Swallowing air till it wormed its way into every molecule of his lungs, Kirishima slinked past his fellow classmates' doors. Despite seeing the tactical advantage that sneaking possessed, he still despised doing it. Charging in to deal with his problems head on was his natural calling in facing any situation -no coyness or slyness, just clear motivations and results. Regardless of this belief, he still found himself silently stepping through the minefield of the hallway, avoiding the places of settlement and uneven subflooring. After not seeing his friend for several days, all Kirishima desired in this moment was to reach Bakugou's room.

What Kirishima was doing was completely idiotic, and he was conscious of this. If he was caught outside his room after curfew, Aiwaza was going to punish him fiercely in both a physical and academic sense. He could have easily waited till Bakugou returned back to the class, but in Kirishima's eyes, it would have been too late. Too late for what exactly? Not even the teen could supply an answer to the question he brought forth. Something compelled him to see his friend or else their relationship would be different for lack of a better word. There would be an air of uncomfortableness in which Bakugou will refuse to open up about his feelings whilst imprisoned in the dorms.

When he reached his desired destination, Kirishima pondered if he should knock or try the door handle. Knocking could cause noise which is bad for the redhead, especially since he was close to Mineta's room and he didn't trust his unmanly classmate in the slightest. But if he barged in on Bakugou (that is if the door wasn't locked), some foul words could be exchanged which could also cause a racket. Kirishima stood with a hand on his chin and the other on his hip, deciding what would be the method of going at this. This didn't last long, because as previously stated, Kirishima was a person who charged in to deal with his issues. He took hold of the knob, and as quietly he could, forced himself into Bakugou's room.

The room reeked with days of accumulated sweat. Clothes were tossed around with reckless abandon, littering nearly every inch of the floor. The bed wasn't made properly with the corners of the sheets splayed out, exposing bare mattress. Stacks of textbooks, notes, and crumpled pieces of paper cluttered the desk and its surrounding area. Not even the desk chair was exempt from the mess as several of Bakugou's binders and exercise bras were hanging on the back of it. And there, in the one clear oasis on the floor, was another mess: Bakugou himself. He was doing push ups, and by the sweat dripping off his face and drenching his tanktop, it seemed he's been doing this for quite some time now. Kirishima didn't know if Bakugou even noticed him in his room since he made no reaction. He simply continued doing push ups.

Unsure as to what to do, Kirishima shut the door and sat on the bed. He was creating obvious noise with the door clicking shut and the bed squeaking, but the other teen maintained his pace. Slumping forward and placing a hand on his cheek, Kirishima eyed his friend. His skin glistened with sweat which made Bakugou's entire body an explosive; that thought caused Kirishima to imagine him cartoonishly setting off his body as a "special move" in some fight.

A grotesque sound of dry heaving and vomiting shattered Kirishima's mental image of him dressed as a stick of dynamite. Instinctively, the redhead jumped to Bakugou's side and watched with horror as his friend continued puking without a pause in his exercise.

"Bakugou, stop!" Kirishima shrieked. He hooked his arms underneath the blonde's tense ones, and pushed off his feet so that the redhead's back was pressed against the bed and Bakugou was peeled off the floor. Throughout this process, the sick, weakened teen helplessly struggled against Kirishima's strength. Threads of drool hanged from his mouth, his breathing rough and desperate for air.

"Let go of me," Bakugou mumbled through coughs and gasps, wriggling his body to escape Kirishima's rocky hold. He didn't even have the energy to activate his quirk over his sweat soaked body.

The redhead's grip tightened, and his head fell against Bakugou's neck. Kirishima's jaw had never been so tense, his teeth grinding against each other. Unwanted tears streamed down his face.

"Please stop, Bakugou. Please stop," Kirishima said as his lip quivered.

"I can't!" The blonde's voice was hoarse, raspy as if talking in of itself was painful. "I need to be strong enough so that no one needs to save me anymore!"

He's doing this because of what happened with All Might. He's put so much pressure on himself, and overworked himself so that he can achieve something intangible. Being so strong to never rely on others again. Kirishima felt his friend's body grow limper and limper as seconds ticked by, his energy depleting from the useless struggle Bakugou put up. This only furthered sadden the redhead as more tears flowed through his clenched eyes.

"It wasn't your fault what happened to All Might! His health was getting worse and worse, Bakugou, his current state would have happened regardless of you being kidnapped! And besides, there's nothing wrong with needing to be saved! It's manly for someone to realize that they can't do something on their own and they need help!"

Either exhausting all power or willingly folding, Bakugou went flaccid in Kirishima's arms. His head lolled to the side, and his breathing became more consistent instead of an uneven rise and fall of his chest. An airy laugh-cough spilled from Bakugou's mouth. "Looks like I needed saving again."

"Bakugou…"

Kirishima longed to find words to express his current feelings for his friend; he wanted to reassure him, to tell him that he's one of the strongest persons the redhead's ever met. Since day one, Bakugou proved that physically he was superior than most of the other students, and after studying sessions together, Bakugou was clearly highly intelligent. Though foul mouthed, Bakugou contained so many traits that Kirishima yearned for. Physically and mentally adept, lips that spoke without hesitation, and an undying wish to become the number one hero. Confidence spewed for every pore on his body -something Kirishima lacked. Bakugou compared himself to All Might, wanting to be better than him; Kirishima compared himself to Crimson Riot, seeing a vision of manliness that he could never achieve. Even now, with the other boy exhausting himself beyond reason, Kirishima admired Bakugou's pure dedication to his dream. Tears continued to come forth from his closed eyes for many reasons known and unknown to Kirishima.

Drowning in his thoughts, Kirishima didn't notice Bakugou moving to face him. A sweat drenched hand was placed on his cheek and microscopic explosions danced across the redhead's wet skin, shocking Kirishima back to reality. Through unclear vision, he looked into Bakugou's eyes that stood like bright beacons of fire. Kirishima didn't realize until now how fitting they were for Bakugou.

"What kind of a hero ends up being saved by such a crybaby? Seems like you're the one that needs saving."

Unsure as to how to answer and slightly hypnotized by the other boy's eyes, Kirishima simply stared in silence as the tears lessened.

"Pull yourself together," Bakugou said, releasing a slightly larger explosion onto Kirishima's cheek.

Through flinching, the redhead nodded as he understood that he needed to not be weak in this moment. Bakugou needed him to clean himself up and place him into bed, but in other terms, to "save him". Thankful for the blonde's equivalent of a slap, Kirishima slipped Bakugou's tank top off and tossed it into the far corner of the room. With only a simple grunt, Kirishima understood that Bakugou wanted to not be seen in a sports bra or bare chest. The redhead used this opportunity to slip out of the room to wet some paper towels from the bathroom. It gave Bakugou enough time to place an oversized All Might shirt onto him, which Kirishima gently smiled at after he returned. The redhead handed the wet paper towels to the blonde because there was no way in this infinite and omnipresent universe that Bakugou would allow someone to wipe something off of his cheek like a child. While Bakugou removed bits of bile of himself, Kirishima messily tried to organize the room. A mountain of dirty clothes, a sloppily cleaned vomit pile, and a haphazardly made bed were the results of the quick cleaning.

"Whew!" Kirishima beamed, impressed at his handy maid work. Cleaning was an activity he hated, but if it meant that he was helping others, he would gladly do it.

Despite his entire being feeling like dead weight, Bakugou hauled himself onto his freshly made bed and collapsed on the welcoming sheets. With an airy sigh, the blonde muttered a quiet thanks.

Looking down on his friend, Kirishima fell victim to Bakugou's entrancing red eyes once more. A pit in his stomach formed as confusing feelings swirled and clogged the hole. He wanted to hold Bakugou like he had done several minutes ago, he wanted to comfort him, he wanted to fall asleep next to Bakugou to confirm that he was sleeping soundly. He wanted Bakugou to not be in pain anymore.

"Is there still shit on my face?" Bakugou sleepily said, his eyelids becoming heavier and heavier as sleep enveloped him.

Embarrassed that he was caught staring, the redhead swiftly averted his gaze to the door. "I should leave before it gets too late."

Without giving Bakugou a chance to reply, Kirishima opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The eerie silence allowed for the redhead's heartbeat to consume his hearing; the internal pit felt like it was engulfing every nerve, every vein, every molecule in his body. Confusion, tiredness, embarrassment, loneliness, fear, happiness, and guilt were a few emotions Kirishima was experiencing. It secretly killed him knowing that Bakugou wasn't enduring any shared feelings, that Bakugou was asleep without a hole festering inside his body. How unmanly of me, Kirishima thought as he numbly headed back to his room. Slipping into his bed, there was only one thought that permeated his mind. How unmanly. How unmanly. How unmanly.