Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

This bar is gross.

Not that he didn’t know that coming in- not that it isn’t the exact reason he comes here- but still. Gross.

An old, dingy jukebox woodles in the corner, the music a touch out of tune, the glass cover dubiously sticky from years’ worth of thrown drinks and deliberate neglect. A few regulars sit in the back, hard-eyed and very pointedly minding their own business. The bartender, an old, sour bastard with a rough face and rougher attitude, stands near the well, endlessly polishing a mug with an old rag, his gaze firmly glued to the television mounted on the wall, glaring at it as if the evening news somehow offends him.

And Katsuki? 

He’s sitting on a faded, rickety stool, one so old and unstable that it feels like it could collapse under his weight at any given second. It wobbles every time he moves his arm, almost shuddering beneath his body with every deep drink.

His eyes sweep left and right, taking in his dingy surroundings, lip curling in distaste at the dusty film coating every surface, and though he’d normally be caught dead before being seen in a place like this, for once, he finds that he can’t really drum up the energy to care. 

He takes another sip of bad whiskey, his teeth gritting at the burn of unrefined liquor. 

Because what is pride next to the empty hole in his chest? Who has the luxury of standards at a time like this, when everything he’d fought for is quietly unraveling- when the future he’d bled for is slowly slipping through his fingers? 

He looks down at the filthy bartop, his eyes drifting listlessly over carved initials and errant knife gouges, his fingertips smoothing over the grooves.

Who cares about anything?

The thought buries itself in like a tick, sucking cruelly at his blood, and suddenly feeling it again- that horrible ache- that breath-stealing pain - his face contorts into a snarl of fury.

Desperate for a distraction- for the call of oblivion- he raises his arm and knocks the entire drink back in a single gulp, trying his best to drown it beneath two ounces of cheap, horse-piss whiskey. 

He swallows roughly. 

It burns, but he doesn’t care. It hurts, but it also feels like nothing. He feels like nothing.

Bleary-eyed and hollow, he turns back to the grizzled bartender, his hand raising to gesture for another-

-When abruptly, he hears a dainty jangle at the edges of his hearing. He feels a quick rush of cool air against the back of his neck like a kiss. The stool next to him scoots out with a shrill squeak. And then, to his complete surprise, a body sinks into it.

“Is this seat taken?” A low voice asks.

Katsuki bristles, his hackles rising.

What kind of stupid, brainless idiot would sit next to him right now? What kind of suicidal moron would try to strike up a conversation when he’s like this, so clearly upset- so clearly a breath from unraveling?

Forsaking every bit of the emotional maturity he’s built brick by brick over the last few years, he doesn’t bother to be kind, turning to the stranger with bared teeth like an angry dog about to bite.

“Fuck off, I-”

His rant abruptly dies in his throat. He suddenly goes silent. Still.

Because, when he turns his head, he realizes in an instant that he knows that body. He knows those eyes. Knows them anywhere. No one else has eyes like that.

A breath gets caught on the way to his lungs.

“Sho-??” He gasps.

Shouto’s face is warm. His mouth twists into a small, playful smile. His head cocks.

“Hello, Katsuki.” He hums, soft and low.

Katsuki gapes at him dumbly, double-checking that he’s not hallucinating- that this isn’t some trick of his eyes. He blinks. Blinks again. But Shouto doesn’t disappear. He’s real.

Shocked to his bones and wholly baffled as to how to respond to this insane twist of fate, he turns in his stool. Head whipping back and forth, he looks around like a dope, expecting someone to be with him: expecting Tenya or Hanta- someone.

But a quick scan of the room shows that he’s alone. No one came with him. Shouto is alone and sitting next to him in the dirtiest dive bar on the South side in a designer sweater and a peacoat , and--

“-- What the - what are you doing here??” Katsuki croaks, looking up helplessly.

Shouto gives him a curious look, almost as if he doesn’t understand the question.

“What else?” He shrugs amiably, eyes shifting to and fro before focusing back on him. “I’m drinking with you.”

Katsuki stares at him. He blinks. Shouto stares back, guileless and soft.

It’s so weird- so fucking unexpected that for a moment, he doesn’t know how to respond. But then, suddenly feeling a rush of suspicion, he peers up and asks:

“--Why??”

Shouto’s eyes quickly sweep the room again. He folds his hands on the bar top.

“Because if your breath and the eye the bartender is giving you are any indicators of the situation-,” He begins, annoyingly matter-of-fact, “-then you have been drinking for a while and you’re probably going to need someone to get you home.”

It’s meant to be thoughtful. He knows it. And if he’s being honest, Shouto has a point. He can feel himself swaying, can feel his vision going hazy from the alcohol, can tell he’s definitely had too much already-

-But at the same time, fuck that. He’s a grown man. A hero. He isn’t some baby who needs a sitter- not some sloppy coed who needs an escort.

He turns to Shouto with hardened eyes.

“I can take care of myself.” He mutters frostily.

To his surprise (and perhaps, his pleasure), Shouto doesn’t recoil or even flinch at the icy tone. He just leans onto an elbow, gives Katsuki this soft, affectionate look, and nods his understanding. 

And of course, he does. He’s never been afraid of the cold.

“I know. I know you can.” He agrees amiably. “I am well aware of your capabilities, Katsuki.”

His mouth flattens. His expression unexpectedly thins.

“But just because you can doesn’t mean you should have to .” He concludes. 

His tone is firm, and yet, cotton-soft all at once, and god, it hits like a punch . 

Katsuki scowls and turns his face away.

Damn it. Damn it.

Because this? It’s Shouto at his finest: calm and decent and far more understanding than he deserves, and no matter how shitty he feels inside- no matter how pissed and angry and hurt he is- he can’t be mean to him. Not when he clearly came all this way to keep him company and look after him. Not when everything he says is so genuine. Not when he’s giving him that sweet, caring look. He can’t.

So, digging deep for patience, he exhales heavily, turning back to him and giving him a flat, weary look.

“You’re not gonna leave, are you?” He asks sullenly.

Shouto smiles. He shrugs.

“No.” He returns warmly. “That is, not unless you’re with me.” 

Katsuki cringes, sinking into his shoulders.

Shit. That’s what he was afraid of.

He looks down at his empty glass wearily, quietly weighing his options for a moment.

Oh, well. No helping it.

Pulling his head up, he sighs, loud and dramatic.

“Ugh. Fine .” He concedes, swiping a hand over his face. “Stay, I guess. It’s your night you’re wasting.”

Not bothering to let him answer, he turns to his right, cupping a hand around his mouth and shouting, “Hey, can we get another round?”

The bartender glances over and peers at him owlishly, his pause showing that he’s clearly counting the drinks in his head. 

He turns to Shouto, ignoring Katsuki completely.

“You got him?” He asks, brow wrinkling.

Shouto sits up straight.

“I do.” He nods gravely.

Mollified, the bartender gives them one more narrow-eyed look before turning back to the shelf of bottles.

“Fine.” He concedes, popping the cap and pouring two more whiskeys. 

He trudges over, looking at Katsuki critically as he sets their glasses down. 

“One more for you and that’s it .” He hisses.

Katsuki frowns at him, waiting until he’s just out of earshot before angrily swiping the glass and taking a sloppy sip.

“Tch. Mean old bastard. ” He mutters under his breath.

Shouto makes a soft tutting sound beside him.

“He’s just doing his job, Katsuki.” He reminds him. 

Ignoring the withering glare Katsuki flashes up at him, Shouto brings the glass to his lips, taking a sip, only to instantly choke and recoil visibly at the sharp burn of cheap, rotgut booze.

And though everything is objectively horrible right now, seeing the shock on his smooth, pretty face- the way his bicolored eyes instantly water and those wide shoulders shiver- he can’t help but smile. Just a bit.

Fighting a dry laugh, Katsuki sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair anxiously.

“Ugh. I know. ” He agrees, bringing the glass up to his mouth. “I’m not mad at him. I’m mad at–”

He pauses halfway through his sentence, stopping himself just before disaster, and thank god for that, because he can’t finish that thought- can’t say that. Not to Shouto, of all people.

But, hard as he tries, the drink makes him slower than usual. Those first few traitorous words slip out before he can stop them completely.

And apparently hearing them loud and clear, Shouto turns to him, instantly rapt with sudden curiosity.

“-At?” He prompts, taking another ginger sip.

Katsuki jerks his face away.

Shit.

“Never mind.” He grits, taking another swig.

There’s suddenly a hand resting on the bare skin of his forearm.

“Katsuki.” Shouto urges softly.

Katsuki tries to ignore the deep, permeating warmth of his touch. He clenches his glass in his hand. His words are sharp. His tone is bitter.

“I said ‘never mind,’ Sho.” He hisses, leaving no room for argument.

The body beside him goes still. The hand leaves his forearm, taking the lovely warmth with it as Shouto turns back to his drink.

“Alright.” He concedes coolly.

He takes another dainty sip, pointedly not looking at him as he swallows sharply and whispers, “But it would just be easier if you said that you were upset with Izuku. It’s not like I don’t know.”

The world tilts. He hadn’t meant to reveal a thing, and yet, at the sound of that name, he sucks in a gasp, the sudden inhale of air making him choke on his drink.

Whiskey shoots up his nose. Eyes immediately stinging, he coughs loudly for a moment, turning to Shouto with blurry vision.

“How do you-?” He asks raggedly, still trying to get his breath back-

-But then, quickly changing tack, he amends to a deliberately nonchalant, “Sho, why would you think I’m mad at Deku?”

The bluff comes too late- too weak. Shouto’s eyes slide over, slow and flat. His pupils shrink, expression souring into a frown, almost as if such an obvious question is somehow beneath their dignity.

He leans onto a hand, giving him a sharp look.

“Because you are. ” He returns coolly. “Please don’t insult me, Katsuki. You’re one of my closest friends. I know you. I know your habits.”

Looking down at him, he abruptly softens, some of the edge blunting into something much more understanding.

“I know you only drink alone when you’re upset.” He adds with sudden tenderness, thumbing around his glass.

His gaze flicks around the space with no lack of disdain. 

“I know you chose this bar because you won’t see anyone you know here.”

And then, with a great heave of shoulders, he sighs, loud and long and weary, his bicolored head tilting back.

“And I know that you come here every Friday when Izuku and Ochako have been going on their dates.” He explains quietly. “Your habits are like clockwork, Katsuki. It was all too easy to put two and two together.”

He raises his glass and takes another graceful sip, nose wrinkling delicately at the burn.

“So I thought I might as well join you.” He shrugs, setting it back down with a muted clunk . “Give you some company, perhaps.”

He looks over, equal parts playful and sardonic.

“ Or, at the very least, make sure you get home in one piece.” He adds, a touch devilish.

Shocked, Katsuki stares at him, his heart suddenly in his throat.

The world goes quiet for a moment. His ears ring. Because, as always, Shouto has him figured out- had somehow seen right through the facade of snark and snide and right into his gooey center. The bastard.

But even so, he can’t help but wonder.

“...Why?” He asks incredulously, scarcely above a whisper. “I’m sure you got lots of better shit to do.”

Shouto tenses and then slowly melts bit by bit, chuckling warmly before turning to him with a much softer expression.

“Because I care about you.” He answers simply- earnestly. “I care.”

The gentle camaraderie in his eyes quietly hardens into something more serious, the soft curve of his mouth tensing into a flat line. His words are barely audible over the crack of pool balls and the grumbling of patrons.

“You think I can’t see that you’re hurting, Katsuki?” He asks gently. “You think I can’t see what it’s doing to you?” 

He sets his glass down, gaze boring into the dirty bartop.

“I’m aware that my social skills often leave something to be desired, but I’m not blind . I’ve been watching you for months now- watching you sink lower and lower.”

He turns and looks at him then, sharp, undiluted pity in those mismatched eyes.

“You’re in pain. ” He whispers, voice going thin. “And what kind of friend would I be if I let you suffer alone? What kind of person could see you in pain and not reach out?”

He leans over until their arms bump, his tone soft and gentle as he adds, “The very least I can do is share a drink with you and give you a shoulder.”

It rings out. Bounces between them.

And suddenly feeling utterly exposed- bare and raw- Katsuki’s hand clenches around his glass. His throat tightens until it almost hurts to breathe.

“...Is it that obvious?” He finally asks, looking down at his lap.

Shouto makes a soft sound of caring.

“No.” He answers quickly. “I don’t think so- at least, not to others.” He adds assuringly. 

His head turns, his expression thin. 

“But it is to me .” He whispers.

It’s said so softly- with so much care- and yet, it hits like a blow , the impact of it stirring up all those tamped-down feelings inside; the pain and anger and regret. He feels it creeping up his sides like frost on a windowpane, threatening to swallow him once more-

-When suddenly, that hand is back, resting down on his forearm, the deep permeating heat of it chasing away the cold.

“So tell me.” Shouto pleads, quiet and humble. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

His palm squeezes tightly around his skin, strong and comforting all at once.

“It’s festering in you. I can see it.” He murmurs. “So share that burden with me.”

Katsuki freezes, so shocked that for a moment, he can’t even speak.

Because he’s never once told anyone about this- never once told anyone how he really feels. Not in all these years. But somehow, Shouto sees. Somehow, Shouto knows.

And feeling a sudden jolt of panic at being so exposed, he opens his mouth, trying desperately to think of some way to throw him off the trail.

“Sho.” He begins weakly, unsure of what to say next- how to shake him off–

“--I won’t breathe a word. I swear.” Shouto suddenly interrupts, not letting him finish. “I would never betray your trust- your confidence.”

When Katsuki turns to him, his pretty face is drawn, almost desperate.

“You need to get it out of you , Katsuki.” He pleads, palm squeezing tight. “You need to tell someone.”

His face cringes.

“...It’s killing you.” He whispers. 

Katsuki stares at him, lips pressed. His guts twist, roiling with sudden nausea. 

Because even though he hates to admit it, Shouto’s right. He does need to tell someone. He’s needed to tell someone for a long time. And god, it is festering in him- killing him- rotting inside him like an infection; tainting his blood and contaminating his body bit by bit.

He’s tried for so long to fight it off- to be strong- but god, he’s only human. No matter how strong he was, he was gonna break down eventually. A man can only take so much.

And now, against all odds, someone has come to pull him out of that despair. Shouto is here, ready to take on that burden, prepared to help shoulder the pain- to cut him open and flush out the poison.

He steals a wary glance at him- heart burbling at the careful concern in his fine features.

He could tell him. He could. The words are right there, right on the tip of his tongue- the curves of his lips. 

But god, once it’s out, there’s no going back- no closing the door. Does he risk it? Does he dare?

He goes back and forth for a long moment, trying to weigh the options through his sluggish, addled head, making a decision and then unmaking it- agreeing and then rescinding-

-And it’s then, when Katsuki feels like he might actually crack from the tension- like his head will actually split from his indecision, that Shouto moves, his big hand sliding down the length of his forearm, warm and heavy, until it’s draped lovingly over his own.

He twines their fingers together, squeezing them in a firm, comforting hold.

“Tell me what you’re feeling.” He pleads. “Share your grief with me.”

His eyes sweep up, blue and grey and almost pained.

“Let me be that person for you.” He begs softly. “Let me take some of that weight for you.” 

His mouth going wobbly at the corners, he meets his gaze and holds it gently, almost radiating comfort as he leans close and whispers:

“I would never betray your trust. I would never hurt you.”

And worst of all:

“You’re safe with me, Katsuki.” He whispers, meaning every word. “So let me in. ”

Katsuki gapes. His mouth bobs. And in a heartbeat, the decision is made.

Because he is safe with Shouto. He knows he is. Knows it better than he knows his own thoughts- his own heart. There’s almost no one in the world he feels safer with.

In all the years they’ve known each other, Shouto has always been there for him- has never let him down, not once. Sure, they fuss and argue- bicker and snit- but he knows that Shouto will always go to bat for him, no matter the circumstances- no matter the danger. He knows that Shouto has his back. He knows, without a single doubt in his mind, that Shouto would put his life on the line for him without a second thought- would give his life without a single regret.

And compared to that, sharing this secret seems… insignificant . Pathetically so.

So, trying to honor the trust between them- to honor Shouto’s efforts and consideration- he forces himself to quit being such a coward and finally say it; forces himself to rip open his chest and finally tell someone about his pain.

He looks down at the bartop. Grits his teeth. Tries to rein in the way his heart wails- the way his guts writhe as he finally speaks it aloud.

One more deep breath. A push, and then:

“...It was supposed to be us .” He whispers wretchedly, clutching his glass like a lifeline. “It was supposed to be me and Deku, Sho.”

His face sinks despairingly into his palm. And then, not bothering to stop the wobble in his words, he shakily whispers, “He was supposed to love me.”  

The painful truth slips out of him, slicing him up on the way out. Shredding at the seams, he forces himself to look up into those soft, understanding eyes, hating how blurry his own vision has become- how weak he must look.

“I did everything I could to give him his dream.” He grits, fighting through the acid sting of emotion. “I did everything I could to help him be a hero again.”

Shouto lets out a horrible sound- one that scrapes over him like sandpaper- and suddenly feeling way too exposed, he tears his eyes away again, staring down at the scars on his hands. 

“I sweat. And bled .” He snarls, lip curling angrily. “I worked myself to the fucking bone. ”

His hand clenches tighter.

“And I really thought he’d see it.” He mutters bitterly, more to himself than anyone. “I really thought it would be enough to show him.”

His stomach twists. His throat tightens.

“I thought he’d finally see me. ” He whispers, hollow- sick.

And it’s then, feeling that chasm inside open wide, that he finally looks up again, bravely staring into two mismatched eyes. 

They swim with empathy. They dance with pity. God, it only shows just how much Shouto cares. And prompted by that emotion- feeling safe- feeling seen - he holds that shared gaze. He doesn’t look away. 

He’s never told anyone this. Never dared. He’d always been too afraid. But the worst has already come. What’s left to fear?

So, anchoring himself in those eyes, he digs deep, past all his barriers and walls, surrendering himself to the void as he willingly shares his deepest, darkest secret.

“I told him that I wanted to be with him for the rest of my life.” He croaks, voice wavering. “And fuck, I meant it. I was committed .”

It hurts- burns - but he doesn’t look away, holding those eyes like a life raft as the wide blackness of despair threatens to pull him down and drown him.

And true to his word, Shouto stays with him. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t run. He doesn’t cringe or scold or shirk away. No, he holds him, keeping him above the water with strong, gentle hands. And that quiet support gives Katsuki the push he needs- the courage he’s always lacked: gives him the strength to finally say the words out loud after a decade’s worth of painful silence.

“I love him, Sho.” He confesses weakly, eyes blurring. 

His hand shakes around his glass. His words splinter. 

“I love him so fucking much.”  

And then, it’s out. It’s out . It’s ringing through the air, and it’s out.

He’d been so afraid, but now that he’d said it, it’s oddly cathartic hearing it echo around them- almost, dare he say, sort of euphoric to finally feel those taboo words spill out of his mouth. It’s like a years-long weight has abruptly been taken from his back- like he can finally breathe after years of choking on smoke. 

But even so, the relief is disappointingly fleeting. Because confessing his feelings like this, while providing a tiny respite, doesn’t really change the situation. Sharing his burden doesn’t ease the ache. It can’t take back time. It can’t alter reality.

He clenches his jaw. 

“And now, he’s with her.” He spits acidly. “After everything I did and sacrificed, he turned around and chose her. ”

Jealous and furious, he imagines her in his mind’s eye: her soft features and big eyes and smile, her gentle aura, her power and beauty-

-And suddenly, just as quickly as it had come, the anger instantly gutters. His fury dies. 

Because, for all his hurt feelings and envy, he’s not actually angry at her. Not really.

He looks up at Shouto again wearily.

“And I can’t even hate her for it.” He admits in a croak. “Not for any of it.”

He sighs heavily, forcing himself to be level-headed- to be kind when it would be so easy to be cruel.

“Chako’s a good person.” He concedes, shoulders slumping. “She went off and grew up and became a great hero and that’s good- it’s so good. She’s my friend and I’m proud of her and all the good work she does, I am- ”

He pauses for a moment, holding space for the inevitable ‘but.’

His jaw bunches. His palm quietly pops.

“--But where was she when Deku lost the embers?” He asks spitefully. 

He whips his eyes up, glaring up at Shouto’s impassive expression from under furrowed brows.

“Did she look after him while he was in college?” He asks tartly, not caring how petty it is. “Did she check in on him during finals? Cook him meals when he’d forget to eat? Lecture at his dumb nerd classes when he asked? Hold him while he cried?”

He’s not being fair, he knows. She had a life of her own- it isn’t her fault- and he chose to do all those things, he did- chose them readily- with open arms-

-But at the same time, goddamn it, it stings. It fucking hurts.

“Did she do humiliating fashion shoots and cologne ads to raise the money for the suit?” He asks, voice cracking as embarrassment seeps into his mouth. “Did she grovel on her knees to every hero and billionaire and support company for grants and donations?”

He reaches up and runs a hand agitatedly through his hair, trying to diffuse some of that whirling grief- to calm himself through motion.

Fair. Be fair.

He lets out a slow breath, trying to regain some control.

“I mean, she contributed- of course, she did - you all did.” He rationalizes. 

And there, at the very height of his frustration, he suddenly remembers something important. 

His eyes sweep upward, his tone softening.

“ Fuck , Sho, you gave your entire trust fund.” He exclaims softly. “Every last yen.” 

Shouto blinks at him. He registers what he’d said. And then, as always, his eyes dart aside modestly, his wide shoulders rising and falling in a sheepish shrug.

“...I didn't need it.” He whispers gently, pink dusting his cheeks.

It’s humble. Quiet. And once again, with just one soft phrase, Shouto proves that he’s the best person on Earth- too good for this world.

It should calm him. It should make him feel better. It should. But for some reason, it only makes it worse- only makes him angrier.

“But you were there . Almost as much as me.” He hisses sharply, sweeping a wide arc with his arm. “Where was she , huh?”

He sets down his glass, thumping a fist against his chest.

“I was there, Sho.” He snarls indignantly. “I was there. Right by his side. Every move. Every step. I was there.”

He looks up, head swimming, not bothering to hide the growing despair on his face- the way his voice goes weaker with every phrase.

“I wiped his tears.” He croaks. “I held him up. I cared for him.”

His hands shake around his glass. 

“I gave my heart for him.” He whispers hollowly.

And it’s then, with those anguished words slipping through his mouth, that he suddenly freezes- that everything goes abruptly, painfully still- that it finally, finally clicks in his head.

“...And he still doesn’t see me.” He whispers, more to himself than anything.

It’s said so softly, and yet, it hits like a punch, digs like a weevil- carves him open from the inside. 

Hell, actually being carved open might hurt less.

Horrified, he looks up slowly, almost begging for Shouto to fight back- to tell him he’s wrong as  he quietly whispers, “...He’s never gonna see me, is he?”

Shouto’s handsome face falls. His mouth drops open. His eyes glimmer with despair. 

God, he looks devastated.

And worst of all, he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t fight back.

But even so, he must see that Katsuki needs his strength right now- his support- and so, he quickly pulls himself together, his skin as white as snow as he shakes his head and whispers, “I don’t know. I wish I could tell you.” 

He closes his eyes, sucking in a breath and letting it out slowly. 

“Izuku is my dearest friend. My hero . But for all his many, many talents and virtues, he can be quite… blind.”

His gaze drifts away from Katsuki’s face, his eyes going hazy as he stares forward wistfully.

“He’s so bright. Like the sun.” He whispers dreamily, tracing fingertips around his glass. “And when he shines on you, it feels incredible. So warm. Like you could do anything. Be anything.” 

His pupils suddenly sharpen.

“But when that sun isn’t on you anymore?” He asks. “When it’s pointing at someone else and that warmth leaves you?” 

Ice suddenly curls across his knuckles, frosting the edges of his glass.

“The chill is indescribable.” He explains, looking down into the dark, rippling surface of his drink. “The dark can be almost unbearable .”

His mouth presses to a flat line. His face goes pale.

“And all you can do is dream about that sun again.” He whispers weakly.” All you can do is look to the sky and wait- pray for its warmth to return.”

He goes quiet. Beside him, Katsuki watches him in breathless wonder, utterly entranced by the look in his eyes, completely bewitched by the curves and lines of his face. 

His throat bobs. His stomach twists.

Because this? What Shouto had described? It’s a feeling he knows well- a feeling he didn’t think anyone else could possibly understand. But apparently, Shouto does. He understands. He’s clearly felt it himself. And suddenly seeing his own pain mirrored in that enigmatic expression, he looks at him with new eyes, abruptly confronted with a burning question.

“...How would you know?” He asks carefully, his palm clutching around his glass, “How the hell do you-??”

“--Because I know that cold well.” Shouto interrupts levelly, not looking at him. “Because Izuku doesn’t see me , either.”

Katsuki blinks. 

It’s the last thing he expected- so far out of left field that he, already loose from drink, actually stutters . 

“Wha- that’s- you-!?” He asks.

Shouto doesn’t respond. 

Suddenly feeling dumb, he quickly pulls himself together, insisting, “Sho, of course, he sees you. You’re his best friend.”

Shouto’s eyes glide over, cold and icy.

“And so are you.” He returns, his mouth a tight line.

His gaze drops low, hard as iron.

“I know exactly how you feel, Katsuki.” He offers. “Probably better than anyone in this world.”

Katsuki blinks at him slowly, still not understanding.

“...How?” He croaks.

And for all its frosty steel, Shouto’s mouth suddenly quirks, his lips turning into a tiny, dry smile, almost as if the question is somehow funny .

“Because you’re not the only one who loves him.” He answers simply.

He lets out a deep exhale, looking helplessly up at the ceiling as if searching for answers before closing his eyes and whispering, “I love him, too.”

Katsuki gapes at him.

…What?? That’s not- he can’t.

His eyes suddenly tear down to the bartop. 

Drunk. He must be drunk- must be shitfaced, because that can’t be true.

He looks back up at Shouto, and unfortunately sounding every bit as intoxicated as he is, he opens his mouth and tries to ask what the fuck he’s talking about- he does -

-But what comes out is a truly boorish:

“You- you- hah!?”

Shouto cracks his eyes and looks at him again, steely and unmovable: a prince of ice and snow.

“I love him.” He shrugs blandly, daring another tiny sip. “I love Izuku. I always have. I’m surprised you never noticed.” 

And then, with an incredulous cock of brows, he glances at him out of the corner of his vision and softly adds, “I wasn’t subtle.”

Katsuki slumps, almost melting into his seat, staring up at Shouto as if he’d suddenly grown another head. 

But then, staring at him so intently, he thinks about it- really thinks- and honestly? It slowly begins to make sense. He’d never paid much attention to it (had always been so far in his own head and lost in his own feelings that he hadn’t taken the time to consider it), but now that it’s right in front of his face, staring down at him, he can’t help but think about it. 

And oh. Oh, fuck.

One moment of thought- just one - and he’s suddenly confronted with dozens of memories he’d overlooked, scores of instances throughout the years where Shouto had been a touch too friendly. A hair too familiar. Lingering too close. Smiling too wide.

He suddenly remembers how Shouto used to gently drape Deku in blankets during second and third year when he would fall asleep in the common room. His nightmares were so bad then, and Shouto, always so considerate and kind, would curl up beside him to keep him warm and protect him through the night, hushing him and holding him when he would scream himself awake. 

He remembers the way Shouto had carried him home from the bar the first night they’d gotten drunk together a few years back, Deku’s freckled limbs draped limply over those strong shoulders as those two-toned eyes had shone up at him, hazy and soft and utterly captivated. 

He recollects the sight of Shouto gently dragging his fingers through emerald curls when Deku had fallen asleep in his lap during movie night just last month. The loving look on his handsome face. The heat. The affection.

He remembers and remembers, each new thought and damning memory only punctuating what he already knows, and god, now that he understands, it hits him like a fucking brick.  

The soft, adoring crinkle of those mismatched eyes. The blink-and-you-miss-it smile. The way his face almost melts when they speak. The gentle tone he reserves solely for Deku.

He jerks his head up.

“Oh, fuck. ” He whispers to himself. “Oh my god, you do! ” He exclaims, turning and looking up at him. 

Shouto nods at him in confirmation, utterly unmoved, and shocked, and yet, completely un shocked, Katsuki reaches up, a hand resting over his open mouth.

“Holy shit.” He whispers, muffled, into his palm. “Holy fucking shit.”

He sits with it for a moment, that devastating truth hitting harder and harder until it feels like a combo punch, rattling his already-swimming head until he feels like his brain will actually explode-

-And when all that insane clarity finally comes to a head, he looks over at him, exasperated and curious and just a little pissed as he rasps, “But you- you never said-!!”

Shouto looks back at him, a touch of irritation cutting through his fine features.

“--Would you? ” He asks cynically, a white brow rising tall. 

He turns back to his drink, his voice scarcely above a mutter as he blows a breath through his lips and adds, “It’s not like I was his first choice.”

Katsuki’s jaw drops. He blinks.

And more than likely sensing that he needs some sort of explanation, Shouto sets down his glass and turns to him.

“I always thought it would be you .” He declares, softening. “If it was any of us, it had to be you .” 

His eyes go warm. His voice is low and steady.

“It had to be Kacchan .” He offers with a sudden touch of humor. “There was no one but Kacchan.”

Katsuki digests it, slow and painful like a heavy meal, completely baffled and yet, oddly vindicated.

So even Shouto thought so. Even Shouto, who loved him, thought that he and Deku would be together. It’s an unexpectedly validating thought.

But before he can say anything else, Shouto sighs quietly and turns back to his drink.

“But the war- it hurt him.” He muses, looking down into the dark surface of his whiskey. “Deeply. Irrevocably. ” He grits, mouth twisting. “Something happened to him after losing One for All- losing Tomura. Something horrible.”

His features ease, going soft and somber.

“His heart is his greatest gift-,” He offers with a weak smile, tracing the rim of his glass, “-his real power. But losing so much so soon? It’s like his heart was… stunted.”

His eyes flick over.

“Don’t misunderstand me: he’s still the man I fell in love with all those years ago, but he’s almost muffled. Like he’s on mute.”

Katsuki’s body swells with sudden interest. His eyes go wide.

Yes. Holy shit. That’s exactly how he’d felt- exactly what he’d always thought. It was like all that nerdy joy inside him had been siphoned away- like the war had crunched him under its heel and never let him up again.

He’d thought as much for years. And while nobody else seemed to notice it, Shouto did. 

And of course, he did. He loves him, too. Perhaps it takes that deep sort of love to see past the empty smiles and platitudes and into the pain within.

“Something inside him broke, I think.” Shouto continues, thumbs rubbing anxiously across the glass. “It’s like all of the color was taken from him. For years, it’s like he’s just been coasting by, doing what he can.” 

His pretty mouth pinches into a flat, hard line. His eyes go dull.

“He’s not well.” He whispers, low and deep. “I saw it.” 

His gaze flicks over, sharp and intent. 

“I know you did, too.”

It’s like someone kicked him in the chest- like someone slammed his head against the pavement. 

All these years, he’d thought it. All these years, he’d watched his best friend stumble through life, merely a shade of the person he used to be. And he’d felt insane- out of his mind that no one else seemed to notice- that no one else seemed to see the intense pain in those green eyes.

But Shouto saw it, too. And now, armed with that knowledge, he’s suddenly confronted with a score of memories; of Shouto coming out with them- keeping in touch. Busy as he was and is as the number two, he always makes time for Deku- is always, always there to celebrate every milestone and accomplishment.

He was there by Katsuki’s side, tall and smiling, at Deku’s graduation. He guest lectured at UA just as much as Katsuki had. Could always be counted upon to show up with pizza and beer on hard nights. 

And until now, Katsuki had always assumed that these things were done out of friendship- a deep, intimate friendship, sure, but just that. 

But now, knowing the truth- that Shouto loves him, everything begins to make sense.

“But the suit changed everything.” Shouto continues, a touch of light returning to his face. “Now, it’s like he has purpose again. A goal. A dream. ”

His mouth curves into a small, subtle smile. 

“And I think it’s brought back some of the confidence he lost- some of the light- the color . It’s prompted him to be brave- to reach for things he didn’t think he could.”

His jaw pulls tight. His eyes are agonized .

“And I’m happy for him.” He whispers. “Truly. Deeply. With all of my heart. But-”

He trails off into silence.

And somehow, Katsuki knows exactly what to say- knows just how to finish that sentence. He knows because he’s thought about it a thousand times. He knows because every word reverberates in his heart like a struck gong. He knows.

He looks up, meeting Shouto’s eyes.

“--But why her ?” He asks, voice wavering.

Shouto goes still. And then, he suddenly jerks his chin away, staring straight ahead, his eyes shining with pain. 

His throat bobs. He takes a moment before speaking again.

“...She’s very beautiful.” He eventually answers, kind as ever. “And strong. And smart. A wonderful hero. A caring person. They’d be good together.” He takes another sip, clearly using the drink as a distraction.

His handsome face suddenly turns to stone, his emotions locked tight behind a wall of ice.

“I think they could make each other happy.” He whispers flatly.

Katsuki’s heart (what remains of it, anyway) shrivels and blackens. His shoulders slump. 

Because it’s exactly what he’d thought himself- the thing that keeps him up at night.

Sick to his guts, he looks down at the bartop- the gouged initials and sticky spots- his eyes going blurry as he whispers:

“And that’s the worst fucking part.”

Shouto doesn’t move. He just stares straight ahead, face frozen, eyes shimmering.

“Yes.” He croaks. “That’s the worst fucking part.”

For a moment, no one speaks. The jukebox in the back corner croons a soft, slow, romantic melody, almost mocking their pain. 

And suddenly, the world is too much- too big- too heavy.

He feels like something is pressing on his chest- like he can’t get enough air- like he’s going to lose his shit if he doesn’t get out of here.

Normally, he’d take charge: get to his feet, slam down some money, and run -

-But he doesn’t. Not tonight. Because the ever-present warmth at his side reminds him that he doesn’t have to do it alone; reminds him that there is at least one person who understands- one person who he can rely on. And even though it feels weird to depend on someone like this, he turns his eyes up pleadingly.

“Sho?” He asks.

His voice is watery and soft, so far from its usual timbre that Shouto immediately sets down his glass and turns to him.

“Yes, Katsuki?” He asks, placing a hand over his.

He almost sinks.

It’s warm. It’s so, so warm.

He doesn’t bother to be tough.

“Can you take me home?” He asks beseechingly.

There’s a soft exhale by his ear. A sinking of shoulders in his peripheral vision.

“Of course.” Shouto answers instantly. Not wasting a second, he turns his head to the side, raising a hand to get the bartender’s attention.

“We’ll settle up, please.” He calls.

The sour-faced bartender comes back a moment later, grumbling acidly under his breath as he sets down the receipt-

-And even blurry as his vision is getting from the booze, Katsuki doesn’t miss the subtle widening of two-toned eyes as Shouto reads it- as he sees just how much he’d drunk tonight.

Suddenly feeling a touch sheepish for overindulging, he reaches into his pocket for his card.

“Give it here.” He grunts.

But Shouto moves quick. In a blink, his thick, black, double-platinum-whatever card is already out, set down on the bar far out of his reach.

“I’ve got it.” He whispers softly.

Katsuki’s stomach fizzes with emotion. Embarrassment? He isn’t sure.

But what he is sure of is that he’s not going to let his friend pay for his bad decisions, so he tilts his eyes up, brows drawn down into a dangerous look of warning.

“Sho.” He begins to growl, arm reaching-

-Only for a hand to rest down on his, Shouto’s long, elegant fingers clasping tight and holding him carefully, his entire face radiating safety and calm.

“I’ve got it , Katsuki.” He insists.

And for some reason (he really doesn’t know why), it works. He immediately backs down, sinking into his stool like a pacified child, almost drowning in the warmth of his touch- the comfort in his voice- the reassurance that seems to radiate out of him.

But at the same time, never one to completely show his belly, he does pout a bit, looking at him out of the corner of his eye like a sulky child as he sullenly whispers, “Fine.”

The bartender runs Shouto’s card. Shouto signs it. They stand from their stools.

And oh, holy fuck , the moment his feet touch down onto the ground, all those drinks suddenly catch up with him in a rush. He sways horribly as he struggles for balance, his hands fumbling for something solid to grab as the world begins to nauseatingly spin-

-And right on cue, there’s Shouto, six-foot-three and two hundred plus pounds of solid muscle to tether him down to Earth, taking his hands and steadying him carefully.

“Let’s get you home.” He whispers.

Too dizzy to argue, Katsuki nods his head obediently, his vision swimming as he allows Shouto to slide one big arm across his back and lead him out the door.

The night is cold and damp. His breath fogs out in front of his mouth. And honestly, thank god for Shouto, because he’s having a hell of a time walking, even with help. All of the colors are blurring. All of the sounds around him turn into a giant mush in his ears.

But luckily, Shouto’s car is nearby- he said so- and so, he walks along meekly, trusting his friend to escort him safely home.

Neither of them speaks as they make their way, the splat of wet footsteps on the concrete the only sound around them-

-Or it would be, until, suddenly struck by intoxicated inspiration, an inner thought blurts itself out of Katsuki’s mouth. 

“Bet they get married.” He tosses out haphazardly. “Bet I’m standing there next to him like a fuckin’ chump holding that ring.”

He can feel the sudden stiffness in Shouto’s body- the dawning horror of that realization- but as always, master of self-control that he is, Shouto manages to press it down, morphing his voice into something warm and comforting.

He leans down to his ear, every word like a balm on his soul as he gently whispers, “ Then I’ll be right next to you .” 

A soft chuckle. 

“--If Izuku wants me, that is.” He amends.

Katsuki blinks. For all of the obvious ache inside it, it makes his heart do a stupid little flop. 

Fuck. Oh, fuck. Why is that so sweet? Why does that touch him so deeply?

Flushing pink, he turns his head back down, hoping Shouto can’t see it on his face.

They walk another block. Katsuki keeps his eyes on the ground.

All too soon, Shouto slows to a stop, reaching into his pocket, and before Katsuki can ask why, there’s a beep on the edge of his hearing. 

He brings his head up, soupy and slow, seeing Shouto’s car in the distance. Thank god.

They come up to it slowly. Using nothing but raw strength, Shouto holds Katsuki upright with one hand, cleverly managing to get the door open with the other before slowly guiding him inside, taming flailing limbs all the while.

No wonder he’s number two.

And of course, it’s then, being poured into the car like a wet noodle, that another horrible thought rushes out of Katsuki’s loose, drunken mouth.

“And kids. ” He hisses just before Shouto closes the door. “Stupid, freckle-faced adorable, little kids. Cute as shit and smart as hell.”

He looks up at Shouto’s face with sudden determination.

“And strong. ” He adds, brows drawing down. “They’d be so fuckin’ strong. ”

This time, there’s no pain in those bicolored eyes. No, in fact, Shouto actually smiles at him like the idea is somehow pleasant.

“Definitely.” He agrees, stooping down and fastening his seatbelt for him.

Katsuki scowls at the gentle treatment, ready to open his mouth and tell Shouto to stop babying him-

-But, honestly, it’s kind of, well, nice being taken care of. Nice to know that someone’s looking out for him. And so, he swallows down all that indignance and lets Shouto do it without complaint.

Because he’s drunk. It’s fine. He’ll think about that tomorrow.

The ride to Katsuki’s apartment is pretty quiet. After all, Shouto drives like a grandma on his best days, and now, with precious cargo aboard, he drives even slower, making sure to take corners carefully and accelerate slowly as not to make him nauseous, which is incredibly thoughtful, sure-

-But now, without anything else to focus on, his traitorous, drunken dick of brain keeps blurting out stupid shit- shit he’d never say sober.

“Deku’d be a great dad.” He remarks as they cross the bridge, his eyes drifting blearily, cheek pressing flat against the window. “He loves kids. He should have kids.”

He blinks slowly, fighting sleep.

“A whole mess of ‘em. Fuckin’... six or something.” He mutters.

There’s a soft, amused chuckle at his side.

“Uncle Shouto has a nice ring to it.” Shouto murmurs, playing along.

His eyes drift over at a red light, shiny in the low light.

“But more importantly, would it be Uncle Katsuki or Uncle Kacchan?” He asks with a touch of humor.

Katsuki looks over, glowering at him.

“Uncle Dynamight .” He pouts, peeling his face from the window and crossing his arms over his chest as his back thumps against the seat. “There’s only one snot-nosed brat in my life that’s allowed to call me Kacchan and he–”

The world grinds to a sharp halt.

Everything stops.

His breath turns to acid in his lungs. His guts lurch.

Suddenly, he really thinks of it: of Deku marrying someone else- having kids with someone else- loving someone else.

Deku in someone else’s arms. Deku far away. Deku gone.

His stomach turns. His chest aches.

It’s the worst thing imaginable; so devastating that with that one phrase, his entire body suddenly collapses in on itself as thick, shameful tears immediately well up in his eyes.

“-he-” He tries again, voice crumbling like sand, nose sniffling pitifully.

He closes his mouth, ready to press it back- lock it tight- swallow it down-

–But why bother? Why hide it? The love of his life doesn’t love him back. The things he’s worked for since school are essentially meaningless. He’s wasted his youth chasing something that’ll never be. He’s given his heart and soul to a forlorn hope- a futile cause.

And suddenly, drunk as he is, he can’t stop it. He can’t help it.

His eyes flood and then spill over. Tears stream down his cheeks, forcing him to hiccup through his sobs as he abruptly buries his face in his hands and cries, “ Sho, what am I gonna do? Fuck, what are we gonna do?” 

His fingernails dig into his skin, almost clawing his face as he finally succumbs to despair.

“That’s it.” He croaks, teeth gritting against the sting. “It’s over. It’s all just over.” 

He pulls up his head, staring down at his trembling palms in horror.

“I don’t have anything anymore.” He rasps. “There’s nothing left.”

Shouto makes a hollow, punted sound. His breath rattles. The air drops ten degrees in an instant. And in a shocking break from his usual, careful driving, the car suddenly lurches to the left as he quickly pulls over to the side of the road.

The car screeches into park, barely stopping before his right hand is suddenly peeling off of the steering wheel and wrapping around the side of Katsuki’s head, pulling him in tight to his shoulder, wordlessly encouraging him to use him as a support. 

His deep voice is smooth as silk, almost like home as he leans to Katsuki’s ear and mournfully whispers, “Don’t say that. Don’t give up. We’ll figure it out somehow.” He assures him. “We always do.”

And sure, yeah, he’s right, but still.

Too heartsick and empty to respond, he just turns into him, shamelessly burying his face into Shouto’s coat with a rattling breath, not bothering to hide his tears as he weeps softly into his shoulder.

Shouto’s jaw clenches against his temple. His voice splinters like rotten wood.

“Don’t cry, Katsuki. Please.” He begs brokenly. “ Please.”

But he can’t obey this time. He can’t stop the tears. Because, in some small way, he knows that he needs it; needs to finally stop trying to be so damn strong and just break for a little bit-

-And perhaps, as always, Shouto can see that, too, because he doesn’t ask again. 

No, he just holds him close and lets him cry, not making a single peep of protest when Katsuki wipes his wet cheeks on his sweater. 

A few moments later, Shouto parks in front of his apartment building. He comes around the front of the car, opens the door, and unbuckles Katsuki’s seatbelt, pointedly not saying anything about the tears drying on his cheeks as he hauls him upright and guides him through the front door.

He shoulders him through the foyer. He presses the elevator button. 

Katsuki lets his head fall. He closes his eyes. And he must brown out for a moment, because when he opens them again, they’re somehow already out of the elevator and into his hallway.

Peeking down with one eye, he reaches into his pocket, his hand clumsy and slow as he fumbles for his key, handing it to Shouto as they reach his door.

He closes his eyes again, and when he opens them, he’s no longer in the hallway, but in his apartment, or rather, his bedroom, sitting at the side of his bed as Shouto quietly fusses in his drawers.

He squints in the low light, feeling himself swaying even while sitting still.

Fuck. He drank way too much.

Trying to get his bearings, he peers around the room, his eyes moving slowly until they finally fix onto Shouto’s broad back. And once again finding himself unable to contain the whirling mass of thoughts in his head, he opens his mouth and foolishly lets another one rip out into the air.

“What if that’s it?” He asks, his words slurred and slow, “What if he’s it for me, Sho? What if I can’t love anyone else?” 

So occupied just a moment ago, Shouto suddenly stands up straight at the sound of it, looking over his shoulder in complete horror, a pair of joggers clutched tight in his white-knuckled hands until frost licks over his fingertips.

Then, just as quick, his brows draw down into a deep furrow. His mouth is a thin line.

“Don’t say that, Katsuki.” He scolds gently. 

With a sigh, he plucks a shirt from a drawer and turns back to him, coming to his front and dutifully sinking down to his knees. 

“I don’t think that’s true.” He argues, carefully untying his shoes and shedding his socks one by one. “I think you have more love in you than you think.”

Katsuki blinks at him, not quite understanding.

“But what if I can’t? ” He asks.

Shouto gives him a terse look through his lashes, gesturing for him to raise his arms. 

And for once, too drunk to argue, he does it readily, lifting them high over his head.

“Will I be alone forever?” He asks, the words muffling as Shouto pulls his shirt over his chin and quickly replaces it with a clean one. “Will I have to just sit there and watch and it all slips though my fuckin’ hands?”

Shouto’s mouth presses into a tight frown, a small, unhappy sound curling from his throat as he stands up and physically hauls Katsuki back to his feet, those enigmatic eyes modestly cast aside as he squats down and quickly guides Katsuki’s pants down to the floor.

It’s weird. Normally, he’d be mortified to be manhandled like this- horrified at needing someone to dress him like an unruly toddler-

-But pride, so often his closest companion, is curiously absent in Shouto’s presence.

Because he’s shitfaced. He’s on a mission. He’s heartbroken and sad and finally has a rare opportunity to finally let these feelings out of him, and so he does, pointedly ignoring the odd intimacy of the moment as he reaches out and leans on Shouto’s shoulders with trembling hands.

“Am I gonna have to stand next to him on an altar?” He asks, obediently stepping into the clean joggers that Shouto holds at his ankles.

His throat tightens. His tone is full of terror.

“Am I gonna have to hold his babies?” He asks, aghast. “Stand there and watch him belong to someone else?”

Tensing tight but staying quiet, Shouto continues to dress him, pulling the fabric up his legs with trembling fingers. He doesn’t meet his eyes- doesn’t answer- and god, it burns him. It boils him.

Knowing somewhere deep down that he’s probably being too rough, but also far too drunk to really care, he suddenly reaches down and takes Shouto’s stupid, handsome face into his hands, pulling him up until they’re nearly nose to nose, his ruby eyes instantly shining with frightened tears as he croaks:

“ Is this the end, Sho? Will I die loving him?’

Shouto blinks. His breath stutters. His entire body goes stiff for a moment- two- 

-And then, seeing the sheer fright in his eyes, Shouto suddenly softens like butter in his palms, his expression going gentle as he reaches up and takes Katsuki’s ruddy cheeks into his hands, thumbs stroking soft, feather-light circles over the faded tear tracks.

“Oh, Katsuki.” He breathes, tender and sweet. “ No. You’re going to be fine .” 

It immediately soothes.

His voice, usually so flat and unaffected, is suddenly like caramel: smooth and sweet and so, so comforting- but still unconvinced (and super fucking wasted, holy shit ), Katsuki squints his eyes at him distrustfully and asks, “But how do you know ?”

Shouto’s features ease into a kind expression. His eyes crinkle.

“Because I know you .” He returns, placing his big hands over Katsuki’s and slowly guiding him back down to the bed. “You’re the strongest man I’ve ever met.” He offers warmly, bending down and physically tossing Katsuki’s feet onto the bed. “The bravest. The most capable.”

He reaches down, pulling the sheets over his body, full of conviction as he adds, “And you will be fine .” 

Katsuki blinks up at him blearily.

“Yeah?” He asks wetly, barely daring to hope.

Shouto sits down on the bed beside him with a soft puff of air. He nods his head.

“Yes.” He answers readily.

Katsuki relaxes, finally letting some of the tension out of his body as he sinks limply into the sheets.

Huh. It doesn’t change much, but it’s something.

Glancing up with bleary eyes, he aims for gratitude as he croaks, “Thanks, Sho.”

Shouto nods again, satisfied. And then, just when Katsuki thinks he’ll rise to his feet and take his leave, he does something unexpected. He stays. And more than that, he turns his head and looks at him. Not scrutinizing or judging, but a slow, steady sweep of eyes. A subtle press of lips. As if he’s seeing something intriguing. It’s strange.

But before Katsuki can say a word about it, Shouto turns away, letting out a slow, heavy exhale. His voice is soft, a quiet baritone rumble through the thick air between them.

“Hm.” He hums ruefully, giving him this tender look that’s almost pained . “It seems Izuku isn’t the only one who’s blind.” 

Katsuki blinks.

What does that mean?

It’s a harmless phrase, sure- said so casually- and yet, it rumbles across his skin. It tiptoes up his spine. And not understanding one little bit, Katsuki peers at him owlishly.

“Huh? Whatchu mean?” He asks.

Shouto suddenly stirs from it, blinking like he’d just woken up- almost like he’d forgotten that Katsuki could hear him. 

His cheeks suddenly flush pink. His eyes dart away.

Caught. He looks like he'd been caught.

“Nothing.” He answers quickly, rising to his feet and suddenly busying himself with Katsuki’s discarded clothes.

Katsuki frowns.

This is weird. He’s clearly hiding something.

Too curious to let it go, he makes himself sit up even as his head swims.

“No, what do you mean, Sho?” He asks again.

Shouto gently places the dirty clothes atop his hamper in a neat pile, pointedly not meeting his eye.

“It’s really nothing, Katsuki.” He returns coolly.

And again, it’s probably the booze, but Katsuki suddenly clamps down on it like a dog with a bone.

“No, it isn’t.” He insists tightly. “You don’t do ‘nothing.’” 

His mouth twists. His eyes go hard.

“You don’t say anything without a reason.” He reminds him. “Not you. So quit being so damn cryptic and just tell me what you’re thinking.”

And then, going for a low blow that he knows will strike true, he softly adds, “ Wasn’t I honest with you?”

Shouto goes as still as death, his back going straight and tall. A blue eye peeks over his broad shoulder in astonishment, scared, but also… intrigued.

“You really want to know?” He asks, breathless.

And hearing him like that, all soft and airy? It sends another stupid tingle up his spine- through his limbs. It’s an instinctual feeling, like a doe in a clearing that senses eyes on her back- that somehow knows she’s being hunted.

And yeah, weird - super fucking weird- but fuck , he’s Katsuki Bakugou. He’s not afraid- certainly not afraid of Shouto , and so he doubles down, his hands gripping tightly in his sheets as he nods his approval.

“Yeah. ‘Course.” He insists. “Tell me.”

Shouto gives him another slow, pondering look, clearly thinking through his options, and then, just when the anticipation begins to feel deadly, Shouto turns back to him.

“Alright.” He concedes.

In three large steps, he comes back to the bed, sitting down on the quilt beside him, looking askance as he begins his explanation. 

His hands are clasped together. His knee bounces.

And then, he speaks.

“I know you love Izuku.” He whispers gently. “I know you always have. I know you probably always will.” 

He closes his eyes and lets out a long, weary breath.

“And I know that everything seems… bleak right now.” 

He turns towards him, suddenly flushed with kindness and warmth, his pale skin seeming to almost glow in the dim light.

“But you are a wonderful person, Katsuki.” He declares. “You’re a top hero. Incredibly intelligent. Powerful. Brave.”

His eyes squint playfully. His mouth twitches.

“And despite your dogged attempts not to be, you’re very charming.”

It’s said so earnestly- like he really means every single word- and suddenly, Katsuki feels himself flushing at the unexpected compliment, his face steadily heating as he gruffly crosses his arms over his chest and mutters:

“Don’t butter me up.” 

He can feel the amusement rolling off of Shouto in waves- can hear the tiny, delicate snicker out of his mouth.

“Hm.” Shouto hums softly, those two-toned eyes sweeping downward. “Seriously, Katsuki.” He continues, “You have so much to give- to offer. And sadly, you pledged your heart to someone who doesn't see it.” 

His throat bobs. His mouth grimaces.

“We both did.” He amends.

Katsuki swallows hard. His stomach begins to twist again, almost squirming beneath the weight of that horrible truth. 

“But that doesn’t mean you should give up on love entirely.” Shouto offers, turning his eyes back to him. “If Izuku isn’t an option, then maybe you should try looking… outward.”

Katsuki squints at him, entirely too drunk to put any of it together.

“Whatchu mean?” He asks, words slurring.

Shouto gives him another look, oddly pained and yet, deeply affectionate all at once.

“What I mean is that you’ve been so single-mindedly focused on one thing- one person- one goal for so long that you’ve missed a lot of things around you.” He explains.

Offended at the accusation, Katsuki’s face instantly scrunches, his lower lip pouting out, arms crossing over his chest defensively.

“Have not. ” He mutters.

Shouto’s eyes are suddenly feline. Mischievous.

“Have so .” He retorts with a chuckle.

Katsuki frowns. 

Damn. He can’t really argue it.

Grumbling quietly under his breath, he keeps his gaze low, not really enjoying being called out like this (even if he does have a point)-

-But not giving him time to stew in it, Shouto instantly reaches out, those warm fingertips suddenly curling around his cheek, holding him in his palm.

Katsuki stiffens.

It’s warm. Intimate. So much so that he goes completely still at that first touch like a rabbit in a snare, his eyes blinking wildly because what?? He’s never- they’ve never- what is happening?!?

Unaware of his internal struggle or simply not caring, Shouto doesn’t back away. No, he presses closer , almost caressing Katsuki’s cheek in his palm as he sidles up and whispers:

“You devoted yourself to a dream. A goal. You dedicated yourself to it. But now, that goal has become… unattainable. So maybe this is your chance to open your eyes and take a broader look around you.” He offers. “Maybe this is your chance to see that there’s something more than the singular future you’d planned- to see what else the world has to offer you.”

His gaze lowers, silver and blue dragging down his face and fixing on his mouth.

“You might learn that you’ve been overlooking something important.” He murmurs, his voice dropping dangerously low. 

His hand tightens, the ever-present heat of his palm blooming against Katsuki’s clammy skin. 

“You might learn that there is room for someone else in your heart.” He explains with a small, wistful smile. “You might see that you’re capable of more than you think.”

Katsuki stares at him, utterly dumbfounded.

Shouto hadn’t activated his quirk, and yet, he’s frozen. He’s fucking frozen. He can’t move- can barely breathe under that heavy gaze- his warmth- his words.

Pinned and flushed and utterly unable to speak, he continues to gape at him dumbly, heat flooding into his cheeks as Shouto holds him fast.

“You may learn that there are others that care about you so dearly -,” Shouto breathes tenderly, thumb stroking tiny, soothing circles over his ruddy cheeks, “-others that would do just about anything for your happiness.”

Katsuki’s mouth bobs open and shut. His palms quietly pop. And most embarrassing of all, his throat makes a weak, squeaking sound of its own accord. 

And seeing it- hearing it- Shouto’s graceful mouth twists at the corners, everything about him smooth as butter and soft as cream. 

“You might learn that what you were looking for- what you’ve been longing for all this time- was always there.” He offers, drawing closer.  

His breath puffs hot and cold off of Katsuki’s lips, every word crisp and deliberate as he leans in, holds his eyes, and softly whispers:

“Right. Under. Your. Nose.”  

Katsuki gulps. His eyes go starry. His fingertips vibrate.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.

This is so fucking weird. They’re so close- they’re so fucking close and Shouto smells really good- unfairly good- and god, he’s so pretty and every word is like fingernails on his skin- like honey dripping over his head.

Terrified and thrilled all at once, he looks up again, almost drowning in the endless, shining depths of those stupid, two-toned eyes. 

They’ve never been like this- never so painfully close. He’s never heard Shouto sound like that, all rich and warm, and though he doesn’t mean to, his own voice comes out hoarse, almost ragged.

“Shouto.” He rasps, looking up helplessly.

Stars flicker in Shouto’s eyes, and then, his face cracks, and oh, he smiles . Fuck, he beams .

And then, just when Katsuki doesn’t think this can get any stranger, Shouto makes this sweet, rumbly sound and leans down, finally bridging the gap between them, each inch of space sending his breath rattling- sending his hair standing on end like lightning is about to strike- 

-When, suddenly, just shy of his forehead, Shouto abruptly stops, hums, and presses a single, warm kiss. Right between Katsuki’s eyebrows. 

It’s soft. Light as air. Deliciously warm and icy cold all at once. It sends a tingle down his spine. Makes his cheeks so hot that they almost burn.  

But as quickly as it begins, it ends.

Shouto releases him. He stands up. He smooths his clothes back into place primly.

And then, as if nothing’s amiss, he turns back and pulls the covers back over Katsuki’s chest, tucking him in- giving him a warm look and a friendly pat on the head.

“Give it some thought.” He urges amiably.

Katsuki opens his mouth, ready to ask what the fuck just happened , when suddenly, before he can say a word, Shouto is turning away from him, striding towards the door and clicking off the lamp, effectively bathing them both in darkness.

“Good night, Katsuki.” He bades gently. “Try to get some rest. I’ll text you in the morning.”

And then, in a blink, he’s gone, the door closing behind him.

Katsuki hears his footsteps retreat down the hallway. He hears the front door shut. Fuck, he swears he can even hear the ding of the elevator down the hall.

And when he’s sure that he’s really gone- that he’s truly, truly alone- he suddenly flops back down into bed, pulling the covers up over his burning cheeks until only his eyes are uncovered, his vision and head violently swimming as they peek over the hem of his sheets.

He looks up at the ceiling, watching it twist and swirl.

His heart hammers.

…What????

Lying there, wasted and confused, he suddenly remembers the heat of Shouto’s gaze- the comfort of his hands- god, the press of his lips, hot and cold all at once–

-And his stomach tosses. His head spins.  

What the fuck was that?!?!?