This was originally supposed to be a oneshot, and the next thing I knew it was nearly 20K words long and still had a long way to go, sooo it'll just be a short fic instead, max of 5 chapters, min of 3; not sure yet.

---

"Y'know, that same guy comes in here really often after leaving the hospital."

"What guy?"

"The blonde." Kirishima jerked his chin in the direction of the counter where said blonde stood in line to make his order, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, a seemingly permanent irate frown set upon his brow. The plethora of people during the afternoon rush only seemed to deepen the wrinkles between his eyes.

Kaminari twisted in his seat to seek out the person in question. "Huh, really?"

"Yeah."

"And you noticed?"

"You haven't?" Kirishima asked; even after his friend turned back to face him, he didn't take his eyes from the blonde and watched as he stepped up to tell the barista his order.

"No? Should I have?"

Kirishima shrugged. "Dunno. You think it's weird?"

"What?"

"That I've noticed."

Kaminari hummed thoughtfully, a smug look on his face. "Nah, not for you. At least, not if you got a thing for someone," he said with a somewhat smug grin.

Kirishima stiffened. "What? Really?"

"The only time I've seen you pay that much attention was when you were crushing hard on that dude back in high school."

Warmth began to flood Kirishima's face, his eyes drifting back towards the blonde who was now standing at the opposite end of the counter, scrolling mindlessly through something on his phone while he waited for his order to be made. It was the same as usual, only this time Kirishima was really looking at him.

His hair, an ash blonde that almost looked bleached, stuck up in about a thousand different directions much the way Kirishima's own did. His skin was fair, he had a slender build, and couldn't be any taller than Kirishima was. The scowl that was set upon the stranger's face—bearing several piercings, Kirishima suddenly noticed—seemed almost permanent, and he never really looked anyone directly in the face. His posture was stiff, almost defensive as though he was ready to lash out at anyone who looked at him the wrong way. Still, Kirishima couldn't deny the appeal of that face—slightly round in the cheeks but strong in the jaw.

"You said he comes from the hospital?" Kaminari asked, twisting in his seat to see said hospital, diagonally across the street with the door in a direct line of sight from their usual table.

"Yeah," Kirishima said without taking his eyes from the blonde.

"So you do have a thing for him," Kaminari said as he twisted back, shit-eating grin and all, pulling Kirishima's attention back to him. "Right?"

Kirishima relented, laughing a little as he rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck and internally scolding himself for staring like an idiot. "Maybe I do, man. But I don't even know him, ya know?"

"Sooo get to know him," Kaminari said. "You said he's here often, right?"

"Yep."

"There ya go, man."

Kirishima sat up straighter, drumming his fingers on the surface of the table on either side of his laptop where the document he was supposed to be writing an essay on color theory was still blank, the little cursor blinking expectantly at him. "How'm I supposed to approach him, though?"

Kaminari shrugged. "We're in a Starbucks, right? Offer to buy him a coffee or something. You're pretty good at flirting, or so I've heard."

Kirishima laughed, almost giddy. "I try," he said. "But like, what if he's taken? Or, shit—what if he's straight?"

Kaminari not-so-subtly turned back around to see the blonde, who was stuffing a straw into his Frappuccino and crumpling the wrapper. He watched for a minute as the stranger tossed a few things in the trash and slinked toward the side door before disappearing back outside.

"Hard to say, dude. He doesn't really seem the type to like anyone."

Kirishima grinned. "All I can do is try, right? Bet I can change that."

Kaminari's brows lifted. "You certainly have bigger balls than me, my friend."

All Kirishima could do was laugh.

~~~

The following week, it was as though—for once—fate was on Kirishima's side. He'd gotten up to discard some of his things in the trash near the door of the Starbucks when he turned around and ran right smack into someone who'd just stepped in the door behind him.

"Shit, sorry!" he sputtered out automatically, instinctively reaching out to steady the other who'd stumbled back and very nearly fell straight on his ass.

"Watch where you're going, asshole!" the other growled, yanking himself away from Kirishima.

In the split second their eyes met, Kirishima's stomach flooded with butterflies. Red stared into red, anger into an apologetic gaze. The blonde he'd told Kaminari about stood only a few feet in front of him, eyeliner-smudged eyes glaring straight at him. In a split second, Kirishima took in his pale face—straight, narrow nose; high cheekbones; wrinkled brow; straight, strong jawline; the piercing in his left brow, the one in his septum, the... four in his lower lip alone. One glance (to make sure the stranger was okay, really, he swore) gave him a look at the black upon black upon black of his outfit—a collar, a leather jacket, ripped jeans and combat boots. His irises held a burning crimson, the whites around them slightly bloodshot and their edges subtly wrinkled, likely from the constant scowl he seemed to bear.

A split second, and Kirishima had already decided he was more attractive up close.

"Sorry, man, I didn't see you," he said again, holding his hands up in surrender. "Are you alright?"

"No shit? I'm fucking fine," the stranger muttered.

"Here—let me make it up to you and buy your drink, yeah?"

"I don't need your stupid pity. Just watch where the fuck you're going from now on," grumbled the blonde as he turned and practically stomped over to the line.

"Are you sure? I feel really bad," Kirishima tried to reason, following. "Let me make it up to you."

"Screw off, shitty hair."

The redhead blinked and backed off a bit. "Alright, alright. But if you change your mind, I'm right over there, okay?" He pointed over toward where Kaminari was very obviously watching the whole thing go down.

The blonde said nothing, leaving Kirishima to retreat back to the table and slump into the chair across from his friend. He planted his forehead on the table in embarrassment before Kaminari could say a word.

"Damn, dude," Kaminari said. "He looked like he was about to rip your head off."

"I know, right? I'm not usually so clumsy, but how he's probably never gonna wanna talk to me," the redhead moaned.

"Wait, you seriously still wanna talk to him after that?"

"Yeah. Why not?" Kirishima lifted his head, rested his chin on the table to look up at his friend.

"He was kind of a dick, don't you think? I didn't really hear what he said but he acted like you ran over his puppy or something."

Kirishima shrugged, glancing over toward the line where the blonde still looked like he was fuming. In fact, it very nearly looked like his shoulders were quivering in anger.

"I think he has every right to be mad, man. I smacked right into him like an idiot."

"What'd you say to him, anyway?"

"I apologized, of course, and then I offered to pay for his drink to make up for it, but he said he didn't need my pity or whatever. But it's not pity, right?" He lifted his head. "I was just tryin' to apologize."

Kaminari's shoulders bounced in a noncommittal shrug. "I dunno."

"Seriously, man, I feel awful. Did you see the way he stumbled? He probably would've fallen on his ass if I didn't catch him."

"You're probably thinking about it too much 'cause you're attracted to him," Kaminari said.

"I so am, and I made a terrible first impression." Kirishima slumped the heel of his hand into his cheek, trying almost desperately hard not to stare in the blonde's direction. "And he's even better looking up close," he sighed.

"Hate to say it, but I kinda don't know what to tell you, man. You're the one who's good at stuff like this. If I was on your level, I'd for sure have a girlfriend by now."

"But it was your idea to offer him a drink," Kirishima countered. "And I already screwed that one up."

"Dude, stop sounding so mopey," Kaminari said with a laugh. "Maybe by next week he'll have forgotten about it and you can try again."

I can only hope, Kirishima thought, unable to help thinking that fate sure had a funny way of 'being on his side'.

~~~

The following Friday, Kirishima was running late to meet Kaminari and practically stumbled in the front door of the small coffee shop only to run right smack into someone's leather-covered back.

"Ah crap, sorry!" he sputtered out automatically, quickly backtracking and wondering for a split second how he'd suddenly become so clumsy. When he looked up, it was straight into those same scarlet eyes from Wednesday, and he froze right where he stood. "It's you!"

The blonde's eyes were almost menacing, glaring right into Kirishima's. "You're seriously starting to piss me off," the blonde hissed.

"Dude, shit, I'm really sorry!" Kirishima held his hands up, scrambling to appease the blonde. He was almost sure the other probably wanted to pummel his face in. "I really don't know how this keeps happening. Seriously—let me buy your drink or something. I feel really bad."

"I don't need you to buy me shit, I just need you to start watching where the fuck you're going."

"I know, I know! I was in a hurry. But c'mon, let me make it up to you, alright?"

The blonde looked him over for another moment, though his expression was unreadable; Kirishima couldn't tell if he was actually considering taking him up on his offer or if he was trying to hold himself back from planting his knee right where it'd hurt the most, and from the burning anger in his already generally aggravated expression, the redhead could only guess the latter. And yet somehow he felt almost naked under that intense gaze in a way he couldn't really explain. Still, he did his best to plead with his eyes while preparing to retreat over to his usual table at the same time.

"You don't take no for an answer, do you?" grumbled the blonde.

Kirishima chuckled, a bit sheepish, as he rubbed at the back of his neck. "Nah man, I just feel bad that you keep being a victim of my clumsiness."

The blonde grunted, turning back toward where the line was beginning to move forward. After but a second's hesitation, Kirishima skipped forward, following. "So are ya gonna let me pay for your drink, or...?"

"Fucking fine, if that's what it takes to get you off my back, go for it."

Kirishima automatically relaxed a bit, satisfied that he'd gotten his foot in the door at least. Perhaps the sudden bout of klutziness really was a blessing in disguise.

"Oh, by the way," Kirishima said, sticking out his right hand in offering. "Name's Kirishima. Kirishima Eijirou."

The blonde's eyes fell to his hand, hovering in the air in waiting, and then back up to his smiling face before he turned to face forward again, saying nothing and entirely ignoring Kirishima's introduction. A bit awkwardly, the redhead slid his hand into his pocket.

"Can I get your name?" he asked after a minute.

"No."

"Why not?"

"'S none of your business."

The smile Kirishima managed to uphold finally faltered, and for another few moments there was silence between them. In it, the redhead glanced to his right, over where Kaminari was, yet again, not bothering to hide his staring from where he sat at their usual table, books and such stacked up in front of him while he waited. As soon as their eyes met, Kaminari's brows lifted and he smirked. In response, Kirishima gave him a light grimace and the slightest shake of the head. Still, Kaminari mimed a wave as if to give him a push.

Kaminari's words rang in his memory. "You're pretty good at flirting, or so I've heard."

Yeah, pretty good at flirting when the other person at least showed some interest in talking to him—or at least people he hadn't accidentally run into twice in a row.

But at that point, what had he to lose?

"So, we really gotta stop running into each other like this, man," he said with a somewhat forced laugh.

The blonde's dark-rimmed, crimson eyes cut in his direction. "You don't ever shut up, do you?" he muttered before, just as quickly as he'd looked at Kirishima, his eyes darted forward again.

"Aw c'mon, it was a joke!"

"No shit? Do I look stupid to you? I know it was a joke, but it sucked, especially since you're the one who keeps running into me."

"Alright, I'll admit it wasn't my best."

The blonde clicked his tongue and Kirishima elected to fall silent in that moment. He was totally blowing this. It wasn't like him to get so flustered, and sure as hell wasn't like him to accidentally trip into the same person twice in the same week. Hell, it wasn't like him to be so clumsy at all, and he knew it was providing the blonde with a really bad first impression.

And, much to his dismay, he could come up with no way to save himself from the puddle of embarrassment he was already in between the two of them ordering their drinks, paying, and then moving to the opposite end of the counter to wait. It was only when the barista was setting the drinks in front of him that he decided to speak again.

"Well I hope this makes you wanna chop my head off a little less." The grin came easy, fortunately.

"Sure, whatever," the blonde muttered, stuffing a straw into his Frappuccino.

"See ya around, man. Have a good one."

As he strode toward the door, the blonde threw a half-assed peace sign over his shoulder before disappearing back outside, leaving Kirishima to slump over to his table and flop into the chair across from Kaminari, who had his chin propped up on the heel of his hand.

"Well that blew, didn't it?" Kaminari said.

"Like a whistle," Kirishima sighed, propping his chin on his own hand. "I managed to get him to let me buy his drink, but I'm pretty sure he probably wanted to punch me in the face."

"I could tell. He's got some glare. Dude seems like an asshole to me."

Kirishima sat up, twisting the sleeve around his coffee cup. "He is an asshole, man, but... I dunno, there's just somethin' about him..."

"Like what?"

"I dunno. That's the problem. But I really wanna find out. Plus, I'm pretty sure I've never seen someone so attractive in my entire damn life," Kirishima sighed, slumping into his hand again, feeling positively pathetic.

"Oh shit, Kiri's got it bad," joked Kaminari, waggling his eyebrows at his friend with a smirk.

"...bro, I don't even know him. And now he probably thinks I'm a big clumsy idiot who sucks ass at flirting, and I don't even know his name."

"Damn, and I heard you're pretty good at flirting."

"You must have jinxed me."

"Hey! Why are you blaming me?" Kaminari sat up, stiffening defensively.

"'Cause if you hadn't said that before I wouldn't have gotten all nervous and stuff," Kirishima said with the hint of a grin twitching at his mouth.

"Hmph, I still don't see how it's my fault," Kaminari mumbled, flipping the top book in his pile open just as Kirishima reached for his bag and unzipped it.

"I'm just screwing with you, dude," the redhead said. "How could it be your fault that I suck at flirting with people I actually find attractive?" He slid out his laptop and lifted the lid. "Anyway, guess that's the end of that. I gotta focus on this dumb essay that's due on Tuesday anyway."

"Don't worry, man, other opportunities will come along," Kaminari said.

"I can only hope, right?" Kirishima chuckled. "Thanks, man. Hey, do you have those notes on color theory from the other day? Mine are hardly readable 'cause I was writing so fast..."

Kirishima dove himself into the mundane writing of a six page paper he should've started days ago, trying to get his mind off of the hovering embarrassment from his encounter with the blonde. Despite the paper being on something he was at least mildly interested in, writing in and of itself was tedious for someone who'd nearly failed three of his language and literature classes back in high school. Kirishima liked art; words and him didn't tend to get along too well. Through every paper he was forced to write (because his grades and therefore his degree depended on it), he found himself in wild envy of anyone who could breeze their way through an essay.

And it didn't help that, this time, he had the distraction of that damn attractive blonde and all of his oddly enticing irritableness as a giant distraction sitting in the center of his thoughts the entire time he was attempting to pluck away at the keyboard.

Eventually, the small rush of the Starbucks died down and the noise returned to an easy hum. Kaminari would occasionally pull his attention aside for questions about algebra (and he was happy to oblige—Kirishima would much rather be doing math than stupid writing) before going back to scratching his head with the tip of his pencil and frowning at his textbook, letting the silence fill the air between them again.

By the time Kirishima glanced at the clock again, only about a half an hour had passed since he'd sat down. He'd only written about three sentences before the door burst open, a flurry of cool air and anger whisking in and capturing the attention of everyone inside who wasn't wearing headphones. Kirishima's head snapped up to see the blonde furiously storming in their direction, eyes like daggers.

"He—"

Kirishima couldn't finish the word before his collar was seized in a fist and he had no choice but to stand if he didn't want his shirt to tear.

"Did you steal my wallet, asshole?!" the blonde growled, his brows mashed together in an infuriated frown.

"What? No! Of course I didn't!" Kirishima scrambled to defend, holding his hands up.

"Of course you'd fucking say that!" growled the blonde.

"You wanna look through my stuff? I swear I don't have it."

From behind him, Kaminari said, "Dude, chill!"

The blonde ignored him but released Kirishima's shirt anyway and stepped back. Kirishima couldn't help noticing how his shoulders were subtly quivering with anger or how the muscles in his jaw were flexing and relaxing.

"Look..." Kirishima said, tugging all of his pockets inside out and then dragging his backpack over, opening it for the blonde to go through. "I don't have it, alright? I wouldn't do something like that." By then they had the attention of everyone in the small space; out of the corner of his eye, Kirishima could see the barista behind the counter with her hand on the phone, probably ready to dial the authorities.

"Fucking hell," the blonde muttered, whirling around. He stopped halfway, though, like he didn't know where he should go.

"Where's the last place you saw it?" Kirishima asked. "I'll help you find it, alright?"

"I don't need your fucking help," the other muttered.

"C'mon, just let me help," the redhead urged. "It's better to have a second set of eyes, yeah? What's it look like?"

"Are you sure about this, Kiri?" Kaminari whispered.

Kirishima was already shutting his laptop and haphazardly stuffing his things into his backpack as he nodded, sending his friend a subtle grin. "Other opportunities, remember?" he mouthed. Aloud he said, "I've still got my phone, alright? I'll keep in touch." With that, he slung his backpack over a shoulder and turned back to the blonde. "So will you let me help you?"

"Whatever," the blonde grunted before striding back toward the door. "Since I won't believe you didn't take it until I fucking find it."

"Hey—I told you you could look through my stuff," Kirishima said, following.

"And how the fuck do I know you didn't hide it somewhere or someshit?" He shoved the door open with his shoulder.

"I guess you don't, and I don't blame you for not trusting me..." Kirishima mumbled, jogging after him down the sidewalk. "So I'll help you look and clear my name, okay? What's it look like?" he asked again.

"It's black. And leather," the blonde muttered.

"Okay, and where'd you see it last?"

"I don't fucking know!"

"Alright, let's just retrace your steps, then. Where were you before you went to Starbucks?"

The blonde stopped so suddenly that Kirishima very nearly walked right past him. He turned to face the blonde whose thumb was jabbed to his left, across the street, right at the hospital. Kirishima's eyes trailed over to it for a second and then back to the blonde, whose eyes were pointed straight down at the sidewalk and his opposite hand was clenched into a fist in his pocket.

"Let's start there, then. Maybe someone found it and turned it in or something." Kirishima started back down the sidewalk to the nearest crosswalk and after a second, the blonde followed. He tapped the button and settled in to wait. "It's gonna be okay, alright, man?" he said. "We'll find it."

"Whatever," the blonde spat.

The rest of the walk across the street and into the automatic front doors of the hospital was without any more conversation. Kirishima took the lead and stepped up to the round reception desk just to the left of the door.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" he asked, peeking at the woman over her computer screen.

"What can I help you with?"

"Where would someone go if they might've lost a wallet here?"

"Here's fine. I can radio security. Did the wallet have an ID in it?"

Kirishima turned back to the blonde, who muttered a "yeah."

"And the name on the ID?"

"...Bakugou Katsuki."

A grin pulled gently at the corners of Kirishima's lips as the woman spoke into her radio about a report of a missing wallet. Bakugou's frown hadn't faltered and the shaking of his shoulders didn't cease.

"Are you alright?" Kirishima murmured.

"Fine," quipped Bakugou without so much as glancing at the redhead.

Kirishima didn't believe that for a second, but decided not to pry—he barely knew Bakugou, had only met him two days ago, and it clearly wasn't his place to butt in too far. Besides, he knew how upsetting it could be to lose something as important as a wallet.

"I'm sorry, but no one has found or turned in a wallet today," the receptionist informed them a few moments later after the muffled voice came back through the radio.

"Did you leave it in a specific room, maybe?" Kirishima asked suddenly. "Or in the bathroom?"

"Dunno. Maybe."

"What room were you in?" asked the woman.

"...209," Bakugou mumbled.

"Alright. I'll have them check." The receptionist went back to her radio and Kirishima turned back to Bakugou.

"You visiting somebody here?" he asked. "Maybe we could go look ourselves. Or you could go, since I'm practically a stranger," he said with the huff of a laugh.

"Visiting hours are over," the blonde said, continuing to stare down the desk in front of them. "They won't let us back there anyway."

"Oh. Good point."

Quiet fell between them again as they waited for a response through the woman's radio. Kirishima couldn't help noticing how a couple of the studs in Bakugou's lips were being tugged at from the inside like a way of fidgeting while his hands were stuffed into his pockets.

A voice broke through the radio then, saying, "Yeah, we're not finding anything here, either."

"I'm sorry, boys," the receptionist said. "We'll definitely keep an eye out for you. Here—how 'bout you give me your information and we'll call and let you know if we find it, okay?" She shuffled through a few things under the desk before supplying Bakugou with a small slip of paper and a pen. "Just leave your name and number and maybe a description of the wallet, okay?"

Bakugou's eyes narrowed in slight hesitation before he tugged his trembling hands from his pockets and reached up to scribble the information onto the slip. As the woman retrieved it, she sent them both a sympathetic smile.

"Sorry we couldn't help you, but good luck on your search. I hope you find it soon."

But Bakugou had barely heard her; he'd already pivoted around and was heading for the door.

"Ah, crap," Kirishima mumbled. "Sorry 'bout that, and thank you!" he called to her as he jogged to catch up to the blonde. The last glimpse he caught of the woman was a dumbfounded blink.

"Hey man, what gives? You didn't even thank her!"

"So what?" Bakugou muttered as he practically stormed down the sidewalk back the way they came, though on the opposite side of the street.

"She was just tryin' to help you," Kirishima huffed, sidling up with him again.

"Yeah. Whatever," Bakugou said, though somehow there wasn't any venom behind it the way there had been earlier. It was more of a distracted remark, and with the way he was headed down the sidewalk it seemed he had a destination in mind.

"Where're we going?" Kirishima asked.

"The stupid bus stop in case I fucking dropped it there like a dumbass."

"Oh, alright."

"...you can leave," the blonde grumbled. "I believe you didn't take it, alright?"

"Wait, really?"

"Yes. Why the fuck would you help me look for it if you fucking took it, shitty hair? I'll just find it myself."

"Well that was easy," Kirishima said, grinning. "But I'll help you keep looking, 'cause like I said—two sets of eyes is better than one."

Scarlet eyes shifted in Kirishima's direction. "You make no fucking sense," he said.

"What can I say? I like to help people. 'S in my nature. Plus, I'm already part of this, so I'm not gonna back out now. You're stuck with me 'til you find your wallet."

"Great," muttered the blonde.

Despite the sarcasm and the grumpy attitude, Bakugou wasn't telling Kirishima to fuck off as he had before, nor was he insisting Kirishima didn't help, and the redhead took that as a good sign.

"So who were you visiting at the hospital?" Kirishima asked, more trying to distract Bakugou than anything. "A relative?"

The blonde didn't answer right away, but when he did it was nothing more than a short "yeah."

"Your mom or someone?"

"...yeah."

"That sucks, man, I'm sorry. Is she okay, at least?"

"No," Bakugou snapped. "If she was fucking okay she wouldn't be in the goddamn hospital."

"Ah... right, sorry."

The rest of the walk was had in silence again; Kirishima merely followed Bakugou for a few blocks as they both kept their eyes out for the wallet until they reached the same bus stop Kirishima took every day after leaving the Starbucks. It was nothing more than a small, roofed structure about as long as a bus itself with an end to end bench beneath it. Only a few people were around, waiting.

Despite his shaking, Bakugou was quick to make a trip around the thing, glancing beneath the bench a few times and in any possible corner the wallet could've ended up. Kirishima followed, encircling a wider range in case it was swept off of the curb or into the grass behind the stop.

"Fuck," Bakugou hissed after a few minutes of searching.

"Did you drop it on the bus, maybe?" Kirishima asked.

"No fucking clue. Knowing my shitty luck, probably did. Dammit!" Bakugou growled, planting the toe of his boot into the side of the bench and causing the entire thing to shudder, prompting dirty looks from the few people around.

"Whoa, okay, just try and take a deep breath, alright?" Kirishima held his hands out. "We're gonna keep looking. D'you remember the number of the bus you rode earlier?"

"No! How the fuck would I remember that?!"

"Okay, okay! Can't really blame you there. Did you go anywhere else?"

"No," grumbled Bakugou; the shaking had found its way into his voice now, his eyes darting back and forth and his fists clenched in anger.

"How 'bout we ask them?" Kirishima suggested, nodding in the direction of the few people who, much like Kaminari back in the Starbucks, weren't exactly subtle about their staring, though it was no surprise with Bakugou's sudden outburst. "Yeah?"

"Fucking whatever," Bakugou snapped. "They probably won't know shit since I lost it so long ago."

"Can't hurt to try, right? Lemme just ask." Without waiting for an answer, Kirishima shuffled over to the closest of the three on the bench. "Excuse me, ma'am?" he asked with a friendly smile. "Have you seen a black leather wallet somewhere around here at all?"

"Sorry, no," said the woman without so much as looking up the book in her hands.

"'S cool, thanks anyway," he said before moving onto the other two who were sitting together. They glanced up at him immediately, having looked away upon seeing him approach.

"We don't want any," deadpanned the dark-haired guy who couldn't be any older than Kirishima himself. The girl beside him sent an elbow to his ribs and returned his smile.

"Are you looking for something?" she asked.

"Yeah, a wallet. It's black leather," Kirishima told her; he was beginning to wish he had a better description of said wallet. "My, uh, friend over there lost it and we were hoping you'd seen it somewhere?"

"Sorry, we haven't," she said.

"Ah, alright. Thanks, though," he said, turning around.

"I hope you find it soon," she called after him; he spared another smile and wave over his shoulder before making it back to Bakugou, who seemed to be having a staring contest with the sidewalk.

"No luck, man," Kirishima said regretfully.

"Like I fucking said," the blonde muttered. "Fuck."

"Are you sure you didn't leave it at home?"

"Yes, idiot. How the fuck would I have paid for the bus to get down here if I left it at home?"

"Fair enough. I kinda get the feeling you left it on the bus by accident, then."

"Yeah, and how the fuck does that help me now? I don't remember the fucking bus number and with the amount of shitty homeless people down here, some jackass must've run off with it."

"Hey, you don't know that! How 'bout we go to the police station? Maybe somebody actually turned it in, or at the very least we can report it missing."

Bakugou's jaw flexed and relaxed several times, the puffs of fog emitting from his nose quick and a little uneven in the cold air, but he said nothing.

"What do you say, man?" Kirishima coaxed, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the police station. "C'mon, the station's only a couple blocks away."

"...whatever," the blonde muttered. He took off without warning in the direction Kirishima had pointed, but the redhead easily caught up to him.

"Hey... are you sure you're alright?" Kirishima couldn't help asking as they waited at a crosswalk several yards down from the bus stop. "You're shakin' pretty bad..."

"I told you I'm fucking fine," the blonde hissed. "Get off my back, Shitty Hair."

Kirishima bit his tongue; Bakugou didn't look particularly 'fine'. Freaking out about a missing wallet was one thing, but this shaking was almost excessive. He couldn't help being glad he'd decided to tag along with the blonde, though, just in case.

The police station was relatively quiet when they arrived. Soft radio music was trailing out from a door behind the main desk and only one person sat in the row of chairs to the right of the door. A very bored looking policeman sitting behind the desk perked up the second they walked in.

"How can I help you boys?" he asked.

"We're looking for a wallet and we were hoping somebody turned it in," Kirishima explained after he stepped up to the counter, Bakugou a mere step or two behind him.

"Yeah, I think we've got a few that have turned up. Was there an ID in it?" asked the man.

"Yeah," Bakugou said, more to the desk than the man himself. "Name on it's Bakugou Katsuki."

"Alright, lemme check the back." With that, the man pivoted around and disappeared into the room the music was coming from.

"So what's your plan if they don't have it?" Bakugou muttered, eyes lifting to Kirishima's. "Since apparently I'm fucking stuck with you until I find it."

"We report it missing, and then we keep looking. And if we don't find it, I'll help you replace all the stuff in it that you lost."

The blonde huffed. "I still don't get why you wanna help me so bad. 'S not like I did anything to deserve it."

"Can't a guy just be nice?" Kirishima asked with a shrug and a smile.

"Not for nothing. But I don't have shit to give you, so there's nothing in it for you."

"That's not what I—"

At that second, the officer popped back out of the office with a worn, black leather wallet in hand. "Found it. Bakugou Katsuki, right?"

"Shit," Bakugou breathed out in a sigh of relief, taking the wallet as it was offered to him. "Yeah, this is it," he said. His eyes were wide, any remnants of the frown Kirishima had quickly been growing accustomed to completely gone in that instant.

"Thank you, sir," Kirishima said to the officer as Bakugou shuffled through his wallet.

"No prob. I think someone came in here with it a couple hours ago, said they found it at the bus station a couple blocks down. I'm glad they made the decision to turn it in instead of—"

"Fuck," Bakugou hissed under his breath. Two sets of eyes landed on him again as his shaking hands held the wallet open, his eyes—still wide—staring down into the empty slot used to hold cash. One look into it was all Kirishima needed to explain Bakugou's curse.

"They stole your money, didn't they?"

"...perhaps I spoke too soon," the officer said ruefully.

"How much are you missing?" Kirishima asked.

"Fifty," Bakugou muttered, his fingers snapping the wallet shut. "Shit."

"That's not so ba—" Kirishima began, but his sentence cut off as Bakugou stormed toward the door much the same way he had at the hospital, leaving a brush of cool, subtly cologne-scented air washing against Kirishima's face before he shoved the door open and stomped away. "Crap," he muttered. "Thanks again, officer!" he called to the policeman as he scrambled to follow the blonde.

By the time he got outside, Bakugou was already a dozen or so strides down the street, forcing Kirishima to run to catch up to him.

"Bakugou! Hey!" he yelled, taking hold of the other's shoulder as soon as he caught up.

"Leave me the fuck alone, Shit for Hair," the blonde growled, shrugging his hand off. "I don't need your goddamn help, okay?!"

"Bakugou, dude, calm down," Kirishima tried to reason. "It's just some money, okay? I'll—"

Bakugou skidded to a halt, whirling around to face the other, rage burning in his eyes. Rage and something else Kirishima couldn't fully place. "Just some fucking money I needed for—" His teeth came together with an audible snap; as soon as their gazes met, Bakugou was tearing his eyes away again.

"For what, man?"

"Fucking nothing. It doesn't fucking matter."

"Doesn't it? 'Cause obviously it does or you wouldn't be freaking out like this," Kirishima reasoned. "For what, Bakugou?"

"It was money for these bullshit prescriptions I need, okay?! Fucking happy?! And I don't have any other shit to pay for them with, so I'm fucking screwed," he yelled. "But I found my fucking wallet so you can get the fuck off my back now." Bakugou started to turn away again and instinctively Kirishima reached for his arm.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a second," he said, moving around to be directly in front of the blonde again. "It was for medicine you need?"

"Is that not what I just fucking said, or do you have cotton in your ears?" Bakugou growled.

"You need it pretty bad, huh?"

"Yes, fuckface, I do. Any more shitty fucking questions to make me feel worse, or can I just go the fuck home already?"

"I'm not gonna let you go home without medicine you need, man," Kirishima said firmly. "I don't have any cash to give you, but I'll go with you to wherever you get it and I'll pay for it with my card, alright?"

For a second, Bakugou's shoulders slumped in relent. "I can't ask you to do that," he muttered, quieter now. "You already wasted half your shitty day on me as it is."

"You're not asking, Bakugou. All you're doing is taking me to your pharmacy or wherever it is you get this stuff from so you can get your medicine, alright? And I don't want you to feel bad about it or whatever, either."

"Why?" Bakugou deadpanned.

"Why shouldn't you feel bad?" mumbled the redhead, confused.

"No, why the fuck are you doing this, Hair for Brains? Why the fuck are you being so damn nice to me? You don't even know me."

"I know you now," Kirishima countered. "And for lots of reasons, the main one being that I won't be able to sleep tonight knowing there's somebody out there who needs something like medicine and didn't get it 'cause his money was stolen by some prick, and especially knowing there's something I coulda done about it, and especially knowing about your mom being in the hospital on top of all of this. Plus, I'd like to get to know you better anyway, and I figure this is a good way to start."

The blonde's eyes narrowed. "And what if I don't wanna get to know you better, huh? Or what if I don't want your stupid pity?"

"It's not pity, Bakugou. It's more like... compassion."

"Isn't that the same fucking thing?"

"...maybe. But I wanna help, okay? Even if you don't wanna be friends or whatever. I can just get out of your hair, but not until after you have the medicine you need."

The muscles of Bakugou's jaw rippled a few times beneath his skin, his eyes flicking back and forth between Kirishima's for a moment.

"...fine," he mumbled. "Since you're so goddamn stubborn about it."

An easy smile found its way onto Kirishima's face again as he released Bakugou's arm. "Let's go, then," he said, waving an arm out in the direction Bakugou had been storming off in.

"You're annoying," the blonde muttered as he started toward the bus stop.

Resting his hands in the pockets of his coat, Kirishima merely chuckled quietly. He was persistent—that much was for sure, and to someone like Bakugou it was no surprise that persistence and stubbornness was considered 'annoying', but he'd meant what he said. Even if Bakugou wanted nothing to do with him anymore once he had what he needed, he could at least feel good about doing something like this for someone. (And, though much less important, he did get to spend a few hours with the attractive blonde from the Starbucks, even if it didn't lead into anything.)

Kirishima was already growing acclimated to their virtually silent walks; neither of them spoke until they were seated at the bus stop.

"D'you use this stop every day?"

"Yeah," Bakugou said, "on days I go to the hospital."

"Man, then it's kinda weird that I didn't run into you sooner," he said, and then realizing the irony of his own words, scrambled to say, "Not literally, of course! I mean, 'cause I use this bus stop at least twice a day every day except on weekends for school."

"Guess my luck ran out, then," the blonde said.

"Heyy," Kirishima complained teasingly, gently bumping a shoulder into the other's. "C'mon, you really don't think I'm that bad, do you?"

One of the studs in Bakugou's lip rotated a few times. "...you could be worse, I guess."

"Fair enough," Kirishima replied. And it was, because it was a start, and he would take it because after accidentally clumsily running into Bakugou not once but twice, and in doing so making him think he'd stolen his wallet, he was doing pretty well, all things considered.

When the bus arrived, they boarded one after the other, Kirishima paying for their fares before finding seats beside each other near the middle of the vehicle. Just as the bus was beginning to pull forward, Kirishima slid his phone out to find an unread text from Kaminari.

You good, bro?

He took a second to respond, Yup, found the wallet & running a quick errand. No worries ✌

"Look, Stupid Hair," Bakugou grumbled as Kirishima was pocketing his phone again. The redhead looked over to find the blonde's gaze fixed out the window, the muscles in his jaw flexing and relaxing again. It was only then that Kirishima realized Bakugou's shaking had died down quite a bit and was localized just to the fists stuffed into his pockets.

"What's up, man?"

"'M sorry for accusing you of stealing my wallet, got it?" he said.

"It's okay, bro," Kirishima replied. "I mean, it gave me an excuse to talk to you again... after you stopped looking like you wanted to pummel my face in, anyway."

"Yeah. Sorry for that, too, I guess." And then, as if he just then realized what Kirishima said, his head whipped around, eyes narrow and almost accusing again. "Wait, the fuck? An excuse to talk to me?"

"Uh... yeah..." Kirishima absently rubbed at the back of his neck; this time he was the one to break eye contact.

"You saying you ran into me on purpose?" Bakugou surmised.

"Shit, no! No, I didn't," Kirishima defended. "Really, both times it was a complete accident. I swear I don't know how I got so clumsy and how you happened to be the victim both times. But now we're even, right?"

A huff escaped Bakugou's nose as he directed his attention back out to the passing world. "Hardly," he uttered in a voice so hushed that Kirishima might've missed the word had he not seen Bakugou's mouth form it. Still, he pretended not to hear it and managed to pull his eyes from the side of the blonde's face.

"We have to get off at the next stop," Bakugou said after a minute as the bus was lurching forward from the second stop since they boarded. By the time they made it, the sky was beginning to fade to the blue-gray that brought twilight, the last of the sun's rays quickly fading out. Street lights were slowly beginning to dot in one by one, as were the headlights of cars sweeping by. Kirishima led Bakugou off of the bus after thanking the driver and remained next to him as they waited at the crosswalk.

"I'm not making you late for shit, right?" Bakugou was asking suddenly.

"Nope."

"You don't have some homework you gotta do or something?"

"I do, but there's still time. Nothing's due tonight, anyway. And didn't I tell you not to feel bad?"

"I don't fucking feel bad," Bakugou spat back, but the remark lacked defensiveness. "So what dumb school do you go to, anyway?"

"'S just a community college for now," Kirishima explained as they stepped off the curb in unison. "It's cheaper, ya know?"

Bakugou shrugged. "You got a major or someshit?"

A somewhat giddy feeling bubbled up in Kirishima's stomach; he never imagined Bakugou would be the one to start a conversation, let alone one about school. "Yep, I'm an art major."

"Sounds nerdy."

Kirishima laughed. "You're definitely right about that," he said. "So what about you? You go to school?"

"No. Fuck that. Can't afford that shit, anyway."

"That's okay, man. You gotta take care of your mom and stuff, so I understand. But hey, if you did go, what would you major in?"

"I don't fucking know. The only thing I'm good at is video games."

"But what do you like? You don't have to be good at something to wanna major in it—that's why you go to school, to learn, you know? So you should pick something you're interested in."

"I don't know. Music's cool I guess, but I fucking suck at it so they'd probably kick me out."

"Nah, that's not how it works! D'you play anything? Or sing?"

"...I got a guitar for Christmas like five years ago."

"Yeah? Do you know anything?"

"Sorta. Some stuff."

"See? I bet you don't suck."

"Like you would fucking know," Bakugou muttered, rounding the corner. "We're here," he said, jerking his chin in the direction of the first door on the right. Sure enough, it was nothing more than a small grocery store with its own little pharmacy tucked into the corner. He held the door open for Kirishima to step in and then led the way over to said pharmacy.

A woman clad in a white coat behind the counter immediately waved him forward. "Evening, Bakugou. I've already got your things ready for you. You're here for the fluoxetine and high dosage acetaminophen refills, correct?"

"Yeah," Bakugou mumbled.

"Here you are," she said, sliding a white paper bag across the counter, the sound of pills rattling inside. "Your total is $42.67," she said.

Smoothly, Kirishima held out his card, grinning at the woman. She didn't question them as she ran the card, printed the receipt, and handed both back to Kirishima who scribbled a signature on one and slid it back in her direction.

"Have a nice day, boys," she said.

"You need anything else while we're here?" Kirishima asked as they wandered away from the pharmacy.

"No."

"Ya sure?"

"Yes, Dumb Hair, I'm sure."

"Alright. Are you going back to the bus stop? I usually get off one stop back from here, so that's where I'm headed."

"Yeah, but I gotta go further north," Bakugou told him as they exited the grocery store and headed back in the direction they'd come.

"Oh, alright. We can still walk back together, then." Just as Kirishima was about to head around the corner again, Bakugou stopped, causing him to skid to a halt and turn around. "You good, man?"

Again Bakugou's jaw was doing that rippling thing as he stared down the street. "Look, I fucking suck at manners and shit, but you're not the shitty, clumsy asshole I figured you were when you smacked into me like an idiot," he said, stiff.

"Well it's good to hear you think so," Kirishima responded, another easy smile settling into his features.

"I still don't get why the fuck you did all of this crap for a random stranger who almost did pummel your stupid face in a couple times, though."

"I told you—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what you fucking told me," Bakugou said, waving him off as he started walking again. "You can explain it to me a hundred fucking times and I'm still not gonna get it, 'cause it's not something I'd do. But whatever, that's not what I'm trying to say here."

"Then what are you trying to say?"

The blonde huffed again, his teeth clenching together. "Never mind. Fucking forget it."

"You sure?"

"No. I don't know. Shut up."

There was nothing more than a breathy chuckle from Kirishima between then and when they reached the bus stop again. At that point, the sun had set and the sidewalks were considerably more empty than they had been when the two were running around in search of Bakugou's wallet. The surrounding air had cooled off nearly to the point of freezing; Kirishima could feel that cold slowly starting to seep into his fingers, ears, and the tip of his nose.

"So since I'm heading back the other way I have to go across the street and wait over there," he said, following Bakugou under the halo of light from the street lamp on the corner.

Bakugou's eyes flicked across the street and then back to Kirishima, the light above them catching the red of his eyes in an odd way, and it was in that moment that the redhead realized just how damn tired Bakugou looked. Or perhaps it was the way his eyeliner was smudged more than it had been earlier, but the difference was noticeable.

"Will I see ya around, maybe?" Kirishima asked.

"Yeah, since I'll be paying you back when I have the money. You're at that Starbucks a lot, right?" he asked, jerking his chin to the left.

Kirishima's face fell. "What?" He withdrew his hands from his pockets. "No... no, no, no, you're not paying me back. That wasn't part of the deal," he stated firmly.

Bakugou's brow folded into a hard frown—the same one Kirishima recognized from the times he'd accidentally smacked into him. "I don't give a fuck. I'm paying you back whether you like it or not."

"No," Kirishima protested, holding up his hands. "No. I won't accept your money. That's not happening."

"Yes it fucking is, Dumb Hair!" Bakugou's voice rose to a shout, his own hands curling into fists.

Kirishima held firm. "Nope."

"Why the fuck not?!"

"Because it wasn't part of the deal, man. I don't want your money," the redhead said, matter-of-fact. "I am at that Starbucks several times a week, but if you're gonna come, come to hang out, not to give me money or anything, okay? And only if you want to."

Bakugou's weight shifted to his heels, his eyes flicking all over Kirishima's face. "What the fuck? You do all this shit and you don't even want me to fucking pay you back? The fuck kind of person are you?"

Kirishima's shoulders lifted in a casual shrug. "Just a college student who likes helping people," he said. "And for the record, it'd be awesome if you came. Meaning, I want you to, but if you decide not to, no hard feelings."

Those tired, eyeliner-smudged eyes narrowed. "You're fucking weird, Kirishima."

Another laugh escaped Kirishima's throat. "So I've been told, man. But I mean it, okay? And if you decide not to come..." He stuck his right hand out in Bakugou's direction. "It was super nice to meet you, and I hope your mom gets better real soon."

The hesitation was apparent in the way Bakugou's eyes flicked down to Kirishima's hand and then back to his face, but in the end he removed his hand from his pocket to slide against the redhead's and shake despite his freezing fingers. His eyes cut to the left when he said, "...thanks, I guess."

Kirishima's smile remained plastered into his face as he backed up toward the cross walk. "I'll see ya around, okay, Bakugou?" he called. "Have a nice night, dude!"

As he had earlier that day, Bakugou merely threw up a half-assed peace sign. It was the last Kirishima saw of him before he turned to jog across the street, making it just before the end of the light signal. He made it to the bus stop opposite from the one he'd left the blonde at just as the bus was squealing to a halt at the curb. Even as he paid his fare and found a place to stand in the center aisle, his smile held strong.

He would see Bakugou again—that much he could almost say for sure—and he'd known it the second he realized the other remembered his name.

---

Comments and votes are always appreciated! ♥