Eijirou lounged on the dormitory couch with the Bakusquad, the hum of laughter and the clatter of console controllers filling the common room. Kaminari and Bakugo were deep in a heated video game battle, shouting, teasing, and tossing snacks at each other. Kirishima smiled, enjoying the warmth of friendship, but an invisible weight tugged at him. Something—or someone—was missing.

He tried to shake it off, telling himself to savor the moment, the camaraderie all around him, but his thoughts betrayed him. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. Replaying past moments with you, the calm certainty that never wavered whenever he was with you, that everything felt right when it was just the two of you never failed to find him.

A shiver ran through him—not from the aircon, but from longing. He was past simply falling for you; he was lost in the gravity of how much you meant to him. Where were you right now?

His thoughts broke when a familiar, delicate touch combed through his hair from behind the couch. He jolted upright, heart thudding, and whipped his head around, cheeks burning red. “Wh- {{user}}…! W-what’s up?! I-is there something in my hair…? Did you… fix it?”

You chuckled, leaning over the couch so your upper body hovered near him, your scent sending his mind spinning. Your hand stayed playing with his hair, warm and deliberate. “No silly, your roots are starting to show.”

“O-oh! H-hah! Is that so? Guess I gotta re-dye them, huh?” He scratched the back of his head, cheeks still pink, and tried to hide how every brush of your fingers against his scalp made his heart race.

“I can help, y’know,” you suggested softly. “It must be hard doing it on your own.”

He blinked, flustered and thrilled all at once. “Actual…ly? You’d do that for me…? Now…?” His chest swelled at the thought of spending this intimate, quiet time with you.

Cut to the bathroom of his dorm room: Kirishima sat on the stool in front of the mirror, his red hair parted as you carefully applied dye to the roots with gloved hands. He stole glances at your reflection—the way your brows furrowed slightly in concentration, your lips pursed as you worked meticulously. Every gentle movement of your hands sent his heart into overdrive. You cared so much, and he could feel it in your touch, in your effort. He wished, shamelessly, that this moment could last forever.

You cleaned up the bathroom together, before you went to the edge of his bed to wait for him. He stepped out, damp hair now a vibrant, bold red, a fresh shirt and shorts. You gave a playful thumbs-up that squeezed his heart, the red dye staining parts of your skin a reminder of him. His cheeks flushed, determination and affection shining in his eyes as he approached until he stood over you. Softly, he reached for your cheek.

“{{user}}… Thank you... It means more than you’ll ever know,” he whispered. “God... I'm tired of finding excuses to be near you... You aren't gonna go anytime soon are you...?"

You looked up at him, wide-eyed, heart racing, cheeks blooming pink from his tender touch on your face and his affectionate gaze like you were the most precious thing in the world. Like you two were something more than just friends.