Chapter Text
Eijiro Kirishima was a punk rocker. Something everyone knew, something everyone loved. Every weekend, he was at a new gig, in his black eyeliner and thick combat boots with proud, purple ladder laces contrasting the darkness of his shoes. And every Wednesday, he practiced his old bass that had just about every sticker in existence covering its surface so loud his very apartment complex would rumble with each pluck of his fingers. As passionate as he was, he'd never get into a band, only ever being the loyal, supportive crowd of one. And that was because of one, shitty reason.
He was the sweetest guy anyone had ever met.
Which, again, was a shitty reason in Eijiro's opinion. Just because he liked making people happy, didn't mean he was any less of a bassist! He gave it his all, every time, no matter the time, so why wouldn't anyone see that?
Like every other day, that little issue was put to the edge of his mind so he could actually enjoy himself on a night out. Per his usual weekend, he was at a gig. Nothing huge, it was just at a local venue that he visited frequently and was treasured at. That was probably because he gave every underground band that played there enough money to last them a week, though.
Eijiro leant comfortably against the wall of the venue with his foot propped up against the scratchy brick. He'd found a fairly good spot, one where he could avoid violent mosh pits (he was strong enough to withstand them, he just didn't have the heart to hit anyone) but also have whatever band was playing in his direct line of sight and in their full glory. It was surprising, really. A perfectly good spot and he, for once, managed to snatch a beer! His luck was amazing tonight.
As lucky and grateful as he was, he couldn't help the deep sigh that left his lips. He was supposed to relax and yet all his problems seemed to weigh on his mind especially heavy. Swirling his beer, he decided the band would cheer him back up.
The lights dimmed. As in, the ancient flickering bulb above the crowd turned off and the ancient flickering bulb above the stage turned on. Then, the band members came out, one by one.
The first to venture out was one of the guitarists, a pretty boy in a baggy, white t-shirt and tight, leather pants. His hair was a shocking yellow but his dirty blonde roots were showing ever so slightly. Eijiro wondered how his hair could stay so bright and have visible roots at the same time. That attention quickly shifted to the jet-black lightning bolt he had painted on the side. Seriously, how does one get a pattern like that so perfect? The man slung the decorated strap of a sunshine yellow razorback over his shoulder, giving a few experimental strums and tweaking some effects before flashing the brightest grin Eijiro had ever seen at the crowd. He was already hyped, hopping around the stage as if the show had already started. Eijiro's lips quirked, feeling his own energy crackle with the man's.
Then was the second guitarist - a lanky, androgynous person wearing a fishnet shirt that hung off of them loosely with flared sleeves and a denim maxi skirt that seemed to be DIY. They had a relaxed grin outlined by matte, maroon lips and dark, lined eyes to match. Their hair was shoulder-length, black, and straight. They were slower in their movements, lazily shrugging their warlock onto narrow shoulders before running nimble fingers over the strings. They batted their eyelashes at the crowd in a seductive manner whilst also appearing entirely nonchalant. It was damn impressive. Eijiro thought they were attractive, but couldn't tell if he was gay or not for thinking that. It didn't matter to him anyways considering he was. Well. Gay.
Next was... an incredibly short man. He seemed very out of place in his flowery top and... suspenders? Eijiro wasn't one to judge, but seriously? The purple-haired man picked up a bass double his size and plucked it with a thick, neon pink pick. His grin was smug and he winked at a lady close to the stage. She threw her beer at him, making him look like a wet dog.
His view was then filled by the assault of pink that entered the stage afterwards. Bubblegum pink afro against shiny, chocolate skin was a perfect match To Eijiro, at least. She glowed under the poor lighting and immediately, he could tell she was the singer with her off-the-shoulder, cropped band shirt and tight-fit denim shorts over heart patterned fishnets. Her smile was blinding and when she spoke, that bubbliness made the entire crowd jump up and down with excitement. "Welcome everyone! Are you ready to sweat your tits off?" she yelled, eyes screwed shut with the volume. The crowd yelled back at her, and she responded by whooping at them.
All attention was on the singer. Eijiro's would have been as well, if he didn't catch the slight movement behind her. And... woah. Oh boy was he glad he did.
Ashy blonde hair, tufts sticking up like that was entirely natural. A tight, black shirt with an unrealistic skull on it. Skinny, grey jeans. With rips. All down the leg. Scarlet eyes, similar to Eijiro's own. But just slightly lighter. And with a lot more fire in them. His eyebrows were furrowed, giving his expression this... intensity that just drew Eijiro in. The man twirled beaten drumsticks between his fingers as he plopped himself down into the stool behind the drum set. He swooned at the sight, completely captured by this manly drummer lurking in the shadows. The blonde obviously hadn't wanted to be seen, but to Eijiro, he was the main attraction.
The singer had begun introducing each member of the band, but Eijiro was only half listening. He atleast heard their names.
Bakugo Katsuki.
What a man.
Since Eijiro hadn't actually been listening - he'd gotten lost in the fiery eyes of their drummer - he missed the introduction of their first song. All he got was that they were a newly formed band, with very few original songs, so most of their set would be covers. There was a (weirdly aggressive) count of 4 from the drumsticks before guitar and drums and bass washed over him like a harsh wave curling over him at the beach. He barely even registered someone scream 'L7', which he assumed was the original artist.
Whatever he expected from the singer, it wasn't the raspy, angry voice that came from her. It fit the song like a glove. He found himself bopping his head along, getting lost in the lyrics.
When I get mad and I get pissed,
I grab my pen and I write out a list
Of all the people that won't be missed.
You've made my shitlist.
The music vibrated the entire building, or maybe that was the stomping of the crowd. Eijiro couldn't tell, and didn't really care, he was trying to understand how the bopping of his head had turned into head banging. Whatever, he was having the time of his life!... That was, until, a particularly rough movement tipped his beer over and onto his clean top. He snapped back to reality, gaping down at his clothing.
"Shit..." he mumbled, placing his cup gently down onto the ground before assessing the damage done to his shirt. If he were wearing anything but his white vest that was prone to going see-through when wet, it would've been fine, but alas. The thin fabric had already begun to stick to him and, to his horror, his nipple piercings. He flushed pink with embarrassment, wide eyes darting around to make sure nobody was watching him. Even though he was literally at a performance and nobody would be watching some random guy on the sides. His gaze, attracted by some overwhelming urge in his body, turned to the band on stage. Red met red, and suddenly the world around him vanished.
Katsuki was looking straight at him with an unreadable expression. His body moved like it was second nature, banging on the drums whilst keeping direct eye contact with Eijiro. His eyes were squinted just slightly. It was beautiful. It was amazing. It was... utterly humiliating. Eijiro watched as his eyes slipped slowly downwards and, before he could actually start crying, he spun around and swiftly made his way towards the grotty, vandalised bathrooms. He bashed into numerous bystanders on the way but found he was far too horrified to care. Throwing himself over the threshold, he slammed the door behind himself and sunk down against it, head in his hands.
The hot drummer on stage saw him. Saw his fucking nipples through his stupid flimsy top. He wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. A croaky groan left his throat as he buried his face into his arms, now resting on his bent knees.
He let himself sulk for a bit, needing to gather himself before heading back out. If he left too soon, he'd see the drummer again, and he'd relive the entire interaction once more.
A few minutes turned into atleast an hour, maybe more, and he realised he'd just missed their entire set.
To be fair, he only realised that he'd missed it once fists were banging on the door yelling at him to let people in because they needed a piss.
And that's how he found himself trudging through the night, shirtless (because that was somewhere less mortifying than a see through shirt), merchless (he'd booked it out of there), and lacking the numbers of each band member. A social creature, he was, yet he had no socials. Of the band. Whatever, he was too disappointed to make sense! He'd gotten so into the music so quickly, he just needed to connect with them! Besides, it wouldn't have hurt to get to know that drummer a little better.
Eijiro pouted, going through the night in his head and wishing he'd done anything differently. He sighed and tuned back into his surroundings, desperate for something other than his own thoughts to focus on. Drunken singing coming from a good distance away, the rustling of what was most likely rats in the bushes, his own feet dragging across the rocky pavement... He let the sounds seep into his brain and distract him from his own dumbass self. It was soothing. So many sounds, yet so silent at the same time. He could appreciate the auditory oxymoron. That serenity was interrupted by obnoxiously loud drill music.
He startled, lifting his head so quickly he was threatened with whiplash. Ahead was a simple convenience store. Simple, yes, but the brightness of it was almost as offensive as its godawful music taste. Irritated by its distasteful appearance and miraculously awake enough to start the trek back to his rusty car, he spun on his heel and tried to take a step forwards.
The rumble his stomach rumbled should've been put on record with how loud and utterly consuming it was.
He winced. Maybe a shitty, store-bought sandwich wasn't so bad. If it was shitty enough, maybe he could compensate by making it free! (Little thief.)
The redhead speedwalked his way into the store, ignoring the twitch his eye gave at the high-pitched bell above the door. He kept his head down and made his way towards the fridges. If his luck from earlier came back, he'd be able to grab a sandwich and go without any harassment. Or stray cups of beer... He shivered. That was going in his 'Top 10 Worst Moments of Eijiro's Adult Life' or, as he liked to call it, 'Kill Me Moments'. Probably just below him tripping over in the shop and breaking multiple pieces of equipment and dropping his freshly sterilised needles in front of a client. Safe to say, they didn't come back.
He huffed at the memory and reached into the fridge, mulling over the limited options for just a moment before grabbing a classic ham sandwich. It was only a snack. Plus, he'd eat anything with how ravenous the night had made him, did it seriously matter? Happy with his admittedly boring decision, he shut the fridge door. His reflection looked back at him. It wasn't too bad considering the amount of stress he'd been subjected to, and his hair was mostly intact! That was a success in Eijiro's book. He grinned at himself and winked, shooting finger guns at himself like some cheesy American jock. At least it'd go unseen, and even then, he had the confidence to pull it off. Usually.
Tonight was not a night he had such confidence, which was why it was crucial that nobody saw. Except, they did. Because to the right of Eijiro's reflection, was another. An image of a blonde... red-eyed... eyeliner wearing man...
Eijiro whipped his head around and their eyes met once again. Unlike last time, the world didn't vanish around them with a chorus of angels and harp, as the man across from him barked out a laugh right in his blushing face. But, oh, he couldn't be that mad. Not with the way Katsuki's eyes wrinkled as he laughed and his nose scrunched up, with the way he threw his head back like he was putting his all into laughing (so manly), with the way his hand came up to grasp at his own shirt like it was the funniest thing in the world. It was impossible to be mad. It was, however, entirely possible for Eijiro's cheeks to flush as red as his hair and for his jaw to drop like he was catching flies.
Oh yeah, he was so done for.
The laughter died down once Katsuki caught the stupid look on his face. His eyebrows furrowed and he snarled, confronting him almost self-consciously, "Fuck's wrong with your face?"
His voice was everything Eijiro wanted and more. Gruff and direct, just dripping with the manliness he adored so very much. It wrapped around his brain so well and caused warmth to pool comfortably in his stomach, making him lax and gain a dopey grin on his face. That got another dirty look from the blonde.
"I... Your voice, it's so-"
Since the universe loved Eijiro so dearly, it prevented him from stuttering out the worst pick up line imaginable; that came in the form of pink throwing herself between them.
"Nipple guy!" her eyes shone with excitement and recognition, which would have the redhead giddy and grinning if only he wasn't known as... "Nipple guy?..." Eijiro whispered, expression twisted into absolute humiliation once again. He had hoped nobody else saw, and that the drummer would keep it to himself. But no, of course not! How could he ever get away with accidentally flashing people!
If Mina noticed his internal turmoil, she didn't comment on it nor did she care in any way. In fact, it only seemed to spur her on more if the way she shoved further into his personal bubble and poked at his chest with long acrylics said anything. "Yeah! Katsuki," the man in question suddenly seemed very interested in the floor, "was telling us about you after the show! When'd you get the piercings done? I've just been dying to get them!" She rambled on, hands flying to match her speedy speech. The girl was so immersed in her own words that she almost scratched Eijiro's eye. Wouldn't make much of a chance, he thought, considering he'd already done it himself years ago. What was that she said? Katsuki talking about him after the show? He was only a boy, he couldn't help the flit of his eyes over to the blonde and the blush crawling up his neck.
Mina ended her rant with a pen, a piece of paper, the words 'text me!' and literally nothing else. Usually, people spoke a little longer and didn't have one-sided conversations before exchanging numbers. Then again, there wasn't much exchanging. She'd scribbled her number down, not knowing anything about the man she'd willingly given her contact to and not caring in the slightest, before grabbing her bandmate and rushing out of the store. It was a miracle she was alive, really.
Bewildered, Eijiro stood in that same place for a solid 5 minutes before wandering, wide-eyed, out of that poor excuse of a shop. In fact, he was so out of it, he didn't notice the stolen sandwich squished in his tight grasp until he'd reached his car.