theme: the moments we stole
It starts like this — a kiss, just one. Soft, warm, pressed but barely so, a constant tingling pressure against his lips and brewing in his heart. It lasts a second too long to mean nothing, but to Eijirou it doesn’t last long enough. Before he knows it, his partner is pulling, pulling, pulling away and all that’s left is air, a swelling in his chest that whispers, stay, don’t go.
Autumn wind tousles blond hair the next time Eijirou remembers him, wind mussing hair thicker and longer than Eijirou knows from their school days. Strong winds press cool air against his face, and as they stand on the balcony of the other man’s apartment, silence stretching simply between them, all Kirishima recalls is his back — a broad, never-ending expanse of pearlish white, steady, strong and grounded against the winds.
They say it’s Kirishima who anchors him, whose sensibility pins down his seemingly anger-driven-fuel. They don’t see the full story. Out here, with the start of winter whispering against his cheeks and this man by his side, Kirishima cradles all the seasons they’ve spent together in a pocket tucked into his chest, a collection of his highest points and lowest lows.
The silhouette of Bakugo Katsuki is burnt in every single one of them.
His favourite place in UA was in Katsuki’s dorm. Nothing much happened there. Katsuki didn’t see the need of letting people into his room, no one but Eijirou ever getting to enter because Katsuki was never successful at tutoring someone else.
They did their homework, studied for tests. It was uneventful in the nicest of ways. Peace, stability; words that crept into Eijirou when he thought of Katsuki, never loud, or unpredictable. The moments of calm soothed him, a burning in his heart, a want to keep these memories safe, to keep it as his own.
Katsuki. Strong, resilient, intelligent, a risk-taker.
Eijirou. Positive, dedicated, caring, charismatic.
When will I be recognised for my skill?
Strength comes in more forms than one.
“What if I’m not good enough?”
They’re on the balcony, spring air soothing skin, the scent flora light and wafting. Katsuki’s balcony overlooks a park, cherry trees cheery on display, flower petals falling, falling; fall.
Katsuki takes a drag. He doesn’t speak. Instead, Kirishima is the one who continues.
“I mean, I know my quirk doesn’t have to be flashy, it’s strong—”
“Yea, being almost indestructible is pretty cool, but still I—”
“Not your quirk, dumbass.”
Katsuki turns away, silent for a long time. The billowing smoke thins, Eventually, the cigarette is nothing but ashes, sparks flickering with a flick of Katsuki’s wrist.
Finally, “Strong,” he starts, “ not your quirk.”
Kisses, slow at first, again, and again. Then, feverently, as though they were running out of time, Katsuki’s quilt soft under Eijirou’s body jarring to the taut planes of muscle against his chest. His hands snake their way into Katsuki’s hair, tentative, almost shy, and then he feels Katsuki’s fingers climb up his jaw, tickling the shell of his ear before they reach the base of his scalp.
Tangling his fingers in the fiery locks, Katsuki pulls, hard. The low buzz of pressure on his scalp works Eijirou up into a frenzy, their kisses becoming tongues, teeth and thrilling.
With him, EIjirou lets himself go.
“Kiss me,” he says, a summer morning before summer actually sets in. Spread out on the couch, Eijirou’s staring at Katsuki upside down. He wears a grin, lopsided and cocky like he knows Katsuki wouldn’t resist.
Katsuki doesn’t, coming up around the coffee table to lean over, bend far enough to press his chapped-dry lips to Eijirou’s slightly rough ones, one hand square on his chest to hold his weight. It lasts, seconds and seconds until Eijirou is tapping on Katsuki’s arm, weight and kiss both leaving him absolutely breathless.
He laughs, chest light and tingly when Katsuki yawns immediately after straightening himself, hand rubbing his eyes, trying to get them open. Katsuki grumbles for coffee, and Eijirou doesn’t even respond, getting up to put on the coffee machine anyway, takings eggs out of the carton and popping toast into the toaster.
When Katsuki comes to the table after freshening up, a plate of scrambled eggs and sunny-side-up on toast greeting him, his small, sleepy smile lights a fire in Eijirou’s chest.
