bnha oneshots (vol 1)

022 ⋆ the fire to his flame 🌸🖤

ship: kiribaku

other: a collaboration between me and my dear friend @FictionTrip on Twitter

⋆

Orange.

Such a pretty color it is. It burns brightest in the midst of the sun's rise and set, painting the sky in its vivacious brilliance. For Eijirou, though, it's more than just a color to him. It's that same sky when he walks the path to the train station after school; the flowers that sprout through the cracks in the sidewalk; the crisp autumn leaves descending to the ground; the sweetest of fruits baring its nectar to him. It became a gradient of his soul, deeply entangled with his deep crimson; warm hands, clammy from nerves, but skin soft as rose petals.

Oh, how he wished they'd have more time than what's been given to them--less than five minutes to whisper to each other, finding meaning in them before their last breath slipped through parted lips.

Eijirou pants hard into the scarf pressed to his nose and mouth, vaguely filtering out the thick smoke bleeding through the city and the bright orange that stained the skies. His clothes cling to him in a desperate hug; his shoes are untied, but he ignores the laces thrashing about as he nears his high school. Outside is peak chaos, but the halls are quiet with murmurs of a tomorrow he wouldn't live to see. He lets his scarf fall from his face, tasting the air. His throat still burns from earlier, but it's okay here.

His sneakers squeak against the linoleum as he makes his way toward the staircase, climbing them two at a time until he reaches the doors to the rooftop. He breaches them, and tainted air claws its way into his lungs again. Coughing harshly, he brings his scarf back to his nose and moves to the fences guarding the edge of the building. His free hand palms the railing, already warm to the touch, but not because of the ever-burning sun--no.

Oh, orange.

How pretty it is.

Even as the flames of its brilliance brings the tallest building to its knees, it's still so, so pretty. The sky is a hazy rendition of it, billows of smoke pouring unto it like winter frost on cold glass. How cruel the color orange could be, forceful and domineering. It's "out there", some would say--loud and brash. Unpredictable. Self-indulgent, even, but that's why Eijirou loves that color so. It knows what it wants and takes risks to get there, caring in its own pitiful way, and warm at its core. It's praises whispered where no one else could hear, lingering gazes whilst no one looks; shouts turned gentle coos in the latter hours and a groggy voice at the earliest. It's the scent of burnt caramel on a hot day and gentle pine on the coldest.

It's Katsuki Bakugou, the orange to his red. The moon to his sun.

Eijirou casts his gaze low on the horizon and waits.

•••

Red.

As if the sky wasn't already hurting his eyes from the lingering smoke and debris, Katsuki rubbed his eyes to the point of tears. As the fires spread, stretching it's blazing arms from one hallway to another, Katsuki didn't seem to mind the rising heat.

He didn't seem to be in too much of a hurry to get from one place to another, seeing as he was walking in the opposite direction than the stragglers stuck on the third floor. His shoulder nudged a frightened student, but his demeanour stayed stoic. The small glimpse he gave to the hall of windows- the roaring red that burned his eyes like the sun on a bright day- only reminded him of his destination. Like a fire, he was waiting for him to jump into his arms. He was waiting to feel that warm embrace forever. He was waiting.

Is this what it looked like from down here? Is this what Katsuki had been missing all those years; up in the air, looking down from a higher angle? He never realized how beautiful it truly was. An impenetrable fortress of primary colors had engulfed the school, and the explosive blonde couldn't do anything more than...smile. Katsuki grinned softly to himself, the slightest movements forcing a hold on his esophagus. He could start to feel his lungs blackening from the inhalation of ash.

The pain in his chest slowed him down as he began to climb the steps to the roof. Breathing became labored and heavy. If he didn't get moving, the carbon dioxide would get to him first.

But his legs felt as though he was carrying cinder blocks, and the grip he had on the railing would have broken an arm from how tight his fingers wrapped around the heated metal. It reminded him of the day he needed help getting home after a workout.

As if by instinct, Katsuki rose his arm to wrap around shoulders that were invisible to anyone else. He needed to make it up these damn steps. He needed to see him one last time.

'Move, damn it', Katsuki willed himself up another step. 'Almost there', he willed himself up another.

A few more steps and he was standing mere feet from Eijirou. The sight of his back gave him enough strength to stand up tall and quicken his pace.

"Eijirou."

That was all Katsuki said as he grabbed him by the hand to turn him around, wrapping one arm around his shoulders, while the other snaked around his wait. He ran his fingers through the red hair he'd fallen hopelessly in love with no more than three years ago, as if he were running them through the fire itself.

The comfort and relief Eijirou brought to his state of mind, just seeing him stand there in beautiful, fiery bliss- it calmed Katsuki, even if just for these last moments.

Even if just for the last time he'll get to hear Eijirou's voice; feel his touch. Hold his hand and kiss his lips.

In that moment, he could hardly feel the ground underneath them start to cave in on itself. He was with the only person he needed.

He was safe.