Work Text:
I've been hearing symphonies
Before all I heard was silence
Bakugou Katsuki has never been one for noise.
Yeah, he yells and he stomps and he pounds and if shitty ass Deku is involved then he fuckin' blasts... but he has never been one for noise. He likes his peace and quiet. He enjoys quiet hours spent studying or training or just meditating. (Yes, he meditates. It takes a lot of goddamn meditating to not blow up all the fuckfaces he deals with everyday.) Lately though... he can't find peace in the silence.
Nowadays being alone and in silence makes him feel agitated, unsure, watched. If he was a fuckin' punk-ass runt like Deku, he might even say it frightens him. But he's not a fuckin' punk-ass runt like Deku, so he's not frightened. He's just... uneasy.
He would go see someone, but then what kinda hero would he be? Admitting to nearly shitting his pants any time he hears a noise in the dark, sleeping with the lights on, recurring nightmares? Everyone already treats him like he's fucking glass now, like hell he's gonna admit some shitty, second-rate villains got to him like this. That shit is for the birds and Bakugou likes to think of himself as a fuckin' phoenix. (Yes, he knows the phoenix is a goddamn bird. He means that he's not a regular ass loser bird, he's a tough ass flaming bird of legend who just comes back better after punk ass villains try to fuck with it.)
Bakugou's gonna come back like a phoenix, he's gonna bounce back from this. He's gonna go back to normal soon, he's gonna go back to enjoying his peace and quiet and solitude and he'll be all the better for it. But until soon becomes now, he'll go back to dealing with this shit the way he's been dealing with it.
"Yo, Shitty Hair. Open up!"
There was a time, before the Villain Raid, when Bakugou thought Kirishima actually slept. He doesn't exactly remember when he discovered he was wrong as hell. When you're constantly sleep deprived and having the same goddamn nightmare over and over again, multiple times a night, every night, time completely blurs and becomes irrelevant. So it doesn't matter when he was walking up and down the hallway trying to calm himself and heard Kirishima bouncing around to some shitty pop song. It only matters that he did and now he doesn't have to sneakily pace back and forth in the hallway during the middle of the night like some shitty serial killer in a B-rated movie, he can just watch Kirishima's weird ass bop around his room until his breathing slows down and his heart isn't pounding like he just ran a 5k. It ain't the best option.... but it ain't the worst. Kirishima is actually pretty nice to look at when he's straight out the shower and with his normally spiky-as-all-fucks hair down and freshly washed. ...Not that Bakugou thinks about that too often. It's a simple, objective observation. A very simple and very objective observation that was only made note of once and then never again. He doesn't think about that fact at all. Nope. Not him.
When Kirishima opens the door he looks wide awake and his face is pulled into one of those wide, dumbass smiles that makes Bakugou feel like he just caught a sucker punch to the gut. "Damn, dude. You're gonna wake the whole floor."
Bakugou rolls his eyes and pushes past him, careful not to make any unnecessary eye contact with him, because lately when he looks at Kirishima for too long his face gets unexplainably hot and his throat goes unnaturally dry. Bakugou thinks that he's having some kind of allergic reaction that's triggered by Kirishima's face, but he's never known any allergy to be triggered by just a visual, so he's looking into it. He hasn't found anything yet.
"Fuck off. If anything wakes the whole floor it'll be that shit you're blastin' from your phone." He unceremoniously plants himself on Kirishima's bed and stretches out like a spoiled cat.
They've got a rhythm.
Bakugou knocks. Kirishima answers. Bakugou insults his taste in music while lying down and watching him dance around the room. Kirishima laughs because complaining and cursing and huffing and puffing is just what Bakugou does and for some odd reason he seems to like it a lot. Then eventually the sun starts to rise and with it Bakugou's inner peace begins to manifest itself again after disappearing all night like a little bitch. Finally, Kirishima stifles a little yawn (Bakugou secretly finds it pleasantly amusing) so he excuses himself so Kirishima can nap for a bit before school starts and tries to do the same.
They've got a rhythm. It's a good one.
A rhapsody for you and me
And every melody is timeless
But tonight Kirishima changes it up.
"Bakugou," he simply says. Something about the way he begins makes the blond prickle with apprehension and dread.
"What?"
"Are you... Hm." The redhead is standing in the middle of the room, his crimson-colored eyes rolled to the ceiling as if searching for the right words to say in the cracks of the off-white paint. Bakugou thinks he looks fuckin' stupid like that, with his eyes wide and searching for an answer that's obviously not there like a dumbass deer caught in some fucker's headlights.
Bakugou thinks he looks fuckin' stupid but he also thinks that he looks sorta pretty with his red hair framing his babyish face and long eyelashes complimenting huge, doe-like eyes. It makes Bakugou's stomach twist for absolutely no reason at all.
"Spit it out, Hair-For-Brains. You look fuckin' stupid like that."
Kirishima's eyes unglue themselves from the ceiling and look directly into Bakugou's. He's still searching for something, but Bakugou doesn't know what and, on top of that, he feels like his allergy is getting ready to flare up again. "Are you okay? Like, you're always visiting late at night an—"
"If you don't want me here then just fuckin' say so, Shitty Hair, it's not fuckin' rocket science," Bakugou sneers. He's flashing his teeth menacingly in Kirishima's direction, but the other boy doesn't seem to notice. He seems to be realizing something, Bakugou can see the gears turning in his head, and he's starting to think Kirishima is a fuckin' idiot for not realizing that he can kick people out of his room whenever he wants.
"It's not that," Kirishima finally responds and now he's wearing one of those soft smiles that Bakugou wants to punch for being so disarming. "I like when you come over, I get to impress you with my dance moves and you get to pretend you don't like my music!" He laughs as the blond rolls his eyes and stretches out further on his bed.
"Fuck you. What's the problem then?"
"There is no problem. Just asking if you're okay..." Bakugou can see a contemplative look dawn on Kirishima's face again and he's about to say something, anything, to get him to shut up and fall back into rhythm when Kirishima unknowingly cuts him off. "Can I make you a playlist?" Bakugou thinks his voice is teetering on the edge of uncertainty, but he doesn't say anything.
"You have shit taste in music," he responds, deadpan, as he watches Kirishima walk over to his desk and pick up his phone. "I wouldn't even listen to it." Kirishima doesn't respond, just scrolls through the music folder on his phone like he always does, probably deciding which shitty synth-pop song he's going to flail around to next. Bakugou lets out a silent sigh, content now that they've fallen back into this rhythm they've created and perfected over the span of who-the-fuck-really-knows-how-long. He's ready to watch Kirishima dance until the sun rises while he badgers him with insults and teases that don't really mean anything besides the fact that he's grateful for his company and friendship. He appreciates the fact that Kirishima just knows that without him having to say a whole lot of that fuckin' sappy, gross stuff.
Kirishima knows a lot of things without Bakugou having to tell him, so he's not particularly surprised when Kirishima follows up on his own question after a few minutes of searching through his archives.
"My mom has bad nights sometimes." He doesn't say anything for a few beats after that but Bakugou can sense he's not done talking. "She had... a lot going on as a kid. She doesn't get them all the time, but they happen pretty often. When I found out I started sleeping in her room with her." Kirishima shakes his head disbelievingly. "I was so caught up in myself I didn't even realize she was driving herself half-crazy trying to operate on just one or two hours of sleep." He shakes his head again, but this time Bakugou recognizes it as a self-deprecating gesture and tries his best to step in before Kirishima can start to seriously beat himself up.
"Oi. Dumbass. That's not on you. She didn't want you to find out. She put up a front." Kirishima stops shaking his head and fixes Bakugou with a glassy stare. "That ain't your fault. People hide shit all the time."
Kirishima keeps staring. He stares at Bakugou until the blond is sure his whole face is an ugly shade of red. "What the fuck, Shitty Hair, did you break?"
Kirishima ignores him in favor of answering. Bakugou feels uneasy under the intensity of his gaze, but he'll be damned if he lets anyone punk his ass out so he just continues to stare back, hyper-conscious of the fact that his face gets hotter each passing second which probably means he's redder than a goddamn tomato right now.
He doesn't know how long they keep this up. Kirishima stuck in some type of demoralized trance and Bakugou, stubborn and defiant, challenging himself to hold the other's gaze until it doesn't burn him from the inside-out any longer.
He doesn't know how long they keep this up, but he spends what seems like an eternity gazing into pools of crimson. The burning never stops.
Abruptly, Kirishima switches gears and flashes Bakugou a heart-stopping, toothy grin. The blond flinches, the sudden change of atmosphere setting him on edge, and glares at the redheaded offender. "I'm gonna make you a playlist. My mom's is made up of classical music and when she first heard Moonli—"
"Fuck that."
"Okay then! No classical. What, then? R&B? Jazz? Country?" Bakugou sucks his teeth after hearing the last option and Kirishima giggles which, in turn, nearly gives Bakugou a damn heart palpitation. "Don't talk smack about country music, dude. It paved the way for Cowboy Casanova!"
"Just shut the fuck up and surprise me." Bakugou shifts on the bed so that his head is elevated by a pillow. "Now are you gonna dance or what, shithead?"
And then Kirishima does it again. The Thing. The thing where he smiles and Bakugou has to make sure he's still breathing and properly able to function. "Aw! You're so eager to watch me dance! Wanna special routine?" He pushes a button on his phone and the room is suddenly filled with a techno club beat. Moving his hips to the music, the redhead quickly finds his way over to Bakugou and suggestively strokes his arm.
Bakugou's face morphs into one of flat disapproval. "Touch me again and this whole room will go down in flames."
Kirishima laughs. "Your loss. This song has some hot choreo!" Bakugou bites his tongue and doesn't say anything because Kirishima's dumbass says that about every song, even the ever so rare ones about death or heartbreak.
He watches the sturdy hero begin to concentrate as he moves to the music with an intense deliberateness. Bakugou likes this part of his evening (morning?) where Kirishima stops being a goofy dumbass for more than two seconds and concentrates on perfecting the routine. It's kind of like watching him spar, but he's a lot more fluid in the comfort of his room and, of course, dancing is a ton less violent.
And now your song is on repeat...
He watches Kirishima turn and twist with the beat, in awe of how graceful he looks in spite of how broad and muscular he is. Bakugou is unsure of whether he can look like that while dancing, but he doesn't want to try, he's just fallen into the questionable habit of comparing himself to others at any and everything.
And I'm dancin' on to your heartbeat...
He doesn't want to try, but he thinks that maybe dancing with Kirishima would be... not too horrible.
He lets this thought float around in his mind while he watches Kirishima cycle through different songs and movements and dances until the sun starts to rise. He doesn't move to leave until Kirishima finally yawns.
They've got a rhythm. It's a good one.
I'm sorry if it's all too much...
"I fuckin' told you this was gonna happen, Shitty Hair!" It wasn't quite a yell as much as it was a huff... But you gotta give him a fuckin' break he just ran six blocks just to miss the goddamn bus.
"What kinda shit...?" Kirishima cries, completely ignoring Bakugou's angry huffs. "The app said it was gonna get here at 8:45, then it just ups and switches to 8:30? What the hell?" Kirishima drops the shopping bags he's holding onto the sidewalk and bends over at the waist to breathe better. "Damn. That was intense. I think I've been slacking on my cardio though. We've chased after villains for longer than five blocks, don'tcha think?"
"Six," Bakugou replies, now sitting on the curb next to Kirishima's bags.
"What?"
"We ran for six blocks, shitface. And of course you're gonna run faster and longer against villains, that's when your adrenaline really gets pumping. Dumbass." Bakugou deliberately spits out the last word with concentrated venom. It's not very often that Bakugou gets more than slightly irritated with Kirishima, but when he does it's because Kirishima is a fuckin' dummy. The blond had only very reluctantly agreed to go to the mall with him and he had the nerve to pull this shit.
Bakugou can't stand being out in rainy weather, it weakens his quirk, which puts him on edge even more than usual. And if that wasn't enough, the fuckface had dragged him out after the day was half-over. Usually Bakugou wouldn't mind but his new... problem... made him very apprehensive about going out close to or after dark. Kirishima had promised they would be back at the dorms before sunset, but apparently Kirishima's fuckin' shit at keeping promises because here he was, sitting outside on a curb, after dark, hoping to make it home before he could spiral into one of his episodes.
"Hm? I read adrenaline actually works against you in the long run." Kirishima straightens up and plops down next to Bakugou. The blond resists the urge to blow the other boy away as he places his head on Bakugou's shoulder. Kirishima exhaustedly mumbles something indecipherable as he musses up his own damp hair. Bakugou can't tell if Kirishima is purposely ignoring how fuckin' pissed he is or if he really was just as dense as his hardened form.
"You know what else works against you in the long run? Not fuckin' listening to me. I told your dumbass we didn't have time to hit 'one more store!'" The voice he mimics Kirishima with is noticeably higher pitched and faster in pace and the sturdy hero laughs brightly at the impression. Bakugou wants to be angry, but the laughter ringing in his ear is making his chest feel funny. Shit's weird.
"You think I sound like a hyperactive chipmunk?" The other boy continues to laugh, the sound temporarily distracting the blond from the reality that he was close to having a panic attack being so exposed to the darkness. He sinks further into his oversized hoodie and tries to focus on the last little sighs of laughter that escape the boy next to him while regulating his breathing. He could fucking do this. The next bus was in... what... in just another hour? He could fuckin' do this. What kinda hero would he be if he couldn't fuckin' do this?
"Bakugou?"
The voice sounded very distant and foreign even though he knew that it was probably Kirishima's and the other boy couldn't be but so far away.
"Are you okay? Can you hear me?" Though the voice was muted, Bakugou could hear the mounting distress in its tone.
Bakugou's response gets caught in his throat. He's being restricted. Paralyzed. Silenced.
He's sinking into the damp darkness around him being smothered. The silence and emptiness of the small side street strangle him, trying to drag him somewhere even darker than midnight. He can hear himself fighting back. The noises he makes are choked and rough and agonizing and gross. Shit. He couldn't even hold it together for ten minutes. Shit. Fuck. Fuck.
He wonders what's going to happen to him. How could his hero career be over before it fucking starts? He can't feel anything, but Bakugou knows his chest should be aching with the weight of failure. He can't even go to the fucking mall without falling apart to imaginary demons. He hates how it all came to this. He hates how it all came to him being curled up into a ball on the sidewalk, the textbook definition of mental frailty, trying to somehow escape terrors that can't be out-ran.
How does he overcome something like this?
Life was stringing me along
Then you came and you cut me loose
Suddenly, he picks up a very distinct rhapsody. The sound is still distant, even more distant than Kirishima's voice had been however long ago, but he can feel it start to reel him in, bring him back to the surface.
Bakugou recognizes it as some sort of pop-rap beat. The tone of it is bright, optimistically so, slowly but surely empowering his psyche. He thinks the song will continue on as an instrumental but a confident voice starts to skate out over the track and a story begins to be told, accompanied by skillful wordplay and cocky affirmations. The song plays on and on and on. After each verse the world starts to feel more palpable and real. Bakugou notes that the song plays about five times on repeat before he feels human again.
Was solo, singing on my own
Now I can't find the key without you
He realizes his head is in Kirishima's lap when he finally comes back into himself. The other boy is mindlessly reciting the words of the song while stroking his hair. Bakugou thinks that Kirishima's touch is much too feather-light for a boy as rough-and-tough as he is, but he likes the way Kirishima's fingers gently rake through his hair. He sighs as the redhead continues to twirl his fingers through his mane.
"Are you back?" Kirishima's voice is soft, too soft, like Bakugou is made of glass and it irritates him.
"Don't fuckin' patronize me," Bakugou sneers but he feels kinda stupid, because you can't properly curse someone out while having your head in their lap and they're stroking your hair. It's just weird. Improper, really, but he barrels on anyway. "This is your fault anyway, Shitty Hair. You drag me out here in the goddamn rain and I didn't even punch the shit outta you. All I said was, 'have me back in my fuckin' room before nine.' And what did you fuckin' do? I don't even fuckin' remember but you obviously didn't do that. Shit. Shit, Kirishima. Fuck."
Bakugou doesn't expect Kirishima to respond to him. He's just talking, filling a void in himself with noise and curses and accusations so he doesn't have to think about how he just fuckin' spazzed out in the middle of the street. He actually doesn't blame Kirishima for anything besides being a predictable dumbass. Bakugou knew that they weren't going to get back to UA before dark. They left the dorms too late in the day, public transportation is too unreliable, and Kirishima likes to shop until he, quite literally, drops.
If he's being completely honest with himself, Kirishima could've asked Bakugou to jump off the highest building in Japan with that signature wide, dumbass smile and Bakugou would huff and puff and yell and stomp.... but he would've still done it.
"It's not very manly to go back on your word," Kirishima responds softly. His hand stops working in Bakugou's hair. The blond nearly takes the opportunity to shift and look up at the other boy's face but then Kirishima's hand starts moving again, slower than before and more deliberate. "That's, like, the unmanliest thing ever. I'm sorry. I should've listened. Like, really listened." Bakugou once more moves to say something, but he's interrupted, again, by Kirishima's listless voice. "I'm always missing shit that's right in front of me..."
Bakugou isn't very good at comforting and he hasn't stumbled upon too many situations where he's actually had to. He figures that people can either suck it the fuck up or power through it, like he does. But hearing Kirishima sound so deflated and hopeless makes him regret being so emotionally inept.
Fortunately though, Bakugou doesn't really like to dwell on all that 'regret' and 'sadness' shit, so he sucks it the fuck up and powers through it.
"Who raps this?"
"What?"
"Who the fuck raps this? You don't speak Japanese now?"
"Oh," Kirishima replies sounding a little more normal. "Nicki Minaj."
"The chick with the crazy ass wigs and shit?"
Bakugou startles when Kirishima suddenly gasps and pushes him off his lap with a forceful shove to his head.
"WHAT THE FUCK, HAIR-FOR-BRAINS? YOU WANNA FUCKIN' DIE?"
Kirishima pulls his face into one of scandalized indignation, ignoring the immediate threat on his life. "You're a heathen. I can't believe you just said that. That was The Pinkprint era! We're currently in NM4 territory right now, dude." Kirishima grabs his phone off the sidewalk and starts scrolling through his musical archive, oblivious to the death stare being leveled at him. "Actually, this song is from The Pinkprint, but you're more of a Roman Reloaded kinda guy." He pauses from scrolling to look at the blond seething beside him. "You're obviously really uncultured, so I know you don't get it, but that's a compliment."
"You're one smartass comment away from getting the shit blasted outta you."
"That's not very heroic," the redhead teases. "And anyways if you blast the shit out of me you'll never get to hear the playlist I just finished for you."
Something akin to excitement churns in Bakugou's gut but, like the emotionally repressed stud he is, he forcefully silences the fluttery feeling at his core so he can respond without sounding breathless. "Fuckin' finally. It's been a week."
"Sorry. I was putting thought into it. Everyone's musical palette is different. It takes time." He hums along to the beat of another Nicki song, this time the tone of it is intimidating; the lyrical punches sound mocking and critical. "Do you like this one? It reminds me of you."
And now your song is on repeat...
For the first time in a long while Bakugou is grateful for the darkness around him that shields his heavy blush from view. "Why the fuck are you thinkin' 'bout me while you're listenin' to your shitty music?"
"Mmm... I don't know. Some songs just remind me of you. It's not a bad thing. I like this song." Kirishima continues to hum along, bouncing his head to the beat. He doesn't say anything else after that and neither does Bakugou. He decides to just listen and tries to internalize the emotional perseverance being preached in the lyrics. Halfway through the song he starts to wonder how Kirishima could listen to such a track and be reminded of him. The lyrics are strong and smart, able to hold on their own even without such an enigmatic beat, and the voice delivering them is confident and unwavering. He tries to think of something he's done or said to match up to such a power anthem and comes up short.
He feels overwhelmingly hopeful.
Kirishima knows a lot of things without anyone having to tell him. He operates on instinct more often than he doesn't and it always works out. Bakugou remembers Aizawa once labeling Kirishima as 'emotionally intelligent' after he scored particularly high on a Civilian Interaction field course. He finds himself fond of that particular assessment of the sturdy hero's strength.
Kirishima knows a lot of things and he knows a lot about people. If Kirishima thinks of him as strong, even after realizing how fuckin' weird and half-broken he is, then he is strong. He will be strong. And Bakugou fuckin' Katsuki has never been one to disappoint.
And I'm dancin' on to your heartbeat...
Pretty soon he notices that Kirishima must have the song on an endless loop because it starts playing again from the beginning. He leans backwards and props himself up on his forearms settling into a relaxed position while he listens to Nicki break out into the first verse yet again.
He doesn't mind though. It's a nice rhythm.
I've been hearing symphonies
Before all I heard was silence
In the two weeks after Bakugou finally receives his custom-made playlist from Kirishima, he only has five nightmares.
Three out of the five nightmares were diluted versions of the real deal. They were still disturbing and one of them even caused him to trigger his quirk in his sleep (Bakugou is a fuckin' trooper though, he doesn't even need a damn bed frame) but they didn't keep him up all night like they usually do. He matched his breathing to the music softly playing from his speakers, focused on whatever lyrics floated from his phone's charging deck, and quietly hummed himself out of each panic attack. The remaining two nightmares were worse and those actually did keep him up all night, but he didn't feel the need to pace up and down the hallway or knock on Kirishima's door. He just laid in bed and started memorizing each track on the playlist he had been given. It wasn't the best option... but it wasn't the worst. He was just grateful for the bits of peace he was finally able to take back.
The playlist also helps with going out at night. Running on the track after dark required a new level of mental fortitude and self-control than it previously had but Bakugou Katsuki has never been a fuckin' punk, so for two weeks he steels himself each night for a battle.
He soon falls into a rhythm.
Each evening starts with the bubbly rap song that pulled him out of his panic attack at the bus stop. He plays the song on repeat while heading to the outdoor track and doesn't change it until he's finished psyching himself up. He does his stretches and warm ups to the sound of a generic sounding rock song. It's his least favorite song on the playlist, but it's obnoxious and domineering and it keeps him grounded in reality so he cranks up the volume of his headphones and just rolls with it.
When he finally gets around to running, he switches to an instrumental. It's airy and light, soft but purposeful. Though he's as musically inclined as a rock, Bakugou truly recognizes the beauty of the song and its melody. It's a gem of an instrumental and his favorite song on the playlist. It's a pretty tune. Relaxing, strong, comforting.
It reminds him of Kirishima.
A rhapsody for you and me
And every melody is timeless
Thoughts of the redhead constantly flood his mind while he sprints through the darkness, bolting headfirst into uncharted emotional territory.
Bakugou isn't dumb, not even a little, but where people like Kirishima and Deku are 'emotionally perceptive,' he is obtuse as fuck.
So it takes him a week, a few dozen google searches, and a Saturday afternoon of typing in various symptoms on WebMD to finally come to the conclusion that maybe he has a little, tiny, incredibly miniscule crush on his best friend. (WebMD said that he had a mild traumatic brain injury, but Recovery Girl tells him that all he has is a case of stupid and swats him out of her office murmuring something about getting "at least one clueless moron every week.")
When he finally comes to this conclusion, it doesn't bother him as much as he thinks it would. And why would it? Kirishima is one of the strongest in class, he's smart, he's funny, he gets along well with nearly everyone (especially girls which makes Bakugou bristle with unexpected possessiveness), and he actually puts up with all of his vulgarity and rudeness without insult or complaint. He comes to the conclusion that the redheaded hero is a godsend while concentrating on the gentle melody coloring the threatening silence.
Life was stringing me along
Then you came and you cut me loose
He thinks back to the nights he's spent in Kirishima's room finding serenity and watching the other boy dance until dawn. He wonders if that's what being with someone is like.
He wonders if it feels like finding peace and strength in another person's company and support, standing in awe of all of what they are and feeling pleasure knowing that the sentiment is reciprocated. After awhile he concludes that if that's what it's like then that's some real sappy ass, Hallmark movie shit.
But he'd be down to try that sappy ass, Hallmark movie shit with Kirishima. He means... It doesn't sound too bad and anything he does with Kirishima ends up being pretty enjoyable anyway, so maybe they could make shit up as they go along.
If Kirishima wanted to, he means.
Was solo, singing on my own
Now I can't find the key without you
He finishes his last lap around the track and decides to go stop by the redhead's room for the first time in two weeks. Butterflies erupt at his core as he heads back into the dorm, but the playful instrumental helps him to keep his nerves from fraying.
And now your song is on repeat...
He stops in the kitchen to find something to eat and comes up short. The only thing available to eat that he doesn't have to fry or bake is a carton of strawberry ice cream. He's not particularly fond of sweets, but Kirishima is and he is on a mission to woo the dumbass, so he takes out two bowls and starts scooping.
He's so concentrated on his task that he doesn't notice a gaping Izuku standing in the entryway. "Uhhh... Kacchan? That's, uh, that's mine. I was actually gonna e—"
"Keep it movin', shitty nerd. It's mine now." Bakugou doesn't even look up from the counter, he continues to scoop, expecting Izuku to scamper back to wherever he came from. He's unpleasantly surprised to hear him open his mouth again.
"Since when do you eat sweets?" The blond rolls his eyes, continuing to ignore the other boy. He finishes scooping ice cream into one bowl and starts on filling the second when he hears a tiny gasp. "Are you stress eating, Kacchan?" The freckled boy's emerald eyes go wide with concern. "I-if you're having... uh, trouble or, uh, adjustment issues? My mother just started sending me to a therapist a-and he's pretty g—"
"Shut the fuck up." A pause. "What's his name?"
Izuku looks like he's torn between shutting the fuck up and actually answering the question. After a few seconds' delay, he decides to answer.
"Masaru Takahiro. You'd like him, I think." The shorter boy leans against the entryway and Bakugou can see him mulling something over in his head. He waits.
"Do you want his information, Kacchan? I can slip his card under your door."
Bakugou finishes filling the second bowl and closes the carton of ice cream. He grabs three spoons from a drawer; he places one spoon in each bowl and puts the remaining one on top of the carton. Picking up the bowls he walks towards the entryway and pushes past Izuku, walking in the direction of Kirishima's room.
"Yeah, you do that. And if you tell anyone about this I'll blast your fuckin' brains out, Deku. So go in there, eat the rest of your shit, and forget you even saw me."
"Okay. You can expect it before midnight." Izuku stands in the kitchen now eating ice cream straight out of the carton. He probably figures that there isn't enough left to bother with a bowl.
Bakugou glances once more at Izuku before continuing to walk down the hallway. Over his shoulder he says, "I'll buy you another one tomorrow, shithead. Not that brand, though. Don't you have any workin' tastebuds? Shit's gross."
Izuku's gentle laughter harmonizes with the uplifting melody still pulsing through his headphones. It's nice.
He bounces his head to the rhythm.
I'm sorry if it's all too much
Every day you're here, I'm healing
"So you're definitely gonna go?" Kirishima licks his spoon clean and leans back on the headboard of his bed. His hair is wet and dripping water everywhere. Bakugou watches him from the desk across the room and wonders why his dumbass doesn't get a towel. "That's great, dude! I was getting worried. I'm glad you're feeling better, but it's still good to go see someone." He squirms as water from his hair runs in rivulets down the back of his neck. "Taking care of your mental health is super manly. Don't doubt it."
"Drying your hair is super manly too," Bakugou mocks, rolling his eyes. "Get a fuckin' towel, dipshit, I'm tired of watchin' you wiggle around."
The redhead snorts good-naturedly at the tease. "I need to do laundry; I used my last towel this morning. I'll just air dry tonight, it's not a big deal." He wipes his neck with the shirt he's wearing and leans back into the headboard again.
"I can go get you a towel, Shitty Hair."
"No, it's fine. Really." The redhead absentmindedly clinks his spoon against his bowl and it makes a chime-like sound. "I missed you being here anyways," he says and he's so caught up in laughing after the fact that he doesn't notice Bakugou flushing pink. "If I send you away again, you might disappear for another two weeks!" Dramatically flailing on the bed, he clutches his heart in melodramatic fashion. "You used me for my impeccable music taste and never looked back."
Now it's Bakugou who squirms, feeling embarrassed and annoyed. "Fuck off, Hair-For-Brains. We go to the same school, we're in the same class, we live in the same building." He launches his spoon at Kirishima's face and the other boy activates his quirk just in time for the spoon to bounce off his hardened skin. He giggles as the violent offender flips him off.
"Eew, that was sticky. And, yeah, I know that, but it's not the same. It's okay, though. I like seeing you any way I can." Then he does The Thing with That Smile and Bakugou thinks that for the first time in his entire life he might need a goddamn inhaler.
And I was runnin' out of luck
I never thought I'd find this feeling
Once his lungs start acting like they know how to work again, he pulls out his phone and connects it to the bluetooth speaker sitting on the desk. "Shitty Hair," he starts as he scrolls through his playlist looking for the track he wants to play. "Why doesn't this song have a title?" He hits the play button on his phone before Kirishima can fix his lips to ask, what song?
The enchanting tune fills the room, slowly gaining in tempo the longer it plays. Bakugou watches Kirishima's face dust an almost indiscernible shade of pink. "Oh, this one? I can't remember what it's called. I think it might be 'Sonata,' or something like that." The redhead blinks owlishly. "Why?"
'Cause I've been hearing symphonies
Before all I heard was silence
"Because I like it, dumbass." Bakugou pauses before he speaks again. He closes his eyes and focuses on the springy melody of the song, letting it wash over him, until he feels confident enough to speak again. When he opens his eyes again he gazes directly into Kirishima's.
"It makes me think of you."
If Bakugou wasn't so damn nervous he would find the way that Kirishima's face turned as red as his hair hilarious. The sturdy hero looks incredibly flustered and Bakugou grudgingly admits to himself that no other words can accurately describe the other boy at this moment other than 'fuckin' cute.'
"Oh?"
"Yeah, Shitty Hair. Did you break again?"
"It's just... uh, well..." Kirishima starts squirming again, but this time Bakugou can tell it's not because of the water running down his neck.
"Spit it out," he encourages.
"It's a love song."
A rhapsody for you and me
And every melody is timeless
Bakugou can feels his cheeks warming as he carefully enunciates his next words. "Then it fits."
He forces himself to keep his eyes on the other boy's face. He watches on with a sickening feeling of dread pooling in his stomach as Kirishima's mouth slowly moves into the shape of an 'O.' The instrumental continues to steadily play in the background, shielding Bakugou from an ugly silence.
And now your song is on repeat
And I'm dancin' on to your heartbeat
Neither of them speak for so long that Bakugou is ready to sulk back to his own room. He's so deep in thought (trying to figure out how the fuckin' hell he was gonna backtrack tomorrow) that he doesn't notice Kirishima flying off his bed towards him.
And when you're gone, I feel incomplete...
Even without his quirk, Kirishima is a very solid boy; all of his training and workouts help to keep him as robust as humanly possible. So when he flings himself at Bakugou without warning, the leaner boy finds himself thinking he's been somehow hit by a dump truck.
"THIS IS CRAZY. I WAS JUST TELLING DENKI HOW I THOUGHT I WAS GONNA BE PINING AFTER YOU FOREVER." Kirishima's huge arms are wrapped around Bakugou's body successfully trapping the smaller boy in a smothering bear hug. "AT FIRST I THOUGHT YOU WERE BEING FUNNY, BUT THEN YOU DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING ELSE SO I WAS LIKE 'WOAH!'"
"Mmmff 'orrr fikkin'sss!"
"SHIT, KATSUKI. I DIDN'T THINK ANYONE COULD JUST CONFESS SO PLAINLY. CAN THAT EVEN BE CALLED A CONFESSION?"
"Moooooofff yor 'UCKIN'ssss!"
"OH, WAIT. IS IT OKAY IF I CALL YOU KATSUKI NOW? I CALL YOU THAT IN MY HEAD BU--"
"MOVE YOUR FUCKING ASS! CAN YOU HEAR, SHITFACE?" Bakugou struggles to talk against Kirishima's torso. He looks like he's been through a struggle. His hair is haphazardly stuck to his face and his face is forcefully pressed against Kirishima's chest. "Move your fat ass now."
"I can't do that. I've been dreaming of this moment since the Sports Festival," the redhead sighs dreamily and rests his cheek softly on the blond's head. "And I'm cut like a knife, babe. There's not a piece of fat on me."
"Don't start with the fuckin' pet names, Shitty Hair. I'm not doing that sap ass shit, so drop it."
"Hm. We'll talk about it later then, babe," the redhead giggles as Bakugou pinches his arm. His hands start working at the back of the blond's neck, twirling curly strands of hair around his fingers. "You smell nice, Katsuki."
Underneath him the other boy wrinkles his nose almost immediately. "You're fuckin' gross. I just ran around the track for two hours."
Kirishima shrugs. "'S'a manly smell," he slurs softly. The two are pressed so close together that Bakugou can feel each breath he takes. They're erratically paced at first, but eventually the gradual evenness threatens to lull him to sleep. He realizes, after awhile, that Kirishima's breathing has become so evenly paced because he's fallen asleep.
So if you want the truth...
He allows himself to smile and begins to find comfort in the solidity of the sturdier boy's frame, reveling in the scent of woodsiness and cinnamon on his skin.
I just wanna be part of your symphony!
Bakugou closes his eyes and focuses on Kirishima's heartbeat and how familiar it sounds. He lets the gentleness of its song sweep over him as he marvels at how simple and reassuring it is. The beat drums on with a pattern and pace that's almost unnaturally rhythmic. He listens to it oscillate and coalesce with the ever-looping melody softly playing in the background. The beat within the other boy's chest and the rhapsody filling the room become one.
Will you hold me tight and not let go?
As the pull of slumber becomes too much to resist Bakugou commits the beat playing in Kirishima's chest to memory. He should know his favorite song by heart.
Symphony!
That sounds like some sappy, over-romantic bullshit but it's the truth. And the truth has a pretty damn good rhythm.
Like a love song on the radio...
.
.
.
Will you hold me tight and not let go?