Bakugou hates strawberries.
They’re messy and sticky, they rot way too quick, and they’re either way too sour or too sweet. He never understood why his mother would eat them so much.
He hates their color too, a sickly, too bright, red.
Whenever he mentioned it his father would always laugh, “Katsuki, your eyes are red.” He always snarls back, he is very aware that his eyes are fucking red.
His eyes are deeper red, but that’s not much better, they’re just like his mother’s. Bakugou hates his mother. Bakugou hates his eyes. Bakugou hates red.
Bakugou hates strawberries.
“Hah?” Bakugou whips his head over, staring at the girl with stupid ass ears.
“At Kirishima, again.”
“Am fucking not.” He spits.
Jirou hums, looking up from her phone, “You know he wants to be your friend right?” Her eyebrow is raised, she looks cocky, Bakugou can’t help the scoff that leaves his mouth, “Nobody wants to be friends with me.”
“I’m your friend.”
“By force. You’re only friends with me because of this dumb ass project.”
Jirou shakes her head, setting down her phone, “That’s not true.”
“So you’re saying if we didn’t have to do this project you would have sat with me?” Jirou doesn’t answer, only bites her cheek and picks up her phone, effectively ending the conversation. Bakugou’s deep glare drifts to the faded sticker on the purple case. It’s chipping at the top but he can still make out the basic shape of a strawberry.
Bakugou fucking hates strawberries.
Bakugou sits alone against a tree farther back on campus, hoping to get away from the idiots he now has to live with. It’s been almost two months of non-stop squealing, gossip, and too fucking close interactions.
He growls at the sound of footsteps.
Bright yellow and red come from around the corner along with the tape fucker trailing behind. They don’t see the scowling blonde from their spot against the wall. Hidden from anyone who wasn’t hiding in the trees with a book.
“You sure no one is gonna come back here?” Kirishima’s voice sounds, he’s leaned back against the wall with his legs folded, he looks unsure but not uncomfortable. “Why would anyone come back here?”
“Yeah man, I’ve smoked back here so many times.” Sero says calmly, messing with his bag, “No ones caught me.”
Bakugou rolls his eyes, of course, the idiots would come back there to smoke. They’re pretty quiet for about ten minutes before they start talking and don’t seem to plan on stopping.
“So how is your, befriend the ticking time bomb thing going?” Kaminari asks, blowing out smoke and passing it on to Kirishima, who takes it with a groan. “ Awful. He won’t even talk to me.”
Sero hums in sympathy, “How often do you actually see him?”
“All day. We have almost the same schedule and our dorms are in the same hall.” The redhead, passes over the joint, “The only time I don’t see him is when he runs off or goes to work.”
Bakugou stares at the trio, it’s getting dark, so he can’t really read anymore, so he just watches.
“Hey, Kiri, the way you style your hair kinda looks like a strawberry, ya know?”
The blonde stops listening after that, sneaking away through the trees,
He still doesn’t like strawberries.
“I’m assigning another partnered project,” Aizawa says, monotone as ever. Bakugou rolls his eyes. “There’s a document with everyone’s assigned partners on it.”
Bakugou lets out a sigh as he opens the document,
Bakugou Katsuki and Kirishima Eijirou
“Hey bro.” A rough voice sounds next to him, Bakugou looks over and immediately meets red, “Its uh, K-”
“Kirishima.” The other finishes for him, “I know your name.”
Kirishima looks surprised, “Oh.”
“You’re in almost all of my classes why the fuck would I not know your name?” The words come out harsher than he’d meant them too, the other shrugs, smile still brighter than the sun.
“Well, I was looking at the guidelines for the project and we’re supposed to learn the stuff they use for artificial flavors. I was thinking we could do Ethyl Methylphenylglycidate, I did a project about it in home ec. In high school.”
Bakugou hums, appreciative that Kirishima was actually working unlike a few of the people he worked with prior. “What is it supposed to taste like?”
Kirishima beams at him, “Strawberries!”
The blonde grimaced slightly,
He isn’t a fan of strawberries.
The conversation is limited, but they mostly sit in silence.
Kirishima’s room is a mess. Too many things are on the wall and when Bakugou first came in he tripped over the dumbbells that the dumbass left by the foot of the bed.
It’s got an interesting smell too, an undertone of sweat fills it but axe takes over most of it until the diffuser in the corner of the room turned on and the sweet smell of strawberries flooded the area.
Bakugou guesses he doesn’t mind strawberries.
They turned in the project almost two weeks ago, but Bakugou keeps finding himself back in Kirishima’s dorm.
They sit together on the redhead’s bed, their legs overlapping. There’s a movie playing but it’s long forgotten by now, at some point Kirishima had met his gaze aimed at the side of his head.
He feels closer than before
The heat radiates off Kirishima’s body like a furnace, Bakugou soaks in it. The whole room feels like heat, like red.
It’s all red, his blush, his lips, his hair.
Suddenly, Bakugou’s favorite color is red.
He’s probably closer than before.
Bakugou clenches his fist in an attempt to force away his urge to reach for the other male. The fabric of Kirishima’s shirt folds beneath his grip.
He is definitely closer than before.
“You’re eyes are beautiful.” Kirishima basically sighs out, and Bakugou melts.
“Just fucking kiss me.”
So he does. Bakugou gasps at the feeling of the softs lips, he doesn’t even have the chance to think about how chapped his own are, because Kirishima is pulling him even closer and holy fucking shit he hadn’t realized how much he wanted this.
It’s not a perfect kiss, it’s kinda wet and sloppy, and the way they’re sitting makes it hard to get a good angle but Bakugou never wants it to stop. Their lips mold together perfectly and when Bakugou slides his tongue across Kirishimas bottom lip he can taste it,
He doesn’t dwell on it too long because Kirishima is moving without breaking away and easing him down on the mattress.
Eventually, he has to pull away. They breathe against each other, foreheads resting together surrounded by a curtain of red hair. “God, Bakugou, please don’t hit me for saying this but I think I already love you. I really do-” He’s cut off by another quick kiss.
“Me too, Kirishima.”
Bakugou loves him. Bakugou loves red.
Bakugou loves strawberries.