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Katsuki hated his mom.
No, scratch that. He hated his mom, his dad, the fact that both of them just had to be designers, and his mom's obsession with embarrassing him. She had finished, a few minutes ago, forcing him to wear a Christmas sweater she had knitted with hideous green yarn that made Katsuki itchy, embellished with the phrase "I can't feel my face" in white letters, all caps, and underneath that, a beyond stupid design of a half-eaten gingerbread man. Thing.
His mom did that every Christmas, somehow managing to outdo herself each year with an even uglier sweater than the previous one. At least now that he finally had it on, she'd leave him alone.
But no, it seemed like his torment wouldn't end.
"Katsuki! Tell Kirishima to come inside, I've prepared something for him!" His mom yelled from the hallway.
"You go tell him, I don't give a fuck!"
"You little shit, don't be a fucking asshole!"
He growled in annoyance. Damn hag. Now he'd have to go out in the fucking cold, where Kirishima was playing in their backyard with the snow, or whatever.
He opened the door, shivering at the change of temperature. Goddammit.
He spotted Kirishima making snow angels a few feet away, not at all bothered by the cold. He approached, snorting when he saw that the snow angels had a mess of a fucking hair, considering Kirishima's was sticking up in every angle.
"Oi, shitty-hair! Get in."
"Katsuki!" Kirishima got up, careful not to ruin the shape of the newly-made angel, and dusted off himself as best as he could. "How come you're here?"
Katsuki scoffed. "I just told you. Come inside, you're gonna catch a fucking cold, and I ain't gonna take care of you when your nose full of snot."
Kirishima grimaced. "Okay, first of all, gross. Second of all, I'm fine! My jacket's really warm, there's no way I'm gonna get sick!"
"Just come inside. I don't like this stupid fucking cold," Katsuki said, rolling his eyes, then turning around and marching back in. The cold wasn't that bad, to be honest, and he suspected it was because of this stupid sweater, not that he'd ever admit that out loud.
"Fine, fine." He heard Kirishima's footsteps behind him. "By the way, dude, nice sweater."
Katsuki nearly slammed the door to his face.
"Fucking hag made me wear it," he told Kirishima.
"Katsuki, you should talk better about your mother." God, being reprimanded by his boyfriend was really getting on his nerves.
"You sound like my shitty father."
"You should talk better about your father, too."
"Whatever, shitty-hair. And don't mention the stupid sweater again, she makes me wear fugly shit every Christmas."
Kirishima laughed just as his mom entered the living room.
"Kirishima-kun! I'm glad Katsuki told you to come inside so soon!"
Kirishima turned to look at Katsuki, amused, but he just bared his teeth, looking away.
"Do you want my help with something, Mitsuki-san?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No, not at all! I just have something for you, wait here," she ordered, turning around and walking away.
Kirishima gave him an inquisitive glance, but he just shrugged, feeling his own curiosity spark. What the hell was she up to again?
She came back a few moments later, cradling something resembling a thick red cloth in her arms.
"So, Kirishima-kun, this was a bit rushed since I had no idea you were coming over for Christmas until yesterday," she glared at Katsuki, who just rolled his eyes, "but I make one for Katsuki every Christmas, and I thought it'd be cute if you two matched!" She gave him the cloth, which, upon examining it, was actually a sweater, Kirishima realized. "Don't feel like you have to wear it, though!" She said merrily.
"You shitty fucking hag, every year you force me to wear this ugly shit- Oh no, Kirishima, you are not going to wear this fucking bullshit-"
"Thank you so much, Mitsuki-san!" Kirishima said, taking off his jacket and putting the sweater on. Katsuki looked at him, horrified. "You're just as bad as her."
"C'mon dude, it's nice," Kirishima insisted, and Katsuki actually took some time to look at the abomination.
Amazing. It was even uglier than his own this year.
"I'm glad you like it, Kirishima-kun."
"I love it, Mitsuki-san. I'm so happy you even thought about knitting me one, that's very sweet of you!" Kirishima gushed.
Katsuki put his face in his palms and let out a muffled scream, ready to rip every sweater in the near vicinity. Why was his boyfriend so stupid?
"Katsuki, babe, are you okay?" Kirishima laid a hand on his back, but he violently shrugged it away.
"I'm fucking fine," he seethed. Mitsuki clapped her hands.
"Good!" She exclaimed. "Now that that's settled," she narrowed her eyes at Katsuki, and he felt the blood freezing in his veins, "it's time for some family photos."
Oh no.