Beep. Beep. Beep.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Beep. Bee-
"Alright!" Kirishima slammed a hand down onto his alarm clock, missing the button on the first try but smashing it directly on the second, blissful silence enveloping him as the repetitive blaring shut up.
The first thing he did was turn his gaze onto his forearm, some part of him still hoping, still believing that there would be an answer, a reply, but of course it was bare. No hello, no good morning, nothing. Kirishima felt the sadness well up, but he dismissed it. After all, Kirishima had long since grown accustomed to the fact that he was likely one of the only people in the world who didn't have a soulmate, so instead he pulled his comforter up to his neck, trying to avoid looking at his arm.
His bed was delightfully warm, comforter entangled with his legs and one arm hanging limply over the edge. Deciding that he could spend another five minutes enjoying the heat he had generated throughout the night, Kirishima snuggled further down, a small smile on his face.
After spending a lot longer than five minutes and possibly drifting off again, Kirishima reluctantly threw the duvet off and got to his feet, about to prepare himself for the day when his feet encountered something unfamiliar.
Something soft and bouncy was beneath the pads of his toes, still warm. Kirishima looked down and saw the futon, suddenly remembering that Bakugo was staying with him. He looked around the room, feverishly darting his eyes back and forth but seeing no one. Figuring he must have left early, Kirishima continued with his morning routine.
First off was changing out of his pyjamas, which he did, slipping into a pair of cotton drawstring pants and a sleeveless hoodie, both neutral tones of contrasting grey. He relished in the comfort of them both, glad he had decided to aim for cosiness rather than fashion. Maybe that wasn't very manly of him, but...
Shaking the thought from his mind, Kirishima told himself that he had gotten just the right amount of style and opulence, moving into his en-suite and starting on his hair, covering his large hands in gel and coating his strands in it. To his distaste, Kirishima noticed the beginning of his black roots beginning to show, and remembered he didn't have any of his dye left.
Get more hair dye, he mentally noted, spiking up the front two 'horns', as he liked to call them, working his way to the back. After a few minutes he was done, the routine not taking nearly as long as it used to, and Kirishima admired his handiwork in the mirror for a moment.
A boy stared back at him, but not the one he used to see. This boy was bold, confident. He wasn't afraid of anything, was friends with everyone. No one knew this boy had insecurities, or fears, or weaknesses. This boy was strong.
Kirishima nodded to the boy, who nodded back, and then he was out, grabbing his phone as he exited the room.
Strangely enough, Kirishima didn't encounter anyone on the way down to the kitchen, and he briefly wondered how long he had stayed in bed for, but wasn't overly concerned. It was the weekend, after all, and there was no one to yell at him for sleeping in, so Kirishima made his way leisurely to the elevator, pressing the button that pointed down and waited.
Left alone with his thoughts, Kirishima's mind began to wander, and his father's face floated to the forefront. Despite not wanting to know, not wanting to care, Kirishima found himself imagining how he was doing without him there. Kirishima had always been the one to clean the house, cook the dinner, make sure the mail was neatly sorted into work, personal and house-upkeep. Would his father be able to do all of that on top of his pressing job? A cruel, nasty part of his mind hoped that he wouldn't, that he wasn't coping and wanted Kirishima back to help. Maybe if he went back, his father would treat him better, appreciate him rather than taking him for granted as he always had.
A ping sounded that snapped Kirishima out of his reverie, his legs blindly walking forwards as if on autopilot as the elevator doors opened, admitting him in. As soon as the doors closed Kirishima could feel it moving, the unnerving sensation in his stomach making him feel slightly queasy.
The doors opened again to reveal the corridor that lead to the kitchen and sitting area, or common room as most of the class liked to refer to it as. It did have a more homely feeling, Kirishima conceded as he made his way to the right, pushing open the double doors. A wave of chatter hit him, the sound of a lot of his classmates - who were now definitely considered friends - having multiple conversations at once.
Plastering a smile on his face, Kirishima headed over to the fridge, intending to pour himself a bowl of cereal, but was almost immediately caught by Kaminari.
"Kirishima! Where've you been?" the teen asked, his yellow hair styled in his usual way, a smile on his lips and a splodge of what looked like strawberry jam on his cheek.
Giving him a confused simper, Kirishima moved past him and grasped at the cool metal handle, yanking at it and feeling the cool, refrigerated air wash over him. A towering stack of food wobbled precariously as Kirishima rustled about, pulling the milk from the back and shutting it. "What do you mean?" he asked, turning his head to watch Kaminari following him as he then grabbed a box of Shreddies and a bowl.
"Dude," Kaminari said, crossing his arms and leaning on the fridge. "It's, like, 2pm. Why are you making cereal?"
Kirishima choked on nothing and whirled, cereal abandoned. "2pm!" he exclaimed, pulling out his phone from his pocket to make sure Kaminari wasn't lying. He wasn't. "Damn, how long did I lie in bed for?!"
Kaminari laughed, giving his friend a light and good-natured punch on his upper arm. "Well, you may want lunch instead of breakfast," he joked. "I just made some toasties, want one?"
Flashing him a grateful smile, Kirishima replaced the milk, bowl and cereal in their respected places and trailed after his friend, who lead him to the oven. "They might be a little burnt," Kaminari confessed bashfully, pulling out a tray of slightly-blackened sandwiches. "But they should taste alright."
"It's no problem bro," Kirishima assured, picking one up and gazing at it appreciatively. As if on cue, his stomach rumbled. "I'm just really hungry."
Taking a plate for both him and Kaminari, Kirishima took a bite, gobbling it up in record time. He didn't even need the plate.
"Oh, by the way," Kirishima mumbled, spraying crumbs everywhere as his mouth was still full of food. "Where's Bakugo? He was gone when I woke up."
Kaminari, despite being badly-mannered a lot of the time, politely finished chewing his mouthful before answering. "He left early this morning. Called me a bastard when I asked him where he was going, but grumbled something about training. That man is so charismatic," he added mockingly, fluttering his eyelashes at Kirishima, who snorted.
"Yeah," he agreed. "I might go join him. Need to catch up on some training anyway. I'm getting slow," Kirishima mused, thinking out loud.
"Pft," Kaminari scoffed, taking another bite. "As if. You could beat me up any day."
Kirishima laughed. "Yeah, but that's because you prefer to send love letters to your soulmate rather than train," he pointed out, inclining his head to Kaminari's bare are, where a long message was written out, surrounded by cheesy hearts and sparkles.
Kaminari flushed a deep red, snatching his arm away and hiding it from view, glaring at the chuckling red-head. "Haha, very funny."
Pushing away from the counter, Kirishima gave Kaminari a salute before heading out of Alliance Heights, waving goodbye to Uraraka and Mina, who were sitting on the floor animatedly discussing something on the pink girl's phone. They grinned at him for a moment, before Mina swiped her finger across the screen and they both collapsed with laughter.
The walk to the school gym wasn't long, and before Kirishima knew it he was in the changing rooms, unfolding his spare workout clothes from his locker and shrugging them on. Even through the doors, he could hear the vigorous grunts and yells from Bakugo, followed by loud explosions. Before entering, Kirishima made sure to wait for a break in the attacks, not fancying getting blasted before he had even started. Even so, he made sure to activate his Quirk under his clothing; you could never be too careful.
Pushing the door open, the stark smell of smoke and sweat invaded Kirishima's senses, making him cough involuntarily and bring a hand up to cover his mouth. Bakugo was leaning up against the far wall, sweat glistening on every bit of skin that Kirishima could see, as well as it coating a lot of his gym clothing. For a moment, Kirishima wondered if that was dangerous - after all, it was Bakugo's sweat that was flammable, but then he remembered how much control Bakugo had over his Quirk and his fear dwindled.
The blond's eyes locked onto Kirishima as soon as he entered, his usual expression on his face, no more distempered than Kirishima had gotten accustomed to. Sending him a glare, Bakugo pushed off the surface and stalked to the middle of the hall. Kirishima watched as the teen bent his knees, held his arms out in front of him, one extended outwards and one pointed down. The latter sparked and an explosion rippled from his palm, hitting the floor full force, but it didn't explode or even crack. Instead, a burst of smoke erupted out, enveloping Bakugo completely so that he was lost to Kirishima's view. He waited patiently, wondering what Bakugo was doing, and his eyes followed the thick grey smog as it drifted it's way over to Kirishima, lapping at it's feet. A few seconds later, another explosion set off and the smoke thickened even more, so much so that Kirishima could barely see two feet in front of him.
Then, from seemingly nowhere, Bakugo lunged, tackling Kirishima with a yell, flipping him over his hip and sending him crashing to the floor. Kirishima instantly activated his Quirk, the fall doing nothing to damage him. Kirishima raised his feet and kicked, the soles of his sneakers hitting Bakugo's chest and forcing him away, giving him enough time to jump to his feet and glance around, the smoke too dense to tell where the blond had gotten to. Instead he kept his arms raised, the sharp edges from his Quirk reassuring him at an extent as he slowly turned from side to side, waiting for the impending attack.
"What was that?" Kirishima asked, partly because he was curious, partly because not knowing where Bakugo was was beginning to unnerve him.
"Special move I've been working on," came the reply from somewhere to his right, a cocky tinge to his voice. "Didn't you come here to spar, Shitty Hair?"
Kirishima didn't reply, stealthily stepping to the left, trying to align himself with the sound of Bakugo's voice, but knowing the blond he would have already moved, and would likely be heading straight for him-
A disturbance in the air beside him made Kirishima whirl, just in time to see Bakugo appear in the fading smoke next to him, clear anticipating Kirishima to still be standing there. Kirishima sprung at him, arm cocked back, ready to deliver a punch but - true to typical Bakugo style - he heard him, or sensed him, and was already moving, launching himself into the air and over his head, palms snapped out into the air and simultaneous explosions firing at the same time. While they didn't physically harm Kirishima, the force of it still knocked him forwards a few steps, just enough for Bakugo to reverse his forwards momentum with another blast to come crashing, feet first, into Kirishima's back, sending him to the floor due to his unsteady footing, and the next thing Kirishima knew a weight was pressed on his spine, preventing him from getting up.
"I win," Bakugo said confidently, releasing the pressure on Kirishima's back and allowing him to stand up, head tilted to the side as he surveyed him.
Kirishima groaned, rubbing the back of his head as he deactivated his Quirk. "Yeah, alright, but I wasn't ready!"
A sour look came over Bakugo's face and he turned away, scowling. "You're not always going to have the chance to see a villain coming, Shitty Hair."
"Good point," Kirishima conceded, following Bakugo to the other side of the hall where the smoke wasn't so overbearing. "But y'know, that could backfire on you too, Bakugo. You can't see either," he added as a reminder, which Bakugo seemed content to ignore. Once he deemed a place suitable, he stopped, turning to face Kirishima.
"A face off," he challenged, arrogance dripping off every word. "No Quirks."
Kirishima snickered. "Bring it."
Hunching his shoulders, arms up boxer-style, with his legs bent to bring his centre of gravity closer to the ground, Kirishima grinned at Bakugo, who twisted his face into something of a leer, arms limp by his sides and body upright, waiting for Kirishima to make the first move.
Not one to disappoint, Kirishima ran at him, remembering what Midoriya had told him a few months ago. Well, not him specifically; more like he was talking to himself, but it was something about Bakugo's right hook.
Kirishima's Quirk was one that he had learned was best used just before danger was about to hit - because of this, he had a keen eye, and was often subconsciously aware of things seconds before others noticed, so when he noticed Bakugo's right arm pulling back, ready to thud down on Kirishima's back and end the fight all too soon, Kirishima dodged to the left, coming up behind Bakugo and arched his back, pulling his core up and using the momentum to scissor-sweep Bakugo's legs out from under him without losing his balance.
Unluckily for Kirishima, Bakugo's reactions were faster, and instead of the move sending him to the ground, it only sent him stumbling as he managed to slide to the left just enough the hit wasn't direct. Having aimed for Bakugo to be on the ground, Kirishima couldn't attack again, needing to veer away to have time to prepare to strike again.
Bakugo, on the other hand, was having none of it, not even needing his Quirk to leap a few feet into the air and using the velocity to launch forwards, shoulder colliding with Kirishima's abdomen and sending them both hurtling backwards. Kirishima managed to put a hand to the ground and flip them over, meaning Bakugo smacked against the floor first. The two burst apart, sliding across the floor in opposite directions. On his feet instantly, Kirishima noticed Bakugo was already up, mouth curled downwards and eyes narrowed, pupils displaying that fierceness and fury Kirishima was used to seeing, especially in a fight. This time he wasn't relaxed at all, muscles coiled and tensed with his palms curled. Even from here, Kirishima could tell the boy was fighting the instinct to use his Quirk.
Now Bakugo was the first to move, crossing the distance between them with such speed that he was in front of Kirishima almost before he had time to react.
Almost.
Deciding to meet Bakugo halfway, or close enough, Kirishima took two steps forward, planting his feet securely on the ground and, when Bakugo was too close to manoeuvre his way out, Kirishima took ahold of his upper arm with one hand and his waist with his other, twisting his body to the side as far as he could go and flinging Bakugo over his shoulder, the perfect positioning of his body meaning he didn't dislocate anything in the process.
What Kirishima didn't count on, however, was Bakugo predicting the initiative, planning a countermeasure and deploying it midway through the air. Kirishima was only made aware of it when Bakugo's free arm closed around his bicep, using the hold to rotate his body and place one of his shoes on Kirishima's back, kicking off.
The impact of the kick combined with the confusion of how-the-hell-did-he-just-do-that made Kirishima loosen his grip on Bakugo's body, which Bakugo then used to free himself and whirl away. The punt wasn't strong enough to send Kirishima falling, but that didn't matter, because Bakugo had regained his balance and was pushing at Kirishima's shoulders before Kirishima even had a chance to turn around, and then he was on the floor. The twin pressures that were obviously Bakugo's knees were pressed heavily into his back, and Kirishima hear him panting.
"I win again," Bakugo puffed, standing up and offering a hand to Kirishima, who took it thankfully and pulled himself up, trying not to grimace at the thick coating of sweat that covered his skin. "But that wasn't half-fucking bad, Shitty Hair. You've got faster, that's for sure."
Kirishima beamed. "Thanks, bro! You're as good as ever."
Bakugo tch-ed, immediately spinning away and heading for the changing rooms. When he noticed that Kirishima wasn't behind him, he turned his head slightly to the side and called, "You fucking coming or what, Shitty Hair?"
Snapping back to reality, Kirishima nodded quickly, rushing after the retreating blond.
Upon arriving back at Alliance Heights, they found the majority of the class was gathered in the common room, bickering about something. Bakugo, not one to stay and chat, was gone in an instant, headed upstairs to change, or something. Since Kirishima had showered after the spar with Bakugo and figured his clothes were comfy enough, he didn't see the point, so he headed over and leant on the back of one of the sofas.
"What're you arguing about?" he asked to no one in particular, so it was Sero who turned around.
"Honestly," he whispered, leaning backwards so as not to be heard by his quarrelling classmates. "I have no idea. I got here like three seconds ago, said hi and was yelled at. Keep quiet dude. They're in bad moods."
Chuckling a little, Kirishima tapped Asui on the shoulder. "What's going on?"
"They can't decide what movie to watch, kero," she answered in her nasal voice, shrugging nonchalantly and turning back to survey the scene.
After a few moments, Iida had had enough, and Kirishima was surprised he hadn't intervened sooner. He didn't know how long they had been arguing but based on the aggravated expression on most of their faces, Kirishima suspected long before he had arrived. "As Class Representative, I say we hold a vote! The film with the most votes will be put on."
"And no one will complain," Mina threatened, and Kirishima couldn't tell if she was joking or not. It was kind of scary.
There was maybe a minute of total silence, the air crackling with animosity, as they voted, holding up their hand for the movie they wanted. Iida counted each one, and then held up a movie Kirishima didn't recognise.
"But I don't want to-" Mineta started to complain, but shut up when Mina sent her death glare in his direction.
"I'll go get Bakugo!" Kirishima said, standing up straight.
Kaminari scoffed. "Please. As if Blasty McSplode will come down and watch a movie with us." A ripple of murmured agreement passed across the teens, and Kirishima shrugged.
"Well, still, I wanna get my blanket," he reasoned, giving them all a friendly smile as he strolled over to the elevator and up to his room. When he opened the door, he heard a series of grunts and paused, not wanting to go in for fear of what he might see.
"Uh...Bakugo?" Kirishima asked hesitantly, the door only partly opened, not enough for him to see inside at...whatever Bakugo was doing. "You alright?"
A string of colourful curses spewed from Bakugo's mouth, quickly followed by a louder grunt and a crash, the sound of multiple somethings that were big and heavy falling onto the floor. "Fuck," Bakugo swore. "Fu...Shit!"
Worried, Kirishima called out again. "I'm...I'm coming in, okay?"
When he didn't get a reply, Kirishima pushed at the ajar door, and it swung open to reveal a sight Kirishima promised himself he would never forget.
Crumpled in the corner of his room, arms above his head and face hidden from view, was Bakugo. Clearly, he had been trying to get his t-shirt off but had failed miserably, the material getting caught and tangled. Kirishima barely noticed his pile of textbooks scattered across the floor as he roared with laughter, using the wall as support in fear of his legs collapsing.
"Fuck off, Shitty Hair!" Bakugo snarled angrily, struggling to his feet. His hands were stuck in the air, and the sight of him standing like that just made Kirishima laugh harder, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes.
Shouting a mix between a curse and a battle cry, Bakugo forced his arms apart, the fabric ripping down the seam and suddenly he was free, whirling around to face Kirishima.
Now in hysterics, Kirishima didn't even try to get out of the way as Bakugo dived at him, not resisting as he was tackled to the floor. His arms trapped by his sides as Bakugo straddled his chest, the howling red-head couldn't even wipe away the tears that were now streaming down his face. "Y-You...!" he tried, his cachinnation making it impossible to form any coherent sentence.
Bakugo's face resembled a thunderstorm, his brows furrowed low over his eyes and his mouth twisted into an intimidating snarl, cheeks flushed with exertion. "Don't you dare tell a fucking soul," he said brusquely, his voice low and threatening.
Calming down from his fit, Kirishima gulped, trying to swallow the extra guffaw that was attempting to escape, fixing Bakugo with a mock-serious look. His eyes paused only slightly at the remains of Bakugo's shirt, barely clinging to his shoulders and showing off an awful lot of skin. "Only if you promise to come watch a movie with us."
Bakugo frowned, rocking to the side and getting off Kirishima's chest, casting him a backward glance. "What the...why?"
Kirishima shrugged, standing up and leaning back against the doorframe again. He wondered if anyone had heard him, but figured no. They were all downstairs anyway. "Kaminari bet I wouldn't be able to get you to come watch it, and I know you wouldn't usually, but...I could just tell him..."
Bakugo's head snapped around. "You fucking wouldn't."
Kirishima smirked. "I so would."
There was a moment of silence, a face off between the two teens as Bakugo glowered and Kirishima kept his self-confident expression, and eventually the blond groaned, exasperated.
"Fine," he muttered. Kirishima crowed in victory and rushed forward, nabbing his blanket from the end of his bed and turning back towards the exit.
"It's starting now, so come on!" When Bakugo didn't make a move towards the door, Kirishima sighed teasingly. "The longer you're gone, the looser my lips get."
That got him moving, nabbing a shirt off of the floor and storming past Kirishima, towards the elevator whilst pulling it over his head, and Kirishima could envision an angry cloud following him down the corridor. The thought amused him as he chased after him.
Kirishima had the satisfaction of seeing Kaminari's shocked expression when Bakugo slumped onto an empty couch, blinking at the red-head. "How?" he mouthed, and Kirishima simply gave an arrogant shrug, taking the seat beside the blond and wrapping the blanket around him.
"The Conjuring," Kirishima heard Bakugo murmur. "I hate this movie."
And after half an hour, Kirishima agreed with Bakugo, the multiple jumpscares having him on the edge of his seat, trying not to flinch or hide his eyes whenever another scary moment came up on screen - it wouldn't be manly of him at all.
Still, despite the frightening nature of the film, Kirishima found it to be a struggle to keep his eyes open, the tempting call of sleep wrapping it tentacles around him, and pretty soon the warm comfort of unconsciousness had enveloped him completely.