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//It’s warm under the covers. The golden morning sunrays kiss Katsuki’s cheek, making his eyelids flutter open, a soft furrow between his eyebrows as he tries to get his pupils used to the light.
He crumples the white duvet with his hands, pulling it up to cover his bare shoulders as he turns to the other side.//
Katsuki is asleep, but his expression relaxes and his lips pull into a slight smile.
It’s good to be like this again.
He missed it. He missed -
//Eijirou is still sleeping, tan limbs tangled between white sheets, red hair sprawled on the pillow and across his face. Katsuki smiles. He loves waking up before Eijirou, being able to take his time basking in his favorite sight.
Katsuki’s arm reach out to brush Eijirou’s hair away from his face, softly, reverently.
He looks like an angel when he sleeps, and Katsuki never gets tired of taking this image in, even after a thousand mornings waking up next to him. He doesn’t think he ever will. For sure, he doesn’t plan to.//
Katsuki’s hand reaches out, it reaches and reaches until it’s hanging off the side of the bed.
//“Hey” Katsuki hums, softly, brushing Eijirou’s hair again. “Time to wake up”.
Eijirou whines in his sleep, and Katsuki huffs, an amused smile stretching his lips.
He’s always a big baby when it comes to waking up.
“Eiji, wake up”.
“Yoveemego” Eijirou mumbles. Katsuki furrows. It didn’t sound like the usual “Five more minutes”.
“What?”
“You have to let me go” Eijirou says, clearly this time, now propped up on one arm, eyes open and staring into Katsuki’s.
There’s no sun anymore.//
Katsuki turns around in his sleep, laying on his back. His face is turning from one side to the other, franctically. A pained moan escapes his lips.
“N-n-…”.
//Eijirou’s eyes roll back, and he goes stiff, collapsing into the bed. He’s cold under Katsuki’s touch.
“Eijirou, stop. It’s not funny.”. He doesn’t get an answer.
“Eijirou?” Katsuki tries again, worry thick in his voice.
“Eiji?! Wake up!”. Katsuki sits up, hand pressed against Eijirou’s chest under the duvet.
It’s not moving, Eijirou is not breathing, and he feels something wet his fingertips.
He pulls his hand from under the covers and grabs the hem of the duvet, yanking it off the both of them.
The white duvet has red stains in the shape of Katsuki’s hands.//
Katsuki realizes he’s screaming before he’s even completely awake. He sits up so quickly he goes dizzy for a few seconds, before his bedroom door slams open. A panicked voice asks him if he’s alright, and he tries to answer, but his throat feels stiff, and he only manages to push a pathetic whine out of his dry lips.
The bed moves and he feels a weight on the mattress, before soft arms engulf him in a hug. The person smells like bubblegum, and when he’s let go, he manages to make out curly hair and horns despite the room’s darkness.
Right. He forgot that Mina was sleeping on the couch. He forgot that he can’t be left alone now, like a child.
“’M fine” he grunts, when Mina reaches past him to turn on the lamp on his nightstand.
He rubs his hands on his face, flinching when the dampness on his fingers touches his cheeks.
He cried in his sleep. That’s why he felt his hands getting wet. In the dream it wasn’t tears, though, it was blood, it was Eijirou’s blo -
“Who’s next?” Katsuki asks, voice hoarse.
Mina hands him the glass of water they always make sure is on his nightstand, and looks at him.
“Who’s the next one on suicide watch?” he asks again.
“Please don’t call –“ Mina starts.
“What is it then? I’m simply calling it what it is”. Mina takes a deep breath.
“Sero.” she says “It’s three in the morning right now, he’s coming in a couple of hours, after his night shift. ‘Said he’ll need the shower”.
Katsuki shrugs. “Fine by me”.
“Do you need anything?” Mina asks, softly.
/Eijirou. I need Eijirou/.
Katsuki shakes his head.
“No. I’m good. Sorry I woke you up” he says, laying back down and pulling the covers up to his ears.
He hears Mina sigh and get up from the bed, before she’s tucking the duvet under his chin and laying down to press a kiss to his temple.
“’Night, Blasty” she says, gently closing the door behind her.
Katsuki knows he won’t fall asleep.
“’Night” he tells the empty room.
Dawn comes quickly, replacing the early morning darkness with the typical dull, cold light of winter days.
Katsuki watches the sun rise, peeking through a slit between his closed curtains, house silent except for Mina quietly talking to Sero before she leaves, and the latter quickly showering before dropping on Katsuki’s couch with a groan.
Katsuki hates winter. He hates feeling cold, he hates when it rains and his quirk becomes useless.
Eijirou adored winter. He waited impatiently for the first snow every year, excited like a child on Christmas Eve, and made a point of always touching the first snow, no matter how muddy and dirty it was.
For good luck, he said.
Katsuki always acted disgusted at the unhygienic display, but whenever the redhead turned around, he let his lips pull into a smile that was so full of fondness it almost felt out of place on his otherwise constantly frowning face.
Katsuki hears a grunt, followed by some heavy steps and the sound of the coffee machine starting.
He knows that Sero never sleeps much after night shifts, and that he’s often cranky the day after one for this exact reason.
He doesn’t know why the tape hero decided to come to his house to sleep on his uncomfortable couch instead of going home and actually rest for the few hours his body allowed him to sleep.
Katsuki rolls around in the bed, and his eyes fall on the desk on the other side of the room. It’s cluttered, covered in pens and papers, some candy wrappers and a Pikachu plushie he got from Kaminari after he won a bet… and the ugliest snowball in the history of ugly snowballs.
The base is bright orange, and inside there’s a small yellowish dog wearing an angry expression and what awfully resembles a knock-off of Dynamight’s costume.
Katsuki’s eyes sting.
”There’s absolutely no way” Katsuki barks, rubbing his gloved hands together in an attempt to warm up “you’re bringing that thing into our house”.
“Aw, Kats, c’mon! Look!” Eijirou laughs, nose red from the cold, waving a cheap-looking snowball in front of Katsuki’s face, looking way too adorable for a man his size.
“It’s you!” he adds, pointing at the small dog inside.
“It’s not me!” Katsuki says, trying to sound angry, but it’s easier said than done when your boyfriend is the personification of a field of sunflowers on a warm summer afternoon.
“It is. And I’m getting it. Totally worth one night on the couch” Eijirou jokes, handing money to the seller and happily shoving the snowball in his jacket’s pocket.
“Don’t give me ideas.” Katsuki says, rolling his eyes “Besides, why buy a shitty trinket that resembles me – it doesn’t – when you have the real thing?”.
Eijirou thinks. “Mmh, maybe so that I’ll feel you’re home even when you’re not.” he answers.
“I’m not going anywhere, idiot. Except for a mission or two.”
“Well, I don’t know that.”
They walk in silence, zig-zaging between the market stands covered in snow.
It was Eijirou’s idea, obviously, to go to the Christmas market in their neighborhood.
The first time they went was when they moved in together eight years prior, fresh out of UA, not yet dating, but silently agreeing that their house was going to be theirs only.
Eijirou had befriended every single old lady on their street in record time; he always carried their groceries and rescued their cats whenever they got stuck on trees, and one of them had told him about the local Christmas market – while forcing into his hands a pie she had baked just for him (and maybe for his grumpy friend).
Eijirou had basically physically dragged Katsuki to the first market, but it quickly became a yearly routine, something that really marked the beginning of the holidays for them.
Katsuki secretly loved going, not because he liked the event per se – he didn’t, too many screaming children throwing tantrums over candy – but because he had a front row seat to Eijirou’s beaming smile and glistening eyes.
He loved seeing Eijirou happy.
He loved making Eijirou happy.
”Then maybe you should make sure” Katsuki says, after a few minutes of walking in silence and dodging giggling children running away from their screaming parents.
“Uh?” Eijirou asks, confused, looking up from a flier he got from one of the stands.
“You” Katsuki repeats, locking his arms around his boyfriend’s waist “should make sure I never leave” he concludes, scanning the redhead’s expression.
Eijirou frowns for a second, thinking, and then his features relax as he breaks into a giggle.
“And how would I do that?” he asks, nose brushing against Katsuki’s unruly hair, peppered with tiny snowflakes.
“Get creative”.
“Alright, let’s see, I could tie you to the kitchen table…”
“Ooh, kinky”.
Eijirou snorts.
“Or you could marry me” he adds, looking down as a soft blush spreads on his cheeks.
When he looks up, Katsuki has a pleased look on his face.
“Or I could marry you”.
“Fuck you making all that noise for?”. Katsuki stumbles into the kitchen, making Sero flinch.
“Shit, man, sorry if I woke you up, but this thing stopped working…” the dark-haired man says, pointing at the coffee machine.
“Just hit it. It’s old, it does that shit like once a week.” Katsuki explains, sitting at the kitchen table and pulling his feet up on the chair, hugging his knees.
“Then why don’t you get a new one?” Sero asks, slapping the poor coffee machine a couple of times before it comes back to life with a whirr and begrudgingly resumes pouring dark liquid into the mug.
Katsuki’s eyes darken, and he puts his head between his arms, hiding his expression from his friend.
“Ei liked it. We got a new one last year, but he said the coffee didn’t taste as good”.
He hears Sero hold in a breath, and he doesn’t have to look to know that his friend’s eyes started watering.
“G-got it”, he says, clearly trying to choke down a sob. “You, uh... you want some?” he asks, pointing at the coffee machine even though Katsuki can’t see him.
Without lifting his head, the blond holds out his right hand, and a few seconds later a warm mug is gently placed on his palm.
“Did you sleep?” Sero asks, sitting in the chair next to Katsuki’s.
“Like two hours” the blond grunts, sipping his coffee.
“Me too” Sero says, stirring his drink way too energetically for a sleep deprived man who is awake at six in the morning.
Katsuki rests his cheek on his forearms. “You didn’t have to come here, you know.” he says, voice muffled by his arm.
“It was my turn-“ Sero starts saying, but gets cut off by the blond.
“I mean, none of you have to come here. I hate being put on fucking suicide watch by my own friends.” he growls, voice harsher than he intended it to be.
He knows why they’re doing it, he knows it’s because they are worried and they love him and they want to make sure he stays. At least him.
But he can’t stand the look of pity in their eyes whenever they look at him, the way they lower their voice when he walks into a room, the way they tiptoe around him as if he’s an eggshell bound to break and crumble at any moment.
Not that Katsuki doesn’t feel like he is about to break and crumble.
But he doesn’t want them to acknowledge it too, he doesn’t want them to look at him and think oh look, poor fucking Katsuki who became a widower even before officially getting married.
He can take care of himself. He thinks.
“Please, Kat, stop calling it like that” Sero whispers, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes, clearly unhappy with being forced to have that conversation. “It’s just… we want to be there for you, yeah?”.
“I know” Katsuki says. Since everything happened, his friends had taken turns being at his house, never leaving him alone, doing laundry and cleaning up and making sure he ate, at least a little bit.
And Katsuki is thankful, but he wants his space, his time. He wants to be alone and grieve in the very place that Eijirou once filled with life, with light, with love.
He wants to take his time running his fingers across the – frankly horrible – swirls that Eijirou carved on the fireplace using his quirk during their second summer there.
He wants to tend to the plants Eijirou cherished so much, water them and talk to them as if they could understand that something was missing. As if they could tell him that they felt the emptiness too.
He wants to fold Eijirou’s old shirts and smell them, one by one, making sure to imprint the scent in his nostrils before it inevitably faded away.
He had slept with one of Eijirou’s shirts on his pillow the first night he managed to get some sleep, about two – or was it three? – nights after he saw him for the last time.
He dreamt that Eijirou was home, he dreamt that he came back after work like he always did, like he promised he always would, and his scent on the shirt made the dream feel so real that Katsuki’s freshly awoken brain genuinely believed that Eijirou was there again. For a few seconds.
When the realization dawned on him it physically felt like a punch in the gut, and he barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up.
He shoved the shirt in the back of the wardrobe, and never touched one again.
“I know, but it’s been almost two weeks since the… since the funeral” Katsuki continues, swallowing hard. “Deku meal preps for an entire week anyway, I won’t starve even if you leave me alone for a few days”. Sero doesn’t look convinced. At all. And Katsuki knows why.
“I’m not gonna kill myself” he says bluntly, making Sero flinch for the second time.
“I-“
“Also, if I really wanted to off myself, one of you sleeping on my couch wouldn’t be the thing to stop me” he adds.
Sero’s eyes go as wide as saucers.
“I won’t, Han.” Katsuki says again, trying to sound as convincing as he can.
“Besides, I don’t think I’d be ready for the ass kicking Eijirou would give me once I get to the other side”.
His forced giggle quickly turns into a pained sob.
Sero holds him until his tear ducts dry out and the tear tracks on his cheeks start to hitch.
“The containers can be put in the microwave, so basically you just have to heat the food and you’re good to go” Deku says, checking the fridge for the tenth time in the last five minutes.
“There’s enough for… three days? Anyway, I’ll be back with some groceries in a couple of days, text me if you want something in particular” he continues, looking at Katsuki, clearly concerned.
“I’ll be fine, you overprotective idiot” the blond barks, and his friend crosses his arms, unphased.
“I’m serious, Kacchan, tell me if you need anything and I’ll be here. For emergencies, Todoroki lives-“
“Two blocks from here. As he has for the past five years. I know.” Katsuki interrupts him, glaring.
“He said he’ll make himself available for you, if you need someone to be here quickly. For anything else you can call me, or Chako, or…”
“Or Mina or Sero or Denki or Shinsou… I know that too”.
Deku huffs, but nods in understanding and picks up his bag. He has one hand on the door handle when he turns around to look at his childhood friend, his absolutely devastated friend who somehow still looked like someone he could look up to, even after all he was going through.
“Please check in once a day, okay? We love you” he says, a faint smile on his freckled lips. Katsuki nods.
“That’s another thing I know. You have been smothering me in love lately. Feels sticky.” he says, shuddering.
“Sticky?” Deku giggles, before taking his hand off the handle to squeeze Katsuki’s, big green eyes looking into sharp crimson ones.
“Alright, see you”.
“See you, nerd”.
//”This way, quickly!” someone is screaming, pointing towards the left side of the collapsed building. It’s a hero Katsuki has seen a couple of times before, dressed in a tight black and grey suit. He can turn inanimate things into granite if he touches them, he thinks. Pretty useful quirk if used properly.
A flash of red enters his peripheral vision, and he feels a gut churning wave of pure terror wash over him. "Don’t go don’t go".
"If you go, you’re never coming back."
"Don’t-"//
“Go!” Katsuki screams, tugging at his shirt as he hyperventilates.
He's in his bed, not on a battlefield, and he just screamed at nothing. He half expects someone to barge through the door, Uraraka maybe, or Kaminari, but then he remembers he got them to leave him alone for a few days. It’s just him in his empty, cold apartment.
He huffs and falls back into the mattress, grabbing his phone. It’s one in the morning, and he had only fallen asleep a couple of hours before.
There’s a message from Tetsu, checking in and apologizing for not being around much. After Katsuki and Eijirou’s parents, he was the probably the one who was suffering the most.
Katsuki remembers how Tetsu was at the funeral, a mountain of a man who suddenly looked small and vulnerable, sobbing through his speech saying what an incredible man his best friend was, leaving right after the function ended with an apologetic nod at Katsuki because he couldn’t stand to stay there any longer.
Katsuki knew Tetsu felt guilty, but he understood.
The two were practically attached at the hip, and if reincarnation was a thing, they were probably actual brothers in a past life. Maybe they would get to meet in the next one, too.
It was hard not to feel completely emptied by Eijirou’s loss.
He brought light and warmth in the lives of everyone he met, and it was easy, so easy to let him in, let him love you, fierce and unfettered.
Welcoming Eijirou into your life was the most natural thing, and having him ripped from it so suddenly was bound to feel wrong. To anybody.
Katsuki feels a dull ache in his chest and tears pooling at his eyes, and tries to steady his breathing before it escalates into a full fledged panic attack.
Since highschool, whenever the nightmares felt too real to be fought with a hot chocolate and a light on the nightstand, Eijirou was there to fight them with him. For him.
All Katsuki had to do was knocking a couple of times on their shared wall, and the redhead would be at his door in less than a minute, rubbing his eyes and yawning, his pillow under his arm, mumbling “’M here. ‘S okay”.
And Katsuki would let him in, both physically and metaphorically, he would let him climb onto his bed and squeeze his arm and flood him with comfort.
They say love is supposed to feel like butterflies and a racing heart, but for Katsuki loving Eijirou felt like coming home after a long day, finally allowed to be yourself.
Loving Eijirou was a small living room painted gold by the setting sun, it was like eating your favorite popsicle on a scorching summer day, sweet and numbing and tinting your tongue red.
Eijirou wiggled himself inside Katsuki’s life gently, without any imposition, without asking Katsuki to change anything to help him fit.
He saw Katsuki for who he was, and the sharp words he used to hide his darkness never deterred him, never stopped him from showing Katsuki he that he was worth the effort, he was worth the patience, the kindness, the laughter, the love.
When Katsuki met Eijirou, he felt seen for the very first time.
He had fought so hard to avoid that.
Deku, stupidly perceptive and kind to a fault Deku, he almost saw right through him. Almost.
Katsuki managed to add a few more bricks to the wall he built around himself for protection, he managed to make his words a little harsher – the harshness directly proportional to his insecurity – and Deku finally gave up.
And then all it took was for Eijirou to take one good look at him.
All it took was a few months of pointy smiles and stupid hair and beginning to have some weird sort of Pavlovian response to the color red, to have his defenses shattered, to have this boy accomplish what everyone else failed to do.
He doesn’t think it will happen again. Not in this lifetime, at least.
Katsuki turns around in his bed. He doesn’t even know why he dreamed of that.
He wasn’t there when Eijirou… when it happened.
The last time he saw him was actually in that same bedroom.
It was almost midnight, and Eijirou had woken him up with a kiss to tell him he was leaving for his night shift.
He remembers smiling sleepily at his handsome fiancé, waving goodbye as he stood by the bedroom door.
He remembers mumbling that his ponytail was messy, and to lock the door on his way out.
He remembers Eijirou laughing, saying he will see him at breakfast, asking him to make his favourite pudding.
“Mmyeah, absolutely not” Katsuki had answered, hiding a grin into his pillow. Eijirou had snorted, knowing perfectly well that his pudding would’ve been ready by the time he came home.
Except he never came home.
Katsuki turns around again, grabbing his phone a second time and opening his gallery.
He hadn’t gone through Eijirou’s pictures since before that night.
He tried to, when he had to pick some for the funeral, but he started shaking so bad he had to go outside to calm down, and eventually Mina was the one to choose the pictures used during the function.
He still feels bad about burdening her with the task. He knows how much Eijirou meant to Mina, but he simply couldn’t do it.
Eijirou always said it was manly to admit you can’t do something, though, so he probably wasn’t mad at him for leaving it to Mina.
The last picture he had of Eijirou was taken only two days before he passed.
They were walking in a park in the neighborhood after a run, snacking on some pumpkin seeds, when Eijirou decided he wanted to feed the ducks. One of the birds didn’t take it very well when Eijirou got up to leave and bit his shorts, earning a squeaky yelp from the redhead.
Katsuki was laughing so hard he could barely stand up straight, but he still managed to snap a blurry picture of his increasingly panicked fiancé fighting with a rogue duck over some pumpkin seeds.
Katsuki starts laughing at the memory, tears of laughter quickly turning into droplets of sadness, of grief, of knowing that that moment will never come back.
That that person will never come back.
That day was not even a month before.
It took a little more than three weeks for his life to completely collapse in the exact way he feared the most.
And Katsuki wasn’t even there when it happened.
He just remembers waking up to his phone ringing, to Tamaki telling him to get to the hospital as soon as possible, voice terrifyingly firm when he told him he couldn’t tell him anything more.
He remembers throwing on a jacket and leaving the house barefoot, putting his boots on while on the elevator.
He remembers getting in his car and recklessly ignoring stop signs and red lights, making it to the hospital in less than ten minutes instead of the usual twenty.
He remembers Fat Gum, in his skinny form, clothes dirty and bloody and an utterly devastated look in his eyes. He was screaming something at him between sobs, and the only thing he recalls catching was a “sorry”.
He remembers shoving him out of the way, grabbing a terrified nurse, following directions, ending up in a waiting room with a doctor telling him they were operating, but the chances were slim.
He remembers sitting down next to a silent Tamaki, biting his nails and tapping his foot, telling himself that Eijirou was strong, way too strong for letting this get the best of him.
Eijirou was his unwavering horse, he promised, he promised that so many years before, and Eijirou always kept his promises.
He had lost too much blood. It was so incredibly simple, so incredibly human.
A building had exploded due to a gas leak, and during the rescue operation a pole went right through his back and chest. It was quick, it was sudden, and Eijirou didn’t manage to harden on time. It was so simple.
He was brought to the hospital immediately, Fat Gum and Tamaki right next to him, trying to stop the bleeding as much as they could, but they were human, and he was human, and when humans lose too much blood, they die.
They die, sometimes, on an operating table, in a cold, sterile room that smells like disinfectant and death, masked strangers hovering over them trying to stitch them back to life, trying to push their soul back into their body, with the man they love and that loves them in return chewing his hand to the bone in the next room.
They told him outside, in the courtyard. They knew who he was, and they were afraid he was going to lose it and blow the entire hospital up. Fair.
Somehow, he managed to control his explosions, which bloomed on his palms like orange flowers before withering away.
Like Eijirou’s life.
Like Katsuki’s.
He lived the following days in a haze, he remembers his parents, and Eijirou’s, and their friends, and the numbness.
For someone who was always too intense, not feeling anything was fucking alienating.
He felt like he was underwater, his hearing was muffled, his body couldn’t properly feel any touch, his own voice sounded like it didn’t belong to him.
The numbness terrified him. Just a day prior, he was feeling everything.
He felt happiness so strongly he felt like his chest was being set on fire, he felt anger, he felt pride, he felt annoyance, he felt love.
With Eijirou, everything felt like more.
The colors were brighter, the sounds were clearer, his emotions were so real he felt like he could touch them.
The numbness terrified him, yes, but what scared him the most was the moment when the numbness would go away and he would feel every little sting of pain piercing his heart like a burning needle.
He was a voodoo doll at grief’s disposal.
The numbness was a merciful gift from his body, but he knew that grief wouldn’t be as lenient.
And he was right.
That was why his friends coddled him like he was a child to be protected, because they knew.
Eijirou turned him into an open book, displayed for everyone to read, to slide their finger on every coffee stain, on every tear in the paper.
It was a good thing, it was Eijirou’s legacy, so that the people that cared about him could still understand what he needed, even if their eye wasn’t as trained as Eijirou’s, even if their hearts didn’t spend over a decade studying and loving every single one of his facets.
It was his love’s legacy, because Eijirou knew that Katsuki would never ask for what he needed, not to someone who wasn’t him.
Katsuki hugs his phone to his chest and lets the pillow muffle his sobs and dry his tears.
A moment before he falls asleep, he thinks he feels a familiar weight behind him, hugging him tightly and making him feel safe, the faint ghost of a kiss on his shoulder.
Izuku frowns at his phone, sitting down at the kitchen table.
“What’s wrong?” Ochako asks, worried, giving him his cup of tea, before sitting on the counter and grabbing her own.
“Nothing. Kacchan just texted that he didn’t pick up my call because he was showering” Izuku says. “Also that he’s going out without his phone, and not to freak out if he doesn’t answer”.
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”. Ochako is hopeful, hopeful that their friend is getting better and wants to let them know what he’s doing without them asking first.
Izuku looks at her like she doesn’t understand. “Babe…” he starts.
Ochako almost drops her mug and brings her free hand to her mouth.
“Shit.” she whispers. Izuku nods. “Yeah, shit” he agrees.
Ochako sets the mug next to her on the counter and shoves both her hands into her hair.
“Shit. I completely forgot it was supposed to be today.” she admits, hot tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.
She swallows hard and looks at her husband, who looks flooded with the same emotions as her: grief, worry, and so, so much sadness.
“What do we do, ‘Zuku?” she asks, voice small as her lip starts to tremble. Izuku shrugs.
“He wants to be left alone, and I get it. Today was supposed to be for them” he sighs.
“Let’s let him take what he can”.
The cemetery looks as shitty as it looked the day of the funeral.
It’s grey, and silent, and after sharing amost half of his life with Eijirou Kirishima, Katsuki came to love colors and noise.
He hasn’t been to the cemetery since the funeral. He hated himself for it, he hated not visiting his love’s resting place, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Katsuki tried, but every time he managed to make up his mind and get to the door, he started shaking so hard he had to sit down.
He was terrified of going outside, of leaving the only place where Eijirou’s presence somewhat lingered, of being reminded of how the world didn’t have Eijirou Kirishima in it anymore, and he felt sick to his stomach at the thought of seeing how it had the audacity to keep spinning even without him.
Or maybe, maybe he was terrified of getting to Eijirou’s grave, only to realize he didn’t feel any kind of relief, because that was nothing but a stone and some grass covering up a handful of ashes.
A handful of ashes that once was the person he loved the most, who is no more.
His mother had offered to accompany him, but he never accepted.
He wanted that moment to be just for him.
It's not hard to find Eijirou’s grave. It’s arguably the most well kept in the entire cemetery.
Katsuki knows that his parents, Eijirou’s parents, and his friends take turns to clean the headstone and replace the flowers.
There’s a little pink post-it that looks only a couple of days old, which reads "Today was a bit harder than usual. I miss you and love you forever - Mina".
/Yeah/, Katsuki thinks, /me too, Racoon Eyes/.
Katsuki sits on the grave cross-legged, pulling up his grey slacks to be more comfortable. He cleaned up today, literally and figuratively.
In the last week, he managed to shower three times. Or maybe four, which is totally not bad considering the way he’s feeling.
Even though one of those times was Sero quite literally dragging him to the bathroom, stripping him of his clothes while telling him he smelled like shit. Crude, but not wrong.
Katsuki rubs his fingers on the indents on the headstone.
He wanted to keep it simple, no picture – because undeserving extras didn’t get to look at his beautiful man – and no cheesy quote.
Eijirou’s existence was enough for everybody who knew him. The life he lived spoke for itself.
"Eijirou Kirishima – Savior”.
Katsuki dropped two silver bands on the grave, eyes locked on the simple epitaph, a lone tear joining the rings soon after.
“So, big day, uh?” he asks the headstone, forcing a smile on his pained face, before dropping his head and choking on a sob.
“I can’t believe I wore a fucking tie and you’re not even here to see it” Katsuki continues.
“I bet you would’ve put up your hair in that stupid way I hate just to piss me off” he jokes. “And you have me so whipped I would’ve still said I do”.
Katsuki slips one of the silver bands on his ring finger, leaving the other on the grave.
“Oi, Shitty Hair? I do”.