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As much as Bakugo hated cold weather, he was relieved for the downpour of rain that afternoon, finally breaking the stifling heatwave over the past two days. He stepped out of the school’s north building, heading back towards the dorms. Popping open his umbrella, he watched as a few classmates ran passed him, covering their heads with their school jackets. A couple of girls squealed as they splashed in a nearby puddle.
Looking down the path, he saw bounding towards him a soaking wet Kirishima. His jacket covered his head, as he most likely forgot an umbrella. His hair clung to his skin, seemingly not having thought about covering his head until he was already drenched. Kirishima wasn’t looking up, but trying his best to avoid puddles and other oncoming students.
“Kirishima!” Bakugo yelled when the red head came in to earshot. The sudden exclamation startled Kirishima, halting him in a dead stop to look around him to see who called his name. The smile that lit up his face ignited a warmth inside Bakugo.
“Bakugo! Hey, man!” Kirishima stepped closer, raising his jacket so his eyes had a clear view of Bakugo. Lifting his arms also lifted his untucked shirt, exposing a sliver of his stomach. Bakugo looked away.
“What are you doing, dumbass?” Bakugo tilted his umbrella back, starting to feel the rain soaking in to his sneakers.
“I forgot something in class that I need. Just running back to grab it,” Kirishima explained.
“Where the hell is your umbrella? Didn’t you just get over being sick?” Bakugo scolded.
Kirishima’s smile dissipated into a pout. Bakugo sighed, extending the umbrella higher to shield Kirishima’s head. The rain splattered Bakugo’s hair; he felt the chill of the cold water tumbling down his neck.
“Take it,” Bakugo grumbled. Kirishima looked up, lowering his jacket to hold in one hand as his other reached out for the umbrella handle.
“Come back with me. I won’t be long,” Kirishima’s smile returned. Whether Kirishima had realized his smile was able to convince Bakugo to do anything, Bakugo was unsure. But he relinquished the umbrella to Kirishima, waiting the brief moment until he turned to start walking back, Bakugo turning to keep step beside him. With Kirishima being just a couple inches taller, he easily held cover above both heads, keeping the rain from slipping down either one. Bakugo only realized he was starring at Kirishima’s skin, glistening wet, when he saw his mouth moving, not hearing his words. Bakugo blinked heavily, refocusing his brain.
“…and I really don’t want to. But I can’t say no to her, y’know? She’s one of my best friends and I just want to make her happy. And she’s just trying to make me happy. So I’m going to just do it, I think.”
“What are you talking about?” Bakugo asked. He kept his gaze forward, avoiding the opportunity to stare again.
“Bro, you’ve got to pay attention,” Kirishima laughed.
“What the fuck were you saying, Kirishima?” Bakugo repeated.
“Mina. Setting me up. You know, on a date.” Bakugo faltered in his step at the word ‘date’, but was able to regain his pace quickly enough that Kirishima didn’t notice.
“Right,” Bakugo cleared his throat, attempting to maintain an air of nonchalance. “And you’re going?”
“Yeah. Tonight. Do you think I shouldn’t go?” Kirishima seemed nervous as he glanced over at Bakugo. They were close to the outside the main building. Kirishima handed the umbrella back to Bakugo.
“Of course. Go. You’ll have fun.” Bakugo mumbled. Bakugo watched as Kirishima ducked under the edge of the umbrella, sprinting the last few feet to the door. Bakugo could have sworn he saw him frowning.
Bakugo kept walking until he made his way under the awning of the front entrance. He shook out the umbrella, dropping it on the ground as he waited. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through until he saw Midoriya’s contact, opening the message app.
‘What are you doing now?’ Bakugo typed furiously. Only a brief moment passed before a message appeared back.
‘At the dorms. Common room. Why?’
‘What are you doing tonight?’
‘Shoto and I hanging out. WHY?’
‘No reason’
Bakugo shoved his phone back in his pocket. He wanted a distraction. He thought Midoriya could help, but the two dumbasses together would drive him crazy. He had to be with them nearly the entire first year of school; in class and at work study. He had no desire to voluntarily submit to their company if he wasn’t being forced to. Although, the alternative was sitting in his room alone. Bakugo shook his head. Yep, that was the better offer. Alone. Until his mind would start to wander. He would start thinking about Kirishima picking up…whoever Mina set him up with. He would think about Kirishima’s nervous smile, maybe them holding hands. Kirishima laughing at a joke they made.
Bakugo clenched his fists. He dug into his pocket again, this time with more ferocity. He aggressively typed to Midoriya again.
‘I’ll be there.’
The moment he shoved his phone away, without waiting for a response, he felt Kirishima’s hand grip his shoulder. With his other hand he held up a thick textbook, his smile coaxing out whatever tension Bakugo had been feeling just a fraction of a moment ago.
“Got it! Let’s get back.” Kirishima bent over to grab the umbrella handle. Bakugo fell in to step easily beside Kirishima. They walked closely together, Kirishima’s bare arm rubbing against Bakugo’s jacket. Bakugo tried his best to keep focus, regretting his momentary spiral. He shouldn’t care what Kirishima was doing tonight. Or who he was doing it with. He was his friend. He should be happy Kirishima was having fun. Even if it wasn’t with him. But a part of him felt bitter that someone else would be getting Kirishima’s attention and he would be stuck with IcyHot and Deku, listening to them discuss whatever arbitrary topic they landed on tonight.
“What do you think?” Kirishima paused. Fuck! Bakugo wasn’t paying attention.
“Yeah,” Bakugo hoped that his response was good enough to convince Kirishima he wasn’t distracted having a battle of inner turmoil.
“So down’s okay? I’m just nervous it’ll look sloppy.” Kirishima frowned, running his hand through his hair. Bakugo realized Kirishima’s red hair was flat, and not because of the rain. He hadn’t been spiking his hair recently. Was Kirishima asking him for hairstyling advice?
“You hair? It looks good, Kirishima.” Bakugo cleared his throat. “It looks shitty either way; down or up. Whatever. Wear it however you want.” Bakugo shoved both his hands in his pockets as they neared the dorms.
“Well, I want to wear it spiked. I think it looks more manly that way. But I can’t. It’s too long. It doesn’t hold anymore. And I don’t have time for Mina to cut it before tonight.”
“I’ll cut it.” Bakugo didn’t comprehend why those words, in that order, came out of his mouth. Tough shit, man. Too bad, Kirishima. Not my problem. All more reasonable options than what he actually said. But the brightness that illuminated Kirishima’s face in that moment washed away any regret Bakugo had.
“Seriously? Oh, wow. Bakugo, that’s… so awesome. Can you do it now?” Kirishima got to the main entrance of the dorms first, holding open the door for Bakugo while he shook out the umbrella, collapsing it before following a Bakugo inside.
“Yeah. Have a bath first; warm up. You’re soaked and I’m not taking care of you again if you get another cold.” Bakugo grumbled. He grabbed his umbrella, veering away from Kirishima to head towards the common room.
Midoriya, catching view of Bakugo entering the dorms, jumped up, waving his phone as if wanting to continue their digital conversation. Bakugo sighed, making a conscious effort to not turn around to see if Kirishima had headed towards to baths. He leaned over the back of the couch so Midoriya could sit down again beside Uraraka. They had finally started to officially date after the chaos of last year. As much as Bakugo didn’t care, he was impressed the nerd could land Uraraka. She was badass, and too good for him. But Bakugo noticed, especially in quiet moments like this, how she looked at Midoriya with a starry gaze.
“You’re the worst person to talk to sometimes,” Midoriya said with exasperation.
“Shut up, Midoriya,” Bakugo playfully rubbed Midoriya’s head, messing up the flop of hair. He swatted away Bakugo’s hand with a grimace on his face.
“What happened? What do you need?” Midoriya’s concern dripped from his voice.
“Nothing, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” Bakugo did his best to smile. It only resulted in Midoriya tilting his head in response, not buying what Bakugo was trying to pass off as nonchalant.
“Does it have to do with Kirishima?” Uraraka’s sudden contribution aggravated Bakugo. He whipped his head to face her, gritting his teeth.
“No. Why the fuck would you say that?”
“Two reasons. One, you guys just came in together so you were obviously with Kirishima when you were texting Izuku…and Kirishima has a date tonight, so….” Uraraka held up two fingers pointedly. “And two! You reacted just now with such hostility, Kacchan.”
Her teasing hit a bit too close to home. He grimaced at her, stomping away from the couch to head back to his room. When he was out of ear shot, Midoriya turned to Uraraka.
“What was that all about?” Midoriya poked at his girlfriend. She giggled before pushing him away.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Bakugo was in love with Kirishima,” Uraraka said. Midoriya froze, eyes widening.
“Wait,” he whispered. “Do you know Kacchan is gay?”
“I just thought…I honestly thought he was just in love with Kirishima and hated everyone else,” Uraraka smiled. “He never told me he’s gay.”
“Yeah, he is. I mean…shit. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not my place if he didn’t tell you himself.” Midoriya felt a surge of guilt, looking behind him as if Bakugo would appear. Uraraka reached over, gently touching Midoriya’s arm.
“It’s okay. You didn’t say anything I didn’t already assume. Do you know…if I’m right?” Uraraka squeezed Midoriya’s arm, excited at the prospect of her intuition being spot on.
“I don’t know for sure. He never told me he has feelings for Kirishima. But, I would bet my Golden Age All Might figure that he does. I just wonder how long it’ll take for Kacchan to realize it. And then…for him to get the balls to confess.” Midoriya smiled at the thought of his friend finally being as happy as he was feeling now. “Wait…you said Kirishima has a date tonight?”
“Yeah. Mina set him up. Again. I think this is the third one this year. She’s tireless. But she’s just wants to see him happy. I think this time it’s someone from the support course. Tanaka? I don’t know…one of Hatsume’s friends.” Uraraka stopped herself when she saw the concern on Midoriya’s face.
“Shit,” he mumbled, looking back behind him sympathetically, as if being able to still see Bakugo.
———————-
Bakugo stood in the middle of his room. His bed was made that morning, the curtains were wide open, although not letting in much daylight with the gloom of the rain clouds overtaking the horizon. He had kicked a small pile of laundry into his closet before shutting the door. He grabbed his desk chair, a simple wooden square chair that was entirely too uncomfortable to work on. He barely found himself studying at his desk, rather opting to lay out his notes and books over his bed, or head to the large library on campus.
He placed the chair in the middle of his room, facing the full length mirror propped against the wall beside the door, just as a knock came.
“Yeah,” Bakugo yelled, assuming the person knocking was Kirishima. A flop of wet, red hair popped in a small opening of the door before entering fully. Kirishima had obviously come right from the baths; he wore baggy, grey pyjama pants and a loose black shirt. He still had a towel around his neck and shuffled in to Bakugo’s room wearing white slippers.
“Hey, I can’t thank you enough for doing this.” Kirishima’s smile was contagious; Bakugo smiled back as he entered his room. “I can’t believe I didn’t know you knew how to do this.”
“I don’t,” Bakugo said point blank, motioning for Kirishima to sit.
“You don’t? So why did you offer?” Kirishima cautiously sat in the chair, looking nervously up at Bakugo.
“You needed help. Besides, if Ashido can do it, how hard can it be?” Bakugo tisked his tongue, turning to reach for the scissors on his desk. When he turning around, Kirishima had pulled the towel down to his lap, staring intently at his hands. Bakugo could see in the mirror he had a small smile. He cleared his throat, going in to touch Kirishima’s hair, but pausing just inches before his hand touched his head.
How do I do this? Bakugo thought. He barely cared when he got his own haircut, so he never paid attention to how it worked. Where was he supposed to start? How much was he supposed to cut off?
“Mina normally starts at the bottom and works her way up. You don’t need to cut too much off.” As if he could read Bakugo’s mind, Kirishima spoke, looking at Bakugo’s confused expression through the mirror.
“Yeah, I got it,” Bakugo smirked. Kirishima reached in to his pocket, pulling out a long, black clip.
“Here, use this.” Bakugo grabbed the clip, setting the scissors down for a moment while he went to pull the top layer of Kirishima’s hair back. He ran his two index fingers from the front of his head around the crown, dividing a large section of hair and twirling it, shoving the clip in place. He let go hesitantly, waiting to see if everything would stay in place. It did.
Bakugo grabbed the scissors, moving to hold a section of Kirishima’s hair between his index and middle finger. He pulled down, straightening the strands until his fingers were an inch above the ends. Cutting quickly, the hair fell to the floor. Easy. This would be easy. Bakugo already felt confident. He grabbed the next small section, working his way around the one layer. Kirishima remained quiet, his head slightly bent forward and Bakugo noticed his eyes were closed. His fingers gripped the towel in his lap. Was he nervous? Did he not trust I can do this? Bakugo scoffed. He was doing fine.
He finished with the bottom layer and pulled out the black clip, tossing it into Kirishima’s lap. The motion caused Kirishima to lift his head to look in the mirror straight on. His gaze fell on Bakugo, who placed the scissors down as he examined the next step. Without thinking, Bakugo dragged all of his fingers through Kirishima’s hair, starting at his forehead and massaging back to the nape of his neck. A quiet, short moan escaped Kirishima, causing Bakugo to pull away. They both cleared their throats at the same time, Bakugo picking up the scissors again, attempting to refocus.
He wanted to do that again. Fuck, why did that feel so good? Bakugo felt his heart racing and took a deep breath to slow himself.
“Why are you doing this?” Kirishima’s voice seemed far away. He wasn’t normally this quiet.
“What do you mean?” Bakugo flippantly said, as he kept his fingers moving, keeping himself focussed on the task.
“You didn’t have to do this.” Bakugo lightly pushed Kirishima’s head in response.
“It’s a little late for that now,” Bakugo laughed. Kirishima wasn’t as jovial. “I’ll stop. If you want me to.”
“It’s not that. You’re doing fine. I want you to keep going,” Kirishima held up his hands defensively, finally for the first time since sitting down did he let go of the towel. “I just don’t know why you’re doing this. It’s…not like you.”
There it was. When Kirishima finally spoke those words, it became apparent to Bakugo why this felt so strange. The quiet moments, the touching, even having Kirishima in his room. This was all unlike him. Bakugo panicked in his attempt at an answer.
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.” Bakugo tried to play his answer off as coy, but even he could hear the wavering of his voice.
“Doubtful, bro. I’m just saying…you’re being awfully nice.”
“You asked me to do this. So I’m helping a friend. Am I that much of an asshole that it would be so shocking?” Bakugo put the scissors down.
“I didn’t…you volunteered, Bakugo.”
Bakugo took a step back. Right. Kirishima never actually asked for help. It didn’t matter, Bakugo resounded to himself. But why did he offer? Why would he help Kirishima to prepare for…a date? Yes, a date. Kirishima was going on a date. Why was Bakugo helping? Why was he bothered so much?
“Yeah, right,” Bakugo mumbled. Too much was swimming around in his head to give a succinct answer. “Umm…I guess, we’re done then.” They were clearly not done. Bakugo had maybe another half of Kirishima’s hair to trim, but the constant swirl of bombarding questions clouded Bakugo’s judgment. He needed to leave.
Bakugo moved around the chair, grabbing hold of the doorknob and yanking the door open. Just before slamming it closed behind him, he called back to Kirishima; “Have fun on your date.”
Bakugo didn’t wait for Kirishima to come after him. He was thankful when he made it to the staircase alone, taking two steps at a time to get as far away from his floor as possible. Only when he hit the main level did he realize he threw himself out of his own room. Entering the bustle of a full common room was not his ideal situation, but the hum of his classmates preparing to make dinner distracted him from the last words out of his mouth.
Bakugo was pissed Kirishima was dating.
Fuck, no. Why would that irritate him so much? Like Kirishima had said, Mina was setting him up because she wanted to see him happy. So why didn’t Bakugo want to see him happy?
“Bakugo!” Jirou grabbed Bakugo’s shirt collar, yanking him down the corridor.
“What the fuck, Kyo!” He spun around, wrapping his arms around her tiny waist and lifting her up. She wiggled out of his grasp quick enough, pushing him away.
“I need to talk to you about something,” Jirou kept slapping his arm as he kept nudging her away from him.
“Don’t grab my shirt like that. You’ll fucking ruin it.” Bakugo gave her one last push, before tagging behind her away from the kitchen.
“It’s a garbage shirt. Get better taste.” She flopped herself down in an armchair near two large bay windows. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still grey.
“What the fuck do you want?” Bakugo remained standing, prepared to leave if he didn’t want to continue the conversation with her.
“It’s about the summer festival. Present Mike is asking me questions about what we’re going to be doing, and I absolutely don’t want to be the one to make decisions.” Jirou groaned. As the front person of their makeshift “band”, Jirou was constantly being bothered by the teachers with requests to contribute to class events. She hated it. So did Bakugo.
“Fuck it, then. Get Yaoyorozu to do it.” Bakugo crossed his arms, looking for the out to their conversation.
“She’s away this week, remember? And he wants an answer-“
“Kyo! I don’t give a fuck! Do it, don’t do it! Whatever. Give me a day and time, I’ll show up, but I’m not fixing this problem for you!” Bakugo couldn’t hold in his frustration any longer. He glared down at Jirou, her eyes wide as he yelled. She stood up slowly; Bakugo expected her to bolt down the hall. Instead she pointed at the other chair in front of her.
“Sit down.” Her voice was low and calm. Bakugo huffed as he took a seat, his arms still crossed. She sat again, leaning in so she didn’t have to raise her voice.
“What is wrong with you?”
“Why does everyone keep thinking something is wrong with me?” Bakugo shot back.
“Maybe that’s your first clue that something is off.”
“Nothing is off, okay? Everything in my life is perfect.” Bakugo shifted, lifting one leg to hang over the armrest. His arms stayed crossed as he slouched down. They sat in silence, the quiet becoming more comfortable as time stretched on. It could have been ten minutes, it could have been twenty. Bakugo just starred out the window, watching beads of moisture pooling on the glass and trickle down.
“What’s bugging you?” Jirou finally tested the waters. Her poking aggravated Bakugo. What was worse, is that he knew what was bugging him. But he wouldn’t dare say it out loud. Otherwise, he could convince himself it was a stupid thought that would vanish by morning.
He looked the other way, suddenly meeting a view he would have rather missed. Mina was walking beside Kirishima, both of them smiling as they neared the door. His hair wasn’t spiked. Instead, it was tied back in a low, loose bun. He wore dark jeans and a khaki hoodie. He looked casual, but good. Bakugo felt a small tinge of guilt for not finishing the haircut.
“Huh,” Jirou’s voice chirped in Bakugo’s ear. “Did Mina set up Kirishima with another loser?”
“What do you mean?” Bakugo tore his glance away from Kirishima as he was vanishing out the front door, Mina dancing away excited by the prospect of a successful matchmaking.
“I mean, she can’t get it right with that boy. She’s tried a few times to set him up. Someone from the business course. Someone from their old middle school, I think. And this time it’s one of Hatsume’s friends. Y’know, the girl from support course?” Bakugo stared blankly as Jirou continued. “She’s tried the smart guy. The childhood friend guy. Now I think she’s going for the edgy guy. Nothing’s stuck. She usually really good at set ups.”
“Well, maybe she should fucking stop!” Bakugo’s aggression landed on Jirou with deaf ears.
“Maybe he should stop going,” Jirou posited.
“He’s just being nice. He’s trying to make her happy. It’s fucking ridiculous.”
“Bakugo…” Jirou coaxed. He wasn’t sure why she turned the attention back on to him.
“What?” He grimaced.
“Why are you so mad?” She looked down at his hands, gripping the armrests of the chair, his knuckles turning white. He immediately let go after realizing what he was doing.
“I’m not mad.” He lied.
“Bakugo…” She said again.
“Stop it, Kyo.” He swallowed down a lump in his throat.
“You know, when I saw Denki-“
“No! This isn’t that. This isn’t…like you and Kaminari. I don’t…” Bakugo stopped himself from saying the word. He could still deny it if he didn’t say it out loud.
“You don’t what? Cause I think you do.”
“I don’t fucking love him.” It came out of his mouth quickly and all at once. He couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out. “I can’t. I can’t love him. Because if I love him…I’m a fucking terrible friend. I can’t want to kiss him. I can’t want to touch him. I can’t want to… I can’t. I can’t love him, Kyo. What do I do? What do I do if I love him?”
“You just love him,” she said quietly. She reached out her hand to touch the back of his. Bakugo quickly pulled away, a snarl forming on his lips.
“No. I’ve never had a friend like him.” Bakugo stood up. He needed to stop talking about it. He feared if he kept talking to her, he would convince himself this feeling was acceptable.
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” Jirou remained seated.
“They have to be.”
“Bakugo…” For some reason when she sighed his name, it reminded him of his dad; exasperated and trying his best to communicate with him. Maybe that’s what made him sit down again.
“Why can’t I just have a friend? I don’t want to ruin it. I don’t want to make this something where he’ll hate me. I’ve never had someone care about me the way he cares about me. And I’ve never trusted someone as much as I trust him. He’s seen more parts of me than my own family. He’s been with me…through everything. How can I not love him? He’s strong, and kind, and genuine. And dumb. So fucking dumb. But in the most naive and caring way. And… I love him. But…”
“Why does there have to be a ‘but’?” Jirou asked.
“I’m not good with people,” Bakugo scoffed.
“I think you’re selling yourself short, Bakugo. But you don’t have to be good with people. You just have to be good with Kirishima.”
“I can’t do it.” Bakugo went quiet. They both sat in their comfortable silence again.
“Then don’t,” Jirou spoke up again. Bakugo looked at her, a soft smile lifting the corners of her lips just slightly. “But don’t lie to yourself. Love him. Know that you love him. It doesn’t mean you have to act on it. It can be something only you know for sure.”
“And fucking you too, I guess,” Bakugo smirked.
“Hmm… yes. I suppose. But I’ve been known to have a terrible memory.” Jirou leaned over to nudge his shoulder. Bakugo stood up, not sure what he should do. He decided going back to his room would be the safest bet. He shoved his hands in his pockets, taking a few steps away before turning back to Jirou.
“Hey. Thank you,” he mumbled.
“My door is always open whenever you want to talk. Anytime he comes back from a date, I’ll make sure to have ice cream waiting.”
“Mint chip. Don’t fucking forget it.” Bakugo felt the weight lift off his shoulders. He hadn’t wanted to admit his feelings. But even giving himself permission acknowledge what he felt was enough to relieve the stress. At least for now.