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Kirishima rolls onto her back and groans.
Final exams were absolutely brutal. She hopes she never has to cram so many muscle names into her brain ever again, especially without her girlfriend’s help. It’s not that she isn’t capable; something about Bakugou’s crass yet effective tutoring makes everything stick. Regardless, if she wants to succeed as a physical therapist, she has to pass all her exams with flying colors.
Two years down, five more to go.
Kirishima turns onto her side, her cameo comforter squishing beneath her cheek. Her brain is fried from stress and vocabulary words, leaving her with only two trains of thought: sleeping and Bakugou.
Bakugou, her beautiful, bright, intelligent girlfriend, still hasn’t returned from her study abroad in New York. Kirishima is glad her roommate is out, so she can sulk in peace in their dorm. It’s only been a couple of weeks, but the time difference and their packed schedules make video calls scarce. Not to mention all the missed messages in their history because of exam preparation
Consumed with longing, Kirishima closes her eyes. It’s late in the afternoon, still too early to fall asleep, but her body still sins into the mattress. She could use some rest.
She was more tired than she thought. It’s well into the evening when she comes to, the darkness behind her eyelids confirming it. She hears quiet murmuring, sluggishly assuming it belongs to her roommate. But Kirishima’s brows pinch when palms caress her cheeks, calloused and warm. Something wet and soft presses against her brow bone.
A whisper tickles her temple. “Eijirou.”
What a pleasant voice, low and gentle.
Wait. Kirishima knows that voice.
Her eyes flutter open and, even with no lamp and only the moon to guide her, she recognizes that face from anywhere. Spiky hair, sharp cheekbones, and even sharper eyes. Eyes that are worn with shadows underneath them, but still watch her fondly.
“Katsuki,” Kirishima gasps, eyes widening before she throws her arms around her. Bakugou huffs, but she returns the embrace. “Why didn’t tell me you were back!” Her tone is indignant
Bakugou snorts. “I did, idiot,” she says. “I texted you.”
Face buried in the blond’s neck, Kirishima thinks. There was a brief instance when she woke up from her nap. Vaguely, she remembers hearing a ‘manly!’ exclamation from her phone before drifting again.
“Oh,” she mumbles, her grin turning sheepish. “Whoops.”
A closed fist hits her on the head. “Dumbass,” Bakugou says affectionately, grinning as Kirishima whines about her tender, overworked brain. She’s just as quick to card her fingers through her red hair, grazing the base of her neck. “You probably didn’t even feel it.”
“So mean,” she pouts, lying down and wriggling back to watch her girlfriend. Despite the exhaustion on her face, Bakugou looks beautiful, even more so with the playful smirk. Streaks of silver light caress her nose, her cheeks, and the stretch of her lips; all of it making her look ethereal. Unable to help herself, Kirishima leans in for a kiss.
Bakugou hums, cupping the back of her neck with one hand, the other rubbing circles underneath her ear. A shudder runs down Kirishima’s spine. She didn’t realize how badly she missed her girlfriend until it was her hands on her skin. She doesn’t know when Bakugou fully climbs onto her small bed, but she’s not complaining as their legs intertwine.
Bakugou pulls away until their lips barely brush. “You need a haircut.” She twirls her finger around the strands.
Kirishima blinks, eyes hazy. “Mm,” and she leans back in for more. Again and again.
Bakugou fully separates their lips this time. Ignoring Kirishima’s pout, the blond starts pressing fleeting kisses all over her face, wherever she can reach, making her grin. Bakugou kisses underneath her chin and she giggles. It tickles. She wraps her arms tighter around Bakugou, forearms resting on her back.
“Did you bring me back a souvenir?” she says.
“Yes, Eiji,” Bakugou drawls, lips brushing her neck, “I brought you back a fucking souvenir,” Kirishima can feel her smirking.
Her eyes narrow skeptically. “...It’s not a t-shirt, is it?”
“Mhm. Looks dumb as shit, too.”
“Katsuki!” Kirishima exclaims, squeezing her tight as revenge. Bakugou growls “Not even a sporty keychain? Or a funny-looking shot glass? Terrible, man.”
“Whatever. You’ll wear it anyways.“ Bakugou sniffs. “Why are you so chatty? You were just knocked out a second ago.”
“Well,” she says, amused by her girlfriend’s petulance, “I missed you. But you’re back now, so 'm happy.”
Bakugou pauses for a long time, and Kirishima can tell her cheeks are pink. She giggles and Bakugou retaliates by pinching her neck. With how loudly she yelps from pain, she almost misses the quiet, soft response:
“Missed you too or whatever... Now shut the fuck up ‘n don’t stop holding me.”