Chapter Text
The hallway was depressingly pale, only filled by the muffled music coming through the door and Kamninari’s foot tapping on the floor. Eijiro leaned against the brick wall behind him and stared at a poster that advertised for either some sort of drama club or a theatre play, he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t a very good poster if it didn’t even make clear what it was advertising.
“Stop it,” Jirou hissed, elbowing Kaminari. “It’s freaking me out.”
Kaminari looked up. “Stop what?”
“Your foot,” Mina said. “Are you nervous?”
“Hell no. I’ve already been in there, what would I be nervous about?”
“About whether you’ll get in or not?” Jirou played with one of the holes in her ripped jeans, twirling loose strands of black fabric between her fingers.
“Not like you have to worry about that.” Kaminari shrugged, but he kept his foot still for once. “Shit, why is this even taking so long?”
“He probably wants to show off,” Eijiro said.
“He’s gonna annoy them until they let him in.” Kaminari leaned his head against Jirou’s shoulder. “Can’t they just throw him out already? I’m starving.”
“Is it a good sign when it takes that long?” Mina started pacing up and down the hallway again. “I mean my audition didn’t take that long, is that a bad sign? There’s no way it’s a good sign when it’s –“
Jirou groaned and buried her face in Kaminari’s hair. “Now you’re freaking me out too,” Eijiro said. “You’re a singer, they probably didn’t need to hear that much to know you’re good.”
“Sorry,” Mina said, but she didn’t stop pacing.
Eijiro didn’t notice the music had stopped until the door opened. Bakugo scowled when he saw them, carrying the case with his trumpet in his hand, his lips still swollen. “The fuck are you doing here?”
“How did it go?” Eijiro asked, ignoring his question.
Bakugo closed the door behind him. “Perfect.”
“So we can finally eat.” Kaminari got up and stretched. “You think you’re gonna get in?”
“Of course I’m gonna get in,” Bakugo said as if the question was offending him. “Did you fucking wait for me?”
“Yep. We’re gonna have dinner together.” Eijiro smirked and got up as well. “A celebration if you want to.”
“Not a celebration,” Jirou said quickly, letting Kaminari pull her up on her feet. “Not before we even know if we got in or not.”
“You’re fucking stupid,” Bakugo said. “Of course you got in. Are we leaving now or what?”
Mina was the one who usually picked the places they went to, mostly because she was also the one who complained when they visited the same place too often. Today they ended up in an American style diner that looked like someone had copied it straight out of a modern movie that took place in the 50s. It was hard to fit into the booth with their instruments. Eijiro found himself between Mina and Bakugo while Kaminari and Jirou shared a bench with Bakugo’s trumpet because he had refused to put it on the floor.
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t make it,” Kaminari said. “I definitely screwed up on a few notes.”
“I’m gonna be so mad if you don’t.” Jirou stole an onion ring from his plate. “We’ve spent all summer practicing.”
Bakugo leaned back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You should have known it was a hopeless cause.”
“Hey, be nice dude.” Eijiro took a fry and dunked it into Mina’s milkshake.
“Did you really just fucking do that?” Bakugo looked at him as if he had just kicked a puppy. “That’s the grossest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“You should try it before you judge.”
“Hell no.”
“He’s right,” Jirou said just when Kaminari took a fry from Eijiro’s plate and dunked it into Mina’s milkshake as well. “That’s gross.”
“You should try it, Kyoka. It’s actually not that bad.” Kaminari smirked at her, but she just rolled her eyes, exchanging one of those glares with Bakugo, like they always did when they were both siding against the rest of them.
“Look who’s there,” Mina said and waved at someone.
Eijiro could feel Bakugo tense next to him even before he looked up. “Stop waving, I don’t want to fucking talk to them,” he hissed.
Midoriya and Uraraka were already making their way to their table. His smile was wide, full of the genuine naivety that made Kirishima wonder how there had ever been a time when he and Bakugo had gotten along. Sometimes he wasn’t sure if Midoriya just hadn’t gotten the memo yet or if he actively refused to believe that their relationship was something that couldn’t be fixed.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” He stopped in front of the table, the case of his trumpet in his hand. Uraraka was dragging the ridiculously large case of her baritone saxophone behind her. “You’ve been auditioning too, right? Hope it went well.”
“Of course it fucking did,” Bakugo growled.
“Can we stop talking about the audition?” Jirou buried her face in her hands. Kaminari started to absently run his hand up and down her back.
“If you don’t stop that I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Bakugo said.
“I’m sure it went well.” Uraraka leaned against the case of her saxophone and smiled at them. She was the last person Eijiro had ever expected to be completely unimpressed by Bakugo, but here she was, pretending he hadn’t even said anything.
“Why don’t you sit with us?” Mina said, either not aware of Bakugo’s reaction to Midoriya or, more likely, actively ignoring it. “Grab two chairs from the table over there.”
Bakugo was about to say something, but Jirou threw a napkin at him and he stopped. “We just wanted to go through some notes from physics class,” Uraraka said. “But thanks for the invitation.”
“It was nice seeing you,” Kaminari said, his arm now lazily wrapped around Jirou’s shoulders. “Good luck getting in.”
“Thank you!” Midoriya said. “Wouldn’t it be great if we all got to be in the band together?”
Eijiro laid a hand on Bakugo’s shoulder because he knew he was this close to blow the entire place up. “That would be awesome.”
“See you around.” Uraraka waved at them before she turned around and almost pulled Mirodiya with him. Eijiro knew that she wasn’t as clueless to Bakugo’s and Midoriya’s conflict as everyone thought she was, probably more aware of it than most people.
“Fucking idiot,” Bakugo growled next to him.
“Dude, calm down. There’s no way he’s gonna get in without you getting in anyway.” He squeezed Bakugo’s shoulder, but he only grunted.
“If anyone’s not gonna get in it’s me,” Kaminari said, taking another fry to dunk it into Ashido’s milkshake which earned him an annoyed sigh from Jirou.
“Stop it, guys.” Mina rolled her eyes. “We’re all gonna get in and I don’t want to hear anything else from you. We’ll practice together every day, rock all competitions and have an amazing time. What am I even doing this for if not to spend time with my best friends?”
“Scholarships. Ambitions. Your fucking love for music if you want to.” Bakugo stole one of Eijiro’s fries, either because they were public property now or because he couldn’t let the others claim them without demonstrating dominance as well.
“Shit, did you have to mention the scholarship?” Eijiro leaned back and nervously drummed his fingers on the table.
“You’re not just doing it for the scholarship though,” Bakugo said.
“Yeah, I mean… I always loved music, it was the only thing I was a bit good at, so I figured it was my chance to get into a good university. I guess you could say I don’t only do it for the scholarship, but also not only for the music.”
“You wouldn’t have needed that if you had put all that effort into your course works.”
Eijiro shrugged. “I also love playing with others. You know, when the whole band just becomes this whole thing, everyone working together just for the best sound possible.”
“Why did you start making music, Bakugo?” Mina asked.
Bakugo slapped Eijiro’s wrist so he would stop drumming on the table. “I picked up a trumpet and I was good at it,” he said. Eijiro looked up. He hadn’t expected him to give an honest answer. “When you’re good at something there’s no excuse not to pull through with it.”
“I started playing saxophone because of Marilyn Monroe,” Kaminari said. “My dad was really into old American movies and there’s one where she says she can’t resist guys who play the saxophone, so I was determined to learn it.”
“Sometimes I don’t know why I still put up with you.” Jirou slowly shook her head. “You realise Marilyn Monroe is dead, right?”
“Why do you have to be such a downer all the time?” He ruffled her hair and she slapped his hand away. “I came for the ladies and stayed for the fun of it. Ashido has a point, being a part of a band is dope.”
“If we get in”, Eijiro said. “At least Bakugo and Jirou don’t have to worry.”
“Stop saying that,” Jirou said. “It’s not like… I mean no matter how good I am, there’s a good chance they’ve found someone who’s better than me.”
“Stop that,” Bakugo growled. “There are stupid fucking things coming out of your mouth and it has to stop.”
“I’m sure you’ve made it into the band,” Kirishima said with a straight face that meant he actually really thought that was what this was about.
“Obviously.” Katsuki shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, eying the crowd in the hallway in front of them. “Obviously I’ve made it into the fucking band.”
“Yes!” a familiar voice shouted in front of them. Kaminari made his way through the crowd, beaming at them. “First alt!”
“Congratulations!” Kirishima said.
“No, congratulations to you, dude.”
Kirishima had always been painfully easy to read. His face went through a bunch of emotions in sheer seconds, all from disbelief to cautious joy. Sometimes Katsuki wondered how he even did all these things with his face. “I’ve made it?”
“Yeah, both of you. Kyoka and Ashido, too.”
“Told you you’d make it,” Kirishima said, patting Bakugo’s shoulder.
“That’s not the fucking point,” he growled. For a moment he thought about asking Kaminari, asking him if he had become the first trumpet or if the band instructor had lost his fucking mind, but then he turned around to see it for himself.
He had to shove people aside to reach the pin board with the list. UA was one of the best universities of the country and being a member of its Big Band was a big deal, but the list didn’t give anything of that away. It was a plain sheet of paper with names scribbled on it in messy handwriting. He scanned the list for his name, not to see if it was on it but where.
4th trumpet – Iida Tenya
3rd trumpet – Todoroki Shoto
2nd trumpet – Bakugo Katsuki
1st trumpet – Midoriya Izuku
He felt everything inside of his body tense. His jaw clenched, his fingernails digging into his hands until it hurt. All he saw was the name where his should have been and all he felt was the irresistible urge to break something.
He was already reaching for the list when someone grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back. “You’re coming with me.”
“Fuck off”, he growled, but she had taken him by surprise and as soon as he remembered to fight back other students had already pushed themselves between him and the list. “I’m gonna kill you.”
“Yeah, I wanna see that.” Jirou let go of him. “Listen, I know you’re about to throw a temper tantrum over this, but –“
“I’m not throwing a fucking temper tantrum!” he yelled. “This has to be a fucking joke!”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest, face fucking unimpressed. Maybe that was the worst thing about her, that she acted like she didn’t care at all in situations in which it only made him angier. “At least you’re in.”
“It was never about that!”
“Then what is it about?”
“It doesn’t fucking matter because I’m not gonna do it. I’m not gonna play the second trumpet to fucking Deku, hell no.”
“You’re so throwing a temper tantrum right now, and it’s stupid and childish.” Her voice was calm, but her voice gave away how annoyed she was with him. “Get over it.”
“You don’t tell me what to do, little Miss MCR, I’m gonna –“
“Dude, chill.” Kirishima rested his hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong, you didn’t make it into the band? But Kaminari –“
“He’s the second trumpet and Midoriya the first,” Jirou said.
“I’m better than him!” Katsuki yelled, not giving a fuck about who heard him and who didn’t. “This is a fucking joke!”
“Okay, how about we go outside and –“
“I don’t want to fucking go outside, shitty hair,” he growled. “I –“
“Congratulations!” someone cheered behind him. He didn’t turn around, not even when he was suddenly pulled into the middle of a group hug. “We’ve made it!”
“Fuck, don’t touch me!” he yelled, too many arms and bodies around them when all he wanted was to punch something. Or someone, he wasn’t picky right now.
“Aren’t you happy you got in?” Uraraka said when they all pulled away from each other again.
“You know exactly what the answer to that question is, round face,” he growled. “Don’t pretend you’re fucking stupid.”
“You should listen to yourself for once.” Jirou rolled her eyes. “You realise they might change it up again? If you prove yourself you might get the first trumpet.”
“I don’t fucking care.”
“What, you’re scared he might end up being better than you?” Uraraka smirked at him. She knew exactly what she was doing.
“I’m gonna fucking kill you until –“
“And he calls me the broody one,” Jirou said.
“So you’re gonna back out because you think you can’t keep up with Midoriya?” Uraraka didn’t lose her sheepish grin. He really felt like punching her.
“How about you stop pretending you understand what this is about?”
“I need coffee,” Kirishima said all of a sudden. He pulled Katsuki away from the others by his backpack. “See you guys later!”
“The fuck are you –“
“I’m not gonna let you kill Uraraka,” Kirishima said as he kept pulling Katsuki down the hallway. Katsuki pushed his hand away, but he still kept following him. “I’m the bass trombone, she’s the baritone saxophone. We’re buddies now. The bass line is the most important part of a big band.”
“In your dreams.”
“Is this about you not getting the part or Midoriya getting it instead of you?”
He clenched his hands to fists again. Something he had always hated about Kirishima was that he could act so fucking dumb most of the time and then understand better than anyone else what he had been thinking. “It’s none of your fucking business,” he said. “Midoriya isn’t as good as I am. He’s good, but he can’t lead. It doesn’t make any fucking sense, but he always gets what he wants, doesn’t he? I didn’t just lose the part, I lost it to someone who doesn’t even deserve it.”
“Then show them how good you are and get that part you want so desperately.”
“I don’t want anything desperately, stop talking bullshit.” He still felt like destroying something, hitting something with his bare fist until it gave in to his anger and broke. “It’s not like I have another choice now.”
“Because of what Uraraka said?”
“Do you ever just stop talking for like five seconds? Why am I even talking to you, you’re wearing a fucking Hawaii shirt.”
Kirishima pushed the door open and they stepped outside. It was one the last warm autumn days, the time of the year when everyone freaked out over pumpkin themed bullshit everywhere and the new school year just having started. “Say what you want.” Kirishima smirked. “I can’t hear you about how good I look.”
She wasn’t even sure if she had actually been asleep. Someone shook her by the shoulder and she abruptly sat up, feeling dizzy. “What?”
“Someone’s throwing a fit in the hallway,” Denki said. “Make them shut up.”
“You really woke me up for that?” Now that he had said it Kyoka was hearing it too. People were talking on the hallway, and someone was playing a trumpet over all of it. “That’s Bakugo, isn’t it?” She immediately recognised his aggressive, high notes.
“Who else would play the trumpet in the middle of the night.” He stretched next to her. She didn’t even remember when they had went from lying on the blanket to curling up beneath it. “Jack, please. He’s gonna rip me apart.”
“But not me?”
“No, you’re immune. Please, someone’s gonna die tonight if no one stops him.”
“Idiot.” She got up anyway, picking up her sweater from the floor where it had been lying in between the usual mess of things he had thrown on the floor to forget about them. The screen of his laptop was black now. She rubbed her eyes. “What time is it even?”
“Half past twelve.”
“Someone’s definitely gonna murder him sooner or later.”
On the hallway the music was even louder. Aoyama and Sero were standing in front of Kirishima’s room, all three of them looking up when she closed the door behind her.
“Isn’t that Kaminari’s room?” Aoyama said and Kyoka felt her cheeks grow hot.
“We were watching a movie,” she mumbled. When she stepped closer it became obvious that the music was definitely coming from Bakugo’s room. “What’s going on here?”
“We were asking Kirishima to make it stop,” Sero said. “I’m not crazy enough to go in there myself.”
“Cowards.” Kyoka shook her head and walked past them to knock at the door of Bakugo’s room.
The music stopped. Aoyama’s eyes went wide before he turned around and headed back to his room. Sero stayed where he was while Kirishima stepped closer until he stood right next to Kyoka. There were footsteps behind the door before it was ripped open so hard she wondered how it wasn’t jumping right out of its angle.
“What?!” Bakugo glared at them, his hair a mess, his lips red and swollen, dark circles underneath his eyes.
“Man, it’s pretty late,” Kirishima said. He leaned against the doorframe, shoving himself forward so he couldn’t shut the door into his face. It was brave of him to assume that Bakugo wouldn’t just try anyway. “People want to sleep.”
“Do I look like I fucking care?”
“No, you don’t,” Kyoka said. “But if you don’t stop someone’s gonna throw your trumpet out of the window and I can’t guarantee it won’t be me.”
“Try me, Hot Topic.”
“What’s even going on?” Kirishima said. “By this time you’re usually long asleep.”
“What time is it even?” Bakugo asked.
“Half past twelve,” Kyoka said.
“Fuck.” Bakugo ran his hand through his hair. “What are you still doing here? I need to sleep and you’re the ones keeping me from it.”
“Yeah, get some rest, dude.” Kirishima stepped back.
“Don’t tell me what to do, Shitty Hair.” Bakugo slammed the door shut in front of them.
Kirishima buried his hands in the pockets of his joggers. “Man, that band thing is really getting to him and rehearsals haven’t even started.”
“I can still hear you!” Bakugo yelled from inside of his room.
“Band rehearsals are gonna be fun,” Kyoka said before she turned around to go back to her own dorm room. “Sometimes I really wonder how we’re still friends with him.”
Kirishima laughed. “Well, I have many reasons, but people acting like I’m some sort of Bakugo-whisperer isn’t one of them.”
“I can still fucking hear you!”