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“I know it’s not…what you dreamed of,” Hitoshi says, then shrugs, putting his hands in the pockets of his beat-up old sweatshirt—
That damn sweatshirt.
The gray one that Katsuki likes to steal and wear because it tends to smell like him. Useless, stupid, fool.
The one he was in that day when he came back to the apartment all bloodied up and pathetic and saying I love you while bleeding out, that fucking asshole. The same one he was wearing when Katsuki let them cuddle for the first time and of course Hitoshi never buys new clothes.
He doesn’t even know how to shop, like a proper normal person, and Katsuki has to do goddamn everything around here, and it’s so hard, it’s so so hard, it swings back around to gettin’ easy again.
He’s got that…sexy hair thing. Stupid cool guy piercing in one ear. The way he walks. Ridiculous. Who does he think he is?
Katsuki’s boyfriend.
He is Katsuki’s boyfriend. Standing there in Katsuki’s favorite sweatshirt with purple hickeys on his neck, to match his purple hair, that Katsuki gave him.
—and he shoots Katsuki a wry little smile. “I know it’s not everything you wanted. Better side of the deal’s definitely mine.”
“I hate you,” Katsuki says.
“Thanks.”
“No. Fuck you. Why do you get to decide what I want?” Katsuki glares at him, and hopes his gaze burns. “You can’t even cook grilled cheese.”
“I wasn’t trying that time,” Hitoshi says. “I knew you wanted to do it. Take over. You just can’t help yourself.”
And I love that about you.
It hangs unsaid in the air between them.
Like the other thing. Like Izuku, who Katsuki wanted to end up with, couldn’t get out of his head and still can’t, but this is different. Hitoshi is different.
Katsuki loves—
“You don’t get to decide what I want,” Katsuki repeats. “I am happy.”
“Yeah. Sure sounds like it.”
“Shut up,” Katsuki comes over there, intending to smack him, and ends up gathered into his arms, held against that fucking sweatshirt again.
It’s cold. Freezing really. What with the fog and the rain and the frozen dry muck coating both their shoes from the trek up.
Hitoshi’s warm. He is. Makes Katsuki get all fuzzy and heart-drunk dizzy and shit.
He’s just about made everything...fucking better.
Things were bad…before. Before Katsuki kissed him last New Year’s, because he could, and because he was hurt, and his best friend in the whole world, his soulmate, didn’t like him like that. And Hitoshi let him. He made it fun.
Then things changed.
First Hitoshi made it tolerable, and then he made it good. And now…now it’s pretty damn great.
Katsuki’s not gonna say I love you. He’s not the type. And he’s not bleeding out at the moment, which is the only way he could say it and make it fair. But he can assert that he has the better side of their deal.
“Hey. I always win,” Katsuki straightens up, punches Hitoshi in the shoulder hard enough to make him take a step back. “Always.”
Hitoshi smiles a bit.
Genuinely, it’s cute. “Calling me a loser can’t be your answer to everything.”
Bullshit. “Yes, the fuck, it can.”