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Few people knew Katsuki's favourite pass-times. Few people even fathomed the possibility that he, Lord Explosion Murder, would bother participating in any activities outside of his brooding and determination to obliterate all competition.
Though, yes, studying into the late afternoon (while denying being a 'fucking nerd') and sparring with Kirishima after class every Wednesday thoroughly clotted his already crowded schedule, he still found it within himself to find the time to just- relax. Chill.
While mountain climbing sounded absolutely incredible, he found it increasingly difficult to clear a space on his calendar for such a time-consuming outing.
He instead opted to indulge in some spirit-cleansing hiking during the cooler months, when he was less bound to sweat through his clothes not even a quarter of the way up the damn hill. It was on those occasions (during those cooler months) that he wholly allowed himself to take a breath, hold, and release. Allow his shoulders to lose their paranoid tension and feel the aches and rewards of tireless, hardcore training and work-outs.
The peace a mountainside could deliver Katsuki was sacred to him. It was his solace in his shitty world of consistent threat and competition. The awareness and frustrations of his own failures were absent here. Only the essence of life in the infinite churning of the universe.
Peace, of such a kind, that he found himself unable to replicate through any other activity.
That was, however, until he discovered himself wedged in the centre of a bit of a predicament.
Inwardly, he recognised his habit of only occasionally granting his body permission to relax was in no way healthy. He knew that.
But it was better reserved for when he could openly bask in the warmth of the sun, in the silence, amongst the wilderness. Lose himself in the currents of hushed whispers of the forest. Drift on the scent of damp soil and the spray of a rushing stream.
And occasionally, he acknowledged the emptiness beside him, on his perch atop a cliff overlooking the sea. Like a void of silence; the absence of a sound – or a presence – he couldn’t place.
Not for the longest time, anyway.
But when it finally occurred to him, the realisation stunned him; that the space, this absence, was usually occupied by Kirishima.
Fittingly, it was heavily overcast that particular day, heavy clouds draping curtains of rain across the horizon. There was no sunlight to grace his face, no bright warmth to draw the chill from his body. The breeze was just a tad too frosty to be pleasant.
It was, to be honest, a pretty shitty morning to be wondering the side of a mountain. Alone.
And with that he realised, ashamedly bashfully, that he missed him. He missed Kirishima.
Because, Eijirou Kirishima was, to summarise in a single phrase, a 'literal ray of sunshine'. And not just any ray of sunshine, no.
Eijirou Kirishima was the embodiment of that mid-morning warmth, with his blindingly broad smile - those glittery vermillion irises with such raw and everchanging emotions.
Eijirou Kirishima, with his stupidly endearing volume of voice. His wide and boisterous expressions partnered with that fascinating way he makes an individual feel important and quite simply listened to just by the way his eyes focus in on them so intently when they speak. The softness of his touch, his rough hands, when he reaches to comfort a friend with the simplest clap on the shoulder.
Katsuki never lacked sunshine in his life per-se, but Eijirou’s presence as not only his equal, but as his best friend and companion had brought him to the gradual realisation of just how cold and devoid of luminance his days prior to U.A. were. Between his brutal goals of becoming the indisputable No.1 Hero, his cold and explosive demeanour to maintain, and his inferiority complex, there was no space for these invading thoughts.
Thoughts, for instance, about how fucking cute Eijirou looked when he was running late to Homeroom, thus having no time to spike his hair.
There was no time to compute that strange buzz in his skin when their hands would brush together during their study sessions, or when their shoulders bumped as they walked to class together.
Especially that tingling heat that would flush throughout the entirety of his body when Eijirou draped his arm across his shoulders. Or when that heat rebounded and made him warmer still when Eijirou would lean his face closer to murmur or snicker something cheesy in his ear, his breath fanning against the expanse of his flushed neck.
Katsuki refused to acknowledge that irritating aching pang that would erupt within the depth of his chest, pressing right against his lungs, when Eijirou leaned in close to another of his close friends. The sensation worsened when he smiled like that with that determined glint in his eye at that metal Quirk fucker from Class 1-B.
He didn’t bother to understand why he felt so cold in Eijirou’s absence, like the warmth of the sun had been leeched from the world every damn time they bid each other goodnight. Similar to that damp morning atop that cliff.
Like his body depended on those slight, fleeting touches at the dining hall, or Eijirou’s arm pressed against his shoulder for warmth, for grounding comfort, and for the longest time, Katsuki hated it. Hated how his body was betraying him with feelings and sensations he had never experienced before.
Tried to cancel out the thoughts and contemplations, the craving for Eijirou’s accidental and intentional touches both. Failed to suppress the fantasies that accompanied overwhelmingly powerful things he never felt before; things of which Katsuki was silently embarrassed to so much as even remember.
But most importantly, he, not once, let himself hope. He convinced himself Eijirou was happier without his sharp edges; ‘better off’ without his dangerous and consistent habit of positively seething for seemingly no particular reason.
Eijirou deserved someone who would openly compliment his definite progression. Someone that would strive to prove their adoration for the aspiring Hero, someone that would encourage his ‘manliness’ and appreciate everything that made Eijirou, Eijirou.
***
Katsuki knew he was literally the last person anyone would seek to confide in, and yet, one night, after their second day of Third Year, Eijirou came knocking. Which, on the contrary, was not uncommon.
He expressed his concerns – their basis being his scores in exams during previous years, and how he might improve this year. Katsuki, of course, reprimanded his self-destructive talk that soon followed.
In his own way, that is.
With outbursts of sharp (encouraging) words and blunt facts that Eijirou was, in most, if not all aspects, far more capable than Eijirou himself believes. Allows himself to believe.
But following that bicker’s conclusion, Eijirou was still evidently troubled. That stupid brain of his was still mulling over an unspoken weight. Katsuki saw it in the crease of his brow, the distant focus of his gaze, his unconscious lip chewing (if he could stop that last part, that would be great).
And while it was fascinating, witnessing this boy adorably contemplate his internal jumble of thoughts, the anxiety on the surface of it all concerned Katsuki. Yes, concerned, because Eijirou was never this tense and unsure about voicing anything during their time alone.
Sometimes it was overwhelming, the sheer amount he can drabble on about anything and everything. Not that Katsuki minded.
Eijirou prided himself on his earned ability to read Katsuki, to decode his mouth when he fired off. Especially when Katsuki was (not so) obviously fighting an internal battle. It was like he kept a catalogue of ‘The Correct Things to Say When Bakugou Goes Into Meltdown’.
He always knew just how to get under Katsuki’s skin just enough, more than enough, to get him to spill the details.
Eijirou often forgot Katsuki had developed a talent for that too, but in reverse. The difference was his ability to find words. His monologue was crappy at best – a lot of exasperated sighs (at himself, the majority of the time) and sentences severed half-way.
Being ‘supportive’ certainly wasn’t his forte, and he was well aware of that, thank you. But once he successfully poked a hole in the emotional dam that was Eijirou Kirishima, his primary task was to listen. Something he excelled at.
So of course he was trained in the signs that something was bothering his Kiri.
But considering the late hour (they had class in the morning, for Christ sake!) and the defeated sigh Eijirou released that ultimately indicated their conversation was over, Katsuki decided it was best to dismiss it.
Just for tonight.
Tomorrow, he would drill into that head likely stuffed with more of his shitty dyed red hair, and adopt some of the weight himself. That’s what best friends were for, right?
Then, after a handful of moments of comfortable silence, he found himself smiling. Genuinely smiling – with an emotion so raw and exposed with the foreign gesture that settled itself across his face after confirming what Eijirou had just said.
“You know I’m in love with you, right?”
Eijirou had sounded so confused, like this was common knowledge. Like this was a fact that had been established long, long before he blatantly came out and just said it like it wasn’t at all a big fucking deal.
Initially, Katsuki just sat there. Like a fucking stunned mullet. He blinked once. Twice. Then, being the absolute charmer he was: “Hah?”
Eijirou chuckled then, suddenly sheepish as his gaze found anything but Katsuki’s.
Katsuki watched as Eijirou seemingly retreated back into himself impossibly further, having realised what he’d just admitted, out of fucking nowhere. His embarrassment spread across his face, bright and rosy as his hair. His internal conflict was baffling to witness.
Especially as a flurry of emotions crossed his beautifully flushed features until a grave sadness settled within his eyes. Though his characteristic lopsided grin remained, his overall air shifted so swiftly under the weight of his mistake. Under the realisation that this was, indeed, a big. Fucking. Deal.
“You- wait-“ Katsuki hated himself for stammering like a fucking idiot caught off-guard when he was, as plainly as anything, just that.
“Yeah,” Eijirou sighed, bringing his hands to rest in his lap. “I- yeah…”
Their eyes finally met, though for a second. Within that fleeting moment, Eijirou’s confidence rushed to return, his posture and overall expression hardening into a determined and pointed stare as he justified his ground-breaking statement.
If he were a man of words, he would have told Eijirou that his feelings needed no justifying; if he were a man of bold action (which he was, just not when it came to emotions or the boy he has been in love with since first year, holy shit!) he would have shut him up with a haste kiss.
Instead, his body betrayed him yet again. Despite his best efforts, the grin sweeping across his face would not leave, would not die, would not disconnect from this feeling in his gut, in his chest, everywhere. It ached, it hurt so sweetly. He didn’t know what to do with it.
He was no longer looking at Eijirou and his redden cheeks, or his exposed collarbones, or the way his beautifully toned biceps just worked being hugged by that pain, orange Tee.
He was turning his face away, hiding his relief, his surely manic grin. Trying so fucking hard to quell this blooming warmth and uncontainable happiness that Eijirou’s truth had welled up within him.
Partially, he wished the weight that had suddenly lifted from his world would return, blanket him, smother this joy he was experiencing because no, this wasn’t meant to happen.
He was never meant to love me back.
He was meant to find someone better.
Eijirou shifted on the bed, scooting closer, but not close enough.
“Hey, are you alright? I’m sorry about springing that on you so suddenly.” There was a pause and Katsuki heard – felt – Eijirou inhale.
“I can leave if you want.”
He sounded hesitant, distantly hurt through his confident facade.
“I mean, it’s like, way past your bedtime, so,” The dip in the bed where Eijirou was seated slowly lifted, like he was afraid of startling Katsuki back into himself, tipping him to explode. Frightened of something distinctly Bakugou. “Yeah I’ll- I’ll go. Goodnight, Baku-“
“Just wait a fucking minute, Christ.” Pressing past his current internal dilemma (because how the fuck does one even respond to a love confession?) Katsuki finally, finally brought himself to face the other boy.
Upon seeing how eager Eijirou was to retreat away from the misinterpreted reaction, from this whole situation of love and fucking emotions, from Katsuki, he felt panic rise within himself.
Simultaneously as a sense of dread washed over and throughout his entire being. And with that horrid wave went his weird, giddy smile.
He could very well fuck this up – something so good and wholesome – before it even had the chance to flourish. He felt he already had, given that he’d unknowingly, unintentionally made this perfectly imperfect ray of absolute sunshine fall in love with him.
He could lose Eijirou. All because of his next choice of words.
“Why are you running so fast?” Okay – not the finest sentence he could have settled with.
“You looked like you were in literal pain, dude. I’d prefer leaving U.A. alive, you know what I’m saying?” Eijirou shifted closer to the wall, leant against it and folded his arms over his chest, defensively, uncomfortably.
Katsuki was alarmed, realising this was the first time Eijirou was so evidentially discomforted around him, by him. That his lack of better words caused this.
That his persona, his tendency to explode when confronted with anything more than what he had grown accustomed to, caused this distance to erupt between them.
All because of a single moment and a choice of words.
“Shit, well, I was – well, not really, but yeah. My chest feels weird every time you as much as fucking look at me. Needed a second to breathe.” Katsuki gestured (exaggerated) to his torso, still on his bed with his legs crossed, and realising that he was beginning to tremble. He brought his hand down to rest on his thigh with a sharp slap.
“And I’ve been trying to work out how to tell you that I feel the same.”
(That last part was not meek and quiet, thank you.)
Though he would never account to it, Katsuki shied his face away from Eijirou for the second time that night, afraid of what reaction his words may have provoked.
“Are you serious?”
Though Katsuki was momentarily offended that his feelings were questioned, the renewed tone of hope in Eijirou’s voice brought him to regret his bashfulness.
He’d missed seeing his face lift, his eyes light up with the brightest of constellations, like his greatest wish had just been granted.
“Of course I’m being serious! When am I not?” Katsuki, currently more concerned with silently assuring Eijirou that he could come back, should come back (please, come back), failed to quell the upcoming popping in his palms.
His Quirk illuminated his corner of the room, disorienting flashes fleeting but enough to leave an impression in his vision. The sudden intrusion of sound startled him. But the jolt of his body that accompanied the fright grounded him, if only for a moment.
He came to the realisation that, outwardly, he must appear completely offended. That, despite his mumbled words of honest vulnerability, nothing he expressed would seem sincere.
But this crushing ache in his chest cavity just wouldn’t fucking go away, his hands wouldn’t stop trembling, his face felt impossibly warm (was it getting warm in there?) and, great, now he felt queasy.
What the hell is wrong with me?
But Eijirou approached – not reluctantly, but not exactly enthusiastically, either – and settled himself back on the bed, across from Katsuki again.
Under normal circumstances, on a regular afternoon, after class and training, Eijirou would happily settle himself, cross-legged, against Katsuki’s wall, a pillow stuffed behind his lower back. Completely at ease, entirely comfortable, despite Katsuki’s half-hearted protests.
He would make himself at home, in Katsuki’s room, on Katsuki’s bed, using Katsuki’s pillow, leaving the sheets with a lingering of his unique combination of scents that could only be described as Eijirou.
This time, Eijirou positioned himself awkwardly; half on the bed, a leg folded beneath him, the other draped over the edge as if prepared to stand and retreat again. As if he were geared to flee from the situation.
From Katsuki.
And though Eijirou hadn’t gotten far – only reached the opposite side of the room, by the door – Katsuki doubted he could handle the saddened expression Eijirou sported on his stupidly perfect face.
And the knowledge that he had caused that hurt? It would positively ruin him.
“Look, I-“ Eijirou sighed, turning his body toward Katsuki, trying in vain to communicate with wide swoops of his hands. Katsuki watched as his fists clenched, unclenched, clenched – his nails producing crescent indentations in his palms. The idiot hadn’t hardened his skin before bruising himself, Katsuki noted distantly.
“I always preach about ‘manliness’ and ‘living a life without regrets’- my idol said that, for fuck sakes, and I-“ Eijirou paused again, briefly glancing up and away. “I haven’t really been honest with myself.”
The last of his words grew increasingly quiet.
Eijirou, during Katsuki’s trying times of verbally expressing himself, would remain idle, silent and patient. Allow Katsuki the time to search for the appropriate words.
So Katsuki did just that. Normally, he would push the remainder of whatever someone had to say from them because, really, he couldn’t spare the patience to wait any longer than necessary.
But Eijirou, this boy, made him so fucking soft on a regular basis. He understood his power over this situation was limited. Eijirou was in the spotlight right now; Katsuki just had to wait for the words he hoped would follow. Wanted to follow.
Having seen this, Katsuki’s sudden shift in demeanour (though he was undeniably tense), Eijirou inhaled deeply before continuing.
“I’ve had- I think I’ve known. For a while."
“Known what?” Katsuki asked with an unintentional dose of his typical bite. His own tone surprised him and he internally winced.
“That there was something.” Eijirou paused again, staring at Katsuki expectantly. When a frown was his only response, he said; “Something between us. Or at least that what I’ve been feeling for you went way beyond platonic, like, a year ago.” Eijirou chuckled shortly. “But I don’t know if I’m just seeing what I want to see? Does that make sense?”
Katsuki’s eyes followed the lines of his face, contorting as he frowned, scrunching his nose in an almost constipated expression. He let loose a short chuckle of his own, a breath that passed through his nose in a short burst of air.
“It makes sense.”
There was a brief moment of silence, though the tension between them had shifted to something less uncomfortable. More… awkward? Expectant? Or maybe the urge to just lean over and kiss the fucker was a little more overwhelming than usual.
“So,” Eijirou paused again, considering his next words. Katsuki chose to ignore the tremble present in his voice. “Whatever you have to say to me, I’d prefer it if we got this over and done with so I can move on already. Because I don’t want this shit to affect our friendship. You’re my best bro, you know? I don’t know how I’d get through school without you.”
A genuine, light-hearted chuckle fell from his lips. His hand, reddened from wringing his fingers together, reached up to rub at his neck. Eijirou’s trademark nervous habit.
Katsuki knew what was coming next. What nature of thoughts were already beginning to stir behind his friend’s eyes. It was his turn to speak, to sever those blooming self-destructive and resurfacing doubts that he was enough, when he was.
He was more than enough.
More than Katsuki deserved in every fathomable way possible.
“You seriously don’t fucking believe me, do you?” Katsuki asked, warily.
Eijirou levelled his gaze with him then, with a quirked eyebrow indicating his uncertainly.
A little exasperated, Katsuki gestured to him.
“You went and asked me if I was being serious – which I always am – and I meant what I said. And- and you know I’m not great at this whole ‘talking about feelings’ shit. It’s like there’s never a right time to say these things.”
Eijirou chuckled with a shake of his head. “You could say that again.”
And just as suddenly as Katsuki’s explosions erupted just minutes before, Eijirou’s hopelessly adorable lopsided grin was back, rightfully in its place as a source of Katsuki’s sunshine.
***
Katsuki, unwilling to trust his mouth to communicate what he wanted – needed – Eijirou to understand, sank into allowing his body to convey his love for his boyfriend.
Eijirou was pleasantly surprised to discover that Katsuki was quite a cuddler.
And while Eijirou could discuss the events of his day out doing Hero work at his internship, Katsuki would latch onto his waist and snuggle his stress away.
If it weren’t through tender touches, gentle caresses, delicately soft kisses or other, bolder, intimate displays of affection, they would spar the stress out of each other at Ground Beta.
They fell into a rhythm. Of time together, of time for each other. Of time apart to fulfil their duties as U.A.’s most elite students, and time for their own space, to practise hobbies and relax. Chill.
Given Katsuki’s reputation, his constant awareness, constant need to be occupied with an activity, few people figured that he would partake in anything so mundane, so natural and domestic, as lounging around with his boyfriend.
All knew both boys to be active, energetic individuals (however differently they displayed their energy) who found exercising relaxing. While that was true, and while Katsuki still soundly loved mountain climbing (especially when Eijirou ‘begs’ to join), he found himself wishing he could be here during his free time
Here, lying with his head nestled in Eijirou’s lap, contently drifting within a state of light, dream-graced sleep.
With Eijirou tracing directionless, momentary patterns onto his skin with the smooth, blunt end of a pencil while absentmindedly swirling strands of Katsuki’s hair between his stout fingers.
Katsuki, absorbing the warmth he had denied himself for two whole years.
Once unknowingly terrified of allowing himself to accept what his feelings meant, now openly appreciating everything offered to him in the form of his mid-morning sunlight incarnate. He silently cherished every moment, every breath, every realisation of holy shit, I love this dork when Eijirou would complain, having answered a math problem incorrectly.
God help me, Katsuki would think as he would witness Eijirou smiling like that as he devoted his attention to the blessed individual he would be speaking to.
Katsuki jolted awake, having realised the object softly tracing his skin had ceased contact. A soft chuckle followed from above. Shifting slightly, he turned to glare up at his boyfriend and was met with such an adoring gaze, framed by unusually long, thick, black lashes.
Lashes that fanned against the highest curves of his cheeks when he grinned so intently, his eyes squeezed shut.
“What’re you laughing at, Hair-For-Brains?” Katsuki rasped, voice thick and rough from the confines of a sleep now absent.
Eijirou, tilting his head ever so slightly, sported a gentle grin; the kind reserved for Katsuki, and Katsuki alone.
“Nothing. Just thinking about how much I love you, is all.”
With a barely audible tch, Katsuki rolled back into his previous position, nestling himself further, letting his eyes flutter closed once more with a content sigh.
“Love you too.” He murmured, feeling himself smile at the truth their shared words held. “Idiot.”
Eijirou shifted below and above him, snorting a brief laugh.
“Gotta maintain that grump aesthetic, huh?”
“You know it.”
Katsuki would swear through and through that he would not only know but feel Eijirou’s smile, whether from across the room or with his head in his lap, gently easing back into a light sleep as his boyfriend resumed his absentminded tracing.
He would be least surprised if Eijirou possessed a secondary Quirk of a kind, one that empowered his smile. The broader, the brighter, thus the more energy projected.
He was a ray of sunshine. Everyone could attest to that.
But he was Katsuki’s source of warmth. Cheesy as it was.
So as Eijirou grinned down at the man he loved, sighing with admiring disbelief that he had made the great Katsuki Bakugou, Lord Explosion Murder, fall for him of all people, Katsuki knew.
He could feel that warmth radiating, encompassing him with a sense of peace nothing could replicate.
Because when Eijirou beamed, he beamed, in every sense of the word.