The Confession
Chapter 4
Days pass and nothing 'official' changes between them.
From the outside it probably looks the same to anyone paying attention to them. Not that anyone ever does, as far as he's aware.
They still train together, still bicker, Kirishima still laughs just as loud as always and throws his arm around people's shoulders. Katsuki pretends he doesn't inwardly prickle when that happens. Kirishima also still calls Katsuki out when he's being an asshole.
But despite that, Katsuki can feel a change.
The brush of fingers as they pass equipment, or a shoulder bump that lasts a fraction longer than before. Or Kirishima trying to give him a heart attack by leaning in close to speak in a low, quiet voice to him. Instead of shouting across the mat like before.
Every time the other man does it Katsuki shudders. It's not like it's meant to do anything to him, it just does. His body is a traitor.
Katsuki catches himself staring more than once.
Not at Kirishima’s face, he’s not that obvious, but at his back while they’re walking ahead of the group. At the way his shoulders roll when he stretches, or the way his shirt clings when he’s sweaty from training.
And also… lower.
He hates himself for that part.
The realisation hits him one afternoon like a slap. Katsuki’s spaced out, completely checked out of whatever Kaminari is saying, instead he has his eyes locked on Kirishima as he bends to grab his water bottle.
Katsuki jerks his gaze away, heat flooding his face in a way that he hopes isn't obvious but knows it probably is.
“Focus,” he mutters under his breath, furious at himself.
This is exactly what he was afraid of after the time they ended up stuck in training. It’s not just his body reacting anymore, it’s his attention. His awareness, his brain tracking Kirishima without asking, without so much as a whiff of his own permission.
On top of that he starts noticing little things. Like when Kirishima glances at him when he thinks Katsuki isn't looking. Usually the other man isn't really subtle in anything he does, but the looks? They're careful and measured and secret.
Katsuki wonders how long Kirishima had been sneaking looks like that at him. Were they new? Or had the other man been doing it long before he even confessed and Katsuki was just completely blind?
Katsuki can also see the restraint.
The way Kirishima laughs a little quieter around him when he knows Katsuki is overwhelmed by something. Or how his brightness sometimes dips just a little if Katsuki pulls back or goes quiet, like Kirishima is trying his best not to let anxiousness show.
He still smiles and jokes, but guilt coils in Katsuki's chest when he see's that side of Kirishima. He doesn't want to make him feel that way.
It's his fault. He's the one who flinches and hesitates and who can't give Kirishima anything solid to hold onto. And Kirishima? Stupid, good Kirishima, is trying so hard not to scare him off.
It makes Katsuki's chest ache in a way that's sharp and ugly and almost unbearable.
One night they’re sitting in the common room with everyone else, legs stretched out, watching something stupid on TV. Kirishima’s knee is pressed lightly against Katsuki’s thigh, it's probably accidental.
Probably. Maybe. Katsuki tenses automatically, then relaxes himself forcefully, he doesn’t move away.
Kirishima notices, Katsuki can tell by the way his knee stills and then settles. How he's careful not to press harder, but doesn't pull back away either.
The contact sends a subtle shiver up Katsuki’s spine as he stares straight ahead, jaw tight and heart racing.
This is what it looks like from the outside: nothing.
This is what it feels like on the inside: a staunch battle of his will not to let his body react. Having a boner in such a public gathering because his leg touched Kirishima's—warm as it is—is not something he can tolerate.
So he sits. Remains still.
If his breath stutters when Kirishima gently moves his leg up and down, as if stroking him with it, then that was no-ones business but his own. Nope.
———————❖———————
The tension between them doesn't snap, it just sort of stretches until the thread feels thin and fragile.
It seems to coil tighter with every day that passes, every small change of their actions toward one another. At least they are changes for Katsuki. He wishes he knew whether or not Kirishima was always this way with him before, he's sure he wasn't. But Katsuki was apparently an oblivious fool before, too.
Katsuki lets Kirishima spend his time closer to him. Standing shoulder to shoulder, or sitting so their legs can press together. Every touch sends sharp awareness through him with heat and a tension under his skin that never quite settles.
It's exhausting and intoxicating.
They haven't gone as far as holding hands again since the night in his room, though.
He feels like a kid, dancing around this shit.
He also has to. Or, rather, doesn't really know any other way without just bulldozing his way into it. Which would probably break them, or lead to regrets or all manner of other unhealthy shit he doesn't want to deal with.
He knows it's his fault, too. After all, Kirishima seems to know what the hell he's doing.
At least one of them does.
That night when he's lying awake, unable to sleep yet again, Katsuki feels tense and overheated. Kirishima's tangled up in his thoughts again. Twisted around his insides and squeezing tight enough to make his chest ache. It's ridiculous.
He knows exactly what the feeling is right now. It's want. Plain and simple. Physical and emotional want.
Knowing doesn't make it any less terrifying.
Katsuki eventually gives up on sleep at 2:07am.
He's been staring at the ceiling for over two hours, sheets twisted around his legs as his mind runs in circles. Not to mention his dick having a mind of its own and not being able to decide whether it wants to have a boner or not.
It's unbearable.
He grabs for his phone before he can think himself out of it and unlocks it. The screens too bright in the dark and makes him squint, but he opens up his chat with Kirishima anyway.
He stares at it, heart hammering because it was too blunt and accusatory and—
Katsuki exhales sharply. Of course he's awake. Fuck.
There's a pause this time, longer, and Katsuki's chest tightens.
He types and deletes a few times. The words come easier this way, without Kirishima's presence, without his stupid smile and shoulders and smell being right there. Just a bit, but still better.
Three dots. Gone. Back again.
That does something to Katsuki and his throat tightens.
Was he repeating himself? He thinks he's touched lightly on that subject before, when they were holding hands in his room. But he can't stop now.
When the response doesn't come immediately Katsuki is tempted to throw his phone across the room from embarrassment.
Despite himself Katsuki lets out a short, breathless huff of amusement.
The possessive note in that—even unintentional—makes heat curl low in Katsuki's stomach and he swallows hard.
The question sits there, naked. But he can't stop. Doesn't really want to.
Katsuki’s face is burning, he can feel the heat across his cheeks and nose. Maybe he should backtrack, say it was a joke. Of course Kirishima must know that already considering the erection incident when they were trapped. But still.
Katsuki's breath stutters.
Katsuki presses his phone to his chest as he tries to calm his body down. He groans and hopes it not too loud. Hopes Kirishima can't hear him through the wall. Or maybe he hopes he does.
Somehow it was easier to admit fear via text. Even if that meant there was undeniable evidence left behind, making it harder to deny.
The words sit warm and heavy in Katsuki's chest. Fuck how could someone like Kirishima like him of all the choices the guy had.
Katsuki locks his phone and sets it face down on the bedside table. Sleep now?? How the fuck is he supposed to sleep when his heart is trying to slam itself out of his ribcage?
He tries anyway.
———————❖———————
The next morning is a nightmare. Katsuki knows it the second he walks into the common room and sees Kirishima already there. Half-awake, hair more of a mess than usual, hoodie crumpled like he slept in it.
Kirishima looks up and smiles at him. It's not a big grin, it's something softer and warmer and Katsuki instantly feels a flush trying to erupt on his features.
He fails as his brain sort of short-circuits.
Katsuki looks away too fast as the heat floods his face completely. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
"Morning Bakugou," Kirishima's voice is still rough with sleep.
Katsuki just grunts in reply.
He makes a beeline for coffee like it's a lifeline, too painfully aware of Kirishima's eyes on his back. His shoulders feel tense and his nerves feel as if everything is turned up a notch.
They're standing too close again, Katsuki only realises it when Kirishima leans in slightly.
"Hey," Kirishima murmurs. "About last night—"
"Nope."
The word comes out sharp and panicked, Katsuki spins around so fast he nearly sloshes coffee over his hand. Why wont his goddamn face stop burning!?
Kirishima blinks. "I just meant—"
"Not here," Katsuki snaps. "Not when I can see your stupid face."
Kirishima's eyebrows shoot upwards. "My… My face?"
"Yes, your face," Katsuki hisses, mortified. "Don't talk to me about—about that when you're standing right there."
A couple of their classmates glance over at them. Katsuki lowers his voice further, furious at himself. "It's too much right now."
Kirishima stares at him for a second, then "Oh."
Realisation dawns then, Katsuki can see it on his face. He's not sure if he what he feels is regret or satisfaction when Kirishima grins at him.
"Don't," Katsuki growls. "Wipe that damn look off your face."
"I'm not doing anything," Kirishima says. Obviously that's a lie. "You're just really red."
His hands clench around his mug. "You're gonna die."
Kirishima laughs quietly and lifts his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. We don't have to talk about it. I get it."
"You don't."
"I kinda do," Kirishima says gently. "Seeing me makes it harder, right?"
Katsuki's mouth opens. Closes. He looks away again with a tight jaw and absolutely seething with embarrassment.
"…Shut up."
Kirishima's voice softens. "Hey, it's not a bad thing."
Katsuki whirls on him, trying to keep his voice as low as possible. "It is when you can see it."
It's the worst part. Kirishima can see everything, from the colour of his face to how stiff his shoulders are to how shallow his breathing is. How he can't seem to hold eye contact without overheating like some sort of faulty wiring.
Kirishima watches him with this quiet, knowing patience that makes Katsuki want to scream and hide under his bed forever.
“I’m not judging you for it,” Kirishima says. “I swear.”
“I know,” Katsuki snaps, then groans and scrubs a hand through his hair. "I'm just… ugh."
Kirishima goes still, an eyebrow raising slightly.
“…Embarrassed?”
Katsuki freezes and for half a second he considers denying it. Lying. Defaulting to anger. Instead, he exhales sharply.
“…Don’t make me say it out loud.”
Kirishima nods immediately. “Okay.”
Kirishima takes a subtle step back, giving Katsuki some more space. His expression is open and calm, warm in that way that he has where Katsuki knows he's not demanding anything.
"…Thanks."
Kirishima smiles again, small and private this time.
After the day's ended and everyone has gone back to their rooms to sleep, Katsuki spent a few hours finishing homework and watching stupid videos on his phone.
Once he lies down in bed, he makes it exactly twenty three minutes before he gives up on sleep.
He's lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, replaying everything. The way Kirishima smiled at him this morning, the wat his voice dropped when he said I get it, the way Katsuki's body betrayed him in front of everyone in the common room with it's goddamn blushing.
He growls and reaches for his phone.
The reply comes faster than it probably should have.
Katsuki's face immediately goes hot.
Katsuki groans, rolling onto his side and burying half his face against his pillow.
There's a pause for just long enough that Katsuki feels a flutter of anxiety.
Katsuki's brain blue-screens.
Katsuki presses his phone to his forehead, mortified and heart hammering.
Katsuki chews on the inside of his cheek.
Katsuki's entire body burns like he's been lit from the inside.
Katsuki lets out a quiet, helpless laugh before he can stop himself.
There's a softer message after that.
Katsuki puts his phone down. Damn it now he's smiling too.
Sleep comes easier than Katsuki expects after that. He still wakes once or twice, heat lingering under his skin and brain replaying Kirishima's stupid emojis and stupid… flirting? But he manages to fall asleep again pretty quickly.