Lmao w o w the title to this chapter s u c k s but I couldn't think of anything else and I wanted to get this posted. So, apologies for that, aha.

---
Kirishima

Waiting sucked. It had only been a few days since then and Kirishima felt like he was going freaking bonkers. As much as Jirou and the others kept telling him not to think too much about the whole thing, the advice seemed to have the opposite effect and was almost the only thing on his mind. And, in the midst of 'too much thinking about it', he'd found that he actually... really wanted to like Bakugou. Whether he actually did was a different story.

By the time Friday rolled around, Kirishima couldn't help but having noticed that his roommate was quite a bit more standoffish than usual. His ramblings in the mornings when he was woken up before he was ready (read: every morning) were somehow grumpier than they'd been over the past couple of weeks, and he hardly even spoke to Kirishima as he trudged around getting ready. He stopped leaving with Kirishima to head to breakfast, too. Not only that, but his presence in the room in general while the redhead was there was more scarce than usual.

As a result, Kirishima held a knot of uneasiness in his stomach, and try as he might, he couldn't shake off the bad feeling. And yet he found he couldn't muster the guts to confront Bakugou about it.

Friday morning, Bakugou had even gone as far as to leave without him rather than waiting as he had before on the seldom occasion he was ready before the redhead. He hadn't even muttered a 'see ya' before the door practically slammed behind him.

As Kirishima sat at breakfast with his friends, only picking at the food that he'd normally be stuffing his face with, his friends merely chalked his behavior up to frustration about his undefined feelings for the blonde.

Kaminari had nudged him in the ribs with an elbow. "You're staring an awful lot in the direction of Bakugou's table," he teased. And Kirishima knew he was; he couldn't help it. He swore he could feel the ice from the cold shoulder Bakugou was giving him from across the entire mess hall, where the blonde sat with his usual crowd—Midoriya, Todoroki, and their other friends whose names Kirishima couldn't remember off the top of his head.

"Why don't you sit with them for once?" Mina had suggested. "You're friends with Midoriya, right?"

Kirishima'd only shrugged, trying not to give too much about his thoughts away. "We sit next to each other and exchange notes in algebra sometimes, but I don't really think he and I are friends enough to eat together."

"Then go sit with Bakugou," Kaminari pressed in a hush, though the person in question was quite a ways away and unless he'd had superhuman hearing, wouldn't have been able to hear the remark over the chatter echoing throughout the mess hall. "He's your roommate, man. And you guys are pretty much friends now. Between the both of them, it wouldn't be weird."

"I dunno. I feel like it would be too obvious," he said in a lame excuse.

"I think you're only saying that because you feel it would be obvious since you've got this dilemma going on," Jirou pointed out.

Kirishima had only shrugged again and the subject dropped after that.

⚜️

"Yo, Kiri, wanna catch a movie with us tonight?" Kaminari was asking between fifth and sixth period as they were headed in the same direction.

"Can't, man," Kirishima sighed. "History teacher just reminded us about the test on Monday that I totally forgot to study for, so I have to cram all weekend."

"Save it for tomorrow, dude," Kaminari reasoned. "Movie's only a couple hours long, and then you can get back and study. You can even invite Bakugou," he said with a teasing grin. A grin Kirishima made a point to ignore.

"Sorry, dude, but I really gotta study. I'm already close to having a D in this class and if I fail I might have to do summer school."

"A D isn't even failing."

"Close enough. My mom will definitely give me an earful, anyway. I'll catch a movie with you guys next week or something, okay? I gotta get to class, so I'll see you later."

Kirishima left his friend with a fist bump and a disappointed look, but he seriously couldn't help that he sucked ass at history. Though, being honest, while having to study was absolutely the reason he couldn't (or, rather, shouldn't) go to the movies with the guys, under the surface it was an excuse to get out of it. It wasn't that he didn't wanna go—he hadn't lied or anything—but this whole Bakugou issue had his mind feeling like mush and he'd had more than enough teasing from his friends about the whole thing for the week. Weirdly enough, he was looking forward to burying himself in a book (even if it was a boring-ass textbook) and doing his absolute best not to think about it for at least a good couple of hours.

What he didn't expect, however, was for Bakugou to be in the room when he made it back after eighth period was over. In the past week or so, Bakugou hadn't once been in the room when Kirishima got back no matter what time it was. In fact, there'd been once where he'd gotten in so late that he'd probably broken dorm curfew and had woken Kirishima up when he shut the door.

Needless to say, he was surprised to see the blonde stretched across his bed, doing nothing but—oddly enough—staring blankly at the ceiling. He didn't so much as look up when Kirishima walked in.

"Oh hey, man," he said, doing his best to ignore the weird fluttering of his insides as soon as he saw the blonde. It wasn't a bad fluttering, but it wasn't a particularly good one, either.

Bakugou said nothing, so Kirishima silently kicked off his shoes and dropped his backpack onto his bed. He was just settling down with his books, a notebook, and a pencil when he glanced over at his roommate, who hadn't so much as twitched a muscle.

And suddenly the words were flying out of his face without permission. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Fucking peachy," Bakugou drawled.

A deep frown settled itself across Kirishima's brow. "What's up, dude?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit."

That worked. With a glare, Bakugou's head turned toward him. "What?" he snapped.

"C'mon, Bakugou, you've been avoiding me all week and acting like I pissed in your shoes or something. I'm not an idiot—I know something's up."

In a flash, the blonde sat up, his glare all but relaxing. "First of all, I beg to differ that you're not an idiot. Secondly, if you're so fucking worried about 'what's up,' fine—I fucking heard you and your dumb friend talking about me the other day, and then you guys fucking rushed out of the room like I'm the freakin' plague. So I'm pissed that you didn't just fucking tell me you have a problem with me instead of saying shit about it behind my back like an immature fuckwad."

Kirishima's back stiffened, something catching in his throat. Between the harsh tone of Bakugou's voice and his words overall, it became difficult to swallow around. And dammit, he'd known Bakugou had heard him and Kaminari the other day. He could feel it in his freaking gut, and those gut feelings proved to be right more often than not. Still, there was some sort of relief mixed in with all of the tension inside of him—Bakugou clearly hadn't heard enough to know the true context of their conversation, and that it was the exact opposite of having a problem with him.

He had to come up with something, and fast.

"Whoa whoa, okay," he said quickly, holding up his hands and trying to backtrack. "That's not what it was at all, dude. Seriously. We were talking 'cause I was actually worried you have issues with me, and that I'd made a bad impression or something, and I was trying to find a way to make up for it, I guess. I, uh, went to Kaminari for advice about it, 'cause, y'know, he's one of my best friends."

The glare etched into Bakugou's features shifted from anger to confusion. "What the fuck made you think I have a problem with you?"

Trying to remain casual despite his racing heart, Kirishima shrugged. "I dunno... just seems like you wanna punch me in the face sometimes, or that you're, like, super annoyed by me," he said.

Bakugou seemed to search his face for a long minute before he crossed his arms, essentially stuffing his fists into his armpits. "You're a moron. That's just the way I am, Dumb Hair. You don't gotta take that shit personally."

After swallowing, the redhead let loose a sheepish laugh, finally breaking his gaze away from the intense red one across the room. "Yeah, I kinda realize that now." And he did, though his excuse about what Bakugou had probably heard wasn't fully accurate. True, there were times where he really believed Bakugou wanted to plant his knuckles into the side of Kirishima's face or kick him in the shins, but it hadn't taken him long to learn that it really just how Bakugou was. He hadn't taken any of the insults personally, at least not after the first few weeks of living with him and simply learning about him as a person.

While he felt bad for half-lying, Kirishima couldn't have Bakugou knowing the true context of that conversation. Not yet. Not before he himself knew what the hell was going on in his own brain.

"Sorry, man," Kirishima continued. "'S not usually like me to make something out of nothing. We cool, though?"

"As long as you're not gonna talk about me behind my back and say shit to my face from now on, yeah, we're good," Bakugou told him, matter-of-fact.

The all-too familiar feeling of a grin found its way back onto Kirishima's face. "Deal," he agreed, meeting the blonde's sturdy gaze again. Though as soon as the grin was there, it faded again, replaced by a confused ruffle in his forehead. "Except... wait, what made you think I had a problem with you? Other than us talking about you, I mean... like, did I seriously give you that impression?"

For the first time since Bakugou had sat up, his eyeliner-smudged, narrow, red eyes tugged away from Kirishima's face, cutting to his right. The hesitation was clear in the way he leaned slightly back before he finally spoke. "...I don't fucking know. People tend to hate me for the same reason you thought I hated you, so I just assumed," he mumbled with a stiff shrug. "That four-eyed prick did for sure, anyway."

"Yeah, but you and Iida are like, polar opposites, man."

"So what, you think you and me are so alike?" grumbled Bakugou as his eyes lifted once more. (And Kirishima realized he really liked the way it felt to have Bakugou's hard, scarlet eyes trained right on him.)

Quickly, he brushed off that thought and said, "Well, more alike than you and Iida, anyway."

"Yeah? The fuck makes you think that?" Almost challenging, Bakugou leaned forward, the one pierced brow cocked. There was some sort of glint in his eyes, though, one that Kirishima thought to be somewhat amused. It was only then that relief washed over him after several days of worrying (probably too much, he had to admit) about why Bakugou had been avoiding him, and he grinned again.

"I mean, you're kind of a rebel, right? I used to be, too. Not horribly, but I got this scar on my eye and the nickname red riot from trying to be, anyway," he explained, jabbing his thumb up towards his right eye.

"The fuck? What scar?" Bakugou squinted as if he was trying to see it.

"The one on my eyelid, man," Kirishima said. "It's kinda small and not too much darker than the rest of my skin, but it's there."

The blonde leaned even further forward—so far, in fact, that it the bed sunk under his weight enough that it looked as though he was about to topple off of it. Before he did, he sat up straight again. "You're shitting me. I don't see anything."

"I'm not!" the redhead quickly defended, jumping up from his seat. Crossing the floor space between the two beds in a mere three strides, he held his right eyelid shut with a finger and leaned down for Bakugou to see. Skeptical, the other leaned toward him, inspecting the eyelid for said scar while Kirishima did his best to keep his heart from bursting right out of his ribcage, unable to help but notice that Bakugou's face—that damn handsome face he knew he liked—was a mere three inches or so away from his own.

And hell, he wished he'd been able to have both eyes open, to see Bakugou in greater detail at such close proximity. As soon as he had that thought, he shut it down and was thankful when Bakugou said, "Damn, look at that. The fuck happened?"

Kirishima backed up to his bed and plopped onto its edge. "I was in like seventh or eighth grade and I kinda brought fireworks to school," he explained, a bit sheepish.

"That scar is too damn small to be from a fucking firework, idiot."

"No—yeah, you're totally right! It wasn't from a firework. Me and a couple friends ended up ditching one of our classes to sneak off campus and set some off. But we weren't really that careful and we ended up getting caught. Like idiots, we ran from the campus security guard who found us and tried to jump a fence, but I kinda tripped and was unfortunate to basically faceplant into some broken glass. Cut open my hands and everything, and I was terrified I was gonna go blind in one eye," he said, laughing as he remembered. "It only cut my eyelid, though, but it bled a lot. Like, I seriously had blood all over my face and dripping all down the front of my shirt. The school nurse said it was just 'cause it was a head wound, but because of all the blood I guess one of my friends came up with the nickname and spread it around campus. It died down after about a year, though."

By the end of Kirishima's retelling, Bakugou's features held an unmistakable, almost cocky grin. "Damn. Never woulda guessed you'd do someshit like that."

"What? Break the rules? You already know about my board," Kirishima told him, gesturing at the closet where said board was stashed. "I'm not completely innocent. But... I guess I'm quite a bit more mature than I was back then, and definitely never been ballsy enough to write 'fuck you' on the wall in a staff bathroom."

With a snort, Bakugou uncrossed his arms to fold his hands back behind his head. "That's practically nothing compared to some other shit I've gotten into."

"Oh yeah?" the redhead asked, grinning. "Like what?"

Studying momentarily forgotten, Kirishima was more than intrigued as Bakugou launched into a few stories of times he'd gotten in trouble throughout middle and high school. In the midst of his stories, they ended up on the floor between the beds facing each other, Kirishima having piled his books and things around him (though he still ignored them, too preoccupied with stories much more intriguing than whatever shit was in that history textbook).

Nearly an hour had passed and the sun had reached the point low enough to be shining directly in their window by the time Bakugou had finished retelling the story about his tattoo and how his mom had flipped out when she'd discovered it.

"Damn, so that was the last straw then, huh?" Kirishima asked. "Why they sent you here."

"Yup. Not like I didn't put up a fight, though, which is why my dad came up with this shitty ultimatum and is basically the only reason I broke down and agreed." The blonde leaned his head back against his bed as he continually tossed up and caught his stress ball.

"What was the ultimatum?" Kirishima was too curious not to ask.

"A fucking bike."

A short red brow hiked up. "...a bike?"

"Not just a fucking bike, you moron. A motorcycle."

"Oh... oh! Right. You have a buncha pictures on your Instagram," Kirishima recalled, nodding. "But how's that an ultimatum?"

"I've wanted one since I was like, ten. And they've known it. But after all the shit I pulled at my old school and in middle school, they told me they were gonna dump all the money they'd been saving to get me one into some charity. When that didn't 'fix my bad behavior'—" he air quoted "—they decided to call fucking Aizawa and send me here, saying it's my 'last chance' or whatever and that if I graduate with at least decent grades, they'd let me get a bike and take riding lessons."

Kirishima found himself grinning again. "You like riding that much, huh? That you'd suffer through boarding school for it?"

The stress ball snapped back into Bakugou's hand. "Lemme put it to you this way, Dumb Hair," he said, "The first time I rode one with one of my dad's friends, it practically fuckin' saved me." Bakugou propped a knee up, his eyes following nothing but the motion of the ball as it went up again.

"Wait, what do you mean?" Kirishima felt himself lean forward, intrigued.

"I mean it felt like freedom."

"From what? From your parents?"

"From everything."

The redhead was nodding again, leaning once more back into the side of his own bed. "I think I get it," he said. "I feel that way when I'm skating sometimes. 'S like a release, right? You kinda let go of everything outside and just focus on what you're doing. And like, for a while that's all that exists. It's all that matters."

The ball thumped into the ceiling before snapping once more into a waiting palm and Bakugou's eyes, for the first time in several minutes, lifted back to Kirishima's. "Yeah. Exactly."

Kirishima's responding grin was rueful, but only slightly. "Yeah, man. I miss that feeling."

"The fuck you mean? You can skate all around here every day."

"True, but I only really get into that groove when I'm at the skate park, and the nearest one to this school is like twelve miles away, which is way farther than I should be going if I wanna stay out of trouble."

The blonde snorted. "Sucks to suck."

"Yup." Kirishima popped the p. "Anyway, I gotta get studying. If you're serious about that bike, you should get your homework done, too."

The blonde clicked his tongue in annoyance, but he discarded his stress ball on his bed and yanked his backpack off of it anyway. As Kirishima was flipping through his history textbook to find the page he'd left off on, Bakugou dumped his own books out of his backpack, an aggravated scowl on his face.

"Hey, uh, mind if I turn on some background music?" Kirishima asked before he started reading.

"Whatever," the blonde mumbled.

Kirishima opened one of his favorite Spotify playlists, a mixture he'd made of all of his favorite bands, and tapped shuffle. Leaving it at a low volume, he set the phone on the floor beside him and, reluctantly, dove into his textbook as Bakugou leaned over his own notes. Aside from the music, the two fell into a comfortable silence of studying until the sun went down.

---

Ahh I like this chapter :')

So, would you guys be annoyed/turned off if this fic reached 40-ish chapters? ._. I know this is only chapter 6, but I have a lot planned for it. I just don't want it to end up being too long that people lose interest. If so, I can totally cut some things out and shorten it but if not, man, I'm gonna go all out x3 Please let me know!! <3

Also, I occasionally post writing updates and such on my Instagram @violetconstellations if you'd like to check that out!

♥