It's always been a common misconception that Bakugou has terrible memory. The fact that he never bothers to remember the names of his classmates only adds fuel to the fire. The thing is that he is gifted at remembering the things that are important while forgetting the things that are not. This is why he easily recalls complicated math formulas while simultaneously not being able to recite which pro hero actually teaches said math class. It's an impeccable system that hasn't failed Bakugou in his entire life. Anything that is forgotten is never missed and nothing that is remembered is ever unused.

Yet, as Bakugou faces the lockers in the boy's locker room and throws on his gym uniform, his eyes catch sight of something that he swears is familiar. Kirishima was standing facing away from Bakugou a few lockers down. He had unbuttoned his class uniform shirt and peeled it off. The red haired boy was too busy laughing at whatever Sero was talking about to notice the way that Bakugou's eyes locked onto the skin of his back.

A wave of unease suddenly hit Bakugou at the sight. It was an odd sense of deja vu, almost. Except it wasn't like an exact replica of a past event. It was as if it was from a past event but just slightly to the left. They've used these locker rooms more often than Bakugou could count and Kirishima's hero costume definitely allowed a clear view of his spine, his shoulder blades, and the curvature of each of his muscles. Despite that, it's only now that it occurs to Bakugou that the sight is unnatural.

It's as if something was missing. As if something should be there, somewhere, on his back. It wasn't having to do with Kirishima's quirk, Bakugou deduces. Did Kirishima ever get a tattoo or something on his back? Nah, it couldn't be anything like that. They were way too young for tattoos. His eyes trail up to his spiked, red hair finding familiarity in it. Whatever was wrong, it was similar to his hair. Something about its color. Its spikes.

Before he can realize he's staring at another dude like a weirdo in a locker room, someone raps on his shoulder. Bakugou startles and rips his eyes away from his friend, instinctively covering up his surprise with a yell.

"What the fuck do you want?"

He turns to find Kaminari holding his palms up in surrender.

"I'm not trying to accuse you of anything, but I'm just saying that my deodorant is missing from my locker." he starts, eyes shining as innocently as possible.

Bakugou glares at Kaminari. He was only half dressed, the torso of his jumpsuit hanging limply by his waist, exposing his white undershirt.

"I didn't take your shitty deodorant," Bakugou growls out, having lost his train of thought entirely. He immediately forgets what he'd been thinking of. It's like he had a word stuck on the tip of his tongue but it evades him entirely. No use wasting his thoughts on something his brain never even bothered to remember.

Kaminari shrugs and walks off to, presumably, blame someone else for his shitty care of his own personal items. Bakugou straightens the collar of his uniform just as everyone starts to file out. He trudges his way through the crowd to be the first person to step out onto the running track. The weird almost-memory doesn't enter his mind for the rest of the day.


The next time that the odd feeling creeps its way into Bakugou's mind, it's been a week since the locker room incident. He was in the common room, having been unable to focus on homework because of Todoroki stomping around in his dorm which was, unfortunately, directly above Bakugou's. Probably pissed at his old man or something.

Bakugou took up an entire couch, laying on his stomach with his Japanese history textbook propped up on a cushion and his pencil scribbling down the answers to questions in the book. It wasn't entirely quiet. Yaoyorozu, Uraraka, and Asui were playing a card game at one of the tables and would gossip and groan when one of them lost. It was quiet enough for Bakugou.

He wasn't able to admit that the common room came with no distractions. As much as he tried to focus on the questions in front of him, his attention kept wandering. Begrudgingly, he found his eyes straying from the notes in front of him to the figure sprawled on the bigger couch in the room.

Kirishima lay on his back, one arm over the arm of the couch above his head and the other hanging over the side. The toes on one of his feet were skimming the ground. His neck was at an awkward angle, twisted until it looked ready to fall off the couch. Bakugou's eyes trailed over the boy's face. His mouth was hanging open, revealing sharp teeth and he was snoring softly. Bakugou wondered why the idiot didn't just sleep in his bed. Instead he thought it would be better to take up an entire goddamn couch? Where was the sense in that?

With that thought comes a sudden lurch in his mind. Something is wrong, his mind screams at him as he realizes that Kirishima didn't take up the entire couch. But he somehow felt that he should, despite him needing to grow an entire two feet to fit it perfectly.

Kirishima seemed small. Too small. Bakugou couldn't tell if he had some grandiose view of Kirishima in his mind that made him seem bigger. He could admit that the redhead's personality definitely fills any room it inhabits, but that can't explain how wrong Bakugou feels at seeing him so small.

It wasn't just that, either. Being sprawled out in that manner is very expected of the rambunctious boy. But still, Bakugou swears that Kirishima does not sleep like that. An image slams into Bakugou's memory of a blurry, red shape curled up into a ball. The "memory" is gone as soon as it appears, despite Bakugou's desperate attempt to picture it again.

Something is stabbing into his hand. Bakugou finally tears his eyes away from the sleeping Kirishima to the pencil in his hand, now severed in two. It is only now he's acutely aware of his breathing and how fast it's become. His heart is pounding against his ribs almost painfully and it's the only sound that reaches his ears. It's panic. All he feels is pure panic flooding his bones because this is wrong. Something is wrong with him.

And it has to do with the boy who always seems to steal his attention by reminding him of a memory he never experienced.


Bakugou almost forgets about the weird occurrences by the time it happens again almost two weeks later. They were both back in the common room. The redhead had knocked on Bakugou's door an hour earlier and asked for help with his English work. Bakugou conceded but only if Kirishima helped him with his math. He had ended up sleeping through a handful of lessons for the past few days.

Bakugou hadn't been sleeping well at night. He finds himself constantly roused from sleep at odd hours of the morning. The dreams that wake him up were always forgotten as soon as his eyes open. Most of the time, it was easy to deduce when the dreams were nightmares. Bakugou would shoot upright while screaming, arm always outstretched. He was trying to get to something that was just beyond his fingertips but he didn't know what it was. He remembered splashes of red. Red hair, red eyes, red blood. It terrified him to not know what or who the nightmares were about. He had an inkling, however.

What he does know is that not all of the dreams were nightmares. Sometimes instead of waking up screaming and sweating, he wakes up with a feeling of longing. Bakugou has never experienced such a tremendous loss like the one he feels when he gets those dreams. He knows they aren't nightmares but somehow they're more painful. A deep sense of loneliness fills his chest and when he goes to rub his eyes, his fingers come off wet.

Bakugou was not the kind of person to lay in his bed at night crying. But he was the kind of person to stubbornly refuse to give his mind the chance to torment him to that point. How does he do that? He stays awake. So that's how he ended up getting a whip to his arm from Midnight for falling asleep while she was teaching.

It was hard to pinpoint why, but Bakugou was always able to sleep peacefully when his classmates were around. He likes to think that being surrounded by people he trusts makes him drop his guard. What he knows as the truth is that whenever his classmates were all together, one voice always sticks out to Bakugou. The loud, boisterous laughter that resonates with every joke and the playful challenges that it throws to anyone who listens. Of course, everyone listens. Kirishima is absolutely magnetic. His energetic voice and fun personality makes him get along so easily with all the other students. It's not Bakugou's fault that the boy's charm works on him, too.

More and more Bakugou has noticed that he sticks around for group activities, if only to be a passive observer. He's always receiving personal invitations to play board games or friendly competitions with class 1-A and they all come from Kirishima. Bakugou can never refuse when it comes the other boy.

That's what finds him back on the common room couch, legs criss crossed and his head propped against his fist. He was trying to keep his feet warm while goosebumps littered his legs under his sweatpants. He had his textbook propped up on Kirishima's head. Said boy was sitting on the floor with his back against the couch. Even though Kirishima complained that the book was flattening his hair, Bakugou threatened to explode his head if he dared move it. He sat perfectly still on the floor, translating some sentences from Japanese to English in his notebook. The blond could hear him muttering under his breath, trying out his English translations to see if they sound right.

Bakugou's eyes were trained on the book in front of him but he was just reading the same sentence over and over again. His ears kept picking up Kirishima's words and his traitor of a brain preferred to focus on that rather than schoolwork. His pencil kept clicking against his sharp teeth when he was having trouble. Bakugou noticed the pencil was riddled with bite marks. Even though he has the same bad habit, all of Bakugou's pencils were in much better shape than Kirishima's. How often does he have to buy new ones because his pointed teeth ruin all of them?

Bakugou lets out a wide yawn, alerting the redhead under him. Kirishima stops his muttering and cranes his head up, making the textbook above him fall to the side.

"You can't fall asleep on me yet! I need you to check that these are right, bro."

Bakugou flicks him on the forehead with a small explosion, making the redhead wince and rub the spot where his fingers had charred his skin. Kirishima's lips form a pout and if anyone asks, Bakugou's eyes did not linger on them.

"I ain't falling asleep," he growls, "Keep working and don't move your head or next time I'll do more than flick you."

Kirishima obediently turns around again and the textbook makes its way to be propped open on top of his head. Bakugou resumes his earlier position, his eyes starting to droop. Drowsiness starts to take over as his muscles relax. He feels his head start to fall off his perch on his fist. The feeling lasts a split second as his hand slips to the side and he loses himself.

An image comes with the motion. He's in midair and falling quickly. There's fire all over the ground. It was far away but it was quickly rushing up to meet him. His eyes weren't on the damaged roads, however. They were on a shape that was falling with him, just above him, just beyond his reach. It was a monster. A hulking red beast with its scaly wings outstretched was nosediving towards Bakugou and Bakugou was desperately trying to get to it to no avail and right before he hits the ground the only thing that flashes through his mind is-

"Eiji-!"

Bakugou snaps his head back up, wide awake and panting, the word dying on his lips. He hadn't even noticed he was falling asleep but now that he was wide awake, he was aware of how fast his heart was beating.

"Bakugou? You alright, man?"

Bakugou jumps at the voice, forgetting he wasn't alone for a second and forgetting the textbook that falls to the ground as Kirishima stares at him with worry. The bright red eyes stare at him so sincerely that they instinctively make his heart slow down and his tense muscles relax.

And Bakugou hated that.

He didn't know what these dreams meant or why he felt so close to Kirishima. Yes, they were friends. Hell, Bakugou would consider Kirishima his best friend. But the way that his guard drops when he's around Kirishima, the way his eyes roam his face but linger on his lips, the way that he seems so familiar in a context outside of the school, the way that he feels he could drop any and all reservations around the boy as if it's something he was always meant to do was too much. He hated his feelings. He hated that no matter what he could not say no whenever Kirishima asks if he wants to go hiking. He hated that everyone else's feelings could go to hell but when it came to Kirishima, Bakugou cared what he thinks of him.

Which is why when those eyes, those horrifically familiar eyes, stared at him and waited for an answer, Bakugou made sure his face relaxed into his usual glare.

"That's a stupid question," Bakugou finally growls out, giving no elaboration. He refuses to look at Kirisima's eyes, instead glaring at the textbook laying on the floor.

Bakugou can't understand why these memories plague him. At first, he thought maybe they were someone else's memory. Maybe a quirk affected him with ridiculous images from some sort of movie or show. Maybe it would wear off after a while. He knew it was wishful thinking. Bakugou knew he was going insane. And he was damned if he was going to share anything like that with Kirishima.

He wouldn't share the memories with the other boy. Until he figures out what they're about, he would keep them to himself. The images, he could handle. The feelings of loss, of panic, of love were something else entirely.

Kirishima hadn't stopped staring at Bakugou, waiting for a real answer that he would not give. The redhead searches his face before landing on his arms and the goosebumps that were scattered on his skin.

"Are you cold? Want me to light the fireplace?" He grins with a cheery voice. Anything to make someone feel better, as usual. At the word 'fire', Bakugou gets a series of images of scorching flames all around the redhead but never touching him. Fire surrounding Kirishima but not burning him. The warm memories only make him feel colder.

Bakugou still doesn't look at his friend and rubs his arm, subtly trying to get some warmth back into his body. Kirishima apparently takes the action as a confirmation and gets to his feet, confusing the still-stunned Bakugou.

"Where the fuck are you going? The fireplace is right there, dumbass," He bites unthinkingly. Kirishima turns to him and shoves his hands in his hoodie pockets, tilting his head in confusion.

"Uh, yeah? I have to go to the fireplace to light… the fireplace. Did you get mine and Todoroki's quirks mixed up or something, man?" He jests with an uneasy smile, eyes still worried.

Bakugou draws his eyebrows together, trying to understand his own words. He doesn't know why Kirishima would be able to set something on fire from eight feet away and he doesn't know why he was so sure that he could, but he knows that it has to do with the memories.

"Seriously, dude. Are you alright?" Kirishima asks in a soft, low voice, eyes shifting around the room to make sure no one has walked in, "You know we're bros right? You can tell me anything. It would only make you even more manly to open up, y'know."

Kirishima grins reassuringly, his sharp teeth that would seem scary to some were far from threatening to him. And for some reason, that simple fact alone was more frightening than memories of a stranger.


Bakugou can't be around Kirishima anymore.

Every single thing the boy does triggers the memories. When Kirishima scrunches up his nose in confusion all Bakugou sees is the snarl of a red dragon. When Kirishima scratches his arm, he sees the blunt nails turning into razor sharp claws. When Kirishima turns to look at him softly in the middle of a laughing group, singling him out, Bakugou sees someone who feels like more than a friend.

He's realized that the memories he sees are his own. There are still countless theories as to how things he's never experienced were in his brain but at least it was a place to start. When he saw arms reaching out, he recognized every inch of the skin as his own. When he got a glimpse of his clothes, he realized that even though he didn't currently own a scrap of that fabric, it was an outfit he would 100% wear. When he screamed as he witnessed the red dragon get an arrow to the neck, it was his own raw, enraged voice that burst from his throat. When he saw rough hands clumsily stitch up the injuries on the smooth, tan skin of a red-haired boy, he recognized his own lack of fine motor skills. There was also the nagging part in the back of Bakugou's mind that keeps telling him to remember everything, as if these images really had happened and that there were countless more. It's as if he's been alive for centuries and the memories were so long ago that they were simply forgotten instead of randomly manufactured.

There was a tapping on his shoulder. "Are you okay, Kacchan?"

He hated whatever omniscient being decided that it would be a fantastic fucking idea to have Deku sitting directly behind him. But he still hated Midoriya more for being such a nosy little shit that couldn't get the hint that they were not friends.

"None of your fucking business, shit-for-brains," Bakugou mumbles from his place hidden in his arms, which lay on the desk. He tried to put some venom behind his words but the effect was swallowed by exhaustion. Bakugou was attempting to get a few precious minutes of sleep before class started, while a soft hum of voices permeated the classroom walls. Despite being across the room and surrounded by people, Bakugou could still perfectly hear the familiar voice that haunts his nightmares. Now, it also haunts his more plentiful waking hours.

"How much sleep did you get?"

Not finding the strength to argue or the intelligence to stay quiet he grumbles out a low 'seven'. He could almost hear the stupid look on Deku's face thinking that the number couldn't be right.

"Last night?"

"All. Fucking. Week."

It was Wednesday.

"You should be sleeping more."

"Thanks for the fucking tip. What do you think I'm trying to do, shitty Deku?" He cranes his arm back, curled palm aimed at what he assumes should be Midoriya's face. Bakugou didn't have the will to lift his head from its place, firmly stuck to the elbow on his desk.

"Keep me awake with your dumbass comments and I'll blow your damn face off," he growls with more bite to his words than he accomplished in the entire conversation. Upon three seconds of silence from the pestering boy, he retracts his hand and returns his arm to its former position cushioning his head.

Bakugou manages to turn his face to the side and write with his head still on the desk while his teachers taught, unable to catch any sleep while also refusing to fall behind. A migraine had blossomed across his brain and the sharp pain was keeping him awake, despite the lack of sleep being the cause of it. It wasn't until gym class started that the whole of how bad his problem was really hit him.

Instead of wearing their gym uniforms, Eraserhead told them to dress in their hero costumes and head to the arena. As Bakugou tugged on his gauntlets, he sighed. He wanted to get whatever they were doing out of the way as soon as possible so that he wouldn't have to stick around Kirishima for longer than he had to.

Unfortunately, that plan would not work.

As the students were gathered, Aizawa started to explain the activity for the day. They would be fighting head to head just like in the sports festival. Except this time, it was just class 1-A and they would be strategically chosen to be as evenly matched as possible. Jiro and Hagakure, Asui and Sero, Tokoyami and Kaminari, Midoriya and Todoroki, and the list continued until Bakugou finally heard his name.

"And finally, Bakugou, you're with Kirishima."

At the sound of the other boy's name, Bakugou's heart hammered. His hands started sweating and he suddenly felt very, very awake. They were just sparring but being anywhere within the proximity of Kirishima came with the risk that Bakugou could be faced with another wave of painful memories and nightmare fuel. He stared at the ground, steeling himself. This was his friend. His best friend. Nothing more and nothing less.

Even though they fought at the sports festival with Bakugou winning, Kirishima had drastically improved his combat skills and the endurance of his quirk since then. The fight would be a much more even one.

Aizawa reminded them that this exercise was to be able to exploit your opponent's weak point and show them how they could have deflected your attack. It was to help each other, not actually have a full-fledged fight. They had the free will to use their quirks or just hand to hand combat as long as no one got injured.

A hand clapped Bakugou's shoulder, startling him. His head snaps up and he glares particularly at the sharp, friendly smile of his current headache. He wishes Kirishima would stop smiling so much. It was making his heart do things he never would have thought possible.

"Looks like it's you and me, man!" Kirishima says, but upon looking at Bakugou's pale skin and bruises under his eyes, his smile disappears, "Are you sure you want to train today? You look awful. Maybe you should sit this one out."

Bakugou's gaze goes up to Kirishima's spiked hair. Those stupid horns were too small. They were fragile. They weren't right. His thin mask was a weird shape, nothing like the armor a dragon during war would wear. The scar above his eye was supposed to be bigger. It looked nothing like a scar inflicted by another dragon during battle. His red shoulder pads were not like the large, leathery wings he was supposed to have. So many images were flashing through Bakugou's mind at once and with every single one, his migraine worsened and his stomach was in knots.

Bakugou winced and scrunched his eyes shut tight, his fingers coming up to squeeze the bridge of his nose.

"Bakugou?"

Kirishima's voice was soft. Too soft. Too close to him. Too familiar. Yet too foreign. Kirishima wasn't supposed to call him by that name. Kirishima never called him by that name. It sounded wrong. Everything about him was wrong. Bakugou grits his teeth as the frustration of how awful this all feels makes his blood boil.

Bakugou roughly slaps Kirishima's hand off of him and lets out a growl as his other hand reels back and aims an explosion at the middle of the boy's chest. Kirishima reacts quickly, hardening his body to withstand the blast of Bakugou's attack. The air exploded with sound as Kirishima was thrown backwards, managing to stumble but stay on his feet.

"Don't fucking call me that!" Bakugou roars. Nothing else in the world existed other than Bakugou and his anger. Blood was rushing through his ears and the sound of it drowned out the cacophony of the other student's matches.

Kirishima's eyes were scared and alert. He was defensive, arms wide and knees bent.

"Bakugou, man, what are you doing?" He nearly yelled, not dropping his quirk because of Bakugou's reaction to the name. As soon as it was out of his mouth, Bakugou's fists started pouring smoke and crackling with energy. He was angry that Kirishima didn't see that this wasn't right. It wasn't fair that he was the only one to see and feel everything from the other world. Did that mean that Kirishima didn't feel as strongly as he did?

The thought triggered another barrage of events. Rough hands carding through his blonde hair, pulling him forwards. A softness against his lips. Fingers tugging at his clothes. A voice speaking with a tenderness that Bakugou had never heard before. The sound of his given name spoken lovingly. The sound of his given name said in a gasp. In a moan. In ecstasy.

All the different ways his name was said pounded around his head. They blurred together and he was desperate to hear it again from the lips that he missed so much. But this Kirishima was not the one in his head.

Bakugou's eyes burned as he choked on his breath, causing his anger to skyrocket. He shot towards the cause of his distress and Kirishima barely had time to put up his hardened arms to block the blast that Bakugou struck him with. Kirishima was blasted backwards again but had no time to recover before Bakugou followed him with another explosion to his face.

"Bakugou! Chill out!" Kirishima desperately tried to get through to him, knowing that this wasn't the explosive boy's usual behavior. Sure he could be competitive and ruthless in battle, but Bakugou was also strategic. Right now, his attacks were sporadic, fueled by pure hatred instead of his need to win.

He roared, reaching for the pin on one of his gauntlets. Kirishima's eyes widened in panic. Bakugou wasn't thinking. The blast would hurt his classmates or bring the entire arena down. Kirishima responded instinctively, both armored arms shoved between Bakugou's own arms and slapping them apart. It gave him an opening to kick Bakugou in the stomach, sending him sprawling backwards.

"Bakugou, what's wrong? Say something!" Kirishima desperately tries to reach him, being met with an enraged glare. Bakugou charged once more with a shout, his eyes not focused on anything. He was blinded by rage.

He started relentlessly wailing on Kirishima, letting out explosion after explosion on his forearms. Bakugou was screaming mindlessly, starting to chant over and over again.

"Bakugou!"

Boom "Shut up!"

"Bakugou! This isn't you!"

Boom "Shut up!"

"Goddammit! Katsuki!"

He froze.

Bakugou's eyes filled with tears and the world turned quiet. His ears were ringing and all he heard as his eyes slipped shut was his name finally being spoken just as he desperately wished.


There was a muffled droning and a weight leaning against Bakugou's side. His head was pounding and his eyelids felt stuck together. The droning sound started to sound like words as Bakugou became more and more conscious. It was coming from the weight at his side. He could hear bits and pieces, the voice being too quiet to really understand.

"Remember...just us… fly… memory… please…"

Bakugou groaned, his hand coming up to rub his face. He heard a gasp and the weight shifted and left. His eyes finally squinted open. Bakugou was briefly blinded by the infermary's fluorescent lighting and blinked a few times before turning his head to find Kirishima's worried eyes.

"Eijirou?" Bakugou mumbles, not really awake enough to register that he was not supposed to call him that.

Kirishima only looked more panicked as he heard his given name.

"Did...Did you hear anything that I was saying…?" He asked in a terrified whisper. Bakugou furrows his eyebrows, trying to piece together the words that he had heard. He shrugs and shakes his head.

"Somethin about like, flying and memories or whatever," Bakugou growls casually before he tenses, the words sinking in.

"Kirishima, what were you talking about?" He asks, voice serious as he stares down the increasingly panicking boy. He was still in his hero costume, sans the mask, baring his anxious expression to Bakugou. He shifted his eyes and let out a nervous laugh.

"Oh, um, nothing, man. Just forget it," He says dismissively before leaning forward in his chair, attempting to cover his expression with worry for his friend, "How are you, though? You lost control back there, dude. As soon as Mr. Aizawa erased your quirk, you passed out. I thought you were gonna kill me."

Bakugou snarls at the accusation, "Looks like I failed."

Kirishima lets out a small chuckle, "I know you don't mean that."

Bakugou glances to the side briefly, choosing not to confirm or deny the truth of the statement.

Instead, he said, "You didn't answer my question, shitty hair."

Kirishima bites his lip and leans back in his seat, fiddling with his hands. With a sigh, he starts, "Do you believe in reincarnation?"

The word sends a cold shock rushing through Bakugou's bones. Reincarnation. Past lives. Dragon. Wings. Daggers. Armor. Flying. All these complicated flashes now seem like they were stupidly simple. Memories of a life that was lived and died. Bakugou lets the question sit. He is still registering why Kirishima would ask it until he speaks up again.

"I don't want to sound crazy and I promise you I'm not, but I've been having these really weird dreams that make no sense but they seem so real and I think that they're memories. Like. From another life!" He pauses, the wonder of speaking about it turning into shyness as he looks down at the sheets on the bed, "And, uh, you're in a lot of them. I was so worried when you passed out and I kept getting the memories while I was waiting for you to wake up so I just started saying what was happening in my head."

Bakugou was stunned. Kirishima was experiencing the same flashbacks that he was. He wasn't as alone as he thought. But that doesn't mean that Kirishima's memories came with the emotions that Bakugou had been feeling. He stares down at his lap, still in his hero costume as well. The feeling that he wasn't alone had slowly started to unravel a feeling of hope in his chest that maybe this life could be like his past one.

He hated that feeling. He just wanted confirmation or rejection. As long as this was over.

"Bakugou?" Kirishima chokes out through his nervousness, "Please say something, man. Tell me I'm not crazy."

A long pause as Bakugou keeps his eyes on his lap.

Fuck it.

"Katsuki," Bakugou finally whispers, barely audible.

"What?" Came a strangled question.

Bakugou lifts his head to meet Kirishima's bewildered eyes just a few inches away from him.

"Katsuki," He says, voice hard and eyes searching, "You used to call me Katsuki."

Kirishima's mouth hangs open as his eyes flicker around Bakugou's face. His breathing quickens before a grin stretches across his face. He rushes forward to sit on the bed and his hands come up to cup Bakugou's cheeks.

"You… You remember?"

Bakugou nods shakily.

"Everything?"

Another nod. Their proximity was dizzying and the hands on his face were keeping him grounded as his heart raced against his chest. Bakugou couldn't help looking from Kirishima's eyes, which were filling with tears, to his lips. There was nothing more than he wanted than to close the space between them. Thankfully, he didn't have to ask because Kirishima's lips were on his in a split second. His heart blossomed with a feeling that he only had glimpses of in his dreams. All the loss and death that came with his nightmares disappeared. It was overwhelming to finally have the person he lost with him again.

The kiss was soft and sweet, both of them savoring their reunion as much as they could. They poured as much emotion as possible as their lips danced across each other. Bakugou wrapped his arms around Kirishima's waist, wanting to feel him as close as he was able to. He could taste the salt from their tears and the metal from the blood drawn from Kirishima biting his lip. Despite this, the kiss was perfect and Bakugou was upset when they parted, needing to catch their breaths.

Kirishima lay his forehead against Bakugou's, panting with swollen red lips and equally swollen red eyes. The redhead brushed his thumb across the other boy's cheeks wiping away his tears. Bakugou stared at Kirishima's eyes, absolutely entranced at how in the world his crazy past few weeks ended up in the best possible scenario. He couldn't believe it. He expected to wake up at any moment from an exhaustion-induced coma.

But this was real. He could feel the swelling in his chest and the other boys' breath on his face. Bakugou couldn't help but grin like a maniac.

"So, do you miss the wings or what?"

Kirishima stared at him for a second before letting out a snort, face scrunching up in a rambunctious laugh as he punches Bakugou on the shoulder. He leans backwards as he laughs uncontrollably, but is stopped from falling off the bed by Bakugou's arms still wrapped around him.

"Dude, of course I miss them! Being a dragon was so much fun!" He finally manages to reply once his laughter subsided.

"The scales were definitely an improvement to that ugly mug of yours," Bakugou retorts, earning him an indignant look.

"You're one to talk! You had a cape! With fur! It was so gaudy but so you!" Kirishima defends, hooking his arms around the back of Bakugou's neck.

Bakugou just rolls his eyes and lays back down on the bed, pulling Kirishima down with him. As they lay there, Bakugou felt weightless. All the worry and confusion from the past was gone and as he felt Kirishima's heart beating against his own, he slipped into the most calming sleep he could have ever asked for.