kirishima has a crush on the dolphin swimming instructor at his summer job in the aquarium and they try to fall in love â but itâs a summer job and itâs a summer crush and thereâs no way that anything can last because these kinds of things burn hard and fast
[dedicated to @what_a_l0ser]
kirishima is the embodiment of summer.
when bakugou first sees kirishima, with his apple coloured hair and obnoxious sharp toothed grin, thatâs what he immediately thinks. heâs the embodiment of summer. heâs got warm, toasted skin and the brightest yellow shirt that bakugou has ever seen.
when he raises his brow, a tiny scar folds and dips in his forehead. bakugou wants to touch it. âoh, youâre working at the aquarium too?â
bakugou narrows his eyes. the way he talks itâs so. itâs so stupidly simple, like his words are clear as day, without ulterior motive.
bakugou narrows his eyes. the way he talks itâs so. itâs so stupidly simple, like his words are clear as day, without ulterior motive.
âthatâs so cool, man,â he says when bakugou tells him he teaches dolphins to swim. heâs fucking smiling through it all, his red eyes too earnest.
and this guy looks like everything summer: like ice cream trucks and melting popsicles and orange juice pitchers and lemon wedges and surfing shorts and the feeling of clear blue skies with the sun glaring down at you so you furrow your brows.
itâs like skipping stones across lakes and sneakers against concrete and baseball caps.
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work inevitably falls into routine.
kirishimaâs in charge of feeding the fish at the underground section of the aquarium. itâs a summer job, anyway, and it doesnât take long, though, so he ends up doing other small tasks around the placeâ
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work inevitably falls into routine.
kirishimaâs in charge of feeding the fish at the underground section of the aquarium. itâs a summer job, anyway, and it doesnât take long, though, so he ends up doing other small tasks around the placeâ
uraraka is one of the guides at the aquarium but she works at least two other jobs so she turns up late sometimes. kirishima memorises the handout and leads around a crowd through the section of sharks, covering for her.
then uraraka arrives, huffing and puffing, with the wrong work id around her neck and her shoes untied, flashes kirishima a grateful smile and takes over.
sero, routinely, pretends to not notice.
and towards the end of the day, kirishima waits for bakugou by the training pools.
the first time he watched bakugou with the dolphins, kirishima had watched transfixed.
the first time he watched bakugou with the dolphins, kirishima had watched transfixed.
thereâs something, something beautiful about bakugou katsuki in water: heâs a clear figure of starched out block colours, tidied out muscles. the water is a layer of silk, and it glows golden in the sunlight.
bakugou walks deliberately, slowly, back paddling as he gently leads the baby dolphin towards him, shallow in the water.
heâs the most elegant thing kirishima has ever seen, as he pushes into the water and his blond hair spreads around him.
he works, one with the dolphins, and kirishima distantly thinks of ancient folkloreâstories of ethereal creatures chanting hymns that heroes fall for, and hold them in the depths of the ocean till their lungs fill up with saltâ
and as he watches bakugou resurface, push the hair out his eyes, kirishima finds his his knees week.
thereâs something magical about how the water cascades down bakugouâs skin, lingering in the dimples of his back, the dips of his biceps. the sun plays a game of lights, and kirishima remembers fifth grade projectsâ
making kaleidoscopes with bits of glass and beads inside, the massive, shifting pattern of a thousand colours, ever shiftingâand kirishima remembers being stupidly mesmerised as he shifted the base around.
and as bakugou turns to face kirishima, his pomegranate eyes stark, light caught in his eyelashesâkirishima canât find a handle to all this. thereâs nothing that kirishima can hold on to, unlike with his kaleidoscope.
and the thing about bakugou katsuki is that heâs not as imperfect as kirishimaâs physics project with duct-taped ends.
bakugouâs prim and perfect like clear cut glass and sharpened edges and heâsâheâs well balanced.
around bakugou, kirishima finds it hard to focus. he feels like his clothes suddenly donât fit him right, that his fingernails are unevenly cut and his cuticles are frayed.
around bakugou, kirishima finds it hard to focus. he feels like his clothes suddenly donât fit him right, that his fingernails are unevenly cut and his cuticles are frayed.
but thereâs something about this: about bakugou working with these dolphins thatâs beautiful.
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bakugouâs sitting, back against a wall and his head is throbbing.
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bakugouâs sitting, back against a wall and his head is throbbing.
he doesnât open his eyes, thereâs the goddamn sun bleeding into his eyelids, casting his view in red. it feels hot against his face, and thereâs sweat on his forehead, sweet and sticky in his tee shirt. he clenches his fists, nails digging tiny crescents into his palms.
his throat is dry, there is tannin biting at the back of his throat, and his tongue is uncomfortable against the roof of his mouth. his body feels heavy, hunched shoulders baring atlasâ sky. his neck hurts, his back is stiff.
his sneakers squeak against the concrete as he moves his legs to straighten them out in front of himself.
the sunshine is burning on his skin.
the sunshine is burning on his skin.
kirishima nudges bakugou.
of course itâs kirishima, bakugou knows before he even opens his eyesâonly kirishima likes to push into bakugou, no regard for common personal space. bakugou isnât sure where heâs stopped complaining.
of course itâs kirishima, bakugou knows before he even opens his eyesâonly kirishima likes to push into bakugou, no regard for common personal space. bakugou isnât sure where heâs stopped complaining.
bakugou cracks open an eye. kirishimaâs leaning over him, grinning wide, his teeth razor sharp.
âi got you something,â he announces, and waits for bakugou to become excited: he raises his brows and continues to look at bakugou, expectant and clearly waiting.
âi got you something,â he announces, and waits for bakugou to become excited: he raises his brows and continues to look at bakugou, expectant and clearly waiting.
/dumbass./ heâs got his hands behind his back as if heâs hiding something, his loud hawaii shirtâs sleeves rolled up, sunlight cast over his forearms.
bakugou sighs. âwhat.â
âpopsicles!â
bakugou watches as a pretty smile spreads across kirishimaâs face.
âpopsicles!â
bakugou watches as a pretty smile spreads across kirishimaâs face.
he holds out a pair of cheap popsicles in their tastelessly decorated wrappersâwith the fifty yen stickers and little hello kitty-esque tiny chibi drawings printed out along the edgesâand bakugou almost sighs again.
instead he shakes his head, pushes off the asphalt, dusts his palms and takes one of the popsicle sticks.
kirishima falls into step beside bakugouâagain, too close: their shoulders brushâand they eat in relative silence, save for kirishimaâs whine when the last bit of his ice lolly falls to the concrete. he turns back to bakugou, with his best puppy-dog eyes.
âheh, loser,â is all bakugou says.
kirishima whines, âplease?â
he ignores.
â/pleeeaase/?â
kirishima whines, âplease?â
he ignores.
â/pleeeaase/?â
bakugou grunts. looks at kirishima. heâs fucking pouting, lips pushed out, eyes blown wide and all of that bullshit. bakugou grunts again, then digs out a coin. âfuckinâ get your own, dumbass. how old are you, jesus.â
kirishima smiles brightly, face immediately lighting up. âthanks, bakugou!â
what the fuck.
heâs the embodiment of summer.
what the fuck.
heâs the embodiment of summer.
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the thing about being around bakugou is the feeling of distance.
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the thing about being around bakugou is the feeling of distance.
bakugou is sitting right beside kirishima as they sort through the pins and biological name labels for different fishâthe place may be a huge aquarium, but a lot of times the summer employees are handed with additional duties.
and kirishima feels bakugouâs knee pressing into his own as they sit criss-cross-applesauce on the floor, but even then, thereâs a distance.
because bakugouâs like a sight a thousand miles away, like a sunset dissolving into water: thereâs the clouds, rusted orange and the sunlight breaking over.
thereâs a hundred shades of pinks and yellows and blues and kirishima feels like reaching towards the sun, trying to feel the stew of the sky run through his fingers.
kirishima wants to hold bakugouâs hand, lace their fingers through, wants to ruffle his blond hair and wants to kiss bakugouâs cheekbones, his nose, the space between his eyebrows, the dimples of his shoulders and kirishima wants to run his palms over bakugouâs biceps except.
except bakugouâs a thousand miles away.
because, well. itâs a summer job.
because, well. itâs a summer job.
itâs a summer job and itâs a summer crush and thereâs no way that anything can last because these kinds of things burn hard and fast and they leave nothing but the dull ache of longing.
so kirishima tries to find comfort in this: sitting beside bakugou as they work through the laminated name tags with kingdoms and genus and species, with their elbows bumping, the warmth of their knees and their thumbs brushing as kirishima takes labels out of bakugouâs hands.
somewhere in the middle, kirishima says that he wishes he could swim with bakugou sometime.
bakugou grins, then, a boyish unhinged grin: and it spreads across his face as he locks eyes with kirishimaâholy shitâand he says, âdo you want to use these pools?â
bakugou grins, then, a boyish unhinged grin: and it spreads across his face as he locks eyes with kirishimaâholy shitâand he says, âdo you want to use these pools?â
kirishima blinks, first because /holy shit holy shit holy shit/âthat shouldnât be as hot as it feels and kirishimaâs stomach stretches out like taffy. âwhat pools?â then pauses, lowers his voice, âyou mean in here? into these pools? like breaking in?â
bakugou puts down a label. âwhere the fuck else, dumbass? of course these pools.â
âbut why canât we just. use, like, a normal pool. outside.â
âwhereâs the fun in that,â bakugou says, and thereâs challenge in his red, red eyes, burning. he smells warm.
âbut why canât we just. use, like, a normal pool. outside.â
âwhereâs the fun in that,â bakugou says, and thereâs challenge in his red, red eyes, burning. he smells warm.
kirishima licks his lips, steadies his hammering heart. âbutââ he stops here. thinks for a second, and says, âyouâre going to do it even if i say no, arenât you.â
bakugou shrugs, picks up the label again.
bakugou shrugs, picks up the label again.
kirishima turns back to the laminator too. âthen iâll come,â he decides, finally. âyou might do something stupid.â
bakugou glares at him. âright,â he says, âme. something stupid.â
kirishima just smiles. âyouâre kind of impulsive, my man.â and itâs true.
kirishima just smiles. âyouâre kind of impulsive, my man.â and itâs true.
kirishima has watched bakugou get loud and start yelling at some of the customers for trying to sneak food to the dolphins. heck, kirishima has recorded a whole exchange and uploaded it on r-slash-public-freakout and gotten the most upvotes in his entire reddit career.
bakugou scowls, twists his lips away. âshut up, get your fuckinâ work done.â
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bakugou shakes his head as he toes in first testing out the temperature, before stepping in slowly, feeling the cold water surround him.
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bakugou shakes his head as he toes in first testing out the temperature, before stepping in slowly, feeling the cold water surround him.
when he eases in, he plants his feet on the tiled floors, listens to the burbling water, the croaking of cicadas. the sounds of the night, the calm of the sky: an inky black slate, the speckled stars, the broken out pepper-clouds.
thereâs some lights underwater, and it diffuses out in the chlorine: the pool looks a warm shade of blue-yellow, and thereâs a pair of lamps keening over them. heâs the kind to take it slow.
kirishima, however, crashes in. he tucks his knees under his arms and he jumps in, the water breaking around him. bubbles fill the pool and bakugou watches as kirishima sinks to the bottom, hard as a rock. bakugou closes his eyes, counts ten seconds.
kirishima resurfaces. heâs pretty, endearingly pretty, beaming as he pushes his hair out of his eyes, stretching his forearms and heaving a deep breath as if all his tensed up muscle chords were relaxing, bleeding out tension.
bakugou looks at kirishimaâs chest, at the tanned, warm surfaces of skin glistening in the moonlight. at the shape of his shoulder blades.
kirishima looks right back.
kirishima looks right back.
and. itâs slow, but kirishimaâs stepping towards bakugou. water laps against skin. bakugou can feel the water getting warmer. he can feel the spaces in between. it starts to becomeâto become too muchâ
bakugou opens his mouth, wants to say something, becauseâbecause fuck, thereâs something wrong, thereâs a feeling, akin to standing in a choked metro bogie, packed up person to person and not enough room to breathe, much less move around and he feels sick to the bone.
bakugou& #39;s stomach feels like itâs about to push up and into his lungs and his eyes start to grow hot and thereâs a piercing pain behind one of his eyebrows and his neck feels warm, even in the cool of the water, and he fucking breathe and my throat feels sore and.
and he wants to say something, as kirishima steps closer, charming mirth dancing in his eyesâ
he wants to say stop, he canât do this, it was a mistake to invite him over, he shouldnât lead kirishima on like this when he canât fucking. he canât fucking manage his own issues, itâd be too much to burden kirishima withâwith all the shit he has going on, he canât do thisâ
and then kirishimaâs face splits into a broad grin and he pulls bakugou under.
/fuck!/
/fuck!/
bakugou should have seen this coming. kirishimaâs /such/ an idiot.
bakugou grabs onto kirishimaâs leg and then itâs a tussle: thereâs blood roaring in his ears and theyâre pushing and flailing and itâs a push and a pull and just limbs and the gargling of bubbles as they try not to laugh underwater.
and finally, finally kirishima goes slack, pulls up for a breath.
bakugou flings a handful of water into his face. âyouâre a fucking idiot,â he informs him.
kirishima is laughing, though, and he just pushes the water out of his eyes, straightens up, starts staggering out his breaths.
kirishima is laughing, though, and he just pushes the water out of his eyes, straightens up, starts staggering out his breaths.
of course kirishima would do this. heâs so simple, so easy, so much like. so much like childhood days spent aimlessly.
heâs chuckling loudly, dimples pushed in charmingly to his cheeks, pushing his sopping wet bright red locks out of his face and grinning andâheâs the embodiment of summer.
kirishima wipes a tear out of his eyes. âyeah, well, you let your guard down. bakugou, heh, dudeââheâs still laughing, gasping through breaths and pointing at bakuoguâs chestââyou should have seen your face, you really just wentââ
bakugou splashes more water, warm in the face. â/idiot,/â he echoes, with feeling.
but kirishimaâs still giggling, his skin flush and his hair down and water cascading and sharp-toothed and all that glory and, well, bakugou just kicks up more water when kirishima starts to snort and refuses to meet his eyes. /dumbfuck./
âletâs do this again, sometime, yo?â kirishima says, once he finally mellows out his laughter.
âfuck you, youâre not coming next time.â
âhey, come on, donât be such a stick in the mud,â he says, grinning.
because itâs so /easy,/ when it comes to kirishima.
/fuck./
âfuck you, youâre not coming next time.â
âhey, come on, donât be such a stick in the mud,â he says, grinning.
because itâs so /easy,/ when it comes to kirishima.
/fuck./
bakugou rolls his eyes, pushes up against one of the tiled walls, looks up at the moon. kirishima follows.
âi get why you like to come here,â he says. thereâs a hollow echo that hangs off kirishimaâs whispers, off the edge of each syllable. âbut why⊠why break in?â
âi get why you like to come here,â he says. thereâs a hollow echo that hangs off kirishimaâs whispers, off the edge of each syllable. âbut why⊠why break in?â
bakugou sucks in a breath. âyou were the one who said âbreak in.â i have the fucking keys. and that old fucker aizawa doesnât mind if i come in or out.â
kirishima looks at him as if realising something. âohhh! uraraka said something about this! youâre a goody two shoes!â
kirishima looks at him as if realising something. âohhh! uraraka said something about this! youâre a goody two shoes!â
âthe fuck?â
âyeah!â kirishima pushes a fist into his palm as if to say thatâs what! âshe said that you used to get straight as and stuff through-out highschool. and kaminari saidâwait. woah, dude, isnât it like, way past your bedtimeââ
âshut the fuck upââ
âyeah!â kirishima pushes a fist into his palm as if to say thatâs what! âshe said that you used to get straight as and stuff through-out highschool. and kaminari saidâwait. woah, dude, isnât it like, way past your bedtimeââ
âshut the fuck upââ
âor did you take a nap in the day?â
bakugouâs face burns. he did. âshut the fuck up.â
âoh, man, youâre so cuteââ
bakugou pulls him under.
bakugouâs face burns. he did. âshut the fuck up.â
âoh, man, youâre so cuteââ
bakugou pulls him under.
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kirishima takes him to a summer festival.
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kirishima takes him to a summer festival.
itâs noisy and bakugou complains the whole time but it doesnât matter because kirishima catches him smiling sometimes, in the middle.
his eyebrows ease up in the middle and he allows a soft chuckle, something warm seeping into his eyes as kirishima wins him the biggest teddy bear at the darts stall with the cheap boards and frayed posters.
the lights burn bright and the night is alive. kirishima and bakugou compete over catching fish in little paper nets and bakugou calls him an idiot and kirishima just. just feels, through it all.
thereâs the thundering of drums and people singing and they eventually find a place thatâs relatively quiet at the fringes to watch the fireworks, a bag of potato chips between them.
and in the middle somewhere, thereâs the noises that thunder on more muffled: like bass hitting your chest, and kirishima knows that bakugou is right here.
for once, he doesnât feel a thousand miles away.
for once, he doesnât feel a thousand miles away.
kirishima digs his elbows into bakugouâs sides as he points out the pretty firecrackers as they burst out in glorious colours.
and itâs here that kirishima looks at bakugou. the sounds suddenly grow slow, thereâs the deafening pounds of kirishimaâs racing heart and he leans into bakugouâs space.
and it /should/ be perfect.
it should, except itâs. itâs not. somewhere the pitch is off, the beat misses and the tempo is too fast and bakugou tenses up. pulls away a tiny inch.
kirishima freezes up, too.
it should, except itâs. itâs not. somewhere the pitch is off, the beat misses and the tempo is too fast and bakugou tenses up. pulls away a tiny inch.
kirishima freezes up, too.
âkirishima,â bakugou says, and thereâs an edge to his voice. he bites it out, growls almost.
kirishimaâs heart breaks. it aches. it really does, as he pulls back.
âfuck. i canât. /fuck,/ this is all wrongâplease, i canât do this now, iâmââ
kirishimaâs heart breaks. it aches. it really does, as he pulls back.
âfuck. i canât. /fuck,/ this is all wrongâplease, i canât do this now, iâmââ
âi get it,â kirishima says, softly. it hurts. he smiles at bakugou. âhey, i get it.â
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bakugou& #39;s body burns all over. but he doesnât stop talking, even as his voice hits the back of his throat wrong. he tells him everything. there comes a point where he canât tell if heâs talking or not, he doubts kirishima can hear him over the incessant loud ringing.
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bakugou& #39;s body burns all over. but he doesnât stop talking, even as his voice hits the back of his throat wrong. he tells him everything. there comes a point where he canât tell if heâs talking or not, he doubts kirishima can hear him over the incessant loud ringing.
noises surround them. the thrum of traffic, the rush of the city. thereâs moths twirling around the streetlamps. all the lights around dim and blur into nondescript neon circles, the summer festival has long since wrapped up.
he holds on to the empty chips packet wrapper, though, and it crinkles as he turns it over while speaking, pretends to read the ingredients on the backâanything to not look kirishima in the eyes.
bakugou pushes his hand through his hair, feels the winds. heâs not crying, he swears heâs fucking not.
kirishima places his hand on his knee, though, and itâs warm. âi donât think youâre a coward,â he says. âi think youâre just trying to adjust.â
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kirishima places his hand on his knee, though, and itâs warm. âi donât think youâre a coward,â he says. âi think youâre just trying to adjust.â
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[timeskip]
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for kirishima, now, his summer job was a long time ago.
the world has moved on, since then: flowers bloom and wane and the sakura blossoms slip off the trees and the maple leaves start to rust then thereâs snow.
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for kirishima, now, his summer job was a long time ago.
the world has moved on, since then: flowers bloom and wane and the sakura blossoms slip off the trees and the maple leaves start to rust then thereâs snow.
and when he finally meets bakugou againâheâd like to say itâs chance, but itâs not, of course itâs not.
sero pushes kirishima and uraraka giggles from behind bakugou and then they both make matching lenny faces as they wave them goodbye and then itâs just the two of them. bakugouâs got a yellow scarf around him and kirishima can barely see his nose.
bakugou just glares at kirishima though, waiting, challenging him to speak first.
itâs never been a challenge for kirishima though. he smiles, warm. âyou donât look like one for winter, hey?â
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itâs never been a challenge for kirishima though. he smiles, warm. âyou donât look like one for winter, hey?â
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they finally settle down on one of the park benches and though the afternoon is cold, itâs still sunny. the winds are icy and they sting.
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they finally settle down on one of the park benches and though the afternoon is cold, itâs still sunny. the winds are icy and they sting.
kirishima says, âyou know. sometimes i want to eat the clouds. maybe they taste like candy floss.â
and bakugou swears to fuck, thatâs when he fell in love with him.
and bakugou swears to fuck, thatâs when he fell in love with him.
because kirishima makes it so easy to love andâand bakugou realises heâs allowed to. just like that. or maybe he always was in love, and itâs only now that heâs okay with it.
whatever the case, bakugou feels the winds and then reaches for kirishimaâs hand. this time, the pacing is perfect.
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[timeskip]
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kirishima kisses bakugou over the coffee heâs pouring. whispers his good morning.
âyouâre like,â bakugou pauses here. really mulls over his next words, furrows his brows, turns the mugâs handle towards himself. meets kirishima in the eyes. âthe embodiment of sunshine.â
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kirishima kisses bakugou over the coffee heâs pouring. whispers his good morning.
âyouâre like,â bakugou pauses here. really mulls over his next words, furrows his brows, turns the mugâs handle towards himself. meets kirishima in the eyes. âthe embodiment of sunshine.â
[end.]
https://open.spotify.com/track/0ri0Han4IRJhzvERHOZTMr?si=49jzpoeRSsizDBeCAw6ogw">https://open.spotify.com/track/0ri...
its just uh. you know. growing and changing as a person till you can love. and uh like. becoming the person that can be loved by that one person. and just. maturing. learning, unlearning. meeting at the wrong time but making it work (wipes tears) yo i just think its neat
its uhhhh waiting for each other, longing, pining - thats where its at