#finally crossposting

The first time Bakugo had a nightmare after Kamino, he had woken up the entire dorm building with his gut-wrenching screams and a massive explosion that had nearly destroyed his entire room. Both his screams and the sound of his explosion had echoed through the night like some kind of banshee call.

Everyone had been scared shitless, not knowing what to do. At least, almost everyone.

While the others gathered in the hall outside Bakugo's room, concerned for their classmate but not sure what exactly to do or what had even happened, Kirishima had immediately launched into damage control.

With the ease of someone who had done it a hundred times before, Kirishima had assured a frantic, fumbling Iida that everything was alright. He had directed everyone to go back to bed, promising him that he could handle everything.

Once everyone had reluctantly returned to their respective rooms, Kirishima had braved the fiery ruins of Bakugo's dorm to extinguish the blazing remnants of his desk and his burning wallpaper. Setting the fire extinguisher aside, he had sat on the edge of Bakugo's bed and wrapped his arms around Bakugo in a tight hug.

Kirishima had rubbed Bakugo's back and assured him that everything was going to be alright. Combing his fingers through Bakugo's hair, damp with sweat, he had just held him.

And when Bakugo had complained and growled and cursed him out, Kirishima had told him in no uncertain terms, "You're my friend, damn it, and I'm gonna hug you if you need a fucking hug so just shut up for once and let me help you!"

Bakugo had relented, stunned into silence and stillness at Kirishima's words. The redhead had sat there with him through the rest of the night, arms curled around his shoulders as he rambled on and on about whatever came to mind.

After that first night, the nightmares had remained just as horrible but his reactions had gradually lessened in intensity. He no longer woke up screaming or exploding things, now only waking with a start covered in sweat.

And every time, without fail, Kirishima would come running at the sound of him knocking on their shared wall. He usually came armed with extra blankets and a mountain of sweets and junk food.

He would stay up all night with Bakugo, talking and watching movies and old reruns or playing video games. Occasionally, he would let Bakugo nod off on his shoulder and never mention it again.

It was exactly what Bakugo needed tonight. So he waited for Kirishima's answering knock as he always did.

There was none.

Of course, there wouldn't be one, Bakugo reasoned. It was the middle of the night, Kirishima was probably sleeping.

So Bakugo knocked again, loud enough for Tentacle Arms to hear all the way from his room on the other side of Kirishima's, loud enough to wake the redhead who slept like a log, or more accurately, a rock.

And he waited. Sipping his water and looking up at the ceiling, he calmly waited. He wasn't known for being particularly patient but he could be when it really mattered.

But no knock ever came.

"Fuckin' hair-for-brains," Bakugo muttered under his breath as he climbed out of bed again. He stalked out of his room and made a beeline to Kirishima's door, letting himself in without bothering to knock.

"Yo, shitty hair," he greeted, striding into Kirishima's room with every intention of waking the hardhead so they could hang out. He didn't feel too great about waking up his friend but he didn't trust himself to be left alone with his thoughts and the lingering flashes of his nightmares.

But before he could drag Kirishima out of bed and taunt him about sleeping so deeply, about him having horrible reflexes, he realized that Kirishima wasn't in his room.

His bed, pressed against their shared wall so he could hear Bakugo if he had any nightmares, was empty. His green camouflage blanket was unmade and his pillows were strewn about haphazardly, one at the foot of the bed and the other on the floor.

His bathroom was empty, too. The door was open, lights off. He wasn't on his balcony, either.

Bakugo groaned. Knowing Kirishima, he had probably snuck downstairs to the common room to raid the fridge for a midnight snack.

Iida had tried to enforce a mandatory lights-out policy the first couple weeks they had moved into the dorms, as anyone who had ever met him would expect. But after the first week, he had eventually agreed to forget about it completely.

With twenty students with different circadian rhythms and sleeping habits, it simply wasn't feasible. Iida's attempt was rather admirable, nonetheless.

Everyone had agreed to at least attempt to maintain decent sleep schedules and avoid common areas after ten p.m. so as not to keep others up. Regardless, it wasn't unusual for hungry students who had already cleaned out their mini fridges to rifle through the refrigerator in the common room for leftovers, especially in the middle of the night.

Kirishima was arguably the worst offender. With an unabashed taste for meat and a seemingly bottomless pit in place of his stomach, he was prone to rather odd late-night cravings.

Poor Ojiro was still traumatized by the time he had come downstairs for a glass of water and found Kirishima eating a pickles and sliced banana sandwich with kimchi. The redhead was essentially a walking pregnancy craving.

Sighing, Bakugo dragged himself to the elevator. Hitting the button for the ground floor, he rubbed his eyes, exhausted but well aware there was no more sleep to be had for him.

He consoled himself with the fact that at least Kirishima would keep him entertained, whether it be with video games full of explosions or those old Crimson Riot movies that Kirishima knew every word to. Either way, he wouldn't be spending the night alone, he'd be with the only person who had ever looked beyond his fiery exterior and his Quirk to find something more.

But the common room and kitchen were empty. So were the showers and the laundry room. There was no trace of Kirishima anywhere.

Knife-sharp paranoia jolted through him like an electrical shock, panic coursing through his veins. Heart thundering in his ears, he hurried back upstairs, not even bothering with the elevator.

Unbidden explosions detonated in his palms as paced back and forth down the fourth floor hallway, trying to father his frenzied thoughts. Where the hell was Kirishima? Was he hanging out with Kaminari or Sero? Had the villains somehow gotten to him?

Oh god. What if they had kidnapped him like they had Bakugo? Wrapped their filthy hands around his neck like a noose and carted him off somewhere, somewhere they couldn't find him?

Kirishima was so selfless, so painfully, stupidly selfless. If he thought it would keep the rest of the class safe, he would go with the villains without a moment of hesitation.

He was such an idiot. A stupid, self-sacrificing, shitty-haired idiot who was too damn heroic for his own good.

And he was gone.

Bakugo's breath started coming in short, shallow gasps as the sparks in his hands fizzled out to black fumes like a car running low on fuel. The stench of burnt sugar and soot filled his nose.

His hands felt numb, fingers tingling with pins and needles like they had somehow fallen asleep. It only made the panic worse.

His throat seemed to constrict as he desperately tried to drag in air, lungs burning. He could feel his head spinning, a gradual buzzing building in his ears like a swarm of bees had made his skull their hive.

Dizzy, he slumped to his knees in the hallway in front of Kirishima's open door. The emptiness of the room seemed to mock him, the buzzing in his ears morphing into spectral laughter.

He raised his numb hands to his ears, trying to block out the sound. All it did was amplify the thunderous cacophony of his rapidly beating heart, pain blossoming in his chest like he had been socked in the ribs.

Kirishima, he thought, desperate and terrified and lost, until the echo of his name dampened the rush of his blood and the painful tattoo of his heart. Kirishima, Kirishima, Kirishima...

"Kirishima's on the roof," a voice said, drawing his attention away from his spiraling thoughts. It was Shoji. Standing in the doorway of his room, he pointed upwards, elaborating, "I heard him go up there about an hour ago. You're looking for him, aren't you?"

Bakugo whipped around to face him, explosions flaring to life to dance around his fingertips. Breath catching in his throat, he narrowed his eyes at Tentacle Arms and growled, "The fuck is it to you, asshole?"

Shoji didn't take the bait. He simply repeated himself, sighing, "Kirishima's on the roof."

It took Bakugo a moment to process what Shoji had said, having only focused on the tail end of his unexpected announcement. 'Kirishima's on the roof.' Kirishima was there. He wasn't in danger. He was there. Wasn't in danger.

Bakugo nodded in acknowledgment before practically sprinting back to the stairwell, leaving Shoji to step back into his room. He shivered to think about what could leave Bakugo so shaken, what horrible scenarios he must have dreamed up to be so worried about Kirishima's whereabouts.

Bakugo raced up the stairwell, two steps at a time, to the roof. He shoved the heavy metal door that led to the roof open with a frustrated, breathless grunt.

The sight he was met with flooded him with relief so total and overwhelming that it almost brought him to his knees. Sitting on the roof, safe and sound and smiling, was Kirishima.

He was sprawled out in a fold-up canvas chair, one leg hiked up awkwardly over one of the arms of the chair, apparently unable to sit like a normal human being. He was curled up with a black blanket draped over his shoulders that looked beyond comfortable, thick and plush where it covered him like a cape.

His ridiculous hair was down for the night, red bangs framing his face and partially obscuring the cord of his earbuds. He looked just as stupidly happy as always, bobbing his head along to whatever song he was listening to while smiling to himself.

His head was tipped back over the back of the chair as he looked up at the night sky. Probably picking out familiar constellations that weren't obscured by the city lights, like he and Bakugo had done on their balconies together a few weeks prior.

"Kirishima..." Bakugo whispered, heart swelling in his chest almost painfully, like a balloon about to burst. If he had been drowning in panic before, he was buoyed by relief now, the mere sight of Kirishima evaporating the bulk of his panic.

Behind him, the door to the roof slammed shut. As Bakugo jumped, a shocked explosion going off in his hand, Kirishima raised his head at the sound, turning to look at Bakugo.

His smile widened into a dazzlingly bright grin, more radiant than the full moon floating overhead among the wispy clouds. He tugged his earbuds out, excitedly waving Bakugo over.

"Hey, man!" Kirishima crowed cheerfully like he was greeting Bakugo in the morning before they headed to class together. Like they were just passing each other in the hallway or he was offering Bakugo a cup of coffee or some scrambled eggs when he made breakfast on the weekends.

Bakugo was dumbstruck, completely and utterly. It was one thing to hear from Tentacles that Kirishima was alright, it was another thing entirely to see it for himself.

Infinitely relieved and grateful that nothing horrible had happened, that no villain had somehow snuck into UA, Bakugo did what he did best when worried about being vulnerable; he covered it up with hostility. Folding his arms over his chest, he snapped, "The hell are you doing out here?"

As always, Kirishima took Bakugo's outburst in stride, rolling his eyes at his friend's waspish tone. He brushed a lock of hair behind his ear as he shrugged and explained, "I couldn't sleep."

"So you came up to the fucking roof?" Bakugo pressed. He absently gestured around the roof, shooting Kirishima a confused look.

Kirishima just shrugged again. "I didn't wanna bother anyone. I figured if I stayed in my room, I'd just end up waking you or Shoji."

It was such a Kirishima answer that Bakugo melted a bit. He dropped his arms with a huff and walked across the roof to stand by Kirishima, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants.

The wind picked up a bit, ruffling Kirishima's loose hair and making Bakugo shiver. It was too fucking cold for Kirishima's selfless bullshit.

Before he could say just that, Kirishima straightened up in his seat and opened his arms, spreading his blanket out like a pair of big, black bat wings. He nodded to the bit of space left on the chair, insisting, "C'mon, dude, I know you hate the cold."

Bakugo motioned for Kirishima to move over as he sat, still winding up halfway on Kirishima's lap. Not at all bothered, Kirishima wrapped the blanket around Bakugo, keeping an arm curled around the back of his waist.

They both fell silent, curled up together under the warm blanket. Bakugo subtly leaned in closer to Kirishima, comforted by the familiar warmth and solidity of his friend, his friend who was safe right beside him."

"I come up here a lot when I can't sleep. Used to do it back home, too," Kirishima said out of the blue, tipping his head back to look up at the sky again. Smiling to himself, he clarified, "I used to climb outta my bedroom window to sit on the roof whenever I couldn't sleep. Which was pretty often now that I think about it."

Bakugo tilted his head to look at Kirishima, at his soft smile and warm, half-lidded eyes. He flashed his sharp white teeth as he continued, explaining, "I don't know why, but looking up at the stars always made me feel safe—" he trailed off, shrugging and looking down "—Pretty stupid, huh?"

"It's not," Bakugo said immediately, perhaps a bit harsher than he had intended. It did the trick though, wiping that self-conscious look off Kirishima's face as he turned to look at Bakugo. With Kirishima focused on him, he asserted, "If it helps you, it's not stupid, alright?"

"Thanks, man," Kirishima answered, tightening his arm around Bakugo in a quick hug. He leaned back again, eyes skyward. Bakugo watched them in an attempt to figure out what Kirishima was thinking.

A long moment of silence, companionable and without any awkwardness, passed before Kirishima spoke up again. Brows drawn together, he asked, "What're you doing up, anyway?"

Bakugo tilted his head to look down at his bare feet, crossing then uncrossing his ankles. With a tiny shrug, he reluctantly admitted, "Had another fucking nightmare."

"Shit," Kirishima cursed, the unexpected sound of a swear coming from him instantly drawing Bakugo's eyes back to his face. Kirishima had thrown his head back, hand covering his face as he groaned, "And I wasn't there. I'm sorry, man."

"It's fine," Bakugo said, heart squeezing at the sight of Kirishima so upset with himself because he was worried about Bakugo. When Kirishima hesitantly turned to look at him, Bakugo insisted, "You were dealing with your own shit. It's fine."

Kirishima just smiled at him, nodding once. He curled the blanket tighter around them, tugging Bakugo in close. Bakugo let him, resting his cheek against Kirishima's chest to listen to the steady metronome of his heart.