[It's been... who knows how many days. At least a week, but Katsuki hasn't been able to keep count. An icy wind had rolled into town, and near immediately it froze the blonde's barely-beating heart. The pain was very intense, and reminded him too much of when his heart had a hole blasted through and he was forced to fight through the pain. It burned and breathing felt like torture. Every breath was sharp and cold, and overtime he developed a horrible cough that forced him to expel ice crystals every now and then. Which tore his throat up on the way out, and caused his voice to be extremely hoarse and rough. Moreso than usual.
In the beginning, Katsuki tried his best to do what he could while he was sick. He continued to do his job as a nighttime traffic cop, and tried to do those test things with other people. But by the time day four hit, he was unable to get himself to leave the futon he shared with Shoto. Shoto, who also had been sick as a dog from day one. The two of them were suffering from the same symptoms and neither of them had the energy to do anything besides sleep by day five. And today, a couple of days later, was even worse... at least for Katsuki.
His chest felt like it was never going to heal. It felt as though his heart and lungs were ripped to shreds and his icy-cold blood was filling his chest-- and the only thing that helped even a little was physical contact. It worked a lot better with Izuku, who hadn't been infected yet but Katsuki spent every second where Izuku wasn't home cuddling with Shoto. It didn't help as much, but there was still a little bit of warmth that spread through his heart when he touched the other sick boy. And these feelings he's harbored for months now made it feel even warmer...
So today, Katsuki turns so he's facing Shoto in the futon and wraps his arm around him. Cuddling close with the other frigid boy in hopes it'll help give him the energy to get out of bed.]
...this sucks..
[He whispers that quietly to Shoto, who he isn't even sure is awake or not. He just needs to voice out his discomfort to anyone that would listen.]
[Drawn into comfort, the boy beside him shifts at the sound of his voice, and he fights off sleep. A little warmth's crept in where he's pressed to him close; and Shoto's Quirk attempts, "flickers", and he leans brow against brow with sweat-damp fringe against the paler boy's face; a lace of frost in his touch. His left hand sliding between the two to brush his palm to soft fabric, his fingers stretched into star-burst's warmth, left palm pressing into his heart, the slow-beat thump beneath fabric and skin and hummed through the folds of his shirt, to send heat back.
He almost laughs.]
I always thought it'd be more violent than this...
[A death from war, or a Nomu; in Toya's arms, at Toya's feet when he'd bathed him in Blueflame a second time. His eyes slip closed, and then he's glowing against him dimmer than a firefly's light. When fingers drop to grasp fingers, it's with intent to squeeze small sparks from out of the lines of his palm. His mother's touch, his father's strength against Explosion's own sweat, to lend the other boy heat...
[Katsuki's eyebrows raise just a little when his complaint is answered by Shoto's body shifting to turn his attention to him. How the other boy rests his forehead against the blonde's, and his Quirk activates just enough to flicker warmth against his chest. There's this bitter tone to Shoto's voice, almost laughing at the absurdity of the situation. These two reckless, selfless Heroes who both nearly met such grizzly ends during a war... stuck in bed, sick as could be. Katsuki's heart had been nearly punched right out of his chest-- and yet this freezing, sickening cold had the battered organ in worse conditions. He was able to stand and fight through pure willpower and inner strength, but like this?
Katsuki could barely get himself to eat. He couldn't imagine trying to get to his feet and fight, right now. He's had to suspend his officer duties as it is.
It was embarrassing, honestly. Shameful. And he refuses the mere idea that the two of them were going to die like this. Shaking his head as the other boy calls this "the end", and continues to try and warm his cold body up.
He doesn't have much energy when his hand is taken into Shoto's, but when he feels the other boy squeeze he activates what he can. Warming his own palm back against Shoto's, and allowing little crackles and pops of sweat to bead out of his skin. Nothing crazy, not wanting to start a fire indoors or ruin Shoto's nice futon. Though.. he can't really make enough sweat to blow them up, anyway....
He just wants to help how he can. To feel like he did something, if this was truly their last moments together. If this illness was bad enough for it to get to that point, and their "dads" took too long to get the cure. At least Shoto wasn't the only one trying to warm the two of them up.]
Don't apologize, idiot...
[Katsuki's voice is so quiet and weak, a soft murmur and he closes his eyes for a moment just to try and focus on the warmth. As his body shivers in waves from the block of ice still residing in his chest.]
I'll take anything. It's so freaking c-cold...
Edited (changed a word bc i can--) 2025-07-23 04:57 (UTC)
[The irony, if there's humor found at all in it, is that the boy can freeze himself. A body primed for ice accepts its ice. He draws in breath, but there's the sticking, collective frost affixed infesting his lungs; and his shivering heart trips, stutters, and he blinks off rime when his eyes drift up and ice-white flakes between his lashes stick. The blond's defiance what pulls him up, head beneath water before his own fights to surface, to muddle through, endure it longer to drag them both and emerge with Katsuki on other side. That Toya was right to cruelly mock, belittle him roundly for his own reservations; what's bound himself and sees him suffering from it even now...
His fault. His fault, his fault.
"The boy born with everything", struggling to drag the smallest, tiniest warmth from under the depths of himself. That he's helpless occurs along with a sense of sobering guilt. And what else should he do? He hears his brother—his crackling voice and molten jaw—recalls his burning beyond his blood's own limits, and he grits his teeth as if forcing it might will the cold out. Still persisting, still a "worthless, half-baked puppet", searching his fog to grasp a third beyond his second use, to still remake himself.
But, Katsuki's here, and it's this that pulls the bravery out of his own pale heart; protecting, protected. When pale arms tighten, and inner furnace sparks once, twice, again the sputter with kick to an engine in the dead-white of winter; when "Half-Hot" damply pulses to life, heats dimly and shy with pink insistence and flush across plains of his skin. Thawing for Katsuki, for himself; to beg his body to wring stale warmth from bottoms of last-dregs reserves; to not let others find two dead boys and curling like deer in the woods. Again and again, the forced resolve. But Toya help him, he squeezes tight to press reassurance between the other boy's ribs, his right and left in agreeance, exchanging his cold with the last few drops of his dwindling blood-heat's reserves. And again, another's voice; his brother's second, insistent demand that he's his strength in the palms of his hands; his tiny, generator heart, exhausting his Quirk and last few options both.
Because his very name, Shoto, suggests to others all the boy seems capable of. That what he is: a burning, freezing and two extremes, two full halves pressed together, two seasons merged to offer artificial sunlight, lights warmth all over; balmy sheen beneath his fringe, where palms and fingers press. His hold is summer, all sweat and will, and clumsy, quiet determination: "breathe, build up, condense, release". A child's attempt to hug him pink, to send heat back in tiny, nearly imperceptible bursts. It's barely a murmur, but he lifts his voice in a half-whisper, dips his face to meet the blond's, ghosts tips of noses to extend his own touch; feverish hot, delirious sick.
His smile's drowsy, soft.]
Then take everything.
[Overconfidence. The type resulting from a last-ditch effort; mind barely lucid, though, dream-drunk.]
I think... [he lets the cough interrupt, then swallows shards back.] I was probably born for a time like this...
[A light deciding where he'll place himself; to whom he belongs, his own decision laid in Katsuki's hands; a little furnace, a candle; a shard of flint, a broken lamp.
Again, the smile.]
You're right that I'm an idiot, though...
[An honest half-baked dummy; too reserved, never voicing things he truly wants. Halving, still-terrified boy again. Heart holding things back.]
[The thing about being a vampire is that Katsuki is able to hear heartbeats. He can hear just how hard Shoto's heart was working to keep them warm. How it sputters and almost seems to stop for just a fraction of a second, before starting again to support his Quirk. Shoto has always been such a determined boy with so much to show to the world and to himself... Katsuki worries a little over his heart, but he knows that Shoto wouldn't let it stop completely in a moment like this. He's just trying to warm Katsuki up with all of his might.
When Shoto tells him to "take everything", he really meant everything. The older boy shifts to wrap him into a tight, heated hug. One where the warmth pulses with his breathing, sending small waves around the blonde to defrost his frozen heart. He wishes it were that easy, but the comfort from Shoto's desperate attempt to warm him up was enough. It was more than enough.
And Katsuki gives up using his own Quirk, as he can feel sleepiness sinking in. He clings his fingers into the fabric of his heater's shirt. Drawing in close, like a dying moth to a dwindling flame.
Warm... it's so warm and the boy who was "born for a time like this" was glowing like a dim lantern and he was so pretty. So protective. Something Katsuki has been keeping secret for so long. The way he loves to feel guarded and safe in the other boy's arms. He's been keeping it to himself for longer than he should be, and he knows it's the reason why he's so damn sick. He's had so many people tell him to spit it out already but... even like this, he can't really find the courage to say anything. Even if it bounces around in his mind as nose nuzzles against nose.
It's why it surprises him just a little to hear the coughing boy say something, with that dizzy looking smile on his face. Something about not "sharing" sooner... sharing what, exactly, is what the blonde wonders. So he asks in a sleepy yet curious sounding mumble:]
[Mn.] I liked you— [Slow and simply, and since his world's collapsed into its own small fragments. The shame can't touch, because death feels imminent in the way night feels imminent; inevitable. He squeezes back, leaves chin over shoulder to conceal his own cheeks, sweat; icy-damp from something else; pulls tighter and close with his heartbeats thick when his insides shake and his muscles twitch. Treasure in hold; confession as easily as snapping a stem, wanting to keep him.]
Since a while ago, I mean...
[Though at the least, his return to lucidity's ushered his true thoughts forward; returns him peace.]
[There's a sharp inhale of breath, and his heart which beats so slow feels as though it can't do it anymore when he hears the words "I liked you". Words he's been wanting to hear, secretly, for a little bit now. But words he also never entirely expected to hear, either. Katsuki never found himself easy to love, and part of him can't quite believe it when the other boy tells him that he's liked him for a while...
The only parts of Katsuki that he found worth of anyone's attention was his fighting prowess. His Quirk. His strategies in battle. His Heroism. Those were his strongest points, and the parts of him that he was most proud of. His social skills... they were lacking. He'd been getting better at playing nice and holding back his loud reactions, but the anger was still there. He still gets into the stupidest of arguments with his friends over the smallest things, and can blow stuff out of proportion and make things uncomfortable for everyone by getting angrier than necessary.
He finds that side of himself to be pretty damn shameful, and pretty damn hard to get along with. He's surprised, sometimes, that he's managed to make such close connections at all. His friends from school, the new friends he's made here, his found family... and now this.
This boy, who may as well be dying in his grasp, confessing that he's "liked him" without regrets "since a while ago".]
...you really must be sick if you're saying that you "like" someone as shitty as me.
[Is the response Katsuki finds himself saying, with a short cough punctuating his statement as he curls closer into the other boy. Allowing Shoto to tuck his face against his shoulder, glad that he can't see the stupid tears stinging the corners of his eyes. He'd been so worried over what Shoto would say or think if he ever confessed first... who knew that Shoto felt the same, and would end up saying something before Katsuki even could.
He feels like challenging the other boy's sudden confession, though. Poking at the reasons why someone would even like Katsuki in the first place, to see if he'll tell him the things he likes about him... though maybe he should just. Tell Shoto that he likes him back, instead. But Katsuki's never been able to do anything normally, and he doesn't really know how to properly respond to someone telling him that they have feelings for him. It's a situation he's never even daydreamed about.]
What is there for you to even "like"? The only good thing about me is my Quirk and how I use it.
[A shake of the head, stubborn insistence meeting with fierce objection; his deep understanding of his and Katsuki's own strengths beyond this. He's quietly sharp, keenly observant when it comes to the target of his affections. An intimate knowledge, Shoto feels, sourced from an upbringing caged inside and placed on the highest of pedestals. He "was" his Quirk, the boy's been told; created cruelly, existing simply as someone's tool and another man's mad grasp at strength.
And, though he's seemingly tucked his past behind, he recalls too sharply the earliest tears in his own odd, warped sense of self. Nightmares still, from time to time. Though even Katsuki—strong, too-capable Katsuki doubts his worth, and the thought floods the boy with an all-iced rage, all righteous fury in depths of himself when lifting his bright eyes to speak.
His lashes fall.]
Is that really how you see yourself...?
[The sum of his Quirk, measured in wins and perfect scores; paid for in limbs and the cost of his heart; nitro and napalm caught in the streams of his sweat. And here he is: confident, always-cocksure Katsuki, insecure and curled and small-voiced; all illusion, all facade to mask the soft, tender boy-heart wrapped in its thinned faux confidence; flimsy bravado still found in his strength to push back.
And wouldn't he know? A boy reduced to just his strengths; a knife, a rifle used recklessly and cold in an entirely one-sided war. And here, he still retreats, still sits blank when he sinks too low into memories not burrowed deep enough; knows the agony-cost in being the best, the expectations of class and self that strongest Quirks mean top results; the sharpening ache of endless growth, forced to stretch again, then pulled, shaped, molded, harsh demand rewarded with bloodier work; another notch above to climb, then two. Surpass one goal, surpass another in the dust from the first. But... he is more... and he'll drag the boy to the mirror he's made of himself. "You're like me when I was you". In efforts to tug him, tell him.]
You know... I had the thought—that first night that we'd performed—the way you smiled after, I realized-
[Their own potential; their real, true capacity beyond their Quirks; how much this "angry", biting blond had captured a strength beyond violence; that he couldn't possibly fail at his side.]
It was fun, before; all of it. The way we pushed ourselves so far, meeting new rivals and drawing real crowds... I wasn't afraid of that ambition at all...
[And for once, he understands the joy in true success; the true "Two Top".]
You've always been my Symbol of Strength, like that. The way you've reassured me, first; how when I see you, I feel relieved. Like no matter what, I'm sure I'll win- [That he can grow.]
And then I thought: "that's probably love". It's precisely because I feel that way; m'proud of my liking you more and more, that I decided on someone like you, that I'll keep making that same right choice; knowing I'd choose you every time- [A little "hum" escapes, then:]
I want tomorrow, and the day after that. And then next day, and the next. And all the days that follow that one...
[But, well:]
Just thinking that way...? I'd guess it's love. Wanting one person for that many days-
[Katsuki listens carefully as Shoto explains his feelings towards him. Holding his breath, afraid of missing even a single word, as if his own breathing would be too loud to hear over. It probably is a shock to learn that someone so confident with himself still has insecurities... but Katsuki is a person who is insecure at his base. The whole reason for years of bullying young Izuku was due to these insecurities. And they just shifted once he was finally happy with how his combat was going. Once he was no longer feeling behind his classmates, it shifted to being worried about his social skills. And lack thereof.
He's all too aware now that being nice and happy will bring more success as far as being a Hero goes. But he just can't bring himself to fake it when he's out with others. He knows he can be a kind person, but he doesn't identify with the word "kind". He identifies with "angry". "Violent". "Mean". Things that come more naturally to him, and make him feel strong.
Though, lately, with Shoto... it's a completely different story. More and more he shows his kinder side to the other boy, and feels comfortable doing so. Even more than with Izuku. He still argues and insults the green haired boy but he can't bring himself to make fun of Shoto in the same way. Sometimes the two argue, still, but he's more willing to let go of whatever he was mad about when it comes to the white and red haired boy.
Maybe, then, that means Katsuki could allow himself to be in love. Maybe.. he could be a good partner. No-- definitely. He could be a good one. The best one. If it was for Shoto.]
[The spiky haired boy listens quietly all the way until the end. Quiet as he tells him that he's Shoto's "Symbol of Strength". That Shoto felt proud of his heart choosing Katsuki. That he'd choose him every time. Katsuki is silent, but he has so many things that he wants to say. He felt so overwhelmed by Shoto's confession. So touched by the boy saying that he wants to spend the rest of his days with him. That he wants tomorrow, and the next day, all the way until the end of eternity-- god.
This was too much. And Katsuki's eyes threaten to water over with those crybaby tears he's never been able to outgrow. So when Shoto finishes speaking, Katsuki pulls himself away from the other boy and sits up. Slowly, facing away so he can wipe at his eyes with his one arm without Shoto seeing his tears.]
G-Goddammit... you're such an asshole. Saying all that s-sappy shit.
[Katsuki says that through grit teeth, as his tears spill over his cheeks and his heart burns through the cold ice. He's never had anyone say things like this to him before. His own parents barely ever tell him that they love him... he hated the word "love" so fiercely due to a lack of hearing it, yet here he was having it be told to him so point blank. So bluntly.
He knows he has to reciprocate and be just as blunt. So, after giving himself a moment to try and compose himself, he takes in a shaky breath and starts to explain.]
I... I never thought that I'd care about someone else this much. I didn't think I was capable of feeling anything even remotely close to... t-to "love".
[When Katsuki says "love" it sounds so foreign to him. Like he was trying out a new word in another language.]
But somehow, someway you brought that outta me. You showed me a side of myself that I never knew existed, and so much has changed. My goals are completely different. I used to only think about being a Hero but now?
I can't stop thinkin' about you.
[A cough starts to itch at Katsuki's throat, so he takes a pause to let it out into the crook of his elbow. Giving him a chance to think of how he wants to respond next. What to say. Katsuki has always been awful at speaking his true feelings, but with Shoto he found it to be a bit easier. He was kind of proud of what he's been able to say so far, and that pride gives him the courage to keep going.]
I-- I'm crazy about you. Whenever you're not around, I'm in a bad mood 'cuz I just sit there and think about how much I want you to be there with me. And I fucking hate it when people touch me, but I... I really like hugging you.
[Another fault of his upbringing... it's hard to enjoy or trust things like hugs when his mother would smack him even after something nice like a hug or she'd tell him to "man up" or insult him for crying over something she deemed "stupid". And when you go to someone for comfort and get insulted or hit instead, you start to learn to comfort yourself and flinch away from physical affection... but that's why it's such a big deal to him that he doesn't mind Shoto's hugs. That his body doesn't want to run away when it's the older boy touching him.]
You're the first person who's ever made me feel safe in their arms, and like I don't have to be on guard around you. You let me take a break from myself and I... I-I really need that.
[A break from the anger, the violence, the mean.]
I need you. And I want you. I want "us"... w-whatever the hell that means.
[Katsuki still can't look at Shoto even as he says this, his eyes bloodshot and wet and leaving him feeling all kinds of embarrassed. But there's also a part of him that feels so relieved and so happy to be saying these things out loud finally. To know that Shoto feels the same, and that there's no risk of a breakdown caused by rejection. And that they can now move forward together, and be "stronger" as Mike had put it months ago.
There's a lot of strength in love, and Shoto has shown Katsuki that.]
'n if we die from this stupid cold then at least we didn't die alone.
Edited (found a typo and then wanted to add some more flavour....) 2025-09-15 16:50 (UTC)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
two boys finally confess 🧡💙 sometime in the 20's of july
In the beginning, Katsuki tried his best to do what he could while he was sick. He continued to do his job as a nighttime traffic cop, and tried to do those test things with other people. But by the time day four hit, he was unable to get himself to leave the futon he shared with Shoto. Shoto, who also had been sick as a dog from day one. The two of them were suffering from the same symptoms and neither of them had the energy to do anything besides sleep by day five. And today, a couple of days later, was even worse... at least for Katsuki.
His chest felt like it was never going to heal. It felt as though his heart and lungs were ripped to shreds and his icy-cold blood was filling his chest-- and the only thing that helped even a little was physical contact. It worked a lot better with Izuku, who hadn't been infected yet but Katsuki spent every second where Izuku wasn't home cuddling with Shoto. It didn't help as much, but there was still a little bit of warmth that spread through his heart when he touched the other sick boy. And these feelings he's harbored for months now made it feel even warmer...
So today, Katsuki turns so he's facing Shoto in the futon and wraps his arm around him. Cuddling close with the other frigid boy in hopes it'll help give him the energy to get out of bed.]
...this sucks..
[He whispers that quietly to Shoto, who he isn't even sure is awake or not. He just needs to voice out his discomfort to anyone that would listen.]
I'm sorry, it's sappy and messy anyway...
He almost laughs.]
I always thought it'd be more violent than this...
[A death from war, or a Nomu; in Toya's arms, at Toya's feet when he'd bathed him in Blueflame a second time. His eyes slip closed, and then he's glowing against him dimmer than a firefly's light. When fingers drop to grasp fingers, it's with intent to squeeze small sparks from out of the lines of his palm. His mother's touch, his father's strength against Explosion's own sweat, to lend the other boy heat...
He sighs out frost.]
The end, I mean.
[If this is it...]
Sorry it's all the flame I have for now...
gathers this lovely tag to my chest 🌼
Katsuki could barely get himself to eat. He couldn't imagine trying to get to his feet and fight, right now. He's had to suspend his officer duties as it is.
It was embarrassing, honestly. Shameful. And he refuses the mere idea that the two of them were going to die like this. Shaking his head as the other boy calls this "the end", and continues to try and warm his cold body up.
He doesn't have much energy when his hand is taken into Shoto's, but when he feels the other boy squeeze he activates what he can. Warming his own palm back against Shoto's, and allowing little crackles and pops of sweat to bead out of his skin. Nothing crazy, not wanting to start a fire indoors or ruin Shoto's nice futon. Though.. he can't really make enough sweat to blow them up, anyway....
He just wants to help how he can. To feel like he did something, if this was truly their last moments together. If this illness was bad enough for it to get to that point, and their "dads" took too long to get the cure. At least Shoto wasn't the only one trying to warm the two of them up.]
Don't apologize, idiot...
[Katsuki's voice is so quiet and weak, a soft murmur and he closes his eyes for a moment just to try and focus on the warmth. As his body shivers in waves from the block of ice still residing in his chest.]
I'll take anything. It's so freaking c-cold...
<3
His fault. His fault, his fault.
"The boy born with everything", struggling to drag the smallest, tiniest warmth from under the depths of himself. That he's helpless occurs along with a sense of sobering guilt. And what else should he do? He hears his brother—his crackling voice and molten jaw—recalls his burning beyond his blood's own limits, and he grits his teeth as if forcing it might will the cold out. Still persisting, still a "worthless, half-baked puppet", searching his fog to grasp a third beyond his second use, to still remake himself.
But, Katsuki's here, and it's this that pulls the bravery out of his own pale heart; protecting, protected. When pale arms tighten, and inner furnace sparks once, twice, again the sputter with kick to an engine in the dead-white of winter; when "Half-Hot" damply pulses to life, heats dimly and shy with pink insistence and flush across plains of his skin. Thawing for Katsuki, for himself; to beg his body to wring stale warmth from bottoms of last-dregs reserves; to not let others find two dead boys and curling like deer in the woods. Again and again, the forced resolve. But Toya help him, he squeezes tight to press reassurance between the other boy's ribs, his right and left in agreeance, exchanging his cold with the last few drops of his dwindling blood-heat's reserves. And again, another's voice; his brother's second, insistent demand that he's his strength in the palms of his hands; his tiny, generator heart, exhausting his Quirk and last few options both.
Because his very name, Shoto, suggests to others all the boy seems capable of. That what he is: a burning, freezing and two extremes, two full halves pressed together, two seasons merged to offer artificial sunlight, lights warmth all over; balmy sheen beneath his fringe, where palms and fingers press. His hold is summer, all sweat and will, and clumsy, quiet determination: "breathe, build up, condense, release". A child's attempt to hug him pink, to send heat back in tiny, nearly imperceptible bursts. It's barely a murmur, but he lifts his voice in a half-whisper, dips his face to meet the blond's, ghosts tips of noses to extend his own touch; feverish hot, delirious sick.
His smile's drowsy, soft.]
Then take everything.
[Overconfidence. The type resulting from a last-ditch effort; mind barely lucid, though, dream-drunk.]
I think... [he lets the cough interrupt, then swallows shards back.] I was probably born for a time like this...
[A light deciding where he'll place himself; to whom he belongs, his own decision laid in Katsuki's hands; a little furnace, a candle; a shard of flint, a broken lamp.
Again, the smile.]
You're right that I'm an idiot, though...
[An honest half-baked dummy; too reserved, never voicing things he truly wants. Halving, still-terrified boy again. Heart holding things back.]
Not sharing things sooner.
no subject
When Shoto tells him to "take everything", he really meant everything. The older boy shifts to wrap him into a tight, heated hug. One where the warmth pulses with his breathing, sending small waves around the blonde to defrost his frozen heart. He wishes it were that easy, but the comfort from Shoto's desperate attempt to warm him up was enough. It was more than enough.
And Katsuki gives up using his own Quirk, as he can feel sleepiness sinking in. He clings his fingers into the fabric of his heater's shirt. Drawing in close, like a dying moth to a dwindling flame.
Warm... it's so warm and the boy who was "born for a time like this" was glowing like a dim lantern and he was so pretty. So protective. Something Katsuki has been keeping secret for so long. The way he loves to feel guarded and safe in the other boy's arms. He's been keeping it to himself for longer than he should be, and he knows it's the reason why he's so damn sick. He's had so many people tell him to spit it out already but... even like this, he can't really find the courage to say anything. Even if it bounces around in his mind as nose nuzzles against nose.
It's why it surprises him just a little to hear the coughing boy say something, with that dizzy looking smile on his face. Something about not "sharing" sooner... sharing what, exactly, is what the blonde wonders. So he asks in a sleepy yet curious sounding mumble:]
...sharing things?
no subject
Since a while ago, I mean...
[Though at the least, his return to lucidity's ushered his true thoughts forward; returns him peace.]
I've never regretted it even once, though.
no subject
The only parts of Katsuki that he found worth of anyone's attention was his fighting prowess. His Quirk. His strategies in battle. His Heroism. Those were his strongest points, and the parts of him that he was most proud of. His social skills... they were lacking. He'd been getting better at playing nice and holding back his loud reactions, but the anger was still there. He still gets into the stupidest of arguments with his friends over the smallest things, and can blow stuff out of proportion and make things uncomfortable for everyone by getting angrier than necessary.
He finds that side of himself to be pretty damn shameful, and pretty damn hard to get along with. He's surprised, sometimes, that he's managed to make such close connections at all. His friends from school, the new friends he's made here, his found family... and now this.
This boy, who may as well be dying in his grasp, confessing that he's "liked him" without regrets "since a while ago".]
...you really must be sick if you're saying that you "like" someone as shitty as me.
[Is the response Katsuki finds himself saying, with a short cough punctuating his statement as he curls closer into the other boy. Allowing Shoto to tuck his face against his shoulder, glad that he can't see the stupid tears stinging the corners of his eyes. He'd been so worried over what Shoto would say or think if he ever confessed first... who knew that Shoto felt the same, and would end up saying something before Katsuki even could.
He feels like challenging the other boy's sudden confession, though. Poking at the reasons why someone would even like Katsuki in the first place, to see if he'll tell him the things he likes about him... though maybe he should just. Tell Shoto that he likes him back, instead. But Katsuki's never been able to do anything normally, and he doesn't really know how to properly respond to someone telling him that they have feelings for him. It's a situation he's never even daydreamed about.]
What is there for you to even "like"? The only good thing about me is my Quirk and how I use it.
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And, though he's seemingly tucked his past behind, he recalls too sharply the earliest tears in his own odd, warped sense of self. Nightmares still, from time to time. Though even Katsuki—strong, too-capable Katsuki doubts his worth, and the thought floods the boy with an all-iced rage, all righteous fury in depths of himself when lifting his bright eyes to speak.
His lashes fall.]
Is that really how you see yourself...?
[The sum of his Quirk, measured in wins and perfect scores; paid for in limbs and the cost of his heart; nitro and napalm caught in the streams of his sweat. And here he is: confident, always-cocksure Katsuki, insecure and curled and small-voiced; all illusion, all facade to mask the soft, tender boy-heart wrapped in its thinned faux confidence; flimsy bravado still found in his strength to push back.
And wouldn't he know? A boy reduced to just his strengths; a knife, a rifle used recklessly and cold in an entirely one-sided war. And here, he still retreats, still sits blank when he sinks too low into memories not burrowed deep enough; knows the agony-cost in being the best, the expectations of class and self that strongest Quirks mean top results; the sharpening ache of endless growth, forced to stretch again, then pulled, shaped, molded, harsh demand rewarded with bloodier work; another notch above to climb, then two. Surpass one goal, surpass another in the dust from the first. But... he is more... and he'll drag the boy to the mirror he's made of himself. "You're like me when I was you". In efforts to tug him, tell him.]
You know... I had the thought—that first night that we'd performed—the way you smiled after, I realized-
[Their own potential; their real, true capacity beyond their Quirks; how much this "angry", biting blond had captured a strength beyond violence; that he couldn't possibly fail at his side.]
It was fun, before; all of it. The way we pushed ourselves so far, meeting new rivals and drawing real crowds... I wasn't afraid of that ambition at all...
[And for once, he understands the joy in true success; the true "Two Top".]
You've always been my Symbol of Strength, like that. The way you've reassured me, first; how when I see you, I feel relieved. Like no matter what, I'm sure I'll win- [That he can grow.]
And then I thought: "that's probably love". It's precisely because I feel that way; m'proud of my liking you more and more, that I decided on someone like you, that I'll keep making that same right choice; knowing I'd choose you every time- [A little "hum" escapes, then:]
I want tomorrow, and the day after that. And then next day, and the next. And all the days that follow that one...
[But, well:]
Just thinking that way...? I'd guess it's love. Wanting one person for that many days-
[Putting it simply, casual...]
It's not more complicated than that, I'd think.
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He's all too aware now that being nice and happy will bring more success as far as being a Hero goes. But he just can't bring himself to fake it when he's out with others. He knows he can be a kind person, but he doesn't identify with the word "kind". He identifies with "angry". "Violent". "Mean". Things that come more naturally to him, and make him feel strong.
Though, lately, with Shoto... it's a completely different story. More and more he shows his kinder side to the other boy, and feels comfortable doing so. Even more than with Izuku. He still argues and insults the green haired boy but he can't bring himself to make fun of Shoto in the same way. Sometimes the two argue, still, but he's more willing to let go of whatever he was mad about when it comes to the white and red haired boy.
Maybe, then, that means Katsuki could allow himself to be in love. Maybe.. he could be a good partner. No-- definitely. He could be a good one. The best one. If it was for Shoto.]
[The spiky haired boy listens quietly all the way until the end. Quiet as he tells him that he's Shoto's "Symbol of Strength". That Shoto felt proud of his heart choosing Katsuki. That he'd choose him every time. Katsuki is silent, but he has so many things that he wants to say. He felt so overwhelmed by Shoto's confession. So touched by the boy saying that he wants to spend the rest of his days with him. That he wants tomorrow, and the next day, all the way until the end of eternity-- god.
This was too much. And Katsuki's eyes threaten to water over with those crybaby tears he's never been able to outgrow. So when Shoto finishes speaking, Katsuki pulls himself away from the other boy and sits up. Slowly, facing away so he can wipe at his eyes with his one arm without Shoto seeing his tears.]
G-Goddammit... you're such an asshole. Saying all that s-sappy shit.
[Katsuki says that through grit teeth, as his tears spill over his cheeks and his heart burns through the cold ice. He's never had anyone say things like this to him before. His own parents barely ever tell him that they love him... he hated the word "love" so fiercely due to a lack of hearing it, yet here he was having it be told to him so point blank. So bluntly.
He knows he has to reciprocate and be just as blunt. So, after giving himself a moment to try and compose himself, he takes in a shaky breath and starts to explain.]
I... I never thought that I'd care about someone else this much. I didn't think I was capable of feeling anything even remotely close to... t-to "love".
[When Katsuki says "love" it sounds so foreign to him. Like he was trying out a new word in another language.]
But somehow, someway you brought that outta me. You showed me a side of myself that I never knew existed, and so much has changed. My goals are completely different. I used to only think about being a Hero but now?
I can't stop thinkin' about you.
[A cough starts to itch at Katsuki's throat, so he takes a pause to let it out into the crook of his elbow. Giving him a chance to think of how he wants to respond next. What to say. Katsuki has always been awful at speaking his true feelings, but with Shoto he found it to be a bit easier. He was kind of proud of what he's been able to say so far, and that pride gives him the courage to keep going.]
I-- I'm crazy about you. Whenever you're not around, I'm in a bad mood 'cuz I just sit there and think about how much I want you to be there with me. And I fucking hate it when people touch me, but I... I really like hugging you.
[Another fault of his upbringing... it's hard to enjoy or trust things like hugs when his mother would smack him even after something nice like a hug or she'd tell him to "man up" or insult him for crying over something she deemed "stupid". And when you go to someone for comfort and get insulted or hit instead, you start to learn to comfort yourself and flinch away from physical affection... but that's why it's such a big deal to him that he doesn't mind Shoto's hugs. That his body doesn't want to run away when it's the older boy touching him.]
You're the first person who's ever made me feel safe in their arms, and like I don't have to be on guard around you. You let me take a break from myself and I... I-I really need that.
[A break from the anger, the violence, the mean.]
I need you. And I want you. I want "us"... w-whatever the hell that means.
[Katsuki still can't look at Shoto even as he says this, his eyes bloodshot and wet and leaving him feeling all kinds of embarrassed. But there's also a part of him that feels so relieved and so happy to be saying these things out loud finally. To know that Shoto feels the same, and that there's no risk of a breakdown caused by rejection. And that they can now move forward together, and be "stronger" as Mike had put it months ago.
There's a lot of strength in love, and Shoto has shown Katsuki that.]
'n if we die from this stupid cold then at least we didn't die alone.