Chapter Text
He smooths his black hair back from his forehead, then forward. Kirishima is a high school boy, awkwardly fretting over his appearance his mothers’ bedroom. This evening he’s going to a Pierce the Veil concert. He’s been looking forward to it for weeks and even has his outfit laid out. One of his mothers, Aiko, is folding laundry and watching her son repetitively brush his hair in a million different directions. “Kiri, put the brush down! You’re going to make yourself bald. And you have such pretty hair…” She reprimands, snatching the brush from his hands and smoothing it away from his forehead. He’s so nervous to have his face showing. His hair is like a dark curtain that hides his expression and face from the world. His sister says he should wear it in a ponytail so it’s not always hanging in his eyes. Aiko places her hands on her son’s shoulders, steadying him and causing Eijirou to stand up straight and meet her eyes in her armoire mirror. He has her eyes, a striking cherry red color. “Do you want me to do your hair? It’s supposed to be a fun night, and if you’re worried about how you look, I can help.” He groans, leaning back into her form.
“Fine, but no braids!” he warns, remembering the time his sister put his hair in a tight French braid which made his scalp ache for days.
When Aiko is done, she’s straightened it and applied a smoothing serum that makes his hair look as slick and lush as hers. He doesn’t look like himself. “That’s definitely not a braid…” he remarks, a little breathless at his appearance. His mom looks proud, hands on her hips and a smirk on her face. She likes when Eijirou lets her influence his choices a little. To be fair, he’s clueless when it comes to beauty and haircare. His other mom, Ren, is a hairstylist in their city and tries to tell him about hair treatments and masks and dyes but he thinks none of it would benefit him. Kirishima has spent most of his adolescence feeling unremarkable. Just a kid going through the motions, not quite an outcast but definitely not popular. He thinks dying his hair could bring on unwanted attention.
His mom goes back to folding laundry, leaving him to fiddle with her cosmetics on top of the dresser. Eijirou thinks about the band members he looks up to. They change their hair, get piercings, wear makeup, and dress in tight clothes. He thinks “What if I did that? Just for tonight?” and then turns to his mom and clears his throat. “Show me how to put on eyeliner. Please.” His voice shakes because he is stepping just outside of his comfort zone, even though his mom will be more than happy to do this for him. She pauses, a small grin lighting on her face. “Come on honey, let’s get dolled up.”
His little sister, Akako Kirishima, gallops into the parental bedroom as the front door opens, announcing the arrival of Ren and the younger of the Kirishima siblings. She lets out a tiny squeal as she watches her mother apply eyeliner onto her brother’s lash lines. “You’re wearing Mommy’s makeup! It’s gonna look so good!”. She’s genuinely excited about the prospect, which cheers Kirishima up. He’s feeling good about transforming into a different version of himself, at least for the night. The eyeliner pencil is very close to his eyeball, which is scary because he doesn’t want to be blind, especially tonight. When Aiko steps back, she waves her daughter to come over and assess. “What do you think kiddo? Your big brother ready yet?” she questions, definitely scheming. Akako leans in close, petting his newly straightened hair before standing back and saying. “Make the eyelashes big!” and gesturing with an exploding motion out from her own eyes. Aiko looks at her daughter puzzled for a moment before Eijirou interjects. “She means mascara.” And then he realizes he’s going to look quite different.
Kirishima Eijirou is checking himself out in the mirror one last time before his family drops him off at the venue. The mascara and eyeliner make his eyes look bigger, but there’s also another word he wants to use. Pretty? Maybe it’s pretty. He likes it. His hair is more manageable when it’s styled, so he thinks he might do this more often. Aiko mentions that he looks handsome with his hair done and he thinks maybe his mom is right. Akako is bouncing on the seat next to him, excited to go out to eat while Eijirou trashes about to the music of his early teen years. He has his iPod in his ears, which is playing “Yeah Boy and Doll Face” from Pierce the Veil while he holds his general admission ticket in his other hand. The music soars and rattles something in Kirishima’s heart. Even on his worst days, his favorite bands get him pumped up. “Honey, you keep your cell phone on you, zippered in you pocket! And don’t leave with anyone that isn’t us. You text me the minute the show ends. We’ll be here to get you.” Ren pats her son’s arm as they pull into the venue parking lot. A long line of people is winding around the building and he thinks that this might be a bit much for him. All these strangers who could judge him or push him around…but he feels the squeeze of his mom’s hand and knows he’s going to have a great time. “I’ll be safe. Thanks guys. Love you,” he offers, nodding to Aiko in the front passenger’s seat and poking Akako in the leg before he hops out of the car.
In the crisp spring air, with his tight black jeans, made up eyes, and new look, Eijirou feels really good. He’s kicking on all cylinders.
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Bakugou wasn’t a fan of crowds, but he’d put up with it for a concert, or even a sporting event, just so long as it was on his terms. Even as an eighth grader, he was defining his reality with stubbornness and ferocity. He’d come across the Pierce the Veil concert on one of his computer searches when he needed new music for his study sessions. While Pierce the Veil wasn’t exactly soothing; they fired him up. He liked the thumping drums, screaming guitars, and the singer’s sharp voice. So, when tickets became available, he worked with his Mom at the cosmetics company for weeks to afford the opportunity. So many makeup tests had led to him taking a liking to doing up his appearance a little. He liked how the red eyeliner made him look dangerous. It was an odd thing to want as a teen, but he liked when others kept their distance and watched from afar. This is exactly what he was getting as the line of concert goers filed into the venue. People made an effort to step away from him, even if it meant less space for them. Good, damn extras, he thought.
Eventually the crowd must cram in and he loses his foot of breathing room. A fellow fan bumps into his side, letting out a small yelp in return. Bakugou is about to brain the idiot when he stops.
This is the prettiest idiot he’s ever seen, even if Katsuki hasn’t seen that many. He’s probably the same age as Bakugou and has familiar red irises. They’re framed by sharp black liner and mascara, making his eyes cat-like in appearance. The guy’s black hair is so shiny and smooth that Bakugou wants to reach out and run his fingers through the ink strands. There’s a little scar over the boy’s right eyelid. How did he get it? The little internal voice in Bakugou’s head whispers. “My bad!” the stranger offers, throwing his hands up in a defeatist gesture. Katsuki huffs, shrugging and turning away a bit. “It’s fine, idiot, it’s a concert. People are gonna get shoved.” He’s trying so hard not to look back at that pretty boy’s face because Bakugou thinks that if he does, he’ll never look away again. “I guess you’re right!” The black-haired boy chirps in return, patting Bakugou’s shoulder. He doesn’t move away from the hand (because he can’t). “I’m Kirishima Eijirou, by the way,” the boy offers looking and Bakugou expectantly, eyes wide and glittering. “ ‘m Bakugou,” he grumbles back, figuring it isn’t so bad to be next to someone like this for his first concert by himself.
As the lights go down and the band starts to walk out on stage, Bakugou feels the crowd rush forward, so he barks out an insult at the girl pressed up against his back, but he feels a hand grab onto his. It’s that Kirishima guy, pulling him forward, almost like he doesn’t want to get separated.
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Kirishima dances and trashes with the rest of the crowd, letting himself get sweaty and loud and so out of his normal self that he thinks he’ll be completely transformed by the end of tonight. Maybe he should be this way everyday: loud, friendly, open, and honest. It’s better than some of the alternatives. Pierce the Veil is playing “Chemical Kids and Mechanical Brides”, telling the story of two very different people who decide to love anyway. It’s exhilarating, shooting for someone outside of your league and scoring despite the fear of rejection. Eijirou bounces to the beat, sneaking glances at Bakugou who is dancing just as furiously. That boy is something else. He starts out all snarls and glares but the music makes him something else. Not necessarily soft, but brilliant. Like a diamond in the sun, Eijirou muses, letting the swoon of the song wash over him. Bakugou is looking up at the band for a minute, and the light captures him perfectly. There’s sweat on his brow and collarbones, like little diamonds, and the red eyeliner along his lashes is bleeding just a little. He looks like an angel. An aggressive, headbanging angel. Kirishima is a gay fool, even as a teenager.
So, when Bakugou bumps into him on purpose and gets Kirishima to dance again, he obliges, bumping him back. Just for tonight, Eijirou can be himself. He can be real.
The band plays for almost two hours, guitars blazing and fans cheering. All the while, Eijirou makes a new friend just by dancing and headbanging next to him. He’s a bit sad that he has to go, but Bakugou moves toward the exit, reminding Kirishima that this night is over. The fantasy is coming to an end, and he has to return to the real world. Eijirou texts him moms that the show is letting out.
[9:48pm]: Show is over ok? Aiko
[9:50pm]: Okay honey. Be there in 10 minutes. Akako got sick at restaurant :(
Kirishima is happy he at least had a nice night. Just as he begins musing about his concert experience, he hears that same edgy voice from the concert. It’s Bakugou, leaning against the wall of the venue, typing furiously on a cell phone. Kirishima walks over a little too eagerly, wondering if he’ll get to ask the blond for his number. The blond is looking up now and Eijirou’s palms are sweaty and the magic of the concert hasn’t quite worn off yet, so everything feels neon and electric. They’ll either make fools of themselves or hit things off. There’s only a few minutes so Kirishima throws all caution out the window.
“Do you wanna h-hang out some time? Like this summer?” He stutters underneath the starlight on a Saturday night. Bakugou shoves his cell phone in the pocket of his baggy black jeans, sizing Eijirou up with those rust-red eyes. “Why the hell would I do that?” the boy counters, now that Kirishima is inches from his face. Bakugou is pushing off the wall and clamps his hands onto Eijirou’s shoulders. He’s gonna beat me up! Kirishima concludes before the other boy most certainly does not beat him up.
Bakugou kisses him. This strange, pretty boy is kissing him. A little too hard, which means that it’s probably his first kiss. Eijirou knows he’s standing there stiff and inexperienced, but he presses back with half the force, letting his eyelids drop closed. Bakugou tastes like spearmint gum and cherries and it stings Kirishima’s lips. They’re pushing against each other like the nervous middleschoolers they are, sloppy and unsure. Eijirou is stunned when Bakugou pulls back abruptly and says “Later, weirdo.” And runs off to a sleek black car at the curb. Kirishima waves after the boy, a little sad he didn’t get his number.
He hears the honk of his parents’ van before he can think longer on what just transpired.
“So honey, how was it? Have fun?” Ren asks, excited to hear of her son’s first solo concert experience. He barely hears her question, too engrossed in running his thumb over his bottom lip, which still faintly tastes of Bakugou’s breath. As his mother goes to speak again, Eijirou’s head snaps in her direction. In the backseat, Aiko is cradling Akako, who is whining from a sore stomach. “Yeah! It was awesome! Definitely want to go again.” He knows he’s being a bit loud, but considering all the excitement from tonight, he’s wagering that it’s a fair reaction. “Well you’ll have to save up, now won’t ya?” Aiko reminds her son, happy he had a night out free from his insecurities. “Your new look turn any heads?” Aiko asks, letting her wife focus on the drive home. Kirishima catches a glimpse of himself in the van’s side mirror. He does look good, his hair still smooth and glowing from his mom’s handiwork. His eyeliner is a little smudged, but it makes him look cool, maybe. Maybe that’s why that wild blond boy kissed him.
“Ah, there was one guy, but I didn’t get his number…” he mentions, and then his moms deliver twin “oohs!”. He doesn’t let them know he had his first kiss. He wants to keep that his little secret. Even if he never sees Bakugou again, which is a possibility, Kirishima will not forget his first kiss.