Chapter Text
Eijirou stares at his email in dismay. His latest Physics unit test greets him with a bright red thirty. Hakamada had sent him an additional message, reading, “Come see me after class.”
“I’m so fucked,” he says, grabbing Kaminari’s arm. “Dude, seriously, this isn’t funny—I’m gonna lose my acceptance, which means I won’t get to go to university, and I’m never going to amount to anything, and when people come over they’re going to ask my mom what her son’s doing with his life and she’s going to have to say what son? I don’t have one, because she’ll have disowned me.”
“Okay, calm down, it can’t be that bad.” Kaminari takes one glance at his grade and blanches. “Wow. Yikes. How did you even get that?”
Eijirou wails. “I don’t know! I’ve been studying, man, I did the review, I go to every class, I take notes—I really thought I got at least a B!”
“You can make it up,” Kaminari says, after a moment. “What is this, circular motion? There’re, like, three units left, right? You just need to lock in, man.”
“I’ve tried locking in,” Eijirou says, shoving his phone in his pocket. “What do I even do? I need this class.”
Kaminari frowns, thinking. “You only need one science, right? Why don’t you take Bio or Chem?”
“Tried,” Eijirou says despondently. He’d talked to the guidance counselors after his first damning Physics grade. They’d politely, and not without sympathy, informed him that the Chemistry classes were all full and that the only available Biology slot conflicted with his Phys. Ed class. Besides, at this point in the semester, it’s way too late to switch.
“I’m sorry, man,” Kaminari says, patting his shoulder. “Hey, maybe… maybe Hakamada is calling you into his class because he made a mistake, and wants to tell you about the regrade?”
“With my luck, the regrade’s gonna be a twenty,” Eijirou mumbles. “Scratch that, it’ll be a zero. I’ll be the first student in Yuuei’s history to not get a single question right on a Physics test.”
“Probably not the first,” Kaminari says, trailing off. He winces at Eijirou’s withering glare. “Right. Not helpful. I see that now. I… well, my offer to tutor you is always still on?”
Eijirou takes a deep breath, and tries not to smack Kaminari upside the head. He’s just trying to be helpful. “Thanks. I’ll let you know after I talk to Hakamada.”
It’s not that Kaminari is bad at physics. He is, in fact, very, very good at physics. He got a one hundred in the class—when he took it one whole year early. When he goes off to university for electrical engineering in the fall, it’s all he’s going to be doing.
The problem is this: Kaminari has this weird, genius way of doing physics that, while effective in garnering him perfect marks, is just about impossible to explain to anyone not on his level. The one time he’d tried tutoring Eijirou had ended in an arm wrestling match that had sprained Kamarini’s wrist and broken the centerpiece of Eijirou’s dining table.
They stop in front of Hakamada’s class. The door is ajar. From inside, Eijirou can hear sparse chatter over the test grades.
“My life is over,” Midoriya bemoans. “I got a ninety-two! My average is tanked! Do you think he’ll let me make it up for extra credit?”
Eijirou refrains from throwing himself out of the hallway window. It’s not Midoriya’s fault they have different standards for themselves.
“You’ll be okay, man,” Kaminari says, clasping his shoulder. “Stay strong, okay? Hakamada’s not an asshole. If anything, he’s going to want to talk to you to help.”
Eijirou steels himself. “Yeah, okay.”
He walks in, eyes trained on the tiled floor, praying no one stops him to ask how he did on the test. He knows, logically, that no one could know. Still, in his head, it feels a little like they’re all staring at him, pointing and laughing at his undeniable idiocy.
And then, in a wicked turn of events, the room does actually go quiet.
“Look who showed up!” Monoma crows.
Eijirou feels his blood go cold. Aren’t the grades private? Even if they aren’t, it’s not like Hakamada would put his name beside it. Right? He lifts his head, ready to glare at Monoma—
“On time? Is the clock broken?”
“Hey, Bakugou, you know we have the whole period left, right? Not just five minutes?”
Eijirou’s shoulders drop in relief. It’s fine, then. It has nothing to do with him. It’s just—
Wait. Bakugou’s actually here?
He almost trips getting into his seat, trying to take a look. It’s for nothing—because Bakugou just rounds his chair to slide into his seat, flush beside Eijirou.
Bakugou never comes to class. He comes in for assessments—which, between the quizzes and tests, rounds out to about once a week. Eijirou isn’t sure how that’s allowed, but Bakugou hasn’t been kicked out, yet, so he must have some agreement with Hakamada. Maybe he’s blackmailing him. Maybe Hakamada is just scared Bakugou will beat him up if he confronts him.
“Hey, Knockoff,” Bakugou calls, grinning lazily at Monoma. “How’d you do on the test?”
Eijirou chokes, hastily covering his mouth with his fist. Monoma had brought in a counterfeit Louis Vuitton backpack one time. He isn’t even sure how Bakugou had known it was fake—but, ever since, he’s been referring to him exclusively as “Knockoff.” Honestly, it’s possible Bakugou’s forgotten Monoma’s actual name.
“Better than you,” Monoma says snidely.
Bakugou raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, I would hope so.”
The class giggles. Monoma’s jaw twitches. He looks pissed off—but really, what is there to say in response to that? Congratulations, you did better on the test than the guy who doesn’t even show up for class. Should everyone throw a party? Should Eijirou invite Oppenheimer?
Monoma looks like he’s gearing up to say something—some insult centered around Bakugou’s general clothes, demeanour, or known nicotine addiction—when Hakamada walks in, closing the door behind him and inducing a class-wide silence.
“Good morning, everyone,” he says briskly. “Requests for a regrade must be emailed only. Additional questions about the test must also be emailed. We have a lot of material to get through before finals, and I want to keep us on track.”
Eijirou pulls out his notebook for the lesson, sighing. It’s more of a formality, at this point. Clearly, none of his efforts actually matter.
At the end of the class, Hakamada clears his throat. “Kirishima and Bakugou, stay behind, please.”
This is a class of entirely upper years. This does not stop them from ooh ing like they’re seven years old at a call from the principal.
Eijirou defeatedly stuffs his notebook and pencil case in his backpack. Bakugou does not do the same—because he hadn’t even bothered taking them out. Right.
Maybe Eijirou should just follow in his footsteps. Just stop caring, even a little bit. It seems to be serving Bakugou well. He doesn’t look like he’s about to have a panic attack at the thought of talking to his teacher.
He walks to the front of the class, hands deep in his pockets. Bakugou follows him. Even his footsteps sound… anti-institution.
“Kirishima,” Hakamada says. His voice is… soft. Not accusatory. He doesn’t say why are you such a fucking idiot. He doesn’t say I’ve never seen a student as incompetent as you. He just says Eijirou’s name quietly, like he has no ill will towards him at all.
Eijirou looks up at him, startled.
“I see you during class,” Hakamada says gently. “I see the work you put in. Physics is hard for everyone.”
Eijirou stares at the ground. His eyes sting. Sure, it’s hard for everyone, but everyone else is still managing to pass.
“Bakugou is at the top of our class,” Hakamada says. “He’s agreed to tutor you, in exchange for a glowing letter of recommendation that makes up for his abysmal attendance.”
Eijirou’s head snaps up.
What?
“At the top of the class?” Ashido repeats. “ Bakugou?”
“You probably heard wrong,” Sero says, looking baffled. “Like, Bakugou is tutoring you because he’s going to fail if he doesn’t. Considering, you know, he never comes to class.”
“Why would he get another failing student to tutor me?” Eijirou argues. “Isn’t that counter-productive?”
“Maybe it’ll cancel out,” Kaminari suggests. “Like BEDMAS.”
“Wow, Kaminari,” Eijirou says, beaming at him. “I can’t believe this is the brain that they’re trusting to design our nation’s circuits.”
“Hey, it makes more sense than Bakugou secretly being a good student this whole time,” Kaminari defends, putting his hands up.
“So, how’s this going to work?” Ashido asks, leaning forward. “Did you guys set a time, a date…”
“Did he just say yes to get Hakamada off his back?”
“No!” Eijirou shakes his head. “He, uh… He actually asked for my number?”
Kaminari’s water bottle slips out of his hand. “He what?”
Sero blanches. “And you gave it to him?”
“Well, of course I did, he asked! I mean, it would have been rude not to, right? Besides, you guys are acting like this is weird—if he’s tutoring me, he needs my number, doesn’t he?”
His friends don’t seem impressed.
“Whoa, I come at a bad time?” Eijirou smiles for real, then, resting his head against his boyfriend’s stomach. Tomo grins down at him, smoothing his hair away from his forehead. “How was Physics?”
Eijirou groans. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Poor baby,” Tomo says, laughing. “Hey, you have a free period after lunch, right? Come hang out with me? Take your mind off kinematics.”
“We’re starting optics, now,” Eijirou says, shivering.
“We were actually going to the library for our free period,” Ashido says abruptly.
Tomo brushes his thumb across Eijirou’s cheekbone. “Yeah, I know you guys normally do, but I figure he needs a break. He’s been stuck in there so long, I haven’t seen my boyfriend in two weeks.”
That’s… kind of true. Eijirou’s been neglecting his relationship recently, and it’s obviously upset his boyfriend. This is just another way physics is ruining his life. Doing all that hadn’t even gotten him a decent grade.
“I’ll come with you,” he says, grabbing his stuff. He’ll just stay up studying, that’s all. He still doesn’t know when his first tutoring session is, or even if Bakugou’s even going to follow through, but, if he does, he wants him to know that Eijirou is really trying, at least.
“If you come back early, we’ll be in the library,” Sero says, waving at him.
“Thanks, man!” Eijirou shoots him a thumbs up. “Either way, I’ll see you guys at practice, right?”
“Yeah, man!”
“See you!”
They get into Tomo’s car. Tomo connects his phone to the speaker and queues up the playlist he’d made Eijirou in first year. He rolls the windows down, and the light breeze is a welcome respite from the horrors waiting inside the walls of high school.
“Where’re we headed, boss?” Tomo asks, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “My house? Food? You wanna just drive around?”
“Your house?” Eijirou suggests, yawning. He kind of wants to just take a nap until practice.
“What, so you can just sleep and ignore me?” Tomo laughs, grabbing his phone and tapping something in. “Yeah, okay. I’m a sucker, huh?”
“Are you putting in the address for your house?” Eijirou teases. “Are you really that directionally challenged?”
“I’m sorry, do you have another boyfriend with a beautiful car to drive you to his place?”
Eijirou giggles, conceding. They just relax for a bit, co-existing in comfortable silence as Tomo drives. Eijirou watches the trees pass by. Tomo’s thumb rubs over his knuckles.
He’s being really tactile, today. It’s not completely unlike him, but odd enough that Eijirou gives him a cursory side glance. Tomo’s just smiling, looking at the road ahead of him. Maybe he just woke up on the right side of the bed.
Or maybe , Eijirou thinks, feeling a little silly, he just missed his boyfriend, after not seeing him for a while.
“Hey, you got chapstick?” He asks. “I forgot mine, today.”
This is mostly true. His lips get really dry, and he had forgotten his at home. If it’s also a weak ploy to get Tomo to kiss him—well, Eijirou’s already dating him. He’s allowed.
“Yeah, in the dashboard—oh, wait—”
Eijirou stops.
There’s a small tube of peppermint chapstick in the dashboard—slotted in nice and neat beside a hot pink scrunchie.
Tomo’s mother exclusively wears her hair in a tight, low bun. He has no sisters.
“Hey, Tomo,” he says lightly. “Whose is this?”
Tomo’s entire body has gone tense. “My brother’s girlfriend’s. I keep telling him to stop leaving his shit in the car.”
“I thought you said you were the only one who drove this car.”
“Yeah, but he had to borrow it the other day. His was getting fixed.”
Come to think of it, Tomo hadn’t actually asked to hang out at any point during the last two weeks. Eijirou has the same free period every single day, but he’d never, not once, come up to him. It could be that he’d wanted to give him space before the test—but how would he know there was a test? Eijirou hadn’t mentioned it, and Tomo had thought he was still on the first unit, instead of the third.
Eijirou looks at him.
He’s an idiot a lot of the time when it comes to school, sure, but he’s always been good at reading people. If what Tomo was saying was true, he wouldn’t look like someone was holding a gun to his head.
“Let me see your phone,” he says quietly.
Tomo laughs. “What? No.”
“I’m being serious.”
“Eijirou, come on—”
“Just let me see your phone, what’s the big deal?”
“There’s no big deal, I just don’t like people going through my stu—”
Eijirou snatches his phone—and the crazy thing is, he doesn’t even have to unlock the thing, because there’s a notification right at the top.
what time is he leaving?
He reads it once, twice, three times, trying to make sure he isn’t messing it up, somehow. He wasn’t a great reader, in first grade. It took him ages to get through the list of words for the week.
But this is simple. Short words. Easy to understand.
“Who’s Reiko?”
Tomo’s jaw clenches. “She’s a friend.”
Eijirou laughs. “Right. A friend who, what, just happens to be waiting for me to leave your house before you invite her over? Let me guess, she wasn’t free during your break today, even though she usually is, and you just couldn’t be alone for that long?”
“What are you—” Tomo exhales harshly. His knuckles are white, clenching the black leather of the wheel. “You’re just making stuff up now! That doesn’t even—why would I—”
“How about this,” Eijirou says. “You pull over, and text her to come over right now. I love meeting your friends.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“And why’s that?”
Tomo sighs, like he’s the one being unreasonable, here. “Because I wanted for today to be just us, baby. I haven’t seen you in—”
“Two weeks, yeah, you said that already,” Eijirou says, narrowing his eyes. “But you never actually told me you missed me until today.”
He’d been so busy with school that he hadn’t been paying attention. He isn’t busy now, though. Thanks to Tomo, he’s focused.
Tomo pulls over. Someone honks at him. He ignores them. Turns in his seat, reaches across the console—Eijirou thinks he’s reaching for his hands, but he grabs the phone, and tucks it behind him.
“Look, Eijirou—”
“Oh my god,” Eijirou says. He can’t help but laugh. He must have missed a million red flags. He might actually be the stupidest person in the goddamn world. First physics, now this. Why not laugh? It’s funny. It’s hysterical.
“Don’t laugh,” Tomo says, looking concerned.
Eijirou can’t stop laughing. “Wow,” he says, wheezing as he unclips his seatbelt. “Man, you’re a piece of shit.”
Tomo’s shouting at him—as he opens the door, as he steps outside—but it’s white noise.
He’s maybe a forty minute walk from the school. Eijirou figures he’ll get a head start on the laps that Aizawa loves making them do, and breaks into a light jog.
Tomo can beg, and plead, and make his excuses all he wants. But when Eijirou runs, he doesn’t drive to follow him. Really, he can’t make it more obvious than that.
It starts raining about five minutes into his run, which is—just great, honestly. It’s not like Eijirou’s backpack is weighed down by all his books, and his laptop—it’s not like his uniform gets a bit see-through in the rain, and it’s definitely not like this is the last fucking thing that he needs today.
He slows to a depressed walk. He just doesn’t have it in him to keep running. If he’s lucky, the rain will stop soon. And if he’s not lucky—which seems likely—the locker room is stocked with towels.
Tomo’s probably dry in his house with his… whatever she is, right now. Girlfriend? Eijirou was second place this whole time, anyway. Maybe he’s the other woman.
He laughs. That was funny as hell. How could Tomo cheat on someone with his comedic ability? No taste, that’s for sure.
Or maybe Reiko’s even funnier. Maybe she’s prettier. Maybe she’s—smarter, and has more time for Tomo because it doesn’t take her forty-eight hours to gain a kindergartener-level understanding of one (1) physics concept.
A car rolls past him, slowing down almost mockingly. Eijirou resists the urge to flip them off—until the driver honks, and he really does whip around. That’s just uncalled for! He’s clearly going through something. Is it too much to ask, to not be ridiculed as he trudges to school in the pouring rain after 1) bombing a test and 2) getting cheated on?
The car actually pulls over. The passenger-side window rolls down—and Bakugou Katsuki stares at him from inside the—his—car.
Eijirou stares back.
“Need a ride?” Bakugou asks.
Eijirou laughs to himself. Yeah, why not. “Sure, thanks!”
He halfway thinks Bakugou’s going to lock the door as he reaches for it, and just zoom off, laughing at him—he’s seen him do that to a few of his friends. But Bakugou doesn’t. He just lets Eijirou into his car, eyes boring into him as he awkwardly buckles his seatbelt.
Eijirou doesn’t know what to say. He’s never actually had a conversation with Bakugou before. They don’t exactly travel in the same social circles—which isn’t actually an excuse, because Eijirou’s friends with everyone .
Bakugou just isn’t around much, that’s all.
He resolves not to be awkward. Bakugou’s just done him a huge favour. So what if he skips class to go smoke with his friends? So what if he makes a mockery out of the dress code? None of that impacts Eijirou directly. The thing that does impact him directly is Bakuugou being nice enough to tutor him, and that’s definitely more important than whatever he does in his free time. It’s on Eijirou, that they’re not already friends—but he decides they’re going to be.
“Thanks so much, man!” He says, smiling at him. “It’s brutal out there, I appreciate it.”
“No problem,” Bakugou says, lips lifting up in a smirk. “You looked pretty funny out there. I felt bad.”
“Wow, thanks,” Eijirou says. “Sorry for getting water all over your car.”
“It’s fine,” Bakugou says. “Where am I dropping you off?”
“School, if that’s okay? I have practice.”
“Even though it’s raining?”
“It’s weight training. Indoors.” Eijirou shivers. “Aizawa probably wouldn’t care if we were running drills, though.”
Bakugou tilts his head. “He gets results, though. You guys are top of the division, aren’t you?”
Eijirou blinks. “Yeah, we—yeah. I didn’t know you kept up with us?”
“They announce every one of your games on the announcements,” Bakugou dismisses.
Eijirou side-eyes him, trying not to grin. “Yeah, but how often are you in the building during announcements?”
“Hey.” Bakugou takes his eyes off the road just long enough to glare at him, but there’s no heat in it.
Eijirou laughs for real, then. “Are you following our Instagram account? Me, Kaminari, and Sero run it, and it’s the most followed sports team account out of the entire school!”
“How many do you have, like forty followers?”
“Two thousand!”
“Right.”
Eijirou doesn’t know if he’s teasing him or not, but either way, his honour’s on the line, here. He puts a lot of effort into their account, thank you very much! He’s pretty sure they’ve got some followers from neighbouring schools, too, because Yuuei’s student population tops out at seventeen hundred.
He digs out his phone—and Tomo’s calling him. He declines, quickly, and opens Instagram. Tomo calls him again.
Sighing, Eijirou quickly blocks his number, and pulls up their account.
Bakugou’s stopped at a red light, frowning in his direction. “Spam calls?”
“The worst,” Eijirou agrees, instead of explaining. “Anyway, here, look. See? I wasn’t lying! Two thousand and seventy five followers.”
“I didn’t think you were lying,” Bakugou says, even though he’d sounded pretty placating thirty seconds ago. “That’s… pretty impressive, actually. What do you post?”
“Lots of stuff! Stuff from practice—we do TikTok challenges too, sometimes, those do pretty well. And then just letting people know where we’re playing, how we did, upcoming games or tournaments, stuff like that.” He winks. “Y’know, just in case you miss it.”
“Why do you care if I show up or not?” Bakugou asks, rolling his eyes. “Not like it affects you.”
“I’m just kidding, man,” Eijirou says quickly, in case he’s accidentally offended him. “But, you know, in Physics—we’re supposed to be desk buddies, but you’re never there, so I’m all the way in the back by myself. It’s kinda lonely, that’s all.”
Bakugou snorts. “Yeah, okay.” When Eijirou doesn’t say anything, he glances at him. “Wait, you’re serious?”
Eijirou flushes. “...I mean, a little? I don’t really have any friends in that class.”
“That’s a lie,” Bakugou says immediately. “You’re best friends with everyone in that class.”
“I mean, I’m chill with them,” Eijirou admits. “We talk and stuff.” He scowls. “Not Monoma, though.”
Bakugou signals to turn into the school parking lot. He looks confused, and not just at the lack of proper driving etiquette from their classmates. “Monoma?”
Eijirou barks out a laugh. “Oh my god, I was right, you did forget his name—”
“He’s in our class?”
“Knockoff, man—”
“Oh, fuck off—”
“Hakamada calls attendance every day, how do you not—oh, right, because you abandon me—”
“We’re not even friends, how the hell am I abandoning—” Bakugou cuts himself off, making an exasperated noise as he backs into a parking spot.
“Too late, man,” Eijirou says, lightly punching him in the arm—once he’s parked, that is. “You’re tutoring me and you just saved me from the rain. We’re definitely friends, which means I’m going to be blowing up your phone every time you leave me to brave physics alone.”
“Do that and I’ll block your number,” Bakugou says flatly. “Have fun failing, asshole.”
Abruptly, Eijirou stops laughing. He swallows. Right. He’d come on too strong. He does that, sometimes. Some people—namely his best friends—said they’d liked it. Kaminari and him kind of bounce off of each other to create this high-energy supernova that’s the most fun Eijirou’s ever had.
But Bakugou is very clearly not like that, and if Eijirou chases him away, he really will be fucked.
“Sorry. I won’t actually—sorry.”
Bakugou turns to look at him abruptly. His eyebrows furrow. Eijirou doesn’t know what to do, where to look—so he just meets his eyes, hoping Bakugou can see his sincerity.
“I wouldn’t actually do that,” Bakugou says, after a minute. “I said I would tutor you, so I will.”
Eijirou nods, hesitantly. “Thanks. I really appreciate it, man, seriously. I’m… I’d be fucked, without your help.”
“Do you have class now?”
Eijirou shakes his head. “Nope! Free period, and then practice after. You?”
“I’m free,” Bakugou says. “You wanna go over today’s lesson?”
Eijirou squints. “Are you, like, actually free, or are you just skipping class to help me out? Because that’s super nice of you, but I’d still feel bad, y’know, ethically—”
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?”
“Show me your schedule and you can tutor me.”
Bakugou makes a noise like an elephant collapsing and unlocks his phone, swiping through his email, before he unceremoniously shoves his phone into Eijirou’s hands. “Look. See. Free period.”
Eijirou makes a big show of zooming in and examining every inch of the email. He’s kind of waiting for Bakugou to snatch his phone out of his hands, but he doesn’t—he just leans back in his seat, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
“Fine,” he says, finally handing it back. “You may tutor me before practice.”
“What a privilege,” Bakugou says flatly. “How will I ever repay you.”
They don’t go to the library. Bakugou leads him to an empty classroom, in the back of the school, and unceremoniously drops his bag on an errant chair.
Eijirou looks around warily. “You’re sure it’s fine for us to be here?”
“This is Usagiyama’s prep period,” Bakugou says. “She likes doing her prep work outside, though, or in the teacher’s room, or literally anywhere but here, so it’s fine.”
“Oh. How do you know that—wait, Bakugou, you can’t go through her stuff—”
Bakugou’s rifling through Usagiyama’s desk drawer. He liberates a few coloured erasable markers, and an eraser. “It’s fine. She’s friends with Todoroki’s older brother. Asked her if I could use her classroom to tutor you and she told me when it would be open.”
Oh.
That’s… really thoughtful.
All of a sudden, Eijirou feels guilty for assuming Bakugou would just do the bare minimum, if he even did that all. Here he’d been, organizing space for Eijirou.
“Not a library guy?”
“Too crowded.”
If Eijirou’s being honest, he likes this a lot more, anyway. Now that he knows they’re allowed to be here, he can relax, especially knowing that there’s no one around to hear how much help he needs.
“Alright,” Bakugou says, handing him a marker. “Show me what you got from today’s lesson.”
Eijirou gulps, and starts writing.
Bakugou is a stunningly good tutor. Something about the way he teaches Eijirou reinforces what he already knows—which is admittedly little—and simplifies new concepts.
After, Bakugou has him try out a few practice problems. Eijirou gets the first two wrong, and his shoulders slump—but Bakugou works through each of them and forces him to do a third, and—he actually gets it right.
Eijirou stares at the board. Turns to stare at Bakugou, like he’s going to suddenly drag the rug out from under him, and say no, dumbass, you mixed up your variables.
But no. Bakugou’s just nodding, like Eijirou’s actually followed the process and come out with a normal fucking number.
“Looks good.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Why would I lie about this.”
“It’s right? For real?” Eijirou bounces up on his heels, feeling a euphoria not unlike a runner’s high. “You’re not fucking with me? I got it right?”
“Explain what you did,” Bakugou says, ignoring him. “Every step. Why.”
Eijirou goes through it, stilted—explains the picture he’d drawn, and the ensuing calculations, the assumptions he’d made. He’d known what he was doing the whole way through. He hadn’t had to guess once.
“Is it all right?” He asks, once he reaches the end. “Even the uncertainty value?”
“How many times are you gonna ask me that?” Bakugou asks, but he doesn’t say it like he’s actually mad. “If you wrote this down on a test, you’d get full marks. It’s what I would do.”
“Oh my god,” Eijirou exclaims—and he can’t stop himself from bounding forward and hugging the crap out of Bakugou. “You’re a miracle worker, man! Thank you, thank you, thank you—”
“Whatever,” Bakugou says stiffly. Hugging him is a little like hugging a telephone pole until he stops standing like he has something lodged painfully far up his ass and relaxes, one hand awkwardly patting Eijirou’s back.
“Sorry,” Eijirou says, still hugging him. “I’m just—really grateful.”
“It’s fine,” Bakugou says, lightly shoving him off. “Don’t you have to leave for conditioning, now?”
Eijirou checks the clock. “Yeah, in a minute. Anything else, before I leave?”
“Finish up the rest of the practice problems for tomorrow. I’ll email you my notes, too, and you can annotate them. Are you free every day this week, same time?”
“I should be! I’ll let you know if I’m not. And it’s no pressure if you’re not, either.”
Bakugou nods. “Sounds good.” He opens the door then, holding it for Eijirou.
“Thanks, man! I’ll see you…” Eijirou trails off.
Tomo’s standing outside, face contorted in anger. “What the fuck?”
Bakugou looks confused. He looks at Tomo, then Eijirou. “What’s your problem?”
“What’s my—What’s my—You’re fucking unbelievable, you know that?” He’s glaring at Eijirou, words dripping in disdain. “You gave me all that shit for something you’d made up in your fucking head, and here you are actually—”
“He was tutoring me,” Eijirou says blandly. He doesn’t really have it in him to feel hurt, right now. Maybe later, when he’s alone in his room. Right now, riding off the high of actually being a decent student, he’s just annoyed. “Which you couldn’t do, because you flunked out of Physics last semester, remember?”
Bakugou wheezes. “Ouch.”
Tomo laughs. “He’s tutoring you? Really? That’s the best lie you could think of?” He tilts his head. “That’s pretty dumb, even for you.”
Eijirou pauses.
He can take a lot. He doesn’t get sensitive about critiques about his looks, or his playing skills, not anymore—he knows the first is irrelevant, and the second is unfounded. But his intelligence—
He knows he’s not the smartest. He’s not winning valedictorian anytime soon. But aside from this one class, he’s a solid student. He got accepted into university just fine. He has shadowing opportunities lined up. His teachers had no problem writing him complimentary recommendation letters.
Tomo’s just being mean. That doesn’t make it any easier to actually open his mouth and say something. Maybe he really is—
“For your information,” Bakugou says, “I was the one who asked him out, and I only did it after your bitchass left him to walk alone in the rain.”
Eijirou’s neck snaps so fast he almost gets whiplash.
Bakugou deftly loops one arm around Eijirou’s waist, hand slipping into the pocket of his slacks. It tucks Eijirou snug against his side, and it has the added bonus of making Tomo so angry his face turns red.
“I asked him out a few weeks ago,” Bakugou says, casually wrapped around Eijirou as if he hadn’t gone stiffer than an iron rod when he’d hugged him earlier. “He said no, because he was in a relationship.” He grins wickedly. “But then you decided to, well, you know… and he was up for grabs. Thanks for that, by the way. I was really considering just setting you up for possession with intent to distribute, so this was a lot easier.”
“Setting me up for—”
Eijirou can’t help it. He laughs, before clapping a hand over his mouth. That’s—not appropriate. Even though Tomo looks like he’d just bitten into a pair of used gym socks.
Bakugou turns to him, grinning. His eyes are bright, like he’s having fun with this. “If you’re done, I’m gonna take him to practice now, okay?”
He’s talking to Tomo. He is only looking at Eijirou.
Bakugou has a very… arresting gaze. When he looks at Eijirou, it’s hard to look anywhere else. Maybe it’s a good thing he doesn’t come to class. Eijirou can’t imagine he’d get a whole lot done.
He doesn’t wait for Tomo’s response—he doesn’t look like he’s saying anything, anyway, his mouth keeps opening and closing in a way that is reminiscent of a slowly dying fish—lightly tugging Eijirou forward with him, brushing Tomo out of the way with one shoulder.
Bakugou takes his arm away once they’re past the doors. “Sorry,” he says, all in one rush. Eijirou’s never seen him like this—awkward, averted eyes, looking ashamed. “That wasn’t cool of me, he was just being such a dick—”
“What? No.” Eijirou laughs, elbowing him. “Man, if anything I should be saying thank you. Did you see his face? That was so satisfying, holy shit. You were so smart, too, figuring out all that stuff that I never even told you.”
Bakugou shrugs. There’s a smudge of pink sitting atop his cheekbones. “It all added up. Him accusing you of that because you’d just caught him out—and you looking like a really sad abandoned dog on the side of the road made a lot more sense after—”
“I was not that bad—”
“Do you know how sad you have to look,” Bakugou says seriously, “to make me give a shit?”
Eijirou laughs, jostling him lightly. “Or maybe you’re just a nice guy?”
Bakugou laughs. He has a nice laugh—loud, and a little raspy. Eijirou feels warm just hearing it.
“But, seriously,” he says. “You saved me, like, three times today. I’m gonna start playing catch up, now, okay?”
“You don’t need to.”
“Nope, too late! I’m taking you out, whenever you’re free. Whatever you’re craving, my treat. Let me know, okay?”
Bakugou nods slowly, looking bemused. “Yeah, alright.” They loiter on the ground floor of the stairwell. “How are you getting home, after?”
“Huh? Oh, I normally walk.”
“You’re going to get sick. Do you not have an umbrella?”
“The rain’s probably gonna stop by then, it’s fine!”
Bakugou checks the back door. The glass is blurry, from the amount of rain coming down. “How long is practice?”
“Like an hour? Hour and a half?”
“Text me when you’re done.”
“Text—”
“You’re gonna be late,” Bakugou interrupts, checking his phone. “I’ll text you so you have my number.”
Before Eijirou can say anything else, Bakugou’s turning on his heel and leaving through the back door.
“Wow, everything okay?”
Eijirou looks up, blinking the sweat out of his eyes. “Sorry?”
“You just PR’d, man,” Kaminari says, leaning over the bar.
“I—what?” Eijirou deposits the bar, and sits up, counting the weights. That’s—wow. That’s definitely the most he’s ever pressed.
“I’m fine,” he says, a little shocked. Rewinds, then. “I mean, uh—I’m single, now. Tomo and I broke up. But I’m fine.”
“Oh, thank fuck,” Kaminari says. Sero kicks him, and he yelps, hopping away on one foot. “Sorry, sorry, I mean, aw man , I’m so sorry, I’m here for you, we all are.”
Eijirou bites back a grin. “That bad, huh?”
“To be honest, I just don’t think anyone’s good enough for you,” Kaminari says, shrugging.
Sero makes a face like someone’s shoved a slice of durian beneath his nose. “But he definitely wasn’t good enough.”
“I mean, I know you guys were friends for a while,” Kaminari says. “But he kind of… I dunno. I guess I just didn’t like the way he talked to you, sometimes.”
Eijirou bites his lip. “You guys never said anything.”
Sero rubs the back of his neck. “You seemed to really like him, so we thought we’d give him the benefit of the doubt. And we didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
Eijirou digests that. He probably wouldn’t have listened, even if they had said something. It makes him feel a bit shit, but they clearly aren’t upset at him for that, and it’s all in the past, anyway. What would feeling guilty do?
“You guys are good friends,” he says, after a moment. “Thanks.”
They both exhale, looking clearly relieved. Maybe they’d thought he would be mad at them, even though he’d been thinking the opposite. Eijirou can’t help smiling. He really loves his friends.
“Hey, did you guys get it on camera?”
“Yeah, you wanna see?”
Aizawa comes over to yell at them for being unfocused—but even he is grudgingly impressed by Kirishima’s achievement, which draws the attention of the rest of the team.
“That’s amazing, Kirishima!” Iida says, applauding.
“How’d you even do that?” Satou asks. “New pre-workout?”
“Satou, my friend,” Kaminari says, clasping his shoulder. “The hot new pre-workout is called a break-up, and it’s on track to being FDA-approved.”
“Wait, a breakup?”
“I’m so sorry, bro.”
“Good, you can do better.”
They all go quiet, and turn to stare at Aizawa, who, at that moment, strikingly resembles a man who hadn’t realized that he was actually speaking out loud.
Eijirou’s cheeks feel hot. “Uh… thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”
“We should all go out, after!” Aoyama says, pumping his fist. “A team dinner, on us. It’ll be okay, Kirishima!”
There’s a loud chorus of agreement.
Eijirou grins. “That’s really nice of you guys. But I’m fine, seriously. And…” Text me when you’re done. “And I think I might have plans?”
“Oh, wow,” Kaminari says, raising his eyebrows. “I see how it is. Good on you, man.”
“Wait, no, not like that—”
But it’s too late. The team apparently thinks Eijirou’s some kind of town harlot, and there’s a ridiculous amount of catcalling and whistling until Aizawa gets tired of them and orders everyone back to actual training.
The rain has not let up by the time practice is over. Eijirou had dutifully texted Bakugou, and had only gotten a thumbs up in response. Bakugou seems to like emojis. His first text had just been three of the eggs-in-a-bird-nest emoji. Eijirou resolves to ask him about that when he sees him.
“Tell me your plans aren’t with your dog-faced ex,” Tokoyami says quietly.
Eijirou chokes. Tokoyami really knows how to craft an insult. “What? No. Why would you…”
Because Tomo’s parked right in front, and walking out of his car. Great.
“Why are you still here?” Eijirou asks, exhausted. This isn’t a conversation he wants to have in front of his teammates.
“Just let me drive you home,” Tomo pleads. “It’s raining, I don’t want you walking.”
“I’m fine,” Eijirou says coolly.
It’s a little creepy how quickly Tomo switches between playing angry, defensive, and pseudo-ashamed. Maybe that’s par for the course, for being a cheater—having twenty different faces.
“Don’t be stubborn, I just don’t—”
“Hey, Tomo, buddy,” Kaminari interrupts, waving his hand. “Not that this isn’t sweet or anything, but he’s got, like, ten people to choose from if he needs a ride. You can leave.”
Tomo opens his mouth—and makes a noise that wouldn’t sound out of place coming out of a chew toy, as Bakugou yanks him back by the ear.
“Oh my god,” Sero says, sounding delighted.
“You’re not supposed to park in the kiss-and-ride,” Bakugou informs him, gleefully twisting his ear. “That’s two demerit points, you know that, right?”
“Why the hell is Bakugou a road safety shooter,” Kaminari mumbles. “He looks like he’s never used his turn signal in his life.”
“He’s pretty good about his turn signals, actually,” Kirishima says—right as Todoroki says, “He has strong feelings about turn signals.”
They stare at each other in silence, before turning back to Tomo, and Tomo’s ear, still firmly ensnared in Bakugou’s unforgiving grip.
“You’re also parked,” Tomo points out—and then winces, as he quickly discovers why it’s not a good idea to antagonize someone who has your ear crushed in their fist.
“Engine’s still running,” Bakugou says. “And I wouldn’t even be out here if you weren’t harassing my boyfriend.”
“Your what?” Kaminari squawks.
Todoroki’s analyzing gaze is burning into one side of Eijirou’s skull. Eijirou studiously ignores him. The only thing he’s looking at is Bakugou, who had raised his eyebrows just a little, just for Eijirou, like he was checking to make sure he was still okay with this.
Eijirou maintains that anything that keeps that look on Tomo’s face is entirely okay with him.
“He’s not your—”
“Except he is,” Bakugou says. “Hey, you ready to leave?”
“Super ready!” Eijirou says cheerfully. “You’re late.”
“I was on time,” Bakugou says, casually shoving Tomo off to the side. He stumbles into a pole. Bakugou briefly loses his composure at the collision sound, but contorts his face into a passable attempt at placidity. “I would’ve been right in front, but someone decided to abuse kiss-and-ride protocol.”
“I didn’t even know that was a thing,” Eijirou says. “You’re such a nerd.”
Bakugou lets out one of his raspy laughs, opening the passenger side door for Eijirou, before getting into the driver’s seat.
Eijirou can’t see properly through the rain-blurred window, but his phone is going insane, buzzing so much that it almost falls out of his lap.
“The door thing was a nice touch,” he says to Bakugou.
“You’re such a good fake boyfriend.”
“Thanks,” Bakugou says. “You should treat me to ice cream, for being so chivalrous.”
“You got it, man! Hey, can I guess your favourite flavour?”
“Sure.”
“Rocky Road?”
“No.”
“Bubblegum?”
“No.”
“Moose Tracks?”
“What the hell even is— No.”
It’s Cherry Garcia, because he’s a freak.
Eijirou tells him if there was a class on good taste, he would fail, and Bakugou promptly shoves his waffle cone into his face. Eijirou laughs so hard that he almost chokes on his peanut butter fudge, and Bakugou has to switch gears from cussing him out to whacking the shit out of his back.