Dragon's Heart, Hero's Will

Chapter 30: Tension Between Us

Class 1-A buzzes with laughter and energy as Mina twirls in front of everyone, her dance moves smooth and captivating. Kirishima watches from his seat, grinning as he tries to mimic her movements in his head. But his focus keeps drifting—not on Mina’s moves, but on Bakugou, who sits across the room with his usual frown, arms crossed tightly. Kirishima can tell there’s something brewing in Bakugou’s head. The tension in his body is different tonight, and it makes Kirishima's chest ache with a strange tightness.

Ever since their bond deepened, Kirishima’s dragon quirk has been more restless, especially when Bakugou isn’t nearby. It’s not just about his quirk, though. Something about Bakugou’s presence grounds him, like a force he can’t quite understand but also can’t deny. He hasn’t told Bakugou about this side effect of his quirk—the way it craves closeness—fearing the explosive reaction he'd get from him. But the urge to be near him is becoming harder and harder to fight.

Bakugou, meanwhile, is fuming, though not for the usual reasons. His chest feels tight, his mind scattered, and he can’t seem to focus on anything other than the idiot sitting a few feet away from him—Kirishima. That damn dragon-loving idiot has managed to crawl under his skin in ways Bakugou hadn’t anticipated, and it’s infuriating.

Why the hell can’t he just be normal around him anymore?

Bakugou glances back at Kirishima from the corner of his eye. The redhead is laughing, that big goofy grin plastered across his face, and Bakugou clenches his fists tighter. Kirishima is always so damn cheerful—so unshakably kind—and it makes Bakugou's heart stutter in ways he can’t explain.

When Aizawa announces the upcoming school festival, the class erupts into excited chatter. Bakugou doesn’t care about the festival—not really. His mind is elsewhere, fixated on the way Kirishima leans forward in his seat, his muscles flexing beneath his uniform as he listens intently. Bakugou scowls, trying to shove those thoughts out of his head. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t shake the image of Kirishima from his mind.

Kirishima, on the other hand, feels a familiar pull toward Bakugou. He can’t help but wonder where Bakugou’s head is at—why he seems so distant today. Is it something he said? Kirishima’s dragon stirs in the back of his mind, tugging at him to go closer, to be nearer to Bakugou, but he forces himself to stay put. Still, it gnaws at him, the need to be near his best friend.

By the time they retreat to Heights Alliance, Kirishima can’t ignore the absence anymore. Bakugou isn’t downstairs with the others, and Kirishima feels his dragon’s restlessness grow, urging him to seek Bakugou out. He tries to focus on the group’s conversation about the festival, but it’s no use. His mind keeps wandering back to Bakugou, wondering why he can’t stop thinking about him.

Upstairs, Bakugou isn’t doing much better. He can hear the chatter from the common room, hear Kirishima’s loud, infectious voice echoing through the hallways, and it sets his nerves on fire. It isn’t fair. He shouldn’t feel like this—shouldn’t feel so damn... restless when Kirishima isn’t near him.

His hands itch to blow something up just to calm the storm inside, but that won’t fix the problem. So, before he even realizes what he’s doing, Bakugou storms down the hall and bangs on Kirishima’s door.

When the door opens, Kirishima stands there, clearly surprised but with that same stupid smile on his face.

“Katsuki? What’s going on?” he asks, blinking at the unexpected visitor.

“Move,” Bakugou grumbles, pushing past him without waiting for an invitation. Kirishima’s dragon stirs immediately, satisfied by Bakugou’s presence in the room. Kirishima feels his chest tighten, the bond between them palpable in the air.

“You okay?” Kirishima asks carefully, noticing the tension in Bakugou’s stance.

“Shut up. I’m fine,” Bakugou mutters, sitting down on Kirishima’s bed without any explanation. It’s strange—Bakugou doesn’t usually seek him out like this, especially for no reason. But Kirishima isn’t about to question it. He quietly closes the door behind him and joins Bakugou on the bed, his heart racing in his chest. The silence between them feels thick, like there’s something unsaid hanging in the air, but neither of them dares to break it.

“You’re a real pain, you know that?” Bakugou finally mutters, his voice quieter than usual. Kirishima turns his head, confused by the comment but curious.

“What did I do now?” Kirishima asks, his voice light, but his heart is beating fast, his dragon sensing something deeper beneath Bakugou’s words.

Bakugou stays silent for a long moment, his fists clenched in his lap. He hates how Kirishima makes him feel—how every second without him feels like an eternity. He isn’t used to this. He doesn’t want this.

But dammit, he needs Kirishima close.

“Why do you always make me think about things I don’t want to think about?” Bakugou growls, his voice tinged with frustration, though there’s a strange vulnerability beneath it.

Kirishima blinks in surprise, his heart pounding louder in his chest. He isn’t sure how to respond to that, but there’s something in Bakugou’s tone that makes his dragon purr contently, as if sensing Bakugou’s hidden emotions.

“I guess that’s just my charm,” Kirishima jokes, but his voice is softer, his eyes flicking to Bakugou’s clenched fists. He wants to reach out, to offer some kind of comfort, but he holds back. The tension in the room is too delicate, too raw.

Bakugou scoffs, though there’s no heat behind it. “Tch. You’re an idiot,” he mutters, but the insult lacks its usual bite.

They sit in silence again, but it isn’t uncomfortable. Slowly, as exhaustion from the day settles over them, they both lean into the quiet, their shoulders brushing. Neither of them moves away.

As the room grows darker and the silence deeper, Bakugou’s head begins to nod. He fights it at first, but soon he’s leaning into Kirishima, his body drawn to the warmth beside him. Kirishima, too, finds himself inching closer, their bodies gravitating towards each other, drawn by something neither of them can explain.

When they finally fall asleep, their heads rest close together, and it’s as if the tension in the room melts away. They don’t know when it happens, but they end up tangled in each other’s warmth, their bodies relaxed and at peace for the first time in what feels like days.

They can’t sleep without the other anymore.