Chapter Text
There had been a delay in the weeks leading up to when Eijirou was supposed to return home for break.
Despite it being all Mom and Dad wanted to talk about these days, Izuku still forgot the little details surrounding it. Something to do with his team, maybe — University football players always stayed at school a little longer than students who didn’t play a sport. Something like prepping for next season, maybe. It’s unfortunate timing when he does return home, though, is all that Izuku knows. He’s massaging the heel of his left foot, balancing his phone between his freckled cheek and shoulder when he hears a car pull into the lot from his bedroom.
Ochaco Uraraka is still rambling on the line, doesn’t seem to notice the commotion on Izuku’s end when he begins hobbling on one foot, keeping the sore one still in his hand as he makes his way to his window.
That is definitely Eijirou’s car.
“But like, I don’t know if I want to do something … serious. You know?” Ochaco says with a sigh. “And so I just feel bad about it. Like, Tenya is so sweet. And he’s –” she giggles. “Like, big.”
Izuku can’t help the way he smiles, despite seeing his brother step out of the car clapping his hands as he looks ahead to the front door of the two-story home. Izuku tears himself away from the window and squeezes his phone tighter, finally releasing his foot.
“Yep, you’ve mentioned that.”
“Huh? Have I?”
Izuku shakes his head.
“Try it out. If you’re thinking about him so much, he must mean something to you, right? Something more than what you guys are.”
He makes his way over to his bed again, limp very subtle, but there, and tosses himself onto the mattress, glaring at the door. Eijirou is going to knock it down any moment. He will tackle Izuku, push his face into his sweaty pit, and then drag him downstairs by his ankle as he forces Izuku to listen to all the epic highs and lows of American University football.
“Tell him you want to test the waters,” Izuku urges. “Be honest about what you’re feeling on your side. And – promise that you guys will still be friends if it all blows up in your face.”
“For both our sakes,” Ochaco agrees.
“And mine,” says Izuku. “You guys are my friends. I-I would be sad if this … ruined us. You know? I love you guys, but communication is so important. It doesn’t sound like you’re doing any of that, Ochaco.”
“Oh, and who are you? You hate feelings,” Ochaco says.
“I don’t!”
“Do, too. You and Hitoshi refuse to talk about what you guys are. You, like – shuffle and dance whenever I try bringing it up.”
“It’s a nervous habit,” Izuku murmurs. Then says hotly, “And besides, it’s different. Completely different.”
“It’s not,” Ochaco says in a sing-song voice.
“We haven’t even done anything yet, Ochaco.”
“That is a lie.”
“I mean we haven’t gone all the way. I don’t know what he wants out of it. And: frankly, I don’t even know what I want, either. And I think that’s okay for both of us right now.”
“That is also a lie. Deku: What guy hangs out with another dude in private to just kiss and talk and not want an actual relationship out of it. You guys aren’t even hooking up, and he looks forward to just spending time with you. He brings you flowers. Buys you food. Hasn’t even tried getting in your pants yet.”
“No, he has! I just — when I told him I didn’t think I was ready, he-he backed off. Hitoshi … is really a sweet guy, so.”
“Maybe he’s tip-toeing the line because he’s older,” Ochaco whispers giddily.
“He is eighteen.”
“Still older. Still so hot.”
“Ochaco.”
“I’m just saying. An older guy who wants to hang out without fucking you, and who has tried but immediately backed off when denied, without being angry at being denied? He wants more, Deku. He wants everything.”
Izuku screws up his face.
“Ochaco, that’s the bare minimum…”
“Which guys don’t give us these days, to be fair.”
“Well,” Izuku starts.
Stops, because yeah. That’s true. But even still -
“Are you re-reading that stupid romance series, again? Rewatching?”
“I plead the American fifth.”
“What was it, ‘After’? Just because Hitoshi isn’t a rich, angry, emotionally unavailable dick with tattoos and Bipolar, doesn’t mean he’s, like, in love with me. He’s just simply … good. And to be fair, comparing nearly anyone to that Harter guy, makes them look like a saint.”
“His name is Hardin!”
Izuku tilts his head, briefly, to look at the light hanging from his ceiling.
“Hardin, whatever. Listen, Ochaco. My brother just got home, he’s on summer vacation from University. I think my mom’s gonna call me down in a few minutes and force us to hug or something, so I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Wait, Eijirou’s home now? Like, your hot older brother Eijirou with his even hotter best friend? Katsuki, right? Maybe I should come over…”
“Please don’t do this to me.”
“Come to think of it, Katsuki’s like the real life Hardin. Rich. Emotionally unavailable. A dick. Tattoos. Bipolar. Hot. Really hot. Like really, really hot.”
“Ochaco.”
“Actually, I dunno how bipolar he is, though. Either way: I feel bad for his Tessa. He definitely treats her like shit. It’s crazy how I can say that with confidence when I’ve only met him on three separate occasions.”
Izuku sighs.
“He doesn’t even have just one Tessa. He’s like, a frat fuckboy.”
“No way.”
“Yeah,” Izuku laughs into his phone a little.
“I guess it makes sense, though, considering how he acts and looks. His genes are crazy, that should be illegal.”
“He brags about how many girls he was able to have sex with in like, a week. It’s good that’s like, the one thing Eijirou doesn’t find cool about him - he’s been with his girlfriend for six years now. But Kacchan is a player, and I’ve overheard his conversations on the phone with girls sometimes when he stays over. He’s so mean to them …”
Izuku glances over his shoulder, back to the window with a grimace.
“I didn’t see Kacchan get out the car with Ei, though. I can only handle taking on one of them right now, I think.”
Ochaco giggles.
“I’m glad your brother’s home again, but you –- have plans with Hitoshi in a little bit, don’t you?”
“Mhmn. In a few hours.”
“You’re not going to cancel, right? Your brother’s gonna ask questions.”
Izuku lifts his legs, resting the heels of his feet on the edge of the bed so he can lean forward and rest his chin on his knees. He smiles giddily into his bruised skin and shakes his head.
“No. I … I wouldn’t dream of canceling on Hitoshi.”
Ochaco squeals on the other end, and Izuku can practically see the way she starts kicking her legs in excitement.
“But maybe … if I play nice, my Mom will let me go? I’ll just say I’m going to Tenya’s. Last thing I need is for Eijirou to by nosy about my life right now.”
“Yeah, ‘cuz Hitoshi is older and he wouldn’t be able to trust that taboo situation, right?”
“We are not in a BL manwha, Ochaco,” Izuku deadpans. “Ei’s just gonna be overprotective about that stuff no matter what. He’s stupid like that. He’s going to want to know everything I’ve been doing since he’s been gone, and probably won’t be able to deal with the fact that I’m not fourteen anymore.”
“At least he cares. He’s really sweet when he’s not trying to crush your head in a headlock! But yeah, call me back. I think I’ll text Tenya. Get this talk over with. Just – don’t forget to let me know how your date with Hitoshi goes, okay?”
“Not a date—” the line dies before Izuku even finishes his denial.
And then, before he can even place his phone down, Izuku’s bedroom door is forced open so hard it bangs against the wall, unsurprisingly.
Izuku doesn’t even startle, entirely expecting the noise the second he saw Eijirou pull up. It's only when he realizes that Eijirou is actually standing in front of him now, that makes his heart quicken in his chest. His skin jolting with sudden anxiety, stomach dropping with a small but violent flip. Izuku slowly lowers his feet on the floor and stares wearily at his big brother.
Eijirou grins with all of his sharp teeth, fingers curling by his side.
“Hey, ‘Zuku.”
Izuku holds in his breath. He can tell where this is going in about two seconds. Izuku doesn’t brace himself more than he readies himself. He sinks his palms into the edge of where he’s sitting on his bed, and raises his feet so his toes are pressing into the floor and his heels are lifted.
Then, in an instant, Izuku is on his feet and Eijirou is surging forward, arms held out, palms open. It looks like a threat more than it looks like a plea for a hug.
“‘Zuku!!” Eijirou’s voice hits him like a solid weapon.
Izuku reactively squeezes his eyes shut and yelps, ducking under the arms Eijirou tries to trap him in. He crashes against the hallway wall, and trips over his ankles and toes as he tumbles and nearly breaks his face in just after the first step, heart thrumming in his chest, in his ears, almost as loud as his shallow breath. He manages to trip and stumble his way downstairs, makes it all the way to the end – the last step and is almost home free. Just a few more feet until he enters the dining room and sits at the table – he’s caught right in the living room, though, crashing against the side of the couch when Eijirou manages to grab him from behind and lift him from steady ground.
Izuku whines as Eijirou spins him around again and again, seemingly getting faster and swifter with every twirl. He’s dizzy by the time he’s back on land, groaning in contrast to Eijirou’s boisterous laughter. Izuku stumbles, pressing his hands against his eyes as he tries to recenter himself, refind his balance.
“Ah–w-wow! Ei, what do they have you doing on the University Football team? You’re —” Izuku raises his brows.
He presses his eyes shut for one more long second before taking in his older brother entirely, for real. His hair looks brighter than the last time Izuku had seen him, when he’d left for University. He’s definitely taller, and has already started growing into his face. It’s longer and sharper. Higher cheek bones, more pointed at his jaw, and his shoulders are broad and big along with his biceps. Not to mention his height – he is extremely tall; It’s one of the many ways he takes after Dad.
Izuku’s height, on the other hand, is one of the many ways he takes after Mom. He’s still really short for his age range, standing at five feet, two inches. His neck hurts from where he is forced to look up at his massive older brother – he looks about an entire foot taller than Izuku now.
“You grew … a lot. H-how tall are you?”
Eijirou’s grin is sharp and wicked.
“Six feet, two inches.”
Ten inches. May as well be an entire foot, really.
“But look at you! I hardly even recognize you!! You’re not as little anymore, huh?”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Izuku huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t grow that much.”
“Ohh boy, is he in his angsty phase now, Mama?” Eijirou calls toward the kitchen.
He chuckles, snatching Izuku into his chest and knocking his abnormally hard knuckles against Izuku’s skull – it was coming eventually but it doesn’t stop Izuku from feeling the irritation that gnaws at his skin. Eijirou He rubs his bruised knuckles into his curls a few times and traps a fussing Izuku into a headlock so he can’t escape.
“Ugh!! Ei!” Izuku squirms. He shouts, “Stop! Mom, tell him to stop!! He's being annoying, Mom!”
“Boys, place nice!” Mom calls from the kitchen, clearly busy with cooking. “Don’t get too dirty before dinner – it’s almost ready!”
“Haha! Not ever letting ya go little bro. You may’ve gotten a bit taller but you’re still a tiny loser to me. Ain’t that right, Katsuki? C’mon, help me hold him down!!”
Izuku’s eyes go wide and his entire body stiffens at that name.
Katsuki?? Izuku didn’t see him leave the car, though? When did he get here? Had he been here this whole time — this entire time?
Izuku starts fussing even harder, trying to tug away from his brother’s strong arms, and after enough kicking to his shins, Eijirou finally lets him go with a push and Izuku goes crashing to the floor, right on his already sore knees and directly in front of black-socked feet at the start of the long hall that leads to the main bathroom.
“Ack! Ei, you suck!!” Izuku yells. “My knees are already sore!”
He shakes out his curls and wipes at his burning face – then looks from the black socks in front of him.
Then, up.
Katsuki.
He’s standing with his arms folded over his chest, eyes a much deeper red than both Izuku’s dad and brother, and narrower, too. They’re like snake eyes, thin and piercing into Izuku’s skull.
Katsuki looks massive especially from the angle Izuku’s looking up at him from. His head has to be bent all the way back to catch his entire figure in his field of vision from where he is kneeling in front of him. Katsuki’s clearly grown, just like Eijirou, and Izuku wonders for the second time what exactly is happening on that University Football team.
Is it in the food they’re eating? The water they’re drinking? Because he — Katsuki’s so big.
He’s wearing a black tank that leaves nothing to the imagination. It’s tight enough around his frame for Izuku to take in all of the dips. The muscles and ridges and the outline of his abs, his huge pecks that look almost cartoonish. Katsuki’s muscles are bulging from where he’s got his arms folded over his chest and Izuku can see the peak of black ink clawing around the back of his shoulders, slightly curling around his right shoulder. Then more ink along the inside of his left forearm, some words tatted around his left bicep, too. Words Izuku can't read at the moment. The further up he goes, the more Izuku’s heart races as he takes in his brother’s best friend.
Katsuki’s somehow gotten even more dangerously handsome since the last time Izuku saw him.
His face is sharper, narrower. His cheeks are high and Izuku thinks he could cut himself on the entirety of Katsuki’s face because it’s so – hard, so deadly perfect. His nose is straight, brows perfectly trimmed and arched, lips sit perfectly on his face, pink and soft. His lashes are just as sharp his his brows, blond and they’re almost delicate with every blink. Izuku can spot the many rings on the lobe of Katsuki’s right ear. And the dampness of the blond strands hanging past those rings tell Izuku he’s just taken a shower or something. Is that where he was, then? How long had he been in the house?
“Knees’re sore?” Katsuki’s lips pull to the side, curling wickedly, eyes glinting with a searing heat – Izuku briefly feels like he’s surrounded by the flames of Hell. “Sore from what?”
Volleyball, Izuku wants to hiss. Volleyball and nothing else.
But his throat is aching, words stuck and thick on the back of his tongue that is suddenly dry and rough. Heavy in his mouth.
Izuku swallows and cautiously gets to his feet. He’s a little unsteady for a reason unknown to him – tries to hide the way he wobbles. Squeezes his fists at his side. He has to tilt his head all the way up to actually meet the red of Katsuki’s eyes – otherwise, he’d be staring straight at the hard muscles of his chest.
Izuku grew over the last year but some way, somehow, it looks like Katsuki grew, too. In both height and size.
Katsuki is massive.
He towers almost two heads taller than Izuku and his arms are like, three times Izuku’s size.
Katsuki’s also wearing gray sweatpants, so. This is fun.
“Ka,” Izuku swallows. Blinks. “Kacchan…”
There’s a long pause between the three people in the room.
Then, at the same time, Eijirou and Katsuki break out into sharp and loud mean laughter.
Izuku’s face burns, feels his inside boiling with the complicated feelings of having a brother like Eijirou who has a friend like Katsuki.
Here’s the thing.
Eijirou is your typical older brother: annoying, constantly sweaty, annoying, meanest on the days Izuku has the least amount of patience, annoying, and the absolute worst — but he’s somehow even worse when he’s with his best friend. Because Katsuki is obnoxious.
He is barbaric. Brutal. Bloodthirsty. He enjoys being the way he is.
And Eijirou thinks he is the coolest person alive.
This was really unfortunate for Izuku, years back when he used to look at his older brother with stars in his eyes.
Eijirou’s always been pretty enchanting, still is, and still is admirable in the way that all older siblings are to their little ones. But he was even more dazzling with Izuku’s limited perspective when he used to be eight, ten, twelve years old.
Eijirou had the coolest style. He said the coolest words, the way he acted, the things he was in to – Izuku wanted all of it. He wanted the same red lights Eijirou hung on his wall and wanted to drink the same gatorades Eijirou would chug whenever they played ball with Dad on hot summer days.
Izuku wanted his older brother to think he was as cool as Izuku thought Eijirou was.
It was an easy task, sort of. Eijirou’s manly: he thinks Izuku’s admiration for him is admirable itself, is manly. He thinks Izuku is cool for being his kid brother.
But nobody in Eijirou’s eyes, ever, was cooler than Katsuki.
Not even Red Riot from his favorite comic could compare, because Katsuki was real.
Katsuki was tangible. And he was a fearless, barbaric leader who led Eijirou to the treasures of life. The highs of high school. All the girls, the parties, the danger, the fun. All the things Eijirou wouldn’t dare reach for himself, Katsuki tugged on his wrist and held it with Eijirou to make it less scary. To make it more thrilling than it was terrifying.
When Izuku was eleven and Eijirou was fifteen, Eijirou wanted to dye his hair red.
“No way,” Izuku giggled, pressing his fingers to his lips.
He stood beside Eijirou, who sat in his black computer chair, tugging at his black strands. Izuku tugged on them with him. They were soft. A little long, hanging past his ears. His strands were the same jet black as Dad’s, but he got the straight, softness from Mom. Izuku got the green from Mom but the coarse curls from Dad.
Izuku liked them like this, liked the way they reflected both of their parents in their own ways and then crisscrossed, too. He liked the way they looked as a family, loved it.
“Mom and Dad might not be happy about it…” Izuku murmured, didn’t say anything about his own feelings. He didn’t want Eijirou to change his hair. They matched like Mom and Dad. He wanted to keep matching. “They like that I look like Mom. And that you look like Dad. But also that I look like Dad and you look like Mom. Because with mix-match. We’re both.”
“Hmm.” Eijirou shrugged. “Yeah … But. But I’m thinking … I’ll do it, anyway?”
Izuku gasped and Eijirou raised his brows at him. His expression turned sheepish and he pressed his fingers at his nape again and again, suddenly awkward.
“That crazy? Sorry.”
Izuku shrugged.
“I just think they’ll get mad,” he whispered.
“Ah. I guess, huh.”
Eijirou turned to Izuku with a strange smile.
“Did I scare ya? Sorry. Don’t worry, I won’t make ‘em mad. Don’t gotta stress.”
Eijirou did not dye his hair. Not in the seven months after that that followed.
Then, on Eijirou’s sixteenth birthday, Eijirou and Katsuki locked themselves in Eijirou’s bedroom for the night.
Izuku begged to be let in.
He kept knocking, asked again and again until he started crying. Sobbing. And despite how prone Izuku was to sobbing, it forever stayed one of Eijirou’s weaknesses.
The door swung open, Izuku was yanked inside by his wrist, and Izuku’s nose was assaulted with the pungent smell of chemicals and the smell of ammonia. When he looked up at Eijirou, his hair was soaked flat, layered with something that looked like aluminium foil, and the stringy strands were … red.
Izuku gaped.
“E-Ei!”
If anything, Izuku cried even louder than he did when he was begging to be let in to the room. His hands started trembling, upset that they wouldn’t match in that strange crisscross way anymore, sad that only Izuku would be a mixture of Mom and Dad, upset that Eijirou decided not to do it and was here with Kacchan, doing it anyway.
“No! No, M-mom and Dad…! They’re-they’ll—!”
“Shut him up, Ei,” Kacchan rolled his eyes, quickly irritated.
He was wearing black gloves and didn’t look even slightly concerned as he played with the mix in his hand.
“Don’t need your parents busting this fucking door down ‘fore we’re done.”
Eijirou waved his hand at Izuku.
“Hey, it’s fine, Izu. Damage has already started, right? We’re doin’ it.”
“But they’ll — they’ll be mad…!”
Kacchan snorted.
“Yeah, but Ei’s hair’ll be red. ‘Cuz that’s what he wants. They can scream and throw their tantrums and shit, so what? S’not gonna wash the dye out. Shit’s permanent. Fuck it.”
Eijirou grinned and shrugged.
“Exactly. Fuck it.”
Eijirou doesn’t usually swear around Izuku. But he does around Katsuki.
Looking at these two right now, Izuku knows that it’s only gotten worse. They were gone for nearly two years, off on their own, having the time of their lives in America. University is crazy over there. Eijirou told them they got a dorm together. Eijirou decided not to come home for holidays because there was either always a party going on for the holidays over there, or a state they wanted to visit – a retreat of some kind to wind down from school. During the holidays, Eijirou would set up his computer and facetime Mom, Dad, and Izuku. Izuku would sit there, hands in his lap and smile with tight lips and tell his brother school was good and he was working hard and he missed him, and that’s it.
Eijirou posted about the parties on his social media, Katsuki did, too. He would post pictures with his girlfriend, Mina. He’d film the large Christmas tree he went to see in New York City on Christmas with Katsuki. He’s post about popping champagne and skinny dipping on New Years with Katsuki. He’d post the parties he’d have in his Frat with Katsuki. The loud music, the smoke in the bathroom, the singing of the crowd, the screaming and fun. The concerts, and movies, and late night hang outs to diners and everything — he left Izuku behind and lived his life to the fullest with Katsuki for two years.
It feels strange, standing in front of his brother now, knowing he is so entirely different from the person Eijirou left. His brother seems to think differently, though.
“Was wondering if he at least got a little less annoying with his age,” Eijirou laughs, stepping past Izuku to bump shoulders with Katsuki. “Guess not, right?”
Katsuki cackles.
“Your little brother’s still such a fuckin’ nerd, Ei,” Katsuki jeers.
He shoots his wicked grin at Izuku and grabs a handful of his green curls, tugging and tugging so Izuku’s scalp starts aching.
“You’re, what, kid? Thirteen now and still callin’ me that dumbass fuckin’ nickname?
“I’m sixteen!”
“Same fucking thing, basically.”
“It’s not!” Izuku yells, hotly. He tries pushing Katsuki back with a huff as Katsuki snickers, hand moving to cover Izuku’s face. His voice is muffled by the roughness of his large hand that smells like cinnamon soap when he continues to argue, “And it’s — old habits die hard! Let! Go of me! Ei, tell him to stop!”
“This place haunted or somethin’?” Eijirou says, shooting his gaze up and looking all around the living home. “There’s this – annoying … ghostly voice I’m hearing…”
“Ugh!”
When Izuku uses all his strength to push Katsuki back and off of him, it’s that exact moment that Katsuki decides to let go. Izuku goes tumbling onto the floor again and both Katsuki and Eijirou double down and howl obnoxiously with laughter.
His eyes burn this time, lips starting to tremble against his will and Eijirou clicks his tongue.
“Don’t start crying,” his brother says.
He kneels down and holds out a hand for Izuku to take.
“Y’know we’re just messin’ with ya.”
Izuku purses his lips and takes Eijirou’s hand.
Then, is promptly thrown back down onto the floor by his shoulder, landing on his ass while Katsuki and Eijirou snicker.
“Such a fuckin’ crybaby,” Katsuki mutters.
“I know, I swear he flows like a waterfall at the tiniest things, dude.”
They turn and make their way into the dining room for dinner while Izuku furiously gets to his feet, shaking with irritation and extremely short patience. His fingers are curled so tight into his palms that they’re denting his skin. Jaw creaking from how tight he’s clenching it.
Kacchan, Kacchan, Kacchan.
That stupid name – Kacchan.
Izuku vows, right then and there, to cut it out. He won’t be making that mistake again, refuses to continue right from where they left off when Eijirou and Katsuki left for University two years ago – and be the butt of their stupid jokes.
Like Izuku said earlier: he is not the same person his brother said goodbye to. He’s not chasing after his older brother, isn’t longing for the approval of him and his cool best friend. Izuku is the cool one. He’s got friends, he’s good at his studies, good at all the clubs he’s in – people like him, and he has a life other than jumping in front of Eijirou and Katsuki, begging to be a part of whatever scheme they’re executing behind the back of their parents.
Izuku releases his fingers from where they’re curled into his fists, takes a calming breath and waits for the heat to cool from his cheeks.
His phone buzzes in his short pockets, and he quickly pulls it out to glance at the notification just as Mom calls for him to be seated for dinner with everyone. He reads and goes to answer as he takes his usual seat, and distractedly scoots himself in. The smell of fish, soup, vegetables, and mouthwatering spices fill his senses and he can’t help but smile both at the thought of a warm meal and the person who messaged him.
Hitoshi <3: Hey, Izuku
Hitoshi <3: Still on for tonight?
Hitoshi <3: I’ve got something planned, think you’ll like it 🖤
Me: hey, ofc!! :D
Me: vv excited! see you soon! <3
“Who ya textin’?”
Izuku shoots his head to the side as he clicks his phone off, heart racing a little.
Kacch — Katsuki’s not looking at him from the seat beside him, despite having asked the question.
“No one. Just – friends.”
Katsuki raises a brow as he twirls his fork between his fingers, finally glancing at Izuku out the corner of his eye. His lips stretch into a small grin, his sharp canines seemingly sparkling under the lights of the dining room.
“No phones at the table. Ain’t that a rule over here?”
Izuku blushes, squeezing his fingers around his device and attempting to shove it down between his thighs to stop the vibrations from the new messages being sent.
Katsuki’s eyes flick down to Izuku’s freckled thighs, where they’re pressed together, successfully smothering the phone and the buzzing. Thank God for Volleyball, the soreness and ache are worth it.
“Won’t say anythin’, but you owe me now.”
How, Izuku wants to hiss. What does that even mean, and what could Izuku possibly have to offer that Katsuki feels the need to steal a shallow opportunity to make use of a stupid favor?
He rolls his eyes and focuses on dinner when he sees his parents pressing their hands together to give their thanks, though. Quickly sits up and puts his hands together and closing his eyes to do the same.
For a reason unknown to Izuku, he peeks his left eye open and sees Katsuki staring back at him, hands pressed together, posture lazy, their gazes locked for a solid three seconds before Izuku jumps and squeezes his eyes shut again.
He’s probably going to need Izuku to lie for him one of these days. The amount of trouble Katsuki can get into with girls in a three month period is impressive, anything is possible. He doesn’t care to think too much on it, though.
“Itadakimasu,” Izuku says, feeling his phone vibrate between his thighs again.
Hitoshi. Right, he’ll need to find a way to sneak in the fact that he’s supposed to be hanging out with Tenya tonight. To study – that’s what he’ll say. It’s a good plan.
Izuku starts with the salmon once everyone else has reached for their first bite and pretends like he doesn’t feel the searing gaze of crimson eyes on him.