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The distance from the driver's seat and passenger's seat had never felt so vast before, the center console never so wide.
Out of the corner of Kirishima’s eye, he could see a shock of blond hair, bouncing slightly as Bakugou hummed along to the rock song playing through the car speakers. The noise level had wound down from a half hour ago, when the two of them had been shouting along to the nonsensical lyrics, but if Kirishima focused, the rough timbre of Bakugou’s voice drowned everything else out. He looked out the window, expression shifting from satisfied to pensive to something Kirishima wished he had the heart to ask about.
He wished for a lot of things.
“Midoriya isn't going to stop crying for a week, you know,” the redhead said, breaking the comfortable silence between them. The music was soft enough that he didn't bother turning it down to talk.
“You mean the six days before he follows me there?” Bakugou snorted. “Crybaby.”
“You'll miss him too, for those six days. Can't fool anyone anymore.”
“Whatever. I'll miss the idiots I won't be seeing instantly more.”
Years ago, Kirishima would have never expected his best friend to say those words, no matter how grumbled and embarrassed they were, but Bakugou had changed. They all had; entering the world of pro heroes wasn't just another Tuesday. They had all grown in the two years since they had graduated UA, but Bakugou…well, Kirishima supposed he would always be a little bit biased.
He was proud. He was proud, and he could tell him that—he had told him that—because this Bakugou wouldn't scowl or scream. He’d probably flip him off and snipe back, but he wouldn't be Bakugou without that. If it weren't for the knowledge that once he started blubbering, he would never stop, Kirishima would tell Bakugou everything he felt about him in that very moment.
Even with his eyes locked on the road ahead, Kirishima could see Bakugou turn to him, head cocked and eyebrows arched. “What are you thinking about?”
“You,” he said easily. “What else?”
God, he was toeing a fine line. It was obvious in the way Bakugou ducked his head, letting out an unconvincing scoff and examining the seams of his seat so thoroughly you'd think they were in danger of popping. It wasn't fair. Kirishima knew it, Bakugou knew it. It wasn't fair, and yet he couldn't stop himself.
He had to stop himself.
In the rest of the fifteen minutes it took to reach the airport, it was quiet. There were so many things Kirishima wanted to say. So many things on the tip of his tongue, but he choked them down every time they threatened to spill out like an annoying pipe leak. Bakugou didn't need a half-baked speech, drafted again and again and again and again, each attempt quickly tossed in the garbage. He didn't need Kirishima to fumble over his words, stuttering and stammering and all the ings that would make him look like an idiot.
Bakugou needed his best friend, and like hell was Kirishima going to ruin this monumental moment for him.
As they were pulling off the highway, the blond clucked his tongue, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Jesus,” he muttered. Kirishima glanced over, catching him tapping something out on his phone.
“Everything okay?”
“Phone keeps blowing up. It’s like everyone needs me to be triple sure that I know they're going to miss me. Kaminari and Uraraka are wailing about wanting to be there when I take off.”
“Ah, I knew that would happen. You're a loveable guy, man,” Kirishima grinned, elbowing his friend. “It sucks that this was the only flight you could book.”
Shrugging him away with a poorly concealed smile, Bakugou shrugged. “Travel season sucks ass. Everyone wants to get away from their broken air conditioners and whiny brats.”
“You're gonna be a great hero.”
“Oh, fuck off ,” Bakugou barked, dissolving into surprised laughter as Kirishima cackled. As he turned to tease him some more, Kirishima’s breath caught in his throat. Bakugou was laughing, radiant under the afternoon sun streaming in through the opened moonroof. He held a hand over his mouth, having never quite dropped the habit of covering his mouth when he laughed, and clutched his belly with the other. Kirishima was pretty sure his joke hadn't been that funny, but the sight made his heart swell either way. Everything Bakugou did made him feel fuzzy inside.
“On a serious note, they are going to miss you. Yesterday wasn't enough for anyone.”
Any other flight, and Kirishima would have been just one car in a long procession of people hoping to wave goodbye to the blond. It just so happened that the only available one that would get him to the states on time left in the middle of a Thursday. Bakugou had insisted that his friends not slack off on hero work just for him, so they'd had a huge get-together at Midoriya’s apartment to say goodbye. Mitsuki and Masaru were in Paris for a fashion event, but they promised to drop by and visit Bakugou at his new place. He had protested, but they were well-versed in deciphering when Bakugou’s griping was genuine, and it was obvious to anyone who cared that he desperately wanted them to see it.
Privately, Bakugou had confessed to Kirishima how weird it was going to be living so far away from everybody else. He was grateful that he wasn't alone; with Midoriya set to fly out a week later, they would at least have each other in the midst of such an unfamiliar, daunting place. Looking at him now, you would never think that Bakugou was a livewire of anxiety, but that was part of what Kirishima loved about him. His resolve.
“Are you saying you're not going to miss me?” Bakugou asked wryly. Unable to resist an undignified snort, Kirishima shot his friend an amused look.
“Oh no, you caught me,” he said, entirely deadpan. “I just can't wait for you to get the hell out of here. Whatever will I do now that you know.”
“For one, you could park closer, smartass. I'm not walking there from the opposite end of the parking lot in this heat.”
“I say again; you're gonna be a great hero.”
“One more word out of you and I'm not lifting a finger to help you carry my shit,” Bakugou threatened, as if Kirishima would even mind. His muscles weren't for show, after all. He could probably manage all the bags along with Bakugou on top of them.
After unloading everything from the trunk, Bakugou looked at his watch, lips pressing together at what he saw. “Come on, you big lug,” he called. “We’re running late.”
“Three hours early is not late, Katsuki,” Kirishima reminded him, huffing as he balanced the suitcases in his hands.
“You're lucky you talked me out of four. Get your ass moving.”
“Sir yes sir!”
And then they were walking, with Bakugou double and triple checking his gate number, and Kirishima’s heart growing heavier and heavier with every step. He watched his best friend of five years juggle a number of duffel bags and suitcases and all he could feel was…sad. Kirishima had never thought himself a selfish person, but his tumultuous feelings were making him sick to his stomach. He was so happy for Bakugou, happy that he was making progress in his childhood dream, but Kirishima still kind of hoped he would stay, and that, more than anything, had the redhead averting his eyes when Bakugou turned away from the check-in counter to say something. What kind of friend was he?
“Security’s this way. It's going to be a bitch to get through, but hopefully it won't take too long. Then I can go find my gate.”
‘I’
Right. Security was the farthest Kirishima could go.
“Sounds good,” he said, doing his best to sound cheerful. Bakugou squinted at him, but thankfully didn't dwell too much on it. They shuffled along, shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor. It was everything but quiet; people calling out to their families, parents hurrying along their children, scolding them on how they were taking too long, gates and flight numbers announced over the intercom. Still, Kirishima felt the silence stretching between him and Bakugou like it was a palpable thing.
Bakugou expelled a breath, slowing his stride so that Kirishima could catch up with him and wandering closer. Their arms brushed.
“I've always liked airports,” he said quietly. Kirishima blinked at him, lips parting in surprise at the unexpected information. Undeterred, the blond continued, gesturing with his chin as he spoke. “All these people that have places to be. I always liked seeing business women with their clicking heels and blazers, or those people using the moving walkway for no reason. You want to know what my favorite part was?”
“Please,” Kirishima breathed.
“It’s the sleeping people.”
A surprised laugh escaped him. Wondering what brought this on, Kirishima glanced around, noticing the abundant lack of them in this part of the airport. “Sleeping people?”
“They just always looked so stupid, you know? I was just fucking amazed with how they managed to fall asleep in those uncomfortable ass chairs. Drooling, slumped over, wearing the most god awful clothes I've ever seen.”
“Doesn't really sound like you like ‘em all that much,” Kirishima pointed out.
“Maybe I don't, I don't know. I think I do, though. They're just—I don't know. I'm not making any sense. I don't even know why I'm telling you this.”
“I don't mind. I like hearing about the things you like.”
With a sidelong glance, Bakugou half-shrugged. “Maybe that’s why,” he grunted, and Kirishima beamed.
As they neared security, the two of them slowed their footfalls. It wouldn't do anything in the end. All they were doing was stalling, not quite ready to take the last step over the chasm. Or at least, that was what Bakugou was doing. Kirishima, on the other hand, had no choice but to stay put.
Waiting. Always waiting. All he could do was stop himself from being an anchor around Bakugou's ankle, preventing him from moving forward.
“Do you have to use the restroom?” Kirishima blurted. He cringed, avoiding Bakugou’s unreadable expression as he continued, feet rooted in place. “‘Cause, you should really go before you get on the plane, and I bet the restrooms past security are way more crowded. And—and what if you have to go when you're in the middle of it? It’s best just to—”
“Eiji.”
Heart seizing at the achingly gentle tone of Bakugou’s voice, Kirishima glanced up, vision swimming. “Yeah?” He croaked.
“I don't have to go to the restroom.”
Before he could gather his thoughts enough to respond, Bakugou was knocking their elbows together, leading him off to the side. Dumbly, Kirishima followed, watching the blond dump his bags to the ground with wide eyes until he started emptying Kirishima’s arms as well. “Too much fucking stuff,” Bakugou grumbled. “Dumbass Four-Eyes. I didn't even need half of this shit until he packed it all for me.”
“Kat?” Kirishima asked weakly.
“Sit down, idiot.”
Bakugou slid down the pillar, pulling up his knees and throwing his arms around them. When Kirishima joined him, legs tucked neatly under him, Bakugou dropped his head onto his shoulder, slumping his full body weight against Kirishima.
There was a lull. For a second, the noise of the airport didn't reach his ears. Kirishima couldn't hear anything outside of their little bubble, outside of Bakugou’s huffs of air warming his neck, his shuddering breaths that matched Kirishima’s own.
“Hey, Kat?”
“Mm?”
“I'm so proud of you.”
Bakugou inhaled sharply, abruptly turning his face into Kirishima’s shoulder. “You've only told me a hundred thousand times,” he mumbled.
“And I mean it more every time. You—”
Kirishima cut himself off, letting his head fall back and staring at the ceiling, because how could he possibly articulate himself? There wasn't a way to convey the magnitude of emotions he was feeling. The emotions that had festered for five years, growing stronger in time with their bond.
“I know,” Bakugou whispered. Helplessly, Kirishima turned, nudging at Bakugou’s head with his nose. It wasn't a secret. It had never been a secret, his feelings for the blond. It just had never been the right time. Before either of their careers had really taken off and with the knowledge that at some point, Bakugou would travel abroad, Kirishima hadn't wanted to hold the other back. He hadn't wanted to hold himself back.
And now he could do nothing but want. More than anything, he regretted staying silent, allowing Bakugou to stay silent. Why couldn't they have this?
“You're extraordinary,” Kirishima said softly. “You're incredible. Everything you do inspires me to be better, you know that? You make me better.”
Bakugou sniffed, lifting his head just enough to meet his gaze, two pairs of glassy red eyes finding each other. “Shut up. We’re in public.”
Laughing, Kirishima swiped his thumb under his eye, inhaling sharply to prevent himself from breaking. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Don't be. Ei, I—you—”
“I know,” Kirishima echoed. “You'd never let me forget it.”
They leaned their weight on one another, failing to stifle their crying. To the dozens of passerby parting around them and their pillar, they must have looked like a pair of fools, clutching onto each other like toddlers after their first day of preschool, surrounded by a mountain of luggage. Blindly, Kirishima reached his hand out, relief sagging his shoulders when Bakugou slotted their hands together, holding him tightly.
“Now aren't you glad I got us here early?” He asked lightly, his voice thick. Kirishima’s jaw dropped.
“You planned for this?”
“I plan for everything, Ei, keep up.”
“Goddamn,” Kirishima sighed. He opened his mouth, only to close it again and furrow his eyebrows, running a thumb over Bakugou’s knuckles. There was an itch under his skin. Should he say it? It wasn't like Bakugou didn't know already, but Kirishima wasn't sure if that mattered. “Kat—”
“Not yet,” Bakugou interrupted. “When I come back.”
“What if you can't come home for the holidays?” Kirishima asked, distraught. “What if something happens to you? What if you get hurt and—”
“Eijirou.”
The redhead clamped his mouth shut, eyes darting over Bakugou’s desperate features. He slipped his hand out of Kirishima’s, sliding it up to cup his jaw. Holding his breath, he watched as Bakugou leaned in, nearly going cross-eyed when he brushed their noses together, keeping a careful sliver of distance between their lips.
“Trust me,” Bakugou breathed. “I'll come home to you. I swear I will.”
Overwhelmed, Kirishima threw his arms around Bakugou’s neck, pulling their bodies flush together and burying his head in the soft skin of his neck, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Bakugou carded a hand through his hair, hot tears sliding under Kirishima’s collar. For Bakugou, he reminded himself. This was all he had ever wanted, and for Bakugou, Kirishima could do anything. He could wait as long as it took.
Twenty minutes later, Kirishima was rubbing his tailbone, wincing at the ache from sitting on hard tile for so long. He helped Bakugou balance his bags, now that Kirishima wouldn't be with him to carry them.
“Text me when you get to your gate.”
“Yeah.”
“And when your flight is about to leave.”
“Yup.”
“And then when it lands, and if you can sneak it on the plane, text me then, too.”
“Ei—”
“Don't buy those ‘ I love NYC ’ shirts.”
“Who do you think I am?”
“And tip the waiters!”
“I'm not a monster, Eijirou.”
“Come home for the holidays or I swear I'll come fly to your place and yell at you.”
“I'll be home for all of ‘em. You're not having another birthday without me, either.”
“Don't forget—”
“Eijirou!” Bakugou barked. He shook his head, lip quirking as he patted Kirishima’s cheek, just rough enough for him to feel the fondness in the action. “I got it. Now let go of me or I'll actually be late.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Kirishima stepped back, rocking back on his heels and shoving his hands in his back pockets, pressing his lips firmly together to hide their quivering. Bakugou reached out, swiping his thumb over his bottom lip. Unsuccessful, then, though it didn't look like the blond was doing much better. Even with a red-tinged nose and chapped lips, Bakugou was the most beautiful thing Kirishima had ever seen.
“I'll come home to you,” he said again. “Wait for me, Ei.”
“Always.”
Bakugou turned to go, but before he could so much as take a step, Kirishima tugged him in for another hug, squeezing him once, tightly, before letting go. They pulled back, hands trailing over each other's skin. Lingering touches, lingering looks. Kirishima was struck by the sudden rightness of it all, that he should be the one to see Bakugou off, that he should be the one to look into those bright, burning eyes, brimming with so much emotion that it nearly overflowed.
They waved goodbye until he disappeared around the corner, and it was only then that Kirishima realized his wide grin wasn't a fraud. As heartbroken as he felt, watching Bakugou take that next step in his life filled him with joy. He had come so far, and Kirishima knew he was going to do great things, whether he was by his side or not.
It only should have taken forty-five minutes to get back to his apartment from the airport, but Kirishima didn't make it home until the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. He sat in the airport parking lot, curled up in the backseat and scrolling through his phone for hours. The pictures from that morning hit the hardest. Bakugou, loading his things into the trunk of his car. Grinning at the camera while holding out a middle finger to hide his face. Him taking a selfie of the two of them, taken too quickly for Kirishima to notice, as engrossed in singing along to the music as he was.
Bakugou wasn't going to be there the next day. He wasn't going to be there the day after, either. Not until Kirishima’s birthday in October, a whole four months away, and then Christmas, and then—
And then they would do it all over again. For two years at the minimum, but Bakugou was such a good hero that they would no doubt try and extend his contract as long as they could.
It might be three years. Four, five, even six. Maybe more.
Fuck, Bakugou wasn't going to be there. He had been such a staple in Kirishima’s life—in all of their lives—and he was just…gone. Gone to the other side of the ocean, fourteen thousand kilometers away and then even further beyond.
Kirishima sniffed, wiping harshly at his eyes. With shaking hands, he opened his text thread with Bakugou. His flight had departed a little less than an hour before. Kirishima had stepped out of his car and leaned against the hood, watching the skies for the ten minutes before its scheduled time and the ten minutes after, when it had finally taken off.
Bakugou was somewhere up there.
Looking out the window, maybe watching Kirishima back. Maybe he had his hands pressed against the window—did he even have a window seat?—and was observing the parking lot shrink to a little dot, then the airport, and then all of Japan pass him by.
Knowing full well that Bakugou wouldn't open it until he had landed, Kirishima sent a somewhat blurry selfie of himself hugging the Dynamight keychain he kept in his car, a wobbly smile on his face.
-
‘I'll wait as long as it takes. Stay safe, Kat.’