Long Time Coming

Wait, What?

Bakugou boarded the train, hesitating for a moment. He wasn't sure he wanted to do this. It was new and terrifying and something he didn't do very often with his UA peers. He didn't have to, they lived together. It had been different in middle school; he'd felt oppressed at home, unappreciated at school, overlooked and painted over by society. In Yuei he was seen, he was acknowledged for more than his talent - for who he was becoming. Social outings hadn't been really a big deal because of that. The brakes shuddered as they released, knocking him out of his own head. He gathered himself visibly as the train pulsed forward; shaking his doubts off.

He was Ground Zero. He was Bakugou Katsuki - third year at Yuei, top of the class. Winner of every in school battle pitted against him, top ranking in villain and criminal captures, if not top ranking in the popularity polls - Kirishima beat him there hands down, and certainly not top ranking all around hero - Deku owned that spot, staking claim in Year two and locking his nasty little rat fingers around it in his death grip.

Still, Bakugou felt like he'd made marked improvements. Despite his surly attitude and less than charming behavior professional heroes were lining up for him to go on with them full time once he graduated. He strode towards car five knowing Kirishima would be waiting for him. Bakugou wasn't sure what it was about the red head and the number five, but that was where Eijirou seemed to naturally gravitate. He scratched at his scalp as he waited for the doors to slide open, ignoring the glances and whispers.

It was uncomfortable hiding beneath his beanie and scarf; the weak Spring heat trying to deliver the kind of weather Bakugou needed to thrive but falling painfully short of the mark. Despite the need to keep his eyes down to avoid detection he couldn't help but search the car for the familiar cut of Kirishima's chin, the long, flowing red hair, the familiar zing that his body felt whenever the too cheerful hero was nearby; the awkward tension from their unresolved arguments that Bakugou used as an excuse to disguise his true feelings, his sexual desire, his love muddled their connection a little. Bakugou frowned, shuffling forward on unsteady feet.

Anger was an easy outlet for so much; if unfulfilling and destructive. But he had a plan. He'd thought about this for a week before contacting Eijirou. He was going to apologize, he was going to confess. He was going to fix everything. His eyes met similar red from a few feet away. Those lips split in a familiar grin and fuck it hit him straight in the chest; wet and warm and needy and gasping, reaching, yearning, begging .

Love me ! He could feel the words screaming inside of his chest, burning relentlessly to be birthed from his mouth. Bakugou swallowed the impulse, giving a slight nod to indicate he'd seen his friend. His eyes not leaving Kirishima's face, his hair, his body . Damn the thirst was strong today. He clenched his teeth, breathing hard through his nose.

God how was someone so mortal so beautiful?

Kirishima had obviously been learning how to do his hair; it was tangled in an intricately beautiful braid hanging over his shoulder. His muscular body well defined in a garish purple turtleneck and grey pants. Somehow it was charming, the terrible fashion sense. Self consciously Bakugou touched his gauges, fingers trailing to the small hoop at his lip as he strode past the people his eyes seeing only one. His heart hammered electricity as Kirishima's eyes followed the path of his fingertips. It was an oddly erotic shared experience; his face filling with heat, the moment sensual in a train car surrounded by people, feeling as though they were the only ones on board. He felt powerful, teasing Kirishima with his lingering touch tracing over his own lip - watching as his classmate couldn't rip his gaze away from the fingers playing with the small orange hoop. He grinned, biting at the ornament. The trance broken as Kirishima's mouth opened in a small 'o', he looked away hastily, startled, maybe embarrassed as his gaze flicked back to Bakugou's for a second. Whatever Kirishima saw on the blond's face haf only made him more jittery; he yanked his torso in the opposite direction. Bakugou couldn't help the shit eating grin, or the raging arousal pumping hard in his veins, making his pants just a little too tight, his heart thud in his ear loud enough to drown out the sound of the train. He let his fist tighten on the support railing a few feet away, giving himself and Eijirou time to cool down, to approach one another on less tumultuous footing.