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It’s 10 pm and Katsuki is wired, caffeine flowing through his veins. The flurries of snow have died down and it’s quiet, bird chirping no longer present. After a long shift at the cafe, he typically tries to massage away the pinches of irritation with a walk on the beach. He lives right by the water, and although it’s a bone-chilling night, the sand collecting between his toes grounds him. Katsuki runs through his shift in his head like clockwork, faceless customer after customer, but he stops at the group of teens that flew in right before they closed. Bright smiles and linked-up hands pass through his mind. They’re close, connected in a way that only time can bond, and he envies them for having such a relationship.
He envies them for not yet knowing rejection.
A sniffle throws Katsuki out of his thoughts and he looks up to see a full head of green hair, luminescent in the moonlight. The man is sitting close to the water, puffy coat on but shoes forgotten somewhere by the sea. He can’t look away, admiring the beautiful creature in front of the waves. He looks small, almost engulfed by the night sky. Katsuki has learned time and time again that the more he looks the other way, the less trouble he’ll run into. For some reason though, the sobs of sorrow remind him of all the times he did the same, the soundtrack of crashing waves covering his tears. He always hoped someone would see him, do something. The cries push Katsuki into action, walking towards the man and crouching down in front of him before he can even think.
“H-hey, are you okay?”
The man startles before looking up at Katsuki from folded arms on his knees. They both gasp, stunned by one another. His eyes are beautiful, the green holding a shine comparable to diamonds and Katsuki leans in to get a closer look, spotting the light gold specks on the side of his pupil. They’re lost in each other, frozen in time. Another sharp intake of breath from the other surprises Katsuki and he shoves himself back, taking in the man’s full face.
His jaw is soft but structured, cheekbones dusted with freckles, licks of tan speckles against pale peach skin. His eyes match his sharper nose and plump lips, and his strands of hair hang low, covering his eyebrows. Even with the trail of salty tears flowing down his cheeks, he’s a heavenly sight.
He sniffles before taking a sleeve and wiping it across his face, and Katsuki stands to dust himself off, trying to give the man more room. Katsuki offers his hand, and he expects a flinch, a slap of the hand, anything. Instead, the green-haired man shyly takes it, letting himself be pulled to his feet.
“Sorry.” Another sniffle. “It’s just… it’s been a really rough day. I don’t normally do this when people are around, but sometimes I just need to sit somewhere and think. Not to say I just lay around and never solve my problems, but it’s been really frustrating, and I feel like I can’t do anything right for anyone, which I know isn’t true, but right now it feels like it’s all gone wrong. I know you probably don’t even care about any of this…”
Katsuki can’t exactly follow all that the man was saying. But he wants to know more. Normally he can’t talk to anyone like this, save for a few close ones, with his erratic heartbeat stopping him before he can even approach someone. For some reason though, his heart is pulling him to this magical man with forest green hair that stands with a slight slump. The man who can’t stop rambling to save his life and doesn’t flinch away from him. With a slightly amused smirk, Katsuki puts one hand on his shoulder and he stops immediately, clamping his mouth shut and craning his neck to look at the hand. He blushes and his shoulders meet his ears with nerves.
“I’m sorry, I tend to do that. I’m told it can be overwhelming.”
“S’okay, you look like you needed it.” Katsuki squeezes the shoulder once before pulling away, putting his hands in his coat pockets. “You like diner food?”
Feet crunch through the leftover snow on the path to a 24-hour diner down the road, one where Katsuki spends his spare time. The servers greet him like an old friend, then give him a sly smile when they see the shy, freckled man trailing behind him. They settle into their booths, Katsuki kicking his feet up as he tells the server his order. When she walks away, he settles his chin in his palm.
“ ’m Katsuki, by the way.”
His name is Izuku and he lives about walking distance from the beach, the same as Katsuki. They’re the same age, and in his free time, he likes to knit scarves as gifts. He gives everyone a nickname in his head, his favorite food is waffles, and he will gladly sign away the rest of his paychecks to go to this diner if it means getting good waffles like this every day. When things get tough and he needs to run away for a while, he goes to the beach. Sometimes that means journaling by the rocks, other times it’s sobbing until he can’t feel anymore.
“It sounds so dramatic, but sometimes I feel like I’m drowning,” Izuku says. “My feet can’t touch the water and my hand is in the air for help, but no one can see me, or no one wants to. Sometimes I need to pull the plug and start over.”
And Katsuki gets it. Today is a good day for him, whether that’s because of the medication or not. But on the days when it’s not, when he pulls the ashy blond hair from his scalp and feels the tracks of his fingertips on his arms and no one can hear him, he’s in space. Suddenly he’s in a vacuum and he’s floating through events, conversations, everything. He’s looking through a portal at himself, but he can’t make the connection to be one with his body.
He’s still working on how to get through those days.
“I get it, trust me,” Katsuki says. “It’s the reason I don’t do the whole socializing thing too often. Shit sends me into a whole different world sometimes.”
Izuku glances up from his bite of waffle and cocks his head to the side.
“You mean you don’t just go around picking up random guys on the beach as a hobby?” He giggles into his water.
Katsuki’s face goes pink, but he looks Izuku in the eye, unafraid to face a challenge.
“Only nerds like you. Who even wears a giant coat like that? You look like a waddling penguin.”
Izuku puts his cup down, smiling and barely holding in his water before swallowing, and a laugh rings throughout the diner. It’s loud and obnoxious, but Katsuki finds it endearing, snort and all.
“Mean, Kacchan,” he says, pouting and looking away to the window beside them, only to meet Katsuki’s eyes in the reflection.
“Kacchan, huh? That’s the special name you picked for me?” Katsuki puts his feet down under the table and bumps his knee against Izuku’s. Izuku goes red and Katsuki almost pulls away, apology burning on his tongue before he sees Izuku distracting himself with more waffles, pulling at his turtleneck. Katsuki smirks at the reaction.
“You sure you don’t do this often?” Izuku asks the question in a joking manner, but the energy is full of hesitancy and a slight tinge of insecurity. Katsuki goes to smooth it away immediately, hooking his ankle with Izuku’s, intertwining them both.
“Nah, ain’t too many people worth my time.”
“...How do you decide who’s worth your time?”
“Hmm?” Katsuki looks up from his one cup, one eyebrow raised.
“How do you know when someone’s meant to be in your life? W-what if they’re too strange?” Izuku’s voice wobbles. “We’re all so different, how do we decide that someone’s not too different?”
Izuku bites his lip and looks down at the table, hands fidgeting. Katsuki’s reminded of a time before he decided to give up on after-school hangouts and loud all-nighters. He doesn’t want to give Izuku the same answer he gave himself all those years ago, the question of how someone can belong when no one wants to see them.
“They fight for you,” Katsuki says. “They don’t care if you’re too loud or don’t know how to express certain things. They accept that as a part of you and defend it with everything they have.”
A tiny smile cracks on Izuku’s face and he shies away, looking off to the corner.
A comfortable silence hangs over them and when the check comes, Katsuki places some bills from his wallet on the tray before giving it back to the server. Izuku’s eyes are on him, gawking at the audacity for him to pay, but Katsuki waves it off.
“I invited you, dumbass,” he mutters more to himself than Izuku. Izuku grabs his hand, smiling softly.
Katsuki’s unsure what to do next, having exactly three dates under his belt, with only one that made it to the bill. Door after door after door has been shut in his face, and with every door came a deeper snarl, and a rougher growl. He sees groups of friends walking down the street, nicknames thrown in the wind. He notices when someone picks up soup from his job to deliver to a coworker. With every interaction he grows that much meaner, masking the loneliness and rejection that never stops stinging.
Here, though, he’s comfortable–no, invited. There are no tears. He doesn’t need to keep his head down. He can joke without seeing a flinch. Izuku does the exact opposite of what he expects and Katsuki’s in awe of how and why.
Katsuki pushes aside his cleared plate and opens himself up, hoping Izuku will take him in.
“Growing up, I wasn’t exactly the nicest kid.” He flinches, waiting for a sign of agreement, but all he receives is an understanding nod to continue. “My old hag used to yell about how much she loved me and how much of a disappointment I was in the same sentence. Obviously not the best thing to do to a kid. Other kids didn’t like how loud I was, thought I was scary, so they didn’t come around much. Fucked me up pretty badly, I think. Went to a shrink in college. She was…different.”
“What was so different about her?” Izuku asks.
“She wasn’t afraid of me, one of the only ones outside of my parents. Didn’t care if I yelled or glared. She actually suggested I go to this group therapy thing and that’s where I met Shitty Hair and his group. They try to talk to me in group sometimes.”
Izuku’s eyes sparkle with wonder and curiosity.
“Kacchan, that’s amazing that you found so many lovely people.”
A tsk fumbles out of his mouth before Katsuki even knows it. “ ’s no big deal, just a couple of people with nothin’ better to do.” His act is impeccable, walls put up high to protect himself and others. But when he feels the hand from across the table squeeze his own, it falters.
“Don’t downplay it, Katsuki.” Izuku gives him the warmest smile he’s ever been on the receiving end of, teeth sparkling and gums barely visible. “You’ve built some amazing relationships and I’m so proud of you. Even if they’re not there 24/7, they’re still meaningful.”
Katsuki had no idea it was possible for a stranger, an unknown being, to take his heart before he even knew he gave it away. He’s flustered and he takes extra care to stir his coffee before he continues.
“W-what about you? I’m sure you got loads of friends with that peppy attitude.” Katsuki receives a somber smile and Izuku’s hands fidget again, unintentionally squeezing Katsuki’s fingers.
“Hmm, I spend a lot of time with my mom. I have these childhood friends, Uraraka and Iida, but they’re dating so…”
“Don’t wanna be the third wheel?”
“Yep. Honestly, though, I’ve always been the odd one out. I write in my notebook all the time, I mutter to myself when I think, and I don’t exactly give off an air of popularity. It wasn’t a question of if I was going to be picked on, but more how they were going to do it. Some were temporary, others were a bit more permanent.”
Katsuki unconsciously strokes his hand, feeling the rough and soft patterns that stripe his skin.
“Anyways, I kind of keep to myself now, it’s easier this way. Eventually, you get used to people not reaching out to you. Plus, my mom doesn’t worry as much.” The smile doesn’t reach Izuku’s eyes and Katsuki grasps the opportunity to reassure the man that accepted him so easily when he reached out.
“...Izuku, you know, you don’t have to hide.” Izuku cocks his head to the side, but Katsuki continues. “You have some pretty brilliant thoughts up there. I’m sure there are some people out there that would gladly take them in.”
“And how do you know that, Mr. Kacchan?” And Katsuki gives Izuku a cocky smile before pointing to himself.
“You’re looking at contestant number one right here.” Izuku lets out a soft snort. “You’re quirky, sure, but that’s not a bad thing. Keeps you interesting ‘s all. And anyone who doesn’t like it can take a hike. You have a place, I know it.” Katsuki takes in a breath. “The real ones will fight for you, Zuku.” Katsuki’s face is flush and his eyes dart around to look anywhere but Izuku’s eyes. When he does, Izuku wears a face of disbelief, tears welling up in his eyes. He blinks them back and shakes his head with astonishment.
It’s quiet for a long time, both men sitting with their thoughts.
“Kacchan,” A soft hum comes as his response. “Do you think it’s possible to feel at home with someone you barely know?
Katsuki pauses. He wants to say no, he wants to say that belonging is hard enough when you know the person, why would he want to make it even more difficult? Instead, though, he thinks about how even on this god-forsaken planet, he still met this ball of sunshine, someone who makes it feel like he’s going to be okay, even if it’s not right this second; Even if he isn’t okay himself. Katsuki feels comfortable, and for once he’s not worried about whether or not someone will understand his jumbled thoughts, or if someone will see him as a person who’s unkind to others. For this moment, he can just…be.
“Yeah, Izuku. If you find the right person.”
Izuku’s smile is blinding before he covers it with their joined hands, lightly pressing his lips to Katsuki’s knuckles.
Katsuki’s not a person to put himself in a position to comfort a stranger. He’s not. But the man in front of him, the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, opposite soul of himself, makes him want to be better. He wants to be closer, learn more, press himself into every crevasse, nook, and cranny. Why, even though they’re two sides of different coins, do they experience the same feelings of being too much and not enough for some? What did he go through to know the feeling of oxygen becoming a luxury, of sliding off a never-ending cliff, of skin and hair becoming valid removable pieces of themselves in times of need? Katsuki wants to make it better for Izuku, he wants to take away every ounce of pain, even if he doesn’t know how to make it better for himself yet.
He doesn’t want the night to end, he doesn’t want Izuku to leave, he realizes. For the first time in a long time, someone’s looking at him, really seeing him, and he’s looking right back. From the way that Izuku shifts in his seat and worries his bottom lip, Katsuki can tell he’s feeling the same way. They found each other somehow and they fit together, a sense of belonging lingering in the background. Katsuki takes a quick look at his watch and decides that sleep isn’t a necessity. Not when there’s someone he can pour that time into and make something new, even if it’s fleeting.
They stay locked into place, ankle to ankle and hand in hand, sipping hour-old coffee and putting their mugs to the side when they’re looking for a refill. Katsuki becomes only vaguely aware of the sun rising from their window. Izuku gives him a shy smile, raising their intertwined hands.
“Shall we go?”
They don’t part ways at the door, outside the diner, or even on their walk home. Instead, they walk back to the beach and take a seat, butts parked on the sand. Katsuki takes in a breath, feeling the air hit his lungs and fill his body.
“Izuku.”
“Hmm?”
The sun is barely over the horizon, coexisting with the moon. Those eyes are staring into Katsuki’s soul, sparkles of light presenting themselves and Katsuki leans in close, fingertips sweeping against Izuku’s cheekbones. His eyes flutter shut, and his cheeks gain a pink hue, freckles becoming more prominent. Katsuki’s lips hover over Izuku’s, breath ghosting over his face. Soft, chilly lips meet in the middle and Katsuki hangs on, Izuku pulling him in for another chaste kiss.
When they separate, Izuku bites his lip nervously, but his gaze is still on Katsuki, not shying away one bit. Katsuki huffs a laugh before reaching for his hand, grains of sand sticking to them both. He links their hands by their fingers and he blows air upwards, breath tickling his nose.
Ah. So this is home.