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It all went to shit in the kitchen.
Bakugou had just gotten back from a run and was fixing himself some lunch when he heard the heavy footsteps making their way closer and closer. He sighed inwardly, already exhausted, and prepared himself.
“Oh,” Kirishima’s surprised voice came from the doorway. “Bakugou. Hi.”
Bakugou stayed silent, itching to turn around when he didn't hear any movement from the other, but forced himself to concentrate on making his lunch. For seven long minutes, Kirishima didn't make a sound. Finally, when he was finished, Bakugou turned, fully expecting the redhead to have left, but instead, he was blocking the doorway with his body, arms crossed and glaring. Usually, Bakugou was all for having every bit of Kirishima’s attention to himself, but right now, he wanted nothing more than to have Mirio’s quirk and be able to just walk through the walls to get out of this conversation.
“It’s rude to not respond when someone greets you,” he pointed out. Bakugou scowled and attempted to shove past him, but Kirishima was immovable.
He was cornered.
“Get out of my way, Shitty Hair,” Bakugou snapped.
“No. We have been through too much for you to just ignore me when you're done with me, Bakugou. And I’m not going to let you throw me aside for no reason. What’s wrong? What did I do?”
“Why can't you just accept that I don't want to talk to you?”
“Oh, I already know you don't want to talk to me, that’s not the point.”
“Fucking hell, move.”
“No.”
Just as Bakugou was about to explode the whole damn kitchen to bits, Kirishima startled and turned around, when Asui’s hand was still up after tapping him. “Excuse me, Kirishima-kun.”
Bakugou took the opportunity to push past him, but he couldn't resist a snide comment. “Yeah,” he said mockingly. “Excuse me, Kirishima-kun.”
Kirishima’s gaze turned even stonier than before, but it seemed luck was on Bakugou’s side. Just as he reached out, presumably to snag Bakugou’s wrist, Deku arrived on the scene, momentarily distracting Kirishima with a greeting. Knowing Deku, those could take a while, so Bakugou was able to escape down the hallway and into the elevator.
Only a couple seconds after Bakugou slammed his room door shut, Kirishima flung it open again, fuming. Bakugou didn't see him in the hallway, so he must have run all the way up four flights of stairs. Fucking idiot. So much for luck being on his side. Bakugou whirled around, palms popping, but the redhead was already hardened.
“Enough,” he snapped. “I’m not leaving, so fucking deal and tell me what’s wrong with you.”
“I don't have to explain myself to you, asshole!” Bakugou snarled. He tried shoving at his chest, but Kirishima refused to budge.
“When you've been ignoring me for a week straight, then yeah, you kind of do, dickhead,” Kirishima retorted.
“Get the fuck out of my room, or I swear to God I’ll kill you.”
“You can’t,” Kirishima scoffed, raising an eyebrow when Bakugou stared at him, speechless. “What? It’s true.”
“You haven't beaten me in a spar in a long time, Shitty Hair, don't get so cocky.”
Kirishima’s gaze hardened. “Stop trying to rile me up, I’m not you. Now tell me what the hell is wrong with you.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me.” Bakugou turned away, throwing himself onto his bed and turning his back to Kirishima, determined to ignore him until he went away. He was lying, of course. There was definitely something wrong with him.
Bakugou Katsuki had gone and fallen in love with Kirishima Eijirou.
What else was there to do other than ignore the other, hoping it all went away before he was revealed? When the butterflies hadn't left, Bakugou had simply kept avoiding him, determined to drive the wedge between them deeper rather than to confront his feelings. It was no use, anyway. Kirishima would never like someone like him, so why pretend there was any other option? After this, he wouldn't even want to be Bakugou’s friend.
Whatever. That’s what he wanted anyway.
Kirishima scoffed and yanked him up in a sitting position by the shoulder, forcing them to glare at each other eye to eye. Bakugou stood, hating how childish he felt when he was sitting, staring up at Kirishima rather than standing on equal footing.
“There are a lot of things wrong with you, Bakugou,” Kirishina snarled, and Bakugou almost flinched. He knew that already, but he hadn't thought Kirishima believed it. Oh well. All the more reason to stay away. “But I want to know why it’s affecting us. Because frankly, I am sick of your mood swings and your temper tantrums and your ignoring me because you don't know how to deal with yourself or your emotions,”
Bakugou stepped back, eyes widening almost imperceptibly, but Kirishima didn't let him put too much distance between the two of them before advancing forward again, eyes flashing.
“Did I do something? I can’t think of what but knowing you, I probably did something that set you off. That doesn’t justify this silent treatment, Bakugou, and I know you know that. It feels so goddamn shitty when you pretend I don't exist, and I’m not letting you do that anymore. Not letting you treat me like that. If you've got something to say, fucking say it, stop running away.”
“I’m not making you stick around,” Bakugou replied, willing his voice to stay steady. “I never asked you to be friends with me. I never forced you to put up with this.”
Kirishima gave him an incredulous look. “Are you fucking kidding me, man? You're ready to throw away three years of friendship because of something I don't even know about?”
“I’m not throwing away anything! You're the fucker who’s sick of my temper tantrums and mood swings, remember? If you're so sick of me, leave!”
“You don't get to do that, Bakugou,” Kirishima growled, and Bakugou agreed. He was being unfair. After all, he had started this, not Kirishima. “You're the one who’s been ignoring me. You're the one who’s ruining this, not me. Use your goddamn words.”
“Stop talking to me like I’m a kid!”
“Stop acting like one! Tell me why you've been acting like an asshole! Tell me what's wrong with you!”
He was angry. Kirishima was really fucking angry with him. Bakugou knew he deserved it, but that didn't make it any better, especially not with his furious self standing less than a foot away from him. The redhead’s eyes were narrowed and his jaw clenched, everything about him making Bakugou want to turn tail and leave, to get out of this room as fast as possible. The realization of how intimidating Kirishima could be when he wanted to be was nearly bone chilling.
“No,” Bakugou managed finally, shaking himself out of his head. This time, he did flinch when Kirishima banged a fist on the wall in frustration, something that didn't go unnoticed. Fuck, Bakugou had fought countless villains before, been in far more dangerous situations, and faced them all with a grin. Why was he getting nervous now, of all times? When he knew Kirishima wouldn't actually hurt him?
“Bakugou?” Kirishima’s voice was strange. Softer, almost. Maybe a little bit scared, though for what reason, Bakugou couldn't say. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Bakugou snapped, not quite meeting his gaze. They stood in silence for a couple seconds while Bakugou tried to control the erratic beating of his heart and the excessive sweat building up in his clenched fists.
“Alright,” Kirishima said slowly. “Can you look at me, then?”
Of course Bakugou could fucking look at him, he wasn't a weakling. When he finally dragged his eyes up to meet Kirishima’s, he had to force himself not to shrink away from his gaze. All of a sudden, he realized why he was so anxious. It wasn't because he thought he was in danger, not really, it was because he knew Kirishima wouldn't leave him alone without an answer. The redhead had always been able to see through Bakugou, which meant the answer had to be honest.
Bakugou couldn't. He just couldn't tell Kirishima.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me,” Kirishima said predictably. “I’m really hurt by the past week, but I’m also worried about you. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
Finally—finally—he stepped back, pulling his phone out and making himself comfortable in Bakugou’s desk chair. The blonde stared at him, open mouthed, before gingerly making his way over to his bed and sitting down. For the second time, he turned his back on Kirishima, curling up on his side and tucking his head as far down as he could. He felt pathetic, but the idea of forcing the words out was enough to convince him that he would rather this humiliation over the other.
I’ve picked my damn poison, Bakugou thought dimly.
A second ago, they had been screaming themselves hoarse, and now, Bakugou was willingly turning his back to an angry Kirishima, who was, for whatever reason, giving him space. Bakugou guessed he was cooling himself down as well, wanting to have an actual conversation rather than a screaming match where they both said things they would regret later. That was no good for Bakugou; screaming matches were what he was best at.
He couldn't say for how long they sat in utter silence, each waiting for the other one to make the first move, before Bakugou slowly turned his head, only to find Kirishima staring at him over his phone screen. He raised an eyebrow in a silent question, one that Bakugou answered by quickly turning his head away again, preparing himself for the inevitable scoff of disgust or annoyance, maybe both. Instead, he was met with silence. No judgemental sounds from Kirishima, just the promise that Bakugou really could take as long as he needed, because Kirishima would be here. Even angry, even after being ignored, even after a fight, Kirishima was kind. He wasn't happy, but he wasn't trying to make Bakugou feel shitty either.
He was good. He was Kirishima.
There were sounds of laughter from outside, probably headed to Ashido or Uaraka’s room, and Bakugou tensed. He heard the sound of his lock clicking softly, and that was that.
After so long, Bakugou began running through what he would say. His words, his tone, his expressions. Kirishima’s words, tone, and expressions. How he would react after the rejection. How he would react after watching the love of his life date someone else, care about someone else, love someone else. He wondered if Kirishima would understand, after Bakugou told him. Wondered if it mattered. Maybe Kirishima would drop him right here and now, or let him down slowly, pulling further away from him day by day until they were just worn out memories in each other’s minds.
If Bakugou was someone like Deku or Kaminari or Uraraka or Ashido, he wouldn't have this problem. Wouldn't feel this utter hopelessness. His friends—it had only taken fourteen years to admit to Deku being his friend, but he was—were kind. They were everything Kirishima could want, and he was bound to end up with one of them soon. Bakugou knew he could never be that for someone. Never be the person they came home to, excited to see after a long day of work, smiling at him because they loved him. Memories of Kirishima grinning and throwing an arm over his shoulder flashed through his mind, but that was almost worse. Sure, he cared, but he cared about everyone.
Bakugou was nothing special. He never would be.
“Dude? What’s wrong?”
Bakugou jumped, startled out of his thoughts by Kirishima’s worried voice hovering way closer to him than he should be. He raised his head, and only then did he realize that there were tears streaming down his cheeks, and heard the little cries he had been making. How long had he been crying for? Probably not long, if Kirishima was only just asking him what was wrong. The redhead was leaning over him, chewing on his lip anxiously, all traces of his previous anger gone. Bakugou didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve him.
“I really need you to answer me, man, you're scaring me.”
“I’m fine,” Bakugou croaked. He attempted to hide his face in his arms again, but Kirishima gently sat him upright, thumbing away the tears on his cheeks in the process. For just a second, Bakugou let himself lean into the touch, eyelids fluttering closed before he realized what he was doing and jerked away, flushing red. He half expected Kirishima to start bombarding him with questions, but he stayed quiet, not breaking his promise to be here for as long as it took. The thought caused a new wave of tears to course down Bakugou’s face and the frown lines on Kirishima’s to deepen. He pursed his lips, obviously having a hard time keeping quiet, but he refused to slip up. Bakugou wished he could communicate everything he was feeling without speaking, somehow show Kirishima the magnitude of his emotions without putting words to them.
Just as Kirishima was about to step away, presumably to give him some space, Bakugou seized his wrist in a silent plea.
Don't go.
He knew that meant he had to talk soon, it wasn't fair to Kirishima otherwise, but he wanted to be near him one last time. Selfish.
“I’m here,” Kirishima assured him. Bakugou tugged on his sweatshirt sleeve lightly until they were sitting side by side on the edge of the bed. He didn't look at Kirishima, but he knew the redhead wasn't looking at him either. His grip on Kirishima’s wrist didn't loosen.
“You didn't scare me,” Bakugou said finally, because he felt like it needed to be said. Immediately, Kirishima’s head whipped towards him, confusion painted over his features. “When you were yelling at me. That’s not why—you didn't do anything. I know you're thinking about it, but you don't have to.”
“Okay,” Kirishima replied after a moment. “I thought you were afraid of me,” he confessed. “That was—I can't remember ever feeling so disgusted with myself. I felt sick.”
“Didn't mean to—”
“You didn't,” Kirishima interrupted. “That was my fault. I got too worked up.” Neither of them said anything after that, lapsing back into silence, but eventually, Kirishima sighed lightly. “Kami wants us down in the common room in an hour. Just letting you know.”
“How long has it been?” Bakugou asked, throat dry.
“Forty minutes.”
“Oh, fuck,” he mumbled.
“I said I’d wait until you were ready. I meant it.”
God, he really didn't deserve him. He knew Kirishima was somehow apologetic about the new hour-long deadline, as if he hadn't given Bakugou what should have been more than enough time to sort his shit.
He also knew he wasn't forgiven. Not yet. Kirishima was kind, but he wouldn't let Bakugou get away with treating him like shit without an explanation.
And he was getting one. Bakugou was sick of dancing around this, sick of putting both of them through more pain just because he was being a coward. Kirishima wouldn't abandon him for something like this, even if he didn't feel the same way, even if he was weirded out, he wasn't that kind of person. Bakugou had nothing to fear, really.
Except for the rejection.
But he could get past that. He needed to do this. Preferably within the next hour.
“Uh…Bakugou? You alright, dude? You're kinda crushing my wrist,” Kirishima said, interrupting his thoughts. Bakugou glanced down at their hands. He took note of his white-knuckled grip and forced himself to unclench his hand, very carefully removing it from Kirishima’s and bringing it to his own lap silently.
“Okay,” he said softly, and then again, louder. “Okay. Fuck, okay.” Bakugou closed his eyes shut tightly, sighing heavily through his nose, and turned his body away from Kirishima’s. “I’m talking, so you better fucking be listening.”
“You're going to talk like that?”
“Yeah, I know it’s not fucking manly or whatever but I physically cannot look at your face right now.”
“Harsh, but okay.”
Kirishima was good at disguising his moods, and if Bakugou knew him any less, he wouldn't have been able to pick up on the slight hurt in his tone, but he didn't know him any less, he knew him like the back of his own damn hand.
“Fuck,” he hissed. “That’s not what I meant. It’s not you, alright? Well, it is you, but you didn't do anything, so fuck off with that dumb voice.”
“This is a really shitty apology, I hope you're aware of that.” Thankfully, he was teasing now, but Bakugou was over it anyway. He huffed in annoyance and turned back around.
“Fine,” he snapped. “I’m restarting.” He fixed his gaze on his hands, still in his lap, but at least they were facing each other now. “I’d prefer it if you kept your noises of surprise to yourself for the duration of my fucking speech because I would really rather run all the way to America than sit here and talk, and the only reason I’m talking in the first place is because you wont fucking leave me alone unless I do, so the least you could do is shut up.”
There was a pause, and then Kirishima laughed lightly. “You can take some more time if you really want to, man.”
“No. Shut up.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Bakugou could see Kirishima mime zipping his lips shut, and couldn't stop his lip from quirking up just slightly. Until he remembered what he was about to say, which wiped any semblance of a smile from his face instantly.
“I’m listening,” Kirishima whispered, and Bakugou didn't even yell at him for talking after his little display. He simply nodded once and took a deep breath.
“I’m pretty sure you've known how shit I am with emotions from the day you met me, so I’ll skip that part. Wait, fuck—I don't think I can, because that’s the entire reason I’ve been acting so shitty lately. Yeah, I ignored you on purpose. No, it’s nothing you did. Yeah, I feel like a dick. Yeah, it was because of you. I already know that your little pea-brain is confused, but yes, it’s because of you even though you did nothing wrong. You're just—you’re Kirishima. You're Shitty Hair. You're Unbreakable. You're Red Riot. And—holy fuck, this is awful. This was supposed to be an apology, not my fucking con—anyway.”
Bakugou stumbled over his words, heart rate speeding at his slip-up, but he kept going, because he wasn't done. Like hell was he letting himself get away with such a half-assed apology. It hardly counted as an apology in the first place, he hadn't even said the words I’m sorry. He knew that neither he or Kirishima would accept it if he didn't say them.
“I’m really sorry for treating you like shit. It was a dick move and you didn't deserve that, and I was just a shitty friend for doing that. A shitty person. I meant what I said earlier, too. I don't really get why you stick around, but you fucking do, and it’s not right for me to act like I don't want you around. Like you're the only one who cares about this friendship."
Fuck, Bakugou couldn't remember the last time he had said so much in one go, but now that he had gotten started, it was impossible to stop.
"Because you're not, I do care about this, and I very much don't want you to just leave, and I shouldn't have said that in the first place. I know you deserve an explanation, and I’m gonna fucking give you one, just give me another second for that, okay? You've already given me more than a couple seconds to get this shit out, but I just—I really need a little more time. Fuck, I didn't think I’d need a whole part one and part two to this shit, but I do, I’m sorry.”
Finally, Bakugou clamped his mouth shut, watching how his fingers moved despite him not telling them to. They twitched slightly in his lap, and if he couldn't feel the heat in his face signifying his flush, they would reveal his nerves to Kirishima anyway. Shit, he hadn't even confessed yet. So much for being worried about not saying the words; two I’m sorry’s in one goddamn apology, that was definitely a record. Usually he left it at zero.
“God, Bakugou, thank you,” Kirishima breathed. Tentatively, rougher hands covered his own, and Bakugou finally looked up. “That means a lot. Really, it does, don't give me that look. I know you, man, and I know how hard that was to get out. If the next thing you want to say will be even harder, you can have all the time you need, I promise. Thank you,” he repeated. He didn't say he forgave Bakugou, not yet, because Bakugou hadn't given him a reason to. He hadn't explained himself.
“Don't thank me for that shit,” Bakugou mumbled. Kirishima smiled softly, squeezing his hands once before letting go and leaning back against the wall, taking his eyes off of Bakugou and waiting patiently. Bakugou already missed the feeling of their intertwined fingers, but he reminded himself that it was for the best. After this next part, Kirishima would be glad that he let go.
Nearly ten minutes passed before Bakugou had somewhat figured out what he wanted to say. He wished he had more time, but despite the fact that there was still over thirty minutes until they had to be downstairs, he had kept Kirishima waiting long enough. It was time, Bakugou knew that. He shifted nervously in his spot, eyes briefly flicking up to Kirishima’s and immediately back down when the other caught his gaze. Fuck. Fuck.
“I like you,” Bakugou whispered. A cold wave of panic washed over his bones as his eyes widened, because that was not how this was supposed to go. He had fucked up. Kirishima’s little gasp was almost inaudible, but Bakugou cringed at it anyway.
He had fucked up, but he had to keep going.
“I really fucking like you, Kirishima. And—and I didn't really know what to do when I realized. That’s why I fucking avoided you. Every time I look at you my heart jumps like a goddamn middle school girl with a crush, and I never thought I would love anyone like this because I never wanted to, it was always about being number one, and if I didn't read those stupid romance mangas I wouldn't know that it was love but everything I feel when I look at you is exactly what those losers say being in love feels like.”
The worst part was, Bakugou couldn't even say it had been a revelation. He had fallen for Kirishima so slowly, so gradually, that he knew it even before he realized it. It didn't even make sense, but it was true. He had known for so long, and yet he had freaked out after finally putting words to the feelings.
“I know that it wasn't okay for me to ignore you but I didn't know what to do and I still don't know what to do and I hate not knowing what to do. I can’t control my own damn heartbeat around you. It’s annoying and uncomfortable and I can’t even be mad because all you did was be your own goddamn self. Eijirou, Shitty Hair, Unbreakable, Red Riot. I’m in love with all of that, all of you. Shit.”
Bakugou pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, forcing himself not to cry. Not again.
“This is probably making you really uncomfortable—”
“Bakugou.”
“—but I couldn't come up with a believable lie in time—”
“Bakugou.”
“—and I didn't really want to because I know it's only been a week but I’m kind of sick of holding this in—”
“Bakugou.”
“—I’ve never felt like this before and honestly I don't think I’ll ever feel like this again—”
“Katsuki!”
Bakugou froze, hands still over his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat, shaking slightly, until Kirishima gently entwined his fingers with Bakugou’s and pulled them away from his face. Eyes still shut tight, Bakugou let him move their hands so that they were resting on the bed between the two of them. For a couple seconds, Kirishima silently rubbed his thumb along Bakugou’s knuckles until he calmed down, breaths gradually evening out.
“Open your eyes, Katsuki,” Kirishima said softly, and oh did hearing him say Bakugou’s name make his heart jump.
“Don't baby me,” Bakugou mumbled. “Don't sugarcoat anything. Just—just tell it to me straight. I’m not weak, I can take it.”
“Look at me.” Somehow, Kirishima’s voice was commanding, despite wavering just a little.
Bakugou looked, and immediately, he started panicking again. Kirishima was crying.
“Oh no, oh fuck, I didn't mean to—”
“Katsuki,” Kirishima interrupted, giving him a watery smile. “You have no idea how happy you make me.”
What?
Again, Bakugou’s mind was filled with the phrase this is not how it’s supposed to go. He made Kirishima happy? Him being in love with Kirishima made him happy? That didn't make sense, unless—
“Oh,” he breathed, the puzzle pieces finally snapping into place, connecting his confession with the look of pure adoration on Kirishima’s face.
“I’m so in love with you.”
“Oh.”
“God, I had no idea what I had done, and then earlier, when we were yelling, I didn't know what to think because usually when you're mad you tell me exactly how I fucked up and I was so confused and everything was so confusing but this—this makes sense. I get it now. I forgive you, Katsuki, and I love you so much.”
Kirishima loved him back. Kirishima loved him.
“You—I didn't even consider this,” Bakugou said lamely. Kirishima let out a wet laugh, but he wasn't even kidding. The possibility that Kirishima wouldn't reject him just…never entered his mind. He had been so prepared for the worst possible outcome that he didn't consider the best. “You're not just…saying this, right? Just to be nice?” Bakugou almost wished he hadn't said anything when Kirishima’s face fell at his words, but he had to know.
“No. No, I promise. I wouldn't do that.”
“I know,” Bakugou replied, exhaling and letting his head drop. “I just couldn't take that chance. I—fuck, I love you too much for that.” He turned away, embarrassed now, of all times, despite already pouring his heart out twice in a row. Kirishima laughed and caught his chin in his hand, tugging gently until Bakugou was looking at him with wide eyes.
“Please don't hide from me,” he whispered. “I have waited too long for this.”
Bakugou flushed at the intimacy of the moment, before the second sentence processed and his eyes widened. “You—really? How long? Why didn't you say anything?”
“Since last year,” Kirishima replied, giving him an unimpressed look. “And have you heard yourself? Always talking about how you thought romance was for losers, you're not exactly an approachable guy about this sort of thing. Besides, I never really thought you would like me back, even if you wanted a relationship. I guess we both got caught up in our heads, huh?”
“Yeah,” Bakugou agreed, eyes flicking down to Kirishima’s lips. “I guess we did.”
With a sudden surge of confidence from Kirishima’s confession, Bakugou leaned forward and captured the redhead’s lips with his own, sighing happily into the kiss as Kirishima wound his arms around Bakugou’s neck in response. He clutched at the back of Kirishima’s hoodie, pulling him practically onto his lap, and deepened the kiss.
The sensors in Bakugou’s brain felt like they were going into overdrive; he could feel the fabric of the sweatshirt under his fingers, Kirishima’s hand threading through his hair, the feel of his tongue swiping across his bottom lip, the heat from Kirishima’s second hand at his nape.
When they finally pulled apart for air, they were panting heavily. A dopey smile stretched across Kirishima’s mouth as they took each other in. Both of their faces were flushed, but Kirishima looked especially wrecked, mostly due to the puffiness of his eyes and redness of his nose.
“I’m sorry,” Bakugou blurted, wincing at his poor timing. “Shit. I mean, I am. For being an asshole the past week.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Kirishima said, cupping his cheek and rubbing a thumb along his cheekbone. “I forgive you. I get now that you were confused, and it must have been really overwhelming. Just…don’t do it again, yeah? I really thought you just didn't want anything to do with me anymore. What with graduation coming up, I figured you might want to cut me off before so that you didn't have to deal with me after.”
Bakugou’s eyes widened as the other smiled sadly. “Jesus fuck, that’s not—God, I’m so goddamn stupid. I love you, Ei. So fucking much.”
“I know. I love you too, Kats. It’s okay now, I promise. Take me on a date and you'll have made it up to me,” he giggled. Bakugou rolled his eyes and leaned forward, giving him a soft peck before pulling back and flicking his forehead.
“Obviously,” he grumbled. “Best fucking date you've ever been on.”
“Ah, I haven't been on very many,” Kirishima replied, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away in embarrassment. “Any at all, actually.”
“Why?” Bakugou asked, cocking his head.
“I was waiting. Stupid, I know, considering that I never thought we would be together, but I waited for you, just in case.”
“I’m glad. I don't think I have to fucking tell you I’ve never been on one either,” Bakugou snorted, hoping to alleviate Kirishima’s nerves. He knew it worked when the redhead beamed at him.
“I know. The whole ‘I’ve never felt like this before and honestly I don't think I’ll ever feel like this again’ kind of clued me in.”
“You're fucking awful,” Bakugou muttered.
“Yeah,” Kirishima agreed. “But you love me.”
“Damn right I do.”
He pulled Bakugou in for another kiss, the pair of them wrapping their arms around each other and letting their hands wander, when a single knock on the door followed by the jiggling of the doorknob interrupted them.
“Why is this locked?” Kaminari called from the hallway. “Bakugou, is Kiri with you? Midoriya said he followed you up here a little bit ago, and—wait, fuck. Oh my god. Oh my god. I’m going, goodbye!” He squeaked. They heard footsteps hastily retreating from the door and looked at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.
“He’s early,” Kirishima noted.
“He’s going to tell the entire goddamn class,” Bakugou groaned, falling back onto the bed. Kirishima joined him in laying down, resting his head on Bakugou’s shoulder and throwing an arm around him, cuddling close.
“Let him,” he mumbled. “Maybe they’ll leave us alone next time.”
“Next time?” Bakugou asked, raising an eyebrow. Kirishima waggled his own suggestively, sending the two of them into another fit of laughter. Kirishima’s eyes didn't leave Bakugou’s face even after they calmed down, and just as he was about to ask what was up with him, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Bakugou’s cheek, silencing him.
“You’re beautiful when you laugh,” he whispered. “You’re beautiful all the time.”
Bakugou covered his hands with his face, attempting to hide the firetruck red coloring, but Kirishima caught his hands with a laugh before he could. “You're so embarrassing, holy fuck.”
“I know. I love you.”
“I love you too.”