Chapter Text
The words on the sheets spread in front of Kirishima looked meaningless. Scribbles that were irrelevant to his current inner turmoil, and were therefore ignored in favor of staring at the blonde next to him, who was absentmindedly tapping his pencil against his chin as he thought. It was admirable, really, his dedication to his studies, but it was something Kirishima could never emulate, no matter how hard he tried. And boy, did he try.
“Oh, I get it,” Bakugou said suddenly, hunching over his math worksheet and cross checking his work with the textbook. He would probably have to explain it to Kirishima in simpler terms in a couple minutes, but for now, Kirishima was content with watching him pencil in a complicated looking formula. “X goes on top, see?” He looked up, rolling his eyes when Kirishima blinked blankly at him. “Dunno what the fuck I was expecting. How far along are you?”
“Problem four,” Kirishima replied. Bakugou nodded, deeming it acceptable since he was only on problem seven. His eyebrows drew together.
“Break?”
“Please.” At this, Bakugou cracked a smile, tilting his chair back to stretch and letting his pencil clatter onto the table. Immediately, Kirishima’s eyes were drawn to the inch of skin revealed as his shirt rode up his waist. “You know, at this point in the year you could stand to loosen up a bit,” Kirishima commented, dragging his gaze up. “Study a little less, you know? You’re smart enough.”
Bakugou scowled. “I know I am, but that’s stupid. Why would I ruin my prospects this far into the game?”
“I highly doubt that would happen,” Kirishima said dryly. “You could probably commit mass murder and half the agencies in Japan would still want you.”
“I don’t give a shit where I end up,” Bakugou replied, shooting him a grin that made Kirishima’s heart stutter. “As long as it’s not completely shitty. It’s just a stepping stone, you know that. Our agency is the one that matters, and it’s only a matter of time before that happens. Man, you think we can beat Hawks? He’s pretty lame, so I think we could.”
“Right.” All of a sudden, Kirishima’s throat was uncomfortably dry. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”
“About what?”
“Our agency.”
“Oh, me too. See, I was thinking that since crime in Kyoto has gone up recently, and a couple years ago it was Nara, we should think about setting up in Hyōgo, because if the pattern continues then they’re next. I mean, if you absolutely hate that idea then we don’t have to do that, but—wait, what were you going to say?”
If it were any other moment, he would have been proud and a little amused that Bakugou had realized he had started rambling and that he had been considerate enough to ask Kirishima what he was going to say in the first place, but now, he just wished Bakugou had kept talking. Anything to put off this conversation.
“Well?” The blonde demanded after he had apparently taken too long to answer.
Kirishima swallowed thickly, unable to meet Bakugou’s gaze. “About the agency. I don’t think we should...commit to that just yet.”
It was silent for a couple seconds. “What?” Bakugou demanded, the front two legs of his chair slamming back down to the ground. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Nothing!” Kirishima replied, instantly on the defensive. “I just mean that there are a lot of opportunities we could be squandering if we’re certain that we’re going to open an agency together.”
“I thought we were certain.”
“We were, but think about it. If you get an offer to go abroad to a place like South America and then deny it because you’re supposed to be here with me, isn’t that wasting your potential?”
“We’ve wanted this since last year. You’ve wanted this since last year. Did I do something? I can’t think of what, but if you’re mad at me for some shit then—”
“It’s not like that, Bakugou,” Kirishima interrupted, finally looking at him. The expression on his face made him wish he hadn’t. The sheer hurt and shock plastered across his features made it look like Kirishima had just slapped him. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea, okay? I—I’ve changed my mind. It’s not about you, it’s just about keeping my options open.” He pretended not to notice the way that his friend’s face fell or the way that he was blinking furiously, choosing instead to focus on the scribbles of his homework.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
“Okay,” Bakugou replied quietly, after a tense beat of silence. “You’re right, we shouldn’t have—yeah. You’re right.”
“Okay.”
Kirishima didn’t know what to do. They sat quietly for a couple of seconds before Bakugou suddenly stood, saving Kirishima from having to make the next move.
“I’m tired,” he announced. “I should get to bed.”
“Right. Goodnight, Bakugou.”
“Yeah.”
I love you so much, all I want is to open this agency with you, I’ve never stopped wanting this.
Bakugou gathered his things robotically, giving Kirishima a wide berth and shutting the door softly behind him. The instant he was gone, Kirishima buried his head in his hands and let the tears fall. It was for the best. He preferred this pain to the pain of Bakugou realizing he wasn’t strong enough to be his partner, or the pain of having to work beside him and continue hiding his feelings. Worse yet, the possibility that Bakugou realized how he felt and dropped him entirely. Kirishima was stuck between a rock, a hard place, and his Unbreakable form, but he had chosen the best option.
Hadn’t he?
He pushed the image of Bakugou’s hurt face out of his mind. He had. It was better this way. This way, they could remain friends. Bakugou would realize that Kirishima had given him an easy way out soon enough, and then they could put this behind them and enter the world as pro’s ready to kick some ass.
It was for the best.
His heart stung when he looked at the homework that Bakugou was supposed to help him with, but Kirishima busied himself with putting his things away and getting in a short workout/shower combo to take his mind off of things before bed. For the most part, he succeeded. That was, of course, until he actually tried to fall asleep. It was impossible not to think of his and Bakugou’s conversation when there was nothing to keep his mind occupied, so Kirishima shoved his earbuds into his ear and fell asleep listening to music.
When he woke up, his phone was almost out of battery, which, yeah, oops, but he didn't mind so much. He carried it with him to school anyway, knowing that Kaminari was kind enough to charge it for him mostly free of charge—ha—if you didn't count the extra cookies Kirishima would have to hand over during lunch.
Bakugou wasn't waiting for him in the hallway. Kirishima frowned, but he honestly didn't know what he expected. He hadn't meant last night to sound like he didn't want anything to do with Bakugou at all, but if his friend really wanted some space, he wouldn't force a conversation. After cheerily greeting a good third of his classmates in the common room, Kirishima's gaze caught Bakugou just in time for him to see the blonde disappear out the front door to Heights Alliance with a familiar scowl on his face. Kirishima absently handed his phone to Kaminari who rolled his eyes and added the charging cord to his mouth along with three others. He might have made some comment about how Kirishima better be grateful, but the redhead was too busy with fretting over Bakugou to take too much notice.
"Shit!" Someone yelped, right next to his ear. Kirishima winced and turned. Oh, Sero. "We're gonna be late!"
The few people remaining in the room—mostly the people waiting for Kaminari to charge their phones—scrambled to their feet. Kirishima ran alongside them all the way to class, panting slightly but smiling at the fact that he had made it. He, Kaminari, and Sero bowed clumsily when Ashido and Hagakure cheered them for their efforts before taking their seats right in time for Aizawa to walk into class. Kirishima grinned and turned to Bakugou, but the smile slipped off his face when he realized that he wasn't looking anywhere in Kirishima’s direction. The redhead blew out a breath, slumping slightly in his seat. This was going to be a long day.
-
So maybe Bakugou was avoiding Kirishima. He thought that he was kind of entitled, considering that their last conversation felt like the verbal equivalent of punching him in the face and insulting his quirk in the same breath, far more painful than any real injury he had yet had. Dramatic, yes. Accurate? Also yes. Objectively, Bakugou knew that it wasn’t a true rejection. He hadn’t confessed anything for the redhead to reject in the first place, but it sure as hell felt like it.
The worst part was that Bakugou simply couldn’t fathom why Kirishima had suddenly changed his mind. His bullshit reasoning was a lie, and a shitty one at that. The two of them had considered nearly everything when Aizawa had first brought up the idea of a joint agency in their second year, thereby implanting the idea into both of their heads. Considering their excessive planning, the only thing Bakugou could think of for Kirishima’s complete one eighty on their plans was that something about Bakugou was now unworthy. Maybe it always had been, and Kirishima had just figured it out. Maybe he had realized that Bakugou would be a shit partner after watching him yell at one too many classmates during group projects, maybe he realized that he would probably tank their joint public approval ratings far more than he would ever raise them, maybe he had found someone better to team up with.
And oh, did that last one make Bakugou want to throw up. Because yeah, it wasn’t a flat out rejection, but what if Kirishima knew? What if this was his way of saying ‘I can put up with you as a friend but you're not enough to be anything more’.
It probably wasn’t that.
But whatever it was, it hurt. It hurt like a bitch to know that the reason Kirishima had changed his mind wasn’t technical, wasn’t opportunistic, wasn’t practical. It was Bakugou. Something was wrong with him.
So he was avoiding Kirishima.
What else was there to do? The period of time Bakugou had been able to look him in the eye had been cut to a whopping three seconds, and even that was a stretch without his telltale 'I need to get out of this situation right this very second' symptoms, such as his throat closing up or his eyes burning.
Bakugou wished that he had never known what a one-sided friendship felt like. Maybe stupid Deku was onto something with the waterworks.
During training, he dragged Uraraka away before Kirishima had the chance to come up to him—Bakugou didn’t even know if he was going to, but he couldn't take the chance—and the two of them paired up for the exercises. He told her that he wanted to focus on aerial maneuverability, which wasn’t a lie, and she was more than happy to help, because she was stupid like that.
“Don’t look now, but Kiri is totally staring at you,” she whispered as she threw him into a wall.
“Shut the fuck up,” Bakugou hissed, blasting himself back at her. The two of them grappled through the air until Uraraka finally managed to spin-kick him down. Bakugou narrowly avoided splattering onto the ground, cushioning himself with his blasts and hiking a large piece of rubble under his arm, exploding it into smaller pieces and blinding her with the miniscule pieces of rock. He handcuffed her hands behind her back, raising his arm to the sky and letting out a series of small explosions to send them gently to the ground, where he forcefully touched her fingertips together, letting the two of them fall the last few feet. “Karma, bitch.”
“What’s up with you?” She asked, ignoring that last comment. He scowled at her.
“Nothing, fuck off. Let’s just go report to Aizawa.”
“Does it have anything to do with why you haven't looked at Kirishima at all today?”
“Uraraka, I’m serious. Drop it.”
She pursed her lips but nodded, knowing that it was serious from his tone. They got their near perfect scores from Aizawa and sat on the sidelines, watching the rest of the fights. She was a comforting presence at his side, grounding him while also not prying into whatever was clearly fucking him up.
Uraraka hadn’t been lying, either. Out of the corner of his eye, Bakugou could see each instance where Kirishima’s head would angle slightly towards him from where he was sitting a little ways away with Kouda, nervously chewing his lips with his eyebrows perpetually furrowed in worry. That just served to piss Bakugou off. He couldn't drop that kind of friendship-ending bombshell and then have the audacity to worry about him. Everything he did was a mess of mixed emotions that Bakugou wanted no part of. He wished Kirishima had broken things off cleanly instead of half-assing his way through a shitty lie that made Bakugou’s mind whir through a trillion different scenarios, each one shittier than the last. Everything was shitty. Kirishima was shitty.
God, Bakugou felt so stupid. He couldn't believe that he had been going on and on about where the agency should be when Kirishima had been planning to say that the whole time. Why couldn't he have figured out that he wanted to “keep his options open” earlier? There’s no way he didn’t spend at least as much time as Bakugou in going through everything and making sure that they were both two hundred percent sure that opening an agency together was what they wanted to do before agreeing.
So it was definitely a lie. Which meant Bakugou had fucked up, and he didn’t even know how. And since he didn’t know how, there was a good chance he hadn’t done anything, and it was just him. He was the fuckup.
And boy, was that reason enough to avoid Kirishima.
After class, Bakugou got caught up with Sero and Ojirou, who had watched him and Uraraka fight and wanted to talk about aerial fighting. He was glad for the excuse to not walk with Kaminari and Ashido, because he knew that they would definitely drag Kirishima along with them. Uraraka left him with a light pat on the shoulder and a warm smile before traipsing off to find some post-training dessert. Probably.
“So you’re saying that you want to be like spiderman?” Ojirou asked excitedly. Sero nodded, grinning.
“Yeah man! Like, you guys know how he shoots his webs and then lets go, right? So he flings through the air and stuff? I haven’t really tried anything like that, so I was thinking I could get some tips from the two of you on how to move.”
“Not me,” Bakugou replied gruffly. “I use my blasts to control my movements, neither of you losers have anything like that. You're better off talking to Deku or Round Face.”
They pouted, but ran off to bother the two of them, leaving Bakugou alone. He quickly made his way to the locker rooms before the others—which wasn’t that hard, considering his entire class seemed to be incapable of not loitering everywhere they went—and had already changed back into his uniform when the rest of the boys arrived. He grunted in acknowledgement but didn't stop to chat. Well, he tried not to.
“Blasty!” Kaminari crowed. “Movie night on Friday at seven!”
“You’re supposed to phrase it as a question,” Bakugou snapped.
Kaminari rolled his eyes, but gave him a loose smile and two thumbs up. “Would thou care to participate in our dearest Class 3-A’s annual—”
“Weekly,” Deku corrected.
“—weekly movie evenings in three days' time?”
“Evening isn’t the formal word for night, idiot, they’re two different times,” Bakugou snarled. “And no.”
With that, he shoved his way through the complaining idiots, ignoring their quips about how he had crowned himself grammar police (which didn’t even make sense; the police weren’t crowned). There was a good chance he would go anyway, and he knew that they knew that. They knew him, as annoying as it was.
Back at the dorms, Bakugou sneakily left the room every time it looked like Kirishima was going to try and talk to him. Okay, maybe some of the times were more casual than others. What was he supposed to do when cornered in the kitchen other than loudly announce that he needed to pee? He ignored how sad Kirishima’s eyes would become every time he brushed him off, knowing that he was just trying to let Bakugou down slowly, which was stupid, because did he even know Bakugou? It baffled him how Kirishima kept trying to talk to him despite the fact that Bakugou very obviously wanted a clean break. He would prefer being cut off than some lame ass pity friendship.
The thought had him stopping cold in his tracks. Was that what their friendship was? Was that what it had always been? Was Kirishima finally sick of pretending, and decided to stop things before they could get too far, before he was forced into a contract with Bakugou that he didn't want?
Bakugou squatted, one hand on his doorknob, and the other covering his mouth. Not for the first time, he was grateful that his classmates stopped questioning his early bedtime. If anyone saw him like this—
They wouldn't. There was nothing to see, anyway. Bakugou was fine. Really, he should be thankful that Kirishima was pulling away now instead of leading Bakugou on like he would have been if they went through with the agency. Really, this was for the best. He had been a distraction, and now that Bakugou was finally free of him, he could focus on becoming number one like he had always wanted.
In the back of his mind, a small part of him reminded him that sometimes, when he looked at Kirishima, he could imagine a future where it didn't matter if he was number one or not. As long as he had Kirishima by his side, he would have been unstoppable. They would have been unstoppable.
Stupid. That dumb, lovestruck part of him had always been stupid.
Bakugou pulled himself up before taking a deep breath and finally opening the door. He was Bakugou fucking Katsuki, and he didn't need anyone.