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It was warm.
The warmest thing he’d ever felt. Explosions may have come from his hands only mere seconds before, but the heat didn’t compare. This heat was consistent, inviting, immediately twisting the adrenaline buried in his veins into something much more and he knew that+
The warmest thing he’d ever felt. Explosions may have come from his hands only mere seconds before, but the heat didn’t compare. This heat was consistent, inviting, immediately twisting the adrenaline buried in his veins into something much more and he knew that+
it wasn’t entirely because he’d been ‘rescued’.
Even the tight hold from the big, rough hand he’d seen harden more times than he could count was somehow soft yet firm, even though the grip they had on each other was almost suffocating the hands with the desperation the action.+
Even the tight hold from the big, rough hand he’d seen harden more times than he could count was somehow soft yet firm, even though the grip they had on each other was almost suffocating the hands with the desperation the action.+
Bakugou barely noticed it until it was gone, until suddenly they hit the ground and Kirishima’s hand slipped from his. He still wonders if the redhead noticed how he instinctively trailed behind, chasing that perfect equivalent of an embrace like children chasing each+
other in tag.
So much was happening. Every single one of his senses completely overwhelmed but numb, emotions completely all over the place for every reason possible and the only sensation he had began to consider kind of grounding had left him.+
So much was happening. Every single one of his senses completely overwhelmed but numb, emotions completely all over the place for every reason possible and the only sensation he had began to consider kind of grounding had left him.+
And when that opportunity presented itself again, when Kirishima reached down to take that hand again, what had Bakugou done?
Shook him away.
It was mostly because of the shock, the sudden touch completely jolting every nerve possible to the point he was in fight or flight.+
Shook him away.
It was mostly because of the shock, the sudden touch completely jolting every nerve possible to the point he was in fight or flight.+
It was hard to focus on it anyway, what with everything that was happening right in front of him, the panic from the people he was supposed to win for coming from literally every angle.
It was too loud. It was too loud. It was too loud too loud too loud-
It was too loud. It was too loud. It was too loud too loud too loud-
So now he’s here, staring at his own hand, wondering if he’ll ever be able to admit what he wants. No, at this point, it’s what he /needs/.
Sometimes at night, if he really tries hard enough, the phantom feeling of that warmth lingers ever so slightly. It’s how he’s started+
Sometimes at night, if he really tries hard enough, the phantom feeling of that warmth lingers ever so slightly. It’s how he’s started+
getting himself to sleep properly.
“You’re really zoning out, Kacchan! Better focus in class or I might surpass you!”
Kaminari. He isn’t a bad guy, but /fuck/ he really doesn’t know how far is too far sometimes.
“You’re really zoning out, Kacchan! Better focus in class or I might surpass you!”
Kaminari. He isn’t a bad guy, but /fuck/ he really doesn’t know how far is too far sometimes.
It’s only been a week. But in Bakugou& #39;s eyes, that’s a week too long. He should be over this by now. What kind of hero gets caught up like this? A weak one.
The thoughts are still so loud. He can still hear those panicked people, the looks on+
The thoughts are still so loud. He can still hear those panicked people, the looks on+
their faces as their symbol of peace fell, and it was all because of /him/.
Because he didn’t win. He didn’t win. He didn’t win he didn’t win he didn’t win-
“I really am worried about you. I don’t mean that in a ‘you can’t handle it way’.”
Kirishima.+
Because he didn’t win. He didn’t win. He didn’t win he didn’t win he didn’t win-
“I really am worried about you. I don’t mean that in a ‘you can’t handle it way’.”
Kirishima.+
They have moved into dorms, him being placed next to Bakugou, which he can’t tell is a good or bad thing. It’s not surprising how often they’ve started staying late with each other.
Bakugou had been told that time is what he needs. However, if anything, the time is making+
Bakugou had been told that time is what he needs. However, if anything, the time is making+
it worse. In that time All Might is still deteriorating, and Bakugou is slowly but surely forgetting.
It’s getting harder and harder to remember the grounding warmth, the calloused and soft but firm feeling equivalent to a perfect embrace.+
It’s getting harder and harder to remember the grounding warmth, the calloused and soft but firm feeling equivalent to a perfect embrace.+
“You’ve been looking at your hand a lot,” Eijirou sounds nervous. It’s not a question but a careful observation. “Is it because-”
“Please,” the blond chokes out, hanging his head while gripping his hand into a fist, trying /so fucking hard/ to feel it.+
“Please,” the blond chokes out, hanging his head while gripping his hand into a fist, trying /so fucking hard/ to feel it.+
Just once more. That’s all he needs. “It’s cold.”
Kirishima doesn’t need any more words. If he’s wrong about this then he can always back up, but this is what Bakugou needs right now.+
Kirishima doesn’t need any more words. If he’s wrong about this then he can always back up, but this is what Bakugou needs right now.+
The movements are slow, his hand ghosting over Bakugou’s fist, able to feel the instant softening of his grip accompanied by the relieved sigh leaving his mouth.+
Kirishima’s hand finally slips into his, holding it the same way he did that night, the same amount of pressure with the same squeeze.+
It’s warm.
The hand that he was supposed to hold had held his instead.
The hand that he was supposed to hold had held his instead.
