An Unreasonable Amount of Pilots: A KiriBaku Story

Chapter 8

< CW - Princess bride spoilers, suicide attempt >

After we've gone inside and dried off he puts on a movie, something dumb about this hot dude and this lady named Buttercup (and something about true love? I don't know, seems a little cringy to me), and we sit in the living room to watch it together. It's a nice distraction from earlier, and although there are several feet of space between us I feel comforted by his presence. Which is bad, I sternly remind myself.

I need to let go of this attraction I feel to him; it's only going to end badly for the both of us. Him, for having to reject me, and me, for getting rejected. I had never known that Denki was attracted to guys), but I mean I hadn't known Kirishima was either, so... I guess my supposed "gaydar" is pretty weak.

The hot guy in the movie (I've gathered that his name is Westley), ends up dying and leaving his "true love" Buttercup behind and heartbroken. Damn, even this movie's fucking depressing.

I sigh and glance over at Kirishima again, the lights from the TV shining over his face and casting pooling shadows in the dips of his collar bones.

How the fuck am I supposed to get over him whenever he constantly looks like that?

He catches my gaze and smiles, turning towards me, and my heart gives an unfair tug. God damn it all to fuck. Mentally slapping my dumbass self, I jerk my focus back towards the movie and concentrate on not looking back at him for the rest of the night, his silhouette teasing me out of the corner of my vision.

As I lay there in the darkness of Kirishima's bedroom, our movie from earlier long finished, the hollowness from earlier returns. I made sure to keep a couple feet between us to keep myself at bay; but there's nothing in this world I want more than to be in his embrace right now.

Nothing.

I turn over to face him, his skin pale in the moonlight shining down from the window above our heads. He looks so goddamn gorgeous.

My hand trembles as I slowly reach it out to touch a strand of his soft red hair, letting it slip in between my fingers and back onto the black silk sheets. I breathe out a sigh, letting my fingers trace over the fine lines of his face lightly as he sleeps. They follow the curve of his neck into the shadows pooling in his collarbones, skimming lightly over the skin just above the collarbone of his shirt before I stop, feeling silly.

The thought that this is the last time I'm ever going to be able to touch him like this, flits through my mind, and a wave of sorrow washes over me. My eyes flick back up to his face, and before I can stop myself I slowly lean forward to press a gentle kiss to his forehead; no more than a whisper, before turning back around and pulling the covers up over my shoulders to try and fall asleep, face wet with silent tears.

The next morning I wake up late to startling coldness. My chest gives a pull as I realize that... last night was the last time I'm ever going to see him.

Ever.

I've grown so used to sleeping in Kirishima's embrace that being without him is almost alarming, and although I slept for at least 8 hours I feel as though I haven't slept at all. I rise out of bed, finding him already gone, with a note in his messy scrawl on the table. It reads:

Good morning Bakugou!

I didn't have the heart to wake you up, but I made eggs and waffles for you- they should be next to this note. Please try and eat them! I've got work until 7 or so today, so feel free to do whatever you want (You're welcome to call me anytime if you need anything!).