Chapter Text
The cigarette smoke scent lingered thick in the air throughout the bar where Kurogiri stood, a washcloth in hand, slowly wiping down the same spot for what felt like hours now. No one had walked in the bar all day. No summons from Tomura or orders from the master. Kurogiri was left to his own devices, keeping his mind occupied with the same task he has always known, tending to the bar. He never found this boring or useless, still a necessity in his vision. Still serving a purpose.
Cigarette smoke caught in the air blending in with his own wispy form. He didn’t notice Jin entering the room until he was already plopped down onto the bar stool. His mask was pulled up so his mouth was visible with a cigarette dangling from his lips. He didn’t look the best, he looked worn out, exhausted almost. Wordlessly, Jin’s hands clutched onto his mask like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Without needing to ask, Kurogiri started preparing a strong alcoholic beverage. Kurogiri didn’t need a request, having made drinks for the man almost every day, Jin always asked for the same thing every time. A beer.
When Kurogiri slid the drink across the bar to Jin before going back to his repetitive motion of wiping down the surface. This time however with a listening ear. Knowing Jin, he is here for more than just a drink, with the lack of his usual chaotic energy and introduction, he needed to talk about something. Something serious and he knew Kurogiri wouldn’t judge for whatever comes out his mouth, always an attentive listener. Jin picks up his glass, taking a few sips, his other hand holding the burning cigarette. It hadn’t even been a minute of drinking before Jin’s thoughts tumbled out of his mouth.
“It’s about Atsuhiro,” Jin muttered carefully, like saying his name was sacred, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Mr. Compress. Y’know, wears a top hat, smug smirk behind that mask, stupidly dramatic.”
“I’m familiar with him,” Kurogiri spoke dryly. “We are comrades, after all.”
Jin chuckled into his drink, attempting to hide his giddy smile behind the glass. “I know you know him. Wait no I don't” He sighed, turning his head and facing away from the bartender’s gaze. “It’s more than that. You probably already know, don’t you? You’re observant like that.”
Kurogiri tilted his shadowy head slightly. “That you are in love with him?”
Jin froze. He should have expected the blunt response, this was Kurogiri he was talking to. The man was not known for being subtle in the way he spoke. Maybe that's what makes Jin trust him with vulnerable information.
“...Yes. No. Shut up.” Jin groaned, shoulders slumped as more words slipped out. “I love him. I hate the guy.” Jin cringes at that last part. The word "hate" when talking about Atsuhiro made his heart ache. It made him feel worse than he already did. The man he has been pining for months is now being reduced to his contradictory way of talking. He can’t help it most of the time but that doesn’t make him feel even less unworthy than he already is.
Kurogiri’s stoic voice broke through the awkward silence. “It is not hard to notice. With the way you look at him like he is the only person in the room. The way you talk about him to me. I believe this has been your 5th time you spoke about him this week.”
Jin’s eyes widened, even visible behind the mask. “You keep notice?” Jin felt embarrassment creeping up from asking that question, instantly regretting asking.
Kurogiri gives a simple nod to Jin’s question but does not give a further explanation. The silence stretched further. Jin sat with it, before finally speaking again, quieter this time. “He is way out of my league.” a soft nervous slipped out, struggling to continue but he did anyway. “He always calls me ‘dearest comrade’ and it makes my heart explode. I hate it.” He cursed under his breath for his conflicting speech. “He never treats me like I’m broken. And he could, I wouldn’t blame him if he did, but he doesn’t. He is not a mess. Not like me.”
Kurogiri refilled Jin’s glass, even though it was barely touched. “Three days ago,” he said. “He came to me with the same worry.”
Jin's head snapped up immediately, hoping he didn’t hear differently. “What? No way!”
Kurogiri nodded again. “He thinks you are too good for him.” He continued. “Says he doesn’t want to drag you down in his issues. Believes that you deserve someone who can give you the fullest. Someone less… closed off.” He was speaking in his usual monotone voice but to Jin, it felt like a lightning bolt had struck him.
A moment passes before Jin lets out a laugh, “So we are both idiots then.” He leaned back, tension softening in his shoulders. “Not Compress, though. He is perfect.” Jin argued with himself. For once he agreed with himself on that. He took another swig of his drink and his heart felt lighter.
Kurogiri’s yellow eyes glowed faintly behind the bar. “I wouldn’t disagree with that.”
Three days earlier…
The door to the bar swung open with a flourish, a flash of a yellow coat caught Kurogiri’s vision. Mr. Compress stepped inside, top hat tucked under one arm, his mask held in his hand. The low light of the bar danced gracefully around the magician. “Kurogiri,” he said with a hint of urgency. “A listening ear is required if you would be so kind.” He quickly slid on the barstool without waiting for a reply.
Kurogiri was polishing a glass before looking up to acknowledge Atsuhiro. “I’m listening.” He replied in his usual monotone voice. Already started preparing a drink to Atsuhiro’s taste.
Atsuhiro gave a grateful nod, silently thanking him. He hesitated before speaking, thinking about each word carefully. “It’s about Jin.”
“Of course it is,” Kurogiri said simply, he knew the moment the door opened.
The lack of judgment in Kurogiri’s presence alone gave Atsuhiro the confidence to continue. “I admire him. Not just for his talents but his heart. The way he’d risk everything to protect this small gang of mere criminals.” He gave a more thoughtful, less theatrical pause. “It's inspiring and terrifying. A beautiful contradiction just like himself.”
Kurogiri watched in silence, still listening as he slid the finished drink to Atsuhiro.
Atsuhiro took the drink with a soft murmur of thanks. “I fear I don’t measure up.” He admitted, fingers curling around his drink. “I don’t know how to open up like he does. I’ve never known how to match that kind of adoration and loyalty.”
Kurogiri’s washcloth stilled in his hand. Studying the man before speaking, “I see the way he looks at you,” He says evenly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he thinks you are too good for him.” A silence passed before Kurogiri continued, even more seriously. “If you don’t see a future with him, don’t give him false hope. A heartbroken Jin would completely ruin the league's morale. Teamwork is crucial, especially now.”
Atsuhiro understood the severity of Kurogiri’s words. Jin was not someone who bounced back easily from emotional wounds and he would hate to be the fault of that ever happening. Atsuhiro’s heart however had already made up its mind. “I want nothing more than to be with him, more than anything.” He said firmly, taking a sip of his drink before continuing. “I just don’t know how to let someone in.”
“Perhaps that is something you learn together with Jin,” Kurogiri replied, still with zero sentiment but his words were not any less important. “If anyone is going to help you with that part of yourself, it’s Jin.”
Atsuhiro gave his usual smirk, finishing the last sip of his drink before slipping his mask back into place. “So we both believe to be unworthy.” He stands up, preparing to leave. “How poetic and tragic.”
“Romantic.” Kurogiri offered.
“Only if it goes somewhere,” Atsuhiro replied with an attempt of optimism as he finally walked through the door.
Back to the present ...
Kurogiri had just finished explaining to Jin about his earlier exchange with Atsuhiro, hoping to offer him peace of mind. Jin leaned back on his stool, arms hanging loosely by his side. “Even knowing all that, I’m still not ready to confess to him,” he muttered, head tilted up to the ceiling. “Probably never will.”
Kurogiri calmly picks up Jin’s empty glass and starts to wash it. “Whatever happens I will support you any way I can,” he said, voice controlled. “But I believe Atsuhiro would appreciate it if you tried.”
A genuine smile crosses Jin to Kurogiri, appreciating his words. “Man, I'm glad you are here. Big feelings are a lot easier to deal with when you have someone to dump’ em on.” He stands up, getting ready to leave, tugging his mask down fully over his head. “Sorry for the emotional vomit by the way.” He spoke in his usually animated gestures.
Kurogiri gave a silent nod for a reply, accepting the apology without judgement.
Jin was almost out the door before making a sudden stop to spin around, nearly forgetting to say something important. “You're not gonna tell him anything, are ya?”
“I won’t,” Kurogiri said smoothly.
It was a lie, mostly anyway. Kurogiri fully intends to tell Atsuhiro the next time he sees him, hoping that it gets somewhere in their budding relationship. Now knowing that both men are pining for each other, he saw nothing wrong with a little pushing in the right direction.
Jin finally left, a smile under his mask when he walked through the door to his private room. Kurogiri glanced up at the cracked clock on the wall. It was getting late. Now finally Kurogiri remained alone, the silence amplifying every thought in his mind, leaving only the sound of his contorted thoughts and the leaky tap on the bar.
Then...
“You are not even listening to me, Shouta!”
“I'm listening. I’m just choosing to ignore you.”
Two opposing voices sliced through his hollow mind, they were unfamiliar and vivid. Kurogiri stiffened, raising a hand to his head, hoping to calm the voices. Before he could make sense of it, a third voice spoke. A voice full of warmth, full of laughter. A warmth Kurogiri never remembered feeling. A memory. It felt like a memory.
“Hizashi just ask him out already !”
The voice faded with laughter. Laughter like it came from a bright wide smile. The faces attached to these voices were unrecognisable, but the feelings stayed. Comfort, affection but also frustration. Like he was standing in the middle of it all. A middleman between two opposite hearts with poor communication.
The sudden sound of the door opening caused Kurogiri to snap out of his current dilemma, looking up at the intruder. Atsuhiro was standing at the door, glancing around.
“I believe I left my coat here.” The magician said casually. Though Kurogiri knew that Atsuhiro was here for another reason. He wasn’t just here for his coat. Kurogiri's yellow eyes honed.
“It’s hanging where you always leave it,” Kurogiri replied, gesturing towards the coat lounging on the chair.
Atsuhiro walked up to retrieve the coat, pulling the long yellow trench coat around himself, giving a nod as thanks. An awkward weight in the air, hesitating to say something before leaving. “Did Jin say anything to you by any chance?”
Kurogiri's suspicions were correct. Jin was still on his mind and now he was going to break earlier Jin’s promise with little regret. “Many things, including how he thinks you are too good for him.”
Atsuhiro’s face softens, his mask of composure slipping into a wistful look. “He would say something like that,” he said, almost laughing. “ I was planning on telling him today. But he laughed at something Dabi said, and I thought maybe he would be better off without me. I will be happy if he is happy. Even if I am not in the picture.”
Kurogri fixed him with a deadpan stare, not appreciating Atsuhiro for not taking the situation as seriously as he should. “Don’t be dramatic. We both know Jin will be happier with you.”
Atsuhiro lets out a breathless chuckle at Kurogiri’s flat expression, knowing he was being a bit melodramatic. Kurogiri was right and that makes Atsuhiro’s chest tight in a strange but hopeful way. He finally left the room with a final nod, the yellow of his coat fading down the hallway.
Kurogiri was left alone once again.
The night settles with the two pining stubborn villains left in their separate rooms, wondering when their feelings will finally spill. Kurogiri’s mind however still remained on those distant voices in his head, about a situation similar to his own. Full of the same struggle, the same fear, and the same unspoken hope.