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The sprinklers had just went off. The grass was sparkling under the street lights, the small lights leading up the house illuminated the wet sidewalk and you could see their silhouettes behind the curtains in the living room window. Your feet felt so heavy and your heart — God, the muscle felt like a boulder in your chest. Some strangers had walked out of the front door, you didn’t know them nor did they you, and you felt their eyes as they sidestepped you, nicely stepping off the sidewalk and into the wet grass to go around your frozen body, but not nice enough to stop whispering, “Who is she?” “She looks so familiar.”
Did you look the familiar? Would they think so?
There was once an imprint of your body, flattened in the grass. You remembered when he picked you up from the lawn so gently, so careful like you would shatter if he pressed too hard. He brought you inside, up the stairs and onto the bed. You remember the water running for a little while until it stopped and he passed under the threshold of door into the bedroom. He just stood there — staring at the ghost that had possessed your body. His lips moved but nothing registered in your ears. He’d said your name — without hearing him, you know. You had memorized his lips; you could speak to him with just eye contact — fuck there was so much pain in his eyes. You lifted your arms and he tossed your shirt into the clothes hamper and he flinched. So many new scars littered your body. His lips moved again and you felt a wet drop on top of your head.
The war had taken such a toll on you both. He’d nearly died — please don’t leave me, you cried over his body when Edgeshot sat next to you. Katsuki’s head laid in your lap, your hands were covered in blood. You prayed to an empty to just let him live. Take me instead. You prayed and he lived but that night, sitting on the bed, sober enough to think about the water getting cold in the bathtub, you caught a glimpse of your face and you didn’t recognize yourself — you wonder if he did. You don’t think so. Sometimes you see him at staring at you like he’s trying to remember before —
Winter was coming. You could feel the chill in the air and see the brown patches of the grass that was starting to die. You wonder why he still has his sprinkles set. Maybe he hasn’t thought about it — maybe he just wanted to keep it alive a little bit longer until the frost came and layered itself on the surface.
One foot moved forward, the other itched to follow and the door opened. Red hair poked out, a smaller pink figure came a second after. They were giggling. Kirishima opened his jacket up for Mina allowing her to wrap herself in his warmth. They hadn’t noticed you and they both had blushes adoring their faces. Kirishima rocked Mina almost dancing in a circle when his eyes met yours. His mouth moved and you think he said your name by how Mina swirled around so fast he had to ground her. The smallest wave from you was the validation she needed to jump from the porch, her shadow dancing around in the streetlights before she pulled you in her arms.
”It’s been too long,” she cried in your shoulder and your arms wrap around her small frame. Kirishima disappeared back inside. “I missed you so much.”
She squeezed you and started to pull away but you only held on tighter. “Not yet,” you whispered.
“When did you get back?” she asked, rubbing your back. Yesterday. “You should’ve called me.”
”I slept at the cemetery.” The gravestones engraved with such familiar names — you didn’t mean to fall asleep really. Your throat felt raw from crying and Mina pulled back to look at your face. Her cold fingers soothed the puffiness under your eyes, still sensitive from the fabric of your jacket. She whispered your name and you shook your head. “I’m okay now — well better, I guess. It was nice — the rehab.”
She nodded. She understood. Mina smiled, a sparkle in her eye and smoothed down your hair. She was the first person you’d said goodbye to — the second hardest.
Your eyes snapped back to the porch when the door closed and there he was — the last goodbye, the hardest one to pull away from — the tear stains in his jacket, the crescent shaped marks in your palms.
Katsuki said your name and Mina stepped aside, a hand on your back pushing you forward. He met you halfway and the two of you grappled each other. Your face tucked into the crook of his neck and shoulder — deep breathes ghosting his skin — his hand on the back of your head, making sure you’re there and you’re solid. “Do you want to come inside?” he asked, whispering and you nod. He pulled away but still close when he took your hand. He closed the door behind him. The house was warm and still buzzing with the energy left from your friends. He led you into the kitchen — there was various bottles of alcohol on the island, you noted. He did too and started to clear them away. He doesn’t want to tempt you. “Do you want some orange juice?”
You nod. “I bought it for Izuku. Since Ochako had the baby, he doesn’t drink.”
”She told me she was pregnant the week I left.” Tears swelled in your eyes, you blinked them away before the traitors could fall. “So much has changed.” Katsuki looked at you then. He opened his mouth, but closed it. “I’ve changed. My face —“ you loosely gestured to the scar across the left side of your face, left behind during the war, “my heart has changed. I think it’s beating right now, but other times — I don’t know,” the tears invaded, “my soul — it’s so angry still.” His hand enveloped yours. Calloused and scarred but alive. “I haven’t had drink in six months.” The clocked chimed on the twelve. “On the dot.”
You meet his eyes then. Those vermilion wonders. “I’m so glad you came to visit,” he said. “I’m glad you’re home.” Katsuki smiled and you gripped his hand so tight. He pulled you to him, cheek to chest, “Not everything has changed. You’re welcome here. I’ve been waiting for you to come home — for so long, I’ve been waiting. I knew you would.”
You wanted him to ask more questions. Why’d you go? But he’s just looking at you, so lovely, so gently. You swallowed your words and look back him, trying so convey the same emotion in your eyes. It’s too much, you take a sip of the orange juice — high pulp. “You carried on without me.” You don’t mean it to sound accusatory, you don’t.
“I didn’t,” he said, voice tight. “I missed you — so much —.” He doesn’t tell you how Kirishima and Mina found him, screaming your name in the streets, hoping you were playing a childish game of hide and seek. How angry he was when Mina told him where you’d gone because why would you tell her instead of him; why’d you trust her instead of him. But looking at you in that moment, his hands cradling your face, your eyes no longer bloodshot, cheeks full again, he forgave you. He’d always forgive you. “You did what you had to do. It’s okay.”
It’s okay. “Can you hold me?” And he did. Carried you from the kitchen, up the stairs and through the threshold of the bedroom. He only released when he laid you down and crawled onto his side, then you were back in his arms.
He wouldn’t let you go this time.