𝔸 𝔾𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕎𝕒𝕤 𝕆𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝕍.𝟚 💥𝔹𝕜𝔻𝕜💥

Chapter 40

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Fireworks

Katsuki stood by the door, fingers tapping the wooden frame, impatience thrumming through him like a live wire. He'd already changed into his yukata, and the longer he waited for Izuku, the more restless he got. He hated waiting. Hated the stillness. But there was no ignoring the footsteps approaching. The door slid open, and there he was—Izuku, draped in a blue and white kimono that almost knocked the air out of Katsuki's lungs.

Goddamn, he hadn't expected this.

The fabric hugged Izuku's frame, the intricate folds and designs pulling attention to every damn detail. His waist, the curve of his neck, the way the colors contrasted with his skin—it was all too much. Katsuki's eyes roamed over him, unable to look away, as if he was trying to burn the image into his brain. The sight of Izuku in the kimono was striking, and it left Katsuki momentarily speechless.

"Damn, you clean up nice," he blurted, the words spilling out before he could stop them. Smooth, real smooth, idiot.

He could feel the heat creeping up his neck. "I mean, I almost don't recognize you, Nerd." He tacked that on as a half-hearted save, trying to claw back some sense of control.

Izuku's smile barely touched his lips, and Katsuki saw it—saw the distance in his eyes. The shadow that still clung to him. "Thanks, Kacchan," Izuku mumbled, his voice too soft, too small. "I wanted to dress up for the occasion."

Something tugged at Katsuki. He hated seeing that look on Izuku's face, hated feeling like something was slipping out of his grasp. He reached out, his hand closing around Izuku's, squeezing it. "Oi. You good?" he asked.

Izuku gave a half-hearted nod, his smile a bit more genuine but still cracked around the edges. "Yeah, just... my mom, y'know? It's New Year's, and I can't help but feel a little down."

Katsuki pulled Izuku into his arms, burying his face in that ridiculous kimono for a second. "I know, Deku," he muttered, voice low, his lips brushing against Izuku's forehead before he could stop himself. He wasn't great with words—not for this. But actions? That, he could do.

Shit, maybe this was a bad idea.

But, as always, Izuku tried to push past the heaviness, forcing a grin like he could shove the weight aside. He stepped back, giving a little spin to show off the kimono. "Didn't think you had such style, Kacchan," he teased, the words coming out light, but Katsuki could feel the slight edge beneath them. Izuku was always doing this—trying to make things easier on him, trying to distract not only Katsuki but himself from the storm brewing underneath.

Katsuki rolled his eyes, snorting. "Of course I got style, dumbass. Just 'cause I don't parade around in it doesn't mean I don't know how to look good." He could play along too, fall back into their old rhythm, but Katsuki could see the cracks though. He always could.

Still, Katsuki yanked him back in. He didn't care if they were supposed to be heading out. Didn't care if they'd be late. The hug wasn't for show—it was to remind Izuku he wasn't alone.

Izuku's gaze softened, and Katsuki could feel those damn green eyes tracing over him, lingering on his yukata. "You look good too, Kacchan. The green suits you." Izuku said, his voice dropping to something quieter, more real. It wasn't like the usual compliments people threw around. When Izuku said it, it felt like he meant it—like he saw Katsuki, more than anyone else ever did.

Katsuki felt his pulse spike under that stare. Damn it, why did Izuku always have to do that? The way he looked at him made everything feel more real, more intense. And then, as if to drive Katsuki up the wall even further, Izuku batted his lashes—slow, deliberate, almost mocking. Katsuki rubbed the back of his neck, trying to act like it didn't throw him off. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," he muttered roughly, but it was more to hide the way his chest tightened. "Let's just go already. I'm not dealing with being late 'cause of you."