Bakugo was everywhere.
Kirishima heard from Mina, who heard from Iida that Bakugo had slept on the sofa in the common room, which he felt terrible about. And since everyone in this godforsaken class seemed to thrive on gossip, by the end of first period everyone seemed to know, and kept shooting the red-head curious looks.
Of course, it didn't help that Kirishima looked like utter shit. He barely put any effort into his look, hair haphazardly spiked in uneven patches, tie resembling something similar to Midoriya's yet somehow more of a mess, shirt half tucked into his shirt and large bags framing his the underneath of his eyes. He really should have gotten some more sleep, but he spent the remainder of the night debating whether or not to run after Bakugo, tell him to come back, that he was sorry.
He didn't.
And it didn't help that all Kirishima could think when he would round a corner and see Bakugo, or would enter a room and Bakugo would be conversing with a teacher, or even just going into the bathroom to see Bakugo washing his hands at the sink, was that Bakugo must know. He had to know, that's why he was so grossed out when he woke up after his nightmare. The look on his face...it was burned into the forefront of Kirishima's mind, branded on the inside of his eyelids so he saw it whenever he blinked.
It must also be the reason that whenever Kirishima would approach Bakugo, try to initiate any sort of greeting, Bakugo would move past him without touching him, head down, no rough shouldering or shoving, without a word exchanged.
It was like every almost-interaction tore a hole in Kirishima's heart.
Fifth period rolled around, Thursday hero class. An exhausting hour of hard training, and when Kirishima emerged from his long shower he saw that most of his classmates had left, with only Sero, Koda and-
Bakugo.
Kirishima felt his heart tighten like a vice in his chest as he failed to catch the blond's eye, and moved to his locker. Pulling on his spare clothes, he made idle chatter with Kaminari who was gushing about some new shoes he wanted that he'd seen some celebrity wearing. The door leading to the hallway shut, and Kirishima deflated a little, disappointed he didn't have a chance, just one more chance to talk to Bakugo. Kaminari bid him goodbye, saying he should join him and Sero in playing Smash Bros later on, and then Kirishima was alone in the changing room. Or, at least, he though he was.
The sound of someone knocking their body against the metal of the locker doors startled Kirishima so much he had to physically stop himself from giving out an unmanly yelp.
"It's not...It wasn't you."
Kirishima pushed his locker door closed and there, on the other side of it, was Bakugo. It must have been Koda who left before Kaminari, not Bakugo. Kirishima felt bad that the animal lover had slipped so easily from his mind, but there was a more pressing matter at hand. "You're speaking to me?" Kirishima blurted, then cursed himself internally, then paused. "What wasn't me?"
A storm cloud had gathered above Bakugo's head, his expression thundery. "Forget it," he muttered, pushing off the surface and heading towards the exit, but Kirishima's hand had grabbed his forearm before either of them could even blink.
"No, Bakugo, wait." Finally, Kirishima could get out what he had been trying to all day. His free hand brushed agitatedly at his fringe, the red locks blocking his view slightly. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out with all this, because I figure you know since when I woke you up you were all grossed out or something and I know because it's weird, plus it's not exactly conventional since, well, I don't think I have a-"
"What the fuck are you talking about, Shitty Hair?" Bakugo snapped, head whipping around so that carmine eyes could bore fiery holes into Kirishima's blushing face.
"I'm, uh, apologising for last night?" he said, unsurely.
Bakugo frowned. "Why the fuck are you apologising?" he asked, somewhat incredulously, but still managing to keep his irritated expression. "You didn't do shit."
"Right," Kirishima said slowly, unsurely, brows furrowed. "Then why have you been avoiding me all day?"
At that, Bakugo's eye twitched and he huffed. A look came over his eyes, one Kirishima couldn't discern but radiated irritation. "You're so fucking dense, Shitty Hair," Bakugo snapped, almost spitting in his face. There was a tenseness in his posture, something that Kirishima recognised, but couldn't place his finger on what.
Then Kirishima laughed. Why was he laughing?
Because Bakugo's not mad.
Keeping his smile, Kirishima cracked open an eye to see that, sure enough, the blond was staring at him with this look of what could only be a reluctant sort of fondness, ears a little red, a flush rising through his collar. Crimson eyes shone through his scowl, betraying his emotions. A part of Kirishima wondered when he had gotten so good at reading Bakugo - presumably spending two years basically forcing himself into his life exposes him to that kind of thing.
"Dense about what?" Kirishima asked, still chuckling as he shot Bakugo a crooked smile.
"About - fuck - about this- this shit! All this-" Bakugo cut himself off with a sound like a strange combination of a hiss and a groan, choking on his words. "About my feelings for you, fuckwad."
"Your..." Kirishima frowned. Feelings? Surely he didn't mean...
"God, do I need to spell it out for you?" Bakugo paused, eyes searching Kirishima's face, which seemed to be frozen in time as the cogs in his mind whirred to deduce the meaning.
"I fucking- I like you, Shitty Hair."
It was like Kirishima had been dunked underwater. Everything felt hazy, blurry, like anyone that tried to speak to him would be muffled and inaudible. He definitely wasn't laughing anymore.
"Y...You like me?"
Nothing made any sense. Bakugo had been so cold, all day, refusing to even look at him, let alone speak to him, and then he comes out with this? It didn't make any sense!
"Are you fucking deaf, Shitty Hair?" Bakugo turned his head away, trying and failing to hide his pink cheeks from Kirishima's view. It was unbearably adorable, but Kirishima couldn't bring himself to lock the memory away, still confounded by this revelation.
"You're not kidding, right? This isn't a joke?" Kirishima had to ask, had to solidify this in his mind, which was still struggling to comprehend it.
Bakugo whirled, eyes narrowed in anger. "You think I'd lie about this shit?" he growled, finally ripping his arm from Kirishima's grasp and crossing them across his chest defensively.
Kirishima gaped at him, the realisation slowly encompassing in his mind. "Is this- this is why you haven't been speaking to me?"
With a glare heated enough to melt stone, Bakugo stared into Kirishima's very soul. "What the fuck did you think it was?"
"I thought you hated me!" Kirishima yelped, pushing off the lockers so he could stand properly, his slight height advantage meaning Bakugo had to cast his eyes up a little to meet Kirishima's gaze, but his whole aura made Bakugo seem 10 feet tall. Kirishima couldn't tell if he was intimidated or impressed - probably a little bit of both.
A weighted silence settled over the changing room, carrying the burden of their conversation momentarily, allowing Kirishima to think clearly. Not that that was a good thing.
"What about...what about your soulmate?" was the first thing that came out of Kirishima's stupid, stupid mouth. Kirishima didn't want to ask, he didn't, hated the part of him that wanted to, but he felt compelled to.
"They're annoying as shit," was Bakugo's blunt response, as if that answered anything. He sounded irritatingly satisfied with his answer.
"That doesn't give you the right to just abandon them!" Kirishima argued, digging the hole even deeper. What was he doing? Why the hell was he arguing? He wanted this!
"Don't be an idiot, Shitty Hair," Bakugo rolled his eyes, crossing his arms against his chest protectively, fingers tightening against his forearms. "I'm not abandoning shit."
"But-!"
Kirishima was interrupted by Bakugo muttering oh, for fuck's sake, lunging forward, pushing Kirishima up against the locker he'd just moved away from and, after his eyes took in the surprised look in Kirishima's own, kissed him.
With Bakugo's hands fisted into his shirt, pulling slightly on it to pull him closer, it occurred to Kirishima that he had possibly never wanted anything more in his life than he'd wanted this. Sure, it was over far too quickly, but just the pressure of lips on lips, the sensation of someone else being so close, so intimately invested in the other's feelings, and it made Kirishima's heart either speed up to the point he couldn't feel his heartbeat or stop completely, he wasn't sure. Electricity flowed through his veins, his heartbeat thudded in his throat, threatening to break loose, intertwine with Bakugo's and heal every crack and wound and never return.
He felt so warm, the sensation flooding through his body as his fists clenched at his sides, unsure of where to go - should he hold Bakugo? Put his arms around his neck, his waist? Touch his face?
No tongue, no teeth, and after a couple of seconds Bakugo pulled away before Kirishima got a chance to do any of those.
Honestly, Bakugo looked as shocked as he was, and a darker flush rose up from under his collar as he seemingly caught up with the situation and realised what he had just done. His eyes widened, then narrowed, as if he couldn't decide whether to be as flustered as Kirishima clearly was, or pissed off that Kirishima hadn't said anything in the ten seconds or so that ensued.
"God, Kirishima, how obvious do I need to fucking be?" With that, Bakugo grabbed Kirishima's arm and yanked up the sleeve, doing the same with his own and, as Kirishima did nothing but watch with a dumb sense of numbness in his head, scrawled across his forearm with his pinky.
Now Kirishima's heart definitely was beating, a rapid, thundering feeling that took over his entire body as, almost immediately, the same words appeared on his skin, mirrored to perfection. It took a long moment for Bakugo to finish writing, and another for Kirishima's brain to even register what his words said. He hadn't even processed what this meant, yet.
There, clearly written in Bakugo's neat, distinctive handwriting on his arm, were the words I'm in love with you. Then, they were gone, replaced with a single word.
Idiot.