1

Drown In My
Ocean Of
Black Box
Dye

2
 Drown in my
ocean of black
box dye
By
Brigreenie

Distributed on Archives Of OurOwn

Published: 2021-03-06 Completed: 2021-04-14
Chapters: 14/14 Words: 41,792

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 Drown in my ocean
of black box dye

He clicked the pen his therapist had given him,

opening the first page. In big letters, he wrote,
“Reasons To Live: 1-100.”
Then, he flipped to the middle of the journal.
He paused, felt-tip inches from the page. This
was gonna be another mistake to add to his
long-running list, wasn’t it?
Caving, he put the pen to the page.
“Reasons to Die: 1-100.”
The idea was simple; old as time.
First to one hundred wins.

After being kicked from the friend group his

second year, radio silence from Bakugou over
the summer, and a suicide attempt, Kirishima
starts to spiral when he returns to UA.
Bakugou walks back into his life wanting to
know why his hair is black all of the sudden.
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 Out of all the reasons to
stay, you were my favorite.
- Kirishima

5
 Contents

CHAPTER I…………………………………………….07
CHAPTER ii…………………………………………..20
CHAPTER iii…………………………………………34
chapter iv…………………………………………48
chapter v…………………………………………..61
chapter vi…………………………………………76
chpater vii………………………………………..89
chapter viii……………………………………103
chapter ix……………………………………….117
chapter x…………………………………………130
chpater xi………………………………………..141
chapter xII……………………………………...157
chapter xiii…………………………………….171
chapter xiV……………………………………184

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 CHAPTER I

Reason #34 to Live: Today, a little girl in line at the restaurant

I stopped at pointed at me, then held up her shark toy. She had
a huge smile on her face with all these cute gaps.
Maybe the teeth aren’t so bad.

Kirishima Eijirou was not perfect.

Sometimes he wore the same shirt two days in a row, forgot
to brush his teeth in the morning, or didn’t leave the door
open for old ladies trying to get groceries.
Once, when he was fifteen, he threw a water bottle off the top
of a bridge above the freeway. It had hit a car windshield,
splattering so violently that the driver couldn’t see. The red
Camaro - yes, Kirishima remembered the exact car - swerved

7
and rear-ended a truck in the passing lane. He hadn’t told
anyone about the incident, choosing to keep the extremely bad
decision to himself.
Kirishima Eijirou made a lot of mistakes; he was willing to
admit that.
Oh, yeah.
Then, there was that time he slit his wrists in his bathtub.
It had been earlier that summer when he’d sunk so low he saw
no other escape. Yes, it hadn’t been his brightest moment,
perhaps one of the dumber things he’d done.
Kirishima didn’t know how to tell people that, at the time, that
did feel like the right decision. That all the life he had been
living was better being swept down the drain than wasted on
him. He was fine dying next to the shampoo bottles and last
standing rubber ducky from his childhood.
When he tried to express the feeling - the all-consuming black
sludge that dragged him down to the depths of hell - it always
came out as whining over his shitty friends, internship, or
self-worth issues.
Kirishima sunk back into the far too plush couch, eyes on his
punishment from the summer’s events.
“Kirishima,” his therapist, Ito, said. He leaned forward in his
seat, “What are you thinking about?”
“UA mostly,” Kirishima grumbled, uninterested in talking
further. The school had required him to take on therapy after
the ‘incident’, telling him he’d be expelled if he didn’t comply.
At first, he thought about telling them to suck his dick, but he
realized that he was in far too deep to just give up now.

8
Plus, that meant staying with his parents instead of at the
dorms. He couldn’t handle staring at the locked knife drawer
anymore.
Ito nodded, “That makes sense. Are you excited to see your
friends?”
“Friends,” Kirishima scoffed, digging his heel into the carpet,
“I don’t really have those.”
That had been true since Mina had confessed her feelings at
the end of their second year, under the dead cherry blossoms.
He had politely declined, but it didn’t matter. Mina took Sero
and Denki like they were a set of dogs in the middle of a
divorce.
As for Bakugou?
Kirishima had spent the first two weeks of summer trying to
get a response. He tried again after he got out of the hospital,
going so far as to call his parents.
There was a very uncomfortable voicemail on his phone to
prove it.
He didn’t know what he had done, but it was clear Bakugou
Katsuki wanted nothing to do with him. It was inevitable; he
and Midoriya had repaired their long-broken relationship.
What was the point in keeping Kirishima around if he had
Izuku?
He was reminded of the fact that Ito and his parents were the
only people he’d spoken to in months.
It made him feel like shit. Wiping at his eyes, he stood up, “I
don’t want to be here anymore.”
Ito seemed to be expecting that answer, “Please, I only have
one last thing.”

9
Kirishima rocked back on his heels, making no move to leave
as he waited. Ito dug through a mountain of papers to find
why lay underneath them. There was a black notebook.
Opening it, he handed it to Kirishima, who took it reluctantly.
He looked down at the blank pages, running a finger over
some of the paper, “What’s this?”
“It’s a journal,” Ito said, handing him a pen from his
cupholder, “Kirishima, I’m not stupid.”
Kirishima looked up, a bit confused by the accusation, “Did I
say you were?”
“No,” Ito said, reclining back into his chair, “but don’t act like
you’ve been invested in anything I have to say,” he cracked
the knuckles on one hand, “your inability to fix what you're
struggling with is just another form of self-harm. You think
you deserve to be depressed and isolated.”
Kirishima sighed, closing his very tired eyes. This guy was
always talking like he knew anything about Kirishima beyond
their hour a day. Besides, Ito was acting like he didn’t deserve
it, and he most certainly did. If his therapist really knew
anything about him, he’d see why he should be dead too.
“I can’t tell you that it’s not what you deserve because you
won’t believe me,” Ito continued, “but, in my absence, I’m
giving you a mandatory assignment. If you do not complete it,
I will have to turn you into the school.”
He was going to lose it on this guy, absolutely lose it.
“What’s the assignment?” He said through gritted teeth.
“By the end of the semester, you are to have one-hundred
reasons to live written down in there. I don’t care how you do
it. I don’t care if they are big or small reasons, as long as they
are reasons, that is enough.”

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“This is stupid,” Kirishima bit.
Why was he angry?
Ito was just trying to help him.
You don’t deserve help.
See, now you’re just proving him right.
“It probably is,” he said, a small smile on his face, “most of the
reasons people stay alive are stupid. Some people do it for their
cat or dog, others try to hold out until their favorite TV show
ends,” Ito cleared his throat, “When I tried to do it in high
school, I promised myself I wouldn’t attempt again until All
Might retired.”
Kirishima hated that this guy was so likable. He smiled a little,
“Yet, you’re still here.”
“Yes,” Ito said, shaking his head, “because high school me
died a long time ago.”
Attention on the journal, Kirishima sighed, “Do you think, one
day, high school me can die too?”
Ito smiled soft, “He’ll die on his own, I promise. Let’s not cut
off his life early, yeah?” Kirishima nodded, shoving the book
into his bag, “I’m serious about the journal. You’re going to
show me every update when you come in. Since you’re
starting school, we’re going to have to push your
appointments back to every three weeks.”
That was fine with Kirishima. He was getting kind of tired of
seeing this guy once a week, “Sure thing, Doctor Ito.”
Ito waved his hand around, “Just Ito, please. We’ve been over
this.”
Kirishima rolled his eyes in amusement, “It’s still funny.”

11
“You keep telling yourself that, Kirishima,” Ito said, smirking.
Suddenly, he looked like a thought struck him, “Oh, and
another thing.” Kirishima hummed in acknowledgment,
“Maybe you should change up your appearance. It might help
make you feel like… a different person than the one from this
summer,” Ito set a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “I’m not
saying it’ll fix everything, but it might help”
Kirishima pondered his words for a moment, mind wandering
back to the bathroom sink and the cabinet above, “I
understand.”
Ito had this warped look of concern heavy on his face,
“Alright… Goodbye, Kirishima.”
Kirishima left, backpack weighing him down. He looked
down at the journal as he stepped outside.
An idea came to mind as he opened the book.
Contrary to popular belief, Kirishima was very competitive;
he was a driven, goal-oriented person.
Also, he was a firm believer in races.
He clicked the pen Ito had given him, opening the first page.
In big letters, he wrote, “Reasons To Live: 1-100.”
Then, he flipped to the middle of the journal. He paused, felt-
tip inches from the page. This was gonna be another mistake
to add to his long-running list, wasn’t it?
Caving, he put the pen to the page.
“Reasons to Die: 1-100.”
The idea was simple; old as time.
First to one hundred wins.

12
He stayed up late that night, in the company of a bowl of black
box dye and stained hands.

“Get the fuck off of me!” Bakugou bit, shoving Denki off of
his shoulder. It was the first goddamn day of school and he
was already being annoyed beyond belief. He spent all fucking
summer trying to help Deku with All For One and this is what
he gets, huh?
Denki whined, “Come on man! We haven’t seen you all
summer! It’s our last year, can you pretend to like us?”
“No,” Bakugou said, pushing him away again. Mina, in all her
bubbly glory, skipped up to the two.
He felt like caving in his own skull; it was too early for this
shit.
She crashed into Denki, catching him by the shoulders, “Hey!
Is that the guy that didn’t text us once all summer?”
Bakugou growled lowly, turning around. He didn’t need to
put up with their bullshit anymore, “If it makes your bleeding
hearts feel better, I didn’t text anyone all summer. Don’t think
your fucking special.”
“Whatever,” Denki said, rolling his eyes, “You missed us.”

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That was somewhat true. Working with Deku at Miruko’s
agency had been fucking tiring, but at least he was in the
company of someone who understood him.
Not that Bakugou would ever admit that.
Plus, they’d learned a lot about the League’s underworkings,
and behind the scenes, they’d gotten closer to getting Deku to
the full mastery of his quirk. Sure, it was hard work, but there
was a certain weight that had been lifted off his shoulders. It
felt like repayment for his treatment of Deku in middle school.
He was okay with that. They were… friends now.
Speaking of friends.
“Where is Shitty Hair?” He said, looking at the pair. They
shared a glance before returning his gaze, both looking
extremely guilty.
“We… don’t know,” Mina answered honestly, shoe scuffing
the dirt below it.
Bakugou furrowed his eyebrows, “You don’t know?”
Denki studied Mina, making a vague gesture with the roll of
his hand, “Tell him.”
She sighed, hanging her head, “We got into a fight.”
“When,” Bakugou questioned, stepping forward, “and why?”
She made a noise of frustration, “I confessed to him at the end
of last year’s semester. He rejected me and… I didn’t take it
very well. We haven’t spoken since.”
Bakugou stared at them in disgust, “Are you fucking serious?
How pathetic.”

14
“It’s not like he tried to reach out to me either!” Mina
defended, crossing her arms.
“Yeah, he did,” Denki whispered, sinking downward, “He
texted you like a hundred times.”
She turned to him, “When was the last time you talked to him,
huh?”
“You told me not to!” Denki said, putting his hands up.
Bakugou felt the churning of anger deep in his gut, teeth
grinding together, “And you listened to her?!”
“I had to! Sero was just as mad; he and Mina are my best
friends!”
“And Kirishima wasn’t?”
“It’s not like that!” He said, “Don’t sit there and act like you
care now! We couldn’t even get you to answer us! Tell me
when the last time you talked to him was!”
Bakugou froze, his phone burning a hole in his pocket.
Cutting off his friends had been necessary; he was trying to
keep them safe while he and Deku looked into All For One. It’s
not like Deku had talked to his friends either…
Probably.
Kirishima had texted him many times over the summer. They
were all unread; he couldn’t bring himself to look at them.
There were at least a dozen missed calls and a voicemail that
had sat there since the third week of break.
He was about to yell again when he caught sight of green hair.
Looking down at the pair, he flipped them off, “Fuck you.”
“Yeah, run away Bakugou! It’s summer all over again,” Mina
screamed, pulled away by an upset Denki.

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Deku looked over to him, a bit thrown off by his angry
footsteps, “Kacchan?”
“Shut up nerd,” He said, voice softer than before.
“Ah,” Deku hummed, picking up on the frustration, “Are you
alright?”
“Fine,” He said curtly, shoving his hands into his pockets,
“You?”
Deku laughed slightly, rolling his eyes, “Every once and
awhile you could say, ‘How are you Izuku? How has your day
been?’, y’know?”
Bakugou smiled lightly, “As if.”
They walked in silence for a while, Bakugou trying his best to
forget about the early encounter, regret sinking deep into his
bones. At the time, his actions hadn’t seemed that bad.
Bakugou just assumed his friends would be fine with it. Maybe
that had been selfish of him.
“If you actually wanted an answer to your not question about
my day,” Deku said, a little too cocky for Bakugou’s liking, “It
was good. I finally got to see Ochako and Iida today. It’s been
hard only speaking to them over the phone.”
Motherfucker
“Right,” Bakugou said, remorse flooding his tongue like sour
milk. He was such an idiot.
They finally passed through the classroom doors, Bakugou’s
mood somehow much worse than this morning. He took his
seat behind Deku, making sure to give it an extra kick for good
measure.
He looked back at him, shaking his head, “We can go to
Ground Beta right now.”

16
Bakugou’s shoulders dropped, “Oi. Not funny.”
“I thought it was,” Deku said, turning back around with a
grin.
Bakugou glanced over to Kirishima’s desk, noticeably empty
despite all the other students being present. His leg bounced
in nervousness.
Maybe…
Maybe Kirishima wasn’t coming. It had been three months
since they’d seen each other, or even spoke. He might not be
returning. Something could’ve happened and now he didn’t
want to be a hero anymore. Kirishima might’ve been hurt, or
worse. If something had happened to him, why did nobody
tell him and-
His phone seemed a lot heavier than usual.
Ignoring Kirishima all this time just to worry about him now?
How stupid.
If he really was a good friend, he would’ve reached out when
they weren’t speaking. When he wasn’t speaking. No wonder
Kirishima wasn’t here. He probably didn’t want to see him.
Just then, the door creaked open, and Bakugou’s eyes shot up.
Upon seeing the sight in front of him, his heart jumped into
his throat.
Kirishima stood there, leaning against the arm he had on the
door. He looked… incredibly Bakugou-like, face twisted into
mild annoyance as he stepped into the class. There was a lot
different about him at first glance; he was taller, a bit bulkier,
and…
What the fuck?
His hair wasn’t spiked up.

17
His hair wasn’t red anymore.
It was shorter and down; it was curlier too.
Bakugou’s first reaction was to look at Mina, who also turned
to him. They gave each other looks of - what could be
described as - mild horror. Denki made a choking noise as he
spat back up the water he was drinking.
“What the fuck?” he heard Sero whisper, and red eyes
snapped to him.
Kirishima’s face bunched up, looking a certain type of
disgusted. “What?” he hissed, fists bunching up, “Got
something to say all of a sudden?” Sero sank back in his seat.
The mummers of confusion sparked up as Kirishima walked
up to Ochako, who seemed unphased by Kirishima’s
appearance. He leaned down close to her, saying something
softly; a small glimpse of the old Kirishima shining through.
She listened intently, nodding along.
She smiled at him, then picked up her stuff, moving to
Kirishima’s old desk.
“Hi, Kaminari,” She said kindly, taking the seat.
The entire class had their eyes on Kirishima as he sat down,
crossing his arms and reclining back in clear disinterest.
“Kacchan,” Deku whispered, turning around, “What’s up
with him?”
Bakugou was at a loss for words, “... I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Deku scream-whispered, “How do you
not know?”
“We haven’t spoken since last semester,” He said back,
leaning forward.

18
“What?” Deku said, a little too loud. Red eyes moved to the
corner of their sockets, staring Deku down hard.
Deku looked back for a moment before turning back around,
“Fuck that.”
“Did you just swear?” Bakugou questioned.
Deku stayed facing forward, “That, Kacchan, is the kind of
look you’d give me in middle school. So let me repeat, fuck
that.”
Bakugou fell back, mind buzzing with a thousand thoughts as
he tried his best not to look at the boy who he thought he
knew.
Something really fucked was going on, and Bakugou was
going to get to the bottom of it.

Reason #56 to Die: It’s 2 a.m.

I wonder if Denki is playing Mario Kart.

19
 CHAPTER Ii

Reason #26 to Live: Someone spray-painted “Red Riot” on one

of the walls downtown. It’s crazy anyone would want to put
my name on something.

Kirishima stood outside, surprised by how warm it was. His

shirt, a new addition to his hero costume, really had done its
job of keeping the cold out. One of the support kids had made
it for him out a kevlar; tearing would be minimal.
The day was nice, birds chipping the trees above the training
ground. He felt calm here, surrounded by nature instead of
people. Sure, in a few minutes, he would have to spar with
someone, but it didn’t really bother him. Kirishima knew he
couldn’t pick the usual four he’d go with, which was fine.
There were plenty of others he could choose from.
Like they’d want to fight with someone so weak.

20
Kirishima’s shoulders dropped at the voice in his head’s
presence. Of course, the bastard couldn’t let him have one
good moment.
Well, I am you. So really, you just hate yourself.
Shut up, Kirishima thought, his mood significantly souring.
He had been - mostly - fine this morning. He had put his fist
through his mirror last night, and honestly, the absence of his
reflection felt good.
There was a lot of broken glass he would have to clean up, but
it was better than having to look at himself.
Plus, he’d gotten himself to eat food, which had also been a
struggle for the past few days. His depression had kept him
tied to the bed every second he wasn’t in school. However,
he’d managed to get out of bed this morning to get some cereal
in him, and he was proud.
Proud? You did something every person alive does. How
pathetic.
“Okay class,” Aizawa deadpanned, and Kirishima took
comfort in the distraction, “it’s your third year here so you
should know the drill. I’m not going to baby you.”
He walked away, undeniably going somewhere to nap.
Kirishima smiled fondly; it was good to see the little things
hadn’t changed.
Looking around for a partner, Kirishima surveyed the area.
Tokoyami was with Shoji, and Koda and Sato had already split
off. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, he refused to look at his
old friends.
He certainly wasn’t going to ask Bakugou.
Unable to stop himself, he looked at the blonde.

21
He was stalking towards him, red eyes glued onto Kirishima’s
frame. Panicking, Kirishima looked around desperately for an
escape. Did literally everyone else have a partner?
“Kirishima!” He heard a bubbly voice from behind him, and
he turned back to his savior. Ochako was bouncing towards
him, “Let’s be partners!”
Sighing thankfully, he nodded, “For sure!” She waved him
over, linking an arm around his bicep when he got close.
“You finally put on a shirt!” Ochako laughed and smiled
brightly.
Kirishima knew people would comment on the change, but it
still threw him for a loop. He’d added the shirt because he
couldn’t stand to look at his body anymore. Reflecting on it
now, it was stupid for him to assume anyone had wanted to
see him. There wasn’t much to look at. Just an ugly boy with
an ugly body.
“What? Miss the six-pack?” He said, smirking.
Ochako gasped overdramatically, “No! Of course not! I only
want to look at my boyfriend's abs, Kirishima.”
The never-ending feeling of loneliness sunk its needles into
Kirishima’s mouth, sewing it shut. He felt the churn of
breakfast in his stomach, face pailing. Fingers vibrated with
emotional exhaustion.
“Speaking of boyfriends,” Ochako continued, oblivious to
Kirishima’s state, “I tried to save you from Bakugou back
there. What’s got him all riled up?”
Kirishima shook his head, “I don’t know.”

22
“You don’t know?” Ochako questioned, cocking her head.
The hands on his bicep tightened some, “He tells you
everything.”
Kirishima could feel his eyes water, lip quivering as he tried
to push down the feeling. The black hole of doubt was eating
away at his brain, “He… he hasn’t spoken to me since last
semester.”
Ochako stopped walking, effectively pulling Kirishima
backward, “What?”
His shoulder sank, breathing becoming faster, “I don’t know
what happened. One day we were best friends, then he left for
Miruko’s agency and… silence,” Kirishima wiped at his eyes,
laughing at his own patheticness, “I think he-,”
His eyes fell to the ground, watching the salt water fall to the
dirt. It sucked it in like a sponge, erasing his sadness from the
earth, “I think Deku just became more important than me.
Which is fine!” He reassured, trying his best not to offend
Ochako, “He’s way more powerful than me; he’s also more
fun to be around so I get it. I just wish he would’ve told me he
didn’t want to be friends anymore.”
Ochako pulled away, setting a hand on each of Kirishima’s
shoulders, “I mean he and Deku are better friends now, sure,
but…” She shook her head, looking angry.
Kirishima sunk into himself. He hadn’t meant to upset her.
Can’t you do anything right?
I’m trying.
Not hard enough.
“You didn’t deserve that,” she finally said, thumbs rubbing
kindly across the fabric of his shirt.

23
In shock, Kirishima stared at her.
Yes, I did.
He couldn’t remember the last time someone had said
something so nice to him. Looking back, it had been over three
months - excluding Ito, because that’s his job. His parents
hadn’t taken very kindly to his attempt, constantly chastising
him for adding another burden to their lives. It was only fair;
he had added an entire list of things they had to do for him to
their already growing ones.
Kirishima understood why they were upset.
“Thanks,” He said instead, giving her his best smile.
“I will be talking to him later,” She said, finishing it with a
“hmph.”
Kirishima sighed, knowing better than to argue with her. She
continued her steady walking for only a moment before
turning back, an odd look of understanding on her face, “By
the way, I do kinda miss the abs. I think a lot of people do.”
He smirked, chasing after her.
Kirishima was just happy to finally talk with someone who felt
familiar.

“You’re in a bad mood,” Deku said, dodging a blast from

behind. He was much faster than he used to be, moving so
quickly Bakugou couldn’t keep up.
He growled, blasting himself into the air to attempt a
downward-facing explosion, “No shit!”

24
Deku simply jumped out of the way again, propelling himself
upwards. He kicked Bakugou hard in the chest, sending him
crashing into the ground.
Bakugou laid there, absent of any air from his lungs. Stunned,
he rolled onto his side. He tried his best to take in a breath,
shuddering under the weight of the action.
A red shoe dug itself into his temple, “I win.”
Bakugou grumbled, swatting at the shoes while wheezing, “I
was distracted.”
“And now your face is in the ground,” He laughed, removing
his foot, “Come on Kacchan, what’s up with you?”
Bakugou pulled himself up, hand on his chest, “Nothing.”
Deku frowned, arching an eyebrow, “ Sure. You lost and
you’re not even a little upset. You’re beating yourself up over
something.”
“Stop psychoanalyzing me, you fucking weirdo!” Bakugou
yelled, trying his best to stand. Coughing, he managed to pull
himself onto his feet. He turned his head at the sound of
bubbly giggling.
Ochako was sending boulders into Kirishima, who was having
a fucking ball splintering them into a dozen pieces.
He looked at his friend - could he still call him that? -
absorbing the sight of him in a shirt. Something about it felt
violently wrong, like all the confidence from before was
buried somewhere under that polyester.
Bakugou had never seen Kirishima look so unsure.
It was like he was constantly waiting for an enemy to appear
over the horizon. It was pissing Bakugou off, the constant
doubt Kirishima seemed to wear like a pair of handcuffs.

25
“Kirishima is avoiding me,” He said finally, glancing at his
friend.
Deku nodded, gesturing to the two, “He seems like he’s in a
better mood than the first day,” he handed Bakugou a water
bottle, “so it must just be you.”
“Huh?” Bakugou questioned, snatching the bottle, “What
about me?!”
“What bullshit did you pull this time to make him mad at
you?” Deku said, staring at him in mild disinterest.
Bakugou looked away, huffing, “I-,”
Guilt set heavy in his guts, tongue buzzing with a horrible
noise as his throat contracted. Sighing, his fist bunched up
tightly. “I didn’t do it on purpose,” he muttered.
Deku let out a disappointed breath, “Doesn’t matter.”
Bakugou thought back to the voicemail on his phone he
refused to listen to. Missed texts and phone calls swirled
around his mind as his palms crackled with frustration.
“This summer,” he said, eyes focused on dirt, “when we were
looking into All for One,” he cleared his throat, trying to
relieve the tension, “I didn’t talk to him. I didn’t answer his
calls or his texts. Not once the entire summer.”
There was a moment of silence before Deku spoke,
“Kacchan.”
Bakugou moved to face him, only to hear a solid crack as his
head snapped sideways. It took a minute for his brain to catch
up to the fact that he’d been slapped.
“Are you an idiot!?!” Deku said, grabbing him by the
shoulders. Bakugou tried to focus on the words as he was

26
shoved back and forth, “You didn’t talk to him once? He’s
ignoring you because you’re an asshole!”
Bakugou was not used to this kind of treatment. Normally,
Deku would say something kinda pissy about his bad actions
and they’d move on. This reaction, all anger and heart, was
different than usual
“He’s been your friend since our first year and you throw him
away over one summer! What could’ve possibly crawled into
your brain and eaten so much of it that you came up with this
decision?!”
“I was trying to protect him,” Bakugou said, grabbing Deku
back.
“He’s going to be a Pro Hero too, Bakugou!” Not the first
name. Damn, he really was mad, “Kirishima is perfectly
capable of taking care of himself!”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t try to keep him out of danger!”
“By completely shutting him out?”
“What else was I supposed to do?!”
“He probably thinks you hate him!” Deku screamed, pushing
Bakugou to the ground. The blonde hit the dirt, sprawling out
onto his back.
The world spun around him as he contemplated the sentence.
That was impossible, right? There was no way Kirishima
thought Bakugou hated him.
But, then again…
Sure, Kirishima had moved his desk to get away from Denki,
Sero, and Mina, but he’d hadn’t tried to stay close to Bakugou
either. Kirishima's texts had stopped halfway through the

27
summer, and when Bakugou had tried to partner with him
earlier, Kirishima had been looking everywhere for an escape.
“Do you really think that?” Bakugou said, looking absolutely
crestfallen, “That he thinks that I hate him?”
Deku sighed, putting his hands on his knees, “I would. I would
probably hate you back for leaving me in the dark.”
Bakugou stared up at the sky, watching the swirling clouds as
he tried to sort out his thoughts. He had known that not
talking to Kirishima had been a dick move, but he thought
maybe, somehow, they could fix their relationship when he
returned.
“I thought… I thought we could fix it after I got back,”
Bakugou said.
“You were just going to take advantage of the fact that he
cares about you,” Deku sighed, “If I were him, I would
absolutely hate you.”
Bakugou bit his lips, eyes wide as Deku stood above him, “You
need to apologize, and maybe, just maybe, he might forgive
you. If he doesn’t,” Deku reached a hand out to him, “you
kinda deserve it.”
Bakugou took the hand, being lifted off the ground with an
easy swoop. Heels dug deep into the dirt, he huffed, “I really
fucked up, didn’t I?”
“Yeah,” Deku said, patting his back, “You really did. You have
time to fix it though.”
He nodded, thinking about all the things he needed to do to
make this up to Kirishima.

28
Kirishima walked through the hall, steadying his breathing.
His legs felt shaky as he made his way back to the dorms.
Thinking about training earlier, he cringed. It was so obvious
how far behind he had fallen. Aizawa should’ve suspended
him right there.
He’d gotten caught up in the joy of being with a friend and
had completely forgotten to actually practice. How stupid of
him; Ochako deserved better than to train with him. She
shouldn’t have been stuck with such a weak, unfocused
bastard.
He turned the corner, still muttering insults under his breath,
and hit a wall.
Well, it wasn’t a wall, it was a person, and that person was
holding his waist tight, keeping him somewhat upright.
Looking up, his vision was filled with blonde eyebrows and
red eyes.
Neither of them spoke, Kirishima’s hands on Bakugou’s
shoulders. He could feel the embarrassment heating his
cheeks.
Ripping himself away, he fell back, “Sorry! I’m so sorry! I was
just trying to go back to the dorms; I didn’t mean to bother
you!” He put his head down, trying his best not to taint
Bakugou with his gaze
Quickly, he tried to leave, only to be grabbed by the wrist.
Wincing, he pulled it away, arms stinging.
“Wait, Kirishima,” Bakugou pleaded, hands still out like he
wanted to touch him, “I… I need to talk to you.”

29
He paused, turning around slowly, looking extremely guilty.
Bakugou's heart panged, remorse pulsing through him. God,
he had really messed up.
“Listen, Kiri, about this summer,” Bakugou sucked in a breath,
“I-.”
Why am I not saying it? Spit it out!
“I was working all summer with Miruko and Deku. We were
hunting down the really powerful villain, and it took up all
my time.”
No, that’s not what I was trying to say.
“And I was trying my best to make sure no one else got hurt.”
Tell him you’re sorry!
“I cut you off because I was afraid you’d end up dead if you
stayed around me. That’s all.”
You motherfucker. You stupid motherfucker.
He looked at Kirishima expectantly, mind a mass of white
noise. He watched in horror as regret consumed Kirishima’s
face
“Bakugou, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you why
you were doing something so important.” Kirishima grabbed
Bakugou's wrist, eyes sickeningly dull, “I didn’t mean to get in
the way. Please forgive me.”
Bakugou’s hands went up in shock, and when his brain finally
caught up, he set them on his friends' shoulders.
You didn’t do anything wrong!
“It’s ok,” Bakugou choked out, kicking himself mentally.
“Thank you. I won’t do it again.” Kirishima said, pulling away.

30
What?
“What?” Bakugou questioned, thrown off by the answer.
Kirishima let go of him entirely, “I won’t get in the way of
your hero missions. I’ll be sure not to bother you anymore.”
“That’s not what I said,” Bakugou protested, trying to reassure
Kirishima, “I-,” he looked away, “I want to be friends again.”
Kirishima didn’t say anything, staring hard at the other. They
stayed in the awkwardness for a moment.
“Why?”
Bakugou was taken aback, mouth falling open softly, “What
do you mean ‘why?’”
Kirishima gave him a smile that looked so unnaturally sad,
“Why would you want to be friends with me after I almost
messed up this summer for you?”
Bakugou sighed,
“No, Kirishima. You didn’t ruin anything I-,”
“Yeah, I did,” He said, “Why do you think me and the others
aren’t friends anymore? It’s because I’m a bad person,”
Kirishima said, sounding far too honest.
“That’s not-,”
“I don’t want to drag you down with me. I’ll ruin you like I
ruin everything else,” Kirishima responded, voice rising.
Anger and sadness boiled like an overflowing pot of water on
a stovetop deep in his bones, “I’m bad for you. I’m bad for
everyone. You should stay away from me.”
“I’m not going to do that,” Bakugou said, grabbing Kirishima’s
wrists again, trying his best to be careful.

31
Even the soft press burned white-hot and Kirishima grimaced.
Bakugou didn’t let go, “Are you listening to me? You’re not
bad! I want to be friends, Kirishima.”
Kirishima sniffled, eyes closed as he tried to ignore the pain,
“Okay, okay. We can be friends.”
Bakugou looked down at his wrist, noticing small dots of red
leaking through the fabric. Panicking, he let go, “What the
fuck?”
Kirishima also turned his eyes to the blood, pulling his arms
away, “Must be from training!” He spat out, excuse coming
out in full confidence, “I didn’t know I’d even been
scratched!”
He laughed as Bakugou stared at him, completely confused.
Something felt extremely off about the whole situation.
“Anyways,” Kirishima said, far too loud, “I need to go.
Goodbye!”
Bakugou was at a loss for words as his friend walked away,
almost in a full sprint.

Kirishima sat on his bedroom floor, crying softly as he

wrapped the bandages over the splinters in the scabs.
He hadn’t relapsed in a couple of days, and he had been proud
of himself.
The trickling blood only served as a reminder about how
incredibly fucked up he was. He could barely see through the
tears, fingers trembling harshly as he tried his best to seal up
the wounds.

32
Reason #68 to Die: I went back to look at the spray-paint.
Someone drew an X over it and put the word “lame” instead.

33
 CHAPTER Iii

Reason #12 to Live: Bakugou wants to be friends again.

Maybe it’s pity. Actually, it probably is pity. Either way, maybe
this will mean he’ll want to hang out sometime! I really miss
him.

Underneath the stairwell, there’s a little nook that about three

people can fit in. Kirishima wouldn’t have known it existed
had it not been for hide and seek last year; they’d played it
during a classwide sleepover. He, Denki, and Bakugou had all
snuck in there to hide, Bakugou had been dragged along by
Kirishima.
He slammed a fist into the side of his head, scratching his
temple slightly as he mentally kicked himself. He spent all
those years dragging Bakugou along on things he didn’t want
to do. What a shitty friend.

34
Why couldn’t he just leave people who weren’t interested
alone? It’s like he had to be a nuisance to everyone around
him.
That’s why people stopped liking you. It’s because you’re
annoying.
Kirishima groaned, setting his head on his knees.
Look at you, sitting alone at lunch while everyone else hangs
out with their friends.
The grip on his hair tightened, fingers digging into his scalp.
His whole body felt painfully numb, ears ringing with a
neverending buzz; it was like a wasp had crawled in his ear
canal.
Crying softly, he sunk back against the wall, eyes burning
from the tears invading them. His hands were hardened and
it was taking everything in him not to slam them into the
concrete.
“Kirishima?” Ochako said, her kind voice drifting into the
corner he was shoved into. Kirishima stood up completely
straight, wiping at his eyes as he tried to compose himself.
“Y-Yes?” He stuttered out, waiting for her to appear around
the corner. She did, holding a bento box full of food.
Ochako looked extremely concerned; her lips were drawn in
tight together as she looked him over, “Are you okay?”
He opened his mouth to say something, only to feel the
familiar closing of his throat as he choked on the words. He
attempted to wave his hand instead, coughing hard on the
rocks in his throat.
It seemed the sobs were inevitable.
No one has asked if I’m okay in so long.

35
Ochako started towards him, wrapping him tight into a hug.
Kirishima collapsed into her, holding on for dear life as he
broke. She was patient with him, brushing her fingers
through his hair, “Yeah, I thought so,” She looped her arms
around his shoulders, still massaging his scalp, “What
happened?”
He wanted so desperately to tell her, to tell anyone really. The
words, however, were buried somewhere deep in his brain,
refusing to dislodge themselves. Instead, he shook his head
against her sternum, the tears continuing.
She hummed, pulling away just some, “Kirishima, did you
find out about what happened at lunch today?”
Kirishima furrowed his brows in confusion as she brushed the
tears away with her sleeve, “What?” Ochako grimaced,
looking away, “About Mina?”
Still confused, he rasped, “Did she say something?”
Ochako sighed, grabbing his face, “Listen, before I tell you
this, you have to believe me when I say everyone was
disgusted with her. It was a shit show after I left. Everyone was
screaming at one another and I-,” she gulped, nervousness
swallowing her features.
Kirishima nodded, gripping her arms tight.
“Well, she was talking about this summer, mostly about how
she confessed and all that. She said you were super mean
about rejecting her, and I told her that didn’t seem like you at
all,” Ochako seemed to breathe out her anger, “then, she…”
She started to tear up as well, eyes glued to the ceiling, “Then,
she told everyone you were gay.”
Kirishima stared in shock, heart falling through the chasm of
his chest and collapsing into his stomach, “She… What?”

36
“I’m so sorry, Kirishima! Mina just kept talking; it was like she
couldn’t stop. I started yelling at her so maybe she’d get mad
at me instead of you. Then, Bakugou jumped in and things got
really messy,”
Bakugou had defended him. Why?
Ochako said, hugging him again, “I realized you weren’t there
and I came to find you. Last I heard, Midoriya and Bakugou
were screaming at her pretty loud.”
Ochako sniffled, “It’s like she’s an entirely different person.
She wasn’t like this at all last year. Mina gets mad at
everything; she’ll jump on you for any little mistake. I think
you just happen to be her biggest target.”
Kirishima was too tired to say anything, arms dangling freely
as he simply leaned his head into his friend’s shoulder, “Why
do they hate me?”
She inhaled sharply, air broken up into segments, “Oh,
Kirishima, I’m sure that’s not true. Even if she does, if Denki
and Sero do too, I don’t. So many of us love you so much.”
Liar.
“I mean it. You’re friends with so many people.”
She’s lying.
“We care about you so much. Everyone was so mad at her.
She’s lying so you’ll stop talking to her.
“I’ve been so worried about you. You look so sad all the time
and it’s killing me.”
Look what you’ve done. You made someone worry about you,
and for what? Attention? Pity?

37
You’re disgusting.
“You’re one of my best friends Kirishima. I like having you
around. You’re really great company, and you deserve better
than this.”
Kill yourself.
You’re a burden.
Making people worry.
Disgusting.
Ugly.
Look at her, she’s crying.
This is your fault.
Everything is your fault.
“I know,” He said, wrapping his arms around her in return.
He didn’t really know which one of them he was talking to.
Ochako stood in front of him, hugging him close as he
regained control of himself. Once the sniffles stopped, she
pulled back, “I hope you know none of us care that you’re gay.
I’m sorry you didn’t get to tell us when you were ready
though.”
Kirishima chuckled, wiping his own eyes this time, “I think
it’s sadder that none of you even questioned it.”
Ochako turned red, “Well, I mean…”
“No, it’s okay,” He said, smiling.
Don’t let her know.
“It’s kinda funny actually,” He reassured, and she giggled.

38
“Well, I’m glad,” She let go of him entirely, and he realized
how long it had been since he'd hugged someone, “Anyways,
Bakugou packed you a lunch. I think it’s his piss-poor way of
apologizing.” She grabbed the bento box from off the floor
and handed it to him.
Kirishima accepted it, opening it to see three pieces of wagyu
sushi, along with some sesame noodles. There were two
taiyakis pinned down by a toothpick with a small shark on top
of it.
“I gave him the toothpick,” Ochako said, pulling it out slowly.
She wiped it off with her sleeve, waving off Kirishima’s
attempts at protest. The pick now clean, she tucked it behind
his ear, “There you go! It suits you!”
Kirishima laughed, removing the chopsticks as he did so, “I’m
glad you think so.” He drove straight for the sushi, finally
filling his empty stomach. Ochako sat beside him, setting her
head on his shoulder as he ate.
“I understand more than you think,” Ochako said as he dug
into the noodles. She twiddled her fingers idly, frowning
some, “Izuku pulled away a lot this summer too. We still kept
in contact, for sure, but he was distant sometimes. I always felt
like…”
“You were being left in the dark?” Kirishima supplied, looking
at her.
“Yeah,” She sighed, “but Bakugou, he knows everything. I can
tell. They have all this inside knowledge on each other and I
just feel… excluded.”
Kirishima nodded, mouth full, “It’s just hard to make yourself
fit in their dynamic because they know everything about
each other.”

39
Ochako swung her legs back and forth over the small ledge
they were sat on. Her eyes picked with small tears as she
laughed softly, “It’s impossible. They laugh over all these
inside jokes and stuff and I just can’t keep up. But what am I
supposed to do, stop them from being friends? They just fixed
their relationship.”
Kirishima knocked her shoulder lightly, “To be fair, you have
a piece of him Bakugou doesn’t. He loves you.”
In the silence, they could both hear the echo of what Kirishima
hadn’t said.
I don’t have that piece of Bakugou.
Ochako wiped her nose, “I’m sorry! I just made this all about
me, huh?”
“No, it’s okay!” Kirishima insisted, chopsticks still in hand,
“It’s nice to know someone gets it.”
They smiled at each other, a sense of understanding flowing
through them both.
“Yeah, it is.”

Bakugou stomped through the hall, anger flowing harshly

through him. He looked down at his bloody knuckles, skin
burned away in spots. He hadn’t meant to get in a fight with
that pink bitch, but when she’d said that; when she outed his
best friend to everyone. He couldn’t stop himself.
So yeah, he and Mina had gotten into a shoving match; her
acid might’ve gotten on his hands, what about it?

40
It burned, fuck it burned like hell. Bakugou refused to let it
show, simply trying to hunt down his friend. He didn’t know
how he was supposed to tell him without the other getting
upset.
He walked through the open doorway that led to the stairwell,
ears open for any sign of Kirishima.
“They have all this inside knowledge on each other and I just
feel… excluded.”
Was that Ochako? He had noticed her absence after Aizawa
had split the two of them up.
He growled, thinking about the detention he had received. It
was such bullshit; suddenly standing up for your friend isn’t
allowed?
Kirishima’s voice followed. “It’s just hard to make yourself fit
in their dynamic because they know everything about each
other.”
Who was this about?
“It’s impossible. They laugh over all these inside jokes and
stuff and I just can’t keep up. But what am I supposed to do,
stop them from being friends? They just fixed their
relationship.”
Is this about me and Deku?
“To be fair, you have a piece of him Bakugou doesn’t. He loves
you.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Bakugou tried to take
in the emotions that lay in the space, but he couldn’t. The two
that were hiding from him had always been better at that stuff
than he had been. His lacking emotional intelligence made
him feel like an intruder, so he left.

41
He backed out of the doorway, walking himself to the dorms.
Something felt so heavy in him; it was like the silence had
grabbed a hold of him and latched itself into his bones.
Bakugou just wished he could understand why it was
happening.

Kirishima had finally managed to leave his little nook, almost

an hour after Ochako had left. Now, he was here, sunk deep
into his pillows. He held his Crimson Riot plush close. Maybe
it was childish to have a plush at 18, but it was one of the few
things that brought him comfort anymore.
He hugged it close, tears falling softly from his eyes.
You ate so much for lunch today. No wonder you’ve gotten
fat.
That’s not true. Even if it was, it’s not a big deal.
Yes, it is. How can you be a hero if you’re ugly?
I’m not ugly.
You’re disgusting.
Shut up.
Pig. Revolting. Burden.
Kirishima started to heave, the weight of his thoughts enough
to make him sick. He watched tears fall to the hardwood floor.
You should slip on it. Maybe you’ll split your head open and
die.

42
“That doesn’t even make sense,” Kirishima groaned, trying to
fight against the irrationality. He was still leaning over the
side of his bed, breathing in deep and slow.
“Kirishima,” He heard Bakugou's voice through the door,
“Who the fuck are you talking to?”
Kirishima went rigid, falling off the bed as he was startled. He
landed with a loud thump.
“Kirishima!’ Bakugou said, sounding a bit nervous, “Open the
fucking door please.”
Kirishima tried to pull himself up, crawling about halfway to
the entrance before being able to do so. Attempting to appear
normal, he opened the door, “Hey Bakugou. What’s up?”
Bakugou looked him up and down, and Kirishima realized he
was wearing a t-shirt. Feeling extremely naked, he wrapped
his arms behind his back.
Bakugou growled, pushing through the doorway, “We’re
hanging out.”
It was a statement, not a question. Kirishima followed after
him, looking visibly uncomfortable, “I’m really tired. Let’s
push it back, yeah?”
“School literally just ended. You weren’t even there for the last
half,” Bakugou said, the words laced with a questioning tone.
Was this an interrogation? Kirishima began to pull back.
“I’m not asking for details, Shi-,” Bakugou stopped himself,
sighing, “Kirishima. Look, I just want to hang out with you for
a little bit. You can kick me out in ten minutes just,” He looked
up at Kirishima, scrunching his face up for a moment before
cracking open his eyes, “Can we please hang out.

43
Kirishima was dead, wasn’t he? He really had slipped on his
own tears and split his head open and died.
“What?” Kirishima said, eyes wide.
Bakugou growled and began to take off his hoodie. What the
fuck was happening? Kirishima felt like the room was
spinning at a hundred miles an hour. He tried his best to
ground himself.
“Here,” He said gruffly, holding the hoodie up, “You look so
fucking uncomfortable right now. I don’t know why you’re
hiding your goddamn arms or whatever, but I’m sick of
looking at it,” He gestured it out again, “Put it on so you’ll stop
being so awkward.”
Bakugou huffed, seeming to hate his own statement, “I
mean… so you’ll be more comfortable or some fucking
bullshit; take the fucking hoodie!”
Kirishima started to reach for it, pulling back under
Bakugou’s gaze. Suddenly, the blonde looked up at the ceiling
and Kirishima took the hoodie. Pulling it over his head, he
took in the heavy scent of caramel.
It was soft against Kirishima’s ruined skin.
Ruined skin.
Skin.
He shook his head, smiling, “Thank you, Bakugou.”
He rumbled, throwing his hand forward, “Whatever, don’t
worry about it.”
Kirishima noticed then the Switch Bakugou had with him,
“Do you wanna play something?”

44
Bakugou looked him over before walking over to the bed. He
sat on it, leaning back entirely as he kicked his shoes off.
Kirishima watched, confusion eating at him.
“You look tired,” Bakugou said, adjusting himself so he lay in
the middle of the bed, blonde hair on the pillows, “so I won’t
make you lose against me in Mario Kart.”
Kirishima rolled his eyes, walking closer, “Okay? What are we
doing instead?”
Bakugou tapped the side of his chest lightly, “Lay down and
take a nap. I’ll be your stupid fucking pillow instead.” He
looked away, embarrassment on his face, “Last year at that
class sleepover, you kept talking about how it was easier to
sleep when someone else was there. So here I am.”
Kirishima bit the inside of his cheek, careful not to draw
blood, “Really? You’ll let me do that.”
“Damnit Kiri,” he bit, sitting up, “I said it’s fine. I’m trying to
be… nicer to you. Can you just accept the offer or kick me
out?”
He trembled some, the yelling throwing him back to a
different time. Bakugou’s eyes widened as he watched
Kirishima shake in discomfort, possibly even fear, “Fuck.”
He started to get off the bed, “I keep fucking this up. I’ll go,
ok?”
“No!” Kirishima grabbed him by the shoulders, keeping him
down on the mattress. They both exchanged gazes as
Kirishima started to still, “Stay, please. Everything is quiet
when you’re here.”
Bakugou cocked his head in confusion, “What do you mean?”
He asked softly.

45
Kirishima pushed him back down, “Uh, nothing! Just trust
me!”
Bakugou didn’t move for a moment, but began to readjust
himself on the bed, Switch in his left hand as he did so.
Kirishima crawled next to him, setting his head down on
Bakugou’s chest. They both laid together, far too stiff to enjoy.
Then, Bakugou picked up his Switch - had his hands been
bandaged this whole time? - holding it above both of them so
that Kirishima could watch. He booted up Stardew Valley, and
Kirishima smiled, letting out a huff.
“Don’t you dare laugh,” Bakugou said, but Kirishima could
notice the small uptick in his voice. He settled against
Bakugou, arm extending over his chest. Bakugou relaxed,
sinking into Kirishima's hair.
“Who did you marry?” Kirishima asked, and Bakugou turned
to him.
“Alex,” he said, his character walking into the kitchen.
Kirishima chuckled, “A man after my own heart!”
If he had looked up, Kirishima could’ve seen the spread of red
across his cheeks, “Yeah. Something like that.”
Kirishima closed his eyes, surrounded by the warmth of his
friend as the clicking noises dragged him into sleep.
Bakugou continued to play, heart beating like a snare drum as
he watched the boy beside him.

46
Reason #4 to Die: My mom told me to slow down while eating
today. It was the first time I’d eaten in three days. I guess my
fucking body has become obvious to everyone else.
And they want me to change too.

47
 CHAPTER Iv

Reason #2 to Live: I found all those pictures I took for the

corkboard. I was looking them over to see all the good
memories from the years before. I thought it would hurt but
it felt more bittersweet than anything. I wish Bakugou could
see the face he was making in some of these.
Maybe one day.

Kirishima opened his eyes, vision fuzzy as he looked away

from the light. His body ached everywhere, his neck
screaming with pain as he rolled over, hoping to find some
warmth.
There was none.
He felt his hand around the place Bakugou had been laying
the night before, the sheets cold and abandoned. Something

48
in his chest squeezed tight, air stolen from him as he took in
the silence of the room.
He was alone.
Why would he stay?
Kirishima groaned, sitting up in an attempt to crush down the
voice. The neverending dialogue continued.
You let him in and look at what happened. He got scared and
ran away.
You’re broken. Used. Look at you.
Kirishima’s core was white-hot, angry, and violent. He began
to shake from the emotion, sharp teeth grinding against one
another. Actions carried by nothing else than rage, he grabbed
his pillow and tore at it, shredding through the stuffing with
his hardened fingers.
He looked like a toddler throwing a tantrum - which was
stupid because he was an adult. He didn’t feel like an adult
though.
He felt just like he did when his dad threw him in the deep
end of the pool when he was four. When the cold water had
touched his skin, he had gasped for air, only to take in a lung-
full of water. Sure, he figured out how to swim pretty quickly
after that; but why did he almost have to die just to learn how
to float?
Kirishima felt like he couldn’t breathe.
Sitting in the labor of his episode, Kirishima grabbed fistfuls
of cotton. Wheezing, he folded into himself, crying softly as
the embarrassment of fit caught up to him.
He collapsed on his side, tears falling down his cheeks; his
body felt incredibly stiff.

49
How are you supposed to be a hero when you’re like this?
Groaning, he grabbed at his hair. He kicked his legs,
overwhelmed by everything that was going on.
Be quiet!
Be better.
Stop. Please, stop.
Weak.
He dissolved into a pile of sobs, eyes screwed shut so that the
outside world wouldn’t exist for a while.
This is stupid. He left because he didn’t have - want - to stay.
You’re a weight he got tired of carrying.
Without the energy to fight back, Kirishima gave into the
voice; that dark, hideous thing that rested somewhere deep
inside of him.
He stared at the wall, unable to produce any real emotion as
he took in the words his mind created, sinking into the reality
of his life.

Bakugou chopped the onions in front of him, hyper-focused

on the task at hand. He felt bad leaving Kirishima alone -
something was obviously wrong with him - but he could tell
that he hadn’t been eating, and he was determined to fix that.
“Kacchan?” He heard, looking up to see Deku standing in the
kitchen’s doorway, “What are you making?”

50
He grumbled, “Some steak for Kirishima.” The knife made
quick work of the vegetables as Bakugou kept up his speed,
unaffected by his friend’s presence. Deku hummed, taking a
seat at the table.
“Why isn’t he down here with you?” Deku asked, yawning.
“Sleeping in,” Bakugou said curtly, putting the onions in the
skillet. The steak came next.
Preferably, he would’ve made it on a grill, but he didn’t have
time for that right now. Sighing, he leaned against the
counter, “Deku.”
Deku looked up to him, but Bakugou kept his eyes on the
steak, “Yeah?”
“Something’s wrong with him. I’m not crazy, right?” Bakugou
asked, focused on the bubbling oil.
Deku didn’t say anything for a moment, clearly thinking hard.
Then, he let out a breath, “Yeah. Yeah, there is.”
Bakugou closed his eyes, grimacing at the confirmation. He
leaned fully on his arms, hands gripping the granite
countertop hard. He kicked the wood underneath the stove
lightly.
“Izuku.”
Deku's eyes widened, completely baffled by the use of his real
name, “Kacchan?”
He turned, Deku taking in the sight of his friend. The bags
under his eyes were intense, lips turned into a harsh scowl.
He could see the pinprick of tears in red eyes.
“I’m worried about him.”
Taken aback, Deku stood up, “Kacchan.”

51
He turned away with a growl, “Forget it. It’s whatever. I’ll
figure it out.”
“Katsuki!” Deku insisted, walking over to the blonde, “You’re
right to be worried. I’m worried about him too.”
Bakugou let out a bitter chuckle, slamming his fist on the
counter, “How am I supposed to fix this? He was perfectly fine
last year. I ghost him for an entire summer like a fucking idiot,
and I’m the one upset. I couldn’t be more of a selfish bastard.
Why do I fuck everything up?”
Deku shook his head, resting a scarred hand on Bakugou
shoulder, “You figured out how to fix our relationship and -
not to make it a competition - you screwed ours up a lot
worse,” He reassured, unfazed by Bakugou shoving his hand
off, “Also, to be fair, I don’t think this has to do so much with
you as it has to do with Mina.”
They could both feel the lingerings of hate course through the
room at the mention of the name,
“So, maybe you can start there. There’s got to be more to this
than just a rejection.”
Bakugou cursed under his breath, “As if anything could give
her the right to-,”
“I didn’t say that,” Deku said, cutting him off, “I’m just saying
they seem to hate each other now.
Maybe, if you can get her to apologize, or at least back-off,
you can fix the worst of it.”
Bakugou nodded, flipping the steak again, “Yeah... maybe.”
They both set in the silence, that quiet understanding palpable
between the both of them.

52
“Well, I have to go. I promised Ochako I’d go on a lunch date
with her,” Deku grabbed a strawberry from underneath
Bakugou, “You want to hang out later?”
Bakugou thought it over, before turning to him, “No,” He
relived the quiet conversation he’d overheard underneath the
stairs, “You should spend the day with her. She deserves it.”
Deku cocked his head, before nodding, “Yeah, you’re right.
Then I’ll see you tomorrow Kacchan,”
He took a bite of the strawberry as he waved behind him, “Tell
Kirishima I say hi!”
Bakugou scoffed, smirking softly as he finished up the steak.

Kirishima was awoken from his own head by knocking on his

door. He didn’t say anything at first, afraid that anyone would
see the mess that he - and his room - were at the moment.
The knocks came again, “Kirishima, can I come in?”
He looked at the door weakly, hands clutching the sheets.
He could hear the sigh from the other side of the door, “I’m
coming in.”
The door opened with a creak as Kirishima buried his head
into the mattress. Tuning out the world, he could hear the
buzzing of words but none of the meaning.
There was a hand on his shoulder shaking him softly; he didn’t
move. Then, there was a hand sliding across his face, picking
it up with care. Afraid to open his eyes or mouth,

53
embarrassment inevitable if he did so, he pinched his
trembling lips together.
“Kiri, can you answer me? Please?” Bakugou said, sitting on
the bed next to him, “I- I don’t know what to do to make this
better,” He rasped, setting his head down on his lap, hands
trailing through his hair.
Kirishima shattered into a million unmendable pieces,
reaching out to clutch Bakugou’s shirt, “You can’t. Nothing
can.”
As Bakugou held his head tight, watching in the most
agonizing helplessness, he reflected on a different time.
Kirishima’s room had always been a safe space; a place anyone
could go to find solace. He could see the extra set of
headphones Kirishima kept around from Jirou tucked into his
penholder. Sero’s copy of that manga they had been reading
sat on the top shelf. Mina's butterfly clips were strewn out by
his Crimson Riot figures. Denki’s old charger; Deku’s page on
Kirishima’s quirk, a keychain from Tokoyami, and cookbook
Sato had given him all had their own place in his room.
He looked up the corkboard, littered with pictures of school
trips and internships.
And of them.
A selfie he had been forced to take at the sport’s festival, one
of them the day they’d gotten their hero costumes, Kirishima
holding up their licenses together.
Through the oncoming tears, he could barely see the pictures
anymore, but a final set caught his eyes.
It was them, four months ago on the last day of their second
year. Kirishima was smiling, arm wrapped tight around
Bakugou. His bright red hair stuck up in sharp spikes - fuck,

54
he’d almost forgotten what that looked like - and his eyes
shined bright with an emotion Bakugou didn’t think either of
them could feel anymore.
But Bakugou.
Bakugou wasn’t smiling. In fact, he looked incredibly angry;
his nostrils were flared and his eyebrows furrowed. He was
turned almost internally away like he was trying to escape the
photo.
Then, next to it was a similar photo, almost exactly the same.
Except now, Kirishima was glancing at him. His smile was
almost gone, eyes duller than before. Somewhere behind the
mess of crimson and fire, he could see the hurt.
Bakugou looked down at the mess he'd made of the boy he
once knew.
He looked so small, so lifeless and cold. Somehow, it was like
Kirishima was already dead.
He pleaded, trying to get Kirishima to look at him, “Kirishima,
it wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it was,” he rasped, hiccupping on the words, “It’s always
me. I’m always causing problems.”
“That’s not true!” Bakugou said, smashing hard into
Kirishima’s emotional walls.
“Then why does everyone leave!” He cried, smashing a fist
into his friend’s chest. Caught off guard, Bakugou doubled
over.
Before he knew it, they were wrestling. Kirishima tugged on
him, yanking him back and forth as Bakugou tried to shoulder
him away. They shoved at each other's faces, elbows and knees
flying freely.

55
“You’re a fucking dick!” He screamed, hurling Bakugou into
the mattress.
The blonde attempted to fight back, kicking at the other,
“Kirishima, stop it!”
“Why did you leave?” He screamed, pulling Bakugou up by
the shirt and slamming him back down, “This summer, this
morning! Why do you always leave when I need you the
most?”
Bakugou stared up at him, Kirishima’s tears hitting his cheeks
as they both panted from exhaustion; emotionally and
physically. His shoulders were bunched as he kept a tight hold
of Bakugou’s collar, “Why does nobody ever stay?”
Kirishima collapsed against his friend’s chest, body shaking
under the sobs. Bakugou froze, body rocked by the shock of
the moment.
Kirishima was so tired. Empty from the fighting, the guilt; he
was exhausted of never feeling like enough, “I just want
everything to end.”
Bakugou's hands shook, soft pops escaping him as the
statement caught up to his brain, “What?”
He sat up, face and body corpse-like, “Nothing,” he said, too
tired to continue on his train of selfpity.
Bakugou looked at his face, noticing the split in his lip,
“Kirishima,” he said, placing a hand on his cheek.
“Stop pitying me,” he growled, pulling away only a little.
“What happened this summer wasn’t your fault,” Bakugou
whispered.
“Yes, it was,” Kirishima responded, eyes unseeing.

56
“What happened this summer wasn’t your fault,” He
repeated.
“Stop lying.”
“What happened this summer wasn’t your fault.”
“Stop it! I don’t believe you!”
Kirishima felt another hand on the other side of his face,
trapped by warmth. He gazed down at Bakugou, only to see
tears streaming down his temples and onto the ruins of the
pillow, “Then I’ll keep saying it until you do.”
Kirishima shook his head, chest shaking with the pressure on
his lungs, “Stop.”
“What happened this summer wasn’t your fault.”
“Please, Bakugou,” Kirishima whimpered, his entire weight
held-up by those hands he had admired for so long.
There was so much power contained in those palms. Right
there on his fingertips lay a thousand fireworks. And yet, they
cradled him so sweetly as he cracked like a mountain top
under a volcanic explosion.
“I was a shitty friend who ignored you because I was scared,”
He pulled down Kirishima’s head into his shoulder, “I’m bad
at this stuff but just know I-,” He choked on the words,
hugging Kirishima close, “Eijirou, I’m sorry.”
Kirishima held him tight, rolling them both onto their sides as
they scratched and clawed their way closer to each other.
That severed ribbon was tied back together. Sure, it was
sloppy and a little loose, but it would tighten over time, even
if they yanked on it. It felt nice to have that tether, invisible or
not, wrapped around their pinkies, everpresent.

57
This hadn’t fixed Kirishima, he didn’t really think anything
could at this point.
But this ribbon, this rope, had tied some of the little pieces
back to him. For now, that was enough.
“I’m so sorry,” Bakugou muttered, buried into Kirishima’s
chest.
“It’s okay,” he admitted, fingers tightening into his shirt, “I
wasn’t ever really mad. I forgave you a long time ago.”
“Good,” Bakugou coughed, pulling away, “because I’m not
saying it again.”
Kirishima stared at him, smirking some as the pink crawled
across the blonde’s cheeks, nesting up on the top of his ears.
There was this look on his face as he bit the inside of his
mouth; remorse mixed with shyness.
“You don’t have to,” he replied, wrapping their hands
together. He brushed a kiss to the top of those important
fingertips, “I understand.”
Bakugou lit up like a firecracker, ripping his hand away as he
sat straight up, “I brought food.”
Kirishima chuckled at the awkwardness of the moment as
Bakugou reached over to the bedside table. He held the plate
over into view, the smell reaching Kirishima’s nose.
“What is it?” Kirishima asked, leaning over the other’s
shoulder.
“It’s a steak,” He said, “and you’re lucky I wrapped it with foil
or it would be cold by now.”
Kirishima accepted it, realizing just how hungry he was.
Disgusting.

58
He paused, the voice ringing out full force. Looking at the
plate, he suddenly felt queasy.
Don’t eat. Bad. Failure.
“Kirishima,” Bakugou said, snapping him from his trance,
“What are you doing?”
He shook his head, fingers trembling as he reached for the
fork, “M’ fine.”
Bakugou’s stomach churned with concern. Kirishima looked
beyond pale, basically as white as the pillow stuffing that was
still strewn around the room.
“Hey,” he said, taking the knife, “I didn’t make this for you to
waste.”
He nodded, resting his head on Bakugou's shoulder. He cut
him off a piece, feeding it to Kirishima before taking a slice for
himself.
“It’s good,” Kirishima said, perking up some. He seemed more
interested now.
Bakugou almost made a comment about him talking with his
mouth full, but stopped himself.
“Of course it’s good, I made it,” he said instead. Kirishima
hummed, starting to go at the steak by himself.
Smiling, Bakugou felt his nerves die down with the arrival of
pride, and he wiped away the remaining tears on his friend's
face.
Kirishima grinned at him, looking a little shocked, “Midoriya
turned you into a softie.”
Bakugou’s eyebrows dropped, “No, he didn’t.”

59
“Yes, he did!” Kirishima laughed, eating the steak with fever
now, “You spend one summer with the guy and come back
like this? Don’t get me wrong, I like it. You’re still a hardass,
which I like too!” Kirishima said, throwing his hands up, “but
you’re a… softer hardass.”
Bakugou studied him, scowling. Then, he leaned in close to
Kirishima, who paused his eating, “I’m not soft for anyone,”
his eyes darted away, “... else.”
Kirishima was the one to blush this time, turning away as both
of them hid from the moment.
After a while, Kirishima turned back around. His lips quirked
up, “Well, I’m glad… that it’s just me.”
Bakugou scrambled off the bed, stomping towards the door
before Kirishima could get a word in. The door slammed,
followed quickly by a repeat of the noise as Kirishima gnawed
on the steak in confusion.
Suddenly, Bakugou appeared again, Switch held up in his
hand.
“Move over.”
Kirishima happily obliged.

Reason #19 to Die: I changed my official hero name to Riot

today since I’m not red anymore.
Not that I’ll be needing it soon.

60
 CHAPTER v

Reason #16 to Live: Bakugou drew a frowny face on my hand

today while we were studying.
He smiled.

The porcelain was cold against his skin as he sunk into the
bath, the faucet dripping slow. The splattering noise rang
through Kirishima’s ears. He noticed the red in the reflection
of the water, hand coming up to his hair.
Where was he?
Looking around, he noticed he was in his family’s bathroom,
though the door was missing and the walls were fuzzy, details
absent. He tried his best to reach over to the handles, wanting
to stop the dripping noise from continuing. He turned them to
the right, knob tightening, but the flow of water worsened.

61
Attempting the other direction, the water gushed out, filling
up the already full tub.
His hand reached out to stop the flow, but when he caught
sight of the red dripping into the water, he turned over his
wrist.
Scars started to reopen, filling his sight with red as he tried
desperately to stop the bleeding, but the cuts simply worsened.
His skin peeled back as he attempted to take in a breath.
His lungs filled with water, and he realized he had been pulled
under the surface. The once clear liquid turned murky and
crimson as Kirishima attempted to scream.

He shot up in bed, awoken by the heavy banging on his door.

“Idiot, we’re gonna be late for lunch. Hurry up!” Bakugou
yelled, slamming his fist against the wood. Kirishima threw
himself onto the floor, scrambling to the trash can as he
emptied his guts.
Tears stuck to his eyelashes as he looked at the back of his
eyelids, a horrible red.
The doorknob jiggled, “Ay? You alright? Don’t make me come
in there.”
Kirishima wiped at his mouth furiously, panting like a rabid
dog, “I’m good! Just give me a minute.”
He would have loved to sit on the floor and contemplate life,
but he was afraid his silence would cause Bakugou to come
into his room, so he sat up instead. Pulling himself off the
floor, he stumbled to a stance, hand gripping the bed.

62
“Kirishima, seriously, are you alright?” Bakugou asked, the
concern palpable.
“I said I’m fine!” Kirishima yelled, angry and bitter as the bad
taste settled onto his tongue, “Just give me one fucking
minute!”
Bakugou didn’t say anything, an awkward silence radiating
through the room. Kirishima threw on some deodorant and
changed his clothes, tossing the old ones into his overstuffed
laundry basket. He brushed through his hair quickly, still a bit
damp from the shower he managed to take last night.
Ruffling it up some, he stepped through the door, slipping his
shoes on as he did so. Sighing, he looked up into the hallway,
ready to head to the door.
Bakugou leaned against the wall, looking downcast, red eyes
dull as he rocked on his feet.
Kirishima stared at him, mind churning with guilt.
He was just trying to be nice and you hurt his feelings. Can’t
you let anyone be happy?
Kirishima grimaced, walking towards his friend, “Hey, I’m
sorry man.”
“No, it's alright,” Bakugou rasped, kicking himself off the
wall. His shoulders were sunken, pace lazy and slurred as he
fell into line with Kirishima. They walked in quiet, Kirishima
too angry at everything to attempt small talk as Bakugou
tripping into silent remorse.
Kirishima hated this, the disconnect between them that
seemed to tear at the recently placed stitches that had brought
them back together. Feeling the cracking rift in his chest,
Kirishima looped a hand around Bakugou’s wrist. He looked
at him, startled by the action of reassurance.

63
Kirishima’s fingers dug into the soft skin right under the bone
as he smiled sadly.
“I had a nightmare,” Kirishima whispered, letting go of his
wrist.
Bakugou grumbled, arms hovering in the space between him
before he pulled it back into his pocket, “You could’ve just told
me that.”
“I know. I’m sorry for snapping at you,” Kirishima sighed,
knocking lightly into his shoulder.
Bakugou straightened up a bit, smirking slightly.
The silence became more peaceful then, both boys feeling
better after the kind interaction. They stepped onto the
elevator, Kirishima pressed the button for the bottom floor.
The descent was slow, and Kirishima cursed the budget
shortcuts UA had taken.
“Hey,” Bakugou mumbled, leaning his head against the cool
metal of the elevator wall, “you can tell me about it. The
nightmare.”
Kirishima hummed, glancing at him, “No, for once I don’t
think I can.”
Bakugou’s breath hitched in this devastating way; it was as if
he’d just been shot in the chest,
“Why?”
Kirishima turned away, begging the final floor to show itself.
“Do you not trust me or something?” Bakugou growled, that
defensive edge reappearing. He didn’t look angry, he looked
like he was staring a particularly cruel death in the face.

64
As the doors slid open, they were met by the blinding light in
the entryway. Kirishima took in the brightness, sighing, “No.
I don’t. Not with this.”
He stepped out, leaving a stunned Bakugou behind.

Kirishima shifted uncomfortably in his seat, smashed between

Ochako and Bakugou as they all ate. He felt like he was
suffocating, eyes darting back and forth from one thigh to
another, hands trembling as he tried to breathe.
The people around him were talking, but he wasn’t hearing
anything. It was just buzzing mummers with the occasional
clear string of words.
“Kiri!” He heard, snapping his head upwards to face the noise.
Jirou looked at him expectantly, as did the rest of the table. His
chest tightened, air caught in the back of his throat as he
clawed desperately through his mind to find out what he had
been asked.
“Who did you intern with this summer?” Midoriya coaxed,
and Kirishima sighed at the relief of knowing.
Then, the fear came again. He hadn’t been an intern this
summer; he’d been in the hospital or kept locked up in his
room the whole time. His parents and UA had been afraid he’d
“do something reckless” if they let him be out on the field.
What was he supposed to say now; that he’d been too much
of a danger to himself to be a hero?
What a joke.

65
“I didn’t,” Kirishima answered, and everyone stared him
down. It was crushing, the number of eyes on him. Blood
roared in his ears as his heart pounded; his tongue tasting of
harsh copper as he realized he’d bitten it.
Mina scoffed from the back, only to get elbowed by Sero as
Kirishima ducked his head.
Iida lifted a hand, “Not to pry, but why is that so?”
“Yeah,” Momo said, soft voice interjecting, “Aren’t you afraid
you’ll fall behind ?”
“I-,” Kirishima started, only to be cut off.
“Everyone worked with someone this summer, my friend,”
Tokoyami said, Dark Shadow hovering above him.
“Guys, I’m sure it’s-” Ochako tried.
Mineta slammed his hands on the table, sneering, “You get a
hot girlfriend. Sorry, boyfriend ?”
“I’ll kill you,” Bakugou threatened, bringing up his palm,
sparks flying.
“I thought Gang Orca asked you to be his intern?” Sato said.
Jirou nodded, “You seemed really excited. What happened?”
There was no sound as everyone sank back into staring.
Kirishima gulped, back pressed hard into the leather seat. He
had to think of something to say or they would just keep
asking.
“I was… in the hospital,” He said finally, chopsticks clutched
hard in his hand.

66
No one seemed to move, afraid of what would happen if they
did. From the corner of his eye, he could see Sero and Denki
glance at each other. Mina fell back, staring at her plate.
“What?” Bakugou breathed, leaning forward to look him in
the eyes.
Kirishima shuddered, looking away. Ochako held his hand,
looking much more compassionate than he deserved.
What happened to not upsetting anyone? You’re such a
fucking failure.
Ochako gripped his fingers tight as Midoriya also leaned
forward to look at him, “What happened?”
“I’m fine,” Kirishima deflected, trying his best to act normal.
“Not fine enough to be a fucking intern,” Bakugou growled,
and Kirishima sunk back into Ochako, who slapped him.
She grimaced, “Not the right thing to say, Bakugou.”
Bakugou shut his mouth, fuming as he crossed his arms, “Fuck
you, Pink Cheeks.”
“Knock it off,” Midoriya said firmly, turning his attention to
Kirishima, “Are you alright?”
“As I said, I’m fine,” Kirishima said, trying his hardest to go
back to eating.
Momo shuffled in her seat, “It must’ve been bad for you to not
be able to participate in hero work, Kirishima.”
Most of the table hummed in agreement, and Kirishima closed
his eyes, trying to ignore the world.
His brain was pulsing under his skull as rested his face in his
hands.

67
Iida put a finger to his lips to silence the table, “Kirishima
seems overwhelmed at the moment, perhaps it’s best if we
leave the subject alone.”
“Yeah guys,” Jirou said, biting one of her nails, “besides, it’s
not like you almost died or anything, right?”
The muffled whispers continued for a second before everyone
realized Kirishima was not agreeing.
His throat completely clogged, he coughed. Ochako’s hand
squeezed tighter as Bakugou grabbed his shoulder. Not
looking at him on purpose, Kirishima stared at his free hand
as it tore through the leather.
“Oi, Kirishima,” Bakugou said, looking absolutely terrified,
“right?”
Kirishima shook his head, tearing his hand away from
Ochako, afraid he might hurt her. Bakugou fingers curled into
his skin, but Kirishima took some comfort in the pain.
Denki put his elbows on the table, hand in his hair as he stared
at the wall. Sero clamped his jaw shut hard.
Bakugou ripped him backward, forcing them to look at each
other, “You idiot! Why wouldn’t you tell me?” He yelled.
“Bakugou!” Ochako said, yanking Kirishima to her, “Stop!”
Kirishima stared into a sea of red as tears welled in his eyes.
They darted to Bakugou phone on the counter, orange case
bright and obvious.
“I did,” Kirishima whispered, trembling, “I tried, but you
wouldn’t return any of my texts or calls.”
He looked over to his past friends, all looking a bit pale, “I
tried to reach all of you. No one would answer.”

68
The world stilled, maybe from the silence or the lack of
movement. It didn’t matter, because it was so sickening that
the cause was irrelevant. Nausea from this morning had
returned full force as Kirishima flung himself under the table,
crawling to the other side.
It was embarrassing, childish even. He didn’t care though, as
long as he could escape. Sprinting to the exit, he could hear
the commotion behind him. There were blasts, yelling -
seemingly from Ochako and Bakugou - and breaking of
dishes.
Throwing himself through the doors, he ran for the dorms.

“You’re a fucking bastard!” Ochako screamed, wrestling

Bakugou off the booth and onto the ground, “You left him
alone!”
Bakugou tried to block the incoming punches, but it was half-
hearted at best. He let the blows fall, hoping they’d be a solid
excuse for tears. She continued to wail on him until scarred
hands reached under her waist and pulled her up.
Deku held onto her struggling frame as she kicked and pushed
against him, “No! I’m gonna kick his ass! Let me go!”
“You can kick his ass later, people are staring,” Deku warned,
turning her around, “besides, at least he was trying to fix
things.” He stared hard at the three ex-friends, grip tightening
slightly.
Ochako burned with an anger that could be seen in her eyes,
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you, slimy pink cunt .”

69
Most of the table gasped, Bakugou snickering from where he
lay on the floor. He wiped at his bleeding nose.
He had taught her well.
The commotion caused a frenzy in the lunchroom as Ochako
successfully kicked Deku’s kneecap hard enough for him to
let go.
“Don’t call me that! You weren’t there!” Mina screamed,
standing up. Sero and Denki both moved away from her.
Ochako laughed grimly as she slammed her fist on the table,
“I’m sure the story is very informational. Too bad I don’t give
a fuck about it.”
“When did you become such a bitch?” Mina asked, bending
forward. Everyone leaned back from the two girls with
caution.
Ochako attempted to get on the table before she was yanked
down, this time by Bakugou.
“When did I become such a bitch? Look in a mirror! You
haven’t been the same since last year.
What is wrong with you?” Ochako asked, fighting against
Bakugou much less than before.
“You don’t know shit!’ Mina said, hand leaking with acid.
Sero jumped up, yanking her arm down. He winced in pain
as the harsh chemicals fell onto his skin, burning him.
Sero elbowed her backward, trying to use a napkin to get the
acid off, “Mina! Knock it off!”
“So now you’re defending her?” Mina asked, shoving him
back. His shirt was eaten by the corrosive goo.

70
“Yes! We fucked up!” He cried, leaning forward so the burns
wouldn’t move to his skin.
Denki stood, pushing the whole table into the other side, Iida
stopping it with his hands, “Please,
Mina. Look at what we did to him! Why are you so insistent
on winning?”
“He broke my heart!” She yelled, her face flushed, “does that
not count for something?”
“Good. A miserable bitch like you deserves it,” Bakugou
growled, Ochako nodding her head.
Deku pushed between them both, “Can you cut it out? None
of this fighting is gonna do anything other than upset
Kirishima, which should be the last thing we’re trying to do.”
That seemed to cause the table to calm down, Bakugou’s hold
on Ochako becoming more of a hug as they both sunk into
guilt.
Mina was still seething, choosing to show it by stalking off.
Sero and Denki stayed put, however, feet stuck to the floor by
guilt.
“Now, I’m going to go talk to him,” Deku said, trying to wipe
away the emotional exhaustion from his face, “and the rest of
you are gonna go to class as if nothing happened. If Aizawa
asks you where I am, you tell him honestly.”
He stalked off, the table watching as he left.

71
Midoriya knocked calmly on the door, a far too familiar
feeling settling into his lungs. He heard some shuffling from
behind the wood.
Slowly, the knob turned, and the pair were face-to-face.
The raven-haired boy looked incredibly drained, the bags
under his eyes were deep, like a violet cavern.
Neither of them said anything, Midoriya greeting him with a
small smile.
When it became obvious Kirishima wouldn’t speak without
prompting, Midoriya took matters into his own hands.
“Kirishima,” Midoriya said, twiddling his thumbs nervously,
“I might be overstepping but…”
He looked down at his red shoes, a color Kirishima was
starting to hate.
“... you tried to kill yourself, didn’t you?”
Kirishima’s hand clamped down on the doorframe, wood
shattering under the pressure. Midoriya didn’t even flinch,
stepping forward instead. He placed a gentle hand onto
Kirishima’s shoulder, eyes filled with a revolting recognition.
“How did you…” Kirishima whispered.
Midoriya smiled at him sadly, his loose hand falling to his
other shoulder.
Red eyes widened; this look wasn’t pity, it was understanding.
“When I was in middle school, Ka…” Midoriya sucked in a
breath, “a bully told me to kill myself. My quirk didn’t show
until the summer I applied to UA. I was made fun of a lot for
being quirkless and I…” He cleared his throat, “I thought
maybe he had a point. Maybe I should.”

72
Ka
Whose name starts with a Ka...
chan.
“Bakugou..?” Kirishima asked, fear coursing through his
blood. He knew they hadn’t gotten along
but…
That’s why he didn’t answer. He wanted you to do it.
“He’s changed,” Midoriya assured, shaking him some, “He
apologized over the summer for a lot of things. I don’t think
those two are even the same person.”
They were the same person to him though. Kirishima had
never known Bakugou in middle school; they both didn’t like
to talk about those years.
He would’ve eaten you alive. You were equal once… Now
look at you.
Midoriya wrapped him in a hug. Kirishima realized then that
he was a lot taller than he used to be, stronger too. Kirishima
tried his best to return it, the exhaustion eating at him.
Midoriya persisted, “I know that look you have. Last week you
dropped off all those collectibles in front of my door,”
Kirishima could hear the sniffle from below him, “it was like
you were trying to tell me you weren’t going to need them
anymore.”
Kirishima felt the tears slide down his cheeks, eyes still
unblinking. He was angry at Midoriya; angry he knew about
the plans Kirishima had wanted him to notice. The hypocrisy
of his actions hadn't escaped him.

73
“Please, Kirishima,” Midoriya urged, “don’t. I know it
probably doesn’t mean anything right now, but our class
would be devastated.”
That, Kirishima knew wasn’t true. It had been clear since the
second he’d spent his nights in the hospital alone.
He didn’t want to upset Midoriya, so he returned the hug,
nodding.
“Katsuki would be devastated.”
Kirishima flinched at the name, the first name. Something
deep in him wanted to disagree; it wanted to tell Midoriya to
stop lying.
He choked back the protest, pressing tighter instead.

There was a dark stairwell right off the side of the dorms.
Bakugou didn’t take the stairs often anymore; the superiority
that came with saying he did had disappeared long ago.
He had used them today.
He wanted to know if Kirishima was okay.
Sitting against the wall, he closed his wet eyes as he listened
to the voices. The guilt of knowing he was almost the reason
his best friends were dead crawled under his skin like a
parasite.
It was suffocating, like sludge; thick like the alleyway in
middle school, and he swore he could hear the burning of
paper and the snapping of bones. There was the whooshing of
air and screams.

74
A different time. A different place.
Kirishima didn’t need him right now.

Reason #57 to Die: I miss my mom.

She doesn’t miss me.
I’ve been waiting for a phone call for weeks and there’s been
nothing.
I am nothing.

75
 CHAPTER vi

Hey, Bakugou.
It’s… been a while since we spoke. Which sucks. I miss you,
like, a lot.
Haha… maybe that’s weird.

Kirishima looked around, feeling completely enclosed in the

small space of his therapist’s office.
His discussion with Midoriya had been eating at him for the
past couple of days. He had known Bakugou was a bully but
he didn’t know it had been that bad. He thought maybe it had
been teasing and insults - which was bad, but it wasn't this.
On top of that, he’d been ignoring Bakugou. It was like they
had flipped roles, Kirishima tuning out the constant buzzing
of his phone.

76
It felt shitty, he had no idea how Bakugou did it for so long.
He wanted to flip his phone over and look at the screen so
badly, even if it was just to see if Bakugou was okay.
To be fair, he always has been stronger than you.
Kirishima nodded to himself, a confirmation that he was just
as weak as everyone thought.
“What are you thinking about,” Ito asked, crossing his arms.
His face was still kind, but he looked concerned.
Kirishima could feel the bags under his eyes, that neverending
presence of tiredness that coated every piece of him all the
way to his core. It was so draining, giving everything he had
just to stay alive.
Ito coughed, trying to regain Kirishima’s attention,
“Something to do with school?”
Leaning back, Kirishima resting his head on the back of the
couch, “Me and Bakugou… we,”
Closing his eyes, he sighed, “We reconnected when I came
back, y’know?”
“Yes,” Ito agreed, “I know. You told me last time you were
here. Did something happen?”
Kirishima opened his eyes again, “Yeah.”
Ito tapped his pen against his notebook, “Do you want to tell
me about it?”
He didn’t, not one bit, but he didn’t know how much longer
he could keep this inside. “He… There’s this kid in my class,
Midoriya. He’s a friend of mine too. They didn’t get alone in
middle school, at all actually.”

77
His shoulders sunk, teeth clenched tight, “I knew their
relationship was bad, but I guess I didn't understand how bad
it was. Bakugou, he… told Midoriya to kill himself.”
“I could see how that would affect you very deeply,” Ito said,
knuckles on his lips.
“Yeah well,” Kirishima said, burning with anger, “Midoriya
keeps insisting that he changed. He says he’s not the same
person he was in middle school.”
“Well, has he changed?” Ito asked, leaning back into his chair.
Kirishima fiddled with his fingers, eyes cast downward, trying
to dodge Ito’s gaze. Bakugou was different, he could admit
that. His explosiveness was still there, sure, but he was kinder
- at least outwardly. He didn’t blow up as much, and he stayed
calm under insults.
And… he and Izuku were best friends. Not just implied friends
followed by the excuses of knowing each other forever. Real,
genuine best friends.
That was because they had changed, had grown.
Looking up into the round mirror on Ito’s left, he caught sight
of himself, his sad, weak self.
If anyone hadn’t grown, it was him. He was identical to the
kid from middle school, with black hair and dark eyes. The
same terrified expression covered his face, showing how
much of a coward he really was.
He hated this kid, so why wouldn’t Bakugou.
“He’s changed,” Kirishima rasped, cheeks becoming wet as he
began to cry, “but I haven’t.”
Ito squinted at him, looking like he was trying to solve a very
intricate puzzle, “You don’t think you’ve changed?”

78
“I know I haven’t,” Kirishima admitted, skin itching with the
need to hurt himself. “Look at me. How am I any different
than I was before.”
Ito sucked in a very telling breath, hands connecting at the
fingertips, “And… tell me, what did middle school you do that
was so bad?”
Kirishima was fuming, sick of these god-awful questions, “He
was a coward!”
“He was a kid.”
Kirishima didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything. It was
like a chuck of him had cracked off and shattered into a
million tiny pieces. There was only half of his body left.
“He was a scared kid who didn’t know any better,” Ito
insisted, crowding his space, “You are a kid.”
“I’m supposed to be stronger than that!” Kirishima yelled,
slamming his fist on the table, cracking the wood. “I’m gonna
be a hero for fucks sake! How am I supposed to do that when
I can’t save myself?!”
Ito set a hand on his shoulder, “You can. Kirishima, you can.”
Kirishima slapped Ito’s hand away, sight blurry through the
tears, “What if…. What if I don’t want to?” He shot up, hands
out protectively, “What if I don’t want to save myself?”
He tried to steady himself against the side of the couch, head-
spinning, “I’m not worth saving.”
Ito stood as well, calm under Kirishima’s storm, “That’s not
true. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.” Sighing, he closed his
eyes, “Kirishima, don’t you get it? Bakugou, Midoriya,
Ochako, all these people you’re telling me about, they think
you’re worth saving.”

79
“They’re wrong,” Kirishima rasped.
“So, you don’t trust them?” Ito asked.
“No, I-.”
“Why are you the exception?” He said, grabbing Kirishima’s
shoulders. “What makes you the one thing they’re wrong
about.”
Kirishima shook his head, “They don’t know me. Not really.
Nobody does.”
Ito caught Kirishima’s stare, “Then let them in. Let them see
who you really are.”
“And if they leave?” Kirishima said, voice wavering.
“They won’t,” he assured, "Eijirou, they won't."
Kirishima fell into him, sobbing. Ito caught him, holding the
boy up as he cried.

Bakugou sat on his dorm room floor, head in his hands. They
were bloody and bruised, skin cracked from the tantrum he
had just thrown. They shook violently, fingers shredded.
Surveying his room, he took in the mess he had made. His bed
frame was broken and the mattress had dozens of burn marks,
sheets singed, and smoking. His mirror was shattered, there
were holes in the plaster, and wallpaper was shredded.
He hadn’t lost his temper like this in so long, but Kirishima’s
silence was killing him.

80
It was stupid, being upset about something he had done first.
He’d done the same thing to Kirishima for three months. If this
is what Kirishima’s entire summer felt like, who was he to be
sad about it?
You deserve what’s happening to you.
Bakugou rested his head against the wall, drained of all
energy. He was so tired of fucking everything up.
Why would anyone want to be friends with you? You break
everything you touch. Your hands are made to kill.
He had been thinking a lot of fucked up things lately. Now
that Kirishima knew the truth, he had left him.
And Katsuki deserved it.
One day, he knew he would face the consequences of his
middle school self’s actions. He had hoped, however, his
relationship with Kirishima wouldn’t be affected. How dumb
of him; Kirishima had told him - confided in him - his
insecurities over his quirk. Of course his friend would be hurt
by the kid he used to be.
And, to be honest, he wasn’t sure he would’ve liked Kirishima
in middle school either.
Kirishima seemed to be kind and collected, the type to stick up
for the kids Bakugou constantly bullied. The old Bakugou
would’ve called him a coward or a weakling.
Bakugou hated him for it. He hated that stupid little boy that
thought he was the only person alive.
This kid he had spent years trying to push down deep inside
himself had come back to destroy everything. He was furious
he couldn’t change it. All the hurt he had caused would

81
eternally be there. He would always be just another childhood
bully.
“Kacchan,” Deku said, beating on the door. “Shoji called me
saying he heard explosions. Are you okay?”
Bakugou banging his fist on the wall, “Fuck off, Deku.”
The door opened with a creak, Deku stepping through the
entrance. He stopped when he saw the state of the room,
backtracking slightly. Looking around in confusion, his eyes
landed on Bakugou.
“Kacchan? What happened?” Deku asked, genuine concern
in his voice.
Bakugou turned away, grimacing, “I’m fine.”
“Your room is destroyed. How is that fine?” Deku said,
walking over to him. He bent down, taking a seat next to his
friend. “Kacchan, you can tell me.”
Bakugou sniffled, wiping his nose with his bloody fingers,
“Can you get the fuck out?”
Deku sighed, “Just tell me what’s going on, please?”
He slumped over a bit, holding onto his broken hands, “I
heard your conversation the other day. I heard all of it.”
“Oh," Deku said, patting his shoulder, “I-,”
“I was in the stairwell. I had come up to check on him, but I
didn’t want to interrupt so I just waited,” Bakugou said,
resting his head against his knees. “I heard what you said
about… middle school, and about what I said to you.”
Deku made a noise of discontent, “Look, I didn’t mean to make
you feel bad.”

82
“You should’ve,” Bakugou said, looking at him. “I’m an awful
person, aren’t I?” His eyes were wet, face tilting slightly
upwards as not to let the tears fall. “You both almost died,
almost killed yourselves because of me. I’m a monster, a
fucking monster, and now.”
He collapsed into himself, finally breaking under the pressure,
“Now he won’t talk to me anymore. It’s dumb for me to be
upset because I did that to him for three fucking months and
I can’t even handle two days.”
Deku hummed, thinking hard, “Well, it is kind of payback for
this summer, but I'm sure he didn’t mean to make you feel that
way.” He breathed, studying in the ruined room, “You sucked
in middle school, a lot. You were a raging bitch, really. I hated
the way you treated me, even if I didn’t hate you.”
Bakugou’s shoulders shook, cries kept completely silent.
“But,” Deku said, grabbing his wrist, “you’ve changed, really
and truly grown. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you
haven’t.”
He tugged on his arm so that Bakugou would look at him, “I’m
proud of you. I’m proud of us. ”
Bakugou turned away, “I ruined everything Izuku,
everything. He hates me, I can tell. I just started to fix things
and now the old me went a fucking destroyed all my
progress.”
“It’s a setback, one you can move on from,” Deku reassured.
“I know you, and I know him. He’s probably hurting, but if
anyone’s seen your progress it’s him.”
Bakugou didn’t feel like that was true, not one bit. He didn’t
know if he would ever feel like he deserved the forgiveness,
but this wasn’t about him. It was about Deku and Kirishima.

83
And if one of them had chosen to forgive him, perhaps he
could get the other one to as well. It would take a lot of
convincing, and maybe some begging, but he could do it.
Probably.

Kirishima raised his fist to the door, trying to convince himself

to knock. He was shaking like a cold dog, terror licking at his
heels. Ito had convinced him that, even if it was scary, they
needed to talk.
He didn’t really know what to say, the playbook he had in his
head wasn’t likely to play out, but he had to know. He had to
know if Bakugou hated him.
He tapped the door gently, the noise barely audible. Mentally
kicking himself, he sighed. Why did he have to be such a
coward all the time?
There was shuffling from behind the wood, the sounds of
footsteps and things being kicked around. The door opened
slightly, a red eye peeking out from the side. As soon as it
caught sight of him, it widened.
Swinging the door open, Bakugou stared at him, lips tugged
barely upward, “Kirishima?” He asked breathlessly.
Taken aback, he scratched at his arms nervously. The words
seemed stuck in his throat somewhere, the itchiness crawling
from his lungs and to his lips. He couldn’t even make eye
contact with the blonde.
“I’m sorry,” they both said in unison, eyes snapping upwards.
Bakugou went to say something but chose not to, mouth still

84
half hung open. Kirishima, wanting a distraction from the
discomfort of his own skin, grabbed his wrist.
He took in a deep breath, “I am… numb all the time and I-.”
He used both of his hands to hold Bakugou’s, “I tried to kill
myself this summer because I thought it would be so much
better than being here. No one seemed to want me around,
and if no one liked me and I didn’t like me, why should I stay?”
Gently, he pushed himself into Bakugou’s space, walking
them back in the room. He shut the door with his foot, “That
feeling hasn’t gone away. I'm sad and angry, sometimes I blow
up without meaning to. I’m working on it. I’m trying to get
better but… I need you to tell me that you don’t hate me.”
Kirishima squeezed his hand, “Tell me that this me is okay
too.”
Bakugou didn’t say anything for a moment, thoughts fuzzy as
he tried to shake them back to clear like a sad etch-a-sketch.
“Kirishima, I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t
good enough. I thought-,” he stopped, cringing at his own
words, “No, whether I meant it or not it still hurt you and you
didn’t deserve that.”
He returned the grasp, Kirishima’s lip trembling under the
implications of such a small action, “I spent so much time
worried about fixing things with Deku that I left you behind.
That… wasn’t fair.” He rolled his eyes away, trying to fight off
that lump in his throat.
Bakugou laughed sadly, “You remember everyone in class’s
birthday, you keep mementos from people you’ve hardly met
because they’re that important to you, and you have a list of
everyone’s favorite snacks for when it’s your turn to get
groceries for the class.”
He smiled softly, barely noticeable, “I know you hate the color
pink but still wear it sometimes because Ochako always gets

85
excited, and you geek out with Deku even though you don’t
like All
Might that much. For fuck’s sake Kiri, you put up with me,
even from the beginning.”
“I’m sorry, Kirishima,” he returned his gaze to sad eyes, “that
I made you feel like any you isn’t good enough.” Gritting his
teeth under the embarrassment, he sighed, “I like all of you.”
Expecting some sort of response, probably an angry one,
Bakugou stared at him. Kirishima laughed, tears finally
escaping the confines of his eyes, “God, you looked like
complimenting me was going to kill you.”
“I tried my best dammit!” He yelled, his face dusted with light
crimson as little pops exploded from between their hands.
Bakugou let out several curses, all covered by Kirishima’s
laughter.
Hands still intertwined, Kirishima moved forward, resting his
head on Bakugou's shoulder. Letting out a grunt of surprise,
Bakugou’s tirade ceased.
“Do you mean it, what you said?” Kirishima rasped, removing
his hands from Bakugou’s to wrap them under his arms,
hands landing on his shoulder blades.
Bakugou slowly moved his hands as well, sliding them over
Kirishima’s waist and onto his back, “I don’t say shit I don’t
fucking mean.”
“Well,” Kirishima whispered, pressing his face into the crook
of Bakugou’s neck, “I like all of you too.”
They stayed like that for a moment, basking in the feeling of
each other's embrace. Then, Kirishima pulled away.

86
"What happened to your room?" Kirishima said, looking
confused.
Bakugou grimaced, "I, uh, got angry and tore it apart."
"Oh," Kirishima said. He smiled, far too bright for the dark and
gloomy room, "Let me help you pick up."
Bakugou shook his head, "Absolutely not. I made the mess, I'll
clean it up."
"C'mon, it'll be like the first day we were in the dorms!
Remember when I helped you unpack?" Kirishima asked.
"Of course I do," Bakugou said, rolling his eyes.
"You were a real bitch back then," Kirishima said, grinning.
Bakugou huffed, "Yeah, I was, huh?" Taking in the sight of
Kirishima, who was bouncing nervously on his feet, he broke,
"Fine, you can help."
Kirishima agreed excitedly, following after Bakugou as he
made his way to the worst of the mess.

“Do you really think they’ll figure it out?” Ochako muttered,

peeking out from the stairwell.
Deku nodded, “I have faith in both of them.”
“Well duh,” Ochako said sardonically, punching his shoulder
lightly, “but this is, like, a big deal. I just want them both to be
happy again. They look so sad all the time.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, looking at her quizzically, “How did your
talk with Mina go?”

87
She rolled her eyes, “Bad. Denki and Sero were on my side at
least. I just don’t think Mina wants to admit she’s wrong. To
be fair, after fucking up this big, I probably wouldn’t either.”
“She’s dug her hole deep enough, she can pull herself out on
her own,” Deku muttered, eyes glued on the door.
There was the sound of small pops, some louder than others,
and then Kirishima’s booming laughter. Smiling, the pair
exchanged glances, sharing a small fist bump.
“I think they’ll be fine without us,” Deku said, Ochako
nodding.
“Let’s go get mochi.”

I don’t think I’m coming back to UA. Uh, I just don’t think I’m
cut out for all of this… stuff, if you know what I mean.
Do you want me to come back? Like, would you miss me if I
wasn’t there?

88
 CHAPTER vII

Reason #74 to Live: Bakugou’s hair is just as soft against my

lips as I thought it would be.

Walking down the stairs, Kirishima kept his eyes on the floor.
He felt sluggish and exhausted, unable to properly move. Too
tired to even keep his eyes open, he yawned.
He had spent the night helping Bakugou clean his room, both
of them inevitably falling into bed without much of a thought,
passing out in the early hours of the morning. Thankfully, his
bedroom was as back to normal as it could be. Some things
still needed replacing. He assumed that’s what Bakugou was
doing on his phone during English. Not that Kirishima had
been looking, absolutely not.
If he was, no one could prove it.

89
Kirishima had managed to pull together enough energy to
make it through his classes that day, even finishing most of his
homework during his last period. Training had been canceled
since the exercise grounds were under repair, so he had
escaped the sore muscles that were sure to come had they
proceeded.
He reached the bottom of the stairs, only to be yanked off to
the side. Stumbling, he fell into the body that had pulled him
away. Screwing his head back together, Kirishima looked up
to the person.
His vision was filled with pink.
Panicking, he drew away. Mina looked bored, maybe a little
pissed; whatever emotion it was, it wasn’t pleasant.
“Kirishima,” she said, leaning into the wall.
He scratched his name nervously, eyes shifting, “Hey, Mina.”
“Don’t ‘Hey, Mina’ me, jackass,” Mina bit, bending forward
menacingly.
He snapped his mouth shut, shoulders bunching up in
apprehension, “Right. Sorry.”
Rolling her eyes, she sighed, “Is that all you ever do anymore,
nod your head and agree?”
Kirishima opened his mouth to say something, but Mina lifted
her hand, “Forget it. I already know the answer.”
There was a tense silence between the two, air thick with
animosity. Kirishima wanted to say something, but couldn’t
think of the words that seemed right.
Scuffing her shoes against the floor, Mina kicked his leg, “I’m
here to apologize. Well, that’s what I told Ochako anyways.”

90
“What are you here to do then?” Kirishima asked, shifting on
his feet.
Mina propelled herself off the wall, putting a hand on each of
his arms, “You’re a dick.”
Taken aback, Kirishima felt his body begin to fill with rage,
“I’m a dick? I’m a dick?! Are you insane?”
“You act like you’re entirely innocent! You know you’re not,”
Mina whispered, voice somehow still powerful. “Don’t act
like you were a fucking angel of a friend,” she said, holding
her phone up to his face.
Kirishima tried to look down to the screen, eyes failing to see
the text and Mina ripped it away.
“Do you know what this says?” Mina asked, getting his space.
Failing to think of a reason Mina would be so upset, Kirishima
shook his head. Scoffing, Mina began to read from the screen,
“Hey Mina, I hope this text finds you well since it’s obvious
none of the other ones fucking did.”
Eyes widening, Kirishima reached for the phone, “Wait. Hold
on.”
“Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch this wouldn’t have
happened, but for some reason you’re too stubborn to believe
that anyone else on Earth is as important to you,” Mina bit,
becoming increasingly angry.
He hadn’t sent that. Sure, he had typed it out when he…. was
in the bathtub but he hadn’t sent it.
Right?
“I hope you know that when I,” Mina stumbled, breathing
heavily as she reread the words, “when I kill myself, it’s all

91
your fault.” She sucked in a stuttered breath, “I hope it haunts
you for the rest of your fucking life.”
Shaking, Kirishima shook his head, hands out like he was
begging, “Mina, please. I didn’t know I hit send.”
I didn’t hit send. I didn’t hit send. I didn’t hit send.
“You left me here all alone like I never mattered,” she
continued, ignoring him. “Is this what you wanted, for me to
feel like I never amounted to anything? I don’t know what you
told them, but no one will answer my texts or calls. I hate you.
I hate you.”
“I was so angry at the time and I was trying to get it all out. I
didn’t mean to hurt you. Please, I’m so sorry,” he pleaded.
“Now you’re sorry? You sent this, pressed the fucking button,
and everything. You had months to apologize and you choose
to now?” Mina laughed bitterly, “You are a fucking coward.”
Kirishima grabbed her hands as softly as he could under the
panic, “I know. I know, okay?” He took in body rocking
breathes, eyes glassy, “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean for you
to see it.”
“But I did!” Mina yelled, shoving him to the ground, his head
thumping against the wall. She let out a furious noise, face
twisted in hatred, “I saw it, and now I know you actually tried
to do it. You seriously tried to kill yourself!"
Kirishima rasped, terror resting in his bones, “How do you
know?”
“Come on!” Mina screamed, bending down over him, “I find
out you went to the hospital right after you send me this and
I’m supposed to think it was anything else?”

92
“This is what you wanted me to know before you did it?”
Tearing up, she bent over him as he rubbed his sore skull,
“How was I supposed to fix our friendship when this is the
last thing you wanted me to hear? You acted like I was a
monster. You tried to kill yourself because you were lonely
just to make me feel bad about it?”
“No,” Kirishima whimpered, hands trembling as he tried to
protect himself. “I was so angry that you left me alone, I typed
out every horrible thing I could think of. I wanted to hurt you
the way you hurt me.”
The room fell into an odd calmness, both with tears in their
eyes they refused to admit to sharing, “When I read it again,
it sounded so stupid, and I knew it was wrong. I thought,”
Kirishima lifted his head, “I thought I deleted it. I was…
tired.”
Hand dropping down to her waist, Mina stared at him, “Why
were you tired?”
Kirishima didn’t answer, looking away. She grabbed his face,
yanking his head towards her’s, cheeks covered in tears,
“Why the fuck were you tired? Answer me!”
“I was bleeding!” Kirishima answered, sobbing. He shoved her
hand away, pushing her backward so she fell to his height.
Mina crawled back some, “You were bleeding?” She stared up
to the ceiling, a sick look of recognition on her face, “You were
bleeding.”
Neither of them said anything, Kirishima huddled into himself
against the wall. Mina’s eyes were still on the tile above them.
“You were dying, weren’t you?” she whispered, wiping at the
tears. “You sent that to me while you were dying.”

93
“I didn’t mean it,” he whimpered, teeth grit together. “I was
so weak, and everything was so… dark. I must have hit send
on accident. I didn’t mean it. ”
There was no refuge anywhere; he couldn’t hide from his
colossal fuck-up anymore. It was right there beneath the blue
light.
Mina stood up, no offering of help to give to him. She looked
tired, burdened.
She looked like him.
“You did,” she said, staring at the wall above him. “Maybe
you don’t anymore, but you did then.”
Shifting away, she smacked her hand against her thigh as if
trying to calm herself, “Can you imagine what it’s like to hear
the person you… love tell you that you’re the reason they’re
going to kill themselves.”
She paused, before looking back at him, “What if Bakugou
had sent you that text?”
Something hot and sharp burst through him like he’d been
shot, mind running through the scenario over and over in just
a few seconds. The thought of Bakugou lying in a bathtub
filled with red, murky water was enough to make him sick.
Head rolled to the side, eyes glossed over as his mother beat
on the door.
Katsuki, please! Answer me!
All that life washing away right down the drain.
“It was the worst thing that has ever happened to me. I might
be a bitch now, but I wasn’t back then,” she said, gesturing
backward. “I left because being around you hurt, Kirishima.
Sero and

94
Denki abandoned you on their own.” Mina scratched her
arm, “Why was that my fault?”
Kirishima shut his eyes, “I never said it was. I didn’t want you
to apologize, okay? All the horrible stuff you’ve done to me, I
deserved. You were right to treat me like that.”
Kirishima was too tired to keep arguing, “I’ve always deserved
the bad things that happen to me. I just didn’t know it at the
time, so I was mad. I was angry everyone had left,” he sniffled,
“but now I realized you were right to go.”
“I fuck everything up,” he said, emotionless, “No one should
be ruined with me.”
Mina stared at him, black eyes looking everywhere and
nowhere at once.
“I’m sorry,” she said, turning around to leave, “I’m sorry that
I hurt you. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone so far but…” she
sighed, “I guess being angry gives you a pass to be a bad
person, at least according to you.”
He attempted to reach out, only for her to move away from his
hand, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about your text. I
haven’t even told Sero and Denki, so what’s the point of
making everything worse?”
“You stay away from me,” Mina said, walking away. “And I’ll
stay away from you. No point in ruining each other.”
Kirishima could do nothing but nod, sinking back into the
brick wall.
The voice in the back of his head took over, returning from its
shallow grave.
If anyone’s the monster here, it’s you.

95
Bakugou bounced his leg up and down, sat on the couch with
Deku and Ochako. They both looked just as concerned as he
did. They had all decided they would meet up for a movie, a
simple distraction from the day.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Ochako tried to reassure, “just delayed.”
It brought no comfort.
To be honest, Bakugou was terrified when Kirishima was even
a minute late these days. He’d fidget nervously and check the
clock and his phone a hundred times, waiting for something.
It felt like a sign he shouldn’t ignore, eyes always searching
for red hair and sharp teeth.
Because, if he wasn’t where he was supposed to be then
maybe…
Maybe he was in his room.
Alone.
Dead.
Trying to shake the thought away, Bakugou rested his head in
his hands. His muscles were tense, just like the rest of him,
and he could feel the oncoming headache settling into his
skull.
He stood up, needing to move, “I’m going to check on him.”
The couple exchanged a glance before nodding. Bakugou
stalked off, making his way towards the stairs.

96
His stomach felt twisted, knotted together by apprehension
and worry. Kirishima had promised he would be there, and
now he wasn’t. There were plenty of reasons that might be,
but only one was swirling through his head.
He took two steps at a time.
He burst through the stairwell door, moving faster than he
wanted to, but his body was running on adrenaline.
As he reached for his friend's door handle the chemicals faded
fast, replaced by an icy fear that stopped him in his tracks.
He wanted to open the door so bad, to rip it open to make sure
everything was okay.
But what if it wasn’t?
The pounding of his heart refused to cease as he knocked
softly, “Kirishima?”
There was no answer.
“Kirishima?” He tried again, turning the handle some.
Nothing.
Panicked, he threw the door open, bursting in.
Kirishima stood in front of him, looking pissed. Sighing in
relief, Bakugou shook his head, “Fuck, Shitty Hair, you scare-
.”
“Did I say you could come in?” Kirishima bit, shoving him
back.
Slamming into the wall, Bakugou growled, “What the fuck!”
“I said, did I say you could come in?” Kirishima said again,
cracking his knuckles. His eyes burned bright with anger.

97
“No! But who gives a fuck! You could’ve-.”
“Been dead?” Kirishima replied, rolling his eyes. He laughed
bitterly, shaking his fist, “Suddenly you’re all worried about
me.”
Bakugou sunk a bit, “That’s not fair.”
“I think it’s perfectly fair,” Kirishima said, backing off. “I
think this summer proved enough.”
“You’re just trying to push me away! I won’t let you,”
Bakugou answered, moving away from the plaster. “I know
what you’re doing. I tried to do it myself.”
Kirishima grumbled, face dark, “You don’t know shit about
me.”
“Then let me! Let me know you!” Bakugou pleaded, hands
outstretched. “You did it for me once, now let me do it for
you.”
“I slit my wrists in the bathtub,” Kirishima bit, getting into
Bakugou’s space.
Bakugou’s face contorted into disbelief, “What?”
“I cut my wrist with my mom’s broken razor and now she
hasn’t shaved in three months. My dad busted down the door
and broke his fingers doing it and now he can’t make his
fucking bento box in the morning because his hands shake
from the nerve damage,” Kirishima growled, balling up his
fist in Bakugou’s shirt.
“My mom had the tub replaced because she couldn’t get the
red ring on it to go away. Don’t you get it?” He slammed
Bakugou, still speechless, against the wall. “I am a fucking
burden on everyone I touch! Even when I’m trying to do
something good I fuck everything up!”

98
“Why is killing yourself good?” Bakugou asked, voice broken
like the chipped tile on Kirishima’s bathroom floor.
Unstoppable fingers rested against immovable skin.
Kirishima dropped his face away from his gaze, “Because if
I’m gone, so is the burden.”
“Isn’t that better for everyone?”
Bakugou bit the inside of his cheek, fingers curling into the
far too soft skin, “No. Fuck, Eijirou.
Please, tell me you don’t believe that. Killing yourself... it's not
the answer you think it is."
Kirishima shook his head, resting it against the blonde’s
sternum, “It has to be the right answer because I’m just a
fucked up patchwork mess of all the shitty things that make
me a person. A terrible, depressed, coward of a person.”
Bakugou rested his lips against the other’s hairline, muttering
into his skin so it would soak through, “I like patchwork.”
“What?” Kirishima asked.
“I lived in fashion my whole life. I know what patchwork
looks like up close,” He said, pulling Kirishima closer.
“Sometimes it’s weird and crooked with all those ugly fucking
colors and shit, but it’s real. Everything is just a stitched-up
dumpster fire of parts, that doesn’t make it bad. If you’re
patchwork, then I like patchwork. It’s that simple.”
Kirishima pulled his head up, inches away from Bakugou’s
face, “And what if I fall apart?”
“I know how to sew.”
Kirishima stared at for a moment before trying his hardest to
hold back a smile, “You do?”

99
Bakugou groaned, throwing his head against the wall, “I was
trying to - fuck I don’t know - have a moment?”
Kirishima nodded, wiping at the tears as he laughed, “It was
nice. I liked it.”
"I'm serious though. You're not bad, even if your pieces are a
little disconnected," Bakugou said. "I know I can't convince
you of that right now, but I will. I promise I will."
Kirishima loosened some, relaxing as he listened to Bakugou's
words, "Thanks Bakugou."
Bakugou looked at him, taking in all his features. Red eyes
with small bags and a toothy smile.
There was this swelling in his chest, heart thundering under
the storm that was Kirishima Eijirou.
Reaching out a shaky hand, he rested it on his cheek, still even
as Kirishima flinched.
“Hey,” Bakugou said, voice dripping with caramel,
“Kirishima.”
Staring, Kirishima simply nodded in response. Bakugou
leaned in closer,
The room stilled, both of them inches away from the other. He
rested his other hand on Kirishima’s waist, holding on
tenderly. Their noses were almost connected, “I think I-.”
His phone rang.
Startled, they both jumped, Bakugou frantically reaching for
his phone. He ripped it out of his pocket, bodies still
connected.
“What?” He growled, furiously clutching the phone. The
caller ID, Number 1 Loser, flickered on the screen.

100
“Is everything ok?” Deku asked politely.
Bakugou let out a frustrated noise. Scoffing, he went to tell
Deku off, fire burning inside of him.
He gasped as there was a soft press of lips to his neck under
his jaw. Kirishima's hair tickled his cheek as the boy blew air
against his warm skin.
“Y-Yeah. We’ll be down in a minute!” Bakugou called,
hanging up fast.
The peppering kisses continued up the side of his face, hands
on his waist pulling him close. He tried to tuck his head away,
but there was no escape. He gritted his teeth to not let any
noise out.
Kirishima chuckled, lips against his hairline, “We should
probably head down there.”
“What?” Bakugou asked breathlessly, hands in Kirishima’s
hair.
“The others are worried, so we should head downstairs,” He
said it like it was the obvious thing in the world.
Bakugou glanced around in disbelief, “You can’t just… I-.”
“Come on,” Kirishima said, grabbing his wrist and pulling
him out of the door, “We’re already late!”
Bakugou stumbled after him, still in shock from the events
minutes before. Shuffling to keep up, he looked down at their
intertwined hands and smiled.

101
The rift in Kirishima's chest was wider than ever, but he had
to ignore it. His plan would work out, he knew that, but maybe
he could enjoy the little things before he went.
Like the smell of caramel and high-end shampoo.
Besides, if Bakugou thought there was something wrong, he'd
try to stop him.
He couldn't let that happen.

Deku watched the screen, end credits scrolling as Ochako

whimpered beside him. He wept freely.
“Kirishima, can you hand me the tissue?” He blubbered,
reaching towards the other end of the couch. When there was
no response, he looked over, “Kiri?”
Kirishima was cuddled up on the couch, fast asleep. Bakugou
was curled up in his lap, face against his stomach as his
blonde hair fell over his face.
Their hands were tangled together.
Smiling, Deku pulled the blanket off of him, laying gently over
the two as he and Ochako left them alone.
As their footsteps disappeared, Bakugou smiled softer,
snuggling in close.

Reason #95 to Die: I sent the text. I sent the text. I sent the text

102
 CHAPTER vIII

Reason #60 to Live: Ochako and I created a special move

today. She floats me high into the air, and I come crashing
down

His tennis shoes hit the pavement with a wet slap, the sidewalk
rainy from the day before.
Kirishima lifted his bangs with his fingers, a bit hot from the
humid air. The birds chirped melodies around him, and there
was a smile on his face.
His notebook was tucked under his arm.
He was heading to his favorite childhood park, where a very
important testament to his past lay.
Passing the gate, he opened the book, flipping through the
pages.

103
It had been a week since his confrontation with Mina, and she
had made good on her promise. She had left him alone, no
insults or gossip; there was only passive silence.
It hasn’t been as nice as he thought.
Sighing, he tapped a hand against the metal swing set,
stepping in a puddle as he did so.
Thankfully, the water was minimal, so his sock remained dry.
He had been noticing the little things a lot lately. Just the other
day he realized Ochako, Iida, and Deku had matching
bracelets. He had made a point to sketch them in the back of
his journal.
Kirishima knew that the notebook would probably be found
after he died. He didn’t want it to be all bad. Maybe someone
would read through it someday and realize he had been happy
in moments. Perhaps, if they knew him, it would ease some of
the pain.
He made it to the bench, sitting down on the cool metal after
he brushed away the water. Leaning back, he basked in the
morning sun for a brief second.
Blinking, he felt the drip of water on his face as the leaves on
the tree above him shook. Some it landed on the pages as well,
soaking through the paper into tiny splatters.
Staring at it, he pulled his pen out of his pocket and clicked it.
He set the ballpoint against the page.
Hello, my name is Eijirou Kirishima.
I am a 3rd-year student at UA High School in the Hero Course.
I went by the hero name Red Riot originally, but it’s since been
changed to Riot. My hair was black in middle school, and then
I changed it to red in high school, but I got sick of it and dyed

104
it back. I like meaty foods and Katsuki Bakugou. I hate
cowards, hypocrites, and the sound of styrofoam rubbing
together.
I am also dead.
I assume you already know that by now since it’ll be on the
news. Don’t worry! I promise I’m gonna get it right this time,
and I’m not going to let anyone down.
As you can probably tell, I’ve been trying to list things that
make me want to live and die. I’d like to say I gave myself a
fighting chance, but I’ve always been a loser.
This year has been tough, but I want you to know that’s not
why I’m doing this. I know people are going to get hurt, and I
know I’m leaving people behind, but it’s better this way.
I promise you will understand eventually, when everyone is
happy again, that I only ever dragged people down. Maybe it’s
selfish to want to die, but I really think it’ll be better for
everyone in the end.
Bakugou, Deku, and Ochako are gonna be great heroes,
probably top ten, and mom and dad won’t have a burden to
look after when they’re about to retire. My classmates are
gonna rock the hero rankings, I can see it already!
And I’ll be here, in the past.
That’s alright with me, dying so others can move forward. I
don’t mind.
If you see this, since I’m leaving it in this park, could you
maybe give it to my parents? I don’t want them to think they
did anything wrong, because they didn’t.

105
And, if you could, tell Bakugou to check his voicemail. It’s
been full for months, and there’s a really important one about
to come in.
Thank you,
A very grateful Eijirou Kirishima.
Smiling, Kirishima read it over again. Tapping his shoes
against the bench, he looked up at the monument, eyes
squinting under the sun just behind the figure. Crimson Riot
seemed so powerful, arms carrying a dozen civilians to safety;
the moment trapped in bronze forever.
He felt so incredibly small here, shadow casted over him from
the statue. Kirishima wondered if, had things gone differently,
he could’ve been there eventually. Would people have built
statues for him?
He doubted it.
“I’m really sorry sir,” he rasped, standing. He walked over to
the edge, placing the notebook right on the concrete ring
around the hero. Trying to wipe the tears away, he stepped
away, “I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough for your name.”
Leaving the notebook, filled with a hundred bad memories
and eighty-two good ones, right there in the middle of his
favorite park.
He wouldn’t be coming back to get it.

Opening the door to his house, Kirishima kicked off his shoes.
His mom appeared in the entrance, smiling in her tender way.

106
“Hi baby!” She said kindly, walking up to him for a hug. He
wrapped his arms around her, a grin wide on his face.
Laughing, she gasped, “What are you so excited for?”
“Nothing special,” Kirishima replied honestly, tucking his
head into the crook off her neck. Pulling him away, his mom
stared him dead in the eyes.
She had this look on her face, eyes proud and lips tugged
upwards. “What?” Kirishima asked, pulling on her shirt.
“It’s just… you look so happy,” she rasped, kissing his
forehead gently. Before she removed herself, she pat his face
in that motherly way.
Kirishima followed her into the kitchen, his dad sitting at the
table.
“Eijirou!” He said, surprised, “Why are you here?”
“Wow, dad,” Kirishima said, grabbing a soda from the fridge,
“not even a hello.”
His dad chuckled, standing up. Grabbing his son from behind,
he swung him around a couple times. Kirishima laughed
softly, trying to shove him off, “That’s not what I meant!”
“Now you’re picky!” His dad exclaimed, pushing his head
down some.
His mom, Aoi, slapped her wash cloth against her thigh,
“Boys! What did I say about wrestling the house!”
Isamu groaned, dragging his son backwards a little, “Come
on! Me and Eijirou are just having some fun!”
“Fun that’s going to bust my new fridge! I’m not paying for it
when you smash the ice dispenser,” she said, crossing her
arms.

107
“We got it mom,” Eijirou laughed, smacking his dad’s arm as
he let go. Stumbling, he fell into the stove, bending over to
look in the pot, “What are you making?”
“You father was making Udon, but it seems he’s forgotten
about it. Again,” Aoi said, grinning.
Isamu blew air, “Forgot? No! What? I never forget anything!”
He quickly stirred the soup.
Kirishima looked over to the bathroom as his parents bantered
lightly. The door was wide open, giving him the perfect view
of the cabinet above the sink.
“Hey, guys?” Kirishima said, stealing their attention. “I’m
going to use my bathroom, okay?”
Both of his parents paled, glancing at each other. His mom
stuttered out a reply as he turned to go, “How about you use
the downstairs bathroom instead?”
Mentally high-fiving himself, Kirishima feigned innocence,
“Yeah. I got it.”
He made his way to the bathroom faster than he probably
should’ve, shutting the door softly behind him. He flushed the
toilet after an appropriate amount of time. Then, he turned on
the sink and ripped open the cabinet.
Digging through the various medications, he found his bottle,
stuffing it into the backpack he was still wearing. Then, he
closed the doors and shut off the sink.
As he walked out, both of his parents sighed in relief.
He felt bad, tricking them like this. He hated how naive they
were, eyes shining with hope.
You could stay.

108
This is for the better. I know that now.
Look at them. You’re going to hurt them.
If hurting them means they’re free, then that’s alright.
“Are we having Udon for dinner?”

The next morning, Kirishima slipped on his shoes. He stepped

through the door, hand on the frame. However, with one foot
outside, he paused. Turning back around, he shot his mom,
who looked weary, a small smile.
“Bye mom. Bye dad,” he said, brows dipping.
She perked up some, waving to him softly as his dad
responded, “We’ll see you later kid!”
Kirishima shut the door without answering.

“Are you coming to karaoke tonight?” Deku asked, leaning

over the kitchen counter.
Bakugou swatted him away, focusing on his cooking. He was
planning to ask an important question later, excitement
bundled in nerves heavy in his lungs.
“Come on Kacchan!” Deku whined, tapping his fingers on the
desk, “You never do anything with us! Come out this one
night.”

109
Grunting, Bakugou said, “Fine! Fine! I’ll go. Stupid nerd.”
“You are being awfully mean today Kacchan,” Deku said,
straightening up. “Are you planning something?”
Sighing, he continued to move the meat around on the pan,
“Yes! I’m making dinner for… Kirishima and I’m trying to
focus so could you get off my back?”
“Okay,” Deku drew out, hands in the air.
Ochako walked into the room, hair up, “Hey Izuku!”
“O-Oh! Hey Ochako!” Deku sputtered, seeming to forget that
she was his girlfriend.
“Do I look alright?” She asked, slinging an arm over his
shoulder.
He nodded furiously, face red, “Yep! Yeah! Of course!”
Ochako giggled, looking over to Bakugou, “Hey! Have you
seen Kirishima? I know he stayed with his parents last night,
but I haven’t seen him at all today. Have you heard from
him?”
Worry settling into his bones, he shook his head.
Then, the doorknob clicked, and Kirishima stepped through
the frame. Ochako waved to him, “Kirishima! We were just
talking about you!”
“Oh,” Kirishima said, looking unusually happy, “All good
things I hope.”
Bakugou shuffled on his feet, rocking back and forth in fear.
He had asked Ochako for advice on how to ask Kirishima out,
but now that the moment was in front of him, he felt like
running away.

110
Sniffing the air, Kirishima smiled brightly at him, “Are you
making food?”
Bakugou faltered over his quick response, “What does it look
like I’m doing?”
Ochako and Deku exchanged a glance before she rested her
hand on his arm, yanking him up, “We need to get ready for
the karaoke bar!” She explained, pulling Deku towards the
door, “We’ll see you there!”
They both watched the couple, bewildered by the interaction.
Kirishima walked over to where Bakugou was standing, who
quickly went back to work on the food. Kirishima waited for
a moment, Bakugou’s back turned to him.
He wrapped his arms around Bakugou’s waist, hugging him
from behind. The blonde blew air, the tips of his ears red.
Kirishima wished he’d gotten more of these simple moments
of peace with Bakugou. He had hoped he’d die without any
remorse for the things he hadn’t done.
This, however, his failed relationship with the boy he loved,
he’d regret forever.
Bakugou felt his shoulders shake with Kirishima's head, a wet
spot forming on his shirt.
Concerned, he tried to turn, only for the hands on his waist to
tighten more. “Oi, Kiri? What the fuck?”
“Nothing,” Kirishima rasped, snuggling in closer as he
sniffled. “It’s not a big deal.”
Bakugou resigned himself to cooking, periodically looking
back at Kirishima, who refused to let go. He didn’t mind. It
was nice to have Kirishima near him.

111
“Are going to the karaoke bar tonight night?” Bakugou asked,
clicking his tongue to punctuate the sentence.
Kirishima shook his head, “I really want to catch up on some
sleep. You should go though!” He said quickly, “I want you to
go.”
“Okay..?” Bakugou said suspiciously, a little less focused on
dinner. The bubbling oil was the only sound for a moment.
“Hey, I was thinking tomorrow, after lunch, we should… get
food together,” Bakugou said, nerves rattling. “Just us this
time.”
Kirishima didn’t say anything, doubt crawling up Bakugou’s
fingers and biting his nails.
There was a movement, and then a chaste kiss pressed to his
reddened ear.
“Can’t,” Kirishima whispered, “I won’t be around tomorrow.”
Confused, Bakugou tried to figure out what such a statement
could mean. He lost all train of thought when a hand grabbed
his, thumb rubbing against it tenderly.
“I want to, really,” Kirishima assured, right next to his ear.
“but I can’t. Maybe,” there was an odd crack in his voice,
“maybe another time.”
Bakugou nodded, looking down at their intertwined hands.
He brought them up to his lips, kissing them softly. “You
promise?” He mumbled.
Kirishima didn’t answer, humming against his shoulder
instead.
Without a reply, Bakugou started to really worry, “Maybe I
should sta-.”

112
“No!” Kirishima said, stopping him. They stared at each a
moment.
He sighed, “I know your cutting time out of your day to hang
out with me, and only me, but I want you to spend time with
your other friends too. It… makes me feel bad when you
ignore them to be with me.” He squeezed his hand tighter,
“You should hang out with them for tonight. I’m going to
sleep anyway.”
Bakugou fiddled with their fingers, gloomier than before,
“Well then, can we hang out before I leave, since you won’t
be here tomorrow?”
Kirishima smiled lightly, wiping at his face, “Yeah, I’d like
that.”

Waving at the group as they left, Kirishima stood by the exit.

His face fell as soon as they were out of earshot, muscles
relaxing. He rubbed his sore jaw.
Walking towards the stairs, Kirishima grabbed his backpack
off the kitchen counter. Shaking it to hear the noise of white
against orange, he picked up his pace.
He took the steps two at a time.
Opening his bedroom door, he fished the bottle out, staring at
the label.
They’re going to miss you.
“They’ll get over it,” Kirishima said out-loud.
Aren’t you scared?

113
“Stopping because I’m scared would make me a coward.”
Your parents .
“It’s better this way,” he said, turning the cap.
What about your friends? Deku and Ochako?
“It’s better this way,” he repeated, finally getting it off.
Ito? You’re going to fail him!
“I was going to do that anyway.” Speaking of Ito, this nagging
little voice sounded an awful lot like his therapist.
Bakugou?
Kirishima stopped.
What if he’s the one that finds you? How do you think he’s
going to feel knowing he couldn’t save his best friend.
His hands shook violently, pills smashing together as he did
so.
“Stop it.”
He thought you were happy! You tricked him!
“That’s why I have to do this,” he whispered, not feeling his
hardened hand digging into his thigh, leaking blood.
You could stay! Stay here for him!
He shook his head, “I can’t give up now. I got all the way
here.”
Think about him!
He did, mind swirling over moments and pieces in time. After
awhile, he thought about Bakugou in the future, standing on
stage while accepting his award for Number #1 Hero. He was

114
smiling, big, bright, and very much un-Bakugou. There’s this
wicked look of pride on his face when he’s pulled away from
stage by a reporter.
“Congratulations Dynamight! However, I know tonight must
be hard for you. It’s the ten year anniversary of your
classmate’s, Eijirou Kirishima, death. How do you feel?”
Bakugou looked at her, confused, “Who?”
Are you crazy? It wouldn’t be like that at all!
Kirishima laughed to himself, “Probably not.”
He threw the pills back.
The little voice seemed to evaporate with the appearance of
that horrible taste in his mouth. Gagging, he stumbled over to
his bed. Before crawling in though, he changed his mind, the
coldness of the floor seeming particularly inviting.
Laying on the wood, he finally noticed the stinging in his leg.
Looking down, he saw the giant claws marks that scaled his
thigh. Then, he put his bloody hand up to the light.
“Oh.”
The crimson danced in his vision, which was still perfectly
clear. He smiled, the red throwing him back to his favorite set
of eyes.
Being struck by an idea, Kirishima grabbed for the phone in
his pocket, careful not to get blood on the screen as he held it
in his hands.
As he scrolled for his contact, the world finally started to
contort, just barely.
Putting the phone up to his ear, completely expecting the
ringing that followed, he listened.

115
He had made Deku promise he’d keep Bakugou off his phone.
“He worries too much,” he had said, “he deserves a break.”
It’s Bakugou. Leave your stupid voicemail.
Kirishima listened to the silence for a moment before sighing.
He wished so desperately he could hold him a final time.
“Out of all the reasons to stay,”
“You were my favorite.”
click

Reason #99 to Die: My list for dying is going to win, just like
I thought. Isn’t that reason enough

116
 CHAPTER IX

Was the light supposed to be this bright? He couldn’t keep his

eyes open.

The neon lights blinded Bakugou, putting his hand up to the

fluorescent bulbs. He tried to blink the white from his eyes,
still sat uncomfortably in the booth with his classmates. Sero
and Denki flipped through the pages of the songbook with
Tokoyami, trying to find him a dark enough tune.
Ochako and Tsuyu were tearing through snacks, and Deku
was singing very badly on the stage, Jirou, Shoji, and Iida
cheering him all.
Bakugou hadn’t moved since he got to the bar, thinking hard
over the last interaction he had with Kirishima. He had
seemed happy, but was it weird to say he was too happy?

117
Before Bakugou left, they’d eaten on the couch, Bakugou in
Kirishima’s lap as he played Breath of the Wild.
He knew that Kirishima was excitable, but he had made a
point to cheer Bakugou on no matter what he was doing. It
didn’t seem right, that once constant bound of energy
resurfacing in one night. Fiddling with his straw, he burned
holes into the tiles.
Kirishima had been talking funny too, making all these cryptic
statements and refusing to return promises. It made Bakugou
feel seasick, like the floor was shifting around him, moving
side-toside.
His phone buzzed on the other side of the table and he reached
for it, only for it to be pulled away. Ochako held it up, shaking
her head, “No phone. Kirishima’s orders.”
Sighing, Bakugou sunk back into the leather, scowling
harshly. Mina grabbed the phone from Ochako’s hand,
earning her a nasty glance. “Speaking of Kirishima,” she
sighed, holding the phone up, “he’s the one that called.”
Worrying his lip, Bakugou ripped it from her grasp, looking
at it.
1 Missed Call: Kirishima
Staring at the screen again, Bakugou watched as another
notification popped up.
1 Voicemail: Kirishima
Bakugou pushed out of the booth, waving off the group
protests.
“I have to piss,” he snarled, the words a thin excuse. No one
said anything.

118
He stalked off towards the door, pushing through it and into
the cold bathroom. Shutting and locking himself in the stall,
Bakugou sat on the toilet. He opened the phone app and went
to voicemails.
His box was almost full, stuffed to the brim with missed calls
from his mom and dad, along with a couple from Best Jeanist.
However, the newest and oldest voicemails were from the
same person.
The first voicemail had never pierced his ears, refusing to put
himself through the pain of the past so he could move
forward. Now, it seemed to be calling his name. It had been
sitting there since the third week of summer, a time that
Bakugou now realized lined up with Kirishima’s first attempt.
He was struck with cold terror.
He put the phone up to his ear, the play button pressed. His
knees were locked together, shaking under the tension.
Hey, Bakugou.
It’s… been a while since we spoke. Which sucks. I miss you,
like, a lot.
Haha… maybe that’s weird. I heard from the news you’re
working with Miruko this summer.
That’s really exciting! I’m proud of you.

…
I don’t think I’m coming back to UA. Uh, I just don’t think I’m
cut out for all of this… stuff if you know what I mean.
Do you want me to come back? Like, would you miss me if I
wasn’t there?

119
I just don’t really think you would care. I don’t think anyone
would care if I didn’t come back actually.
Why am I telling you this? It’s not your fault I’m so fucked up.
I don’t know; I guess I just wanted…
…
Tell me to stay, Katsuki. Tell me you’ll care if you never see me
again. Please? Even if you’re lying to me just-
I think I don’t actually want to… drop out. I just hate, fuck,
uh, school so much. It’s so lonely and tiring and I just want
it to be over.
Anyways, I-.
Just-
Call me back and tell me not to go, please.
*click*

Mina was slumped against Sero, who seemed completely

focused on Denki as he sang on the platform, the whole class
cheering. She was incredibly bored, feeling a disconnect from
the place around her.
Tired of the ambiance, she got up, making her way to the exit
without anyone’s protest. She entered the open, light rain
trickling against her face.
She sat on the curb, pulling the phone out of her pocket as she
covered it with her frame. Scrolling aimlessly for a minute,
she heard fast footsteps.

120
“Miss!” Someone called, causing Mina to turn around. A
woman stood there, a notebook in hand, “Is that your school
uniform? Are you a UA student?”
“Uh, yes ma’am,” Mina answered, getting up to walk towards
her.
The woman sighed in relief, holding the journal out, “UA is
written as the return address tag on the inside. There’s no
name though. It was left at the park; I think the owner lost it
there.”
Mina took the small book, flipping to the first page to get a
look at it.
Her eyes widened as she read the header, recognizing the
handwriting immediately, “I know whose book this is ma’am.
I-I’ll get this to him asap!”
The woman nodded, waving as she left. Mina, when she was
out of sight, tore through the book.
There were a dozen empty pages.
She caught sight of ink in the middle, reading carefully over
the lines.
Reason #1-100 to Die
What?
Reason #2
Reason #10
#25, #36, #68, #87, #95
She almost dropped the journal as she read the last line.
Reason #100

121
Taking a moment to process what she had seen, she gasped,
air stolen from her. She slammed the book shut, scrambling
for the entrance to the karaoke bar.

Pulling the phone away from his ear, Bakugou felt nauseous.
His legs were shaking as he leaned over, still on the toilet seat.
That voicemail had been there for so long, and he had just
ignored it.
No wonder Kirishima thought he didn’t care.
“Bakugou!” He heard Mina scream as the bathroom door was
thrown open so hard the metal slammed against the wall.
“What the fuck do you want?” Bakugou grit out, seething.
“Didn’t I tell you to stay the fuck away from me!”
“I think he’s gonna try again! Open the fucking stall!” She
yelled, acid burning through the lock.
Suddenly, they were face to face, Mina on her knees, “Look!”
She shoved a notebook in front of his eyes, and he squinted to
read it.
Reasons To Die: 1-100.
Reasons to Die? Why was Eijiirou looking for reasons to die?
Then, the realization caught up to him.
He ripped the book away in horror, flipping through the
pages in a panic. He scanned over the ink, searching
desperately for something he didn’t want to find.
He found it anyways.

122
Reason #100 to Die: Bakugou deserves better.
Breathing heavy, Bakugou stood, shoulders slamming into the
side of the stall. This was why he had been acting so weird,
wasn’t it? He was planning on killing himself.
I won’t be around tomorrow.
He felt boneless, eyes wide as he reread the reason a dozen
times. Suddenly, he was shaken by pink hands.
“I’ll go get Aizawa, but you need to get to the school right
now!” Mina said, looking just as terrified as him.
Nodding, he pushed his way out of the stall, running as fast as
he could to the entrance.
“Kacchan!” Deku yelled as he passed him. The kids stood up
in concern all muttering.
He ignored them, shoving open the door with a force that
shattered the glass.
He took off for UA.

Stumbling up the stairs, Bakugou climbed them as fast as he

could. He was panting, sweating tremendously as he finally
burst through the floor’s door.
He made a beeline for Kirishima’s door, trying the handle only
to be stopped by the lock.
“Fuck!” He yelled, kicking it harshly, “Open the door.
Kirishima! Open the fucking door!”

123
When he didn’t get an answer, he tried to blow off the lock.
His first attempt was unsuccessful, but his second, much
bigger explosion, blasted the door wide open.
Waving away the smoke, he tore into the room, searching
everywhere for a sign of life.
He spotted a body on the floor.
Falling to his knees, he crawled over to Kirishima, noticing the
very shallow breathing.
“No, no, no,” Bakugou repeated, pulling Kirishima into his
lap. “Fuck! Come on, you can’t do this to me!”
He slapped his face lightly, glossy eyes rolling around some to
find his gaze, “Kirishima! Goddamnit, wake up!”
He looked around furiously for Kirishima’s phone, since his
was now dead. His eyes trailing every inch of the space around
him. Bakugou noticed that his shirt felt increasingly wet, and
he looked down to see the spreading of crimson on the fabric.
Trying to think quickly, he yanked the comforter off the bed,
pressing it down onto the wounds, “Kirishima. Kiri. Eijirou!”
He pleaded, rocking them back and forth in a panic.
“I’m... sorry,” He muttered, voice weak, “m’ tired.”
“You can sleep when I get you to Recovery Girl, okay?”
Bakugou reassured, trying to calm him down by running his
violently shaking fingers through his hair. “Can you wait? I
need you to stay awake.”
Kirishima looked at him, staring softly, “Did I… turn off the
water?”
Bakugou pulled him closer, hugging him tightly, “The
water?”

124
“The faucet. Mom will get mad,” he coughed, breathing
ragged and hoarse. “I don’t want her to… yell at me.”
“She wouldn’t,” Bakugou said, still searching for his phone,
“Your mom won’t care as long as you - fuck! - stay awake to
tell her it was an accident.”
Kirishima shook his head, “I wanna sleep. Let me go to bed.”
“Not if you’re not going to fucking wake up!” Bakugou cried,
grabbing his face with bloody hands.
“Hey,” Kirishima said, looking sober for the first time since
Bakugou had found him, “why are you mad?”
Bakugou sobbed, fingers running through black hair again,
“You’re going to die. You’re going to die.”
Trying to return the comfort, Kirishima snuggled closer to his
chest, “You’ll be okay.”
“You don’t understand!” Bakugou wailed, bending down to
be closer to him.
He wanted to take in his heat while he still could.
“Please. I don’t want to be alone,” he whimpered, pulling
Kirishima up just a little. “Stay with me. Eijirou, please stay.”
Kirishima simply hummed, “I’m sorry for… not telling you.”
“For not telling me what?” Bakugou asked, glancing up to see
the reflection of the phone screen just barely under the bed.
Panicking, he tried to reach for it, only to feel a hand on his
wrist.
Bakugou couldn’t bring himself to look down at the arm.
“I love you,” Kirishima said, clear through the haze.
Looking at him, Bakugou whispered, “What?”

125
“I’ve loved you since,” he wheezed, arms falling, “since first
year at Kamino, but I didn’t want to get in the way. I know
you’re going to be a great hero and I would’ve held you back.”
Bakugou stared at him, eyes ablaze as he bent over. He finally
got his hands on the phone, fingers slipping a couple of times
from the wet blood, “Fuck you. Take it back right now!”
“What?” It was Kirishima’s turn to be confused.
“You don’t get to say that! Not right now! Tell me you love me
when I’m not covered in your fucking blood. Tell me later!”
He screamed, frantically trying to open his lock screen.
Kirishima smiled softly, “I don’t think there’s going to be a
later, Katsuki.”
“Stop it!”
“I just wanted you to-,”
“Shut up and let me save you!”
“It’s okay,” Kirishima said, rubbing his thumb against the
other’s chest.
Bakugou shook his head, searching for Aizawa’s number, “It’s
not okay! None of this is okay!”
Kirishima grimaced, body trembling, “I thought death was
supposed to be… peaceful. Why am I in so much pain?”
He sighed, hand seizing Bakugou’s wrist again to stop its
movement. He looked up through tearsoaked eyelashes, “Hey,
Katsuki? Will you kiss me?”
“Huh?” Bakugou uttered, finger over the call button.
“I know you don’t want to but I…” Kirishima’s calm
demeanor broke, “I don’t want to die without knowing what

126
it felt like to be yours. Even if it’s fake and only a moment. It’ll
be enough.”
Bakugou looked between him and the phone, unable to
control his breathing. His heart was pounding hard in his
chest, rib cage rattling.
This might be his only chance. He couldn’t leave all of this -
all of them - an unknown.
He pressed the call button, leaning down to smash their lips
together. Kirishima let out a small grunt, eyes widening at the
contact. The kiss was nasty, laced with the bitterness of pills
and copper, but Bakugou pressed on, eyes closed as tears fell
from them. He threaded his fingers through his hair, pulling
Kirishima’s head up for a better angle.
And then Kirishima’s lips weren’t moving anymore.
His hand fell to the ground with a soft thud as the call clicked
to life.
“Aizawa!” He screamed, hearing his echo through the phone,
“Mr. Aizawa, please! Get someone to send Recovery Girl up to
Kirishima’s dorm!”
There was a grunt on the other end of the call, “I can’t h-.”
“Recovery Girl! Kirishima’s room!” Bakugou huffed out,
lightly tapping his friend's face, “C’mon. Wake up!”
A noise of understanding carried over the waves, and the line
went dead. Dropping the phone, he turned his attention back
to Kirishima.
Bakugou desperately shook him, hands on his face as he
whispered, “Wake up. Eijirou, please get up.” Kirishima didn’t
move, his chest was completely still. Putting his ear up to

127
Kirishima's mouth, he realized there was no sound of
breathing. His skin was beginning to pale.
He racked his brain for what to do, all the lessons for his First
Aide class flying out the window as he looked at his cold body.
Sobbing, he wrapped Kirishima up as tight as he could,
muttering tiny words he didn’t know he was speaking.
“It was real,” Bakugou whispered, rocking Kirishima back
and forth in his arms as he waited. He pressed soft kisses to
his temple, tears falling onto unknowing skin, “It was real.”
After a moment of wailing into Kirishima’s chest, everything
flooded back to him. “Rescue breathing,” he muttered, pulling
away from Kirishima. He tried to move his hands, but they
seemed to be stuck.
Kirishima made a deep gurgling noise, and Bakugou sprung
into action. He went through everything a hundred times;
pinch nose, breathe air into his dead lungs, and repeat. His
arms and airways were screaming with fatigue.
It felt like he did it forever, no air left to give, when he was
pulled off by Aizawa. Thrashing, he tried to make his way
back to Kirishima. Reaching desperately, his red-hot hands
were pulled back.
His eyes were open, but he couldn’t see anything. “Is he
breathing? Aizawa please tell me he’s breathing!” He
screamed, still kicking against the hold. There were small pops
from under his fingers.
Aizawa was talking, but he couldn’t hear him, everything
muffled in his tired ears. Vaguely, he could see two people
standing over Kirishima, speaking something inaudible to
Bakugou as they gestured widely.

128
He gave up his fight, sinking back into his teacher’s hold as he
sobbed violently, screaming just to hear something.
Aizawa kept his grip tight, whispering to the trembling boy,
“You did what you could kid. This isn’t your fault.”
Exhausted, Bakugou stilled completely, almost blacking out in
his teacher's grasp as his eyes rolled backward. “Aizawa, tell
me he’s alive. Please. Please,” he kept repeating it like it was a
sick prayer.
Aizawa watched as they loaded Kirishima onto the stretcher,
the boy still completely limp. His skin was almost blue now,
veins visible.
He covered Bakugou’s eyes with his hand.
“We have a pulse but no breathing!” Aizawa caught, trying to
listen into the conversation. Bakugou’s cries were drowning
out most of the noise. There was some more yelling, and just
like that, they rushed him out of the room, missing the door
like experts.
The room seemed so empty without Kirishima’s body.
Then, Bakugou's cries stopped with a whisper, and his teacher
looked down to see him unconscious against his chest.
Stricken, Aizawa simply sat there, trembling softly as he held
his student close.

129
 CHAPTER X

Hey Eijirou,
I don’t know why I keep calling. I know you’re not going to
answer. Maybe it’s some sick twisted way to make myself
understand what this summer was like for you.

The hospital was far too cold. Something about it felt wrong,
that endless chill and weird smell. It felt like the place where
people die.
Well, that was obviously because they did, but Bakugou didn’t
want to think about that right now.
He was huddled against one of those awful fucking chairs,
with the color patterns that completely contrasted against the
white tile and walls. Aizawa had given him his jacket earlier,
but it didn’t seem to stop the trembling. His clothes were dry,
the blood had crusted against his stomach, but he couldn’t

130
take it off. Eijirou was on this fabric, and if he never saw him
again then…
This bloody shirt is all he would have left.
His eyes had been shut for an eternity, but he couldn’t sleep.
The moment kept replaying over and over again.
Open the door, find Kirishima, hold him, kiss him.
Watch him stop breathing.
Shaking his head furiously, he listened to the distant beeps and
chatter, wondering how the world could simply continue
along like his best friend wasn’t dying a couple of rooms away.
It felt like the only thing that should matter to anyone right
now.
He peered over to his right, finally opening his eyes, to where
Kirishima’s parents were speaking to a doctor. From the lack
of emotional screaming, Bakugou could gather that, at the
very least, Kirishima wasn’t dead.
The clasping of his father’s hand over his mouth as he looked
away, however, did not make Bakugou feel confident it would
remain that way.
Stuck in his little seat in the waiting room, Bakugou did just
that. He waited.
He strained his ears to hear whatever the doctor was saying,
but it was useless. It was unlikely that his parents would tell
him either.
His mother had looked so hateful when she had seen him. He
probably deserved it; his silence had contributed to
Kirishima’s downfall. Still, he wished he could convince them
that he was trying to make things better.

131
His phone buzzed in his pocket for the millionth time, fingers
trembling as finally reached for it. He had ignored it forever,
refusing to see whatever soft and shitty messages his friends
had left. When he looked now, he could see the dozens of calls
and the hundreds, yes hundreds , of texts the idiots had left
him.
Forgetting about all of that, he opened the phone app again;
the number had climbed to an amount he had forgotten.
Finding his target, he pulled the phone up to his ear.
“Out of all the reasons to stay, you were my favorite.”
Kirishima had been laying on the bedroom floor, dying, in this
message. Bakugou had been out with his friends despite the
awful feeling he had left with. He ignored it, ignored
Kirishima.
“Out of all the reasons to stay, you were my favorite.”
Why did he sound so fucking happy? He must have wanted to
die so badly for him to sound so euphoric while his lungs were
slowly shutting down.
“Out of all the reasons to stay, you were my favorite.”
He kept replaying it, scared he would lose what little pieces he
still had left if he didn’t.
“Out of all the reasons to stay, you were my favorite.”
“Out of all the reasons to stay, you were my favorite.”
“Out of all the reasons to stay, you were my favorite.”
There was a hand on his shoulder.
He didn’t look up. He should’ve, even if it was just to get a
peek at whoever was standing above him, but he didn’t have
the energy. Everything felt so heavy.

132
“Bakugou,” Isamu said, bending down to the boy’s eye line.
Bakugou’s eyes widened, falling forward a bit.
Isamu didn’t recognize this kid as his son’s best friend. That
boy had been so fiery, a proud livewire with something to
prove. He had laughed loudly and banged his fists on walls
and caught everyone’s attention.
He seemed so small now.
He shivered, leaning into the steadiness of Isamu’s hand as he
swayed. “I’m sorry,” he rasped, chest rattling as he breathed
in. “I’m so sorry.”
Isamu had to look away, afraid he would lose what little
composure he had left. Holding him up, he smiled. “Eijirou is
alive. Do you hear me? He’s alive.”
Bakugou nodded slowly, “I know.”
“He’s here because of you,” Isamu said, moving his hands to
cup the boy’s face. “Do you know that?”
Bakugou cocked his head, tired eyes scanning his face,
“What?”
Isamu choked, glancing down for a moment, “He- He would
be brain dead right now if you hadn’t tried to resuscitate him.”
He switched knees, the one planted on the tile becoming stiff,
“Eijrou would’ve been missing oxygen for too long, and… he
wouldn’t be here right now.”
He tried to push him away, “It wasn’t enough. I should’ve
noticed.”
“He came to our house too, Bakugou. I saw him and I thought
he was happy, just like you,” Isamu admitted, hands still on
the boy. “He tricked us too. I don’t think he wanted us to know

133
anything was wrong. You saved him Bakugou, even when he
didn’t want to be”
“I couldn’t let him die,” Bakugou muttered, and Isamu could
see the tears forming, “not before I-.” He sobbed, “I didn’t get
to tell him. I didn’t get to tell him.”
He cried, falling into strong arms that reminded him far too
much of his best friend. Isamu gripped him tight, pulling him
onto the floor with him. He held Bakugou like he was his own
son, far too afraid it might be the last time he ever did
something like this.
Aoi watched from the side, black book in hand.

Midoriya and Ochako sat on the couch, the place far too quiet.
Nobody had really said anything since they had found out
what happened. Although Aizawa had made up excuses for
what had taken place, Deku and Ochako knew.
“What if he dies?” Ochako whispered, staring at him.
He closed his eyes, “He won’t.”
“Izuku,” Ochako tried, grabbing his wrist, “you know that
might not be true.”
He slumped back into the couch, scared hands on his brow, “I
don’t know.”
Ochako looked away, fingers fiddling with the toothpick, the
shark’s eyes staring back at her. She wished she could tuck it
in raven hair again.

134
Midoriya sighed, trying his best to stay strong. That endless
lump in his throat just kept getting bigger.
“What if he doesn’t wake up?” He muttered, feeling wet tears
track his cheeks. “What if yesterday was the last time we ever
see him?” Waving his hands around furiously, he pulled away
from her, “I was supposed to know! I knew what it was like
and I didn’t notice! I pulled all the same fucking tricks and I
failed to realize what he was doing.”
Ochako reached out to him, trying to comfort him the best she
could. “Izuku, no. That was the whole point, for people not to
notice.”
“But I knew!” He yelled, scrambling to the other side of the
couch. “I know all about being suicidal and I didn’t notice!”
Ochako gripped him tight, pulling him into her chest, “It
wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it-.”
“It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know,” She coaxed.
“But I sho-.”
She cut him off by shoving her phone in his face. On it was a
picture of the four of them,
Kirishima, Bakugou, Midoriya, and her. She was holding up
the phone for a selfie, eyes wide as
Bakugou pointed a thumb behind them, looking rather
amused. There, right under his finger, Kirishima and
Midoriya were watching the trailer for that new hero-based
fighting game. They both looked far too excited, hands on
each other as they watched in awe.
He had just been excited to buy another game with All Might
in it, but Kirishima had been waiting for one that included

135
Crimson Riot forever. They had been fanboying hard, pulling
on each other and yelling every time their favorite heroes had
crossed the screen.
“You made him happy,” Ochako insisted, running a hand
through his hair. “We are his friends, and that has to count
for something.”
Taking the phone from her, Midoriya scrolled through the
album, all the pictures were moments with Kirishima in them.
Getting boba, game nights, and both of them crying during
movies.
He sobbed, burying himself in Ochako’s lap as he cried.
She let the tears fall silently.

After hours of arguing with Aoi, Isamu finally convinced her

to let Bakugou into Kirishima’s room. The blonde had been
reluctant at first, afraid he was stepping on the pair’s feet.
Isamu could tell how important it was to the boy and insisted
he visit, even if it was only for a bit.
So there he was, leaning over the railing as he ran fingers
through black hair. He stared at
Kirishima’s far too pale face, “Did they say… anything about
when he’ll wake up.”
Aoi, patience thin, clenched her fist, “The bigger concern is if
he’ll wake up.”
Pausing his actions, Bakugou looked over, “What?”
“Aoi,” Isamu tried.

136
“He’s brain is swollen and his body is weak. They’re trying to
get the swelling to go down with medicine, but it doesn’t seem
to be working,” Aoi said, anger harsh in her voice.
“And if it doesn’t work?” Bakugou asked quietly, eyes on
Kirishima.
“Normally, they would put him in a coma, but it seems the
overdose did that anyway,” she said, sucking in a breath.
“Your efforts lessened the effects of the lack of oxygen, but it
still did a number on him.”
Isamu tried to reach for his wife, but she pulled away. “If
anything more happens, the brain swelling gets worse, he gets
an infection, or his body is put under any kind of stress, he’ll
probably die.”
Bakugou opened his mouth to say something but was cut off.
“He could go into cardiac arrest and die! He could have a
stroke and die! He could breathe wrong and die! Who fucking
knows,” Aoi yelled, stepping closer to him.
There was a skip in the beeping of the machine beside them,
and everyone turned to it to make sure it was a fluke.
“I can’t do this,” Aoi said, walking to the door. She pushed
through it, followed by Isamu’s signs.
Bakugou stayed silent, bringing his focus back to Kirishima.
“She hates me,” he whispered, causing Isamu to look at him.
“That’s not true kid,” he assured, patting his shoulder lightly.
Bakugou sniffled, “She should. I’m the reason he’s in here,
aren’t I?”
He stared at Kirishima’s dad, movements lifeless, “I was trying
to make things better, but it didn’t work. I’m a failure. I failed

137
your son.” Bakugou wiped at his face, “Why wouldn’t you
hate me?”
“Well, actually,” Isamu said, looking at the book in his hands,
“you were seven of the reasons he’s in here, though three of
them you couldn’t have prevented.”
He held the journal out, flipped to the first page, to Bakugou,
who took it hesitantly, “but, you’re also sixty-four of the
reasons he wanted to stay.”
Scanning the paper, he realized there was a list he hadn’t seen.
He read through some of the reasons.
Reason #2 to Live: I found all those pictures I took for the
corkboard. I was looking them over to see all the good
memories from the years before. I thought it would hurt but
it felt more bittersweet than anything. I wish Bakugou could
see the face he was making in some of these.
Maybe one day.
Reason #12 to Live: Bakugou wants to be friends again.
Maybe it’s pity. Actually, it probably is pity. Either way, maybe
this will mean he’ll want to hang out sometime! I really miss
him.
Reason #16 to Live: Bakugou drew a frowny face on my hand
today while we were studying.
He smiled.
Reason #21 to Live: His hair kinda looks like a dandelion! I
can’t believe I didn’t see it before.
Reason #35 to Live: Bakugou made me lunch again today, and
I really didn’t even mind eating it.

138
Reason #44 to Live: Bakugou complimented my new hair. He
said he missed the red but liked how the black looks with my
eyes.
Reason #59 to Live: I thought Bakugou would make fun of me
for liking romance movies, but it turns out he does too! I have
no idea how he kept this from me for so long.
Reason #74 to Live: Bakugou’s hair is just as soft against my
lips as I thought it would be.
Reason #79 to Live: His ears turn red when he blushes.
Reason #82 to Live: Bakugou fell asleep on me last night. We
cuddled on the couch and everything. When we woke up, he
had me CARRY HIM back to his room, and we slept there.
Even though there are already 100 reasons to die, I needed to
write this down. Just so it felt more real.
Tears dripping to the floor, Bakugou looked back at Kirishima.
He tried his best to catch his breath as leaned down to kiss his
cheek, straining against the railing. Sobbing against
Kirishima’s skin, his knees felt like they were going to give.
“Out of all the reasons to stay, you were my favorite,” he
whispered, stroking his face gently.
Isamu suddenly felt like an intruder in his own son’s room. He
rubbed Bakugou’s back, “I’ll give you some time alone, okay?”
He nodded, still glued to Kirishima’s side. Isamu walked out,
taking a final glance back.
Bakugou looked over his shoulder out into the hall that reeked
of alcohol and death, searching for anyone important. When
he saw no one, he caved, pushing down the side railing of the
bed and crawling on. He kicked his shoes off as he sat down

139
on the bed, lured in by Kirishima’s steady breathing helped by
the machine.
He scanned his face as he turned around, eyes catching on the
tube down his throat. His lips were parted open to allow
access, and he wished harder than anything he could kiss
them until they started to speak.
Trailing his finger over Kirishima’s cheek, he began to sob,
ugly and loud. He threw himself down onto Kirishima’s chest,
burying his face into the gown as he desperately gripped at
his sleeve, arm cast over his body.
Kirishima didn’t awake, not even as the bed shook from
Bakugou cries. He pressed soft kisses onto Kirishima’s jaw as
he sobbed, trying to catch his breath.
“Please. Please wake up. Don’t leave me here,” He wailed,
hiding in the crook of Kirishima’s neck.
There was silence.
“I love you.”

“Why are you being nice to him?” Aoi growled, up in her

husband’s space.
Isamu sighed, tilting his head, “because that’s what Kirishima
would want.”
She took a step back, thrown off guard, “What?”
“He loves that kid, Aoi,” He reasoned, looking at the ground,
“He adores him. Eijirou would want us to forgive him.”

140
Pointing back to the room, they could see the pair, “and he’s
trying! He’s trying to be better.” Isamu leaned against the wall,
sliding down it. The tears he had been holding back finally
appeared, “If Bakugou failed Kirishima, then so did we. He got
the pills from our house, and they were from my surgery.”
“That’s not the same!’ Aoi said, squatting down with him,
“Bakugou was the reason the first one happened!”
“No!” Isamu yelled, “You’re mad, and I get it, I’m mad too, but
you can’t just blame everything on one kid! His friend’s fucked
him up, that school fucked him up, us not understanding
when he tried to tell us fucked him up. This isn’t just a
problem you can pinpoint to one thing!”
Aoi stilled, breathing heavy, “Then what am I supposed to
do?”
“I don’t know,” Isamu admitted, resting his head in his hands,
“but tearing apart the people Eijirou cares about isn’t the
answer.”
They sat together, quiet in each other's company, their boy
dying just a room away.

Aoi opened the door, glancing over to her son, tubes running
from every available piece of him.
Then, she spotted Bakugou, curled up against Kirishima,
asleep but shivering.
She approached them softly, careful to keep quiet. She wanted
to hate this kid so badly for everything he had done. For this
summer, for the long nights of comfort she’d given Kirishima

141
at the beginning of their friendship, and for being the
hundredth reason. Looking at him now, however, she couldn’t
bring himself to do it.
If Eijirou could love him, then she would try to as well. Pulling
a blanket out of her overnight bag, she rested over the two,
Bakugou huddling in closer at the warmth.
She kissed her son’s forehead. When she pulled away, she
noticed Kirishima’s hands. They were wrapped in Bakugou’s.
Sighing, she tried her best to let go of the anger.
She pressed a quick kiss to Bakugou’s temple too, tucking the
blanket in tighter.

It sucks. I don’t know how much longer I can listen to those

fucking rings.
I’m sorry. Eijirou, I’m so sorry. No one talks anymore.
It’s only been two days and yet no one seems to be able to say
anything. It’s way too quiet without you.
If you...
When you wake up, I hope you’ll listen to these until you get
tired of my voice.
I’ll try to keep you updated on what’s going on around here. I
know you hate it when you fall behind.
...
I love you...
Bye.

142
 CHAPTER XI

I can’t do this anymore.

They keep putting flowers outside your room and they keep
fucking dying because you’re not there to put them in water
so there are petals all over the hallway and...
I can’t do this forever. I can’t. You can’t die because if you do
I...
I think I might too.
I love you.
I’m so sorry you didn’t get to hear me say it but if you just
come back you can. I’ll tell you a thousand times. I mean it.
Every time you want me to, even when you don’t, I’ll say it.
I love you, Eijirou Kirishima.
I love you
I...
Fuck
143
Kirishima’s balcony doors did not lock. Bakugou had learned
this in a moment of desperation, the need to be next to
Kirishima outweighing everything else. He had broken in
during the early hours of the morning, deciding to sleep in his
bed.
The place still smelled of pre-workout and barbells, some sage
wood mixed in there. Normally, Bakugou would make fun of
him for having a room that reeked like a gym, but now he was
under his covers, wrapped in Kirishima’s favorite hoodie.
It had been a month since Kirishima’s attempt.
Bakugou had decided people who say grief gets better with
time were fucking liars. It didn’t help that Kirishima wasn’t
dead, just completely comatose.
The doctors kept saying that once the swelling went down
they could heal him. That his brain was too fragile.
But the swelling wasn’t going down, not even a little.
In all these weeks, he had also decided something else. That
hope did not exist. That jump in his throat when Isamu called
him, the black pit it fell into, that wasn’t the hope that Eijirou
was awake.
It was the fear that he was dead.
He hadn’t slept in so long.
The entire class had been given a two-week break following
Kirishima’s overdose. Thankfully, Aizawa had given him an
extension on that time, allowing him to do most of his work
online.

144
He didn’t think he could face the class right now.
Trying his best to break the streak, he closed his eyes, cuddling
into the pillow as exhaustion hit him in a wave.

Bakugou was awoken by a soft hand on his cheek, pulling him

from slumber. Opening his dreary eyes, he was met with red.
“Damn man!” Kirishima said, smiling wide at him, “You were
really sleeping!”
Sitting straight up, Bakugou almost fell off the bed as he
scrambled away.
“Geez dude, what’s with the rush?” Kirishima questioned,
leaning forward.
“Your,” Bakugou faltered, taking in the sight before him,
“your hair.”
It was fire red, spiked up even though Kirishima was in his
classic bedtime t-shirt and boxers duo.
"It's red," He breathed, eyes blinking wildly.
“Oh!” He said, touching it softly, “Yeah, it is!”
Bakugou scanned his surroundings, realizing he was in
Kirishima’s room. Everything looked fuzzy though, his posters
unreadable and walls all white.
Kirishima set a hand on his shoulder, turning him back
around, “I’m not the real Kirishima, so I got to keep the sick
hair.”

145
“What?” Bakugou questioned, shaking his head, “I don’t
understand.”
“They say the dreams you have when you’re sleep-deprived
are crazy!” Kirishima replied, winking at him.
Bakugou stilled, touching Kirishima’s face tenderly, “This is a
dream?”
“Yeah man,” Kirishima responded, leaning into the fingers.
Sucking in a breath, Bakugou crawled over him, shoving
Kirishima down onto the mattress as he clenched his teeth,
“So, you’re not real?”
“Nope!” Kirishima popped, allowing his hands to be pinned
down on the bed. He smiled, so raw and real that it shot
Bakugou through the chest.
He dropped his head some, tears becoming watery. “Will you
pretend to be?”
Kirishima’s grin dropped some, the sadness leaking in, “If you
want me to.”
Bakugou bent down, mouth close to his as he savored the
feeling of being able to touch him. It was the first time in so
long he felt Kirishima’s rough skin. “I love you,” he
whispered, trailing the length of his arms.
“I know,” Kirishima responded, grabbing his face with his
now free hand, the other resting on the crook of his neck. “I’ve
always known.”
Bakugou kissed him gently, breaking when it tasted like that
strawberry protein powder Kirishima always put in his
drinks; his lips were absent of the bitterness of blood and pills.
Kirishima’s strong arms surrounded him, pulling them both
up to a sitting position.

146
He felt small here, protected. His lips connected with
Kirishima’s in the middle of that cloudy room a dozen times,
secured down by the feeling of euphoria.
“Are you going to come back?” he asked, trapped between
swollen lips.
Kirishima stroked his cheek gently, “You know I don’t know
the answer.”
“Then lie,” Bakugou rasped, hugging him softly, wondering if
it would be the last time. “Lie to me. Tell me you know.
Please.”
Kirishima’s hand stopped, connecting with Bakugou’s skin as
he sighed.
“Yeah, I am.”
Bakugou crumbled, collapsing into the arms that had held
him so many times before. His world was disintegrating, he
could tell by the fading light.
“I have to go,” Kirishima said, pulling him away.
“Don’t,” Bakugou whimpered, holding onto him desperately,
“This is all I have left.”
Kirishima shook his head, “You can’t stay here forever,
Katsuki.”
Defeated by his given name, he grasped onto his shirt, “You
can’t go.”
Kirishima brushed his hair away, kissing him sweetly one last
time, “I’m sure I’ll come back to you.”
“And if you don’t?” Bakugou asked, trembling.

147
Kirishima kissed his forehead, the last of the light fading,
“Then you can always come back here to me.”

Sunlight snuck in through the windows, giving Bakugou only

a moment of warmth before it was covered up again.
“Katsuki!” Deku yelled right into his ear as he shook him
violently.
Scrambling under the shock, Bakugou set a blast into his face,
rocking the whole bedroom. He shot out of bed, hand
searching for the target.
Deku grabbed his arm, tackling him back onto the mattress.
They wrestled like that for a bit, Bakugou shouting obscenities
as he tried to push his friend away.
“Are you fucking stupid?!” Deku screamed, pounding on his
chest.
Bakugou was still shoving at his arms, “What the fuck are you
talking about!”
“You left your balcony’s door open!” Deku panted, finally
pinning him down, “You… it was wide open and I thought-
.”
Tears hit Bakugou’s face, making him flinch. Deku knocked
his head against his chest, “I thought you jumped.”
Stunned into silence, Bakugou set his hands against Deku’s
back, holding his breath. He knew Kirishima’s attempt had
affected him deeply, but he didn’t think it was this bad.

148
He was being selfish again, wasn’t he?
Hugging Deku back, he let him cry, holding him as sobs
rocked his body. Bakugou clung to him like a lifeline, unable
to say anything. They took in that familiarity of each other,
the shared grief sticking to them.
Deku pulled away first, wiping at his face, “Sorry. I
overreacted, I didn’t mean to-.”
“It’s fine, idiot,” Bakugou sniffled, sighing. “I’m trying to fight
through this and it’s not working. I get why you were...
concerned or whatever.”
“Right,” Deku said, leaning on his heels, “It’s just that we
never see you and I want to know if you’re safe. When I went
to check everything was a mess and you were gone and I
just… panicked.”
“I said it’s fine,” Bakugou insisted, lightly shoving him off.
Deku fell off to the side, bouncing on the mattress.
They both laid there, side-by-side, as they stared at the ceiling.
“Has he always had those plastic stars up?” Deku asked.
Bakugou felt the block in his throat, “No, we put them up
weeks ago because he-.” He couldn’t breathe, “he was scared
of the dark.”
Covering his face with his hands, Bakugou turned away from
Deku, shaking lightly. “He said he made him feel like he was
in the,” tripping over his words, a kind hand stroked his
shoulder, “bathtub again.”
His gasp was broken up in parts as he turned back over, “I
can’t do this. I can’t use my hands to fix this so I don’t know
what to do. It hurts so much all the time.”

149
“I think,” Deku said, patting him lightly, “I think there isn’t
anything you can do other than be there. These things don’t
just fix themselves.”
Bakugou groaned, “I don’t like that answer.”
“Kirishima probably doesn’t either,” Deku answered.
You’re being selfish Bakugou. This isn’t about you.
“Right,” he said.
Deku got off the bed, dusting himself off, “I would get up and
around if I were you. I think I overheard Aizawa say that Aoi
had news for you.” He rubbed his neck nervously, “That was
my excuse to check on you.”
Perking up some, Bakugou nodded. Deku sighed, making his
way out to the balcony to hop to the other side.
Bakugou stared up at the stars.

Mina scuffed her feet against the tile, sat under the stairs in
that little nook. She read the text on her screen.
“Mina,” Bakugou said, standing over her, casting a shadow.
She glanced up half-heartedly, “Bakugou.”
He leaned over to get a better look at the phone, “What are
you looking at?”
“I took photos of the journal,” Mina replied, turning it to him.

150
“Oi! What the fuck? Why do you have those?” Bakugou
questioned, becoming increasingly angry at the idea of
Kirishima’s privacy being breached.
“I’m trying to find my name,” Mina said, a weird tinge to her
voice.
He paused, “What?”
“I’m not on this fucking list!” She yelled, standing up quickly.
“I treated him like shit and I’m not a single one of these
reasons!”
He cocked his head, “Why are you upset about that?”
“Because that means he thought I was right! He thought what
I was doing was okay!” She said, turning her phone off and
tossing it in her bag. “I wasn’t. I did shitty things to him
because I was angry over one fucked up text. When I realized
what I’d done, I couldn’t even give him a proper apology!”
This sounds familiar .
“But I left him alone,” Mina said, sinking back into the nook.
“I noticed things were getting bad and I backed off.” She hung
her head low, burying her face into her knees, “It doesn’t
matter. He still did it.”
Bakugou looked away, grinding his teeth. “How the fuck did
you notice when no one else did, huh? That doesn’t make
much sense.”
“I was there,” she said, staring at him. “I saw what he was like
in middle school. We might not have been friends, but I knew
him back then, and I know him now.”
She studied his face, “And I can see the similarities.”
“Why fuck with him when you knew he was down?”
Bakugou asked, gripping the wall.

151
She thought about it for a moment, face scrunched up “It
didn’t seem so bad in the beginning and…” she clenched her
fist, “I felt powerful.”
“He made me feel weak for so long with the stupid butterflies
and fast heart rate and all the other shit that comes with a
crush,” she said. “And then he didn’t want me. I felt so weak
and useless. So I decided he wasn’t going to be above me
anymore.”
“I went too far,” she finished, kicking the ledge, “I know that,
okay? I feel bad. ”
“That’s not enough,” Bakugou growled.
“I know! I get it! You can’t make me feel worse than I already
do! He’s in the hospital because of me and I get that,” she
said, closing her eyes.
“Then why are you upset?”
“Why didn’t he write it down?!” She screamed, throwing her
hands about, “I made everything so shitty for him! I did
everything I could to beat him down, and yet it’s not in there!
It doesn’t make sense!”
Bakugou straightened up, trying his best to screw his head
back on.
“I’m mad because I’m looking for reasons to blame myself,
and I can’t find any,” she said finally, grabbing her phone. She
started to scroll again, “I know I’m in the wrong, but…
apparently Kirishima didn’t believe that, and I can’t figure out
why.”
Knocking his hands together, Bakugou sighed, “Probably
because he already forgave you. Maybe he thought you were
right. I don’t know either.”

152
“Very helpful,” she muttered, dragging her finger on the
screen again.
Bakugou watched her obsessively read back and forth,
deciding to stand in her presence for a moment.
He didn’t know what he would do if Kirishima didn’t come
back to explain these hanging threads.

Aoi paced back and forth, watching her husband sleep on the
very uncomfortable chair in the corner. His face was pale,
very similar to his son’s, and his lips were chapped; his
nervous tick of licking them had resurfaced.
The monitor started to pick up the pace, waking Isamu from
his nap immediately.
It went off frantically, his heartbeat rattling off the charts as
he began to shake violently, chest rising off the bed. Every
muscle seemed to tighten, his eyes opening for the first time
in weeks only to be completely white.
Aoi went to reach out to him, only to be blocked off by the
nurse. “You should wait outside,” she coaxed, far too nice for
the situation at hand.
“No, I’m going to stay,” she insisted, only to be pulled back by
Isamu’s hands. “Get off!”
“We need to leave,” he said, using a little force as he could to
yank her away.
Aoi thrashed against him, watching as Eijirou collapsed,
choking violently even in his state. The heart monitor was still
running full speed.

153
“Stop, Isamu, let go!” She screamed, trying to shove him away.
The door shut in her face.

“Bakugou,” Aizawa said grimly, phone in hand. “Mrs.

Kirishima wishes to speak to you.”
Looking around the lunch table he had just rejoined today,
Bakugou got up, walking over to where his teacher was
standing. He took the phone, putting it up to his ear.
“Hello?” He asked, turning away from the group.
“Bakugou,” she breathed, the post-crying break obvious in
her voice. “I have… something to tell you.”
Nervousness filling him, he shifted on his feet, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Listen, Eijirou’s brain swelling is dying down, which means
he could wake up soon,” she said, causing Bakugou to perk
up.
“R-Really?” He whispered, his lips tugging slightly upwards.
She coughed, “Yes, but… the pressure was there for so long
that its absence is causing issues and,” her sniffle was audible,
“tonight might not go so well for him.”
Bakugou froze, stiff as ice, cold as it too, “What do you mean?”
“The chances that… he, fuck-,” she paused, sucking in a
breath, “that he makes it through the night are really slim.”
His legs gave out, and he hit the floor in a single moment,
fingers shaking. Aizawa set his hand on his shoulder, patting

154
him softly. Once he regained his ability to breathe, he spoke
again, “But, you just said he was getting better.”
He could hear his classmates muttering behind him, some
sounding extremely concerned.
Bakugou blocked them out.
“He is, but his body isn’t catching up with his brain,” she said,
and Bakugou realized he could hear Isamu crying in the
background. “He’s having seizures, and they’re messing with
his heart, which is still really weak.”
“Bakugou, you might want to come to the hospital.”
Still frozen, Bakugou leaned over, feeling like he was going to
puke, “Are you saying I should… say goodbye?” He choked,
his words earning a myriad of gasps from the class.
“Just in case,” Aoi supplied, sounding very unsure.
Bakugou looked around him, reaching out an arm for
Ochako, his closest comfort. She came to him quickly,
followed closely by Deku. She rested her head against his
back, crying softly as Deku tried to reassure them both.
“Can I bring a couple of... friends? They don’t have to go into
the room. I just don't think I can do this alone.” Bakugou
rasped, trying to steady himself.
“Of course, dear,” Aoi said, much sweeter than before.
“Okay… I’ll be there soon,” he said, breathing hard,
“Goodbye, Mrs. Kirishima.”
“Goodbye, Bakugou,” she replied, and the call clicked off.
Bakugou shattered into pieces on the lunchroom floor.

155
Hey Eijirou,
I think I just realized why I keep calling
It’s because it’s the only time I hear your voice anymore.
My name is Eijirou Kirishima! If it’s important, call back in a
couple of minutes. If it’s not, you can always shoot me a text!
Voicemails are cool too! Anything that works for you. See ya!
Was my impression good?
...
I’m afraid I’m going to forget what it sounds like if...
Please wake up

156
 CHAPTER XII

This might be the last night I ever see you.

I don’t want to think about the fact that there’s a chance
you’re never going to hear this.
I’m making a compromise. I’m going to tell you things about
me that no one knows. Little things that I wish you knew, that
I wish I got to tell you.
If you wake up, then you’ll get to hear these things, and you
can make fun of me as much as you want. I promise I won’t
get mad.
And if you don’t then… then they’ll stay here, trapped in your
phone forever.
…
I know how to sing. When I took drum lessons my mom made
me take vocal lessons as well. I still sing in the shower, only
when I’m alone. Being good at singing feels embarrassing and
I don’t know why.

157
I had a cat named Tohru in grade school because Fruits Basket
is my favorite manga, and I cried for weeks when she died. I
haven’t had another cat since.
Your hair isn’t shitty, but it was the first thing I noticed about
you so I latched onto it. I’m sorry if I was ever the reason you
felt like you were ugly. I…
I think you're one of the most beautiful people alive.
…
I’ll see you in the morning. I have to believe that.
I’ll call you beautiful then.

Bakugou gripped Kirishima’s hand tight, head laid against the

mattress. Aoi and Isamu were standing off to the side, both
unable to get any sleep. The possibility that they might wake
up without a son was too much to bear.
There had only been silence for hours, the quiet charged with
unescapable nervousness. Something about the room felt
incredibly lifeless, from the white walls to Kirishima’s
unmoving body. All of these things combined made death feel
like it was lurking around the corner.
Bakugou had been holding onto unmoving fingers for hours
now, waiting for them to twitch even a little.
Aoi watched as his whole arm trembled from exhaustion, the
position of it against the bed must’ve been extremely
uncomfortable. There was a pang somewhere under her ribs.

158
“You know,” she started, looking at Bakugou, “the doctor said
it was good to talk to him. I don’t know if he meant good for
us or good for Eijirou, but it might help.”
Bakugou nodded slowly, eyes half-closed as he scooted
forward some. He laid his head down as close to Kirishima as
he could get. He didn’t want to talk, it felt wrong; it felt like
he was an intruder in this closed-off room.
Anything had to be better than this.
“Do you remember the night we hung up stars in your room?”
Bakugou asked, finger doing a small walking motion up
Kirishima’s arm. He’d picked up the habit from Eijirou
himself; he did it frequently during study sessions. “You had
to stand on that really unsteady chair you use at your desk,
and I told you it wouldn’t work, but you didn’t listen.”
He smiled some, “So when you stood on it, the back gave out
and folded on you. You hit the ground so hard I thought you
were concussed.” Chuckling lightly, his fingers touched black
hair, “And when you broke the chair, all the stars fell with
you. They landed right on your face. You were just sitting
there on the ground laughing, and when I went to check on
you…”
He brushed those pretty bangs back behind Kirishima’s ear,
“The stars were tangled in your hair. You were smiling, and
you looked like a galaxy.”
Bakugou sniffled, attempting to blink away stray tears; he had
cried too much in the last few weeks, “and I realized you were
the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”
“I didn’t know what to say,” Bakugou admitted, still stroking
his hair. “I turned the lights off so I could see them glow, and
it was perfect,” shaking hands touched cold skin, “you are
perfect, even in the dark.”

159
Bakugou tangled their fingers together, bringing them up to
kiss them lightly, “It was the first time you had laughed in so
long. I… I realized I didn’t remember what it sounded like
when you were really happy.”
“When you get out of here,” he said, ignoring the sinking
feeling in his gut, “let’s put them up in my room too, yeah?
We’ll stick them to every inch of the ceiling, whatever it takes
to see you laugh like that again. And… I’ll kiss you like I
should’ve.”
Startled by the sound of sniffling, Bakugou turned to see Aoi
and Isamu staring at him, eyes watery. Retracting into himself,
he looked away. He held Kirishima’s fingers tighter, jumping
when hands fell on his shoulders.
Aoi leaned down next to him, wiping his tears away gently.
He worried about his lip, trembling.
“I’m sorry,” she said, causing Bakugou to flinch.
Isamu kneeled on the other side of him, putting a hand on his
shaking knee, “Bakugou.”
He kept his eyes on the ground.
“I’m glad someone like you cares about my boy,” Isamu said,
voice filled with hollowness. “I can tell you love him very
much.”
Bakugou shook his head, “but he doesn’t know that.”
“He knows,” Isamu said, Bakugou sucking in a harsh breath,
“He’s always known.”
He closed his eyes, wishing to taste strawberry protein
powder.
His chest cracked, ribs shifting from the weight of the black
hole of grief inside of him, and he fell into Aoi’s body,

160
clutching Isamu’s hand as he desperately searched for
comfort in their presence.

Tokoyami looked at the door in front of him, the drying wax

filling the sigil perfectly. The petals strew around the floor
gave off an interesting odor, but he didn’t mind.
“Tokoyami?” Aizawa’s voice came from the other side of the
hall.
“Hello, Mr. Aizawa,” he answered, staying steady as he used
his brush to paint on the remaining wax.
Aizawa tapped his foot, “What are you doing to Kirishima’s
door?”
“I’m putting up an old religious sigil of luck. My grandmother
taught me about it when I was young,” he answered,
completely unphased by the absurdity of the statement.
Aizawa walked closer, cocking his head to get a better look,
“What kind of sigil?”
“It’s one for luck. It is supposed to help expedite one’s wish,”
he said, pulling his brush back.
“Not to dampen the mood,” Aizawa said, putting a hand on
his student’s shoulder, “but maybe this isn’t the time to
encourage Kirishima’s wishes.”
Tokoyami sighed, looking at him, “I don’t think that’s true.”
“Why?” Aizawa asked, still seeking to understand his student.

161
“I don’t think he wants to die,” he said, stepping back to get a
good view, “I think he wants to be happy. He wanted to feel
good about himself, but he couldn’t. To him, if he couldn’t be
happy, what was the point of living?”
Aizawa stared at him, watching as Tokoyami took a keychain
out of his pocket and set it in front of the door, “He didn’t want
to die, he just didn’t want to be sad anymore. That was the
only way he thought he could make the darkness end.”
“I think he wants to be better, wishes he could be,” Tokoyami
said, brushing his hands off, “and I hope that wish is fulfilled.”
Aizawa watched him walk away, head held high.
He looked at the keychain.

Swinging his legs back and forth, Deku watched as Bakugou

stumbled out of the room, hand over his mouth. He sunk to
the floor as he made it just outside the hallway, nurses
replacing him as they rushed into the room.
Getting up to scramble to the trash can, Bakugou threw up.
Ochako shot out of her seat, running to his side to rub his back
gently. Deku noticed the tear tracks, working hard to strain
his ears to hear inside the room.
Bakugou, finished with expelling his guts, dropped to his
knees. Ochako pulled him into a side hug, brushing his bangs
away from his sweaty forehead.
“He won’t stop seizing,” he whispered, Deku taking his
shaking arms into his hands, “he’s going to die, and I can’t
watch.”

162
Ochako buried her head in the crook of his neck as he sobbed.
Deku leaned on them both, attempting to keep his composure.
It felt like they were there for hours before the door opened
again.
Aoi stepped out, tears running down her cheeks.
“Bakugou,” she breathed, taking a step towards him, “It’s
okay. He’s okay.”
Bakugou just cried harder, hands burning holes into Ochako’s
jacket.
“I’m so sorry,” Aoi said, leaning down beside the trio, “I
shouldn’t have let you stay knowing that might happen. Of
course, it would affect you this badly.”
She set a hand on his face, as he started to pull himself
together, “You should stay outside until tomorrow. I’ll have
the nurses bring you some blankets.”
“No!” Bakugou pleaded, removing his hands from Ochako to
reach out to her, “I want to stay. I can’t leave him alone. Not
again.”
Aoi let out a breath, stroking his cheek, “You’re not. You’ll be
right here if he wakes up.”
Trying to crawl forward, he begged, “Please let me stay.
Please. I’m sorry for being too weak. I’ll be stronger this time!”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. You might be the strongest
boy I’ve ever met,” Aoi insisted. “I’ll come to get you if
anything happens.”
Bakugou gave up, a sight Deku never thought he’d see, and
fell back onto his heels. “Yes ma’am,” he mumbled.

163
Aoi got up, heading to the nurses’ station, as the three of them
fell against each other.

Kirishima had three more seizures before the morning came

around. Bakugou knew this because he had refused to fall
asleep. He had laid there, two chairs moved to form a
makeshift bed, and listened. He watched nurses and doctors
run in and out of the room.
The idea of waking up without Kirishima here was too much
to even think about. So he had stayed up, his eyes glued on the
door.
Deku and Ochako had fallen asleep fairly quickly, worn to the
bone from the stress of the day. Although Bakugou felt a tinge
of guilt when he looked at them, he had to admit he wouldn’t
have made it through the night if they hadn’t been here.
Bakugou only knew it was daytime because of the clock. The
lack of windows meant there was no way to tell when the sun
came up, but the hands were on that seven-thirty maker.
He had been waiting patiently for Aoi or Isamu to come to get
him, but they hadn’t, and the anxiety was getting to him.
Frustrated, Bakugou shoved the blanket off of him. He stood
on tired legs, his vision swaying from the exhaustion.
Breathing in deep to escape the blurriness, Bakugou walked
towards the room.
He noticed the curtains were pulled closed and the lights were
off. Knocking on the door lightly, it was immediately swung
open.

164
Isamu, looking like a dead man walking, was staring at him.
“Bakugou,” he said, trying to pull on a smile, “good morning.”
“Morning,” he responded, trying to look behind him.
Isamu glanced back, “Ah, don’t worry. He’s still there.” He
grimaced, body falling into the door.
“The doctors came in,” Bakugou said, shifting on his feet,
“does that mean they were able to heal him?”
“Some,” Isamu responded, still putting his weight on the
wood, “but his heart stopped a couple of times too, that’s why
they came in.”
Bakugou understood why Isamu was holding onto the heavy
oakwood for dear life. There was a rumbling of nausea in his
gut at the realization that they had all watched Kirishima die.
The fact that his death was a shared experience felt like a bag
of rocks on his chest.
“But,” Isamu said, sighing, “he is doing better. They’re not
sure if the seizures will ever stop, but his heart is healthy
enough that they were able to do some major repairs a few
hours ago. He hasn’t had an episode since. They’re pretty sure
he’ll wake up sometime today.”
“Can I see him?” Bakugou asked, hand moving as he
subconsciously reached forward.
Aoi appeared behind Isamu in the darkness, flicking on the
light switch, “I hate to leave Eijirou alone, but we really need
to eat.” She smiled at him warmly, “I think we can trust you
to watch him while we’re gone.”
Bakugou nodded furiously, itching to see him, “Of course! I’ll
be fine.”

165
“Okay,” Aoi said, kissing Isamu’s shoulder, “let’s go get some
food dear. It’s been a whole day since we’ve eaten.”
Isamu nodded, patting Bakugou’s shoulder gently as he
walked by. Aoi gave him a small wave as well.
Bakugou made his way into the room as fast as he could, eyes
finding Kirishima’s body immediately. Even after facing
death, he looked relatively the same. His eyes were still closed,
though the breathing tube that had been in his throat was
removed. His lips were parted, chest moving on its own. There
was just a small tube connected to his nose now.
Sighing in relief, Bakugou walked over to him. Even before
he’d gotten close, he noticed the tangles in Kirishima’s hair. It
was understandable, he had spent most of the night thrashing
around, his hair shoved up against the pillow.
Bakugou looked back at Aoi’s overnight bag. Trying to be
careful, he went through it, pulling out a black hairbrush. He
walked back over to Kirishima, flipping the brush around. Not
wanting to hurt him, he set him up a little, trying his best not
to jostle him as he climbed in behind his back.
Kirishima didn’t stir, even as Bakugou pulled his knees up to
keep him steady. His limp body laid against Bakugou, his head
falling back against his shoulder. Shifting his position,
Bakugou ran the brush gently through his hair, careful not to
pull too hard.
Brushing his hair seemed stupid, Kirishima probably wouldn’t
mind that his hair was tangled when he woke up, but
Bakugou felt useful for once. He was fixing a problem, and
that was good enough for him.
Kirishima shifted some, Bakugou freezing when he made a
small noise. He stared at him, waiting for anything else to
happen. He didn’t move anymore, face completely still.

166
Sitting back, Bakugou continued to brush his hair. He
watched the black strands part under the bristles. They looked
so soft, and Bakugou ran a hand through the detangled mess.
He pulled Kirishima back all the way, ignoring the pressure
his body put on his chest. He hugged him a little, kissing his
temple tenderly.
Moving out from behind him, Bakugou planted his feet back
on the floor. Trying to think of what to do, he pulled up a
chair, sitting down.
He was still very tired, his head resting against the back of the
seat. He kept his gaze on
Kirishima’s face, watching as his eyelids twitched. He leaned
forward, looking back to see if Isamu or Aoi were anywhere
near.
Kirishima’s eyes opened slowly, still partially rolled back as he
tried to block out the light. His head rocked around a bit, his
neck aching from the lack of movement.
Bakugou shot up, leaning on the railing as he breathed out of
a laugh of disbelief, “Kirishima! Holy fuck! Eijirou!”
Still blinking, he attempted to move his eyes over to the
blonde. Suddenly, there were hands on his face turning him
towards Bakugou, skin soft as velvet.
“You’re awake,” he laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips,
stealing a small whine from Kirishima. Then, he devolved into
sobs, “You’re awake.”
He leaned over the bed, peppering him with light kisses which
were barely reciprocated in
Kirishima’s weary state. His tired hand rested against
Bakugou’s side

167
Gripping him tightly, he reached for the call nurse button,
pressing it as leaned into Kirishima’s touch.
Kirishima laughed lightly, eyes barely open, “The afterlife is
so... nice.”
Bakugou’s joy was drained from him as he pulled away,
“What?”
“It’s so nice here,” he sighed, rubbing Bakugou’s arm with his
finger. “This is perfect. It’s everything I ever wanted.”
“Eijirou,” Bakugou whispered, brushing his bangs away,
“You’re not dead.”
Kirishima stilled under his touch, “What?”
“You’re not dead,” Bakugou said again.
“Y-Yeah I am,” Kirishima insisted, becoming a bit panicked.
“No, you’re not,” Bakugou repeated.
The heart rate chart began to beep rapidly, and Bakugou was
shoved off the bed. He watched Kirishima’s frantic eyes search
his surroundings, “No. No. No!”
He tore at the chest pads, ripping the adhesive away as the
nurse finally entered the room. “I did it this time! It worked!”
Kirishima wailed, thrashing on the bed as the nurse took in
the situation.
Terrified, Bakugou slotted himself in between the nurse and a
panting Kirishima. He stroked his face as the nurse turned his
attention to the cabinet. He retrieved a syringe as Bakugou
coaxed Kirishima’s trembling form, “Oi! Eijirou! You have to
calm down!”
“No! I’m a failure!” he wailed, trying to push Bakugou away.

168
Bakugou grabbed his hands, placing them against his face,
“Fuck, Eijirou, look at me!”
Kirishima stared at him as the nurse plunged the needle into
the IV. Bakugou kissed his hands as
Kirishima’s breathing slowed, “I’m glad your alive idiot. I’m
glad you failed.”
He sunk back into the pillows, red eyes trying desperately to
focus on Bakugou as he started to descend into a light state,
brain fuzzy from the drugs.
“I can’t do anything right,” he whispered, the chemicals
preventing him from crying as hard as he wanted to. “I can’t
even kill myself properly.”
Collapsing against the bed, his body too weak to keep him
upright, Bakugou choked, “Stop saying that shit.”
“But it’s true,” Kirishima breathed, eyes rolling back some.
“How can I be a hero when I’m like this?”
“Can’t I just enjoy the fact that you’re alive for a couple of
fucking minutes!” Bakugou screamed, earning a pointed look
from the nurse. His fire died down some, “You’ve been awake
for a fucking moment and you’re already concerned about
throwing yourself back off the cliff! Just stop!”
Kirishima opened his mouth to say something, only for the
door to swing open again. Aoi and Isamu stood there, both
pausing as they took in the sight before them.
“Eijirou?” Aoi rasped, dropping her coffee onto the floor.
Kirishima reached out, now fully under the effects of
whatever was in the needle, “Mama?”
“Eijirou!” she repeated, by his side in a flash. Bakugou backed
off, letting his parents have their space. Isamu kissed his son’s

169
forehead as Kirishima wrapped his hand in his shirt,
mumbling out apologies to both of his parents.
Bakugou suddenly felt very out of place, the room closing in
on him as he watched the scene.
Kirishima didn’t look at him or acknowledge his presence.
He suddenly felt very guilty.
Bakugou's first response to Kirishima’s stress was anger. He
had yelled at him right after he’d awoken from countless
nights of being in a coma. After that, he expected Kirishima to
want to talk to him? What an idiot.
Kirishima’s focus shouldn’t upset him, he had almost died. His
parents deserved time with him.
And Bakugou did not.
Backing out of the room, he made his way back to his friends,
still asleep on their doubled-up chairs. He wanted to shake
them awake but quickly decided against it. They deserved to
sleep more.
Sinking against the wall, he grabbed the blanket off the chair.
Covering himself with it, he rested his back on the plaster.
With guilt slithering through his stomach, he put his head in
his hands and cried.

I’m looking up at the stars right now.

…
Goodnight, Eijirou.

170
 CHAPTER XIII

Time is weird. Not in the sense that Bakugou didn’t

understand it, he understood it perfectly fine.
It still pissed him off though, that constant drag he was unable
to blast to pieces. Time marched on, Bakugou pulled behind it
by an unbreakable chain looped around his neck. He would
stumble and fall, snub his nose in the dirt and scrape his
knees.
And life would continue.
Bakugou hadn’t spoken to Kirishima in two months.
Time didn’t care that it hurt, that every day he woke up to no
missed calls or texts felt like a stab to the gut. If it did, it would
pause. It would stop and let him sprint around the world to
find
Kirishima, track him down to some nook or fucking cranny
and hold him until time restarted.
But it wouldn’t, because it didn’t care.

171
As the leaves turned red, a color he wished he could see
somewhere else, Bakugou pulled away from the class. He still
spoke to Deku and Ochako, kept up tabs with Denki and Sero,
and sometimes sent a hateful message to Mina that was
returned with the same spite, but it was different.
UA had given them a small break for fall, Bakugou barricaded
in the house since his parents had left for a fashion show.
He sat in his bedroom, eyes cast up at the ceiling looking at
the stars. Checking his phone for the hundredth time, he
pressed his lips together, the frustration gurgling in the back
of his throat. No notifications, same as always
He didn’t complain about the silence, he had never expected
Kirishima to forgive him in the first place. He sometimes
wondered if his friend even remembered the words they
exchanged when he awoke. If he did, the silence had to be
indicative of the hate he held for him.
Turning over onto his side, he buried his head into his pillow,
clutching the phone to his chest. His lungs felt full as he
drowned under a wave of guilt. Without an escape, he simply
resigned himself to laying in bed forever.
He heard the doorbell ring, perking up some as he sat up. It
rang again, sending Bakugou out of bed and shuffling down
the stairs. Making his way to the front door, past the living
room and kitchen, he turned the handle and pulled.
Deku and Ochako stood there, woven basket in hand as they
smiled wildly.
“No,” Bakugou said, trying to close the door.
“Come on!’ We have goodies!” Ochako protested, holding up
the basket so he could see its contents. There was chocolate,
different types of mochi, and spicy hard candy.

172
Deku put his hand out, stopping the door from closing, “and
we came to talk about Kirishima.”
Pausing, Bakugou slowly reopened the door, grimacing at the
brightness of the duo. “We’re talking about Kirishima and
then you’re leaving,” he mumbled, ripping the basket from
Ochako’s hands.
“Geez,” she said, putting her palms up, “fine.”
“Didn’t you hear? Kirishima should be returning to school
after break!” Deku said, leaning forward as he pushed past
Bakugou. Stunned, he moved back as the two invaded his
home.
“He said he’s doing a lot better!” Ochako also said, plopping
herself on the couch as if she lived there.
The pit in his stomach bubbled, making Bakugou feel
nauseous as he shut the door, “Cool.”
“Cool?” Ochako questioned as he set the basket down on the
coffee table. “Come on! He’s been gone for months! I thought
you’d be excited.”
Bakugou shrugged, “Sure, I guess.”
Deku sighed, sinking next to Ochako as they both noticed the
soda he’d stolen from the fridge while they were talking,
“Kacchan, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“I didn’t say shit,” Bakugou growled, causing Deku to roll his
eyes.
“Sure.”
“Boys,” Ochako said, moving between them, “can’t we enjoy
the fact our friend is coming back to school soon without
arguing?”

173
They both looked away, arms crossed.
“Why are you here though?” Bakugou asked, his eyes on a
shitty painting on the wall.
“Because,” Ochako grumbled, “because you haven’t talked to
us in a while. We wanted to see how you were.”
Bakugou scoffed, stalking off towards the stairs, “Fuck this,
I’m going to bed.”
“It is two in the afternoon, even your old man bedtime isn’t
that early,” Ochako responded, watching as he flipped her off
over his shoulder.
“We can’t talk about Kirishima’s phone call if you're in bed,”
Deku said, grabbing the remote to turn on the TV.
Making a long noise of frustration, he paused again only a
stair up, “Stop teasing me you fucking nerd!”
“I’m not,” Deku said, “I spoke to him on the phone a couple
of hours ago.”
Realizing what that meant, Bakugou didn’t move from his
spot, “He spoke to you?”
“Yeah, why?” Deku questioned, looking over the couch.
His chest felt heavy, tension crushing his shoulders as he
grasped the railing, “I didn’t think he was talking to anyone.”
“What?” Ochako asked, squinting at him, “He’s called
everyone in our class. Has he not called you?”
Bakugou felt his muscles relaxing as he became numb, “No.”
“Oh,” Ochako said, glancing at Deku, “I’m so sorry. We
didn’t-.”

174
“Whatever,” he mumbled, knocking his knuckles against the
wall. His mind was full of thoughts, most bad, as he ran
through all the reasons why he was the only one Kirishima
didn’t want to speak to him.
Ochako threw a pillow at him, snapping him out of his
thoughts, “Come on, sit down. We’ll tell you what he said.”
Turning around, Bakugou’s curiosity got the better of him and
he walked over to the couch.

Aoi stood at the doorway, shifting on her feet nervously. Isamu

rubbed her shoulder reassuringly as Kirishima packed his car,
boxes sat out on the sidewalk.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” She asked, taking a small step
forward.
Kirishima turned around, smiling softly, “Yeah mom, I’ll be
alright.”
He could still see the fear in his mom’s eyes. He understood,
when he had first woken up, he’d been really difficult. He
wouldn’t eat, refused to allow doctors to touch him, and often
ripped and destroyed his IVs. Anger was all he had felt in those
few weeks, but after a while, the fight had left him. His mom
had pleaded with him to stop, and he felt too guilty to
continue.
Due to UA’s threat of expulsion if he did otherwise, he’d
stayed in a psychiatric hospital, transferring over after his
brain had been fully healed.

175
Honestly, it had helped. It wasn’t fun, and he was still
miserable, but the disconnection from the people he thought
he was hurting stopped most of the worst thoughts.
He sat in therapy circles, took meds out of plastic cups, and
was annoyed until he finally ate. Things got better. They never
were fixed, he didn’t leave the hospital feeling new or great,
just better. A bit more whole.
He’d returned home after three weeks, spending the next few
catching up on homework, phone locked away by his own
volition. When he had finished, still under observation from
the hospital, he had asked for his phone back.
Kirishima had called every person he could immediately, even
his old friends. Everyone had been so kind, all of them saying
they were excited to see him back. For a moment, he had
forgotten why he hadn’t thought that they were friends in the
first place.
But when he’d picked up the phone to call Bakugou,
everything had gone downhill. His mom had told him about
how he’d stayed with him, even on the worst night. She didn’t
know why he left, and Kirishima couldn’t remember, but he
assumed it had to do with his state when he first woke up. He
could vaguely recall parts, though he was certain most of it
was a dream. Soft kisses and fingers sometimes awoke him
from his sleep.
He had seen the voicemails, and he’d caved and listened to
them too. Under the gruffiness of Bakugou’s voice was a note
of pain, and he never stopped, informing Kirishima of every
detail he’d missed
He’d yell, he’d get angry and scream through the speakers,
and Kirishima would listen. Other times he’d cry and beg him
to come back, to come home. Kirishima could hear small pops

176
and the static as Bakugou, who he swore he could see huddled
against the wall on his bedroom floor, sobbed into the mic.
Sometimes though, he would sound calm, retelling him stories
of the day as he audibly fiddled with his hoodie strings.
Something about those hurt most, the quiet acceptance of
Kirishima’s absence.
Kirishima had replayed them a hundred times, trying to build
up the courage to return the calls, but it didn’t seem right. He
was sick of telephone tag.
He wanted to see him in person.
A small droplet hit his face as he hugged his mom tight,
moving onto his dad when he was done, earring him a
squeeze. Isamu helped him pack up the rest of his boxes,
fitting them snugly in his passenger seat.
Hugging his parents a final time, he dusted his hands off and
hopped into the driver’s side.

Bakugou laid on the couch, arms outstretched as he stared at

the basket. He hadn’t moved since Deku and Ochako had
stopped by and left subsequently after a long discussion. He’d
been short with them, cutting them off constantly and
refusing to listen.
Listening hurt, reminding him of his longing to talk to his
friend who didn’t want to talk to him. It felt shitty because
they knew everything, and he knew nothing.

177
He wanted so desperately for his phone to buzz, for the screen
to light up so he could read his name and hit the green call
button. He’d keep checking, maybe forever, for a call back.
Some anime played in the background as Bakugou closed his
eyes, the sound of the rain pulling him closer to sleep.
There was a knock at the door.
Sighing hard, Bakugou stood up, grumbling as he yelled out,
“Damnit Deku, I told you not to come back!”
Ripping open the door, he stumbled when he caught sight of
who was in front of them.
Kirishima was staring at him, smiling sheepishly, “Uh... hey
man!”
Bakugou was frozen in place, the wood of the door burning
under his hand.
Kirishima glanced at it nervously. Suddenly, he bowed deeply,
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to ignore you!” He let out a breath,
still facing downwards, “After I recovered, UA insisted I be
sent to a mental hospital or I couldn’t continue my schooling.
They didn’t allow phones there.”
“I promise I’ve listened to every voicemail a hundred times!”
He said, finally looking upward, “I wanted to call you back,
but it felt wrong. We needed to talk face to face. I needed to
apologize to you in person.
“I brought you a gift basket of stuff that’s in my car. It’s got
glow-in-the-dark stars and those hot tamales you like! I had
your mom send me a picture of your old cat and I had a
plushie made of it.
Hopefully, that’s not too weird. I also have a small project for
us to-.”

178
His body moved on his own, surging forward to grab
Kirishima by his shoulders as he kissed him hard.
Kirishima caught him, wrapping his arms around his frame
as their lips met.
It wasn’t frantic or desperate as he thought it would be.
It was slow.
Bakugou trailed his hands up Kirishima’s shoulders as he
breathed him in, that ribbon pulling them as close together as
they could be. He took his time, imprinting the memory of
Kirishima right on his fingertips. His waist was held tight,
Kirishima leaning him backward some as he smiled into the
kiss.
He tasted like strawberry protein powder.
Pulling away for a moment, Bakugou kissed him underneath
his jaw, hand clutching his shirt. Shoving himself into the
crook of Kirishima’s neck, he could smell sage and rain and a
hint of the black ice from his car.
It was incredibly Eijirou.
He let the water hit his skin, dying down the heat as he pushed
further. Kirishima pressed a kiss to his hair, blinking the rain
off his eyelashes.
“You’re getting wet,” He tried, pulling back to look at the
blonde.
Bakugou glanced up, unable to tell if the water on his face was
tears or rain, “I thought you’d never want to talk to me again.”
“What?” Kirishima asked, grabbing him by the shoulders,
“No! That would never happen.”

179
“I left you there at the hospital,” Bakugou sniffled, the wind
picking up some.
“Bakugou, the rain-.”
“You should hate me. Why don’t you hate me?” Bakugou
asked, closing his eyes. Kirishima looked around, realizing his
phone was still in his pocket and was about to be soaked. He
latched onto Bakugou's wrist, pulling him back to the car.
Opening the back door, he pushed Bakugou inside, not caring
when his clothes dampened the towels that were laid down.
He climbed in beside him, shutting the door as the wind
howled outside.
They both sat there, panting as they tried to wrap their head
around the emotions.
“I’m sorry,” Bakugou said finally. “I should’ve been there.”
“You were,” Kirishima answered, grabbing a blanket out of
the top box. He wrapped it around Bakugou’s shoulders,
pulling it over his head to dry him off. He ran his hands back
and forth over blonde hair, Bakugou scrunching his face up
at the motion.
Kirishima smiled as he slowed his movement, wiping some of
the water off Bakugou’s face, “Mom told me you were there.
She also told me how you stayed that night, and how I was
difficult when I woke up.” He pulled his soaked jacket off,
pulling the top box into the driver’s seat so he could rummage
through it.
He pulled out two hoodies and a pair of sweats., “She said it
was hard for you, but you stayed with me when I was asleep.”
”It doesn’t matter anyway. Honestly, I don’t know if I would’ve
let you back into my room after I woke up.” He pulled

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Bakugou's wet shirt off like it was nothing, quickly replacing
it with his old Crimson Riot hoodie.
He did the same to himself, relishing in the feeling of soft
cotton against his skin. Bakugou stared at him like he was
insane, “I was angry I had failed, and I probably would’ve
taken it out on you.” He offered the sweatpants, “You can
wear them. I won’t look either!”
Bakugou snaked their pinkies together, bundled up with a
fresh hoodie and the blanket over his knees, “S’ fine.”
“Bakugou.”
“I said it’s fine,” Bakugou insisted, leaning down to place his
head on Kirishima’s shoulder.
Kirishima shifted some, grabbing Bakugou's hand fully as they
sat in the noise of the rain.
“Was Fruits Basket really your favorite anime?”
Bakugou groaned, looking up towards the ceiling of the car,
“Stop.”
“You had a cat! You had a cat you named after the main
character of fucking Fruits Basket,”
Kirishima said, giggling slightly.
Bakugou dropped down, resting his head against Kirishima’s
thighs, using the blanket to protect from the water, “Yes, I
did.”
“Your favorite flavor of candy is cherry but you don’t like
actual cherries,” Kirishima stated, running his fingers
through Bakugou’s hair.
“I said that,” Bakugou responded curtly, ignoring how good
the massage felt.

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Kirishima continued his motions, “you sang the Pokémon
theme song for your talent show in second grade.”
“Okay, that’s enough idiot,” Bakugou growled, knocking a
hand against his chest.
“No way! You said I could make fun of you as much as I
wanted!” Kirishima laughed, bending down slightly as his
fingers connected to Bakugou’s temple.
He turned away frowning, “Whatever.”
Kirishima kept staring, brushing the hair from his face, “You
keep souvenirs from your hikes and you run while listening
to girl pop bands and you hate the feeling of velvet and… you
love me.”
Bakugou paused, eyes meeting Kirishima’s as his face
softened, “I do.”
His face dropped some as he glanced off to the side, “It’s gonna
suck, you know that right?”
“What is?” Bakugou asked, propping himself up some.
“Loving me,” Kirishima responded, “I’m not… fixed. I’ll still
slip up and make a thousand mistakes.”
Bakugou scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Do you know who you’re
talking to?”
Chuckling, Kirishima wiped at his face, “Yeah, yeah. You’re
not as bad as you think.” He sighed,
“I’m just saying that I can be a burden at times. I might drag
you down.”
Bakugou grabbed Kirishima’s hand, pulling it away from his
face, “Sure, sometimes you are a lot, and sometimes I have a
hard time keeping up.” He leaned up fully, inches away from

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Kirishima’s face, “but what kinda hero would I be if I couldn’t
carry that weight when you need me too.”
“It’s heavier than you think,” Kirishima rasped, trying not to
meet his eyes.
“I don’t mind,” Bakugou kissed him softly for no less than a
second, grabbing his wrist as he pulled away. “You’re worth
the burden.”
Kirishima crumbled under Bakugou’s touch, the little pieces
of him pulling apart and reconnecting as he was peppered
with light kisses. He grasped at the old hoodie as Bakugou put
him back together with light fingers and lighter lips, rain
thumping against the windows.
As the night faded along with the downpour, the two made
their way back into the house, Kirishima followed by curses
about wet clothes and wetter floors.

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 CHAPTER XIV

“Are you sure about this?” Bakugou asked, looking at

Kirishima in the mirror.
He thought about it really hard, staring at his reflection as
Bakugou trailed his hands over his shoulders. Fiddling with
his fingers, he shifted in his seat.
“Yeah, I think I am,” Kirishima said, looking up at him and
smiling. Bakugou nodded, still seeming completely unsure.
He picked up some things from the counter, eyes glued on the
bowl, “I have no fucking idea what to do.”
Kirishima laughed, grabbed the stuff from his hands and he
scooted his chair closer to the sink.
“Yeah, I didn’t think you would. That’s alright,” Kirishima
said, mixing everything he needed as Bakugou watched.
Kirishima stuck his tongue out, the little bit resting between
his lips catching Bakugou’s eye.

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Scoffing, he poked it, causing Kirishima to retract backward,
“Heh, you look like a dog.”
Scowling, Kirishima punched his thigh, causing Bakugou to
jump up onto one leg, “Oi! What the fuck asshole!”
“Stop making fun of me!” Kirishima replied, going back to
mixing what was in the bowl.
After a while, he handed it back to him along with the brush,
“You sure you can handle this Katsuki?”
He growled, “Fuck off. You looking down on me?”
“Not at all!” Kirishima assured, turning back around in his
seat.
Holding up the brush, now covered with bleach, to his
boyfriend’s head, Bakugou stopped, “Uh…
roots first.”
“Nope!” Kirishima replied, moving his head away first. “Roots
last.” He grabbed a ponytail off the counter and tied his hair
up, leaving the bottom section out, “There! Start with that.”
“Uh, okay,” Bakugou said nervously, holding a piece of hair
with his gloved hand as he ran the brush over it.

Kirishima stared back at his blonde hair, washed out with

water and dried enough to take the dye, “Katsuki! You did so
well!”
“Of course I did idiot,” Bakugou mumbled, turning his
feverish face away. He pulled off his gloves, ready to put on a

185
new set for the red. Kirishima grabbed his hand as he turned
away, dragging him towards him.
He stared at him for a moment before kissing his hand soft,
feather-light, “Thank you so much for helping me Katsuki. I-
.” He closed his watery eyes, “I didn’t want to do it by myself.”
Leaning down, Bakugou kissed his forehead, hands still
intertwined, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, idiot. Of course
I’d help.”
Smiling, Kirishima leaned into his lips, chasing them after he
pulled away.
Bakugou finally untangled their fingers, reaching for a new
pair of gloves and the red dye.
Kirishima looked at himself in the mirror, eyes set on the
blonde. He touched it gently, fingers running through his hair
as he took it in.
“What are you thinking about?” Bakugou asked, retaking his
place behind him.
Kirishima’s face was oddly helpless, “We look kinda similar,
yeah?”
Sighing with a small laugh, Bakugou rolled his eyes, “Yeah, a
little.”
“I never noticed it before,” Kirishima said, tapping his fingers
against his scalp. “I can’t believe I’m going to miss the
blonde.”
Glancing between their reflections, Bakugou could see the
bittersweet expression he wore. With a huff, he scooped a bit
of the red dye out and grabbed a piece of his hair that was
resting against his scalp.

186
‘What are you-?” Kirishima started, watching as Bakugou
lathered the strip with red, face twisted in complete
concentration.
“Tie one of your weird fucking horn pieces up,” Bakugou
muttered, still focused on his task. Kirishima did, separating
away a piece that was similar to Bakugou’s as he watched him
ruin his perfect blonde hair.
“There,” he said, turning to his boyfriend with a wicked
smirk, “now we’ll match. Blonde and red.”
Blinking slowly, Kirishima sat back in his seat, Bakugou diving
right into painting his hair with dye. He listened to the drag
of the brush, felt the bristles touch his skin as Kirishima simply
let Bakugou fix his mistake.
After a few minutes, Kirishima whispered, “You want to
match with me?”
“Duh,” Bakugou said, acting as though it was a fact Kirishima
should’ve known before birth.
With a small grin, Kirishima relaxed into his touch.

“Done!” Bakugou said, taking the towel off his head.

Kirishima stood up to look into the mirror, eyes on the
firetruck hair that was his hair.
His soul swelled inside of him, filling up his chest cavity and
making him unable to breathe. For the first time in so long, he
didn’t look like that kid from middle school. His eyes were still
tired, still looking for the next mishap, but he was absent of
the drowning darkness.

187
Tears spilled out of his overfilled eyes as he looked back at
Bakugou, who seemed shell-shocked, “Did I fuck it up? I can
do it again!”
Kirishima wrapped him up in a crushing hug, picking him up
off his feet as he wheezed. Bakugou grasped him back, sighing
in relief, “It’s good?”
“Yeah, it’s perfect,” Kirishima wept, face buried in Bakugou’s
chest.
They stayed like that for a bit, Bakugou dangled in the air as
Kirishima cried softly.
“Are you ready to go back?” Bakugou asked, touching his new
hair.
Kirishima nodded, unable to produce much more than
sounds. He put Bakugou’s feet back on the floor, still wrapped
up in his embrace.
Bakugou pulled the seat around and sat them both down,
Kirishima in his lap.
“You look good,” Bakugou mumbled, rubbing his back as
soothing as he could.
Kirishima laughed lightly, hands clutching his black hoodie,
“Thanks.”
Bakugou nodded, kissing his temple. Kirishima pulled back,
wiping at his face, “I… I’m sorry.”
Shaking his head, Bakugou leaned forward, “I already told
you I don’t care if you cry.”
“Not about that, I just-,” Kirishima swallowed hard, fingers
trailing up his wrist, “I’m sorry about the silence.”

188
“You already apologized, idiot,” Bakugou grumbled, turning
his face to the side.
Wrapping their hands together, Kirishima ran his thumb over
Bakugou’s fingers, “But I feel like you’re still blaming yourself.
When I woke up, I was so angry that I didn’t want to speak
with my own parents. I don’t blame you for not coming back,
because even if you had, I wouldn’t have spoken to you. It
was… embarrassing being alive.”
Bakugou sniffled, gaze still glued on the wall as Kirishima
continued, “Then, I was in the mental hospital for weeks and
I didn’t have my phone and I-.”
“You can stop apologizing,” Bakugou rasped, pulling him
closer. “Can we just admit that we’re both gonna feel like shit
and move on.”
Huffing, Kirishima closed his eyes, “But I don’t want you to
feel that way.”
“Remember when you told me words couldn’t fix you?”
Bakugou said, “I’m always going to feel like I could’ve done
more. I’m always going to feel like I should’ve tried harder or
went to the hospital again and again until you let me in. I feel
like I wasn’t good enough, and that’s not going to go away.”
Kirishima brushed Bakugou’s newly red streak, “I wish I could
make you realize that’s not true.”
Bakugou grabbed his wrist, staring at him with a hardened
gaze, “and I wish I could make you realize that you’re worth
more than not feeling the bad shit.”
Taken aback, Kirishima grimaced, dropping his head, “I don’t
think I’ll ever feel that way.”
“Then I guess you’re stuck with me until you do,” Bakugou
mumbled, connecting their lips.

189
They sunk into each other, connected at the hands as he kissed
him slowly.
Kirishima pulled away for a moment, “and if I do realize, are
you gonna stick with me after?”
Grinning, Bakugou squeezed their fingers, “Duh, dummy.”

Nervously, Kirishima tapped his feet against the tile, “Do you
think they’ll be mad?”
“No, and if they are I’ll beat them into a pulp,” Bakugou
growled, holding his hand tight.
Kirishima nodded, putting a finger in his collar to let out the
hot air. Grabbing his tie, Bakugou loosened it, a breath
escaping Kirishima, “You’re going to choke yourself.”
He laughed tensely as Bakugou ran fingers through his hair,
pulling on the little blonde piece.
“You can go back to the dorms,” He supplied.
Groaning, Kirishima shook his head like a wet dog, “No, I have
to go in.”
His stomach was churning, making him nauseous. He really
felt like he needed to puke, but swallowed it down as he
gripped Bakugou’s hand tighter.
“Okay, I’m ready,” Kirishima said, stepping forward even
though he was very much not ready.

190
He pushed open the door, finally able to hear Aizawa's voice.
He was speaking on some type of fighting strategy, the words
garbled from the nerves.
Stepping fully in the room, he was surrounded by silence.
Everyone was staring at him, looking so deep into his soul that
he felt the need to hide, glancing around for spots to disappear
into.
With a sigh, Aizawa set down his mug and studied him before
gesturing with his hand, “Welcome back Kirishima.”
The class moved in sync, everyone scrambling out of their
seats and surrounding Kirishima in a moment. He felt
extremely overwhelmed.
“Oh my god, you’re back!”
“We’re so glad you’re okay!”
“Are you still hurt? Are you back full time?”
Bakugou stepped in front of them, growling frighteningly
similar to a rabid dog, “Back the fuck off. You’re making him
uncomfortable.”
Everyone seemed to take a big step away at once, Ochako and
Deku remaining in the circle.
“I’m happy you’re back,” Midoriya said gently, resting a hand
on his shoulder.
Grabbing his arm, Ochako gazed up at him with watery eyes,
“You look so good!”
With trembling lips, Kirishima smiled, “Thank you, guys.” He
turned his attention to the class, “I’m glad to be back.”

191
As the comments and questions continued, he caught sight of
Sero and Denki. They seemed tired, the bags under their eyes
a mix of dark colors as they kept their lips sealed. Kaminari
put his hand up and waved a little, trying his best to smile.
Kirishima waved back, chest tightening at the gesture.
His gaze was torn from them by a pink hand extending
outwards. In it was a journal, black and small; it was almost
mistakable for his old one.
“Take it,” Mina said, thrusting it out again.
Kirishima took it slowly, the distraction giving him only a
moment of reprieve before the mummers started up again,
turning into chatter, and back into yelling.
He smiled, the familiarity of his surroundings settling deep
into his bones as Bakugou intertwined their fingers. Soft hair
brushed against his shoulder.
The class exploded.

Kirishima sat in his little nook, hands on the book he’d been
given. He had yet to open it, a bit afraid of what he might see
inside.
It was actually the same brand as his old journal, which he
was sure had been trashed ages ago. The spine was worn, the
cover torn in spots. It was obviously well used, which
confused Kirishima even more.
He opened it, eyes searching the first page.

192
Examining closer, he could see that it was signed by all of his
classmates and some outside of it, like Tetsutetsu and Shinsou.
As he flipped through the pages, he saw the bunch of scattered
paragraphs.
One for each of the people that had signed the inside of the
cover.
Most of them took up two pages, some more or a little less, but
they were all kind. Filled with compliments and stories,
Kirishima scanned each note carefully, soaking in every
detail. He trailed his finger over some of the words, tearing up
a bit as he stared at the ink. They were all so kind, expressing
how much they missed him and hoped he would be okay.
Kirishima wondered what would’ve happened to his class if
he hadn’t returned.
Wrapped up in the book, he didn’t notice a pair approaching
him.
Sero waited patiently for his acknowledgment as Kaminari’s
foot tapped the ground. Torn from his reading by the noise,
Kirishima looked up.
The room surged with tension as the three exchanged a stare.
Then, both boys bowed deep.
“We’re so sorry Kirishima!” Sero said, facing downwards.
Kaminari nodded, pulling up his hand to wipe at his face.
Stuttering, Kirishima tripped over his words, “You don’t have
to do that. H-Hey, get up.”
They both rose, Kirishima able to see the tears Sero was trying
to hold back, and the ones Denki couldn’t.

193
Kirishima put his hands up, trying to make the gesture
reassuring, “It’s not your fault!”
“But it is,” Kaminari replied, taking a step closer, “We
abandoned you this summer, made you feel alone. That was
shitty of us. We were trying not to take sides but we kinda did
anyway.”
Sero agreed, “We feel awful. Is there anything we can do to
make you forgive us?”
Glancing between the both of them, Kirishima paused. He was
hesitant to let them back in so soon after the pain these last
months had caused. Looking at them now though, they
seemed so sad, faces pale and eyes sunken in just a bit.
In a moment of weakness, Kirishima spoke, “I can’t. Not yet.”
It was harsh, and it felt bad, but it was the truth, “This summer
hurt a lot and I need more time to sort things out.”
The boys deflated, Kaminari turning away to cover his face as
Sero nodded slowly. Kirishima’s leg shook fiercely as the guilt
ate at him.
“Yeah, we didn’t think you would,” Sero said, a sad smile on
his face.
Kaminari sucked in a breath through the tears, “That’s alright
man, we understand.”
Kirishima wanted to reach out so badly, but he needed time to
reconnect with them before he threw himself into that
situation. He barely trusted himself around Bakugou; he still
felt like he was stumbling with every step. To rush back into
being friends with them, he knew it’d be a mistake.
“Well, um,” Kaminari sniffled, pulling his hoodie sleeve over
his hand, “We’ll see you around.”

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As they turned to walk away, Kirishima stood up, body
moving mostly on its own, “Me and Bakugou are having a
movie night with Deku and Ochako tomorrow.”
The pair looked over their shoulder before glancing at each
other.
“You should come,” Kirishima said, extending the olive
branch as far out as he could, hoping they would take it.
“Yeah,” Kaminari whispered, voice hoarse, “We’ll be there.”
They took their leave, Kirishima left behind with a black
notebook.

He knew there would be gifts waiting for him upon his return,
it had happened with his parents too. Deep down, he believed
that most people thought they could fix pain with a present.
They weren’t wrong per se, though the fix was more like
putting a staple in a stab wound than a bandaid over a
papercut.
He hadn’t expected, however, the number of gifts that would
be waiting for him.
Here he stood, in front of his door, unable to get through due
to the mountain of gifts. Aizawa had actually told him he had
more to bring up, which seemed impossible because
everything under the sun seemed to be sitting on his doorstep.
As he looked at the mound of gifts, he heard footsteps coming
up the stairs.
When he looked over, he was met with pink.

195
“Kirishima,” Mina said, walking over to him.
He froze, unable to think of an answer. However, she seemed
unfazed, “The silent treatment? Ah, should’ve guessed.
“What do you want?” He finally said, shifting his gaze back
to the presents.
She didn’t say anything for a moment, tapping her finger
against her thigh, “I’ve been an asshole. You have every right
to be angry with me.”
“If you’re going to say what I think you’re going to say, don’t,”
Kirishima said, scoffing.
“I’m saying I’m sorry,” Mina said, sighing, “and I’m telling
you not to forgive me.”
Kirishima tilted his head, “Then why apologize?”
“Because I feel bad, I genuinely do. What I did was fucked up
and wrong and I’m a bad person for doing it,” she answered,
looking over the mound of gifts. “I did it because being around
you felt shitty, still feels shitty - even if it’s for a different
reason.”
She kicked at the ground, “and now, because of what I did,
being around me makes you feel shitty, right?”
He didn’t want to reply, but the silence seemed to say enough.
“Yeah, I know,” she turned to him, expression still
unreadable. “You hurt me on accident, so I hurt you on
purpose because I thought it was fair. That pain isn’t going to
go away for a long time, maybe ever. You deserve the space to
heal Kirishima. After everything I’ve taken, maybe I can give
you that back.”

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He stared at her in awe; the exchange was awfully mature for
a teenage girl whose life experience boiled down to learning
to cheat death.
Or maybe it was perfectly mature enough.
Kirishima didn’t know.
She picked up a box of Ochako’s candies, ripping open the
bag to hand him one.
It was the cinnamon kind he knew she knew he didn’t like, “If
there’s anyone you should forgive, it’s the boys. They were
torn up about it from the start.”
He nodded, half-listening and half-processing as she took a
step back.
“I’ll see you around,” Mina said, walking off towards the stairs
with a wave.
Kirishima watched her before the same wave of adrenaline
surged over him, “Mina!”
She looked back, wary.
Kirishima grinned wide, “I hate you.”
Taking a moment to process what she heard, Mina blinked.
Then she smiled too.“Yeah. I hate you too, Red.”
She left, taking his candy with her down the stairs.
Kirishima could feel the tears fall over his cheeks, colder than
usual. He felt like he was grieving, the tightness in his tongue
feeding the pit in his stomach as it swallowed up all the
memories of the past, spitting them back into his face as he
cried.

197
It felt relieving to be torn from her, and yet it still hurt in this
all-consuming way. Pieces of him that had rotted away were
being torn apart, and it was for the best, but fuck if it wasn’t
painful.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, jumping at the sudden
sensation.
He turned, Bakugou’s hands catching his face. Trying his best
to blink away the tears, he could hear Bakugou’s concern,
“What happened? Eijirou, c’mon.”
“Mina,” he managed to rasp, clasping onto Bakugou’s wrist.
His face soured, looking over Kirishima's shoulder, “She said
some awful shit, didn’t she? I swear of my life if she did
something mean I’ll-.”
Kirishima shook his head, laughing through the sobs,
“Actually, I think she did something really nice.”
Cocking his head in confusion, Bakugou sputtered, “Then
why are you crying?”
Kirishima wrapped his hands around Bakugou’s waist,
pulling him in close as he rested his head on his shoulder, “It
hurts .”
Bakugou quickly returned the hug, his hands rubbing circles
in his back that reminded Kirishima of a little spell; it was like
he was trying to rid his body of the demons that plagued it.
Falling into the rhythm of Bakugou’s movement, he feared he
might fall asleep standing up.
“I wanna sleep,” Kirishima mumbled, dragging himself away
from the warm body, little specks of Bakugou body stuck to
him.

198
“Go ahead,” Bakugou said, gesturing to the door, “I’ll bring
the gifts in and I’ll lay with you.”
So, Kirishima cuddled up in his bed, listening to Bakugou huff
and pant as he made several trips back and forth.
Once the dragging and placing had ceased, Kirishima felt the
bed dip, hands touching his shoulder.
He shifted, spinning to grab Bakugou’s hand, dragging him
down next to him. He laid his head down on his arm,
Kirishima’s hand running up his back and resting against his
absent wings, shoulder blades dull and welcoming. His
forehead touched Kirishima’s chest, listening intently to the
heartbeat thump like a snare drum.
“I missed your hair,” Bakugou admitted, speaking the words
into the dark room with a glowing ceiling.
Kirishima snorted, “Does it remind you of the old me?”
“No,” He responded, tilting his head up to barely brush
Kirishima’s lips with his. “It reminds me of Eijirou. Every
Eijirou.”
Bakugou kissed him, Kirishima breathing him in like a party
drug he couldn’t get enough of.
Hands tangled themselves in his hair as they flipped positions.
Kirishima noticed Bakugou tasted vaguely of strawberry
protein powder.
He hadn’t tasted like that before.
With the stars hung above them, Bakugou used his calloused
hands to pull Kirishima apart, setting the foundation for a new
story to be told on Kirishima’s scarred skin.
And it felt right. It felt like living.

199
Fin

200
 Author’s notes

just a psa for chapter VIII, I was not trying to get you
to like Mina, just explain some actions. I am not
condoning anything bad either of them have done,
but mental illness makes you do bad shit
sometimes and that can fuck with other people. I
am in no way saying you have to like her, but please
don’t attack me for presenting reasonings for
characters actions. I thought I made it clear
Kirishima was apologetic because he’s in a spot
where he thinks everything is his fault, not because
he is completely wrong.

Wow... it's over. this fic has been such a journey for
me as someone who was really just writing about
their struggles. If you take anything for this, it's that
you don't have to revert to the person from before
to be happy. Trauma and mental illness do define
you in ways, in little spaces of yourself you feel like
you can never clean. That doesn't mean you can't
be happy if some parts of you are tainted. I promise
you will be alright. The person who was happy is
still you, and they still have a chance.

So much love,
- bri

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