Just know that I'm an awful person who does terrible things to the characters I love.

---

Kirishima ended up staying with Bakugou for a couple of days after that. After learning what he had, and so suddenly, it felt weird—almost wrong—to leave Bakugou alone. And, as Kirishima usually was, he was honest about this when confronted about it the following morning.

"The fuck? You stayed?" Bakugou had mumbled in a sleepy manner when he'd finally peeled his eyes open midway through the morning; Kirishima had already been awake for an hour or so, content being occupied by his phone until the other awoke.

"Yup," Kirishima responded. "Morning."

Bakugou sat up, rubbing at an eye with the heel of his hand. "Why?"

"'Cause. I dunno. It didn't feel right to leave you after everything I found out yesterday. Plus it was late, and I'm pretty sure by the time I realized what time it was the last bus had already left, and I didn't really feel like walking five miles at midnight." Kirishima punctuated the statement with a small laugh. "But don't worry, I didn't raid your fridge or anything."

"Hmph... you're fuckin' weird..." Bakugou mumbled through a yawn.

That was all he said about the subject for most of the day until it was nearly dinner time and they'd already binged through the rest of Stranger Things and made it six or seven hours into a run through Borderlands. "So are you stayin' again or what?"

"Mm, I dunno. Do you want me to?" Kirishima had asked.

"Don't know. Don't care, I guess. But we basically just started this game and we're in the middle of shit..."

To that, Kirishima chuckled. "If you want me to stay, all ya gotta do is say so. But if I do, I should probably go home and grab some stuff first, since I already slept in these clothes and all that."

"Sure. Whatever."

Kirishima couldn't say he was all that surprised when Bakugou tagged along with him back to his own apartment. The walks and the bus rides were filled with their usual conversation—about the comics, about Kirishima's art, a few things about how the end of the semester had gone for him. And though Kirishima hadn't stopped thinking about Bakugou being sick since the second he found out, he was glad that, despite now knowing the truth behind so much about Bakugou he hadn't understood before, their conversations remained normal; if anything, they were closer as friends. (And if Kirishima was being honest—and he usually was—he'd say their relationship ran deeper than even that, though he couldn't fully be sure that wasn't just his silly crush filtering his view of things.)

The only evidence of the previous day's snow were the wet sidewalks, and the clouds that made them that way had departed, leaving the sky big and bright and blue again. The air remained chilly, though, and from the walk between bus stops and apartments, it was easy for Kirishima to see how greatly the cold affected Bakugou as he kept his shaking shoulders hunched and his jaw clenched the entire time.

Kirishima brushed off all of the teasing jokes from his roommates when he told them he was only there to grab a few things before going back to Bakugou's.

As the two of them were jogging back down the stairs he said, "Hey, wanna stop at the grocery store real quick and grab some snacks and stuff?"

"Don't have money to pay for it with," Bakugou responded stiffly. "I only get checks once a month."

"Don't worry about it, man. I've got us covered."

Bakugou responded with one of his classic huffs but argued no further, so Kirishima led him off the bus a few stops too soon to head into a nearby grocery store where they gathered up a few things to take back. As they were finished checking out, Kirishima had gathered all of the bags in his hands and was getting ready to head toward the door when Bakugou yanked on his wrist.

"The fuck are you doing?"

"Whattaya mean?" Kirishima asked, blinking at him in confusion.

"Who the fuck said you had to carry all of the shit? Gimme some of it."

"'S cool, Bakugou. I got it," Kirishima insisted.

"How many fucking times do I gotta tell you I'm not fucking helpless? I'm weak, but I'm not that fuckin' weak. How do you think I get my own shit home?"

Frowning, Kirishima mumbled, "That's not..." The confusion dissipated as quickly as it had settled in and his face relaxed again. "Oh, you think I wanted to carry it all 'cause you're sick."

"Why the fuck else would you?" hissed the blonde.

"'Cause I'm used to it," Kirishima said with a casual shrug.

Bakugou clicked his tongue and started to pry a few of the bags from Kirishima's fingers. "Stop being such a fucking gentleman. You're makin' me sick," he grumbled as he brushed past the redhead toward the door.

"Sorry, dude," Kirishima chuckled. "It's in my nature."

"Well I'm not crippled yet, so lemme get this shit sometimes."

"Aye aye," Kirishima said.

It wasn't until they were nearly back to Bakugou's place that the real reason Bakugou had been so adamant about carrying some of the groceries hit Kirishima, and as soon as the realization was there, his stomach tightened. Words from yesterday resurfaced in his memory:

"...there's no point trying to be my stupid friend 'cause I'll just be a burden."

"...'cause you don't wanna deal with someone who's a fucking burden."

Oh.

"Yo, Bakugou? You mind carrying one more of these bags? My fingers are starting to hurt."

Wordlessly, Bakugou turned and slipped his fingers—freezing fingers, Kirishima noticed when their skin brushed—through a couple of the handles to take another bag. It hadn't been a lie; Kirishima's fingers were getting sore, but it wasn't something he'd normally complain about. He wasn't about to let Bakugou start thinking he thought of him as a burden over something as silly as grocery bags.

After putting groceries away, making some simple macaroni and cheese for supper, and getting comfortable, the two spent the remainder of the night (and a while into the morning) playing video games, falling into their groove even easier than they did at Kirishima's, what with the lack of other people as distractions. It was nearly two in the morning when Bakugou finally decided he was too tired to keep going without 'fucking up', as he put it, and they merely curled up on their respective ends of the couch the way they'd done the night before with some random Netflix show on in the background.

Bakugou had reluctantly asked Kirishima if it was alright to leave the television on, sheepishly admitting he had a hard time falling asleep without the noise. He'd fallen asleep pretty quickly after that, leaving Kirishima to his own thoughts for a while, despite his own tired eyes, dry from so many hours of staring at a screen. It was just beginning to hit home just how alone Bakugou had been for the past couple of years—years that to him had to have seemed like so much longer because of all he's had to go through. It only made sense that he needed some sort of noise to fall asleep to; Kirishima had only fallen asleep in a completely empty, silent house alone a few times in his life, but he could still remember how the ringing of the silence hurt his ears, how empty the house around him had felt. He couldn't imagine feeling that way every night; if the TV was what Bakugou needed to ease that feeling, even if only a little, no way could Kirishima argue.

He thought about how Bakugou had used that silly money as an excuse to hang out for weeks before Kaminari said something to him. At the time it had made sense to Kirishima, that Bakugou was being stubborn about paying him back because he truly didn't want to be indebted to him, but in hindsight he couldn't help but realize, what with knowing Bakugou so much better than he had back then, that Kaminari had seen right through him, that the money had been an excuse until he no longer needed it to be.

He remembered the way Bakugou's hand had tightened around his the day before, just prior to muttering, "But if you decide to stay I'm not gonna stop you." Remembered—achingly—the desperate look in Bakugou's eyes just before that when Kirishima had been backing away, and realized that all of this, with the way Bakugou had seemed to hold onto his wrist with as much strength as he could muster in that moment, it all added up. It made so much sense. Too much sense.

As he sat curled up, his arms wrapped around his knees, head resting against the back of the couch with his eyes on the other, Kirishima couldn't help feeling stupid. He should've seen it. He should've been paying more attention.

Even so, he was there now. He had no intention of going anywhere, of leaving Bakugou alone anymore and letting him suffer in silence by himself. Whether or not something was made of the feelings he held for the blonde, he was there as Bakugou's friend as long as he was needed.

~

The following night it was sort of an unspoken thing that Kirishima was going to stay at Bakugou's again. After all, he'd stuffed enough clothes and such into his backpack for a good week at least just in case, and by the time they managed to pull themselves out of their video game again, it was already past sundown and had begun to snow again.

It was comfortable, shuffling around the kitchen making a simple dinner, only pausing in their conversation about the quest they were on for Bakugou to ask, "So when you gotta be home?"

"Whenever I want," Kirishima told him. "Sero and Mina will be alright without me for a few days."

"...'cause I got another doctor appointment on Wednesday," Bakugou explained.

"Alright," Kirishima told him. "No problem. Just tell me to get out anytime and I will," he said with a grin.

Bakugou never really responded to that, and when Wednesday rolled around—only a day later—Kirishima was more than happy to tag along to the appointment. Bakugou warned him he'd get bored, seeing as appointments rarely took less than an hour, but Kirishima was perfectly occupied with his sketchbook and watercolor pens, and it felt like no time at all had passed by the time Bakugou was striding back out of the elevator.

"How'd it go?"

The blonde only shrugged, leading the redhead back outside.

"Bad?"

"No. Nothing's changed. They were just doing tests and shit to try and find another treatment," he said, expression once again unreadable.

"Gotcha. You feelin' okay?" Kirishima couldn't help asking.

In a split second, Bakugou's eyes flicked toward the redhead and then away. "Yeah. I'm okay."

Because it was a rare occasion that the trip back to Bakugou's apartment lacked any conversation, Kirishima didn't fully believe him, but he kept quiet about it. At that point in their relationship, he could only assume that if Bakugou had something he needed to get off his chest, he knew Kirishima was there for him. Unwaveringly. All the redhead could do was give him his space.

And a drawing, for the record.

"Hey, so I have something I wanna give you," he was saying as Bakugou was kicking off his shoes and tugging his hoodie off. As soon as the words were out, though, Kirishima was met with a hard glare.

"You gotta stop fucking spending money on me, Dumb Hair," the blonde practically growled.

"I didn't!" Kirishima defended quickly. "Really, it's something I made. I just finished it while I was waiting for you, actually."

Somehow that only made Bakugou's eyes narrow even more, but all he did was sit quietly on his usual end of the couch with his arms crossed while Kirishima slid his sketchbook out and flipped to the drawing he'd just finished. He kept the book angled so Bakugou wouldn't see it and gently tore the page from the spine, all while under suspicious, eyeliner-smudged scarlet eyes.

"Just a sec," Kirishima told him, flipping the paper over so he could scribble his signature in the bottom corner. With that he held the paper out to Bakugou, face down.

The mild skepticism didn't fade from Bakugou's eyes until he turned the drawing over and had looked at it for a good, long minute. Slowly it faded out until his face was relaxed aside from a small crease between his brows.

"So whattaya think?" Kirishima asked.

"...is it supposed to look like me?"

"Ah... you noticed, huh?" Kirishima chuckled, sheepish, as he moved closer to the other, peeking down at the drawing again. It was the same one he'd started a couple of weeks ago when he hadn't been in contact with Bakugou—a liger, its body stretching up the page, fangs bared and claws out. He'd colored it black and made the stripes orange, its mane a similar ash blonde as Bakugou's, sticking out in all different directions the way the blonde's hair did. The one visible eye was a deep shade of red, too. "It wasn't supposed to at first, to be honest, but then I added the mane and started coloring it and it just sorta happened," he admitted. "Do you like it?"

The paper trembled with Bakugou's hand for a moment longer before he cast it suddenly onto the table in front of him, leaning over to tangle his hands through his hair, elbows resting on his knees. Kirishima's stomach tightened at the sight. He was beginning to think he'd done something wrong and open his mouth to apologize when Bakugou finally spoke.

"Look, Shitty Hair," he mumbled. "There's one more thing I haven't told you yet, and I guess I'm fucking pathetic 'cause I was too damn chicken shit to tell you."

"Tell me what?" the redhead asked, his voice softer than expected. His heart stuttered and sped up, fearing whatever it was Bakugou was about to say.

"This shitty whatever-the-fuck it is illness is at the worst it's ever been since that fucking treatment was starting to make it worse again. Not only that, but the damn doctors told me something that honestly scares the living shit out of me." He sat up suddenly, fists clenched and jaw rippling. As much as he may have wanted to, he didn't look at Kirishima.

"You can tell me, man," Kirishima said. Again his voice was soft and surprisingly more even than he'd expected, in spite of the tightness in his chest and the fact that his heart seemed to have jumped into his throat.

"Guess some chemical in said treatment reacted weird with my cells or whatever," Bakugou gritted out. "And they told me that it might turn the cells cancerous or someshit. It hasn't yet 'cause it's been a really slow reaction, which is why it took them so fucking long to see it. But if it does, they don't know what the fuck could happen, 'cause it's all over my body. Could start in my skin or my blood or my spine or my lungs or even my fucking brain. So then that'll probably kill me if this shit doesn't first. Either way I'm pretty much fucked."

For a moment—one that probably didn't last as long as it felt—Kirishima was frozen. It was like he'd forgotten how to move his limbs. His eyes stung, though whether that was due to a lack of blinking or impending tears, he wasn't sure. He could only look at Bakugou for that minute, letting his words sink in. Letting what they meant sink in. Letting, finally, the reality of the blonde's whole situation sink in.

When Bakugou's eyes finally turned on him was the moment he seemed to remember how to move. "So now you know. I know you said you wanna fucking stay for some stupid reason I'll literally never get, but if you do you're just gonna make shit harder on yourself, so you should just go. Like I said the other day, 'm not gonna be mad, so—"

The words were cut off as soon as a pair of warm, secure arms had snaked their way around Bakugou's shoulders again and he stiffened. Kirishima held as tight as he dared, not minding that Bakugou's incessant shaking caused him to shake, too.

"I already told you I'm not going anywhere, man," he told the blonde. "Not unless you really want me to. I care about you too much already and besides, you've been alone too damn long for me to feel okay leaving you like that."

Bakugou's movement was slow, but eventually his arms, too, found their way around Kirishima's waist where he held with a surprising amount of strength. Despite this, he said, "You're a fucking moron, Kirishima."

"Maybe I am, but I'm here with you no matter what happens, Bakugou. We'll get through it all together, alright?"

Bakugou's hands clamped into fists on Kirishima's back. "Fuck," he hissed, voice thick. "You're so stupid."

Though he couldn't see him, Kirishima somehow knew that the extra quivering of the blonde's frame had nothing to do with his illness at all. And all he could do was hold him close and let him ride it out, a few tears of his own managing to escape down his cheeks.

Kirishima suddenly could think of nothing but how glad he was that he'd clumsily stumbled into Bakugou at Starbucks all those months ago. The feelings he carried for the blonde aside, Bakugou needed someone, as he had for who knew how long. Kirishima never truly thought about how much of a believer in fate he was, but to him this was nothing if not it. More than anything else, he truly wanted to be there for Bakugou as long as he possibly could be no matter how things turned out.

It was a long while before Bakugou finally lifted his head away from Kirishima's shoulder, and by then any trace of tears he might've shed was gone. Not even his eyeliner was smudged any more than normal, though the whites of his eyes were pink and that look of exhaustion Kirishima was getting to know was beginning to creep into his features again.

Kirishima gave him a small half smile when their eyes met, faces still only inches apart. Bakugou's fists loosened and just when the redhead thought he was pulling his arms away and had done the same, pale hands came to the front of his chest instead and curled into fists again, this time around the cotton of Kirishima's hoodie. Heart jumping, his lips parted to question the blonde before, suddenly, he was being yanked forward and a set of mildly chapped lips were molding right into his own without warning.

A muffled grunt of surprise sounded from Kirishima's throat, a completely unprecedented thrill shooting straight down his back the second those lips pressed to his.

And then it was as though a switch was flipped; he didn't know if it was instinctual or what, but his body was suddenly responding automatically. His hands found Bakugou's waist and he was pressing closer, kissing back, refusing to let the baffled thoughts swarming around his head ruin the moment for him the way they had so many times before. For that moment, with a stuttering heart and a stomach full of fireworks, he just let it happen—and reveled in the feeling of the other's lips and the slight lingering flavor of mint that clung to them.

As he'd been the one to initiate it, Bakugou was the one to pull away first. He didn't move very far, and though his shaking fingers loosened he didn't release Kirishima's hoodie. It was silent for a minute, save for the soft breathing between them.

Kirishima's head was spinning. He wanted to open his dumb mouth and start firing the thousands of questions buzzing through his mind yet at the same time he couldn't seem to find his voice.

"Sorry," the blonde murmured. "Shouldn't have done that without askin' first..." His fists released Kirishima then, prompting the redhead to withdraw his hands, too, as much as he didn't want to. His eyes finally peered open to see Bakugou moving away—not far, but he was.

"S'okay," the redhead managed. "Sometimes surprises like that are nice."

The remark was met with a snort as Bakugou ran a hand through his hair. While Kirishima couldn't seem to tear his eyes from the blonde—whose cheeks were undeniably flushed in a color Kirishima wanted to paint all over the walls, to immerse himself in, to savor forever—Bakugou kept his gaze squarely away from the redhead.

"Uhm..." Kirishima mumbled. "What... exactly... was your reason for that?" He rubbed a bit uneasily at the back of his neck.

"'Cause..." Bakugou started as he, too, was scratching his head awkwardly. "I didn't know how the fuck else to thank you." Again it was one of those rare instances where his voice was pleasantly soft, and Kirishima realized he wanted to hear that voice more often.

"You mean... other than saying it?" the redhead mumbled.

"You already know I fucking suck at saying shit, Dumb Hair." Just like that, the softness was gone. Still, Kirishima's lips thinned into a smile. "So you wanna play or what?" grumbled the blonde, snatching the game controller off of the coffee table.

"Sounds good," Kirishima said, doing the same. Together they settled back onto the couch, neither of them moving away from the other; as a result, their shoulders brushed and their thighs rested lightly together. "Hey, so do you like the drawing?" Kirishima found himself suddenly asking.

"Does a bear shit in the woods?" Bakugou deadpanned, selecting the game from his list.

The redhead chuckled. "Glad you like it, man."

It wasn't until halfway through another quest and they were sitting on a loading screen that any conversation had to do with something other than the game. Kirishima had been debating with himself for a good half hour before he decided, screw it, he had to say what was on his mind.

"So... uhm, I guess I have one more thing I wanna tell you, too," he said.

Surprisingly enough, Bakugou's head swiveled in his direction as he uttered, "What?"

It took a few swallows to get rid of the lump in his throat, but Kirishima met the blonde's eyes when he spoke. "I like you, Bakugou... a lot."

Bakugou blinked slowly at him. "I knew that, idiot," he mumbled, turning his attention back to the game that'd finished loading.

"Oh... alright then," Kirishima said lightly, doing the same. Throughout the entire remainder of their quest, he couldn't stop thinking about how anticlimactic his silly little confession was, though he convinced himself that it definitely could've been worse. By the end of the quest, though the proclamation hadn't made things necessarily awkward, he couldn't help feeling he should say something more. Before he knew it, more words were flying out of his mouth without permission.

"So... d'you wanna go out sometime or something, then?"

The blonde let loose one of his classic snorts. "'Bout damn time you asked," he said.

Kirishima blinked stupidly at the blonde for a moment, whose attention remained on the screen in front of him, before again his lips spread into a smile he'd found he could only muster when it came to Bakugou.

---

Asdlfkjasdlfkj I'm actually pretty damn proud of this fic and I'm seriously so grateful for every single one of you who's clicked on it to read, voted, and especially those of you who left comments. I really hope you guys have enjoyed this as much as you've said you do!! ♥

That being said, I'll soon be posting another Kiribaku fic called A Meme A Day (the title sucks but basically it's about Kirishima using memes to flirt with Bakugou in a boarding high school setting and I'm really excited about it) if you wanted to check that out! It'll be up not long after this is posted~

I've also got another oneshot in the works - though, with the way that's going, it might end up the same way as this one - turning into multiple parts because I have ideas that I don't want to just brush over to make it short enough to remain a oneshot ._. And, going back to the note at the beginning, apparently I just can't stop hurting my babies, 'cause it'll be another angsty one (even more so than this one, actually). I don't know when it will be up, but I'm aiming for sometime in March. I know that's vague, but I'll do my best not to make those of you who might be interested wait too long!

Thanks again, lovelies~ ♥