Archive of Our Own

Kirishima Eijirou was what you would call a ‘dreamy boy’. In his every-day life in a quiet vicinity in Kyoto Prefecture, his head was more often than not in places far away from the present time, and it was easy to tell when he was not paying attention by the absent look on his shiny eyes. He enjoyed coming up with fantastic scenarios and got easily distracted. That’s why he enjoyed the world of dreams. Every morning, immediately after waking up, he would grab the pen and notebook on his bedside table and write down what he could remember of last night’s dream. He had read somewhere that this was a good exercise for the brain, improving his short-term memory and creativity, and that it would eventually allow him to decide what he dreamed.

He woke up at 6:37 (half an hour earlier than usual) one Monday morning and wrote:

I was walking down a long road by the river. It was really hot, so after a while I decided to take a break and run downhill into the water. After swimming for a while, I came outside and sat on the grass. It was then that I noticed there was another person there, on the opposite shore. A blond boy. He was about my height and I guess he was around my age too. He was looking at me. He wore an angry expression. I was going to say something, but he started walking away.

Kirishima was familiar with the art of dream interpretation. He wouldn’t say he believed in it one-hundred-percent, but he did like to think there was meaning behind these strange nighttime stories. Rivers meant a pivotal change or decision in your life. While tumultuous waters predicted disagreements and misery, a clear, smooth, flowing river like the one in his dream was an omen of happiness and prosperity. Therefore, he was very excited about the day to come.

Unfortunately, it turned out to be another usually boring Monday, with the same usually boring high-school classes and the same incredibly boring homework. As a disappointed Kirishima went to bed that night, he thought maybe the river was a sign of long-term changes.

He then remembered the other character in his dream. He didn’t know the symbolism of blond boys, but for some reason he felt it was important. He turned off the lamp on his bedside table.

He would find out soon enough.

He woke up with a light headache. That same dream again?.

Bakugou Katsuki grabbed his mobile phone and checked the time. 6:05A.M. Shit. This was the fourth night in a row he had that weird dream and woke up before the alarm went off.

The dream wasn’t weird per se. There was a wide river and he stood next to it, waiting, and then a red mop of hair came running from uphill, on the opposite shore, and plunged into the water. What was weird was the fact of having that same boring dream every night. The red-haired boy didn’t seem to notice him until he laid down on the riverside. Normally, Bakugou would start walking away, not interested, and the dream would end there.

But on the fifth night, something changed. Instead of laying down, the redhead stood, wet and out of breath, and he waved his hand. “Hey! Over there! Blondy!”

Bakugou’s brow twitched at the nickname. What the fuck? “What did you just call me, you fucker?”

He was getting angry in his own dream. Fantastic.

“Wow, so you actually talk! This dream is more detailed than I thought!”

Tell me about it.

“Anyway, why are you always so angry?”

Katsuki couldn't believe the gall of this guy. “What?!”

The redhead brought his hands around his mouth, as to project his voice farther. “I SAID, WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS FROWNING?!”

Bakugou couldn’t believe he was being called out by a product of his imagination. “BECAUSE YOU’RE FUCKING ANNOYING, THAT’S WHY!” With that, he turned around and trotted off. Then he woke up.

He sure has a foul mouth, that boy.

On his way back from class, Kirishima recalled the previous night’s events. After exchanging his first words with the ash-blond, which was good for a change - he was getting bored of having the exact same dream night after night -, he was convinced there was more to him than just a creation of his mind.

He had made up his mind: that night, he would come face to face with that moody kid.

Soon enough, it was 11PM and he had finished the biology project due the next day, so he wasted no more time and got in bed. He closed his eyes, feeling excited for what was to come. He played the scene in his mind, thinking of what he would say to the ash-blond when he swam across the river to confront him...

But when sleep came over, he found himself not near the calm stream of water, but on a battlefield. That’s the conclusion he came to, because there were loud sounds, like that of explosions, and screams. Dirt and dust were flying everywhere.

As he took in his surroundings, he realized this place must have been a commercial district, if the numerous wrecked buildings and the mob of citizens running around in panic were anything to go by.

“WATCH OUT, DUMBASS!”

Before Eijirou had time to see it coming, something big collided with his right side, sending him flying out of the way. A deafening sound and a wave of heat followed, making him shrink into fetal position in fear. He ignored his throbbing head after the hard landing and opened his eyes. Where he had been standing mere seconds before now laid a smashed tourist bus, and there was something standing on top of it, or rather, someone. “Blondy???” he exclaimed “Is that you again?!”

“I TOLD YOU TO STOP CALLING ME THAT!” The boy jumped abnormally high - Wait, was that an explosion coming out of his hands? - and landed next to Eijirou.

“Get the fuck up already, we need to get away from here.” He extended a hand for the redhead to take.

It was then that he noticed his odd clothes. Eijirou burst out laughing. “Oh my god, ppppffffff, blondy! What are you wearing?!”

The blond wore a fitted black sleeveless V-neck tank top with an orange X across his chest, black baggy pants and black, knee-high combat boots. What struck Kirishima as ridiculously funny were the grenade-like gauntlets on his biceps - damn, this man is ripped - and the large, flare-shaped mask on his face, which was now wearing an intimidating expression.

“Do you have a bloody death wish?!” The kid shouted. “Have you even taken a look at yourself, shitty-hair?”

What?  Eijirou looked down at his own clothes. WHY AM I SHIRTLESS? Embarrassed, he tried to hide his bare chest with his arms, which were covered in soft, black sleeves connected to gear-shaped shoulder paths. He was also wearing a ripped red skirt over dark gray pants. Noticing something on his face, he brought his hands to his cheeks and touched what must have been a jawguard.

“Stop gawking and move your ass. They’ll be coming soon.” The angry boy turned around to take a quick glance behind the wall they were leaning against.

“Who will be coming?” Eijirou questioned.

As soon as he asked that, said wall blew up in pieces. The force of the blow sent them flying a few meters away. Kirishima rose his head and looked over his shoulder. There stood a giant spider-like robot that looked eager to slay them to pieces. Eijriou couldn’t help the squeal that escaped his mouth. Fuck, I hate spiders. He externalized his next thought, product of his primal survival instinct. “RUN!"

He clumsily got up and sprinted off in the opposite direction of the beast. He took a quick glance behind him and saw the ash-blond wasn’t following him, so he stopped dead. “HEY! WHAT ARE YOU-“

Just then, an explosion blew the creepy machine up, and this time Eijirou actually saw the blast coming out from the boy’s hands. He immediately run up to him. “That was SO COOL! How did you do that?!”

“I don’t know, I just did.” He answered with a proud grin.

“So you have, like, superpowers now? Maaaan, I’m jealous!”

So manly!

“Yeah well, there’s no time for that, more are coming!”

Just as the blond had said, four, no, six robots materialized in front of them. With a guttural growl, the ash-blond threw himself at them. Eijirou stayed back; he wanted to help, but he didn’t know how. Then, one of the robots began shooting at him. Oh shit, I’m gonna die! He brought his arms up and crossed them in front of his face, as if that alone would protect him. But, in fact, none of the bullets made it through his skin. They just…bounced off?

Looking at himself, Eijirou saw his skin was no longer smooth, but rock hard. His muscles were sharp and heavy-looking.

The robot, confused, kept shooting bullets at him. Eijirou took one step back for impulse and jumped, his hardened fist breaking through the metal as it made contact with the spider. Awesome!. “HEY, BLONDY! Look how cool this is! I have superpowers too!” He ran towards the boy, beating another enemy on his way.

“STOP CALLING ME THAT, DUMBASS!”

They were now standing back to back, surrounded by five new violent machines.

“On the count on three?” Eijirou smiled. This was so much fun. What a cool dream!

“Okay. One… two… DIEEE!!!”

It was all a mess of explosions, kicks, metal screeching and loud screaming. Eijirou fought leisurely, his new-found ability absorbing the blows. He could see out of the corner of his eyes his teammate’s blasts propelling him into the air.

When they were finished, all the robots laying now smashed on the floor, the two boys looked at each other, a satisfied smile on their faces.

“Name’s Kirishima Eijirou.” He extended his hand.

The blond stared at it for a moment, then shook it with determination. “And I’m Bakugou Katsuki.”

They kept meeting like that for weeks. Every night a different scenario unfolded before him, be it a ski station on a mountain, a pirate ship in the middle of the ocean, a submarine world filled with mermaid people or, the most ridiculous so far, a pizza-delivery service.

However, the one Katsuki enjoyed the most by far was the superhero timeline. It was a recurring motif and he registered it had some sort of continuity across dreams. Apparently he was a student of a very prestigious academy for superheroes, and Kirishima was one of his classmates. In his dreams, Katsuki was determined to become the Number One hero, and he had his sweet time working for it.

It was the most fun he had had in years. To tell the truth, he didn’t have that many friends in real life, his bad temper making him something of an outcast. But in U.A. - that was what the name of the Hero Academy - everybody seemed to accept him and admire him, or at least they didn’t reject him openly. He wasn’t all smiles and laughs with everybody, there was this character called Deku that really got on his fuckin’ nerves, but even with him he had his fair share of fun, patrolling the city in search of villains to beat.

Then there was Kirishima. Sweet, gullible, energetic Kirishima.

Bakugou began to worry. This wasn’t normal. Meeting the same person every single night in his dreams was creepy. It gave off the same odd feeling that little kids’ imaginary best friends. Did I ever know anyone called Kirishima? A kindergarten friend or something? Maybe I should ask the old hag…

No. He wouldn’t tell anyone. At least not yet. They would either immediately brush it off and leave him frustrated, or freak out and take him to therapy. It’s not like they were bad dreams, anyway. In fact, he found himself looking forward to nighttime. Maybe I have a thing for redheads. He blushed at his own thoughts. What the hell?. He finished washing his teeth and turned off the bathroom’s lights, leaving his bedroom in a quiet darkness.

Okay, maybe he had thought Kirishima was hot once or twice during their adventures. But damn, the boy had an admirably muscular body, that was just an objective fact. And they worked really well together, their quirks being so compatible. What he felt was mere admiration, not fixation.

I wouldn’t mind slapping that pretty ass, though...

Okay, enough. He didn’t want to go to sleep with that kind of images in his mind. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, feeling his shoulders relax.

When he opened them, he was surrounded by green. A deep forest spread out before him, the only thing he could hear was the gentle fluttering of the leaves and the chirping of the birds. He turned around, looking for Kirishima. Where is that shitty-head?. He noticed there was something heavy on his shoulders. Katsuki looked at his back and saw a lot of fur and a red piece of cloth. A cape? Looking at his front, he saw a bunch of tribal necklaces hanging on his bare chest. Together with his bright colored wristbands and the large kneepads over his pants, he looked like the leader of a clan. Okay, so I guess no hero duty tonight… But seriously, what am I dressed as? Some kind of barbarian?.

His thoughts were interrupted by an earthquake. It must’ve been an earthquake, because the earth roared, the forest started shaking, trees tilting and animals fleeing.

Again. This time, the noise felt louder, nearer. Had he not known better, he would’ve thought it was an animal bellowing, but no animal could make such a noise.

Then, he saw it. A mountain of red.

No, not a mountain.

A dragon.

Bakugou stayed still, frozen in place. “Holy. Shit.”. The dragon looked at him. He ran.

“HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT - FUCK”. He wasn’t fast enough. He knew he wasn’t fast enough. A mother-fucking 10-feet tall dragon was coming after him and he didn’t stand a damn chance, but there was nothing else he could do. Katsuki jumped over the trees’ roots and bent over to avoid their branches. He slid down a sloped hill and hurried across a wild field with knee-high grass. Then he reached a dead end.

A waterfall.

“Damn it!” he breathed. It was a huge fall. He wouldn’t make it. Probably.

So, what’s it gonna be? Devoured by a huge beast or drowned in a cascade?. He heard the dragon’s growl getting closer. Water it is. He took off his cape and furry boots. He was a good swimmer; if he managed a good landing, he could survive. Hopefully. Where the fuck is that redhead when I need him? Bakugou swore he heard the dragon roaring right behind him and he jumped.

He screamed, dizziness caused by the height and increasing speed making his stomach churn. Through the raindrops falling into his eyes he saw, still at a distance, the end of the fall. Rocks. I’m FUCKED.

And suddenly, Katsuki was no longer falling, he was flying. He gasped loudly. He was flying on the dragon’s back.

“HOLY CRAP,” he screamed. To say his heart was racing would be an understatement. The dragon flapped his wings strongly, making the ash-blond lose balance. He grabbed the beast’s scales in panic, holding on for dear life. He pulled himself up and climbed until he was sitting on its neck, holding on to the strong horns on its head.

The thrill of the chase, the adrenaline after the fall, the fact that he was riding a motherfucking dragon, had a smile making its home on Katsuki’s face. He howled, euphoric, arms extended away from his body. “Man, Kirishima would love this,” he sighed.

The dragon growled, moving its head. Bakugou’s belly did a backflip. “Heeey, easy boy! Shiiit! That was dangerous.”

The dragon growled again, huffing through his nose. Then it clicked.

“…Kirishima?”

The dragon howled. It showed Bakugou its sharp teeth in a… grin?

“Oh my god, it’s you! Kirishi-SHITTY-HAIR, STOP MOVING SO MUCH, I’M GONNA FALL!”

They kept flying for a while, enjoying the cool breeze and the nice view from above. Katsuki noticed they were losing height. He patted Kirishima’s neck. “Hey, Kirishima, are you getting tired yet?” They were losing height at an alarming rate. He saw the dragon’s eyes were blank. He patted him harder. “Kirishima! What’s wrong!”

He wasn’t responding. They were gonna fall. Katsuki braced himself for impact, hugging his arms tightly around the beast’s neck.

They landed on a thickly vegetated area, Eijirou’s wide body taking down trees on its way. Katsuki tightened his grip, arms now touching each other behind the redhead’s neck. Had he shrunk? They hit the ground with a loud thud and were sent rolling on their backs far away. When they came to a stop, Bakugou took three deep breaths. He didn’t think he had anything broken. He opened his eyes and saw the familiar redhead’s face between his arms. He carefully laid him down on the floor. “Hey, shitty-hair, wake up.” Katsuki stood on his knees next to him and slapped him lightly on the cheek. Still no answer. He put his hand under the unconscious boy’s nose. He was breathing. Katsuki left out a sigh.

He noticed there was a little bit of dirt on Kirishima's forehead. He rested his weight on his left hand, near Kirishima’s head, and he loomed over him to brush it off with his right. He stayed like that, observing, studying, admiring. He thought that, for a dream, it was incredibly detailed.

He is beautiful.

His hand went from the redhead’s forehead to his eyebrow, to the scar on his right eye (How had he not noticed that before?) and his cheek, brushing it lovingly. Then it went down to his lips. He traced them slowly, gently, marveling in the tenderness of the moment.

Damn, I wanna kiss him.

It was a stupid idea.

For one, that was sexual assault.

Secondly, he wasn’t real. The sleeping beauty before him only existed in his dreams.

But what were dreams for if he couldn’t do whatever he wanted in them?

It was selfish, but this was his dream, so fuck it.

So Katsuki approached the redhead, slowly, eyes never leaving his lips. When their noses were nearly touching, he took a quick glance at his eyes.

They were wide open.

“What the f-KIRISHIMA, YOU FUCKER, YOU NEARLY GAVE ME A HEART ATTACK!” Bakugou, with a deep blush spreading up to his ears, pushed the boy’s head away, jumping up on his feet.

Kirishima sat up, leaning on one hand, the other coming up to his temple. “Dude, careful! I feel like I just woke up from a freakin’ coma.”

“Oh, shut up, you drama-queen!” Katsuki rolled his eyes; they landed on Kirishima’s torso. Does he never wear a t-shirt?  Then they went further down still.

Oh.

He turned around at the speed of light. “PUT SOME FUCKIN’ CLOTHES ON, SHITTY-HAIR!!”

Kirishima couldn’t stop thinking about last night’s dream.

He found himself blushing every time he thought of the scene that had unfolded before him. It was a dream after all, so when his body had fallen unconscious, he could still see everything, but from a third-person point of view.

He saw the way Bakugou took care of him… the way he looked at him… how he was about to kiss him…

He squealed in his seat on the bus, bringing his hands to his face.

I like him so much, he’s so manly and handsome and brave and-

He’s not real.

Kirishima clenched his jaw. His lower lip trembled.

Joke’s on you for falling in love with a boy in your dreams.

He felt like crying. Every time he remembered Bakugou only existed in his dreams, he felt downright miserable.

Only in my dreams.

And yet he feels so real.

It was getting harder to tell fiction from reality, especially when he didn’t want to tell them apart.

Every detail, every action, every word that happened inside the dream… Eijirou thought Bakugou had control over them. His interactions with the blond felt so genuine… how could they not be real?

He wanted to go back there as soon as possible. Is 7PM too early to go to sleep?. His parents would probably suspect something was off, and he couldn’t exactly tell them what. He waited patiently, anxiously, until 10PM, faked a light headache to make sure no-one disturbed his sleep and went to bed.

This time, he opened his eyes inside a hotel room. He could describe it in one word: expensive.

The carpeted floor was gray and the walls, white, except for the once on his left, which was made of glass and gave a beautiful view of the city. There was a queen-sized bed with two bedside tables and a big wardrobe whose tall doors worked as body-sized mirrors.

“This is the room anyone would dream of,” Kirishima giggled at his own joke.

There were also two doors, one to go outside and another leading to the bathroom, he guessed. The latter was confirmed when the man of his dreams opened it.

Oh man, oh-man, he’s dressed up- Damn, he’s gorgeous...

Kirishima shamelessly checked Katsuki out.

Bakugou was wearing a rose-patterned gray waistcoat over a red shirt and a black necktie. Dark trousers and brown oxford shoes finished the look.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer.” The blond flashed him a smile.

“Believe me, I wish I could.” Had he actually said that OUT LOUD?.

Was that a faint blush on the ash-blond’s cheeks?

“You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Kirishima spared a glance at the mirror. Red necktie, black shirt, dark suit, black shoes. I should buy myself some nice clothes in real life too. “Are we visiting the Queen or something?”

“Apparently we’ve been invited to a banquet.” Katsuki grabbed two pamphlets which rested on one of the bedside tables, came near Eijirou and handed him one. It read, in beautifully styled golden letters: “OPENING GALA AT PALACE HOTEL - Bring your date to one of the most exclusive evenings in the whole world. We’ll be expecting you at 9P.M. at the hotel lobby.”

They know how to sell themselves, huh?

Wait.

"Your date"?

Were they going on an official date? Kirishima cursed (and thanked) his subconscious for playing with him this way. He tried to hide his red cheeks by looking away from the blond. He saw the hour on a wall clock. It was 8:45P.M.

“Oh, cool! It will begin soon, maybe we should get going.”

“Yeah. We should also ask for another room, ‘cause there is only one bed here.”

Kirishima felt a prick in his heart. Did Bakugou not want to share a bed with him? Wait, did he want to share a bed with Bakugou?! It didn't have to mean anything, per se. Many friends slept together platonically, right? 

Eijirou knew there was nothing platonic about his feelings for this boy, though.

He pressed his lips in a thin line. He was not going to lose this chance. No, because he decided at that moment that if he couldn’t meet Bakugou in the real world, he would make the most of their time together in his sleep.

I like him. I like him a lot.

“Is that really necessary?”

This is MY dream.

He caressed Bakugou’s fingers with his, linking them ever so lightly.

“I think... there’s enough room for the two of us.”

He heard the blond gulp. His hand shook at the touch, but he didn’t break contact. His ruby eyes went from the redhead’s own to his lips, up to his eyes and back down again. “Okay,” Bakugou said.

Eijirou's breathing was shallow. He felt anxious he would wake up any moment and he would be gone again. He felt sad the only time they could share together was this. He felt frustrated and desperate, and that gave him courage. He took Bakugou’s hand entirely into his own, palm against palm, fingers intertwined. Then, slowly, he brought their chests as close as possible, placing his hand on the back of the blond’s neck, pulling him in until their noses were touching.

If this is a dream, how is it the most real thing I have ever felt?

He broke eye contact for an instant to look at the time. 8:55.

“Maybe we should…” his voice was nothing more than a whisper, "skip dinner.”

Bakugou licked his lips. His tongue brushed Kirishima’s mouth in a feather-like touch. His eyes were half-lidded, predatory. He moved his hands to the redhead’s hips. “Fuckin' right.”

Katsuki woke up.

That had been…intense.

He sat up on his bed and then brought his hands to his face, groaning. What kind of dream was THAT?  His ears heated up recalling it.

He had kissed Kirishima, and Kirishima had kissed him back. It was only a dream, and yet he swore he could still feel the redhead's lips on his, the warmth of his body and the taste of his tongue. He remembered the thrill of Kirishima's sharp teeth biting his lower lip gently, the softness of his hands that held a tight grip on his, and the way those hands had moved down to-

He stopped that train of thought. Katsuki clutched the sheets on his bed in embarrassment, and he let out a scream into his pillow because he had liked it. He stood up and went into the shower, getting ready for class.

That day Bakugou was unusually moody. He felt drained, sad. He felt lonely.

Seriously, is this my horny brain’s way of telling me I should be less of an asshole and make friends?

But he didn’t want friends. He wanted Kirishima.

“Something wrong, kid? You look pretty down today.”

He was leaning his head on his right hand against the window inside his father’s car. “Tsk. It’s nothing.”

“Are you still looking for a partner for the festival?”

Katsuki scoffed loudly. “I told you, I’m not going. Stop fuckin' harassing me over it.”

“Okay, son, but I’m telling you, it’s your loss. There’ll be food stands and live music and pretty lights all over the place!”

He only grunted in response.

Bakugou was in a really bad mood. When they arrived home, he locked himself in his bedroom and laid on his bed. He felt tears coming up to his eyes. He hugged his pillow and shut his eyes tight.

Life fucking sucks.

He fell asleep.

He was at the riverside again, the place where they had first met months ago. An ominous foreboding overwhelmed him. His heart beat loudly. Somehow, he knew.

This would be the last time they would meet.

He saw a mop of red hair appear on top of the hill. Katsuki jumped into the water. He had to cross the river, he had to see him, he needed to be with him.

But the river was too deep. He swam, batting his arms and legs against the current, but it wasn’t working. It was swallowing him. Soon, he was enveloped in blue darkness. He couldn’t breathe. He was drowning. He kept sinking despite his efforts to reach the surface.

Kirishima…

He couldn’t die. If he did, he would wake up. He couldn’t die. He stretched his right arm as high as he could.

Eijirou-

And he grabbed it. Kirishima took his hand. He was also in the water.

No, no-no-nono, what are yOU DOING-

Eijirou kissed him.

Even then, his lips felt hot, fiery, passionate, demanding. Bakugou clasped his hands on either side of Eijirou’s head pouring his soul, his whole being, into this kiss. His tongue delved inside the redhead’s mouth. It felt like fire, like an electric shock, like a drug he was addicted to. Like a breath of fresh air. Wait. He was actually breathing again.

He slowly pulled away. Hands still on Kirishima’s face, he swore he could melt seeing his flushed cheeks, raised eyebrows and swollen lips.

“Seriously? A kiss underwater? That’s so cliché,” Katsuki teased him.

They laughed. Kirishima hugged Bakugou, arms snaking around his waist, and nuzzled his neck. The blond tangled his hands in red locks of hair.

“Listen, we don’t have much time-“

“I know. I’ve sensed it,” the redhead cut him.

Katsuki took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“I was lonely.”

“Me too. I don’t want you to leave.”

Kirishima tightened his grip. “I wish you were real.”

“Me too. I mean, that you were real.”

He started leaving kisses on the blond’s neck.

“I’m sick of this, this anxiety, this fear to wake up.”

“Me too, - kiss - you read my exact thoughts. - kiss - It’s not so strange considering you’re inside my head.”

Bakugou chuckled. He run one hand down Eijirou's back. “That would be the other way around, don’t you think?”

“You know, for a dream,” Kirishima replied, giggling, "you’ve always been awfully self-conscious.”

What?

“But I’m the one dreaming.”

Kirishima smirked. “That’s sweet, do you feel like you’re on a fluffy cloud?“

“No, I mean I’m asleep on my bed.”

The redhead raised his head, a puzzled look on his face. “This dream is getting weird.”

Katsuki clenched his jaw. “Stop talking about dreaming! It’s creeping me out!”

“But I’m aware we’re on a dream.”

“Yeah, and so am I, but I’ll be the one waking up!”

Eijirou smiled, incredulous. “How is that possible when you only exist in my dreams?”

“What the- STOP SAYING THAT! YOU ARE THE ONE IN MY HEAD!”

Seriously, what the hell.

“What… do you mean?” Kirishima grabbed the blond’s shoulders. “Are you real?”

“Of course I'm real! How would we be here if I wasn't?”

EIjirou froze. Could it be? “I’m real. I’m real too.”

Bakugou scoffed. “Yeah, you wish.”

“No, seriously, I mean it!” He grabbed Katsuki's hands. “I’m also sleeping right now!”

What?

No.

There’s no way.

He pushed the redhead away. “Stop, this isn’t funny.”

“I’m not kidding! And if you’re real too, then we can actually meet, flesh and bone!”

There is no fucking way-

He couldn’t breathe again. He was going to wake up.

It was impossible. Complete and utterly impossible. But what if…

He knew that if he allowed himself to hope, if he allowed himself to even think of that possibility, he would be hurting that much more.

But what if…

“Come to the festival.”

Kirishima’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“Two weeks from now, by the Sumida river, come to the festival.”

He was drowning. He was going to wake up.

“But… but how-how am I going to find you?!“ He panicked. “That’s in Tokyo, right? Do you even know how big Tokyo is-“

“I’ll find you.” There was no time. “Just come.”

Bakugou was drowning. The water surrounding them flowed again, frenetic, destructive. He couldn’t fight against it. He was being swapped away.

He woke up in a sea of sweat, gasping for breath.

Kirishima didn’t dream anything the following night. Or the next. Or the next.

He hated nighttime now. He didn’t want to sleep, because he wouldn’t be there, and that would make him doubt. He didn’t want to doubt. He was sure it had been real. It had to. He had been more real than any other person he had ever met.

He bought the bullet-train tickets for Tokyo the morning after their last meeting. He searched online and learned there actually was a summer festival held near the Sumida river in Tokyo in two weeks. It was a famous event, but he never knew the exact date it would be taking place. Katsuki had known, though. He’s real. He has to be.

Two weeks passed by painfully slow. For two weeks, he didn’t lose heart. He would find him. He would find Bakugou.

When the arrived at the Tokyo station, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Too many people. What…am I doing here. He clenched his fists. Eijirou felt the weight of anxiety settling in his gut, holding him down. It was... too much. The station was buzzing with people moving one way and the other, bumping into a lost Eijirou who had no idea what he should do now. He crouched down, head on his knees, biting his lower lip. Just how did I think this was a good idea?

He had come to the capital on a 3-hour-long trip all the way from Kyoto, following a young man he had seen only in dreams, without telling anyone where he was going and no backup plan. It was already 8 P.M., all the return tickets for that day were sold out and he had nowhere to sleep. He wasn't going to meet Katsuki. Not now, not ever.

He began sobbing.

“Are you lost, young man?” A police officer was kneeling beside him. He put a hand on his shaking shoulder. “Are you alone?”

“I…I…” Eijirou muttered.

“Do you want me to call someone? There’s a phone back at-“

“No, no, I’m fine, I came on my own.” Eijirou moved his hands from side to side. “Actually, I was invited to a festival, but I have no idea how to get there. It's by the Sumida river”

“Oh, you mean the Sumida River Fireworks Festival?” The young man exclaimed. “You’re one lucky lad, I was heading over there right now for patrol shift. I could take you if you want.”

Kirishima felt the gloom lifting off his shoulders and smiled. Talk about good luck.

It was a short ride to the riverside, but to Eijirou it felt like an eternity. After receiving a short but intense warning about the dangers of illegal activities such as drinking or drug-consumption on nights like these, the excited redhead bid the officer goodbye. He began walking, making his way through the busy stands, eyes searching everywhere for a familiar face.

After an hour or so, he felt exhausted and disheartened.

Come on, Katsuki, where are you?

Honestly, he didn’t know what he had expected.

Fucking ridiculous.

Katsuki threw a stone in the river, watching it bounce off once, twice, three times. He was at the Sumida River festival with his parents, although he had lost them a while ago. He was looking for someone, after all.

But seriously, what had he been hoping? For Kirishima to suddenly show up from behind a stand and walk up to him, just like that? His rational mind called him out for being a complete idiot. His heart, however…

He didn’t want to give up.

Please, please, please, be here. He resumed his search. It was his last chance. Soon the firework show would start and, as soon as it ended, they would be leaving. He walked along the river shore; it was quite dark so he strained his eyes to study the people around him. He reached a quite crowded balcony. Then he felt it. His heart pounding.

He’s here.

He pushed his way through the crowd.

I know he is.

He swirled around, lost in a sea of faces. People strolled around him, too slow and yet too fast. Then, an opening. Right in front of him, a passage through the crowd. And at the end of it, red.

Time seemed to stop around him. Katsuki approached the boy slowly, carefully, not wanting to make a sound in case he would disappear. He was leaning against a wood railing, head resting on his hand, facing the river. He held his breath.

Eijirou turned around.

Fireworks bloomed in the sky.

"I found you."

They had only met inside their dreams. But they were in love.