Izuku leaves the restaurant feeling a bit like he's been kicked in the stomach. Enzo looked apologetic when he broke things off, and he said it in a nice enough way, but still, he feels like the rug has been pulled out from under him. He simply said he didn't care for baggage, so a kid and an ex? That's at least two suitcases to drag along behind him. He doesn't particularly like or want kids. He's young and he likes to travel and his career is his sole focus—dating someone with a kid is just a deal breaker for him. Izuku can't fault him for that. Izuku can't seem to fault anyone for anything these days and it makes him want to scream.
Instead of screaming, he smiles and nods. This isn't the end of the world. He understands. Enzo isn't someone to cry over. He's beautiful, and it might've been nice to see where things went between them, but they're clearly fundamentally incompatible. No use crying over it. All he can do now is put on a brave face and follow behind Kacchan. Again. The resentment he feels burns in his gut, and it's multiplied tenfold by the guilt he feels for harboring that resentment in the first place. Who is he to resent Kacchan after what he's done? Crashing a date is nothing in comparison.
—
"So, your date…" he says, not really sure where to start. They've only just breached the threshold of his apartment, and Hisami has already disappeared to wrangle Cheeto out from under Katsuki's bed. Deku was completely silent when he left the restaurant and all the way through their dessert excursion, unless Hisami directly spoke to him.
"Probably my last one. Young, hot guys don't love the idea of dating someone with a kid."
"Oh. Well, that's his loss. Hisami is the shit."
For a moment, Deku just stares at him, his mouth pinched in the closest thing he's ever seen to a grimace. His eyebrows pull together and his eyes narrow just so before snapping back to an impassive blankness.
"He had to find out sooner or later."
He averts his gaze, and Katsuki is left wondering what he said to annoy him—and why Deku won't just have it out with him. They need to hash their shit out.
"Deku," he says, but he doesn't know what to say next. Maybe it's a good thing Deku puts up a hand in the universal stop gesture.
"Let's just get Hisami to bed, and then I'll leave."
"Let's get him to bed, and talk."
Deku doesn't say anything, but his mouth pinches again, and he can tell his eyes are shiny with welling moisture. He's never been good with tears, which is to say he's never been good with Deku. He cries about everything, for just about every emotional response. Katsuki has never been good at deciphering the difference between happy, devastated, panicked, or frustrated crying. So, Katsuki tries to go the extra mile, if only to stave off tears.
"Please, Deku," he says. He can't remember the last time he said please, but there it is. He feels an urge to suck that word back down his throat and clamp his mouth shut. Deku stares at him for a long moment, eyes guarded. He looks away when Hisami and Cheeto dart through the room.
"Okay," he whispers, voice cracking, before he follows after Hisami.
—
Deku can't seem to relax. He tries to be subtle, but Katsuki notices the way his eyes nervously trail all over his apartment, examining everything like he's out of place among his possessions. Katsuki remembers feeling the same way in Deku's apartment, and he can't believe it was only a few months ago that he waltzed back into his life.
Every now and then he'll start to pace around before catching himself. He finds a load of clean laundry Katsuki hadn't gotten around to, and starts folding them. He doesn't dare touch the clothes that are clearly Katsuki's, but he folds Hisami's shirts and pants perfectly, almost obsessively, creasing and folding until they lay perfectly, symmetrically flat.
Katsuki watches him do it for far longer than necessary. It's so oddly domestic that it brings all of Katsuki's dreams to the forefront of his mind. He imagines what it might be like to cohabitate with Deku, to share responsibilities like this. It's baffling that Katsuki feels close to Deku, despite the fact that they hardly talk, and they haven't known each other in a very long time.
He's starting to realize that that closeness he feels is a product of wanting to be close. Deku didn't deserve the way Katsuki treated him when they were younger, and if he could, he'd take it back. He wants to be on good terms again—to repair the decades wide rift between them. He wants Deku to trust him because—despite all the ways they've wronged each other—Katsuki actually trusts Deku. He knows he's a good person with only the best intentions.
He doesn't understand where Deku's been, and why he's been so keen to avoid him, and that doesn't sit right with Katsuki. His month long silence left a vacuum that Katsuki is desperate to fill, but he's having trouble deciding if he wants all these things because it would be better for Hisami, or because Katsuki himself misses Deku.
"You've been avoiding me. Why?"
He blurts it out so suddenly that Deku jolts in surprise. His big, sad eyes connect with Katsuki's for just a moment before he refocused on folding Hisami's pajama pants. He's silent for a while, and it makes Katsuki itch.
"I'm trying to make this easier on everyone," he mumbles, eyes glued to a Frostfire long sleeve.
"By falling off the face of the earth?"
"By giving you space. By not cluttering up your life with my problems… and feelings."
Feelings, he thinks. He's not sure if he's imagining the connotation behind the word. The way he says it makes it feel weighty and serious—he's not referring to his penchant for tears. It's something deeper. That scares Katsuki, but it's not like Deku is the only person being antagonized by feelings. Katsuki just doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve.
Maybe he needs to.
Maybe he needs to stop waiting for Deku to yell at him. That's the way Katsuki likes to solve his problems, but he can't expect Deku to do that. He doesn't want to get to a point where Deku has bottled up so much shit that he explodes. He doesn't want things to get ugly again. He sighs.
"I didn't ask for space, Deku. You got it into your head that I don't want to be around you, and that's not the case."
"Your obligation is to Hisami. You don't have to… tolerate me," he says, and his voice is so brittle. He's moved on to folding Katsuki's clothes now, like he's so stuck in his head he hasn't even realized the shirts have quadrupled in size. He doesn't fold them the same way Katsuki does, but instead of snapping at him about it, he maneuvers to the floor, and begins to fold the clothes with him. They work in silence for a few minutes, the basket and all their fucked up feelings between them. He wants Deku to break the silence, but after what feels like an eternity, he gives up that hope.
"Do you realize we haven't fought in months? You realize that I've been making an effort to spend time with you?" His voice is soft. Katsuki's not a soft person, but he has a small reserve of soft and sweet and kind, and he's starting to realize he only doles out that softness to certain people—all named Midoriya.
"You shouldn't have to make an effort for me."
"I know I don't have to do anything. I don't do shit I don't want to do," he snaps, and immediately wishes that reserve of kindness was slightly bigger.
"I don't know what to tell you, Kacchan." Still guarded. Still holding back for some reason. And Katsuki is pissed about it. It's unfair to keep him out.
"Tell me you're going to stop avoiding me. We're a fucking team, Deku. You can't leave me hanging like this."
Deku's face shrivels up like a dehydrated apple for a single second before he gets himself under control.
"This is why I've been avoiding you," he blurts.
"I don't get it."
"This." He gestures wildly, accusingly at Katsuki. "You're being… nice. It's confusing and it hurts and I'm cracking under the pressure of trying not to fuck this peace up."
"That's…"
"Selfish and shitty, I know, but I've got to do what's right for me, too. I fucked everything up, but I don't know that I deserve to be this miserable all the time."
"Of course, you don't deserve to be miserable. Is being around me really so horrible for you?"
"No. Yes. A bit…" he trails off, and fixes Katsuki with a burning stare, and Katsuki knows the truth is finally about to come out. "The guilt is eating me alive, Kacchan."
He whispers it, broken and ashamed. It hangs in the air between them and Katsuki isn't sure what to say. He's never considered Deku to be a dishonest person. He's too bad of a liar to get away with that, but he's withholding. Deku bends over backwards to avoid the truth, and that's almost worse than being a liar because he's only fooling himself.
"I thought we were doing well. I thought we were getting to know each other again. Why is that so hard for you?"
"You're going to get mad."
Katsuki rolls his eyes so viciously he half expects them to pop out of their sockets and fly across the room.
"Give me a little credit, Deku. I haven't freaked out on you yet," he barks, then, when his legendary blow-up pops unbidden into his mind, he amends his statement. "Well, not recently."
"It's like… I'm always waiting for you to turn on me again—because, of course, I'm going to fuck something up. I always do. And… if you're nice, and then you hate me again…. I'd rather have nothing than have you hate me."
Katsuki realizes the root of their issues, once again, comes back to decisions he made when he was a child, and it seems like no amount of outward kindness now can mitigate that age old hurt. They need to move past this, but Katsuki doesn't know where to start, or how to do it, or if it will even help.
"We've got a lot of baggage. I just… don't know if I'm ready to have that conversation."
"We don't have to have any conversations," Deku says, vehement and avoidant again.
"Is that really what you want? Do you think that's going to be good for Hisami in the long run?"
"I don't know."
"I'm not going to beg you to talk to me, but I will say that I want you to. You've been supportive of me and bending over backwards to make this easy on me, and I haven't been able to do the same," he says. "I can't support you if you won't let me. You have to talk to me."
"I don't know how."
"You're doing it right now."
"And I'm sweating like a piglet in a slaughterhouse."
Katsuki smiles, but he turns his head to avoid letting Deku see it.
"It's a start."
"Hisami really wants to spend more time with both of us?"
"Yeah. He asks about you every night he's here."
"I didn't know." Deku's eyes are so expressive he can literally see his heart breaking in them. Hisami is his Achilles heel. He should've led with that, and saved them this long-winded, painful conversation. Still, he feels like they've come out better than before, even if all this emotional maturity has left him exhausted and moody and maybe a bit confused.
"Answer your phone," he says, poking a finger in Deku's chest the same way Hisami does when he means business. He ignores the way that small bit of contact sends a jolt of electricity up his spine. "And I'll keep you in the loop. Come for dinners and bedtime once a week, and I'll do the same when it's your turn."
Deku nods, but he looks miserable.
"And if you need a break, talk to me. This has to work for both of us."
Deku stares at him for a while, a hand unconsciously stuck to his chest, where Katsuki touched him. It makes him feel uncomfortable and hot, that look in his eye. He swallows and looks away, desperate to get back on track.
"I swear to god, Deku, that kid of ours is going to have the best fucking Christmas of his life. With both his dads. Got it?"
Deku's smile is small, but it's been a while since he's seen a Deku smile, so he'll take what he can get. That hot feeling comes back again.
"Got it, Kacchan."
