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The sun was shining.
Well, obviously. It was summer and the heat was only steadily rising, each day warmer than the last. That’s why Kirishima had decided to drag Bakugou along to get ice creams; it was the perfect chance to cool off and get to spend more time with each other.
They hadn’t had a chance to go do anything because of school and even the first week or so of summer since Bakugou was more explosive and seemed to cause a ruckus wherever they went. But that was okay, because there were days like this where Bakugou was just… mild. He was gentle and kind and let himself be himself, and Kirishima lived for it. And it was progress, as they were slowly but surely warming up to each other, just like the summer.
So that was how Kirishima found himself being called a moron for getting two very different flavours and getting a stomach ache while they sat on a park bench, enjoying the sunshine.
“Why didn’t you warn me?” he whines, still licking the side of the cone that had the avocado flavoured scoop. Bakugou slaps his hand and Kirishima yelps, almost dropping the cone. The explosive teen just glared at him.
“How was I supposed to stop you? You’re too curious for your own good, idiot,” he says, crossing his arms. “No sane person would get avocado and strawberry.”
Kirishima sighed, dejected, and held the ice cream away from him. He looked at Bakugou. “Can you take it?”
“Fuck no,” he replied. “First off, I’m not eating that, and second off, ice-”
“Ice cream fuckin’ sucks,” Kirishima finishes for him, rolling his eyes. “But c’mon, no sane person doesn’t like ice cream.” There was a glint in his eyes now, victory in having used Bakugou’s words against him. “And look, I finished the avocado. You can have the strawberry?”
Bakugou looked extremely angry for a few seconds before he huffed and grabbed the cone from him viciously. “Fuck you.”
Kirishima beamed. That meant he had won.
And so they sat, Kirishima blabbering about how much he missed Bakugou when he had to stay at his house and the other boy just listening, leaning against the arm of the bench to face Kirishima, the tiniest smile playing on his lips, the summer heat breathing down their necks and sending a pleasant wind now and then to keep them satisfied. Bakugou slowly started to chime in more, first with complaining about how annoying Deku was, but then shifting into a normal conversation. They started flinging rapid-fire questions to each other for fun.
“Favourite holiday?” asks Kirishima.
“What kind of question is that?” Bakugou responds, but then shakes his head. “Halloween. Stuck on an island with three things. What are they?”
Kirishima hesitates, humming. “I would take… a box of matches, water filter and… you!” With that, he leans over and tries to hug Bakugou, who promptly pushes him off the bench. “You can’t take people!” he says.
“Okay, okay!” Kirishima holds his hands up in defense, standing up with a grimace. “Ow, dude.”
Bakugou looks away, feeling a little guilty. He mumbles a short, “sorry.”
Kirishima just laughs, sitting down next to him again and letting his eyes roam the sky, clouds pink and poofy in the early evening. “What’s your favourite colour and why?”
“Red,” Bakugou says.
“Why, though?” Kirishima asks, desperate for more conversation.
“Because-” Bakugou says, faltering. “Your eyes… are pretty.”
Kirishima stops. Stops moving, stops breathing, just looks up at Bakugou. His eyes are shiny and he opens and closes his mouth like a goldfish, trying to formulate a response even though he’s seeing stars. Bakugou rarely compliments him so forwardly, and when he says it with such genuine force? Kirishima just malfunctions.
“And I-” the other continues, but cuts himself off, closing his eyes and sighing through his nose.
“Bakugou, what-” Kirishima says, but he doesn’t respond, and that’s the end of that.
The next time Bakugou agrees to go out is a few days later. Shitty hair had texted him asking if he wanted to go to the arcade that night, and he was actually kind of looking forward to it. He used to play more there when he was younger, so it’ll be a little bit of a walk down memory lane, and who better to do it with than Kirishima?
There was a quick knock at the front door and he leapt down the stairs two at a time, opening the door to a giant grin and sharp teeth.
“Hey!” he says, waving. Bakugou grumbles in response, shouting a quick “bye! I’ll be back later!” to his mom and then promptly slamming the door.
The walk to the arcade is pretty peaceful. Bakugou is still working on his conversation skills and Kirishima seems to be thinking about something, and he watches as a frown works its way onto the red head's face.
“Hey. Stop that,” Bakugou comments, flicking his forehead.
“Huh?” Kirishima had been totally zoned out. “Stop what?”
“That thinkin’ shit. You’re overthinkin’. Just…” he grits his teeth. “Talk to me. About it.”
Kirishima had been working with him on being kinder, and that involved asking people about what their problems were. He was grateful, in a sense. No one had really wanted to teach him stuff like that before, would rather just shout at him (not that Bakugou cared).
Kirishima grinned, excitedly grabbing his hand. “Thanks, dude. But it’s fine, I was just thinking about how I’m gonna beat you in there.” He laughed, and Bakugou had to hide a small smile.
“Yeah right! I’m gonna win every game, just you watch me, shitty hair!” he declared as they walked into the arcade.
The bright lights and the loud sounds were suffocating but enjoyable, the sort that kind of let you forget everything else except for now . Neon glares filled Bakugou’s vision, red, yellow, blue, green, all flashing across every surface, making it look, in a way, ethereal. Kirishima’s eyes were blazing. Bakugou had let him win one of the games and now he was determined to win more, fingers darting frantically between buttons and joysticks, tongue poking out in concentration. It was pretty funny, but seeing the redhead in such high spirits (higher spirits than usual) made Bakugou feel less stressed out. When he has nothing to do it makes him feel jittery, especially over the summer. With school work and training and everything else, Bakugou was able to keep his mind quiet, but over the summer when he just sat in his room his thoughts were louder than ever.
“You okay, dude?”
Kirishima’s voice pulled him out of his mind, and he shook his head a little, clearing it. “Duh.”
He looks back towards the game screen and narrows his eyes; it was game over. Player two won.
“You should have been paying attention baku-bro!” Kirishima laughs, poking his arm. Bakugou just clenches his fists in anger.
“Again,” he says. “I’ll win this time. And don’t call me that.”
And so the game begins again, and again begins Kirishima’s sad struggle, yelping when he loses health and pressing the buttons a little harder than he should. Bakugou’s heart does a flip in his chest and he lets his hands slow down a little. The screen flashes with bright letters and Kirishima claps his hands loudly. He looks so happy.
“Yes!” he says as he wins, but then looks over to Bakugou, a little fearful. “Do you wanna go again?”
Bakugou rolls his eyes. “No, I’m good.”
“What do you wanna play next?”
“You choose.”
“Racing, then,” Kirishima says.
“Fuck no,” says Bakugou instantly, remembering the time when he almost broke the steering wheel last time. “And don’t you dare follow up with Dance Dance Revolution, shitty hair.”
“Okay, alright, how about basketball? Whoever loses has to get a present from the other.” Fuckin’ shitty hair… he knew how much he hated receiving gifts. He would win this. He had to, otherwise who knew what would happen. Kirishima had squirmed his way into his cold, blasty heart and he was paying for it.
Kirishima inserts a few coins into the machine and it starts up. He begins to frantically grab at the basketballs, throwing them at the net hazardously yet precisely. Bakugou watches in amusement when the timer signalling the end of his turn beeps. The explosive teen steps up, glaring at his score.
Pfft, he thinks, digging around in his pocket for the change. Easy to beat.
But as he plays, some warm feeling encompasses him, swirling around in his chest. He falters. He’s one point away from beating that fucking shark, but… he couldn’t. For some reason he was locked in position, and when the timer went off he didn’t feel upset or anything, he just felt like he was sizzling over.
“Dude, are you sure you’re okay?” Kirishima asks. “You look like you have a lot on your mind.”
Bakugou doesn’t respond, feigning nonchalance. Really, he does. He can’t stop thinking about why he just stopped, then and before. The way Kirishima’s eyes had lit up, just slightly, at the small victories was way too endearing, and he didn’t know what to make of it.
“Uh, yeah, shitty hair.” Bakugou shakes his head in an attempt to clear it, choosing to ignore the confusing thoughts for now. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Kirishima nods, sensing that there’s more at play but not wanting to dig. “Follow me, then.”
Kirishima leads Bakugou through crowds of shouting kids and scrambling parents, and they emerge in front of a claw machine. Bakugou narrows his eyes, looking between a beaming Kirishima and the machine.
“You better fuckin’ not,” he threatens, but there’s no real bite. Kirishima waves him off, grinning as he scours what’s inside, inserting the coins. Bakugou watches him struggle for a second to steer it, but he quickly gets the hang of it. He lowers the claw towards a stuffed toy, squinting in concentration once more. The claw grabs hold of the toy, but Bakugou isn’t really paying attention, instead just watching Kirishima’s face morph into delight and the claw dispenses it.
Kirishima grabs it, presenting it to Bakugou almost shyly. The lights in the arcade feel brighter, spinning like Bakugou’s mind. Shakily, he reaches out, taking it. Closer up he can now see it’s some sort of dog with an angry-looking expression, and he bites back a jeer, clutching the toy to his chest. No one ever got him presents. No one ever cared enough to want to.
“Well?” Kirishima prompts. “It’s a pomeranian. It reminded me of you.”
“I l-” Bakugou looks up to meet his gaze. “Yeah, I like it. Thank you,” he adds, hoping desperately the flashing lights masked his blush. Kirishima starts blabbering about something again as they look for another game with Bakugou just listening quietly, trying to ignore what he’s feeling because it certainly isn’t normal and he certainly doesn’t want to sort it out right now.
Later. He’ll think about it later. Right now, he has a score to settle; that red-head isn’t going to beat him at some stupid video game.
“Fuckin’- stop shufflin’ about.”
Kirishima stopped trying to get comfortable in Bakugou’s bed and laid his arms down, defeated. He sighed; weirdly, he just couldn’t get to sleep, and he didn’t dare to look at the clock on the nightstand by him in case it said something ridiculous like 3 AM.
“Sorry,” he whispers, feeling anything louder would be wrong, the silence amplifying any noise he makes. He wriggles one last time, turning to face Bakugou. “Can’t sleep.”
“I can see that,” the other responds, huffing. “What’s wrong? You need a glass of water or somethin’?”
Kirishima smiles, shaking his head. “I’m okay. I’ll just try to fall asleep.” he closes his eyes, but as soon as he does Bakugou flicks his forehead.
“Fuck that, if you can’t sleep don’t force it.” He scratches the back of his neck, sitting up. His blond hair is even spiky-er than normal. “We could, maybe- I don’t know, like, play a board game?”
Yawning, Kirishima sits up as well, brushing his hair with his fingers. He ties it back with a hairband he had on his wrist. “What do you have in mind?” he asks.
“We have a bunch of games downstairs, I’ll just bring a few up,” Bakugou says. “Most of them are lame.”
“Not all of them?” says Kirishima. He never really expected Bakugou to be one for family game night or anything.
Bakugou just flips him off as he opens the door to his bedroom slowly, treading down the landing quietly. Kirishima clicks the lamp on and hugs his knees, waiting. The curtains are drawn closed but a sliver of moonlight squirms its way through, illuminating a line across the ground. He watches it until his eyes begin to create funny shapes. He rubs his eyes. Bakugou walks in. He’s carrying quite a few boxes, and he can see Uno and Monopoly; it looks like Bakugou only chose the most competitive games.
He closes the door with his foot and sits on the floor, placing the games down. Kirishima joins him, sitting cross-legged opposite him, cradling the stuffed animal he had won for Bakugou the other day.
“What do you wanna play first?” he asks.
“You choose, you’re the one who can’t sleep,” Bakugou says.
“Okay.” he taps his chin. “Why not start it off with Uno?”
Bakugou nods, taking the cards out of the pack and shuffling them. He deals them seven cards each. It’s quiet apart from the sound of cards being placed and the occasional ‘fuck you’ from Bakugou as he’s forced to pick up extra cards. As they carry on playing, Kirishima feels his eyelids growing heavier and heavier, his head drooping a little. Fortunately, the game ends with Bakugou winning, shouting uno a little too loudly and then whooping with glee when he places his next card down.
Kirishima just smiles, pats him on the shoulder and says good job.
“You too tired to play now?” Bakugou asks.
“Nah, I’m good. Let’s have a round of Monopoly,” says Kirishima, stifling a yawn. He desperately wants to keep playing, enjoying how quiet and focused Bakugou is. His features look less sharp and pointed, softer in the warm glow of the lamp and without a frown. He looks content, finally, and Kirishima feels a small sense of triumph. He can make Bakugou smile, even if just a little.
They set up and play, Kirishima choosing the dog and Bakugou (quite obviously) playing as the sportscar. The game is pretty slow to begin with, but as soon as Kirishima starts to feel bad about his neighbourhoods being house-less and Bakugou starts to get a little unlucky with his rolls, it begins to pick up the pace, and only a half-hour later Kirishima is swimming in (Monopoly) cash.
“This blows,” Bakugou says, swiping at his pile of fifties to pay Kirishima.
“You’re only saying that because you’re losing,” said redhead replies. “But I’m happy to stop if you want.”
“No way! I’m not a wimp, shit-face. I’m gonna win this, you watch.” And with that Bakugou sets a frown on his face, eyes blazing his determination. Kirishima had only spurred him on. They try to keep playing, but Kirishima is practically asleep already.
“Hey, bro, let’s call it a finish. You won,” he says, pointing to Bakugou’s slightly higher stack of cash.
Bakugou sighs but doesn’t complain. “Alright. I’ll pack up.”
Kirishima nods gratefully. He crawls back under the All Might Covers, his eyes focusing and unfocusing on the bright yellow hair before the light goes out and suddenly Bakugou is there. Sleepily, he reaches out to wrap an arm around the blond and snuggle up against his chest. He feels him jolt at the sudden touch but slowly melt into it. Kirishima’s hand twitches; he desperately wants to reach up and comb his fingers through Bakugou’s hair, but he doesn’t want to scare him off. So instead he just watches the moonlight that’s streaking across the walls and listens to the cicadas chirping away into the night before he dozes off.
It’s only when Kirishima wakes up does he realize what had happened and he starts to silently panic; what’s this weird warm feeling in his chest? What are butterflies doing in his stomach? Why is Bakugou letting him hug him and be in such close proximity?
Said boy shifts in his sleep, and Kirishima holds his breath.
How is he going to survive?
The waves lap at the shoreline, hypnotizing, the icy blue only made brighter by the rays of the sun as it sets. The sand between Bakugou fingers is warm. He brings a fist up to watch as it falls from his hand. It slips out of his grasp easily and he reaches for another handful, repeating the motion. The feeling is almost calming.
“What are you thinking about?” Kirishima asks, watching him. Bakugou shrugs, turning to look at him. His hair is down, and Bakugou thinks it’s cute the way he has to blow it out of his eyes when the wind picks up.
“Nothin’ interesting,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Too tired to make the effort.”
“I get it, man.”
They continue to sit in silence before Bakugou notices Kirishima starting to fidget. He suppresses a smile as he spies him arranging seashells into a wonky smiley face. He then clears his throat pointedly.
“You wanna go for a walk?” Bakugou asks.
“Yeah, sure.”
They stand, shaking the sand of their clothes before beginning their stroll, walking close to the waves so the water occasionally grabs at their feet, biting cold. They don’t talk, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable. Bakugou suddenly gets the urge to reach out and grab Kirishima’s hand, but he fights it. That would just be a weird thing to do. Still, the thought won’t leave his mind. Kirishima’s hand swings freely by his side, right there . If he just reached out-
“Dude,” Kirishima calls. “You good?”
Bakugou starts, realizing he had just stopped walking. He closes his eyes for a second, sighing, before catching up with Kirishima.
“Yeah, I’m-” He falters. Did he just-?
Kirishima was holding his hand. His scarred, sweaty hand that could blow up at any moment. He swallows, trying to catch Kirishima’s gaze but the red-head is looking away, avoiding eye-contact. He decides to just leave it, instead enjoying the warmth from Kirishima’s hand and looking at the sunset, his free hand shielding his eyes from the bright glow. There were barely any people on the beach, so it was peaceful.
They walked for quite some time before turning around. The night was almost upon them, evident in the fact that the wing had picked up slightly and the moon began to show itself. They continued in contemplative quiet before Kirishima took a breath.
“Hey man, I don’t-” he says, pausing. “I don’t wanna sound cheesy or whatever but like...I’m really glad we met.”
Bakugou wasn’t expecting that. I mean, sure, he agreed, but-
“Where did that come from?” he voices aloud, frown on his face. “You aren’t dying or some crap are you, shitty hair?”
Kirishima laughed, shaking his head quickly. “No no no, I just… wanted to let you know. If not now, when, right?”
Bakugou didn’t have a reply. He didn’t really understand what he was thinking but that was normal; his thoughts were always against him in one way or another. He hated to talk about feelings and he sucked at giving advice or even responding to anything emotional at all, just blocked it out to deal with later.
So, once more, he promised himself to deal with it later.
It was quiet.
Bakugou and Kirishima were lying down on a red and white checkered blanket, bathing in the light. Kirishima was slowly carding his hand through the other boy’s ashen hair, humming gently. There was a soft breeze.
They had decided to go on a stroll through the meadow nearby and have a picnic (after Mitsuki had suggested it), and Kirishima was extremely pleased that Bakugou had-- begrudgingly --come along. They had already eaten, especially thankful that Mitsuki had packed cold drinks.
The wind picked up again, ruffling Kirishima’s hair. He had it down today since he didn’t feel like taking the time to do it up. He shifted, leaning on his side with his elbow, hair framing his face. He grinned down at Bakugou who slowly opened one eye. The crimson was amplified in the sunlight.
“Why did you stop?” he asks, frown forming.
“Oh!” Kirishima continues running his hand through Bakugou’s hair. “Sorry.”
He was like a cat. An angry, blasty cat who had a somewhat wide vocabulary of swears.
It was a perfect day, and Kirishima was storing away these moments preciously. There were few times when Bakugou let himself be this calm and quiet, but lately he had been doing it more. It was nice.
The sun was suddenly covered up by a cloud and Kirishima shivered, realising it was a little cold without the sunlight beating down on him. Bakugou shook himself out of Kirishima’s hold and lifted his grey hoodie over his head, leaving him in a plain black t-shirt. He passed it to the other boy.
“Idiot. Here,” he said, averting his gaze. There was a light dusting of pink over his cheeks. Kirishima grinned brightly, putting it on with joy. Sure, he stole Bakugou’s clothes all the time but when they were given to him it was definitely a lot nicer. The hoodie was soft and he wrapped his arms around himself.
“Thanks, baku-bro!” he exclaimed. He was genuinely touched.
Bakugou glared at him. “I told you to not call me that.”
“Well, okay,” Kirishima said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “How about… angel face?”
Bakugou recoiled, hands up in alarm. “What the fuck?”
Laughing, Kirishima continued to list off more names, each time getting more delightfully annoyed faces.
“Precious?”
“I’m not a dog, moron!”
“Snookums?”
“Shut the fuck up!”
“Mon amour?”
“Since when do you know french?”
“Mr. muscles?”
“That warrants no response other than fuck off.”
Kirishima jumps up suddenly, pointing down at Bakugou with glee, a shit-eating grin on his face. “ Blasty boy! ”
Bakugou growls, lunging at the other boy who was currently cackling loudly. He grabs his legs and drags him to the ground, pinning his wrists down, but Kirishima wasn’t going down easily. He thrashed around, throwing the blond off. They continued like this for a few minutes, laughing and red-faced, when it ended with Kirishima straddling Bakugou, holding him down.
“Got you now,” he pants, chuckling. “And as the prize for winning, I get to call you any name I want, whenever I-”
“Nope, nope, nope,” Bakugou interrupted, trying to wriggle free. “Get off me! You’re like a sack of fuckin’ bricks!”
“Luckily for you, I have the perfect name,” the red-head shouts over his complaints. “Try this on for size: sweetheart.”
“That’s.” Bakugou stills, catching his breath. “That’s basic as shit.”
“Would you expect anything less from me?” Kirishima says. He leans down, lips brushing the other boy’s ear as he whispers, “sweetheart.” Bakugou shivers, and Kirishima decides to be brave. He gives Bakugou a quick peck on his cheek before clambering off and offering him a hand, blushing a little.
“I don’t need…” Bakugou falters. Slowly, he meets Kirishima’s gaze, red eyes like lava, burning through Kirishima’s mind. He pauses before carefully taking the outstretched hand, pulling himself up.
“Thanks,” he mutters as he dusts himself off. He changes the topic quickly, clearing his throat. “I- We should pack up; the sun’s setting.”
And oh, shit, it is. Kirishima hadn’t realized how long they had spent outside.
He helps Bakugou tidy up their things, placing the empty bottles and tupperware into a tote bag which Kirishima slings over his shoulder.
The sun was sending an orange glow around the meadow, tall grass dipped into gold. He watches Bakugou fold the blanket, his body dripping with honey. Kirishima looked towards the sunset, shielding his eyes. Beautiful. Both his perfect friend and the evening sky.
So they set off at a leisurely pace back to Bakugou’s house, Kirishima grabbing hold of the other’s hand almost immediately. He sighs happily. Today was a good day
The next time they decided to go for another walk was only a week later when the weather had warmed up even more.
It was dark, and the moon hung low in the sky, carefully placed next to dim stars. Nowhere near as bright as Eijirou’s smile , Bakugou thinks to himself smugly.
Oh, shit. Eijirou? Where did that come from? Were they close enough for that?
He’s your best friend, idiot, the blond scolds himself. That’s pretty damn close.
Nonetheless, it bothered him. He couldn’t stop thinking about it while they were walking. Damn shitty hair kept looking over to him and worrying his lip.
“Is something bugging you?” he finally asked, and Bakugou furrowed his brows.
“No, fuck off,” was his sour reply. Kirishima’s anxious face didn’t let up though, and Bakugou felt a little bad. He was being an asshole. Again.
Before he could explain, Kirishima perked up and pointed to something in the middle of the field. Bakugou squinted, but couldn’t see anything in the dark.
“Flowers!” Kirishima jumps, letting go of the other boy’s hand to sprint towards them, laughing all the while.
He’s the cutest thing , Bakugou thought before he could stop himself. He followed with a bitter expression. This boy is going to be the death of me.
Kirishima was kneeling down on the grass, picking flowers. There were daisies, irises and dandelions. His hands worked quickly, using his fingernail to make an incision and then threading the next flower through. His tongue was poking out in concentration and his eyes were bright, the moonlight reflecting off the deep red, swirling silver through the ruby. He looks up and meets his gaze, grinning.
Bakugou feels his cheeks warm up and he clears his throat. “Show me.”
And shitty hair just smiles even wider. “Of course, sweetheart.”
Oh shit, the name. He forgot about it until now since Kirishima hadn’t brought it up again since last week and he hoped that it was dark enough to cover up his blushing face.
Kirishima takes a few flowers and shows Bakugou how to do it, and the two boys worked in silence, listening to the quiet of the warm night, the moon making everything look like it’s shimmering, the stars as accompanying fairy lights. It was the complete opposite of a summer day, where everything was awake and buzzing and chattering, birds and insects in harmony to each other. Right now, everything was asleep and it was just them. Just two boys sitting next to each other and breathing, in, out. In, out.
Bakugou is knocked out of his stupor when Kirishima suddenly presents his flower crown, lifting it up to the other boy’s head and placing it on gently. Bakugou freezes, his face centimeters away from Kirishima’s. The red-head smiles sweetly, fixing it a little so it doesn’t fall down. “Pretty,” he says.
“Oh.” Bakugou looks away, embarrassed. “Thanks, Ei- uh, Kirishima.”
“Wait, what was that?” Kirishima asks quickly.
“Nothing.”
“No, say it again. I want to hear you say it.” Kirishima’s voice is stern but soft, and he lifts Bakugou’s chin with his index finger, looking directly into his eyes, everything around them still and soundless. “I- I want to hear you say my name.”
“Okay-” Bakugou swallows. “Thanks, Eijirou.”
He weakly raises his own flower crown as a means of distraction, slightly droopy and a little wonky, some of the flowers having been crushed a little due to frustration.
“Mine looks a lot worse now,” he says, handing it to Kirishima. The other boy takes it carefully, face lighting up. “Thanks, Bakugou!” he puts it on his head delicately, beaming.
Bakugou rubs his arm. “You can call me Katsuki, or whatever.”
Somehow Kirishima’s grin grows even wider. “Thank you, Katsuki. Really.”
Bakugou just grunts in response, too embarrassed to reply properly. They were close. Really close. And over the summer they had gotten even closer, spending more and more time together. Bakugou had been battling with his feelings for a while, but now he was more sure than ever:
He was in love with Kirishima Eijirou, and he hated himself for it.
They were bros! They were friends, and he didn’t want to mess that up. He had never had a proper relationship with someone, a proper friendship . The fact that his stupid brain had to go and make him have fucking feelings was just ridiculous. And to top it all off, he was a boy. Was Kirishima even into guys? No, the question to be asking is whether Kirishima was into guys like him ; loud, rude, obnoxious, just plain assholes. He was a storm cloud and that sharp-toothed dork was the sun, bright as ever.
“Fuck,” Bakugou mutters out loud, thumping himself on the forehead with his fist.
“Hey- hey, what are you-” Kirishima grabs hold of his wrist, pulling his arm away from him. “What- are you okay? What’s wrong?”
Bakugou tried to shake him off, but Kirishima held fast, taking both of Bakugou’s hands into his. Bakugou slumped, looked away. He didn’t have the strength to fight him off.
“Katsuki.” Kirishima paused for emphasis. “You can tell me anything, you know that?”
“Not this,” he says. When he looks up, Kirishima’s eyes are burning through his and he feels like he’s having his mind read. “I don’t think I could ever tell you this.”
“Do I need to say it again?” Kirishima demands, shaking him a little. “You can tell me anything.”
There’s a whirlwind in Bakugou’s mind; what should he do? He’s never felt anything like what he’s feeling right now, and it feels like even if he wanted to say something, anything, he couldn’t. His brain is jammed with too many voices telling him to shut up, to spit it out to just do something-!
Just to shut his brain up he leans forward and presses his lips to Kirishima’s. Just as quickly he pulls away.
“Fuck- shit I’m sorry I-” He stops dead when Kirishima puts a finger up, silencing him.
“Did you mean that?” His voice is shaky, eyes shiny. He sounds so unsure, almost terrified. “Because if this is some kind of joke-”
“It’s not,” Bakugou whispers. ”It’s not.”
“Then-” his eyes light up as he comes to realization. “Wait, Bakugou Katsuki actually likes me?”
“I never-”
“I can’t believe we’ve been so dumb!” Kirishima laughs and Bakugou has to take care not to melt right then and there. “Does this mean you’ll be my boyfriend?”
“I- ugh, yeah, I will,” Bakugou grumbles. Kirishima stands, moonlight framing his face. He extends a hand.
“Don’t make me regret this,” Bakugou adds before taking his hand, this time without hesitation. Kirishima pulls him up, wrapping his arms around the blond’s waist.
“I won’t.” Their faces were centimetres away.
“You know, I really like you.”
“Say what you really mean, shitty hair.”
“Okay, well, I’m pretty sure I love you.”
“Hah? Pretty sure?!” Bakugou shoves him away and stomps off, Kirishima bounding after him. But under his breath, just quiet enough to be heard, he replies.
“I love you too.”