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Katsuki didn’t know what was in the stupid brownies Denki had brought to the party. He didn't even know who had made them—just that Denki and Hanta had been snickering over them in the kitchen like two gremlins, exchanging guilty little glances. He should’ve questioned it. Should’ve been suspicious.
But, in his defense, he was hungry .
And, well—maybe it was the exhaustion from the week’s hero work, the stress, the deep ache in his body that not even a thousand post-battle massages could fix—but for the first time in a long time, he’d let himself relax . The reunion had been fun. The old Class 1-A group was gathered in Eijiro’s penthouse, music thrumming through the speakers, drinks and snacks passed around in a never-ending cycle of nostalgia. It was nice.
Nice enough that when Hanta handed him a brownie with a knowing smirk, Katsuki had only raised a brow before biting in.
Then he had another.
Then Denki had shouted, “Yo, bro, slow down—” and Hanta had started laughing.
“Wait, wait, wait—does he know ?”
“Know what , you dumbasses?” Katsuki had grumbled through his mouthful.
They hadn’t answered. Just kept snickering to themselves like idiots before walking off to do god-knows-what.
The kitchen was quieter than the rest of the penthouse, tucked away from the main party where the music wasn’t blaring in his ears. He liked it in here. Less chaotic. Fewer people. Just him, the dim glow of the pendant lights over the counter, and a plate of damn good brownies.
He wasn't even thinking about it, just eating on autopilot, barely listening to Denki saying something about how rich they were. The brownies were good . Soft, chewy, a perfect balance of chocolate and whatever the hell else went into baking. They weren’t dry like the ones that damn extra Shoto had brought to their dorms years ago, the ones that had nearly cracked his teeth. These? These were elite.
Then he had another.
And another.
At some point, Mina walked by, cackling at something on her phone, and nudged him. "Damn, Blasty , I didn’t take you for a sweets guy."
"’M not," he muttered, licking a stray crumb off his thumb before reaching for another.
Mina gave him a look . "Uh-huh. Sure."
He waved her off, chewing methodically, letting his eyes sweep over the room. It was good to see everyone again. Life as a pro hero made it hard to catch up, so nights like these—where they weren’t chasing villains or dealing with paperwork—were rare. He let himself enjoy it, nodding along to whatever Eijiro and Ashido were talking about, reaching for one more brownie when—
The plate was empty.
Katsuki frowned, staring at the crumbs left behind.
Huh.
That was… a lot.
Whatever. It was just sugar. He could burn it off in the gym tomorrow.
With a shrug, he turned back to the conversation, feeling completely normal.
Maybe fifteen minutes passed. Maybe twenty. Katsuki wasn’t keeping track.
But then—
Something was off ...
Oh well.
For a while, he felt normal. Maybe a little full, maybe a little too relaxed against the cool marble counter, but he chalked that up to finally taking a damn break for once.
He frowned. Hadn’t he just blinked? Why did it feel like he’d closed his eyes for an hour?
Katsuki straightened, scanning the kitchen like the answers were written on the damn walls. The lights were still warm, the marble was still cold. He glanced at the digital clock on the stove. It read 10:32 PM .
Then he blinked.
And it was 10:47 PM .
What the fuck .
That wasn’t right. That wasn’t right at all. Katsuki whipped around, squinting at the living room. The party was still going—same music, same people—but had they always been standing like that? Had Mina always been holding her phone? Had Ei’s drink always been that empty?
Wait. No. Hold on.
The clock was lying. It had to be lying.
Katsuki turned back, laser-focused on the glowing red numbers, determined to catch them in the act. He wasn’t gonna blink this time. He wasn’t gonna move, wasn’t gonna look away, wasn’t—
10:52 PM.
…Huh.
Weird.
Maybe he was more exhausted than he thought. Whatever. Didn’t matter.
Then, something shifted.
It started in his chest, a slow, creeping warmth, like standing under direct sunlight. Nice, at first. Pleasant. Then deeper, softer, cushiony.
His skin tingled.
The music from the party was muffled through the walls, but the bass—deep, steady—felt like it was inside of him. His fingers curled against the counter. His heartbeat matched the song.
Wait.
What?
Katsuki’s brows furrowed. He lifted a hand, staring at his fingers like they weren’t attached to his body. They looked normal. Moved normal. But they felt… longer? Lighter ? His skin buzzed with something restless, something thick and strange , like the air was pressing down on him in the gentlest way possible.
A slow blink.
The kitchen was— so fluffy. The warm lighting blurred at the edges, like everything had been wrapped in cotton. The counter under his hands was cool, smooth, and—oh.
Oh, that was nice .
Katsuki pressed his palm against it. Then his cheek. The marble was so cold, and his skin was so warm , and that contrast was amazing . He let out a slow, satisfied breath through his nose, the kind he only ever made after sinking into a hot bath or finishing a grueling workout.
Wait.
Wait, wait , wait .
Something was wrong .
…Oh well.
He was too cozy to care.
Katsuki sighed, shifting so more of his weight pressed against the counter. He melted into it, heavy and boneless, fingers splayed over the marble like it was the only thing tethering him to the ground. His thoughts drifted, slow and syrupy, like they had all the time in the world.
The kitchen was pleasant . Quiet. Not loud and crowded like the living room. He liked it in here. The lights were warm, the counter was cool, and his body felt so good . Like he was floating. Like the air was made of something softer, something sweeter, like—
He blinked.
Oh. The music was inside him.
It was in his chest, in his bones , thrumming along with his heartbeat. The bass pulsed deep, resonant, like an old friend wrapping around his ribs. He exhaled, listening.
Had the music always been this good?
His fingers curled against the counter, dragging slightly, and—oh.
That felt nice , too.
Katsuki did it again, just to see. The way his fingertips glided against the smooth surface, the way the sensation bloomed up his fingers—
He let out a quiet, pleased hum.
Wait.
Wait.
What was he doing again?
…Didn’t matter.
He nuzzled against the counter.
He was fine .
Denki and Hanta had left him for all of thirty minutes .
Thirty minutes. Three - Zero.
And when they returned, Katsuki was standing completely still by the empty plate of brownies, staring at his own hands like they held the secrets of the universe.
Hanta slowed to a stop, exchanging a look with Denki.
“…Bro?”
Katsuki gasped.
Not a normal gasp. Not an angry gasp. A full-body inhale of pure, unfiltered wonder .
“ Guys ,” he whispered, eyes wide.
They waited.
“My fingers are glowing .”
Denki slapped a hand over his mouth.
Hanta bit his knuckle.
Katsuki turned his hands over, inspecting his hangs with intense scrutiny. His nails were painted neon orange—Eijiro had convinced him a while ago, something about it being manly—but now, in the dim party lighting, they shone . They caught the glow of the LED strips lining the ceiling, reflecting back.
Katsuki wiggled his fingers.
Oh.
Oh, that was sick .
He did it again, slower this time. The color shifted ever so slightly with the movement, a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow, and holy shit . Had his fingers always done that? Had he just never noticed ?
He was so entranced that he didn’t even see Hanta and Denki approaching—so when he finally looked up and— BAM —they were just there, his entire brain short-circuited.
He forgot how to breathe. He forgot how to exist.
His mouth fell open.
He pointed at them dramatically. “You—”
They raised their brows.
Katsuki narrowed his eyes, taking a slow, wobbly step forward.
“You guys,” he continued suspiciously, “ are magicians .”
Hanta blinked. “What?”
“You just appeared,” Katsuki accused. “Like—like abracacabra —”
Denki’s entire body vibrated as he tried not to laugh.
“Abraca—?” Hanta prompted.
“ Abracadra —”
“Oh my god.”
Katsuki scowled, dragging a hand down his face. “Abra-ca-dabra,” he enunciated slowly. Then he gasped again. “Wait. Wait, that’s a magic word. You guys are doing magic—”
Denki doubled over. “Oh my god.”
“We didn’t do anything, dude,” Hanta wheezed, trying to hold himself together. “We just walked in.”
“That’s what you want me to think.” Katsuki’s expression turned dead serious. He jabbed a finger at them. “But I see the truth now.”
Denki wiped at his eyes, breathless. “What truth?”
Katsuki leaned in, lowering his voice.
“…You guys can teleport.”
Hanta lost it.
Denki had to physically brace himself against the counter, wheezing so hard he nearly collapsed. Hanta wasn’t faring any better, his hands on his knees, shoulders shaking.
Katsuki just squinted at them, deeply unimpressed. “Why the fuck are you laughing?”
Denki choked. “Because—bro—” He wiped at his eyes, breathless. “Because you—”
“Because you think we’re fucking teleporting ,” Hanta managed, voice strangled.
Katsuki scowled. “I know you are.” He jabbed a finger at Denki’s chest. “You— you —zipped from the door to right here in, like , point-two seconds .”
Denki blinked, looking between where he stood now and where the door was, a solid ten feet away. “Bro, I walked.”
“No, you fucking didn’t .” Katsuki’s eyes were wild, darting back and forth like he was doing complex mental gymnastics. “One second you were there, then— BAM —” he clapped his hands, nearly knocking over an empty beer bottle, “you were here.”
Denki was dying. “Oh my god—”
Katsuki gasped again, clutching the counter dramatically. “Wait. Wait . I know what’s happening.”
Hanta wiped tears from his eyes. “Oh, please. Enlighten us.”
Katsuki narrowed his eyes, deadly serious. “Time skips.”
Hanta’s entire body convulsed. “What?”
Denki fell to the floor.
Katsuki pointed at the stove clock. “I saw it fucking change, man. One second it’s 10:32, next thing I know, it’s 10:47. You guys glitched over here because of a time skip .”
Denki, sprawled out on the kitchen tiles, weakly raised a hand. “Dude.” His voice was so close to breaking. “You’re high as hell.”
Katsuki’s face. The absolute offense. His whole body reeled back like Denki had just slapped him with a live fish.
“Excuse me?”
Denki could barely breathe. “Dude, you ate, like, twelve brownies.”
“…Yeah?”
“Denks,” Hanta whispered, wiping his face, “he doesn’t know.”
Katsuki pouted. “Know what ?”
Denki rolled onto his stomach, pounding his fist against the floor. “Holy shit —”
Hanta, still dying, clapped a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. “Buddy,” he started, voice trembling, “do you feel kinda weird right now?”
“No,” Katsuki snapped, lying through his teeth.
Denki wheezed into the tiles.
Hanta smirked. “Really? Really ? So it’s totally normal for you to think we can teleport and that time is skipping?”
Katsuki opened his mouth. Shut it. Blinked.
Then, slowly as hell, he turned his hands over again, inspecting his fingers with the intensity of someone uncovering an ancient secret. Katsuki was once again caught in the trap of his glorious nails. The orange polish caught the warm kitchen light once more, shimmering like embers, and—
Oh.
Oh, that was so sick .
Katsuki flexed his fingers, completely mesmerized. “Holy shit.”
Denki, still on the floor, was practically kicking his feet.
Hanta grinned. “Whatcha lookin’ at there, pal?”
Katsuki’s pupils blew wide. “ I have the hands of a god .”
Hanta lost it all over again.
Katsuki wiggled his fingers, enthralled. “They’re, like. fire .”
“They’re just painted, man,” Denki sobbed, clutching his stomach. “That’s just nail polish.”
Katsuki shook his head, eyes still locked on his own hands. “No. No, this is something else. This is godly. This is— this is power .”
Hanta wiped at his eyes. “Okay, okay, let’s test this power. What do you think you can do?”
Katsuki frowned deeply, thinking very hard. “…Summon fire…duh”
“…Bro.”
“No, listen .” Katsuki wiggled his fingers again, fully convinced he was about to tap into some latent superhuman ability. “If I just—hold on—” He took a deep breath, braced himself, and then—
Jazz hands.
Nothing happened.
Denki howled.
Katsuki blinked. Stared at his hands. Slowly turned them over, utterly perplexed. “Huh.”
Hanta clapped his back. “Welp. Maybe next time, bud.”
Katsuki exhaled heavily, nodding like he’d just had an intense spiritual experience. “Yeah.” He drummed his fingers against the counter. “Yeah, maybe next time.”
Denki was still gasping for air on the floor.
Hanta wiped his face, still grinning. “Alright, my guy, let’s get you some water before you start challenging the fridge to a duel.”
Katsuki scowled. “Why the fuck would I—” He turned, caught sight of the fridge, and narrowed his eyes.
A tense silence.
Denki lost his shit all over again.
Hanta grabbed him by the arm. “Nope. No. No fights with the fridge.”
Katsuki huffed. “Fine.” He let himself be dragged to the sink, glancing over his shoulder just in case the fridge tried something.
Hanta and Denki exchanged a victorious look.
Hanta filled a glass with water and handed it to Katsuki, still grinning. “Alright, bud, drink up.”
Katsuki accepted it slowly , as if he were receiving an ancient relic, brows furrowed in intense concentration. Then, in a voice so serious it could’ve been a movie trailer monologue, he started narrating.
“His body felt light… like he could liquify right into the floor…”
Hanta blinked. Denki snapped his head up from where he was still sprawled on the kitchen floor, eyes wide with delight.
Katsuki, oblivious, continued staring at his glass, completely engrossed.
“But also—heavy. Deeply rooted. Like a tree with no intention of moving.”
Denki covered his mouth, his whole body vibrating with suppressed laughter.
Hanta leaned in, riveted . “Dude, what are you doing?”
Katsuki lifted his gaze, eyes shining with raw intensity. “I’m narrating.”
“…Why?”
Katsuki scoffed, looking almost offended. “Because it’s happening .” He gestured vaguely at himself, then at the drink. “I have to .”
Denki choked, crawling closer like a little gremlin. “Please— please keep going.”
Katsuki nodded solemnly. Took a slow, deep breath.
Then, staring at the condensation on the glass, he whispered:
“He looked down at his drink… squinting at the condensation on the glass… It was fascinating.”
Hanta slapped a hand over his mouth, barely holding it together.
Katsuki stared , watching the tiny beads of water trickle down with the focus of a man unraveling the mysteries of the universe. He turned the glass slightly, watching the light hit it differently. His lips parted slightly in awe.
“Every tiny bead of water sliding down the glass felt… meaningful.”
Denki collapsed, wheezing.
Hanta had to walk away for a second, gripping the counter, his entire body shaking.
Katsuki, however, was unbothered. He looked up at them both, blinking slow, dazed.
“…It is meaningful,” he muttered, voice soft, reverent.
Denki was gone.
Hanta wheezed, coming back. “Bro, I’m—dude, I’m losing my mind —”
Katsuki turned his glass slightly again, watching another bead of condensation roll down. Then, with utmost gravity, he kept going.
“His fingers curled around the glass, the cold pressing against his skin, grounding him in this moment—this singular, fragile moment.”
Denki screamed into his hands.
Hanta wiped tears from his eyes. “You’re—you’re giving main character energy right now, dude.”
Katsuki narrowed his eyes slightly, gears turning in his dazed brain. “…I am the main character.”
“Oh my god—”
Katsuki took a deep breath. Lifted the glass. Slowly brought it to his lips.
The anticipation killed Denki.
Then, finally, finally , Katsuki took a sip.
And whispered:
“…And the water—was crisp.”
Denki screamed. Hanta dropped to his knees.
This was the greatest night of their entire lives.
Katsuki stared down at his now half-empty glass, eyes filled with something deep and unreadable. Then, he swirled the water like it was expensive whiskey, watching how the liquid sloshed against the sides.
His gaze lifted to Hanta and Denki, hazy but intense. “I just drank the ocean.”
Denki died.
Hanta was hunched over the counter, wheezing, actually hitting the surface with his palm because he couldn’t breathe.
Katsuki took another sip, smacked his lips, then nodded to himself. “Yeah. Tastes ancient.”
Denki collapsed onto his back, clutching his stomach, tears in his eyes. Hanta had to turn away, gripping the sink for dear life.
Katsuki? Katsuki was unbothered. He swirled the water again, considering something serious. Then, with deep, profound realization, he looked up.
“I could be water.”
Hanta choked. “Wh—what??”
Katsuki nodded sagely, like he’d just uncovered a universal truth. “Yeah. If I, like… stop being bones ‘n’ shit. Just flow, y’know?” He made a vague wave-like motion with his hand. “ Be fluid.”
Denki curled into a ball, gasping for air.
Hanta couldn’t. “Dude. Dude, you are—” He had to pause to breathe, hand on his chest. “You are so gone right now.”
Katsuki blinked at him, then turned his head slightly.
Then slightly more.
Then more , his entire upper body tilting with the motion like a slow-moving doll.
Denki sat up just in time to witness this. His eyes went wide. “Bro, what the fuck are you doing—”
Katsuki, still tilted at an unnatural angle: “…I think I’m melting.”
That was it. Denki collapsed again.
Hanta was pounding his fist against the counter, actually crying . “Holy shit, bro, this is—this is—” He cut himself off with a choked laugh, turning away for just a second—
And when he looked back—
Katsuki was gone .
Hanta blinked.
Denki was still recovering on the floor, so he didn’t notice at first.
Hanta whipped his head around. “Wait. Wait .”
Denki sat up, still giggling. “Wh—what?”
“Katsuki.” Hanta gestured at the empty space where their high-as-hell friend had been standing. “ He’s gone! ”
Denki blinked. Then slowly— slowly —he turned his head, looking at where Katsuki had definitely been existing a second ago.
“…Oh shit.”
Both of them shot to their feet, frantically searching the kitchen.
“Katsuki??” Hanta called, opening the pantry. Nothing. He checked behind the fridge. Also nothing.
Denki sprinted to the door, flung it open, peered into the hallway—no sign of him.
“Oh my god,” Denki said, voice rising. “We lost him.”
Hanta ran a hand through his hair. “We didn’t lose him. He just—he just melted somewhere else.”
Denki grabbed his shoulders. “Hanta. He’s high as balls.”
Hanta grabbed his shoulders. “I know. ”
They stared at each other for a long second, pure panic setting in.
Then, without another word, they booked it out of the kitchen.
When they found Eijiro and Hitoshi in the living room, they were out of breath.
Eijiro looked up, blinking. “Uh—yo?”
Hanta braced his hands on his knees. Denki, still slightly wheezing, pointed at them wildly.
“Look out for a high-as-fuck Katsuki,” Denki gasped.
Hitoshi frowned. “...Why?”
Hanta straightened up. His voice was solemn, grave.
“Because he disappeared .”
Somehow, Katsuki had ended up outside on the balcony, staring at the city like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. He had no idea how long he’d been out there, but then—
“Uh… Babe?”
Katsuki turned slowly. And wow. Whoa .
Hitoshi and Shoto stood in the doorway, looking at him.
But here’s the thing—he had never really looked at them before.
Hitoshi’s hair was purple. Purple .
And Shoto’s hair? Half red, half white .
Katsuki gasped.
“Holy shit ,” he whispered.
Hitoshi blinked. “You okay?”
Katsuki pointed at his head. “Your hair’s purple.”
“…Yeah?”
“No, like. Purple purple .” Katsuki squinted, stepping closer. He tilted his head one way, then the other, as if the color might change if he looked at it from a different angle. “It’s—how is it so purple?”
Hitoshi raised an eyebrow. “Genetics?”
Katsuki ignored him. His fingers itched to touch it. It looked so… soft . Like a cloud. Like the kind of thing you could sink into.
Then he turned to Shoto.
“Your hair’s red and white.”
Shoto looked mildly amused. “That’s correct.”
“Red. And white.” Katsuki pointed at him accusingly. “You’re a goddamn rainbow .”
“That’s not what a rainbow is.”
“ Yes, it is .” Katsuki crossed his arms, huffing. “A small rainbow.” He reached out suddenly, touching Shoto’s hair before he could stop himself. And—holy shit.
It was so soft.
Like silk. Like magic. It felt different on each side—one slightly coarser, the other smooth as air.
Katsuki made a happy noise. A deep, rumbling purr of satisfaction.
Hitoshi and Shoto exchanged a glance.
“Is he purring ?” Hitoshi asked.
“I think so.”
Katsuki didn’t care. He was already reaching for Hitoshi’s head, fingers threading into the mess of purple strands.
And oh.
Oh .
It was even softer than he imagined. Like petting a fluffy cat. Like stroking a dream. His fingers curled, running through it again, reveling in the way it moved.
Hitoshi chuckled. “He’s out of it.”
Then—suddenly—Katsuki froze.
His eyes went wide. His bottom lip trembled.
Hitoshi tensed. “Wait. Katsuki?”
Katsuki inhaled sharply. “You guys are so soft ,” he whispered.
Shoto frowned. “Uh—”
“And so pretty ,” Katsuki continued, voice wobbly. His hands were still buried in their hair, but his entire expression had collapsed. His red-rimmed eyes darted between them in wonder, and then—
Then he sobbed .
Like, full-on, choked-up, teary-eyed crying.
“Crap,” Hitoshi muttered. “We broke him.”
“I knew it,” Katsuki gasped between hiccups. “I knew you guys were a rainbow, but I didn’t know you were this rainbow-y—”
Shoto placed a careful hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. “You’re okay.”
“I’m not okay,” Katsuki sniffled. “I wanna live in your hair.”
Hitoshi let out a slow exhale, pressing his fingers into his temples. “Okay. Okay. We need to get you more water.”
“I love you guys,” Katsuki mumbled dramatically. “You’re like—like magic clouds .” He clung to them, burying his face against Shoto’s shoulder. “Your hair smells so good.”
“Alright,” Hitoshi said, trying to guide Katsuki inside while Shoto helped, “let’s get you somewhere safe before you start crying over textures again.”
“I can’t help it !” Katsuki whined. “Everything feels like love.”
Shoto hummed. “This is nice. You should get high more often.”
Katsuki sniffled while nodding in agreement. “I love you guys.”
Hitoshi chuckled. “We know, baby.”
Hitoshi sighed, long and suffering, as Katsuki continued weeping into his shoulder, hands still clutching at their hair like his life depended on it.
“I told you we shouldn’t have left him alone with Denki and Hanta,” Hitoshi muttered to Shoto.
Katsuki sniffled, pressing his face against Hitoshi’s collarbone. “You guys smell good, too,” he mumbled, voice thick.
Shoto, completely unfazed, just tilted his head. “What do we smell like?”
Katsuki took another deep inhale, eyes fluttering shut. “Hito smells like—like nighttime.” His brows furrowed as he tried to focus. “Like— deep nighttime . Where it’s dark but warm and safe.”
Shoto hummed, nodding along. “Interesting.”
Hitoshi rolled his eyes fondly, but there was the tiniest hint of pink dusting his ears.
Then Katsuki turned his red-rimmed, teary-eyed gaze onto Shoto. He blinked a few times, as if gathering his thoughts.
Shoto waited, patient.
Finally, Katsuki spoke.
“You smell like—like a really good fridge .”
Hitoshi paused then cackled .
Shoto blinked. “…A fridge?”
Katsuki nodded, sniffling. “Yeah. Like—the good kind. The kind that’s always stocked. But not, like, with just anything. With fancy stuff. Like expensive cheese and, like, imported water ‘n’ shit.” His hands squeezed Shoto’s hair, still visibly emotional. “I love that. ”
Hitoshi had to turn away, gripping the balcony railing, because he was actually about to cry-laugh emoji .
Shoto, on the other hand, looked oddly touched. “That’s a very kind thing to say.”
Katsuki nodded solemnly. “It is.”
Then, out of nowhere, he gasped. His head snapped up, eyes wild .
“Oh shit.”
Hitoshi immediately tensed. “What?”
Katsuki’s pupils dilated. He gripped their shoulders.
“…What if I ate your hair?”
Shoto hummed, considering it.
Hitoshi physically recoiled . “No.”
But it was too late. Katsuki was already leaning in .
“Kats!” Hitoshi yelped, hands flying up to hold him back. “ Stop .”
“I have to,” Katsuki insisted, straining against him. “It looks so yummy—”
Hitoshi fought to keep him at arm’s length, glancing at Shoto in mild desperation. “Help me.”
Shoto took a moment. Then he sighed, stepping in.
“Katsuki,” he said, voice calm, firm. “You don’t need to eat our hair.”
Katsuki blinked up at him. Then he frowned. “I do , though.”
“No,” Shoto said gently, pressing a cool hand against his forehead, keeping him steady. “You don’t.”
Katsuki’s face crumpled.
“Oh, no—”
Katsuki sniffled. “But you guys are so— so pretty —”
“We know,” Hitoshi sighed, patting his back. “We know.”
Katsuki hiccuped. His grip on them tightened. “I love you guys so much,” he croaked.
Shoto smiled softly. “We love you too.”
“You guys are like my own personal miracle. Like—like my favorite explosion but squishy .”
Katsuki sucked in a deep breath, nodded firmly—
Then swooned in their arms.
Hitoshi barely had time to react before Katsuki slumped forward, dead weight in their arms.
“ Oh, hell— ” Hitoshi staggered, grabbing his waist as Shoto smoothly caught his shoulders.
Katsuki’s head lolled, resting against Hitoshi’s chest, and he sighed like a woman in love. “You guys are like… like…” He trailed off, blinking up at them, trying to grasp the words floating around in his brain.
Shoto and Hitoshi stared down at him expectantly.
Katsuki gasped, eyes lighting up like he had just discovered the meaning of life. “Like… expensive furniture .”
Hitoshi paused. “What?”
“Like—the kind you see in fancy stores,” Katsuki continued, voice breathless with reverence. “The kind you can’t sit on ‘cause you know it costs more than your apartment. The kind that looks so perfect and pristine and you ache just looking at it—”
Shoto tilted his head. “You think we look like furniture?”
“Not just any furniture,” Katsuki whispered, gripping his shirt. “The best furniture. The fluffiest .” He turned to Hitoshi suddenly, eyes shining. “You’re like a big-ass, oversized, plush armchair that swallows you whole when you sit in it. Like you could sink into it and never leave.”
Hitoshi blinked.
Shoto hummed. “That’s accurate.”
Katsuki nodded firmly. Then he turned to Shoto. “And you—” His gaze grew intense . “You’re like a modern art couch.”
Shoto blinked. “A what?”
“You know,” Katsuki said, waving a hand. “Like those ridiculously cool-looking couches that don’t even look like couches. The ones made outta, like, smooth leather or some fancy imported material. The kind that makes minimalist millionaires gasp. But when you actually sit on it, it’s somehow stupidly comfortable even though it shouldn’t be.”
Shoto considered this. “I think that might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
Hitoshi was shaking with suppressed laughter. “I hate how much sense that makes.”
Katsuki nodded again, satisfied. “Because it’s true .”
Then—suddenly—his eyes widened. His head snapped up, staring at them in pure horror .
“Oh my god.”
Hitoshi tensed. “What?”
Katsuki looked between them, wild-eyed. “I’m— I’m the ugly chair .”
Silence.
Shoto blinked. “What?”
“You know ,” Katsuki groaned, gripping his own hair. “Every couch set’s got an ugly chair . The one that technically matches but also doesn’t . The one you shove in a corner ‘cause it ruins the whole vibe —”
Hitoshi wheezed.
Shoto frowned. “I don’t think you’re an ugly chair.”
“I am ,” Katsuki lamented. “I don’t fit the aesthetic.”
“You absolutely do,” Hitoshi choked out. “You’re like—the super fancy, overpriced lounge chair people fight over.”
Katsuki’s lower lip trembled. “Really?”
Shoto nodded. “Yes.”
“Yeah, baby. You’re like—a stupidly expensive, designer statement chair. The one that’s shockingly comfy even though it looks like an abstract sculpture.” Hitoshi reassured.
Katsuki gasped. His hands clutched at his chest, like he’d just been cured by their words.
Then—suddenly—he lunged at them, wrapping his arms tightly around both their waists, burying his face against their stomachs.
“I love you guys,” he mumbled into their shirts.
Shoto smiled softly, running a hand through Katsuki’s hair. “We love you too.”
Katsuki squeezed tighter, like a particularly clingy cat. “I can’t believe how much I love you guys. It’s stupid .”
Hitoshi chuckled, patting his back. “It’s okay, baby.”
Katsuki shook his head furiously. “ No, it’s not . It’s so much love . Like—like all of Asia.” He paused. “No. Like—like a waterfall made of marshmallows . But the good marshmallows. Like the ones you only get from, like, specialty bakeries. And they’re so sweet and munchy and I just wanna roll in them—”
Hitoshi and Shoto exchanged a look.
“He’s so high,” Hitoshi murmured, amused.
“Very,” Shoto agreed.
Katsuki sniffled, still gripping them. “I love you guys so much, I wanna—wanna fold you up and put you in my pocket .”
Shoto hummed. “That would be difficult.”
“I know ,” Katsuki groaned dramatically. “You’re too tall .” He sniffed again. “But if I could, I would. And I’d take you everywhere .”
Hitoshi bit back a grin. “That’s sweet, babe.”
Katsuki nuzzled into his stomach, practically purring.
Shoto and Hitoshi let him cling, gently stroking his back, waiting for him to calm down.
After a long pause—
Katsuki gasped again, snapping his head up, looking horrified.
“Oh shit .”
Hitoshi tensed. “What now?”
Katsuki stared at them in pure panic. “What if—” His breath hitched. “What if you guys are actually hallucinations? ”
Shoto blinked. “We’re not.”
“But what if ?” Katsuki whispered, eyes huge.
Hitoshi raised a brow. “Okay. You need water.”
“I need answers ,” Katsuki corrected.
Shoto tilted his head. “If we were hallucinations, could we do this?” He leaned in and pressed a slow, soft kiss to Katsuki’s forehead.
Katsuki froze.
Then he leaned in, limbs going limp, tears glittered his lashes again.
“Oh my god,” he sobbed, latching onto Shoto’s shirt. “You’re real .”
Hitoshi sighed, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “Yeah, baby. We’re real.”
Katsuki sniffled dramatically. “I’m so lucky .”
Shoto hummed. “You are.”
Katsuki wailed.
Katsuki collapsed into their arms like a dying man, limbs draped over them as though he were a maiden from some tragic romance.
" Oh , my loves,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion, his fingers clinging desperately to their shirts. "My heart— it bursts, it shatters, it erupts like a thousand supernovas upon gazing upon your ethereal visages—”
Hitoshi and Shoto exchanged a glance.
“He’s getting worse,” Hitoshi muttered, barely holding back a laugh.
Shoto nodded. “Much worse.”
Katsuki ignored them. He was too busy feeling . His heart was an open wound, bleeding devotion , spilling over like a golden chalice too full of divine nectar .
He gripped Hitoshi’s arm like he was holding onto the very fabric of the universe. “Hi’oshi, dearest, darlingest , you are—you are the midnight sky itself, an endless abyss of mystery and allure, and I—” He let out a choked sob. “I long to be the weary traveler lost in your depths, forever wandering your celestial embrace.”
Hitoshi wheezed, covering his mouth with his free hand.
Shoto, perfectly composed, raised an eyebrow. “And me?”
Katsuki spun dramatically toward him, eyes wet with feeling, trembling as if the sheer magnitude of his love might physically consume him.
“Shoto,” he whispered, reverent, his fingers coming up to cradle his face like a priceless artifact. “Sho sho, you are the tall glass of water upon which my burning soul is soothed. The sacred flame that thaws the frozen tundra of my tormented heart. You are— oh , you are the forbidden fruit, the golden apple of the gods, the—” His breath hitched. His hands clenched into fists.
“You’re a perfectly balanced egg.”
Silence.
Hitoshi blinked. “Come again?”
Katsuki swayed, overcome with the weight of his own declaration. "A perfectly balanced egg, I say ! Firm of shell, yet tender within. A being of opposites, of duality , of harmonious equilibrium. You are—you are fragile, yet unyielding, soft, yet unyielding, a masterpiece of divine culinary architecture—”
Shoto looked genuinely touched. “That might be the best compliment I’ve ever received.”
Katsuki sobbed.
He flung himself backward, hands gripping at his chest like he was trying to physically hold his feelings in.
“ What cruel fate is this , that I, a mere mortal, should be blessed—nay, cursed —with a love so vast, so all-encompassing, that it renders me weak, trembling, a speck upon the tides of my own overwhelming devotion ?!”
“Alright,” Hitoshi wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. “He’s gone full Shakespeare.”
Katsuki collapsed into his arms again. "Toshi!!" he cried, gripping his shirt. "My steadfast anchor in this storm of emotion! Were it not for you, I would be cast adrift, a mere leaf upon the cruel and uncaring winds of the universe—”
Hitoshi was crying from laughter now.
Shoto, ever calm, gently patted Katsuki’s back. “Breathe, love.”
“I can’t!” Katsuki wailed, burying his face into Shoto’s shoulder. “ I love you both so much it hurts!”
Hitoshi rubbed circles on his back, still chuckling. “We love you too, babe.”
Katsuki hiccupped, eyes shining as he looked between them again.
“My two stars,” he whispered, voice raw. “My two brilliant, blinding lights in the abyss.”
Shoto hummed. “That’s a nice one.”
Katsuki grabbed both their hands, squeezing them like a man making an oath .
“If you were both ever taken from me—” His breath shuddered, his lip trembled. “I—I would wither ! I would crumble to dust, a castle of sand, swept away by the tides of despair. I would become but a husk, a shadow of my former radiance! I would—I would—”
He paused.
His head tilted.
Then, without warning—
Katsuki inhaled sharply.
“Oh my god.”
Hitoshi tensed. “What is it?”
Katsuki stared at them, wide-eyed, as though they had just been born anew in front of him. His breath quickened, his grip tightened.
“You guys are—” He swallowed thickly, voice hoarse with wonder.
“— so fucking pretty .”
Shoto and Hitoshi both snorted at the same time.
Katsuki’s face crumpled again. His chest heaved. His shoulders shook.
And then—
Then he sobbed.
Again.
“So pretty,” he hiccupped, clutching at them like they might vanish if he let go. “So—so ridiculously pretty— it’s not fair —”
Hitoshi wiped at his eyes, laughing too hard to function.
Katsuki only wailed louder. “ You don’t understand ! I wanna—I wanna frame you both and hang you on my wall —”
“You want us to be paintings?” Shoto asked.
Katsuki nodded furiously. “Yes, but—but alive . Living paintings. Like—like a moving mural of divine perfection —”
Hitoshi collapsed into Shoto’s shoulder, wheezing.
Katsuki sniffled again. His hands shook as he cupped both their faces, looking between them with nothing short of devotional agony.
“My loves,” he whispered. “My everything .”
Shoto smiled. “Yes, dear?”
Katsuki sniffled, gazing between them, his pupils huge, his face reverent—
He froze.
His eyes darted around, expression shifting from starry-eyed love to sharp, sudden panic .
“…I have to go.”
Hitoshi wiped at his face, still chuckling. “Go where?”
But Katsuki didn’t answer.
He slipped.
Like—literally. He just sort of… slithered out of their grasp, an evasive little eel, moving too fast for two exhausted boyfriends to react.
One moment, he was there.
The next—
Gone.
A beat of silence.
Shoto and Hitoshi blinked at each other.
“…Did we just lose him?” Hitoshi asked.
Shoto sighed. “Yes.”
Hitoshi groaned, rubbing his temples. “We have to find him before he, like, climbs into a fountain or something.”
Shoto nodded. “Or tries to write us love poems in his own blood.”
They both shuddered.
A distant, echoing voice.
Loud.
Passionate.
Absolutely deranged.
“ HOW DARE YOU HUMANS NOT APPRECIATE MY BOYFRIENDS TO THEIR FULL CAPACITY?! ”
Hitoshi and Shoto stopped dead in the hallway.
“…Oh, found him,” Hitoshi muttered.
Then— CRASH . Followed by startled yelps, something clattering , and the unmistakable laugh of Mina Ashido.
The door swung open , revealing a wide-eyed Eijiro, looking both bewildered and a little afraid.
“Oh, thank God ,” he said, grabbing Shoto and Hitoshi by their wrists and yanking them inside. “Get him down before he kills himself.”
Shoto and Hitoshi blinked.
And then they saw him.
Suspended from the ceiling light fixture, dangling like some kind of deranged gargoyle, was their boyfriend.
And he was—
Well.
He was swinging .
Like a jungle animal.
Like Tarzan, but with the emotional stability of a Victorian woman on the verge of fainting.
From his upside-down perch, Katsuki pointed dramatically at the two who had just walked in.
“THESE MEN,” he bellowed, voice filled with righteous fury, “ARE ANGELS AMONG MORTALS. YOU ALL WALK THIS EARTH, BLIND , UNWORTHY , WHILE I—” He smacked his hand against his chest, eyes wild, “—I HAVE BEEN BLESSED WITH THEIR EVERLASTING LOVE.”
Hitoshi stared for a long moment, then exhaled through his nose. “We’ve got to get him down.”
Shoto nodded solemnly.
Neither of them moved.
Because, really—how did one go about safely extracting a fully grown, emotionally compromised pro hero from a chandelier ?
Mina and Ochako were screaming in joy, practically vibrating with excitement.
“THIS IS THE BEST NIGHT OF MY LIFE,” Mina howled, clutching her phone like it was a winning lottery ticket.
Ochako, tears in her eyes, pointed up at Katsuki with both hands. “SOMEONE—SOMEONE MAKE SURE THIS GETS DOCUMENTED .”
Hanta and Denki were gone , completely flattened on the floor.
“B-Bro,” Denki gasped between hiccups, wiping tears from his eyes. “You—you’re actually insane —”
Hanta, shaking from barely-contained hysteria, had his phone locked on Katsuki. “I—I’m recording a murder confession at this point—there’s no way this is legal.”
Ojiro blinked slowly, glanced down at his drink, then took a measured sip—probably debating whether he was drunk or hallucinating.
Kyoka squinted up at the chandelier, brows furrowed. “How the hell is that thing holding his weight?”
Shouji, standing beside her, gave a slow nod. “That’s actually impressive.”
Tenya, looking absolutely horrified , marched forward and shoved his glasses up his nose with the force of a man on a mission. “KATSUKI, THAT IS NOT A STRUCTURALLY SOUND SURFACE! YOU COULD FALL !”
Katsuki, completely ignoring him , swung slightly to the left, his wild, glassy eyes scanning the room.
And then—
They locked onto Izuku.
Katsuki’s entire body stilled, while still swinging.
For a brief moment, the room held its breath.
Then—
Katsuki gasped.
Not a normal gasp. A sharp, shaken, emotionally unhinged gasp, like he had just discovered the meaning of life in the middle of a 7-Eleven parking lot .
“ Zuzu ,” he breathed, voice filled with something akin to awe .
Izuku, whose brain was not processing what he was seeing, could only blink.
“…Kacchan?”
Katsuki sniffled.
Then his face crumpled .
“Oh fuck , Izuku Deku Zuzu Kuku,” he whimpered, clutching at his chest like he was about to keel over. “You’re so freckly .”
The silence that followed was deafening .
Izuku’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again, as if trying to process a particularly difficult math problem.
Then—
Mina shrieked with glee. “OH MY GOD.”
Denki collapsed onto the floor, kicking his legs.
Hanta was wheezing up a lung. "Yo, if Katsuki doesn't remember this tomorrow, I'm sending him the whole video."
Shoto, tilting his head in quiet observation, hummed next to Hitoshi .
Kyoka covered her mouth trying and failing to contain her laugh.
Tenya, visibly distressed, took a rigid step forward. “THAT IS NOT THE ISSUE RIGHT NOW.”
Katsuki ignored all of them completely, his red-rimmed, glassy eyes locked onto Izuku with pure devastation.
“How did I never see it before?” Katsuki wailed, gripping at his own hair like he was having an existential crisis.
Denki shrieked into the carpet. “HE’S LOSING IT.”
Izuku, still catching up , made a strangled noise. “I—I don’t—”
“You look like a pepperoni pizza , my dude,” Katsuki croaked.
Ojiro, who had been quietly sipping his drink, choked .
Mina screeched, shaking Ochako. “WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!”
Katsuki hiccupped, shaking his head violently , as if trying to physically contain the sheer magnitude of his revelation.
“M-Miniature pepperonis on your cheesy pizza face,” he continued, voice hoarse with emotion.
Izuku, horribly overwhelmed, stared blankly at the room, desperately searching for help .
Katsuki, distraught, kept rambling. “You’re like—mmm—green, moldy pizza—and—and there’s a scam-worthy amount of pepperonis on your face—” he choked back a sob—“ how did I never notice?!”
Ochako looked wrecked, wiping at her teary eyes. “I can’t—I can’t breathe —”
Mina was fully collapsed against the couch, gripping her stomach, while Denki rolled onto his back, gasping like a fish out of water.
Kyoka just shook her head. “How did we get here?”
And then—
A sudden, ominous creak echoed from above.
The laughter stuttered to a stop.
Everyone’s heads snapped up just in time to see Katsuki shift, his entire body twisting with terrifying ease , his weight shifting from his hands to his knees as he dropped lower—until he was dangling upside down, gripping the light fixture with the strength of a man who had nothing left to lose.
A collective inhale.
His wild, glassy eyes locked onto Eijiro.
“And you —” he hissed.
Eijiro stiffened. “ Me ?”
Katsuki pointed an accusatory finger at him, red eyes filled with betrayal. “ YOU , shitty spikey red fuckin’ hair, are supposed to be my best friend . And yet—AND YET—” His voice cracked. His lip trembled .
Then, suddenly—
A deep, gut-wrenching sob ripped from his throat.
Eijiro panicked. “Dude, what?! What did I do? !”
Katsuki hiccupped. His hands clawed at his chest, as if trying to physically hold in the weight of his emotions. “YOU HAVE NOT ONCE— NOT ONCE —SAT ME DOWN AND TOLD ME TO MY FACE HOW BEAUTIFUL MY BOYFRIENDS ARE.”
Eijiro’s jaw dropped . “Wh—”
“HOW DARE YOU?!” Katsuki wailed.
Hanta gasped dramatically from the sidelines. “How could you, bro?”
Mina snickered, clapping her hands. “This is the best day of my life .”
Denki, still hunched over from laughter, barely choked out, “ What is happening —”
But Katsuki wasn’t done.
He turned his head, his puffy , teary-eyed gaze locking onto Shoto and Hitoshi, and his entire body shook with fresh emotion.
His lip wobbled .
His chest heaved .
And then—
Then he wailed .
Again.
Loud. Wet. Tragic.
Hitoshi groaned, running a hand down his face. “Oh my God .”
Shoto just sighed.
“ My loves ,” Katsuki whined, still swinging like a man who had transcended reality . “My precious, tall, lanky, muscley beans—I have sung your praises, I have proclaimed my devotion, and yet—” He sniffled, eyes darting to their friends, “—these HEATHENS do not understand.”
Hitoshi rubbed his temples. “Kats, babe, you gotta get down from there.”
Katsuki ignored him.
Instead, he let out a deep, trembling sigh, staring at his boyfriends as if they were the only thing holding him together.
“Toshi,” he murmured, voice cracking. “My moonless night, my infinite cosmos .”
Hitoshi groaned. “Kats.”
Katsuki turned to Shoto, eyes shining. “Sho’. My frozen flame, my glacier-born inferno .”
Shoto smiled slightly.
And then—
Then, in the midst of his Shakespearean meltdown—
The light fixture made a suspicious creaking noise.
Everyone froze.
Katsuki blinked.
Mina gasped. “Oh no—”
Then—
With one final, pathetic crack—
The entire fixture snapped .
Katsuki dropped like a sack of potatoes.
Right onto Eijiro.
Eijiro barely had time to react before Katsuki crashed into him, sending them both sprawling onto the floor with a loud oof .
For a moment, there was silence.
Katsuki gasped.
A gasp so offended, so violated , it could have belonged to a fainting noblewoman in a period drama.
“ UNHAND ME, YOU UNSIGHTLY BEAST! ” he shrieked, flailing wildly in Eijiro’s grip. “HOW DARE YOU MANHANDLE ME LIKE SOME COMMON RAGDOLL ?!”
Eijiro, still half-dazed from breaking Katsuki’s fall, groaned. “Dude, you literally fell on me—”
Katsuki ignored him.
With all the grace of a dethroned prince, he shoved at Eijiro’s arms, kicking and writhing until he rolled himself free. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he crawled across the floor toward Shoto and Hitoshi, his bleary, tear-streaked eyes shining with devotion.
“Only they ,” he gasped, voice heavy with emotion, “my iridescent twilight and my untamed tempest, are allowed to get so personal with me.”
Eijiro, still laying flat on his back, blinked up at the ceiling. “...Bro, what the fuck.”
Hanta wheezed. “That was poetry, man.”
Ochako wiped at her tear-streaked face. “I think I just ascended.”
Denki had collapsed onto the couch, still howling with laughter, one hand clutching his stomach. “Katsuki—Katsuki, what the hell—”
But Katsuki was not done.
No.
He had a mission .
With a pathetic, wobbly little stumble, he flung himself at Shoto and Hitoshi, arms stretching out like a drowning man reaching for salvation.
Hitoshi sighed, but caught him anyway, steadying him as Katsuki practically melted against them.
“My beloveds ,” Katsuki whispered, nuzzling into Hitoshi’s shoulder like a very affectionate, very high cat. “Take me away from these peasants .”
Hitoshi just patted his back. “Yeah, okay, baby.”
Shoto gently carded his fingers through Katsuki’s hair, his lips twitching in amusement. “I like the new metaphors.”
Katsuki sniffled dramatically, pressing his face against Shoto’s chest. “I meant every word .”
Katsuki groaned into Shoto’s chest, going completely limp. Like a boneless cat. A very clingy, lovesick, boneless cat.
“I’m so tired,” he whined.
Hitoshi huffed, tightening his hold so Katsuki didn’t just slide to the floor like a melted candle. “Yeah? Maybe that’s ‘cause you climbed onto the chandelier, baby.”
Katsuki whined louder. “That was, like… forever ago.”
“It was five minutes ago.”
Shoto hummed, still threading his fingers through Katsuki’s hair. “You also screamed about how no one appreciates us, then hung upside down and cried about it.”
Katsuki groaned, face smooshed against Shoto’s shirt. “That’s ‘cause they don’t ,” he grumbled, voice muffled. “You guys are, like, the best people ever, and nobody even gets it .”
“We get it,” Mina snickered.
“No, you don’t ,” Katsuki insisted, pulling back just enough to look up at Hitoshi and Shoto. His beautiful boyfriends. His perfect boyfriends. The best things that had ever happened to him.
“You guys are, like…” He blinked heavily, brain lagging. “Like… like the only two brain cells in my head. But, like, one is a warm blankety guy and the other is a cool mysterious guy, and they work so good together, and if I didn’t have ‘em I’d probably, like… just fall over and die.”
Hitoshi bit back a laugh. “That’s real romantic, babe.”
Katsuki frowned, expression crumbling into something sad and distressed . “No, I mean it.”
Shoto’s lips twitched. “We know.”
Katsuki huffed, wrapping his arms tighter around them. “You guys are my favorite people. Ever. In the whole fucking world. In the whole—” he waved a weak, wobbly hand at the air “— universe .”
Hitoshi patted his back. “We know, baby.”
Katsuki sniffed, clinging harder. “I love you guys.”
Shoto kissed the top of his head. “We love you too.”
Katsuki sniffled again. Then groaned. Then sagged even more.
“I think I wanna die.”
Hitoshi snorted. “No, you wanna sleep.”
“Same thing,” Katsuki muttered.
Shoto shifted, glancing at Eijiro, who still looked mildly traumatized on the floor. “Do you mind if we crash here?”
Eijiro blinked. “Huh? Oh—uh, yeah, totally, dude.”
Hitoshi gave Katsuki’s back a final rub before hoisting him up into his arms, barely even struggling under his weight. Katsuki just melted against him with a sleepy little sigh.
Denki whistled. “Damn, that’s hot.”
Mina smacked his arm.
As they carried Katsuki toward the guest room, he lifted his head weakly, blinking at the crowd of his former classmates with his red-rimmed, sleepy-ass eyes.
“…Love you guys too,” he mumbled, before immediately passing the fuck out.
Katsuki stirred, blinking blearily as his cheek pressed against Shoto’s chest. His whole body felt heavy—like he’d melted into the couch, but also kind of floaty. Like a balloon tied to a rock.
Then he saw Hitoshi sitting on the other side of him, scrolling through his phone, and the emotions hit him like a truck.
His heart—his soft, delicate, pink little cotton candy heart—quivered, dissolving at the sight of them.
“Mmgh,” Katsuki groaned, curling further into Shoto. “Fuck. You guys are still here.”
Hitoshi raised an eyebrow. “Uh. Yeah? Where else would we be?”
Katsuki’s lip wobbled. His bleary, red-rimmed eyes flicked between them, filled with far too much emotion for someone who just woke up. “You guys are so good,” he mumbled. “So— so fuckin’ good.”
Shoto gently smoothed a hand down Katsuki’s back. “You’re still high, aren’t you?”
“I love you,” Katsuki whined, shoving his face against Shoto’s chest like it physically hurt to look at him. “It’s so stupid how much I love you.”
Hitoshi snorted. “Yeah? How stupid?”
Katsuki inhaled sharply, dramatic as hell. “My heart—my heart is cotton candy,” he declared, voice muffled by Shoto’s shirt. “And every time you smile, it dissolves. Disintegrates .” He made a pitiful noise. “I need it to beat, but you keep smiling —I’m gonna die .”
Shoto blinked down at him. “That sounds serious.”
“It is ,” Katsuki grumbled. “You guys are gonna be the death of me.”
Hitoshi hummed, rubbing slow circles against Katsuki’s back. “At least you’ll go out happy.”
“No,” Katsuki whined. “You don’t get it. It’s so bad .” His voice was all slurred and sleepy, like he was just barely clinging to consciousness, but still had so much to complain about. “Every time you touch me I get all fuzzy and warm —like a fuckin’ heated blanket. And your voices? Fuckin’ ambrosia . You speak , and I feel it in my bones .”
Shoto pressed his lips together, trying so hard not to laugh. “That’s… intense.”
“It is,” Katsuki groaned, throwing an arm over his face. “I wanna bite you .”
Hitoshi’s mouth twitched. “Out of love?”
“Yes,” Katsuki grumbled. “But also spite . ‘Cause you make me feel all gooey and safe and it’s gross .”
Shoto exchanged a look with Hitoshi, barely holding in his amusement. “You poor thing.”
“I am,” Katsuki muttered, already dozing off again. “You guys are too perfect. It’s ruining me.”
Hitoshi chuckled, carding his fingers through Katsuki’s messy hair. “Yeah, yeah. We love you too, dummy.”
Katsuki just let out a content little hum, nuzzling further into them—then, with the last ounce of his strength, he sank his teeth into the closest thing within reach. Which happened to be Hitoshi’s shoulder.
Not hard, not painful—just a soft, lazy, love bite.
Hitoshi froze. “Did you just bite me?”
“Mmhm,” Katsuki mumbled against his skin, already halfway to unconsciousness. Then, like it was the most obvious thing in the world—“’S’cause I love you.”
Shoto stifled a laugh as Hitoshi just stared at him.
Then—Katsuki’s grip went slack. His breathing evened out. His mouth still rested against Hitoshi’s shoulder, but he was out .
Hitoshi sighed. “I can’t believe our boyfriend is also bitey when high.”
Shoto gently peeled Katsuki’s face away from Hitoshi’s shoulder, settling him more comfortably between them. “At least he loves us,” he said mildly.
And then, as if on instinct, with all the lazy determination of a sleeping toddler, Katsuki unconsciously turned his head, nosed at Shoto’s arm, and chomped down.
Hitoshi snorted.
Shoto blinked, looking down at the set of very committed, very asleep teeth latched onto his forearm. “Did he just—”
A soft snore.
Shoto sighed with affection.
Hitoshi shook his head, smirking as he pressed a kiss to Katsuki’s messy hair. “Yeah. Yeah, he really does.”