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It's a gentle touch that first wakes him, skimming against the curve of his jaw, long before the soft, warm glow of the early sun streaks through the curtains and meets his eyes. The warm hand against his face trails up, above and beyond the narrow of his temple, over his ears and back down his nape. The motion is repeated a couple more times, like a wave rising and falling back from the shore, and Katsuki wonders why Izuku even bothers to wake him up like this when it feels like all he wants to do is lull him back to sleep.
“Wake up.”
He opens his eyes blearily, scrunching his nose as he waits for his vision to clear, and when it does green is what he sees–his hair, his eyes, the corners of it crinkling, two lines that have started appearing in recent times. Izuku looks down on him from above, a soft, gentle smile gracing his lips in greeting.
I want this to last forever.
Not the place, nor the time, but just that particular moment, when the sun hasn't quite made it across the east yet and the birds haven't started chirping. No blasting alarms, no emergency calls, time only to be spent suspended in the rare, quiet hours of the morning.
Izuku tilts his head and waits patiently, always so patient, when Katsuki grumbles his greeting back unintelligibly, heavy with sleep. Izuku’s response is to lean down and plant a kiss on his temple, and then another one on his jaw. As he leans away Katsuki follows, chasing him, pecking at his neck, and Izuku laughs, ticklish. A familiar hand runs up and down the expanse of his chest to his shoulder affectionately, gripping him by the arm and hauling his resisting body up for an embrace.
Then, loathe as he is to admit it, the promise of a quiet morning breaks.
Izuku continues tugging at him, urging him to get up. He protests. It’s still early, the sun has barely risen, can’t they stay in for just a little longer?
“Noooo, we have to go. I want to get there before it starts to get too hot.” Izuku whines against his neck. “C’mon, you promised.”
“You’re making me regret that I did,” is his only reply.
He’s still half asleep by the time he gets ready, eyes half-closed as he brushes his teeth and tries to tame his wild, unruly hair. He gives up, figures he can wear a hat, and walks out of the bathroom to look for clothes. He finds a fresh set already waiting for him by the foot of the bed– a baby blue polo, white shirt, and a comfortable pair of baggy beige pants. He doesn’t remember setting it the night before, doesn’t even remember mentioning it, but it’s already there, pressed and ready to be worn. Izuku's prepared it for him; chosen with a sort of familiarity that can only come from years of mornings spent waking up next to each other and standing side by side as they get dressed.
When he steps out of the bedroom and enters the kitchen he sees Izuku, in his brown overalls and pale yellow shirt, bopping his head as he prepared breakfast, humming to the tune of a pop song that Katsuki doesn’t know. He looks young like this, bright and round and childish, like he’s sixteen years old all over again, even though it’s been more than twenty years since they'd graduated from U.A. and he’s grown nearly a foot since then. He still manages to look cute. Or maybe its because he hasn't quite gotten rid of all his baby fat.
Katsuki slowly creeps forward, practiced footsteps barely making a sound as it slides across the smooth, tiled floor. He makes a beeline for the delicious cuts of breaded pork sitting on the counter. It’s right next to Izuku, but with the way he is turned, too busy packing the sandwiches for their picnic, there’s no way he’ll notice Katsuki, not until it’s too late. He’s almost to the finish line, just a few inches from the prize, when Izuku’s hand swiftly rains down on his outstretched arm and swats him away, his head never turning while he does so.
“You gotta be lying about danger sense, I swear,” Katsuki hisses under his breath as he nurses his stinging arm, and he watches as Izuku slowly turns around, two wrapped sandwiches on both hands, his tongue stuck out and his eyes crinkling with amusement.
Katsuki drags a chair out and starts browsing his phone while he sips his coffee, checking for messages. Izuku’s still packing a few more things inside a little yellow lunch bag- bottles of water, candies, energy bars and more snacks-and gets a little worried furrow in his brow when he sees him thumbing through the morning news.
“Something up?”
Katsuki shakes his head.
“Great.” Izuku beams at him, relieved. “We’ve got the day to ourselves, then.”
Half the town’s still asleep by the time they get to the station and, with their luck, they hop onto a nearly deserted train. They appreciate the quiet, the time to themselves that they usually never get anymore; and though there’s a bunch of empty seats they could’ve taken so they could have a little space from each other, Izuku remains plastered to his side. By the time they reach Shimoichiguchi Station, they’re the only ones left in the carriage, and they bid the station master goodbye as they walk towards the exit, heading for the bus to Kurotaki village.
The village of Kurotaki is unassuming. The last time they visited was nearly twenty years ago on a safety work program in their third year of high school. It’s a quaint little farming town on the south western part of the country, nestled between strips of farmlands and mountains and lakes, stretching for miles so much so that a steady blur of green was the only thing he could see while looking out of the bus.
It is quiet, underpopulated, and underdeveloped, not the kind of town Katsuki could see himself living in. Izuku wouldn’t survive there either, not enough adventure and too far away from their friends. But somehow, for some reason, there they were again.
Katsuki never thought he’d be coming back, but then again he also never thought that Izuku would wake up one night and suddenly remember, god knows how, that they’d once dug a hole under a barren tree in the middle of the forest, filled a box with all sorts of knick knacks and junk, and buried it there. Katsuki thought it was cute, at the time, and didn’t think much of it. He’d only wanted to humor the boy he’d just started dating after all and simply wanted to be in on everything that fancied him. He didn’t think he’d be suffering from his poor decisions nearly two decades into the future, getting whacked in the face one night while Izuku frantically shook him awake, delirious with remembrance.
It was a set of unopened hero trading cards, Kacchan! It must cost a fortune now. I think the pack even had a rare shiny. No, yes, it definitely did and and and! It’s unopened! I think I remember! We have to go and get it back.
Are you serious? What the- what time is it? Christ. Izuku, it’s fucking three in the morning.
We have to! Please, please, Kacchan, let’s go and get it. You remember it, right? You had some stuff there, too. We said we’d go back the next year but we never did. Please? It’s like a time capsule now. Isn’t that cute? It’s been so long! Please?
Fucking- fine. Fine! I’ll check my schedule later. Don’t wake me up again or I’m changing my mind.
Thank you! Thank you! I love you.
Whatever. Love you, too.
And so, because he was absolutely besotted with the nerd, he'd went ahead and booked tickets on their next joint day off.
(And maybe– just maybe–because he'd gotten a little bit interested in it himself the more he thought of it as the days passed.)
It’s takes another bus ride and a few more minutes of walking through fields until they finally reach the foot of the mountain, the size of it grand and daunting to any novice traveler. Katsuki is no stranger to traversing uneven terrain, and thinking about the journey ahead does not scare him. He's always liked hiking. Izuku would rather spend his days indoors, but he would never pass up an opportunity to get some limited hero merchandise.
He’s too excited about the box. He’s even jumping as he walks.
“Do you remember what you put in there?”
Katsuki’s reply is quick. “No idea.”
“Well, I think I remember we won a few festival games the other day before that,” Izuku reminds him. “That’s where I got the cards. And you won something too, but you didn’t like it. Some kind of charm? I don’t know if you put it in there. Did you?”
“Don’t know. And be patient. We’ll know when we get there anyway," he says and turns to Izuku, just in time to see him trip over a stone. "Tsk. Watch your step.”
Izuku merely waves it off and continues skipping ahead, thrumming with energy.
Katsuki decides to play with him.
With a sly twist in his face that tells just about anyone that he’s up to no good, he wonders out loud, "What if the box isn't even there anymore?"
Izuku pauses, turns, and levels Katsuki with a stare.
"Kacchan," he deadpans. "You wouldn't be coming all the way out here with me if you really think that's a possibility."
"I'm just saying." Katsuki shrugs. "Could've been washed away by the rain or something, heard this area's pretty known for landslides. Don't know if I'm right but Froggy went up here the last monsoon for a rescue operation."
"That was in Nagasaki! Don't try to scare me," Izuku counters. "I was literally strapped to her back with her tongue while we scoped the area."
"Eh, must've mixed it up... but who knows, right," Katsuki continues with an impish grin. "Could've been dug out by some brats playing around... or some annoying tourists. Hell, its probably worm food by now. It's been- what, twenty years? I wouldn't be surprised if they bulldozed the area and planted a 7-11 right there."
There's a beat of silence. Izuku frowns. “In the middle of a mountain?”
“You’d be surprised, love,” Katsuki teases. "You heard about that old inn they turned into a Starbucks?"
Even if the box isn’t there anymore, Katsuki knows that the trip would've been worth it either way. The mountain, even from a distance, looks beautiful in the spring. Dots of green and yellows and pinks. The cicadas are loud, not as loud as in the summer in June, but the ringing fills the air as they walk in the early springtime of April. The air is fresh, and the both of them know enough not to take it for granted, gulping in lungfuls as they revel in its untainted state. He knows that the sun in Nara is the same as the sun in Tokyo, but even though it's beating down on them at the height of day, the walk isn't as bad as when they spent it patrolling through the blistering heat of the busy capital streets.
At the foot of the mountain is where a small creek ends, and Izuku excitedly tugs at his arm, saying that he remembers it. Katsuki wracks his brain for a memory, but he still doesn't remember much from the trip they’d taken the last time.
Of course, how could he remember, when the only thing he remembers from the whole trip is the time they’d spent canoodling in the forest, one of those times right against that barren trunk, during their break hours. There was only so much he could store in his brain after all, and the feeling of Izuku’s warm body against his, drunk on young love and requited feelings, seemed more valuable to keep.
They walk alongside each other as they make the ascent, the heat starting to get to them. After thirty minutes of the long walk with the stream as their guide, Izuku begins to breathe a little too loudly for comfort, fanning himself and hissing under his breath, feeling the weight of each step taken as his knees ached and soles stung. It only makes Katsuki's own feet start stinging.
"Don't tell me you're getting tired now?"
"Might just be getting too old for this after all," Izuku wheezes. "Come on, I spend half the week at a desk. I don't nearly get as much exercise as you. Give me a break."
Katsuki flings a pebble at Izuku's shin with his foot. "Stop talking like you're headed for a retirement home. You just benched two cars last Saturday."
"That wasn't me," Izuku complains, "that was the suit!"
They finally reach the source of the creek, a small stream, and Izuku celebrates, because apparently it means they’re halfway there. It looks cold and refreshing, and the way it continuously flows downhill seems like a taunt, only exacerbating the heat Katsuki feels raging from underneath his skin. He grumbles, wondering why Izuku didn’t mention the stream, because if he did then they would’ve packed extra clothes to go for a little swim.
He crouches down beside it either way, skimming his hand over the cold surface, feeling it wet and cool against his heated palms. When he gets up, the breath from his lungs gets knocked out as he careens over the edge, feeling surprised and shocked and betrayed at the heavy shove he felt on his back just a few seconds before.
“Fuck-!”
He screams, flinging his arms wildly, the familiar crackle in his palms already gearing up to break his fall.
It’s barely three feet tall, but the drop feels like a hundred, but it doesn’t happen, no, because there’s a tight grip on his arm that serves as his lifeline between safety and looking like a wet dog on the walk back to the station. The heat in his palms defuse as he swiftly turns his head at the perpetrator, and Izuku cackles heartily at his expression, his voice ringing loudly throughout the forest and sending the birds in the trees to flight. Katsuki storms through a rain of curses that he neither means nor, after long years of understanding him, does Izuku take to heart.
Izuku pulls him back up, kisses him wetly on the cheek, and utters an empty apology.
"Sorry," Izuku grins at him sheepishly. "Payback for trying to scare me earlier."
"You're an idiot." Katsuki slams his palm on Izuku’s stomach and bites his jaw in retaliation, lingering just a second longer because of the way it causes Izuku’s breath to hitch, and then pinches his thigh and grins when he shrieks. "You're lucky that I love you or you'd be swimming on the way down."
"I know." Izuku kisses him again and tugs him back. "I really am."
They clutch their hands together, scarred arms pressed against each other, and continue on.
A few minutes later, the once steady wind finally decides to have mercy on them and blows harshly in their direction, along with it the scent of a fresh spring breeze of recently bloomed flowers, and the fallen petals of about a hundred trees from above. Izuku gasps, jumping wildly when he sees the first few blots of pink, and gets a renewed energy. He guns for it, following the trail of fallen leaves and petals, and Katsuki watches his back as he lets go of his hand, silent as the distance between them only grows.
It's not often that he sees him running ahead, and the few times that he's done so has always left Katsuki feeling winded-both in awe and in fear of never knowing if he'll ever be able to reach out to him again. He's spent years trying to understand why Izuku always insisted on trailing behind him as they were growing, even when Katsuki did everything within his power to deter him. But as he watches him running now-hair blowing in all directions, his wide back wet with sweat, his excited laughter filling his ears as he follows the wind-Katsuki understands.
The sight before him now paints a pretty picture, the prettiest picture, and yet again Katsuki knows that on this day, this is the image that he etches and chooses to commit to memory.
He catches up when Izuku turns back and bellows for him to follow, and when they walk together again, the other chatters about the fallen petals. Did you know that if you catch a petal mid fall, your wish will come true? And because Katsuki is just that good, a few minutes later, he does.
A petal wafts through the air and falls right between his waiting fingers, as if drawn there by some magnetic force.
It makes him feel good, and then a little bad, because the rest of the way, Izuku flails around but fails to catch even a single petal. It’s like he’s the northern end of a magnet, and every single petal is the polar opposite. It evades him. He dives, but the winds that he causes with his excessive movements only cause them to fly. He complains loudly, embarrassed, wonders why it’s so hard to catch them when it's showering down on them like rain.
Katsuki snickers. “Skill issue.”
“What!” Izuku exclaims. “Who taught you that?”
“Kota.”
By the time they finally reach their destination, Izuku still hasn’t caught a single one. Katsuki scoffs.
“Just tell me what you want and maybe, if it's not stupid, I’ll use my petal to grant it.”
Izuku bares his teeth at him in annoyance, though there’s a slight tinge of red on his cheeks that are certainly not from the heat.
“It’s fine." Izuku scowls at him, a little miffed. "I’ll catch one on the way home.”
"What is it?"
Izuku rolls his eyes at him. "You know it doesn't work like that."
"Stop being so obtuse and just spill," Katsuki says. "That 1/1 All Might card?" Izuku shakes his head. "No? Seriously? Fuck."
He should probably pick out another birthday gift for this year.
"Uh, what about the Golden Gala Figure? No? Really? Goddamnit." He clicks his tongue. "Is it that show those brats the other day were screaming about then? You wanna go on a taping?"
Izuku snorts. "Those 'brats' are working professionals now. And no, Katsuma's the one who wants to go." A fond smile etches its way across Izuku's face as he talks. "He was so shy about it, actually. Apparently there's this cute announcer there and Eri was teasing him about it. Seeing them having fun like that was really nice, Kacchan. You should've been there. They're all still so adorable-"
An understanding passes Katsuki. "Kids?"
Izuku whips his head around. "What?"
"You want kids then?" Katsuki asks and shrugs. "I mean, we can always adopt but I know some quirk specialists that could probably-"
"Kacchan!" Izuku shrieks. "I don't want kids, I- we're not even married!"
"I didn't know you were so traditional." Katsuki smirks. He bends on one knee and props up his hands, opening it like a clam shell. "Baby... I know it's only been twenty years, but will you-"
"Get up!" Izuku whacks him upside the head. "Oh my god, you are so-"
Katsuki cackles as he speeds up the mountain and Izuku chases after him.
They finally reach the top, their bickering never ceasing, and as Izuku looks around, he furrows his brows. The barren trunk they’d kissed on is nowhere to be found, and in its place is the biggest cherry blossom tree that they’ve ever seen. They share a look and they both wonder the same thing.
It was pretty much dead when they’d buried the box, and yet standing before them was something full of life, proud and beautiful, raining a shower of beautiful, pink petals all around them.
Izuku stared at it, slack-jawed. “What do you think caused it to come alive again?”
Katsuki holds his hand. “Our love.”
A heavy silence falls between them, and when Katsuki turns, he's greeted by the sight of Izuku looking a little too green.
"What?" Katsuki snaps at him. "So you can say cheesy shit but when I do, it's bad?"
"I think I get a pass?" Izuku grins. "People do say I'm cuter- ow! Ow, ow, yeah, okay, that was mean. Ow-" and Izuku laughs and laughs and laughs while Katsuki pinches him in all the wrong places.
They waste no time in getting to work. Well, maybe a little time. Katsuki wraps his arm around his waist, catching Izuku by surprise, and pulls him flush against his chest. They relive the memories of their eighteen year old selves; Izuku’s back against the tree, Katsuki mouthing at him. Flushed, they separate for air, and when Katsuki runs his hands along the underside of Izuku’s waistband he gets a persistent hand tapping on top of his chest.
"Kacchan, you know I love you," Izuku says breathlessly, "but the cards..."
Katsuki curses whoever invented them.
They start digging, and it turns out they didn’t need to dig too deep. The top lid of the box comes into view-the paint on it already disintegrating, but the metal compartment protects the contents from the elements. Izuku roughly yanks it out and opens it excitedly, the pack of trading cards right on top of everything else, and he hurriedly runs off to the side and fumbles with it. Katsuki rolls his eyes and digs through what remains, scrunching his nose at what could only be trash. The box had been a last minute idea, after all, and they didn’t have a lot of things on them when they’d decided to do it.
A train receipt for their trip. The keychain Izuku had gotten from a gachapon at the market. Little candy wrappers-buttercream and mint. A few letters from the students of the nearby elementary school. Christ, they were probably already in university.
And then, he sees it.
Nestled in between the stack of letters, the thing he'd forgotten, the thing he'd won from that festival game twenty years ago. He remembers wanting to throw it down the creek when he tried to wear it and it kept on slipping, only stopping mid-throw when Izuku hastily shook the box in front of him, grinning when he said: Just put it in here and see if you’ll still want it by the next time you see it.
It didn't even fit him back then, slipping right off his then slender fingers, and he's sure that it will still slide right off if he tries again.
But Izuku’s hands were different. Larger, stockier, the knuckles of it surely helping to make it stay in place. Katsuki wonders how the silver would shine against his tanned skin, the smooth metal of it against jagged, slivered fingers. He sees in his mind's eye Izuku wearing it, holding it up to the sky and looking at it, wondering if it made him feel good to know he belonged to Katsuki.
No wonder Katsuki couldn't make it work back then, because it was never truly meant for him.
Excited noises from his side startles him and his head nearly spins when he turns to look at Izuku.
Did he know about this? Did he somehow plan it?
But no, that couldn't be, because Izuku's still looking down at his simple pack of cards and muttering under his breath, not a care in the world, marveling over the new shiny one that he just got. There's a big dumb smile on his face like a kid who's just been given candy even after he’s brushed his teeth-completely unaware of Katsuki's world shifting on its axis, head turning from a decision that may as well tie them together for eternity.
Katsuki thumbs at the prize, feeling the cold metal against his fingers. It's cheap steel, won from a simple fishing game that cost him about a hundred yen per try, and it looks like it'll bend if he so much as applies even just the tiniest bit of pressure. It's hardly fit for whatever grand promise it held.
But it doesn't matter.
If not now, then when?
"Kacchan."
He looks up and sees Izuku still kneeling on the floor, looking down at his shiny pack of cards. His hair shines under the bright sun, streaks of silver nestled in between the greens of it. Izuku looks at him then, holding up a bright red Edgeshot card. "I'll give you this one," he beams at Katsuki, before crouching back down and shuffling his collection again.
He feels a tight pressure on his chest, takes a sharp intake of breath, before he holds his own prize high up in the air between them.
"Izuku." His own voice rings in his ears as if he's shouting from the top of the mountain, but he knows it's never been softer than in that moment.
He'd died for this man once, the man still so enraptured by the simplest things life has to offer, and he knows deep down he'd do it all over again if it comes to it.
"And I'll give you this."
He waits with bated breath, watching as it glints under the bright sunlight, watching as Izuku looks up again and emotion upon emotion flashes onto his face. His mouth opens wide, and then his face colors into a deep red, his cute ears flushing into a bright pink. Izuku's eyes crinkle, teary, as he flashes his white teeth, settling it into a grin.
Katsuki only smiles at him, already knowing the answer.