Chapter Text
In a random coffee shop, his life blooms with color on a cold Tuesday morning.
A man enters the cafe and the bell rings overhead, drawing Shouto’s attention. The stranger surveys the room the way one does when entering a new space and his eyes meet Shouto’s by chance in a moment that should pass quickly and without note.
He’s heard stories over the years. Stories of how seeing color for the first time was simultaneously the most breathtaking and devastating experience of a lifetime because it wasn’t just the sudden vibrancy of the world, it was also the inexplicable helplessness of being thrown face first into unyielding destiny.
Once, when he was small, he’d asked his sister how he would know who his soulmate was and she’d smiled, You just will.
And he does. The world slows, his vision tunnels until the space around him , his fated one, falls away. Hair like sunshine and ready to be wished upon dandelions. Wearing a jacket that feels like earth, and a scarf that reminds him of the way dark chocolate tastes, wrapping around a mouth that is shaded like a first-kiss.
But it’s his eyes that hold Shouto prisoner. Their color is made of intensity. Burning hot with danger and crashing in waves like passion. It dances with desire - tempting, aching with the need to be close. The color of a coy smile that promises mischief and excitement. Fire, the very essence of life captured within something untouchable.
It engulfs him, pulls him in and under and drowns him. In a single moment he becomes a slave to those eyes. To that color. To this man.
Now he knows rapture, he knows ecstasy - understands how he’s heard this moment described as both fear and bliss, the marriage of those two emotions being exhilaration.
But the man looks away, pulls his phone from his jacket and tucks his head as he begins to scroll casually - as if he’s not the reason Shouto’s world has just expanded in a way that has left him fundamentally changed and as if he hasn’t just experienced the same shift of his reality.
Blinking himself from his daze, Shouto pushes back from the table at which he’s transferring his written notes into a word document on his laptop. He walks up to the man with sunshine hair, his movements are clumsy as he accidently knocks his hips into chairs and tables. “Hi,” the word rushes from his mouth and Shouto feels as though he’s lost complete control of himself. He’s not the type to start conversation with a stranger in the middle of a coffee shop.
Sunshine looks to him from the corner of his eye and his disinterest could not be more apparent. “ ‘Sup.”
“Uh,” he replies with all the intelligence of a wet rag. “I’m writing a book.”
Sunshine’s face pinches, eyebrows drawing together as his expression narrows. “Good for you,” he turns to face forward.
“Well, I mean, it’s not really a book.” Shouto feels like a fucking nussiance. He may be a bit slow on the uptake with sarcasm but he’s very familiar with the feeling of general irritation and his presence being unwanted. But he can’t help himself, he’s compelled in the same way animals are when they migrate south for the winter. “It’s more like a booklet .”
This time Sunshine does not turn around and so Shouto is forced to continue making himself feel like a complete dumbass. “I’m Shouto.”
They move forward in line and Sunshine sighs heavily as he pockets his phone. “Yeah, and I’m not interested.”
A few of the people around them visibly cringe at how hard Shouto is bombing. He’d cringe himself if his sole focus wasn’t on - he’s not really sure what . Trying? Talking? Getting any sort of reaction from his soulmate other than complete dismissal? “I’m, uh, I’m not - do you - Can you tell me what color my sweater is?” It’s a pretty standard question as far as unfated dating goes, universal code for, hey, wanna waste time together until we find our soulmates?
This at least gets a sharp, though utterly exasperated, smirk from the man he is clearly bothering. He turns on him, looks at Shouto’s sweater and then pins him with that inferno-like gaze. His eyebrows scrunch together, his frown deepens and he even pulls his head back as if truly inspecting his clothing. This makes Shouto hopeful but then the man clicks his tongue and his expression hardens into one of annoyance, “I have no fucking clue, man.”
Shouto looks down at his sweater, “Oh, well, neither do I.”
He takes a moment to consider the color and after some thought he remembers it being labeled navy on the tag and, upon seeing it for the first time, he decides he likes it quite a bit. Though he wonders if the orange pants beneath him match. He thinks that he must have misread the tags that would indicate if they belong to the same clothing collection.
With a roll of his eyes, Sunshine scoffs, “I gathered as much.” Turning away again he steps up to the counter where the barista asks him a question. Though Shouto can’t make out what it is she says her face says it all, excited eyes and the same smile that is worn by the cat that ate the canary. “Don’t.” Sunshine says with a heavy, warning growl, “Just get me the same as usual.”
Shouto steps up close, knowing he is behaving like a creep who can’t take a hint. “Can I pay for your coffee?”
A whole conversation passes in the locked gaze of Sunshine and the beaming woman manning the cash register. With a lazy roll of his head, “If I let you pay for my order, will you leave me the fuck alone?”
Resolutely, Shouto nods his head, “Yes.”
“Fine,” Sunshine looks behind Shouto and addresses the next person in line. “You want a coffee man?” He tilts his head in Shouto’s general direction. “This dipshit’s paying.”
“Oh, a large vanilla latte but I was also going to get a bagel with cream cheese.”
“Perfect.” Leaning a bit further out he speaks to the person taking up the back of the line, “What about you?”
They wave their hand in an attempt to not get involved, “I’m fine.”
“Suit yourself.” Sunshine turns back to the cashier, “Did’ya get that, Mina?” She nods, a bitten smile on her face as he continues, “Add in a breakfast burrito and make my coffee a double.”
“Sure thing, Katsuki,” she says with an entertained lilt in her voice.
Slowly, barely above a whisper, Shouto repeats his name. “Katsuki.”
“Fucking hell,” Katsuki mumbles to himself. “What? You plan on saying some dumb shit about liking my name or whatever?”
“Uh,” Shouto finds himself struck dumb so, unsure what to say, he continues with his first tangent thought, “No. I was just thinking that I really like cats.”
“Cats?”
“You know. Cats like Katsuki.”
Katsuki stares at Shouto like he’s just admitted to being a flat-Earther and the barista slaps a hand over her mouth in a poor attempt at containing her laughter. Shouto doesn’t quite understand what’s so shocking or funny but trying to figure it out distracts him and he ends up handing over a few too many bills to the cashier, Mina as he’s learned, and mumbles, “Keep the change.”
They step away from the counter and Katsuki snorts, “You know you just gave her, like, a three hundred percent tip, right?”
Shouto glances fleetingly at Mina as she counts her tip bill by bill. “Oh,” he says a bit dumbly. “Well, that’s okay I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Well,” he says again like he has the vocabulary of a middle schooler, “she’s the only reason I know your name now.”
Scoffing, “Lucky me.”
Remembering what Katsuki said earlier. “I do.”
“Do what?”
“Like your name.”
Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose and makes a noise that’s part way between a groan and a chuckle. To himself, “Fuck me, man.” He sighs. “Thanks or whatever.”
Shouto can’t help but to smile, “It’s not just because I like cats either.”
“But liking cats is part of it?”
He takes a moment to think this over seriously, “Yes, I suppose it is.”
A small shake of his head, “Good to know.” Shouto hovers awkwardly and just when he’s about to say something else that’s undoubtedly embarrassing, Katsuki speaks. His tone is mostly disinterested in the way you might make conversation with somebody in an elevator, “What’s your book about?”
He perks up, heart jumping with unwarranted excitement when one takes into consideration how bland the question is. “It’s - it’s not exactly a book. More like -”
“Kats,” Mina calls loudly, “Anybody by the name of Kats. ”
Katsuki scowls and then pushes forward to where she has set down his coffee and burrito. He snathes both items away from her and drops his voice to a dangerous tone, “You aren’t cute, you fucking alien.”
Sunshine incarnate turns around to clear the space in front of the counter and takes a small sip of his coffee, the taste of which seems to melt away his frown. Picking up where Shouto left off, “Yeah, it’s more of a booklet. You already said that.” He walks past Shouto towards the door, “Get some new material next time.”
Shouto feels his heartbeat increase, “Next time?” A grin spreads over his face, “I can talk to you again?”
Katsuki reaches the door, pushes it open with his hip and shrugs without once looking at Shouto. The bell overhead jingles and he takes another sip from his coffee. “Maybe.”
He watches Katsuki walk past the storefront window and then he’s gone. Behind him Mina giggles and Shouto turns just in time to catch the expression of utter amusement playing on her face, “Good luck, lover boy.”
Shouto spends his entire evening on various message boards trying to find any sort of indication that he is not the only person to experience this kind of unorthodox encounter with his soulmate. He’s made at least a dozen posts over just as many message boards, all with the subject line of: Help, my soulmate doesn’t appear to have gained colored sight upon meeting.
Most responses are just condolences or replies of ‘ I’ve never heard of that happening. Crazy.’ And Shouto already knows it’s crazy! He doesn’t need more people piling on to how bizarre his situation is. He’s looking for an explanation.
Just as he’s on the verge of sleep his phone pings with a notification. He doesn’t even have to open the app to read the response: Maybe he’s not your soulmate.
The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. The pull in the coffee shop had been so strong and visceral that he can’t even remember what any of the other people looked like, let alone had enough presence of mind to consider that his soulmate might have been one of those faceless people.
He replies back: He is.
Shouto sets his phone down with a finality, somehow the very suggestion that he’s wrong about Katsuki being his soulmate has only served to make him more certain of their fated connection.
But when he wakes in the morning there’s another reply: Then maybe you aren’t his.
The thought is so jarring that Shouto can do little more than stare blankly at his phone. That doesn’t happen, he thinks to himself.
Late in the day, he gets a response on one of the forums that’s just a link which takes him to the website of The Jackson Partners Institute for the Study of Soulmate Bonds. Specifically, he’s been linked to a page dedicated to the study of Abnormal Soulmates . But even reading he finds the phrases inconclusive or insufficient data used over and over again. The only real statistic he can find is still vague: Abnormal Soulmate bonds occur in every 1 out of 500,000 to 700,000 thousand fated partnerships and can often be most commonly explained by a genetic predisposition for color blindness. Cases that cannot be explained by this rare, genetic, occurrence often lack a definitive cause.
The statistics are reassuring, if only because they exist. What he’s experiencing is rare but not so rare that he’s the only one to have ever experienced it. Still, what is he to do? He doubts that Katsuki would be thrilled by him coming out and insisting they are soulmates - no. He knows Katsuki would be the extreme opposite of thrilled. Then the image of Katsuki as an enraged persian cat comes to mind and he thinks that the risk might be worth the reward.
He makes another post across the various forums: My soulmate doesn’t know we are fated because he is color blind, what should I do? This time he gets his first reply within minutes: Tell him, duh.
But, again, he doesn’t imagine this going over well: I think that might scare him off.
Seconds later: ...then maybe just court him like colorless people do and then tell him?
When he reads it, the answer seems so obvious. He’s dated a few people over the years only for them to meet their soulmates and break things off, which is the inevitable outcome of colorless relationships, but courting his soulmate under the guise of colorless dating- well, that will be an interesting story to tell later.
It’s easier to return to the coffee shop with the semblance of a plan in mind. Shouto can’t help but to wonder how long he’ll have to wait to see Katsuki again. Days? Weeks? Certainly not months though. Since Katsuki had been so friendly and familiar with the barista, Shouto reasons he has to come relatively often. Even so, he can’t believe his luck when Katsuki walks into the coffee shop not thirty minutes after Shouto has sat down.
“Kats!” He nearly springs from his seat and manages to hit his elbow on the edge of the table in the process. If Shouto calling for Katsuki hadn’t been enough to draw his attention then Shouto hissing as he holds his elbow and rocks back and forth in his seat certainly would have been.
To his credit, Katsuki doesn't laugh at him like Mina does from behind the counter, but his face does morph in a way that clearly communicates: yeah, that was fucking embarrassing for you. At the counter, Mina grins at Katsuki like a Cheshire cat ready to pounce and starts chattering animatedly when he steps up to order.
When they finish with what largely seems like a one-sided conversation, Mina shoos Katsuki away with a flick of her wrist and in turn Katsuki only glares back at her before she dramatically mouths the word GO. At least Shouto thinks that what she mouths, it’s a little hard to tell from behind pain-squinted eyes.
Katsuki comes to stand by Shouto’s table and it takes everything in him not to stumble over himself and declare the existence of their never-ending bond. Instead he says, “I hit my elbow.”
With a roll of his eyes and a near-humorous snort, Sunshine speaks, “Yeah. I saw.”
Shouto interprets this as, tell me more . “It hurt.”
“I can imagine.” Katsuki looks off to a corner of the cafe, the color of which Shouto can now identify. It’s the same color as Katsuki’s mouth: pink. Now that Shouto knows what various colors look like, it’s almost overwhelming to be in the tiny cafe which, thanks to a book entitled So That’s What I Call Color , he now knows is wallpapered in a tie-dye pattern of orange, pink, and light green - because apparently there are nuances to color. Like how Katsuki’s hair is a variation of yellow that they call blond, a word that is much less accurate than sunshine.
He hasn’t memorized all the colors yet. He knows blue because it’s the color of the sky and everyone is told what the color of the sky is. It’s also the color of only one of his eyes, the other is still gray which is strangely disappointing in the same way that half of his hair has remained white. He’s seen those colors his whole life and they’re still a part of him. Though the romantic part of his psyche has managed to find some beauty in it, they are still grayscale and that’s how Katsuki still sees the world. So, at least in those features, Katsuki sees him for what he is.
All that aside, there’s red . His favorite color. He’d spent what felt like hours in his car after having bought his book on colors just flipping through the section of red objects. Cherries, strawberries, chilli peppers, roses, poppys, blood, rubies but, most importantly and not in the book, Katsuki’s eyes.
“Tch.” Katsuki rubs a hand over his face before it comes to rest, covers his mouth and - Shouto’s breath catches - there’s more red, it dusts over the tips of Katsuki’s ears and cheeks.
“Stop staring at me, you look like a fucking creep,” Katsuki grunts.
“Oh,” he responds simply. “Sorry.” But he doesn’t look away. Can’t really. He could probably stare at Katsuki for hours which is a bit concerning when he considers he has other things to do.
Katsuki scowls, “You’re not even going to try and deny it?”
The menace on his pink lips doesn’t quite reach his eyes and Shouto reasons that he must be embarrassed. That’s yet another red thing: embarrassment . “Why would I?”
This time Katsuki snaps his head in Shouto’s direction and actually looks at him, and wow - Shouto’s having a fantastic day. “Because it’s the decent thing to do!” Katsuki’s whole expression falls in a fraction of a second to one of horror-stricken confusion; jaw slack and eyes wide as they flit across Shouto’s face. Katsuki blinks twice with purpose, each one tight and forceful, before his whole body seems to relax. That relaxation lasts only moments before unfiltered rage makes it taught again. “Mina!” Katsuki shouts so loud that it startles Shouto as he stomps over to the counter, “I know my coffee is ready you meddling bitch so hand it over!”
Mina shuffles over sheepishly and slides a coffee across the counter. “You don’t have to be a dick about it.” Then she turns away and walks into the back.
Katsuki’s expression softens marginally, “Mina, wait-” he calls after her but the door to the kitchen is already swinging shut. “Dammit,” he hisses under his breath and then turns bodily on Shouto. His mouth is rolled tight and his eyes don’t look angry as much as they appear distressed. “Tch,” Katsuki clicks and then turns to walk out of the cafe.
Shouto stands quickly, “Bye, Kats!”
The bell over the door rings. Katsuki screeches. “Don’t fucking call me that!”
Shouto notes that Katsuki likes to get in the last word.
Mina comes out of the back and sighs loud enough to draw Shouto’s attention when she leans over the counter. With a cheeky grin, “Such an asshole, huh?”
He tilts his head and one corner of his mouth pulls up in a tentatively fond smile, “Yeah.”
When he arrives the next day, Katsuki is leaning against the counter. He and Mina are having a conversation, his eyebrows are drawn together but his expression is otherwise soft. The bell overhead makes Mina look up with a smile but when she registers Shouto’s presence she looks at Katsuki, drums her hands against the counter with a bitten smile and backs away.
Shouto’s mouth feels dry - he’d spent the rest of yesterday thinking very seriously about what could have caused Katsuki to go from mildly annoyed to outwardly enraged so suddenly but had come up short with an explanation. Katsuki looks at him, gaze not un inviting, and then casts his eyes downward.
He doesn’t walk up to the counter, he walks up to Katsuki. “Good morning, Katsuki.”
“Pft,” he taps his toe against the ground and shoves the hand not holding his coffee into the pouch of his sweater. “What happened to Kats?”
“You told me not to call you that.”
Katsuki sighs and finally looks up to meet Shouto’s eyes. “I didn’t think a dumbass like you would actually listen.”
“So I can call you Kats?”
“No.”
“What about just Kat?”
“I’ll beat you within an inch of your life.”
Shouto tilts his head and feels himself smirk, “Okay.”
Katsuki makes a noise of acknowledgement that amounts to little more than, “Nnn.”
“Just so you know, Katsuki - ” Shouto says his name because he’s basically been given permission to use it at will and it feels good in his mouth, “ - I’m not exceedingly dumb.”
Raising an eyebrow, “Is that so?”
“Yes. In fact, I graduated at the top of my class in both high school and college.”
“Oh, yeah?” A feral grin splits his face and he finally kicks off the counter to stand up straight. “What was your class rank?”
“Fifth in high school.”
“Uh-huh, and in college?”
“Fourth.”
“I win.”
“Win what?”
“Academics, fucker. So I still get to call you a dumbass because, by comparison, you are.”
Shouto blinks and takes a moment to digest what Katsuki has said. “You have a volatile personality.”
Katsuki’s face tints red, just as it had the previous day, at the same time Mina snorts behind the counter while making a coffee. “What!” He demands with indignation.
Outwardly, Shouto continues calmly, “It’s okay. Your volatile personality makes you unique.” Inwardly, he’s begun to wonder if Katsuki is always this easy to rile up.
“Is that how dumbasses talk to people they’re trying to -” Katsuki’s mouth snaps shut.
“Trying to what?” Shouto tries to sound casual, he’d intended for Katsuki to become aware of his intentions but he hadn’t anticipated it would be so soon. After all, he thinks he’s managed to remain relatively subtle. Regardless, there’s not much to be done.
Katsuki snears, “Nothing. Just forget about it.”
With a shrug, Shouto looks off to the side. “Okay.” His eyes fall on a round, mosaic tiled table not too far from the counter. There’s a blue vase on it with a red flower and, he’d thought it before but feels more certain now, decides those two colors look very nice together.
Shouto redirects his attention back to Katsuki when Mina sighs. The sound evidently marks a whole conversation between the two of them because Katsuki rolls his eyes, clears his throat and, “Your booklet.”
“Oh!” Shouto perks up and starts to shuffle through his bag. Until he finds a small bundle of index cards.
“What are those?” Katsuki sips his coffee.
In an attempt to confirm his earlier inquiry, Shouto dawns an impassive expression and says without any intonation, “Index cards.”
In response, Katsuki’s mouth rolls together and he breathes out heavily through his nose in a way that reminds Shouto of an old cartoon character, “Oh-my-fucking-god. I know what index cards are! What’s on the index cards?”
“Parts of the booklet.”
Katsuki looks unimpressed but when Shouto doesn’t make any indication he intends to elaborate Katsuki starts to look like he might actually beat him within an inch of his life. “ And!”
Shouto’s has begun to wonder if he’s some sort of masochist. Katsuki’s always smouldering rage is just too enticing not to stoke into a flame. On second thought, perhaps that makes him a sadist. He makes a mental note to look up the definition of each word later. “I organize my notes into instructions.”
Katsuki bites his lip in a poor attempt at suppressing his rage. Shouto worries that if he bites any harder he might draw blood. Mina chooses that moment to come over and set down a saucer atop which is a large mug containing a latte. “Min a ,” the sound of Katsuki whining is enough to make Shouto’s heart flutter.
“Don’t mind me, just keep talking.”
Katsuki watches as Mina slides the lapis colored saucer close to the edge as though captivated by its movement then quickly, and just as upset as he had been when Mina came over, Katsuki continues as if Shouto can’t hear him, “Talking to him is like pulling teeth!”
Walking away, “I can’t hear you!” She sing-songs in return.
Shouto checks his general area to see if there’s anybody who appears to have been waiting for a coffee but none of the few patrons in the shop move to stand.
“It’s for you, dumbass.”
He turns to regard Katsuki who scratches the back of his neck. “For me?”
With a groan, “Don’t make a thing out of it - I was just -” Katsuki stumbles and starts again, “Yesterday I was -”
“An asshole,” Shouto finishes for him.
Katsuki levels him with a look of displeasure. “Sounds like something Mina - ,” he says her name pointedly, “- would say.”
“You must know her very well,” Shouto surmises.
“Unfortunately,” Katsuki huffs around the lid of his to go cup.
Shouto thinks that, between himself and Mina, maybe Katsuki has been teased enough for one day and doesn’t want to push his luck much further. So, he picks up the ceramic mug offered to him and brings the conversation back around, “I’m a technical writer. I put things together and then write instructions in layman's terms about how I was able to do that so that others can put it together on their own.”
Katsuki straightens up and a flash of surprise crosses his features before his face settles back into a scowl. Albeit, a less intense scowl. “Why couldn’t you have said that five minutes ago when we started this conversation?”
“Well,” Shouto shrugs, takes a sip of his coffee. “Where would the fun have been in that?”
Katsuki’s face goes slack like he’s just been told something completely abhorrent. Slowly, quietly and to himself he repeats what Shouto had said, “Where would the fun have...” He trails off and after a moment his face twists into an expression that actually makes Shouto recoil. “You did that on purpose?”
Truly, he speaks before he thinks, “Not at all.” Perhaps he should be concerned that he’d made the conscious decision not to tease Katsuki just moments ago and twice he’s done it without meaning to within the following thirty seconds.
Slamming his, presummedly, empty to-go cup of coffee on the counter, Katsuki wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist. “Un-fucking-believable,” he growls. “Having a conversation with you is like trying to put a square peg in a round hole: pointless !”
Shouto fights to keep his face neutral. “That’s a relief,” he says and then continues without giving Katsuki a chance to reply, “It could have been boring.”
A few different emotions flicker across Katsuki’s face but none of them linger long enough for Shouto to put a name to them. Ultimately, Katsuki lands on rage which is an expression that’s quickly lost it’s impact over their few encounters. “Mina!” He bellows and he stomps to the door, “I’m fucking leaving. Don’t try to stop me!”
Shouto waves, “Bye, Katsuki. See you next time.”
Katsuki groans and practically rips the door off its hinges as he makes his dramatic exit from the building. There’s a brief stutter to his step as he begins walking down the street and his head tilts up towards the sky and his face takes on a look of utter shock that fades rather quickly. Then he frowns and continues on just as suddenly as he had stopped.
Shouto can’t help but to smirk as he sips his latte. Without checking to see if she’s there Shouto speaks, a definitive pleasure in his tone, “I think that went well.”
Mina practically throws herself onto the counter, “That went great!”
Katsuki doesn’t come Friday and when he looks at Mina, whose presence he has quickly come to appreciate, she shrugs and says, “He’s just being dramatic.” She also tells him that Katsuki doesn’t come on the weekends which is just as well because Shouto generally has family obligations both Saturday and Sunday.
Shouto returns to the cafe on Monday, earlier than usual just to make sure he doesn’t miss Katsuki. Mina waves to him and he steps over to his regular table near the window. He likes this table - square with worn wooden planks and painted with vines and roses of different colors that start in one corner and bloom diagonally across its width.
He traces the lines of neon with his first two fingers, caught up in the strange mix of colors. They’re fascinating in their contrast, neon shadows and lines with matte colors taking up the space inbetween. He can’t remember what this table looked like the first time he’d sat at it, before his world became full of color. Had he even noticed the difference in brightness between the neon and matte?
He pulls his hand away, swivels his head to look around the coffee shop and takes in all its color. The vibrancy of the walls is one thing but every piece of furniture is a new dot of color, pattern and texture. Color makes the world different - or maybe it’s just something to be appreciated differently.
He chooses a table adjacent to a bright red bookcase today. This table is round, the top made of iron that’s twisted into branches and spray painted a bright bluish green. There’s a name for this color he thinks to himself as he sets up his laptop.
The cafe starts to get busy and after looking up from his work for the fifth time at the sound of the bell he becomes immune to it’s call, which makes it all the better when he hears the unmistakable grumble of Sunshine behind him. “You look like a fucking stalker, you know that?”
Shouto turns to regard him over his shoulder and he wonders if this fluttering feeling in his chest will ever stop occurring when he sees Katsuki. Maybe it’s a soulmate thing, maybe it’s a him thing - either way, if it never stops he would be okay with that. “Awfully bold of you to assume I’m here to see you. The coffee is quite good.”
“Oh, yeah? Then where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
“Your coffee.”
Shouto looks at his table and realizes that despite having arrived forty-five minutes ago he’s failed to order himself something to drink. He blinks, then looks up to Katsuki, “I finished it.”
With a roll of his eyes, “Fucking stalker.”
“I can’t help myself.” It’s true. Shouto can recognize how, not only, out of character his behavior is but how it toes the line of being inappropriate. They lapse into a silence that Shouto breaks with a quiet but serious question, “Do you want me to stop coming?”
Katsuki glances away, something Shouto has identified as an action he does when uncomfortable. After a moment of consideration he sighs then mumbles, “Do what you want. It’s a free fucking world.”
There’s an immediate sense of relief. He can’t help the broad smile that graces his face before he quickly reigns it in. Perhaps he’s making more progress than he’d considered. “Do you want to sit?”
“No. I’m just waiting for my coffee. Don’t get any big ideas about us being friends or something.”
“If not friends, then what?”
Katsuki rolls his head back in Shouto’s direction and looks at him, “You’re just the guy that’s here when I wait for my coffee.” His face blanks as if suddenly perplexed and there’s a quality to his ruby-colored eyes that feels familiar.
“Something wrong?” Shouto asks, curious as to what that look may be.
He watches the way Katsuki’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows. “ ‘s a different table than you usually sit at,” he says as his fingers trace the iron of the table.
“Oh,” Shouto lifts his laptop and peers down at the table top. Teal, he finally recalls the color. “Yes, I decided I liked the -” color , his mind supplies.
It’s useless to hope that Katsuki doesn’t pick up on how he’d awkwardly cut himself off, “You liked the what?”
This is a hell of a time for his mind to get caught up in the expression on Katsuki’s face, mouth pulled down in a scowl but eyebrows high and eyes open with suspicion. Shouto licks his upper lip, “The - the -”
“Blasty!” Mina calls from the counter.
Oh, good , a distraction. “Blasty?” Shouto questions.
“Goddammit,” he mutters under his breath and then locks eyes with Shouto. “Don’t even fucking try it.” He stomps away and Shouto hums humorously to himself when he decides that Katsuki seems to always be stomping. At the counter, Mina leans in conspiratorially and Katsuki ignores whatever question she’s asked in favor of pulling her hand out from under her elbow and inspecting her nails. She pulls her hand from his grasp easily and he says something to her that makes Mina’s expression go slack. Then Katsuki picks up his coffee and hurries out the door.
Strange , Shouto thinks to himself.
When the crowd has thinned, he goes to the counter to order his own coffee. Mina looks at him shiftily which he also finds strange. There seems to be a few strange things today. Ultimately her face dissolves into a soft smile. “You know,” she begins with a playful tone as she makes change, “I didn’t even bully him into talking to you today.”
Shouto’s mouth rolls into a thin smile. “He’s not the easiest person to talk to.”
“That’s one way of putting it, lover boy.” She finishes making change and he notices the color of her nails as she drops it in his hand.
Chipped, cotton candy blue.
On Wednesday Katsuki arrives late but with flowers. Explosions of red and yellow and orange tulips. Shouto wonders if when he picked them out he’d read the color tag on them and wondered what those colors looked like when paired together. Vibrant is what he would tell him if Katsuki were to ask.
When Katsuki nods at him it makes Shouto sigh a bit dreamily, shocking to even himself but, still, he twiddles his fingers in a soft hello. Across the restaurant Katsuki ducks his head but Shouto spots the flush on the tips on his ears. Whether he’s embarrassed for Shouto or just in general is difficult to be sure of.
He stops at the counter to place his order and Mina greets him with a bright smile. They chat briefly and Shouto marvels at how easily she’s able to draw a smirk on those lips. Katsuki offers her the bouquet and Mina’s mouth pulls up in delighted consideration before she takes a yellow flower and tucks it behind her ear. The flowers hang at Katsuki’s side as he turns and approaches Shouto’s table. “You have flowers today,” he states simply.
“How fucking observant of you.”
Unphased, “Who are they for?”
Katsuki sighs, long and tired and for the first time Shouto sees sadness amongst the fire. “Mostly for myself at this point.” His response feels honest, tone open and bare. It’s in the way that Katsuki blinks himself back into awareness that Shouto gets the impression that Katsuki hadn’t meant to be any of those things. Quickly, as if righting a ship, “It doesn’t matter, stop being so goddamn nosey.”
He lets his eyes drift down to the flower buds, some at full bloom, others at half or even fully closed to preserve the longevity of the bouquet. “Are they for your mom?”
“I just told you not to be nosey. But no.” Katsuki raises the bouquet and looks down at the center of it. Thoughtfully, “My mom doesn’t like tulips. Old hag would bitch thinking I forgot she likes lilies.”
Shouto hums, “Hyacinths.”
“Hyacinths?” Katsuki lowers the bouquet and casts Shouto a questioning gaze.
“Hyacinths are my mom’s favorite. The blue ones. I always get them for her when I go visit on Sunday.”
“Huh,” Katsuki emotes. Mumbling, “Cold color.”
Shouto’s eyes widen and his heart beats powerfully in his chest. “What?” He struggles to get the word out past the barely restrained hope in his throat that Katsuki can see color.
“That’s what I always imagined it would be.”
He thinks of his eye, a brilliant blue like that of the ocean, and wonders if it’s for the best that Katsuki can’t see it’s color. Would he look at Shouto and think cold? Aloof? Uncaring? “You’re wrong,” the words push past his lips without warning and makes him choke.
“Oh yeah?” Katsuki tilts his chin up and a cheeky grin pulls over his mouth as though he’s entertained by the disagreement. “Then what do you think it is, dumbass?”
For a moment, Shouto can only hold Katsuki’s gaze. Before color he’d imagined blue as sadness, tears and fears, but he knows what it really is now. “It’s calm. It’s stability.” His tongue feels thick around his words, “It’s comfort.”
Katsuki’s smile slides off his face and his mouth settles into a thoughtful line. His eyes stare into Shouto’s own as if appraising the value of his words. Then, steadily, “Maybe it is.”
“Yoohoo!” Mina calls from the counter, her head is propped up on her knuckles and she wears a smile that threatens to crack her face in half. “Blasty, I’ve called you like a billion times.”
“Tch,” Katsuki snarls and walks over to her. “You did not, you fucking slimy troublemaker.” He growls at her like an actual animal and Shouto feels strangely charmed.
Shouto watches Katsuki go to the exit but this time he pauses in the doorway and glances over his shoulder. Red eyes are sharp, contemplative and then in a brief and decidedly irritable sendoff, “Later, shithead.”
His eyes go wide as Katsuki leaves the cafe and then his mouth stretches into an astonished grin. Katsuki said a real goodbye to him . Behind the counter, Mina grins back just as shocked and ecstatic then squeals with delight. “Holy shit! That was amazing!”
Shouto pushes the hair off his forehead, he feels suddenly hot. “That was...” he trails off.
It felt red.