Chapter Text
A voice in his head had told him that this wouldn’t work out.
It told him that he was abnormal and strange, and trying to have any kind of relationship at this point would be like piloting a spacecraft with no one in the control room.
Maybe, just maybe, Bakugou had only wanted to spite that voice by agreeing to date Kirishima. Still, he couldn’t help but feel that that wasn’t the whole picture.
After all, there was a nagging feeling in the back of his head telling him that Kirishima could make anything work. This feeling was present and constant, just as annoyingly persistent as the redhead himself.
From lifting weights to making friends—everything Kirishima did, he seemed to do effortlessly.
And of course, he was making this dating thing work too, despite the whole no-touching thing.
Bakugou had dated in the past before—not much, but a couple of times in high school. Usually it was someone who approached him out of admiration, fawned over him for a few weeks, and then broke it off, saying it wasn’t working out.
He expected it to go the same way here too, especially once Kirishima saw how much of a walking inconvenience he was with his weird aversion of touch.
It wasn’t as if Bakugou hadn’t made efforts to keep relationships going in the past, but apparently, he was pretty bad at it. He never agreed to date anyone he didn’t respect at the very least, but respect wasn’t enough for people—most couples obsessed over flowers and chocolates and mushy gushy dates. These were standard, expected, and nothing that Bakugou was comfortable with.
Maybe he should’ve thought about that before deciding to try with Kirishima.
Except, unlike most people, the redhead didn’t seem to mind the lack of stereotypical romantic activities, much less the unspoken no-touching rule. He smiled idiotically, keeping his distance as promised but still managing to steal the breath from Bakugou’s lungs.
Today was no exception.
“Here,” Kirishima said when Bakugou visited him at the nutrition shop after a workout. He tossed something in his direction that wasn’t a water bottle or protein drink. Bakugou caught the light object in his hand easily.
“What’s this.”
“A cup, duh,” Kirishima laughed, waving a paper cup identical to the one Bakugou grabbed.
“I can see that,” Bakugou huffed, preparing to chuck it back at the idiot’s face. “I mean, why the fuck—”
“So that I can take your order, silly,” Kirishima grinned, putting the cup to his mouth to speak into it. There was a string attached to the bottom of it that connected to the one in Bakugou’s hand. “Hello, is my boyfriend there?”
Bakugou snorted. “What the hell, Kirishima, that’s stupid as fuck, I’m right here.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you—” Kirishima hummed, holding the cup to his ear. “Are you near your phone right now?”
Bakugou bit back a laugh, rolling his eyes. He lifted the cup to his lips. “Yes, I’d like to get a refund. The boyfriend I ordered is too stupid—I want a new one.”
“Hey!” Kirishima laughed, pulling back to pout at Bakugou. “Don’t be mean!”
“Sorry, I can’t hear you, are you near your phone right now?” Bakugou smirked.
Kirishima chuckled, seemingly unbothered by the teasing. The two of them stared at each other, now at some kind of unspoken standstill. Bakugou wondered if he should just drop the cup and leave for work.
Instead of responding vocally, Kirishima looked down at the paper cup in his hands and tapped thoughtfully along its edges. Something in the atmosphere changed as the light sensations from the action reached Bakugou. Tap, tap , tap. The blonde felt himself getting lost in the delicate connectedness they’d formed through a flimsy yarn string.
It was a little surreal. Was he dissociating?
“Is this okay?”
“What?” Bakugou breathed. He felt that if he were to raise his voice any higher, it would break the out-of-body experience.
“Can you feel me?” Kirishima said again, voice barely over a whisper. He smiled, and it was really too soft for Bakugou to handle right now. “It’s like morse code.”
“Morse…?”
“I’m tapping, ‘I love you,’” Kirishima laughed lightly.
Bakugou blushed. That was the final straw. He flung his cup at Kirishima’s face, watching the redhead scramble to catch it.
“You’re being ridiculous,” Bakugou growled, ignoring the way heat spread through his cheeks. He made a beeline for the exit, heart racing at a hundred miles an hour.
“Wait, Bakugou,” Kirishima said behind him. And, try as he might, Bakugou couldn’t help but freeze in the doorway before looking back at his boyfriend, trying to look as passive as he could despite the warmth in his face.
“What,” Bakugou murmured. “I don’t have time to play games.”
“But, do you have time for a drink?” Kirishima grinned, brandishing Bakugou’s favorite protein shake in his hand.
Bakugou fought back the feeling of affection growing in his chest as he walked back to grab the drink from Kirishima. His boyfriend had left it at the edge of the counter and stepped away, allowing Bakugou to get it without fear of touching anyone else.
And despite the warning bells in Bakugou’s head that screamed run, he had a brief second where he wished he could have felt Kirishima’s fingers brush against his. A moment where he wished that the handoff was more hands-on, and not just something that had so much distance to it.
As Bakugou called for a taxi outside, he could’ve sworn he felt the light tapping sensations on his fingers still. It was a foreign feeling, but not entirely unwelcome. He clenched and unclenched his fist, feeling his skin tingle with the motion.
Tap, tap , tap, he felt.
Thump, thump , his heart warned.
And for the first time in a long time, Bakugou felt very, very alone.
In the few weeks Bakugou had been dating Kirishima, he found that the redhead never pushed for anything. No matter what.
Even when they went on dates together and there was another couple sitting a few tables away, brushing hands, knocking knees, and all up in each other's faces, Kirishima would stare for a moment too long before refocusing his attention back to Bakugou.
Despite this ridiculous amount of willpower that Kirishima had in keeping his hands to himself, Bakugou could see the want in his eyes in every move he made, in every unspoken word, in the stiffness held as a constant in his shoulders. But still, he didn't budge.
It’s like that man didn’t have a single selfish bone in his body.
Yet, it was clear to Bakugou that the redhead's number one love language was touch. It came as naturally to him as it did for Bakugou to excel at everything he set his mind to.
Well, everything but touching others, apparently.
That too, he's sure he can do if he just tried hard enough. If he wanted it enough.
But the question was, does he want it enough?
Apparently, he did if Kaminari was around.
This guy was apparently Kirishima's best friend and although Bakugou had seen him around a few times, nothing really compared to seeing him today.
The three of them were hanging out at a mall plaza on a nice Saturday afternoon. Bakugou didn't have work today and Kirishima had ended early so they were sitting at some benches together when Kirishima got a call. Apparently, Kaminari had an emergency and needed to talk to someone as soon as possible so after asking Bakugou if it was okay, Kirishima had invited him to join them on their impromptu outing.
And now, Kaminari was draping himself over Kirishima as if this was their every day. He was whining about something, some girl who he liked but didn't have the courage to ask out but all Bakugou could hear was the roar of the bustling people around them.
He couldn't quite place what he was feeling in the moment, watching this scene so closely—the image of Kirishima patting his friend on the head, letting Kaminari crawl all over him and whimper into his ear. How Kaminari tugged at the front of his shirt, smacked Kirishima on the shoulder, and got all into his space and how Kirishima just took it all in stride, offering friendly touches back.
Bakugou wondered if he was jealous.
No, that wasn’t it. More than jealousy, this felt like annoyance.
He was annoyed at himself.
He didn't know why though. Speaking frankly, he had no real reason to be annoyed with himself. He was at his prime in both his career and his health. He was the top of his high school class, the top of his astronaut crew, and quite frankly, always literally and figuratively at the top of the world. He excelled at everything he set out to do.
And yet, maybe that was why he was annoyed. Despite being great at most things, this was the one thing that had eluded him and it was a great example of everything Bakugou wasn't doing with his boyfriend—touching, feeling, and just literally being there by his side, physically.
It pissed him off.
He thought he'd done enough, overcoming his fear of crowded places by coming here with Kirishima. Deciding to date just so he could prove a point to not only the redhead, but himself as well. Slowly but steadily improving on this age-old habit that had become such a defining part of his life.
Crippling part of his life, his brain supplied helpfully.
He didn't say much for the rest of the time Kaminari was with them. Apparently, the dunce had wanted relationship advice for his recent failed flirting attempt and Kirishima was the only one who would lend him an ear. Bakugou didn't really have much to add anyways when his own relationship with Kirishima was constantly on the rocks with him being like this.
Abnormal, and all.
It wasn’t like he didn’t get along with Kaminari in the past, but he didn’t particularly go out of his way to chat him up either. When Kaminari had first met Bakugou, he had immediately gone for a fist bump which Bakugou had blatantly ignored. He was afraid that Kaminari would insist, but the blonde only frowned, whispering a 'what's wrong with him?' to Kirishima before giving it up.
Since then, he'd more or less kept his distance, though sometimes Bakugou thinks that Kaminari is too physically close to him and doesn't even realize it himself.
What, with him being an idiot and all.
As they sent said idiot off at the station, Bakugou wondered how Kirishima would react if he initiated any kind of physical contact. He watched as his bright-eyed and toothy-grinned boyfriend waved energetically to a Kaminari who probably couldn’t even see them anymore.
Something tight settled into his chest upon seeing that smile. It was a feeling that he couldn’t quite place—some mix of adoration and sadness, but the realization only confused him.
He had no reason to be sad. What happened to cause his feeling of touch to go haywire wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t.
But he didn’t want this to hurt Kirishima too.
Bakugou didn’t know exactly when he’d started to feel like this. At first, he anticipated Kirishima to be the one to cut it off after realizing that romance was going to be impossible. He’d be apologetic at first, but Bakugou would’ve understood. They would’ve parted ways with no hard feelings and go about their own lives, potentially staying as friends in the best-case scenario.
But Kirishima had become such a constant in his life and Bakugou wasn’t sure when that had happened.
Their relationship, even overlooking romance, was a strange one. For all intents and purposes, Bakugou shouldn’t have even given Kirishima so much as a side glance. Bakugou was better than him in every sense of the word, from small accomplishments to large accolades, and Kirishima should have been nothing more than yet another side character in his story.
Except, Kirishima filled some kind of hole in his life he didn’t know that he had.
He remembered the many days where he couldn’t let go of his phone because he was anticipating a text from Kirishima and the countless nights where they’d stay up talking too long about nothing that should have mattered, like his exasperation with his students and whatever Kirishima wanted to share that day because to be honest, there was a fuckton .
Yet, Bakugou was willing to shave off an hour or two of sleep just to listen to his boyfriend’s voice.
He kind of hated it, making compromises without thinking much of it. Yet as the days melted into weeks, he had to come to accept the hard truth.
Kirishima was his only exception and he was willing to make compromises for him.
Bakugou remembered that time in the nutrition shop with the silly paper cups, how that sensation had felt, tingling along his skin. Kirishima had brought them back a couple times after that, but only for dumb things like asking Bakugou what he wanted to drink and informing him of sales that were happening. As if Kirishima didn’t already know what Bakugou usually got and that the blonde could clearly see the signs plastered over the merchandise announcing a sale.
But Bakugou suspects that maybe Kirishima used that stupid children’s toy to bridge some kind of unspoken gap between them. A gap that wasn’t being met by Bakugou, and a gap that was glaringly getting larger, crumbling around Bakugou’s feet and driving him back from others.
He mildly wondered if Kirishima would be happy if they didn’t need that flimsy yarn string between them anymore.
Probably.
God, he was being fucking pathetic.
The two of them had started walking back from the station, two arms-length apart as per their usual. Kirishima was in front of him, talking about how nice of a time he had and how he was really glad Bakugou had agreed to come, despite Kaminari joining their outing. Bakugou half-listened in, mostly just staring at the way that Kirishima’s scarred hands moved as he walked forward.
Kirishima’s hands were calloused and rough, but Bakugou wanted nothing more than to feel them tap, tap, tapping against his own skin.
Yet, despite these desires, Bakugou knew he simultaneously wanted to run away as far as possible so as to escape from not only Kirishima, but from every other person who has ever existed. Because as long as they were here, as long as they were in public, walking home together, there was always a chance that he’d make contact with someone else. If he couldn’t even brush past some strangers, how could he expect himself to intentionally touch someone he knew? Even though he wanted to, he wasn’t sure if he could—if he was physically able to.
But, now was his chance to see.
They were in the midst of a bustling crowd and he was already feeling hyper aware of the people around him. He was close to Kirishima and could bridge the distance between them with just a few extra steps.
At the mere thought, he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Thump, thump , thump. A buzz in his ears.
It was too much, his brain cried. You’re not ready, his mind yelled.
Shut up , he thought, just as fiercely.
If he was already feeling overstimulated from the people around them, then a little more wouldn’t be enough to push him over. He’d prove a point, just like how he had told that voice in his head to be quiet when Kirishima had first asked him out.
Bakugou reached forward and with shaky, uncertain hands, let the tips of his fingers touch Kirishima's hands.
Kirishima flinched away immediately, eyes wide and alarmed. He put some distance between them, arms rigid at his sides and hands up in defense.
Time seemed to stand still. Bakugou didn't think he was breathing. His arm was suspended in the air where Kirishima last was, before the redhead had leaped aside.
"Bakugou, I'm so sorry, are you okay?!" Kirishima was saying and Bakugou could barely hear, he could barely hear it because it was too loud. His head was too loud, his hands were too loud, shaking too violent.
"Fine," Bakugou grit out, forcing his heart to pump at regular intervals. One breath in, one breath out. Everything is fine. It's just holding hands. It's just holding hands.
His hands shook. He couldn’t lower his arm.
Kirishima took one look at him before cautiously stepping further back. Bakugou nearly forced himself to chase after him, but he couldn't find the strength. He was frozen in place. It was all he could to keep from falling apart where he stood.
"Bakugou, I... I told you I don't need it," Kirishima smiled gently, making the pit of guilt grow in Bakugou's stomach. "I'm happy just being with you. No touching needed."
Yeah, but you'd be happier if we did touch, Bakugou thought, bitterly. His fingers felt like they'd been stabbed by holding onto a cactus for too long. And no, not just the gentle way gardeners carried cacti, but the way it would feel if he had wrapped his entire hand around a cactus and squeezed as hard as he could. But he knew Kirishima's hands didn’t feel like that. There was no way those hands from such a kind, thoughtful person could be that prickly, it was all in his head.
He knew they weren’t like that.
But did he know?
He took a shaky breath and his lungs burned. "I was fine."
Kirishima frowned this time. "No, you weren't."
Bakugou felt feeling return to his legs. His hands still weren't quite there yet. "I was."
"I don't want to force you to do anything you don't want to do, man."
"You weren't," Bakugou stated because it was a fact. He wanted to do it by himself.
"You didn't feel like you needed to? Because of how much I like physical touch?" Kirishima asked, question innocent but cutting Bakugou to the core.
"No," Bakugou rasped, fighting the urge to vomit now. A mix of anger and shame threatened to drown him, but he forcefully swallowed it. “I want to. I can.”
It was only when Kirishima went silent that he noticed his breathing was labored.
"Okay," Kirishima said after a beat. He took a deep breath, then looked down at Bakugou's hands. Bakugou hoped they weren't shaking. "I don't want it."
"What?"
"I don't want you to touch me," Kirishima repeated, looking back up into his eyes. "Is that okay?"
Bakugou blinked. He felt as if he’d lost control of the spaceship that was his body and it was now hurtling towards earth, gravity crushing him, pulling him down with no escape.
Kirishima didn't want it. He didn't want it because he could clearly see how messed up it was making him and so he didn't want it because he was thinking of Bakugou, but all this could be fixed if he were just somewhat normal and able to just fucking —
"Okay," Bakugou found himself blurting out, disappointment and relief simultaneously tearing up his insides. He forced a smile, but it felt distant from his face. “Yeah, that’s okay.”