Roses are Falling - Orville Peck
Hope to Die - Orville Peck
—
"This is only five instruments. Don't tell me you counted the harmonica," Katsuki says, surveying the instruments in the corner of his "music" room. His house is surprisingly large for a college rental house—especially for just him. What Katsuki assumed was his living room is actually just a room entirely for all his instruments and wires and musical doodads.
Deku rolls his eyes, but he's still smiling. He hasn't stopped smiling since he opened his front door and allowed him inside.
Katsuki feels utterly insane. It's almost as if he blacked out, and doesn't remember the walk to Deku's house, and he just came to while sitting on his couch. Katsuki's not quite sure how or why he ended up on Deku's doorstep with a gift in his hand, but he can't say he regrets it. Especially when he smiles.
"I do count the harmonica. So, seven."
"Then why five little guitar thingies?"
"Because cellos are expensive and gigantic—and I'm not all that proficient. My ex was the cellist. I didn't really play it until we broke up."
Katsuki arches a brow at the mention of an ex. He remembers Deku's off-handed comment about a pretty musician at the coffee shop. He hates the mild blip of jealousy he feels.
"Okay, so what's the fancy ukulele called?" Katsuki asks, pointing to the odd string instrument he recognizes from one of Deku's Winstagram posts. It's mounted on the wall by a series of pegs.
Deku barks a laugh that turns into a long winded fit of giggles. Katsuki wants to be annoyed by it, but he grudgingly admits that it's really cute. Deku pushes himself up from his near-prone position on the couch. He wiggles around, trying to reach for the instrument without moving too much before giving up and hoisting himself up on his knees. Katsuki watches like the thirsty little shit he is, memorizing the lines of his torso, the curve of his thick thighs, the way his socked feet curl absently. Thankfully, Deku is oblivious to his blatant staring. He manages to pluck the fancy ukulele off its wall mount and it finds a home in his lap as he gets comfortable on the couch once again, taking up more than his fair share of cushions space. His feet get dangerously close to Katsuki's thigh, but stop short of touching him. He strums a few chords, his fingers picking out an absent tune.
"It's a mandolin. Though I did go through a ukulele phase in high school."
The random plinking sounds of plucking strings melt into something else, something more uniform, and Katsuki recognizes it as the chord progression of the song that's softly lilting from the sound bar on the other side of the room.
Back on the run, back to the blue
Winning is fun, losing is, too
Roses are fallin', rosses from fallin' for you
"Who is this?" Katsuki asks it grudgingly. He hates showing interest, but he likes the song, even if it sounds a little too country for his usual tastes. And… maybe showing interest in the things Deku cares about isn't the worst thing in the world.
The ache inside the hate
I found a way to sit and wait
And now i can't, your voice, your face
Without a trace, I'll wait for you
Roses are fallin' for you, you
Under your skin, over the moon
Don't let me in, i don't know what I'd do
Roses are fallin', roses from fallin' for you
"Orville Peck. He's pretty cool, right? He's like a mysterious, punk rock cowboy with an old crooner's voice. Classic country meets indie rock, or something like that."
The excitement in his voice is unmistakable, and Katsuki fights the urge to smile and get lost in his bright eyes. Deku talks about music the way he talks about biological processes—in a serious, studied way that betrays utter fascination. Even if he doesn't care for music the way he does, Katsuki can respect that kind of borderline obsession. He wants Deku to keep rambling. He wants to be blinded from the heat of his smile and the shine in his eyes. Katsuki already feels like he's on fire.
You know darling, you bring out the worst in me
Sometimes, when I'm around you, i feel like pure evil
I guess they say nobody's perfect
But they've never met a devil like you
"How's he mysterious?"
Deku makes a noise in the back of his throat, something between a hum and an a-ha! He gingerly places the mandolin against the wall, and pulls out his phone. He fiddled around for a short time, looking determined. The tip of his tongue pokes out between his lips, and Katsuki feels the urge to fly across the couch and catch it between his teeth. He flushes at the thought.
Oh, roses are fallin' for you
Roses are fallin' for you
Roses are fallin' for you
Deku looks up and lightly tosses his phone across the couch. Katsuki's thankful for his superb reflexes, and the fact that he didn't fumble with it too much. Deku stares at him for a second, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.
"Is it too hot in here for you? I can turn the heat down."
"Hah? M'fine," he barks, averting his eyes from Deku, hopefully hiding his flushed face in his shoulder.
"You're all red."
"That's just my face! Hurry up and tell me about this dumb cowboy."
Deku laughs, just a little, and Katsuki wants to melt into the floorboards. The song changes, but it's the same guy. The same crooning voice and sweeping melodies; songs about youth and love and life. He looks at the art for the album they're listening to—a black fringe mask against a stark red backdrop.
Gone was the way we were
Just like the days we'd burn
Everything 'round us would burn
Take me back to the time
I was yours and you were mine
Take me back, the words I'd say
I had to whisper
Because you liked it that way
"That's him. He covers his face all the time, and he doesn't say much about himself. I think that's cool."
"He looks dumb."
"But mysterious. You have to admit it's a bold look."
I'm still undone, not quite young
But I, I still try
Cross my heart, now I hope to die
Katsuki snorts, somehow good-naturedly. The phone in his hand gives a soft ping, and a text banner catches his eye.
Merry Christmas Izuku.
Katsuki awkwardly passes the phone back to its owner, feeling guilty for reading it.
"Your dad texted you."
Deku bites his lip, checks the text, and unceremoniously locks it without replying. He tosses the phone away and it gets lost somewhere between them. The song goes on, swelling into a heartfelt crescendo as Katsuki surveys the room. There are no Christmas decorations to be found, and it strikes him as odd. He would've pegged Deku for a person that celebrates everything with gusto. The lack of cheer doesn't fit with the kind, excitable person he knows him to be. He takes a breath, and then he takes the plunge.
"Deku," he says, uncharacteristically soft. "Why didn't you go home for break?"
Deku purses his lips, like he wants to keep his secrets from Katsuki, but there's a little flicker of something else in his eyes. Maybe that's what trust looks like because Deku speaks.
"My dad and I haven't really celebrated holidays since my mom and Eri died. It just doesn't feel right, and my dad and I never do well spending time with each other. It's easier to stay here."
He says it so plainly, as if he's reciting a script. As if he's so resigned to the way things are. That makes Katsuki hurt, his heart clenching in empathy.
"I'm sorry. How long ago?"
"I was fifteen. It—it wasn't really anyone's fault. Icy conditions and all that. A car slid on the highway and hit them, and their car went right over the divider. They were on their way to pick me up from vocal lessons."
Deku's eyes are shiny, but his voice holds strong. There's no wobble, no hitching breath. It's a wonder he's so composed. Katsuki, with little thought, puts a hand on Deku's ankle because it's the closest part of him. His skin is soft and warm under his palm, and it sends a thrill up his spine. There's a long, heavy silence, and they fill up by just staring at each other. Katsuki feels like he's going to combust, but then Deku smiles at him. Soft, warm Deku and his pretty, deep eyes.
Katsuki knows he's a goner.
