Chapter Text
Orange was Kirishima's first colour.
Warm. Bright. Attention-grabbing. It infiltrated his life quickly, seeping through the cracks of things he never knew to be colourful before. His clothes. His food. His toys. By the age of 4, orange was a not-so-subtle hue amongst the black and white of everything else in his vision, a part of life that he adored dearly.
But he knew what it meant. He wasn't an idiot.
Orange was the colour of arrogance.
Of pride.
Of superiority.
Told were the tales of people whose first colour was orange, caked in bitter voices and hurt tones. The stories never tended to be pleasant, but Kirishima never truly listened, never truly wanted to believe. Orange could mean other things too, occasionally.. like determination, or drive!
That was rare though, and unlikely - which he was reminded of, often. By his parents. By his friends. He knew they cared. He knew they just didn't want him getting hurt; but sometimes, just sometimes, when he spots a familiar strong coloured flower amongst the grey shrubbery, Kirishima kind of wishes that anything other than orange was there, as his first.
At 15, red takes over Kirishima's world.
It happens while walking home his usual way, with orange seeping out from the setting sun as he suddenly gets the urge to blink rapidly. He stops, rubbing at his eyes furiously, fingers brushing over the pointed scar above his right eye with an unintentional grit of his sharp teeth.
When Kirishima opens his eyes again, after the odd feeling passes, he gapes. Bleeding into his vision steadily is another colour, much more vibrant, much stronger, much richer.
Red. A strange sensation in his gut tells him, and he can do nothing but go along.
The colour is similar to orange, Kirishima thinks, as he watches the darker hue blend with his other, much more familiar shade, illuminating everything around him in a warm glow. Once home, he is dazzled, looking upon each newly coloured possession as if it were completely different. Like he had never seen any of it before.
Red, Kirishima finds, is much more prominent around him than orange. It felt like it was in everything, never giving him a chance to look away. Not even as Kirishima looked into the mirror before his nightly shower, expecting to see his usual dark irises looking back at him, only to be met with that beautiful, vibrant colour again.
When he sees his poster of Crimson Riot, above his bed like it usually was, except consumed by this newfound pop of radiance, Kirishima can barely contain a toothy smile: even as he flops down onto his bed, damp black hair flying everywhere as he buries his head in the (unfortunately not red) pillow.
Usually, on dark, cold nights like these, he stews on thoughts of the past, of things he could do better, say better. Tonight, his thoughts are only plagued with red. Red. Red. Red.
At some point in the night, however, Kirishima does acknowledge it, the gnawing thought in the back of his head about what it means.
About what red means.
It means anger.
It means rage.
Red and Orange. His first two colours.
Laying in bed, cold air rushing through his open window as a strange warmth radiates from the few colours surrounding him, Kirishima wonders, briefly, whether this revelation should worry him.
He doesn't tell anybody about red, for a while.
A few weeks later, Kirishima has an encounter with a villain. One that douses fear over every muscle in his body 'till all he can do is stand, frozen in place and able to do nothing but watch the scene in front of him dissolve.
It is not his bravery that helps save the day. It is not his unwavering sense of self, which, at that moment, wasn't very unwavering at all. In fact, he does nothing, watching as instead, Mina steps in, leading the villain away before she falls to her knees, bawling unceremoniously.
Kirishima goes home that day, dejected and feeling useless. Even more so than usual.
Him? A hero? What a stupid dream.
In a burst of anger, he throws a book behind him, only to hit an old hologram depicting an interview with Crimson Riot. The speech soothes his anger and calms the feeling of self-loathing in him, but it still lingers, not completely fading away.
That night, Kirishima decides he will be manly, and strong, just like Crimson Riot. That night, Kirishima deems red his favourite colour, fierce and sturdy and all the things he wishes he could be. That night, Kirishima firms his resolve.
The first time he sees Bakugou use his quirk, Kirishima is amazed, openly gapes as his hand explodes into a mess of red and orange, brighter and more powerful than anything else he's ever seen, it feels like, against the black and whites of everything else.
He can easily feel the force from where he is stood, and the confidence on Bakugou's face fills Kirishima with a strange sense of determination he can't quite name or understand.
Distantly, the small, insignificant ball he threw lands with a crash.
Mina, he learns, has never seen colour at all, left only to the confines of black and white in her world. Kirishima thinks of red, his favourite colour, and wonders how he would have felt if left to just orange. Or if he had been left without any of these hues at all.
The topic delves deeper, Mina enthusiastically forcing everybody to spill about the colours they've seen. Her eyes sparkle as Kaminari, ever eager, talks about pink, mouth still stuffed with his lunch as he doesn't even bother to swallow. He mentions yellow too, but doesn't elaborate on that much more, sticking to the 'warm', 'soft' tones of pink.
Pink, the colour of passion, love, enthusiasm: and yellow, the colour of guilt, shame.
Kaminari, he also learns, has already met his soulmate, Jirou, soon after enrolling at UA. The thought startles Kirishima, and he can't help but feel a little jealous. God, he wishes he could meet his soulmate, but it's hard to tell, in this world, hard to know exactly who your soulmate is, amongst the colours.
"How'd you know?" Kirishima finds himself asking, curious bubbles floating around his brain, unable to pop until he knows.
"Huh?" It takes Kaminari a moment to understand the inquiry, and when he does he immediately becomes a lot more animated. "Oh! That she was my soulmate? Well, it's like, when you're near them there's this pull, like a magnet, y'know?"
There's a pause. "I don't get it." Sero interrupts his hopeful expression, brows furrowed as Mina nods her head to his comment. Both seem confused at the analogy, but Kirishima can't help but find it familiar. Like he's felt it somewhere before.
"It's just like, a force? I don't know, dude. It's hard to tell, just, she was cool and I wanted to be friends with her, like a lot. And then when you realise you're soulmates, it just clicks? Like something in your gut just tells you."
Mina purses her lips, eyes narrowing, before shrugging and going back to her food. Sero scratches his head, muttering a small "Sure, man, whatever you say." while Kirishima just stares at Kaminari with furrowed brows. The analogy is strange to him, too familiar, and he can't place where he's felt that before.
The topic changes once again, but Kirishima stays quiet, thinking.
He ponders, for a moment, what colours his soulmate sees.
Something in him won't let it go, stood in the middle of the stadium, trying to find people to group with. He knows he shouldn't. He knows he should try to choose someone else: but his eyes keep wandering over there without his permission, looking, staring, and suddenly his feet move too, like they're being dragged without his permission.
He locks eyes with Bakugou, staring into those deep, red depths as he's surrounded by a gaggle of students begging to team up with him, and the feeling resurfaces. He can't name it, not right now, as he shouts over the crowd and tells Bakugou to team up with him instead. To have him as his front horse.
He finds himself filled with determination when Bakugou smirks, acknowledges him for the first proper time, accepts his offer. He feels powerful. He feels strong. Kirishima feels like right now, he can be manly.
Distantly, he thinks about what Kaminari said not so long ago, of a powerful force he can't describe, and questions whether this is it.
The red of Bakugou's eyes seem so much stronger than anything else, and Kirishima doesn't want to look away.
Kirishima isn't an idiot. He's recognized the signs. The coincidences. But when he looks up at Bakugou in the middle of this Café, grilling him about a math problem he doesn't know if he'll ever understand, and his gut turns, twists, before spitting out the world soulmates - it feels like his world stops.
Kaminari was right, about it clicking. The moment the word enters his brain, everything seems to just, fit. Orange. His first colour. The colour of arrogance. Red. His favourite colour. The colour of rage. Both fit seamlessly into Bakugou's personality.
Something in him wants to say it out loud, to speak the words, but then Bakugou is hitting him on the head with a rolled-up piece of paper, shouting "Oi! Shitty hair! Are you listening to me or what?!"
His thoughts shut down as he sheepishly glances at the other boy, muttering a small "Sorry." He can't tell him. Bakugou doesn't need, or want, the distraction. He can picture it now. His response when Kirishima tells him, when he finds out.
Kirishima isn't an idiot.
But maybe he is.
Anger racks through Kirishima's entire body. It masks over his guilt, his self-hatred, pushing him forward as he extends a hand to Midoriya.
"He's not beyond our reach just yet!"
The past few days pass through his head in a flash, and he grits his teeth even harder. Bakugou, his soulmate, gone, taken to who knows where, and he couldn't do shit about it. It makes him want to cry, scream, shout until his anger fades. But it won't. Not until he's back, and Kirishima can hang out with him again.
Midoriya looks up at him with wary grey eyes, and he can just feel everyone else in 1-A staring at him. But he doesn't care if it's a bad idea. He doesn't care if it could get him killed.
Kirishima isn't coming back without Bakugou.
He didn't notice, at first. The chaos was too much. The screaming. The shouting. The cries of "WIN ALL MIGHT!" still chorusing through his ears. Everyone else seemed the same, standing, gaping, as the number one hero still managed to stand tall, left fist raised in the air in a show of triumph.
It felt like the whole world released a breath, at that moment, Kirishima included. His eyes burned with tears, and a strangely familiar motion of rubbing at them ensued. Today had been too much. His anger had subsided, sure, but it left something else in its place that stung. Hard.
It took a while for the burning feeling to go away, for some reason, and when it did, he pried open his eyes once more.
That's when he noticed.
Edging into his vision, slowly, as if it were scared to truly stand with the others, was another colour. Vibrant, but not as warm as the other two. Strong, but in a different way. Tinged with something much harsher.
Yellow. The colour of guilt.
His head immediately whipped to the side, in time to spot an expression on Bakugou's face he had never seen before. Sad, almost. Mad, but in a different way. And when he truly looked at the other boy, saw his hair slowly turning into a dull, subtle shade of this newfound colour, Kirishima immediately decided he didn't really like yellow. It didn't belong.
Yellow should never have been there.
Kirishima never brought it up, he didn't know-how. It would mean they had to talk about being soulmates. It would mean Kirishima would have to know his response.
Even after the dorm system was introduced, and he was placed in the room next to Bakugou's.
Even after Midoriya and Bakugou fought, and were subsequently placed under house arrest.
It was pathetic. Unmanly. Nothing like Kirishima wanted to be. But that was it, wasn't it? He was pathetic. He didn't deserve to be Bakugou's soulmate. He didn't deserve to interrupt him in his goal.
So Kirishima never brought it up.
"Your hair."
The words make him look up from his homework with a confused face, sat on Bakugou's dorm room floor surrounded by papers and books galore.
"Hm? What about my hair?" Kirishima reaches a hand up idly, fiddling with the loose, red strands that fall over his face. A thought occurs to him. "Oh. That. I didn't really want to style it 'till tomorrow since I've already had a shower, yknow?" He pauses. "It looks bad, right? Sorry." He offers a grin and a small laugh despite his words, and Bakugou seems to glare at him even harder for it.
"No, you dumbass. It looks fine. It's just a really shitty shade of red."
Kirishima tilts his head as the words sink in.
"You can see it?"
Maybe he seems too surprised at the comment: surprised that it took this long for him to bring it up; surprised that it's Bakugou; surprised that it means he's gotten angry enough for his soulmate to see red, (literally), but Bakugou makes a clicking sound with his teeth before moving to lay down on his bed, facing the ceiling.
"Of course I can, idiot. Anybody could see your hair from a fucking mile away."
Bakugou avoids actually answering the question, brushing it off with a throwaway comment, and Kirishima doesn't push. Instead, he wonders if Bakugou likes red as much as he does, or is annoyed by it instead.
He hopes it's the former.
Bakugou hung out with everyone else more, after that. He didn't even resist when Kirishima dragged him down to the commons area that weekend, where the whole class was gathered.
They were reiterating rules of the dorms, mostly, but after that the lounge devolved into mindless chatter. Mindless chatter about colours, apparently.
"Ooo! Bakugou! Tell us about your colours!!" Mina, a common instigator of these conversations, it seemed, shouted loudly, turning to the blond with confidence quite a few of the other students didn't dare have.
"Yes! Yes! Tell us about your soulmate!" Hagakure joined in with Mina, jumping up and down excitedly (from what he could see, at least). A couple of other students turned their way too, and Kirishima couldn't help but look over at him, curious.
"Fuck off." He spat out the response instantly, but Kirishima could tell it lacked the hostility that would have accompanied it earlier in the year.
"Oh, c'mon Bakubro." Kirishima leant into the other boy with a smile. Both of them were squished into one side of the sofa, the other half taken up by Jirou and Yaoyorozu.
"Yeah, man. You never talk about any of this stuff." Kaminari added from where he was sprawled across the floor, bright yellow hair sticking to the material of the carpet as Sero unceremoniously laid on top of him.
He let out a small tch, before crossing his arms and glaring at everyone with as much anger as possible. Though quite a few were unphased, still showing as much interest as before. His intimidation factor was definitely fading.
"Tell us what your first colour was, at least!" Mina had saddled up to him now, poking him in the cheeks with a fearless grey finger. She then gasped, and her eyes seemed to sparkle. "Unless! Do you not have any colours either, eh? Eh?"
He practically snarled at her, pushing her hand out of his face. "Purple was my first colour, Raccoon Eyes. Now shut up and leave me alone." Kirishima felt himself still at the words, and everyone else seemed to have the same idea. Purple. That was Bakugou's first impression of him, even if he didn't know it was him. Purple, the colour of fear. Worry. Hesitance. Purple. God, it made Kirishima want to curl in on himself.
"Wait what?" Midoriya broke the silence as well as Kirishima's spiralling thoughts from his spot on the opposite sofa, surrounded by his own gaggle of friends. "You got a colour Kacchan?! When?!" He seemed excited at the prospect, grey eyes shining with an innocent curiosity.
It didn't seem that Bakugou took it that way, however, as a red tint that made Kirishima want to stare for eternity took over his cheeks and he practically launched himself at Midoriya. Kirishima managed to catch him in time, though, holding him down even as spewed out curses and cries of "FUCK YOU DEKU!".
He couldn't help but laugh, and a few other people joined in too, which only added to the blond's embarrassment. It stayed that way for a while, until Bakugou settled down, sinking into the couch with Kirishima still gripping his arm.
Everyone returned to their own conversations, not even bothering Bakugou anymore, and Midoriya seemed to deem it safe again, walking over to them both. He was much softer when he spoke this time, as if handling a ticking bomb. "Really though, Kacchan. When did you-"
"None of your business, nerd."
Midoriya just stood there, unwavering in his stance and Kirishima felt a little proud, actually, considering how even a few months earlier, he would have probably cowered where he stood. It makes him smile, and his grip on Bakugou's muscled arm tightens in silent suggestion. It earns him a reluctant sigh.
"I don't know, like a year ago? Does it matter?" He spits out the words, eyeing Midoriya as if to challenge him. The boy seems to consider the comment for a while, before heading back to his seat without another word. Honestly, it just pisses Bakugou off more, and Kirishima once again has to hold him down.
A hum comes from his left side, and Kirishima turns, in time to catch Jirou leaning forward, earphone jacks floating about aimlessly. "If it makes you feel better, my first colour was purple, too. Which makes sense, considering Denki's a massive wimp."
"Hey!"
The shout from the floor goes ignored, so does the laugh that follows from the boy atop him, and across the way, Tokoyami mutters "Revelry in the dark." It's most likely just his way of agreeing. Right?
Kirishima can feel Bakugou relax against him, watches as he narrows his eyes with an obviously fake snarl. "Like I want to have the same colour as you, ears."
Jirou just snorts a laugh, whether it's at him or not goes unknown, before returning to her conversation with Yaoyorozu. Idle chatter fills the entire room, and Kirishima feels pretty warm, safe, happy. It makes him break out into a grin, and he can immediately feel Bakugou's red eyes on him.
"The fuck are you smiling about, shitty hair." His voice is a lot softer than before, and Kirishima definitely notices.
"Nothing much. Just.. this is pretty nice, right?" He brings a knee up to his chest on the sofa, resting on it as he looks over his other classmates.
Bakugou seems to take a moment to respond, but when he does it's still soft, despite his words. "No. It's just annoying."
Kirishima smiles. "Right."
He thinks about the fact that Bakugou's first colour was purple long after that.
He hates it.
"Hey- so, um, well.." Midoriya tries to start up his thoughts and seems to fail each time. He's walking next to Kirishima, Tsuyu and Uraraka, all headed in the same direction for their work studies. Kirishima just tilts his head, waiting for Midoriya to finally catch up and just say what he's thinking.
"Uh- Kacchan is your- your soulmate, right?" The comment almost makes him stop in his tracks, but instead, he sputters out a small "What?", which makes Midoriya immediately backtrack.
"No- I was just- assuming- sorry. It's just that, well- I gathered you could see red, with your hair, and stuff, and you told me once you could see orange, and they're both pretty, Kacchan colours? I guess? I didn't like- it's just that um, you guys are.. you're close, closer than anyone I've ever met could be with Kacchan. So I just, like, put them together, and, um-"
He's stuttering the entire way through, hands waving about everywhere as red slowly engulfs his skin, speaking far too fast for Kirishima to even get a word in until the end.
"Yeah, um, I'm pretty sure we are. Soulmates. I mean." Kirishima scratches at the back of his head sheepishly, and Uraraka immediately jumps in on the conversation. "Wait, really?"
He nods, and Midoriya finally calms down, bringing his eyebrows together a little and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "Pretty sure?"
"Ah, well. I haven't really talked to him about it, yet. I mean, you know Bakubro." At that, Midoriya gives a huff and nods. "I just thought about it one day, and realised how right the word soulmates felt, y'know? Like my gut told me that that's just what it was. Honestly, it was a really weird experience."
"It makes sense." Tsuyu chimes in with her thoughts, and Kirishima only watches as Uraraka agrees, nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah, you guys are like, really close? At this point, if anyone wants to hang out with Bakugou, the best bet is to bring you with us."
He can feel himself blushing at her honesty, but before he can say anything about Bakugou just tolerating him, really, Midoriya interrupts him.
"I think you should tell him."
The words die on his tongue, and he looks at Midoriya's determined gaze with hesitation he's well accustomed to now.
"When we were kids, Kacchan really hated the idea of soulmates. And he didn't have any colours, either, so he just told everyone he didn't have a soulmate at all. That he was going to being number one on his own, without any of that getting in his way."
The confirmation makes Kirishima want to shrink in on himself, even as he looks up towards the sky, at the bright, yellow sun that shines there.
He still dislikes yellow.
"I think it got better over time though!" Midoriya reassures him, hands coming up in a soothing gesture. "He stopped hating on soulmates, and everything. And then when we came here, you guys immediately became friends and it threw me off because Kacchan doesn't make friends, y'know? But it makes sense if you're soulmates."
All three of them listen as Midoriya talks, walking in silence as they turn a corner together.
"Anyway, I think you should talk to him about it. Because out of everyone, he'll probably be fine with it, if it's you."
Kirishima once again meets the boy's eyes, shimmering with focus and determination, and finds his resolve to never tell Bakugou fading. He looks away, in hopes that it will build up his will again, but is again met with the determined faces of Tsuyu and Uraraka.
This time, he crumbles, and lets out a sigh. "Okay."
All three of them smile at him, and he ends up smiling with them.
He'll tell Bakugou later that day, when the sun is setting and warm hues take over the sky.
Red is his favourite colour, after all.
Kirishima doesn't get the chance.
Instead, he gets thrown into a raid. One that pushes his body and mind until he's wrapped, full cast in bandages at the hospital.
But he feels strong. Stronger than he has in a long time.
So when he gets back to the dorms after the sun has set, with stars littering the black, nighttime sky to find Bakugou almost avoiding him, it hurts.
He goes to bed, next to Bakugou's room, and sleeps, longer than he has in months.
Tomorrow he'll do it.
He will.
The trend of avoidance continues, for a multitude of days, before Kirishima decides to just screw it.
It's 10 pm on a Saturday, and down in the common area, everyone is preparing for a movie night. Something for the work-study students, but Kirishima doesn't attend. Instead, he heads to Bakugou's room, who he knows is also not attending, and barges in without thinking.
He finds Bakugou at his desk, startled enough to turn around and look at him with those deep red eyes before a scowl engulfs his features. "Ever learn how to fucking knock, hair-for-brains?"
He stops in the doorway, gives in to the urge to apologise for not knocking as he should have, before shutting the door behind him and walking further into the room. He stands in the middle of the carpet, eyes never leaving Bakugou's face.
"You've been avoiding me, dude."
"Yep." The answer is curt, short, and it makes Kirishima's gut turn in the wrong ways.
"Why?"
The question seems to make Bakugou think, and he also stands, meeting Kirishima in the middle of his dorm room. "We're soulmates, shitty hair."
This, however, makes Kirishima stop, any coherent thoughts he had managed to think up dying on his tongue. Bakugou just scowls, teeth showing and hands shoved deep into his pockets.
"How'd you- huh?" Is all he can manage to get out.
"Thank raccoon eyes, I guess."
Apparently Kirishima is still too confused, and Bakugou gives up talking to him, sitting down on his bed with a huff.
"You're avoiding me.. because we're soulmates?" Kirishima looks down, meets those unwavering eyes again and feels everything inside him hurt. Suspicions? No longer suspicions.
"Yeah. I mean, it's not like you care, right. Since you've known for so fucking long and didn't bother to tell me."
"What? What do you-"
"I get it, shitty hair. I wouldn't want me for a soulmate either. So you don't have to hang around me and shit anymore, there's no need. You can fuck off." His tone is sharp, harsh, but Kirishima can see the hurt in his tense posture, in his closed-off expression.
"Bakugou, that's not-"
"Not what? True? There's no point lying, Kirishima, i-" He's cut off again, and it's the use of his real name instead of "shitty hair" or some other variation that makes him snap.
"Shut up, man! Let me finish!"
It catches them both off guard, and Bakugou stares at Kirishima like he's suddenly grown an extra limb.
"I didn't tell you because I was scared, alright?! I was fucking scared because that's what I do when it gets down to it! I get scared, and run away like a pathetic, unmanly coward."
He runs a hand through his still-damp hair, almost wishing the soft carpet underneath his feet would just open up and swallow him.
"That's even more stupid than your shitty ass hair, so shut up." The words make Kirishima's heart swell, just a bit, even as he's being glared at. Truly being glared at, for the first time in a while.
"Is it though? Really? 'Cause I feel pretty unmanly right now, man."
Bakugou throws one of his pillows at him in an instant, with a face that screams 'I'll kill you', even despite his next words. "What the fuck were you even scared of? That I'd kill you?"
Kirishima considers not answering, but decides against it. "I don't know. That you wouldn't wanna hang out anymore? I mean, I know you, dude, I know that becoming number one is more important to you than anything else. Especially a dumb, pathetic soulmate that will get in your way."
Sparks fly from Bakugou's hands as he stands up again, face contorted into something like anger, but mixed with something else he can't identify.
"Shut the hell up. Maybe at one point yeah, but not if it's you, okay?" He feels rooted to the spot, his entire body buzzing as Bakugou slams a fist at his chest. "If anyone here is gonna be undeserving of a soulmate. It's me, you get it? I'm the one who doesn't deserve you."
"Oh shut up, you're amazing. In literally everything you do, man. All the time. You deserve like, everything." A thought comes to his head, a mutter of 'well, maybe not everything', but he decides against voicing that part.
"Not you. Never you, Kiri."
Everything feels like it comes to a stop, leaving just the two of them, in this room, forever. He feels much calmer now, more at peace, and he feels he can do nothing but smile at their idiocy, fondness pricking at the edges of his eyes.
"The fuck are you smiling at?"
"Just, that was really sweet, man. Wrong, because you're amazing and manly as fuck no matter what the hell your head is saying you are, but sweet. I feel like I'm gonna cry."
Bakugou retracts his hand, once again shoving it far into his pockets as a deep red taints his cheeks. Kirishima stares at the colour, before reaching out his own hand, thumbing over the red splotches that lay there. It only serves to fluster Bakugou more, as small explosions come from his hands and his entire face becomes consumed by red.
Kirishima just smiles even wider.
"Y'know, red suits you. I like it."
"Yeah, you too, or whatever."
"That's good, 'cause red is my favourite colour, y'know?" He chuckles, and catches Bakugou smiling a little too.
A strange sensation overcomes his eyes, one he can actually acknowledge, this time around. He doesn't move his hand though, not when Bakugou is leaning into it, entire body somehow becoming flushed with red. Instead, he blinks a few times, hopes that does the trick.
It does, and slowly, in little things scattered throughout Bakugou's room he can spot it, another colour.
Pink.
The colour of fondness. Admiration. Passion.
Love.
His entire body buzzes as he looks at Bakugou, who, with this newfound colour, is tinted even warmer, a mix of reds and pinks, now. He wants to smile until he rips through his cheeks, it feels like.
Pink, he decides, isn't that bad. Not better than red. No, never better than red. But maybe a close second.
Maybe, Kirishima could get used to pink.