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Katsuki Bakugo is in love.
In love with Eijiro Kirishima, more precisely. How could he not be? The guy was the sun personified, always so warm and bright even on the coldest, gloomiest rainy days. Eijiro, without a doubt, was the one who knew him the best out of anyone in the entirety of Class A—including Izuku. He was the only one who knew about his nightmares, which wasn’t that much of a surprise considering they’re dorm neighbors, but he was the only one to see them first hand. Katsuki’s balcony door had been broken a few weeks ago and it led to sharing a bed with Eijiro (“letting my best bro sleep on the floor wouldn’t be manly at all!” Chivalrous bastard, Katsuki thinks.) which turns out to be the single worst thing to ever happen to him.
Eijiro has always been special to him. Ever since he found out the redhead had every intention of rescuing him from Kamino all by himself and spent his entire summer’s savings on night vision goggles, there’s been a warm feeling in his chest when he’s around. Especially when they’ve just finished a sparring session and Eijiro throws an arm around go shoulder—it truly makes Katsuki short circuit, wanting to lean into the touch, but he knows the rest of the nosy fuckers in their class wouldn’t stop talking about it if he did. Besides, he doubts Eijiro even likes him back. In fact, Katsuki is sure he doesn’t. Not if the way Eijiro ogles Izuku every chance he gets says anything.
No, Katsuki isn’t jealous. He’s totally normal about the fact that Izuku has somehow wrapped his best friend and crush around his finger too. Katsuki doesn’t care.
He doesn’t.
He definitely doesn’t care when he sees Eijiro blushing whenever Izuku is showing him a funny video on his phone, when he sees Izuku attempting to bake Eijiro’s favorite cookies after passing all of his exams. He definitely doesn’t care when he sees Izuku wearing prototype Red Riot merchandise (Seriously? Izuku got the first batch and not him? Katsuki had planned to gift his prototype merch to Eijiro, but decided to feed into Shoto’s delusion that they’re friends and gifted it to him, instead).
And for a moment, he truly doesn’t care. It’s December third and Katsuki is sitting on his balcony with Eijiro. He’s got a vintage Crimson Riot zip up hanging off his shoulders because his thin sweatshirt wasn’t enough to keep him warm but he didn’t want to stop talking to Eijiro long enough even to just grab a thicker coat or blanket.
“It’s fine, man! You can keep it!” Eijiro tells Katsuki when he tries to return the jacket a few days later, giving him that bright, brilliant smile of his. Maybe Katsuki is becoming as delusional as Half-and-Half, or maybe he was hit harder in the head than he thought by the low life villain he’d encountered a few days ago when he heard Kirishima say, “It looks better on you, anyway.”
And fuck, if it doesn’t give Katsuki the slightest sliver of hope.
Does Eijiro even know how much Katsuki likes him? As a friend? As more than a friend? Surely, he must know. Very few people can get away with scolding Katsuki in front of the entire class, of his idol, and get away with no more than a lighthearted explosion to the face. Hell, he’s even electrocuted Denki on several occasions just to bring a smile to Eijiro’s face when he was going through a rough patch. It worked, even if he did get a scolding from Aizawa.
He’d do it over and over again if it meant seeing Eijiro smile, scoldings be damned.
Sometimes, there’s a sick part of his brain that makes him think Eijiro might return the feelings. Eijiro is touchy, everyone knows this, but sometimes his hand will linger on Katsuki’s shoulder a few seconds longer than necessary, leaving the ghost of his fingertips behind. Or he’ll burst into Katsuki’s room (yet another Eijiro-only privilege) with a bag of takeout from across town after a rough training day. Because why wouldn’t he go get Katsuki’s favorite spicy noodles? He’d do that for anyone.
Anyone being Izuku, too, apparently. No, Katsuki isn’t jealous when he sees takeout for two on the kitchen counter. More specifically, takeout from Izuku’s favorite sushi restaurant. Nor is he jealous when he sees Izuku and Eijiro sitting across from each other, a soft pink blush dusting their cheeks. Izuku is talking away about something he can’t hear, but whatever it is, has Eijiro entranced by him. His eyes are soft and sparkling with pure adoration as he leans against his hand, watching the other boy ramble endlessly. So, that’s why he called off their sparring session.
For a moment, Katsuki wonders if that’s how he looks at Eijiro. He’s never been particularly good at hiding his feelings, after all.
Katsuki decides he isn’t hungry anymore and drops his shoulders, turning to go back to his room. He can’t even blame Eijiro. Katsuki can admit Izuku is cute and has a wonderful personality, and if it weren’t for their history, he’d probably like him too. They’re a lot closer now, but there are still a lot of bumps in their relationship that they need to work through.
Really, Katsuki can’t even be surprised about Izuku and Eijiro’s sudden friendship. It’s only natural that it would happen eventually—they’re both important to him, and the three of them spent far too much time together while Katsuki recovered from the war. From sitting in the waiting room anxiously awaiting any news about Katsuki’s condition, to sitting next to his hospital bed with a hoard of snacks in their pockets they’ve snuck in for him and showing him dumb videos on their phones. He’s sure they bonded a lot over the few weeks he was in a coma, surely talking for hours about former pro heroes and different quirks.
Izuku and Eijiro are like two bright, fiery balls of sunshine. Warm and sweet, always drawing in attention with their presence wherever they are because the world seems to revolve around them. They’re both too selfless for their own good, always putting someone else above themselves.
So yeah, Katsuki isn’t very surprised to overhear Izuku confiding in Shouto and Tenya about his feelings towards Eijiro. If the redhead can wrap someone like Katsuki Bakugo around his finger, then of course he would have Izuku wrapped around his finger, too. Shouto and Tenya encourage him to ask Eijiro out on a date and the thought makes Katsuki sick. But, Izuku shuts the idea down, claiming there’s no way Eijiro would ever like him back. ‘Besides, I think he likes Kacchan, anyway.’ Izuku tells his friends, a sad look in his eyes at the thought of his love interest not returning his feelings.
And Katsuki almost feels bad, because he knows the feeling all too well, if it wasn’t for Eijiro chatting away about the green haired boy every chance he gets.
“Did you see that move Izuku pulled in class today?” Eijiro has a faint blush on his cheeks, eyes sparkling with excitement as he recalls the moment. The use of Izuku’s first name catches his attention—when had they gotten on a first-name basis? (When he hears Izuku affectionately refer to Eijiro as Ei-chan one day, it causes Katsuki to spiral in a way he never thought was possible.) He’d been friends with Eijiro since first year and they’ve just barely gotten to that level, the redhead saying Katsuki with a soft, tender voice, completely unaware of how it destroys the blonde. “It was so manly! I’ll have to ask if he wants to train on Saturday. I wonder if my hardening can withstand that kind of power…”
Saturday—the day they’ve always designated for their own training sessions? Up until this point, Katsuki tried to convince himself that he wasn’t being replaced. That Eijiro ditching him to eat with Izuku’s group instead of the squad was just a one-off thing…every day. That he didn’t hear the late night phone calls on the opposite side of his wall, after Eijiro had told him he was too tired for their nightly gaming sessions. The way the two had inside jokes now, always whispering in hushed giggles. Katsuki doesn’t remind him, instead hunting down IcyHot and forcing him to train together (which was a mistake, he learns, because Half-n-Half is convinced they’re friends. They’re not.).
Yeah, Katsuki was jealous. So fucking what.
And really, Katsuki understands. He can’t be upset. He’s not a good friend, or person. Never being the first to reach out or make plans, not knowing how to comfort Eijiro when he’s in a bad place even though he somehow understands exactly what Katsuki needs. Katsuki has never been good at conversing, so their hangouts are often just Eijiro rambling and him adding his two cents every now and then. And that’s not even to mention his temper, and how Eijiro was almost always the one there to experience it, to be the one to pull Katsuki away from whatever was pissing him off and calming him down.
He knew Eijiro would grow bored eventually and leave him, and quite frankly, Katsuki is surprised it took this long.
They’re sitting on his balcony again when it all comes to a halt, Crimson Riot sweatshirt hanging off Katsuki’s shoulders because it’s spring and it’s cold. They had just finished studying for Ectoplasm’s test, eyes tired from the hours of homework.
“Hey, Katsuki?” Eijiro asks, voice full of honey, like always. But there’s a dash of nervousness that unease’s Katsuki and he fears the worst.
“Hm?”
Next to him, Eijiro shifts. He’s got his knees pulled into his chest, head tilted back as he stares at the sky, eyes shining with the reflection of the sky, face illuminated by the moon. “I have a crush on Izuku.” he says, shoulders tense. He glances at Katsuki,
And—fuck. Katsuki knew that. He’s known that for months now. He might be socially inept, but even he can see the way Eijiro’s face lights up when Izuku is around. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less, doesn’t make his chest hurt any less. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s spent months swooning because Eijiro greeted him with coffee from his favorite cafe, or made sure to play his favorite song whenever they listened to music together. Or that he bought strawberry flavored pocky because he knew it was Katsuki’s favorite even though he preferred chocolate.
Sometimes, he wonders if there was a time Eijiro liked him back and he was too late. Or that maybe he should have confessed like Denki advised him to all those months ago.
“Do you think he’d say yes if I asked him on a date?” Eijiro asks after a long silence, glancing at Katsuki. Maybe he sees the tears lining the blonde’s eyes, maybe he doesn’t. If so, he says nothing.
Katsuki thinks back to the conversation he’d overheard in the kitchen just days ago. Would it be selfish to say no, that Izuku would decline? That maybe there’s someone else for him? (Someone like Katsuki?) Yeah, it would. and as much as Katsuki wants to be selfish, he tells Eijiro to go for it.
Eijiro’s eyes light up and he grins. That beautiful, sharp-toothed grin that Katsuki adores so much. It makes his stomach hurt to think about Eijiro and Izuku on a date together. When it should be him and Eijiro, damn it.
It’s not like he’s ever got a chance with Eijiro anyway. Eijiro is far, far too good for someone like him. He deserves someone who is as sweet as he is, who will be able to love and cherish Ei the way he deserves. The way Katsuki can’t love him, even though he wants to.
(Eijiro calls him two nights later, gushing about the date he had with Izuku. It was successful. Katsuki avoids them both the next day under the guise he’s tired.)
He returns the hoodie the next night, freshly washed and folded at Eijiro’s doorstep. The redhead says nothing.
A few days later, he sees Eijiro and Izuku kissing in the kitchen after everyone else has gone to bed. They pull apart with wide smiles and flushed cheeks, soft giggles filling the otherwise silent room.
Katsuki decides he no longer wants tea and goes back to bed, feeling a new weight on his chest.
The following morning, they announce they’re dating after dinner. They both stand hand-in-hand, blushing furiously as the entire class congratulates them, hurling questions at the new couple. Katsuki takes the distraction as a way to sneak away to the roof, so he can cry on his own, hoping nobody else decides to come up here.
Minutes, maybe hours, pass before he hears the door to the entrance of the roof click and he’s not alone anymore. Katsuki doesn’t move, just staring at the ground below him from where he sits on the ledge. Shouto sits next to him, allowing his shoulders to droop. Katsuki looks over and sees a frown on his face and his eyebrows scrunched together, like he’s upset.
Like Katsuki was in love with Eijiro, Shouto was in love with Izuku. Always buying him small gifts from the convenience store, or offering baked goods that his sister sent home with him with a soft blush and a sparkle in his eyes.
And, of course, leave it to Shouto to point out the obvious, as always. “Bakugo, are you crying?”
A sniffle, and then a weak scoff. Can’t a man be heartbroken in peace? “No, fuck you, I don’t cry.”
“Crying is healthy, Bakugo.” Shouto responds, looking at Katsuki. In the moonlight, he can see dried tear tracks, which makes Katsuki feel some type of way. “It’s okay if you’re hurt. I am too.”
“You really liked Deku, huh?” Katsuki asks, voice gravelly from crying. It was obvious as day to anyone with even half of a brain cell that Shouto had feelings for Izuku ever since the sports festival. Always watching him with a soft smile and a pink blush on his cheeks, his shoulders drawn up around his ears when Izuku talked to him about something random.
Shouto looks away and nods once, kicking his feet. His shoulders sag, back hunched over, a stark difference from his usual perfect posture. “Yes. I do.” He answers. The use of present tense doesn’t go unnoticed by Katsuki, though. “You liked Kirishima, yes?”
Katsuki gnaws on his bottom lip for a second, thinking of how to answer. “Yeah, I do. A whole fuckin’ lot.” he says, using one of his sleeves to run at his face, drying his own tears. “This really fucking sucks.”
“It does,” Shouto agrees.
After that, they just sit in silence, finding comfort in each other’s presence. Shouto lays his head on Katsuki’s shoulder at some point and he doesn’t have it in him to shake the bicolored haired boy off, not when it’s so obvious he needs a friend right now. That they both need a friend right now.
Shouto is the first to break the silence. “Hey Bakugo?”
Something tells Katsuki that Shouto is about to say something stupid, so he just grunts in response, prompting the other boy to continue with whatever bullshit he’s about to spew.
”Does this mean we’re best friends now?”
And Katsuki’s first instinct is to tell him no, to fuck off, that they aren’t even regular friends. But a pair of grey and turquoise eyes are looking up at him through thick lashes still clumped together from when he had cried and he just doesn’t have the heart. He sighs, deciding he can indulge him just this once. “Sure, Halfie. We can be best friends now.”
Shouto smiles, pressing himself further into Katsuki’s side. “Thanks, Katsuki. You’re a good best friend.”
”Fuck out of here with that sappy shit,” Katsuki grumbles, ignoring the blush adorning his cheeks. He chalks it up to the cool air making his face appear flushed, even if he knows the real reason. “Besides, who told you that you could use my given name?”
”Kirishima is your best friend and he calls you Katsuki,” Shouto asks innocently, remembering he always called Izuku by his given name, too. As well as Hanta, they were pretty close as well. “Is that not what best friends do?”
Katsuki sighs.