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Kirishima adjusted his shirt collar and took one last look in the mirror at his perfectly combed and gelled hair. He looked good. He had to give himself credit. The red jacket went perfectly with the tailored black pants and white shirt that hugged every muscle of his body. He stared at the collar for a moment and finally decided to unbutton two more buttons to reveal his collarbones. Yes. That was how it should be. He felt strange covering up his body. Everyone saw him half-naked all the time anyway. He hardly had anything left to hide. He rolled up his sleeves and fastened a gold bracelet on his wrist, one he’d bought with Bakugou years ago as a memento of their rescue mission in Kamino.
Just the thought of Bakugou made him smile. Yesterday, they’d spent the whole day together packing up their rooms. Something Bakugou could have finished in two hours dragged on for a whole day just because he’d decided to help Kirishima. Not only did it take him a long time because of the mess, but he also stopped at every single item and reminisced, as if he were sixty years old and telling his grandchild about his high school experiences. Bakugou rolled his eyes, but he stayed silent and let him talk, filling the silence between them, which grew louder and louder as more and more things disappeared.
When they both looked around their bare rooms that evening—filled with piles of boxes and a bed made up with the plain white sheets they’d received from the school—they felt a slight twinge in their hearts. It was here. The end of school. Graduation. In a week, they would become working heroes. No training, no exams. They had to ace everything on the first try. People’s lives and the protection of the population would depend on it. It seemed too demanding for a group of eighteen-year-old new adults.
They both felt that way, so they decided to spend their last evening in the main room, where they ran into several of their classmates. They, too, had that strange nostalgia on their faces, a mix of joy and sadness that confused their hearts. Together they cooked, watched a movie, and talked. Some played a game, while others just sat there looking around, soaking up the pleasant atmosphere and letting time pass. To pause, at least for a moment, and be children once more before saying goodbye and going their separate ways.
Aizawa and King Vlad had one more, final surprise in store for them. A party with loud music, dancing, and even a few drinks for those who were of age. A farewell to the school, to which all the graduates were invited, but above all, it was a farewell between classes 3-A and 3-B.
Kirishima decided he had to dress up for such an occasion. Kaminari laughed at him, even though he himself had put on tight jeans with ripped knees, a semi-sheer T-shirt, and a leather jacket. He sprayed his hair with glitter gel, and Ashido helped him apply makeup around his eyes. Kaminari made the party his own. Maybe that’s how most of his friends saw it—letting their imaginations run wild and deciding to feel grown-up for the first time. But for Kirishima, it meant being elegant. He wanted to make an impression, to show his maturity through the masculinity and charisma that had built up inside him over the years.
What would Bakugou be wearing? The thought flashed through his mind, and he chuckled as he pictured him in a tank top and baggy sweatpants. Aizawa had said the party was mandatory, and for Bakugou, that meant he’d try to rebel a little. He didn’t like it when someone told him what to do, and even though he respected Aizawa, there was still that little gremlin inside him who did whatever he wanted. Especially now that he knew he was out of danger and would be leaving school soon.
“Shall we go?” asked Tetsutetsu, who was getting dressed next to him because the dry cleaners had mixed up their jackets and they’d had to swap them. They were the same size, and even had the same taste. The only thing that differed was the colors. Tetsu’s shirt was black, his pants white, and his jacket blue. They really looked like twins, despite the differences in their faces. “Do you think Kendo will like me?” he asked cautiously as he, like Kirishima, unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt.
“Sure, buddy,” he said, giving him a manly pat on the shoulder, “she’ll be blown away.”
“I hope her panties will blow away.”
Kirishima playfully shoved him. “Pervert.”
“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t want the same thing with Bakugou.”
“Stop it,” he asked him. He was one of the few who knew about his crush on his best friend. He supported him, even tried to force him to confess to Bakugou—maybe just for fun, so he could comfort him when the blond rejected him—but Kirishima decided he’d never do it. Their friendship was more important to him. He’d rather spend his nights drowning in longing for his embrace and kisses than destroy the strong bond they shared. Someday, Bakugou would surely find someone to love, and Kirishima had decided he would stand by his side and support him just as strongly as he had until now. His emotions couldn’t stand in their way.
“You don’t like the idea of Bakugou in panties?”
Kirishima’s face flushed. “Stop it!”
“Would you get a hard-on?”
He grabbed Tetsutetsu by the collar and started wrestling with him. They were laughing, but Kirishima’s face was red with embarrassment, and Tetsutetsu’s was red from lack of oxygen. After a few minutes, with the redhead clearly in control, he tapped him on the elbow a few times. “I give up, I give up,” he shouted. When Kirishima let him go, he rubbed his red neck and coughed. “I’ll never say it again,” he promised him.
“Please!” Kirishima cried out, still with a fair amount of shyness.
Finally, they left the dorm and made their way to the Gamma gym, which had been transformed into an entertainment hub for the day. Colors were everywhere. There was a makeshift bar staffed by underclassmen. Jirou stood behind the DJ booth, playing the biggest hits of recent years. Everyone was having fun; some were dancing, others were chatting with their friends. Laughter echoed everywhere. It was a bit warm in the room, but nothing uncomfortable enough to make Kirishima take off his jacket. No, he wanted to make an impression. On himself, and maybe a little on Bakugou, whom he hadn’t spotted in the crowd yet.
“Are you looking for someone?” Kirishima turned around and was about to turn back when the boy grabbed his arm and turned him to face him. “Isn’t it rude not to return a greeting?”
“What do you want, Monoma?” Kirishima had never really liked him. In fact, he had no idea what it was about that small, blond man that irritated him so much. Some said he was just like Bakugou—their personalities complemented each other in a strange way, especially after they decided to be friends after the war and started getting along, sharing inside jokes that Kirishima didn’t understand. It bothered him when Monoma could make Bakugou laugh more than he could.
Monoma ignored his tone. On the contrary, he always found it amusing to make that kind, friendly Kirishima see red. He didn’t know why, but he liked having that control over his emotions. “He’s buying us drinks,” he said, without answering his question.
Kirishima didn’t need to ask who he was talking about. He automatically turned around and scanned the crowd gathered at the bar. He didn’t have to look long. Bakugou was impossible to miss. Not just because of his height and his bright, blond hair, but also because of the energy radiating from him. Including just how perfect he looked. Kirishima had to gasp for air to get even a little bit of it into his lungs. Bakugou looked—stunning. He’d already learned to wear his school uniform with a tie, ironed so as not to offend anyone; his clothes were casual, loose-fitting, never showing off his body except for his toned arms, which practically begged for someone to poke them with a finger and see if they were as firm as they looked. Now, however, he was wearing tight jeans and a black shirt, unbuttoned at the neck just like him, but unlike him, he was showing off a gold chain he’d received from his mother after returning from the war. He wore the same bracelet as him. His hair was combed and gelled to one side, and he wore glasses on his nose—glasses he only wore in the privacy of his room. They were clear, rimless, and made him look older, smarter, more irresistible.
“I picked out that shirt for him,” Monoma said proudly.
For a moment, Kirishima forgot he wasn’t alone. He quickly shut his mouth and cleared his throat. He didn’t need Monoma to start making fun of him. He wasn’t in the mood for that today. Monoma looked him over, raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Bakugou had just turned around, holding two glasses of colorful drinks. When he noticed Kirishima, he straightened up and puffed out his chest. As if he wanted to show off his beautiful body just a little more. Kirishima wasn’t angry at all. He strode through the crowd, which parted for him as if the whole place belonged to him, and walked over to his friends. He handed one glass to Monoma, who took a sip immediately and grunted contentedly. “Hi,” he said in his rough, deep voice, and Kirishima’s heart skipped a beat.
“H-Hi,” he stammered nervously, as if he were seeing his friend for the first time. He cleared his throat. “What are you drinking?”
“Ask him,” he pointed at Monoma, grabbed a straw, and took a sip. He grimaced. “It’s fucking sweet.”
“And strong,” Monoma said contentedly, “you’ll thank me in a few minutes.”
“Is there alcohol in that?” Kirishima asked, sniffing Bakugou’s glass. He let him.
“Sure. We’re at a party,” Monoma said, as if it were obvious.
“You don’t drink,” Kirishima told Bakugou, as if he wanted to remind him of something about himself that he’d forgotten.
Bakugou shrugged. “I wanted to try it.” Kirishima noticed that his face was red. Had he already had a drink or two? Or was there something more to it? He looked nervously at Monoma, who was grinning constantly. What was going on here?
“That looks good.” Tetsutetsu suddenly appeared next to Monoma, and without asking, took a sip of his drink through the straw. Monoma snapped at him, but the gray-haired man ignored him. “Damn, that’s strong.” He started coughing.
“You’re going to get drunk,” Kendou said as she joined them and started patting Tetsutetsu on the back to help him stop choking.
“I don’t mind,” Monoma said, looking at the crowd dancing on the dance floor in front of them, “I want to enjoy my last night at UA.” A new song came on over the speakers. “God, I love this song,” he said contentedly, and even with his glass in hand, he took a step toward the dance floor. Immediately after, he turned to his friends and raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you coming?”
Kirishima definitely hadn’t planned on it. Tetsutetsu glanced nervously at Kendou. Was this perhaps his chance to finally ask her to dance? Before any of them could say anything, Bakugou smacked his lips and took a sip from his glass. “I’m going,” he said decisively and stood next to his equally blond friend.
Kirishima stared at him in surprise. “R-Really? You?”
“What, can’t I have some fun too?”
“Who are you, and what did you do to Bakugo?” Everyone laughed.
“Come on, Monoma, let’s leave these party poopers to not enjoy the party.” Monoma happily walked with Bakugou to the center of the dance floor.
“Come on, Kendou,” he said resolutely, grabbing his classmate’s hand before she could protest. She hadn’t planned on this. Just like Monoma, she wanted to enjoy the evening.
Kirishima stood there alone for a moment until he spotted Bakugou in the crowd. He was swaying to the beat, showing off his graceful curves and his gorgeous smile, which melted across his face after Monoma whispered something in his ear and they both burst out laughing. Kirishima felt like he’d heard it right next to his own ear. Some people said his laughter was loud, unpleasant, and sometimes even scary, but it didn’t strike him that way. It always made his heart race and forced a smile onto his own face.
Bakugou suddenly looked at him. Their eyes met. Kirishima’s heart skipped two beats. Bakugou smirked at him and raised his hand, gesturing for him to join them. Kirishima couldn’t refuse. He weaved his way through the crowd and soon stood next to his friend. It took only a few seconds before he loosened up and began not only dancing but also singing a familiar song that filled his body with energy and joy.
They danced like that in a circle for several songs. Every now and then they shouted something to each other or sang along. After a while, Sero and Ashido joined them, and every now and then Kaminari or Awase and Momo would drift among them; they’d decided to spend the night together and perhaps, beyond school, put an end to their subtle circling around each other and take a step that would show them if they were meant for each other. Both of them were adorably flushed. Maybe from the dancing, maybe from that feeling of anticipation and longing.
The song slowly faded out, and Jirou’s voice came over the speakers, announcing that it was time to slow things down a bit. Soon after, dynamic yet intimate tones filled the hall. The lights dimmed slightly, taking on a blue and pink hue. It wasn’t a romantic song, yet it encouraged the dancers to spread out and dance closer to each other than necessary. The magnetic pull of the music drew everyone toward one another.
Kirishima looked at Bakugou. He had been studying him with his eyes for some time. He was already holding an empty glass in his hand. Kirishima cleared his throat. “Do-Do you want…” Bakugou began to breathe rapidly. Should he ask him to dance? Would that be okay? Could he be sure he wouldn’t jeopardize their friendship by pressing himself against him, and could he guarantee his body wouldn’t react? He cleared his throat. “Want another one?” He pointed at the glass.
Bakugou looked at the glass, then at Kirishima. He frowned slightly. Still, he shoved the empty glass into his hand. “Go on.” There was nothing commanding in his voice. Just a hint of sadness. As if he’d been expecting Kirishima to ask him something else. “I’ll wait here.”
Don't be stupid, Eijirou, Bakugou doesn't feel that way about you," Kirishima chided himself silently as he pushed his way through the crowd toward the bar. There were fewer people around him than he had expected. Everyone wanted to have fun for a while and dance with someone close to their hearts. Kirishima noticed Midoriya and Uraraka dancing in the corner, their foreheads pressed against each other. Midoriya had his eyes closed contentedly, while Uraraka watched him with love in her eyes. They looked adorable. Everyone wished them well.
Kirishima’s glass was soon full, and he returned to the spot where they had been dancing just a moment ago. But Bakugou wasn’t there anymore. He frowned. Had he gone to the restroom? He was sweating quite a bit; maybe he just needed to splash some water on his face.
“Someone beat you to it.” Kirishima had never had as much luck with Monoma as he did today. When he turned around, Monoma wasn’t smiling at him this time. He was frowning and looked tired, maybe a little annoyed. Kirishima tilted his head to the side in confusion. Monoma rolled his eyes. He’d love to slap that red-haired puppy reincarnation across the face. “You took too long, Redhead.” With that, he pointed toward the crowd.
Just a few steps away from them was Bakugou, and standing in front of him was a guy who, judging by his clothes, had been working at the bar just a moment ago. It was the same guy who had made Bakugou’s drink the first time. Apparently, he had excused himself for a moment so he could—
Kirishima swallowed hard. Of course. So that’s what Monoma meant. That boy had challenged Bakugou to a dance. He wanted to look away, to avoid watching, but he couldn’t. He tormented his heart, which was pounding and screaming for him to go over to them and get that boy as far away from Bakugoou as possible.
“That’s what you get for taking so long.”
“What are you talking about, Monoma?” He didn’t answer, just gave him an annoyed look. Kirishima swallowed hard. “Did Tetsutetsu tell you?”
“He didn’t have to. I can smell it coming off you a mile away.”
“R-Really?”
“Yeah.” Monoma set his empty glass down on the nearest table. “Come on. Let’s dance.” He didn’t wait for his answer, grabbed him by the wrist, and pushed him through the crowd close to Bakugou. They were only a few steps apart. Bakugou noticed them immediately. He wanted to join them, but the music slowed down even more. It had gone from dynamic to intimate, slowly turning into a slow dance. Monoma grabbed Kirishima around the shoulders and pulled him close. He whistled. “Grab my hips,” he advised him.
Kirishima obeyed. He didn’t even know why. He was used to taking orders and following them. It felt natural to him. Bakugou looked them over and glanced at Monoma in confusion. Monoma just winked at him. That seemed to calm Bakugou down. “Aren’t you going to do anything about this?” Monoma asked Kirishima, his gaze still fixed on Bakugou, whom the boy was getting closer to with every passing note.
“What should I do?” Kirishima asked, looking confused, and turned his gaze toward Monoma. He didn’t want to watch Bakugou touch that boy. It made his chest ache strangely. After all, he’d decided he’d never stand in the way of Bakugou’s happiness! That one day he’d support every decision Bakugou made, including his romantic ones. So why…
“Really? I didn’t take you for a pussy.”
“I’m not…” He bit his tongue. Monoma was right. It bothered him. But he couldn’t say anything. His smile was forced, and the tone in his voice was fake. “What would I get out of it?”
“What do you mean?”
Kirishima dug his fingers into Monoma’s side. He hissed. It tickled. “Bakugou doesn’t feel this way about me.”
Monoma was already taking a breath to say something, but he changed his mind. Bakugou was right. Kirishima had low self-esteem and put Katsuki on a pedestal he could only bow down to. He wouldn’t admit that they could be anything more than “just” friends. It was almost as if he should thank him just for having met him. It got on Bakugou’s nerves. Plus, it was holding them back. We could have been spending our evenings kissing instead of studying a long time ago, Bakugou once confessed to him in the quiet of the night, when they were sipping wine together for the first time and his cheeks were flushed not only from the alcohol but also from the shame of his secret desires.
Instead, Monoma said, “You can’t say that for sure until you try it.”
Kirishima looked at him sadly. “But—”
“Don’t be a wimp, Kirishima.” With that, he grabbed Kirishima by the chin and forced him to turn toward Bakugou. He flinched.
The boy was just as close to Bakugou as he had been to Monoma. He had one arm around Bakugou’s waist and was stroking his shoulder with the other. Bakugou didn’t seem to like it, but neither tried to pull him away. When the boy’s hand began to move higher, toward his face, he flinched slightly. But not enough to pull away. Rather, it was because he hadn’t expected anyone to touch him so gently. He blinked a few times. He said something. Kirishima didn’t hear him. He couldn’t even read his lips. Yet he was sure there was nothing threatening or aggressive in it. Just interest. Interest that made Kirishima’s stomach clench. Did Bakugou like this boy?
The boy smiled. He revealed his perfect teeth, and a silver ring moved on his lip, the same as the ones in his ears and eyebrows. He looked tough. He had charisma. More than Kirishima had. His hair was black, slicked back, shaved on the sides. A tattoo was visible on his neck. UA was one of the few high schools that was very lenient about how their students looked. But he had to be younger than them, probably still a minor.
He moved his hand a little higher, toward Bakugou’s ear. He rubbed his earlobe, which had a black earring in it. Bakugou parted his lips slightly, and his lower lip trembled. His face was flushed. From alcohol? Heat? Or did this situation excite him, and did he want the boy to continue?
“Kirishima, that hurts.” Only now did the redhead realize he’d been gripping Monoma tightly around the waist until his own quirk manifested on his fingers. He quickly brought it under control and let go.
“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.
“You’re lucky you didn’t burn a hole in my pants; those weren’t exactly cheap.” An empty threat he didn’t even mean seriously. Instead, he grabbed Kirishima by the shoulder and shoved him toward Bakugo. “Go do something useful, grab your manly balls, and go get him.”
“But—”
He heard it. A quiet sigh. Soft, almost inaudible. No one else had surely noticed it over the music. But he did. Because he knew that voice. He heard it every day, several times. In his ears, on the phone, in recorded messages, through the wall of his room, when sometimes he cursed, sometimes he laughed, and sometimes he made choked sounds that signalled he was indulging in a moment when he forgot who he was and, for a moment, was just a young man giving in to his own pleasure. He could recognize his moans even amid the noise of the whole world.
He flinched. He looked ahead.
The boy was dangerously close, almost brushing against Bakugou. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly parted. His hands were outstretched as if he were trying to push the boy away, but something stopped him. Perhaps it was the boy’s warm hands on his hip, or on his neck. Or perhaps it was because the boy was leaning toward him, low, as if he wanted to kiss his neck?
Kirishima’s blood was boiling. He saw red.
He had no idea what had happened. Everything around him suddenly seemed shrouded in fog. He just stared straight ahead, knowing he had to do something. Bakugou was his. His!
“W-What?”
Kirishima blinked. How had he gotten so close? Suddenly, he was holding the boy by the wrist, a little higher than his own height, so the boy was standing on his tiptoes to keep Kirishima from breaking his hand. With his other hand, Bakugou pulled him close to his body and pressed him against his chest. Bakugou pressed against his arm, his heart pounding so hard they could both feel it through their clothes.
The boy gasped in pain. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know he was taken.”
Kirishima let him go. He should have said it wasn’t true. That he and Bakugou were just friends. But instead, he pulled him even closer. He looked at the boy coldly, activated his quirk, and with a hardened finger, grabbed the leg of Bakugou’s jeans, pulling the blond so close that they were practically pressed against each other.
He didn’t say a word. He was barely breathing. He simply jerked his hand and began dragging Bakugou behind him like a dog, and Bakugou let him. They pushed through the crowd; Kirishima felt as if everyone was stepping aside for them. Maybe he looked as unapproachable as he felt. He pushed open the door to the emergency exit, and they stepped outside.
He let go of Bakugou and took a few steps forward. He began to breathe deeply. The air was cold, even though it was well into summer and the evenings were warm. This time, though, he was shivering. From emotion? From the cold? He couldn’t tell. His hands were trembling. He wanted to smash something. Or rather—to break something on someone. What was it? Why was it taking such a hold of him?
He flinched when he felt a hot touch on his bare forearm. He glanced to the side. Bakugou was standing right next to him. He was holding his arm with both hands. They were so close that their breath mingled into one. “Kiris—” He didn’t even get to finish when Kirishima grabbed his face with his free hand and pulled him hard toward his own face. He pressed their lips together. It was rough, harsh, maybe even a little uncomfortable. Their teeth clashed carelessly. Yet Bakugou let out a quiet moan. More, bolder than on the dance floor, yet similar. Kirishima didn’t like that. He wanted him to make those joyful sounds that belonged only to him.
He jerked his hand away to release him and placed both palms on his cheeks. He was burning. Sparks were flying from Bakugou’s hands. He didn’t comment on it. He didn’t care. He wanted to kiss him. To smother him with kisses until he begged him to stop, just so he could move them a little lower to his neck and bite him there, leaving a mark he could show off to everyone.
“K-Kirishima,” Bakugou whispered excitedly against their joined lips and tried to pull away from him. Kirishima wouldn’t let him. Instead, he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into Bakugou’s mouth and began to explore it. Bakugou’s head spun. From the emotions, from the lack of air. He felt like he was going to fall to the ground at any moment, but he wasn’t afraid. He knew Kirishima would catch him in time, and he’d wake up in his arms, ready for another round of his hot kisses.
Kirishima, however, needed to catch his breath too; he pulled away from him, but not far. He was afraid Bakugou would run away. He didn’t want to give him a chance to think about it. “Not like this,” Kirishima whispered in a voice that was still roughening. He rested his forehead against Bakugou’s and breathed heavily. “No one will ever touch you like this, okay?”
“O-Okay?” Bakugou was taken aback; he had no idea what was going on. His head was spinning.
“You’re only mine,” Kirishima growled. He hadn’t had a drink, but he still felt drunk on Bakugou’s scent and presence.
Bakugou swallowed loudly. “K-Kirishima…”
“Did you understand me, Katsuki?” Bakugou shuddered. It was the first time he’d said his first name. He opened his eyes, but only for a moment, just a little; his eyelids were heavy, and his knees were still buckling. “You’re mine,” Kirishima whispered, pulling away from him slightly. The jealousy was slowly fading from his body. Rational thoughts were returning to his mind. His face began to flush with shame at what he had done. But there was no turning back now. “Or not?”
“What kind of question is that?” Bakugou asked, chuckling. “I’ve always been yours, Eijirou.” His name sounded so natural, so sweet on his tongue. “So stop talking and just kiss me already.”
Kirishima felt no need to argue with him.
“Damn,” Tetsutetsu whispered as he leaned against the cold wall and laughed when he saw Kirishima and Bakugou kissing passionately. “He really did it.”
“Tch, don’t think so highly of him,” Monoma laughed and took a sip from his full glass, which this time shimmered with the colors of the sunset. “This was all Bakugou’s idea. Kirishima just got swept up in it. With a little help from me,” he smiled and turned his head away as they pulled apart and Kirishima began kissing Bakugo’s neck. “Let’s go. We don’t need to watch them fuck in backyard.” With that, they both returned to the gym, leaving the two of them to succumb to the mutual desire they’d hidden behind friendship for so many months and locked away in their hearts.