#blastyexplodo

kirishima waits until it’s exactly 12am to shoot bakugou a text. 

[ txt: KING BLASTY 💥 ] HAAAAPPY BDAY BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!! [ txt: KING BLASTY 💥 ] 🎉 🎊🎁🎈🎈🎁🎊🎉 [ txt: KING BLASTY 💥 ] UR SO OLD NOW WWWW [ txt: KING BLASTY 💥 ] but hey [ txt: KING BLASTY 💥 ] some bday advice [ txt: KING BLASTY 💥 ] u should totally go out on ur balcony [ txt: KING BLASTY 💥 ] :D 

he knows that their last.... talk on the balcony didn’t really go smoothly. too many tears, too much frustration, too much pain. but he wants to show his friend that he can power through any awkwardness for the sake of their relationship. their totally PLATONIC relationship. because bakugou is right, they can’t just awkwardly dance around each other for the next two years hoping it’ll resolve itself. they have to roll with the punches! like heroes! like MEN! 

so here he waits, until the familiar sound of the sliding door clicks and slides open. the blonde will be immediately greeted by kirishima’s smiling face when he looks over at the other balcony, illuminated by a soft glow of a large #1 candle lit atop a ( kind of uneven ) red velvet cake.   “ i know you’re not one obviously but i thought of it like. you’re number one, yanno? or you’re gonna be anyway. “ 

   he tries his absolute best not to reach into the touch, but he’s a sleepy boy, and sleepy boys don’t usually follow when their brains tell them. kirishima’s head tilts upward slightly into the touch. eyes glance upward toward the hand at his words, humming.

CHAPTER ?

this story starts at the end. that’s all. 

          you wouldn’t think to touch the sea with two hands or to gather up the saltwater in a hug. there’s an obvious lack of satisfaction, as the water slips through your fingers, but you’re still disappointed regardless –– like anyone could actually love deep - sea fish anyways. it’s laughable. you laugh. but, oh, this was about a story, wasn’t it? not you, and certainly not your ridiculous desire to hug the sea. fine, lets start with this: there’s a body. a woman’s body. that’s the end, get it? because her skin is shredded in punctured lacerations, crescent wounds, and her flesh lays limply off of the bone. it’s almost like clothes –– like everyone simply puts their skin on in the morning and sheds it before bed. anyways, anybody could guess that she died of blood - loss and quite slowly, too, if we’re judging by the lacked severity of each gash. that’s an oxymoron. the murder is brutal and she (bodies lose their names when they’re dead) died naked and strapped down, with sharp teeth gnawing at her throat, over and over, probably screaming. lamenting, why, why would you do this to me? 

sends love

//Takes all ur love and shoves it in my hat

kirishima has a habit of not always paying attention to his surroundings at times. especially when he’s walking a path he’s taken often enough on a sunday evening to MEMORIZE. earbuds snugly inside, he hums a tune as eyes flutter shut at the song’s chorus, just as he makes a turn. and just in time to CRASH right into someone else.