Archive of Our Own

Katsuki saw the sky explode in three different colours and thought of Izuku. At that moment, he was truly without words, swept up in a great whirlpool of childlike wonder. The stratified pinks, oranges and reds bled into each other, outweighing the sinking Sun. It was almost as pretty as his best friend. 

Wobbling on the rocks he had planted his feet over, Katsuki slotted his fingers into the belt loops on either side of the new khaki shorts his mother had bought him. He looked out at the gentle surge of water erupting from the springs, and eroding the surrounding stones into a rainbow of grey, white, and green. 

Further away was a spring-fed lake. It was full of ayu, carp, minnows and gobies. The water shone in sinking hues of deep blue, transparent only under daylight. At this late hour, the lake resembled a green-black mass of liquid tar. Strangely, this too reminded him of Izuku. Everything green always did. 

They had arrived at Machi just the day before, after a long four hour drive (most of which Izuku had spent sleeping on Katsuki’s shoulder with his mouth open), where the Bakugous had rented a big log cabin for the summer. Masaru had, that day itself, gone up to the lake with his fishing gear. He caught five sweetfish to be grilled up. While he was gone, Mitsuki and Auntie Inko struck a deal with the children. The boys were tasked with finishing their dinner (a colourful plate of grilled sweetfish and vegetables), after which they were duly promised a scoop of mango and vanilla. 

Izuku was a ‘darling boy’ (that’s what Mitsuki always called him) and had obediently attacked the side of veggies, picking them up neatly with his chopsticks and chewing with chipmunk cheeks. Katsuki wanted to finish his dinner before him, so he could ‘win’ and get to the ice cream first. But he faced a great problem. 

The broccolis on his plate looked suspiciously familiar. And all Katsuki could do was sit in deep contemplation, the likes of which he had experienced only once before, when choosing which All Might movie to rewatch. Seeing him now, so uncharacteristically still, Izuku grew worried. He was such a worrier. Just like Auntie Inko.  

“Kacchan, Kacchan,” Izuku called out to him, poking his arm. He was bright and curious at every turn—thin brows upturned and tense, eyes half his face. Furiously, Katsuki shoved every last bit of broccoli into his mouth, barely chewing. Then he stole some from Izuku’s plate. This earned him a sharp glare and an under-the-table kick from his mother. 

But Izuku, ever the saint, had started picking out all the broccoli from his plate and placing them on Katsuki’s. “You like them, Kacchan? You can have them!” he said cheerfully. Mitsuki and Auntie Inko started to laugh at this, galvanising Katsuki to eat faster. In the end, he didn’t win. And he was too full for ice cream. Izuku claimed that he was as stuffed as Kacchan! But Katsuki knew it to be a complete lie. 

Having looked for flat stones all the way, Katsuki now dipped a finger into the large lake, as if making sure it really was water. Standing up, he tried to understand something. He felt…what? Katsuki didn’t know. As it were, he carried Izuku with him everywhere. 

Grabbing a smooth stone from the crammed pockets of his shorts, Katsuki skipped it on still water. It bounced on the dark surface four times before disappearing in a wrinkle. He imagined how excited Izuku would be, and then imagined him trying. He would have failed, stomped his feet, and looked about like a kicked puppy. 

What was it then that Katsuki often thought? Pathetic? No, not really. Cute? 

Where was Izuku, anyway? Katsuki had demanded that they go out together and skip stones. Izuku had asked him to wait, crying out Five minutes, Kacchan. I am making something! And he wouldn’t tell him what it was! Katsuki had stormed out then, all angry and upset. You’re supposed to tell your best friends everything. That’s how it works! Stupid Deku! 

Sulking more now, Katsuki threw one of the bigger stones into the lake, creating a big splash. Then he threw another and another, until he was all out of stones and his pockets turned empty. Frustrated, he went searching for more. This time on his hands and knees, scraping his skin an angry red. Maybe Izuku would care then to be his best friend. 

“Kacchan! What are you doing?” 

Katsuki scrambled to look up and was immediately blinded. Izuku outweighed the sky now. He had a flower crown resting on his head. Like an angel’s halo. That’s what the flowers had been for. All afternoon, they had collected so many. Twirling the delicate stem of every one, Katsuki had thought of only Izuku. He had forgotten to question what it was that they were collecting them all for. 

“What’re you hiding?” Katsuki sniffed, rubbing his nose. Izuku’s hands were folded behind his back. Nervously, he shuffled on his feet. The boy made a funny sound, shaking his head, cheeks all peony-pink like the flowers wrapped around his crown.

“I made…umm.” Izuku skidded his toe against the dirt, swallowing his lower lip whole, shoulders rocking side to side. “I made one for you,” he mumbled shyly, bringing another flower crown forward with shaking hands. “Do you like it?” Izuku was whispering and wriggling like a worm. 

The flowers were a burst of orange and white, interspaced by big, serrated, purplish-green leaves and springy hellebores covering the twisted wire. “Did you make it all alone? By yourself?”

Izuku shook his head, and the crown tilted askew. Katsuki clicked his tongue, walking over and reaching up to fix it. “Mom helped. It’s hard to twist wire.”

“I could have done it for you, stupid!” Katsuki huffed, snatching the flower crown from Izuku. He put it on his head, blond spikes sticking out from the centre like hay. 

“You look amazing, Kacchan!” Izuku awed, clutching the hem of his shirt and pulling it down. “Do you like it?” 

Katsuki nodded, hesitating. “Been better if you had let me help you, Deku.”

“But I wanted to surprise Kacchan,” Izuku explained, brimming with so much adoration, that he couldn’t help but still sway with it. 

“We are here for the summer together,” Katsuki berated, “Together,” he repeated, really trying to ram it in. “Would you like to spend your summer alone? Huh, Deku?” Katsuki sneered at him, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Of course not! Only with Kacchan.” Izuku stood closer to him, lower lip wobbling earnestly. “I missed you,” he confessed and robbed Katsuki of his senses, so that he didn’t know how to respond, and only stared dumbly. Offbeat and dazed, a bizarre thought lodged itself into his mind, and he fought to bring himself over. 

“I’ll eat you too.” Katsuki had meant to say ‘broccoli’ in place of ‘you,’ but realised that made no sense and so began to say ‘missed you too,’ but had not quite recovered and spoke mistakenly at the instant of the two separate replies interjecting. “Ah! Shit.”

“Huh?” Izuku blinked slowly. His long lashes formed gentle streaks of a faint, yellow shadow right under his enormous, confused eyes. He was at last moored to the ground, tilting only his head. 

“I missed you too, idiot! That’s the whole point!” Katsuki grabbed Izuku’s hands with boyish aggression and dragged him towards the cabin. “Let’s watch All Might movies together. Then we’ll see the fireworks. You have to make it up to me!” All Might was always the most effective distraction, and quite unbeatable when paired with movement. 

Izuku half-ran to keep pace, blubbering indistinctly and tripping at every turn. “Wah! Kacchan! Slow down please.”

By now, stars had appeared, winking as if awake after a long slumber. And though Katsuki did not look at them specially, he was acutely aware. The stars reminded him of the boy whose hand he held so tight. After all, Izuku’s face was softly speckled just like the orange sky. Only more beautiful.

Katsuki slowed down to an almost crawl.

“That’s too slow now, Kacchan!” Izuku giggled behind him.

☼ ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ 

Mitsuki was a very eccentric and highly original woman. She either laughed at everything mockingly or got wildly angry. Katsuki preferred the latter, because to him it was less humiliating and also more navigable. 

When she saw him come in, dragging a dopey, chattering Izuku, Mitsuki erupted in loud, belly laughs with two dots of tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. “You brat! Look at you! Izuku, you made my brat so handsome!” she mocked. 

“Kacchan is always handsome,” Izuku said quizzically, tapping his chin. 

“Don’t laugh!” Katsuki shouted, reddening. 

“You have made a mess of yourself! Better thank Izuku for the flowers. Only thing saving you. God! The mess you have made! Those shorts were new, Katsuki!” Mitsuki looked him over, irritated. His nose was dirty because he had rubbed it with muddy fingers and his knees were scraped raw.

Izuku looked at his knees and gasped, running over to his mother in the kitchen, with his hands up above his head. “Band-aids! Where are the All Might band-aids?” he asked her, circling around like a fish in a bowl. 

“Izuku, sweetie. Calm down!” Inko begged, unable to understand him. He was swallowing half his words with all his wayward movement. 

“What is it that you need?”

“Band-aids! For Kacchan! His knees!” Izuku had said ‘his knees’ with his hand on cheek. Face all pale, twisted, and wholly remarkable. “Kacchan’s hurt!” he almost sobbed, voice splintering. 

Katsuki watched all of this quietly, wondering how to exploit the situation. It’s undetermined which one of his parents had passed down this quality to him. Mitsuki wasn’t so scheming, and was often more clear and candid than she appeared. And his father, Masuru, was a sweet-tempered man, rather confident in the way that things happened and never pushing for more. 

With slight embarrassment (of which Katsuki was proud, because his father always said that any work that involved some degree of embarrassment or the possibility of it was work worth doing), Katsuki crouched down, squirming in pain. “Argh! It hurts,” he said, soft but loud enough. 

Mitsuki, sometimes a raging skeptic, barked out a laugh. She laughed while looking him in the eye, meaning to say: I know what you are doing. You brat! I see through you. At this, Katsuki flushed more, but did not give up and actually started to act with more flair. “I scraped it real bad,” he said incredulously. Oh! Mitsuki could not stop laughing. 

“Mom!” Izuku whined, ill at ease, “Where are the band-aids? Quick, quick!”

Inko stopped working the stove, turning off the burner knob and checking to make sure that the blue flame had been put out. “They are in the cabinet in the bathroom. I’ll help you get it, sweetie. Come on.” Inko shared a series of quick glances with Mitsuki, placing a finger on her lips, and making disapproving sounds. 

“I’ll be back, Kacchan! Just wait,” Izuku said mournfully. He rushed his mother, wanting her to run to the bathroom with him. “Mom, I’ll fix Kacchan up, ok?” Inko nodded, trying to look sincere.

Katsuki dropped the act once he was sure they were out of sight. He had been very anxious all day to have Izuku’s undivided and adoring attention. Initially, he had convinced himself that having Izuku around was enjoyable because the boy was stupidly funny in the way he was. In the way he talked. Horribly earnest, mouth moving in never-ending spiels of concern or excitement—a constant whining of Kacchan! Kacchan!?  

But this reasoning did not hold up for long. Katsuki never laughed at Izuku, and would never even smile, but only stare in a way that made him feel gross, mushy and even sweaty. Ugh! What was it then that made it all enjoyable? He didn’t care to understand. It was nothing to him but enjoyable. That was the end of it. 

“How clever, you are Katsuki!” Mitsuki smirked. “Wait, till your old man learns of this!” And she started laughing again. She was laughing like a witch—cackling! 

Izuku ran down the stairs just then, both hands stuffed with red, yellow and blue packets of band-aids. He skipped a few steps in his haste, almost tumbling over. Inko shouted after him, but he was wilful. Feet pattering on the wooden floors, skidding as he slipped into the living room. He panted, looking amok. 

“Kacchan!” Izuku got down on his knees and inspected his wound properly. “Mom!” Inko placed cotton swabs and a mug of disinfected water on the coffee table right away.

“It might burn a little,” Izuku told Katsuki sheepishly.  

“Nothing hurts me.” Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Get up, dweeb. You look stupid.” Katsuki was careful to say this all quietly, lest Mitsuki were to hear and rain terror down on him. 

“Kacchan is really brave and strong!” Izuku agreed, scratching his freckles. Katsuki ripped his hand away. “Don’t do that, idiot,” he scolded, blowing hot air on the side of his face, making the smaller boy splutter and blush. 

“Sorry Kacchan,” Izuku mumbled. Katsuki rubbed his knuckles on the smooth plump of his chubby cheeks, stroking a heart-shaped freckle, as if to say it’s ok. He then straightened Izuku’s flower crown. 

“I am supposed to be taking care of you,” Izuku reminded him, smiling softly. 

Katsuki walked over to the couch and sat down. He was tall enough already that his legs didn’t dangle and swing the way Izuku’s did. “Make it quick. Don’t want to miss the damn fireworks,” he clipped. Izuku swallowed, turning to his mother. She gave him an encouraging thumbs up. 

“Inko-chan and I will be in the kitchen, ok? Yell if you need us.” Mitsuki smiled down at Izuku, ruffling his hair. The bouts of spasmodic laughter had thankfully passed, and had perhaps passed her for good. Though Katsuki suspected it would return with full force later when she’d give Masaru the run down. He shuddered at the thought, and Izuku mistook this shuddering for fear. 

Quickly he dipped the cotton and pressed it against Katsuki’s knees, as gently as possible. Izuku squeezed the swab lightly making water trickle down his own elbow. Katsuki had not reacted at all, barely registering the cool, damp feel. His eyes were trained on Izuku, watching with satisfaction as he looked after him. This was what summers together were about! Stupid Deku. 

“I’m done,” Izuku cheered, grabbing all the band-aids he had brought with him and spilling them on Katsuki’s lap. “Choose which one, Kacchan!”

“I don’t give a damn, Deku. You can choose for me,” he said, knowing Izuku would be delighted to give Katsuki his favourite one. He wanted to see that delight, that strange excitement, and the mumbling to follow after—which to choose, which would Kacchan like?

Izuku stuck his chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Well, the yellow one has All Might in his signature pose, but the blue one has All Might in his golden age hero suit which is Kacchan’s favourite era. But well, the red one has All Might in his number one hero pose, which is what Kacchan will be when he grows up. And isn’t red your favourite colour?” 

“Green is my favourite,” Katsuki corrected quietly. He looked at Izuku intensely as if challenging him. 

“There’re no green ones, Kacchan.”

“I know that!” Katsuki kicked him lightly. “Stupid, I have two damn eyes that work!”

“Don’t be mean, Kacchan!” Izuku frowned, grabbing the red band-aids. He removed the backing—pink tongue peeking out in concentration—as he aligned the sterile pad over the wound, all centred. Then he pressed at the edges with his fingers, making sure that there were no creases on All Might’s face. “There!”  

Katsuki looked at Izuku wrathfully, suddenly unsure of himself. A minute ago, he had been completely fine and even free of his usual concerns (all of which had to do with Izuku). Now, he was boiling over with rage at how the smaller boy had said ‘There!’ and how he had smiled after like he had done something great. Katsuki failed to realise that Izuku was happy without reason and happy only because of him, which was so plain a reason to him, that it was as good as not being one anyway. 

Izuku was heartbreakingly sweet, beautiful, pretty…words Katsuki always circled back to with a kind of forced coolness that had made admitting them a little easy. There were other words he didn’t acknowledge, but would at times flicker beyond his ambit. That’s what it was. That’s what had gotten him angry. 

He got up shakily and almost frantically, pushing Izuku back. The flower crown fell off the boy’s head. And this time, there was no one to set it right. 

Mitsuki returned from the kitchen at that moment, and seeing Izuku on the floor, flew down at Katsuki, pulling his ear. This made things worse. Every time that she told him to apologise he grew angrier at Izuku, so much so that he wished to not even look at him. 

“Kacchan,” Izuku called feebly, like he had never said his damn name before and like it weighed too much for his tongue. But Katsuki was resolute, he wouldn't turn to him. It was no longer a matter of pride or anger. He wasn’t being stubborn. He was just afraid. Izuku’s eyes, by now, must be filled with tears ready to fall. Leaving a trail down his freckled cheeks and hanging for a moment on his jaw. Katsuki didn't want to see it. 

“Stop, Mitsuki. This won’t do,” Inko spoke out calmly. She had stepped forward, hands around Izuku’s bony shoulders. Prepared to stand between mother and son. 

“Auntie, I am sorry,” Katsuki said abruptly, turning to Inko. He looked sufficiently disappointed and unhappy—all his temper gone as he addressed her. He sounded so genuine that Mitsuki let go of his ear and Izuku forgave him twice. 

“It’s ok, sweetie. You are best friends, aren’t you? It’s ok to fight. What is it that upset you, Katsuki?” 

Again Katsuki’s temper returned, without warning and with no explanation. He bit it back, growing restless. “I don’t…” He felt mad in every sense. 

“Sometimes we just get upset. Just like that. That’s ok. You have to be sure you don’t take it out on someone you love.” Inko smiled fleetingly. 

Katsuki wanted to correct her. He didn’t love Izuku. But he could manage no words. He was effectively paralysed. The door clicked at that second and everybody’s attention swivelled. All of Katsuki’s thinking slipped away from him. He could now move too. 

“Excuse me, I’m home. I got fresh apples! I wasn’t sure if you’d like red or green, so I got both, haha!” Masaru said, hopping on one foot as he undid his shoes. Mitsuki rushed to him, grabbing the bags from his hand. Inko followed close by. “Just in time, Masaru-kun! Dinner’s ready,” she said, clapping her hands together. 

“Ah! That’s all good Inko-san. Oh. Hmm…Mitsuki, all good?” He looked at her funnily, squinting. She sighed and shook her head. “Just Katsuki,” she said in a low voice. “It’s ok now.”

Masaru nodded, walking towards the children and scooping them up in a hug. “You weren’t fighting, were you?”

“Not at all, uncle!” Izuku said petulantly. “Kacchan got hurt!”

“No, I didn’t! It’s nothing,” Katsuki groaned, shoving his foot into Masaru’s sides and wrestling him half-heartedly. 

“Be good, children, ok? Don’t you want to see the fireworks?” Masaru put them down and looked at them seriously. He had said the magic word. 

“Fireworks!” The boys were inspirited. 

☼ ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ 

Katsuki was grossly observant. He knew five of Izuku’s tell-tale tics when he felt uncomfortable and afraid. It began with a fake, thin smile, cracked lips trembling and a wet sound of his gums stretching forcibly. Another was that he’d go weirdly silent. Only speaking when spoken to in a high-pitched nasally squeal that ruptured his words. Izuku’s hands would be folded on his lap, tightly clasped and rigid. And he never looked at anybody. 

During dinner he kept all this up, and scared Katsuki. He was sure that Izuku was angry at him, and because he was a damn nerd and never liked being angry, he was pretending that everything was fine. 

As soon as they were done with dinner, Katsuki cornered Izuku, ready to interrogate him. Faintly, he could hear his mother chatting away with Masaru, making fun of him, and Auntie Inko politely interjecting to soften his image. Realising and deciding at once that this wasn’t the right place for his very serious conversation with Izuku, Katsuki dragged him all the way to the couch in the living room, where Mitsuki’s grating laughter didn’t reach them. 

“What…what is it, Kacchan?” Izuku warbled. 

“Do you hate me?” Katsuki asked bluntly. “Be honest with me!”

“What!” Izuku screeched. “Hate! That’s such a strong word, Kacchan. It’s better to use dislike.”

“You damn nerd! Ok, shit. Do you dislike me?” 

“What!” Izuku screeched again. “No. Not at all. Never. I love Kacchan!” He said, offended yet smiling pleasantly. Briefly he returned to his normal, dorky self, and Katsuki felt something in his chest loosen. 

“Gross.” Katsuki wrinkled his nose. “What’s got you all fidgety then?” 

“Kacchan’ll make fun of me if I say,” Izuku mumbled, chewing on his lower lip. He linked his index fingers together and twisted them.  

“I do always. Get used to it, nerd.” 

“I’m scared of the fireworks.” Izuku wouldn't look at him.

“Can’t hear you for shit,” Katsuki huffed, grabbing Izuku’s round face between his hands and squishing. 

“Kacchan!” Izuku’s cheeks heated up. Katsuki felt the warmth spread under his palms. “I said I’m scared of fireworks! The sound, I mean.”

“Damn baby!” Katsuki said with humour and squished the boy’s cheeks again, harder this time. “What do you have to be scared of when I am here?” He puffed up his chest. 

“It’s loud,” Izuku complained, looking at Katsuki pointedly as if to say what are you going to do about that?

“I’ll cover your ears or something, dummy! Don’t be such a loser!” 

Whenever Izuku was scared he’d twitch his nose, and burrow his head into Katsuki’s side as if trying to become one with him would rid his body of its frightful shakes. Katsuki pretended to hate it, pushing his head away and calling him all sorts of names. But he never pushed Izuku too hard, never pushed him enough that he’d actually back away. And he never called him much except “baby” meaning to say that he was such a big, stupid baby. Only that it fell flat, and by the end, became a word of comfort.

“Ok,” Izuku conceded. He was smiling again, and it was one of those happy, trusting smiles that Katsuki really liked on him. 

☼ ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ 

“Will you make the candy apples with mom and I tomorrow?” Izuku asked, waddling behind Katsuki. 

“Sure, whatever. Deku, be careful there. The rock’s slippery ‘cause of moss.” Katsuki turned around pointing at a large, green rock that looked black in the dark. Izuku stepped right on, placing a careful foot on the ledge and flinging his arms wide for balance. Katsuki grabbed one of his swinging hands, and guided him down. Izuku turned to him beaming. “Thank you, Kacchan!”

“Shut up! You can’t do anything by yourself. You are such a princess!” Katsuki derided, pulling the ugliest face he could muster. 

“Oh my god, Kacchan!” Izuku squealed, hiding behind his hands. Katsuki pulled them away, smirking at his pink face. “Princess,” he said again. 

“Stop!” 

BOOM!

Izuku’s yelp was swallowed by the whistling sound of the firecrackers exploding in succession. He jumped at first, and then stood with his back straight watching them stock still, his mouth open in a perfect ‘o.’

Katsuki didn’t care for the fireworks up above. He saw them erupt in loud, crystal, star-like abstractions in Izuku’s eyes instead. His heart caught in his throat at the sight, almost as though it had replaced his Adam's apple and was bobbing up and down inside of him in an effort to leap out and fall somewhere near the smaller boy’s feet. 

Izuku’s unfocused gaze found his and he started to giggle breathlessly. “Oh! Kacchan, I don’t know what I was so scared for!” Katsuki didn’t know what he felt so scared for, either.

☼ ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ 

In the years that passed, Katsuki stopped inviting Izuku to spend the summer with him and his family at the cabin. It was a decision he had come to alone, earmarked for the day Izuku would turn seven. Katsuki, suspecting Izuku to be a late bloomer, had given him just three extra years to develop his quirk. 

The first summer that they spent apart, Izuku had questioned him timidly, more confused than anything. “Kacchan,” he had said, voice wavering around his name like never before. “Uh, I heard from,” he cleared his throat, and licked his lips a wet pink, “from Satoshi-kun that you are taking him and Sota-kun to the cabin with you. I was just wondering, Kacchan—I am not asking by the way! Only wondering. Umm. Did you—”

“Just say it, shitty Deku.” Katsuki’s insults had developed a sharper edge as of late.

“Did you forget to invite me?” Izuku spoke quickly, all in one breath, eyes screwed shut and his small, squishy hands balled into white-knuckled fists. 

“I didn’t.”

“Oh.” And that was that. For once, Izuku had nothing to say. 

That summer was the worst ever for Katsuki. He missed Izuku, but did not even allow himself to admit to it privately, and so convinced himself that the funny burning in his chest and lungs was a sign of hatred and not guilt. 

To make things worse, Satoshi and Sota were idiots. And boring ones at that. Katsuki sometimes forgot they were there. He went about his days in a hazy dream-like state, staring off into the distance. He had become inconsolable in his anger and did not even cheer up when he went to see the fireworks.

Last year, he had enjoyed seeing them bloom and fracture in Izuku’s eyes. The sky, to him now, appeared a pale and dull backdrop in comparison. 

When Katsuki returned to school, Izuku greeted him with a slight nod, like he did strangers. And Katsuki, like some kind of a creep, kept a watch on him constantly and without meaning to. Did Izuku hate him? 

They talked properly again before summer break, when Katsuki invited another set of people he didn’t bother calling by name. Chicken Wings and Scissorhands were his extras of choice for the summer. 

“You are not going to invite—”

“No.” Katsuki didn’t want to hear any more. 

“I didn’t mean me! I meant Satoshi-kun and—” Katsuki interjected again, clicking his tongue.

“No. They are boring.” 

“Is that why you won’t invite me?” Izuku had given up. He wasn’t desperate. He said what came to him out loud and was only slightly embarrassed at having done so. He had slipped past water and wasn’t fighting to come back up. Ready to move past his own question, to say something else.

Katsuki beat him to it. “That’s not why.” 

His answer did not seem to make Izuku happy. Where had Izuku’s optimism gone? His persistence? That annoying never-giving-up attitude? Was Katsuki that easy to give up on? Just like that?

Next year was even worse. Katsuki was sure Izuku hated him. He had expected some questioning from him again but all he got was “Have a great break, Kacchan!” and a tight lipped smile. Katsuki’s only consolation was in the name Kacchan. That Izuku had not given up on. 

Maybe—Katsuki would think as he lay awake late at night, head resting on his arm—Izuku didn’t hate him. Not completely. Not yet. 

Katsuki hated summertime. 

☼ ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ 

“You remember it, hmm?” Mitsuki hummed. Katsuki imagined her pressing the phone between her ear and the ball of her shoulder as she sewed. She’d only taken up the hobby recently, and he’d chewed her out for it. Real old of her, he’d said.

“Of course I do. I liked the cabin.” Katsuki wasn’t lying. He had liked it all those years with Izuku. 

“Mr Yamamoto has been thinking of selling. Last we talked to him, that’s what he’d been telling us.”

“He’s not renting it out no more?” Katsuki arched his brow.

“Yeah. He said that it’s a hell lot of maintenance work and he’s too old to deal with tenants. Pain in the ass, he was telling us.” Mitsuki tutted, laughingly. 

“I bet. I could never be a fucking landlord.” 

“Me neither. And now Mr Yamamoto as well,” she said, chuckling. “He’s just got to find a buyer.”

“Tell him that I’ll buy it, hag,” Katsuki proposed at once. He adjusted his phone to the other ear, leaning back all the way on his couch.

“What? What in the hell for?” 

“For use, obviously!” 

The cabin held new possibilities for Katsuki. He had to have it. On one hand, for atonement’s sake. Give back to Izuku the summers he had stolen from him. On the other, for purely selfish purposes. Katsuki had atrophied his guilt and shame over time, but it did always return to him in July, and now was the time to do something about it. He had done so much already. This was a little of what was left. 

“Katsuki,” Mitsuki said sternly, her voice more clear, perhaps she had stopped sewing, and was holding the phone in her hand. Pressed tight. 

“The way you and pop went there now and again, I fucking want that too. I want that with Izuku.” Katsuki heaved a long, resounding sigh that he heard crackling back at him on his mother’s end. 

“You told him?”

“You know the answer to that,” he said defeatedly. “No, I haven’t. It’s…with us it’s fucking different, ok?” He had in times of desperation hated the fact that nothing with them was ever fluid. Everything assumed a thick glue-ish consistency, drawing them together, making them inseparable and churning them around like candies in a chocolate coating machine. 

“Don’t hold back.”

“Have you ever known me too?” Katsuki cocked his head to the side.

“Well, you are my son, Katsuki.”

☼ ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ 

Izuku stretched himself out on Katsuki’s couch like a cat, licking his lips complacently. “Kacchan,” he whined, pressing the side of his cheek on the armrest. “What are you cooking?”

For the past year or so, since Izuku had returned to hero work, Katsuki had been dragging him straight to his home from their agency, to spend time together. He used no excuse the first time he had done it. And Izuku needed no convincing. It went on like that, without a reason, and without questioning. Katsuki would tell Izuku to come with him, and Izuku would follow. The arrangement was set. Sometimes it would be disturbed, and those days were Katsuki’s worst. Those days he needed Izuku more than ever to show up at his door with an apologetic Kacchan ready on his plump, nervous-bitten lips. 

A lot of Izuku’s clothes had burrowed their way into Katsuki’s closet. And a lot of Katsuki’s clothes had become Izuku’s to wear. He was sporting his skull t-shirt at the moment. It didn’t quite fit Izuku’s smaller frame, and Katsuki’s own heart grew full at the sight, not quite the right fit either. 

A level of comfort had grown between them that made Katsuki dizzy with reality. Some days he would wake up from a wonderful dream where Izuku was his, and then find him in the kitchen in his clothes, and wonder if it would be too inappropriate for him to walk over and press kisses to his slender neck. Katsuki had spent the last ten hours awake—an early shift, patrolling with Izuku in the afternoon, a minor villain attack at WholeMart, paperwork—so he attributed his stupid thoughts to that. Tiredness. 

He wanted to fuck Izuku on that couch. God. 

“Katsudon,” he replied, still hunched over the stove. 

“Wah! Thank you, Kacchan. Oh my god! That’s my favourite!”

“Don’t thank me, nerd,” Katsuki chided, sticking the spatula into the skillet’s handle. He turned around, and angled his head towards the cupboards. “Get the bowls out.”

“Aye, aye!” Izuku gave him a salute, stumbling out clumsily and barefoot. He pulled open the cupboards and inspected all the cutlery, like he hadn’t seen the same bowls and plates a million times before. “Green bowl for you?” 

“Yeah,” Katsuki grunted. 

“Bunny bowl for me,” Izuku sing-songed. “I still can’t believe you bought this!”

Katsuki had bought it for him. He had been out shopping and had made his way into the kitchenware section. A green ceramic bowl in the shape of a lettuce head with two little bunnies perched on the blades of the leaf had caught his eye. Izuku, he thought. And automatically put it into his cart. When Izuku came over to his house that night and found the cute bowl, Katsuki panicked and told him he had bought it by mistake. 

I meant to fucking grab the thing next to it. I must have been out of my damn mind. Tired and all that shit. And though Katsuki wasn’t a good liar, he trusted Izuku to be unsuspecting enough. 

“Shut up, Izuku. Bring the damn bowls here. And go put the mats on the table,” Katsuki barked out. He carefully pressed the rice in, poured the sauce on top, and placed the pork cutlets diagonally, giving Izuku an extra. “Careful, it’s hot,” he muttered, as his palms swaddled the bottom of the bowl, uncaring.

Katsuki pulled out Izuku’s chair, smirking as he blushed up a storm and stuttered out a shy thank you, Kacchan. Izuku distracted himself by rubbing his chopsticks together as Katsuki took his seat. “Itadakimasu!” They said in unison and dug right in. 

“Oh my gosh,” Izuku moaned, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Kacchan!” He didn’t let go of his name. Katsuki shifted uncomfortably. Grey sweatpants had not been a smart move. 

“Yeah?” he said hoarsely, staring at Izuku’s red-coated lips. 

“Mhmm! So good. You are going to fatten me up, Kacchan!” Izuku giggled through a mouthful.

“You are coming on a run with me tomorrow.” Katsuki loved spending his mornings with Izuku.

“Ok! I’ll come. We should race. You’ll be starting your morning with losing, Kacchan!”  He directed a heated look at Katsuki, eyes blazing with a gorgeous intent. 

“I’ll be starting my morning with you.” And that’s starting with a win . But Katsuki didn’t say that.

“Kacchan!” It was hard to tell if Izuku was annoyed or delighted. He looked adorable either way, and Katsuki found that he didn’t care which it was.

“Next week is your off,” Katsuki broke in after a long pause of easy silence. Izuku stopped mid-chewing. “What? Why?”

“My off too.”

“Why, Kacchan? Are we planning something? Together?” Izuku looked like he might explode with the ideas running through his head. Katsuki saw how his mouth fought against a tumble of words, barricaded by his teeth, and then his pressed lips. 

“Yeah, I have fucking planned something. A trip for the both of us. Just you and me.” Katsuki scratched his leg with one nail in an endless glare. He didn’t know what it was that made him so nervous. He felt he already knew Izuku’s answer. And anyway, he hadn’t asked. Because he knew. But more so because he was afraid. Katsuki’s stomach prepared for a drop. 

“Just us!?” Izuku's eyes rounded. “Oh. Yes! Yes, Kacchan! That would be so much fun! Where are we going?” He grinned like a schoolboy, fists vibrating in excitement. 

“You and me at the cabin, fuckin’ way back in Machi.” Katsuki wanted to see fireworks in their most beautiful form again. He wanted to eat the kind of candy apples Auntie Inko used to make. He wanted Izuku all to himself for the summer—like all those summers before. And he wanted to make it a habit for all the summers after. 

“Kacchan,” Izuku said with emotion. He was all set for waterworks. 

☼ ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ 

Car rides with Izuku were a unique business. It made no difference whether they were driving under a clear blue day, or were caught in a heavy sheet of rain—Izuku took co-piloting very, very seriously. 

They had set off on a particularly windy day. The kind that stripped their faces back of all moisture and cracked their lips. Air across the city had moved much slower, practically still around traffic. But as they made their way into stretches of empty half-baked roads, the air picked up pace as if racing them. It twirled dead confetti—thin, fragile pieces of nothing-trash. Blasting and tossing them, dragging across the road, disappearing into tattered grass brinks, neglected and floating down into pot-holed puddles.

The radio had gone static.

Izuku took to singing. It was a stupid country song that Kirishima had fallen in love with, and always hummed off-key during his patrols. Ever since an American intern had started working for him, Kirishima had taken great interest in American music. Izuku knew Katsuki hated country (he had angrily called it Bro Pop, which Kirishima had actually mistaken to be a compliment), and so he had made the effort to learn it by heart. 

The funny thing was that Katsuki had music he could play on the AUX to shut Izuku up. The funnier thing was that he was thoroughly enjoying the sound of Izuku’s voice, tripping some moments, and carrying an impressive note in some others. 

Eventually he tired himself out. Izuku had sung the only two songs he knew in rotation and had managed to irritate himself more than he had Katsuki. They resorted to small talk which took the natural path of bickering. The fact in question being who had a better sense of direction between them. All of Izuku’s logic began with praising Katsuki, and so he ended up proving against himself. 

“M’ sleepy,” Izuku mumbled, rubbing his eyes and yawning sweetly. Katsuki wanted to lick the inside of his mouth. 

“Then fucking sleep.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku trailed, shaking his head repeatedly. “I can’t sleep. I have got my eyes on the road!” With his first two fingers in a ‘v,’ he tapped his eyes and then pointed up ahead.

“Shut up. You aren’t paying attention to shit. Take a nap, idiot. Don’t want you fuckin’ tired when we get there.” Katsuki reached one hand out and quickly pulled his cheek. 

“Stop it! Aren’t you getting tired, Kacchan? Do you want me to drive?” Izuku offered, rubbing his sore cheek dramatically.

“And crash my damn car? Fuck no.”

“I am not that bad! Obviously Kacchan’s an amazing driver. You always have only one hand on the steering wheel, all suave and stuff. Kacchan’s just cool. But I can drive decently!” 

“You are sleepy, shithead, and I am not. Also you are looking at me, not the road.” Katsuki smirked. 

“Good night!” Izuku squawked. In any case, Katsuki was the better navigator—and the better driver. 

☼ ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ 

“It looks just the same.” Izuku spun around the living room. Starting to laugh softly as he did, with shaking, dancing shoulders. 

Katsuki couldn’t take his eyes off him. The way up to the cabin, he had been clumsy. He did not bother to see what time had done to the place, what had grown and what had died, what had remained and what had languished. Izuku, whom he saw every day and saw even with his eyes closed, was all he wanted to remember. Especially the sway of his hips and the way his shorts tightened around his meaty thighs, riding up to expose a sea of freckles as he climbed. 

It was important to Katsuki that he spent whatever years he could making great memories. He knew that the next few decades he’d have to spend reliving them. So it was a given that all his great memories involved Izuku (even better when they were only of Izuku).

Katsuki didn’t take in the space one bit. He saw it through Izuku’s eyes, nodding as he said that nothing had changed. Yes. Nothing had.

“Stop with your fuckin’ pirouette, princess,” Katsuki scolded. “You are going to get dizzy.”

Blood rushed to Izuku’s face so quickly, Katsuki was afraid he’d pass out. “Don’t call me that!” he shrieked, mortified and delighted all at once. 

“What?” Katsuki feigned innocence, walking slowly towards him. “Princess?” 

“Kacchan!” Izuku grabbed a pillow from the couch and threw it at Katsuki. It hit him right in the face. “Ha! Serves you right!” 

“Oh, you are fuckin’ dead, princess.” Katsuki’s grin was all teeth and danger. He charged forward and tackled Izuku onto the carpet. Then he gathered him into his arms and held him in silence, feeling the heat from under his skin. Katsuki held him as long as he could until they both began laughing uncontrollably, their chests heaving against each other, breath mingling—buzzing with a strange happiness that stung at the back of their throats. 

“How is it that it’s all the same?” Izuku suddenly asked. He was still in Katsuki’s arms. Neither of them ready to let go. They had stopped laughing. 

“I bought it. I bought everything." Katsuki said proudly. “The man was selling and I kind of like this shithole.”

“It’s not a shithole, Kacchan. And I like it too. Thank you for inviting me.” Izuku smiled so big his dimples popped. Katsuki wanted to slide his fingers into the cute dent on his cheeks and haul him in for a kiss.

“Don’t thank me, princess. There’s no one else I’d invite.” 

This is ours. 

☼ ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ 

Confessing under the fireworks was a wonderfully romantic notion. And for all it was worth, Katsuki was a wonderfully romantic man. 

The issue was that his full understanding of the romantic trade relied heavily on fiction. And that kind of stuff often skipped over the intricacies of reality. The characters were troubled in their pursuit for love by wholly exceptional fears and nerves, none that Katsuki experienced as soon as he decided on his confession.  

When to confess?

If he confessed within the first few days then he could spend the rest of his time in the cabin holding Izuku’s hand, kissing him…fucking him. He’d get to learn more about him, his body, his mouth. 

No one would ever be in more love than them in those days after, consumed by longing, alive beside each other. Time would contract and wring them of patience. 

Conversely, if Katsuki didn’t get a ‘yes,’ he’d lose the little he had with Izuku. Gestures he tried to pass off as platonic. Fingers in his hair, the swell of his freckled cheeks, grip on his shoulders…Katsuki’s hand would be stripped of tenderness. Just destruction in his hands. Capable of so little. 

He’d have to put the cabin up for sale then. He’d become a coward. How would Katsuki manage the next few days? Next few weeks, months and years? His whole life. 

But the same bad outcome persisted no matter when he confessed. Katsuki had designed his life around Izuku, before he’d become greedier. What of it, when Izuku didn’t share in his greed? 

The good outcome differed. In fear he may leave the confessing for the last day, and if a yes came his way, their week together would remain unexploited. And Katsuki had waited for so long. So, so long. He wanted to ravage Izuku, masticate him with his teeth, lick him and kiss him everywhere. Bathe him. 

In the end, the decision was made for him. 

Katsuki had prepared cold soba with flaky katsuobushi and fresh scallions to fight the summer heat. Izuku exclaimed something about Todoroki and snapped a picture to send to him. Immediately, he received a call from that bastard. They switched to video, chatting animatedly. 

“Bakugou, please take me with the both of you next time. I want to be with my best friends,” Todoroki said sincerely when Katsuki popped into frame. 

“All you want is to eat soba, fucker. Cut the call. I am with Izuku!” Katsuki scowled, snatching the phone away from his face. He ignored the whines of Kacchan and Izuku’s dramatic puppy eyes. 

“When are you not with him?” 

Katsuki hated the way Todoroki looked. Always so well-pleased. “With him ‘cause he’s not you. Izuku doesn’t fucking suck.” He walked away from the kitchen as he spoke, wanting to curse him properly without scandalised interruptions of Kacchan!

“Ok. But take me with you guys once. I am all trained. When I was rooming with Kirishima, and Mina would come over, I heard all there is to hear.”

“What the fuck.”

“I don’t mind if you both partake in intercourse while I am around,” Todoroki explained, smiling considerately. 

“Why the fuck would we do that!?! Icy-hot, shit, listen. We are not together.”

“Oh. But anyway, it’s inevitable.”

“What is? Us fucking or getting together?” Katsuki whispered desperately. 

“Both.” 

And there it was. The confession had to come sooner than later. 

Katsuki looked at Izuku now. He was snoring gently, head resting on his shoulder. They were two movies in when Izuku reluctantly gave way to sleep, cuddling up close to Katsuki, mumbling about how warm he was. Fuck. 

He pressed a ghost of a kiss on Izuku’s soft hair, unmoving and breathing into his temple. His lips lingered, almost dipping into a soft, closed-mouthed caress along his hairline, down to his forehead.

Katsuki would tell him during the fireworks. He’d tell him. 

☼ ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊

The rolling fields looked immense. Katsuki didn’t remember them to be so vast. They were now greener, grassier, with just a few sad patches of brown and yellow. 

“This is taking me back, Kacchan,” Izuku sniffled. He kitten-licked the candy apple Katsuki had made in the morning, red tongue matching the sugary coating. “Wow, Kacchan! It’s just like how mom used to make it!” he giggled, turning to Katsuki with a bright, toothy smile. 

Katsuki had specially asked Auntie Inko for her recipe. The candy shells she put together were delicate, easy to bite into, and not too overpowering. He knew how much Izuku liked them, and had wanted to perfect it. Eri had been his taste tester. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm! Do you want a taste?” Izuku brought the candy below his nose, blinking up at him like a pretty doe. 

That day alone, Katsuki fantasized for the millionth time about kissing Izuku. He wanted a taste, alright. And he wanted it from Izuku’s mouth. Just as he had been craving to see the fireworks from Izuku’s eyes. Every and any encounter was only memorable and worth it when it was through Izuku. Katsuki wanted to inhabit his senses. 

He bent down a little, and bit the crystal shell, looking at Izuku the whole time. The smaller man let out a shaky exhale, candy apple trembling in his hold. Katsuki wrapped his much larger, warm hand around Izuku’s, stabilizing him as he took another bite. Izuku reacted like Katsuki had sunk his teeth into him. He was even brighter than the candy apple. How sweet. 

“It’s good, right? Of course, since you are the one who made it, it’s perfect!” Izuku gushed, looking to the side and smiling inwardly. 

“T’s sweet.” Katsuki wiped the corner of Izuku’s lips with the licked over pad of his thumb. “Should’ve fuckin’ brought napkins. You’ll get all sticky and shit.”

Izuku swallowed down an embarrassing, delicious sound and moved his head so that Katsuki’s thumb pressed the line of his lips open, nail nearly grazing his front tooth. They both pulled back abruptly, staring at each other in astonishment. “Kacchan.” Izuku smacked his mouth audibly. The candy apple fell to the ground and Izuku broke out of his stupor with a start. 

“Oh! I am sorry, oh my god,” he whimpered, looking down at the webbed cracks on the glistening, red shell, mortified.

“Hey,” Katsuki said softly, hooking his finger under Izuku’s chin. “S’ ok. We have more. And I’ll pick this up before we head home. No big fucking deal.”

But that didn’t seem to matter. Izuku could only gape at Katsuki adoringly. Perhaps the stupor had never quite cleared. “Kacchan,” he began, but failed to say anything else after. 

Which was alright, because the fireworks started just then. Izuku’s eyes unfocused and his face lit up in strange colours. Like a petrol puddle on tarmac. Katsuki looked into his gentle green eyes, in a shaken, delirious sort of way, his own pupils dilating the way a diner’s do when food is brought to the table. 

“I love you,” Katsuki said quietly, completely enamoured and unaware. Izuku always unguarded him. Fuck. 

The reassuring thing was that the fireworks were quite loud. If he was lucky, he might have gone unheard. The unnerving thing was that Izuku was no longer looking at the fireworks, and was instead staring at Katsuki wordlessly and in disbelief. They were standing so close to one another, and Izuku always had sharp senses. Good ears on him, and eyes, and legs, and an ass…well, everything good on him. 

But even these pathetic, sensual and exalted feelings were not enough to restrain and distract Katsuki from the horrible, bone-crushing and mind-numbing fear that spread through his whole body in one instantaneous sweep. Quickly he went through full sentences rhyming with ‘I love you.’ When nothing came to mind, Katsuki remembered that this had been his plan all along. He was supposed to be confessing. And he was even willing to snipe down a few points on the romantic chart for having simply blurted it out without his (planned and prepared) words of appreciation for Izuku preceding it. 

He could start now, he decided. It wouldn’t bog down what had been said. And Izuku deserved a full, proper confession. 

“When we were kids you freaked me out, because you were so focused. You knew what you wanted, and even when everyone told you that it was difficult, you didn’t let it fucking deter you. That really scared me. You are so intense, Izuku. That’s the trouble with you. That you are intensely strong, and intensely beautiful, and I am intensely in love with you. 

“And you are also fuckin’ passionate and convincing and you are sometimes ungiving, but you give so much too. Your students! I have seen you with them. I have seen you around civilians. Always fucking lifting the whole world up. I hate how determined you are. 

“You are stupid too, by the way. You forget about yourself which always fucking annoys me.  Because, look, I tried forgetting about you when I was fourteen and it didn’t fucking work for shit. You follow me everywhere!” Katsuki pointed a finger at him accusingly, smiling despite himself. Ok. He was going to be sniping a few more romantic points from his mental chart. This was not the speech he had worked on in the bathroom. 

“Not physically follow me. I mean even when you distanced yourself, you were there. How can you forget yourself, when you are all I can fucking think about? You know,” Katsuki licked his lips, grabbing Izuku’s arms with a crazed look. This was good. He was going to scare him away. 

“I can fucking hear your damn voice when you are not with me. When I am forced to patrol with Shitty Hair, or Icy-Hot, or that Pink Alien, or that Yellow Buffoon—I mean anybody that’s not you—you know how they survive from a blast to their faces, hmm? Your voice in my head. And I don’t mean a stupid conscience thing. Just your voice. Enough to calm me down.

“Everything is worth it with you, that’s what I am saying. Being a hero is worth it with you. Those days I was forced to slave on the streets without you? Fucking unbearable. Even then it was the memory of your voice and your face playing in my head in an infinite loop that kept me going. 

“I let you run along in my head so much. Only time you are not running is when I am with you. Shit, look! I am fucking becoming like you. I am rambling, right? Fuck. I want you. You are fucking perfect and it pisses me off. Please, Izuku.”  

Katsuki would have set an explosion to his face had Izuku not spoken. “What!” he gasped. “Kacchan?”

“Impossible for me to recite that again, nerd,” Katsuki joked lamely. 

“No. I-uh, I heard you. I wasn’t expecting…” That was all Izuku could manage before he began to cry. 

“Shit, ba-Izuku. This wasn’t supposed to upset you.” Katsuki hastily wiped his tears, murmuring sweet nothings, and almost calling him baby again. Then like an idiot, he used princess as a replacement, which thankfully Izuku didn’t catch. 

“You said that I was,” Izuku blubbered, his lips slipping and spilling from between his teeth, “You said that I was stupid, when really you are stupid.”

“Hah?!” 

“You think that would upset me? Why would that upset me? Why would it when I love you. And I have loved you forever. I have loved you before I even knew what love meant. Have you seen you, Kacchan? Do you know you?” Izuku was laughing now. Still his tear-stricken cheeks were not left dry. 

“You are big, strong, and amazing. You’re really handsome!”

“Big and handsome?” Katsuki grinned crookedly, raising an unimpressed brow. His hands still all over Izuku’s face.

“Not only that!” Izuku whimpered, his chin wobbling pitiably. “You have a great heart, Kacchan. You always push people to their best. You push me to my best. I love being with you, I love you.”

“Fuck, ok.” Katsuki lost a bit of his bravado, resting his head on Izuku’s small, shaking shoulders. “I was scared. You do that to me. You scare me.”

“That’s cause you really love me, right?” Somehow, Izuku managed to not sound cheeky.

“Damn right!”

“Kiss me, please,” Izuku begged, brows scrunched like he was doing a difficult math problem in his head. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Katsuki snarled playfully, hands diving for Izuku’s waist, palming and squishing immediately with violent desire. “C’mere.”

Izuku pushed himself against Katsuki, sliding their bodies together. He stood on his tippy toes, looking at him anxiously. How could Katsuki resist?

So, he kissed Izuku. He kissed him and he felt as though his body was falling through space and time. He felt his insides tremble, drumming needlessly to course out of his body and touch Izuku. Katsuki had thought he’d be careful with kissing, with taking Izuku into his arms. But he was so sure now. Sure that this happiness was final, that he could never be unhappy again. Not when he filled Izuku’s mouth with his tongue, not when he heard his name choked out between the small seconds that their lips didn't rush towards each other. His name and not a gulp of air. What! Did Izuku’s lungs not burn? 

And as Katsuki kissed him, down to his neck and his cheek, clumsily on his lips again, he felt the heat of Izuku’s body increase, exhaling wildly under his touch. Katsuki opened his eyes ever so slightly to see Izuku. 

He was such a multitasker. He could hold him, and he could kiss him. He could see him, and he could feel him. Katsuki was doing it all. 

Separating for a moment, they touched their heads together, laughing into each other’s faces. Katsuki leaned in and Izuku met him half way. Kissing again. It was like jumping back into water, on one of those long days by the lake, when they were children and when they had just got out so they could go back in again. 

Katsuki dislodged his mouth from Izuku’s plump-bitten lips wetly, before leaving a quick, chaste kiss. And then another. And just one more, which was his final. Izuku giggled, roaming his hands around Katsuki’s muscled back, circling dips and tracing lines. “The fireworks have stopped.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Katsuki murmured. 

“We should head back in.” Izuku gulped, suddenly shy, like Katsuki’s tongue hadn’t been down his throat a minute ago, tasting whatever remnants of both candy and apple.

“Yes, we should.” Katsuki nodded, smirking. He squeezed Izuku’s hips in warning of what was to come, and watched with pleasure as the smaller man grew even shyer.