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Shouto joins the solstice celebrations when the bonfire is alight and roaring at the centre of the town square. The wood crackles with loud pops, mellowed by the music and the chatter of children running around, and as he stares into the blazing flames, Shouto finds none of the unrest fire once stirred up inside him.
The smell of burning wood tangles in the air with notes of citrus and cinnamon, replacing memories of war and destruction with happier ones—something that’s been happening often since the day Shouto decided to move here. It's not that he wants to forget—he couldn’t, even if he tried—but it’s refreshing, when things that used to trigger his nightmares take new life.
Shouto’s phantoms lay dormant now, as the fire warms his cheeks. He grabs a cup from the barmaid and drinks to new memories, eyes already scanning the crowd in search of his friends.
He spots Iida and Tokoyami facing off in a card game, and it must be quite intense judging by the faces of the old men that have gathered around them to watch. Momo is on the opposite side of the square, with Jirou hanging onto her waist under the amused gaze of their musician friends. Kaminari and Sero dance right next to them in a sway of inebriated steps and Kirishima, by the looks of it, is deep into an eating contest against that tall, blonde woman that lives close to the woods.
Shouto should probably join them. It’s the first time in a long while that he has someone to celebrate solstice with, but he can’t stop the disappointed way his heart clenches when he cannot find the two people he most wished to see. He knows Izuku and Katsuki are probably busy with the responsibilities that come with organising such a large event—having two people share the job of town chief doesn’t make it any easier. Shouto wishes he could whisk them away and kiss them until the night bleeds into sunrise, but he’d be content with just being close to them, helping with what he can.
They don’t owe him anything. Shouto knows this. They kiss him, he sleeps between them most nights, and they’re always so sweet with Shouto, so—caring. But Shouto never dared to ask if that meant anything to them, afraid that the answer might break his heart.
So it’s—fine. If they’re not here. He’ll survive.
He resigns and starts to make his way towards an empty bench, when a warm, calloused hand grabs him by the wrist, making him turn around in surprise.
“Running off already?”
Katsuki’s cheeks are a beautiful red when he grabs Shouto’s chin between his fingers and kisses him, slipping an arm around his waist, hot and demanding in all the ways Shouto adores.
“I couldn’t see you,” Shouto argues against his lips, and he doesn’t want to pout—he doesn’t—but it comes out whinier than he hoped.
“We had to rush back to the hall, Deku forgot the damn parchment rolls—sorry you had to wait.”
“You found him! Hello, Prince Shouto!” Izuku materialises right next to them, big, big smile and eyes glistening with joy. He throws his arms around Shouto’s neck and peppers a trail of soft, enthusiastic kisses along his jaw. “Would you like to join us for a dance, Your Highness?”
Heat rises to Shouto’s cheeks and it’s unfair, really, how easily he blushes for them. He never asked them to use his title. It wasn’t something he ever cared about—nevermind that he stopped seeing himself as a prince many years ago—but they seem to find some sadistic pleasure in how flustered he gets when they call him any variation of that.
He can’t help but nod and Izuku smirks, delighted.
He’s a surprisingly skilled dancer, effortlessly teaching Shouto the steps to a ballad the townsfolk seem to know by heart, and Shouto is dizzy with happiness, cheeks hurting from smiling so hard. After three full songs, Izuku spins him right into Katsuki’s arms, who barely gives him time to catch his breath. They dance some more, easy steps and turns that make Shouto’s heart flutter like the wings of a newly freed bird.
When he has to tap out, overheated in more than one way, he sits and watches them step on each other’s toes like kids and kiss under the beautiful glow of the flames.
Shouto is so in love with them he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
They tire out too, eventually, and join Shouto at the table. The music has slowed down and people are gathering into groups, and Shouto wonders what prompted the sudden shift in mood. His confusion must be evident in his features, because Katsuki promptly informs him that they’re all getting ready to throw their wish into the fire. Shouto looks at them, puzzled, and tries to remember if there’s a ritual he somehow forgot about—but nothing comes to mind.
“It’s the first winter solstice you’ve spent here, so you might not know this, but we have a tradition for the night of the bonfire,” Izuku explains, drawing patterns on the table wood with a finger, suddenly shy. “You’re supposed to write a wish on a piece of parchment—it can be anything, really—and then you throw it in the fire.”
He offers Shouto a pen and a piece of paper, which he wordlessly accepts. “Once the fire dies, the wind will carry its ashes and our wishes with them, and—hopefully—they’ll find their way to us and come true!”
“Oh.” Shouto has never heard of anything similar taking place in his own country, but it sounds like something his siblings would have loved to do. He stares at the yellow paper with intent, and Katsuki clears his throat.
“You don’t have to do it, if you don’t wanna,” he says, scribbling on his piece of parchment in minute, elegant letters. “I know you northerners have different traditions when it comes to these things, so don’t think you gotta do it just because—”
Ah, of course. This is important to them.
“No,” Shouto interrupts him. “I really want to do it.” His eyes jump from Katsuki to Izuku, trying to convey how serious he feels about this, and he sees them visibly relax, Katsuki’s face breaking into a grin.
Admittedly, Shouto struggles a bit to find something to wish for. He’s not been taught how to ask for things, never expects his wishes to be granted, so it’s difficult to put himself in a position where he gets to ask for something. He’s happy here—never been happier, if he’s honest. He gets to have things he never dared to hope for himself, but maybe—if there’s one thing he could ask for—
“You got one?” Izuku asks, encouraging, and Shouto nods with a small smile.
“I um—I haven’t seen snow since I left home. When we were little, Mother used to bring us out in the garden when the snow was fresh—we used to play for hours until I was too tired and Natsuo had to carry me back inside.”
Shouto remembers loving the feeling of snowflakes melting over his skin. He’d hold the palm of his hand out and watch their pretty shapes dissolve with the warmth of his body. When his mother wasn't allowed to go out anymore, sometimes he'd use his right hand to keep a few of them frozen—he'd bring them inside, just for her. Shouto had tried many times to make snow in the past, but his ice was never quite like the real thing, not as pretty, not as—delicate. Always meant to be a weapon.
He continues: “She couldn’t go out so much, after she got sick, but snow still reminds me of her.”
Izuku and Katsuki look at him with something indecipherable worrying their eyes, and Shouto can't help but wonder if that's the type of thing people usually wish for. What if you're supposed to wish for something useful, less frivolous? All of a sudden, he feels silly about his choice.
"There's probably far better things I could've asked for, less—selfish. More easily attainable too, but this is what came to mind first and—"
"Nothing wrong with being selfish sometimes,” Katsuki interrupts him. “You should do it more often, Princess."
"It's a lovely thing to wish for, Shou. Thanks for telling us." Izuku cups his face and kisses him, and his voice, his hands—everything about him is warm.
Shouto trusts them. He throws his wish into the fire, hoping it will answer kindly.
*
It’s not even a month after the solstice that Shouto wakes up alone in his bed.
His stomach twists in an unpleasant churn, because nothing good ever happens so late at night. Something must be wrong, and Izuku and Katsuki might need help. He doesn’t waste any time getting proper clothes over his nightwear and walks out of the bedroom in silence, a shard of ice safely held in his right hand.
The door to Izuku’s laboratory is slightly open, warm light spilling out of it together with a quiet murmur of voices. Shouto gets closer, enough to hear snippets of conversation.
“Woah, Kacchan! You got so many—”
“—nasty fuckers were hiding damn well, took me hours—”
“—think it should be enough for the whole town—”
“It fucking better, he—”
Shouto doesn’t know what they’re talking about, but he can’t barge in and ask what they’re up to. It’d be too much, and he doesn’t want to be too much. He scurries away, bare feet shuffling over the cold floors, and feels so foolish he wants to cry.
They’re allowed to keep things from him. He shouldn’t want more of their life when they give him so much already, not when they’re so good to him—not when they kiss him like they love him.
He’s restless when he gets under the covers. The bed feels too big, too cold. Only when they come back—smelling like bath oils but with a faint, lingering note of cold winter—does he manage to quiet down his thoughts enough to sleep.
*
“Shouto. Baby, wake up.”
A voice calls. Soft lips kiss his hands.
“’mmrgh.”
A warm body is still pressed behind him, and Shouto really doesn’t want to move.
“Wake up Princess, you gotta see this.”
That wakes him up just a bit, and the scene from last night comes back to him. He opens his eyes to the soft light of barely-drawn curtains, and he blinks a few times, focusing on Izuku’s excited smile. He’s almost jumping on his toes, already dressed in a simple shirt and a vest. Katsuki is wearing clothes too—the fur lining his neck tickles Shouto’s naked shoulder as he kisses him there. It’s so nice he almost asks them to come back to bed with him. But they seem impatient, so Shouto lets them button up his nightshirt and drag him to the window, barely standing on his own legs as he looks out.
He has to blink a few times to make sure he’s not inside a dream.
The town’s covered in white.
The children are running around the square, leaving dark footprints on the ground that fill up again as snow falls gently from the sky. This is—it shouldn’t be possible to have snow here, winters aren’t cold enough. Shouto opens the window in haste, and the breeze that bites at his cheeks is just so familiar—the smell just as he remembers it.
When he turns around, speechless, Izuku is in Katsuki’s arms and they meet his eyes with happy grins. Shouto can’t believe it.
“How?” He exhales.
“Well, I knew about weather spells in theory, but I had never tried my hands with them because some of the ingredients are very difficult to gather. But then Kacchan found this place—a patch where snow bluebells grow spontaneously.” Izuku blushes and gesticulates, and Shouto wants nothing more than to kiss his hands.
“And we were lucky enough that Tokoyami gifted us that petrichor obsidian for solstice—they’re so rare, and it seemed like the perfect occasion and—well”, Izuku gestures at the sky, and Katsuki intercedes.
“Since you said you missed it, we thought we’d bring a piece of home to you, Princess.”
In the past, Shouto often thought that keeping his reactions measured was the proper thing to do. He’d never let anyone know what he cared about, so enemies wouldn’t have ways of using that to hurt him. But like another ghost from his past, that thought crumbles in front of the weight of his feelings.
Shouto is so choked up he can barely utter a word, but he throws himself at them to let them know. He hugs them so tight he hopes they understand, because he’s not entirely sure if he knows how to explain why he feels so emotional about something like this.
“Oh, Shouto.” Izuku is tearing up—he often does, when he feels so much it’s got to come out in some way other than words.
“I’m sorry I’m being foolish, I can’t—I don’t understand why you’d do this for me,” Shouto says, and he’s sincere when he admits this is probably the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for him.
“Because we love you, stupid. And you deserved your first solstice wish to come true.”
And that’s—
Ah. Shouto never understood a thing.
“I love you too,” he says, face warm and heart full to the brim. “I love you both so much.”
“We know, Your Highness,” Izuku smiles at him. “You say it so often without any need for words. But let’s go outside now! The spell won’t last forever and we want you to enjoy it!”
Wrapped in Katsuki’s red cape, Shouto steps out and breathes in the fresh scent of snow. He lets it melt on his cheeks, and watches Izuku’s curls slowly dot with white. It’s a vision he never thought he’d get to see.
“I’m giving you losers ten seconds,” Katsuki screams, readying a few snowballs. “After that I’m coming for ya!”
Shouto can’t help but laugh. He thinks about his mom, his siblings. He thinks about his father too, and he hopes they’re happy, that solstice is as generous with them as it was with Shouto, even if they’re apart.