Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was funny, Katsuki always thought, how the biggest adventure of his life began with the ending of another one.

Eijirou refused to call it an ending, of course. The night he had came up to Katsuki, he promised they would still live together, hang out, all of that stuff. And as much as Katsuki hated the pity behind those petty words, the days where he would’ve reacted too strongly were gone. Maybe two years ago, he would’ve stormed off and refused to talk to the man ever again because he didn’t need him anyway, never did - he would be just fine without his shitty hair and shitty girlfriend getting her shitty pink glitter all over their penthouse.

That was why, two weeks after Eijirou had dropped an EP and announced his solo career to the world, they were sprawled out on the couch and crossfaded to high heavens. Legs tangled together, TV blaring. Still in their rumpled fancy clothes for Dunce Face’s party, Katsuki not even bothering to clean off his eyeliner. Two kebabs and a large meat feast pizza headed to them, 12 minutes away, according to the delivery app.

It was such a typical scene for them that Katsuki, in his hazy brain, could completely forget that AP Shot was no more.

“Dudeeeeee,” whined Eijirou petulantly, eyes glued to the obnoxiously large flatscreen, nudging Katsuki’s ankle with his elbow, “Why won’t she respond? I literally triple-texted her today alone.”

“Why the fuck is a place called Lunch Rush even open at four in the morning? That makes no sense.” Katsuki blinked blearily, eyes still fixed on the progress of his order, following the little cartoon motorbike inch closer and closer to their apartment building. Maybe if he stared at it, the little motorbike would hurry up instead of being stationary at the intersection for five minutes. Seriously, what the hell could the driver be doing?

“Like she can’t still be mad at me over the premiere. That was almost a month ago!”

Eijirou kept bugging him, like he always did when he was drunk and didn’t know anything else but to stare at her interviews and press appearances. It was even worse now that they had had some sort of argument three weeks ago that had Mina completely ignoring him. Katsuki could hear her laugh now from the speakers, nearly spooking himself into believing she had infiltrated their apartment by her pink, glittery forces of evil.

He didn’t hate Mina, though he wouldn’t admit it to her face, or even himself. Over the past year, she had actually made a really great effort in getting to know Katsuki, and he could say that perhaps their conversations weren’t as bad as pulling teeth. They liked a lot of the same music; despite her bubblegum-pop albums, she had a real appreciation for the rougher, grittier work they did as AP Shot. She only became an entirely unwelcome presence at their shows when Eijirou would wrap his arms around her in the dressing room and stick his tongue down her throat. When she would finally break the kiss, lipstick smeared beyond all repair, and smile at Katsuki with those pearly whites, running her pink tongue over canines that would extend in front of his very eyes.

He did not hate Mina. Rather, he resented Eijirou, for finally realising that Katsuki was not good enough to be the most important person in his life.

It was true - from the day they had met, Katsuki had treated the redhead like he was the last person on Earth he would want to be around. Eijirou made his insults feel like a real way of communicating though, that he could see through the expletives into what he really meant, before Katsuki even could. Even though he’d made all that progress with his therapist these past two years, he couldn’t soften his tongue when talking to his best friend, couldn’t wear down twenty-three years of hard-won callouses. He still treated him like shit, after all that, just a little less shitty.

It wasn’t as if they weren’t allowed to have partners. Over eight years of friendship, including the six years of being AP Shot, Katsuki had accrued a number of lovers fitting for the rockstar he was, all fizzling out as quickly as they had sparked.

The longest lasting one was six months, and Katsuki owed the length of that relationship to how busy he was during their first world tour. It protected the man from too much exposure to Katsuki, barely seeing him in person for five months, but all tours must come to an end.

Eijirou was far from inexperienced with relationships too, but he was able to keep people around for longer, so they were much fewer in number. And it wasn’t like he didn’t shower his past girlfriends with affection, he could tell you that for sure.Yet even Katsuki could admit that Mina was different, that she stirred up something in his friend that wasn’t awake before. There was a look of contentment in his eyes he just didn’t have once in those three years with Kendou, nor in his year with Camie.

Maybe Mina and her offensively bright outfits had been what Eijirou needed. That the excessive bling had somehow shone some light and reflected that Eijirou could do much, much better without him.

Katsuki purged the thought.

He zeroed back in on the delivery app. “He stopped at the intersection, now he’s not moved from Walnut Street in six minutes! This is ridiculous at this point, what the fuck is he doing, taking a shit? Kebabs taste like ass when they’re cold.”

“You’d know how ass tastes li- oh!”

Eijirou broke briefly from his Mina trance to make his crude joke, a cushion meeting his face with vigour before he could finish his sentence. He shrugged it off to run his eyes back to the interview. Katsuki deigned to give her a brief glance, his head more focused on thinking up what he would say to the delivery driver.

It was a daytime television interview from that morning, a post-premiere promotion of the silly chick flick Mina had been working on the whole time Katsuki had known her. Mina was the female lead in a plot that was cheesy and overdone. Something about a pop star who goes back to her small town to visit her grandparents and ends up meeting her playground sweetheart?

The film was apparently a huge success, Lord knows why. He couldn’t tell you any more about it - he never attended the premiere, throwing his gilded invitation in the bin, making Eijirou go alone. Nobody was making him watch that kinda bullshit without a gun to his head.

She sat on a plush red couch, absolutely glued to her co-star. Now he understood why Eijirou seemed so annoyed.

Stacked with rings, one of her tanned hands was interlaced with the man’s distinctively scarred and knobbly ones. She was constantly leaning into the guy, moving excitedly with the energy that Katsuki expected from her. Her trademark pink hair was in a short, curly bob, and it bounced as she nodded along to whatever that man was saying. She looked like she was wearing a disco ball. It was some silver little number with mirror panels that reflected light everywhere - probably gave the lighting team a collective aneurysm when she walked on-set.

“Most of all, it’s been a joy working with Izuku! I’ve said this before, but I was completely starstruck when I first met him. My family and I used to watch Heights Alliance religiously - it was, like, the only show we ever agreed on!”

Grudgingly, Katsuki recognised the mop of green hair Mina had decided to latch onto. Midoriya Izuku was not a man you could avoid, unless you lived under a rock. Katsuki had tried avoiding him. He found something about that freckled face and those stupidly large eyes so punchable, like he was try to convince the country that he was some sort of genuinely nice guy. Sure, Katsuki hadn’t met the man yet, but he could smell a rat. Rather, he could smell a carefully constructed PR narrative, like the type their manager always tried to impose on him.

Despite actively avoiding anything he was in, Midoriya had spread himself into society like lice in a nursery. Katsuki had to settle for ignoring him. It was the result of being in the spotlight since he was four years old and babbling something inane on that boring sitcom he never bothered to get into. Katsuki couldn’t even pick up a shampoo bottle without seeing his smiling endorsement.

“You know what, I get why you don’t like Midoriya Izuku now.” Eijirou grumbled, as Midoriya recounted some bullshit about being a huge fan of Mina and always listening to her album Potent on the way to work. Mina lapped up his obvious lies, tilting her head admiringly.

“I can’t even look at him, even though he was super chill at the premiere. It’s not even like he’s doing much, she’s the one who’s playing it up though. Trying to make me jealous or something.”

“You reckon they’ve fucked for real yet?” Katsuki dodged the cushion thrown back at him. “Or did they already do that in the stupid movie?”

As if echoing Katsuki’s words, the interviewer went in for the kill on the pair of giggling co-stars.

“You two are definitely close! Has the romance has continued off-screen, or did it end after that fan-favourite scene in the barn?”

The interviewer said this with a conspiratorial wink, like she was simply one of Mina’s girlfriends and not like the starving beast she was, ready to pounce on whatever they could feed her.

Scene in the barn, however. Did they really have sex in a barn? Katsuki was somehow more glad he didn’t attend that premiere.

“Ah, Mina is absolutely amazing, and I value her friendship far too much! Pop Rocks was such a wonderful experience, and it brought us together. I’m so glad that people are really connecting to the love story - we really worked hard on it.”

Quick shutdown. Measured follow up. Controlled. Tone warm. Words friendly. It couldn’t be perceived as a snub to Mina, it was too sweet and complimentary. Answering the question, but somehow, dancing around it. The result of twenty years of training, an upbringing trapped behind a lens, surrounded by liars.

“I don’t believe him for a second! They’re all over each other.” Eijirou grumbled, waving his hand at Mina’s whole body tilted towards him, the arm wrapping around her shoulders. Katsuki agreed silently, too crossed to remember to say it out loud. To Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku must’ve been one of the biggest liars of them all.

For reasons that he was still trying to work out, his brain marked Midoriya Izuku out as a target that night.

Maybe it was the combination of the night of drinking and the joint that Sero guy offered them that had them calling a cab immediately after. Add that to seeing Mina’s pink-faced mug smiling at him onscreen after she made Eijirou so pathetically sad. It could be the bottled up resentment from trying to react like a normal person to the fact that Eijirou had left him, and that he didn’t know who he was without being in a duo. Without Eijirou by his side.

The ugly feelings tried to break down the dam that he had built in order to try and be an actual friend to his best friend. They were relentless, targeting every corner of his foundations to find that sweet spot where it would all come rushing out. The pressure that had been growing these two weeks threatened to push its way out, to push Eijirou way, way out of his life for daring to convince him that he would stay.

So, as irrational as it was, Katsuki released some of that pressure right onto Midoriya Izuku’s stupid face. It wasn’t like they ever interacted, anyway - and in his defence, he thought they never would, at the very most a hasty introduction at an event. He was very good at ducking out of those.

From that evening on, it was a one-sided war. Every time he saw his doe-eyed face on a screen or a billboard or a damn packet of crisps, instead of ignoring him, he’d focus his scarlet eyes onto them like they could turn into lasers and explode that cursed celebrity.

A year passed. Eijirou’s annoyance for Midoriya would pass too, very quickly, when he sorted things out with Mina, and he’d barely be in the apartment to hear his shouts of “Why’ve they got to put him in every stupid advert?”. During that time, Katsuki had released a single that had done well, but considering the buzz from AP Shot’s split, not the numbers his team was expecting.

Meanwhile, Midoriya’s voice had managed to penetrate his ears unavoidably, with some sappy ballad he sang for some romance drama. Instant chart-topper.

Anyway, he still had most of their public appearances with Eijirou, probably so Katsuki would even go to them, but the other man was so busy promoting his new album to even be around and take notice of Katsuki. In fact, Eijirou - the Judas that he was - even invited him to a steakhouse dinner with Midoriya Izuku, stating that Mina had them meet up again and “he’s really cool, I swear!”. Katsuki told Eijirou where he could stick his steak, needless to say.

To Katsuki, the face of that man grew to represent everything he hated about stardom. He’d even gotten his grubby paws on Eijirou, via Mina, and they’d meet all the time apparently - though he had the sense not to invite him over to the apartment. One time, when he sat in front of the pair in a fashion show, Eijirou reached a hand to tap him on the shoulder, and Katsuki damn near crushed it in warning.

There was no rhyme or reason to it. He was guilty, Katsuki supposed, of the crime of being there. For being everywhere. For shoving his fake ass in front of a camera, and getting lauded for being so ‘genuine and sweet’. When Katsuki was a PR nightmare for his agent because he dared show feeling, when he was being painted as some sort of villain. When the whole media were painting this narrative of him pushing Eijirou out of AP Shot and despite the lies and gross misrepresentations of their characters that they had come to to get to that conclusion, Katsuki was so scared there was a scrap of truth underneath it all.

That was why he hated Midoriya Izuku in the beginning.

Eventually, their paths had to cross. They would be forced to meet properly, irreversibly, because the great Midoriya Izuku had to invade Katsuki’s life like he did the screens of the world. His hate would transform from this silly, one sided resentment to a celebrity, into something balanced, much more intense and targeted. When Katsuki had to give into the fact that he couldn’t just dodge the pest at award shows and galas, that both his public image and horrifyingly, his private life too, was tied to his.

Soon, that forest green hair would turn into thorned vines that would reel him in slowly at first, then swallow him all at once. They would pierce through his skin to his very core, rushing at him too fast for Katsuki to slash them away before they had become a part of him.

It would be soon - sooner than he thought - but not yet.

Enter Yagi Toshinori, with the opportunity of a lifetime.

Chapter Text

Katsuki’s manager had essentially forced him out to the charity gala the evening he met Yagi Toshinori, despite extensive protest from his side.

She had told him to quit his ‘tantrums’ or she’d sign him up for something worse, and that the other people she worked with didn’t usually throw a fit over being invited to a fancy party with some of the most powerful people in the country, all for a good cause! Katsuki obliged, partly because he did not have tantrums (he was twenty-five years old, for Christ’s sake, he just had strong disagreements), and partly because he knew that she would follow up on that threat.

When they were three years in the game, Katsuki had dropped out on one stuffy dinner too many, and she’d made him and Eijirou guest star on a children’s sketch show. God knows why, but they had to overheat in these stupid furry dog costumes, and woof the tune to their song ‘Gunpowder’ into a giant, pink, inflatable microphone. If that wasn’t humiliating enough, he was hungover as hell and kept getting told off for swearing every two seconds by the director. Thank God, there weren’t any actual children on set.

That was the last time he pushed his manager too far, having learnt the limits of her patience. Katsuki knew that he’d used up his “get-out-of-jail-free” passes earlier, with his lacklustre attendance to social engagements in this forced solo career. It was always his least favourite part of the job, Eijirou carried them on every appearance. In fact, he’d only really agreed to the gala because Eijirou had the time for once.

Still, looking out at the company he had around him at the table, made him stab at his tenderloin with distaste. He should’ve put on the damn dog costume, sweaty fur and all.

Charity galas were the worst sort of event. People were here for many reasons, but none were to fight for the “Urban Youth Homelessness Awareness Campaign’, as catchy as their name was. Sure, some random homeless kids might sleep somewhere a little warmer after tonight, Katsuki had to give them that, though he wasn’t exactly trusting of these charities and their bureaucracy. Earlier in the event, Katsuki scowled as a pair of children made a speech to thank their ‘benefactors’, with their gap-toothed smiles as if they truly thought this was ever about them in the first place.

It might be about the endless champagne and hors d’oeuvres that floated around on trays during the reception. Maybe, the chance to dress up, wearing outfits so stunning the servers in their drab uniforms would just fade away. At the cost of thousands per seat, the food could be a reason too, five courses of pure indulgence that Katsuki did not have the appetite for. The writing on the menus were always ten times more descriptive than they needed to be. He reckoned you could put a frozen pizza on that menu, and they’d still find a way to call it something stupidly pretentious.

It was definitely about who could publicly give the most money, giving them more weight in the balancing act that was high society, giving them a sweet tax relief in return. It was definitely about the photo ops, the paparazzi catching proof that yes, what a good person they were, they truly do care about whatever the cause of the week was. Just look at the ribbon on their lapel!

Most importantly, it was about walking inside that closed event and getting their mouths moving. Not a penny was wasted on the poor children, no, it was all an investment to make the most valuable connections they could. The seating arrangements were carefully arranged for optimal social cohesion. During the reception, guests would dart around a room, ready to chomp down on whatever business cards and new acquaintances they could make. Katsuki hadn’t checked the guest list, but a quick scan of the room confirmed that people were getting their money’s worth, familiar faces popping up everywhere, leaning back and forth into each other in conversations.

As for him, he wasn’t talking to anyone by the third course. The people next to him had tried including him into their conversation, but gave up quickly when Katsuki didn’t give anything more than monosyllabic answers. Eijirou had the attention of the other half the table, telling the story about the time his van had broken down in the middle of nowhere on their way to their first larger gig outside of the university, the one they were scouted at. Their audience nodded and laughed along eagerly, feeding off of Eijirou’s energetic retelling, hanging off his every word.

“-ended up getting there like forty minutes after we were supposed to and I had my head actually in my hands, like, I couldn’t handle the embarrassment. And the venue’s manager was staring us down when we finally pulled in to their car park, I remember he had a cig in his hand and he just pointed it at us, dead silent. Then he started pointing the lit end at me like ‘you begged me to give you two kids a chance, now what time do you call this?’ and I swear, I actually gulped. Then he turns to Kats here and he’s just making this face like he was trying to make that man disappear… yeah, exactly like that!”

Eijirou gestured at him, which got him a good round of laughter at Katsuki’s expense. Well timed, like a laugh track in a shitty sitcom.

Katsuki didn’t think he was making a face, but noticed the tension in his facial muscles and realised he’d probably started scowling at some point. Probably since the journey. He smoothed his face into a tight smile. He likely looked a bit constipated, but it was the best he could do in such dire circumstances.

“So the man brings the lit cigarette really close to Katsuki’s face all of a sudden, like thisssss close-” he made a pinch gesture in the air “-and he’s trying to freak him out or something, and honestly, it should’ve with the amount of hairspray and gel we had back in those days, we could’ve burst into flames!”

“Really gives a new meaning to ‘Explosion Murder’, huh?” quipped Yamada Hizashi, the owner of their record label, and by extension, their asses.

At least he was nice enough, although extremely grating to be around. He laughed with the two extras listening to the story, his obnoxiously loud voice audible to the whole hall.

Katsuki cursed the event planner for seating them so closely. Could he bill them for hearing damage?

“Exactly! He brings it all the way up near his forehead, and just turns to Katsuki and lets it all out on him. That there was a schedule with these things, that every second counts, that we were holding everyone else back. And Kats, he just stares him down when he’s yelling at us and says- what did you say to him, Kats? Tell them what you said!”

“I asked him if every second counted, what the fuck was he screaming in my face for when we could get moving now?” deadpanned Katsuki. There were gasps from the table, even from Yamada, who had already heard this story at least three times.

“And then, you won’t believe it, Kats here, he just grabs that cigarette from his fingers, stubs it out under his boot, and tells me to start unloading the equipment from the van! They have this whole staring competition after, and I was sweating like a pig-”

Katsuki tuned out the rest of the story. He didn’t understand why Eijirou kept telling it to everyone, it made both of them look like a pair of dumbasses, himself even more so. It was Eijirou’s stupid fault the van broke down, and Katsuki’s move with the cigarette was beyond idiotic and representative of a disrespectful attitude that could’ve killed their career before it had even started. It was a miracle that the venue manager couldn’t find anyone else to perform under such short notice, and that they even ended up performing on time in the end.

The meal dragged on slowly, as if his watch was trying to taunt him. Between the courses, he could no longer hide behind the guise of eating, and a pitiful excuse for a ‘conversation’ ensued, and Katsuki really did try for Eijirou. He stayed by his side and nodded and ‘smiled’ along to what was being said, as he felt his tethers to his body loosening.

Nodding and smiling and nodding and smiling and nodding and smiling and nodding - he felt like a damn bobblehead.

Why weren’t they on the dessert yet?! He didn’t even know what stupid anecdotes and pleasantries were being exchanged in front of him, he was a marionette being dragged limply across a stage. Everyone was constantly laughing, he noticed from somewhere far off, and what was with the excessive laughter? None of them were particularly funny, but they were acting like they were all God’s gift to comedy. It was stabbing his eardrums, just like that fucking string quartet that kept playing the same shit over and over and the room was too warm, so warm all of a sudden and different waiters kept offering to top up his glass when he already said no to the last one and why was nobody listening to him so keep nodding and smiling because when he got like this-

“Excuse me, guys, but can I steal Eijirou here from you for a moment?” said Katsuki smoothly to their table, mustering all the energy he could to look like a functioning human being. His head hurt, he felt like he was full of sludge, barely held together by a shell of human skin.

He didn’t wait for their assent as he guided Eijirou away from the hall, he didn’t answer his questions as he took to a secluded corner near the cloakroom. Eijirou’s red eyes looked up to Katsuki’s expectantly, searching for a reason why he could’ve dragged him away in the middle of some story.

He must’ve found something in his frantic gaze, as he felt two hands on his shoulders.

Solid. Warm. Real.

“Hey, man, it’s all good. You’re in the Blossom Hotel for a gala, you’re near the cloakroom, I’m here with you.”

Katsuki exhaled roughly, then pulled in a breath, four seconds long.

Hold for four.

Exhale for four again.

Hold again for four.

Back in for four.

“You’re doing great, keep going.” coaxed Eijirou, and Katsuki wanted to be angry at how damn patronising his tone sounded.

They were past that, though, past any false notion of dignity on Katsuki’s part. Somewhere along the sixth time that Katsuki had gotten like this, he’d given up and let Eijirou tend to him patiently. It was fucking dehumanising, how his body took away his control over something as stupid as a boring gala.

How Eijirou would always come in with that damned looking of pity, curling open his white knuckled fists, whispering words in a low tone that would soothe him like a fucking baby.

At the very least, it wasn’t as frequent as it used to be. Those times on tour when his sleepless body and ringing ears made everything so much more sensitive. Once or twice a week, the utter lack of privacy on that bus would get to him and Eijirou would take him to his bed, wrap his arms around his pathetic body.

“It’s been a while, huh.” Eijirou commented, neutrally.

“Yeah.” Katsuki replied.

A beat.

“Thanks for that.”

“No sweat, bro.” Eijirou said as he lowered his arms from Katsuki’s shoulders, but they flapped around awkwardly by his side.

Some more silence. He couldn’t tell you how long it went on for.

Katsuki realised this was the first time he’d been so vulnerable to Eijirou since he had left the band. Eijirou must’ve realised it too, because there was something in his expression.

Guilt?

Pity?

Concern?

Frankly, he wanted none of the above. He loathed the part of him that would always want to go running to Eijirou when things got too loud. He was tired, too tired.

Eijirou opened his mouth just as Katsuki did.

“Let’s get ou-”

“I’m out of here.” Katsuki interrupted. He didn’t need Eijirou to offer him an exit. He was perfectly capable of running away like a little bitch by himself, he thought, but Eijirou walked over and was already asking the cloakroom attendant for their coats.

“No. Can you leave his coat here please, he’s not leaving?”

“Kats-“ Eijirou protested, hands wringing by his side. The cloakroom attendant was bemused, eyes darting between the two of them. Katsuki growled at the notion of being perceived and waking up to headlines of some gossip rag about him being the crybaby half of AP Shot. He dragged Eijirou out of the attendant’s earshot by his wrist.

“I can handle this. Stay at the stupid event.”

“But it’s no trouble, I mean we live at the same apartment!”

“You don’t live there.” Katsuki hissed, exhaustion giving away to frustration. “You’re there one night a week, like it’s some sorta fucking love hotel and I’m your dirty mistress.”

“Seriously? I’ll come over more often if you wa-”

“Oh, fuck right off with that.”

“You mad at me? Was it the cigarette story? I told you, it doesn’t make you look bad!”

“I don’t give a fuck about some stupid fucking story!” Katsuki shot back, voice more raised than he had intended. His eyes darted around for any prying eyes and ears, but the attendant was engrossed with something on his phone. Thank fuck.

“I’m not dealing with this shit now. Stay wherever you want, the apartment or Mina’s, I promise you I don’t give a fuck. Just leave me alone.”

Eijirou gave up there. Forever the saint. Meanwhile, Katsuki would forever be the whining, screaming burden that he had always been.

He watched his back as it disappeared behind the door into the hall, ready to go back to a glass in his hand and at least three people hanging onto the ends of his sentences. As if this whole exchange had never happened.

Katsuki had never existed at that table. Eijirou would probably explain his absence away easily, maybe a stomach ache, or that he had one too many glasses at the reception, perhaps? Then people would wave it away with some joke about the food, they would laugh a whole lot and that would be it.

Tidily left behind.

Right here, earbuds playing, sitting on a bench in the little park outside the hotel, Katsuki felt as if some life force was coming back to him. Wrapped up in his massive, brown fur coat, he was safe from the freezing air, and there was even the lightest touch of rain. It was so light it could barely be called rain, and didn’t even put out the cigarette he had between his fingers. The feeling of the ghost of water like little sparks on his hand wasn’t entirely annoying, and Katsuki usually hated the rain.

He’d tucked his signature blonde spikes into his worn down “University of Kamino” baseball cap he always carried around, even though it clashed with his fancy clothes horrendously. That usually was enough to not get him recognised immediately. It was more of a precaution, since it was pretty much abandoned here, and with such low light as well.

Katsuki wasn’t even too mad about his driver saying he would come late, due to some accident on the highway. Standstill traffic on the west side of the city. Some sort of accident. He couldn’t blame his driver anyway, the man didn’t expect to be needed back for hours. Besides, those annoying people from the gala wouldn’t come out for ages, and they would certainly never go out to the park in the shitty weather.

It felt like an ending to the night.

Probably, the best possible ending, considering the way the gala had gone for him. Sure, he could sense that Eijirou would want a conversation about the apartment stuff tomorrow, and their manager was going to be on his ass for leaving so early.

It wasn’t all bad, though, this ending. A sick guitar solo playing in his ears, nobody to bitch about him risking his voice with that cigarette in between his fingers. He never understood why everyone got onto him about them like it was the first time he had ever heard they were bad for you. Besides, Katsuki would never be so weak to have a nicotine addiction - he really only had the pack of Marlboro Golds ready for when he was drinking, after all.

There was nobody here to say anything, anyway. Katsuki was alone tonight, for better or for worse.

A tap on his shoulder.

Katsuki swore, putting the cigarette between his teeth and taking out an earbud. He cocked his head at the offensive presence.

Surely Eijirou hadn’t tracked him out here? That would be too far, not his style. When Katsuki said fuck off that many times, he knew he was being serious.

No, the figure looming above was a lot scrawnier than Eijirou, judging by the shape. He could barely see him in the poor light, but he was probably taller than him to. Definitely just some awful posture, the way he was hunched over. There was something there in his murky appearance that immediately began to bother him.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Sorry to bother you, son, but do you have a light?”

A low voice, slightly raspy, distinctly familiar.

Definitely an old guy, confirmed by what the dim streetlights revealed of a wrinkly face. He was wearing a well tailored suit, so probably not a homeless guy, despite his haggard look - maybe someone had crawled out of the gala early? He really hoped it wasn’t someone he was supposed to know. His manager would have his head.

“Well, you’ve bothered me already, haven’t you?” Katsuki grumbled, but he put his earbuds away in their case and palmed around his coat pockets anyway. He may be a shitty gala guest, but there was an etiquette to these things.

As he passed his lighter over wearily, he peered at the man as he stepped closer. His straggly hair was light, probably blonde. Could he be that older cousin of Hizashi that had been bugging him and Eijirou for hours at that music festival? But no, he would’ve clocked who he was by now, with the way he was around them almost as much as the mosquitoes.

“This is a very nice lighter, where did you get it from?” The man remarked, turning the zippo between his fingers.

Katsuki scoffed. Obviously, it was a very nice lighter - it was vintage All Might, Silver Age. Limited edition, with the words ‘I AM HERE’ engraved on the back in bold. Back when he was in high school, he’d taken the bus for two whole hours to meet some creepy middle aged man from Facebook Marketplace for it. He had to wait in a back alley for so long, he was sure the stench of piss had followed him home.

He wasn’t going to tell some stranger how valuable it was, even if he was definitely some rich guy from the gala. Especially not with the strange feeling he had about him.

“Got it online. You using it or what? It’s not a damn decoration.”

He felt panic creeping in. Maybe he would run off with the lighter after all - how stupid of him to hand over something so important! Sure, it wasn’t crazy expensive, but getting another one would be such a hassle, and he would never find one at such a steal.

“You an All Might fan, huh?” That voice nagged at him, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. Like he was more important than some random gala extra, but who?

“What’s it to you?” Katsuki retorted, getting up to snatch it back, smoker’s etiquette be damned.

“Easy, boy! Just don’t usually see people your age into him, is all.” The man chuckled, popping out a cigarette from a metal case, popping it between his lips, wizened fingers shaking. He flicked open the lighter, inhaling sharply.

His face was only illuminated by the flame for a second. Two seconds, at most.

That was all Katsuki really needed to see the curve of the jaw, those unmistakable twinkling blue eyes.

After that, his brain was able to add around forty five kilograms in muscle, smooth out the wrinkles and put some pomade on the two limp blonde strands in the front to get them to stand to attention.

Yagi Toshinori.

Fucking All Might.

He couldn’t slow down his thoughts if he tried. After all, he couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t a fan of All Might, or everything made by UA Studios for that matter. Plus, Yagi Toshinori had quit acting right after the All Might films, forty years ago, and stopped all media appearances soon after.

The last he had heard, he’d become a very successful screenwriter, even taking on UA projects, but still was a complete recluse. What the hell was he doing here for some schmoozey gala? He had so many questions, he didn’t know where to start.

Katsuki also knew he had to control himself. There were so many artists and actors he really looked up to, childhood heroes, only to absolutely despise them in person.

Yagi Toshinori could be an actual dick. Probably had to be, being a hermit and all. Maybe he had a personality that had to be hidden away. He couldn’t say something too ‘fanboy’, but it would be such a waste to not acknowledge him, and he was taking too damn long short circuiting about all this anyway, so just say someth-

“Holy fuck, you’re Yagi Toshinori.” He said, tone completely devoid of emotion. “Fucking All Might.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Spending all that time thinking, and that was what he landed on? And what kind of reaction to being starstruck makes someone sound like a robot?!

“Wow. You really must be a fan if you can recognise me like this, especially in the dark like this!”

Toshinori tipped his head back, and laughed heartily, smoke escaping from his mouth and curling in the air. If there was any doubt in his mind, it was cleared right away with that sound. It took him right back to countless nights in front of the TV, his mother telling him to give it a damn rest.

He handed the lighter back straight away, and Katsuki had to hold back the urge to gasp when their fingers brushed.

Great. Was he some sort of teenage girl from forty years ago? Why was he swooning over All Might touching his hand?

“I loved the All Might comics and movies. Still do.” He said brusquely, teeth gritted. He didn’t want to stroke another celebrity’s ego, but there was no way he could act completely indifferent to him. “What are you doing here though? I thought you were a shut-in now.”

“Do you mind if I sit?” Toshinori asked politely, standing a couple steps away. Katsuki nodded roughly, and he sank down into the bench. “Well, I was at the event in the Blossom Hotel. You’re very nicely dressed, son, were you there as well?”

“Yeah. Thanks. Still doesn’t end for another two hours though.”

“Oh, I couldn’t stand it any longer. Reminded me why I quit this type of thing. Every car in the city is caught up by that pileup in the west though, so here I am.” Toshinori said with a light grumble, and Katsuki caught himself nodding along. “You weren’t feeling it either, I’m guessing?”

“How could you tell?” He deadpanned, pulling out another cigarette from his pack. Why did he have to be so mean? So far, Toshinori wasn’t even am asshole. It was like his mouth wasn’t listening to the input from his head at all. “My manager is punishing me with this because I skipped out on too many things. This is just fucking disrespectful, though.”

“You can say that again. Truth be told, I was only there because I’m on the board for the UYHAC, and I wanted to try and push for donations. The kids are really wonderful and you see, I was homeless-”

“When you were twelve, yes.” Katsuki filled in automatically, then immediately began to splutter angrily when he saw Toshinori’s head tilt in curiosity.

“Don’t look at me like I’m some sort of fucking stalker fanboy! You just mentioned it in two of your interviews, and there aren’t that many!”

“You’re a really big fan, huh.” Toshinori chuckled through his belligerent word vomit, then took a pensive drag of his cigarette. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I’ve asked for your name yet, son. Really rude of me. Care to give me an introduction?”

“Bakugou Katsuki. I’m a musician.”

“Anything I’d know?”

Katsuki sized him up. He was sixty five years old, according to his totally normal fan knowledge. Probably 40 years older than the top end of their target audience, he remembered from an analytics meeting.

“Not sure, old man, might be a bit beyond you.” He smirked, unable to fully kick his cockiness - even in the face of greatness.

“You might have heard “Heart of Rocks” or “Explosion Murder” though, that was while I was in a duo named AP-”

“AP Shot, yes! I probably listened “‘Explosion Murder’ about a hundred times last year, it was on one of my work playlists.” Toshinori exclaimed, excitement in his rasp with his recognition. He began to hum the tune, even adding a little nasally air guitar with his free hand.

Katsuki turned to him, unable to stop his mouth from opening in an ‘o’.

Just after he’d begun to get over the initial ‘I am actually talking to Yagi Toshinori aka All Might aka my childhood hero’, he had to deal with a new wave of ‘I am actually talking to Yagi Toshinori aka All Might aka my childhood hero who has also actually listened to my music.’

It was so bizarre, he bit the tip of his tongue to make sure that his brain hadn’t decided to taunt him with a dream so fantastically cruel. When he was sure, sure that his brain had ended its reign of terror with the gala incident, and that his tongue was definitely sore, he let the words fly out of his mouth.

“Why the fuck do you listen to my music?” Katsuki shouted, unable to regulate his volume in his shock.

“I like to listen to music when I’m writing, so I had an intern draw me up a playlist based on the mood I was going for with a project. Your song was actually a great source of inspiration! I must thank you and that other amazing fellow on the track, couldn’t have done it without you two.” Toshinori recounted with a smile in his voice, as if it was a casual thing to say to Katsuki that he, Yagi Toshinori himself, was inspired by him.

His words failed him this time, opening and shutting his mouth uselessly, so Toshinori filled in the gap.

“Now, I also want to know, why the fuck have you watched my movies?” spoke Toshinori in a loud and harsh voice, mimicking Katsuki’s outburst perfectly - had it not been for that signature smile that stretched from ear to ear, “Most people your age are more familiar with ‘The Tales of Shimura Nana’ from UA. Are you a bit of an old soul, young Bakugou?”

“My uncle had me watching them every time he babysat me, before I could even speak. Then he got sick and died and left me his huge UA collection in his will.” Toshinori’s face dropped in sympathy. Katsuki brushed it off. He wasn’t trying to give him a sob story, it was just the truth.

“You can hold the tears, old man. He died when I was too young to remember. Anyway, I doubled his collection by the time I got pocket money, and you don’t even want to know how big it is now.” He took a final drag of his cigarette, stubbing the butt out in the bin next to them.

He fidgeted a little, an unavoidable question tugging at his lips. “I gotta ask, though, what the actual fuck was the ending to Golden Age?”

Toshinori chuckled good naturedly at the mention of his most controversial film, running a hand through his light hair.

“Well… let’s just say I wasn’t particularly happy about it either. Essentially, after the final battle-”

An easy conversation about UA Studios began to play out - or maybe “easy” and “conversation” were generous terms from Katsuki.

The floodgates had been opened. It was somewhere between an interrogation and an impassioned speech. Embarrassment wasn’t a feeling too familiar to him (why would it be? He was the best, after all!) but it crept up slowly with each word, as the torrent burst past his lips. Why did the series seem so unfinished, his thoughts on whether All for One survived or not - all qualms about seeming like some nerdy fanboy were off the table in the face of his hero.

Toshinori was gracious with his responses, offering tidbits of insider information every few sentences. In regards to his speculations, his answers began with “I can’t say for sure, but-“, and Katsuki could barely hold back his shock at his revelations.

There was a tone of mirth to Toshinori’s responses. To his horror, Katsuki couldn’t quite tell whether it was mocking, but he definitely seemed to welcome the conversation. If one of his own fans approached him with this many questions, Katsuki would definitely cut them off around the one minute mark, but Toshinori tipped his head back with laughter and leaned in to listen to Katsuki’s every word.

Dignity be damned, he was at least glad that the light was low enough for the definite red tinge on his face to be invisible.

“And yeah, they really did Nana justice in the series, and I didn’t think anything could be better than the comics. Personal preference, she’s got nothing on All Might and Dynamight though. Blackwhip as the best villain, no question. Easily one of the most interesting character arc, they have to animate him or make a live action of Symbol of Justice, I don’t know, but they’ve gotta make something to watch.”

Toshinori coughed, slapping his own chest briefly. Katsuki sent him a puzzled look, but he grunted for him to continue.

“Live action would probably be a better idea - I feel like the dynamic between Dynamight and Blackwhip is something that needs human expression. Like when I read the comic I felt like those tensions almost jumped through the page, but with a pair of strong actors with great chemistry, you’d really have something remarkable there. The type of character driven vibe UA’s been lacking with their TV and film since, well, All Might.”

Toshinori had an unreadable expression on his face, eyes narrowed, but it didn’t quite read as hostile. Katsuki reached the end of his impassioned speech and flushed, realising he’d been talking way too much. At least he can’t see how red his face was, Katsuki thought again, as he checked his driver’s location. He seemed to finally be moving normally, around five minutes away.

Great. It would’ve been even more great if the traffic could’ve cleared before he just embarrassed himself so thoroughly! Now Toshinori definitely thought he was some weirdo fanboy, with an immature perspective on UA Studios’ strategy.

He shifted on the bench awkwardly, wishing that the floor would swallow Toshinori up, so he wouldn’t be able to say he’d witnessed such stupidity from Katsuki.

“Have you always wanted to be a musician, Katsuki?” Toshinori asked, tone friendly but changing the subject, at long last.

He must finally have gotten tired of him. He felt blue eyes on him, stabbing right through the dark to sink themselves in his skin.

“Uh. It was my dream to be the best, show all those shitheads from high school what’s up, y’know, and I’ve fucking done that now, haven’t I?” Katsuki said bluntly, with no need for false modesty. There was a heavy trophy cabinet to speak on his behalf in his study.

“I’m not sure if I have any milestones left that I want to hit in music. I’ll probably keep going, though, it’s all I know at this point. Taking a bit of time off because I released a single last month, and my team is telling me to write an album soon.”

He paused, remembering how much he had gone on rambling before. Toshinori probably thought he was some sort of egotistical bastard, bragging and chatting away.

“What about you? Your performance as All Might was legendary, why did you stop?”

Katsuki’s phone beeped, definitely the driver. He didn’t dare reach into his pocket to check. Instead, he dedicated his gaze to the skeletal figure at his side, who was releasing a shaky breath.

He could see a ghost of that Herculean man in red, white and blue. Smiling in the face of catastrophe.

“Life gets in the way, my boy, it really does. It’s a long story that doesn’t end so pretty.”

A non-answer.

Well, Katsuki was very curious, but he was no hungry journalist. Toshinori was probably gnawed upon by that looming question for decades, chewing on his spirit even in his own solitude.

The mood went flat.

Shit. That question was all too personal. Way too personal! Katsuki made the horrifying realisation that he had definitely scared him away, and the silence between the two cemented that idea in his head. It twisted around Katsuki’s throat, stifling any attempt to revive the embers of their discussion.

Two beeps, but Katsuki didn’t feel the vibration in his own pocket. Toshinori’s phone.

“Ah, my car’s finally arrived. I’m assuming yours has as well.” Toshinori rose from the bench, and Katsuki nodded dumbly as he followed suit.

They began to walk to the taxi rank. Toshinori began making some comments on the state of traffic in the city, and his condolences to those people in the accident, and how the council really needed to do something about that roundabout. Katsuki grunted along, helplessly aware that their conversation was losing substance by the second.

Toshinori was going to leave now. So was Katsuki. Would they ever speak again?

Katsuki’s throat began to grow a thick lump.

With the knowledge that this could be the end, that he could very well go on never seeing the man again, he threw that lump to the side. He could deal with the consequences later.

“Toshinori.” Katsuki began, voice steady for once that night.

“You said that your story doesn’t end so pretty. You don’t need to tell me your whole life story, I don’t give a fuck, I’m not with the fucking Musutafu Mirror or something.”

He spotted his car, pulling in at the side of the road. Katsuki gulped, nodding a brief acknowledgment to his driver.

“But I’m someone whose life has been shaped by your work, and what I can tell you is that your story never ended.”

He shifted awkwardly, aware that he was overstepping. Overstepping again!

“That you don’t have to leave it on a low note, is all.”

Toshinori was now fully lit by the headlights of his car and the hotel’s entrance, so Katsuki could truly appreciate the man standing in front of him, the layers in his expression. His eyebrows were pinched together, so thin and blonde they were barely there anymore. Shadows carved contours into his face, making him somehow more gaunt than before. They even tried overshadowing his bright blue eyes, but he could see the blue glint of surprise in them.

There came the embarrassment, an old friend by this point of the night. What the hell was he doing? Katsuki was never all mushy like this, especially not for a stranger. That was way too personal for a random guy on the street, that he was being borderline parasocial with how much he was talking.

“Katsuki, you remind me so much of someone, it’s actually funny.” Toshinori half-laughed, signalling his own driver to stand by with an open palm.

“Well, they must be the fucking coolest person around.”

“I can promise you that, my boy.” Toshinori assured him, and Katsuki didn’t think he’d ever get over seeing those twinkling eyes in person.

Katsuki didn’t know if this was the reaction he was expecting, but he felt a sense of closure for being able to get something out that he’d wanted to say for years.

“Well, son. I’m very happy to have met you, I genuinely thought my night was going to end with that awful excuse for a charity event.” Toshinori said warmly, honestly.

“Yeah. Me too, that would’ve been shit.” Katsuki stood awkwardly, hands kind of flapping by his sides. “Well, uh, it was nice meeting you.”

Of all the things to say.

Katsuki began to furiously march over to his car, ready to curl up and take apart everything he had said that night on the drive home. He was so deeply disappointed at how badly his thoughts seemed so completely divorced from what was spilling from his tongue. This happened every time he tried to speak to people with anything softer than guns blazing contempt, and he’d paid the price with it on All Might.

Years of being desensitised to celebrities should’ve helped his conversation skills. Eijirou would’ve had Toshinori as one of his new buddies by now, probably would have called him up on a Saturday night to go hang at one of Kaminari’s parties.

Instead, Katsuki was worried Toshinori was contemplating a restraining order. Why did he have to say he knew that he was homeless when he was twelve? He had truly fucked it, he thought, as his driver stepped out to open the door.

When the doors closed, the driver wound up the divider, as he had been ordered to from the beginning of his contract. Being closed in again finally let the adrenaline of the whole night escape his body, as intense regret clocked in for its shift.

Katsuki had made a fool of himself twice that night.

First to Eijirou, who he’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t be a burden to anymore. Then to his childhood hero, if matters could get worse. As they drove away, he made a point to not steal another glance at Toshinori from the window. He did not know what he was scared of seeing on the man’s face, but he knew looking back at him would make it all worse.

He stored that regret through the night in the empty penthouse, Eijirou not making one of his rare appearances to their own home. His phone was on ‘do not disturb’, but he was sure there were notifications from the guy awaiting him. It was pointless turning that on anyway, when it took him a whole extra hour to go to sleep after he’d gotten ready. Tossing and turning didn’t suit him.

It ate him away through the day. He kept replaying the conversation in his head, constantly stopping at the worst parts. While he was writing, in the gym between reps, in the practice room fucking around aimlessly on his guitar, the full weight of his blunders and the state of his life at that moment hit him in the face. It pulled on him more than it should’ve, for all of Katsuki’s reminders to himself that this was a stupid thing to be obsessing about.

He turned his phone off DND to push himself into going back to normal, or whatever normal was. More than the usual flurry of emails popped up that he swiped away automatically, skipping past them to check his phone calls.

Sure enough, two missed calls from Eijirou, one from the evening and one after lunchtime. Probably a courtesy call, to make himself feel better about leaving Katsuki. He could deal with Eijirou’s guilt later, however, in the face of six missed calls from his manager in the last hour. Accompanied with a message that said “Call me ASAP!!!”

What the fuck had he done now?

He winced, thinking of whatever cruel and unusual public appearance would be awaiting him for ignoring her. Was it leaving the event early? Surely not worth six missed calls, especially not with all that urgency. Plus, Eijirou should’ve covered for him.

Did he need to check the news first? The last thing he wanted was reporters up his ass. A quick search of his name on social media brought up the usual wave of shit, the normal dating rumours, the stupid romantic edits of him and Eijirou, theories about the AP Shot split - nothing particularly new.

His finger waved above the call button, before he pressed it firmly.

No point being a pussy about it. He’d done that quite enough for the past twenty-four hours.

“Bakugou! So now you pick up!” Her voice held its usual tone of exasperation, but not quite the disappointment he was expecting.

Something else was there, though.

“What’s the emergency?” he grumbled, still unsure whether he was in the clear.

“I tried to get you to join an online meeting at 15:00, but you didn’t see my email. How many times have I told you to check them every morning, and to not put your phone on DnD if you’re not doing anything important!”

“Huh? What online meeting, what are you even talking about?”

Katsuki switched tabs to his calendar. His team already knew he was ‘taking things easy’ for this month before returning to working on a solo album. He had batted away every pestering part of his schedule that he could feasibly get out of, and he was certain there was no online meeting today.

“I set it up in the morning! You’re meant to check these things, and I know for a fact you weren’t busy.” She retorted, with little bite - it was the millionth time she had said something like this after all.

Suddenly, her voice lightened, as if she’d let go of the pointless task of berating Katsuki. “Well, since I’ve just gotten off that meeting, I suppose I can fill you in. And also congratulate you for whatever the hell you did at that gala! Here you were, telling me it was such a waste of time, when-”

“What the fuck do you mean, what I did?!”

Katsuki felt his heart drop at the mention of the gala, but confusion stopped him from fully feeling that regret again. There was certainly nothing to be positive about, but his manager was rarely that happy these days. With his lack of productivity and blatant avoidance of all commitments, Katsuki hadn’t given her any reason to be happy with him for ages, Lord knows.

“Getting all buddy-buddy with UA, of course. I mean, I was hoping you’d talk to Earphone Jack or her team about a collab like I’ve told you to, but I really cannot be mad when you’ve done this! I just never really saw it as your style, y’know?” His manager continued cheerily, as if she was deliberately trying to annoy him with her vagueness.

UA?

Toshinori, of course, but what could he have done? For the first time, a glimmer of hope began to emerge - Toshinori reached out to him! He didn’t think he was a stalker, or at least, he hoped.

“What the fuck do you mean, not my style? Get to the point, lady!”

“Well, you’ve never expressed any interest in acting before! I’d usually divert this away, but I mean, it’s actually UA, come on - and the guy I just got out of the meeting with said the director was really insistent about having you audition, even though there’s a really quick turnaround on that. Something about casting being extremely delayed because they couldn’t find someone with the right vibe, but that the director somehow saw it in you last night?”

She chatted excitedly, ignorant to Katsuki’s splutters of frustration.

“I mean, I know I always tell you to ‘act like a person who wants to be here’ at public engagements, but I didn’t think that translated to actual act-”

“Just spit it out!” Katsuki shouted, his hand squeezing his phone to the point it could break right there.

He couldn’t even form thoughts about what she was saying. Katsuki didn’t dare infer more from the words “acting” and “audition” in regards to UA, didn’t dare hope for the obvious meaning of these words. His mind was completely clouded beyond all intelligent thought, and he needed her to spell it out for him before he could jump to the conclusion himself.

“Fine! UA Studios has invited you to audition for the role of Dynamight, for a film adaptation of ‘Symbol of Justice’. You happy now?”

Katsuki’s hand went loose.

His phone clattered to the ground.

“Hello?? Bakugou? Where’d you go?”

The tinny voice of his manager continued from the floor - it was her turn to be confused.

Katsuki quickly picked his phone up and slammed the red button to hang up, breaths coming rough and heavy.

“What the actual fuck.” Katsuki whispered, to an empty room.