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“You’re up late,” Kirishima said as he came around the bend. Their base of operations was smack-dab in the middle of a junkyard, and one of their many attractions was an old pick-up truck with a mattress stuffed into the bed. On occasion, when he was off guard duty, Bakugou could be found laying on that mattress, staring up at the stars. It was one of the most comfortable places in the whole joint, and even then it wasn’t all that comforting, but it’s all they had. On a night like that night – clear skies, a nice breeze, an easy coolness – that truck was the best place to be.
“Of fucking course I am,” Bakugou said. He had an old pillow case stuffed with hay underneath his head, and a gun at his side. You never know when you’ll need it.
“Mind if I join you?” Kirishima asked, although he was already getting into the truck, climbing up and laying down next to Bakugou. The mattress was stiff and the pillows were itchy, but they took what they could get. They were at least grateful that they had the opportunity to relax in the first place. “It’s sure nice out tonight. The stars are beautiful.”
“Yeah.”
Kirishima looked to Bakugou. “What are you thinking about?”
“Fuck off.”
“Come ooon,” Kirishima said as he rolled onto his side, looking at Bakugou head-on.“You know you can talk to me. Besides you could die tomorrow so... no regrets!”
“No regrets,” Bakugou repeated, eyes still stuck on the stars. Then with a sigh, he looked to Kirishima. “What’re you gonna do once this shit is over?”
“Assuming I survive?”
“You will survive you fucking moron.”
“Well, assuming I do–”
“You will.”
“–I’m going to go and buy an extra large pizza with everything on it and I’m going to eat the whole thing in one sitting.”
“The whole fucking thing?”
“Yeah! What about you?”
Bakugou paused for a moment, tongue in cheek. He turned so he was looking up at the stars again, staring off into space, wishing he was up there instead of down here. Down here with all the death and destruction and madness. Oh the horror. He tried not to think about it... but it was hard not to with men patrolling the walls, armed with assault rifles and hatchets. It didn’t help that they were also lying on a shitty mattress in a shitty truck that couldn’t even work long enough to run the heater.
“I’m going to go find my parents.”
Kirishima, who a moment ago had been so quick to speak, suddenly lost the mind to. For a moment his smile faded, his warmth faltered... He always tried so hard not to think about his family. Here, when he didn’t know where they were, alive or dead, it was best not to wonder. Thinking about it only made it worse. But just as quickly his expression recovered, returning to its usual coziness. Even if it hurt him to think about it he couldn’t let it show. Not when Bakugou needed his reassurance more than anything.
“I want to find them,” Bakugou continued. “Even if they’re fucking dead I want to find them. I want to put them to rest. They–they didn’t deserve any of this shit. I can’t...” Bakugou shut his eyes tight, biting the inside of his cheek hard.
Kirishima reached out and took his hand.
“Look I’m a shithead I know, but my parents took care of my ass anyway, and if they’re somewhere out there then I want to make sure they get some proper fucking respect.”
“I understand.”
“And if that means that I’m going to have to bury their bodies myself then I’m going to fucking do it, I swear I will.”
Kirishima watched Bakugou as he spoke. He saw those little flickers of emotion pass through the backs of his eyes, only ever held at bay by a fervent biting of his lips. At this rate they would bleed. Kirishima spoke up. “And if– when we get out of here, I’ll help you look for them too.” He ran his thumb across the back of Bakugou’s hand, and Bakugou returned it with a squeeze. “It’s you and me. We’re in this together, to the end.”
“Yeah.”
Then came that silence again, that dreadful silence, the kind that crept into the night and filled the air with some horrible stillness. Sometimes, the silence was good. Sometimes, the silence was safe. But sometimes it was just the calm before the storm. They could only hope that the night would treat them well. If not, then they could only hope that they lived well.
Bakugou took the chance to drown out any other emotions with the biting cool and the engulfing quiet. Fear? Sadness? Love? There was no room for those sorts of feelings out here, now, when the only way one could survive was with anger . Rage. An undying, ever passionate will to survive. One had to be fueled, almost entirely, by an unkept determination that occasionally culminated into the violent end of another human being. Sometimes Bakugou had to remind himself that he was only ever allowed to be angry.
Even when, sometimes, he wanted to ball up and cry. When he thought about his family, his friends, and pondered their fates, he wanted to give in.
Even when, sometimes, he wanted to hide and cower. When he looked to the demons on their doorstep, their decaying bodies, their crooked moans, their dead eyes... he wanted to give up.
Even when, sometimes, he looked to Kirishima.
When the thought came to mind Bakugou looked to him, and saw that smile on his lips and that shine in his eyes. It sent Bakugou's heart fluttering. The feeling was weird, uncomfortable. His frown deepened and he yanked his eyes away, looking somewhere, anywhere, except Kirishima. For some reason his stomach was in knots and it seemed so hard to breathe.
“Stop fucking looking at me like that you moron,” Bakugou muttered.
“Why?” Kirishima asked, because he already knew the answer.
“Don’t play dumb.”
Kirishima swore he caught a glimpse of red ears, so he unwound their hands, took his arm and wrapped it around Bakugou’s chest, pulling him close enough to cuddle. Bakugou immediately retaliated, pressing an arm between the two of them, shoving Kirishima’s face away. “Hey, fuck off! What if someone fucking sees us, idiot?!”
“Dude, no regrets, remember?”
Kirishima thought he’d have to continue to fight, to pester, until one of them gave up. That’s how things usually went at least. But at those words Bakugou seemed to falter, the palm of his hand still pressed firmly to Kirishima’s cheek but with no real force behind it. Kirishima couldn’t help but to try decipher his expression. Bakugou’s brow was furrowed, his lips still stuck in a frown, but with an intensity in his gaze unlike any other. It wasn’t anger, or sadness, but hesitation. Inner conflict. His mind wished one thing while his body another, and for a moment Kirishima saw himself in those eyes, all those years ago, when he grappled with his own self-worth.
It shouldn’t be so hard to love who you love.
But then Bakugou’s grip turned gentle. His hands slid into unkempt locks and – they kissed.
He remembered, then, that sometimes it’s okay to feel fear, sadness, love, who gives a shit. Sometimes the anger isn’t worth it. Sometimes you just need to curl up with your best friend in the back of a shitty pickup truck on a shitty mattress and wish the world away.
Sometimes,
It’s okay.
”I’m here.”