14 Days | KiriBaku | BakuShima

Day 2

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Beep. Bee-

"Alright!" Kirishima slammed a hand down onto his alarm clock, missing the button on the first try but smashing it directly on the second, blissful silence enveloping him as the repetitive blaring shut up.

The first thing he did was turn his gaze onto his forearm, some part of him still hoping, still believing that there would be an answer, a reply, but of course it was bare. No hello, no good morning, nothing. Kirishima felt the sadness well up, but he dismissed it. After all, Kirishima had long since grown accustomed to the fact that he was likely one of the only people in the world who didn't have a soulmate, so instead he pulled his comforter up to his neck, trying to avoid looking at his arm.

His bed was delightfully warm, comforter entangled with his legs and one arm hanging limply over the edge. Deciding that he could spend another five minutes enjoying the heat he had generated throughout the night, Kirishima snuggled further down, a small smile on his face.

After spending a lot longer than five minutes and possibly drifting off again, Kirishima reluctantly threw the duvet off and got to his feet, about to prepare himself for the day when his feet encountered something unfamiliar.

Something soft and bouncy was beneath the pads of his toes, still warm. Kirishima looked down and saw the futon, suddenly remembering that Bakugo was staying with him. He looked around the room, feverishly darting his eyes back and forth but seeing no one. Figuring he must have left early, Kirishima continued with his morning routine.

First off was changing out of his pyjamas, which he did, slipping into a pair of cotton drawstring pants and a sleeveless hoodie, both neutral tones of contrasting grey. He relished in the comfort of them both, glad he had decided to aim for cosiness rather than fashion. Maybe that wasn't very manly of him, but...

Shaking the thought from his mind, Kirishima told himself that he had gotten just the right amount of style and opulence, moving into his en-suite and starting on his hair, covering his large hands in gel and coating his strands in it. To his distaste, Kirishima noticed the beginning of his black roots beginning to show, and remembered he didn't have any of his dye left.

Get more hair dye, he mentally noted, spiking up the front two 'horns', as he liked to call them, working his way to the back. After a few minutes he was done, the routine not taking nearly as long as it used to, and Kirishima admired his handiwork in the mirror for a moment.

A boy stared back at him, but not the one he used to see. This boy was bold, confident. He wasn't afraid of anything, was friends with everyone. No one knew this boy had insecurities, or fears, or weaknesses. This boy was strong.

Kirishima nodded to the boy, who nodded back, and then he was out, grabbing his phone as he exited the room.

Strangely enough, Kirishima didn't encounter anyone on the way down to the kitchen, and he briefly wondered how long he had stayed in bed for, but wasn't overly concerned. It was the weekend, after all, and there was no one to yell at him for sleeping in, so Kirishima made his way leisurely to the elevator, pressing the button that pointed down and waited.

Left alone with his thoughts, Kirishima's mind began to wander, and his father's face floated to the forefront. Despite not wanting to know, not wanting to care, Kirishima found himself imagining how he was doing without him there. Kirishima had always been the one to clean the house, cook the dinner, make sure the mail was neatly sorted into work, personal and house-upkeep. Would his father be able to do all of that on top of his pressing job? A cruel, nasty part of his mind hoped that he wouldn't, that he wasn't coping and wanted Kirishima back to help. Maybe if he went back, his father would treat him better, appreciate him rather than taking him for granted as he always had.