Chapter Text
Campus walks were nothing new to Bakugou and Eijirou. Actually, the latter had convinced Bakugou to stroll around the nooks and crannies of the school as the sun set at least twice a week.
It was very grounding. Whenever either of them seemed a little too strung up on something, or even just when the weather looked nice, Eijirou would skip over to the dorm next to his and smile brightly, asking if Bakugou was up for it.
The answer was always yes.
So, today was nothing different. Eijirou had noticed Bakugou seemed to slouch a little lower during class. Scowling a little harder, talking a little snappier. He decided to head over after school was done and the sky began dusting a beautiful coral.
Knocking three times on the door, he waited. From inside, he could hear shuffles and muttering before the lock clicked and the door was dragged open, revealing an annoyed-looking Bakugou.
“What do you want?”
Eijirou let his happiness shine on his face, “Hey, Bakugou! Did you want to go out tonight? The trees down on the west side of campus just started blooming, I think!”
He watched as Bakugo’s eyes darted around, contemplating, before landing back on Eijirou, “Whatever, Dumb-Hair. Give me a second to get a jacket.”
Eijirou nodded and leaned on the door frame as Bakugou turned, leaving the door cracked open. Something always felt really nice, watching Bakugou move around his room. He had always moved with confidence, whether in the kitchen, on the battlefield, or even in the locker rooms. But in his own space, he moved with comfort. It was oddly endearing, his eyebrows relaxed as he searched through his closet for something to wear, eventually deciding on a large burnt orange hoodie, throwing it over his head and messing up his fluffy hair.
Eijirou smiled wide when he finally came back to the door, pushing the redhead out of his way and turning back to lock it up before shoving his hands in the hoodie pocket and raising an eyebrow, “Gonna stand there and stare all day?”
‘I would if you’d let me,’ is the first thing that flashes through Eijiro’s mind. He shakes the thought away and laughs instead, heading towards the elevator and making small talk as they descend down.
“You said the trees were blooming?” Bakugou grunts. Eijirou beams, he knows Bakugou doesn’t really like small talk and is only doing it because Eijirou has expressed how much he dislikes silence. It is nice knowing Bakugou listens and really cares about how he feels.
“Yeah! Well, actually- I'm not sure,” He states as the elevator doors ding and slide open, revealing a dimly lit common room, “I overheard some third-years saying they were going to eat lunch over there because of the ‘new flowers.’ So I'm like- 60% sure they are.”
Bakugou snorts as he steps out of the elevator. At this time of day, the common room hosts almost their entire class, scattered around the length of the floors and couches, doing all things from playing Uno to studying for their English test next week. Together, they head straight for the front door, stepping over where Kaminari and Shinsou were laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling.
“Kiri!” Kaminari yells, bringing a knee up in a playful attempt to trip him, “Where’re you guys going?”
Eijirou kicks his leg and laughs, “Just on a walk. We’ll be back soon.”
He doesn’t miss the way Kaminari’s smile turns slightly mischievous as he hums, “Alrighty. Wanna watch a movie with the squad when you get back?”
“Sure, dude! I’ll text you if you aren’t still down here when we’re done!” He sends a nod Shinso’s way before turning his attention back to Bakugou when they reach the entrance.
“You gonna join?”
Bakugou only shrugs, pushing open the large wooden doors, face scrunching as a gust of evening wind hits their faces. Eijirou nods and steps out, wrapping his arms tight around his body.
The beginning of their walks were always quiet, and even though Eijirou always said he hated the silence, it remained comfortable with Bakugou. He glances to the side at the boy, who was staring straight ahead at the pink tinted side-walk. He decides to settle his gaze on the sky above them.
The coral had shifted to an ombré of oranges and reds in the time it’d taken them to get down. Clouds were littered in just the right spots, wispy and breaking to let the colors shine through. Despite the sun's presence, low on the horizon, stars could be made out all across the scene. Some glowing brighter than others, making Eijirou distantly wonder if any of them were actually planets.
Their feet carried them the majority of the way through muscle memory. Feet thumping in sync against the concrete, curving when necessary and slowing as the walk progressed. Eventually, Eijirou wanted to hear Bakugo’s voice to complete the picture.
“Hey, Bakugou?”
From his right, Bakugou grunts, still keeping his eyes forward.
Eijirou searches his brain for a question. Anything to get Bakugou to talk in that calm, deep voice that seemed to be reserved specifically for these times. He ends up landing on, “Do you ever think about your future?”
It was a loaded question. Usually he would ask how Bakugo’s day was, or his favorite color, if he’d ever had any pets. Well whatever, they had a long walk anyway.
When Bakugou remained silent, Eijirou decided to think on his own answer.
He had thought about his future. Quite a lot actually. It was hard not to, being in the occupation they were. But to be honest, most of his fantasies never really revolved around his hero work or ranking. It was a factor, of course, but most of the time he liked to hold his chin in his hand and imagine a homey life, filled with comfort and content. Happiness.
Apparently Bakugou had found his response. He rolls his shoulders and straightens his posture slightly, “Doesn’t fucking everyone?”
Eijirou shrugs, not exactly hearing what he’d wanted, “Sure, I guess. But I mean like- specifically.”
Just before they could cross over the small patch of grass, usually a shortcut in their route, Eijirou grabs Bakugo’s elbow and shakes his head, pulling them back onto the sidewalk so they could go the long way. Bakugou didn’t resist. “Specifically?”
“Yeah,” Eijirou confirms, looking for the right explanation, “Like a specific vision of what you want your life to look like when we’re out of here.”
Bakugou thought about that for a little. His eyes lower to his feet, “I guess.”
Eijirou smiles, looking at Bakugou from the corner of his eye, “Really? What’s it look like?”
Bakugo’s nose scrunches uncomfortably, “You first.”
Eijirou was okay with that. He sighs heavily. Out of the many futures he’d conjured up, there was one in particular that was his very favorite. He looks ahead, letting his word filter shut down as he imagines life and lets the words slip from his thoughts, “Well first, I’m a hero.”
“Rank?” Bakugou asks.
Eijiro’s face twists slightly, “Don’t know. I... I never really thought about the numbers.”
He hears a hum of acknowledgment from beside him. Bakugo’s way of showing he was listening and had accepted his answer, “The place I live in is usually the same. This two bedroom apartment, somewhere reserved. Not too fancy, y’know?”
One glance at Bakugou shows that the blonde has shut his eyes. As much as Eijirou wanted to freeze, stop the moment right where they were and memorize every sun spot that dotted his best friend's face, he faced forward and let himself continue, “I really want dalmations. I don’t know why, but they’ve always been my favorite ever since I was little. Two of ‘em. The names change a lot, but there’s one boy and one girl.”
He breathes in deep, letting the cool smell of fresh air and trees circulate through his body, “I wanna train them by whistle tones,” he admits, “It seems kinda impossible but I think it would be so cool. Like no one else would be able to order them around.”
Although Bakugou had stopped talking, Eijirou could feel concentration pulsing off of him. Feel that Bakugou was listening, soaking in every word, “Cats, too. I don’t know how many or a breed or anything but... cats. I want to stay here, also. Here in Musutafu, or at least somewhere close. Where I can visit my moms and family whenever I want.”
He continues like that for a little longer. Safe topics. Mentioning how he wanted to have an agency with some people from their class, and how he wanted to stay close to their friends. How he hoped in their future, all of 2-A would still be in touch. Just when he was going to stop, staying silent for a minute or two, Bakugo’s eyelids fluttered open.
“You’re leaving stuff out,” he says.
Eijirou turns to him, meeting his gaze, “What?”
He’s not going to lie, he is leaving stuff out. But that was for Bakugo’s sake, really.
“Your story. I know for a fact that’s not it.”
Eijiro’s eyebrows pinch, “How do you know?”
Bakugou looks unamused, “Shitty-Hair. I know.”
Eijirou smiles, tight-lipped. As much as he had kind of wanted to avoid going deeper into his fantasies, he was glad Bakugou knew, “Yeah, you’re right.”
“‘Course I am.” Bakugou declares with a smirk.
“Okay, fine. I also want… kids. I want kids, too.”
Bakugou nods as if he was waiting for that confession and he closes his eyes once more. Eijirou thinks that maybe he is picturing his fantasy as he tells it, imagining Eijirou living his dream life. His stomach twists.
“Two, also. I want to adopt. I don’t care about age or any other specifics like that… I just want a family.”
Bakugou speaks up again, “There ya’ go. That’s the sappy shit I was waiting for.”
Eijirou holds in a laugh and shoves Bakugou, “Shut up! This is why I wasn’t going to tell you!”
Bakugo’s own smile sneaks onto his face, “Whatever, idiot. Don’t be fucking self conscience about wanting to be happy.”
And Eijirou kind of wants to take a picture of the sunset and write that quote in a fancy cursive font and hang it up on his mirror.
“Right,” he smiles.
Silence swallows them once more. Their steps slow back down and Eijirou watches as the red-orange of the sky grows darker.
“What, no fuckin’ wife to slow dance in your stupidly domestic kitchen with?” Bakugou quips. Eijirou can tell it’s supposed to be sarcastic, the sound of a smirk present in the boy's voice. But still, his heart stutters a little at the word ‘wife.’
His smile was still there, but it had turned into something more embarrassed than happy. He sighs through his nose and laughs anxiously, “C’mon, Bakugou. You know I don’t want that.”
At least Eijirou hoped he knew. After almost a year of living together, he thought it was quite obvious that he wasn’t the most… heterosexual of the class.
“Oh, bull-shit. You would totally pull that sappy crap. I can see it clear as fucking day.”
Eijirou tried not to let the fact that Bakugou imagined hypothetical-older-him slow dancing make him blush, but it definitely did. He looked away shyly, “Not that, man. I mean… the wife thing,” he said quietly.
Bakugou didn’t speak at first, but Eijirou could feel his eyes burn into the side of his head.
“You’re telling me you wanna be a relatively popular hero in Musutafu, with two dogs, at least one cat, and two children… single?”
Besides the emphasis, Bakugou sounded dumbfounded. As if everything Eijirou had said about his dream life was all believably attainable, except this. And Eijirou would rather curl up into a ball on the floor than have to come out to his best friend who he was also hopelessly in love with, right now.
Yet, the timing seemed perfect. So, he clenches a fist at his side and looks back to the sky, where the stars had become brighter than ever, freckled across the canvas in a way that reminds Eijirou of Bakugo’s sun spots.
“Okay. I want to live in a cozy apartment in Musutafu, working as a hero in at least the top 30, with two dalmations, a cat or so to balance it out, two amazing children to come home to every day, and… and a nice husband to ‘slow dance in my stupidly domestic kitchen with.’”
Despite his mocking tone, Eijirou holds his breath, waiting anxiously for a reaction. Not that he expected a bad one, but he can’t say he wasn’t scared. All he got was a sigh.
Carefully, he let his eyes crawl across the landscape in front of him before looking to Bakugou, hoping something more than a short exhale of air showed as a response in his body language.
Bakugou didn’t look mad, or disgusted, or even happy. He just looked focused. His eyebrows had drawn together and his lips pinched tight, “…Sorry,” he mumbles.
Eijirou cocks his head to the side, “Sorry I’m… gay?”
That seemed to get Bakugou to loosen up. The corner of his mouth quirks up and he turns his head as if to hide it, “No, not sorry your gay, you fucking dumbass. Sorry for assuming you weren’t.”
Oh. That made… a lot more sense. Feeling stupid, Eijirou punches his shoulder, “Oh, no worries, man! I dunno, I just kinda thought I've always been really obvious about it.”
Bakugou hums. Hum. Eijirou likes that word. He likes the sound, too. The way it broke silence in such a comfortable way, expressing exactly what a person wanted to say without the burden of words. The way the vibration from Bakugo’s throat showed his emotions so rawly. Like a couple-second song straight from his thoughts, always keeping Eijirou on his toes, silently wishing for more.
But he didn’t. He absorbed what he was given, letting his mind dissect and analyze the noise to find out exactly what was being said. He held onto it tightly, so that if it ever came to it, he’d never be able to forget what it sounded like.
The silence carried into the night. Eijirou failed to realize that they'd long since passed the blooming trees on the west side of campus and instead, found themselves somewhere far deeper into the school, the buildings hardly visible through the night fog behind them.
Eijirou stops and turns around, slowly. Bakugou follows.
And then, Eijirou thinks, what about Bakugo’s future? That was where the conversation had stemmed in the first place. ‘You first,’ he had said, effectively distracting Eijirou for so long that he’d forgotten why he’d even asked in the first place.
Deciding the comfort of quiet had smoothed the previous density of the conversation, Eijirou asks again, “And your future?”
Bakugou seems closer than he was before. Warmth now washes over Eijiro’s left side since they’d turned around.
“What do you want to know?” He replies, a question to a question.
'Everything,’ Eijirou had wished he had the courage to say, “Whatever you know,” was a good enough alternative.
“Yours is a lot more fucking interesting than mine,” Bakugou grumbles.
Eijirou shrugs, “It doesn’t matter how interesting or how boring it is. It’s yours, and that’s all that matters, right?”
A scoff from his left, “You ever run out of sappy shit to say, Shitty-Hair?”
“Never,” he grins.
“Fine.” Bakugou rolls his shoulders again. Eijirou thinks that maybe he does it to prepare himself, like for a fight, but instead preparing himself to just talk. “I'm the number one hero.”
Eijirou laughs, “Of course you are.”
“Shut up. I’m going to stay in Musutafu, too. I’m going to be the youngest hero to have started my own agency.”
Eijirou nods, that was to be expected. Bakugou starting his own agency had been something he’d talked about on a previous one of their walks.
“I’m going to be the fucking best and no one will ever doubt me.”
The emphasis on the sentence had made it sound like Bakugou was finished. That was it. All his hard work, all his hours of working himself perfect, all for one simple goal.
Eijirou couldn’t help but think that was quite sad.
“Number one hero.” Eijirou repeats, his tone trying to imply that Bakugou was allowed to have more. Was allowed to tell Eijirou if he wanted more.
“Yeah. Told you it was fucking boring.” Bakugou grunts.
No. Eijirou didn’t believe it for one second. People called Bakugou many different things. Brash, mean, aggressive, etc. All of this was relatively true, but there was so much more. Bakugou was driven, and loyal, and most of all: he was passionate.
Eijirou refused to believe that of all the hours Bakugou spent thinking about his future, he was alone through every second. “Tell me more.”
Bakugou huffs, “I warned you it was boring, Dumb-Hair. Don’t act all disappointed and shit.”
“No, I don’t think that’s it.”
“And what would you know?”
“You.”
Bakugou scoffs a laugh, “You barely know me, Kirishima. And even if you did, you’d know that being number one will always be my only goal.”
Eijirou shakes his head stubbornly, face twisting in frustration, “Weren't you the one who just told me you don’t need to be self conscious about wanting to be happy? I think you’re telling the truth, Bakugou, but I think it’s only the truth because you’re not letting yourself believe the future you really imagine is the one you want.”
“Fuck off, Shitty-Hair. You don’t know shit about what I imagine.”
“Oh yeah,” Eijirou raises an eyebrow, feeling his voice grow in volume, “You’re telling me you’re going to have an empty agency. An empty apartment. No keeping in touch with your friends, no visiting your parents, no pets, no fa-”
“So fucking what, if I am?!” Bakugou yells, cutting him off. The sentence echoed through the empty courtyard they had found themselves in. Both of them had paused in their walking, turning to stand face to face as the argument progressed.
Eijirou unclenches a hand to point a finger at Bakugo’s chest, “Why? Why do you insist on being alone all the time?!”
Bakugou rolls his eyes, “Not everyone is extroverted sunshine and fucking rainbows, Kirishima! Maybe I just don’t want the shit you want?! That ever cross your mind?!”
“Of course it has,” he bites out, “Maybe you don’t. Maybe you don’t want that kind of stuff, but I know you don’t want to be alone for the rest of your life, Bakugou! That’s bullshit.”
“It doesn’t matter what I want! You asked what my future looks like when I imagine it. And that’s it. I’m fucking alone and there isn’t a point in dreaming up shit that will never fucking happen!”
That left Eijirou silent. He stood, eyes wide at the implication of what Bakugou was saying.
“What makes you think you don’t deserve to be happy?”
And maybe that was the wrong thing to say. Or maybe it was exactly what Bakugou had been waiting to hear, because Eijirou watches as his anger-contorted face crumbles.
Crumbles into something that looks so hurt.
“I don’t. It doesn’t fucking matter, Kirishima,” he said, flexing his jaw, “You can live your happy fucking life with all your friends and classmates in your comfortable spot on the hero rankings, kids and pets and a husband and all that shit you fucking want. I wasn’t made to keep people happy.”
And it hit Eijirou. This wasn’t about Bakugou thinking he didn’t deserve happiness. At least not completely. This was about Bakugou believing that if he was granted this happiness, a family and friends, he would tear it apart. He was scared that he wasn’t capable of what having a family required.
Before Eijirou could let the mountain of words he wanted to say to comfort Bakugou go, the boy continues, “Answer this then: When you imagine your relationship with your future husband or what-the-fuck-ever, what does it look like?”
Eijirou stammers, looking for an answer. Despite the situation, his face flushes red, because if only Bakugou knew. If only Bakugou knew how many times he’d imagined when he’d get down on one knee at the top of their favorite hiking spot. If only Bakugou knew how he’d imagined the two of them signing up to be foster parents, taking care of a child they could grow to call their own. If only Bakugou knew how many times he’d thought of swaying his best friend in his arms as cheesy love songs played on a speaker beside them, singing along to the lyrics as they dipped and spun until laughter overtook them.
If only Bakugou knew how happy he made Eijirou without even trying.
If only Eijirou had the courage to tell him.
“It doesn’t matter? Why does it matter?” He asks instead, hearing as his voice cracks around the words.
“It matters because it isn’t with fucking me! Ask any one of those fuckers in the dorms right now, anyone in this goddamn school! Nobody would want me as their partner because I’m me!" Tears of frustration seem to glaze Bakugo’s eyes as he steps closer into Eijiro’s space, yelling so loud his throat ran raw.
“Don’t- Don’t fucking say that!” Eijirou screams back. He wants to pull it together, to hold Bakugou and tell him that he would give him any future he wished for, but something was holding him back, “I can name at least one person who’d want you by their side but I know there’s more than that.”
Bakugou scoffs, “Fucking who?”
“W- What,” Eijirou says, confused. God, the words had been spilling out so fast he doesn’t even remember what he’d been saying. He swipes a hand across his face where he was met with tears he hadn’t known were spilling.
“You said you could name one person who’d want to stay by my side,” Bakugou declares, “Who?”
The opportunity was practically shoved in his face. Of all the times Eijirou had hesitated, coming up with excuses in his mind for why he didn’t confess, ‘Oh, there’s other people in the room,’ ‘Bakugou looks like he’s in a bad mood,’ ‘Neither of us are ready,’ ‘He might not even like me back.’ There was none to come up this time.
So, he took one more step, closing what little space they had between them so he couldn’t run from the situation, even if he tried.
“Me.”
Being this close also meant he could see every muscle move in Bakugo’s face. He could see as the last of the red in the sky painted a glowy outline across his figure. He could catch the flash of fire that danced in Bakugo’s eyes. He could watch as the blonde eyebrows rose higher and higher, as his jaw loosened from its flexed state.
“You’re lying.”
Eijirou sniffles, “I don’t lie to you, you know that. I don’t care what awful things you think of yourself, Bakugou, nothing will ever change the fact that it will always be you.”
Bakugou had never been one for words. He was always one for beautiful hums and telling grunts. He was one for hands and touch, saying everything he was thinking without him even realizing. He made bentos for people he deemed friends and he listened attentively to everyone who spoke around him, even if he would never admit it. So Eijirou was perfectly okay when instead of words to follow up his confession, he was met with a hand on the back of his neck and warm lips smashing into his own.
Bakugo’s mouth and hands move against him like they were meant to be there. Hot air warmed his face, an arm snaked around his waist. And only after a few seconds of stunned realization, Eijirou melts. He tilts his head to avoid Bakugo’s nose from rubbing against his and lifts a hand to clutch at the front of his shirt.
He felt his previously frustrated frown transform into a smile as teeth clashed and foreheads bumped. It was amazing, and it was everything Eijirou had ever imagined. He’d imagined the same fire in the pit of his stomach, the same stutter in his heart as Bakugou moved his hand from his neck to his hair, the same light hum as Eijirou pushed Bakugo’s lips open ever so slightly wider than they already were… and the same beautifully heavy breaths as they parted, leaving only their foreheads touching.
All the same, except about a million times better.
Eijirou smiles first. A smile that quickly turns into a scoff, and a scoff that turns into a laugh even faster. He laughs as he wraps his arms tight around Bakugo’s neck and pulls him impossibly closer. Laughs as he feels Bakugo’s smile on the skin of his cheek.
Bakugou is the first to break the silence, words spoken softly into Eijiro’s ear, “It was always you, too, y’know?”
Eijirou pulls back slightly so that he can see Bakugo’s face clearly. It was flushed from exhilaration, lips slightly swollen from the aggression of their kiss, “What?”
“What I wanted. A shitty agency- with you, staying in fucking Musutafu- with you, number one hero…” Bakugou looks him straight in the eyes, glowing with something that makes Eijiro’s heart beat so fast he thinks it might burst, “With you.”
Eijirou lets his smile bleed into something far more intimate, “I’ve never wanted anything more.”
Nothing has ever felt more true to him. The words echo in his head, allowing him to truly bask in their meaning, With you, with you, with you, with you.
After a moment, Bakugo’s half-smile turns stiffer, “Are you fucking sure?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure, Blasty.”
“Good. Because if this means what I fucking think it means, there’s no take-backs.”
Eijirou laughs, loud and watery, “No take-backs needed.”
They look at each other a little longer, eyes darting across each other’s faces while still somehow maintaining eye contact before Eijirou was pulled in for another kiss.
And maybe this wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined his confession going, but as long as it was with Bakugou, did it really matter?
“Hey, Shitty-Hair?”
Eijirou turns, a smile still ever-present on his face. They had stayed out so long that the sun was long gone and the stars were brighter than ever, making it hard to make out the boy next to him. The warmth of their hands intertwined as they walked back to the dorms was the only thing to tell Eijirou that he was still there.
“Really? A heart-felt moment and we’re already back to ‘Shitty-Hair?’” Eijirou laughs.
“Shut up. It’ll change when your hair isn’t shitty,” Bakugou says with no real bite, “What I was trying to fucking say…”
Eijirou squeezes his hand as Bakugou trails off,
“You know,” he says, uncharacteristically hesitant, “you know we’re only 17, right? Like- fucking kids.”
Eijirou nods, holding back a poorly-timed laugh. Their earlier conversation wasn’t meant to unravel the way it did. He didn’t realize that maybe it had been a lot of pressure to throw all that kind of baggage onto Bakugo’s shoulders.
“I know. We don’t have to focus on anything besides graduation, and our happiness,” he assures. The last thing he wants is Bakugou thinking he needs to get down on one knee and adopt children with Eijirou when they are barely into their second-year of high school.
“I’m gonna mess up. A lot, probably,” Bakugou states.
Eijirou swings their hands upwards, “Bakugou, when I said I imagined me by your side, I meant through every fuck up, and every fight, and every embarrassing moment. Everything. Now quite trying to scare me away.”
Bakugou hums and his grip tightens on Eijiro’s hand.
And that’s all Eijirou needed to know that Bakugou felt the same way, too.