WHAT IF I'M HIM [Under Revision]

Chapter Twenty-Seven; Eijiro Kirishima

Title: My Stranger

Artists: Egzod X RIELL

Nightcore Channel:  SARCASTIC.

Trigger Warning: Blood and Vomit

Correct me if there are any spelling/grammar mistakes. 

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"Bakugo?"

Bakugo had been sitting and leaning his back against the sink. He shifted his head towards the doorway where he was met with Kirishima who had tired eyes. His hair was frizzy and free from any hair gel. He wore a plain white, sleeveless shirt and a pair of black shorts. As soon as the two boys had made eye contact Kirishima's own eyes widened.

He screeched, "Jesus Christ, Bakugo!" Kirishima rushed over, going down to his knees next to Bakugo. He put a hand on Bakugo's shoulder, his other hand cupped Bakugo's cheek. "What happened?" Bakugo just stared at him with glassy eyes that seemed so empty to Kirishima. Moments would soon pass along and Bakugo's eyes had started to tear. The tears dripped down his face. At first, it was silent, sniffles here and there but not much noise. At a point his shoulders started to shake, moving forward to Kirishima and hiding his face in Kirishima's chest.

Kirishima shifted his arms to wrap them around Bakugo while he sobbed against Kirishima's chest. Kirishima's eyes darted around the room, glancing slightly at the toilet before taking a double-take. In the toilet was a combination of vomit mixed with blood. He quickly averted his gaze attempting to refrain from gagging. "Oh, Bakugo..." Kirishima rested his chin on Bakugo's head and rubbed his back. Bakugo's arms were slack by his side, his sobs were loud and piercing to Kirishima's heart.

Kirishima squeezed, placing a kiss on his head. "I'm here. It's okay." He would whisper over and over.

Bakugo's finger twitched, provoking his whole hand to clench into a fist. He pushed Kirishima off, rotating his entire body, crawling back to the toilet. He coughed up what they both hoped was the last of his stomach. He dry-heaved shortly after bringing nothing but blood. So much blood.

Kirishima rubbed Bakugo's back, shutting his eyes and covering his mouth with his other hand, silently gagging as he smelled the stench of vomit slipping through his fingers. Bakugo cried. Kirishima reached for the small handle and he flushed the toilet. He went behind Bakugo dragging him back a little from the toilet, getting him to rest his back against Kirishima's chest.

"Bakugo," Kirishima put both of his hands on Bakugo's shoulders and slid them down to his torso. "Bakugo," he repeated.

"Clean. Dirty, clean." Bakugo mumbled. "Clean, dirty. Dirty. Widow."

At this point Kirishima was starting to tear up as well, "Bakugo, please I don't understand."

This wasn't the first time Bakugo had mumbled random words in jumbled order to Kirishima. The last time it had happened, the two were in Bakugo's room studying. Bakugo had lost the pen he had just been holding. He was looking everywhere for the pen, he couldn't find it. No matter how many times Kirishima offered his pen, Bakugo wouldn't stop looking, wouldn't stop trashing his own room to find it. The next day the room was spotless as if nothing ever happened.

Bakugo leaned back against Kirishima's chest, "It hurts," he cried. Kirishima rubbed both of Bakugo's arms, up and down. "It hurts. Make it stop." He begged Kirishima desperately.