———

"Bakubro!"

"Fuck you want, shitty-hair?"

The spiky, red haired male glowered at him, undisturbed by the rough insult in the sentence as he slammed the door shut. With bunch of contracts in hand, he tossed the stack of papers down on Bakugou's vanity, disturbing the mascara and black eyeliner; with the tube rolling and flattering on the wooden floor with a sharp thunk.

"Fuck!" The blond looked at him, the two red slits holding the usual heat and temperature in them; burning flames raging through his eyes.
He snarled the moment the make-up dropped, before crossing his arms and glaring at Kirishima; eyes trailing down to the various contracts on his table. He cocked an eyebrow at the huge amount of paperwork.
Like hell he was gonna sign this shit.

He didn't have time; he had a photo shoot in thirty minutes, his perfected suit (that Ashido- was that his styler's name? She took forty minutes just to get the tie right.) and hair will go to waste even if he only moved a slight inch. He didn't want his perfectionist assistant fussing all over him as if he was a child who tripped and dropped his ice cream. It was annoying.

The light bulbs on his vanity glowed a soft yellow light, deepening the ash blond color of his spiky hair and emphasizing his frighteningly red eyes; a feat he acquired from his mother. That old, rich hag.

Bakugou eyes his manager with prying eyes, a cue for him to speak.

Kirishima grinned widely before excitedly chatting off into space.

"So, do you know the Midoriya's? Of course you know them. Your boss- well, your mom signed a contract for you two to work together. Apparently she liked the boy and his mother after attending this grand modeling show with Midoriya Inko- you know, famous rich woman who donates a butt-load of money to charities and such?- yeah that's-"

"Slow the fuck down, shitty hair," he grunted, an impatient feeling sending a twitch to them corner of his mouth. He was ticked off from his constant babbling. It was almost a habit for him when he gets all hyped especially when the excitement is pent up in himself.

"Who the fuck are the Midoriya's?"

And almost immediately, Kirishima's face fell into stricken disbelief. Had he said something wrong?
It felt like there was a pin dropped in the suddenly silent room, a bomb waiting for explode.
As if on cue, Kirishima shrieked.

"YOU DON'T KNOW THE MIDORIYA'S!?"

"Keep it down, fuckwad. You're hurting my ears with your puberty voice."

Kirishima was about to protest, but quickly decided against it. He studied Bakugou's face carefully, taking in the stern frown and his furrowed eyebrows. Shit; he wasn't joking when he said he didn't know who they were.

"Are you gonna explain or not? I don't have time for your shit."

"Just chill for a moment, Bakubro," Bakugou noticeably grit his teeth at the endearing nickname, "let me tell you who they are exactly."

Kirishima fumbled around, looking left- and grabbing a stool that Katsuki's assistant sat in when she applied make up on his face.
Sitting on the star decorated seat, he adjusted himself until he was comfortable as he clasped his hands together in a praying motion, sharply inhaling.

Bakugou was about to bark out another insult, before Kirishima cut him off.

"So. Midoriyas. Only two of them known to have that last name and stuff. Dunno where the dad went. The mom-Inko?- started designing clothes when her husband left her to deal with the money problems. She started selling them online, her brand named "Getchel" got famous as all hell. Apparently, her designs were fucking amazing. She started her own company. Her son- Izuku - modeled the clothes to advertise. Suddenly all sorts of people wanted to hire him for shit like photography, acting, advertising, you name it. He became famous. Apparently he's a gentleman like Your mom said. So uh. She decided to made a contract between you two."

Kirishima gulped in air the moment he was done, being suddenly greeted by a shell-shocked looking Bakugou, irises noticeably dilated. His fists were tightly clenched on his lap, shaking with Anger. Kirishima immediately chuckled nervously at the sight, a thin sheet of sweat on his forehead despite the cold air conditioner blowing into the room.

"Uh. Yeah. I'm just gonna-"

Katsuki growled, the sound from deep in his throat made Kirishima shrink. It sounded feral, full of hate. He was evidently pissed off.
The tension in the atmosphere was now so thick that Eijirou guessed that even a sharp knife couldn't slice through it.

"And why, did my dear fucking mother," he spat at the word 'mother'. "Not. Tell. Me. This?"

Kirishima swallowed thickly.

"Because.. She knew you were going to be.. Well... Pissed about it..?"

It sounded more like a question, and Eijirou quickly cringed at that.

"Oh," Bakugou chuckled humorlessly. "I surely fucking am right now."