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Eijirou wakes up slowly, groggily.
He didn't immediately open his eyes. The familiar heat of the sun filtering through the blinds shone over him, making him groan slightly. He stretched, bringing his arms up and around his head, sighing and practically melting onto the bed when he was done.
Feeling tired again, Eijirou huffed sleepily, turning to his side and getting comfortable. Sleep was beginning to creep back up again, and he allowed it without a second thought, feeling far better than he's felt in a long time.
His breathe was beginning to even out. He was slipping in and out of consciousness, but he quickly snapped back into reality when he felt it.
A hand.
A hand on his own.
It was warm, thick and calloused. Eijirou held his breathe, then quickly released it as if it were a sigh. He forced himself to relax, but quickly did when he remembered who's hand it really was.
Bakugou Katsuki, his best friend. Of course, maybe it was strange for him and his best friend for almost 3 years to be sleeping in the same bed, but Eijirou didn't really care much. He enjoyed it, and maybe it was selfish, being that he had feelings for his best friends, feelings that were far from platonic.
There were suspicions that the blonde felt the same for him, but Eijirou quickly pushed those thoughts down. It was stupid to get his hopes up, because if he did he knows he'd confess immediately. And he knows just how that would end.
Still, Eijirou didn't have much time to think about any of that, because Bakugou's hand was on him, and it was curling closer. Eijirou's heart stuttered when he felt Bakugou's thumb stroke over his knuckles, over his fingers, as if feeling ever scar, every callous left on him. The touches were uncharacteristically soft and hesitant, like Bakugou was almost wary, or, dare he think, scared.
Then, the touch moves further.
Bakugou slides his hand up Eijirou's arm slowly. His fingers dip into where a vein pulses in his arm, then stroke over the softer skin of his old barely faded scars. Eijirou couldn't hold back the way his breathe hitched when he felt said fingers trace over his old scars from the incident with Rappa.
The hand stops, hovering over Eijirou's arm. He feels the heat of them. Eijirou quickly evens out his breathe again, moving slightly to make it seem more natural. He doesn't dare open his eyes though.
A few seconds pass, seconds becoming a minute. He feels rather than hears Bakugou sigh, fighting the urge to shudder at the warm heat that passes over him.
This time, Bakugou doesn't touch his hand, or even his arm. Eijirou has to resist flinching when he feels the softest of touches on his face.
First, it's a finger simply poking his cheek lightly. Then, there's a thumb just under his cheekbone, stroking softly over his skin. The touch slowly becomes more confident, ending up with Bakugou fully cupping his cheek, his thumb continuing to stroke over his skin.
Eijirou felt warmth rise in his chest, threatening to spill and reveal exactly what he was feeling. Why was Bakugou doing this? What did it mean?
It was getting increasingly difficult to not open his eyes and ask. He lays silently, simply breathing and pretending his heart wasn't threatening to pound right out of his chest.
And Bakugou, completely unbeknownst to the turmoil Eijirou was feeling, continues to touch him achingly softly, and so so unlike him. His touches are getting more and more confident, from him sliding his thumb against Eijirou's cheekbones to him running his hands through Eijirou's thick red locks.
He finds himself relaxing under the soft touches, unable to resist a sigh when Bakugou scratches behind his ear slightly, blunt nails digging into his scalp. Eijirou leans into the touch, feeling himself relax further, becoming putty under Bakugou's hands.
Eijirou almost tenses again when he registers Bakugou's breathe hitching slightly, then a whispered curse of, "Fuck."
It's silent for a bit after that. Eijirou is so focused on making sure his breathing is steady, that he almost doesn't hear Bakugou's next words.
"Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are?"
Eijirou's heart stutters to a dangerous stop. Then, it rushes straight into overdrive, rattling in its cage. He has to fight to make sure his face doesn't go red.
There's silence again. Both men were breathing quietly. Bakugou released a breathe, less of a sigh and more a push of breathe, as if it was pushed out of him.
"I want to tell you so fucking bad." Bakugou continues, his hand sliding to Eijirou's face again. "I want to hold you, and to be held. I want you to hear what the things i could to say, and i want to see your reaction if i tell you." It seems like Bakugou is showing no sign of stopping, which is both good and bad for Eijirou. Good, because well, maybe this means Bakugou feels the same way as him.
And bad, because Eijirou is absolutely fighting to keep from opening his eyes, from blushing, from revealing that he's very much awake right now.
But Bakugou, completely unaware to Eijirou's inner turmoil, continues talking.
"Would you go red because you're embarrassed? Or, or would you deny it immediately? Maybe you'd just laugh it off as me being friendly. That seems more like you."
One, two, three. A minute passes. Bakugou sighs then--
"I don't...want to be just friends with you anymore."
"Because I'm so fucking in love with you, and it's killing me Eijirou."
Eijirou's soul leaves his body.
It doesn't feel like he's real right now. He's having an out of body experience, like he's dreaming or something. It doesn't feel like he's awake anymore. Maybe he's actually not. Maybe he fell asleep and is dreaming all of this.
But no.
Bakugou is still touching him softly, gently. His hand is caressing Eijirou's cheek, his fingers scratching lightly at Eijirou's scalp. This touch continues for a while longer, Eijirou doesn't exactly know how long, but it felt like hours to him.
Of course, not all good things can last forever. Bakugou pulls away with a sigh, and Eijirou has to bite his tongue so a whine doesn't leave this throat. He does shuffle slightly, stretching his arms a bit so it seems natural.
He can vividly feel wine red eyes on him, staring holes into his body. A sleepy whine leaves Eijirou's throat, unbidden, then the eyes on him are gone, and so is the warm body next to him.
Eijirou holds his breathe. He waits until the footsteps are gone, and when he hears the door shut after a brief pause, he releases a heavy breathe.
Garnet red eyes blink open, staring at the ceiling blankly.
A slow spreading blush painted his cheeks, to his ears, going down to his neck. He covers his face with his hands, dragging a hand down his face
So.
It turns out his feelings aren't as one sided as he thought.
Eijirou turns his head and screams into his pillow, for a very very long time.