Chapter Text
Things go on that way, more or less, for some time. Days turn into weeks, and Deku continues to sit at the counter and talk at Katsuki. Or talk with him. Whatever.
One particular Monday, Deku is reserved, almost taciturn. He barely bugs Katsuki at all, despite chatting his ear off the day before. Kirishima even shoots him a worried look from the register.
It’s not as bad as when he broke up with the Half-and-Half guy, more like he’s… jittery, nervous. He compulsively clicks his pen in his hand over and over until Katsuki hollers at him to knock it off.
Deku startles, shrinking into himself at the loud noise. He apologizes and excuses himself, and when Katsuki goes to clear his mug he finds another napkin.
there is no space to breathe here
I pull the muscles in my chest, a subdued panic
I am too large to be anonymous
I am too smallI don’t know if other people feel this way
they must, but I can’t know it
Katsuki almost goes after him. To do what, he has no earthly idea. But he almost does.
The next time Deku comes in, on Thursday, he looks like he’s back to normal. But before he can say anything beyond his order (a completely seasonally-inappropriate iced vanilla latte that only an idiot would order in the dead of Winter), Katsuki shoves his phone directly into Deku’s stupid face.
“For… me?” Deku asks, looking up at Katsuki for confirmation. Katsuki just huffs and impatiently shakes the phone at him. Deku gently takes it from his hand, peering at the new contact page with open curiosity. The name is filled out at the top—”Deku,” obviously—but the rest is blank. “Are you… asking me for my phone number?”
“What does it fuckin’ look like?” Katsuki shoots back with more confidence than he feels, knowing his cheeks are probably already red and vehemently hating himself. “Are you stupid, Deku? Need me to spell it out for you?”
Deku’s eyes go comically wide with awe, cheeks immediately flushing. “Oh, wow, you are. You actually want my phone number. My phone number. Is this real? Amazing, I never thought this would happen,” he mutters at lightning speed, eyes glued to the phone.
Katsuki’s tolerance for the awkwardness of this situation decreases with every mumbled word, and it was already at rock fucking bottom.
“That a fucking problem for you?” Katsuki yells, frustration and embarrassment warring for dominance on his face. Fuck. He’s an idiot. “Just—just give it back then!”
He makes a grab for the phone, suddenly realizing this was the worst idea ever. It’s not like he’s hitting on him or anything. He just wanted Deku’s number in case… in case of an emergency. Or something.
Like the other day, when something was obviously wrong, his mind helpfully supplies, before he viciously shoves that thought back into the deepest recesses of his mind through sheer force of will. Dammit, he’s definitely blushing now.
Deku instinctively jerks his hand back, cradling the phone against his chest like it’s something precious. “Nope! No problem!” He hastens to clarify, eyes bright and sincere. He carefully punches in the numbers while Kasuki stews in his own idiocy and regret.
Deku’s tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth while he’s focusing on the screen, just like it does when he’s writing sometimes. Fuck! Why is that cute?
Before Katsuki can think anything else that makes him want to launch himself into the stratosphere, Deku is handing his phone back to him with a bashful smile. He saves the contact and quickly shoots off a message that simply says “Katsuki,” knowing full well there’s no way his number will be saved under that name.
Deku grabs his own phone when it chimes, smiling down at it with pink cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, sounding ridiculously pleased. Katsuki coughs awkwardly, forcing himself to look away.
“Whatever,” he says, trying for casual and missing by a mile.
Thankfully, Kaminari slides him another order (wisely saying nothing about the exchange that just occurred, though he’s almost vibrating with how much he clearly wants to) and so Katsuki busies himself with work. The rest of the afternoon passes uneventfully, and Deku cheerily wishes him a good night when he leaves.
Once he’s gone, Katsuki lets his head fall directly onto the counter with a loud bang. That was a fucking nightmare. An unmitigated disaster.
“Dude!” Kaminari shrieks directly in his ear, apparently done with restraint for the day. “I always knew you had it in you!”
Katsuki wordlessly screams into the polished wood until Pikachu takes the hint and backs off. Fantastic.
Katsuki sighs, because it’s Friday, and Fridays at Ground Zero never get any less painful. But he dutifully sets up the performance space with Kirishima and then aggressively zones out while people file into and off of the stage.
It’s all just noise to him, until it isn’t. He hears a quiet voice start to speak, and all of a sudden he’s laser-focused on the stage, on green hair so bright under the warm, yellow lights.
“H-hello, my name is Izuku, and I’ll be reading a poem tonight.”
It’s Deku, and he looks like he’s shaking in his chunky red boots. He clutches a single piece of paper in his hands; Katsuki can see it tremble slightly.
Katsuki can’t tear his eyes away. When did he even get here?
He starts to read:
it’s just a graveyard
two feet from my head it’s just
a graveyard
where I stick the memories I am too
sentimental to burn
or leave
or throw awayI am a magpie for memories
shiny bits of postcards and theater
tickets—they don’t mean anything to anyone
and I don’t even know
if they mean anything to me
except that I feel too much
too stronglytwo feet from my head it’s just
a graveyard
of overflow from my head
a nest of ugly wooden boxes
given in good faith by people
who think I enjoy this
instead of being terrified
of forgetting or losingand so I bury my memories with me
two feet from my head it’s just
a graveyard
and when I am tired
the dead speak to me at nightthey say they are alive
and I am dead—they say I will be forgotten
I will be the one left
I will be the one alone in a box
It’s—it’s good. Maybe great. Katsuki can tell, even though hearing it makes him feel uncomfortable, like he’s seeing something private and… sad, or something. Maybe that’s what makes it good, he doesn’t fuckin’ know. Katsuki doesn’t really engage with emotions like that.
He remembers the poem Deku left on the table after he broke up with that Half-and-Half bastard; it was kind of similar, he thinks, something about a box. He wishes he could take this one home with him too, and then immediately sets that wish on fucking fire because what the fuck.
He feels himself clap numbly along with the rest of the audience; Shitty Hair whistles obnoxiously. Blushing, Deku mutters a “thank you” into the mic and exits the stage on wobbly legs.
He comes up to the counter, and for a moment he and Katsuki just stare at each other. Deku looks he has something to say, but he’s still working up the nerve. He places the slightly-crumpled poem on the counter; he smooths its edges absently, nervously.
It’s too bad for him Katsuki isn’t known for his patience.
“Oi, nerd, spit it out already,” he grumbles without any real heat.
Deku starts, turning redder still. It shouldn’t be as attractive on him as it is.
“I, ah, I was just wondering, you know,” he mutters, barely audible, “if you liked it, Kacchan? My poem, I mean?” He sounds hopeful, he sounds like he actually cares about Katsuki’s fucking opinion. All of his snarky bravado from some of their other conversations seems to have evaporated.
Those fathomless green eyes bore into Katsuki, like he’ll be able to tell if he lies.
Katsuki has no idea what to say. Something is happening here that he doesn’t quite understand, and he doesn’t like it. He feels his cheeks go warm, scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck and looks to the side, away from those eyes.
“Yeah, it was… good,” Katsuki grunts finally, with the casualness of someone who hasn’t been stealing and hoarding Deku’s discarded poems for reasons he doesn’t really understand. He realizes suddenly that, as far as Deku knows, this is the first time Katsuki has ever heard one of his poems. Well, strictly speaking, he actually hasn't heard one before. That makes it better... right?
He chances a look back at Deku, and the smile that breaks over his face is breathtaking. His eyes sparkle in a way that should clearly be illegal. Katsuki meets his gaze and suddenly the moment is charged with… something.
“I’m so happy, Kacchan,” Deku breathes, with such sincerity that it briefly steals Katsuki’s breath from his lungs. He opens his mouth to say god knows what—
And then the moment is shattered.
Shitty Hair charges over to clap Deku on the back, beaming. Deku barely flinches and Katsuki has to respect that. He must be more solid than he looks.
“Dude! That was amazing!” Shitty Hair enthuses.
“A-ah, thank you, it was nothing,” Deku demurs with a bashful smile, suddenly shy.
“No, really, that was so manly of you, bro. Mad respect!” Kirishima refuses to let up, probably because, despite being a great behemoth of a man, he’s more puppy than human.
Deku crosses his whole arms over his face in embarrassment and what the fuck is that about, good lord. He looks like a goddamn idiot, but it’s so endearing Katsuki would like to kill a man. What fresh gay disaster hell is this?
“A-anyway, it’s getting late and I should probably get going,” Deku stutters from behind his arms like a complete lunatic before sprinting out of the cafe. “See you later!” He calls just as he speeds through the door.
He’s gone before they can even reply. In his haste, Katsuki realizes Deku’s left the poem behind.
With feigned nonchalance, he picks it up and, just like the times before, folds it carefully and sticks it in his pocket.
The problem is, Kirishima is still standing right there with his stupid, punchable face, positively gleeful. Katsuki can feel himself blushing, which pisses him off something fierce.
“If you say anything—anything—I will rip your eyes right out of your goddamn head, Shitty Hair,” Katsuki growls, “I swear to fucking god I’ll do it, you just fucking try me, asshole.”
Kirishima is completely unphased by the threats, but he does actually stay silent; instead, he offers Katsuki that moronic shark-toothed grin and two enthusiastic thumbs up, literal hearts in his eyes.
Disgusting.