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Music. Beats. Loud.
A glass of something in one hand. Someone along his neck. Touch in his hair. Elbows on his shoulders. Holding a hip with his free hand. Heat. Sweat.
He was dancing. Not really paying attention to anything. Everything a bit blurry, each second in the past forgotten. Bodies moving. Head empty. (Almost empty).
-What’s your name? He shouted on top of the music.
She shook her head. It didn’t matter. She went back to his neck. Devouring his skin with her lips. She went back to the jawline, the cheeks. He tipped down to her neck, returned the favour. The hands in his hair gripped tighter. ‘Rikako’ could suit her.
She moved in hopes for what she could not have.
-Not the mouth, he told her.
-Scared you’ll catch something? She replied with a crooked smile.
-This is someone else’s.
She laughed and framed his face with her hands.
-If you really save that mouth of yours for someone, why are you wasting your time with me?
After that, he didn’t really remember much. His phone had died. It was probably time for him to leave anyway. He asked someone, probably that Rikako. A phone lockscreen. It was really late.
He got out. Found the sun tired in a grey Toyota. The sun played a sad Italian song. Held his hair when he puked and said goodnight to him before he collapsed on his bed. He thought about how great kissing him would feel like and then everything was black.
-The fuck you talking about?
His voice wouldn’t function. Something stuck in his throat. His legs in cement. His thoughts racing but never quite fast enough. No words. No reply and Bakugou turns his back to him. And he disappears around the corner of some building. Sounds of laughters. Strangers watching him.
It is sunny but he can’t feel the warmth on his skin. He cannot move, talk, think. It’s like being stuck in jelly and he still wonders how he manages to breathe.
What had he said for Bakugou to talk to him with such hatred, such spite? He doesn’t know. Shame ripples through his veins. Shame for some motive he doesn’t even know of.
And the words ring.
-You’re so fucking stupid I swear.
Night time in his universe. No noise in the cosmos. A dark room and the sound of his own slow breathing is deafening.
There was ruffling from his bedsheets when he pushed the blanket aside. He sat upright. The world became an horizontal place again. He sighted. Passed a hand over his face, in his hair. He was breathing. His head felt about to explode.
It was only a bad dream. A bad dream just like the others before and the ones yet to come.
Still the words rang.
-You’re so fucking stupid I swear.
Just some random silly bad dream. He always had that kind of weirdly agressive bad dreams on a hungover. His head spun. No phone seen nearby. Where in hell had he put it? It had ran out of battery and he probably didn’t think of putting it on charge when coming back home.
Rays of yellowish light were coming from the creaks in his blinds. No need for a clock to know it was far from early. He got up. The world turned. He reached for the door and sluggishly dragged himself to the bathroom. No more painkillers there. Fuck.
-Bakugou? He called in the silent apartment.
A grunt replied from somewhere.
-Did we run out of painkillers?
-It’s on the kitchen table.
He nodded. Then added a small ”hmm” since Bakugou couldn’t see his nodding.
A glass of water, a pill, gulped down in the next minute.
He found his phone on charge on the kitchen counter with Bakugou’s charger. He smiled.
3 in the afternoon. 86% charged.
Jam in the fridge. Fast release sugar to fight the post-drinking hypoglycemia. A spoon going back and forth between the jar and his mouth. 5 minutes and he felt better already.
He found Bakugou in his room, on his bed. The things this vision always did to his stomach was his concern only. He was scrolling on his phone.
-Thanks for the pills and sorry about yesterday.
Bakugou lifted his eyes two seconds before going back to his phone screen. Kirishima still wondered how he always accepted to pick him up at impossible hours of the night.
-It’s alright.
-You could come with me someday. Inside a club I mean.
-To accidentally blow the place up with my sweat? No thanks.
Kirishima grunted slightly, nodded, and left.
He took a shower thinking about some blond dancing in a club. The very picture of it seemed out of place. A bit strange. And still. Maybe confessing to him would be easier in rooms like these. He didn’t know. Lost in thought he realised too late what he was washing his hair with was body wash. Anyway, it didn’t really matter.
-Want to eat something? Bakugou asked later that day.
Kirishima was watching a movie on the sofa.
-Do we have leftovers or something?
He didn’t get any answer other than the sounds of someone cooking.
His head still hurt slightly. He couldn’t quite focus on the screen.
A few minutes later, smells of vegetables filled the room. A couple others and they were eating in the kitchen. The painkillers still on display on the side.
Bakugou looked fabulous in the sunset light.
-Do you ever remember anything from nights like yesterday?
-Like a dotted line. But it depends on what happens really.
Bakugou grunted. He brought his chopsticks to his mouth. Kirishima felt lucky to be the one seeing him everyday like this. It felt stupid. He was only eating. Everybody ate, it was not like some kind of secret kept from the public eye.
-Sorry again about yesterday night.
Bakugou eyed him for a second.
-Did you even know this girl?
A girl? Kirishima laughed and hoped Bakugou hadn’t seen the girl he remembered making out with.
-Is it bad if I ask which girl?
-The one you got out of the club with. She went for a smoke when you left her.
So she did smoke, he had noticed the smell along her cheeks. Kirishima nodded.
-She didn’t tell me her name, I remember that.
Obviously he remembered a bit more than just asking for her name. But that, Bakugou didn’t have to know. He couldn’t know he had made out with her, could he?
-I was wondering what name would suit her at some point. I was thinking of Rikako.
The silence from Bakugou was loud.
-She didn’t ask for my name either, he added.
-Because she knew who you are asshole, your face is on the fucking news every week.
Yeah, well was that his fault really? He was not really working hard on being within the top 50 in Japan. Working often with Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight also didn’t help on making the front pages. (No his official hero name was not this one, yes it was very much an inside joke)
-That was oddly aggressive for some reason, he laughed.
A spark of memory from his bad dream surfaced in his mind.
-You’re so fucking stupid I swear.
A couple of seconds and it was gone when Bakugou spoke again.
-When do your memories stop about yesterday night?
Hadn’t he just told him it was like a dotted line?
-They don’t really stop at a certain point, it’s like blanks here and th— wait.
He stopped. Something was odd. There was something Bakugou wasn’t telling him. What had he done again?
-Did something happen?
Bakugou huffed. He huffed. Like with a smile and half a laugh. There was something.
-Nothing out of the usual.
And with that, he got up and put his dishes in the sink. Fleeing the topic?
Kirishima brought his as well.
-You wash, I dry? He asked.
Bakugou replied in his Bakugou way, not saying a word but getting to work. He opened the tap.
-I remember the Italian song, puking and brushing my teeth, Kirishima continued. I think. Then I woke up.
Bakugou scrubbed the bowls.
-I know you talked to me but the words blend together.
That was not technically a lie, he doesn’t remember having a conversation with Bakugou but there had been conversation for sure. Kirishima wasn’t the silent type when he was drunk and he knew it.
Bakugou grunted once more. Kirishima went for the drawers and cupboards with the clean and dry dishes. Bakugou turned the kitchen ceiling light on.
-What about a movie tonight? Kirishima asked.
He kind of needed some cozy sofa night with Bakugou.
-You’re on evening shift tomorrow right? He added.
-I was more into social media scrolling until I pass out for tonight.
Kirishima was already beyond the kitchen counter, in the living room, aiming for the sofa. He laughed.
-You could do that in front of the TV.
He almost wanted to ask him directly to just sit with him.
He didn’t need to. Bakugou sat there when he was done drying his hands. The kitchen light was shut.
The movie rolled. Kirishima barely paid attention to it. Bakugou kept showing him things and the redhead used every opportunity to snuggle a little closer. The room got dark, the only light being the flickers from the movie. Cozy. It was one of these moments when tomorrow didn’t exist nor matter. This little piece of time in life that felt like it stretches up till forever.
-You said you liked me, Bakugou voiced sleepishly.
Well, that was unexpected.
What the hell was he supposed to reply to this? Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Play it casual, his thoughts screamed, play it casual.
-Fuck, he said. Sorry ‘bout that.
Bakugou nodded. Shit. He had to add something or it would be awkward, he could feel it.
-Hope I was not too exhausting, he continued laughing.
He really meant it.
-You only say that maybe one night out of three, Bakugou huffed.
Bakugou had huffed, it’s alright. He didn’t think about it before he was moving. What should he say after that, again? Brought his hand to his neck to brush off a fictional itch. No care for the movie that was rolling the credits.
-You really don’t remember any of it? Bakugou asked with a quiet voice. No need to speak any louder.
-Nothing, he shook his head.
Trying to dig through his memory led nowhere.
-When did I say that?
-In the lift and in the bathroom.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was bad. That was actually bad.
-Twice?! He hesitantly spoke.
-You were pretty insistant.
Small giggle from Bakugou. Make a wish.
-Damn kill me now, that must’ve been so embarrassing, Kirishima laughed.
Blank for a few seconds. Should he look at Bakugou? At the TV? At his feet? Anywhere else? He felt his face heating up slightly. How embarrassing is it to confess to your best friend slash flatmate slash romantic interest, while drunk, and not remembering any of it the next day?
He had fucked up that’s for sure.
-I told you ‘come back tomorrow if you really mean it’.
Whatever he ended up looking at didn’t matter anymore after there words.
Bakugou seemed confused. A lot. As in, was what he had just said an affirmation or question? Any way, Kirishima took that as an open door.
-What do you mean?
He tried to erase that smile from his face. He failed.
-What the fuck do you think I mean? Bakugou replied, checking his phone as if to escape any eye contact. You were drunk as hell, you say whatever the fuck when you’re drunk.
Kirishima was right about getting talkative when he’s not sober.
-What else did I say? He replied before realising it.
He crossed his arms over his chest.
He might be pushing the door open.
-A lot of things, Bakugou replied.
Bakugou fucking smiled. Out of fondness or mock, that was still to decide. Bakugou barely ever smiled of fondness though.
-Was I embarrassing? He asked quietly.
The ads rolled. The shadows shifting endlessly on Bakugou’s face. How would his facial features feel under his fingers?
-Depends if you meant it or not.
Hope? Was Bakugou blowing the door up and had just created a wider opening than a door frame? Adrenaline in his stomach.
-It’s not midnight yet, Kirishima replied smiling, hope rising.
-It’s not midnight yet, Bakugou echoed.
Kirishima was stuck watching Bakugou. The blond returned his gaze to the TV. What in the mixed signals? What was happening now? No one moved. Where had Bakugou’s eyes gone? Where had everything gone?
Bakugou finally looked at him again. Eyes and eyes and eyes and eyes. Was the moment right to reach out? Was the moment right to move forward? How could Kirishima know? He didn’t know how to formulate anything and the only way he could think of to keep things moving was a ‘do you’ with no sentence. So he spoke it.
-Do you—
He didn’t need to finish it.
Lips collided against lips. Bakugou’s ”stop it” barely heard. Static in his ears. His gripped the blond’s face. An arm held his. A hand under his ear. He moved a leg slightly. Finally. Fucking finally. They touched from head to toe. A tangle of limbs. A collision on an old sofa and it all felt almost too good to be real. The open door had a whole garden beyond it.
Bakugou moved to his jawline. Giggles. To his neck. He gripped the explosive hair. Breathed. It was a hundred times better than with any stranger he could find that was willing to fill this spot. And Bakugou was back to his mouth. And it was rough and disorganised and honestly had they ever been any different? Fuck if he had been waiting for this.
He held back at some point. Holding Bakugou’s face in his hands. Brushing through his bangs. Shadows shifting endlessly. His face felt awesome under his fingers. He breathed heavily. They both did. Eyes and eyes and eyes and eyes.
-I’m not drunk, Kirishima said.
He didn’t even know why he stated something so obvious.
-You better not fucking be, Bakugou replied at the same second, cause else I’ll—
He covered the blond’s mouth with a hand.
-I like you Bakugou.
-Thank you fucking God.
And eyes and eyes again. And lips and lips again. And the ads rolled.