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It was quiet.
Almost too quiet for the household he was in.
Even though Katsuki was used to yelling and shouting, he himself and his family being undeniably loud people, the sounds within his own home at least quieted down occasionally, unlike the ones in Kariage’s.
Where his parents worked and left him to his own devices, only hurling insults at him during the rare hours they were actually home, Kariage’s family was an unrelenting force of abuse, hellbent on showing their child just how miserable they were with him inside their house.
Even before Katsuki first witnessed the screaming within the derelict walls, it was obvious something was up. After all, Kariage wouldn’t have flinched whenever someone yelled near him if things were perfectly okay, nor would his face go stony and emotionless whenever the talk of drugs came up.
He hadn’t flinched in a while, though - not since Katsuki had realized what Kariage was doing, how sensitive he was beneath that tough-guy exterior, and he decided that maybe, just maybe, he could be quiet sometimes. It seemed that everyone appreciated the lower volume with which Katsuki now spoke, but he didn’t particularly care for all those other extras - at least Kariage didn’t feel panicked when he was near him anymore.
But now the house was quiet and Katsuki couldn’t help but melt into the bed at the comfortable silence they shared.
He turned away from the phone he held in his hands and shifted his gaze towards Kariage.
It was weird; Katsuki never thought he’d be able to be near someone and simply not speak, only breaking the quiet when he came across a video or picture he thought Kariage would like and couldn’t stop himself from showing it, hoping his friend would smile at whatever was displayed on the screen.
They didn’t speak besides that, though. While Katsuki was laying down on the single bed, T-Shirt lightly scrunching up above the waistband of his sweatpants as he scrolled on his phone, Kariage was sitting on the windowsill. It was a common place for the boy to sit; whenever Katsuki came over Kariage would settle in his spot and slowly smoke far too many cigarettes while Katsuki scrunched up his face and told him not to come near him while he stinks of tobacco, and every time Kariage would chuckle and call him a prissy little princess, all the while he did exactly as he was told and made sure none of the smoke came anywhere near Katsuki.
He was considerate like that, Katsuki thought.
Whatever.
Katsuki glanced towards Kariage, his brows furrowing as his friend focused on the sketchpad held up on his knees.
That was another thing. As the cigarette hung from his lips, his hands diligently moved across a canvas, creating images of whatever came to Kariage’s mind; sometimes it was scenery and the world around him, sometimes it was imaginary beasts, and sometimes… only sometimes, it was Katsuki. The blond had only gotten a glimpse of such a drawing, it was a split second when he stood behind Kariage while the boy flipped through his sketchbook, but he couldn’t deny it - there it was, lines dragged across the paper to create an image of Katsuki, cheek prompted up on his palm, elbow placed on the desk and gaze distant and unfocused, yet Kariage drew him with such sure movements, such gentle strokes it seemed as if his eyes shimmered even in the dark lines. Katsuki never spoke of the drawing, he never even said he knew it was there. What the fuck was he meant to say about it? No. He kept his mouth shut and ignored the weird-ass blush covering his cheeks whenever he so much as thought about it.
The breeze flowing through the open window snapped Katsuki out of his thoughts, bringing his attention back to the person before him.
With a hum, Kariage leaned his head back and inhaled, the smoke filling his lungs and expanding his chest as he glanced towards the outside, towards the sun setting, the rays illuminating his skin and showing the true colour of those dark, dark eyes - chocolate brown.
Hm. Katsuki supposed they were quite nice. Unique even in a world where quirks changed people’s appearance so drastically that nothing quite looked strange anymore. But Kariage’s eyes were different. Special.
Katsuki didn’t really understand why. Maybe it was the way they seemed to sparkle whenever they were focused on Katsuki - no one ever looked at him that way, with so much fondness and care.
The wind blew once again, this time ruffling Kariage’s hair and causing that one stubborn strand to fall down his forehead, curly black hair tickling at his skin and causing his nose to scrunch up.
Cute.
Like a kitten.
A stupid, leather-clad, sarcastic kitten.
Katsuki let out a sigh as Kariage inhaled the smoke once again, closing his eyes shut while he blew it out slowly, carefully, the smoke causing a haze to appear before his face, obscuring it slightly before it disappeared.
And then he looked up. Dark eyes meeting red.
Katsuki felt an all familiar flush start to appear on his cheeks, the colour intensifying when Kariage merely arched a brow and smirked before going back to his drawing.
Oh.
So that’s what that feeling was.
A shaky exhale escaped him before he clenched his eyes shut, nearly succumbing to the urge to bury his face beneath the blankets and never escape. The blankets which, now that he focused on them, smelled distinctly of Kariage - smoke, vanilla and the smallest notes of that cologne he always wore. The mere fact that he noticed such a detail made him want to punch himself in his stupid face.
Ah fuck.
Fuck.
God fucking dammit.
The fact that he’d never figured it out before was as infuriating as it was embarrassing.
But those feelings were pushed aside, they didn’t matter. What did matter was the fact that his idiot self had decided to develop a stupid useless crush on the guy that had been his closest friend since he was a kid, the guy that would never look at him that way because it just wouldn’t make any fucking sense.
God, his self-preservation skills were really poor, huh?
Stupid. So damn stupid.
With a weary sigh, Katsuki lifted his head and opened his eyes.
It was weird. Kariage was the same, nothing had changed, and yet it felt as if everything was more intense, overwhelming and so fucking different. The strange feelings rising within him when he looked at his friend now made sense, they were there for a reason, and the acknowledgement only made them grow. It was as if now that he knew what made Kariage so special his own head decided to recognise all the little details that were the reasons behind his feelings.
That stupid strand of hair. The way he scrunched up his nose whenever he drew a line he didn’t like. The way the cigarette hung from his lips as he shuffled in his seat. The way his fingers were always covered in black ink, sometimes leaving smudges on his face. Everything. Everything about him.
“You alright there, Kat?”
Kariage’s voice drew him out of his thoughts, pulling him in and surrounding him with its warmth. The shiver that ran down his spine couldn’t go by unnoticed.
“Y-yeah, just tired.”
It was true. Even with the way his heart was racing, he couldn't deny that he was exhausted. That was one of the reasons he'd come to Kariage's in the first place - it was where he went whenever he needed a break, whenever he couldn't sleep in his own home and he just needed to fucking rest.
Kariage hummed, inhaling the smoke once again before he blew it out the window. Suddenly, Katsuki thought the smell wouldn’t bother him that much if it meant Kariage would sit right beside him, maybe lay down next to him and just be there.
“Take a nap if you want, I’ll wake you up for food.”
Katsuki hummed at the words, eyelids closing shut and exhaustion suddenly filling his bones. Maybe he could rest, just for a little bit. Maybe he could pretend that the vanilla and the smoke was coming from the boy he wanted beside him rather than the covers he was laying on. Five minutes, only five minutes of pretending.
“M’kay.”
Seconds passed and all he could think about was him and him and him. But his breathing slowed and he couldn’t help but let himself fall asleep.
He barely felt a blanket being draped over his shoulders and a shaky hand pushing his hair back.
Five minutes.