Archive of Our Own

Eijirou is a mature person. At least he considers himself to be one. Since he was a kid, he always knew how to handle difficult situations because his mothers were always open to his feelings. 

So, allow him to have days where he knows he's doing something he's not supposed to, yet he doesn’t want to stop—just can’t bring himself to do so. 

When he met Bakugou, the first thing he thought was how intelligent, manly, and interesting that guy was.

Eijirou’s life was completely flipped. 

Bakugou is a complicated guy. The type of person someone doesn't see easily, but could always hear him nearby, as if you couldn't escape his presence. Despite his drive, he is somehow able to maintain his basic principles and shark mind, something that only a few men can achieve.

Convincing him to stay by his side wasn't easy. Many times, the redhead had to battle with the stupid things the blond did, especially because the latter was stubborn.

It was something that marked their relationship, a turning point that made both men try to understand each other as years passed by, especially since Katsuki didn't really try to make any friends more than necessary, causing Eijirou to involve him in social activities—whether the blond liked it or not.

It was their thing, and even though Kirishima wanted more than a relationship, he knew how privileged he was to even be close to the blond, the sole reason being that Katsuki chose him out of all because he earned his respect.

Friends was cool, more than cool actually (Eijirou was not the kind to push his luck, no matter how unmanly that was for others, he had values—still does, thank you very much). Maybe he wanted something more, but based on how the blond reacted whenever crushes came up, he knew it was a dumb thing to even think about.

He could live like that, probably would even find a new crush next school year. He didn't really care about that much either, he was just accepted to a big high school, and he needed to stay focused for his mothers.

Kirishima thought they would stay that way—as friends. However, on the first day of his second year of high school, Katsuki kissed him good morning.

It was a shy, brief kiss shared between the two of them, almost casual. He would describe it as the kind of kiss you could miss if you blinked at the wrong moment.

It marked his life completely, the fact that someone as proud as Katsuki would even think about being that vulnerable to someone, being that close to him. Katsuki kissed Eijirou for the first time of many, and the world changed colors, as his eyes had just opened.

His heart began to beat so loud it hurt his chest, and when Katsuki showed him how much he could actually love when no one was around, Eijirou let himself close his eyes and trust him. And fall.

Fall, maybe too deep for someone as young as him.

To nobody’s surprise, both men started dating right after that, going against probably the most basic, normal rule of Yuuei High School: No dating to avoid the lack of privacy once the paparazzi finds out. 

It didn’t matter, though, any of it, because after so many complaints about how he would never find his teenage love, Eijirou found someone who had his back.

Everything felt magical with the blond; their quirks weren't the only ones that stood out in their relationship when it came to compatibility.

His whole life was changed.

Fights between the couple were also common, almost always related to each other's safety or to Bakugou's unnecessary jealousy. However, they talked about their insecurities all the time. 

Katsuki was the first person Eijirou ever felt close to, to the point he opened himself in ways nobody else in the classroom did. In return, Bakugou did the same with him, and for the first time, Eijirou felt that he had something that others did not.

For the first time, Eijirou felt comprehended. He felt he was worth knowing things others didn’t, and was grateful for being granted the opportunity to share secrets with his boyfriend. Not only that, but for the first time, he felt confident in his strength. In what he could have. 

And it was all thanks to a certain blond—thanks to Bakugou. 

Yet, remembering those moments now hurts him more than any attack by a villain—especially knowing it was all gone. Just like Katsuki elevated him higher than anyone or anything else could, the blond also played a part in his downfall.

The breakup between the two boys was not the best; there were broken promises, tears, and things that neither of them really felt, but at the end of the day, it happened, and they did not communicate their feelings as they should have.

In fact, they did not talk to each other at all after that. 

It was when Bakugou gave up on him—their relationship—so easily that Eijirou realized how much a person can truly suffer.

Still, the redhead is proud to say that he has finally overcome any resentment, sadness, and romantic love he felt for Katsuki. The guy is a great person; the breakup was a bit—way too immature, so he didn't feel any hatred for how it ended, because they were both teenagers learning how to love.

He believes he has moved on from the situation, it wasn't anyone's fault, and everyone makes mistakes occasionally. Eijirou is fine with their current circumstances, even though he lied about completely letting go of the love he once felt for Katsuki. His reaction to the news that Katsuki has a partner revealed to his friends what he was truly experiencing.

Eijirou is well aware that after some time had passed since their breakup, Bakugou would start meeting other people, whether officially as something romantic or not. However, right now, he feels like an animal—possessive in ways he never knew he was capable of, wanting to get back something that was once his.

The redhead didn't take the news well, at least not when he realized the depth of the matter. To put it shortly, he was devastated. 

At first, when Kaminari mentioned the matter to him, Eijirou laughed, taking it lightly. They are both pro heroes now, going on dates from time to time happens, the redhead himself met a couple of people too, but that was all—dates without officializing anything, sometimes even sexual partners. 

He thought he knew Katsuki, which meant he thought that whatever was happening between that boy and the blond was casual. First of all, it was impossible to have anything serious with Bakugou, especially because it's difficult to get close to him without fearing for your life, and because the blond only opened up to Kirishima, no one else.

He could laugh at his past naivety right now. 

It was to be expected that this time everything would be different, from the tone of voice of his friend who gave him the news, to the hour when he was told that Bakugou had started meeting someone romantically.

Despite that, exactly what made him notice that maybe, just maybe, something was ‘off’ between that new guy and Katsuki is how he introduced him to his friends—all without knowing Kirishima was present. 

He doesn’t judge his choice, though; their breakup wasn’t something that ended on good terms, and they were both still kind of sore after what happened, so Katsuki's avoidance at all costs to tell the redhead about this new guy was okay.

What was weird was how he still mentioned that boy to the others, casually announcing he was dating someone new. 

“I know it’s kind of abrupt, Dunce Face,” Katsuki responded to Kaminari’s worried comment. “He’s a nice person, though, I think—fuck, you guys would like him.” 

Sero quirked his eyebrow, teasing the ashy blond. “Oh? What’s that? You care about our opinion, Blasty?” 

Kaminari laughed nervously, avoiding their friends’ eye contact. 

“It’s not that, Horse Teeth,” the blond clarified defensively. “He’s just—it might be serious, this time at least. He’s different.” 

There was silence for a moment. 

Eijirou wasn’t sure if it was the deafening beeping he was hearing that muffled any type of noise for at least five solid minutes. 

Kaminari coughed obnoxiously, clearly tense. “What—what do you mean differently, Bakugou? In what way?” 

“I think,” Katsuki started slowly, like he was accepting it while speaking, “that our relationship is worth making official. He’s a good person, has the guts not even some pro-heroes have.”

“Isn’t it a little too early, though?” Hanta interjected, voice full of worry. “Don’t get me wrong, man, I support you, but—last time wasn’t pretty for any of us, and Kirishima—”

Of course, they have to mention me, Eijirou thought bitterly.

“We’re both adults now, Sero,” Bakugou remarked curtly. “I’ll tell him when it’s time, he has the right to know, but for now, I wanted to tell y'all. I thought you’d be happy for me, what the hell?”  

“And we are, Bakugou!” Kaminari rushed to explain, waving his hands nervously in the air.  “We are very proud of you, but this is kind of a big step, isn’t it? I mean, officializing it—”

Katsuki scoffed at that, crossing his arms. “It’s been two years since I broke up with Eijirou. I think it’s time to move on, we’re still friends.” 

The tension in the room clearly grew, and even though Kirishima really wanted to avoid this situation, the last thing he wanted was to make his poor friends uncomfortable, so for the first time in a long time, he had the guts. He’s the fucking sturdy hero, goddamit. 

With a long inhale, he stepped into their view, surprising the three men who were currently trying to break the silence. 

He quickly met Kaminari's worried gaze, who shook his head briefly—eyes wide open. On the other hand, Bakugou and Sero remained motionless in their places for a few long seconds.

He coughed awkwardly, trying to stay calm. “Congratulations on your relationship, Blasty. I hope you guys last.” 

He didn’t recognize his own voice—unfaltered, yet cold and calculated, like when he’s making a deal with a new agency. He hates it.

Hanta and Denki looked away, remaining silent at his response. Katsuki, on the other hand, just cleared his throat, muttering a forced “thank you.”

Whether it was because of his stupidity or some Disney-esque part of Eijirou, the fact that the blond didn't want to explain anything to him or tell him that it wasn't serious stung in a way it shouldn’t. 

As soon as he realized the depth of the matter, he met that mysterious someone. There was no warning whatsoever; no one prepared him to meet that guy.

Well, it wasn't that fast, so what? Even if twenty years had gone by, he would never really be ready. 

A week had passed since he indirectly met Katsuki's new partner, and after that conversation, the ash-blond didn't mention his boyfriend again, not even when he thought Eijirou wasn't listening.

Something, maybe hope, maybe jealousy, made the redhead assume that Bakugou and his boyfriend had broken up, or at the very least, didn’t officialize it after all. 

His hopes seemed to be in vain, and he had to survive a dinner with the squad and this new person in lieu of reconciling with Katsuki. 

They didn’t even ask him how he felt, if he consented or not. 

They arrive at the destination with Kaminari, the two of them bickering over whether pesto or alfredo sauce reigned supreme—a discussion that would've struck a civilian as a weird topic for pro-heroes to indulge in during their free time.

And there he is. Katsuki. He’s not alone, obviously; their friends are also there.

But there’s also him, an unknown face that he already didn’t feel manly enough to stand being close to for the whole night.

This guy is breathtaking, to understate it. He has naturally red hair, almost orange in color, which reflects the light from the bar every time he moves. He has porcelain skin with some beauty marks adorning his face, which only enhances his appearance. Despite being masculine, his features are delicate, clearly showing that this boy was not a pro-hero like the others.

And, as if that weren't enough, he’s resting his legs dangerously close to Katsuki's, almost in his lap.

Which is fine, because that’s his new boyfriend, and Eijirou needs to get a grip. 

Kaminari, who is standing next to him, notices, because obviously he would notice. Slowly, he turns to look at Eijirou with a hint of sadness, silently assuring him that they could go home at any time, if that's what he wanted.

He frowns a little, trying to keep his cool for both Eijirou’s and Katsuki’s sake. “So, who’s the new guy, Blasty? I wasn’t aware that we were going to have more company.” 

Bakugou scoffs at that, acting more overprotective than he should, because nothing was going to happen, calm down. 

The latter smiles, tucking his hair behind his ear shyly, and it only reassures the redhead that yes, that man is fucking pretty. 

“I’m Kirishima Eijirou,” he starts introducing himself, before he could even turn around to leave. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

The boy turns slightly to look at the ash blond, who just smiles at him, slowly lowering his arm to wrap the other’s waist.

And it’s one of those smiles that meant so much to both of them back then, when they were still dating. It was something that helped Kirishima fall asleep calmly at night, knowing Bakugou had his back. 

It was meant to be a silent ‘I’m here, you’re fine.’

“I’m Hiroo,” the guy greets him silently. “I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re a fan’s favorite, right?” 

And if Hiroo knows about him, it clearly means he also knows about—

“Kinda.” Great Eijirou, you totally should've said that. Completely normal. "I'm known for uh… my… hardening."

He really needs to get a grip.

Hiroo smiles at that, nodding slowly. "I've seen you before in the news, it's nice to finally meet chilvarous heroes."

Katsuki scoffs at that, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. "You've met chivalrous heroes before, me."

"Sure, sure," Hiroo replies. "Keep dreamin', pretty boy."

Fuck my life. Kirishima stands still, clearly uncomfortable. He needs to go, he needs to—

"Funny," Eijirou mutters sheepishly. turning around to face Mina. “Hey, wanna go to the restroom? Something’s caught on my jacket.”

The pink-haired woman blinks, caught off guard. "Something—right! Yeah, sure. Look, there's space there where nobody goes. Follow me!"

It's stiff and poorly planned out, but he thanks Mina for being his getaway car. Bless her beautiful soul.

Of course, there isn’t anything caught on his clothing. He just needs to leave. 

Who wouldn’t? He scoffs silently, already leaving with his very much confused, loyal friend. 

The place isn’t the mess Eijirou expected to find. Even though the recent interaction ruined almost all of his desire to be there, the redhead preferred to stay because 1) he wouldn't let Bakugou know how he really felt, because it's a little embarrassing to say no, he still can't get over him or what they had, and 2) the place is interesting—almost nice. 

A few people are sitting on chairs close to his friends, without quite recognizing them as heroes, slightly obscuring the lighting coming from the bar. What interested him most was the fact that the bar had a red aesthetic, which he didn't want to think too much about, considering that Katsuki was the one who recommended the place.

Eijirou tilts his head at the thought and mutters to himself, not everything has to be a hint.

The lighting didn't help the situation, which made the walk to the bathroom difficult. The restroom is relatively empty considering how many people were there that night. Ashido, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying the fact that there were no people around a little too much, jumping around as if she had already had at least four drinks, which shouldn't be surprising, knowing the girl, but damn, it's only eight o'clock.

The less, the better, he cogitates, dismissing the idea.

He hears a throat clearing, causing him to turn around. “Huh? What—”

He meets his friend’s judging gaze. 

“Eijirou, Ei, what the hell was that?” Ashido scolds, crossing her arms. “You’re being anything but subtle. I don’t wanna see you humiliate yourself the whole night. I’m here to drink!”

Eijirou chokes at the accusation, desperately beating his chest. “I— wait, what? Is it that obvious? D’you think he knows?” 

It is painfully obvious that the pink-haired woman knew the answer, biting her lip lightly.

“It is, I think he knows, and this is why he didn’t want to tell you, my god. I tried to convince him that you were prepared, but,” she winces, turning around. “I guess not.” 

He frowns, snapping out of his small crisis after hearing what his pink-haired friend stuttered. 

“Wait,” he stops her by placing his hand on her shoulder, his gaze hardening with disbelief. “You knew about this? And you didn’t tell me? Since when—how do you know about this? What did he say?”

Something shifts in the atmosphere, and in return, he receives a pity look from his friend, knowing that he won’t like her answer. 

It’s the same look she gave him when the redhead told her about their messy breakup. 

“Eiji,” she mutters slowly, mocking him by trying to comfort him, “he… really likes this guy, since the moment they’ve met, and I—”

“He doesn’t,” Kirishima retorts aggressively fast. “I know him, and this—it isn’t something he usually does; he doesn’t like him like that yet, it’s hard to—”

“Baby,” she whispers, slowly placing her hand on the redhead's right cheek. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Eijirou shakes his head in denial. “No, Mimi, this isn’t—please, it’s not, okay? Not yet.”

Ashido sighs at his response, her hands flopping down to his shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkles in his jacket. “You can tell me if you’re feeling lonely, y’know? You guys are my friends, and I love you. I know how hard it is for both of you guys.”

He hates it. He hates feeling this way; he hates that not only does the media know that they are not a duo anymore, but his friends also treat them as individuals because that wasn’t supposed to happen. He hates that he can no longer trust his friends as he used to, just because they share them.

“What did he tell you, Mina?” He pleads instead, his voice thick with despair. “What is he tellin’ you that has you so convinced?”

“I don’t think we should talk about this, babe,” she denies him, gently taking him by the arm, guiding him to the dance floor. 

It’s not the answer he wants, definitely not. Maybe the one he needs, but it still doesn’t fulfill the ugly hunger he feels inside of him. 

I have no one to tell, he muses bitterly. 

Dancing didn't help at all, and even though he was able to distract himself a little, laugh with Mina, hug her, and tell her how much he really missed her, the horrible feeling returned when he looked away toward the bar and saw what was probably his worst nightmare.

Katsuki is talking to his boyfriend. Well, talking was a bit of an understatement. The blond is basically flirting with him as if they had just met. And once again, that feeling he hates so much, that unnecessary, ridiculous, unreasonable feeling, appears again and consumes him because—

The ash-blond holds him so delicately, one hand on his partner's waist and the other on his chin, leaning in to plant chaste kisses on probably all of his damn moles as he talks to him about God-knows-what.

It's just way too domestic, especially for a man like Katsuki. Eijirou has a good reason to stare, that's all, he would never be envious of anyone's relationship.

“Huh,” Eijirou scoffs at the sight, feeling his mouth turn bitter. “He’s never been the biggest fan of PDA, y’know.” 

Ashido sighs into his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. “I really don’t think—”

Eijirou looks away from the couple, turning to look his friend in the eyes, which takes some effort considering the awkward angle they are at.

“One year,” he murmurs in a hollow voice. “It took me one year into our relationship to get him to grab my hand during patrols, and this guy did it in a month—probably less.”

“Maybe you taught him to love freely,” Ashido tries, moving away a little to get a better look at her friend’s face. “Maybe he knows he has to get better because of you.”

“It’s just not fair,” he replies, trying to focus on his friend and his friend only. “It’s funny, isn’t it? I’ve always been a firm believer that time does not always correlate with love, but this—”

He laughs without any humor in it, shaking his head slightly. 

“Do you wanna go back?” Mina questions him, already taking his hand. “Maybe Denki will make you feel better, you know how he gets when he drinks.” 

“Yeah, it’ll probably make my head hurt less,” he complies, following her path. It wasn’t his head that was hurting; it was his chest, which probably explained why even after reuniting with Kaminari, nothing really changed. 

It’s sadder that walking back to their past spot took them four minutes because of how clumsy Eijirou got at the sight and the memories. 

It’s just—who wouldn’t be bitter? 

He's single, afflicted with isolation, jealous, and sitting a couple of seats away from his ex, who’s waiting for his new boyfriend to come from the restroom. 

And as he drinks more and more beer, which is a little bitter for his taste, he starts to ponder about his probably not-even-situationship. Okay, yes, he and Katsuki broke up, but that doesn't mean the blond still doesn't have a soft spot for him, does it? 

A few months ago, the blond knew Eijirou like the back of his hand—knowing when he was hurt irreparably, when he was pretending he could take more, and how to calm him down during a panic attack, and vice versa. They were a team, which meant they had to know and care for each other.

It wasn't just about their work as pro heroes; it was also on an emotional level. They understood each other so well because they allowed themselves to do that; they allowed themselves to be calm and to feel protected.

So, does he? Does he still know how to read him? Does he still care enough to do it—to notice it? 

He slowly turns to look at Kaminari, who is drinking beer as if it were water, talking to Sero about a pretty girl he saw on patrol. 

He clears his throat, leaning his entire weight on the shoulder resting on the bar, and thinks, wow, I’m really doing this.

“Denki, yes or no?” He asks lowly, eyeing his friend to see his reaction. As expected, he only receives an arched brow, silently asking the redhead are you going to do something illegal? 

Kaminari hums after five exact seconds of just staring blankly at Eijirou. “Depends, what is it about?”

“Just answer it, man,” he insists nervously, already regretting his life choices. “Don’t overthink it, just choose based on your intuition.”

His friend inspects him a little more before opting to say, “Then, yes. Now, it better be about fucking at least three guys tonight instead of beggin’ Kat—”

Perfect, thanks!

Eijirou sighs heavily, this time leaning his head completely on the bar, letting out a loud groan afterwards, causing several people to look at him.

Katsuki, being one of them, was the only one who mattered to him at that moment. Nice. 

As their eyes meet, he can feel the blond observe him, searching for any signs of physical pain or sickness. Eijirou takes it as a win that, after all, there’s still that instinct the blond had to protect his ex-boyfriend, and hops off his unnecessarily high barstool, approaching the blond. 

Kaminari makes a confused sound beside him, clearly following him with his gaze and even turning around to look at what the redhead was trying to do. 

He can apologize later; let him have this for now. 

“Bakugou,” he starts, striding closer to the blond until he’s standing in front of the seated man, who’s arching his eyebrow without a vocal response. “I think my body is still sore from the fight we had this morning—I was wondering if you could ‘pop’ my lower back, please.” 

‘Pop’ was something they always did after patrols or unexpected fights with villains. Eijirou was more prone to lower back pain because he stayed in Unbreakable for several minutes, sometimes even hours. In return, Bakugou emitted short explosions that not only provided warmth but also served as a massage when the redhead slightly hardened his skin, creating small touches on his lower back.

It was their thing, being something they’ve done since they were in high school. 

Katsuki hums, suspicious, examining the redhead in front of him. “You didn’t seem like it,” is what he replies shortly. 

“I mean, we’re kinda in public right now,” Eijirou rapidly excuses himself, already feeling sweat sliding over his face at the thought of being caught lying. “But, it’s fine—you don’t have to, man, I was just sayin’—”

“Shut the hell up, Shitty Hair,” the blond interrupts him sharply, already pushing his forearm against the redhead's abdomen to make him move out of his way. “Let’s go to the corner.” 

It's exciting to finally feel it once again, after a long time of abstinence.

They don't talk at all when the blond lifts his shirt slightly, focusing only on the redhead's lower back pain, as the former expected. A few seconds later, he feels the pressure of small explosions, relieving the non-existent dorsal discomfort and worsening the pain in his chest.

The blond's hands are precise, knowing the drill from past experience, knowing which buttons to press when his back really hurts. It hurt because Kirishima doesn't deserve it; he doesn't deserve Katsuki's concern. He doesn't deserve to feel hands that treat him delicately as if his quirk wasn't about being literally unbreakable.

He’s possessive. Whatever quirks Bakugou's partner has, it probably isn’t as compatible with Katsuki’s as his; they definitely didn't have the ‘pop’ that the blond and he have.

At least he can keep something.

Katsuki seems to be contemplating whether he should leave after a minute, before muttering, “You should speak up when this shit happens, dumbass. You know how you get when it hurts.”

Kirishima winces at that, already feeling guilty at the raw sound of preoccupation in the blond’s voice. 

“‘S fine, man.” You don’t have to pretend anymore. I’m sorry. “It’s getting easier to bear with as the weeks pass by. Don’t worry.”

The blond hero rolls his eyes at that, turning on his heels to leave the place as he hears his boyfriend’s voice from the bar before stopping. “Whatever, just don’t let it get away with patrolling and shit, if the press finds out, you're dead.” 

It's funny how much it hurts to see the blond leave, more than literally seeing him greet his boyfriend with a squeeze on the other’s waist, yelling to the rest of them that “they were leaving already because Hiroo had work in the morning and he had to patrol early too.”

Eijirou smiles softly, turning to approach his friends as well, meeting the disappointed looks of Kaminari and Ashido.

And it hurts, of course it hurts, but at least he was comforted by the fact that Katsuki still has that soft spot for him, which makes him worry for no reason and act to ease any pain the redhead might feel.

At least they’re still hero partners—not in totality, but there’s still that spark. 

Eijirou can't find much about this Hiroo guy since the night at the bar, which was almost two weeks ago, even though he asked for outside help—thanks, Mina and Denki.

He does find his Instagram, which is a private profile, but of course, it has a cropped photo of his hair and Katsuki's. The pro-hero doesn’t obviously follow him on his main, but he does on his ‘private’ account that he was forced to create by Ashido because no, Kats, you can’t go to our outings and not post anything. 

It frustrates him to have to take desperate measures because he's not normal enough to stare at the ash blond and ask him about this guy. Hiroo’s biography didn't help much either, mentioning that he was a Pisces and lived in Tokyo. Fine, he could live only with that information, not like he desperately needs it. 

Kaminari huffs beside him, eyeing his phone. “So, are you gonna request to follow him or what?” 

Mina shrieks at that, trying to take the phone away from the redhead before he even tries.

“Dude! No, I won’t—Mina, get off me,” Eijirou stresses, dodging the pink-haired woman’s attempts to get his phone. “I won’t do anything, alright? What I could do is break into his house—”

“Which you obviously won’t,” Kaminari interrupts him with a flat voice. 

“—which technically isn’t legal, so no, I won’t try anything.” Eijirou continues, making his way to the pile of mission reports he needed to fill. It's Sunday, which means he technically could rest, but procrastinating is his middle name, so he’s stuck with Ashido and Kaminari doing extra work.

“Don’t forget to finish those quickly, Ei,” Ashido reminds him, plopping herself into the communal couch. “We’re stayin’ at your house with the squad, so you better have prepared snacks!” 

Kirishima quirks his eyebrow at that, genuine confusion painting his face. “When did we decide that—”

He couldn't help but wonder when he heard movement, turning to see the electric hero in front of him, a lazy smile adorning his face.

“I’ll help you, bro, don’t worry,” Kaminari shushes his worries, tracing the redhead’s lips with his index finger.

Eijirou blinks. “I’m very flattered, I really am, but I'm not interested in you like that.”

“This is exactly why you don’t have a girlfriend, Denks,” he hears Ashido mutter from her place. 

Kaminari yelps at their determination, stepping aside from the redhead’s field of view.

“I don’t even think my place is tidy, man,” Eijirou giggles lightly, nervousness being masked. “And who’s going, anyway? I need to economize on how much money I’ll end up spending on you guys.”

Denki laughs obnoxiously loud. “You’re the opposite of subtle, Eiji,” he banters. “I don’t think Hiroo is coming, Bakugou said he’s a nurse, so it's pretty hard to know if he is coming.”

“Nurse, huh? Does he have it for guys who care about others?” Ashido murmurs, clearly meaning it as a genuine question. 

“And redheads, too,” Kirishima adds to the list, walking away from the table that he clearly wants to avoid for at least a month. Paperwork will never be his thing.

“Anyway,” Kaminari dismisses the angsty small conversation, already making his way to the main exit of the office. “I already have the list of things you need to buy: snacks, movies, everything.”  

“Let me see that list,” replies Eijirou, not entirely trusting what his friend told him.

“Dear,” the electric blond starts, tapping his temple with his index finger. “I have it all here. I’m going with you.” 

“Can we add Brandy?” The redhead whines, making his way to follow his friend before turning around to face the pink-haired woman, who was already making herself at home. “You comin’, Mimi?”

Ashido shakes her head at that, moving her hand up and down like a CEO dismissing her secretary. “Farewell, Eiji. I need a nap.”

“You suck at decorating, geez,” Kaminari spats exasperatingly, trying to take down the red streamers from the window. “It's a small party, not a reunion.”

Eijirou sighs beside him, removing them himself after the twelfth failed try. “I appreciate your help, man, but it’s not working right now.”

Kaminari turned to look at him, noticing that the redhead was nervously playing with the decoration.

“Dude, are you seriously still nervous?” The blond inquires, humming after receiving no response. “Just remember what you guys were before you became a couple: best friends. You were the only one who understood him, and that doesn't have to change just because you broke up.” 

Eijirou nods slowly, taking a deep breath. “You’re right, this isn’t manly behavior at all—I gotta get myself together, right?” He turns to look at the blond hero, who also nods, more decisively.

The silence that follows is not uncomfortable, perhaps filled with nostalgia for memories of the first year, but remains familiar. Kirishima has only a couple of seconds of peace before he hears his friend clear his throat.

“So,” Denki starts slowly, clearly nervous. “How did you feel back there? I saw how close those two were, and I—well, it was kind of inconsiderate. Everyone else thought so, too.” 

“Well,” Eijirou considers his argument, with his head down as if he were ashamed. “It didn’t hurt that much. I was just jealous. Our friends shouldn’t be mad at him for falling in love again, though. He’s a nice guy.”

“You could—” his cough interrupts his own sentence. “You could try to—well, maybe—not sayin’ you should, but—you could try to make him jealous, too, right?” 

The redhead raises his head, puzzled. “What do ya mean? How would I do it?”

“Dude, what the hell?” Kaminari snorted incredulously, setting aside his shopping. “You’ve never tried it before? Like ever? Not even felt curious?”

“Have you?” Eijirou asks, surprised, his voice gave without understanding the point of making his partner jealous or insecure. 

The blond coughs obnoxiously loud again. “This isn’t about me, man!” 

“I mean, unless you have experience with this, I don’t see how I could trust you, man.” 

“Just—just don’t tell Mina or Sero I told you this, okay?” Denki winces, looking around paranoid, lowering his voice. “I invited Shinsou too, so I can tell him to bring Monoma, y’know, the guy Kacchan absolutely despises.” 

“He’s not the only one who hates him,” Eijirou whines, closing his eyes. “That dude is so annoying. Why would I flirt with him? How would that make him jealous? He’ll just think I’m dumb.” 

“Dude,” Kaminari starts, sounding as serious as he could get. “You both hate him for different, really different reasons.” 

Eijirou quirks his eyebrow at that, opening one eye. “Like?”

“Like, he hates him because Monoma had a big fat crush on you since our second year,” the blond replies, like it was the most obvious thing.  

Something in hims lightens up at the idea. He doesn't like that guy, not at all, but also—

“Are you sure this is a good idea, then? I mean—I don’t want him to hate me for flirting with his enemy,” the redhead murmurs, focused on his task, arranging the snacks while the blond man begins to sweep. 

Kaminari scoffs at that. “Just trust me, Ei. He’ll end up kissing you stupid.” 

Although the explosive blond’s reaction when he saw who was sitting next to the redhead when he arrived was priceless, nothing else happened. 

His expression was amusing, though. At first, Katsuki seemed bored upon arriving at the familiar apartment, then confused when he saw Neito near Eijirou, then offended for a microsecond—almost jealous, and finally, the blond chose to play it off, sitting right beside Jirou. 

If that wasn’t a win, the redhead didn’t know what else could be one.

“So,” Monoma starts, turning all his attention to the pro-hero next to him, “how’s your life going after… you-know-what?” 

Kirishima swallows a sigh, trying to maintain his composure so as not to make any unnecessary enemies, and perhaps also because he wanted to continue playing along until he got a stronger reaction. “Good.” 

Neito nods beside him, as if trying to understand him. “Does that mean you’re absolutely officially single now?”

“Yes,” Eijirou replies curtly. 

"Y'know, I always thought this wasn't your kind of scene," Monoma starts wandering, looking around his place. "It's a nice apartment and a nice party."

"Well, Denki and the others helped me, so—"

"This was your shared apartment with Bakugou, right?" He cuts off the redhead, eyes expecting the answer he physically could not give.

"Huh," Eijirou breathes out, nervous. "I mean, yeah, but—"

"And doesn't it hurt? Y'know, to like, live in a place where there's a million memories."

Kirishima quirks his eyebrow, not getting what the other was trying to say. "I guess it doesn't hurt me anymore. Maybe we just weren't right for each other."

"Yeah, obviously it doesn't hurt, you were the one who ended things, right? Maybe it was something you wanted," Neito scoffs beside him, hitting his knee as if what he had said was the funniest thing in the world.

"Yeah, it doesn't hurt," he agrees, feeling his chest contract at the clear lie.

Hearing the chair move next to him, the redhead turns to meet Neito's knowing eyes, which betrayed his lies.

“Shinsou told me what happened, Kirishima,” the blond whispers lightly beside his ear. “I don’t really like you like that—not anymore, but I’m willin’ to help you because I still dislike that asshole.”

It's almost as if this were a big joke, he thinks.

“Oh,” the redhead breathes out shakily. “Well, I thought—”

"And plus, you look—"

Silence settles between them, as if both of them were waiting for the other to speak up.

The blond chuckles at that, shaking his head. “You need to do your part, though, loverboy. Otherwise, it’ll be obvious, and your pretty princess won't be coming back to the castle.” 

“Don’t—is the bullying necessary, man?” Eijirou groans in front of him, resting his head on the blond’s shoulder, trying to hide his embarrassing blush. “I’m dying here,” he mutters. 

“He’s watching,” Neito mutters in his ear, before pressing his flat lips on his cheek, barely even touching it. “Don’t pull away yet until he breaks eye contact with me.”

The redhead giggles wholeheartedly at the order, yet still follows it. “You really don’t know how to act, do you? You killed my non-existent boner.”

“I told you I didn’t like you like that, didn’t I?” Neito shoots back, grabbing the redhead's waist with his hands. It’s almost like what Katsuki did—

Eijirou hears the latter scoffing louder than necessary, before catching his friends’ shouting at the blond to come back and not to leave. 

The redhead knows exactly why.

It takes less than ten seconds for Katsuki to find himself in front of both men, tapping the redhead on the shoulder. “Let’s talk. Now.” 

That's… quick. Almost too quick to be jealous, actually.

And it’s all Kirishima was expecting, so why does it feel so bad? Why does it feel wrong to feel some kind of pleasure when he hears the blond’s annoyed tone? Perhaps it is the harshness with which he pulls the redhead that reminds him that they are exes for a reason, which means that there is not enough romantic love between them for delicacy to be present.

And yet, it’s not enough. Nothing Katsuki does fills him as it did before. It's missing something.

“The hell is goin’ on between you and fuckin’ Smug Face?” He rasps out, a little tipsy from the cheap beer Kaminari forced the redhead to buy. 

Eijirou scoffs, breaking free from his embrace forcefully. “Nothing that should be of your concern, man. We’re done, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, we are,” Katsuki affirms, not even trying to argue against it. “And that’s why you should stop doing dumb shit like tryin’ to make me jealous. Doesn't suit you.”

Kirishima chuckled, tilting his head to try to clear any insult that was about to come out of his mouth. “What are you even talkin’ about, dude?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” The blond shoots back, crossing his arms and placing them on his chest. 

Really, who gave this guy the right to be so cocky?

“I’m sorry to break your pink, perfect world, Bakugou, but not everything revolves around you. Seriously, what’s wrong with me havin’ fun in my goddamn house with my guests?” Eijirou objects, trying to keep his voice and his calm facade.

He doesn't get the reaction he wanted, after all.

The redhead allows himself to be a little bit ashamed, if not mad, for the way it turned out to end.

"You fucking suck at lying and acting, dumbass. The ugly fucker doesn't make it better for you any of you," Bakugou replies sharply, running a hand through his hair, which was slightly damp with sweat.

"You're not comfortable," he mutters, yet the redhead doesn't register it with the loud background noise.

There's something inside the blond that doesn't let him say anything else—blankly staring at him, like he was scared of fucking up. The redhead could only sigh at that, feeling like it wasn't getting any cuter every year that passed by.

Only a few seconds of silence pass before Kirishima gets bored, making his way to the kitchen, leaving the explosive blond yelling "You can't just leave, you imbecile" behind him.

He won't do that—he deserves better than that, at least.

Their friends didn't notice the small, innocent fight between the two, and if anyone did, they kept quiet.

When he scurries into his kitchen to get some 'fresh' air, he meets with Shinsou and Izuku, both humming along to the background music while focusing on different tasks.

It's an almost domestic view. Hitoshi is checking the small homemade snack—which he didn't even ask for permission to make—to see if it's ready, and Midoriya is sitting on a counter, talking quietly to him while his fingers move to the rhythm of the music.

The purple-haired man doesn’t even turn to look at the redhead, but Izuku smiles at him, silently inviting him to join them.

"Hey, come sit here!" the green-haired man says, patting the chair next to him to indicate that Eijirou should sit there. He plops down with a groan.

Shinsou huffs without looking at them. "So, what happened there?"

Kirishima yelps, startled, eyes going wide. "What—what do you mean? Was it obvious? Does anyone else know?"

"I'm pretty sure everyone knows by now, Eiji," Izuku mutters, looking apologetic. "You guys aren't exactly subtle."

"Look, I'm trying to—"

“You never had a problem with his past well-known sexual partners,” Hitoshi interjects his sentence, eyes still focused on the snack as he decorates it. “Something changed your mind?”

“Take a look at what that manchild is doing,” he sighs, and both men turn to look at the living room. Finally, some interest shines in Hitoshi's eyes as he notices that the blond was already texting someone fervently.

"Never seen him this excited while texting someone," Izuku blurts out, amused, retracting immediately as he notices what he just said. "I mean! Not like—he obviously was excited to text you, but like—a different kind of! Y'know? Right?"

Eijirou scoffs at that. "It's fine, Midoriya, I guess we just were… different. It's like he's growing up and doing better with this romance stuff and—I just always thought I'd be there to witness it, the one who lived it."

“Oh,” Hitoshi mutters as he keeps examining. “Kaminari mentioned this new guy, but I didn’t think it was serious. Guess I was wrong.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“How are you doing, though? Is he making it difficult?” Izuku's words are a whisper, as if he were trying to keep it a secret, and Kirishima shrugs.

“Well, he's obviously fucked if he's watching his ex this closely,” Shinsou says, turning to look at them. “He’s definitely not doing fine.”

“Hitoshi, be nice,” Izuku replies nervously. "It's hard for everybody."

He only shrugs, and Eijirou sighs deeply. A headache is starting to form.

“It's just hard for me to accept it, but I'm over it,” the latter says, though it sounds like the lie that it is.

“I get it, I didn't think Kacchan would be so harsh about it,” Izuku points out. “It wasn't nice of him to do all that in front of you that night. Heard about it.”

“You can guess how bad it is for me, then,” he sighs. “I just don't want my friends to pick a side. Let him be happy.”

“Your friends and Bakugou can't be happy if you aren't,” Hitoshi refutes. “Shouldn't you make it obvious if you are happy? To avoid trouble.”

Izuku grimaces at that, expecting a big uproar to start. After a second of silence, he slowly opens one eye to peek at the redhead.

Eijirou hums at that. “Man, I think it's obvious I'm not. It's hard for me to hide my feelings. He'll notice; he always notices.”

Midoriya sighs beside him, a frown appearing on his face. "I was the one who was there for him that day, y'know? Heard everything from his side. I thought—I thought it'd go better than this."

“He never told me he needed to talk about it,” the redhead mutters, silently looking at the explosive blond. "I would've been there if he asked."

“Maybe you would have, but you can't blame Bakugou for wanting to talk to other friends after that messy argument. Izuku was there for him instead of you because you were the one who broke up with him, right?”

The words slice like a knife to the back, and Eijirou's posture stiffens, forcing him to cough the hurt away. He opens his mouth, as if to speak, but hesitates; words dying on his lips as he tries to get them out. He chokes back a retort, gaze drifting away as his hands clench into tight fists.

He understands it; he obviously does. The break-up between them wasn't easy, the miscommunication was worse, and even though both of them fought—or at least tried to—it just didn't end like they both wanted; it didn't fulfill them properly.

He remembers, though. Eijirou remembers everything. There wasn't much to say, probably the blond saying things he didn't really mean, the redhead fighting back for the first time in his life, and then—

It was just him, at the door of their shared apartment, waiting and yelling at the man who was already leaving, without a bag, not even a change of clothes, impulsive like any of his actions. And it hurt, it hurt Eijirou to realize that at no point could he change Katsuki's instinct; he couldn't stop him, not with shouting, not with crying.

Yeah, Kirishima was the one who ended the relationship, but the blond guy also played his part, ignoring all of his partner's pleas. Deep down, the redhead knew that he hadn't forced him to leave; he had challenged him, wanting to see if he could—stupidly—change the other's impulsiveness.

But seriously, who could really get over a relationship where you had already built a future together? And how do you find someone after that? Eijirou couldn't even look his dates in the face, not without seeing the blond in them.

They were right, their friends were right. It was probably the redhead's fault because he knew Bakugou better, but who doesn't want their partner to fight for their relationship? The promises, the apartment that is now only his, the rings, all of that was for Katsuki, so blame him for thinking that they could resolve it like any other argument.

Before he can try to explain himself to his friends, at least a little bit, Kaminari quietly slips into the kitchen, clearly attempting to break free from Neito, who was making an effort to get lucky that night—in Eijirou's sad party. Fine by him.

From the kitchen counter, the redhead could see almost all of the guests, who seemed very interested in the blond he was trying so hard to avoid, probably because the pro hero had recently made his relationship official. Perfect.

"So," Kaminari starts slowly, out of the sudden, next to the purple-haired man. "How're we doing, guys? Anythin' I can help with? Any… misunderstandings?" He asks cautiously, looking at Izuku and the redhead.

Both of them shake their head, getting what the blond meant.

"Oh! Not at all, Kaminari," Midoriya starts quickly, nervousness giving away his intentions. "Everything's fine! We were just talking about—"

"How we should start giving them the snacks already!" Eijirou cuts him off swiftly, patting the freckled man's back briskly. "Right, dude? So, let's—"

Hitoshi scowls at his action, turning to see Denki. "He's still talkin' about him."

"C'mon, man," Eijirou lets out a frustrated grunt that sounds very much like a growl, clearly annoyed. "Not makin' it better if you're airing my business."

"I mean," Kaminari starts slowly, "I think everyone knows, even him—"

Eijirou whines quietly, covering his face with his hands. "Why did I decide to invite him? Why did you make me?"

"To prove you got over him, dumbass!" Kaminari hisses, trying to shout quietly. "You can't expect him to think you're done with his ass after refusing to invite him, like it still hurts!"

"It's 'cause it still hurts," he mutters sheepishly, face still in his hands.

Shinsou snorts. "Well, there you have it."

"Hey," Midoriya cuts him off, voice sharp. "I told you to—"

"I know."

Perhaps it was Hitoshi's brutal candor, or the way his chest clenched from watching the blond navigate their place—a house heavy with memories, with an ease that felt like dismissal. Whatever it was, something primal inside him urged him to rein in his emotions.

"I'll just ignore the pain," Eijirou announces, tired of feeling the weight of his friends' behavior. He quickly stood up to look the three boys in the eye, trying to sound as honest as possible. "If it doesn't hurt him, why would it hurt me?"

He gets three different answers at the same time:

"Hell yeah, you got this, dude!"

"Well, that's because you're not him."

"Are you sure of this, Kirishima?"

The latter sighs, his masculine facade disappearing instantly. "I'll try. Out of sight, out of mind, right?"

There's a pause.

"We're here for you, man," Denki whispers back at him. Feelings he never thought he would feel appeared upon seeing the seriousness in the latter's voice. "Remember, we're friends, we don't pick sides, we listen to both of you."

"Yeah," Eijirou replies. "You're right."

"Can we get out of here already?" Hitoshi interjects, eyeing his snacks. "I think your guests are hungry."

He coughs, nodding at the determination. "Yup, let's go."

Leaving the kitchen took longer than necessary, especially since it left Eijirou wondering how pro-heroes, who fight deadly villains every day for a living, couldn't understand that no, four muscular men at the same time couldn't possibly get through an average door, and would clearly end up stuck.

It's more embarrassing than missing your ex-boyfriend, really.

Hanta side-eyes them, concern on his face. "Are you guys alright? Do you need assistance?"

"Nah, man," Eijirou breathes out, struggling to get out the door with Kaminari's hips crushing his back. "We're—I'm fine, just—Denki, stop movin', dude."

The electric blond whines on top of him, wriggling like a worm in salt. "Dude, shut up! This bitch hurts, and Shinsou is—making it worse!"

"Rude," the latter replies dryly, already getting out of there. His snacks, to everyone's sake, were not touched by any feet or sweated hands.

He's about to use his quirk, because hello, people, he's the most claustrophobic person ever, but something in him snaps. He stays still, trying to calm himself from an unnecessary outburst, trying to even his breathing. Using, of course, the technique Katsuki taught him when they first talked about his anxiety problems.

Five. Twelve. In and out. Inhale, exhale. It's fine, it's his own house.

He muffles a groan, already out of the ignominious stagnation. "My god, Denki—"

He's interrupted by an angry blond aggressively pushing his friend by the shoulder. "Fuckin' watch it, Sparky."

The latter whines beside him, just as sweaty, or even more so, than the redhead.

"Man," Kaminari shrieks at the other man's action, placing his hand on his own shoulder as he tries to steady himself. "It wasn't my fault, alright? I was just—Shinsou's fault. Sorry, Ei."

Eijirou tries to remain unfazed, confused by his friend's composure after being pushed by someone who was probably defending his ex. Like it was an instinct.

"Nah," Kirishima mutters, wiping his knees as if he could feel dust on them. "It's all fine now, so don't worry about it, bro."

Katsuki ignores it, getting closer to the redhead until they're face-to-face. Perfect. "You okay?" He mutters so shyly that Eijirou is surprised that it is Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight in front of him.

It's funny since he was used to it before. Really used to it.

"I'm fine," he replies, same voice as the other. "It's just—I was kind of stressed, anyway, so it was worse than it normally is."

The blond doesn't leave until Kirishima starts the routine they used to do when this kind of thing happened, nodding as he repeats what the redhead does.

"Good," is all he says before leaving the 'reunion', without saying goodbye to anyone.

His leaving made Eijirou think that he was the only one who felt something when they did their thing again, once again.

Alright.

He turns around, facing his guests. "So, does anyone want to dance with me?" He shouts, adapting the tone he was used to, just to keep his friends satisfied.

Katsuki shouldn't be caught off guard by Eijirou's behavior. Years ago, back when they were third-years, Katsuki had made it clear—in the privacy of an empty room—that they were bound together, whether romantically or otherwise. They were meant to be a team, whether for hero work or anything else. With that history, Eijirou was just trying to reclaim something he'd once been led to believe was his.

It just doesn’t make any sense. Katsuki had always liked him that way—bold, loud, and cheesy. He had always liked him at his worst, at his silence, at his happiness, and at his weirdness. So… why?

It's just heartbreaking to be the first one to prove wrong one fact: Katsuki is not a coward.

And maybe Katsuki doesn't like him anymore, maybe their love was bound to be temporary as others claimed before, but Eijirou is that way, and he's always been like that. He just feels, whether others think it’s wrong or not.

Eijirou isn't exactly thrilled when he hears about the heroes' dinner that Deku's agency is hosting—paperwork isn't exactly his thing, especially because it accumulates after having a good time, and he's never been one to jump at these events.

However, when he finds out Katsuki's gonna be there with Hiroo, he wakes up out of the small trance. There are, like Mina said once, things more important to him than reports after patrolling.

Let him be.

It's just, obviously, work is important too, but there’s a chance something might happen at dinner, and he wants to see who’s there. Plus, maybe there’s a new Pro Hero and—who cares if he goes or not? It’s his day off, leave him alone.

Kaminari is talking to Mina about who in the squad will be the ones attending, so she can tell Izuku and arrange everyone, and Eijiro is organising his last report, which he finally finished, albeit rather groggily, eyes already feeling dry enough to compete with the Sahara.

“So it would be us two, and then Blasty. Since Deku said any kinds of plus ones can be brought to the reservation, count Hiroo too.”

Eijirou coughs loudly, his attention already focused on both of his friends, who look at him, confused.

“Excuse me,” the redhead rasps out, his eyes flickering more than necessary. “What?”

They both blink up at him, and then look pointedly at the table, where Eijirou has said report ripped out, making a mess over the table, and probably giving him a couple of hours of extra work.

Kaminari hums lightly, forcing himself not to ask any more questions than necessary, while Mina frowns.

“Hiroo?” Eijirou asks, breaking the small silence.

Ashido grimaces, and Kaminari tries to look away. Eijirou just stays still in disbelief, his breathing becoming heavy.

“Ei—”

“He’s making his relationship public,” is all he can think about, voicing it, and Mina grimaces again.

He doesn’t mention how the two of them took months of being rookie heroes before they confirmed they’ve been together, and now Katsuki and Hiroo have been together for no longer than a month, and what? He was already invited to a publicized, pro-hero dinner?

Kaminari starts, voice trembling. “It’s more of a fundraising thing, since Midoriya said—”

“But it’s reckless,” Eijirou interjects. “Kats—Bakugou shouldn’t be exposing his partner like that.”

“It’s not really a…” Mina quietens down, measuring her words to not offend those who were not present. "It just… Blasty, he's like that, Ei, y’know how he is.”

“I know, but he's not this rash when it comes to relationships,” Eijirou replies soundly, and presses his hands to his temple, feeling a headache forming. “He’s never—he’s cautious when he knows he has to be.”

“Ei—” Denki starts, but the redhead moves his hands, dismissing the blond’s thoughts.

“I’m fine,” Eijirou mutters lowly. “It’s—I’m just worried for them, really.”

It is quiet for a moment, and then, after a long silence, Eijirou searches for a new copy of the report. Before moving to look for a pen, he looks at Kaminari and says,

“Tell Midoriya I’m finally going too, man. I’ll be Monoma’s date.”

He’s trying to maintain calm on whatever date he’s about to have, with the possibility of getting somewhere after it, when Kaminari’s confrontation comes.

“You said yourself you couldn’t stand that white boy’s ass, ” he says, sitting down next to him. “What’s your reasoning for finally accepting his love?”

Eijirou sighs, his composure almost breaking.

You know what’s wrong, man, he wants to say. You know better than anyone.

He actually reasons, thinking about whether he should say it, before opting for, “He seems like a much more mature man than before.”

Denki purses his lips, lost in thought. Whatever he’s thinking, it clearly has to do with Katsuki and—well, it’s stupid to assume everything he's doing has to do with the blond. He takes a glance at his friend and cautiously says,

“I remember the fights Katsuki and you had during your first year dating over his possessiveness,” he mutters, and Eijirou’s smile turns into a straight line. “With you sayin’ you didn’t want Monoma close like that.”

“Can we please not talk about that, man? I’m tired.”

Kaminari winces.

“I know, dude, it’s hard for all of us. I’m just afraid that whatever it is you’re doing will jeopardize the squad. We don’t—this is getting more serious than I’ve expected, that’s all. I love you, and I care for you, but it's just… not something I've expected from you.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Eijirou replies defensively. “Maybe I just—I don’t know, maybe he’s not the only one who’s changed. I want to try this, Denks. Please let me have this.”

Kaminari sighs, defeated, nodding his head. He clearly doesn’t buy a word the redhead is saying.

“We would never let our personal problems affect you guys, it’s just—it’s not a manly thing to do. We both know that.” It’s silly how he once had the right to talk for both of them. It was something they discussed, and even something they promised, to never let down their friends, no matter what happened. He thinks about it, how he was now deprived of swearing for the two of them, so he adds,

“And y'know I will always keep my promises.”

It could’ve been them together. As a team, as a duo, as something.

It was them a long time ago, and that’s what makes him feel so sour.

What hurts the most, though, is how their friends seem to accept the change so easily, too, with Kaminari not even batting an eye.

It's not as bad as he thought it would be, really. Neito actually seemed to have changed, and whether that hurt or not, it had nothing to do with the exact situation he is in, trying to hide his big smile.

When Katsuki learns Monoma is bringing Eijirou as his date, Eijirou catches a whole range of reactions on his face—surprise, annoyance, a flicker of jealousy (his jaw clenched tight, devastatingly beautiful, for Eijirou's poor heart), landing on a deep scowl.

Eijirou is kind of disappointed at first, but then opts to forget about whatever he has with Bakugou, and centers his attention on… Monoma, who seems way too smug for a regular dinner.

"You're telling me you tried copying that villain's quirk and lost control of it?" Eijirou scoffs, shaking his head lightly. "You're unbelievable, man, seriously."

"Hey, I told ya I tried. Being impressive is something Class B mastered, after all."

It's not that funny. In fact, Eijirou is pretty sure the blond meant it with his whole heart, too, but the privilege of being able to stay calm during such a terrible week means he can't stop laughing.

Clutching his stomach, Eijirou manages to utter, "Dude! You're still competing with—oh my fucking god!" It's loud, way too loud for an almost-formal dinner, yet the other man embraces it, laughing with him.

"Do you think I'm not the only one keepin' track of our wins? Even villains would do it, it's all about being careful, sweetheart." Picking up his cutlery, Monoma puts a piece of steak in his mouth before continuing. "It's always fun to bring back our old beef, that's all."

Eijirou hums to that, eating some of the food left on his plate. "Yeah, those were really good times. I still remember how you used to tease us all the time, man, I'm not gonna lie, I didn't respect you."

"I liked teasin' you more than the others, the faces you made were priceless," Monoma acknowledges, turning to see him fully. "I still like how you look, to be honest. You've clearly grown up."

"Did you—"

"I'd even say you look manly," Monoma pauses, giving him a smug smile. "Maybe the manliest man I've ever met."

Eijirou's breath hitches, feeling his face turning red. "O-oh, well, I—you're pretty manly too, dude, you've matured."

It's stupid to be that flustered over literally nothing; he knows it, he's no stranger to that type of praise—years into a relationship really change a man—but after a long time feeling just unwanted, the warmth he feels in his stomach is a whole new experience.

Neito looks at him, really looks at him, before giving him a cocky smile once again, leaving the redhead feeling nervous. "Well, red looks good on you, guess you really live up to your hero name."

"Dude, stop sayin' embarrassing things, I'm dyin' here," he manages to reply, his blush impossibly deepening.

With one hand, the blond man brushes the hair from Eijirou's face, resting his palm on the redhead’s cheek.

"Are you sure blushin' is not part of your quirk, hm? Because—"

"Augh, man!"

Maybe it wasn't so bad, after all. Maybe after two years of longing, moving on was actually an option.

It's not a good dinner, at least not for Katsuki.

After being attentive to whatever his boyfriend was doing for thirty minutes straight, he couldn't help but focus his eyes on a certain redhead, sitting next to Monoma Neito, whose head is getting bigger and bigger the more he talks to him.

It's dumb, he knows it. Being irrationally jealous over an ex-boyfriend is something that has never happened to him before, alright? It's—well, it's definitely something new, because of course, he learns a side of himself he didn't know because of Eijirou.

In the middle of a dinner, with cameras everywhere, his boyfriend by his side, and Eijirou with that fuckmunch.

He's being irrational, reckless even, waiting for his boyfriend to excuse himself to meet with new pro-heroes—why is he even talking to them?—to turn himself to the freckled boy sitting to his left, talking to Uravity.

Katsuki clears his throat loudly, trying to get the attention of his childhood friend without making the effort to talk to him. It always works.

Midoriya turns around, a nervous smile adorning his face. "Ka—Dynamight, what's up? Y'know, cameras here are really fun, you should say hi." Don't say something stupid.

"Y'think I don't fucking know that, nerd?" Katsuki mutters back, slightly annoyed. "Let's go to the bar, I need to tell you something."

"Oh—right, yeah, let's go there, then." Rapidly, Midoriya follows him to an isolated spot of the bar, where cameras weren't allowed, a courtesy of Izuku to help the overworked bartenders, who clearly weren't paid enough to cope with the media.

Izuku waits for the blond to talk, moving his hands nervously to his sides, standing on tiptoes, and doing all the stuff that clearly pissed Katsuki off enough to start talking.

"Stop doing that, nerd! I'm trying to concentrate!" He yells, placing his hands on both of Midoriya's shoulders and pressing down.

"Well, Kacchan, I'm kind of busy tonight, so—"

"What are they even talkin' about?" Katsuki cuts him off, turning his attention to both men who were already laughing their asses off. "Smug Face cannot be that fucking funny. Why is he laughing so loudly?"

Midoriya blinks, trying to understand.

"Talking—oh! You mean Eiji and Monoma? Yeah, I found that weird too, but then I remembered how close they could get during our second year when Neito was somewhat normal, so I thought it had something to do with him growing up and Kirishima noticing that. From what I've heard, both of them got closer, and it probably has to do with Monoma trying to get better with hardening quirks, since he and Kirishima have been recruited to work in an undercover mission involving bullet quirks—"

"Shut up! I didn't even ask that, dumbass! Stop talking to yourself like a freak!"

"Well, you just were muttering to yourself the reasons too, so what does that even mean?" Izuku shoots back, voice soft from nervousness.

Katsuki sighs exasperatedly, trying his best not to turn the media's attention to both of them. "It's fucking—I don't get their sudden friendship, can you blame me? They didn't even talk before! So why is Eiji—Kirishima smiling like that ogre hung the moon for him?"

Understanding flashes the freckled boy's eyes, making Katsuki feel weird.

"Kacchan, are you," Midoriya clears his throat, looking everywhere before muttering quietly. "Are you perhaps… jealous?"

"I'm not! It's just stupid because—Kirishima doesn't smile like that so easily, it's private, it means something. Why is he smiling like it doesn't?" Katsuki spits out, an ugly feeling crawling over his chest.

"Well, Eiji likes to smile at everyone, maybe he's just being overly friendly? Y'know, when people are nervous, they get like that, right? And—" Izuku stops, trying to find the right words. "It's his first time after a while that he's going to these types of dinners."

"Yeah, last time I was dating him. Me, his boyfriend. It's not—"

"Ex-boyfriend."

"You know what I fucking meant!"

"Kacchan, you can't be mad he's trying to restart his love life, you have a whole new boyfriend too," Midoriya explains sheepishly. "I know that's not really what you're trying to do, really, but—I don't want this to affect your guys' friend group, that's all."

The blond sighs, trying to collect himself before snapping once again.

Five. Twelve. In and out. Inhale, exhale.

"I fucking know, Deku, that's why I'm here talking to a stupid ass emotionally intelligent weirdo like you, and not there exploding that ugly smile out of that blond pervert's face."

Izuku hums at that, nodding as he translates what the blond truly meant. "I see, well, you should try to see the positive side. You wanted Kirishima to be happy, too, right? Maybe, I'm not sayin' it is, but maybe, this is how he can be happy again."

Not like this, fuck no. "Tch, whatever, let's just get back to the damn table before another extra comes to us."

If Midoriya sees him ponder before answering, he doesn't acknowledge it for Katsuki's sake.

The table Izuku chose was a large one, allowing all the guests to sit with their respective partners while still keeping everyone together in one place. This meant that even if Eijirou begged every saint in heaven, he would still have to sit at the same table as Katsuki.

He is barely listening as Kaminari and Jirou talk about their new joint agency, both of them being proud of what they’ve achieved so far, and it does not take Katsuki long until he captivates everyone’s attention, talking about a new technique Deku and he were trying to develop. Eijirou can’t help but direct his attention to the redhead next to him, who is taking pictures of them while the blond talks.

He lets Monoma do most of the work, and though his initial plan was to try and make Katsuki jealous by getting touchy with Neito, he ended up actually enjoying the small talk the blond was leading, letting him forget for once that he has to be civil in front of more than eight pro-heroes.

He's gripping a knife, hands shaking slightly as he slices into his steak while talking to Monoma, when Katsuki's voice drifts over, warm and familiar,

“You look beautiful in that picture, Hiroo.”

The knife slips, and he feels the sting before he even registers what's happened—his quirk's too slow to save his skin from the cut. He tucks his hand under the table, playing it cool, pressing down on the cut. But the blood's spreading, warm and sticky. He pushes up from the table, gaze locked on the bathroom sign, praying no one’s watching him unravel.

“Eijirou? Are you alright?” Neito inquires, voice full of worry. Maybe it’s the tone that makes the others turn to look at him, all of them confused.

“I’m—wow, sorry guys, I’ll be right back after this!” He rushes out, already making his way to the restroom.

Alone in the restaurant's hallway, he lets panic flicker in—deliberately not looking at the cut.

He's breathing hard, and he can't pinpoint what's got him teetering on the edge—Katsuki's arms looped around Hiroo like they were meant to be there? Did the cut actually get him freaking out? Or just the whole dinner thing when he's got a mountain of work left? He’s a hero; he can’t freak out just because of that.

But he is bleeding, and he’s utterly afraid of it, like he doesn’t save people for a living. He’s used to seeing that, he really is.

He rips through the bathroom drawers, not bothering to shut the door, hunting for a first aid kit—anything to wrap his cut. His hands are shaking as he sees the blood. He barely registers the footsteps, even though he knows them like he knows his own heartbeat.

“Fuckin’ hell, Eijirou,” Katsuki’s voice says, and it sounds firm. Eijirou quickly recognizes it as his angry voice, but he is too concentrated on his own breathing to pay attention to it. “First, you take that fucker as your guest to make me jealous, now you’re acting—”

"This isn't—Katsuki, what part of this," Eijirou starts, spinning around, wound on display. "What about this screams 'I'm faking it', man?"

Katsuki's scowl flips to concern, and he's on it—gently taking Eijirou's hand to check the cut. Eijirou's vision blinks out for a second as he catches sight of the blood.

Blood is not something that has ever scared the redhead this bad, getting both of them to the same conclusion: it was just his exasperation finally breaking him, affecting his whole mood. Whenever those types of meltdowns happened, both of them would go to the other. It was familiar and comforting. Anytime Eijirou needed to be held, he went to the same person.

Katsuki was the one who was always there for him.

Now Katsuki's got arms around Hiroo, and it looks like they’re gonna last, and Eijirou's about to faint from a little cut—and it's so ridiculous it's almost funny. He closes his eyes, a tiny sound slips out... and then the arms he’s missed wrap around him.

Katsuki’s manly scent surrounds him as he cautiously brushes his hair off his face, just like Neito did before. He’s trying, really trying to keep him awake, shaking him a little bit.

“Breathe, Eijirou,” Katsuki murmurs, so softly it reminds him of those times. “It’s fine, it’s just a small wound.”

Eijirou's eyes snap to Katsuki, breathing ragged, and Katsuki tucks his bloody hand out of sight, forcing Eijirou to focus on him.

"I'm here, Ei," he repeats slowly, a hand caressing his hair. "You wouldn't want this type of attention on you tonight, would you? Wouldn't be really manly."

"I'm—it's not—I'm tryin', man, stop," he manages to rasp out, synchronizing his breathing with the blond's, trying to calm down to avoid another panic attack.

It takes them a while to just stay there, reassuring not only Eijirou, but Katsuki too, until both men are satisfied enough to pull away. Katsuki is the first one to break the physical contact.

"Are you feeling better now, Shitty Hair?" The blond inquires, and even though the words are harsh, the tone is softer than usual.

Eijirou nods, looking away, ashamed of whatever he was doing not even three seconds ago.

"Good, I'll take care of it, then." Without waiting for the other's response, Katsuki gently takes Eijirou's hand, inspecting it meticulously, before washing it and finally bandaging it, leaving the wound feeling less irritated.

He stays quiet until the process is done, almost mesmerized by the way Katsuki's callous hands are always soft to the touch, like he knows how to control them.

"There, it should be fine now," the blond says, waiting for Eijirou to stand up.

They get back to the table, and the looks they get are pretty obvious, but they brush them off, that being the only thing they're able to do.

Deku hit his goal for the fundraiser before they got there, marking the end of the dinner, so he lets Neito take him home—and the minute they get to the apartment, he thanks Monoma, giving him an awkward pat on the shoulder.

It's a small ride since Deku chose a restaurant specifically close enough to everyone's houses, just in case anyone got tipsier than expected—that man is an angel, really, being nice to civilians and considerate to pro heroes at the same time, it's just mind-blowing—so, Eijirou doesn't say much on their way home.

That is, until they get to his apartment.

"I'm sorry for the mess I made earlier, man, I'm usually not like this." Eijirou smiles at him shyly, a hand placed on his neck. "It's just—I'm really embarrassed."

Monoma shakes his head."Hey, don't feel bad about it, Red. You should get some sleep. I'll stay here until you feel better."

"You're the best, really, dude, this—you're a great guy." Eijirou smiles at him before turning to his bedroom.

He knows it's not manly to leave your "date" waiting for you, but tonight—he can't bring himself to talk to anybody, he can't do it now.

He stares at his hand, clean but still tender, and shuts his eyes. For a second, he's back in Katsuki's grip, seeing it without his eyes—warm, steady, and way too familiar to be just a friend's act of kindness.

Maybe Katsuki being gone is something Eijirou deserves.

Maybe Katsuki leaving him wasn't him being a coward, it was him breaking free.

Katsuki would never say this out loud, not even to himself, but Eijirou carved something in his heart that could never be replaced.

He'd never admit it and would deny it to anyone who suggested he was hurt. Even Midoriya and Shinsou knew better than to bring it up, but he'd just brush it off —Bakugou Katsuki doesn't dwell on the past, and Bakugou Katsuki doesn't get heartbroken, not even for him.

It's just—heartbroken seems to be the only thing that gets close to a total synonym, doesn't cover completely how he truly feels.

The problem is that no matter how much he tried to think that Hiroo was a good idea, deep down, he knew he was just a rebuttal—some type of petty revenge.

He knows how much of an asshole someone has to be to do so, and he would never do it with his right mind. He just got stuck into a big deal he never even wanted to be part of, he doesn't need a partner after all.

And he would never—not even if he wasn't an egotistical piece of shit—give Eijirou the satisfaction of knowing his little scheme was working on him, because he's a fucking top 10 pro hero, and whatever his ex-boyfriend was playing with him was just a childish thing to do.

However, here he is, watching Eijirou leave with someone who clearly doesn't deserve him, while he's sitting next to his new boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

That's something—not really a good word Katsuki would use to describe whatever he's having with Hiroo, not even after officializing and making his new relationship public. He's a bad person for doing this to a civilian, he knows it.

Hiroo catches him zoning out at the restaurant door, clearly torn, and he forces himself to snap back to reality, meeting his boyfriend's gaze.

That's his partner after all.

The word weighs on him like buildings, shots, and every type of scheme villains do.

If Eijirou had been the one who moved on, Katsuki would've been devastated. The thought of someone else (probably Monoma, keeping in mind how both men left together) touching him…

His fist clenched, and he hated—just disgusted himself for it.

To think of Eijirou being afraid of showing his weakness to him, like they weren't just—like they weren't a dynamic duo just before everything went to hell. It hurts, and he can't even breathe properly just thinking of how stupid he was being—

"Katsuki, c'mere, darling," Hiroo says lightly, and the blond looks at him. "Hey, breathe with me, okay?"

"Hiroo—"

The redhead smiles at him, placing his hand on the man's cheek. "It's alright, y'know?"

"What—"

"Follow me," Hiroo replies, taking his hand and guiding him to a secluded area of the restaurant, before letting him go completely. "You didn't do anything wrong, really, what we had—I liked it, but we're torturing ourselves here."

Katsuki blinks, his mind trying to comprehend what's happening. "Wait, so you—"

"I… noticed things, yeah," the redhead mumbles. "I get it—you guys were really close, since forever, I've read, and you're not the only one who was gaining something from this relationship…"

Something clicks on him.

"The hell's that s'pposed to mean, huh?" The blond shoots back, quirking an eyebrow. "You're saying—"

"I was trying to get over someone else, too," Hiroo explains, still wearing a smile. "And also maybe enjoying the fame I had, but that's all."

Katsuki stares at him, surprised. "So, you knew this whole time?" He mutters, shame washing all over his face.

"That you still love him? It was—I think everyone knew, baby, and it's fine, from what I've seen, he clearly wants you back, too."

Hiroo takes his hand, squeezing it.

"Hey, it's fine, Bakugou, really. My respect for you as a hero won't change after this, and there's no hard feelings. Just—I don't want our relationship to feel forced, and if there's no love between us, maybe it's because we're not meant to be, not even if we tried."

Katsuki feels his cheeks blush, even more ashamed. "I'm sorry for doing this to you, Hiroo. You deserve better than being a rebuttal."

"Well, maybe I do, maybe I'm just as guilty. I don't know how things ended up for you guys, but prioritizing growth will always help in a relationship. Take my advice for once, alright?" Hiroo pats his back.

"It's hard, everything's hard with me," Katsuki remarks, looking him in the eye for probably the last time. "He just—he kicked me out of his life. I don't know what to do."

"Relationships aren't easy, and those that are probably won't last long. Look at us," Hiroo replies fondly. "It was simple at first, and now we're here."

"That's my fault, I'm—sorry," the blond mutters.

"No hard feelings, Dynamight, we both tried to make it work," he says, punching him lightly.

Katsuki smiles back at him, nodding.

"Just try, alright? I know you got this."

Katsuki wasn't exactly the guilt-ridden type, and he didn't feel bad about ditching Hiroo. He is cool, cute—a redhead—and all that, but not really his thing, not something he would be excited to come home to every day.

What threw him off was Hiroo's parting shot—admitting Katsuki wasn't his type either, and he nodded toward a pro hero whom Bakugou didn't really know, explaining to the blond he'd had his own nightmares to run away from when they first met.

He's trying to push Hiroo out of his mind without having any to feel he deserves whatever karma he's about to pay, saying to himself he's got bigger things to deal with, like the guilt eating away at him.

And it's all because of someone—a man who's not a natural redhead—who makes him feel stuff he's never felt before.

To the one who has always been meant to be, ever since they met.

He walks his way to what used to be home, and when he arrives, he goes directly toward Eijirou's bedroom—what used to be a shared one—and finds Monoma leaving quietly, a hand wrapped around a water glass that's already been drunk.

Katsuki frowns. "The hell are you still doing here, fucker?"

"I was not about to leave him all drunk by himself, Dynamight, I'm not an asshole," Monoma replies curtly, passing him by without any care.

"Well, I'm here now, you know your way out," Bakugou commands him, his right hand dismissing him.

Neito scoffs, judging him. "I'm not leaving him with you, you'll probably explode his face."

"I'll explode your ass first, get the hell out."

"You're gonna fight me in this peaceful apartment, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight?"

"I'll beat your ass without a single explosion."

He knows naturally that fighting someone, whether it's a pro-hero or a civilian, during his off-duty hours isn't professional, and that Monoma is a nosy bitch who could literally tear his career apart if he showed the world what Katsuki did to him—if they ever got in an actual fight, obviously.

Still.

He's about to, actually, attack Monoma without using his quirk, already thinking of how sweet his palm will feel against that ugly smile of his, when he hears a door opening.

He freezes in his place, turning around, while Neito tenses in sight, a smile freezing on his face.

And there is.

Kirishima Eijirou, with big, puffy eyes and swollen lips, and he looks rather mad than sad.

Katsuki blinks. "Kirishima—"

Eijirou stops him, raising his hand. He takes a good look at Katsuki's own, which is aimed at the other blond, then he looks at Monoma, who's covering his face with both of his forearms, looking like a perfect victim.

Katsuki sighs.

"The hell do you think you're doing, Bakugou?" Eijirou interrupts him, already making his way to both blonds. "Did you—did you just break into my apartment? Dude—"

Bakugou cringes, completely flabbergasted at the thought.

"What the hell? No! I was—I have the copy of the key." He shakes his keys, nervously. "I came here to talk to you." He wondered about it before, how it would go, what he could tell the redhead to explain that he didn't want to hurt him, just try to get over him. He knows it doesn't make sense, but at least he could try, right?

Monoma huffs at him, turning to see Kirishima. "You know better than listening to him, Eijirou, that asshole made you suffer—"

"And that's why I wanted to talk to him, fucker! I didn't do it on purpo—"

Monoma scowls, turning to see him.

"Dirty liar, you're just trying to—"

"Don't you dare fucking finish that sentence, Smug Face," Katsuki snarls back, pushing him down once again.

"Are you really mad that I don't trust you to be with Kirishima? After what, literally being an emotionally unavailable friend to him? You—"

"That's why I'm here, dumbass! Whatever happened has to do with him and me, you don't get to take that away from us!"

"Watch me, you little—"

Eijirou winces at his friend's yelling, feeling a headache forming. "Monoma, man, I appreciate what you're doing, really! But… I think Bakugou and I do need to talk, maybe just a short, private thing? Please." It's not really about what they were doing before he interrupted, clearly not caring enough to give them the satisfaction of saying wow I love how two men think they have the right to destroy my furniture.

Katsuki abruptly stops, looking at the redhead in desperation, forgetting the other blond, who just scoffs at that, forcing himself out of Bakugou's hold.

"You're being ridiculous, Red Riot," Monoma mutters, but complies to his wish anyway, already by the door, before turning around. "Just call me if he does anything."

Katsuki ignores him completely, walking towards the windows and moving the blinds to give them some privacy, and then finally sitting on the couch, looking at the redhead.

Eijirou quirks an eyebrow. “Dude, what are you doing?”

He can see how the blond is debating with himself, probably about explaining himself or—leaving again.

“What you've been trying to get me to do for these past few weeks.”

Eijirou slowly blinks before sitting next to him, his eyes bulging.

“I didn't leave with Hiroo tonight,” Katsuki says lightly, and Kirishima only stares at him, clearly waiting for something else to come.

The room hangs in an eerie silence as they gaze into one another's eyes, the air thick with unspoken words. Katsuki feels the weight of time pressing down on him, each second stretching indefinitely as he searches for the right words to break the stillness. It feels like an eternity before he finally finds his voice again, the tension in the space crackling like electricity.

“You've always been my equal, y'know?” He whispers. “Whenever I doubt someone will get me, you're there to prove me wrong. I just haven't—nobody compares to you when it comes to getting me.”

“Nobody compares to you either,” Eijirou whispers back, frowning.

“And I think…” Katsuki chokes on the words, but he manages to say, “I’ve made a mistake.”

“Don’t lie to me right now, Bakugou,” Eijirou replies defensively, his voice fierce. “This night has really stressed me out, man, and I can't stand—”

“Hiroo and I are done,” Katsuki announces, his voice bursting with emotion. Eijirou's mouth drops in disbelief, his eyes widening in surprise. “Well, congratulations, puppy. Your plan actually worked.”

The affectionate nickname escapes easily, causing Eijirou's face to flush bright red.

“I—”

“He told me it was okay,” Bakugou says, leaning in closer. “That it was perfectly fine for me to still care about you—that I still… wait for you.”

It takes Eijirou a while to notice what they were doing—the obscene grinding against the other, letting their erections rub against each other, thrusting into one another, with their clothes still on.

Katsuki is sucking his bottom lip into his mouth before he can catch himself, an arm wrapping around the redhead’s waist, trapping him so he couldn’t escape, like he ever would. Just like anything he’s ever done, he excels at fucking Eijirou’s mouth with his tongue, leaving little to no space for oxygen. 

It’s just second nature for them, and Katsuki is so, so good to him. He kisses right where he has to, hands exactly where they need to be, tracing the curve of Eijirou’s waist, which he knows so well, sucking his skin like he wants to devour him whole in one night, and Eijirou—he lets him, because there are so few things he wouldn’t let the blond man do to him. 

The familiar manly scent fills up his senses once again, leaving him vulnerable to the feeling of massaging their tongues together, rolling them over each other, feeling and tasting Katsuki, sucking on his tongue like a starving man until both of them have to pull apart, catching their breath. 

It’s just—he’s needy. Eijirou has been patient enough, in his opinion. Nights full of wanting the other man kissing his whole body until making him shiver, crying out of overstimulation, remembering how loud he used to be while touching himself, and awaiting his ex-boyfriend’s arrival. 

He’s dizzy when Katsuki pulls back, inhaling each other’s breath after their quick pause, the blond’s right hand going straight to his head, tangling his fingers through his hair and pulling lightly, just enough that he has to lean in to capture his swollen lips again, leaving the sound of quick, sloppy kisses filling the silence. He lets the blond guide him, letting his tongue trace the inside of his lips, biting them after he’s finished tracing them with the tip of his tongue, letting their teeth click against the other after he’s left his lip completely wet and numb. 

Eijirou glances at the blond’s hands, his mouth leaving a small whine as the other unbucks his belt rapidly. “You—we’re doing it?”

Katsuki stops his action, his gaze fixating on Eijirou’s eyes instead of his lips. 

“What? You don’t wanna?”

“I do,” he replies quietly, wrapping his arms around the blond’s shoulder. “Keep goin’, please.”

Katsuki follows, just like he follows every command the redhead gave him once they got into bed, letting him enjoy the affection he’d been missing after his patrols. He takes him apart as he always does—rough enough not to overstimulate him, yet gentle enough to be able to put him back together again, leaving him ready to combat another day.

That’s just the power Katsuki has over him after years of dating, the advantage of knowing specifically what the redhead wants without having to say it out loud. 

Once his belt is undone, Katsuki quickly pulls down his pants, tossing them to the side of Eijirou’s bed, leaving the redhead completely exposed, with only a thin piece of fabric covering his genitals from the blond's.

It’s quick, like he’s trying to finish it as quickly as possible, leaving Eijirou’s skin bright red from his clothes’ friction. 

Bakugou palms his length, humming at the feeling. It leaves his thighs trembling in anticipation, feeling himself getting wet, like it’s possible for him to—like he’s able to produce slick. 

He doesn’t, actually, but the pre-cum smearing all over his boxers as the blond’s hand moves up and down his dick makes him feel damp, sending waves of pleasure all over his body. He arches his back out of nature, pushing himself against Bakugou’s hand.  

It’s not enough, it’s—he can’t come like this after a long time waiting for the blond to come back, he refuses. 

Lightly, he tries to pull the other man away from him, resting his hand over the blond’s shoulder, pushing him. “S…stop doin’—Kats, please, I’ll—I need more, please.” 

And oh, his voice sounds so sweet, he doesn’t believe it’s actually him who’s speaking to the blond. The way his voice is needy, breathless, and just—it’s all because of Katsuki.

Hesitantly, the blond stops his motion, without moving anything other than his hips, still humping against the other, settling himself between the redhead's legs.

It’s too much—Katsuki jerking his pelvis against his, shakily and quickly, panting on Eijirou’s neck. He’s intoxicated by the smell of his sex, even when the blond is fully dressed. 

“Fuck, don’t—God, Eijirou, look at you,” Bakugou mutters, both of his hands falling at the sides of his waist, leaving him atop the redhead. 

He moans, being that the only thing he’s able to do is be trapped by Katsuki keeping him below him. With trembling hands, he reaches for the blond’s dress shirt and pulls at it, hinting at Bakugou to take it off. 

Katsuki huffs, shaking his head as he follows the silent command, leaving his chest exposed.

That’s him. Nothing has changed. It’s what Eijirou’s been craving to see for two years now, so almost instantly, the redhead leans in to take a nipple between his lips, letting his experience guide him, tracing the areola with his tongue, then sucking on the pink nipple in front of him, swirling his tongue over the sensitive skin. 

The blond moans at his action, his right hand back at his hair once again, pulling him off his chest. “C’mon, sweetheart, you don’t wanna finish like this, do you?”

Eijirou shakes his head anxiously, looking like an excited puppy, trying to make Katsuki satisfied, just like the blond always does—he needs to be good for Bakugou, he needs to—

“Please, Kats, please,” he cries out, voice raw. “I need to—please, fill me up, I can’t—”

He knows how to beg so sweetly—years of practice molding how he acts when it comes to sex, he knows what buttons he needs to push for the blond to snap at him, to rearrange his insides, to reach places other men couldn’t reach—it’s their thing. 

Kirishima knows how to ask for it, and Katsuki knows how to mold himself inside of the redhead enough to leave Eijirou only needing him. 

“Fuck, I’ll stuff you so full, Ei,” Katsuki pants, taking off his own pants with lightning speed. “You won’t even be able to get up without feeling my seed in you.”

Seeing him in just his boxers sets something off in Eijirou’s mind, taking hold of him. Quickly, the redhead takes the blond’s hand, pulling him toward the bed, patting his chest so he can sit on the other’s lap.

Sitting on top of him with only a piece of fabric separating them, he begins to move his hips, feeling the blond’s erection grow little by little, poking at his entrance. It’s too much and too little at the same time, leaving him unconsciously drooling at the familiar feeling, hungry for more friction. 

He feels the blond panting below him, both of his arms wrapping around his waist once again, pulling him impossibly lower against his hard cock, chasing the feeling of Eijirou’s hole clenching around nothing. 

He’s so good, Katsuki is so good to him, letting Eijirou be selfish because he knows he needs to, because being a brat is a side of him only the blond knows about—it’s what completes both of them.

Eijirou is just a man, after all; there’s so much he can get before it’s not enough for him. 

Slowly getting up, Kirishima begins to take off his boxers, his gaze fixed on the nightstand next to them. 

It's just—he needs a little more, just a little more to reach the lubricant, grinding against Katsuki’s clothed erection, feeling the fabric against his hole.

“There’s—the lube is right there, just—please, Katsuki, keep going.” Eijirou grinds against him, riding the blond. 

He feels the answer before hearing it. Bakugou moves below him, turning his hips slightly as he takes the lube and spreads it quickly in his fingers, warming it up before turning to see Kirishima, his gaze fixed on him. 

Eijirou stays still, expectantly. “Now, please?”

It’s a little breathy, he quickly notices, and blames the blond for it. 

Katsuki smirks. “You sure you can take it?”

“Dude, this is—I’m not a virgin! Just so you know, I have—”

“That’s a yes, okay.” Katsuki cuts him off, his lubricated fingers making their way into the redhead’s rim, teasing his hole, before entering a finger. 

It catches him off guard, a little gasp escaping his puffy lips.

Katsuki’s finger is experienced—searching for his prostate immediately. He feels along the front wall, moving his finger slowly, massaging the gland to add more pleasure. 

Eijirou shivers, letting himself feel it, relaxing into the blond’s touch. And the fucker—he notices it, notices the way his hole asks for more, greedy like him. 

He’s sweet when adding the second finger, peppering kisses all over his neck to reassure Eijirou, his left hand around his waist as if not to let him move, taking care of him. 

“Not enough, Kats, please—fuck me already, I’m okay,” Kirishima begs wetly, collapsing as he feels the third finger against his prostate, making his eyes roll. 

“You’re doing good, baby, so so good,” Bakugou mutters in his ear, curling his fingers inside the redhead. “Just a bit more and then you can have it.”

Eijirou moans softly, his arms wrapped lightly around the blond’s shoulders. Planting his feet firmly on the bed, he begins to ride Katsuki’s fingers, clenching himself as his thrusts become desperate for more. The initial burn quickly turns to a familiar pleasure, causing his hips to tremble slightly from the overstimulation. Panting, Bakugou gently moves his fingers inside Eijirou, allowing the redhead to open up just enough to prepare him. It’s good, it’s exciting, it’s addicting—and yet, it’s not enough. 

He needs—he only wants Katsuki to—he can’t come like this. Eijirou whines, his head falling onto his shoulder, hiding his blush from the blond. 

Katsuki quirks his eyebrow, his left hand moving to pull him by the hair. “What’s up with the hiding, huh? Let me hear how good you feel, sweetheart.”

Eijirou makes a strangled noise, trying to concentrate on the blond’s voice. He feels dizzy, full yet greedy, trying to get more. 

“Please, please—make me cum, please,” he babbles, his eyes prickling with tears. “It’s too much, I need—I need your cock, please.”

As soon as Eijirou’s orgasm begins to approach, Katsuki pulls his fingers out and watches as Eijirou’s hole shrinks into itself again, reverting to its tiny, soft opening. It just shows how fucking tight he is, and it makes the blond moan in surprise.

 “On your stomach,” he orders, and Kirishima obeys.

It’s a pretty view—the redhead’s hole awaiting him, his body clearly desperate for more contact, not even two seconds after pulling out. 

Eijirou whines, asshole winking, begging to be filled with something again, begging to be destroyed. Katsuki fists his dick and aligns his pink cock head against Kirishima’s opening. He presses against the hot, wet tight hole. Slowly, he pushes himself in with a squelch that disturbs the lube that gathers where they connect.

Kirishima’s walls hug his dick perfectly, adapting themselves once again to the length inside him. It leaves him babbling, his brain immediately stops working. The redhead’s insides keep sucking him in, pulsing and clenching warmly around him.

It’s too much—his thighs start trembling once the blond sets a pace, hips rolling back and forth slowly, careful not to hurt the redhead. 

With his mind clouded, the redhead traps Katsuki between his legs, pulling him impossibly close until he feels the other’s pelvis pressed firmly against him. Breathing heavily, Eijirou tries to relax in the face of this new intrusion, melting at the touch of the blond.

Katsuki finds a steady, even pace. He keeps pounding into Eijirou, fucking into his prostate, punching whiny and incoherent cries out of him as he gets his tight hole milked. The blond moans at the tight embrace of the redhead, watching as his cock disappears into Kirishima, stretching him out impossibly wide like before.

Katsuki thrusts forward, his groin slamming against Eijirou’s hole before he pulls his hips back and his cock slides out of him. This time, Eijirou’s hole doesn’t tighten back to its original narrowness. Eijirou notices it, his head feeling light, drunk in ecstasy—his hole remains dilated, remains fucked, retains the shape of Katsuki’s thick cock. And just as Eijirou moans, heavy with weariness, Bakugou grabs him by the waist and flips him over, so that he ends up lying on his back.

The blonde wastes no time gripping Eijirou’s thighs and folding him in half. Katsuki huffs as he pushes the redhead’s knees up to his face, presenting his hole enticingly. Bakugou slides back in, resuming his brutal pace—pounding into Eijirou while fumbling with the bone gag and pushing it back into his mouth. Propping himself up on one hand, he twists the redhead's brown, puffy nipples with the other, making Kirishima cry out in response.

“Kats’ki, please,” Eijirou cries out, mind fucked completely. “Don’t stop, more—so deep.”

The blond grunts in response, his pace fastening. “Almost there, Ei. You’re so—so good for me, aren’t you? So sweet for me.”

Eijirou nods rapidly, tears falling at the action. He’s so cockdrunk, he can’t even understand what the blond is saying, feeling a spark running through his body. Without warning, the redhead arches his back, feeling his orgasm approaching—seeing stars. Eijirou lowers his head, watching as a thick substance splatters across his chest, making him moan at the sight. 

After a few seconds, the pleasure becomes too much, and he feels overwhelmed. Slowly, the redhead taps the other’s shoulder lightly, tears streaming more freely from his eyes as he gasps at the sensation building in his stomach.

“Too much, Kats—it’s—not, please, Kats,” he babbles out, bringing his arm to his mouth to bite it. “Too—it hurts, please.”

He doesn’t stop grinding his hips as he says that, and Katsuki automatically translates his words, understanding what the redhead actually meant.

“You can, sweetheart. Just a bit more for me, alright?” Bakugou replies, voice tight. “I’m almost there, puppy, you can—help me, right? Make me feel good?” He pants, his voice breaking as he quickens his thrusts. 

Eijirou nods, clinging to the sheets. It doesn't take more than twenty seconds before he feels the thrusts slow down and his stomach bulge. It’s familiar to feel Katsuki’s dick twitching and pulsing, warm inside of him—like it was meant to be like that.

Slowly, Katsuki pulls out, causing Eijirou to wince at the sensation of overstimulation. “Dude, oh my god—be nicer about it!”

Slowly, the blond cleans him out, making sure to remove all the semen that had built up inside him, knowing the stomachaches it gave the redhead when it wasn't done properly. It’s intimate—so intimate that the redhead knows he doesn’t deserve it, and yet he lets himself be cared for, holding the blond close, his trembling hands wiping his chest, his stomach, and his legs

Eijirou hums when he feels the warm towel leaving his body. "You're such a softie, Bakugou."

Katsuki rolls his eyes, a smile tugging his lips. “Shut up, we need to talk properly now.”

“I thought we did—” Eijirou stops, looking at him. “What’s going on, Katsuki?”

“I need to fuckin’ explain myself and—we need to get better at communication, clearly.” Katsuki caresses the redhead’s cheek, his thumb tracing his cheekbones. 

“It might be the only thing we have to get better at,” Eijirou agrees, nodding slowly. “I just wanted to—”

“Well, I was just—”

Eijirou waits, trying to contain himself.

“Will you—will you let me?” Katsuki rasps out, a pretty blush adorning his face. He looks flustered, as he didn’t fuck him to oblivion minutes ago. “It’s fine if you don’t want to hear it, I just—”

“I’ve been waiting for you to do it, dumbass,” Eijirou replies lightly. “It’s what we both deserve.”

Deep down, he feels something stir inside him. It was probably the thrill of knowing what was really going through the blond man’s mind—the reasoning behind his abandonment.

Don’t be a fool, Eijirou, he mentally scolds himself. It’s just an apology. 

“When we broke up, we—I said things I didn’t mean. I was mad and thought everyone wanted to bring me down, even my own mother. I was being reckless, trying to shut down every feeling, so when we fought, I thought you—it was serious to me. I hated every single second of it, and out of pure instinct, I wanted to leave. I was hoping, yeah, stupid—for you to stop me, so I could have an excuse to stay, so when you told me to leave… it hurt. I took it personally and just said, fuck it, I’ll give him what he wants. 

“I was being an egotistical piece of shit, I know, but shit, Eijirou. It hurt like crazy to leave, not because I wanted to, but because you asked me to. There were days when I couldn’t even fucking eat, and I was heartbroken. Hiroo, him—I met him during a patrol, and he—I used him as a petty revenge. I was being stupid, I know. I just wanted you back, and it killed me to just accept my future, to accept that I wouldn’t be able to have you because of my stupidity.” 

Katsuki’s eyes never leave his for a moment, causing the redhead’s throat to tighten. It’s painful—the fact that he finally has the chance to express how he feels, and yet—and yet he still doesn’t have the courage. 

He doesn’t deserve this.

However.

“I never… I never said I wanted you to leave, Katsuki. I—when we were arguing, all I wanted to see was you fighting for us—for me. I needed reassurance, so I thought that if I challenged your pride, challenged you to leave, you’d finally show me how much you were willing to risk for our relationship. It was immature, I knew it, but—I just needed you, at the time, I only needed you. I wanted my boyfriend to hug me and tell me he loved me. I never wanted you to leave. Nothing like that.”

“I just—I didn’t notice that, I was locked out completely.” Katsuki falls silent, his gaze down. 

When Eijirou's single tear falls, he closes the distance between them and gently catches the tear, stroking his cheek softly.

“I’m so sorry, Ei,” he mutters quickly, sounding desperate at the sight of the redhead crying. “I’m very sorry for doin’ that shit to you, I was being stupid. You’re the only one I wait for—the only one who can have me like this.”

Eijirou hiccups, trying to catch his breath. “I—I love you, ‘tski. I’m so—I’m sorry too, I was being selfish, and it wasn’t very manly. I tried to stop, but I didn’t want to give up on you, I couldn’t.”

Katsuki scoffs. “Well, now we’re both here, huh? Don’t you think it means something?”

Eijirou blinks. “Huh? What do you—huh? What?”

“Eijirou, you’re the only person who could actually make me apologize and acknowledge my mistakes, even if it sounds horrible,” Katsuki explains lowly. “I’ve been planning this speech for months. It didn’t matter if I was on a mission or just patrolling, I’ve been dreaming about this.” 

“You really are an asshole, aren’t you?” Eijirou chuckles. “How did Hiroo react? Did he—are you alright?”

Katsuki grimaces. “It was… awkward, kind of. But again, we both tried to talk it out, and he understood me completely. He was feeling the same thing, so we both apologized and parted ways.”

“Well, I’m glad you guys had the chance to talk about it.” Eijirou stretches, yawning a little bit. “I mean, it’s what you both deserve.”

“You’re right. I’m very sorry for everything I’ve done, Ei. I—it’s gettin’ better, talking about my feelings.” 

“You’re an idiot,” he says, and Katsuki laughs loudly, finally feeling at home. “Really, dude.” 

“You’re the fuckin’ idiot, dumbass,” Bakugou retorts wetly. “What were you even thinking when you were doing that?”

Eijirou scoffs, trying to hide his face between his hands. Tugging lightly, Katsuki takes his right hand. 

“Is that a yes?” Katsuki asks. “Do you think we—is it possible we try again?”

Eijirou hums, leaving the blond waiting for his answer. It's petty, he knows it, but after suffering for months, the least Katsuki deserves is to wait minutes for a reply.

"Well, I'll just tell you this," Eijirou starts slowly. "I'm not accepting that type of disrespect again, ever. If you pull that move again, Katsuki, I swear to god, I won't come back." His tone is harsh, trying to make a point.

"I'll talk about my feelings, I promise," Bakugou replies, with no sign of lying. "You—you deserve better, and I'm willing to risk everything for you, even my dignity."

"Good," Eijirou replies shyly. "I always wanted to get better with you, anyway."

Tugging him closer, Eijirou crashes his lips against Katsuki's.

It feels like breathing, giving him the peace he's been aching for for months now.

The kiss is both desperate and slow. Deep, yet with the same innocence they had the first time they kissed, when they were sixteen.

"I love you, Katsuki," Eijirou pants against the other. "I will always love you."

"I love you more, Eijirou. I'll come back to you every single time, no matter what."

And for the last time, the redhead is certain he means it.