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From the balcony, the city is a sight to behold. It’s illuminated by the sun, which is finishing its shift for the day, spewing feisty oranges, calming pinks and gentle purples out into the expanse of sky. The noise of the day is dying out as the afternoon rush hour comes to an end, and the only distinguishable sound is the soft music playing inside, just past the glass door.
Eijirou’s hair is damp, hanging limply around his shoulders and face, and he’s wearing a black t-shirt that was not bought with him in mind, paired with a simple pair of sweatpants. He’s leaning on the edge of the balcony, his arms resting on the railing at the elbow, hands dangling idly off the edge. The ring on his left hand glints elegantly in the evening sunlight and God, he thinks, what did I do to get so lucky?
Quite frankly, he could stand here all evening, letting the breeze flow through his hair, watching the sun settle itself comfortably on the horizon. Despite its allure, his attention is divided when there’s a pair of calloused hands on his elbows, which move to his hair, pull it back gently and Katsuki’s chin is on his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.
They stand together, on top of the world, as the day dies out and surrenders to the night, and it’s perfect. There’s nowhere they can’t be, nothing that’ll take this from them. Because after every fight, every day defending the city from skirmishes or the next self-proclaimed ‘Number One Villain’, there’ll always be each other to come back to.
Katsuki is here. And it will always be enough. They’d made a promise, and the both of them would uphold it as long as they were to live. It would never be too hard to find each other; not when every night feels like an infinity, not when everything they’ve been through hasn’t ever managed to tear them apart.
Eijirou’s neck is warm, and it tickles pleasantly every time Katsuki exhales. This would be routine if their work wasn’t so unpredictable; harnessing hero work is like chaining a dragon to a tent peg. But life would be dull without it, and Eijirou can’t imagine a life of routine, not after everything they’ve been through.
Of course, some things remain constant, like how Katsuki is the only one allowed command in the kitchen, and how Eijirou feeds the cat in the morning, because he is always awake first, and how they fall asleep on the sofa on Sundays because the hero news roundup is on at ten - however much Katsuki bristles at the lack of his own name in the number one spot, Eijirou loves the way his face brightens when either one of them appear on the screen. (He’ll never miss out on a chance to make Katsuki cringe when he tells him that he’ll “always be my number one, Kats,”).
A shiver almost courses up his spine when Katsuki lets go of his arms and moves to stand beside him to bask in the dying daylight. The orange glow on his face maps out the multitude of scars he’s gained over the years, but he looks healthy. There aren’t bags under his eyes - not even a slight smudge of purple, and his skin is clear as always. Katsuki’s beautiful, Eijirou knows that - he always has - but nothing seems to be able to compare to his smile that’s a burst of tranquility in a raging ocean.
“Good day?” Eijirou asks finally.
“Yeah,” Katsuki says, the slight satisfied smile on his face translating into a grin of malicious mirth. “I destroyed some fuckers today. They should know better than to pick a fight with me.”
“They should,” Eijirou chuckles, resting his chin on his hand. “I guess some people never learn,” Katsuki looks down to the pavement far below with a slight snort of laughter.
“Too fucking right,” he shakes his head. “I’ll never miss the look of fucking fear on their faces,”
“Okay,” Eijirou laughs, “and that’s the only reason you’re a hero. It’s not to, you know, save people and be a goddamn amazing hero to the city, then?”
“Shut up, Mr. Ten-Time Favourite Hero ,” Katsuki sneers, but his smile doesn’t leave his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah,” Eijirou waves a hand, despite the fact that he’s glowing with pride, “but remember who my- ,”
“I’d kill you if I wasn’t married to you,” Katsuki cuts him off, because he knows what Eijirou’s going to say, and he likes hearing it so much that he can’t even pretend to be angry.
“All right, all right. I love you too,” Eijirou says calmly, watching as the light on Katsuki’s face moves when he turns to face him, red meeting red. He means it, though. With every ounce of his existence, he means it. “How about dinner?”
“I’m fucking starving.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“ Fuck yes.”