This fic was born thanks to my dearies Feh and Mi. They talked about doing a collab together, so I suggested the idea of writing a Seven Days AU since the love and softness of this manga has always had a special place in my heart. I hope that my writing can create the same atmosphere this manga has.
Hope you enjoy!
Author: rashiisa
Artists: fehinprogress, satur-nya
Everything changes with the onset of winter.
It's time for the world to be chaotic and graceful in a shaken snow globe, for the daylight hours to get shorter and for people to hide out in cafes like creepy-crawlies seeking warmth, while the white piles flake by flake outside, slow but steady, and crunches beneath heavy footsteps. It coats the crowns of the denuded trees that quiver against the overcast sky when the biting air whooshes. A glimpse of sunshine pours through the clouds and all glistens as diamond dust.
It's the season for U.A. students to get into their most fluffy outerwear, dash through the halls and take snowballs fights life-or-death, leaving numb fingers and splotchy-red cheeks that melt with sheets of wool and mugs of hot cocoa. They quickly bounce back to cry out the stress of the tests coming up, but without regard to the textbooks and overread notes, their faces gleam with the excitement for the incoming holidays.
Because everywhere they look at, the enchantment of Christmas has a presence; in every bulky fir overlay with scintillating lights, in the balmy smell of freshly baked cookies travelling down the corridors, in the rush of hangouts promising joy, in the shades of the pale bluish grey spilling in the class.
The back of Bakugou's hand slides on the sheet as he answers the test with absolute confidence. Cheek resting against palm, lips puckered in a weary pout and eyelids drooping as he wraps up the stroke of a vowel. His mouth opens in a spontaneous yawn. Kirishima and Kaminari had struggled with a few exercises the night before, so Bakugou put himself the duty to bury their heads in their notebooks and make sure everything was crystal-clear. Kaminari had went over the units again and slept a couple hours; Kirishima, unlike him, stressed over the easiest question on earth merely because fatigue was taking its toll. It wasn't until Bakugou pressed a hand to his face that Kirishima shut up. You're not as dumb as you think. Then they repeated the same concepts over and over to sunup, entailing that neither of them has slept a wink.
Bakugou's lids begins to fall in lazy motion beneath the subdued silence of the room and the dim rays of the sun scattering through the windows; the rubbing of clothes, the shuffle of sheets, the soft peck of pens against wooden, Kirishima's heavy exhale two rows in front, three seats to the right.
Looks like he has no trouble solving the test, judging by the absence of leg-shaking, but occasionally he checks what he has written down and embeds the tip of the pen in his lower lip, eyes wandering through the papers until something clicks in and his face light up before returning to the exercise. Bakugou sighs in relief, still with half face wrapped in his cheek. There's no doubt Kirishima will pass.
Anyone could see it unjust, though, if Kirishima turns out studious besides being kind, strong and attractive—with his glowing red mullet, his sturdy body and his soft-hearted nature, it's easy to fall in love with him, even as romance never caught Kirishima's interest.
Nonetheless, this year he has started going out with the first person who confesses to him on Monday, then dumping them on Sunday with the argument that a week should be enough to fall in love. It must be draining to repeat the loop each week, but he seems delighted with that.
Bakugou has borne witness to the expressions of the people who like Kirishima but don't dare take the plunge. Bakugou has seen the gloomy episodes they go through as soon as they break up. Then again, Bakugou has suffered more hugs and kisses and corny stuff than he would like—Kirishima's fellas sticking to him as limpets sort of stuff. It's stifling just looking at them, and Bakugou fails to understand how Kirishima can endure so much… affection. He offered once to kick the shit out of a dude who spent the day clasping Kirishima's waist, but Kirishima insisted he had no problem when he clearly had it. So Bakugou just mocked them under his breath until Kirishima had the balls to mention the personal boundaries. The guy threw the matter in his face by saying Bakugou had turned his head because Kirishima paid more attention to him than to his boyfriend.
Such a sudden blast of jealousy caught him off-guard. He had zero interest in dating anyone even though love letters rained over him, since his aura was too frightening to confess face to face, and surely there is someone out there crushing on him. But he has more important hero stuff to take care of.
However, observing Kirishima, he began to wonder what was so great about dating, what made Kirishima smile from ear to ear any time he got a message, why his good-mornings sounded so happy, what made him look so resplendent. And the idea of fooling around wasn't awful anymore; perhaps with someone outside the school, or from the agencies he did internships in.
This guy from Class B who deserved his attention months ago, during a tournament between the two classes. He had this disinterested attitude that unravelled as soon as he stepped on the battlefield and the concentration creased his brows. His quirk was some kind of rotating force, and he knocked down most of the Class A before Bakugou stamped his face against the ground. The boy's glare and defiant smile didn't fade a tittle. You're a monster, he laughed out of breath. Big eyes, messy hair, well-built—a fucking great match if it weren't for the fact that it was the compliment what most pleased Bakugou, since the idea of dating this guy was appealing, but it also repelled him beyond belief.
It's that uneasy not-knowing what has been eating him away for ages, and looking at Kirishima, at how he doesn't mind to go out with anyone who asks him, Bakugou thinks, what if.
From the outset, Kirishima has been an obvious constant in his life, inside and outside the Academy. Bakugou connects with him better than the rest of his friends and he's sure as fuck Kirishima will understand his hassle - because he's been through the same shit, hasn't he? - and will support him as much as he can because Kirishima is like that, a being of light clearing everyone's pathway.
If he wants to find out what he's into, if he has to choose someone to carry it out, if it must be a friend, it will be Kirishima. It will always be Kirishima.
And Bakugou thinks, of course.
"All right, time's up!" Midnight's voice snaps him back on track, averting his eyes from Kirishima. "Pass the exams to the front, please."
It's okay, dammit, Bakugou assures himself as he shifts to take the block of exams that Aoyama offers from behind. He puts his exam on the top and hands it to Hagakure.
His gaze drifts again to Kirishima, who leans back in his chair as he exhales of exhaustion. He stretches his arms out while Midnight finishes telling when the grades will be ready and what those failing will have to do. He shows fairly confident despite being overworked, so it doesn't surprise Bakugou when Kirishima takes zero seconds to recover and get out of the chair when Midnight leaves. Where the fuck does he get so much energy.
"Bakugou, let's go!" He strides toward his seat. "Hurry up, man! Lunch Rush is offering his signature dish on today's menu—"
"Wait a sec, mullet," Bakugou grumbles before Kirishima lasers his way to the dining hall. "I gotta talk to you," he says, calmer this time.
Kirishima blinks and relaxes his shoulders. "Uh, sure. What is it?"
"Not here." And he gets up, taking his backpack over his shoulder.
Kirishima follows him, and Bakugou looks up to the vast window of the corridor—it's still snowing leisurely, and greyish light pour through the glass, making the atmosphere a trifle relaxing. He swings to the left with his eyes locked on the tiles. Teachers flee classrooms, students pass by, the hallway becomes lighter and more silent as it clears out.
It's okay, isn't it?
Now when Bakugou deigns to look at Kirishima, he's stepping in front of him and has kept talking all the way but Bakugou has barely paid attention.
"...and the dining hall will be packed if we don't hurry," Kirishima says turning over. "So, what is it?" and his smile is there, radiant as ever.
Fuck. Something twists in his chest. He's not scared, Bakugou refuses to be scared, how could he be scared, he, Ground Zero, the pre-hero of the detonations and the swear words and the terrifying face that causes villains to pee in their pants. How could he be scared that something as trivial as starting a relationship with his best friend may be the biggest mistake of his highschool life when it's his best friend who we are talking about?
He's not scared because Kirishima won't allow that his stupid whim affects the harmony between them. Kirishima won't tell him he's stupid for assuming he would date him, someone who differs from all the couples Kirishima has had, because Bakugou has enough self-esteem and courage to stand in front of him, take a breath and say bluntly,
"Go out with me."
His fists tighten inside his pockets—Kirishima's smile fades into parted lips, eyebrows slightly crinkled and full-open eyes laying on his.
Bakugou's chest swells. He knows Kirishima like the palm of his hands, and when Kirishima speculates too much, when something runs through his mind and he's trying to understand what is going on, he makes that face. A hard math exercise, a super strong villain without a single scratch. It's a face of consternation, as if something has short-circuited and Kirishima can't figure out how to reconnect the cables.
Bakugou has always detested that expression and has always hastened to erase it at once. It's a kind of panic Kirishima always tries to mask, but oh, Bakugou knows best, reads him as an open book and points at the root of the problem. And yet this time is different, something Bakugou doesn't recognise.
"I've never dated anyone," he hurries to say. "So I have no fucking idea how it works. But you—you're always dating, and it makes me wonder what's so good about it." He lowers his voice. "I wanna know. So... go out with me."
Kirishima still has that undefine look—confusion, surprise, disgust, Bakugou doesn't know, and he's thinking he doesn't want to know because he may not like Kirishima's answer, because maybe it is weird to go out with your best friend just for convenience like he's using Kirishima and it's not like that and fuck, Bakugou is not sure how to explain himself so Kirishima quits that confused tint in his eyes and breaks this tension killing him for every second passing by. It's fucking unbearable, and Bakugou's brows almost touch in a frown.
"If you don't want to, just say it. Dammit," he snarks, because at this rate he will be ashamed of himself and no, he won't let that happen.
Kirishima startles, forcing Bakugou to hold a breath when his skin flushes and his hand rubs the back of his neck—at least he's pleased.
"Uh, yeah, sorry. I—" Kirishima takes several seconds to blink out of his state, and while Bakugou is on the verge of a cardiac arrest, Kirishima chuckles. He fucking chuckles with the typical endearing smile and roguish tone he dedicates to his affairs. "I didn't know I was your type, dude!"
Bakugou colours up. "This is not about you being my type or not, idiot!" There's no mean intention in his words, Kirishima's already used to him. "It's because I have no idea what the fuck I'm into that I'm asking you!"
Kirishima's smile freezes for a second. What the fuck is wrong with him, why these words seem to affect him more than anyone's? Bakugou snaps, ah, he's Kirishima's best friend as well, and maybe he feels, thinks, aches, he's only a toy Bakugou can play with, and the thought of Kirishima thinking of him in that way makes his stomach churn.
Kirishima grins and places his hands on his waist. "Yeah, let's do it."
Breathing a sigh of relief, Bakugou gets a hand out of his pocket and curls it in a fist in front of Kirishima. "One week, starting today," he resolves, hand lingering.
Kirishima blinks and dithers, and Bakugou can see something spilling in his look. But he smiles again, eyes beaming. "One week."
A smirk expands through Bakugou's lips when Kirishima bumps his fist with a gentle touch, light bathing half their faces and snow descending in cascades at the other side of the window.
Days are extremely short, so it's already darkening when they leave. Kaminari has planned to go with Tetsu to the mall and buy presents for Secret Santa, so Kirishima joins stating Bakugou and he will go on their own.
The subway is overcrowded to no one's amazement. Heat and stench overload the atmosphere, and Bakugou catches Kirishima's blank expression under his sunglasses once they fall into silence. Kaminari elbows Kirishima to show him something on his phone that Bakugou doesn't even bother to gossip about, while Tetsu chuckles and shakes his head.
When they exit the subway, Tetsu has an arm around Kaminari's waist, and Kaminari occasionally turns his head towards him and laughs, squinted eyes and pinkened nose.
Kaminari is also gotten quite popular. He went with Kirishima to a beauty salon months ago to grow their hair, fuelled by the rumour that the owner manipulated hair growth at will. Therefore, Kaminari showed up the first day of school with a mane shinier than his future tied into a ponytail. There are always a few unmanageable hairs he will tuck behind his ear, strengthened arms because of his athletic physique anyone might be envious of, together with his golden eyes and impish grin made him earn the title of Prince Charming. But as soon as people detect he's into bad puns and otome games, they rename him as Freak Charming.
He's working on it, even though it's not needed anymore.
Bakugou has no idea why, but Christmas is the moment that people choose to openly share their love. Smiling, Tetsu pinches the point of Kaminari's nose either to warm it up, either to scold him about his silly jokes, and they're so sickeningly sweet that Bakugou's gaze deviates to Kirishima, inches away from him. They're supposedly dating and yet there's enough distance to suggest contact but not to get to touch.
Bakugou limits to look forward. "If exams cause you any trouble…" he says, pulling his mask over his mouth to keep out the cold. "I won't mind tutoring you every day."
He notes Kirishima's eyes like nails on his skin, but Bakugou concentrates on Kaminari's ponytail bouncing from side to side. He hears Kirishima chuckle.
"I'm counting on you!"
The sweet music of Christmas carols over the speakers in each corner is a classic now, so it is the blushful face of people and the happiness reflecting in their eyes, garlands and flickering lights in a mass of gold, crimson and neon blue. Once they walk up the stairs leading to the main hall of the mall, Kaminari says Tetsu and he will be on the second floor, east wing, and they all should meet two hours later at that same place.
It's when Kirishima and Bakugou are finally alone that the silence is awkward and the conversation shallow—it's freezing, uh?, It is; Wanna go inside?, Sure, because Bakugou can't behave as usual. He's dating Kirishima, for fuck's sake, it's hella hilarious and he must be making a fool out of himself, all he has to do is check him out and see he's… braiding a lock between his fingers.
Frown wrinkled and lips puckered up like a kid, Kirishima fiddles thoughtfully with his hair, tangling, unravelling and entwinning again. He's pretty quiet and avoiding eye contact, and the only thing Bakugou concludes is that Kirishima is getting bored to tears or has about to work as a decent human being. So it is weird, uh?
Bakugou's eyes drift towards the maroon and golden blur behind Kirishima, and he stops in his tracks while a smile works its way through his lips. Kirishima does too.
"There you go." The words leave Bakugou with taunt, and Kirishima grunts as the sole reply when he follows the direction of his gaze.
Standing halfway down the hall next to each other, their eyes don't lift off the giant poster attached to the wall and surrounded by white lights to engage the attention of the customers, the line STRONG IS BEAUTIFUL™ written in bold above the picture of Kirishima and Kaminari. A renowned brand suggested them to do an advertisement in their hero outfits for a hair product neither of them actually uses. The morons didn't hesitate even a second to agree.
Head turned to Kirishima, Kaminari's pose reminds of the finger guns he usually does, electricity enveloping him like a celestial halo and enhancing the volume of his ponytail, so soft-looking anyone would want to reach out and touch it. His teeth shine because of the smile crinkling his eyes and beautifying his cheekbones. The fucker is undoubtedly charming.
Kirishima sighs, putting his hands on his hips. "Man, he looks like a model."
"Because he is," Bakugou says. That's not the first announcement Kaminari has done, and won't be the last.
"Yeah, but—I mean… he's like that, and I'm like that." He gestures to his own image.
"People use to underestimate their attractiveness just when they compare themselves to others," Bakugou points out. "So cut the shit."
Kirishima remains silent for a few seconds until he laughs. "Right. I'm dating Ground Zero so I must be okay." Bakugou feels Kirishima's wide smile, but fights to suppress a proud grin. "Guess the camera didn't love me enough."
Bakugou squints an eyebrow. "You're not that bad."
Kirishima has grown beefy and about two centimetres taller than him, and where there was an undercut on the second year, now grows a long mane thatthat he still likes to spike up at the front. Half the school has got it bad for the gear-shaped earrings hanging from his earlobes and the toothy grin of his lips, for the vitality he gives off even in the commercial with the cross-armed pose characteristic of his.
"What is more," Bakugou takes off his sunglasses. "You almost look like a goddamn pro. I wouldn't be surprised if you get a fan club or something."
"I've already got a fan club," Kirishima mutters under his breath, grinning as he tips his head to Bakugou.
Bakugou scoffs. "No fucking way. Who?"
"You."
Bakugou's eyes flicker to Kirishima gesture, so coquettish Bakugou can see his sharky teeth at the edge of his mouth.
Is he just messing around or something? What does he want him to respond, what should Bakugou respond for Kirishima to wipe out that flirty smile he's never seen on him before. What should he feel besides deep confusion fogging his mind and hesitancy taking away his voice. How did Kirishima's exes manage to face these seconds in which Bakugou doesn't know whether to ask if he's stupid or to agree with him, yeah, yeah, he's Red Riot's fan because he's amazing, how can he not be amazing?, but Bakugou's not saying it aloud, really, he's not like that and it's just—Kirishima's playing dirty, isn't he? He's forcing Bakugou to step out of his comfort zone 'cause oh!, Bakugou has already stepped out of his comfort zone at the moment he opened his goddamn mouth and let Kirishima test him with lame pickup lines and pathetic courting smiles.
Bakugou is too smart to fall for that.
"As if," he finally answers with feigned disdain, turning around. He puts his mask on. "Better stay close, mullet! I don't wanna be called out 'cus you went missing!"
They go back to the settled place at the settled time, after wandering through half the building and splitting up about an hour to get something for their secret santa and for each other, bags brimming with gift-wrapped packages, but Kaminari and Tetsu are nowhere to be seen.
"What're taking them so fucking long?" Bakugou mutters after a little, gaze frowned towards the main entrance of the building.
And then, like invoked, there's an explosion. Crystals come shooting out from the windows of the stores at the second floor, east wing.
Bakugou's heart falls out.
"A villain?!" Kirishima takes a step forward.
Leave it to the pros, the rational part of Bakugou's brain claims. Rush in, his other part states, the most uncontrollable and intuitive, and the one he heeds right away. Putting the bags on the floor, he surges to the source of the outburst, with no need to spin around to see if Kirishima is accompanying him - of course Kirishima is right by his side - and blasts himself in the air to reach the second floor.
It's a muddle of smoke and alarms and people racing to the emergency exits; it follows a second explosion, and Bakugou lifts an arm over his head to ward off the cracks that the flush of hot wind blows towards him.
A lightning sparks from the middle of the building, shattering the night sky in two with a burst that makes Bakugou squint. It's easy to conclude that the author of that lightning is no less than Kaminari, and Bakugou undoes the lines of his frown; he's an utter fool for daring even to question the power of his friends, since Kaminari will undoubtedly become the god of thunder if he keeps it up.
Kirishima comes running next to him, howling he has heard that Chargebolt and Cellophane are in that store taking care of the villains. Bakugou is about to say they can cope alone, but an ambush of villains come out of nowhere at the same time as a few sidekicks who were escorting nearby.
"I can deal with these losers on my own!" Bakugou frowns, and Kirishima scoffs.
"Wanna bet, explosion boy?!" and the motherfucker grins at the end of the phrase.
Bakugou fights to repress a smirk. "I bet my ass I can knock 'em all in less than a minute and make you bite the dust, mullet!"
"In your dreams!" he responds just before spinning around and fend off the attack of a villain..
Bakugou goes ahead and points his hands at two of the emitters trying to surround him and pushes his feet to the floor, the tension of his muscles swelling in the taut cloth of his jeans. He detonates his palms a couple times, one eye closed and his left cheek flat against his arm, as if shooting an actual gun. The balls of fire and smoke hit the villains and consume them into a brumal mass.
He turns his head to Kirishima, and he's panting while fighting hand-to-hand, taking them down one by one, clean and fast as if nothing until he's yanked backwards by a villain and crashed in the escalator that accesses the third floor. Cursing in whispers, he gets up in less than a blink and wipes the sweat and dirt off his eyes with the back of his hand. The bastard is so fucking strong.
"Red Riot!" One of the sidekicks shouts after him, and Kirishima turns his head. "Your quirk is too inappropriate right now! Keep out of this!"
Kirishima's eyes grow wider before his lips press together and his hands curl in fists, frustration setting in his eyebrows as he starts to back up. Wait, seriously? He's running away just because someone he thinks is stronger says so? Since when fucking Red Riot - it's Riot, for god's sake! - ignores his own judgment after having lived so many battles and wounds in his own flesh, and listens to someone who is not even a professional? Since when he's left behind when there are people involved who could be injured, or when his friends are fighting and giving their all?
Since when Red Riot is so underconfident of himself?
"Kirishima!" Bakugou barks, catching Kirishima's attention for he swirls and looks over his shoulder. "Don't fucking listen to him! It's okay if you tear down a few shitty walls!"
Kirishima opens his mouth to surely reply the man is right, but he stops. He turns to block with his arms the punch of a villain, sends him to the storefronts in a flash.
"Red Riot!"
"Kirishima!"
Hesitating for a moment, Kirishima looks like he's going to retreat, but that gaze gleaming at him from afar tell otherwise.
With restored vigour, Kirishima sharpens his arms like blades, first the right, then the left, so rapid Bakugou can hardly see it. Kirishima smirks wily, and fiercely lashes out at the villain again and again, four hits, five hits, beats relentless until Bakugou loses count. He finally punches him in the stomach and head-butts him letting out a shout, the villain blacking out right afterwards.
Laughing briefly, Bakugou keeps helping to knock down the rest of the villains and evacuate people while professional heroes and police arrive, lips curved upwards as he glances at Kirishima, who amusedly stares back with eyes burning bright.
The first thing Bakugou does when they head back to Heights Alliance is take a long, blistering shower, get into his pajamas and go down to the kitchen to cook something, although his body is so exhausted he's not even hungry.
Everything is dimly lit by the emergency lighting above the exit doors and fireplace that for some odd reason is still going. The flames cast black shadows on the floor, and as he turns his head towards the common room, he sees the back of a crimson head peeking out of the closest couch to the hearth—the radiant floor U.A. has for heating system warms up the place more than enough, but Kirishima enjoys better the special glow of the blazes and the trunks crackling quietly.
Maybe he's upset about that afternoon's fight. Maybe the idiot fell asleep and he will be late to class tomorrow with messier hair and a contracture on his neck.
A hand rubbing his forehead, Bakugou lets out a suspire and shuffles towards the couch, temperature raising as the heat of the light warms his clothes; he understands now why Kirishima is there, near the smooth flares of the bonfire. He's close enough to see Kirishima's hair down in that annoying hairstyle, eyes fixed on the crepitation of the logs. At least he's not asleep, he seems… lost in his thoughts. He's definitely judging himself for something he hasn't done or for something he thinks he did wrong, like I'm still too weak, I should've taken him down, next time I'll get killed—Bakugou is enervated of all that bullshit.
As if Kirishima is not strong. As if Kirishima is not the great hero everybody honours.
He gets around the couch. "What are you doing here, mullet?" he asks in a murmur, and Kirishima startles.
"Hey," he chuckles softly when his eyes meet his, blanket shifting over his shoulders. "I can't sleep."
He does look wearied and done, and with the longing for heat and the exhaustion on his own body, Bakugou's mind fly on his own and can't help it when he slides onto the couch and falls backwards to lean his head onto Kirishima's lap. Because couples do that, right? His eyes are closed, so if Kirishima is staring with petrified limbs and breath held, Bakugou doesn't care. It's cosy here, fluffy blanket beneath his cheek and the warmth from the fireplace and Kirishima's body tangling with his.
After a little, Kirishima squirms under him to get comfortable and rubs Bakugou's sides once Bakugou curls in, face turned down into Kirishima's belly. He doesn't react when Kirishima wraps an arm around his back to draw him tighter. He doesn't flinch when Kirishima puts the corner of the blanket over him. But then, his hand.
It shifts into his hair hesitantly, as if asking for permission, travelling so tender, so relaxing, that Bakugou sighs in delight.
"Is this okay?" Kirishima mutters above him.
Bakugou doesn't discern whether he means the whole dating deal or the fingers engraving heartfelt paths on his scalp. He finds it appeasing, so Bakugou submerges in the calidity of Kirishima's caresses just on his nape, where the hair is shorter. The hand rubs patterns until it deviates, fingers sliding carefully up, up, up, drawing circles like he's grazing a baby head, gently and lovely—Bakugou lets out a deep sigh to affirm it's absolutely okay.
"Thank you," Kirishima whispers after a while, slowing even more the pace of his hand.
Bakugou takes a little to process Kirishima's words, but his eyes open slightly so the firelight filters through his lids, and he hums as a question.
"I wouldn't be able to keep fighting without you."
And recalling the scene, Bakugou turns over on Kirishima's thighs to mumble it's bullshit and that he shouldn't make a big deal, but when he looks up, at the face outlined by loose hair, Bakugou's mouth shuts in.
Kirishima can dye his mane with each and every one of the shades of red that have been and are still to come; he can shed rivers of tears just because he's moved by someone's attitude and call it manly; he can say everything is fine with a smile and make everyone believe it.
But he can never hide the pureness and love of his eyes.
It's impossible not to see it in the short lashes fluttering slowly, dense and black like traces of ink. It's absurd for those eyes to be so bright, or Bakugou hasn't got a proper look at them before; it's amazing the way the billowing flames create orange patterns and paint glints of gold, making the irises almost like reddish fireworks until it bends gradually with the circumference of a darker shade bordering them in a shimmering sphere.
They're sincere and intense. That's what he most admires about Kirishima, and what never changes.
Eyelids low, smile gentle, brows puckered upwards in an expression so soft it's almost unjust—all of him drips much more affection than one might expect, holds much more appreciation than anyone might notice, but Bakugou does, lets it pass through and burn him, it burns with a power that coaxes Bakugou to stay back.
It's scary, sometimes, how much Kirishima is able to love.
And the fact that Kirishima has all this boundless affection to allocate among them all is respectable in one way or another, especially when he started flirting with him from the first minute by saying he was Red Riot's whole fan club, lips arching and blush watercolouring his cheeks; especially when Bakugou saw a total confidence underneath Kirishima's fiery gaze just before taking his advice and indulging that sidekick; especially now, when adoration pulses in Kirishima's eyes, like he could spend all his life staring at him.
This side of Kirishima is different and yet interesting. He's been flirty, soft and natural, just as Bakugou wanted him to be, and once in a while, Bakugou thinks of giving it back, of looking at him with the same devotion his gaze emanates, like nothing matters more than the fragility of hands fiddling with velvety hair.
But he can't, or doesn't know how. Bakugou is incapable to say thank you with the same kindness like he's describing the eighth wonder, or dedicate him that same fond smile, or contemplate him like he's the greatest hero of history who just saved his life in a totally epic way. And Bakugou is about to ask, how do you do it, how do you make everything look so easy.
But once again, he can't, and turns over to face the bonfire.
"It's nothing," he mutters, and Kirishima doesn't speak again.
There's only the slow drag of their breathings left, fire shadows playing beneath eyelids and gentle fingertips fondling the back of his neck.
Sharing this on twitter and/or tumblr would be nice!
Tense buddies by Feh and soft cuties by Mi.
Thank you for reading!