The crowd's cheers were faint and fuzzy to Katsuki Bakugo; he was getting dizzy sitting amongst rabid fans who screamed at the top of their lungs when all he wanted to do was watch a simple game of soccer and take a few notes on their formations and players; one in specific.
Number 3, the infamous Red Riot as he called himself. Eijirou Kirishima was practically a god among mortals to the soccer team; he could block any goal, score any point, and to top it off he had the sportsmanship of a hyperactive dog who was just happy to be involved at all.
Was he the reason more and more people became interested in their school's team? Bakugo scribbled the thought down in his notebook.
The blaring buzzer drowned out most of the crowd's cheering as the final point soared into the opposing team's goal like it had wings; Kirishima again. He was always saved for last to make some heroic comeback for the team as if he was their last hope. They should probably just improve the other players as well. Bakugo noted that they had been slacking since Kirishima's arrival.
People began to flood out of the field's bleachers, many making their way towards the star player to high-five, gift, or simply congratulate him on another win for the team. Surprising that the others hadn't developed a sort of malicious jealousy towards him yet; maybe they were just that desperate to win.
Bakugo took a moment to gather up his belongings; people pushed past him so quickly that he had dropped his pen. Nothing too bad, thankfully, since it hadn't dropped between the metal bars. He reached down to pick it up, slipping the instrument into his pocket before sliding his shoulder bag into its place. More and more people were weeded out of the stadium and the blond felt himself sigh in relief; finally, some peace and quiet in a place like this. Taking his time had some ups and downs to it.
Usually he wasn't so good with these types of events; the blond preferred to stay home and research things in books or at his desktop computer, but the physics class he was taking that semester had required, or rather forced, him to get out of his comfort zone.
"Document a game or sport in movement," the professor had said. "Write a short essay about the formulas of movement you see in play and how they affect the team or player involved."
Psychics wasn't that important to Bakugo, honestly, but it was a requirement in the school's graduation policy and, wanting to pursue a career in science later in life, it would help him to at least understand in case he needed it.
"Great game again, Kirishima!" The coach's voice boomed, as usual, and Bakugo could see his triangle-like hair swaying in the wind. Those golden locks definitely defied the laws of gravity; he could tell.
It was hard to hear the rest of the team gather together and sing their praises towards Red Riot, the star player, until he walked past them. The bleachers were a little higher off the ground, but the movement caught Kirishima's eyes and he turned his head up to face the blond while still donning a stupid grin; the blond wouldn't have noticed until his name rang through his ears.
"Oh, Bakugo! You came to see our game this time?!"
A flinch stopped Bakugo in his tracks; he couldn't ignore Kirishima today, as he usually would. Recently, he found himself to be feverish around the redhead. It was something he couldn't explain, or maybe he simply didn't want to explain it. Either way, he decided that ignoring Kirishima altogether was better than feeling sick around him. Sweaty palms, increased heart rate, and weak muscles; that surely was a sickness.
Bakugo took a hesitant glance down at Kirishima below him; he could already feel his cheeks heating up, getting dizzy. He needed to get out of there quick.
"Hey…." He replied slowly, hoping the subtle hint of awkwardness in his tone would reach the redhead's dense and selectively-hearing ears. "Uh, I just...had an assignment…." His voice got softer and softer with each word, barely audible by the last syllable. Anyone else would've given up at that point, but Kirishima pressed on with superb hearing despite only using it to hear what he wants to hear.
"I see! Well, did you get what you needed? Was it exhilarating? It was, right? Right?" Red Riot's dumb grin only grew; he moved closer to the bottom of the bleachers and held the metal rods between his hands as he leaned up on his tiptoes. "You totally cheered me on, didn't you? You should've told me you were coming!"
Whatever Kirishima said after that became white noise to Bakugo as his face turned bright red. Not only was the redhead trying to invade his personal space, but his voice was just...flowing in a strange way. He could feel his heart beating in his chest and that was when he got desperate. It felt like there was a black hole in his neck, finding the words trapped inside his dry throat.
"I...I have to go," he finally choked out, relief washing over his entire body before forcing his legs to carry him off the bleachers and instead towards the school building.
There was a moment of silence as he left before other team members began to snicker and laugh. Of course, it was directed at Bakugo rather than their star player.
"Looks like there's at least one person who doesn't like you, Kirishima," a boy piped up while nudging the person who stood next to him with his elbow. The other only laughed in response and nudged him back.