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“Hey, man! We’re still on for training today, right?”
“Training with Pink Cheeks today.”
“Oh, that’s no problem! See you at dinner, Bakugou.”
-
“We studying tonight?”
“Can't, I've got a meeting with Deku and All Might.”
“Ah, favoritism at its finest. All good, see you later!”
-
“Hey Bakugou, Kami wants us in his room, he’s kind of losing it. Something about finally asking Jirou out. You coming?”
“I'm seeing a movie with some people.”
“Aw, who?”
“Why do you care?”
“...nevermind, sorry! Hope you have a good time!”
-
“Bakugou! Bakugou, hello? Damn it—Bakugou! Finally, dude, you running away from me? Anyway, the comic book store has a fifty percent off sale! Wanna go with me? I hear they got some epic action fig—”
“Can't you see I'm talking to Shinsou right now?”
“Oh, I—I’m sorry. I'll, uh, see you guys.”
-
“Dude, did you see me on the news today? I was all like ‘gah’ and ‘roar!’”
“No, I was out with Ponytail.”
“But you said—okay. Did you buy anything cool?”
“No.”
“...okay.”
-
“Hey, man. We haven't really hung out lately, you want to get a bite for lunch?”
“Having lunch with the band today. Maybe next time.”
“Yeah, totally!”
-
“Bakugou! Where—”
“What do you want? I'm in the middle of something, Kirishima.”
“Oh, we were—it’s just that we were ‘sposed to meet at the arcade today, did you forget?”
“Shit, yeah. I'm with Ashido right now, can't come. Sorry.”
“It’s—it’s okay! Tell her I said hel—”
* click *
“—lo.”
-
“I can't sleep, Bakugou. Can I come over? Would you let me stay? I don't know anymore. I don't know if you want to be my friend anymore. It doesn't feel like it. I really miss you, Bakugou. I really want to come over.”
-
Kirishima stared at the notification, blinding white in his otherwise dark room.
Baku: Studying today?
They hadn't studied together for nearly two weeks, and now he was asking? Kirishima frowned. He had been under the covers for longer than anticipated. It was nearing five thirty, and they always studied at six.
What did Bakugou gain from this? Kirishima wanted nothing more than to head over to the blond’s room like nothing happened, like he wasn't lying on his bed, tear tracks still wet, because of him. Holding his breath, irrationally terrified that Bakugou could somehow hear his heavy breathing through the wall, Kirishima sat upright. He clutched his pillow to his chest and pressed shaky fingers to his phone.
You: sure
Watching the simple, four letter word change from delivered to read felt like a physical kick to the gut. Kirishima remembered when he’d watched this one movie with his little sister, and she’d said something about feeling vertigo at a scene of a boat rocking on the waves, despite staying perfectly, entirely still.
He didn't get it, then. Now he did. Crimson Riot’s abs were staring him right in the face from where a poster was hung on the opposite wall, and with the way his vision was blurring, looking ready to melt off his body at any given moment. This wasn't how he was supposed to feel. The last time he’d described the feelings Bakugou gave him to someone, it was Ashido, and she’d taken the reins after a fumbling attempt on his part, narrating the fluttering in his stomach with stunning accuracy for someone who had never felt it before.
Kirishima knew what it was like to have a crush. He knew what it was like to like someone, to want to spend time with them, romantically or platonically. Hell, not two weeks ago his heart couldn't help but skip at the mere thought of Bakugou.
But a lot could change in two weeks. Mainly, the reminder of graduation looming upon them all.
It was fine. Since he’d asked, maybe Bakugou wanted to hang out with him again. Maybe he missed him, even. Kirishima snorted, a humorless sound. Yeah right. As if someone like Bakugou could ever miss someone like him.
Kirishima used the entire thirty minutes to psych himself up, wash his face, and prepare for what was to come. It might not have been a battle, but it was close enough, and Kirishima wasn't sure he was strong enough to win this one.
“You're okay,” he whispered to himself, facing his mirror but refusing to turn the light on. “You don't need him. This is just because…because you want to see what he wants.”
As much as he tried, Kirishima had never been good at lying to himself. Sniffling slightly, he flicked the light on, furiously scrubbing at the sheen in his carmine eyes until it was almost believable that he hadn't been crying. Maybe if he yawned really big, he could even convince himself that he hadn't. How many times would Kirishima be sobbing over his best friend— ex best friend, he supposed. God, he really was that pathetic, wasn't he? Bakugou didn't even want him around anymore. Why did he still miss him so badly?
It wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair that they had barely talked lately, it wasn't fair that Bakugou wanted to get rid of him before graduation, before commitment, it wasn't fair that it was 5:56 and Kirishima had to head over, it wasn't fair that he wasn't ready yet.
It wasn't fucking fair.
Feet dragging against his carpet, Kirishima forced himself to grab his books and reach a shaky hand out to turn the doorknob. Before he could blink, he was in front of Bakugou’s door.
“Are you coming in or are you just going to fucking stand out there all day?” Bakugou shouted. Kirishima jumped. It was too late to back out now, then.
“Coming,” he called, and opened the door before him. Kirishima didn't know why he expected something to be different. It was still Bakugou’s room, the same room he had been in countless times before. He was the one out of place, here.
Bakugou glanced up from where he was situated at his desk, arms crossed and eyebrow cocked in an obvious display of boredom. Shifting uncomfortably, Kirishima tried not to let it get to him any more than usual. He wasn't sure what to make of the downwards pull of Bakugou’s lips as he took Kirishima in, probably noticing his red-rimmed eyes and stooped posture. Fortunately—or maybe unfortunately, Kirishima couldn't decide yet—he said nothing.
“Hey,” he mumbled.
“The fuck is up with you?” Bakugou asked bluntly. “Don't tell me you're so scared about how much we have to go over.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we haven't studied in a long ass time, have we? We have to get shit done today. Sit your dumbass down, Shitty Hair.”
God, it was like nothing had ever changed. Obediently, Kirishima joined Bakugou at his desk and pulled out his things, careful not to encroach on Bakugou’s space as he laid them out. The whole time, Bakugou’s scrutinizing gaze wouldn't leave him. He was right about how much they had to go over. Kirishima had…been slacking lately, to put it lightly, and it was glaringly obvious as they worked through a couple problems he should have been able to do in his sleep. Instead, he could barely focus on the paper in front of him. All he could think about was why he was here. Maybe Bakugou just wanted to keep up pretenses? Maybe he felt bad?
Maybe it was pity.
The next time Kirishima side-eyed the blond, wondering why he hadn't been yelled at over his shoddy work just yet, he was taken aback at the almost nervous look on his face. Eyes trained on the wall behind the desk instead of his paper, Bakugou chewed on his bottom lip, pencil flicking in his fingers. Kirishima couldn't help himself.
“Bakugou? Are you okay, man?”
Because despite it all, he still gave a damn about him. Even if his paranoid suspicions were right and Bakugou didn't care about him anymore, Kirishima wasn't sure he could ever fully let go of him. As much as that scared him, Bakugou was just too important to him. Kirishima wanted him to be okay.
“I'm fine,” Bakugou snapped predictably. Patiently, Kirishima waited, watching quietly as Bakugou ducked his head down, staring at the table for a poignant moment. Eventually, his pupils darted back up to meet Kirishima’s. He was looking at the redhead through his bangs, as if ready to abandon whatever effort he was making at a moment’s notice, so Kirishima smiled as warmly as he could manage at the moment.
“It’s just me,” he murmured. You're still my best friend, Bakugou, he didn't say. You can trust me.
“You were up late last night,” Bakugou said finally, leaning back in his chair. “Pacing around and shit. You didn't—” he cut himself off, and all of a sudden, Kirishima knew what this was about. Sighing, he dropped his pencil and looked off to the side.
“It wasn't that I couldn't sleep,” he lied. “I just wasn't tired.”
“Don't bullshit me, Kirishima. Why didn't you come over? You always—you always come over.”
That was before I realized I probably wasn't worth your time, Kirishima thought bitterly. It was strange; as hard an advocate he was for talking about your feelings and as much as he believed that crying things out was manly, when it really came down to it, he choked. How could he possibly look at Bakugou now—whose mouth was curled in hurt, like Kirishima not coming to him in the middle of the night wasn't a favor—and just…tell him the truth?
“Didn't want to bother you,” he settled on, jaw tensing when Bakugou scoffed, the sound piercing straight through his battered heart.
“Oh, but it wasn't a bother the hundred other times?”
Abruptly, Kirishima shoved himself to his feet. “This was a mistake,” he muttered. As he was gathering his things, fully ready to slam the door behind him and everything, a quiet, questioning noise made him freeze.
“A…mistake?” Bakugou asked, and it seemed Kirishima had made another, turning to face the blond. He looked lost, like he really didn't know what was going on.
Didn't he?
The sight of him made Kirishima’s chest clench, and not in the way it usually did. “What did I do? ” Bakugou shouted suddenly, shooting to his feet and meeting Kirishima head on. “You've been so fucking distant lately and not wanting to bother me or whatever when it never used to matter before, because you used to know that it wasn't a bother, and now coming to see me was a fucking mistake?”
Kirishima’s head spun, turning over itself in an effort to process what Bakugou was saying. “What the hell do you mean I've been distant lately?” He demanded, once the words fully registered. Taking a step back, Kirishima hugged his arms, flushing from the embarrassment of having to voice the reason for his recent mood. “You're the one who keeps blowing me off every time I try to talk to you! Well, I got your stupid hint, Bakugou! You don't have to deal with me anymore, so stop acting like this is my fucking fault and just let me leave! ”
Kirishima’s voice cracked horrifically on the last word, leaving him with a hanging head and heaving chest. As they stood there, Bakugou staring at him with baffled annoyance and Kirishima feeling an amalgamation of emotions he couldn't even begin to name, the only sound in the room was their near frenzied breathing. Kirishima turned to go, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, when Bakugou’s hand shot out, circling his wrist in an iron grip.
“ Don't, ” Bakugou spit out. Strangely enough, the look in his eyes was wild; confused, even. Not angry, like Kirishima had expected. “Just wait. Wait one goddamn minute, Kirishima, I don't—this isn't—just stay. Stay.”
If Kirishima didn't know any better, he would have said Bakugou was pleading with him.
“Why the hell should I?” He retorted, but it was obvious that it was mostly just for show when he threw himself back into his chair, glaring at the wall. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bakugou sit down gingerly at the edge of his bed. The clock—analog, because of course Bakugou had an analog clock—ticked on, refusing to let either of them forget just how long they were sitting there as the moment stretched on. Kirishima wasn't sure if the blond was getting his thoughts in order or figuring out how to let him down gently, but the anxiety of waiting for the hammer to fall was getting to him; he could tell he was irritating Bakugou with the way he alternated between picking at his nails and honest-to-god wringing his hands. It was only when Kirishima was genuinely considering just up and leaving that Bakugou finally spoke.
“I think I get it now,” he sighed. “Shit.”
“Are you going to fill me in or what?”
Bakugou blinked, clearly not expecting the attitude, and Kirishima almost scoffed. There was irony in there that, if he wasn't so focused on not fucking crying, Kirishima might've made a joke out of. Giving his head a little shake, Bakugou said nothing of it.
“I'm not tired of you,” he insisted, swatting at Kirishima’s hands until they finally fell limp in his lap. “It’s literally the fucking opposite. You're still my stupid best friend, I’ve just been acting like an idiot.”
“If you're looking for someone to argue, you’ve got the wrong guy,” Kirishima said snidely.
“Shut up and fucking listen to me, asshole. You said I've been blowing you off and shit, and I guess that’s true, I have, but not because of what you think. You know I'm…you know this is new to me,” he started, looking at Kirishima as if expecting him to understand. Kirishima blinked at him.
“What?”
“ This! ” Wildly, he gestured between the two of them, tongue poking at his cheek, clearly not wanting to be explicit in what he meant, but unfortunately for him, Kirishima wasn't great at this.
“What?” Kirishima repeated.
“ Friendship! ” Bakugou shouted. “God, you're such a dick. I'm not fucking used to this, alright? I'm not talking about one of two idiots who I can stand, cause I had you and Dunce and Tape Face following me around even in first year, but the others— it’s different. It’s different having so many people who actually fucking want to spend time with me. And—and you remember what that pink bitch said? It was a couple weeks ago, during that stupid rocket league tournament. Something about how we had to ‘treasure these moments’ or whatever because we were graduating soon?”
“…yeah,” Kirishima said dubiously, because he did remember that, but he also had no idea where Bakugou was going with this.
“I thought it was the stupidest shit at first,” Bakugou grumbled. “And then you said that shit about how much you would miss the idiots but you were sure you would all keep in touch or whatever?”
“I remember that, too. What’s your point, man?”
“My point is that I realized that I—I probably wouldn't,” the blond confessed, looking resolutely down at his bedspread. “I'm not good at that kind of stuff. So I decided I would—I would try now, before we all graduated and it was too late. Because as stupid and braindead as this class is, sometimes I can almost kind of stand them. And maybe I don't like that I'll probably never talk to them outside of hero work again,” he admitted. Slowly, the puzzle pieces were fitting into place in Kirishima’s mind, but it was almost worse now that he could understand Bakugou’s reasoning.
“That’s why I've been doing shit with them so much lately. I guess I want to…make the fucking most of it while I can, you know?”
“And you didn't want to make the most with me?” Kirishima asked, not quite managing to keep his voice steady. It seemed his worst fears were finally getting confirmed. He continued, ignoring the alarm on Bakugou’s face as his head whipped up. Moments before, Kirishima’s body was running hot, every nerve burning like a livewire, but now it was as if someone had poured ice water in his veins.
“We've barely talked lately, Bakugou. Do you really—am I not worth it? Worth making an effort for?”
Goddamnit, he was fully crying now. Furious at himself for the feelings he knew he couldn't control, Kirishima scrubbed at his eyes, covering his face in embarrassment, which was why he didn't notice Bakugou shuffling closer until a pair of strong arms manhandled him out of the chair and pulled him to Bakugou’s side.
“Not even close,” the blond murmured. His arms weren't locked around him, giving Kirishima an out if he wanted. For a second, the redhead resisted the urge, but the warmth of Bakugou’s body, rough palms and soft skin, was too enticing. Kirishima gave in and buried his face in Bakugou’s shoulder, lips pressed together in a futile effort to muffle his crying. In that single moment, dozens upon dozens of repressed tears were ripped out of him, nearly pulling Kirishima under the tide as he struggled to come up for air.
“You're different, Kiri. I couldn't see myself keeping in contact with any of them, ‘cept maybe Dunce Face and those fuckers, but you—you're the only one where I wouldn't even have to try.”
“What?” Kirishima heaved, voice thick with tears.
“And that’s why I didn't even think about making sure we hung out as usual,” Bakugou continued, as if he hadn't just shifted Kirishima’s entire world on its axis. Throughout it all, one hand stroked through Kirishima’s soft, feathery hair, the other rubbing circles on his back. “You've been in my plans for the future for three damn years, Kirishima. I didn't feel the need to—to rush things with you or whatever because—because this whole time I've been counting on you being there even after. After we graduate, after we move out, after we become top fucking heroes. You're always there. You've always been there, and I figured we would have time later. I'm sorry I made you feel like shit over this.”
Kirishima’s breath hitched. He clutched onto the blond’s quickly dampening t-shirt, eyes wide and unseeing as Bakugou’s words tumbled around his head. Eventually, he stopped trying to articulate himself, and just squeezed Bakugou even tighter, crying harder when his friend returned the hug by laying them both down, holding Kirishima tight.
“I'm sorry,” Bakugou repeated. The weight of his palm, a heavy, comforting presence at the back of Kirishima’s head, served as a focal point, grounding the redhead as he pulled himself together, sniffling and wiping his tears.
Pressing his face into the crook of Bakugou’s neck, Kirishima let out a shuddering breath, hearing a soft gasp from above. “You mean it?” He asked in a wobbly voice.
“When do I ever say things I don't mean?”
“All the damn time,” Kirishima sighed, the corner of his lips tugging up in what felt like his first smile in months when Bakugou smacked his arm, far lighter than the play-hits Kirishima was used to. If he were a more prideful person, say, someone like Bakugou, he might've thought he was being looked down on, just then, but all Kirishima really felt was warm.
“Thought you were sick of me,” he mumbled. “Thought you wanted to ditch me before graduation.”
“ Fuck no, Eiji.”
Kirishima’s breath caught in his throat. “Ei-Eiji?”
“That okay? Don't want you thinkin’ there’s a single fucking person I’d rather be with.”
“ Be with? ” Kirishima squeaked, digging his elbows into Bakugou’s chest as he propped himself up. He was pretty sure that if his body changed temperature any more drastically, he could get a genuine fever from the sheer shock flooding through his system that evening. Kirishima’s tears hadn't even dried on his cheeks when a smile crept over his face. “You like me?”
“I meant hang out with,” Bakugou clarified, face bright red and eyes fixed on the spot right above Kirishima’s head.
“Oh,” he sighed, flopping back down dejectedly. “Nevermind.”
“Eh? What, you wanted me to mean romantically?”
When he didn't immediately respond, too busy trying to come up with a believable lie, Bakugou clicked his tongue. “Answer the damn question, Ei,” he demanded. “Look at me.”
Kirishima gasped, all thoughts of lying stripped from his head as Bakugou tugged his head up by his hair, hand sliding down to cup his jaw and hold it in place. Unable to tear his eyes away from Bakugou, Kirishima simply stared, eyes widening at the wild, desperate look in the blond’s eyes. That, more than anything else, gave him the courage to continue. Bakugou wanted it. As much as Kirishima did, by the looks of it.
“I thought it was obvious,” he blurted, snorting when Bakugou shook his head fiercely. “I thought—God, Bakugou, did you really think you weren't it for me? It’s always been you. I thought maybe you had found out or something, and that was part of the reason why—”
Bakugou lurched forward, slamming his mouth to Kirishima’s, effectively cutting off the rest of his sentence with a kiss. The redhead let out a muffled yelp, hands scrabbling to tangle in a spiky mane of blond hair. He pushed himself up onto his knees, hovering over Bakugou and shuddering at the feeling of Bakugou settling his hands onto Kirishima’s waist, gently squeezing him, screaming I'm not going to let you go with everything except his words.
“Bakugou,” Kirishima panted, tearing his face away and flushing at the pop that sounded when their lips separated.
“Call me by my fucking name,” Bakugou snapped, sounding just as out of breath, looking up at Kirishima with lidded eyes. “Eijirou.”
“Okay, holy shit, okay Katsuki, I can't believe you kissed me!” Kirishima rambled. “Dude, mood whiplash, what the hell! Oh man, are you sure about this? ‘Cause I'm so, so sure about this, but, like, I really can't do friends with benefits or anything like that, so just be sure, please, and kiss me again.”
“Shut up, ” Bakugou groaned, but he was laughing as he pulled Kirishima in again. “Idiot. Do you even know me? I'm barely friends with you, I ain’t going to be friends with benefits. It’s boyfriend or nothing.”
“That doesn't even make sense,” Kirishima complained, letting himself fall limp, eliciting an oof from the blond, who took the opportunity to press chaste kisses all across Kirishima’s face. “You can't— jeez, Katsuki—be boyfriends without being friends, and— that tickles!— we’ve been friends since we met!”
“Nah, you were too dorky back then,” Bakugou mumbled into Kirishima’s jaw. He hesitated, pulling away just enough to hold eye contact, brushing his thumb along Kirishima’s cheekbone. “Hey. I'm sorry,” he repeated. “For real. I didn't realize how much I was pushing you away. I didn't mean to. You're my number one, Ei, that’ll never change,” he said, pressing another kiss to Kirishima’s lips, parted in shock. It was softer this time, but Kirishima thought that maybe it was his favorite one yet.
“It’s okay,” he said honestly. “Really. I could've just talked to you. Was just worried what you might say.”
“Don't pin this even a little bit on you, dumbass. I'll do better. Like hell am I not going to be the number one fucking boyfriend.”
Kirishima yelped a surprised laugh, hugging the blond even tighter at his declaration. “Yeah, well, you have competition. Me,” he elaborated, in case the third best student in the school hadn't realized. “Kat?”
“Hm?”
“I love you.”
Little sparks flew from Bakugou’s palms, leaving him red-faced and stumbling over his curses. “You can't—fuck that,” he seethed. “I'll do it better.”
Not yet, Kirishima’s mind supplied, and he was pleasantly surprised to find that he didn't really mind. He wasn't worried anymore. Bakugou was here, in his arms, and it was evident enough he wasn't planning on going anywhere. Those two awful, awful weeks of paranoia had been just that—paranoia.
“Hey,” Kirishima said again, not bothering to stifle a laugh at the squinting look on his new boyfriend’s face, obviously preparing for another relationship bombshell. “I'm really proud of you.”
This, however, Bakugou was not prepared for. “Huh?” He demanded, scowling hard and not quite managing to hide his disgruntled embarrassment. “The fuck are you talking about.”
“Like, all of my stupid thoughts the past few weeks aside—I'm really happy that you're hanging out with everybody and realizing how important they are to you.”
“Idiot, don't make it sound mushy,” Bakugou grumbled, fake gagging. At least, Kirishima sincerely hoped it was fake.
“Don't let this stop you from that, okay? Don't let me stop you. Promise me?” Kirishima asked.
“Whatever. They’ll never fuckin’ hold a candle to you, just so you know, but I'll make sure you really do know. Pound it into your head, how fuckin’ awesome I think you are.”
“... Cool.”