What the fuck am I doing? Katsuki was thinking the entire time he was dressing dumbass Kirishima's wound.

He hadn't seen this fucker in years, had refused to let himself think about him and what he'd done in all that time, was finally starting to get the fuck over it—the betrayal and the... the losing him—and now this asshole was suddenly at his house, bleeding on his floor and looking like death was on his freakin' doorstep (well, not really, but he was white as a fucking ghost).

The wound turned out to be a relatively deep cut from a knife, spanning from the center of his chest up to his shoulder.

"This'll need stitches," Bakugou muttered, dabbing as gently as he could at the wound as Kirishima winced—again. "You really should go—"

"C'mon, man," Kirishima panted, "I already told you I can't..."

"Why the hell not?" Bakugou growled, tossing yet another blood-soaked piece of gauze into the trashcan before ripping off another and soaking it in peroxide.

"...'s a long story," he murmured. "I'm sorry... for imposing on you."

"Shut up. I didn't have to help you, so 's not your fault."

"I know, but—"

"Lucky for you, I know how to do stitches, but unfortunately you're gonna feel everything because I can't numb you up beforehand."

"It's alright, I appreciate it," Kirishima said, providing a weak smile.

"Yeah. Sit still, I'll be right back."

He tossed the last bandage in the trash, gave the idiot another to press over the wound to staunch the bleeding, and retreated out of the room.

Fuck, was he an idiot? Seriously—why was he helping someone he knew had a villainous history? Why the fuck was he helping Kirishima, who he had a fucking history with?! What kind of fucked up shit was the universe trying to get him into, making him run into him like that—literally?! It had to be a fucking joke. He never should've brought this idiot to his house, let alone patched up his shitty wound (that he still hadn't bothered to ask Shitty Hair... whose hair wasn't so shitty anymore, in comparison to back then... how he got the stupid wound in the first place) and decide to stitch it up...

Bakugou had to shove those thoughts aside for the time being and focus on the task at hand. He'd stitch up the stupid wound, ensure Kirishima wasn't going to pass out or fucking die on his floor, and then ask questions.

Needle. Thread. Rubbing alcohol to sterilize. A steady hand to thread the needle. Bakugou wouldn't allow himself to think of anything but what was in front of him, and he refused to fuck this up.

Something about putting the stitches in made his stomach churn—probably the tugging of the skin and the blood trickling down Kirishima's bare chest—but he kept going until he reached the end of the wound so he could snip the end off.

"Thank you," he murmured, head still turned away. Surprisingly enough he didn't make a sound as Bakugou did the stitching, but his skin had become so pale it was practically translucent. His lips were white, his eyes half-vacant.

"You need to eat something," Bakugou mumbled, swiping up the scraps of bandages to throw them away and then gathering the rest of the medical supplies he needed to tape a piece of gauze over the stitched wound.

"Naw, I don't feel hungry..." Kirishima murmured in almost a slur while the last piece of tape was being applied to the bandage.

Bakugou's gaze flicked up to the other's face just in time go see his eyes go unfocused, vacant, right before his whole figure slumped forward, unconscious. Instinctually Bakugou caught him by the shoulders, leaving Kirishima's messy head of hair to fall mop-like onto his own shoulder.

"...are you fucking kidding me?" Bakugou grumbled.

~

The whole time Bakugou shuffled about his kitchen making food while there was a dumbass passed out on his couch, he fought with himself.

I should just take him to the damn police. Or the hospital, and let them deal with him.

He was passed out now, after all, so he couldn't fight. Sure, he might wake up on the way there but he was weak enough from blood loss that the odds of him getting the better of Bakugou were slim. Besides, being one of the top heroes, who the fuck knew what kind of shit he was getting himself into, harboring a villain in his house?!

But... was Kirishima a villain? He sure as hell didn't look like one, especially not with how relaxed and vulnerable he was as he slept—or whatever—on the couch. He looked... more like his old self, actually. The Kirishima Bakugou knew before the whole traitor thing happened way back when—the thing Bakugou was doing his best to fucking forget until the dumbass practically bulldozed his way back into his life. He looked soft. Young. Innocent. Maybe even a little scared, before he passed out.

Don't be a dumbass! He's the reason you were kidnapped by the villains back in year one!

It was an empty internal scold, and Bakugou knew that right away. Once he'd gotten over that incident as a whole, he'd pushed the thought of Kirishima away no matter what. Buried them, and any shitty feelings that came along with them, so not even he knew how the hell he felt about the lump of a human on his couch...

As expected, the smell of the food was what coaxed Kirishima back to the world. His hissing in pain alerted Bakugou to it, and it was just in time for him to fill the plate with the curry rice and take it to the other. Without a word, he thrust the plate in the other's direction.

Kirishima's eyes, still glossy from blood loss as they lifted up to the plate. "Huh...?" he mumbled.

"Fucking eat," Bakugou ordered. "You passed out 'cause you lost so much blood so food'll help. You're welcome."

"You don't h—"

"Shut the fuck up and take it," Bakugou growled, holding the damn plate out further.

Shakily, Kirishima accepted the plate and lowered it into his lap. "Thank you," he murmured.

"Whatever. You're cleaning up your own dishes," Bakugou muttered, already halfway back to the kitchen to make his own plate. He added extra cumin and chili powder to his curry before heading back to the living room and plopping down on the couch at the opposite end from the other, leaning back and propping his feet up on the coffee table before he dug in.

"So who the fuck attacked you anyway?" he asked, refusing to let the silence get awkward.

"I'm not really sure," Kirishima said, eating slowly. "It was someone I didn't recognize, but uh... they were definitely a villain."

"And?" prompted Bakugou. "What happened?"

"So... y'know that building blew up."

"Obviously."

"I guess I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, y'know? I think there was a small group of villains planning a terrorist attack on that place. It was some sort of headquarters, right?"

"No," Bakugou murmured. "It was a hero agency. A new one. Just opened a couple months ago."

Kirishima's shoulders visibly slumped. "...I guess that makes sense," he said softly. "With how much they hate heroes..."

Bakugou glanced up from his food for a moment, eyes narrow. They, as if Kirishima wasn't one of them, wasn't a villain. And he still didn't look like one. He just looked... tired and afraid as he picked away at his meal.

"So? Go on," Bakugou prompted.

"Oh, right." Kirishima cleared his throat. "I was just trying to find a place to crash for the night, wandering around to find somewhere safe, and suddenly I was being grabbed from behind. I managed to struggle my way out of it, but not before I got this nasty cut. It was only a couple minutes later when the explosion happened. I don't know if they're connected or what, but I guess I can consider myself lucky because people were too distracted by all the smoke and everything to notice me trying to get away, since the person who attacked me fled when the building fell."

"So what, it was just some random ass attack?"

Kirishima pushed his food around a bit before answering. "Guess so," he said. "I think they mistook me for someone else." He wedged his spoon under his rice and looked up; for once his gaze met Bakugou's straight on. "I swear I'm not with the villains anymore, Bakugou. I broke off over a year ago. I've just been trying to find a way to live all this time, to get better, make up for what I've done even if I can't be a hero anymore. I don't want anything to do with them. Hell, I probably want them stopped more than you do."

Bakugou, too, paused in eating. Part of him was still trying to wrap his head around all of this—the fact that none other than Kirishima Eijirou was sitting on his couch eating his curry rice, looking pale and worse for ware, but so similar yet so different than the Kirishima he remembered, the one he loved, from back then.

If there was one thing that never changed, though, it was his eyes. Sure, they were darker and held so much more baggage than they had before, but their expressiveness had anything but faded—at least not to Bakugou, who'd long ago learned how to read them. And while he looked uneasy, almost timid, and unsure, there wasn't a speck of deception within those expansive crimson irises. He was just tired.

Bakugou wasn't sure he'd ever related to something more in his life.

"Hmph," he grunted, turning his attention back to his food. "I dunno about that."

He felt Kirishima's grin, small as it was, more than he saw it. "We can bet on it," he said before he, too, returned to his meal. "And I know I said this already, but thank you, man. Seriously."

"Just shut up and eat," Bakugou muttered.

"Aye aye..."

~

Needless to say, Bakugou let Kirishima crash on his couch that night. It was easy to deflect any questions that came his way with petty lies, and while he didn't feel great about it, something he couldn't quite pinpoint kept him there with Kirishima, refused to let him turn him in or admit what he was doing or even harbor a sliver of anger for the one whose bandage he replaced three times the next day and continued to feed and hide away from anyone who might come looking for him.

It wasn't exactly like the law was specifically after Kirishima, but with his background of being associated with villains—the League of Villains, no less—there was no way he wouldn't be taken into custody on the spot, especially after the attack on the new headquarters. Hell, that's what Bakugou should've done as soon as he ran into the dumbass. At least, that's what anyone else would've wanted him to do.

But no. He brought him back to his own damn house, stitched his wound, fed him, gave him a place to stay. He was essentially harboring a fugitive. As one of the current top active heroes, he was pretty sure he was actually the dumbass.

But not even that pushed him to turn Kirishima in, even if he couldn't piece together why. Okay, yeah, so they had a... 'thing' in the past and yeah, it'd taken a painfully long amount of time for Bakugou to get over it, but that was in the past. So much had changed since then, and especially after what ended their thing in the first place, he shouldn't be doing this. It was fucking idiotic, and Bakugou Katsuki swore he was anything but an idiot.

All of that bullshit had to be beside the point, though, and Bakugou did one thing he'd always been good at—pushed the thought, the feeling about Kirishima, away and ignored it no matter how much it nagged at him from the back of his mind. He needed to figure out what the hell his plan was to get the idiot back on his feet so he could get back to his own boring ass life and pretend like it never happened. Fun.

---

unedited bc i'm lazy. lemme know if you find any mistakes~