Work Text:
Katsuki had been staring at his screen for the past half an hour. Part of him wanted to just pocket the damn thing and head back inside – but he knew, realistically, that he needed to get this over with already. He’d promised Eijirou he would, and Katsuki didn’t break his promises. So, after letting out a sigh, he dialed the all too familiar number, and waited.
It rang once, twice, thrice, and another after that – and then there was the click of the pre-recorded message as he was sent to voicemail. Again. Katsuki closed his eyes at that, clenching his jaw in an effort not to break the phone with his grip. Fuck. Of course.
“Hey mom,” he said after the beep signaling the recording was starting. “It’s been a while since I last called – shit got busy with the shows and whatever. Tour’s going pretty fucking great and all, we’re on the mid-tour break right now so I get to be at my flat for a few weeks. Though I guess you don’t really give a fuck about that.”
The silence on the other end of the line, the lack of anyone actually listening hurt more than Katsuki was willing to admit. He huffed in frustration – this was stupid. He wasn’t sure why he thought it’d be different this time around, but, well, he couldn’t turn back now, could he? He hated leaving things unfinished.
“I’m pretty sure I fell in love. That’s why I called.”
His face was twisted into a scowl, he knew – but it’s not like anyone was there to see it, not at this time of the night, not in this part of the city. He glanced backward at the entrance to the building he was residing in for some time now, inside a flat that didn’t really have any personality because he couldn’t bring himself to care about it – until Eijirou at least. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he refocused on the task at hand.
“Got myself a new boyfriend. He’s fucking dope, and great, and hot and all that. He’s nice, too. Not like me,” he continued, making a face. “No clue how I scored him, but I did. And I know you think there’s no way I’m serious or whatever but I don’t think I’ve ever been this serious about someone, so just… Don’t, whatever you were thinking, don’t.”
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, dropping his head a little as he tried to defuse the tension that had taken over his body. This was stupid – the old hag wasn’t even there, and he could still hear all her comments, all the jabs she’d definitely be saying if she’d answered. He hated that.
He thought about Eijirou, the encouraging smile he’d sent his way when Katsuki had said he’d try to call his parents later that day. The way his boyfriend had moved from where he was making his stupid pancakes to hug him tight, told him it’d be okay, no matter what happened. Fuck – Katsuki could feel his eyes welling up with tears. He hated how small the situation made him feel, even without actually hearing his parents’ opinions. He hated how he still tried when they didn’t.
“It’s been a few months now – we’re planning on moving in together soon,” he hummed, one of his hands aggressively wiping off the damn tears. “Well, I am, but I’m pretty sure he’ll say yes, seeing as his shit is already all over my place all the damn time. The other day, he called me from his workplace because he couldn’t find his goddamn lunchbox, because the idiot left it at my place last Friday.”
The silence after that was heavy in a way Katsuki wasn’t sure he could explain. He didn’t really know why he’d even mentioned that anecdote, really – they wouldn’t care anyway –, but it just… felt more real. Like if he could just prove to them that it really was happening, they might react.
The line was still silent, though, and no amount of little stories would make his parents magically answer his call.
“He’s really great. He’s sweet. He doesn’t know how to cook for shit, but he makes killer pancakes, and waffles, and crêpes too.” Katsuki couldn’t help the small smile that took over as he talked about his boyfriend. “He makes them when I get anxious and shit. He always seems to just… know somehow, it’s fucking wild to me.”
They’d never noticed. They’d often made it worse, sometimes on purpose even. He sighed.
“We met at one of our gigs. He works at a bar we played in, and he helped us out when we were settling. Apparently he’d been listening to us every now and then or whatever, and he was the one who vouched to his boss that we’d bring in people.” A pause. He snorted. “We did, the bar was filled that day, barely got a minute for myself. He showed up to a bunch of our shows after that, too, because he really liked the show or something. Can’t believe I’m dating a fucking fan. Like, never thought I’d ever even have those, but apparently I do.”
“We work really well together, if that makes sense to you. He just gets me, ya know? He doesn’t mind my temper, and he knows how to phrase shit without pissing me off somehow, it’s like instinct to him. It’s like he can read me at any time, always. Or well, maybe I just have infinite patience around him? But I doubt that, he’s just fucking great, I bet he actually does know how to make it so I won’t be angry. When I’m in a bad mood, or when I’m stressed out, or when I’m tired… He always knows somehow. I don’t even need to say shit, he just does, fucking bastard.” He huffed a small laugh.
“And I fucking suck at human emotions and understanding people, but with him it’s almost easy. He says the shit he wants or needs or thinks or whatever, and I just get it. It doesn’t fucking feel like mind games with him. It’s nice. Feels natural, to pay attention to him, to make sure he’s okay. To know his favorite food, drink, blanket.”
He sighed, looking at the floor silently for a while. This blew, seriously – he hated this. He wasn’t much of a talker in the first place, even though he could always talk about Eijirou for hours, but talking to the voicemail of people who didn’t bother to ever pick up… That shit was tiring. He didn’t know why he kept trying.
And yet, at the same time he did know. He shrugged to himself and spoke again.
“I know it hasn’t been that long, trust me, but if you asked me to choose between him and the rest of the universe, I’d pick him without any hesitation. Everything else can burn for all I care. And for all it’s worth, I don’t regret any fucking thing I’ve done because it led me to him.”
It was barely above a whisper, his voice raspy and thick with emotion – but he knew the mic of his phone would’ve picked it up.
“I’m not gonna bother with trying again, so I’ll just say all this shit in the same call, and you can cope with that shit.” Katsuki looked up at the night sky, and he blinked away the stupid tears that were coming back.
“Hey dad,” he hummed. “I’m not gonna go on and on, because this shit’s already long enough. But I think you’d like him, if you met.”
“I think you’d have a blast, that you’d get along. Maybe even be impressed that I got my hands on someone like him. That you’d be impressed with how well we work together as a couple, and that you’d be impressed with the efforts I’m putting into making sure this, he and I, making sure we fucking work.” He said, forcing himself to speak slowly to avoid his voice filling with angry venom. “And I know you fucking don’t care, but I do, so I’m telling you. I think if you tried, you’d be proud, actually.”
Katsuki thought back to the albums he’d sent them, each of them filled with songs written from a place haunted by pain, anger, and unhealthy coping mechanisms inherited from the two fuckers who couldn’t be bothered to reply to him. He couldn’t help but wonder whether they’d listened to them, whether they’d taken the time to read the letters that came with.
He kinda hoped they did – but he also wished they didn’t. Because he wanted them to hear how successful he was. Because he didn’t want them to know what was in his heart. Because they should have to face how badly they fucked him up and how much they lost. Because they didn’t fucking deserve to know shit.
“I don’t know if you’ve actually listened to any of my shit, our shit actually – because the band’s not just me. The others are fucking great, they deserve to be heard. I deserve to be heard, too, but you never bothered with that before so why would you start now, eh? But whatever – if you have, I’m sure you’ve figured out which ones are mine.” He tsk-ed, before continuing. “And if you have, I’m sure you made a point to judge all the fucking things I’ve said in them, ‘bout my exes and my one night stands, ‘bout my pastimes, ‘bout my fucking diet and exercising and whatever the fuck you’ve felt like criticizing.”
“But honestly, I don’t give a flying fuck about your thoughts, so just. Don’t bother. Just know that he’s not like the others I’ve been with. He’s here to last, this one.”
Katsuki bit his lower lip, and took a deep breath – in for 4 seconds, hold for 7, out for 8. By the time they listened to this (if they ever did), he wouldn’t have to hear their opinion. It was fine – they didn’t want to pick up, so he didn’t have to put energy into pretending they did.
“I know he’s here to last. You know how I know it? He makes me feel. He says my name like it’s a melody. He smiles and it lights up the room. Whenever we’re apart, I have my phone within grabbing distance so I can text him as soon as I get a few seconds for me, because when I don’t talk to him for too long, it’s like I’m missing something. Fuck, I even got him a special ringtone so I know to pick up whenever he calls – and I fucking hate phone calls, you know that just as much as I do, but I never miss a single one with him. Can you fucking believe that?”
“He makes me feel safe, dad. I finally found out what home feels like, and it’s him,” – and god, Katsuki heard his voice crack at that and he had to take a second to pull his shit back together. – “He feels like home.”
“I don’t know if I’ll try calling again. I didn’t really want to try calling today, to be honest with you – he told me I should at least try one more time though.” He scoffed. “You hear that, mom? Your son didn’t fucking want to try again with you, after all these years of it being one sided, and yet he did, because his fucking sunshine of a boyfriend said he should give it one last try, even if it was just for closure. And neither of you picked up, despite being at home today, because I made sure I picked the day between your fucking fashion shows, because you fuckers always headed home whenever you had a single day off.”
“You know why he wanted me to try one last time? Because I told him I was sorry he couldn’t meet you. Because I told him I wished I could offer him the fucking ‘introduction to the parents’ bullshit he wants to do with his folks, and I felt fucking awful about not being able to do that, because I didn’t fucking want him to feel like I wasn’t serious about us. Because I fucking told him how I wished I wasn’t as fucked up in the head as I was because of you, and he deserved someone who could be okay with him. And that asshole, he said he understood, because the motherfucker saw me try to call you every other month, since we became friends, then after we got together, and he knew you never picked up – even though I keep pretending you did to anyone who fucking asks, because I’m fucking pathetic like that, and my pride doesn’t let me face the fact that you don’t fucking care. You don’t care, and even though I fucking know that, I’m still here hoping you might someday.”
“But you didn’t pick up. You didn’t bother, just like I’m pretty sure you don’t fucking bother to listen to these. But you know what, fuck you – fuck you. Rot in hell for all I care. I’m done trying. I’m done putting in energy to try and reach out when you so clearly don’t give a crap about what your only child is doing, just because he wasn’t following your expectations – just because despite all your efforts, he didn’t fit the mold you tried shoving him in.”
“I moved the hell away without planning to ever come back, I followed the dumbasses across the country knowing you would beat the shit out of me for it if I ever tried to show up again – and I was right to do that. So fuck you, I’m not apologizing for shit. I found a home, and it’s not with you. He makes me happy – and I know you don’t care, but I do, I really do.”
“Goodbye mom, dad. I hope the rest of your life sucks. I’ll make sure mine doesn’t.” And with that, he hung up.
He was out of breath. Or maybe he was on the verge of a panic attack and hyperventilating, he wasn’t sure? But he stood there, on the sidewalk in front of the entrance of his building, trying to regulate his breathing slowly – staring at his phone screen, showing his call history. Opening the last called number’s contact, he changed it from “home” to a single last name, and it felt good. It felt like a liberation.
Katsuki wanted to fucking cry. He wasn’t sure whether it was good or bad – but he could feel it in his stomach, in his chest, in his throat, a sob that made him feel like a cable about to snap.
He locked his phone and put it back in his pocket quickly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He raised his head to face the sky, opening his eyes again to stare at the empty night sky from the city – and he didn’t let the tears fall just yet. He didn’t want to cry in the open. He looked back at his building and sighed, before walking towards the door. He unlocked it and climbed the many stairs to his floor on automatic. He unlocked the door to his flat, took off his shoes once he was inside. The click of the door closing felt like the finality of the end of his message, and he flinched slightly.
“Kats?”
And like a cold breeze in the too-warm summer air, Eijirou’s voice cut through the fog that had been settling since Katsuki had hung up.
Katsuki turned around and was met with his boyfriend’s face, his eyes alight with so much… love? Whatever it was that lit up Eijirou’s eyes when he looked at Katsuki. Whatever it was that probably lit his own eyes up whenever he looked back, as well, with the way his boyfriend smiled at him in return. It was almost blinding sometimes – right now, it just felt like a lighthouse in the middle of a storm.
“How did the call go…?” Eijirou asked softly, his tone so gentle, as if talking to something very fragile – and yet, the sweetness wasn’t enough and Katsuki still felt something in him break somehow.
He was pretty sure everything he felt must’ve been showing on his face, because the next thing he knew, Eijirou was pulling him into a hug, cradling him close to his chest like he was precious, despite Katsuki feeling as tense as a thread about to snap. It was all-encompassing, and he melted immediately. He buried his face in Eijirou’s neck, his arms wrapping automatically around his boyfriend and his hands tightening on the back of his shirt. He took in a shaky breath, and when he tried to exhale, a sob tore through the action. Eijirou’s hold tightened at that and a kiss was placed softly on Katsuki’s temple.
Out of everything about Eijirou, it was the way he could always comfort him with such small actions that Katsuki was the most impressed by. That kiss, just like a dozen little things that he did all throughout the day, was like a light in the middle of the darkest night, a point to zero in on – just like the way Eijirou always placed Katsuki’s keys on the counter in a specific spot for Katsuki to find when their schedules didn’t align, or the way he hummed under his breath without noticing when he was working on a drink, or the way he stuck his tongue out when he focused, or the way he took a hold of and then rubbed small circles with his thumb on the back of Katsuki’s hand when they watched a movie on the couch. He did all of these things and more on pure instinct, always, and he didn’t even realize how safe it felt to Katsuki. It was like Eijirou had been made entirely to take Katsuki’s heart and let it heal, let Katsuki heal. And fuck, if that didn’t make Katsuki want to become the best boyfriend in the goddamn entirety of space and time, because Eijirou deserved the fucking best of the best and nothing less.
They stayed there, standing in the entryway, holding onto each other like lifelines, for a frankly unknown amount of time – to Katsuki at least. Then, with a soft hum, Eijirou shifted slightly so he could navigate them to the couch while still holding the blond. Katsuki let him maneuver them, the tears rolling down his cheeks probably soaking Eijirou’s shirt – and god, he’d put pencil eyeliner on his eyes today, hadn’t he? Fuck, he hoped there wouldn’t be too many stains, this was one of Eijirou’s favorite shirts, even though Katsuki often joked it was an offense to his sight.
His boyfriend sat them down on the couch, and with a frankly embarrassing amount of ease, moved Katsuki into his lap, wrapping himself around him protectively. Katsuki felt a kiss being pressed to his hair once again, and he let out another sob at the softness of the gesture. How had he lucked out this much?
The couch was definitely more comfortable than the entrance hall. Eijirou eventually turned on the TV, putting on a stupid movie they’d seen already, and Katsuki felt himself drift away, still awake but not quite there anymore. His crying had stopped somewhere during the time it took for him to anchor himself back to reality, and he realized distantly that Eijirou was rubbing patterns on his back and commenting on the movie. He focused on his boyfriend’s voice for a little bit, before shifting to look up at him. The other glanced at him and offered one of those big full-of-sunshine grins that only he knew how to do.
Katsuki felt the way his lips twitched slightly to offer somewhat of a small smile in return. And judging from the way Eijirou’s eyes lit up, he spotted it as well.
“I love you.”
Katsuki winced a little at how raspy his own voice sounded. It was usually pretty scruffy sounding already, a mix of how he’d dealt with his voice dysphoria, how T affected his vocal cords, and how many concerts and nightclubs he’d been screaming in since forever, but this wasn’t the same. This was a crying kind of raspy, unused kind of raspy, and he didn’t like it one bit.
“I love you too, Kats,” Eijirou replied, his voice quiet and adoring, “so much.”
His boyfriend looked at him like he’d hung the moon again, and it was only the months of having to deal with it that allowed him not to have to look away from how blindingly loving this was. Eijirou’s hand made its way to Katsuki’s cheek, cupping his face softly, and Katsuki was helpless to resist kissing his boyfriend’s palm – how could he resist doing it, when it was right there for him to kiss? He was rewarded by a flustered noise and giggle from Eijirou, and it was like the world was right again, suddenly.
This time, when they lost track of time again, it was a good thing. Yeah, yeah, Katsuki knew his therapist would point out that dissociating after something this big, this linked to trauma, was normal and good, a factory reset of sorts – but it wasn’t good, it didn’t feel good. This did though. This, losing themselves in a bubble of their own creation, focused entirely on each other, this was the best kind of pause from the world.
They didn’t speak much, entirely too focused on looking at each other. Which was funny, because Eijirou didn’t really do the whole focusing thing, and Katsuki couldn’t stay put to save his life, but it was like they were each other’s exception. Just like they didn’t need words to know the other loved them, or that this was a reassurance, a promise to always be able to count on each other no matter what. Katsuki didn’t need Eijirou to say anything to know that this was Eijirou telling him he’d catch him when he fell, always – and Eijirou didn’t need Katsuki to say anything to know that this was Katsuki telling him he trusted him to be there, that he trusted he didn’t need to put up his walls around him. They’d probably say it later, out loud, to make sure, but right now, they didn’t need to.
At some point the movie ended, and Katsuki and Eijirou stared as the credits rolled on the screen. Katsuki leaned his head on Eijirou’s shoulder and sighed softly.
“They didn’t reply. I left them a message though.” Katsuki muttered after a couple of seconds, then added more quietly. “I told them it was the last one.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
There was a minute of silence after that and Eijirou kissed Katsuki’s temple softly.
“What else did you tell them?”
“I told them about you.”
“Oh really? Talking about me a lot, are you?” Eijirou teased lightly – but Katsuki could hear how genuinely delighted his boyfriend was.
“Yes, you dumbass. You’re like, my favorite fucking person, of course I talk about you a lot.”
Eijirou giggled at that, and squeezed his shoulder softly.
“I told them about us, and how we met. ‘Bout how awesome you are, and how lucky I am to have you – shut it, yes I am – and how I wanna make it last with you.”
“Awww, babe!” Eijirou peeped.
“Shut it, Shitty Hair! Don’t get mushy on me,” he huffed, but his voice was too fond for either of them to be fooled.
He went quiet for a few seconds, and Eijirou hummed softly. One of his hands found its way to Katsuki’s hair, and threaded through it gently. Katsuki leaned into the hand and smiled slightly, before speaking again.
“I told them this was closure for me. That you told me to call them because it was hurting me not to, and that this was closure. That this was my last attempt, and that I wouldn’t spend more energy on them anymore,” Katsuki blurted out. “I told them that they’d like you if they tried, and that I was happy. That I had found a home.”
Katsuki didn’t need to look at Eijirou to know what the other was feeling – the hitch in his breath was enough to tell him all he needed. Eijirou tightened his hold on him, and they both relaxed immediately.
“I’m glad,” Eijirou whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears – happy ones. “I’m so glad, Kats.”
“Me too.” Katsuki whispered back before clearing his throat slightly. “I told them about you, and about us, and I told them they could shove it.”
That got a laugh out of Eijirou, and Katsuki grinned – this counted as a win.
“I’m proud of you.” Eijirou’s words hung heavy in the silence. “You’ve made a life for yourself. You’ve made your own family – don’t say I’m wrong, I see how you are with Jirou, Yaoyorozu and Kaminari. Them and you, you’re family.”
Katsuki snorted softly but kept quiet. He owed it to Eijirou to at least let him finish his thoughts – his boyfriend always found that words were never enough for all his feelings, and that led to him rambling to put the right words out.
It was sweet. It was comforting.
“You’ve come so far, and you did it on your own. And I know it’s not… I know I’m not them, but I’m proud of you. I’m proud of the steps you’ve taken to get better, too – I’ve seen you start therapy, I’ve seen you open up, I’ve seen you start to smile more. And I’m just so incredibly proud of all of this. Of all of you.”
Oh.
Katsuki let the words sink in for a few seconds. Then he turned his head to look at his boyfriend. His magnificent boyfriend, who was looking at him with the shiniest eyes in the world, filled to the brim with happy tears (and screw you, no Katsuki’s eyes weren’t in the same state, shut it). His amazing boyfriend, who somehow still didn’t seem to realize that Katsuki valued his opinion more than quite literally anybody else. His wonderful, sweet, precious boyfriend who somehow didn’t seem to realize that Katsuki had done all of these efforts to be better because he wanted to be the very best he could be, just because Eijirou deserved at least that – because Eijirou deserved the fucking universe kneeling before him.
Well.
“I did it because of you, you know. Not– Not all of it, of course, some of it you weren’t even in my life for, but…” He shrugged before continuing. “The whole getting better, and therapy, and smiling. That was you.”
“Really?”
The little teasing edge was back in Eijirou’s voice, and Katsuki snorted softly.
“Yes, dumbass,” he huffed. “Wanted to be better so I could have a shot.”
“Oh, I’m flattered! But honestly, I would’ve said yes no matter what, have you seen yourself? I was head over heels from the moment I saw you in the backrooms. You could’ve punched me in the face as you asked me out, I’d have said yes.” Eijirou said, grinning.
“And that’s on you not having any self-preservation nor self-esteem, asshole – but I thought, and still think for the record, that you deserved the best. So I just… had to be it.”
Eijirou huffed amusedly and bumped his head against Katsuki’s own softly. That gesture had no right feeling as loving as it did.
“And I knew I could be it, that I could be the fucking best there was. I just… hadn’t seen the point anymore. But, for you, I wanted to put in the work. I wanted to get better for you.”
“You’re doing great, then. Best boyfriend I could ever ask for.”
“Even with the shitty trauma, and the shitty temper?” Katsuki joked.
“Hey, I love your temper!” his boyfriend exclaimed.
“You have terrible taste,” he deadpanned.
“Maybe you just don’t understand what good taste is.”
Katsuki laughed quietly at that, and Eijirou’s smile widened just a little more.
“I don’t need their approval. I mean, it’d be nice, I guess, but at this point, I think it’d just piss me off to know they agree with who I am now,” he hummed softly. “You’re right, you’re not them, but honestly, good, because I care more about what you think than anything they have to say.”
A pause.
“Even though you have an atrocious fashion sense,” he added with a sly grin.
Eijirou’s offended gasp and expression of mock offense was the highlight of Katsuki’s day. He rolled his eyes, trying to keep his grin to turn into a wide grin, which worked for about half a second before he squeaked in surprise as Eijirou’s index finger poked him in the ribs. He scoffed and shifted to face his boyfriend, immediately tackling him, which got a laugh out of the redhead. The play fight lasted a few minutes, filling the flat with laughter – and Katsuki loved every second of it. In the end though, Eijirou asked for a truce, grinning up at his boyfriend as Katsuki snickered softly, and they agreed they could pick this up another day.
Staring down at his boyfriend brought Katsuki’s mind back to the black makeup stains on Eijirou’s shoulder. The shirt he was wearing was an obnoxious shade of orange for ¾ of the way, the last quarter being a large black strip on the left shoulder side – it had the old first logo of their band on the front, with the awful lettering they used to use, which was partly gone due to time and too many washings. The shirt was baggy on Katsuki, but fit Eijirou without being too tight, which was the only reason Katsuki hadn’t thrown the damn thing away when they’d unpacked the old boxes Katsuki had left forgotten in the far corner of his closet.
Eijirou had taken a liking to it immediately. Katsuki didn’t get it, at all, because he hated their first merch – the rest of the band had this sort of fond nostalgic feeling when they talked about it, but he couldn’t help but remember how he was at the time, and wonder why the hell none of the fuckers had dropped him already. This shirt was a remnant of a bad time, and the bagginess it had was a reminder of something even less nice, but Eijirou had stated that this was about the time he’d first listened to them, and that he loved the color. Katsuki had snorted because he remembered that he’d picked that one just because his mom had declared that this shade of orange was the worst shade she’d ever had to wear at one of her modeling gigs.
Over the years, the shirt had become less of a sour topic, as he’d associated the damn thing more and more to Eijirou. Now, instead of wanting to burn the shirt because of when it had been made, he just wanted to burn it because the shade was awful, which was an improvement. And he didn’t do it, because Eijirou had admitted to it being his comfort shirt after Bakugou showed up at his door unannounced after a show and went actually speechless over his newly acquired boyfriend sporting that stupid shirt that Eijirou had said he’d thrown out after they found the box.
And now, Eijirou’s favorite shirt had black stains on the shoulder, from the stage makeup Katsuki wore. And yes, it could be washed, but he knew Eijirou was saddened by the logo coming off, and washing the thing so often wasn’t helping at all.
“I’m sorry about your shirt,” he blurted out.
Eijirou blinked at him owlishly, before following where Katsuki’s gaze was directed at, and then looked back at him with a fond smile.
“Eh, it’s fine, s’just a shirt.”
“Yeah, but it’s your favorite. And the logo’s coming off enough on its own already.” Then he added more quietly, “I don’t wanna speed up its end.”
Eijirou made a low hum at that, watching him with that crooked smile he had when he was trying not to grin. It was stupid, because he wore his emotions so visibly on his face, but the effort was cute.
“Then I guess you guys are gonna have to make new ones like that.”
“Absolutely not, they look awful.”
“Awn, c’mon babe! They’re so manly!”
“That orange is an offense to all the fashion gods that ever existed, we are never putting a shirt like that out ever again! And the lettering, don’t even get me started.”
“Awwww, not even to make me happy?” Eijirou pouted.
“You’re not nearly cute enough to pull the puppy dog eyes, dumbass.” Katsuki scoffed, snorting at his own lie.
Eijirou giggled at that and pulled him down crashing into his chest. Katsuki smiled fondly, and hummed.
“We should go to bed.”
“Yeah, we should,” Eijirou mumbled – but the hand that went to play with Katsuki’s hair didn’t seem to agree.
“Your back’s gonna kill you tomorrow if we sleep like that,” Katsuki mumbled, already feeling his eyes closing.
“Mhm, probably,” his boyfriend hummed. “But comfy.”
Katsuki let out an amused huff and closed his eyes. Within a few minutes, they were both out like a light.