Chapter Text
It was another quiet night, a night like many others, but that didn’t change the fact that this particular one chose to make Kirishima feel like crap.
It was a school night, but the redhead was still lounging around in Bakugou’s room, not caring about the fact that it was getting late. He didn’t really function well in class that day, he barely understood Present Mic’s English lessons, and he was total shit at All Might’s Heroics Class. Maybe all that had to do with the growing, empty feeling inside his chest that was gnawing away at him by the minute.
His instincts drive him to speak.
“Are you okay with me?”
He clutched at the front of his shirt and bit his lip with his back turned to Bakugou, but that didn’t stop him from feeling the sharp gaze that the blond suddenly shot at him.
“Huh?” The latter asked in the way he did everything; a little bit hurried and angry.
“Are you okay with me?” Kirishima repeats, but this second time it’s slower; mellower. It’s like he’s choosing his words carefully and treating them like glass that might break any moment, and apparently, Bakugou wasn’t used to it.
“What the fuck?”
Bakugou isn’t touching him in any way and they were one foot apart, but he feels the anger and concern practically emanating off of him. Kirishima shudders as goosebumps erupt on his skin.
And then Bakugou gets close, close enough that he had his arms wrapped around Kirishima’s waist and tugging him towards his own body. Close enough that he could nuzzle at the small of Kirishima’s back.
Kirishima doesn’t want to cry, but his body feels dangerously close to letting him break. It was like every bad feeling that he was enduring the whole day were bubbling together, dangerously close to the boiling point until it all burst out and took everything by storm.
“I-It’s just—“ he barely chokes out, as if there’s a giant lump in his throat that prevented him from projecting his feelings into words. “It’s just… one of those days.”
He hoped and prayed Bakugou understood—they’ve talked about this countless times enough to make Bakugou weave the words into intricate braids. But another part of him is sulking, turning away from the so-obvious truths that on a normal night Kirishima would have understood like one plus one equaled to two.
Bakugou grumbled and his grip on Kirishima’s waist tightens. The latter felt vibrations on his back as he struggled to hear what Bakugou was mumbling on his skin. “—if only I could just fucking blast away your shit depression—“ were the only things Kirishima could catch.
They were enough.
Bakugou wasn’t good with words, he didn’t like projecting his feelings into letters and sentences because he preferred actions. Bakugou spoke through explosions and subtle hints of affection behind aggressiveness.
It was enough.
Even now, Kirishima thinks, as Bakugou was saying nothing and it was just the two of them in the dark, silent room. Even now, as Kirishima’s depression was scraping at his surface and waiting to strike at him full force like a tiger awaiting his prey. Even now, he knew that he had fallen too hard with no other way to get back up, it was okay. It was Bakugou.
He was enough.
They wake up as if they had been kissing with their eyes closed: Kirishima was lying down with his head turned and his mouth millimeters away from where it wanted to be on Bakugou’s own, his arm was pressed against Bakugou’s chest, and the blond’s leg was draped over his back.
A crick in his neck stirred as he turned his body slightly, Bakugou’s leg shifting and falling beside him. The blond’s eyes flutter open, crimson meeting crimson in such a close range that he could see the reflection of Bakugou’s eyelashes against his pupils.
“Good morning,” Kirishima moves his head closer, closing the space between them as he mumbled against Bakugou’s lips.
Bakugou huffs and snuggles closer. “It’s fucking five am.”
“We should get ready, in a moment,” he says, but Kirishima closes his eyes once more, basking in the feeling of their shared body warmth providing enough comfort from the air conditioner. He felt much, much better than last night, but he knew the feeling would return sooner or later. But—that didn’t matter right now.
Kirishima kisses Bakugou with his eyes still closed and his heart soaring.