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➴♡⟡.·
It’s on a normal Wednesday afternoon when Katsuki stumbles upon the phrase that exactly fits the good way his heart seizes in his chest everytime Eijirou comes to exist in his bubble, the words forming slowly, letter by goddamn letter as he and Eijirou continue to trade blows, every stroke highlighted by the loud firecracker echo of his explosions as it goes up against the sharp, jagged armor of his best friend.
It’s pretty on theme, Katsuki thinks briefly, how it happened in the middle of a goddamn exhibition match because of course it will. After all, most of Katsuki’s greatest realizations come in the form of a fight, and because Katsuki’s familiar with the way the universe likes to fuck with him, he just lets out a maniacal laugh, blasting himself forward to deliver a high kick aimed at Eijirou’s head. Exhilaration and fondness burn bright inside him as his attack is met by a confident, hardened punch, one that would have knocked him unconscious if he didn’t have the mind to leap backwards and avoid it.
Eijirou is a fucking beast, heavy like a boulder and sturdy as a mountain. He’s dangerous in all the ways that are awe-inspiring, and Katsuki is set ablaze by the knowledge that Eijirou is giving this fight his all, baring himself for Katsuki to see him in his rawest, most vicious state. Katsuki meets him in the middle, his movements outlined with the same kind of ferocity as he delivers blast after blast, bathing the arena with a harsh golden glow that makes the red of Eijirou’s hair look like fire. His veins are fucking singing in elation, warmth pooling from the pits of his stomach, so much so that it spills and spreads down to his fingertips and consumes him whole.
It’s fucking amazing, fighting against Eijirou like this, like there’s no one else in the world but the two of them. The feeling only grows tenfold when Eijirou lets out a deafening roar, the thunderous cheering of the crowd almost like an afterthought as he tries to swipe at his feet. Katsuki evades it by doing an acrobatic flip in the air, beads of nitroglycerin-like sweat raining down on Eijirou and igniting like pinprick imitations of supernovae as they touch his rock-like skin.
Here, surrounded by smoke and dust and rubble, the words he’s attached to Eijirou’s name cement themselves further into the center of his ribcage and deep into the cavity of his chest. He never wants their battle to end. He doesn’t want to leave the arena, not even if the marrow of his bones turn into jelly from his exhaustion. He wants to keep fighting Eijirou. With. Against. Together. Katsuki doesn’t care.
He simply wants.
And the desire doesn’t go away even as he delivers the winning blow, his strongest explosion pushing Eijirou out of bounds, still standing, still fucking unbreakable.
It’s in that moment — when he’s staring at the still grinning Eijirou, his best friend beaming at him like the birth of a new star — that Katsuki realizes he will never love someone else as much as he loves Kirishima Eijirou.
➴♡⟡.·
Strangely enough, the realization feels less like an earth-shattering revelation and more like a wayward puzzle piece finally slotting itself into its rightful place. In fact, it’s almost embarrassing how it’s taken him this long to understand. Funnier still when he thinks about how falling for his best friend is one of those things that are inevitable.
After all, it’s always been Eijirou, hasn’t it? He’s always been the first. The first to be considered his equal, the first person Katsuki wants to get to know with no other reason aside from simply knowing. He’s the first to have the title of Katsuki’s friend, perhaps not the first to reach out, but the first hand Katsuki didn’t hesitate to take. Katsuki’s number one in so many things.
So yes, Katsuki is hopelessly gone for his best friend.
He’s no longer afraid of admitting such soft, vulnerable thoughts. He’s eighteen, and he’s gone to fucking therapy, so he knows now that although love can be a weakness, frangible and flimsy, it can also be strength. There’s even a bunch of morons surrounding him with hearts too big for their own good to teach him that.
And well, being in love feels pretty fucking great actually.
So instead of running away from his feelings like a fucking coward, something he might have done if things have been different, Katsuki firmly decides that he will just love and care for Eijirou with the intensity of the fucking sun that his best friend won’t know what hit him. Eijirou only deserves the best, and that’s even before Katsuki’s feelings made themselves known, so that’s what Katsuki will give him and then some.
After all, if Katsuki’s going to be in love with his best friend, he’s going all out.
Plus fucking Ultra or whatever.
➴♡⟡.·
Some people might find his approach a little too aggressive, but Katsuki is his mother’s son, and their similarities don’t end with just their looks. She taught him to always go for the jugular in everything he does, most especially if there’s something he wants. Katsuki has taken those words, carved it in the creases of his mind and has never looked back since.
Eijirou is going to lose his mind, Katsuki thinks with glee as he kicks the door to Eijirou’s room open with a manic grin on his lips and a litany of compliments and praises spilling out of his mouth.
“You fought so fucking well back there,” he says in lieu of a greeting, situating himself on Eijirou’s bed before his best friend can even regsiter his presence. “Almost gave me a run for my money.”
Eijirou gasps, eyes like saucers, “Katsuki, did you just,” he trails off. Dramatic bastard. Katsuki wants to kiss him. “Compliment me?”
“What do you think, dipshit?”
Somehow, that makes Eijirou beam, his shark teeth on display as his lips stretch as wide as the Pacific Ocean. Katsuki swears the sun looks like a dying candle next to him
“Katsuki complimented me!” There’s firelight in his eyes as he goes for a tackle hug that Katsuki doesn’t even try to avoid. “I’m so happy!”
“Shut the fuck up, Red, and get the fuck off me.” Katsuki rolls his eyes, strangely feeling comfortable from where he’s being squished between Eijirou’s bed and his mountain of a best friend after they fell over from Eijirou tackling him.
“You complimented me,” Eijirou sniffles, nuzzling — Katsuki is not religious but thank god, he fell in love with someone so touchy — against him before staring at him with wide eyes. “Wait! You aren’t some shape shifter in my best bro’s form, are you?”
“What the fuck, shitty hair?” Katsuki exclaims, kicking his best friend off the bed. He may be in love with Eijirou, but he can only take so much stupidity in one day.
“Oomf.” Eijirou exclaims as he fails to activate his quirk on time and lands on the wooden floor with a thud, rubbing his head as his lips curl into a grin, sharp teeth and all. “Yeah, you’re my Katsuki, alright. Ow, my back hurts.”
“Fucking serves you right, moron.” Katsuki rolls his eyes with a kind of fondness he usually has reserved for puppies and kittens, sure that the warmth on his cheeks are visible in varying shades of pink. Eijirou has just called him his! It's great.
“Rude.” Eijirou complains, the still present grin on his face telling Katsuki that he doesn’t really mean what he said.
“Whatever. I’m going to bed.”
“Me too.” Eijirou seconds, getting off the floor and nudging him to the side. “Scoot over.”
“No.” Katsuki tells him, spreading his arms and legs wide, reminiscent of a starfish, and taking up as much space as he can on Eijirou’s bed. “You’re sleeping on the floor because you piss me off.”
“Wha— You’re in my bed you know!” Eijirou reasons while trying to push Katsuki closer to the wall.
Katsuki refuses to budge. “So?”
Eijirou puffs his cheeks, eyes acquiring a mischievous glint. The alarm bells in Katsuki’s head start ringing. He knows that look, and oh no. Red alert. But before Katsuki can move, Eijirou has already pounced, landing on top of him with a thump.
Katsuki groans. “Fucking hell, Red. Get the fuck off me. You’re heavy.”
“Nope.” Eijirou shakes his head, “You’re taking up all the space on my bed, so I’m using you as my bed.”
“Like hell!”
The two of them wrestle for a while — Katsuki thinks he’s heard Denki’s sleepy voice from the floor below telling them to keep it down — neither wanting to give in until both of them get tired.
Hours later, as the two of them lay side by side, Katsuki finds himself watching Eijirou sleep. He looks peaceful in his slumber, his breath coming in soft puffs, and Katsuki swears, ‘I’m going to love you so hard. Get ready, fucker.’
➴♡⟡.·
Part of being in love with Eijirou is wanting to spend every fleeting moment with him.
So when a chance to be next to Eijirou presents itself in the form of his shitty, but not really, hair, Katsuki latches his teeth on it with no intention of letting go.
“Your roots are showing,” he says when he passes by Eijirou and the rest of his morons huddled up in the common room, the four of them trying to fit themselves on the couch as they watch an old horror movie, making commentaries on how unrealistic most of the scenes are.
Eijirou’s hands fly above his head, “Really? Does it look bad?”
Katsuki has to bite his tongue to prevent himself from answering because there are really no downsides to loving Eijirou except for the fact that he can’t stop waxing stupid fucking poetry in his head about Eijirou’s shitty hair. Apparently, love isn’t fucking blind, it just refuses to see because now he’s thinking about how Eijirou’s hair reminds him of autumn leaves, vibrant and loud.
His parents are going to fucking cry if they find out that’s what he thinks of Eijirou’s broomhead. So instead, he shrugs and asks, “Want me to help you dye it or whatever?”
“Please,” Eijirou all but begs, his hands clasped together in prayer.
“Wanna ditch these morons,” Katsuki points a thumb at the remaining members of his squad — yes, he’s claiming them now after two years of denial — and ignoring their muffled “Rude!” as he continues. “And fix your hair now?”
“Sure! I have the stuff in my room. Meet me there?”
I’ll follow you anywhere, Katsuki wants to say, but he doesn’t want to give Eijirou a heart attack, so he simply grunts in response, fully trusting Eijirou to get what he means.
Not to disappoint, Eijirou stands up from where he’s seated, practically skipping towards the elevator.
“And there he goes,” Hanta sing-songs, his annoying piano grin directed at him.
Mina whines from where she’s sitting between the other two, “Can’t believe you stole him from us again.”
“You tell him!” Denki seconds, his chin resting comfortably against Mina’s shoulder.
In a show of amazing restraint, Katsuki only flips them the bird instead of blowing up their faces, turning to follow Eijirou to his room, grinning smugly when he leaves his friends spluttering and nearly falling off the couch.
The grin never leaves his face even as he enters Eijirou’s room, announcing his arrival with a loud, “I’m here, fucker,” pausing briefly to pick the manga and textbooks scattered on Eijirou’s floor, taking time to stack them properly on his desk before heading to the bathroom where he knows Eijirou’s waiting for him.
“What got you in a good mood?” His best friend asks while handing him the gloves.
“You,” Katsuki says nonchalantly, like he’s telling him that the sky is blue. Eijirou lets out a sound akin to a whistling kettle, and Katsuki decides to save him from having an aneurysm by adding, “Denki fell off the couch.”
“Don’t be mean,” Eijirou playfully swats at his arm. Katsuki lets it land, knowing that he’ll one-hundred percent go on a killing spree if anyone else attempts to do the same. Seriously. The things he lets Eijirou get away with.
“Fuck you. I do what I want,” Katsuki reminds him, snatching the bottle of hair dye from the sink and carefully reading through the instructions written at the back. “Why the fuck are these letters so small!?”
Eijirou snorts, “You’re so meticulous, it’s kinda hilarious.”
“Well, sorry for not wanting you to go bald.”
“Wait,” Eijirou exclaims, his face a picture of pure disbelief “That stuff can actually happen?”
God. He’s an idiot. Katsuki wants to marry him as soon as possible.
“Yes, moron. Now, shut up, and let me read the instructions.”
Eijirou huffs in amusement. “Okay.”
Twenty minutes later, Katsuki is now in the process of finishing up when Eijirou suddenly pipes up.
“I’m thinking of growing my hair a bit,” he tells him like he’s revealing a secret. Katsuki listens. “What do you think?”
“I think it’ll be fucking cool,” Katsuki responds honestly, always ready to compliment Eijirou when there’s a chance to do so. “It’ll look a lot like a lion’s mane.”
Silence.
Katsuki raises an eyebrow, looking at the mirror where Eijirou’s face is reflected.
“What?” Katsuki asks, searching Eijirou’s face.
“You think my hair is cool!?” Eijirou says slowly, his voice getting louder, one word at a time. “You like my hair!?”
“It’s an acquired taste,” Katsuki grumbles and pretends it pains him to say it out loud when what he really means is I love everything about you.
Eijirou must have picked up the lack of truth behind his words because he’s suddenly springing up to his feet, eyes shining.
“I knew you like my hair!”
“Shut up,” Katsuki grumbles.
“I’m going to tell everyone,” Eijirou says as he, with his hair bleeding a firetruck red, makes a mad dash towards the common room where the rest of their class is already gathered for movie night before making true of his promise and announcing, “I finally got Katsuki to admit he likes my hair!”
And because Katsuki’s classmates are a bunch of assholes, they all cheer in congratulations.
But well, Eijirou looks so happy. Katsuki supposes it’s all worth it in the end.
➴♡⟡.·
Eijirou makes him breakfast the next day as thanks.
The bacon is slightly charred, the edges of the eggs are burnt, and the orange juice is just a tad bit too sweet.
It’s the best breakfast Katsuki has ever had.
➴♡⟡.·
Katsuki knows he’s being obvious about his feelings for Eijirou. At least, he hopes he is because he wants everyone to know that he’s been claimed and that he’s claimed Eijirou.
He’s aware that some of them knows — his squad of idiots probably knew before him even — but he can’t be too certain when it comes to the rest of his classmates because they can be oblivious as fuck sometimes, so of course Katsuki makes sure to be extra when around them just in case.
Like right now.
“That’s Eijirou’s,” Hanta points out the moment Katsuki struts in the common room, donned in a crimson hoodie two sizes too large.
“I know. I made it,” Katsuki tells him, amused and all kinds of smug as he remembers how Eijirou cried after he gave him the hoodie he sewed himself. Like he’s going to give Eijirou those ugly branded shit his old hag loves so much. No way.
“Why are you wearing it then?” Denki, who’s trying to wrestle the television’s remote control from Hanta asks.
“Why do you think, Denki?” Katsuki shoots back. “Use your fucking brain.”
Both of his morons freeze, Hanta wide eyed while Denki is left opening and closing his mouth, realization quickly dawning on their faces.
“Wait! Hold on!” Denki stutters, brain clearly working a mile a minute, but before he can actually say what he wants, Mina has walked in and let out an unholy screech.
“Holy shit!” She exclaims, barreling towards him like a bullet train Katsui swears she just broke Iida’s short sprint record. “Did you finally figure it out?”
“Yeah,” Katsuki hums, letting her shake him by the shoulders.
“You took so long! I thought it’ll take you until you’re like eighty! Did you already tell him? When? How did it go? What did he say?” She rapid fires, yellow irises glowing gold as each question is asked.
“Not yet. I’m still working on it,” he admits.
“Oh! That’s fine, too! Do you want me to help you? I can set the two of you up! I’ve been waiting for this day!”
“Mina,” he interrupts, looking at her intently while speaking in a tone that clearly indicates he’s talking to all three of them.
They all snap into attention at that, and it's almost funny how they don’t even blink as they try and succeed in deciphering what he means without him having to say the actual words. They’re not on Eijirou’s level yet, but they’ve gotten so much better at reading between the lines, or maybe, Katsuki just stopped hiding around them and didn’t notice. Either way, he knows that he’s made his point clear.
“Okay,” she concedes with a fond smile, Hanta and Denki nodding along. “But if you need us…”
“I know,” Katsuki says and because he loves them, too, he tacks on, “Thanks or whatever.”
The group hug they gave him afterwards is suffocating and way too fucking warm.
Katsuki thinks there’s nowhere else he’ll rather be.
➴♡⟡.·
Katsuki likes training with Eijirou.
He can go all out and never worry about accidentally hurting him. Eijirou can tank multiple of Katsuki’s strongest attacks and not falter because he’s just strong like that. Now that Katsuki’s feelings have made themselves known, sparring with him has gotten even better.
Plus, Katsuki can use it as his chance to flirt with Eijirou and none will be wiser. Well, maybe except some people who’re in the know, like the people who are currently winking at them and giving them kissy faces.
Not that Katsuki gives a shit at the moment.
After all, he’s got Eijirou pinned under his weight as he sat directly on top of his abdomen, his legs on both sides of him while his best friend has his hands on both sides of his waist to brace himself.
Holy shit, his hands are big.
Katsuki does not want him to let go, so before a blushing Eijirou — red really does suit him — can retract his hands, Katsuki holds on by placing his own hands on top of Eijirou's own hands to keep them where they are.
“Good fight, Red,” he praises with lips stretched into something pleased and feral as he leans forward confidently, delighting in the way Eijirou’s eyes seem to linger on the way his lips move as he speaks. “Keep it up, and you’ll be able to pin me down just like this.”
“Ah, uhm,” Eijirou flounders, his nerves showing in how the flush across his cheeks has spread down to his neck and chest. Katsuki wonders how he’ll react if he ever decides to tell him that he’s been unconsciously squeezing Katsuki’s waist.
“Probably burst into flames,” Katsuki mutters under his breath, his wild grin smoothing down into something softer and gentler at the endearing thought.
“Huh?”
“Nothing,” Katsuki begins, but before he can continue, a cough cuts him off, and he whips his head to glare at Aizawa who just told them to get off the ring and go back so the others can spar.
Really. He respects the man as much as he does All Might, but boy, he has the worst timing ever. Worse is that Katsuki knows he’s doing it on purpose. He’s proven right when his teacher tells him to stay after class just to reprimand him.
“Do not flirt in my class,” his teacher deadpans the moment they’re alone.
And well, Katsuki gets it. He knows it’s important to focus even if it’s in a controlled environment. He understands, but Katsuki has a master’s degree in being a little shit, so he doesn’t even pause when he responds, “Can I flirt with Eijirou in your husband’s class then?”
The detention he got after is a small price to pay for seeing the great Eraserhead lose his composure and choke on nothing.
➴♡⟡.·
Katsuki goes home during the weekend — sometimes, it still feels surreal that they can do that now, go home without needing to get a signed slip from their teacher — to visit his parents.
He walks with Eijirou to the station, the two of them talking about anything and everything under the sun. Well, Katsuki is mostly listening as Eijirou talks, the soft baritone of his voice washing over him like the gentlest of ocean tides. It’s nice, Katsuki thinks to himself, strolling side by side with Eijirou like this, simply existing and living and loving. It’ll only be two days, but Katsuki is going to miss him so much.
“I’ll call you later,” Eijirou promises, and the lingering warmth from where Eijurou has hugged him before he boarded his train remains long after the two of them have parted ways.
➴♡⟡.·
Katsuki’s parents ask him how he’s doing while they’re seated around a table full of flaming mapo tofu and steamed rice, homemade vanilla ice cream waiting for them in the freezer.
Somehow, he ends up talking about Eijirou instead.
“He’s ridiculous,” he complains, half-annoyed and fully endeared. “Who the fuck wears magenta shorts with a bright red shirt? Eijirou. That’s who! He’s embarrassing!”
“I see,” his old man says, eyes knowing behind the glint of his glasses.
“So,” his old hag waves a spoon in his direction. “You want to date him?”
“Date?” Katsuki scowls, offended. “What kind of half-assed bullshit is that? I’m going to fucking marry him!”
“Good! I taught you well,” she cackles before turning to face his old man, her voice sickly sweet. “Masaru, dear. You know what this means.”
His father sighs, and Katsuki pretends he didn’t see him slide ten thousand yen towards his hag of a mother.
➴♡⟡.·
When Katsuki returns to Heights Alliance, the first thing he sees is Eijirou waiting for him by the gates. It feels like coming home.
➴♡⟡.·
Three days later, Katsuki is watching the live broadcast of Eijirou taking down a group of villains alongside Fat Gum and Suneater during his lunch break, chest aching with the amount of pride that rushed in it when Eijirou lets out a roar of victory.
It’s something that he talks to Eijirou about when he comes back home late in the evening, the two of them sitting in the empty kitchen as Katsuki prepares a celebratory meal for him.
“I saw your fight today,” Katsuki informs him as turns off the stove.
“It was televised!?”
Katsuki nods, carefully plating the burger patty he’s made and placing the food down in front of Eijirou. “Yeah. The whole class saw it. I think the idiots want to celebrate with you, but they fell asleep while waiting. They wanted to tell you how cool you were.”
Eijirou scratches the back of his neck, “Yeah. I think I did okay back there.”
Katsuki squints at Eijirou.
Okay?
Just okay?
No. No way.
That doesn’t sound like someone who just won a fight, and Katsuki’s not having it because he remembers replaying the video of Eijirou fighting while protecting the civilians and thinking: That’s the fucking love of my life being the coolest fucker ever.
“Hey, no. No. What the fuck’s with that?” Katsuki almost growls, wondering if he can punch Eijirou’s insecurities and beat it so hard that it stays down.
Eijirou shrugs, eyes looking everywhere but him.
Katsuki’s shoulders sag because he knows exactly what’s going on. Because people can be strong and cool and unbreakable, but sometimes. Sometimes, they still need the assurance from the people they care about. And although Katsuki is not born with a quirk that can erase self-doubt, he can do this at least.
“Hey, listen,” Katsuki says, “You’re the ultimate tank, and you’re like a fucking war hammer with how heavy you hit. You’re fucking amazing.”
“You mean it?”
Of course Katsuki means it. He’s never lied to Eijirou, at least not about things that truly matter. He knows that Eijirou knows it, so instead he asks, “Who are you?”
“Kirishima Eijirou,” his best friend responds almost automatically, brows furrowed and lips twisted into a confused frown. “I don’t get wh—”
Katsuki shakes his head. Then, more firmly, “Who are you?”
Eijirou’s breath stutters, and Katsuki listens to the silence between each ticking movement of the clock.
Finally, Eijirou exhales.
“Red Riot.”
“And?”
“And I’m your unbreakable,” Eijirou says with laughter, finally looking more like himself. Katsuki considers it as a mission accomplished.
“Don’t ever doubt that again, or I’ll kick your fucking ass.” He threatens before pointing at the quickly cooling food on the table. “Now, eat your fucking burger.”
“Yeah, yeah!”
“And Eijirou?”
Eijirou hums in acknowledgement, offering him a spoon which Katsuki takes and uses to gently tap the crown of Eijirou’s head.
“You did well, and I’m so, so fucking proud of you.” He waits until Eijirou’s full attention is on him, before saying, “My unbreakable.”
➴♡⟡.·
Katsuki has told Eijirou he’s proud of him. He wonders if Eijirou knows just how much.
Katsuki hopes he does.
➴♡⟡.·
“You’re really in love with him, aren’t you?”
Izuku says to him the morning they’re tasked to prepare breakfast together, the two of them moving in sync, efficient in a way that speaks of an entire decade of familiarity.
“Eijirou?” Katsuki raises his shoulders in a careless shrug. “Yeah, I fucking am. Stop looking so shocked.”
“I just didn’t expect you to admit it easily.”
“It’s Eijirou,” Katsuki says like it explains everything, and technically, it does.
Izuku gives him a lopsided smile, “I guess it is. Are you planning to tell him?”
“Not yet.” Katsuki shakes his head, taking the cutting board Izuku handed over, grunting a small thanks as he slides the tray of eggs towards the other without being asked.
“Oh, thanks,” Izuku mumbles. “Eh? Why?”
“I want to give him the best confession of his life. He deserves it,” Katsuki tells him, chopping all the garlic with practiced ease. “Haven’t figured out how to fucking do that yet though.”
“Oh. You’re really serious about him.”
“Plus ultra, right?” Katsuki says and fails to stifle a laugh when Izuku giggles. “Just… don’t meddle or some shit, okay? I told the other idiots the same thing.”
“Of course not, Kacchan.” Izuku promises with all the conviction of a man who’ll rather break his own bones than do something Katsuki doesn’t want him to. “You got this.”
There’s still a lot of healing and growing up to do between the two of them, but he knows that they’re both going to be okay one day. Katsuki may never admit it out loud, but he’s warmed by the fact that they can finally exist in the same space without his insides twisting and turning into something ugly. The nerd’s words now sound like the encouragement they’ve always been instead of the mockery Katsuki’s stupid ears used to hear, so he grins, sharp canines and dimpled cheeks.
“Damn right, I do!”
➴♡⟡.·
In the end, it turns out that he doesn’t have to do anything because it's Eijirou who approaches him first.
His best friend has asked to speak with him one evening, and even in the safety of his room, Eijirou remains silent for a long time. Patiently, Katsuki waits, and when Eijirou finds his voice again, it’s shaky.
“I’m not reading it wrong, am I?” Eijirou begins, hands trembling even as he reaches out to take both of Katsuki’s hands on his own. “Because that would be so embarrassing, and I might actually die on the spot. That'll be so unmanly, dude.”
Katsuki looks down at their joined hands, noting the differences between them and committing all to memory. Katsuki has been thinking of how to give Eijirou the most memorable confession of his life ever since their exhibition match, but only now with Eijirou here, does he remember that there’s no need for him to do such a thing.
It’s Eijirou, and just like how loving him is the easiest thing in the world for Katsuki, telling him about it is no different.
“You know me.” Katsuki inhales, deep and so full of emotions he can barely contain as he squeezes Eijirou’s hand, and exhales. “You know me.”
“I know you,” Eijirou repeats, looking like he’s learned how to breathe again as he grins at him with the brightness of a thousand sunrises, and because Katsuki knows Eijirou’s soul as deeply and as intimately as Eijirou knows his, he knows that Eijirou still waiting for Katsuki to say the actual words, infinitely patient and full of heart.
Katsuki, forever helpless to the force of nature that is Kirishima Eijirou, simply looks him in the eye and grins.
“I’m so stupidly in love with you it’s fucking annoying,” he says it like an absolute, filled with the kind of certainty found in all the times he’s sworn to be the absolute victor in everything he does. “I’ve been referring to you as my future husband in my head!”
The admission startles a laugh out of Eijirou. “Me, too! I’ve been calling you that since summer of second year!”
“Oh, thank fuck! I thought it was too soon.”
“Nah,” Eijirou shakes his head, fondness evident in the tone of his voice as he traces Katsuki’s ring finger with his thumb. “I’ve been thinking of putting a ring here one day.”
“You know, I make explosions with my hand.” Katsuki says lamely, feeling all kinds of choked up. “We can get matching tattoos there instead. That way, it’s not going to get ruined.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Eijirou agress easily, the gentle contentment that has taken over his features is something that will be burned behind Katsuki’s eyelids for a very, very long time. “Hey, future husband.”
Katsuki flushes, his heart fluttering beneath his sternum as he directs a stupidly sappy grin at Eijirou. “The fuck you want, future husband?”
“I love you, too. Let’s move in together after graduation. I want to live together.” Eijirou admits. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while actually. I just don’t know how to bring it up. I made so many plans, you know?"
“Tell me all of them,” Katsuki demands, moving to rest his forehead on Eijirou’s shoulder.
Eijirou does as he’s asked, telling him the future he’s envisioned with him by his side, slowly, deliberately, like it’s a manifestation of a very long dream.
Katsuki listens and hears forever.
➴♡⟡.·