After being called "shitty hair" for the billionth time, Kirishima shaves off his hair in an attempt to get Bakugou to ease up on his insults.
Imagine his shock to find Bakugou knocking at his door in the middle of the night with three perfectly grilled streaks and teary eyed.
Imagine his shock to find Bakugou knocking at his door in the middle of the night with three perfectly grilled streaks and teary eyed.
"I loved your hair, I'm so sorry I made you feel like I didn't," he says, sounding sincere, sounding soft in a way Kirishima has never heard before.
It's all a bit too much, and not enough at the same time.
It's all a bit too much, and not enough at the same time.
"I loved it too, but you know, you made me feel like shit all the time."
Bakugou swallows, but nods, eyes looking everywhere but at him. He lifts up the plate of meat, gesturing for Kirishima to take it. Kirishima does, sighing softly as his other hand opening his door wider.
Bakugou swallows, but nods, eyes looking everywhere but at him. He lifts up the plate of meat, gesturing for Kirishima to take it. Kirishima does, sighing softly as his other hand opening his door wider.
"Well? You coming in, even I can't eat this much bro."
Bakugou is wide eyed when he looks up at him. "Y-y-you still want to be my friend?"
"Duh stupid," Kirishima laughs.
Bakugou is wide eyed when he looks up at him. "Y-y-you still want to be my friend?"
"Duh stupid," Kirishima laughs.
Itâs quiet in Kirishimaâs room, the only sound is the knife scraping along the plate. The two of them are sitting across from each other, Kirishima perched on his bed and Bakugou on the desk chair that got dragged across the room, neither of them speaking.
There is only one set of silverware and Bakugou watches the way the skin flexes over Kirishimaâs knuckles as he cuts into the meat, unable or unwilling to look anywhere else. He jumps when Kirishima quickly jabs at one of the pieces of steak heâd cut and extends it to Bakugou.
âHere, you can have the first bite.â
The move is so charastically Kirishima, so unbelievably and ridiculously kind, that Bakugou scoffs. âNo,â Bakugou says to him, gently pushing the other man's wrist away from him. âI made it for you dummy, you eat it.â
The move is so charastically Kirishima, so unbelievably and ridiculously kind, that Bakugou scoffs. âNo,â Bakugou says to him, gently pushing the other man's wrist away from him. âI made it for you dummy, you eat it.â
âAnd you only made it for me because you feel bad. Iâm not going to eat this pity steak alone, dude.â
âPity steak? What the fuck does that mean?â
âPity steak? What the fuck does that mean?â
Kirishima sets the fork back down onto the plate with a huff. âA pity steak,â he says again, more firm like it would suddenly somehow make Bakugou understand.
When Bakugou raises a single eyebrow up at him in question, Kirishima shoves the plate off his lap and sets it down on his nightstand with a huff. âYou know?" He starts.
"Like⊠you only made me this because you feel sorry for me.
"Like⊠you only made me this because you feel sorry for me.
You feel bad that I felt bad and now youâre trying to make it up to me. Itâs sweet, but like, I donât know. Itâs not the same as if you cooked this for me just for fun. So, itâs a pity steak.â
Logically, Bakugou knows blowing up at Kirishima, especially when he is in the middle of trying to apologize is not a smart move. Still, it doesnât stop him from breathing heavily through his nose as he slams his eyes shut.
âA pity steak?â Bakugou parrots back to him, voice as even as he can make it.
âOkay fine, a âsorry steakâ then? That sound better?â
Opening his eyes, Bakugou fixes him with a glare.
âOkay fine, a âsorry steakâ then? That sound better?â
Opening his eyes, Bakugou fixes him with a glare.
Reaching over, Kirishima picks the plate back up, sets it down on his lap and grabs for the fork, extending it to Bakugou for the second time. âWell, câmon then, take a bite of your apology before it gets cold.â
âWhy are you making this so hard? Iâm trying to say fucking sorry,â Bakugou snaps.
âI shaved my hair off, Bakugou,â Kirishima quips back. âExcuse me if I am not jumping for joy at you thinking a hunk of meat will magically make us cool again.â
âI shaved my hair off, Bakugou,â Kirishima quips back. âExcuse me if I am not jumping for joy at you thinking a hunk of meat will magically make us cool again.â
âBut you lovââ
âMeat? Yeah, I know, but like a good meal isnât going to just fix this dude.â Setting back down the fork, Kirishima looks up towards the ceiling for a second before he squares his shoulders and directs his eyes back to Bakugou.
âMeat? Yeah, I know, but like a good meal isnât going to just fix this dude.â Setting back down the fork, Kirishima looks up towards the ceiling for a second before he squares his shoulders and directs his eyes back to Bakugou.
âLook, I appreciate you trying. I do. Itâs a nice gesture. But letâs be real, this was more for you than it was for me. We both know tomorrow you are going to find something else to give me shit about and then we are just going to go through this process all over again.â
âWhat the fuck, Kirishima. Iâm not going to do that, I /donât/ do that.â
Kirishima levels him with a single, utterly exhausted looking stare.
Bakugou blanches. â....do I?â
âYeah, you do. A lot. And it fucking sucks.â
Kirishima levels him with a single, utterly exhausted looking stare.
Bakugou blanches. â....do I?â
âYeah, you do. A lot. And it fucking sucks.â
âIâm not serious though, you know? Iâm just jokââ
Kirishima cuts him off. âYour âjokesâ arenât funny. Not when itâs all the time. Not when it hurts. Not when it makes me feel bad about myself. Ugh, I donât even know why Iâm trying to explain this.
Kirishima cuts him off. âYour âjokesâ arenât funny. Not when itâs all the time. Not when it hurts. Not when it makes me feel bad about myself. Ugh, I donât even know why Iâm trying to explain this.
Youâre not going to get it and you arenât going to change. JustâŠâ Kirishima trails off, then stands to his feet, setting down the plate again. âYeah, just uh, thanks for the food dude. Iâll see you tomorrow.â
Itâs a dismissal, an end to the conversation.
Itâs a dismissal, an end to the conversation.
Bakugou would rather drop dead before heâd let Kirishima kick him out of the room after that. Confrontation is in his blood, down to the core of his very being and Kirishima is a fool to think otherwise.
âFuck tomorrow, Kirishima. We are doing this now. You say I hurt you? All the time? Where? When?â
He doesnât mean for it to come off so aggressively, he really doesnât, but heâs standing up too now, crowding Kirishima, as if trying to force the answers out of his mouth with his proximity alone.
Crossing his arms, Kirishima scoffs. âYou want a fucking list? How much time do we have? If I start now maybe I can finish it before we graduate.â
Without his permission, Bakugou takes a step back, recoiling as if he had been slapped. When he meets Kirishimaâs hard gaze, he wishes he had been instead.
Heâd hurt Kirishima. Enough times that he had a /list./
Heâd hurt Kirishima. Enough times that he had a /list./
âYou look shocked,â Kirishima tells him, eyes rolling, sarcasm edging his voice like a knife.
Silent, Bakugou lowers his eyes to the floor, his mind picking through his most recent interactions with Kirishima.
Silent, Bakugou lowers his eyes to the floor, his mind picking through his most recent interactions with Kirishima.
It doesnât take long for him to realize that he canât think of a /single/ time he was just nice to him to be nice.
Even in their study sessions he was an asshole. Calling Kirishima names, mocking his intelligence, making fun of the way he looks. When he piles them all together, it doesnât seem very funny to him either.
Truth was, heâd always been kind of terrible. Even as a kid, that much, he knew. A bully, his school had called him, plain unloveable according to his mother. Bakugou had a list of his own only his was filled with people who thought the worst of him.
Even when he did well, made the Dean's list or some other type of academic achievement, most people's opinions of him never changed. Good on paper, bad in person.
And yet, until this moment, Kirishima never seemed to be a person who would make it on that list.
Well, he was wrong and it was all his fault.
Well, he was wrong and it was all his fault.
âIâŠâ Bakugou doesnât really know where to start. A simple sorry wonât cut it, and the cooling steaks on the nightstand seem like such a stupid apology in comparison to his major fuck up at being a friend. Is he even a friend? Can he call himself that?
A hand claps against his shoulder, pulling him out of his mind. âHey,â Kirishima says softly. âDonât worry about it alright. Iâm being too mean anââ
âNo!â Bakugou shouts out. âYouâre being too nice! Youâre always so fucking nice to me! Why? I treat you like shit!â When he says it out loud, the truth of it is enough to knock him on his ass.
For a second, he almost moves to sit back down on the chair before he does, only changing his mind when Kirishima grips his shoulder a little tighter. Reassuring him when he doesnât deserve it, typical Kirishima.
âI know it probably means shit to you, Iâm sure, but Kirishima...no, /Eijiro/, Iâm sorry. Fucking, really. I-I...I know I fucked up, have /been/ fucking up but shit, donâtâŠâ
âHey,â Kirishima says, sounding alarmed. âBakugou, hey hey hey, stop that, dude donât cry.â
âIâm not crying!â Bakugou sniffs, hastily wiping his hands on his cheeks. âShut the fuck up, liar.â
âIâm not crying!â Bakugou sniffs, hastily wiping his hands on his cheeks. âShut the fuck up, liar.â
âAh, there he is,â Kirishima chuckles, taking his hand off of Bakugouâs shoulder to swipe a tear off of his cheek with his thumb. âMy little terror.â
âWhy the fuck are you even friends with me?â Bakugou asks, his voice smaller than he intends.
âWhy the fuck are you even friends with me?â Bakugou asks, his voice smaller than he intends.
âWhy do you put up with me? Iâm an asshole.â
âYeah,â Kirishima says easily, âyou really are.â
Bakugou sniffles again.
âBut, not all the time. Sometimes you are kind of the best.â
âIâm always the best,â Bakugou grumbles.
âAh, and so humble too.â
âYeah,â Kirishima says easily, âyou really are.â
Bakugou sniffles again.
âBut, not all the time. Sometimes you are kind of the best.â
âIâm always the best,â Bakugou grumbles.
âAh, and so humble too.â
They both share a small chuckle at that, the tension easing out of the room just a bit. Just enough that Bakugou can breathe a little easier. âI really am sorry,â Bakugou tells him, nudging Kirishimaâs foot with his own. âYou know, for everything.â
âKinda vague, but thank you.â
âDonât be a dick, I mean it alright? Iâm gonnaâŠ. Fuck, I donât know, make it up to you and shit.â
Sitting back down on his bed, Kirishima looks up at Bakugou, his eyes wary.
âDonât be a dick, I mean it alright? Iâm gonnaâŠ. Fuck, I donât know, make it up to you and shit.â
Sitting back down on his bed, Kirishima looks up at Bakugou, his eyes wary.
âWeâve kind of been here before dude. You say something a too mean then you give a half assed sorry like, /âwow, didnât know you were gonna be such a bitch about it, my badâ/ and we carry on like always.I want to, but itâs hard to actually believe this shit is going to stop.
Like, I love you bro, probably too much,â he pauses for a second, turning a bit red before pushing forward, âI really fucking do, but I canât keep on having you treat me like trash as a joke. Like I know I suck, but câmon, let me live. I donât deserve it.â
Gently, Bakugou eases himself next to Kirishima on the bed. âYou donât suck, I suck.â
Kirishima snorts.
âIâm serious,â Bakugou says, making an impulse decision to grab one of Kirishimaâs hands. Itâs big and soft in his, he squeezes it.
Kirishima snorts.
âIâm serious,â Bakugou says, making an impulse decision to grab one of Kirishimaâs hands. Itâs big and soft in his, he squeezes it.
âYouâre like the least sucky person I know. Iâm just shit at showing it. Like, look, I never really was good at making friends.â
âOh?â Kirishima cuts in. âYou donât say? You? No way. I donât believe it.â
âDonât be a shithead, Iâm trying to do that feelings crap youâre into.â
âOh?â Kirishima cuts in. âYou donât say? You? No way. I donât believe it.â
âDonât be a shithead, Iâm trying to do that feelings crap youâre into.â
Kirishima grins, and gives his hand a small squeeze back, a silent gesture for him to continue.
âI guess I am just bad at this shit? I donât /mean/ the shit I say, and I really wouldnât have been saying it to you if I didnât know you took it seriously. I thought you knew I was joking, I swear. Wish you would have told me sooner, you know, before you went all Britney on me.â
He was trying to lighten up the mood, but when Kirishima takes his hand back, and tucks it under his arm, itâs clear that he didnât think Bakugou was being funny.
âShit,â Bakugou curses. âI fucked up huh? Iâm sorry Eijiro, please let me fix it. Tell me what I did wrong.â
âShit,â Bakugou curses. âI fucked up huh? Iâm sorry Eijiro, please let me fix it. Tell me what I did wrong.â
âYou didnât really do anything wrong? Just. Uh, I donât really have the greatest self esteem you know? Iâm sensitive and you reminded me Iâm freaking bald now. Also, for the record, Britney one hundred percent was justified in her actions, so leave her alone or Iâll fight you.â
Kirishima is quiet for a second, before very slowly he begins to undo the strings on his hood.
The entire time Bakugou has been here, Kirishima had had the strings to his red sweater pulled up tight around his face.
The entire time Bakugou has been here, Kirishima had had the strings to his red sweater pulled up tight around his face.
Bakugou was trying and failing miserably to not think he kind of looked adorable like that.
âYou know,â Kirishima says softly as the knot falls and the strings fall to rest on his chest, âI havenât really seen it until right after I did it. How bad is it?â
âYou know,â Kirishima says softly as the knot falls and the strings fall to rest on his chest, âI havenât really seen it until right after I did it. How bad is it?â
Gently, Kirishima pushes back his hood and looks at Bakugou expectantly.
Heâs buzzed, so close to his scalp he might as well be bald, but itâs not bad. Definitely not bad. His old hair, the mane Bakugou secretly came up with stupid reasons to touch, had been what Bakugou originally noticed about him.
Obnoxious in its aggressive flamboyancy, you couldnât not miss Kirishima with that hair. But this, the lack thereof, was somehow even more demanding. Without the distraction of red, Bakugouâs eyes were forced to center on his face. And goddamn, what a fucking face.
Bakugou finds himself blushing before he can answer Kirishimaâs question.
âThat bad? Fuck.â
âYou look good,â Bakugou chokes out. âReally fucking good.â
Kirishima groans. âHa, I fucking bet.â He moves to put the hood back on, but Bakugou reaches out a hand to stop him.
âThat bad? Fuck.â
âYou look good,â Bakugou chokes out. âReally fucking good.â
Kirishima groans. âHa, I fucking bet.â He moves to put the hood back on, but Bakugou reaches out a hand to stop him.
âReally,â Bakugou admits, voice shaking slightly. âI liked your old hair a lot, but this way, I can see /you/ better. Itâs pretty.â
Kirishima blinks. âYou think my bald head is...pretty?â
âUgh, no /youâre/ pretty you dumb asshole, all of you, god.â
Kirishima blinks. âYou think my bald head is...pretty?â
âUgh, no /youâre/ pretty you dumb asshole, all of you, god.â
Kirishima stops blinking all together, his face turning scarlett.
It suddenly dawns on him what he said, and Bakugou quickly jumps to his feet.
It suddenly dawns on him what he said, and Bakugou quickly jumps to his feet.
âFuck. Okay, itâs ha, super later. Alright so Iâm going to go, you enjoy your dinner and Iâm going to fuck off forever. Yep. Okay, good talk. See you later, bro. Buddy, pal. Ha, yep. Night!â
As Bakugou makes a beeline for the door, Kirishima grabs a hold of the back of his shirt and yanks him back.
âKatsuki Bakugou youâve got to be fucking kidding me.â
âKatsuki Bakugou youâve got to be fucking kidding me.â
Bakugou tries to scramble out of his hold, his arms reaching pitifully for the door that is getting farther and farther away with each one of Kirishimaâs forceful tugs.
âYou are telling me, for real, that you LIKE ME?â
âYou are telling me, for real, that you LIKE ME?â
Bakugou says nothing, fuck his shirt, he can buy a new one. Who cares if this one rips?
âThis entire time youâve been a dick to me, itâs because you have a CRUSH ON ME? WHAT ARE YOU? NINE?â
âThis entire time youâve been a dick to me, itâs because you have a CRUSH ON ME? WHAT ARE YOU? NINE?â
God in Heaven or Devil in Hell Bakugou doesnât care who he just prays for either of one of them to take him away, anything to escape his current life ending predicament.
With the almost cruel force, Kirishima kicks Bakugouâs feet out from under him and bodily throws him onto his bed. When Bakugou looks up, Kirishima is glaring at him, chest heaving as he points a finger at him.
âEven cavemen are capable of showing more emotional range than you. A simple â/Oh me like/â would have sufficed, you absolute moron. Holy shit, Katsuki, you owe me so fucking big for /everything./â
âIâm sorry!â Bakugou squeaks out. âIâll try to stop liking you! I didnât mean to, I know weâre just friends okay fuck! Can you let me go now?â
âLet you go? Katsuki, no no no. Thatâs not happening. After all the goddamn emotional turmoil of me pining for your rude ass like an idiot only to just now find out you like me back? Please.
I am calculating that youâve got to oh, say, just spend the rest of your stupid life to make this up to me.â
Breathing seems difficult, all the air seemingly has left his entire body as he looks up at Kirishima wide eyed and slack jawed.
Breathing seems difficult, all the air seemingly has left his entire body as he looks up at Kirishima wide eyed and slack jawed.
Kirishima, who had just admitted to what did he say? /Pining/ for him? Bakugou was braindead.
Finally, Bakugouâs brain works just enough that he remembers how to breathe and gasps in a huge lungful of air.
âExcuse me, WHAT?â
Finally, Bakugouâs brain works just enough that he remembers how to breathe and gasps in a huge lungful of air.
âExcuse me, WHAT?â
âNo, excuse YOU. Iâve CRIED about how you donât like me, and then you whip this shit out. Fuck you, Bakugou. Honestly, I donât have the energy tonight, I swear. Get out of my room, we will go over your actions as well as your consequences tomorrow when I can think properly.â
Completely dazed, Bakugou gets to his feet only to blink owlishly at Kirishima, trying to process what in the fuck was going on.
Kirishima was still glaring at him, but there was a soft smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. âGo on, get. Iâll see you tomorrow.â
Kirishima was still glaring at him, but there was a soft smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. âGo on, get. Iâll see you tomorrow.â
Gently, he pushes Bakugou towards his door, even opening it for him as he shoves him over the threshold.
Just before he closes it in Bakugouâs face, Kirishima shakes his head as he rolls his eyes then ever so slowly he leans in and presses his lips to Bakugouâs stunned cheek in a simple kiss.
âThanks for the sorry steaks again, sleep well youâre going to need it. Tomorrow, you have hell to pay.â
Air rushes out of Bakugouâs lungs in a soft of strangled laugh, as Kirishima, the man who despite everything, likes him back, closes the door.
Air rushes out of Bakugouâs lungs in a soft of strangled laugh, as Kirishima, the man who despite everything, likes him back, closes the door.
In the morning, Kirishima is more than true to his word and presents Bakugou with a list of his crimes and punishments, but he also kisses him stupid before Bakugou has a chance to read any of it.
And a few hours later, when Bakugou is just as bald as his boyfriend and his lips kiss swollen and red, he canât help but hope that Kirishima was serious about needing him to make up for everything for his entire life.
If anything, forever didnât seem long enough to make up for all that he put him through, but with a future with Kirishima to look forward to, he couldnât wait to start trying and for Kirishima, he'd more than make the time.


