Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was in the way his hair would blaze crimson red under the kiss of the sun . . . in the way he'd hold his hand as though it'd break at the slightest touch—and the name on his lips, his name, grounding him like nothing else. As if he were telling him who he called for was not the empty shell of the father who had raised him to be. Just him. Only him.

Shouto.

A shadow of a smile made its way to his lips as his eyes fluttered open to sunshine, then Eijirou. Or maybe they were one and the same. He reached a hand to his cheek, almost afraid of waking him. Strands of hair that seemed to burn like fire fell over his eyes, and he brushed them away from his face. His every breath felt taken away when he chanced to look at Eijirou. They'd been so, so cheesy, but god all those romance movies were so right. He didn't know what past him was thinking.

Eijirou made a noise between a groan and a hum, shifting to bump their foreheads together.

"Good morning. Did I wake you up?" Shouto said softly, barely a whisper. Eijirou shook his head languidly, eyes still closed and the corners of his lips twitching.

"Good morning," he mumbled, "and happy anniversary, Shouto."

Rain fell in heavy drops, seeming as if it cried with him—or for him. As would have not been unusual, he'd expected to break down right then and there but instead he found himself steady on his feet, looking to the stormy, gray-turned sky.

He'd had an encounter with his father, when it had been many years since they last met—yet the prick still managed to linger in the fringes of his mind every single day—and it rattled him much, much worse than he thought it would.

Perhaps crying would have helped, but he'd squeezed his eyes shut and thought of lone kittens and still not a teardrop fell. Perhaps Endeavor had evaporated those tears away, too, like he had with most everything else. That would be a reasonable conclusion.

The pitter patter of rain drumming against his umbrella filled his ears, and he loosed a breath, watching as it uncurled into little clouds. His fingers trembled, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Then—

Footsteps. Faint, dull, but nevertheless there underneath the deafening rain. He lifted his eyes with great effort and found Kirishima Eijirou before him. They stood there for moments—during which Shouto spent wondering at how he felt warmer albeit him not using his quirk—and then Eijirou took a step, lips pressed together in apparent worry. They moved, and he understood enough to reply.

But then he uttered something he did not mean. They tasted bitter as the words left his throat, like bile he'd made a point to swallow than spit out. Eijirou's expression contracted, and the little warmth he'd had for a brief moment dissolved.

His eyes were fixed to the ground when he felt a hand brush against his, and he let himself be tugged away.

They strode between buildings, past people hurrying for last-minute Christmas preparations, and swerved into a solitary place void of sound, save for the rain. The next Shouto looked up flowers bloomed in the night sky, colors upon colors against the black of the firmament. And there—something rose up in his chest, and he stared and stared and stared; until the flowers melted into the dark and fresh ones bloomed once more.

They were pretty. A smile forming in his lips, he wondered why he failed to see that there were so many things transpiring beyond what he so agonised about.

Then something brushed against the side of his hand, tentatively, and he shifted his eyes to the red-haired boy next to him, who had his hair like so that he couldn't see his expression.

So Shouto took his hand in his.

Eijirou's head shot up, staring at him wide-eyed, and Shouto smiled fondly at him. The tips of Eijirou's ears turned red and he ducked his head down, a faint smile on his lips.

He'd never been so sure of anything in his life.

"Dude, are you planning to let go of me anytime soon? We've gotta get up."

"Mm, just a few more minutes. . ."

A giggle. "You can be such a little kid sometimes."

Sun filtered through the window, and Shouto was unyielding to not start the day right away. Their legs were entangled into a mess and Shouto's arms wrapped around the other, holding him close.

But then Eijirou pushed back from him gently, eliciting an annoyed grunt from Shouto. The mischief dancing in his eyes made him pause.

"So, do you still think "love" is overrated?"

"What makes you think the love we'd discussed was the same thing? Maybe I was talking about our disarrayed society and its love for so-called superheroes, placed in the tallest pedestal of—"

"You hear that? That's the excuse train."

Shouto chuckled low. Eijirou's neck burned. "Well, I think it's the most troublesome thing ever known to humankind. It almost feels like falling and running at the same time. It's impossible to deal with."

Eijirou paused, then asked, "Do you regret it?"

He looked worried, but then Shouto kissed those worries away.

"No, not in the slightest."