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“There are burdens on my shoulders that I can’t shake off.”
Those words shook Kirishima to his core as he stared at Bakugou. What could he say-- moreso, what could he do? Even Kirishima knew how Bakugou felt, he couldn’t exactly tell him how he felt was wrong, no matter how Kirishima himself felt about the words. He wants to frown, take a moment to think, but he realizes how that would look. So, with only one option left in his arsenal, Kirishima takes in a deep breath and smiles, opening his arms wide.
“I’m willing to bear the burden with you,” he promises. He wraps his arms around Bakugou, he holds him close as sobs wreck his body. He will always be here, Bakugou’s rock when everything else decides to go wrong. He cries and Kirishima’s shirt clings to him. He does not move Bakugou, he does not say a word. Bakugou needs this, and Kirishima is willing to give it to him.
The next few weeks blur, finals are nearing. Bakugou sits at his desk, Kirishima on his bed, a pencil in mouth as he stares at the steadily blurring words in Bakugou’s notebook. He looks up, a smile on his lips.
“Hey, Bakubro, how do you do this formula again?” he asks, freezing for a moment as he looks at him, he notices the tension in his shoulders first, he always does. It coils in Bakugou and it never sleeps, ever present even on the most relaxing days. He watches the lamplight glow on the pages and sees the gleam, a worried frown playing on his lips. “You okay?” he changes his question. He takes a moment to wonder if those were the right words, if Bakugou needed his concern, his worry. He wonders if all that Bakugou needed was a hug, but it was too late. It’s not like Kirishima’s quirk let him go back in time. Bakugou shields his face from Kirishima for a moment, but they both know he has been revealed. He nods and this time Kirishima moves.
Although… they both know he has made the first move each time by now. Even if it was not physical.
“Hey, Shitty-Hair.” Kirishima looks up from the vegetables he was cutting with a smile.
“Yeah, Bakubro?” he chuckles as Bakugou playfully hits his shoulder. Today is a good day, Kirishima decides. Nothing could go wrong with the sun shining, the birds singing. Nothing could hurt them today, and that is what makes the day perfect.
“I want some advice,” he says and Kirishima nods. It wouldn’t be like him to need it-- he would only ask if he wanted it, no matter how much others would say he needed it.
“Over what?” he pops a small piece of carrot into his mouth as he asks, continuing his vegetable cutting.
“Love.” Kirishima’s heart breaks at the word, the knife hits the cutting board with a little more force than necessary.
“What about it, bro?” his voice cracks. He feels like he is cracking, a mirror that has been hit and now threatens to shatter. Not only broken, not only cracked, but on the edge of shattering. Was he not obvious enough.
“I like someone and don’t know how to tell them.”
And of course that person isn’t Kirishima.
But life moves on, and Kirishima does not dwell. He does not leave Bakugou’s side, being his friend is better than being nothing at all, afterall. That’s what he says to the moon and the stars, and they comfort him when nothing else can. They know all of his secrets, all of his loves. Bakugou calls, it’s too late but Kirishima picks up anyways. He stares out of the window as he hears his labored breathing, the tears that Kirishima knows is there.
“Tell me about it,” he says. He hears a grunt, the shifting of blankets, and then his voice.
“I don’t know how to say it.” Bakugou admits. Kirishima nods before humming to show he’s listening.
“Just try, I won’t judge,” he reminds his friend. He reminds his love. The stars twinkle and he knows they are laughing at him. How hopeless is he?
The weeks go on, finals pass, and Kirishima is sitting besides Denki, a grin on his face. His fingers move across the controller with more grace than he thought he possessed, his red eyes focused for a moment before his name is called. Kirishima looks over, a smile on his face, waving his hand. Denki lets out a laugh and Kirishima groans when he realizes that his character died. He smiles as he turns to face Bakugou, blinking before he stands and follows the other boy. He wonders what’s-- he nearly trips as Bakugou grabs his wrist and drags him into his room. Kirishima blinks as he looks around the room, taking in the details he has already memorized. He smiles as he sits on the bed, watching Bakugou. His own hands shake as he watches Bakugou pace back and forth, over and over again. He’s sure that Bakugou is mumbling, much like how Midoriya would do, but he does not comment on it. He leans back as he waits, the patience he has for Bakugou is infinite, no matter how he longs for more understanding. Bakugou, no matter how smart he may be, lacks in the… people department.
“Just-- just listen,” Bakugou finally stops pacing as he speaks, Kirishima nods. “I-- well, fuck.” he curses as he shifts on his feet, his face is a deep shade of red, “Well, I fucking like you, okay?” for a moment, Kirishima cannot breathe. He cannot think, his world stops, it spins, and then it moves on. But for Kirishima, time is frozen. He stares at Bakugou in the silence of his room, he does not know what to say. How to word it, how to make this perfect. Bakugou curses again, looking away. “I get it, you don’t--” Kirishima launches himself at him in a moment, a gleeful laugh falling from his lips as he wraps his arms around him.
“I thought when you asked-- I thought it was someone else!” he lets out another happy laugh, “I love you too, Bakubro!” Bakugou lets out a noise, but he wraps his arms around Kirishima in return. Kirishima lays his head on his chest and closes his eyes. Everything is perfect.
For once, everything is perfect.