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Affairs of the Heart

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Milling about the room, turning the TV off and then on again, brewing a pot of tea, snacking on whatever you could find in the fridge, none of it seemed to relieve any of your stress while you waited for Kirishima to arrive. Every few minutes, your mind wandered back to that night, back to Bakugou’s soft call of your name before he left, back to the terrified looks of shock they both wore when you’d caught them, back to the repetitive motion of her…

No, you thought, shaking your head. No, stop thinking about it. God fucking dammit, stop thinking about it. Your fingers ran through your hair, pushing it back into an uneven part as your nails scraped your scalp. You needed something to take the edge off. Anything to make you stop thinking about it.

Wine. Wine would help.

Stumbling into the kitchen, you made your way to the drink fridge. Across the counter, the tea kettle whistled loudly, demanding its boiling contents be used to brew a more helpful drink in this situation, but you simply ignored it. Fumbling among the half-empty bottles of seltzer and juices, you finally managed to yank free an unopened bottle of rosé. It had been pushed to the back, which either meant it was the cheapest bottle you owned and you had never wanted to drink it or it was the most expensive bottle you owned and you had never had an excuse to drink it. You didn’t even bother to check the label to figure out which it was. Instead, you slammed it on the counter – anymore force may have broken it – and pulled a corkscrew a neighboring drawer. You haphazardly uncorked it.

Knock, knock. Two heavy raps on the door. Kirishima.

Eyes darting around the room at the mess you’d created in your attempt to fight off a meltdown, you debated whether or not to do a rushed clean-up to make it more presentable. Who were you kidding, though? You had practically cried over the phone to him, it shouldn’t matter if he saw the catastrophe that was your apartment. It wasn’t a good look, but you didn’t have half a mind to care.

So, you shuffled to the door, tugging it open to find the familiar sharp teeth, crimson hair, and slanted eyes. He didn’t say anything when he saw you. His eyes only shifted across your form, likely taking in your disaster of an appearance. Why had you called him? Why had you bothered him? It was a weekend and he was supposed to be out on patrol! You were depriving the city of a top hero just because you couldn’t get in control of your emotions, for God’s sake!

“Hey,” you mumbled. “Sorry I called you, I’m sure you’re busy. You know, I’m actually fine. You can go back to whatever you need to do.”

“Liar.” Kirishima stepped forward, reaching out and pulling you into his chest in one motion, giving you no choice but to accept the warm embrace. You struggled for a moment, trying to pull free of his grip, but it was fruitless, his arms too strong and your will too weak to accomplish anything. After a moment, you fell still.

It was actually a nice sensation, a warm hug with no ulterior motive behind it, just comfort. Sighing into his chest, you thought back to the last time you had received a hug like that. It had at least been a few months. Since you and Bakugou broke up, for sure. God, you had missed it.

And then, something in you just broke. You weren’t even sure what caused it, but with a comfortable presence holding you safe, the anxiety and frustration and anger and maybe even grief just came spiraling back in one massive surge of emotion, washing over you before you could stop it. Wrapping your arms around his back, you clutched at his sweatshirt and sobbed into his chest.

“I’m – sniff – really…really sorry.” You struggled to get the words out. Once the tears started, you lost all ability to control them. You were crying louder and harder than you had on the day that it all happened in the first place, wailing like a dying seagull and probably coating Kirishima will plenty of nasty substances. “I-I swear this isn’t – hic – normal for me.” You buried your face further into his chest, too embarrassed to make eye-contact.

“Don’t apologize, but could you let go for just a second? So, I can at least close the door?” His grip loosened.

You pulled away in embarrassment, scrubbing at your tear-stained cheeks and eyes with the back of your hand. It was pathetic how easily you had lost control of your emotions and you were dead-set on not doing the same thing again, now that you were free of his grasp. You watched as Kirishima shut the door with a soft click, sliding his shoes off just next to it in the entryway.

Ringing your hands, you shuffled back into the kitchen, not wanting to look at him. You were starting to regain composure and that left you with an inability to look him in the eye, mortified over the unnecessary drama you had just caused. Instead, you started to pickup the clutter you had left across your countertop. The kettle was screaming for attention, a plume of steam whizzing out of it, and ten different types of snacks lay out, most of which only had a bite or two taken out of them.

“What’s all the food for?” Kirishima asked, nearly making you jump out of your skin. Standing right behind you, he glanced about the room, getting a lay of the land. He had been in your apartment plenty of times back when Bakugou still lived with you. He practically lived there himself when the two were working on some big villain bust together, the two of them falling asleep on the couch after obsessively researching the villains or planning their method of attack. But that had all gone away as soon as Bakugou was out. There was something different about having Kirishima in the apartment now. It was your apartment now, not a shared one, so Kirishima being there meant he was there for you and you alone, a fact that still felt out of place. Just hearing his voice in that context made you anticipate Bakugou’s voice calling out from the living room, armed with a sarcastic comment in response.

But no such response came. Practically all traces of your ex-boyfriend had disappeared from the apartment long ago. All that you had left of your time with Bakugou were a few straw mugs he had probably assumed were yours, an old lamp so ugly that you weren’t even sure why Bakugou bought it in the first place, and a large, empty dresser in the bedroom that had been too heavy for him to lug out on his own. You could count the traces of Bakugou on one hand. Well, two hands if you included the added bonus that was standing right behind you.

“Oh, um, I was just craving different things.” You darted to the food, shoving it back into the fridge randomly, not bothering to organize the shelves. You’d deal with it later.

“Uh-huh.” He was unconvinced. Striding past you, he pulled the tea kettle off the stove and set it on the granite, letting it cool down to stop whistling. “And the kettle that’s been continuously whistling?”

“I was going to make some tea, like you said to.”

“Mmm,” was his only response. He glanced around. “And the freshly opened bottle of wine?”

“Um.” You didn’t have an answer for that one.

“[Y/L/N], what happened?” He turned around to look at you, eyes soft and full of worry. Kirishima probably had a good 8-10 inches on you, plus a boatload of muscle mass – he was, in general, a big guy – so just meeting his gaze, you felt puny. But his gaze was gentle still. It left you with that same warm, calm sensation that his tight hug had before. This man was clearly made to be a hero with the build to easily fight of villains, but the demeanor to soothe the victims.

“That girl came here.”

“What girl?”

“The one that…um…with Katsuki…” You didn’t finish your thought, but based on the understanding that washed across Kirishima’s face, he seemed to have filled in the blanks.

“What did she want?”

“She said she wanted to apologize, but I really didn’t want to hear it. I kicked her out before she really had the chance to say anything.” You paused, wrinkling your brows in thought. “It wasn’t really that bad, I guess. I don’t know… Seeing her face just made me think about all of it again.” Resting your elbows against the countertop, you let your head fall down into your hands. “God, I’m sorry I called you. It was so stupid.”

A pair of hands pulled your face back up. Squishing your cheeks together, he stared directly down at you, forcing you to maintain eye-contact that you had no been prepared to hold.

“Please, stop apologizing,” he said, pulling you forward so you were almost nose-to-nose. “I came here because I wanted to help you. It was entirely my choice and you don’t need to stress about bothering me because you aren’t.” You could feel your cheeks going warm in his grip and you couldn’t quite tell if it was the temperature of his palms or the proximity to his face that was the perpetrator.

“Okay, thank you,” you mumbled, the syllables strung together due to your pinched lips. At your response, his grip loosened, but didn’t fall away from face, instead they just shifted to gently cupped. His thumb slid across the smooth texture of your cheek.

Okay, the heat in your skin had absolutely nothing to do with how warm his hands were. An attractive man was cradling your face an inch away from his own and now his was stroking your goddamn cheeks. You had to free yourself or you’d find yourself diving headfirst into a very morally-grey area.

You took a couple steps back, pulling your head from his grip.

“So, you want some tea or wine?” you asked awkwardly. You gestured back to the kettle and bottle, as if it weren’t already obvious that the two options were out and available. The silence from Kirishima after your question was deafening, the only sound being the low murmur of voices from the TV in the living room, and it felt like you had said or done something wrong. He just looked at you with an undecipherable expression. It could have meant anything from pity to confusion to nervousness to a whole host of other emotions, none of which you could place. “Kirishima?”

“[Y/L/N], what actually happened that night?” All your muscles tensed at once.

“What?”

“Bakugou refuses to tell me anything about that night. All he ever says is ‘I fucked up.’” Kirishima’s eyes were set, perfectly serious. You couldn’t stand to maintain eye-contact with them, so you averted your gaze. “So, what actually happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’d really like to know your side of it.”

“Please, Kirishima, I don’t want to.” You made the mistake of looking back up at him. His eyes were wide and innocent, like a puppy begging for treats. God dammit, that was unfair.

“Please?”

“Ugh.” You sucked in a large breath of air, held it for a moment, then released it in a quick burst. “Fine, but we’re sitting in the living room for this.” You guided Kirishima out of the kitchen to the living room, where you shifted a bag of chips off the couch to sit down. Gesturing to an armchair, you indicated for him to sit down as well. For some reason, however, he opted to sit alongside you at the couch, staring at you with expectant eyes. “I came home early from a conference and it was pretty late at night. I came in, expecting Katsuki to be awake in the living room, but he wasn’t there so I went looking in the bedroom. I got there and I could hear two voices, one of which was obviously Katsuki, the other was the chick.” Kirishima raised his brows at you, as if indicating for you to use more detail. “God, I don’t fucking know. I guess I hoped for a second that my ears had deceived me, but I opened the door and turned on the lights and there they were. Fucking. Clear as day.” You rested your head on the back of the cushions. “I got so mad that I kinda just hit this point of calm anger. I told the girl to leave, but I didn’t yell at her. I guess I swore, but I didn’t yell. At least not until it was just Katsuki and me. God, Kirishima, I was so fucking pissed.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I had no idea. That’s horrible.”

“You’re goddamn right it’s horrible!” You sat straight up. “And she said that she didn’t know he was dating anyone, but there’s no way that’s true. It was in the news all the time for a while; there’s no way she didn’t know!” You were really getting going now. “Jesus Christ, Katsuki really just went with the first chick that’d have him after I left. You know what? Fuck him! Katsuki can just go to hell! Why fuck should I be left with all this goddamn emotional baggage, while he’s off being a hero like nothing fucking happened! And I get his side chick coming in begging to apologize to me – and we all known that’s just a ploy to make herself feel better – who is all nervous and upset and basically on the verge of crying.” There were tears streaming down your face and your voice had risen to a full-on yell. “Well, fuck her too! She doesn’t get to cry in this situation! I’m the one that really wants to cry! Fuck her and fuck Katsuki and goddamn fucking dammit.” You slammed your fist into Kirishima’s chest. But, when the last words left your mouth, somehow you felt relieved. The anxiety and frustration and anger and maybe even grief had dissolved as soon as they’d arrived. You looked up at him with red eyes.

“Feel better?” he asked with a soft smile and quirked brow.

“Yes, I fucking do.”

And it seemed like the restrain you had been showing earlier dissolved with your emotions because you reached up, draping your arms around his neck and pulled him down into a hard kiss.