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Katsuki is glancing over one of Kirishima's math worksheets, glad to note that his hard work isn't going to waste, when he feels the other boy's gaze on him. It's not an unfamiliar sensation, so he ignores it, circling the one incorrect problem in the set and sliding the page back across the short table that Kirishima unfolds every time they study in his room in the second year dorms.
"Here, knucklehead," he says. "You've pretty much got it down, but look at number twelve - you fucked up your negatives again. Quit rushing yourself so much, it's tripping you up. We've got enough time before the end of term exams, stop freaking out." He glances down at his own half-written essay, and considers that his words maybe weren't inflammatory enough.
"I like you, Bakugou." Katsuki's head whips up at that, but Kirishima just stares earnestly back, red eyes wide. How can he just say shit like that? This emotional bastard - is he not embarrassed? He is, Katsuki realises, watching Kirishima grow nervous under his silent gaze (what is he supposed to say? Should he say anything?), fiddling with his hands where they sit on top of the table and shifting in his seat. Katsuki stops gawking, opting to stare down Kirishima's clock as it tick tick ticks instead.
"I, uh. I just thought you should know. How I feel. If it wasn't, um. Obvious? You don't have to answer me now! Or ever, I guess. Um… sorry, if this is annoying for you.”
Katsuki's mouth is dry. His hands are not. Is this some kind of fucking trick? Soysauce and Drooly ready to pounce through Kirishima's door the second he admits weakness? But he can't ask if that's the case - admitting to being embarrassed is the only thing more mortifying than facing the ignominy itself. Damn it, do something!
"Isn't it obvious that I-" The words croak out of Katsuki's throat, unbidden, and he snaps his jaw shut with an audible click. He briefly considers bailing on this entire conversation, but he couldn’t, not when Kirishima is staring at him like that, mouth hanging open as he clings to his every word; something that Katsuki would make fun of him for, if he wasn’t otherwise occupied.
Fuck. Well, Kirishima said it first, right? And he’s no liar, so there can’t be any harm in just reciprocating, right?
But he can't just say it outright! Not while there's still even a chance that he's being fucked with. He frowns, letting out a rattling, frustrated sigh. "Why would I even be here if I didn't..." he settles on, because it's true; who else would he ever tutor? Who else does he speak to, properly, and really hang out with?
"Oh," Kirishima breathes, expression raw and open - toeing the line between reassuringly honest and uncomfortably reassuring that Katsuki treads in every moment spent with him. "So if I like you, and you like me…" Kirishima hazards, blushing furiously, "does that make us..?"
"Yeah, okay?" Katsuki snaps, unable to look him in the face as he says it. "Don't make a big deal out of it."
Fucking obviously they're friends. But Katsuki would rather be caught dead than admit that out loud, like any sensible person.
Kirishima cheers and fist-pumps, putting all his pointy teeth on show. Katsuki bites his lip to stave off an answering grin and busies himself with his essay.
"Don't you still have to finish your outline?" He points out when Kirishima's eyes don't leave him, and the other boy just laughs, rubs his neck, and pulls out his brainstorm. Just like a regular study session.
Except Katsuki doesn't stop sweating and when he leaves a few hours later, Kirishima walks him to the door, all of two feet away. It's strange but easy to dismiss, until Kirishima stops him with a hand on his arm as he turns away – unheard of, even for Kirishima. He takes a moment to be grateful that Kirishima hadn't grabbed his hand, which is admittedly very slippery (he'd had a lot of trouble holding onto and also not exploding his pencil).
He raises an eyebrow; he can't trust his voice when Kirishima’s eyes are locked on him, all soft like that. "Now that we're officially… you know… is it alright if I call you Katsuki?" There's a hopeful note to the question. Katsuki stiffens, about to combust. He can't remember the last time someone other than his parents called him by his given name - middle school? Elementary? Deku doesn't count.
He decides he doesn’t hate the sound of it. "It's- fine." His brain feels broken.
"Are you sure-"
"Yes!" Katsuki snaps. "If I meant no, I'd say no, idiot!"
Kirishima beams. "Cool! You call me Eijirou too, okay Katsuki?" He blanks at the sound of his name said so casually like that. He’s gonna need some time to adjust.
"Okay." Kiri- Eijirou is looking at him expectantly. "…Eijirou."
Eijirou shivers. "Whoa, dude, I just got chills! Look!" He holds up a muscular arm.
"No," Katsuki says, and goes to bed.
Things change after the sweatiest study session of Katsuki's life. Since declaring themselves friends ("officially", Kirishima had said, which Katsuki needs to stop replaying in his mind like it means something, because it definitely doesn't), Katsuki can't go a day without Ki- Eijirou showing up at his desk after last period finishes, insisting that they hang out, or study, or watch a movie, or spar.
And forget sitting alone during lunch - being friends with Eijirou apparently means being dragged to a random table in the cafeteria with the rest of his annoying friends and pretending not to notice as he slides closer over the course of the meal until their thighs and shoulders are sandwiched together. He doesn't mind, he guesses. It's warm. (Never mind that they're well into summer, with break only weeks away.)
Being friends with Eijirou also, apparently, entails letting him steal morsels from Katsuki's homemade lunch, or even just straight up giving him food, because the idiot can’t handle too much spice and like hell Katsuki is letting the best bits of his meal go to someone who won’t appreciate them.
"Whoooa, Katsuki, you made this? In our dorm kitchen? That's so cool!" The compliments are nice too, he supposes.
Katsuki is about to tell him yeah, obviously, he’s the coolest, when he notices Sparky leaning in across the table towards them. "Oh, so it's 'Katsuki' now?" He says, like he’s caught them – at what, Katsuki has no idea.
"Not to you!" His name just feels weird coming from Kaminari like that. He could get used to it, maybe, but he doesn't want to. He carefully doesn't think about what that means for him and Kirishima.
Drooly just laughs, hands up in surrender. None of these dickbags are properly intimidated anymore.
"Okay, okay. How about 'Kacchan', then?"
Katsuki explodes his own lunch. And Eijirou's chopsticks. And the table.
One day Katsuki pulls Eijirou aside to eat on the roof – his company has grown on him. Eijirou’s other friends have not.
They settle in a shaded area closer to the middle of the building, but the heat still clings to the air around them even without the aid of the sun beating down. It's a far cry from the air conditioned cafeteria; cicadas can be heard singing, and a slight haze hangs over the city in the distance. A bead of sweat rolls down Katsuki's back, so he lays down on the cool concrete. He loves summer.
"Ahh, it's so hot!" Eijirou loosens his tie, fanning himself with his hands. "I already feel like I'm sweating! Does that not bother you, Katsuki?"
Aiming a hand at the sky, Katsuki lets loose a few effortless crackle-pop explosions. "I'm always sweating," he points out, followed by a yawn wrenching itself from his jaw.
Eijirou laughs, hauling him up into a sitting position by his extended elbow. "Don't fall asleep on me, man! I'd get bored." Katsuki's eye catches on the scar on the corner of his eyelid, normally indistinguishable from his eyelashes. He wants an even better look.
"Then get bored, Eijirou," Katsuki grumps as he closes the gap between them and raises a hand, pulling the skin by his eye taut with his thumb. "How'd you get this scar anyway?"
Eijirou stares back at Katsuki breathlessly, his thin eyebrows raised - does he pluck them? Maybe Pinky does it for him - and sharp teeth barely visible through soft lips. Katsuki wonders how they'd feel-- he reels back like he's been burned, halfway through the thought.
Something hangs in the air, but it's not the heat; if words exist to describe it, Katsuki is unfamiliar with them. But it's a tangible sort of tension... like the very atmosphere is pulsing, or buzzing, maybe. Maybe it's just the cicadas. Maybe it's just his heart.
"Ah, when I first got my quirk- I must've been like three or four..." Whatever it is, it snaps like a rubber band when Eijirou opens his mouth.
Katsuki stares down at their hands, palms flat against the concrete, fingers mere centimetres from interlacing, and sweats.
“D’you need any help, Katsu?”
“With cooking? Not from you, I don’t,” Katsuki scoffs, and then freezes when Eijirou’s words catch up to him. ‘Katsu’? Are they doing that now? He forces himself to relax. Nicknames are normal. They’re friends. Katsuki can’t get himself all freaked out every time Eijirou does something friendly, he’d die of a fucking heart attack at seventeen.
Eijirou's eyes don't leave him the whole time he's pottering around the kitchen, but there's no scrutiny in his expression, so what is he angling for? If he wanted to learn to cook, he would ask Katsuki to teach him, but just watching him like this... It's weird. He's not used to people watching him cook. Unlike most things, Katsuki doesn't do this to impress. And yet, here Eijirou is, looking at least a little impressed. Interested, definitely. It lights something in his chest; a different kind of pride to when he kicks ass during training, a different kind of flattery to when people compliment his quirk.
All that, and Eijirou hasn't even said anything, really. Just watched.
It feels like there's something just out of reach, but on the tip of his tongue all the same. Whatever - he needs to stop being so distracted. He tells Eijirou to go pick out a movie to watch while they eat; he doesn't care which. Eijirou grins brightly as he leaves the kitchen - he's been in a really good mood lately, Katsuki can't help but notice. It's been nice.
Mere minutes later, Eijirou reclaims his seat in a barstool opposite the counter. "Kaminari and Sero are about to pack up their games, so we’ve got dibs on the common room TV." Oh. Katsuki had assumed they'd use Eijirou's laptop or something.
"Will they still… be there?" He hedges, not sure how to approach the fact that he’s not in the mood to talk to or hang out with anyone but oh yeah you're fine and I have no idea why that is. Thankfully, he doesn't have to.
"Nah, I thought it'd be cool if it were just us, you know? At least for a while. I asked them to steer clear for a bit." Fuck, he's just so casual about it!
Katsuki grunts, but doesn’t otherwise respond, because he’s too busy realizing that the thought of dinner and a movie with Eijirou makes him feel a particular way.
A particularly non-platonic way. Shit. Fuck.
He’s only just adapted to Eijirou’s “official” friendship! There’s no way their relationship is ready for that kind of transition; Eijirou would definitely feel blindsided. So Katsuki has no choice; he’s gonna have to bury these feelings deep. Put them away, and it’s like they don’t exist, right?
Katsuki hates keeping secrets, so he throws himself into avoiding Eijirou instead – not forever, he’s decided, just however long it takes to be rid of the shoujo manga filter that appears whenever Eijirou is around. He spends all his spare time training or sleeping in the lead up to end of term exams, which he crushes, and soon finds himself sitting in the classroom on the last day of school, listening to results. He’s done it; if he can just get through today, his life will be Eijirou-free until the training camp in a week’s time – surely he can expunge his feelings by then?
Katsuki pays attention until the reveal that everyone's going to the training camp and the summer school thing was a ruse, just like last year. What kind of idiot couldn't have figured that out?
"Oh thank God," wheezes Kaminari, a few rows back.
There's a small list of students in remedial classes, but he and Eijirou aren't on it, so who cares. He stares out the window until class ends, and then some.
Eijirou sidles up as everyone else is leaving the classroom. Shit. "I feel so bad for Tsuyu and Ojiro, I hope they're not too down…"
"Who cares?" Katsuki grunts. "We passed."
Eijirou seems to take a little issue with that statement, but lets it go. "Yeah, thanks to your tutoring! I would have totally bombed the written without you. Again."
"You're fucking welcome," Katsuki says, magnanimous.
"Anyway, I wanted to ask you something." Katsuki raises an eyebrow. "The training camp doesn't start for another week, so I was wondering if you wanted to do something before that?" Katsuki’s other eyebrow joins its twin.
"I thought maybe we could go for a hike? And you could show me a trail you like?" Oh. Katsuki’s stomach flips. Hiking? Him and Eijirou? Nice.
"Yeah," says Katsuki, as if he's being strangled. "Sounds good." Pull it together, Katsuki chides himself, feeling entirely out of his element.
Eijirou is nodding. "Awesome! How’s this weekend?"
“Sure.” Katsuki knows there’s no coming back from this. He’s gonna feel uncomfortably fond of this boy until he dies.
They meet up at the train station nearest Katsuki's house, settling in (so closely their thighs brush how does this always happen) for the 45 minute ride to one of Katsuki's favourite spots.
Eijirou is carrying little more than a - ugh - fanny pack, and when Katsuki asks what's inside he unzips it to reveal: his cellphone, sunscreen, a water bottle, and a bag of trail mix with little pieces of beef jerky mixed in. Because of course. There's nothing to be seen in the way of actual food, but Katsuki predicted this - he's got enough sandwiches to last them.
"So, how long’s the trek?" Eijirou asks, shoving all his shit back into his - ugh - fanny pack. “Thirty minutes, an hour?”
“Not long,” Katsuki says, not having the heart to tell him it’s a four hour roundtrip.
Eijirou wastes no time in collapsing cartoonishly when they reach the top.
Katsuki lightly kicks him in the leg. "Get up."
"JUST LEAVE ME HERE TO DIE," Eijirou yells, muffled, into the earth.
Katsuki rolls his eyes and wanders off to admire the view, only alone for a few minutes before Eijirou apparently grows tired of lying in the dirt and joins him, staring off into the distance. From this side of the mountain, there's little more to see than trees for miles; the city, the school, and all their other responsibilities seem incredibly far away. Katsuki wonders if Eijirou feels that too.
"This is a lot better than you hiding out in the gym or in your room," Eijirou eventually tosses out, almost offhandedly. Almost. "I know it was only a couple days, but- it really felt like we were back in first year again, you know? And… now that we’re dating, I’d like-“
"What?!" Katsuki barks, chest heaving, and Eijirou quiets instantly. "DATING? You thought we were- this whole time-"
Eijirou gapes, lost for words. "Well-" he struggles, gesturing frantically, "-yeah!? I asked you out, Katsuki! You said yes, and we've been- I thought we were…" He pouts and folds his arms, clearly upset. "You're actually surprised?"
Katsuki is struggling to understand how this could have happened. He splutters. "What did I even do to make you think we were dating?! How the fuck!"
"Well! Nothing, really, I guess- you said yes! I thought you just wanted to-" Eijirou flounders, the hand gestures making a manic reappearance, "-take it slow or something!"
"Take it- I don't half-ass anything! As if that’s what dating me would be like- I would've, fucking, wooed you off your goddamn feet!" Katsuki blushes, realising what he’s said, but. It’s true, isn’t it?
Eijirou gasps and flushes even further, if that's possible. "That’s so romantic!" Huh? And then he's rushing forward, clasping Katsuki's (sparking) hands in his own as he kneels in the grass in front of him, leaning in so close that Katsuki can see the tears welling up in his rufescent eyes.
"Katsuki, go out with me. For real this time - I'm sorry that I wasn't clear enough before, but I really like you!"
"I really like you too!" Katsuki snaps, and then freezes, waiting for the humiliation to set in. He can feel his entire body heating up with embarrassment, a sheen of nervous sweat beading his brow. Maintaining eye contact with Eijirou - who is full out sobbing with a wide sappy grin on his face - is agonising, but he stubbornly refuses to look away, or take it back. Not this time.
Eijirou squints at him, sniffing loudly. "You really mean that? Romantically, this time, right?" Katsuki’s heart stops in his chest when Eijirou speaks so bluntly. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to this level of bold affection.
"Yeah." He speaks quietly. "Stop crying, idiot," he adds, but there's no bite to it. He wipes Eijirou's tears away with a thumb, his other hand still stuck in a vice grip.
Eijirou shakes his head, rubbing at his other eye with a balled-up fist. "I'm just so ha-happy!" He sobs, shoulders wracking with every syllable.
He cries for a while. Katsuki can do little more than hold him, thinking about the past few weeks since what he’s pretty sure was Eijirou’s confession – yeah, they probably weren’t dating, since he didn’t know what he was agreeing to. But they definitely are now. And he’s not gonna let Eijirou go for anything.
Although, as he stares down at their hands linked together, the circulation in his fingers almost completely cut off, he doubts Eijirou would let him.