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It’s only a matter of time.
Before long, the entrance exam results will be revealed—before long, Katsuki will leave this place without looking back. Kariage will fade into a mere distant memory, another indistinguishable visage from a crowd. Contrarily, all he’ll be left with are memories, nothing ahead to anticipate. He'll be remembered as the guy who peaked prematurely; his sole accomplishment being that he attended the same junior high as Bakugou Katsuki.
Their friends seem to think that Katsuki's application to U.A. somehow elevates their status by association.
The reality is much harsher. In comparison to Katsuki, they are insignificant. There's a vast chasm separating them, almost like different worlds. Katsuki stands out distinctly from Kariage and the rest of their peers. He displays genuine potential; he'll likely fulfill all his aspirations and more. Any semblance of friendship they cling to will dwindle into a one-sided, parasocial connection behind a screen. Katsuki's face will be everywhere: in Kariage’s starkly lit living room, on the TVs of the yakiniku restaurant where he works, in the display windows along the streets, blown up on the city’s expansive jumbotrons.
As Katsuki gradually forgets their faces, the way their names roll off his tongue, Kariage will be surrounded by reminders of him wherever he goes.
Takumi has already begun harboring resentment. Something shifted after the sludge incident, perhaps the guilt from fleeing, an effort to ease his own conscience. Whatever the reason, He started speaking ill of Katsuki in his absence. Envious and filled with animosity: Katsuki doesn’t deserve it. What sort of hero has a personality like that?
Sometimes, Kariage feels the urge to hit him, but he lacks the justification. After all, he fled too.
On his apartment balcony, he curls his fists, listening to the cacophony of his older brother and his washed-up friends in the living room. They lounge about, drinking and idling away, the sound of shattering glass punctuates their swearing. It might have been embarrassing if Katsuki hadn't visited his place countless times before. Now, the noise of adults grasping at their fading youth blends into the night's tranquility.
While Katsuki leans against the railing, gazing at the underwhelming view, Kariage finds himself unable to look away. The subtle incline of his body as he rests his chin on his forearm. The light dancing over the contour of his nose, the curve of his brow; the gentle breeze tousling his clothing. He seems at peace, different from the burdened demeanor he carries at school. Now that they’ve graduated, perhaps some of the tension has dissipated, and he’s become less rigid.
“Hey.”
Katsuki doesn’t respond, offering no indication that he's listening, but Kariage knows that he is.
“You saw Deku at the exam, didn’t you? How did that go? You never said anything about it.”
He feels hesitant to ask. Katsuki behaves differently when it comes to Deku. Recently, he's been even more peculiar about him, hypersensitive. Kariage isn't sure how he feels about that, or why he feels anything at all. Deku is an easy target, someone who practically invites ridicule. Sometimes, Kariage can't help but pity him, and while everyone has teased Deku before, Katsuki’s treatment of him is distinct—more personal.
The ensuing silence doesn’t come as a shock, nor does the subtle twitch in Katsuki’s hand, hinting at an underlying impulse. Kariage’s fingers reach for a cigarette, ducking to shield it from the wind, then he hesitates, “You mind?”
Katsuki’s disapproval is clear as he clicks his tongue, shoulders remaining tense, still affected by the mere mention of a name. "Whatever," he mutters dismissively.
“Cool," Kariage says, lighting the cigarette and inhaling deeply. They rarely find themselves alone like this, but recent events have exposed their friends’ true colors—they’ve started to distance themselves from Katsuki, as if he wouldn’t naturally drift away, as if Katsuki would even spare them a second thought. Despite their naivety, Kariage supposes it’s a wise move, severing ties before they’re cut loose, like a dog chewing through its chain to escape from abandonment.
"So, no word yet?" he asks. It's an itch he can't resist scratching, the impulse to delve deeper, to glean as much information as possible, hoping Katsuki will feel generous enough to throw a bone.
“Nah, but I’m not worried,” Katsuki responds with calm assurance, his arms casually draped over the railing. Kariage detects the sincerity in his words; he believes him.
“Deku..he did take the exam, didn’t he?”
Katsuki scoffs. “Yeah, tried to, at least. No way they’ll accept him.”
"Yeah, you're probably right.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
A tinge of irritation settles on Katsuki’s face. “What are you gonna do?”
"Ah, well," Kariage sheepishly scratches the back of his neck, keenly aware of his own mediocrity. "I'll probably just get my high school diploma and then focus on the restaurant. Not much compared to what you've got going on. Hell, at least Deku's shooting for the stars, right?"
“It’s a living, ain’t it?”
For a moment, he wonders whether this is Katsuki’s skewed form of compassion. The sounds of drunken commotion seep through the slightly ajar door. Kariage awkwardly bows his head, plucking the cigarette from his lips and exhaling. “Yeah,” he agrees, letting the conversation dissolve into nothing. Katsuki didn’t come over to hear him bitch and whine.
Why did Katsuki come over?
Something ugly and selfish claws at him as he steals a glance at the boy, it gnaws at his gut and knots up his insides. It's selfish, but he craves a proper goodbye, something to mark the end. He can't demand that Katsuki remain here and serve cuts of meat alongside him for all eternity; it would be unfair. And even if he had the audacity to ask, Katsuki would never agree to something so outlandish.
It sends his train of thought careening off track, spiraling into a different direction: If Katsuki somehow managed to find a girlfriend during all the years their classmates had spent and grown accustomed to one another—would he have listened to her if she pleaded with him to stay by her side? Katsuki never directed his attention where it was expected; he never cared about things most boys their age did. It once filled Kariage with deluded hope, but now he knows better. Katsuki would never spare something as precious as his time.
Despite his efforts to convince himself of this, the glimmer of hope refuses to dim.
Kariage is selfish, following the crowd and pushing others down to feel a sense of belonging. Albeit, he doesn't strive to fit in with any particular group of people. There's only one person he's ever truly wanted to impress. He's gazing at him now, longing for a single moment that will linger in his memory. Something to hold onto when he's inevitably faced with meeting Katsuki again, only through a screen.
Katsuki's sigh jolts Kariage from his reverie as he snatches the cigarette from him, taking a deep drag without preamble. Regardless of his effort to brush it off, it's evident that this isn’t typical for Katsuki when he stifles a cough. It’s idiotic, stubborn in its familiarity, yet strangely endearing, prompting a smile from Kariage as Katsuki succumbs to a coughing fit.
“Fuck,” he sputters.
Kariage grins, rubbing his back. “No need to hold it in, y'know. You can’t be good at everything.”
Katsuki narrows his gaze, though the teary sheen softens him around the edges. “Shut up, yes I can,” he retorts, pressing the filter to his lips again, the embers flaring as he inhales the smoke. This time, he manages not to cough, looking strangely proud of himself.
The sight is amusing, and Kariage feels a sense of contentment as he rises to his feet, his chest tightening when Katsuki lifts his head to look at him. There’s a question swirling in his shimmering eyes.
“I’m getting a beer. Want one?”
“I don’t drink that crap.”
“‘Course you don’t.”
“Yeah, I actually give a shit about my body. Try it sometime.”
Kariage makes a conscious effort to refrain from gawking at Katsuki’s developing physique—he's gotten broader. “Minors don’t haveta give a shit, that’s what parents are for.”
“Minors don’t fuckin’ drink either.”
“Semantics.”
Kariage grins widely, sporting the same futile smile he flashes at a pretty girl before she decides she wants nothing to do with him. When Katsuki rolls his eyes, he takes it as his signal to slip through the sliding door and head straight for the kitchen, casually stepping over legs without bothering to check who they’re attached to. Despite Katsuki's protests, he grabs two drinks from the fridge and closes it with a swift kick.
"Where are your manners, Kariage? You grab a drink for yourself, you grab a drink for everyone."
His brother's voice brings him to a halt. Within the cramped confines of their apartment, Hikaru effortlessly exudes authority, giving orders to his younger sibling and projecting importance. However, outside these walls, the illusion fades, leaving them both devoid of control. Kariage recognizes the fleeting nature of his own influence, understanding its triviality now that he’s graduated.
He suppresses a retort, running his tongue over teeth on the verge of grinding to powder, and complies without protest. Handing a chilled can to each person with practiced ease, it feels like his sole purpose, the only skill he possesses.
They mock and jeer at him.
"Notice how he passed me the beer? That’s what you call experience."
"Next time I swing by the restaurant, could you cover my bill, Kariage?"
Perched on the low folding chair with a discarded cigarette by his side, Katsuki casts a disgruntled look upon his return. Kariage braces himself, but instead of confrontation, Katsuki simply quips, "Took you long enough."
"I was playing errand boy for those lazy fucks inside," he mutters, placing the beer between Katsuki's legs. "Better drink while it’s cold."
“I told you-”
"Yeah, yeah, I know, snowflake," he shoots back, "but once you're in UA, you won't even have the luxury of turning one down, so..." Kariage settles into his seat as a new silence descends between them, the faint buzz of the beer comforting him. He taps his can, unable to resist broaching the subject again. "What do you reckon it's gonna be like?"
“Hm?”
“UA.”
Katsuki arches a blond eyebrow. "Why the sudden interest? You never cared before."
“Well, now it feels real.”
“Dunno,” Katsuki gives in with a huff. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
Petulantly, he presses his lips into an irritated pout, and damn, it's cute—a word nobody would ever associate with Bakugou Katsuki. A sudden urge wells up within Kariage, the kind that would likely result in a broken nose if he were to act on it. He raises the can back to his mouth, realizing he's far from drunk enough for this conversation—maybe he should have grabbed more drinks.
Still, he can't resist teasing him. "Think you’ll meet anyone stronger than you?"
“Pft, fuck off.”
"What?" Kariage muses, a dopey grin spreading across his face. "You're saying you never thought about it?"
A blaze ignites in Katsuki's eyes; he suddenly straightens, gripping the armrests tightly as he fixes Kariage with an intense, razor-sharp gaze, gleaming like silver and brimming with danger. This is passion, Kariage can't help but think, the determination to prove oneself, and he finds himself captivated. "I don't give a damn. Anyone who thinks they're better than me, I'll show them why they’re wrong.”
Kariage whistles appreciatively, genuinely meaning it when he says, "intense."
Relaxing slightly, Katsuki shrugs his shoulders as droplets of condensation form on his can, trickling down its shining surface.
“Will you get to hang out often?”
“Dunno.”
“Katsuki-”
“You’re being weird.”
Kariage pauses, taken aback by the unexpected accusation before letting out a airy laugh. He runs his fingers through his hair. "Shit, I guess I am, huh. Must be the beer.”
Katsuki shows no signs of letting up as he scrutinizes him, probably catching wind of the lingering nerves and the stench of burnt onions that seem to have seeped into his very essence. He wrinkles his nose in… confusion? annoyance? Kariage doesn't want to find out. "What's with you?"
No, too close for comfort. He keeps up his rhythmic tapping—one, two, three. Pause. One, two, three. Pause. “Ah, I bet you’re thrilled."
There's a rustle, the fabric of Katsuki's chair shifting as he observes Kariage intently. "Yeah, I can't wait to get the fuck out of this place," he answers bluntly. Nothing less could be expected from him. As brutally honest as always, a quality to be cautious of, his words are capable of cutting deep like shattered glass. Even after he's gone, they remain, leaving behind a network of fractures, a shard lodged in your organs.
“I can’t blame you.”
“You don’t have to stay either.”
“Nah, I do. Someone has to look after my baby sister, and it ain’t gonna be any of those guys.” Kariage takes another swing. “Must be nice, not having anyone to take care of, no one to bug ya.”
Katsuki’s lips twist with disdain. “No one to bug me? I’ve got plenty of that,” he retorts, without elaborating further.
It’s oddly surprising. Kariage knows little about Katsuki’s home life, apart from the physical home aspect, a lavish two-story place with an open floor plan in an upscale neighborhood. The first time Kariage visited, nobody was home, and he felt too out of place to sit on the creamy couch. Now he can’t help but wonder.
“I’m about to say something really disgusting,” he blurts out.
“Huh?”
They alternate shifting their weight. Kariage's knees knock into Katsuki's as the mesh crinkles beneath him, it’s suddenly impossible to get comfortable. He quickly pulls back and settles into a new position. Reaching for another sip, only to realize his can is empty.
He decides to just come out with it. "I think I'm gonna miss having you around. Gross, huh?"
The silence constricts around Kariage’s abdomen, robbing him of breath and draining his resolve, until the crack of Katsuki’s can interrupts it. His throat bobs as he swallows. “You’re right, that was disgusting.”
Kariage laughs, but it catches in his throat, choking him. "I mean, the other guys are cool and all, but..." they’re not you. The unspoken words hang in the air, heavy and palpable, almost as weighty as Katsuki's gaze. Kariage's eyes flicker down to his adam's apple, and suddenly the spring air feels suffocating, thick like the steam in an onsen. "I don't know..."
"I'm about to do something really disgusting," he wants to warn, but he finds himself moving before he can.
It happens quickly, too fast to be considered anything substantial, but it happens nevertheless. Kariage nearly misses, unsteady on his chair, as he plants a half-hearted kiss on one side of Katsuki’s mouth. Despite its brevity, his insides twist; a kiss, even a lackluster one, is still a kiss. Kariage realizes that Katsuki’s body stiffens, expanding like prey sensing danger, and he calculates the likelihood of instant demise between the fifth floor and the ground.
"The fuck..." Katsuki's voice carries a venomous edge, his eyes widening before settling into a hardened gaze, trapped in a state between disbelief and fury. Kariage mirrors the same disbelief, still struggling to fully comprehend the gravity of his actions.
Does it even make a difference? A smaller voice whispers in distorted rationale. You'll never cross paths again.
Rather than finding himself at the mercy of Katsuki’s clenched fists and enduring a battered face, a reasonable reaction to Kariage’s rashness, Katsuki throws his head back and downs his beer, a stream dribbling down his chin. Suddenly, he avoids Kariage’s gaze, staring straight ahead. "I get it now," he says wryly.
"I'm not... like that, or anything. I..." Kariage rushes to defend himself, though he's unsure what exactly he's defending. "I've never wanted to do this with anyone before, not with another guy, I mean."
Katsuki sneers. "You can't just be gay for one person," he declares outright, jolting Kariage to his core. A chill races down his spine as he struggles to suppress a shudder. The harshness in Katsuki's tone and his choice of words leave Kariage reeling. "You're either gay or you're not, so which is it?"
It's not a question. Kariage buries his face in his hands, and despite himself, he laughs. A genuine one this time. "Shit."
"How long have you been wanting to do that?"
Kariage raises his head slightly, staring at Katsuki incredulously, his shoulders trembling. "Since the sludge incident," he reveals. And he hadn't even realized it until this moment. He feels exposed, laid bare by Katsuki himself. It's a strange sensation, but not an unwelcome one. Serving Katsuki is unlike serving anyone else. No, with Katsuki, it's because he genuinely wants to. He wants to answer all of his questions, and to do so truthfully.
Katsuki tenses at the reminder of a time when he was more vulnerable, a moment where he had been a helpless victim. Kariage wants to express that his opinion of Katsuki hasn't wavered since then, and if anything, he now holds even greater respect for him.
“What, me being a damsel in distress just did it for you?”
Kariage hides his face behind his palms. "Ugh, don't put it like that."
"Put it like what? Like it is?"
If Kariage didn't know any better, he'd think Katsuki was teasing him, but he's too uneasy to ascertain as bile climbs up his throat, replacing words. He rubs his eyes, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have snuck one on you like that," he says instead. "You can punch me if you want."
"Why would I bother touching you?" he scoffs. "And is that why you were grilling me about UA? Because you wanted to kiss me goodbye or some shit?"
Katsuki jabs his knee into Kariage's, the force far from friendly. Kariage has nothing to offer in response, nothing that could salvage the situation at least. Katsuki is sharp, Kariage knows that—top of their class. The gears have been turning in his mind, trying to decipher Kariage's peculiar behavior from the start, and he seems to have finally pieced it together.
It only deepens Kariage's fondness. He really is so screwed.
“Fine.”
"What?" Kariage blinks, no longer evading the consequences as he stares at Katsuki, who crosses his arms and swells his chest in an attempt to appear larger, the one in control. Maybe that's what this is—Kariage had caught him off guard, and now Katsuki wants to reclaim control of the situation.
“I’ll let you.”
Even as he acknowledges this, Kariage is selfish—of course, he would grasp at straws. His self-restraint hangs by a thread as he attempts, at least, to be a decent person. "Dude."
Katsuki raises his can of beer, waving it in Kariage's face. It's a taunt, a reminder of something Kariage desires but can't have. "Once I'm in UA, you won't even have the luxury of turning it down,” he echoes his words back to him.
Kariage's lips purse with suspicion. "Have you even kissed anyone before, Katsuki?"
A flicker of something flares in Katsuki expression as a glower sharpens his features, the faint flush at the tips of his ears provides all the confirmation needed. Even as he snaps, "What kind of question is that?"
“That’s a no.”
"Fucking forget it," Katsuki says as he rises to his feet, the furious blush now spreading across his face. "This is what I get for taking pity on your sorry ass—"
Before Katsuki can leave, Kariage instinctively seizes his wrist without delay, a sympathetic smile gracing his lips. To his astonishment, Katsuki actually stops, peering down at him with an expectant expression. Kariage senses he's on the precipice of something vital, his destiny hinging on a single, right answer.
"Careful," Kariage murmurs as he turns Katsuki's hand over, noticing the glistening sweat. The remark causes Katsuki's hand to twitch.
"Shut up," Katsuki grumbles, though his hostility diminishes as he sits back down, somewhat compliant.
Kariage hadn’t expected another chance, yet here he is, heart thundering with anticipation. He leans in, tentative yet hopeful, and brushes his lips against Katsuki’s. The faint warmth of Katsuki’s mouth meets his, fanning the flames of a desire that had lain dormant too long. It begs him to deepen the kiss, to claim more than just a fleeting taste of intimacy.
He lets his lips trail along Katsuki’s jawline, testing the boundary. A hand shoots up, fingers tangling in his hair with a firm tug. “Watch it.” The warning comes low and pointed, a reminder that in this unbalanced moment, only one of them truly needs it. The air thickens, caught in a heartbeat suspended in time, one-sided, like staring at a pale blue screen. This isn't his to take; it’s a gift—an allowance from someone destined to be a hero, extending a moment of grace.
"I'm selfish," Kariage confesses against Katsuki's warm skin. "I want more even though this is enough."
“‘Least you admit it.”
He got what he wanted. At the end of the day, he was Katsuki’s first kiss, but for some reason, it only exacerbates the growing ache in his chest.
Kariage doesn’t want to say goodbye.
He gets up to grab another beer.