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School’s hard. Third year is no different. Each day only pushes them closer to branching out into the real world.
With or without an agency, they're on their own, for the most part. As exciting as it sounds, it's equally terrifying.
And being in school, with tests, exams, quizzes, and all the other stuff that makes high school high school only adds to the stress.
To Eijirou, this leaves only one solution. Sleepovers. Which, in hindsight, sounds like putting on a helmet after a motorcycle accident (but hear him out, ok?).
Eijirou’d first proposed it near the end of second year while barely conscious in the common room. After the rest of the class filed out, only he, Sero, and Mina remained. It was the last day of finals, and after all the training they'd done to combat stress and ease nerves, they were nothing short of exhausted.
Mina had been the one to kickstart the conversation, complaining about not being able to make it up the stairs necessary to make it to her dorm.
It spiraled from there. They’d soon find that all other options were either shot down or just. Unreasonable. Sero wouldn't carry Eijirou in fear of dislocating his shoulder after a previous incident. Besides, his floor was higher than everyone else’s. Teleportation wasn't a quirk of anybody's. The elevator was shut down—TL;DR, there was no hope.
Eijirou, the genius he is (being desperate and delirious does great things to the mind), suggested to camp out in the common room.
It was a good idea. Or good, enough, at least, as there were no other options, so of course they agreed.
After searching for blankets (and finding them piled over a box of cookies in the kitchen), they took their places in the common room and fell asleep. With the effort it took to find the covers, figure out sleep positions, and more, they might as well have taken the trip up the stairs. But maybe it served as an unspoken opportunity to get closer to one another.
It was supposed to be a one-time thing, a last-ditch effort, but other students caught wind of it too. After time, it wasn't uncommon to find Kaminari or Iida nestled into blankets on the floor, or Tokoyami and Jirou quietly watching movies as others rested.
Over time, it became the norm. Maybe even a staple, following the students into the third year. In fact, it’s become something so normal that many would ask why it wasn't something they did before.
Even if people didn't always come, they knew it was always available, ensuring that no matter how hard days got, there was always a day to unwind and forget about it for a while.
Which is what brings us here today, almost a year later. It's another one of those nights. After a particularly grueling week of school, Kirishima suggested to a few of his peers that they spend a Friday in the common room again… Except a few peers turned into ten people, leaving Eijirou between Bakugo and a loudly snoring Hagakure.
It's dark. Per usual. The TV is off. The last time he checked the time, it was midnight. He'd bet a quarter that at least thirty minutes had passed since then.
In other words: he can't sleep. This isn't uncommon, but usually, he'll drift off after attempting a few different sleeping positions. Doomscrolling usually helps, but cottage cheese waffles elecit a reaction so strong he can't help but want to stay up.
He huffs. Turning to the side he can see Bakugo’s resting figure. His covers appear to be pulled just below his nose, yet even in the dark, he can see that blonde puff of hair.
Heh. Wouldn't it be crazy if he were awake or something? He deflates. A shame he isn't.
…Unless?
He looks around the room, eyes catching on the different shapes of those who sleep around him, before landing back on Bakugo.
As quietly as he can manage, he whispers, “Bakugo.”
No answer. “Bakugo, you awake?”
He could’ve sworn he saw him blink. He rubs his eyes before opening them again and letting them adjust,
—And hey! What do you know, his eyes are open.
“Bakugo, I know you're awake.” Even with being called out, Bakugo remains still.
“Staring at the ceiling isn't going to make me disappear,” Eijirou says eventually.
A mumble, the shifting of blankets, and then, “God forbid I try.”
If it weren't for the fact that his friends were sleeping, he'd cheer as loud as he could. But Eijirou is a good friend, who also values his life.
“Finally. I've been trying to go to sleep for an hour. We should do something.”
Bakugo turns away from him almost immediately.
“What!? Come on, you can't sleep either. What're you gonna do, stare at your pillow for another hour?”
“Worth a try.” Eijirou faintly hears.
Well, he's not going to. Knowing Bakugo’s awake makes him even more against it.
In a rather bold move, he grabs the covers and pulls them entirely off Bakugo’s body. Even with them removed, he remains in a fetal position, facing away from Eijirou as if his life depends on it.
“We have nothing to do tomorrow. Live a little,” Eijirou teases.
Silence. Then one of the most exhausted sighs Eijirou's heard in his entire life. And he's heard a lot. Slowly, Bakugo rises, sitting up with his head down.
“Soo.. we’re going out?” Eijirou edges.
Bakugo looks at him, eyes looking sunken even in the dark. “Do I even have a choice?”
Eijirou smiles. He knows the answer to his very own question.
Sneaking out of school isn't as hard as most believe it to be. The hardest part is making sure the person you’re sneaking out with doesn’t die on the way down.
Katuski squints in the dark as he stares at Eijirou's figure, perched on the edge of the balcony, hands gripping the edges. For someone who proposed the idea in the first place, he's terrified.
“Kirishima,” He sighs. “Just. Hop. Down.”
“It's scary!” he whisper-yells. It's a good distance from the ground, he’ll admit—but this is the same person who’s jumped off of buildings.
“You snuck out, like, two weeks ago. You've jumped off of this before, how does it—”
“—Stop reprimanding me! Or whatever the word is. It doesn't get any less scary!” His hands have tightened on the ledge, knuckles paling. As seconds pass, his eyes don't get any less frantic.
“Do you want me to catch you or something?” It's a last-ditch effort, honestly more of a joke. But as he watches Kirishima's eyes brighten, he accepts that this truly might be the only way.
“Really?” he says as dreamily as ever. He doesn't even have to see him clearly to know there are stars in his eyes. Dumbass.
“Are you—” he doesn't know why he’s surprised, honestly. He sighs, before extending his arms. “Just. Don't kill me. Please.”
“I'll try,” Kirishima says sweetly, ever so thoughtful.
He prepares to jump. Bakugo doesn't know why he ever agreed to this.
He keeps his arms extended, head jerked back to avoid getting his jaw dislocated.
“Ready?” Kirishima asks, voice shaky.
“As ready as I'll ever be,” Bakugo says in an attempt to be sarcastic, even though this very well may be his last attempt.
“I'm gonna do it, ok? I'm gonna do it in—”
“For fucks sake, just do it! For how long we've been out here we could've snuck out the front.”
“Ok. Yeah.” A sigh, perhaps to ease his nerves. “Ok. Sorry.” Kirishima readjusts his position on the railing. His mouth continues to move, perhaps silently reassuring himself.
After a minute has passed he's prepared to climb up there himself. But before he can even utter a word, Kirishima is falling, giving Bakugo mere seconds to firm his stance and catch him.
Or, not catch, but rather act as the pillow that softens his fall.
Katsuki painfully hits the ground. Kirishima avoids the pain entirely, landing on top of Katsuki.
He groggily raises his head. Kirishima beams. Bakugo regrets agreeing to this.
“Dude, that was awesome! Thanks, seriously.” He hops on his feet, uninjured and unbruised from the building's hard ass floor.
“Anytime,” Katsuki grits out through clenched teeth. Kirishima reaches his hand out, helps him up, and they're on their way to the sidewalk.
“Hm.” Eijirou stops, just as they make it to the front of the building. “No one's outside anymore.”
“That's because no one was ever outside,” Bakugo deadpans. “Wanna know why no one's outside?” Kirishima waits, expectant. “Because it’s twelve in the morning.”
“Ok, maybe not this time—remember Kaminari said he saw some girls or something?”
“It was probably Jirou and Momo coming back in before curfew.”
“Either way! Someone was out! Besides.” He continues to walk again, stupidly slow, eyes darting from tree to tree as if watching out for someone or something, “It's more adventurous this way.”
Katsuki inhales so deeply he feels his head lighten, “I still don't know why I’m still friends with you.”
“You love me, obviously.”
Bakugo doesn't deny it.
“And, of course, my smarts, my muscles, my charm—”
“Stop talking.”
Kirishima sighs sadly, but his smile is enough of a sign to know he isn’t bothered.
After more sighs and regret, they begin their walk to the gas station.
They've walked there before. Thankfully, it's not too far from their dorms. Just short enough that a car is unnecessary, but just long enough that they can get a decent walk in.
Most of the walk is quiet. Which, to most, would be surprising, as they're always talking. But there’s no rush to get words out when it’s just them, the entire world before them. Kirishima will occasionally point out a stick that looks similar to a sword. Bakugo will grunt, just enough of a response to tell Kirishima that he's there, listening.
They don't do this much. Bakugo doesn't see why.
After ten minutes the convenience store is approaching, bright white lights and neon signs to attract visitors such as themselves.
“A sale,” Kirishima says, eyes wide as he looks at the flyer plastered onto the window. “Hero sodas. Buy one get two.”
Bakugo wrinkles his nose. “Isn't this where we got that All Might one?” Katsuki’s tried his fair share of All-Might-inspired sodas. That was the first one he ever tried that was banana flavored.
“That banana one? It wasn't my favorite but it wasn't that bad.” He gasps dramatically when Katsuki stays silent. “You aren't seriously going to pass up on it because of that, are you? Just get a different hero!”
“The entire point of buying a hero soda is to get the soda of the hero you like the most,” He says as they approach the front of the store, “Why would I defeat that purpose to try ones that probably aren't any better?”
“They have seven different flavors. There's gotta be one you like.” Eijirou brightens as if a bell has rung in his head, “That Crimson Riot one! The cherry one? You said it was ok.” he says it as if trying to tempt him.
“I was being nice,” Katsuki grumbles. Truthfully, it wasn't bad at all, artificially sweet in a way that was comforting rather than annoying. Though after that disgrace of a soda he’d been so excited to try, he doesn't feel comfortable supporting anything else the company has to offer, even if it is better.
Kirishima shrugs, “More for me, then.”
As soon as they step inside they’re bombarded by the bright, fluorescent lights that illuminate the store. It's not very busy, but he can see a few lingering around the snack aisle.
Said snack aisle is, of course, colorful, with a wide array of snacks both savory and sweet. Katsuki walks to the far left of the aisle for the spicier options. ‘Hot fries’ are unfortunately out of stock, but Katsuki goes for the next best thing and gets ‘Hot rings.’ Maybe not as good as the fries, but good enough, right?
“I think I found something you’d like!” Kirishima shouts from the aisle across Katsuki’s, “Remember Moko?”
In the distance, he holds up candy that you have to make and eat out of a toilet. Katsuki pales. Kirishima can’t stop laughing.
“Wanna get it?”
“You wouldn't dare.” He turns right back to his aisle, suddenly very eager to find something equally repulsive.
The search ends quickly when his eyes land on a familiar bag of ‘Flamin’ beef jerky.’
He holds up the bag as high as he can. “Sure you don't wanna try these again?”
Kirishima looks at the bag and pales as he reads the title. “Real low, dude. Real low.”
Not many moons ago (two months ago), Kirishima picked up a bag while getting a soda for Midoriya. In other words, Kirishima was on the toilet for three days.
Artwork by Abz
The rest of the trip turns into a hate-fueled search for the most disgusting snacks they can find. Katsuki makes a good attempt with his ‘Cheese Flavored Ice Cream’ and ‘Mustard Popcorn,’ but Kirishima ultimately wins with ‘Salted Spider Bites’ and, his ultimate nemesis, All-Might banana soda.
“You used my words against me.” Katsuki says as he swipes his card at the checkout line, having to pay for mochi, hot rings, regular jerky, and three banana-flavored All-Might sodas.
“Sorry, Bakugo, didn't know I was traveling with a baby.”
The cashier chuckles. Katsuki doesn't think he's wanted to hop over a counter more.
Outside is darker than it was before. Taking a quick look at his phone tells him that it's 1:30 A.M., two hours past curfew, and more than an hour since they've left.
They could've cut it way down if they walked a little faster, and didn't take so long finding whatever atrocities they could in the convenience store, but truthfully, Katsuki doesn't mind.
The way home is chattier than the walk to the store, but still hushed nonetheless. As if talking too loudly could disturb the peace that encompasses them.
“It doesn't feel like we should be out here,” Kirishima says eventually. “Like it’s illegal.”
They aren't supposed to be out here, because of curfew and such, but Katsuki doesn't correct him, knowing what he means.
“It also feels good, though?” Katsuki turns to look at him, curious. “I mean—I don't know. It’s kind of childish, but it makes this more fun, y’know? Of course, I'm scared of Aizawa-sensei beating my ass, but being out here this late makes it kinda worth it.”
When Katsuki doesn't respond Kirishima takes to looking at the ground, open hand closing into a fist, “Sorry, that was... corny.”
“Stop apologizing, jackass,” Katsuki says, nudging his shoulder. Then, softer, “...I get it. S’ peaceful. No one yelling in my ear.”
Kirishima chuckles, kicking a pebble on the sidewalk, “Definitely. But,”
Seconds pass and he doesn't continue. Bakugo slows his footsteps, watching him expectantly. “But what?”
Eijirou sheepishly raises his head, before saying, “But you being here makes it better.”
His mind goes blank. Suddenly, Katsuki doesn't have very much to say.
He knows what this is. What Kirishima means. He's been meaning to acknowledge it—but to do that right now, on this sidewalk in the dark. It feels impossible.
“I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Just forget I said anything—”
“What’d I tell you about apologizing, Kirishima?” he says, but it's louder, more aggressive than he means to be. “So damn hard on yourself, it’s annoying.”
Katsuki stops. Kirishima stops right beside him, like he always does. Because he's always in line with him, whether it's in combat, in movements, in walking or talking. He's always right there.
“I don’t mind being around you either,” Katsuki croaks out. Embarrassingly his chest begins to tighten. To think that to talk about what's on his mind is so hard that doing so makes a physical reaction. If he were worse he'd stop talking entirely, spare himself and his pride, but he knows this is something Kirishima needs to hear.
“I never know what to say.” He starts. “Never know what to do to show you that. So I'll say it here, ok? So you won't forget it.”
He swallows, his throat and mouth dry as if he hasn’t drank in weeks. This isn't hard. Speaking, even if he isn't the best at it, should be anything but hard. But anything involving red hair, tan skin, dimples and stupid smiles are enough to complicate the act of breathing.
He swallows once more. “If I had to do anything with anybody, I'd want that person to be you.”
There. It's out. It's done and over with.
The last part is the quietest. But it's just loud enough for Kirishima to hear.
No one speaks. It sounds as if even the wind, that once shook the trees and messed up his hair, has taken a pause. There are no footsteps, no speaking, just silence that forces Katsuki to stand here and lay himself completely bare.
After a minute Katsuki thinks he’s fucked everything up. This trip. Their relationship, everything.
But with watery eyes, Kirishima shoves his face into Katsuki’s shoulder, soaking his sleeve.
“Baby,” Katsuki jokes, but he rubs Kirishima’s back anyway. "I barely said ten words—"
"Fifteen." Kirishima corrects. A pause, and then, “You mean a lot to me, Bakugo—”
“—Katsuki, idiot,” he corrects. “I’ve told you that.”
Kirishima—Eijirou, shrugs. “I know.” A pause. Then, quieter, “...Just hard to get used to, y’know?”
“I do. Y’know.”
Eijirou elbows him in the chest, and Katsuki erupts in loud, obnoxious laughter. Maybe the confession, if you'd even call it that, isn't that serious. But to him, it is. And that's enough, isn't it?
“You’re a jerk,” Eijirou says. But there's something in his eyes that finishes the rest of his sentence, something that says I care about you. I'm here for you. A look he only recognizes because he’s seen it on himself.
If he looks closer he sees something else. Something softer, something more honest. But that's something to address another day. One confession at a time.
Eijirou checks his phone, clock reading 1:52.
“We should probably continue the journey home,” he says, but there's a smirk on his face that tells him he means to do anything but that.
“Guess we should, huh?”
Eijirou only responds by booking it down the sidewalk.
—
Turns out, ‘home’ is a playground only a few minutes away from the gas station.
Eijirou slumps against the chain, kicking the pebbles next to his feet. Who knew repeatedly jumping off of a swing mid air would be so tiring?
He sighs, but in the middle of it there's a nudge on his arm. Katsuki passes him the All Might banana soda, once a third empty and now halfway empty.
He chuckles before grabbing it himself. “So much for not liking it.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he hears Katsuki say from beside him. Eijirou drinks the soda once more, smacking his lips together before ultimately coming to the conclusion that this…really isn't good at all.
“Y’know,” he starts, taking another quick swig from the bottle, “I think you were right. This soda kinda sucks.”
“When am I ever wrong?” Katsuki jokes. Eijirou’s too tired to even offer him a laugh.
After looking around in boredom, his eyes catch on the white convenience store bag he placed beside him. He reaches into it, pulling out the three-pack of mochi. Strawberry. Matcha. Chocolate. All mediocre and sickeningly sweet, even for him, but he can't complain when he got it for ¥594.
He tears open the bag and bites into the strawberry, and groans as the sweetness hits his tongue. Katsuki eyes him judgementally.
Swallowing, he reaches his arm out, waving the piece in Katsuki’s face. “Want some?”
“Not really.” Eijirou moves it closer. Katsuki backs up as if being near it puts him at risk of contracting rabies.
“It's better than the soda, at least?” Eijirou tries. Not much better at all, but what Katsuki doesn't know won't hurt him, right?
Katsuki still looks suspicious, but slowly, he moves closer, and after eyeing it himself, takes a bite of it.
Eijirou finally relaxes, watching Katsuki go through eighteen different expressions as he chews. If he didn't know any better, he’d think he was chewing on glass.
He finally swallows, before turning to Eijirou and saying as flatly as he can, “That’s disgusting.”
“Better than the soda?” Eijirou asks, biting both of his cheeks to keep in the laughter that would come out otherwise.
“Anything’s better than the soda.”
They share the rest of the pack. Eijirou feeding him the mochi, and Katsuki rating them.
In ten minutes, both the soda and the mochi are gone. In five more, they're on the ground, laying on their backs on the dark grit below them.
The skies’ darker—which Eijirou didn't think was possible. But he also didn't think he'd manage to get Katsuki to come out with him, so what does he know, really.
There is no tension. The only sound is the wind and their breathing. But despite how well the night's been going, his head continues to ruin it.
“You look angry.” He hears. Eijirou turns.
Katsuki stares back at him, brows raised, genuinely curious.
“I’m not angry,” Eijirou says. Because he isn’t. Maybe a little angry at himself, for talking a bunch so the time, yet the one time it counts he's speechless.
“What are you, then?” It's not supposed to be a question that frustrates him, but it does. Because frankly, he doesn't know how he feels. There's not really a reason to be sad. Or angry. Or frustrated or whatever. But there's so much he wants to say and seemingly so little time to say it.
Eijirou settles on a shrug. In the corner of his eye, he can see Katsuki turn to once again face the stars.
That tension is back, except this time it's of his own doing. A slight pinch from his nails digging into his palms, the pressure from his teeth piercing his tongue. He takes a breath, then two, and then:
“I—” A second passes, “I honestly don't want to go back.”
Next to him, there’s movement, “Huh?”
“I don't want to go back. To the dorms.” Eijirou keeps his eyes locked on the moon, on every constellation he can find to avoid his eyes, his questions.
“Oh.” Katsuki says simply. “...why?”
Heat rises to his ears, the top of his cheeks. Not a single bone in his body can control the ear to ear smile that spreads across his face.
“Why’re you smiling like that?” Katsuki asks, but the way he says it makes it sound like he's smiling, too.
“I think it's because I'm with you.”
Katsuki doesn't respond. Not with a sigh, a grunt. But it doesn't scare him this time.
“I’m eternally grateful for cottage cheese pancakes.” He says. Or were they waffles? Or was it ice cream?
He's never purposely used eternally in a sentence, so perhaps it's the delirium talking.
The silence draws on. His eyelids have started to become heavy. For a moment, he forgets where he is. Forgets about the swings, the store, the mochi that he know will upset his stomach.
But there's more movement, as if someone is moving closer to him. And then there's a hand that slowly, and softly, raises his head.
Eijirou’s eyes shoot open. Katsuki stares back down at him, brows slightly furrowed and concentrated—but his eyes are soft. Patient.
And he's seen it many times in many different ways. But something about seeing it here, at the playground, under the stars, with time stopped just for them. It makes him feel funny.
Katsuki gently rests Eijirou’s head on his crossed legs, before taking his hands and lightly playing with his hair.
The stars start to look bigger. The moon brighter. And for a second, just a second, the sky looks as if he’ll never have to worry about a thing ever again.
“I had fun too,” Katsuki says, barely audible.
Eijirou starts to smile again, hand reaching up to boop the tip of Katsuki’s nose. “Good to know the feeling is mutual.”
Katsuki grunts, but Eijirou can see the whisper of a smile.
He lets his eyes close. A minute has passed when soft, warm lips press a kiss into his forehead. Eijirou flushes again.
“D’you think we should go home?” Eijirou slurs.
Katsuki shifts, seemingly to lay down himself. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
Eijirou’s never went to sleep hoping a bridge burned down. Nor has he ever been grateful for TikTok’s god awful protein hacks. But tonight has been a night for many firsts, hasn’t it?