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maka-lucy-blog · 7 years

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nightmares

Whoops I completely forgot @kiribakuweek2k17 started yesterday! Well, here’s my submission for day two using the prompt nightmares (because I’m always a sucker for angst and writing one piece about nightmares for bkkweek wasn’t enough for me apparently).

“Kirishima! Kirishima!”

Bakugou tore through the empty halls of U.A., leaping over piles of debris and ducking under fallen beams. The stairwell at the end of the hall had been blasted clean off, leaving a gaping hole that overlooked the school grounds. Water leaked steadily from the floor above, pooling around Bakugou’s ankles. The stench of sweat and blood hung thick in the air, stinging his nose. He had no idea what was going on, but one thing was clear: he had to find Kirishima.

“Kirishima!” he tried again, but there was still no reply. In a fit of frustration, Bakugou drove his fist into the wall, creating a large crater. His knuckles cracked, blood running down his fingers, but he barely felt the pain. “Damn it! Fucking answer me, you shitty-haired bastard!”

Bakugou took off running once more, trying to squash the rising panic in his stomach. Despite the wreckage across campus, he hadn’t encountered a single person. No heroes. No villains. No Kirishima.

The damage all indicated that a major battle had taken place here, yet Bakugou seemed to be the only living thing around for miles. The school was eerily quiet in the aftermath, the silence broken only by Bakugou’s ragged breaths and the splash of water as he crashed through the puddles. Something wasn’t right, but for the life of him, Bakugou couldn’t place his finger on what was making him feel so unsettled.

He whipped around the corner at the end of the hall and stopped. He had been running in circles for what felt like hours. He had searched every inch of this area, and there was no sign of Kirishima anywhere. There was no point in him still being here, yet he continued retracing his steps again and again and again. Why this floor? Why hadn’t he checked a different one or gone out into the grounds? The stairwell may have been demolished, but he could’ve used his Quirk to get to the ground safely. So why hadn’t he?

Bakugou started on his path again when a blood-curling scream cut through the air, piercing Bakugou as though he had been struck by an arrow. He turned slowly towards the source of the sound, his heart plummeting in his chest. He knew that voice. It was his voice, his cry of pain, his call for help. A second scream followed, this one much louder, agonizing and desperate. Bakugou sprinted down the hall, his feet moving before his mind could even process what happened. It can’t be him. Please, don’t let it be him…

Bakugou dashed up the stairs two at a time, too preoccupied with finding his friend to notice that they had been repaired. He didn’t know why he was going up, but instinct told him this was the right way to go. His insides twisted as he neared the top floor, dreading what he may find. Bakugou reached the escape door and burst out onto the roof.

“Kirishima!”

The roof was empty.

Bakugou stepped forward tentatively, on high alert for any sign of another person, friend or foe. His heartbeat drummed mercilessly in his ears. This was where the voice had come from. He was sure of it, yet no one was here. His palms crackled unintentionally due to the sheer amount of sweat covering his body. He moved to wipe them on his pants, but thought better of it. What if a villain came along?

A cool breeze lapped against his face, surprisingly comforting. Bakugou closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. Maybe he had imagined it. He was exhausted; it would make sense if his mind had played a trick on him—

“Bakugou…”

Bakugou’s eyes flew open as he whipped around, seeing nothing but the color red in front of him. He had come to associate the color with only one thing: Kirishima. It was his hair, his eyes, his favorite sweatshirt, his hero costume, his entire freaking dorm room. Such a vibrant red, so uplifting and relentlessly strong.

But that wasn’t the Kirishima standing before him.

The red Bakugou saw wasn’t from any of his favorite features of Kirishima. Rather, it was blood. So much blood. It covered Kirishima from head to toe, staining his tattered clothes and dripping down onto the concrete. Bakugou couldn’t even identify where it was all coming from.

“Baku…” Kirishima staggered forward as his legs gave out from underneath him. Bakugou lunged, catching Kirishima around his middle. The two sunk to the ground, Bakugou cradling his friend as gently as he could. He pressed his trembling fingers against Kirishima’s chest, trying futilely to ebb the flow of blood. Water dripped onto the back of his hand and Bakugou realized he was crying.

“Come on, stay with me, you bastard,” he growled, unable to prevent his voice from shaking. Kirishima’s blood slipped through Bakugou’s fingers and he applied more pressure, gritting his teeth when Kirishima whined from the pain. “Don’t you fucking die on me, all right? Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Katsuki…” whispered Kirishima. The use of his first name caught Bakugou’s attention. He snapped his head up to look at Kirishima. Kirishima smiled weakly and gently traced Bakugou’s cheek and jaw with his finger.

“No,” commanded Bakugou, shaking his head. “No, you don’t get to die. Not now, not like this.”

“I’m…sorry. I crumpled…”

Kirishima’s hand dropped from Bakugou’s face and fell limply at his side. His eyes fluttered close as his head lolled, his body slumped against Bakugou’s chest.

“No…” Bakugou blinked in disbelief as he stared down at his friend’s motionless body. He shook his head, anger coursing through his veins. “No. No! You can’t die! Not you!”

Bakugou clung to Kirishima with all his might, burying his face in the crook of his neck. His body racked with sobs, his fingers clenched onto the back of Kirishima’s tee shirt.

“Not you… Kiri—“ His voice caught and he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Eijirou—come back. Come back, dammit! Eijirou…”

Bakugou opened his eyes to look at Kirishima and found himself back in the halls of the school. He was alone, Kirishima nowhere in sight. His hands, once covered in Kirishima’s blood, were clean. There was no sign of Kirishima anywhere, nor any evidence that Bakugou had held him while he…

Panic twisted Bakugou’s insides to knots. Had none of that been real? He had to know, had to make sure. Kirishima could still be alive and Bakugou could save him this time. He could reach him sooner, protect him. Bakugou wouldn’t let him die. Not again. Not for real. He took off running down the empty hall.

“Kirishima! Kirishima!”

“Bakugou! Bakugou!”

Kirishima crouched over his friend, feeling completely useless. Bakugou cowered on the ground, curled into a ball. His hands yanked at his hair and he squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. His entire body trembled violently as he yelled out in pain. Kirishima shook him, trying to rouse him, but it had no effect.

“Come on, dude, snap out of it!” shouted Kirishima. “Bakugou!”

He had no idea what happened. One minute, they were fighting what had seemed to be a simply street thug, and the next thing Kirishima knew, Bakugou was down. No blood, no loud bangs or flashes of light. A simple touch of Bakugou’s shoulder and he was reduced to this state. Kirishima had no hope of reversing Bakugou’s condition if he couldn’t figure out what caused it in the first place.

A snide chuckle echoed behind Kirishima. He whipped around, baring his teeth. Out of pure instinct, he activated his Quirk, prepared to protect Bakugou at any cost.

The villain ambled out of the shadows, taunting Kirishima with a twisted sneer. “Well, he went down faster than expected.”

“What the hell did you do to him?” growled Kirishima. Behind him, Bakugou let out another strangled scream and it took all of Kirishima’s willpower not to check on him. This villain was fast; if he let his guard down for even a second, he’d likely face the same fate as Bakugou. As things stood now, Kirishima was Bakugou’s only chance of getting out of here. He couldn’t let him down.

“I simply used my Quirk,” the villain replied lazily, as though he were bored by the situation. “One touch and I induce a never-ending cycle of nightmares. Looks like your friend over there is trapped in something nasty, wouldn’t you say?”

“Bastard,” Kirishima spat. He hardened more of skin, turning his hands deadly sharp.

He couldn’t fight full out if he had to worry about Bakugou getting caught in the middle. His best bet would be to draw the villain away and put some space between them. Once he subdued the villain, he’d get him to free Bakugou from the nightmares. He glanced back at his friend. Bakugou was drenched in sweat, his hair matted against his forehead. His palms crackled dangerously, and Kirishima worried that he would hurt himself.

“Better pay attention!” the villain cackled. Kirishima turned back just in time to see the villain launch himself towards Kirishima, extending his palm towards Kirishima’s face. Kirishima threw his arm up to block and the villain seized his forearm. Kirishima hardened his other arm and swung his elbow into the man’s cheek. He howled and let go.

Don’t worry, Bakugou. I’ll come back for you.

Kirishima sprinted in the other direction, glad when the villain took up the chase. He wondered whether the villain had used his Quirk or if it had been a feint. Bakugou had dropped instantly when touched by the villain, so why hadn’t he? He touched Kirishima; that should have been enough. Yet Kirishima felt no change. What was different?

He needs skin on skin contact, Kirishima thought, the idea striking him suddenly. Bakugou’s shoulder was left exposed by his hero costume, whereas Kirishima’s arm was protected by his sleeve. As long as he kept his face and chest out of the villain’s reach, he should be able to win.

Kirishima took the stairs up to the second floor of the warehouse and hid behind a beam, waiting for the villain to catch up. A long, jagged piece of metal sat on the floor nearby. Kirishima picked it up, figuring it would come in handy to help keep his distance.

The villain’s footsteps filled the room as he crossed to the center, searching for Kirishima. The young hero slowed his breathing and focused on the task at hand. He couldn’t let his adrenaline take over, otherwise his actions would become sloppy and frantic.

The villain drew near and Kirishima tightened his grip on the fragment. Just before the villain came around the pole, Kirishima leapt out and swung the metal around. The villain ducked and the shard lodged itself in the beam. Kirishima yanked on it, but it refused to budge. Kirishima swore as he dodged a blow from the villain. He lashed out with his foot and kicked the villain in the chest. The man grabbed onto Kirishima’s leg and the two fell together. Kirishima scrambled to his feet, but the villain clung onto his ankle, bringing Kirishima down hard. His head collided with the ground and stars danced in front of his eyes. Kirishima tried to steady himself, but the room swam in his vision. Something warm ran down his cheek. He wiped his forehead, his palm turning red with blood.

The villain clawed at Kirishima’s legs, trying desperately to make contact with his exposed torso. Kirishima kicked mercilessly, twisting his lower half to escape the man’s grip. He managed to free one of his legs and stomped on the villain’s hand.

The villain howled and let go of Kirishima’s other leg. Kirishima quickly stood and before the villain could do the same, he hardened his fist and punched the villain across the jaw with immense force. The man’s head snapped to the side. His body collapsed against the ground and did not move again.

Kirishima backed up against the beam and slid to the ground, his chest heaving. He watched the villain carefully, eyes narrowed in dislike. He was still breathing, but the blow was strong enough to knock him out for a couple hours at least. Kirishima touched his forehead gingerly, wincing when he found the long gash. It would probably need stitches.

A large explosion went off downstairs and Kirishima started. His heartbeat quickened, but before he could say anything, a muffled voice cut him off.

“Kirishima? Kirishima!”

Kirishima bolted upright. Bakugou. He had woken up. Taking out the villain must have been enough to cancel out the effects of his Quirk.

“I’m up here!” Kirishima yelled back, already starting for the stairs. He tore off his mask as he ran, suddenly feeling too constricted by it. He raced down the steps as fast as he could, leaping over the last couple.

Bakugou stood where Kirishima had last left him, alarmingly pale and covered in sweat, but otherwise unharmed. His gauntlets lay discarded off to the side, one of them in pieces. Bakugou staggered towards Kirishima, who hurried forward to meet him.

“I’m glad—”

Bakugou cut Kirishima off by pulling him into a tight hug. Kirishima froze, not used to this kind of gesture from Bakugou. Bakugou clung to him, his nails digging against Kirishima’s back. Kirishima quickly wrapped his arms around Bakugou, holding him close. The nightmares must have been worse than Kirishima expected if Bakugou was this rattled by them.

“What did you see?” asked Kirishima softly, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer.

Bakugou just shook his head and tightened his grip, pressing his face against Kirishima’s shoulder. His muscles trembled and Kirishima thought he might be crying, but had better sense than to say anything. He simply held Bakugou, putting all of his unspoken reassurances and promises into the touch. He tangled his fingers in Bakugou’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s all over now. We’re okay.”

#krbkweek #kiribaku #bakushima #katsuki bakugou #kirishima eijirou #bnha #bnha fic #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #my writing #fanfic #tw: blood #I have a million and one nightmare related ideas I could write about #these poor boys have been through so much already and it's only their first year #like just let them be happy and have a break #makalucyfic

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