Work Text:
Katsuki respects the endurance that comes with winter. The biting cold, the encroaching darkness. Splintered ice crackling along the sea, gusts of glacial winds- to survive in such unfavourable conditions is remarkable enough. But to take flight and actively thrive, well.
It's fucking incredible.
Nature is persistent like that. Birds most of all, in fact. As a species, they're beyond impressive. In Katsuki's eyes, there can be no greater symbol of endurance. There's no bigger pledge a creature could make for the sheer will to live.
Birds undergo some of the most perilous journeys each and every year spanning oceans and continents. Birds are resilient and resolute, determined to see it through. More, they possess a kind of freedom humankind itself has strived to endlessly capture and harness.
To rise above it all, to soar high up into the sky.
The first time Katsuki saw it with his own eyes, a small sparrow outside his nursery flapping its wings and disappearing into the tree-line with enviable ease, he'd been mesmerised. With a thoroughly scraped knee, and miraculously no broken bones, he learnt swiftly that humans could never fly that way.
Still, Katsuki resolved to chase that feeling. Find a way to settle that ache beneath his bones. Winter is where he glimpses it most.
Stepping inside the cabin, Katsuki sets his bags down inside a place devoid of personality where nothing changes. The tourist flyers remain frayed around the edges. The outdated information packet— Welcome to Shiretoko National Park! — sits on the front bench as it has for at least the past decade, possibly older than the creaky furniture.
Whatever.
This is merely the base of operations, anyway. And there is a way to make the space a lot more interesting, a ritual of sorts. Katsuki reaches into his travel bag, hoisting out the well-used paper bag which houses a framed photo. Not just any photo, mind you.
No. This one made the January cover of National Geographic five years ago, and nothing Katsuki has seen since comes close.
Here, the common cardinal is more akin to a phoenix rising from ashes. It tells a story of resurgence and rebirth. With wings splayed out, sunlight poking through the feathers and illuminating the plumage. Head turned sharply to the side, accentuating the striking profile with black accents. Body twisted in preparation for flight.
Set against dull, muted greens of a forest, the cardinal burns boldly through the foreground. The vivid composition, the subtle details in the shot-
Even now, the photo leaves Katsuki a little lost, presses insistent and irritatingly at the bruise on his heart.
For just a moment, it propels him a little further off the ground.
Into flight.
Katsuki places the photo on the table. It’s both a symbol and a taunt. A fierce reminder of what he's aiming for.
"Just you watch, Todoroki," he hisses, every inch of him ablaze. "One day, I'm gonna surpass you."
Consistency is key to mastery of any craft.
Beyond that, it’s a damn good thing to carve into your bones and keep there. Bald Eagles use the same nest year upon year, making improvements and building on the original each time they return. Female hornbills seal themselves into their nest to tend to their young, relying solely on their partner to bring materials and food.
Consistency is admirable. Heck, it’s kind of hardcore too. Consistency has gotten Katsuki this far not only in photography but in life.
And with his annual retreat to the cabin, he’s not unlike the Bald Eagles. Returning to the same place time and time again, planting roots. He knows most of the birdwatching trails and spots like the back of his hand at this point. It allows him to get ahead of all the bumbling tourists and newbies scattered around.
Katsuki sets up his camera between the trees, setting a mat down to stifle the sound of his feet. With some luck, he’ll get a decent shot of the black woodpecker today. Most people go further south, but this area has always provided incredible results.
Yeah, okay.
Maybe it’s petty and spiteful to keep the best spots to himself. But Katsuki has poured many seasons worth of time into finding these locations. He’s achieved this through his own merit, his own drive. He's not about to dish out details to undeserving-
“Good morning.”
What the fucking fuck.
Jolting in alarm, Katsuki snaps his attention swiftly to the voice. And there, in the foliage a few feet from him, is a man unpacking camera gear.
Katsuki blinks. Blinks again. It doesn’t change what he sees. There is another person. In his spot.
“Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Katsuki bristles.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The man looks up at that, giving Katsuki a chance to assess his newfound arch nemesis. Mismatched eyes, the left surrounded by a faded scar. His hair is obscenely fluffy, streaks of red and white poking out from his hat. Sharp cheekbones, chiseled jawline, a gentle slope of a nose-
Fuck.
He’s gorgeous.
But that’s besides the point. This guy will not be benefiting from pretty privilege today.
“Oi. I asked you a question.”
Gesturing to his fancy equipment, the man seems unfazed by the hostility in both Katsuki’s stance and snippy tone. Or maybe he’s just oblivious.
Hard to say.
“I’m taking photos,” is the simple response. “This is the prime spot, I’m sure they’ll be black woodpeckers here. Did you know they’re the largest species of woodpecker-”
“-In Japan, yeah,” Katsuki snaps, tetchy. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Unfortunately, the man seems immune to sarcasm. He stops unpacking his flashy gear- Katsuki spies a Hasselblad X2D, which is kind of obscene when set against his scuffed up Nikon D7000- to tap his chin thoughtfully.
“Nuthatches have the unusual ability to walk headfirst down trees.”
“You’re a nuthatch,” Katsuki snarks back. Sure, it’s immature. But he’s growing more irritated by the minute about this whole ordeal.
“No, I’m not.”
With that, the stranger continues with setting up their tripod. Avid proof that this guy really can’t take a hint. Katsuki is pretty sure the contours of his pinched expression scream how dare you steal my spo t and back the fuck off!
“I was surprised nobody else thought to set-up here.”
Katsuki grips his camera tight enough to turn his knuckles white, takes a steady breath.
“Oh!”
The man gasps, as if some grand realisation has washed over him. Head cocked, he turns to Katsuki. The sunlight adorns him through the tree-line, like he’s favoured and spun from gold.
For the record, it’s terrible.
“I’m sorry. Was this spot reserved?”
Now let it be known that Katsuki has an impeccable bullshit radar, so no amount of sounding polite and proper is getting this guy off the hook. Especially because Katsuki catches the traces of muted amusement- right there in those gleaming eyes, in the corner of his mouth. The most despicable kind you could never prove outright.
Pulling out his phone, the man hums.
“I did check before setting off. I don’t remember seeing anything about that…”
What a pedantic bastard. Katsuki has met his match. Thoroughly irritated, he turns back to his own, far more superior set-up. Whatever the model or price, the camera never lies. Talent to the calibre of Todoroki can’t be fabricated, this weirdo should consider that.
“Do what you want. I don’t care.”
To be clear: this is not defeat. This is a coincidence of the worst kind.
It sure as hell won’t happen again.
It happens again.
Katsuki finds Shouto- the name he provides without preamble- setting up in a remote stake out spot the following day. Then later, at sundown outside Rausu. On the hunt for the Blakiston’s fish owl, Katsuki is greeted by an all too familiar face in the secluded corner of the stream he scouted.
The rest of the week takes a similar, terrible trajectory. Katsuki surveys the peninsula for black-eared kites with Shouto firmly on his heels. They watch an Asian Rosy Finch hop merrily from branch to branch deep in the woodlands one quiet morning. At the edge of Utoro fishing port and harbour, they enjoy a meal of chan chan yaki together- in miraculous yet eerily comfortable silence- before surveying the local gulls and sea ducks.
So when Katsuki arrives at his secret spot to oversee the red-crowned cranes in the wetlands, he’s hardly surprised to find Shouto is already raring to go. With a nod in the man’s vague direction, Katsuki cracks on with setting up. He isn’t here to talk to losers who refuse to leave him in peace on this trip. He’s here to take photos of birds.
Duh.
“You’ve got a talent for this, you know.”
Once again: duh.
“You bet I do.” The stand snaps into place. Katsuki mounts his camera onto the platform. He gestures pointedly to his pride and joy. “It’s my job.”
“I haven’t seen your work so I’m hardly at liberty to comment.”
The delivery is so smooth that Katsuki doesn’t register the outrageous words until it’s too late to call them out.
Damn this.
“I was referring to your ability to find these places,” Shouto clarifies, pressing on. “Much like the others, this was difficult to find.”
Well, he isn’t wrong.
The peak they’re on is preceded by a narrow, steep climb weaving between the trees; altogether, ill-advised to attempt with camera gear and hiking supplies. But that never stopped Katsuki in the past, and it never will.
Not until he surpasses his goal.
“How do you do it?” Shouto pries, curiosity piqued.
Katsuki shrugs, adjusting the lens to bring the red-crowned cranes into focus. Long black necks graceful and adept for both dancing and fishing, a red crown on their head, white wings with a speck of black on the secondaries, body the colour of fresh snow. Often attributed to luck and longevity.
Fidelity, some even say.
Anyway.
“I just follow my gut, I guess. Whatever it takes to get the perfect shot.”
Resting a palm on the weathered body of his camera, Katsuki prepares his first shot.
“You have to really be in it. Commit. If you half-ass it, the camera calls your bluff and the photo turns out shit.”
“Interesting…” Shouto takes a snap, observing the photo before resuming. “I’ve not heard it put that way before. Such dogma certainly leaves no margin for heartless endeavours.”
“Exactly.” Katsuki gets behind his camera, biting back the raw smile. “It’s an important lesson I learnt from someone a while back, is all.”
“I see...”
Click.
“Yeah. Their photos really speak to me.”
Click.
Katsuki checks over the composition of the shot, adjusts the framing of the cranes.
“Ever heard of Todoroki?”
What happens next is bizarre.
Shouto fumbles with the camera in his hands, grapples desperately to keep it from careening down the ledge. At all costs, apparently. Before natural selection cruelly kicks in, Katsuki reaches over and hauls the idiot to safety.
Sprawled out on the fresh snow, Shouto blinks. He glances between the ledge and Katsuki, putting the pieces together. Realisation hits. He gapes.
Now none of this should be endearing. It should be extremely unattractive to witness a man forget situational awareness and self-preservation. But alas, Shouto retains an obscene amount of allure.
“Thank you.”
“Tch. Don’t mention it.”
Seriously. Katsuki has only just regained his sanity. There’s no guarantee it will last at this rate.
“Not only that,” Shouto breathes, voice hushed as he regathers himself off the ground. “What you said, your words-” he falters abruptly, seemingly overcome by something. “I suppose it’s fair to say you’ve taken me under your wing these past few days.”
Katsuki merely grunts, a prominent scowl brewing behind his camera. This guy may have a knack for finding rare birds and stealing prime photo spots, but he has nothing on Todoroki.
Still. Rookie or not, the guy almost met an early grave. The least Katsuki can do is invite him to the cabin for some tea when they wrap this birdwatching session up. It’s about time he begrudgingly accepts they have moved past the stage of mortal enemies.
“Are you sure?” Shouto asks in response to the invite as they trek down the slope.
Despite his earlier blunder, he is alarmingly at ease now. The trees seem to welcome him. He weaves between them with a fluidity Katsuki almost struggles to match.
Note: almost.
“Of course I’m sure.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose.”
At that, Katsuki snorts. He pivots sharply on his heel, spinning to face Shouto who has fallen a beat behind him. Walking backwards down a slope this steep is stupid, but Katsuki can’t seem to take his damn eyes off the man.
“Ain’t that what you’ve been doing this whole time?”
“Not the whole time.” Pause. “At the start, perhaps...”
Well. At least he’s finally being honest about it.
Shouto twists between a tangle of trees, lithe and staggeringly graceful. He quickly closes the gap in their strides. Katsuki turns at the waist to keep the bastard in his sights like a damn fool, a flower turned towards the sun.
Their dance between the trees is not unlike that of the red-crowned cranes in all their mystery and majesty. Untangling and unfurling their wings in the snow. Circling and coiling each other in a grand display to strengthen their lifelong bond-
That dreadful, damning thought has Katsuki losing his balance because what the fuck. His foot snags a large root and yeah. There’s no real way to stick the landing here.
He’s going down.
Katsuki winces, bracing himself for impact. Only it’s nothing like what he expected. Soft. Warm. Inviting. He realises then, Shouto has an arm snug around his waist to keep him upright.
“We shouldn’t make a habit of falling,” the ethereal menace says, breath fanning against Katsuki’s ear, padded coat pressed close against his back.
God.
This is awful. This is everything. Weaker men would swoon.
“Otherwise, it may become a vicious cycle of inviting each other to have tea.”
Contrary to whatever sick delusion Shouto believes, he is not funny and he never will be.
“Don’t get it twisted,” Katsuki manages around the awful lump in his throat, the throbbing of his pulse, the heat stinging his cheeks.
He yanks himself free from Shouto’s grasp, retreating down the trail at breakneck speed. Really. It’s just common courtesy. Nothing more.
“Everyone deserves good tea,” he huffs into the collar of his coat. “Even a bastard like you.”
When they reach the cabin, Shouto is suspiciously polite. Like a strange cosmic entity, he waits to be invited inside. He takes off his shoes at the door, sits with his hands folded neatly in his lap.
Something is off.
Katsuki eyes him cautiously, setting the tea tray down on the table.
“You good?” he probes.
Shouto reaches for the proudly displayed photo of the red cardinal. The ultimate symbol, a beckoning taunt- the benchmark to surpass. He stares down in genuine awe, as if he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.
“Frustrating, right?” Katsuki takes a seat beside an alarmingly quiet Shouto. “Todoroki really is a cut above the rest.”
“The fact that you framed this…” Shouto manages, both transfixed and bewildered by the photo. “It means a lot, coming from you.”
Katsuki grins, leaning back on the sofa. “You know the guy personally or something?”
The wistful look on Shouto’s face wipes that amusement clean off. Smoothing over the glass of the frame with a thumb, his gaze softens. Reminiscent, almost. He’s deeply connected to the photo in a way Katsuki knows all too well. In his experience. As a photographer.
Fuck.
His goal has been staring him in the face this whole damn time. Literally.
“I remember the day I took this.”
And there it is. Terrible confirmation.
“The cardinal swept down in front of me. I was so preoccupied with watching, I almost forgot to take a picture.”
Arms folded across his chest, Katsuki sucks on his bottom lip the way one would a sour lemon. Okay. Listen. He’s allowed to be petty and pissed about this, all things considered.
Chin jutting out, he scoffs.
“So. That's why you didn’t give me your last name, huh.”
“It’s hard to escape at times,” Shouto admits. “But I’ve enjoyed these past few weeks out here, far away from it all.”
“Courage. Flight. The pursuit of freedom,” Katsuki counters, snarling around the syllables. “That’s what your photos say. Yet you’re spouting this crap about escapes and hiding.”
He clicks his tongue in frustration, stinging eyes narrowed.
“You damn hypocrite.”
Shouto’s eyes rove slowly across the cabin. Then, seemingly deciding upon his next words, he comes out with the most ridiculous sentence known to mankind.
“Are you aware that I’m not a bird?”
Katsuki wheezes. “What.”
“You called me a nuthatch when we first met.”
Whether that’s a joke or an observation, hell knows. Katsuki barks out a laugh all the same. It’s jagged around the edges, cuts into his throat as it climbs, and just like that the tension collapses. Encouraged by the sound, Shouto places a hand over the trembling fist and coaxes it into stillness.
A beat passes this way. The touch is grounding.
“I suppose I chase as much as I run. If that makes me a hypocrite, then so be it.”
Their eyes meet.
And Katsuki is struck by the bruising honesty lingering there. It’s admirable, how even at his own expense Shouto strives for sincerity. The simple yet anchored depth of his admission is not unlike his work. Not an ounce of integrity is sacrificed to save face or make excuses in light of a blunder.
Katsuki respects that. More, he is completely mesmerised by it.
Shouto’s fingers curl gently around the fist he’s still cradling. Katsuki shuffles in his seat but he doesn’t pull back. If anything, he unravels further, allowing their fingers to brush.
“I don’t want this to spoil things. But I understand if you no longer wish to see me.”
Damn this. Shouto may be a menace but he’s goodness incarnate too. There’s no need for him to be so bereft and earnest over a few crossed wires. Katsuki folds. Fast.
“Tch. Just drink your damn tea.”
“Right.” Shouto nods, solemnly. “I’ll do that.”
Like a maniac, he reaches for the cup at record speed. The scalding liquid sloshes, almost spilling in his haste to comply. And it’s so silly, so earnest- so fucking sweet. Katsuki and his heart can’t take it.
“Oi! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Shouto offers an enigmatic smile and overall looks far too pleased with himself. It sets Katsuki on edge. Hackles thoroughly raised, he hisses.
“Don’t laugh at me.”
Eyes crinkled in the corners, Shouto is quick to point out that no, he isn’t laughing. But Katsuki thinks that’s bullshit because behind the teacup, Shouto’s eyes are gleaming.
“Am I really your favourite?”
Okay. That’s enough.
Katsuki gestures to the door.
“Get out of my house.”
“Technically, it’s not yours,” Shouto counters like the pedantic little shit he enjoys being.
Well.
So much for inner peace.
The early bird gets the worm and nature waits for nothing- if you snooze, you fucking lose.
Boots crunching in the snow, Katsuki folds up his map and clicks off his torch. Not much further. He isn't too far from where he planned to set-up for the day now: an icy barren cliffside facing the sea of Okhotsk.
It's a prime spot for an array of migrating birds. More specifically, Katsuki hopes to catch the Steller's sea eagle in action before this season ends. But a bird like that can be pretty hit and miss. Despite consistency and skill, the perfect photo in these conditions requires a stroke of luck.
Katsuki clears the tree-line as a slither of light creeps over the horizon to mark the dawn. But there’s a problem with what he sees on the horizon. Because it makes no sense.
There's just no way.
And yet.
There stands Shouto. And there, on his arm is none other than the Steller's sea eagle. The thing is damn huge, hardly unexpected given it's one of the largest raptors on earth. But combing over information about birds in journals is a whole lot different to seeing them up close.
The dark brown and black plumage is a stark contrast to the beady, piercing yellow eyes and matching pronounced beak. Upper wing coverts and wings are dusted with patches, sprinkled like snow on the cliffside.
If it were to open its wings now, it would definitely whack Shouto in the face. Regardless how hilarious that would be, the wild eagle is completely relaxed. Hooked, sharp talons curl comfortably around Shouto's arm, which is angled to hold this beast of a bird at eye-level.
The sight is compelling as hell.
Katsuki is propelled into motion, pulling the camera up from his neck-strap. He crouches into position and stares down his target.
Shouto fizzles warmly into focus through the camera, bathed in the orange glow of first light. A paradox by design- he’s like something conjured from an impossible dream yet unfathomably, achingly real.
Katsuki clutches the camera tightly, presses down on the shutter release with a trembling finger. The persistent clicks are as rapid as the pulse rattling beneath skin.
Through the lens, Katsuki can see the fabric has frayed around the edges of Shouto’s coat. A small price to pay for this moment. He also realises that Shouto is speaking, small puffs of air coiled visibly in the cold. The Eagle cocks its head a fraction in response, lowers its beak to observe Shouto more closely.
And this is the shot, Katsuki is sure of it; the backdrop of winter, the pair of them shrouded in fog and the cold chill of a frosty morning. Shouto’s cheeks are tinged pink and rosy from the cold, his eyes wide in wonder. The smallest smile set into the corner of his mouth as the Steller’s Eagle is perched proudly on his arm. Illuminated in a soft yet striking way. Silhouettes slowly scrubbed away by the emerging dawn, shadows stretched and pressed into the snow.
It's powerful, majestic- the picture of a lifetime. Orchestrated by fate alone, centred around the sheer wonder that is Todoroki Shouto.
Satisfied, Katsuki lowers his camera and hangs on the threshold of this moment. As morning breaks fully over the horizon, the sun loses a fraction of its honeyed hue. As the Eagle takes its leave, Katsuki begins his approach.
On the edge of the peninsula, Shouto stands pensively. Katsuki gestures to the coat, schooling his expression to something neutral.
“What happened?”
Shouto glances down at the marks left by the bird in sheer wonder, as if he’s never seen such a thing before in his life. His rapt is as ridiculous as it is stupidly beguiling. Then, lips twitching, Shouto shrugs.
“I got caught on a tree whilst getting up here.”
Well. That’s a blatant lie. But Katsuki can work with that for now. He’s still processing what the hell he just witnessed.
“Heh. Didn't you follow the path?” he teases.
Brow quirked, Shouto casts an incredulous look. He’s glacial in his judgment, a force set against winter itself and yet all the more incredible for it.
“What path? We both know this spot isn’t on any of the standard maps.”
Exactly, Katsuki doesn’t say. His lips are on lockdown because yeah. That’s what makes this spot so damn good for photos.
“Gotta admit, I’m kind of impressed you made it up here.”
“You should have more faith in your favourite-”
For fuck’s sake.
“-Finish that sentence and die.”
Shouto does not finish the sentence.
It’s a meagre win considering how much of a shithead he chooses to be most days. He pushes Katsuki’s buttons as thoroughly as he does a camera’s. Worse, he enjoys both things equally.
Conflicted, Katsuki glances down at his camera in the ensuing hush. There’s no real way to drop this casually into conversation. Surely, that means he’s justified in keeping the photo to himself for just a little longer.
“Did you know I saw an Imperial Woodpecker last year?”
Eyes blown wide, Katsuki turns to Shouto in disbelief.
“Ha!” he barks, startling the white wagtail hopping along the ground a few feet away. “Like hell you did. They’re pretty much extinct.”
Lips pursed, alarmingly close to a pout, Shouto presses on.
“But it’s true, I really did.”
What a Lying Liar.
“Be serious. You- you can’t just come out with crap like that!”
Spurred on by the bemused expression plastered over that pretty face, Katsuki continues on his tirade rife with receipts. Yeah. He’s a bird nerd too. So what.
“Nobody’s recorded a verified sighting in decades. If you really saw one, why haven’t you said shit until now?”
The question is meant to be disarming, not distressing. And yet. For some reason, Shouto folds into himself. His eyes lose a fraction of their usual spark. Well, shit. Now Katsuki feels like a raging asshole. Suddenly, nothing about this is funny or stupidly trivial anymore.
Voice tinged with a poignancy that has no place here, Shouto responds.
“I never had any evidence that would be permissible to the official records. And I-” Pause. “I’ve not come across anyone I wanted to share that with before. Not until I met you.”
The admission startles Katsuki. He meets those mismatched eyes head-on, he owes Shouto that much for being so direct. And Katsuki realises then, this is about more than the elusive woodpecker. This goes beyond the birds they’ve been trying to catch on camera all season.
Maybe, just maybe, it always has.
Before Katsuki can begin to make sense of the implications, Shouto continues. He speaks his next words with such tender urgency. Like a gaping wound, red and raw against the dawn.
Strange. Katsuki is the one who feels exposed, cleaved open.
Caged, in this moment.
“You… you believe me, don’t you?”
Katsuki thumbs over the shutter on his camera, eyes averted. He remembers how the Steller's sea eagle sat on Shouto’s arm, how the pair of them seemed unfathomably in sync, and he knows the truth with unnerving certainty. If anyone could make such an outrageous claim, it would be Todoroki Shouto.
Katsuki believes him about this. Absolutely and completely.
Scoffing, Katsuki averts his gaze to the cliffside. He tucks his smirk into the collar of his coat, keenly aware the shape of it is softening.
“Pfft. No chance.”
The sun sets on the final day at Hokkaido, bathing the horizon in a swathe of orange, pinks, and vibrant reds. The silhouettes of local gulls are striking to watch, their wings arched against the icy wind and warm palette of approaching dusk.
It would be an impressive photo to end the season with. But Katsuki keeps his camera firmly held in his lap, the support strap slung around his neck. His legs dangle over the hillside as he watches the gulls grow smaller in their voyage across the sea.
“I always hate this part,” Katsuki admits, breath hitching. “I mean, sure, winter will be back next year. But it’s shitty cos-”
“-It won’t ever be the same,” Shouto finishes, voice raw and syllables rattling around the edges. “It won’t be like this.”
The air punches out of his lungs. Katsuki struggles to reign in his composure.
“Yeah.”
There’s a poignant gleam to those mismatched eyes as the light anoints Shouto in the very same grief Katsuki feels carving up the centre of his chest. For the winter that has been and will soon be gone. For the ice to thaw and the snow to melt. For the time they’ve shared together that is soon to reach completion.
“A shame, isn’t it?” Shouto murmurs, reverent and ravaged by the admission all at once. “I’d quite like to have this winter again.”
Katsuki would live here for the rest of his days if he could; in the little cabin tucked into the Shiretoko forests, in one endless winter, in the presence of one stupid man.
That cements it.
Wordlessly, he flicks to a photo on screen and passes his camera to Shouto. Patience is hard to respect in a moment so revealing. But he does his best, even as time ploughs on and Shouto remains far too quiet for comfort. Much like in the cabin, his eyes are fixed firmly on the photo. Only this time, his expression is unreadable.
Typical, the one time Katsuki really needs Shouto to prattle on and say something, say anything, he’s turned to fucking stone.
Fingers tapping against the ground in a restless rhythm, Katsuki decides to take initiative. It’s fine. He can do this.
“I was thinking of submitting it for the exhibition at the National Arts Center this summer. Whilst birds are the main focus, there’s nothing in the criteria that excludes people.“
With a shrug that is far less casual than intended, Katsuki turns to gauge Shouto’s reaction and—
Tears stream silently down pale cheeks. Shouto is crying.
Shit, shit, shit.
Katsuki has royally fucked this one up. He clasps Shouto by the shoulder in a firm, unyielding grip. Gives a squeeze. A little insistent and a lot despairing and finally—Shouto finds his voice. He wipes gently at his eyes, the ghost of a smile haunting his mouth.
“I‘ve never seen myself this way before.”
Compelled, Katsuki shuffles closer on the hillside. Thighs brush and feet bump as he moves.
“This is how I’ve always seen your work.”
Seen you, goes unvoiced. Shouto hears the whispers of it, of course. Never one to let anything slip away.
“Katsuki…”
Snatching the camera back, Katsuki ducks his head. He’s played his cards poorly without a real game plan, heart stitched into his sleeve. It’s awful.
“Anyway,” he starts, determined to move the hell on. “Let me know. I won’t submit it without your permission.”
Of all things to happen next, Katsuki doesn’t expect to have a camera shoved in his face. He blinks, adjusting his eyes to the abrupt intrusion whilst cradling the insanely swish camera in his hands. And there, on the display screen is a photo.
Katsuki instantly recalls the memory. They’d waited hours for Blakiston’s fish owl to appear by the steam. When the dishevelled-looking bird with its bright yellow eyes finally revealed itself, Katsuki had been overcome with a sense of victory.
Grinning sharply, he’d hastily craned over his camera, readying himself to get the shot. Eyes bright. Teeth bared. Despite it being a snapshot, the photo is dynamic and punchy. It’s filled with the endless momentum that drives Katsuki forward.
Somehow, Shouto has captured the very essence of him. Gotten right to the heart and laid him bare.
I’ve never seen myself this way before, Shouto had said earlier.
Well.
That’s definitely relatable.
Hands clammy, Katsuki sucks in a ragged breath. His pulse races beneath skin, chest light. Every fibre of him buzzes with anticipation for the unspoken thing hurtling around them.
The potential, the possibility- the hushed promise of endless winters to come.
“Ha. Pretty sneaky of you,” Katsuki admits. “Looks like we both weren’t just watching the birds.”
Eyes twinkling with unbidden mirth, Shouto gazes out to the sea.
“Next winter won’t be the same,” he confirms. “But we could discover what it’s like together, if you want.”
Their eyes catch. And it’s suddenly so easy, so seamless to fold together. Shouto pries his camera from Katsuki’s trembling hands, sets it down out of harm’s way before inching closer.
Caught in orbit, they move in tandem. Katsuki shudders, snaking his arm around those broad shoulders to haul the bastard closer. Shouto’s lips are maddeningly soft against his own but no less devoted to the task at hand. The kiss is dizzying, electric- every romantic cliché Katsuki could think up doesn’t even come close.
There’s devotion in the press of their lips, playfulness in the way Shouto slows the pace on purpose to coax Katsuki deeper. Worse, it works. Katsuki chases that mouth the same fierce way he does everything else. The beautiful breathless laugh that slips out is a reward to treasure.
“So what,” Katsuki asks several kisses later, as the sun sets on their winter adventure. “You planning to steal more of my spots for the rest of the year?”
Shouto pouts, thoroughly offended by the idea. Like he hasn’t been doing just that the entire season.
What a ridiculous man.
“Absolutely not. I’d much rather be by your side.”
Lips harbouring a rare, covert smile, Katsuki watches the gulls skate across the honeyed horizon. For a fleeting moment, it propels him a little further off the ground.
“Alright,” he says. “Guess I could work with that.“
Into flight.