At first, no one noticed anything besides how irritable he was.
It wasn’t anything new; Bakugou had always been a touchy guy, yelling at anyone who touched him or even gave him a halfway sideways look. These levels were new though— he was louder, crueler, choosing to isolate himself and arrive seconds before class began or late than to walk the halls. He was the first one to shower and leave the dorm and the last one to go to bed. His class just assumed it was frustration with his less than stellar internship. They all unanimously, silently, decided to give him a little space.
It was when he snapped at Kirishima that they realized there was something wrong.
Bakugou had arrived early to class for once. Maybe that was an omen for things to come; none of them were sure.
But one moment Kirishima was wandering over and trying to spark up a conversation and the next he was on the floor, more taken aback by the sudden explosion than hurt.
All talking stopped.
Bakugou’s rough, uneven breathing sounded very loud in the silence.
“Bakubro, what the hell?” Kirishima said, pulling himself up.
“Don’t—” he hissed, fingers clutching his desk so tight they could all hear creaking. “Don’t.”
“Bakugou—” Kirishima said, his voice softer and more timid. “What did I—”
“You know what you did!” Bakugou yelled, slamming his hands on the table. Everyone around him flinched. “Fuck— fuck— ”
He stumbled to his feet, forgetting entirely about his bag. “Don’t fucking follow me.”
Slamming the door behind him, the class sat spellbound for a moment before half of them rushed over Kirishima, asking questions and pulling him to his feet.
Kirishima stared at the door, bewildered hurt plain across his face. “Nothing,” he said. “I just—I just did...normal things.”
“The hell,” Kaminari said from his seat. “Was that?”
None of them had an answer.