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Countless little dots painted pale, scarred skin, willingly displayed to be admired in the languor of the night. Shouto could occasionally spot shimmering glitter lost in the sea of white, sprinkled there the night before and forgotten by water and alcohol. He didn’t dare run his fingers in those spots, afraid of pulling off the sparkles that decorated Katsuki’s serene face.
Katsuki, always tense, always angry, always explosive, looked like an angel with his eyebrows relaxed and his face at ease, breathing deeply and snoring softly. Shouto should’ve been asleep, but he couldn’t stop admiring the angelic appearance of the boy lying before him—long, blond lashes creating such a beautiful shadow on Katsuki’s cheekbones that Shouto found it hard to look away, distracted by the elegance of a face surely sculpted by gods. He traced along the pale, rough scars that spread across his defined jaw and smooth cheeks and felt breathless with the heat emanating from soft skin. He touched Katsuki gently, with care, with love, with tenderness—the last thing he wanted to do was to wake him.
Despite his exhaustion, Shouto smiled. He was on the verge of feeling overwhelmed by the emotions swirling in his chest—happiness, safety, love, helplessness, surrender. After all these years of longing for Katsuki to be by his side, consumed by the burning desire to touch him, hug him, kiss him, it seemed unreal finally having him in his arms. His heart was too full, overflowing with love he thought he could never feel.
And to think that all it took for them to get together was one too many shots of tequila and a confession shouted through tears… He had to send Hanta a fruit basket later—he’s not sure he would have attended the party if not for his insistence. He’d have missed drunk Katsuki and his puffy, gorgeous red eyes. He wouldn’t have kissed his tear streaks. He wouldn’t have followed him home. He wouldn’t be lying beside him. He wouldn’t be calling him his boyfriend.
Hours that felt like minutes passed before Katsuki even stirred, but then he groaned, sighed, and sluggishly blinked his eyes open. His scarlet red eyes stared at Shouto, intense despite the drowsiness, as though he was trying to uncover the secrets buried deep within Shouto’s soul. They could all be his, for all Shouto cared—he would strip himself bare if Katsuki asked.
"Shouto..." he whispered, his voice rough and groggy from sleep. Shouto felt a shiver run down his spine, unable to resist the impulse to kiss Katsuki’s forehead.
"What is it, angel?" he replied. With mere centimetres separating them, Shouto saw the intense flush that spread through Katsuki’s pale skin, the remnants of silvery glitter contrasting even more with the blush on his cheeks. Katsuki grunted, trying to hide his face against Shouto’s neck, embarrassed, but Shouto didn’t let him, holding his jaw and leaning in, joining his lips with his. Katsuki sighed into the kiss and Shouto felt elated, overcome by happiness. Katsuki forcefully turned his face and scoffed, feigning annoyance and making Shouto kiss his cheek instead, but Shouto could feel the smile forming against his lips.
"Go to sleep, fucker," Katsuki said, positioning them so Shouto laid his head against Katsuki’s bare shoulder.
Shouto chuckled softly, whispering his agreement. Slowly, they both drifted to sleep, one clinging to the other, not knowing where one ended and the other began.
Katsuki was there with Shouto. Shouto was there with Katsuki. Katsuki loved Shouto. Shouto loved Katsuki. It was the reciprocity he had always dreamed of.
Katsuki was everything Shouto had always dreamed of.
His angel in disguise.