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Mornings were typically beautiful and calming.
To Kirishima, whenever he succeeds in waking up earlier than Bakugou does, (despite falling asleep late at night he sometimes pulls himself up awake, to his surprise, earlier, just to see Bakugou’s peaceful resting face next to him) he always manages to catch a glimpse of Bakugou’s sleeping face that looked so relaxed and peaceful whenever the sunny rays that bled through the blinds bathed his soft face.
Falling in love with someone is uneasy, especially when Kirishima is afraid that it is feasible that Bakugou won’t return any equal feelings even though it is doubtful he doesn’t because of the proximity they share every morning is marvelous.
No friends would ever share proximity like this, to the point in which they end up with their bodies sharing warmth, arms sneaking around one another’s waist, and heads gently bury into a neck or fluffy strands of hair which stick out in weird angles no one could of imagine or picture.
Kirishima’s eyes flutter open only to be greeted with blonde locks being bathed in the sunlight that flooded into the room through the open blinds, cheeks warm and tinted a beautifully shade of pink and long eyelashes Kirishima laid his gaze on seemed so marvelously gorgeous. It’s excruciating that Kirishima won’t be able to let Bakugou discover his feelings for him, however, he believes that one day he’ll let it out.
He could feel arms maneuver around his waist and hands gently pressing around his hips. He let out a soft sigh before he could feel his cheeks flush from Bakugou’s gentle touches. He smiles before he allowed himself to relax around Bakugou’s arms, gaze glued on Bakugou’s relaxed, sleeping face.
Kirishima presses his palms against Bakugou’s chest with trepidation, praying not to wake the boy up and make him feel exasperated and grumpy early in the morning, despite Kirishima’s abilities to tolerate his anger anytime and always digging for an opportunity to calm him down, and he manages to do that.
It’s rare that Bakugou gets pissed during mornings he wakes up with Kirishima next to him, or perhaps, in his arms, all cuddled up and lukewarm. Rethinking about it, it’s almost impossible that Bakugou is ever angry whenever he wakes up to the satisfying face of sleeping Kirishima right in front of him, bodies so close and soft deliberate touches against each other’s skins.
Kirishima could feel Bakugou’s breath fan over his forehead, leaving him unsurprised. It was clear that Bakugou was about to wake up at one point, since the way of how organized his sleep schedule is compared to Kirishima is satisfying to think about and share a hearty laugh. Kirishima would often find himself envious of Bakugou’s pure, natural skills, basically at anything he does and he strives to be like him. After all, Kirishima finds Bakugou a marvelous inspiration to him he’s going to keep for long years of life.
He could feel Bakugou’s body shift against his before his grip on Kirishima’s waist loosened. The redhead nervously shook his arms off before he rolls away to the side of the bed, a little far away from Bakugou, however, the blonde remains asleep on his side, arm lying lifelessly where it was wrapped around Kirishima. He watched Bakugou’s chest rise up and fall down peacefully with every breath he sucked in and let out. Kirishima felt collected watching, so he folded his arm under his temple and stretched out his legs before he eyes Bakugou’s features closely.
Kirishima found Bakugou unbelievably alluring being bathed in the morning sunlight, completely unbothered. His eyes averted to the blonde locks which seemed to glow in a golden way underneath the bleeding rays of the sunlight that emit through the open blinds. His cheeks were visibly pink, so was the tip of his nose which Kirishima presumed he was catching a threatening cold, ear tips flushed pink as he let out calm breaths during his sleep.
“You’re so pretty…” Kirishima mouthed, brows furrowing as he felt the stinging ache in his chest as his mind clouded with absolute pessimism about his dumb, unrequited feelings for Bakugou. He felt like a jerk falling for his best friend, when he’s so confident with Bakugou replying with a negative answer about his feelings.
And it sucked.
But Kirishima felt like his mind was freezing when he noticed Bakugou’s eyes flutter open slowly. He was presumably blinded from the sunlight that shone directly into his eyes, burning his sight before he uncomfortable brought up a hand to rub his eyes with a curled fist.
“Rise and shine, Blasty.”
Kirishima allowed himself to tease Bakugou moderately during the morning since he was anxious about pissing the blonde off. He was glad Bakugou shook it off with a tired smile before letting his temple rest against his pillow again as he made straightforward eye contact with the cherry haired boy. “Mornin’.”
The way his voice sounded was delicately tender. Kirishima wasn’t bewildered since he’s used to hearing Bakugou quiet during the mornings, a side that no one has access to except the redhead, which was astounding to him in every way — especially when the blonde is so closed about himself, and exposing that soft side of his to Kirishima which easily collected his trust is beautiful.
He smiled when he realized Bakugou never averted his gaze away from his. The eye contact they made was intense and unbreakable and it made Kirishima feel weirdly fuzzy inside. He could feel his cheeks sting once Bakugou finally blinked and looked elsewhere, awkwardly shifting his gazed, lately attempting to break the intense contact, but his attempt of being distracted by an object or something else, like the curtain dancing above them, only made it travel back directly into Kirishima’s red eyes, immensely drowning in them.
“How’d you sleep?” Kirishima finally asked after long moments of staring into each other’s souls, as if they were see through, as if they could read each other so simply, yet in a way it’s difficult.
“Slept okay. What about you?” Bakugou asked calmly.
Before letting Kirishima open his mouth to speak, and also reveal his little sharp teeth that Bakugou always adored and took a look at, he interrupts with an abrupt sentiment, “You were moving so fucking much last night, shitty-hair. Were you okay? You seemed a little hazy, I could feel every little fucking movement.”
Kirishima’s eyebrows rose before he let out a hearty laugh that Bakugou found amusing. Rather than feeling embarrassed, Kirishima found it surprisingly interesting that Bakugou pays attention to details even in his sleep, unless Bakugou doesn’t sleep in like Kirishima does — his body is filled with too much energy, so he had to shake it off somehow, by wiggling in his sleep, he was helpless.
“I was okay,” Kirishima’s laugh soon died before his lips curved into a lopsided smile. “just energetic, I guess. Even in my sleep, isn’t it weird, Bakugou?” He chortles.
“It’s normal, I fucking guess.” Bakugou responses quietly before he shifted into another comfortable position as he watches Kirishima’s lips stretch widely into a boxy grin that made Bakugou’s heart tingle in many ways.
They laid in bed for a couple of minutes before silence finally flooded the atmosphere, the white noise of the dancing wind that could be heard from outside is playing for the two, though, it remains perplexing for the two, since they hated it when silence strangled around their throats, as if both boys lost interest in holding up a conversation, despite the truth is — they’re both fucking shy.
“I’m cold.” Kirishima allowed himself to break the silence, watching Bakugou roll his shoulders into a shrug in a simple response to Kirishima.
“Are you not going to say anything about it? Or do anything?”
The words that slipped off Kirishima’s tongue sounded so selfish, despite presenting it off as a teasing joke full of sarcasm, but it presumably seems like Bakugou awfully took it in an earnest way by how his eyebrows drew together. He looked pissed, but Kirishima attempted shaking the feeling off his shoulders.
“Do you fuckin’ want me to?” Bakugou suddenly snaps before cooling his tone down, looking away restlessly.
He seemed embarrassed, Kirishima noticed by how pink his cheekbones turned, it was sharply visible to the eye, however, Kirishima didn’t complain. He found the blonde adorable presented this way, especially in this type of proximity no one could damn achieve.
“Yuh,” Kirishima replies, tone filled with excitement before he could feel himself being pulled forwards Bakugou’s body without a warning, leaving him taken aback but he indulges into him anyway. The warmth that slowly stroked Kirishima’s skin is so familiar, as if he memorized the feeling of being so close to Bakugou to the point their skin touch and share an excessive amount of warmth, but he never complained anyway, he specifically felt relished about it and enjoyed the satisfying pleasure of being held by his favorite person.
Soon, arms were snaking around Kirishima’s waist again, such a familiar feeling, as if he didn’t recall they didn’t snuggle for hours last night, and this morning. “Baku—“ Kirishima is quickly interrupted by a steadfast voice, shivering.
“Don’t fuckin’ say anything. Just fuckin’ relax or whatever.” Bakugou clicked his tongue before he could feel the pad of Kirishima’s palm pressing against his chest again.
“Why’d you wake up early?” Bakugou questioned before he found himself bury his nose in tangled, messy red locks. They were soft, bewilderingly soft, and Bakugou found a sense of comfort in them.
Soon, Kirishima shifted his body against Bakugou’s before he hesitantly looped his arms around Bakugou’s waist, mimicking his movements that were performed on Kirishima’s waist, though, Kirishima’s grip was more strong and tight, as if he’s gripping to Bakugou for his damn life. “Dunno,” Kirishima replies, throat dry. “I just wanted to, like, y’know,” Kirishima was lost in his words, as he was making an endeavor of finding an excuse to wanting to watch Bakugou sleep so peacefully in the morning. “Tidy up my sleeping schedule…?”
“Are you asking me that?” Bakugou questioned, fingers slowly lock up around Kirishima’s red locks.
“No!” He said, surprised “I’m— I am being serious, Bakugou!”
“Don’t say ridiculous shit like that,” Bakugou deadpands as he began playing with the strands of Kirishima’s crimson dyed hair. “It clearly sounds like you’re hesitant on your words. Are you lying?”
Kirishima could feel a lump build in his dry throat, swallowing thickly before he cleared it and let out a shallow breath that tanned over Bakugou’s collarbones. He could feel Bakugou’s bony fingers play around his hair locks, cheeks burning as a response.
“Maybe.” Kirishima says tauntingly, “Anyway, forget I woke up so early. Won’t happen again.”
“You’re lying,” Bakugou clicked his tongue mockingly, “again.”
“Eh, who cares? You’ll forget what I said anyway.”
“You don’t fucking know.”
“It’s not important though.”
And silence fell upon them. Bakugou couldn’t seem to think of anything to say as he was mildly distracted by gently petting Kirishima’s hair, and gently tangling it playfully. No word was heard from Kirishima either — he felt voiceless, but nevertheless, he felt relaxed against Bakugou’s gentle touch despite his typical aggressive behavior.
He finds it unpredictable that Bakugou would take in Kirishima for his soft, deliberate touches. After all, he’s always viewed by his intimidated classmates as an aggressive person who wills to show no mercy on any person. It reflects on Bakugou because of his rough childhood and abusive household.
Kirishima relaxed into Bakugou’s touch before he could feel stinging tears threaten to break through his eyes. He buried his head further into the crook of Bakugou’s neck before he felt like speaking. “Bakugou?”
Kirishima’s voice sounded so muffled against Bakugou’s chest but he was helpless. Bakugou could still read what he’s trying to say, and responds with a silent, “What?”
“Uhm,” Kirishima chokes out, voice hesitant as he exhaled sharply before finally letting the words roll out of his tongue. Something he has been meaning to ask Bakugou for so long after they’ve gotten close to one another, a question that might’ve sound tricky yet thrilling for Bakugou to answer. “What do you like about me?”
Bakugou abruptly felt challenged by the sudden question. It didn’t feel thrilling, though, it felt tricky to answer, since there are many things that Bakugou adores about Kirishima. Too many things and details that he’s unable to list because it’s too fucking long — he strives to keep his answer as short as possible and not disturb the redhead with blabbering because it seems too uncharacteristic of him because of the way he presents himself.
“I love everything about you.”
The answer was too straightforward but Bakugou was sure Kirishima could of handle in properly and in order, but it felt like the shorter boy begun trembling under Bakugou’s touch and grip, arms locking around his waist more tightly, and Bakugou almost felt breathless.
“The fuck?” Bakugou asks before he released his hands out of Kirishima’s messy hair, blinking rapidly before he could feel Kirishima nuzzles further into Bakugou’s collarbones, something hot and burning scattering over his skin, something like—
Tears.
“Kirishima? Are you fucking okay?” There was panic hinted in Bakugou’s voice but the latter only pressed against him tighter, grip stronger and sobs suddenly turn into silent chokes.
“Kirishima, say something,” Bakugou pleads, browns furrowing with extreme worry as he shakily tries to trace patterns against his back. “Eijirou,” Bakugou said, hoarse voice breaking with worry before he swallowed thickly, clearing his dry throat.
Soon, the soft sobs died down and hiccups begun to emit from the boy after his few minutes of sobbing. Nonetheless, Bakugou continued circling soft patterns onto Kirishima’s back as a way to soothe and calm him down.
Kirishima felt his heart pinch at the way Bakugou’s voice broke to saying his name. He let out a tired breath before he felt like the bottle of feelings he’s keeping sealed slowly break. The glass is slowly tearing up to the point he cannot keep any feelings hidden and the lament feeling of Bakugou soon to discover his feelings is leaving him dreary.
“Bakugou,” he said, voice shaky. “I love you.”
Bakugou remained silent. Kirishima felt empty after letting three words roll off his tongue in a sharp way that almost seemed too straightforward. The malicious feeling of not being able to look straight into Bakugou’s eyes, examine his stern expression, wait for the worse to come.
Kirishima could still feel Bakugou’s arms maneuver around him, sneaking so slowly against his waist in order to lock him around him like Kirishima did, and he exhaled sharply to the abrupt touches. “Eijirou,” Bakugou said firmly, locking the hug with intertwined fingers.
“I love you too.”
Kirishima never felt his heart leap like this at Bakugou’s simplified words.
“So fucking much.”
And then it hit him,
The feeling of being loved back.