Chapter Text
“Aren’t you supposed to be concentrating?”
Katsuki blinks and looks around. Kirishima raises his eyebrow at him across the table, coffee cup suspended in his hand.
“I am concentrating, Ei,” he snaps back, snatching up his own cup and taking a drink, grimacing as it scalds his mouth. Kirishima smothers a snort of laughter and ducks to avoid Katsuki’s hand.
“I thought you said this was your favorite study spot,” he says, trying to distract Katsuki from swatting him.
“It is, duh, that’s why I told you to come here to help you study for your Calc exam.”
“Well,” he continues, squinting at him in mock suspicion, “You’ve been more distracted sitting here than any of the times we’ve studied in the library. What gives?”
Katsuki can’t stop himself from glancing over to a table by the window, mostly hidden by a huge potted plant. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Unfortunately, the smarts that his friend lacks in school he more than makes up for in common sense and perceptiveness. He follows Katsuki’s gaze to where it had landed on a mop of silver curls just sticking up over the vibrant green leaves. The owner of said curls is out of sight, but Ei doesn't need to see them to put two and two together. Katsuki bites down on the inside of his cheek as his friend turns to him with the most infuriatingly smug expression on his face.
“Well well-“
“Not another goddamn word, shitty hair,” Katsuki growls quietly, throwing as much withering heat as he could into his glare. In truth, Katsuki’s outgrown the mean nicknames that he had given his friends a long time ago. They had faded out as his respect and affection for them had grown and he had kicked the habit of being the asshole that he had been when he’d met his hero classmates. But every so often they fly out of his mouth when he gets annoyed. Or in this case, flustered. He feels his ears go warm at the sight of Kirishima grinning delightedly at him.
“My man, my dude, my bro, if you wanted help from me you could’ve just said so!”
“That’s not,” Katsuki hisses, leaning forward, “What I want.”
“Come on,” Ei mimics his posture, also lowering his voice, “I noticed him earlier too when we walked in. He radiates confident twink energy. I could totally be your wingman! Come on, he’s cute as hell and has an adorable smile. What’s holding you back??”
“Because I knew hi-“ the confession flies out of Katsuki’s mouth before he can stop it. He leans back again, feeling the rest of his face burning. Kirishima doesn’t move, waiting patiently.
“I- You know I’ve told you a little bit of what I was like in middle school,” Katsuki says, lowering his eyes to a circular stain on the table. “And you know what I was like when we first met. But I haven’t really told you a lot... There was this boy. We knew each other when we were kids. Our parents were friends and all that shit. He was in my grade. We knew each other since diapers. He wanted to be a hero, same as me, except… he was quirkless.”
He doesn’t miss how Kirishima stiffins slightly. But he can’t stop now. “He would keep all these notebooks of heroes and quirks and analyses and such- he wanted to be a hero so bad and I-“
Katsuki bites back an old emotion that he thought he had buried a long time ago.
Stupid, worthless, bully. Piece of trash. Can’t be a true hero if you create the need for heroes in the first place. How can-
“Hey,” Kirishima taps Katsuki’s hand gently, “You’re letting the intrusive thoughts win again.”
He hates that Ei can read him so well, but it comes with the territory of having such a longtime friend. He nods curtly.
“Anyways," he growls, "basically I thought that he was worthless and tormented him for having goals. And the other kids were so scared of me that they either avoided him too so they wouldn’t get bullied by association or they tormented him themselves. We would use our quirks on him cuz he was the perfect punching bag. One that could never hit back, because the teachers would just blame him for it. Not that they did a damn thing to help him anyways. He switched schools during our 8th grade year if that gives you any idea of how fucking bad it was. I haven’t seen him since.” Katsuki hesitates, searching for the words to say.
Ei tilts his head. "And the guy that's arrested your attention all day..."
Katsuki glances over again to the figure hidden by the potted monstera.
“... is the same boy you grew up with…” His friend’s tone is gentle but Katsuki knows that he’s turning all this new information in his head, trying to fit it into his perception of him. Painting that villainous streak of Katsuki’s right across the front of his mind. Maybe now he’ll realize just how unworthy of being a hero Katsuki really is and he’ll stop bugging him about why he dropped out of the hero course. Maybe now he’ll understand how bad of a decision it is for an up and coming hero like Red Riot to be seen skulking about with the likes of him. Maybe he’ll finally realize that Katsuki’s just dead weig-
“Katsan,” Kirishima’s voice rouses him from his thoughts. “I see you.”
Katsuki finally looks his friend in the eyes, and sees nothing but affection.
I don’t deserve you.
He takes a drink from his tea to try and dispel the moment.
“So has he been coming here long or did he just start?” Ei asks.
“He’s been coming here longer than I have. I only started coming here recently and he knows the baristas by name.”
“Are you planning on talking to him at all?”
Katsuki flinches slightly. “No, I don’t think he’d like to talk to me. It would probably just stir up some bad memories.”
“But do YOU want to talk to him?” Kirishima asks pointedly, taking a sip of his coffee.
Katsuki doesn't answer.
“Have you talked to your therapist about it?”
Katsuki grinds his teeth and stares hard at the stain on the table again. He hears Kirishima sigh.
“You know that’s what the therapist is for right?
“I fucking know,” he snaps, then winces. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, man, I’m not hurt. I’ve got pretty thick skin, you know.”
Katsuki blinks up at his friend in surprise and sputters out a laugh at the shit-eating grin on his face.
“Promise me something though, please?” Ei's smile drops into as his gaze sharpens.
Katsuki frowns at the sudden serious tone. “What is it?”
“Talk to your therapist about it. At least a little bit.”
He hates that he cares so much about him. “Okay, I promise.”
-----
“I passed my exam!” Eijirou hurls himself into the chair across from Bakugo, who snaps his head up from his textbook. He feels a little bad for yanking his friend out of the concentration zone but this is important. He grins across the table.
“Well done,” Bakugo says after a moment, “and to think you only had two mental breakdowns studying for it.”
“That’s not important,” Eijirou waves off the light jab, “What’s important is that I don’t have to worry about another one for at least a month!”
Bakugo rolls his eyes disparagingly and gets up. “I’ll ignore that for now. Coffee’s on me today. Congratulations treat.”
“Aw thanks!” Eijirou watches him go up to the counter. He seems to be in a better mood today. Hopefully he had a good conversation with his therapist.
Eijirou has watched all his classmates grow and change throughout their high school years and beyond. But none have changed more than Bakugo. He’s seen his friend learn some hard lessons and gotten to see him grow from them. But, he still worries him from time to time.
Okay a lot more than time to time. Ever since just before he decided not to pursue hero work after high school ended, actually. After everything that they had gone through to get their provisional licenses and get pro heroes to sponsor their University Sidekick Programs while they were earning a social work degree (thank you, new hero regulations), he just walked away. Without ever saying why. Mr. Aizawa must have had a talk with him at least; he’s not the type of teacher to just ignore something like that. But every time one of his classmates had asked, he would clam up and refuse to talk to them for a while. Eventually people just stopped asking.
Eijirou looks around absently as he waits for his friend and his coffee, eyes eventually falling upon a familiar head of silver hair. The owner of said hair is sitting at a table along the side wall, absorbed in his laptop. He's pretty lean, with deep green eyes and freckles scattered across his skin. Eijirou blinks as he notices dark green hair growing out of his roots. The effect of dark against light makes him look sort of like a phantom.
The phantom glances up at the line and looks at Bakugo and Eijirou’s heart sputters to a halt. He waits for a reaction: shock, horror, excitement, anything; hardly daring to breathe. The phantom stares at Bakugou for a moment, then goes back to his work. Eijirou looks back and forth at the two for a couple moments, trying to get his bearings again. Does the phantom… recognize Bakugou? But then…
Eijirou starts to feel like he stumbled into the middle of a drawn out game of chicken, where the players are trying to see how long they can occupy the same space without acknowledging that they know the other. He bites his lip trying not to smile.
Is it his business? Probably not.
Does he want to be there when they inevitably have to acknowledge each other and possibly spill years worth of repressed feelings and end up dramatically confessing their love? Absolutely.
Does that make him a bit of a drama hoe? Maybe…
His train of thought is abruptly derailed when a cup of coffee is set down in front of him. He jumps in spite of himself.
“Thanks, Katsan!” He says, then winces at the abnormal pitch. Bakugou simply raises an eyebrow and sits back down.
“I won’t be able to hang out on Thursday night,” he says, propping up his head with his fist.
Eijirou gapes. “Seriously Katsan? My dude. This is the third time you’ve skipped out on us. Everyone else is wondering where you’re at. Mina told me that if you do it again she’ll bust down your dorm door and drag you out herself.” They were going to go to an all you can eat buffet then hang out at the apartment that Kirishima, Sero, and Kaminari rent together. Sero said that he’d even convinced his older sister to sneak him some tequila. Mina was going to kill him for not bringing Bakugou. Or sabotage the soles of his shoes with her acid. Both would be something that she would do.
Bakugou just shrugs. “I’ve got a chem exam on Friday. I need to study.”
Eijirou looks at the open textbook and sees a chemistry-looking diagram. “You’re studying for it already though. Come on, you grind too much. You gotta have some fun too.”
But his friend just reaches up and turns his hearing aids off while pointedly making eye contact. Point taken. Eijirou may be a pro hero, but that doesn’t stop him from sticking his tongue out in retaliation.