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“Oi, you ready for the festival yet?”
Izuku freezes in his tracks and stares at the yukata hanging loosely down his waist.
“Almost, Kacchan!”
“Don’t lie! I can hear you struggling with the obi!”
Izuku stares at the said obi folded on the bed. It stares back, motionless.
It’s taunting him just like those high school neckties.
“No, I'm not!”
Kacchan peeps through the bedroom door a crack despite Izuku's protests. Huffing, he kicks the door wide open, sporting the glare that earned him the top spot in the list of heroes that look like villains.
Izuku is unfazed. He dons a sheepish grin. “And that's because I haven't put it on yet.”
Kacchan makes a show of sighing in exasperation, but Izuku recognizes it as fond from the way his lip twitches in the hint of a smile. He's already approaching even before Izuku clasps his hands in prayer and falls dramatically on the bed. “Please help me put it on?”
Kacchan flicks his forehead and picks up the obi with one hand and pokes Izuku’s cheek with the other. From where Izuku lay, the light from the setting sun bathes Kacchan's face in red. “When will you ever learn to tie this yourself?” he grumbles. “Twenty festivals later, and you still don’t know.”
Izuku giggles. “Why would I when I have Kacchan to help me?”
☆☆☆
Izuku's always been a hopeless romantic.
It started at the tender age of four when the myth of Tanabata had him hopelessly entranced. A love that transcends galaxies and time? Sign him up.
He loved everything about the festival. He loved people watching the crowds, decked out in their yukata and chowing down on takoyaki and other summer fare. He loved the feeling of hanging his own tanzaku (red, of course!) on one of the bamboo branches stationed across the city. He loved sitting on his mother's shoulders amid a throng of people as they watched fireworks bloom across the night sky. And in the dark of the night, the lanterns hung across the city from high above in steel rafters down to the trees lining the riverbank cast an almost magical glow.
He loved that the most. The colorful lantern lights twinkled on the river like stars on the Milky Way.
He even insisted on staying the night to watch the bamboo branches drift idly by. Eyes shut, he imagined the river carrying all of Musutafu’s wishes to the gods above.
It was peaceful until the explosion.
“Never fear! I am here!”
A boy with explosions popping from his tiny hands sprinted down the grassy riverbank before gracefully skidding to a stop in front of the Midoriya family. He pointed at Izuku's All Might onesie then his own matching set. “I like All Might, too! See, we match. We're best friends now!” he declared with no room to argue.
Within the minute of stunned silence that followed, the boy’s parents caught up. The mother, a mirror image of the boy, started dragging him off by the ear.
Izuku laughed at the ridiculous sight. His mother rushed to whisper assurances to the strange boy’s parents, who let the boy go. The boy's jaw gaped open. His red eyes widened, and Izuku figured he was astounded by the lantern lights, too.
Izuku extended a tentative hand out. “I'm Izuku.”
The boy's face split with a wicked grin. “Katsuki.”
☆☆☆
In the middle of tying the obi, Kacchan pauses and shoves his hand through the front of Izuku's yukata.
“Kacchan! What are you doing? My dignity!”
“Tch, you lost your dignity the day you lost your underpants at the pool.”
“Excuse me. You pulled them down to see if there are freckles on my butt!”
“And there were, you liar! Now, what's this?”
After a brief but ultimately futile struggle, Kacchan snatches the bath towel that used to pad Izuku's yukata. Red eyes narrow in suspicion. Izuku's shoulders sag in defeat. He pouts. “I read that men should be plump for the yukata to look cool, so I added that to give me extra dimension.”
Kacchan scowls so hard, deep wrinkles form on his forehead. No warning is given before he explodes the bath towel and disintegrates it into the void. “Oi, you don't need that shit. You're fine the way you are.”
“But Kacchan!” Izuku wails while Kacchan wipes his hands clean of soot. He can tell that Kacchan is pleased in the confident way his shoulders are set. “That's my only bath towel!”
“Tch, I'll get you another one.”
Izuku stops wailing and cracks a smile. He is a simple man with simple needs. “Great! Can you get me one of those fancy ones? Ooh, Egyptian cotton towels are the best.”
“Did… did you really just trick me to get you a new towel?”
“Of course not!” Izuku bats his eyes innocently.
Kacchan rolls his eyes, but his lip twitches. “Ugh, fine.”
☆☆☆
In another world, Izuku discovering he was quirkless became the impetus for a long line of bullying from Kacchan and his goons.
Luckily, this was not that world.
Kacchan had no goons. Instead, he stood by Izuku's side and shielded him from the brunt of thoughtless words and leery looks.
But Kacchan couldn’t protect him forever.
“What’s your wish, Izuku?”
“I’m not telling!”
“Why not? I’m your best friend. You should tell me everything!”
Izuku’s lip quivered. He bit it to keep the tears from falling over. He didn’t want Kacchan to call him stupid, too. “The other kids laughed when they saw what I wrote. They said it was stupid.”
“ Hah? ” Kacchan spat with contempt twice the size of his little eight-year-old body. “Who are these extras? Let me at ‘em!”
The tears fell anyway. “Um, well… my wish is to find my true love. But they told me no one would want to date a quirkless kid.” Izuku tore the explanation out of his throat, words shrinking to a whimper by the end.
Kacchan slammed a smoking fist on the table, face contorted in fury. “That’s not stupid! They’re stupid. Don’t listen to stupid extras, Izuku. Are they your classmates?”
“No, they’re not,” Izuku lied. He wiped the tears from his eyes, forcing a smile at the thought that he at least had Kacchan. “It’s nothing. Let’s forget about it and go back to lunch, okay?”
Or maybe he didn’t.
“No way.” Kacchan stomped away huffing. With every step he took, Izuku’s stomach twisted itself into messy knots. He couldn’t bear another bite, so he returned to the classroom and curled up in a secluded corner, making himself as small as he felt.
The rest of the afternoon was thankfully uneventful. No bullies bothered him again. In fact, no bullies showed up for class at all.
Even so, Izuku’s stomach remained knotted until the chimes rang to signal the end of the school day. He hurriedly changed into his outdoor shoes and sprinted to the school gates. Kacchan was angry, but surely he'd be waiting there, right? They always met up to make their annual trek to the festival.
Minutes passed and Kacchan, punctual to a fault, didn’t show.
A traitorous thought snuck in that maybe Kacchan left him, too.
Izuku shook it away the best he could. Unsure, he wandered back into the building to search for Kacchan and to stave away the fears. He wasn't in any hurry to join the festivities anyway.
He found Kacchan in Izuku’s classroom, down on his knees and vigorously dunking a rag in a bucket of cleaning water then angrily scrubbing the floor. A purple bruise was forming near his eye.
Izuku ran to his friend, almost slipping on the wet tiles. He’s first swept with relief that Kacchan didn’t leave him intentionally, was only put on additional cleaning duty for the troublemakers in school. Then annoyance that Kacchan ruined the perfect record he bragged so often about. “Kacchan!” he scolded, dropping to his knees and trying to peer up at his friend. “What are you in trouble for?”
“I didn’t do nothing,” Kacchan grunted, eyes locked in a deathmatch with the rag. “Just exploded two, maybe three, of your classmates.”
“What?”
“Don’t what me! They deserved it. You’re good as you are. You don’t need to change anything.”
Izuku’s lip quivered again. The overwhelming joy easily undid the knots in his stomach. He snatched Kacchan in a tight embrace and rubbed his cheek against fluffy blond hair. “Kacchan, who knew you were so sappy!”
Kacchan’s palms sparked and singed the rag in his hands.
“Oops.” Izuku pulled back laughing. “I didn’t mean to make you lose control like that.”
“Stop assuming, nerd,” Kacchan grunted and tried to go back to scrubbing, but the rag was falling apart with every wipe. “You didn’t do shit. Shaddap.”
“Language, Kacchan!” Izuku smiled for the both of them. Kacchan didn’t seem to notice that he was only further driving black bits of rag into the space between the tiles, which is a nightmare to get out. Izuku ran to the bathroom and scurried back with two fresh rags, tossing one to Kacchan and using the other to clean himself.
“Oi,” Kacchan nudged him gently with his shoulder. “Get out of here. You’ll miss the festival.”
“No,” Izuku huffed. “I want Kacchan with me.”
Kacchan’s face split into a wicked grin. “Then let’s celebrate here instead. They hadn’t taken the bamboo branches yet, right?”
“Yup! They’ll be carrying out the bamboo in an hour so they can set it with everyone else’s in Musutafu.”
Red eyes twinkled mischievously. “Let’s burn it.”
“Kacchan, noooo! ” Izuku giggled to feign resistance. But the temptation was strong, and Kacchan was grinning so widely. “Won’t that just get us in more trouble?” he said as a last ditch attempt.
“Eh, let’s just say we celebrated an early Tanabata. Say it’s traditional to burn the bamboo.”
They spent a month on additional cleaning duty after that.
It was worth it.
☆☆☆
“So, if you weren’t tricking me to buy a new towe—”
“I wasn’t, I swear!”
“Then why did you have it on? Trying to look good for someone?”
Izuku thinks that Kacchan sounds almost too casual, but his head’s down wrapping the obi around Izuku’s waist, so he can’t say for sure. He settles on the truth. Kacchan has the uncanny ability to detect Izuku’s lies. It almost feels like an Izuku-specific version of Tsukauchi’s quirk. “No,” he exhales. “No one I’m trying to catch the eye of. I just want to look good for myself, I guess. See someone desirable in the mirror.”
Kacchan grunts and the obi is tightened a smidgen too much on the second loop. “How many times do I have to keep knocking it into your thick skull, hah? Don’t be an idiot and start listening to me. You’re perf—good as you are.”
“ Soooo, don’t start listening to you?”
Kacchan finishes tying the obi and smacks the back of Izuku’s head. “Only one of us can be the smartass here.”
Izuku smiles sweetly. “You give yourself too much credit. Smart? Who’s the one with the university degree?”
“Why you—”
Izuku runs and Katsuki chases after him. Izuku hops on and off his bed, ignoring Kacchan’s yells to not break the bed frame a third time and dashes off into their living room, skidding behind the dining table and jumping over the sofa in meaningless cycles until Kacchan finally tackles him to the ground. He rolls off of Izuku, both of them panting and laughing.
“You still making the same wish, then?”
“Yup,” Izuku says wistfully. “Same wish.”
☆☆☆
“If you keep making heart-eyes at that guy, you might as well ask him to the festival instead of me.”
“ Kacchan, I can dream, can’t I?”
“Tch, what does he have that I don’t?”
“How about what you have and he doesn’t? A stick up your ass!”
Izuku stuck his tongue out, holding his ground in the face of Kacchan’s murderous glare. Pointedly, he turned his attention back to the most popular boy in middle school who sat at the opposite end of the cafeteria.
Izuku sighed dreamily.
Kacchan reached over the table and rapped Izuku’s forehead. “Hello? Earth to space cadet? Just because that guy gave you a passing smile in the hallway doesn’t mean he’s the love of your life!”
Izuku turned back, seething with a glare of his own. It’s usually ineffective, but this one had Kacchan reeling in shock. “I never said that! It’s just a happy crush! What’s your problem?”
Kacchan’s eyes narrowed. He slammed his smoking fists on the table. For a tenuous second, Izuku thought he’d make a scene again. Instead, Kacchan inhaled deeply and stomped away with his uneaten lunch. There were no less than five annoyed yells from shoulders bumped on his way out.
Some things never changed.
Izuku slumped against his seat, dragging a hand across his curls. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so harsh with Kacchan. But Kacchan should know better by now. It’s, what, Izuku’s seventh crush that year? And the school year just started months ago.
Still, the guilt weighed him down the rest of the day. He wondered if he should prepare to be a solo traveller this Tanabata.
When no shock of blond hair greeted him outside the classroom, he accepted his fate with resignation.
He took the time to walk to the rows of shoe lockers, in no rush to change into his outdoor shoes. He was so out of it, he almost missed the spot of red in the upper shelf of his locker that definitely wasn’t there before.
Pulling out the foreign object with suspicion, he unwrapped the cloth packaging to reveal a bento box. In it was freshly cooked katsudon topped with nori strips and carrots painstakingly carved into miniature stars.
“Sorry.”
On the opposite row of shoe lockers, Kacchan stood with his hands in his pockets, slouching and scowling and still somehow looking repentant despite it all.
Izuku carefully set down the bento before launching himself at Kacchan, burying his teary-eyed face into the crook of Kacchan’s neck. “Wah, I’m sorry, too!” he sniffled. Snot smeared on Kacchan’s collar, but to his credit, Kacchan didn’t budge. He even placed a tentative hand on Izuku’s back. “But you really shouldn’t have put that there! That’s gross!”
“Tch,” Kacchan huffed, and Izuku thought he sounded fond. “You deserve it. You were late.”
☆☆☆
“How about you, Kacchan?”
“What about me?”
“When are you dating someone?”
Izuku makes a vague gesture to encompass Kacchan’s physique. Unlike Izuku, Kacchan filled out the yukata nicely. The whole of Japan thought so, too. Magazines and tabloids alike named him Japan’s most eligible pro hero bachelor (who also looked like a villain) for years.
Kacchan shrugs. It must be a trick of the light, but his ears are tinged red. “I’m waiting.”
☆☆☆
“Oi, what’s wrong this time, nerd?”
“Nothing! Why would you think anything’s wrong? There’s nothing wrong! I’m fine!”
“Yeah, right. And I’m All Might’s son. Tell me what’s up, I can see right through you.”
In the humid weather, Izuku’s curls stuck to his forehead. He tried blowing them away, but found that ineffective. He shoved them out of his eyes instead. He needed to see. Needed to stare at the river and the twinkling lantern lights and try to remember why it entranced him in the first place.
After more than a decade of making the same wish, it didn’t feel so magical now.
“We’re graduating high school this year.”
“Uh-huh. And we’re at the top of our classes. You in support, me in the hero class. What’s there to be sad about?”
Izuku scowled and furrowed his brow at one bamboo branch drifting perilously close to the riverbank. He wanted to run over and kick it. “I’ve never gotten a love letter!”
Kacchan howled with laughter. Izuku shot the dirtiest look he could muster. It didn’t work. If anything, Kacchan laughed harder to the point of clutching his stomach.
“That’s what you’re so down about?”
“Shut up, Kacchan!” Failing to tackle Kacchan to the ground because of his stupid, hero muscles, Izuku resorted to pounding on his back. “It’s not fair! You always get all the love letters and confessions. You can have your pick, even go to the most romantic festival with them.”
“And break tradition?” Kacchan snorted, both figuratively and literally unmoved. He caught Izuku in a headlock and ruffled his hair with one hand while the other tickled his ribs. Stupid, hero, growth spurt. “No way. You’ll be crying the whole time. The world’s ears will bleed.”
“Rude!” Kacchan now used both hands to tickle Izuku. Izuku laughed helplessly, tearing up and uselessly swatting Kacchan’s hands away. Kacchan relented when the waterfall of snot and tears spouted, whipping out a handkerchief from his pouch and wiping any stray substance off of Izuku’s yukata.
Drained of energy from the tickle session, Izuku slumped against the riverbank, smiling weakly up at Kacchan. “Thanks.”
Kacchan plopped beside him on the grass. “Feel any better?”
“A little. I’m too tired to feel miserable, so thanks.”
“Good.”
“I’m just disappointed now,” Izuku sighed, apparently not too tired after all. “Love is the springtime of one’s youth! And my springtime is running out.”
“Stop it. Those manhwas are rotting your brain.”
“Eeeeeh,” Izuku whined, yelping when Kacchan poked his sore rib.
Quiet fell. It wasn’t long until Izuku began staring listlessly at the floating branches again.
“Alright, I can’t stand your damned moping. I’m telling you a secret.”
“Hmm?”
“I like someone.”
“What?” Izuku swiveled his head so fast, it’s a miracle he didn’t break any bones. He leaned over and poked Kacchan’s face. Kacchan’s eyes remained planted on the river. The words poured out of Izuku in a rush. “How come you never said? Aren’t we best friends? What other secrets have you been keeping from m—okay, not the point. Who is it? Did you get something from her? Him? Them?”
“Ever heard of personal space?” Still not looking, Kacchan pushed his face away.
“Waaah, tell me!” Izuku ducked under Kacchan’s arm after much flailing, landing face up on his lap. Red creeped up Kacchan’s neck as he sputtered and swiftly looked elsewhere.
Izuku grinned. It’s rare to see Kacchan so flustered, and all because of a crush! He poked at Kacchan’s cheek, urging him to look down. “That’s what best friends are for! Tell me so I can help!”
Kacchan snorted and shot the meanest glare at Izuku, his face as red as his eyes. “No. You’ll be zero help. The person I like is an idiot. So, I’m waiting.”
Izuku waited expectantly, but nothing.
“Well,” he remarked smartly, nestling himself into Kacchan’s lap instead. He’d laid on Kacchan’s lap thousands of times before in sleepovers and school hallways. It never ceased to be a comfort. “They’re an idiot if they don’t confess to you. You’re the coolest person ever.”
“... tch. That's right.”
Both idly watched the lights play on the river until the first droplets of rain.
“No wonder my wish isn't coming true,” Izuku pouted. Kacchan pulled him up from the grass with one hand and wiped the dirt from Izuku's yukata with the other. “It's raining! So Orihime and Hikoboshi don’t get to meet!”
“So what if they’re not meeting?” Kacchan muttered and whipped out an umbrella from his pouch. “Where’s your umbrella?”
Izuku, set to graduate at the top of his support class, bested only in the number of blueprints created by Hatsume Mei herself, did not pack an umbrella.
“Oops?”
Kacchan rolled his eyes but beckoned Izuku closer. “Whatever, just scoot with me. Let’s go back to the dorms.”
“Aww, Kacchan! How romantic,” Izuku teased, hopping under the umbrella as the skies suddenly opened up a torrential downpour.
“Tch.”
☆☆☆
Izuku freezes in his tracks.
He’s one of the smartest men in Japan. He’s been told so in countless interviews with other leading support engineers. He even has the trophies from yearly support rankings (which are a thing, apparently) and contracts with the top hero agencies in the country and abroad to prove it. Heroes constantly rang his phone at ungodly times of the day to fix equipment he didn’t design.
Kacchan.
Is ten steps ahead of him, gaping at him like he’s an idiot.
Kacchan.
Who insisted that they share an apartment close to Izuku’s office. Who is footing more than half the rent since pro heroes are paid too damn much compared to everyone else. Who then lobbied with Izuku to pass legislation to increase the minimum starting rate for support engineers, and whose standing as part of the top ten sped up the bill closer to passing than any previous attempts ever accomplished.
Kacchan.
His best friend since childhood. Who’s currently motioning at him to hurry his ass up so they can catch the fireworks that Kacchan doesn’t care for, but Izuku does. Yelling that they should go now to beat the damn crowds, because Kacchan hates people and there’s a better chance of getting ahead of the mass of bodies if they arrive an hour early.
Izuku is the dumbest man alive.
☆☆☆
“Break up with him.”
Izuku raised a weary glance from his textbook. Honestly, the engineering diagrams stopped making sense ages ago. But he had to try and distract himself from the growing knot in his stomach.
“Kacchan, we talked about this. I will. Just… not now.”
“Then when? When you’ve graduated university, or when I hit the number one spot, hah? Trash should be weeded out sooner rather than later. You’d be fucking married when you finally decide to quit it.”
Izuku groaned and looked scathingly at Kacchan. Kacchan rolled his eyes and pulled his lips back in a sneer.
“I won’t let it get that far,” Izuku assured him with confidence he didn’t feel. “I just don’t know how to find the right time. Summer classes have been beating my ass, and…” He fidgeted with the book’s pages. “It’s bad luck, probably. It’s even raining today. I don’t want to ruin the festival.”
“That’s not a thing and you know it,” Kacchan seethed. He clenched his smoking fists tight like a timebomb forcing itself to stop ticking.
It didn’t work.
“He won’t even celebrate with you!”
“That’s because we always celebrate, Kacchan. It’s tradition.”
“Did he want to go then if it weren’t for me?”
Izuku put a pin in that line of questioning for later. The knot in his stomach grew and gained a distant twin in the form of a migraine. “No, he doesn’t like festivals and people either.”
Kacchan’s face is as red as an overripe tomato. He also looks about to burst. “He doesn’t even know your favorite food!”
“My favorite food is very complicated.”
“It’s katsudon! I learned how to make it at six years old. I can whip it up in my sleep!”
“Fine, go ahead.”
Kacchan loudly stomped the few steps to the stove in the tiny dorm apartment. It was almost comical, having a bulky sidekick grunt and pound away like he was set to murder pork and onions, but Kacchan stayed true to his word. He even kept quiet, leaving Izuku to study in peace.
By the time the smell of soy sauce and dashi wafted through the room, the knot in Izuku’s stomach disappeared completely, replaced by a ravenous hunger. He barely had the time (or skills) to cook anything more complicated than ramen, so the prospect of a home-cooked meal made his mouth water.
Before he knew it, Kacchan set a steaming bowl on Izuku’s desk. Izuku aimed a grateful smile Kacchan's way.
“See, easy,” Kacchan smirked from above him. “Now give me your phone. I’ll break up with him for you. Nothing like the big, scary Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight to make any shitty boyfriend pee their pants.”
Maybe it was the freshly cooked katsudon. Maybe it was Kacchan’s brash confidence. Or maybe, Izuku knew deep down (fine, on a surface level) that Kacchan was right. His current boyfriend was a real piece of work. “Okay, fine,” he relented with a smile.
It’s over in two minutes, tops.
“See, there.” Kacchan grinned wickedly.
“Thanks, Kacchan.” Izuku smiled back.
The evening ended with Kacchan dragging a simultaneously sleepy and caffeinated Izuku to hang their tanzaku at the dorm lobby’s imitation tree.
☆☆☆
Izuku feels the crowd more than sees it. His earlier hesitation and the ensuing dumbfoundedness ensured that they arrived at the peak of crowd formation, much to the annoyance of Kacchan. Distantly, Izuku knows he’s being jostled in all directions, notices the flashes and bangs of lights in the sky, but only one presence is stark.
Kacchan’s body is burning hot.
The night passes in a blur. He thinks he’s having an out-of-body experience. He vaguely remembers the taste of the takoyaki Kacchan shoved into his mouth, which he accepted, and being ordered to hang his tanzaku on the bamboo branch, which he adamantly refused.
He comes to his senses at midnight by the riverbank, after what feels like hours of staring at the water. The colorful lantern lights twinkle on the river like stars on the Milky Way.
The quiet night feels almost magical. He hesitates to break the silence, so he whispers, facing his best friend. He stares at Kacchan intently. Red eyes stare back.
“Kacchan, why do you always come with me?”
Kacchan’s brow furrows in confusion before his face clears up. He scowls, but his lip twitches into a reluctant smile. “I’m waiting.”
Distantly, Izuku finds himself stepping closer, holding Kacchan’s gaze all the while. He has to know. Were Kacchan’s eyes always the same shade as the red tanzaku that Izuku chose, year after year?
Oh.
“For what?” Izuku’s voice comes out breathless.
Kacchan snorts. “For an idiot.”
Izuku exhales the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Absentmindedly, he takes out the tanzaku that was nestled comfortably in his pouch.
And rips it into pieces.
“Oi, what are you doing!”
Kacchan lunges forward to grab Izuku’s wrist, but the damage has been done.
“Me,” Izuku says dumbly and points at himself. “I’m the idiot.”
“Tch, took you long enough to figure out,” Kacchan smirks from above him. He’s so close. When did they get so close? They’ve been this close before, but it’s so different suddenly, and Izuku’s mind is racing a million miles a minute and—
Kacchan presses a finger to Izuku’s lip. “You’re thinking yourself to death. Come back to reality, space cadet.” He playfully knocks on Izuku’s forehead. “That didn’t answer the question.”
“Well,” Izuku shrinks back into Kacchan’s arms. He’s so out of it, he doesn’t realize he backed himself into an awkward wide-armed embrace. Awareness dawns and his face bursts into flames. The words pour out in a frantic rush. “Well, apparently I don’t need to wish anymore! Because I have what I’ve been looking for!”
“Oh, do you now? How are you so sure?”
Kami, Kacchan’s cocky grin will be the death of him.
Izuku’s heart is thundering in his ears. In the humid summer night, with his curls stuck to his forehead, snug in the arms of the man who is childhood friend, best friend, and roommate all at once, time feels frozen.
Kacchan waits for an answer.
“I always have.”
“Come here, you idiot.”
Kacchan closes the distance for a kiss and Izuku melts in his arms.
The kiss quiets his frenetic mind. It’s nothing that Izuku ever imagined, because apparently, Izuku is the densest rock on the planet. Kacchan kisses like a contradiction, sweet and rough, tentative and confident, searching and found.
It’s everything Izuku didn’t know he wanted and more.
Izuku pulls back with the dopiest smile. No trick of the light can excuse Kacchan’s utterly red face. “I hope this was worth waiting all these years for?”
“Of course it is,” Kacchan grins down at Izuku. Then he flicks Izuku’s forehead none too painlessly. “As long as we don’t just kiss once a year. I still don’t know how you like this stupid story. Why would I want to meet my lover only once a year? The hell.”
Izuku wiggles out of Kacchan’s hold and smacks him in return, feigning annoyance. “Shut up, Kacchan! It’s romantic!”
“Tch.” Undeterred, Kacchan snatches Izuku in an embrace and burrows his face into the crook of Izuku’s neck, never mind the height difference and the awkward position he willingly puts himself in. His hands shift to lace fingers with Izuku, grasping it tightly like he never wants to let go. “We’re romantic.”
Izuku’s heart swells. He beams at the night sky. “I suppose we always were.”