Thread by @berrryshima, > W H I T E F O N T

> W H I T E F O N T <

Bakugou has always had the best ideas, but typing down "I like you a lot." and hiding them in white font in between Kirishima& #39;s essays isn& #39;t one of them.

“I really like you, Kirishima.” Bakugou types. “I think I’ve liked you since first year.”

With a satisfied nod, Bakugou highlights his sentence; a translucent blue over his words, and hovers the computer pointer towards the font color; a solid white bar under a capital A, and clicks on it. The words he’s typed down blinks away, masked under the white of the document.

His eyes shift towards the word count displayed on the bottom left, a nice 2000 staring at him, saves the file, and prints it too: the slender machinery in his dorm room coming to life as it withdraws the essay on crisp clean paper.

Bakugou slides across the short distance, the wheels of his chair squeaking as he did; taking a mental note to get it repaired over the weekend, and catches the swishing paper before it hits the ground.

“Nice catch!”

Bakugou whips his head towards the voice, brows furrowed as he spots Kirishima grinning at him with his arms crossed standing by his open door, letting all the cool air out.

“Close the door.”

Kirishima steps inside, kicking the door close. “Sorry.”

“Paper.” Bakugou says, Kirishima’s work in his hands. “You owe me. Your essay was short, Mic-sensei checks the word count, you know that.”

“What did you type?” Kirishima flips his paper around; scanning the sentences, missing how Bakugou’s cheeks flush pink at the question.

“You don’t need to know.”

“Bakugou, was there something wrong with my file?”

“What? No.”

“Oh.” Kirishima squints his eyes, scratching the paper. “Is your printer out of ink?”

“No.” Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Is there a problem, Kirishima?”

“None at all!” Kirishima stands upright and grins, hiding the paper behind his back. “I wouldn’t bother you about it! You already printed and kinda finished my essay so…” He points his lips. “Thanks for that by the way and-”

“Spit it out.”

Kirishima sighs and shows his paper, walking to Bakugou like a kid in trouble. “There’s a weird space between this paragraph and this one.” Kirishima points. “It’s like there was something supposed to be there, but there’s none?”

“Who cares.” Bakugou looks away, trying to act as nonchalant as he could, shooing away Kirishima’s concern with a wave of his hand. “Mic never reads the physical paper, he’s only doing that for portfolio purposes, that’s why we have e-submissions.”

“Really?”

“Would you take hours out of your personal time to check if your student reached 2000 word count on physical paper?”

“Well…”

“No, you wouldn’t.” Bakugou says, eyes widen a fraction. “Well, /you/ would.” He corrects himself. “But Mic wouldn’t.”

“If you say so.” Kirishima scratches his head, and offers an apologetic smile.

“I know so.” Bakugou shrugs his shoulders. “And even if there was something there. It’s not there for a reason, idiot.”

“What does that mean?” Kirishima squints his eyes and leans forward, and Bakugou grips the cushions of his chair, his nails digging in the foam, making it a point to lean away. “That sounds super weird coming from you.”

“You’re super weird.” Bakugou forces himself to keep eye contact; anything to keep Kirishima from even glancing at how his lip quivered nervously. “Shut up, get out of my room.”

“That’s sus, Bakugou!” Kirishima points an accusing finger, Bakugou’s eyes cross as it nears the bridge of his nose.

Bakugou swats his hands away.

“I’m never printing any of your shit again.”

“Wait! Nevermind!” Kirishima retracts, gripping his paper tight, stepping away from the blonde. “Totally not sus, totally!”

“Get out of my room.”

Kirishima rapidly nods, swings the door open, and sprints to his room. “Thanks Bakugou!” He roars before shutting his own door.

“Didn’t even close my door.” Bakugou mumbles, hopping out of his seat to do so.

A deep relieved sigh escapes him as he does, sliding down his wall.

“Fuck, that was too close.”

It all started with a printer—a proud purchase.

It was to be expected, the Hero Course still had to comply with the requirements set in all schools; that meant essays, reaction papers, (answers copied and pasted from the internet), and other major papers like thesis.

It wasn’t much to put up with; he would write pages and pages of how he felt about the Hero Commission, but he didn& #39;t like wasting time.

Now with his printer, he didn’t have to leave campus to print, and run back and forth for any corrections he might have.

And he, truth be told, was fucking proud of his printer that he wanted to boast about it.

To Kirishima, hearing about the new printer somehow meant that he is granted the opportunity to burst in Bakugou’s room (past his bedtime) with a USB drive in hand and an essay to print.

It didn’t mean that at all, but Bakugou didn’t mind.

It was Kirishima, his self-appointed best friendーcould you say no to him?

And that& #39;s where it started.

He couldn’t recall what had conjured him to start writing love confessions in Kirishima’s paper, but something akin to a pent-up release rushed through him when he did.

It started small; a simple “I like your hair today.” before the first paragraph had started.

It& #39;s true!

Kirishima’s hair was always something he liked. It stood so proud like a crown on his head, had everyone turn their heads when he had walked in, and it resembled the fire

from the Sports Festival openingーwhere he had let Kirishima’s personal nickname slip.

His hair wasn’t actually shitty. It was pretty, most especially when he let it down and wrapped that white bandana around his forehead

(which made the red even brighter. Admittedly mind-boggling) and…well, he felt the need to tell him, but he couldn’t.

No surprise there.

He could never say that he’s been admiring him from afar. He’d scare Kirishima right off, and he would rather bite his arm off than allow that to happen.

And yet, he types that down, and something in him didn’t want to erase it.

Bakugou had to do come up with something, and masking it as an indentation to the document sounded fool-proof.

Font color: White.

ーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーー

Poof!
Gone!

Sorta.

The good thing was Kirishima didn’t know anything about it.

With his paper printed, and his feelings expressed in some sort of wayーBakugou knew he had found a way to release the suppressed crush he had for his best friend.

Kirishima looked at his paper, then back at the laptop propped on his lap; an index finger dragging across the screen as it skims through the sentences of his English paper.

Something was definitely off.

“There isn’t even an indention here…” Kirishima mumbles, careful with the sheet of paper as he nitpicks with a hardened finger. “It doesn’t look like I need it either…” He tilts the paper, to the left then to the right. “Maybe I do? Bakugou did put it there.”

Kirishima bites his bottom lip hard. “It doesn’t make sense!”

With a frustrated huff, Kirishima scrambles off of his bed; his paper on top of the laptop he carefully brings as he stands up, looking around for his slippers before heading outside.

If he can’t get it, maybe he can ask Bakugou and then he can teach him about the basics of essay-writing.

Kirishima approaches Bakugou’s door.

Knocks once, twice and then finally three times.

“Bakugou?” Kirishima calls out. “Hey, could you like...teach me or tell me why my essays are all weirdly spaced? Is it some Western thing you’ve read about?”

No one answers.

“Bakugou?” Kirishima repeats, twisting the door knob; surprised to find it unlocked. “Oh?”

Now usually, Kirishima would have gone and entered Bakugou& #39;s room with a knock or two to warn him.

But it was 11:30PM and even //he// knew not to mess with the blonde’s carefully crafted sleep schedule.

It went with his personalized meal plan and customized training routine: that’s what made him so strong, tough and one of the manliest he’s so lucky to know.

Kirishima sometimes daydreams of how great of a pro-hero Bakugou would be, and (not to rush things) how great of a pair

they’d make defeating villains together.

Maybe they’d even build an agency together. Will they have interns too?

He could be the chill pro-hero and Bakugou can set the discipline and rules.

Kirishima catches himself smiling goofily, pushing his thoughts to the side; they can be his daydream fuel next time, and enters Bakugou’s room.

Nothing seemed out of place except for the absence of a green hamper usually on the edge of his bed. Bakugou must be collecting his laundry: he did prioritize Kirishima’s essay over the chore.

The thought sends butterflies to his stomach, and he almost finds it dumb to compare

himself to laundry.

But this was Bakugou he’s talking about, getting to pinpoint affectionate actions was like trying to find a crumb of bread in an empty drawer.

Kirishima considers leaving, maybe come back after 15 minutes, but Bakugou’s lit desktop screen catches his attention and he feels an idea come to mind.

“I should have brought my USB.” Kirishima clicks his tongue.

Maybe the device was to blame as to why his format was all wonky.

He could simply compare what he sees on screen with what Bakugou has on his.

Maybe, email Mic-sensei about the few errors in his essay.

Luckily enough, Bakugou’s password was incredibly easy to guess. It was his name, after all!

Well, Kirishima wishes it was his name, but Bakugou keeps saying that it’s because of the mountain that he wishes to climb one day.

Kirishima grins as the copy of his essay is flashed on screen. It looked almost the same, except it looked like a few words were added in.

He navigates towards the edit history, clicks on it and finds himself confused as to the abundance of font color changes.

“What?” Kirishima mumbles, arrow hovering over the undo button. “What’s this? What& #39;s with the font color?”

“Kirishima!”

Despite not doing anything criminal, Kirishima jumps at the voice and steps back, almost losing his balance.

His head whips to the door where a panicked Bakugou stands, the green hamper full of dry clothes scatter at his feet.

“Oh!” Kirishima is relieved, it was just Bakugou. “Hey, dude.”

“What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

I just wanted to look into my document because it was really weird looking and-”

Bakugou stomps over to his desktop, exits the open window and shoots Kirishima with a glare scarier than his usual ones.

“I’m doing you a fucking favor aren’t I?” Bakugou grumbles and

Kirishima doesn’t notice the red tips of his ear. “I’m printing and editing your paper, is that not enough, do you not trust me?”

“Woah!” Kirishima exclaims, a bit offended. “That’s not it, Bakugou. I’m just-”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Bakugou stands in front of his computer, wrapping his hands around himself, as if to protect both him and the machine. “What makes you think you can just … look into my computer huh? Did you see anything? What if you saw something?”

“Bakugou, relax.” Kirishima frowns, he’s used to Bakugou’s defensive nature; this one, however, is rubbing him the wrong way. “I’m not gonna snoop into your things.”

“What were you clicking around with?!”

“I just saw that there were a lot of font changes in the edit history!”

“Did you look into them?!”

“Why? Is there something you aren’t telling me?” Kirishima squints at him and continues. “Are you typing things into my essay? Do you want me to get expelled?”

“What?!”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. You’re the one being defensive over… I don’t know, hiding stuff in my paper.”

“I’m not hiding stuff in your paper.” Bakugou sputters, tries to keep calm. “You’re being paranoid.”

“Yeah, and you’re being weird!”

Kirishima rolls his eyes and Bakugou suddenly feels silly for whatever it was he’s doing, but he’s gone too far now.

“Shut up, don’t ask me to do anything for you again.” Bakugou grumbles, he kinda hopes Kirishima didn’t hear it; the jaw drop says otherwise.

“Fine.” Kirishima says, storming out. “I could have my papers printed elsewhere anyway! You think you’re the only one in the dorm with a printer?!”

“Then why are you still bothering me?”

Kirishima pauses mid-step, turns to Bakugou and frowns even deeper.

“Maybe I wanted to spend time with you, I don’t know! Whatever, forget it!"

Bakugou could only stare at the clothes left by the hallway as he hears Kirishima& #39;s door slam shut.

Oh. He messed up, didn& #39;t he?

Kirishima gets his papers printed somewhere else, and Bakugou fucking hates it.

Bakugou had feared their friendship was over after that dumb fight they had that night, but then come the next day, Kirishima does the unexpected and apologizes to him.

“You’re right.” he said. “I shouldn’t have been touching your stuff without permission like that.”

Bakugou couldn’t find the right response for that, so he nodded and Kirishima grins at him again.

They walked to class that day, ate lunch together, sparred as usual and even walked back to the dorms together.

And when Mic had announced that he had emailed back all of the essays they’ve submitted (with comments to improve grammar).

Kirishima reports to him that his grades aren& #39;t bad thanks to the last-minute edits he& #39;s done.

That made Bakugou think that everything was all right between them.

It was back to the normal he thought he& #39;d lose.

Until Midnight had assigned them another paper; a gruesome research and reaction paper on artists who used art quirks to gain fame and recognition, was it fair or unfair?

Bakugou calculated it would take at least a minimum of 5 pages for the research alone (and in single space too), so he should run to the store and get papers for printing.

And just as usual, he asks Kirishima to come along with him.

“I don’t have enough paper for the both of us.” Bakugou reasons out.

“Oh. That’s okay, Bakugou!” Kirishima smiles. “I took up Yaoyorozu& #39;s offer to have my paper printed!"

And it was something ridiculous to feel shitty over, but here he was; hunched over, a deep scowl on, the most uninteresting assignment on-screenーfeeling incredibly shitty.

The thought of Kirishima getting help from other people wasn’t supposed to feel as awful yet it does.

Bakugou should be glad. Now, he didn’t have to spend more time correcting grammar and making spell checks.

At least now, his ink and paper wouldn’t finish twice as fast.

That also meant, no one was going to burst in his room past 8:30 going: “Bakugou! Can I please have this printed! I’ll buy you a snack tomorrow!” with the most charming smile.

No one was going to look at him like some grace from above when he unjams the paper.

No one was going to rigidly sway from side to side mimicking the ink cartridges as it does its job.

And that also meant there was no paper to sneak his bottled up feelings in.

Fuck, he felt so lonely.

Bakugou groans and lays his head on the study table then he stares at the LED clock as it goes from 8:30 to 8:31. He should be asleep, but out of routine, he’s staying up with the hope that some redhead would come crashing in.

Instead, he only feels worse as he hears Kirishima’s door swing open, the nervous chuckle, the sound of his steps getting louder as it draws closeーBakugou holds his breathーand moves past his door, and the unmistakable chime of the elevator makes him slump.

“I can print it for you, damn it.” Bakugou whines, and he hates it.

He hates feeling the way he did over this. Someone else was printing his papers, he shouldn’t care!

But, goddamnit, he does! And hell will freeze over before he allows that to just happen.

Bakugou scrambles off of the floor and sprints outside.

“Kirishima!” He calls out, catching the redhead by surprise. His red hair was down, and whilst the signature white bandana was nowhere to be seen, he still looked just as soft.

Bakugou tries not to get distracted.

“Let me do it.” Bakugou tightens his fist. “Let me print your damn homework.”

Kirishima laughs, and it makes him feel a bit silly, but he stands his ground. “I’m not playing around.”

“Bakugou, it’s fine!” Kirishima exclaims, a USB in his hand. “This is something else, you

don’t have to worry about it.”

Bakugou takes a big step forward. “Let me do it.”

“You really don’t have to.”

He takes another step forward. “Well, I want to.”

“Bakugou, really, this isn’t even the homework. I-”

Bakugou interrupts him as he jabs his index finger on Kirishima’s chest. “I said I want to.” Kirishima pouts and Bakugou rolls his eyes, moving quick in snatching the small device, before running back to his room.

Kirishima runs after him, staring wide-eyed as the blonde plugs it in his CPU.

“Bakugou?!”

“Shut up, I’m doing it.”

“No, wait! Give me back my USB!”

“No.” Bakugou rolls his eyes, staring blankly at the blue loading circle on his screen, one document with the file ‘TO PRINT ASAP’ on screen. “Just sit down.” He fires a warning shot as Kirishima approaches, his carpet could be replaced.

“Don’t even think about snatching it back.”

“That isn’t even my homework, Bakugou! Don& #39;t look at it” Kirishima exclaims as Bakugou clicks it open, panicking as he runs towards him with hardened arms. “I said don& #39;t look!"

Bakugou feels his heart shatter as the words: “I like you a lot.” loads on the screen, followed by other words he wasn’t opportune to read as he gets tackled, falling to the floor with a loud thump that he’s sure alerted those below.

”What the hell, Kirishima!”

“Don’t look at that one!” Kirishima pleads, still caging Bakugou in place. “Pleasepleaseplease! Just close your eyes and let me close this one and-”

“Your grammar can’t be that bad, Kirishima.” Bakugou deadpans, ignoring the way tears pricked his eyes “It& #39;s only research paper.”

“It’s not my homework, I told you!”

“Then what the hell is it?!” He yells, ready to face the truth. “Some secret letter, is that it?!”

That Kirishima probably did write a letter for someone he liked.

That he, unlike Bakugou, chose to do it upright and, hell, it looks well-written too.

That whatever he was heading out to print, he was going to give it to some lucky girl tomorrow.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Hides-things-in-white-font!” Kirishima snaps. “Do you know how awkward it was for Mic-sensei to be the one to tell me what he’s discovered on paper?!”

Bakugou stares at him with wide eyes and accumulates the strength to push Kirishima off of him, moving back till he hits the wall. He brings his hand out and warns Kirishima not to come close.

He needs a moment to think.

“What did you say?” Bakugou quietly asks.

“I know, okay?” Kirishima mumbles. “Well, I know now.”

“Since when?”

“When Mic emailed our papers back, he...had some comments about things I’ve apparently hidden and…”

“He fucking checks them?” Bakugou squints in disbelief.

“I told you he does!”

“He checks word count not...the other stuff…” Bakugou wishes the floor would swallow him up. The embarrassment of his actions finally getting to him. “Fuck. Look whatever was written there-”

“Do you mean it?” Kirishima interrupts, his face flushed red, and Bakugou finds himself praying that this was going to go favorably. “When you said those things…”

“What things?” Bakugou says. “I said lots of things.”

“When you typed down that you liked how big my eyes were because they remind you of cats?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you also mean it when you typed that you liked how I smiled because it made your knees weak?”

Fuck, he was annoyingly cheesy, but Bakugou nods. “Yeah.”

“Did you mean it when you said you liked me since first year?”

Bakugou looks at anything but him as he answers. “Fucking obviously, Kirishima.” He takes a deep breath then faces the redhead, trying to look strong. “Anything else?”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Kirishima pouts, digging his heel on the carpet.

Bakugou figures the question was bound to come up, and he wasn’t sure if Kirishima would understand his explanation, but he was never one to suddenly pedal back.

“It just felt right.” Bakugou says

although he does feel cowardly saying it. “Go ahead and laugh, Shitty Hair.”

“I thought you liked my hair?!”

“I do!, but…” Bakugou grimaces, an unexplainable feeling rising to his chest. It made it a little bit hard to breathe. “Damn it, look … just go. I really don’t want

to explain this and--” He leans over Kirishima& #39;s shoulder where he figures his words have been compiled. “Why’d you bother compiling what I said in a word file anyway?”

“Compiled?”

“I get it, what I did was weird, don& #39;t go around printing and showing it to other people.”

Bakugou feels the tears well up again. “Spare me my goddamned dignity and just reject me.”

“What? Reject you?” Kirishima steps forward cautiously, hands brought out to reassure him. “I kinda lost track of what you were saying, but those aren’t what you wrote me.” He bites his bottom lip nervously. “Wait here.”

He turns back and hunches over the desktop, pressing the Ctrl and P button, impatiently tapping his foot as the printer hums and withdraws a single sheet of paper. Without any hesitation, Kirishima hands the document over to Bakugou.

“What is this?”

“It’s well...it’s my response.” Kirishima offers him a small smile. “I thought it’d be right to give you a reply or something.”

Bakugou knows he should read the letter, he gives it one quick glance and notices the spacing, the indentation, hell, the font style was in Times New Roman. But everything looked just a little bit blurry and he hadn’t noticed that tears were streaming down his face till Kirishima

brings it up, worried as he steps in and wipes them away with a calloused thumb.

“Wait, why are you crying?”

He didn’t even know if Kirishima rejected or returned his feelings. But he was filled to the brim with the feeling of relief, knowing he’s read what he wrote,

it was such a surreal feeling.

“I just...I thought you’d hate me.”

“Hate you?!” Kirishima exclaims, wiping more of the tears away and inevitably wrapping his arms around Bakugou, pulling the paper away from him. “I thought I was clear with the letter that I like you too?!”

Bakugou sobs louder, and Kirishima hugs him tighter. “What’s going on?!”

“I’m overwhelmed.” Bakugou pushes his face against Kirishima’s shoulder.

“Oh. Okay.” Kirishima rubs his back, smiling softly as he feels Bakugou press himself even closer. “I’m here. I got you.”

It takes a while before Bakugou lifts his head, trying to calm his beating heart as he notices the distanceーor rather, the lack of itーbetween them. Kirishima grins and scratches his flushed cheeks.

“Hey.”

“You like me too, huh.”

Kirishima laughs and Bakugou feels his knees go weak. “Yeah, I like you lots, Bakugou.”

“So...what now?” It was only right for him to ask, if his way of telling his feelings were hiding them in essays, it was obvious that he knew nothing about romance. “Do we date?"

“We could have dinner this coming weekend?” Kirishima suggests, “There’s a premier movie too, and maybe we can go to the arcade?” Kirishima meets his eyes once again. “Is that cool?”

“Yeah, that’s cool.” Bakugou nods, “As long as it’s with you.”

Kirishima squeals and Bakugou snorts, freeing himself from Kirishima’s hold to land a light jab on his shoulder.

“What the hell, Kirishima?”

“Who knew you’d be so cheesy, Bakugou!” Kirishima covers his face with his hands. “Really, I feel embarrassed that Mic had to see it

before I do!”

“Whatever,” Bakugou rolls his eyes, bending over to pick the discarded letter on the floor. “You’re one to talk about being cheesy.”

He jumps on top of his drawer table, prepared as Kirishima tries to grab it from him.

“Dear, Bakugou. I liked you since first year too, you looked really hot on the bus ride to USJ.” Bakugou squints, he looks at Kirishima’s flushed face, then back at the letter.

Okay, he was most definitely the cheesy one. ”Really?”

“I only speak of the truth.” Kirishima crosses his arms, a proud smirk on his face. “The truth is you’re hot.”

“Shut up, what else did you write.” Bakugou laughs, avoiding Kirishima’s grabby hands. “I’m gonna read everything else really loudly now.”

“Don’t do that!”

“I think your hair is cool, it reminds me of the time I bleached my hair.”

“Bakugou!!!”

—end!

thank you so much for reading this! I usually never post anything beyond 1k words so !!! thank you lots (о´∀`о)

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