Day 6 - Virtue
He didn't think he would be this calm. Hell, no one thought Bakugou Katsuki would be able to sit still on a given day, much less his wedding day.
Yet here he is, suit jacket buttoned and single rose tucked into a breast pocket, perfectly at ease. His mother had been to see him, dragging his dad in her wake. She'd tried to fix his perpetually messy hair to no avail; even with her quirk it was no use. His dad shook his hand, gripping his forearm tightly. His mom grabbed his chin and threatened him to take care of her favorite child: Ochako.
Before his calm could be broken by the provocation, Mizuki changes gears, hand gently patting his cheek and a soft look on her face. She's beautiful, she whispers. I'm so proud of you, she confides. And then he's alone again, nothing but time between himself and his wife.
His groomsmen are running around and escorting guests to their seats. Eijirou is directing everything with a laugh and smile. A check of his watch tells Katsuki it's nearly time for him to take his place. When he gets to the hall, Tsuyu rounds the corner, dressed in the purple maid of honor dress Ochako had shown him in a bridal magazine months ago. She glances around shiftily before waving him over.
"What is it?"
The Frog quirk user just smiles enigmatically and tells him to wait there. When he leans against the wall, she is gone. He sighs and looks at his watch again. Counting the seconds is maybe not the best way to practice patience, but Katsuki thinks the lack of anxiety is a better indicator of that, after enduring a two and a half year engagement. Heels click on the ground and he assumes its Tsuyu again, pushing off the wall.
"Katsuki?"
Suddenly, he is very glad he did not turn the corner.
"Yeah… Ochako."
A small laugh escapes her and he leans back against the wall again, grinning.
"Not too long now, huh?"
He hums in agreement. He stuffs his hand in his pocket to stop himself from reading out the minutes.
"Um, Katsuki?"
"Yeah?"
There's a lull and he can hear the crinkling of tulle brushing against the wall. His peripheral vision catches a glint of silver. Ochako's hand reaches out from around the corner and his automatically comes out of his pockets to hold it. Four petal soft pads press into his hand, fingers squeezing, as Eijirou comes from the other end of the hall, Tsuyu and Ochako's father in tow. The three smile at the couple before Eijirou speaks. Katsuki squeezes Ochako's hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.
"It's time."
He'd always heard patience was a virtue, but he'd never known a time where he had put it into more practice than when the music changed to 'Simple Gifts' as he stood before the official. Behind him, he could hear everyone standing to watch Ochako walk in, but he waited, head bowed. His mind ran the flickering memory reel in time to the beat: Ochako's meteor shower, rain boots and red umbrellas, late nights working on jet packs and homework and on patrol, fireworks crackling through the summer air, buying their first furniture together, hollowing out a stun grenade for the ring tucked in his wallet, the many stargazing trips…
All that time and he'd only gotten stronger; they'd only gotten stronger. As heroes, as partners, Katsuki learned patience and compassion through long years with Ochako. When he turns, she is there, radiant and with rosy cheeks, the tulle fluffed out and floating. His heart swells as her father places her small but powerful hands in his. As he holds her hands and they speak their vows, he makes a silent promise: to be patient for their life together, to not rush forward to the end, because he wants their years to remain long and never end.
