Cover Art by: Ambarsenpai (Twitter)

"Pain can be a powerful memory, but it does not need to control how you live your life. Mental and physical scars don't define you."

A/N: TRIGGER WARNING (MENTAL ILLNESS)
Thank you to EVERY SINGLE READER! The silent reader, the commenters, the followers, and everyone in between. You all have been so patient with me! I have been really going through the ringer the past few years. I have been uninspired and all too inspired all at once. I've been unhappy with my writing and with myself. I struggle with mental illness, as a lot of others do. I can finally say that I've written a part of me in my story. Feel free to talk to me about your struggles, mental health related or not. I'm here for you all! I love you!

***

Kirishima woke with a start, sweaty and out of breath. He clutches at his bare chest, the thick but soft hairs curled from his pores and around his fingers. Kirishima mentally recited the words that brought him to consciousness again, "Pain is a powerful memory, but it does not need to control how you live your life. Mental and physical scars don't define you."

He groans slightly in frustration, followed by a soft "Yeah yeah yeah, I fuckin' know", as he swings the comforter off his lower half. The boxer briefs had risen upon his right leg, not that it bothered him too much, but he did fix them just enough to not feel the roll of the fabric in his crotch before turning around to see the tufts of blonde poking out from the other side of the queen-sized bed. His angelic face buried under the warm, soft comfort. 
Kirishima smiled warmly at the figure under said comfort before turning toward the door. Leaving the door left open just a crack strategically. 

Faint sizzling sounds invaded Bakugou's ears before the smell aroused his interest. "Bacon?" A groggy, disheveled Bakugou uttered under his breath. The sudden realization of the time, 9:23 AM, might as well have been yelling at him in glowing red numbers on the bedside table. This is not an unusual way for Bakugou to wake up, however, the fact that it was Saturday, finally donned on him while he frantically tugged yesterday's jeans halfway up his thighs. Bakugou decided it wasn't worth taking them back off, although, a shirt would be too much trouble, especially considering there was an alluring smell of bacon calling to him from the 'great beyond', aka the kitchen. 

The kitchen was certainly something Bakugou had very little knowledge about. He could grill a steak and call that a meal but what he walked into, to him, was spectacular. Kirishima could cook.

"Mornin', sunshine", chuckled Kirishima. Kirishima peeked up from the omelet he had flipped over with skill. Bakugou admired Kirishima's smile, something deep inside him stirred, again, when Kirishima gently nibbled his lip ring.

"Mornin' to you too." Bakugou was glad he decided to leave the jeans on as that 'something' inside him physically manifested. 

The clanking pans and scrapes from the spatula filled the comfortable silence between them. Kirishima thought about last night's 'slumber party' with his boyfriend. He hoped his usual nightmares didn't wake Bakugou. Kirishima put an extra slice of bacon on Bakugou's plate, debating with his mind about whether he should open up about his past. He decided that it wasn't right to ruin the carefully prepared meal for his man. Later, he thought, placing two mugs of coffee next to the plates at the table.

The two set out for some window shopping together. Bakugou was quick to hold Kirishima's hand when they got to the strip mall, and Kirishima only hesitated for a moment before latching on tightly. There were families and friends strewn in clumps around the mall, laughing and lounging. Some eating, others simply walking hand in hand like the two boys. There was a lot of commotion, not much going on though. Kirishima was mostly at peace, only mildly worried. Crowds hold a certain danger for him. A danger only he let himself know. A danger he never wanted the sunshine walking next to him to see affect him. Kirishima remained stone-faced, as per usual. 
'Keep your shit together', Kirishima prematurely scolded himself in his mind. 

The day was almost as bright as Bakugou's smile and Kirishima couldn't be happier to see that smile warp around the way too big Boba straw, as his little blonde bastard sucked in the sweet Thai tea. Unfortunately, not even 50 ft from the boys, a booming male voice was heard. Kirishima's heart froze mid beat. His skin grew clammy and cold. He could feel the sweat seep from his pores as his mind separated from his consciousness. Kirishima's breathing became ragged and shallow. Fear. It was the danger. He was having another panic attack. He was aware and unable to communicate his needs, instead sharply inhaling and struggling to breathe instead. 

Somehow Bakugou understood the situation, even though he's never seen one. He didn't need an explanation about the trigger or exactly what to do per se, but he certainly knew that it wasn't a safe place for Kirishima. 

Bakugou reached his arm around Kirishima gingerly, easily swatting away Kirishima's frantic hand motions, and got him to his feet. They walked around the corner and into a bathroom stall. Bakugou wet some paper towels and pat Kirishima's glistening face with care. Kirishima hugged his waist delicately, his muscles contracted rapidly. He was shaking so much. Bakugou used his free hand to run his fingers up and down the length of his back, circling his neck. 
"Shhhh, it's alright now," Bakugou whispers repeatedly. 

Kirishima's breathing stabilizes, his muscles relax, and he is exhausted. He wants to tell Bakugou about what happened. He wants to share everything. Right now isn't the time but he knows Bakugou cares. Kirishima knows he will talk when he's ready to finally tell someone.

'It isn't easy telling your boyfriend about your shitty dad and his fucked up child-rearing ways. It's never easy to talk about an abuser. One day. Opening up to others, especially that fuckin cute blonde bastard, might not be so fuckin bad after all'