Katsuki had not loved camping as a child, not that it was his high-end designer parents' favorite pastime anyway. He'd been to once before as a teen during a school field trip and, surrounded by his incredibly annoying classmates, had not been partial to the experience. He does remember sneaking a spider into Deku's backpack, the weekend's definite highlight. Back then, Katsuki had still thrived on other people's perceptions of his potential and his ability. Nowadays, with his face covering billboards and articles and the evening news, camping - alone - brings along a lot more pleasure.
UA trained its students to survive in a series of extreme-case scenarios. Straying off a tourist-friendly trail in the outer reaches of the city proves nothing close to a challenge. Katsuki is familiar with this particular trail, or perhaps, it's more accurate to say he's familiar with his created version of it. Halfway into his trip, he's read more books under his tent's roof than he usually has time for during work-season combined. Katsuki is deeply committed to his job and has been even before he understood what being a hero truly was, but sometimes, even to him, it's just all too much.
He took the camping suggestion after going once with Kirishima. The duo comes together when their schedules line up, but mostly, Katsuki treks the long-stemmed grass on his own every couple of months. He's unbothered by the sweet smell of nitroglycerin impregnated in his blankets and tent from the constant sweating, and he's meticulous in the bug-repellent incense his friends gifted him ages back that he buys religiously now. He's not a fan of neither the heat nor the bugs, but inside the dimly lit tent, silence in the shape of forest sounds stretches all around him; Katsuki certainly thinks it's worth it.
He's nodding off a little with the last book, a recommendation Yaoyorozu sent to their class group chat. He doesn't keep in contact with her per se, but he knows she has good taste by experience. Practical, the type of book that makes one a better hero without ever becoming annoying enough to be called self-help. Deku had gushed about it as well, but Katsuki knows the nerd reads anything and everything regardless of its usefulness, so Rich Girl's validation is worth more.
It's about bureaucracy, which makes it plenty uninviting, but the tips make sense, and Katsuki will be applying most of them once he gets back to the office. Whatever can grant him more free time than he currently has will be a godsend. His agency isn't exactly thrilled when their most popular hero sets off to disappear off the face of the planet (read: media) for 4 days at a time, but they're also stingy enough to want to avoid the unnecessary property damages that happen when Katsuki doesn't decompress regularly. He's been a hero for a while now, which means that the amateur need for overworking is gone. Now only the adult search for stability remains. It's not that Katsuki is less passionate, just that he's finding that he can be passionate about more than one thing -but such a thing requires time.
He gives up for a moment, letting the book rest on his bare chest. He's in shorts and shirtless, but the heat is just right to make him want to stretch out and take a catnap. The sun will be going down soon, and if Katsuki's stomach doesn't protest too much, he might just give in to the slumber until tomorrow. This is what relaxation time is all about, after all, doing whatever you please whenever you please with little consequence. His mind is just muggy enough to slip into sleep without much effort, but he feels something's wrong.
It's a slow pinprick, noticing a mosquito bite: looking down and raising a hand in reflex to leave a gooey, bloody mess in exchange for a mild taste of victory. Katsuki opens his eyes fully, trying to determine what's setting him on edge. The forest is quiet, with no unnatural footsteps or rustling. Actually. Katsuki sits up fully, his palms twitching on reflex as he sets his tome to the side. That's precisely it. While his afternoon was accompanied by the chirping of crickets and the cries of cicadas, foretelling a rainy night, currently, there's the whistling of wind cutting through leaves, the soft rushing of the stream nearby, and nothing more. No place with life is that quiet.
Katsuki has been to this spot a handful of times and never ran into anyone or found evidence that the clearing - an hour off the path - has received any other occupants other than himself and the forest fauna, possibly ever. It's not hair-brained (ha!) to think that if someone is outside, it's hardly a coincidence. Katsuki strains his ears, but nothing out of the ordinary is discernible. The pro-hero prepares to burst out of the tent, fingers on the zipper. His training has him remembering where all the obstacles outside are. The stone marking the place, his bag, the campfire… all to be avoided if he needs to dodge in a hurry.
Adrenaline flows through his veins, addictive and familiar, only for his heart to stutter as he greets the person waiting outside. Katsuki bites down on his lip, but his temper explodes out of him anyway. Notably, the only time Katsuki's lost his temper while camping, of course, it'd be this little pest coming to bother. He knows the green-adorned back well, not that Katsuki is lowering his guard anytime soon. He spares a thought to his satellite phone; he's sure it's on and charged for anyone to recall him in case of a wide-scale emergency. He dismisses the idea, even if it wasn't working, sparing the number 1 hero to look for Katsuki camping 4 hours away would be the stupidest strategic move possible if they are short-handed enough to need him.
So, Katsuki takes a moment to glance at the green curls and muscled back. The forever unworn hoodie hanging, followed by a tight belt ending on his legs' black braces. Deku is, as always, hot as fuck in his costume; Katsuki's long come to terms with that. What he hasn't come to terms with is what the fuck is Deku doing in the middle of the forest. How did he even get here? (If it is even Deku, Katsuki reminds himself hastily.)
The nerd is not looking towards the tent but over the cliffside, appreciating the same thing Katsuki does every time he arrives. The vast expanses of virgin forest, maybe discovering just how many it means the word thousands when you see it as treetops instead of in paper. How blue the sky is when there's no skyscrapers or sea to compete with it, and just how strong the wind is when it has a place to run free. Some warmth lits up in his sternum without permission, but he doesn't fight it. He hasn't really shared this view with anyone, but it's not like Katsuki owns it or anything. (Maybe he just doesn't mind that it's Deku who sees it.)
His relationship with camping isn't the only thing that changed when going pro.
"How the fuck did you find me, shitty nerd?" Contrary to what he was expecting, Izuku does not startle. He looks beatific as he turns around to smile at Katsuki, his muzzle hanging around his neck. It's a smile Katsuki knows well, has been seeing for his entire life, which is why he picks up on something wrong. Izuku's eyes hold that glint Katsuki's learning to recognize as something just for himself, although he's hesitant about it. (It's too easy to confuse hope with the truth after all).
"Kacchan," he greets, like sunshine made man, "I'm sorry, your snoring was so cute, I couldn't wake you." The comment catches Katsuki off-guard, but he's too old to be so easily embarrassed. He hums instead because Deku hasn't answered his question. "I was looking for you," he motions with his hand to the forest, as if just because he wished to find Katsuki, he has.
"I thought you were on duty this weekend," Katsuki narrows his eyes because he and Deku's off-schedules are often incompatible to ridiculous degrees, annoyingly so.
"I.. was," he hesitates, "but I just needed to see you, for a moment." He walks closer, but Katsuki takes a step back, still unsure. Deku looks somewhat surprised now but doesn't approach carelessly.
"Deku, we are a day away from the city," Katsuki lies, and Izuku looks around in complete wonder.
"We are?" He scratches his head in a mixture of sheepishness and awe as if he himself is unsure how he traveled all this way. "I guess we are, huh?" Then, he turns to Katsuki. "I thought you'd say you'd only be a couple of hours away! Kacchan, solo hiking is dangerous." Well, Katsuki breathes out relieved, that definitely sounds like Deku, but then begs the question. What… perhaps how is more important, did he get here?
"We are, Deku," Katsuki tells him, coming closer to look down on him. Deku's no squirt nowadays, but thankfully, Katsuki has remained the taller out of the two of them, which brings him shameless joy. Izuku's angular face is clear, his freckles stark against his light skin. His green eyes look up to Katsuki, and he offers him a small smile. Katsuki will not be so smoothly side-tracked. "Deku… you have no idea where you are. Did you get hit by a fucking quirk?" Something in Izuku's eyes changes. Katsuki expects him to take a step back in remorse, but instead, he gets closer, his mouthguard brushing Katsuki's bare breastbone and discarding his gloves to touch Katsuki's face with scarred hands.
"Yeah," he mumbles, but he just stands there, marveled at Katsuki's blushing face. It's not that he hasn't put together that he and Izuku are in some type of dance around each other. Slow steps built and taken at every gala or conference, struggled over at celebratory beer outings or close friend's birthday parties. Stolen instances of could-be spread out like stars along the milky way, squeezed in between responsibility, ambition, and duty. It's not that he has not caught the lingering stares (see me) or the occasional late-night phone call (help me), charged in the promise and unspoken sentiment. Katsuki does know. He has noticed. He just didn't think that… those are Deku's lips pressing against his own.
They taste sweet, a thrilling victory that explodes from within him, electrifying him down to his bones. It's all the times Katsuki has ever put down a villain, every thank you he's ever received multiplied by the longing he's been keeping inside. It's melancholic and nostalgic, almost like a memory rather than a moment, but it's overwhelming in ways Katsuki would be hard-pressed to describe. He breathes in, surprised only for as long as it takes to settle hands on Deku's hips, because suddenly, apparently, he's allowed.
The glare of the sun lands on his face, and Katsuki's going to ignore it, but at his small wince, Deku takes a step back. Come back, screams something within him that Katsuki's quick to snuff out. What the heck. He looks down at Deku, red-faced and ravaged, with curls topping over his brow and a pink tongue licking his lips. He's crying. The elation swelling Katsuki's chest chokes, and he feels it like a sucker punch to the ribs. He mirrors Deku's previous move, cupping his round cheeks in his calloused hands. He imagines it might not be the most comfortable feeling, but consoling has never been his thing. This softness has never been Katsuki, but Izuku's jeweled eyes have prompted him to do better for a long time. Katsuki's first thought of the beginning of the rendezvous comes back.
"What's wrong?" Izuku buries his face in his chest, shaking as an answer, denying there's a reason for the somber mood of the edge of glory. Instinctually, Katsuki throws his arms around him. There's nothing soft in Deku's back, all firm muscle and power hiding underneath freckled skin. He wonders who's giving comfort to whom.
"I'm sorry, Kacchan, I'm sorry." His voice is soft, whispery as if the moment were crystal glass, and it'll shatter if he holds on too tightly. Every single one of Katsuki's questions is tar in his windpipe, some of them burn brightly enough to reach the roof of his mouth, but his tongue is a dead thing inside him and asks nothing, not with his intention.
"What are you talking about, nerd?" Is that his voice? God, Katsuki cannot recognize it, croaky and afraid in ways he has never allowed himself to be. In a world of hand-controlled explosions, little Katsuki first learned he had nothing to fear. Adult Katsuki knows better; sweet-smelling nitroglycerin doesn't solve every problem in the world. Izuku's hold on him makes his ribs creak, but Katsuki doesn't mind. If he could burn the feeling into his body, he would.
He's trying to understand why the beginning is tasting so much like the end. Nothing about this afternoon is making any sense.
"I'm sorry," Izuku cries again. He grabs his hoodie, dabbing at his face, and gives Katsuki a watery smile. This smile is different from the one he gave Katsuki before. It's not I'm hiding that I'm sad, but rather I'm going to be brave. It's the smile Izuku carries to work every day, where Katsuki knows he feels the weight of every endangered life waiting for him and his legendary quirk. Katsuki admired it as a pro-hero and despised it as someone who cares about the man beneath the mask. Katsuki's never been good at comfort, but he thinks he understands… at least a little and hopefully enough.
"It's okay," he tells him, absolving him of whatever crime he repents. Katsuki doesn't want to know what Izuku's sorry for, but he understands that it's important by the slowing of his heartbeat. This moment, confusing and beautiful and final, is maybe the most important moment of his life. Katsuki breathes in deeply, refusing to give up. Izuku sobs, face wet in Katsuki's chest, and the blonde man runs a hand through his hair. He thinks Izuku might complain, leaving sweet sweat through his unruly curls, but the man doesn't even acknowledge the gesture. "It's okay," Katsuki repeats, "Izuku." Izuku nods; he nods rapidly and holds on. Steps back and gives Katsuki his hero smiles, eyes brimming with tears and wrecking Katsuki's heart apart.
Katsuki looks at him, always a crybaby, and still too apologetic for his own good. An absolute contradiction of the smartest, strongest, dumbest, weakest person Katsuki has ever known. He's beautiful, breathtaking, and the knowledge in his eyes is heartbreaking. Katsuki sees him mouth the words, but for some reason, it's like he can't hear anything anymore. Not the rustling of the leaves despite the wind whipping around his face. Not the nearby stream or the rushing of time it carries within it. Not the cicadas even though the storm clouds creep in through the horizon, clear gray in the setting sun. Not Izuku's words even though he's standing half a feet away, finger's interlaced with Katsuki's own.
The message gets through anyway, maybe because Katsuki feels a little like Izuku's bewitching enough to just carve it right on his heart.
I love you, Katsuki.
Then, just as silently as he made his appearance, he's gone -taking whatever peace Katsuki hiked to earn with him.
His emergency phone doesn't ring, but there is no way Katsuki is staying in that mountain. Something's wrong with Deku; he's sure of it, even as the hour of the afternoon seems more like an apparition than an actual encounter. Hiking at night is dangerous and foolish, and Katsuki talks himself into waiting until dawn. It's the smart, safe, reasonable thing to do.
He doesn't. More accurately, he can't.
He's at the entrance of the trail long before midnight. Even as he's slowed down by poor visibility and ice-cold rain. He's shivering all over, joints stiff with pain but agonizing him fears haunts every step and slip down the treacherous terrain. Getting into his car is both blessing and curse. He stuffs the camping equipment hastily in the back, uncaring of its state, and turns on the heat as an afterthought after failing to open the glove box three times in a row. He turns on his cellphone. Katsuki's generally annoyed by the time it takes the device to power up, but today -like in any emergency- it feels slower than ever. He takes off his jacket and shoes in the meantime, unconcerned by how he's getting the shotgun seat wholly drenched. The rain is pelting down onto the car, a dramatic beat down without rhyme or reason no matter how steady it is.
The jingle of his phone activates and then explodes. Katsuki's, plenty of missed calls and texts, more than he's ever gotten at the same time and enough to validate his hasty, irresponsible decision of trekking his ways down the mountain path blind and wet. It's a miracle he didn't kill himself, for fucks sake. At the top of his messages, his mom's characteristic all caps is there to greet him.
COME STRAIGHT HOME WHEN YOU SEE THIS.
THAT'S AN ORDER KATSUKI.
DO NOT LOOK AT THE NEWS.
So, naturally, with his heart in his throat and shaking hands, Katsuki opens his news app, doesn't even bother with any of the dozens of unopened messages he has left. He knows the title before he sees it; it's on every front page. He cracks his phone screen against the window in a fit of rage.
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.
- Emily Dickinson
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Hello, this came to me outta nowhere on this rainy sunday afternoon, it's left me really raw for some reason. Thank you for reading!
Edit: it now has a completed sequel: All We Need of Hell.
