Kirishima deserved better.

That was the real root of this problem. Kirishima deserved better than someone like Katsuki. Someone better than all those people in Kirishima's life that'd convinced him he was useless, that he'd never amount to anything, that it was futile chasing a pipe dream. Hearing about all of the pain and hurt those sorts of actions had caused someone he cared about, knowing he wasn't any better, knowing that he was million times worse—

So the fact that Kirishima still chose him and accepted him and loved him despite his everything about him kinda boggled Katsuki's mind.

Kirishima hadn't been there. He hadn't witnessed the worst of Katsuki's bullshit firsthand, and if he had, maybe they wouldn't be where they were today. But Katsuki trusted Kirishima, more than he'd ever trusted anyone. So he'd had no choice but to accept his affection and treasure it with a sense of reverence.

That didn't quash the guilt, though.

Things couldn't go on the way they were. It wasn't sustainable, but that was okay. Katsuki was gonna fix it. It was stupid that it took fuckin' Deku catching them making out in public for him to get all his affairs sorted, but whatever. He had to do this.

But first, a slight detour.

He wasn't stalling. He wasn't. He just had to clear the air of a few things first. If anything, it was a practice run.

When Katsuki entered the third-floor corridor, he was surprised to see Kaminari in it, standing in front of his own door, bag slung over his shoulder and a mess of library books and loose paper teetering in his arms as he struggled to get his keys out of his back pocket. Katsuki approached quietly, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched, something deep in his gut twisting away uncomfortably. He'd been doing fine around Kaminari and the others, Kirishima had told him so himself, but Katsuki still felt apprehensive. Now, he was on his own.

Kaminari was so caught up in his struggle that at first, he didn't notice Katsuki walking toward him. When he finally did, his face lit up.

"Yoooo, Kacchan!" he called down the hallway, jingling his stupid little keys as he waved.

Katsuki could feel his eye twitch. He'd probably have to have a talk with Kaminari about that nickname, for his own sanity if nothing else, but that could wait for another day. He jutted out his chin in a sort of half-nodded acknowledgment and took a few steps closer.

Kaminari let out a long-suffered sigh. "Ugh. Tell Kirishima to stop ditching me, would ya?" He then pointed at Katsuki. "You, too! Both of you! Seriously! You better quit it! Anyway." He readjusted the papers in his arms that were about to fall. "What brings you all the way down here?"

"Can we talk," Katsuki said.

Kaminari gave him a squinty side-eye, lips pinched in uncertainty. "...Just like that?"

"Just like what?"

Kaminari shrugged. "Dunno, just... No dragging me by my collar to some remote back alley this time?"

Katsuki huffed. Then shook his head.

"Okay, sweet, just, uh... Just making sure." Kaminari gave a nervous little laugh, then he pointed at his door and jingled his keys some more. "Right, yup, okay, gimme a sec."

He singled his room key out of the fuckin' jungle of anime girl keychains or whatever-the-fuck, and took a moment fiddling with the lock until it clicked. With a triumphant "woohoo", he pushed his door open and moved aside, granting entry.

Katsuki closed the door behind him, taking in the unfamiliar room with a sense of trepidation. Overflowing dirty clothes basket in one corner, overflowing trashcan with a concerning amount of energy drinks and canned coffee in the other corner, a dart board over the bed and a shelf by his desk displaying shiny sports equipment that looked like they'd never been used. Why were there so many hats? Did Kaminari even wear hats?

Kaminari rolled his desk chair over his rug — his fuckin' god-awful black shag rug, nope, nope, there was no fucking way this dude was for real. And yet, here he was, motioning for Katsuki to take a seat before plopping down on his bed and adjusting until he was crisscrossed on his goddamn cheetah-print comforter. Good god.

"Sooo," Kaminari said. ""What's up?"

Katsuki lowered himself into the chair. "I'm... um," he started, and then promptly stopped, words failing on the tip of his tongue.

Getting the conversation started had been a lot easier in his head. He looked down at his hands curled into fists in his lap and shrugged, hoping to come off as nonchalant but knowing he'd probably skirted around it and achieved moody asshole instead. He really was shit at this sort of thing.

"Argh!" Kaminari slumped. "Quit making me nervous!"

"Nervous?"

"Yes! Nervous! You pulled a proverbial 'we need to talk' on me, and now you're not talking, and let me tell you, my anxiety is through the freakin' roof. So." He clapped his hands together. "What is up, my guy?"

Katsuki bit his tongue to stop a reflexive 'I don't fucking know' from flying out, because he did know. He knew why he was there, knew what needed to be said, and it should've been easy. He was frank. He said things how they were and he didn't hold back, but... not with emotions. Never with emotions, save for indifference or rage. The rest of his feelings were for himself, and for Kirishima, and for no one else.

But if this conversation didn't happen right now, he might never give himself the opportunity again. No, he had to do this.

Katsuki swallowed the lump in his throat.

Eijirou would want him to do this.

With that, he gave a decisive nod.

"I wanted to thank you," he said.

At first, Kaminari looked blank. A slow blink, as if buffering, then raised brows and widening eyes. Katsuki bristled under his scrutiny.

"Really?" Kaminari finally asked.

Katsuki nodded. He didn't know how to feel about how fucking surprised Kaminari sounded, though.

"And, this isn't a prank or something?"

Katsuki tightened his lips and shook his head.

"I... Wow." There was another beat of silence as Kaminari sat, dazed, but then he let out a big smile, with white teeth and confused laugh and all. "Wow, um, okay. You're... welcome, I guess? Wait wait wait, I mean—" He took a breath to reign in his expression and dipped his head. "Genuinely. You're welcome."

Katsuki looked to the floor, dipped his head in turn.

"And I'm glad everything worked out in the end," Kaminari said, bright. "Not to be like, 'Oh, I knew it would', but... Okay, yeah, I totally knew it would. What brought this up, though? You're not exactly the grateful type. No offense."

There was no use getting offended by the truth, so Katsuki didn't even bother. Instead, he shrugged, then kicked at the floor a few times, trying to form a reply.

"You didn't have to help me out," he said. "But you did, anyway."

That made Kaminari laugh. Like, actually laugh.

Katsuki glared at him. "What."

"Oh, nothing, nothing, it's just," Kaminari waved his hand in front of his face. "Okay, yeah, sure, I didn't have to. But, that's kinda how it works, yeah? Being friends. Like, Momo doesn't have to tutor me in lit and history." It wasn't the same. "Sero doesn't have to give me his extra rice at lunch when I forget to eat breakfast." It wasn't the same. "I don't have to spot Sato when he downs a whole-ass cake and tries to bench-press, like, a gazillion kilos—"

"—But I'm me," Katsuki snapped, and shit, he hadn't meant for it to be an outburst like that. He scrambled for words to explain himself. "You know damn well how it is. I'm rude and pissy and sometimes I go fucking psycho, and it doesn't make any sense why you would want to help someone like that."

Kaminari sat on that for a moment, thinking.

"You know," he said, "you're not really like that anymore."

Katsuki looked up at him, eyes wide.

"Why so surprised?" Kaminari asked. "I coulda sworn you were doing it on purpose. With Kirishima around, you're—" He cut himself off with a squint, looking for the words. "—more forgiving," he finally settled with. "Less angry if someone so much as looks at you wrong. It's been... kinda nice. Seeing that side of you. Kirishima really does bring out the best in you, you know."

"Yeah," Katsuki agreed with a small smile, "he does." But that was about all he could bring himself to say. The words made him feel... self-conscious. Almost shy. He wasn't used to feeling like that.

"Now, don't get me wrong," Kaminari continued, "you still have your moments. You're still Bakugou. Like, when that drama between you two was going down, yeah, you let it get to you a bit. Unleashed your inner asshole again, which, not fun. But shit happens, ya know? Shit happens, and that's okay. No one's expecting perfection overnight. Or ever, really. But if you give others a chance, they're gonna give you a chance, too. So long as you're trying."

Katsuki swallowed the lump lodged in his throat, because, fuck, he had been trying. He'd been trying so hard to be the sort of person Kirishima could be proud of, to be the sort of person Katsuki could be proud of, too, but it was difficult to see things clearly from the inside out. Whenever he felt weakened or discouraged and fell back on old habits, it sometimes felt like all those efforts had been in his head. That it was useless to even try. That it was just who he was.

But if someone else had noticed it, too, then maybe he really could get better.

"And back then," Kaminari continued, "when you were so worried about Kirishima that you sucked up your own pride and asked me for help? And then you said 'please', like you meant it?" His expression turned to awe. "That was huge, man. Total lightbulb moment. And, well, Kirishima's my bro. And somewhere along the line, you became my bro, too." Kaminari let out a little shrug. "How could I not help out my bros?"

He made it sound so simple, but Katsuki knew it was anything but.

"Even when there isn't anything in it for you?" he asked.

"There doesn't have to be anything in it for me," Kaminari said simply. "I just like helping."

"But, even when..." Katsuki gestured wildly to Kaminari, because who the hell did he think he was fooling here? But Kaminari just tilted his head to the side, oblivious, and Katsuki faltered.

He thought he'd connected the dots. He'd been been wondering about it for a long while, he'd become so sure, but the blank look on Kaminari's face, like there wasn't anything to hide... maybe Katsuki had read too much into it, convinced himself that something was there when it wasn't.

But then he thought back to that day he'd asked for Kaminari's help, and the words Kaminari had said — pointing to his chest, declaring 'despite all of this'. And the look on his face when he'd caught them holding hands in the cafeteria — he'd perked back up almost instantly, but not before Katsuki glimpsed his fallen expression. Katsuki may have been shit at emotions, but he wasn't wrong about this. No way.

"Even when you like him, too?" he finally finished.

It took a moment, but Kaminari's face turned somber. He lowered his gaze to his lap with a pout. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, his face scrunched in a wince.

"He... doesn't know, right?"

Katsuki shook his head.

"Ahh, okay, good. That's good."

It didn't always feel good, being right. He should've just kept it to himself.

Kaminari swallowed, pressed his lips between his teeth. He glanced around the room, thinking, nervous, unable to settle on just one thing. Finally, he breathed in deep and let it out in a limp sigh.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I guess I do. But let's be perfectly clear here — I also have no fewer than seven crushes at any given time. Gotta keep my options open and all that," he laughed, somehow. "It doesn't always mean anything. Just, if a girl is pretty, or nice, or has a cute laugh..." He trailed off, his lips upturned in a wistful, bittersweet sort of smile. "And, well, you know how Kirishima is. He's just different because, well." He looked down to his fidgeting hands. Wobbled his shoulders a bit. "He's the first time it's ever been a guy."

Katsuki nodded, understanding. He'd never put much thought into that sort of thing. Before, it'd felt like a waste of time. But the feeling Kaminari must've had when he first realized... Katsuki knew that feeling well. For him, Kirishima was the first time it'd ever been anyone.

"But I just like him," Kaminari insisted, meeting Katsuki's eyes. "That's all. I don't..."

He trailed off, bit his lip, and that piqued Katsuki's interest enough that he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Don't what?"

"Love him." Kaminari let the words hang in the air for a second before a switch was flipped and he was putting on a smug little smile. "Right?"

Katsuki spluttered for a moment, then slumped in his seat with a groan and a roll of his eyes. He kicked off the ground, sending his wheely chair slowly turning away. Maybe it'd be enough to hide his burning cheeks.

"Fuck off," he said.

Kaminari snickered, but Katsuki paid him no mind. His heart was too busy bursting in his chest, trying to hammer its way to freedom, and for a moment it was hard to focus on anything else.

"But seriously," Kaminari piped up, "you don't gotta worry about me. I'm not gonna, like, try to steal your man or anything. Hell, I don't think I could even if I wanted to, you should hear how he talks about you."

Bakugou hid his ever-growing blush in the palm of his hand. "...Really?"

"Oh, yeah, it's not exactly subtle. He's been 'waxing poetic' lately." Kaminari's grin widened even more. "It's positively disgusting."

Katsuki pressed his lips between his teeth to stop his own smile from escaping. God, he just loved Kirishima so fucking much.

"Oh! Speaking of which!" Kaminari said. "He and I talk some. You know, as pals do. And I get that you're trying to keep things on the down-low for now, so don't worry, I won't go blabbing. But, at the same time, all this secrecy... I'm sure you have your reasons, but I think it's taking a toll on his confidence, ya know?" He reached across the way and bumped Katsuki's shoulder with his fist. "You should probably do something about that."

It would feel like an accusation, if it weren't for how relaxed Kaminari was about it. Not to mention, he was right. Kirishima hadn't taken it well. Katsuki knew that now.

"Already working on it," he said.

"You gotta make it up to him somehow. We're talking romantic music. Confetti canons. The whole shebang." That got a snort out of Katsuki, and Kaminari's grin softened, becoming warmer, more thoughtful. "He might appreciate the gesture, is all I'm saying."

Bakugou nodded. "I know."

Kaminari hummed, appeased.

The silence that followed felt like a sigh of relief. Like they'd finally reached mutual understanding. There wasn't much else to say, though, and Katsuki had other shit to do anyway. It was time to start wrapping this up.

"Thanks," Katsuki said, meeting Kaminari's eyes, then quickly looking away. He cleared his throat. "Again. Foeverything."

"No problem, man. Oooh, that's still gonna take some getting used to, though."

Yeah, yeah, for Katsuki too. He stood to his feet and Kaminari quickly followed suit, hopping off of his mattress to see him out. But right before Katsuki crossed the threshold, Kaminari called out after him.

"Oh, and, Bakugou?" he said. "Um. Thank you, too, for coming to talk to me. Turns out Kirishima's right!" he beamed. "Under all of those layers, you're pretty alright!"

If it weren't for the genuine smile, it would've felt like an insult. But also, after years of being the bad guy, the bully, the villain... Katsuki would take whatever he could get. He dipped his head in thanks and stepped into the hallway.

"See you tomorrow!" Kaminari said with a wave.

"Mm. See you."

The door finally closed, leaving Katsuki all alone.

He closed his eyes and let out a long exhale. He felt... lighter. Like some of the weight crushing down on his shoulders had fallen off. Maybe it hadn't been perfect, but it was a good start. Talking to Kaminari had been easy. Or, about as easy as it got for Katsuki outside of Kirishima. If only it was always easy...

At the thought, his stomach flared with anxiety. He wanted nothing more than to return to his dorm and wrap Kirishima up in his arms and never let him go, wanted to tell him just how adored and loved he was, wanted Kirishima to feel it and believe it and never doubt it ever again. But he couldn't. Not yet. Kaminari had been the easy part. Now, for the hard part.

With a determined nod, Katsuki put one foot in front of the other, to the stairwell, down a flight, then through the door at the next landing. Each step, a sense of dread settled deeper in his stomach. But he could never make it up to Kirishima unless he did this. He could never deserve Kirishima unless he did this.

So even though his legs felt like weights were being added to them with every step he took, still he walked forward, reading the nameplates on each room until he finally stood in front of the door he needed.

Midoriya Izuku.

Katsuki took a deep breath.

And he knocked.

☆

"Player 1, Victory!"

Eijirou pumped his fist in the air, then clicked his controller through the menu options to start the next match as quickly as possible.

In the hour or so that Bakugou had been away, he'd killed the time by drilling matches in practice mode, knocking out AI after AI. No way he was gonna let Bakugou beat him with his own pocket pick every again! And, maybe the hypnotizing lights of the TV screen in the darkening room plus the excitement of the game would distract him from the crippling anxiety eating away at his gut.

He trusted Bakugou. Bakugou would fix whatever it was that needed fixed, and they were going to be okay. Not only that — they were gonna be stronger for it! But a nagging part of him couldn't help but worry that it wouldn't be enough. Maybe they really weren't going to be okay, maybe this had been a sign of some bigger underlying problem that couldn't be fixed, maybe what he needed and what Bakugou needed were fundamentally incompatible—

For the billionth time that evening, Eijirou shook his head to clear it. Forced himself to focus on the game until his tongue was poking out between his lips and his thoughts were thoroughly consumed by health bars and combos and ultimate moves.

With a startling click, the door opened. Eijirou could make out Bakugou's silhouette as he stepped into the room, backlit by the the hallway light before the door closed and shut it out.

"Eijirou," he said.

"Yeah?" Eijirou perked up. He closed the practice match.

Bakugou crossed the room quickly, with resolute steps. Eijirou tossed his controller aside and scrambled to make room for him on the bed. As Bakugou approached, Eijirou squinted at him, trying to make out his face in the low electric glow. He dreaded what he might find there. What if something was wrong? Still? What if Bakugou looked sad? Angry? Uncaring? But Bakugou was backlit by the TV, expression hidden in shadows.

"Hey," Eijirou tried, softly.

Bakugou just pressed his knees onto the bed in the space Eijirou had made and placed his hands on Eijirou's shoulders, squaring him up. His grip was white-hot over Eijirou's shirt, tender but firm, and finally, at this distance, Eijirou could see Bakugou's expression. Fierce. Open. Free.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Eijirou's eyebrows drew together. "Sure?"

"Sure," Bakugou repeated, squeezing Eijirou's shoulders even tighter.

In the moonlight and the hazy buzz of the TV, his hair glowed silver and his eyes were ignited and he looked so otherworldly that for a moment, Eijirou was speechless. When he finally opened his mouth to answer, Bakugou cut him off.

"Because I'm trying," he said. "Fuck, I'm trying, but I'm still me."

All of the tension left Eijirou's body. He replaced it with a smile. "I know."

When Bakugou smiled back, it was slight at first, just a breathless sort of disbelief, but it grew and grew into something overwhelming.

"I'm not making excuses for myself," he said, rambling, "I'm just being realistic, about human nature and old habits and—"

"—I know."

"—and you know I don't like half-ass-ing things, I commit, I give my all—"

Eijirou laughed, soft. "I know, Katsuki,"

"And if you get that, if you're sure that that's what you want and you're prepared for it..."

Eijirou reached for Bakugou's hands, drew them between them, and pressed their foreheads together.

"Of course, I am."

Bakugou bit down on his lips, as if that could hide his relief, cap it even a little bit so as not to overflow into his eyes, his brows, his cheeks, even his hands, trembling where Eijirou held them.

"I love you," Bakugou said.

He'd said it before, but not as easily as Eijirou did. He held onto it, saved it, dropped it when it mattered most, and Eijirou had to suck in a gasp before his breath left him completely.

"I love you," Bakugou said again. He closed his eyes, then leaned into Eijirou and buried his face into Eijirou's shoulder. "Fuck, I love you so much."

"I love you too," Eijirou said.

Bakugou kissed him, as if to say I know, I know, I know.