What was he doing?
Bakugou didn’t know what came over him, what pushover part of his mind caved to those big eyes.
He turned it over in his head while he dug through the bathroom cabinets for the first aid kit. Opening drawers, moving items around.
“It’s here somewhere.” He said mostly to himself, but Kirishima heard it.
The redhead sat on the toilet seat, injured hands resting on his lap as he watched Bakugou tear through everything. He hadn’t uttered a word since entering the house besides a quick hello to Mitsuki. Then silence.
After another look in every area, Bakugou grunted and left the bathroom to search in another place. He stomped across the hall and opened the closet, moving baskets of shampoo and shit around until he finally found the white case with a red cross on its cover.
Kirishima was sitting in his bathroom, in his house, waiting to be tended to by Bakugou. Even after all the rumors went around and had put a large target on his back. Now, Bakugou wasn’t going to ignore the slight detail that he was tending to injuries made in his honor, but there would be no thanks given.
When he entered the bathroom again, Kirishima hadn’t moved an inch. Eyes trained on the floor in front of him like some dog that had been scolded.
Bakugou grunted and dropped the box onto the counter and opened it. He’d need to check the hand closer now that they were in the light. Just in case the knuckles were split as well.
He deserved split knuckles for all the shit I’ve been through.
Bakugou stepped between Kirishima’s long legs, taking a moment to regard how thick his thighs were compared to Bakugou’s own before holding a hand out. “Hand.”
Kirishima lifted his gaze up Bakugou slowly until it reached a steeled crimson stare. Slowly, he offered his hand up into Bakugou’s.
The smaller man huffed and brought it harshly up to his eyes. Inspecting the colored and raw flesh.
Kirishima’s knuckles were in tough shape: purple and yellow bruises encased his first two knuckles then speckled the rest, blood smeared over them but Bakugou couldn’t tell if it was his or someone else’s. They weren’t broken, that much was clear.
“Wash your hands.” Bakugou commanded, giving Kirishima enough space to reach the sink. He stayed quiet and for that Bakugou was thankful. Right now, nothing needed to be said.
Kirishima dried his hands off and plopped back down on the toilet. In their position, Bakugou was about eye level to the quarterback, making him feel even tinier near him.
Fuck, that should not be so hot.
Bakugou stood between his knees, leaning over him to grab cotton swabs and bacitracin.
Why had Kirishima even done all that?
The blond held his hand out again and Kirishima obeyed the silent command. Watching him become consumed in his task.
The hand had tiny cuts over the knuckles. That’s not so bad. A little dot of bacitracin was applied around his hand. Slowly he started to smear it all over.
Kirishima pulled away slightly when Bakugou pressed hard.
“Stop moving!” Bakugou scolded, gripping him firmer.
Kirishima frowned but obeyed.
Bakugou continued his work.
What was the correlation between everything? Where had it originated?
The first initial contact had been from Shigaraki, and he was known to stir shit up.
Could that bastard have started it all?
It was a possibility, but where had he even heard about their hang out? That’s where Kirishima would come in. If he actually had told people false stories, then that would explain Shigaraki’s report. However, would someone that didn’t really see Bakugou with value, go head and beat up people that made passes to him? Treated him just the way Kirishima ‘said’ he liked to be? The way he ‘let’ people treat him?
No. That’s where something doesn’t add up.
Unless Kirishima was a possessive asshole that only wanted Bakugou to himself for a sick power move. That was a possibility but he hadn’t seemed that way.
Bakugou let the hand drop once more.
“Ice time,” He mumbled and put all the supplies away.
Kirishima followed close behind, all the way down the stairs and into the kitchen. Bakugou rummaged through the freezer for a soft ice pack and wrapped it in a towel.
He turned back to Kirishima, grabbing his hand again and placing the ice pack on top.
The redhead hissed and tried to yank his hand back, “He-Hey, that hurts!”
Bakugou lifted the ice with a quirked brow, “When you bruise your knuckles, you’re suppose to apply cold pressure for 15-20 minutes to reduce swelling. It’s going to fuckin’ hurt.”
Kirishima pouted but didn’t put his hand back, “Yeah, but you don’t have to try and make it worse.”
God, what a baby. Bakugou cocked his head to the side with a sigh, “Fine. I’ll be gentle so you don’t cry, now give me your hand.”
Kirishima hesitated before holding his hand out again. Bakugou took it back and followed through, holding the ice against his knuckles gently.
They stood in that kitchen for another five minutes. Bakugou’s brow was bunched together in a scowl while he thought, eyes distant. Kirishima watched him, eyes looking him over slowly. Pain in his hand long forgotten.
That huge hand warmed Bakugou’s.
He really was massive.
It tightened the hold on him slightly.
Bakugou almost jump.
Crimson eyes lifted up, meeting ruby.
Why did you do it?
He’d find out in a minute.
Bakugou stepped back, put the ice pack away. Without a word, he walked up to his room. Already knowing Kirishima was right behind.
When had it all gone wrong?
Oh don’t act confused and in disarray. You know damn well when.
It started from agreeing to even hang out with the big oaf. Falling victim to his smile and kind guy act. Classic shit Bakugou should have picked up like some hound dog on a case. Though, what can you do when there is a nice plate of meat in the way and all you wanna do is dig in?
Shit is hard to move past.
But so was having rumors spread about you and becoming a bigger slut by word of mouth in that High School’s history.
I might actually punch him in the face.
It was tempting.
Bakugou stepped to the side, Kirishima continued in the room and stood by his dresser. The shorter male shut the door and made a show of slowly walking to the bed and sitting on its edge. Leaning back on his hands like he was about to scold the quarterback into oblivion. He might as well.
Kirishima shifted with nerves, chewing on his plush lip and frowned.
Bakugou decided, with disdain, that such an expression didn’t suit his features at all.
“I’m listening.” He hummed coldly.
Kirishima nodded and stepped towards him, “Bakugo, I-“ The blond perked a brow at his advances so Kirishima stayed in place, hands clenched by his side.
“I know it looks horrible, and really bad on my part.”
“And I probably seem like some scumbag that only wanted to ‘hang out’ with you because I wanted to embarrass you,”
“Or because I just wanted to use you to gain popularity or come off better than anyone else to have been able to get the gay kid in school to sleep with me.”
Bakugou frowned. Well. I did not think of that one.
Kirishima’s expression was disgusted before snapping rapidly to distress. “But that is a bunch of bullshit. I mean, what kind of person would even do that?”
Bakugou shrugged, “I don’t know, Kirishima. What kind?”
Kirishima scowled at the floor, “Some worthless piece of shit that doesn’t understand what a virtue it is to hang out with you. A kind of person that deserved to get punched in the face over and over and taken to the hospital for a broken nose and fractured jaw or whatever.” He raised his bruised hand haphazardly and let it drop.
A swell of something twitched in Bakugou’s chest at that. A virtue? Kirishima plain and simple said his company was a virtue. But was it still just pretty words? And he sent someone to the fucking hospital?
Kirishima wasn’t done though, not by a long shot. The redhead began pacing his room, teeth gritted in anger. “People that spread rumors always pissed me off. Even in middle school when I was… but then, I wasn’t able to do shit. Now I can. And I did. I punched those assholes in the face but it’s not enough- I know it’s not enough.” He stopped and faced the blond. “It’s not enough because you still don’t believe me. It’s true, isn’t it?”
There was a part of him that did not believe nor want to of what the quarterback was saying. It was the same part that preferred being alone and riding solo. Then the other half that was absolutely swooning and swaying to the words leaving those pretty lips and knowing what he had done. Whether or not they would come to an agreement would be hard. Bakugou was still scorned from it all.
He huffed coldly, “What do you think? Of course I’m upset still. I was harassed verbally and physically. They didn’t get as far as they hoped but it was still far enough. I don’t know what you were thinking, telling people about our hang out. You know the school is a homophobic garbage clusterfuck. Why? And the worst part is it got to fucking Shigaraki, of all people.”
Shigaraki could go fuck himself.
“I’m sorry, did you say Shigaraki?” Kirishima asked low. In the same tone when he asked for those bastards names in the hall.
Bakugou set him with a calculating narrowed stare. “Were you not listening? God, must I repeat my-“
Kirishima took a step closer, “Don't be like that, Bakugou. Just tell me what he said.”
The blond snapped his head back and stood up, “You can’t tell me what to not be like! I can act however I want!” But his retort didn’t waver Kirishima’s angered expression.
He looked just about ready to snap.
Bakugou would be lying if he said it didn’t make him twitch, interested.
Finally he rolled his eyes and dropped back on the bed, “The day I told you to ‘go fuck yourself, piece of utter shit ’ in the field-“
“You never said that.”
“Was the day Shigaraki snuck up on me in the locker room. Passed a comment on my ‘boyfriend’, and had me right in his hand. Pretty much, the asshole said word around the school was that we hooked up on Friday and that I…”
Bakugou looked away.
“I.. let you have your way with me.. I told him he was fucking stupid and that we didn’t nor was it any of his damn business. Then he threatened me and left. Bastard touched my face like we were close.”
Kirishima was silent.
Bakugou scowled at his hands, “I was pissed off. I felt disgusting and so- so fucking- fuck, I just felt horrible.” Crimson eyes lifted to settle on Kirishima’s back.
“I just couldn’t, I can’t understand how what or why. I just fucking can’t grasp it at all, put it in perspective, Kirishima. Explain what the fuck was your reason for all of that.”
Kirishima stayed silent, turned away. His head shook slowly.
Is he ignoring me?
“Can you? Is that even a possibility?”
Bakugou was starting to become angry. “Or am I going to stay in dark as some quarterbacks open hole to fuck into!?”
The more Kirishima stayed silent the more he grew desperate for a response. Bakugou stood and stepped towards him, “Am I that useless and meaningless that you can even look at me!?”
Angry tears pricked his eyes.
“Who did you tell!? Did you tell Shigaraki directly!?”
Bakugou clenched his fists. All resolve snapped.
“Did you not expect this!? What the FUCK! What am I, Kirishima!? Was I good!? You never answered that! Never said how amazing I was, never teased me so I knew what I had to look forward to when someone else came knocking at my door or sat at my fucking table!”
He gripped Kirishima’s shirt and tugged, “HUH!?”
That was when Kirishima turned around, tears streaming down his face.
Bakugou faltered, own angry expression losing steam at the sight of how utterly ruined the taller boy looked.
Kirishima inhaled slowly, clearing his throat and looked off. “I.. um.”
Slowly, Bakugou saw his shoulders begin to shake.
“I got to go.”
Bakugou stared. “What?”
Kirishima pulled out of his grip, “I’m sorry, I just-.. I gotta go.” He took off out the door.
Leaving Bakugou standing in the middle of his room alone, without an actual explanation, crying, and utterly fucking lost.
He heard the front door open and close before fully looking at himself in the mirror and throwing a hand over his mouth to stifle the sobs.
Bakugou turned away, a high pitched whine leaving him.
What the FUCK?
Fuck, why can’t this just be over? What did I fucking do for this?
The loss of something he never really had seeped into his lungs and slowly Bakugou couldn’t breathe. Beginning to choke on his own air.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
And just like that, Bakugou officially was alone.