Chapter Text
Bakugou Katsuki is kissing someone. And that someone is not Izuku Midoriya.
In fact, Izuku Midoriya was stuck watching from the sidelines like an old, forgotten toy.
Kirishima Eijirou was the one holding onto Katsuki Bakugou. Kirishima Eijirou was the one pressing his ugly pink lips against perfect plump pale ones.
It wasn’t fair.
Kirishima wasn’t the one who’d seen the entirety of Bakugou’s childhood. Kirishima wasn’t the one who was there when Bakugou cried over someone else taking some stupid fireman figure before him in kindergarten. Kirishima wasn’t the one who was there for every single one of Bakugou’s birthday parties up until fifth grade.
Kirishima was just someone who had happened to get into UA too.
Kirishima was just someone who somehow clawed their way into Bakugou’s life.
He didn’t deserve the place he now was in. That place should’ve been Izuku’s.
Izuku was the one who had been waiting patiently for years on end for Bakugou. Kirishima just showed up and stole it.
Izuku had even planned to confess today. As impossible as it sounds, he really, really had. And he really, really believed he had a chance. The orange peonies clutched in his fist proof of it.
But, he was too late.
When he finally found Bakugou, sat outside one of the school buildings on a cement bench, Kirishima was already there.
At first, Izuku didn’t think much of it other than it being a hinder to his confession. He didn’t really feel like confessing in front of Kirishima. Not that he had anything against the guy- quite the opposite actually, Izuku even enjoyed Kirishima’s company a lot of the time. Even if he was jealous of the way Kirishima seemed to be the only one Bakugou would let in his dorm, the only one Bakugou would let touch him for longer than a second.
But then, he saw the bouquet of white roses Kirishima had in his hands. They even looked like they were hand plucked from a garden. Izuku knew one of Kirishima’s moms had a knack for gardening, so they probably were.
And Kirishima was not just holding the flowers, he was seemingly offering them to Bakugou.
And Bakugou was accepting them.
The object of Izuku’s affections was still at first it seemed, before his head lifted back up from the roses to Kirishima’s red face.
Kirishima had his eyes squeezed close, probably expecting disgust to paint his love’s face and not wanting to have to see the expression and be stuck with it for the rest of his lifetime.
But instead of disgust, instead of a hand hitting his face, once he opened his eyes he was met with red eyes filled with fear, longing and love. And the hand that was supposed to hit him smack across the face was instead fidgeting with a rose leaf.
Izuku couldn’t hear what they said when the silence finally broke between them. He wasn’t sure he’d want to was he given the option.
He watched as one of Kirishima’s bulky hands creeped towards one of Bakugou’s perfect ones.
He watched as the former’s hand nervously and oh so slowly poked at one of Bakugou’s fingers.
He watched as Bakugou responded to the affection and sneaked his hand closer until it was placed atop of Kirishima’s.
He watched as they exchanged words again.
He watched as they both leaned closer.
He watched as they both had their faces so close to one another their mouths would touch if they both spoke at once.
He watched as Kirishima closed the minuscule distance that was still left between them and pecked Bakugou’s lips.
The peonies in his hand were being manhandled.
When Kirishima pulled away from the weak excuse of a kiss, Bakugou had chased after his lips, even raising the hand that wasn’t holding onto Kirishima’s to place it on one of Kirishima’s lonely cheeks.
Izuku had two lonely cheeks. Now one more than Kirishima. He didn’t see a hand coming his way.
Kirishima’s eyes had widened and unfocused at first, before looking back into Bakugou’s.
It was a painful sight, the two of them remaining intense eye contact while also kissing.
That wasn’t how it was usually done in romance movies. Usually, they’d both have their eyes closed.
It felt strangely more intimate the way Bakugou and Kirishima did it. Like they didn’t want to miss out on the other’s expressions. Didn’t want to miss out on any piece of the other they were allowed.
The ache in his heart spread to his stomach, to his throat, to his feet, to his eyes, to his everything.
It was torture, all of it.
All the pain from the broken bones he endured trying to master one for all didn’t even compare to how much misery he was in now.
He should’ve looked away long ago for his own good. He should’ve turned around and left the moment he saw Kirishima presenting the flowers and Bakugou sneaking a hand onto his in response, he would’ve spared himself a lot of pain.
But of course he didn’t. Of course he fucking didn’t.