Brrr. Brrr. Brrr.

Brrr. Brrr. Brrr.

Kirishima groaned, rolling over and patting his hand along his bedside table, searching for his alarm. The noise was loud, overly so, and he could feel his whole bed vibrating. Why would he set an alarm for a Saturday?

When his hand clicked the snooze, button, he sat up, groaning slightly and rubbing his eyes. There was a light filtered through the curtains that cast his room in a sort of muted glow, illuminating the scattered mess of his various books, clothes and, for some reason, a stray pillow against the far wall. His eyes flickered down and saw that Bakugo was sleeping in the most awkward position possible, one knee tucked up so far that it was brushing up on his nose, the other extended outwards so it stretched underneath Kirishima's bed. And, of course, he was missing his pillow.

Brrr. Brrr. Brrr.

Kirishima yelled in frustration, ready to throw his alarm clock over to join Bakugo's pillow, when he realised that that wasn't his alarm. After all, was the vibrations from his alerts strong enough to make Kirishima judder off his mattress and land on the floor?

Well, not on the floor. He landed heavily on top of Bakugo, the boy grunting loudly. It only took a moment for the blond to jerk upright, throwing his body to the side and sending Kirishima rolling off him.

"What the fuck?" Bakugo coughed, winded from Kirishima's fall.

Laughing, Kirishima got to his feet and offered his hand. "Ah, sorry bro. I forgot about the builders, and...well."

Bakugo surveyed his hand for a second, as if he half expected it to wrap around his throat and try to throttle him, then seemingly dismissed the thought and grasped it, using Kirishima to pull himself to his feet. "Fucking builders," he muttered.

They stood there for a moment, Bakugo with a scowl as he glared at the wall from which the noise emanated, Kirishima trailing his eyes over the way Bakugo's hair looked even more unkempt than usual this morning. Must have been one hell of a night, he thought. Then he felt a warmth in his palm, a tight grip, and his face flushed, cheeks turning a bright red, enough to match his hair. "Uh, Bakugo?"

Bakugo looked over and realised without Kirishima even needing to say anything, ripping his hand free and storming over to the en-suite door, disappearing inside and slamming it shut.

It took a moment for Kirishima to move, his gaze fixed on the closed door, before he realised that he may as well get ready for the day - it wasn't like he would be able to get back to sleep with that racket going on.

Clenching and unclenching his hand, the feel of Bakugo's calloused fingers on his skin engraved into his mind, Kirishima moved over to the dresser, pulling out various items of clothing. Judging from the last week or so, Bakugo would take anywhere from five minutes to half an hour in the bathroom, so Kirishima wasn't bothered about his speed of changing, as he lazily peeled off his shirt and tossed it to the side, pulling on a loose tank top and a hoodie over the top.

His eyes wandered, drifting over to the far wall to where Bakugo's pillow lay discarded. Frowning slightly, Kirishima abandoned the jeans in his hand and walked over. He stooped down and picked it up, the white fabric damp in his grip, and sweet smelling. He turned it over and his frown deepened.

On each side of the pillow were two large holes, burnt out in the centre. The sweet-smelling stuff was clearly Bakugo's nitroglycerin, and Kirishima wondered what on earth Bakugo had been dreaming about that had caused him to freak out and explode his pillow like this.

Suddenly realising that he didn't want to be caught snooping, Kirishima stood up sharply, leaving the pillow on the wooden flooring and walking quickly back over to his pants, sliding them on just as Bakugo came out of the en-suite.

"Wanna go get breakfast?" Kirishima asked, although what he really wanted to question Bakugo on was his dream.

Maybe it was the speed of which he asked his question, or the slightly guilty look on Kirishima's face, but Bakugo knew something was up immediately. "The fuck's wrong?" he muttered brashly.

Kirishima chuckled sheepishly. "Ah, sorry. I just...I saw your pillow."

Bakugo froze, turning slowly to face him. He didn't say anything.

"Are you alright?" he tried, knowing that Bakugo didn't respond well to pity but still wanting so sound like he cared.

The blond blinked a few times. "'M fine, Shitty Hair. Just a stupid nightmare." Although he tried to sound casual, the shake in his voice betrayed him.

Before Kirishima knew what he was doing, he had touched Bakugo's arm, guiding him to the edge of his bed. Suprisingly, Bakugo allowed himself to be guided, and willing sat beside Kirishima. "You wanna talk about it?"

Bakugo dipped his head, sighed, then looked up at Kirishima. For the first time since he had known him, Bakugo looked...vulnerable. Sincere. "Kamino," he said simply. "Fucking Kamino."

Of course Bakugo would still be terrorised by that night. Even Kirishima had had the occasional nightmare about it, and he hadn't even been there for the duration of it - Bakugo was there, in the thick of it all, for every moment. "Hey, Bakugo...it's alright. You're not alone in this, y'know? You've got me. You're welcome to talk to me about anything, whenever."

Bakugo stared for a moment, almost surprised, then he was roughly getting to his feet. "Yeah, whatever. Thanks, Shi...Kirishima."

A feeling akin to a warmth glowing in Kirishima's chest lit up, and he sent Bakugo a beaming grin. The blond, surprisingly, didn't scowl in response, instead arching a brow and turning away to grab some clothes from his pile of belongings.

"See you downstairs?" Kirishima said cheerfully, reaching for the door handle. He waited for Bakugo's nod of approval before opening it, waving as he shut it behind him.

The kitchen, of course, was packed, everyone having gotten up at the same time due to the building work. People were scrambling for the milk and cereal boxes, crowding around the toaster and fighting for the kettle to make their morning coffee. Flashing a grin to Sero, who had managed to nab around eight pieces of toast, he gestured for him to come over. Once they were seated, Sero offered him a slice.

"Thanks, bro," Kirishima said gratefully, accepting it and biting down. It was plain, but he didn't mind - trying to get anything from that mad place would be impossible.

Sero shrugged. "No problem." He bit down on his own piece. "How's rooming with Bakugo?"

Kirishima could feel a smile tugging at his lips. "Honestly, not bad. He's tidy, clean, and mostly quiet. Not a bad guy to room with, actually."

At Sero's cocky smile, Kirishima blinked. "What?"

Raising his hands in surrender, still holding his toast, Sero laughed. "Nothing, nothing. Just...don't you find it weird? That you're literally the only person Bakugo will let near him?"

Kirishima frowned slightly. "Well...no? I suppose I haven't really thought about it, but...I don't think so."

Sero stared. "Please tell me you're not that dense," he muttered, exasperated.

"What?" Kirishima queried, leaning closer across the table. "What do you mean? Dense about what?"

Chuckling, Sero shook his head. "Ah, it's nothing. Don't even worry about it."

"But now I am worried about it!" Kirishima complained, slumping back on his chair in defeat. "Just tell me!"

Defiant, Sero shook his head. "You'll see," he eluded ominously, tapping his nose. Before Kirishima could press him further, there was a loud bang from the kitchen. He turned to face the commotion just in time to see Bakugo practically throw himself out of the mob.

"Fucking extras!" he yelled back at them. "Not letting me get my fucking food!"

"There is a queue, Bakugo!" Iida stressed, exaggerated hand movements at work once again, but Bakugo ignored him, deciding that he wasn't worth the trouble and heading for the doors, ripping them open and storming outside, vanishing from sight.

The room was quiet for a moment, everyone processing what had happened, until there was a ding from the kettle and the hubbub was switched onto full volume again.

"That guy's a living nightmare," Sero groaned, running his free hand through his hair. "We're all lucky you were the one who got paired with him. Had anyone else been his roommate, they'd probably be dead."

Doubting the truth of that statement, Sero's wording still made him pause - Kirishima found himself suddenly and inexplicably wanting to know more about Bakugo's nightmare; what had triggered it, what happened, who was involved. It really was uncharacteristic of the blond to lose such control over his Quirk, even in an unconscious state, so it had to have been something really awful - 'Kamino' didn't really settle it for Kirishima.

"Nah, bro. Bakugo's not that bad, really."

Sero simply hummed his skepticism, taking another large bite out of his toast as the realisation that Bakugo had just left really sunk into Kirishima's head. Hadn't Bakugo said he was going to dye his hair today?

Well, he wasn't really surprised; maybe Bakugo had simply said that last night and forgot about it today. After all, it wasn't really that important, and Kirishima could definitely do it himself.

Yeah, he told himself firmly. But despite his brain telling him that, there was this hollow feeling in his chest that wasn't going away.

- - -

"Gah!" Kirishima groaned, throwing his body backwards and flailing as his chair wobbled unsteadily with the force of his action. Quickly regaining his balance, Kirishima slumped his body over his desk, sounds of frustration reverberating around his room. It was around midday, and Kirishima hadn't had anything planned for the day other than dying his hair, which he now couldn't find the motivation to do, so instead he had tried to start on his homework. Getting to around the fifth or sixth question in his maths assignment, Kirishima soon found himself staring blankly at the page, wishing for a magical fairy to appear in front of him and gift him with the knowledge of how to answer it.

Just as he was about to give up and text Kaminari to ask if he wanted to play video games together, his bedroom door handle rattled, before the whole thing flew open and Bakugo stood there, irritated as usual.

"Oh, Bakugo!" Kirishima greeted, thankful. "Good timing! I was just-" He stopped himself, glancing at the plastic bag in the blond's hand. "What's that?"

Bakugo muttered something incoherent under his breath, probably a curse of some sort, before tossing the bag across the room. Kirishima watched it's gentle arc, straps flapping slightly, until it came to a not-so-graceful stop on the bed, thudding heavily onto the mattress and sinking into the comforter.

Kirishima was about to ask what it was again, but a flash of red caught his eye. He stood up to get a better look, stepping over to the bag. Bakugo still stood there, looking at him, as Kirishima picked up what had tumbled out of the bag.

"Bro!" he yelled happily, turning to Bakugo, who hadn't moved and was watching him with a disinterested expression. Kirishima held up the hair dye, as if Bakugo wouldn't know what he was so excited about. "I thought I was gonna buy it!"

"Tch," Bakugo averted his eyes, strolling inside and kicking the door shut behind him. "You were taking too fucking long."

Not phased by his words in the slightest, Kirishima beamed at Bakugo. "Should we do it now?"

Glaring, Bakugo was next to Kirishima quicker than the red-head could keep track of, snatching the box out his his hands. "Yes," Bakugo muttered, tone portraying that he thought it was the most obvious thing ever. Not that Kirishima disagreed - this stuff took forever.

There was a moment of silence, where both boys just stared at each other. Kirishima's eyes wandered freely, taking in the way Bakugo's jaw was set, the way his eyes were fiery with intensity, the way the corner of his lip twitched when he was totally still, like it couldn't contain itself - until Bakugo shoved a finger towards the bathroom door. "Go wash your fucking hair."

"Right!" Kirishima exclaimed, jumping forwards and practically running into the en-suite. "I'll be right out!" Bakugo didn't reply, letting Kirishima rush past him and slam the door shut. Once inside, Kirishima felt the blush consume his face. It was hot and uncomfortable, and he couldn't figure out why it was there. Did he like...?

No, he told himself firmly. I have a soulmate. He paused. I...think...

Stripping himself of his clothes, Kirishima turned on the shower and waited 'til the water heated up, then slid inside and stood under the spray. He was only in there for a maximum of five minutes, but before long he could hear a loud succession of bangs on the bathroom door. "Hurry the fuck up, Shitty Hair! I haven't got all fucking day!"

Kirishima washed the last suds of conditioner out of his hair before replying with a hasty "Sorry!" only to find that a lot of the soapy water had run into his mouth, and he blanched at the taste. He spluttered a bit, tilting his head backwards to run water over his tongue, washing it about in his mouth before spitting it out. He repeated the actions a few more times until the taste diminished, although it still resided somewhere, before he twisted the knob and the water shut off. Making sure there was a towel, Kirishima hopped out of the shower and rubbed viciously at his hair before he deemed it dry enough, then wrapped the material around his waist and unlocked the bathroom door.

Bakugo was lounging on his bed, body spread out over the mattress. He wasn't doing anything, just staring blankly at the wall. When Kirishima emerged, his eyes snapped over there, narrowing slightly. "Are you finally ready?"

Kirishima barked out a laugh. "Bro, at least let me get changed!"

Bakugo made a noise of discontent as he turned away, bringing his arms up only to let them drop heavily back on to the comforter. Kirishima watched, entranced, as his muscles rippled beneath Bakugo's pale skin with the movement, the sight momentarily distracting him, until that voice returned.

You like him.

He jerked to the left with a start, blushing as he saw Bakugo's head snap to face him out of the corner of his eye. Thankfully, the blond didn't question it, but did keep his stare on the red-head for a little longer - only when Kirishima (who was pretending not to notice) began to grab his clothes did he look away.

Once he had changed into some old, worn-out belongings, he turned back to Bakugo, who was now rummaging in the bag, pulling out all sorts from the bag that Kirishima didn't know he had bought in the first place. "Bro," he protested, moving over and picking up a brush, it's rubber bristles running over his fingers. "You didn't need to buy all this. I have bleach and stuff!"

Bakugo scoffed. "I've seen the shit in your cupboards. It's old and cheap and you'll probably give yourself a rash or something."

Giving a small hum of agreement, Kirishima sat in his desk chair and wheeled himself over to Bakugo, who was opening the bleach and pouring the powder into a brand new, shiny bowl. Grabbing the bottle of solution, he poured it in and began to vigorously mix it together with a brush. Kirishkma tried not to cringe, the worry that some of it would slip over the edge at the forefront of his mind.

A few hours later, bleach in place and red hair dye in the process of being drizzled over his now-white strands, Kirishima made a noise of content.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Huh?" Kirishima asked, tilting his head slightly to face Bakugo. He was standing above him, fingers beginning to work themselves into the strands, massaging his scalp.

Twisting a finger around a particularly thick lock, Bakugo trapped it and pulled, the spare dye coming off into his glove covered hands, and he rubbed it onto a more sparsely covered area. "That noise."

Kirishima laughed. "It just feels nice."

"Tch." Bakugo didn't meet his gaze, kdespite Kirishima looking directly at him. "Sounded weird."

"Sorry," Kirishima apologised. "Just...thank you! For doing this. It's nice for someone to share this kind of thing with me." A memory popped into his mind and he laughed softly. "Y'know, the first time I did this, I didn't read any instructions or follow any guide. The bleach wasn't mixed properly, the dye was the wrong colour and I ended up burning my scalp, and i thought I was going to have permanently red fingertips because I didn't wear any gloves." Kirishima wiggled his fingers as if to accentuate his point.

"Fucking idiot. Of course you'd do that," Bakugo scolded, although Kirishima detected a hint of amusement in his tone. It was a good feeling, being the source of Bakugo's enjoyment, if rare and often unprecedented.

A comfortable silence ensued, in which Kirishima closed his eyes, relishing in the delicious sensations of the massage he was getting. Only when the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, alerting him that someone was watching him, did his eyes flutter open to see Bakugo staring at him.

"What?" Kirishima asked, slightly self-conscious.

Bakugo frowned slightly. "Where'd you get that scar?"

Kirishima blinked, and Bakugo gestured to his right eye. "Oh," he laughed awkwardly. "That thing."

When he didn't elaborate, Bakugo looked away, going back to rubbing in the dye. "You don't have to fucking tell me or shit."

Immediately feeling bad, Kirishima waved his hands about. "No, no, it's fine. It's just that...everybody else has really cool stories about how they got their scars, like Midoriya and him learning how to use his Quirk." He tried not to giggle as Bakugo visibly tensed at the mention of his 'childhood friend'. "Well, this I got when I was four. I woke up...from a nightmare. I was crying, and rubbing at my eyes, and suddenly my Quirk activated and I cut myself. There was loads of blood, even though it was such a small scratch, and I had never used my Quirk before either..."

Bakugo flicked his eyes back to the red-head, still frowning. "And what about the one on your head?" He briefly ran his finger over a ridge, just hidden by his hairline. "Was that the same thing?"

Kirishima's blood ran cold. He shook his head.

When he didn't give any further answer, Bakugo just nodded, taking the hint and not asking anymore questions. The mood had gone from friendly and happy to sombre in an instant, and Kirishima knew it was his fault.

It's always your fault.

---

That night, Kirishima lay in bed, unable to sleep. His hair was wrapped in his usual towel, his comforter was tucked up to his chin and his eyes were wide open.

Bakugo was long since asleep, both of them having retreated to bed a good two hours ago, but even when the lights on the hall were switched off and the crickets had gone silent outside his window, Kirishima couldn't sleep. A nagging feeling was in the back of his mind, that voice again. It was screaming at him.

No matter how many times he tried to silence it, tell it to leave him alone, it wouldn't. And now it was focused on one thing.

You're just going to ignore your soulmate? No wonder they don't want you.

"Shut up," Kirishima muttered, digging the back of his head into his pillow.

You can't just send one message. One goodnight message. You're useless.

He shouldn't give in. He shouldn't. But those last two words stuck in his mind and before he could comprehend what his body was doing his pinky was on his forearm, tracing out letters, long and scratchy and almost illegible. But it was just readable, and Kirishima had tears forming in his eyes as he wrote. Once he was done, he threw his arm to the side, as if trying to get rid of it, and rolled over, rubbing viciously at the salty water now flowing freely down his face.

I don't care if you're there or not. I know you don't want to talk to me, so I can just leave you alone now.

He didn't even say goodnight.