Kirishima woke from another one of those dreams, face burning with embarrassment once he realised they weren't real and he was having fantasies about living - romantically - with his best friend. His toes curled as he cursed his mind, wishing he could just force these feelings away. This was Bakugo, for crying out loud!

Dear god, he was crushing on Bakugo Katsuki.

His traitorous eyes flickered over to the edge of the bed, but was unsurprised to see the futon on the floor neatly made up and empty, and the sound of running water echoed from the bathroom in front of him. Kirishima sighed and swung his legs out of bed, trudging over to his dresser to grab his school clothes.

After shrugging them on, he patiently waited outside of the bathroom for Bakugo to emerge, mentally willing himself not to stare as Bakugo would be-

- wet and hot and delicious -

-and he knew, from experience, that such a sight was breathtaking. Kirishima's mind would turn to mush, his bones to jelly, not to mention not a limb would listen to his brain when it told him to move away, direct your gaze someplace else that wasn't Bakugo's rippling abs covered in water droplets that slid between the creases of his muscles...

The sound of the water shutting off snapped Kirishima out of his reverie and he plastered on a smile just as Bakugo ripped the door open, scowl in place.

"G'morning, Bakugo!" Kirishima greeted cheerfully, forcing his eyes to stay on his friend's face and not wander. Bakugo didn't return the grin, clicking his tongue and stalking past Kirishima.

"Stop being so fucking loud," he grumbled, Kirishima's eyes following him around the room. "It's too fucking early."

Kirishima laughed, wrenching his gaze off of Bakugo's slick back as he sauntered into the en-suite. "Ah, sorry," he said, opening the cabinet under his sink and pulling out the hair gel. "You know me, man. Always loud."

"Annoying," Kirishima heard Bakugo mutter, and he laughed as he coated his fingers in the clear liquid and ran them through his strands. Kirishima's reflection in the mirror showed no signs of black at his roots, and he mentally commended Bakugo on doing such a good job with his hair dye.

After ten minutes or so, his hair was spiked and the gel was set, and Kirishima emerged from the bathroom. As usual, Bakugo was sitting on the bed waiting for him, and the simple act made Kirishima feel a little warm inside. Their relationship really had progressed from the beginning of the year.

"Fucking finally," Bakugo grunted, pocketing his phone and trudging over to the door. Although he seemed to express exasperation at every opportunity at Kirishima's morning routine, never once did Bakugo tell him to change it. Maybe it was simply because he didn't care, but Kirishima liked to think (and part of him believed) that it was because Bakugo really understood him, understood that the gel and the dye are what made Kirishima feel right, feel sane. That Bakugo could see that those things were what kept him going most of the time, and at those thoughts, the warm fuzzy feeling intensified.

Throughout the school day, Kirishima's eyes kept flicking over to stare at the back of the blond's head from across the classroom, noting the way he slouched, tapped his pen against his fingers, occasionally closed his eyes as if to refrain from committing some heinous act - and Kirishima wasn't oblivious to the factor that the latter often happened when Midoriya spoke.

In fact, Kirishima's eyes stayed on his best friend all day. Clearly, he hadn't been subtle about it because at lunch, when Bakugo was elsewhere, Mina took the opportunity to confront him about it, backed up by Kaminari and Sero.

"Kiri!" Mina whisper-yelled, some odd combo she did when she was excited. Both of her hands were on his shoulders and she shook him violently. "What the hell?"

"What?" Kirishima protested, prying himself out of her grasp. He sent a look to Kaminari and Sero, but both of them had knowing smirks on their faces. "What!"

"Dude," Sero began.

"DUDE," Kaminari gaped. "You've been, like, staring at Bakugo all day." He leaned across the table. "Do you-"

"DO YOU LIKE HIM?" Mina shrieked, then quickly lowered her voice when a few people looked over in bemusement, the background noise momentarily dimming.

Kirishima gave her an incredulous look. "Keep it down!"

At his words, Mina's whole demeanour changed - her shoulders relaxed and her face slackened and her mouth fell open. "Oh, my god," she breathed, eyes sparkling. "You do like him! Oh, this is so cute!" She let out a small squeal and collapsed backwards, resting on the back of their booth.

Sero grinned. "I'm glad you finally realised it. It was so obvi-"

"Obvious!" Kaminari burst, ignoring the look Sero sent him. "You were always pining and stuff."

Kirishima wanted to disappear. "Shut up," he groaned, resting his head on the table. As soon as he did, he felt slim arms wrap around his body. "Aw, Kiri, don't-"

"What the fuck are you morons doing?"

"Ah! Bakugo!" Kirishima beamed, sitting up and shrugging Mina off, scooting along to make room for the blond who was glaring at them all. He smoothly ignored the look that Sero and Kaminari shared from across the table with a grin as he patted the space beside him. "What'd you get for lunch?"

Bakugo's eyebrows twitched, like he could see something behind the smile Kirishima was giving him, but didn't comment on it. "Whatever shit they were serving."

"I got udon!"

---

"Okay, out with it."

Bakugo huffed, not turning to face him as he scrubbed the remainder of his eyeliner off his face. Hero training had been rough today, but not even a lengthy shower could wash away whatever industrial marker Bakugo put on his face. "The fuck you mean?"

Kirishima rolled his eyes and flopped backwards onto his mattress, clad in his loose and comfortable pyjamas. He kept his gaze centered on the blond from his awkward angle. "You've been wanting to say something all evening, bro. Just tell me."

"I've no clue what shit you're on, Shitty Hair," came the taut reply, snapped but lacking it's usual bite. The retort only strengthened Kirishima's suspicions.

Sighing loudly, Kirishima shifted on the fiery comforter to get into a better position that wasn't making his back groan at him. The night cancelled all light that could stream through the gaps in his curtains, and the small lamp in the corner cast a comforting orange glow across the room. "You don't need to hide stuff from me, Bakugo. You're my best friend!"

Even Kirishima noticed the way Bakugo froze, as if his body momentarily forgot how to function, before he continued. "Whatever," he muttered, tossing the now-blackened wipe into the trash.

"So you'll tell me?"

"No."

A weighty silence settled over them both, and Kirishima was certain that Bakugo did want to tell him. "How about this?" he proposed, waving a hand as Bakugo trudged back into the main bedroom. "We'll play a game. I'll tell you one thing about me, or something that I don't think you'll know, and then you tell me something! That way, it won't be one sided."

At first, Kirishima thought Bakugo was going to refuse again, shut off his emotions as he always did and not talk about whatever was bottled up inside, but a drooping of the shoulders told Kirishima that Bakugo had given in. "Fine, Shitty Hair. But if you start saying some weird shit, I'm going to sleep."

Proud that his improvised plan had born fruit, Kirishima grinned. "I'll start!" he said, sitting upright on the bed and making room for Bakugo, who gingerly sat beside him. The skin around his eyes was red, like it had been rubbed raw, and Kirishima briefly wondered if it stung. "When I was younger-"

My father used to-

"-I used to pretend I was invisible," he finished seamlessly, chuckling. "I would wander around school acting as if no one could see me, to see how long I could I get away with it for."

Bakugo frowned. "That's fucking weird."

"I know!" Kirishima laughed, bumping shoulders with him.

The frown maintained, Bakugo added, "It's not like you'd get away with it anyway - your stupid ass is friendly with everyone, people'd notice if you weren't talking and shit. Also, your hair is stupid."

"Bro, my hair hasn't been red forever. You know I dye- you helped me dye it!" Kirishima paused. "Besides...I haven't always been this outgoing."

Whether it was the way his voice grew quieter, or the way his body twisted slightly to the right as if to turn away from possible confrontation, Bakugo didn't push it.

"Guess it's my turn then, Shitty Hair," he grumbled. Kirishima tensed, ready for Bakugo to spill whatever had been bothering him, but was sorely disappointed. "I actually used to be really good friends with Deku."

A beat of silence, then Kirishima's lips twisted into a grin as he burst into laughter. It wasn't what he had been hoping to hear, but it was (cute) funny to hear that Bakugo was so oblivious to Midoriya's behaviour. "Bro," he panted between chuckles. "We all know that. It's, like, all Midoriya used to talk about."

Bakugo's face darkened. "That fucking nerd-" he spat, fingers clenching around the sheet as he tried to control his anger. Kirishima just tried to control how much he was laughing as he patted at Bakugo's shoulder in a futile attempt to calm him.

"Okay, okay, it's my turn," Kirishima said, regaining his handle of his breathing. "You probably know this because I'm awful at hiding things like this, but I'm gay."

Oh god, why did he say that? What if Bakugo wasn't accepting of that kind of stuff? What if it drove him away, made things awkward? Sure, he doubted Bakugo was homophobic, he didn't seem like the type, but the whole situation itself could just make everything super uncomfortable for them both. Would Bakugo still look him in the eyes? Still train with him? Tutor him? What if-

"So?" a sharp voice cut through the darkness. "Why should that even fucking matter? Like anyone should give a shit in the first place."

Coming from anyone else, Kirishima could have taken the words to be meant harshly, uncaring. But the tone he used, the carefully placed way of each word in each sentence gave the impression that that wasn't what Bakugo intended at all. Just the thought made him a little fuzzy inside.

"So...you don't, you know, mind?" Kirishima affirmed, albeit slightly unsure.

Bakugo snorted indignantly, looking away. "Why would I give a shit?"

Quirking up the corner of his lip, Kirishima chucked. "Thanks, bro." There was a comfortable silence that followed, until Bakugo broke it.

"Fine."

Kirishima blinked. "Fine?"

"Fine, I'll tell you since you're being so fucking nosy and shit," Bakugo snapped, shifting on the bed as if he was uncomfortable. Kirishima said nothing. "It's just...the fucking Kamino shit."

Ah. Of course it was. "Bakugo-"

"Shut up and let me talk," he snapped, but there was no bite behind his words. They just sounded...tired. Or annoyed. Or both.

Angrily scraping his fingers through his scalp, Bakugo deliberately averted his eyes. "All this shit, with villain's always coming after me, capturing me, making me seem weak when all I need to be is strong! It's bullshit! Every time I manage to make people forget, something else comes back to bite me in the ass! It's like nothing I ever do will erase the fact that I'm too fucking weak against all these villains, the people I'm supposed to be stronger than. And then there's these fucking nightmares that won't go away, almost every night." Bakugo's leg kicked out and hit his pillow, the force sending it flying across the room and smacking into the wall. "That's my sixth pillow, you know that? My sixth fucking pillow, because my Quirk goes fucking mental with each shitty dream I have, and BOOM-" the blond imitated an explosion with his hands, wrenching them apart and almost hitting Kirishima in the face. "-say goodbye to my REM."

Honestly, Kirishima was surprised Bakugo talked so much. The guy was so reserved, shut off. Maybe he...no, Bakugo definitely needed to get that off his chest. Before Kirishima could get a word in (not that he was sure what he was going to say), Bakugo spat out:

"Tell anyone and I'll kill you."

Kirishima chuckled, placing a hand on Bakugo's shoulder. "I won't. You trusted me, man, and I value that."

At his touch, Bakugo quickly glanced at him, then looked away. He looked embarrassed. "Whatever, Shitty Hair."

"Seriously, Bakugo. Whenever you need to talk, I'm here," Kirishima vowed sincerely giving Bakugo's shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Bakugo got up slowly, still not looking at him. "Whatever, I said," he muttered, but whether it was the softness in his tone, or his posture in the way he stood, or the red tinge of his ears, it told Kirishima that Bakugo understood, that Bakugo trusted him.

There was none of the sadness Kirishima usually felt as he lay down, bidding his roommate goodnight as he snuggled under the covers. His hand rested by his side, forearm bare, not a fleeting thought of leaving some pining message in Kirishima's mind. Being around Bakugo was enough.

Finally, something was enough.