[ jokes on bakugou, there is nothing he can do to come off as weak in denji's eyes. if only the hero knew the type of strength that he'd seen in him from day one, and it had little to do with his quirk and winning records. it's his unapologetic confidence. katsuki stays true to himself no matter what, and even if he's dealing with a tough situation that does leave its scars in his heart, his next step would always be 'how can i do better next time?'. his spirit is too strong, too attractive, too appealing, and denji couldn't help but to be admired by his shine. he had never been jealous or intimidated with the gap between them, the broad diversity from someone who had high ideals, high standards and demands to be treated in the way he fucking deserves — and there is denji who'd been living in the streets, used and abused, covered in gore and a broken soul. even when they stand by each other's sides, with the half-devil treated as equal, it's hard to deny the reality. they both try to save, but in two extremely diverse ideologies. denji is drifting further and further from what’s right, slipping into something colder, something less human. but that’s exactly where bakugou’s strength becomes his anchor.
just being near him is grounding. watching his boyfriend stand proud to his ideals, even when everything seems hopeless ... is powerful. he doesn’t waver. he puts the safety of others before himself, tirelessly tending to civilians, working with the medical herbs to heal the outsiders. his determination doesn't just inspire— it reminds denji there is hope in this life. maybe if the world had more heroes, it wouldn't be as grim and hopeless. wouldn't it be cool if he was the inspiration? ah, it's a lovely thought. it brings a smile, even when it is unlikely to be his fate back home. a guy can dream, right? ]
True ... but I bet you gave him hell. [ with a tired smile, denji attempts to lighten the mood. the more they speak, the more reassured he feels that his boyfriend will be fine. the fact he's talking about it, tone clear and guard down, denji knew the trauma of that day has no hold on the other— otherwise, he would still run away with it, bury it down, and suppress it. a part of him wanted to listen to him more, tempted to ask him about izuku, but he didn't want to push his lover too far. instead, he stays silent, eyes attentive, even behind low lashes and heavy bags. a quiet, focused stare that silently promised him he would listen to anything and everything. at his own pace, no pressure.
and then - a single fingertip brushed over the curve of his mouth, light in its touch. the simple gesture pulled something loose in him, pulled deeper into the calm they created just by being there. denji nestled in, resting more of his weight on their shared pillow. Then, almost instinctively, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on the side of his finger. he started to, slowly, caress bakugou's back, blindly following the curve and somewhat tugging on the drenched fabric of his shirt so it wouldn't stick to his skin too much; trying to make his boyfriend more comfortable. ] I'm sorry for not believing you at first. When you said you're fine ...
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just being near him is grounding. watching his boyfriend stand proud to his ideals, even when everything seems hopeless ... is powerful. he doesn’t waver. he puts the safety of others before himself, tirelessly tending to civilians, working with the medical herbs to heal the outsiders. his determination doesn't just inspire— it reminds denji there is hope in this life. maybe if the world had more heroes, it wouldn't be as grim and hopeless. wouldn't it be cool if he was the inspiration? ah, it's a lovely thought. it brings a smile, even when it is unlikely to be his fate back home. a guy can dream, right? ]
True ... but I bet you gave him hell. [ with a tired smile, denji attempts to lighten the mood. the more they speak, the more reassured he feels that his boyfriend will be fine. the fact he's talking about it, tone clear and guard down, denji knew the trauma of that day has no hold on the other— otherwise, he would still run away with it, bury it down, and suppress it. a part of him wanted to listen to him more, tempted to ask him about izuku, but he didn't want to push his lover too far. instead, he stays silent, eyes attentive, even behind low lashes and heavy bags. a quiet, focused stare that silently promised him he would listen to anything and everything. at his own pace, no pressure.
and then - a single fingertip brushed over the curve of his mouth, light in its touch. the simple gesture pulled something loose in him, pulled deeper into the calm they created just by being there. denji nestled in, resting more of his weight on their shared pillow. Then, almost instinctively, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on the side of his finger. he started to, slowly, caress bakugou's back, blindly following the curve and somewhat tugging on the drenched fabric of his shirt so it wouldn't stick to his skin too much; trying to make his boyfriend more comfortable. ] I'm sorry for not believing you at first. When you said you're fine ...