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Kirishima told himself it wasn’t a big deal.
It was just a question. A simple question, really. The kind of thing normal people asked all the time without their heart trying to beat its way out of their chest.
They had been sitting side by side for the past hour, finishing up notes for an upcoming quiz. Bakugo’s handwriting was a mess, but Kirishima had memorized the way he wrote his e’s anyway. He had spent more time sneaking glances than reviewing formulas, and now they were packing up, and it was now or never.
“Hey,” Kirishima said, voice catching in his throat.
Bakugo glanced up. “What.”
Kirishima looked down at his hands. His palms were sweating. God, he was sweating. “I was thinking… there’s a festival tomorrow. You know, food stalls, fireworks, the whole thing.”
Bakugo’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah?”
“Thought maybe you’d want to go. With me.” A pause. “Like a date.”
Silence.
Kirishima didn’t breathe. His chest was tight with everything he wasn’t saying. I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. I’ve been too scared to say anything because I didn’t want to lose you.
Bakugo stared at him, unreadable. Then, he tossed a pen into his bag and stood up.
“Alright,” he said simply.
Kirishima blinked. “Wait—what?”
Bakugo didn’t look at him. “You asked. I said yes.”
“I just—really? You’re not messing with me?”
Now Bakugo did look at him. His expression was flat, but his ears were a little red. “You think I say yes to people for fun?”
“No,” Kirishima said quickly. “No, I just… I thought you’d laugh. Or yell.”
Bakugo snorted. “Do I look like I’m laughing?”
“No. You look—” Kirishima caught himself before he said beautiful. “You look serious.”
“I am.” Bakugo slung his bag over one shoulder. “So it better not suck.”
Kirishima smiled, heart hammering. “It won’t. I promise.”
Bakugo paused by the door, glancing back. “I’ll meet you outside at six.”
Then he left.
Kirishima stared after him, stunned, until he realized he was grinning so wide it hurt. He sat back down and covered his face with his hands, laughter bubbling up in his chest.
He was going on a date. With Bakugo.
And Bakugo had said yes.
—
Bakugo lay in bed, arms crossed behind his head, staring at the ceiling like it had answers.
It didn’t.
He hadn’t stopped thinking about Kirishima’s face since the words left his mouth. Not just the confession, but the way his voice cracked, the way he couldn’t meet Bakugo’s eyes. The way he smiled when Bakugo said yes, like he hadn’t really believed it would happen.
That part bothered him more than he liked to admit.
Kirishima wasn’t the type to ask something like that on a whim. He wasn’t stupid. He didn’t play games. If he said he liked you, he meant it. And Bakugo had seen enough of the world to know how rare that kind of honesty was.
Still. A date.
He turned over and buried his face in his pillow.
What the hell was he thinking, saying yes? Sure, he wanted to. That wasn’t the issue. He had wanted it for a while now, longer than he was willing to admit to himself. But wanting something and being ready for it were two different things.
The last time someone asked him out, it ended with fake smiles and a text message that never got answered. Before that, it had been worse. People saw what they wanted in him, and it had never been him.
Kirishima wasn’t like that. He knew that. But the thought still lingered like a splinter under the skin. What if Kirishima woke up halfway through the night and realized he made a mistake?
Bakugo shut his eyes and exhaled slowly. It was easier to imagine the worst. It made it hurt less when it happened.
But the thing that scared him most wasn’t rejection.
It was how badly he wanted this to go right.
He had never been someone’s first choice. Not really. And now Kirishima, his best friend, his only real friend for a long time, had looked at him and said I like you. Like it was obvious. Like it wasn’t a risk.
Bakugo rolled onto his back again, jaw tight.
He had said yes because he didn’t want to think. Because for once, he had let himself want something without tearing it apart first. Because Kirishima had asked like it meant everything.
And maybe it did.
He stared up at the ceiling and whispered, barely audible, “It better not suck.”
—
Kirishima stood in front of the mirror for the third time in ten minutes, smoothing down his shirt like that would make any difference.
He didn’t usually care this much about how he looked. But tonight wasn’t usual.
The red shirt fit well, paired with dark jeans and his cleanest pair of sneakers. He had even styled his hair more carefully than usual. No crocs, obviously. Bakugo hated them. He had teased Kirishima for wearing them one time and never let it go.
He double-checked his wallet. Enough money to cover everything. That was the plan. He was the one who asked Bakugo out, so he was treating. No exceptions.
Still, his hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting. He knew he looked okay. That wasn’t the problem.
The problem was that he didn’t know what to expect. Bakugo had said yes so casually that Kirishima couldn’t tell if he was excited or just… going along with it.
He took a breath. Then another.
This wasn’t just a crush anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time. Somewhere along the way, liking Bakugo had stopped being this passing thing and turned into something heavier. Something that sat in his chest when they trained together or when Bakugo laughed without meaning to. Something that tightened every time they said goodnight and walked into separate rooms.
Kirishima shook himself out of it. No overthinking. He needed to get going.
He left his room and made the short walk down the hall. Each step felt louder than it should have. When he reached Bakugo’s door, he knocked twice and stood back, shifting his weight nervously.
The door opened a few seconds later.
Kirishima blinked.
Bakugo leaned against the doorframe, wearing black ripped jeans and a dark flannel layered over one of his skull shirts. His eyeliner was sharp, subtle, and totally unfair. Kirishima tried to speak but forgot what language was.
“You gonna stand there all night?” Bakugo asked, eyebrow raised.
“You look… really good,” Kirishima said before his brain could catch up with his mouth.
Bakugo rolled his eyes, but there was a flicker of a smile. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
They walked out of the dorm together, and once they were outside, Kirishima glanced down at their hands.
He hesitated.
Then he reached out and laced his fingers through Bakugo’s. Tentative. Testing the water.
Bakugo looked down. “What’s this?”
Kirishima flinched. “Sorry, I just—if you don’t want to, I totally get it.”
Bakugo didn’t let go. “I didn’t say that.”
“Oh.” Kirishima smiled, gripping his hand a little tighter.
They kept walking.
And just like that, the night began.
—
The festival was already alive by the time they arrived.
Warm light spilled across the pavement from rows of lanterns strung between food stalls. There was music in the background, half-drowned out by laughter, clattering dishes, and the rhythmic thump of festival drums somewhere near the center. The air smelled like grilled meat and fried dough.
Kirishima didn’t realize how hard he’d been gripping Bakugo’s hand until he felt Bakugo shift slightly beside him. He loosened his hold.
“Too crowded for you, or just nervous?” Bakugo muttered.
Kirishima chuckled, a little breathless. “Just excited.”
They strolled past a stand selling mochi, another with candied apples stacked like shiny red bombs. A booth with skewers caught Bakugo’s eye.
“Ikayaki,” he said, already veering off-course.
“Alright, alright,” Kirishima said, laughing, as he followed. “Didn’t know you were that easy to impress.”
“Grilled squid’s a classic. Don’t mess with tradition.”
They each ordered one, and Kirishima paid before Bakugo could even reach for his wallet.
Bakugo narrowed his eyes. “You planning to pay for everything?”
Kirishima shrugged. “That’s the idea.”
“That’s dumb.”
“It’s considerate.”
Bakugo looked like he wanted to argue more, but instead, he took a bite of his ikayaki and kept walking. “Better not complain when I win every game.”
Kirishima grinned. “You wish.”
They ate as they walked, drifting toward the row of game stalls. Lights blinked and prizes hung from above, suspended like trophies. It didn’t take long for their competitive streak to flare.
The ring toss booth was doomed from the start.
“You’re overthinking it,” Kirishima said as he landed a ring with ease.
“You’re full of shit,” Bakugo snapped, missing his next throw by an inch. “You’re using some quirked-up muscle memory or something.”
“I’m not even using my quirk.”
“You’re lying.”
They burned through tickets fast, snapping at each other between tosses, shoving each other lightly whenever one of them scored. A small crowd formed to watch them go at it like two kids who didn’t know what a date was supposed to look like.
Eventually, the game runner cleared his throat. “You two done?”
They looked behind them. A line had formed.
Bakugo clicked his tongue. “Tch. Guess we’re holding up the economy.”
“You can pick the prize,” Kirishima said, still catching his breath.
Bakugo scanned the selection. His gaze hovered briefly on a huge, round All Might plush with absurdly tiny arms.
“You sure?” Bakugo said, pretending to look at other things.
“Completely.”
Bakugo glanced away, ears turning pink. “Then that one.”
Kirishima told the vendor, then took the plush and handed it to Bakugo. “All yours.”
Bakugo hugged it instinctively. His face disappeared behind the soft cotton for a second. “...Thanks.”
“Anytime,” Kirishima said, rubbing at the back of his neck.
Bakugo didn’t let go of the plush, but his hand brushed Kirishima’s again as they moved on. This time, he was the one to intertwine their fingers.
—-
They found a quiet spot near the edge of the festival grounds, just past the last row of lanterns. A slope of grass led up to a small hill that overlooked the field where most of the crowd had gathered. It was quieter here. Distant enough that their voices didn’t have to compete with the noise.
Bakugo dropped onto the grass without a word, settling the All Might plush behind him like a makeshift cushion. Kirishima sat down beside him, close but not touching.
The sky was starting to dim. Soft purples and deepening blues stretched overhead, and the first stars were beginning to show through.
Neither of them spoke for a while.
Kirishima leaned back on his hands, breathing in the scent of grilled food and summer air. His shoulder brushed Bakugo’s, and this time, he didn’t move away.
Bakugo tilted his head slightly. “Still think this was a good idea?”
Kirishima looked over. “What, the date?”
Bakugo nodded, eyes fixed on the horizon.
“Yeah,” Kirishima said. “You?”
Bakugo’s mouth twitched. “Jury’s out. You were late to the ring toss.”
“I wasn’t late. I was letting you win.”
Bakugo scoffed. “You couldn’t let me win if you tried.”
“You think I’d hold back against you?”
“No,” Bakugo said, finally turning to face him. “That’s what makes it fun.”
Kirishima smiled. His chest felt too full.
The first firework shot into the sky and burst in a soft bloom of gold. A ripple of oohs and ahhs echoed from the main field below. More followed, painting the sky with color. Their faces lit up in flashes of blue, red, silver.
Bakugo’s hand found his again. This time, his grip was steady.
Kirishima squeezed it gently. “Thanks for coming with me.”
“You asked.”
“You didn’t have to say yes.”
Bakugo didn’t answer right away. His thumb brushed over Kirishima’s knuckles once, slow and absent-minded.
“I wanted to.”
Another firework bloomed above them, brighter than the rest. Kirishima turned to look at him, heart thudding a little faster.
Bakugo met his gaze.
He looked nervous. Not unsure, just wound tight. Like the kind of tension that came before jumping off a cliff.
“I like you,” Bakugo said, the words clipped but honest. “Not just for tonight.”
Kirishima stared at him, stunned for a second too long.
“Say something,” Bakugo muttered.
Kirishima leaned in without thinking. “Can I—”
Bakugo was already there.
Their lips met in a kiss that was soft, careful, and too short. Like both of them were still afraid of doing it wrong. When they pulled back, their foreheads stayed close.
Kirishima exhaled a shaky breath, smiling. “We could do that again.”
Bakugo looked down at their joined hands. “Yeah.”
Then, almost shyly, he added, “I want to.”