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Music and memory often tie us to memories; to places, emotions, times, and people. Kirishima has a million songs in his life that do that. Songs that remind him of his moms, of summer camps, of fights won and lost. Songs that stir and quell emotions, songs that motivate, some that leave him breathless. Then there’s a very special category of songs; they are relegated to a playlist Kirishima doesn’t touch because they remind him of Bakugou. One of his closest friends and the star of his heart. It’s not that they aren’t close anymore, that’s not the case at all. Bakugou is just physically distant, working on international hero work and often away from home. They text, occasionally bother each other on social media, and on the rarest of nights, share a phone call. It’s not unlike the times they hang out in their apartments, talking about anything and everything. The only difference is that when they hang out, at least on Eijirou’s end, he has to fight the temptation to listen to that playlist and send himself into the next dimension with longing and want.
When he hears the song, it isn’t late at night, or after a phone call with Bakugou, or during a time he’s particularly sad. It’s a warm spring afternoon, driving back from his agency, well fed by Fatgum during their lunch. Nothing leads itself towards the man needing to have a full-on flashback to the nights he spent staring at Bakugou, lovesick and starry-eyed. Kirishima does not stare at his friend like that anymore. Growing up meant his feelings changed. Now he would cut the glances short, or hope it came across as friendly admiration, lest he be acting less than adult. After all, he isn’t the same reckless, wild kid he was in high school. He’s learned to weigh options and reel it in when he’s overwhelmed or in danger of spilling over. Then the song comes on while he’s at a stop light and the sun is filtering through the cherry blossom trees and its’ warmth is landing on his left arm, exposed to the car window. The opening guitar riffs cut through his springtime contentment and pulls his heart right up into his throat.
“You sit there in your heartache, waiting on some beautiful boy to,
To save your from your old ways…”
What a cruel thing to do, Eijirou thinks, caught off guard by the sudden rush of tears in his eyes and the fresh air he’s gulping down. The light turns green and as much as he wants to collapse onto the wheel and drown himself in flashbacks, he can’t. So he drives and listens to this American rock song that drags him back to his high school years and the nights he hung out with Bakugou. It drags him back to those moments where Kirishima knew he was falling in love with that boy.
Getting into the apartment is a battle with Kirishima’s hands fumbling with his keys, the lyrics of that song knocking around his head. None of his neighbors are outside their apartments to see his struggle. When he finally gets inside, he walks off to his bedroom to allow himself this emotional drop. Words escape Kirishima and describing what he’s feeling doesn’t come to him in flowery language. It comes to him in memory. When he’s finally changed out of his hero’s costume and pulls on a beat-up Ground Zero tshirt and joggers, Eijirou lies in bed and lets the “Bakugou and Me” playlist go off. The song hits him all the same. The longing, nostalgia, want, missing…it makes the man’s body sag. His head swarms with the memories of being with Bakugou in their dorm rooms, on the roof, walking around the markets, studying, dreaming, talking. Kirishima wants to pinpoint one memory, so he can remember Bakugou through younger eyes.
They are sixteen and it’s late at night. Bakugou usually goes to bed at 8:30pm, but he hasn’t shoved Kiri out of his room and the redhead and thankful for the privileged to lie beside his friend and talk gently about their futures. It’s more like Kirishima is talking about his future and Bakugou is listening, humming when something particularly strikes his fancy. No one would ever know the boy could make a sound that soft. “When You Were Young” by The Killers is playing on low volume from Katsuki’s phone, Eijirou doesn’t know it yet, but that song is the precursor for him realizing his feelings for the blond. “I just want to do right, be a hero everyone can depend on, be the strongest. You know?”. Kirishima isn’t really asking for an answer. It’s just his way of feeling validated in his choices for the future. The song is somehow filling every corner of the room, despite the low volume.
Bakugou turns his head towards Eijirou, moonlight making red eyes purple and blond hair silver. Kirishima can’t look directly at the boy because it would be like seeing a star up close, it’d be far too much for his heart. “Ei, you’re already all those damn things. You’ll just keep getting better.” It’s so out of the ordinary that the redhead gapes, because the praise is usually so much more aggressive from Katsuki. He whispers a thank you and then decides that even if it shocks him, Kirishima has to look at this boy. Bakugou’s attractive, Eijirou’s known that for a while, but the crush was a new, fancy side effect to the curiosity already making a home in his brain and heart. For all of Bakugou’s faults; all the screaming, insults, abrupt nature, and lack of social niceties, there is the part of him that lies just under all that, pristine and smooth as an untouched beach. It comes right now in the slack of the blonde’s face, the way his brows aren’t at forty-five degree angles trying to convey, and how he’s so open. He’s looking at Kirishima with all this faith and god, if that isn’t just the cherry on top of the sundae.
“Don’t have to say thank you. Just believe it.” Katsuki doesn’t look away. The moonlight seems to glow brighter now, probably just because it knows that the redhead in deep. “I do.” He does. He doesn’t always believe everything everyone says about him, damn his self-esteem, but he believes Bakugou right now. The song ends, and by then, Kirishima knows he’s in love with his best friend.
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Bakugou keeps checking the departures screen, wondering if his plane can leave any earlier if he just wishes, or grimaces hard enough. It’s been a long eight months in Germany, learning a language with vexing grammar, a new culture, and working with heroes with intense work ethics. Their schedules almost rival his own. For a few months, he had Uravity and Chargebolt (in succession), so it wasn’t unbearable. Being in new, beautiful places, doing work he loves is a delight, but he misses home. Misses Jirou, who has been harping on him about joining her for jam sessions. Misses Sunday coffee with his dad. Wants to sleep in his own bed and eat hot curry and see the mountains of his home. He’s even starting to miss the limited visits he has with his mom, who is less shrill as time goes on.
He squints again. His flight is still leaving at 8:00pm. Bakugou pulls out his phone. He misses Eijirou the most. Originally, he’d planned on going straight home to his apartment after his 10 hour flight. Just crash into his bed and catch up on his Kitchen Nightmares and reacclimate to his home life. Just one problem; Kirishima was asking him every day when he’d be home and then begging to pick Katsuki up from the airport. How could the guy say no? Seeing that smile and messy red hair on their weekly Facetime was enough of a reason to say yes. Even after several years of working on his poor attitude and inability to work well with others, Bakugou still hadn’t made it over one of the last few hurdles in his life: discussing the depth of his feelings for his dear friend. Often, he vacillated between “Just do it” and “Don’t ruin it.” The man had decided on “Don’t ruin the friendship” for quite a few years. Then he’d hear their song.
Maybe it wasn’t their song, but it was the song Bakugou associated with every single time Bakugou knew he was falling in a little deeper for Eijirou. The blond makes his way for his gate, popping his earbuds in to tune into the playlist Kirishima had made for them in high school. Some music was too personal, so Bakugou barely listened to the song. It always hit something petal soft and fragile in him, going beyond sadness, longing, and nostalgia. It made him feel like he lost something.
“You sit there in your heartache, waiting on some beautiful boy
To save you from your old ways…”
The mid 2000s rock of The Killers was soaring through his mind and Bakugou lowers himself into one of the less than ideal plastic seats of the airport gate. He just wants to be alone with his thoughts. The thoughts he has about the last time he hung out with Eijirou before leaving for Germany and how their song played from the living room stereo and they fell asleep on the couch talking about the present.
It's night time and both men know they need to rest before their drive to the airport tomorrow, but Bakugou doesn’t want to miss this valuable time with his friend. The redhead keeps one floor lamp on, so the room has a gentle orange glow all over. The takeout boxes have been empty for at least an hour, but no one is moving to throw them out. “You really like traveling all over? Don’t you get tired?” Kirishima asks, pushing back into the beanbag he’s shoved into the corner of the loveseat. Bakugou loves when Eijirou looks all loose and relaxed. Bakugou wants to pull him in, be the person Eijirou can melt into. He doesn’t do it. He doesn’t touch his friend like that for the same reason he doesn’t scream “I love you!” at the man when he completes an exceptional fight in all his Unbreakable glory. It would be too much all at one, and Bakugou still isn’t sure how to tone it down and make it acceptable.
“It’s all to be a better hero. Chances like these mean I get my name out there, get to work harder. The more recognition, the higher I climb. But fuck, I hate going alone every time. Be nice if I had a fuckin’ good partner.” Katsuki means it as a nudge for Eijirou. More than anything, he’s wanted Red Riot to join him at his agency. The initial move to get his own hero agency off the ground had been a test of Bakugou’s faith in himself, but then the work started pouring in. Ground Zero was the name on everyone’s lips. He’d had to tone down the “Don’t give a damn about you,” demeanor, but fans and the public were enamored by his brash attitude and flashy fighting style. He still felt like he could be better with the right partner. Someone to help level him out, to challenge him, to rise to the top with him. Eijirou is blushing, faintly, from his end of the tiny loveseat, and it’s clear he understands what the other man meant.
“It would be nice. We make a great team and then I’d get to travel with you. No more of this airport bullshit.” Kirishima is right. Every single time Bakugou goes to the airport, the redhead groans and moans in the car like it’s time for a root canal. They’re not even in a relationship, but Bakugou feels the same upset at the idea of being away from the man. It would likely be far worse if they were dating. Eijirou follows up with, “Let me think about it. Alright?”. Bakugou just nods and sinks into the couch a bit more, eyes starting to close. “ ‘s alright.” Their song ends, but it stays with Bakugou the rest of the night, even when Kirishima scoops him up and tucks him into bed.
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The air current rushes under the wing of the plane and it’s all Katsuki can watch until sleep finally overtakes him in the first class section of the plane. He’s listened to that song repeatedly and it’s only dug up more feelings about his connection with Kirishima. So much had changed since high school. Kirishima had never been a pushover, but he definitely had given Bakugou’s more aggressive and harsh tendencies more leeway back then. The change in his friend’s patience and tolerance had conversely prompted the blond to look at his attitude and change for the better. He didn’t want his whole life, every dream he had to be crushed to death by his violence and pride. Eijirou held his own against Katsuki. The man was never there to be swooning and fainting like some damsel. Instead, Kirishima cheered on Bakugou and fostered his growth.
Katsuki reclines his seat and the night sky outside is his only view out of his window. His thoughts are the only thing he has between him and sleep. Almost immediately, he wonders what he’d tell his younger self. That song really has him thinking. Would Bakugou tell his teenage self that life isn’t all about drowning yourself in work and protecting your strength and pride? Would he shake the kid and beg him to tell that red-haired boy how he really feels before the years passed? Probably. Katsuki would want to tell 16 year-old Bakugou Katsuki all those things. Maybe then he could have grown up a little faster. Not be sitting with his deep set romantic feelings for his best friend in this airplane seat, knowing he’s going to see Eijirou in several hours and wants to tell the guy everything. Every sentimental, tender thing. The hostess makes another trip with the drink cart and offers Bakugou a second blanket before he passes out. One lyric reverberates in his head as his mind swims with sleep.
I know we can make it if we take it slow.
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The Narita International Airport is bustling and Eijirou keeps getting agitated when a stoller or oversized rolling luggage gets in the way of him making it to baggage claim. He tried to sleep last night, but the idea of seeing Bakugou after eight months was just too exciting. Baggage claim was just as packed, people crowding around the carousels and most of the walkways taken up by families corralling their children. Eijirou had to stop a few times to take photos with people who immediately recognized him as the hero Red Riot. Normally he’d be over the moon at a chance to make the fans happy, but he really just wanted to see the smile of one person. Each step brought him closer to the place he needed to be, both metaphorically and literally. Flight #7253 had just unloaded and a new rush of passengers were descending into the baggage area. Kirishima couldn’t stop himself from rising up on his toes for search for a familiar head of blond hair.
It's a surprise when Bakugou sights Kirishima from across the way, up on the escalator, and nearly sprints to get to him. That almost never happens. Even though Bakugou is definitely jet-lagged, which meant that he was going to get cranky from lack of sleep (and quick), he looked and felt good. Eijirou could have stood in that airport all day and held onto him. There was his normal smell of nitroglycerin, mixed with the sandalwood cologne he’d taken to as an adult. Katsuki was wearing the military jacket that Kirishima had gifted to him last Christmas. The man spoke in a low, gentle voice, only meant for the things he only wanted Eijirou to hear. “Missed you so bad. Get me home, Ei.” Kirishima almost melted there at baggage carousel 25. He wanted to hear Katsuki say that all the time.
Bakugou is definitely loopy in the car ride and keeps squeezing Kirishima’s arm, which makes him blush uncontrollably. “And goddamn Chargebolt screwed up all the orders because he didn’t know German. What a hack.” Katsuki is cracking up, losing his mind over Kaminari’s lack of preparation for thriving in another country. It warms Eijirou’s heart to know his friend had so much fun overseas, even if he is being a little critical of Denki. “Not all of us are as cool as you, Katsu.” Kirishima remarks, making the last turn towards his apartment. Bakugou’s smile is lazy and gorgeous, and as he slouches in the early morning light, it’s almost like a trap for Kirishima to stop the car and kiss this man. He doesn’t because 1) It would be intrusive, and 2) Bakugou is very tired and grabby and Kirishima doesn’t know how to read into that.
“Oh, we’re home.” Katsuki yawns, already rifling in the backseat for his bags when Eijirou parks. The way he says that hits the other man hard. It’s home for Kirishima, yes, but Bakugou lives in his own apartment. In a fantasy that the redhead has never spoken aloud, Bakugou lives with him, and it’s the happiest Eijirou has ever been in a one bedroom apartment. At least he can have the temporary joy of sharing his space with the man he loves. Not that Bakugou knows he loves him. He’s frozen in place, heart starting to speed up as he wonders what it would be like to confess all of his locked-up adoration for Katsuki. He jumps when said man starts knocking on the car window. “Hey Shitty Hair. You kind of need to unlock the door, unless you want to sleep in the car. I don’t want to, but you can.” Bakugou is heading towards cranky, his body craving rest. Kirishima cracks a smile at his friend, leaving his panic in the car for later introspection.
The grabby behavior doesn’t stop when they get inside Kirishima’s apartment. Bakugou tucks his bags on the loveseat and immediately starts shedding shoes and pants. The blond doesn’t seem to note how uncomfortable Kirishima looks with him standing there in his brief and sweater, dragging him to the bedroom. Eijirou does not understand what’s happening. “I need sweatpants. And sleep. Mostly sleep.” Katsuki grumbles, rifling through the resident’s drawers. As he pulls on a pair of bright red joggers, Kirishima silently thanks any god for pants, because seeing those thighs for another minute was going to send him into cardiac arrest. But then Bakugou does something else rare and surprising; he climbs into Eijirou’s unmade bed and burrows himself deep in the blankets. “Why aren’t ya comin’ to bed?” comes his question from under the comforter. The redhead wants to fall through the floor. They haven’t shared a bed since high school. The proximity might kill Kirishima, or at least paralyze him. All the same, he is exhausted and Katsuki’s bright red eyes are boring into him from his own bed.
He just goes. He could say no and crash on his couch, but this is Katsuki, and he’s asking Kirishima to stay with him, and it’s been eight months. Kirishima doesn’t bother changing clothes, because he’s been in sweatpants and a jumper since this morning. The bed is even warmer with Bakugou’s added body heat. Eijirou makes a space for himself about a foot away, so it doesn’t seem like he’s infringing on his friend’s space. He just starts to close his eyes and drift off when there’s a presence. Katsuki is mostly asleep, but he’s rolled into Kirishima, his face tucking into the crook of the redhead’s neck. He’s got five o’lock shadow from traveling and all of the sensation sends a ripple down Eijirou’s spine. He feels Bakugou’s right hand tug at his sweater and Kirishima decides to take the leap, even though he’s feeling quite sweaty and nervous. He turns to drape an arm over his friend and take one last look before sleep comes. In the muted light of morning, Bakugou’s blond hair is lit from behind and he’s snoring so gently, it’s like a purr. Kirishima is putting this on the list of “Best Mornings Ever.” The most beautiful boy is in his bed, grabbing for him, almost like he wants him.
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They sleep for most of the day, or at least Bakugou does. Kirishima gets up around 9pm, scrounging up a protein shake and then looking for the best late-night curry take out, just in case his friend rises from the pseudo-dead. He’s sitting on his couch, watching a re-run of Kitchen Nightmares, when there’s rustling from the hallway. Bakugou drag himself out into the living room, hair mussed up and sweatshirt sleeves hanging over his hands. “I’m back. Why did you get up?” he grumbles, moseying over to the couch. Kirishima didn’t think he’d care if he got up a little earlier. “I wasn’t tired anymore. Plus I didn’t want to wake you. You hungry?” Eijirou gestures to the takeout menu. The blond reaches for it and throws it down a second later, asking “The spicy veggie curry. And shrimp. Please.” He curls up on the couch, feet pressing into Eijirou’s thigh. The entire time Kirishima is on the phone with the takeout place, Bakugou’s feet are inching into his lap. What is with all the physical contact today?
Hanging up the phone, he turns to Bakugou, who has focused his attention on Gordon Ramsey’s ravings about who knows what on the television. He looks so happy to be back. “So, are you feeling okay?” Kirishima asks, shooting Bakugou a look of concern as he scoots down further into the couch, his legs now fully draped over the other’s lap. “Yeah, ‘m fine. Why?”. He says it like his behavior isn’t bizarre at all! Eijirou gestures to his legs and states: “You’re very touchy today. It’s just not standard Blasty protocol.” They crack up at the remark. It sounds ridiculous and they both know it. Eventually, as Katsuki wipes tears from his eyes, he replies, “I can stop, if it bothers you. I just feel comfortable,” and even more quietly, “I missed you.” Eijirou catches it, lifting the man’s legs and reaching his arms out. “I missed you too. Come here.” The blond clambers into the man’s lap, which is a little more cumbersome now that they’re not 16 and several inches shorter. Eventually they’re laying on the couch like two housecats, every once in a while shifting to get a bit more comfortable. No matter how Kirishima looks at it, they do not look like just friends right now. When Bakugou presses down on him, it’s like real torture. This man is pushing down on almost every part of Kirishima and it’s doing things to the man, so he has to shift as to not give himself away.
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The later the night gets, the more familiar the scene feels. The takeout boxes do make it to the fridge this time, courtesy of Bakugou complaining that if they leave the food out, it’s going to attract ants. He’s not wrong. Eventually the television goes on silent and Kirishima puts on the old playlist. Bakugou notices immediately when Fall Out Boy croons from the stereo system, only to be turned down moments later so that Eijirou’s neighbors don’t complain about a noise disturbance. They drag blankets and pillows and beanbags to the floor and Bakugou settles himself so that he can look out at the night sky. Something is churning in his stomach. Something that feels a lot like anticipation. “You’re really setting the world on fire, Bakugou. All Uraraka had to say about Germany is how good you were with the foreign heroes. A lil’ snappy, but really good. I’m proud of you.” Kirishima’s so open and vulnerable under the silver starlight coming in through the living room window. Bakugou wants to bottle the moment so he can remember it forever. His hair is loose and falling around his head in a burgundy curtain. Katsuki just listens and watches, because his whole body feels like it drops to through the floor when the song comes on. Kirishima’s eyes flicker with something like surprise. “Oh man, this song. Takes me back, you know.” The man clearly has a point, because Bakugou feels the same way about the song. Takes him back to when he was young (not to be cliché).
“Yeah? Do you miss it? Being younger?” Bakugou presses, feeling out Kirishima’s mood. His friend turns, eyes catching the light and showing bright like fire now. “I’m not old, but we kind of had the whole world open to us back then. And there’s stuff I didn’t do that feels out of my hands now.” Bakugou listens to Kirishima’s voice start to turn down. He’s clearly upset about something but hiding it behind a wistful sigh. His shoulders sag a little, or as much as they can while they’re lying down on beanbags on the floor. Bakugou’s heartbeat is going up as the other man inches closer; he could reach out and brush the hair out of Eijirou’s face so easy. Narrowing his eyes, Katsuki decides to follow this line of questioning. “Like what? What has you down?”. The room feels too small now. Bakugou wishes he’d prepared for the moment when he’d revisit his feelings about Kirishima more directly, but gauging the situation is impossible until you’re in it. “I…I fell in love with a friend. Never told them. Wish I did.” Kirishima is biting his bottom lip. Bakugou breathes in sharply and his heart gallops. At this race, it’s going to win a marathon. “And why didn’t you? They’d be really fuckin’ lucky to have you.” Katsuki means it. Anyone held in the affections of one Kirishima Eijirou would be sitting pretty in life. The guy was good, so good. No other adjective described him better.
“He got busy, and I could never figure him out. I know it sounds pathetic, but I’m still in love. I tried moving on. You know, I dated, but I always play the ‘what if’ card on myself. Then he looks at me sometimes with these eyes and I feel like I’m in high school again and we’re in my dorm…” Eijirou catches himself. Bakugou sees embarrassment and shame flood across his friend’s face. The guy looks mortified. Bakugou has to fix this.
“Hey, look at me,” he demands, and doesn’t continue until Eijirou meets his gaze, although warily. “You’re not pathetic. You do have to take a chance though. You’re Red Riot! You’re brave as hell. This guy, whoever he is, should know. Do this, for yourself.” Katsuki doesn’t know if it’s him. It could be anyone. Anyone that Kirishima was close with in high school which was…a lot of people. The thought makes Bakugou reel himself back in before making an assumption.
There’s a change in Kirishima’s expression. He sits up and his eyes sharpen into that look he gets right before going up against a particularly tough villain. He’s determined. “Then I’m going to do it. Bakugou, listen.” He does. God, he’s hanging off every word this man says while guitars scream from the stereo. He joins Kirishima in sitting up, suddenly terrified of what’s coming. Bakugou knows that he could be rejected right now. Or he could be made the happiest man in the world. It’s all just drawing straws. “You’re really smart Bakugou, but you’re also kind of dense. It’s you. I’m in love with you. I should have said it when we were 16. I didn’t. I was being young and dumb. You don’t have to like me back. I can handle myself.” It’s so straightforward that it feels like a metaphorical bowling ball, coming to knock Bakugou over. He’s slack jawed, heart pounding somewhere in his throat, and his fingers are shaking. His body betrays him when he lunges forward and kisses Eijirou, hard and a little clumsy. His hands are sweating, and his teeth clack a bit against the other man’s, but he tries again and this time it’s great. It’s ten years of lying to himself coming to an end. It’s jumping into a pond that looked gator infested to find out that the water was perfectly fine. It’s Kirishima’s hands holding his face steady and his lips smiling. It’s like coming home. Bakugou pulls back and says, “I’ll admit I did this shit wrong. Should’ve told you ages ago that I want you, like this. Want to tell everyone you’re mine. I’m a dumbass for not doin’ it when we were younger.” All of this floods out of Katsuki and the song ends, and there’s some new pop punk anthem coming along now, but that song, the one the kissed to, is their song. He is just waiting for Eijirou’s answer.
“I want to do it. I want to travel and see the world and save people all over. And get the German words wrong and mess up the room service order. I wanna do it all with you.” Kirishima has gotten so assertive and strong with his words over the years that Bakugou finds himself a bit breathless by the show of certainty and confidence.
The two of them do a lot of talking, and rolling about on the apartment floor, and eventually in bed. They discuss the future, their careers, who’ll move into who’s apartment, and where they’ll go on their first date. Ten years of pining coming to fruition, and all it took was listening to a song.