bnha oneshots (vol 1)

004 ⋆ fleeting whispers 🌸

ship: kiribaku

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Bakugou stared at the crunched pieces of plastic on his dorm room floor. It wasn't just any plastic, though.

It was his hearing aids.

How the fuck did they manage to get on his floor when he could've sworn he left them on his night table? Did someone sneak into his room to chuck them on the floor? Did they suddenly grow legs and hop off the night table themselves? Maybe the phone sporadically vibrating across his nightstand could be to blame, for the device itself inched closer to the point of a suicide dive off the edge. He huffed and cursed under his breath as he snatched up his phone to see who was about to fall victim to blame. "Idiots," he murmurs at the continuous flow of text notifications filling the window. He was in another group chat with his so-called 'friends' despite the fact he's left the dozens of other chats they tossed him in for this exact same reason.

It was late in the morning, a quarter to ten of this week's Saturday, and here these idiots were blowing up his phone about something that probably wouldn't matter to the ashen blond grump. A simple "what the fuck" was all he texted after skimming through the text log.

Stupid Pikachu
Blasty's up!

Tape Face
I thought demons only came out between midnight and 3am

Shitty Hair
Bakugou!!

No surprise that the redheaded idiot was already at his door before the blond could say anything more. He could barely hear his knocks, and his voice was just as dulled when Bakugou snatched the door open and snapped, "What the fuck do you want." Kirishima beamed at him, unfazed by his attitude as per usual, half his shitty hair pulled up into a loose ponytail. Bakugou's eyes fell to his lips as they moved and he hardly registered the sound of his own name. Flickering his eyes to amicably warm crimson, he tilted his head, probably accidentally yelling, "What did you say?" Kirishima's smile falters a bit, his brows upturned as he motioned his ear.

Ah, right.

Bakugou turned and led him towards the crime scene. "This is all your fault," he gestures with a frown and quick motions of his hands, and thank the heavens that the redhead had taken the time to learn sign language because he signed back, "How sway?" almost immediately with a slight chuckle. Bakugou wags a finger at his phone--the accomplice to said crime.

"Your stupid group chats; my phone vibrated and knocked them off my dresser."

The phone chittered and lit up teasingly. Kirishima pouted. "You want me to buy you new ones?"

Bakugou hesitates. Kirishima smiles and motions, "I'll be right back," and then leaves without giving any context. Maybe Bakugou should've followed after and asked him what he meant. Bakugou goes to the bathroom instead, kills his germs with a vengeance while glaring at his own foggy reflection. His hair was weighted with water, skin damp, a towel wrapped around his waist, and maybe he should've locked his door; maybe he should've gotten dressed as soon as he came back into his room. Kirishima's face was dusted a healthy shade of pink when Bakugou turned around. "I should've knocked. Sorry," he manages to say despite the small box cradled in his hands.

The blond was almost tempted to say, "It's not like you haven't seen it all before," but instead he fishes for some shorts in his drawer and clothes himself. Beads of water still drip from his hair, so he drapes his towel over his head and signs, "So where did you go?"

"I got you new hearing aids!"

Oh?

Bakugou sits on the edge of his bed. Kirishima sits next to him, knee pressing into the soft fat of the blond's thigh, and something about the subtle contact made his cheeks feel warm. The redhead peels open the box and fumbles with the plastic wrappings and such until the aids are situated in the palm of his hand. They were different than the ones issued to him by their school nurse; smaller and orange--his favorite color. Bakugou let him fix them onto his ear, partially because he wanted more of that sweet physical contact, but also because he was already set on doing it anyway. His fingers gingerly brushed against the cartilage of the blond's ear, his index scratching into his scalp to tuck back a particular tuft of hair. Red spiky hair and tanned skin filled the entirety of his vision; a canine tugged at the corner of his flushed lips.