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1: Katsuki and Izuku
Izuku is home today, reading through the bills and taxes of this year, neon pink reading glasses perched on his nose as he taps away at his calculator. Touya is at the café today, taking over for the shifts abandoned by their part-time staff as the holiday season starts going in full swing. But, before he left, he made sure to leave a plate of ginger snaps and a pot of hot cider just within reach of the greenette, not wanting to impede on his work but also making sure he didn’t have to struggle for a snack.
And that’s where he sits, hours later, plate mere crumbs and pot empty as he mutters and types away numbers and calculations when the kids come home from school
With a bang.
“Kat, wait!” Izuku blinks at the shout, looking up in time to see a red faced blonde march down the hallway and a purplette struggle to follow while taking his shoes off.
“Kacchan?” ruby eyes snap to emerald, and the boy’s lip curls back over sharp teeth as he marches past with a barked “Fuck off!” before slamming the door to his shared room behind him.
Izuku blinks, stunned, before looking to the other two. Hitoshi has his face in his hands, and Shoto is staring at the closed door with a creased brow.
Well, if the apathetic one is worried…
“What happened?”
Hitoshi’s head jerks up, eyes wide as he yelps, “Nothing!” Izuku blinks long and slow, and Hitoshi smiles sheepishly as a hand curls around the back of his neck, “Okay, the usual happened, but!” he cast a worried gaze at the closed door, biting at his lip, “he’s been snappy all day. I don’t think it’s any one thing that’s happened, you know?”
Izuku hums at that, gaze drifting over to settle on the cracked and stained door, mind finally starting to catch up to reality from where it was still flooded with numbers and percentages. After a moment where the two remaining boys are left to shift in the genkan nervously, Izuku turns back to them with a thoughtful look, “Today’s an off day for you guys, right?”
The two exchange confused looks, “Yeah?”
Izuku nods, pulling out his phone and sending a quick text to Touya while standing, “Go help Dabs in the café. Mi-chan is out with friends and Mei-chan is busy at her foster’s garage for the weekend.”
The boys blink, exchanging looks again, before nodding and turning to put their shoes back on. Once Izuku is sure they’re out of the building, and Touya’s received confirmation of them arriving buzzing in his pocket, he makes his way over to the boys’ shared bedroom.
Taking a deep breath, preparing himself for the ensuing shouting match, the greenette knocks twice on the rickety door.
“Kacchan?”
“I said…” something bashes into the other side of the door it sounds like a shoe “fuck off!!!”
Izuku sighs, counting his heartbeats until a minute passes, before knocking again, “Kacchan can I come in?”
“Fuck you!”
Izuku hums, putting his hands in his pockets as he contemplates the closed door. A red and brown package catches his attention. Grabbing the box from the fireplace mantel, he knocks again, “Kacchan please?” there’s a growl, and Izuku rattles the box a bit. “I have spicy meiji…”
This time it’s quiet. Then, 45 heartbeats later, the door cracks open just enough for a crimson eye to peer out. Izuku smiles gently, handing the box through the crack with a whispered “Hey, Kacchan.”
The door opens more, the boy looking down at the gift, before turning back into the room with a grumble. As he left the door open, Izuku steps in, eyes observing the nest like pile of pillows and blankets that is the boys’ currently shared mattress. It looks even more nest like right now, with a clear divot dug into the center where Katsuki is sitting back down into. Keeping a respectful distance, Izuku sits down on the floor with a huff, carefully avoiding disturbing any of Hitoshi’s plushies or Shoto’s coloring books, and blinks at Katsuki. Three cubes of chocolate are consumed before he’s being handed a few to share.
When he takes them, gently, Katsuki murmurs out a meek, “I’m sorry.”
Izuku hums, looking around again when there’s the sound of crackling to his left. There, about where his elbow would be if he were standing, was a hole in the drywall. A fist sized hole.
Blinking, he turns to look at Katsuki, who’s curled up on himself as he nibbles on his spicy chocolate dejectedly. Finishing his own squares, Izuku hums again to get the blondes attention, “Its fine. Not like this apartment doesn’t already have a few holes in it.” his lips quirk as he glances behind Katsuki where there’s a cluster of three smooth patches on the wall behind him, “Makes it feel more lived in.”
The boy scoffs, muttering out a scathing “Whatever” before lapsing back into silence. Izuku settles into that silence, content to let it linger however long he needs, but is surprised when, barely two minutes later, Katsuki grumbles out, “You gonna ask what’s wrong?”
“Only if you want me to.” Izuku keeps his voice even, true, and a faint tension that had built up in Katsuki’s shoulders falls away. Sighing, he leans forward slightly to try and catch the 13 year old’s downcast gaze, smiling warmly when he does. The boy’s face softens a bit more at that, and Izuku leans back, not quite going back to his relaxed position as he finally speaks up. “What’s wrong, Kacchan?”
He swallows. Stares at his hands. And Izuku is settling on the fact he won’t get an answer when he whispers out, so tiredly, “I don’t know.” His shoulders hitch, and his crimson eyes darting around nervously as his nose scrunches and lips curl, “The sleazy teachers were fucking annoying with their praise. The crawling extras were fucking annoying with their goody-two-shoes act. The fucking cicadas were fucking annoying…” Katsuki stops, his raising voice cutting off as he closes his eyes and breathes in deeply through his nose, then out again, going through his exercises before shaking his head. His eyes are still closed, and his voice cracks in a way that makes Izuku’s heart ache, “I… I just…”
“Too much today?” Katsuki snaps his eyes open, the usually sharp angle rounded with a childlike innocence Izuku hasn’t seen in a long time, the color watery with growing emotion as he takes a hitched breath and nods.
“Yea.” He drags in another shivery breath, and Izuku moves.
In an instant, he’s in the blanket nest, arms wrapped tightly around Katsuki’s shivering frame as smaller, trembling hands wrap up into the front of his shirt. Izuku settles onto the mattress, pulling his legs up and crossing his ankles behind his brother so he’s nestled close to him, in his warmth, able to curl up into a ball and listen to his steady heartbeat and calm down.
An hour later, his shirt drenched and legs numb, Katsuki’s shivering dwindles down to heavy breathing and Izuku pulls back a bit to wipe at his drooping face with the corner of a blanket.
“You take your chill pill?” the question is quiet, caring, no accusation or judgment or expectation in it. Just a question, that’s all they ever are.
Katsuki takes a second, a breath, before nodding once.
“Right after brushing my teeth this morning.”
Humming, Izuku finishes drying off his face and starts carding his crooked fingers gently through silken ash blonde locks. Katsuki’s eyes droop slightly as he leans into the touch, so trusting, desperate for the careful feeling that was so missing so long ago. Humming again, thumb rubbing against his brothers cheek for attention, he whispers, “What do you want to do today?”
Katsuki is the one to hum this time, a thin, weary, heavy thing. His eyes blearily crack open, the red of his iris’ dull and vacant as he tugs at Izuku’s shirt weakly. “Sleep.”
“You want me to…” but before he can finish his question, the pulling becomes more insistent, more leading, as the blonde slowly falls sideways into the blanket nest and forcing Izuku to follow. Keeping his arms secure around the blonde, the greenette lays down with him, “Okay, Kacchan. It’s okay.” He keeps carding gentle fingers through his hair until the small boy’s breathing evens out, deepens into the thralls of sleep, whispering all the time in a feather light voice. “Nii-chan’s here, so it’s all okay now.”
“Everything will be okay now, your nii-chan promises.”
___
2: Shoto and Hitoshi
Keys jingle in the lock, and the door cracks open to admit two young boys around the age of 12 into the apartment. The boy on the right, who sports red and white hair split evenly down the middle, hollers out, “We’re home!” before stopping in the hallway. His greeting is met with silence, and that’s when he seems to remember something and blinking. “Oh yeah.” Shoto shrugs out of his winter coat and toes off his boots, padding to the kitchen immediately afterwards to start some water for tea.
The boy behind him, this one with wild lavender hair, snorts at his brother’s antics as he hangs up his scarf and drags both of their school bags to the low coffee table before the fireplace.
Hitoshi’s just finishing setting out his work when Shoto crosses over to put a steaming mug in front of him and then start to head towards their room. Blinking, Hitoshi swivels around on his knees with a sharp whistle to catch the other boy’s attention.
Shoto pauses, hand on the doorknob, and looks back.
Hitoshi hesitates, searching for words that never come readily, before sheepishly waving towards his homework.
>Wanna do math together, S-H-O?<
Shoto blinks, mind sluggish after a bad day, and shakes his head numbly, “I’m fine.”
Hitoshi’s shoulders slump, >Yeah?< he droops further at Shoto’s nod, before he frowns and whistles again. Shoto, who’d thought they were done, turns back to him tiredly. Hitoshi keeps his face open, like Izuku taught him, as he signs slowly, >You don’t look good, you okay?<
Wait, I’ve ͓̈́see͕n you b͑͜efore͢͠͏! Shoto shrugs, “I’m fine.” Weren’t you in that big t̷͓̾ria̶l agai̢͓͖͒̓nst ͏En͙͘͜de͏a̵̶̢͉͇͌̓̾̽v̷̽̈́o̸͖͇͓͆̈́͒ͣ͘r
Hitoshi frowns, gaze on his hands as he thinks back through the day. Shoto was acting just fine this morning, so it wasn’t a day thing. No one bothered them on their way home, so it wasn’t a recent thing. Shoto’s quirk was under control… so it wasn’t really a flustered thing.
Wait…
Shoto flinches as Hitoshi’s head whips up, gold eyes wide and intense as they lock with grey and blue.
>Was it what M-O-N-D-A-I said at lunch?<
Shoto’s spine locks so fast he can hear it crack. His body goes so cold, so still, his eyes drying out and face going slack as his vision wavers a bit at the edges. Black and white and color and gray and sound and static and murmurs and breathe
“… I’m fine.”
Hitoshi frowns at the deadened tone, eyes scanning the stiff soldier like posture of his friend as he stands by the bedroom door. He should call Izuku, he wants to call Izuku, but he’s busy dealing with one of Katsuki’s fights today. A fight that happened at lunch. At something said that’s making Shoto seem to fade away and filter out of reality…
Oh…
>You’re not fine, Sho, stop saying that.< his eyes narrow accusingly at the boy, >If I was constantly called out for looking like my bastard of a father, I’d want to strangle something too.<
Shoto’s entire body twitches.
Hitoshi hadn’t been there at lunch, their class schedule is misaligned this year, so Shoto thought he’d be safe from his attention.
But of course not.
Hitoshi was too observant for that.
But then…
Shoto finally releases the doorknob and leans against the closed door, arms crossed as he narrows his eyes at his purple friend, “Are you okay?”
Not expecting the sudden switch in topic, Hitoshi can’t help but blink and stagger a bit as he signs, >W-w-what?<
Shoto’s gaze just sharpens more, “The trio, at class recreation.” And there’s a flinch. A twitch of a hand to the torso. And something in Shoto burns.
“You okay?” Hitoshi looks up at his friends tone, and flinches again at the cold fire flickering in his gaze. And, for a moment, he wants to deny it.
Wants to laugh off the concern.
Wants to ignore the throbbing of his ribs where the bastards had kicked him when he was down.
Wants to wave off the echoing of their words in his head.
Want to useless fre̵͈͋a͉͘k dismiss his words you’re just as b͚͍͌̾a̸̻d as you f͏a̶͒͢th͍͎͖̽͌͘e͇͗͘ͅr and turn back to his homework wh͕͘y ͏̿do̻n’t y̨̩ö͓́u jus͙͆t up an̶̷͙͍͊͜d͏͕͚̬̽͠ d͏͍͚̻͜͝i̵̧e and bring up what he’s noticed with Izuku when he gets back.
…
But then his gaze snags on a bit of green.
A bit of red.
A shimmer in the window from where Izuku put it up again this year.
“Of course I’m going to use it!” he’d smiled with creases around his eyes “Shinchan made it for his family, after all!”
“… No.” Shoto stops, eyes widening as Hitoshi stands up, voice ragged from disuse as he turns defiant eyes to Shoto. “I’m not.” Pulling up the edge of his uniform’s white undershirt, Shoto drags in a breath at the mottled purple and green bruises that wrap around his ribs. Frost coating his right hand, he lunges forward to press his impromptu icepack to the wound, Hitoshi hissing at the cold before slumping in relief as the ache is abated for a bit. They stand there, silent, contemplative, when it’s broken by Hitoshi’s ruined voice.
“It’s not fair.” Shoto looks up to meet Hitoshi’s molten gaze, “Izuku keeps saying that I am more than my quirk, more than my blood, but why is it no one else fucking sees that?!” he grits his teeth as his throat throbs from his yelling, looking back down where a slight frost is crawling across his bruised skin, “It’s not fair and I hate it.”
Shoto blinks, long and slow, pulling back from his friend to let him drop his shirt again, face pinched in pain but not as much as before. It takes a moment for his words to process, but Shoto eventually finds himself asking, “More than your blood?”
Hitoshi looks up in surprise, then narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Yeah, Zuku never tell you that?”
“Every day.” And it was true. Every day, Izuku would smile at him and ruffle his hair, right above his scar, greeting him for the morning. Every winter, Touya and Shoto would work together in ensuring the apartment was heated to comfortable levels with sweaters and jackets on, and Izuku would smile in thanks. Every time Shoto would be in the bathroom, bottle of scar concealer in hand, Izuku would come in and trace gentle fingers along the raised curve around his eye, the dripping end on his cheek, and ask if he wanted to go without for the day, that it was okay to want to show his face, to hide his face, to be free to choose…
Shoto holds up his left hand, examining the smooth skin of his palm, the neat fingernails, a slight waver of heat in the air around his wrist, “I am more than my blood.” He flexes his hand, “My so called lineage.” He grits his teeth, frost curling across his right cheekbone, “I’m more than that. So why…” orange flames flicker to life across his whitening knuckles, “Why am I so confused about it? Why can’t I move past this? Why do I keep letting him run my fucking life?!”
BAM
Shoto jumps, ice and fire snuffed out in surprise as he looks up where the crash had sounded from.
Hitoshi stands a bit further ahead of him, over the dead fireplace, arm parallel to the ground, fist wrist deep in the drywall.
Gold eyes flicker open to peer up between lavender fringe at Shoto.
The boy yanks his fist out of the wall, hands still clenched as they tremble and shed white dust onto the wood plank flooring.
Then, in the breath of silence, a ragged voice rasps out “It’s not fair.”
Shoto goes to take a step, “Shi—”
“Say it!” Shoto freezes at the shout, the raw emotion in the boys’ voice. Hitoshi lifts his head further, something molten and frantic and consuming in those gold gold gold eyes of his as he pins Shoto where he stands. Again, a rasping voice curls from pale lips, “It’s not fair, Sho. Say it. You are more than your blood.”
Swallowing, Shoto grits out “I am more than my blood.”
Hitoshi straightens, “You are more than your quirk.”
Jaw clenching, Shoto growls out “I am more than my quirk.”
Hitoshi takes a step forward, “You are more than your so called destiny.”
Hackles rising, Shoto pants out “I am more than my destiny!”
Hitoshi beats a first to his chest, “We are more than that!”
Blood boiling, Shoto shouts out “We are more than that!”
Hitoshi is in Shoto’s face now as he shouts, “It’s not fair!”
And Shoto shouts back.
“It’s not fair!”
“IT’S NOT FAIR!”
~o~
Keys jingle in the lock, and the door cracks open to admit two males, one around the age of 12 and the other well into his 20s, into the apartment
“We’re home!” The greenette calls as he sheds his coat and scarf to hang up. The blonde grumbles under his breath as he yanks off his heavy boots and the wool socks within.
Izuku smiles at the boy’s frustration, exhaustion weighing down on his limbs and making him less than forgiving to the cause of that weight.
You’d think after the 15th meeting in the principal’s office, children would learn.
But not this family!
Sighing, the greenette shoos Katsuki down the hall where he can smell the welcoming scent of spicy cider and hear the tell-tale scritch of pen on paper.
Then promptly freezes at the scene that greets him.
“Welcome home.”
“Heyya!”
“What… happened?” even Katsuki is stunned silent at the… mess the apartment has become. That’s the only word for it. At least, that’s the only one that comes to Izuku’s slowly dying mental functions.
Shoto blinks from where he’s perched on the bottom of the couch, yes, the bottom, and shrugs innocently, “Shi-kun and I punched a wall.” as if that’s the only thing you did???? Then, ever loyal, Shoto points over to Hitoshi, who’s doing his homework from his own perch on top of the bookshelf. “He started it.”
Hitoshi squawks, “Hey!” and that’s all it takes to trigger a, albeit verbal, squabble between the two boys as Izuku stares stunned from his spot in the hallway.
Katsuki snickers beside him, prompting a snapped glare down in his direction.
And the blonde has the gall to shrug…
“And you’re getting on my ass about anger issues?” before Izuku can think of a reply to that, Katsuki steps fully into the living room, interrupting the boy’s arguing enough to ask, “You at least kill the rat bastard living in the pipes?”
…………
“Kacchan!”
___
3: Touya and Izuku
It’s dark in the apartment, the curtains drawn from the morning to keep most of the abrasive early summer heat out of the dingy studio as much as possible. Touya lingers in the doorway, keys dangling from the tips of his limp fingers as he looks around, eyes dull and face lax.
Mustering up the strength to move, he toes off his shoes and takes the awkward half step up out of the genkan and into the hallway. His shoulder bag is heavy, his feet drag, legal terminology and courtroom jargon swims around and around and around his head as he makes it to the sparse living room.
There’s a ratty couch facing a cold fireplace, boxes set on either side as temporary tables, piles upon piles of stupid thrift junk Izuku had gotten for free as payment for his warehouse work scattered around the space.
Something deep down kindles painfully.
Touya sets his bag down beside the four seater folding table that was their dining table. He glances over the scraps of paper on top of it, numbers swimming in front of his eyes and legal terminology and courtroom jargon…
…This court must bring up the inquiry of whether or not your home is even
fit to house a child…
When he comes too, his arm is elbow deep in the nearest wall.
“Dabs?”
Sharp, instinctive, visceral fear lashes through the redhead as he yanks his arm from the drywall. He spins around at the groggy voice, finding his partner standing in the only bedroom’s doorway. His hair is mussed and eyes bleary with sleep. He’s wearing pair of gray sweatpants that hang off his bony hips, chest bare to reveal strips of scarred flesh connecting faint freckles across his torso.
Usually, Touya would appreciate seeing his partner like this…
But he’d just put a hole in the wall…
“I didn’t know you were home…” he winces at the tremble in his voice, and Izuku seems to blink more awake at the tone. His emerald eyes shift ever so slightly to the left, where Touya is doing a poor job at hiding the pocket of decimated drywall. Panic, fueled by anger and desperation and fear, floods the redhead’s chest as those eyes drift back to him, a dark green brow quirking in a question. Before the greenette can open his mouth, Touya finds himself staggering forward, eyes wide and desperate to just fix it, “I can explain!”
But Izuku just waves a languid hand, face going into a neutral gentleness as he steps further into the living room, “You’re fine.” He looks over Touya’s frozen shoulder, amusement curling along his full lips, “I didn’t sign an ‘as is’ clause, so take out as many walls as you need.”
And it’s when he laughs, light and soft and kind, eyes creasing slightly as he stops a few steps in front of Touya, freckles bunched and hands loose in pockets…
“It’s not fine.”
… something cracks.
Izuku blinks, tilting his head curiously, “Hm?”
And Touya just can’t.
The words of the judges and the lawyers and the bastard are swirling in his head while the little soft face of his brother flashes behind every blink.
And here Izuku was, with a hole in the fucking wall and just accepting it
“It’s not fine…” he clenches his hands, spitting the words between clenched teeth, “You spent fucking months saving for a somewhat decent place for us to live and I just…” he barks a harsh laugh, running burning fingers into tangled hair, “I’m such an ungrateful ass!”
Izuku frowns, and Touya revels in the displeasure, the familiarity, until he steps forward again with a gentle voice and soft crooked hand, “Dabs, I swear its fi—”
“Don’t fucking lie to me!” and he flinches, because Izuku flinches, and they stand there in the heavy broken air, and Touya drags in increasingly sharp breaths as he shakes his head, “Don’t you fuckin’…” he lets out a mirthless laugh, and oh, his vision is wavering. Is he crying?
He laughs again, a shattering, hitched and watery thing as he pulls at his unwashed red locks, “I just got home from looking at so many lies, I can’t…” his breathing stalls, “I can’t…” and now he’s gasping, vision swimming, chest burning, but before he can panic, before memories of fire and smoke and ice and pain can flood his senses, warm, sturdy, familiar arms wrap around him. Pull him close. Keep him together.
His breathing is erratic, but with the thrumming of a solid heartbeat under his ear, he slowly starts to match it.
His skin burns horribly, but with the gentle rhythm crooked fingers trace down his spine, across his shoulders, over his ribs, he can start focusing on cooling off.
His mind is static of memories and arguments and worthless weak unfit no good…
But with the rumble in the throat he’s placed his face against, he manages to choke out, “He’s six, Izu.” And that’s all it takes for the dam to break, “He’s fucking six, and that bastard expects him to… wants him to…”
“You’ll win, Dabs.” And oh, do Touya’s words die in his throat. Because the conviction, the trust, the unquestioning belief in his partner’s voice is so strong… there’s no way he can ever doubt himself with someone like him in his corner.
Gently, rhythmically, steadily, Izuku leads them into a swaying circle where they stand, slowly turning them in a sort of dance that kept them still, kept them grounded, lulling the voices and cruelty of the day as he speaks into Touya’s hair, “You’ll win. With everything we have against him, with everything we’ve uncovered.” A warm calloused hand cups the back of Touya’s neck, prompting him to lean further into Izuku’s embrace, “You’ll win, and we’ll get custody and make sure he’s never hurt again. I promise.”
And that word, finally allows Touya to cry.
His eyes burn with the want to tear up, bleed with their inability to, but he doesn’t care. He knows Izuku doesn’t either. Not when he hums and rocks them and sooths him with gentle touches and sweet sweet nothings.
It’s after Touya has cried his fill, and his face wiped off from the lingering blood and tiredness, that Izuku smiles at him again, all soft sunlight and mirthful eyes, “And if we don’t win, I’ve got only 7 months in my curriculum left, then I’ll have the ability to rip him apart myself.”
Touya snorts at that, knocking a loose fist against his partner’s shoulder. He knows it won’t come to that, not with the progress he’s just now thinking about, the nervousness he’d barely recognized in his opponent’s eyes and posture and tone as he sat in that courtroom.
No, it won’t come to that.
But…
“And Kat?” Izuku goes still, eyes glazing over slightly as his breath suddenly grows heavier.
“What about him?”
Touya hums at the slight crack, the tremble, and pulls Izuku close. This time, it’s his turn to lead their swaying circle when he speaks, “When’re you gonna sink your teeth into that?”
Izuku huffs, face pressed close to Touya’s shoulder as he shrugs, “Once I have that license in my hand, well,” there’s a grin in his voice as his hands tighten slightly on Touya’s waist, “Shoto and Kacchan will get new brothers for Christmas.”
Touya snorts.
Then chuckles.
And he can’t hold back anymore as he laughs into his partner’s shoulders as they start swaying more heavily, more unbalanced, in a wider circle.
And Izuku laughs with him.
The tension bleeds from the room, and fills instead with a burning ache and hesitant hope that the two men grasp onto with desperate grips.
They’ll be okay. And soon, so will the other two boys, left behind for only a moment as they prepare for the fight ahead.
The laughter is dying now, leaving behind a hollow shaky feeling, not a gross feeling, but a tired one nonetheless, and Izuku pulls back to gently grip Touya’s face between scarred hands, “Feel better?”
“Yeh.” The redhead feels his gaze drift to over Izuku’s shoulder, where the hole sits accusingly in the wall. “Sorry.” But Izuku is bringing his attention back to him as he shakes his head.
“You did nothing wrong.”
“Bullshit, I just…” he stops, breathes and leans forward to rest his forehead against Izuku’s, “Thank you.”
For everything…
Izuku smiles, mischief glinting in his hooded eyes, “You wanna know how to really thank me?”
Touya chuckles again, a shiver drifting down his spine as his partner traces a light touch to the back of his neck, “Asshole.” But there’s no bite in his voice, no anger. Never anger.
Instead, Touya pulls back, nose brushing lightly against Izuku’s, as he whispers reverently into the dark, lukewarm apartment and the closeness they share.
“I love you, Izuku.”
And Izuku just smiles back, gentle warmth and steel conviction as he leans forward, their breath mingling between them as he whispers just as sacredly back.
“I love you, Touya.”
___
4: Izuku
Heaving a sigh, Izuku leans back into his chair, fingers coming up to rub at his aching eyes under his cracked reading glasses. He’d just finished calculating the last of their meager funds, just signed off the last of their overcharged payments, just put his pen down after writing a grant letter he knows won’t be accepted…
And he’s tired.
Taking a moment just to rest, he listens to the muffled silence that blankets over the apartment. Only a few hours before, it’d been loud and buzzing and bright with laughter and teasing and good natured bickering as the kids pulled presents from under their wire and tinsel tree. The sounds of ripping paper and excited exclamations the background to sizzling pork and bubbling rice. The glint of chocolate wrappers and rattle of hard candy in its bags a prompt to more shouting and wrestling with the intent to steal the sweets, if only to make sure the kids weren’t buzzing with a sugar high at the end of the day.
Pulling his face from his hands, Izuku looks to his right, out the window, to see the world a mix of navy black and silver white as it snowed. Red and green and yellowed lights glow faintly like fireflies in the distance, giving the impression of seclusion, of separation, between the outside world and this small pocket of lingering warmth.
A shiver drips down Izuku’s back, and he pulls his wool knit shawl closer around him, smiling slightly as he rubs the textured lines of his gift while looking over at the fireplace. There’s still some trash on the coffee table, empty spicy meiji wrappers from Kacchan, tan parchment paper from Shochan’s presents, some purple tinsel that Hitoshi had been fascinated with…
Slowly, the smile slips from Izuku’s lips as he thinks of the purplette, and before he’s aware of it, he’s up and moving towards the boys’ shared bedroom.
The door creaks as he nudges it open, but the sound is barely heard over the resounding snores within. He can just barely see in the darkened room, but what he does make out makes him breathe out a light laugh.
All three of the kids are piled up on the sole mattress of the room, Hitoshi in the middle with Kacchan and Shochan on either side, their arms wrapped firmly around the smaller, thinner boy as if he were something precious he was.
The bunch is surrounded by pillows and blankets Izuku’s found over the years, thick heavy comforters and soft, worn down fleece throws. Then, around that, Touya lays curved along the pile, long arm draped across the small bodies pressed in the center, his limbs long enough he can reach his hand around Shochan’s back on the far end of the mattress.
Gently, Izuku pulls the door back shut, lips turned up into something sad and distant, as he shuffles back over to the dining table. His fingers drift over the stacks of paper, the half empty pens, the calculator that’s missing a few keys…
Bright red ink stamped on envelopes glares up at him from under the stacks.
Negative numbers flash boldly between the lines and lines and lines of text.
To Midori-kun, We regret to inform you that your request for a loan has been denied…
Swallowing thickly, he turns away from the table and crosses the large, small space to the wall with the window, looking out into the snowy world outside.
And for a moment, he pictures himself in a snow globe.
Closed off.
Secluded.
Only focused on once a year, dusted off for one night.
Remembered for one moment.
And once he’s warranted his use, he’s put back in a box and left to the back of the store house until next year.
His mind goes to the mantle of the fireplace, where he’s nailed a new wood board in place over a gaping hole.
His memory goes back to the small scar on his knuckles, a small addition to the collection gathered there.
His gut clenches at the phantom pain and ghostlike whispers that float up, reminding him of the words that guided his fist to the solid wood and drywall that sat just above the plaster fire pit.
Monthly deposit of…
Unwarranted Eviction from…
Dear Midori-kun, It is with our deepest regrets that we inform you your request has been denied…
“Izu?”
The greenette snaps out of his mind, taking notice to the dampness of his cheeks and tightness of his chest, before turning to the sleep heavy voice.
Touya leans against the door frame heavily, diamond patterned sweater hanging loose on his frame as he blinks groggily at Izuku. He takes a moment to rub at his face, yawning widely, to which Izuku takes that chance to wipe away any lingering tears and redness from his face before his partner focuses back on him.
“Sorry, Dabs.” Izuku swallows past the burning in his throat, keeping his voice low as to avoid any cracking or unnecessary emotion in his tone, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Touya just blinks at him once, twice, before shuffling forward. He towers heavily when he reaches Izuku, and the greenette barely has time to open his mouth, wondering why, before he’s being pulled by the sleeve towards the bedroom.
“Ah, Dabs, wait.” Izuku hesitantly pulls back, not really trying to escape, but just wait, “I still need to clean up, and get everything ready for tomorrow, and—”
“Do it tomorrow.” Touya’s voice is dull, gruff, resolute. Izuku sputters in place, and it’s enough of a distraction for Touya to pull him further towards the bedroom.
“But I need to—”
“Sleep now, clean tomorrow.” They’re almost to the door, and Izuku plants his feet desperately.
“But—”
“Midori Izuku.” He clamps his mouth shut, eyes widening as Touya turns to him, eyes closed and face tired as warm, long fingered hands wrap around his shoulders, “It’s Christmas. Come spend it with your family, and sleep.”
Then he’s being dragged into the room, being pushed insistently but not unkindly down behind Shochan’s still snoring body, being smothered by a heavy quilted blanket he’d found three weeks ago in the clearance bin at the mall…
And Touya lies down across from him, in his original spot behind Kacchan, his fingers gripping the side of Izuku’s wool shawl that still covers him as he mutters out a “Go to sleep, idiot.” Before drifting off once more.
And there Izuku lies, eyes darting from Touya’s tattooed cheeks to Shochan’s green and red colored hair which is due to the new dies Touya bought him with money from the docks to Kacchan’s new tan hearing aids which shouldn’t still be in his ears the silly boy to Hitoshi’s peaceful face, the scab’s on his cheeks and nose and chin almost gone, leaving behind slightly shiny scars as a reminder of the hell he’d been in not a month before…
And there Izuku stays, in the din the boys’ snoring creates in that small dark pocket of warmth.
And there Izuku smiles, his body going lax as he allows himself to drift in that warmth, finally.
And there, Izuku wakes up, hours later, to the after Christmas atmosphere of hot chocolate and cookies and left over’s and adventures out into the snow.
Yes.
This is where he’ll stay.
For every Christmas onward, and every day between.