Long Time Coming

Fragile Target

He watched from the bench as Bakugou leapt over the obstacle, rounding the course with his quirk to improve the sharpness of his turn. Kirishima felt his fist harden as it clenched.

He was too slow.

Eijirou looked down, releasing the muscles with conscious effort. Ever since Kamino Bakugou had been different; had been training non stop, working non stop. Even when he was hanging out with everyone he was far away; his comments missing their biting sting that - oddly - Kirishima missed. He wanted to hear that sharp tone, the rude insults. They were just Bakugou. This quiet, dwelling, subdued creature was not. And it put him on edge. Bakugou crossed the finish line, panting, hands on his hips as he doubled over. Bakugou straightened and growled, grabbing a towel to wipe his face and neck before throwing himself beside Kirishima, his face twisted into a look of disappointment.

He knows. Kirishima bit his lip, looking down at the stop watch before clearing it. 2.78 seconds slower.

He frowned, setting the thing aside and taking a drink. He wanted to ask. He wanted to be... there. He wanted- he shook his head subtly. It didn't matter what he wanted. He was lucky to be friends with someone like Bakugou and if his explosive peer needed him he would be available for him. Kirishima knew that they had something unique purely in the fact that no one else was allowed these moment with Bakugou, no one else had the gift of those odd vulnerable moments, the emotionally charged angry rages, the explosive self-hate. But did that mean Kirishima could dare to delve further into the enigma of emotion that was Bakugou? Desperately Kirishima wanted to help. His hand tightened around his water bottle.

But do I have the right to ask? He took a drink.

"Your turn." Bakugou stretched a hand out, his fingers opening and closing around the air.

"A-ah!" Kirishima smiled, standing and dropping the watch in Bakugou's hand. He ignored the jolt of awareness that swept through his body when their fingers brushed. He pulled his hand back quickly, stumbling to the starting line. "I'm bad at this kinda thing so-"

"The fuck you are." Bakugou growled. "You saw my time." His head dropped, his mass of hair blocking his face. "Even Mineta could beat that."

Kirishima wasn't sure what to say. He balked at the line, then turned towards Bakugou, paused again.

Was that an opening? Should I take it? Is it my place? Could he really ask about such personal things? It was different if he had caused the problem; like he had a few nights ago. It was different when he was a source of hurt. But this was like... prying. Wasn't it?

"Go."

Kirishima had made up his mind, his heel driving into the track, digging it up as his feet devoured the distance.

First curve . He leapt into it, digging his hardened fingers into the ground, letting his legs slide around the corner, his sneakers catching and skidding on the soft ground.

Obstacle. With gritted teeth he launched himself into the air, clearing all four completely for the first time.

I'll do it. He swore, his shirt flapping against his thigh from where it was tucked into his back pocket. I'll earn the right to ask you about it. All of it. I'll make you see that I am strong enough to share all your troubles the only way that you will accept!

He hardened his calves, using the strength to launch himself halfway over the wall; scrambling over the rest with hardened fingers digging into the surface. He fell without grace over the opposite side, landing on his feet and launching into a sprint again.