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"Shitty hair."
Logic would lead one to think such a thing could not be a term of endearment. But logic has yet to understand Eijiro.
"Hey, man! What's up?"
Another seeming point of contention: their expressions. Eijiro’s beaming smile (and heart rate kicking into gear) shouldn't pair well with Bakugo's permanent scowl. But that only makes him smile all the brighter - it's always been this way. He’s never expected otherwise. And he knows what's underneath it.
Tie completely absent and shirt two-buttons undone, Bakugo taps the corner of Eijiro’s desk. "We need to train."
"Totally, that's awesome! I've been wanting to find some time, too! When are you thinking?"
"You have plans tonight?"
He stalls a second too long, brings a hand to the back of his head. "Heh. I mean, I should really crack into Present Mic's english essay, but other than that -"
"You haven't started yet?"
"No, man, I totally have! I know what I want to do and everything, we still have a whole week!"
Bakugo's scowl deepens. Eijiro resists the urge to shield his head with his arms.
"After dinner, then. Around seven. I got permission from Aizawa to use Gym Gamma."
"Dude, nice! Absolutely, I'll be there!"
Bakugo's glare tightens. Eijiro’s smile grows.
"Tch." He turns, shouldering his bag. Yells at Mineta for being in his way. Leaves.
Eijiro takes an excited breath before packing his own bag. Hell, yes. This is gonna be awesome.
~*~
Why did they need to study English?
He throws his pencil against the wall, hearing it bounce somewhere behind the punching bag. He'll find it later. He's over this today.
He scoots back from the desk, grabbing his phone. It lights up as he aims for face-planting his bed.
"6:45?! Shit! Stupid English!"
Sharp pivot away from the bed and out the door, Eijiro heads straight for the elevator. He should be able to grab something quick from the fridge and still make it to gamma by seven.
First hiccup: The elevator stops at floor two. The door opens.
"Bonsoir, Kirishima."
"Hey, Aoyama. How's it going?"
"I am running low on brie de meaux; still have some good roquefort, but I find myself in a brie mood this evening."
"Ah. Right."
Aoyama stares, smiling. Eijiro smiles back, eyebrows raised.
The door slides open. Eijiro waits for Aoyama. Aoyama . . . waits for Eijiro? Should he just . . . ?
"Going with Bakugo to gamma, I hear?"
"Oh. I mean, yeah. How'd you hear?"
"Neither of you are very quiet." Aoyama's eyes practically sparkle as he leap-walks from the elevator. "Don't want to be late to ton mec, do you?"
"To what?"
Aoyama spins, stops, smile too knowing as he steps dramatically towards the kitchen. "Oh, you know."
Eijiro steps from the elevator, following. "I don't, though. That's why I was asking."
"Ton mec! Bon ami! Or meilleur ami. Or even . . ." He turns to look behind, wiggling his eyebrows. "Petit ami?"
"You know I don't know French, right?"
Aoyama laughs as if he's told the grandest joke, stepping into the kitchen and opening the fridge with a flourish. "You two have always been close, no?"
"No as in no, or - Look, Aoyama, I really do need to go." He ducks just past to grab a protein shake from the fridge, takes a banana from the fruit bowl on the sink. "I'll catch up with you -"
"How much have you told him?"
He turns, eyes widening. ". . . What do you mean?"
"What he means to you, of course."
Eijiro’s mouth hangs, his face beginning to warm. "I - Aoyama, I really don't know what you're talking about. He's my best friend."
"There's best friends - and there's you two. Go on, don't be late - have an energetic parting gift!" He shoves a cube of brie into his mouth.
By the power of several gods, Eijiro keeps himself from gagging. Smiles as he turns, rounds the corner, and spits that shit into his hand. He tosses it into the trash can by the side exit, wipes his hand against his gym pants and treks it double-time to gamma.
~*~
"Whatever the hell that was, do it again."
Eijiro smirks, setting his feet just past shoulder-width. That worked better than expected.
Bakugo smirks back - and a flood of pride sends goosebumps over the whole of him. Nothing was better than earning the moment Bakugo let his true feelings hint past his anger-mask. He knew Midoriya was somewhat able to do the same, though his were mostly anger-amplifiers or touching a nerve Bakugo didn't want him to. But he smirked with him. Got excited. Motivated. It was like . . .
Bakugo's smirk twitches as he starts to run. Shit. Focus.
His upper-body hardens (can't ruin another pair of gym pants) as Bakugo reaches the same mark. Throws his hands behind him. Launches, flipping mid-air to face back towards Eijiro, just at arm's reach above him, hand trained to blast at his face.
Eijiro hits the back of his hand against Bakugo's, keeps the momentum curving over and around to secure a hold on his wrist. Both twists his own wrist sharply, to spin Bakugo further than he’d intended, and pulls his arm towards himself to keep Bakugo from breaking free as he slams him into the ground.
Bakugo takes a breath before starting to stand; Eijiro lets his wrist go, immediately shifting from attacker to caretaker as he helps him stand. "You okay? Was that too much?"
It's enough to stop his heart, the malice-smile Bakugo spreads across his face as he looks through his sweat-slick blond spikes towards him. "Again."
He wants to ask if he's sure, but the words stick in his throat. He doesn't want that smile to go away. So he smiles back through it, nods, positions again.
Bakugo walks back, turns, repositions. Right leg lunging forward, pressure against the ball of his foot to take off. Left arm bent, hand gloved but not gauntleted, covering just across his mouth, but the curve of his smile is visible. Eyes narrowed, practically sparking with excitement, pinpoint-focused. Even from this distance, the red of Bakugo’s eyes is heightened - wait, are they sparking? That was the tiniest flash of orange. Is that something he knows he's doing? Has he ever been this pumped?
It's so beautiful.
Eijiro’s both watching and not as he hardens once again, Bakugo taking off. Half-resigters his movements, the steps he takes, the foot he plants down solid to launch off.
How much have you told him?
Bakugo's hand is coming around, stretched towards him. He reaches, curls the back of his hand around, but the hold over his wrist is less secure. He prepares to tighten anyway, to flip him, but Bakugo turns his along with, shifting his hand so they meet palm to palm. Grabs Kirishima instead and yanks, bringing them both towards the ground. Moves faster than Kirishima is able to follow until the ground slams into his stomach, a leg pinned across his back.
"I win."
Eijiro catches his breath, but less from the fall. Barely knows how to assist when the pressure against his back lessens, his arm grabbed to flip him onto his back.
"You good?"
Bakugo is above him, breathing heavily, hand still holding his arm. Left leg bent over him, right thigh nearly touching his side as he kneels. The flecks of orange in his eyes have dimmed, but they're no less expressive. Nearly more so. With concern.
There's best friends - and then there's you two.
"Fine! Totally fine!" He pushes up quickly, not letting it register what he touches as he stands. Faces away from Bakugo, brushing himself off. "Y'know, I think you're right. I really should focus better on that essay. I'm gonna go attack that better."
"Kirishima. What the actual -"
"I'll catch you tomorrow in class! Thanks for sparring, we'll have to do it again!"
He jumps down from the landing. Walks to the door and pushes through, normal as ever. As soon as the door clicks shut, he runs.
***
He understands what he's doing. He does. He just can't make himself stop.
His Eijiro-ness is ramped up to eleven. Laughing harder, studying harder, offering more help to his classmates. He's even raising his hand more often to answer questions. That one he needs to stop; if the teachers think he's caring more about class, he'll have to keep it up after. Not that he knows if after will ever happen. Or what "after" even means. All he knows is he left gym gamma that night and hasn't stopped running since.
He couldn't say how many days it’s been, and at this point, he's kind of afraid to. He's never gone this long without touching base with Bakugo - arranging their next meetup, grabbing a quick bite, working out, anything. But as soon as he catches his eye, his heart turns into an acrobat and he doesn't know how to make it stop. And it's so much worse because Bakugo hasn't asked why once. He just sees it on his face and . . . gives him space. Turns away, leaving. Why did that hurt so much? Why was this happening, all of the sudden?
"Hey, Kirishima!"
He starts, looking up from his desk. Most everyone was already heading for the door. He glances at the clock - oh, shit. Guess the day is over.
"Hey, Uraraka! What's up?"
"Oh, y'know, not much. Just trying to keep up with everything, as usual!" She tilts her head, smile as bright as ever. "How about you?"
He finishes packing his bag, shoulders it as he stands. "Yeah, pretty much the same. Trying to keep up."
She turns, starting to walk for the door but looking behind. "Have you been giving yourself enough breaks? Getting out of the dorms and stuff?"
"When I can, yeah. I've been trying to take studying more seriously, y'know?"
"Oh, good, that's awesome! I'm happy for you."
"Heh. Yeah. Thanks."
They step through the double-doors and outside, the mid-afternoon sun bright and warm against them. Groups of kids are pouring from the building, sticking to their groups, filling the air with laughs and shouts and all the pent-up energy of the day. He makes himself stop scanning everyone - if he sees Bakugo, he knows he'll be walking alone. He can't handle that with Uraraka close by; his expression will definitely betray him.
"Wow, the sun feels so good right now! Wanna take the long way around to the dorms?"
He looks at her then, with more than half-focus. Lets his smile have a touch of genuine feeling. "Yeah. That sounds good, actually."
It doesn't take long for them to be swallowed by the path winding through the trees bordering the campus. The shade is more than welcome, even though the day was proving to be a comfortable kind of warm. Places like this were just easier to think. He should walk here more often.
Uraraka looks to him. "So. Everything been going okay?"
"I mean, yeah, for the most part. It'll be a while before our next break. Just one of those longer stretches; what can you do, right?"
"Yeah, I know. Always so long."
"Mhmm." He tilts his head up, looking to the tops of the trees, but glances at Uraraka from the corner of his eye. He knows he's picking up on something; not that they weren't friends, but this feels more deliberate. He doesn't want to assume, but . . . "Why do you ask?"
"Oh. Well, you know . . ." She turns away slightly, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"Sorry, I wasn't trying to pry. You don't have to say."
"No, no, it's not that." She adjusts her backpack, looks back to the path before them. "It was just something I was noticing."
"Oh."
She waves her hands defensively in front of her. "Nothing bad or anything! I don't mean - I'm sorry. This is coming out wrong."
"It's okay. Take your time."
She glances over, her half-smile smaller than usual, but genuine. "Thanks, Kirishima."
They walk a bit slower, following the slow curve of the path that starts to lead towards the dorms. Letting the birds and distant chatter fill the space, centering it.
"There's this thing I do. When the stress of a moment - or a lot of moments - gets to be too much to handle." She takes a breath, glancing again at him. "I ramp up my energy. Try to hide what I'm feeling by being even more myself than usual."
He purses his lips together, biting lightly at the skin. Oh.
"And I kinda can't help myself - I just pay attention to everyone, y'know? Make sure everyone's okay. That they don't need someone to talk to. And I just - I thought -" Even from the side profile, he can see her face shifting to worry. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be nosy or anything. It's probably just -"
"No. It's okay. You're not wrong."
She looks towards him fully. "Really?"
He huffs a breath as he smirks, looking back. "Yeah."
"Oh. Okay." The blush in her cheeks brightens slightly. "Then, when you say you're okay . . ."
He can't keep the tilt of his smile anymore - and is kind of surprised he doesn't want to. He stops, still holding her gaze. Takes off his backpack, lets it drop to the ground behind him, and just sits. "I'm not. I'm really not."
Uraraka drops her backpack in turn. Sits across from him, crossing her legs. Doesn't even flinch at her skirt and leggings scraping across the dirt. "How come?"
Why the hell does a question that simple stab right through the core of him? Like his heart is tightening. Like a wave of relief becoming a flood. It's almost too distracting - but moments like this don't happen to him. It's not anyone listening; it's Uraraka. He doesn't know why he trusts it so much. He just knows he can.
"I - I don't really know how to put words to it. It's things that . . . it's loud in my head. Confusing. And just . . . I don't know."
"Okay. When did you start feeling weird?"
Huh. He hadn't thought about trying to define it like that. He guesses it started when . . . "When I talked with Aoyama a while ago."
"What did you guys talk about?"
"I was gonna spar with Bakugo in gym gamma. He'd gotten permission from Aizawa to use it after hours. I didn't want to be late, so I was rushing to the kitchen because I missed dinner. But Aoyama got on the elevator with me. And he . . . well, he started being Aoyama. Goofing around. Saying a bunch of weird stuff. It wasn't as much a conversation as it was a fly-by."
Uraraka laughs softly. "I can see that. Did he say something that bothered you?"
". . . yeah, actually. He was teasing and all, I know he didn't mean anything by it, but he overheard us when we made plans to go spar. Said he knew we'd always been close, Bakugo and I. And he, well . . ." He hopes the shade of the trees helps hide his face, but he turns his head slightly anyway. "He asked 'how much have I told him.' Meaning Bakugo."
The remainder of Uraraka's smile drops. "Oh?"
"And I asked what he meant, and he said. . . 'what he means to you.'"
Uraraka's eyes widen. "OH."
"Right? I know." He picks up a stick close by, starts doodling in the dirt. “And then I went to go spar, and I kept thinking about what Aoyama said, and we were doing a new move thing, and Bakugo got me pinned, and I just . . ."
He lets the sentence drop. He grips the stick tighter, draws atop the doodle-swirls with a sharp, jagged line. Like how his teeth look when he grits them together.
"Yeah. That would be a lot."
Eijiro nods. Draws another teeth-line.
"Have you figured that out for yourself?"
He stops. Looks up. "How do you mean?"
"Well - I mean -" She holds up her hands again, looking to the side sharply. "I don't mean tell me - that's your business, oh my god, I would never - but for you. Do you know? How you . . . you know . . ."
It's a shock Eijiro’s jaw hasn't dropped through the ground, but it sure is trying. It takes several tries to reel it back in enough to speak. "How I . . . oh. OH. Uh . . ."
"Nope, nope, you're good! If that's where you were stuck, then there you are, you found it! Hooray!" She stops mid hand-swinging. Visibly replays what she just said. Her face brightens along with her cheeks.
He can't help it. The laugh bursts from his chest, full and clear and easy. Like it used to.
He stands, gathering his breath. Sees she's still caught in her mortification moment. So he holds his hand out.
"I really needed that, Uraraka. Thank you."
She looks up slowly. It's a shaky smile amidst everything else, but a smile nonetheless. She takes his hand. "I'm happy I could help."
He makes sure she's standing before he draws attention to himself. "Uh . . . Uraraka?"
"Wha - Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Release!"
Eijiro thumps back to the ground.
She starts stomping ahead without him. "Oh my GOD! I am the WORST!"
This laughter-wave is much more difficult to reign in. "You are not - the worst - oh my god, that was awesome -"
"Don't try to fix it, Kirishima! I'm SORRY!"
"It's fine! Haha, oh my god, you're fine!"
"I'll see you tomorrow, dang it!"
"Yeah, you will! Thank you!"
Her embarrassed mumbles fade into the distance.
~*~
He's not going to do it. He just looked not that long ago . . .
His hand slides next to him on the bed. Taps his phone. 12:19 a.m. Goddamn it.
He should've been asleep hours ago. His alarm is gonna go off at 6 and slaughter him. He can't afford another shit night of sleep . . . but he knows why he can't. No, not even - it's not one reason this time. It's two.
1) Bakugo is in bed, probably asleep, literal feet from him. On the other side of the wall he's facing.
2) He has a clear-as-day picture of what he needs to say to him. It just has the ability to tear apart their entire friendship.
He's spent the last three hours in bed, tossing and turning, going back and forth on either knocking on his door and saying everything or staying silent. He can't determine which is worse. It's eating a goddamn hole through his stomach. But he knows he needs to pick one and get it over with so he can fall asleep.
Get it over . . .
Wait. What was he thinking? That’s what’s wrong.
Shame washes over him as he wraps his head around what he was doing. Two options was wrong - revealing his feelings or staying silent are both about him. And if there’s one thing he learned in middle school, it’s that nothing was ever about him.
Everyone was going through their shit; they needed support. A person they could rely on. And for the first time, someone in his life didn’t find his support annoying. He wasn’t in the way, wasn’t doing anything wrong or less efficiently like he does around the house. This wasn’t about him at all - he can’t remember the last time he’d been so selfish. This was about the third option. The person that’s most important.
What does Bakugo need?
He’s only just started to feel comfortable around Eijiro. Showing his true feelings, inviting him out. Bakugo doesn’t need complications - he needs a friend. A place to be safe. And he’s becoming that for him. How could he think risking that was okay?
No. He knows what he needs to do.
He swallows past the tightness in his throat as he stands. Opens his door as quietly as humanly possible because of all people to be put next to Bakugou's room, it had to be Shoji. The man that can cover himself with ears if he wants to. Not that he would turn spy or anything, he just doesn't want to wake him with potential talking. Give him a reason to turn spy.
The door makes no noise as he closes it. He steps over, raises a hand slow. Lets it hover over the door a moment. Taps with a single finger.
He waits. Waits longer. Considers tapping again -
The door cracks slightly. "You coming in or what?"
God, he's missed his voice. He nods, walking in.
Even amongst the dark, enough red light emanates from Bakugo's desk clock that he sees him sit on the floor, leaning back against the bed, one leg up, elbow resting against it. Doesn't look up. Yeah. This has been bothering him, too.
Eijiro ignores the throb in his heart as he sits next to him on the floor. Leans back, props both legs up, wraps his arms around to pull them close.
"What the fuck has been wrong with you?"
It’s the quiet tension in Bakugo’s voice. Instantly hearing how hard the past days have been for him. His eyes widen as his confidence and reassurance up and fly from his mind. Did he mess up too much? Oh, god, he’s really mad, isn’t -
“Oi, you better start talking -”
“I get scared sometimes.”
Bakugo quiets.
He almost starts to apologize, but chokes it back. Bakugo doesn’t like when he does that. Oh, fuck, he cannot afford to lose his best friend. “I haven’t . . . had a good friend. Like this. Before.”
He locks his eyes to his legs in front of him. The silence pulls more words from his chest. “Not that I don’t have Ashido. She’s great. But she does what I do. Befriends everyone. Keeps the energy up. The kindness, the support. This . . . you . . . fuck.”
He covers his mouth with a hand, turns his head to the side. He made it about himself again. This isn’t about his feelings. It’s not.
“I want to support you. To help you become better. You’re so strong, and smart, and I just make you help keep me from the bottom -”
“Kirishima.”
He stops. Keeps his head turned away. Makes himself breathe slow.
“What the fuck makes you think I’d waste my time?”
His hand drops slightly.
“No one gets to tell me what to do. I know what’s best for me.”
He focuses back on his legs, bringing his arm back around to hold himself tighter. Sees as much as he can through his periphery. Tries to hold his breathing together as he nods.
A tap of pressure rests against his shoulder. Stays.
“Got that?”
He holds onto what he can as he nods. The tears can fall, his breath can shake for a time; Bakugo’s first initiated touch allows for that. But the new space opening in his heart already has a name. And it holds its arms out, asking for the rest.
Loyalty is patient. Strong. Resilient. Understanding. A stability Eijiro can rely on. But he didn’t realize it needed the one thing he has in secret abundance to bundle it together. Keep everything safe and warm, as long as he needs. And he does. He needs it so bad.
So he allows it. Lets the tears and breathing continue, leans the same pressure back into Bakugo’s shoulder as he hands himself over. And Loyalty takes his love and lets it encompass everything.
It’s not the warmth he wanted - but it’s not about him. It’s about the first person, the strongest person he’s ever known, willing to stand next to him and consider him an equal. For that, he will be steadfast in his patience, his strength, his resilience and understanding.
For Bakugo, he will be loyal. And he will wait.