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“Kirishima-kun, please see me after class,” Aizawa-Sensei said before the bell rang. The other kids filed out while Kiri slowly gathered his things. He trudged up to his teacher's desk quietly.
“No homework again? You know what three times will get you...” Kirishima did his best to hide behind his black hair. He nodded.
Aizawa sighed. He had been giving Kirishima detention at least once a week these days. The kid wouldn’t open up to him, but he also couldn’t figure out how to get the work done. “Hour-long detention after school.”
Kiri nodded again. Aizawa knew asking him how things were at home never went anywhere. He wracked his brain for a way to help get the kid on track.
“Dismissed.”
Kirishima took his time getting to his locker. The obnoxious kids always knocked into him and made fun of his black nail polish or long straight hair. He’d heard it all before but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Every day for Kirishima was a climb. He woke up in a loud, angry house. He tried to get out as quickly as possible to avoid his parents’ nagging comments. Even though his dark appearance stood out, he really tried to avoid any attention. That’s how he was raised. Be quiet. Don’t take up space. You’re always in other people’s way. It was one of the reasons he would never ask for a tutor, and also one of the reasons he’d be heading to detention again. He tugged his dark jacket sleeves over his hands and made it through his last class. He was a shadow in the hallway and a ghost in the back of the classroom.
“Oh geez!” One of the louder teachers walked into detention with a scare. “I didn’t notice you back there!” He smiled. Kiri liked him, but he asked too many questions.
Kiri sighed and got out the homework he hadn’t turned in. It was an embarrassing sight. The number of times he had to erase and try again... the paper was nearly tearing now. He mostly zoned out while looking at the questions he knew that he didn’t understand. There wasn’t much else to do. So he jolted when the door flung open.
“You’re late, Bakugou-kun,” the teacher noted.
“THIS IS ALL BULLSHIT ANYWAYS. I SHOULD BE TEACHING THE FUCKING CLASSES INSTEAD OF THAT IDIOT!!”
Ah, Bakugou.
Everyone knew him. His parents were famous in the fashion industry and tried to be as supportive as possible. But Bakugou was a constant ticking timebomb, even if his intentions were in the right place. Or, well, a semi-logical place.
The guy made Kiri nervous. He was afraid to get yelled at for one. But on the other hand, the guy was gorgeous. He was always clad in black and metal, a perfect contrast to his bright skin and hair. His piercings further accentuated his wild expressions. There were rumors he even had a tattoo. Kiri tried not to stare, even when heavy combat boots made their way toward him. Though their appearances weren’t completely different, they were from different crowds, different universes.
“This is such a waste of time!” Bakugou dropped into a seat dramatically.
“Why not finish up your homework then?” The teacher always managed an even tone with the explosive boy.
“Yeah, right. Waste five whole minutes,” Bakugou clicked his tongue. Kiri had heard that was pierced too.
But it didn’t matter. Some people might have thought their circles would intermingle, but Bakugou was born into opportunity and encouragement. The things he fought for were just to make good things better. Kirishima was born in degradation and dismissal. He fought to have a few moments of peace in a day. To even think they could have a conversation had Kiri biting his nails.
Apparently Bakugou could be quiet for five whole minutes because he was right, his last homework assignment was done in five minutes.
“I’m done can I go??” He asked impatiently.
“Has it been an hour?” The teacher peered over thin glasses.
“God this is so boring!!!” Bakugou sighed dramatically. It seemed that this was his first time noticing anyone else in the room, namely Kirishima.
“Are you seriously stuck on geometry?!” He asked, barely seeing one of the shapes on the paper.
Kiri paused, scared at the lashing he was about to get.
“Oi!!” Bakugou kicked the desk between them and Kiri jumped. “Asked you a fuckin' question!”
“Language,” the teacher cut in.
“Y-yeah I am,” Kiri’s voice was a bit raspy from lack of use. “It’s stupid, I know.”
“Are you stupid?” Bakugou asked. It was an odd question. He still looked angry but he seemed genuine. Didn’t he just say he was stupid for not knowing how to solve the problem? “Fucking teachers and their teaching styles catering to one goddamn personality type.”
“What?” Kiri had no idea where that came from.
“This fuckin school is never gonna change,” Bakugou turned around in his seat and started scribbling something passionately in his notebook.
Maybe he meant that the way he was taught wasn’t the best way for him. Maybe he wasn’t calling him stupid, but the process...
No.
There was no way.
Bakugou was just angry about a lot of things and Kirishima wasn’t worth his trouble. Though he did wonder what on earth the guy was so invested in. After ten minutes of silence, Kiri dared to peak.
Five lines crudely drawn with... music notes?
Kirishima found himself watching, hoping to catch a glimpse more of the blond’s scribbles, because above the notes were words. No one knew about the acoustic guitar Kirishima had hidden in an upstairs closet.
When Bakugou went to the bathroom, Kiri stole another look. He could faintly read:
“They demand we win the race with bound and broken legs.”
He wondered what it meant and if their previous conversation was related. He also wondered what kind of genre it was written for. Probably something edgy or hardcore... He couldn’t daydream for long because Bakugou returned. Kiri gave up on his homework and started to sketch. It was one of the few times he could just not think. His mind was trained on every trail his pencil carved. It was just a drawing of the pen that sat on his desk, cap chewed up from Kiri’s sharp teeth. He would throw it away later, but it was worth something right now. Detention ended and Bakugou bolted out the door. He probably had a list of things he wanted to do. Kiri on the other hand went to his locker to grab half of the lunch he didn’t eat and head up to the second floor closet. He would play his guitar until the sun set, and if he could time it right, get home and do his chores before his parents got back from their work dinner. The day had been an oddly good one.
The next time he saw the blond was during gym. They were supposed to be playing kickball, but Kiri never even tried at sports. Instead, he picked the little flowers people called weeds. When some guys made fun of him for not playing, for picking flowers, saying he might chip his nail polish— Bakugou actually threw the ball at one of their heads.
After the seemingly kind act, Bakugou stomped over spewing words laced with judgment.
“The fuck is wrong with you? Stand up for yourself for once,” he said angrily before jogging back to the field.
Either they didn’t see each other or Bakugou just didn’t notice, but it would be another week before they spoke again. A long week, for Kirishima. They were both back in detention, but this time with Mr. Aizawa. Bakugou yelled and complained like always. He even remembered Kiri from last time and commented on how he better not be working on geometry again. Aizawa took the opportunity.
“Then help him with it.”
“You serious??” Bakugou complained.
“Unless you don’t think you /can/.”
“Fuck you,” Bakugou spun around and grabbed the homework off of Kiri’s desk.
“Wait—“ Kiri tried to grab it back. Bakugou started to look over the problems and then felt a second sheet of paper. “I don’t need help, you don’t need to waste your time—“
“The fuck is this?”
On the second sheet was freestyle poetry, not all of it rhymed, and it was dark as shit. Once Bakugou got to the line “I don’t deserve to exist” he scoffed. Kirishima prepared for the teasing or the name-calling but it didn’t come.
“Now I gotta fix two things, fuck.” Bakugou droned as if we were simply handed an extra assignment. He returned to the math page and started marking it up.
Kirishima helplessly waited for Bakugou to return his papers. He gave him back his homework and a simple, color-coded guide that showed Kirishima exactly when to use which formula. His second sheet of paper was still missing.
“B-Bakugou-kun,” he said nervously. It was his first time saying his name out loud.
“Do your damn homework,” he growled. He was now marking up the poem. “Why are you—“
“Be thankful I’m helping you! Stop asking stupid questions!”
The way Bakugou laid out his homework with the guide actually made a lot more sense. He even finished the assignment before detention was up. When he went to ask for his writing back though, Bakugou stuffed it in his backpack and said he wasn’t done. Then he was gone.
Kirishima continued to try to find the blond and ask for his writing back, afraid that if anyone else saw it, they’d make fun of him. He didn’t find him until gym class the next day. He timidly approached the explosive guy who was shedding his leather studded jacket.
“Um. Bakugou-kun?” He asked with a death grip on his long sleeves.
“Ha? The hell ya want, Inkblot?”
“What? Oh, I uh, could I get my writing back?”
“Your writing?” He asked confused. His sunshine blond friend peered around to see who was talking to Blasty.
“Y-you took my paper in detention,” he stuttered, even more nervous from the attention. “Oh, your song?”
“This is the guy that wrote the song??” Kaminari chimed in. It was always odd to see Kaminari with Bakugou since their personalities seemed so opposite. Kaminari was known to be cheerful and smiley if not a bit air-headed.
“I didn’t write a son—“
“Jirou is working on the melody. I guess you can have the original back if you want.”
Bakugou searched his bag and pulled out the crumpled paper.
“Here,” he shoved the paper into Kiri’s chest.
“That shit was good, man! Dark as hell, but Kaachan loves that kinda thing,” Kaminari said.
“Thanks, I guess,” Kiri hid behind his hair and made his escape. Kaminari was nice to everyone, so much so that Kiri questioned whether it was genuine or not. He brought the paper into a stall and unfolded it.
There were a lot of vague notes written on it. There were notes for a chorus, arrows showing lines that should be switched, and little lines marked through quite a few sentences.
It didn’t make sense. Why would Bakugou try to make a song out of his depressing writing? It seemed like he didn’t even like half of it. Kirishima sighed and hid the sheet deep inside his bag.
He continued to see the punky blond in the hallways, geared up and ready to take on the world. Kiri hid his face, even though he was sure Bakugou would never call out to him.
But after a week Bakugou was actively looking for the shadow of a boy. He didn’t remember his name or really anything about him except for wearing black and being bad at math. So it took a few days. It was raining and there was a leak in the room where Kirishima liked to play his guitar after hours. He waited extra long after the final bell and then went to the school’s music room. The building echoed emptiness, so he started strumming, tuning, then strumming again. Playing music wasn’t for the instrumentals though. It was for his voice. There were so few times his voice could sound, could be heard without the backlash. These sacred moments were his favorite. His voice was scratchy and clean at the same time. He could speak his darkest fears or deepest pains. Only his guitar could hear and she sang along in perfect harmony.
In the middle of his first song, the classroom door slammed open. An angry Bakugou Katsuki stomped through the door. Kirishima fell silent and waited, holding his strings tight, quiet.
“You sing??!”
“What are you doing here??” Kiri nearly fell out of his seat.
“The song’s done and you didn’t leave through the gates. Why the hell are you hiding out here?”
“You were waiting for me?”
“Jirou was going to sing, but fuck, now you gotta.”
“Me?? Sing? I don’t sing—“
“I just heard you, asshole. Jirou’s voice is far too pretty for our style. Yours is perfect,” he stalked closer.
“P-perfect?” Kiri felt his face heat up.
“Yeah. Edgy. And it’s your words anyways, well mostly.”
Bakugou found the file on his phone and showed the raven-haired teenager. Kiri skimmed the lines. The bones of the lyrics were the same, the darkness and angst he was always feeling still lived in the lines, but then there was something else.
Bakugou added fight. Every complaint or struggle ended with a “Well fuck it I’ll find a way to win anyways.” It was inspiring in a way, but it wasn’t Kiri.
Not yet.
“I can’t sing this. Sorry,” he handed the paper back and tried to gather his things before the blond protested.
“Bullshit. Are you just gonna sit back and let your life suck?” That stopped Kiri in his tracks.
He used to fight. It had gotten him nowhere. It was easier to let things be.
“Easy for you to say...”
“Sure it is. But do you think I’d stop kicking ass if our lives were switched?” Kiri met determined eyes and knew the answer. “Whatever. Give me your phone. I’ll send you the other tracks we’re working on and then you can decide if you can or ‘can’t’ sing for us,” Bakugou sent himself a text. “And if your parents or whoever gives you shit, they’ll answer to me.”
“They’ll never let me with my grades.”
“Then get a tutor.”
“I can’t afford—“
“SHUT UP! God. Fine. I’ll text you my address and I’ll drill this shit into your brain Tuesdays and Thursdays. And then we practice music. Deal?”
“I...” he sweated from both apprehension and the fire Bakugou radiated. Now was not the time to get distracted. His phone dinged.
“Later, then.”
Kirishima had to make a decision. He mulled over it for a few days since he had the weekend. He got the courage up to tell his Ma that he found a free tutor and got an ounce of pride from her.
His last test had gone much better than usual since receiving Bakugou’s detailed notes. He actually thought this might work out— until he saw the Bakugou house. No, scratch that, mansion.
He could feel his knees shake walking up to the door. His moms could barely afford to get him new shoes.
He nearly turns back, but he gets a call from “Bakugou, K.” The brash voice comes through the other end asking him where he is.
“I’m...” he sweats. “I’m here.”
“Get the fuck in here then.” The blond hung up. Kirishima made his way inside, greeted by a butler who took his jacket. The man led him upstairs to Bakugou’s room. He was already set up at a desk finishing his homework.
“Rest of the band will be here in an hour so hurry up.” Kirishima was quick to set up his stuff but was distracted by the clean room covered in punky band posters. A full drum set was set up in the corner as well.
Bakugou seemed to be in some kind of hurry. Kirishima guessed he was just trying to get to the music part. And in a way he was.
In fact, he was so quick to end their session that Kirishima was suspicious. But apparently, it was because Bakugou wanted to hear his voice on the mic by himself first.
Bakugou had sped-walked them to another large room, a recording studio. There was another set of drums plus dozens of other instruments lining the walls.
“Did you have a chance to listen to the songs I sent you?” Bakugou asked while adjusting one of the microphones and offering a pair of headphones.
“I did. It was really good. My favorite was the song about starting a riot.”
“Mine too. We’ll start there.” Bakugou set up an iPad to show the lyrics before heading into the booth. “Don’t look so terrified,” Bakugou said into Kiri’s headphones. Kiri couldn’t help it though. The only one who knew his voice was his old guitar. The music started and Kiri tried to remember when the lyrics should start. He started quietly much to Bakugou's disappointment. But the first chorus made Kirishima forget where he was.
To say Kirishima bloomed when he got lost in his music was an understatement. And Bakugou wanted to see more. Bakugou was mesmerized. Kiri’s fight flared and his gritty voice matched the tone. It was a perfect mix of slate and glass. Clean but rough. Clear but powerful. He couldn’t remember how Jirou had sung it exactly, but it didn’t matter. Kirishima’s voice paved the way. The aggressive loud sounds of his home had made him so quiet. The pressure to not disappoint his parents even further made him feel so small.
The version of Kirishima these days was muted.
But Bakugou was turning up the volume.
The others arrived on the second chorus and stood in the doorway awestruck by the newcomer belting out lyrics about rebellion and riots. Bakugou was quick to wave them away. He didn’t want Kiri distracted.
But Denki tripped loud enough for Kiri to hear and stopped, mortified that he had an audience.
“Oi! Ignore them and keep going!!” Bakugou insisted, feeling his new singer slipping away.
Kiri opened his mouth to say something but words didn’t come. He looked at Bakugou pleadingly and shook his head.
“Fuck,” Bakugou sighed.
“Fine, everyone just get set up,” Bakugou commanded. Kiri rushed to the back of the room out of the spotlight. Bakugou called Jirou in and handed her headphones. Her eyes lit up in awe and she made eye contact with Kiri.
Bakugou had been recording. Bakugou didn’t play it for anyone else and Jirou didn’t mention it. She merely gave him a small smile before taking her place at the front. Bakugou kept pushing Kiri to join, to sing or at least play guitar, but he refused. He was utterly embarrassed and Bakugou was pissed.
Kiri ducked out before their last song but the angry blond caught up before he exited the house.
“You’re going to sing for me,” he said determined.
“I can’t. Sorry—“
“We made a deal.”
“It’s too much pressure and I sound horrible—“
Bakugou grabbed his arm and held him in place.
“You sound fucking perfect, damn it! How do I get that through your thick skull!!”
“I dunno, ‘m sorry...” he dipped his head further.
Bakugou released him and watched him go.
He brewed on an idea. If the guy didn’t believe he was good, maybe he’d change his mind if an audience said otherwise. He stayed up late mixing a new version of their song with the newly recorded audio of Kiri. They were supposed to take a few minutes during the announcements the next morning about an upcoming concert and play a sample. It was the perfect opportunity.
At least that’s what Bakugou thought.
“Oi! Come watch us play at the DynaMight nightclub this Friday!" Bakugou's gruff voice sounded from the school speaker system. "We fu— uh, freakin' rock!!” Kirishima could see the blond’s pixelated face on the screen. Even low res, he was so handsome. “We’re also working on getting a new singer to join our band.”
Kiri’s heart started to rattle his rib cage with how hard it pounded. Surely he wouldn’t call him out in front of their whole school. The room felt hot and he was already sweating through his thin black v-neck.
“Let Kirishima know how sick he sounds!!” Bakugou hit play on his phone and the new mix started to play. Kirishima was having trouble breathing. He hated attention. He hated his voice. Was this a sick prank??
As if the whole school didn’t already think he was a freak, now they’d have another thing to shove in his face. Fuck! Kiri pulled his hood on and tried to drown out the sound.
“Wait is that that emo kid?”
“No way! I’m not sure I’ve ever even heard him talk.”
“When did they become friends? Kirishima-Kun is always alone...”
Kirishima stood up abruptly and went to the teacher to ask for a hall pass. She must have seen how sick he looked since she rarely gave out hall passes during homeroom. He broke into a jog in the hall and locked the bathroom door behind him.
He should have known the gorgeous asshole was just gonna pull some kind of stunt on him. Kirishima felt panicked and nauseous. Bakugou on the other hand was fired up. He was sure the new sound was going to bring in new people. And he bet everyone in school was gonna tell Kiri how amazing his voice was! The nervous kid was gonna be blushing and smiling all day! Bakugou was so smart. And yet, he couldn’t even catch a glimpse of the shadowy boy all day. Maybe he didn’t see the announcements? Maybe people didn’t know his name well enough to give him the compliments he deserved...
He was bummed he didn’t get to see his new uh ‘student’ celebrating the awesome thing he’d done. He trudged out of the school once the final bell rang. Only then did he catch sight of the dark blur.
“Oi! Kirishima! Wait the fuck up!!” He yelled. Kirishima turned like a deer in headlights. He wanted to run but Bakugou was surely faster.
“What do you want?!” Kirishima asked through gritted teeth.
“Did you see the announcements? People fucking—“
“Of course I saw the announcements?! Did you think it was funny? Did you and all your friends get a good laugh making fun of me like that??” Bakugou finally noticed the puffy redness of the other’s eyes.
“If you'd let me talk, I was in the middle of saying people fucking loved you,” Bakugou crossed his arms and stood his ground.
“Yeah right. Go play someone else,” Kiri started to turn away.
“Fuck,” Bakugou made a revelation. “You actually believe that you could only be on stage to get laughed at.”
Kiri let out a dry laugh.
Obviously.
“I’ve got my damn work cut out for me huh. You’ve got the potential to be a fucking star but you’re gonna chose to hide under this blanket of insecurity.”
“You don’t get it...” Kiri whispered hoarsely.
“But I do get it!! Kyo was the same fucking way, and now she can’t wait to be in the spotlight singing her heart out. I did this to prove you wrong and show you your potential, but you’re wrapped up tighter than I thought.”
“What are you trying to say.”
“Don’t give up. I can help you find your voice. I'll prove that it’s way too good to keep quiet. I swear, it’s really fuckin... goddamnit, it’s beautiful okay? Believe me now?!” Bakugou growled, embarrassed.
“Wh-what???” Kirishima sputtered with a blush. There was the look Bakugou was searching for all day.
“Just say you’ll be at the next practice,” now he was getting bashful rubbing the back of his neck. But he wanted to show Kiri that stepping into the uncomfortable, the vulnerable was worth it sometimes. Kiri chewed on his lip.
“Do you wanna hide forever?” Bakugou asked sincerely.
“No,” Kiri said softly.
“You can stay on guitar for now. Deal?” Kirishima sighed. This guy always knew how to get to him.
“Fine.”
“Fucking finally,” Bakugou rolled his eyes dramatically.
“Won’t be hearing my ‘beautiful’ voice again though,” teased with a shy smile.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP I SAID THAT FOR YOU—FUCKING—FUCK OFF, ASSHAT!!! I TAKE IT BACK! YOU SOUND LIKE A BROKEN GARBAGE DISPOSAL—“
Bakugou stopped himself when he saw the other not only smiling but laughing. His eyes were squeezed shut and pure joy radiated from him despite his earlier sadness. It really was beautiful—but he certainly wasn’t going to make the mistake of telling him that again.
Kirishima continued to show up to band practice for the next few weeks. He stayed on guitar but quickly fell in line with the rhythm of the band. Bakugou even caught him mouthing the lyrics a few times. Bakugou felt like the dark-haired boy’s confidence was growing but it was hard to tell just how much. They were building toward a small show at a small show in a friend’s basement. Bakugou booked it as a good starter for Kiri.
Once he got on the stage, Bakugou was sure he’d get addicted to their special brand of live music.
He checked in a few times to see if Kiri was ready and simply got a few shrugs. He was hard to read, but Bakugou had to believe. He’d heard it for himself that Kiri didn’t want to give up.
So on the night of the gig, Bakugou was sweating when Kiri didn’t show up 20, 15, 5 minutes until show time... Bakugou was furious. They took their places on the stage. The lights felt jarringly familiar. It was just a small local show, but the stage was always Bakugou’s favorite roller coaster. Jirou introduced them and then counted off. Bakugou had incredible rhythm and today was no different, but his simmering rage was apparent to the rest of his bandmates. He let the frustration fuel his beats. He even let his drum solo go in a little long in their second song, but the crowd loved it. At the end of it though, he stomped off the stage without the others.
He panted and felt his skin starting to cool while he searched for Kiri’s number. He exited the building while the dial tone sounded. He leaned against the cool brick and waited.
“I can’t talk...” Kirishima answered. His voice was soft and coated in worry.
“The fuck?! You bail and then can’t talk??”
“I’m...” Did his voice sound raw? “I got grounded.”
“What? Why??” Bakugou’s tone dipped into concern. “One of my moms found my last report card.”
“From before tutoring.”
“Yeah.” He sounded so defeated.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“Is that Kiri??” Kaminari rounded the corner.
“Yeah, fuck off,” Bakugou turned away as if the conversation was private.
“Is he all right? Tell him we were worried about him!”
“He got grounded now scram!”
“Fine, fine.”
“Bakugou?” Kiri asked quietly. “Yeah.”
“Sorry.”
“Shut up,” he said with no bite.
“I am—“
“Just stop. You owe me an extra practice. Come over tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” Kiri asked, fully expecting that at any moment Bakugou would just move so he could stop dealing with his issues.
“I don’t give up, remember?”
“Sor—“
“If you say sorry one more time I'm gonna walk to your house and punch you!”
“You don’t know where I live,” he laughed softly.
“I could fuckin find out!”
“I believe you. I’ll try,” Kirishima's voice sounded more cheerful. It was a good sound.
“You need to experience a live show. It’s a fucking drug.”
“So you still had a good time?”
It wasn’t something people asked of Bakugou often.
“Yeah, I did. But we the sound was missing something.”
“Some rhythm guitar?” Kiri joked. Every laugh out of the emo teen was like a shot of alcohol. Exciting. Intoxicating. Dizzying. It made Bakugou want to push his boundaries.
"Some of your dark-ass energy,” Bakugou replied. “We need to—“
“Shit!” Kiri whispered. “I gotta go, sorry!!” Then the line went dead. He didn’t have time to berate him for the apology.
One battle down. Plenty more to go.
They were able to fall back into their routine after the hiccup. Kirishima was of course allowed to go to tutoring— though there were some days Bakugou rushed it so they could play together. Bakugou tended to get antsy and irritated when he got excited for practice. He was getting addicted to the record-player quality of Kirishima’s vocals and the deep world hidden by overgrown bangs. But Bakugou didn’t push him at the next show to sing. Didn’t even mention it.
And it worked. Kiri bobbed his head as his fingers danced on steel strings. When the beat dropped he grinned at their feral drummer, already soaked in sweat.
Bakugou’s eyes were saying, “See? I told you.”
Their third show coincided with a big house project Kiri’s parents were planning. They needed his help moving things around after school so Kiri wasn’t sure he would make it. Bakugou wasn’t going to have it though and proceeded to follow Kiri home that day. “You really don’t have to do this,” Kiri whispered.
“Fuck off, Inkblot. I don’t go back on my word.”
They entered the small home and already heard fighting.
“I finally get a day off and you’re asking me to work!”
“We decided this was going to be best for all of us!”
“Did you have to plan it after two months of overtime?!”
“I’m Bakugou,” the blond interjected.
“Oh… we weren’t expecting company...” his mom said.
“Sorry,” Kirishima said quickly, “he wanted to help.”
“We can’t pay you,” his Ma said skeptically.
“I don’t need money. I need Kirishima to be free by 7 pm.”
“I’m not sure we will be done by then—“
“That’s why I’m here. Where do we start?”
Kirishima would forever be in awe of how talented Bakugou was at everything he did, even on his first try. Once he knew what they had to do, he got them all organized doing their parts. This time, his moms were the quiet ones.
They were all shocked to be done by 6:30.
“Perfect, let’s go and try to get in a few warm-up songs,” Bakugou said.
“Eijirou,” Ma said. “What is it that you’re going to anyways?”
They still didn’t know.
They still didn’t know?!?
“It’s just a club thing, I’ll be back before 9–“
“He’s in a band. With me,” Bakugou corrected.
“A band? Is that a good use of your time?” Ma asked.
“Why don’t you come see yourself?” Bakugou answered with a flyer in his hand. “I’m not sure, I mean we have a lot left to do—“ Kiri’s Mom said.
“It’d be worth your time,” he replied, staring at Kiri, letting his words sink in. As if Kiri didn’t have enough reason to be nervous, his moms might show up to see his secret hobby, one they had always discouraged. He played the songs over and over in his head and tried to stay focused.
Before they set up, Bakugou pulled Kiri back and smashed their foreheads together.
“Tonight, this is your stage.”
Kiri looked determined. He gave a small nod in response.
“I can do this,” Kiri responded. The raven-haired boy looked completely different like this and it suited him.
Bakugou started to pull away but Kiri stopped him.
“A-and thanks for not giving up on me. You’re kind of the most amazing person I’ve ever met.” Part of his lesson, he guessed, was being able to wear his heart on his sleeve. The blond grinned in response even through a subtle blush.
“And you’re my star. Let’s go blow some fuckin’ minds.”
The stage is starting to feel familiar now. He expects the need to adjust to the bright lights and the heat coming from them. He pays less attention to the dozens of faces staring at them from the crowd and makes sure his friends (friends!) are in their places.
He took his place on the far side of the stage. There’s already a mic set up for him.
I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.
Bakugou yelled into his mic to pump up the crowd and make sure every person there knew their name. He counted off and the group surged into their first song with force. Kyouka’s voice was as powerful and beautiful as their sound soared. She took the mic from the stand and sang her heart out. Denki was headbanging along and Katsuki furiously held his perfect tempo. The songs were starting to feel like muscle memory at this point. Being able to play together in sync and create a sound so much bigger than each of them could on their own... it was a high Kirishima could get used to.
He still felt nerves twisting around in the pit of his stomach for what he knew was coming.
The last song on their set list for the night was Unbreakable.
Bakugou introduced it as being co-written by their newest guitar player.
“Give it up for Eijirou,” he said. Kiri hardly heard him over the pounding in his ears. “Hey!” Bakugou yelled with his mic now muted.
Kiri looked back and remembered their shared determination. Bakugou counted off for him. The blond had added to the intro so Kiri could feel the song before he started to sing. He was always taken back a little when he heard his voice through the speakers. He wanted to sit and criticize himself, but these were his words—at least partially. His words were about “failing grades” and his “hurricane home.” Before he sang Bakugou’s words he wondered if his moms were there. Would they scoff at his attempt at strength? Or would they even be proud of his newfound drive?
Kirishima poured his heart into Bakugou’s next lines. He wanted to believe them.
“Instead of resigning to the quiet and unstable
I’ll become someone who’s utterly unbreakable!”
This was who he wanted to be. The road here was full of vulnerability and awkwardness but Bakugou was so willing to push through it all. All he had to do was be himself and try.
When he was brave enough to look out over the crowd, they were as into it as he was. If he could do this, get up in front of a group of strangers and sing his heart out about his struggles and weaknesses, what couldn’t he do? He needed to thank Bakugou. A hundred times, a thousand times. He was growing. He was finding reasons to press on. He bellowed out the chorus and his heart swelled.
“And then I was told
That what I’ve deserved
Is to take up space
Is to be heard”
These words meant everything. He didn’t see it, but Bakugou was grinning proudly behind him. The kid was gonna be all right. Whether they kept up with the band or not, he had someone in his corner who believed in him. Maybe even a few people.
By the last line of the song, a tear streaked down his face. When he first read it, he outright said he couldn’t sing it. But now he could repeat it over and over until the song faded.
“I will not stay quiet.”
//end//