The stench of burning quickly filled the house. Bakugou already at the source; but not the cause of it. His knees began to shake with poorly kept anger and the feeling of betrayal coursing through his body. Despite the smoke filling the room at a high rate, he slowly sank to his knees.
“I'm sorry.” said Kirishima. Standing a few feet behind bakugou, voice quiet and unsure.
Bakugou clenched his hand around the edge of the counter he was kneeling by, knuckles white from the pressure. His other hand raised to cover his face, as if blocking the view would make everything disappear.
“N-no,” He barked out harshly between grit teeth, “NO.”
He was in utter disbelief. Bakugou had given Kirishima the simplest of tasks. How could someone fuck up so badly? He could barely comprehend it. Actually, he didn’t understand at all. How someone could do something so terrible and have the guts to try to apologize.
“HOW COULD YOU NOT KNOW TO ADD WATER WHEN COOKING SPAGHETTI?!” Bakugou snapped, finally standing and facing Kirishima. “YOU. STUPID. MOTHERFUCKER.”
Kirishima dared to take a few steps back, hands raised in defense. “I-I don’t know, man! I’ve never made spaghetti!”
Bakugou was seething. His fists were shaking and crackling, threatening. “IT’S COMMON FUCKING KNOWLEDGE, YOU BASTARD. I'M MAKING THE PASTA SAUCE WITH YOUR DAMN BLOOD.”