Chapter Text
A week shouldn’t last that long.
It’s just seven days. Easy!
Yet it had taken months for just the first four days to drag by.
Shit, Bakugo frowned as he perched on the roof of a building on his patrol route.
It was a slow day. Ergo, he had a lot of time to think. Thus, he was stuck with Kirishima on his mind the whole damn time.
Bakugo smelled the tape before Cellophane swung up to his building and smoothly sat next to Bakugo on his perch.
Cellophane flicked his visor up to reveal Sero’s grin. “Heyy, Dynamight,” he said lazily. “Don’t see you sitting around like this! Somethin’ on your mind!”
“Fuck off,” Bakugo grunted. “You’re way off course from your zone. Get back to work.”
“I was making my way over there after a villain attack nearby when I saw. Thought I’d swing by and say hi,” he shrugged. “And something's definitely up.”
Bakugo huffed. “Can’t a guy have a minute of peace without some soy-sauce face bothering him?” he complained. “Get back to work!”
“Nahhh. I think bothering you a little more is gonna be worth it,” Sero tilted his head. “Let’s see. You already got Midoriya his suit, so it’s not that. It’s not even the fact that you’re falling behind, because you’re really close to over taking his spot. Your agency is doing fine, too.”
Why does this guy feel the need to dissect my thoughts right here, right now? Bakugo glared at Sero as he kept yapping.
“Plus, it’s not like it’s a friend issue, either, unless Ashido’s been keeping me in the dark about the tea—” Sero froze, a revelation striking him. “Oh. I heard Kirishima’s out at Sendai. Is that why you’re so mopey?”
Bakugo just offered him a (totally innocuous) blast to the face. “I said get back to work!” he barked. “I’m fine!”
“Okay, okay!” Sero raised his hands and stood up. “You know, he’s literally your best friend! You can totally just call him if you want to talk to him!” Then, not risking another explosion to his face, he leaped off the roof, tape shooting out of his elbows.
As Sero left, Bakugo felt his shoulders relax (when had they even tensed up?).
Call him? Bakugo looked down at the street dozens of stories below his boots. I don’t initiate shit like that. He’s gonna get the wrong idea.
Our friendship’s fucked, Bakugo realized. Because we fuck.
From my point, at least. It’s never physical for me. Kirishima’s been normal as always. He couldn’t care less about the fact that we broke up or that we’re fucking and none of our friends know.
He dragged a hand down his face. It’s a me problem, huh? I’m the issue here.
A gnawing feeling arose from the pits of his stomach and Bakugo felt his chest tighten ever so slightly.
I can’t get over my fucking feelings for my ex like a clingy weakling and now I’m screwing up our friendship over it.
But Kirishima’s also in on it, a slithering voice whispered in the back of his mind. He agrees to fuck you like a horny dog every time you bring it up and he likes it and you know he does and maybe he just sees you as just a friend he can put his dick in and you like it too because you think he’ll see you the same way if you just keep this up but you know it won’t because you’re just a weak little bitch who always always always lets his emotions get in the way and you’re ruining HIS life too—
“FUCK!” Bakugo roared as he pushed himself off the building and let himself fall through the air, drowning the thoughts with the whistling of the wind in the air. He propelled himself through the air with his Quirk, focusing on the sound of explosions and the heat in his hands rather than the spiraling whirlpool his mind kept trying to drag him towards.
Just gotta fight. Keep myself busy. It always works. I’m a hero above anything else. While I was off moping people could’ve died or gotten hurt all because of me like All Might—
Bakugo narrowly avoided an antennae pole.
…Just fight. His eyes narrowed on a thief tugging at the purse of a lady near an alleyway and he dove down.
That’s all you’re good for, anyway.
***
The porcelain of the sink was cold under Bakugo’s hands.
He gripped it tightly as his jaw clenched hard enough that his teeth squeaked against each other and his face began to vibrate from the sheer effort.
There was a burning ball of magma in his throat that took all of his effort to bite back and keep from spewing up into another bout of hot tears.
The previous round was currently drying on his cheeks into a tight film that he hated the sensation of but couldn’t bear to touch, lest he risk spilling more.
Damn it, he cursed. He tried his best to avoid eyes with his reflection, forcing himself to look down into the sink drain.
Even after all this fucking time I’m still a fucking crybaby, huh?
I can’t do anything with my feelings without bawling my shit out like I’m fighting Izuku again.
Why can I get my heart almost ripped out of my chest when I was 17 and walk it off after fighting the worst villain in history but get my heart broken at 26 and lose half my water weight in tears?
His phone lit up with a notification. Some stupid hero news thing in Sendai. Bakugo took the opportunity to check the time
11:31 pm.
Much past his usual bedtime of 11pm.
Look at you, his mind whispered to him. You’re spiraling over nothing. Your routine is cracking because you can’t get your stupid mind off of Kirishima like every one of his words and actions are playing on loop just like how it was in Camino and why are you even likening your ex to the death of the Symbol of Peace you piece of shit?
God, I hate logic. He peeked up at the mirror. His eyes were rimmed red as if they were threatening to burst with red riots of blood and his jaw was jutted out and he hate how it reminded him of that stupid mask that he always wore.
Bakugo had always prided himself on his rationality— despite his outward appearances, he prioritized the logical choice over nearly everything else. Wasn’t it because he was some stupid ENTJ Thinking type that Mina had forced him to take a stupid online test for?
Wait. Sendai?
His hands suddenly flew out and grabbed his phone, his fingers flying almost frantically over the screen to go to the article.
{Sendai Daily News}: [PRO HERO RED RIOT RESCUES 4TH GRADE CLASSROOM FROM VILLAIN ATTACK, NO CASUALTIES]
[Earlier today in Sendai, pro Hero Red Riot, who had come from Musutafu for a mission, successfully rescued an entire 4th grade classroom at Asahi Elementary School after a villain unleashed an explosive in a nearby convenience store than toppled several support beams within the building… (click to read more)]
Bakugo paused over the picture of Kirishima standing up and grinning despite being covered in a light coating of dust and slicked sweat that glistened in the sun. A young child was hanging off one of his arms and another was grabbing at his belt with a smile. There was a slight cut right under his left eye that Bakugo felt himself wanting to brush his thumb over but could only swipe over the few pixels on the screen.
He’s doing fine, Bakugo noted to himself. He kept saying that he wanted to get a break out of the city. He’s doing the last part, at least.
He looked at his reflection and then at the picture with that vibrant grin and sunny presence that could practically make his own Quirk activate just by being near it.
I’m spiraling, he admitted quietly to himself as he kept staring at the picture. It’s all playing in my head like a broken record and I can’t stop thinking about it.
Bakugo’s body ached for movement. A resolution. Something tangible that he could grapple with his hands and declare victory over.
But he couldn’t fight anyone — that was clearly off the table, especially since the person on the other side of the problem wasn’t here.
And it wasn’t like he could have sex, either, for the same aforementioned reason.
His phone buzzed again. This time, a message from his own agency; one of his secretaries.
[Good evening, Dynamight. Apologies for the late email. I’ve received a report from the HPSC about your performance for the past month. While such a document is not unusual, I wanted to inform you that the HPSC has observed drops in your overall performance. Nothing alarming, but just in case you wanted access to the report, here it is.]
[See attached file]
What the fuck?
Bakugo clicked the file, skimming through the usual jargon before his eyes landed on a graph mapping the cases he’d solved in the past week versus his performance for the previous week and his usual average.
Standard procedure.
Just a statistical evaluation of one’s performance.
And what a bright red, negative-slope evaluation it was.
There was a small summary at the bottom that his eyes snapped towards.
{Average Cases Solved per Week (ACS/W) for Week of X/XX (Previous Week): 153 [Grade
{ACS/W for Week of Y/YY: 102 (-33.3%)]
Shit.
His fingers gripped his phone, the numbers and words blurring together into masses of pixels.
I’ve been distracted.
Because of him.
It’s all my fault. My stupid emotions are in my way. I haven’t been able to focus. I’ve been lax in my training. My body hurts. It’s dragging me down.
Love is dragging me down.
Bakugo paused and groaned as he tore a frustrated hand through his hair.
Love?
Like it is.
This could’ve died out so much longer ago.
I could’ve been in so much of a better place.
He felt himself sit down on the toilet lid, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.
When did it start going wrong?
Why am I like this?
How did I become burdened by this heavy weight in my heart?
I’m being dragged down by it.
Bakugo’s skin prickled in the cold air of the bathroom. It was as if he could feel the heaviness in his chest at that very moment, forcing his chest towards the ground as it became concave and empty with nothing but this useless, useless love for Kirishima that would go nowhere and force him to stay as stagnant as it was.
The distance between them had widened. Bakugo knew that for sure.
Every thrust, every hickey, every kiss filled with lust and sweat and saliva had only forced the two further apart.
When was the last time that they had genuinely hung out together?
When was the last time they had shared a laugh as friends without imagining the other naked in bed?
When was the last time they had looked at the other not as an object of affection of lust, but someone?
Bakugo rested his face in his hands, covering it as if it’d help with the reality.
And with every day that this goes on, the gap between me and everyone else in the world gets worse.
I’m falling behind.
And Kirishima’s what’s wrong with me.
This revelation wasn’t anything new, but Bakugo felt the thought stab through his mind all the same. He hooked his finger over the collar of his tank and pulled it away from his neck, trying to get breathing room in this tiny, tiny bathroom and in his spiraling, spiraling mind.
I’m losing a lover and a friend at the same time because of this stupid love of mine.
Because I care too fucking much.
His hand reached over to grab his phone once more, the cold weight in his heart suddenly transferring to the piece of metal. Bakugo pulled up Kirishima’s contact, eyes lingering on his contact photo for him.
It was a picture from when they were still at UA. Their 2nd year, probably. Somewhere in May. That’d explain the yellowish-warm lighting. It was taken near the main UA entrance, when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. Kirishima’s arm was slung around Bakugo’s shoulders like it was free real estate and Bakugo was slouched and scowling at whoever was taking the photo.
Bakugo forced himself to look away and hovered his thumb over the screen, impulsively scrolling through their most recent conversations.
Work. Hook up. Invitation to a group hangout. Hook up. Work. Hook up. Hook up. Hook up.
His thumbs began to type.
[Talk when you get back] (sent 11:37pm)
…
(read 11:37pm)
{Kirishima}: [ok]