3 am || KiriBaku ||

3:08

3:08

is when he receives Katsuki's second text.

Kacchan: can't sleep can i come over?

Kirishima blinks. He knows that staring at his phone won't make the words feel more natural to him-- instead the more he does so the more they bleed together into an aching blur.

You: Sure :)

He doesn't know why he wrote that because he's not sure that he should come over. There's a part of him that would rather stare at the vastness that sneers back at him, curl up against the bedframe and let the eerie dark churn him to insomniac madness. A year ago they wouldn't even need to have asked one another, it would be almost ritualistic to have that boy's presence permeating the inky darkness in his room, on his bed, smirking while kicking off his shoes; him just there. But it's not the year prior and he hopes with some infantile pettiness that the receiver tastes any distant bitterness in the letters. In the end though, he knows that a 'sure' is ubiquitous and the vacuum that stretches like a squirming rodent beneath his chest is only vulnerable to himself.

Though, really, he knows he's more than okay at the prospect of having him over again. It's a dwindled semblance of a forlorn loneliness that peers and prods the better of him.