Archive of Our Own

Eijirou gets intense déjà vu sometimes, but this is something else—he would swear on a stack of bibles in a court of law that he’s seen this man before, despite it being entirely impossible.

He knows it’s impossible because this guy just moved to the middle of nowhere, Florida from Japan, a country Eijirou has literally never been to in his entire life. Sure, that’s where his family’s from, and his first language is Japanese, but he himself has never actually stepped foot on the island. Eijirou’s a bonafide Floridian, born and raised, and thus it’s impossible for him to have seen this man before.

And yet...

They meet at Eijirou’s place of work, the IT help desk at UA, which is the supposedly prestigious university he goes to. The most attractive man Eijirou’s ever seen stomps in one morning, all blonde hair and righteous anger, and Eijirou somehow knows to say, “Hey, Bakugou. What’s up?” In Japanese. He shouldn’t know this guy’s name or ethnicity, but here he is, calling the dude some random name he just pulled out of his ass and expecting him to speak Japanese.

And, against all odds, the man replies, “Fuck off, Kirishima, I just need my goddamn ID to work.” Also in Japanese. Which is—to the say least—extremely weird.

The guy—Bakugou, apparently—wrinkles his nose, looking confused and even more angry, somehow. “Wait, how the fuck did you know my name?!” He asks, now in slightly accented but still perfectly fluent English, voice way louder than it needs to be in the mostly empty building.

“I don’t know, bro, how did you know my name?”

“I... I don’t know.” Bakugou’s face crumples and he clenches his fists.

Eijirou nods sagely. “We seem to have reached an impasse.”

“That’s not how you even use that phrase,” Bakugou snaps, looking way more exasperated than he has any business being at 9:22am, “And English isn’t even my first goddamn language!”

“It isn’t mine either!!” Eijirou replies defensively, before remembering that he’s at work and should probably try not to bicker with random expats that come in. “Whatever, I guess it doesn’t really matter. What can I help you with? You said something about your ID, right?”

Bakugou crosses his arms and looks like he’s about to blow his top and start yelling again, but he instead closes his eyes for a brief moment, ostensibly to calm himself down. He must have a lot of practice doing that, because in a matter of seconds, he’s the picture of cool, calm apathy. “Yeah. It’s not fucking working.” What is he talking about? “Also, can I speak in Japanese? English gives me a goddamn headache when I have to speak it.”

“Yeah, Japanese is fine. I think I’ll speak English, though, if that’s okay. And what do you mean? It’s just an ID. It usually doesn’t have to do much of anything.”

“You can speak English, I understand it just fine,” Bakugou huffs, “And you are so fucking stupid. I need it to get into my lab, hair for brains!”

“Oh, wow, are you a professor or whatever? You seem a bit young for that, dude.”

“What are you so goddamn nosy?!” Bakugou snarls, clearly against the idea of handing out even the meagerest scrap of personal information.

Eijirou rolls his eyes and shakes his head, which makes Bakugou bristle like Eijirou’s coming at him with a stick. “Listen, I’m gonna find out all that information anyway when I put your name into the computer, I just thought it’d be better if it came from you. Plus it’ll streamline this whole process, and you can get out of here quicker to go yell at other unsuspecting strangers or… whatever it is you do all day.”

In stilted, grinding words, a clearly annoyed Bakugou gives Eijirou an abridged version of his life story. He’s 23—just a few months older than Eijirou, incidentally—was recently accepted to UA’s Chemistry PhD program, and moved to the States from Shizuoka literally three days ago. He’s dodgy about telling Eijirou why he made the move halfway across the world to a distinctly middle-of-the-road (in the grand scheme of things) university in fucking Florida. He’ll only say that they gave him a full ride plus a large bonus, which doesn’t really justify leaving Japan, in Eijirou's opinion, but whatever, he can keep his secrets. Luckily for Bakugou, Eijirou’s not particularly nosy, so he doesn’t really care enough to hound him about it. If Mina was here, that’d be a different story, but she’s off today, so Bakugou is safe.

Bakugou’s current project involves a number of pretty dangerous reagents, so the lab is kept locked at all times, and UA recently switched over to card swipes on the doors instead of actual locks. They use student and faculty IDs in lieu of keys, which is supposedly easier, but the jury’s still out on that one, because they've had their fair share of problems.

Incidentally, Eijirou is one of the people who actually designed and implemented the swipes, so fixing this problem should be a breeze.

He expresses this to Bakugou, who scoffs. “You? Designed something that doesn’t work? Shocker.” Why does he say that like he’s familiar with Eijirou’s laundry list of failures? Bakugou’s lucky he’s hot, because he’s being kind of a shithead.

“Hey, bro, don’t be rude! I’m working toward a computer engineering PhD, okay, I know a thing or two about programming simple shit. Let me grab my computer and we can head over to your lab to figure out what’s wrong. It’ll be annoying to do remotely,” Eijirou says, standing and sauntering out of sight before Bakugou can get a word in edgewise. Serves his ass right.

Eijirou pokes his head into his boss’ office to say, “Hey, Fat, I’m going to the chem building with a client, not sure how long I’ll be. Tamaki’s at the desk and Denki’s coming in soon, so it should be fine.”

Toyomitsu, whose nickname is Fatgum for reasons beyond Eijirou’s comprehension, waves dismissively. “Sounds good, have fun, kid.” He pauses and glances out the window. “Chem building’s a bit of a walk, though.”

“Yeah, but it’s a problem with the swipe, so I gotta go out. It’s barely pushing 90 since it’s still early, anyway, so it shouldn’t be too bad.”

Apparently, 90 degrees Fahrenheit is incredibly bad if the highest temperature your hometown gets is 85, and that’s only on the two or three hottest days of the year. North central Florida spends the entire summer—which, in Florida, is from early May to mid-September—hovering around 90 degrees, usually maxing out at about 97. That combined with near-constant 100% humidity creates a special hell for people who aren’t used to it, because the heat index is, more often than not, climbing up toward 105.

Bakugou is obviously not used to it.

His first mistake was wearing jeans and combat boots, but when Eijirou points that out during their trek halfway across campus, Bakugou won’t hear it. He snaps that he has to wear it to work in the lab, which makes sense now that Eijirou thinks about it, but that doesn’t mean he has to have it on right this instant.

“You know you can just change there, right? You don’t have to schlepp across campus in your lab clothes, you can just bring them in a backpack or something. That’s what I do when I have to work with electrical stuff. Can’t believe you didn’t think of that, Mr. I’m Getting A Chemistry PhD.”

Surprisingly, Bakugou doesn’t yell at him. He just clenches his fists and grinds his teeth, ineffectually wiping some of the sweat off his face with the back of his hand.

Eijirou doesn’t know how he knows what he’s about to say, he doesn’t know why he randomly switches to Japanese, and he certainly doesn’t know why on earth he doesn’t stop himself from saying it. “Oh, right, it’s because you don’t like changing in public! How could I forget! Being trans isn’t easy, man, I feel for you.” Eijirou’s brain grinds to a halt. Oh lord, oh God, why does he do anything at all ever? Why does he bother to open his big fat stupid mouth?

“How the fuck do you know that?!” Bakugou howls, bright red and panicked, face shiny with sweat.

“I don’t know!!”

“What do you mean you don’t fucking know?!” Oh, great, now they’re getting into a shouting match in the Plaza. That’s just what Eijirou needed today, how did Bakugou know! People are starting to stare at them. Love that shit.

“I mean I don’t fucking know! It’s the same as with your name, man, I just knew! I don’t know how I know but I do!”

Bakugou growls and drops his fluffy blonde head into his hands. “That’s insane! This is insanity!”

“You think I don’t feel that way too? Dude, I think I know what your favorite color is, this is the craziest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Oh yeah? What is it?”

“Forest green.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, I think I know shit like that, too. Do you cry during found family movies?”

Eijirou feels himself flush pink. “They’re just so heartwarming, man!”

“And do you work out when your insomnia gets bad?”

“Yep, it helps me knock out!”

“God, shit, do you cut the sleeves off of perfectly good t-shirts because they ‘constrict your shoulders’?”

Uh oh. Houston, we have a problem.

Oh, God, they even had that whole conversation in Japanese and Eijirou didn't notice!

After Eijirou nods dumbly, Bakugou groans again. There is silence for a long moment as they both stare at each other, intrigued but at the same time put off, trying to figure out how the hell any of this is possible. It’s uncanny and unheard of and neither of them know what to do about it.

As they continue their seemingly endless journey to the chem building, they lapse into semi-comfortable conversation, steering clear of the whole “I know way more about you than I really should” situation. They have more pressing matters to tend to—namely Bakugou’s exile from his lab—so they both dive into problem-solving mode, content to never discuss this weird déjà vu bullshit again. It’ll be in the best interest of both parties to simply let sleeping dogs lie.

It turns out that Bakugou’s ID won’t work on the door because his advisor, an older, scraggly looking guy named Dr. Aizawa, just hadn’t given him access yet. Once they figure it out, it takes Eijirou about 15 seconds to fix the problem, and he bids Bakugou adieu, hoping they’ll never have to cross paths again.

It’s not like Eijirou didn’t like Bakugou. No, the problem here is that Eijirou liked Bakugou way too much. The instant infatuation that came over him, coupled with all that forbidden knowledge craziness, means that Eijirou would be better off just not getting involved with all that. Bakugou’s probably more trouble than he’s worth.

Of course, it feels like a huge loss, but Eijirou has to do what’s best for him. Plus, Bakugou definitely seemed like he hated Eijirou's guts, so it’s not like they could hang out more even if he wanted to. Which I mean… he wants to. He just knows he shouldn’t.

That night, though, Eijirou has a dream that he swears he’s had before.

Dream start.

“We seem to have reached an impasse,” Eijirou says to the room at large, showing off an English phrase he learned recently, though he’s not sure why that matters in the slightest, considering that he’s normally fluent in English.

He’s sitting at a round dinner table shoved into the corner of a small apartment, a cramped but still homey space. There’s a child on his lap who’s cooing and giggling, slamming their hands on the table with glee, completely ignoring the food on the table that Eijirou somehow knows was made by the blonde man who’s making funny faces at the toddler.

There’s a gold wedding band on Eijirou’s finger, something he only notices when the child—a little girl named Kana, his daughter, how could he forget?—starts tugging on it, trying to slide it off, apparently having grown bored of her papa’s funny faces.

“No way, Kana-chan,” He chides in Japanese, kissing the crown of her head, “That belongs to your otou-san. Maybe your papa will give you his.”

His husband snorts loudly, a sound that Eijirou knows he’s heard a thousand times. Part of him wants to hear it a thousand times more. “Fat chance! This baby is all mine,” The blonde man—Katsuki, of course it’s Katsuki—declares, waving around his left hand, silver wedding band glinting in the dim light. His voice is higher pitched than Eijirou expected it to be, remembered it being.

Kana laughs delightedly, making both of her fathers grin widely. There’s nothing more important to Eijirou or Katsuki than this powerful little girl.

Katsuki comes to sit at the table and Kana clambers off Eijirou’s lap and into his, something that used to upset Eijirou once upon a time, but not so much these days. She has a preferred parent for different situations, and he can’t fault her for that—she wants Eijirou to dress and bathe her, Katsuki to feed her and do her hair, and they both have to tuck her in at night and hold her hand as she walks.

It takes some coaxing, but she eventually opens her mouth for Katsuki to shovel in some food. “I’m only feeding you half of this, string bean, you gotta eat the rest by yourself like a big girl,” Katsuki tells her firmly, making her pout, which makes Eijirou notice, for the millionth time, the stark resemblance between his daughter and husband. It’s uncanny. Sure, she’s got Eijirou’s round eyes and sharp teeth, but she’s Katsuki all the way down to her furrowed eyebrows and stubby fingers.

“But papa!”

“No buts, sweetheart,” Eijirou chimes, “You’re a big girl, right?

“Yeah!”

“So you’re not a baby?”

“No!!”

“Well, only babies still need their papas to feed them.”

Katsuki huffs a laugh, shaking his head of messy blonde that Eijirou knows is much softer than it looks. “Way to kick her while she’s down, Ei.”

When Eijirou meets Katsuki’s eyes, his heart stops. It’s Bakugou.

Dream end.

He wakes up hyperventilating and drenched in sweat like he’s just run a marathon. What the fuck was that? Why on earth is he dreaming about being married to Bakugou of all people, and why did it feel so familiar? Why did it feel so safe, so right?

It takes him almost an hour to fall back asleep. When he does, he doesn’t dream.

He rolls up to work the next day half-asleep and half-dead, having gotten a poor night’s rest after that weird ass dream he had. He’s glad he decided to leave Bakugou alone, because he can’t imagine having to face him after all that, after seeing him so soft and fond and warm.

As if he can read Eijirou’s thoughts and really wants to ruin his day, Bakugou stomps up to the desk within minutes of Eijirou clocking in, looking even more exhausted than Eijirou does, if that’s even possible. “Shitty Hair,” He barks in a poor excuse for a greeting, “My fucking ID won’t work again.”

Eijirou can’t help it. He groans. “God, what’s the issue now? It’s literally been one day, Katsuki,” He says, freezing when he realizes what he just called Bakugou, in Japanese no less.

“This shit again, huh? Don’t fucking call me by my name like you know me!”

Switching back to English, Eijirou mutters, “I’m sorry, man, I just… didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. Can we go to the chem building now and get this over with?”

Katsuki—no, Bakugou, shit—scoffs but agrees, rudely gesturing for Eijirou to lead the way. After quickly touching base with Fatgum, they start their journey to Bakugou’s lab, steeped in awkward silence.

It’s a long ass walk and, as tired as he is, the silence is grating on Eijirou’s nerves enough to loosen his lips. “Bakugou, do you think we’re cursed?”

“Hah? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Well, it’s just that with all the weird shit that happened yesterday, I didn’t think I’d see you again. Then I have some crazy dream about you, and you show up again? It makes me wonder if we pissed off some god or something.”

Bakugou suddenly stops walking. “A dream?”

“Yeah, dude, it was super embarrassing.”

“Were we… Were we married?”

Eijirou’s heart pounds in his ears. “Yeah. We were.”

“Fuck,” Katsuki spits, “I had the same fucking dream.”

God, are you kidding me? What are the fucking odds? “Dude, this is absolutely insane!”

Running his fingers through his already disheveled hair, Bakugou huffs a small, incredulous laugh. “You’re telling me. This is too goddamn much, Ei, why the fuck is this happening?”

“Right there! You called me Ei! That’s what you called me in the dream!”

By the time they finally make it to the chem building, they confirm that they had the exact same dream, down to every single one of the scant details they can remember. Eijirou’s almost sad that you forget most of a dream right after you wake up—if that wasn’t the case, they would’ve been able to figure out if their dreams were truly identical, word-for-word.

This time, the problem with the swipe is that someone spilled coffee on it and it short-circuited. It’s harder to fix than yesterday’s issue but Eijirou manages it without much trouble, because he’s a goddamn professional. He wants to stick around and talk to Bakugou a bit more, but he gets summarily kicked out, Bakugou spouting something about being behind on his work, even though that’s not really how grad school works and it’s also only the second day of the semester.

Eijirou decides to take the L. If this dream shit happens again, he’ll really have to do something about it, but for now, he’ll leave well enough alone.

The next night, he doesn’t have a weird Bakugou dream, so he figures he’s in the clear.

He continues thinking he’s in the clear until two weeks later, when he literally runs into Bakugou at the Starbucks in the science library. After they collide, Bakugou looks very much like a spooked horse, and when he meets Eijirou’s eyes, the first words out of his mouth are, “You stupid or something?”

Eijirou frowns. Bakugou walked into him, not the other way around. He shrugs it off and tries to make polite conversation, because he’s polite, but Bakugou isn’t having it. They speak for only a minute before he bolts, speed walking out of the building as soon as he finishes spewing some dumb excuse about methylene or whatever. It’s strange that he even bothered with an excuse.

His ego’s admittedly a little hurt, but Eijirou shrugs it off, knowing full well that things are weird—and will probably always be weird—between him and Bakugou. He can’t really blame Bakugou for wanting to get the fuck out of dodge.

Perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised that he has another dream that night.

He wakes up feeling mushy and warm, still full of affection for the Katsuki—Bakugou, fuck—and daughter in his dream, the rest of the details quickly fading into the ether. That sense of family is something Eijirou’s always wanted for himself, so getting to experience it, even if just for a moment in a dream, makes him stupidly happy.

Not scheduled for work until the afternoon, he glides through his day, unable to keep a dopey smile off his face even while he’s in class.

When he does show up for work, Bakugou’s there, leaning against the desk and talking to one of Eijirou’s many coworkers, Kyouka. They seem friendly by Bakugou standards, which is surprising, but it’s really not any of his business who Bakugou is or isn’t friends with. Still riding the high of that dream, he waves gaily and greets, “Hey, Bakugou! Kyouka! What’s up?” Kyouka shoots him a smile and turns back to her computer.

Bakugou’s eyes meet Eijirou’s and he turns the cutest shade of pink Eijirou’s ever seen in his entire life. His expression is inscrutable—it’s hard to tell if he’s surprised, annoyed, upset, or even just constipated.

“Ei—I mean—shit—god! I have to talk to you, Shitty Hair.”

Oh? Interesting, especially considering the fact that Eijirou had another dream last night. “Alright, lemme just go clock in real fast, I’ll be back in a jiff.”

True to form, Eijirou returns not but a minute later. Bakugou looks both happy and mortified to see him, which is a hilarious combination of facial expressions that Eijirou privately commits to memory. Bakugou shoots Kyouka a look and she rolls her eyes, pushing herself away from the desk and drawling, “I’m going on a coffee run. Want anything, Eiji?”

“Oh, yeah, can you grab me a medium hazelnut iced latte? I’ll Venmo you.”

“Don’t worry about it, dude, I got you covered since you got it last week. Bakugou, you want something?”

Bakugou grunts. “Yeah.” There appear to be no more words forthcoming.

Kyouka rolls her eyes again, like she’s used to it, which she might be for all Eijirou knows. “So the usual, got it. I’ll be back. Don’t miss me too much.” She throws a lazy peace sign over her shoulder as she leaves.

Now alone, Bakugou’s expression is veering more toward mortified.

Patience goes a long way with Bakugou—something Eijirou doesn’t know how he knows, but he does—so he simply waits for Bakugou to speak. It doesn’t actually take very long.

“Did you have another dream? Last night?” Oh. Okay. So it really is like that.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Eijirou replies, “Yep. Beach?” Bakugou nods. “Great. That one was, uh… oof.”

“You can say that shit again,” Bakugou huffs, slumping over to drape himself across the helpdesk, “This should be impossible.”

“Yeah, it really should be. What do you think it means?”

“Hah?”

“Well, there has to be some reason this is happening, right? Maybe the universe is trying to tell us something.”

“What, the universe wants us to pop out a kid and move to fucking Musutafu?”

Now there’s a word that sounds familiar, but Eijirou has no clue what it means. “Musutafu?”

“That’s the city we live in. In the dreams or whatever.”

Eijirou frowns, racking his brain for more information, but he comes up empty-handed. “Bro, that sounds fake.”

It’s not like Eijirou has the answers, so he doesn’t know why Bakugou keeps asking him shit like that. He shrugs helplessly and Bakugou groans. Eijirou does take a note to Google Musutafu later, to see if he can maybe figure out what’s going on. He doubts it, but it can’t hurt to try, right?

Kyouka returns with their coffees and Bakugou snatches his before storming out of the building, a familiar hurricane of blonde hair and righteous anger. She raises an eyebrow at Eijirou, who just shrugs helplessly again. Why does everyone expect him to know everything? He’s only human!

A few dreamless weeks go by, which is a huge relief. He doesn’t know what he’d do with another dream.

He and Bakugou actually end up running into each other so much—and evidently have enough mutual friends—that they start actively hanging out. It’s awkward, at times, but Eijirou thinks it’ll pay off in the near future.

If they ignore the whole “hey bro we both had the same dream about being married and having a kid twice” thing, they get along like a house on fire. It takes almost an entire month of tentative friendship for it to solidify into a true friendship, but it’s more than worth the wait. True friendship very quickly becomes, on Eijirou’s end at least, a huge fucking crush.

There’s just something about Bakugou that Eijirou can’t get enough of. The two of them click like long lost puzzle pieces finally reunited.

One day, they’re at Bakugou’s apartment, marathoning the shitty All Might superhero movies Bakugou loves more than anything. He has bad taste but so does Eijirou, so they’re enjoying themselves. They’re sprawled out on Bakugou’s couch, legs tangled, watching intensely as the final showdown of the last movie plays out across the screen. The main character is fighting valiantly, but he’s losing, and Eijirou doesn’t know if he can handle him losing.

Because he’s a jerk, Bakugou pauses it for a bathroom break right when things are about to pop off. “Ugh, Bakugou, I hate you! I’m seriously gonna die if I don’t see the end of this fight!” He whines, frowning when Bakugou laughs at him.

“You’re so dramatic it makes me want to throw up,” Bakugou says as he dodges the pillows that Eijirou throws at him, “Now let me take a goddamn piss in peace!”

They do eventually finish the movie and Eijirou cries like a goddamn baby when All Might is defeated. Bakugou makes fun of him, of course, but his carmine eyes are wet, too. It doesn’t matter how many times he’s seen it before, something about that last showdown between All Might and All For One is heartbreaking in a really visceral way.

Bakugou makes burgers after that and Eijirou thinks he might be a little bit in love.

That night, Eijirou has another dream.

They don’t talk about the dream, but they both know the other had it. It’s just too weird. They don’t want to ruin the friendship they’ve established, and discussing the dreams would do just that.

Two weeks later, Eijirou is helping Bakugou make a banner for Chemistry Club. They’re on the floor of Bakugou’s bedroom, surrounded by paint and glue and stencils, trying to fix where Eijirou misspelled ‘chemistry’. There’s music playing from Bakugou’s laptop on the bed and they’re chatting about the band’s discography as they work.

Eijirou stands to head to the bathroom, immediately slipping on some construction paper and falling straight onto his face, landing squarely on their pile of paint bottles. There’s paint everywhere.

“I’m going to rip your fucking nuts off!” Bakugou screams, now covered head-to-toe in paint and absolutely livid.

There’s red in his hair and green on his cheeks and orange on his shirt, and while Eijirou knows that he should look silly, he can’t help but think that Bakugou looks handsome adorned by myriad colors. Luckily they were already wearing old clothes in case they spilled anything, so there were no major casualties.

It takes them a few hours, but they manage to clean everything up without too much trouble. Eijirou crashes on Bakugou’s couch that night. He has another dream.

When Eijirou wakes up, he’s alone. Bakugou apparently dipped out early that morning, but he at least left some breakfast in the microwave for Eijirou, so no harm, no foul.

When Bakugou’s roommate Uraraka shows up an hour later, he’s playing on Bakugou’s Switch and having a grand old time.

He has less of a grand old time a few months later, because his deadline to present the first half of his thesis is looming. Most days find him in the library, panicking, or at Bakugou and Uraraka’s apartment, also panicking. Bakugou spends a lot of time trying to help him, which mostly involves yelling, but it actually does alleviate some of Eijirou’s anxiety.

They’re on Bakugou’s couch, now, and the presentation is just three days away. Eijirou has his laptop resting on the arm as he frantically edits his PowerPoint while Bakugou is peacefully reading a book, head resting in Eijirou’s lap. This is their usual position, because it gives Eijirou the physical contact he needs without making Bakugou uncomfortable.

“I think this is it, I think this is the end for me,” Eijirou groans in Japanese, cradling his head in his hands. They’ve gotten into the habit of switching off languages every other day, so they can both practice their weaker one.

Bakugou, head in Eijirou’s lap, snorts rudely. “Shut up, idiot. You’re gonna be fucking fine.”

It ‘not being shit’ is the closest Bakugou ever really comes to complimenting something, so Eijirou will happily take that. When he goes home that night, he actually feels okay about his presentation.

When he goes home that night, he has another dream.

They don’t talk about that dream, either. It’s become almost run-of-the-mill, now, to know all these things about each other that they shouldn’t. It just makes their friendship seem that much deeper, feel that much more meaningful.

They’ve been friends for almost a year, now, and they’ve decided to go on a trip over the summer. Upon Bakugou’s insistence, they get a cabin in North Carolina and go mountain climbing in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Bakugou drives them there in his little black sedan, a 9-hour journey that involves a lot of scream-singing and podcast episodes, and it’s already the best vacation Eijirou has ever taken.

The cabin they rent is tiny and cozy and Eijirou loves it.

As it turns out, Eijirou has no talent for mountain climbing, but he has the time of his life trying anyway. Bakugou is difficult to keep up with on even Eijirou’s best days, but here, in his element, he’s untouchable.

On the last day of their trip, Eijirou finally manages to make it all the way to the summit with Bakugou, who’s fucking glowing.

“I never thought I’d say this,” Bakugou hums, looking out over the thick viridian forest spread out beneath them, “But we did good.”

“Yeah,” Eijirou agrees, “We really did.”

Exhausted from the climb, Eijirou falls into bed that night and is asleep before his head hits the pillow. That doesn’t stop him from having yet another dream.

That dream is short, shorter than all the rest, and for some reason, it feels incomplete. Eijirou doesn’t dwell on it, though, because they have a 9-hour drive ahead of them and that’s much more pressing. Bakugou doesn’t mention the dream and neither does he, as is tradition.

Their journey home is equally fun as their journey to the cabin in the first place. Eijirou’s crush may or may not be getting entirely out of hand, because he feels himself veering dangerously close to falling head-over-heels in love.

They’re best friends and they’re closer than Eijirou’s ever been to anybody. They share something special, even without all the crazy dream/déjà vu bullshit.

Not to be sappy or anything, but Eijirou really thinks them two halves of one whole.

Exactly one week later, after he and Bakugou see each other for the first time since their return from North Carolina, Eijirou finds out why the dream felt half-finished. It’s because the other shoe had yet to drop. When it drops, it shatters everything beneath it.

From that one, he bolts upright in bed, having a full-fledged panic attack. He’s overcome with grief from losing Katsuki and overwhelmed by the fear of facing death.

Okay, enough is enough. He has to talk to Katsuki about this.

They’ve been friends for almost a year now and it’s getting goddamn ridiculous. They just can’t keep dancing around this, around each other. Not after that.

He’s getting dressed that morning when his phone rings, a loud sound that makes his splitting headache that much worse, and he considers ignoring it. He eventually caves and answers without looking at the caller ID, mumbling out a tired, “Hello?”

A frantic voice snaps something back at him in Japanese and his heart skips a beat. It’s Katsuki. He’s okay.

So yeah, Katsuki had the same dream. Guess that answers that.

They agree to meet up for breakfast, both still rattled from the intensity of the dream, both needing to prove to themselves that the other is okay. A Denny’s parking lot at 6:30am isn’t really the best place to have a tearful reunion, but Eijirou can’t fight back the tears when he sees Katsuki healthy and alive.

Surprisingly, Katsuki doesn’t attack Eijirou when he sweeps him up into a big hug. His arms simply snake around Eijirou’s neck and hold tight, like he’s feeling just as desperate as Eijirou is, like he too needs the comfort.

“Maybe this isn’t the time for it, but god, I’m so glad you’re okay,” Eijirou breathes out reverently, reaching out despite himself to cup Katsuki’s cheeks.

Katsuki doesn’t push him away. Oddly enough, he replies to Eijirou in English. “Fucking… yeah. Me too.”

“Well I should hope you’re glad that you’re okay!”

“No, Ei, I meant you. I’m… I’d kill you if you’d died.”

Eijirou chuckles fondly, face flushing, tracing his thumbs along the soft skin of Katsuki’s face. “Isn’t that a perfect example of beating a dead horse?”

“Get sassy with me and I really will kill you!”

Unable to keep the grin off his face, Eijirou looks down into Katsuki’s eyes, throwing caution to the wind in favor of running with the feelings he knows they’re both neck-deep in right now. In Japanese, Eijirou hums, “Hey, Katsuki, I like you. You wanna go out some time?”

Oh god, Katsuki looks so fucking cute when he blushes like that. Eijirou feels himself fall in even deeper.

Katsuki looks confused. “Hah?”

Since he struggles with expressing complex ideas in Japanese, Eijirou switches to English for his explanation.

“Didn’t you figure it out? Those dreams, they’re of our past life. It all happened already. Didn’t you notice that you died in April, and I died in October? Of the same year? In the late 90s? Which, you know, lines up exactly with when we were born? Plus I looked up Musutafu and that’s what Shizuoka was called until like 1998.”

“Holy fucking shit.” Bakugou's reply is also, strangely enough, in English.

“Yep. Guess the Buddhists were right, huh?”

Snorting a laugh, Katsuki spins on his heel to head into the Denny’s without saying anything more. For some reason, Eijirou finds himself rooted to the spot. Did Katsuki give him an answer when he asked him out? Oh shit, he totally didn’t, Eijirou’s getting rejected!

Tapping his foot impatiently, Katsuki huffs, “Well, dipshit? We gonna get this date thing started or what?”

Eijirou never thought he’d say this, but… thank god for déjà vu.