3 am || KiriBaku ||

3:20

3:20

is when Kirishima nurtures enough comprehensible thought to speak.

"So, why did you want to come here then?" The question feels cold off his lips, but it's ground out through sandpaper lining his throat to instead sound brittle and raw.

"Couldn't sleep."

"Same here." It's a lie. If he didn't don some godforsaken need to grasp at Katsuki, to know every last synapse of thought running through his head, he'd be asleep right now, smudging hours away into the feeble backdrop of vacant dreams.

He barely dreams but when he does it's more comparable to watching a reel of memories, ones of when he was a child and laughter never had to be frothed out through rusted clockwork. Like China refusing to be pieced back together, he always wakes before they become completely tangible and resorts to rubbing his eyes to blur it all out again.

Repeatedly he tries to lock away those still frames that breathe with ease. It scares him that if he does, the cracks will be traced by the pads of his fingers, cut the soft skin, watch the regret bubble over the wound's surface .

It scares him, that view of the stretching track that his legs try to carry him down, witnessing not a golden line but the starting marks he'd sworn he'd passed. Maybe he's started too fast too soon, it's hard to tell how much longer he can bear this pace.

Coward. The plague of these thoughts pushes him further than ever away from being a man. He wants to be a hero, the need to save people pools like an unquenchable thirst, but there's so much death murmuring a mocking mantra and he never manages to save enough to make up for it. It feels better to let the guilty thoughts rot and grow on his tongue. His teeth feel dirty and can only tighten the set of his jaw to grind them into tiny splinters to stop them from stretching his mouth open.

"You know," Katsuki starts and the rasp of his voice startles Kirishima's attention, "Sometimes I try to see how long I can hold my breath."

A smile almost cracks Kirishima's lips. They would do that at the pool sometimes, with Sero and Mina, Denki timing them. Of course Katsuki always won.

"Apparently you can't suffocate yourself because your body's instinct tries to stop you from dying. It's proven you can easily rip off someone's ear at your own will but it's impossible to rip your own off. And it's why we don't react when we try to tickle ourselves-- our brain knows it's gonna stop us from killing ourselves so there's no point in feeling ticklish."

"I guess." Kirishima doesn't understand where he's going with this, but he misses that voice and it fits an aperture somewhere in him and so listens more than willingly to the rambling.

"It's really fucking ironic though." Katsuki laughs but it's thick with force and painfully bitter, "like your brain, it does all this shit to make sure you don't die and yet it's that same stupid piece of shit in my head that won't shut up. All day, on and on, it's worse than Deku for chrissakes. Fuck, it drives me mad enough to just..." the words trail to hang off without closure.

As much as wants to offer condolence, Kirishima still can't think of anything to say but he's out of the sheets at this point, legs having accommodated to dangling off the ledge of the bed with a heightened need to be drawn in.

"Everything I do," he starts again but the words are incredulously frail, tremors running through them, "feels like it's for nothing. The more I try, the further they seem to get"—Izuku, Shoto, Toshinori—"and I feel like I'm better than them. I can feel it in myself,  in my blood, when I fight" his fists clench, knuckles white, "I know I'm better than them...but I don't know. Everyone seems to look at him, pick him up like he's some broken-ass raggedy Anne doll because he's their hero, they're already all watching him. And I'm just here like 'hello' you know, like, 'I'm here too, I've fucking been here all along too'.

"Last week I was showing All Might my AP shot, and days before I'd done in front of Aizawa and it blasted through at least 30 metres of rock. It was great, even though Aizawa said I could do better but that asshat is never happy. But when I did it in front of All Might, my hands went numb and this pain shot through my entire left arm and I felt like the whole thing was just gonna rip off, but I still did it, only this time I only managed to cut through 20 metres.

"I would have done it again but I swear my bones were about to shatter, so I told him 'my arm's being funny but I can do better', 'this is nothing'. He gave me that look, you know it, the one he always gives me, as if he's feeling sorry. I hate that look. He was like 'Oh young Bakugo,' in that voice he always makes, 'don't be so hard on yourself, that was already impressive'. That voice, you know the one, where you know he thinks it's shit compared to what he shows him but he's All Might and he wants you to think you can be the next big shit. I wanted to tell him to shut up, but my arm hurt so much so I just left. He probably thinks I'm a sore loser, can't take on the pressure of being a hero, not like Deku can.

"I think he hates me. I don't care, I don't think so -- not anymore. It wasn't the pain--I'm not a pussy-- it's more that I felt so much weaker than I had with Aizawa. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I keep feeling weaker, like my body's giving up on me even though I'm still alright. And then my brain hurts too. Shit keeps reminding me of the 30 metres I could cut in front of Aizawa and the fact that I can't do it anymore. The fact he thinks I can do better but I can't. And I'm just like, 'fuck you brain'. 'Fuck you arms'. I thought you were meant to be on my side."

When Katsuki finally spits out the last sentence, he lifts his head up and Kirishima wants to cry.