14 Days | KiriBaku | BakuShima

Day 4

Shuddering breaths escaped him as Kirishima bolted upright, mind full of terror and trepidation, the shadows retreating slightly but still there, haunting him. The feeling was so intense that Kirishima felt like his duvet was suffocating him, enclosing him in a space he couldn't escape, squeezing him like a cobra, so he thrashed about, desperately trying to free him limbs. Barely aware of the river of tears flowing down his face, Kirishima ripped his arm out, then the rest of his body. Unable to breathe, even in his drowsy, nightmare-induced state he lunged for the window, but when his foot hit the ground it sunk into something soft, softer than he had been anticipating.

The thing beneath his foot groan and Kirishima leapt backwards with a cry, imagining the horrors that it could be. It rose, rubbing it's chest with an angry look on it's face. Kirishima was paralysed with fear, his body rigid. He wanted to activate his Quirk, protect himself but it was pointless - his brain wasn't listening to him.

"What the actual fuck, Kirishima?" the thing snapped vexingly, stepping forwards. "It's, like, 4 in the fucking morn-"

It stopped suddenly, and Kirishima took a look at the thing's face. It was familiar, but also not, the mouth wrong and the eyebrows wrong and they weren't infuriated. Kirishima's breaths were shallow, on the verge of a panic attack, and when the person took another step forwards, their whole face was illuminated by the dim moonlight shining through the window. 

It was Bakugo.

"Kirishima, what the fuck-" But he didn't get to finish his sentence because in that moment, Kirishima's body came back under his control, recognising that no physical danger was around and he collapsed into Bakugo's arms, not understanding that this was not what brave, strong, manly Kirishima would do.

But right here, right now, Kirishima wasn't wearing his mask. He was exposed, raw and open, and for this short time he didn't care.

Bakugo, on the other hand, was stiff, bolt upright as his arms hung limply at his sides, feeling Kirishima sob against his chest as the red-head gripped him tighter. There was an odd feeling in his sternum - no his heart - as he felt Kirishima nuzzle into his closer, clearly craving some sort of human contact, so against his better judgement, against every part of his mind screaming no! he brought his arms up, hesitantly resting one around his shoulders and neck and wrapping the other around his waist. It felt so, so intimate, and Bakugo felt the teen sag slightly, his knees giving out with the amount of effort he was putting into crying, so Bakugo pulled him up, arms still around Kirishima and Kirishima's arms still around him, and moved over to the bed, manoeuvring Kirishima so that they were sitting beside each other, the traumatised boy twisted to retain his hug.

It must have been at least half an hour before Kirishima's bawls turned to whimpers, the noises continuing even when it was obvious he was asleep. Even though Kirishima was asleep, even though Bakugo was no longer needed, he didn't want to move. 

Maybe it was the way Kirishima's body perfectly fitted into his, the dip of their chests slotting seamlessly together, or perhaps it was the pounding of Bakugo's heart, threatening that it would burst right out if he were to move. Bakugo didn't usually adhere to threats, so it was probably Bakugo's mind, telling him that this was where he needed to be, right now.

Eventually Bakugo followed suit, falling sideways as he succumbed to sleep.

The sunlight was creeping through the windows when he woke. There was the muffled sound of birdsongs, and the sweet, familiar smell of caramel greeted Kirishima's nose, oddly much more potent than usual. He groaned and mumbled something unintelligible, even to himself, and stretched.

Well, at least he tried to. Instead, one arm felt trapped between something soft and something strong and heavy, and his other was confined by something less heavy, but just as tight. His eyes snapped open, feeling puffy and swollen and slightly sore, and his gaze was met by the sharp, pale, undeniable jawline of Bakugo Katsuki.