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A man stood opposite Katsuki, a crisp white suit adorning his body and an untameable bed of moss green hair sitting atop his head. An officiant stood between them, two gold rings in hand, and a head full of vows to recite. Izuku smiled meekly, uttering incomprehensibly at the officiant’s instruction. His mouth was moving and he was saying something, but the words didn’t reach Katsuki. Instead, they swam around his head, escaping his eardrums.
He glanced around the room, where about 20 people sat. 40 eyes watched the two men as they were about to get married. Most of them were smiling, Katsuki observed. Crimson eyes met ruby ones, and he stared at his mother’s face. A soft smile was painted on her cherry lips, her eyes were bright and sparkly. Internally, he scoffed. A room decorated with fake smiles to match a fake marriage. A pang of resentment shot through him upon locking eyes with his mother, who had been the one who forced him to do this in the first place. Katsuki still remembered the day his mother had approached him, telling him that they had located a spouse for him.
“Katsuki!” Mitsuki had exclaimed, wearing a joyful expression that was almost irritating.
“What?” Katsuki replied, irritated at the disruption. He had been concentrating on trying to get his form right in Karate. He was only one belt away from a black one, and he didn’t want to let his teacher, Toshinori, down.
“Our business is saved!” She grinned, grabbing his hands. Her hands were cool against his. He snatched them back, tucking them behind his back out of reach.
“That’s great.” He tried his best to smile. He had known that his family was having trouble with their business, but a small part of him was enjoying the fleeting freedom he received from the business being temporarily out of action. “What changed?”
Mitsuki’s smile shrank, and her eyes skirted around her son. “Now don’t freak out,” She began, choosing her words mindfully, “There’s just something you need to do for it to fully be salvaged.”
Crimson eyes narrowed as he regarded his mother’s suspicious expression. “What is it...?”
“You need to get married.”
Katsuki’s thought process halted. “What?!” He borderline screeched. “No!”
Mitsuki’s face grew stern, and she glared at him. “You don’t have a choice.”
“You can’t make me get married!” Katsuki was indignant. A visceral sense of anger flooded through him at the prospect of being forced to get married. To a complete stranger, much less.
“Katsuki please, this is the only way!” Mitsuki’s tone rose for a moment and then softened slightly, while her eyes remained hard. “We’re doing this for you, for our family, and it’s not as though we’d set you up with someone dangerous!” She added as an afterthought, scoffing.
Katsuki gritted his teeth, he wanted to scream at her. He wanted to shout at her and tell her how much he hated her right in that moment. Did she even understand what she was making him do? Marriage wasn’t a temporary thing; it was a lifelong commitment! A commitment that 23-year-old Katsuki was unsure he was able to make. It was bad enough that his entire future was already planned out from birth. As an only child, he had a duty to take over his parent’s business, and that fact alone had taken him most of his life to accept. An overwhelming desire to pursue a career in engineering had driven this, resulting in many futile arguments with his parents regarding his future. He remembered being struck, over and over again, while his mother tried to destroy his passion for engineering, whilst instilling into him the fact that any other career choice was preposterous.
The years following that, Katsuki had laid awake in bed for hours, simply thinking. The soft breeze from his open window ruffled his hair softly as he was deep in thought. He wondered what would have become of him if he was able to go back in time. Oh, the extent to which he would go to in order to gain that privilege, to comfort a sobbing blonde boy when no one else would. To tell 9-year-old Katsuki to simply accept it, and that he would forever be a puppet to his parent’s wills regardless. Maybe a waterfall of tears would have been reduced to a trickle. A closet wouldn’t have become his safe space, where his only comfort was a blanket of darkness, one that would surely accept his tears. Perhaps the wardrobe would have simply been used for hanging clothes.
A seed was planted inside him, one that would bloom into hatred and resentment. It was nurtured by the darkness and his constant stream of tears, and by age 23, it was almost fully matured.
He argued profusely, remaining adamant that he didn’t want to marry a complete stranger for his parent’s benefit, yet was left with no choice. Katsuki’s parents owned a luxury goods retail chain, while Izuku’s parents ran a high-end art gallery. Both of them saw the union as a way to solidify their influence in the elite circles they occupied, as a strategic move to expand their reach and maintain their status. And so Izuku and Katsuki were left with little choice in the matter, a situation Katsuki was unfortunately used to.
A clear of Izuku’s throat snapped him back to reality, drawing his eyes towards the freckled man who was now looking at him expectantly.
Shit, what was I supposed to say?
Izuku sighed upon Katsuki’s confused expression, the sides of his plastic smile slightly lowering before raising once more. He nodded towards the officiant.
Oh, the vows, Katsuki realise belatedly.
“I do.” Katsuki cringed at his own words. He didn’t even know what he was agreeing to. Who even was he? Katsuki found himself questioning. He didn’t know anything about him, beside his name and parent’s business, of course. He didn’t want to get married to him, to this man whom he didn’t know. But it was too late to argue. The wedding hall erupted into cheers as two plastic rings were slid onto both men’s hands. Artificial smiles adorned their faces, a dead spark in their eyes as they stared at each other.
The rest of the night went by in a blur. Drinks magically refilled themselves in his hand. People continuously approached Katsuki to pat him on the back, congratulating him for his marriage and engaging in meaningless small talk. Katsuki didn’t hear a word. People came and went in a blur. Izuku sat at the end of the room with his parents, but Katsuki didn’t notice. Instead, he stared out the window, watching the sun slowly disappear beneath the horizon. Distantly he wished he could hide like the sun too.
Katsuki and Izuku sat in silence, the tension ringing through the air. The wedding was over, and they had both moved into their new apartment, which was funded by the profits of their families businesses. Katsuki flopped face down on the couch, which was position in front of the tv. Izuku timidly sat at the other end.
“So,” He began, weakly. “I guess we’re married now, huh?”
Katsuki shrugged, “Guess so,”
“Look,” Izuku fidgeted with his hands, sitting up straight. “I know this isn’t entirely ideal, but I hope we can-“
“Do what?” Katsuki snapped, interrupting him. “Become all lovely-dovey just because you’re my so-called husband now?”
“That’s not what I was going to sa-“, Izuku tried to argue, but was once again cut off by Katsuki.
“Just because we’re legally bound as husbands now doesn’t mean that we’re gonna live some stupid, happily ever after, like a goddamn fairytale!” Katsuki raised his voice, furrowing his eyebrows in rage. All of the pent-up anger and frustrations he had bottled up the past few months regarding his feelings towards his parents, and his unwillingness to get married to a complete stranger were now taken out on Izuku. It wasn’t fair, Katsuki came to realise later, after all, he was just as stuck as the blonde was. But anger clouded his mind and as per usual, he spoke without thinking. “Get real, Deku! This is real life, not some fucking fantasy world!”
Izuku flinched at the new nickname, a derivative of the Japanese word for useless. “You’re not the only one that feels strongly about this, you know.” The green haired boy mumbled angrily, crossing his arms and directing his gaze away from Katsuki’s seething one.
“Then I’m glad we have something we can agree on.” Katsuki mocked him, corners of his lips raising in an artificial smile.
“Great start to a marriage,” Izuku muttered.
Katsuki rolled his eyes at the uncharacteristic sassiness, “Just stay out of my way, and maybe we won’t kill each other.”
Izuku remained silent, eyes trained on the black TV screen which sat in front of the couch. He seemed to be deep thought, Katsuki noted, watching as his fingers twitched on his lap. Suddenly, he stood up straight, leaving the couch and retreating into their now shared room without a single backwards glance. A pang of irritation shot through Katsuki, but was quickly suppressed by a heaviness in his eyelids. He was still in his suit, having not had the energy to change, but he didn’t care. His mother would probably bitch about how he got an expensive suit wrinkled by sleeping in it, but the circumstances which led to his mother buying it in the first place prevented any formation of guilt. It had been a shitty day, and because of all of the trouble he went to, he decided he deserved this tiny act of rebelliousness to feel in control again.
Katsuki woke to the smell of eggs. Or more precisely, burnt eggs. The smell wafted in from the kitchen, tickling Katsuki’s nostrils until he was forced conscious in a panic. Who was in his kitchen, currently burning eggs? Memories of the night before flooded into his mind, and a sense of dread filled him at the prospect of getting up and facing the green haired monster whom he presumed was in the kitchen.
“Ugh,” He groaned, wanting to fall back into a dream. The light filtered through the curtains, fierce rays of sunlight assaulting him. Slowly, he squinted as he opened his eyes. A sharp feeling of pain shot through his head as he sat up, using his hands as leverage. Absentmindedly, he glanced around. The living room was the same as it had been yesterday, only with pillows strewn on the floor that Katsuki had most likely kicked in his slumber.
Jeez, He brought his hand up to his head as another episode of pain assaulted him. How much did I drink last night? He absentmindedly wondered, massaging his temple. Shaking his head, he glanced upwards to read the clock hanging on the bare walls. 11:06am.
Shit, Katsuki fumbled, shooting upright, ignoring the pain in his head. He never woke up this late, and he would be damned if a forced wedding affected his routine. His bare feet hit the floorboards with a thud, and he idly wondered where his socks disappeared to. The floor was cool against his feet as he made his way to the kitchen, trying to prepare himself for what he was about to see. He turned the corner and was met with the sight of Deku in an apron, standing in front of a frying pan with an expression of disdain on his face. The stove was off, and he was simply staring wistfully at what Katsuki assumed was a failed meal on the pan.
He sighed, taking a step inside. The floorboards creaked, and Izuku snapped his head up instantly, moving to cover the contents of the frying pan.
“M-morning.” He stuttered, watching as Katsuki made his way closer to the stove. He carefully followed Katsuki’s movements, to the way he stopped short of the pan, and how he regarded him with an unamused expression.
“What is this?” Katsuki asked, raising his eyebrows in a manner that showed he was not up to whatever games Izuku was playing.
Izuku fidgeted with his hands slightly, and Katsuki had to fight the urge to hold them still. “M-Making breakfast.”
“For who?”
Izuku’s heart sank, “For you, of course.”
Katsuki curled his upper lip up in disgust, regarding the burnt mess that was the egg sitting on the pan. “You expect me to eat this shit?”
“Well, no-“ Izuku started, but was interrupted by Katsuki.
“Move over.” He said, shoving the green haired man to the side roughly. He took the handle of the pan and threw the contents in the bin, before setting it back over the stove. Moving to the fridge, he pulled out two eggs. “I’ll do it myself.”
A single piece of bread sitting on a plate nearby caught his eye, and he stepped towards it, prodding it with his finger carefully. It was damp and moist. Soggy toast.
He turned to Izuku, who was simply standing lifelessly in the kitchen. “What’s this?” He asked him.
Izuku remained silent for a while, before eventually opening his mouth. “It was toast,” He mumbled, “…For you.”
Katsuki’s face contorted into one of disgust, for both the meal and at the green haired man for even expecting he would eat it. Izuku didn’t say another word simply looking down at his feet in a way that was almost shameful. An unidentifiable feeling tugged at Katsuki upon Izuku’s reaction. Was it guilt? Surely not. He wasn’t the bad guy for wanting to eat edible food, right? Yeah, it was Izuku’s fault. It was all Izuku’s fault for even thinking he could cook for Katsuki in the first place, with his clearly non-existent culinary skills. Yet even long after the freckled man had, and Katsuki was standing above the pan, watching his egg slowly cook, he still pondered it. Surely, he wasn’t horrible for wanting something so simple.
The next couple of weeks passed by in a blur. Katsuki went to work. Izuku went to work. They didn’t talk to each other. Katsuki made dinner. They sat at the table and ate in silence. They didn’t talk to each other. Katsuki regarded Izuku with a sense of muted hostility, glaring at him from across the room in a way that is commonly associated with rivals. They had some arguments that had changed nothing. Rough patches over their messy apartment. Inconsistencies in each other’s schedules, resulting in many times moments where Izuku had to run to get groceries last minute. Arguments over each other’s habits, where Katsuki would continuously scold Izuku for leaving his toothpaste out. Little things. Yet Izuku didn’t react. He didn’t talk back. He didn’t do anything to upset Katsuki, simply silently made the bed and made his way to work. No words. No emotions. A doll. A punching bag. A Deku. With every spat, Katsuki felt the glass of patience he had for the green haired man slowly rise, almost reaching its limit. And if it didn’t overflow soon, then it would crack and shatter in a way that was irreparable.
Katsuki groaned, hitting his head on his desk. His co-workers briefly looked up at him, but decided not to pry and simply let it be. How did he get stuck with such a pushover for a husband? How did he even get himself into this? Briefly he wondered what gods he had pissed off to end up with a fate like this. It had only been three weeks of this suffocating environment, and it was driving Katsuki insane. A sense of dread filled him at the prospect of spending the rest of his life in such a dull manner. No. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t-
“Dude,” A voice broke him out of his thoughts, causing him to whip his head up. “Are you good?” Kirishima looked at him with an expression of confusion and worry. His eyebrow was raised as he regarded the blonde man falling apart on his desk.
“Oh, it’s you.” Katsuki replied, setting his cheek back on the cool wood of his desk. He looked at Kirishima above him. “What do you want?”
“I asked if you were okay, man.” The redhead pressed.
Katsuki groaned, “I’m fine, just leave me alone.”
Kirishima furrowed his eyebrows, and instead of leaving, he pulled up a chair and sat next to Katsuki. Setting his elbows down on the table and resting his hands on it, he spoke again. “You clearly aren’t, so just tell me what’s up.”
Katsuki turned his head away, defiantly facing the wall instead of the red head who had now settled himself at his desk. “And if I don’t?”
Kirishima huffed, “Then I’ll stay here until you do.”
Katsuki groaned loudly, setting his forehead down on the cool wood of his desk once more, eyes trained on his fidgeting hands that were resting on his lap. “It’s Izuku.” He finally admitted after a beat of silence.
“Your husband?”
Katsuki’s head shot up, and he regarded Kirishima with a heated glare. The redhead looked back sheepishly, raising his hands as he spoke once more, “Sorry, is it a sensitive topic?”
“You wouldn’t believe.” Katsuki grumbled, leaning back on his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.
“So…” Kirishima prompted, “What happened?”
“Nothing, it’s just-“ Katsuki paused, unable to phrase his words right. What was it, really? Was it his oblivious nature? His inability to do anything right? Katsuki was already seething with anger at the idea of having to get married to someone he didn’t even know, and to have to live with such an oblivious man just made it worse. After a moment of silence, he eventually settled on a, “He pisses me off.”
To this, Kirishima burst out into laughter.
“What?!” Katsuki furrowed his eyebrows, confused as to why he was laughing.
“Nothing,” Kirishima managed between his laughs, wiping the corners of his eyes where a wetness had begun to gather. “It’s just that everyone pisses you off.”
Silence. Well, not exactly. Kirishima continued to laugh as the late afternoon sun filtered through their office windows, and briefly Katsuki was confused as to how he could find such a thing so funny. But that wasn’t it. Katsuki’s mind was silent. For a moment, no thoughts raced through it as he briefly contemplated the idea that maybe he was the one making things difficult. At this thought, Katsuki clicked his tongue in disgust. Nope, he immediately denied. It wasn’t his fault that Izuku was so incompetent he couldn’t even make an egg without burning it. It was all Izuku’s fault.
A couple more seconds passed before Kirishima finally calmed down, trying to catch his breath. Katsuki looked on unamused as his sharp teeth were finally concealed as his mouth shut. He quirked an eyebrow, “Are you done?”
Kirishima wiped the remaining tears from his eyes, “Yeah, I’m done.”
“Get out then.”
Kirishima, used to Katsuki’s aloof behaviour after almost 5 years of friendship, simply ignored him and rested his head on his elbows once again. “Is that it, he pisses you off?”
“Mostly.” Katsuki focused his attention on his laptop in front of him once again, punching in his password with the intention of getting his work done as quickly as possible. Man, office jobs sucked.
“Have you at least tried giving him a chance?”
Katsuki’s fingers stopped typing as he side eyed the redhead. No, he hadn’t, but he wasn’t about to admit that and have Kirishima go all lecture mode on him. Instead, he wordlessly stood up, grabbing Kirishima by the hand as he did.
“Bro, what are you doing?” Kirishima spluttered, trying, but failing, to yank his hand out of Katsuki’s iron grip as he dragged him towards the door.
With one final shove, Katsuki shoved Kirishima out of his office door, sparing no time for a goodbye before slamming the door shut.
“This isn’t over, you know!” Kirishima’s muffled voice could be heard from outside. A few of his coworkers were confused as to why he had locked Kirishima out of his own office, but eventually focused back on their work, having grown used to the pairs office-shenanigans. With a sigh, Katsuki made his way back to his own desk and sank into his chair. His work lay forgotten in front of him as he thought of the conversation he had just had. He mulled over the words Kirishima had spoken, throwing them into an imaginary garbage bin he kept in the corner of his brain, specifically for moments like this. The idea of giving Izuku a chance was forgotten, barely even considered in the first place.
The door swung open as Katsuki entered the house, exhausted from his day. He peeled his shirt off his sweaty skin with a groan, leaving him in a simple, black tank top. He couldn’t wait to take a shower, and cleanse himself of the day’s events. His boss had thrust upon him new assignments last minute, and he had stayed late at the Dojo to practise his karate. Sensei Toshinori had told him that upon the next grading, if he was progressing well, he could finally be moved up to a black belt. Nevertheless, he was exhausted. And he was not prepared for the mess that was his home.
“I’m home.” Katsuki recited, out of habit. No one came to greet him, as per usual. With a sigh, he removed his shoes at the genkan and walked into the house, eyes drooping.
As soon as he reached the living room, he was assaulted with the visual of a messy house. The kitchen countertop was a mess, pillows were strewn across the living room, and there was no one in sight. Anger bubbled in Katsuki at the sight, and he yelled for Deku.
“Deku!” He yelled, the events of the day mixing with his anger.
Timidly, the man in question walked into the room. His headphones were on, and in his hands were his laptop, signalling that he was still at work. Briefly, Katsuki glanced at the clock hanging in the living room. It read 8:57pm. Strange, he thought, he should’ve been done by now. Yet even though the reason he probably didn’t clean-up was evidently right in front of Katsuki, his shitty mood prevailed.
“What’s this mess?” He growled, glaring at Izuku, who winced in response.
“Sorry,” He began, adjusting his laptop on his arm. “I didn’t get the time to tidy up.”
Katsuki scowled, “So?” He quirked an eyebrow, “You should’ve done this ages ago!”
“I was working,” Deku’s voice remained level, “I got a call suddenly and had to drop everything.”
Furious, Katsuki stomped over to the couch and began to aggressively rearrange the pillows. “Excuses. Always excuses. If you’re living here, at least pull your own weight.”
“You’re not the only one who’s busy, Katsuki.” Deku spat his name with the most venom he could muster. Why did that make him feel so weird? Katsuki wondered briefly. “I’m trying my best.”
Instantaneously the thought was shaken from his head as he fixed the green haired man with another glare. Katsuki rolled his eyes, stomping out of the room, but not before yelling out, “Well, your ‘best’ sucks!”
He slammed the door shut behind him with a bang. Letting his bag drop to the floor, he collapsed on the bed face first. Groaning, he turned to lie on his back, his eyes trained on the ceiling fan above. From the side table sitting beside the bed, he grabbed the remote and turned it on. His thoughts whirled as he watched the blades slowly begin to gain speed.
Why did he have to be stuck in this relationship? He thought bitterly, of the idea of having to be the one to follow his parent’s desires like a doll. While they were probably relaxing and relishing in his absence, money flowing in from their thriving business, Katsuki was suffering. He was dealing with a man-child for a husband who couldn’t clean up after himself, who couldn’t cook, who was so inconsiderate. He didn’t give him space; he was always there. He didn’t say anything, but his silence vexed Katsuki. His entire presence.
Home was supposed to be a place where one felt safe, comfortable. He didn’t know whether the same was for Izuku, and frankly, he didn’t give a shit, but that wasn’t what home was to Katsuki. To be truthful, he hadn’t felt at home since he gained the knowledge that his parents were essentially selling him. Since his parents had begun to use him, at the tender age of 9. Couldn’t Deku see that? That he was so disgusted with him there? Yet he still remained, and that fact alone pissed Katsuki off. The reality of their recent argument finally settled over Katsuki, the unfairness of the situation that Katsuki now had to deal with due to his parent’s selfish wishes. A wave of anger consumed him at the thought of Izuku once more. At the remembrance that his ‘husband’ couldn’t do anything right. The drops of anger filled the glass inside of Katsuki, but instead of overflowing, a lid was screwed on, a symbol of his determination to keep this façade up. The pressure increased and, in a moment, it exploded. Crack, and shatter.
Katsuki stared at Izuku from across the dinner table, green eyes were trained meekly onto the food sitting untouched in front of him. A pang of irritation shot through Katsuki upon watching his so called ‘husband’ pick at his food.
He clicked his tongue, he couldn’t even eat properly? All of their meals at home were eaten separately, with them being too busy. On the rare occasion that they did have time to eat together, Katsuki would adamantly refuse, instead taking his food back to his own room to eat in peaceful silence, which Izuku sat by himself at the dining table. So this was actually the first time they were eating together, but Katsuki couldn’t even yell with his parents present.
Mitsuki and Masaru sat at opposite sides of the table, with Masaru nervously glancing between Izuku and Katsuki. The day before that, Mitsuki had rung Katsuki, demanding that he bring Izuku over for a family dinner to “see how they were going”. Bullshit, Katsuki thought. She probably just wants to make sure we stay together for the sake of her stupid business.
Katsuki hadn’t wanted to go, and tried to formulate some excuse, but Mitsuki wasn’t having it.
“I already cancelled all of your possible plans and made sure you were available, so you better show up.” She had growled, without giving him a chance to reply before hanging up the phone.
Katsuki brought the phone down from his ear and stared at the now black screen lifelessly. He gritted his teeth, the anger filling him bit by bit, until he eventually couldn’t handle it. With a frustrated scream, he threw his phone across the room and heard it shatter with sickening crack.
Now, Katsuki sat the dinner table, alternating between glaring at Izuku and Mitsuki, unsure of who he should direct his anger to. Eventually, he settled on Mitsuki for dragging him to this stupid dinner for appearances sake. Also, she owed him a new phone.
“So,” Masaru began, breaking the tense silence before he was promptly interrupted by Mitsuki.
“See how important this was?” Mitsuki quipped, twisting a lock of her spiky hair with her fingers. She glanced between Katsuki and Izuku with a condescending smirk. It was as if she was trying to say, ‘I told you so.”
Katsuki gritted his teeth, and briefly though about yelling at her. However instead, he feigned indifference while stuffing his mouth with the --- his mother had made.
“Because of you guys, we’ve excelled so much as a business!” Mitsuki exclaimed, clapping her hands together and smiling sweetly.
Izuku smiled laughed softly, smiling back and Katsuki couldn’t help but grimace. How was he unable to see through his mother’s façade? To see her bitter and scornful attempts at proving how this decision was right?
“Yup,” Katsuki refused to look at his mother, instead examining his cuticles. “Glad you’re happy while I’m stuck living in this mess.”
From beside him, he could hear Izuku slightly choke. Immediately he began to wave his hands around, spluttering an apology to his husband’s rude statement. “No, no, it’s not that bad!” From the corner of his eye, he shot Katsuki a warning glance.
A small part of Katsuki wanted to be glad that Izuku was standing up for himself to some extent, but mostly he was annoyed that he was asserted that they were doing fine, when they clearly weren’t. Tch. He didn’t even bother to look at Izuku when he borderline growled, “Stay out of this.”
With a snap, Mitsuki whipped her head up at Katsuki words, “Don’t talk to him like that,” she scolded him sternly, “He’s your husband and he’s doing his part. You should too.”
Katsuki scoffed, “My part? What about what I wanted?” He paused briefly, not allowing his mother to continue before speaking next. “Or is that not an option ‘cause I’m the heir?”
Izuku and Masaru looked on timidly, unable to decide whether they should step in between mother and son.
Mitsuki rolled her eyes at her son, pushing her hair behind her shoulder as she took a bite out of her food, “You’re impossible Katsuki, this is why you’ll never run the company.”
“It’s not like I ever wante-!” Katsuki almost yelled, before being thankfully interrupted by Masaru.
“Okay, how about we talk about this later, hmm?” He glanced at Izuku not so subtly, who squirmed at his gaze.
Weak ass. Katsuki thought, as he shoved food into his mouth to distract him from clenching his teeth. The room fell into an awkward silence upon Masaru’s diffusion of the situation, the only sound that could be heard was the clinking of metal cutlery against glass plates. Internally, Katsuki groaned. He hated family dinners. It always ended up with an argument, or the environment was so tense through the whole thing that he would’ve been glad if it ended in a screaming competition. He looked towards Izuku, who was now eating timidly in his periphery. Guess they couldn’t exactly do that with him here.
“So,” Masaru began once more, he was looking at Mitsuki, his eyes conveying a silent message not to interrupt him again. A silent argument that lasted almost an eternity was communicated between them before Masaru finally spoke again. “How are things with you boys?”
That was what the build-up was for? Katsuki internally scorned, rolling his eyes at his father’s somewhat pathetic attempt at small talk.
Izuku’s tense shoulders relaxed at Masaru’s words, seeming somewhat relieved that he succeeded in not being interrupted with his wife. Maybe he was scared of Mitsuki, Katsuki thought briefly, before the thought was shaken from his head. It wasn’t like it mattered in the first place.
“We’re both good,” Izuku said, his green curls framing his face in a way that was almost pretty as he spoke. They’d never actually sat beside each other, so Katsuki hadn’t noticed the different shades of green in his hair, mixing together in a way that was almost appealing to the eyes.
Wait, what?
Katsuki choked, banging on his chest to try get the food that was now lodged in his throat out. His eyes began to water as he struggled to rid his throat of the obstruction. What the hell?!
“Shit, are you okay?” Izuku asked, frantically trying to fill a glass of water and give it to him.
“I-I’m fine.” Katsuki wheezed, waving his hand dismissively. He grabbed the glass of water and chugged it down, putting it down with a sigh. His heart was beating so fast he was sure it was about to burst out of his chest.
“If you’re sure,” Izuku replied hesitantly, before engaging once more in conversation with Masaru.
What was that? Katsuki internally screamed at himself. Did he think that Izuku’s hair was pretty? He glared at Izuku from the corner of his eye, tracing the way his hair fell. Katsuki was in disbelief. Did he really just think that that bird’s nest was pretty? He shook his head violently, that was absurd. It wasn’t even possible. No way he would’ve thought that. Right. Had he been getting enough sleep? He brought his hands up to his face, fingers ghosting under his eyes, where he had begun to imagine were eyebags. That was it. He hadn’t been getting enough sleep and was delusional. Katsuki nodded to himself, yes that was it. Because otherwise there was no way that he would’v-.
A pinch to his arm broke him out of his train of thought, causing to snap his head up from his food, where he had been aimlessly staring. His mother looked at him with eyes that screamed unamused, and slightly concerned. “Who are you nodding to, you schizophrenic freak?”
Katsuki sneered, “I’m not schizophrenic.”
“You sure looked like it when you were nodding at the air.” Mitsuki quipped, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear nonchalantly.
“It doesn’t matter.” Katsuki huffed, making a mental note to be more aware of his physical actions when he was lost in thought.
He didn’t think that Izuku was pretty, no he was useless, and ugly, and couldn’t do anything correct! Katsuki nodded once again, in his head, not physically agreeing with his train of thought. He recalled the past couple of weeks. The arguments, the rough patches, the differences in habits. He thought of returning home after this with a sense of dread, and as he looked at his mother, and idea that he had never even thought of presented itself in his mind. But he couldn’t say it now, not in front of everyone. And so, he waited, keeping his mouth shut and participating in whatever small talk his father felt necessary to engage him in.
Dinner had finished, and finally, Katsuki was free. After depositing his plate in the dishwasher for his parents to deal with later, he damn near skipped out of the cramped dining room. It might’ve been his childhood home, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. Now as he studied the picture frames on the wall, the leather sofas and the soft rugs beneath his feet, he couldn’t help but be overcome with a feeling of repulse towards his parents for practically selling him. The dining room wasn’t any better. His home life hadn’t been great to begin with, and now, despite him being in another house, the thought of who owned it simply made him even more disgusted. But that wasn’t what he was focused on. He had one goal, and one goal only. He made his way to the back door, where his mother was standing isolated, smoking a cigarette. Opening the door, he stepped outside. He shuddered, moving his hands to hug his arms. The chilly October air kissed his bare arms as he regretted his decision to not bring in a jacket in his haste. Mitsuki turned her head back from where she was leaning on the patio railing, previously staring out into the darkness.
“Do you need something?” She said curtly, wasting no time in getting to the point.
Katsuki swatted the moths swirling around him as he moved closer to her, silently cursing the soft light for attracting them. “I wanted to talk to you.”
Mitsuki scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Well obviously, I mean about what.”
“I was just about to tell you,” Katsuki scowled, “It’s about Izuku.”
Mitsuki raised her eyebrow, a silent indication for Katsuki to continue. Internally, he rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t afford to piss her off. Briefly, he contemplated how to say this without it seeming too abrupt, yet had no choice but to finally say it, “I want a divorce.”
Mitsuki froze, turning her head towards Katsuki with her cigarette still in her mouth. Slowly, she pulled it out and breathed a puff of smoke right into his face. “Why?”
Oh, Katsuki thought. She was taking this better than he expected. His assumption of her initial reaction was for her to blow up, immediately denying him without even leaving him enough time for an explanation. While this was good, now he was left speechless, not anticipating that she would actually let him speak. “Uhm,” Katsuki paused, “Because it just isn’t working.”
“What isn’t working?”
“Our marriage. We just don’t go well together, he pisses me off and I piss him off.” Katsuki replied curtly, “He lied to you guys about us being good, in reality our home life is suffocating and we don’t even speak to each other.”
Mitsuki remained silent, waiting for him to finish.
“I can’t do this anymore, Mum,” He sighed, trying desperately to get her to convey an emotion other than blankness on her face in the moment. Sympathy. “I can’t keep dreading going home just because he’s there.” For a second, he allowed her to see the more vulnerable side to him. Behind the layers of anger, the child, her child, who just wanted to be free.
After a moment that seemed to stretch for eternity, she looked away, shaking the ashes off her cigarette before speaking, “No.”
Wait, what? “No?” Katsuki repeated, hoping he’d heard her wrong. “No to what?”
“No to you two getting divorced,” She sighed, speaking before Katsuki could, to avoid herself the trouble. “I’ve told you this before, this marriage is extremely important for our business, and divorce was never an option.”
“So is your business more important than me?”
“We need this deal to work, Stop being so difficult.”
“Me? Difficult?” Katsuki exclaimed, outraged, “You never asked what I wanted, and you just shoved this on me because it’s good for your business!” She wasn’t even thinking of him in this scenario, just her! It had always been about her and her stupid business.
“It’s not just my business Katsuki!” Mitsuki was exasperated, her cigarette forgotten in her hands. “It’s your future! I’ve done all this for you! We didn’t work this hard just so you could throw it away.”
Katsuki huffed, crossing his arms. “I didn’t ask you to, you never cared about what I wanted. To you, I’m just some puppet who’ll do what you say.”
Mitsuki rolled her eyes, throwing her cigarette to the ground before stomping on it a little more aggressively than she had to. “Katsuki, Grow up. Life isn’t always about what you want.”
Leaving her final words to linger in the air, she slammed the door shut behind her. Katsuki looked at her squashed cigarette on the ground, and back towards the door where he could see her back retreating into the hallway. With a sigh, he moved to rest his elbows on the patio railing, sliding his head between them, fingers clutching the back of his hair. His arms were getting wet due to the moisture lingering onto the metal, a result from a recent rain, but he couldn’t care. He was cold, wet, and he could hear his father in the distance calling him to come inside, but it didn’t matter. Nothing did in that moment, as he gripped the back of his hair, fighting back invisible tears.
Katsuki laid in bed that night, his thoughts spiralling away from him as he stared at the ceiling. The soft moonlight illuminated the ceiling fan, giving it a texture he could study as his thoughts escaped from him. As a child, he had always been a puppet. From the moment he was born, he was subjected to his parents will, whether he liked it or not. Over the years he had tried to argue with them. About his choice of clothing. Style. Career.
Yet every aspect of his life was out of his control. He was just a doll, roleplaying in someone else’s fantasy. He had hoped, prayed that when he got older, he could make his own decisions, and finally break free from the cage he was condemned to at birth. Yet once again he was naively mistaken, and his mother made no attempt in trying to console him, instead rubbing it into his face.
With a groan, he sat upright, burying his face into his hands. The clock read 2:47am beside him.
What kind of mother doesn’t care about their child? He caught himself thinking. Over the years, he had observed other people’s families, their mothers. How they would do anything for their children, how they would continuously support them in making their own decisions, and help them fly instead of clipping their wings. A genuine bond that seemed so out of reach for someone like him. Years of pent-up frustration, pent up anger, and for what?
His mind drifted to the stranger he had talked to, in a moment that seemed like it never happened. He was in his first year of high school, and was walking home from school when he had decided to stop by a nearby café. The day before that he had had another argument with his mother and was hesitant about returning home and dealing with her wrath once more. So, he stopped, and leaving his cup of coffee forgotten in front of him, buried his face into his arms. A stranger clad in denim had consoled him that day, and for a while after that he reprimanded himself for being so weak as to receive consolation from a man he didn’t even know. Yet, on this Octobers day almost 5 years after that, he replayed that stranger’s words.
“You could always just run away, you know,” He had said, in a way so nonchalant that it didn’t convey the significance behind what he was saying, “Lots of people succeed in life, even when they run away. Sometimes you need to get rid of dead plants in order to nurture new flowers. Not everything can be healed, and relationships are such an example. But running away is difficult, and if you seek proper help then they can indeed be healed. You just need to do what you feel resonates with you the most, in your heart.” He smiled, gently tapping Katsuki’s chest, where his heart was.
And then he had left, leaving Katsuki to ponder over his words, unknowing of the effect they had had on him. Maybe he should’ve done it, Katsuki thought, lifting his head out of his hands, staring lifelessly ahead of him into the darkness of his room. The ceiling fan whirred overhead. With a final sigh, he pulled himself out of the covers he had tangled himself into, walking outside of his room as silently as he could. He walked down the hallway and stopped outside a room where a certain green haired man was sleeping. Gently, he opened the door, and watched. He watched the way Izuku’s chest rose and fell in gentle motions, and the way the soft moonlight framed his hair, giving him an almost angelic appearance. He probably looked like a monster, just standing there. Yet he couldn’t find it in himself to move. Instead that stranger’s words replayed once again.
“You need to do what you feel resonates with you the most, in your heart.”
Here’s the funny thing: how direly one’s thought can affect one’s actions. That while grieving, you can’t cook without dropping the pan. While angry you can’t write properly. The direct connection between emotion and action is so fascinating.
Toshinori seems to be well aware of this philosophy. He approaches Katsuki one day, as he’s punching a bag, and asks if he’s alright.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Katsuki pants, looking at his mentor as if he’s stupid for asking such an obvious question. He’s clearly fine.
Wordlessly, Toshinori points towards his bleeding knuckles, dripping onto the mat beneath. “You haven’t seemed like yourself lately.”
“I’m fine,” Katsuki huffs, rubbing his bruising knuckles.
To this, Toshinori smiles, the corners of his eyes creasing in an ironic smile. “Ah well, we often disguise our pain.”
Katsuki snorts, what does he know? He’s just a senile old man. Yet deep down, he can’t find it in himself to truly hate the man standing in front of him, after all, he’s helped him through so much.
“Come with me,” Toshinori beckons towards him, leading him towards a bathroom where they gather tissues and soap. Katsuki follows him wordlessly. They walk in companionable silence, and clean the mats of the blood that was previously dripping from Katsuki’s knuckles. They finish, and just as Katsuki is about to leave, Toshinori places a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“You can talk to me anytime.” Toshinori says simply, with the stability of a father reassuring his son. Because in a way that’s what he is, a father figure to Katsuki when his own father was absent.
However, Katsuki snorts and shrugs his hand off, walking out the door with his bag slung over his shoulder. How could anyone understand what he’s going through? The night air caresses his face, the air free from any signs of human pollution. The street light flickers overhead, and his knuckles throb the entire walk home.
When Katsuki gets home, he, unsurprisingly, has another argument with Izuku. This time about how Izuku constantly leaves the lights open, inconsiderate of Katsuki trying to sleep. He calls him selfish, despite knowing that deep down Izuku is busy as well. But why should he give a shit? It’s not as though anyone gave one about him! The anger boils over, too much to handle, so two days later Katsuki sucks up his pride and finds himself standing outside of Toshinori’s door.
Taking a deep breath, he gently raps on the door, half hoping that it is too quiet for Toshinori to hear, so he has an excuse not to speak to him. Unfortunately for him, just as Katsuki is about to celebrate and turn away, the door flings open. Standing on the other side is Toshinori, with a somewhat surprised, yet expecting expression. Internally Katsuki sighs.
“Young Bakugou? This is unexpected.” He says with an amused smile, “Come in.” He opens the door further, allowing Katsuki to step inside.
“I didn’t come for small talk,” Katsuki borderline growls, “I need…” A pause.
Toshinori looks at him with the patience of a saint.
“I don’t know what I need,” He eventually sighs, burying his face in his hands.
“That’s a start.” Toshinori’s voice brings Katsuki some ease, “Sit, and let’s figure it out together.”
The blonde man unceremoniously flops on the chair that Toshinori had sitting opposite his desk for potential clients, while Toshinori takes a seat at his desk chair. He moves the monitor serving as a barrier between them. Katsuki is slightly annoyed, because he feels like he might break down and he doesn’t want the person he considers almost his father seeing such a vulnerable side to him. So, he remains silent, picking at his nails in a manner that is almost demure. How is he supposed to explain something he doesn’t even understand? Katsuki finds himself thinking, to voice the reason that he hates Izuku when out loud it sounds so trivial, yet to him it is has an insurmountable impact?
To label your struggles to the standard of others. To compare your struggles to someone else’s and degrade one of them, either yours or theirs. Because no matter what you go through, there is always someone else in the world who is going through an even greater hardship. Soldiers witnessing their comrades dying in battle. Children starving and living in poverty throughout the world. Mothers unable to see their children after giving birth. The world is a place filled with hardships, and as Katsuki sat across his mentor in a warm, insulated office, he considered his struggles as childish. And yet he couldn’t find it in himself to do anything about it. Perhaps that is what it means to struggle, because no matter how wealthy you are, how poor you are, a broken bone still hurts. It might be a small injury, but you are always unaware of how much it can hurt the person who possesses such an inconvenience. Katsuki thinks this as he struggles to voice his own concerns, afraid that they will be undermined by the only person he trusts, as they have been over and over again. By his father, by his mother.
Everyone around him has always reminded him of his status as a wealthy and privileged individual yet, he can’t find it in himself to be grateful towards a fate he never wished for. To be thankful for a gift that was forced upon an unwilling self. Yet, Toshinori has always been different. Even when he was just a brat, and his mother had continued to tell him how privileged he was to be able to do karate, Toshinori hadn’t been like that. He hadn’t praised his own sport and raised himself on a pedestal in order to get Katsuki to like it, because when he began, he hadn’t liked it. He hated being forced to do anything by his parents and at the beginning, before it had become his blood, his lifeline and his support that what it was, something his parents had merely forced him to do. A pastime to keep their rebellious son busy from tinkering with his metal wings, from realising his humanity and seeking to grow his own feathers.
Toshinori hadn’t had that mindset. Instead, he had simply smiled his characteristic smile, his eyes shadowed like they used to before it was plagued by age, the blue irises barely visible. Patiently, he had made Katsuki love the sport not with praise, but with examples. He had shown 8-year-old Katsuki the fruits of the sport, taken him under his wing and trained him individually, exposed him to an entire new world, a world his parents had thought would be a place to keep his hands busy, yet were unaware that all along he had been experimenting with his own desires the entire time. The decision to continue karate, Katsuki thinks, was the first decision he made on his own. With the help of Toshinori of course. So of course, the now grey old man, despite being insufferable at times, possesses a special place in Katsuki’s heart.
With this in mind, after a couple of minutes of silence, Katsuki finally speaks. He starts from the very beginning, because otherwise how is he supposed to explain his somewhat unusual situation? In the back of his mind, he thanks the older man for the patience he has whilst dealing with him, and by the sparkle in the blue eye in front of him, he thinks that he’s aware of his gratitude. After all, he cares for him better than his own father does.
“I’m married.” Katsuki says, finally.
Toshinori simply nods, “Yes, I heard. Congratulations.”
“Don’t.” Katsuki shakes his head, “It’s not a celebration, it’s a disaster.”
“Tell me what’s troubling you.”
“What isn’t?!” Katsuki exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “My folks arranged this whole thing to boost their stupid business connections. They didn’t ask me- they never ask me. They just expect me to go along with whatever they decide,” Katsuki pauses briefly to catch his breath mid-rant, and is encouraged once more by a reassuring nod of the older man’s head. “And now I’m stuck with him. Some guy I don’t even know. He’s a pain in the ass- can’t cook, can’t keep things in order, just…there! And I’m supposed to call this a marriage?” Finally, he stops, the anger simmering once again, because every mention of the green haired man makes him angry, and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know why the very look at his freckled face makes him so sick to the stomach, despite him being just as trapped.
“You feel trapped.” Toshinori quips, and instantaneously Katsuki wonders if he can read his mind. He probably can, with the way he looks at him as if he’s his own flesh and blood.
“I’m angry, Toshinori-san.” Katsuki admits, allowing his mentor to see a bit of the vulnerability he mistakenly showed to his mother when asking for a divorce. “I’m angry at him and I don’t know why. He hasn’t done anything to make me mad.”
“You feel trapped,” Toshinori repeats again, and before Katsuki can sneer and ask, “Is that all you’re going to say?”, he continues. “As though you can’t do anything about it, and all of those negative emotions are boiling over.”
“Yeah. And it’s not like I can just walk away. I tried telling my mum I want out, but she shut me down. Said if I screw this up, I’ll ruin everything for them. Like it’s my job to keep their precious empire afloat.” Katsuki rolls his eyes at the recollection of that night on the balcony.
Toshinori leans forward, setting his elbows on the table and resting his chin in his palms. “It sounds like you’re carrying the weight of expectations that were never yours to bear.”
“Yeah well, welcome to my life!” Katsuki gestures to himself sarcastically, cracking his neck to the side. “Everything’s always about what they want. What about what I want? What about me?”
“That’s a fair question, but let me ask you this-“ Toshinori pauses, a wry smile on his lips. “Do you know what you want?”
Katsuki scrunches his nose in near disgust, “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve spent so much time fighting against what others expect of you. But when all the noise fades away, what’s left?” He lifts his head, leaning back in his chair. “What does Katsuki Bakugo want from his life, his relationships, his future?”
A beat of silence passes before Katsuki can find it in himself to answer, as Toshinori’s words swim in his head. “I don’t know. I just…I don’t want to feel like this anymore.” He finally decides to say, “Like I’m nothing but a pawn in someone else’s game.”
“Then start there.” Toshinori simply says. “You can’t control what your parents expect of you, but you can control how you respond to it. And this marriage- have you given it a real chance? Or is your resentment toward them bleeding into how you see him?”
“He’s…” Katsuki stutters, because Toshinori might be right. “Not what I expected. He’s weak, annoying.”
“Or maybe he’s just different.” Toshinori offers, a smile playing on his lips. “Strength comes in many forms, Young Bakugou. Sometimes, it’s the quiet resilience to keep going when everything seems against you.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Katsuki is unable to see how this relates to him, or rather, he doesn’t want to admit that he was wrong all along.
“Perhaps more than you realize. He’s in this with you, isn’t it? He didn’t choose this either, yet he’s trying to make it work. Can you say the same?”
Katsuki shuffles uncomfortably, because truly, he can’t say the same. He hasn’t been trying to make this work, actually, he’s been making this harder for Izuku. Yet although he’s aware of his own hypocrisy, he doesn’t know how to change. “I don’t know if I can.” Katsuki voices, “I don’t even know where to start.”
Toshinori smiles, “Start small. A conversation. A meal. A moment where you set aside the anger and just… listen. You might be surprised at what you find.”
“Fine.” Katsuki grumbles, because he realises that he should at least try. “But if this blows up, I’m blaming you.”
Katsuki gets up out of his chair, and walks towards the door. Toshinori follows.
“I’ll take the blame.” Toshinori chuckles, his hand resting on the door. “But I believe in you, Young Bakugou. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find that this marriage isn’t the trap you think it is. It might even become something worth fighting for.”
Over the next week Katsuki doesn’t know what to do. He goes to work and returns home the same man, not speaking a word to Izuku. Internally Katsuki scoffs at Toshinori’s words. Maybe it was because he was vulnerable in the moment that he agreed, but now that he was in the correct headspace he still didn’t have the heart to give up entirely. Something with his conversation with Toshinori had awakened something inside of him, a part of him that was becoming increasingly aware of the hypocrisy he was exercising with Izuku, the more he thinks about it. He’s consumed by guilt and a small desire to make things right, but his cowardice won’t let him. Every time he gets close to speaking to Izuku, trying to utter the words “sorry” out of his mouth, he simply can’t. It takes a while for him to even register Toshinori’s advice to start small, and when he does it feels as though a burden has been lifted from his shoulders. Despite this, he still finds it difficult. It’s as though he’s faced with a wall whenever he sees Izuku.
Izuku looks at him perplexed and Katsuki gets frustrated and storms away, Izuku is left confused. That’s how it goes a couple of times with Katsuki’s attempt to start a simple conversation. Eventually, Katsuki decides starting a conversation isn’t a good idea and contemplates on something else. It takes a while for him to come up with an idea, but once he does, he feels like a genius. A date! Why didn’t he think of it sooner? They could just go somewhere to eat and that’s it! They wouldn’t even have to talk, but they would be spending time with eachother!
So, after some intensive research, he somehow musters up the courage to ask Izuku.
“Deku.” He says and Izuku looks up from where he’s cooking dinner.
“Yes?” Izuku quirks an eyebrow, growing increasingly confused at his husbands attempts at being civil. He likes it, yes, but it’s weird, nonetheless.
“Let’s go on a date tomorrow after work.” Katsuki feels like a genius. He decided on a day that was sudden, as to not give Izuku or him any time to overthink anything. He concludes that if he allows himself the time to think it through, he’ll realise how stupid he is and lose the courage.
Izuku’s face falls into one of absolute shock. His eyes are wide and green. “T-tomorrow? A date?”
Katsuki watches with borderline satisfaction as his ears slowly turn red. Yet he can’t allow himself complete satisfaction as he didn’t accept yet. “Is that a yes?”
“Y-yes, but, why?” Izuku stutters.
“Okay, get ready by 6.” He simply replies, ignoring Izuku’s attempts at getting a reply to his other question as to why Katsuki is doing all this. With a smirk, he settles himself down on his bed, filled with a sense of triumph as he stares at the ceiling. Maybe he isn’t that bad at this after all.
The restaurant Katsuki chose was nothing close to lavish, and probably not one that one would expect for a first date. It was small, cozy and smelled overwhelmingly of sizzling meat and spices, and yet Katsuki loved it. During his school years, he had constantly confided in it, with its cheap prices and tasty food. It probably wasn’t the best place to go to, Katsuki realises after nervously analysing Izuku’s face for any signs of apprehension.
Katsuki shoves the door open, gesturing for Izuku to follow with an impatient jerk of his head.
“Sit wherever.” He mutters, already scanning the menu posted above the counter. Despite being here more times than he can count, he still needs the menu to order. Maybe that was a sign to how distracted he was whenever he came here.
Izuku slides into a booth near the window, grabbing a menu that was sitting on the table. He opens his mouth to say something, but Katsuki cuts him off.
“Everything here’s good, so just-wait.” Katsuki grabs the menu out of his hands, “I’ll order.”
Izuku blinks, startled by the brusqueness. “Oh, okay.” He mumbles, his voice softer than Katsuki remembers.
Why does he look so nervous all the time? Like I’m about to bite his head off. Not that he’s wrong or anything. Katsuki thinks, side-eyeing Izuku as he walks over to the counter to place their order.
When Katsuki returns, he unceremoniously plops a tray of steaming bowls and plates onto the table. His movements are brisk but careful, as though the food is too important to risk spilling. “Eat. It’s spicy so don’t start crying or whatever.”
Izuku looks on with a smile, eyes wide with gratitude. “It smells amazing.” He says, picking up his chopsticks with trembling fingers.
Katsuki is slightly stunned; he’s never been regarded with an expression that seemed so- warm. He’s so stunned, in fact, that he completely disregards the trembling of Izuku’s fingers. Curiosity taking over, he looks at the green haired man with more attention. The way his shiny, curly hair reflects the warm yellow light emanating from the bulbs above. The way his green eyes water slightly at the food, and how they glow after a bite. The way his tongue licks his soft, pink lips in a manner so graceful. His barely noticeable dimples as he smiles. He looks so happy, that Katsuki is overcome with a sense of guilt upon knowing that previously, he was the one who had squandered such a lovely expression. Guilt nips him in the jaw, and suddenly he’s lost his appetite. He sets his chopsticks down, instead focusing on Izuku. He zeroes in on the awkward way that Izuku is holding his chopsticks, the food slipping out.
Without thinking, he grabs Izuku’s hand, adjusting his fingers over the wooden sticks. “You’re holding them wrong,” he says, moving Izuku’s index finger so it sits above his chopstick.
Izuku jumps slightly, surprised at the sudden touch. “S-sorry,” He stammers, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks, “I jammed my finger the other day so I can’t exactly hold them properly.”
Katsuki scoffs, “You should’ve told me, and I would’ve gotten you a spoon instead.”
Is their relationship so bad that Izuku can’t even request such a simple thing? He observes with a frown, and a pit forms in his stomach.
“Sorry,” He stutters once again, and Katsuki internally rolls his eyes. “I didn’t want to trouble you.”
“It wouldn’t be trouble,” He assures him, thinking about what Toshinori would say to him in this moment. How he would reassure him. “I brought you here to have a good time, and it can’t exactly be a good time if you can’t eat, right?” He chuckles softly.
The apprehension slowly drains from Izuku’s face as he laughs softly as well, “I guess so.”
A beat of silence passed over them, as Izuku looks into Katsuki’s eyes, and Katsuki looks into his. With a start, he realises he’s still holding his hand. Shit.
He draws back sheepishly, eyes averted from Izuku’s most likely red face. “I-I’ll get you a spoon.” He declared suddenly, shooting out of his chair without waiting for a response from Izuku.
Watch what you’re doing! He apprehends himself as his hand hovers above the wooden utensils sitting at the counter. He feels so cheesy, like a moment stolen from a K-drama, or a romance novel. Where the hero and heroine fall in love over something as simple as the touch of a hand. Except Katsuki isn’t in love, and Izuku is learning not to be afraid around him. He takes a deep breath, grabbing the spoon and making his way back to their table, where Izuku sits patiently. Calm down, he reminds himself.
Sitting down, he gives Izuku the spoon. “Thanks,” Izuku says with a small, tentative smile. Distantly, Katsuki thinks that he wouldn’t mind seeing it more often.
For a while they eat in silence, both of their eyes flitting up and meeting each other in an occasional awkward moment. Finally, Izuku breaks the tension.
“Do you come here often?” He asks, wincing at how cliché it sounds.
“Not really,” Katsuki mumbles, surprised at how quiet his own voice is, “I used to as a student but not anymore.”
“Oh, so was it close to your school?”
Katsuki scoffs, “Obviously, what kind of question is that?”
Izuku bites his lip, his freckles standing out against his flushed skin, “I guess that makes sense.”
Katsuki pauses mid-bite, a pang of guilt shooting through him. Dammit Katsuki what’s wrong with you? Can’t you just be nice?
“What about hobbies?” Izuku tries again, glancing at Katsuki through his lashes, breaking the tense atmosphere that had settled over them once more.
“Martial arts.” He says abruptly, stabbing a piece of meat and shoving it in his mouth to avoid elaborating. “Used to do a lot of it. I still do.”
Izuku’s face lights up, his eyes sparkling with genuine interest that seems so foreign to Katsuki. “That’s really cool! I’ve always though martial arts were really impressive.”
Katsuki shrugs nonchalantly, a way to disguise the horrible things Izuku’s words were doing on his heart. “Yeah, well, it’s not a big deal.” He mutters, his voice softened ever so slightly.
He’s never gotten recognition for his skills before, and while technically Izuku hadn’t ever seen him in action before, it still felt like he was being acknowledged.
Throughout the rest of their dinner, conversation flows naturally. Izuku’s laugh sounds like sunshine in the rain, his eyes sparkle like diamonds, and more often than not through their conversation, Katsuki finds himself wondering when he’d become a poet. However, poet or not, Katsuki can conclude that conversation with the green haired man is actually fun, and briefly wonders what was ever stopping him from making it in the first place.
Cold air welcomes them as Izuku and Katsuki walks the streets outside the restaurant. The air is crisp and cool, and there isn’t a human in sight. The only sound is the thud of their footsteps against the concrete pavement.
Beside him, Izuku shudders, cool wisps of air leaving his mouth as he exhales in the late autumn air. Although he would never admit it, autumn is Katsuki’s favourite. The crunch of leaves underfoot, the crispness to the air, the smell of damp wood. Everything about it is so revitalising and symbolic, that even someone as gruff as Katsuki can’t help but love it.
The place he’s taking Izuku too is somewhere special to him. Although, there are a lot of places Katsuki holds dear in his heart, this park may be one of the ones he cherishes most. He has many fond memories here. Playing here when he was just a child, unaware of the horrors awaiting him as he aged. Confiding here as a student, aching for some peace and quiet away from his home. Drifting here as an adult, just appreciating it. He glances at Izuku to his right, the way his freckles are stark against his frost-bitten cheeks, his dewy eyes as he stares at the path ahead. It feels like he’s about to bare his heart naked in front of the green haired man. But this is what dates were about wasn’t it? Showing the other person something that was special to you.
After a couple more minutes of walking, they arrive at the park. The soft glow of string lights illuminated the path ahead, and a faint breeze carries the scene of anemones, one of the rare flowers that blooms in autumn. Katsuki shoves his hands into his pockets, and scowls at the ground.
“This place is alright, I guess.” He mumbles, trying to be nonchalant in the case that Izuku doesn’t like it.
Izuku smiles, his green eyes shimmering in the dim light. “It’s really pretty.”
Katsuki glances at him out of the corner of his eye, his chest tightening unexpectedly. Although he simply nods in his direction, he’s extremely relieved he likes it. Like he’s been accepted by him without words. A sudden gust of wind hits his face as he ponders, bringing over a crumpled piece of paper to his feet. With a fleeting glance at Izuku, he bends to pick it up, unravelling it to reveal details for a firework show on New Year’s.
Izuku’s face lights up as he peers over kKatsuki’s shoulder. “We should go!” He beams, the joy in his voice too evident for Katsuki to have the heart to say no.
Katsuki pockets it, continuing to walk forward with Izuku back to his car. There’s a new spring in Izuku’s gait, a freshness that wasn’t there before. His curly hair bounces with each step, looking almost cute. As Katsuki stares at him walking ahead, gawking at everything in sight like a 5-year-old, he’s lost in thought. He feels relieved that this didn’t blow up like he expected, and slight guilt at the recognition that Izuku isn’t nearly as bad as he was making him out to be. A singular thought settles itself in the pit of his brain as he watches Izuku prance around like a child, his cheeks tinged red from the sharpness of the cool air.
Maybe this wasn’t a waste of time after all.
As Christmas approaches, they spend more time together. They cook together, they converse over dinner, they exchange laugher. They do what is normally expected of a married couple. Katsuki slowly begins to open up, and Izuku begins to laugh unrestrained around him. Conversation flows easily, and day by day, Katsuki is becoming more infatuated. He feels like he’s on a drug of green hair and green eyes, where a simple glance is enough to make him fold. Izuku finds the courage to call him, and immediately what Katsuki was doing is forgotten, and he is consumed by the green haired man’s sweet voice.
Sometimes, Katsuki finds himself doing things he doesn’t have an explanation for. They watch a movie, a horror one of Katsuki’s choice one night. They sit on the sofa together, a shared blanket covering their lower halves. It’s a movie about a doll, haunting a family of five.
There are many jump scares, and after one particular one, Izuku whimpers beside him, hugging himself with his hands. Body moving on it’s own, Katsuki reaches out and grabs his hand, squeezing it tight.
“W-what-“ Izuku begins, but the absolute look of reassurance on Katsuki’s face is enough to shut him up.
Instead, he smiles softly, moving closer to Katsuki and resting his head on his shoulder. Katsuki should be annoyed, and yet he finds himself wanting to get even closer to Izuku. The days pass, and the feeling of wanting to get closer and closer to Izuku grows stronger, like a raging fire consuming everything in sight. He doesn’t know what to with this emotion, so one day, at work, he decides to suck up his pride and confide in his friend.
“It’s about Izuku.” He tells Kirishima, explaining how often, he finds himself wanting to get closer and closer to him. How he finds himself doing unexplainable things, like grabbing his hand, and simply staring into pools of emerald green.
“Dude, You’re in love!” Kirishima laughs, and the irony of the situation hits Katsuki. That the last time he spoke to Kirishima about Izuku was to complain about him, and now, all of a sudden, a couple of months later he finds himself in love with him.
Love.
It was such an abstract concept; one he’d never even considered regarding Izuku with. Yet as he thinks back to all of the strange things he finds himself doing in Izuku’s presence, he finds that he can’t deny it. So as the days pass and he watches Izuku, he feels himself sink further into a cavern he created. But he isn’t scared, the darkness is comforting and there’s a pleasant sense of anticipation. And the thought that Izuku is standing at the end of it, the light like a halo on his green curls, almost makes him want to break out into a sprint.
Katsuki had forgotten what fireworks looked like. He’d only seen them once, when he had begged his parents to take time off work and to take him to the New Year’s show. Reluctantly, they had agreed and taken him. Truthfully, it was slightly underwhelming. He couldn’t see how people craved to see them yearlong and fled to the city at the declaration of a New Year’s show. He never went to see the fireworks of his own choice, but he had promise Izuku, and as he watches Izuku with about the same energy as a golden retriever, he praises himself for keeping his promise.
Now he stares up at the sky, clutching Izuku’s hand like a lifeline in awe. Maybe it was the energy radiating off of Izuku, but this time, they looked beautiful. Ribbons of colours stretch across the sky like veins, painting the black backdrop a combination of greens, red, and blues. Somewhere from behind Izuku, a person pushes their way through and shoves him into Katsuki. Without hesitation he catches him, enveloping him in a hug while staring into his eyes. Izuku’s cheeks are tinged pink from either the cold, or embarrassment, whatever it is Katsuki can’t tell. His untameable bed of green curls sat above his head, and Katsuki doesn’t know when he started to like it. When he started to become fond of ruffling it, or simply coursing his hands through it.
As he stares further into emerald irises, he begins to wonder when they started to feel like home. When the annoyance had faded to fondness at the sight of freckles and green hair. The hate to love. Because that’s what he feels for Izuku. Kirishima had been right, he loves him. The fireworks sound like they are being released underwater as Katsuki drowns in green eyes. Soft shades of red, blue, yellows, and of course, green, illuminate Izuku’s face, further brightening his pupils. Suddenly, Katsuki is aware of how close they are truly standing. The warmth between their faces as Izuku looks up into his eyes, their breath warming the few inches from each other’s faces. Katsuki’s gaze flicker to Izuku’s lips. It would be so easy, Katsuki thinks. To lean forward and press his lips onto Izuku’s. To feel the warmth that is caressing his face at a not so platonic distance. He looks back into Izuku’s eyes as a form of permission. Izuku’s eyes flutter closed, and Katsuki closes the distance. He presses his lips against Izuku’s in a chaste kiss. After a moment that seems to stretch for eternity, Katsuki draws back, resting his forehead against Izuku’s.
“I love you.” Katsuki whispers softly, voicing the thing he’s been wanting to this entire thing. A simple phrase that’s able to explain the complexity of the emotions he feels for Izuku. He says it so softly, he is sure it’s been carried away by the wind or drowned out by the background.
Izuku’s eyes widen for a fraction before settling back into that soft expression he has been regarding Katsuki with for the past few minutes. He breaks out into a grin at Katsuki words, eyes creasing with joy. Tears gather at the corner of his eyes as he speaks next, “I love you too, Kacchan.”
Kacchan. The same nickname Katsuki had shot down the very first day they had spent as a married couple. Instead of harbouring the negative memories he thought it would, it instead reminds him of new beginning. A fresh start. As the tears start to gather at the corner of Izuku’s eyes, he doesn’t need to ask to know they were tears of joy. Somehow, he knows. And as he stares further into Izuku’s glittering eyes, reflecting the fireworks booming in the pitch backdrop, Katsuki thinks they can never be more connected than in this moment.