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“Why do you talk to me?”
“Cause I like you.”
“Why?”
“Whadda you mean why?” Kirishima leaned back in his chair and twirled a lollipop around his fingers looking at him incredulously. “Why wouldn’t I like you?”
“I’m blunt, my temper is short and I’m angry all the time, I’m mean to everyone including you, I’m terrible at conversation and even worse at texting. I don’t think before I act, I don’t care about anything but being the best, and my baggage is a mile long. Would you like me to list more?”
Kirishima laughed with his head thrown back, his feet pushing against his desk, bringing him dangerously close to tipping back and spilling all over the floor. “You’re selling yourself short! I think you’re fun and I’m glad we’re friends!”
Katsuki starred as Kirishima stuck his lollipop back in his mouth, still smiling and looking at Katsuki from under his long lashes.
“Friends?”
Kirishima laughed again. “Yeah man, friends.”
Katsuki scowled. “We’re not friends.”
“Sure we are! You help me study, we have eachothers back during combat training, we spar together, once we played mario kart at my house, and I know what your favorite tea is. We’re totally friends!”
Kirishima’s smile was blinding. It was hard to believe anyone could stand in his presence without melting away.
“Tch that hardly counts. I don’t know what your favorite tea is.”
“Green tea with ginger!” Kirishima wasn’t leaning back in his chair anymore. He now had his forearms planted on his desk, bending across the wood and beaming at Katsuki, who was having difficulty knowing where to look.
“Well thats stupid. I’m not gonna remember that shitty tea shitty hair. So it doesn’t count.”
KIrishima's smile didn’t falter. “I guess I’ll just have to remind you then!”
“Like hell you will.”
“Green tea with ginger!”
“What. No I’m not listening, I’m not gonna know what your favorite shitty tea is!”
“Green tea with ginger!”
“Stop it, I don’t want to fucking know this shit!”
“Green tea with--”
“Shut the fuck up!” Katsuki shoved at Kirishima’s face, setting off an explosion. The smoke cleared and Kirishima was laughing and Katsuki hoped the heat in his face wasn’t visible; and if later, when Katsuki sat at home, his parents asleep in their room, he made himself tea just so he would have an excuse not to fall asleep, no one needed to know it was green with ginger.
The night was hot and the air was sticky. The kind of night that would make the most affectionate of couples reluctant to touch or hold hands. For Bakugou Katsuki the heat made his shirt stick to his skin and sweat trail down his arms. The heat and sweat is good. He needs it to keep fighting, the more sweat the better. Holding hands is the furthest thing from his mind. All he can hear is the blood pumping in his ears and the pop of nitroglycerine as he dances around his captures and does his best to stay out of All Mights way.
If he were a lesser man, a man like Deku, Katsuki might have been crying. But Katsuki never cries. It’s beneath him. Crying won't get him out alive.
But at this point it's hard to believe that even if he doesn’t shed a single tear he’ll be able to escape. Katsuki is the best of the best, the strongest of the strong, but he’s still just one sleep deprived kid fighting against a whole group of villains. There’s only so much he can do.
Katsuki won't give up, he never does, giving up is for weaklings, but he’s tired. He’s so tired.
So when the ragtag trio shoots through the sky off of glittering ice like a bunch of thrift store angles, drawing the eyes of all around them, hero and villain alike, Katsuki feels his breath catch in his throat. A hand is extended, a word is shouted and lost in the wind, and Katsuki doesn’t have to think.
Kirishima’s hand is warm and solid. A blessed anchor after being tossed against a craggy cliff by unforgiving waves over and over again for who knows how long.
Even after they touch down to safety Kirishima holds tight to his hand, palms pressed together without room to breath. There’s safety in the gentle squeezes, the twitch of fingers, it’s a reminder that they’re alive and they’re going to stay alive. Katsuki looks back after all is said and done and determines that there is a certain strength in the vulnerability to hold someone.
“I don’t remember and I don’t care what your favorite kind of shitty tea is.” Kirishima looks up from the box he’s unpacking to see Katsuki standing in the doorway of his dorm room, hands shoved deep in his pockets, mouth turned down into a scowl, and eyes pointedly looking away from him.
Kirishima doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he sits back on his heels and flashes a grin. “Uh, ok man. Do you need help unpacking?”
“I don’t fucking need any help shitty hair!” Katsuki spat, eyes darting over to him. “I don’t know your favorite tea and I don’t fucking care!” He looked away again, hesitating. “I don’t know your favorite tea but… I don’t think that fucking matters. Your shitty face is going to keep following me around and bugging me anyways, and I don’t really hate you like I hate everyone else. So I dunno, you can be my fucking friend or whatever.”
Kirishima’s knew he looked stupid with his mouth hanging open, but he REALLY didn’t know what to say to that.
“Well??” Katsuki yells after a minute of Kirishima staring at him.
“Shit man,” Kirishima smiles, covering his face with his hands, “you can’t just say stuff like that out of the blue!”
“Tch.” Katsuki rocks back on his heels, his shoulders relaxing a little as he watches Kirishima blush.
“You really mean it?” Kirishima asks, “we’re friends?”
“Yeah I fucking mean it, when have I ever said shit I don’t mean?”
“Wow,” Kirishima breaths, “You’re so manly.”
Katsuki grunts, but his cheeks heat a little at the praise, and he takes a moment to look around Kirishima’s room. Not much has been set out yet, Kirishima’s things are still mostly tucked away in cardboard boxes, but he’s hung a clock on his wall.
“What. The fuck.” Katsuki stares at it. “Why the fuck do you have that, its tacky as shit. And why is it the first thing you hung up??”
Kirishima laughs. “Come on man, don’t be like that! I think it looks cool!”
“Of course you would fucking think that.”
“It adds to the theme of my room!”
“You have a fucking theme??”
“Yeah! A den of manliness!” KIrishima grins and pounds his fists together in his signature pose.
“Oh my god. I take it back. We’re not friends anymore.”
“What?? No!! Are you telling me our bond is so weak it can be broken over a clock?”
“Not a clock, a room. And yes it can.”
“Bakugouuu!!”
Katsuki smirks and walks out of the room back to his own. “I’ll come over and see it when it’s done idiot.”
Later that night he hears when everyone walks into Kirishima’s room, some complimenting the vibe, others appalled by the setup. He rolls over and tries to go to sleep like he told everyone he would. But he can’t ignore his secret jealousy of no longer being the only one to have seen that shitty clock.
Katsuki doesn’t cry. Crying is for weaklings. But Kirishima cries. And he’s not weak. Kirishima cries as he sits on Katsuki’s bed at two in the morning and holds him in his arms.
“I just need to be reminded that you’re here,” he whispers into the top of Katsuki’s head, words muffled by soft blonde hair, silent tears falling from his eyes. “I need to be reminded that you’re safe.”
“I’m here.” Katsuki whispers back. “I’m here.”
To the knowledge of most people Katsuki doesn’t cry. But Kirishima knows that sometimes when it's dark enough in the early hours of the morning, the time when lips are loose and secrets feel safe enough to escape into waiting ears, Katsuki cries.
Kirishima has a bad day. Katsuki can tell by the way his shoulders slump and his smile doesn’t fully reach his eyes. When classes get out, Kirishima doesn’t make his way to his favorite spot on the couches in the common area, instead he heads to his room and shuts the door.
Katsuki doesn’t really know what to do, he’s never comforted anyone before, it’s not in his nature. He doesn’t know what to do so he finds himself in the kitchen, watching meat simmer in a pan. He chops vegetables and cooks rice and when he’s done he moves it all to a plate, setting his cooking things in the sink to clean later. As he leaves the kitchen he hesitates, before setting the plate down and making one last thing.
A few minutes later he’s kicking at the bottom of Kirishima’s door, his hands full. “Shitty hair, open up, I got shit for you.” Slowly the door cracks open and Kirishima peers out.
“That smells good,” he sniffs. Kirishima hasn’t changed out of his uniform yet, but his shirt is untucked and his tie is missing. He looks tired.
“So can I come in or what idiot?” Kirishima opens the door all the way and steps aside to let Katsuki in, closing it behind him. Katsuki sits and sets the food down and turns to glare at Kirishima. “Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna come eat what I spent time and energy making.”
Kirishima obediently comes and sits across from Katsuki, and pulls the food closer to him as he starts eating. They sit in silence for a while as he eats and Katsuki watches.
“I failed the english test today,” Kirishima quietly says eventually. “Even after all the time you spent helping me study, I still failed. Sometimes I wonder what I’m doing here. How am I supposed to be a hero if I can’t even pass my classes?”
“Idiot.” Kirishima lifted his head to look at Katsuki. “So you failed one test, big deal. It’s not like you’re failing the whole course, and for the record I would never let that fucking happen.”
“But you spent all that time helping me, aren’t you disappointed?”
“You tried your best, that's what counts. Not everyone can be as perfect as me. You’ll do better on the next test.”
Kirishima sniffs and his eyes glisten with unfallen tears. “You’re so manly Bakugou.”
“Tch whatever. It’s no big deal.” Katsuki pushes a cup towards Kirishima. “Drink this.”
Kirishima takes a sip from the cup and his eyes widen. “It’s -- green tea with ginger. I-- you said you didn’t remember what my favorite tea was.”
“I fucking don’t. That’s just a fucking coincedence.” Katsuki crosses his arms and looks away. Out of the corner of his eyes he sees Kirishima smile and take another sip of the tea.
Katsuki still doesn’t really know how to comfort people, but he thinks that Kirishima doesn’t really seem to mind.
The day it happens Katsuki is leaning over the railing of his deck and Kirishima is leaning over his, watching as the sun paints the sky orange and the clouds pink as it sets.
“I think you’re beautiful.”
Katsuki doesn’t answer for a moment. He breathes in deeply, scanning the horizon. “I know,” he says eventually.
“You’re like the sunset. Passionate and bold, and sometimes when I look at you I feel like you’re glowing.”
Katsuki's mouth turns up in a small smile, and he turns his head to look at Kirishima, eyes meeting.
“Can I call you Katsuki?”
Together they stand, bathed in fading light, and Katsuki thinks that if Kirishima says he glows, it’s only because he’s never seen himself.
“Sure Eijiro.”