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When the red string on Bakugou’s pinky finger began to pull, he knew he couldn’t ignore it any longer. The thread on his finger that supposedly connected him to his soulmate had been there for as long as he could remember, but now it had somehow grown a mind of its own and was fed up with how he was handling the situation.
It wasn’t Bakugou’s fault - anyone would freak out when they suddenly discovered their ‘soulmate’ just so happened to be their best friend. Kirishima had been sweet about it, but things were still awkward. Most of the time Bakugou could just ignore it, treat it like it was just a part of his body (such as a freckle or a scar).
I mean, it didn’t do much, just kinda looked pretty (especially on Kirishima, it fit his whole colour palette very nicely. And Bakugou supposed it complemented his own eyes too).
When you were training at a prestigious hero school, stuff like romance wasn’t a top priority (unless you were Dollar Store Pikachu, who had followed his string all the way to Eyebags as soon as he realised who was at the other end of it. They were a disgusting couple, flaunting their perfect relationship in everyone’s faces. And the pair were basically just a knock off version of Eyebags’ adoptive parents anyway).
So when the stubborn fucking string on Bakugou’s finger started tugging him to Shitty Hair, he was annoyed. Ignoring it had been fine. Distancing himself from Kiri had - well it had hurt - but it was for the best. It was just a hindrance, keeping him from doing what was really important, like training to be the next number one hero.
The whole thing probably made Hair-For-Brains uncomfortable anyway, so he was doing them both a favour by staying away. At least that’s what he thought, but apparently the thread had other ideas.
Bakugou had been in the showers when it first started pulling. He tried to hold his hand still, but the strength of it was no joke and it was painful if he resisted. He could see the thread stretching out of the bathroom and he stumbled trying to get out of the shower as it made him follow it.
It took a huge effort to oppose the yanking, and he barely managed to throw on his pants before he was being dragged down the hall, to Kiri’s room. Water clung to his bare torso, having struggled to even dry himself before he was ricocheting down the dorms.
“Shit shit shit fuck - stop!” He growled at the red string, but it paid him no heed. It insisted on pulling him all the way to the closed door separating Kirshima’s room from the world, and Bakugou slammed into it, groaning.
“Fuck!” The door blocked him from going inside, but his pinky throbbed from the insistent jerking. His face was smashed against the wood and the force shook droplets of water from his spiky hair.
Footsteps from inside the room sounded, coming closer to Bakugou. The door knob turned and Bakugou fell forward into the figure as the door swung open. They both toppled to the ground, and the string went slack.
“Shit - Bakugou? Are you okay?” The muffled voice of Kirishima came from beneath him, and Bakugou jumped up as quickly as possible. Kirishima looked him up and down, eyes lingering for longer than they should on his naked chest. He was probably uncomfortable. Bakugou self-consciously covered his stomach, crossing his arms in front of him.
“Did you just come from the shower?” Kirishima asked from the floor.
“Fucking obviously.”
Kirishima waited for an explanation of the whole situation. “So…?”
“Fucking crashed into your room,” Bakugou grunted. “Sorry for bothering you,” he added. He was not used to apologising to anyone, which made sense when the next thing he said was, “Your door was in the way. Fucking move it if you don’t want that to happen again.”
Kirishima laughed despite the awful apology. “What were you doing running into people’s door’s in the first place?”
Bakugou reddened. “None of your business, Shitty Hair.”
He stood in the doorway for a moment longer, contemplating whether to explain the real reason. I mean, it was Kirishima’s business too. The string thing. But he decided against it, turning and storming out of the room, ignoring any weak string action.
He felt irritated by the whole ordeal, for being rude to his apparent ‘soulmate’, for feeling so flustered and unfulfilled, for this fucking new affair the string had to decided to strike up. He was definitely going to look up the condition - maybe it was some sort of soulmate-string-malfunction. Maybe he was dying of a debilitating disease.
A few hours of research later, and it turned out that it was not, in fact, a life threatening issue, but a reaction to the inaction of stubborn soulmates in close proximity. It wasn’t that common, but definitely happened after a period of time. Bakugou was not pleased with this fact. He would have preferred it be something he could take a pill for, or it would just wear off.
But no, apparently one of them would have to make a move or the thread would just keep acting up that way forever, gradually getting worse. This new information put Bakugou in a very bad mood.
It wasn’t like he disliked Kirishima - far from it, he considered him his closest friend, ever - but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be in a relationship with him if he didn’t have romantic feelings for the redhead. And he was certain Kirishima didn’t anyway, he was just so chill and cool and perfect. He surely wouldn’t be attracted to an actual gremlin like Bakugou.
The bad mood lasted longer than it should have, and it was only heightened by the second string-related incident. It occurred just before class a few days after the shower-event, Bakugou had been particularly late waking up and threw on his uniform while he ran out the door.
As he made his way to the classroom, the string began to drag him along. He sped up, arm outstretched, pinky finger trembling from the tugging, letting it pull him down the halls. Apparently his speed-walk wasn’t fast enough for the damn red thread, and he was forced into a clumsy jog.
He complied with it’s demands but was completely fed up when it started making him literally sprint to Aizawa’s class. The door to the classroom was getting nearer and he tried (he really tried) to slow down, but the breakneck speed wasn’t faltering and it was lucky the door was open or he would have had a repeat of the first time.
Except it probably would have been better if all he’d done was collide with a hard door and broken his nose, because he hurtled into the room, yanked by the string, and was thrown into Kirishima’s desk. Exclamations from the other students were shouted and thankfully Frog Girl hadn’t been present or he would have taken her out as well.
He dived over the red head’s desk, falling to the ground next to Kiri’s chair in a heaving heap.
“Bro - you good?” Kirishima asked, looking both concerned and amused at the same time. “That was quite an entrance.”
Bakugou stood shakily as the string released most of its hold on him, his default angry expression assuming its position on his face. “I’m fucking fine, Hair-For-Brains.”
He trudged over to his desk heavily, sitting down with a huff. From behind him, Midoriya (the damn nerd) asked if he was alright. Bakugou ignored him.
Throughout the lesson, his finger continuously twitched toward Kirishima.
It took a great deal of strength to keep it in check, and he found Aizawa’s eyes wandering over to look at him with furrowed brows regularly. He caught many of the rest of the class glancing at him as well, because they had nothing better to do and it wasn’t everyday someone careered into the classroom and threw themselves at an unsuspecting classmate.
As the lesson drew to a close, Aizawa asked Bakugou to stay behind after class. Once the rest of the students left, Kirishima looking at him with an almost pitiful gaze, Bakugou sauntered over to Aizawa’s desk. The teacher looked exhausted as per usual, and actually yawned before he spoke.
“It appears you’re having some trouble with that soulmate string of yours.”
Bakugou jumped straight to denial. “Fuck you, I’m fine.”
“Language,” Aizawa said, reflexively. “If you are diving into my classroom of your own accord, I would suggest seeing a therapist. Actually, I would suggest one anyway, but I suspect it’s your red string.”
Bakugou glared at him, shooting daggers at the pro hero. “It’s none of your business.”
“It became my business when you interrupted class time with your problem,” he countered. “I think you should speak with Kirishima about it. Since the issue concerns both of you.”
“Well that’s presumptuous,” Bakugou mumbled.
Aizawa raised his eyebrows. “Am I wrong?”
Bakugou said nothing and stormed out, but not before hearing Aizawa mutter; “Over a decade with Mic and people still question my gaydar.”
He may be Bakugou’s favourite teacher (not that he would admit it) but he would be damned if he followed his advice. It wasn’t like Aizawa could actually see the string, no one apart from those attached to it could, but the fact that he’d figured it out made Bakugou wonder who else might have.
Probably Pink Cheeks, she was annoyingly perceptive about romantic problems. The bad mood worsened throughout the week, the string taking up all available headspace and concentration as Bakugou resisted it’s urges.
By the end of class on Friday he was sure everyone was avoiding him to escape him potentially lashing out. He also knew that by now word had spread and the eyes flickering between Bakugou and Kirishima were ceaseless. It made Bakugou want to bang his head against a wall.
Kirishima hadn’t been in class that day, which meant it took extra focus to keep himself seated and not following the whims of the string during class. At least he wasn’t being constantly distracted by the redhead.
As soon as the bell rang Bakugou was being swept out of his seat by the thread, finally yielding to its endeavours. His classmates looked on, perplexed but also not surprised, as he left before anyone else even stood up.
He gave in entirely to the pulling, jogging down the halls until he neared the part where his and Kirishima’s dorms were. He spotted Kirishima’s head of red hair, not spiked up like usual, seconds before they crashed into each other for what seemed like the millionth time.
Kirishima knocked him down outside their rooms, Bakugou falling flat on his back with his soulmate above him. They both groaned at the collision, but were relieved when the string stopped pulling them together.
“Wow, this is some serious deja vu. Except I’m on top this time,” Kirishima laughed, referring to the first incident.
Bakugou stared up at him, brows furrowed, face slowly going red. “The fuck you do that for?” He asked.
“What do you mean?” Kirishima looked slightly dazed. “My end of the string is just as bad, it tugged me into you.”
Bakugou averted his eyes, the close proximity made him feel uncomfortably warm.
“So it’s been acting up for you as well? Then how come you weren’t affected all those other times?”
Kirishima smiled. “It only started after you crashed into my door, but I can resist it. Maybe I’m just stronger than you,” he winked.
“Fuck off.”
Kirishima’s gaze bore holes into Bakugou’s face, and the blond shoved at his shoulder. “Get off of me, Shitty Hair.”
Kiri’s eyes widened and he scrambled away. “Sorry!” He offered a hand to Bakugou to get up but he didn’t accept it.
“Err…” Kirishima began. “Do you want to come inside? We should probably talk about it.” He gestured to his room.
Bakugou almost declined, but realised it would only get worse if they didn’t establish some sort of arrangement. He followed Hair-For-Brains into his dorm room, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. He’d been inside many times before the string became apparent but everything seemed different now.
“Sooo…” Kirishima sat down on his bed, motioning for Bakugou to join him. Bakugou reluctantly sat next to him, trying to keep as much space between them as possible.
“Fucking spit it out, Shitty Hair. What do we do?” Bakugou demanded. “I know that I’m not your ideal soulmate, but if we’re stuck with each other we need to sort out boundaries or whatever.”
Kirishima looked at him, a questioning expression on his face.
“What makes you think you aren’t a good soulmate?”
Bakugou huffed. “Well, I know you don’t like me like that, so if we just stay friends it’ll be fine.”
“You do realise I like you right?” Bakugou whipped his head around so fast at that. “I felt bad that you were attached to me because you don't even like me.”
Bakugou looked down at his lap, cheeks growing warmer.
“Maybe the string is platonic?” He suggested.
Kiri gave him a small, sad smile. “I don't think so. Because I like you romantically.”
Bakugou scoffed. “You’re probably just confusing friendship with attraction. There’s no way you would like me like that.”
“You gotta believe me dude! I think you’re so manly and cool,” he exclaimed.
“Yeah, well, that doesn’t prove anything.”
“What do you want me to say?” Kirishima asked. “That I think you’re actually really hot and I dream about kissing you? Because I do! Surely that’s proof enough.”
Bakugou’s face felt like it was on fire. How could he just say stuff like that? He opened his mouth but was lost for words. Kirishima actually was into this soulmate thing? It wasn’t just an irritation to him?
“I don’t…” Kirishima looked at him expectantly. “I don’t know how I feel about you.”
He wrung his hands together in his lap. Sure, they had been best friends for years, but Bakugou hadn’t even entertained the thought of being more, even with the soulmate string. Kirishima was just… Kirishima to him. He’d never felt closer to anyone else.
“Well, you don’t hate me right?”
“No, of course not, Shitty Hair, did crashing into me make you lose some fucking brain cells?” Bakugou growled with embarrassment about the whole situation.
The redheads' bright laughter filled the room. “That’s a start!”
Bakugou didn’t say anything. He had thousands of things he wanted to say at the tip of his tongue but he had too much pride to let them out. He internally kicked himself for it. If he was going to sort out this whole thing he had to actually communicate.
If his (reluctant) sleepovers with Raccoon Eyes had taught him anything, it was that miscommunications often ended in tragedy (he could thank her extensive romance/drama film collection for that). He forced himself to voice one of his many questions.
“How do you… know that you like me? Fucking, romantically, that is, Hair-For-Brains.”
Kirishima’s broad, toothy grin eased, and his demeanour grew softer.
“Hmm, what a question, Explosion Boy!”
“Fucking - don’t call me that, Shitty Hair.” Bakugou felt like he might die from the heat.
“You’re one to talk!” Kirishima chuckled. “I suppose it became apparent when I dreamt about you for the first time. I am definitely not going into detail, but it was pretty obvious.”
Kirishima was fucking shameless. And Bakugou found that he didn’t mind.
“Also, I just feel happy everytime we’re together.” Bakugou could relate to that. “And I think about you all the time -” He also did that. “And I feel like I would probably die if I never saw you again.” Well that seemed a bit overkill, but Bakugou would definitely feel more sad about him than anyone else in his life, even his family.
“Shit…” Bakugou murmured under his breath.
“Was that helpful?” Kirishima asked
“Fucking, I don’t know, Shitty Hair, I’m more of a hands on learner.” As soon as he realised what that sounded like he tried to take it back. “Wait fuck- I didn’t-”
Kirishima tilted his head slightly and met his eyes. “Want to find out? Just to see if you like me too, of course.”
He really did want to test the theory. But he was also terrified that it would be terrible and they would never talk again. None of that anxiety showed on his face, though, to the outside world he just looked angry. But Kirishima could decipher his expressions, and took Bakugou’s hands in his.
“It’s okay, dude. It’s only bros helping bros if you hate it. This is just like sparring, but with mouths.” Bakugou couldn’t help but laugh at the terrible analogy.
“Fucking… fine. Just for research.”
“Yeah?”
“I fucking said yeah already, Shitty Hair.”
Kiri leaned in ever so slightly, glancing up at Bakugou to ensure that he was okay with it. When their lips touched, it felt like fire. And Bakugou liked it. It was familiar and new at the same time, it was like his explosions, powerful and surprisingly delicate. He pushed further into the redhead, then abruptly stopped, leaning back to take a breath. Kirishima looked afraid at the sudden loss of touch.
“I’m so sorry that was so selfish of me - I just really wanted to kiss you, I have for so long. That was so not manly taking advantage of the situation like that!” A string of apologetic words erupted from Kirishima, as Bakugou tried to process the experience. It had been… good. Like, really good.
The kiss had felt so right and better than anything he’d ever felt. Bakugou took a hold of the back of Kirishima’s neck and pressed their lips together again. Kiri let out a small sound of surprise but decided that he wouldn’t argue.
Bakugou kissed him like he might die if he stopped, as soon as he’d realised that it was what he wanted. How had he been so oblivious to his own emotions? And here Kiri was, pining after him as Bakugou just dismissed his feelings and avoided him? He felt like an idiot. Which was why he needed to make it up to him. He licked Kiri’s lips through the kiss, and his soulmate parted them, gasping, then pulled away.
“Woah there, Bakubro!” He was smiling as he said it, extinguishing any guilt he felt. “How about we talk about this first?”
“We already fucking talked,” Bakugou grumbled.
“Yes, well, that was before you tried to stick your tongue in my mouth after you denied being attracted to me,” he teased.
“How long have you liked me for?” Bakugou asked.
“I think the question here is, how long have you been ignoring your true feelings?”
“You can’t fucking ignore feelings you didn’t know where there, Hair-For-Brains,” Bakugou countered.
“So you only just figured out you liked me?”
Bakugou thought about it. If he were honest with himself, this didn’t feel any different to how he normally felt around Kirishima. Except now kissing was an option.
“You answer first,” he said.
“I’ve liked you since before the string appeared! Maybe it wasn’t always romantic, but the potential was always there!” Kirishima confirmed.
“Shit, that was years ago,” Bakugou breathed. “And you were just sad this whole time that I didn’t like you back? Could have fucking told me.”
“I wasn’t sad, because you were my best friend.”
“Cheesy fucker.”
“You have a crush on this cheesy fucker,” Kirishima responded.
Bakugou couldn’t bear to look at him, he was too bright and alive.
“What happens now?” He asked, without making eye contact.
“Well I was thinking we could kiss some more, since you seemed into that and I’ve wanted to for years,” Kirishima stated.
“No, Shitty Hair, I mean with the string,” Bakugou said. They both looked down at their hands, red thread shining between them.
“I don’t think it’ll pull us anymore, Momo and Jirou don’t have that problem.”
“Wait, Ponytail Girl and Ears are together?”
“You didn’t know?” Kirishima asked, incredulous.
“I was busy trying not to fucking crash into any more doors,” Bakugou mumbled.
“They got together way before that, but it was so funny when you flew into the classroom and over my desk!”
Bakugou rolled his eyes, grumbling. “Not as funny when you almost break your nose doing so. And Aizawa came and gave me the talk afterwards.”
“Hold on - the talk?” Kiri’s eyes were wide with hilarity.
“No, Shitty Hair! He just figured out we were connected and told me to go to therapy,” Bakugou grunted.
“Oh my god that must be why he actually gave me the talk!”
“Wait WHAT?” Bakugou’s ears were a vivid red at the idea of Aizawa telling Kirishima how to wrap it.
“It was so funny, like actual gold. You could tell he’d already been through it all with Shinsou after he and Kaminari got together.”
Bakugou groaned at the new information, remembering the conversation he’d had at the ripe age of thirteen with his mother after she’d found his soiled underwear. It had been a traumatic experience.
Bakugou decided to smash mouths with Kirishima again, rather than have to think about that. Kirishima’s sharp teeth were very interesting to kiss, and his lips were surprisingly soft. Bakugou had particularly dry lips, and he felt bad about it, making a mental note to buy himself some lip balm if this was going to become a regular occurrence.
The way their lips melted together left him breathless, and when Kirishima actually opened his mouth against his, he almost fainted. He wanted to know everything about the guy he’d accidentally fallen in love with, from the inside out.
“So are we like, boyfriends now?” Kirishima asked when they parted.
“Pretty sure we’re supposed to be soulmates.”
“Eh, same thing. So is that a yes?” He looked at him, beaming.
“Sure, Shitty Hair.”