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There are a lot of things people are amazed at when it comes to Bakugou Katsuki. The thing that stands out the most – especially since it comes from a man with so little patience and an explosive temperament – is his unsuspecting love for botany.
Unfitting, people comment. Fuck you, Katsuki usually replies back.
His love for botany might be a leftover from the anger management. Perhaps it is not, he’s still unsure, but little does that matter now that having his flowers and plants greet him every day in a myriad of colors and aromas, are some of the things that bring him both pleasure and peace.
In an ideal world he would look after his flower shop and get paid for it without having to deal with an annoying element attached to his work; namely bother, namely aggravation, namely humans.
And that day, the worst of them is about to enter his flower shop and his life.
It’s late in the afternoon when the door chimes announcing the arrival of a new customer but Katsuki doesn’t even bother to turn around to welcome them. Upon the season, most people that come to his flower shop linger around for a while and then leave without buying anything.
Valentine’s Day, after all, makes people tether between the bravery rush to confess and the safe yet standstill conformism of not doing anything. Katsuki finds such a lack of engagement and indecisiveness annoying and disgustingly cowardly.
It’s not his problem though, or rather he doesn’t bother to make it his… unlike Kirishima Eijirou; his self-proclaimed best friend who is always ready to help and stupidly eager to be part of yet another love story that will most likely not come to fruition.
“Good Afternoon! What can I do for you?” Eijirou welcomes.
Katsuki doesn't have the interest to regard the customer or the conversation that follows.
“Okay! We will, thank you very much!” Eijirou says after a while and the door chimes again, announcing the customer’s departure.
Katsuki’s temper rises yet again. “Who the fuck was that? What did they want?”
‘Why didn’t the fucker buy my flowers?’
Eijirou is looking at a card, inspecting it. Then he reads out loud, “Peace Sign.”
“What?”
“We have new neighbors.” Eijirou grins and looks across the street from the window. There, in front of his flower shop, and where there was once an empty building, a sign in big, bold letters makes the world know that a tattoo parlor has come to town.
Katsuki clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Great! Now we have punks and druggies in the neighborhood.”
“Well, that’s mean. The guy that came to say hi was kind and really cute.”
Katsuki squints his eyes at Eijirou. His friend is known for being too trustful and having bad judgment. He’s the kind of person who calls a three-legged, one-eyed cat cute.
“Whatever. As long as they don’t fuck with us I don’t care.”
“I know!” Eijirou hits the palm of his hand with his fist, ignoring Katsuki. “How about if we go and give them a plant? Like a ‘Welcome’ kind of thing.”
“How about no?”
“No one has taken interest in the Dracaena. Maybe we can give them that one.”
“No.”
“What about Spidey? It would look good at their place I bet— all wild and punk-like.”
Spidey, the Spider plant – unoriginally named it by Katsuki himself – won’t look good at their place. In fact, any plant that Eijirou decides to gift them won’t look good at their place because all of them belong to Katsuki’s shop.
“I said no!”
Eijirou of course, having been friends with him for so long is unfazed by the threatening tone and takes the plant with him. “C’mon, let’s go say hi.”
“No—stop! Release Spidey or I’ll fucking kill you! Stop, god dammit!”
The redhead is already halfway across the street with Katsuki close on his heels.
When they reach the store Eijirou hesitates a second before he opens the door. Katsuki has no other choice but to follow him if he wants to save his hostage child. His attempts to take Spidey back are put to a halt when he sees the inside of the place.
Unlike what he was expecting, everything looks fairly normal. There are no dark walls, no skulls, and no funny smells. It’s normal enough to be a tad disappointing. The only remarkable thing to mention are the boxes randomly dispersed around. It seems that they haven’t finished unpacking yet.
“Ah! We’re not open yet, I’m sorr—oh it’s you!”
Katsuki is still too busy inspecting the place to glance at the speaker, but he recognizes the mild baritone from the same person who came to his store minutes earlier.
“It’s me!” Eijirou greets back and moves to deliver the plant. Katsuki would stop him if not for the sight at the back of the room that takes all of his attention.
“What the actual fuck?” he asks slowly and as dramatically as possible. Katsuki marches past Eijirou, past a green blob he has no time to regard properly, and crosses the store to stand in front of the desk that’s in the back. On top of it, there’s a pot with a yellowish, dry and most likely agonizing cactus.
Katsuki takes it in his hands and turns around, his face scrunched in outrage. “Who the fuck is the responsible for this?!”
“Is there something wrong?” the green blob asks, startled.
The angry words that are on the tip of his tongue remain attached to it as he finally sees him. As expected from Eijirou’s judgment, calling the guy cute is an understatement. He has big, clear green eyes and a constellation of freckles to match. His right ear is adorned with piercings, there’s one in his left brow, and another one under his lower lip, right in the middle of his chin. His messy curls are grabbed in a low ponytail and he’s wearing a black tank top that shows off his tattoos; colorful and running all through the length of his fit, right arm.
Katsuki admits in the back of his mind, where the sirens going off loudly in alarm for the dying cactus can’t reach, that the guy is somewhat decent. More on the lines of acceptably-looking than actually worth-looking-twice decent.
Sadly, no fit muscles or good-looking face will take away the fact that he’s a plant murdering punk.
“You!” Katsuki jabs an accusing finger at him. The guy flinches and points to himself dumbly. “You asshole! Are you even aware you’re torturing him?!”
“I—I don’t understand. Who’s him?”
“The cactus… he means the cactus,” Eijirou adds, sighing tiredly with his hand cradling his forehead.
“I can’t believe this! Are you fucking blind?! How long has he been in these inhumane conditions?!”
The guy looks unsure and keeps looking back and forth between him and Eijirou. “I’m sorry, who is this person?”
“He’s my coworker,” Eijirou answers, “his name is—”
“None of your business. And I’m saving him before he dies altogether. Good luck killing the rest of the life left in your store!”
“Wait!” the guy yells behind his back, but Katsuki is already out of the store.
-
Unlike what Katsuki was expecting, the punk doesn’t chase him to take back his cactus. Such indifference fuels both his disappointment and annoyance.
“He’s not a punk. He’s a tattoo artist,” Eijirou corrects him when he comes back after taking his sweet time in the tattoo parlor. “And his name is Midoriya Izuku.”
Katsuki considers that a totally unnecessary piece of information. For all he cares the guy’s name is either ‘punk’ or ‘plant murderer’. Both are quite accurate.
“Whatever. I don’t give a fuck.”
He doesn’t, but of course, Eijirou does. It’s not a surprise when he befriends the green, murdering bean so easily after just a couple of minutes. It’s not a surprise either when he gushes over him as if he’s a little kid with a new friend.
“—and then he showed me some of the tattoos he’s done before and man, they’re awesome! I’d considered getting one myself before but I never actually got really into the idea until now. I think I might do it. Do you think it will hurt?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. Wouldn’t trust a guy who doesn’t know how to take care of a living thing with a needle near me.”
“C’mon, it can happen to anyone,” Eijirou defends.
“It’s a fucking cactus! Cacti don’t even need that much care! If he managed to let it come to this point then fuck—the guy has no regard or care for anything! It speaks awfully of him!”
It does speak awfully of him, Katsuki thinks in irritation as he waters the plant. The poor cactus has been treated and all the rotting parts have been cut off leaving behind a tiny stem barely peeking from the clean, fresh soil he transferred it to. It looks so tiny and barely alive but Katsuki is not giving up on it.
“We got ten percent off for being neighbors,” Eijirou says as he slides a card on the counter.
“What part of I don’t fucking care don’t you understand?”
“Hey! Maybe it was a bad start for you but if you give him a chance—”
“There are no more chances for plant murderers in my house.”
“—maybe you’d like him and who knows… maybe you can be friends!”
Katsuki befriending that guy? A punk, possibly druggie without regards to innocent plants?
Katsuki snorts loudly.
Preposterous.
-
After so many days of thinking about it – and driving Katsuki to a wall thanks to his indecisiveness — Eijirou finally decides to get a tattoo. That’s how one week later after ‘Peace Sign’ came to town, both of them find themselves in the tattoo parlor for the second time.
Eijirou is there to plan his new tattoo, and the only reason Katsuki let himself get dragged along was to retrieve Spidey who was forgotten in the commotion last time.
A week is not enough to kill a plant, but he wouldn’t trust this guy after seeing the cactus’ state. And so, the first thing he does upon barging into the parlor is make a beeline for Spidey to inspect it.
Izuku sounds confused rather than offended by his rudeness when he asks Eijirou about it. Katsuki doesn’t care either way. He inspects the plant thoroughly and nods to himself when he finds no other problem than Spidey looking a bit over watered. Overall it’s in good condition.
Good. No one has to die today.
“So… Bakugou-kun,” Izuku starts, stopping him midway from carrying Spidey. Katsuki groans and sends a glare at Eijirou who feigns innocence. Of course the redhead would tell the guy his name.
When he turns to Izuku, he finds his eyes fixed on his head, where Katsuki suspects he’s eying his hairpin.
“Wanna say something, you dickwad?”
Izuku goes back to smiling and asks in an incredibly annoying, bubbly tone, “How much is the ransom for my cactus?”
Katsuki is offended by the question. “I didn’t kidnap him, I saved him,” he corrects.
“My dad gave it to me you know,” Izuku continues, “I’m emotionally attached to it.”
Katsuki squints his eyes at him. “Forgive me for calling that bullshit…”
“Don’t worry, Midoriya!” Eijirou cuts in before Izuku can say something. “He’ll give it back when the cactus heals. Right now it’s in the E.R, so give it another week or two.”
“E.R?” Izuku asks, sending him an incredulous look.
“Katsuki has a special section in the back of the flower shop,” Eijirou explains.
“Would you shut up? Why don’t you tell him my blood type or my bank account number?!”
Eijirou laughs.
“I’m serious,” Izuku says, giving him a pointed glance. “I want the cactus back eventually.”
Katsuki is not a plant-napper. He never actually intended to keep it. Regardless, he is not keen on letting go of this guy’s insult to the plant so easily. “First you gotta ask for his forgiveness.”
Izuku rolls his eyes up and deadpans, “I’m sorry cactus.”
“Not now asshole! Is he here for you to apologize?! And what’s with that tone?! Just because of your insolence, next time you got to do it dogeza!”
Izuku grimaces and addresses Eijirou. “Is he serious?”
“He’s always serious when it comes to plants and flowers, but don’t worry! It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Eijirou laughs it off.
Katsuki takes the pot in his arms and walks up to the door, clearly uninterested in continuing the conversation. Eijirou’s chastising eyes at him, followed by an apology to Izuku on his behalf are totally unnecessary so he ignores them both. But the soft, unsure voice replying back to his friend makes his steps halt.
“Um… It’s okay Kirishima-kun. I appreciate it but I think it’ll be better if the plant is back at your place,” Izuku dismisses.
Katsuki growls and turns around, annoyed at his indifference. “Are you saying Spidey is not good enough for your place, asshole?”
Izuku flinches. “What? N-no, I didn’t mean it like that!”
“Then what the fuck did you mean?!”
For someone with a rough exterior, Midoriya Izuku proves to be too soft and spineless – very much like a dying cactus.
“I just don’t want to accidentally kill it!” he states as he flails his hands wildly in the air.
Katsuki has a revelation. It comes so easily. The image of the kanjis written at the bottom of the cactus’s pot and the scene in front of him appear in his mind. They merge in a single word, one that takes no longer than a heartbeat to make it past his lips all wrapped in raw condescension and mockery.
“Deku.”
The word, even when softly uttered, halts Izuku from his insufferable chanting. “Wha—?”
“That’s you. Deku. You can’t do shit.”
A fitting name, indeed. But Izuku—now Deku – pouts in disagreement. Eijirou on the other hand, looks displeased at him but doesn’t stop him when he opens the door to leave.
For the second time, he leaves ‘Peace Sign’ once again with a pot in his hands and a pouty tattoo artist behind his back.
-
“Fuck no,” Katsuki sneers behind the counter when Izuku enters the flower shop two days later. “Want to kill another innocent plant? Not on my watch, asshole!”
“I'm not an 'asshole'!” Izuku whines.
“I don't know… you look like one to me,” Katsuki mutters under his breath.
Izuku sighs. He's in the middle of his shop; arms akimbo, his mouth tilted while he keeps darting his eyes left to right as if he's looking for something. Katsuki grows annoyed by the sight.
"Did you lose something? Or did you just come to prance around my shop like a fucking goat?"
“Where’s Kirishima-kun?”
“Not here.”
Izuku doesn’t get discouraged by his rude dismissal. Instead, he scratches the back of his neck and the flexing of his arm doesn't go unnoticed by Katsuki. That stupidly worn out, sleeveless t-shirt does little to conceal the muscles that might not be as big as his or Eijirou's, but are defined enough to know that the guy must do some kind of workout. They have Katsuki inadvertently staring.
"I came to see some flowers," Izuku says. At Katsuki’s visible intentions to kick him out of the shop, he quickly elaborates, “it’s for Kirishima-kun’s tattoo.”
“Can’t you google that shit?”
“I could,” Izuku agrees, sauntering in the shop and taking in the place. Katsuki follows him with his eyes, weirdly curious and feeling kind enough to let him. For now. “But I thought real flowers would be better than a picture. Besides…”
Izuku trails off to lean over the gardenias. Katsuki is annoyed to find the colors of his flowers contrasting quite nicely against the green of Izuku’s hair.
“What?” Katsuki asks impatiently, resting his face on his fist.
“Besides.” Izuku smiles and turns to look at him. “I came to see my cactus.”
Katsuki crosses his arms over his chest. "What makes you think he wants to see you?"
"I've had my cactus for a very long while," Izuku explains coming closer to the counter and leaning forward, giving Katsuki an eyeful of his pecs over his loose t-shirt. Katsuki remains determined not to let his eyes wander. "I was serious when I said I was really attached to it."
"Again, I call bullshit," Katsuki deadpans, moving away from the counter to spray some flowers. Expectedly, Izuku follows him.
"My dad gave it to me a long while ago... and recently he left overseas and well… our goodbye wasn’t— we parted on bad terms and I admit that I kind of neglected it—"
"So what? Just because you had a little fight with ‘daddy’ you took it all out on your cactus? That’s so fucking stupid, don’t you think?"
It was a rhetorical question, but somehow the sheepish look and the neck scratching – can he stop that? It’s really distracting! – is the reply Katsuki gets.
"Well, that's bullshit!" Katsuki gets closer to Izuku, suddenly peeved, and jabs a finger into his chest. "If you have daddy issues then fucking solve them, you bastard! I can't believe the cactus has to suffer because of your incompetence."
Perhaps he's being too harsh on the guy, but Katsuki has never been known for being patient. The fact that he’s never had problems with his parents outside the regular squabbles of 'Katsuki you better visit us soon you ungrateful brat' speak so little of the kind of empathy he can offer.
"Wow..." Izuku finally says, breaking the silence. "You're really intense when it comes to plants, huh?"
The tone is one of awe, there's no anger, not even annoyance in it as Katsuki had expected.
"Well, I guess you're right..." Izuku admits softly after a pause.
"Of course I'm right!"
"You're also very humble I see..."
Katsuki gives him the middle finger before continuing to water the plants.
“Okay, okay…” Izuku says, standing up next to him when he offers nothing to fill the silence. “I’ll try to do something with my issues, but can I see my cactus for a moment, please?”
It must be because Katsuki finds Izuku's closeness unsettling or because it's hard to say no to him when he’s smiling softly and he does that thing with his eyes. The look that resembles a kicked puppy and that makes him suspect Eijirou must have helped him achieve. Either way, Katsuki feels benevolent enough to spit a "Whatever, just wait here" and leaves for the back of his shop.
A moment later he comes back carrying the cactus. It's greener and sturdier than a week ago, and even though it barely rises from above the soil, Izuku smiles when he sees it. Apparently its height is an insignificant detail for him.
"It looks so healthy and green!" Izuku walks forward to meet him with his hand reaching out to take the pot but Katsuki pulls it out of his reach.
"What did I tell you?" Katsuki’s question has Izuku frowning and deep in thought. A second later he blinks and understanding settles on his face.
"Are you serious?" Izuku grimaces in disbelief.
"I'm always serious when it comes to plants, Deku."
Izuku sighs tiredly and starts flatly, "I'm so—"
"Dogeza!"
Izuku grimaces and grunts softly. A second goes by, then another without either of them moving. And when it’s clear that Katsuki has been serious all along, Izuku sighs tiredly before he kneels and lets his forehead touch the floor.
"I'm sorry," he apologizes, dragging the words.
Katsuki takes out his cell phone and raises his arm. The front camera faces him and the shot is taken with him in the right corner of the screen, cradling the pot in with his left arm while Izuku's frame is seen on the left, still in dogeza and unaware of everything.
"Perfect," Katsuki mutters and turns around to address Izuku. "Okay, idiot. You can have your goddamn cactus."
Izuku rises, smile already on his mouth and erased a moment later by Katsuki's words. “But not without passing some tests first.”
“Tests?”
“I’m not giving it back yet! First you have to prove you’ll take care good care of it!”
Izuku pouts, and Katsuki can't help but notice the way it accentuates the piercing under his lower lip. “And how am I supposed to do that?”
Katsuki pulls a book out from behind the front counter and shoves it into Izuku’s chest. “Study!”
“Are you seri—?”
“The fuck did I say? I’m always serious when it comes to plants and flowers.”
Izuku looks as if he’s considering if the trouble is worth it. He sends one quick glance at the pot and then another to the book.
“Do I have to read it all?”
“The book isn’t even that big. Stop whining!”
He could let Izuku get away with just reading the cacti chapter, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. And in this case, it’s better for Katsuki to go through the pain of ingraining botanic knowledge in Izuku’s messy, curly head instead of having another plant suffering because of his negligence.
“I’ll let you come and see the flowers for hair-for-brain’s tattoo if you do,” he bargains.
Izuku, who is already flipping through pages, perks up at his words. “Really?”
Katsuki nods and Izuku hugs the book closer to his chest and smiles. There are no words exchanged and the empty momentum lacking sounds causes, all of the sudden, a wave of self-consciousness to fall over Katsuki. He clears his throat loudly and in an attempt to dissipate whatever it is that has befallen them, he says, “Don’t you have a parlor to attend? Get out!”
“Yes, yes…” Izuku nods in tired exasperation. He doesn’t seem to take offense at being kicked out when he walks calmly to the door.
Just before leaving he turns around and tosses from over his shoulder, "I’ll come back later with my sketchbook! Thanks, Kacchan."
"Kacchan?!” Katsuki’s eye twitches and then he strides to the door. “What the fuck—?! Come back here, asshole!"
Izuku is already halfway to his parlor, leaving behind the echo of his laughter, a flustered Katsuki, and a nickname that the latter won’t be able to get rid of.
-
Just like Izuku promised, he comes back later that day with a big smile on his face, a sketchbook under his arm, and some pencils in his pockets. Katsuki squints his eyes at him but Izuku’s confident stride towards the roses doesn’t falter.
The name ‘Kacchan’ still echoes inside his mind and Katsuki is annoyed at being unable to show his displeasure like he wants. Eijirou’s lessons about customer service – annoying, albeit well ingrained in his brain now – are the only thing that stops him from causing a scene in front of the jittery patron he’s dealing with.
Still, that doesn’t make it easier to deal with the soft but knowledgeable smile Izuku has on his face and the quick wave he greets him with. It makes Katsuki suspicious that Izuku must have been waiting for a favorable moment to lower the chances of getting kicked out.
Katsuki groans again as the chant of ‘customer service’ keeps repeating in his mind. He really, really hates Eijirou’s days off. How is he supposed to know what the merits of choosing a flower that matches the patron’s significant other’s eyes are?
Finally, after a few torturous minutes and when his patience is almost reaching its lowest point, the patron leaves with a bouquet of roses and Katsuki is off to find the intruder.
“Oi, Deku! What the fuck did you call—?”
Katsuki halts. He doesn’t want to let go of the reprimand dangling at the tip of his tongue, but when he finds Izuku behind one of the shelves – so lost in his drawing to regard him properly – Katsuki’s aggravation starts to deflate.
Izuku is staring intently at the vase of flowers in front of him in a half-squat position; his folded knee folded acting as support for his sketchbook. His tongue peeks out from between his lips and a frown of concentration makes his brows come together.
If Katsuki were to be more mindful about the creative process or whatever it is that Izuku is doing – a bit creepily too, he has to add – he would stop himself from disturbing him. Too bad Katsuki doesn’t give a shit. He prods him lightly with his foot. Soft enough just to make him wobble.
“Oi, dumbass—”
“What is this flower called?” Izuku asks, balancing himself back to his previous position and seemingly unbothered by his action.
Katsuki eyes him and begrudgingly answers after a pause. “Snapdragon.”
“Snapdragon,” Izuku repeats languorously. His voice is deep and steady and his eyes never move away from the vase. If it’s awe or just plain appreciation that Izuku’s eyes hold for the flower, Katsuki is not sure. But whatever it is, is enough to calm down the intent to pick a fight with him.
If more people were to look at his flowers the way Izuku is right now, his mood would improve so, so very much.
“I thought you’d go with roses. Hair-for-brain’s likes red roses.”
Izuku nods and gets back to sketching in his notebook. “Kirishima-kun told me roses were good but I could always improvise. Besides… don’t you think it looks like him?”
Katsuki eyes the flower. The dense spike of clustered blooms that rises up in vibrant red is a fitting choice for Eijirou’s tattoo. Katsuki agrees.
“Does it have a meaning?” Izuku asks.
“Strength.”
Izuku’s smile grows. “Perfect.”
That’s the last sound that comes from Izuku’s mouth. Then, the soft rustle of paper and the scratches of pencil on it fills the area.
Katsuki knows it’s rude, but he can’t care less when he stands next to Izuku and takes a peek at his drawings.
“I guess you’re not totally a Deku, Deku.”
Izuku hums vaguely and Katsuki steps away. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back on the wall, perpendicular to Izuku. He doesn’t have anything else to do for the day, so might as well make sure that Izuku’s wrecking, plant-murderer hands stay away from his children.
But, for someone who’s supposed to watch Izuku’s hands, Katsuki ends up spending all of his time gazing at his face instead.
-
Eijirou’s tattoo design goes through a week-long ‘creative process’.
It’s seven days in which Katsuki has to deal with Izuku coming to his shop randomly to get more ‘inspiration’. Katsuki can smell that lie after the third day like a shark would smell blood miles away. He is not one to miss mockery no matter how well concealed it is. No matter how overshadowed it gets under that seemingly innocent smile and the ‘Hello Kacchan’ tossed at him with a half-assed wave.
“Teasing bastard likes to play with fire,” he growls, earning him a non-committal sound behind his back.
“If his presence bothers you so much then why don’t you just give him the Snapdragon?” Eijirou asks in a tone that Katsuki doesn’t like. A condescending, almost knowledgeable tone someone who already knows the answer, but still wants to hear it out loud from the source itself, uses.
“Are you crazy? He’s going to kill it!”
Katsuki doesn’t want to admit that part of the reason he won’t give it away, is because it’s kind of refreshing to look at someone who gazes at his flowers with such an enraptured interest. A rare occurrence nowadays. So even if Izuku’s presence piques at a restlessness he doesn’t know how to address, he lets him stay.
When the seven days pass by and the tattoo design is finished with Eijirou’s approval, they’re back in ‘Peace Sign’ to get it done.
Katsuki is feeling kind enough to allow Eijirou to drag him to the parlor for ‘witnessing his first tattoo’ and also, ‘get full rights on taking a video with him in pain’. Katsuki likes that last part.
Just as foreseen, there is pain. Amidst Eijirou’s grunts – barely drowned out with a half-assed laugh – as Izuku starts to outline his tattoo, and amidst the unavoidable chit-chat Katsuki is forced to listen, he learns that Eijirou and Izuku are now pen-pals.
That’s how, despite not knowing anything about it – or rather, Katsuki ignoring that he did – Eijirou unpromptedly comments, “Midoriya told me you’re holding a ransom for the cactus."
"It's not a ransom! I'm not a kidnapper!" Katsuki glares at Eijirou and then at Izuku when the later hums mockingly.
"If he could talk he'd say how much he misses me," Izuku says.
"If he could talk he'd say he doesn't want to come back to this piggery," Katsuki rebukes.
Eijirou laughs. The pain in his arm momentarily forgotten as he says with a big grin on his face, "The way you talk about the cactus makes it look as if you're parents fighting over his custody."
"Shouldn't you be in pain? Shut up!"
"Now that I think about it," Eijirou continues, "The cactus has Midoriya’s greenness and your thorns. So it's almost as if he's your child."
Katsuki eye twitches and he spits, “It would be an ugly ass child if it comes from him.”
Izuku is not bothered by the jab.
“Don’t call our child ugly… the book you gave me said that they’re quite sensitive to their parents’ opinion,” Izuku calmly replies, not even raising his eyes from Eijirou’s arm. "I'm calling him Cactusi now, by the way."
Katsuki has the childish urge to throw something at him and erase that teasing smile.
“Dude, calm down,” Eijirou says. Seemingly reading his posture and making a correct guess of his intentions.
“Fuck you!”
“Really…” Izuku sighs, raising his eyes and shaking his head, “aren’t you too cranky to work in a flower shop?”
“Really… aren’t you too dumb to manage needles?” he mocks back.
The rest of the session is done between teasing remarks about Katsuki’s unexpected plant-enthood – Eijirou’s words – and Izuku’s disappointment at finding that Katsuki betrayed the soft-kind of guy stereotype he pegged him to be.
“The hairpin and the apron are cute. Too bad you’re always frowning,” Izuku says.
“I know, right? I tell him his face will get scrunched someday with all the frowning!” Eijirou adds.
By the time Eijirou’s first tattoo session is done with, Katsuki’s annoyance levels have risen above the usual since dealing with both Izuku and Eijirou at the same time is downright exhausting, not to mention unbearably annoying.
“Take care of our child, Kacchan!” Izuku says behind his back when they finally leave.
Katsuki, of course, replies by giving him the middle finger.
-
Eijirou’s tattoo is done after three sessions and the result is more amazing that Katsuki allows himself to admit aloud. The Snapdragon is twisted around a big hourglass slightly tilted to the right. The bottom of the flower begins off as tiny buds and ends up in fully blossomed bright, red buds.
“What do you think?” Eijirou asks when it’s finished. Izuku is smiling and also waiting for his input.
“It fits you,” he offers to Eijirou after a pause. Then he throws offhandedly at Izuku, “it’s not that bad.”
That’s a pretty lame praise, and yet Izuku grins brightly at him. Eijirou, though, makes up for his lack of enthusiasm when he looks at it in the mirror and starts to gush about it. Katsuki rolls his eyes in exasperation.
Katsuki is relieved that the sessions are finally over but he’s also mildly offended he wasn’t asked for his phone number after all the time he spent in the parlor. Especially because Eijirou and Izuku never stop talking about topics he had no idea of and seem to share way too many inside jokes.
But even if he’s somewhat annoyed by it, it’s not that he was going to give his number, mind you. It’s just a matter of principle. People don’t talk about private conversations in front of an unknowingly third party without being rude.
-
After Eijirou’s tattoo is done, there should be no more reason for Izuku to come to his shop anymore. Still, he keeps dropping by to draw more of his flowers from time to time.
“For future reference,” he explains.
Katsuki is not gullible enough to believe that. At least, not completely. But despite not knowing Izuku’s true intentions, he admits – inwardly because there is no way he’s going to say it aloud – that the sketchbook filled with more and more drawings of his flowers brings him great joy.
Izuku’s art – Katsuki is satisfied to find out – capture the beauty of them perfectly, and occasionally, one or two pages are forgotten on the front desk in what Katsuki interprets is a ‘Thank you for tolerating me’ or a ‘Sorry I kinda broke the vase of the orchids when you told me not to touch it beforehand’.
Regardless of the banter and any other teasing he’s subjected to whenever Izuku comes, he doesn’t have the energy to kick him out anymore. Not when Izuku looks genuinely interested in his shop.
To Katsuki’s amusement, that's not the only thing he looks interested in. He has caught Izuku starting at him on more than one occasion and almost in the same way he does with his flowers.
Katsuki vaguely wonders if his sketchbook is no longer filled just with plants.
It’s weird... not the staring, not even the suspicion of why Izuku doesn't let him take a peek of his sketchbook when he wasn't bothered by it before. No. It’s weird because even if Katsuki should find it annoying he doesn’t seem to mind.
-
“Where’s fucking Deku?” Katsuki asks when he finds an unknown guy at the front desk of the tattoo parlor.
The guy is reading a magazine and leaning back – dangerously so – into the chair, looking as if he’s the rightful owner of the place. Despite having yet to exchange words with him, both his posture and his appearance already speaks of how much Katsuki is going to dislike him. His dual-colored hair – red and white – is plain stupid and makes Katsuki cringe knowing that someone had to be paid for creating such a monstrosity.
“I don’t know no Dekus,” the guy says, not even bothering to raise his eyes to meet him.
“The— that guy!” Katsuki motions wildly with his left arm since his right is cradling the pot with the cactus. “The green idiot that runs this piggery!”
“Izuku?”
“Who the fuck else?”
The guy raises his eyes and blinks at him. Katsuki scrunches his nose in distaste. Of course the guy would also have mismatched eyes to contrast with his hair. They hold gazes for a moment before the guy deems that reading the magazine is far more important than providing good customer service.
Katsuki slams his hand on the desk. “Stop ignoring me you damn emo!”
The damn emo just sighs. “Izuku went out to buy some supplies… he’ll be back in an hour or two.”
“And who the fuck are you?”
The guy sighs again and finally puts the magazine down and sits straight in the chair.
“I’m Izuku’s friend. I finally got to escape my house from years of abuse from my father and now I can freely visit my mother at the hospital and pursue the dream of enrolling in Yuuei University to be a psychiatrist as opposed to my father’s wishes for me to be a lawyer. While on breaks Izuku lets me come and help with the parlor.”
Katsuki remains silent, then he opens his mouth. “I didn’t ask for your damn biography.”
“You seemed so protective of this place. I assumed a quick explanation was in order if I wanted to avoid you calling the police,” the guy says.
“Smartass,” Katsuki deadpans.
“Todoroki Shouto,” the guy corrects.
“I don’t care.”
“Shouldn’t you be less grouchy for a flower guy?”
“Why do people keep asking me that?!”
It’s supposed to be a rhetorical question, and yet Todoroki Shouto considers that he can’t go without adding, “Maybe because flower shop guys are supposed to be less…” he looks at him from head to toe, then back and flicks his hand. “… this.”
At that, Katsuki’s eye twitches.
“Here!” Katsuki places the pot on the desk before his patience yields under the intent of smashing it right against Shouto’s face. “Tell Deku this is his first test. He has to take care of it or else I’ll set his parlor on fire!”
“Is this Cactusi?” Shouto wonders, “Good to finally see it green and lively.”
“What?”
“Izuku talks about you,” Shouto explains, inadvertently making Katsuki’s heart flip. “A lot,” he adds for extra effect. “To be honest, you’re not what I imagined, but I guess the term dandelion guy is quite accurate.”
“Dande—does he call me that?!” Katsuki’s voice cracks and Shouto smiles softly and teasingly, as if he knows a secret he’s not supposed to divulge.
“Maybe.”
Katsuki remains frozen on the spot. Both embarrassment and annoyance settle in his chest in an awkward combination that ultimately escapes his mouth in the form of stuttering.
“It’s okay…” Shouto hurries to say, “Izuku likes flowers.”
Katsuki turns around and strides to the door when he can’t control the warm flush flooding his cheeks. Right before leaving, he turns around and yells, “Dandelions are a weed you fucking uncultured swine! Get your facts straight!”
-
Katsuki sneers when he finds Todoroki Shouto in the parlor the next time he comes to ask for the cactus.
“Oh, you’re here again,” Shouto greets.
“You got a problem with me being here, asshole?”
“If Izuku doesn’t then I don’t either,” Shouto replies, sending a quick glance to Izuku who, by the looks of it, seems to be immersed in a new tattoo design. Katsuki can easily tell by his posture; tongue sticking out, brows drawn together, nose scrunched in concentration.
“He looks so stupid…” Katsuki mocks to himself and turns around to find Shouto staring at him. “The fuck is your problem?”
“Nothing.” Shouto doesn’t look bothered that Katsuki was insulting his friend. In fact, he seems amused by it. “Do you come here often? What do you and Izuku talk about?”
Katsuki frowns, annoyed by the random question. “What’s with the shitty pick-up line? Do you want me to punch your stupid face? Also it’s none of your fucking business.”
“Oh, Kacchan! Hi!” Izuku greets when he notices him. Anyone would think they haven't seen each other in months by the way he’s greeting him; with a bright smile on his face and waving so enthusiastically that Katsuki fears his hand will fall off.
Katsuki tries to ignore the warmth in his chest.
“You’re too loud, Deku!”
“You’re the one who’s loud, Kacchan.”
Katsuki gets easily swept into a playful banter that lasts almost an hour. And it’s late that night, when he is on his bed that he thinks of Shouto’s question of ‘Do you come here often?’ and realizes that he does.
He recognizes with surprise that stepping in the tattoo parlor almost every day has become a habit that has crept so easily into his routine and one that has never been easier to follow. Katsuki wonders why Eijirou hasn't complained about his long absences yet.
As surprising as that discovery is, it doesn’t weigh enough to tilt the balance of their daily lives. That is, until the awareness of how ingrained Midoriya Izuku has become in his life gains strength on a Saturday afternoon when he’s arranging a bouquet of carnations. He finds a green one, contrasting loudly against the red bunch.
“Oh~ what’s the smile for?” Eijirou asks.
Only when the corners of his mouth are taken down by Eijirou’s question is that he realizes that he’s been admiring the flower for longer than he was aware of. Not because of the flower itself. No. It’s because Izuku’s eyes, hair, and his entire being are easily resembled in it.
It’s stupid. It should be stupid but it’s not.
Shouto’s words of ‘He talks about you’ keep circling his head as if they’re annoying mosquitoes. It proves to be quite difficult to get rid of them since every time he visits the tattoo parlor the one responsible of stirring them up is there, looking at him with calm yet expectant eyes. As if he’s waiting for Katsuki to do something.
Katsuki doesn’t get it. He just knows that there’s an unwanted seed buried in his chest; a green, freckled, stupidly annoying seed that was planted inadvertently through time and buried deep inside by the hands – words – of Todoroki Shouto.
‘Izuku likes flowers.’
Shouto said and Katsuki is not stupid enough to miss the implication.
‘Izuku likes you.’
It’s annoying. But the bothersome prickling sensation in his chest comes from his inability to deal with feelings rather than finding out that Izuku bears sentiments of that nature towards him. He’s not likeable material and yet, somehow, along the months, Midoriya Izuku found a reason to look at him in that way.
It shouldn’t mean anything.
But it does.
It does…
-
Katsuki is watering the flowers outside of his shop when he sees Shouto crossing the street. Even if he’s right next to the door, Shouto ignores him, walks past him and makes a dash for Eijirou inside.
The hose in Katsuki’s hand misses the planter box and drips directly to the ground as he follows Shouto with his eyes.
Eijirou walks up to meet Shouto and then they start to speak in hushed whispers. Katsuki’s stare, charged with enough incredulity and curiosity finally pulls them out of whatever it is that they’re discussing.
“Dude… the hose,” Eijirou calls, and Katsuki hurries to close the faucet.
“What the fuck—do you guys know each other?” he asks, coming into the shop.
Shouto shrugs his shoulders. “Izuku made a group chat.”
“A group chat,” Katsuki repeats. It’s not a question, but Eijirou takes it as a prompt to elaborate nonetheless.
“Midoriya, Todoroki and I.”
Katsuki tries to rationalize the heat in the pit of his stomach. Annoyance? Anger? The feeling of being left out? It could be all of them. He isn’t sure. The fact is… that they’re being rude. Midoriya Izuku is being awfully rude for not adding him to a stupid group chat, because even if Katsuki doesn’t have the interest of being a part of it, he deserves the courtesy of being asked if he wants to join.
Again. It’s a matter of principle.
“We can add you,” Shouto offers, reading into his silence.
“Why the fuck would I want to?”
Both Eijirou and Shouto look at each other, unconvinced and as if they’re holding a wordless conversation.
“Anyway,” Eijirou sighs, “that’s not the reason Todoroki came. We kind of need your help.”
“Go find someone else!”
“Izuku has been down lately, and we’ve tried everything to cheer him up, but it’s no use. We were wondering if you could help,” Shouto explains.
Katsuki doesn’t need Shouto to tell him so. He realized it on his own when Izuku stopped coming to his flower shop after two days; when his absence started to make more noise than Izuku himself ever did. The idle chatting, the rich laughter, and the playful ‘Kacchan’ were gone and it didn’t take long for him to know that something was up.
Regardless, Katsuki was – is – still adamant about setting foot in the parlor. Now that he knows about Izuku’s feelings and his own growing fondness toward the artist, he’s wary. He’s confused and oddly frustrated when he can’t think of anything else other than finding out how would it feel to kiss someone with a tongue ring.
But, despite his hesitation, the thought of Izuku’s smile, dimmed under whatever it is that’s weighing him down, leaves a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.
“What the hell is wrong with him?” he asks despite himself.
Shouto shifts his weight from one foot to another, clearly uncomfortable. “His dad.”
-
Katsuki’s concern is rapidly overcome by annoyance. He rushes to cross the street and slam the parlor’s door open. Izuku is at the desk, working on what must be a design for a tattoo. He has dark bags under his eyes, and the green, fluffy curls are set loose. Katsuki has no time to admire the sight as he would otherwise. Instead he strides angrily and slams his hand on the desk.
“I thought you said you were gonna fix it!”
Izuku’s bafflement lasts a moment before he huffs in annoyance and avoids his eyes.
“Shouto and Kirishima-kun told you, huh?”
Katsuki takes a moment to calm himself down. He doesn’t understand where this sudden burst of a nameless emotion came from. Is it worry? Anger at Izuku’s apparent negligence to deal with his problems? Or perhaps a combination of both?
He’s never been tuned to his feelings, let alone another person’s, but looking at Izuku; that soft, smiling entity wrapped in a rough exterior. That entity that has come into his life, quick as lightning and crashing everything down like a meteor. Katsuki feels the unfamiliar instinct to help, lift, and protect it.
“Look at me, Deku!”
Upon Izuku’s unwillingness, Katsuki opts to cradle his face with his hand and move closer, enough for their foreheads to touch. He hears Izuku’s breath hitch. He hears Izuku’s heartbeat. He hears his own.
“We met almost four months ago, and the first thing you told me was the story of your issues with your dad. The fuck are you waiting for to fix it?”
The grip in his hand is tightened, but he can tell that the reason Izuku grimaces is not because of the force behind it. Rather his words, hitting the right chord in Izuku are what’s responsible for those eyes dulling even more.
“It’s not that easy,” Izuku hisses, avoiding his eyes. His warm breath falls directly onto his lips, making them tingle. “We never had fights before, and I don’t know what to say! I don’t want him to…”
As Izuku trails off as Katsuki pulls back.
Izuku leans forward, not wanting to lose the contact, but he is stopped by Katsuki’s hand, still touching him and now cradling his cheek. Steadying him.
“I don’t know what happened,” he starts, and Izuku quickly opens his mouth to retort, but it’s beaten by Katsuki. “You don’t have to tell me. You talk as if it’s the end of the world and that only shows how important your bond with him is. If you really don’t want to lose it, then do something about it. Man the fuck up.”
No one says that Bakugou Katsuki is good at giving speeches. Although Izuku, while still dejected, looks a bit more alive than when he crossed that door.
“I… I’ll try…”
“Don’t try. Do it.”
Izuku sighs softly and looks straight ahead. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out of it. Then he grasps Katsuki’s hand softly, the one that’s still cradling his cheek, and squeezes it a bit.
Katsuki’s eyes follow the way Izuku bites his lower lip. He swallows heavily, suddenly self-conscious, and decides to break the silence before the temptation of doing something he is not ready for can overcome his rationality. His voice is gruff and grave as he chastises, “Also, stop worrying half-and-half emo and hair-for-brains. It’s a pain in the ass having them whine about you.”
The soft snort makes Katsuki relax his shoulders, if only slightly, before dragging his hand away. Slowly, deliberately tracing the expanse of Izuku’s freckled cheek and outlining the corner of his mouth.
“You’re not allowed to come back to my shop until you’ve fixed this,” Katsuki whispers, still close, and in a quality that carries a sense of intimacy. One that Izuku doesn’t miss, but he’s not given the time to address as the ultimatum takes his attention instead. He loses his smile, and Katsuki has to bite down a smirk.
It’s quite a sight, he has to admit. Izuku’s eyes are round and big, shinning with surprise. His cheeks are still lightly dusted in pink and he seems anxious. Perhaps it’s a little callous of him to use Izuku’s affection as leverage, but he would rather do so than look at those dulled eyes each and every time they meet. It’s not right. It’s unfitting. It’s not like Izuku.
And so, Katsuki walks up to the door and says over his shoulder, “When you grow a pair, bring our son back. I’ll be waiting.”
Katsuki leaves the store with a soft smirk as the yell of ‘Kacchan’ rings behind.
-
A whole week passes by, and Katsuki busies himself double – even triple – checking everything. He waters the flowers to the point they’re close to drowning, he fertilizes the plants, and he even busies himself with attending to some customers when that’s one of his least favorite things to do. Eijirou’s concern skyrockets, but after noticing him sending glances to the store across the street, he comes to understand the reason behind his behavior.
The flowers and plants have never been this colorless or lifeless. Even if Eijirou and some patrons throw comments saying that they have never been this beautiful before, Katsuki fails to see it.
There are moments when he thinks that perhaps telling Izuku that he wasn’t allowed to come wasn’t the best idea. Still, he waits for the moment Izuku crosses the door of his shop with that endearing smile of his and their son in hand.
He waits for the spring Izuku took away with him.
-
It’s on those days of yearning, when Katsuki dreams of green eyes and a smile he wants to tattoo on his lips, that he understands that he too, has fallen for Midoriya Izuku.
-
It happens after Eijirou decides to get another tattoo. This one is smaller and on his shoulder. It doesn’t take more than two hours to do.
The bell chimes to announce his return, and it’s followed by an unexpected yell.
“Kacchan!”
Katsuki snaps his neck so fast it pops loudly. There, in the entry, is Izuku.
In the face of having his now, fully admitted crush, in front of him he can’t help but snap back, voice cracking, “What?!”
Izuku comes with the cactus and a big smile that makes Katsuki’s stomach flip. Eijirou trails behind with a knowing look that Katsuki is too busy to mind.
“Kacchan! Look!” Izuku chirps in a tone wrapped around happiness and joy. The one Katsuki missed so much. The scold of ‘Stop yelling, I’m right here’ that Katsuki is ready to use dies in his throat when Izuku shoves the pot of the cactus right into his face. "Look! It bloomed!"
Katsuki carefully pushes the pot away from his face to look at it. Indeed, there’s a flower at the top of the cactus’ head. It looks flimsy and delicate, it’s pink and contrasts beautifully against the roughness of the thorns and the green around it.
“Isn’t it beautiful?”
Katsuki is unaware of his own smile, mirroring Izuku’s own when he takes the pot to admire it better.
“Well look at that… you’re not that bad, Deku.”
It’s meant to be a jab but Izuku doesn’t take it to heart, nor does he retaliate. Instead he places another pot – this one smaller and with a tiny cactus – on the counter.
Katsuki eyes it questioningly. “Is this from Cactus– I mean the other one?”
Izuku smiles softly but says nothing. He lowers his head and looks at his feet. Katsuki frowns, but waits patiently until Izuku raises his head and licks his lips. The motion doesn’t go unnoticed by Katsuki.
“I also wanted to thank you…” Izuku says in the softest voice. Katsuki’s hold on the pot tightens. “It took a while but yesterday… I finally gathered the courage to talk to my dad. He’s been trying to reach out to me but I always rejected his calls. So, I apologized for that.”
Katsuki knows there’s more so he waits.
“The reason I was mad at him was because he decided to go to America because a friend asked him to help him with a case— ah! My dad was a cop, but given how badly his health was he had to stop and I… ” Izuku cuts off. He sighs and gives him a sad smile that, if it weren’t for the pot, Katsuki would reach out to do something, anything to erase it. “I just wanted him to stay home with mom. His health is no joke. He’s too sick to travel, let alone work as a cop anymore. Even if he was called in as a consultant I still worry, y’know…”
The silence hangs between them and Katsuki sends a quick glance around. The redhead is nowhere to be seen and Katsuki feels even more lost about what to do.
“‘Do you know how bad you’ll break mom’s heart if something were to happen to you?’ I asked him, but he just said that sometimes bigger sacrifices should be made… I understand that but my mom… you see, my biological father abandoned us, so I was afraid my dad— step dad, would do the same.”
Izuku licks his lips nervously and continues, “He is my hero. He’s so brave and strong, and he loved being helpful, so I was afraid he liked being at his homeland and being back in action better than living a boring life here in Japan… so I said mean things to make him stay. Things that I regret.”
Katsuki drops the pot on the nearest table and pats Izuku’s head awkwardly.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Izuku adds, smiling softly and reading into his struggle. “Sorry I dropped all of that on you all of a sudden. I just wanted to thank you because I got to talk to my dad. We made peace with each other. So yeah... Thank you.”
Izuku takes his hand – the one that keeps petting his head – cradles it between his, and threads their fingers together. The soft smile Katsuki is given along with the eyes layered with a thin film of shine makes his heart skyrocket.
Izuku moves closer. Any misreading of what his intentions might be are erased right at the moment he trespasses the line Katsuki hasn’t allowed anyone past before.
Then Izuku waits. He bobs his Adam’s apple and Katsuki licks his lips in anticipation. They’re almost the same height, and Katsuki can’t help but notice that if he, or Izuku were to lean forward, the trajectory their lips should follow to meet is a straight path with no other roadblock than his own hesitation.
The moment stretches longer but Katsuki can’t move. The stupor he is under hinders his movements and ultimately causes Izuku to drop his shoulders when the wait becomes too unbearable.
Izuku takes his hand back deliberately slow and steps back.
Just like that, the moment has slipped through their fingers as easy as sand.
“I also came to give it to you,” Izuku says, eyes fixed on anything but him. “The cactus, I mean. It’s yours.”
Katsuki frowns, not understanding.
“Your dad’s—”
“Not that one,” Izuku shakes his head. “This one,” he says pointing at the one on the counter.
“You grew another from–”
“– our son?” Izuku smiles at the grimace he’s given. “You said it yourself.”
Katsuki is too embarrassed to make a comeback.
“I think I had it as a bitter reminder—a regret,” Izuku continues, this time, in a solemn voice. “But then you came to my store, and you took it with you. You nurtured it and made it lively again just when it was ready to die. You saved it… and now is strong enough to give life to another.”
Katsuki admires the cactus that was once part of Cactusi. It’s small and barely stands above the soil but looks sturdy and healthy. Its green is so vibrant and why is that now, every tone of that color makes him think in the person in front of him? How come his scale of beauty has taken Izuku’s entire being as a standard?
“It’s...”
“It’s yours… Kacchan,” Izuku says, overlapping his words.
The tone carries an emotion Katsuki can physically feel pulling at something within him. And even if he knows Izuku must be talking about the cactus, his heart is eager to translate it differently.
‘My heart is yours… Kacchan.’ Katsuki hears.
“I like cacti," Izuku confesses with his eyes boring into his. "They’re strong and, despite the spines, they’re very pretty when they bloom.”
Again, Katsuki can read the implication and the hidden meaning in those words but his tongue is too tied to reply properly.
“So yeah… I came to tell you about my father and…” Izuku takes a pause, a deep breath and opens his mouth with nothing coming from it. He shakes his head and turns around, ready to leave. “That’s it. That's all I wanted to say. I’ll see you around, Kacchan. I gotta go now.”
Katsuki holds his breath and doesn’t know who he is more angry at. At himself for not having words to say? At Izuku for disarming him so easily?
The door chimes and Katsuki is taken out of his stupor. He rushes to take after Izuku and wraps his hand around his arm.
“Wait I—I’m…”
“Kacchan?”
Katsuki has never been eloquent. He prefers actions over words, and so he finally acts. He cradles Izuku’s face between his hands with a gentleness so uncharacteristic of him that Izuku tenses up. As soon as he reads his intentions he grows pliable and Katsuki holds him steady for a moment before leaning in. Their breaths mingle and their noses kiss before their lips do. Katsuki closes his eyes and lets himself fall forward, where Izuku’s expectant, trembling lips are ready to catch his.
Katsuki kisses him, and his thunderous heartbeat grows louder when Izuku presses himself flush and winds his arms around his neck, keeping him in place.
Unnecessary, he thinks. He’s not going anywhere. The lips molding against his, filling the gaps and nibbling at them with a tenderness he’s finally tasting after seeing it contained inside Izuku’s eyes, are a good enough motive to grow roots on the spot.
He learns that kissing Izuku feels good. Perhaps too much, and he doesn't know if it's because of Izuku himself or his tongue ring. Either way, he realizes he loves it.
When they pull back, Izuku is smiling at him and Katsuki needs to look away for a moment before his heart bursts entirely out of his chest.
So, of course Izuku would choose that moment to blurt, “I like you, Kacchan.”
“I… you’re a dumbass,” he mutters, embarrassed.
Izuku giggles and tilts his head in that annoyingly adorable way of his, not heeding his words.
“What? Did you want to say it first?”
Katsuki can’t find the words to deny it.
“It’s okay Kacchan, I was just waiting for you to accept it…” Izuku confesses, linking their fingers, “but I already knew…”
Katsuki pulls his hand back and Izuku pouts.
“What?! How do you even—?! I never gave you a reason to believe that!”
Except he did, and Izuku’s patient yet condescending expression is good enough of a reason to believe that he wasn’t as inconspicuous as he thought.
Izuku smiles teasingly. “Well, I might or might not have imagined the way you always stare at me whenever I’m drawing”—Katsuki grimaces—“but that’s okay because I always stare at you when you’re watering your flowers… you look so happy and cute that I can’t help it.”
“You’re so damn embarrassing. Shut the fuck up.”
Katsuki shuts him up, and finds out that the best way to do it is by taking his words directly from his mouth.
The smile tattooed on his lips makes his heart flutter, but it’s the heartbeat, thumping as loudly as his own what makes him lose himself to the open arms of a love that has finally bloomed.