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    Summary

    Bakugou had one arm curled into the pillows behind his head and one hand resting on his stomach. That one rose and fell slowly in time with his breathing. Eijiro made note of this while Bakugou slept: the up-and-down movement of his stomach and chest, the quiet sound of his breath filling and exiting his lungs. He looked so relaxed. Even the lines across his brow and around his mouth had diminished, making his face look softer. Younger.

    Sweeter.

    Bakugou was pretty.

    Eijiro wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with this realization.

    He wasn’t sure what to do with any of the nagging thoughts and uninvited feelings that meant Bakugou was more than just a friend to him.

    Eijiro knew there was a reason Bakugou stayed in his room until he went to sleep most nights. He knew there was a reason Bakugou asked to study and spar together, and why Bakugou tagged along for weekend outings only when Eijiro asked him to.

    There’s a reason he looks so relaxed on my bed, Eijiro thought. But maybe his reasons are different than mine.

    Language:
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