bnha oneshots (vol 1)

024 ⋆ put your head on my shoulder 🌸

ship: todokiri

⋆

"Fancy seein' you here."

"It's the school prom, Kirishima," Shouto notes, tone flat as he looks up from the stark white screen of his phone to lock gazes with those of his long-time classmate.

"Well, duh!" Eijirou's lips curl into a grin, eyes rolling as he takes the seat nearest to Shouto. "I just didn't expect you to come," he adds, willing himself to scoot closer to Shouto with a few well-timed hops. Their knees bump together beneath the table, and Shouto's eyes pan over to Eijirou's as he moves from his touch, but just barely. The redhead didn't seem to notice; if he did, he didn't look the least offended, instead snatching up a glass of cider to nurse it at his lips.

"Didn't seem like your kind of scene," he murmurs, and Shouto would've missed the comment if he hadn't taken to leaning onto his thighs earlier in the evening. He peers over the edge of his phone, watching Eijirou idly twist the stem of the glass between his fingers. Eijirou rests his head in his palm and gives a small shrug as he brings his gaze back to Shouto's.  "Then again, you're always full of surprises."

Shouto hums. "Likewise."

They share a beat of silence as Eijirou takes to sipping his cider as he surveys the room. The auditorium is packed full of their future graduating class. Streamers and balloons adorn every inch of wall, and where there weren't wallflowers avoiding the active dance floor, there were tables of drinks and light snacks up for grabs. The area Shouto and Eijirou occupy was more or less the dining area; the buffet lying behind them with a perfect view of the floor stretching towards the stage.

"You came here yourself?" Shouto asks, suddenly feeling awkward for not contributing much to their conversation. Then again, Eijirou's aware of his introverted ways, so why would he, a social butterfly of sorts, be interested in shooting the breeze with him of all people?

Eijirou sets his glass aside as he shakes his head. "Nope. Came with Ashido and the gang, but they all had their own dates." Shouto hums again whilst Eijirou begins to play with the fabric of the tablecloth. "You?"

"Same," confirms Shouto. He'd much rather stay home and sleep, but his own friends coerced him into joining them for prom night. It's ironic really--he came with his own band of friends, yet here they were, nowhere to be found. He predicts they're somewhere amidst the school of bodies swaying to slow dancing music, but he hasn't seen any of them. The song pans to yet another slow song, something easygoing that fits well within the theme of An Evening in the 1960s. Pairs seemingly drew closer to each other at the change of pace, and Shouto hears Eijirou tsk beside him.

"S' a shame, really."

Shouto feels his brows twitch together. "What is?"

Eijirou nods towards the dance floor as he gestures between the two of them. "Two handsome guys with no one to slow dance with, though I'm overcompensating for myself, of course..." He murmurs that last part, and Shouto must've had an incredulous look on his face, because he soon after shrinks between his shoulders, apologizing with, "I'm sorry, I killed the mood, didn't I?"

"Not at all," Shouto assures, taking in how Eijirou melts in relief, though the action is short-lived once he asks, "So are we just going to sit here all night, or do you want to dance with me?"

"Huh?!"

"That's what you were getting at, correct?"

"I--what? No! Or--maybe?"

"Let me rephrase that." Shouto says, feeling himself chuckle as he stands to his feet and offers a hand to a quickly reddening Eijirou. "Will you dance with me?"

"S-sure."

Eijirou's hand is warm to the touch. Subconsciously, Shouto's thumb swipes over the calloused mounds of Eijirou's knuckles, the surrounding skin supple in comparison and sporting a flourish of fading scars. He cradles Eijirou's hand in his and guides him towards the edge of the dance floor. It takes a bit of maneuvering to get past the meat of the crowd, but they settle for a less dense spot under the dimmer blue lights. Tentatively, they face each other, silently debating who's hands go where with hesitant motions until they settle for Shouto's hands on Eijirou's hips and Eijirou's atop his shoulders. They go for a gentle sway, shifting side to side in tandem to the steady beat, unsure if they should gaze at each other or find interest elsewhere. Eijirou's gaze falls somewhere below Shouto's chin whereas Shouto looks over the top of his head.

It's funny, their height difference; Shouto never realized just how short Eijirou is compared to himself, though it could be due to the lack of spiked-up hair adding to his height. Tonight he wears it down, smoothed back from his forehead with a soft gel that tames his hair just enough. Shouto silently wishes he put a bit more effort into his own hair, though, there's not much he could do with it without messing with his two-toned split.

"I feel like people are staring at us..." Eijirou mumbles suddenly, curling into Shouto unbeknownst to himself. He looks sheepish when Shouto glances down at him, and for whatever reason, something about that made him want to pull him in closer.

"Good," Shouto says, readjusting his loose grip on Eijirou's hips. God, his palms were sweaty. This was so unlike him. He lets a cool breath pass through his lips as he gives Eijirou a reassuring squeeze. "You look... really good."

Nice.

"Right back at'cha, dude."

They fall victim to another awkward silence, and in it, Shouto distracts himself with the chewing of his inner lip. How long were slow dances supposed to last? It feels like they've been dancing forever even though it's been a mere minute and a half.

Eijirou's fingers subtly curl into Shouto's jacket. "This song choice is..."

"Really shitty," Shouto finishes. Eijirou glances up at him.

"Well, that too, but..." His eyes fall somewhere below Shouto's chin, smiling softly. "It's nice." But as if catching himself saying something he isn't supposed to say, he quickly adds, "But yeah... shitty."

Eijirou's smile slowly fades from his face and Shouto desperately attempts to cling to it. He draws Eijirou closer and clasps his fingers together at the small of his back, reigning in Eijirou's mild confusion with a terse, "Put your head on my shoulder."

Eijirou blinks rapidly. "What? Why?"

"That's what couples do when they dance, isn't it?"

"Oh."

Shouto notes the dark purple flush across Eijirou's cheeks. He's hesitant for a moment, looping his hands behind Shouto's neck before gingerly resting his head onto his shoulder. They're so close now, Shouto thinks; they'd be practically chest-to-chest if it weren't for their height difference. Eijirou's head rests more so on the left of his chest rather than his shoulder, but it's okay. It's fine. This is fine. The closeness. The warmth exchanging between them. Shouto fears his rapidly beating heart is snitching on him, however. Eijirou seems to laugh at this, a small huff and curve of his lips. It made Shouto feel like laughing, too. His humor surfaces as a small grin on his face as he rests his cheek atop Eijirou's head, and as they continue to gently sway to the music, it's there that Eijirou finds a lullaby in Shouto's heartbeat.