Chapter Text
Kirishima knew something was wrong.
He just wasn’t sure what.
At first, he’d thought Bakugo was simply being Bakugo.
Which, admittedly, didn’t narrow things down much.
The three of them were sitting in the common room after training, spread across the couches with their bags dumped beside them. Kirishima was halfway through a bottle of water, Izuku was scribbling something in his notebook, and Bakugo—
Bakugo was sitting on the opposite side of the room.
Kirishima frowned.
That alone wasn’t weird.
Bakugo liked his personal space.
But lately, it had become… excessive.
“Hey, Bakugo.”
“What?”
“You wanna sit over here?”
Bakugo’s eyes narrowed.
“No.”
Kirishima blinked.
“Okay.”
Izuku looked up from his notebook.
“Is something wrong, Kacchan?”
Bakugo’s expression immediately tightened.
“No.”
Izuku stared at him for a second before slowly looking back down.
“Oh.”
Kirishima watched the exchange carefully.
Something was definitely wrong.
Because Bakugo hadn’t just answered.
He’d practically snapped the word.
And Izuku looked like he’d expected it.
Kirishima glanced between them.
“Did you two fight?”
“No,” Izuku answered.
“Yes,” Bakugo answered at the exact same time.
Izuku’s head shot up.
“What?”
Bakugo clicked his tongue.
“Shut up.”
“But we didn’t fight.”
“Not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“Nothing.”
Kirishima sighed.
This was going wonderfully.
He took another drink of water and watched Bakugo shift farther into the corner of the couch.
Farther away from Izuku.
That was the part that bothered him.
Bakugo had always been loud around Midoriya.
Annoying.
Aggressive.
Constantly calling him names.
But he was usually close.
They trained together. Walked together. Argued over stupid things together.
Sometimes Bakugo would lean over Midoriya’s shoulder to look at whatever he was writing.
Sometimes he’d grab the notebook out of his hands.
Sometimes he’d shove him aside when Midoriya was blocking the TV.
Physical space had never seemed to be an issue between them.
Now Bakugo wouldn’t even sit beside him.
Izuku seemed to notice too.
His pencil stopped moving.
“Kacchan?”
“What?”
“Did I do something?”
Bakugo froze.
Kirishima’s eyebrows rose.
Izuku’s voice had become quieter.
“I know you’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“You moved seats three times today.”
Bakugo glared at him.
“So?”
“And yesterday you left the room whenever I came in.”
“Coincidence.”
“And during training—”
“You’re seriously keeping track?”
Izuku hesitated.
“…Yes.”
Bakugo groaned and dragged a hand down his face.
Kirishima could practically see the frustration radiating off him.
“You’re annoying.”
Izuku’s shoulders dropped.
“Sorry.”
Bakugo’s eyes widened slightly.
For just a second, his expression changed.
Not anger.
Something else.
Regret, maybe.
Then it disappeared.
“Don’t apologize.”
Izuku looked confused.
“But you just said—”
“I said you’re annoying. I didn’t say you did anything.”
That only seemed to confuse Izuku more.
Kirishima finally decided he’d had enough.
“Okay, hold on.”
Both of them looked at him.
“What?”
Kirishima pointed between them.
“Something is happening here.”
“Nothing is happening,” Bakugo said.
“Something is definitely happening.”
Izuku nodded.
“I agree.”
“Traitor.”
Kirishima ignored Bakugo.
“Midoriya, what happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Bakugo?”
“Nothing.”
Kirishima stared at them.
“You guys are terrible liars.”
Bakugo stood.
“I’m going to my room.”
Izuku looked up again.
“Kacchan—”
Bakugo stopped.
His hand tightened around the strap of his bag.
For a moment, Kirishima thought he might actually explain.
Instead, Bakugo said quietly,
“Just… give me some space.”
Izuku went still.
“Oh.”
Bakugo walked away.
The room fell silent.
Kirishima looked at Izuku.
Izuku looked down at his notebook.
His pencil hadn’t moved since Bakugo stood up.
“Midoriya.”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I’m just confused.”
Kirishima sat forward.
“About Bakugo?”
Izuku nodded.
“I don’t understand.”
“Maybe he just needs some time.”
“I know.”
Izuku’s fingers tightened around his pencil.
“But he never used to need space from me.”
Kirishima didn’t know what to say to that.
Because he was right.
Bakugo had always complained about Midoriya being too close.
But he’d never actually moved away.
Not until recently.
And whatever was going on, Bakugo clearly wasn’t ready to talk about it.
Kirishima leaned back.
“Give him some time.”
Izuku nodded.
“Okay.”
He looked toward the hallway.
Then back at his notebook.
After a moment, he quietly added,
“I just wish he’d tell me what I did wrong.”
Kirishima frowned.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Izuku gave him a small smile.
“I hope you’re right.”
Neither of them noticed the figure standing just around the corner.
Bakugo had stopped.
His fists were clenched at his sides.
He’d heard every word.
And somehow, hearing Midoriya say he wished Katsuki would explain made everything worse.
Because Katsuki knew exactly why he was avoiding him.
He just didn’t know how to say it.
Not yet.
So instead, he turned around and continued down the hallway.
Keeping his distance.
Even though every part of him wanted to do the opposite.