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The hair at the back of his neck was embarrassingly wet, but it made for a pleasing sensation when his swift exit from the crowded room caused cool air to blow onto him. His anger bristled over the condescending whistles and nervous bouts of laughter that scraped the skin in his ears, even through the muffle of the door. The thought that they assumed their position was high enough to use him as a topic of drama made his lunch tickle at the back of his throat.
With a hard swallow, Bakugou flounced his way over to the end of the grimy hall. He stood next to a radiator that was tarnished in amateur graffiti and stained with dirt, piss, and the whole nine yards. The wall was too thin and cracked to warrant the punch that Bakugou so desperately wanted to deliver. His anger was dimly satiated by his confidence that the wall literally could not withstand his fist of frustration, that it would crumble and open up to the room that he was trying to avoid in the first place. Bakugou scowled as the tension in the other room lifted and the chatter once again reared its ugly head.
To his left, the door that Bakugou previously slammed jiggled open. He couldn't help but smirk at the possibility that he might have jostled it out of its frame. This fraction of triumph was wiped when he spotted the fiery head of hair that peaked out from the side of the ruined entryway. The other was facing the opposite end of the wall, searching. Then his head turned to Bakugou, his target.
Kirishima then slammed the door behind him, just as Bakugou did; it was more forceful though, it had to be for the door to actually fit into its warped frame. Kirishima rushed over, his face pinched in irritated concern.
"What was that."
Bakugou pressed his back to the deteriorating wall and crossed his arms in a pitiful defensive stance. Kirishima was the only one that seemed to demand respect, he was the only one that Bakugou found himself fitting into. Bakugou examined the other through his eyelashes, Kirishima was in black clothes that accentuated the curves of his muscles, that highlighted his good areas, that featured the delicious jut of his hip bones. His eyes were blown wide but his brows were drawn in, which resulted in a gross mix of intensity, intimacy, and thickness.
It was humiliating to be in such a compromising position, but Bakugou couldn't bring himself to move his body under the impression of Kirishima's squared shoulders. The most he could do was lift his chin.
"What do you think it was?" Bakugou would have winced in response to the grimace that he was given.
"What do I think it was?" Kirishima parroted, "What do I think it was," he said again to himself in a whisper, his hands tapping at his thighs. "Bakugou, dude—"
Kirishima straightened, then slouched, then straightened a second time. This conveyed a desire that Bakugou was not willing to give to him. Bakugou had nothing to say to Kirishima and that was the end of it.
"Why are you being so quiet? You couldn't have been like this earlier?"
"Earlier when half-and-half was talking shit? I don't fucking think so, buddy," Bakugou's fire sparked once more and he stood with a greater presence.
Kirishima raised his eyebrows along with his voice, "You know Todoroki, man! You know he's like you, you know he's too blunt for his own good, he didn't mean it."
"Doesn't matter what he meant, it matters what he said. I'm not going to let some spoiled pretty-boy brat try and tell me about technique when his talent was served on a silver god damned platter!" Bakugou bared his teeth.
Kirishima laughs incredulously, "You know what? I'm sure no one, including myself, could have given a rat's ass if you said some shit to Todoroki, if you ruffled his feathers or something," Kirishima breathes in sharply, "If only that's what you did. Jesus, do you even know what you did?"
Bakugou rolled his eyes.
"You got so angry over a petty remark that you crushed the drink in your hand," Kirishima collapsed slightly, his hand raking through his hair, "And after it shattered you threw the shards of glass at Midoriya?"
The small heart in Bakugou's ribcage burned. Kirishima addressed it as if the action was blasphemous.
"Bakugou, why would you do that? Fuck dude, you're lucky everyone is drunk tonight, otherwise that would have been a huge deal," Kirishima smiled in hysteria.
"It's not a huge deal. You're making it a huge deal right now. This is your fucking fault."
"My fucking fault?" Kirishima puffed out his chest to appear more intimidating, he was ready to bring up a point Bakugou was sure, but a sigh came out instead, "okay, I'm not going there. I have absolutely no part in this other than knowing you as a person, I'm not going to let you manipulate me or whatever."
Kirishima took a deep breath and rubbed his temples in an attempt to calm down. Bakugou found this oddly attractive, but he was more irritated that he was the cause for Kirishima's exasperation. Kirishima's mouth pulled in a forced smile across his cheeks as he feigned indifference, "Hey, man. Let's just get back in there, you don't even have to apologize. We want you in there, dude, even if you do throw glass at people every now and then."
The sweat on Bakugou's hands started to spark. His anger was no longer with Midoriya or even Todoroki. It was replaced by some unforeseen animosity towards Kirishima. "Don't give me that shit like you care if I'm present or not. You could go on just fine without me."
Kirishima's calm turnaround clashed with the quick exhale from his nose, "I do care, I want you in there, Bakugou."
"That's not true. In this situation or any other, you could carry on your life perfectly if I wasn't there and you shouldn't be able to."
Kirishima barked aaforced laugh, "Well you're not exactly the finest glass of water, dude.
"I can't even comprehend how the talentless idiots in that room think they're remarkable enough to ignore me and go on without me, it blows my mind that they don't appreciate me."
Kirishima seemed to be listening to these words intently, it was clear that he really didn't understand the situation, "This isn't about you, let's just get back in there, okay? If not, you can just leave, you know that?"
Bakugou took a step towards Kirishima threateningly, "Look at you. What, do you think I'm your friend or something? I see it on your face, you love that you think that you're the only one who can get under my skin, you think it's so fucking cool that you think you can understand me."
"Bakugou, what the hell are you on about? This is what happens when you bottle up your feelings, you just say everything you have ever wanted to say whenever an opportunity comes up and the actual argument gets derailed," Kirishima's strained smile ceased, all of his muscles relaxing. All of which except for his eyebrows, which were furrowed in disappointment. It was obvious that he was completely exhausted. "I don't even know if this is something really on your mind or if it's just a deflection so you can avoid the real problem here."
Bakugou's hands found the collar of Kirishima's black shirt, "I don't deflect problems, you absolute dolt, I face them. You wouldn't know what that's like though, all you do is dirty your nose by kissing everyone's ass because you don't want to hurt feelings."
The sudden grip Bakugou had on Kirishima made the flame-headed boy jerk away, "If I did that, we wouldn't be having this argument right now. You're the goddamned master of twisting and stretching shit so far out of proportion just so you have a reason to throw a fit. I never get where the hell you're getting your material from, there is literally no reason for you to get so infuriated about the things that happen to you."
Kirishima tried to shove the other away, but Bakugou caught his wrist in the process, "Who the fuck do you think you are? Back at it again with this shit, Kirishima, I'm not your fucking friend! You're ordering me around as if your opinion matters more to me than the others."
Kirishima no longer tried to struggle, he started to sweat, but he didn't allow his expression to break, "Bakugou, I know I'm not your friend."
Bakugou's jaw unclicked from its set position for only a second, and then he drew back.
"I know that no one in there is your friend either," Kirishima rubbed at his throat before pointing at the door, "You know, I don't think I'm the only one who can get under your skin," Bakugou almost smirked, "because everyone gets under your skin, Bakugou. You'll distort whatever you hear into an attack against you so you have some fucked excuse to act like a child. You'll confuse a simple gesture of help to a damned insult against your ability."
There was prominent crackling only barely muted by Bakugou's fingers. Kirishima tried not to think about it because he knew he would be rendered speechless if it consumed him, "I don't think I understand you either. I can see how you think that, sometimes I think I'll have you down, but I never stop finding out new things about you, not even in the romantic way or anything, it's like peeling away the skin of something rotten. Man, I don't know, we all thought it was endearing in high school."
Bakugou's hostility smoldered down into an unpredictable burn. It was something that worried Kirishima to the point of collapsing his shoulders and turning his brows towards the sky. He didn't want to think about all of the new wrinkles that he was going to form during the course of this endeavor.
"It's not cute anymore. I know you don't like me or whatever but you're not a delightful guy to be around either. Do you think I like this?" Kirishima sighs, "Maybe you're right. If I wasn't so nice in the beginning, people wouldn't see me as some sort of mediator and expect me to flock to you whenever you flipped your next lid."
A growl sounded from Bakugou as he whipped around with a stomp that shook the deficient ceiling lights. Kirishima rolled his eyes as Bakugou shouts, "You'll call me the child but you'll get on your knees for whoever asks for it and you'll move along with the crowd. You say you hate conforming but there you go."
Kirishima calls, "Before you leave," Bakugou arched his back at this, "You make me sad sometimes. And I know you don't care because you don't like me but that's not the point I'm trying to make. Not only do you make me fucking miserable, but you make everyone else miserable too. We're good people man, we'd save you if you needed—"
"How many fucking times do I have to tell you I don't need saving—"
"Listen! Swallow your pride for five seconds. Hypothetically, if you were neck deep in shit we would help you out because we're heroes, because we all have history but besides that? If you up and moved out and we never saw you again I doubt anyone would bat an eye. It's because you make them miserable. Midoriya, Uraraka, Kaminari, Sero, Ashido, everyone."
Bakugou was done listening, he started moving for the door at the end of the hall. Kirishima took a step after him but ultimately rolled his eyes. "Bakugou, you're the worst. You don't gotta like me and you don't gotta like them either. You don't have to care about us specifically but something has to change. The only thing you do care about is being the number one hero, and you can't be like this if you want that to happen. Kids will be scared of you, adults will hate you."
Bakugou's grip on the door handle was so tight Kirishima was afraid for its condition. Kirishima mumbled "As much as you tell me we're not friends, you're still so important to me. Sometimes I want things to work with us but you make it too unlikely. I've told you things I have never told anyone else, we've done things together that I don't think I'll ever be able to do with anyone who isn't you. I may not have a clue about anything that goes on in your twisted head but I know this. I'm pretty sure you need me way more than I need you."
Kirishima relished the moment that Bakugou paused, the moment where his shoulders locked. Bakugou didn't turn around. After a very long moment, Bakugou slowly turned the knob and opened the door, but he did not exit.
"The way you act, you'll never be the way All Might was."
Bakugou heard the close of the door from Kirishima returning back into the bustle of the party that he resented so passionately. Kirishima mixed himself back into the crowd, he laughed, smiled, danced, and most notably, he drank. Anything to clear his mind. The incident was almost free from the heads of the party goers until a few screams sounded when a fist burst through the wall that separated them from the hallway. The fist withdrew back into the hall, and then, in the silence, there was the sound of pattering feet running away from the hall back into the dark city streets.