Archive of Our Own

Bakugou rarely confides in him. However, when he does, it’s when they’re alone, and it’s something he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone else. Kirishima knows this, relishes in the fact really, because Bakugou Katsuki trusts him.

But. But. It always sends Kirishima through, like, four stages of anxiety when Bakugou tells him that he has something to talk about. Part of him thinks it’s because Bakugou Katsuki, lord of explosions and murders, is going to say something drastic that Kirishima will have to defuse like a (ha ha) bomb, and Kirishima doesn’t always have the right words. The other part of him knows it’s because of those feelings he’s pushed down into the depths of his stomach in order to keep their friendship just that. Friendship.

He tries his best. He really, really does, and for the most part it works. Bakugou has no idea, even on the days when Kirishima thinks he might be going just a liiiiittle overboard, that Kirishima has been nursing a crush.

Yeah. Bakugou rarely confides in him. When he does, it’s usually when they’re at Bakugou’s house in his room studying. Quiet times, when Bakugou’s doesn’t have to worry about Ashido or Sero or Kaminari being, in his own words, “Nosy motherfuckers.” When Bakugou can put his pencil down and know Kirishima will look up from his own homework to meet his eyes, and expect nothing but acceptance for whatever he’s about to tell him.

Like right now.

Kirishima sits up straighter against Bakugou’s bedroom wall, legs crossed on his best friends’ bed. He’s been expecting it, so Kirishima smiles at the blond and waits for Bakugou to address the situation, being whatever it is he needs to tell him.

Beside him, Bakugou is staring down at his homework. His brows are knit in frustration, but not because of the assignment. The innerworkings of his mind are piecing together a thought, a careful one where his words can’t be rough and coarse like the ones that he normally uses.

Bakugou sighs, edging a groan but not quite.

“Fuck,” he says, and Kirishima stifles a laugh. So maybe his innerworkings aren’t always as eloquent as Bakugou wants them to be. He’s got that pout, lower lip jutting out before a scowl can pull at the top. The same face he makes when he’s trying to be serious and careful. Kirishima knows it well. Knows it well… thinks it’s cute—

“What’s up, man?” Kirishima returns, giving Bakugou an opening.

Bakugou never takes the chance immediately. He never accepts any form of help, especially not when it comes to this kind of thing, so Kirishima continues to wait patiently.

This time, Bakugou does groan, “I just,” it’s so forced. Whatever this is must be hard for Bakugou to say. Most times, he says it after calculating how he wants to say it… “I…”

Kirishima hums. “You can tell me,” he tells him. Bakugou knows that, and that’s why Bakugou always does.

“Yeah,” says Bakugou. He blinks at his homework before turning his head to meet Kirishima’s eyes. “Feelings are stupid as shit.”

“Yeah?” Kirishima’s echoes as his stomach drops thirty feet. Their private talks never center around feelings. Not Bakugou’s at least. “They are. What’s up?” He repeats, hoping Bakugou takes it this time.

But Bakugou stalls. What is it? What is it? You can tell me, please, tell me. Kirishima’s fingers absently curl into Bakugou’s sheets.

“I like—” the world stills. He likes. Bakugou likes. Someone. Another person. Kirishima’s heart thuds in his chest while everything around him remains frozen in time.

It’s not that Bakugou was incapable of feeling something other than absolute distain for another person (Midoriya, the poor guy—), but this is far from what Kirishima was expecting. Who? Him? Please, Kirishima’s fist tightens in Bakugou’s sheets as his hopes rise way too high, say it’s me—

Bakugou punches his arm. “Fucking…say something.”

Reality fizzles back in and Kirishima blinks, speed resuming. Staring at Bakugou, he smiles widely in apology for having zoned the hell out during such an intimate moment. “What?”

Bakugou only looks a little annoyed. “God… I said I… no, y’know what, it’s fucking stupid. Doesn’t matter.” He tries to detour them, “what number are you on—”

“Noooo! No, no, no, no,” both panicked and frustrated at himself for letting his heart clog up his ears, Kirishima gestures about in a defensive manner until Bakugou starts glaring at him. “Tell me! I wanna know, forget homework for a sec.”

This pacifies Bakugou, his glare dissolving slightly, shoulders unhunching. “I like—I think I like Uraraka.”

Oh.

Suddenly, Kirishima wishes he could have been a bad friend for two seconds and allow them to let it go like Bakugou had wanted to.

“You… woah,” Kirishima laughs this time, if only to hide the disappointed, heartbroken wobble in his voice. “That’s cool. I’m happy for—”

“It’s stupid,” Bakugou says. “There’s no fucking reason for it. She’s always with fucking Deku, but I feel… gross when I see her.”

“Fuzzy?” Kirishima offers, using his own experiences.

“…Fuzzy.” Confirms Bakugou.

“Gross and fuzzy… yeah. Sums up a crush.”

“Fucking stupid.” Bakugou repeats himself.

Kirishima shrugs. “You can’t help what you feel, y’know?”

“Maybe you can’t,” Bakugou doesn’t have the glare to match his tone. “But this is just bullshit.”

Ouch. Kirishima feels himself deflate, but he just laughs again. “Sorry, man.” Then, against his better judgement because a good friend would ask, “how long?”

The silence that fills the space between them tells Kirishima that Bakugou has liked her long enough. Long enough that Bakugou has to think about it. Long enough to make Kirishima painfully aware of the ache in his chest.

“A while,” is Bakugou’s answer, confirming Kirishima’s suspicions. “I don’t know. Too long.”

Kirishima nods once. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Bakugou looks at him like he’s insane. “Nothing? Why would I do anything about it? I’ll die before I get into that damn mushy shit, fuck that.”

It’s a bit of a relief to hear Bakugou say that, even if Kirishima is selfish by thinking that. “Okay… so why’d you tell me if you’re not going to deal with it?”

The question almost offends Bakugou, Kirishima notes by the expression that melts back into a faux glare. Right, duh, because even if Bakugou would never say it out loud, Kirishima was his best friend. He comes to Kirishima when he needs someone to vent to. Because he trusts him, damn it.

Bakugou shrugs the question off after a few seconds of silence and turns back to his homework. “I guess I thought you’d have something useful to say about it.”

Maybe it would have been less painful if Bakugou had killed him instead.

“Sorry.”

“What number are you on?” Bakugou chooses not to dwell, so Kirishima accepts that the conversation is over.

“Seven.”

Kirishima hadn’t noticed before, but now it hits him in the face every time he looks up.

When he looks at Bakugou, Bakugou is looking at her. Well, that’s an exaggeration. Bakugou has his reputation to uphold and his secret to keep, but Kirishima sees it now that he knows the truth.

Class becomes so much more distracting knowing what he knows. Everyone else’s voices are drowned out, dull to his ears except for Bakugou’s, and now Uraraka’s, too. He’s searching for clues in the way they speak to others, rarely directly unless she’s saying something in defense of Midoriya and Bakugou fires back. Aizawa-Sensei is the one to defuse it as always in that tired, disinterested way of his. Afterwards though, Kirishima cuts a glance to Bakugou only to find him sizzling in his seat. Jealous. Of Midoriya. It makes so much sense.

Bakugou isn’t the only one that’s jealous.

There are days Kirishima feels nauseous when Uraraka walks into the classroom with that pleasant smile of hers, hands curled around her backpack straps as she finds her way to her seat not too far from his own. His only saving grace in all of this is that he sort of sits between her and Bakugou. He’s like a wall, obstructing Bakugou’s view of her just by existing, which is rewarding in its own sense.

Or, maybe he’s like a tollbooth. Forever in Bakugou’s way, because there’s a price to pay either way and Kirishima is still getting rewarded for being that annoying barrier.

There are other days when he feels angry, which he knows isn’t fair. It’s not her fault that Bakugou likes her. It’s not her fault she’s cute and nice and strong and everything anyone could ever want, probably.

It is her fault and Kirishima hates her. He’s angry that he hates her for being (un-)flawlessly likable in Bakugou’s eyes.

Kirishima is able to put his pettiness aside during lunch when he has to pretend he knows nothing about Bakugou’s emotions around the rest of their friends. It’s a little easier to ignore when it’s the five of them and he’s not alone and allowing himself to fester with his own thoughts. But a day comes when Ashido says something about the other girls gossiping about confessions, and Kirishima’s stomach drops instantly.

He looks at Bakugou from the corner of his eye to see if he’s got anything to say about it, relieved when nothing comes.

“Yaomomo was—was gushing like a mother hen,” says Ashido, leaning most of her weight onto Kaminari to keep him from interrupting her. “She said that Hagakure-chan asked her how to write a confession letter and if those were even relevant anymore because she—” she lowers her voice as if it matters at this point, “—likes Ojiroooooo.” Then she’s back to her regular volume, as expected. “How cute, right?”

“I dunno, I think it would be sorta terrifying to see a confession letter floating towards you…” responds Kaminari with a shrug.

“Well lucky for you, no confession letters will ever come your way,” Sero taunts and Ashido laughs, Kaminari whines, and as always Bakugou just looks at them like they’re stupid.

“Anyway,” continues Ashido, now sitting comfortably. “Yaomomo hates gossiping, so she told me not to tell the other girls. Buuuut—” her grin is contagious, but Kirishima doesn’t have the will to smile right now. “You guys are guys! Loophole.” Her eyes fall to Bakugou. “And before you say you don’t care, I’m telling you because you don’t care. Because you won’t tell anyone, because you don’t care!”

“I wasn’t listening,” Bakugou tells her.

“Even better!” Ashido chirps. She claps her hands together excitedly. “I just think it’s sweet though. Hagakure-chan has had a crush on Ojiro since the first day of school. So if she does end up confessing to him, I hope it goes well.” She pokes at a clump of rice with her chopsticks, but before she can get it to her mouth, she’s talking again. “Oh! Speaking of crushes—”

“You’re in love with me,” Kaminari interjects quickly, getting a strange look. He slumps down in his seat. “What… it was a guess.”

“Bad guess.” Ashido says. Sero laughs. Kirishima manages a tiny smile. “No, what I was gonna say was about Midoriya-kun and Uraraka-chan.”

Kirishima sits up a little straighter.

“I thought we had an unspoken rule not to talk about Midoriya during lunch,” Sero jokes, nudging Bakugou. “It’s his happy place.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Bakugou growls. Sero keeps grinning. “What about ‘em?”

“I thought you didn’t care,” Kaminari tilts his head.

“I don’t.” Bakugou says. “But she’s gonna fucking tell us anyway.”

“Absolutely correct. Asui-chan told me Uraraka-chan denied liking Midoriya-kun that way. And y’know, Asui-chan and Uraraka-chan are pretty close friends, I don’t think Uraraka-chan would lie to her.”

Kirishima notices Bakugou stiffen, and he looks down at his lunch, reminded he hasn’t touched it at all. He has no intention to.

“Isn’t Midoriya like… gay?” Kaminari whispers.

“Rumors are rumors,” Ashido answers with a shrug. She looks over her shoulder at Midoriya’s table, and the rest of the group follow. Iida is gesturing wildly as per usual, Asui and Uraraka are giggling. Todoroki is sitting beside Midoriya. He’s been sitting with them a lot lately. When Ashido turns back to look at the boys, all of them have their attention on her, save for Bakugou who has gone back to eating. “But. Maybe.”

“So Hagakure likes Ojiro—that one was obvious—and Midoriya might be gay. Is that all the news you have to report on?” Sero asks playfully.

Ashido nods. “That’s all this time. Back to you, Sero-kun,” Ashido giggles.

“More at eleven.”

The two of them started laughing and Kaminari joins in, Bakugou ignores them and lets them have their fun while he finishes his lunch, and Kirishima ignores the way his stomach growls. He doesn’t feel like eating.

After the giggling quiets down and the other three resume their chatter, Kaminari pauses to give Kirishima a worried look. “Hey, you haven’t said much. You usually love this kinda stuff.”

“Yeah,” Ashido pouts a little. “What gives. You sick or something?”

He’s been sulking this entire time, hasn’t he? Kirishima shakes his head. “No, I’m alright. Just… tired. Real tired. Didn’t sleep well last night is all.”

“Ooooh.” Ashido and Kaminari say in unison.

“Get some rest tonight if you can,” Sero says, reaching around Bakugou to pat Kirishima on the shoulder. “Never know when Aizawa-Sensei is gonna sneak a physical exam on us.”

“True! Oh man, I was so scared the other day, I thought he was serious about expelling us during the three-man rescue exam!”

“He never is,”

“But he could be!”

The three of them completely forget about Kirishima’s excuse in favor of Aizawa-Sensei’s teaching techniques, allowing Kirishima to deflate just a little more. He doesn’t notice when Bakugou looks at him.

Kirishima hopes that’s the most of the attention he’s going to gain from his friends for the remainder of lunch. Luckily, it is. Lunch comes to a close, Ashido takes the lead in tossing her garbage away with Kaminari at her heels and Sero walking at a leisurely pace behind them. Kirishima himself lags until Bakugou stops walking to let him catch up.

“What’s really the matter with you?” Bakugou asks him as they approach the garbage cans. He looks down at Kirishima’s trey, with an entirely untouched meal gone cold. “You didn’t eat at all.”

“I’m tired.” Kirishima says for the second time.

“I call bullshit.” Bakugou snaps, dumping the trash from his trey into the garbage cans. He watches Kirishima toss his own after, and they place their treys on the top before heading out of the cafeteria with everyone else. “You seem fucked up about something.”

“Yeah. Because I’m tired.” Kirishima presses, silently begging Bakugou to drop it.

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

It doesn’t take long for Kirishima to see the inside of Bakugou’s bedroom again. He wouldn’t say he sees it more than his own, but he sees it more than most people have. That’s something he’s always felt pride in, ever since the first time Bakugou had him over. It was literally untouched territory to everyone else (except maybe Midoriya, like ten years ago), meaning Kirishima was special.

Special. It’s the right word, isn’t it? To describe the feeling that makes his chest swell warm and fingertips buzz when he presses his hands flat on Bakugou’s sheets while Bakugou searches through his backpack for a pencil before they get to work. (He thinks about this every time he’s there, sitting on Bakugou’s bed with him, with or without textbooks and homework scattered between them.)

Studying at Bakugou’s house is routine. They get nothing done at the library (read: they get asked to leave because Bakugou is so damn loud), and studying at Kirishima’s house proves to be difficult because of his siblings. Bakugou’s house has always been the most suitable choice. Kirishima prefers it anyway and enjoys it more, because Bakugou’s mom is so nice to him and so snarky with her son, he sees where Bakugou gets his fire.

Fire, spice, and everything not nice, all jampacked into one Bakugou Katsuki. Kirishima used to wonder what made him fall under Bakugou’s spell. It wasn’t his charm (or lack there of), it wasn’t his way with words (since fuck was every other one). But Bakugou had said it himself: feelings are stupid as shit.

While Bakugou hasn’t mentioned it directly, Kirishima knows he’s still thinking about that day at lunch when Ashido was talking about the other girls. A small part of him wonders if Bakugou has put any thought into why Kirishima had really been so off that day because it was obvious that his excuse hadn’t fooled Bakugou, but if that were the case then Bakugou would have said something already.

Kirishima tries to put it behind him when Bakugou moves closer, pointing at a question on their homework that Kirishima had marked incorrectly. When Bakugou passes Kirishima his notes, their hands brush and Kirishima all but jerks his hand back, crinkling Bakugou’s notes.

“What?” Bakugou narrows his eyes. “Stop being weird.”

“I’m not being weird,” Kirishima laughs it off like always.

“Yeah you are,” Bakugou says. “You’ve been acting weird for days. More than fucking usual.”

Maybe he has, but Kirishima will deny that it’s anything out of the ordinary. He’d stick to his previous excuse for as long as he could. “Hey, I’m just out of it because I’m—”

“Tired. I know. And I know you’re lying too, fuckhead.” Bakugou huffs. “Just tell me what’s wrong with you.”

“Why, is the great Lord Explosion Murder worried about little ol’ me?” Kirishima jokes in hopes of Bakugou telling him to fuck off and drop it.

His hopes are crushed, because Bakugou cares about him. “First of all, that name was fucking gold and I’m still a genius for thinking of it. Secondly, stop screwing around and tell me what the fuck is going on or I’ll beat it out of you.” Despite the absolute sincerity behind those threatening words, Kirishima can sense the worry.

Bakugou cares about Kirishima greatly. He cares a lot about all of his friends, Kirishima and the three of them know that, even if Bakugou has a hard time showing it. His threats usually hold more than they think, but not as much as an outsider would expect. Especially not when it comes to Kirishima, because for every bark Bakugou dishes out, he doesn’t always follow up with a bite.

Kirishima forces a smile, the corner of his lip twitching as he considers telling Bakugou how he feels. As if him confessing will instantly open up a new world to Bakugou that has him completely forgetting about his feelings for Uraraka when he steps inside, and then Kirishima can hold his hand like he’s wanted to for so long.

But it’s never that simple.

The course of the last two and a half weeks has proven to Kirishima that Bakugou’s crush on Uraraka is too real for Bakugou to just forget. He remembers those glances during class when he’d forget about his selfish tollbooth blocking and lean back in his chair—Bakugou would lean forward just a hair to get a better look at her studious, focused profile as she scribbles down notes.

It might have been a small thing, but it’s exactly what Kirishima has been doing for half a year. He understands what Bakugou feels.

It’s not fair.

“Well?” Bakugou’s set his homework to the side of him, elbows now perched on his knees, cheek laying against one lazy fist. “You gonna tell me, or just stare at me until I hit you?”

“You’ll just have to hit me,” Kirishima says with a voice and grin that aren’t his own. “’Cause I’m not telling.”

“Is it a pride thing?” Bakugou tries, brows pulling down in frustration. “Because if it is, that’s shitty.”

Kirishima has to question that of himself. “No… it’s not. I just don’t—”

“So stop being a dumbass for ten seconds and tell me what your problem is.” Bakugou’s tone has dropped to that of almost desperate somehow. As if he were concerned.

He is, Kirishima has to remind himself. Bakugou caring and worrying about anything other than himself—and showing it—is rare, but then again… so are these talks of theirs. These talks when Bakugou’s guard is down and his threats mean nothing, when he’s choosing his words carefully. When he and Kirishima are alone in his room where nobody can interrupt.

I’m a fool, Kirishima wants to laugh at himself. In a moment of weakness, he looks away from Bakugou.

“Out with it.” Bakugou says.

“Okay.” Kirishima says, fingers curling up into fists.

After a short pause, Bakugou sighs heavily from his nose. “Any fuckin’ day now, fuckstick.”

How could he ever fall for the likes of Bakugou Katsuki. Mister I’ll be an indisputable number one Bakugou Katsuki.

Kirishima looks at him again. “I like guys.” That’s something he’s never told anyone. “I like you.” So is that.

This time, Bakugou lets the silence fill his room. That frustrated expression of his melts away in slow motion right before Kirishima’s very eyes. Bakugou’s eyebrows raise, and his lips once pulled back in a sneer relax, only slightly parted now.

When his mouth opens a little wider for words to come out, Kirishima cuts him off. “I like you a lot.” He’s insistent. Bakugou shuts his mouth.

In front of Kirishima, Bakugou struggles to find his words. Kirishima is okay with that. He uses the newfound quiet to experience the absolute relief flooding through him for finally letting that out. A metaphorical weight lifts from his shoulders, spiraling further and further away from him until it seems out of reach. If he knew confessing would make him feel this much better, he would have done it days ago.

Though, the innerworkings of Bakugou’s mind appear to be tearing at the seams. Why is it so hard for Bakugou to come up with a response? Kirishima smiles nervously, feeling a little cold now that Bakugou isn’t staring him down.

Kirishima hears Bakugou swallow, watches him wet his lips, and feels him shift on the bed before he finally opens his mouth again.

“I don’t think I could ever… date a guy.” Bakugou tells him slowly.

The weight of Kirishima’s confession comes back ten times as heavy as when it left, forcing him to slump down and stare at the crumpled notes now in his lap. Bakugou’s handwriting is nice. Kirishima wishes the wet warmth blurring his view didn’t have to make it so hard to look at.

“Okay,” Kirishima says, taking in a shaky breath. It’s fine. It’s really fine.

“That’s cool, though. That you like guys, I mean.” Bakugou scratches his jaw. He’s trying. “There’s… lots of guys.” Kirishima wishes he wasn’t trying.

Kirishima lifts his head, turning his attention to the wall so Bakugou doesn’t see him tear up. “Yeah…” he says, voice disconnected from himself. There’s lots of guys.

It hurts. It hurts because he let his hopes get higher when they should have stayed nailed to the ground. It hurts because he knew nothing good would come from his confession, if anything it would only make things weirder between Bakugou and himself. It hurts as if he’s been punched in the face by his own fist, because this is his own doing.

Except, maybe if he’d punched himself in the face, it would have prevented him from speaking.

The only thing that hurts more than the rejection is the silence that fallows. It cuts through Kirishima slowly, precisely in every nerve and piece of him that’s already being stuck with anxiety, making him feel terrible. Bakugou doesn’t know what to say to console him, which is the final blow in and of itself.

“I think I should go home,” Kirishima says to Bakugou’s wall. “I made it weird.”

Any other time, Kirishima would expect Bakugou to say something like you’re always fucking weird, but that’s not what comes out of his mouth. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Bakugou doesn’t stop him as he puts his things back in his school bag, doesn’t walk him to the door, doesn’t say goodbye. He just lets Kirishima leave in his haste without a word. He has his own homework to do, after all.

It might be hard with tear-smudged notes.

Kirishima’s never really put much thought into what it would be like if Bakugou liked him back until now. As in, what would have happened if his confession had been met with a positive response. Bakugou saying he likes Kirishima too, in his own words, that would have been nice. But then what?

Would they have pursued something after? Would they have kept it a secret? Bakugou doesn’t seem like the romantic type, he’d most likely want their relationship to be on a need-to-know basis that only the two of them know about. Or, less likely, Bakugou would want everyone to know so he could boast. Even with the odds of the latter being slim, Kirishima feels himself flush just thinking about Bakugou throwing an arm around him as they walk to lunch because they’re together. (It’s all Kirishima can think about to keep his heart from crumbling to dust in his chest.)

That’ll never happen though.

When he gets to class Bakugou isn’t there yet, which is both relieving and worrying. Rather than dwell on it, Kirishima takes a seat. He takes out the homework he didn’t finish after he’d left Bakugou’s house in hopes of getting it done before Aizawa-Sensei comes in and starts class for the day.

He knows this stuff, but his mind isn’t processing it. All of his thoughts are clouded with Bakugou and what happened the night before. Is he stupid? For even considering the mere idea that Bakugou would take his confession as something worthy of his time?

Not… that… he’d been rude about it. Bakugou had let him down as gently as he could, which is strange. Bakugou and gentle don’t go hand-in-hand…

“—ishima-kun?”

 Kirishima regains focus of what he’s doing. Homework. No, actually he’s erasing a hole into the middle of his paper. He looks up at the person addressing him and almost has to kick himself to avoid crying again.

Uraraka gives him a concerned smile, brows turned upward. Like always, her hands are curled around her backpack straps, eyes big and warm, cute and kind. Kirishima can’t bear to hate her, but he hates her.

“Yeah?”

“Um… you’re… in my seat.”

Huh. So he is. Well why don’t you just take my seat since Bakugou would rather be around you—

Kirishima raises to his feet, scooping up his torn-up homework from the desk top. Uraraka’s eyes follow him as he moves on one desk row over and down, all but falling into his chair. He doesn’t look at her once he’s reseated, which has her wondering if she’s done something to upset him.

“Sorry.” He grumbles, staring at the hole in his paper.

Bakugou shows up a few minutes after Uraraka has reclaimed her seat. He speaks to nobody, looks at nobody, taking his chair and sitting silently. Kirishima quickly glances at Bakugou then back down at his homework. He seems tired and irritated—more than usual. Any other day, Kirishima would ask if he’s alright. Today, he can’t even really look at him.

Class starts the moment Aizawa-Sensei steps in, forcing Kirishima to push back all of his negative emotions so he can focus. It’s hard though, knowing what he knows, feeling what he feels.

The lesson is to write a paper on heroism, comprised of pros and cons, ideology of the “perfect” hero, and the like. They’re told to get into pairs so that their writing isn’t biased. Self-assigned pairs usually result in Bakugou and Kirishima working together. However, before Bakugou can even fully turn in Kirishima’s direction, Kirishima’s swiveling one eighty in his chair to find Midoriya.

“Pair up with me?” He asks so loud and so fast that Midoriya does a double take. From the corner of his eye, Kirishima can see Bakugou glaring daggers at him. This doesn’t detour him though, he only smiles at Midoriya. “Change of pace?”

In a way, this is revenge. But more than that, Midoriya is Kirishima’s friend too. While he could have gone with Kaminari, Ashido, or Sero to be his partner for the paper, Midoriya was a more suitable choice if he wanted to get a good grade. Not to mention, Midoriya knows Bakugou like the back of his hand; if Kirishima can learn anything about Bakugou that he doesn’t already know, it’ll be from Midoriya.

The pressure is on, but Midoriya nods. Generally, Iida or Uraraka (or more recently, Todoroki) work with him when the groups are self-assigned, though he doesn’t seem opposed to the idea of pairing with someone new.

Aizawa-Sensei has them all move around the room to sit with their respective partners as he writes down the criteria for the paper. It’s due before lunch, so he has them all get to it, work diligently and silently, and if they have any questions to please ask Iida or Yaoyorozu. With that, he zips himself into the seclusion of his sleeping bag, not to be disturbed.

Kirishima sits on the other side of Midoriya’s desk, chewing at his eraser. The task is easy, he knows his own views and opinions on what it is to be a hero, and while Midoriya is extremely biased in thinking the perfect hero is All Might (though, who is Kirishima to disagree?), he’s not very argumentative during discussion.

For a while, it goes smoothly. Midoriya jots down points of his own and Kirishima’s while they talk it over, and when he takes the reigns of the conversation, Kirishima manages a glance over his shoulder. Uraraka is working steadily with Asui, and Bakugou has Sero to work with, so at least they’re not together. He wants to laugh at himself for being an idiot and thinking that Bakugou would ask Uraraka to be his partner just because Kirishima wasn’t available. Get a hold of yourself—

“Kirishima-kun,” Midoriya pries, smiling at him when Kirishima looks back.

“Oh, sorry.” Kirishima twirls his pencil in his hand. “You were saying something like… pros and cons can be similar, resulting in… uhh…” he drops off, losing the thought.

“Are you okay?” Asks Midoriya, cocking his head slightly. “You’ve been kind of unfocused…” he lowers his voice, much like Ashido does at lunch when she thinks she’s being sneaky, except it works for Midoriya since he’s already speaking quietly, “did something happen with Kacchan?”

Is he that readable, or is it because Midoriya is the friggin’ Bakugou Whisperer? “No, everything’s fine.”

Midoriya isn’t convinced. “Kirishima-kun, no offense, but I don’t understand why you’d want to pair up with me when Kacchan is right over there—”

“Cause—!” Kirishima is a bit too loud. Yaoyorozu and Jirou look at them from Jirou’s desk before going back to their paper, and Kirishima sighs, lowering his own voice for only Midoriya to hear. “B…because sometimes he’s hard to work with.”

“Oh, I get that,” Midoriya nods in agreement, though he’s still looking right through Kirishima’s excuses. “Is that really what it is though? I’m not trying to be nosy, but you’ve been acting strange for a few weeks and I’m worried.”

“What? What do you mean strange?” Don’t read me like this, man.

“Just… different. You’re quieter. You seem kind of… distant from Kacchan, too. So, I can’t help but wonder if something happened.” Midoriya isn’t the type to get in peoples’ business if he isn’t welcomed, so Kirishima’s issues must seem like an open house. Or was it because it had to do with Bakugou that he was so interested? That figures. This is Fucking Deku after all. “Did he do something?”

Yeah. This is Midoriya he’s talking to, he who can see through anyone’s lies when it comes to Bakugou, including Bakugou himself. Kirishima has too much pride to let anyone know what happened, not to mention he may spill the entire story if he’s not careful.

“You’re asking a lot of questions,” Kirishima says after a pause, getting Midoriya to raise an eyebrow. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Midoriya is sincere in his apologies, making Kirishima feel bad for his tone. “I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“I… will be. How’s that?”

Midoriya sighs, but he smiles afterward. “I guess that’s better than nothing.”

His attention falls back to his note list while Kirishima’s goes to the page in front of him. There are a few things written down, but nothing for him to be proud of, nothing Midoriya hasn’t already written down with more care and detail. Kirishima doesn’t understand how he does it. He doesn’t understand how Midoriya does a lot of things.

He’s a mystery, Kirishima thinks while Midoriya says something about advancements in technology assisting in the mechanics of a hero’s specialized costume and equipment, muttering more to himself than Kirishima now. Since he’s focused on that, Kirishima uses that as his excuse to look around again.

Bakugou and Sero are working together just fine, though there doesn’t seem to be much talking. Uraraka and Asui are chatting with Iida about something while Todoroki pretends not to be looking at Midoriya. Oh, Iida partnered up with Todoroki because Kirishima snatched Midoriya before either of them could, huh?

Kirishima turns back to Midoriya just as he’s looking up from his notes. “Tell me what you think of this?” He slides his notes over to Kirishima and taps the section he wants him to read with the tip of his pencil. “Like, does it make sense? I got a little carried away.”

Snickering, Kirishima reads over Midoriya’s notes. He’s got lots of tiny doodles along the edges of the page and where some notes end with too much blank space before the indent. The notes are good, too. No wonder Midoriya’s grades are the way they are.

“It makes sense, yeah,” Kirishima hands them back.

“Great, I was worried I’d need to simplify it… oh! I think we need to mention strengths and weaknesses, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Not just the ways to power up a Quirk and the side effects of using ones Quirk for too long, but like… other things that effect a hero’s ability to work.” Midoriya is already writing down whatever he’s thinking about. Kirishima listens to him murmur as he writes; personal life troubles resulting in an inability to truly focus on one’s work…

This is some kind of callout.

Kirishima absently reaches out, poking the crown of Midoria’s head, his finger hidden in curly hair before retracting his hand. Midoriya stops muttering when he does, and looks up at Kirishima again. “Can I ask you something, Midoriya?”

“Of course!”

“Not about the assignment.”

“Oh, that’s fine too,” Midoriya grins. “What is it?”

Does Uraraka like anyone? Do you know if she likes Bakugou? Do you think she would date him? His mind chants at him like an audience of one thousand smaller Eijirou’s, all simultaneously stomping their feet until he does something about it.

“What’s your deal?”

Despite Midoriya’s obvious confusion towards the question, his smile stays on his face. “What do you mean?”

“The deal,” Kirishima folds his arms over the front of Midoriya’s desk, giving him a funny look, “with you and Todoroki.” See, it’s easier to put the attention on someone else’s life so that Kirishima doesn’t have to think about his own emotional discomfort.

Midoriya backs down only slightly, leaning into the back of his chair. “I still… don’t understand what you mean…” except that, by the softening, slightly defensive tone, he does.

“C’mon, Midoriya, you can tell me.” Kirishima insists.

Todoroki has been palling around with Midoriya and his friends a lot recently. Now, Kirishima could be totally overlooking it, but lunch the other day with Kaminari’s accusation really put into perspective of how clear it was.

Maybe they’re just friends. Though, friends don’t look at each other the way Todoroki looks at Midoriya and vice versa.

(Friends don’t look at each other the way Kirishima looks at Bakugou.)

“He’s… special to me.” Midoriya says, somewhat whispering.

“Special?” Asks Kirishima, offering a grin he hopes comforts Midoriya into going into more detail. “Special like Iida and Uraraka, ooooor…?”

“W-what are you trying to get me to say here?” Midoriya’s face is starting to bloom pink beneath his freckled cheeks. “They’re all special to me, they’re all my friends…”

Kirishima’s smile wavers. Perhaps he’d been wrong. Midoriya is different with his friends, he’s always been partial to verbal affection, whereas Bakugou… is the exact opposite. It’s likely he could have been reading too far into things—

From the corner of his eye, Kirishima sees it. Jirou’s ear-jack ever so stealthily plugged in, capable of picking up whispering. She isn’t looking at them, but she’s not speaking to Yaoyorozu about the project anymore either. Sneaky.

Kirishima takes his pencil back up and laughs, “I get it now,” he says, quickly scribbling something down on his paper; an arrow pointing towards Jirou and Yaoyorozu’s shared desk with a question mark. He slides the page towards Midoriya, and when Midoriya nods, Kirishima takes the page back.

Need-to-know basis, Kirishima tells himself, writing something beneath his arrow. He moves the paper towards Midoriya again, his question circled, do you like Todoroki?

Midoriya hunches over the page to shield his words from everyone around him. While that seems a little excessive, Kirishima understands. Their classmates are nosy enough as it is. And, wow, he’s one of those nosy motherfuckers (as Bakugou calls them) now, isn’t he? Oops.

The crinkling of a page draws Kirishima’s attention back as Midoriya pushes the paper back towards him with his response:

I do like Todoroki-kun, and he likes me too but we have to keep it a secret from the majority of the class for obvious reasons. We’ve only Iida-kun and Uraraka-chan because I trust them, and I’m telling you because I feel like I can trust you so please don’t make me regret telling you.

Kirishima smiles. That’s adorable. He writes a quick you can trust me, and decides it’s not enough, so he adds onto it, if it helps, you two aren’t the only guys in 1-A who like boys.

When he hands it over, Midoriya reads it over more than once and seems to ease up, sighing softly. It’s as if it occurs to Midoriya all at once that Kirishima is referring to himself, and he looks up at him with big, accusingly surprised eyes. Kirishima nods in response before Midoriya’s pencil meets the page again.

Midoriya knows as much as he needs to know. Kirishima feels better having told someone else, even if he’d been so adamant on giving any information on the issue before. He’d never intended on revealing his feelings to anyone aside from Bakugou if given the right push, but telling Midoriya was the right choice.

Kirishima thinks so, at least.

They’d managed to get their paper done in the midst of all of their chatter come lunchtime, and Kirishima hadn’t realized how hungry he was until then. Midoriya had offered him to sit with them during lunch if he still felt the need to give Bakugou the cold shoulder—or, in Midoriya’s words, if you still want space from Kacchan, which was a much nicer way to put it.

He walks with Midoriya, Todoroki, and Iida, somehow unbothered by Kaminari and the others. Maybe they get it. Maybe they haven’t noticed. He doesn’t think too much on it, instead partaking in whatever conversation Iida had pulled him and Midoriya into. Todoroki walks silently at Midoriya’s other side, and Kirishima can only wonder what’s on his mind.

As always, the cafeteria is loud and buzzing lively with chatter from the kids from other classes. Kirishima doesn’t notice until he’s sitting down with his food that Uraraka isn’t with them. Midoriya is the one to say something though, which Iida explains is because she and Asui stayed behind to help Aizawa-Sensei with something, but they would join soon.

“Now then, may I ask what brings Kirishima-kun to our table?” Iida continues, gesturing at Kirishima as if he weren’t listening. “Not that it’s a problem!”

“Are you and Bakugou fighting?” Todoroki chimes in before either Midoriya or Kirishima can say anything.

“He’s branching out!” says Midoriya.

“Because he and Bakugou are fighting?” repeats Todoroki.

Midoriya laughs nervously and shakes his head. “No, no, nothing like that—”

“We aren’t fighting,” Kirishima agrees, though he cuts Midoriya off, “we just had a disagreement, so I’m backing off before he decides to explosion murder me over it.”

It’s only a lie if they know the full story, so he’s technically not lying to them (he can practically hear Ashido singing the word loophole~! in his head). Midoriya scratches the back of his head, giving off another laugh as he does when someone other than himself brings up Bakugou’s particular way of dealing with people, and Todoroki sits there silently to think over what Kirishima said.

If he believes him, good, they can drop it and Kirishima can eat his lunch with his new friends. If not, he’ll just have to try harder to persuade Todoroki’s thoughts. Todoroki is smart, Kirishima knows, but he’s also not a fan of conflict, so maybe…

“It must be bad,” Todoroki finally deducts.

“Uh. Nah. Not the worst. Just… something that needs to fizzle out before he’s doesn’t care anymore.” Says Kirishima.

“Won’t it get worse if you’re sitting with Midoriya?” Todoroki says, leaning over the table to look at him. “Bakugou doesn’t like Midoriya. You’re digging yourself a bigger hole.”

Kirishima hadn’t thought of that. Todoroki doesn’t quite see through his lie, but it’s enough that he can call him out, making Kirishima sink down in his seat a bit. “Yeah, well… oh well.”

Todoroki leaves it at that, deciding his comments are doing more harm than good, and starts on his lunch. Between the two, Midoriya lightly taps the edge of the table with two fingers trying to think of something to say to bring the good mood back, feeling relieved when a familiar face steps into the cafeteria.

“Tsu-chan!” he greets as she approaches the table with her lunch from home. She smiles happily at the boys, taking a seat across from Midoriya and next to Iida. “Where’s Uraraka-chan?”

“Kero…? Oh, she was behind me. I think she stopped at the bathroom.”

Kirishima looks past Asui’s head only to find that his other group of friends has a vacancy at their table as well, and not just his empty chair. He swallows his nerves when Midoriya nudge him back to earth.

“Did you happen to see Bakugou on your way here, Tsu-chan?” Kirishima asks, glancing towards the cafeteria exit then back to the girl across from Midoriya. Any second now, any second, Bakugou will walk in and sit with Kaminari and the others; any second now Kirishima’s anxiety will settle and he could eat without a care in the world.

“Hmm come to think of it,” Asui sets a thoughtful finger on her chin. “He was still in the classroom when everyone was leaving for lunch. He was the last one to hand his paper in, even after Sero-chan left with Mina-chan and Kaminari-chan… he might have followed us out, though?”

“Ah,” Kirishima is already moving to his feet. “Okay, thanks,”

Midoriya grasps his sleeve. “Kirishima-kun—” but Kirishima jerks his arm away, startling Midoriya into putting his hands in his lap. “M-maybe you shouldn’t—”

“It’s fine,” Kirishima waves him off, wanting to apologize for his harshness but not doing so because his focus was on stopping the inevitable. The possible inevitable. The If-Bakugou-and-Uraraka-Are-Alone-Together-Who-Knows-What-Could-Happen inevitable.

The he-knows-what-could-happen inevitable.

“Don’t run in the halls, Kirishima-kun!” he hears Iida shout from behind him. It only makes him run faster.

The route from classroom 1-A to the cafeteria wasn’t a long one, there wasn’t much to stop and look at in the halls. His heart raced as fast as his legs did, hands curled into fists so tight the skin of his knuckles paled. Where are you, where are you?

Bakugou thinks he’s sly. He thinks he can fool everyone else by being casual about it. But Kirishima knows. He knows what the blond bastard is doing, he’s been waiting for this. Perhaps Kirishima could have prevented it by staying behind so he could walk with Bakugou like he always did, or by partnering up with him despite his hurt feelings and bruised pride and unrelenting pettiness.

“Oi,”

Kirishima thinks it’s for him.

“Round Face,”

But it’s not. He skids to a stop before he rounds the corner, slamming his back against the wall and biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from yelling. Quietly, he peeks out from behind the wall to catch a glimpse of the Uraraka half turning to face Bakugou, and he quickly hides again before Bakugou can see him.

No, no, no, no—

“Bakugou-kun?” Her voice is so soft and unexpecting. She has no idea what’s coming and Kirishima feels both sorry for her and envious.

Kirishima holds his breath, fearing that if he so much as exhales too long he’ll be found. Seconds ago he’d been so willing to throw himself in Bakugou’s path. To be in his way and keep him from his goal without there being some sort of price to pay. Kirishima is a toll booth. He’s just one of Bakugou’s obstacles in the way of getting to Uraraka.

And Bakugou’s already paid the price, in more ways than one.

“I…” Bakugou sounds nervous. In Kirishima’s head, he imagines Bakugou’s hands fisted up at his sides to keep from blowing up the first thing he sees in his internal anguish. “We gotta talk.”

“…Okay. What is it?”

Kirishima hears the sound of footsteps, loud and imposing, as Bakugou approaches Uraraka. His steps are slow, Kirishima can almost feel Bakugou’s anxiety from where he’s got himself held up against the wall. Don’t do it, he begs and, for once, hopes Bakugou can hear him and that he listens to him just this once.

“Um…” Says Bakugou, in attempt to stall. He hasn’t thought about this at all. But in a louder, more like-Bakugou voice, the blond erupts in a shout of FUCK IT, followed by a slightly quieter “I like you.”

There is silence. Complete silence, where Kirishima’s chest aches not only for himself, but for Bakugou. A pause like that means rejection. That’s what it meant for Kirishima…

“What’s that face for?” Bakugou speaks up before the nothingness drags on for too long. “Say something!”

“Are… you serious?” Uraraka’s voice is so small that Kirishima is surprised he can hear it.

“What do you mean? Of course I’m…” Bakugou trails off. “Never mind. This is fucking stupid—”

“No, Bakugou-ku—”

“It is! Don’t pity me, Uraraka, it’s not funny.”

“I’m not…” There’s another click of feet on tile. She’s stepping closer to him, and he isn’t moving away, and Kirishima covers his mouth with both hands. “I just—I’m surprised is all!”

“Well… good! It wasn’t supposed to be fucking obvious.” Bakugou barks. No bite. At all.

Uraraka giggles very softly. “It wasn’t, I promise… I like you, too.”

Something eases its way down Kirishima’s face, sinking below his hands and dripping over the curves. He’s crying. He doesn’t know when he started. It’s warm and wet on his face, smearing beneath his palms when he refuses to move his hands in order to keep his mouth covered. Inside his chest, his ribs feel almost bruised from how hard his heart has been pounding. Now there is nothing but pain.

Kirishima shoves himself off the wall in search of the closest bathroom and hurries inside, keeping his head down until he’s sure he’s alone. He braces his hands at the edge of the sink before looking at his reflection. If looks could kill, the mirror would shatter.

His face is red and wet around his eyes and nose, heavy tears still threatening to spill over the edges. Bakugou had actually done it. He couldn’t even wait to let Kirishima settle down from his own confession the night before, he had to do it immediately. But that was Bakugou for you, doing before thinking of reparations because he’s Bakugou Katsuki, Lord of Explosions and Murders, King of Doing Whatever the Hell He Wants.

So what did Uraraka even see in him? Kirishima wants to judge her for liking him, but how could he? He likes Bakugou, too, but not even he knows what he likes about him.

Maybe it’s because Bakugou is the king of doing whatever he wants. Maybe it’s because Bakugou does before he thinks. Maybe it’s because he’s Bakugou.

It’s absolutely because he’s Bakugou.

Kirishima chokes on a sob that’s been building up from the moment he’d found them in the hallway and ducks his head down again. His tears fall to the floor, dropping just in front of his shoes. It hurts so much. Seeing them together. Hearing them talk to each other. The moment he’d been dreading since Bakugou had told Kirishima about his crush happening right there, so close to him that he could still picture their faces even though he hadn’t watch.

She got him. She won with a head-start and a twenty-point lead in a game that Kirishima wasn’t even qualified to play.

Is it terrible to think of Bakugou as some sort of prize? He is a living, breathing human with hopes and aspirations, weaknesses and flaws, a terrible sense of humor and an even worse sense of self-worth. Yes, it is terrible to think of Bakugou as some sort of prize, but only in the sense that he is not an object.

As a person, though he’s completely and utterly rewarding in the strangest ways. Kirishima wanted nothing more than to bask in Bakugou’s glory from up close…

As Bakugou’s best friend, he was already doing that.

Strange how it always comes back to that. His friendship with Bakugou and how his gross and fuzzy crush feelings fog up his mind into forgetting what they had before something else developed. He let those feelings make him forget what actually mattered.

Uraraka is the only player in this game, Kirishima understands as he wipes his nose on the back of his hand. She is the only player, because she is the only one who deserves to win.

Kirishima has never taken defeat well.

He does, however, know how to pull himself together quickly when he hears the bathroom door creak open. Quickly, he scrubs his palms over his face to wipe away any and all tears, forces a shallow breath, and looks up at his reflection. It’s only one of the boys from Class B, who barely acknowledges his existence before moving into a stall. Kirishima considers himself lucky, taking another short moment to compose himself before he steps out of the bathroom.

The cafeteria is just down the hall, though his appetite is long gone. Instead, he heads back to the classroom so he can have some more time alone before the rest of 1-A return from lunch. He feels bad for abandoning Midoriya and the others in a selfish haste, for practically knocking Midoriya off of him when he stood up, for leaving his mess with them. Going back would only be worse than if he stayed alone, though. He’d have to see Bakugou. He’ll have to look at Uraraka and maybe even talk to her. He doesn’t want to face either of them.

Back in 1-A, everything is quiet. Kirishima is alone with everyone’s backpacks and the pile of papers on the desk that Aizawa-Sensei would (probably) come back for later. He slumps down at his desk, pressing his forehead to the cool surface and laces his fingers over the back of his head, letting the silence sooth him.

Now what? He doesn’t want to think about it, but his mind still gives him the possibilities following Bakugou’s confession. Uraraka likes him too. So, what, are they going to start dating now? Will it be a secret? Will Bakugou tell their friends? Will he tell Kirishima, or will he keep it hush-hush to spare his feelings? Bakugou cares enough, maybe.

What about Uraraka? Would she want her friends to know? How would that work out between her and Midoriya, anyway? Midoriya is fond of Bakugou regardless of how Bakugou feels about him and always will be, but those are still eggshells she may not want to walk over.

Ha ha. It’s funny, see, because Uraraka can float.

Kirishima sniffles and exhales, feeling his own breath steam over the surface of his desk. It’s not fair.

In retrospect, this is all his fault. He shouldn’t have tried to pull the make you jealous card out during group work. He shouldn’t have told Bakugou the truth. He should have listened to Todoroki, because this was absolutely a bigger hole than he’s able to get out of by himself. A trench. A chasm. It feels endless, dark, murky…

“There you are—” it’s Midoriya. Kirishima doesn’t look up. “Kirishima-kun? Come back to lunch, there’s not much time left but you should eat.”

Kirishima grunts in response, if only to let Midoriya know he heard him. Midoriya shuffles by the door before entering the classroom and shutting the door behind them, giving them duel privacy. It would be nice to be alone alone, though.

“Did… did you find Kacchan?”

“Mhmm.” He answers. When he hears Midoriya begin to approach him, he instinctively stiffens up, hands hardening over his head like some kind of warning. Like some kind of defense mechanism.

“Okay… I guess it didn’t go well?”

“Mmm-mm.”

Midoriya sighs. Kirishima isn’t giving him much to work with, but why should he? He wants to be alone, Midoriya, take the hint.

“I’m bothering you,” Midoriya says softly. “And I’m sorry. You’re worrying me, though… so I can’t help but be a pest.”

He pauses, giving Kirishima time to think and respond, but Kirishima only takes it to think. He’s being rude to Midoriya, someone who’s opened up to him and trusted him and allowed him refuge even if he’s still missing half of the story. That fact just adds guilt onto Kirishima’s already flimsy emotional state.

“You’re not being a pest,” Kirishima replies, face mushed against his desk. “You care—I get it. Right now just… isn’t a good time.”

“Okay. I’ll leave you alone—”

Kirishima unhardens himself, letting his hands relax against the back of head, After he does, he feels Midoriya’s hand lightly pat his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly before the hand is gone.

“—but If you need someone to talk to, I’m here. Whether it’s about Kacchan or… anything. Okay?”

Midoriya is a good person. A good friend. One that Kirishima doesn’t feel he deserves right now for literally pushing him away. As much as Kirishima knows it would be easier to let Midoriya go back to the others and sulk at his desk until class resumes, the desire to not be depressed by himself overpowered his want for self-pitying seclusion.

Lifting his head, Kirishima whimpers, “I feel like crap,” he meets Midoriya’s eyes before he continues. “And everything sucks, and I’m sad. Can you pat me on the back again?”

Despite his sad tone, the request is so goofy that Midoriya looks like he wants to laugh. Instead, he just smiles and nods, and pats Kirishima’s back before rubbing circles into it. “Are you going to be okay? Earlier you said you would be, but…”

Sniffling, Kirishima places his elbow over his tearstained desk and rests his chin against his palm. Midoriya frowns apologetically, keeping the pace with his hand against Kirishima’s back. Kirishima doesn’t have an answer, because he doesn’t know. In theory, he’ll be fine. He’ll bear through it and return to Bakugou’s side regardless of his kicked puppy feelings, he’ll continue to feel heartache when Bakugou looks at Uraraka, and he’ll smile at their wedding.

Good in theory, terrifying in practice.

“I can, uh… talk? To Kacchan?”

Both of them realize what an awful idea that is the second it comes out of Midoriya’s mouth. Midoriya talking to Bakugou about how he feels is one thing—and often met with Bakugou telling him to fuck off and die. Midoriya talking to Bakugou about how Kirishima feels? He doesn’t know the whole story, he doesn’t know the part about Bakugou liking Uraraka, which is quite a crucial piece of information.

Midoriya talking to Bakugou in that sense would blow up in his face. Literally.

“Sorry,” Midoriya says after a moment, taking his hand off of Kirishima’s back. “Maybe not.”

“Yeah… it’s better if you don’t.” Kirishima blinks away the tears clinging to his eyelashes and sighs heavily, pressing his cheek to his palm as he looks at Midoriya. “Thanks, though.”

“Don’t thank me, I haven’t done anything,” Midoriya says, laughing softly. “I just want you to be okay.”

“You’ve done plenty, man… You should go back to the cafeteria,” Kirishima closes his eyes, cheek in hand. “I need a few more minutes alone.”

“Okay. If you need anything, remember what I said.”

Kirishima hums in response, which Midoriya takes as a yes and leaves Kirishima to his lonesome in the classroom. When he shuts the door behind him, Kirishima crosses his arms over his desk into a makeshift pillow. He lays his head down, wishing he could sleep there or maybe die, but he’d never be so lucky, so he just closes his eyes to try and relax before class starts again.

Images of Bakugou display in Kirishima’s head. Memories of him getting Bakugou to laugh at something stupid, eating dinner at his house when Bakugou’s mom told him he should stay, watching late night TV in Bakugou’s living room on the weekend. And then, Kirishima’s favorite memory of the two of them laying side by side on Bakugou’s bed, talking about their goals and aspirations. The first time Bakugou had ever told him anything personal about himself in that weirdly calm way that only Kirishima knows.

He can’t help but fear that their friendship will never be the same after this—after Uraraka. It can’t be helped.

Kirishima avoids Bakugou.

He swaps seats with Koda—with no verbal explanation as to why he wants to—in order to sit at the back of the room rather than between Uraraka and Bakugou. He floats around his other friends at lunch (like Tokoyami, Ojiro and Tooru—who still don’t appear to be dating—or Midoriya and Iida and Todoroki when Asui and Uraraka have gone to sit with the girls). He does everything in his power to stay away from Bakugou, and Kaminari, Ashido, and Sero by extension.

It’s harder than it looks, but he does it. For a while it’s manageable, and Midoriya sort of helps him doing so. Bakugou doesn’t seem all that effected when Kirishima sneaks looks at him from the back of the room.

He’s known about Bakugou’s crush for a month. Bakugou has known about Kirishima’s crush for a little over two weeks. Bakugou confessed to Uraraka thirteen days ago. Kirishima has successfully evading Bakugou for twelve.

The guilt of it all tugs at Kirishima every day from the moment he enters the classroom until the minute he’s home. Whether or not Bakugou cares, Kirishima does. Bakugou is his best friend through and through—or at least, was—so of course Kirishima misses him greatly, and the other three as well. Nevertheless, for Kirishima to heal though, it has to be like this.

(Healing sucks, Kirishima decides.)

At last the weekend comes and he doesn’t have to worry for a bit. He can take his mind off of it by hanging out with his siblings or visiting with his mom or anything that requires him to focus. So long as he doesn’t think about Bakugou and Uraraka, he’s fine.

Saturday night is nice. He helps his mother with dinner, joking about needing to “learn to cook properly anyway” when she gives him a funny look, but she doesn’t reject the help. While they cook together, she asks him about school and he says it’s fine and dandy because it is fine and dandy. She asks him about Quirk training and he says he’s getting stronger every day because he is getting stronger every day.

She asks him about Bakugou because she hasn’t heard about him in a while, and Kirishima avoids it by asking her how high the temperature of the oven needs to be.

After dinner, he showers and brushes his teeth and lazes around his room with the intention to study, though he turns to his phone for entertainment when the books do nothing for him. He’s got a text from Kaminari with way too many question marks and not a single word, and a similar one from Ashido. They weren’t sent very far apart in timing, so he suspects he’ll get one from Sero soon enough.

He deletes them both before turning his phone off and deciding to sleep early.

When Kirishima wakes up, the house is empty. Most Sundays, his mom takes his younger siblings to the park for some exercise. He used to go with them before enrolling and getting accepted into U.A., but now he sleeps through it.

The good thing about Sunday is that he doesn’t have to go anywhere if he doesn’t want to, so he can take his time getting ready for the day. On Sunday, he leaves his hair down. He likes having the house to himself. It’s quiet, it’s clean, there are no small children to attack him from behind or use his arms to swing on.

Up until everyone gets home, he lounges on the couch with the TV as company, watching the news to see if anything exciting has happened recently, seeing an interview with one of the Pro Hero’s that he only listened to half of before getting something to eat.

Kirishima is two bites into an apple when there’s a loud pair of knocks at the door. His mother is so scatterbrained sometimes, she must have forgotten her house key.

“’Owmhin’—” he sort of yells out, mouth full of apple.

It’s not hard to believe though, with three small children chanting the word PARK!!!, she’s likely to get frazzled. He snickers to himself, moving towards the door at a relaxed pace. Apparently, he’s too slow, because she starts knocking again.

He swallows. “Alright, alright! I’m coming!” He can already hear her, don’t you yell at me, and huffs, unlocking the door before pulling it open—

“Fucking finally—”

Kirishima slams the door in Bakugou’s face. He waits for Bakugou to explode, whether literally of verbally, before slowly taking another bite of his apple. It’s not breakfast anymore, it’s comfort food that’s hard to swallow down by the anxiety coming back to life inside of him.

Ten, eleven, twelve seconds before Bakugou knocks again. Kirishima, the fool, opens the door, chewing slowly. He feels like he may throw up.

“We’re going to try this again,” Bakugou says with a sharpness to his voice that Kirishima has heard before. Bakugou takes a step forward, Kirishima takes a step back. “I’m coming inside.”

Kirishima swallows again, this time the apple bits choking him as his throat constricts around it. Conflict. Conflict with Bakugou. It’s happening. He’s done so well to avoid it, too—but… a man—a hero!—doesn’t avoid conflict.

Fuck.

Kirishima doesn’t say anything as Bakugou enters his house, shutting the door behind him. He stands in front of the door with his arms crossed, scowl hard on his face, and all Kirishima has at his disposal is anxiety and part of an apple. He’s going to lose the fight that Bakugou has brought to his home.

“So. What the fuck?” Bakugou asks after he gives Kirishima a long stare.

“What…” is all Kirishima can say.

Bakugou steps towards him again, unfurling his arms to jut a finger in Kirishima’s unsuspecting face. “What’s your fucking problem?”

Kirishima panics. “I don’t have a problem!”

“Then what the hell!?” shouts Bakugou, throwing both hands up over his head. “You haven’t talked to me for two fucking weeks, Racoon Face said you ignored her and the other idiots’ messages, so what the fuck gives, man? Are you too good for us now or something?!”

The usage of the word us tells Kirishima two things. One, the others are just as upset as Bakugou is, and two, Bakugou is trying to make it seem like he’s not upset by using them in his argument. Lumping himself in with a group makes him look like he doesn’t care as much as he does. It stings.

When Kirishima doesn’t respond, Bakugou takes yet another step towards him, poking Kirishima between the eyes with his pointed finger. “That’s it, then? You’re too fucking good for us?”

How can a person’s heart break so many times if they only have one? “No—”

Bakugou roars, “THEN WHAT THE FUCK IS—”

“Back OFF—” Kirishima finally snaps. He shoves Bakugou out of his face, knocking him into the door, and screams back, “I’VE NEVER BEEN TOO GOOD FOR YOU, YOU JERK—I’VE NEVER BEEN GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU IS MY PROBLEM!”

Bakugou blinks, expression locked in surprise. Kirishima wonders if it’s because he yelled back, or if it’s because of what he yelled. He stands there, fists half formed and read to punch Kirishima’s lights out, mouth open in stunned silence.

“DO—do you—” it hurts to yell. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Bakugou. “Do you get it now?”

“Is this about your crush?” Bakugou takes a minute to say.

When he puts it like that, Kirishima feels silly. Kirishima feels like an asshole. “…Yeah… and… yours on Uraraka.”

It’s not totally clear to Bakugou yet, so Kirishima takes in a shaky breath. “It’s stupid…”

“Tell me.” Says Bakugou. “I’ll be the one to decide if it’s stupid.”

Kirishima had first thought that avoiding Bakugou would make his problem disappear—that avoiding Bakugou would make it cease to exist. What it did instead was make things worse for him emotionally; some weird Bakugou-deficiency. Now that he’s standing right there, it’s like an over-dosage, suffocating Kirishima and making him forget how words work.

Putting everything together into a concise thought is impossible. He focuses on the door behind Bakugou when he opens his mouth.

“When you told me that you like Uraraka, it hurt.” He starts off. Kirishima braces himself for Bakugou’s interruption, but one never comes. “…And, when… I told you that I liked you… I thought you’d magically feel the same. But you didn’t, so I guess… it hurt even more that you weren’t into me.”

Bakugou still says nothing.

“So… um,” Kirishima scratches the back of his head, looking away from the door at an old, faded juice stain on the carpet. “I thought I could maybe… try to get over it and make you jealous at the same time if I hung out with Midoriya.”

“That part is stupid.” Bakugou tells him.

“Yeah, that’s what Todoroki said too, kinda…” Kirishima almost laughs.

He has nothing else to say, his mind isn’t forming any real responses that don’t involve crying (which he will not do in front of Bakugou). Bakugou observes him for while, waiting for something that won’t come out, and he sighs.

“You’re not entirely a fucking asshole, then,” Bakugou resolves.

Kirishima doesn’t look up at him just yet. “You really thought that I thought I was too good for the great Lord Explosion Murder?”

“See, I know you’re making fun of the name, but I still don’t see what’s mockable about it.” Bakugou returns. Is he trying to make Kirishima laugh? Whether he is or not, Kirishima can’t bring himself to do it so Bakugou returns to the subject at hand. “…Anyway. I confessed to Uraraka.”

“I know.” Kirishima says without missing a beat. This time, he does look up and meets Bakugou’s eyes.

“You know?”

“I was there. I was looking for you, but when I found you… you were in the middle of your confession.” Kirishima says. Bakugou stares him dead in the eye, but Kirishima doesn’t back down. “And I heard her response, too.”

It’s awkward, talking to Bakugou again after such a long time about the exact thing Kirishima dreaded. It’s awkward and painful, his chest feels like it’s caving in on itself. The weight of Bakugou’s stare is starting to crush him. He might let it.

“I cried.” Kirishima is louder than he intends to be. His purpose of telling Bakugou that isn’t to make him feel bad. “It felt a little better when I cried, but I almost made myself sick so I tried to take a nap in the classroom before everyone came back.” Bakugou frowns and his eyebrows pinch, making the bridge of his nose wrinkle. “It’s like… I told you how I felt and you couldn’t just reject me, you had to take it to the next level and get a girlfriend the day after. I—I mean, who does that?”

He sniffles. Kirishima is riling himself up, but these are things he’s kept in. These are things he’s been needing to say.

“I get it, okay, you’d never… you’d never date me,” Kirishima continues, gesturing with his apple-occupied hand. “But when you told me you liked her, you also said you weren’t going to do anything about it.”

That’s all he’s got. Bakugou mulls over it in silence, never taking his eyes away from Kirishima’s. In attempt to not ruin the moment, Kirishima takes a very slow, small bite of his apple to avoid the loud crunching noise. He manages a second and a third before Bakugou shoves his hands in his pockets and speaks up.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

Kirishima is dumbfounded. “That’s… that’s all you—”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Bakugou repeats, louder this time. “As in, I didn’t ask her out, shithead. I wanted to get the confession out of the way, that’s it. Her saying she liked me back was an unexpected bonus, but… I didn’t ask her out. She’s not my girlfriend.”

That… explains a lot of things, actually. It explains why they didn’t interact in and out of class with much more than glances. It explains why Midoriya hasn’t said anything about their relationship. It explains all of the things that Kirishima has avoided figuring out for himself in the past two weeks like the sad coward he is.

“And,” Bakugou adds, somehow the single word cutting at Kirishima. “I didn’t fucking specify that I would never date you. I said guys. As a whole,” he knocks his head from side to side with each point for emphasis. “Get it? You’re not being singled out here.”

Kirishima gives Bakugou a nod.

“And,” Bakugou continues on. “If you ever tell me you’re not good enough again, I will explode your ass to the moon.” There’s a hint of real anger in his tone. “Like, what the actual fuck makes you think I would even be here if you weren’t worth it?”

Bakugou has never once stated out loud that Kirishima is his best friend. He’s come close a few times, in his own words… and this is certainly the closest he’s gotten. Kirishima feels the wetness in his eyes, tries to cover his expression by bring his apple to his mouth, but suddenly the apple is in Bakugou’s hand.

“Dude,” he says and pauses. “Kirishima,” he amends.

Kirishima breaks like a cracked dam.

Bakugou eats the rest of Kirishima’s apple, but it’s okay.

They lay on Kirishima’s bed now, side by side. Kirishima’s arms fold comfortable beneath his head while Bakugou’s are crossed over his chest. Kirishima had heard his siblings before seeing them, and in his distraught state insisted that he and Bakugou finish their talk in his room. Bakugou didn’t argue.

“You like her a lot,” Kirishima says after they’ve been there for a bit, settled into the quiet, closed off space of his bedroom. There’s a poster of the Crimson Riot on his bedroom door that he’s focusing on.

“Yeah,” Bakugou answers. “We text sometimes. I walked her home the other day. I think she wanted to hold my hand.”

It stings, but not as much as before. “That’s cute, actually.”

“Makes me feel gross.” Bakugou mumbles.

“Fuzzy?” Kirishima offers, smiling a little. His face is still damp.

“Fuzzy.” Bakugou confirms.

The room grows silent again, but it’s comfortable. Kirishima listens to his and Bakugou’s steady breathing, not quite synced. Kirishima missed him.

“I didn’t want to ask her out without seeing if you were okay with it first,” Bakugou’s words catch Kirishima off guard. Kirishima turns his attention away from the poster to look at Bakugou, only to see that he’s already looking back.

“Really? What happened to Mr. I-Do-Whatever-the-Hell-I-Want?” Kirishima teases. Bakugou rolls his eyes, which only has Kirishima smiling more. “That means a lot, though. You really do have your moments, don’t you?”

“Don’t make me regret coming over.” Bakugou warns him without a trace of bite in his bark. It makes Kirishima snort on the edge of a laugh.

“…So, I owe the others an apology, too, huh.”

“Fuck them,” (yeah) “they don’t need shit,” (you absolutely do.) “they’ll get over it.” (they are very upset, you fucking asshole.) Says Bakugou.

Kirishima laughs at the way he says it, stern and gruff but not at all in a way that translates mean-spiritedly. That’s Bakugou for ya, Kirishima muses with a real smile.

“Thanks for coming over, Bakugou.” He says after a while. “I… needed it.”

“Yeah, well, shit wasn’t gonna get done if I didn’t.” Bakugou says back.

He’s right, and Kirishima knows he’s right because Kirishima sure as shit wasn’t going to fool with it. Nope, he’d just let his heart rot in his chest and die. Well. Maybe not. But pessimism and negativity were all he’s had in him for weeks; there was no room for sunshine in his clouded head.

“You’re right,” he confirms, getting a mutter of I know I am from the blond as Kirishima sits up. “It just means a lot that you didn’t just get pissed off and give up on me. I know you’re not that type of guy, but… it’s good reassurance,” he smiles over his shoulder at Bakugou. “So thanks.”

Bakugou stares at him in dead silence before Kirishima moves off his bed in search of his phone. “…You’re welcome,” he says softly in a voice that isn’t Bakugou-like at all.

Then again, Kirishima knows a lot of Bakugou-like things that don’t seem Bakugou-like at all. He prides himself on it as Bakugou’s best friend.

Another week and a half goes by, this time without incident, and Kirishima is back in Bakugou’s bedroom to study. It felt good to be back there, in his home away from home where Bakugou’s mom was way happier to see him when they walked inside than she was to see her own son. (“Katsuki move over so I can give Eijirou-kun a hug!” “You move, woman, we have work to do!”)

Welcoming as always, Bakugou’s room hadn’t changed at all. Kirishima isn’t sure why he thought it would have, but hey, it’s been a while. They take to Bakugou’s bed and immediately start working in comfortable silence where occasionally Bakugou will tell him that’s wrong and don’t you know anything and are you still on that question? Because he cares and wants to help and encourage, in his own special way only he can.

The ding of his phone is the only thing that pulls Bakugou’s attention off of his work. Kirishima grins at his homework, knowing exactly what cute brown eyed girl that just might be. He can’t contain himself when it dings a second time, moments after Bakugou’s first response.

“You should ask her out,” Kirishima says, nose-deep in his textbook.

Bakugou pauses mid-text to consider it, but doesn’t look at the other boy. “…huh?”

“Ask her out already!” This time it comes out more demanding. Kirishima beats his fist against Bakugou’s mattress for effect, making Bakugou’s pencil bounce out of place. “Do it or you’re a wuss.”

“A wu—hey, fuck you!” Bakugou is pouting. “I’ll never be a wuss.”

“’Kay… So ask her out.”

“Why?”

“Because you want to?” Kirishima looks at him like he’s stupid. “Don’t not do it on account of me. Like, I’m still gay, but what’s stopping you other than that?”

Bakugou ponders the question for about half a second. “…Notihin.”

“So! Do it!” Kirishima nods with his words. “You could take her out to eat, or you guys could go see a movie, or both is always an option, that’s what they usually do in romance movies.”

“Why do you know that?”

“Because I have a mom who loves romance movies with macho guys, and I love macho guys.” C’mon Bakugou, it’s self-explanatory. Bakugou looks at his phone again, thumb lingering over the keyboard. Kirishima lightly punches his thigh. “If anythin’, you could ask her what she wants to do. Ask her if she wants to ‘hang out sometime’ and be casual about it.”

Bakugou glares at his phone as if it’ll do the job for him. “That’s what Racoon Face said what’s-her-name did, isn’t it?”

“You do listen when Ashido talks!” Kirishima gasps.

“No.” Bakugou hisses. “Fuck no.”

Kirishima just laughs until Bakugou glares pointedly at him, then composes himself with only a few giggles getting through. He pushes once more. “Ask her out.”

Bakugou looks at his phone.

“Ask her ouuuut.”

Bakugou closes his eyes.

“Do it, Blasty.”

Bakugou’s presses his thumb to the phone. He’s quiet. Kirishima stares blankly at him, silently waiting. He isn’t silent for long, not at all. “Did you do it?”

Before Bakugou can answer, his phone dings once more. They look at each other before Bakugou dares to look at the message. Kirishima catches a glimpse of the hint of pink dusting Bakugou’s cheeks as Bakugou looks up at him again.

The world stops the moment Bakugou looks up at him. Kirishima has de ja vu, thinking back to a similar situation where his heart was ready to leap from his chest. Bakugou’s eyes are so full of hope when he sees them that Kirishima completely forgets why he ever thought he should stand in the way of Bakugou and Uraraka becoming something more than he and Bakugou could ever be.

When the earth resumes turning, Bakugou might be smiling.

“She said she’d love to.”