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“So, what are you being for Halloween?” the question comes out of nowhere, and Bakugou does not like it. Mainly because he’d completely forgotten it was Halloween in a week, and because Kirishima being the asker of such a stupid question somehow changes the meaning of it completely.
“Why do you care?” he retorts. An attempt in trying to cover up the fact that he’s costume-less.
“I dunno,” Kirishima shrugs, and then a grin crosses his face. Bakugou can practically see the lightbulb go off over his head. “Oh, wait, maybe we could match or something!”
“No way in hell.”
“What? Why not?”
“It’s fucking stupid. Who even cares about Halloween?” At this, every student gathered in the classroom of 1-A collectively gasps in horror. Aoyama pretends to pass out in Uraraka’s arms.
“Did you seriously just say that?” Ashido says, like Bakugou just murdered a person or something. “Wow. Wow.”
“God, Bakugou,” Sero says judgmentally. “I knew you were a party pooper, but this is too far.” Ugh. Bakugou wants to tape his mouth shut.
The most scandalized is Tokoyami, who wipes a tear from Dark Shadow’s eye. Tsuyu and Shouji crowd over him, patting him on the shoulder. Shouji shoots Bakugou a dirty look.
“For fuck’s sake,” Bakugou growls. “It’s just one day. We don’t even trick-or-treat and shit.” Besides that, Halloween isn’t even his least favorite holiday. Anything’s better than Valentine’s Day. Now that’s some dumb shit.
“Whatever!” Ashido says loudly. “We can still have costume parties, and do haunted houses, or hold class festivals, and-”
“That’s it!” Uraraka exclaims. “Why don’t we have a festival at Yuuei?” More lightbulbs go off.
“Hey, that’s not a bad idea-”
“Sounds really fun-”
“I’m down!”
“A school festival, you say?” Iida adjusts his glasses dramatically. “Leave it up to the class president!” At that moment, Aizawa takes the perfect opportunity to waddle through the doorway in his sleeping bag.
“Get in your seats, everyon-”
“AIZAWA-SENSEI!”
“Can we have a school festival?”
“For Halloween?”
“With, like, a haunted house and stuff?”
He promptly waddles back out.
“Here’s what we have so far,” Iida says proudly. “Principal Nedzu agreed to hold a festival with six events in total, as there are two classes for each year. Class 1-A will be in charge of, drumroll please…” No one drumrolls. He starts tapping his own fingers on a desk.
“A haunted house!” A mixed chorus of cheers and applause fills the classroom.
“Whoooo!” Uraraka jumps up and down, beaming. “That’s the one I wanted!”
“Indeed,” Iida agrees. “However, there are rules we must follow!”
“Rule one: we are not allowed to use our quirks to injure or physically touch anyone.” Sero actually groans.
“Geez, what were you planning?” Kaminari asks in concern.
“Look, nothing terrible, I just wanted to, like, wrap people up in tape when they walked in or something!”
“Rule two: participants in the haunted house must have complete control over any quirks they plan on using.”
“Ooh, sucks to suck, Todoroki.”
“It’s just his fire side,” Midoriya chimes in. He gives Todoroki a shy smile. The corners of Todoroki’s lips turn up before he looks away, cheeks pinker than they were half-a-second ago. God, they’re gross. Absolutely disgusting.
“Alright, last rule: you must wear an appropriate costume to school, and if you wish to be a part of the haunted house, feel free to make your own costume for that during classtime!”
“Without further ado-” Iida somehow materializes a giant box filled with building supplies out of nowhere. Bakugou’s starting to think that’s he’s pulling it out of his ass like everything else he’s saying. “-let the festive activities begin!”
Kirishima taps Bakugou’s shoulder as people start spreading out, taking seats in chairs, on the floor, the tops of desks. “Hey, wanna be my partner?”
“For what?”
“We’re painting pieces of cardboard—I mean, the walls,” Kirishima holds up a bucket of black paint. “Spooky, huh?”
“Whatever.” He grabs a paintbrush anyway and dips it into the bucket. After a few minutes of careful strokes—because he knows how to be careful, goddamnit—his first board is a shade of matte black, front and back.
“You’re done already?” Kirishima’s eyes widen. “How?”
Bakugou looks away so he can stare down at his hands and not see Kirishima looking at him like that. Kirishima’s fucking face. Always out to get him.
“It’s easy. Just paint it and shit.”
“Gee, you don’t say,” Kirishima says, laughing. His eyes light up as he dips his brush into the bucket. “Wait, can you look at me?” Bakugou rolls his eyes, but tilts his head up. Kirishima reaches out with his paintbrush and dabs black paint on Bakugou’s cheek.
“Agh—what the hell are you doing?!”
“Stay still!”
“No, you fuck-”
“Language!”
“Shut the hell up.”
“Better,” Kirishima admits. He cocks his head at Bakugou and then smiles, satisfied. “Okay, I’m done.”
“What the hell did you do?” Bakugou growls, already moving his hand up to smear away the paint on his cheek, but Kirishima grabs his wrist before he can.
“Oh, nothing,” Kirishima says innocently. Too innocently. “Just drew a bat.” He smiles wildly, showing off his teeth. “Please keep it!”
Bakugou narrows his eyes. “Why?”
Kirishima shrugs, and his face splits into a smile again.
“It suits you.”
“Welcome home, Katsuki—what the hell is on your face?” his mother, Mitsuki, asks as soon as he walks through the front door of his house.
“Fuck if I know,” he shoots back, already making his way up to the stairs to his room.
“Not so fast,” Mitsuki steps in front of him, leaning down to pinch his cheek.
“Get off me!”
“Not before you explain yourself! That’s a heart on your cheek, Katsuki. A heart. What the hell?”
Bakugou forces her off, rubbing his cheek. “What the fuck-”
“Language!”
“-do you mean?”
“Are you dumb, sweetheart? There is. A black heart. On. Your cheek. Pretty self-explanatory.”
“No way,” Bakugou says through gritted teeth. “He said he drew a bat, that-”
“He? Who’s he?” Mitsuki says curiously. “Oh, is it that friend of yours? With the red hair?”
“Shitty hair,” Bakugou mutters.
“Kirishima, right?” his mother muses. “God, Katsuki, you’re as red as a tomato! Is Kirishima... special to you?” She says special like it’s a word that easily replaces the damned true love of his life or something, and he hates, hates, hates how it sounds out of someone else’s mouth.
Bakugou doesn’t even know what Kirishima is to him. His friend, maybe best friend, but shoot him dead if he ever says that out loud. A partner. Someone he can trust.
Take my hand!
A million thoughts run through his head, flashing by so fast that they only remain for a second before leaving; Kirishima’s eyes, kind, warm. His hair, shitty as it is, how soft it looks when it’s down, his smile—holy shit, his smile. Bright, beautiful, hurts to look at.
And Bakugou wishes he would never have to stop looking.
“So?” Mitsuki crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows, the most mom-like pose in existence.
He feels his cheeks flush and heads towards the stairs as fast as possible. “So what?”
“It’s Kirishima,” he says quietly, not bothering to turn around. “He means whatever the fuck you want him to.”
Wrong answer.
“Okay, so he’s your boyfriend, got it, thanks!”
Boom! Little explosions go off. “NO, HE’S NOT, DAMN IT!"
“Wow,” Kirishima grins. “You look amazing.”
“Shut up,” Bakugou grumbles, further adjusting the horns of his demon costume. The entirety of Class 1-A had concluded he was the scariest person in the vicinity, therefore deciding—without his consent—to make him dress like a vengeful spirit from hell, and place him at the very end of the haunted house. A grand finale, or whatever.
“Yaomomo really is good at making costumes,” Kirishima says thoughtfully. “Her quirk comes in handy, huh?” Bakugou tries not to flinch. He’s not the jealous type of person (mostly because he’s never had anything to be jealous of), but he has eyes, and Yaoyorozu is...good-looking. Objectively speaking! But still. She has a...well-proportioned body, or whatever.
“Yeah,” he mutters, and says nothing more. It’s quiet, though, which he appreciates around basically every person alive, but it sounds strange with Kirishima. Bakugou clears his throat.
“What are you doing?”
“Hmm?”
“For...this,” he bites his tongue. “What’d Four-Eyes assign you?”
“Aw, why don’t you call it by its name?” Kirishima teases. “Iida has a name, too.”
“It’s a stupid name. Just call it a school festival.”
“Hey, me and Kaminari helped come up with it!”
“You didn’t do shit.”
“Whatever,” Kirishima rolls his eyes, still grinning. “Anyway, for the Yuuei Eve of Hallowmas Festival, I’m handing people shock blankets after they come out of the haunted house. And walking around to see the other classes and stuff. Tetsutetsu said Class 1-B is doing a pumpkin carving contest, I think?”
“Who?”
“Tetsutetsu?” Kirishima prompts, raising an eyebrow. “He has like, almost the same quirk as me, but with metal? We’re bros?”
“Don’t know him.”
“Oh, come on, I know you do, we walk past him, like, every day!”
“Listen up, everyone!” Aizawa drawls, walking through the doorway in a nicely-put-together mummy costume. “All participants in the haunted house must enter it now. Everyone else can either help hand out drinks and shock blankets after people are done with it, or go visit other classrooms.”
“Di-did you say shock blankets?” Midoriya asks nervously. “Why do we need those?”
“Man, we went all out with this, to be honest,” Kaminari admits. “I thought we might wanna tone it down, but I guess it’s too late…”
“When you think about it, anyone could be traumatized by Bakugou, so it does make sense,” Sero adds.
“Huh?! What’d you say?!”
“Oi,” Aizawa interrupts. “Get in your spots now, we’ll be starting soon.”
They all start scrambling around, either towards one of the training rooms where the haunted house was built, or out towards other corners and classrooms of the school. Bakugou’s gaze lingers on Midoriya and Todoroki, both of them carrying a pile of blankets and thermoses of hot chocolate and cider as they walk next to each other, shoulders brushing. Jesus Christ, they’re actually wearing matching costumes. He looks away after that. Not because they’re still doing disgusting coupley shit, but for reasons he doesn’t really know the answer to.
“Hey, see you later,” Kirishima waves as him and Bakugou enter the training room. “Do your best!”
Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Like hell I will.”
“You gotta aim for the top, right?” Kirishima pats him on the shoulder. His touch lingers even after his hand is gone. “As always.”
“Okay,” Bakugou coughs out, taking a step back to hide how sweaty his palms are. His body feels too hot, from his shoulder to his face to everything else.
Kirishima gives him a weird, searching look, and then waves again before following Midoriya and Todoroki.
Leaving Bakugou to another thirty-something minutes of scaring unsuspecting people. Great. Just great.
“Bakugou!” Uraraka calls him over when he steps into the haunted house entrance. As much as he hates to admit it, it is well-decorated. Cobwebs hang over a pitch-black ceiling, blood dripping down the walls. A skeleton with missing bones stands in the corner, followed by a shelf of jars filled with fake brains and organs.
"I saw you and Kirishima talking," she beams. "How's it going? With him?"
"What?"
"You know..." she continues, in an annoying sing-song voice. "It's kinda obvious you're, um, interested in that area!"
"Go die."
"Rude!"
"Does it look like I care?"
"If it was Kirishima, yes!"
Bakugou holds his hand up in Uraraka's face, so close that sparks almost singe her nose. To her credit, she doesn't flinch-only backs up into a defensive position.
"Look, I'm trying to help you!" she insists. "You should just tell him how you feel! I know it's super scary, but after you do it, it's like a whole load of stress off your back."
"I'm not scared of anything," he snaps. "And it's...it's not like that."
"What do you mean?"
He rolls his eyes. Does he really have to spell it out like an idiot? "He doesn't...Kirshima's not..." Bakugou shakes his head, turning around. "It's fucking stupid. He's never going to know."
"You don't know until you try," Uraraka says helpfully. "Also, just saying, but Kirishima isn't as oblivious as you think. Like, have you ever thought that you're being oblivious?"
"The hell are you trying to say?"
"Oh, nothing. Nothing. At. All!"
A brief list of things and people that Bakugou hates; new and old.
1. Wimps, cowards, the like.
3. What's-his-face blonde kid from Class 1-B. Mono? Is that his name?
4. Kirishima. Kirishima, Kirishima, Kirishima (not really. Not really at all).
5.
Deku.6.
Himself.7. Cold weather. Snow can die.
8. HAUNTED HOUSES. THEY CAN GO DIE.
As soon as he steps out of the back entrance to the haunted house, it feels like an entirely new world. He's tempted to take in a deep breath and inhale the fresh air, a million times better than dusty cobwebs and what looks (and smells) like purplely-brown mold.
Needless to say, it almost takes the shit out of him when he feels warm fleece draping around his shoulders out of nowhere. He's spent too long in a tiny, pitch-black room with fake bats flying and squeaking above his head.
"Good job," Kirishima says from behind him. "You scared the hell out of people. What'd you do?"
Bakugou adjusts the blanket grudgingly. "I don't know? I just yelled? It wasn't rocket science."
"Eh, we still got a lot of customers, though. The screams might have bursted my eardrums. Want some cider?"
He takes a cup and chugs it in three seconds flat. Kirishima doesn't even have the time to look surprised. "Uhhh, want another one? You can savor it this time!"
Bakugou nods and grabs another cup, taking a slower sip. "What time is it?"
"12:46. Oh, wait, that reminds me, I said I'd meet Tetsutetsu in his classroom at 12:40!" Kirishima jumps up and looks Bakugou up and down. "Um, wanna come with?"
Eh. Does he really? He's only meet Tetsutetsu or whatever his name is once, and he doesn't really want to see him again.
"No, I still have two more shifts. Fucking sucks."
Kirishima pouts. "Well, if you say so. I'll try and be quick!"
You should just tell him how you feel!
Is he special to you?
Isn't as oblivious as you think.
"Wait," the words catch in Bakugou's throat, but he reaches for Kirishima's wrist anyway. Kirishima raises his eyebrows.
"I," he swallows. Stupid sweaty, clammy palms. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
"You what? Are you feeling okay?" Kirishima asks in concern. "If you have like, a fever or something, I can-"
He doesn't finish his sentence.
When Bakugou leans in, nothing spectacular happens. Time doesn't stop. The world is still spinning. Kirishima drops his half-full cup of hot chocolate as their lips meet. He needs chapstick.
But his body is warm, warmer than it should be, and he can almost feel his heart beating out of his chest, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.
He likes Kirishima, that's why. Damn it.
When they pull apart, Bakugou can feel Kirishima's breath on his mouth. Their noses brush, and people are staring at them inconspicuously. He can see someone (Uraraka, probably) taking a picture out of the corner of his eye.
"Oh," Kirishima says softly, his voice small. "I...wasn't expecting that."
"Sorry," Bakugou mutters, taking a step back. "That's not—I wasn't-"
"No, no, that's not what I meant," Kirishima smiles sheepishly. "I've kind of been waiting for you to notice for, like, a month?"
"What?"
"I'm sorry! I-I didn't even know if you liked me back, so I didn't want to freak you out!"
"You freak me out all the time, and I don't give a fuck."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?!" Kirishima laughs, meeting Bakugou's eyes.
"Do you still hate Halloween?"
"Hell yeah," Bakugou grumbles. "Haunted houses and shit."
"But I don't hate you."
Kirishima's eyes widen, and his smile gets bigger and bigger until it stretches from the corners of his face.
"So soppy," he beams. "You know what?"
"I don't hate you, too."