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***
Just to be clear, Katsuki doesn’t believe in Christmas magic and shit.
Santa isn’t real, there’s no such thing as elves, and whoever came up with the concept of flying fucking reindeer needs to be shot, because what the fuck even - who decides to make kids believe in random shit like that. Katsuki hasn’t believed in that shit in years - when he was 6 years old, his dedicated ass decided to stay up for Christmas one year to catch Santa and demand for his giant miracles — like a freckle-faced friend to be his boyfriend, or for superheroes to exist in reality or something like that.
He succeeded of course, but that night, he was staring into red eyes similar to his own that belonged to the apparent Mrs. Claus and amber of the supposed Mr. Claus. It was disappointing, but not surprising. Katsuki had kind of figured at that point that some shit to Christmas just didn’t make sense, not enough of it added up.
And he doesn’t hate Christmas - the cheer in the air and the white of the snow and the warm, coziness and sugar crystals that dance across his nose is something he finds a certain pleasure in - guilty and secret and hidden, granted, but he feels it. Don’t tell anyone.
He just knows things like miracles and shit don’t exist.
Which is why he is completely fucking baffled by the snowman he’s pretty sure the neighborhood kids are slowly building in his front yard.
Katsuki has a theory - and this is top secret shit, so keep it to yourself - that something is going on with that thing.
That it’s fucking — alive or something.
Five days before Christmas, it snowed a fucking storm. 19 inches of snow — white and soft and pure as fuck. Katsuki had to get up three hours early the next morning and spent all of those early hours with blistered fingers from shoveling the fuck out of his driveway.
He drove off that morning. Nothing out of the ordinary, whatever.
Came back 8 hours later just as kids were tripping over their feet and the clumps of snow to get off his lawn, giggles and squeals and shit. Katsuki glanced over and a giant ball of snow sat on the left side of it. Perfectly round, sturdy as hell, large as fuck.
Alright, so the kids had skills. He hated them, they were troublemakers, loud, and rude as fuck. He’s had trouble with them in the past and he thinks all of them need actual discipline. But whatever, he won’t deny talent when he sees it. He wanted to see where they’d take it and there wasn’t much damage they could do to his shit — nothing that the snow hadn’t already done, really. He allowed it. Stalked back inside and made himself some tea to get to work on home shit and made a mental note to keep track of their progress. See how the thing turned out in the end, if they could finish it by Christmas. It’d be nice, maybe.
And that night, as he drew back his curtains to watch the snow fall, he saw it.
The gathering of snow. In clumps, rolling together all willy nilly and shit. Like it floated in the air, like an unknown force was using their weird dark magic to pull the snow together and create a sculpture or some shit.
Katsuki squinted, and got closer to his window for a better look. But the snow crumpled to nothing. Katsuki only stared for a few more seconds, glanced from one side of the window to the other, a little down his street. There was nothing. No sign of anything.
Must’ve been the fucking wind.
***
Four days before Christmas.
He was off that day. Fucking Deku came over to complain about relationship shit and the only reason Katsuki let him through his doors is because he promised to make his mint caramel hot chocolate and that was good shit, so fucking whatever. He’d suffer to bless his taste buds. It wasn’t all that bad.
And as Deku kicked his feet off at the door he asked, “Are you finally building your giant snowman boyfriend, Kacchan?”
“Hah?”
Deku dropped his shoes near the door and pulled himself up with a large, excited grin. “The snowman in process outside? It’s so huge! You always wanted him to be tall…”
“The fuck are you talking about?” Katsuki pushes past Deku to yank his curtains back and peer out the window at the snowman that now has an entire body, three huge snow clumps on top of each other. It’s perfect. He clicks his tongue and lets go of the curtain, shaking his head. “I’m not building it. The kids around the neighborhood are, I think.”
“Hmm? I ran into a few of them before knocking though, they say everyone’s tracking the process. Except you’re sneaky about building it. They never catch you in the act. And then I remember you saying something about a snowman boyfriend when we were kids, so I kind of just assumed that’s what …”
“Oi! Shut up about that shit, how do you even remember that?” Katsuki’s waves his hand in Deku’s face before he turns on his heel to look out of the window again. He frowns hard at the built body of the snowman, tilting his head to the side curiously. “ … And I dunno what the fuck they’re talking about. I’m not building shit…”
“Oh?” Deku’s rounding his way around Katsuki’s couch to get to the kitchen, his hum is loud and curious. “Then … who is building the snowman?”
Katsuki frowns even further. “ … No fucking clue.”
***
Three days before Christmas, when Katsuki stumbles out of his house at the ass crack of dawn — the thing’s got eyes and a nose and it’s facing Katsuki so he sees it immediately.
The eyes are weird as hell, one blue button, one gray. Katsuki has never in his life seen that on a snowman. Eyes other than black, let alone unmatching. But it kind of - works. Makes it look crystal-like and refreshing. The carrot for the nose is red and small. Kind of cute, but it looks like it’s staring into his soul. If he looks too long, it almost feels like he’s standing across from a person. Living and breathing and shit cause from certain angles - the face looks a little human.
Katsuki stares at the thing for a minute, narrows his eyes.
“You alive or some shit?” he asks as he shuffles his way around the snowman. “Who the fuck is building you anyway?” Katsuki reaches forward and presses his fingers against it. It’s - warm?
Hard and sturdy, too. Feels like it’d be hard to knock over. And the thing doesn’t have arms yet. Katsuki can only wait to see what’s gonna happen, how this thing is gonna come together. So he shoves his fists into his pockets and leaves for work.
Normal day, nothing out of the ordinary, whatever.
It’s when he comes back that night that things get fucking weird because — he can see the face of the thing as he pulls up.
Now, the thing is, it was facing Katsuki when he walked out of his house that morning. But now, it’s facing his driveway. Which means it changed its direction. Like it’s - fucking greeting him or something. And he’s already noted how fucking sturdy that thing is — it’d be a task to twist it and keep its same, perfect shape with the shifting. And it overall just doesn’t make sense.
But maybe it’s nothing. Maybe Katsuki’s just imagining shit, he’s not really sure. He’s tired.
And if he mumbles a “Goodnight to you or whatever,” to the thing, well - who the fuck’s around to hear it anyway.
***
Two days before Christmas, the snowman is dressed that morning.
Like, full on fucking dressed.
There’s a red and white scarf wrapped around its head and over its neck — large and fluffy. Where it hangs down on the right side is a creamy white, and the left side of where the scarf hangs is red. He’s got a red fluffy santa jacket with a white collar draped over him so he’s buried in the soft, silky fabric.
And right at the top of his head sits a reindeer headband, mistletoe hanging off the brown antlers and leaves shimmering in the sun.
The thing still doesn’t have a mouth, but Katsuki can’t help but feel like it’s upset and he doesn’t know where the fuck that feeling’s coming from, but it’s there and it’s overwhelming as hell and he can’t shake it — he fucking can’t. And maybe he’s insane for not wanting a damn snowman to be sad, but in a strange, maybe psychotic twist of events, he’s calling out of work anyway.
It’s stupid. It’s so fucking stupid but an hour later, Katsuki’s wearing a coat of his own and he’s holding two steaming mugs of hot chocolate with a small container full of sugar cookies. He quiets his mind for the time being so he doesn’t have to hear ‘You’re an idiot, go to fucking work, this is sad and pathetic, you’re being stupid’ the entire time he’s out with the snowman.
He plops down across from it in the snow, places one of the mugs in front of the thing and sips at his own hot chocolate as he chews on his cookie.
His eyes never leave the snowman.
Katsuki’s glaring as he takes another harsh bite of his cookie and throws back a splash of steaming hot chocolate.
“You my snowman boyfriend or some shit?“ he finally snaps, takes another bite of his cookie.
The thing looks like it’s staring into his soul with its white and gray button for eyes.
There’s a long line of silence before Katsuki’s speaking again, throws out an arm carelessly, “When I was 11 I was building one. Took me a fucking week to get it big enough — you remind me of it a little. Except for the different colored eyes - that’s weird as fuck. But,” he takes another bite of his cookie, chews through his words, “couldn’t get the fucking expression right. Always looked like a deer caught in god damn headlights or some shit. Fucking weird. You look like that, too. The fuck’s your mouth, huh?”
Katsuki swallows and stares at it.
There’s silence and silence and silence.
Katsuki takes another gulp of his hot chocolate.
“You gonna eat your shit? Deku left me some of that sea salt caramel syrup or whatever. Put it in to make it sweet. You seem like you’re fond of sweets.” He sniffs. “Or whatever.”
Katsuki’s met with more silence.
“I’m gonna be alone this Christmas,” Katsuki says. “Been having parties and gatherings and shit with my idiot friends, but. S’not the same as waking up on the day with someone. Deku’ll call. Eijirou too, probably. Mom, Dad. Not going home this year cause fuck that, right? I love them, but I just don’t feel like that this year. You know?” He finishes the rest of his hot chocolate and glares to the side.
It’s starting to snow, the winds are picking up and blowing harsh against his already burning face. He should go inside. This was a waste of his fucking time and he doesn’t even know what he was expecting to gain from this. He’s insane, probably. Maybe the loneliness on the holidays is making him lose his mind or something ‘cause there’s no reason he should think a snowman is alive for even half a second. It’s a pile of god damn snow.
Even so, Katsuki keeps talking.
“Do you wanna spend Christmas with me this y—” Katsuki turns his head and freezes. He’s immediately on his feet, mug slips from his fingers, chest tight as his breaths get quick, panicked. “What the fuck.”
There’s a cookie bitten off of, the mug of hot chocolate is half full — crumbs on the goddamn snowman’s face. What the fuck. What the actual fuck.
“What the fuck,” Katsuki whispers and he’s backing up, stumbling over his feet and the piles of snow. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up … Are you actually alive or some shit? No. Shit - that sounds - fucking ridiculous.”
Katsuki stares at the thing, and then lifts a knuckle to bite on between his teeth. “You did that on purpose. Waited until I wasn’t looking at you to eat that cookie, didn’t you? This some weird Christmas magic shit? Can you talk? Can you do something right now or no? Because I’m watching. Actually - let me — let me close my eyes.”
Katsuki slaps his palms over his face.
And then peeks through the gap of his fingers because he’s gotta try to catch something.
Nothing happens. Of course.
“Fuck it! Fine!” Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut and swivels around for good measure. “There! Now eat some cookies or some shit, come on.”
Katsuki waits and waits and waits, fingers fidgeting anxiously at his side, breathing a little too fast as he plays with his bottom lip.
And then he holds his breath as he turns back around, eyes searching.
Three of the cookies he placed in front of the snowman are gone and the hot chocolate is finished.
“Holy shit! Holy — holy fucking shit . This is real.” Katsuki gets closer and bends at his knees to stare at the one cookie left. He looks up at the snowman and his lips are tugging up. “It’s fucking real, isn’t it?”
It’s alive. This is like — fucking frankenstein or some shit. The frankenstein of Christmas - it sounds like a movie, holidays mixed with horror. That’s been done before but only in fiction. Katsuki’s living this shit, though and he was on point with his theory. Something weird and magical is happening and this snowman is alive.
This is a Christmas miracle of some kind.
His mind flickers back to Deku’s words and - well, he wasn’t wrong. When Katsuki was young, he did want to make a snowman boyfriend. He was set on it but he never got to finish it for whatever reason - but he did demand it from Santa every year. Threw a bottle with his wish in the ocean and everything for like 6 years. His boyfriend was going to be tall and pretty and perfect and sweet and — it was sad as fuck but it was still a thing Katsuki wanted at some point.
The fact that this is happening now - sure, this snowman isn’t his boyfriend or anything, but it’s - it’s magical. And his chest is fucking warm. And he is so gonna spend the rest of the day talking to his snowman.
He plants his ass back in the snow and talks and talks and talks and talks and just fucking talks because he knows his snowman is listening and it’s the fucking holidays — he’s gotta keep him company. The thing must be lonely, always standing in the fucking cold, watching cars and people past by and never getting a taste of communication and shit. He’s probably longing and - well, shit, Katsuki’s longing, too.
Katsuki goes back inside for more hot chocolate and Christmas treats and he turns around respectively for his snowman to eat, he doesn’t mind. He talks to the front door of his house and when he turns back around, the treats are gone and the cup is empty and he may be delusional but does it really fucking matter when his snowman somehow looks so happy?
No. No, it fucking does not matter.
He talks until it’s night, until it’s unbearably cold and no amount of layers are helping him keep the warmth.
“Are you fucking cold?” Katsuki asks his snowman, tugging his blanket closer around his shoulders. “I guess you’re - made of snow or whatever so it’s … Fuck it,” Katsuki gets to his feet, shoes crunching in the snow. He tears the blanket away from himself and drapes it over his snowman’s shoulders, even over the silk red coat he’s already got wrapped around him. “Just in case. Or whatever. You know?”
Katsuki’s freezing.
His snowman says nothing. Stares at Katsuki with his gray and blue button eyes, snuggled in his half-red and half-white scarf. It’s silent. But that’s fine because Katsuki knows he’s listening.
“There,” he whispers. “Stay warm for me.”
***
Christmas Eve — Katsuki’s gotta work.
It sucks, but he skipped yesterday and he can’t do that two days in a row. But he gets up early so he has enough time to talk to his snowman.
He’s got a plate of toast and eggs, seasoned to perfection and shaped into a nice little smiley face. It’s cheesy as fuck and he usually doesn’t do shit like this, but the only one there to witness it is a huge pile of snow in the end, so whatever.
Katsuki pushes open his front door with a plate cradled in one arm and a glass of orange juice in the other.
“Morning,” Katsuki mumbles, places the breakfast down in front of his snowman and stares at him for an extra minute. “Merry Christmas Eve. You’re - I mean. I guess this is an exciting day for you and shit, right? Have fun. Live it up or whatever.”
His snowman stares at him.
In Katsuki’s head - his lips would quirk up at this. If he had a mouth. But he does not and — he wonders what that’s about. But whatever. Katsuki looks psychotic and delusional, but again - it’s whatever. He doesn’t have it in him to give a single fuck, really.
Katsuki gives his snowman a single pat on his scarf-covered body, and then plays with the reindeer headband on his head. And then he’s leaving for work.
Katsuki tries to gauge how pathetic he is for thinking about the snowman all throughout the day.
Snow. Complicated water, something that’ll melt once the sun starts shining, has got a hold on all of his thoughts when he’s supposed to be in meetings and designing shit and making a living or whatever. The holidays really highlight how pathetic he is, but he thinks he’s crossed a line this year and he’s past the point of actually caring.
So, he does what he needs to do and thinks about going home, thinks about his snowman, wonders if he enjoyed the breakfast.
He’s dragged into some friends gathering after work, though, courtesy of Deku and his stupid boyfriend, Kaminari and Katsuki thinks it’s the only reason they’re having a party in the first place, since Deku’s never been fond of them before. Kaminari’s a party animal, though.
It’s not too bad. The food’s good and Deku’s happy and his friends seem like they’re complacent with where they’re at in their lives. It’s something Katsuki can’t say for himself, but he’s not bitter about it. It is what it is and he’s only, like fucking 28. He doesn’t need to be complacent, he isn’t falling behind or some shit. It’ll happen when it happens.
Or, that’s what he keeps saying with a sip of eggnog every time someone asks him about his life or a partner or settling down.
He doesn’t know how he feels by the end of he night - it’s a confusing mix of holiday blues and not giving a fuck. But he pulls up to his driveway and his spirits are lifted — then dropped almost immediately.
“What the hell?”
Katsuki’s rushing out of his car, shutting it off in like two seconds as he falls out of his car, his ears are ringing, everything is red because what the fuck.
Fucking kids.
There’s laughing and squealing, flashlights shoved in his fucking snowman’s face like they have the fucking right to be there, to be on his property and bothering the fuck out of his snowman — like his snowman wants that shit on Christmas Eve. It’s — it’s ridiculous. Katsuki’s shaking, his fingers are clenching and unclenching and he knows he needs to calm down before he starts throwing his knuckles at 12 year old kids.
“I’m serious! He was talking to it all yesterday,” he hears one of the kids say. “Something’s gotta be up with that. I swear he’s living.”
“If he’s really alive then why doesn’t he move right now? Make him move, make him do something!”
One of the kids takes their mug of hot chocolate and throws it forward onto the fucking face of Katsuki’s snowman.
Katsuki screams and he rushes over to where the kids are immediately dispersing at his shout.
“Fuck off! Fuck! What the fuck are you doing?! Get out of here, stupid pieces of shit! Jesus! Fuck…”
The kids push past him with giggles as they run away and Katsuki can’t even spend too much time dwelling on it because his snowman’s face is gonna fucking melt off. And it is melting, snow devolving and crumbling into its face.
“Shit, okay, okay - we’ll fix it,” Katsuki whispers and then he’s bending at his knees to cup snow in his bare palms and tries to stick it back to his snowman’s face, tries to rebuild what he can before it’s all gone — before it crumbles and breaks off and melts into nothing. It’s not working, though.
“They’re assholes. They’re fucking assholes,” Katsuki mumbles beneath his breath, shaking his head. “It’s fine. It’s fine. You’re fine.”
He probably looks insane but he doesn’t really give a fuck - he doesn’t know what the hell is going on with this snowman but the thing is alive or something. He’s not all the way sure, but he’s positive he’s feeling the burn of the hot chocolate on his face right now.
The new snow falls from his snowman’s face and only the brown crumbly snow is sticking. There’s most likely nothing he can do about it - the new snow isn’t staying and if he tries to replace the bit that soaked up the hot chocolate, the entire face will likely crumble and fall apart. So Katsuki lets the snow fall from his palms and he sighs.
His snowman looks fucking sad.
Katsuki adjusts the silky red christmas coat, pats down the red and white scarf and he tells his snowman quietly, “You’re still fucking perfect. Okay? You’re perfect.”
Katsuki’s lost it, but whatever. He doesn’t give a fuck anymore.
Not when he swears his snowman’s face shifts into a smile of some kind. He’s happy, Katsuki knows he is. And that’s really all that matters.
***
Christmas day, Katsuki has plans .
He wakes gets up early to start cooking up a fucking meal to surprise his snowman with. Roast and potatoes and corn and soups and five different drinks and shit — then some dessert afterward. His kitchen smells amazing and he knows it, he’s been going for hours and he’s had to open some windows in his kitchen to air out the smoke, to let in the cold wind. He’s cooking in his best robes and with a fucking smile on his face like he’s got a man that’ll come dragging out of their shared room all sleepy and cute and shit.
And Katsuki doesn’t have a man, but he does have his snowman and that’s — Katsuki could say it’s better than a man. His snowman deserves it.
It’s noon when Katsuki is basically with his food and he takes a small plate of meat and potatoes for his snowman to taste, just to make sure he likes it before he piles his plate on with food. He spends like, 7 minutes trying to decide on which sauce to put on the side of the meat. He goes with the lemon garlic, a fresh lemon on the side. And it’s perfection. So Katsuki pushes open his door, ready to serve and please and — he nearly drops his fucking plate.
He’s … He’s gone.
He’s gone, he’s gone, his fucking snowman is gone.
“What the … what the fuck,” Katsuki’s voice is louder than he means for it to be — but he’s panicking. He places his plate on the stand near his front door and storms all the way outside in only his slippers and robes, nothing else on, fists clenched at his side, jaw tight. “Where the fuck…”
He goes to the spot it stood and first, starts clawing at the snow, fingers freezing and shaking and flushed red with the cold.
He finds nothing. Not a trace of his snowman there, nowhere.
And then he searches the entire front of his lawn, storms around his house to look for him in back — he’s not fucking there and Katsuki’s head is spinning, his thoughts are running so fast, he’s heating up, he can’t think.
“Come back,” Katsuki hisses, nails pressed into his palms. “Fucking shit. Where the hell did you go?”
He feels pathetic with how much he’s getting ready to lose his damn mind right now, but it’s happening regardless. He wraps his robes tighter around himself and ventures out into the cold. He’ll knock on some doors and fight some fucking kids if that’s what’s going on here. They messed with him once — they’ve been messing with Katsuki’s snowman since before he was even a full snowman and they have the fucking audacity to pull more shit even after Katsuki screamed his lungs out at them. Like that wasn’t fucking warning enough.
If they need reminding — Katsuki can give them fucking reminding.
Katsuki looks like an idiot. An asshole. The fucking grinch when he knocks on each of his neighbor’s doors, demanding to know what the fuck happened to the snowman in his yard. He comes up blank - a lot of narrowed eyes and tight lips, not that Katsuki gives a fuck. And sure, Katsuki shouldn’t be glaring past the parents and at the children who are just trying to enjoy their holiday or whatever, but Katsuki knows the faces of the kids who were harassing his snowman.
And then he sees the one who threw the scalding hot chocolate and he immediately flares up, pointing a finger over the parent of the child’s shoulder.
“You need to learn a thing or two about fucking respect,” he spits and the woman — the owner of the home Katsuki is currently disturbing — jumps into action, yells over him, forces him to leave even as Katsuki’s yelling, “if you destroyed him - if you fucking knocked him down, I swear to fuck!”
The door slams in his face almost immediately after that.
And sure, whatever, Katsuki gets it, but he’s still fucking pissed.
Somehow, he stays out looking for his snowman for an entire 4 hours. He doesn’t know how that fucking happens, but the sun it beginning to set, the clouds are darkening as it’s nearing 5 in the night.
The entire day has sucked.
Katsuki can’t believe he’s actually fucking tearing up at a snowman that he — thinking about it — was most likely imagining communicating with. Shit like that doesn’t happen, Christmas magic isn’t a fucking thing and as he’s making his way back to his home in a drag, he’s wondering if he should get evaluated for a mental illness or some shit. Cause there’s no other explanation for it. Katsuki knows what he sees, but what if he can’t trust what he sees?
It’s stupid. It’s so fucking stupid but under his cheeks is wet and he’s shaking all over as he tracks himself through the snow and back to his house.
He hates Christmas. He fucking hates this stupid holiday so much.
Katsuki scrubs his arms over his cheeks, sniffles furiously with shaking shoulders as he pushes his door open with a huff. He’ll be able to sob himself a fucking ocean in the shower or something like the stupid, pathetic, lonely man he is. So lonely that he imagined some weird connection he had with a fucking pile of snow. He can’t even wrap his head around how sad and stupid that is.
At least it’s warm inside his house. The heat’s going - Katsuki set it to automatic - and it smells nice, like chicken and lemon and Katsuki’s food that’s usually seasoned to his liking. He’ll eat dinner in his bed by himself and curse the holidays for probably the next 7 years.
His throat is scratchy as fuck and he locks the door before tossing his keys on the stand near it.
And that’s when he sees it.
The plate that he left on the stand near the door - it’s nearly clean. Only scraps left. Katsuki blinks at it, and then he sees the water. It’s clearly melted snow, though. Katsuki can see the ice chips and bits of white, slowly melting in the heat of the room. A trail of it, leading to the fireplace and - and what the actual hell.
Katsuki panics, immediately.
“Fuck?!” Katsuki screams, mind running a million miles a goddamn second as he trashes his living room in search of some kind of weapon. He slams the glass plate against the stand so it breaks, takes the largest shard and aims it at the literal man sitting in his fucking fireplace. “What the actual — God! Fuck?! Get the fuck out of my house! Who the fuck even — how did you even get in?”
The man sits there and — and he’s eating fucking chicken. His lips are greasy and he’s got crumbs on his lips and Katsuki’s pretty sure he’s just bare beneath the large, silky red coat over his shoulders. What the fuck. What the fuck.
“You left your door open,” he says, shoving the last bit of chicken between his lips. And then - then he fucking pouts. “And I thought you invited me inside with the plate of food you left for me on the stand.”
“That wasn’t for you! That was - that was for my fucking—my snowman!”
“Your snowman,” the man repeats quietly.
“Yeah! And don’t you dare question that. You don’t have the right when you’re sitting in a random person’s god damn fireplace. My snowman is—”
Katsuki stops.
Cause now that’s he’s looking — really looking at this man — he can see how terrifyingly similar he looks to his snowman. How a person can look like a pile of snow is beyond him. But then again, his pile of snow looked like a person … And this guy’s got different colored eyes, blue and gray. His hair is white and red, split down the middle on their respective sides just like that goddamn scarf.
And on his face, right over his left eye, there’s a scar. A burn, more specifically. Right where one of those stupid kids threw hot chocolate at his snowman’s face.
Not to mention the reindeer headband that he’s tugging off by its antlers. Tosses it to the side and scrunches his rosy nose.
Katsuki drops the shard and his feet are carrying him forward, toward the fireplace as he blinks rapidly. He’s not - he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, but he doesn’t like it. Or, shit, maybe he does. He doesn’t know. He’s so confused.
“Tell me I’m fucking insane,” Katsuki whispers. “Tell me - tell me this isn’t real and I’m losing my god damn mind.” He’s shaking his head, cold fingers swiping through his blond hair. “You’re not my fucking snowman. You’re not — what the fuck.”
The man blinks and his head falls to the side. “I’m Shouto. What’s a snowman?”
“Shouto. Your name is Shouto. How do you not know what a fucking snowman is. I - like, what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to be with you,” Shouto says it easily, quickly. “I can’t remember what I was doing before seeing you everyday, though,” Shouto places his hands over his eyes and peeks through his fingers. “I woke up in the cold one day and you were there.”
“The hell are you talking about?”
“You fed me cookies and gave me hot chocolate. It was good.” Shouto’s scrunching his face as he crawls out of the fireplace on his hands and knees like a cat.
He shakes his head to get his different colored strands of hair out of his face. Clumps of snow are on top of his head, Katsuki realizes. Over his shoulders, his face and neck are wet. Like he was just in a damn storm.
“You talked with me all day and then you told me I was perfect even after this.” He points to the scar over his left eye. And then he pouts. “Those kids were so cruel … But you made it okay.”
Shit. Katsuki’s chest is tight, his neck, too. He doesn’t know if he’s actually breathing, if he’s really alive right now. Maybe he’s passed out in the snow somewhere, left for dead. That would make more sense than whatever the fuck is going on here.
“Yeah.” Katsuki swallows. “Yeah, I - I guess.”
Shouto places his palms on the floor on either side of him and tries to lift himself up.
He — fails. Completely crumples - his legs look like jelly by the way they wiggle and shake with his weight. Katsuki’s there in a second, though, legs carry him before he can even think, arms suddenly tight around Shouto, secure.
Shouto’s so fucking cold. He’s freezing.
And Katsuki’s right - he’s completely bare beneath that jacket of his. Shouto’s fingers are thin and just as cold from where they grip at Katsuki’s robe, he tilts his chin up to stare at him and smiles, a little. He’s rosy all over. His cheeks and his nose and at the corner of his pretty crystal like eyes. He’s like a delicate snowglobe. Katsuki keeps Shouto tight as he adjusts his arms to scoop him up properly. He has an arm around his back, another at his thin legs. Shouto is tall and lanky and incredibly light. Weightless.
“Okay?” Katsuki whispers.
Shouto blinks and then he roughly pushes his head into Katsuki’s chest, forcefully with a furious nod. He wraps his arms around Katsuki’s neck and squeezes so fucking tight.
“Yeah,” Shouto whispers back. “I’m okay.”
His voice is sweet, melts like snow under the sun in Katsuki’s ears and he smells minty and sweet and refreshing. He wonders what Shouto tastes like.
Katsuki’s heart is beating so fucking fast and he cradles Shouto even closer before he starts moving to the bathroom in his home.
He doesn’t know what’s fucking going on, but — he needs to get Shouto warm and give him a real god damn meal. Holy fuck. Maybe Katsuki is insane - maybe there isn’t even a man in his arms who is the epitome of Christmas — maybe he’s just this lonely and he’s making everything up to compensate for the vacantness in his chest. That makes sense. Insanity makes sense, he’s sure it’s on some side of the family, most likely his mom’s, he really wouldn’t doubt it.
But God, it feels so real.
Placing Shouto in his tub and deciding on the water temperature, and Shouto’s soft face, his rosy nose and soft hair. It all feels so fucking real.
It’s steaming in the bathroom cause Shouto apparently likes the heat and Katsuki takes a seat beside the tub as it fills, picks up that special holiday body wash Deku gave him for Christmas Eve at the gathering yesterday. It smells like sugar cookies and it seems perfect for Shouto.
Shouto’s nose twitches when he sees Katsuki squeezing it into the center of his palm.
“What is that?” he asks.
Katsuki can’t get over how god damn soft Shouto’s voice is. Quiet and timid but very curious. Flakes. Snowflakes. Falling, melting, dissolving. Some kind of gentle shit like that. Katsuki immediately softens and lowers his own voice, like he subconsciously doesn’t want to scare Shouto away.
“It’s, uhhh,” Katsuki lifts his cupped hand and stares at the soap poured into it like it’ll give him the answer or something. He mumbles, “It’s soap. It’ll make you clean. Make you smell good.”
Shouto’s head falls to the side, blinks prettily and speaks tall and proper, “Well, what does it smell like?”
“Like sugar cookies.”
Shouto smiles. It’s all teeth and he leans in excitedly, shoulders raising. “Like your sugar cookies?”
Katsuki laughs. “More or less, I guess.”
“Okay,” Shouto whips his head from left to right to get loose strands of hair out of his face and sits up straighter, shoulders high. “I want it. I would like to smell like your sugar cookies, more or less.”
“Okay,” Katsuki’s still laughing a little as he takes a loofah and lathers the soap from his palm over it. He squishes it in his hand before placing one hand on Shouto’s shoulder and rubs the loofah over his skin.
His skin is soft and milky and pale — like snow.
Shouto’s breathing very softly, quietly as he stares down at himself in the water, tilts his head like he’s trying to figure out what exactly is between his legs. Katsuki isn’t sure if he’s emotionally prepared to teach a snowman-turned-real-man about a dick and how it works yet, but he has to clean there, anyway.
He’s gentle as he glides the bath sponge down the side of Shouto’s smooth body, along his thighs, on the inside of them.
“Is this okay?” Katsuki whispers.
“It’s okay,” Shouto says back, just as quietly. “It feels nice, I like it … You have to clean here to make me smell nice.”
Katsuki shakes his head. “Only if you’re okay with it. You can do it yourself, if you want.”
“No, I want you to do it, please.”
” … Okay.”
Katsuki washes him all over, between his thighs and behind his knees and over his stomach and along his arms and then his pits, the back of his neck. Shouto’s head is tilted back, his eyes are shut gently and he looks like he’s sleeping. He seems so at peace, Katsuki’s in awe. He’s never felt so — warm and happy. He loves this. He loves this so much.
“Katsuki?” Shouto says. He lowers his chin and looks over his shoulder at Katsuki. He’s so - fucking soft. His lashes and his lips and his cheeks and nose just seem forever rosy. Katsuki’s chest is tight and he bites on his lip in an attempt to steady his heart, only hums as a response. Shouto licks his lips, takes in a breath. “What is your snowman boyfriend?”
“Huh?”
“You said that to me, I remember. You asked if I was your snowman boyfriend. What does that entail? Does that mean we get to spend Christmas together? Like we spent in the snow, eating sugar cookies and drinking hot chocolate? Because I would like to be your boy —” Shouto frowns, pulls at his bottom lip. And then he continues, “Your snowman boyfriend.”
Ah, fuck. That’s cute.
Katsuki quickly shakes his head, “No - Shouto. I - you’re not a … snowman anymore. You’re a person.”
Shouto looks thoughtful. “I am a person.”
“Yeah. Flesh and shit, I guess … You can be my boyfriend. Just my boyfriend.” Katsuki dunks the loofah in the water and squeezes it over Shouto’s back to rinse the soap off. “We can … We can - spend Christmas together,” Katsuki can’t fight his smile. His cheeks are high and he’s smiling with fucking teeth and he doesn’t know how the hell that happened. “We can eat cookies and drink hot chocolate and watch movies and shit. And you can - lay next to me. At night, when we sleep and whatever.”
Shouto laughs and it makes Katsuki flicker his gaze to him quickly. But it isn’t mocking, Katsuki isn’t even sure if Shouto’s capable of that yet.
“I want to sleep and whatever,” Shouto says, wiggling his shoulders. “At night. I would like to lay next to you.”
“Okay,” Katsuki nods. He grins. He laughs. “Yeah, okay.”
He finishes washing Shouto up and he wraps him in the fluffiest fucking towel there is. Dresses him in the comfiest night clothes he has, slides his feet into the warmest, fuzziest slippers. Shouto smiles and smiles and giggles and hums and it’s like Katsuki’s dreaming or something. If he truly is insane — he doesn’t want to get well. He likes this. He likes it here.
Katsuki’s really fucking curious about Shouto too, though.
He doesn’t know where he came from or what he knows or how — any of this even happened. He doesn’t know what’s going on at all. He gets part of Shouto’s ‘world’ in parts.
He’s - a snowman, Katsuki thinks.
Shouto keeps saying he melts away and then comes back every winter, says he has for 24 years and he gets bigger in size every time. Which means he’s 24. And he comes from a world very different from this one, maybe.
“Walk me through the process of what the hell happened again,” Katsuki urges, shoving another piece of chicken into Shouto’s mouth. He’s been feeding him all night. Shouto’s skinny and he must be starving and he looks — fucking cute when he’s eating, when he’s enjoying Katsuki’s meal. “You were out in the freezing cold and then, just —”
“Boom,” Shouto says - copied from what Katsuki had said earlier - “I was in fire and sitting in your fireplace. Oh, but before that, I was flying. It felt warm, but not the same warm as the fire. I was floating and then I was dropped off, sliding through something that was burning before I fell and landed in your fireplace. When I was flying it was cold, but I was in something soft. And I went up and down and up and down and up and down…” Shouto nods with all of his ‘up and downs’ and it’s cute as fuck.
But he shakes his head cause he doesn’t want to fucking believe it.
Cause Santa isn’t real except — except the process sounds a lot like what Santa does every fucking year. The bag, the flying, the up and down because of the damn reindeer, the fucking fireplace. Shouto sounds like a fucking gift. But that doesn’t make fucking sense because Christmas miracles and magic and shit doesn’t — that just. Katsuki stares at Shouto as he chews on his chicken.
“ … Do you actually wanna be here?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean — it kind of sounds like you weren’t given a choice. I don’t know.”
Shouto frowns. “I chose to be here. I want to be here with you. I could have stayed in the snow and I like the snow because it’s cold and comfortable. I would have waited to melt, waited to come back next year,” Shouto turns to Katsuki, his brows drawing deeper. “But I liked whenever you warmed me up better. I liked your warm blanket and your warm hot chocolate better. So I chose this.”
Something tells Katsuki he won’t be getting the full story out of Shouto for a while. But somehow, that’s fine — it’s okay, Katsuki really … he really doesn’t care. He can’t bring himself to, it doesn’t matter. Instead, he folds his arms over the table and leans forward.
“Shouto,” Katsuki says and Shouto raises his brows, leaning in almost automatically. “I have a gift for you, since it’s Christmas.”
Shouto blinks and then he quickly nods, frowning like he’s trying to focus.
“Okay,” he mutters. “Okay, Katsuki. I would like my gift, please.”
Katsuki snorts. “You don’t have to be all — weird about it. Calm down a little.”
“I am calmed down.”
“No - relax, Shouto. Your shoulders. You can just - sit there. Okay?” Katsuki reaches forward and places the tips of his fingers on Shouto’s shoulders, pushing them down. “There. Okay?”
Shouto slowly nods and he whispers, “Okay.” He’s still staring intensely at Katsuki, brows drawn hard. So focused.
“Close your eyes,” Katsuki whispers and he gets closer. And Shouto does. And Katsuki’s got his forehead pressed to Shouto’s, nose brushing against his. Shouto’s so cold. He’s so fucking cold, Katsuki just wants to warm him up, constantly. And then he brushes his lips against Shouto’s. “Are you cold, Shouto?”
Shouto nods, his breath freezing as it hits Katsuki’s lips. “Yes.”
Katsuki kisses him. Warms him up with his palms over his cheeks, nose sliding against his. He pulls at his lips and gets as close as he can to Shouto’s face to keep his mouth warm, to warm up his cheeks with his own, with his lips. He kisses him until Shouto’s lashes are fluttering against his cheeks and he’s pulling away — not all the way. Shouto keeps his head against Katsuki’s and when Katsuki opens his eyes - Shouto is smiling. Soft. Delicate. Beautiful.
He knows more than what Katsuki got out of him. He realizes it right then and there as he stares directly into the blue and gray of Shouto’s eyes, as he takes in the line of that smile. Katsuki suddenly feels like he’s been played. He doesn’t really give a shit that he has been, though. Not at all.
“You’re warm, Katsuki,” Shouto says, his smile knowing. He’s all the way there. He so fucking knows what the deal is. “You’re so warm and I was a little tired of the cold. You’re my gift and I hope I became yours.”
Katsuki wraps an arm around Shouto’s neck, and then another, and he keeps him close. Just to be clear, Christmas magic and shit is real.
Because 22 years later, Santa answered all 7 of Katsuki’s letters.