Chapter Text
Several hours later, the room was finally returning to something resembling its normal state, with Kaminari sprawled halfway into the hallway complaining about being hungry again despite having eaten enough snacks to sustain a small country while Shoto stood beside him still holding an unopened soda he had somehow forgotten belonged to him.
Bakugo had already thrown himself backward across the bed and started scrolling through his phone.
“Get out.”
Kaminari put a hand to his chest. “After everything we shared today?”
You ate my fucking chips.”
“You said you didn’t want them.”
“I said stop touching my shit.”
“Same energy.”
“Leave.”
Shoto nodded once. “Goodnight.”
“It’s seven.”
“Then goodbye.”
Bakugo waved him off without looking.
Kaminari turned toward Kirishima. “You coming?”
Kirishima had already moved halfway toward the door before stopping. “Nah. I left something inside.”
Kaminari looked around the room. “What?”
“Don’t remember.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Just go.”
Kaminari shrugged. “Your funeral.”
Shoto glanced toward Bakugo. “Statistically unlikely.”
“Thank you, Todoroki.”
“You’re welcome.”
Kaminari grabbed Shoto by the sleeve and dragged him down the corridor, and Kirishima waited until their footsteps faded before stepping back inside and closing the door behind him.
Bakugo looked up from his phone. “What the fuck are you still doing here?”
Kirishima leaned against the door for a second, then grinned.
“So…”
Bakugo’s eyes narrowed.
Kirishima’s grin widened. “Who was it?”
Bakugo stared at him. “The fuck does that mean?”
Kirishima crossed his arms. “You had sex with someone.”
Bakugo went pale so quickly Kirishima almost missed it, the color draining out beneath his usual irritated expression while every muscle in his body tightened at once, and although Kirishima’s grin faltered slightly at the reaction, Bakugo had already recovered enough to snap before he could ask about it.
“No, I fucking didn’t.”
Kirishima blinked. “Dude.”
Bakugo returned his attention aggressively to his phone.
Kirishima stared at him for another moment. “There’s literally a condom in your trash.”
Bakugo’s thumb stopped moving across the screen.
The silence that followed told Kirishima almost as much as the condom had.
Kirishima raised an eyebrow.
Bakugo looked up very slowly, the glare he gave him intense enough that it could have killed weaker men. “It was no one.”
Kirishima’s grin returned automatically. “No one?”
“Yeah.”
“You had sex with No One?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Is that her hero name?”
“I’ll kill you.”
Kirishima laughed and moved farther into the room, expecting Bakugo either to tell him eventually or threaten him until the conversation became funny enough to abandon, but the longer he looked at him the more obvious it became that something was genuinely off, because Bakugo was tense in a way that had very little to do with irritation and everything to do with nerves, his free hand already gripping the hem of his shirt and twisting the fabric between his fingers while he stared at the phone without actually reading anything on it.
Kirishima noticed.
And misunderstood completely.
His smile slowly faded. “Oh.”
Bakugo glanced up. “What.”
Kirishima hesitated before frowning. “It was Mina, wasn’t it?”
Bakugo’s entire face changed. “What the fuck?”
Kirishima lifted both hands. “Hey, okay—”
“No!”
“Bakugo—”
“What kind of dumbass fucking conclusion is that?”
Kirishima studied him.
Bakugo sat up straighter. “It wasn’t fucking Mina.”
Kirishima exhaled and leaned back slightly, his expression shifting into something much more serious. “You can tell me.”
Bakugo stared at him.
“I promise I won’t get mad.”
That somehow made Bakugo angrier. “I just told you it wasn’t her, dumbass!”
“I heard you.”
“Then why the fuck are you still doing this?”
“Because you’re acting weird!”
“I’m always fucking weird according to you idiots!”
“Not like this.”
Bakugo’s jaw tightened.
Kirishima crossed his arms again, though there was no teasing in the gesture anymore. “Who was it?”
“No one.”
“Dude.”
“Drop it.”
“Why?”
“Because I fucking said so!”
Kirishima’s eyebrows drew together. “Why don’t you wanna tell me?”
Bakugo looked away, and something in Kirishima’s chest tightened at the refusal.
“Seriously?”
Bakugo’s fingers twisted the shirt harder.
Kirishima stared at him for another moment, then snapped, more hurt than angry, “I’m your best friend, man.”
Bakugo flinched almost imperceptibly.
Kirishima saw it, and most of his frustration drained immediately as he rubbed the back of his neck and tried again with a softer voice.
“Look. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
Bakugo said nothing.
“I mean that.”
Still nothing.
Kirishima shifted his weight and looked down briefly before continuing. “It’s just… you’ve been weird lately.”
Bakugo scoffed.
“More weird.”
“Fuck you.”
Kirishima ignored it, because the more he thought about the previous couple of months the more pieces seemed to exist without any explanation attached to them. “I’m not trying to interrogate you.” He paused. “I just wanna understand what’s going on.”
That silence lasted much longer.
Bakugo stared down at his phone, locked it, unlocked it and then locked it again, but the screen had become completely irrelevant because until that moment this had technically only been a conversation about the condom, about somebody he had fucked and a secret Kirishima wanted access to, whereas the second Bakugo decided to answer honestly it became something else entirely.
He would have to say it.
Not only Deku.
That part was terrifying enough.
Once Kirishima understood that Deku was not some bizarre one-time exception Bakugo could dismiss, the rest would follow, and Bakugo could already feel his breathing becoming slightly too shallow at the realization that he was sitting here actively considering coming out to someone.
Coming out.
Actually fucking doing it.
Voluntarily.
The phrase alone made his stomach twist.
He had never imagined having this conversation with Kirishima or with anybody else for that matter, and despite everything Deku had told him, despite knowing rationally that Kirishima was probably the safest person he could possibly choose and despite having spent years watching the idiot defend people without a second thought whenever somebody else gave them shit, there was still something deep inside Bakugo screaming at him to shut up, lie, kick Kirishima out and keep this part of himself exactly where it had been.
His grip on his shirt tightened.
Then he thought about Deku, about telling him last night that nobody else knew and about the simple, inconvenient fact that Kirishima really was his best friend and had been since they were ten.
Fuck.
Bakugo exhaled through his nose and dropped the phone beside him. “I’ll tell you.”
Kirishima straightened slightly.
Bakugo’s eyes snapped toward him. “But it doesn’t leave this fucking room.”
Kirishima laughed automatically. “Dude, relax, I’m not gonna make a press release—”
Bakugo’s expression stopped him.
The laugh disappeared as Kirishima looked at him properly and finally realized that Bakugo was not exaggerating even slightly, because his shoulders were rigid, his jaw locked and the shirt in his fingers twisted so tightly that the fabric had started bunching around his knuckles.
“Okay,” Kirishima said.
Bakugo kept staring.
“I won’t tell anyone.”
Bakugo’s fingers loosened by a fraction, and Kirishima moved away from the door and sat down on the desk chair, deliberately giving him space while Bakugo looked toward the floor, then the wall, then his own hands, clearly searching everywhere in the room except Kirishima’s face.
Kirishima waited.
A minute passed, maybe more, and Bakugo opened his mouth once only to close it again, pulse beating too hard in his throat while the ridiculousness of the whole thing made him angry because this was Kirishima, fucking Kirishima, the same dumbass who had seen him half-dead after training, furious after losing, sick, exhausted and crying exactly once while both of them pretended it had not happened, and somehow telling him this still felt more exposing than any of that.
Eventually Bakugo muttered, “It was Deku.”
Kirishima stared.
Bakugo did not look up.
Silence.
Then Kirishima burst out laughing.
Bakugo’s head snapped toward him, and for one extremely dangerous second homicide became a genuine possibility while Kirishima bent forward with one hand over his mouth.
“Dude—”
Bakugo’s eyes could have incinerated him.
Kirishima looked up.
Saw his face.
Stopped instantly.
The laughter vanished so abruptly it was almost awkward, because Bakugo was pale again and visibly nervous in a way Kirishima had almost never seen him, and suddenly none of this looked remotely like a joke.
“Holy shit.”
Bakugo looked away.
“You’re serious?”
Bakugo’s jaw tightened.
Kirishima stared at him. “Midoriya?”
“Do I need to fucking spell it?”
“No, I just—” Kirishima sat back slowly. “Holy shit.”
Bakugo’s eye twitched. “Stop fucking saying that.”
“Sorry.”
Kirishima rubbed both hands over his face because his brain was moving far too quickly now, bouncing between Bakugo, Midoriya, sex and the deeply surreal realization that Bakugo and Midoriya had apparently been doing something long enough that sex had occurred, before the more fundamental implication finally crashed into place and made him lower his hands very slowly.
Bakugo liked guys.
Kirishima stared at him for several seconds longer than he meant to.
Bakugo noticed immediately, and his shoulders tightened.
“Oh,” Kirishima said eventually.
Bakugo’s glare sharpened.
“No, not bad ‘oh.’ Just—” Kirishima stopped, rubbed the back of his neck and tried again. “I genuinely never thought you were into guys.”
Bakugo gave a short, humorless scoff. “Yeah. No shit.”
Kirishima blinked.
There was something in the answer that made his surprise deepen rather than disappear, because Bakugo did not sound remotely amused by the fact that he had hidden it well.
“You didn’t think I’d judge you, did you?”
Bakugo’s fingers stopped.
Kirishima immediately felt a small sting of hurt. “Seriously?”
Bakugo looked down.
“I mean, you know I wouldn’t care if you liked guys, right?”
Bakugo’s shoulders tightened.
Kirishima leaned forward slightly. “Bakugo.”
“I know.”
The answer was quiet enough that Kirishima almost missed it.
Kirishima’s expression softened. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”
Bakugo’s mouth tightened.
“Because I’m not…”
He stopped.
Kirishima waited, watching Bakugo look visibly furious at the existence of language itself before he finally forced the rest out.
“…comfortable with it yet.”
Kirishima blinked. “With Midoriya?”
Bakugo’s head snapped up. “No.”
“Oh.”
Kirishima thought for a second, then asked much more carefully, “With liking guys?”
Bakugo looked away again.
That was answer enough.
Kirishima’s eyebrows pulled together, but he did not immediately push, allowing several seconds to pass while Bakugo’s fingers started rubbing restlessly together in his lap.
Eventually Kirishima asked, “Are you bi?”
Bakugo’s expression twisted. “No.”
Kirishima waited.
Bakugo looked like saying the next word physically hurt, and the awareness of that only made him hate the entire conversation more, because this was the first time he had ever said it aloud to anyone except Deku and somehow the word still felt like a confession rather than a fact.
“I’m gay.”
Kirishima did not say anything at first.
A beat passed.
Then another.
Bakugo’s pulse climbed harder with every second Kirishima remained silent.
“Gay?” Kirishima repeated eventually, surprise written openly across his face.
Bakugo’s glare sharpened instantly. “That’s what I fucking said.”
“No, yeah, I heard you, I just…” Kirishima ran one hand through his hair, still looking genuinely stunned. “You’re gay.”
“Fantastic listening skills.”
“I’m sorry, man, I’m just trying to rearrange my entire understanding of you.”
Bakugo’s expression darkened. “Why the fuck would that rearrange anything?”
Kirishima caught the immediate defensiveness and shook his head quickly. “Not like that. I mean I literally thought you liked girls.”
Bakugo scoffed.
Kirishima rubbed his eyebrow. “But… What about the girl? The blonde one.”
Bakugo froze.
Kirishima’s mouth began twitching as realization dawned onto him. “Oh my God.”
“Shut up.”
“Tall, blonde, super strong—”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Big tits, tiny waist—”
“I WILL KILL YOU.”
Kirishima doubled over laughing while Bakugo grabbed a pillow and threw it at his head, which Kirishima caught against his chest without managing to stop.
“You made her up!”
“I SAID SHUT UP!”
“You made up your dream woman because you didn’t have one!”
Bakugo’s face had gone completely red.
Kirishima was crying now. “That is the funniest thing you’ve ever done.”
“I’m taking the secret back.”
“You can’t take coming out back!”
“Watch me.”
The sentence came out immediately, but hearing the words coming out spoken by someone else made something inside Bakugo seize badly enough that the humor vanished from his own expression, because Kirishima was right, annoyingly and horrifyingly right: that was what this was.
He had come out to him.
He had actually fucking done it.
Kirishima had gone from not knowing to knowing, and there was no way to put that information back into Bakugo’s mouth now that it existed between them.
Kirishima did not notice the shift immediately because he was still laughing, but after another few seconds he finally managed to get himself under control, still clutching the pillow Bakugo had thrown at him before looking properly at him again.
“Okay, okay.”
Bakugo glared.
“I’m done.”
“You better be.”
Kirishima’s mouth twitched, but this time he managed not to laugh again because the longer he watched Bakugo the more obvious it became that the situation had stopped being funny for him several minutes ago.
Bakugo’s fingers were moving constantly now, thumb scraping repeatedly over the side of one index finger before switching hands, fingertips pressing together hard enough that the joints paled before separating and starting all over again, and although his breathing was not fast enough to be dramatic, it was uneven enough that Kirishima could hear the occasional breath pulled slightly too deep, as though Bakugo were consciously correcting the shallower ones that came before it.
Kirishima’s smile disappeared.
“Hey.”
Bakugo’s gaze snapped toward him.
Kirishima nodded toward his hands. “You okay?”
Bakugo immediately shoved them flat against his thighs. “I’m fucking fine.”
“Yeah, except you look like you’re trying not to crawl out of your own skin.”
Bakugo’s eyes narrowed.
Kirishima hesitated, because this was suddenly much more serious than he had expected when he decided to ask about the condom, and after several seconds he settled on the one comparison that seemed obvious to him.
“With Denki and Shoto we’ve always talked about girls.” Kirishima leaned forward, forearms resting loosely against his knees. “This is the same, there’s no difference.”
Bakugo’s expression hardened almost immediately.
“It is different though.”
Kirishima frowned. “Why?”
Bakugo stared at him like the question itself were stupid.
“Because it fucking is.”
“That doesn’t tell me anything.”
Bakugo looked away.
Kirishima waited for a few seconds before trying again. “Why would talking about Midoriya with us be different from me talking about Mina?”
Bakugo’s fingers curled against his thighs.
“Because he’s a guy.”
Kirishima blinked. “I mean, yeah. He is.”
Bakugo’s jaw tightened at the tone.
“And?”
Bakugo’s head snapped toward him. “And I’m a fucking guy.”
Kirishima stared.
Bakugo looked back at him with an expression that made it obvious he considered the explanation complete, because somewhere inside his own head it genuinely was: Deku was a guy, Bakugo was a guy, therefore whatever existed between them automatically belonged in an entirely different category than Kirishima liking Mina or Kaminari drooling over girls or Shoto quietly talking about Momo.
Kirishima, unfortunately, did not follow. “So?”
Bakugo’s face changed.
Not much.
Just enough.
His brows pulled together, and the confusion under the anger was almost worse than if he had immediately snapped.
“What the fuck do you mean, so?”
“I mean, yeah. You’re both guys.” Kirishima shrugged carefully. “Why does that make it different?”
Bakugo stared at him in disbelief.
Kirishima watched his fingers start moving again.
“Because it does.”
“Okay, but why?”
“I just fucking told you.”
“No, you told me you’re both guys.”
“Exactly.”
Kirishima’s eyebrows drew together. “That still doesn’t explain why talking about him is different.”
Bakugo’s breathing shifted.
“Kirishima.”
“I’m not trying to piss you off.”
“You’re succeeding.”
“I’m trying to understand.”
Bakugo scoffed and looked away, his fingers rubbing harder together now as if the friction might somehow produce an answer that did not require him to admit the actual problem.
Kirishima watched him for several seconds, then said, more slowly, “If you told me some guy was hot, why would that be worse than me saying Mina’s hot?”
Bakugo’s shoulders went rigid.
“I wouldn’t fucking say that.”
“Okay. If you told me Midoriya looked good, then.”
“I wouldn’t fucking say that either.”
“Why?”
“Because I wouldn’t.”
Kirishima exhaled through his nose, not frustrated exactly but increasingly aware that every answer was circling something Bakugo did not want to name. “If you complained about him talking too much, or told us you kissed him, or whatever—why does the fact that he’s a guy change it?”
Bakugo’s jaw tightened so hard a muscle jumped in his cheek.
“Because it fucking does.”
“Only because you think it does.”
Bakugo’s eyes flashed. “Yeah, well, I fucking do.”
Kirishima stopped.
For a moment neither said anything.
Bakugo’s fingers were moving so hard now that one thumbnail had begun digging into the side of another finger, and Kirishima finally understood that this was not Bakugo being stubborn for the sake of being stubborn.
He genuinely could not get over the difference, could not flatten Deku is a guy and I’m a guy into the same category as the heterosexual relationships surrounding him because some part of him treated those facts like proof that something had gone fundamentally wrong.
Kirishima’s stomach sank.
“Does it bother you that much?”
Bakugo’s eyes snapped toward him.
The answer arrived in his face before it reached his mouth.
Kirishima saw it.
Bakugo saw Kirishima see it.
That made everything worse.
“Drop it.”
Kirishima did not.
“Bakugo.”
“I said drop it.”
“You look like you’re about to have a fucking panic attack because you told me you’re gay.”
Bakugo’s nostrils flared. “I’m not having a panic attack.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“Then stop fucking acting like I am.”
Kirishima leaned back slightly, giving him more physical space even while refusing to abandon the conversation. “Okay. But you’re freaking out.”
Bakugo looked away.
No denial came.
That worried him more than one would have.
“Is it because you think I’m gonna see you differently?”
Bakugo’s mouth tightened. “I don’t fucking know.”
“Do you think Denki would?”
A scoff. “Sparky would ask me twenty questions about dick within thirty seconds.”
Despite himself, Kirishima laughed. “Yeah, okay, he definitely would.”
“And IcyHot would say some weird fucking shit.”
“He’d probably ask if this changes your nutritional needs.”
A startled laugh escaped Bakugo before he could stop it, short and rough, and for a second some of the pressure in the room loosened.
Then Bakugo’s expression closed again.
Kirishima watched him carefully. “So it’s not really about us.”
Bakugo looked toward the wall. “No.”
The word came out so quietly Kirishima almost missed it.
Something in his chest tightened.
“It’s you, isn’t it?”
Bakugo’s breathing hitched.
Kirishima wished immediately that he had phrased it differently, because Bakugo’s entire posture went rigid, but before he could take it back Bakugo spoke.
“It’s fucking different because it is, okay?”
His voice had risen, not quite yelling but close.
“I’m a guy. He’s a guy. I’m fucking gay. That’s not the same as you liking Mina.”
“Why?”
Bakugo looked furious. “Because I’m not supposed to—”
He stopped.
Kirishima went completely still.
Bakugo did too.
The unfinished sentence sat between them like something that had slipped out from under a locked door.
Kirishima’s voice softened. “Not supposed to what?”
Bakugo stared at the floor.
“Bakugo.”
“Nothing.”
“You were gonna say something.”
“I changed my fucking mind.”
Kirishima watched him, and the more Bakugo refused to finish the sentence, the more obvious its shape became anyway.
Not supposed to like guys.
Not supposed to want Midoriya.
Not supposed to be gay.
Kirishima suddenly understood that not comfortable with it yet had been an almost absurdly gentle description of whatever was actually happening inside Bakugo’s head.
“Man…”
Bakugo’s head snapped toward him. “Stop it.”
There was enough genuine distress in the word that Kirishima stopped immediately.
Bakugo dragged both hands over his face, pressing them hard against his eyes for several seconds before dropping them again, breathing unevenly now despite every attempt to keep it hidden.
“I fucking know what you’re gonna say.”
Kirishima stayed quiet.
Bakugo laughed once without humor. “Deku’s already said it.”
“Then he’s probably right.”
“Fuck you.”
“I haven’t even said it yet.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Kirishima exhaled and leaned back, studying him for a moment before asking, “Do you think I’m different for liking Mina?”
Bakugo frowned. “She’s a girl. Of course not.”
“Okay. So do you think Midoriya’s different for liking guys?”
The answer came almost immediately. “No.”
“Do you think less of him?”
“No.”
“Then why the hell does it suddenly become different when it’s you?”
Bakugo’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Kirishima watched the struggle move across his face.
Bakugo knew how fucking ridiculous it sounded when somebody else laid it out like that.
He knew he did not look at Deku and see something wrong, knew he had never once kissed him and thought he shouldn’t want men, knew that when Deku said he was gay Bakugo’s response had practically been big fucking deal.
But himself—
That was different.
It simply was.
Because he had spent his entire life thinking of himself one way and then suddenly there was this thing attached to him that did not fit, something he had not chosen and could not control and still could not stop associating with every insult he had thrown around when he was younger, every stupid rule about what strength and masculinity were supposed to look like, every imagined headline reducing him to something he did not want to be defined by.
His stomach twisted.
“I don’t fucking know,” he finally muttered.
Kirishima’s expression softened.
Bakugo hated that immediately.
“I just don’t.”
Kirishima stayed quiet.
Bakugo stared at his own hands.
“I know it’s not the same with Deku.”
Kirishima frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think there’s something fucking wrong with him.”
Kirishima’s chest tightened. “But you think there’s something wrong with you.”
Silence.
Bakugo did not answer.
He did not need to.
Kirishima felt something cold settle in his stomach.
“Bakugo…”
“Drop it already.”
This time Kirishima almost did.
Almost.
Then he looked at the way Bakugo’s fingers were trembling faintly against his thighs and realized that if he let that silence stand completely uncontested, Bakugo might hear agreement in it.
So Kirishima shook his head. “I’m not gonna sit here and tell you that makes sense.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“I know.”
“Then shut up.”
“No.”
Bakugo’s eyes narrowed.
Kirishima leaned forward again, not smiling now. “If Midoriya being gay doesn’t make him weak, or fucked up, or whatever the hell you think about yourself, then you don’t magically become those things because you’re gay too.”
Bakugo’s jaw tightened.
“You don’t get to make one rule for him and another one for yourself just because you hate yourself more.”
The second the sentence left Kirishima’s mouth, both of them froze.
Bakugo’s face went blank.
Kirishima’s stomach dropped.
He had not meant to say it that bluntly.
But Bakugo did not deny it.
That was worse.
For several seconds there was nothing except the low hum of the console still idling near the television.
Then Bakugo looked away. “Whatever.”
Kirishima stared at him.
That was not whatever.
Not remotely.
But he also knew pushing harder now would only make Bakugo regret having told him anything at all, so he swallowed whatever else he wanted to say and settled for the only thing he thought Bakugo might actually tolerate.
“It’s not different to me.”
Bakugo’s mouth tightened.
Kirishima continued before he could dismiss it. “You can think it’s different all you want right now. I’m telling you how it is for me.”
Bakugo looked toward him.
“Us four have always talked about girls. If someday you wanna talk about Midoriya, I’m not gonna suddenly act like we’re discussing some completely different species.”
Bakugo snorted faintly.
“That was a shit comparison.”
“You know what I mean.”
Bakugo stared down at his hands for another moment, breathing gradually evening out now that Kirishima had stopped trying to pry open whatever sat underneath all of this.
Eventually he muttered, “Yeah.”
The room stayed quiet for a little while longer, long enough for Bakugo’s fingers to finally stop grinding against each other and for some of the rigid tension across his shoulders to ease, and only when Kirishima was reasonably sure that another question would not send him straight back into panic did his curiosity begin crawling out from wherever basic empathy had temporarily forced it to hide.
“So how long has this been going on?”
Bakugo’s expression immediately became guarded again.
“With Deku.”
“I know what you meant.”
“And?”
Bakugo sighed. “Couple months.”
Kirishima’s eyes widened. “Months?”
Bakugo glared.
“You’ve been secretly dating Midoriya for months?”
“We weren’t dating.”
Kirishima tilted his head. “So what were you doing?”
“None of your fucking business.”
Kirishima’s eyebrows rose, and then slowly his expression shifted as the obvious answer supplied itself.
“Oh.”
Bakugo’s glare sharpened.
Kirishima started grinning. “You were hooking up.”
“I hate you.”
“You were!”
“Shut up.”
“For months?”
“Do you wanna die?”
Kirishima laughed. “When did you actually start dating?”
“Last night.”
Kirishima stopped, his eyes widening before his gaze flicked very deliberately toward the trashcan.
Bakugo noticed, and his entire face darkened.
“Don’t say anything.”
Kirishima’s grin became enormous. “No way.”
Bakugo reached for another pillow.
Kirishima lifted both hands. “Wait, wait, wait. You became boyfriends and lost your virginity on the same night?”
Bakugo threw the pillow.
Kirishima ducked. “Oh my God!”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
“That’s so romantic!”
“I’ll fucking kill you!”
“That is ridiculously romantic!”
“It was not romantic!”
“You literally made it official and then had sex!”
“Why are you like this?!”
Kirishima was laughing again while Bakugo looked genuinely murderous, and by the time Kirishima finally managed to breathe, his curiosity had already clearly reached a level that promised absolutely nothing good.
“So.”
Bakugo pointed at him immediately. “Whatever you’re about to ask, no.”
“I haven’t asked yet.”
“No.”
“Did you—”
“No.”
“Was it—”
“No.”
“Who—”
“Finish that sentence and die.”
Kirishima burst out laughing again. “Dude, relax!”
“You sound like Sparky.”
Kirishima stopped, his face falling in horror. “Take that back.”
“Absolutely not.”
“That’s cruel. I am nothing like Kaminari.”
“You’re asking me sex questions.”
“I asked one.”
“You tried to ask three.”
“That’s not the point.”
Bakugo smirked, and Kirishima shook his head while still smiling before his expression softened slightly.
“You happy?”
Bakugo’s smirk disappeared.
The question was simple, which somehow made it harder, and he looked down without answering immediately while Kirishima, having finally learned something during the last half hour, did not fill the silence for him.
After several seconds Bakugo shrugged one shoulder. “Tch. Yeah.”
Kirishima smiled.
Bakugo immediately glared at him.
Kirishima ignored him and leaned back in the chair again, considering everything. “Midoriya, though.”
Bakugo’s gaze sharpened. “What about him?”
“I’m just saying.” Kirishima grinned slightly. “You two have been obsessed with each other since I met you.”
Bakugo’s face twisted. “We have not.”
“Dude. You literally talk about him constantly.”
“I insult him constantly.”
“Still counts.”
“It absolutely does not.”
Kirishima laughed. “You know what’s funny?”
“No.”
“You’re actually kinda obvious now that I know.”
Bakugo went still.
Kirishima immediately realized that had been the wrong thing to say because Bakugo’s posture tightened again, all the earlier humor disappearing beneath something sharper.
Kirishima held up a hand. “Not obvious like everyone knows.”
Bakugo’s eyes stayed narrowed.
“I mean to me, looking backward.”
Bakugo did not relax.
Kirishima softened his voice. “Seriously. Kaminari and Todoroki definitely don't know..”
Bakugo scoffed faintly.
“And I only figured anything out because you left evidence in your trash.”
Bakugo looked toward the trashcan with immediate betrayal. “I’m fucking burning that thing.”
Kirishima laughed, and Bakugo’s shoulders finally loosened slightly.
Kirishima watched him for another moment before asking more carefully, “Does Midoriya know you’re not comfortable with… you know?”
Bakugo gave him a flat look. “He’s the only fucking person who knows.”
Kirishima’s smile faded. “Oh.”
Bakugo looked away.
Kirishima considered that answer for several seconds, and when he spoke again his voice was much gentler. “You know you don’t have to be weird about it with me, right?”
Bakugo’s jaw tightened.
“I’m not saying you have to talk about it.” Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck. “You clearly hate talking about literally everything.”
“Correct.”
“But if you ever wanna… I don’t know. Say something. You can.”
Bakugo said nothing.
Kirishima shrugged. “Or you can yell it.”
That earned the smallest snort.
“More realistic.”
“That’s obviously why I said it.”
They sat there quietly for a little while after that, the conversation finally settling into something less dangerous, and once Kirishima realized Bakugo was not going to spontaneously combust from having come out to exactly one additional person, his curiosity inevitably began creeping back in.
It started with a long look that Bakugo noticed almost immediately.
His expression soured. “No.”
Kirishima’s eyebrows climbed. “I didn’t even ask yet.”
“Your face is annoying.”
“That’s rude.”
“Leave.”
“One question.”
“You’ve said that approximately six fucking times.”
Kirishima grinned. “This one matters.”
“Nothing you’ve asked matters.”
Kirishima leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, looking far too entertained already. “Who topped?”
Bakugo’s entire body went still.
Kirishima’s grin widened.
Bakugo stared at him for several seconds before answering with absolute conviction, “Fuck off.”
Kirishima laughed. “Come on!”
“No way I’m telling you.”
“I’m just asking!”
“And I’m telling you to go fuck yourself.”
“Dude, I’m your best friend.”
“That argument has expired.”
“It doesn’t expire!”
“It fucking does when you start asking who put their dick where.”
Kirishima nearly choked. “I didn’t phrase it like that!”
“That’s what you want to know though.”
Kirishima covered his mouth for a second, fighting laughter, but curiosity won almost immediately. “Okay, okay, fine. No details.”
“There weren’t gonna be any.”
“Just who topped.”
“I said no.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s none of your fucking business.”
Kirishima leaned back dramatically. “You told me you’re gay.”
“Yeah.”
“You told me you’re dating Midoriya.”
“Unfortunately.”
“You told me you lost your virginity last night.”
“You fucking figured that out from my trash!”
“Still counts.”
“It does not.”
Kirishima pointed toward him. “So we’re already here.”
“No, you’re here. I’m trying to get you to leave.”
Kirishima’s grin widened as he studied him. “Was it you?”
Bakugo’s face did not move.
Kirishima narrowed his eyes. “Were you on top?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
Kirishima continued studying him, but the more he looked the more Bakugo regretted every involuntary reaction his face had ever learned, because he could practically see the gears turning inside Kirishima’s head.
He leaned forward, suddenly looking like somebody had just handed him classified information capable of changing his entire worldview. “Midoriya topped.”
Bakugo’s face went scarlet.
Kirishima slapped both hands over his mouth.
Bakugo pointed toward the door. “Get out.”
A muffled laugh escaped through Kirishima’s fingers.
“Get. The fuck. Out.”
Kirishima lowered his hands, eyes enormous. “Holy shit.”
“Kirishima.”
“Midoriya topped!”
“Lower your fucking voice!”
The urgency in Bakugo’s voice confirmed it so thoroughly that Kirishima’s entire expression transformed.
“NO WAY.”
Bakugo launched himself off the bed and grabbed the front of Kirishima’s shirt before he could get any louder. “I swear to fucking God, if somebody hears you—”
Kirishima was barely containing himself. “It was him?”
Bakugo glared.
“Dude, you have to answer now.”
“I absolutely fucking don’t.”
“Please, come on. Don’t be boring.”
“No.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
“That is not the fucking issue!”
“Then why won’t you say it?”
“Because I don’t want to have this conversation!”
“You already are!”
Bakugo shoved him back into the chair and stalked two steps away before turning around again while Kirishima followed him with his eyes, looking increasingly delighted by the fact that Bakugo had somehow managed to become more embarrassed than he had been while literally coming out.
“So it was.”
Bakugo said nothing.
Kirishima’s grin slowly returned. “Bakugo.”
Nothing.
“Kat.”
Bakugo’s head snapped toward him. “Don’t fucking call me that.”
Kirishima laughed. “Tell me.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“One word.”
“Die.”
“That’s technically one word but not the one I wanted.”
Bakugo looked toward the ceiling as though asking a higher power why he had been assigned this specific best friend.
Kirishima was practically vibrating. “Come on, man. You can’t tell me you and Midoriya had sex and then refuse to tell me which one of you—”
“Yes, I fucking can.”
“I’m going to think about this forever.”
“That sounds creepy.”
“I won’t sleep.”
“Good.”
“I’ll have to ask Midoriya.”
Bakugo’s head whipped toward him so fast Kirishima physically recoiled.
“You fucking won’t.”
Kirishima’s grin exploded. “That got you.”
“I’ll kill you.”
“So if I ask Midoriya—”
“You are not asking Deku shit.”
“Then tell me.”
Bakugo stared at him with genuine hatred while Kirishima stared right back, visibly delighted that he had finally discovered leverage powerful enough to overcome Bakugo’s stubbornness, and the silence stretched long enough for Bakugo’s jaw to start working again while his face remained red.
Eventually he looked away and muttered something too quietly to hear.
Kirishima leaned forward. “What?”
Bakugo’s eyes snapped toward him. “You fucking heard me.”
“I genuinely didn’t.”
Bakugo looked like he wanted to launch himself through the window.
Then, through clenched teeth, “It was Midoriya.”
Kirishima froze.
Completely.
Bakugo immediately regretted everything.
For perhaps three full seconds Kirishima only stared at him, mouth slightly open and brain apparently refusing to move past the sentence.
Then his eyes went enormous.
“Midoriya.”
Bakugo closed his eyes.
“Midoriya topped you.”
“Kirishima.”
“Midoriya.”
“Kirishima.”
“Like—our Midoriya?”
Bakugo opened his eyes again. “How many fucking Midoriyas do you know?”
Kirishima shot to his feet so abruptly the desk chair rolled backward and hit the wall, and Bakugo instinctively took a step away from him.
“Why are you standing?”
“I don’t know!”
“Sit the fuck down!”
“I need to process this!”
“What the fuck is there to process?!”
Kirishima put both hands on top of his head and paced once across the tiny available space in the room, looking genuinely overwhelmed by information that had absolutely no meaningful effect on his own life.
“Dude.”
Bakugo stared.
“Dude.”
“You say dude one more fucking time—”
“Midoriya topped you.”
Bakugo’s entire face flared red again. “YES, YOU’VE FUCKING ESTABLISHED THAT.”
Kirishima made a strangled noise and turned back toward him. “But Midoriya is tiny!”
Bakugo stared at him.
Kirishima spread both hands as if this were somehow a self-evident argument. “He’s like—he’s Midoriya-sized!”
“What the fuck is ‘Midoriya-sized’?!”
“He’s shorter than you!”
“Barely!”
“And he looks like he apologizes to furniture when he bumps into it!”
Bakugo’s mouth opened.
Closed.
Kirishima pointed at him in complete disbelief. “And he topped you?”
Bakugo’s jaw twitched. “Why are you acting like I got defeated in a fucking boss battle?”
“Because you’re you!”
“There it fucking is.”
“What?”
“The stupid personality-test bullshit!”
Kirishima blinked.
Bakugo threw both hands up. “Deku did the same fucking thing!”
Kirishima’s jaw dropped.
Then very slowly his expression became even more delighted. “Wait.”
Bakugo realized his mistake.
“Midoriya thought you’d top too?”
“Forget I said anything.”
“Oh my God.”
“Forget it.”
“He actually said that?”
“I hate my fucking life.”
Kirishima started laughing so hard he had to brace one hand against the desk while Bakugo watched him with the dead-eyed expression of somebody mentally calculating whether friendship legally reduced a murder charge.
“So what happened? Did he just look at you and go, ‘Hey, Kacchan, obviously you’re topping’?”
Bakugo’s silence lasted a fraction too long.
Kirishima’s voice dropped in delighted disbelief. “He did.”
“He did not say it like that.”
“Oh my God, he did.”
Bakugo grabbed another pillow.
Kirishima immediately backed up. “Wait! Wait, I’m done!”
“You’ve said that four fucking times.”
“I mean it now.”
“You never mean it.”
Kirishima was still grinning uncontrollably, and after another few seconds he shook his head as though the information had somehow failed to settle properly the first fifteen times.
“Seriously, though. Midoriya.”
Bakugo’s glare sharpened.
“He’s so fucking small.”
“He is not that fucking small!”
Kirishima’s eyebrows shot up.
Bakugo froze as he slowly realized how defensive he had sounded.
Kirishima’s grin became unbearable. “Oh, you’re defending his size now.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“That is boyfriend behavior.”
“I hate you.”
Kirishima was already laughing again. “No, but seriously, he’s shorter than you, he’s got that whole polite nerd thing going on, he looks like he’d ask permission before stealing a fry off your plate, and somehow you looked at that guy and went, yeah, sure, he can top me?”
“That is not how the fucking conversation went.”
“But he did. And—”
“I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU.”
Kirishima folded over the back of the chair laughing, and Bakugo stood there burning red from his ears down to his neck while seriously considering whether he could blast Kirishima through the wall without killing enough people to create paperwork.
It took Kirishima an embarrassingly long time to recover.
By the time he finally dropped back into the chair, wiping tears from beneath his eyes, Bakugo had returned to the edge of the bed and was glaring at the floor with both hands clenched between his knees.
“Okay,” Kirishima managed. “Okay. I’m actually done making fun of you.”
Bakugo looked at him with absolutely no faith in that claim.
Kirishima let several seconds pass before scratching awkwardly at his cheek. “Can I just ask something really stupid?”
Bakugo stared at him. “That sentence has never once ended well.”
“Probably not.”
“No.”
“I’m gonna ask anyway.”
“Of course you fucking are.”
Kirishima hesitated in a way he had not with the previous teasing questions, suddenly looking genuinely curious rather than amused. “What does it feel like?”
Bakugo frowned. “What does what feel like?”
Kirishima made a vague gesture and immediately became slightly embarrassed by his own question. “Like… having someone inside you.”
Bakugo stopped moving.
Kirishima realized within approximately half a second that this might finally have crossed whatever remained of the line.
“Okay, wow, that sounded way more personal out loud.”
Bakugo stared at him in complete disbelief.
“I can take it back.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“A lot, apparently.”
Bakugo dragged both hands over his face. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
Kirishima laughed at himself this time, raising his hands. “Forget it.”
Bakugo kept his palms pressed over his face for several seconds, and Kirishima genuinely prepared to let the question die before Bakugo muttered from behind them, “Weird.”
Kirishima blinked. He wasn’t really expecting him to answer.
Bakugo lowered his hands and immediately looked irritated that he had said anything at all.
“Weird?”
“Yeah.”
Kirishima waited without saying anything.
Bakugo glared harder, apparently annoyed by the fact that waiting was somehow more effective than questioning him, but after another moment he looked toward the wall and added, “At first.”
Kirishima nodded slowly.
Bakugo looked like he regretted every life decision that had led to this room, this friendship and this conversation. “It’s just… a lot of pressure.”
Kirishima’s eyebrows rose, but he remained quiet.
“And it fucking hurt at first,” Bakugo added, jaw tightening at the memory.
“But then it didn’t?”
Bakugo’s face warmed again. “Obviously.”
Kirishima looked fascinated.
Bakugo immediately pointed at him. “That is all you’re fucking getting.”
“Sure.”
“I mean it.”
“Okay!”
Kirishima leaned back and processed the answer with considerably less theatrical shock than the topping revelation, and after a moment he shrugged. “Honestly, I always wondered.”
Bakugo looked horrified. “Why?”
“Because people talk about it!”
“Who the fuck do you hang out with?”
“Lots of people. Well, whatever. At least now I know.”
“You know approximately nothing.”
“Still more than before.”
Bakugo groaned and dropped backward against the pillows.
Kirishima laughed softly.
Bakugo had barely recovered from Kirishima’s last invasive question when a thought occurred to him, and this time the shift in his expression was subtle enough that Kirishima did not notice immediately, mostly because he was still sitting there looking far too pleased with himself for someone who had spent the last hour interrogating his best friend about his sex life.
Bakugo’s mouth slowly curled.
Then, very casually, “So.”
Kirishima visibly braced himself.
Bakugo tilted his head. “Mina, huh?”
Kirishima froze.
The smirk on Bakugo’s face became vicious.
“Oh, fuck off.”
Bakugo barked out a laugh. “Nah, nah. We’re talking about this now.”
“We absolutely are not.”
“You’re the one who fucking brought her up.”
“Because you were acting weird!”
“And your first thought was, shit, Bakugo fucked Mina.”
Kirishima’s face had already started going red. “I didn’t know what the hell to think!”
Bakugo looked delighted now, which was probably the first time Kirishima had seen him genuinely enjoy any part of this conversation. “Sure.”
“I’m serious!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Dude, you were sitting there looking like I’d caught you burying a body, and I was trying to figure out why you wouldn’t tell me who it was!”
Bakugo snorted. “So naturally you decided I fucked the girl you’ve been drooling over for months.”
Kirishima’s entire face flared. “I do not drool over her.”
Bakugo raised one eyebrow.
Kirishima lasted approximately three seconds. “Shut up.”
Bakugo laughed again, louder this time, and Kirishima immediately grabbed the pillow he had been holding earlier and threw it at him.
Bakugo caught it one-handed. “You’re pathetic.”
“Fuck you.”
“You actually thought I hooked up with Raccoon Eyes.”
“Stop calling her that.”
Bakugo’s eyes lit up.
Kirishima realized his mistake too late.
“Oh?”
“Bakugo, shut up.”
Bakugo sat forward slightly, suddenly looking far too awake. “Stop calling her that?”
Kirishima’s ears went red.
“Bakugo.”
“That sounded protective.”
“It sounded normal.”
“Sounded fucking lovesick.”
“It did not!”
Bakugo was openly grinning now. “Holy shit.”
Kirishima pointed at him. “You do not get to make fun of me right now.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because I just spent the last hour finding out you’ve been secretly hooking up with Midoriya for months!”
“And?”
“And you got topped by him!”
Bakugo’s grin disappeared instantly.
Kirishima immediately started laughing.
“There it is.”
“Fuck you.”
“See? We’re even.”
“We are absolutely not fucking even.”
Kirishima leaned back in the chair, looking smug again. “You’re gay for Midoriya. I’m straight for Mina. Everybody’s got problems.”
Bakugo glared. “Your problem is you’ve liked her forever and still haven’t done shit about it.”
Kirishima’s expression dropped.
Bakugo saw it, and his grin immediately returned.
“That one hit, huh?”
“Fuck off.”
“How long?”
“I’m not answering that.”
“You asked me who fucking topped.”
“That is completely different.”
“Indeed it’s worse.”
“No, it’s not!”
Bakugo leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking unbearably entertained now. “How long?”
Kirishima crossed his arms.
Bakugo’s grin widened. “You’ve had a crush on her since entrance exam, haven’t you?”
Kirishima’s silence was devastating.
Bakugo started laughing at him.
Not a small laugh either.
Kirishima’s face went scarlet. “Shut the fuck up!”
“ENTRANCE EXAM?”
“Lower your voice!”
Bakugo laughed harder, which was particularly hypocritical considering how violently he had reacted to Kirishima raising his voice about Midoriya approximately twenty minutes earlier.
“You’ve been sitting there making fun of me and you’ve been pining after Raccoon Eyes for months?”
“I am not pining.”
“You absolutely are.”
“I talk to her all the time!”
“And somehow you still haven’t told her.”
Bakugo pointed at him. “Pathetic.”
“You took years to realize you liked Midoriya!”
“I’ll blast you through the fucking door.”
Kirishima laughed and shook his head. “I seriously didn’t know what else to think, okay? You were acting weird as hell, I know you’re friends with Mina, and I thought maybe you didn’t wanna tell me because you knew I liked her.”
Bakugo’s expression shifted into something almost offended. “You think I’d fuck somebody I knew you were into and then hide it from you?”
Kirishima paused.
“...No.”
“Then you’re even stupider than I thought.”
“Yeah, well, I panicked!”
Bakugo stared at him.
Then slowly smirked again. “You panicked because you thought I fucked your crush.”
Kirishima groaned and covered his face with both hands. “Please stop saying it like that.”
“Why? Accurate.”
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“You spent forty fucking minutes interrogating me about Deku’s dick.”
“That is not what happened!”
“Pretty fucking close.”
Kirishima lowered his hands and gave him a flat look. “You know what? I take back everything supportive I said.”
Bakugo snorted. “Too late.”
“I’m judging you now.”
“For being gay?”
“For being an asshole.”
Bakugo grinned. “There we go.”
Kirishima shook his head, but he was laughing again now, and the whole thing had become easy in a way the earlier conversation had absolutely not been, the tension finally bleeding out of the room until they were back to what they knew how to do best: insulting each other, dragging up embarrassing information and refusing to let the other person survive it with any dignity intact.
Bakugo gave him one last considering look.
“So when are you gonna tell her?”
Kirishima’s smile vanished.
Bakugo immediately started laughing again.
“Fuck you.”
“Coward.”
“You literally hid your boyfriend for two months!”
“And still managed to get one before you.”
Kirishima glared at him furiously.
Bakugo’s grin became insufferable.
“Oh, that’s low.”
“Again, accurate.”
“You are the worst best friend alive.”
“And yet you’re still here, asshole.”
Kirishima stood, grabbed the pillow off the floor and threw it straight at Bakugo’s face.
Bakugo caught it and laughed.
“Go confess to Raccoon Eyes.”
“I hate you.”
“She’d probably say yes.”
Kirishima stopped for half a second.
Bakugo noticed.
The smirk softened only slightly.
Then he ruined it immediately.
“Unless she’s into dudes who know how to use a controller.”
Kirishima punched him playfully. “Oh, fuck off, man!”
They both bursted out laughing again.
For a little while the conversation returned to something almost ordinary, but Kirishima eventually noticed that despite all the joking, Bakugo had never actually become completely relaxed again.
His hands, which had briefly calmed, were moving once more where they rested against his stomach, fingertips rubbing rapidly together in a repetitive little motion while his breathing hitched every few cycles, and when Kirishima thought back over the conversation he realized Bakugo had done this every time they drifted from sex or Midoriya specifically back toward the fact that he was gay.
Kirishima’s smile faded.
“Hey.”
Bakugo looked over.
“You sure you’re okay?”
Bakugo’s first reaction was annoyance. “How many fucking times—”
“I’m not trying to make it a thing.”
That stopped him.
Kirishima nodded toward his hands. “You’re doing that again.”
Bakugo looked down and immediately clenched both hands into fists, which only made the problem more obvious.
Kirishima nodded toward them. “You can sit there and hate the fact that you’re gay as much as you want. I can’t magically get inside your head and make that stop.”
Bakugo’s face tightened.
“But you being a guy and Midoriya being a guy doesn’t make me give a shit about you two any differently than I would if you were dating some girl.”
Bakugo looked away.
“If you complain about him, I’m gonna make fun of you. If you tell me he did something romantic, I’m definitely gonna make fun of you. If you start talking about his ass, I’m probably leaving.”
Bakugo barked out a startled laugh.
Kirishima grinned.
Bakugo shook his head. “Asshole.”
“That’s what I mean.”
Bakugo’s laughter disappeared, but some of the tension went with it.
Kirishima continued, a little quieter now. “You’re still my best friend. This didn’t change that.”
Bakugo swallowed.
“And,” he added with a smirk, “you’re still the same asshole who broke my ribs in training last month.”
“You deserved it.”
“See? Gay and violent. Incredible.”
Bakugo snorted.
Kirishima pointed at him. “Same guy.”
Bakugo rolled his eyes.
Kirishima allowed the conversation to drift away from the rawest part of the subject, and after a few minutes Bakugo’s breathing finally evened out properly while his fingers stopped moving altogether.
It was only then that Kirishima apparently remembered he was still carrying one piece of information his brain had not remotely finished abusing.
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Bakugo caught the expression immediately and groaned. “What now.”
Kirishima’s mouth twitched.
“I just still can’t believe it.”
Bakugo’s entire face soured. “We are not fucking doing this again.”
“Midoriya is so small.”
Bakugo ran a hand over his face, exasperated. “Just get the fuck out of here.”
Kirishima started laughing again and stood, finally deciding he had probably used up every available unit of goodwill for the evening. “Okay! I’m going.”
“You should’ve gone forty minutes ago.”
Kirishima moved toward the door, still grinning. “I’m just saying, this is a lot to process.”
“There is nothing to process.”
“My best friend is gay, dating his childhood rival, lost his virginity last night and got topped by a guy who apologizes to furniture.”
Bakugo launched himself off the bed.
Kirishima immediately grabbed the handle.
“GOODNIGHT, BAKUGO!”
“I’LL FUCKING MURDER YOU!”
“LOVE YOU TOO!”
“FUCK OFF!”
The door slammed shut behind Kirishima, and for a few seconds Bakugo stayed exactly where he was, standing in the middle of the room with a pillow still clenched in one hand and his face hot from a combination of embarrassment, irritation and the fact that his best friend now knew far more about his private life than any human being had ever been meant to know.
He threw the pillow back onto the bed and stood there for another moment, staring at the closed door as if Kirishima might somehow come charging back through it with another question about Deku’s dick, and when that did not happen he finally exhaled hard through his nose and dropped onto the mattress.
The room suddenly felt weirdly quiet.
Not bad.
Just quiet.
His phone was still lying where he had abandoned it near the pillows, the television remained paused on the game menu and there were still a couple of empty soda bottles by the desk that Kirishima had somehow missed, but otherwise everything looked exactly the same as it had an hour earlier.
Which was fucking stupid.
Something should have looked different.
Bakugo had just come out to Kirishima.
Actually come out.
He had said the words.
I’m gay.
Out loud.
To somebody who was not Deku.
The thought made his stomach twist again, and almost automatically his hands found each other in his lap, fingers starting to rub restlessly against his knuckles before Bakugo noticed and forced them apart.
“Fucking stop.”
The words sounded ridiculous spoken into an empty room.
He scrubbed both palms down his face instead.
Kirishima knew.
That was the part his brain kept circling back to, no matter how many times he tried to move past it.
Kirishima knew he was gay, knew about Deku, knew they had been fooling around for more than two months, knew they were actually dating now, knew they had fucked last night and, because apparently Bakugo had been cursed with the most irritating best friend alive, even knew who had topped.
Bakugo groaned and dropped backward onto the bed.
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
He stared at the ceiling.
That part could die.
He was never thinking about that part again.
Unfortunately, underneath the humiliation there was still the much larger thing, the one that made his chest tighten every time he thought about it too directly.
Kirishima knew.
And nothing had happened.
No weird silence afterward.
No awkward careful voice.
No sudden distance.
No look that said oh, so that’s what you are now.
He had been shocked, yeah, because apparently Bakugo had done a pretty fucking convincing job pretending to like women for years, but once the surprise wore off Kirishima had mostly done what he always did: asked too many questions, laughed at him, said something stupid, got insulted, insulted him back and somehow managed to turn Bakugo’s first actual coming-out conversation into an argument about Midoriya being too small to top him.
Bakugo’s mouth twitched despite himself.
Fucking idiot.
He rolled his head slightly and looked toward the door again.
The whole thing should have felt bigger.
Scarier.
Maybe it still did, somewhere under everything else, because the fact that Kirishima knew was not something Bakugo could take back now even if he decided tomorrow that he wanted to, and there was still a deeply uncomfortable part of him that hated the idea of anyone else carrying that information around in their head.
But Kirishima had not looked at him differently.
That mattered more than Bakugo wanted it to.
He sat up again after a minute, elbows braced on his knees, and his gaze dropped toward his own hands.
They were steady now.
Earlier they had been fucking useless, fingers constantly moving because apparently his body had decided coming out to one person counted as a life-or-death situation, but now there was nothing except a faint residual tension in his chest and the embarrassment of remembering half the shit Kirishima had said.
What does it feel like?
Bakugo snorted.
Moron.
Then his mind betrayed him by replaying another part.
You’re still the same asshole who broke my ribs in training last month.
Bakugo’s mouth twitched again.
That had been a dumb thing to say.
A very Kirishima thing to say.
And maybe that was why it had worked better than anything soft would have.
Because Kirishima had not sat there trying to convince him that being gay was beautiful or special or some important new part of himself he needed to embrace immediately, had not stared at him with that careful expression people got when they thought somebody might shatter if they used the wrong word.
He had just treated it like another thing about Bakugo.
A thing he was apparently willing to argue about for forty minutes, but still just a thing.
Bakugo leaned forward again and rubbed one hand over the back of his neck.
He still hated it.
That had not changed.
Saying it out loud to Kirishima had not magically rewired his brain or erased the sick twist in his stomach whenever he thought too hard about what being gay meant for the version of himself he had always expected to become, and it definitely had not made him suddenly comfortable with the idea of Denki knowing, or Shoto, or his parents, or the fucking world.
But maybe—
Before he could finish the thought, his phone buzzed near his hip.
Bakugo glanced down.
A message from Deku.
Spent all afternoon with Tenya and Ochaco. Just got back to my room 👍
Bakugo stared at it for a second.
Then another message appeared.
I think i’m still smiling like an idiot for last night
Bakugo’s expression softened before he could stop it.
He typed back.
not my problem to solve
Three dots appeared immediately.
Bakugo watched them.
You’re very mean to your boyfriend
Bakugo’s thumb paused over the screen.
The word still did something strange to him.
Not bad exactly, but very strange.
He read it again.
Boyfriend.
His boyfriend.
Deku.
Bakugo exhaled through his nose and typed.
go annoy four-eyes
The reply came almost instantly.
Yeah, yeah. Goodnight ❤️
Bakugo stared at the heart.
His face heated.
“Fuck off,” he muttered at the phone.
He did not reply.
He also did not stop looking at the message for another several seconds.
Eventually he tossed the phone beside him and fell backward onto the mattress again, one arm over his eyes while the remains of the afternoon finally caught up with him.
His room was quiet again.
Normal.
Exactly the same as before.
Bakugo lay there for another minute, then lowered his arm and stared at the ceiling.
“Fucking idiot,” he muttered one more time, though whether he meant Kirishima, Deku or himself was not entirely clear.
Probably all three.