Chapter Text
Eijirou let out an annoyed sigh as he sat at the countertop seating area of the dimly lit cafe.
Sero said he had just landed a job here, and that he’d be working tonight as soon as his intro to psych class let out.
But in the half hour that Kirishima had sat here waiting for his best friend, he was able to finish his homework for tomorrow’s kinesiology class, and finish a small cupcake.
He glared at his untouched coffee as he waited for his flake of a friend. Sero definitely hadnt worked hear long enough to show up late like this.
They had gone to a party a couple nights ago. One of those college ragers that scared the little freshman and liberated the upperclassmen like Eijirou from the responsibilities that came with college.
Kirishima was a Kinesiology major, so really his work load wasn’t that heavy.
His problem was that he couldn’t manage to end a relationship on his own. A relationship that consisted of a one night stand, and awkward, dry texting back and forth for the last two days since they’d met at a party.
“If you don’t like the shitty drinks, I’m pretty sure there’s a Starbucks just up the street,” a voice off to his right said.
“What?” Kirishima lifted his head.
He turned to find the rather snippy voice, staring back at the blonde man who had taken his order half an hour ago. He was currently working on a chalkboard sign that would likely go out from. His hands were dirty from the paint pens he’d been using, and his eyes looked at Eijirou defensively.
“It looks like the drink called your mother a slur or some shit,” he said, using his eyes to reference towards Eijirou untouched coffee.
Kirishima couldn’t help but giggle at the unabashed statement the other had made.
“N-No,” he laughed. What a strange guy.
This cafe was an odd one. If you’d just been looking at it from the outside, you’d think it was some sort of desolate building made in the fifties along with the university he attended. Its paint was once a full blue, now chipping to give it a rustic look that was borderline ugly in Eijirou’s opinion. The white lettering of the logo seemed to be new, maybe changed when the new owners took over. It was in a crowded part of the university, just barely considered on campus. At first glance it was hard to believe this twenty four hour cafe was popular with everyone that went to school here.
What Eijirou was trying to say was that this coffee shop looked like a dump on the outside.
But it was the inside that drew people in most of the time.
The deep green of the walls, and the thrifted couches in dark oranges and pale blues. Bookshelves scattered all around filled with books you could check out if you chose to. Potted plants with giant leaves hung from the ceilings and sat on any available surface. Some of them trickled down the shelves, or poured onto the counter just barely out of harm's way. There were a few cozy tables tucked into corners for students to study at, and also chairs right in front of the barista counter, where people could sit and sip their drinks, perhaps make small talk with the baristas working.
Music played softly from the turntable, a mellow alternative song that reminded Eijirou of cold nights where the sun had just quietly started descending, revealing the gorgeous pink hue the clouds took hold of as the sun dipped down.
Everyone in this coffee shop seemed trendy. He didn't know what else to call it, but it was a vibe that he didn’t fit at all. Definitely a place Sero would choose to work part time, what with his interesting piercing and tattoos. EIjirou could hardly get a shot at the doctor without wanting to pass out. It made the redhead feel a bit out of place. He was never good at styling himself or fitting a certain aesthetic. He was more of a jeans and t-shirt type, or maybe the occasional sweat pants if he was feeling extra lazy.
The waiter in front of him looked like he belonged here.
He wore a button down tucked into a pair of baggy cargo pants, which he then cuffed to reveal his chunky, and rather dirty, converse. His arms were covered by a dark, black, and gray sweater which hung loose enough to fall off if he hadn’t been wearing an apron. His hair was a wispy blonde, pointing in awkward angles as though he’d just woken up, but still perfectly placed.
His eyes were a bright red, similar to Eijirou’s own, but much lighter. His skin was porcelain, nose chiseled and pointed, jaw set and sharp as he clenched it.
This waiter was the type of person to knock women’s breath straight out of their lungs. He must be super popular with the girls here. Part of it made Eijirou jealous, and then another part of Eijirou felt weird and almost nervous next to the blonde.
It certainly didn’t help that the man was looking at him, one brow raised in question as he waited for the redhead’s reasoning as to why he was glaring daggers at his coffee cup.
Eijirou let out an awkward sigh, internally cursing Sero for not coming into work on time when he desperately needed a friend to listen to his relationship issues.
“This girl that I,” he bit his lip, trying to think of a civil way to say it without sounding like a total asshole. “/Met up with/.”
The blonde gave him a look, leaning against the counter. He capped the paint pen in his hand, temporarily putting his task on hold to listen to Eijirou’s problems.
How strange, Kirishima had thought. Why did this guy care about what he had to say?
“She wants more, and I don’t. Now things are gonna get all weird, even though we agreed to stay friends and nothing more,” the redhead shifted in his chair uncomfortably as he felt those piercing red eyes watch his every move.
Why was he doing this? Talking to a random dude about his girl problems had to be a new low for him.
But it weighed so heavily on his conscience.
He was so fucking bad at falling in love.
And he wanted it so badly. If he could make himself fall in love with the girl he’d slept with last weekend he’d do it.
Eijirou didn’t understand, he did everything right. Went to parties, treated women kindly. He was quiet, and friendly, talked when he was supposed to, and made friends with their friends.
And yet, he felt nothing. He never felt anything for any of his one night stands.
He shouldn’t call them that, but that’s what they always end up being. At every first meeting, during every nightly excursion, Eijirou swore to himself that this girl would be the one. Every time he felt even an ounce of fondness for someone, he inevitably jumped the gun and slept with them.
Then suddenly nothing felt right. She wasn’t as nice as he thought, or they didn’t have anything in common, or the girl didn’t want anything more.
This time around Eijirou just didn’t feel anything toward the girl. It was a Friday night, they’d been drinking and he wanted some sort of connection. When he woke up he immediately felt guilty. He knew it was wrong to sleep with someone before discussing if it would become something more, but he’d done just that.
That’s why he was currently at this interesting coffee shop on a Thursday evening, when he should really be working on his homework and studying for a lab he was definitely going to fail.
“So now you’re doing damage control? Because your, what? A heart breaker or something?”
The blonde's words pulled him from his thoughts. He didn’t sugar coat, that’s for sure.
He didn’t seem to have much of an emotion for Eijirou. His face was neutral. An amused raise of his brows was the only indication of any interest.
“Not damage control. I’m just trying to fix the confusion,” the redhead shook his head. Damage control made it sound like he’d ruined things, or hurt the girl.
But, well, he sort of did.
The redhead groaned into the palm of his hand. “Okay fine, maybe it’s damage control.”
Even the waiter’s laugh was cool. Eijirou had a hard time pouting when the other was laughing at his stupidity.
The waiter shook his head before moving around behind the counter. He moved two cups from their spot by the coffee grinder, then picked up the paint pen again. Eijirou watched quietly, letting the soft music fill the air as the scratch of the pen against the chalkboard mesmerized him.
Sero would’ve given him advice. Sero would have told him exactly what to say to this girl if EIjirou wanted to date her, or let her down.
But the silence was sort of nice. This strange waiter's blunt attitude and condescending voice was rather comforting. Maybe it was the lighting, or the warm coffee steam on his face, but Eijirou would almost go as far to say that this guy could eventually become a friend of his if Eijirou played his cards right.
A new friend is not what he needs right now though. Right now he needs someone to tell him how to let this girl down without seeming like a total douchebag.
His parents were high school sweethearts, Sero has been head over heels with Mina for almost a year. How was it that he was the only one who didn’t understand?
“You seeing anyone?” Eijirou asked suddenly.
The blonde leaned his elbow against the counter and pressed his chin into the fabric of his sleeve that covered his palm,“Are you asking to fuck or for advice?”
Eijirou’s hands shot up quickly, “Advice! Advice.”
To fuck? Eijirou hadn’t even been thinking of that. He was never interested in dudes. Or at least he didn’t think he was. With the way his face was heating up though, he found himself starting to question that notion.
“Don’t be a major fuckin asshole?” The blonde snorted.
Oh. His heart suddenly dropped to his stomach.
The guy was a bit of a jerk but this definitely hit a soft spot.
Eijirou shot him a glare for a moment. Maybe he hadn’t explained himself well enough. Maybe he really was a player. That thought alone was enough to send a jolt of guilt through his insides. Suddenly the warm coffee in his hands started to make him feel sick. His stomach sank. Was he a bad person?
The blonde must’ve noticed his sudden internal crisis, because soon he was letting out another sigh, leaning his head forward and squeezing his eyes shut. Eijirou watched as the blonde’s hand hovered over the black sign, paint pen sitting unused as he contemplated.
“Tell her you're sorry, and that you don’t feel the same. Maybe in person if you're feeling like a less shitty player.”
“Gee thanks,” Eijirou clicked his tongue.
Maybe he’d read this entire situation wrong. He’d thought this guy was nice, but now he was sort of questioning it a bit. He looked at the bottom of his coffee cup, swishing around the froth at the bottom of his cup.
“You’re welcome. Please come again!” The blonde smiled in an overly dramatic customer service voice, hiding the obvious sarcastic reply, smirk prevalent on his features.
Like hell was Eijirou coming back.
—
He went back.
But not for the reasons you’d think! Definitely not because he wanted to see the cocky blonde again.
In fact, the bratty waiter's advice did the complete opposite of what Eijirou wanted. Telling the girl he wanted nothing more, and that they could remain friends had resulted in a whole outburst with the girl who claimed he was only using her for her body.
That wasn’t true, not in the slightest. Eijirou would never stoop so low as to sleep with a woman solely to fuck, his mothers would maim him.
He just lost the connection he had thought he’d felt before. At first he was super into her. She was sweet, and pretty. She smelt like clean flowers, and whiskey. But after they slept together and the night ended, when the sun rose, and the alcohol wore off Eijirou lost that warm, exciting feeling he felt before. No longer was the girl sweet, or kind. She was rude and demanding of his time. Overly obsessed with her phone and her friends' social statuses that changed day by day.
Eijirou had tried, he really did. He always tried with the women he met with.
But it never worked.
And he always ended up in situations like this one, where a girl was publicly shaming him for ‘Sleeping around, using women as one night stands.’
His week went by in complete shambles. Eijirou skipped the next party of the weekend to focus on his studies, or rather stare at the nasty text he was getting from all of the girl's friends.
So yeah, he came back to the cafe, but not for the blonde who had shitty advice.
No, he came for Sero. His wise, fellow party goer, friend who was actually in a stable relationship with someone.
The bell above the door of the cafe chimed, clearing his head as he entered behind Kaminari.
“Oh great, it’s my favorite customers,” Sero hollered from behind the counter. He was much too chipper for Eijirou’s horrible wake up call from his one night stand.
He groaned before sitting down at the bar of the coffee shop, flipping his phone over and choosing to ignore it. The redhead half listened as Kaminari blabbed on and on about how cool Sero looked in his barista apron, and how it’ll probably attract all the babes.
Eijirou made a face at that. How could a cream colored apron covered in coffee splashes make someone look attractive?
“Hey Mr. Brightside,” a snarky voice called from the other side of the counter.
As if to prove the redhead wrong, the blonde waiter from the other day walked out of the kitchen, arms full of baked goods on hot pans. This guy, regardless of his sarcasm and blunt behavior, looked perfect in an apron. In fact, Eijirou could argue that all men probably aspire to look that good in aprons. His sweater once again hung loosely around his arms, baggy and worn-out, but cinched by the apron at his tiny waist. His dark blue jeans were ripped and cuffed once again to show off a new pair of muddy, torn up green converse.
“So, it went bad?” The guy asked after a moment of silence.
From the look on his face, Eijirou must’ve been staring a bit too long. He glanced at the name tag on the man’s shirt, Bakugou.
“You look constipated,” Bakugou added with a raised brow and a smirk.
This guy could be so condescending. Eijirou wasn’t sure why he liked it so much. Half of him wanted to flip the guy off and the other half wanted to bring him closer and talk to him longer. Bakugou was cool. Calm and collected, quick on his feet and witty, and oh so intimidating next to someone like Eijirou. He seemed to have absolutely no flaws at first glance.
But the more Eijirou stared, the more he noticed the bags under the blondes eyes, and how pale his complexion had become since seeing him last week. Maybe he was a college student. Maybe he was in the same boat as Kirishima.
“You look tired,” the redhead teased right back. “Rough night?”
At that Bakugou rolled his eyes and moved to the display case. He picked up tongs and began moving the fresh pastries into the display, while Sero manned the register. The rush had just begun, and there was little opportunity for Eijirou to even speak with Sero or Bakugou.
He had come to see Sero of course, but seeing the new guy sent an annoying jitter to his bones. His fingers toyed with the straw wrapper from his water as he waited for a lull to consume the store so he could start talking to the blonde again.
In some odd, nonsensical way, Bakugou’s sarcasm was refreshing. His teasing was light hearted, and had a way of making EIjirou pissed off and comfortable at the same time. The redhead wanted to talk with him more, but then he also wanted to avoid him at all costs. Kirishima didn’t know what to say to the busy man in order to get his attention. Why would someone as interesting as this Bakugou character want to waste a moment of time with Eijirou’s pathetic love life drama.
“Are you still moping over that girl? It didn’t work out dude. Shit happens,” Kaminari said from his spot next to Eijirou. He’d order a frappuccino, which seemed like a glorified milkshake to Eijirou, but he had much more pressing matters to deal with rather than what Kaminari chose to spend his money on.
“I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” he groaned, looking at Kaminari.
“Love is hard, especially in college,” his friend raised his hands as if to show the redhead that it wasn’t a big deal.
But that wasn’t really what he wanted to hear right now. Honestly he didn’t know what he wanted to hear. He let out a sigh, watching as the puff of air made his bangs float. Part of him wanted someone to tell him he wasn't a bad person. He was just a guy that slept around sometimes. He was just trying to connect with someone and failing at it at an impressive rate.
Bakugou sighed before closing the display case and stacking the now empty trays.
“Sounds tough, Red.”
His comment held no malice, but no real sympathy either. Eijirou didn’t expect anything from Bakugou, he hardly even knew the guy.
“What about you?” Eijirou found himself asking.
Bakugou squared his shoulders to face him. The redhead would be lying if he said it didn’t intimidate him. He was in a pair of old sweat pants and a baggy shirt. His hair was down and his roots could definitely use a touch up.
And somehow Bakugou seemed to be the type of perfect EIjirou had always searched for.
“What about me?” Bakugou laughed, as if the question was stupid.
Was it wrong to ask that to someone you’d only met a week ago? Was it weird that Eijirou suddenly cared about the answer.
The blonde backed away towards the kitchen, but not before shrugging his shoulders and smiling that shit eating grin as he said, “I don’t fall in love. I just fake it.”
—
After the rather cynical notion of faking his love, Eijirou figured there was more to Bakugou’s story. Not that it really mattered. He was just a coworker of Sero. Just some guy that worked at the cafe a bit off campus.
So Eijirou really didn’t understand why he kept gravitating back to this damn coffee shop.
Somehow, Bskugou turned into his own personal breath of fresh air. Like the air that gets punched from your gut and leaves you wheezing, but somehow in a good way. It felt insane to think about, but Eijirou actually wanted this friendship. He enjoyed the banter and the honesty.
Not only that, but seeing the blonde behind the counter, all dressed up in his apron and whatever the latest trend was, was an exciting difference in Eijirou’s once boring life.
Today was no different.
Bakugou stood behind the counter, deep green sweatshirt over pale blue jeans, and those same dirt converse. Eijirou wondered if the cafe got cold during the day. Maybe that’s why the man always opted for baggy shirts that hid his entire upper half.
“Alright guys! I’m clocking out for the night,” Sero threw his town down on the counter and tugged at the strings of his apron.
The blonde glanced up at Eijirou. He’d been wiping down the counter with a wet rag.
“Mr. Heartache,” he grinned slyly, grabbing a spare serving tray from the empty counter.
It was a Friday night and the cafe was empty. Only Sero, Bakugou, and the mysterious dual haired man working in the back with what Eijirou could only assume were the pastries.
“Seriously man?” Eijirou rolled his eyes. He was getting a bit annoyed with the nicknames.
Though he couldn’t tell you why. Most men enjoyed the fact that others knew he was popular with women. It gave them some superiority complex.
But Eijirou didn’t get off on shit like that. He didn’t want to be known for sleeping around.
And for some reason, it really bothered him that Bakugou assumed he was nothing more than a fuckboy.
“You two know each other?” Mina raised a brow.
Eijirou shook his head, “Not really.”
“Not at all actually,” came the blonde's response with that same lazy grin.
For a moment, the redhead took a moment to look at the other man. Their carmine eyes locked for a moment, and once again Kirishima could feel concern crawling up his throat. Those eyes held heavy, purple bags, full of so much exhaustion Eijirou felt it creep into his own as well.
Suddenly something shifted. He couldn’t really explain it, the man just got the feeling that something wasn’t right. Maybe the blonde wasn’t doing as well as he let on.
“We’re going to a party tonight. You wanna come?” Eijirou softened his tone a bit, kicking the toe of his vans shoe against the wall of the counter top.
From here the redhead could see the difference in their heights. Bakugou’s soft blonde hair hit around the other's chin. He had to look up at him, eyes daring and somewhat mischievous.
Then those scarlet irises flicked down to Mina who stood close by.
“Onto the next I see?” The blonde asked.
It made the redhead grit his teeth. Such a little shit. He and Mina had been friends since middle school. They were practically siblings. Even if they weren’t close in that way, Sero and her had been dating since the start of their sophomore year last year.
“Nah, she’s just a friend. Not like you’d know.”
Almost as soon as the words left his lips he regretted it.
It was all in good fun, senseless banter between them, just like last time. But Eijirou could’ve sworn he’d somehow hit a nerve he hadn’t meant to. He mentally cursed when the blonde broke eye contact with him for a split second to look at the floor, before sweeping his gaze back over to Sero. That lazy smile was no longer there, now replaced with a blank stare.
There was no snarky response. No lingering glare or outburst of any sort. Instead the blonde pressed his lips together in a plastic smirk and pinched at the sleeves of his hoodie.
It made Eijirou feel terrible. It was no longer funny, the joke no longer stretching, and instead he just felt like a fucking asshole.
Really living up to his title lately.
“Well, have a blast,” Bakugou’s sarcasm was back, like a suit of armor to hide what Eijirou seemed to have chipped at.
He picked up the dirty rag, looking back at the group who’d gather around them. Sero had clocked out, wrapping his arms around Mina as they got ready to head out.
And Bakugou stayed behind the counter, with tired eyes that made Eijirou want to stay even longer.
“I’ll be here, cleaning the coffee pots.”
The blonde waved them off, and Eijirou had half a mind to stay.
Even so, the squad dragged him out of the cafe into the dark night and into the back of Sero’s beat up car. They’d go to a party, and Eijirou would meet a new girl.
And Bakugou would be here, at the coffee shop.
Why did he care? Why did it bother him so much?
“What do you know about him?” He asked nobody in particular. The music was loud as Kamianri shuffled through his playlist. Sero almost missed it.
“Who? Bakugou?” Sero laughed, as if it was ridiculous of him to ask about the blonde.
When Kirishima didn’t laugh, Sero eyed him in the rearview mirror awkwardly. He scratched his neck as he thought for a moment.
“What’s there to know about him? He’s a bit of a brat, and he’s pretty standoffish. Bit of a loner too, but he’s close with the manager at work.”
A brat, standoffish, a loner.
That didn’t seem right. In fact, Bakugou seemed more than interested in talking to Eijirou if it meant he could poke fun at him and tease him.
He did seem lonely, but it seemed like there was more to it than that. More than just the appearance of sluggishness, or the temper he kept at bay. It felt like Eijirou was missing something, and he wasn’t entirely sure why he wanted to know what it was.
Why did leaving Bakugou alone at the coffee shop feel so wrong?