Sunday was an averagely normal day for Kirishima; at least, as normal as sharing a house with 20 or so superpowered teenagers can be. The power went out at around noon because Kaminari fell asleep with a charger in his mouth and subsequently had a mini-nightmare, causing the whole building to short circuit as well as himself. A bunch of the cutlery floated to the ceiling as Uraraka forbade anyone from eating until everyone was seated, and Mina 'accidentally' burnt a hole through Mineta's door when she caught him snooping around the girl's floor again.

While all of this was immensely amusing, Kirishima couldn't rid himself of the heavy burden he felt in his chest, weighing down his heart - and his happiness, it seemed, as throughout the day he felt as though every smile, every positive comment and friendly punch was fake. No one seemed to notice, all of his friends treating him exactly the same. Kirishima couldn't tell if that made him feel better or worse. Probably the latter.

What he didn't see, however, was whenever he was around Bakugo, the crimson irises appeared to follow him around the room, narrowed but not in irritation. It was a look no one had seen on the blond before, so they ignored it.

Only when the day of socialising, training and working out was over, did Kirishima finally collapse onto his bed, changed into his pyjamas and completely ready to succumb to the (hopefully) peaceful rest his sleep would bring. In this state, he wouldn't be surprised if another nightmare decided to rear its ugly head. Once Bakugo had shut off the lights after emerging from the bathroom, tucking himself into his own futon on the floor, did Kirishima speak.

"Hey...Bakugo?" His voice was quiet, almost timid, like whatever he was about to ask would be a taxing experience on both himself and the receiver.

There was silence, and for a moment Kirishkma pondered whether Bakugo had actually managed to fall asleep in the short time he had been lying down, but a grunt of acknowledgement told him otherwise. "What, Shitty Hair?" Usually, the words would be spat out, angry or at least mildly vexed, but these came out relatively calm.

Taking a deep breath, Kirishima rolled over so his head hung over the side of his bed. "Can I tell you something?"

Bakugo wasn't facing him, his eyes - whether they were open or closed, Kirishima had no idea - were boring into the wall, and he didn't reply. Kirishima took the opportunity to quickly disclaim some things. "You don't have to listen, you can go to sleep, or tell me to shut up if I'm being too loud or annoying, but I feel like I need to share these things with someone or I'm going to explode-"

"Get on with it, Hair-for-Brains."

"Hah...right..." Kirishima trailed off quietly, not sure how to continue. "I just...it's not very manly of me-"

"I said, get on with it."

Although the words were said with a snap, there was an undertone of sincerity to it that Kirishima couldn't quite place, but it made him realise that Bakugo really understood him. Like, really understood him.

"Okay...okay." He laughed awkwardly, the sound forced and almost strangled. "Sometimes..." Kirishima inhaled, preparing himself.

He'll never talk to you again after this.

"Sometimes, I feel like I can never be a hero."

The words were left open, empty in the air. Exposed.

Bakugo said nothing.

"I feel like, compared to everyone else, my Quirk is so...average. Boring. If you have someone who can run so fast you can barely see them, or someone who can immobilise villains before they've even made their first move, why would you need me? All I can do is harden my skin against attacks. I'm useless, right?" Kirishima gave a short, mirthless laugh.

Still, Bakugo said nothing.

"No one outside UA believes in me. My classmates, back in middle school? They were the only ones who told me the truth!" And now Kirishima was on a roll, word after word spewing out of his mouth like vomit, unable to stop himself. So what if Bakugo never wanted to speak to him after this? Kirishima would only be lying to him about who he really is, who he was, and now it's all in the open.

"Even my soulmate recognises it! They won't speak to me, did you know that? Never, once, have they answered one of my messages, or tried to initiate a conversation. Even they know I'm a useless, waste of space."

Had Kirishima been slightly more aware, slightly less invested on his emotional rant, he might have noticed the way Bakugo stiffened, body rigid, heart suddenly pounding.

Breathing heavily, Kirishima's eyes fluttered shut, trying to suppress the tears. "Pathetic, right?" he said weakly.

There was a shuffling of fabric, and Kirishima almost had a heart attack when two hands slammed down on his shoulders, holding him in place. He instinctively activated his Quirk, eyes snapping open to see Bakugo's face inches from his. There was a fiery intensity in his stare, and Kirishima felt mesmerised. "Ba...Bakugo?"

Bakugo narrowed his eyes into slits, gazing right into Kirishima's very core. "Don't you fucking dare say you're not worthy of becoming a hero!"

Stunned, Kirishima blinked, the tears forgotten at the sheer shock at the scene before him. "Wha-"

"You got into UA, didn't you?" Bakugo snapped, and the juxtaposition of his angry words and tone versus the meaning behind them was confusing Kirishima, and all he could do was stare. Bakugo pulled away, holding his gaze intensely. "You may not do the best in the theory exams, but all the Hero shit, you're fucking brilliant. Hell, Kirishima, you passed the Provisional Hero License before me. If you think you're not going to be a fucking hero, you're even stupider than I thought. You're better than half the fuckers in this class, and-" Bakugo cut himself off, his words stopping suddenly. He held Kirishima's gaze with an intensity Kirishima had never seen before. "You're the only person I want to graduate with me." Bakugo scoffed. "And fuck your soulmate. They couldn't hate you, because if they do they're stupider than you and have clearly never fucking met you. You're like a fucking ray of sunshine." Done with his reasoning, Bakugo stood up. "Now go to sleep, you stupid fucker."

Kirishima couldn't find any words, just blinking owlishly as Bakugo lay back down on the futon and rolled over. Eventually, Kirishima did the same. He smiled, feeling a high flush run across his cheeks and down his neck, but he ignored it.

Bakugo really does see me as an equal. As a friend.

---

"I'm home!" Kirishima yelled, walking in through the door, hands laden with heavy shopping bags. He kicked it shut with a bang and groaned, the harsh handles of the plastic bags digging into his fingers and cutting off the circulation. Various clattering and clanging could be heard from the kitchen, followed by a stream of colourful cursing, and then a head of blond, spiky hair poked out from a doorway to his left.

"'Bout fucking time," Katsuki said good-naturedly, waving a wooden spoon coated in a red sauce in his direction. "Now get in here, I need the fucking garlic."

Kirishima laughed, hauling the bags with him as he made his way over. The kitchen was decorated with various dirty dishes, looking like a bit of a bomb site. Kirishima placed the shopping on the counter as Katsuki furiously mixed together something in a big saucepan. Digging through the food, Kirishima pulled out the garlic and handed it to the blond, who snatched it and immediately began to cut it up. Despite the whole room being a total mess, Katsuki was surprisingly amazing at cooking, each dish being mouthwateringly delicious, and was often the highlight of Kirishima's day.

As he stood there, elbow resting on the countertop, Kirishima settled his eyes on the form of the man, his broad shoulders rippled with muscles barely hidden under his tight-fitting vest top, and he had that beautiful calm expression on his face that only ever seemed to show whenever he was at home, with Kirishima. It still made the redhead bubble happily inside.

Pushing off from the counter he had been leaning on as he admired the man at work, Kirishima casually sauntered over and wrapped his hands around Katsuki's waist, fitting naturally and comfortably in the curve. "How was your day?" Kirishima mumbled, inhaling the scent of burnt caramel and wood shavings, letting it wash over and calm him.

With an annoyed huff, Katsuki pushed an elbow back and forced Kirishima off him, although the motion was very tame and-

Loving?

"Not while I'm cooking," Katsuki protested, but it was half-hearted. "You'll make me spill something."

Kirishima sighed, then wandered away and sat at the table instead. "It's really nice for your agency to let you have some time off for this, Katsuki," Kirishima mused, gazing at the blond who paused in his antics.

"Yeah, if I didn't have to pester the fuckers for eight months," Katsuki complained, resuming his cooking. "Stupid agency."

Chuckling, Kirishima rested his chin on his hand. "How are the papers going? Did you make any progress today?"

At that, Kirishima noticed Bakugo start to chop some herbs more vigorously than usual. "I can't - ugh! I can't fucking believe people are so reluctant to let gay couples adopt. What, they think we can't be good fucking parents?"

Noticing that his boyfriend was getting too worked up, Kirishima was on him in and instant, hands cupping his face. "Hey," he soothed, thumbing at his cheek. Katsuki was breathing heavily, face flushed. "It's not that, okay? You're going to be a wonderful dad, I know it. But these things take time, yeah?"

Katsuki tch-ed, eyes flickering away from Kirishima's. "It just...it pisses me off."

"Well, that's why we've got to be patient," he reasoned, a small smile on his face. Katsuki's eyes focused on him again, and they stayed like that for a moment, gazing at each other.

"Are you gonna kiss me or what, Eijirou?" Katsuki smirked, and Kirishima wasted no time, pressing his lips onto Katsuki's surprisingly soft ones, still enthralled with how perfectly they fitted together. It was slow, passionate, none of the messy tongue and teeth that their previous ones had been. Just the two of them, enjoying their closeness and not caring about anything else. After a few moments they parted, both a little red faced.

"Sit down, you stupid fucker. Dinner's ready," Katsuki demanded, and Kirishima chuckled, going back to his earlier seat. Katsuki poured whatever had been simmering away in the big saucepan into two bowls and carried them both over, placing one in front of Kirishima and one in front of himself.

As they ate (Kirishima occasionally making noises of delight) the red-head couldn't keep his eyes off the blond, wondering how on earth he had gotten so lucky.

And then the world faded to black, the darkness taking over, and Kirishima - now half-conscious and no longer stuck in his dreamland mindset - could only think one thing.

Oh no.