Archive of Our Own

 We will call this place our home

The dirt in which our roots may grow

Though the storms will push and pull

We will call this place our home

Their house is a sorry sight. Broken shutters, peeling paint, crumbling foundation. It’s nothing like the home Eijirou had pictured in his dreams, so far from the image of manicured lawns and cherry red paint that he had scribbled on notebook paper at the tender age of seven. But still, it’s their house—his and his boyfriend’s first place together, the next step in their journey—and Eijirou thinks that’s something worth far more than a backyard water park or floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Oi, stop fucking daydreaming and grab the last box, would ya?”

Katsuki’s gruff voice breaks Eijirou from his reverie, and the redhead quickly folds up his dream house drawing, slipping it into the front pocket of his jeans before jogging over to the car. He passes by Katsuki along the way, the blond’s arms laden with a large cardboard box labelled FRAGILE, and Eijirou can’t help but press a quick kiss to his cheek before darting away, leaving his boyfriend to sputter out, “Hey! I coulda dropped this box, idiot!”

"But you didn’t,” Eijirou sing-songs after the blond, snatching up the last box from the trunk of the car and slamming down the lid before making his way into the house.

Katsuki’s already inside, his box laid on the counter of their spacious kitchen—one of the blond’s non-negotiables when looking at houses. Eijirou deposits his box on the counter as well, then stretches his arms above his head in satisfaction. “All done!”

“Not all done,” Katsuki points out, gesturing around at the mess of boxes surrounding the couple. “We still need to unpack.”

“Can’t we unpack tomorrow?”

“The sooner we get it done, the better.”

Eijirou pouts. “But Katsuki—”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Quit fucking whining. It won’t take that long if we get started now.”

Eijirou steps into Katsuki’s personal space, wrapping his arms around the blond’s slender waist. “But Katsuki...”

Katsuki huffs. “What—”

Eijirou cuts him off, pressing his lips against the blond’s again, and again, and again, and then one more time for good measure, this one long and lingering. When they break apart, Eijirou grins. “I love you.”

Katsuki smiles. It’s small—a mere quirk of the lips—but it’s there. “I love you too.”

Eijirou’s grin broadens impossibly and he leans forward again, capturing the blond’s lips in another kiss. Katsuki’s arms come up around Eijirou’s shoulders, one of his hands cradling the redhead’s cheek as they tilt their heads, deepening the kiss. Their lips slide against one another’s with a practiced familiarity, a graceful synchronicity born of trust and love, and Eijirou can’t help but smile into the kiss. He feels so full right now—full of life, full of love—and he can’t help but let it overflow in bubbling laughter.

Katsuki pulls away a centimetre, his shoulders slightly tense. “What?” When Eijirou can’t answer immediately, he asks again, “What?”

“I’m sorry. It’s nothing. I just—“ Eijirou manages to stutter out between laughs. “I’m just so happy right now.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, but his shoulders relax. Eijirou carries on, “I mean—Katsuki, we bought a house. This is our house.”

“I know.”

Eijirou rambles on, pressing his forehead against the blond’s. “We have a house together. We live together now. This is happening, this is real life. We’re here, we’re together, we bought a house—”

“Eijirou—”

“I’m just so fucking happy. I can’t believe—I mean, I just—”

“Eijirou.”

Eijirou finally stops, gazing into Katsuki’s deep red eyes. “Hmm?”

Katsuki huffs out a laugh. “Just shut up and kiss me already.”

Eijirou happily obliges, lips pressed together again, bodies pulled impossibly closer until neither can tell where one ends and the other begins. And in that moment, so enveloped by warmth and love, the rest of the world seems to fade away, their worries—past, present, and future—fading with it, and Eijirou couldn’t be more satisfied.

They could always unpack tomorrow.

*****

“Alright, so our current To-Do list is: repaint the kitchen and living room walls a colour that isn’t vomit-inducing, replace the stove with something built in this century, update the plumbing in the ensuite, figure out what we’re going to do with the spare room, and landscaping—written in all capitals and underlined twice, as per your directions,” Eijirou lists off before glancing up from the notepad at Katsuki, who’s currently perched on the island countertop. “Did I miss anything?”

The blond shrugs. “Nah, but I’m sure we’ll add more to the list soon enough.”

Eijirou hums in agreement, running over the list once more before tapping his pen against the paper. “Right, the painting should be the easiest task to crush first, so let’s start there!”

After a surprisingly quick trip to the paint store for supplies, the two are ready to begin their painting project. Drop cloths spread out, edges taped, and rollers loaded, they set off on the first coat of primer. Music plays from Katsuki’s small Bluetooth speaker, and Eijirou finds himself using his roller as a microphone as he sings along, distracted from the task by the melody flowing through him. Katsuki grumbles at him to get back to work, but Eijirou can see the amused gleam in his eyes, and knows the blond is fighting to hold back a smile. But that just won’t do, and Eijirou amps up the drama in his performance, determined to coax a smile out of the blond—especially when their song comes on.

Eijirou belts the lyrics out at the top of his lungs, getting up in Katsuki’s personal space as he tries to get the blond to sing along. Katsuki shakes his head, trying his damnedest to focus on the task at hand, but Eijirou’s enthusiasm is too infectious, and soon the blond finds himself joining in, both boys singing into Eijirou’s roller.

Soon, Eijirou gets an idea, and with a devious smirk, he swipes his roller at Katsuki, spotting paint on the blond’s cheek. Katsuki pauses, eyes and mouth wide as he splutters in indignation, and before Eijirou can react, Katsuki launches his own attack, leaving a large splatter of paint across the redhead’s forehead.

One paint war later, the boys are covered in more paint than the walls are. As they sit on the floor of the room trying to catch their breath, Eijirou strokes Katsuki’s paint-stained cheek. “Are you feeling alright, Kat? Your face looks awfully pale.”

Katsuki swats his hand away. “And your hair looks even shittier than usual.”

Eijirou laughs. “Aw, but you love my shitty hair!”

Katsuki doesn’t confirm nor deny this statement, instead jumping to his feet. “C’mon, we gotta get back to work. We should have the first coat done by tonight, and we’ve barely even started on the priming.” He glances around the room, a plan formulating in his mind. “I’ll carry on in this area while you get started over by that opening, then we can meet in the middle.”

Eijirou grumbles but does as he’s told.

As he sets up next to the opening, Eijirou notices something on the wall. “Kat, come check this out!”

The blond huffs and drops his roller in the tray before heading over to Eijirou. “This better be good.”

Eijirou gestures to the inside edge of the opening, where several lines, numbers, and names are printed in black ink on the paint. The redhead gently strokes his fingertips down the wall, eyes wide and smile soft in simple wonderment. “Look at this! You can see how the family grew through the years. Isn’t that cool?”

Katsuki hums in thought, eyeing up the wall. “’S cute. Now cover it up.”

“What?” Eijirou’s head whips towards the blond. “Kat, you can’t just cover it up! This is someone’s life story! Their memories!”

The blond squints. “So? I don’t care about someone else’s life story. I only care about our story.”

“Oh my god, that’s so cheesy and romantic!” Eijirou laughs, and a faint blush paints Katsuki’s cheeks as he looks away. “But we’re still not painting over this wall.”

“Well, we can’t just leave it.”

Eijirou juts out his bottom lip. “I mean, we could...”

And fuck, there’s those eyes, wide and shining and sending Katsuki’s heart fluttering in his chest. “No. Stop that! We are not leaving it—”

“But Kat...” Eijirou’s lip trembles, and Katsuki feels his resolve crumble.

The blonde sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, fine. We’ll leave it. Just—” he gestures at a section of the wall— “We’ll leave this part with the original colour. It’ll be the ugliest fucking accent wall ever.”

Eijirou’s face brightens, his lips split in a wide grin. “You know what this means, right?”

“I have the worst boyfriend ever?” Katsuki supplies, but Eijirou either ignores or doesn’t hear him, leaving to rummage around in one of the drawers in the kitchen. He returns with a black permanent marker.

Eijirou hands the marker to Katsuki before standing himself against the wall. “Here! Mark my height first!”

Katsuki snorts. “Flatten your shitty hair, and then I’ll mark it.”

“One with hair, one without?” Eijirou offers as a compromise, and Katsuki just shrugs.

So they take turns marking their heights on the wall, the bold new lines of fresh ink bringing new life to the faded lines from previous years. They take a moment to admire their handiwork, a small smile gracing the redhead’s lips. “It’s kinda poetic, don’t you think?” he whispers, as though his words could ruin the reverent silence of the moment. “Seeing how the past and present intertwine, or how our lives are all connected by space and time, like we’re all part of something bigger, some epic story.”

Katsuki can’t see it. “’S just a bunch of lines.”

Eijirou chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Lines that tell a story.”

“The story of how much taller you are than me?” Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Don’t need a wall to tell me that.”

Eijirou elbows the blond playfully. “You got that right.”

“Fuck off.” Katsuki shoves him back. “Now get back to work! We’re behind enough as is!”

Eijirou laughs and mockingly salutes the blond. “Yes sir!”

As the redhead sets back to task, Katsuki lingers a moment longer, eyes scanning the markings one last time.

Lines that tell a story.

He scoffs and gets back to work.

*****

Eijirou warily eyes his boyfriend. “Are you sure you don’t want to call a professional?”

Katsuki glares at the redhead. “Yes, Eijirou, I’m sure I don’t want to call a fucking professional,” he spits back. “We’re just replacing a bathtub. How hard could it be?”

Eijirou sighs from where he’s perched on the bathroom counter. “If you say so. Just don’t wreck the floor tiles!”

 The blond rolls his eyes, crouching before the bathtub. “Don’t know why you like the tile so much. They’re dated as fuck.”

“Just trying to maintain the house’s original character!” Eijirou shrugs, idly swinging his legs.

“Well, the tiles are still ugly.”

“Then they match the ugly accent wall in the living room,” Eijirou points out. “Problem solved!”

Katsuki continues to glare at the tub. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

Eijirou just grunts noncommittally. “Y’know babe, if you’re trying to blow that thing up with your mind, it’s not working.”

Katsuki whips his head around to glare at his boyfriend. “I’m not, I’m just thinking. So fuck off.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing, do you?” the redhead asks, picking at his nails.

“Of course I know what I’m doing!” Katsuki turns his attention back to the bathtub. “I just have to...remove the spout and shit first. Yeah.”

He attempts to do just that, but the hardware’s rusted and he can’t get them to budge. But he’s not about to ask Eijirou for help—god no—so he sets about with a new tactic. He grabs a crowbar from their borrowed toolkit. “I’ll just tear the whole thing out together. S’not like we were gonna keep the old spout anyways.”

“Just be careful—”

“I will, shut up!”

Katsuki wedges the crowbar between the tub and the wall, breaking through the caulking and chipping some of the drywall. Whatever, probably needed to replace it anyway. He starts to pry the tub away, and at first it comes smoothly. Katsuki grins in triumph as the tub comes loose, more caulking pulling away and bringing bits of paint and drywall with it. Soon, only the area by the spout and knobs remains attached. Katsuki sets the crowbar aside. If I just grab the tub and yank it really hard...

Eijirou seems to read his mind. “Wait Kat, I don’t think—”

But it’s too late. Katsuki grabs the edge of the tub and gives it a mighty pull. With a groan, the tub pulls free of the wall, taking the hardware with it—as well as a solid chunk of drywall and some old pipes. Katsuki swears and jumps back as water comes spraying from the busted pipes, soaking his clothes and splashing onto the tiles.

“Katsuki—”

“Just call the damn plumber.”

“Already dialling, babe.”

As they wait for the plumber to arrive, Katsuki tries to stop the worst of the water flow while Eijirou works to protect the tiles, soaking up the puddles with large bath towels. Eijirou hums. “You know, in hindsight, we probably should have shut the water off before tearing out the tub.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you say anything before we started then?”

“You were the one who claimed to know what he was doing!”

“Well obviously I fucking didn’t!”

“Then why did you—”

“Just stop, okay?” Katsuki takes a deep breath, trying his best to control his rising anger. “Just—let’s not get into this right now.”

A tense silence settles over the two, broken only by the uneven drip of water from the broken pipe. The rhythm grates on Katsuki’s nerves.

Eijirou speaks up again. “Hey, what’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“That. In the wall.” Eijirou gestures towards the hole.

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “I don’t know, but I’m a little busy here, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Eijirou huffs, abandoning the towels to reach around Katsuki and into the hole in the wall, withdrawing his hand a moment later carrying a short cylindrical tube that Katsuki had thought was a pipe. The redhead examines the tube. “I think I can open it!” He twists off a cap that Katsuki hadn’t noticed and pulls a rolled up sheet up paper from the tube. He sets the tube aside and unrolls the paper.

“Well?” Katsuki asks impatiently.

Eijirou’s eyes widen. “It looks like some sort of treasure map!”

“Who the fuck hides a shitty treasure map behind the bathtub?”

Eijirou returns the map to the tube for safe keeping. “Well, pirates usually make treasure maps, and they travel around on pirate ships—which are essentially just really big boats—and if you think about it, a tub is kind of like a reverse boat...”

Katsuki stares at the redhead. “I have no fucking idea how your brain works.”

Just then, the doorbell rings. “Fucking finally,” the blond grumbles.

In the end, the plumber manages to fix the pipes, but in the process discovers that many of the water lines aren’t up to current codes, and uncovers nasty water damage in the floor. Humbled by his experience, Katsuki decides to hire professionals to complete the necessary repairs despite the strain on their budget, and Eijirou almost cries when the workers tear up the floor.

"My tiles..."           

Katsuki just smirks. “Good riddance.”

*****

The walls creak and groan against the force of the wind, glass windows rattling in their panes. It’s a haunting melody that permeates the little fixer-upper, accented with bright flashes of lightning and violent cracks of thunder. Even the patter of rain against the roof brings more strain than solace, and Eijirou rolls over in bed for the millionth time, pillow squished tightly against his ears to dampen the cacophony enough for sleep to claim him.

His eyelids grow heavy, drooping under the weight of gravity, and he thinks finally, finally, he’ll drift away to the land of dreams.

Crack!

The walls shake at the force of the thunder roaring overhead, jolting Eijirou from sleep once again. The redhead groans and rolls onto his back, abandoning his pillow and all hope for sleep. He looks at the pile of blankets next to him. “Hey. Hey Kat, are you awake?”

A muffled “No” sounds from the blankets, and Eijirou laughs, rolling over to wrap an arm around the lump. Katsuki’s blond head pokes out from the top of the blankets, fixing the redhead with a glare that carries no real heat. “Fuck off. ‘S too hot for cuddles.”

Eijirou tightens his grip. “Well maybe if you weren’t using every single blanket in the house, you wouldn’t be so hot.”

“Die.” Katsuki shoves his palm in Eijirou’s face in a half-hearted attempt to shove the redhead off. Eijirou just laughs and snuggles further against the blond.

“Katsuki, I can’t sleep.”

“Not my problem.”

“Katsuki, come watch the storm with me.”

“The fuck would I do that?”

“’Cause you love me.”

There’s no answer, and for a moment Eijirou thinks Katsuki’s fallen asleep. The redhead lifts his head from where it rests against the blond. “Kat?”

The pile of blankets shifts as Katsuki rises to a sitting position. He rubs at his eyes. “Let’s go watch this stupid fucking storm then.”

After deeming it safe to do so, the two slide open the garage door to get a better view of the storm. They drag chairs from the dining room to the garage and set them up at the edge of the space, sheltered enough to avoid the howling winds and pelting rain. Katsuki’s still wrapped up in their comforter, dragging it behind him as he settles onto one of the chairs. Eijirou pulls his chair flush against Katsuki’s, and after some convincing manages to get the blond to share the blanket with him.

And it’s nice, sitting there in silence, watching the storm roll by overhead. It doesn’t seem as violent anymore, not with Katsuki by his side, face softened by sleepiness, mesmerized by the falling drops. Eijirou rests his head against the blond’s shoulder, sighing in contentment and filled with a sureness that, no matter what storms may befall them in the future, they’d weather them side by side. They’d be just fine.

And if Eijirou just so happened to watch Katsuki more than the storm that night, well, that’s just fine too.

*****

Katsuki’s already home when Eijirou gets back. He’s sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by papers, chin resting in his palm as he jots something down into a notepad. Eijirou presses a quick kiss to the top of his head. “Hey, did they let you off early? You’re usually home after to me.”

Katsuki mumbles something that Eijirou doesn’t catch. The redhead lets his bag fall to the floor as he opens up the fridge, grabbing the milk carton. “What was that?”

“I said I got fucking fired,” Katsuki hisses, and Eijirou almost drops the milk.

He sets it safely on the counter before whirling towards the blond. “What? How did—why—”

“Don’t stand there with the fridge open,” Katsuki scolds. “And you better not be planning on drinking that straight from the jug. Shit’s nasty.”

Eijirou rolls his eyes, kicking the fridge door shut. “Kat, I’ve practically had my entire tongue down your throat, yet drinking straight from the milk jug is where you draw the line?”

Katsuki drags his hands down his face. “Oh my god don’t fucking say it like that.”

“And don’t change the subject!” Eijirou pours the milk into a glass. “What happened? Why would they fire you?”

“Said I had a bad attitude or something. I don’t know. All I heard was b.s.”

“Katsuki—”

The blond cuts him off. “Don’t give me that fucking look. And don’t you dare fucking say I told you so!” Katsuki runs a hand through his already mussed locks. “’S fucking stupid. I wouldn’t have such a bad attitude if I weren’t surrounded by so many incompetent extras!”

“Hey now,” Eijirou says, joining him at the table. He reaches out and tugs the blond’s hand free of his hair, intertwining their fingers instead. “It’s okay. These types of things happen all the time. It’s not a big deal.”

Katsuki doesn’t look him in the eye, but he doesn’t pull his hand away either. “It is a big deal, though. It’s me. I’m not supposed to—”

“Hey,” Eijirou says more forcefully this time, and Katsuki drags his eyes up to meet the redhead’s gaze. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay.” He squeezes Katsuki’s hand, rubbing his thumb soothingly down its side. “Right?”

Katsuki closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Yeah,” He breathes out, opening his eyes and meeting Eijirou’s again. “Yeah, we’re okay.”

Eijirou grins. “Good.” He nods his head towards the papers. “Now what’s all this.”

“Bills and shit.” Katsuki withdraws his hand to begin gathering up the loose sheets. “Been trying to figure out the numbers, see where we’ll end up by the end of the month.”

“And?”

“It’ll be tight. We’ll have to put renovations on hold for the time being, but we’ll survive otherwise.” Katsuki sticks all the papers into a folder. “Would’ve been better off if we had went with that cheaper apartment—”

“Nope, don’t go there.” Eijirou takes a big swig of milk. “We knew things were gonna be a bit of stretch when we first bought this place, but we were up to the challenge, right? Because we saw something special in this place that that shitty little apartment didn’t have. We saw home here. And I’m not about to go back on our vision just because of a minor setback. We got this, yeah?”

Katsuki shakes his head, but there’s a small smile playing at his lips. “Such a fucking sap.”

“But I make a good point!”

“Whatever.”

Katsuki rises from his chair, but Eijirou grabs him by the wrist before he can leave. The redhead pulls him in close, craning his neck up to capture Katsuki’s lips in a quick kiss. “I love you,” he says when they break apart, foreheads still touching. “And I know things seem bad right now, but trust me: we’re going to be fine.”

Katsuki closes his eyes, releasing a slow breath through his nose. “I know,” he says. “I know.”

*****

“C’mon, Kat! We gotta get going!” Eijirou calls, opening the driver’s side door of their little car. “I know how much you hate our monthly brunches with your parents, but it’s tradition! We can’t just stand them up!”

When there’s no snarky reply, Eijirou glances back at the house. “Katsuki?”

The blond’s standing by the front door, seemingly zoned out as he stares at the siding. There’s a small frown on his face, and even from a distance, Eijirou can see the tension in his shoulders. Eijirou’s own shoulders slump. He approaches the blond. “Hey.” He reaches out and grabs Katsuki’s hand, stroking his thumb over his boyfriend’s knuckles.

The contact seems to break Katsuki from his stupor, and his eyes flick up to the redhead briefly before going back to the siding, fixating on the flecks of dirt stains and peeling paint. “Hey.”

Eijirou follows his gaze. He sighs and squeezes the blond’s hand. “We can repaint it.”

“We don’t have the money,” Katsuki points out, his voice low and subdued.

“But someday we will,” Eijirou insists. “Trust me.” He tugs on the blond’s hand. “Now c’mon. We don’t want to be late.”

Katsuki grumbles but allows Eijirou to pull him to the car. They climb in and set off, and the blond is silent for most of the ride, staring out the passenger side window. Eijirou’s used to his silence, but he knows there’s something more to it now. The past month or so had been hard on the blond—on both of them, really, but Eijirou wasn’t about to complain. So far, the job hunt had been fruitless, and the redhead knows that stream of wordless rejections are starting to get to Katsuki. Each day seems to bring him closer to some sort of breaking point, and Eijirou knows he has to hold himself together for both of their sakes, no matter how difficult it is for the redhead. The extra shifts he had picked up, the shoestring budget they had to work with, the way he weathered the worst of Katsuki’s tantrums…it was all starting to wear on Eijirou. But he couldn’t let the cracks in his armour show. He couldn’t break, not when he had promised to be unbreakable.

But still, that didn’t mean Eijirou was just going to let himself be walked all over. Especially not now, when things were becoming increasingly more dire. They couldn’t carry on like this, and sooner or later Katsuki was going to have to figure it out.

Brunch is relatively uneventful, with most of the conversation consisting of Katsuki and Mitsuki arguing back and forth over everything while Eijirou and Masaru worked on damage control, apologizing to flustered wait staff and management, as well as a few patrons. Overall, it was a regular brunch with the Bakugous.

Eijirou pulls the car into the driveway, killing the engine. He glances over at Katsuki, who’s glaring at the siding again. Eijirou sighs. “Call Midoriya.”

Katsuki turns his glare on Eijirou. “I am not calling—”

Eijirou cuts him off. “Maybe he can ask Mr. Toshinori about—”

“There’s no fucking way I’d—”

“And why not?” Eijirou already knows the answer. They’ve had this conversation before.

Katsuki runs his hand through his hair. “I’m not about to stoop so low as to ask that fucking spoiled nerd for help!”

“And why would that be stooping?”

“Because he’s nothing!” Katsuki shouts, punctuating his sentence by slamming his fists onto the dash. “Because he’s had everything fucking handed to him while the rest of us have to work our asses off! And I can’t—” He takes a deep breath, maybe to calm his anger, maybe to stifle his words. “I just can’t,” he finishes, his voice quiet.

Eijirou stares at the steering wheel. “Then what can you do?”

“I’m working on it, okay?” Katsuki hisses. “Look, it’s not my fault that the fucking economy is in shambles and that the job market is shit right now, so just back off! Let me handle this.”

“But Katsuki—”

The blond ignores him, pushing open the car door. “No. Fuck off.”

“Wait—”

But Katsuki’s already gone, door slamming shut behind him. Eijirou growls in frustration, thumping his head against the steering wheel and squeezing his eyes shut. It’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.

But even Eijirou has his doubts.

*****

“And then the guy just carries on as though nothing happened! It was ridiculous!” Eijirou is saying, animatedly gesturing as he retells the story. He and Katsuki sit at the kitchen table, enjoying a late meal together. Katsuki’s got a small smile on his face, listening to Eijirou as he recounts tales from his day at work. “And that’s not even the craziest thing! So like right before I go to leave—”

He’s cut off when the lights flicker once, twice, and then finally go out, casting the room in darkness. “Weird. The weather’s been fine all week.”

“Might be a planned outage or something,” Katsuki says, pulling out his phone and opening the internet app.

Eijirou gets his phone out too. “I wonder if the neighbours have power. I’m gonna call June and check.”

But the neighbours have power. And there haven’t been any outages reported. Eijirou shrugs. “Maybe we tripped a fuse?”

A quick trip to the fuse box disproves his theory.

Eijirou sits quietly at the kitchen table, phone flashlight dimly illuminating the room. He shoves the remnants of his meal around his plate with his fork while Katsuki calls the electrical company.

“It went out like ten minutes ago…No, we already checked that…Of course we paid our fucking bills.” There’s a long pause, and Katsuki’s frown deepens. “No. There’s no fucking way. We paid them. Your company took our money.”

Another pause, and Eijirou can practically see Katsuki trying to keep himself calm. The redhead drops his fork on his plate, deciding he’s really not hungry anymore. Katsuki takes a deep breath. “Well, shouldn’t you have sent a notice out or something?...No, we obviously did not get one, that’s why I’m fucking talking to you!”

So their power was disconnected. They’ve been fighting for so long just to keep their heads above water, and their power’s been disconnected. Eijirou drags his palms down his face, leaning his elbows on the table. He feels a familiar heat pricking at the backs of his eyes. No. Keep it together, Ei. You’ve gotta keep it together.

“Look, I don’t give a fuck. Just turn it back on for now and I’ll sort it all out tomorrow…Well if you can turn it off, you can sure as hell turn it back on!...No, no you listen to me…Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t—” Katsuki stops abruptly, tearing his phone from his ear to glare at the black screen. “He hung up. That fucking fuck!”

Eijirou doesn’t realize he’s moved until he’s already gone, pushing past a bewildered Katsuki and down the hallway into their bedroom. He hears footsteps follow, but he ignores them, grabbing his duffle bag from the floor of the closet and filling it with clothes, not really caring what exactly he packs.

“Ei, what are you—”

Eijirou pushes past the blond again on the way to the bathroom, effectively cutting him off. The redhead uses his phone flashlight to find his toiletries, dumping them unceremoniously into the bag and hoping that nothing spills. He zips the bag up and tosses the strap over his shoulder, turning to leave the bathroom. Katsuki blocks the doorway. “Eijirou, seriously—”

Eijirou shoulders past him easily, making for the door. He slips into his shoes and grabs a random jacket, then takes the car keys from their hook and heads towards the side door, the one leading into the garage. Katsuki follows him the whole way. “Just wait.” He grabs the redhead by the arm.

 Eijirou ignores Katsuki’s grip, fiddling with the door. It’s stuck again—it always sticks. Just another damn thing in this damn house that doesn’t work. Frustrated, Eijirou shoulder checks the door hard, breaking himself free of Katsuki’s grasp and sending the door flying against the back wall with a resounding Slam! Eijirou takes advantage of the blond’s temporary shock, heading into the garage and opening the passenger door to shove his duffel into the car.

“Jesus Christ, would you just stop and talk to me?”

And something in Eijirou finally snaps. He whirls on the blond. “I have talked to you. I’ve been talking to you about this for months now! The problem is you never listen!” Eijirou runs a hand through his hair, eyes fixed anywhere but on Katsuki. “Look, Katsuki. I’m sorry. I tried to make this work—I picked up all those extra shifts, dug into my savings, put all those renos on hold—but you haven’t done a damn thing! And I tried to help you too, but you wouldn’t let me! And now I just—”

His voice breaks, and he feels hot tears roll down his cheeks. He takes a deep breath. “I’m so tired, Kat. So tired from all the work and the stress and I just…I can’t do this anymore. I can’t hold everything together. I wish I could, but I can’t. I can’t be who you need right now, and I’m sorry, but I can’t keep sacrificing my own well-being for you. It’s not fair to me. It’s your turn to fix this mess. I just can’t anymore. I don’t want to do this, but—” Eijirou finally meets the blond’s gaze. “I just can’t be here right now. I can’t be around you right now.”

And dammit, Eijirou never should have looked, never should have met those crimson eyes. It was only going to make things so much harder for him, seeing that gaze brimming with tears, seeing that face painted not with anger but with confusion. With hurt. It drains the rage from his body, leaving the redhead with only an aching emptiness. Eijirou knows he should, but he can’t bring himself to look away.

Thankfully, Katsuki breaks first, turning his head to the side. Eijirou can see the tension in the set of his jaw, can see the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. The blond nods, just a brief tilt of the head. “Okay.” His voice is barely above a whisper, and he swallows again. “I—okay.”

Eijirou feels his shoulders slump. Fuck, why did this have to be so hard? Why did it have to feel like his entire heart was tearing apart? Why couldn’t he just be mad at the blond? Why did he have to care so damn much? He’s got the car door open, got one foot inside, and though he doesn’t want to go, he knows he can’t stay, but he still can’t get his body to move, to go. Not when he sees the first tear slide down Katsuki’s cheek. Not when he sees his entire world begin to fall apart.

So he stops. “Katsuki—”

And those eyes are on him once again, burning with a newfound rage that startles Eijirou. The tears still flow but do little to dampen the flame smouldering in his gaze as Katsuki snarls at him, “Go! Just—just fucking go already! Get out of here!”

Eijirou’s in the car before he has the chance to think, jamming the keys in the ignition and tearing out of the garage, almost clipping the door as it makes its leisurely ascent. Then he’s ripping down the street, engine revving as he pins it, headlights streaking through the night sky. And even as he drives further and further from that shitty little house, he can still feel the heat of those red eyes burning into his soul.

Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

He looks back, but he only finds black.

*****

He gets the mess with the power company sorted out easily enough. Turns out, someone had just filed some paperwork improperly, and within a few minutes the issue was resolved. Now, if only they had figured out their little fuckup a day or two earlier, things would be just fine now. But they’re not. And Katsuki knows he can’t really blame the power company for something that’s all his fault.

He presses the bottle to his lips again, but only drops come out. The blond huffs in annoyance, setting the empty bottle on the ground next to the other empties. He’s all out now. It’s probably for the best, anyways; he doesn’t need to add an addiction to his ever-growing list of problems.

He’s not sure how long it’s been since Eijirou left. It’s probably only been a day or two, but it feels like a lifetime, the way the hours painfully drag on and on. And Katsuki can’t really bring himself to do anything about it. Not yet, at least. He’s still too busy trying to deal with the mess of emotions swimming around in his head, replaying every moment, every sentence, every word of their fight, trying to make some sense of the situation. But he just doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand how things fell apart so quickly. Had he really not been listening to Eijirou all this time?

So he goes back further, back to repeat conversations in the car, back to peeling paint and busted pipes, back to milk jugs and job loss and shitty fucking lines on the wall.

He’s stuck on the lines.

He keeps staring at them, studying them, trying to see the value in a few black lines but he can’t figure it out. So he reads between the lines, searching for a meaning he fears he’ll never find because in the end there’s only shitty paint and black lines. He can’t see the poetry, the beauty, the irreverent thing that caught Eijirou’s eye. He can’t see it. And he can’t help but wonder if that’s the reason it all fell apart, if that’s why Eijirou left. Why he’s all alone right now.

Or maybe he’s just reading too far into it.

But still he stays there, slouched on the floor, back against the opposite wall, eyes fixed on the lines. Lines that tell a story, Eijirou had said. Well, Katsuki’s not sure he wants to read this story through to the end.

But he can’t look away, can’t help but stare and stare and stare until he swears the lines are mocking him, the space between them that same insurmountable space between himself and the redhead, two points on a map with too many miles in between. There’s too much space, too much distance, and Katsuki can’t take it anymore, can’t take the reminder that he fucked up, that this mess is his fault, that he’s the reason Eijirou left. Not some power company, not some repeat conversations in the car, or peeling paint and busted pipes, not milk jugs and job loss and shitty fucking lines on the wall. It’s him. It’s always been him.

He’s got to get rid of those lines.

So he rips through the closet, searching for the leftover paint and a brush. He finds them on the top shelf, cursing Eijirou and his height as he tries to reach the supplies. He finally gets them and pulls them off the shelf, knocking down a few other items in the process. Katsuki swears as a book falls on his foot, the sharp corner digging in first, and he tosses aside the paint can to attend to the offending item, ready to rip it to shreds. But he’s stopped dead in his tracks by bright red eyes and a sharp-toothed smile.

Katsuki collapses to the floor, carefully retrieving the photo album and inspecting it for damage. It’s coated in a thick layer of dust, and the corner that struck his foot is slightly dented, but otherwise the album is fine. Relieved, Katsuki scoots himself back so that he can lean against the bed, and opens the album up on his lap, slowing flipping through the pages.

He remembers when Eijirou gave him this album. It was a graduation gift, a testament to their budding relationship as they grew from strangers, to unwitting acquaintances, to friends, and finally to lovers. He takes his time, reliving the memories, working his way through the years as captured in these simple photographs. And the more he flips, the more recent the pictures become, showing him and Eijirou as they ventured into actual adulthood, not just the test run of university.

Soon, he finds himself staring at the final image—a picture of him and the redhead standing in front of a shitty fixer-upper, a sold sticker placed over the sale sign, dopey grins painted across their faces. It was taken the day they finally purchased the house, the day they perhaps made the biggest decision of their young lives together (so far at least, Katsuki hopes). He can’t help the small smile that graces his lips as he gazes upon the image, his fingers gently caressing the page.

Clipped to the top of the page is a worn piece of paper, and the blond unfolds it to find a crayon drawing of a bright red house. Eijirou’s Dream Home.

And finally, finally, Katsuki thinks he understands.

*****

He almost doesn’t recognize the place when he pulls the car into the drive. The old peeling paint has been sanded away, a bright cherry red taking its place and bringing new life to the worn siding. Eijirou feels tears prick the backs of his eyes as he climbs out of the car. The red really is an obnoxious colour, now that he studies the paint more closely, but he can’t help but think it’s the second most beautiful thing he’s ever seen—the first being the blond perched atop an aluminum ladder, roller in hand as he watches the redhead approach.

Eijirou stops at the edge of the drop cloth, next to the buckets of paint and collection of brushes and rollers and other miscellaneous supplies. There’s a worn piece of paper there too, a familiar doodle of a house, and as Eijirou bends down to retrieve the drawing, he feels the first tears begin to fall. He looks up and meets Katsuki’s gaze, but when he tries to speak no sounds come out, emotion constricting his throat and choking off his words.

But Katsuki gets it. He glances back at the siding. “I hate this colour,” he says with a shake of his head. “And honestly, I kind of hate this house.” Those eyes are back on Eijirou then, and the redhead feels his heart flutter in its rhythm at the intensity in that gaze, at the passion burning in those crimson irises. “But I love you. I love you so fucking much. And I think that’s enough.”

Katsuki sets the roller in the paint tray and wipes his hand through his sweat-slicked bangs. There’s red paint on his forehead now, and even some in his hair, but the blond doesn’t seem to notice—and Eijirou’s not about to point it out, not when it could ruin the moment, not when Katsuki looked like he had so much more to say.

After a deep breath, the blond does continue. “I’m sorry, Ei. I’m sorry that I didn’t figure this shit out sooner. I was just so caught up in everything that was going wrong, I forgot about everything that was going right, and I didn’t even consider how you were feeling about any of it. I was just so selfish—”

His voice breaks, and he glances away quickly, jaw clenching, but Eijirou just waits—lets the blond say his piece before offering anything of his own. Katsuki tries again. “I’ve always been that way though, haven’t I? Throughout our entire relationship, I’ve always been selfish. You’re always making sacrifices for me, putting in all this effort to make things work, and I—” He cuts himself off with a laugh, a humourless snort. “I’m so fucking stupid. It kills me that I had to lose you just to figure it out—that these things take work, that I had to actually work for you. That relationships aren’t supposed to be effortless. Nothing worthwhile ever is.

So I’m going to work for this—I want to work for this. Because I love you Ei, and I think you’re worth it. You were right; I haven’t been fair to you. But I’m going to make things right. Things are going to be better from now on. I promise you that. Just…” Katsuki pauses, taking a deep breath. “Just give me another chance and I’ll prove it to you.”

Eijirou wants to say something—knows that he should say something—but there are so many emotions bubbling up inside him right now, there’s much he could say, that he wants to say, and he finds that he can’t find the right words for any of it. But his silence is ill-received, and Eijirou thinks he sees tears brimming in Katsuki’s eyes as the blond waits for a response that isn’t coming, and Eijirou can practically feel the panic welling up within the blond from his place of insecurity, of vulnerability. And damn it, Eijirou wants to reassure him, let him know that he’s got the wrong idea, that the silence is a good thing, but he just can’t get the words to come out.

“I can prove it,” Katsuki says, slowly stepping down the ladder. “I got things squared away with the power and water and all that shit. I called De—Midoriya—about a job and interviewed with Toshinori, so I start there next week. Hell, I even called my fucking parents for advice on this whole situation. I’m really trying this time, I swear it.” He pauses at the foot of the ladder, expression so open and broken as he sheds every layer of armour, laying his heart bare for the redhead. “Please, Eijirou. Just say something already.”

“You used the wrong kind of paint.”

Katsuki blinks at him. “What?”

Eijirou nudges one of the paint cans with his foot. “This is interior paint. It’s gonna peel off from all the weather exposure. It’s never going to last—”

“Then I’ll repaint it,” Katsuki says, cutting him off. “And I’ll repaint, and repaint, and repaint until I finally get it right—whatever it takes to turn this shitty fixer-upper into your dream home.” He takes a cautious step closer. “So what do you say?”

Eijirou glances down at the drawing in his hands, then back up at the blond, and with a small smile on his face, he folds the drawing and gently tucks it away into the pocket of his jeans before holding his arms open. “Come here.”

And the blond closes the distance quickly, burying his face in Eijirou’s chest as the redhead wraps his arms around him, pulling him impossibly close. Eijirou hooks his chin over Katsuki’s shoulder, turning his head towards that blond tuft of hair and whispering, “I missed you so much.”

Katsuki’s arms tighten around him. “I missed you too,” he says, voice slightly muffled.

“And I’m sorry too.”

“Don’t be.”

“I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” Katsuki pulls away, just enough that he can look Eijirou in the eye. “We’re done with all that. That story’s over. We’re writing a new one.”

Eijirou smiles. “Alright. Okay. Let’s just give this another try then, yeah?”

And before Katsuki can answer, Eijirou tips his head forward, capturing the blond’s lips in a quick kiss. But Katsuki doesn’t let him pull away immediately, tilting his head and deepening the kiss, hands tangling in the hair at Eijirou’s nape as he pulls the other closer, sending jolts of electricity through Eijirou’s veins and making his heart flutter in his chest.

When they break apart, they keep each other close, foreheads resting against the other’s, breaths mixing in the small space between them. “I love you,” Eijirou whispers, eyes closed as he basks in Katsuki’s presence.

“I love you too,” comes the whispered reply, and Eijirou feels his smile stretch impossibly wider as he holds the blond in his arms.

“Hey, Eijirou,” Katsuki says after a moment, and Eijirou hums in response, opening his eyes to find the blond’s already on him. Katsuki presses a chaste kiss to his lips and smiles.

“Welcome home.”

*****

It’s late in the evening, and the two are sprawled out on the floor of the spare bedroom—Katsuki on his back, staring boredly at the ceiling, while Eijirou lays on his stomach, closely inspecting the floorboards. “I don’t get it,” the redhead says, turning his attention back to the so-called ‘treasure map’ they had found in their bathroom earlier that year. “The map says the treasure should be in this room.”

“Maybe it’s wrong,” Katsuki says, eyes lazily tracing the designs in the popcorn ceiling. “Or maybe it’s been a fake map all along.”

“Nah, that can’t be it.” Eijirou taps on the floorboards, searching for the odd one out. He’s soon obstructed by the blond’s supine form. He lightly pushes against his side. “Hey, move for a second.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes but does as he’s told, sitting up and scooting over to let Eijirou inspect the floor where he had just been. “This is stupid. We should just give up and go to bed already.”

“You can go if you want,” Eijirou says, eyes never leaving the floor, “but I’m seeing this through to the end.”

Katsuki doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t leave either. Eijirou meets his eyes. “You know, this would go a lot quicker if you helped me…”

Katsuki yawns. “Fuck, fine.”

So they carry on searching—together, this time—until finally—

“Kat, over here!”

Katsuki crawls over to where Eijirou is. Eijirou taps on one of the floorboards, and it sounds hollower than the rest. He raises an eyebrow at the blond, smiling in a smug I told you so sort of way, before he sets to work, trying to wiggle the board out of its place. It’s loose, and with help from Katsuki’s pocketknife, they manage to pry the board up, revealing a small hollowed out compartment beneath. Eijirou reaches inside and pulls out an ornate wooden box. He sets it on the floor between himself and the blond.

“Well?” Katsuki prompts, and, after taking a deep breath, Eijirou opens the box.

The lid opens on its hinges, prompting a gentle melody to drift through the room, the soft piano echoing in the space of the bedroom and wrapping the couple in a soothing embrace. It’s a music box, and at its centre sits the slowly turning figure of a house—a model of a home before wind and storm could weather it to near ruin. And it’s beautiful the way it turns, dancing to that wordless melody, and for a moment Eijirou can’t speak—can barely breathe—enraptured by its simple grace. He wonders if Katsuki feels the same way.

He feels a gentle nudge, and he glances questioningly at Katsuki, who in turn nods towards the box again. Eijirou examines it closer, eyes finally finding the delicate inscription on the inside of the lid—a single word—and his mouth soundlessly forms the letters as he reads the script, not daring to interrupt the melody with his voice.

 Home.

He looks back to Katsuki with a smile, pulling the blond into an embrace before returning his gaze to the music box, letting the gentle melody sink into his bones and lull him to a place of near-sleep. And for the first time since moving in, Eijirou starts to feel like he really is home.

 Smaller than dust on this map

Lies the greatest thing we have

The dirt in which our roots may grow

And the right to call it home