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I. In Which Kirishima Eijirou Finds Himself in…a Web Novel?!
Realizing one is inside their favorite web novel can be a shocking thing.
Realizing one is inside their favorite web novel while actively speaking to their bias of the past two-and-a-half years? Slightly more shocking.
Realizing one is inside their favorite web novel while actively speaking to their bias of the past two-and-a-half and now all the memories of one simping for this man are rushing back and now said man has a blade to one’s throat because for some godforsaken reason, he can hear every unholy thought one’s ever had about him?
Downright traumatic and mortifying.
And that’s how Kirishima Eijirou finds himself arrested and tossed in the palace dungeons of one Bakugo Katsuki—the villainous prince of the web novel and the object of all of Eijirou’s affections.
But how did Eijirou end up in the same universe as him?
Sighing, he leans back against the dungeon wall, trying to piece together what happened before he “woke up” talking to Bakugo Katsuki.
As far as he knew, he hadn’t died. At least, there hadn’t been a truck or anything like that to take him out, so was this all some intricate dream?
His stomach grumbled obnoxiously, ruling that out. There was no way he was this hungry in a dream.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and instead of focusing on the questions he couldn’t answer, he directed his attention in compiling what it was he did know.
Starting with none other Bakugo Katsuki himself.
***
“So manly.”
Those had been the first words he’d uttered when he first met Bakugo Katsuki—a loud prince with spiky blond hair and vermillion eyes. Bakugo never shied away from what he wanted, he was abrasive and crude, but he was honest, loyal, and most importantly, strong.
It wasn’t fair that such a character had such a doomed fate. From the moment Bakugo locked eyes on the heroine of the story, on her silky brown tresses and delicate pale skin, he was smitten. He was open with his affections, which put him in direct competition with the hero of the story—a peasant-turned-chosen-one. Since the heroine had also lived her life raised in dismal conditions, she and the hero were set up to understand each other based on trauma that stemmed from being poor.
A prince such as Bakugo Katsuki could never hope to understand the bond between hero and heroine and as such, often ended up making an ass of himself, even when he was trying his best to be nothing but genuine.
In the end, he was betrayed by his best friend’s sister, a woman promised to him since birth, who coveted the heart he’d already given away to the heroine. Devastated by the fact she would never be the object of the prince’s affections, she took the messy love triangle into her own hands and put a final, bloody end to it all.
Even now, the ending of Bakugo Katsuki’s story infuriated Eijirou. How could somebody with no magical prowess, somebody who’d never held a blade in her life, be the one to kill someone so powerful, so easily? It was nothing but trashy writing and Eijirou had spent many sleepless nights whipping up ‘Bakugo x Reader’ fanfics, trying desperately to give his favorite character a semblance of a happy ending. He never wrote Bakugo with the heroine though, he’d never much liked her. She was written to be beautiful and kind, but her kindness was born out of naiveté, and if things weren’t done her way, she cried. Cried. She never tried to fight her own battles, never did anything that would put her in harm’s way without knowing someone would be there to save her.
She was supposed to be endearing and pure, but all Eijirou felt when reading her was annoyance. No, his prince deserved much better than a pretty face who cried when she was told ‘no.’
Eijirou’s brows furrowed together as he tried to piece together what must have been his last night, hands balling into fists as he struggled to piece together what he was doing before he ended up…here.
Nothing but images of his lonely life played on his head in repeat—a college student with extended family who wished he’d died alongside his parents, Eijirou had found Bakugo’s story while casually scrolling through social media and had been blown away ever since. When he wasn’t studying for a degree he wasn’t even sure he wanted, he was reading the novels over and over again, finding online friends in those who also believed his prince deserved better.
In a way, he supposed it didn’t really matter how or why he ended up here.
It wasn’t like anybody real would be missing him back home anyways.
The sound of the dungeon doors opening had him jerking back to reality and he scrambled to his feet as heavy footsteps thudded his way, and oh, there he was, Prince Bakugo Katsuki, with eyes a burning ember, and mouth twisted into his familiar scowl.
God, how Eijirou loved him.
No sooner had those words crossed his mind, than a peculiar expression crossed Bakugo’s face, the prince turning a few shades of red.
Too late, much too late, Eijirou remembered the other part of his predicament.
If his thoughts were at all Bakugo Katsuki related, for some unknown-only-exists-to-mortify-Eijirou reason, the prince could hear them.
Hence why he’d been tossed in here in the first place.
He, well, before it was him, had been chatting with the prince when the memories of his life in the other world had returned and before all he could think about was how he was in the presence of none other than the Bakugo Katsuki and fuck, the man was just as sexy as he appeared on paper and oh, what he wouldn’t do to feel those hands on his body?
Eijirou was more than ready to let his prince kill him because if that was enough for Bakugo to imprison him, then neither of them were going to survive the rest of what lived in Eijirou’s head rent-free.
“What the fuck,” Bakugo growled and oh, Eijirou had bite back a whimper (how could anyone say no to that, shove over, crybaby heroine he’ll give her a real reason to cry when he has his lips wrapped around—nope, shut the fuck up Eijirou, shut up now) at the sound of it. “Is wrong with you?”
“Let me know when you find the answer,” he quipped before he could think better of it.
The prince stared at him, gobsmacked. Eijirou wondered if he was the first to render the prince speechless, and felt a brief surge of pride at the mere thought.
“Would you stop doing that?” Bakugo gritted out, his cheeks matching the red of his eyes.
“I would love to,” Eijirou said, nodding vigorously. “I don’t know how.”
“You didn’t do it before!” Bakugo hissed. “Surely you knew how to…restrain yourself then!”
“There’s a lot I didn’t know before,” he hedged.
Understatement of his fucking life.
“Tell me your name,” the prince barked, suddenly.
Too off-guard to question it, Eijirou gave it.
Bakugo paused and took a step back, assessing him. Eijirou frowned at him, but before he could say anything, the prince continued.
“Are you a witch then?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Eijirou said, with a shake of his head.
“Have you been cursed?”
Eijirou paused as he considered it. A curse would explain why his Bakugo-related thoughts were on blast to the man in question, but it would not explain the reason for him being in Eijirou’s body. Or was it the other way around? Had he been Eijirou back in his world too?
Which one was the fraud? Him or Eijirou?
“Well?” Bakguo asked, hands on his hips and Eijirou had to un-observe that as quickly as possible, before another unholy thought ruined them both.
“I don’t know.”
Bakugo sighed, giving him a wary look-over. “Can you at least try to stop...thinking about me in that manner?”
If Eijirou wasn’t as red as his hair before, he sure was now. “Yeah,” he squeaked, and then promptly covered his face with his hands, unable to look the prince in the eye, shame threatening to consume him whole. “Sorry.”
“It’s…just...you’re gonna be my brother soon,” Bakguo grumbled, and Eijirou peeked out between his fingers. The prince wasn’t looking at him anymore, rather to the side, the tips of his ears pink.
Cute.
Immediately those crimson eyes were back on him and Eijirou closed his fingers right back up. “Sorry! I really can’t help it, I’m sorry! I don’t know why it’s happening either!”
“Just, fucking get a handle on it, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo barked.
“Yup, uh-huh, wait…what did you call me?”
There was only one person Bakugo Katsuki had referred to with that nickname and a sick sort of dread filled Eijirou then.
The prince flashed a snarky grin at him. “What? You haven’t complained about it in years.”
Oh no.
Oh no.
Oh no no no.
“Just, I know you tend to be more affectionate than most, and I’m guessing you’re just feeling a lot of things, with the wedding coming up,” Bakugo sighed, rubbing the back of his head.
“Wedding?” Eijirou croaked. “Who’s?”
Bakugo stared at him like he was an idiot.
And honestly? Fair.
“Mine,” the prince said slowly. “And your sister’s.”
Well.
How did that saying go?
Fuck him with a chainsaw or something like that.
Because that would be a hell of a lot easier than what he was going to have to do.
II. In Which Kirishima Eijirou Finds Himself Committing Familial Treason…For Good Reason!
“What are you doing?”
Eijirou winced at the sound of his sister’s shrill voice and he hastily shoved a leather-bound journal in a discreet inner pocket of his suit jacket before he straightened, facing her from where he stood at her desk.
Ever the villainess, his sister was as cruel as she was plain. Thin lips, thick brows, narrowed brown eyes, pallid skin. Her hands were on her hips, and not even the trending fashions did anything to help her razor-thin figure. Her hair was coiled in a tight bun, if only to hide how limp the strands hung when left loose. But even then, Bakugo had treated her with nothing but courtesy, a politeness that stemmed from being best friends with Eijirou.
Eijirou knew from reading the books that his character, her older brother, had done little to try and discipline his sister, only hoping she would get over it over time. Because the family had nearly lost her and Eijirou’s mother in childbirth, they’d gone out of their way to treat her as if she was divinity herself, and she’d grown up spoiled, selfish, and wicked. And now, Eijirou’s family was on the cusp of losing their title as a dukedom due to both poor financial choices as well as the amount of scandals they had to keep covering about his sister and her cruel treatment of her maids.
Who could blame Bakugo for never seeing her as anything more than a means to save his best friend’s family from falling into ruin?
Eijirou hated his character for that as well—how could he ever ask Bakugo to marry someone as repugnant as his sister and still call him ‘friend’ in the same breath?
“I was looking for a copy of your wedding invitation,” he lied. “Need to send it to the printer.”
“Mother did that weeks ago,” she sniffed. “I knew I couldn’t count on you to do it right, and here you are, proving me right. Were you trying to humiliate me by having none of the guests able to make it in time?”
“Ah,” he said, lamely.
“You’re so stupid,” she sneered. “Honestly, Father should be more grateful he has me, thanks to me, he’s going to be in-laws with the future king.”
And who secured you that position?
Eijirou held his tongue, it would do no good to provoke her further. He got what he came for, and this would hopefully, be one of the last interactions he had with her.
“If I were you, I’d be careful, brother,” she sang as he tried to head for the door.
“What?” he asked, turning back.
A cruel glint entered her soulless eyes. “I am to be queen one day. If you do not hurry up and do something useful with your life, I will find a way to exile you from my life and from this kingdom. I have no need for uselessness.”
He said nothing.
Why should he?
She’d just cemented her own fate.
***
Two Weeks Later
The harsh cobblestone of his family’s estate dug into his knees, the piercing sound of his sister’s wailing and his mother’s weeping echoing throughout the grounds. It hadn’t taken long for his family to be lined up like sitting ducks after his anonymous letter to Bakugo, warning him of his sister’s impending betrayal. That, along with the journal, which was a catalog of all her crimes against both her maidservants and any other young woman who dared to look at his highness in a way Eijirou’s sister deemed ‘traitorous.’ For all the times she called him an idiot, whereas she was the one who went and wrote about it in her diary.
Of course in Eijirou’s letter, he couldn’t exactly say why his sister was going to murder Katsuki, seeing as the heroine wasn’t scheduled to make her grand appearance until the Winter Ball, which was still a handful of months away. But even so, her cruelty was more than enough reason to believe that she could kill her own fiancé out of petty jealousy.
Strong steps walked towards the ruined family, the prince coming to a stop before them, his disappointed scowl heavy on his face. But what pained Eijirou the most, was the look of raw hurt in the prince’s eyes.
He would do anything, to never have to see the prince look like that again.
Bakugo’s head jerked towards him, and Eijirou cursed himself and his traitorous mind.
Sorry Bakugo, he thought, knowing he couldn’t very well say it out loud.
“I loved you all like family,” the prince said, his voice sorrowful.
“Katsuki, please,” Eijirou’s sister whined—whined!—thrusting herself forwards. “We are to be married, I’m to be your queen, so have your guards stop whatever this is, untie me and we can still move on from this!”
Eijirou had to bite back his snort at the look of absolute disgust on the prince’s face.
“No,” Bakugo said, shaking his head. “It is far too late for that.”
“Why are you doing this?” Eijirou’s father demanded. “What have we done to offend you?”
Wordlessly, Bakugo held up the damn journal and Eijirou watched his sister pale and shrink into herself. He looked down, so no one could see the triumphant grin on his face. It didn’t matter if Bakugo killed them here, if Eijirou’s life ended here and he ended back in the other world, because at least he did it. He saved the prince he could only ever write happy endings for from afar, and now, thanks to him, his prince might actually have a shot at the life he deserved.
Giddiness bubbled up inside him and he had to bite his cheek to stop himself from laughing. Take that, he thought vindictively, thinking of every single online battle he’d gotten into, defending Katsuki’s honor like his life depended on it.
Take that, he thought proudly, thinking of all his relatives who told him he’d never grow up to do anything worthwhile with his life. He’d just saved a bloody prince, what had they ever done that could amount to saving a royal bloodline?
“Eijirou!”
Too late, he realized Bakugo had been calling his name and he looked up, startled to see his entire family staring at him.
“Yes?” he asked.
There was an inscrutable expression on his prince’s face and Eijirou frowned. What had he missed? Did Bakugo know it was him who sent the letter? No he wouldn’t have, otherwise he would have confronted Eijirou about it straight away, wouldn’t he? Then, was it the fact he was upset that Eijirou wasn’t paying attention earlier? That had to be it, Bakugo never did like it when people ignored him.
“No, I don’t,” the prince hissed and oh shit, Eijirou felt his shoulders sag as he realized he’d just given himself away.
Bakugo stormed over to him, grabbing him by the collar and half-dragging, half-carrying him away from the rest of his family, plopped Eijirou down next to him as he resumed staring over the rest of Eijirou’s family.
“Take them away,” he said after a moment’s pause.
Eijiirou cringed as his sister started shrieking something awful, and his parents began to roar, first at Katsuki, then to him.
“What did you do?” his mother screamed.
“Traitorous bastard!” his father yelled. “I knew you were a bad omen, I knew that black hair of yours was—“
Warm hands covered his ears as Bakugo blocked out the rest of his father’s cruel words, and Eijirou just stared, unmoving as his family was loaded into a carriage and taken somewhere he’d never see them again. He wondered briefly, if there was a world, a universe, where he did get to keep a family, and viciously, he hoped that if that was the case, then that other him, knew to appreciate what he had.
Numbly, he felt his wrists being freed from their restraints, and he rubbed at the ligature marks, trying to make sense of what just happened.
Then, Bakugo was kneeling before him, a scowl heavy on his face. “Don’t cry over them, moron,” he scoffed, roughly wiping at Eijirou’s cheeks and Eijirou blinked, wondering when his tears had started. Was it him crying, he wondered, or the character whose life he’d so suddenly interrupted.
“Why didn’t you send me with them?” he asked, letting the prince help him to his feet.
Bakugo gave him an incredulous look. “You saved me, didn’t you? Why would I punish you for that?”
“But I…”
I still set you up with her. I didn’t say something when I should have. I—
“Ugh, Ei, you’re loud,” Bakugo groaned, rubbing at his temples.
“Sorry,” Eijirou said, eyes darting down. He fidgeted, unsure of where this left him.
“And since you saved me from a possible assassination attempt, I think it’s only fair I keep you at my side for the foreseeable future,” Bakugo said easily.
Eijirou’s head jerked back up. “What.”
“To anyone curious, you’re my personal bodyguard,” the prince said, as if he hadn’t just uprooted Eijirou’s entire world.
The prince who was infamously always guarding himself, who only let the royal knights accompany him when he was going on outings, and even then they were ordered to give him a good ten-foot berth.
“You want me to…no, no, no, there’s no way, I’m not cut out, there’s no way I could—!”
“Ei,”Bakugo said.
Eijirou shut his mouth immediately.
“Just stay by my side,” Bakugo said. “That’s all you have to do. Think you can manage that?”
He nodded, because really, what else could he say to that?
Bakugo grinned at him, wolfish and devious, and clapped him on the back. “Good. Let’s hurry back to the castle then and get you settled in. I’m starving.”
Eijirou just gaped at the prince as he sauntered away, his mind whirling from the complete 180 his afternoon had taken.
How had he gone from exile…to this?!
Stay by his side, why did Bakugo Katsuki of all people, want a traitor’s brother at his side?
None of it made sense, but then Bakugo turned his head, not quite over his shoulder, but just enough for Eijirou to know he was talking to him. “You coming?”
And, really, what could Eijirou say, other than, “Yes!”
III. In Which Kirishima Eijirou Finds Himself In Too Deep
In hindsight, Eijirou really should have known that becoming Bakugo Katsuki’s personal bodyguard would be nothing short of hell.
Every day was spent in close proximity with the man he’d spent years languishing over, wishing they could exist in the same world, and now here they were, and he couldn’t think a single damn thought about him, unless he wanted to humiliate them both.
Whoever chose this particular method of torture…they knew what they were doing.
The amount of times he had to sing The Pi Song (100 Digits of π), whenever Bakugo got too close, or wore a pair of breeches that were much too tight, or gods help him, bent over to retrieve something off the ground…
Sometimes he wondered if the prince did it on purpose, to test if Eijirou could restrain himself from lusting over him like a dog in heat. He couldn’t blame him if that were the case, he supposed if someone he knew his entire life suddenly started having lewd thoughts about him and he could hear them, it would be mighty uncomfortable.
But it wasn’t just the horny thoughts that blasted through to Bakugo.
It was every thought.
If Eijirou fretted over his well-being, or if he wanted to know what Bakugo was up to, or how he was doing, or even something as simple as wanting to know if Bakugo liked the food that day, Bakugo heard it all.
He’d even started answering some of Eijirou’s questions, which only made Eijirou think of him more. Truly, it was an unending cycle that Eijirou had no idea how to stop.
The prince sighed and Eijirou’s eyes snapped over to where Bakugo was seated at his desk. The blond gave him a wry grin as he held up a scented envelope. Ah, another mama wanting the newly-single prince to meet her perfect daughter.
“It was so much easier being engaged,” Bakugo huffed as he chucked it into the trash.
“Have your parents said anything?” Eijirou asked, as not for the first time, he wondered how much time he had left with his prince. If he had until the heroine’s appearance at the Winter Ball or it would be cut short by another arranged engagement.
“Nah, honestly I think my old hag’s just relieved I didn’t marry…” Bakugo cut himself off, but Eijirou heard the words his prince didn’t say.
Into your family.
Eijirou couldn’t blame the king, his family was atrocious.
“Your roots are growing in,” Bakugo said quietly.
Eijirou self-consciously patted the top of his hair, as if he could feel the treasonous dark strands. His character had been a child when he’d gotten in the habit of dying his hair red, trying to make the rest of the world forget he was born with black hair. Black was considered an omen of the worst nature in this world, to be born with black hair had been the pinnacle of his parents’ humiliation—it was why they’d tried so hard for another child.
A cursed son and a cruel daughter.
How unlucky they had been.
“Hey,” Bakugo said. “Come to my room tonight.”
THREE POINT ONE FOUR ONE FIVE NINE THIS IS PI
FOLLOWED BY TWO SIX FIVE—
“Good god, Ei get that panicked look off your face,” Bakugo huffed, rolling his eyes at him. “It’s not like we’re going to be naked or anything.”
Unbidden, an image of Bakugo—
CIRCUMFERENCE OVER DIAMETER
Damn the wonderful fan artists from his other world for capturing Bakugo’s likeness so perfectly it was downright impossible not to know what was under all those layers—
SEVEN NINE, THEN THREE TWO THREE
“I’m just gonna help you with your dye job, Shitty Hair.”
A high-pitch chuckle erupted from Eijirou then, as he doubled-over, torn between wanting to say Bakugo didn’t have to and the need to keep the song going in his head because damn his thoughts for going so fucking haywire, he could feel himself losing his sanity by the second—
“Oh, but you might want to wear something that you can easily slip out of,” Bakugo continued, ignoring the giggling breakdown in front of him.
God help him, his prince had to know what he was doing!
“What I’m doing?” Bakugo echoed. “What does that mean?”
Oh god dammit!
***
Eijirou did in fact wear something he could “easily slip out of,” — a loose sleep shirt that fit him more like a dress than anything. He knocked on Bakugo’s door, and hearing the gruff, “come in!” let himself in. He took a moment to admire Bakugo’s rooms—the one he was in was, no doubt, the sitting room, two large couches, a coffee table placed between them, with large window walls with royal-gold curtains. To his left, was a closed door that must lead to the prince’s bedroom and oh, he had to stop that train of thought before it even had a chance to leave the station. Swiveling his head to the right, he saw an open door with golden light pouring from it, and no sooner had he noticed, than Bakugo’s head poked out.
“Well?” the prince said. “Hurry up and get in here!”
Eijirou quickly walked in, feeling almost sheepish as he saw that the prince already had a basin filled with red dye, and a chair propped against his bath.
“Are you sure?” Eijirou asked, “Really I can do this myself—”
“Sure, if I wanted a bodyguard with patchy hair,” Bakugo retorted.
“Hey! I resent that!” Eijirou huffed.
“Yeah, yeah, just get over here, Shitty Hair.”
With a pout, Eijirou shuffled over to the chair, slowly lowering himself in, yelping when strong hands pushed him down and back, before carefully tipping his head backwards, letting his hair fall down into the clawfoot tub.
Oh, Eijirou really should not have let Bakugo do this, not with the way the prince’s body hovered above his, his shirt loose enough to give Eijirou a good glimpse of pink—
3.14159, this is Pi
Followed by 2-6-5-3-5-8-9
Circumference over diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiameter
“Fucking hell Ei, how do you do this without making a complete mess?” Bakugo huffed at him as he ran his fingers through Eijirou’s hair, red dye staining his pale skin.
“Who says I don’t?” Eijirou snarked, warmth blossoming in his chest as his prince laughed. He would sell his soul a million times over to hear Bakugo laugh like that all the time.
An odd expression crossed Bakugo’s face then, softening the harsh lines around his eyes and mouth and for a moment, Eijirou’s eyes met the prince’s and he couldn’t breathe. He was held completely captive by the unreadable emotion in that crimson gaze and it wasn’t until Bakugo accidentally pulled on a knot he didn’t realize he had, was the spell broken.
“Sorry,” Bakugo murmured.
“No, it’s fine,” Eijirou whispered, not knowing why he was whispering. This close, he could feel the heat of Bakugo’s skin even without touching him, could smell the faint scent of Bakugo’s favorite caramel whisky—his prince must have indulged himself before Eijirou arrived.
Would he taste of it too?
Above him, the prince groaned. “Fuck, Ei!”
“Sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry!”
Eijirou would very much like the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Why was Bakugo keeping him around? This wasn’t pleasant for either of them, so why make them endure it?
“You’re my best friend Ei,” Bakugo sighed, turning on the water. “Of course I’d keep you close.”
“You shouldn’t,” Eijirou said.
I’m not the one you grew up with. I’m not the boy who held you on his shoulders so you could pluck apples from the courtyard, or raced you with the horses. I’m just the one who took his place.
I’m not even the one you’ll love.
An imposter with no reason to even be in the same room as you, none of this is real.
Bakugo made no comment, and Eijirou wondered if he’d finally found the exception to this whole humiliation game. If he had thoughts about the truth of his identity, the prince couldn’t hear him.
He truly was a fraud through and through, wasn’t he?
***
“What are your plans for the ball?”
Eijirou looked up from the paperwork he was assisting Bakugo with, blinking as he tried to clear the haze of numbers from hours of accounting work to realize what the prince had just asked him.
“Um,” was all he could come up with.
In all honesty, he didn’t want to go. Watching the heroine finally make her grand appearance and snag the prince’s heart…he didn’t think he could stomach it. With the ball only a handful of days away, he’d already started preparing to take his leave, he didn’t think the prince would notice his absence once his mind became filled with the heroine and the heroine only. If he could get away with it, he’d leave while everyone was occupied at the ball, and probably make a life for himself as a merchant or something. There were plenty of traveling guilds that would take him, and the farther he got away from Bakugo and this faux life he’d somehow created, the easier it would be to let him go.
It sucked though. If he were going to be in this world at all, why couldn’t he have been the one Bakugo loved?
“I take it you don’t have a date then?” the prince asked, and Eijirou realized that once again, the loophole had saved him from revealing his plans and creating more drama than necessary.
“Of course not,” he chuckled. “Who would date a traitor’s brother?”
“You’ll accompany me,” Bakugo said, staunchly ignoring the last part of Eijirou’s words.
Eijirou could feel his brain short-circuit.
“What.”
IIII. In Which Kirishima Eijirou Might Be an Idiot
Eijirou had no words.
There was none truly that could describe the magnificence of the famed Winter Ball. Silver lights hung from the ceiling, glittering like a million little snowflakes, white drapes framed window walls, with the cloak of the nighttime darkness adding to the ambiance of it all. Everyone was dressed in shades of blue and white, as per the dress code, and golden flames danced in the decorative candles that lined the walls. A red carpet ran from the entryway to the dais where the royal family would stand, just a few steps higher than the dance floor and yet worlds away from the people who spawned across it.
The food was just as dazzling to look at as the rest of the place, with plates of an assortment of steaks and seafood, with a fully loaded dessert table, Eijirou’s mouth watered at the thought of trying a bit of everything. If there was something he was good at, it was eating his feelings, and once he saw Bakugo with the heroine, he would be gobbling everything in sight.
A servant with glasses of wine stopped by him, and Eijirou immediately drained two before taking a third, giving the servant a sly wink. The servant raised a slightly judgemental brow at him before moving on.
Eijirou surveyed the guests, wondering if the heroine was already here, looking hard at every young brunette who entered his line of vision, wondering if she was pretty enough to bring the future king to his knees. Maybe once he finally saw her, he would get it. Maybe there was some unwritable quality about her, something that only the characters in the novel would be able to see, something that would forever evade readers of another world.
Trumpets blared and he startled as the royal family came into view and his mouth went dry at the sight of Bakugo. Swathed in delicate blue, the prince looked anything but. From his rigid stance to his locked jaw to the fire in his eyes, Bakugo looked more like he was headed into battle rather than a ball. He watched as Bakugo’s eyes bounced over the guests, before finally settling on him, and call Eijirou a hopeless fool, but he could have sworn he saw the prince’s stature relax ever so slightly once Bakugo realized he was there.
Eijirou himself was in a cream colored suit, with gold trim. Belatedly, he realized Bakugo’s suit also had gold on it, and he couldn’t help but selfishly preen that accidental or not, he and the prince matched.
An amused smirk curled the edges of Bakugo’s lips upwards and Eijirou’s face heated as he realized Bakugo must have heard that last thought.
Whoever cursed him with this, they would die a slow, painful death.
King Mitsuki and her husband, Masaru stepped forwards, with the king addressing her guests, thanking them all for coming to her ball. As if anyone with half a brain cell would decline an invite to the most sought out event of the season.
And then suddenly, Eijirou saw her.
It was as if she appeared out of thin air, in the middle of the king’s speech, standing a mere few feet away from him. There was no fanfare for her grand entrance, rather, she was posed as if she’d been there all along, when Eijirou could have sworn that spot had been empty just moments ago.
His chest ached at the sight of her and her stupid, breathtaking beauty. She was dressed plainer than most, a modest sheer baby-blue gown hugged her perfect hourglass figure. She was thin but not too thin, with dainty wrists and frail arms. Her body was perfectly proportioned, as if someone sculpted her out of clay, and her hips were somehow visible beneath the gown, her figure slender yet curvy in a way that was wholly impossible to achieve. She was a fantasy come to life, an impossible beauty standard that shone among the rest of the ton who’d been cursed to be pretty in a completely human way. Her hair fell in graceful waves down her back, pinned in place with a delicate hairpin, and a light pink gloss shone on her gross, perfect, mouth. Her eyes were wide and doe-like, filled with admiration as she watched the king speak.
She was almost disgusting to look at, with how perfect she was.
In a way, Eijirou almost felt disappointed. This was who had a hero and a prince wrapped around her finger?
As if she too could read his thoughts, she turned to look at him, and smiled shyly. Politely. Demurely. Lady-likely. But all he could see was the emptiness in her eyes—as if she truly was no more than a doll brought to life, a pretty face to be adored, but no heart that could love.
It’s not fair, he thought angrily. He was human, and he could love Bakugo so much more than she could even think of, why couldn’t it be him?
Bakugo.
With a slight gasp, he wrenched himself from her off-putting gaze and whipped his head towards the dais, only for his breath to seize in his lungs as he found the prince’s eyes solely focused on him.
What?
Maybe Bakugo hadn’t noticed her yet, all it would take was one look after all. Bakugo just hadn’t had that first look.
The prince had the gall to roll his eyes, before very obviously turning his gaze to the doll-turned-human and back.
Eijirou’s mouth opened in shock as Bakugo didn’t so much as spare the heroine a second glance. What was going on? Why wasn’t the prince rushing down the dais to be the first to ask her to dance? Why wasn’t he completely entranced, blown away like he should be?
Dimly, he heard the king wrapping up her speech and suddenly the prince was moving, and oh, here we go, Eijirou thought, he will rush to her and the story will progress.
Except Bakugo didn’t rush to her.
No, rather he strode right past her, and made a beeline straight for Eijirou.
“Dance with me,” the prince said, a wild reckless smile on his face, and Eijirou barely felt the heat of Bakugo’s hand wrap around his, stumbling after the prince as if it were him caught in a spell, him ensnared, and it wasn’t until he felt Bakugo’s hand on his waist did he finally come back to himself.
“Wait, why—?”
But Bakugo just grinned at him, and oh, Eijirou was a fool to think he could say anything when it was him the prince was looking at. He was a horrible dancer, but with Bakugo, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. They were spinning around the dance floor, feet colliding and continuing, and all he could feel was that steady weight on his hip, the feeling of Bakugo’s fingers entwined with his, the way the prince’s eyes came alive under candlelight. They were dancing, and the rest of the world fell away, because Eijirou could feel the prince’s pulse in the palm of his hand, and he wondered, is this what it felt like, to hold somebody’s heart in your hand? And if so, could Bakugo feel the way his own pulsed so desperately?
The music came to a stop, and so did they, staring into each other’s eyes, a question and an answer, and oh.
Kirishima Eijirou has a distant thought that he might be an idiot.
***
They were laughing, the night breeze ruffling their hair as Eijirou leaned back against the balcony, cheeks warm from wine and exhilaration, Bakugo faring no better.
“I can’t believe it took you this long to notice,” Bakugo snorted, shoving his shoulder playfully into Eijirou’s. "Who would keep someone with loud dirty thoughts around if they didn't love them?"
Eijirou sobered, as a painful truth reminded him that this was no more than a dream. He looked at Bakugo then, Bakugo who’d never looked so relaxed before, so happy.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and Bakugo frowned.
“I’m not mad at you, Ei—”
“I’m not him.”
The words tumbled out before he could think of a better way to say it. A more believable way. A way that wouldn’t absolutely devastate the both of them.
“What?” Bakugo asked, his brows furrowing together as they often did when he was puzzled.
“I—I’m not Eijirou,” Eijirou said, wishing not for the first time, he knew what his real name was. “I’m not the best friend you grew up with, I don’t know where he is, and I don’t know who I am, all I know is one day you were no more than a fairy tale, and the next, I was a part of it, but not in the way that mattered.”
“Oh,” Bakugo said.
“Oh?” Eijirou asked, wondering why the prince was taking this…almost casually?
“I mean, yeah, I know,” Bakugo said. “I wished for it, didn’t I?”
Hold up.
What?
At Eijirou’s dumbstruck expression, Bakugo reached out and flicked his forehead.
“What does that even mean?” Eijirou asked, “What do you mean you wished for it?”
Bakugo sighed and sat down on the balcony floor, his back pressed up against the railing. Eijirou slowly followed suit, drawing his legs up to his chest as he waited for Bakugo’s explanation.
“Remember when I threw you in the dungeons?” Bakugo asked. “And I asked for your name?”
Now that he mentioned it, Eijirou remembered how odd he’d found that. Surely Bakugo knew the name of his best friend, so why had he asked?
“His name wasn’t Kirishima Eijirou,” Bakugo said simply, and Eijirou felt the world spin.
“What?” he asked, because really, what else could he ask.
Bakugo glanced up at the night sky. “It was about a year ago, when I noticed how everything around me felt fake. Including myself. I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed or cried or felt anything to be honest. I said what was expected, acted how I wanted, and watched the rest of the world fall into place. I tried asking him, I remember, I asked him how he truly felt about me, if we would be friends if I wasn’t the prince, and he just looked at me with this…empty expression. It was like he glitched. And then he smiled and said I was his closest friend, of course my station didn’t matter. And then in that same breath, asked if I would be amicable to marrying his sister because their family would soon be destitute without wealth like mine. I first asked if it had to be me, and I watched this…darkness fall over him. It was fucking creepy, and I felt like I’d gone off a script I didn’t know I was reading. So then I said yes, of course I would. And everything was right again.”
Eijirou’s gut churned uneasily at the scene Bakugo was painting, and wondered what it must have been like, to wake up in your own world, and realize nothing was real?
“It was…terrifying,” Bakugo said quietly. “Suddenly, it felt like everyone wasn’t anyone, faces blurred together, even my mother and father’s. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get my eyes to see how they used to, and I wondered if I would be stuck like this forever. Surrounded by faceless masks with no emotion to their words.”
The heroine’s empty gaze returned to Eijirou then and he couldn’t help but shudder.
“And one night, I just, I don’t know, I prayed to the stars that someone real would come and save me. And I would know they were real because every time they saw me, they would be so overcome with emotion, that not even the confines of their own mind could keep whatever it was they thought of me safe. I would hear every word, and I would know. And the next night, I went from mindlessly talking with my 'friend' to watching the light behind your eyes come alive with something real, and you were saying something about my hands and your waist, and though admittedly while it freaked me out—”
“I’d say, you threw me in the dungeons!”
“—I realized that somehow, someone or something heard me. And when I came to you in your cell and heard a name I’d never heard before, I realized that finally, I wasn’t alone anymore.”
The prince turned to look at Eijirou then, face flushed, eyes alight with life, so much life. “And I knew it was you who sent the letter, long before you thought it, and I knew even without the aid of all your…thoughts…that somehow you loved me, you loved me before you even knew me, and well, how could I not love you from the moment I realized you were mine? Really and truly mine? I wished for you and you came and you saved me in every way I begged to be saved.”
Eijirou was floored by the prince’s confession. He combed through the months he’d been here, the stubborn way Bakugo did everything to keep him at his side. The way Bakugo only admonished his thoughts when they leaned in a distasteful manner, but who answered every other thought as if it were perfectly normal?
Bakugo who covered his ears to block out cruel words and who wiped his tears because he knew they were of genuine pain and just as Eijirou couldn’t stand to see his prince hurt, Bakugo couldn’t bear to see Eijirou hurt either.
Bakugo who dyed his hair, the gentle way his fingers threaded through his hair, rubbing his scalp, staining his own hands red so Eijirou didn’t have to.
Bakugo who invited Eijirou to the ball because he would date a traitor’s brother.
Bakugo who made a scene of looking at the heroine to show Eijirou that she wasn’t who he wanted, she was never who he wanted.
“It’s me?” he asked, his eyes growing hot. “It’s me? You want me? Me?”
Me? The one everyone wished had died instead? The one who couldn’t hold down a job, who didn’t have any friends, who barely knew what he was doing in school?
“Ei,” Bakugo—Katsuki—breathed. “It’s always been you.”
And Eijirou would have fallen apart right then and there, but Katsuki must have sensed this, because before Eijirou could shatter, those warm steady hands were on his face, tilting his head upwards, and softly, sweetly, Katsuki covered Eijirou’s lips with his own.
Eijirou clutched onto Katsuki’s shoulders, his mouth eagerly seeking more, groaning as Katsuki’s tongue swept along his bottom lip, begging entry and who was Eijirou to deny?
He could taste remnants of wine on his prince’s tongue, and he arched into the kiss, going easily when Katsuki’s hands dropped to his waist, dragging him forwards and into his lap. Eijirou might have cared that he was straddling the heir of the kingdom right there on the balcony for all the world to see, but he found he really couldn’t.
Not when the only thing real was in his arms, kissing him as if he were the very air itself.
Oh how Eijirou loved him.