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Katsuki is sick and tired of having a pretty boy in his kitchen all the damn time. He never should have agreed to be roommates with Todoroki fucking Shouto.
He only becomes more of a pain in the ass as the years go on.
Katsuki doesn’t budge from where he’s leaning back on the counter and drinking his coffee when Shouto walks up to him.
Shouto doesn’t even ask him to move, the asshole just reaches behind him to grab something from the shelf above, closer than he should be. He’s still not as close as Katsuki wishes he could be. Katsuki wishes that he could just lean forward a few inches to meet Shouto halfway, it would be so easy to kiss him. Instead, all he can do is complain about the proximity he craves so—
Suddenly, Katsuki can feel his lips against Shouto’s. He was able to intercept him so easily, their lips lining up so perfectly. It’s exactly how Katsuki has imagined kissing Shouto for years.
He’s waited for this moment for so long. Katsuki can barely feel the kiss, he’s so overwhelmed that this is real and Shouto wants—
He opens his eyes to find Shouto not kissing him at all, he’s already moved away from him with his cereal box in hand.
The disappointment that it was the quirk leaves a pit so heavy in his stomach that Katsuki could puke. The sadness of knowing that he’ll never actually—
No. Fuck no.
Katsuki is going to ignore these fucking hallucinations and these bullshit feelings as easily as he always has. This is nothing new.
“You get in my space way too fucking much,” Katsuki snaps, swallowing everything down easily.
Shouto only raises his eyebrows at him, somehow both placating and condescending. Katsuki knows that it’s as much of a response as he’s going to get. Shouto is never talkative in the mornings.
He sets his coffee down needlessly loud anyways.
He’d like to go on a run and forget about the entire morning already, but he’s currently not allowed out of their apartment without an escort.
And, of course, that escort is Shouto.
Everyone had agreed that would be the easiest solution— except for Katsuki. No one asked him for his opinion on his own babysitter.
He leaves to take a shower instead. At least he can be alone.
Hopefully, he’ll get a call soon telling him how much time he has left with this stupid quirk affecting him. Quirks that wear off are the fucking worst. It’s utterly embarrassing that he let himself get hit with it.
The villains profile called it a hallucination quirk.
Katsuki scrubs the shampoo into his scalp and tries not to imagine how badly everything could go if any of these hallucinations were shared with anyone. Especially Shouto.
The quirk is supposed to play out the person’s desires because it’s the most effective way to trick the idiots who fall for it. They’ve all been pretty fucking vivid so far. And they’ve all involved Shouto since he got home.
Shouto can never know what he really wants. It would ruin everything.
Shouto is lounging on the couch when Katsuki leaves the bathroom. It’s a miracle that he manages to organize his long limbs so easily on there, much less relax as contently as he does.
“Do you want to go for a run?” Shouto asks, sounding like he’s ready to yawn.
“I just took a fucking shower,” Katsuki scoffs, shaking his damp hair for effect.
“Yes, that was weird,” Shouto observes as if it’s a fact unrelated to his question, actually yawning this time.
“I’ll sweat if we run,” Katsuki grumbles.
“You always sweat a lot,” Shouto shrugs, standing up to reveal that he’s already in a running outfit.
“Fuck off. And how in the hell was it weird?”
Katsuki’s shouting as he walks away to change his clothes. He would very much like to go for a run, unfortunately.
Katsuki only needs to change his pants, but he gives himself another minute alone to take a breath.
Running is good. Running clears the mind. No risks there.
“It was weird to take a shower before going on your run,” Shouto answers when he returns.
“That’s because I wasn’t going— you’re a fucking stalker,” Katsuki huffs as he ties his shoes.
“You’re extremely predictable, Katsuki,” Shouto nearly hums as he finishes his own laces, “I think a stalker would get too bored to last more than a day.”
“Once again, fuck off,” Katsuki says as he locks their apartment door.
He doesn’t think Shouto has much room to talk when it comes to following a routine, but he doesn’t want to fall into this trap. Shouto will find a way to turn it back into a snarky remark of how well Katsuki pays attention to him as a defense. That would just hit too close to the mark.
Once they get onto the sidewalk and start to jog their route, everything begins to feel normal again.
As long as Katsuki ignores the constant anxiety cycling in the back of his mind, that is.
It’s an odd combination. The clarity that he always finds in a good run is just within reach, but he can’t allow himself to settle into it.
He’s worried. Katsuki is slightly terrified that he’s going to get lost in a stupid fucking hallucination and something will go wrong. Maybe he’ll run right into traffic or think a civilian is a villain or think Shouto is a villain—
“Shou, maybe I shouldn’t be out here,” Katsuki pants as they slow down for a crosswalk.
“I know it’s a Saturday, but I don’t think children are as scared of your face anymore,” Shouto says, his tone is perfectly calm, but his eyes search Katsuki with concern.
“Shut up, asshole. I meant the quirk, something could go wrong,” he admits.
Shouto stares at him a little longer, his eyes tracing Katsuki’s face as if inspecting him.
“I think it’ll be fine. If you sprint into traffic, I’ll just freeze you.”
“I could do a hell of a lot more than that,” Katsuki snaps.
“I don’t think so. Remember, the quirk is meant to mimic your desires and I don’t think yours would be harmful,” Shouto observes thoughtfully.
Katsuki doesn’t say anything to that. His desires are fucking harmful all right, harmful for their friendship and his heart— even their damn living situation. His desires are a bomb waiting to detonate and destroy them both.
Still, Shouto’s words calm him a little bit. It’s true that he doesn’t particularly want to fight any villains or throw himself in front of moving vehicles, so it should be physically safe.
This quirk is still a serious pain in his ass.
They choose a longer route than normal. Katsuki wants to hold onto this one unaffected part of his routine and Shouto obliges him. When they start to near their apartment again, Shouto can’t quite make it. They slow down for the last couple blocks so he can catch his breath.
Now that Katsuki’s had a chance to regulate himself, he can see that Shouto’s the one who really looks out of the ordinary. There’s a faint shadow under his unscarred eye and a sluggishness that’s hard to miss— he looks exhausted.
“Did you not sleep last night, dumbass?”
Shouto ignores him, his breath still slowing down with their pace. Katsuki doesn’t need him to answer though, it’s clear as fucking day that this dumbass probably barely even napped.
“You really need to learn that the cat videos are an unlimited supply,” Katsuki scolds, “Sleep’s fucking important.”
Shouto glares at him, somehow both conveying that he’s fed up with Katsuki and unaffected by him.
For someone who hardly ever moves his facial muscles, Shouto has mastered multifaceted facial expressions. Or maybe Katsuki can just predict him.
“I thought that the quirk may have an effect on your dreams,” Shouto explains.
Well, that certainly shuts him up. Katsuki doesn’t know how he feels about that.
He doesn’t need someone to take care of him. That’s what he wants to say.
Every other part of him is melting at the sentiment. Shouto should not have stayed up and missed sleep. It was detrimental to him and Katsuki hates to see it.
But, fuck— Shouto really cares about him.
“So, you gave yourself sleep deprivation in case I got a little nightmare?”
Katsuki tried to say it like it was ridiculous, to mock the entire concept that he would even have a nightmare in the first place, but the words come out cracked and vulnerable. His emotions are weighing him down too much for him to stay completely guarded.
“A very vivid nightmare, yes,” Shouto answers the rhetorical question.
Shouto seems unaware of how deeply Katsuki is falling into the fucking deep end right now. How badly he wants to thank Shouto and promise that he would do the same for him.
Katsuki wants to reach out to him so badly that it hurts. It’s driving him crazy to walk a foot away from Shouto when what he really wants to do is pull him in close and thank him for caring at all— for not leaving him alone.
When he tries to close his hand in a fist to resist the urge, he finds that he can’t. His left hand is reaching out instead and closing the gap between them.
He’s flooded with relief when Shouto’s fingers wrap around his own in response. Shouto’s right hand is predictably cool, but it intertwines perfectly with his own.
Katsuki would never admit how often he’s thought of this. He’s spent so many days walking next to Shouto and thinking about how easy it would be to reach out and take his hand. It’s the type of casual touch that he always thought Shouto would allow if he tried, he just would never be sure of what it really meant.
Now, Katsuki understands that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have to mean a damn thing as long as they’re both happy.
The touch eases the anxiety that had been resting in the background. Katsuki feels safe and comfortable, fuck he doesn’t even care that they’re in public. He can’t even remember what the hell he was—
When he looks over at Shouto’s face, he realizes that they’re not holding hands at all.
The distance between them is the same as it’s always been.
Katsuki tries to ignore how irrationally cold his hand feels as he clenches it into a fist. He will not reach out to Shouto.
He can’t afford to take that risk right now.
“Nap time,” Katsuki calls out as soon as Shouto comes out after his shower.
Shouto doesn’t acknowledge that he heard him at all, but Katsuki thinks he hears the faintest grumble while Shouto’s browsing the pantry.
“Seriously, Shou, you look fucking dead,” he presses.
“My only task for the day is to not leave you alone,” Shouto says as joins Katsuki in the living room, “Being alive isn’t a requirement.”
Katsuki often wonders if Shouto is actually aware of the incoherent shit that leaves his mouth on a regular basis.
He can’t handle another hallucination centering around Shouto, but he can’t admit to fucking having them at all. He doesn’t really want to be alone either.
“Sleep on the damn couch then,” Katsuki provides his suggestion as an order.
Shouto gives him a weighted look, making Katsuki feel like a child whose parent is seeing through their plot.
“I won’t fucking leave,” Katsuki grumbles, slouching into the couch, “I love to just sit here in the middle of the damn day.”
Shouto must truly be exhausted, because he actually begins to lay down on the couch without more argument. Katsuki had been planning to get up and move to the chair, but Shouto manages to fit himself horizontally on the couch with Katsuki still here.
Shouto puts a pillow against Katsuki’s leg with more force than needed before resting his head on it. His message is clear: don’t move.
He wants to argue this too, but he understands it too much. He would want the reassurance if it were Shouto that was hit by a quirk. He would want the reassurance if Shouto was bothered by anything at all.
“G’night, Katsuki,” he mumbles with his eyes already closed.
“Good afternoon, fucker,” Katsuki returns with a sigh.
This moment is too soft. The gentleness that Shouto spoke his name with is too much for him to handle after the torture this quirk has been putting him through.
He’s still recovering from knowing that Shouto went without sleep because he was worried about him. Shouto would sleep 16 hours a day like a cat if he could, but he kept himself up all night just to make sure Katsuki was okay.
Fuck, Katsuki wasn’t even in danger. Shouto stayed up all night just to make sure that he wouldn’t wake up terrified and alone.
He reaches for the remote to put something —anything— on to drown out the thoughts taking over his remaining sanity. He lands on a cooking show, nothing serious but interesting enough to binge a bit. He wants Shouto to take a real nap, but he’s not willing to commit himself to this couch long enough for a movie in the middle of the damn day.
The cooking show turns out to actually be a baking show that’s interesting enough to pull his interest. Briefly.
Katsuki really needs to start making sure to stay on Shouto’s left side. That would be the most comfortable in moments like these. It’s his right side laying down against the couch and it doesn’t take long for the small difference in temperature to be noticeable.
Shouto’s a completely different person when it comes to his feelings about his quirk than he was in high school, but Katsuki still finds some unhealed parts left in the open.
It’s hard to imagine that the most wanted bachelor in the hero industry could have insecurities, but he thinks he can spot them in Shouto. Everyone sees him as so cool and aloof, they don’t notice that he tends to walk with his right side facing people. Or the way that his left hand seems to never be the one he reaches out with.
He doubts that Shouto is even aware of these small habits. It’s probably the way he’s carried himself his entire life.
If Shouto subconsciously wants to hide his scar, then his habits have failed him today. His left side is what’s facing Katsuki, just barely off of his lap. Shouto’s red hair is already tussled in his sleep, falling on top of his white hair on the pillow and covering his eye.
He can tell by Shouto’s breathing that he’s deeply asleep already, the noise of the show in the background did nothing to keep him awake.
Katsuki reaches out slowly to gently brush his crimson hair off of his face. Shouto’s scar isn’t new to him. He’s lightly brushed his skin in small moments like this before and he’s seen the details of it up close enough to have the small ridges of it memorized.
Even if he’s unaware of them, something in Katsuki still feels the need to reach out and pull Shouto away from the subtle habits that make him feel even the smallest bit less comfortable in his skin.
He’s completely ignoring the TV now in favor of staring at Shouto’s sleeping face like some sort of lovestruck idiot. His thighs are locked in place, he’s certain that if he lets himself shift even a little bit that Shouto will snap awake on instinct.
Watching over Shouto feels like things are starting to slowly fall back into place. He hates feeling like he needs to be babysat, but he understands that it needs to be done. He just can’t stand the feeling of being the only one who’s being taken care of.
In another world, he could see Shouto asleep peacefully like this every night. He can picture it so clearly, how easy and comfortable it would be to come home to each other every night— truly come home to each other.
Some days, being roommates feels too close for contentment. They’ve grown so close, it feels like they share everything except touch.
There’s a soft ache in Katsuki that sharpens in peaceful moments like these.
He wishes they touched each other freely. Katsuki doesn’t only crave the physical connection, but the freedom to stop repressing every little urge that itches under his skin.
Even right now, Katsuki wishes he could have run his fingers through Shouto’s hair to ease him into sleep rather than only brushing it out of his eye.
Shouto’s hair had been so soft against his calloused fingertips.
He can imagine how Shouto might lean into the touch if he were to gently run his fingers through his hair, he can’t help but picture him leaning into the touch like a cat.
Katsuki startles out of his thoughts, he can’t tell if the strength of the silly little fantasy is a hallucination or only the longing that’s always pressing against his chest.
Shouto shifts in response to his suddenly tense legs, stretching slightly without opening his eyes.
Katsuki freezes and waits for him to fully relax back into his nap.
Shouto leans his head into the pillow so that Katsuki can feel the weight of him on his lap.
He mumbles a single word, “Katsuki.”
Katsuki stays completely still.
He can’t even trust that this moment is real.
He could be craving this small fucking flicker of tenderness as badly as a makeout in the kitchen. Fuck, he might as well assume every interaction with Shouto to be a hallucination with how pathetically happy it makes him.
This apartment is a fucking torture chamber.
Katsuki finally caves and turns on a movie.
As if he had been waiting for his cue, Shouto wakes up from his nap as soon as Katsuki starts to get a little invested in the plot. Shouto wakes with a big yawn, stretching his arms out and nearly hitting Katsuki in the face.
“I”m right fuckin’ here,” Katsuki grumbles when Shouto bumps his nose.
“Just checking,” he mumbles.
Beautiful fucking bastard did it on purpose.
He doesn’t relinquish his spot with his head on Katsuki’s leg. Instead, Shouto stretches out more fully across the couch and wriggles his way even further onto his lap.
He’s trying to kill him.
Katsuki wants to tell him to get the fuck off of him. He needs to catch his breath for just a damn minute today and try not to go completely insane. But he can’t ignore the possibility that Shouto will tell him that he’s not actually cuddling into him at all.
Then everything would be over. Obliterated with nothing left.
There’s no way in hell that he could admit to Shouto that the hallucinate-your-true-desires-quirk is making him hallucinate cuddles on the couch together without it screaming “oh and by the way I’m in love with you in the most pathetic way”. There is no damn way he’s admitting that.
“I’m not restarting the stupid movie for you,” Katsuki grumbles.
It’s the only threat he has.
Shouto rolls over to face him with a clumsy and adorable shuffle on the small couch. He looks up to him with his sleepy, stupid fucking mismatched eyes in a way that grabs Katsuki by the heart and then makes him choke on it.
How is he so fucking adorable?
“That’s okay,” Shouto tells him, clearly still half asleep as he does nothing but continue to stare.
Katsuki restarts the damn movie.
“Watch it then.”
Shouto turns back to the screen and Katsuki’s breathing begins to slow down.
It only takes two scenes for him to begin to feel confident that this isn’t a hallucination.
The realization doesn’t make a single thing easier for him.
Shouto had been touching him less when he was asleep. Now, he is lying fully across his lap and is resting his whole fucking left hand on his knee.
It’s warm. He can’t ignore it.
It’s not even normal.
Since when in the hell does Shouto rest a hand on his knee?
It’s like he can tell that he’s driving him completely insane. Wait— fuck, can he tell?
Katsuki wants to shove Shouto off of him and get the fuck out of here. Now.
He also wants to rub his hand against Shouto’s back.
Katsuki’s a greedy motherfucker.
“I’m getting a snack,” he finally announces, pausing the movie.
Shouto perks up, immediately removing himself from Katsuki’s lap. Shouto doesn’t have to say it— Katsuki knows that he’s fully aware that a midday snack is far out of his routine.
Shouto begins to list off the snacks that he’d like Katsuki to grab for him as well. It’s about three times as many snacks than any person should eat in a sitting and an absolutely ridiculous ask.
“Do I look like your damn servant? Get it yourself,” Katsuki rolls his eyes as he gets up.
Shouto looks him up and down as if it were a serious question, his eyes slowly scanning him from head to toe.
“Well, your professionalism could improve, but you do take care of most of the cooking and cleaning,” Shouto concludes before lying back down to take the entire couch for himself.
Shouto’s going to kill him someday.
Katsuki’s going to have a stroke from how much this asshole makes him short circuit trying to process his ridiculous excuse for jokes.
Shouto looks a tad apologetic, like he’s at least aware of the torture he’s putting him through. Maybe even regretful for needlessly testing his tempter on a day that’s already been emotionally exhausting.
It might be a lot of emotions to assume out of a few minuscule changes in Shouto’s face, but he has an excellent record of success in this area— like most skills he decides to master.
“Please,” Shouto pouts, “I’m tired.”
This bastard is emotionally manipulating him.
Katsuki gets about two-thirds of Shouto’s stupid requests along with his own. He’s a weak man when it comes down to it.
“Sit up,” Katsuki piles the snacks onto the coffee table.
“Thank you, Katsuki,” Shouto says the words placatingly, with zero remorse for the absolute menace he is.
He takes full advantage of the opportunity to reclaim half of the couch without Shouto pushing into his personal space to test all of his control along with his patience. Well, almost full advantage— he still sits on the stupid couch instead of alone on the chair.
Katsuki doesn’t hear a single word of the movie after pressing play. The entirety of his focus is devoted to the food in front of him. He doesn’t normally subject his body to this kind of treatment, but this is essentially his lunch at this point in the day.
When he reaches the end of his sorry excuse for sustenance, his awareness begins to slowly trickle back to Shouto instead of the movie.
Shouto isn’t touching him, but Katsuki is entirely aware of every little shift he makes on the couch as he shuffles around between his collection of snacks on the table.
It’s fucking ridiculous. He’s seen this idiot chip away at food countless times.
By the time Shouto finishes eating, Katsuki feels like a teenager in a dark movie theater on a first date. He’s just sitting here with his skin prickling in anticipation and hoping for things that will never happens outside of his stupidest dreams.
But he’s not an idiot teenager. He’s a grown fucking adult in his own living room in the full light of the day sitting next to the man that he’s seen nearly everyday for years.
Fucking pathetic.
Shouto has slowly began to face him. His eyes are almost exclusively fixed on Katsuki, as if he wouldn’t notice him nearly completely turned sideways on the couch and staring at him.
“I can see you staring,” Katsuki doesn’t look away from the TV.
“That’s okay, it’s my job,” Shouto speaks the words too softly.
The stupid joke is easy to connect, but his tone prickles Katsuki’s defenses.
“I’m fucking fine,” Katsuki snaps, harsher than he meant to.
“I didn’t say you weren’t.”
Shouto speaks the words in the way that only he can.
Shouto is the only person in the entire world that can seem to completely not understand a conversation, while cutting Katsuki straight to his core.
He turns to look back at Shouto, finding his eyes drawn to the faint dark circle still visible below his right eye. While Shouto is his entire obstacle today, he’s also been relatively quiet.
There’s concern and worry so clearly evident in his eyes that it chokes Katsuki into surrendering his defenses.
“The quirk is barely doing anything,” Katsuki lies.
“I don’t think it’s the quirk that’s bothering you,” Shouto says, his tone soothing without condescension.
Katsuki doesn’t believe that Shouto’s convinced by his lie, but there’s a sincerity in his words that is undeniable.
Shouto is always so perfectly perceptive at exactly the wrong times.
Shouto sees completely through him. That’s always been true and right now isn’t an exception.
The shift in the air between them is palpable. Katsuki can feel the spark of it flickering across his skin in a revival of his irrational anticipation of earlier.
The moment is right fucking here if he wants it.
Shouto is completely within reach. Katsuki could confess. Right here on their couch.
They’re so close, he could whisper his most protected secret and Shouto would hear him.
He could tell Shouto how long he’s been in love with him and even how pathetically desperate his feelings have become.
Katsuki knows that he needs to resist the urge. The fear of rejection from the only person with enough hold to break his heart is heavy, it sinks into his bones.
“I’m in love with you, Shouto,” he whispers, “Desperately.”
The words are ripped from his throat. It’s entirely impulsive and terrifying and, fuck, it sounds like a line from a fucking shoujo manga.
Shouto smiles.
It’s his softest smile, the one that seems to barely show on his lips but still shines joy so brightly from his eyes.
Everything is shifting into place. It feels so right to share the emotions that have been so untouchable with Shouto. It’s a relief to see him smile in response.
“You don’t have to tell me, but I’m here,” Shouto says before turning back to the TV.
Katsuki doesn’t trust himself— he can’t trust himself.
The credits begin to roll for the movie and he doesn’t budge.
There’s no point in moving. All it would do is give more opportunity for his own senses to betray him. The only thing left for him to do is wait for the stupid time to pass.
This is the true feeling of defeat.
Katsuki’s been defeated before now. He’s tasted complete defeat already, but now it’s being shoved down his throat. It’s an annihilation on every level with no path out of it to victory. And it’s only been a single day with the quirk affecting him. It’s like he’s barely even been able to tread water with his head above the surface, but now the water has turned into wet cement to drag him down and force him to fight with his full strength. It’s a sadness and longing that he doesn’t know how to move through anymore.
He has spent countless hours until today trapped in these stupid, pointless fantasies of being with Shouto, of truly being with him. Katsuki has been able to swallow those desires and accept life for what it is.
He doesn’t know how to exist any other way.
He had been just fine until this pathetic quirk. He had been living the way he chose to.
Even if the words never left his lips or Shouto never truly touched him, it’s as if he’s touched heaven only to crash violently back down to earth over and over again.
Katsuki doesn’t know how to move forward even just for tonight. He doesn’t know how to keep living this way again when he’d rather only exist in the hallucinations of some losers quirk.
Utter fucking pathetic defeat.
Katsuki doesn’t allow his gaze to shift from the credits as they near the end, but he can feel Shouto still silently sitting beside him on the couch.
He expects Shouto to prod him in some way when the credits finally cede and bring the screen back to the menu, but Shouto doesn’t speak at all. Instead, he begins to clean up the mess of their snacks and bring things to the kitchen without making any conversation.
He can’t imagine what Shouto must be thinking. He’s gone full blown catatonic on their couch after one of the most pointless rom coms he’s ever seen. There’s no way he looks normal from any possible angle.
Katsuki feels betrayed by himself in a way that scares him.
It terrifies him that Shouto may already see right through him. Shouto’s not actually an idiot by any definition. The pieces of his situation are all here on this couch just waiting to be put together.
As the sounds of everything being put away in the kitchen begin to quiet, Katsuki tries to think of an excuse to throw out when he returns.
But there’s no hallucination that serves as an excuse without revealing everything. There’s nothing he can say that doesn’t give an opportunity for his ears to deceive him with a response that he’ll never truly hear from Shouto’s lips.
When Shouto sits back down on the couch, he only settles down to stare at the stagnant menu with him.
Shouto is patient like this. He may love to whine and complain about everything mundane around the apartment, but he’ll wait for anyone he cares for when it’s needed. Supposedly, Katsuki is on that list.
Shouto is patient and caring and he fucking endures. They’re all quiet traits that he loves about Shouto.
Fuck.
Even as it completely tortures him, Katsuki can’t help how much he loves him.
He wants Shouto to get the hell out of here, but he can’t bring himself to say anything to push him away. He’s never been able to put his walls up high enough to keep Shouto from crawling right over them.
They’ve always been at the surface, even when he denies everything as loudly as he can. Maybe that’s why the hallucinations feel so fucking raw and overpowering. Katsuki isn’t accustomed to shoving down his impulses, but that’s all he ever does around Shouto. He just isn’t built for this shit.
Katsuki nearly jolts off the couch when Shouto’s arms begin to wrap around him. He can feel the warmth of Shouto’s body as he snakes behind him and pulls him into his chest.
Katsuki closes his eyes.
He has no way of telling if this is real. Shouto’s body heat feels real. The gentle way Shouto intertwines himself with Katsuki while holding him so firmly seems real.
Katsuki wants the comfort either way. He craves it so badly that it aches, even while he seems to be receiving it. He lets himself lean into the touch, relaxing his shoulders so that he can feel the full breadth of Shouto’s chest pressed against him.
Shouto hugs him closer to rest his head on Katsuki’s shoulder and he can feel Shouto’s cheek against his neck.
Katsuki keeps his eyes shut as tight as he can while he tries not to fucking cry. It doesn’t even matter if Shouto is actually holding him or if his mind is torturing him. Either truth is not a reason to let himself cry. Not here.
Shouto’s breathing is quiet, but a powerful force with every exhale. The sound of it reaches out to trail over all of his exposed skin, leaving goosebumps of awareness in its wake. Shouto always seems to exist exactly like that. Quiet and subtle, but the most important presence in every damn room.
Katsuki wishes he wasn’t such a coward.
He wishes he was someone who could take a risk in this last area of life instead of clinging so tightly onto what he already has. He wishes he could ask for more and he wishes that this was enough.
Katsuki wakes up still on the couch. He’s curled in a ball and he can feel every minute of it in the soreness of his back as he sits up.
Shouto isn’t here.
It’s a fact that should relieve him, but the disappointment of being alone overpowers it.
It’s dark outside and there’s a blanket that’s been laid over him. Katsuki wonders if he had been alone in the blanket the entire time or if his last dream hadn’t been a fantasy at all.
He throws the blanket off of his lap along with the stray thoughts of every wish that’s been absolutely fucking betraying him today.
He knows he should eat something, but the weight of sleep is still dragging him down. He’s exhausted. He didn’t have the nightmares that Shouto had been worried about last night, but he barely slept. He’d been too wired today to feel it, but he could sleep for 16 hours right now.
He didn’t spot any signs of life from Shouto before he went into the bathroom, but Shouto’s leaning against his bedroom door now that he’s leaving. Like a fucking serial killer.
Katsuki grunts an acknowledgment of his presence, silently begging Shouto to just let him go to sleep without anything to tempt this damn quirk.
“Dinner?”
Shouto speaks the word like a question, but his eyes are conveying a command.
“I’m going the fuck to bed,” Katsuki nearly growls, his voice hoarse from sleep.
Shouto presses his lips together as he nods acceptance, clearly disagreeing with the choice.
The proximity of Shouto brings everything crashing back into him again. All of the hopelessness and longing that had left him for the briefest moment as he slept is pushing for escape.
Shouto hovers outside his bedroom door, clearly piecing thoughts together in his head as he partially blocks Katsuki’s way.
He does this sometimes, just stares and thinks. Katsuki usually waits to hear the stupid shit that’s going to come out of Shouto’s mouth, but he knows that he needs to pass him and close the door.
If he doesn’t just go the fuck to bed, then he’s going get dragged into another impossible reality again. Or worse, he’ll crumble.
Katsuki will break, right fucking here at the door. He’d love to break, actually.
He’d love to release even a fraction of what’s been building up instead of swallowing it all down alone in a minute. He’d love to truly lean on Shouto if he could.
Apparently, Katsuki doesn’t need to do anything. Shouto reaches out first without warning, wrapping his arms around Katsuki.
His breath catches, Shouto is holding him so firmly that it cracks something open in his chest. Fucking shatters it.
Shouto’s arms are as comforting and warm as he always thought they would be. His embrace is filled with care, it connects them in a way that no other touch ever could. Katsuki feels like he’s needed it for years, maybe his entire life.
It’s the first time in a long time that it doesn’t feel like Katsuki needs to carry everything alone.
It loosens something in him, he doesn’t want to only return Shouto’s hug. When he wraps his arms around Shouto, he’s finally ready to tell him.
Katsuki opens his mouth to whisper—
The hallucination melts away to rip the warmth of the imaginary embrace right out of Katsuki’s chest. He’s never felt so cold and alone in his entire life.
It’s so incredibly cruel to want—no, to need something so badly and have it torn from his grasp.
Shouto is finally opening his mouth to share whatever he’s been thinking, but Katsuki can’t risk another moment.
Katsuki doesn’t say a word, he doesn’t trust himself to say anything. Instead, he pushes past Shouto to get to his bedroom. He doesn’t actually touch Shouto at all, but he’s close enough to feel his body heat as he crosses the threshold.
Katsuki closes his eyes, forcing his will against the quirk and trying to remind himself that what he wants most right now is to get some fucking sleep.
He doesn’t open his eyes until the door is closed behind him. He’s glad that Shouto had the sense to get out of the way so that he’s at least not an asshole who literally shut the door on him.
Fuck.
Katsuki’s knees are so weak from the relief of whatever torment he narrowly avoided that he barely makes it to his bed. He almost collapsed right on the other side of the door like he’s in a fucking romance movie.
He can’t fucking do this.
He’s not built to be so fucking quiet. It’s only been a day. A single fucking day and he’s already crying and collapsing and hoping for shit he’ll never have. He’s actually hoping deep down that something will come of this torturous quirk— like a complete fucking idiot.
Katsuki smothers himself with his pillow in an attempt to stop himself from yelling expletives like a pining teenager.
Katsuki’s night is filled with readjusting in bed and staring out his window. He finds sleep on occasion.
Maybe he dreams too much during the day to really sleep at night. Izuku would form an entire hypothesis if he said some stupid shit like that in front of him.
As he opens his eyes this time, he can feel the wet spot of warm tears soaking into his pillow against his face.
Shit.
He’s just a fucking mess.
His breathing goes still at the sound of his door creaking open, he can tell from the soft steps that it’s Shouto. The fucker has some secret third quirk to tell when Katsuki needs him to stay away most.
Katsuki doesn’t trust his voice enough to tell Shouto to get the hell out of here, he only stiffens to hide his wet face as the bed shifts under Shouto’s weight behind him.
It’s too much.
His shoulders shake as more tears escape him from the mere knowledge of how much Shouto has been looking out for him with his exhausted and addled mind. It’s a tremble more than a shake, but there’s no chance it escapes Shouto’s notice.
“It’s okay, baby.”
That’s definitely Shouto’s voice, quiet and low behind him.
He can feel Shouto’s long fingers running through his hair. It’s a nice feeling, comforting without any weight to it at all. But he can tell that it’s Shouto’s hands. He can always recognize even the briefest and lightest touches from Shouto. Some part of him had hoped that it was a very weird villain, the rest of him is filled with a sort of surrender from the touch.
“Go back to sleep, baby, you need it,” Shouto’s voice is barely above a whisper.
There it is again— baby.
That word is another that’s always on the tip of his tongue around Shouto. He’s always thought that he’d only ever hear Shouto call him that if he were to miraculously turn into a cat.
Now the word is leaving Shouto’s lips while he runs his fingers gently through his hair. Katsuki can’t even remember what the hell he could have been crying about if he’s lucky enough to wake up to this.
So soft.
That’s what it is. Shouto’s voice, his touch, this entire moment is nothing but softness. It’s the softest thing in this damn bed and that’s how he wants every moment with Shouto to feel.
Katsuki wants to melt into the tenderness until he can insulate Shouto with the same comfort. He wants to absorb it until it’s the only feeling either of them know.
He leans into the touch of Shouto’s hand, rolling over to wrap himself around Shouto under the covers and find the entirety of his warmth.
No one is there.
Katsuki can’t stop himself this time. The string of profanity that leaves his mouth is loud in the dark room and the tears that stream down his cheeks can’t be slowed.
“Katsuki?”
Shouto opens the door so quickly that there’s no way he was asleep either. There’s none of the gentleness that Katsuki had hallucinated only moments ago, instead it’s sharp with concern and as alert as if someone could have just broken through his window.
“Fuck, you can’t be here, Shouto.”
Katsuki had tried to shout, he wanted his words to sting enough to form any level of defense, but instead he sounds raw. He can hear the tears and vulnerability in his own voice. He pulls his knees up to block his face from the view of the door and vows to track down the fucker who hit him with this quirk someday.
“Katsuki,” Shouto’s voice is patient, soothing even, “let me stay with you.”
It’s not a question.
Katsuki can feel a sob building in his chest like a bomb that’s going to erupt.
Shouto’s footsteps are light against the hardwood as he crosses the small bedroom. Each thud pulls on the last semblance of self control that Katsuki is clinging onto.
“I need you to get the fuck out of here,” Katsuki says, the words not managing to sound any harsher than if he had plead for Shouto to stay.
Katsuki’s eyes are squeezed shut, but he can hear Shouto’s steps stop a few feet from his bedside.
“I know you prefer to be alone, b—”
“Please, Shou,” Katsuki interrupts.
He knows that Shouto wasn’t about to say “baby”. The problem is the way that hope fluttered briefly in his chest at the single syllable anyways. He can’t fucking handle this.
“Okay,” Shouto concedes, his quiet voice pained and tense in the dark room.
Katsuki waits until the door clicks shut before he releases the tension and the sobs begin to rack his traitorous body.
Katsuki couldn’t make himself get out of bed when his alarm sounded. It’s been hours since then and his hunger hasn’t managed to change his mind.
The quirk may have worn off. It may not have.
He might start hallucinating from the sleep deprivation alone after another restless night.
He can’t fucking risk it. He’s not going to leave this room until it’s over.
The knock at his door is quiet, but not hesitant.
“I brought you breakfast,” Shouto calls out through the door.
He can hear the small thud and light clatter of items being placed by the door.
It’s pathetic, but Katsuki can’t force any words out of his throat. He should thank Shouto not only for making breakfast, but accepting the space he needs. He should apologize for last night. He had been so harsh when Shouto had only wanted to make sure he was okay.
He should apologize for the hallucinations that have been crafting themselves from his wishes.
There’s something wrong about it all when he stops to think about it. Here Shouto is, worrying and taking care of him, while he lives wrapped up in fantasies centered around him without his knowledge. Katsuki is doing nothing but living out desires of touching and being loved by Shouto, when he knows that can’t be what the other man wants.
It fills him with a sense of guilt.
Katsuki had thought that Shouto had already left, but he can hear Shouto’s footsteps as he walks away now.
Maybe it’s fucked up even without the quirk, to be so in love with someone so out of his grasp.
It taints their entire friendship, their situation as roommates, with a layer of something dirty even without the hallucinations. It’s not like the quirk is changing anything except the intensity.
He lives everyday wanting more from Shouto than he’ll ever have. It’s so selfish considering how much Shouto trusts him. It’s just wrong.
Katsuki’s head fucking hurts.
He doesn’t think any time has passed at all, but Shouto’s steps are already starting up again and approaching his door.
“Katsuki?”
Shouto’s voice is hesitant now, his knock against the door light to match it. Katsuki knows how it sounds when Shouto is going to ask something that he probably can’t handle.
Katsuki buries his head under his pillow and hums to tune whatever it is out.
It’s fucking rude, but he can’t handle hearing a single word. Hallucination or not.
Katsuki spends the entire day locked in his room in a series of naps.
The breakfast Shouto had made was good. It twisted his heart into something unspeakable to eat something made with so much care from him.
He knows that he imagined it when Shouto came to the door and begged to lay in bed with him to keep him company.
He slept through the delivery of lunch from Shouto so that he nearly tripped over it when he went to the bathroom. Shouto has been kind enough to stay out of sight of the hall, but Katsuki knows that he’s nearby. He’s probably spent the entire day within earshot in case Katsuki yelled or cried or even fucking sneezed.
Katsuki is a real asshole.
He knows it’s true. He’s spent the entire day hiding away like a coward.
Fuck, he spends his entire life hiding like a coward when it comes down to it. This quirk wouldn’t be able to absolutely torment him like this if he didn’t hide from what he wanted most in this world.
Really, though, who in their right mind would ever confess to Todoroki fucking Shouto?
Fans don’t count— they’re not in their right fucking mind.
Katsuki’s lucky enough to spend time with Shouto as it is. Even if he confessed and Shouto reciprocated, what then? He’s just supposed to live everyday praying that he doesn’t fuck up the best thing that he could ever dream of happening to him?
Fuck, he’s a coward.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Katsuki rips the blanket off and leaves the comfort of his room.
It’s evening already and he’s no better rested for it.
He walks with a purpose to the kitchen that’s loud enough to piss off their (always pissed at him) downstairs neighbors, much less alert the hyper aware Shouto to this new development.
He ignores Shouto perking up on the couch as he makes a beeline to the kitchen. Not because he’s a fucking coward, but because he’s still a little terrified to confront the man that he’s been worrying and blowing off all day. Not the same thing at all.
Looking through the fridge, he can just barely scrape together a dinner with the final remnants of their last grocery trip.
Cooking is good. It’s safe. Familiar.
It’s a bonus that Shouto has no business in the kitchen.
Katsuki has barely begun prepping everything when Shouto slides into a stool at the island counter to watch him. He tries to ignore the center of calmness that begins to build just from Shouto settling in near him. Completely fucking irrational given his predicament.
“This is not a fucking show,” Katsuki tries to discourage Shouto’s presence, but his words have absolutely no bite to them.
“I was going to order takeout for dinner,” Shouto says, ignoring Katsuki’s statement completely.
“Yeah? That’s a good plan since these are my groceries, fucker.”
Shouto hums absently, they both know that he’s definitely cooking dinner for the both of them.
“So, you can just get out of the kitchen while I cook my dinner,” Katsuki continues, desperately holding onto any chance for distance he can find as he chops the last of the vegetables.
“I think you’ve had enough space today,” Shouto says coolly.
It’s a familiar tone. Katsuki can tell that Shouto is doing his best to remain neutral, something that normally comes naturally to him whether he wants it or not.
Katsuki avoids looking into his eyes, “I was tired, okay?”
The excuse feels so weak and worthless as it leaves his lips. It’s leaving so many apologies and explanations left unsaid.
Katsuki breaks and risks a glance at Shouto. He finds Shouto raising his eyebrows, not needing any words to convey how clearly Katsuki’s defense didn’t satisfy him.
There’s more concern in Shouto’s eyes than the disappointment, or even anger, that he had been expecting though. There might even be hurt mixed in with it, Katsuki can’t quite tell before Shouto looks away to get up and cross the kitchen.
Katsuki braces himself to ignore anything out of the ordinary.
Shouto places a hand on his arm when he reaches him, a touch as sweet as it is casual. Katsuki can’t help the way all of the muscles in his body relax a fraction in response.
“Please, Katsuki,” he whispers.
Shouto doesn’t need to say it. Katsuki knows what he’s asking— for him to stop shutting Shouto out and hiding away. Even to be let in.
Katsuki should quit cooking and let Shouto order takeout. He should get the hell out of this kitchen before he betrays himself.
Shouto rubs his thumb in a gentle circle on his bicep and his defenses crumble away. He took an entire day of isolation to build them, but Shouto can destroy them with the lightest effort.
“It’s hard to be around people, Shou,” Katsuki whispers.
It’s hard to be around you.
“I know,” he whispers back with a hint of relief, “but it’s just me.”
Katsuki can barely stop himself from laughing at that. As if he could ever be “just” Shouto.
He lets his focus shift from the dangers of their conversation to the feeling of safety in Shouto’s hand against his bare arm. It’s warm. His left hand.
Maybe it’s because it’s the hundredth hallucination by now or maybe Katsuki’s become so attuned to the desires that the quirk takes advantage of, but he can feel the hallucination shifting into his mind.
There’s a tug of impulse pulling him to kiss Shouto right now that he knows will form itself into a vision any moment now.
Katsuki fucking wants it so bad. He doesn’t want to hide or question it. He only wants Shouto.
He lets himself go.
Katsuki reaches out to place his palm against Shouto’s left cheek, lets his fingers tangle into his red hair as he gently pulls Shouto into him.
Shouto’s eyes widen in surprise, but instead of pulling away, he tightens his grip on Katsuki’s arm.
The moment is so completely them as they pull each other in, it’s a solid sensation that consumes all of Katsuki’s awareness until there’s nothing left in his mind except the feeling of Shouto. He doesn’t think that anyone else in the world could grip him with so much force while remaining so gentle.
The kiss erases everything that Katsuki’s been imagining until now.
All he can think is that Shouto is so fucking perfect.
Katsuki doesn’t realize how hesitantly he’s kissing Shouto until Shouto wraps his arms around him to bring him in until there’s no room left between them. Katsuki is vaguely aware of something falling off the counter and clattering loudly onto the ground as they stumble back.
It’s everything he’s ever wanted and nothing he’s ever imagined.
It’s the delicate touch of a first kiss and the tenderness of the love that he’s never let himself admit.
That emotion persists even as Shouto’s tongue begins to press into his mouth, his hands running up and down Katsuki’s body with an eagerness that nearly overwhelms him. Katsuki doesn’t have to open his eyes to know that Shouto’s showing a passion that most will only ever see in the heat of a battle.
But Katsuki opens his eyes anyways, He pulls back, ignoring the way his entire body alights with heat at the sound of Shouto’s panting breath matching his own in the quiet of their kitchen.
He takes Shouto in. His lips are glistening from their kiss but his eyes are alive with a happiness that’s overflowing.
There’s a smile on his mouth that Katsuki’s never seen before. It’s brighter, an open joy with a tenderness that feels like it’s only for him.
“Is this real?”
Katsuki can’t stop himself from asking, from worrying about what will happen when he lets himself question the moment. There’s a quiet tremble in his voice that he can’t suppress.
Concern and understanding washes over all of the happiness that had occupied Shouto’s features moments ago, but he doesn’t say anything.
Instead, Shouto pulls him into an embrace that’s so tight that Katsuki doesn’t think there’s a point in questioning if it’s real.
“Yes,” Shouto whispers.
There’s a desperation in the single word, so strong that only Shouto could infuse the emotion into it.
Katsuki pays attention to every point of contact between them, from Shouto’s lips against his cheek to their thighs pressed together at their slotted knees. He listens to Shouto’s breathing and his own pounding heart. He listens until he’s certain that this is real.
“I love you, Shou,” he whispers, just loud enough to hear, “so fucking much.”
Shouto manages to squeeze him even tighter, as if he also needs to make sure that this moment is real.
“I love you too,” Shouto whispers, before laughing, “so fucking much.”
Katsuki can feel the confession and quiet laughter against his neck as much as he hears it. Every one of his senses are alive, confirming that this is his reality. His new reality.
“Then get the fuck out of the kitchen so I can cook,” he laughs, trying to end this so he can catch his breath, but he doesn’t manage to loosen his hold on Shouto at all.
“We’re getting takeout,” Shouto says, “you knocked all of the food onto the floor.”
Katsuki still doesn’t let go. Shouto isn’t slipping out of his grasp again.