Halloween BNHA One-shots & Drabbles

(KiriBaku) All He's got to Offer

Paring: Kirishima/Bakugou
Warnings: Angst? I guess
Words: 7,104
(Lia, I'm sorry it took so long T~T)

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Kirishima sits in front of the apartment door, watching joggers run by and stray cats dig through trash for half-eaten takeout boxes as he counts the passing hours.

It's a chilly fall day, the sky clouded over, threatening to cry rain. Wind shakes tree leaves of stunning vermillion orange and howls against rooftops and chimneys. Kirishima's nose twitches. The moist air smells of damp tree bark and wet sidewalk.

He twiddles his fingers together, trying his best not to get too impatient. He counts the hours he's been waiting... two, four, six, eight... he's already waited eight hours, no good to get impatient now... besides, it should be any minute now.

He taps two fingers at his shin, leaning elbows on knees. His eyes wander a bit, scanning pointlessly over the other apartment complexes. The doors are spread about fifteen feet apart, the walkway between them decorated with potted plants lining the sides of the building and towels hanging over the safety railing. It's not the most visually appealing surrounding- messy and plain- but after staring at all the succulents and drying laundry for countless hours everyday, it's become a familiar sight to Kirishima, the whole apartment complex has. He even knows some of the neighbor―not by name―but they've passed by where he sits and waits every day enough times that he's got their faces engraved into his head.

Thunder cackles from a distance away. Kirishima likes the sound of thunder, it's fun to listen to, but it's been overcast and rainy for so long that's it's become nothing but white noise. He just hopes it doesn't start pouring rain. There's a strong metal overhang above the terrace, but that wouldn't be enough to protect all the hanging laundry and stray cats from getting miserably soaked.

Footsteps sound from somewhere down at the bottom of the cement stairs that lead up to the second floor of apartments, army boots clipping on damp concrete. Kirishima perks up, back straightening and brows unfurrowing themselves.

The familiar footsteps approach and finally a tuft of frizzy blond hair peeks over the top the of steps. Then a whole head of unbrushed hair. Then a face. Kirishima uncrosses his legs and jumps to his feet, a grin at his lips.

Bakugou's not a fan of the cold, so he's bundled up with two big puffy jackets and a fuzzy scarf, a lavender one that wraps all the way around his nose and mouth, collecting his hot breath. His cheeks are bitten pink by the shrill cold, but his eyes are toasty and warm, a firey red like caramel apples and October sunsets.

Kirishima swoons.

Bakugou Katsuki―he had Kirishima wrapped around his finger from the moment he laid his ruby eyes on him. The others living in the apartment complex call him nasty and problematic with his easy to prompt bad attitude and tendency to yell, an aloof neighbor it would be best to steer clear of, but Kirishima knows his complexity is just easy to mislabel. You could say he's misunderstood, but Kirishima's seen enough of his personality, the one he usually hides under layers and layers of misleading frontiers, the one that doesn't shine brightly save for the comfort of his apartment, where he lounges lazily on couches with Kirishima at his side, nobody around who he feels like he has to put up a façade for, to know that he's mountains more than what meets the eye.

Bakugou doesn't speak as he nears the door to his apartment where Kirishima beams in silent greeting. His expression doesn't change in the slightest, piercing gaze fixed on the door, no opportunity for wandering eyes.

Kirishima stands in front of said door, wishing more than anything he could reach out his arms and give the blond a tight hug; he looks like he needs one. Work has been rough on him- Kirishima doesn't miss the smudgy eyebags.