission members around. He would be surprised if he could actually make them believe Kirishima had gotten away from him yet again.

Casting one last glance at the unconscious people he had forgotten about just moments before, he made his way to the door and peeked out into the hallway, surprised to find Kaminari standing right outside the door and staring at him with wide, golden eyes filled with something between confusion and fascination. His cheeks were still pink, his eyes a little bleary.

Bakugou scowled at him. “Why the fuck did Shinsou let you come up here?”

“He was busy. Didn’t take a lot of time to look at me. He didn’t know I was drunk.” There was something sad in his tone as he shrugged and raised his juicebox to his lips. “Did you find him? Kirishima?”

Bakugou hesitated only slightly. Lying about this wasn’t going to be easy; it especially wasn’t going to be easy knowing how desperately Kaminari wanted to see him, how badly he missed him. He would have killed someone if they were keeping Kirishima away from him.

But this was necessary. He had to remind himself of that.

“Yeah, he beat the shit out of me. Got away too. I have no idea where the fuck he went.”

Kaminari’s piercing eyes stared at him for a long moment as he sucked on his straw, then his gaze slowly fell to the cuts on his arms. Bakugou thought, briefly, that he wasn’t being convincing enough, and if he couldn’t convince a drunk guy, then how was he supposed to fool anyone else? He held his breath, and finally, reluctantly, Kaminari nodded.

“So let’s go find him.”

“You’re okay with seeing him again? Of forgiving him so easily after all the shit he put us through?” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe, and Kaminari shrugged, like the answer should have been obvious.

“Sure. I’ve seen what they put him through, and I’m sure they were worse to him than they are to me. I mean…maybe I wanna quit too.”

“Tch.” Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Don’t fucking say that. You’ve been drinking. You have no idea –”

“I just want the life I dreamed about, Bakugou. And this isn’t it.”

They fell into an uncomfortable silence punctuated only by the slurping sound of Kaminari sucking the last little bit of juice up through his straw. Bakugou chewed on his bottom lip, looking everywhere but at Kaminari’s face, which was sad and longing and not at all the person he went to school with. He didn’t like it. It made his stomach twist in unpleasant ways.

“Hey, there are a couple of people in here that Kirishima knocked out,” he finally said, just so that he could break the tension. “Wanna help me get them?”

Kaminari frowned, then nodded and slid his glasses up to rest on top of his head. He followed Bakugou into the room, walking slowly and sort of stumbling but mostly managing to keep himself up. When he noticed the woman and man that Bakugou had been referring to, his lips parted with a soft gasp, and he recoiled slightly.

“What is this place?” he asked.

“An exclusive sex club for the rich and elite,” Bakugou replied, wrapping an arm around the woman’s waist and pulling her to a sitting position. She was mostly dead weight, her head lolling against his shoulder as he picked her up. “Now are you gonna get that guy or not?” He nodded toward the naked older gentleman.

Kaminari wrapped a blanket around the man and, after a few tries, managed to get him off the couch. The man was starting to stir, making soft noises like he was trying to wake up, but he was still mostly out.

Bakugou didn’t understand how they were going to hide in their private lives after this, with all of the civilians and the officers and the media waiting outside to see what was happening, but he had a feeling that the higher-ups would do pretty much anything it took to hide what was going on in here.

He wondered if Kirishima was right, if there was some sort of sex trafficking going on in here that they were trying really hard to keep under wraps.

Camie…Todoroki…

Taiyo?

“Bakugou! Kaminari!” Iida was waiting at the foot of the stairs, waving them over to a long row of club patrons that had been propped up against the wall, unconscious and slumping in their fancy suits or lingerie. At the other side of the room, Shinsou stood with Uraraka and Shouji keeping the Red Fury members they had detained at bay. He scanned the group with his heart pounding painfully in his skull, then let out a breath of relief. No Kirishima. And no Siren either. He had to think the two of them had gotten out.

But there was no Chameleon Man either, and damn it, he wanted to throw that bastard into Tartarus and never let him see the light of day again.

“You look rough,” Uraraka said as she approached the two of them. She smiled gently, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear, and helped Kaminari settle the large gentleman against the wall. “You need to go see a nurse?”

Bakugou shook his head. “I’m fine. No broken bones or concussions. Just a few cuts and bruises. Nothing I can’t handle. Where’s your dumbass boyfriend?”

Uraraka made a sort of grunting noise at the back of her throat, but she never lost her smile. “Rounding up more Red Fury members. There are tons of them, Bakugou. I had no idea Kirishima had this sort of influence.” She shook her head, rubbing at her temple. “What do you think he wants?”

He held her gaze for a few seconds, his mouth going very dry, then looked away, kicking at some broken glass on the floor. “No clue. But I know we need to stop him. Otherwise, the whole Commission could go up in flames.”

Uraraka didn’t respond immediately, and he almost thought she had just walked away and left him hanging. But he could hear her subtle, quiet breaths, and as he looked back up at her, he saw something strange cross her face, something he couldn’t put a name to, and it left a sour taste on his tongue. “Yeah,” she said, her voice light and sort of dazed. “Yeah, we have to stop that.”

The club members were starting to wake up. A medical team came in to check everyone out, making sure that no one was seriously injured. The officers led the captured Red Fury members to the door, lining them up and walking them out like they were actively trying to put them on display, to give the public a good show. Shouji disappeared with them, supposedly to help keep the bystanders under control, but Bakugou knew that the Commission wanted to show them off. They always wanted to show criminals off, like it was something to brag about. Sometimes it was. But most of these people were young and weak. Why did it matter that the strongest heroes had taken them down?

Deku showed up at some point, hauling another villain alongside him. Someone else Bakugou didn’t recognize. He was just relieved that he hadn’t managed to catch Kirishima. He still thought there was a chance…

“If you want to get out of here, you can,” Uraraka said, placing a hand on Bakugou’s arm and squeezing lightly. “Not much left to do. This place is gonna be shut down for a while. We just have to wait for everyone to wake up and get checked out and get them away from the reporters out there. We wouldn’t want anyone knowing what all these rich people get up to in their spare time, right? We have to protect their images, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Bakugou rolled his eyes. “If it was any of us into this kind of stuff, we’d be on the front of every gossip site out there.”

She shrugged, a frown tugging her eyebrows down in the middle. “Yeah, you can’t really breathe without someone criticizing you these days, huh?” She forced a laugh, then took a step away. “Seriously, though. We’re gonna scour the place one more time to make sure we found everyone, and then we’ll be out of here too. You look like you’ve already taken enough hits for tonight.”

“Right, yeah.” Of course, he had actually enjoyed taking the hits. He would have liked to finish what he started. But there was Kaminari, and…

Kaminari. He turned a circle to seek out his drunken friend and found him seated on a couch next to Shinsou, resting his head on his shoulder. Shinsou had his arm around Kaminari’s waist, running lithe fingers through his hair. No one was even paying attention to them.

“Tell Kaminari he can come get the rest of his stuff from my apartment tomorrow,” he said. “Tell him to go home with Shinsou.”

Uraraka’s eyes widened, questioning, but she nodded anyway, and Bakugou left her to deal with the old, rich bastards by herself. He was never quite good at the stuff that came after a disaster. Maybe that was why he was number four and not number one.

Eh. Maybe he would get better with people one day.

But he was damned now. Number one was only a distant dream.

As he walked back out into the night, he was assaulted with news reporters calling his name, waving their arms and microphones around in the air to try to get his attention. He turned away from them, blatantly ignoring him as he always did.

Until one voice rose up from the crowd that drew him to a complete stop.

"Katsuki! Katsuki, get your ass over here right now."

He cursed under his breath and clenched his fist, counting down from five before turning around to face his parents standing behind the police lines. His dad looked nervous, wringing his hands together as Mitsuki leaned over the barrier, a deep scowl on her face. Her cheeks were red, her eyes like fire.

"What?" Bakugou hissed, stepping toward them but keeping his distance in case the old hag decided to slap him. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to get in a fight with his mother while there were so many reporters around. "What the hell do you want?"

"Don't you dare talk to me that way." Mitsuki leaned forward more, the barrier leaning precariously toward the ground as an officer rushed to push her back. "I have been texting you and calling you for weeks and you haven't gotten back to me even once. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I don't know. Have you considered that maybe I don't wanna talk to you?"

Something dark flashed in Mitsuki's eyes. His father blew out a breath and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"I can't believe I had to come all this way just to get my son to talk to me," his mom seethed, rolling her eyes. "I had to assume you were here because they said it was Kirishima." Her gaze traveled over his body, her lips pursing into a thin line. "He do that to you?"

Bakugou wiped at one of the cuts on his arms and frowned. "Yeah. So?"

"So? You look like shit. You gonna let him beat the hell out of you like that? And what the hell are you doing letting him get away?" She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest as Masaru finally looked up and waved at his son with a shy, "Hi, Katsuki. Good to see you."

"I'm doing my job the best way I know how," Bakugou said, though he knew it was a lie and it tasted like fire burning in his throat. He took a few steps closer, still out of slapping range, but if she really wanted to get him, she could. "And who the hell are you to criticize me? You're not a hero. You work in a fucking office building –"

"Hey! Watch your tone." She leaned forward, the barrier teetering again under her weight. Her hands were clenched so tightly on the railing that her knuckles were turning white. "If you're giving him any sort of slack just because he used to be your boyfriend, you need to quit it right now. You deserve better than that, Katsuki."

"Tch. I don't need you to weigh in on my love life."

"You still hung up on him?" Mitsuki raised an eyebrow. "Un-fucking-believable. After all the shit he's put you through." She tried to move forward more, but the officer held up a hand, forcing her to stay back. "You know I only want what's best for you. And what's best is moving on. There are plenty of nice boys you went to school with –"

"Please shut up." He could feel warmth at the tips of his fingers, the beginning of a fire swelling in his chest. He glared at her, and she glared back, his own anger reflected back at him. "I do not need relationship advice, and I don't need you checking on me all the time. So just fucking leave me alone and let me do my job."

"Katsuki." He was surprised to hear his father's voice, so calm despite the storm raging before him. "Come to dinner sometime. Let's spend time together as a family again. I'll make my famous pork cutlet bowl and a strawberry cake. How does that sound?"

He swallowed hard, forcing his fists to unfurl as he let out a slow breath. "Fine. But no talking about Kirishima, okay? I'm tired of talking about him. It seems like everything revolves around him all the time and people keep stepping around me and avoiding certain topics like I'm made of fucking glass, and I just. I need it to stop. I'm fine. Everything's fine. I'll get him one day." He set his gaze on his mother. "Or do you wanna try to show me how to fight a fucking rock? You know he's always been a challenge to me."

Mitsuki's expression softened slightly, the corner of her mouth turning into the slightest smile. "I think that's why you liked him so much."

He made no comment on that, instead clearing his throat and saying, "So dinner? Next weekend maybe?"

His dad nodded. "Sounds good, kiddo."

"Don't you dare ignore my fucking texts anymore, Katsuki," his mother warned. "I'm not coming to another crime scene to find you. And if I do, you better believe I'm dragging your ass out in the middle of everyone and letting them know how you treat your mother."

And what about how you treat me? he wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut and nodded. He was doing better at keeping his mouth shut these days.

He stared at the screen of his phone, chewing on the inside of his lip as he tried to decide what he was going to do. It was late at night, so surely the man would already be in bed, but Bakugou wasn't sleeping any time soon, and he needed some sort of guidance, some sort of answer for what the hell he was supposed to do here.

Who better to help than his childhood hero?

After what felt like an eternity of going back and forth, he finally pressed the call button and held the phone up to his ear, listening as it rang. And rang. And rang. On the sixth ring, he started to hang up, but then someone picked up. He sucked in a breath, waiting to hear that familiar voice on the other line.

"Young Bakugou. I haven't heard from you in ages. Is everything alright? You've never tried to contact me this late before."

Bakugou sighed, resting his hand on Mango’s back as she nuzzled against him and purred. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, I –"

"Don't be! I'm more than willing to help you if you're in trouble. Are you in trouble?"

He paused, stretching out over the bed and staring up at the ceiling. "Yeah. Maybe. I don't know."

"Hmm." All Might coughed on the other end, and Bakugou imagined there was blood staining his lips. He couldn't believe the old man hadn't kicked the bucket yet. "Is this something you can't talk to your friends about?"

He kicked at the sheets and rolled his eyes, barely able to keep the bite out of his voice. "If you don't wanna talk to me, just say so. I'll deal with it on my own."

"No, of course I would like to help you! But you have to tell me what it is first."

Bakugou flipped over onto his side, and Mango made a disgruntled noise as she had to readjust herself next to him. He ran his fingers over the sheets he hadn't washed in probably weeks, debating with himself how to phrase what was going on.

Why the fuck had he even called All Might in the first place? What the hell was he going to do?

He thought about hanging up, but that might be worse than calling in the first place. After a long moment of silence, he sighed and asked, "Did the Commission ever…threaten you?"

He was met with silence, more deafening than any answer he could have expected.

Then, "No. Why? Are they threatening you?"

"Tch. I think I'd be the threat to them."

"You haven't lost your confidence, I see." All Might let out a breath and then another cough. "Have they threatened someone else? Young Midoriya, perhaps?"

"No. I mean, I don't know. I just…God!" He sat up suddenly, punching the mattress so aggressively that Mango darted out of the room to escape him. "I just need to know what's going on. Momo and Todoroki and Camie and…" He swallowed. "Kirishima."

"Ah." He said it with finality, like that was the end all to the conversation, like it gave him all of the answers that Bakugou wouldn't dare speak out loud. "You think they threatened Kirishima, and that's why he left?"

"I…don't know."

"I don't think I've ever heard you sound so unsure before. What do you think is happening?"

He licked his lips, painfully dry, and curled his fingers into the sheets. He was shaking, he realized. He would need the pills to help him sleep tonight. "I think there are a lot of people getting hurt, and normally I would mind my own business, but –" He groaned, flopping back onto the bed. "We're pro heroes, right? And heroes are supposed to save people. But there are a lot of people who need saving that are suffering in private and we can't…" He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his voice from breaking. "We can't do anything."

He was crying. Fuck, that was the last thing he wanted, but there were tears rolling down his cheeks, and he pressed his palm over his face, squeezing his eyes shut and begging himself to stop. He had been crying so much lately. He couldn't take it anymore.

"Who do you want to save, young Bakugou? Are you talking about Kirishima?"

He sucked in a very wet, shaky breath and raked a hand through his hair. "Yes. But there are more…and I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Because the people that are supposed to protect us and help us are the ones that I don't trust. I never really trusted them, but I really don't anymore."

"The Commission?"

His heart pounded. If he answered and word got out that he was questioning them, would they revoke his license immediately? Would he ever be able to do hero work again? Or would they just bring him in for a nice brainwashing session like it seemed they were doing with others?

"They never wanted me and Kirishima together," he settled on saying.

All Might didn't respond immediately. There were a few seconds that consisted of deep, guttural coughing, and then more silence. Finally, he said, in a voice so low Bakugou could barely hear him, "No. No, I suppose they didn't."

"He left because he couldn't be with me, and now…now Kaminari and Shinsou, and Momo and Jirou –"

His phone vibrated with a notification, and he put the phone on speaker as he stared at the screen where a headline glared back at him from one of the gossip sites he had bookmarked.

It was a pregnancy announcement. For Uraraka.

His heart stopped beating for a solid few seconds. He felt like his ribs were closing in, making it hard to breathe.

There was no fucking way.

"Uh…I have to go," he said. "Thanks for talking to me. I…I think I'll be okay."

"Are you sure? If you ever need anything –"

"I'll call. Thanks." He hung up, still with no more answers than he had before. In fact, everything seemed to be growing even more difficult to understand.

He got a text message from Ashido with a link to the same article followed by a bunch of smiley face and heart emojis, but he couldn't find any room to be happy for his friend.

This was a very strange time to make an announcement like this, especially when she and Midoriya were at the scene tonight with him. They would have waited if there was anything actually going on.

It was a cover-up, he thought. A way to distract the public from an actual problem by giving them something to be happy about. They wouldn't care what was going on at that love hotel or whatever the fuck it was if two of their top heroes were having a baby.

Everything in his life, it seemed, was a fucking lie.

Chapter Text

“Fucking hell, Eijirou! You just stabbed me in the fucking eye!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Kirishima exclaimed through laughter as he leaned back in to continue applying eyeliner to Bakugou’s left eye. He was seated in Bakugou’s lap, close enough to make Bakugou’s heart stutter and stop as his fingers brushed over his skin and the warm gust of his breath made goosebumps rise along his arms. “I’m not used to doing this on other people. It’s so easy when I do it.”

“Why the hell are you wanting to put eyeliner on me in the first place?”

“Because I think it would look super hot on you.”

He said it so casually, as if he had absolutely no idea the sort of effect he had on Bakugou saying things like that. Bakugou tensed underneath him and looked up at his face, so close to his and twisted in concentration as he drew dark, thick lines over his eyelid. The hotel television was on in the background, the volume turned down low so that he only caught bits and pieces of information here and there. He watched as Kirishima’s tongue poked out just slightly and he squinted one of his eyes, as if that was somehow going to make it easier for him to draw.

Sometimes he wished he had never fallen in love in the first place. It was moments like this when he felt the weakest, and it was somehow both incredible and nauseating.

"Have you talked to Uraraka yet?" Kirishima asked, shifting in Bakugou's lap so that his legs were now wrapped around his hips. Each small movement caused his dick to bump against Bakugou’s belly, and it was doing things to him.

The mention of Uraraka, however, sort of put a dent in his mood. "No. I don't want to."

"It's been over a week. It might help to talk to her and find out what's going on. I know Yaomomo got kind of upset, but I can't imagine Uraraka would." Kirishima leaned forward, bumping his forehead against Bakugou’s, and capped the eyeliner. "All done. I was right. It's super hot. You should wear it when you go out and beat up villains."

"What are they gonna do when a baby doesn't pop out in nine months? I mean, where does it end? Do they find a fake baby? Do they make up some sob story about a miscarriage? Do they tell Uraraka to get pregnant for real?"

Kirishima crawled off of him, and he turned around to face the cracked floor-length mirror behind him, spitting out a curse once he took in his reflection. "Son of a bitch. What the hell?"

"You don't like it?" Kirishima placed his hands on Bakugou’s thighs and leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. "I think it's really sexy."

"I'm not sexy, shut up." He rubbed at his eyes, but the makeup wasn't budging. Gritting his teeth, he turned his head quickly to snap at Kirishima for his stupid idea, but was cut off by Kirishima’s lips brushing against his own.

Maybe the eyeliner didn't look so bad.

"You wanna come cuddle with me?" Kirishima asked. "It's raining outside. It's cuddle weather."

Bakugou grunted but allowed Kirishima to pull him to his feet and drag him to the disheveled hotel bed. He pretended to put up a fight as Kirishima curled his arms around his waist and pulled him up against his chest, but it was a reluctant fight, and he settled in easily. "I mean, what do they do? What happens when there isn't actually a baby?"

"Don't know." His hand drifted over Bakugou’s hip then settled on his stomach, one finger prodding annoyingly at his belly button. "But there's a simple solution."

"Which is?" He smacked Kirishima’s hand away, which only made him tighten his grip and bury his face against Bakugou’s neck.

"Ask Uraraka. Or Midoriya."

"Fuck." He kicked at Kirishima’s leg, and Kirishima wrapped his leg around him, pinning him to the mattress. "You know, they want traditional family values, but there's nothing traditional about them either. They're gonna announce she's pregnant, and they're not even engaged yet? Tch." He rolled his eyes and flipped over so that he was facing Kirishima. "I'm sure it's just because they're nice and they're cute, and they're Japan's sweethearts. They could get away with anything. No one would even bat an eye." He drew a line down Kirishima’s chest with his finger and sighed. "People liked you too."

"Some people didn't."

Bakugou didn't respond to that. He didn't really need to ask who he was talking about. The new scar on his face pretty much answered that. Instead, he laced his fingers through Kirishima’s dark hair and hummed in discontent. "Are you gonna dye your hair back?"

"Someday. When I'm not trying to disappear." He took Bakugou’s hand in his own and kissed over his rough, burned palm.

Bakugou’s heart picked up speed just slightly at the brush of his lips, and he felt all of his thoughts rush away completely as he stared at Kirishima’s mouth. He couldn't help himself. He closed the distance between them, smashing their lips together in a hungry, needy kiss that left him feeling like he was floating. Kirishima was far gentler with him, though, holding Bakugou’s face in his big hands and kissing him slowly and carefully, like he was going to break. Like all of this was going to break if they made one wrong move.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, limbs tangled together and mouths and fingers feeling each other out. The rain pounded on the roof, the wind shook the glass door leading to the balcony. The dull voice of a news reporter droned on about new sea travel mandates following a fight that occurred on a boat two weeks ago. Tsu had been there.

Kirishima pulled away to take a breath, resting his forehead against Bakugou’s, and Bakugou cracked open an eye to meet Kirishima’s gaze. He was smiling at him in a way that no one ever smiled at him, like he was something precious, something that deserved to be admired. It always made him feel sort of squirmy and fluttery.

"Do you think I could come back to the apartment soon?" Kirishima asked.

The question caught Bakugou so off guard that he jerked out of Kirishima’s arms, sitting up to glare at him as he turned the words over in his mind. It felt like everything had just sort of stopped, his mind, his heart, the entire world just shutting down like lights blinking off. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, his muscles tense. "T-to live?" And he cursed himself for stuttering, but he had not thought about Kirishima back in their apartment, back in his life like that, walking around their living room and sleeping in their bed and taking up space in their closet. Not when he had been nothing but a ghost haunting the place for so long.

"No, I would never ask that! Don't freak out. I see you freaking out." He placed his hands on Bakugou’s shoulders, but Bakugou shook him off, scowling, angry, unsure where to direct it.

He slapped Kirishima’s hand, still hovering in the air between them. "I'm not freaking out. I don't…freak out."

"You're scared."

He flinched as if he had been slapped, settling his gaze on Kirishima’s perfectly placid face. "You shut the fuck up. You have no idea what you're talking about."

He didn't get scared. Nothing scared him. Not villains, not the Commission, not bad dreams or monsters or losing or –

"If you don't want me to come by, just say so. Honestly, it's not gonna hurt my feelings. I just thought…" Kirishima shrugged. "I thought it might be nice. To spend time with you. To see Mango. To make things feel a little more…normal."

Bakugou clenched his fist in his lap, trying to think of a proper response but coming up short because all he could feel was rage, all he could see was fire, and there was nothing but darkness and chaos all around him. "Things aren't normal," he hissed. "They're not ever going to be normal again. And it's your fault."

"Bakugou –" He tried to touch him, but Bakugou jerked away, his heart hammering like a drumline in his ears. "Katsuki. I'm sorry. I should have waited to ask. I was worried it might be too soon –"

"How would you even expect to come over anyway? They have cameras pointed at my front door. I can't fucking step outside without someone wondering where I'm going." He scoffed, shaking his head. "You're fucking stupid."

Kirishima's face fell. It looked like his whole body sort of sagged closer to the bed. "Are you sure that's what you're worried about?"

Bakugou wrinkled his nose, his lip curling back as he almost threw out very bitter, biting words, then stopped himself as his stomach did a very uncomfortable flip that made him feel like he was going to be sick. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean, are you worried about me being caught, or are you scared about what might happen between us after?” He reached out to touch Bakugou, hesitated, then put his hand down.

Bakugou didn’t need to ask anymore questions; he knew exactly what Kirishima was implying. Still, though, the idea of him being scared of something so simple as intimacy, as sliding back into a routine, as forgiving and moving forward instead of holding a grudge…

He crossed his arms loosely over his chest, turning his head away from Kirishima’s piercing gaze. “What do you think might happen after?”

“I…don’t know. I just think you’re afraid to have me so close to your life. Meeting up here keeps me at a distance, I guess. It separates me from the rest of everything. I don’t think you’re really ready to let me back in.”

“Tch.” He rolled his eyes, tried to brush it off, but the rush of blood in his ears, the pounding sound of the rain drilling into his mind, was overpowering, and everything suddenly felt very heavy. He could barely force himself to swallow. The air felt too thick to breathe. “Congratulations, asshole. I guess you know everything now.”

“I don’t know everything. I barely know anything at all. But I know you, and I’m taking back the last few minutes and pretending it never happened, and I hope you can too.”

Bakugou hesitated, running his hand along the stiff, wrinkled sheets beneath him and trying to ignore the fact that he was shaking, and he wasn’t even sure why because he felt drained of emotion. The fire had burned out. Now he was just…cold. And hollow. He flicked his gaze up to Kirishima’s face again, lingering on the corner of his mouth twitching up into an almost smile, the pink flush at the top of his cheeks, the dark hair brushing over his forehead. Slowly, he nodded, and his body was moving before he could even think, before he even realized how desperate he looked and how willingly he let himself break around Kirishima.

Kirishima never laughed at him, though, he never made him feel bad about falling apart. He already had his arms open and welcoming him in before Bakugou even made a move, and he fell into Kirishima’s arms more than willingly, sighing in relief as he felt fingers slip through his hair and stop at the back of his neck. He settled into Kirishima’s lap, closing his legs around his hips and wrapping his arms around his neck as he bumped their foreheads together. He heard Kirishima’s breath hitch, and he found himself flooded with something like pride, knowing that for some reason he still had that sort of effect on him. His lips brushed over his cheek, and Kirishima tilted his head up to brush their lips together.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have –”

“I just can’t.” He finally managed to take in his first good breath after a long few minutes. “Not yet.”

“Okay.” Kirishima wrapped his arms around his waist, his fingers drawing small circles at the base of his spine, and Bakugou felt the pressure that had been building up in his chest whoosh out of him.

“How much longer do you have?” Kirishima asked, his lips brushing over Bakugou’s jaw and down his neck.

He sighed, mostly in frustration. He had a late night shift today, but before that, he would have to endure something even more torturous: dinner with his parents.

“An hour, maybe. God, I don’t wanna go. Mitsuki is driving me fucking insane texting me all the time. She acts like she’s so fucking worried, but she’s just nosy –”

“Your mom cares about you,” Kirishima said. “Maybe not in the same way that my moms show their affection, but she cares. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t bother texting you at all.”

God. He hated when Kirishima talked about things so rationally. Sometimes he just wanted to bitch about something, and he didn't need things to be rational.

Kirishima had saved him from a lot of trouble in the past, though. He kept him grounded in a way no one else ever could.

"I –" He started, then shut his mouth as he traced his fingers down Kirishima’s chest, letting his nails scrape lightly over his skin. I wish you could come with me, he wanted to say, but what kind of sense did that make when he wouldn't even let Kirishima near their apartment?

Kirishima seemed to pick up on his energy anyway, because he slid both his hands up to rest on Bakugou’s cheeks, and he bumped their noses together as he kissed him, long and deep and a little less careful than he was before. The press of his lips against Bakugou’s transferred both reassurance and a profound longing that nearly made his heart burst into flames. He clung to him tighter than he ever had before, and even before Kirishima moved away he could already feel their time drawing to a close. It couldn't stay like this forever, after all.

If only he had known that when he signed up to be a hero.

"I'm sorry we can't go out and do things like we used to do," Kirishima said, his voice thin and small and shaking. His thumbs brushed over the skin under Bakugou’s eyes and down to the corners of his mouth. The feel of his hands ghosting over Bakugou's neck, dancing over his pulse, made him feel very oddly safe. "I wanna go to the gym with you and fight and go on runs with you and take you on walks in the park and make you feel special."

The fire burning in his chest was close to exploding. He could feel it crackling through the rest of his body, down to the tips of his shaking fingers resting on Kirishima’s chest. His lips twitched with words he couldn't get out, so instead he said, "You can still fight me."

Kirishima exhaled, a noise that almost sounded like a laugh but not quite. "You know it's not the same."

Bakugou sighed, pressing his face into Kirishima’s neck and inhaling his scent, always something outdoorsy with a hint of cinnamon, always enough to ease the tension in his body. “Yeah. I know.”

They sat in silence for a while, nothing but the sound of the rain and the voices on the television drifting around them. Bakugou could hear little tidbits of the conversation the reporters were having on television, something about the mandates and how they were going to affect hero work.

“We have a lot of heroes who make it their mission to do search and rescue at sea. Froppy, for example. And with so many docks setting curfews and changing loading and unloading times and rerouting their ships to avoid high-level –”

“Speaking of Froppy, I heard she’s got her eyes on a certain tall, dark, and handsome hero. The Jet-Black Hero Tsukuyomi, anyone? What do we think about that?”

“Oh, I would love that! They were classmates and friends at U.A., and some other U.A. graduates have commented on the nature of their relationship before they went pro. It’s in the stars, everyone. They’re perfect together.”

“Let us know your thoughts on our Twitter…”

Bakugou pulled away, turning just slightly so that he could see the reporters on the fuzzy, low-quality television. Why they had even turned on the news, he had no idea, but he wanted to blast the stupid TV to hell now. It was always, always like this. Covering up important topics with stupid fluff stories.

“And what do we think about the Internet drama between Intelli Saiko and Tsunotori Pony?”

“Unbelievable! So unnecessary! But of course, if we’re choosing sides, I’m Team Pony…”

“Ugh.” Bakugou rolled off of Kirishima and toward the nightstand, immediately grabbing the remote control and turning off the news. “Such bullshit. I never watch this shit. Did they used to be so fucking dense?”

“Yeah. Not much has changed.”

Bakugou groaned and flopped over to bury his face in the thin pillow. “God, I wanted people to talk about how awesome my Quirk was and how I was the best damn hero they’ve ever seen. I didn’t think people would care so much about who heroes were fucking and arguing with in their spare time. I never cared about that shit. I always wanted to see All Might kick someone’s ass.”

“I think people still care about that stuff.” Kirishima rolled over and ran light fingers over Bakugou’s back, raising goosebumps wherever he touched. “I just think they use stuff like this to cover up for what’s actually going on. Like have you noticed they haven’t actually been saying much about what happened at the love hotel? They haven’t really mentioned me at all. It’s all about Uraraka and Tsu and anyone else they can grab onto so they can cover their tracks. It’s all a distraction.”

He hadn’t thought much about it, but the news had been oddly quiet about what happened at Wonderland. They’d barely mentioned Kirishima at all.

“See? If they can get people talking about something else, then they don’t have to worry about what the Commission is up to.”

Yaomomo flashed through his mind, and Jirou, and Camie, and Todoroki. Shinsou, Ashido, Kaminari, Sero. How many people were suffering in silence and afraid to speak up?

“Damn it,” he hissed under his breath, punching the mattress. How the hell was he supposed to call himself a hero when he didn’t even know how to save the people around him?

He didn’t bother dressing up to go to his childhood home. Mitsuki would probably smack him on the back of the head and call him a heathen or some shit, but he could deal with that. He was sure no matter what, there was going to be an explosive argument between the two of them while his dad just sat there and watched, trying to speak calming affirmations that didn’t reach either of them. He and his mother were just too much alike, and they were always just feeling so much. It was inevitable to clash.

He got off the subway a few blocks from his parents’ neighborhood and walked the rest of the way with his hood pulled over his head and his hands shoved in his pockets, hoping no one recognized him in the dim light of the evening like he had been recognized on the subway. He didn’t mind people gushing because, hell yeah, he knew how powerful he was. It was all the autographs and the questions and the pictures that he hated. The only questions he wanted to answer were the ones that allowed him to brag, and those were rare nowadays.

It was a mostly silent walk except for a few kids playing heroes and villains in the street and a family out for a walk with their dog, but as he was approaching the corner store where he was always sent to pick up last-minute groceries for his mom as a kid, he heard a roar of voices emerge, like a crowd chanting at a concert. It took a few seconds, but as he got closer and the sounds grew louder, he could make out what they were saying.

His heart stopped beating and fell into his stomach.

“No more heroes! No more heroes! No more heroes! No more heroes!”

He remembered the graffiti in the abandoned part of town that he saw, fresh and bleeding on the old, decrepit building. How stupid it had seemed at the time. What was a world without heroes? What would it be like if the good and moral just disappeared? Darkness, despair, chaos. Were people really okay letting villains run rampant, not having a group of powerful humans taking care of them?

He still thought it was stupid. Wiping out heroes completely was a huge mistake. But wiping out the society that had built them and starting fresh?

He still wasn’t sure where he stood on that one.

As he drifted closer, he caught a whiff of something burning and saw smoke curling up into the sky. The voices were growing louder. He picked up his pace, but not enough to draw attention to himself as he approached whatever was happening on the streets he knew so well from his childhood.

A woman’s voice rose above the others, clearly being magnified by a megaphone or some sort of voice Quirk. “We can’t just stand by and let them decide who’s worthy and who isn’t! We can’t let them control us! We can’t let them take our futures away from us!”

What the hell were they talking about? Worthy? No one was saying who was and wasn’t worthy of –

Oh.

He drew to a halt briefly, remembering how Chameleon Man talked about society deciding who he was before he could make any choices himself. He remembered how he had told Deku to kill himself because he was Quirkless.

Everything revolved around heroes, having the best Quirk, building a better and safer future for the world.

“How can we trust them when their own can’t even trust them? Red Riot left! He wants them gone! What does that tell you about the people that are supposed to be protecting us?”

He’s delusional. That’s what Bakugou had heard. At least, that’s what he had heard from the Commission and other people in that circle, his therapist, his doctor, his PR manager. But there were people who were genuinely concerned about why Kirishima left. There were people who genuinely believed in his cause. And from the sound of it, their numbers were growing.

“No more heroes! No more heroes!”

He rounded the corner and was shocked to see the crowd that had formed. Dozens upon dozens of people, and still, there were more pouring in. There were people poking their heads out of shops and windows to see what was going on, and he could see that some of them were nodding along.

“They told me that I was a demon! That I had Shinigami Eyes! No one wanted to be around me because they thought I would tell them they were going to die. I didn't have any friends. I didn't have anyone to turn to! I was a monster!"

There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd, people with different Quirks who might have gone through the same treatment. Or people with no Quirk at all. All of them made to be worthless members of society by people who saw themselves as stronger and better.

People like Bakugou.

They were burning something in the middle of the rally, it looked like, but he didn't get close enough to see what it was. He stayed at the sidelines, barely registering anything that was happening in front of him. In the past, he would have been headstrong and determined. He would have rushed in immediately and tried to break it all up, cursing and blasting anyone who dared to talk badly about pro heroes when he had been born to become one himself.

But people had a right to speak. And he wasn't necessarily sure what they were saying was wrong.

"Red Riot wanted a society where people like us could thrive! The weak, the neglected, the oppressed. Now is our chance to rise up, to make them see the wrongs they've put us through for decades! It's time to put an end to Quirk discrimination!"

He found himself backing away, not even realizing he was doing it until he smacked into a streetlight that had not been there a few moments before. No one was paying attention to him, but he still had this bitter taste in his mouth, something he couldn't quite put a name to.

Kirishima hadn't left to become a voice for the voiceless, but he was certainly making an impact now, giving them a platform to speak all of the words they had been too afraid to utter before.

What would people say if they knew the real reasons he left? Would it only fuel the fire more?

He turned and ran before he could catch anything else going on. He didn't want to hear, didn't want to see, because the whole world that he had grown up in was crumbling right before him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to stop it.

He took the dimly lit back roads to his parents' house, running as if he was a villain trying to escape from police, not stopping for even a second to think, to breathe. His chest felt tight, his legs wobbly, and he ran, ran until he reached the familiar sidewalk leading up to a familiar white door and familiar windows lit up with warm, golden light. He collapsed on the doormat, panting, his heart beating painfully fast.

Everything was falling apart. Everything he thought was real and tangible was just an illusion. And Kirishima had managed to see through it before he could.

Gulping in air, he pulled himself up on shaky arms and leaned against the door. His clothes clung to him uncomfortably with sweat, but he felt cold and empty and…not exactly scared. But there was something there, something lurking in the shadows that would jump out and swallow him whole.

The door opened, and he nearly tumbled backward right into his mother, who stood before him looking gravely concerned and a little bit pissed.

"What the hell are you doing on the ground? Get your ass up! It's freezing outside."

He couldn't even think of a retort for her as he stood up and entered the house. It smelled like warm spices and sugar, which should have been at least a little bit comforting, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something big was about to happen.

"What's going on with you?" his mom demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. "You look pale. You sick? Oh god, you got the flu? Damn it, Katsuki, you can't be bringing that shit in here –"

"I'm not sick, you old wench," he said with a roll of his eyes as he plopped onto the couch. He debated whether or not he should mention anything to them. He didn't know how they felt about Kirishima right now, if they still thought there was salvation for him or if he was public enemy number one. He didn't want them to worry, but…

"Do you know what's going on down the street at the corner store?"

His mom raised an eyebrow and shook her head. "I was down there earlier getting some milk and sugar. Why? That what's got you looking like a damn ghost?"

His tongue felt too heavy in his mouth. He tried to swallow, but his throat ached, and he still felt like he wasn't getting enough air. "There are a lot of people that are mad at the Commission. And at pro heroes. They're protesting down there, talking about putting an end to Quirk discrimination."

His dad popped his head in from the kitchen, looking mildly disheveled in his green apron and his oven mitt. He leaned against the doorframe, nodding along. "Yeah, I thought I saw a flier for that somewhere. Didn't think much of it. There couldn't have been too many people that showed up, right? I mean." He gestured to Bakugou. "My son and his friends have the world in good hands."

Bakugou gripped the couch cushion, hoping that they couldn't tell how badly he was shaking. "There were dozens of people there. I couldn't tell how many. And they just kept coming. They don't trust us. They don't…" He paused, sucking in a breath. "Kirishima has started something, and I don't think it's going to stop now."

Both of his parents were silent, which was unusual to him, and it made his skin crawl. Mitsuki, at least, should have been saying something, but she stood there looking at the ground and scowling like it had done something to personally slight her.

He looked around the room, taking in the familiarity of it and trying to calm his racing heart. When he was much younger, this place would have given him great comfort in times of trouble, but as he looked around at all the family portraits, at the smirking face of a small boy who already thought he was better than everyone else, all he could think was that he was part of the problem.

How many of those people out there were people that he bullied mercilessly before he got to U.A.? Did they remember? Were they holding him personally accountable for the things they had gone through in life? Did they look at him now and think about how badly they wanted to get back at him, to put him in his place the way he had so often tried to put them in theirs? Lower on the social ladder, less worthy of existing.

He had told Deku to kill himself...

"Dinner's almost done," his dad finally said. "Come sit at the table."

He obeyed, hardly even thinking as his feet carried him to the dining table, followed by Mitsuki, who was setting out plates and silverware.

"What do you want to drink?" she asked, voice harsh.

"Do you have beer?"

Mitsuki paused, glaring at him like he had called her a bad name. "No the fuck I don't, and if you're gonna drink in this house, you're staying the night. And you're gonna do it with a clear head, not just so you can try to run away from your feelings."

Masaru eyed her warily from where he stood in front of the stove and pulled a bottle of wine from the cabinet. "Just take it easy, okay?"

"Yeah, weren't you the one not wanting to talk about Kirishima?" Mitsuki asked as she poured him a glass. "Yet you barge in here and immediately start –"

"You have no fucking idea what's going on, do you? He's gonna dismantle the Commission, and there's gonna be a fucking war." His mother handed him his glass, and he downed it in one gulp. "I don't know what the hell is going through his mind or why he thinks any of this is gonna work out for him, but –"

"What did you do to him?" Mitsuki asked, leaning over the counter with her own wine glass in hand.

He stared at her, hesitating, unsure if he heard her correctly. From the way his father was tensed behind her, he could assume that he did. He clenched his fist in his lap, tried to make himself breathe, to at least remain calm for a little while.

But that wasn't in his nature. He'd gotten it from his mother, after all. She was a ticking time bomb just as much as he was.

"What the fuck did you say to me?"

Masaru turned around then, opening his mouth to intervene, but Mitsuki was quicker.

"You don't fucking talk to me like that," she hissed, slamming her wine glass down on the counter. "I let it slide when you were younger, but I'm not dealing with it anymore. You can't just come in here yelling at me because you're a pro hero now and you think you're something great –"

"Is that what you think this is?" He stood from the table, took a few steps closer to his mom, but she wasn't backing down.

He was an exact replica of her, he realized. Same eyes, same hair, same bad attitude. His entire childhood had been explosive.

"What the hell do you mean what did I do to him? As if it's somehow my fault that all of this is happening –"

"Maybe if you would have been a little bit more proactive, then –"

"What? What the hell did you want me to do? I was doing the best I fucking could with him, and he just…he fucking left! And now –"

"Now you better get your ass into gear and put a stop to this shit before it gets out of hand. Honest to God, Katsuki, it's as if you just don't fucking pay attention –"

"Pay attention? You think I wasn't paying attention when he was fucking trying to kill himself and –"

"Stop. You know what I'm trying to say."

"No the hell I don't! It sounds an awful lot like you're blaming me. Just like you fucking blamed me when those low-level asshole villains fucking kidnapped me and held me four fucking days!"

"Katsuki, Mitsuki –"

They were yelling. He could barely register the words coming out of her mouth, barely even thought as he yelled back at her. He could feel pressure building in his chest, the familiar crackle at his fingertips. There were still scorch marks on the walls from where he and Mitsuki had fought it out when he was a child.

But he didn't want to fight her. Not really. Because what was the point? It wasn't going to accomplish anything, and he could see that now. She had her thoughts on his life, and he could see very well now how badly she misjudged him, how far away she was from understanding him. He was an exact copy of her, and still she couldn't see it. It was his fault. Everything was his fault. And the world was so, so loud. His ears were ringing, drowning out the sounds of their screams and the explosion that cracked the table in half.

If he would have just been better, he wouldn't have been kidnapped.

If he would have just been better, Kirishima would have never left.

He wasn't sure what happened, if he blacked out from the rage consuming him, but the next thing he knew, he was on the floor, and his dad was trying to help him up, offering water and food and safety as he spoke in hushed, reassuring tones. Mitsuki was fuming, and for a fleeting second, as he was drawn to his feet, he thought that maybe the Commission was right in trying to control which Quirks got passed on to future generations and which ones died, because then, there wouldn't be people like Mitsuki.

Then, there wouldn't be people like him.

"Katsuki," his mom said, the anger in her voice dying for just a moment as she reached out to him, but his head was reeling, and he wasn't sure where he stood or what he thought or why things were the way that they were.

Other than the fact that Mitsuki was right; it was his fault. He could have asked what was wrong, they could have fought together.

And now everything was fucked.

"I'm going home," he said, jerking his arm from his father's grip, making sure to shoot a particularly nasty look at his mom. His mom, who he was sure loved him but could not ever show it like a normal person.

And now she had passed it on to him, and he was a walking disaster.

"You should eat something," his dad said, but he shook his head, already headed toward the door, completely burned out. He would have to keep his distance until things cooled down.

As he emerged into the cold night air once again, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and the pressure in his chest lightened just a bit.

But he wouldn't be able to shake the voice inside his head, the one that kept him up all night no matter how much wine he drank or how many pills he took.

All your fault…all your fault…

Chapter Text

Cheers rose up around Bakugou as he kneeled next to the villain he had just knocked to the ground. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling with each harsh, grating breath. Sweat coated his skin, his hair and his clothes sticking uncomfortably to his body. His arms and legs ached, and yet the adrenaline pumping through his veins made him feel so, so alive. It was a damn shame that the fight was over. He could keep going for hours and hours if he had the chance.

This was the reason he had become a pro hero, this feeling right here. It was a better high than any drug he had ever tried.

“Get – off of – me!” the villain exclaimed, wriggling against Bakugou’s hold on him. He thrashed around, kicking his legs, and Bakugou pressed a knee into his back, further pinning him to the sidewalk.

“Stop struggling, asshole,” he said smugly as cameras flashed around him. There were reporters from at least five different stations recounting the events of the last two hours in their own words, and all of them would be looking for an interview once they got this villain out of the way. It would be an excellent opportunity for him to brag about himself. His popularity had slipped in the pro hero polls after the Wonderland incident, and Inoue had almost lost his shit over it. But after this, he would have no issue climbing back up.

Hell, maybe he’d overtake Uraraka. And he’d come for Icy Hot next.

“Oh, you gotta have a good show, don’t you?” the villain taunted, his thin lips curling back into a sneer. He tilted his head to look up at Bakugou, his snakelike tongue flicking out between his teeth, and something dark flashed over his face. “You pro heroes and your stupid morality trips. Gotta make an example out of us, huh? You hate villains, am I right? Think we're subhuman?" He snorted, shaking his head. "Nah, you don't care about anything except your perfect hero society. I bet you want all of us dead. Except for the ones you're fucking, I guess."

Bakugou felt his body go cold, and the world seemed to fade away for just a moment as he stared at this man, at this monster he had just finished fighting. The man grinned at him, his lips curled back into a cruel smile. Blood stained his jagged teeth where it continued to drip from his broken nose. And yet he didn't seem to care. He was entirely too pleased with himself, and Bakugou could hardly breathe, couldn't even think about getting words out.

He cleared his throat, loosening his hold on the villain just slightly as he dropped his voice to a whisper. He was ashamed that it came out so shaky. "W-what the fuck did you just say to me?"

"Ha! You thought you were being sneaky, huh? Word gets around, hero. And I can't wait until the world knows how much of a disgusting traitor you are. We'll tear down hero society one hero at a time, starting with you –"

Bakugou slammed the villain's head into the concrete, and the man let out a weak cry as blood sprayed in front of him. "Shut the fuck up," Bakugou hissed. "You don't know anything –"

"You think he would come back to you after all this time because he missed you? When he didn't even call for two years? You think this is all happening at the same time simply by coincidence? You underestimate what living in the shadows of society can do to a person –”

“Fuck off,” Bakugou hissed. He had no idea how this man knew so many details about his life, if Kirishima so openly shared things like that with wanted criminals like himself, but the image of it pushed its way to the forefront of his mind, of Kirishima sitting around with a bunch of lowlifes laughing at him while he lied to him and manipulated him into thinking he came because he cared.

No. He had no idea what this guy had heard, but he was wrong about Kirishima’s motives. He was wrong.

“What’s the matter? Did I say something to upset you?” The villain chuckled and shook his head. “How weak, how pathetic, how –”

Bakugou grabbed the back of his shirt and jerked him to his feet, dragging him down the sidewalk to where the reporters and police officers stood beyond the caution tape and the barriers they had set up against the crowd. A few people gasped and cheered as he passed by, while reporters thrusted their microphones in his face, rattling off questions he had no interest in answering. All he cared about right now was getting this asshole as far away from him as possible and locked behind bars for good.

The villain cackled, a high-pitched noise that grated through his bones as he tossed him against the barrier toward the police. One officer, a younger guy who looked fresh out of high school, staggered forward and grabbed the villain as he went crashing back to the ground, still bleeding, still laughing.

"What's the problem, hero?" the villain asked, turning to look back at Bakugou. His yellow eyes flashed with amusement. "You can't handle facing your own insecurities? You can dish it out, but you can't take it?"

"What's going on?" an older police officer asked as he jogged over to where the younger one stood, sweating and unsure of himself. "Bakugou, is everything –"

"Get this fucker away from me. I don’t ever want to see him again."

The officer blinked, then nodded as the younger one rattled off, "Yes sir, Mr. Dynamight, sir," and dragged the laughing villain back toward the police van, where he would be transported to a high-security prison.

"They'll find you out soon enough, hero! Don't you worry! And then your whole world will cave in."

The younger officer slammed the door in his face while he was still yelling.

Bakugou stared after him, the corners of his vision darkening as his heart hammered an unsteady rhythm. He knew he needed to go, to do something, anything to make himself useful, but all he could hear was that horrible cackling and your whole world will cave in.. As if it wasn't already.

"Anything I can do for you?" the older police officer asked, tilting his head in concern.

Bakugou swallowed, forcing out a breath, and nodded. "Yeah. Does that guy only have a mutant Quirk? What's his deal?"

"Hmm." The officer pulled out a tablet and opened up his files, scrolling through until he found what he was looking for. The deep frown etched on his face was unsettling. "Mutant Quirk, yes, but he also has a mind-reading Quirk. It appears that he can feed off of someone's negative energy and read what's causing it. Could be very, very dangerous. Good thing we got him tonight, right?"

He nodded, the knot in his stomach unfurling just slightly. "Yeah. Right."

The police officer smiled at him and clapped him on the shoulder. "You should get to your interviews. We can handle it from here."

He nodded again, numb, unfeeling, and turned back toward the crowd, barely registering the shouts of praise and the questions being thrown his way. He wasn't in the mood for an interview anymore. It didn't matter that people were celebrating him, that people were waiting to fawn over him and compliment him in ways that would make his ego swell. He didn't care.

That guy had felt a negative energy from him and shoved himself into Bakugou’s brain and grabbed at the first thing he could catch, a thought that Bakugou hadn't even known was present. Until that very moment, he hadn't consciously thought anything about Kirishima’s return, only knowing that he wanted to see him again, that he wanted things to be right again.

But now…

Had he been worried all along?

The door to the apartment complex they'd just stormed busted open, and Ashido and Uraraka came out hauling two more villains alongside them that Bakugou hadn't seen. Both were unconscious and slumped to the ground as the women high-fived each other and hugged.

Bakugou glanced at the bodies of the villains before them, then up at Ashido and Uraraka, their faces bright with laughter and joy. They had nothing to worry about dealing with this guy's sidekicks; they hadn't had someone force their way into their minds. And he hadn't even noticed anything! There was no warning sign, no pain, not even a slight tingly feeling to signal to him that something was there. It was a powerful Quirk, one that the police officer had very much downplayed a few minutes before, and now Bakugou felt violated, like he needed to scrub his mind out but couldn't.

Villains were getting too strong. Maybe…

No. He couldn't think like that. The Commission was wrong. What they were doing was wrong.

But shaping the next generation of heroes might very well be the only thing that would save them from villains like that emerging.

"Bakugou! Hey!" Ashido waved him over, grinning from ear to ear as cameras flashed around them and she struck casual poses to make it seem not-quite-candid but almost. "It was crazy in there, right? Geez. How long before you decide to take a break, babe?" She poked Uraraka’s belly. "Can't risk harming the baby!"

Uraraka chuckled and covered her stomach, tensing with embarrassment. If possible, her cheeks grew redder. "It'll be a few months before I slow down. I can handle it."

"How far along are you?" Bakugou asked.

Uraraka looked up at him with a tiny gasp, her eyes widening just a bit. She hesitated, studying him, obviously trying to figure out why he of all people was interested in her pregnancy, then forced a smile and said, "Just a couple of months. I only found out two weeks ago."

Bakugou raised an eyebrow. "Right before the Wonderland incident?"

Uraraka was silent for a long five seconds before nodding. "Yes. The night before."

She stared at Bakugou. Bakugou stared back. They were waiting for the other to crack, to say what was actually on their minds. Bakugou was half a second away from making accusations before Ashido jumped in with a sound of disgust and said, "Will you two stop being weird? This is a celebration! Let's get through our interviews and go out for a late dinner. Ochako, you should call Deku up and see if he wants to come too."

Uraraka nodded, the tension melting from her shoulders as she pulled out her phone to send a text. "Sounds good! I'm starving."

"Well, duh! You're eating for two now!"

"I'm gonna head home."

They both looked up at Bakugou, frowning, waiting for an explanation, but he didn't owe them one, nor did he care to discuss it. Not if Uraraka wasn't going to tell anyone the truth.

"Oh?" Ashido finally said. "Are you feeling okay? Do you have a fever? I know the flu is going around –"

"I'm fine. I just…don't feel like being around people right now."

Uraraka and Ashido exchanged a glance, speaking to each other in some way that Bakugou could not understand.

Then Ashido hugged him. It shocked him so much he didn't even fight her off. He couldn't remember her ever hugging him before, and he certainly didn't understand why it was happening now, of all times. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tightly, pressing her face into his chest and standing there for at least a full minute before Bakugou stepped out of her grasp and pushed her away.

She sighed, tucking a strand of her pink hair behind her ears as she shuffled her feet on the sidewalk. "I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?" he asked.

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, and there was sadness there, sadness that felt deeply personal and made him squirm with discomfort. "That we don't know how to be there for you. You're going through a lot, and we want to help you. We just don't know what to do."

He cleared his throat, taking a step away from her. He could feel sweat pooling on his forehead, dripping down his skin. His nerves were already shot. He couldn't handle this right now. Not tonight.

"I'm fine," he said. "I told you. I'm not going through anything." She opened her mouth to argue, but he held his hand up to stop her. "I don't give a shit about Kirishima, okay? I've made my peace with it. You should too."

Ashido shook her head and let out a breath. "You're a terrible liar, Katsuki."

The use of his first name sent a shiver up his spine. It felt too close, too intimate. It took him a moment to catch his breath. "I need some time," he finally said.

Uraraka nodded and held her hand out to him. He didn't take it, so she closed the distance between them and took his hand herself. "Go get some rest. We can handle the press."

He snorted. "Careful. Don't stress yourself too much. It'd be bad for the baby."

She chewed her bottom lip and made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. "Goodnight, Bakugou."

He cast a glance at Ashido before pulling his hand from Uraraka’s grasp and walking away.

The streets looked darker and lonelier at night. There weren't as many people out, and the quiet was almost suffocating.

It was only a few blocks away to his apartment, so he walked, suffering in silence. Every footstep sounded like a crack of thunder, every gentle wind like a heavy sigh. His body still buzzed with adrenaline, every inch of him tingling and itching for another fight, but the worry crept in like water seeping into his lungs, drowning him.

He knew Kirishima wasn't using him; he wasn't an idiot. But that asshole villain had planted a seed of doubt in his mind that was growing and blooming far too quickly for him to control. He hadn't seen Kirishima since before going to the disaster of a dinner at his parents' house, and he had no news or any intel of where he might be or what he could be doing. He wanted to talk to him about the riot he had stumbled upon, about the rapidly growing movement to destroy hero culture.

He wanted someone to tell him that the world wasn't falling apart.

As he passed underneath a flickering streetlight, a piece of paper fluttering in the wind caught his eye. It turned somersaults in the wind, and he stepped on it and picked it up, scanning over the words. Another protest scheduled. This one would take place outside of Endeavor's old agency that Icy Hot had taken over.

The image of Todoroki flashed through his mind, and instead of the awful hatred and jealousy that had plagued his thoughts of the other man in the past, he just felt…sort of sad. And confused.

He crumpled up the paper and tossed it into a puddle as he stomped down the sidewalk. If the Commission wanted to arrange Quirk marriages and play with Quirks so they could form the perfect heroes, were they also trying to shape the perfect villains? Did they want the entire narrative in their hands, like they were playing God?

Something grabbed him from the shadows, and he shouted as he was tugged from the street into an alley and tossed a blind explosion at his assailant. It cracked against a brick wall right next to Kirishima’s head.

"Nice to see you too," Kirishima said with a cheeky grin.

Bakugou sighed in frustration, jerking his arm from Kirishima’s grip. "Fuck you. I could have blasted your head off. What the hell are you doing lurking around my apartment building?"

Kirishima’s face fell. Bakugou felt something heavy settle in his chest. He'd referred to it as his apartment building. As if it couldn't belong to Kirishima anymore.

"I was hoping to catch you on the way home," he said. "I know this is the way you usually like to take." He reached out, tentatively at first, and brushed Bakugou’s hair out of his eyes. "You look pretty rough. What happened?"

Bakugou shrugged. "Standard fight with a villain. You know how it is."

They were silent as the seconds ticked by, staring at one another but not knowing what else to say. It didn't used to be this awkward, trying to make conversation. Kirishima had been one of the only people he could bear to talk with for hours without taking a break, and now…now it felt like there were no words left.

Finally, Bakugou opted to speak first. "So this guy that I was fighting –" he said, at the same time Kirishima said, "I think I may have found where they took –"

They paused.

"Go ahead."

"No, you can go."

Bakugou cleared his throat. Awkward. It made his skin crawl. "The guy that I was fighting could read minds, and he said something to me that's really been bothering me. About you."

Kirishima leaned against the exploded brick wall, his face pinched with worry. "About me?"

"Yeah. About how all of this seems to be happening at the same time you decided to get in touch with me again, and how it wasn't a coincidence."

"I don't understand – wait." Kirishima took a step toward him. He took a step back. "You think that I wanted to see you so that I could use you for information or something?"

Saying it out loud, it sounded ridiculous, but still there was just this little inkling of doubt, a slight tingle that didn't feel quite right. "I…don't know. Would you?"

"No!" Kirishima exclaimed. He looked offended that Bakugou had even suggested it. "Katsuki, he was trying to mess with you. You know there isn't anyone that's more important to me than you."

The silence swelled between them, the air oppressive and suffocating. Bakugou backed up until he was against the opposite wall from Kirishima, staring at him through the darkness. Waiting. There wasn't much else to say. They either trusted each other or they didn't.

"Why were you gone for so long? Why did you come back now? There are people rioting in the streets! Lots of people who are not happy with pro heroes –"

"It's not the pro heroes they're mad at," Kirishima explained, his voice even and calm despite the rage in Bakugou’s. "It's the hero culture they grew up in. There are a lot of people really tired of being treated like second-class citizens just because they weren't born with a strong, flashy Quirk."

Bakugou grimaced. "Not everyone can be a hero."

"It's not about becoming a hero. It's about being treated equally. And people are not treated equally. Midoriya –"

"Do not fucking talk to me about him," Bakugou hissed, his voice wavering with unshed tears that stung at the back of his eyes. Hadn't he repented for everything he'd done? Hadn't he received just punishment over the years? Why was it still coming up? Why couldn't he just live?

"I'm sorry." Kirishima shuffled his feet across the gravel, staring down at the ground like it was the most interesting thing he had seen all day. After several long seconds, he looked back at Bakugou, and the look in his eyes made Bakugou’s chest ache. Pain. So much pain there. And he couldn't take it away. "But you know something has to change, right? And nothing is going to change if no one speaks up."

He didn't reply. His breath was caught in his throat, and each drag of air into his lungs ached terribly. Kirishima took a step toward him, and this time, he didn't try to get away. He stayed pressed against the brick wall even as Kirishima stepped in front of him, caging him in. He turned his head away, unable to look at him without that heavy, sinking feeling that nearly made him sick.

"Did you know that a blog for LGBT youth wanted to interview me?" Kirishima asked. He waited. Bakugou didn't respond. "When Inoue was doing PR for both of us, he canceled the interview and told me not to talk to them again. He said that wasn't the image he was trying to cultivate for me."

Bakugou still couldn't bring himself to respond. Each second that ticked by made his chest feel tighter and tighter.

"The image he was trying to cultivate was big dumb jock who lived in the gym and preached alpha male mentality and didn't have a single thought in his head. He said more women would like me, more men would want to be like me. He tried to decide what manliness was and took away everything that I had ever believed in because he thought it would make me more popular."

Bakugou sucked in a breath, shuddering as Kirishima leaned into him, his lips lingering dangerously close to his face. If he turned his head just a little more, he could kiss him. "That's fucking stupid."

"Exactly. No one gets to decide who they are anymore. Hell, All Might could have been a totally different hero if he had any sort of say in his public image! But no." He shook his head and sighed, his breath raising goosebumps along Bakugou’s skin. "They wanted to preserve you, Katsuki. And I was holding you back. So they broke me until I decided to let go."

Bakugou squeezed his eyes shut, trying as hard as he could not to let the tears fall, but one escaped anyway. Kirishima brushed his thumb over Bakugou’s cheek to wipe it away, then turned his head and pressed a kiss to Bakugou's lips. It was gentle, far too gentle, and Bakugou couldn't bear the emotion behind it all, the pain and the suffering and the distance and the time. He had been robbed of two years of his life that he could never get back.

Someone had to pay for it.

“You didn’t have to let go,” Bakugou whispered. “You could have held on just a little longer –”

“I tried. Everyone has their breaking point.”

Bakugou lifted his head, his red eyes meeting Kirishima’s with such intensity that it nearly knocked the breath out of him. He had never felt such a surge of emotion as what washed over him in that moment. “What was yours?”

Kirishima smiled, but it was one of those sad, sort of longing smiles that held a lot of heartbreak. “They put me through a lot. There were things I still can’t make myself think about, things that I have nightmares about constantly.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, guarding himself, trapping all of those unwanted emotions inside of him so that they wouldn’t come spilling out. “Tch. Words are just words, Eijirou. You’re supposed to have thick skin. Why the hell did you let them get to you like that?”

“It wasn’t just words. They did things. They promised to help my mom and then they hurt her. But then they started threatening you, Katsuki, and I can’t…” He sucked in a breath, and Bakugou’s gaze was drawn to the scar on his face, slashing across his lip like they were trying to silence him. He knew there were other scars on Kirishima’s body, ones that he did not know the story behind, but they hadn’t been there before he left. He knew every inch of him, every last freckle, every curve and sharp line, the parts that Kirishima was insecure about, the places he loved and hated being touched. If they did something to him, he would have noticed.

“There was a day,” Kirishima started with a heavy sigh, stepping away from Bakugou as he shrunk into himself, “when I woke up in the apartment without you feeling really disoriented. I couldn’t remember anything from the moment after I left my therapist’s office the day before. I freaked out, and I thought maybe I had been fighting a villain and got hit by some sort of weird Quirk, but it didn’t explain why I was back safe in the apartment.”

Bakugou had a vague memory of this. Kirishima had struggled quite a bit with trying to figure it out, but Bakugou had brushed it off and told him he probably just got too high when he was hanging out with Kaminari the previous night. And Kirishima had listened to him, put his full trust in him, agreed that that was probably what happened, but now…

“What are you saying? You think they drugged you?”

Kirishima shrugged. “I don’t know. They drugged my mom.”

Bakugou snorted, rolling his eyes, but his heart was pounding. Panic seized him heavily and clenched around his heart like a padlock. He was starting to feel a little dizzy, like maybe he had been drugged himself. He licked his dry lips, swallowed against his parched throat, and let out a soft sigh. “What do you mean they threatened me?”

“They didn’t do it directly. They just told me that accidents happened, and there could come a day when I would be waking up in bed alone.”

Bakugou wrinkled his nose. His first instinct was to brush it off, just as he had always done, and then make empty threats himself, like how he could have kicked all of their asses before any of them knew what hit them. But the fear of death, especially at the hands of people who were supposed to be taking care of him, made his stomach turn cartwheels until he was sure that he might vomit. Of course he had known his life would very likely be cut short if he became a pro hero. But not like this. Not with the Commission breathing down their necks and turning them into perfect little dolls to show off and make the public adore.

“All because they didn’t want us together? That’s fucking crazy.”

Kirishima shrugged again. He looked small, almost childlike. Terrified in a way that Bakugou had never seen before. He had faced down literal monsters and never once wavered in the middle of battle. But now, he looked hopeless, broken, a civilian in the middle of a disaster that needed rescuing but could not be reached. “We weren’t following the script. People have done a lot more for a lot less. I walked away because I wanted to protect you, and if I ever saw you again, I wanted to do everything I could to keep you away. But you just kept coming back, and I –” His voice broke, and now there was a tear rolling down his face, stopping at the curve of his mouth right on top of his fancy new scar. “I wanted to take down the Commission, yeah, but I couldn’t stay away from you anymore. Please don’t listen to anyone trying to tell you anything other than how important you are to me and how much I care about you –”

Bakugou closed the distance between them, wrapping his hand around Kirishima’s head to drag him down for a kiss. At first, Kirishima was startled, hesitant, but slowly, he warmed up, falling into Bakugou and putting all of his trust in him just like he had a thousand times in the past.

A thousand times that Bakugou overlooked what was happening, minimized the amount of trauma he was going through, turned the other way instead of looking deeper and helping. All because he wanted to be a pro hero. All because he didn't want to screw everything up.

He pulled away after only a few seconds, resting his head against Kirishima’s shoulder as he wrapped his arms around his waist, drawing him close to hear his heartbeat. It was beating out a steady, comforting rhythm, and Bakugou felt for just a second like the world had stopped spinning, that he could think, that he could see.

"I know," he said. "I know how important I am to you. I knew it before you ever had the courage to say it, even though I wasn't sure why or what to do about it. And you…" He stopped himself, felt the shudder of breath in his chest, and closed his eyes. He didn't know how to say things. Not without sounding weak and vulnerable. It was terrifying. Saying I love you was easy enough; expressing how deeply was a completely different story.

"It's okay," Kirishima said, one hand smoothing Bakugou’s hair as he held him close, swaying slowly. "You don't have to say anything. I know you're not good at this stuff."

"I wanna be," Bakugou murmured as he pressed a kiss to Kirishima’s lips. His voice sounded too soft, foreign to his own ears as he sunk deeper into Kirishima, letting him control the pace, the pressure. Putting his full trust in Kirishima's hands now, and he sounded so weak, his voice breaking as he said, "I wanna be good for you."

Kirishima’s hand cupped his cheek, his thumb rubbing underneath his eye where he was sure there were tears spilling over. He was so fucking tired of crying, so fucking tired of being laid bare like this, and yet he knew Kirishima didn't see him as weak.

"You are so good for me, Katsuki. What are you talking about?" He kissed his cheek, all the way down his jawline, his lips, his neck, his lips again, deeper and more passionate than he had been all night.

Bakugou backed up against the wall, his feet guiding him where he needed to be as Kirishima’s hands settled on his hips, pushing him lightly against the brick, his weight bearing down on him and making it hard to breathe but god he didn't care about air right now, he just wanted Kirishima. His fingers tangled in dark strands of hair, pulling him impossibly closer, one leg coming up to curl around Kirishima’s waist. Fuck there was so much damn support gear in the way, and he wanted to be naked, he wanted to be touched, every last inch of him covered in kisses and sweet, gentle touches. He wanted to worship and be worshiped, held high like a god in his weak temple of flesh and bone.

Kirishima pressed his face into Bakugou’s neck, his lips traveling over feverish skin, teeth scraping over bruises and bone. Bakugou whined, his hips bucking up to meet Kirishima’s as his free hand fell to the zipper of Kirishima’s jeans. There were breathless, incoherent sounds falling from his mouth, pleading and desperation, neediness and despair. His fingers slipped past the waistband of Kirishima’s underwear, finding their way to a semi-erection that made Kirishima make a low, moaning sound as he touched him.

Kirishima pulled away, leaving Bakugou feeling cold and empty and confused, and he had never felt so small or so needy in his life. Kirishima didn't want him, a voice in his head chided, he didn't want –

"We can't do this here," Kirishima said, swiping a hand over his wet, kiss-swollen lips.

Bakugou knew how panicked he had been before, how bad of an idea he thought it might be for this to happen so soon, but something clicked inside of him, and suddenly the fear wasn't there anymore. It was replaced by a warm need for comfort, a return to life as he knew it, or as close as it could possibly get.

"Come upstairs with me," he said.

Kirishima frowned, obviously uncomfortable as his gaze traveled everywhere except to Bakugou’s face. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea –"

"You get in and out of buildings all the time without anyone seeing you. You can find your way back to the apartment."

"Are you sure –"

"Yes." He grabbed the collar of Kirishima’s shirt and jerked him close, placing a brief kiss to his mouth before pushing him away. "I'll see you soon."

Kirishima offered him a soft, sad smile, but he didn't wait around to see if he had anything else to say. If he did, he was sure the panic would take over again.

Kirishima would be back in the apartment. Things would be normal again. They had to be.

Chapter Text

Half an hour later, he found himself pacing the floor of the living room while Mango sat high on her throne at the kitchen counter, judging him and offering no sort of comfort. His thoughts kept fluctuating wildly between I made a mistake and I want Kirishima so fucking bad I can't make myself care about anything else right now.

He stopped pacing long enough to check his phone for the time, then let out a deep sigh. What the hell was taking so long?

There were text messages waiting for replies, some from Inoue, some from Kaminari and Ashido, a couple from Deku and Uraraka. He'd declined several phone calls from Mitsuki that had come in throughout the day and ignored the voicemails she left for him, not caring to hear a half-assed apology. She was just like him in that sense; apologies were never easy, and most of the time they didn't quite mean them.

Mango mewed, and he looked up at her wide, green eyes settled on him, like she could see right into his thoughts, see things he couldn't even see himself. He reached out and scratched her behind her ears. "Eijirou is coming back," he said. "He was always your favorite, you little asshole. I hope you're happy."

His entire body was shaking with nervous energy. The Commission-appointed psychiatrist had prescribed him some anxiety medication at their last session, but the last few times he took it, it just made him feel angrier and more on edge. Still, he might do anything to settle his racing heart and his whirlwind of thoughts right now.

For two years, he had lived with nothing but a guilty conscience and ghosts he could not rid the apartment of, no matter how hard he tried. He'd thrown out everything Kirishima left, scrubbed every inch of it until it was clean of him, and still he couldn't make it go away. Everywhere he looked there were memories of Kirishima that he could never erase, and now he would have to see him walk the floors of their apartment again, sit in the same places as he sat before, sleep in the same bed and wake up next to him.

Oh, god. He wasn't ready for this. What was he thinking?

His heart hammered, dull and distant, as he rushed to the door and threw it open, hoping to stop whatever was coming before it started.

The hallway was empty and silent. Instead, he heard a heavy thud from deep inside of his apartment. Outside, he thought. The balcony.

The balcony.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath as he rushed toward the sliding glass doors, tripping over his own feet in an effort to get there as fast as he could, before –

He pushed the door open and stepped out into the freezing night air to a sight he hoped that he would never see again. Kirishima, perched on the railing precariously and staring back at him, though this time he looked coherent, in control. Still, Bakugou’s breath caught in his throat as he watched Kirishima teeter back and forth on the railing before leaping off onto the balcony with a wide, playful grin on his face.

"I made it!" he exclaimed proudly, staggering into Bakugou’s arms and hugging him tightly to his chest.

The swell of panic rose high. The world went bleak and dark. Bakugou pushed him away before he could even think about what he was doing, only knowing that he was terrified of losing Kirishima, and he had never been more terrified about it than he was right now.

"You fucking idiot," he snarled. "Fuck you."

Kirishima’s eyes grew wide. "Okay, start over. What did I miss?"

"You're a fucking asshole. Why the fuck –" He drew in a breath, tried to steady his shaking voice. "You tried to jump off the balcony. Before. And I stopped you."

Kirishima’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion, and then a dawning realization lit up his eyes. "Oh, my god," he said, falling forward into Bakugou’s arms as he buried his face into his neck. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking –"

"Y-yeah. You're damn right you weren't thinking. I fucking –"

"Maybe this is a bad idea," Kirishima mumbled against his skin. "I don't want to overwhelm you. I fucked you over, and you have every right to keep me locked out. I want…" He pulled away slowly, taking Bakugou’s hands and holding them tightly. "I want you to feel safe. And happy."

I feel safe and happy when I’m with you. The words lingered right on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t make himself say them, because he wasn’t quite sure it was the truth right at that moment. At that moment, he felt…nothing and everything all at the same time, a tumultuous whirl of fear and sadness and anger and delight, and he couldn’t even begin to sort it out. It was just as his psychiatrist had told him over and over again in their sessions – his emotions were like a ball of yarn, tangled up and impossible to unravel.

He let out a slow breath, then turned his back on Kirishima, hesitating at the glass door. The sound of the cool winter wind blowing by drowned out the mess of thoughts racing through his head. He could feel Kirishima’s eyes on him, waiting for some sort of sign of what to do, but Bakugou wasn’t sure. He could see Mango sitting on the counter staring back at him, and an image of Kirishima sitting on the floor dangling a cat toy in front of her face flashed through his mind. Things had been simple back then. Normal. Or, he had thought they were.

“Do you want me to leave?” Kirishima asked. “I don’t have to be here. I completely understand –”

“Come inside.”

He was as startled by his words as Kirishima was. Desperation, he supposed, always overshadowed fear and uncertainty of what was to come. Taking a risk, trying to make things right…it was all he could do.

“Wow.”

“What?”

Kirishima stood in the middle of the apartment, turning in circles as he studied the place. He was tense, nervous; Bakugou could tell by the way he held himself. Not that he was feeling much better. He remained in the kitchen, keeping his distance, hoping that the discomfort and the awkwardness of the situation would dissipate soon. Those were the first words that they had spoken to one another for the five minutes they had been inside.

“Nothing,” Kirishima said. “It looks exactly how I remember it. I just imagined that you would have rearranged everything."

"I tried. I didn't like it."

Kirishima walked the length of the open living area, staring at the posters and paintings that they had picked out together, things that Bakugou couldn't quite make himself get rid of. There used to be pictures hanging there too, memories from U.A. and their first few months as heroes. There were none hanging there now, and Bakugou imagined as Kirishima lingered there, that he was trying to place where they had been and where they were at now. He imagined he was probably wounded, but he would never say so.

Bakugou had never gotten rid of any of the pictures. They were still shoved to the back of the closet, just out of sight and out of mind. He couldn't quite make himself give those up either.

The silence continued as Kirishima made his way through the apartment. Bakugou didn't go with him. He stayed in the kitchen petting Mango and trying to get his heart to calm down, because he felt like he was about to have a damn heart attack. He was sweating more than normal, and he felt hot. Each breath felt like he was drawing in dry desert air.

Seeing Kirishima here…he knew it would be a lot. That's why he had been so against it before. But he thought he was ready. He thought he wanted, more than anything, to have Kirishima back in his life and as close to being together again as they could possibly be right now. But seeing him walk the long hallway, studying the marks on the wall they had both left over their one year of living together…it dragged him back to the first day he woke up and found himself alone in the apartment. Panic seized him violently, made his entire world spin out of control. He remembered that sinking feeling, that cold, dreadful terror that gripped his heart as he read that note, the hopelessness as they searched for months on end for him. The rage and bitterness and hatred after he had accepted Kirishima was gone. It all came rushing back to him in one swift, heavy wave that made him feel like he was drowning. He tried to make himself breathe, but his chest felt tight, and he couldn't accept, couldn't admit to Kirishima that this was shaking him far worse than he had expected.

He abandoned Mango and rushed into the bathroom while Kirishima was distracted, slamming the door behind him and going straight for the medicine cabinet. He stared at the nearly empty bottles in front of him, trying to decide what he wanted right now. He went with the sleeping pills. There were only three left, which would have to do. He threw them in his mouth and dry swallowed them, feeling the tension immediately roll out of him. The effects were not that fast, but at least he could expect something that would make him feel just a little less like he was suffocating.

He sank down to the floor, his back pressed against the door as he forced himself to breathe. Kirishima standing in front of the mirror brushing his teeth, flicking cold water at Bakugou when he came into the room, leaving notes written in the steam on the mirror for when Bakugou got out of the shower. It was too much, all of it hitting him squarely in the chest and making his world turn upside down.

A knock sounded at the door, rattling against Bakugou’s already shaking body, followed by a very concerned meow.

"Bakugou? Is everything okay?" Kirishima asked.

He let out a breath. Kirishima singing in the shower, taking mirror selfies after working out, slamming Bakugou into the shower wall and fucking him until he could hardly hold himself up. Kissing him deeply, touching him gently, whispering I love you over and over again as if Bakugou deserved it. Not being able to say it now…

"Yes," he answered, his voice surprisingly stable. "I just forgot to take my meds."

He was met with silence for a long time, nothing to keep him grounded except for the thunderous banging of his aching heart. Then, "Can I come in?"

He swallowed, stood up, and opened the door. Kirishima stood there looking like a fucking saint holding Mango in his arms. The cat was nearly asleep, purring so loudly Bakugou was sure he could have heard it from the other side of the apartment.

"Mango seems to still like me," Kirishima said with an innocent shrug. "We always talked about getting her another cat to keep her company while we were gone."

"Yeah." Bakugou crossed his arms and stared at the floor. He didn't know what else to say. Not without losing his fucking mind and kicking Kirishima out. If he did, though, he would only want him back. He was walking a very thin, dangerous line, and if he fell off, he might just go insane.

Kirishima sighed and set Mango back down on the floor. She looked disgruntled, but still she wound herself around his leg, purring contentedly. "I don't want you to feel like I have to be here. I don't wanna upset you. If you tell me to get out, I'm more than happy to leave and give you the space that you need."

"That's the whole fucking problem," Bakugou said. "I don't want anymore fucking space. I want..." He paused, taking in another breath. One, two, three. Let it out. "I want you to be here with me. I can't fucking take the distance anymore. I'm sick of not knowing where you're at and what's going on. I just want…"

Kirishima stepped closer to him. He looked up at him, holding his gaze for several long, silent seconds, trying to read his expression, trying to find the words to describe how he was feeling and coming up short. Things were not the same. He wasn't sure if they would ever be the same again.

"Katsuki," Kirishima said, and his voice was so soft, so reassuring, a beacon in the middle of a dark and foreboding storm. Bakugou grabbed him and pulled him close, slamming his lips into his with such force Kirishima nearly lost his footing.

It was awkward at first, as if Kirishima didn't want to kiss him back, as if he wanted to pull away, to keep talking, to spill things that they had been keeping from each other all along, but Bakugou didn't want to talk. He couldn't. There were no words that would make his thoughts the least bit coherent, and eventually, thankfully, Kirishima fell into rhythm with him, forgetting the conversation altogether.

"I love you," Bakugou said, his words whispered against Kirishima’s lips as he kissed him deeper, harder, pulling him so close that air could barely make it into his lungs. He wanted to hear him say it back, wanted to feel the warm, fuzzy feeling that had spread throughout his body the first time Kirishima had said it and every time after, but there was no response other than his name, a slight breath against his mouth as Kirishima kissed him, a sound of reverence that was just enough for that fluttery feeling in his chest, knowing that Kirishima did love him in a way that no one else ever could, even if he couldn't say it.

He took a step back, not daring to break away from Kirishima as he moved, subconsciously, toward the bathroom sink. When he felt the back of his legs bump into the porcelain counter, he jumped up to seat himself there. Kirishima was in perfect sync with him, never pulling away, never asking what to do. His hands came up to the back of Bakugou’s thighs, angling his legs so that he could wrap them around Kirishima’s waist and drag him closer, closer until he was almost on top of him.

There was nothing but the sound of their breath melding together in a synchronized harmony of heavy, needy pants and raspy moans, the scent of Kirishima overwhelming him and making his mind go blank as lips and tongue and teeth clashed violently together. He felt his head hit the mirror as Kirishima pushed his hips down against the countertop, pinning him down underneath the weight of his slow, teasing thrusts. Bakugou let out a pathetic moan as Kirishima’s fingers fell over his half-hard cock, gliding gently over him through his very thin pajama pants. He bucked up into the touch, but Kirishima only shoved him down harder, making him go halfway insane with desire. He loved when Kirishima was rough with him. It made him feel like he was in the middle of a fight, and he was always ready to fuck after a fight.

"Shit," he hissed, fingers tangling in Kirishima’s hair as he dragged him down for another kiss, but Kirishima turned his head, placing rough, open-mouthed kisses over Bakugou’s cheek and down his neck, coming very close to Bakugou’s mouth and making him chase but never giving him the reward. His breath was warm on Bakugou’s skin, steaming up the mirror behind his head. Bakugou groaned, tightening his legs around Kirishima’s waist and holding him there so he could feel the glide of their cocks together through their pants, the bump of his body against the mirror as Kirishima continued to grind against him. His fingers tangled in Kirishima's hair, clawed down his back, and he turned his head just a little so he could see the reflection in the mirror…

Shit. He couldn't see much from the angle he was at, but it was enough to almost make him come in his pants. God, Kirishima was hot, and watching him pound into him in the mirror, his big, strong hands holding him down while he tore him to pieces would absolutely destroy him. He would lose his fucking mind.

Kirishima’s head was nestled into the crook of his neck, his lips and teeth completely shredding the soft skin over his collarbone, his hands sliding up Bakugou’s shirt and settling just over his belly. Bakugou threw his head back with a frustrated sigh, then pushed Kirishima away so he could strip himself of his shirt and pants. Too many layers, not enough skin.

"Is everything okay?" Kirishima asked, placing his hands gently on Bakugou’s thighs as he kissed him lightly on the tip of the nose. Always able to switch himself off, always wanting to check on Bakugou. Always, always his number one concern was pleasing Bakugou.

"Perfect," Bakugou growled, grabbing his hair and pulling him back down to smash their lips together in yet another bruising kiss. He opened his mouth, let Kirishima inside as his fingers fell back to Bakugou’s wet cock. He could feel himself leaking through his underwear, begging to touch and be touched, and Kirishima teased, he edged, he made Bakugou feel good but he made him beg for it first.

"I love watching you fuck me," he whispered as Kirishima dragged his tongue over Bakugou’s bottom lip, then sank his teeth into it. He cried out from the sharp pain, his hips thrusting up yet again in response, searching for some sort of friction.

Kirishima didn't answer at first, taking his time leaving soft, sweet kisses over Bakugou's flaming hot, sweaty skin. Then he kissed underneath his ear, letting his lips linger there for a long, agonizing moment before he whispered back, "Why don't you turn around then so you can get a good show?"

It felt like he had sucked the air right out of Bakugou’s lungs. His eyes widened as he stared into Kirishima’s eyes, pupils dark and hazy with lust, and he found himself nodding as he crawled down from the bathroom sink on shaky legs. “Shit. Yeah, okay.” Kirishima pulled him flush against him, chest to chest, as his lips met Bakugou’s briefly, then he pulled away and stripped off his shirt.

It was hard not to stare at Kirishima. At U.A. they had been roughly the same size, but Kirishima had hit a growth spurt their last year, and now he had at least a few inches on Bakugou. Not to mention that he had filled out quite a bit. Everything was lean and muscular and thick, and he couldn’t stop himself as he reached out and touched his hard abdomen, lingering there for a long time before tracing a line up his ribs and settling on his chest.

And Kirishima was staring at him too. Staring at him like he had never seen him naked before, like this was the first time all over again, like everything was just happening for the first time. It took his breath away. He had never seen anyone look at another person like that.

It took every bit of his strength to speak again. “A-are we just gonna stand here all night, or are you gonna –”

“You’re so beautiful, Katsuki.” His hand rested on Bakugou’s cheek, tilting his head up to meet his lips once again, soft, brief, barely there, but it said all that he needed to hear. There were only a few inches between them, but it felt like miles and miles and miles, and no matter how close they got, he would always want to be closer.

He swallowed hard, his whole body vibrating with adrenaline as he palmed at his erect cock, straining to break free from his underwear and be touched. The pills would take effect soon, he knew. He could feel it starting to course through his veins, the fatigue fighting against the need for Kirishima’s body, the anxiety battling with the immense affection he felt for the man in front of him. He should have hated him; it was so easy to hate people. But God, he could never hate Kirishima.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Yeah, I guess. But you know what would be even more beautiful? You bending me over and fucking me on the bathroom sink while I watch.” He met Kirishima’s gaze in a challenge, a demand, and Kirishima didn’t even break eye contact as his fingers curled around Bakugou’s wrist and he spun him around, forcing him against the porcelain countertop so that he was looking squarely at his reflection in the mirror.

God, he looked fucked out already. His cheeks were flushed, his hair standing up in all directions, his pupils blown so wide he couldn’t even see the red of his irises anymore. He was breathing hard, each exhale leaving a thin layer of steam over the mirror. And yeah, it was just as hot as he expected it to be, seeing Kirishima towering above him, his hands pressing into Bakugou’s hips as he unzipped his pants and ground his wet dick against the cleft of Bakugou’s ass.

Kirishima leaned over Bakugou, his chest pressed against his back, and Bakugou let out a little whine as his teeth clamped down over his ear, pulling lightly. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes, god, please –”

“Please what, sweetheart?” His hands traveled from Bakugou’s hips down to his ass, one finger hooking the waistband of his underwear to pull them down. Bakugou could only respond by grinding himself back against Kirishima’s cock, his fingers curling against the countertop as he panted, desperate for any sort of touch he could get. “Use words, Katsuki.”

There were no words to describe how he was feeling; all of it was just a jumbled mess. He reached with one sweaty, shaky hand to take Kirishima’s, and slowly, their fingers intertwined as he pressed them against the mirror, leaving smudged fingerprints he would have to worry about later. He could feel Kirishima’s breath against his neck as he stared at the reflection before him, how helpless and small he looked, and how fucking needy. He needed this. God, he needed Kirishima now more than ever. Everything was falling apart, and it was his fault, it was all Kirishima’s –

“Fuck me. Please.”

Kirishima pushed sweaty blonde hair out of the way and pressed a kiss to the back of Bakugou’s neck, raising goosebumps along his skin. Slowly, his hand traveled down Bakugou’s side back to his underwear, pulling them down violently as he slammed up against him. Bakugou groaned, ducking his head away from the mirror for fear of seeing just how fucking desperate he was. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe…

He heard the medicine cabinet open as Kirishima searched for lube, his thigh pressing in between Bakugou’s legs to spread them farther apart. And then he heard the clatter of the empty pill bottle smacking to the counter and then the floor. He tensed, waited, as Kirishima bent to grab it, praying to any god that was listening that he would just ignore it and go about his business. Why the fuck had he put the empty bottle back to begin with?

"What's this?" Kirishima asked, staring at the label as Bakugou watched him in the mirror.

He licked his lips, swallowed, the blood rushing in his ears so loudly he couldn't even hear himself speak. "My meds."

Kirishima used to be inattentive to detail, especially in writing; that's why he had always needed Bakugou’s help with written exams at school. But suddenly he was interested in paying attention, and now he was frowning, brow furrowed, the corner of his mouth twitching as his eyes scanned over the label.

"Bakugou, what the hell? You got this a week ago." His eyes flicked up to meet Bakugou’s in the mirror. "Thirty pills and you're already out? It says to take one every day."

He didn't move, his chest pressed against the counter, his legs still spread. But the mood was gone. He wasn't sure how to recover from this. "It's to help with my anxiety," he said, which he never would have admitted he had a problem with before, but getting Kirishima to feel sorry for him, maybe that would end the conversation right there. He was so sick of talking about their problems and all the twisted, messed up shit going on everywhere around them. So what if he took a few extra pills? Didn't he deserve to just let go every once in a while?

"Yeah, but you're supposed to take one every day. How many did you take before I came in here?"

He scowled, pushing away from the counter and rounding on Kirishima now. "I don't think that's any of your fucking business."

"I think it is my fucking business if you're abusing medicine –"

"Oh, as if you have any fucking right to lecture me about anything –"

"Don't fucking yell at me when I'm just asking you a question! How many did you take tonight?"

He crossed his arms, suddenly feeling very self-conscious and very small. He was naked, laid bare, and Kirishima was glaring at him like he hated him, all of the love and adoration he had seen earlier completely dissolved. "Three," he replied. "But my psychiatrist told me if I needed to up the dosage then I could."

Kirishima rolled his eyes, tossing the empty bottle into the trash. "They don't want you smoking weed, but they'll drug you with sleeping pills until you don't even know what's going on around you anymore."

They were silent for several long seconds that seemed to drag on forever. Bakugou knew they were both thinking about Kirishima’s mom Tess, how she had come back from her doctor's appointments in a daze, taking hours to finally wake up enough to communicate and interact with the world. They had said it was just a side effect, that it would get better once her body got used to it, it was all for making her get well again. But it never got better. Not until the doctor's office burned down.

The question was, why Tess? Why Bakugou? Why anyone? Why make anyone's life a living hell when they had given themselves over to making the world a better place?

A small price to pay to be on top. He remembered someone saying that to him when he'd first opened his agency with Kirishima, but now he didn't know who said it or what they were even referring to.

"I know what's going on," Bakugou finally said. "They don't have control over me."

"That's what they want you to think."

"So what do you want me to do then? Panic about every single fucking thing that comes along? Live in a constant nightmare not knowing where the hell you are or what you're doing, if any of our friends are being treated the same way as you were and being silenced? Worrying that I'm next? What the hell do you want from me?"

Kirishima pressed him up against the wall and kissed him, long and sweet and so startling that it knocked the breath out of him, and every single bad thought in his head flew right out. He couldn't remember what they were fighting about, couldn't remember that he had taken too many pills, only knew that Kirishima was kissing him, and their bodies were pressed together, skin on skin, warm and reassuring and alive. He kissed him hard, lips aching and swollen and wet as he curled his arms around Kirishima’s neck, begging, pleading to be closer, closer until they were indistinguishable from one another. He felt Kirishima’s hands drift down his back, over his ass, settling at the back of his thighs, and he leaped into his arms, clinging tighter than he had before.

Kirishima stumbled, broke the kiss, and Bakugou could have screamed as he chased after his mouth, lips only brushing briefly as Kirishima turned his head away. "Don't you think we should talk? About everything?" Kirishima asked.

Bakugou shook his head, slamming his lips into Kirishima’s again. He could feel his brain growing fuzzy, his eyes wanting to close, his body wanting to shut down for the night, but he fought against it. If he slept, he would wake up and Kirishima would be gone, and this would all be some dream, and they would still be fighting because he didn't even feel like they could have a civil conversation anymore. He needed this. He needed to feel close to him again, in any way possible.

Kirishima let out a soft moan against his lips, pulling away only an inch to take a breath before diving back in. Even a second away felt too long. He held Bakugou steady against the wall, grinding against him but not doing anything besides peppering wet, feverish kisses over his face and neck. His fingers pressed teasingly at Bakugou’s rim, barely scraping the surface as he ground his hips down to chase his warm touch, desperately wanting to be filled.

"Let's run away together," Kirishima whispered against his neck. "We could just go to Otheon and buy a farm and get a dog and more cats for Mango, and we could disappear. We wouldn't have to worry about anything again."

Bakugou groaned as teeth sank into his skin, his fingers tangling in Kirishima’s hair. He rested his head against the wall, eyes closed, breathing heavily as he tried to grasp on to one single coherent thought flooding his brain.

It didn't sound like a bad idea. Fuck, if this was what hero work was, maybe he didn't want it.

“Bedroom,” he gasped out, without giving a proper response. And Kirishima obliged.

The path from the bathroom to the bedroom was a long, agonizing one, but there was not much room to complain as Kirishima kissed him, barely taking enough time to take a breath as he stumbled blindly through the apartment that used to belong to him. Bakugou’s body became extremely acquainted with all of the furniture in the way as Kirishima pushed him against any and every surface he could find in his love-drunk stupor to let his lips and hands roam over his skin, unable to contain himself long enough to make it to the bedroom. His back slammed into a lamp, toppling it to the ground with a crash that resonated in the quiet apartment as his hands scrambled for leverage against Kirishima’s desperate touches. Like he wanted to touch him everywhere all at once and he couldn’t, and the frustrated growls that fell from his lips left Bakugou in a state of euphoria he was not quite sure he had ever felt before.

Paintings fell, chairs toppled over, the sound of shattering glass rose and fell every few seconds as Kirishima took up every single space in the place, lips and teeth tracing patterns over Bakugou’s skin as he ground against him, pulling quiet moans from his lips with each thrust. They weren't going to make it anywhere, and Bakugou was already right on the edge, that hot coil of live wire heating up exponentially inside of him, pressure building and building until he was almost sure he would explode.

He curled an arm around Kirishima’s neck, digging nails into his shoulder to ground himself as Kirishima spread him out on the coffee table and left fleeting little kisses over his heaving chest. Bakugou tightened his legs around Kirishima’s waist, dragging him closer as his mouth descended down his body, digging his heels into his spine to spur him on.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, everything was spinning and the room was tilting back and forth like they were on a ship and the waves were knocking them around. He had to fight against the cold fog clouding his brain, battling against the adrenaline and the heat bursting through his veins. Everything was moving too slow and too fast all at once, and as he blinked up at Kirishima, he blurred in his vision to two, then four people, and very suddenly he felt like he was going to pass out.

His back arched off the table as he gripped Kirishima’s hair, pushing him further down his body to where his cock lay red and flushed against his stomach. His legs curled on either side of Kirishima’s head. White sparks exploded in his vision. He needed to focus on something, anything –

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, as Kirishima took the head of his dick between his lips. He knew he was leaking everywhere, felt it dripping down from Kirishima’s mouth onto his thighs, and he groaned, unable to catch a breath as he met Kirishima’s sweet, tender gaze.

He let go of him with a ridiculously obscene noise and kissed the inside of his thigh. "Our imaginary farm," Kirishima replied. "How cute you would look in overalls."

"Fuck you," Bakugou hissed, and Kirishima laughed, a genuine sound that was so beautiful Bakugou could hardly believe they were fighting just a few moments before.

"We could have chickens and cows and goats and ducks–"

"And I'm sure you would want to grow corn or some shit."

"Yeah, whatever food we need to live. We wouldn't have to see anyone ever again."

Bakugou met his gaze, then rolled his eyes with a frustrated sigh. Kirishima wouldn't be able to handle not seeing anyone else ever again.

"Are you gonna fuck me here or are we going to the bed?"

Kirishima frowned, scooping him up into his arms as he drifted toward the bedroom, just as clumsy and staggering as before, though there was a little less passion, less fire. Like he was holding something back.

He tossed Bakugou onto the bed as if he weighed nothing, then crawled on top of him, stripping off the rest of his clothes and throwing them carelessly across the room. He pressed Bakugou into the pillows, barely breaking their lips apart long enough to open the nightstand and search around for lube.

"You know I can't run away, right?" Bakugou asked, as Kirishima pushed both of his legs up to his chest and pressed a single finger to his hole. "I don't run away from things."

"I know," Kirishima replied. He pushed his finger in, and Bakugou let out a tiny gasp, thrusting himself down onto the single digit curling and rubbing deep inside of him. Kirishima didn't even look like he wanted to be there anymore. "I was just joking. Obviously you're a pro hero. There isn't anything else out there you'd be nearly as good at. You've gotta be better than Deku, right?"

There was something condescending in his tone, something that made Bakugou tense and clench around him as he glared, trying to work out what exactly had changed between them. There was a second finger inside him, and then a third before he decided to speak again.

"I started taking them because I couldn't sleep at night. And I swear I stopped for a long time, but then I saw you again, and something just snapped. It's not that bad though. I know what I'm doing, I'm not a fucking child."

Kirishima glanced up at him, as if he was only half listening to what Bakugou said, barely even interested. He pulled his fingers out of him and used his knee to nudge Bakugou’s leg aside as he positioned himself and slid inside of him with no resistance at all. Bakugou was growing tired, his limbs heavy, but he wouldn't dare admit it. He wouldn't let Kirishima worry; he wouldn't let him be right.

"I believe you," Kirishima said, "but I can't let you slip away from me. Not again. I've lost you too many times."

"But it's fine if you slip away, I guess," Bakugou growled. "If you jump off a fucking building or if you just leave me for two fucking years–"

"God. There isn't a single fucking thing I can do –"

"You can show me why you left and what was so bad that you couldn't endure it for me."

Kirishima paused, hand splayed out over Bakugou’s stomach and pinning him to the bed, his eyes narrowing with rage. "You know damn well what the problem was, and you need to stop fucking pretending you don't! You want your pro hero fantasy to be real so bad, you won't even look at everything going on around you and fucking realize –"

"Shut your fucking mouth." Bakugou pushed him off, and he collapsed to the foot of the bed with a low, steady heat brewing in his gaze. They would never harm each other, not unless it was consensual, but damn it if Bakugou didn't want to kill him right now. "Don't talk to me about fantasies when you're so damn delusional you don't even know what direction you're going in. What the hell have you figured out? Nothing. You're not any closer to the truth than you were two years ago –"

"They're planning a tragic accident for Uraraka and faking a miscarriage. They think it'll win them sympathy points, and it'll be on the news and gossip sites long enough for them to hide what they're really doing. They're covering their asses for the Wonderland incident because now everyone is suspicious of them, and they're using their shiny toy heroes to protect themselves. You're a shield, Katsuki. A distraction. Yeah, maybe they want your Quirk, but more than anything they want your undivided loyalty so that they can hide in the shadows and do whatever the hell they want."

They sat there in silence for a long moment glaring at one another, but neither of them wanted to speak next. Something cold settled in Bakugou’s chest, like a cool rush of water flooding inside of him and making it hard to breathe. Of course they would have planned a fake miscarriage. Of course. Because what else could they do if a baby wasn't there in nine months?

It was sick. Every last bit of it.

He felt like he was spinning. The room was hazy, the walls around him moving like he was underwater. And Kirishima was sitting there watching, waiting, probably expecting him to crash.

He wouldn't dare. Because he was fine.

"They don't have my loyalty," he finally said. "I don't belong to anyone."

"Then come with me," Kirishima whispered, drawing Bakugou close to him again as he kissed him. "We can fight this together. We can save everyone."

Bakugou closed his eyes, held Kirishima’s hand tightly to his chest as images flashed through his mind – Todoroki jerking his arm away from him, Yaomomo looking frightened to speak, Uraraka smiling sadly at him as he asked about her pregnancy, a drunken Kaminari stumbling around and trying to feel something when his entire life was being taken away.

He let out a breath, squeezed Kirishima tighter. Opened his eyes, found Kirishima staring at him, looking so much older and so much wiser than he had ever looked before.

"You think they need saving?" he asked.

Kirishima nodded. "I do. They won't ask for help, but they need it."

"Todoroki?"

"Yes."

"Uraraka?"

"Yeah."

He swallowed hard, then nodded. "Fine. What else am I supposed to do? A hero is supposed to save people, right? So tell me what you need from me."

Kirishima let out a breath of relief, as if he wasn't sure Bakugou would comply so easily. "Medical files," he started to list on his fingers, "information about Wonderland and any of the people that were confirmed to be there, Taiyo's file, keeping everyone else away from me, lying and pretending you don't know a damn thing. Being the best damn hero they've ever seen."

Bakugou smirked. "Already done. I'll see what I can do about the files. Taiyo?"

"Is alive somewhere," Kirishima replied. "I don't know what they're doing with him. Other kids have gone missing from the foster care system too. We just need to connect the dots and trace it back to the source."

"Which you think is the Commission?"

Kirishima seemed reluctant to answer, but he nodded anyway. "I think it's bigger than the Commission. They're just the front for what's really hiding in the shadows."

A chill raced up Bakugou’s spine, and he shuddered against the implication that there were other more terrifying things controlling the Commission, who were controlling the heroes. If that was true, then the entire basis of hero society and saving the world had been a lie from the beginning.

"It was never about saving people," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "It was about having control." He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "How pathetic. No one has any control over me. I do whatever the fuck I want, and there isn't a damn thing they can do to stop me."

Even as he said it, he knew it wasn't true. There was always a way, a breaking point. And he was sure they knew how to break him. It was only a matter of time.

Chapter Text

Kirishima tossed and turned a lot in his sleep. Even under the influence of sleeping pills, it made it difficult for Bakugou to fall into slumber as well. He lay there staring at the wall and the shining green eyes of his cat gazing back at him as Kirishima held him close, twitching and kicking every few seconds and muttering low, incoherent sounds under his breath. He wondered if he was having nightmares, if there were still things he was replaying in his mind that he hadn’t shared with Bakugou.

He must have drifted off at some point because when he woke to the sound of his alarm, he was alone in his bed, once again unsure where Kirishima went or what he was doing. He groaned, reaching for his screaming phone and knocking it off the nightstand into the floor, then groaned louder. His head ached, and he realized very suddenly as he stumbled out of bed that there was a thick scent of smoke in the air he hadn’t noticed before. His hand closed around his phone as his bleary gaze met the bedroom door, and he saw that there was a large hole blown into the wood that somehow still smelled completely fried.

“Shit,” he grumbled, shutting off his alarm and rubbing at his sleepy eyes. He knew they’d fucked last night, but he hadn’t imagined it had been so…violent. He took a wobbly step forward again and noticed that the sheets were a damn mess too. Not only were there questionable stains just about everywhere, but he had blown holes into the fabric, and it had been pretty much ripped to shreds as well – by Kirishima’s teeth or his hardened skin, he couldn’t be sure. And if the bedroom was in this condition, then what did the rest of the apartment look like?

He walked into the living room to see that the couch had been overturned, and pretty much every single painting and poster that had been on the walls had crashed to the floor. Glass spread across the hardwood where a lamp had smashed, and the light still on in the kitchen was flickering weakly over the remnants of glasses and plates. The bathroom door was off its hinges, and his All Might statues and figurines were scattered haphazardly in all directions, some missing limbs, while another one repeated a weak, staticky, “I am here!” on a loop.

As he stepped over broken glass and tried to pick up some of the things that had been knocked down, a loud, urgent knock rang out through the empty apartment, and he cringed at the pins and needles it sent flying through his skull.

“Fuck,” he hissed in the two seconds of silence that followed the first round of knocks, before a second round began, followed by a very angry, “Katsuki! Open this fucking door right now!”

He felt the blood drain right out of him, leaving him cold and frozen in place as his mother’s voice resonated in his mind. He looked down at his phone, declaring to him that it was seven in the morning and he had several missed calls as well as unanswered texts, emails, and voicemails. A gossip site notification informed him of an interview Yaoyorozu had done with a bridal magazine, with video included.

“Katsuki!” Mitsuki yelled on the other side of the door, her knocks growing louder and more frantic. “I know you’re in there; your shift doesn’t start for another two hours!”

“Damn it, woman! Will you give me a minute? I just fucking woke up.” He ran a hand over his face, trying to shake the sleep from his system as he stumbled through the messy apartment. He could feel the night’s wear and tear on his body now, from his aching muscles to the bruises on his hips and thighs. Not to mention that he was completely naked and had absolutely no idea where he had discarded his clothes from the night before. He couldn’t let Mitsuki into the apartment while it was in this state. She would have plenty to say about it, and he didn’t want to hear any of it. He didn’t even want to see her right now.

He made his way to the bathroom, where he found his pajama pants but no underwear or shirt, which was just fine. The sooner he could get her out of here, the better. The empty pill bottle lay on its side on the bathroom tile, and he picked it up and tossed it into the trash. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Katsuki!”

“For fuck’s sake.” He stomped to the front door and threw it open violently, revealing Mitsuki standing in the hallway with a scowl on her face and her fist raised as she started to knock again. She had come alone and carried a cup of coffee in her left hand that he assumed was supposed to be for him as an apology, but he had no intention of forgiving today. He was very good at holding grudges.

“What the fuck do you want?” he growled.

She didn’t answer immediately, her eyes widening just slightly as she took him in, her gaze traveling down his body before snapping back up to his face. “The hell happened to you?”

He swallowed hard, making sure to hold eye contact with her. He wasn’t entirely sure of what his body looked like, but judging by the look on her face, it must not have been good. “Not sure what you’re talking about.”

“All the bruises and the –”

“I’m a pro hero, in case you forgot. Shit happens.”

Her eyes narrowed as her gaze fell again. “Katsuki, that’s a fucking hickey. They’re all over you, stupid, so don’t try to lie to me.” She shoved past him into the apartment before he could even think to try to keep her out, and he heard a small gasp fall from her lips. “What the hell happened in here?”

“I was robbed.”

She turned to face him, raising an eyebrow and shaking her head disapprovingly. He couldn’t imagine how she had the audacity to show up here and judge him after what had happened at dinner.

“Right, and I guess you fucked the robber too?”

He scowled at her as she slammed the coffee onto the kitchen counter and spun around the room, hands on her hips and a frown on her face that made her look like the old, decrepit witch that she was.

“Do you ever think before shit comes out of your mouth?” he asked. “Or do you just not care –”

“You’ve been ignoring my phone calls.”

He pursed his lips, his hands clenching into fists as a very dense, heavy silence swelled between them. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. God, it gave him the creeps. He could never see how much of Mitsuki lived in him until he got older. He was basically staring himself down.

“Yeah, why would I answer you when you told me it was my fault my boyfriend joined a group of villains?”

Both her eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Your boyfriend?”

Shit. “Ex boyfriend.”

Mitsuki sighed and took a seat at the kitchen counter, gesturing for Bakugou to sit next to her. He stayed standing where he was at. “I don’t have any excuses, Katsuki,” she said slowly, sounding almost…hurt. “I’m a bad mom. I’m not gonna lie to you, I didn’t even want kids. I thought things would change when you were born, but I still didn’t feel like I could be a mom. Your dad fell right into his role and treated you like you were the most precious jewel in the world. It just looked so easy for him, while I was struggling at every turn. Then you grew up and got your Quirk, and…God, it was like looking in a mirror. I had never met someone as explosive as me. It was a damn nightmare.”

"So we've established you hate me then. Please, go on. I'm sure you've got loads of good shit to say."

"Watch your attitude and let me finish what I'm saying." She slid the coffee cup across the counter. "For you, if you want it. I know your order."

As tempting as it was, he stayed rooted to the floor. Taking it would validate her behavior, and he wasn't about to let it slide anymore.

She sighed and rubbed her temple as if the entire interaction was giving her a headache. "I don't hate you, Katsuki. You know that. I'm not saying anything I say or do is the right thing, and I'm not saying to forgive me for any of it. I shouldn't have said what I said about him leaving, but you never told me anything. You shut down. I don't know the story. And I'm sorry for assuming it had something to do with you, but what could have happened that made a nice, selfless guy like Kirishima run away?"

Bakugou snorted and rolled his eyes. "You can't come up with any other reason besides I might have pushed him over the edge?"

Mitsuki shrugged. "I think a lot of people sort of assumed it was a messy breakup." She looked around the room again, eyebrows furrowing with concern, then looked at Bakugou again. "Wanna tell me what's really going on?"

I wish I knew.

"I have to get ready for work," he said instead. "Places to protect, people to save. You know. Hero shit."

She waved him away. "Go. Get ready. I'll clean up in here a little bit for you."

He started to protest, but she held her hand up to silence him. Of course she wasn't forgiven, and all the shit she had said to him in the past wasn't forgotten. But he had said and done some pretty shitty things to her too. Accusations and name-calling were their favorite games to play with each other.

"Fine," he relented. "But don't go in the bedroom."

"Oh my god, Katsuki." She got up from her seat and grabbed a broom, heading toward the kitchen to clean up all the broken plates and glasses he didn't remember breaking. He waited. He could tell by the way she held herself that there was more left she wanted to say. Finally, as he heard the first crunch of broken glass being swept into the dustpan, she looked up at him, and there was something in her eyes that unnerved him. Sympathy. Sorrow. And not because she was feeling sorry for herself.

"How long have you two been seeing each other again?" she asked.

Shitshitshitshitshit. He was bad at keeping secrets, even worse at keeping secrets from his mother. She knew there was something going on between him and Kirishima before he even knew it.

He needed to play dumb.

"Seeing who?"

Mitsuki sighed, leaning on the broom handle. "You little shit. You know who I'm talking about."

His nerves were so out of control he couldn't even think straight. Mitsuki thought it was shameful when he was kidnapped by villains. How the hell would she take it if she knew for sure he was sleeping with one? She would call the cops on him for sure. His license would be revoked, and he'd be thrown in jail to rot. He was a bad liar, but he would have to at least try.

"How do you know I've been seeing him?" he asked.

Fuck.

"Katsuki, you hate every single person you meet. You expect me to believe you had anyone else in this apartment leaving it in this state?" She sighed again. "I know you never stopped caring about him. I know that's why you haven't caught him yet. I don't know what's going on, but I do know how you feel. It's obvious."

He stood frozen, unable to make himself move or talk. His mouth felt dry, and he found himself digging his nails into his skin just so that he could focus on something other than the cold terror running through him. He could feel the sting of tears behind his eyes, but he refused to let his mother see him cry. Surely she would have something shitty to say about that.

"You have no idea what I'm feeling right now. I don't even know what I'm feeling right now."

"You wanna do the right thing, but the right thing isn't the best thing for you. You're trying to choose between duty and your own feelings, and you're angry because you're letting your feelings win." She dropped the broom and started across the room toward him. He was too stunned to try to run away. "It's not wrong to feel things. You don't have to be angry and alone all the time. You get so embarrassed about showing any sort of affection toward anyone, but it's not anything to be embarrassed about. I knew the first time you brought Eijirou home that he meant the world to you, and all that pain and heartbreak doesn't necessarily change that. He means more to you than anyone else. Hell, he's probably more important than your pro hero career. If he wasn't, I don't think you would still be seeing him."

He hated her for being able to see through him, to explain all of his thoughts and feelings rationally to him like every last bit of it made any damn sense and it wasn't just a violent tangle of emotions constantly crashing into one another. He hated her for seeing the trouble he was in, for talking so softly and smoothly, like a loving, caring mother was supposed to. She had never spoken to him so tenderly as she did now. The way she loved him was loud and violent and terrifying at times, and they tore each other to pieces all the time.

But she understood him. She saw him. And even if he hated her for what she had said and done, it didn't negate the fact that she was his mother. And he needed his mother right now.

He let the dams break, let the sob roll out of him and shake his entire body as he fell into her outstretched arms. He could hear her whispering to him but didn't catch the words over the sounds of hot, burning tears falling from his eyes and painful cries shaking out of his chest. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, pulling him close as she rubbed soothing circles into his back and pressed a kiss to his hair.

"I have no fucking idea what I'm gonna do," he said. "I can't…arrest him. I can't go against the Commission. My entire life is falling apart. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"Mm. Nothing ever really works out the way it's supposed to." She carded her fingers through his hair and sighed. "I'm sorry, kid. I never would have wished this sort of pressure on my worst enemy."

He sniffled, wiping at his heated cheeks, and pulled away from her arms. He couldn't even remember the last time she hugged him and really meant it. "Sorry I ruined your life or whatever," he said.

"Shut your damn mouth. You didn't ruin anything. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, you little asshole." She nudged him playfully in the arm, offering him a reassuring smile. "I love you, Katsuki. Everything is gonna be fine. Now go get ready for work. You're a hero." She placed her hands on his shoulders, looking him dead in the eye. "Save him."

God, it sounded impossible at this point, but he nodded anyway. He took the coffee cup from the counter and made his way to the bathroom to get ready.

He hadn't noticed it before, but there was a heart and a smiley face drawn on the mirror for him.

Bakugou didn't like the assortment of people at the table with him. It made him feel like there was something going on that everyone seemed to understand except for him. His PR manager sat next to him tapping away on his phone while the other heroes around him looked around at each other like they'd never met before.

Bakugou usually liked the silence, but it was deafening now, more so than any explosion he had ever created. He cleared his throat, and Kendou Itsuka looked up at him with wide, round eyes that held secrets he would never understand.

"So…Icy Hot," he said, leaning back in his chair and throwing his feet onto the table. Several people looked up, and his PR manager sighed in frustration.

Todoroki looked up at him underneath his long, shaggy hair, not saying anything, but his face spoke more than any words could. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. His skin was paler than normal, almost gray and sickly, all of the color gone from his eyes. He looked like he had been reduced to absolute waste and was just waiting to be thrown away.

He shouldn't press. He shouldn't say anything out of line. Not with all these managers and assistants and Commission members sitting around watching them like they were just waiting for one of them to step out of line.

But he couldn't help himself. They could get fucked.

"Has Sero called you? He was telling me he was thinking about it, but he wasn't sure –"

"Yes." His tone was final. A warning. Bakugou glanced from Todoroki's stark, stony expression to the look of shock on his manager's face. She hesitated, her perfectly manicured fingers hovering over the bright screen of her smartphone, her lips moving as if she wanted to speak. "He's called me several times, but I…haven't gotten a chance to call him back."

Bakugou shrugged, leaning back further in his chair. "You should. He was really looking forward to hearing from you."

He watched Todoroki's fingers fall to his wrist, a brief, almost subconscious move that would have gone unnoticed if someone wasn't looking for it. But Bakugou was waiting. And as he watched his fingers tremble and curl away from his wrist, he knew he was onto something. And he wasn't going to stop. Not yet.

"What about Camie? Seen her lately?"

Todoroki took in a shaky breath right as his manager slammed her phone down on the table and said, "That's enough. I don't know what you're doing, but we're not here to gossip about fellow heroes."

"What are we here for then?" Bakugou asked. "You get summoned by the Commission, you can't turn it down. They never tell you what they want though, do they?"

"Bakugou…" Tsu said underneath her breath, averting her eyes. Another warning.

Inoue snapped the cover over his phone screen and turned to Bakugou then, utterly exhausted and more than a little irritated. "Don't question why you're here. Appreciate that I was able to get you into this group of fine people. You're difficult to work with, and many people wouldn't be willing to give you so many chances after the way you've behaved in the past. You should be proud the Commission is giving you any sort of attention at all."

"I'm one of the top heroes, dumbass. It would be pretty fucking stupid if they just pretended I didn't exist, wouldn't it?"

Tsu groaned and buried her face in her hands, while Yoarashi Inasa murmured under his breath about arrogance and dishonor. Bakugou had no idea what the hell that guy was doing here, but he would have gladly kicked him out.

"Watch your tongue, Dynamight," Inoue warned, his eyes darkening. "I know it's my job to get you out of every mess you get yourself into, but I wouldn't mind finding another hero that pays a little less if it keeps me off of the nightly news. I can't keep writing apologies for your poor behavior. Do you recall when–"

The door at the other end of the conference room opened wide, and a petite young woman in a bubblegum pink suit stood smiling at them like everything in the world was absolutely perfect. "Mr. Sugiyama would like to see Bakugou Katsuki and Asui Tsuyu, please."

A chill raced up Bakugou’s spine as he glanced next to him at Tsu, who let out a weak, frightened ribbit and hopped to her feet. Her PR manager led her encouragingly out of the room, smiling and making idle talk the whole way to calm her nerves. Inoue pushed past Bakugou and walked ahead of him, not even offering him a glance.

He had no idea where they were going. The building was huge, and he had only ever seen a few rooms here and there. It seemed they were brought to a different conference room every single time they stepped into the building. He was wary, though, as he made his way to the door, peering over his shoulder one last time at the people he was leaving behind. Originally, there had been twelve heroes in the room, and with him and Tsu leaving, now there were only four. They hadn't come back afterward.

Six men. Six women.

The door slammed shut behind him as the pink lady strutted out, humming a happy little tune and making her way to the front of the line to lead the way.

Bakugou felt cold. Frozen. The entire place seemed to be made of ice, unassuming and featureless, endless white walls of nothing but secrets and lies hiding behind them. A front for all the visitors that walked these halls, a way to make them feel calm, like they were in good hands.

He wondered if Kirishima had walked these halls, if he had felt the same bone-chilling terror that wracked Bakugou’s body now. Had he been taken to an office, sat down, talked to like he was a child? Threatened? Degraded? What had happened behind these walls that he had so blatantly ignored for the few months he and Kirishima were living their dream?

It seemed now that only Bakugou was living his dream. And Kirishima had kept his mouth shut instead of ruining it, living with God knows what and suffering alone.

He quickened his pace, reaching out for Tsu’s arm to pull her back, then realized he had no idea what he was doing or what he would even say. He didn’t know what was going on, but he certainly had more information than she did. She was probably terrified.

Or maybe, even worse, she knew exactly what was happening because she was already a victim herself.

“Tsu,” he whispered, and she shot him a look over her shoulder, a look that didn’t look entirely familiar on her face. It was something like fear, but it ran deeper than that. It made the walls seem closer, the hall seem narrower, the entire place seem darker. He dropped his hand and moved away from her.

“What are we doing here?” he asked Inoue, his tone growing colder. “What do they want with us?”

“They’re just having scheduled meetings with heroes, that’s all,” Inoue replied, not looking up from his phone. The distress in Bakugou’s voice obviously meant nothing to him. “I don’t understand why you’re so on edge. Honestly, just do what they say, and everything will work out perfectly for you.”

Just do what they say.

He wondered what they had asked of Todoroki or Camie or Yaomomo, how much pushing they had to do to make them submit.

“I heard that your friends broke up this morning,” the woman in the pink suit said without losing the cheerfulness in her tone. “Tailman and Invisible Girl? I forget their names –”

“Tooru and Mashirao?” Tsu’s voice rose slightly in alarm. “No, they –”

“Why the fuck are you telling us this?” Bakugou demanded as they rounded a corner and the woman pushed open another door that led into a mostly empty lobby. There were a few people lounging about in chairs and reading magazines, and none of them even bothered to look up as they walked through.

“My, you do have a foul mouth, don’t you?” the woman said with a light, breezy chuckle. “Inoue, you sure do have your hands full.”

“Tell me about it,” Inoue grumbled.

“Anyway, I was just making idle chatter,” the woman said with a sigh, opening the door out of the lobby. “It’s all over the gossip sites today. Invisible Girl was caught in a club last night with your other former classmate. Oh, what’s his name? Shouji? Tentacole?”

Bakugou pursed his lips into a thin line, watching the back of the woman’s head carefully with fire burning through his veins. He fucking hated being here. He fucking hated this woman. He fucking hated everything, but nothing worse than the way he felt about the Commission right now.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to gossip about our fellow heroes,” he said.

“Shut up,” Inoue hissed underneath his breath. “Stop talking back to these people.”

“Anyway, it’s such a shame,” the woman said, unfazed. “I adored them. I thought they would get married some day. Some people just aren’t compatible, I suppose. Do you believe in soulmates, Froppy?”

Tsuyu opened her mouth, then closed it, eyes wide as she floundered for some sort of answer. Luckily, the woman stopped in front of a door and turned to face them, getting her off the hook from answering. She smiled sweetly at them, though it did not reach her cold, dead eyes.

“We’re here,” she announced. “When your meeting is done, you can just head out the exit at the end of the hall and take the elevator to the first floor. Have a wonderful day!"

With that, she was gone, and Tsu, Bakugou, and their managers were left standing in front of a door with a golden nameplate that read "Sugiyama Norio." Bakugou glanced to the side at Tsu, dressed in her very finest dress with her hair pulled into a neat ponytail, looking as if she was going to a wedding instead of a meeting. Bakugou had not bothered to dress up; he didn't think they were worth it. What was troubling him, though, was now nervous she looked. She kept shifting her weight from one foot to the other and poking her tongue out just the slightest bit before pulling it back in.

He couldn't take it anymore. If they just stood out here wondering, there would be no way to know what sort of torment they were planning and, even worse, there would be no way of knowing how to stop it. He pushed open the door and stormed inside, not knowing what to expect as he hadn't ever met this Sugiyama guy.

What he did not expect, however, was the man standing behind the desk. Sano Masashi. The man who had belittled and mocked Bakugou and Kirishima's working relationship at every chance he could get. The man who was the leader in advocating for Quirk marriages. His stomach felt like it was turning continuous cartwheels as he stood there staring into the man's dark eyes. He barely even registered Sugiyama, bowing in greeting to him and introducing himself.

"Please, have a seat," Sugiyama said, gesturing toward the two chairs in front of his desk. Tsu moved hesitantly toward the left one as Bakugou backed toward the door.

"I'll stand," he said, glowering at the man as Inoue sighed beside him.

Sugiyama was the opposite of Sano – young, energetic, bright, and smiling. The way Kirishima used to be before they ripped him to pieces and destroyed his spirit. He picked up a pen, which promptly floated out of his hand and rested on a piece of paper next to him. "I can move small things with my mind," he explained with a grin. "It isn't particularly strong, but it is useful for note taking." The pen scribbled something, though it was so sloppy Bakugou could not read it. Sugiyama's smile grew wider. "Well, Froppy, I'd like to start by saying congratulations on your success in search and rescue missions out at sea! You truly are extraordinary. And congratulations to your little brother for getting into general studies at U.A. How exciting!"

"Uh…thank you," Tsu said, not matching the man's tone at all. She still seemed skeptical, as she should be. "Sir, can I ask why we've been brought here today? I had patrol with Ashido Mina –"

"Not to worry! Your shift has been covered." He leaned forward with a frighteningly large smile on his face as the pen continued to slash across the page. "Of course we’ve given you multiple awards, but we're planning on throwing a gala in your honor in the next couple of weeks to celebrate your achievements. You've broken into the top ten! Such a wonderful accomplishment! We would like to offer you a pay raise as well as better accommodations if you'd like. You don't have to move, of course. There is, however, a very luxurious apartment that just opened up in the same building that Bakugou lives in. Wouldn't that be nice? Living close to your friends instead of on the outskirts of town?"

Tsu glanced back at Bakugou, wringing her hands nervously. He stared blankly at her, unsure what sort of reassurance he could offer her. He thought he had an idea of the game they were trying to play, but he didn't want to be too hasty. If he threw all of his cards in now, he might not have a good hand to deal later.

"I guess so," she replied. "I like my apartment, though."

"Just something to think about!" Sugiyama said. "We want to give our top heroes the very best to reward them for all of their hard work. Don't you want to be rewarded for your hard work, Froppy?"

"You can call me Tsu," she said, followed by a ribbit that turned into a hiccup. She was unbelievably nervous. And there was really nothing to be done.

"Tsu," Sugiyama said kindly, his eyes gleaming. "Such a lovely name. And so fitting for you."

There was his opportunity to speak. "Do I need to be here if you're just gonna sit there and flirt with her for the next ten minutes, or can I go?"

Sugiyama finally turned his attention to Bakugou, his smile never wavering. If Bakugou had caught him off guard, he didn't show any sign of it. "Ah, Dynamight. You took your name from All Might, I assume?"

He didn't answer. If he started making small talk, he was afraid they would lead him into a trap before he even realized it. He had to read the room, had to stay one step ahead of them. If things were playing out the way he thought they were, he would need to fight back. Hard.

"Kind of a play on words," Sugiyama said, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in front of him. "All Might was one of my favorites too growing up. Such an admirable hero. And so honorable of you to try to live out his name."

Bakugou crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door with a huff. "I'm gonna surpass him," he said. "I'll be better than All Might could have ever been."

"There's that pride you're so famous for. I love it! It truly does suit a hero to be proud of what they do."

Bakugou glanced at Inoue first, but the man was hardly paying attention as he whispered to Tsu's manager, then at Sano, who had yet to even acknowledge anyone in the room. There was a stack of books in front of him, a pile of files and paperwork in a tray, and rows and rows of filing cabinets that he was almost certain were locked, though what information they were hiding was a mystery yet to be unraveled. They probably had all kinds of shit in this room, not to mention the entire building.

"Well, this was fun," Bakugou said. "Thanks for wasting my time." He reached for the doorknob, but Inoue's hand flew out quickly and slapped him away. The rage in his eyes made Bakugou back down. But only for a moment. He would find an escape out of this room. And he would take Tsu with him. Whatever they were doing, it wasn't going to work.

"I haven't even gotten to congratulate you!" Sugiyama exclaimed. "The Red Fury case. You're doing an excellent job seeking these troublemakers out and getting them into the prison cells where they belong."

Bakugou was silent for a moment, the only sound the steady thumping of his heart. Tsu turned all the way around in her chair, staring at him with her big, amphibious eyes. They were all watching him. And he had a feeling they were just waiting for a slip up, one little hint of information that they could not get elsewhere.

"I haven't caught him yet," he said, hoping his voice came out steadily enough. "He's gotten good at hiding. And he's incredibly strong. He…always gave me a challenge in school. We were compatible."

Sano looked up at him, the blank expression on his face not changing in the slightest. His old, dark eyes were menacing though, in a way that a monster's eyes might look. Bakugou had faced down villains that were far less creepy than this guy.

"By that I mean that most of our fights usually came to a draw," Bakugou said. "We were equal in strength. And don't quote me on that shit because I'll never say it again."

"Hmm." Sugiyama tilted his head to the side and tapped his chin in thought. "Strange."

"What?"

"If you were so equal in strength, why did he never break into the top ten? You should have been neck and neck fighting for the top positions. What was it that didn't work for him?"

Bakugou’s eyes darted to Tsu, then to Inoue, then to Sano. It was as if they were all expecting different answers. He could see Tsu tense, her grip on the back of the chair so tight it turned her knuckles white. She gulped, her tongue darting out nervously.

"I only ask," Sugiyama explained, "because there must be a weakness. Something holding him back. And if we can utilize that weakness, then perhaps we can find a way to end this once and for all. Wouldn't that be nice?" His tone was still bright and cheery, but something in his eyes had darkened considerably. He looked hungry – starving – for information. And he would do just about anything to get it. "Don't you want to put an end to this? All this rioting in the streets and the nonsensical lies they're telling about us? Don't you want to move on to bigger and better things?"

Bakugou gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. He wanted to hit something. Or someone. He hated that he had to exhibit total restraint in this room with these people. For bad behavior against reporters, he could be redeemed. For bad behavior against the Commission…well, he wasn't sure how far he could go before they wouldn't let him slip by anymore.

"I don't know what you're looking for," he said. "Kirishima is really good with offensive attacks, but ultimately he’s a defensive hero. The best way to take him down is with lots of offense."

Sugiyama's eyes narrowed. The pen scribbled faster. Each scratch against the paper was like a cannon going off. "That's obvious. You know I'm looking for something deeper than that, and there's no one that would know better than you."

Bakugou shrugged a little, hesitating close to the door. He scanned the room like he had always been taught to do, marking points of escape if it really came down to it and items that may be useful to him. There were probably things in those file cabinets, things he would never see, things they would do their very best to hide from the public eye.

“I don’t know what sort of answer you’re looking for,” he said. “I don’t know anything. Kirishima was – is – one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. There’s a good reason why we haven’t been able to take him down.”

Sugiyama sighed and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Alright. No knowledge of weaknesses. Let’s talk about strengths. What would you say his biggest strengths are?”

Bakugou rolled his eyes and glanced over at Inoue. Inoue, who used to work closely with Kirishima and his manager and who often liked working with Kirishima more than him. He used to like him. He used to respect him. Hell, everyone in this room liked him to some extent. He was a really damn likable person.

“I think the reason why he’s got such a big following is because people can trust him,” Tsu said.

Sugiyama tilted his head to the side, his eyes lighting up briefly as if this was the key he had been searching for all along. “Elaborate on that, Tsu.”

Tsu glanced over at Bakugou, almost as if asking for permission to continue speaking, but he was ignoring her. She was right, of course. Kirishima just had this face that people could trust. He was laid back, relaxed, carefree. He could make conversation easily and made people feel comfortable being in his presence.

So why was it that he had never broken the top ten?

“I…I don’t know,” Tsu answered. “I just always trusted him to do the right thing. I mean, after he broke the rules to go save Bakugou from the villains and all that. When we fought together, I didn’t have to worry because I knew he was watching my back.”

“And do you think he’s doing the right thing now?” Sugiyama asked.

“N-no,” Tsu answered quickly, automatically, shaking her head. “Of course not.”

“So what changed? Why is he not trustworthy to you now? Why is he all of a sudden attracting all of these low-level, nameless creatures on the outskirts of society that have taken to lives of crime to survive? He didn’t used to have that following, did he? What happened to make his philosophy about life and heroes shift so radically?”

“I’m leaving,” Bakugou announced. “No one told me this was going to be a Red Fury strategy meeting. Fucking Tsu isn’t even on the case.”

He reached for the doorknob again, this time successfully wrenching the door open before Sano’s voice cut through the room, cold and hard, like the hand of a corpse reaching out to grab him and drag him back in. “What do you know?”

Bakugou stood frozen, staring into the empty hallway and trying to process the question he had just been asked. His heart thrummed unsteadily in his chest, rising into his throat and pulsing with such anxious strength he thought he might choke. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and without turning around, forced himself to speak. “I already told you. I don’t know anything. I stopped giving a shit about him after he walked out the door and didn’t look back.”

“We both know that’s not quite true, is it?”

He closed his eyes, his shaky hand closing around the doorknob. In his mind, he tried to calculate how long it would take him to get away, if he just walked out and stopped answering their questions. Would they chase him? Would they force him back? He wasn’t sure anymore. He had been so certain of the people he was working for when he’d graduated from U.A., thinking that their first and most important priority was saving people, but now he didn’t know these people at all. They were cold, faceless strangers hiding behind walls of shadow that shrouded their true intentions.

He decided he would not run. His hatred burned too strongly for him to walk away from this. Slamming the door, he stomped back into the room and over to the desk, leaning over its shiny surface as he glared at the old man staring so blankly back at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“He wasn’t just your friend,” Sano said evenly, the first time that someone had willingly offered that information in a long, long time. “I recall the night of your graduation party when we first met that Kirishima said you were engaged.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “That wasn’t true. He had been drinking –”

“Yes, but if he had stuck around, you probably would be now, wouldn’t you? Probably planning a wedding.”

He heard Tsu ribbit and hiccup behind him. He ignored her. “Probably not. I never really wanted to get married. Or have kids. I fucking hate kids. Is that what this is about? All the fake marriages and the dating rumors and the fake babies –”

“There’s something you don’t understand about being a hero, Bakugou,” Sano said, not even wavering under the sharp, explosive tone of Bakugou’s voice. “Perhaps a long time ago the primary goal of heroes was to help save the world and protect the public from evildoers. But we live in a very open, social society now. There isn’t a single thing that doesn’t find its way to the Internet these days. The public loves their heroes. Oh, they’re thrilled to even see posts about what their favorite heroes had for lunch that day! They’re fanatics. They’re always ravenous for more information. They like to feel close to their favorite heroes, to know them personally and intimately, to feel like they’re a part of their lives as well. But most importantly, they like to be entertained. And if none of you are doing anything entertaining, then sometimes the story has to be changed a bit to keep everyone interested. You should be thanking us, Bakugou, for spinning stories and weaving lies, because otherwise you would be just another hero that no one gave a shit about.”

“Thank fuck! That’s all I’ve ever wanted! Shit, just let me be a hero. Stop treating me like I’m a fucking celebrity! I’m not –” He stopped himself, rubbing at his temple. His anxiety had spiked, his blood pressure was rising. He needed to talk about switching up his medications just to deal with these fucking idiots. He lowered his voice, tried to speak calmly and rationally, like he was talking to a particularly annoying child who wouldn’t listen. “I just wanted to be everything that All Might was. I wanted to be the number one hero, not a fluff piece on the celebrity networks and reality TV shows.”

“Do you think All Might got to where he was by just fighting crime?” Sugiyama asked with a bitter laugh. “Of course not! He never would have risen to the top if he wasn’t on the cover of magazines for being a part of a scandal here and there. People liked to see their favorites being caught doing human things. They liked seeing All Might leave nightclubs with beautiful young women. They liked seeing rumors about his latest tryst. They liked to know he was accessible and that they might have a shot. Perhaps young Bakugou didn’t care about what All Might was getting up to in his free time, but a large majority of the public did, and starting rumors and keeping him on the cover of every magazine and news site people visited is what ultimately contributed to his success. Not just his victory in fighting bad guys.”

Bakugou rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and plopped down into the seat next to Tsu, who was now sucking in air like she was just now getting the sweet taste of oxygen. “So tell me what was so damn uninteresting about me and Kirishima. Why is it that you had to cover up our relationship at every twist and turn and lie about everything –”

“Because it doesn’t sell!” Sano yelled, finally losing his calm composure. “You don’t understand how valuable you are, do you?”

“Of fucking course I understand! I’m the best damn hero there is, even if the numbers don’t show it.”

“And why do you think Midoriya is number one, hmm? Or Todoroki number two? Do you think it’s just because of their hero work? What about Uraraka? Why do you think you’re stuck at number four and haven’t moved anywhere in months?”

Bakugou rolled his eyes and slouched down in the chair. He was starting to unravel. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep at this. What were they implying? Why were Deku, Todoroki, and Uraraka ahead of him? What secrets were being kept from him?

“Kirishima never broke top ten because you didn’t like how loudly and intensely he loved,” he said slowly. “It pissed me the hell off for the longest time. He constantly wanted to be touching me, complimenting me, giving me anything and everything I ever wanted even if it meant sacrificing what he wanted. I’d never known anyone to care about me that much, and…” He sighed. He was telling them more than they deserved to know. But he couldn’t stop now, not even if he tried. “He wanted to hug me and kiss me and tell everyone about how much he cared about me all the time, and you just didn’t like it. You didn’t want your pro heroes to be –”

He stopped himself. He couldn’t say it. Even if it was the truth, he couldn’t say it. Because it would really solidify how monstrous they truly were. Instead, he said, “Deku and Uraraka are number one and number three because they’re straight passing and they’re…cute.” He wrinkled his nose at that. “You can sell straight passing and cute. You can sell a happy man and woman getting married, having children, creating the next generation of heroes. You couldn’t sell me and Kirishima because we didn’t fit your idea of what you thought we should be.”

It was starting to make sense to him now. Even though a lot of people were opening their eyes and widening their narrow minds, the vast majority of people still wanted…whatever Deku and Uraraka were. That’s why they appeared on so many reality shows. That’s why they had so many interviews all the time. And despite all of their heroic accomplishments, they probably wouldn’t be where they were right now if not for the fact that they were together and people accepted it. They were plastered all over every single magazine cover, every news site, every poster advertising anything sweet or romantic that the public desired but could not reach themselves. Uraraka and Deku gave them something to live vicariously through, to mend their sad, broken lives.

He still couldn’t figure out Todoroki, though. That was as mysterious as the two men standing in front of him now. Todoroki was, as Bakugou knew, very much bisexual – as many of his classmates were – and they had been selling him as the beautiful, mysterious bachelor with a tragic past ever since they’d broken into herodom. Maybe it was because so many people had crushes on him. But then again…

“Are we done here?” he asked. “I’m fucking tired of this waste of time, bullshit meeting.”

“I think we’ve learned everything that we needed to know for now,” Sugiyama said, smiling brightly at them as he stood to bow. “Thank you so much for coming in. It was delightful to speak with the two of you. Go home and get some rest. Your shifts are entirely covered for the day.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. As if he would be able to rest after this. He glanced over at Tsu, who had calmed down considerably and plastered on a very fake, nervous smile, but he could see how uncomfortable she was. After all those years of being with Kirishima, he had started becoming more aware of people’s feelings and actually caring. Especially now that he knew they were all probably suffering in private.

Maybe he should buy her tea or something to calm her down. It’s what Kirishima would do if the roles were reversed.

“Tsu,” he started to say, just as the phone on Sugiyama’s desk rang. He stayed silent, listening as the man answered and spoke quietly to the person on the other line. Lots of “yeses” and “mhmms” and “of courses” that told him nothing about what the conversation was about. Not to mention that the man was still smiling like today was the best day of his life. When he placed the phone back on the receiver, he leaned forward casually, folding his hands in front of him, and said, “The Red Fury has taken over a Commission member’s yacht. They were having a private brunch with some politicians today, and now they’re being held hostage.”

Tsu sucked in a shaky breath. Bakugou clenched his fist in his lap, wanting to get up, to run, but the unusual calmness in the room made him stay. What the hell were they just sitting here staring at each other for? How could they be so passive? Hadn’t they wanted Kirishima’s deepest, darkest secrets to take him down just a few moments before?

Sugiyama closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m so sorry, you two. I’m afraid you won’t be getting that day off after all.” He smiled again. “At least the yacht hasn’t left the shore yet! This should be a quick in and out for the two of you.”

“J-just the two of us?” Tsu asked.

“Of course.” Sugiyama tilted his head to the side, considering her. “I believe in you. There isn’t anything you can’t accomplish when you put two great minds together.”

Fuck.

Bakugou had a really, really bad feeling about this.

Chapter Text

“Fucking hell.”

Like every other crime scene, there were already police gathered, one of them on a megaphone trying to get the gradually growing crowd to back away from the dock, but to no avail. The red and blue lights were on, but the sirens were turned off. People were murmuring and pushing each other around trying to get a better look at what was going on.

And to the outside eye, there was absolutely nothing going on. The yacht sat still and silent, bobbing on the gentle waves next to where it was docked. There was not a single sign of life anywhere.

Bakugou glanced over at his partner for the day. She was still in her nice dress with her hair pulled back, looking as if she had just left a party. They hadn’t had time to stop by and get their support gear or costumes.

“What are you thinking?” he asked. She looked deathly pale, like she was going to be sick.

“I’m…afraid to see him again,” Tsu replied. She turned to face him now, her eyes wide, tears brimming at the corners but not spilling over quite yet. “Why is he doing this, Bakugou? We were all supposed to be friends! We were supposed to stick together and save the world –”

“Things are a little bit more complicated than holding hands and being friends,” Bakugou said with a huff. “Don’t be naive. You knew walking into this that it wasn’t going to be like U.A. We weren’t gonna have movie nights or spend every second together training and making each other better. Life was going to happen whether we wanted it to or not.”

Tsu let out a very watery sounding sob and a soft ribbit. “And what’s life like for you right now, Bakugou? What is it like fighting him? Because I feel…broken, and I wasn’t even that close to him. How are you able to do this?”

Kirishima would have hugged her to comfort her if he was standing where Bakugou stood. He would have held her and reassured her that everything was going to be okay. Bakugou was not that type of person. But Tsu was falling apart right in front of him. She had always been so hurt when their classmates betrayed her trust.

He couldn’t offer her the same sort of comfort Kirishima could, but he placed a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at him, blinking back her tears, and gave him a soft smile. There was no joy behind it, but there was gratitude, and she reached for his other hand and squeezed it lightly. Somehow she was able to make him feel a little better too.

“It’s Froppy!” a little girl yelled from the crowd. “Froppy! Hi!”

Tsu wiped her tears and turned around, plastering a fake smile on her face as she waved to her tiny fan. The little girl – perched on her father’s shoulders – giggled and held up her Froppy action figure.

“She takes that toy everywhere with her,” the dad said. “She loves you. Thanks for all you do, Froppy.” His gaze moved to Bakugou standing next to her, and though he looked less pleased, he added, “Get in there and kick some ass.”

“Yeah!” the little girl exclaimed. “Kick some ass!”

“Haruka –”

“Froppy. Dynamight.”

The chief of police for this region stood before them looking solemn and exhausted. He was an older man, small, squat, with a very serious face and more wrinkles than he probably should have had at his age.

“Reporting for duty, sir,” Tsu said, standing tall and very official now. No one could have guessed she’d been crying just moments before.

“Let me give you a rundown of the situation before you walk in there,” the chief said. He rubbed at his overgrown stubble, his eyes drooping slightly. “As you may know, LavaTech had been developing new support items and technology for heroes to use when the CEO was murdered. The Commission has started utilizing one particular piece of technology known as the Shield. Whereas we used to have to use Quirk-canceling bracelets or cuffs to shut down someone’s Quirk, we are now able to shield an entire area from people using their Quirks. Some Commission members have started using it in their homes as a way to protect themselves from intruders. Such is the case here as well. They have the Shield turned on, meaning that your Quirks are not going to work, which is unfortunate. However, it also means whatever Red Fury members are in there also can’t use their Quirks.”

“How do we turn it off?” Bakugou asked.

“You’ll have to find the switch,” the chief replied. “There’s a code that needs to be put in, but no one knows what it is except for Fujiwara, and he’s…incapacitated.”

“How many people were at the meeting?” Tsu asked.

“Ten. And we’re expecting maybe five Red Fury members.”

Tsu sucked in a breath and shuffled her feet nervously. “Can we handle five of them?”

“I don’t see why not. They’re all a bunch of weak ass cowards,” Bakugou replied. “Watch out for the chameleon guy. He won’t be able to blend in like he normally does, but he carries a metal pipe around too, and he has no problem beating someone to death with it.”

“That’s not really the way I wanted my hero career to end,” Tsu said.

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “You’ll be fine. They’re all a bunch of arrogant motherfuckers, and they make hasty decisions because they think they’re better than everybody.” He peered around the chief of police at the yacht. Still no sign of life anywhere. He wondered if Kirishima was actually there or if he had just sent his little minions to do…whatever the fuck they were doing. And what was the meeting even about? What was so important that they had to crash this particular meeting?

“Why did they send just us?” Tsu asked, her expression pinched with confusion. “What if we need backup? What do we do?”

Bakugou had some ideas, but he didn’t want to put much thought into it at the moment. There were still four more heroes at the Commission building being prodded and questioned about God knows what. And inside that yacht, there were ten people who could be dealing with some shady, illegal activity that the Red Fury was trying to shut down. Maybe it had something to do with Taiyo and the other missing children.

Maybe it had to do with whatever was going on with Todoroki and that Camie girl.

Maybe it was about the Quirk marriages.

Oh god, what if they were starting to sign that into law?

“We should go,” Bakugou said, taking Tsu’s arm and guiding her down the dock. It seemed like she was struggling to keep up with him, her feet not moving as they were supposed to. She still made soft ribbitting noises that were somewhere between gasps and sobs. She felt things deeply, Bakugou realized. Just as deeply as Kirishima did. And this was killing her.

“Good luck, you two!” the chief called to them as he handed both of them an earpiece. “Keep us updated on what’s going on in there. Let us know if you need some assistance.”

“We won’t, but thanks,” Bakugou said. “Give us twenty minutes. We’ll have all of them out of there and in handcuffs where they belong.”

The chief nodded slowly, hesitantly, then bowed to both of them. “Twenty minutes. Then we’re coming in.”

Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes to track down five or more Red Fury members and get ten Commission members safely out. And without their Quirks. Shit.

Unsurprisingly, there was no one on the deck of the yacht. Tsu stepped lightly around the railing and peered down a long, narrow staircase that led to the lower levels of the yacht, which was obviously where everyone was located. It was a small yacht, nothing fancy, so Bakugou couldn’t imagine that there were a lot of rooms for them to check out where people could hide.

“I don’t really understand how my Quirk can be canceled out,” Tsu whispered as she leaned on the railing, slipping her high heels off. She slipped her tongue out between her lips, but instead of flicking out like a rope to grasp onto anything, it just lay flaccid against her chin, which was a whole lot more disturbing to look at than Bakugou cared to admit. Though that was plenty of proof to him that the whole Shield business was real, he still tried to ignite his hands. As expected, there was nothing.

“This is fucking stupid,” he said with a frustrated sigh. “Not that I don’t think I can kick their asses anyway, but I’d like to do it with a little bit of style, you know? Otherwise I just look like a fucking commoner.”

Tsu worried her lip between her teeth as she stepped onto the first stair. It creaked underneath her weight. “I know I’m supposed to be brave,” she said, taking another step, “but I don’t think I’ve ever been more terrified in my life.”

“Because it’s Kirishima?”

She looked up at him, towering over her on the deck, and slowly, she nodded. “Yeah. Because it’s Kirishima. You’ve fought him lots of times. Is he…different?”

He wrapped a hand around the railing and looked behind him at the growing crowd. He could hear their cheers of encouragement, but they didn’t mean anything. He had no idea what he was walking into, what these Commission people were meeting about or why Kirishima felt like this was the meeting he needed to crash. “Yeah,” he replied, hopping down to stand next to her on the steps. Her eyes widened. The stairwell was narrow, and there was barely any room for the two of them to move side by side. “He’s different. Really different. But he’s still…”

Tsu gulped. Her hand brushed against Bakugou’s, and he quickly withdrew himself, pressing himself against the wall as far as he could go. He didn’t think it through when he started his descent with her. “Still what?” she asked.

“He’s still there. He still cares about us. Probably more than we ever realized.”

Tsu didn’t reply, but he could feel her eyes on him, the gears of her mind turning as she tried to put his words into some sort of perspective she could understand. She was so far out of the loop. It wasn’t fair to send her on this mission with him. And he couldn’t tell her anything. Not without putting her life and her entire career at risk.

“Come on,” he said, taking her wrist and dragging her down the remainder of the stairs. At the bottom, there was a narrow wooden door with a round window that was perfectly at eye level with him. There was no knob, no lock. He pushed it open slowly, taking a few steps into the room to check out what they were dealing with before waving Tsu in as well.

There were no people there now, but clearly, there had been some sort of conflict. A long table that had held various plates piled high with food and glasses filled with wine or champagne was turned over, leaving the remnants of the meal scattered all around their feet. The wine that was still slowly spreading across the clean, wooden floor looked like a puddle of blood. Above them, a chandelier swayed back and forth precariously, the tinkling of the glass like bells warning them to stay away.

“Who the fuck needs a chandelier on a fucking boat?” he said, kicking a piece of toast out from underneath him. “These people have too much fucking money, and they have no idea what to do with it.”

“This is an original art piece,” Tsu said, pointing to the painting on the wall. It was a simple painting, a portrait of a blonde woman that almost looked like Mt. Lady, but he didn’t think it was actually her. “I saw this at the auction they had at the last gala I went to. It sold for ten million yen.”

“That’s insane.” He wandered through the room, studying the furniture and the rugs and the tapestries that must have been imported from faraway places and cost more than Bakugou made in a month fighting for his life every day. One of the cushions of the red velvet couch had been cut open, and stuffing was spilling out onto the floor. Some books that looked like logs of incoming and outgoing funds were spread out across the floor, some of the pages soaked through with spilled champagne. Bakugou crouched to pick one of them up and scanned over the words. Most of them were names that he didn’t recognize, accompanied by ridiculous amounts of money that he had never even dreamed of having, but as he reached the end of the page and saw today’s date, he saw a name that sounded vaguely familiar to him: Shindou You.

“Tsu, who is this?” Bakugou asked, handing her the sheet for her to look at. “It sounds familiar.”

She frowned, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the page. “That’s Grand. The hero with the vibration Quirk.”

“Why does it have him listed as receiving money from this Fujiwara guy today?” Tsu handed it back to him, and he tossed it aside as he made his way through the rest of the room. There was a small lounge area that smelled like cigar smoke, as well as a tiny alcove that served as a kitchen, where it appeared a chef and servers had put together the meal for the brunch meeting. Which meant there were currently more than ten people being held hostage on the yacht.

“Bakugou!” Tsu croaked, pointing to the hallway that led out of the dining room. “Look.”

Ah, of course. Blood. He didn’t expect anything less.

“He killed that banker,” she said, as if saying it out loud pained her. “Do you think he would kill someone here too?”

“It depends.”

She had no idea what he was talking about, and he didn’t care to elaborate. She stepped closer to him, wringing her hands nervously in front of her. She would be fine once the fight began, but she was afraid. He didn’t know how to assure her that everything was okay, that Kirishima was ultimately on their side, even if he had idiotic, twisted ways of showing it.

“Well, obviously someone’s hurt somewhere, and we need to find them –”

Something crashed at the end of the hallway. Tsu’s head shot up, and then she crouched low, squatting like she would if she was about to take a flying leap across the room. Would the Shield cancel that out too?

“There’s someone in that room down there,” she said.

“Yep.” He scanned the floor in front of them. The overhead lights had been turned off in the hallway, but he could still see the vague outline of splatters on the floor, lines of red so dark they looked black disappearing into the room where they had heard the crash. “Tsu, I need you to stay up here and deal with whatever’s going on behind that door.”

She pursed her lips together, slowly rising back to her feet as she looked at him with fear shimmering in her eyes. “What if it’s him? What should I do? Tell me how I’m supposed to look him in the eye and –”

“Shut up.”

She looked startled, as if he had slapped her, but he was already moving down the hallway, listening closely to the low rumble of voices before him. He couldn’t make out any words, but he could hear two people talking, both gravelly, husky voices that he guessed were male.

“They have to know we’re here,” Tsu whispered to him, treading silently right at his heels as they made their way down the dark, narrow hallway. She was careful where she stepped, her bare feet squishing into the carpet that was wet with what Bakugou hoped was just ocean water. The further they went down the hallway, the wetter the carpet grew, and the brighter and fresher the blood stains.

“He’s not up here,” Bakugou said. “He’s on the yacht, but he’s not up here. I don’t know what’s going on, but I need you to take care of it. Can I trust you to do that?”

She frowned, again looking as if he had just hit her squarely in the face, then said, “What are you talking about? Of course you can trust me! I’ve got your back, Bakugou. I can handle whatever’s up here if you can just get to Kirishima.”

He smiled a little at her and nodded. “I know. Still, be safe and trust your instincts. Oh, and watch out for that metal pipe.”

She gave him a thumbs-up as she pressed herself into the corner next to the door where the voices were coming from, practically melting into the shadows. This wasn’t his first team up with Tsu, but it was the one he felt most confident about. Even if she was scared, even if she couldn’t understand Kirishima’s feelings or motivations, he knew that she would fight until she couldn’t anymore. More than anything, he trusted her to get the hostages out. Tsu was an expert at search and rescue. There was a reason he was getting a gala thrown in her honor.

He didn’t hear the shouts and the fighting until he had gotten to the bottom of the next staircase, bringing him right into the belly of the ship. He stopped, hovering only briefly to listen to the sounds of glass breaking and someone or something hitting the wall. A bloodcurdling scream tore through the air, but it didn’t belong to anyone he recognized. He had to assume, for the time being, that Tsu was okay. She was strong. She didn’t need him. She was a top ten hero now, after all.

The room that he stood in looked like a storage room, though the things that were stored here looked to be more expensive than his penthouse apartment. Some of it was high-tech support gear that had never made it past the prototype, while some things looked to be ancient items that belonged in museums, vases and urns and bowls mended with gold running through the cracks. It didn’t make any sense to store these things here unless they were planning on taking it somewhere.

There were two doors in the room – one in front of him, one to his left. There was no sign of blood down here, but he could hear something behind the door to his left, something like…moaning? It sounded like someone was in pain. He crept closer, his heart rising into his throat as he stopped short in front of the door, wondering why no one had emerged yet to stop him. If there were five Red Fury members and more than ten hostages, where were they? The yacht wasn’t that big. They couldn’t all be shoved into one room, could they?

Maybe most of them were upstairs. Maybe they had guards keeping a watch on the less important members of the meeting while Kirishima took care of the leader down here. He pressed his ear to the door and listened as the moaning continued. It was a woman, he realized. Or, that’s what it sounded like. He hesitated, his stomach turning flips as the moans grew louder, and the room seemed like it was swaying, tilting, about to flip over.

He closed his eyes, concentrating as much as he could on the sounds. There was grunting. It was low, barely discernible, but it was there, drowned out by the moans and the creak of bed springs.

“Oh my god,” he hissed under his breath. “Is everyone fucking horny all the time?” He rolled his eyes and sucked in a breath, mentally preparing himself for whatever he was going to find behind this door, then spun around and kicked it open.

Even if he had warned himself that there were people fucking in here, he still wasn’t prepared for the sight before him. The room was small, cramped, with a tiny window that let in the slightest bit of sunlight to illuminate the two figures on the bed. They didn’t even seem to notice him at first, going at it like fucking animals, though it seemed like the only one having a good time was the middle-aged woman riding the younger man’s dick underneath her. Her brown hair – streaked with gray – was falling out of its tight bun, wisps of it sticking to her flushed, sweaty face. She was completely naked except for a string of pearls around her neck and a massive diamond ring on her finger. Each bounce of her ancient body on the young man’s lap tore a wretched, unhinged moan from her throat as she cried out for more more more.

The young man’s hands fell to the woman’s hips as he pushed up into her, picking up speed, her hands scrabbling for some sort of leverage but clutching at her pearls instead. It was hot, so unbelievably hot in the room. Bakugou shoved himself against the wall and forced down the bile rising in his throat as sweat dripped down his face and the woman let out a strangled cry, her orgasm making her entire body tremble. The young man below her let out a soft moan as he went completely limp, his hands falling away from her and covering his face.

On the young man’s wrist was a bracelet that looked exactly like the one Todoroki had tried desperately to hide. The same bracelet that was on a naked portrait of Camie in the love hotel. Bakugou’s breath caught in his throat as he counted the beads – two red, three yellow, two green, five blue. He had no idea what any of it meant.

“Hey!” he yelled, his voice coming out strained as he averted his eyes. The woman turned to face him, her bare breasts on full display shamelessly for him. Not that he wanted to look. He had never been attracted to women. Especially old women. Fuck, why were they all so damn horny?

“Did you get a good show, pervert?” the woman asked, scowling. And then, as she studied him, the hard lines of her face slowly dissolved. “You’re Dynamight. What are you –”

“Your yacht party has been taken over by the Red Fury,” Bakugou growled harshly at them. “Someone might be dead upstairs. But by all means, take some time to fuck. Don’t let me interrupt you. Fucking morons.”

The young man tilted his head to look at him, and Bakugou felt all of the air leave his lungs in one whoosh, making it hard for him to breathe. He recognized him now. That was Shindou You, the vibration hero. And whatever was going on with Todoroki and Camie was going on with him too. His eyes were dark, his expression impossible to read. Bakugou might have described it as sad, but that wasn’t quite it. It was just…hollow. Numb. Like he was completely trying to shut himself off.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Shindou asked, his voice hoarse.

Bakugou wrinkled his nose. God, they were still just there. He turned his back on them and rubbed at his aching forehead, struggling to make himself breathe. “Yeah, will you fucking put some clothes on and go help Tsu upstairs? Damn it, I’m so fucking tired of you people.”

He could hear movement behind him, but he tried to ignore it as best he could. The woman was a hostage just like everyone else, after all. He needed to get her out just as much as he needed to get everyone else out.

“There are police upstairs,” he told Shindou. “Take her to the deck and make sure she makes it out safely. I’ve got something to deal with down here. If you see any hostages, get them out. And take out the Red Fury by any means necessary. No more fucking around.”

Shindou nodded, keeping his gaze to the floor as he pulled on his boots. Bakugou glanced at the bracelet again, on full display for everyone to see, unlike Todoroki’s. He counted the beads again. Twelve. What were they for? What did the different colors mean? He tried to recall the colors he had seen on Todoroki’s and Camie’s, but it was all a blur.

Shindou let the woman out first, and Bakugou watched as he pulled on a black jacket over his hero costume. He wanted to ask why his name had been on that log, why he was at this meeting, who that woman was, what the hell was going on with him and the other heroes, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. He let Shindou walk away with no answers.

But he had suspicions. And oh god, it made him sick. This wasn’t the world he was promised. Not at all.

He exited the room and slammed the door shut behind him. On a whim, he tried to use his Quirk, but once again, he found that it was gone. It left a strange sensation tingling through his fingers and a sort of hollowness as his body tried to catch up with what it was supposed to be doing. The smell of nitroglycerin was actually making him sick.

Above him, there was a fight. Voices mingled together, indistinguishable, and as much as he wanted to help, he knew his services were needed down here. Kirishima was here, and he probably had the Fujiwara guy. If he didn’t make it a top priority to rescue the guy – despite whatever shady business he might be into – they would be suspicious. They were already suspicious of him, it seemed. After all, Kirishima was the only person he ever let love him as loudly and proudly as he did. The only reason he wasn’t suffering now is because he had been complicit back then.

“Okay, you can come out now,” he said to the empty room. “I know you’ve got him down here somewhere. If you surrender now, there won’t be a fight. Although you know I don’t mind a fight.” He smirked, leaning against the wall and waiting in silence. There was no answer. Not that he expected one.

“Fine,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “We can do this the hard way, I guess. You can’t run forever, Kirishima. And you’ve kinda cornered yourself today. Where the hell are you expecting to escape?”

He stepped toward the other door in the room, slow, silent, listening for the telltale sign of a voice or a breath, but there was nothing but the fighting upstairs and the rush of waves against the side of the yacht, making the floor sway gently below him. He sighed, kicking open the door and stomping into the room. A muffled scream met his ears, and his gaze fell to the man tied to a chair in the corner of the room, a flickering lightbulb hanging just above his head. It looked like a scene right out of an old mystery movie. The man’s eyes were wide, pleading, ringed red and puffy from tears. There was duct tape over his mouth, and his legs, hands, and torso were bound to the chair so that he was completely unable to move except for his head. A bruise bloomed on his forehead, and his clothes were torn in places to reveal streaks of blood across his skin.

Somewhere else in the room, hidden behind all the boxes holding priceless treasures, someone was singing.

“Okay, listen,” Bakugou said, stepping toward the man he assumed to be Fujiwara, “I’m gonna get you out, but I have to take care of the asshole villains first. I’m not making any sudden moves so they don’t come after you. So I need you to tell me how many people are in this room with you. Is it one?”

Fujiwara shook his head rapidly and tried to say something, but Bakugou kept going. “Two?”

Again, he shook his head.

“Three?”

Fujiwara nodded vigorously, fresh tears sprouting from his eyes and running down his face. Bakugou stared at him, wondering once again what this man was up to, if he needed to hate him for it too. Was he ruining everyone’s lives the same way the other Commission members were? What exactly was he contributing to their torment and the pressures put on them outside of saving the world?

The singing grew louder, echoing and bouncing off the walls, making goosebumps rise along his skin. It sounded like they were in a cave, and there was a siren trying to lure them out to sea. Not that he would ever fall for that crap.

“You’re not being very subtle,” he said, kicking over a box and making his way down an aisle of shelves packed full of files, log books, magazines, and newspapers, all of them plastered with some name of a hero who may or may not have suffered at the hands of the Commission. “Come out, Siren. It’s over.”

He stopped at the end of the aisle, waiting. The singing stopped, though the echo still lingered for several seconds, a haunting melody ringing in the empty air. It made a chill run down his spine as he looked around, second after second ticking by in a cold, eerie silence. He had never seen Siren fight, he realized. He had no idea what she could do outside of putting people to sleep with her voice.

"Hey!" he yelled, slamming his hand against one of the metal shelves. The dull ring of it grated through the room as boxes thudded to the floor and spilled out years and years worth of chronicles of heroes' lives. He looked down and saw the smiling face of All Might staring back at him from the cover of a vintage magazine. "You can either come out now or I'll drag your ass out. Either way, you're done."

"Sad. I can still sing, but it doesn't have any power behind it."

He turned around quickly to find the lavender-haired woman seated on one of the boxes that had been sealed shut. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger and gazed up at the ceiling, almost as if she was talking to herself and not to him. Her clothes were basically rags, tattered and hanging from her body like seaweed wrapped around her skin. "It was supposed to bring people peace, you know," she said. "I always sang to my sister when we were younger and she was having nightmares. It helped her fall asleep. I visited mental wards, hospitals, nursing homes. All I wanted was to give people a chance to rest. It should have been appreciated, right?"

Bakugou remained silent. He had listened to villains monologuing before. It wasn't anything new. Still, there was a sadness in her voice that he'd never heard before. It wasn't just a show for sympathy or mercy.

"People started to think I would take advantage of them with my voice. Teachers didn't trust me. My mom was convinced I was stealing from her. There were so many that assumed I would use my Quirk to harm people. I suppose I could." She tilted her head to the side, considering the idea. "I could have harmed your friends at the engagement party. I could have harmed the Commission members at Wonderland. But I've never wanted to hurt anyone. I've never wanted to take anything from anyone. All I wanted was to live. And to give people peace."

He leaned against the shelf, glaring at her as she settled her mint green eyes on him. Tears sparkled against her skin, but she smiled weakly at him anyway. "They used to call me a siren in school. The boys were afraid to date me. They said I had a monster's Quirk, and it would only end with their demise. The older girls duct-taped my mouth shut and locked me away for hours in a broom closet before the janitor found me. They could only see the bad things about my Quirk. They didn't see that I just wanted to help. I was marked as a villain before I even got a chance to show people what I could do."

A long silence lingered between them. Bakugou could hear Fujiwara struggling against his bindings, screaming against the duct tape muffling his voice. He wondered how many more victims there were, how many more Red Fury members needed to be taken down.

"Why are you telling me all this shit?" he asked. "As if I fucking care. We all have our problems."

She closed her eyes and tilted her head to the sky, like she was listening for something. A soft smile tugged at her lips. "You were one of them, weren't you? One of the kids that bullied others because of their Quirks? Or because they were Quirkless?"

He clenched his fist. It felt like stones were settling in his stomach. He actually thought he might have liked her before, but this? This was uncalled for.

"Listen –"

"I'm not judging you. I can tell that you've grown up a lot. You just don't understand –"

"Of fucking course I understand! I was fucking kidnapped by a group of villains because they thought they could turn me to their side! But guess what? I fucking dealt with it, and I kept fighting to prove that I wasn't like them. Life doesn't define who you are; you do. So maybe stop blaming society –"

"You're still so blind. I'm sorry." She held her hand out to him, and he hesitated, almost going to her. She had this magnetism about her, even without the singing. Ultimately, he decided to keep his distance. He still didn't know what sort of fighting style she had, if she could even fight at all. "You were given a chance to change your fate, Bakugou. And you had friends who believed in you, whether you wanted them or not. I didn't have anything." She blinked, more tears falling down her face, shimmering in the dim light. "I've been alone for years, wandering and hoping for a chance. There are good people in the world, but I have yet to meet them. The only person that has offered me redemption is Kirishima, and through his efforts –"

"Are we gonna fight or are you just gonna sit there and give me your sob story for the rest of the day? I don't have time for this shit."

She wiped at her cheeks with the heel of her hand and smiled wanly. "I'm not going to fight you, Bakugou. You can strike me as many times as you wish, but I won't fight back."

He shuffled nervously in place for a moment. He was usually more than eager to rush into a fight, but this was different. This was just…sad. Why would he want to fight if no one was going to fight back? Didn't that make him the bad guy?

"Where is he?" he asked. "I know he's in here somewhere."

Siren sighed dreamily and hopped off the box with all the grace of a sprite or a fairy. "He was really looking forward to seeing you."

"Great. So I'll handle him, and you let Fujiwara and all the other hostages go. And then you turn yourself in and stop dicking around."

"I'd be more than willing to hand myself over," she said, swaying from side to side in a dreamy little daze. In the few times he’d seen her, she’d never acted quite like this. Bakugou was wondering if she was starting to unravel. "However, I still have work to do." She curtsied to him as she rounded the corner to the next row of shelves. "Good luck. I hope you find yourself one day soon."

She darted away, and Bakugou let out a feral scream as he rammed into the shelves, knocking boxes of files down and scattering years and years worth of garbage onto the floor. Papers flew and twisted in the air as if caught in a whirlwind, and stacks upon stacks of magazines piled on top of one another, opening to random pages describing all sorts of pointless shit like how heroes liked their meat cooked or what their favorite summer destination was. Stupid, meaningless piles of trash, no substance, no purpose. He kicked a large stack of them over and watched as one flipped to an article about Jirou's music recommendations. Underneath it, an ad that Kirishima had done for a local gym.

God, they really had decided everyone's image before they even had a chance.

He should have chased after Siren in the small room. It would have been a fast fight, ending with one less villain to deal with. But his eyes were drawn to the advertisement, and he crouched down to pick it up, studying the shiny words at the top: Build your body! Don't give up! At the corner, a thought bubble read, "Super manly!" The gym offered a deal for new members who mentioned Red Riot while signing up: fifteen percent off of their first year. Kirishima had his shirt off, gleaming with sweat and flexing the muscles he hardly had to do anything to maintain. He looked alive and happy and entirely in his element.

Bakugou remembered how excited he had been about this photo shoot. His first solo ad since they graduated! They'd had rejected pictures from the shoot sitting around their apartment for months before Kirishima managed to get some of them framed. He wasn't a vain person, but he loved that shoot. And Bakugou couldn't complain either. Not only did he have incredibly gorgeous pictures to look at when he was in a bad mood, but it had driven business up for their agency for several weeks after the release. Mostly women lurking and trying to get a date, but it didn't matter at the time because at least people knew they existed.

"That's when they told me that they liked my act."

Bakugou barely reacted to the sound of the voice behind him. He dropped the magazine but otherwise remained still, waiting.

It was a long moment before Kirishima spoke again. "I told them I wasn't acting, I actually did really like working out and training and having fun. But they told me I could go above and beyond with that. I could have this whole image and personality that they created for me. They said it would make me insanely popular." Bakugou didn't turn his head, but he could feel Kirishima crouching close to him, peering over his shoulder at the magazine. "I know I'm not the smartest person, but they wanted to dumb me down until I was stupider than Kaminari when he short-circuits. They said it would be – what was the word they used? Endearing."

Bakugou shook his head. He had heard the whole pitch, how uncomfortable it had made him, how he ultimately came to terms with letting people perceive him however they wanted to, because their perception wasn't what mattered as long as he was a good hero.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “Why this meeting? Why a yacht? You’re never gonna get away –”

“I will. Katsuki, it had to be now. Fujiwara deserves to pay for what he’s done. Everyone here deserves to pay.”

Finally, Bakugou forced himself to look behind him at Kirishima. There was blood splattered across his clothes and his neck, and Bakugou had a creeping feeling that it did not belong to him. He recalled the dead body at the bank, the sobbing man that had witnessed it happen, the horror that had struck him when he realized it was by Kirishima’s hands. He stared at him, unable to speak for a long moment, wondering if there were more dead bodies, if Kirishima was the one to put them there. He wondered at this point if he would be okay with it.

“I found Taiyo,” Kirishima whispered. “Or I think I did. And some other kids too.”

“Where?”
“In the mountains. I don’t know what they’re doing with them, but it can’t be good.”

In the mountains. Where Kirishima and Amajiki had found him roaming by himself after his parents died. And there were other kids too. What the hell would the Commission want with a bunch of kids? Unless…

His stomach twisted painfully, and he felt bile rise into his throat. “Did you know Shindou was here?”

Kirishima sighed and nodded. “I did.”

“What’s he –”

Something banged to the floor across the room and made the air ring with dull, metallic vibrations. He heard Kirishima suck in a breath, and he was on his feet in an instant, searching the shadows for whatever was waiting for them. The only sound was his heavy, nervous breathing and the water gently sloshing against the side of the boat.

“Katsuki, get out of here,” Kirishima said, his fingers wrapping around Bakugou’s wrist and thrusting him in the direction of the door.

“What? Hell no! I’m not fucking leaving you in here when –”

One heavy footstep fell against the floor. Silence. Then another. His breath caught in his throat as he turned quickly in the direction the noise was coming from, and suddenly it all came rushing back to him. Fujiwara told him there were three people in the room.

Siren.

Kirishima.

Shit.

He was barely able to react before he was being tossed to the ground, the entire room tilting and swimming before him as his head smacked against the wooden floor. A shock of pain raced through his body, and his vision darkened as blurry images vaguely shaped like humans flitted around above him. They felt a million miles away.

“Leave him alone. He’s not part of this.”

“Oh, come on, boss! Why should you be the only one allowed to have fun with the little hero? Let me smack him around a few times, show him just how weak he is without his little Quirk.”

Bakugou groaned and pushed himself up a little, watching as the Chameleon Man pushed Kirishima back a few steps and cackled like a maniac. Their features swam in his vision, but he could hear Kirishima’s soft voice chastising his little minion, and then he was pushing him back, and Chameleon Man stumbled into one of the shelves, knocking several smaller boxes over.

“Fucking shit,” Bakugou hissed, forcing himself to his feet and walking on shaky legs toward Kirishima. The rocking of the yacht was almost nauseating. Pain continued to explode through his skull, obscuring his vision, but he’d be damned if that fucking chameleon got any sort of win against him. “If this dumbass Shield wasn’t up, I’d have already blown you to bits. But I can still kick your ass all over this fucking yacht.”

“Ha! You sure do talk a big game for someone stumbling around like that.” Chameleon Man’s eyes narrowed as his long, reptilian tongue flicked out. “I can see why you like him so much, boss.” His gaze traveled from Kirishima to Bakugou, and he grinned, spinning his metal pipe in his hands. “But what are we gonna do with the little hero, huh? Can’t let him get away.”

“I’ll handle him,” Kirishima said. He took a step to the side, the tiniest shift in motion to put himself in the way of Bakugou and the villain. "You just deal with Fujiwara so we can get out of here."

Bakugou wiped a hand across his sweaty face. All this sweat was covering him and there was no way to release it. He flexed his fingers, half expecting a tiny explosion to pop against his skin as it normally would, but he was disappointed. Still, he thought that if he weighed his options carefully and didn’t get too hasty or arrogant with his fighting, then he could take the guy down.

No, he would take him down.

“I can’t let you deal with him,” he said. “I can’t let you deal with any of these people.”

“Bakugou, if you had any idea what they were doing –”

“It’s not relevant!” Bakugou yelled, trying to ignore the fact that Kirishima had called him by his family name instead of his given name. He hadn’t done that in a while. “I don’t care what they’re doing, because the fact is that you’re trespassing, and you are holding at least ten people hostage –”

“They’re starting to put Quirk marriage laws together, Bakugou. They’ve been drafting them for years, but now it’s starting to become reality. Your freedoms are going to be gone soon. You’re just a body with a good Quirk that they want to play with.”

Bakugou frowned, his gaze remaining on Kirishima’s face as he took in the information that had been thrown at him. It left a cold, uneasy feeling that settled deep in his stomach and raced through his veins. He clenched his fist, trying not to waver under Kirishima’s dark, serious gaze.

Of course he was anti-Quirk marriage. Of course he was anti- whatever they were doing with those kids. Everything the Commission stood for was wrong. But what the hell was he supposed to do? Drop everything and join whatever shitshow Kirishima was running? What would that accomplish?

"You know we have to fight," he said. "I can't stand around and let you do whatever you're planning."

Kirishima cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders, offering Bakugou a tiny, almost shy smile. "I was expecting that. Don't worry, I came prepared."

"Good. So did I." He smirked, and Kirishima looked at him with so much affection in his eyes that he almost forgot they were about to beat the shit out of each other. He almost forgot where they were, what was going on, that there was anyone else in the room with them.

He almost forgot Chameleon Man existed. Maybe that was his biggest mistake.

Even in a fighting stance with his feet planted firmly to keep himself standing, it was nearly impossible to hold Kirishima off. Without his Quirk, he could admit that Kirishima had the upper hand. He was bigger, stronger, and much less likely to break. But Bakugou was fast and agile, and even as Kirishima slammed his shoulder into Bakugou’s chest and knocked him into the metal shelves behind him, he was quick to get back up, putting all of his weight into pushing Kirishima away from him before landing a punch to his face.

He watched as the blood sprayed from Kirishima’s mouth, as Kirishima slowly, hesitantly reached to wipe it from his chin. Something burned in his eyes, something that warned Bakugou that he needed to move away from him, but he was frozen to the spot, adrenaline humming in his veins and the sheer thrill of the fight taking over all of his rationality.

"Damn it," Kirishima hissed, and Bakugou's heart stopped beating for a solid second before a slow smile spread across Kirishima’s lips. "Good one. That actually hurt."

Bakugou shrugged. "Maybe you should pay me back then."

Kirishima rushed him again, this time wrapping his arms around Bakugou’s waist and lifting him from the floor. Bakugou struggled against his grip, slamming his knee into Kirishima’s stomach with as much force as he could muster, but Kirishima barely even registered the hit, and suddenly Bakugou was being flipped onto his back, and his spine met the hard floor with a heavy crack that made the wind rush out of his lungs.

He should not be this aroused by getting his ass kicked, but damn it, it was the most amazing feeling he had ever experienced. Even lying on the ground and panting for breath, he felt like he was invincible.

"Is that it?" Bakugou asked, grimacing. "You're gonna have to do better than that."

Kirishima let out a heavy breath. Bakugou could tell from the look in his eyes that he was just as aroused as he was. This was all foreplay to them. After everything was said and done, they would be back at the apartment tearing each other apart until there was nothing left.

"You're gonna have to get up then," Kirishima said, stretching his arms above his head. "Unless you want me to come down there."

"And what the hell would you do down here?" Bakugou asked.

Kirishima sucked in a shaky breath and took a step forward, then stopped. Just a little outside of Bakugou’s range. He stared down at him like a fucking predator, sharp teeth gleaming white and dangerous through all the blood. Bakugou didn't take his eyes off of him. He felt almost dizzy with the rush, his blood pumping so quickly and loudly through his veins he could hardly think. The stale, dusty air was not enough to fill his aching lungs as he drew in quick breaths.

Kirishima took another step. Perfect. He kicked out, hooking his foot behind Kirishima’s leg and dragging him down to the ground as he pushed himself up and rolled out of the way of Kirishima’s retaliating hit. Kirishima had never been as fast as him, so he was able to push him onto his back with ease and settle on top of him. His hand closed over Kirishima’s throat, and he squeezed lightly, his thumb brushing softly against his hot, sweaty skin. He watched fear cross Kirishima’s features, and then his pupils grew steadily larger as his hands came up to rest on Bakugou’s arm.

"Had enough?" Bakugou asked, raising an eyebrow. He shifted against Kirishima’s lap and felt the hardness brush against his thigh. It was driving him insane not to feel some sort of friction between them, but he wasn't going to give in first. He refused to be that fucking pathetic.

Kirishima coughed as Bakugou’s fingers closed tighter around his throat. He wrapped a hand around Bakugou’s wrist as if he wanted to pull him off, but it was a weak attempt, and as he raised his head up off the ground, Bakugou slammed it back down, tightening his legs around Kirishima’s waist to hold him against the floor. Whatever sensation this was made him feel drunk with power, and as he leaned over Kirishima’s face and watched the red in his eyes get swallowed up by black, he couldn't help but feel relief in knowing that they were both equally fucked up, high on the fight and high on each other. His eyes darted down to Kirishima’s parted lips, lingering for only a moment before snapping up to his eyes. It was so easy to get caught up with each other, leaving the rest of the world behind. The rush of the water, the hum of the lights above him were just distant sounds, so far away they might have been in a different world entirely.

The sharp sound of a chair being scraped across the floor, however, forced him back to reality, and he looked up just in time to see Fujiwara toppling over, his bindings gone and the duct tape removed from his mouth as he screamed for help, his eyes wide and alarmed and tears flooding down his cheeks. There was already blood on his hands and his face as he scrambled across the floor, his nails digging into the hardwood floor to try to escape the man standing above him. He was weak, though, unable to pull himself forward, and his dark, wet eyes snapped to Bakugou, begging, pleading for his aid.

"That's right," Chameleon Man said, hefting his pipe over his shoulder as he laughed a deep, full-bodied laugh. "Crawl away, little rat. See how far you'll get from the mean, hungry cat."

"Please," Fujiwara pleaded with a weak cough, spraying blood across the floor. "Please don't let them kill me."

Heroes saved people. It didn't matter who they were or what they had done. If someone was in danger, they were supposed to help. Even if Fujiwara was drafting Quirk marriage laws, even if he had something to do with foster kid disappearances. It wasn't Bakugou’s right to be judge and jury. It was a hard lesson he had been forced to learn at U.A.

Apparently Kirishima had unlearned that very quickly.

"Stop!" Bakugou exclaimed, stumbling to his feet as he rushed across the room. By habit, he tried to ignite his hands, but the damn Shield stopped him, leaving a sort of ghost sensation dancing across his scarred skin. It felt like he was going fast, as fast as he could, but the world seemed to drag on forever, the room growing longer and larger with each heavy step, and there was someone calling his name, a far-off voice that sounded like it was underwater. God, everything was moving so slow, and as Chameleon Man lifted his eyes to meet Bakugou’s, his lips curled back into a sinister smile. He raised his pipe high above his head, twirling it with such grace and optimism that Bakugou knew if he didn't take him down right now he'd–

"Polter, don't!" Kirishima yelled, but the sound of metal on bone cracked through the air like a lightning strike, and Bakugou drew to a halt, the sound of it resonating deep down to his core as blood and bits of things he didn't care to think about splashed across the floor and onto his legs.

He had been so close. Right there. He could have stopped it. But –

Fujiwara's eyes were still set on him, his hand outstretched in a cry for help. One eye bulged, flooded with red as blood poured from the crevices. The other swiveled back and forth, seemingly unable to focus on anything as Chameleon Man brought the pipe down once more on the man's head. More brains and blood. The wet, sickening sound of it was enough to make anyone sick, and the smell – god, the smell. Bakugou sucked in a breath through his mouth, forcing the dizzying, nauseous feeling away as he finally closed the distance, his arm raised and ready to smash into Chameleon Man’s stupid, hideous, smug, disgusting face –

"Bakugou!" Asui yelled from somewhere above, and suddenly there were footsteps coming down the stairs. There must have been three, maybe four people coming.

Chameleon Man grabbed his fist and twisted his arm until he felt the muscles in his shoulder cry out in protest. A fleeting thought raced through his mind that the villain was far stronger than him, and without his Quirk, he could probably very easily get his arm ripped off. But that didn’t mean he was going to give up. When had he ever given up, even if he was facing down every trial, every obstacle, every adversity?

He had to use this position to his advantage. His arm was compromised, and he was in pain, so much pain, but he still had his legs and his brain and his rage –

He lifted his foot to stomp on Chameleon Man’s toes, but he wasn’t fast enough to do anything. The man twisted his arm further behind his back as he pushed him to his knees. Bakugou felt something crack, and pain exploded inside of him, blurring the edges of his vision with darkness. This should have been easy, he shouldn’t be on the ground being held down by an asshole villain with a dead man lying close to him and Kirishima not doing anything.

Chameleon Man chuckled, a low, throaty noise that made a chill race down Bakugou’s spine. He was standing so close that Bakugou could feel his breath beating against his skin. His long, reptilian tongue flicked out and grazed over Bakugou’s neck as he leaned in further, the cool steel of the pipe pressed against his back.

“Not as strong as I thought you were,” Chameleon Man whispered. “It would be so, so easy to make you my little pet. And why stop there when there are so many sweet, vulnerable heroes to choose from?”

Bakugou hissed under his breath and slung his free arm back, hearing a satisfying crack as his shoulder met Chameleon Man’s nose. “Fuck you,” he said.

He had barely even exerted any energy, but it felt like his lungs were going to burst. Finally, finally he felt the hold on him loosen, and he collapsed onto all fours, his left arm wobbling out from underneath him. Nothing was broken, he was sure, but he had definitely pulled some muscles and bruised some bones.

What was most concerning though, was the corpse lying directly in front of him with its skull bashed in. The corpse of a man who had been asking for help, and Bakugou hadn’t been fast enough.

“Stay away from him! Don’t touch him! Bakugou!” He looked up as Kirishima slid in next to him, his arms encircling him as one hand cupped his cheek and turned his head to face him. “Hey, are you okay?”

Bakugou let out a strained breath, his eyes scanning Kirishima’s face. There was an acidic taste in his mouth, the telltale sign of bile rising in his throat. Kirishima was afraid, his eyes round and wide like a rabbit being hunted down by a wolf. As if he was somehow the victim here, as if he was somehow being threatened.

“I don’t need you to fucking defend me!” Bakugou yelled, pushing Kirishima away. “I can take care of myself. Starting with this asshole over here. I’m gonna fucking murder him –”

“Bakugou, I swear that this wasn’t the plan,” he said, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. “I never wanted anyone to die. I just wanted to…” He trailed off, his voice wavering.

“Wanted to what?” Bakugou growled, pushing him backward hard enough to make him land on his ass. He stared up at Bakugou, unblinking, obviously terrified out of his mind, but the rage and the fire and the loathing was just too much to control. “Answer me, damn it! What the fuck could you have possibly thought would happen?”

“Bakugou!” Asui’s voice again, closer this time. What the hell was taking them so long?

“I don’t know, okay? I have a bunch of half-formed plans that aren’t entirely thought out, and I just…god, Katsuki, you have to believe me. You know I wouldn’t kill anyone on purpose. But Taiyo…”

Right. Taiyo. Somehow, Fujiwara was connected to Taiyo’s disappearance, if everything Kirishima was saying was true. And there were other kids missing too.

Bakugou stumbled to his feet on shaky legs and stared down at Kirishima, sitting perfectly still on the floor and gazing up at him with wet, bleary eyes. They were the only two in the room now; Chameleon Man had made a run for it.

Hesitantly, he reached a hand out to Kirishima, and even more hesitantly, Kirishima took it and let Bakugou pull him to his feet. They stood in silence for what felt like an hour before Bakugou finally said, “Get out of here.”

Kirishima shifted uncomfortably. His fingers brushed over Bakugou’s just briefly, the ghost of a touch. He didn’t look like a villain. He looked small, frail, withdrawn, how Bakugou imagined he had been before they ever met.

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Kirishima said, his voice barely above a whisper, “but I don’t think we’re going to make it out of this without any casualties.”

Casualties had never been an issue for him. He’d seen dead bodies in catastrophes. He had been watching the news since he was a toddler, watching videos of heroes emerging victorious amidst all sorts of crises that left people dead or wounded. He’d seen it in school. He’d seen it working at his own agency. And somewhere deep down inside, he’d accepted that life for himself and for his fellow pro heroes would more than likely be cut short.

But it was starting to feel too close, too personal. And he had never actually been confronted by the fear of his own death.

“Just get out of here so you won’t be one of them,” he said.

Kirishima’s hands closed around his arms, squeezing him tightly as he looked into his eyes with the same desperate sort of need that Fujiwara had just seconds before his death. Someone crying out for help, for understanding. And Bakugou felt cold. So cold.

“I’m sorry,” Kirishima said. “I’m terrified, and I know this probably isn’t gonna work out for me, but Katsuki, they have to go. The Commission has to be taken down. They’re what’s killing our friends. Not the Red Fury or any other group of villains roaming the streets. The Commission. You know that, right?”

Bakugou nodded, numb, unable to force himself to speak. He leaned forward and pressed a brief kiss to Kirishima’s lips, barely thinking, barely feeling. He felt like his body didn’t even belong to him anymore. “I’ll see you tonight. If it’s safe.”

“If it’s safe,” Kirishima agreed, kissing the palm of Bakugou’s hand, still fizzling with pent-up power that could not be released. “I…love you.”

Kirishima was gone, disappearing into god knows where before Bakugou could properly process the fact that Kirishima had just told him he loved him for the first time in over two years. Someone who had loved so freely before felt like he had to keep his mouth shut about his feelings. And now, it was out in the open again.

And he was gone.

"Hey," Asui said as she drew to a stop beside him, drawing in a few short breaths. She looked ruffled, her hair falling out of its sleek ponytail and the sleeve of her dress ripped and sliding down her arm. "Shindou and I were able to get all the hostages out. There were two Red Fury guys upstairs that we took down, and we managed to get that girl that put us all to sleep at the engagement party." She sighed heavily and glanced over at him, a question forming on her lips, but she pursed them together again when she noticed the dead body lying behind him. Her eyes widened. "Ohhh. Oh, god. Bakugou, did he…?"

Bakugou looked at her, blinking slowly. He didn't even have to pretend to be dazed and not knowing what was going on because the last five minutes felt like a blur.

"No," he replied, but it felt like someone else was speaking, someone too far for him to reach. "No, it was the Chameleon Guy. I…got knocked out somehow. I'm–"

"You should see a doctor and make sure you don't have a concussion." She smiled weakly at him, her eyes falling to the corpse again as they filled with tears. "It's so sad. I can't believe they're attacking innocent people. What did this man do to deserve to die like this?"

Bakugou didn't answer.

He and Kirishima did not talk much that night. They sat up for a while and drank tea in silence while Mango jumped in front of them meowing for attention they were both too tired to give.

Bakugou took three sleeping pills, but still Kirishima fell asleep before he did. He twitched and tossed and turned a lot in his sleep as Bakugou stared down at his phone screen for what felt like hours at All Might's picture and his number. Finally, he forced himself to press the call button, in desperate need of guidance from someone who might understand.

The phone rang once, twice, three times.

He ended the call.

Chapter Text

Best friends. Former classmates. Partners. Roommates. Sidekick. Good friends. Colleagues.

All ways of describing his and Kirishima's relationship before Kirishima disappeared. Bakugou woke early the next morning, unable to sleep, and scrolled endlessly through old articles about their fights and triumphs. He thought it would be too hard looking at new articles coming out since yesterday. Immediately after opening the news app, he was greeted by a picture of Kirishima going Unbreakable, which made him look absolutely terrifying if no one knew him. It was fear-mongering at its finest. As if he hadn't used that same ability to save people's asses in the past. And now, they were using it to make him look like a monster when frankly, he had been taking it really easy on everyone.

He thought it might make him feel better to relive some of their old fights, but the more he stared at the words, the more it made his stomach turn.

Not once did they refer to Bakugou as Kirishima’s boyfriend. They used every other term in the book, but god forbid two male heroes were dating.

He got up to make coffee with Mango padding along behind him as Kirishima slept on. He'd been mumbling in his sleep all night, and even being perfectly sedated, Bakugou couldn't sleep through it. He was exhausted. He thought after he'd seen the first body that the trauma he was facing was too difficult to bear. He never imagined what Kirishima was going through, and with the way things were between them now, he wasn't sure he should ask. They had not been so great at communicating.

He made a cup of coffee for himself (lots of sugar and extra creamer) and one for Kirishima for when he woke up (even more sugar and creamer). Normally the smell would be enough to wake him up, but his muscles were stiff, and he just kept hearing Kirishima making incoherent noises in his head. Not to mention that he had completely chickened out calling All Might. It shouldn't have been a big deal, but shit, what was he supposed to say? My ex-boyfriend is a villain and the Commission is out to get him but I really think he might be right, and does that make me a villain too or just an idiot?

If there was one thing that they had been taught in the beginning, it was to trust the Commission. Not that Bakugou ever did, not completely. But things were growing worse.

He set Kirishima’s coffee down on the nightstand next to him and crawled back into bed, studying the still figure lying next to him. This was the most peaceful Kirishima had been all night. He wasn’t twitching or muttering or tossing and turning. He slept hard, both arms underneath the pillow and his dark hair falling over his face, fluttering around with each soft breath that fell from his lips. His mouth hung open just slightly, and there was a little bit of drool on his chin. A few cuts criss-crossed over his shoulder and his neck, still raw and pink and angry. They looked far too fresh to be from yesterday.

Sighing, he took a sip of his coffee and set it aside, rolling onto his side to face Kirishima. He didn’t want to disturb him. Who knew how long it had been since he’d had any proper rest? Not that Bakugou was doing much better with that. Slowly, he reached across the small space between them and let his fingers rest against Kirishima’s cheek. His skin was soft except for the big scar that had been left close to his mouth, and incredibly warm. He scooted just a tiny bit closer and slowly pushed hair out of his eyes, smiling to himself as he noticed Kirishima’s breath catch.

He should have been upset about yesterday, angry even, but he couldn’t even find the strength in him to do that when Kirishima was so clearly suffering more than he was. He had always been tough and strong and tried his hardest to put on a smile when everyone else was down, but obviously he was carrying a weight that was far too much for him to bear on his own. And as many times as he had taken the weight from Bakugou…

He couldn’t help himself. He’d be damned if anyone ever heard him call someone cute – even Eijirou – but damn it, he was cute. And behind all that cuteness there was suffering, and he couldn’t take it all away. He pressed his lips to Kirishima’s briefly, lingering only for a second as he felt Kirishima’s lower lip quiver against him, then rolled away and grabbed his coffee and his phone. He had a shift soon, but he didn’t plan on leaving until he knew that Kirishima was okay, and the Commission could get fucked. He did what he wanted to anyway.

Those days, he thought, might be coming to an end. And fast.

“Good morning.”

He glanced over at Kirishima, peering up at him through half-open eyes and dark hair that had fallen back into his face. His mouth turned up into a sleepy, lopsided smile as he reached across the bed and let his fingers drift down Bakugou’s chest all the way down to his hip.

He looked happy. He looked fine. But Bakugou knew better, the same way he should have known all along. “Did you sleep okay?”

Kirishima hesitated for half a second, then made a huge show of yawning and flipping onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. Anything to keep him from looking Bakugou in the eyes. “Yeah, man! I’m great! Never better. I slept like a baby. What about you?”

Bakugou wrinkled his nose and tossed his phone to the side. Suddenly his coffee tasted very bitter. Of course, it sounded like Kirishima before the Commission screwed him over and he disappeared, but it had been so long since Bakugou had heard him speak that way that it was questionable. He couldn’t just bounce back to his old self overnight.

“I slept okay. You kicked me a lot. And you were mumbling a lot of stuff.”

“Oh, shit! I’m sorry! You could have woken me up and told me. I don’t wanna bother you.” He got up and kissed Bakugou briefly on the cheek before flipping over and grabbing the coffee cup sitting on the nightstand next to Mango. “Thanks for making coffee! And you made it just the way I like it.”

“Uh-huh.” Bakugou eyed him warily as he raised the cup to his lips and took a long sip. He was practically vibrating with nervous energy. And the scratches on his skin were, to say the least, very concerning. He wouldn’t press too hard on the subject, though. If Kirishima wanted to offer him any sort of information, he would. He hoped, anyway. Kirishima used to talk endlessly to him about nothing and everything for hours, and now, he could barely get anything out of him. He never thought he’d actually miss someone talking to him.

“Did they ever…” He paused, glancing over at Kirishima before continuing. His eyes were wide, and Bakugou could tell that he was tense, holding his breath. But this particular image wouldn’t leave his mind. Not after seeing Shindou yesterday. Not after failing to talk to All Might, to get some sort of insight. Why did this of all things bother him? Clearing his throat, he went on. “Did they ever try to make you one of their Commission whores?”

“What?” Kirishima sat up straighter, his eyes wide as he leaned into Bakugou. “What are you talking about?”

Shindou. Icy Hot. That Camie girl. He had started putting all of the pieces together after yesterday, puzzling over it while Kirishima fell into a restless sleep next to him. The bracelets, the love hotel, the secrecy, the shame. There was only one explanation for it, and it made his stomach turn to think about it, about how many of their former classmates and other pro heroes were wearing those bracelets like the rich and elite owned them, like they were some kind of prize to be won.

“I think…that’s what the bracelets are,” he said, and while he had been certain about it overnight, it felt a little silly to say out loud. Would these people really expect their heroes to participate in sexual favors for donors or prominent figures in society who wanted to keep their transgressions behind closed doors? Would they actually stoop to that level?

They had made up a fake baby, after all. They had drugged Kirishima’s mom and possibly him, they’d taken kids from the foster care system, they’d lied and cheated and stolen and made sure that everyone’s life looked perfect on the outside while they were crumbling on the inside. What was one more step toward the fiery pits of hell to them?

“I saw Shindou – you know, that vibration guy – on the yacht yesterday. I walked in on him and some middle-aged lady fucking, and she just…she seemed so pleased with herself. And he was so ashamed. He was wearing the same bracelet Todoroki has. The one he won’t tell me about, you know, with the different colored beads.”

Kirishima didn’t respond for a long time, and as the seconds ticked by, Bakugou’s heart began beating faster and faster, and sweat beaded at his temple and dripped down his face. He couldn’t even look at Kirishima, afraid of the answers that he would find so blatantly written on his face. He couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else having Kirishima, not even for a second. But worse, he couldn’t bear the thought of Kirishima being forced against his will to become a toy for rich people to play with when they were bored.

Finally, after what felt like the whole morning passed by, Kirishima said, “I had no idea they were doing that. I’m sorry. Shit. That’s messed up. So no, they never asked me to do anything like that. I’m sure they just take the ones that are requested the most.”

“Yeah, but how do they force them to do all this shit? Why is no one speaking up? Why is nothing being done?”

Kirishima sighed and leaned his head against Bakugou’s shoulder. “We’re not the ones with the power. We never were.”

"They have to have something on them, right? I mean, I can't see Icy Hot doing this shit for any other reason. It's probably not even something about him. It's probably his family. But what the fuck else can be exposed about his family? Everyone knows everything already." He sighed, taking another sip of his coffee. It didn't taste good at all anymore. "Are you having nightmares?"

Kirishima glanced up at him, frowning, and shook his head. "No. I'm fine. Why?"

"It's just…I'm still kind of fucked up from yesterday, and I know it couldn't have been easy on you." He held his hand out, and Kirishima took it, intertwining their fingers together lightly. "There's something about a guy's brains being blown out that really sticks with you."

Kirishima snuggled up closer to him and traced his fingers over the back of Bakugou’s hand. "I haven't seen Polter since. He didn't come back. I feel like he's planning something. I don't trust him."

"You shouldn't worry about it. If he comes after you, you could kick his ass easily. And then I'll drop by and kick his ass even more."

"Aww, thanks. That makes me feel so safe." He leaned up and pressed a kiss to Bakugou's jaw, then to his neck.

Bakugou tensed underneath his touch, unable to breathe for half a second as Kirishima’s lips traced over his jaw and his cheek, slowly making his way down to his mouth. Kirishima shifted just slightly so that he was halfway on top of Bakugou, his hands settling on his hips and pressing him to the mattress. Bakugou closed his eyes and let out a breath as Kirishima’s lips met his, and he kept his mouth firmly closed, unable to make himself reciprocate anything today.

"Can we not?" he asked, pushing Kirishima away before he had the chance to hurt his feelings any more. "I don't feel like doing anything right now."

"Oh, yeah! For sure." Kirishima smiled and placed a final kiss to his forehead. "Sorry. I should have asked."

"It's okay. I'm just kind of out of it, you know?"

Kirishima snuggled up closer to him, wrapping his arms around his hips and resting his head against his chest. "You don't have to explain yourself, Kats. I'll never push you to do anything you don't want."

Bakugou fidgeted uncomfortably. "I know that. You've been ridiculously understanding ever since we were teenagers. So ridiculously understanding it pisses me off sometimes. Why the hell are you so nice?"

"Why am I nice about you not wanting sex?" Kirishima asked, a touch of confusion in his voice. "Because it's really disgusting to force sex on anyone, and you don't owe me anything just because we're in a relationship. No means no, and not understanding that is probably the least manly thing in the world. That's why I wanted to kill Mineta all the time. And Monoma. Shit, he wouldn't leave Shinsou alone no matter how many times he pushed him away."

Bakugou snorted. "I wish you would have killed both of them. Now they're out here annoying the rest of the world."

Then it struck him that Kirishima had said they were in a relationship. It hit him very suddenly, like someone punching him in the throat and cutting off all of the air from getting into his body. It was painful, and it was terrifying, and for just a second every alarm system in his body blared, Get away. Run! like every other time anyone had gotten too close to him. Kirishima was far too close. He wasn't ready.

And yet…

"Are you…are you thinking about moving back in?" he asked, his voice wavering a little.

He felt Kirishima’s arms tighten around him, and he held his breath, afraid of him saying no and afraid of him saying yes. There was no good way for this to go.

"I…I don't know. I mean, I thought eventually, if things kept going like they were. But I was honestly waiting on you –"

"If you wanna bring some spare clothes and maybe some bathroom stuff, I…I don't think that would be so bad. I mean, I don’t know your living situation now, but –”

“This is a huge upgrade,” Kirishima said with a dry laugh. “I just…I mean, are you sure? It might make things a little bit easier. And it would get us just a little closer to normal.”

Bakugou ran a hand over his face and sighed. The entirety of yesterday and last night had left him completely exhausted. He reached around Kirishima and grabbed his cup of coffee, taking a long sip but not tasting anything. “I wouldn’t mind getting closer to normal.”

“This is all gonna be over soon, I swear.” Kirishima turned his head and left a tiny kiss on his chest. “And we’ll be safe, and all of our friends will be safe, and everything will change. It has to.”

It would have been so easy to fall asleep like this, Kirishima wrapped tightly around him, the blankets warm and the pillows cool. He could feel Kirishima’s pulse underneath his fingers as he held him, could feel the warmth of his breath against his cold, sensitive skin as their legs tangled together and they got lost in each other. All the nights they’d snuck into each other’s dorms, all the nights they’d spent in each other’s beds, all of it supposed to be leading up to a perfect life with both of them sharing a bed in a high-end apartment and sharing the title of a pro hero. He wondered what would happen if he could go back in time and try to tell his teenage self what would become of him, if he would even listen or if he would be too arrogant to think the world could affect him.

He closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep for at least a little while before he had to go to his shift, but images kept flashing through his mind, images from old articles he had been torturing himself with all morning. Best friends. Former classmates. Partners. Roommates. Sidekick. Good friends. Colleagues.

It was as if Kirishima had heard his thoughts. He drew circles over Bakugou’s ribs as he cuddled him, letting out a sad, heavy sigh. “Sometimes it was hard growing up with two moms. I couldn’t understand why all of the women in our apartment building said all the mean things they did or why people looked at us funny when we went to the store or to the park. I overheard some of the ladies talking one day, and they said that it was a shame because I was gonna end up just like them. I didn’t really know what that meant either. Until I got older and I realized that I didn’t like girls the way that I was supposed to, and I thought I had somehow messed up and I would make things harder for my moms because all of the things people were saying would be true, and they would blame my moms for it. And it wasn’t their fault. But they wanted me to be who I was, no matter what.”

Bakugou frowned and curled an arm around Kirishima’s back, drawing him closer. He had heard all of this before. He wasn’t sure why it was coming up again now. “There’s nothing they could be at fault for. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“Me neither. Just ranting, I guess. Once I was out, I mean…I just wanted to be myself, despite what everyone else was saying. And everyone in our class was so supportive. You were the most supportive of all.”

“Probably because I liked you, dumbass.”

Kirishima snorted, but there was no humor in his voice. “It just kind of sucks to have all of that taken away because I didn’t fit what they wanted. They have to dictate everything, and like…how do Mr. Aizawa and Present Mic do it, you know? How does anyone do it? How is Yaomomo just okay with being forced into a relationship when she’s not in love with him?”

“I don’t think she’s okay.” He twirled a strand of dark hair around his finger and kissed the top of Kirishima’s head. He felt oddly at peace, despite the disturbing and depressing conversation. If they could get back to playing video games in bed and having stupid arguments about whether All Might or Crimson Riot was the better hero, then things would be infinitely better. If they could just rewind time and make sure the last two years didn’t happen, that none of this happened the way it did, then everything would be okay.

“I have a shift to get to soon,” Bakugou said reluctantly. “And I have an appointment with the psychiatrist they assigned to me. But until then, what can we do to start getting things back to normal?”

“Well,” Kirishima said, “you can go take a shower, and I can try to make breakfast with the few groceries in the kitchen and fail miserably, and you can yell at me and tell me how bad of a cook I am while you fix everything and make the most amazing breakfast ever.”

“Yeah, that sounds pretty normal. Okay, let’s do it. Don’t forget the obnoxiously loud music you always played.”

“Sure. And I’ll be sure to burn at least one thing and sneak some treats to Mango.” He smiled, and for a moment everything seemed like they were on the right track, but Bakugou couldn’t return the feeling. Not yet. There was something nagging at him, something he didn’t fully comprehend. It was like an odd premonition or some sort of foreshadowing, knowing that something bad was coming, and fast.

As predicted, Kirishima did burn something in the kitchen. As Bakugou got out of the shower, the smell of smoke greeted him in a warm, familiar way that might have made him panic under different circumstances, but now it just felt right. Glancing at the mirror, he saw that Kirishima had also left him a note written in the steam like he used to do: I love you! Have a great day! with a little heart drawn at the end.

His heart fluttered. He hated it. Even now after being with Kirishima since they were fifteen, it pissed him off that romantic gestures made him feel things. People let this shit dictate their entire lives.

He pulled on his clothes and ran into the kitchen where smoke billowed out in thick gray clouds, so thick it obscured Kirishima coughing somewhere in the middle of it and Mango meowing in discomfort.

"For fuck’s sake, what the hell did you burn?" Bakugou asked, coughing and waving away some of the smoke. It was dissipating quickly, but the smell of it still hung heavily throughout the entire apartment.

"Well, for starters, everyone is okay," Kirishima replied. "Mango got a little too close to the pan, and then I burned myself trying to keep her away, and now we have a very burned omelet." He tossed a plate down on the counter with a very crispy looking lump of egg on it and sighed. "Some of us just can't be master chefs like you, Katsuki. You're good at everything."

"Maybe not everything," Bakugou said, scraping the burned omelet into the trash. "But I can damn well cook an omelet."

Kirishima rolled his eyes and pushed a second plate toward him. "Whatever. I ran out of eggs, but this one looks okay, so you can have it."

"It's fine. I'm not really hungry anyway." He grabbed a piece of toast as it popped out of the toaster and took a bite out of the corner, then rinsed his dirty plate. "Maybe we can go grocery shopping later when –"

He stopped himself as he opened the dishwasher to put his plate in. How stupid of him to fall into playing house so easily again, as if the last two years hadn't even happened. How fucking pathetic.

He looked up at Kirishima and held his gaze for a long moment before Kirishima broke the silence.

"We can put a list together, and you can go to the store sometime when you're free. I've got some money –"

"You don't have to pay me for food. I can afford it by myself." He caught himself before he added, I'm sure you can't afford much right now anyway. That probably would have ended with a fight.

"Fine." Kirishima leaned onto the counter and pushed the omelet toward Bakugou again. "Your phone went off while you were in the shower. I just glanced, but it was a text from Inoue. You might wanna get back to him. He can be…"

"A complete asshole? Yeah. Shit, I should just ignore him and do what I want. Why does it even matter?"

"I think he wanted to schedule an interview today. About what happened yesterday. You should probably do it."

Bakugou shoveled some of the omelet into his mouth and winced at the taste. He should have known it wouldn't be good considering he didn't have any food in the apartment, but this was deadly. He decided he wouldn't say anything about it.

"And what if I don't want to do an interview? I'm sick of people being in my business."

"I think it would be a good idea to do it. If you want them to still trust you."

Bakugou rolled his eyes and pushed the plate away as he grabbed his phone. Sure enough, he had several messages and missed calls from Inoue, along with a couple from Tsu and some notifications from news sites about Kirishima and Uraraka. All of it blatant, horrendous lies.

Kirishima stood close to him as he touched the screen to return Inoue’s call, picking at the omelet he’d made and pretending he wasn’t trying to listen in. Bakugou kept glancing over at him as the phone rang, and Kirishima would look away really quickly and try to focus on something else in the room.

After six rings, Bakugou considered hanging up, but on the seventh, Inoue picked up with a disgruntled, “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday. Do you really think you can just do whatever you want to do and get away with it?”

“I’ve lived that way my entire life. Why stop now?”

Inoue sighed. Bakugou could picture him sitting there with his eyes closed, fingers pressed to his temple as he tried to calm himself down. Why was he even still letting this guy do PR for him? He could fire him. He at least had that much power, right?

“I called to inform you that Hero Chat wanted to speak with you and Froppy today. I’ve scheduled the interview for this afternoon at three, so if you could please finish up your shift and get down to the studio in time to get dressed and camera ready, that would be amazing. I don’t think I’m asking too much of you.”

“I have a meeting with my therapist this afternoon.”

“Reschedule. This is more important. Your numbers are slipping, Bakugou. You’ve lost too many fights with the Red Fury. People are starting to doubt you.”

It felt like a heavy stone had settled in Bakugou’s chest. He glanced at Kirishima again, who was already watching him with deep concern. He frowned, reaching out to take Bakugou’s hand, but Bakugou turned away, clearing his throat and hoping his voice didn’t come out as weak as he felt.

“What do you mean that people are starting to doubt me?” he asked. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Are you? Because I saw better performance from you when you were still training in school than what you’re doing now. I don’t blame the public for growing wary. One might think you were…up to something.”

“What the fuck would I be up to? I don’t fucking go anywhere. I don’t do anything. I work my ass off for this stupid fucking city and –”

“Maybe it’s that poor attitude of yours, I don’t know. Perhaps if you learned to fake a smile and carry a conversation like a normal person, then you could be where Deku is.”

“Deku cries about every fucking thing. People just feel sorry for him.”

“Sure. If that’s what you want to believe. Be at the studio at two. Don’t disappoint me.”

Bakugou swallowed hard and turned back to Kirishima. He had been pacing the floor, he realized, and Kirishima was trailing right behind him, like he always had before. Always there for him when he was going to fall. He reached out for Bakugou again, and this time, Bakugou let him take him in his arms and hold him close. It helped with the trembling. He wasn’t sure if it was from nerves or rage.

“What about Shindou? He was there too.”

“Shindou has other business to attend to. Two o’clock. Don’t be late.”

Inoue hung up before Bakugou could even come up with one more smartass remark. God, he wanted to scream. He wanted to hurl his phone across the room and set the entire building on fire. He felt Kirishima’s lips graze his forehead, but he was too angry to give a shit at the moment. He turned away, stalking across the apartment with fury burning in his veins as he pulled up the pro hero chart to look at the numbers. They were updated almost instantaneously all day every day. He used to obsess over it, but he had stopped caring as much after Kirishima left. Now…

“Fucking shit.” He threw his phone onto the couch and shot an explosion at the lamp, bursting it into a million tiny pieces that rained down on the floor.

“What? What is it?” Kirishima asked, rushing to his side as his breathing picked up and he glared at the wall of All Might posters before him. All of them smiling and happy and proud of something. Like they were mocking him. He wanted to rip them all down, to never look at his stupid face again.

He didn’t answer, so Kirishima picked up the phone and looked at what had made him so angry. There was a long moment of silence before he looked up at Bakugou with a frown. Like he felt sorry for him. As if he had any right –

No. He wasn’t angry at Kirishima. Not anymore.

“Iida’s catching up to you,” Kirishima said, as if that wasn’t fucking obvious.

“The fucking class rep,” Bakugou hissed under his breath. His lungs ached with the effort of speaking, and suddenly it felt like the apartment was tilting and he couldn’t stand up. He doubled over, gasping in breath after heavy breath as Kirishima rushed to him again, falling to his knees before him and holding his face in his hands as he whispered sweet affirmations to him. But none of it made it any better. Iida Tenya. Fucking Four Eyes. The guy who’d almost murdered a guy at fifteen and still got to be in charge of their class. With his snobby, arrogant behavior and his stupid superiority complex, looking down on the world like they were all beneath him, as if he was the only one who could be right, who had any sort of morals.

And now he was creeping into the number four position almost overnight.

“Fuck,” Bakugou whispered as his stomach knotted painfully, and before he could stop himself he was running back to the bathroom, Kirishima right behind him, calling out his name. He sounded terrified, but Bakugou couldn’t think much about it as he collapsed in front of the toilet and let out the tiny bit of food that was in his stomach. It stung, and even though he knew there was nothing left, he just kept heaving and heaving until his throat felt raw and the air cut through his lungs like sawdust.

He was crying, he realized. Big, fat, stupid tears burning in his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. And he was ashamed. This was such an overreaction, he knew, and yet he couldn’t stop the rage blazing through him, the desire to harm something, to destroy. He had fought and clawed his way up the ranks only to settle at number four, and now that was steadily sliding away too. What was all the fighting for if he was just going to fail?

“Hey, it’s okay,” Kirishima whispered, rubbing soothing circles over Bakugou’s back. “It’s close, but you’ll pull through. You always do.”

“Not if I keep letting you get away,” Bakugou said, wiping at his wet chin. Nausea rolled over him again, and his body shook, but nothing came out. Everything felt so hot. The whole world looked red.

“So what? You wanna take me in?” Kirishima asked. “So you can keep number four? Katsuki –”

“I know! I know, damn it. Just…can you leave me alone for just a minute?”

He felt the hesitation, the way Kirishima’s fingers settled on his skin, still, unsure. He looked back at him – his ex, his boyfriend, his best friend, his whatever, he didn’t even know anymore. And he looked so sad, like maybe he was actually considering turning himself in. Because of course he fucking would. He would do anything if it meant Bakugou was happy. As long as Bakugou got what he wanted, it didn’t matter if it hurt him in the process.

“Of course I don’t want you to turn yourself in,” Bakugou said with a sigh. “I’m just mad right now. I’ll deal with it and move on.”

Kirishima shrugged. “Being a hero isn’t just about saving the world.”

Bakugou snorted and rolled his eyes. “How stupid of me to think that it was.”

Kirishima gave him a strained smile and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, then left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Bakugou wasn’t sure how long he sat in the floor, staring at the wall and feeling sorry for himself. He could hear Kirishima in the kitchen making something else, the soft sound of some rock music playing alongside the clattering of pans and dishes and something crackling on the stove. It must have been about ten minutes, but it felt like hours. He finally got to his feet and stumbled to the sink to brush his teeth again, but the image of himself in the mirror stopped him.

God, he was a mess. He would have to get to the studio earlier than two if they wanted to make him look like a halfway decent person. Even though he had been eating and sleeping better recently, he still looked like a skeleton, a ghost of his former self. There were shadows under his eyes, and his cheeks looked hollow. His eyes didn’t burn with the same intensity as they used to. His hair was growing shaggy and falling in his face. He hadn’t even bothered trying to style it recently. Not to mention all of the bruises and cuts and scars. He thought they looked pretty cool, but the public liked their heroes to look like they had just come straight off the runway at a fashion show. Bruises and cuts wouldn’t do. He was sure someone would try to cover all that up today.

How the fuck was he supposed to make it through his shift like this? And knowing that he had to go to a studio and pretend that these people were hilarious and laugh at all their little jokes and pretend that he was an approachable person when he damn well knew he wasn’t.

Maybe this interview would help. Maybe if he made up some bullshit story about what happened in the belly of the yacht with Fujiwara and Kirishima and Chameleon Man, then he could restore the public’s faith in him. He could smile and lie and make them believe he was so, so close to bringing the Red Fury down. Surely it wouldn’t be that hard.

His nerves were completely fried. How the hell had he managed to look at the world with so much confidence as a teenager? How had he thought he was so invincible?

He swiped at the final tears running down his cheeks and opened the medicine cabinet with shaky hands. Two pills would be fine. Just enough to calm his nerves, no more. And what Kirishima didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Chapter Text

"You're gonna have to lose that suit."

"What the fuck are you talking about? This is my suit. It's my only suit."

The stylist lady (whose name Bakugou had not bothered to ask) stood in front of him with an angry expression on her face, tapping her chin with her comb as she examined him. "You'd think someone trying to be the number one hero would care a little about looking nice," she said. "Look at this! It's so worn and faded. Luckily, I've got one I think you can fit into for today. And next time, maybe invest in some new clothes. Try to keep up with the trends. It'll help the public opinion of you, I promise."

She disappeared into a different dressing room area before Bakugou could protest too much. Why the fuck did anyone need more than one suit anyway? It wasn't as if he spent all of his extra time attending parties and meeting new people.

And besides, this was the suit Kirishima and his moms had picked out for him for the graduation party. Mitsuki had never been interested in any of that stuff.

With an angry sigh, he stomped out into the sitting area, where a couple of interns were seated on a couch drinking coffee and scrolling on their phones. He sat in the chair furthest away from them and waited, with nothing but the sound of the ticking clock to keep him company. Each tick of the second hand felt like another needle driving into his skull. He was still on edge, wanting desperately to get all of this over with so he could just go home. Maybe he should have taken another pill or two. Just for good measure. Just so he could get through this.

One of the interns glanced up at him then back to his phone, then looked up at him again as if he just now recognized him. The intern smiled and held up his coffee mug in a sort of toast. "Hey, congrats to you and Froppy, man. I'm so jealous. She's so hot."

Bakugou wrinkled his nose in disgust and sank down lower in his seat. "I don't think that really matters when she's one of the best damn rescue heroes we have. How about acknowledging that instead? She rescued all the hostages from that yacht yesterday almost all by herself."

The intern shrugged. "That's impressive too, my guy. I'm just saying, you're super lucky."

"Thanks, I guess," he said with a roll of his eyes. "She's always nice to work with."

"God, I would kill to know what it felt like to –"

"Ready, kiddo?" the stylist asked, rounding the corner with one of the most hideous suits Bakugou had ever seen. She held it up with a smile and gestured back to the dressing room. "Let's get you looking pretty for the cameras. You look like the walking dead right now."

"I'm not fucking putting that on."

"Like hell you aren't. Get in there and get changed so I can do something about that face of yours. I'm sure you're real handsome somewhere underneath all that."

Bakugou gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to say any of the horrible things running through his mind. It was just one interview. He could get through this. He could.

He had to. Otherwise Iida was taking his spot, and he had fought too damn hard to lose to that fucking nerd.

"Fine. Let's get this over with."

Forty-five minutes later and he was seated in front of the mirror looking like an absolute clown. The woman had styled his hair in a way similar to what Best Jeanist used to do to him, which was nearly torturous, and he was right about the makeup: they would do just about anything to cover up any ugly bruises and scars they didn't like. Not to mention the suit. Who the hell would have paid for this? Why did it exist? He looked like a fucking leprechaun.

"Bright colors are in right now," the stylist said, placing her hands on his shoulders and staring into the mirror to admire her work. "You can't expect to catch anyone's eye wearing boring old black all the time. Stop being so afraid to step out of your comfort zone. The flashier, the better."

"What if I just want to be recognized for my hero achievements?"

The stylist shrugged. "That's not how the world works, kid. Get used to it. Things have never been as simple as black and white."

Bakugou stared at his reflection in the mirror, his stomach flipping uncomfortably. His medicine was supposed to help calm his nerves, but all it did was accelerate his heartbeat and put him more on edge. He felt like setting the entire studio on fire.

"I used to think all the bullshit was worth it to be a hero," he said, almost to himself. "Now I'm not so sure."

The stylist grinned and patted him on the cheek. "Chin up, kiddo. You got an interview to get to. I think your manager wanted a word with you once I was done."

Bakugou rolled his eyes and slumped in his seat, still staring at the stranger in the mirror. "Fine. Send him in."

She left without a word, and a few minutes later, Inoue walked in, his nose buried in his phone as he typed vigorously. It wasn't until Bakugou cleared his throat very loudly and rudely that he looked up to acknowledge him.

He smiled, smug and entirely too pleased. As if this was prime entertainment for him. "Don't you look nice."

"Tch. I look like an asshole."

"Good. Finally something that matches your personality."

Bakugou glared at him from the corner of his eye but didn't turn to face him as he sat in the seat next to him. He could fire him, he told himself. Today could be the last day he had to deal with him. What was the Commission going to do? Just slap him on the wrist and assign him a new PR manager? What else was there?

"I've got some news for you, and I need you to stay calm and let me finish talking before you decide you're going to throw a tantrum," Inoue said. He glanced at his phone, then looked at Bakugou again. "I've been speaking with a few people at the Commission, as well as Tsu's manager, and we've made a decision to improve your public image." He paused, as if expecting Bakugou to yell at him, but Bakugou sat, staring at himself in the mirror as his heart thrummed angrily in his chest. He simultaneously wanted to run a marathon and take a ten-hour nap. The last thing he wanted was to be talking to this guy right now.

Inoue cleared his throat and folded his hands in his lap, continuing. "We believe that it would be in your best interest to form a fake relationship with Tsuyu for a little while. Just to –"

There it was. The thing he had been dreading. He wasn't an idiot; he knew what they were doing. None of them were sly. He had just been waiting on them to admit it.

He finally turned to face him, doing his best to keep his voice under control, but that had never quite been his strong suit. "Tsu? Fucking Tsu? Why the hell would you do that? Who's gonna buy that shit? Tsu and I barely fucking know each other, and we have nothing in common. No chemistry, nothing. What kind of moron –"

"Watch it. This has been carefully planned out, and –"

"I'm not doing this shit. Find someone else to be part of your perverted ass fantasy."

"I'm not telling you that you have to marry her, for god's sake!" Inoue frowned, trying his best to look entirely innocent. Like he was somehow the victim here. "In fact, I very much discourage that; your Quirks are not compatible. Not every relationship is about getting married and starting a family. Sometimes it's…I don't know, something fun to pass the time until the right person comes along."

Bakugou clenched his fist in his lap, gritting his teeth so hard he thought they might break. There were a thousand different foul, nasty things running through his mind that he wanted to say to this absolute fucking clown, but the only thing that came out was, "What the hell are you trying to even accomplish here? What does this do for anyone? Because it makes me look soft, and it makes Tsu look like she's gone insane. If I saw this shit from the outside, I wouldn't trust either of us ever again."

Inoue’s frown deepened. "You're being far calmer about this than I imagined."

"Yeah? What did you expect? For me to go fucking crazy? For me to shove you against the wall and try to murder you? Because I can tell you right now, that is exactly what I want to do and it's taking every fucking bit of self-control right now not to launch you across the damn room."

Inoue sighed and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, then leaned back in his seat and started typing a text. Bakugou watched him, his heart beating so fast it was almost painful. He gripped the arms of the chair he was sitting in with almost enough strength to snap them in half as he forced air through his nose and tried to focus on something, anything to keep him calm. He was sweating. A lot. Sometimes the smell got too strong and made people around him get dizzy; not everyone had an immunity to nitroglycerin, after all. And sometimes he lost control. When he was all sweaty like this, sometimes little explosions just popped off on their own, no matter how hard he tried to stop it.

A loud crackle from Bakugou’s fingers finally made Inoue look up again. There was something in his beady little eyes that made rage burn deeply in Bakugou’s chest. He was serious about this. It wasn’t some backwards ass joke they had made up to mess with him. No, they thought they were on to something. They thought they were helping.

“What are your concerns about this? Let’s talk. Tsu is a pretty girl. She’s smart and kind, and she’s a hell of a hero. She deserves her spot in the top ten just like you do. We all know Bakugou Katsuki would never pay attention to anyone that wasn’t in the top ten, right?”

Bakugou’s lip curled into a snarl. He was mocking him. God, he could see the humor dancing around in his dark eyes, and he wanted to beat the shit out of him so badly. What would they do? What could they do? Did it even matter anymore?

“I don’t think numbers really make a difference,” he said. “They’re all bullshit, anyway. Just a bunch of made-up statistics to force us to work harder and do what everyone wants us to do instead of what we want to do.”

Even so, the numbers remained permanently in his brain, and no matter how many times he assured himself they were all nonsense, he couldn’t bear to see low numbers beside his name. He couldn’t bear to see himself slipping down the list, falling deeper and deeper into oblivion. If he didn’t do what they said, would they somehow manipulate the numbers, destroy the public’s image of him? Would they come up with some other story that ruined his reputation forever until he agreed to play their little game?

He wanted to beat Iida. But he wanted to do it in an honorable way, a way that mattered. And keeping his face on gossip sites wasn’t exactly his idea of honorable.

“Right, because you did date outside of the top ten, didn’t you?” Inoue shook his head with a sigh. “And now look where that’s gotten you. Did you truly think you were going anywhere with that relationship? Did you not understand how much he was holding you back?”

Bakugou ignored him, turning to face his reflection in the mirror again. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Inoue still staring at him, waiting. He knew Inoue thought he had won. He thought he was saying all the right things, and eventually, Bakugou would crack.

“Are they using numbers to manipulate everyone else too?” he asked. “I can’t imagine Icy Hot cares enough about his hero standing to whore himself out to old women with too much time on their hands.”

“Hmm. You’re right. Not everyone responds to the numbers. But you do, don’t you? You can’t stand not being number one.” Inoue leaned closer to him, dropping his voice down to a whisper. “You can fight it all you want to, Bakugou, but you and I both know that at the end of the day, the only thing you really care about is being number one. And I am giving you a way to grow your numbers. You’ll be climbing ahead in no time.”

Bakugou’s fingers tightened over the arms of the chair. He was shaking, though he wasn’t sure if it was from rage or fear. No, it was definitely rage. What did he have to be afraid of? Inoue had nothing on him. The Commission had nothing on him. He was his own person. He made his own decisions.

“Why would you want me to be number one? Why help me climb the ranks when there are clearly better heroes out there than me?” he asked. “What do any of you gain from this?”

“What makes you think we’re in it to gain anything?” Inoue frowned and turned his chair to face Bakugou. “I am your PR manager. My job is to make you the very best, and I am determined to fulfill that for you. I have done extensive research to know what the public wants, and what the public wants is a good love story.”

“And this is a good love story?” Bakugou scoffed. “You’re fucking insane. I can’t believe you would even think for a second that this was something anyone would want to see. I mean, just a few weeks ago everyone was talking about Asui and Tokoyami –”

“Old news. The world is constantly changing. Old stories grow stale. We need to constantly keep updating things in people’s lives to keep the public entertained –”

“So why the hell did it have to be me? Of all the fucking options you have, why me?” The wood splintered underneath his fingers, and Inoue watched with shock as chunks of it rained down onto the floor. Bakugou ignored it and stood up so quickly it knocked the chair over on its side. “Why can’t I just be left alone to do my job? I’m a pro hero, for fuck’s sake! Not a celebrity, not a toy. My job is to save the world –”

“And you haven’t been doing a very good job of that lately, have you?”

The words gave Bakugou pause, and he took a step back, examining the smug look on Inoue’s face. It was a trap, but he wasn’t sure how. He was normally better at keeping himself out of these situations, but right now, he felt cornered, and there was no way out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “I’ve been doing my job as well as I ever did –”

“No, you haven’t. And like I said, if you don’t start being a bit more careful, people might start to get suspicious of you. Wouldn’t want that, would we?”

The seething tone in his voice made Bakugou cringe. It felt like someone had knocked the air from his lungs. He knew. He had to. Bakugou could see it all over his face, and yet he didn’t understand how. He thought he was being so, so careful. Kirishima hadn’t been seen on the cameras close to his apartment. They had constantly switched hotels where they met up. And he didn’t think he was being too obvious about letting him get away.

No, there was no way that he could know. He was just testing the waters, trying to get a reaction out of Bakugou. But what sort of reaction would give him away? Getting angry was the logical choice, and it was very on brand for him, but getting angry also might imply guilt. If he stayed calm, if he agreed to Inoue’s demands, then it also might seem like he was guilty. It would give Inoue the impression that he had something on him, something that would make him dance whichever way he wanted him to. He could pull the strings, and Bakugou would be all his to control.
“Fuck off,” he hissed, giving Inoue a light shove, a warning. His chair wobbled, but he managed to gain his balance again. “You don’t know the first thing about me. I don’t care about numbers enough to play your stupid little game. So if you want someone you can push around and make all the rules for, I’m giving you freedom to do that, because you’re fired. I don’t ever want to see your face in my agency ever again.”

Inoue’s eyes widened for a brief moment, going back and forth rapidly like prey that had been cornered by a predator and was trying to find a way out. Finally, he said, “You can’t do that. I was assigned to you. You can’t just decide you’re done when I’m simply doing what I’m paid to do –”

“I just did. You’re done. And if you want someone to do this interview, maybe find Shindou. He was in the middle of the action more than I was. I’m leaving.”

“Do not walk out that door, Bakugou! If you do, I’ll make damn sure your career is over by tomorrow morning. Do you understand me? I will –”

“Try your best. Have fun trying to explain where I went, you stupid motherfucker.” He smiled as he flipped him off and ripped off the green bowtie that the stylist had forced him to wear. Finally, he could breathe like a normal human again.

“You think you can just walk away from this?” Inoue asked with a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You think it’s that easy? Fine, don’t stay for this interview, I don’t care. But when you signed on to be a pro hero, you signed on to do exactly as the Commission asked of you, and –”

He slammed the door so hard it rocked on its hinges. He could still hear Inoue screaming inside the room, but he ignored him as he made his way through the waiting area, stripping off his suit jacket and tossing it to the side. New interns were there now, watching him with wide, fearful eyes as he stormed down the hallway to the exit door. He couldn’t think about tomorrow or his future right now; it might make him go insane. All he could do right now was remind himself that Kirishima was waiting at the apartment for him.

Kirishima Eijirou. Damn it. If anyone had told him at fifteen years old he would choose a person over his pro hero career, he wouldn’t have believed them. Not for a second. But now, he couldn’t imagine a time when anything had come before Kirishima. What the fuck did it matter if Iida slipped ahead of him? What did it matter if they suspended his license, if they closed down his agency? It was all a game to them anyway, a show. None of it was real. None of it had ever been real. They were all just being groomed to be little chess pieces for the Commission to move as they pleased.

Why had no one warned them? Why did anyone let them fall into this life of lies and deceit?

“Bakugou!” Tsu jumped up from the chair she was seated in behind a halfway-closed door and bolted after him. He didn’t slow down, even as she raced to catch up, even as her hand closed around his wrist and tried to tug him, even as she begged him to stop and talk to her. He didn’t have anything to say. Not to her, not to anyone.

“Hey,” she said, breathless, as he drew to a halt just long enough to slide his guest keycard to open the exit door. The light blinked green, and he pushed the door open, Tsu following closely on his heels into the alley. “Look, I’m not happy about it either, but even if we say no, they’re gonna do what they want anyway, right? I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if –”

“Just say no. Any question anyone asks you, shut it down. Turn them back to your hero accomplishments. Make them talk about things that matter.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to face her. The dress she wore matched his hideous suit perfectly. The people with no brains would have thought they looked damn adorable sitting on the couch together. “They’re trying to turn our lives into a reality show for people’s entertainment, and they get to decide what’s real and what isn’t. But that doesn’t mean you have to let them.”

Tsu opened her mouth as if she wanted to protest, then shut it and nodded. “You’re really brave, Bakugou. And you’re so sure of yourself. I’m always afraid that someone is going to come along and overpower me one day, and I won’t have the strength to stand back up.” She shuffled her feet nervously against the gravel, then looked up at him with sad, watery eyes. “Are you making me do this interview by myself?”

“I think it would be better if you did.” He reached as if to pat her on the shoulder, then pulled back with a wince. “You were the star on the yacht, not me. Everything you did is way more important than what I did, and I don’t mind admitting that. You’re the one that’s gonna capture their attention, not me.”

Tsu nodded, and suddenly she launched herself at him and wrapped him in a tight hug. He did not hug her back. He was too startled, too confused by the show of affection, and he had no idea what to say. Not when she was trembling against him and there were tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I never understood what Kirishima saw in you,” she said, wiping at her cheeks. “I used to think he was too good for you. But I get it now. You’re a good person, Bakugou, even if you’re not great at showing it. I hope we can get to know each other better when all of this blows over.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything. As if he needed more friends constantly bombarding him.

“Just say no to all their questions and make them stay on topic,” Bakugou reminded her. “Don’t give them the chance to talk about that shit. None of it matters.”

She nodded, finally letting go of him. “Good luck,” she said, wringing her hands nervously. “With whatever you’re doing.”

It was like she could see his true intentions as well. They stared at each other for a long moment before he finally turned his back on her.

“Thanks. You too.”

He skipped his shift. Nothing would happen to him other than a one week suspension. And whatever punishment they decided to give him for firing his PR manager. That was something that he should have had some sort of say over, but he knew sooner or later he would hear from them, and they wouldn't be too pleased with his actions. They got to dictate every single aspect of his life, it seemed.

He stopped in front of his apartment door, resting his head against the cool wood as he slid the key into the lock. He could hear music playing softly inside. It sounded like Kirishima’s throwback pop punk playlist, and Kirishima was singing along to it.

God, he never in a million years would have thought this moment right here would be more important than his pro hero career. If he went back in time and tried to tell his younger self that another person whom he loved was greater than any number one position or any fame or fortune that came with hero work, his younger self would have laughed him into oblivion. And then he would have had to kick the little shit. It didn't make any sense, not when this all started and not now, but he knew deep down that he would rather come back to this every day and be number four than be alone at the top.

At least, that's what he kept telling himself. He didn't think he could live without Kirishima; two years had proven that. So theoretically, the Commission had nothing on him. They could not make him dance for them.

Unlocking the door, he pushed it open slowly and walked into the apartment. Kirishima had his back turned to him and was walking across the living room with a towel wrapped around his waist and one draped around his neck. His hair hung in wet strands, and there were still tiny water droplets glistening on his skin. Clearly he had just gotten out of the shower. Bakugou watched him as he drifted from the living room to the kitchen, humming along to the music as he opened the refrigerator and stared into it for a long moment. He had a toothbrush hanging from his mouth, and after several long seconds of silence he finally pulled out a bottle of juice and opened it up, dancing across the kitchen to set it down on the counter.

That's when he spotted Bakugou. He glanced up, startled for half a second before relaxing and removing the toothbrush from his mouth. He smiled, looking a little tired and a little sad, and Bakugou wondered if somehow he knew.

"You're back early," he said, spitting toothpaste into the kitchen sink and rinsing it out.

Bakugou wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Are you fucking kidding me? Where I wash my dishes?"

Kirishima shrugged nonchalantly and rinsed his toothbrush, then set it aside. "A sink is a sink, Kats. It doesn't matter."

"Yeah, but a kitchen sink is not for your spit –"

"What are you doing home so early?"

Bakugou hesitated, momentarily forgetting his disgust as he played Kirishima’s question back in his head. Home. For the first time in a long time, this empty, soulless apartment was alive, and it felt like home. He stared, unable to recall what went down at the studio or what had even brought him back to begin with. All he knew was that Kirishima was standing there, and he was smiling so warmly at him, and everything was clicking back into place.

"I love you," he said.

Kirishima looked away, almost in shame, as if he somehow didn't deserve to be loved, and that was fucking infuriating after everything they had been through so far, everything they had left to do. He nodded. "I love you too."

"Hey, Shitty Hair," Bakugou said, stomping across the room and stopping right in front of Kirishima. He grabbed his face, forced him to meet his eyes. Kirishima stared back at him, eyes wide and startled. "There aren't a lot of people I like, and the ones that I do I would never say it to their face. So when I tell you I love you, I really fucking mean it. Don't act like I'm wrong for how I feel or like you somehow don't deserve it because if there's anyone that doesn't deserve it, it's me. I fucking love you, and I always will. So get used to it, and stop acting so damn pitiful."

Kirishima didn't respond to him immediately. His eyes grazed Bakugou’s face, his gaze lingering on his mouth for a long moment before meeting his eyes once more. "What are you doing home? Don't you have interviews and publicity stunts or whatever?"

So maybe he did know about Tsu. But Bakugou wasn't going to bring it up, especially since nothing was happening. "I fired Inoue. And I left the interview."

"Oh." Kirishima shifted uncomfortably. "Did something happen?"

"No. People are just assholes. I'm not putting up with their shit." He leaned against the counter, examining Kirishima’s lean, wet body. It was crazy to think how this morning, just a few hours ago, he had been so against being touched, but now he was practically holding himself back from pouncing on him. Everything felt different now, like something in the universe had shifted.

Kirishima smiled shyly at him. "I like the suit. It looks nice."

"Sure, I guess. But I'm sure it would look better on the floor."

He watched Kirishima draw in a shaky breath and swallow hard, his mind clearly trying to catch up with what Bakugou had said. Bakugou smirked, leaning closer and closer to him until their lips were almost touching. He waited with bated breath, wanting desperately for Kirishima to make the first move, to pick him up and slam him onto the closest surface and fuck him until he could barely move. He could stay here for days, months even, wrapped up in Kirishima and nothing else.

"Are you sure?" Kirishima asked. "I don't want you to feel like you're being pressured or anything –"

"How have you pressured me? I'm the one coming onto you." He stabbed Kirishima in the chest with a finger and pressed a brief kiss to his lips. "You can say no, obviously, but if you want, I can go all night long."

Kirishima hesitated, glancing over at him briefly, then took a step closer to him and wrapped his arms around his waist. He was gentle in all his touches, gentle as he kissed the top of Bakugou’s head and drew him close to his warm, broad chest. Bakugou closed his eyes, losing himself in the comfort and the closeness for a moment too long, drowning in the scent of lavender and something a little bit smoky. He had used Bakugou’s shampoo, and god it smelled good on him.

"Are you sure nothing happened?" Kirishima asked. "You know you can tell me –"

"I know. Nothing happened. I'm just tired of everything. I want to be with you." He winced, almost ashamed at how vulnerable he sounded, how small.

"You are with me. I'm right here." He kissed Bakugou’s cheek, then his lips. Why the fuck did everything feel so fragile, like any second it would all just shatter?

"That's not what I mean," Bakugou said, an edge to his voice now as he pulled away. "I mean we should have been together this whole time. I should have paid more attention to all the bullshit and done something about it. I shouldn't have been so distant when we were out in public. I should have corrected people more often. Fuck, I should have seen that you were hurting, and I think on some level I did, and I just looked away." He sighed in frustration. "We should have had those two years, and we shouldn't have had to lie about who we were dating or what was going on in our lives. You shouldn't be in hiding from the Commission. We should be able to just…exist together, and we fucking can't."

"But we will be able to. One day."

"When? Five years? Ten? I don't think I can let people push me around and lie about me and treat me like shit for that long."

Kirishima shook his head, clearly distressed. "It won't be that long. It'll be soon. I just need some more time –"

"What the hell are we even doing, Ei? I mean…what's the plan? Because you're losing people, and it doesn't seem like you're getting any closer to blowing this shit wide open. People keep dying, and you're still the bad guy."

Kirishima nodded, staring down at the ground. "I know. I'm sorry."

Bakugou paused. He'd been pacing, he realized, and his fingers were crackling and burning. "Sorry for what?"

"For getting you involved. For not having a plan. For leaving in the first place. I should have just kept my mouth shut and gone with their plans for me. It wouldn't have been so bad, right?"

Bakugou turned around sharply and glared at him. "Are you serious? Ei, they were drugging you. They were drugging your mom. Fuck, we don't even know what they're doing to everyone else. I just want to know the plan. To save everyone."

Kirishima shook his head, unable to look at Bakugou as he drew patterns on the counter with his finger. He had his lips pursed into a thin line, as if he was physically restraining himself from saying something. Like maybe he knew something else he just wasn't willing to share.

It was troubling. Kirishima had never been this difficult to break. He had always been an open book, willing and ready to share every bit of himself that he could with others. It seemed impossible that they had gotten to this point. Bakugou felt like he was scrambling just to get the simplest answers from him.

"I had a plan," Kirishima finally said. "At least, I thought I did. But things are falling apart. I should have known taking Siren to the yacht was a bad idea. She can't fight, and without her…that makes the media takeover a little bit harder."

"Media takeover?" That was the first time he'd heard about that. "What does that mean? You're taking over a website or something?"

Kirishima sighed. "The plan was to take over everything we possibly could: websites, news stations, magazines, newspapers. We wanted to get the riots on the air, we wanted people sharing their stories. And we wanted more people on our side, more people to testify. We wanted information, and so far, we don't have enough of that. I tried to break into Sano's house to figure out more about the Quirk marriages, but he has the Shield installed there. Almost like he knows there are people trying to get in, like there's something he's trying to hide. And now Fujiwara's dead, and I…I just don't know what to do."

Bakugou paced the floor again, his anxiety skyrocketing with each step he took. It might be a good idea to take some more pills, just so he didn't feel like he was going to shake right out of his skin. Everything felt hot and dark and cramped, like he was shoved in some sort of box and he was going to suffocate.

"At this point, I'm thinking about trying to get in touch with Mr. Aizawa or Fat Gum –"

"No."

He could feel the shock from Kirishima, even without looking at him, and he was shocked at his sudden refusal as well. Hadn't he been trying to contact All Might almost since the beginning? Hadn't he hoped for some sort of guidance from someone who had more experience? But now…

"We can handle this on our own. You and me," he said, and as stupid as it sounded, it felt right. "We keep doing what we're doing. I'll get you any information you need. I'll find out about the foster kids and the blood samples and the Quirk marriages and the sex trafficking." His stomach turned at the thought of all of it. He still didn't understand what they needed from Yaomomo's blood or why they were selling heroes' bodies to the rich and powerful or why any of them were letting this all happen. If they would all just sit down and talk…

"The Wonderland incident should have been the end of it," Kirishima said. There was an edge to his voice, like he was right on the verge of panicking. He still wouldn't look at Bakugou. "Someone should have been investigating all those CEOs and politicians and Commission members that were there, but nothing's happening. They have to be paying off the police or something. This all has to be one big scheme that's too much for us to handle. There's no way it would go on this long if –"

"Those sons of bitches are gonna pay," Bakugou growled, his hands clenching into fists. "One way or another, we're gonna make them pay for everything they've done, everything they're doing now. They wanna make our lives a living hell? Fine. We'll show them what hell looks like."

Kirishima finally looked up at him, his eyes dark and solemn, but the corner of his mouth curved up into a smile. "You're really cute when you're mad."

"Guess I'm fucking adorable all the time then."

The smile fell from his face as he inched closer to Bakugou, one slow, hesitant step at a time. "Things are gonna get a lot harder from now on."

"Great. The harder, the better." He met Kirishima’s eyes and smirked, and the air shifted between them. He saw Kirishima’s gaze fall to his lips as he moved even closer, his fingers just slightly brushing over Bakugou’s. It was enough to send electricity racing through his veins and sparks dancing across his skin, enough to blur his vision and wipe every single troubling thought from his mind. He closed the gap, already shedding his clothes as he leaped into Kirishima’s arms and kissed him fiercely, like it was the last time it would ever happen.

Chapter Text

"I don't understand why you're watching those."

Bakugou leaned forward on the bed, holding his phone at eye level as he watched the screen. It was an old interview he had done by himself, a radio interview that got recorded and uploaded on YouTube. He was alone, which never was a good sign because he usually said things that got him in trouble with the media and landed him on everyone's shit list. They were quick to forgive, though. All he had to do was be a good hero.

Or so he thought.

"I don't understand why you're not giving me a massage like you said you were going to," he hissed, turning his head just slightly to look at Kirishima, who was seated next to him. He had woken up in a bad mood, and no amount of slamming back pills seemed to take that away.

Kirishima sighed wearily and brushed his hair out of his eyes. He had it in a half-up bun, and he looked positively adorable, but Bakugou didn't say that. He wouldn't. He just lay down on his belly on the sheets and let his arms dangle over the side of the bed as he continued to watch the interview. He felt Kirishima settle on top of him at the base of his spine as he started to knead at his tense shoulders, and it ached so badly but he didn't say a damn thing because he knew there was no calming himself down or making him relax. Kirishima had offered, and he had obliged, if only to stop his worrying for a little while.

"I just don't really understand what you think you're getting out of it," Kirishima said, leaning forward to press a kiss under Bakugou’s ear. He nipped at his skin, then sighed heavily again. "You're really tense." He pushed harder on him, the heels of his hands digging into Bakugou’s shoulders, but there was nothing except discomfort as he squirmed underneath him, ignoring him.

"I'm just looking for everything I didn't pay attention to before," he said, pausing the video so he could look back at Kirishima. "All the things they said and all the things I said that I didn't think were a big deal –"

"Why? So you can get mad at yourself? Katsuki, there's no point –"

"You getting off on this?" Bakugou raised an eyebrow, twisting his body just slightly, not enough to push Kirishima off of him. He grinned wickedly, and Kirishima rolled his eyes. He could feel Kirishima’s growing erection pressing up against him, and if he was in any sort of mood, he would have gladly let him fuck his brains out. But as it stood, he was far too angry to care.

"Sorry if I get a little turned on sitting on top of you when you're naked," Kirishima grumbled, pushing Bakugou back against the mattress. It stirred a little something in Bakugou that made him a bit ashamed, and then he thought maybe fucking was exactly what he wanted to do right now, especially if Kirishima was in a mood to push him around. But he kept his mouth shut and started the video again. "Can you just relax a little more? I'm doing the best I can, and you're really stiff."

"So are you," Bakugou replied, barely even thinking as he ground his ass back against Kirishima’s cock. He felt a soft tremble shiver through Kirishima’s body, and he waited, holding his breath and hoping that Kirishima would take action.

But he just squeezed Bakugou’s shoulders and kissed the back of his neck. Not very satisfying.

"What can I do to get you to relax and stop thinking so much?" Kirishima whispered in his ear. His voice was a low growl, making a shiver dart up Bakugou’s spine as Kirishima sucked his earlobe into his mouth, pressing his cold ball piercing against sensitive skin. Bakugou nearly dropped his phone on the ground, his eyes fluttering shut as Kirishima continued kissing down his body, across his shoulders, down his back. He settled with his cockhead pressing at Bakugou’s already loose hole, just barely breaching the rim and making Bakugou’s toes curl against the sheets.

Still, there were a few years worth of bullshit to sort through, and he didn't have the time to do it. He settled back onto the mattress, doing his best to ignore the pressure against his asshole and his own hard dick pushing against his stomach. He rolled his hips just a little, just enough to create a bit of friction, and bit his lip to hold in the moan.

Right now, a stupid ass eighteen-year-old Bakugou demanded his attention. He needed answers, and getting dicked down was not going to help anything.

"Katsuki," Kirishima whined, shaking him. "You can't change the past, so please just let me help you right now."

"You do help me. But making me feel better isn't gonna stop everyone's suffering. So can you just let me watch this?"

Somehow, the interview had not steered toward his love life. Yet. But he remembered the interview well, and he knew that it was coming. He just couldn't remember all of his dumbass responses. Had he lied to them about the nature of his relationship with Kirishima? Surely not, but maybe he had been instructed to do so. And maybe he had listened.

But that didn't sound like him. When did he ever listen to anyone?

Had they threatened him? Had they already smeared his name or created some sort of rumor that he couldn't get out of? Why didn't he remember anything he'd said to them?

He stared at the image on his screen, at the younger version of himself seated there smugly with his feet propped up on the table and wearing headphones as he gazed at the radio host with utter boredom. For the time being, they were discussing a bank robbery that he had been called to the day before and handled within minutes all by himself. That alone had brought his numbers up quickly, and he had nearly breached the top ten at that point. Kirishima had rested at a solid twenty-two for four months after this before he started to climb.

"You still go on missions with your friends from U.A., right? You just got back from a weekend in Europe with Kirishima Eijirou and Ashido Mina? How was that?" the radio host asked. "Were you happy to get out of Japan for a while? Were you relieved to be back?"

"It was a good break from all the bullshit that I deal with here, yeah."

The radio host frowned. "You can't say that on the air."

"Shit, sorry."

He continued pestering him about the trip to Europe, what sights they had seen, what people they met. As if they had any down time to just relax and tour the continent. Bakugou sighed and relaxed into the mattress as Kirishima’s fingers ghosted over his ribs and his mouth traveled down his spine. He sighed contentedly, almost wanting to turn the video off and give Kirishima his full attention, but he resisted the urge. Nothing was going to get solved that way.

"Do you want me to leave you alone?" Kirishima asked as his lips pressed against Bakugou’s neck, sucking gently at his skin. His knee pressed in between Bakugou’s thighs, spreading them further apart as his hand squeezed at his ass cheek, fingers brushing tauntingly over the crevice.

Bakugou huffed, unable to contain himself anymore. Surely he could multitask. "No. Keep doing whatever you're doing."

"Okay. But if you want me to stop, just let me know."

Bakugou ignored him and turned his attention back to the screen. They were taking a break to play some music before they went into the next segment of the interview, which would be taking phone calls from listeners. Of course that would have been enough to annoy him.

He placed his phone in front of him on the mattress and rested his head on his arms as some cheesy pop song played in the background. Kirishima was being far too delicate with him, placing soft kisses over every inch of skin he could reach. He could feel his body shifting on top of him, his cock dragging over him as he moved, and Bakugou felt himself twitch against his belly as precome smeared across his skin. It was getting to be ridiculous how badly he wanted Kirishima shoved inside of him and scrambling his insides, and he thought if it would have lasted any longer he would have screamed. But finally, finally Kirishima pulled his ass cheeks apart, and his fingers instinctively curled into the sheets as he awaited the intrusion.

But it wasn't dick that he got. Something warm and wet pushed past his rim, and he clenched around it as he shoved himself to his knees, wriggling uncomfortably under the strange, unwelcome feeling. He twisted onto his side just enough so that he could see – Kirishima had his tongue in his ass.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he yelled, pushing Kirishima’s head away from him. "Jesus fucking shit, what the hell?"

Kirishima stared at him, his tongue still hanging out a bit as he blinked stupidly, obviously completely confused by the outburst. But what the fuck? He had never done that before, nor had Bakugou ever shown him any sign that he would be into that. Who would be into that? He shuddered, his whole body heating up as his heart pounded wildly beneath his ribs. He couldn't tell if he was more angry or shocked. Or disgusted. God, he couldn't even imagine the urge –

"I'm so sorry," Kirishima said. "I thought it would feel good."

"It didn't. It was weird and unsanitary, and why the hell –"

"We just got out of the shower, Kats. You're clean. But if you don't want me to, then I won't. I'll just use my fingers instead."

"Thank you." He hesitated for a long second, holding Kirishima’s gaze to make sure that he didn't try any other funny business before he flattened himself back on his stomach. Goosebumps rose along his arms. He couldn't seem to get his heart under control. What the fuck? In all the years they'd been together, he'd never tried anything like that. Maybe because he knew how fucking nasty –

Kirishima pushed one finger past his entrance, and he groaned as it slid over a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves inside him. His finger curled, his knuckles brushing up against him, and Bakugou thrust himself backward to meet each of Kirishima’s fast, rough movements.

His thoughts traveled back to his tongue as another finger was pushed inside of him. God, it was weird. Even if he was clean it was weird. But for the split second it was there, it had felt…kind of nice. And that ball piercing that Kirishima had…God, Bakugou did love it when he pushed that into the slit of his cock. Maybe it would feel good inside his ass too.

He grabbed his phone as the interviewer started taking calls from listeners and flipped over onto his back, meeting Kirishima’s shocked, wide-eyed expression with a smirk. There was a large puddle of precome that had accumulated on his flushed skin now. Kirishima eyed his dick with mild interest before settling back on his face.

"What's up?" he asked casually, resting his hands on Bakugou’s knees as he waited for some sort of permission to proceed.

"I don't know if I'll like it," Bakugou said, "but…if you have some sort of weird desire to eat my ass, then I guess I can give it a shot."

Kirishima rolled his eyes and let out a breath as he pushed Bakugou’s knees up to his chest and settled in between his legs. "I don't just sit here and think about eating ass. But I care about you, and I think that it would feel good for you."

Bakugou shrugged, his heart never slowing down as he looked back at his phone. His whole body was tense, his toes curled in anticipation as he tried to focus on the interview in front of him instead of the fact that Kirishima was about to eat him out and he was going to let him like he was some common whore. His breath came in short, shuddering gasps as Kirishima’s lips traveled down his stomach, lapping at the liquid smeared across his red-hot skin, and each second that ticked by brought a deeper sense of terror and thrill that Bakugou didn't quite understand. He let out a breath, staring at his phone screen as he drew his legs closer to his chest.

"Was it weird being the third wheel?" the radio caller asked.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" eighteen-year-old Bakugou hissed.

"Language."

"I just mean that Hero Lines Network reported on Red Riot and Pinky's relationship a few days ago, and it must have been weird to be on such a romantic trip to Europe with them."

He felt Kirishima’s nose brush underneath his balls, and he sucked in a breath and held it as Kirishima’s tongue pushed past his rim again. He clenched down on him, his heart pounding wildly, but as he let out a breath he relaxed a little, and Kirishima was able to push in further.

It was weird. God, it was weird. His fingers curled tightly around his phone and his vision blurred as he tried desperately to focus on the video before him, but Kirishima was too good at whatever he was doing, and now Bakugou was leaking profusely as Kirishima pulled back to lick across his hole and all the way up to his balls. Bakugou groaned, back arching off the bed as Kirishima dove down again, first biting into the muscle of his thigh hard enough to leave teeth marks and make Bakugou cry out, then wrapping his lips around Bakugou’s loose, slick hole and sucking like he was trying to vacuum out his soul.

"Jesus fuck, Eijirou," he growled, shuddering as he reached to grab Kirishima’s hair. He gripped a fistful of dark hair and pulled, earning him a satisfying moan that made him all the more eager for whatever the hell was going on.

It was weird. It was good.

"You like that?" Kirishima asked, voice muffled by his mouth buried against Bakugou’s thigh, sucking his skin raw and red. He didn't give Bakugou time to answer, not that he needed to because he was thrusting desperately, searching out Kirishima’s mouth with pitiful whines and tears pooling in his eyes.

The damn video didn't matter anymore. This feeling of euphoria stirring inside of him was all that mattered. He felt like he was floating, drifting on an entirely undiscovered plane of existence, and as Kirishima plunged his tongue into him once again, he threw his head back and screamed in frustration. The ball piercing scraped over his insides, lighting him on fire, and his fingers curled tighter into Kirishima’s hair as he devoured him. It was a mess of teeth and tongue that felt so unbelievably good he could barely see straight.

He opened his mouth, tried to say something, but all that came out was little gasps and incoherent noises. He wasn't even sure what he was trying to say. The pressure was building up inside of him with each deep stroke of Kirishima’s tongue, and he felt heat racing through his veins and settling in his stomach. With a soft whine, he tossed the phone aside and wrapped his leg around Kirishima’s neck, flipping them over so that now he was sitting on top of him, panting heavily.

Kirishima gazed up at him, pupils blown wide, and his hands came to rest on Bakugou’s hips. He looked just as breathless and starstruck. "You're so perfect," he whispered, fingers drifting gently over Bakugou’s thigh. "Everything about you is amazing."

Bakugou kissed him, fierce and rough and needy and longing, tongue chasing Kirishima’s and clashing brutally as he ground himself over Kirishima’s hard cock. He wasn't sure how long he kissed him, didn't care, only knew that when he broke away he couldn't breathe, and there was nothing but darkness, but still the desire burned inside of him like a flame, like an explosion blasting everything to pieces, and he leaned forward, rocking his hips down over the head of Kirishima’s cock and whispered, "Unbreakable my ass. I'm gonna ride you until you fucking snap in half."

Kirishima sucked in a breath, and the corner of his mouth curled into the softest of smiles as his fingers carded through Bakugou’s sweaty hair. He pressed a kiss to Bakugou's cheek. "Anything you want, babe."

Bakugou made a strangled noise at the back of his throat and buried his face against Kirishima’s shoulder, hoping to God that he couldn't tell how badly he was blushing. That probably could have ended him had he not so desperately wanted to be on top, but as it stood he was right on the edge, about to tip over, and as much as he hated to admit it, he had absolutely no control.

And he liked it that way.

The dull sounds of the radio interview met his ears. He was yelling about something, but he couldn't be sure what it was. Had he even bothered to deny the rumors of Kirishima and Ashido's relationship, or did he just ignore it like he had ignored so many other things?

Kirishima tilted his head to capture his lips in his own as he thrust his hips upward, sliding his cock right into Bakugou’s wet entrance. He squirmed, fingers curling in the sheets as he lifted himself up and then slammed himself back down with enough force to make Kirishima buckle beneath him. It was a war, a fight, and they were just getting started.

Each push inside of him was rough and fast, going deeper and deeper with each second until Kirishima was completely buried inside of him. God, he could swear he was touching his stomach, but that couldn't be possible, not really, though he touched his belly just to make sure, and his nails scratched lightly over Kirishima’s chest, leaving pink lines in their wake. He felt hot, nearly at combustion level. Kirishima gripped his hips tightly, holding him in place as he pounded into him like he was trying to break him instead. It ached, god it ached so wonderfully. He didn't even want to fight back.

"Okay?" Kirishima asked, because of course he had to check on him at all times even though Bakugou didn't think that was very necessary. He responded by leaning forward and capturing his lips in a rough, bruising kiss, shoving his tongue in as deep as he could reach and savoring the minty sweet taste that lingered in Kirishima’s mouth.

"Harder," he whispered, pulling at Kirishima’s hair as he bit down on his shoulder, and Kirishima was quick to oblige, always quick, always wanting to please.

He held tighter to Bakugou, his hips slamming against Bakugou’s thighs with brute force that made him cry out. His fingers sparked against Kirishima’s skin, and he was unable to control himself as each thrust tipped him closer and closer, the heat inside of him rising to an impossible temperature. More sparks, and Kirishima hardened against him.

"I thought you wanted to do all the work," Kirishima said with a cheeky grin, his fingers tracing lines up Bakugou’s back.

He slammed into Bakugou’s prostate, and Bakugou shuddered, thinking that might be the end for him, but somehow he still hung on, meeting each thrust with his own. He was so deliciously full. His vision was blurring. It shouldn't have been possible to be this drunk on someone, but he was, and he would keep drinking until it killed him.

"You're so lazy, Kats. Always want me to do everything for you."

"Am not," Bakugou hissed, their mouths clashing once again as he sank into him, devouring every inch he could reach. Teeth scraped over lips and tongue, the sharp taste of copper filled his mouth, and he groaned with pleasure. "I don't need this. I don't need you."

"Want me to stop?"

"You better fucking not."

Kirishima smiled, poking his tongue out a little bit as he bent his legs slightly, shifting Bakugou on his lap to change the angle and oh god this was it this was going to be it he couldn't hold on anymore–

"Remember when we first started dating and we were sneaking around and making out in classrooms and dark corners whenever we got a minute to ourselves?" Kirishima asked.

Bakugou let out a puff of breath, clenching around Kirishima as he nodded.

And suddenly he was on all fours, panting heavily as Kirishima slowed behind him, pulling out until there was just the head breaching him, and he whined, pushing up against him. Kirishima was in full control though. He fought him back, pushing him away from the dick he so desperately craved, placing one big hand on Bakugou’s hip and the other wrapping around his wet, flushed cock. He leaned forward, chest pressed against Bakugou’s back, and whispered, "This is so much hotter than that."

Fuck. He squeezed his eyes shut as Kirishima pushed in again, all the way to the hilt, and his breath caught in his throat as his hand slid down the length of Bakugou’s dick, taking his sweet, precious time as if he knew how to draw this out for as long as possible, as if he didn't care that Bakugou was being tortured, that that heat pooling in his stomach and traveling straight down to his cock wasn't about to melt him down until he was a boneless, fragile mess lying on the bed, unable to move. His thighs trembled violently, almost giving out on him, and stars danced in his vision. It was too much too much –

He came with a shudder that ran from his head all the way down to his toes, and when he thought he was done, he just kept coming, all over the bed, all over his chest, all over Kirishima’s hand still sliding over his length. And Kirishima just kept going, driving himself deeper and deeper as Bakugou shook, his body weeping against the overstimulation.

"Ei, I can't –" he said through quiet pants. His whole body felt like it was about to crumple and turn into dust. He pressed his forehead against the dirty sheets, grabbing them with weak fingers to try to ground himself as Kirishima tore him apart. "I can't anymore. I'm–"

"Just a second, baby," Kirishima whispered, fingers carding softly through Bakugou’s sweaty hair. "I'm so close. You can handle it. I know you can."

"I can't –" He gasped, squeezing his eyes shut as Kirishima grabbed his hips, spreading his legs further apart as he slammed into him once more, and then he was being filled up, flooded with warm, wet liquid that dripped down his thighs. When Kirishima pulled out, he felt more hit his back, and he groaned, collapsing onto his stomach on limbs that could not hold up his weight any longer. He could barely breathe. Every sensation racing through his body was like fire flooding his veins.

"I'm so sorry," Kirishima said, falling down on the bed next to him. "I'm so sorry. Was that too much? Did I hurt you?"

Bakugou tried to shake his head, but he couldn't make himself move. "No," he said. "You're fucking incredible. I just don't think I'm moving for the rest of the day."

“That’s okay. We don’t have anywhere to be.” Kirishima rolled over onto his side and slung his arm over Bakugou’s waist, drawing him close as he pressed a kiss to his neck. “We can just stay like this all day.”

Bakugou sighed and closed his eyes, listening to the interview continuing to play beside his head as Kirishima nuzzled against him, his warm breath raising goosebumps along Bakugou’s sensitive skin. He was still trembling, and every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire. He wanted to sleep, but he could never sleep like this, not in this post-orgasmic haze where each twitch of his body felt like agony and bliss. He could feel Kirishima’s mouth close to his, and he wanted to turn his head to kiss him, but he wasn’t sure he could make himself move even if he tried.

A sudden violent buzzing of his phone shook him from his stupor just enough for him to turn his head and look at the screen. A notification had popped up, but it disappeared before he could read anything else besides the word “BREAKING.”

"Why does it even fucking matter?" eighteen-year-old Bakugou was yelling in the interview as Bakugou gingerly picked up his phone and swiped to look at his notifications. "Heroes and celebrities and everyone else change partners every other damn week. I've been in the same relationship…"

Fuck. Shit. There was a riot breaking out downtown. He pressed the notification with a shaky finger, suddenly sitting up and alert, the fog lying over his brain long forgotten. A live video played before his eyes – civilians held behind metal barricades, police officers pushing back against them, shouting, crying, a voice on a megaphone somewhere off camera calling for justice, for Quirk equality. There were heroes patrolling the barricade, many of them trying to calm the civilians, some being a little forceful. He could see Ashido's bright pink hair, Yaomomo's long, lean legs, Shinsou's capture weapon. All of them were being shoved around, yelled at, slowly disappearing into the crowd of furious civilians.

Bakugou felt like he was going to be sick.

"Whoa," Kirishima said, his voice barely audible over the noises coming from Bakugou’s phone. He was pressed to Bakugou’s side, watching with wide, fearful eyes. "That looks like it's going to get out of control really fast."
A woman with horns and stormy gray eyes stood at the front of the onslaught, megaphone in hand as she addressed the civilians, surging forward like a tsunami crashing over the land. “There is no equality! Not even for the pro heroes! And if they’re not treated as equals, then how do you think we’re being treated?”

There were cheers from the crowd, while a chant started up somewhere in the back, at first barely there, but it was steadily growing louder: “No more heroes! No more heroes!”

“There was a time when we weren’t so obsessed with Quirks,” the woman continued. “We were just human, trying to get by just like we had been doing since the dawn of time. And now we’re defined by our Quirks! All we are is DNA and genes to be passed to the next generation – if we’re worthy.”

Boos from the crowd. One person cried out, “Who determines who’s worthy?” Screams and rising voices as the crowd tried to speak over one another. Ashido pressed close to the troublesome zone, where people were starting to jostle one another as they argued. Someone pushed her, and she staggered backward into a group of people who moved out of the way, purposely letting her fall to the ground as they booed her. No one bothered to help her up.

“Shit,” Kirishima whispered from beside him. “This is bad.”

Bakugou sucked in a shaky breath. Something icy flooded his veins, something like terror, but he was numb to the sensation. He could barely feel Kirishima pressing in next to him, could barely comprehend the words coming out of the horned woman’s mouth. More heroes were swooping in, more police cars arriving with their sirens blaring, casting the crowd of protesters in a multicolored glow. Everyone was screaming, fighting, the police threatening to arrest the loudest dissenters, and everything was so, so much. He couldn’t even focus on one singular point in the video.

“You did this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You started a movement.”

Kirishima didn’t answer immediately. The bright lights of the phone screen danced across his face, trapped in his wide, darkened eyes. Bakugou watched him, trying to discern the emotions that might be stirring within him, but he couldn’t read anything. Kirishima was a closed book for once in his life.

On the screen, someone screamed, a long, high-pitched wail that sounded like a ghost, and then someone else shouted, “She’s got a knife!” and suddenly all hell broke loose. Utsushimi Camie rolled into view, followed by Shiozaki Ibara and that bastard Monoma, and there was smoke coming from somewhere, shrouding the crowd in a big, puffy pink cloud as vines shot out from Shiozaki and wrapped up some of the people in the front, toppling them to the ground. There was blood on the ground, and people were shouting in fear, in anger, in anguish, in joy. He couldn’t see any of his former classmates, his friends.

“I never wanted this,” Kirishima said, his voice breaking as he leaned toward the screen. Bakugou could see the tears shimmering in his eyes. “I just wanted you.”

A dull ache surged through Bakugou’s chest, and weakly, he reached out, placing a gentle hand on Kirishima’s knee and squeezing tightly. There was nothing to be said. Things were getting out of control, and they could only fight it head-on. They could not change the damage that had already been done.

“There has to be reform, though,” Kirishima said, scrubbing at his wet cheeks. He met Bakugou’s eyes, his gaze firm and hard, and Bakugou felt like he was breaking. “You know that, right? Things have to change. You have to accept that.”

“Not like this,” Bakugou replied, shaking his head. “Innocent people were never meant to get hurt. We’re heroes, Eijirou. I think we agreed to save civilians the moment we stepped into U.A.”

“Innocent people have been getting hurt since the very beginning,” Kirishima said. “I got hurt. Kaminari is hurting. Todoroki is hurting. Look at everyone around you and what they’re suffering through. Look at all the people you went to school with, all the people you –” He stopped himself, moving out of Bakugou’s reach. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“It’s fine,” Bakugou grumbled, watching the chaos unfold on the screen. It wasn’t fine, and he thought that if he looked at Kirishima, he might snap. “But there are other ways –”

“You’re telling me to do things without a fight?” Kirishima scoffed as he got up from the bed and started pulling his clothes on. “You can’t keep changing your mind just because things get bad. One second you’re on my side, the next you’re not. Which is it, Kats? Do you want the suffering to end or not?”

Bakugou glared at him. “Of course I want it to end, but do you not see that our friends are out there fighting for their lives –”

“Do you think you matter to the Commission?” Kirishima asked, leaning onto the bed so that he was face-to-face with Bakugou again. “Do you think any of them matter? They send all of you out onto the battlefield to fight to the death, and when you die, you make headlines for a week, and then you’re replaced. Someone else moves into the spotlight. The ones that survive are turned into pawns to make sure that the hero line keeps going. Pretty soon, you’re gonna walk out on the other side of this, and you’re gonna be in an arranged marriage, forced to have kids you never even wanted with a person you don’t even love. And then you’ll disappear into oblivion once someone better comes along.”

“Someone better?” Bakugou hissed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Someone better is always going to come along, Katsuki. The next generation is always going to be better, brighter, stronger. But we can change this. You know we can.”
Bakugou stared at him. He had all of his clothes on now, and he was starting to put on his socks and boots. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“To the riot,” Kirishima replied. “To help.”

“Oh, like hell you are! You’re a wanted fucking criminal, dumbass!”

“It doesn’t matter anymore! We either fight to make the world a better place, or we sit back and let things go on as they are, and I can’t sit by while people are getting hurt. Can you?”

“No.” He didn’t think they were fighting for the same people, though. They could keep arguing and circling around each other for the rest of their lives, and they would still never be on the same page. “I’m on your side, Eijirou. I’m trying to be, at least. Are you on mine?”

“I have never,” Kirishima said, rounding the bed to crouch in front of Bakugou on the ground, “not been on your side, Kats. I would do anything for you.”

“I know,” Bakugou said. “And I think that sort of dedication is what’s gonna get us both killed.”

“Stop it. Don’t say that.”

They sat in silence, Kirishima’s hands resting on Bakugou’s thighs, his head tilted up to meet Bakugou’s stormy gaze. Bakugou wanted to scream, he wanted to fight, but he felt like everything was melting out of him. He was so, so tired. After yelling and shouting and tearing everything apart his entire life, he felt like there was nothing left for him to destroy. Everything was already falling apart. Pretty soon, he would be standing in the middle of a toxic wasteland with nothing but his troubled thoughts for company.

“The world is ending,” he said, like a damn pessimist, and he couldn’t convince himself otherwise.

“The world as we know it,” Kirishima corrected him, taking Bakugou’s hand in his and pressing it to his lips. “Everything might go up in flames, but we’ll make it out on the other side. Me and you and all of our friends. I swear to you, Kats. I swear.”

A sound like an explosion came from Bakugou’s phone, followed by more screams. In broad daylight. All of this was happening in broad daylight. What would the nighttime and the promise of shadows bring out of hiding?

“Fucking shit,” Bakugou said. “It was never supposed to be like this.”

“No. It wasn’t. But it is, so now we have to make it the life that we wanted all along. But it’s not gonna happen without a fight.”

Bakugou sighed. He was right, obviously, but he had learned from all of his past experiences that they could not win every fight, and this one seemed the most impossible of all for them to win.

The smoke had cleared up on the screen. In the middle of the crowd, Bakugou could see Ashido on the phone as she attempted to keep herself from getting knocked down again.

And then his phone was ringing, lit up with a picture that Ashido had taken of herself on graduation night that he never bothered to change. He stared at it, then looked at Kirishima. “I have to go,” he said. “They need me.”

Kirishima nodded, biting his lip. “I know.”

“You can’t go.”

“I know.”

Bakugou nodded, letting out a breath that burned in the back of his throat. “Good. Stay safe.” He was already getting dressed as he answered the call.

Chapter Text

The scene was worse up close. As Bakugou approached the barricades, he could see bodies lying sprawled and prone on the ground, some of them barely moving, some not moving at all. A few heroes with healing Quirks drifted in and out of the crowd, checking on those that had fallen, while medics rushed in with stretchers and carted people away to ambulances. They could barely keep up with the injured, and still, more ambulances were flooding in. Not enough. None of it was enough to stop this chaos and despair.

Smoke curled up in front of his eyes. It burned his lungs. As he watched the people push one another aside, as he watched projectiles fly through the air and slam into buildings, into cars, into people, all he could do was stand, frozen to the spot, knowing that all of this stemmed from Kirishima. He so desperately wanted to love Bakugou loudly and openly that he awakened everyone else to the flaws of their society.

And now it was Bakugou’s responsibility to bottle it back up, to silence the revolution and put things back into their proper place.

It was his responsibility.

But it felt wrong.

Ashido was the first to spot him. Her hair had lost most of its volume, plastered to her face with sweat and blood, though he couldn’t tell if it was her own. She pushed through the crowd as they jostled her back and forth. Bakugou noticed that her hero costume was ripped, and there was a long, bleeding wound across her stomach. If she was hurting, she showed no sign of it.

“Katsuki,” she said, breathless, and a chill rushed down his spine. She sounded desperate, serious. Her hands wrapped around his wrists tightly, clutching him like he was a lifeline and she was being washed away by the sea. There was a wild look in her eyes that didn’t belong. “It’s bad. It’s very bad.” She let out a breath. The first sign of exhaustion was starting in her shoulders as she curled in on herself. “Why would he want to do something like this? Why would he want us to get hurt?”

“He doesn’t–” He stopped himself as her face fell, her eyebrows crinkled in the middle. “I don’t think he ever meant to hurt us.”

There were tears gleaming in the corners of her eyes now. “I want to believe that, I do, but –”

Someone pushed her from behind, and she collapsed against Bakugou. All of his strength had sapped out of him at some point, but he managed to hold her up. She let out a breath, and for a moment, she fell limp in his grasp. He could feel her trembling as her arms wrapped around his shoulders. “What did they do to him, Katsuki?” she asked, voice breaking. “What did they do to any of them?”

Bakugou stared around at the sea of faces, none of which he recognized, but he could feel their anguish, their pain, in a way that he had never been able to before. For so long, he had been blind. He had never recognized the privilege that he had in society, the way that others suffered because of his and everyone else’s superiority complexes. They felt…useless. Unloved. Unimportant. Their society favored the strong, the powerful, the unique.

They were always moving toward this point. They just needed a catalyst, something to finally set them into motion.

He swallowed hard, his vision blurring as the bodies and the smoke and the lights created a scene straight out of hell. “When I was nine,” he said, “there was a kid in my class that could make plants grow. Nothing extreme. When he touched dying flowers, they came back to life. He could make buds grow to full bloom in a matter of seconds.”

Ashido sniffled. The crease in her eyebrows told him that she was confused about why he was telling her this when chaos was raining down all around them. “That’s lovely,” she said.

“I didn’t think so. I thought it was the stupidest shit I’d ever heard in my life. He was going to be a botanist like his mom, and I told him it was pointless. That he was pointless. And everyone else started saying it too.”

He waited, but Ashido didn’t say anything. Two girls in front of them were chanting, waving around signs that read, “Down with the Commission!” and “Rise up against Quirk inequality!” They both had animalistic features, one resembling a deer, the other a fox.

“A few years later, our teachers told us that he had killed himself,” he continued. “His mom said he had been struggling with depression for a while, but I’ve always wondered…” He sucked in a shaky breath, unable to finish his thought.

Ashido’s hand found his, and she squeezed it gently. “It wasn’t your fault, Bakugou.”

He had almost convinced himself of that, but hadn’t Deku also almost met a gruesome end because of his cruelty? How many of these people standing before him had suffered at the hands of someone’s wrath, someone’s hatred and discrimination? How many of them weren’t even around anymore to fight this fight?

A quick movement to his left caught his attention, and he looked just in time to see a flash of pink, and Uraraka was on the ground, a large, whale-shaped man with broad shoulders and the sharp teeth of an orca bearing down on her, hovering close to her face. A long line of saliva dripped onto her sweaty skin, and she grimaced. “A little help?” she screamed over the noise, and Bakugou and Ashido were in motion.

They had to be careful, because even though this man was threatening a hero, he was still technically a civilian, so harming him in any serious way could get their licenses revoked right away. But he was also very seriously close to harming her, so they had to act fast. His gigantic hands had her arms pinned to the ground above her head, and even as she kicked and fought, she could not throw him off. He knew her Quirk well; he knew she couldn’t use it if her fingers couldn’t touch.

“Get away from her!” Ashido screamed, slinging a wave of acid at him. It landed squarely in his face and made him flinch away, wiping at his squinted, red-ringed eyes as she landed a kick to his side that sent him toppling onto his back. Bakugou made his way to Uraraka, but she was already up before he could get there, fingers pressed together and dragging the attacker from the ground. The lack of gravity left him suspended a little above Mina’s head, and his hands swatted at her and tried to grab on, but he only continued flipping and flailing.

“If you don’t calm down, you’ll be spending the night in a jail cell,” Uraraka told him, eyes flashing dangerously.

“Let me go, you stupid bitch!” The man thrashed in the air, and Uraraka lost her composure just long enough to let him slam into the asphalt. Ashido and Bakugou were already rushing him, Ashido covering him in a thick layer of acid that was just enough to make it feel like he had a bad sunburn, and he bellowed as Bakugou restrained him.

“Watch your damn mouth,” he hissed at him, his grip tightening around his thick wrists. All he had to do was wait for one of the cops to come get him. Then they could move on.

The man turned his dark, lifeless eyes on Bakugou, and slowly, his lips curled into a snarl. “You piece of shit. You’ve always thought you’re better than everyone else. You don’t even recognize me, do you?”

Bakugou stared at his face, at the lines on his neck and the blowhole on top of his head that trickled water. There was no way he could forget someone like this. But he was drawing a blank, and apparently this man knew him.

“I–” He was prepared to make something up, but the man scoffed and rolled his eyes, and he knew if he did, it would make things worse.

“We were in Yochien together. Me and you and Deku. You let me hang out with you for a couple of weeks until you decided I just wasn’t good enough for you. You only wanted people with specific Quirks. You wanted people who were strong but not stronger than you. You wanted people to worship you, and the second they saw what a massive piece of shit you were, you tossed them to the side like somehow you were the good guy.” He tilted his head to the side, studying him, and Bakugou’s breath caught in his throat. His grip loosened. “You were never the good guy. You’re just as useless as the rest of us. You just get to reap the rewards of this society because you have a good Quirk. If you ever lost it, no one would ever care about you again. You’d die alone.”

“That’s enough!” Ashido shouted, her arm making an arc over the man’s head. He flinched, but the acid did not land on him this time. “You’ve had your chance. You can get your friends and go home, or you can spend the night in jail. Which is it?”

The man huffed a laugh, but there was no feeling behind it. “Why should it matter? I have no one to go home to.”

Bakugou watched Ashido’s expression fall, could see that he was getting under her skin. Luckily, a couple of police officers showed up, and they had him in indestructible cuffs in no time, leading him toward one of the cruisers parked along the barricades.

“This isn’t over!” the man yelled over his shoulder as he was pushed into the backseat. “We’ll keep fighting until you all learn your damn lesson!”

The door slammed shut.

“Who was that?” Uraraka asked from beside him.

He still wasn’t sure. As if he could remember every shitty thing he’d ever done, especially in his first few years of life. Around the same time he’d started making Deku feel subhuman too. There was so much movement around him, so many bodies, and yet he felt so cold.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said with a shrug, though he knew it would probably plague him for the rest of his days. Someone had really held a grudge against him this long. He had affected someone’s life that deeply. And he didn’t even know who he was. He quickly changed the subject before he started thinking too much. “I don’t think you should be out here fighting like this while you’re pregnant.”

She smiled grimly. “I don’t think I asked for your opinion.” She started to make her way back through the crowd, then turned back to face him. “I can’t just stop doing my job. I don’t have that option. And neither do you.”

He didn’t have time to respond before she disappeared between a couple of people thrusting homemade signs toward her and screaming in her face. Somehow, she managed to ignore them.

“Bakugou,” Ashido said, reaching for his hand again, but he moved away before she could take it. He had no time for sympathy. He had to put an end to this. Now. He refused to let them tear down his entire world. Not like this.

It took all day. Once the ambulances on this side of town had all been used up, they sent some from the next closest hospital. Civilians who were too injured to be healed by those with healing Quirks were carted away, while others were tended to at a triage center outside the barricades. At least twenty-five people were arrested before the rioters started growing tired of being there, but still many of them fought on, tossing out insults at every passing hero and Commission member they could find. He heard Kirishima’s name more than a few times, but he couldn’t be bothered to listen to what they were saying, couldn’t let himself fall into that pit of despair if he thought about it too much. He didn’t want to think at all. So he threw punches where they were needed, rescued civilians that were being trampled, helped people get to the triage center to tend their wounds, calmed those who were crying, those who were in the midst of panic attacks. He spoke to journalists, helped them get out of the way, calmed the flames that were surely burning through every news station, every online blog, every social media site that existed right now. There was no telling what sorts of stories they were spreading, what statements they were getting from the angry rioters.

Kirishima’s name came up more than he liked. He always changed the subject whenever he could.

It wasn’t until Todoroki showed up close to sunset when the rioting started to calm down. Either everyone was too afraid of his Quirk or they were too busy staring at him and falling in love with him like people often did, but they got out of his way, they let him do his job. And when Deku showed up, it was all over. It seemed like people didn’t want to fight against him or insult him. They actually cheered when he showed up, as if he wasn’t the number one person in the society they hated so much, as if he wasn’t the darling of the Commission, the one following every single one of their rules without question.

Of course, he hadn’t always been like that. He had once been Quirkless like so many of them were. And he’d never abandoned or forsaken anyone on the outskirts of society, those in need of assistance, those that were tossed to the wolves. He did everything he could to help everyone. Like a damn saint. And he always had the exact right thing to say. All he had to do was open his mouth, and all of these people just bowed to his will. So many of them agreed to a peaceful meeting, a press conference, where they could ask their questions and the heroes could answer them. They were okay with giving up their fight, forgetting what they were even fighting for to begin with.

It was infuriating.

“Good job, Izuku,” one of the Commission members – a man by the name of Hirabayashi Eito, if Bakugou remembered correctly – said as he clapped the hero on the shoulder, then bowed to him. “We are extremely grateful to you. Suggesting a press conference was the smartest thing you could have done. That way, we have a bit more control over the narrative. We can easily fix this.”

“I hope so,” Deku replied, pulling Uraraka close to him and sliding his hand into hers. “I’d like to avoid more violence in the future. A lot of people got hurt today.”

“Yes. Avoiding violence is our main priority.”

Bakugou scoffed and rolled his eyes. He didn’t believe the man for a second. He couldn’t believe anyone anymore. Deku and Uraraka were standing right in front of him right now pretending to be such a cute, happy couple with a baby on the way, lying to cover the tracks of their employers. And for what? What were they gaining from this?

They were getting to stay heroes, he reminded himself. They got to keep their licenses, they got to keep on living. No one was staging an unfortunate accident, like they had threatened Kirishima with.

“How are you doing?” Bakugou asked, genuinely curious, genuinely caring for Uraraka’s well-being, but he hoped by bringing it up in front of both of them now, one of them would give something away. After all, he’d known Deku his entire life. Surely he would be able to see if there was something wrong with him.

“I’m okay,” Uraraka replied, brushing hair out of her face. “A little tired, but I’m managing.” She placed a hand on her stomach, and Bakugou’s gaze snapped up to meet her eyes, waiting, accusing. She gave him absolutely nothing.

“I haven’t gotten to talk to you much since the announcement,” Bakugou said, instead turning his attention to Deku. “Congratulations, if I haven’t said it already. Are you excited?”

Deku’s cheeks were slightly pink, but Bakugou couldn’t be sure that was a sign of anything. They had all been exerting a lot of energy, after all. “Of course I’m excited! When I told Mom, she cried so much. She’s already started buying clothes and toys. I think she’s rearranging my room and turning it into a room for the baby. She’s keeping most of my All Might stuff, though.”

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He waited a beat, hoping that their eyes or any slightly off-putting movement would betray them, but they were too good. They had been skillfully trained to lie.

Or maybe Kirishima was wrong about the Commission staging an accident. Maybe Bakugou was being paranoid. Maybe they actually were having a baby.

It was just too oddly convenient.

“You can have some of my All Might stuff too,” he finally offered. “Just old shirts and stuff from when we were kids, maybe a few toys I can find at my parents’ house. I don’t have any use for them.”

“But what if you –” Uraraka started, then quickly shut her mouth and averted her gaze. The air felt thick, suffocating for a moment as they stood in silence. Finally, Uraraka murmured, “I’m so sorry…”

“It’s okay,” he said, and really, it was. “I should give my stuff to someone who needs it. Even my super rare collectibles. They don’t do much good sitting on my shelves at Mitsuki’s and gathering dust.”

Deku eyed him suspiciously, then smiled. “Well, thanks, Kacchan. That’s really nice of you.”

He grunted. “Don’t get used to it.”

So his mission failed. He was starting to believe that he was severely overthinking things, that not every little detail of his friends’ lives was some sort of conspiracy.

“Do you want to come over for dinner?” Uraraka asked. “I know we’re all tired, so we can order some pizza.”

He wanted to accept. Not just to do some more investigating, but because it had been a while since he’d spent time with either of them, and despite being annoyed with them ninety-eight percent of the time, he actually kind of liked them. But he remembered that he left Kirishima in the apartment, and he was worried that if he waited too long, he might come back to find the place empty. Kirishima had things to do too, and if Bakugou wasn’t there to stop him, he could easily slip back into the shadows and disappear into his secret life. And then how was he supposed to find him? Would Kirishima actually leave without saying goodbye and make him worry yet again?

He didn’t want to risk it. And besides, they had a lot to discuss. They had news sites to browse, stories to compare. “I would, but I think I should get home. I’m exhausted. I think I’m just going straight to bed.”

Uraraka frowned, and she and Deku looked at each other in that meaningful way that Bakugou absolutely hated, like they were having a silent conversation without including him. Then Deku sighed and said, “You’ve been spending a lot of time alone lately. And with everything going on, it might be a good idea –”

“I’m fine,” Bakugou hissed through gritted teeth. “When I’m ready to hang out with people, I’ll hang out with people. Tonight, I want to sleep, or is that a fucking crime?”

“No, you can sleep,” Deku said slowly, like he was treading carefully across broken glass. “We should probably get some sleep too. Maybe some other time, then?”

Bakugou nodded. He was glad he had always been a recluse, so people didn’t question his behavior too much. He wasn’t sure how he would be able to hide his double life any other way.

“Thanks for all your help today,” Uraraka said. “I assume you’ll be at the press conference?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Of course, he already knew it would be a disaster. But it really would raise red flags if he didn’t show up for that.

He ran into Todoroki on his way to his apartment. He was doing an interview with a journalist and charming her pants off by being the single most awkward human being on the planet. Todoroki waved at him, his sleeve sliding up just slightly. There were new beads on his bracelet. Bakugou held his gaze for a long moment, then waved back and walked away.

The apartment was incredibly still and quiet when Bakugou got back. His immediate thought was that Kirishima had left, and his heart started thumping faster as he hurried to get out of his bulky gear and look around for him. He paused at the balcony, watching the sun dip behind the buildings and cast a fiery glow across the town. There didn't seem to be any sign of Kirishima trying to hurt himself, but that didn't mean it was impossible.

He heard Mango meowing somewhere and followed the sound of it, his throat going dry and his pulse quickening with each footstep. But there was so sign of a struggle, no sign of disaster. He pushed the door to the bedroom open rather violently in a hurry to get in, to make sure that everything was okay. The door slammed into the wall, and he crossed the threshold in a panic, preparing himself for the worst…

But Kirishima was just lying in bed with Mango curled up next to his head. It looked like he was still struggling to wake up from a nap. Bakugou forced himself to swallow the fear as Kirishima looked at him with sleep-dazed eyes and smiled, and he let out the breath he'd been holding.

"How did it go?" Kirishima asked.

Bakugou curled his hand into a fist, letting his nails dig into his skin as he tried to make himself calm down. Kirishima was here. He was fine. Everything inside these walls was safe. He didn't have to worry about his friends or civilians getting hurt. It was over.

"Terrible," Bakugou replied. "There was this guy who knew me…from back when we were kids. Apparently he's been holding a grudge."

Kirishima pushed himself up to a sitting position, his eyebrows creasing with concern. "Why? What happened?"

Bakugou shrugged. "I don't know. I guess for some reason I ditched him because I didn't think he was worth my time. But I don't remember him at all." He sat down at the foot of the bed, and all of the exhaustion from the afternoon struck him at once. He wanted to sleep. But there was too much to do, too many things to discuss. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, never better." Kirishima flipped so that he was on his stomach. He took Bakugou’s hand and squeezed it in his own, then brought it to his lips and placed gentle kisses over his knuckles. "I've been watching the news. The big riot broke up, but there are still groups around town causing trouble. I think one group set a fire at a school, but someone put it out before it did too much damage."

Bakugou blew out a breath as he kicked off his shoes. "People are upset."

"They should be. Did you know that they're meeting in a few days to vote on signing Quirk marriages into law?"

Bakugou’s stomach flipped. How had that news slipped past him? That seemed like something that should have been the headline on every news station out there, but he hadn't seen anything about it. They'd gotten so far in the process, and so fast. What did that mean for him if they voted to make it law? He couldn't stay here. He couldn't continue working for people who felt the need to play with citizens' DNA like it was some sort of puzzle game.

But what did that mean for his hero career?

"They've got a lot of people scared, Kats. It might have seemed like there were a lot of rioters today, but they're nothing compared to the people who think the heroes' family lines are ending." He sighed. A strand of dark hair fluttered off his face, then promptly fell back into his eyes. "I don't know why they would think that. I mean, I guess there are so many people marrying for love and not for Quirks now, and their Quirks just aren't compatible with one another."

Bakugou thought of Uraraka and Deku, standing there together so perfect and pristine, not a single damn thing to worry about. No sign there was any stress, any sort of problem. He wondered what Quirk they would produce, if there would be any at all, if it would be good enough for the Commission to raise as their own to become a hero.

"I guess that would be kind of like if you and…Tsu or someone got together," Kirishima said with a laugh. "I mean, what would that do? Make exploding frogs?"

Bakugou didn't laugh. He didn't think any of this was funny. Hell, even without his PR manager breathing down his neck, he still felt like he was being watched, monitored. He still felt like they had something on him. He still felt like he was nothing but genes to pass on in their eyes. Were they planning something for him now? Would they somehow find a way to manipulate him too?

Everyone had their breaking point. He was almost certain they had already found his.

"Hey, today wasn't a total bust for me," Kirishima said, rolling over to the nightstand. "I got this." He opened up a drawer and dug around in it for a second before extracting a file and tossing it onto the bed.

"What is it?" Bakugou asked, picking up the folder and examining it carefully as if it might explode in his face. It was just a plain manila folder stuffed full of paper.

"Every last bit of information they have on Todoroki," Kirishima said, his eyes gleaming brightly with pride.

"How the hell did you get this?" Bakugou opened it up and stared at the front page, labeled with Todoroki’s name and a picture from his hero license, along with his height, weight, date of birth, address, and other basic information.

Kirishima shrugged nonchalantly. "Easy. The riots scared the Commission employees, so they all went home and left the office completely empty except for a few security guards and passcodes. I would have gotten more, but the alarms started going off, so I thought they might suspect someone was in the building. This should at least give us some answers though."

Bakugou stared at Todoroki’s face until it became a blur. What else did they need to know? They had already guessed he was being whored out, whether he wanted to admit it or not, and that information hadn't proven exceptionally helpful to them so far.

But still…

He flipped to the next page. A copy of his birth certificate. Medical records from when he was a child. Vaccines. Sick visits. So many visits to the hospital. School records. He'd always been a perfect student. Ads he'd appeared in, transcripts of interviews he had done. Bakugou paused here and there to read some of them, but they were shallow, inconsistent, giving nothing away.

They had brief bios of his family in there as well. Todoroki Rei, a summary of her trauma and her hospital stay. Todoroki Enji, the infamous Endeavor who had finally decided to settle down and retire. Todoroki Fuyumi, information about her work schedule and some scribbled notes about some students they predicted might excel. Todoroki Natsuo…

This one gave him pause. There was something there that didn't quite look right. Of course, he knew Natsuo had attended university and now worked in the medical field. He knew he had moved away to escape the trauma from his past and the troubles that continued to fester within their family. But after that, he had no clue.

Here, they had a family listed for Natsuo: a husband and two children. Twins. A boy and a girl.

Strange. He hadn't known Natsuo was the settling down type.

"Did you know Icy Hot's brother had a family?" he asked.

There were pictures too. He could almost see some of Natsuo's features in their faces, though they had brightly colored red and black hair. The girl had freckles. The boy had green eyes. They both had Quirks.

Fire Quirks.

Ridiculously strong fire Quirks.

The kind that Endeavor had been searching for with each child he had, none of them quite good enough until Icy Hot came around.

"No, I didn't," Kirishima replied, leaning over Bakugou’s shoulder to stare at the pictures. "You think that's important?"

"I think it's a motive," Bakugou replied. His grip had tightened on the folder, his knuckles turning white. "Natsuo moved away. I don't think he wanted anything following him. Endeavor might have changed his ways and tried to become a perfect father figure again, but if any of those three hate him, it's Natsuo. He wouldn't want his dad to know if he had a family. Especially if they had better Quirks than him."

Kirishima was silent for a long moment as he read over the papers. Bakugou could feel his breath against his skin, and his heart rate started to pick up with each passing second. It was too much. He was feeling everything and nothing all at once. Fear gripped him like a wave dragging him to the ocean floor as he scanned over the information about Natsuo's family: their jobs, the daycare the kids stayed at, their many addresses they had had over the past two years.

And then it hit him. Maybe he wasn't just trying to protect them from Endeavor. Maybe he was protecting them from the Commission as well.

"If they're as strong as it says they are," Kirishima finally said, "then the Commission probably has eyes on them. They had Endeavor, and now they have Shouto. It would look really good for them to eventually have more in the family."

"Exactly what I was thinking."

"And Natsuo wouldn't want anything to do with pro hero stuff."

"The Commission doesn't care."

"So Shouto does what the Commission tells him, and things stay as they are. If he doesn't, the secret's out, and we've got more little Todoroki heroes to look forward to."

Bakugou flipped to the next page. He had always dreamed of being a hero, just like All Might. But that didn't mean every kid had that dream. Even if they had the Quirk to support it. Natsuo was protecting his kids, and in turn, Icy Hot was protecting his brother.

He wondered what the others were protecting.

“It’s all just one massive lie,” he said, shaking his head as he flipped the page again. “And they push and push and push until we don’t know what’s true and what isn’t. Maybe they all think they’re protecting something, but if we all got together and did something –”

“It’s different when they have the target on your family and friends,” Kirishima said, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper. “I would have said something a long time ago if I knew you and my moms were completely safe.”

“And how the fuck is this Quirk marriage bullshit supposed to work?” Bakugou stared down at the list of eligible bachelorettes for Icy Hot that was so carefully tucked away in his file. Some of them had been marked out – Yaomomo, for instance, and Jirou. Some names he recognized, others he did not. Each name had a Quirk listed, as well as predicted Quirks they could produce. There were numbers and symbols and statistics that he could not make sense of, no matter how long he stared at it. Clearly, the Commission had taken this very seriously from the beginning.

God, maybe they were researching them before they even graduated. Were they already planning their futures for them?

“Did you ever see your file?” he asked. His voice was shaking only slightly, but Kirishima heard the fear and immediately wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him tightly to his chest.

“No,” he replied. “I didn’t want to.”

The next few pages were schedules, each page a different month. It started last year in the summer and went all the way until next month. Some days were crossed out, others were highlighted. Different colors. He wondered if it was just convenience or if there was some sort of color code. There were names written in some blocks. Some days there were multiple names. He recognized a few of them: Chinen Fumiko, a prominent name in hero technology; Igarashi Jin, a local politician; Masaki Isamu, a well-known lawyer that took on cases for incarcerated villains in Tartarus. There was a schedule of who he was supposed to meet and when. If word got out about this, these people’s careers would surely be over. Their families would be torn apart.

And Todoroki…god, would anyone even feel sorry for him? Would anyone even care?

“They’re making money off of him in exchange for keeping his secrets and his family safe.” Bakugou felt like he was going to be sick. He slammed the folder shut and tossed it across the room like it was a bomb about to explode. He could have screamed, but for once in his life he kept silent. He was afraid of who was listening, of what they were seeing through these thin walls of his apartment. Was he in danger of being forced into Todoroki’s position?

He got up abruptly, not knowing where he was going, only knowing that he needed to go. He pulled on his boots, barely able to make himself stop moving long enough, then grabbed a jacket. Kirishima was close to him the whole time, begging him to slow down, to stop, to let him know how he was feeling, but the truth was that he didn’t know how he was feeling. Because right now he wasn’t feeling anything at all. It was like a bad dream, one that he just hadn’t been able to shake himself awake from.

“Kats, where are you going?” Kirishima asked as he grabbed his keys from the hook and shoved them into his pocket. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought that home. I thought that maybe –”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t, but he was sure they both knew he was lying. “I just need a little bit of air. I’ll be back soon, I promise. I’m just going for a walk.”

Kirishima looked as if he was going to protest, but he slowly backed off and then nodded. They stared at each other for a long moment – words forming behind their lips but never finding their way into the open – before Bakugou walked out the door.

He was at the end of his block when he got the text from Kaminari.

Hey, Bakubro. I think I kind of fucked up. I don’t think they’re gonna let me be a hero anymore.

His brow furrowed as he started to type out a reply, but a notification from Hero Lines Network answered his question first.

Somehow, the public now knew that Kaminari and Shinsou were dating. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, it shouldn’t – but god, after everything the Commission had done to try to cover it up, to cultivate their own image of their pro heroes, Bakugou feared that Kaminari was correct. The question now was what would they do to stop it.

Chapter Text

“I can’t go out there.”

“Well, you can’t hide back here.”

“Yes, I can. You can’t stop me!”

Bakugou sighed as Kaminari turned and tried to walk away from him. He swiftly grabbed him and jerked him back to where he was standing with Sero and Ashido. Shinsou was nowhere to be seen. “Don’t you think you’re gonna make it so much worse if you keep hiding?”

Kaminari blinked, as if momentarily confused by the question, then shook his head. “If I hide for the rest of my life, then it doesn’t matter, right?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Bakugou rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to argue, but Ashido beat him to it.

“Denki, this isn’t like you. You’ve never wanted to hide from anything. You’ve always been so open and proud of who you are. What happened?”

The question didn’t really need to be answered; they knew exactly what had happened. Kaminari had them all over the day after the news leaked to share the story.

“I was a little bit drunk, and we were fighting, but nothing too serious,” he’d said. “And I was just so angry because we wouldn’t be fighting if we could all just be open and honest with each other. So I posted some pictures online of the two of us, and…I took them down a few seconds later! But apparently I wasn’t fast enough, because someone else was already posting them, and…it’s my fault. The Commission is going to fucking kill me.”

Shinsou had been gone for three days, and no one had heard from him. None of them thought it was his choice to go.

“Come on, man,” Sero said, sounding entirely exhausted. It looked like he hadn’t been sleeping well, but then again, none of them had been. “If anyone asks, just tell it like it is. That’s all you can do.”

“They don’t want me to do that. My manager…they’re trying to spin a different story, something with Kyouka. I don’t know. Maybe it’s better that way –”

“No the fuck it’s not,” Bakugou said. “Listen, I don’t care about your relationships or any of that bullshit, but you should be allowed to do whatever the fuck you want. Did they tell you they were taking your license away?”

“Well, no. But –”

“Then do whatever the fuck you want! They can’t control every aspect of our lives.”

Ashido nodded as Sero gave Kaminari an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Yeah, and we’ll be right there to support you if things get out of hand,” she said with a smile. “You’re never going to be alone.”

She glanced up at Bakugou then, and something strange passed between the two of them, something he couldn’t quite explain. It was as if she was speaking to him as well, and he wondered how much she actually knew. He remembered how angry he had gotten with her for keeping it a secret that she'd had contact with Kirishima, and now he was doing the same thing to them.

He would tell them soon. When the time was right.

“We should go ahead and grab a seat before all the good ones are taken,” Ashido said, sliding her hand into Kaminari’s. She gave him an encouraging squeeze and a smile and pulled him forward, to a stage full of heroes and an auditorium full of angry civilians calling for their downfall.

Not all the heroes who were invited had shown up yet, but there was already a crowd spilling out the doors, shouting and pushing and waving their signs around. Police stood in front of a barrier trying to keep them under control, but they were quickly losing their power. The Commission members who had bothered to attend were set up at the forefront of the stage, looking entirely unbothered by the commotion around them. The few heroes who had decided to show up were looking rather antsy and squirming in their seats.

“Chargebolt! Chargebolt! Can we get a statement about the pictures posted online –”

Bakugou stepped in front of his friend, shielding him from the reporters who were clamoring over each other trying to get their next big story. They continued shouting, but at least they wouldn’t get the pictures and videos that they so desired.

He found a spot next to Deku and Uraraka on the stage, taking a seat to Deku’s left while his friends filled in the next few seats. He glanced over at them just to make sure that Kaminari wasn’t having another meltdown, but he noticed something far more interesting.

It was only a brief second. If someone wasn’t paying an excruciating amount of attention, it would have gone unnoticed. But Bakugou saw. It seemed like he was seeing lots of things he wasn’t supposed to see nowadays. Sero taking a seat next to Icy Hot. Sero’s hand brushing against his just slightly before drawing away. They didn’t even look at each other.

It could have been an accident. He could be drawing unfair conclusions. But he didn’t think so. He was almost one hundred percent certain there was something going on there that he wasn’t supposed to see.
“How are you doing today?” Uraraka asked him, reaching across Deku to poke at his arm. She offered him a warm smile. Her brown eyes were tired. Deku looked equally as exhausted. They probably all were.

“Annoyed,” he replied, leaning back in his chair in the most indignant way possible. “Don’t really want to be here. This isn’t going to accomplish anything.”

Deku frowned, brushing some of his hair out of his face. “We have to at least try, Kacchan.”

There were reporters still screaming at them, protestors lining up at the mics set up in front of the stage to ask their questions and spit their venom at the heroes they used to admire. He was certain the auditorium was filled to capacity and there were still people shoving themselves through the narrow doors. If any type of emergency happened, they would be fucked, but no one seemed to care. He was already assessing emergency exits and making note of where all the heroes were sitting just in case someone decided to set off a bomb or something. This would be a perfect place to set off a bomb.

A woman from the Commission rose from her seat at the front of the stage, clearing her throat into her mic so loudly that it echoed off the walls. It did nothing to stop the noise. “Let’s get started, shall we? We’ll take one question at a time. Please state your name and who your question is directed at before proceeding. We can start over here.” She gestured to the mic on their far left, where a young woman with floor-length blonde hair stood.

“Yes, hi,” the young woman said, and the microphone screeched in return. She made an embarrassed sort of gasp, then backed off. “My name is Hayden Bellevue. I’m an exchange student that’s only been in Japan for a few months, but I’ve been keeping up with Japanese pro heroes for years.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and glanced up at the heroes on stage. “I know this probably isn’t where you wanted the conference to start, but a lot of us have been wanting to know, and how are we supposed to trust heroes if you’re all keeping secrets from us?” Her eyes moved to where Bakugou was seated, though he couldn’t be quite certain if she was looking straight at him. “This question is for Chargebolt. Your name has been in the news a lot the past few days, and you still haven’t issued any sort of statement on what’s going on? Care to make a statement now?”

There were still people yelling and pushing, but there was a hush that fell over the auditorium that hadn’t been there before. People were listening. The reporters had their recorders out. Cameras were pointed in their direction. For half a second, it seemed like none of the heroes on stage were moving or even breathing. Then Bakugou looked at Kaminari, and he saw Ashido take his hand in hers, holding it tightly. She nodded in encouragement. Kaminari looked like he was going to be sick.

“Um…well. There isn’t much to say, really.” He chuckled dryly, and Bakugou knew whatever was about to come out of his mouth was a carefully crafted lie that his manager had come up with for him. There was no light in his eyes, no humor. No hint of the Kaminari he had gone to school with. “Hito – Shinsou and I are roommates, and we were being a little irresponsible after a hard shift. We got drunk and thought it would be funny to mess with people. I backtracked at the last second, but it was too late, and now there are a lot of rumors flying around that just aren’t true. It was a stupid joke, and I’m sorry.”

The girl raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. The carefully crafted lie wasn’t enough. “And where is he? Why isn’t he here?”

Kaminari licked his lips. Ashido held him tighter. “He’s…gone for now. It’s been a hard year. He needed some time away. Maybe a week or two. He’ll be back.”

Hayden Bellevue didn’t look impressed. She frowned, then blew out a breath and went back to her seat. Obviously not the answer she was looking for. None of them were going to be getting the answers they were looking for.

So it went for another hour. Most of the people at the mics did not have questions but wanted to yell a bunch of profanities and insults at all of them until security escorted them away. At least then they felt like they were accomplishing something. The words rolled off of Bakugou for the most part, but he still remembered the people he hurt in the past, wondered if the guy he had ditched when they were barely old enough to read was in the room or if he had earned more time in a jail cell. He glanced at Deku next to him, his cheeks red from the shame of having to answer to the very people he swore to protect at the press conference he had suggested. The fatigue was weighing on him. He would crash soon.

“I just want to know,” some guy was saying, “what makes a person a hero? Why are some people born with Quirks that are better, and why is society so cruel to the ones who don’t have that sort of power? What makes you all think that just because your Quirk is better that you are better?”

Iida pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and started to speak, but Deku answered for him, probably in a much more polite tone than Iida would have managed. Deku was always good at taking abuse and foul words. Almost one hundred percent thanks to Bakugou.

“Heroes aren’t just people who fight off the bad guys with their impressive Quirks. Heroes are the people that show up to the crime scene ready to tend to the wounded. They’re the people that work at the hospital for sixteen hours straight because there’s been some crisis and they’re running on two hours of sleep but people need them. They’re the firefighters that save people from burning buildings. They’re the teachers that shape us when we’re kids and the ones that throw themselves in front of us constantly to protect us from danger. They’re the parents that raise their kids the best way they know how. They’re the civilians who call for help when someone is in danger, the innocent bystander who distracts the criminal and protects those around them while they wait for help to arrive. I guess what I’m getting at is…everyone can be a hero. And no one is better than anyone else. People have different talents, and I’m so sorry that society continues to fail you and make you feel like you’re not worth more. I agree that something needs to change, and we are more than open to hearing your suggestions and your comments.”

That was the quietest the crowd had gotten the entire conference. There were whispers here and there, along with a few shouts from the back. But there was also a smattering of applause here and there, hesitant, but agreeable. The public always seemed to be on board with anything Deku had to say. He was good at relating to them, because he had been in their shoes. He knew what it was like to feel like he was worth nothing.

Because of Bakugou.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” the Commission woman said, rising from her seat again. “And there will be change in the future, I assure you. Now, we have time for one more question before we let our heroes take a short break. We’ll reconvene after, say, half an hour?” She gestured to a woman at the last mic. “What’s your question, dear?”

“Hello, my name is Kaneko Haru.” Her voice was shaky. Everything about her was tense and drawn, as if she was a rubber band waiting to snap. “My question is for Dynamight.”

Bakugou felt his stomach drop. He had been lucky not to get personally addressed the entire time, and he thought he would make it to the end. But he hadn’t gotten that lucky in a long, long time. He sat up, gazing at her with an intensity that apparently made her back up, close to the person behind her. He waited, and the silence felt like it dragged on for hours.

“Um…I–I was just wondering about your partnership with Red Riot. What went wrong? Were there any signs that he would turn against you and the entire pro hero community? Do you think you could have stopped it?”

There were too many eyes on him. This wasn’t the attention that he liked. He could feel the Commission members turning in their seats, the other heroes holding their breath and waiting for him to say the most out of pocket shit he could manage. But he couldn’t speak. It felt like there was ice flooding his lungs, and the room was hot, so hot, and he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to speak again.

He should have known Kirishima would come up somehow. He just didn’t have any answers.

“I...I think…” God, he had never sounded so nervous in his life. Would they even listen to anything that he said? His confidence was sapped, his energy drained. He wasn’t sure he could come back after the break. “There are certain things that can factor into someone turning against the society that worked so well for them. Red Riot was on his way to the top ten, and he…” He swallowed hard. He could be honest. He could spill all of the dirty little details about the Commission and their mission to suppress Kirishima’s big personality, to turn him into someone he wasn’t. But they were watching him. Waiting for him to fuck up. His entire career hinged on this moment. “He was very good at keeping secrets. I never saw it coming. But maybe there were hints along the way, and I just wasn’t paying enough attention. For that, I…I failed as a hero, and we’re all having to pay for it now. We will catch him, and we’ll bring him to justice.”

There were boos from the crowd. Somewhere deep inside, he had expected that. There were too many people on his side, too many people willing to give up everything to fight for a world that Kirishima had been so optimistic to see. A world that had failed him and turned its back on him and made him a shadow of the person he once was. The same world that was killing Kaminari and would eventually kill him too.

“Can I ask a follow-up question?” Haru asked, and before waiting for a response, she proceeded. “There was an interview two or three years ago that was written up on a small blog that I followed with Red Riot. It somehow got lost in the mix of things, but I remember reading it, and I remember him saying that he was insanely in love with you and would do anything he could to fight by your side for the rest of his life. He said that ever since he’d met you, your relationship had run deeper than a hero and his sidekick. He said it was love at first sight for him. And if all of that is true, then why did you not see it coming? Why did he betray you?”

There was nothing that could have prepared him for this. Even as Ashido leaned closer to him and whispered encouragements, even as Deku tried to take the mic from him and gain control of the situation as he sat there frozen, speechless. Even as the Commission woman thanked the girl for her time and urged the heroes to exit the stage as soon as possible. The loud insults returned, and Bakugou could barely breathe. He wasn’t even sure how he got to his feet, how he managed to get off the stage, but he could see Kaneko Haru’s eyes boring into him, the accusations like daggers stabbing into his flesh. He could see the unspoken question on her face, the one he had tried and failed to run away from ever since Kirishima returned.

Why? Why did you let them do this to him?

Kaminari was crying.

Bakugou had seen him cry exactly one time since he’d known him, and it was the day he found out Kirishima was gone. But now he was in the back hallway where the screams from outside were muffled but still audible, and he was crying, and Bakugou had no idea what to do about it. It always made him uncomfortable to see people cry. Luckily, Ashido was better at damage control than he was. She was seated on the floor next to him, cradling his head close to her shoulder and running her fingers through his hair. When she saw Bakugou approach, she offered a sad smile, but he was sure she had nothing to say. Neither did he.

“Clearly we’re not really needed here,” Sero said, leaning against the wall opposite them. “Why don’t we just blow this thing off and go get a drink?”

“That’s the best damn thing I’ve ever heard you suggest,” Bakugou replied.

“Bakugou…”

He glanced over at Ashido, and he knew from the moment their eyes connected that she knew something. But how could he explain everything to her? How could he even begin to tell her about the things he had learned, the things he had seen? How did he know they weren’t trying to take control of something in her life? As unmanageable as Ashido was, he knew she could only fight for so long. Just like Todoroki had. Just like Kirishima had.

He blew out a breath, shoving his hands into his pockets as he debated how to start the conversation without grabbing some unwanted attention.

Then the explosions went off.

It was impressive how fast everyone around him switched into hero mode. Immediately, his colleagues were leaving the safety of the back hallways to get to the crowd out front, who were no doubt rushing the doors and trampling each other in an attempt to escape.

Another explosion went off.

“I knew this was going to happen,” he muttered under his breath, shoving past a couple that had given up on trying to get out the front doors and were using the emergency exits.

“How?” Tsu asked as she propelled herself into the air and her tongue shot out to grab an injured civilian. The man screamed as she brought him toward her, then gently set him out of the way of the terrified crowd. She tore off the bottom part of her dress and used it to wrap his arm. “Keep pressure on that, okay?”

“This is the perfect place for an attack,” Bakugou answered, watching as two men trampled a small girl and shoved her into one of the auditorium seats. He wasn’t quick enough to get to her, but she didn’t seem to be hurt. He offered a hand, and she looked up at him with teary eyes as she took it and let him guide her to safety. “If I were a villain, I would want to attack at a place where hundreds, if not thousands of people were gathered.”

“But we’re all here –”

“Doesn’t matter. He’s that confident, whoever it is.”

Tsu grabbed a broken chair with her tongue and held it up to shield them, along with a few civilians, as another explosion went off. “You don’t think…?”

“Absolutely not.” He knew where Kirishima was, and even if he didn’t, he would never ever believe him capable of this.

“You sure have a lot of confidence in that.”

“Don’t you?” It was complete chaos all around them. He could barely move, much less get to the injured. His Quirk was not useful with this many people pressing in around him. He felt useless. “You know him. You went to school with him. You know that he wouldn’t –”

“I don’t know anything anymore, Bakugou.”

She was gone before he could even respond. Somewhere he heard electricity crackling, but he couldn’t find his friends. All he could see was innocent civilians floating in the air thanks to Uraraka, kept far away from a massive hole that had been blown in the floor. He spotted Deku on the edge of it, holding a hand down to people who had fallen. The walls were coated in ice where more holes had been busted through the bricks and fires were smoldering. The thick smell of blood wafted toward him as he heard the pleas for help from all around him. So many people to save he didn’t even know where to start.

“Bakugou!” Yaomomo was waving him over from where she stood, producing bandages and tourniquets and ice packs and blankets for survivors who were too injured to leave her line of sight. He could already see a few bodies lying sprawled on the ground, their skin melted away, shrapnel protruding from different areas of their bodies. “Help me out here? Get these people to Sero so he can get them out of the building.”

He immediately moved into action, grabbing a little boy and his mother and tossing them up to Sero, suspended from the rafters. He caught them easily, wrapping them tightly in his tape as he swung through the auditorium to safety. But there were too many people. He couldn’t just wait for Sero to come back. And other people were occupied. Todoroki was literally sliding civilians across ice to get them to another hero to escort them out. Ojiro had a weeping child wrapped by his tail and was hopping from seat to seat toward an exit.

And then another explosion rocked through the building. It was loud, louder than any sound Bakugou had ever produced, and it made him waver on his feet a bit. Then the screams began, bloodcurdling and sharp, and bits of the ceiling rained down all around them. Along with body parts. Oh god, oh fuck, there was a severed arm in front of him, and there were fires breaking out all across the room, and somewhere above all the rest of the noise, he thought he heard a familiar scream.

He looked up. Sunlight was streaming down on them almost mockingly, and the people Uraraka had suspended in the air were all gone. He was sure that the arm in front of him belonged to one of them. The rest of the body could be anywhere.

Uraraka was on her knees on the ground, her fingers steepled and her eyes glazed over. In shock. He had seen it time and time again.

“Come on,” he said, gently, not touching her in case it frightened her out of her daze. He could see tears brimming in the corners of her eyes, and he felt a pang of sorrow like a black hole, sucking all of the joy out of the world. “Ochako, come on. We can’t stop now. There are people that need us.”

“Th–they needed me…”

“You can do it, Uravity.” The little boy Bakugou had held his hand out to Uraraka. His chubby face was red and tear-stained, but he gave her a smile, and instantly, she snapped back to reality. She wiped her face, smudged in blood and soot, then took the little boy’s hand and rose to her feet. She had other people in the air in no time – including the boy and his mom – floating them out the hole in the roof with her, where she would help them reach the ground. Hopefully, emergency services would be waiting for them.

Bodies were everywhere. He couldn’t tell if some of them were dead or unconscious. There was no time to assess right now. He had to focus on the ones he knew were alive and could get themselves out.

He picked up a teenage girl who was sitting in the corner and rocking back and forth, having a panic attack. She had given up trying to get away, and when he grabbed her, she screamed and thrashed and tried to escape him, begging to be left behind, begging not to be made to fight. She was battered and bruised, and her sense of survival had vanished.

He would not let her die.

As he reached one of the emergency exits, he noticed a crumpled body on the ground amidst the chaos. Sero. He was bleeding from his temple, and his eyes were closed, his legs twisting at an odd angle. Bakugou felt acid rising in his throat, and he thought he was going to lose his lunch. His body froze for a solid second that dragged on like an eternity as the girl pounded against him, fighting to break free.

Civilians were the priority. That’s what he had always been taught. But still…

Please be okay. Please be okay. He would be back for him. Soon. He would get him to safety. They would all be in their own beds tonight, battle-weary but safe. He would return to Kirishima, and Sero would return to Todoroki, and Shinsou would come back from wherever he had disappeared to. It was going to be okay.

It had to be okay.

He managed to get outside along with some other civilians being hauled by other heroes. As he had predicted, there were several emergency triage areas that had been set up and were already tending the wounds of the injured. He helped the girl to one of them and immediately went back inside. The explosions had ended, it seemed, but there were still so many people they needed to get out.

Sero. He needed to get to Sero. But he wasn’t sure if…

Focus on the ones you know are alive. Help the survivors.

He felt so weak, so helpless. All this training that they had done, all of the death they had seen all around them ever since they were teenagers. And yet he still couldn’t stomach all of it. Each breath was like choking on sand, every step felt like he had rocks tied to his ankles and was being pulled down into deep water.

But he had to keep going. If Uraraka could stand up and do what had to be done, then he could too. He had to.

The building was completely destroyed. It was difficult digging through rubble and debris, hauling large slabs of rock and concrete off of people and helping them to their feet, assessing the damage, assuring them everything was going to be alright. How many times in his hero career had he promised it was going to be alright? And yet now, it tasted sour, like the biggest lie he had ever told. Nothing was ever going to be alright. Not ever again.

There was no way to identify some of the bodies, no way to guess how many had perished. They wouldn’t have an exact count for several days, and even then, it would still probably just be a guess. These people had shown up to question their favorite heroes, to demand justice, to ask for a better society for themselves and the ones they loved. And somehow, he and the rest of the pro heroes had failed them once again.

Some of the first responders managed to get to Sero before any of the heroes could. He was still breathing, but just barely, so he was hauled into one of the ambulances with some of the more injured of the civilians. A few other heroes were in bad shape, but at least their eyes were open.

“I’ll ride with him to the hospital,” Ashido told him and Kaminari as she climbed into the back of the ambulance. “I’ll keep you updated. Get there as soon as you can, okay?”

As the back doors closed, Bakugou turned his back on them and returned to the scene of the crime. Todoroki was standing on the sidewalk watching them, but once he noticed Bakugou looking back at him, he returned to moving debris.

Deku and a few of the other heroes were surveying the area, checking for any other potential threats. Others were helping at the triage centers. Bakugou returned to help Uraraka look for any survivors that might still be somewhere in the midst of the disaster. Uraraka’s cheeks were unusually pink, her eyes rimmed with red, but still she worked, not stopping for even a second. Knowing that if she did, she would lose herself. He wasn’t sure she would ever stop again.

It took hours, but once they were sure it was all over, once they had rescued everyone they could find, once the first responders and the shellshocked civilians cleared the area, Bakugou and Kaminari took a cab to the hospital, where Ashido had been sitting in the lobby, alone and scared, with no information except that Sero was in surgery, and there was a chance he might not make it.

“They found a huge piece of shrapnel in his chest,” she explained as they took seats next to her. There were tears in her eyes, and she looked so, so tired. “They said the way it’s lodged in there…there’s a chance –” She couldn’t finish as she broke into sobs, throwing herself into Kaminari’s outstretched arms. He was crying too, and Bakugou felt like shit that he wasn’t, but there’d been enough tears recently. He was all cried out. If Sero died…

Sero wouldn’t die. No one else was going to die.

The lobby was crowded. Several of the victims had been brought here, and families were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, pestering the nurses and demanding answers. Some of them hurled insults at the pro heroes seated in the corner, while others stopped to thank them for what they had done. They were filthy, covered in dust and blood, their clothes ripped and stained and their skin bruised and cut. And yet they were still better off than so many other people. So much better off than Sero.

The television was turned to one of the more popular news stations. They had been covering the bombing for hours, relaying the exact same information on a loop for people who were just tuning in. Bakugou kept his gaze on the screen, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He wished he could get in touch with Eijirou somehow, to tell him what had happened, to get some sort of reassurance. But there was no way of knowing where he was, what he was doing –

“A representative of the Hero Commission has informed us that this could be the work of former pro hero and now wanted villain Kirishima Eijirou, also known as Red Riot…”

His heart stopped, settling in his stomach like a massive stone. His grip on the chair tightened until his knuckles turned white and his hands shook. He thought he might explode, that the entire room might explode, but he couldn’t look away, he couldn’t tune it out.

“Civilians are asked to step forward with any information they might have about his whereabouts…”

He glanced beside him at Kaminari and Ashido, but they had both fallen asleep, Ashido’s head on Kaminari’s shoulder and his head resting on top of hers.

He had to make a plan. There was no time for delay anymore. If he wanted to stop this, he had to tell the truth. He had to get people talking. They couldn’t be afraid or threatened to share information anymore. He knew that he and Kirishima could not do this alone. So when Ashido and Kaminari woke up, he would tell them. And when Sero got out of surgery (and he would, alive and well), he would tell him too.

And then maybe they would run. They would run to wherever Shinsou had disappeared to. They would make new names for themselves, give themselves over to service without the fame.

He pulled out his phone, thought about texting Uraraka, thought about texting Todoroki, thought about just doing something to make someone feel better because he damn well couldn’t make himself feel better. But words failed him.

“...and what sort of information can you give us about the new Quirk marriage laws that are going into effect next week?”

“Well, Rin, I can assure you that they’ve been reviewed over and over again to make sure that what occurs from here on out is what’s best for improving our society…”