Patchwork Hearts {Kiribaku}

Guns for Hands

{Past}

Bakugou couldn't find a speck of surprise within himself when Kirishima did start to make other friends. He was like his own freaking source of light that was impossible not to be drawn to in one way or another, and he was easy to work with when they were paired up in practical training and exams.

Jealousy had a bitter taste, and Bakugou learned that quickly. It wasn't like Kirishima was ignoring him or anything; in fact, Bakugou wasn't jealous of the other idiots he was talking to at all. Not that he'd ever say it—it was hard enough merely admitting it to himself—but he was jealous of Kirishima.

Fuck if he'd ever need friends, or so he used to think. He was used to being alone, seeing as he'd been that way most of his life. He sucked at socializing and was always under the assumption that people feared or were disgusted by him, a defense mechanism he'd developed over the course of his life. Even still, that didn't mean he didn't feel a sort of... longing when he saw Kirishima getting along with other losers in class.

Bakugou bit his tongue on the matter. Kirishima himself said he wasn't at UA for other people—here was there for himself, to become a hero. Any friends other than Shitty Hair himself would probably just get in the way.

Regardless, those thoughts went down the drain quickly because Kirishima—being Kirishima—didn't waste much time before he was introducing his new acquaintances to Bakugou. They were sitting down to lunch one afternoon when the idiot trampled over to their usual table with three others from the class in tow—some pink chick with black eyes, a guy with bright yellow hair who always ended up with a Dunce Face whenever he overused his Quirk, and a dark-haired plain-faced guy.

Kirishima was happy to introduce them as Ashido—who supposedly went to their middle school, though neither of them ever really noticed her—Kaminari, and Sero. Bakugou brushed off the names in favor of his own nicknames, just as he'd been starting to use 'Shitty Hair' for Kirishima, who'd given up arguing with him about it weeks ago.

The three of them didn't seem like they were holding their guard up against him, nor were they shooting him the familiar, accusing glares he was so used to. That didn't mean he didn't keep his own guard up, though, and it was after a few days of consistent lunches with them, Kirishima decided to bring it up.

"Y'know, you don't have to act so hostile toward them," he pointed out as they were on their way home.

"Hmph. I don't trust anybody."

Except me, Kirishima thought. That was one thing he knew he could use to an advantage. "I know, man. But they're super cool and they're more impressed by your Quirk than scared of it, like me."

"What, you tell 'em not to say shit about it?"

"I mean, yeah. They asked me about it but I told 'em it doesn't matter since you're your own person who's gonna be a badass hero! They agreed and said they wanted to meet you."

Bakugou snorted but said nothing more. It was true that the other three hadn't said shit about Bakugou and his Quirk, and of everyone he was pretty sure they were some of the few who hadn't been partaking in spreading rumors and shit about him. They were annoying, but could Bakugou really argue with their presence, given that gross jealousy he'd been feeling up until then?

"Hey, I know you're used to being defensive around people who know your Quirk," Kirishima said, filling the silence with a soft voice. "But I mean, you know who you are, right? So what does it matter what anybody else thinks?"

"...yeah, whatever," Bakugou muttered.

Outwardly he remained aloof, but Kirishima was right, because of course he was. Little by little he forced himself to relax around the others until he was hardly tense at all whenever they were around. It helped that the longer time went on, the less likely it seemed they were going to say a thing about his Quirk or The Bomber.