"Stop it," Kirishima hissed as Mina nudged him for the hundredth time that lunch. So what if his eyes kept wandering to the top of Bakugo's head as the blond slumped over the table, headphones in after muttering something about not being able to deal with this bullshit. Because it was bullshit. Maybe not whatever Bakugo was thinking about, but the way his friends kept bothering him about it.

Another shoulder bump, and Kirishima scowled. "Seriously!"

He must have said it louder than intended, because Bakugo tilted his head and looked up from the table, eyes locking on to Kirishima's. "Jeez, Shitty Hair. What's up your ass?"

Fixing a grin onto his face, Kirishima beamed up at him. "Ah, nothing!" He awkwardly scratched at his neck as Bakugo kept his skeptical look centered on him, but eventually flicked his eyes away, clicking his tongue and muttering a hasty "Whatever."

If Bakugo saw the look Sero, Mina and Kaminari exchanged, he didn't show it, instead leaning backwards and tilting his head over the edge of the booth. Mina took that opportunity to knock her knee against Kirishima's with a sly grin.

Far too abruptly, Kirishima shot to his feet, hips slamming against the table with enough force to send Kaminari's drink toppling over and spilling across the table. With apologetic eyes, Kirishima excused himself and left the table, heading back to the classroom for some peace and quiet before lunch finished. Maybe he could sort out this torrent of emotions inside him.

He did like Bakugo, Kirishima knew that much. He liked the way he rubbed at his eyes when brushing his teeth, and the way he occasionally yelled at inanimate objects for not doing the things they were supposed to, and how, despite his barbed wire-esque exterior, some part of him did care for people, even if he had a twisted way of showing it.

The way he stared through Kirishima's happy exterior, but didn't make him feel exposed in the slightest.

The classroom, sure enough, was empty when Kirishima arrived. He reached his chair and collapsed into it, dropping his head onto the desk with a loud thud and groaning. The silence enveloped him like a gladly-embraced blanket, but it didn't last for more than a minute.

"The fuck's wrong with you today?"

"Ah?" Kirishima shot upright, startled, with enough force to rock his chair onto its back two legs, his momentum carrying him backwards and crashing to the floor. Of course, Kirishima was unharmed, his Quirk activating before his body collided with the tiles, but he was a little dazed. Blinking a few times, Kirishima regained his bearings, then glanced towards the doorway and saw Bakugo, leaning against the frame. "Oh, Bakugo!"

Bakugo wasn't impressed. "I asked you a question, Shitty Hair," he muttered, eyes flicking away, red flaring up around his ears. Kirishima had to blink a few times. Was Bakugo embarrassed?

He laughed quietly, voice echoing gently in the empty room as he clambered back to his feet and fixed his chair, sitting back in it. "I'm fine, man."

"Don't lie to me."

With his thumb anxiously rubbing over his forearm, suddenly painfully aware of how bare it was, Kirishima forced a smile, averting his eyes to stare down at his unadorned skin. "I'm not lying. I'm grand, really." There was silence, for a moment, and then the sound of a chair scraping across the floor startled Kirishima a little. He glanced up to see Bakugo glaring at him, a dusting of pink on his cheeks.

He was embarrassed.

"Look, Shitty Hair. I'm not fucking dumb, and your weird-ass mood is making those other idiots weird. I don't do this shit so either tell me what's up your ass or tell me to fuck off." Bakugo's nose scrunched up a little, and honestly it was cute and far too distracting, but Kirishima shook it off and turned his attention back to his arm.

"I..." Searching for words, Kirishima switched from trailing his thumb over his arm to his pinky, if only to feel the vaguely-comforting tingle that accompanied it. His sleeve rode up a little as he rested his head on his forearm. "It's just-" He couldn't tell Bakugo the reason he was acting weird was because he had a crush! He couldn't ruin their relationship like that, Bakugo's friendship meant too much to him.

Just when Kirishima went to open his mouth to guiltily tell another lie, finger tracing the skin around the rim of his jacket, just around the edge, a line of black following, Bakugo roughly pushed his chair back. "So just fuck off, right?" he muttered angrily, turning away. His whole posture was stiff, so unnatural, like Kaminari had just sent a load of volts rushing through his body.

"W-What? No!" Kirishima protested, but Bakugo had already stormed past him and slumped into his own seat. "Bakugo, that's not-"

"Shut it, Shitty Hair," Bakugo hissed, his voice cracking a little, like he was nervous. "I told you I don't do this shit, so I won't."

What? What was going on? What had just happened?

"Bakugo, I'm-"

The harsh sound of ringing drowned out the rest of Kirishima's words, not that he really knew what he was going to say. His mind whirred, a crescendo of conflicting thoughts slamming into one another.

It took a minute for the other students to file in. A minute of silence that Kirishima had no idea how to fill.

Throughout the class, seemingly everyone in the room could sense the magnitude of rage in Bakugo's aura, which caused Mina to continuously send Kirishima curious and (what was probably meant to be) reassuring looks. The blond was the first to shove his books into his bag when the final bell went, and disappear out of the classroom, presumably headed to train since he turned left out of the door, rather than right towards the dorms.

Everyone seemed to pause, as if waiting until Bakugo was definitely gone before the chatter built up and they all began packing their things away. The normality of it just made Kirishima's heart sink even lower.

What had he done to get Bakugo so pissed off? Back in his dorm room, during their late night heart-to-hearts, he always seemed so patient, accepting. It was nothing like Bakugo, yet fit perfectly with the way Kirishima had always though he was. The energy he had during those two hours was nothing like him, but somehow Kirishima thought that he was the only one who felt that way. No one else knew Bakugo like he did.

"Dude, what was up with Bakugo?"

The sound of Kaminari's voice made Kirishima jump a little, and he realised he was outside, making his way back to Alliance Heights. He didn't even remember standing up, let alone leaving the classroom.

"You told him how you felt, didn't you?" Mina asked, sounding sombre.

A harsh wind sliced through the air, cutting up through the gaps in Kirishima's shirt and blazer and making him shiver. "I didn't," he said, almost numbly. His mind was so preoccupied.

"What?" They all looked a little shocked, clearly assuming that he had been rejected. "Then what was it?"

Kirishima merely shrugged.

He'd just reject you anyway, that's why they were thinking it.

The voice flipped the switch, and Kirishima forced a smile. "I'm sure it's just Bakugo being Bakugo, you guys. I'll ask him when he gets back!"

His friends looked unsure, but Kirishima missed their expressions as he sped up, calling that he really had to get his homework done over his shoulder as he jogged back to the dorms. Passing students from other years, most of whom stared at him, Kirishima kept up the facade. He grinned at his peers as he entered the dorm building, beamed at Midoriya as he passed him on the stairs, flashed a suspicious smile to Mineta who was lurking at a doorway that wasn't his, and only once Kirishima was in the privacy of his own dorm room, gentle light filtering through the glass, did his lips straighten out and his eyebrows furrow.

What had he done to Bakugo?

Loser.

Weak.

Worthless.

You'll never be a Pro Hero. Not a good one.

Kirishima sat on the edge of his bed.

Loner.

Failure.

Faggot.

Kirishima lay down on his bed and let the derogatory words send him into a restless sleep.

---

It was the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut that sent Kirishima snapping to full wakefulness and jerking upright, rubbing at his eyes with one hand, the other clutching at his duvet as he squinted into the darkness, trying to see who it was.

"You missed dinner," came, of course, Bakugo's voice, followed by the distinctive noise of cutlery clattering on a plate as it was placed down. There was that stiffness in his tone again, like something uncomfortable was caught in his throat. Kirishima could see Bakugo turn away from his nightstand and retreat into the bathroom and turn on the light, briefly illuminating his silhouette before the door shut.

His room now brighter from the sliver of light that shone from the cracks around the door frame, Kirishima could see that Bakugo had brought him what presumably was his share of tonights dinner, which the darkness proved he had indeed slept through. His phone screen showed it was 9pm, which meant he somehow slept for five hours?

As if it sensed the smell of food , his stomach rumbled, and Kirishima began to eat. It tasted amazing, and he had finished before Bakugo even came out of the bathroom. Once he did, carmine eyes flicked over to the empty plate, rolled, but totally avoided looking at Kirishima. Now dressed in pyjamas, the blond knelt down and yanked the futon out from under the bed.

Kirishima could only stare dumbly as Bakugo wordlessly slid under the covers, facing away from his gaze.

That was it. No grudging goodnight, no asking him why he had missed dinner, or why he had been asleep. Nothing.

It took Kirishima barely three minutes to change out of his uniform, duck his head under the cold shower stream to wash out the gel, and slide into bed, careful not to be too loud so as to not annoy Bakugo, although it seemed like it was too late for that.

Kirishima mentally said goodnight, too much of a coward to say it out loud.

Despite having basically just been asleep, Kirishima fell seamlessly into unconsciousness.

It was only a couple of hours later that he woke, once again, to Bakugo being needlessly loud. Except, this time, it was accompanied by a shout, a flash of light and smoke. Kirishima sat bolt upright and looked down to see Bakugo thrashing in his bed. His hands glistened with sweat in the moonlight, a dangerous amount when his Quirk was clearly going haywire. Concerned less for the safety of himself and more for the safety of Bakugo, Kirishima launched off the bed and knelt by his side.

"Bakugo, wake up," he tried, placing his hands on the sleeping, panicked teen, who immediately shifted away from his touch. "It's just a nightmare, it's okay, I'm right here."

His words seemed to calm Bakugo slightly, the restless movements lessening somewhat, but as soon as Kirishima tried to touch him again, Bakugo rose up in some sort of sleepwalking state and tried to punch Kirishima, who was half impressed with his sleep-defence capabilities and half focused on dodging the suprisingly powerful hit. As Bakugo readied another punch, Kirishima grabbed his arm and forced it down, pinning it against the floor. He did the same with the other just after it clipped his nose, and now Kirishima was panting, feeling a thin stream of blood drip from his nostril and collect on his lips. 

The force must have woken Bakugo up, because ruby orbs stared at Kirishima in confusion before registering the smoky air, blood on the red-heads face and panicked look in Kirishima's eyes.

"Get off me," Bakugo snarled. When Kirishima didn't move, frozen, Bakugo's eyes flashed. "Get off! Get the fuck off me!"

With a shove, Kirishima was sent backwards, landing on his ass as Bakugo clenched his jaw. The blond got up, opened the window, then stormed past Kirishima, leaving the room and slamming the door shut behind him.

It was that sound that resonated through Kirishima's head for a few minutes before it registered that Bakugo wasn't coming back.