A/N - This fic has fanart now! :D

Tumblr user zoluffs drew a scene from Chapter 6 and another scene from Chapter 9! You can find these on this person's Tumblr!

Twitter handle kirisbaku also drew a scene from Chapter 9! You can find it on this person's Twitter!

Please support the artists by checking these out! And if anyone else has made fanart, or if you just want to get in touch, please please let me know at my BNHA tumblr, hi-im-deku !

With a rather unattractive snort, Eijirou abruptly awoke. He cracked his eyelids open, taking in the faint blue glow of very early morning. Peering over a tuff of blond hair, he blinked at a poster –- his poster, on the wall over his bed, 'Certain Victory!'. Eijirou hummed. His motivational posters always gave him a reason to smile.

As his other senses slowly came into focus, he heard a soft snore coming from between his arms. He could feel his chest against Bakugou's back, could feel the way his knees were tucked up into Bakugou's. And wow, this was the first time they had ever spooned, and it was almost too intimate, but it was so early and Bakugou was still asleep. Eijirou figured that he could forgive it just this once.

But his left arm was numb from the dead weight that lay on it, and it was starting to hurt – maybe that had been what woke him up in the first place. He tried wiggling his fingers, willing feeling to return to them. The tingling was uncomfortable at first, but he began to regain some muted sensations when…

Eijirou gasped, and every drop of blood in his veins turned to ice. Bakugou's hand was resting in his own.

No. No, no, no.

Sleeping and cuddling for mutual comfort was one thing. But holding hands in their sleep – oh god, they were holding hands – that was another thing altogether. He couldn't allow himself to do this to his bro, or to himself. He had to stop this.

After tearing his hand away from Bakugou's, Eijirou tried pulling his arm out from beneath the dead weight, in too much of a determined fright to really care if Bakugou's sleep was disturbed. He shuffled away, giving Bakugou as much personal space as possible, scooching as far back as he could, he had to keep his distance—

Thunk.

Eijirou yelped, his quirk activating a second too late as a flash of pain turned his world white. Oh god, oh god he couldn't breathe, why couldn't he breathe? It was like the wind had been knocked out of him or something. He sat up, his chest heaving has he struggled to take in air, rubbing the back of his head, whimpering at the echoing ache in his skull. Disoriented, he looking up from where he was on the floor.

On the floor?

There was a long groan, followed the creaking of weight shifting on the mattress.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

At the voice, Eijirou froze. Slowly, slowly, he brought his head up and peered over the side of the bed. Bakugou was awake, facing him now, eyes tired and annoyed. No, more like amused.

"I, uh," Eijirou gasped, still struggling to regulate his breathing. He scratched the back of his neck, trying to cover his pained wince by glancing unassumingly around the room. "I fell out of bed."

"No shit, I fucking gathered that much." Bakugou glanced out the window, and then with a grunt, brought his hands to cover his face. "The fuck, fuckin' seriously, Kirishima, it's like the ass-crack of dawn, now's not time for you to have some weird freak-out moment," the blond mumbled, probably still half-asleep. He rubbed at his eyes. "Fuck. You tugged all the fucking covers down with you too, asshole."

"Heh, sorry, sorry…"

"Just get the fuck up here and go the fuck to sleep. Fuck."

With the glare that Bakugou was giving him, Eijirou didn't need to be told twice. So he scrambled up as quickly as he could, bundling the blankets in his arms and dropping them haphazardly onto the bed. Then he crawled underneath them, being very mindful of where his and Bakugou's bodies were.

He couldn't put himself in a position where that morning's mistake could happen again, even subconsciously. So he turned his back to Bakugou, curling in on himself, trying to stay on his side of the bed. Which was difficult, considering it was a twin. In previous nights they hadn't even bothered with personal space, so the small mattress had never been a problem, but now… Well. It was different now.

"You're a goddamn klutz is what you are, honestly…" he heard Bakugou continue to murmur behind him. "You made us lose all of that stored-up heat."

There was the shifting of covers, then the shifting of a body, and then Bakugou was behind him, arms wrapping around his, slowly tugging himself closer, closer, until their bodies were completely flush against each other. And Eijirou could hear the pounding of his pulse in his ears, could physically feel his stunned brain turn into goop.

"Sounded like it fucking hurt, you sure your head's okay?"

And honestly, how was Eijirou supposed to be able to respond to any of this? It was like 5 in the morning, his head was still pounding from his fall, and now the two of them were just so close, and Bakugou was okay with it – not only that, Bakugou had initiated it… It was a lot to process.

"Hey, you there?" Bakugou sat up a little, propping himself on his elbow, looking down at Eijirou with concern. Concern. "You're being too fucking quiet, it's starting to freak me out. You aren't, like, concussed or something, are you?"

"No, no, I'm… fine, I'm…" Eijirou glanced up to meet Bakugou's eyes, and his thoughts were lost all over again. "I'm great," he managed to breathe out.

Bakugou raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, before plopping back onto the mattress, wrapping him in an embrace again. "'Cuz seriously," his voice rumbled as he made himself comfortable, "it takes me ages to wear you down in battle training, so you getting KO'd by falling out of a goddamn bed would be pretty fucking embarrassing. Not sure I could respect you after something like that, ya know."

The slight tittering hum that followed Bakugou's words, the tightening of arms around his torso, reassured Eijirou that it was just a joke. So he let out a huff, his lips pursed in an amused pout. Bakugou was just being his snarky self, like always. As if all of this was completely normal.

Eijirou frowned.

Bakugou still didn't know. He didn't know how warm his voice made Eijirou feel. He didn't know how giddy Eijirou became whenever they were this close. How much he longed to be closer still. He didn't know the shame Bakugou felt in keeping his true feelings a secret while sharing something as intimate as this.

"… Bakugou?"

"Shh," the blond mumbled, crankily, burying his nose in Eijirou's hair. "Go the fuck to sleep."

With a demand like that, how could he refuse? But, before nodding off again, Eijirou made a decision – one that terrified him, but he was too determined to back down. Come morning, real morning, he had some confessions to make.

And late morning came all too soon, the sunlight blaring through the window harsh enough to wake Eijirou up on its own. He opened his eyes open groggily, trying to blink away the sting that the bright light caused. Immediately, his vision fell on Bakugou's sleeping face. There must have been more shifting in their sleep because they were now facing each other, and Eijirou couldn't stop himself from staring in wonder.

It wasn't like this was anything new. Eijirou had seen this view, over and over again, just a week or two ago. But he had seriously taken it for granted. Now, with his feelings realized, it was so much more striking. And the thought crossed his mind that he could get used to this. That this was the sight he wanted to wake up to every morning, for… well, forever.

And then, his heart was drowning.

Eijirou was the type of guy who, once he made up his mind, would follow through with a particularly steely resolve. He couldn't stand not telling Bakugou how he felt, not for a day longer. Today was the day, he had decided, and he wasn't going to chicken out no matter how nauseatingly nervous his mission made him feel. But, depending on how Bakugou takes his confession…

Eijirou looked on, realization setting in, trying his best to smother the stinging tears before they could even start.

… Depending on how Bakugou takes his confession, this could be their last morning together like this.

And, well... He could let himself savor this moment for just a little longer.

So that's exactly what Eijirou did. He gave himself this one morning, possibly one last morning, to just feel. He let himself melt into that instant, taking note of every sensation, trying his best to imprint them into his memory. The way their legs were intertwined with each other, the way they were breathing in tandem, the way Bakugou's eyelashes gently fluttered when he dreamed. The way his hands grasped limply at the back of Eijirou's shirt, even in his sleep, just barely pulling them closer together, almost as if he too didn't want to let go. Eijirou didn't want to let go either. Not for anything. Not ever.

I love you.

His lips formed the words on their own, without even the ghosting of a voice to accompany them, and his arms were shaking, trembling from the weight of his silent declaration. Oh how badly he wanted to bring his hand up, gently touch Bakugou's cheek. He clenched his fingers into a fist, holding himself back.

I love you.

It was becoming easier to think. Easier to say. But it still made the butterflies in his stomach flap with new passion. It was so intense to even whisper, but Eijirou felt more at peace with his feelings now than he had even the night before. Perhaps, he really had needed the past week to come to terms with how he felt, all on his own.

I love you.

He mouthed it again. And again. And again, taking these last few moments before Bakugou awoke to imagine exactly what it would feel like to actually say the words out loud. Just these voiceless admissions were enough to make Eijirou feel giddy and breathless and just a little bit woozy. He never wanted to forget any of it.

Gradually, the body in his arms shifted, followed by a low groan. Eijirou watched as Bakugou's nose scrunched, eyebrows pinched together, in a way that was just so cute. And wow, Eijirou's sense of alarm must have been delayed because, before he had the chance to play possum, red eyes blinked open and promptly found his own. And the thought crossed his mind that maybe he should feel a little bit embarrassed at having been caught staring, but the moment their eyes met, his hesitation faded away. Because Bakugou was staring at him, too.

And not in a 'What the hell are you looking at, fuck-munch' type of way, either. In a way that Eijirou could only describe as wondrous.

Wow, wow, wow. It felt as though Eijirou was in a dream. His heart was thrumming, beating, maybe Bakugou's was too – and he couldn't help himself, his eyes wandered, following the curve of Bakugou's jaw, the slope of his cheekbone. He allowed himself to study the Bakugou's hair as it flitted onto his pillow, he studied how red eyes contrasted with the soft cream of his skin. His eyes explored the filtering of sunlight through Bakugou's hair, the way his expression was at-ease, radiating content.

He was just so beautiful.

Was that an okay thing to think? In hesitation, his gaze flickered back to catch Bakugou's, but the look in his eyes eased any lingering doubts. It was almost as if he was just as entranced as Eijirou was. No words were exchanged, none had to be. There was no sense of shamefulness, only this shared awe as the two silently gazed on, soaking in every trait, every feature of the other, as if they were scared that they might never see each other again.

But then, Bakugou blinked, as if his eyes were only focusing for the first time. He looked away awkwardly, a blush on his cheeks, and Eijirou's stomach dropped. Was this too much?

Bakugou began sitting up. "You gotta move, I need to go to the bathroom."

Oh. "Right."

And just like that, in a single instant, whatever magic spell had been cast over them was broken. Of course, with a reason like that, it couldn't be helped. So Eijirou sat up, giving Bakugou room to more easily maneuver around him. The blond's feet found the floor and Eijirou watched him pad to the restroom, the door closing firmly behind him.

And as soon as he was alone, Eijirou buried his face in his hands, hoping to ease the fiery blush that had taken over his cheeks. Oh god, they had been so close. Oh god, what had he been thinking? He took deep, shaky breaths to slow his racing heart, gently smacking his cheeks a few times, snap out of it. As he heard the faucet running, Eijirou straightened up, trying his best to preserve a nonchalant attitude even as his pulse was pounding wildly out of control.

The door creaked open, footsteps making their way across the room, and Bakugou's voice casually rang out. "What was up with falling out of bed this morning, anyways?" He began crawling onto the bed. "Not gonna lie, you scared the shit out of me when you hit the floor."

Eijirou shrugged, distracted eyes trailing a stray particle of dust that was highlighted by the sun's rays. Anything to calm his panicking nerves.

"Damn, not even an apology?" Bakugou studied the redhead with an eyebrow quirked. "Come on, that's not fucking like you at all. Something bothering you?"

And at that, Eijirou turned to him in surprise. Bakugou was a lot more perceptive than he let on. "Actually, um. Yeah." His pulse pounded in his ears. It was maddening.

Bakugou paused, giving Eijirou a probing look, one that was full of apprehension. One that prompted Eijirou to continue. And oh god, oh god, this was happening. This was happening now.

" Yeah, I… I need to talk to you about something."

Eijirou leaned back against the headboard, feet planted firmly on the mattress. He motioned for Bakugou to follow suit. The blond complied, taking a seat next to him, watching him, carefully, and good lord his gaze was piercing. Eijirou couldn't meet him in the eye, couldn't bear to see red irises staring into his soul. His stomach was doing flip-flips, and for a moment he wondered if Bakugou could see how he was shaking. Surely he could. Eijirou inhaled, struggling to maintain any sense of composure.

"You gonna spit it out or not?"

Too late to back out now. "Sorry, sorry, it's just…" For a second, it felt as though he had lost his voice. It was stuck in his throat, and his stomach was twisting, churning, like he was going to be sick. "… It's kind-of a big deal."

"You don't fucking have to apologize, stop freakin' me out," Bakugou mumbled, and by now, his concern was nearly palpable, even as he was trying to conceal it underneath a more passive frown. He shrugged, "'S not like I got anywhere to be, so whenever you're ready."

And… he was ready. This was happening, now, and that was okay. Eijirou nodded, staring blankly ahead. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs, willing, praying for his mouth to work.

"Um. I like you."

The room became still. So still that a pin could drop and it would sound like the bang of a brass gong. Eijirou's voice echoed around the room, pressing against his eardrums, or maybe that was just all in his head, but it was unbearable. He looked down, watching how his hands were trembling in his lap.

"You… What?" Bakugou finally squeaked out.

"I like you, Bakugou."

And if it didn't feel quite real before, it certainly did now. The realness of the situation crashed down on Eijirou's shoulders all at once. All of the anxiety, the implication of what he had done sending his nerves on a rampage, filling him with the unquenchable urge to justify himself.

"I don't know when it started, I really don't." His mouth wasn't his own any more, spewing words like a spout that wouldn't shut off. "But when I finally understood these feelings that I've been having for days, weeks, it started haunting me, made me feel like I was taking advantage of you, so I had to come clean."

"Kirishima…"

"You're my best friend, Bakugou. You're my best friend and I care about you, so much, and that won't change. That'll never change, ever, there's just... more to it now. And I don't want that to ruin our relationship, but if that makes you uncomfortable, then I understand—"

"Kirishima."

"—But I can't lie to you anymore. I want to be your friend, and help you, and do all the things we did before, but I also want to go on dates with you. I want to hold your hand and kiss you and I-I… I…"

"Eijirou."

There was more. Dammit, there was still more, but at the sound of his name, the words stopped. Eijirou took a deep breath, battling the lightheadedness that threatened to consume him.

"Yes?" he choked out.

He peeked a glance at Bakugou, which was a mistake. Bakugou was just blinking at him slowly with wide, disbelieving eyes, his cheeks pale, jaw set, remaining pointedly silent as if his brain was full of static.

The atmosphere was too stale, too suffocating. Eijirou couldn't stand it. He closed his eyes, feeling the familiar sting of waterworks under his lids. And he waited for Bakugou to respond with something, anything. Rejection was better than silence.

"Please say something," his voice cracked, barely straining above a whisper.

There was a shifting on the mattress.

And then, lips gently pressed against his own.