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He stares. He stares like there’s no tomorrow.
There’s a magnetism in the air—an unfathomable pull that dominates his senses. Katsuki is but a feeble opponent, unable to control his own body. How can he, when Izuku is right there.
“And—then—after I—“
Izuku is right there, an arm’s length away and happily blabbering about something.
‘Something’, because Katsuki hasn’t been listening. He tones out the moment Izuku opens that mouth of his.
He cares, okay? Oh, he does, very much so; his own feelings deluged him to the depths, where the undertow grasped with a firm force.
“I think I can—blackwhip—“
If only the power Izuku holds on him is containable.
“—what do you—“
Mind you, Katsuki tries to break eye contact. There is no need to maintain it while this is a one-sided conversation. He could find something else to focus on instead.
The issue is, his surroundings have long distorted. His eyes capture nothing but Izuku’s luminous presence.
“Next Sunday should be—and—“
Katsuki attempts to break this god forsaken enchantment—this annoyingly frustrating spell Izuku casts on him. But alas; it is futile.
“—Todoroki could—I mean—“
The itch within him grows. It grows, and grows, and grows.
“But I guess—next week—“
Resist.
Resist, he secretly hisses to himself for the past fuck knows how long, but—
“—together—this wa—“
He slips into his personal bubble, as seamless as a shadow blending with the darkness. The motion mutes Izuku. Katsuki’s arms slink their way to his back, followed by the soft collision of their chests and Izuku’s trapped gasp.
Their bodies align perfectly—two puzzle pieces that click together in place. Katsuki’s heartbeat synchronizes with Izuku’s. Nothing but the steady, calm rhythm reaches him as he glues their cheeks.
“Keep talking,” he says. His hand travels up Izuku’s back then down again.
“H-Huh?”
He is sinking.
Oh, Katsuki is submerged in warmth that he wants to devour wholly. He moves his head left, then right—blond and green hair mesh together along the tender oscillation.
“K-Kacchan—“
Katsuki traces the curves of Izuku’s spine before he spreads his hand over his back. He stretches a hum, acknowledging his earlier call.
“Uhm, y—“ Katsuki tilts his head downwards, his lips brush against Izuku’s neck and kills whatever he attempts to say.
The soft gasp accompanied by Izuku’s shudder paints a smile on his lips. His reaction surges him with another wave of emotions; Katsuki embraces them at once. Why bother resisting, anyway?
During that suspended moment, nothing matters but the gentle pressure of his chest against Izuku’s and the heat it creates.
Katsuki’s hand finds its way up again, and he cards his fingers through green curls. He mourns the loss of Izuku’s voice, but he shouldn’t be greedy.
Every inch of embrace counts, a soundless song of connection and intimacy. If this is what it means to sink in an endless warmth—Izuku’s warmth, then he doesn’t want to see the surface ever again.
Izuku’s initial stiffness thaws within the embrace. He relaxes; Katsuki’s gentle caresses against his back act as a lullaby. When Izuku circles his arms around his shoulders, something within him melts.
God. Izuku is so unfair.
Does he even deserve it? Is he worthy of his acceptance, his care?
Katsuki doesn’t know. Instead, he gives him a light squeeze, which Izuku returns tenfold. It’s tender, it’s magical, it’s ethereal.
Every good moment comes to an end though, much to his irritation. Their embrace wanes as they lean back at the same time. When their eyes meet, time stops again. Sentiments hang in the air, calling for their owners to address them. He doesn’t, but Izuku—
Izuku is a little shit.
“Why—“
Katsuki plops his forehead against Izuku’s, interrupting. His eyes flutter closed. “Don’t ask.”
Why does it matter anyway? There was an itch, and he wanted to get rid of it. Simple.
An airy laugh fills the space between them. Izuku’s—light and joyful. Katsuki likes the sound of it.
“Keep talking,” he tells him again.
Izuku slinks his arms between his. He eliminates the space between them and hugs him tight again.
“Okay.”