Kirishima Ejiro had never been a boy to bother about sunny mornings, but when he woke up on that fateful day, something immediately seemed wrong. He put both hands over his eyes in the hope that they would protect him from the cruel light that entered the room without mercy, but he soon noticed something much more uncomfortable: the unusual heat. What the hell had happened to the air conditioner? At great cost, he moved one hand in search of the device controller, finding, however, a body hot like ember beside him. Ejiro opened his eyes hoping that he was being betrayed by his touch, but was faced with visual confirmation of his fear, a half-naked Bakugo lying serenely asleep. He felt his very soul left his body as the memories of the previous night arrived like a punch - It wasn't a dream this time.

Kirishima started to sweat, afflicted by the feelings bubbling inside him. Confused, he took a moment to identify what was the source of that sensation, only to discover he was feeling… happy?

The funny thing about happiness is that although it makes you feel great, it also feeds you with insecurities and fear of losing it. It is a tricky thing because, as humans, we are not taught how to let it go. Instead, we hold onto it and then turn our most pleasant sensation into the focus of our anxiety. And it was exactly what he did.

Feeling the urge to leave, Ejiro slid out of bed and started to gather his clothes in the mess they made on the floor the night before. As flashbacks returned to his mind like a movie, he smiled. Another thing about happiness, you see, is that even with the irrational fear of losing it, it's still worth the sacrifices we do. Thank God Bakugou is a heavy sleeper, he thought as he tiptoed to the exit. He took one last look at Katsuki, who was resting peacefully on the bed before closing the door behind him.

Perhaps this is what they call love.

Katsuki woke up shortly after. He looked at the empty pillow beside him and immediately remembered that it shouldn't be that empty. Took a few seconds and a quick search through the room to realize neither the redhead or his clothes were there. He felt his stomach ache, in a mix of treason and loneliness. He traced his fingers through his hair, in a desperate attempt of comforting himself, unconsciously searching for the touch he wanted to feel. He scoffed at his own delusion, knowing he was the one to blame, first of all, because he let himself be vulnerable, and because one more time he was able to fuck up the only good thing in his life. He still wasn't sure how he did it, but he was absolutely, positively sure he did it.

Bakugou remembered the laughter of the redhead boy. And how Kirishima cried when he looked him in the eye and kissed him. That moment. That was the very moment when he fell. But it didn't last long for when the morning came Kirishima wasn't there. The boy tried to remember anything he could have done wrong to spook away the redhead, but the last memory he had before falling asleep was Ejiro's warm smile and his big crimson eyes looking at him as a puppy. The flashback made his blood boil like lava in his veins.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, FUCK!

Katsuki clenched his fists. Salty big tears started to fall, making him bite his lip to contain a painful scream of agony inside him. A mix of his tears and blood filled his mouth making him even more pissed. He knew eventually something like that would happen. His mom's screams echoed his mind, her voice constantly stressing how he would end up alone if he couldn't manage to cut out that attitude of his. But little did she knew, he already was.

The golden boy, always surrounded by people. And yet, he never felt connected to someone at all. Wasn't that the concept of loneliness, being in a room full of people and still feel like shit? Anyway, how could he tell his mom the reason he didn't know how to give or accept love properly was that growing up he couldn't feel safe to open up in his own house? How could she not see her explosive temper in him? If loving someone was anything like what happened inside that hellhole his mother liked to call home, Katsuki was fine by himself.

Until he wasn't.

Her being right hurt. It made him bit his lip harder, and suddenly, what started as a way to suppress his urge to scream, unfolded as a relief to his heartache. The taste of his blood, that first sickened him, became the only thing holding his sanity in place. He watched the red drops fall slowly on the sheets, his favorite color spreading in a shapeless wet stain.

Perhaps this is what they call love