The lost continent

Chapter 22

When Kirishima looks back at him, it doesn’t break his heart. It shatters it. Annihilates it. There’s a hole there now that sucks in every bit of pain and festers it within him. Bakugou turns away. It was for the best.

He avoids Mina’s angered stare and stomps towards his quarters to lock himself in and work on removing Kirishima entirely from his memory. The only way to be safe, to avoid pain, was to avoid vulnerability. Bakugou was one of the fucking strongest pirates on these seas, and he wasn’t going to let a shitty noble get in the way of it.

He sits at his desk, frowning at the papers. At least he can fucking read, now. He buries himself into his charts and maps and mulls over the riddles of the journals until the letters start to swim before his eyes like they’ve fallen into the sea.

He stands and tries not to think about the emptiness of his room. He tries not to think about Kirishima as he sheds his clothes, but a glance on the bed has him see the hair ribbon he gave him, thrown on top of the furs. He frowns and growls, snatching it away and throwing it to the ground.

He growls again when he finds his bed smells like Kirishima, and 1001 Arabian Nights still sitting on the bedside table.

He closes his eyes tight, and wills himself to think of nothing at all.

Even Bakugou himself can tell he’s snapping at everyone more than usual. Mina gives him shit for it, and it’s hard to ignore her, but he manages. They’d get over it soon enough. He’d get over it soon enough.

He sighs with an angry huff and moves the papers on his desk. He has to concentrate. There was only one journal left, and Bakugou knows it’s the twin journal he left with the godforsaken Kirishimas. He thinks though, that only one less should be enough to figure out the pieces on his own. He was bright. If he failed, he’d just return with expendable crew. After all, Endeavor reached far enough into the island to destroy it, and he happened upon it by luck and rumours, and of course a few stolen glimpses at Bakugou’s maps. He’d learned to keep them much safer, since then.

He shifts some papers and fancy writing catches his eye- his heart gives a pang that actually leaves him winded, and he stands up fast in anger.

He curses. How weak was he to let someone- a chance ransom, at that- affect him so much? Pathetic.

He sits down again. He has to concentrate. He has to push Kirishima from his mind.

When he’s finally exhausted himself with strategizing, he drags his feet over to his bed. He strips and falls onto his furs.

The whole bed still smells like him.