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Katsuki cursed whatever good mood he’d been in when Eijiro convinced him to cook for this stupid party. His former self had no regard for the disaster of a day he’d had or the fact that this meant wrangling a small crew of idiots in the kitchen. Much as he might have preferred to kick them all out and bang around in there by himself, New Year’s Eve snacks for twenty teenagers was more than he could do on his own.
So it wasn’t until the surrounding woods grew silent and dark and the first hint of stars came to light that Katsuki found a second alone to himself. Usually this far up the hill and away from the rest of the city they could almost make out the lines between constellations, tonight though, heavy clouds spoiled the view. A sharp wind churned them overhead, and it looked like the sky stood torn between moving along its way or dropping a downpour. Katsuki drew up the hood of his sweatshirt, and all but collapsed onto the front steps.
Flour, and oil, and some mystery sauce covered the front of his clothes. His cheeks burned and a painfully restless feeling in his chest wouldn’t leave him alone. Inside, someone had set up the stereo to full volume, blasting the shared class playlist, the sound thudding against the backside of the window.
Katsuki closed his eyes and willed it all into the background. A part of him considered setting out on a run just to see how far he could make it before Aizawa inevitably tracked him down.
“Hey, Kats? You out here?”
Katsuki stiffened at the sound of Eijiro’s voice– he hadn’t even heard the door opening. He sighed, then leaned back from his hiding spot behind the column.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
From the open doorway, Eijiro flashed him a brilliant toothy grin, and against Katsuki’s will it quieted a discordant monologue in the back of his head he hadn’t noticed yet.
“Come on in, man. Brooding time’s over. We’re getting started!”
Katsuki glared at him, then sat forward again out of sight.
Eijiro let out a low whistle through his teeth. “Alright, or maybe it’s not.” A moment later, he plopped down right next to Katsuki, leaning back against the railing to look at him. He nudged Katsuki’s knee with his own and left it there. “What’s up?”
Katsuki’s leg began to shake. His lungs pushed up on his chest like they wanted to burst out of him. He tried to swallow it back, to rehash and rethink how whole mess into something easier to digest. He looked back at Eijiro, and fuck him for being so earnest all the time.
“This whole soulmate thing is such bullshit.”
“Ah,” Eijiro murmured. “So that’s what this is about.”
Katsuki cut him a sneer, a half thing, but he found no disappointment on Eijiro’s face. Just a soft encouraging look. He was ready to listen. Katuski launched into a tirade.
“It doesn’t even make sense,” he began, hands already flying as the words came faster. “No one knows where this shit came from, or what controls it, your whole perception of it can still be altered anyway so what’s the point? Why am I supposed to just blindly follow this crap? Who the fuck even decided this has anything to do with having a partner?”
Eijiro’s face twisted in contemplation. “I mean you do have a point.”
“See? Exactly. You get it.” Katsuki huffed and folded his arms tight over his chest. He didn’t feel any better at the agreement. A part of him, a part larger than he would ever dare to admit, wanted an answer. A real answer. An explanation.
“But I think you’re oversimplifying it a bit,” Eijiro continued.
“Oversimplifying? I have been wracking my brain for years trying to understand this, and I’ve got nothing. You tell me how that’s simple.”
Eijiro shook his head. “No, man. I mean… do you know how many people actually get married to their soulmates?”
“What?” Katsuki gaped, eyebrow raised. “No.”
“It’s like sixty percent or something depending on what country you’re in.” He laughed a little at the twisted expression of shock Katsuki must have given him. “Yeah. Don’t you think if it were as simple as blind faith that number would be a lot higher?”
“That just proves my point,” Katsuki countered.
“Hey, now I just said that’s how many get married not how many stick together. Like…” Eijiro averted his eyes– looked down at his hands in his lap. The corner of his mouth tugged to the side and heat crested over his cheeks. “Awh, man. You know, Mina and I would still be dating then if it were really that simple.”
“You what?” It felt like he’d been struck by a cinder block. He curled his fingers in Eijiro’s hair, shaking his head around. “The fuck, how come you never told me about this?”
Eijiro groaned and swiftly broke Katuski’s hold. All the product in his hair made it stick out at wild angles where Katsuki had grabbed it. He wrinkled his nose at the residual feeling of gel on his palm and wiped it down Eijiro’s sleeve.
“I mean, it’s not an easy thing to explain to people, ya know?” Eijiro quirked an eyebrow at him and Katsuki turned from the incriminating stare.
“Yeah, I guess.” He slipped his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. “You don’t have to say, but… what happened?”
Eijiro sighed and leaned back against the railing. “We figured it out in middle school, pretty early in our last year. And I mean… we were fourteen so we just figured, ‘Oh hey, this is it. Let’s go out.’” Eijiro snorted to himself. “I think I was kind of a lousy boyfriend.”
“You’re kidding,” Katsuki deadpanned. Eijiro shook his head.
“No seriously. I was a stuttering mess most of the time, and I forgot her birthday – man I forgot her birthday.”
“Yeah, never mind I take it back. You’re a shit boyfriend.”
“See?” Eijiro exclaimed. “The whole thing felt weird for both of us so after a while we broke up, tried to give each other space, but it just – she was still one of my best friends, and I didn’t wanna lose her.”
Eijiro shifted himself so he could face Katuski directly. He pulled himself a little higher the way he did when he got ready to run headlong into a fight, the way he did when he was trying to be brave.
“I do love her. It’s just different. She makes me want to be better and makes me see it through. So… I don’t know, I just want her to stick around.” He swallowed hard, his grin turning a little lopsided as he poked at Katsuki’s arm. “Kind of like us. You ain’t getting rid of me too easily.”
Katsuki’s chest ached– somewhere deep but not unfamiliar. A sudden wave of want clawed up inside of him. It came to him in the same all-consuming hunger that had carried him this far, to this school and this moment already. He put his trust in very few things, but that drive counted as one.
Katsuki clenched his hands and looked away.
“You ever feel like you had to feel that way? Like you just have to deal with it because something else told you to?”
Eijiro went quiet for a long moment, and Katsuki’s stomach cinched. He opened his mouth to take it back but –
“Kats. Look at me.”
Katsuki hesitated. Eijiro rarely ever sounded so serious. Katsuki looked up at him, found his eyes, and let Eijiro smile at him like it was all so simple.
“Not once. I promise you.” His mouth trembled a moment over what he wanted to say next. “And I know you. There’s not a thing in this world that could make you be something that you’re not, or feel something you don’t. You’re a tougher motherfucker than that.”
Make that two things. In that moment Katsuki found that there were exactly two things he’d put his trust into entirely: himself, and the boy with the worn red hoodie now clenched in his fists.
It’d be a lie to say Katsuki acted without thinking. No. The problem was that he had been thinking about this for weeks now; couldn’t get it out of his head. So when he reached out, when he yanked at Eijiro’s shoulders and came crashing down hard against his mouth, it happened with the conscious and intentional thought – I want to kiss him.
The snow began to fall then. Compact little flakes of it, slow and sparse. Katsuki felt the first one hit his cheek, then another and another. They pricked at exposed skin, but it felt so far away when Eijiro pressed his hands hard to Katsuki’s shoulder blades.
The tip of his nose scrunched uncomfortably against Eijiro’s cheek, their teeth clicked somewhere in the middle, and he stopped breathing for as long as they stayed pressed together like that. Katsuki didn’t move, didn’t try anything else just stayed put for as long as his friend would let him.
Eventually, he went to pull away. Eijiro continued to hold him by the backs of his shoulders and Katsuki kept his fists balled in his jacket as he sucked in a breath that hitched as his eyes found Eijiro’s again.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered.
“I just don’t think this is really what you want,” Eijiro murmured, his fingers tensed against Katuski’s back. Heat flared through his chest as Katsuki shoved him away.
“Fuck off,” he growled. “Don’t tell me what I want.” The snow came down harder around them and Katsuki shivered. “It could be,” he said under his breath. Eijiro leaned in, trying to catch Katsuki’s eye again. He lifted a hand like he wanted to draw him back in.
“Yeah. It could be, and that’d be great, but…” Eijiro trailed off. His hand still hovered near Katsuki’s arm, unsure.
“Don’t say it.”
“Kats,” Eijiro whispered, his voice so low and disappointed that it set Katsuki’s teeth on edge. His hand finally fell to his arm, and Katsuki shoved himself to his feet away from the touch.
“Forget it. Tell anyone about this and I’ll kill you.”
Eijiro clambered to his feet and wedged himself in Katsuki’s path, sturdy and immovable. His hands caught Katsuki’s shoulders and the way his thumbs pressed into the grooves of his collarbone just made him burn.
“I’m not telling you ‘no.’” Eijrio said, the words rushed out of him. “Don’t think that. I’m saying… you have to figure out whatever this thing is with Midoriya and Todoroki first. They’re my friends too and… I’m not gonna be your revenge because you’re mad at the world.”
Katsuki’s breath stuck to his throat. It was too cold out here, his shivering was getting worse and he needed to get inside. He stepped back.
“That’s not what – Fuck.” His voice came out hoarse and shaken. He swiped at the snow on his brow so he didn’t have to look at Eijiro anymore. “Look, I’m sorry. Seriously. Don’t tell anyone about this.”
He tried to push past him, but Eijiro was just as stubborn and caught him mid-stride. One arm wrapped around Katsuki’s chest, the other around his upper back.
“Don’t do that. Please.” His voice wavered at the end. Katsuki’s body tightened, ready to run, to tear out of his own skin. Eijiro just held on tighter. “You didn’t break anything here, Katsuki,” he said after a moment. “I promise you. It’s okay.”
It was too much then.
“Fuck this,” Katsuki choked. “Fuck this whole thing.”
Eijiro pulled him in close at the first embarrassing hiccup, pressed Katsuki’s head down into his shirt, and pulled his hood up a little higher like it could keep him safe. He didn’t say a word as Katsuki cried. He kept a hand on the back of his head, an arm around his waist, and he stayed. He stayed while Katsuki’s throat burned and his breathing shuttered as he tried to get himself under control. It felt a little less humiliating to fall apart when Eiijiro did what he did best and refused to be moved.
“It’s fucking stupid,” Katsuki muttered between gasps. “It’s not – you’re not– it’s not the same.”
Eijiro huffed, almost like his laughter. “I know.”
In increments, his breathing slowed and the tears dripped more slowly, and then they stopped altogether. Even then, Eijiro didn’t move, didn’t let go.
“I’m sorry,” Katsuki whispered again. Eijiro’s arms tightened around him.
“Hey. I told you. We’re okay. What did I say? It’ll take more than you being a terrible kisser to get rid of me.”
Katsuki shoved out of his arms and hit his shoulder. “Fucker.”
Eijiro snickered, dodging a second hit, but it came out weak and wobbly. When he glanced back up, Katsuki could see the lingering glimmer of tears in his own eyes. He had half a mind to call him out for the goddamn sympathy tears, but he pushed the air out of his lungs and he just felt drained.
“You look like shit,” he grumbled instead, because it was true. Eijiro’s hair still stood up everywhere, and his shirt was wrinkled and wet with Katsuki’s snot.
“Uh, yeah, so do you,” Eijiro mocked. “Come on. We have to go make up some excuse for being gone so long.”
Katsuki crossed his arms again and swayed back. “I’m not playing pretend New Year’s with these losers right now. I’m good.”
In direct protest, Katsuki’s stomach churned and growled loud enough for Eijiro to hear it. He raised an eyebrow without another word. Katsuki sagged and groaned.
“Fine, okay, whatever.” Eijiro grinned and snagged Katsuki’s elbow to drag him around the side of the dorms.
When he wasn’t looking, Katsuki wiped the remaining snot with his sleeve. His head hurt, and even though he couldn’t ignore a lingering curl of guilt in his stomach something else solidified just behind it. Some decision right on the cusp of being recognized.
As he always did, Eijiro held firm. He kept a hand on Katuski’s arm and made sure that no one saw them sneak back inside. He made their excuses and took on the brunt of social interaction for the night. And Katsuki wouldn’t deny; it was nice having him around.