BNHA Oneshots

☁ - Little Unsteady - Kiribaku

Yes, I know this is supposed to be a one shot book. Yes, I know this is the 3rd Kiribaku story. No, I don't care.
Warnings: sad Bakugou, cursing

It had been decided; on Friday night, the entirety of 1-A was going to sleep in the common room. The entirety of 1-A, that is, save for Bakugou.

The temperamental ash blond had way more important things to do than go to a sleepover with his classmates. For example, sleep. He knew there would be no sleeping involved if the girls had anything to say about it. He also knew for a fact that they were going to play countless games. Truth or Dare would definitely be one of those games, and he was not in the mood to deal with his prying classmates. Honestly, was he ever?

Kirishima, of course, had been reasonably upset when he learned Bakugou planned on shutting himself in his room instead of attending. In the past, the ash blond had a tendency to agree when it was Kirishima on the opposite side of the question. Why would now be any different?

So, he went in the elevator, ascending the levels until he reached the floor he shared with Bakugou and Shouji, who, might he had, was going to the sleepover. Shouji never hung out with the rest of the class! Even Tokoyami would be there. Why was Bakugou so adamant about staying in his room?

The redhead knocked on his door. He clasped his hands behind his back and bounced on the balls of his feet as he waited for the door to open. His thoughts turned to the sleepover. Knowing the girls, they were going to play games. Definitely Truth or Dare.

The door remained shut. Kirishima shifted uneasily. Was Bakugou asleep? He checked his watch. No, it was only 19:46. Bakugou wouldn't be sleeping this early. Was he just avoiding Kirishima? That couldn't be it... Kirishima knew it was selfish to think so, but weren't the two of them best friends? The ash blond tutored him, and—according to Midoriya—saw only him as an equal. That had to amount to some level of friendship.

Kirishima was about to turn and leave when the door swung open. Standing there, clad in a black tank top and black sweatpants, was Bakugou. His face seemed paler than usual. The redhead blinked. Was he okay?

"What do you want, Kirishima?" rasped the ash blond. His grip on the door handle was so tight his knuckles were turning white. Kirishima... not any of his weird nicknames.

Kirishima was temped to ask Bakugou if he was okay, but he was worried about how he would take it. Bakugou hated being looked down on. He saw concern as pity. It wasn't an admirable trait, if Kirishima was being honest, but the redhead wasn't about to tell Bakugou to change that about himself. Being the true you was the manliest thing you could do.

"Um," he blanked, "are you okay?" Kirishima immediately cringed, expecting to get punched in the throat, but nothing happened. Well, nothing bad.

Bakugou abruptly grabbed Kirishima by the arm and tugged him inside of his dorm, kicking the door shut in a silent rage. The redhead blinked again. Bakugou was rarely silent. Something was definitely wrong.

"My—" The ash blond faltered. He slammed his fist on the wall, choking out hoarse curses. Kirishima walked over to him, hesitantly resting his hand on his shoulder. Bakugou tensed, but he made no move to push him away. "My old man was in a car crash," he muttered after a minute's silence.

"Oh no, is he alright?" gasped Kirishima. He suddenly felt very bad for coming up here just to demand Bakugou's presence at the sleepover.

He slowly shook his head. "He's, uh, unconscious. They... don't know when he'll wake up." Bakugou swallowed thickly. Kirishima noticed his use of when. Not if.

"Bakugou, I'm so sorry. I had no idea," Kirishima murmured. Bakugou recoiled, as if he had just been struck by a white-hot whip.

"I don't need your damn pity!" barked the ash blond. "I don't—..." His voice cut off again. "Fuck!" Bakugou squeezed his fists and glared at the ground.

Kirishima couldn't bear to see his friend in so much pain. So, he did the unthinkable: Kirishima leaned over and wrapped his arms around Bakugou tightly. He froze, his hands splaying out on Kirishima's shoulders, about to push him away, when he relaxed. Bakugou buried his face in Kirishima's shoulder, arms coming up to grip the back of his shirt.

Sadly, Kirishima realized he was using him as an anchor. His poor friend. Bakugou was so used to independence, he never shared his feelings with anyone. He just... bottled them up inside and let them fester and decay. That wasn't healthy. Not at all. Right then and there, Kirishima swore to himself that he would always be an anchor for Bakugou.

He would be his rock.