Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I actually can’t believe this. Does anyone have any acne cream?”

Uraraka was groaning at her predicament in the mirror, everyone sharing her sentiment. Pimple season really was the worst time of the year. They would have thought that outbursts of puberty-fuelled pimples would have passed when they entered college, but alas, that was not the case. Momo passed over a fresh bottle, even their resident clear-skinned classmate falling victim to breakouts of acne. The late autumn heat had everyone sweating a lot more than normal, and therefore their sweat glands had all collectively decided to be bitches. Denki flopped onto the sofa and started to lament, his complaining barely a rare occurrence anymore. 

“Have you guys noticed that Bakugou has the clearest skin ever? No pimples, no scarring, nothing. Seriously, it’s not enough to be ranked second in the whole year, and also be holding the title of hottest blonde? Unfair. I won't stand for it. He's hiding something.”

Kirishima opened his mouth to suggest that maybe it wasn’t about Bakugou’s skin at all, and just that he was still salty about the “unfair ranking”, as he put it, but when he tried to rack his remaining brain cells, searching for evidence for his point, he came up empty-handed. He hadn't ever seen Bakugou with pimples? Maybe he just had a killer facial care routine. As Denki tried to convince the others of his supposed ground-breaking theory, Bakugou walked into the room. It was true, there was nothing. You’d think after staring, kissing and thinking about a boy for hours would make you realise he had clear skin, but no. Maybe he was the one out of the two of them who actually needed glasses. He would have to borrow Bakugou’s contacts sometime.

“Dude, what the fuck. Are you a witch? What’s up with your skin?”

“What the fuck's wrong with my skin, fuckface?”

As Denki began to stutter out his explanation, still staring in a mixture of awe and anger, and short-circuiting in rage at Bakugou throwing a packet of crisps at his forehead, Bakugou grabbed a pair of headphones and slid out of the door. Of course he was wearing the heelys. They were the bane of Kirishima's existence. Constantly sliding everywhere, doing fancy tricks that he was well aware Denki would try and fail to do, because he liked it when Kami fell over. By this point, Kirishima was pretty sure there was a whole album in Bakugou’s camera roll dedicated to Kami’s embarrassing fails. And, then there was that one time he put a bed sheet over his head and slid around in the night pretending to be a ghost to freak people out. Kirishima hadn't been able to sleep for a week. Midoriya skipped into the room, pleasantly smiling like he knew all the secrets in the universe. Maybe he did. Kirishima had always thought people that nice had to be hiding something.

“I know why Kacchan has nice skin. It’s his deadliest secret.”

he said, completely ignoring the fact that the group assembled in the common room was hanging onto his every word, and twirled over to where Mina was sitting. You could tell he was insanely happy to spill Bakugou’s secrets. Once they'd gotten their stupid rivalry bullshit out the way (read; Bakugou stopped being such a stubborn bastard) their rivalry came more in the form of mario kart games and annoying each other by spilling long- treasured secrets.

“He has a makeup channel on youtube. It’s called Ground Zero, and he has about 2.3 million subscribers. So, you know, having nice skin is basically his whole career”

The room burst into uproar, with half of the class bombarding Midoriya with questions, and the other half scrambling to Shinso’s computer where he was frantically typing into the search bar of youtube. The first video that came up had been posted exactly a week ago, and was entitled “How to kill a man with your eyeliner”. That was Bakugou's homicidal tendencies down alright.

The video opened with Bakugou sitting in his room, a general shock at the fact that your closest friends don’t get to see your room and 2.3 mil strangers on the internet do???? Kirishima supposed he couldn’t blame him, the room was strewn with makeup. It might have given the secret away. Why did he even need to keep it a secret anyway? Well, Bakugou had always been secretive. Kirishima hadn't even been able to figure out he played the drums until about two months ago. Bakugou had a thing about secrets. Bakugou began to speak, and Kirishima re-focused on the video.

“Hello, assorted cowards. Today, we're going to piss off some old people, make some children cry and commit arson with how fucking fire this look is going to be. No pastel shit in this house, we’re looking to fucking murder any worthless loser who thinks they can talk to you.”

 Wow. Kirishima had told Bakugou that he should probably consider therapy for anger issues, but this was entertaining. He didn’t know what that said about himself. 

“We’re not gonna do any face stuff today, just focusing on the eyes. If you’re a veteran of this channel you’ll know the rules. For all the fucking losers out there, here they are. There will be no talking about the unspeakable things that you bitches like to scream about in the comments, or I’ll climb through your window at 3 am and pour cement in your ears.”

As Bakugou walked around the room, grabbing random palettes and checking them out, Eijiro snuck a glance around the people crowded around Shinso’s laptop. This was one of the best things Kirishima had ever seen, and judging from everyone else’s facial expressions, they felt the same. It was Bakugou through and through, each threat and curse colourful enough to force him to stifle giggles every three seconds. Suffice to say, there would be lots of talking about the monstrosities on his face, whatever they were.

“I hate freckles. Whoever made me probably gave me them just because they knew I would be too powerful if I was totally perfect. But honestly, they don't fit my vibe. I’m not fucking Cady, I’m what would happen if Regina George and Janis had a Steven Universe-esque fusion. Oh, here, I fucking found the fucking eyeshadow, now I can actually do what I came here to do.”

Bakugou’s weirdly strong  opinions on things were definitely something he’d have to examine later, but… Freckles? Those were so cute. Kirishima had made it his life’s mission to kiss all his freckles, and so far he’d done maybe 30. Dating Bakugou really was the best decision of his life.

“Fuck, I’m so glad that my class don’t know about this. I would literally never hear the end of it. Okay, this palette is pretty dark, but that’s what we need because are you really going to kill your deadbeat ex, asshole teacher or creepy street harasser with fucking baby blue? I think the fuck not. Get whatever colour goes best with your eyes, choose the version that says “do not fuck with me” and slap that fucker on there. I’m doing orange, mainly because, fuck you. Also, I look fucking amazing in it. Sometimes I think I should do community service just because orange."

“Get your eyelids all up in that shit, but give it some shape because otherwise it will look like you just got beat up. If that’s the look you’re going with, honestly, that’s fucking genius. Why piss a bitch off when you can just walk around a tescos looking like you’re two steps away from dying. For now, I’m going to stick to pissing off whoever's closest until they finally lose their shit and punch me. Boom, instant nice colourful eyeshadow. Great for days when you’re too fucking angry to put on your makeup.”

“Okay, now that you have a base, get some of that black and put it on the corners of your eyelid and some on the lower lashline. Whatever your goddamn eye colour, you can’t go wrong with black. Well, actually you can, which I'm sure a lot of you do frequently, but black always looks chaotic as shit so you can basically do whatever the fuck you want, which is how I like it.”

“Now you look pretty fucking badass, but you’re not right where you should be. This is making children hide and sending off a warning vibe, but this ain’t gonna make some old lady call the cops on you. And...I have just now realised that this is not the right shade of yellow. It’s fucking pastel yellow. Fuck. Well, screw it. I’m gonna cover that up with...Beehive Extravaganza. What the fuck? It’s a darker shade, though.”

“Okay, this is where you have to pay attention. Make tiny little flame shapes on your eyelid. I don’t care if it looks stupid, do it. Now get some red, and outline it. Go get some of this glittery yellow, and put near your tear duct, and outline the flames again. Blend those flames in properly, or I’ll show up to your doorstep and immediately kill you. Just make sure they have a nice shape, they should still be fucking recognizable as fucking flames. You know, I put this design one one of my lighters, it looks badass as fuck, so you bitches should try it, except don’t do it better than me, because I have to be the best, but also don’t fuck it up because if you I swear I’ll murder your collective asses.”

At this point, Kirishima had absolutely no idea what was going on, but the girls were nodding like he’d just revealed the secrets of the universe to them. Kirishima didn’t understand it, but Bakugou was literally the hottest person out there, with or without makeup.

“Eyeliner, bitch. It’s the most important part. Some people tell me, Bakugou, you’re a talentless bitch. And to them, first, go shove your head up someone’s ass. Second, if I was talentless, could I do this?”

With that he executed two perfect eyeliner swoops. At least it looked good, and judging from Aoyama’s outraged French mumbling, it was near impossible to get two good ones on the first try. 

“That’s the reason I was put on this earth. Anger people with my eyeliner skills. I bet you guys are fuming right now, huh? Yeah. See, that’s where my absolute perfectionist tendencies come from. Pure, unadulterated rage. Your eyeliner needs to be longer than my patience, and thinner than my tolerance for bullshit. One of these days I will cut a man with how sharp my eyeliner is,and when that day comes I will have restored my honour, and fulfilled the prophecy.”

 “I have rescinded my previous rule, we’re gonna put some light highlighter around your nose and cheeks, just because I’m kinda into this whole fuckass thing now. Highlighter is so fucking cool because it makes me the most interesting fit sparkly smokeshow and all that shit, but your eyes are basically shoving someone in a locker and laughing at their screams get progressively higher. Which I have definitely not done. Wink Wink.”

“Now lips. It’s very minimal, because lots of eyes and lips at the same time makes you look like a hooker or an instagram model. Dark red lip liner, because really, what other colour? Fucking lime green? Get some red and just do that. Line and blend. Black lipstick always seems cool for like, 5 minutes, and then it’s really fucking annoying because it gets everywhere. I hate lipstick, anyway. Boring as hell. Anyway, now you look like a fucking badass and you can go overthrow the government while looking like a bad bitch. If you want to be insulted, threatened and taught makeup by me again, like and subscribe. Now go, commit murder and don’t fucking get caught, or I’ll materialise in your home and eat your shower curtain.”

The video clicked off, the members of class 1-A in complete and utter awe at what they just witnessed. Not only was Bakugou actually good at makeup, he was a pretty-well known youtuber. There were so many questions.

“You know…”

Uraraka drew out her words, looking at the class members scattered around the computer.

“Bakugou’s probably filming something right now, which means we can watch another one without him knowing that we found his channel.”

The vote was unanimous. Shinso scrolled through the playlist of videos, searching for the best possible video to fill up however little time they had left. 

Chapter Text

“Hey, that one looks good.”

Shinso clicked on a video proclaiming the words “doing ghost shit because im dead inside”

The computer screen was immediately filled with the image of Bakugou in a graveyard, every inch the exhausted college student trying to sleep like the dead. 

“Hey bitches, it's august so you know what that means. We’re preparing for Halloween, because it’s the best fucking holiday and I will not be taking arguments. I can walk around looking like I’m going to stab your child and then proceed to eat all of their candy. Good times.”

Well. This would be interesting.

“If you were here last Halloween, you would know that I do Halloween looks for almost all of October, because I’m first and foremost a halloween slut. This isn’t part of that, I was just bored and the graveyard at 3am is the best place to do shit. The writer of “Frankenstein”, Mary Shelly lost her virginity on her mother’s grave, and if that isn’t a fucking power move I don’t know what is.”

“If you wanna know why I’m out here, I accidentally set off the goddamn fire alarm in my dorm, but I was supposed to be in the library, so I had to sneak out through the window. Who knew that trying to make a flash grenade would set my fucking liquid eyeliner on fire? Me. If you want to know how it went, I had a lot of eyeliner thrown over everything I own. It kinda sucked. I did manage to grab this palette and some other shit before Ieft, so I’m doing skull makeup.”

“I actually didn’t have makeup on when I left, so that was real fucking stressful. My classmates can literally never fucking see me without makeup, mainly because if they figured out I had freckles, my life is over. All the intimidation I’ve built up over the years, gone in a fucking instant.”

“Okay, for the look I’m about to do you just need to put a little foundation on the top half of your face. Now, put some white on the bottom of your face, and do it properly or I swear to god you’ll end up looking like you stuck your face in a pile of flour. Now trace the edges of that with red, and not some shitty pink, you’re trying to scare the living daylights out of some conservatives, remember? Hot gay skeletons are the boomer’s ultimate weakness.”

“I wish my stupid ass skeleton wasn’t white. If I die, and my murderer is cutting up my body, presumably to eat, or sell on the black market, he’s not gonna see any basic-ass white, he’s gonna see fucking rainbow, because I’m the fucking Ultimate Gay and my goddamn homosexuality bled through to my bones.”

“Okay, now we do the bones. Just try and trace out some teeth with black, cheekbones, nose bones, cracks in the skull, that sort of shit. Then outline that with red, and blend that into the white. Off topic, but you have no idea the amount of dirty looks I’m getting. I don’t give a shit if this is a grave, Melissa, I’m a convicted arsonist, where else am I supposed to fucking go, up your ass?”

By now the inhabitants of the common room had completely lost it, Denki had fallen to the floor long ago, and Todoroki had brought in some popcorn for them to eat while they watched the show.

“Now eyes. I fucking hate my eyes. Like yeah, sure, I can intimidate all the 12 year olds who are convinced anyone with red eyes is a fucking vampire or shit, but I can never wear red eyeshadow. It fucking sucks. Eyebrows are pretty simple, just normal ones with a little red at the ends. Now for the eyes. Just go fucking feral, some huge ass black circles on the eyes, the ones you get when you do 6 all nighters in a row for a test that you have absolutely not studied for. Those are the eye sockets, coincidentally the same ones I will do shots out of if you mess up the next step. 

“Get yourself some red liquid eyeliner, do your thing with some cat’s eye or whatever, just don’t mess it up or I swear to god I’ll murder your entire fucking family. Now the most important part. Put it underneath your eye, give yourself some red tears on top of that eye socket. You should be left with something like this.”

He showed off the finished look, looking even more ghostly due to the orange street lamp lighting. Kirishima never thought he would be attracted to a skull, but here he was. Mina was staring at Bakugou in amazement, scrutinising every little detail of his makeup. 

“I will be hanging in this graveyard for a bit longer so I can give whoever walks past a traumatic experience and nightmares for a week. You know, sometimes my boyfriend says I should be nicer to people, and I kind of get that now. Eh, being nice is overrated. Being a huge bitch has always been my way of life. If you want to watch me flip off random strangers while I completely ignore the fact that my dorm is probably on fire, like and subscribe. Begone, motherfu-”

The sound of wheels on tarmac became known to them, and Shinso slammed his laptop down hard as the door opened, and Bakugou skated on through.

“Sup, losers.”

He seemed so nonchalant it was almost unbelievable. Looking at him, it was impossible to detect he had makeup on, except for the faintest hint of eyeliner, and probably some foundation to hide his freckles. Kirishima was in love with this boy. He hid freckles because he didn’t want people to not be slightly scared of him, but he could still swear like a sailor in the presence of every authority figure in their life. He probably committed arson on a weekly basis, and yet he was the single cutest thing in Kirishima’s life.

That night, Kirishima heard a knock on his door. Right on schedule. Every few weeks, they would sneak out without anyone noticing, go to the high street and be a couple without having to hide it.

“Shall we?”

Kirishima intertwined his fingers with Bakugou’s, and they walked out of the college dorm, phone on silent and just enjoying the time he got to spend with his boyfriend. He didn’t have any makeup on now, his freckles a stark contrast to his pale skin. These moments with Bakugou were the best, when they could display their relationship for the world to see.

They were in the co-op, the second home of broke college students such as themselves. They would stock up, then go to a park with some picnic benches just to talk,or to help each other with work, or just hang out. There was a different assortment every day, but the one constant was strawberry strings and iced coffee. 

They walked down the road to the park, the neon signs lighting up the street, and sharing earphones like they’d been doing ever since they were teenagers. Kirishima had never understood why people outside of Japan seemed so obsessed with their scenery. Maybe it was the lack of on street parking? He never really got it until these nights with Bakugou. There was just something about it, the way it made him feel when he looked at Bakugou, the peacefulness, the colours that made it seem like they were the only two people in the world.

“I love you so much, Katsuki.”

Bakugou looked at him, scarlet eyes unusually fond. It was true, they’d been dating ever since the second year of college. This was by no means the first time they’d said it, but it was still just as meaningful, just as passionate, just as true. 

“You’re such a fucking dork.”

Then, quieter.

“I love you so much too, Eijirou.”

Bakugou smiled up at Eijirou, something Kirishima had delighted in ever since he’d got his growth spurt. He was a good 2 or 3 inches taller than Katsuki, something his boyfriend hated with a seething passion. Bakugou hesitated, then stretched up, towards Kirishima’s mouth. He responded by pressing his lips against the other’s, pleasuring in the familiar scent of vanilla, cinnamon and wood smoke. The music played into their ears, a song about electric love. Well, that was accurate. He wasn’t taking an electrical engineering major like Kami, but he knew enough about Bakugou to be sure of what they had. Electric love, just like the song said. 

They were holding hands over the picnic table, Bakugou’s hand loose in his own one. They may not be one of those couples that were all over each other, but when they could touch each other like this, it was the best feeling in the world. It had taken Katsuki a while to get used to that feeling, and Eijirou a while to get that memo instead of feeling like Bakugou didn’t like him. 

Watching his boyfriend explain a math problem to him, stupid blonde hair sticking up at odd angles and the lampost light illuminating his freckles, Kirishima couldn’t help thinking how much he loved him. God, he was glad Katsuki didn’t know how much he thought about his boyfriend, it would be incredibly embarrassing. How much he loved his incredibly angry gremlin boyfriend, who had to stand on his tiptoes to kiss him properly, who had a secret youtube channel, who stole Eijirou’s hoodies like it was his only purpose in life, and had a crippling addiction to coffee. 

“Hey dumbass, are you listening to me?”

Kirishima snapped out of his stupor to find himself gazing at Bakugou with a lovestruck expression on his face. He managed to say the first thing that popped into his mind.

“You're so pretty.”

An incredible blush spread over Bakugou’s face, and he tried in a futile attempt to cover the pink that spread across his whole face.

“You’re a fucking nerd, and I hate you so much. Also, it’s half 4. We should probably start heading back.”

They joined hands and started walking back on the street, the sunrise filtering through the buildings and washing onto their faces. 

Back at school, Kirishima was lying on his bed, watching Bakugou type a message.

Katsuki <3: i love you

Katsuki <3: bitch

Katsuki <3: i ain’t never gonna stop loving you

Katsuki <3: bitch

A smile burst on his face, a special one only Bakugou knew of. Another message popped in, from Denki this time.

Ya boi denks: this is the link to bakugou’s new video im SCREAMING

Ya boi denks: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ

Kirishima smiled and closed his eyes. He would watch it in the morning. 

Chapter Text

The next morning Kirishima checked his phone to find a huge amount of messages from the one class 1-A group chat that bakugou had successfully managed to leave, and Denki had apparently turned it into a “who the fuck is Bakugou’s boyfriend” conspiracy group chat. 

Pink bitch: how do we know bakugou isn't just faking for clout? Is there really a person on this earth who got to know bakugou, and thought “yes, i want to be with them”

Tape bitch: maybe? 

Punk lesbian: this is probably the reason he didn’t tell us

Punk lesbian: @rockman you know him the best, who’s his boyfriend?

Rockman: i think he does, but idk who. Maybe he says it in one of his videos?

Ya boi denks: tried that, he only ever says “my boyfriend”

Kirishima screenshotted the texts from last night, and sent them on to Bakugou. He replied almost immediately, saying “our entire class shares one fucking braincell”. He wasn’t wrong, if they would just out the puzzle pieces together, it wouldn’t be that hard to figure out. Most of them had gone to the same high school, and they started dating in the second year of that. Almost 5 years of him dating Bakugou, and they still couldn’t figure it out? 

Kirishima scrolled up, marvelling in the class’s level of obliviousness. The link from last night caught his eye, the video Bakugou must have recorded yesterday. It was called “clouds are pretty bitchin” Almost absent-mindedly he clicked on it.

“Hey hoes, what the fuck is up. Today I’m going to do that weird ass thing y’all keep bugging me about- the cloud makeup shit. I gotta admit, it does look cool. You may be wondering why I am not in my usual hole that I hide from other humans in. No, today I’m going to go out, in daylight, and do makeup. I truly am a social butterfly.”

That did it. Kirishima’s uncontrollable laughing almost made him drop his phone. This was art. Him sliding along the street in heelys was just the crowning jewel.

“My class was being super fucking weird today, talking about my skin or something. Bitch, theres nothing fucking wrong with my shin. Do I look like Elphaba the crusty green bitch to you? If you watched one of my previous videos, the one where I tried on a shit ton of face masks, you would know that all of that combined has made my skinsuit practically immune to anything.”

The video switched to a black-and-white montage of what Kirishima assumed was the face mask video, clips of bakugou screaming at a packet of goo, lying face up on the bathroom floor covered in spots of said goo, and staring deadpan into the camera as the titanic theme played in the background, joined by a furious muttering in Spanish. 

Kirishima had heard Bakugou talk in spanish a couple times, mainly when he was pissed and needed to talk shit about someone without them knowing. Every so often he would forget a word in English and have to say it in Spanish until Kirishima guessed what he meant. The first time he said “I love you”, it was in spanish, and he still didn’t have any idea that Kirishima knew he said it.

They were in their third year of high school, and they were talking about whether pineapple belongs on pizza or not. He’d thrown up his hands and started talking in rapid-paced spanish. He was almost halfway through, when he caught a glimpse of Kirishima’s laughing frame and pushed him off the sofa. As he clambered back on, he heard Bakugou say something as he laughed.

“No puedo creer que te amo.”

He caught the words “te amo”, and almost stopped breathing. Bakugou wasn’t exactly the most emotional person. Looking it up later, the words meant “I can’t believe I love you.” 

“If you want to watch me dissociate because of a fucking strawberry and cream face mask, go watch that video. It’s real fucking chaotic. Anyway, I am located in the graveyard again. It’s probably not the best thing in the world that I am comfortable around dead people. First, foundation, contour, base shit. I legally get to talk about whatever I want while we’re doing this, so buckle up, motherfuckers.”

“So my boyfriend refuses to see IT chapter 2 with me, which I think is blasphemy. He looks like a fucking McDonalds clown, that’s your idea of horror? Bitch. Fucking Australia is scarier than the shit he claims is scary. Huge ass spiders and shit, no fucking thank you. At least that’s real, instead of a goddamn sewer clown. Honestly, I can’t blame that bitch. Children fucking suck.”

“But back to my original point. My boyfriend tells me I have a strangely small amount of empathy, to which I say, fuck that. Just because I don’t particularly give a fuck about what bitch is getting murdered now  doesn’t mean I don’t care about people. I care about precisely 2 people, and that's all I need.”

“Okay, base is done, now onto the cloud shit. Get a random colour, I’m choosing purple but I really couldn’t give a shit what you do. Cover the bridge of your nose and your cheeks in a light coat of that. Honestly, this is a really easy look, so if you mess it up I will not hesitate to stab your parents. Now for the actual clouds. They need to look like actual clouds, and not like a flock of sheep fucking wandered onto your face.”

“Get your first colour and find something that’s kind of similar to that. I’m gonna do pink because fuck gender roles. Use that to outline the clouds, do shading, all that shit. This is actually one of the first things I’ve done with pink. If I use it too much every last bit of my dignity will be blown into shreds because I’ll look like a fucking easter egg. Buff the primary colour out with the second one- make sure it's more vibrant that the first colour. It's complete bullshit, but a lighter colour, tacky base will give you the best colour payoff, so do that. Soften the edges of the whole cloud design with a light version of one of your colours, because if you don't you'll just have a block of clouds on your face and nobody wants that.

“Do your eyeshadow in one of those two shades. Both if you’re not a pussy who can’t blend. Now get yourself some white, and make some little star shapes, not kiddie 5 pointers, just crosses. Do your eyeliner with that as well. And put some white on your lower lash line, because I say so, and also, it'll look cool, trust me. Now, just get some clear gloss for your lips, and you’re done. See, I fucking told you this was easy as shit.”

When Bakugou drew his hands away from doing his eyeliner, Kirishima forgot how to breathe. He looked like the sunset sky had been sprinkled on his face. He was beautiful. 

“If you want to be terrorised by a dumbass college kid with anger issues again, like and subscribe. Now I have to go and bitch about literally nothing. Bye, hoes.”

Against his better judgement, Kirishima checked the comments. He was met with a surprise- a lot of the comments seemed to be talking about him. There were many comments going along the lines of “who the fuck is he bitch”, “tell us, whore, i want to see the source of this affection” and “🅱️lease tell us who he is im begging you”.

It was nice to know so many people cared about his relationship. 

Chapter Text

Kirishima was skimming channels on the TV when he heard the scream. It resounded throughout the dorm, grabbing the attention of the class. Midoriya rushed downstairs, holding his phone aloft. He didn’t say anything, just grabbed Shinso’s laptop. and ignoring his cries of indignation, typed in the name of Bakugou’s channel. It came up without lag, and the first video incited general shock in the audience that was now assembled around the common room. The thumbnail was a picture of Todoroki, and the caption was “glowing up my class halloween challenge”. He had a faint idea of what it was about. About a week ago, the class had decided to do some kind of halloween challenge. They settled on each member dressing up as another, such as Jirou dressing up as Denki, or Tsu as Momo. They used a secret santa method, and Bakugou picked Todoroki.

 “Hello bitches, this will be the first video in my halloween series. Halloween isn’t a holiday, it’s a fucking lifestyle. Anyone who disses halloween can fucking fight me. You wanna know why halloween is so important, other than it being the one night I can carry a huge ass knife around and no-one can say anything? I mean, of course I already carry knives around on a daily basis, but that’s not the point. It’s the one thing that stops christmas celebrations from advancing even earlier in the year like a cancerous growth.”

“So my class that shares one goddamn braincell decided it would be a good idea to dress up as one another as a halloween thing. That was a fucking good idea, seeing as we’re all broke college students with zero spare time and crippling depression. I got this bitch, the guy from the thumbnail. Obviously I didn’t do it well, just a random splash of paint and hairspray. Today I’m gonna do it again, but fucking better.”

“First, base. Icyhot is the whitest-looking bitch you’ll ever meet, despite literally being asian, so today I’m going to do something blasphemous - use the wrong shade of foundation. I’m not even kidding about this, his skin tone is fucking mayonaise. He probably thinks goddamn cinnamon sticks are spicy. You’d think I’d love this skin colour because of all the privilege I’d be getting, but I guess not. It's actually kind of getting to be kind of useful, because the white kids at our school are fucking blind and think he's white so he tells us when they're being racist and we bully them."

Todoroki made a mildly affronted noise, lost in the sea of Mina cackling like a maniac. It was somewhat true, Kirishima had definitely heard Todoroki trying to convince a skeptical Izuku that cinnamon was actually spicy and his taste buds had just built up a resistance to spicy food after knowing Bakugou for so long.

“Wow. I can’t believe it actually fucking worked. I got this in my Cosmetic Chemistry class, and honestly? This dumb wrong-shade foundation gets the job done. The guy I stole- borrowed it from was talking about how good it was. Well, it’s not really a class, per se, more like a bunch of fucking nerds that meet and do dumb shit with makeup.”

“There’s no more basic face makeup because Icyhot is a basic bitch. That doesn’t make sense. I’m going to do contour anyway because I’m extra, and if I want to walk around town tarnishing his reputation even further, I need to look convincing. I’m thinking a little arson, some general flashing to get a free drink, maybe I’ll stab someone, the possibilities are endless! I already do that all the time, but it’ll just be easier to get away with it if I’m committing identity fraud.”

“Now, I finally get to do the best fucking part- the scar. Put some dark red all over your right eye, make it look like a splash mark but not too splashy or so help me god I’ll break into your house and steal all your sellotape. Now put texture in there, different shades, all that shit. I’m not going to narrate what I’m doing while I do the scar, because it’s that time of day when I talk about literally anything under the sun. Speaking of which, I think that the sun is a bitch and I’m going to fight it.”

“Icyhot is a conspiracy theorist, and I hate to say it, but they fucking suck. “The moon landing was faked” pfft, bitch, you believe in the moon? Loser. He probably thinks that fucking birds are real. I’m straight-up a member of the Illuminati, and I can without a doubt tell you that birds ain’t real, sweetie. The moon is fucking flat and Greg from nasa’s customer service is a little BITCH for telling me it’s not.”

“My boyfriend told me to pick my battles. Well, I’m at full rage and Greg can suck a dick. Off topic, but sometimes I read my comments, and what the fuck, y’all are obsessed with my boyfriend. Everyone has a safe space, and he’s mine. I know precisely 3 people who don’t drain the remainder of my emotions, and he is one. The day you bitches find out who he is is the day my class finds out about this channel. Did I mention I’m grateful they don’t know about this? Because I am.”

Kirishima was certain the class had no idea he was the mystery boyfriend. They all drank their dumb bitch juice on a daily basis. Bakugou went off camera, presumably to orchestrate a dramatic reveal.

“Okay, now I have to brush my hair, because Icyhot’s hair is flatter than his ass. I don’t know why I have an addiction to talking shit about my classmates, I just do. The Icyhot slander is strong in this Chili’s tonight. So we brush the hair, and then divide it, make sure it has a clear parting. Spray the right side white, and the other red. Now put on a turtleneck, and your look is finished.”

Bakugou came into shot, and the general reaction was “what the fresh fuck”. He looked almost exactly like Todoroki. Maybe it was something to do with shading, or contour or something. Kirishima didn’t know a lot about makeup. 

“Congratulations, if you did this right you should look like a socially awkward music major with a green hair fetish. Go like and subscribe, motherfuckers.”

When the video finished, everyone was quiet, before Todoroki started yelling up the stairs. Bakugou popped his head round the door to see what the fuss was. All the colour drained out of his face as he saw the class crowded around a laptop displaying his channel.

“It’s not what it looks like?”

Chapter Text

The video opened with Bakugou’s room scattered in makeup like always, and the door barred  with many various boxes, a desk and a coffee machine. He looked exhausted and beaten down, t-shirt askew and about 6 empty cups of coffee on the windowsill. The mess was a little jarring, normally Bakugou was super uptight about where his stuff went, and it was honestly endearing how much he cared about mundane things like that. Kirishima just put stuff wherever it fit, there was no system or anything. 

To the untrained eye, it would look like Bakugou’s room was exactly like that, a mess beyond a simple re-organising or hoovering (not that the room needed it, dust was an endangered species in Bakugou’s room.)  However, Kirishima was smarter than the average fool ( read- Denki). He knew that Bakugou had an incredibly complex system that almost no-one could understand. Even after almost 6 years of friendship, he still couldn’t completely figure it out.

“If you’re wondering why I didn’t post last week, here’s why. My fucking class found out about my channel, so now every time I film-”

Video-Kirishima poked his head through a crack in the doorway, eyes shining. His head was quickly joined by those of Denki and the rest of the gang. The barricade started rattling, a direct response to the full force of four idiots with no concept of boundaries.

“-that happens. This is a scientific phenomenon, you know. The only humans on the planet with a minus number of brain cells! Get the fuck out.”

The pile of stuff stacked against the door gave in, and the self proclaimed “bakusquad” burst through to immediately start annoying Bakugou. Denki sprawled himself over the bed and gave the camera a flirtatious glance, quickly distorted by Mina displaying her total lack of impulse control and jumping on him. Sero began sorting through the various makeup brushes collected in a pot on his desk, ignoring Bakugou’s long-suffering glance to the camera.

“Okay, so no video. I’ll get back to you when I can. If I’ve been accused of third degree murder in that time, you didn’t see shit, understand?”

The video clicked off to a black screen amidst the other’s complaining, but was quickly replaced with a close up of… Uraraka? The various people crowded around the screen gave a confused look around, but continued to watch the video. In front of the phone screen, Mina gave a barely concealed snort and high-fived Uraraka, who was looking at her hair in a state of horror and mild amazement.

“Is this thing on? Hi. I’m Mina, this is Uraraka. We’re Bakugou’s classmates, and we’re hijacking his video. He has no power here. We’re going to try and recreate one of his makeup looks. At least, I am. Uraraka is my test subject. The video we’re going to use is entitled “this is a gays only event, go home” which is honestly very own brand for Bakugou. This is actually really cool because since it’s his account, there’s no copyright.”

“Let’s just get this over with, I am honestly terrified that Bakugou will figure out we’re doing this and murder us.”

“You know we’re showing the finished look to him, right?”

What Kirishima assumed was the aforementioned video started playing in the bottom-right corner of the screen as Mina started to swatch foundation on Uraraka’s hand, ignoring her cries of indignation to the previous statement.

“Okay, what the fuck is up. I’m actually going to murder someone, this week has been stressful as FUCK, so strap in motherfuckers, I’m going to unload. Oh, and I guess this video could be described as a pride month thing, I don’t fucking know. While I rant you need to get some foundation on your face, get all up in that shit. And make it fucking even or you’ll have blotchy foundation and I will not hesitate to throw you off the nearest bridge.”

“You would think- You would think that after 5 and a half fucking years people would learn to not touch my crap. But for some fuckass reason, someone decided to steal my spicy popcorn. Great kickstart to the week. This leads onto the snack thief stealing everyone else's snacks. We are broke college students, we don’t have money, snacks are our only source of nourishment. I don’t think half this class knows what a fucking vegetable is. I hate them.”

“Anyway, I was in my SFX makeup class, and it was a double period, so we were working on fake blood and all that shit. We had to make believable fake blood, which was fine, and at the end we got to do a carrie-style thing and dump it over our heads to make sure it looked like actual blood. And it did, don’t underestimate me. So obviously I wanted to take a fucking shower, I looked like a goddamn serial killer. Even though if I was a serial killer I would make sure I wasn’t covered in blood, but that’s beside the point.”

“So I’m TRYING to wash my blood off, when this BITCH- I won’t name names, anyway there I am, blood on my tiddies when he bursts in, pulls the shower curtain back on me, who is totally naked, gets out the words “Hey-stop screaming it’s just me- are we out of cheetos” finally sees the fact that I am covered in blood, and faints dead on the floor of the bathroom. I am fucking naked, covered in blood, with a hopefully dead body on the floor all while Britney Spear’s “Toxic” plays in the background.”

Video- Uraraka stopped the recording, a horrified look on her face. Everyone watching the show automatically turned to Denki, who was looking awfully sheepish. It was very Kaminari-like to burst in one someone naked and faint at the sight of blood. 

“Okay, now that your foundation is on, make kind of a tear shape around your eyes with white. I don’t know, kind of like your skin is peeling off. Remember my comment in a previous video, “Doing ghost shit because I'm dead inside”? The one about how my gayness bled into my bones? It’s gonna be kind of like that. Make sure there’s edges and little flaps of skin because it didn’t rip off properly. Is that gross? I’m desensitized because I watched too many horror movies and nothing scares me anymore. But yeah, if you don’t fucking do those little flaps I will murder you in your sleep and throw your body into a dumpster a la toy story, do not fucking test me.”

At this point Video-Mina was frantically trying to keep up with the instructions, having to pause multiple times to give the camera incredulous looks at what Bakugou was saying.

“I’m legitimately terrified for my life here.”

“We all are, Mina. Yain’t special. Bakugou’s going to appear out of thin air and strike you down the second you make a mistake, and guess who’s getting murdered along with you? Me, bitch.”

At this point Kirishima had absolutely no idea what was going on, except that Bakugou took SFX classes (what even was that? He’d seen it on Sero’s tiktok a few times before but he had no clue what any of it meant), he could make up the most creative threats to the point of disturbance, and the sheer bravery of Mina and Uraraka for doing this was astounding.

“Okay, now fill in the ripped-off part with white, but only the ripped off part because if you do that on the skin strips as well right now, it’s gonna look terrible. You have to wait. Once you’ve done that, just fill in all of that with a rainbow. Gradient rainbow, start with blue on your left and work across. No pastel shit, we’re looking for actual colours that don’t make us look like a bunch of fucking toddlers. Don’t be a little bitch and avoid your eyes, it needs to go right on there. Now get some black and outline the whole rainbow thing, shade it in so it looks like shadows or whatever. Avoid the skin strips. You know what, just avoid them altogether until I say so. Except now, I say so.”

“Get some white, fill in the skin flaps, then do shading and whatnot. It should kind of look like ripped paper. Is it bad I want to make this into a SFX look, with tons of gore and shit? . Instead of rainbow its blood and tendons and bones? Maybe a later video. Now that is just about done, so get some lipgloss or some other lipstick-type shit and just put that on there. I’m gonna go off screen to put on my fake eyelashes, but get your longest pair and just slap those on there.”

Video-Mina pried a pair of fake eyelashes out of a tin and shoved Uraraka off-camera, presumably to put them on. Kirishima had no idea why those things had so much etiquette attached to them, apparently it looked stupid when you put them on and they din’t like to see you watch ( info from his time spent with the girls in the class), but you could just rip them off when you were done and nobody would say a word? One of his worst experiences with Mina was when he first learned what fake eyelashes were. One minute he was blissfully unaware, and the next Mina was peeling off her eyelashes what the everliving fuck-

Video Mina and Uraraka came back on camera, swiftly followed by Bakugou in the bottom-left corner. Uraraka actually looked pretty good, great even, almost perfect, but Bakugou was…. Wow. He might have been a little bit biased, but who’s to say. It actually looked super realistic. The logical side of Kirishima’s brain was telling him that no, his skin is not ripped open and no, he is not made of rainbows, but that little voice was quickly drowned out by the rest of his brain enthusiastically screaming “HOT BOY RAINBOW GAY HOT BAKUGOU AAAA” on a loop.

The camera switched onto Uraraka and Mina walking over campus, presumably to find Bakugou. The person in question was sitting on a bench, probably trying to get some privacy after the fiasco that was what had been dubbed “the grand reveal.”

As soon as Bakugou had raced down the stairs to try and defuse the situation, he’d realised exactly what the situation was, and instead of Todoroki yelling at Bakugou for whatever he was mad about, it turned into Bakugou yelling at them for invading his safe space. Something about the fact that there was only so much he could do without a gaggle of idiots following him, and this is not exhibiting rule 5 of class 1-A conduct (Don’t spy on your classmates. The rules were completely ignored by the entire class, save Iida, but they were sometimes used to punctuate a point)

Video Uraraka and Mina crept towards the studying Bakugou, while real-life Uraraka and Mina stifled giggles. At this point everyone present was watching in anticipation, waiting to see them either get killed or narrowly escape it. Bakugou looked up at them for a split second, not registering the makeup, before looking up again in part abject horror and part complete and utter outrage.

The camera cut to Mina and Uraraka running away from an angry Bakugou yelling various curse words in an unusual mixture of english, japanese and spanish. Some choice phrases he caught were “can’t have anything to myself god fucking dammit”, “I hate this fucking family” and “no such thing as privacy anymore, huh?” They were fending him off with the mass abundance of trash in Mina’s pockets, but it would slow him down for long. For what seemed like the millionth time, he wondered what kind of reckless idiots decided to do something as stupid as that.

Real-life Bakugou decided to make a surprise guest appearance, and noticing what was on the computer screen, he decided to display his total lack of impulse control (him and Mina were more similar than he would have liked to admit) and throw an entire box of off-brand cereal at them. Ignoring the bombarding questions about his secret boyfriend coming from Denki and Sero’s general area, he slid down next to Kirishima and plugged in his earphones, blocking the rest of the world out.

Ever since the secret had come out about Bakugou’s channel, the entire class had been desperate to know who the mystery boyfriend was. Kirishima wasn’t hugely comfortable with directly lying, not very manly and all, but luckily for them Bakugou was a master untruth-teller. He’d already gotten them convinced that the boyfriend lived across the country, he was already out of college, and he was a total horror flick nut. Kirishima couldn’t help thinking that was a thinly veiled insult towards his fear of horror. All jokes of course, but Bakugou really was what some people would call a horror movie slut, and it was basically treason to him that he hated horror movies.

The video came to a close, Mina screaming the closing message as they ran away from a furious Bakugou. Shinso snatched his computer back from the table possessively, understandable seeing as it had become the main streaming service for watching Bakugou’s videos. 

Chapter Text

Class 1-A gc (minus bakubro cus he’s a bitch)

Pink bitch: do you guys think Bakugou is mad at us?

Oui’d: be more specific

Small might: what do you mean? I didn’t think he was mad at us?

Pink bitch: he seemed really angry that we, y’know, invaded his safe space or whatever

Pink bitch: i mean i get it now that i think about it, it was kind of a dick move

Red riot: maybe he is? We don’t have a whole lot of me time in the dorm, and maybe he’s pissed

Red riot: we did kind of invade his privacy

Aux cord: that’s a fair assumption

Aux cord: if anybody did the same thing to me i’’d be super mad

Aux cord: he definitely has a right to be angry 

uratitty: well what r we gonna do?

Red riot: yeah, should we ask him or something?

Aux cord: you’re closest to him, you should ask.

Ya boi denks: i take offense to that statement

Ya boi denks: i am very close to our resident gremlin

Ya boi denks: but yeah kiri should do it

Aux cord: why would you take offense? Apart from kiri, im probably his best friend

Ya boi denks: EX-FUCKING-SCUCE ME

-------------------------------------------------------------

Kirishima turned off his phone and rolled over on his bed, thinking deeply about what Mina had suggested. It was true that Bakugou had been a little distant since he’d figured out that they knew, but it was possible that was normal Bakugou behaviour. Thinking about it, it was kind of a dick move to invade someone’s coping mechanism so casually, and without permission or common courtesy. He would go talk to Bakugou as soon as his bones decided to allow him to get up.

Once his ungrateful bones let him up and out of his room, he found himself standing in front of Bakugou’s room. Unsure of whether to poke his head in like normal, or to knock, because he might already be pissed about people ignoring his boundaries, he decided to knock. Just to be on the safe side. Bakugou opened the door, a little wariness on his expression. Probably not a good sign.

Once Kirishima had settled down on a beanbag, Bakugou hopped onto his bed opposite him and curled up into a criss-cross applesauce sitting position, regarding him with narrowed eyes. Kiri cleared his throat, feeling undeniably more awkward that he had accounted for 5 minutes ago. His attention was drawn to the fact Bakugou’s room was wiped clean of any traces of makeup, it all packed neatly away, unseen. It was really unsettling, the feeling that something was just off . Bakugou was sitting opposite him, looking expectantly at him with tired eyes and just a little trace of pencil eyeliner. His freckles were pronounced as ever, standing out proudly without the use of foundation. 

“So.. Are you, like, mad at us?”

Bakugou scrunched up his nose and looked at him with new interest, something between baffled curiosity and deadpan annoyance.

“Mad about what? The fact that the entire class basically looked at my boundaries, saw that it was stressing me out you guys being there, and said, “fuck it, we don’t care?” And the fact that you all can’t seem to take no for an answer and disregard everything about the one coping mechanism I can use without wanting to commit alivn’t? Wow, why would I be mad about that?”

Ouch. Definitely mad. He shifted uncomfortably, distinctly aware he was one of the reasons Bakugou was being like this, before looking up and seeing that Bakugou was looking a lot more tired than before. Something about the air of defeat around him.

“I’m sorry. This whole thing has just got me really fucking stressed out, y’know? It’s weird that everyone is messing about in something I didn’t want them to. And it’s pretty shitty that the entire class was just poking around in my life without even asking.”

“I’m sorry.”

Bakugou fiddled with a stand of his light blond hair, watching the strands taper off in all directions. He eventually met Kiri’s eyes, a little mistrust in his eyes that made him feel even worse. He’d tried so hard to get Bakugou to open up and trust people over the years, and that could all be gone because of one stupid mistake. This was stupid. He was stupid. 

“Look, maybe you should go. I kind of have a lot on my plate right now. I have to do a ton of editing and get more fake eyelashes and mascara and stop Denki and Sero from asking me about you and- I just can’t really deal with this. Not right now. Can we talk tomorrow?”

Kirishima nodded silently and gave a strained smile, trying to act as easygoing as possible. He closed the door and made his way into his room slowly, feeling worse with every step. After rattling off a quick text to the group chat confirming that Bakugou was indeed mad at them, he placed the phone down and sighed deeply, letting his thoughts get the better of him.

-------------------------------------------------

Kirishima stood outside Bakugou’s door nervously, anticipating the conversation to come. He knocked on the door with a shaking hand, waiting for the telltale creak of the floorboards. Bakugou opened the door, with black-rimmed eyes and a loose red shirt thrown on carelessly that he recognized to be his own, one he’d let Bakugou wear a while ago because it had been raining and a jacket “ruined his aesthetic” It actually looked good on him, the plain red shirt really bringing out his eyes covered behind the plain black frames he wore when he didn’t have time for contacts.

“It’s 3am. What the fuck, Eijirou?”

Oh yeah. He’d forgotten about the time. Staying up all night thinking about Bakugou wasn’t the most productive thing, but it kind of helped him realise what he needed to do. He shoved a plastic bag into Bakugou’s hands, distinctly aware that Bakugou’s shirt was slipping off his shoulders, displaying freckles dotting over his shoulders. No . Now was not the time. 

“I got you the mascara and fake eyelashes, and I got Denki and Sero to back off on asking you about me. I don’t know if those are the ones you normally get, but-. Okay, I love you, and I’ll stand by you with this. 

Bakugou looked at him for a moment before letting a small smile cross his lips and wordlessly standing aside to let Kirishima enter the room. They sat on the bed together, Kirishima watching Bakugou fiddle with the mascara, turning the lid round like a safe locker. 

“Babe, this is great. You’re great. This really helped. The past week has been super stressful, but you shouldn’t have to deal with my bullshit. You deserve someone who doesn’t do this… someone not like me. Wow, that got deep fast.”

“I’m sorry.”

Katsuki brushed hair out of Eijirou’s eyes, movements clear and precise, practiced a million times. He gave a little dismissive gesture, rolling his scarlet eyes in a fondly exasperated action Kirishima was familiar with at this point in their relationship. 

“Not your fault. It’s not even something you should be concerned about, I’m just being bitchy. None of this is your fault.”

“No, you have every right to be bitchy. We should have asked you once we found out about it and not just gone behind your back. I’m sorry. We’re sorry. All of us. And, you know, I’d trade a million people without this for what we have. I love you.”

Bakugou gave a little smile and intertwined his fingers with Kirishima’s as a gesture that meant “I forgive you.” After knowing Bakugou for 6 years, he knew what all his little mannerisms meant. And that this was the perfect time to grab his laptop that was sitting on the still-standing door barricade and start to set up their comfort movie- Sharkboy and Lavagirl. It may have been complete and utter cringe garbage, but for some reason it hit hard with them. 

As the beginning credits began to play, Bakugou smiled and rested his head on Kirishima’s shoulder, huddling closer for warmth. Kiri pressed his mouth to the top of Bakugou’s head, pleasuring in the scent of cinnamon and caramel and whatever was in his stupid shampoo. They stayed like that for a while, watching the movie run and occasionally laughing at some stupid joke or throwing popcorn in each other’s mouths. 

Bakugou had taken off his glasses and they were neatly folded up on Kirishima’s lap, along with the laptop. The movie had finished hours ago, and Kirishima was too tired to even contemplate the idea of going back to his own room. Bakugou was sleeping on his shoulder, Kirishima’s arm around him, and they were curled around each other in a way that made Kirishima unsure of where he ended and Bakugou began. He was all hard edges and corners, but curled up like this he looked undeniably soft. 

The room was dark, almost pitch black, but he could still make out the freckles dotted all over Bakugou’s face. So far he’d ticked off quite a few on his kissing list, working his way through them steadily. Bakugou still had no clue about his little game, caught up in his own little world of social media and college classes. Kirishima had taken it upon himself to find out what kind of classes he was taking. So far, he’d seen a variety of them, each more amazing than the other. Seriously, he didn't understand half of it but he was proud of Katsuki.

Throughout all the ups and downs, he really was lucky to have Bakugou. 

Chapter Text

The night was dark and cold, but despite that the aircon in the diner was still blasting. There was static in the air- hair was standing up on end, and not for no reason. It felt like something was watching them. Slow piano music was playing, but the place was otherwise silent. They didn’t know where it was coming from. The kids in the diner were alone, save for someone at the desk, but they still talked quietly and subdued. Anything louder would have been jarring in the silence. Outside, the rain dripped from the enormous grey clouds, dotting the sidewalk outside. Wet leaves danced in the wind, and mildew crept up the side of the building as if the ground was trying to reclaim the land they once owned. The concrete was out of place in the rolling hills of yellowed grass. It felt like a stranger in this land forgotten by time. As they laughed, it seemed as if a spell was upon them. The air was thick and cold, and time seemed to move slower. It seemed completely impossible that something was watching them. Wasn’t it?

----------------------------------------------------

Kirishima was fairly sure that this was revenge for everything, ever that he’d done to Bakugou. Only a true madman would actually want to do this for fun.

After much annoying, guilt-tripping and just plain threatening from Bakugou, he’d managed to force Kirishima into some video he was planning with a few other people. Todoroki, Hagakure, Tokoyami, Mina and Shinso. They were in some kind of group chat together, “mothman whores unite”. Maybe that would explain it. They were all kind of obsessed with cryptids, or aliens, or ghosts, or something along those lines. And for some terrible reason, Kirishima had been chosen to join them.

They were currently sitting in some chain store fast food restaurant on the edge of town, bickering about whatever they were going to do and sipping some coffees that tasted more like milkshakes with added caffeine. Kirishima wasn’t complaining though, he would need a lot of it to get through tonight. It was about 10pm, and they planned on staying out until they accomplished their goal, whatever that was. Which meant that Kirishima could say goodbye to his almost-functional sleep schedule and hello to a night of pain and suffering and possible hypothermia. 

Kirishima still had absolutely no idea what they were talking about, they were using words like “mothman, what an actual fucking lesbian icon” and “Hagakure we all know you have an intimate sexual relationship with bigfoot you don’t need to flaunt it you abominable monsterfucker” God, he just hoped they were recording this. He didn’t even know why he needed to be here, save for being the one voice of reason. He knew absolutely nothing about Mothman, whoever that was. Wouldn’t it just be a man who liked moths? Manmoth? Mothman? He decided to try and grasp a vague understanding of the conversation, speaking as everyone took a sip of whatever energy-filled devil drink they were using as a replacement for sleep.

“So, are you guys looking for Mothman? Do you wanna like, talk to him? Capture him, like they do in Scooby-Do? Because I feel like we might need something bigger than the Mystery Van.”

Oh, that was definitely the wrong thing to say, for the self-proclaimed mothman whores for looking at him like he’d just committed a felony. Well, that was probably the wrong analogy. Felonies were most likely something Bakugou did on a regular basis, a fun first date idea. But they were all staring at him in shock and horror, like he’d said something to offend them to their cores. Todoroki cleared his throat and looked at Kirishima solemnly, as if he was about to group him into a grand mystery, or a cult. With these guys, it could have been both. 

“Kirishima, we are mere mortals. Mothman is a giant omnipotent moth that could kill us without second thought. No fucking way are we going to kidnap him. Besides, we’ve got our sights set on a different cryptid- Sirenhead.”

Seeing his confusion, Mina decided to explain exactly what a “Sirenhead” was. As everyone else contributed facts about the mysterious “Sirenhead”, Kirishima snuck a look at Bakugou. He was smirking openly at him, pleasuring in his confusion. Bastard.

“Basically, they’re the lamp from the Pixar logo, but with like. Murder. Sirenhead can mimic almost any sound through the sirens that form their head, including white noise, human conversation and extremely loud sounds that can damage hearing, hence the name. They're a hostile cryptid, and have the ability to imitate human technology. Strangely, their sirens are the only man-made part about them. Apart from the wires trailing down their body, they are made up of mummified skin and bone.”

Now Tokoyami decided to jump into the explanation. Knowing his tendency to exaggerate, use fancy words and generally be overly dramatic for no good reason, this would be fun. Possibly the drama was for a plausible reason this time around though- They’d only been talking for a few minutes and Kirishima was already scared shitless of this Sirenhead. Especially since Hagakure’s phone was currently displaying an image of what Kirishima assumed was the aforementioned cryptid. Creepy.

“Siren Head is a physical entity, but its anatomy and existence are terrifying and meaningless to us. Siren Head isn't a being of our reality, instead Siren Head is much different than us, as it is not limited by our laws of nature. Basically, Siren Head is a constantly changing manifestation, which almost always appears different in the victim’s view of Siren Head. Victims of Siren Head have apparently been found with their “eyes, ear drums, gums, sinuses burst and bleeding”, a description which matches the aftermath of an incident where the majority of a town was found killed in this fashion. Siren Head was never a person; people cannot be turned into an example of it. Weapons do not normally work on the entity. It has almost never been spotted in populated areas. Which is why we’re here. We’re going to try to get physical evidence of them.”

All that information, and they were still looking for it? What in the fresh kentucky fried fuck. At least, since it was (probably) not real they wouldn’t have to encounter it. Right? They rose from the table and began to collect the things scattered around the table, while Bakugou picked up the currently recording camera and slid the strap around his neck. Oh, so they had been recording. Bakugou turned the camera to face them, beginning to step out the door into the freezing cold. The rest of the gang followed suit, immediately pulling their coats tighter around them while Bakugou narrated. 

“Okay, so if you're not a complete idiot you could have figured out that this is not a makeup video, and is instead one of the few occasions I go absolutely batshit feral and look for cryptids. You may remember the great fiasco of the baby kraken in the abandoned pool, which turned out to be a family of mamushi snakes. Not fucking mint. These are the other cryptid enthusiasts in my dorm, and they’re helping me. This is Shitty Hair, he’s here for emotional support. Not mine, I don’t fuck with that shit. He’s Sirenhead’s emotional support. You guys should know by now I am not the nicest person. They try to pull that creepy siren shit on me, I’mma drag his ass to hell and back.”

“Anyway, we basically live in the middle of fucking nowhere, so that’s good for finding cryptids. Especially Siren Head, homeboy is antisocial as FUCK so we’re gonna find him. Maybe we can share murder tips. Doubt he’s on my level though. If I don’t get a job at this organization I’m legit just gonna be a serial killer. I bet I could make it. For real though, I’m getting that fucking job. Okay, should be noted, my eyeliner is on point, I’m hopped up on adrenaline and coffee, and I am so ready to find this fucking siren bitch.”

They walked through the dark forest, watching and waiting for any sudden movements. Every little noise was an invitation for someone to lean forward and give some obscure fact about the creature that just made Kirishima want to run home and never return. For some reason, the others weren't wary at all. In fact, they were excited. The sub-zero temperature and spooky atmosphere didn’t seem to deter them- on the contrary, it just made them more excited to find whatever was out there. What was even the point of this? It wasn’t like they could actually capture it, and even if they did, what then? Herd it onto the R70 bus to Musufastu? Unlikely. 

Kirishima was about to open his mouth to suggest to the avid watchers that they turn back, when a shadow fell across the scattered leaves and silently began to turn it’s head with an ear-piercing screech of metal scraping against metal. It wasn’t them , right? They weren't real. It was probably just a lamppost, or telephone pole, right? He stood frozen to the spot, turning his head wildly in every direction to look for whatever was casting the shadow. His arm was seized by an unknown hand, and Tokoyami dragged him behind a tree, out of sight of whatever might be there. Before he knew it, he was peeking past the tree he was hiding behind, and looking at an ominous figure that towered over them at around 40 feet. A gasp involuntarily escaped from his mouth, but the rest of the group didn’t even seem to notice, staring at the silhouette that stood against the moon in a mixture of wonderment and awe. 

Bakugou had the camera pointed up at their rusted features, though they were too far away to get a really good shot. Thankfully Bakugou knew how to set it onto a sort of night mode, so the creature showed up well in the camera. Kirishima’s eyes did not have such advantages. The almost pitch-blackness of their surroundings made the figure hard to make out to the untrained eye, but the almost indiscernible noises were more frightening than truly knowing the dangers that lurked. The group held their breath, not daring to confirm their suspicions. Dragging footsteps sounded, moving away from them- the creature was leaving. Something brushed past the tree they were hiding by- probably just a branch, Kirishima reminded himself. But did branches look like they were made of nothing more than withered skin and brittle bones? There was a banner on the front outside wall of the diner that was horribly grainy, so much so that you could barely see the contents. You could, however, see the 3 claw-like scratches dragging down the material, even gouging deep grooves into the brick, shredding cotton and leaving him wondering what those kinds of claws could do to a person. And there happened to be a creature nearby with that kind of equipment in it’s arsenal? That couldn’t just be a coincidence.

As the creature’s dragging footsteps slowly became quieter, and Kirishima became sure it was leaving, he let go of a large breath he didn’t know he was holding in, the sigh of relief whistling through his teeth. It was louder than he meant- much louder. Immediately, the horrible screeching noise began to grate on Kirishima’s eardrums as the creature turned around and looked straight at where Kirishima had been approximately 3 seconds ago. He tried to do what he’d seen people in the few horror movies he’d watched with Bakugou do- hold your breath and the monster wouldn’t be able to hear you. The monster stood there, until it felt like his lungs would burst and he couldn’t hold it any longer. 

A tiny gasp escaped his mouth, and that seemed to be enough for the monster to register them. Choppy pieces of a distorted, animalistic voice started emitting from the speakers, loud enough to pop his ears like on a flight. His feet were rooted to the ground, like the layers of leaves padding the forest floor was pulling him down like tar. He didn’t even notice he was running until he felt a cold blast of air against the shell of his ear, and looked down to see his feet sprinting across the forest floor like his life depended on it. Well, maybe it did. Bakugou’s wild laugh came from somewhere around him, as the creature’s footsteps grew louder and louder, chasing after them. The rest of the group was nowhere to be seen, and a fog was seeping through the trees, distorting his vision. 

He ran and ran until he was gasping for air, but still he stumbled blindly through the fog, searching desperately for signs of anything that wasn’t the thing chasing him. The horrible noise was still playing, parts of broadcasts and garbled sounds that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. A scream cut through the night, high and terrified. A scream that made his blood run ice-cold with the realisation. He recognized the voice. Bakugou . All thoughts of leg cramps and the creature forgotten, he raced through the woods, tearing through the branches and stray rocks until he got to where he thought he’d heard the scream and- oh. Right where he’d burst out, there stood the biggest creature Kirishima had ever seen. 40 feet tall, made of flaking mummified skin and wires, and peering down at him. And he was still completely alone.

He couldn’t tell if he was looking at a face or not. It was blurry at first, then sharpened into such amazing detail that Kirishima almost wished he couldn’t see it. Ignorance was so much better than actually knowing what was out there. The sirens that made up it’d head were still making that awful mangled sound, louder than anything Kirishima had ever heard before. He was faintly aware of blood trickling down the side of his face, coming from his ears- that was supposed to happen when you were exposed to loud noises, right?

He wasn’t super aware of what happened next. One minute the creature was leaning over him, the raspy sound of metal scraping against bone almost deafening, the next a noise like no other was screeching out of the speakers in a way that seemed almost pitiful. It wasn’t hostile or threatening like the others were- it was like a jagged scream of pain, ripped from their not-throat in agony. In that moment of weakness, it seemed as if the spell over him was broken. His vision cleared, and his eyes zeroed in on the branch swinging in the wind- with a broken branch right at the level he knew Bakugou could strike it down in the exact area designed to hit the creature and immobilise it for a few seconds. Just enough to give him time to escape. 

He sprinted through the trees, unwavering in his pattern. Left, right, straight ahead, left, right, right, straight ahead. The cool night air hit him like a slap to the face, and he breathed it in victoriously- he was out of the forest. The rest of the group stumbled out onto the empty highway moments later, shaken and roughed up a little, but otherwise unscathed. There was no sound of the creature. It was almost like they’d imagined it. His gaze immediately tracked to Bakugou, who was checking the camera was still safe and had recorded the entire ordeal. Kirishima had no idea why someone would want this to be on the internet, but who would ever believe them if they said this happened without any proof? 

He walked next to Bakugou as the group strolled up the road, talking quietly but enthusiastically about the night’s activities. Their hands were loosely intertwined, just enough for the others to gloss over it. Kirishima still couldn’t get that awful scream out of his head- it was like it was constantly playing on loop. Concentrating on the conversation and the sun starting to rise was helping, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Where would the creature even have gotten it from? Shinso had said they could mimic sounds, but it was really creepy to think that that thing knew what Bakugou sounded like. 

As they walked up the highway, listening to the trees rustle and the wind howl, everyone pretended not to hear the faint sounds of a radio coming from the forest. It was just easier to pretend they didn’t hear it. After all, they were out of the forest. The monster couldn’t reach them there.

Chapter Text

Kirishima arched his back and sighed, the harsh morning light filtering through his blinds relentlessly. At the corner of his eye, he could faintly see Bakugou pulling the blinds open with much more vigor than was necessary on a saturday morning, or any morning, really. Bakugou was unimpressed with his protest hissing and continued letting the merciless light blind him and light up his clock screen. 10:54 am. A perfectly acceptable time to get up on a saturday when you had no assignments due for the next week and a half, all finished at the pressure he’d had to endure by a very persistent blonde. According to him, if he could juggle a triple major in cosmetology, maths and chemistry, as well as a viral youtube channel, then he could finish an essay about nutrients. 

“C’mon Kats, I’m tired . It’s early . And I’m sleeping in. Cuddle with me?”

He gave his best puppy-dog eyes, or as well as he could since his eyelids were partially glued together with the remnants of a sweet, dreamfull sleep. He had been dreaming about riding a steak over a valley of katsudon. It was amazing. Bakugou, however, did not seem to be swayed by the puppy-dog eyes. He kept on opening the curtains, much to Kirishima’s chagrin. 

“Get up and stop complaining, Sunshine, I was up 6 hours ago. Face the day! Things to do! I have no sympathy for you. Also, I have to film a video, so I’m gonna pass on that cuddling endeavor. Maybe next time.”

“Getting up before 5 should be a crime. You’re sentenced to bed jail. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

Bakugou threw a discarded shirt at him playfully and left the room, closing the door as he left so Kirishima could sleep in peace. It wasn’t until at least half an hour later, when the welcome sounds of sociability and laughter floated up from the common room, that he decided to leave the warmth of his bed and finally face the day. When he finally convinced himself to go downstairs, the sounds of vacuous laughter just  made him suspicious, and when he saw all the makeup strewn over the coffee table in the sofa area, it finally clicked in his mind about what they were doing. 

Mina, Bakugou and Denki sat side by side on the sofa, experimenting with foundations and concealers and whatever the fuck went into a “base.” Even after years of dating a famous makeup youtuber, all he knew about makeup was that contour was used to camouflage the nose to pretend you had no nostrils, and that highlighter was often very shiny, and did not refer to the luminescent pieces of stationary Jirou got at Hot Topic. A currently recording camera sat before them, recording whatever type of video they were doing.

It seemed to be a lot more in character for a makeup youtuber than the previous video he’d seen Bakugou film. He was still scarred from that night in the forest. It was popular, though. When Kirishima scrolled through the comments, he was pleasantly surprised to see that most people shared his view of being absolutely terrified of what his cryptid-hunting companions called “fun”

Kirishima snuck in through the back of the room, trying his hardest to not appear in frame. He joined a group of people that were unabashedly watching the group film, and settled down, enjoying the show and their commentary.

“You know what, I don’t feel like doing a full eye look, because I’m supposed to be going to class in, like, two hours, and they told me I can’t have super dramatic makeup in there anymore, which is total bullshit, by the way, so I’m just going to do some graphic liner. And it’s going to be spiky, and also orange, because I have orange nails, and unlike some of you bitches, I know how to colour coordinate. Just, you know, spike it up, make it look like a “boom” bubble in a comic book. Full disclaimer, I don’t read comics because they’re for nerds, I read cool comics that aren't the ones misogynistic Kylo Ren kinnies read.

Okay, now I’m going to add white to give it dimension, because 1 dimension liner is for pussies. One of these days I’m going to learn how to do 4D liner, become a makeup entrepreneur, and familiarize myself with rich people so I can infiltrate it from the inside and burn the white house down. POTUS, if you’re watching this, and I know you are, I’m coming for you. “

Denki was beginning to look very confused and bewildered about the concept of the foreign things he was supposed to be putting on his face. Mina and Bakugou were oblivious to his predicament, or maybe they just didn’t care. Mina was doing the same as Bakugou, just with a bright pink instead of orange that stood out against her dark skin. Denki was trying his best. His eye makeup was less comic-book bubble, and more random strands of yellow that lowkey looked like lighting. Sort of fitting, seeing as he was doing his degree in meteorology, in the hopes of becoming a weather forecaster. Before Kaminari could even start to ask for help, a muffled google escaped Mina’s lips, and he huffed in playful indignation, trying hard to wipe off a particularly deformed line of yellow.

“Well, sorry that I haven't got a comprehensive education in makeup. Some of us have natural beauty.”

As Mina scoffed incredulously, Bakugou cupped Denki’s face in his hands and began to continue the eye makeup, a small concentration frown crinkling up his features as Kami relaxed in Katsuki’s grip.

“Are we about to kiss right now? Because, honestly, I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it, so-”

Thankfully, Bakugou pushed away Denki’s leaning in face, smirking at his puppy dog eyes.

“Watch it, Pikachu. I’m taken. Also, I’m only doing this so that the garbage dump of a comic book bubble looks better.”

“That’s fair.”

Bakugou had turned Denki’s random squiggles into what looked like a lightning storm around his eyes, making the gold lines sharper and outlining the rest of his eye in the yellow eyeliner. He wrinkled his nose, surveying his work as Denki carefully traced the lines with his finger. 

“It’s passable, I guess. Way better than your pitiful attempt, though. Now eyeliner. Black, cool, badass eyeliner.”

He directed his next words at the camera, as Mina sorted through the stuff piled onto Bakugou’s desk, and Bakugou uncapped the eyeliner pen Kirishima had gotten him a few weeks ago as an apology present.

“Do a super long curve, make it reach the end of your face, and none of that baby cat eye shit, or I swear to God I will invert your ribcage, turn it into a suitcase and sell it to some antiques show for upwards of $500.”

After the three had applied their eyeliner in a smooth black, along with helping Denki to get something that didn’t look like a pipe cleaner, Mina picked something up from the table and gasped aloud, fangirling over something Eijirou couldn’t see.

“Wait, oh my god . Okay, these eyelashes are from Midnight Cosmetics, right? And the lash liner?! Holy shit, Bakubro!

Mina exclaimed, examining the eyelashes like they were her firstborn child. Kirishima really didn’t see what was that special about them- they were long, and dark, and that was it. Maybe they had magic abilities. Maybe Midnight Cosmetics was the makeup version of gucci. All he knew was that Denki was looking more panicked by the minute.

“Yeah, I got them a while ago, but I haven't used them. Until now, that is. And we’re going to apply that with the aforementioned lash adhesive liner that is also Midnight Cosmetics and 12 hours waterproof, so, you know, if you need to cry in that time no-one’s going to know and you can go about your day like you didn’t just have a mental breakdown over a chemistry test you only got a fucking 97% in. Because, fuck other people, why is it their buisness if you were crying. Personally I don’t cry, but each to their own, I guess.”

“Ooh, look at that, it’s really pigmented and black. Nice. Also, if 97 is bad for you, I’m horrified to hear about what you think of my 35% in Geographic Studies.”

“I would think maybe you need to actually fucking study sometimes instead of playing Just Dance. The lash glue is also quick drying, so you don’t get any of that weird shit on your fingers when you touch your eyes after you put the liner on, because sometimes I forget to put my contacts in before I do makeup, and having random black blobs in your vision all day is not an optimal scenario. I thought I was having a stroke.”

“And you still went to class? Bakubro, please, sometimes I skip class because I need to catch up on Brooklyn Nine-Nine episodes. Jake Peralta is such a dilf, and I really can’t learn about the Halloween Heist from a geography lecture I wasn’t listening to anyway.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes and continued applying the eyelashes off camera, while Kirishima craned his neck in a fruitless attempt to see what was going on. It seemed to consist of a lot of swearing and delicate prying on of weird spider-esque things he thought were supposed to be the eyelashes.

“You’re fucking insufferable. Have you gotten your eyelashes on yet?”

Mina nodded assent, gesturing to Denki’s safely glued eyelashes. He had quite the reputation for eating things he wasn’t supposed to. Like tide pods. It seemed likely that his insatiable hunger for unsafe things would extend to lash glue. They turned to face the camera, makeup look now almost fully completed.

“Just get a lip liner that matches your eyeliner colour, outline your lips with that, and then fill in the rest with black lipstick. Or, you know, just use clear gloss. If you’re a pussy with no creative spirit. I have nothing against clear gloss, it’s great, but also, using too often is boring and basic and I am obviously neither of those things. And, done.”

Mina had finished approximately the same time as Bakugou, with a luminescent pink lip liner (he didn’t know if he was using that word correctly. He’d just heard it in the context of crocs), and Denki had just gone with the safer option of clear gloss, much to Bakugou’s distaste.

“Oh, yeah, that reminds me, Bakubro, what are you naming this video? I was thinking “cameo from my amazingly talented and seggsy friend Mina and my less talented but ultimately equally good looking friend Denki.”

“What the- how the actual everling fuck did you manage to say seggsy out loud. Also, I don’t know what I’m calling it yet, and I am not taking suggestions, least of all from you dumbasses.”

“Ed Sheeran wouldn’t treat me like this. There, an amazing video title, and applies to this situation. 

“Absolutely not. Ed Sheeran has no place here. This is not a safe zone for Sheerios. Ew, I can’t believe I just said that. You know what, because you’ve annoyed me so much, now I’m calling it “charity work”, because I'm basically volunteering to help the intellectually less fortunate. There. I’m not changing it now.”

As Mina and Denki wailed simultaneously in instant regret, Kirishima smirked behind his hand, and leaned away from the kitchen counter to walk around and nearer to the site of the video to hear the closing message clearer. Bakugou noticed him coming closer, and gave a small wave and smile, before delivering the closing message. 

“Okay, fuckfaces, you probably fucked that up in some way or another, but really, who gives a fuck, because the only people who can tell you what to do are you. Even I can’t tell you what to do, as much as I would like to. Considering that I probably don’t know you in real life, and I am the only person who can actually make a judgement on this makeup look, just fucking go with it and pretend you didn’t make a mistake because no one can be perfect except me, but you can pretend you are and everyone will respect and/or fear you. Anyway, like and subscribe or I’ll kill you. Ground Zero out.”

Chapter Text

Katsuki’s eyes shone ruby red as the sun hit them just right, bouncing off the truck windows and into his eyes as he squinted to see the view. Huge, craggy rocks lined the road they drove down, covered in greenery that crept over them like an invading army. The sun filtered through blonde hair, and Eijirou had to resist the all-empowering urge to run his hands through it. One hand held the steering wheel loosely, the other rested on Katsuki’s thigh gently as his sun-shot eyes looked over at the road.

The beaten-up radio was playing some kind of strange song that Kirishima couldn’t see very clearly on the cracked radio screen, but it seemed to be something with a lot of capital letters. It seemed to have a lot of yelling, random noises, and something that sounded like a police siren. Bakugou had picked it out specifically to “liven up” Kirishima’s choice of almost the entirety of his workout playlist and the Hannah Montana soundtrack. Katsuki’s fingers drummed comfortably on the dashboard, the other hand loosely entangled in his hair. Being so secretive when with their classmates made PDA overwhelmingly natural once they were away.

Bakugou wasn’t wearing makeup right now, and though he was obviously completely infatuated with Bakugou whenever and wherever there was something special in seeing him in times like these. Like he got to see a side of him no one else got to see. Something pure and natural and utterly his.

That wasn’t to say he didn’t love Bakugou with makeup. Katsuki cared so deeply about what he did, that it was impossible for Kirishima not to. Watching him painstakingly make sure every stroke, every dot, every tiny detail was perfect just made Ejirou appreciate the effort Katsuki took in everything. No matter what, he would never half-ass anything. Except, perhaps, their relationship, which even after 2 and a half years, did not want to reveal

Just then, the hit musical masterpiece “Thneedville” came on the radio, and the car was immediately flooded with the beautiful groaning sounds of someone not very happy with their situation.

“Why the FUCK is this on here?”

“It’s a good song!”

“If you’re an eight-year-old child, yeah, maybe!”

“It’s a masterpiece-”

“Turn it off and I’ll give you a handjob.”

The music immediately cut out with a swift scratch, and the car fell silent. Not even 5 seconds after, Katsuki crossed his arms and groaned.

“I’m bored. Give me something to do.”

“Why don’t you do one of those… uh…”

He flapped his hand around madly to explain his point.

“-makeup tutorial things?”

Katsuki gave him a rather worried look that screamed “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Really? I never thought makeup or youtube was something you were into?”

“Yeah. It’s interesting. And I don’t want to listen to you complain about my- by the way, amazing - music taste for the next hour or so.”

“Okay?”

A small smile escaped the blonde’s lips as he began to assemble the necessary equipment for his video.

“Okay.”

Kirishima watched Bakugou balance his phone very precariously on the dashboard, supported by the years-old phone stand his mum had passed onto him after the glue had stopped sticking. He cleared his throat and pressed play.

“Welcome to the road trip, bitches! Today we will be joined by my very good friend Shitty Hair, but he has no experience with makeup so I’ll go easy on him- for now.”

Kirishima gave a half-hearted wave to the camera- he couldn’t understand how Bakugou could talk to the camera like he was really talking to people, and not a chunk of plastic. Maybe he always talked like he was addressing and instructing a crowd of adoring fans.

“I’m doing this in a car, so I can’t grab more supplies, so I’m gonna have to do this with the very limited amount of shit I managed to grab as I was being hustled out the door like a lesser mortal. I only have like, three fucking things because someone doesn’t understand the importance of blush.”

Bakugou directed a frown to Kirishima, who was currently off-camera, but he still felt a moral responsibility to defend himself in front of god-who-knows how many subscribers.

“You blush naturally , why are you paying for something your body does on its own -”

“You can’t SEE the blush when it’s covered in a layer of foundation, and I can’t go without because I kind of don’t want to look like a paler version of a vampire?”

“Sorry I wanted to beat the morning rush?”

As Katsuki made a dismissive noise that sounded an awful lot like “what other cars do you see out here?” (which was fair because for the past few hours they’d been driving in solitude which Kirishima found peaceful and Bakugou found unnerving), Kirishima said something that would unknowingly cost him a whole lot of status in the eyes of his boyfriend.

“Can’t you just… not use foundation?”

The car became dead silent, save for the rumbling of tires on the ground, the sound of Elizabeth Geraldi on the radio and the unmistakable sound of Bakugou’s view of Kirishima dropping abominably low and crashing to the ground.

“Just stick to driving. Ignoring that and moving on, I’m gonna do the base, so pay attention, because I don’t normally do the base in a lot of detail so I will be giving the gift of my foolproof base to you guys. Concealer first- this isn’t the concealer I use most, it’s this one I haven’t used before because I didn’t get a choice on what I got to bring, I just had to throw things in a bag in 5 minutes and hope for the best. I think this is the Uwubami one, ‘cause I ordered a bunch of stuff from her a while ago and I haven’t used anything yet.”

“Uwubami is the one with the snakes?”

“Yeah. Ugh, finally, you retain some knowledge I push into your head.”

Kirishima watched as Bakugou popped open the tube and swiped the liquid experimentally across his face. He was so focused on his video and the reflection that Kirishima could only smile at the endearing sight and return to driving.

“I’m not gonna lie, it’s not that bad. I mean, my heart will always lie with the Hawks concealer and foundation combo but this isn’t bad. Like, I would buy it again, because it covers really well and matches the shade and all of that, but I’m not cheating on my main hoe. This, however, could gain the position of my favourite concealer sneaky link. I’m not sure if I brought the hawks foundation, because I was in a bit of a rush- oh, I brought it!”

Katsuki held up the bottle in proud victory and presented it to the camera like a hard-earned prize.

“I could talk about this fucking foundation for hours . I won’t though because whoever’s a regular on here has probably heard it so much they would rather die than hear it again, and I need you guys to pay my bills, so I guess I’ll lay off for now.”

He dabbed some of it on his face, mainly under the eyes and the forehead.

“Remember to shade match- ‘cause yesterday I saw this girl, right, and her face-neck contrast- I swear to god I’m lucky she didn’t hear me because I would be paying a fuck ton of emotional compensation and therapy for what I said.”

Kirishima had been there. They’d been stocking up for the trip, and some poor girl had walked through the corner shop looking absolutely abysmal. He would have felt bad for her if what Bakugou had said hadn’t been so funny. Speaking of, the blonde next to him was putting on what looked like a brown stick onto his face.

“I’ve actually been experimenting with bronzer lately, because I’m not a pussy, but I think I found a really good way of doing it. I mean, of course I did, I’m amazing. But I’m not gonna put it under my cheekbones, it’s going in the area just under my outer eye, above my cheekbone. Like so. Fortunately, I was blessed by the fashion gods with a good nose, so I don’t really need contour on it, but I’ll do it anyway. Just, like, line the sides of your nose lightly with it, and then do a sort of curved line where the bridge ends on your nose, just before the sort of circly bit art students use when they sketch out noses. Just pretend you’re some random emo putting eyeliner all over their face and you’ll get it. Once you’ve blended that all, put the blush just under where the cheek bronzer was, on the upper cheek apples, and that will be the base.”

Katsuki vigorously blended all that in, once finished looking practically the same as before he started. That was the magic of makeup, he supposed. Was there such a thing as fashion gods? If they were, they had to be shining down on Bakugou almost constantly, or he would not have the luck that he had in various thrift stores. Who found bloody, spiked doc martens for a fiver? Bakugou did.

“Actually, I want highlighter. I got this bitchin’ one from Mirko Cosmetics and I’m addicted to it. I think it has glitter in it because it just makes me look sparkly and very euphoria-looking. I’m actually an 87% personality match to Maddy!”

Katsuki found that exciting. Kirishima found it worrying.

“I’m also a 23% match to Cassie, but we don’t talk about that. So I’m just gonna put it under my eyebrows- on my cheekbones, on the tip of my nose- and the inner corners of my eyes.”

He looked just the same before the application of the makeup, except a tad more sparkly.

Katsuki looked down at the haphazardly packed bag and frowned, internally debating between whatever inconceivable differences there happened to be in the assorted products.

“This one or this one?”

Bakugou held up two separate palettes, one compromised of assorted shades of black and grey (displaying a wonderful amount of choice and diversity), and the other more sunset-toned, with a fire emblem and the name “Burnin’”. Kirishima barely looked at the other before answering “The red one. You’ll match the car!”

Katsuki looked mildly offended at his answer, pouting and staring at the darker palette.

“I got this in a thrift store the day before high school graduation. You can’t see it cause it’s rubbed off, but its name was fifty shades of grey .”

“Your sexual maturity never fails to astound me.”

Katsuki threw his hands up in the air in utter despair of his currently smirking boyfriend.

“Okay, bitch, at least I read it. You watched the movie at age twelve and pretended to cover your eyes at the sex bits.”

“You read Fifty Shades? Also, who told you about that?!”

“Mina did. Okay, moving on, I’ll use the red one. Gotta colour match and all. So, take the darkest colour you have in your set colour, and envision an eyeshadow shape. I don’t care what kind. Honestly, I don’t care what any of you do as long as you don’t attribute your failure to my wise and honourable teachings. It can be a panda eye, for all I care, but don’t blame me. Now-”

Katsuki finished with the dark red, leaving him with a sort of oval with a wing in scarlet, and picked up what Eijirou could vaguely identify as a concealer.”

“This is going to sound weird, but if you doubt me on this, you can just leave, cause I’m right and you’re wrong and there’s no way around it. Put concealer on the eyeshadow you just did. Go from the inner lid, and work your way out, getting lighter in the application as you go across the eyelid.”

There was this face that Katsuki did when he was putting stuff on his eyes, and it was the most adorable thing in the world. He would scrunch up his nose, and do this sort of lopsided pouting frown. Kirishima took his eyes off the road for a second, and just watched him. He watched the love of his life.

“Now-”

Bakugou scrambled to pick up the palette that had fallen into the backseat, arms flailing wildly in the process. Kirishima immediately swerved wildly, his vision of the road blocked by the waving, perfectly manicured hands in his face.

“Stop! Stop! I can’t see! I’m gonna crash the fucking car!”

Just as the car gave one last swerve, Katsuki popped back up, looking a little windswept but otherwise perfect. As always.

“What?”

Kirishima had to resist the urge to groan. Spacial awareness was not his boyfriend's strong suit.

“Has anyone ever told you you’d make a wonderful window wiper?”

“People tell me I’d be wonderful in a lot of careers. Anyway, next, a slightly lighter shade of your original colour. So, for me, a lighter red or orange. Just, y’know, buff buff buff it out. Blend that motherfucker.”

He brushed along the top of his eyelids with a colour that was called “arsonist fire”, which seemed to be fitting. Kirishima was also partial to the colour right next to it, called “graveyard sunset.” The people naming these colours truly had talent.

“Obviously, now eyeliner. Eyeliner is what some people, including the mandatory campus therapist, call my “unhealthy coping mechanism” and “a tool of the devil”. Good thing this one is called “Satan’s Trident.” It's from the AFO line, which was like this super underground emo 80’s thing that literally no one had ever heard of, but I read a newspaper article from around that time stapled in my maths class that told me the line was discontinued because the maker was actually a convicted serial killer. Anyway, I found like, STACKS of this eyeliner in my grandma’s attic when I went to visit her in Russia, so I took a bunch and now I have a lifetime supply of murder eyeliner.”

Sometimes Katsuki genuinely frightened Eijirou.

“Just swipe that across the line you created with your original eyeshadow if you were smart enough to listen to me and make one. If you weren’t, live with it, I guess. Not my problem.”

He did the left eye perfectly, with no hiccups. He preferred to do the eye on the other side of his dominant hand because it “proved he was better than all those shitty extras that couldn’t do it.” Katsuki’s ability to put on steady, clean eyeliner while in a moving car driving down an exceptionally bumpy road. However. Sitting in the driver's seat, just watching the process was entertaining, but he wanted to interact. 

Screech.

The car took a sudden, screaming turn, jolting the whole car to one side and then back again. Just as Bakugou happened to be doing his right eye eyeliner. Slowly, Katsuki turned to look at him, daggers in his eyes, and also what looked like an overextended, jagged line of eyeliner stretching over half his face.

“Are you fucking joking me?”

Something about the sight of the scowl on the face of someone whose eyeliner had gone very, very wrong just made Kirishima want to grin.

“If I happen to disappear mysteriously, just remember this is all recorded.”

He replied, with a solemn nod to the camera. Bakugou huffed and started damage control on the crack across his face.

“Just remember editing exists, and arsenic is contained in apple seeds, and crushed apple seeds look suspiciously similar to protein power, so. Watch yourself. You’re very fucking lucky one of my many talents is makeup repair.”

As Katsuki began to fix the look, the radio started to play a song that Kirishima had chosen, from some musical Mina had introduced him to that he couldn’t remember the name of. He rolled down the windows, and let the music flood through them, letting the aura of peace wash over him. Bakugou finished his work, and put whatever he was using to fix it down. He momentarily paused and frowned at the current look, taking it all in. 

“I feel like something’s missing. I need something extra. Some pizazz, if you will.”

He scrambled in his years-old bumblebee patterned makeup bag, looking for an elusive “pizazz”. That makeup bag had been through a lot- it had been there in their first year when they were strangers, then classmates, then friends. It had been there through every late-night study session or group hangout or game night. It had been there halfway through their second year, where Kirishima had ended up in Bakugou’s room at 3 am in the morning after a particularly cold snowball fight. And it had been there in the weeks after, where neither knew what to do, or how to act with each other. And then it had been there in the years after, when they snuck out for secret date nights, to movie nights, to the little things that made up their relationship.

“I think I may need extra eyeliner. I know, shocking. I’m underlining the wings with dark brown, and then white pencil on the waterline, just to make them really pop.”

He sat back, satisfied with the current state of his eyes.

“I need mascara now. I better have brought the one I need, or you’re in serious fucking trouble, mister.”

“Why am I in trouble?!”

“Because you fucking rushed me! It doesn’t matter now, anyway, I found it. Lucky you.”

A short, thick, black bottle of mascara was drawn out of the bag, something Kirishima was incredibly grateful to see. 

“You know how all UK girls have those spider eyelashes? Yeah, this is based on that. Normally I don’t use this one because it's really thick, but I think this look calls for it. Just- cake that mascara on there. If you think it’s too much, it’s not enough. Go big or go home, I say. Anyone who says I’m putting too much on can go fuck themselves because If I know anything, it’s mascara, and this look calls for a lot of it.”

As he spoke, he paused intermittently to get that thick stroke of eyeliner just right. Katsuki blinked experimentally a few times, looking sort of like a cat unused to light. He’d perfected the art of not having an “ugly mascara face”, as Mina called it. He could just place it on completely neutrally like it was the most natural thing in the world. The blonde in shotgun held up a plastic sheet covered in tiny cheap stick-on silver gems to the camera, examining it in the rear-view mirror.

“Gems or no gems?”

Kirishima looked at the gems, and then back at Bakugou, analysing it like it was nuclear war codes and he was the president in a state of dire distress.

`

“Go big or go home.”

Katsuki gave him a secret smile the camera wouldn’t see or understand, eyes flicking backwards and forwards between him and the camera.

“Right answer. So, if you don’t have gems, or like, a white eyeliner- any colour eyeliner, really, it just needs to make dots- have fun being basic, I guess. If you do, then take off each gem and put them around the shape of your eyeshadow. If you have some spare ones, put them around your hairline.

He fiddled around with the gems for a few more minutes, appearing to have a rather tumultuous rivalry with the gems. It involved a lot of swearing, some muffled screaming, and an uncooperative sheet of gems being thrown out of the moving window. Finally, the majority of the desired gems were stuck where he wanted them (mostly), and Kirishima could finally drive without the impending fear of getting hit with a sticky plastic see-through dollar-store gem.

“Okay, assorted slags and sluts, if you possess even an inkling of intelligence, you should be channelling Maddy Perez, or a sparklier, more put-together Azula, or someone else childhood me based their personality off of. The only thing left to do is lippy. Oh, fuck, gross, I sound like my mother. Editing that out later. Moving on, the eyes sort of speak for themselves with this look, so lips don’t have to be all that complicated. Use some sort of tinted lipgloss, I don’t care what colour as long as it works with the eyeshadow colours. I’m using the Mt. Lady one that I got at age fourteen when I shopl- bought it. It’s amazing how long it’s lasted, actually. Five years! This lipgloss was still around when Raspberry Stickman was still together. Fuck, that’s depressing. It’s matte, which is good because we’re putting something else on over this. The shade of muted rose, if you can believe it. Now that that’s on, grab a clear lipgloss- preferably one with sparkles or glitter or some other shit in it, but I understand if you didn’t have the foresight and intellect as I do to think ahead.”

“I thought you grabbed all of this randomly, not with foresight?”

“Shush. No one asked for your opinion on my lipgloss, Shitty Hair. This one is also from the Mt. Lady line, but it’s got a really long name. It’s quite a mouthful. Get ready to meet the Ultra sheer-satin moisturising-plumping hydrating-longlasting glitter-infused crystal-clear lip gloss. No wonder this shit cost so much, they probably spend half the budget on labels alone. It comes in massive tubes though, so I guess that makes up for it. Just put that on there and… Done! That is the finished look. I guess it really is a testament to my overbearing talent that I can perform a flawless makeup look in a moving vehicle.”

Katsuki examined the finished look in his rear-view mirror, which Eijirou had not been able to look in for quite some time now due to the current dictatorship being performed upon it by the man in the seat next to him.

“Remember to tune in next Saturday at 8 pm JST for more cosmetic-related shenanigans.”

And with that, the camera was turned off, Bakugou relaxed back into his seat, and they continued to drive.

They drove in comfortable solitude for another hour or so. Katsuki had taken off the gems about 7 minutes after the video ended, claiming they gave him an allergic reaction, but Kirishima just thought he couldn’t be arsed to deal with the feeling of objects on his face. One of the reasons Kirishima had wanted to come here was that it was pretty far out, a good 3 or 4 hours drive. Far from civilisation, far from U.A and the campus and the city. They could be themselves, they could love each other without the overwhelming fear on Katsuki’s part about being discovered. At some point in that last hour, rain began to spit down onto the windshield as the sky got darker and slate clouds began to grow above them. Kirishima switched on the headlights, and they drove on, watching droplets of rain splash onto the scarlet car exterior.

Eventually, a blinking red light came on, signifying they were low on fuel. Thankfully, the beaten-up, rusted, graffitied signs lining the road seemed to say there was a gas station near. Soon, they pulled up, at this cheap, tacky old station with a slightly broken neon sign and a floor that looked like 10000 cigarettes had been put out on it. Spray paint and sharpie covered almost every square inch of concrete, and the only other car there ( a beaten-up old camper van with taped-up windows) seemed to be rocking very suspiciously. All in all, Katsuki was right at home. 

The rain was pouring down like the angels themselves were chucking buckets of water off of their clouds so grey they were almost black. Katsuki peered out of the dusty car window dubiously, weighing the pros and cons of going out.

“Nope. No. Not a chance.”

“Come onnnn…”

Kirishima whined at his boyfriend as he proceeded to stare out at the drenching rain. 

“Just come out. I won’t know what you want if you don’t come with me?”

“Must I fucking remind you I put on makeup, like an hour ago? You may be willing to risk my talents, but I am not.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“The physical appearance of the please makes no difference to me. I’m not going.”

Kirishima hopped out of the driver's seat and made his way over to Katsuki’s window, which he reluctantly rolled down. 

“Ok. Want anything? We’ll be on the road a little longer.”

“Corn nuts.”

“Ok. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Katsuki leant out of the window and placed his lips on Kirishima’s, ignoring the feeling of rain droplets on the back of his head. Kirishima savoured the moment and the taste of cherry lipgloss on Katsuki’s lips. They so rarely had this time away from everything, and if that meant “love you”’s in gas stations and kissing in the rain, so be it. Eijirou pulled away a beat too early and opened his eyes to find Bakugou smirking at him as he caught his breath.

“Good luck.”

Kirishima huffed, and bent down, starting to fill up the voluminous tank of the car. Even though he’d only been out in the open for a few minutes, his hair was already sopping wet and hanging just below his shoulders in wet clumps. Once the arduous task was completed, and the scarlet monster had successfully drained all of the station’s supply, he began to head inside.

“Sure you don’t wanna come out?”

He yelled back at Katsuki, as he trekked backwards into the safety of the roof. The blonde leaned over the window, yelling back at him over the thundering rain.

“Yeah. Get me some corn nuts?”

“What flavour?”

“BBQ. Aka, the only right flavour.”

Kirishima mimed a hand over his ear, still backing away from the harsh neon lights.

“Sorry, what, babe? I didn’t hear you. You wanted ranch flavour?”

“No, don’t you dare. Not fucking ranch! You can’t trick me like this, I’m not getting out!”

He gave a thumbs up and proceeded to back away, while Katsuki yelled back at him in vain.

“Not ranch! BBQ- oh, fuck .”

Slowly, the car door opened as Katsuki looked up into the rapidly greying, star-spotted sky, wincing at the torrential onslaught of rain as he became resigned to the fact that if he wanted his request, he would have to go out there and fulfil it himself.

“If my makeup runs, it’s all your fault.”

“You can do it, babe!”

Kirishima yelled back encouragingly, holding up a thumbs up which only served to further enrage him. In a mad dash, Bakugou sprinted across the tarmac to the gas station (what kind of place like this didn’t have a roof? It was just machines and one lone shop in the middle.) shrieking all the while. Just before he reached the cool, quiet sanctuary of the station, Kirishima caught him and pushed the both of us back out in the rain. The downpour was nothing like they had ever seen before, and Katsuki was immediately drenched. He stood stock still, just for a few seconds, but it was enough for the rain to completely enfulge him, and for Kirishima to catch a glimpse of what a sopping wet, drowned cat would look like. 

“You dick!”

Bakugou gasped, his enragement slightly losing its ferocity due to the fact that he was completely and totally soaking. 

“Come on! Enjoy the moment!”

Kirishima stepped out into the middle of the clearing and raised his face to the storm. He felt every singular droplet of rain splash onto his face and every crack of thunder that had Bakugou jolting next to him.

“I don’t understand the point of this?”

“The point is to live! To do what we want! Who cares about getting wet!”

Kirishima spun around, welcoming the feeling of rain covering his entire body as he spun and spun and spun without end. With a moment’s hesitation, Bakugou joined in. They must have been a sight- two drenched teenagers spinning around in the gas station in the middle of a storm. They spun for about a minute, just standing in the rain, before Katsuki staggered away, head churning with a swimming pool’s worth of rain inside of it.

Slowly but steadily, Kirishima began to hear music. Soft at first, but it grew louder, even combating the raging storm around them. Eijirou held out his hand to Katsuki, who took it instantly.

“May I have this dance?”

“You may.”

Kirishima did not come from a dancing background, and he had not ever learned to, and he most definitely did not know how to dance, but he would be damned if he didn’t try. His hands were somewhere on Bakugou’s amazingly tiny waist, and Bakugo’s hands were on his shoulders. Neither of them knew how to dance, and it consisted of a lot of giggling, stepped toes and technically horrific dancing, but it was not awkward. They just looked at each other and tried in vain to step to the beats of the song. It was something uniquely theirs, something Kirishima would hope they would remember in the years to come and smile.

Soon, the song ended, which Kirishima was vaguely sad about since he was starting to get the hang of it, and they stepped away from one another. Katsuki gasped, and slowly took notice of the fact that his body weight was now mostly made up of water.

“I am so wet.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Shut the fuck up, you unbearable loser”

Katsuki couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice. The rain seemed to slow, and the storm seemed to calm as Kirishima leaned in, and touched his lips to the others. Even the rocking van in the corner seemed to go silent- they were completely alone in the world, and nothing could interrupt them as their lips darted in and out from one another, soaking bodies pressed up against one another as Kirishima’s hand reached up to Bakugou’s face and-

Suddenly, a flash of lightning ripped through the sky like someone was taking jagged, celestial scissors and slicing through the canvas of the sky, accompanied by a deafening rumble of thunder. Before Kirishima could even blink there was a very wet, very jumpy blonde in his arms glaring up at him.

“If we do not go inside right fucking now I am leaving you and I am taking the car.”

Who could refuse an offer like that?

They stepped into the station, water pooling at their feet, and every step they took was punctuated by a few drips of water from their waterlogged hair. The fluorescent lights blinked down at them, casting their faces in a strange pale glow that would not be out of place in an alien spaceship. Katsuki huddled up to him, practically glued to his arm. The overbearing wetness and the sudden cold that had joined them since entering the overly air-conditioned building was a nice excuse. 

They traipsed down the aisles, picking up anything that looked the littlest bit like it would sustain them in the long run. After all, they were staying overnight and had quite a bit of driving to do in the morning. Amongst others, on their shopping trip, they picked up beer, vodka, orange juice, strawberry laces, iced coffee, BBQ corn nuts, Vogue, pot noodles, marshmallows, M&Ms, monster energy, Lucozade, matches, lighters, and two t-shirts embossed with the charming corona logo. The T-shirt swamped Bakugou, but he was a fan of the whole “trailer park couture” vibe, so Kirishima was almost certain he’d be met with scissors, a needle, thread and a whole lot of swearing on the way back.

Katsuki was one of those people who could just look at clothes and know what was right and what was wrong and how to fix it. Everything he wore just seemed to fit right , look right , feel right . And one of his many talents was taking oversized, ugly t-shirts, and turning them into formfitting tanks or crop tops that any sorority girl would be lucky to wear. In fact, the top he’d been wearing on that fateful night in the woods he was almost certain had once been his, and he’d made the awful mistake of leaving it in Bakugou’s room long enough for him to forget it wasn’t his.

Soon enough, the rain quietened down, and Kirishima dumped their pile of junk food and alcohol on the cashier’s desk. He paid- waiting tables at the nice place uptown paid well, and he liked to exert his gentlemanly nature sometimes-, they put on their newly minted beer promotion t-shirts and hit the open road. The sky was still dark- by this time it had to be about 11 or 12- but the rain had stopped, and they could drive down in peace.

An hour or two later, once both had gotten set up and Kirishima had finally finished his report (Katsuki had no idea how someone could write that much about a cliff.) they’d finally been able to relax. The two were curled up in the back of the truck, Kirishima’s arm around Bakugou and both of them stealing as much body heat from the other as they could. The thin blanket didn’t do too much for the cool late march night air, but it provided at least a little comfort, and the frost gave them a hell of an excuse to climb all over one another under the pretence of keeping warm.

“-So, the points of Cassiopeia and the big dipper both lead to the end of the little dipper, which is the north star. Which is the big bright one.”

“How eloquent.”

“Shut up. Oh, I see you. See, that's the Aries, the one with the stars making the corner shape. That means you’re… brave. Self-assertive. Ambitious. Competitive. Impulsive. Lacking empathy. Tactless. Short-tempered.”

“So those stars are the bitch stars.”

Kirishima could hear the laugh in Katsuki’s voice, and he could practically taste the smile he was sure the blonde was displaying. You said it, not me was what Kirishima would say if he were a braver man, but he was not, and so he stuck with the sensible option.

“Yeah, basically. That’s what you get for being a fire sign.”

“What about you?”

“Uhhh…” 

Kirishima squinted and looked up to the starry sky, searching for the elusive Libra sigil.

“I remember Mina saying it sort of looked like a pizza box table…”

“You remember what mine is and not yours?”

“Well, I did spend a good portion of freshman year looking up Libra-Aries compatibility. Did you know that according to galaxyfreeks.blogcity.net, we should be having amazing sex and also the best emotional connection of our lives?”

Katsuki frowned and looked back up at the sky, no doubt weighing the pros and cons of paying a visit to galaxyfreeks.blogcity.net.

“You looked up compatibility? Should I have done that?”

“Well, I was greatly and significantly in love with you, which may have contributed towards my need to know what a 12-year-old thought about my love life.”

Katsuki blushed a flattering shade of tomato red and hid his burning face in Kirishima’s chest.

“You’re a nerd.”

“Your nerd.”

A calloused hand snaked its way to Katsuki’s collarbones, tracing it’s way upward to brush a piece of soft blonde hair behind his ear. Kirishima shuffled forward, just the tiniest bit- then again. Due to the limited space in the truck, their bodies were completely pressed up between one another, each lip entangled with another in an unsolvable puzzle. It seemed like they were the only people in the world.

Before Eijirou could take things further, Katsuki pushed himself backwards, back up against the side of the truck- only an arm's length away from him, but it seemed like miles.

“The camera’s still on…”

Katsuki gave him an apologetic smile and moved to turn the camera off. He didn’t move back until the red light had fully stopped blinking.

“Ok… where were we?”

Katsuki moved back towards him, settling himself against his chest, somehow a different person than a few seconds ago. He waited, in awkward silence, for Kirishima to do the same, but Eijirou exhaled, and sat up, staring blankly through the cliff as he breathed. Bakugou blinked up at him, watching the redhead practically ignore him. He sat up too, albeit a bit jilted and nervous;

“Wait, what’s wrong?”

Kirishima got out of the truck, swinging his legs out and stepping out onto the cold tarmac.

“I can edit it out, it’s not a big deal-”

He swung around, expression almost disbelieving at what he was hearing.

“You think that's what this is about?!”

Katsuki swung his legs off of the truck, and let them dangle, arms wrapped securely around himself like a blanket.

“What is this about, then? You’re obviously upset, and I have no idea what about, so-”

“Why do we need to hide?”

The words came out before Kirishima could register them on his tongue, but he saw Bakugou’s eyes slightly widen, and the recoil that came after. 

“I’m not hiding , I’m just-”

Eijirou swung round, lifting his head to the sky as he practically laughed . A cruel, mocking sound, but his words were far more hurtful.

“No, yes, yes you are. You don’t kiss me on camera. Our friends, my family doesn’t know about us. 10 million strangers know about me, but not Kaminari, Mina, Sero, Todoroki, Midoriya, or anyone else.”

Blankly, Katsuki stared at him. His scarlet eyes followed him as he paced back and forward about the truck, his next words coming with a trace of sullen anger and betrayal.

“I thought you were fine with keeping this a secret.”

“I was fine with it. I was fine with it at the beginning when we weren’t sure about anything. I was fine with it when you weren’t out. And I was fine with it afterwards because I know that it would take a while for you to be comfortable. But we’ve been dating for 2 and a half years, and we’re graduating in 4 months. I need to know if you’re serious about this, or if you want a college fling and something to brag about on youtube without actually telling anyone.”

It was like Katsuki didn’t even hear him, in his impassioned speech-of-sorts- he just stared, eyes growing gradually colder by the minute, but still in a way that made Kirishima feel like he was somehow betraying some secret tryst. 

“I thought you understood.”

In the corner of his vision, as he minutely rolled his eyes, he could see Katsuki getting off the truck and leaning against it as he watched Eijirou, still with that stony look in his eyes.

“Fuck, I do understand-”

“No, you don’t get it. Not everyone gets to have their happy supportive coming-of-age moment like you. Not everyone gets to be you . I can’t just go up to my parents like you can and just tell them I’m dating a guy. My parents are not your parents. I haven’t even talked to them since I got emancipated. And -and- my friends are not your friends.”

Eijirou stilled for a moment, processing that last sentence. They were only about two meters away from each other- Bakugou leaning against the truck, Kirishima standing stock-still in the dark of the cliff face, but they had never felt so far apart. Rain was only just starting to spit down, a few drops here and there, but Eijirou could tell it was going to turn into a torrent.

“What does that mean?”

Katsuki just sighed, and sunk deeper into himself, eyes boring into Kirishima’s soul.

“They’re your friends, Ei. They just tolerate me. They’re friends with you because they want to be. They’re friends with me because I’m friends with you. If we told them, and then we argued, or broke up or something, they would take your side. Without question . Even if you still wanted to stay friends, they wouldn’t. I’m not friends with them the same way as you are. I’m not the kind of person that has friends.”

“ Don’t try and make this a pity thing for yourself when you’re the one who's too scared to admit we’re dating.”

Kirishima saw Bakugou’s eyes widen, and his nostrils flare and saw him push himself off of the truck and stride towards him like he was picking a fight. Like he was fighting with Kirishima. Like they were enemies .

“I’m not! Not everyone gets to live in your little bubble of the perfect family and perfect friends and a perfect fucking life, and I’m just trying to fucking survive and I’m sorry that me maybe wanting a little more privacy in my life that millions of people are watching- and stating the truth which is that I will be left alone if we ever argue because “our” friends are your friends- is me doing a pity thing and victimising myself. I am so, so sorry that when I asked if you were ok with keeping it a secret, you said you were, and I assumed you would be okay for more than four days!”

Katsuki’s voice got louder and louder, battling against the sound of rain becoming harder and faster, a slow spit turning into a full-blown storm. Kirishima stepped towards Katsuki, his voice matching the other in terms of volume and aggression.

“It’s been two and a half years . Two and a half years of being with someone who can’t bring up the courage to tell people about us. I have been in love with you every day of those two and a half years and so many more since you walked through that door on orientation day, and I don’t understand if you feel the same or not, because if you did, wouldn’t you tell people?”

Katsuki’s mouth opened with another denial, another false truth, another argument  (because the only thing he knew how to do in times like these was scream and shout and push the other person away) but Eijirou pushed onward, yelling right back. His voice carried out over the wide expanse of nothing, shouting over the thundering sound of rain.

“No, no, do you know what it feels like to be constantly pushed aside? You keeping our friends, your following, and the public opinion of you are all more important than our relationship. You act as if-”

“Oh yeah, because I care more about a fucking social media account than the most important relationship of my life-”

“-we can just go on like this forever like we can get different jobs and act like friends and sneak behind HMVs to make out. We can’t secretly fuck at conferences, we can’t live like this. This stops here, or we tell people. I’m not going to waste my life on someone who can’t even admit we’re together. I’m not going to look back on graduation photos and have to explain to my kids that no, that’s not your dad, that's someone who strung me along for years and then realised that this relationship can’t go anywhere unless they decide they want to commit.”

“Don’t, then! Go! Just go! Stop wasting your life on this relationship, that, according to you, is going nowhere. If you think it’s so easy to make a decision about your relationship that could ultimately ruin your life, make it! Make the decision! I promise you I’m not telling anyone anytime soon, so you can stay and learn to deal with the fact that people live in different circumstances, or we can break up, and you can be with someone who won’t waste your time.”

Eijirou could see Katsuki’s face in the brake lights- he stood before Kirishima, eyes wide open like a deer caught in the headlights, watching and waiting silently. Kirishima’s mouth opened, and nothing came out. He blinked once- then again. Rain fell between them, and the only sound was the droplets shattering on the ground and the wind screaming around them. He stayed silent. And every moment he was silent, every moment he didn’t confirm or deny what Katsuki was thinking drove cracks in the very foundation of their relationship.

“Yeah. Okay. I see how it is.”

“Katsuki, wait-”

But he was already gone. Katsuki stormed out into the rain, leaving Kirishima behind only comforted by the dim headlights. His black figure steadily retreated, until he was a dot on the side of the highway like the freckles Kirishima had grown to love. Kirishima’s feet stayed rooted to the ground. Even if he wanted to move, he couldn’t. He was stuck there, stock still next to his truck in the pouring rain, watching who he thought was the love of his life walk away.

Chapter Text

The music was too loud. Kirishima dimly thought that he could just turn it down, considering that it was actually his car, but the people in the backseat would probably whine at him until it was turned back up to unbearable volumes, so he let it be. He unwittingly cast his mind back to that fateful trip he’d taken with Bakugou almost 2 months prior, as he found himself doing a lot nowadays. The music had been low, just loud enough for him to sing along to as he drove, but quiet enough for it to not intrude when he gazed at Katsuki. Now, it was pounding in his skull, and his knuckles went white as he gripped the steering wheel. His state of frustration wasn’t helped by his passengers. 

For the last week or so, they’d been begging him to take them. And he’d told them a thousand times that there was no way he was putting himself in that situation again. And then he’d put himself in said situation again. He was in a car with 5 of his strangest friends, driving to locate a creature he was really hoping didn’t exist. And he wasn’t even getting paid. This whole situation was deranged. And Kirishima didn’t like it one little bit. Not only was his car getting far too loud, with the volume on the playlist practically through the roof, and the people behind him screaming and shouting in a caffeine haze, but he was fairly sure that he was going to die tonight. He should have never gotten a car, let alone one big enough to fit 7 people.

Well. It didn’t exactly fit seven people inside . Tokoyami was on the truck bed (the one Kirishima was pointedly avoiding thinking about), probably squawking at the birds they passed, or sleeping. And the four in the backstreet were squashed up against each other in a formation that couldn’t be comfortable. Todoroki was practically splayed against the window, and Hagakure was almost sitting on Mina’s lap. Nevertheless, they seemed to be having fun, considering the amount of yelling. He was just grateful the quietest of the bunch, Shinso, was in the seat next to him so he wouldn’t be constantly blasted by commentary on the best position for monsterfucking. Though, Shinso wasn’t exactly quiet either. Every minute or so, he would lean back and deliver some sarcastic dialogue that would earn him an eye-roll at least, and a kick in the back of the chair at most. Usually delivered by the other occupant of the car.

Every so often, Kirishima would find himself flicking his eyes up to the rearview mirror, and he would catch a glimpse of fluffy blonde hair and sparkling red eyes. He was laughing a lot. He hadn’t looked at Kirishima once this whole journey. At least, to his knowledge. He could be looking at Kirishima just a second after him, missing him by a glance. Or he could be determinedly looking away from Kirishima, forcing himself to avoid his gaze. Or, he could really not care. Kirishima didn’t know. He didn’t really know Bakugou anymore. 

They hadn’t talked much in the last 2 months. Just under-the-breath comments here and there, and a quick glance afterwards. Stilted monosyllabic exchanges forced by circumstances and their friends, averted eye contact throughout and awkward greetings. They had no idea what was going on with each other. Their friends had even fewer ideas. They didn’t know the exact ins and outs, but they knew Bakugou and Kirishima were not speaking to each other, and no amount of persuasion would make them.

To their credit, they hadn’t tried to take sides. They’d done their best to reconcile the two, and when that plan crumbled, they’d allowed them their own space, while letting them know a falling out between friends wouldn’t ruin other connections. They hadn’t talked about one with the other and had refused any sort of allegiances or team Kirishima versus team Bakugou. And even though he knew they were probably talking to Bakugou the same way they were talking to him, it made him feel better to know his friends had his back. Though, he was painfully aware that they’d visited him before they’d visited Bakugou. He knew it didn’t necessarily prove any favouritism or prove Bakugou’s point, but it still brought up a sickening, wondering feeling in his chest that made him ask if he’d made the right decision.

Kirishima was trying his hardest not to look at Bakugou. He really, really was. But there was just something about him that begged to be looked at. That pulled Kirishima in with explosive magnetism, which commanded attention and respect and love. And every time he looked back, his heart would break a little. Because, there was Bakugou, smiling and laughing and ignoring. After the first 2 weeks, full of arguments and screaming matches about a situation only the two of them really knew, they’d lapsed into something else Kirishima vastly preferred arguing to. As much as he disliked the way he was trying his hardest to hurt someone he’d once thought could be his everything, and how he lay in bed after a fight feeling their broken relationship splinter even further, he hated silence even more. Bakugou would brush past him, head held high, acting like Kirishima meant nothing to him, and Eijirou would just have to go along with it. Bakugou had barely spoken to him in the last month and a half, and Kirishima ached for the temperamental blonde and his sharp-tongued ways to once again lash out at him.

Mina was reading out the messages from their house group chat - the first few months all twenty of them were living there, it became clear that nothing could get done without a group chat, but it had quickly devolved into debauchery and the spamming of tiktoks. No one knew quite how the twenty of them had ended up living together, but they did know that most of them used the group chat as their primary form of communication. Therefore, Kirishima expected a large number of messages once he got his phone back, mainly compromising of Midoriya begging them to tell him all the details, only leaving out the spookier parts. Midoriya had just as much unsettling interest in cryptids as the rest of them, only he didn’t possess the same adventuring spirit they did. Kirishima empathised. He was planning on waiting in the car for them.

Mina was having great fun reading out his messages, playing up the begging for information to a laughing audience. Even Bakugou was cracking up, who in freshman year would have blanched at the idea of interacting with Midoriya. Nowadays, they got on more than they did freshman year, where Bakugou took it as some kind of personal attack that Midoriya got into a college after one year of preparation when Bakugou had done everything possible for the opportunity. They would reference things from high school that no one understood, and laugh at people when they tried to understand whatever the fuck they were talking about. And their intertwined history made them a deadly game night pairing. Nonetheless, no one particularly wanted to bring up anything relating to their year of rivalry and competition in a mean way. And normally, Kirishima wouldn’t either. But he wanted the feeling of Bakugou’s eyes on him. And he wanted to punish him for their fight. And he would do it, even if it hurt. 

“Christ, Bakugou, do you ever stop talking about him? It’s like you want us to know you’re jealous of Midoriya.”

The tone of his voice was just a little too venomous to be mistaken for friendly banter, especially judging their circumstances. The other passenger’s eyes darted between Bakugou and Kirishima, waiting in sickening anticipation for a nuclear fallout. Bakugou stayed slouched, but Kirishima saw the tensing of his shoulders and the spark in his eyes.

“Yeah, you’d know all about jealousy, wouldn’t you? I know if I ate lunch alone every day for 4 years and didn’t have a single signature on my end-of-year shirt, I’d be jealous of people with friends too.”

Mina’s mouth opened as if to try to stop the exchange that was surely going to turn into something far worse, but nothing came out. Kirishima, on the other hand, wasn’t going to let such obvious hypocrisy go. And, after 2 months of keeping it locked up, his frustration came spilling out.

“You want to talk about friends? Didn’t you say none of these people were your friends, like, 2 months ago?”

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed, and Kirishima saw how he unconsciously moved away from the others when he next spoke.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Sure sounded like it.”

“Well, maybe that’s because you have the critical thinking of a toddler. You know, having friends and going to the gym won’t help you graduate? Just because those seem to be your only personality traits.”

They were both trading low blows, caring not what they said, only if it stung as hard as the other’s words.

“You’re attacking me for having friends now? Sorry, forgot you don’t know much about that.”

“You’re here because you have a car big enough. None of us wants you here for your company , Kirishima.”

His shoulders tensed. Hard enough for Shinsou to look over at him, and for Bakugou to know how much of an effect his words had on him.

“Well, my car sure seemed too small for you to get into it and let me drive you back to the university.”

Kirishima didn’t know why he brought that up. It was a surefire weakness for Bakugou to pick up and exploit. Maybe it was just to remind himself that Bakugou was the first to walk away.

“You’re the one that drove away from me.”

“You ran away!”

“You left me in the middle of fucking nowhere in the middle of a lightning storm! I could have been killed, and you fucking drove away listening to fucking Hannah Montana!”

Kirishima winced, remembering the event he was referring to. Bakugou had walked away, and Kirishima had barely waited a minute or two before driving off. It wasn’t like him. Normally, he would have waited. He would have waited for Bakugou to cool off, and he would have driven him back because it was insane for Bakugou to make a 4 hour car journey in the middle of a storm with barely anything on him. But he was angry and upset, and he was grieving a relationship and a friendship, so he drove off. And he had listened to Hannah Montana. It was the first thing that came on, and he didn’t have the heart to turn it off. Then, Mina had innocently looked at his Spotify listening history and mentioned it to Bakugou. It hadn’t blown over well.

He didn’t have a great idea of what had happened once Bakugou had walked away from him that day. He hadn’t wanted to ask. 

“Sure, bring that up. Just because you know I can’t argue with it.”

“Yes, I will bring it up! Because you left me, in a fucking lightning storm, alone, in the middle of nowhere!”

He couldn’t really argue with that. Just as he couldn’t the other 4 times Bakugou had brought it up to win a battle. But he tried anyway.

“The gas station was like, 45 minutes away on foot.”

He sounded sullen, and he was losing the argument. As he often did. Bakugou wasn’t afraid to argue, and he had a lot more practice at it than Kirishima. And he seemed to have very little reluctance to go straight for the weak spots in Kirishima’s argument, and his armour.

“You wanted me to walk forty-five-fucking-minutes in the pouring rain on my own just to get to a phone?! Who would I even call?!”

As Kirishima replied, he could hear the hushed whispering going on in the background, and see the way their friends were looking at them. Nevertheless, he carried on, letting his grip on the wheel slacken as he turned around again.

“I don’t know, family?”

“I can’t call my family, dipshit. And you know that, what did you think I was going to do then?”

“Seems idiotic to not call your family to pick you up in those circumstances, no matter what issues you’ve had.”

“You don’t know anything about my family.”

There was a certain grit in Bakugou’s voice that hadn’t been there before, daring him to say whatever he wanted to say. Looking back, Kirishima shouldn’t have said what he said. It was too far, by a long shot, but he wanted to take a cheap shot at Bakugou, and he wanted to make him hurt. So he said the first thing he thought of that he knew would sting the most.

“Well, I know the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree-”

Kirishima noticed the sudden hush that fell over the car before Bakugou’s boot landed solidly in the back of his seat, and in his shock and pain, he lost control of the steering. The car skidded over the road- thank god it was deserted- and as he felt someone fall into the back of his seat, he grabbed the wheel and righted them on course. He breathed out hard for a few seconds, hands clamped onto the steering wheel, listening to the gasps of his passengers. Then, once he’d driven straight and smoothly for long enough, he turned to look at Bakugou. He was faintly flushed, glaring at Kirishima, but not a single shred of remorse was present on his face. He held Kirishima’s gaze steelily, waiting for the eventual break. Even against his better judgement, and his feelings of both anger, for the stunt he’d just pulled, and regret, for what he had just said to incite it, he had to admit to himself that Katsuki looked beautiful. However, he had also just almost crashed the car, and Kirishima was inclined to ignore his apparent beauty. 

“Don’t do that again.”

Bakugou didn’t answer, but the tightening of his jaw gave Kirishima all the answers he needed. He turned back around, determined to ignore Bakugou for the rest of the journey. The car lapsed into uncomfortable silence, punctuated by whispers that he was fairly sure was about him. Next to him, he could see Shinsou texting Tokoyami, telling him not to bring up anything related to apples or trees or car accidents. Eventually, the car grew louder, though the atmosphere was slightly more subdued, with Mina and Hagakure doing their best to fill the silence created by their short, bitter argument. However, their excited voices didn’t quite cover the whispered exchange between Todoroki and Bakugou, which read as Todoroki asking Bakugou if he was okay, Bakugou telling him to piss off and then beginning to darkly utter a few choice phrases about Kirishima that he just missed under the music (he didn’t think Katy Perry could ever be that aggravating.) The commentary seemed to be very funny if Todoroki’s slight choking noises were any indication. Kirishima gripped the steering wheel a little harder and drove on.

For the next twenty minutes or so, Kirishima watched the road and listened to the passenger’s muted conversation topics. Their joy seemed to be sucked out of the journey, and now they were planning out their adventure subduedly. It didn’t stop them from being loud, though. Of course, his journey couldn’t be peaceful. Normally, Kirishima was a primary source of high volume and booming laughter, but after the argument (that he’d started. For reasons unbeknownst to the others in the car, which probably meant they thought he was losing it,) he wasn’t in much of a mood for conversation. His mood seeped into the car, infesting the conversation and the general atmosphere, and even Tokoyami was grouchier than usual, despite not being in the car. Bakugou was currently squeezed in between Todoroki and Hagakure, pointedly avoiding him and grumpily sipping his coffee. Hagakure’s unofficial job was to keep an eye on his legs and make sure he didn’t try to inadvertently crash the car again, and Todoroki’s was to silently listen to music with Bakugou (so Kirishima’s music wasn’t good enough, either. Just another thing he fell short of in Bakugou’s eyes.), sharing earbuds but otherwise acting like the other wasn’t there. They were close, in a strange way, one that came from barely talking to each other and yet understanding each other in some strange, innate way. Kirishima wondered if Bakugou ever thought about telling Todoroki about their relationship in their late-night conversations concerning every topic under the sun. He didn’t know what was worse; having him not want to say, pushing their relationship to the side whenever he didn’t feel the need for a warm mouth and kind words, or having him itching every day to tell someone and never doing so, just for Kirishima to say he never cared. 

Eventually, they reached a specific patch of trees that Kirishima pulled into, and soon the doors were opened and everyone was piling out, glad to be free of both the constricting seating plan and the tense atmosphere. Greetings were exchanged with Tokoyami, who began to relay a tale about the vision he’d had while sleeping in the back, and everyone began to pile their supplies into the truck bed. Amongst others, there were night vision goggles (it was starting to get dark already; it hadn’t quite roamed into summer yet, despite what Mina claimed) that were so hideous anyone but Tokoyami would have sworn off, a map, a couple of camcorders to capture the moment, some cans of coffee to curb them over as they explored (Kirishima didn’t think they needed to be anymore caffeinated), some snacks, a few torches and a miniscule cardboard cutout of Taylor Swift, which Mina deemed the most important to their journey. As everyone began to tug on their running shoes; they’d learned from last year that appropriate footwear was a must, both Kirishima and Bakugou abstained. Kirishima because he had no intentions of leaving the car until they returned safely, and Bakugou because he believed he could outrun anything, proper footwear or not. Either way, they were the only ones standing awkwardly upright as everyone else donned running shoes, and Eijirou couldn’t help but sneak a glance. 

He wasn’t looking at Ei, head sharply turned away, but in the sort of way that meant he was distinctly aware of Kirishima staring. He noticed the redhead’s eyes on him, and clenched his jaw, folding his arms as he refused to look at him. Kirishima continued to stare. He didn’t get to look at Bakugou much anymore, and no matter the pain he had caused him, Kirishima still missed him. So he looked. And looked. Until the others stood up, and the spell was broken. 

Mina cleared her throat, summoning the others to where she was wielding the game plan. Though Kirishima technically didn’t have to be there, as he would be bingeing The Office for the next few hours until they came back, he still edged closer.

“Alright. We’ve done this before, we’ve learned from our mistakes, and this will go smoothly. Or, as smoothly as it can go when we’re hunting cryptids. We go in as a group, and we leave as a group. Hopefully. But in the event that we do get split up, use the buddy system. Me and Tokoyami, and Todoroki, Bakugou and Hagakure. Don’t let yourself be alone. We learned from last time. Because last time was terrifying. And we will not be repeating.”

The others looked more than a little subdued. They, strange as they were, had actually enjoyed the adventures of almost 4 months ago. Hard to believe. Kirishima raised his hand, barely believing that he was now taking part in the conversation. Well, he at least wanted to know what was the reason for his friend’s inevitable death.

“What are you hunting again?”

A reverent look came into Tokoyami’s eyes, and the rest of the group grinned, relishing the moment. Even Bakugou.

“Mothman.”

Ah. These people, who would be graduating from university in a few short months, were going after a humanoid moth. Kirishima was genuinely scared for the future of the Japanese workforce.

“Right. Can I ask why?”

“Why not?”

And Kirishima shrugged, leaning against the back of the truck as people started to pull on their bags.

“Oh, I don’t know. In the likely event that it’s not real, you’ll waste a few hours when you could be studying, or doing anything actually worth your time. And if it is, you could die.”

Todoroki made a non-committal noise, studying the map as he answered Kirishima.

“We didn’t die last time. Besides, there haven’t been any murder records from Mothman. Not yet, at least.”

“Oh, that’s not at all comforting.”

Tokoyami glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, silently judging his aversion to man moths.

“You’re not coming. Why does it matter?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t like you guys to die?”

Mina rolled her eyes, securing her camcorder to her wrist via a hot pink frog-patterned strap. 

“Oh, please. We’ll be fine. Now get in the car so you can play Born to Die by Lana del Ray as we walk off.”

Kirishima complied, after wrangling a few promises of safety out of the adventurers, and swung into the car to play the music. The others were just starting to get themselves together and finally set off, before Torodroki slapped a hand to his forehead comically loudly (Kirishima could hear it in the car, even with Lana playing out the open window, and he was pretty sure it had scared a few birds off) and groaned, turning to Bakugou.

“Oh no! I forgot my phone in the car. Could you grab it for me?”

Bakugou gave him a suspicious look, as Kirishima could see as he carefully observed his features, but began to walk back to the car, and Kirishima quickly turned his head to the front of the car, staring determinedly out of the window as his hands tapped the steering wheel. Bakugou opened the door and began to search for the elusive phone, ignoring Kirishima’s existence with all the quiet fury of a lion waiting to pounce. After a few seconds of searching, he called back to them;

“Can’t find it. Can you not go a few hours without it?”

“No! It’s probably really wedged in there. Just get fully in the car, maybe you’ll see it?”

With that, Bakugou huffed disparagingly and hopped into the truck. Kirishima was so focused on not looking at Bakugou, he didn’t see what happened next. He heard the groans of the group at Tororoki’s stilted, slightly too nervous words, and he heard Bakugou’s searching and discontented sighs, but he didn’t hear Hagakure stealthily approaching the car. What he did hear was the unmistakable slamming of the car door, the sound of the doors and windows locking, and the dead silence that followed. For the first time in a very long time, Bakugou and Kirishima exchanged glances that weren’t hostile, so much as warily terrified, and both began to fruitlessly tug on the handles. Well, Kirishima was. Bakugou was banging on the windows and swearing at the others that were slowly starting to gather outside the window.

“Let me the fuck out!”

“Let us the fuck out.”

Kirishima corrected, earning himself a glare from Bakugou as he proceeded to bang on the window.

“I’m sorry!”

Mina called out, anxiously glancing at Kirishima.

“I’m not.”

Hagakure muttered darkly, a sentiment echoed by Tokoyami’s grave nods.

“You guys just really need to make up, and we thought-”

“That locking us both in the car was the best way to make that happen?!”

“Yes, Kiri, because you won’t talk anywhere else, apparently! Get your arguing out now, and then please, please make up because we cannot live like this anymore!”

Simultaneously, Kirishima and Bakugou groaned, then swore. They seemed to be swearing a lot. In their defence, they were locked in a car for who knows how long with their ex.

“I feel like my parents are getting divorced again.”

Said Todoroki glumly, just as Bakugou began to kick the door with as much ferocity as he’d kicked Kirishima’s chair almost an hour ago. Kirishima gasped and tried his hardest to shield the doors with his arms.

“Do you know how much I paid for this car?!”

Bakugou finally tore his gaze away from the car, and glared at Kirishima, actually looking at him for the first time. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you have a better way to get out?”

Kirishima opened his mouth to reply, before Bakugou’s gaze obviously shifted, and Kirishima turned his head to see something that he hadn’t quite registered in the shock of the situation. Right beside him was an open window that he’d been playing the music through. One they’d forgotten to close before they stole his keys and locked the car. Bakugou’s eyes locked on it, and before Kirishima knew it, Bakugou had climbed into the front seat and started to climb over Kirishima. They hadn’t been that physically close in months, and Kirishima completely froze up. 

Bakugou was on top of him, beginning to crawl through the open window as the others outside screamed and yelled about who had the keys. Meanwhile, Kirishima was completely immobile. Katsuki was so close to him he could smell the honey and vanilla shampoo he used, and every slight shift of Katsuki’s legs against his, and when they brushed against his torso, made him forget everything around him, and every detail of their fight, and made him want to wind up the window and begin to viciously make up. Eventually, once Bakugou was halfway out the window and Kirishima was sufficiently flustered, Todoroki produced the keys from some dark crevice of his bag, and as the windows began to roll up, Kirishima had to grab Bakugou by the waist and haul him back into the truck lest he got chopped in half. 

“We’re sorry!”

Cried Mina as they began to back away from the furious Bakugou slamming his fist on the window and yelling expletives after them. She seemed to be the most remorseful of the bunch, but apparently not enough to free them.

“Please talk to each other, but don’t kill each other!”

“This trip was my fucking idea , you soul-sucking, traitorous shit goblins!”

Though it was full of profanity, Kirishima certainly agreed with Bakugou’s statement, which is why he was also shouting phrases filled with rather foul language at the retreating bodies. Well, apart from Mina, who was rapidly approaching them. For one glorious moment, Kirishima almost thought she was going to free them before he heard her question.

“You guys would mind maybe playing the song as we walked, would you?”

They both stared at her for a moment, before Bakugou launched into a tirade of expletives that would have shocked a sailor. Kirishima was inclined to agree. Mina looked like she had expected their answer, so she eyed up their position, and smirked, sauntering off after delivering a comment about enjoying themselves. 

It was only then that Kirishima realised exactly how they were positioned. 

Throughout that entire time after Kirishima had pulled Bakugou back into the car, Katsuki had been straddling him. Katsuki had been straddling him. And he hadn’t even noticed. Now, it was the only thing he could focus on. Neither wanted to be the first to move, be it closer or farther away. Kirishima was horribly aware that he was blushing, and was faintly annoyed by it, on one hand, because Bakugou was cool and calm, acting like he barely even noticed where they were and what they were doing, and on the other, because he was blushing at his ex-boyfriend, who he’d broken up with, that he’d had a horrible argument with only an hour ago, and who he’d spent the last 2 months constantly wishing would just go away and leave Kirishima to his grief, because everywhere Eijrou went, Katsuki seemed to be there, and the feelings of unimportance and of being pushed aside and everything else he’d felt in their fight bubble up again.

Suddenly, Katsuki rocked backwards onto his heels, resting on Kirishima’s knees and looking up at him like this was the last place he could ever possibly want to be, and Kirishima felt the breath leave his lungs. Katsuki made actual, unbarred eye contact, without glaring or frowning, for the first time since it happened, and Kirishima felt his heart thumping out of his chest. 

“What are we supposed to do now?”

Kirishima did not answer straight away, namely due to the fact that he was actually being straddled and that his brain was screaming at him to stop this situation right now, but his heart was begging for him to take back everything he’d said that night, to be content with a lifetime of hiding, as long as he had Bakugou alongside him.

“Stay here, I guess?”

Bakugou raised his eyes heavenward and began to climb off, breaking the spell. Kirishima didn’t know whether to be thankful or not. 

“ Really . Great observation, Einstein.”

“Excuse me for answering your question. You know, if we’re going to be locked in here together, we could at least try to get along?”

No answer. Kirishima turned to see Bakugou staring out a window, purposefully ignoring Kirishima. 

“This isn’t my fault, Bakugou.”

Bakugou still didn’t turn to look at him. Kirishima could see the set of his jaw, that told him Katsuki wouldn’t be talking to him anytime soon, and almost felt like giving up. Almost.

“You can’t be mad at me for the rest of your life. You’ve made mistakes too.”

Bakugou replied coolly, not looking up from his nails.

“We graduate in 3 months. I don’t have to be mad at you any longer than that, because I won’t ever see you again. The second I get that diploma, you’re dead to me.”

Kirishima’s heart dropped into his stomach.

No Bakugou? Nothing?

No matter how long they’d been at odds, he’d never entertained the thought of nothing . Of not going down in the middle of the night to see him studying with a couple discarded cups of coffee. To never again hear him laughing from across the common room. To never again brush past him in the corridors, bumping shoulders. To never again see him, talk to him, watch him in the simplest moments. He wouldn’t just keep going on in an existence without Bakugou. He couldn’t.  

Kirishima looked into the backseat, expecting Katsuki’s head to be turned away, but he was looking right at him, crimson eyes boring into his own. They held the other’s gaze for a few seconds, Kirishima searching for something in Katsuki’s gaze that told him he wasn’t just going to leave him, and Katsuki searching for something else entirely.

Bakugou turned away, breaking his gaze, and ignored Kirishima.

The rain was coming down, hard and fast. Katsuki was walking along the roads, not completely sure where he was going, but just knowing that he wanted to get away from Kirishima. He was shivering horrendously, his whole body spasming with the cold and the wetness, but he’d take this over actually standing still and thinking about what had happened any day. He’d just broken up with the only person that he thought could truly, unconditionally love him. Was he fucking stupid? What had he done? Confined himself to a life of solitude, that’s what. 

Though the memories of their argument were flashing in his mind hard and fast, he couldn’t quite squash down the feeling of anger. And he didn’t quite want to, either. He didn’t want to forget the white-hot feeling of betrayal that had coursed through his veins once Kirishima had told him he was hiding. Throughout their years of friendship and something a little more, Katsuki had never thought that Ei would be the one to say things like that. Never. He’d talked about Katsuki being scared , about him being uncommitting , about him caring more about how he looked online than how the people around him felt. He didn’t get it. Was it so wrong that Bakugou wanted to keep a small semblance of his life to himself? He was trying to protect Kirishima, didn’t he see that? Katsuki had to be so careful about what he shared and what he said because he knew the kind of reach he got, and what kind of trouble that put him in. People had once shown up to a mall he was in because he’d not been ambiguous enough with his tweets, for fucks sake. Maybe Katsuki didn’t want for Kirishima to be flooded by the never-ending river of other people’s opinions on his life. Maybe he wanted to protect Kirishima, and his own privacy, by not saying.

And by not telling their friends? That didn’t make him scared. It made him practical. They were barely twenty, and there were millions of chances that it wouldn’t work out, just like this, And now, there wouldn’t be any awful conversations about why it happened, if they were ok, if they were going to get back together. There would be no picking sides, no awkwardness, no tearing friendships apart over a breakup. Besides, when he’d said that their friends would go to Kirishima, he meant it. It wasn’t a pity measure, just a fact. Kirishima was nicer, easier to get along with than Bakugou. He was positive, and warm, and friendly, and Bakugou had taken 3 months of classes and conversations with Mina before actually saving her phone number in his phone.

But even though Bakugou was wholly, completely convinced that he was right, there was a strange, itching feeling in his chest that told him he was making the wrong decision. That walking away was the wrong decision. That he was about to lose everything he’d never dreamed of having. Katsuki paused in the rain, letting the droplets trickle down his face as he closed his eyes, mentally raising his eyes to the heavens. Was he making a huge mistake? The lightning flashed across the sky, as if to answer his question, and though Katsuki flinched at the lightning, he couldn’t help but listen. He turned around. In the pouring rain, Katsuki thought of EIjirou’s kind red eyes that looked at him like nothing else, his soft, calloused hands that had held his own countless times, and his sparkling, beaming smile, and started to run. 

He ran for himself, to prove that he could really love someone like that and that he would fight for their relationship as hard as he possibly could. He ran for the stupid second years blushing and awkwardly kissing after a snowball fight. He ran for the first years that had no idea what they would be. He ran for the third years that wanted Ei more than life itself. But most of all, he ran for Kirishima Eijirou.

Bakugou rounded the corner, sopping wet and energised with the frenzy of love, and saw two tire marks in the dirt, leading up the road they’d come from. Never, in any possibility Katsuki’s chronically anxious brain could think up, would be that Kirishima had left already. It had barely been five minutes. And he’d left. And Bakugou couldn’t even see his taillights in the distance. Anything was better than this. Kirishima could scream at him till his face was purple and his veins were popping out. He could break up with him. He could run Katsuki over with his car, for all he cared. He would have chosen anything over this. Over being left, stranded in the middle of nowhere in a storm, staring at the tracks in the mud, knowing that it was actually over. That Kirishima had left him, and just like that, the most important relationship of his life had come to an end.

The rain was pouring down his face as he stood, motionless, letting the droplets fall into his wide eyes. He didn’t know how long it took to accept that he’d left, and he wasn’t coming back, and that he’d finally given up on Katsuki. But eventually, when he’d stood there so long he felt as if the mud must be pulling him down, a particularly violent crack of lightning far too close for his liking struck, retrieving him from his stupor. Katsuki blinked red eyes up at the slate clouds as they knitted together in strange, tangled patterns, and made the decision to go on. He walked the way the car seemed to have gone, hoping in some disoriented part of his mind that he would be able to make his way back to Musufastu. The stinging wind hit his bare arms wrapped around himself as he wandered on, barely able to keep his eyes open against the wind. Dimly, he wondered when he’d eaten last. He had been planning to make those pizza pockets with Kirishima over a fire- it seemed stupid, but Ei had always wanted to try it, and Bakugou wanted to see if it would actually work. But everything had happened, and he’d eaten barely anything all day because of the trip, and now he was walking on the verge of collapse in the middle of the road. Bakugou cursed Kirishima Eijirou.

The roads were almost flooded, and the puddles soaked Bakugou’s beaten-up converses as he walked along the tarmac. He didn’t know how long he’d been walking, but all he could hear was the deafening smatter of rain against the road, and the cracks of lightning striking the hills. He couldn’t see a thing in either direction, though that may have been due to the heavy rain falling in his eyes that rendered him practically blind. At this point, he was completely drenched (not that he hadn’t been before) and his hair was plastered to his forehead, along with his clothes. He cursed himself for wearing a t-shirt, and for not seeing this coming. He should have known eventually Kirishima would get sick of the lies and the secrets and go off in search of something better. Bakugou wrapped his arms around his freezing, shivering body, and wished he could lie down and go to sleep on the side of the road and wake up once the rain stopped. 

A light washed over the road in front of him, and just over the thundering rain Bakugou thought he heard the sound of tires on the road. He thought his eyes may be playing tricks on him before it got brighter, and he turned around to see a vehicle. For one beautiful, hopeful moment, he thought Kirishima had come back to get him. Then he saw the sheer size of the truck and realised it was just some stranger driving a delivery truck. His heart sank for a moment, hands still clutched around his trembling body, before he realised what this truck could mean for him. Food. Directions. Fleeting human connection. Dazed, and a little out of it, Bakugou stepped into the road.

Almost immediately, the truck screeched to a halt, the licence plate almost touching him as it finally skidded to a stop. Katsuki blinked at the monster of a car towering over him, and maybe it was just the rain pounding in his head, but he was beginning to feel very light-headed indeed. The driver leaned out of the door, watching him with concerned eyes.

“Hey, kid, you alright?”

“I’m fine”,

He shouted back, clutching himself like he could float away at any moment.

,”Just need directions to Tokyo. Am I going the right way?”

The driver gave him a disbelieving up-and-down glance, trying his hardest to understand why someone would be trying to make it all the way to Tokyo in this storm of biblical proportions.

“Well, yeah, but I’ll take you 6, 7 hours on foot. You need a ride.”

“No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

The truck driver hopped out, worry painted on his face like a mural.

“You can’t seriously think you’re making it all this way alone? Are you meeting someone?”

Bakugou shook his head, and the driver looked despairing.

“I’m going there anyway, just let me drop you off. Free of charge. You’ll catch your death out here.”

Katsuki felt himself beginning to sway and forced himself to keep his eyes open as he answered. He could faintly see the driver edging closer to him, or it may have just been his vision going in and out as he swayed. 

“I don’t need your help.”

“Kid, really-”

Katsuki didn’t hear the rest of his sentence, because his eyes fluttered, and he found himself falling towards the road in a dead faint. Perfect.

The next thing he knew, his eyes were opening, and he was warm. He kept his eyes closed a second longer, thrilling in the comfort the thin blanket brought. He wasn’t exactly warm, but he wasn’t freezing anymore, and that was a plus. He blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the surroundings. He wasn’t on the road anymore, that was for sure. Katsuki sat up, albeit a bit light-headed, and started to stand up, hands clutching at the metal walls for support. Before he knew what was happening, the doors (doors? where was he that had doors?) opened and the  thundering sound of rain once again filled his ears. Bakugou tensed, immediately expecting the police, or worse, his family, but the driver from before raised his hands in surrender, taking a cautious step back into the rain that was still pouring relentlessly down.

“Hey, it’s alright. Not gonna hurt you. Can I come in?”

It seemed like a stupid question to Katsuki, considering that it was his truck, but he gave a non-committal shrug, which the stranger took as a yes, and stepped inside. He ran his hand through damp hair; he was completely soaked- well, both of them were, really, but the driver kept the door open anyway. Maybe he wanted Katsuki to be able to have an escape route, lest he turn out to be a murderer. Bakugou had watched enough horror movies to know that a lonely 20-something-year-old wandering the highway in a storm and waking up locked up in a strange truck wasn’t the best plan for survival. However, he seemed relatively normal, settling on the floor opposite Katsuki, listening to the thundering rain. 

“Here.”

He pushed a bottle of something towards Katsuki, who stared at it impassively. He wasn’t an idiot.

“I don’t want your fucking drugged poison shit.”

The man proceeded to stare at him, not retracting the cup.

“You need some food in you. I don’t have anything on me right now, this was all I could find. Considering your little fainting spell-”

“I didn’t faint-”

“Well, you passed out in the rain, hit your head on the tarmac and I had to drag you into the truck so you wouldn’t drown or be run over. I’d call that a faint. And you’ll do it again if you don’t drink that, so I’d suggest it.”

Katsuki didn’t pick up the cup, or sit down, and the man sighed, dramatically rolling his eyes.

“I don’t bite, you know.”

“I do.”

The stranger laughed, albeit gruffly, and proceeded to sip his own drink. After a few moments of silence, Katsuki slipped down onto the floor and pulled the bottle closer to him, fists still clenched. Cautiously, he inspected the bottle. The seal was unbroken, which seemed promising, but he could never be too sure. He slowly uncapped it and sniffed the contents, trying to decipher if there had been any unseemly tampering. Almost immediately the smell of a juice-slash-energy drink that had often been his go-to in many corner shop trips hit him, and he found himself completely disregarding the idea that it had been drugged, as long as he was drinking it. Besides, he’d passed out. He needed all the strength he could get if he was going to walk to Tokyo.

They sat in silence for a little while, Bakugou waiting for some awful realisation that the man was going to kill him. But he kept the door open; Bakugou was free to leave at any time, even though the rain, and so he stayed, and drank, and waited. He didn’t like waiting much. It made him think about Kirishima. And thinking about Kirishima made him want to run out of the truck and cry and scream and throw up. He didn’t particularly like that feeling.

Eventually, the driver started to stand up, and Bakugou immediately sprung up to meet him, fists clenched, preparing for a fight.

“I’m not going to Tokyo, but I’ll be passing through a place pretty near, and you can get off there, if you want. I’m not going to force you to take a lift from me, but I’d suggest it. Getting pretty rough out there.”

Katsuki blinked slowly, trying to make his brain compute what this guy was saying. Why would he just want to give Bakugou a ride for free? Suspicious. He was obviously a serial killer. Or a pervert.

“Thanks, but no fucking thanks. I’ll take my chances out there.”

He began to step out of the truck, before a thought crossed his mind, and he swivelled, eyeing up the driver cautiously.

“How long are you going to be driving for? And where?”

The driver shrugged, not too bothered by his strange questions, and continued to sip from the plastic bottle.

“It’s a long trip. Driving up and down Japan for about a week delivering shit to some festival shit. Why do you ask?”

Bakugou fidgeted, trying to prepare himself to be let down.

“Can I come with you?”

Now it was the driver’s turn to blink, slowly, staring at Bakugou.

“I don’t have any money, but I can work, and I could sleep in the back of the truck, and I’m strong, I can help-”

“Sure, you can come along. Needed some company anyway.”

Bakugou hesitated for a moment, trying to root out any lingering laughter in the stranger's face, but he remained stony cold. He was serious. Katsuki felt an unbelievable rush of relief, one that didn’t seem completely appropriate considering his very messy, very recent breakup. But he just couldn’t fathom the idea of going back to U.A just yet, and seeing Kirishima, and looking him in the eye. Because Bakugou knew that if he went back, and saw him, it would all be over. He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t. He had to take a little while, to rest and recuperate, so he could walk into that house when he returned, head held high, and look Kirishima in the eyes without wanting to run away. It wasn’t the smartest idea. He knew that. Taking a road trip with a complete stranger, with virtually no way of contacting someone? Risky. Even missing a week of school before exams was risky. (But Bakugou was the best student in his classes. If anyone could catch up, it was him. Besides, missing a week and still making it to the top of the year would annoy Kirishima to no end. Yet another reason to go.) But it was his only option.

They exited the back of the truck, and Katsuki waited as the stranger, and now his glorified uber driver and official distraction closed the doors. The rain was still pouring down, and he once again cursed himself for leaving his jacket in the car. Though, maybe he had had some incredible foresight to leave it behind. He was fairly sure it was Kirishima’s hoodie, and a sniff of his cologne or a brush of the fabric against his cheek might have sent him over the edge. They finally made it inside out of the storm, and the first thing Bakugou did was curl up into the seat and stare out of the window. He didn’t want to look at the driver. He thought that maybe if he looked too long, he might change his mind. So he stared sullenly out of the window, heard the keys turn in the ignition, and the tires began to turn as they drove. 

Far away. Away from Tokyo, and away from Kirishima. 

Bakugou and Kirishima were a lot closer than they would have liked to be. For one, they were in a small space with only each other for company, and nothing else to do. Another, though they’d spent so much time together, their new dynamic paved the way for hurtful words and cruel jibes instead of the comforting domesticity they’d grown to love. All the things about Bakugou that he’d used to love were now tinted with hate. The way he tucked his hair behind his ears. The way he chewed anything and everything when he was stressed, be it pens or fingernails. Right now it was nails, The way he flopped against Kirishima’s seats like he owned the car. The way he crinkled his eyebrows when Kirishima made a sound that was just too loud for him to accept. The way he was incessantly zipping and unzipping something, and everytime he made a sound Kirishima wanted to rip his own ears off.

Eventually Kirishima looked behind the seat, even though he’d been promising himself that he wouldn’t look at Katsuki, no matter what, and almost smiled to see the sight behind him.

“You really brought that?”

Katsuki finally turned his head away from the bumblebee patterned makeup bag that he had been unzipping to glare at Kirishima.

“You got a problem?”

His voice came out hostile, the tone practically the opposite of those days they’d spent together curled up in Kirishima’s bed. Kirishima tried his hardest to diffuse the situation, forcing some neutrality into his voice. Despite what Bakugou may think, he actually didn’t want to spend the next few hours arguing with him.

“You have a codependent relationship with that thing.”

Bakugou shot back quickly, not seeming to realise that Kirishima was actually trying to joke . DId everything have to be a fight with him?

“Funny. I seem to remember someone who was so attached to someone they couldn’t handle it when they didn’t want the same thing all the time, and couldn’t fathom that they didn’t share a consciousness or the same experiences.”

“Do you ever wonder who you’d be under all the makeup?”

He regretted the words as soon as he said it; which he’d been doing a lot lately. Sometimes Kirishima thought that Bakugou just brought out the worst in him. Bakugou tensed, and fired right back at him. It was a warzone. He didn’t have time for regret. He didn’t have time to wonder about the gorges in their relationship, suddenly sprung from cracks, and growing deeper by the second.

“Do you ever wonder who you’d be if you weren’t such a dick?”

Kirishima could almost laugh.

“I’m the dick?!”

“Yes. You are. Only you’re the kind of dick that doesn’t acknowledge it, which makes it so much fucking worse. At least I have that decency.”

Bakugou dug his nails into his palm, and shut up. Kirishima turned back around, and placed his hands on the wheel, drumming his fingers quietly. He didn’t like being mean to Katsuki. He didn’t. Really, he didn’t. Everything he said left a sour taste in his mouth that only Bakugou’s lips could wash off, and he would never taste that again. He didn’t like how his first instinct was to search for something that cut the deepest, that would sting the sharpest. He hated Bakugou’s face whenever he said something he couldn’t take back. He hated it. 

And he didn’t want to graduate, and leave Bakugou without telling him that he didn’t want to say these things.

“I didn’t mean that. And I didn’t mean what I said. About your mum.”

The car was quiet, for a few moments, before Bakugou muttered back to him, slightly subdued.

“I know.”

They were silent for a little while after that. 

They just sat with each other in the car, Kirishima faintly comforted by the sounds of Bakugou flipping through different products in his bag. They weren't exactly existing happily; Kirishima was still angry, very angry, but he didn’t want to fight, and for now, just existing was enough. So they just existed.

Suddenly, Bakugou’s phone buzzed, and he picked it up. He sat up a little straighter, and his mouth opened, as if to gasp, but no sound came out. To the average bystander, it could have meant nothing. Kirishima was not the average bystander. Kirishima knew Bakugou inside and out, good and bad, by day and by night. He knew when something was wrong.

“What? Is it them?”

For one glorious, hopeful moment, he had thought that they were coming back, guilt-ridden enough to free them. But Bakugou rubbed a tired hand over his eyes, still clenching his phone in his palms.

“No, I- work thing. None of your business.”

He was oddly still, and his head was ducked as he stared at the blacked-out screen. It didn’t look like good news, whatever it was. Kirishima was definitely looking longer than he should have, especially considering that they were still technically fighting, and Bakugou noticed, snapping his head round and glaring at Kirishima with red eyes that he didn’t think would ever stop being ingrained in his mind.

“Stop looking at me.”

“Just trying to help.”

Kirishima was trying his hardest to stop a certain tone creeping into his voice, but it was so hard. Why did Bakugou have to try and fight him on absolutely everything?! Kirishima didn’t know why, that’s for sure.

“Well, you can’t.”

Bakugou was staring straight ahead; Kirishima noticed he did that a lot when they were talking about something he didn’t want to talk about. Any other argument, he was fine with piercing eye contact and staring at someone for hours on end. But the moment he didn’t like the topic, it was like the other person didn’t even exist to him. 

“Why? What’s going on?”

Bakugou raised his head up, staring at the rood of the car as he clenched his fists.

“I need to make a down payment for my place next year, but I’m fucking broke , mainly because I havn’t posted anything in two months or shown up to work and I’ve been buying way too much coffee, and a fucking french press machine on a drunken whim, and apparently there is another dickhead interested in the apartment so I need to scrounge up the money in like, forty-eight hours. Which is impossible. So I’m going to be homeless next year, basically. Fuck .”

Kirishima bit his lip, wishing he hadn’t asked. Well, he didn’t wish he hadn’t asked, exactly; he was glad that he was reaching out to Bakugou, and he was glad they were actually talking- even though it was admittedly one of the happiest of subjects. But Bakugou was obviously a little shaken by this sudden development, and no matter their differences, he didn’t like to see him upset.

“Oh.”

Bakugou seemed to find that funny- or incredibly aggravating, he couldn’t tell the difference. 

“Yeah, fucking oh .”

The car was ominously silent, unspoken words floating between the two, and Kirishima almost wished for the chaos of the pounding music long ago.

“Why haven't you posted anything?”

“Been a bit preoccupied, Eijirou. Sort of, I don’t know, grieving the most important relationship I’ve ever had? You’re not the only one that got totally screwed over here.”

Real, raw hurt was coming through in Bakugou’s voice, and Kirishima almost wanted to turn away and let him suffer alone. Almost. There was still a part of him that just couldn’t leave, and there was another part that couldn’t fathom allowing Bakugou even the slightest bit of leeway, and they coincided in the worst way possible.

“Just didn’t seem like you cared that much. You don’t act like you do, anyway.”

Bakugou whipped his head around, staring at Kirishima with something that almost looked like betrayal.

“You think I don’t care?”

Kirishima swallowed, and he found that he had absolutely no idea on what to say. Bakugou didn’t care. Did he? He’d made it perfectly clear, in how he’d brushed past Kirishima all those times, and simply refused to talk about anything relating to Kirishima or that road trip, and in how he acted like nothing had happened. He’d never said it out loud, though. He’d never actually confirmed it. Kirishima had just filled in the blanks. But when Kirishima saw the way Bakugou was looking at him, no one could deny he cared. He swallowed again, and looked away, unable to handle looking into Bakugou’s eyes anymore.

“Ok, well, post one now then.You have makeup here, might as well.”

“No. You’re here.”

He shut the idea down quickly, but that didn’t stop Kirishima from trying. It was a perfectly reasonable idea, and for some reason, Kirishima didn’t particularly like the idea of Bakugou having nothing to do and nowhere to go next year. And, though it really wasn’t relevant to why he said it, or pertinent to the conversation at all, Kirishima missed hearing Bakugou’s voice when he wasn’t angry. And even if it wasn’t directed at him, hearing Bakugou happy and content wasn’t something he would object to hearing. 

“So? Never stopped you before.”

Kirishima definitely heard the unspoken it’s different now, you broke up with me because of these very videos and left me in a thunderstorm.

“This doesn’t concern you. It’s personal shit. This is my stuff.”

“I won’t look. I’ll put headphones in. I’m not actually that interested in this video, you know.”

Bakugou didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t put away his makeup either, which meant that he was considering it. Which Kirishima counted as a win.

“No, by all means, go homeless. I’ll be fine either way.”

Bakugou frowned at him, crinkling his brow in a way that Kirishima regrettably found adorable.

“Why do you care, anyway? How does this affect you?”

“Doesn’t have to affect me. Maybe I’m just a nice person.”

Bakugou raised an eyebrow, and Kirishima fought the urge to groan. Having a sort-of enemy that knew absolutely everything about you wasn’t the best combination.

“Maybe because I was your boyfriend for two years and I don’t like the idea of you being forced to room with a bunch of perverts and convicts.”

Kirishima had turned back around, looking into the rearview mirror where he could see Bakugou beginning to unwittingly smile. It was a nice smile. He’d missed it. 

“Maybe I want to room with perverts and convicts. Every think of that?”

For the first time in quite a while, Bakugou was talking to Kirishima, and there was no veiled hostility in his tone. He was being nice. He was teasing Kirishima. He was acting like nothing had happened.

Kirishima threw up his hands in mock aggrievement, unable to stop a smirk crossing his face.

“Right, so you’ll share an apartment with a murder, but the second I leave a towel on your bed I’m banned from your room for 3 weeks. That’s fair.”

Bakugou’s smile widened, practically grinning at this point (which he would have stopped immediately, if he knew about it), but it didn’t stop him from answering back snarkily.

“It’s fucking disgusting, is what it is. And you laid it out on the whole of the bed! Everything was dripping and stunk like you and your awful strawberry body wash!”

“I don’t think 3 weeks was an appropriate ban. I’m only a man, Katsuki. 3 week sex ban is like putting me on death row.”

“That’s not very nice, considering my new roommates. You’ll hurt their feelings.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

An explosive laugh escaped from Bakugou, and Kirishima turned around, half incredulous that Bakugou was actually laughing with him, half caught up in the moment and half just wanting to see Bakugou laugh. That didn’t make a whole, but nothing really made sense with Katsuki anymore. Suddenly, Bakugou seemed to remember who he was laughing with, and sobered up, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to choke down his smile.

“Put your headphones in.”

Kirishima turned back to the front, allowing his smile to take over his features like a ray of sunlight.

“Whatever you say.”

Bakugou was letting the moon shine on his face as he leant against the truck. He didn’t have much else left to do there, and for now he could just wait until he found something to momentarily distract him. Smoke was curling through his fingers, one wispy strand at a time, and the threads were rising into the night sky. He didn’t actually smoke; he’d indulged a few times at parties or on cold nights when there was nothing better to do, but he normally wouldn’t dream of it. But in a place like this, there wasn’t much else to do, especially for someone like him.

He’d been following the driver around for about a week now, he expected; he hadn’t bothered to charge his phone, and right now it was lying abandoned in the glove compartment of the truck. But there had been enough moonlight vigils to make a fair assumption. They’d been delivering some setup for some travelling festival, that seemed to be a big deal if the hordes of people that wouldn’t leave him alone were any indication. If they wern’t yelling at him for placing a speaker wrong or a booth right where they wanted to piss, they were hanging around him in a hazy stupor asking him about his astrology signs. If there was one thing he now knew about people who frequented a festival like this, it was that they seemed to be obsessed with grumpy college students currently going through a messy breakup and a penchant for nicking mascara from merch stands.

It wasn’t that he hated the company. The people themselves weren't actually too bad- he might have actually wanted to go to something like this. It was his kind of music, his kind of people, his kind of distraction. Docs trampling through mud to get to a show, people braiding barbed wire into the signposts for the festival, thumping music and people screaming wherever you turned, being invited to snort a line off of someone’s car keys, an argument breaking out every five minutes, everything just screamed him. And the people weren't horrible. They were better than he’d expected, all things considered. They didn’t bother him once he’d snuck off to listen to music on the old ipod nano he’d found in the back of the truck, they didn’t ask too many questions about what brought him here, and they didn’t make assumptions about his feelings about his relationship based on what he told other people. That made them better than the last person he’d spent time with. And they didn’t make him learn their names. He could just grunt noncommittally at them, which was his favourite way to communicate.

He hadn’t learnt the driver’s name either, which he sort of felt bad about. The man had been driving him around for a week and putting up with his dramatics and anger and god knows that else, and Katsuki hadn’t even bothered to learn his name. Maybe because learning his name could incite connection,, and he didn’t want to lose anymore people. Maybe because remembering his name would mean every time he heard it, he would remember being out there, cold, stuck in the rain in the middle of nowhere, waiting for a boyfriend who would never come back. In his defence, the driver had never told him his name. And he’d never asked for his name, either. Maybe he felt the same as Bakugou. 

Bakugou shuffled against the cracked paint of the truck, trying to settle amongst the rust and grime. His music was playing loud enough to drown out the show blaring out a little way over, but it couldn’t drown out the footsteps approaching. The driver shuffled over to him, and held out his hand for the pack of cigarettes.

“Those aren't good for you.”

Bakugou scoffed, but handed them over. They weren't his, anyway.

“No shit.”

The driver, as Bakugou was accustomed to calling him in his head, gave him a shrewd look, lighting his own cigarette as he spoke. 

“How old did you say you were again?”

“Twenty one. What’s it to you?”

He almost laughed then, shaking his head as he took a drag.

“Too young for this shit.”

Katsuki frowned, slightly aggrieved. He knew exactly what he was getting into with this, and it was just what he’d needed.

“Fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“Twenty one year olds shouldn’t be wandering around, coked-up and completely broke, at a festival halfway across the country from where they live with a total stranger.”

Well, that wasn’t completely fair. Katsuki wasn’t completely broke. He’d made at least fifteen dollars from people who thought he was a parking attendant. 

“Forty five year olds shouldn’t be telling twenty one year olds how to live their lives.”

“You think I’m forty five?”

There was a faintly injured tone in the man’s voice, covered up by a gruff cough.

“Don’t you have better things to do than this? College, maybe?”

Bakugou scoffed, taking another drag.

“I could skip school until the day of final exams and I’d still beat every fucker in that place.”

“Bold claim. Maybe you should back it up and go back to school.”

“I thought you said I could stay as long as I worked.”

He said, frowning at the driver as he watched spirals of smoke drift through the air.

“I said that when I assumed you were a lost spring-breaker with no prospects and no future. You’re not that. You’re a dumb fucking teenager, but you have a future. And hiding from some boy back home and how you feel about him could wreck that for you, because you’re going to try and hide until you get over it, and that could never happen. You can’t speed up healing. You can’t get over a relationship like that in a week, so you need to go back home, feel that pain, and not try to dim it with music and drugs and sarcasm. Because if you don’t go back home and stop avoiding your problems, you’ll be trying to outrun them your whole life. And trust me, kid, you don’t want that.”

The driver blew a cloud of smoke into the air through his teeth, and refused to make another sound. Bakugou turned back to staring out at the festival, mulling over his words.

Bakugou was fully aware that he was running from his problems. He was fully aware that he was hiding away in work and music and errands and drugs and watching people’s adventures. It wasn’t that hard to spot. Really. But he was strategically running. He was pacing it like a marathon; start off strong, and let it just come to you. But you can’t be watching other people at the beginning, as you get used to it and stumble and want to give up. You have to work through the tough stuff first, then once you get to the hard shit, you know what you’ve done, and how far you have to go. He knew he wasn’t going to heal from this straight away. No one could. But he could damn well get the going off the rails batshit crazy part of the post-breakup done now, so people couldn’t look at him when he got back and know that the breakup hit him just as hard as it did. He wanted to walk past Kirishima, and keep his head held high, and not feel his heart twist into knots in his stomach. He wanted to be able to look him in the eyes without breaking down. Bakugou took a deep breath, and another drag, hearing wind whistle through his teeth.

“I’ll stay a little longer. Then I’ll think about it. Unless you’re that desperate to get rid of me.”

He stole a glance at the driver, searching for confirmation, but his lips quirked up, and Katsuki couldn’t help but feel relieved.

“Quite the opposite. I’ve never had an employee that works as hard as you do. I’ve also never had an employee that insults my music taste, argues with me about every topic under the sun, steals my cigarettes, accuses me of being a kidnapper, or disrespects me at every opportunity, but I’ll live.”

“All your other employees sound fucking boring.”

“I’ve never had another employee.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

The driver ducked his head, sharp grin swiftly taking over his predominantly blank mask, and Katsuki couldn’t help but smile too.

“I’m going to miss my favourite employee, you know.”

Katsuki smirked, resting his head against the truck.

“I’ve heard the elderly get sentimental, but I’ve never seen it before.”

The driver clipped him around the ear, still smiling, and for the first time in  while, all his thoughts weren’t eclipsed by Kirishima Eijirou.

And that night, when they both climbed into the truck, as they’d done for a week and a half, both staring out through the windshield, listening to something slow and sad, Bakugou really thought he would go back. 

Bakugou cleared his throat, which Kirishima could hear, even through his headphones. He was blaring music through them, which Bakugou had demanded, but he wasn’t exactly paying attention. He was watching Bakugou through the rearview mirror, avoiding his eyes every time Bakugou looked back. Kirishima could see as Bakugou set his camera up in what seemed like a million different positions, and then shifted around another million times, fixed his hair, put on a hoodie, moved the camera, took off the hoodie, checked that Kirishima wasn’t listening, fixed his hair, applied vaseline, almost screamed of frustration, and then finally seemed to be ready to start. 

Right now, Katsuki’s hands were skittting around nervously trying to find something to distract them, and they were coming up empty. He was whispering something to himself that Kirishima couldn’t quite hear over Taylor Swift’s 1989, but it seemed like he was trying to convince himself of something. If Kirishima didn’t know any better, he would say that Bakugou was nervous. He popped out an earphone and spoke, noting how Bakugou almost jumped out of his skin when he heard him.

“What’s the hold up?”

Katsuki glared at him with familiar fire in his scarlet eyes, trying to disguise his spiking heart rate.

“None of your motherfucking business.”

Ah. Right. Kirishima had forgotten they were arguing. He turned back around, a hint of bitterness in his tone when he next spoke.

“Excuse me for being worried.”

Bakugou threw down his mascara, looking almost glad for an excuse for filming to be delayed.

“Oh, I’m sorry Eijirou, why don’t you do this? You film a video that could potentially make or break your whole 10-year plan by making you unexpectedly homeless, after not posting or checking socials for 2 months and no doubt having like, a million assholes in your comments asking where you were, and you don;t even know if you can do this shit anymore, and- You know what, you try it. See if it’s easy for you.”

The car went silent, as it was wont to do after one of Bakugou’s outbursts, and Katsuki curled in on himself, evidently done with the conversation. Kirishima turned back to the steering wheel, faintly disgruntled.

“Never said it was easy. Where did you even get that from?”

Bakugou scoffed darkly, folding his arms even tighter.

“Put your fucking headphones in and shut the fuck up.”

And he did.

For a little while, at least.

Once Bakugou seemed to work up the courage to start the video, Kirishima paused the music, and began to listen to the comforting tones of Katsuki’s voice. He wasn’t using his phone this time, but his real camera, that was going to be used to shoot photos of whatever they found, which meant that he couldn’t see himself, and more importantly, couldn’t see Kirishima sneaking glances into the mirror to watch him. Katsuki took a deep breath, and hit a button on the camera.

“Welcome the fuck back.”

His voice sounded steady, and it would have to most others, but Kirishima knew him. He was nervous.

“Now, let's get this done right off the bat. If I see a single one of you freaks pestering me about where I’ve been, I will literally come to your house and blend your skull into dust and feel it to your saggy ass skull-less face. No doubt some of you assholes will anyway, because you have nothing better to do than piss off college students who do makeup looks, but I might as well warn you. Anyway.”

Bakugou reached for his bag, and Kirishima could see his hands shaking.

“Let’s get the fuck into this. You’re getting another car video, because my asshole housemates locked me in, but this one isn’t moving, so it should be less of a pain in my ass. If you saw the last video you know that putting some shitty ass plastic gems on your face in a moving car is not a small feat. I mean, I did it fucking flawlessly, because I’m cool as shit, but not everyone can be as obviously talented as me.”

Bakugou began to experimentally dab something that looked like primer (Bakugou really was rubbing off on him; the thought made him almost smile at first, until he remembered that the only person he’d really want to say that to was the person he was trying his hardest to hate.) over his face, and rub it in as he talked. 

His voice was smooth, and steady, the very picture of confidence, but Kirishima could see how his hands shook once they left the frame.

“So, I’m pretty sure this primer is some Mt Lady x Kylie collaboration, and honestly I don’t care for Kylie Cosmetics mainly because Khloe is my favourite Kardashian, but this is pretty good. I did get it for free though, which is a plus. I can’t remember the last time I did a whole makeup line reveiw, I should probably do that soon. Anyway, Mt Lady sends me products she wants me to try with like, whole death threats if I don’t answer her, so here, you crazy blonde bitch! Here you go! I’m trying it!”

He brandished the bottle viciously at the camera, before setting it down and swapping it with a different, darker bottle. Kirishima still didn’t really have the hang of all the product names.

“My official review; not as good as her solo primer, because the Mt Lady elevated primer is like, the best thing I’ve ever tried, but it’s still pretty good, applies nicely, good texture, the works. Give it a solid 7/10. Don’t come into my dms and flame me for this review because I’ll actually show up at your house, you screaming fake blonde shit goblin. Anyway, I’m not going to go through putting foundation on because I’m hoping that some of you are at least mildly competent. I’m not putting much on, because it’s almost summer, and my skin thrives in summer. Well, my skin thrives all year round, but you get my gist. Did you know my classmates found out about this channel just because of how good my skin is? I mean, I’ve heard the story like 12 times from a million different people, but overall I believe someone was complaining about how amazing my skin is- thank you, by the way- and someone else, who’s a snitch and a freak, was like “oh, he takes good care of his skin because of his makeup channel and everything”. Loser. Also, it’s not just because of this. I just happen to like looking hot.”

Bakugou, having finished blending with a very beaten-up blender, plucked up another tube. Sometimes Kirishima felt sorry for the people watching these videos, because of the sheer speed he was going through the steps at. Well, he was competent and efficient, and he probably expected everyone else to be just as good, or adept at pressing the pause button. He was ruthless in every aspect of his life, work, relationships and anything else under the sun, and Kirishima actually respected that.

“You fuckers are actually lucky, because I don’t actually need concealer, or foundation, depending on the look, but normally I don’t need concealer, but I put it on anyway just to help you sorry losers. But, luckily enough for you, that means I get to experiment with concealer for your benefit. So, conceal under the eyebrow, because I’m always right and this is going to turn out amazingly, Do it. I can tell if you don’t and you do it somewhere else. I always know. I have cameras on every fucking one of you. Put that motherfucking concealer under your motherfucking eyebrows or I’m going to pluck every little bit of eyebrow and surgically reattach that hair to your teeth in a way that your only choices are going around toothless or having hairy teeth.” 

Katsuki issued threats like he breathed; constantly breathing violence and venom from a pair of lips you’ve never expected it from.

“I actually rediscovered my love for contour because i recently realised how fucking good my cheekbones actually are. It’s like, every fucking day i discover how goddamn good looking I am.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

“God, I love being single. I can just go out and do whatever the fuck I want, looking like this , and people just fall at my feet. But anyway, I’m not using contour, I’m using bronzer. You don’t have to do it. but I’m swearing by this right now, and it’s great, so if you don’t believe me, it’s your funeral.”

Kirishima almost jolted in his seat at his words, and though Bakugou didn’t notice, completely absorbed in putting on makeshift contour, Kirishima still had to take a moment to let the words sink in. Single. He hadn’t quite thought about that yet. He hadn’t really thought he was single. He knew that he and Bakugou had broken up, and that he didn’t have a boyfriend anymore, but he hadn’t quite registered that he was single yet. What was a single person supposed to do, after being in a relationship that made him feel so much he couldn’t really imagine being out of it? He assumed he was supposed to cope, or something. Get over it. Find someone new. Visit a club, strike up a conversation, take him home. Forget about Bakugou. Move on.

Kirishima didn’t want to do that.

Another few words made him stop and think; what did he mean, by doing whatever he wanted? Had Bakugou already moved on? Was Kirishima just stuck here, destined to watch as Bakugou made out with strangers at parties and spent the night in someone else's room, watching as he moved on when Kirishima didn’t think he ever could. The worst thing that could happen, Kirishima thought, was Bakugou telling people. Because that would tell him that while Bakugou was completely open to telling people, Kirishima just wasn’t worth it.

“So, I’ve put my bronzer just under my cheekbones, and on my nose to contour,- for those of you that arn’t looking at the actual video- first of all, that’s fucking stupid, but it has this weird little thing on the bottom and top of the most sticky-out bit of the nose, and; fuck, I don’t know, I’m not an anatomist, and now we blend. I feel like I spend half my fucking life blending. This blender has been through some shit. I really need a new one, but I’m scared I’ll never find one that blends that well again. I know I’m going fast through this, but doing bases can be so fucking boring sometimes, and also, if you’re not as good as me, just pause it and catch up. I have to hurry because hopefully soon I get out of this stupid fucking truck and get to go hunt cryptids like I wanted to in the first place, but was tricked out of.”

Kirishima didn’t exactly think they were getting out of the truck anytime soon, but he applauded his positive attitude.

“Anyway, onto blush. I think this is… ah, yeah it’s Rare Beauty I don’t use this much but I got myself a new blush recently because I did well in my chemistry paper, and by well I mean I fucking crushed it, and I figured why not. I actually don’t know where I stand in the drama, because on one hand, I loved Selena Gomez in Wizards of Waverly Place growing up, and Rare Beauty is really good, and I also despise Justin Beiber, and it’s really funny whenever Hailey Beiber gets ignored by paparazzi, but I’ve also been kind of bored recently and I was thinking that I would tweet something controversial like I support bullying or I think that Lana del Ray went back in time and wrote the Bible or I’m a flat earther or I support Hailey Beiber. You know, just to feel something.”

“Then, Bakugou clicked open a case of something, and Kirishima was immediately transported back into that trip he wished he’d never taken.

“I used to hate highlighter. And I mean, really hate it. I would avoid it like the fucking plague. Well, when I was younger it was eyeliner and mascara and nothing else. I was an edgy little sixteen year old, but I did look good. But, you know, as I got older I tried out new things, but for some reason I hated highlighter. Probably because it was sparkly and I liked being edgy. But now, I really don’t know why I hated it for so long. I mean, it draws attention to your face. And I love attention. So, I now swear by highlighter, Specifically the Present Mic flashy ass gold one. I thrive in gold. But I don’t have that, because I ran out a while ago and all my local stores are out, but I have the All Might one, which is acceptable, I guess. I used to be a huge All Might fan, actually, but then I grew up and got a bit emo and also realised that All Might is kind of basic, and also not a dilf, he’s just sort of old and has fatherly energy about him. Anyway, what I’m going here is putting this sort of caramel highlight on my nose and under my eyebrows, as so, and now on my cheekbones.”

Kirishima could vaguely remember this step of the process, mainly because he always got distracted by the sparkles, so he continued to watch the scene unfolding through the mirror. He hadn’t thought someone's side profile could be beautiful before, but everytime he looked at Bakugou he found a new thing worth looking at.

“And… The base is officially done. My eyes look a little naked without eyeliner, but we can fix that. Speaking of eyeliner, I’m not doing a proper one today. I know, shock, horror, prayers. It’s strange. But I’m experimenting, and also I lost my precious All for One Russian murder eyeliner, and I don’t want to open a new box, and I’ve become too attached to it to switch to a different one. I mean, I could use pencil, because that doesn’t count as the same type, but I don’t have brown eyeliner pencil on me, so here we go.”

“I am putting brown eyeshadow on my crease, which seems to move every fucking time I do eye makeup. This brush is old as hell, but it applies really well. The eyeshadow is from the Miruko range, by the way. Some of you assholes like to scream at me in the comment sections because I can’t be arsed to say product names, so fuck you all, I live in you walls. Just blow it out a little, make sure it’s not in one single line. This eyeshadow is actually godly; Miruko to eyeshadow is what Hawks is to concealer is what Mt. Lady is to primer. That’s why we’re all the best. Then get a darker brown; if you’re not using brown, you’re an idiot, but if you’re trying to be a free thinker or some shit, just use a darker shade. There are no free thinkers on my channel. This is a dictatorship. Bow down to me, fuckers.”

Bakugou grinned broadly, no doubt thinking about his imminent overtake of human civilization, and Kirishima was momentarily breathless. 

“Put the darker brown right on the end of your eye, blend a little, and you should be looking like this.”

Kirishima didn’t think anyone could truly look like Bakugou, not really. Not like him. Bakugou was something different entirely.

“Take the dark brown you were using, put that shit right under the outside bit of your eye. Like, right below where you would do waterline eyeliner. This shade is actually called “roundhouse vibrations”, which is… accurate. Then, take the silver, which is called “stars of the city”- oh, that’s not too bad. Normally eyeshadow names are the most basic shit ever, or actually vile- and put that all on your eye. All the fucking glitter.”

“This is the Hawks concealer, which is my favourite concealer ever, even though the guy who makes it is a massive slut. Someone should tell that fucker that 2016 was 7 years ago and his sense of fashion is desperately out of date. I’m seeing him in like, 2 months, though, so maybe I’ll just tell him myself. That is, if they let him on the plane. Personally, I wouldn’t, but that’s just me. Anyway, put the concealer in the corner of your eye, like so. When I next see Keigo I’m actually gonna mug him for some more of this shit because when I don’t have this concealer I turn into an actual demon. Well, no more so than usual, but it’s bad. It’s like that snick- unnamed chocolate bar advert, because I am not getting sued for unpaid product placement, but anyway that advert, where they’re like “you’re not you when you’re hungry”, except it’s “I’m a mythic bitch when I don’t have Hawks concealer”. I don’t want money or cars, I want a fucking unlimited supply of Hawks concealer. In the incredibly unlikely event that I ever make my own range, I’ll actually just copy the formula of this because nothing in the world will ever top this. Well, I probably could, if I worked really really hard, but I’m not going to, because Hawks concealer is top-tier and I will never be changing. He’s probably watching this and blushing, that egotistical maniac. See you this summer, asshole!”

Kirishima winced, knowing that now that they’d broken up his summer schedule would probably be much more free to do cool makeup things. Before, summer had been their time, away from school and other people, free to do whatever they wanted. Now? Kirishima’s schedule was looking bleaker by the day, while Bakugou obviously couldn’t wait to forget about Kirishima.

“Then pack some more silver on top of that. You should look really blinged-out, like someone crushed a bunch of glass and put it all over your eyes, but like, in a sexy way. Right, this next bit is going to seem strange, but I’m gonna need you all to trust me. Or don’t. I don’t care. But if you don’t, I’m gonna look better than you. Well, I always do, but this time it would be to a higher degree. What you need to do is get a bit more brown eyeshadow, and make an eyeliner wing. Make sure it’s long enough for you to see it clearly. We don’t do that baby wing shit on this channel.”

Bakugou eyed up his reflection in the window, checking for any nonexistent imperfections. He didn’t carry a mirror in his makeup bag, which Kirishima thought was not only a little dumb, but extraordinarily out of character for someone as ungodly vain as Bakugou Katsuki.

“Almost done. You know what, you’re all lucky bastards because you can play music while you do makeup, and if I’m filming, I can’t. I’m talking to myself in dead silence here. It’s embarrassing as hell. Though, when I am going out, it’s Lana or Childish Gambino, sometimes Gaga, sometimes I get some Eminem or Fiona Apple on there too. My getting ready playlist is unmatched. I know a guy who listens to Mitski when he gets ready. Can you imagine? Fucking weirdo. Though I do also know a guy who listens to the My Little Pony soundtrack while getting ready, so… I think that there should be a healthy middle. Anyway, moving on, mascara. My one true love. I haven't found a truly faultless one yet though, so I guess I’ll just have to keep buying more until I find a perfect one. My bank account hates me. I still can’t believe that after buying literally 50 different mascaras and testing them all out I couldn’t find a single 10/10 mascara. It’s a hate crime, is what it fucking is. I don’t think I need to walk you through mascara. If you’re watching this video and you don’t know how to put on mascara, get help. Actual, psychological help.”

Bakugou narrowed his eyes slightly, delicately placing the brown mascara on his lashes.

“My best talent is being able to put on mascara without looking like a deformed duck. And talking while doing it. I do mascara and eyeliner so much I could get hit by a truck mid-application, and it would still be flawless. And… That should be eye makeup done! Finishing touches now.”

Bakugou rooted around in his bag, eventually producing what looked like a very worn out bullet casing.

“This is tinted lip balm, and I believe it is cherry flavoured. I love cherry flavoured shit. It just fills a hole in me that no other artificial flavour does. So, what you’re going to do is get a really thin brush, and put it in the lip balm, and just basically use it as lip liner. It’s going to work, trust me. And, I know that overlining is in right now, but I’m just gonna follow the actual shape of my lips. I can’t talk during this, so enjoy a brief reprieve of my voice. Use it as an opportunity for you slow fuckers to catch up.”

Bakugou dipped his brush in, and started to work on his lips, and Kirishima took the opportunity to stare at him a little longer. He looked good. Annoyingly good, actually. It wasn’t fair that Bakugou got to bounce back from his two-week off-the-grid field trip looking like nothing had happened, while Kirishima had spent the first month rotting in bed in the dark. Kirishima knew that Bakugou was adamant about caring, or whatever, but it was hard to believe that when he was practically glowing without Kirishima. 

“That’s adequate. I saw someone do this a few days ago, so I’ll try it. Put a little bit of concealer in the corner; just a little, right in the corner, not too much. I don’t know what the fuck this does, but I’ll try it. Besides, it gives me another opportunity to use the Hawks concealer. Jesus fucking christ, at this point this motherfucker should pay me for promotion. Anyway, I have this roll-on glossy lipgloss thing, and I don’t know where I got it from, so don’t fucking ask. This shit is ancient. But, you know, it works, and it tastes nice. It’s grave flavoured. My lips taste like a fucking fruit salad.”

Bakugou checked himself out in the car window again, searching for anything to correct, and Kirishima craned his head to see the finished look.

“And I believe… I am finished! I look hot as fuck, and hopefully, so do you. If you look good, like and subscribe, ‘cause I need that cash. If you look like a flaming pile of shit, do it anyway, and remember that I’m not legally held liable for your incompetence. Also, own being a hot mess. My next video should be on a more normal schedule, so goodbye and good luck on future cosmetic-related endeavours.”

Bakugou clicked the stop button, and the red light on the camera disappeared. He ran a hand through his hair, careful not to smudge his makeup, and when he glanced at Kirishima, he wasn’t quite fast enough to whip around unassumingly. Instead, like the idiot he was, he stayed, staring at Bakugou like he was the fucking sun.

Bakugou jerked his head fully backwards to stare at him, cheeks suddenly flushed as he turned back to the front, eyebrows furrowed. 

“You weren't supposed to be watching.”

“I know.”

Bakugou bit down a cutting response, instead choosing to lean back onto the door, and to Kirishima’s chagrin, he almost missed Bakugou’s strangely worded insults and harsh sarcasm, because at least he got to hear his voice. So he spoke again. Just to hear him again.

“You were great, by the way. There's nothing to be worried about.”

And Katsuki wilted, huddling back into his little space against the door, right behind Kirishima so he couldn’t look.

“Don’t be nice to me. It makes it so much fucking harder when you’re nice to me.”

“Makes what harder?”

Kirishima’s words came out husky, a sudden squeezing on his heart clutching at his words and drawing the air from his lungs. He didn’t want to be making things harder for Bakugou. He hated this, the fighting, the looks he would get from the red eyes that he’d always sworn to protect. 

Bakugou bit the inside of his cheeks, staring down at his shoes.

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?”

Kirishima’s voice wavered, and predictably, Bakugou exploded. 

“Fucking this! Stop being nice to me! It’s a shit position to put me in because now I look like an asshole for being mean to you when you broke up with me!”

“Well, you haven't let it stop you from being an asshole to me.”

His voice came out a tad bitter, but it was true. Bakugou certainly hadn’t expressed any reluctance at being an asshole to him. Bakugou laughed humorlessly, the intrinsically wrong sound hitting Kirishima’s ears like a bullet. 

“Am I not within my fucking rights to be an asshole to you?! You dumped me because I have a right to my privacy and left me in the middle of nowhere?”

“Your so-called “right to privacy” just meant you didn’t want to commit by telling people. What, were you planning to act like highschoolers and break up after graduation?! This wasn’t just a fling to me, Katsuki-”

“Do you think it was to me?! Do you think it didn’t mean fucking everything to me?!”

Demanded Katsuki, eyes wide and bright with emotion and righteous betrayal. Kirishima watched the sheer pain in Katsuki’s gaze, and couldn’t stop himself from speaking again. If he was apologising and grovelling and begging to come back to Katsuki and his warmth, Kirishima might have allowed speaking. He was not.

“Yes! Yes I do, because you’ve given me no reason to think otherwise. Everything you’ve done, every action and word from the past 2 years, have plainly told me that you didn’t care about this relationship like I did. I just can’t believe that it took me that long to see it.”

Katsuki held his eye contact a few seconds longer than he should have before Kirishima broke, hanging his head as they let the weight of Kirishima’s words settle over them. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Bakugou’s shoulders slump, and the light slowly dim from his ruby eyes as he slumped back down into his seat, all but given up on Kirishima. A thick, heavy silence coated the car, and Kirishima settled back into his seat, trying desperately to escape the memory of Bakugou’s betrayed eyes on him.

“I’m so fucking sick of this shit,”

Said Bakugou, muttered but still audible, and with a hint of bitterness. and sheet exhaustion in his words. Kirishima was about to say something concerning how he didn’t even start this argument, he did, when suddenly, there was a sickening crack, and he spun around, horrified, to see Bakugou jamming something down the side of the window.

“What are you doing?!”

Bakugou all but ignored him, proceeded to shove what looked like either his keys or a knife into a specific spot through the door.

“What does it look like I’m doing?!”

And suddenly, the door Bakugou had previously been resting against was swinging open, letting him hop out. The relief on his face was pure and undefiled, and his smile was as if a star itself had come down and was shining out of him. It was so distracting Kirishima almost forgot he could actually get out of the car, and that Bakugou had been defacing his car.

“Are you gonna let me out?”

Bakugou paused, as if considering it, and a horrible thought ripped through Kirishima’s mind that Bakugou was going to leave him in this truck, and he would have to awkwardly clamber through the seat to get to the door, which would be very embarrassing. However, Bakugou decided to take pity on him, and opened the door, red eyes trained on him as he climbed out. It was a tad awkward, seeing as the time he’d spend in the truck over the last few hours meant that his legs were completely asleep, but he managed to get out and stand upright without looking like a fool. Now, he was watching Bakugou walk around, faintly concerned about the state of his car.

“You could do that… The whole time?”

Bakugou barely registered him, lifting his face to the sky and letting the cool night breeze wash over him. 

“Yeah.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you?”

Suddenly, the car gave a groan, and the door that Bakugou had successfully managed to pry open fell off the truck. That, if not bad enough, was swiftly followed by an ear-splitting car alarm that Kirishima realised would not turn off without the keys to the car. Which he did not possess.

“Because that happens.”

Ah.

Bakugou spun on his heels, and began to walk away, heading into the forest that their friends had disappeared into almost an hour prior. Kirishima’s eyes bulged, and he almost cried out of sheer frustration before shouting after the retreating blonde head.

“You can’t just do that and walk away!”

He didn’t even stop, just twisted his head enough that he could see Kirishima having a crisis through the corner of his eye.

“Where I’m going, I won’t be able to hear it!”

Kirishima gave an affronted gasp, and started to move towards Bakugou, who, to his credit, seemed very undisturbed by the car alarm going absolutely ballistic.

“Oh, you are not going on your own and leaving me here!”

“Okay, then you won’t hear it either if you leave too. What’s the problem?”

He was so aggravating.

“What’s the problem?! Someone could hear it, call the police and have my car put in some junkyard!”

“Then stay with it.”

He was awfully uncaring while he waited for Kirishima, arms crossed and eyes narrowed as he stared him down. Meanwhile, Kirishima’s mind was working a hundred miles a minute.

“You can’t go out there on your own! It’s dark! You could get hurt, and Iida would kill me if he knew I let someone get injured on this trip!”

“It was a lot darker when you let me walk through a storm, might I add.”

There was a faint smirk playing on Bakugou’s lips, knowing he’d just won himself the argument. If Kirishima didn’t know any better, he would think Bakugou wanted him to go with him, because he knew that after bringing that up, Kirishima couldn’t let him go on his own. Once again, Kirishima cursed himself for ever leaving Bakugou behind, just because it had given him an unfair advantage in any argument. Kirishima groaned, realising he’d been backed into a corner.

“You… You arse !”

Bakugou smiled, red eyes sparkling as the moon began to shine through some trees, and started to walk off towards the forest.

“Coming or not?”

Kirishima cast one last, despairing look back at the truck, and its blaring security system, and started to jog to catch up with Bakugou, eventually falling in step-with-step with the blonde.

“Fine. But I’m not happy about this.”

“Didn’t ask you to be.”

Bakugou was sitting in the passenger seat of the truck, silently fidgeting and trying to work up the courage to enter his own school that he paid for. It wasn’t so much about the school, per se, than it was about the person who went there. The second he stepped out of the truck, he would see the place where they’d had many a rainy conversation and kiss. He would see the campus coffee shop they’d often frequented to laugh together in when he walked through campus, and he would see the thousands of places their hands had brushed, and both of them had longed to touch each other. And that wasn’t even mentioning the possibility of seeing the man that had haunted his dreams, both waking and sleeping. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Kirishima. Because, fuck, he did. He wanted to look straight into those deep red eyes and search for anything that said it wasn’t over. But Katsuki knew that the second he saw Kirishima, he would almost black out, and he would have walked right past without even remembering. Even if he’d wanted to spare Kirishima a passing glance, he couldn't've. It was just something his body did unwittingly to protect him. In a way, he was grateful. He was trying so hard to not run right back to Kirishima and give up everything just to be with him, because he knew as soon as he saw him he would try to do that. Even though it was the very opposite of what he wanted. He loved his channel, and his life, and he didn’t want to give that up for anything. Only, with Eijirou, nothing really seemed worth it if it meant losing him.

He’d been sitting in the passenger seat, fidgeting, for a suspiciously long time. The driver, to his credit, was ignoring him the best he could, but it was hard when every few minutes he would glance despairingly towards the door, make a small move to get up, and sink back into his seat. And every time he did that, the driver would glance at Katsuki out of the corner of his eye, and purse his lips. He didn’t like the feeling of being judged. 

“Don’t you have anything else to be doing?”

The driver’s eyes narrowed exasperatingly, albeit a tad fonder than they had been when they’d first met.

“Well, I would, but there’s someone in my truck who refuses to get out.”

“Just- just give me a minute. Believe me, I don’t want to be around you any more than I actually have to.”

The driver did not give him a minute, before asking a question that made Bakugou almost want to strangle someone.

“What’s so special about this boy anyway?”

“Nothing! Can nothing I do be about me, not my relationship to some guy?”

To be fair, it was about Kirishima, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Ex-relationship.”

He quipped, and Bakugou scowled at him.

“Thanks for that.”

The driver rolled his eyes, stretching back in his seat. 

“I just don’t see why you’re making such a big deal out of this. You don’t even have any classes with him.”

“I live with him .”

“Yeah, and with eighteen other people. Avoid him.”

“He’s completely unavoidable. He’s always fucking there .”

The driver hummed, tracing the contours of the steering wheel.

“Sounds like a good boyfriend, if he’s always there, even when you don’t want him to be.”

Bakugou sighed, resting back into his seat.

“He was.”

Suddenly, he sat up straight, glaring at the driver with narrowed eyes.

“You better not be taking that fucker’s side.”

“I’m not taking sides here. I could not give less of a shit about this.”

Then, begrudgingly;

“But if I had to pick a side, it would be you.”

Bakugou leaned back again, satisfied.

“That’s what I fucking thought.”

Then, his phone bleeped and lit up, signifying that it was fully charged, and Bakugou gladly picked it up. Being off-grid was certainly freeing, but he’d missed the security of his phone. He couldn’t say he’d missed the constant texting, though. And because he’d essentially disappeared for two weeks, there was bound to be a whole lot of irrelevant texting

Painstakingly slowly, Bakugou opened his phone and clicked on one of the many unread messages. Reading through it, it was clear that his absence hadn’t gone unnoticed, as it seemed that the only things they were possibly talking about was him not being there, and the speculations about what had happened. He noticed that Kirishima was not very prevalent in the conversations. Good. He hoped Kirishima thought he was dead. He hoped the self-condemnation consumed him as he thought about leaving. He hoped Kirishima was utterly overtaken by guilt.

Class 1-A (OFFICIAL GROUP CHAT MADE BY TENYA IIDA NOT FOR MEMES DENKI)

iida: Bakugou where are you!!! I assumed you would be in school even if you didn’t come back with Kirishima!!!

jirou: hes probably dead in a ditch somewhere

iida: Jirou that is not funny.

mina: jesus christ i forgot ab this chat

momo: aren't we only supposed to use this for official dorm business?

sero: technically bakugou has been MIA for 3 days this is official dorm business

todoroki: he lost our snap streak 🙁

uraraka: unforgivable

sero: wait he defo has this chat muted

mina: he has all of our chats muted i bet

denki: NAHH NOT MY ONE

denki: my bae wouldn’t do that to me

mina: oh he so would

Iida: Bakugou when you get this come back to school immediately! Final exams are only weeks away and I would not want you to jeopardise your grades!

sero: bakugou could literally go to sleep in all his exams and wake up 5 minutes before he left and he would still get better than me

jirou: well that’s not exactly hard is it

-

mina: bakugou counter; MIA for 5 days

uraraka: will you stop doing that

uraraka: i think iida is on the verge of tears

shinsou: personally i hope he stays away longer

iida: A classmate is missing on my watch… I have failed in my duty as class president…

mina: bro shush

mina: i think midoriya has gone into cardiac arrest

denki: LMFAOOOO

denki: my guy is having withdrawal symptoms

momo: on a serious note what do we do

momo: tell faculty?

shinsou: nah i wanna see how long he stays away

shinsou: he's probably just lost in the woods i bet

-

mina: MIA FOR A WEEK WHOOO ANNIVERSARY

denki: LMFAAOOO THIS IS ACTUALLY GETTING SO WEIRD

mina: maybe we should just start talking shit about him so he’ll text to defend himself

iida: Kirishima, did anything happen before you left?

kirishima: nope!

iida: Why did you agree to go separate ways?

kirishima: i dont know to see who got back faster i guess?

iida: do you remember what mode of transport he took?

kirishima: no sorry

mina: something suspicious is cooking methinks

-

enemies to lovers coded

Todoroki & Bakugou

blair: bakugou where are you

blair: iida is making me text you to see if you reply

blair: i have been chosen

blair: midoriya and kaminari have also been chosen as a heads up

blair: please answer so we know you are not dead

blair: however i respect your privacy so i will allow you to keep doing whatever you are doing

-

blondes do it better

Kaminari & Bakugou

demon summoner: DEMONN
demon summoner: BAKUGOUUUU

demon summoner: ANSWER THE PHONEEEEE

demon summoner: COME BACL TO SCHOOL IM LONELY I MISS MY FAVE ANGER ISSUES MAN

demon summoner: CMON MAN ITS SO BORING WHEN UR NOT HERE

demon summoner: TRYING TO FIND YOU IS THE ONLY INTERESTING THING IN MY LIFE

demon summoner: COME BACKKK OR TELKL ME WHERE YOU ARE SO I CAN JOIN U I BEG

-

rats that live in the walls

Sero & Bakugou

dilf gatherer: bakugou come back pls mina keeps singing and there is noone to tell her to shut up

dilf gatherer: ill give you weed

dilf gatherer: i beg

dilf gatherer: come back

dilf gatherer: so bored

dilf gatherer: so tired

dilf gatherer: its so quiet

-

gossip addicts anon

Mina & Bakugou

mother: baku my love come back home the kids miss you

mother: kaminari is in a blending phase

mother: i will not be a widow again

mother: also iida is actually going through it

mother: and midoriya is also not doing great

mother: wait thatll make you stay away longer

mother: ignore that

-

denki keepers inc.

Shinshou & Bakugou

side eye: iida is making me ask you to come back

side eye: he thinks we’re friends

side eye: ew

side eye: come back so you can tell him he’s wrong

-

aldera high survivors

Midoriya & Bakugou

deku: KACHHAN WHERE ARE YOU

deku: THIS IS NOT FUNNY

deku: PLEASE COME BACK

deku: I CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS ANYMORE

deku: PLEASEEEEE

deku: IF YOU'RE DEAD I DON'T KNOW WHAT ILL DO

deku: PLEASE COME BACK

deku: KACCHAN I'M CRYING EVERY DAY MY TEAR DUCTS CAN'T TAKE MUCH MORE OF THIS

-

your physical hatred

Jirou & Bakugou

guy on bass: we have a gig next month and you better fucking be there idc if you show up 5 minutes before as long as you know the music idc

guy on bass: come back tho

guy on bass: band practice is all over the place and mina keeps on playing doja cat on blast on the dorms speakers

guy on bass: hope ur not dead ig

guy on bass: although statistically speaking

-

putting the b in romance

Kirishima & Bakugou

eijirou: i miss you

eijirou deleted a message

Bakugou stared at the “deleted message” signal emblazoned on his phone screen, and slowly clicked onto a different chat, eyes still grained on the smiling Kirishima on his phone.

the plastics

Rumi, Takami, Yu & Bakugou

susan from monsters vs aliens: guys guess who i'm collabing with

birdbrained i just saw your twitter i already know

susan from monsters vs aliens: SHUT YP BITCH

birdbrained: i was gonna say congratulations but ok

susan from monsters vs aliens: GUESSSS

peter rabbit: ur mom

susan from monsters vs aliens: very funny rumi

susan from monsters vs aliens: hope u know i'm under ur bed

susan from monsters vs aliens: but actually guess

peter rabbit: no clue

susan from monsters vs aliens: KYLIE MF JENNER!!!!!!!!!

peter rabbit: LMFAOOO NO UR NOT U LIAR

susan from monsters vs aliens: I LITERALLY AM WHAT THE HELL

peter rabbit NO UR NOT 

susan from monsters vs aliens: CHECK HER TWITTER YOU UGLY RAT

peter rabbit: wait fr

peter rabbit: HOLY SHITTTTT

susan from monsters vs aliens: I FUCKJING KNOW RIGHT???!!??!?!?!?

birdbrained: congrats!!!!

susan from monsters vs aliens: thank you!!! ugh this is gonna be so good

susan from monsters vs aliens: one left to break the news to

susan from monsters vs aliens: the news being that i am and always and forever will be more successful than all of you

susan from monsters vs aliens: kat

susan from monsters vs aliens: bakugou

susan from monsters vs aliens: PICK UP THE PHONE

susan from monsters vs aliens: @ chanel oberlin

susan from monsters vs aliens: @ chanel oberlin

susan from monsters vs aliens: PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE

peter rabbit: come to mention it he hasn’t been active on here or any socials in a couple of days

birdbrained: he's probably sleeping off a raging hangover

birdbrained: college kids and their shenanigans

susan from monsters vs aliens: someone come get keigo he just said shenanigans in front of the hoes

susan from monsters vs aliens: but yeah where is he?

susan from monsters vs aliens: he posted like 4 days ago

birdbrained: this guy is so annoying why is he waxing lyrical about my foundation and concealer and then slutshaming me in dms

peter rabbit: kat when you get these messages will you please tell them to shut up i can't deal with this much dumb blonde energy this early in the morning

birdbrained: you’re blonde too

birdbrained: WE’RE ALL BLONDE

Bakugou scrolled through the remaining 1062 messages on the groupchat quickly, but the few words he was catching all seemed to be different variations of “kat” “bakugou” “where are you” “talk to us” and “answer your fucking phone.” After a small period of deliberation, he decided to text back. 

chanel oberlin: you all text too fucking much

Within a few seconds, Keigo’s icon popped up on the screen.

birdbrained: WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU

birdbrained: ITS BEEN 2 WEEKS

birdbrained: WHAT THE FUCK

chanel oberlin: my phone was off

birdbrained: FOR TWOO WEEKS???????

birdbrained: what happened

chanel oberlin: nothing

peter rabbit: you better not be doing a social media cleanse cos thats the stupidest shit ive ever heard in my life

peter rabbit: glad ur back tho

birdbrained: did something happen?

chanel oberlin: nah

chanel oberlin: not important

birdbrained: ok

birdbrained: you can talk to us if something did happen

birdbrained: i mean we’ve all practically adopted you atp

chanel oberlin: yeah cause ur all fucking old as hell and you have nothing better to do that bother a college student on the internet

chanel oberlin: but ok

susan from monsters vs aliens: BAKUGOU FUCKING KATSUKI WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU

chanel oberlin: time to dip

Bakugou turned his phone off, proceeding to stare out the window again. The driver eyed him up, and Bakugou turned to glare at him, tucking his phone into the pocket of his jeans.

“Got something to fucking say?”

“Just thinking.”

“Well, stop it.”

The driver huffed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he turned to look at Bakugou.

“Would you ever try being more likeable?”

“Not a fucking chance.”

“Well. Good for you for not sacrificing your integrity.”

The car fell into comfortable silence again, save for the driver’s tapping on the wheel, and the driver sighed, looking at Bakugou again.

“You can’t run from this forever, you know.”

The comment struck a nerve, especially considering his most recent conversation with Kirishima, and he snapped back;

“I’m not running from fucking anything.”

“Well, you sure as hell arn’t going in that school. And you chased me around the last two weeks just to avoid talking to some boy.”

Bakugou crossed his arms, sinking sulkily into the chair.

“So?”

“So, you need to face him and get this shit over with. I promise you he wasn’t been doing any better than you’re doing.”

To his credit, though being a self-proclaimed hermit, the man was alright at giving advice and unwanted reality checks.

“You don’t know that. You don’t know him.”

“I practically do, judging by how much you talk about him. I know he’s kind, and generous, and an asshole, and a dickless wonder, and he’s the best thing that ever happened to you, and the worst mistake of your life, and all sorts of other combinations of expletives that I won’t repeat.”

Bakugou went silent for a few seconds, trying to figure out if he actually talked about Kirishima that much.

“I don’t talk about him that much .”

“Yes. Yes, you do. Being with you for an extended period of time is like being a couples therapist for one side of the story.”

Bakugou bit his lip, going momentarily silent, then said, in an uncharacteristically quiet voice;

“I just don’t know how to coexist with him without him.”

He raised his head, and saw the driver watching him, dark eyes unreadable and yet so clear. When he spoke, he did so with the knowledge of someone who had lived and learned in this, and wasn’t done running just yet.

“You just do it. And it’ll be hard at first, but eventually you get used to it, and it even gets easier over time. And then suddenly, you’re doing it, and you don’t know how, but you’re doing it. You can do it. Just walk past him, head high, act like that fucker doesn’t exist and he means nothing to you, even if you want to die when you see him. And soon, you can walk past him and barely even see him. You can get there. You just need to start.”

A pause, and then;

“Jesus Christ, do you have a fucking psychiatry degree? Where does all this shit come from?”

The driver laughed drying, flexing his fingers on the wheel,

“Experience.”

Bakugou chewed his lip, deliberating, and opened the door. The driver raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, watching Bakugou hop out of the truck.

“We’re finally doing this, then?”

“Guess so.”

Bakugou’s beaten-up shoes hit the tarmac, and he glanced up at the driver. He would sort of miss it, in a way. He would miss the days he’d spent with his feet up on the dashboard, painting his nails with some cheap gas station polish while the driver complained about the smell. He would miss the endless conversations and arguments they’d had about nothing in particular, and how he’d finally felt like someone was looking out for him. Most of all, he’d miss the man who had let him mourn Kirishima and everything good about him, who had offered him advice he hadn’t taken, but had considered, and who had been there for him, really been there, when Katsuki had needed it most.

Bakugou fidgeted, scuffing his shoes on the pavement as he tried to figure out how to say goodbye to his safety net of late nights and the comforting rumbling of the truck and the man in the god awful ugly yellow sleeping bag.

“So.”

“So.”

The driver stretched back in his seat, crooked smile beginning to show.

“You know, I don’t think I’ll miss the constant radio-hogging.”

He rolled his eyes, and was about to retort, when the driver spoke again, this time a little softer.

“I’ll miss you, though.”

Bakugou opened his mouth to say it back, but the words didn’t come out. The driver seemed to know, though, and he nodded at Bakugou like he understood.

The driver held out a yellow post-it note, watching Bakugou intently.

“Here. If you ever need anything.”

Cautiously, Bakugou took the post-it, and glanced at the black writing hastily scrawled on. He saw a phone number, which gave him a sort of warm feeling of familiarity in his chest that he wasn’t sure if he liked or not, and beneath that, a name. Bakugou blinked, reading the name a few times to make sure he had it right. Eventually, he looked up, staring at the driver almost laughingly

“That’s your name ?!”

The driver- Aizawa . Shouta Aizawa. He had to remember that. Aizawa. Aizawa was staring at him, undoubtedly offended and looking like he was regretting the decision to pick Bakugou up more every second.

“What the fuck’s wrong with it?!”

“Nothing, it just wasn’t… what I was expecting.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, does my own name not adhere to your unachievable standards?”

He sniped, eyes narrowing at Bakugou barely choking down his laughter as he replied.

“No, it’s fine, I guess.”

Bakugou barely managed to get the words out before he dissolved into laughter at Aizawa’s affronted expression, which he did not find funny, judging by his deadpan expression. 

“Fine. You know what? Fine. Don’t call if it’s so funny. See if I care.”

Gasping, Bakugou finally managed to contain himself, just as Aizawa’s lips started to crack.

“No, it’s fine. Really. Nothing to laugh about.”

He gave a very sharp huff, but Bakugou could see the bittersweet smile beginning to emerge.

“Don’t be a stranger.”

“Don’t die while I’m gone, old man.”

Aizawa flipped him off, and Bakugou returned the gesture. The door was closed, and he drove off, taking Bakugou’s only chance of avoiding Kirishima with him. Once the truck was out of sight, Bakugou sighed, and turned to the entrance of the school.

It was the same. Same signs, same people, same exact school. But it felt so extraordinarily different. Maybe he was going crazy. That would be easier than admitting he was scared to see Kirishima again. To check if he was doing fine, if he was laughing and smiling and joking around like nothing happened. A more mature person would want Kirishima to be happy, with or without Bakugou. Bakugou was not that person. Bakugou wanted him crushed. Bakugou wanted to know this pain just like he knew it. But at the same time, Bakugou wanted him happy, because if Kirishima was just as utterly wrecked as he was, it would mean they’d gone through all this pain for absolutely nothing.

Bakugou took a deep breath, and walked into U.A. Walked into where Kirishima was. Walked into the beginning of the end.