Work Text:
Katsuki stared at the box under the Christmas tree with hatred. Sadness. Hope. Uncontrollable excitment. He wanted to scream, cry, and laugh hysterically like one of those crazy girls in movies who always have a psychotic breakdown for no reason. The pillow in his arms gets crushed even more brutally and the roiling in his stomach never dies. It hadn’t in two weeks, the whole point of the small, unassuming green and red box. The perfect bow on top is a mocking reminder of how much he fret over it being perfect.
His T-shots had made him spotty and then irregular. Then, on a random Tuesday, it didn’t come, and a month later and it still hadn’t come. Katsuki was relieved, a burden had been lifted off his shoulders, but, more than that, he was anxious. It wasn’t supposed to be gone that fast.
He had gone to the doctor, scared out of his mind. What if he was dying? Or, were there complications with the hormones? Would he have to stop? The thoughts made him shudder, bringing tears to his eyes about the thoughts of being that again. So, he gave blood samples, and pee samples, and tapped his foot for an hour, waiting for the doctor to come back through the doors.
He didn’t expect the words that came out of his mouth.
He didn’t expect to walk in a daze home, making a stop at the convenience store for something he never thought he’d purchase.
He didn’t think he would be twenty, hurriedly peeing on a pregnancy test before his boyfriend came home from work.
He wrapped it in a small box, too scared to plan for anything else than the obvious- it was the 23rd of December, and his social media was flooded with girls doing the same. He even looked it up, “How to tell my boyfriend I’m pregnant,” and read a Buzzfeed article with a picture of a tacky Christmas tree. It was that or putting it in the oven, and that whole concept made Katsuki’s skin crawl with dysphoria.
So, out of sight, out of mind. He hid two pink lines with wrapping paper.
Now, Katsuki just had to wait for Izuku to wake up and stumble his way into the living room, rubbing his eyes in the morning light.