pillow talk | kiribaku

three

❝ you don't have to say you love me
i just wanna tell you somethin'
lately you've been on my mind

honey
i'd walk through fire for you
just let me adore you ❞

      STARING, something bakugou's noticed he's been doing more than usual, unintentionally most of the time. specifically at kirishima. it started before the whole league of villains crap, back when kirishima and him were just normal friends— or, whatever they called their weird relationship. kirishima thought of it as friends. bakugou would said less-irritating underling. it would just be brief glances whenever he heard the idiot speak, but it gradually turned to longer stares and not just looking at him whenever he spoke.

there'd be moments where bakugou would catch himself staring at kirishima's annoying face, or his shitty hair, or that small dumb scar above his right eyebrow he always wondered about, or even his stupid sharp toothed smile. he didn't know what it was, but when resting his cheek in the palm of his hand and gazing over to his far right in the middle of sensei's classes, he's learned that looking over to the spiky haired idiot made him feel at ease, or at least he didn't feel his anger rise and boil at the sight him like everyone else does, especially that damn nerd and half and half bastard.

bakugou would definitely get caught at times staring over at the redhead; and he hated that the asshole gave him the same exact fucking reaction each time. a quick double take with those crimson red eyes of his before fully turning his head in the direction of his friend. he'd shut his eyes and smile big, showing off his shark fangs, even going as far as to send him a small, quick wave to avoid aizawa catching him not paying attention. bakugou would just glare back, gritting his teeth roughly before snapping his gaze towards the front of the classroom again. 

like mentioned previously, the stares were only once in awhile in the beginning, but ever so slowly over time the they became a lot more frequent. bakugou didn't want them to be, be-fucking-lieve him. he's tried so hard to resist the urge to turn his head around and get a glimpse of shitty hair. it was only a matter of time before aizawa finally notices that the ash-blond kept most of his attention away from the long lectures. he really didn't want to be looking at kirishima all the time— scratch that, he didn't want to be thinking about looking at kirishima or even think about the guy himself, period.

so why was he relentlessly thinking about that fuck this late at night during his still current insomniac problem?

well, nine o'clock was considered late for the ash-blond. there wasn't a late night study session this night like the previous one, so he really didn't have anything to distract himself with from his thoughts this time. he could just throw in the white towel and just pull another all nighter, try to catch up with some school work or maybe even get out his dumbbells and work out a little bit. however, those two ideas didn't seem interesting at the least right now.

thus, along with growing more aggravated by the second, bakugou roughly pushes himself up and off his bed, and before he could realize it he stormed towards his door, swinging it open and shutting it harshly behind him. he angrily stomped down the hall while muttering violent threats under his breath, not giving a damn about the people on or below his floor if they heard him or not. he kept walking angrily until he stopped at the familiar door, and this time there wasn't any hesitation with his actions.

bakugou practically kicks open kirishima's room, shoving his hands into his pockets and entering the redhead's room at his own will, "i'm here, fuckface, whether you like it or not!" he shouted with a glare on his face.

the glare disappears though when he notices kirishima was sitting at the edge of his bed. the redhead jumps slightly from the sudden outburst, and his head snaps over towards his dorm room door. the ash-blond saw that he was — funnily enough — working out with his own set of small dumbbells. but that wasn't what had gotten bakugou to stop glaring. he also noticed the towel draped over the redhead's shoulders, the ends of the fabricant somewhat covering up his naked top half. his hair was also flattened down again, this time looking more damp.