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It looks like a scene taken out of a goddamn romance novel. They're lying on their back, sharing a blanket to prevent the cold from the ground to chill their bones, fucking stargazing. Further up the hill, Katsuki can hear someone playing soft guitar music, no lyrics, only the sound of the strings being pinched and scratched getting lost in the night air. It should be cold, but everything is surprisingly warm. Maybe it's the heat of Kirishima's body pressed close to his on their shared blanket. Maybe it's the light of Kirishima's smile which hasn't stopped shining since they got here. Maybe it's the weird, fuzzy feeling that drapes over Katsuki like a blanket whenever Kirishima is with him. It's stupid. It's confusing. It doesn't make sense, and Katsuki hates it. How can Kirishima's presence have anything to do with not feeling cold?
A few firebugs buzz about around them. The guitarist has switched to a new, quieter piece, and Kirishima is pointing at the sky. He gushes excitedly about a constellation - when did he become so well-read about astronomy? - but Katsuki isn't paying attention. At least not to what he's saying. He's looking at Kirishima, staring at him, because he doesn't fucking understand. Why are they here? Why is Kirishima here, with him? Why does he like it so much, that Kirishima is here, with him, that he's not alone? Why does he care?
Sunlight reflects on the moon, which projects the light on Kirishima's face. He doesn't even need it to glow. Kirishima is radiant on his own, a brilliant star gazing up at millions of others. But none of them seems as bright as him. Katsuki can't tear his eyes away from him, from the sharp spikes of red hair that adorn his head like a crown, fiery and proud, to the straight bridge of his nose, the dangerous edge of his teeth, the square of his jaw. Kirishima is all lines and angles, at first glance. But then you start to notice the openness of his eyes, the round of his cheeks, the fullness of his lips, the curves of his smile. He is sharp and soft, dangerous and comforting, hard and tender all at once, and Kirishima is beautiful in the contradiction.
The music shifts again, and it's then that Katsuki completely drowns in the scene. Kirishima drops his hand back to his side and turns his head sideways to look at him. Moonlight, firebugs, a fucking light from within that seems to radiate from Kirishima himself illuminates ruby red eyes when they lock on his. The beaming, excited smile turns smaller, softer. Katsuki loses himself.
He cups Kirishima's cheek with one hand - his skin is softer than he had expected - and barely registers wide, red, red eyes before he places his mouth over Kirishima's. His eyes slip shut, trying to savour the moment, the feeling of Kirishima's mouth pressed against his, before he has to pull back. He hears a soft sound coming out of Kirishima's throat - surprise, contentment, anger, he's not sure - and tries to move away, but then Kirishima slips his hand under his jaw, slots their lips together, and-
They're kissing. He, Bakugou Katsuki, is kissing Kirishima Eijirou in the cheesiest, most romantic setting known to man. He kisses Kirishima once, twice, and again, under the moonlight, with the stars for company and a soft guitar. Katsuki feels like the hero of a movie. Isn't that what heroes used to get, before they became a reality with flaws and little romance? A kiss with the one they loved, a promise of happily ever after? Katsuki thinks it's a part of the deal he can handle. Right now, there's nowhere else he'd rather be.