The night seems to be winding down as Katsuki locks up the bookstore. The night is a bit chilly as katsuki watches a couple stop at a corner to kiss and smile at one another.
Yeah, people find happiness. They find 'the one', I believe in that. I try to stay open, but I was in love once. He broke my heart, Eijiro. The last one, he really did a number on me.
Katsuki starts on his journey home, lost in his thoughts as he passes the typical passerbyers, couples, singles, a pack of teenage boys, a young woman texting, an angsty teen with headphones in.
In many ways our falling out was my fault, I haven't always been this good at controlling my anger towards people. I really should've seen the signs, they were blatant. But we never do see the signs when we're in love. It's true what they say, when you see everything through rose colored glasses all the red flags just look like flags.
Katsuki makes his way to his apartment building, the cold grey brick lifeless and unwelcoming in the way that inanimate walls usually are. The muffled sound of a couple arguing can be heard even from outside.
Katsuki looks up and see the couple though a window on the second floor.
Inko and Hisashi. Inko is a nurse and a single parent. You think she knew Hisashi was an alcoholic shit stain when she fell in love? No. She thought he was a prince on a goddamn horse.
Katsuki makes his way up the stairs to his apartment and spots Kota. Kota is skinny, and full of sarcastic charm, Hes reading an old copy of The Three Musketeers.
And now, her life isn't the only one she's fucked up.
"Hey Kota," Katsuki said, attempting to not be gruff for once in his life.
"Sup, Katsuki," Kota responds in a bored tone.
More yelling can be heard from Inko and Hisashi's apartment, Kota's apartment.
Something shatters behind the closed door, and it's clear why Kota decided the stairway was safer than inside.
"Everything good in there kid?" Katsuki asks, a clear offer of assistance if Kota wants it.
"Yeah, Mom and Hisashi are just talking," he says dryly, puting air quotes around 'talking'.
"Talking, huh?" Katsuki accepts Kotas sarcasm in stride and looks at the novel in Kota's hands.
"You're almost done with that fucking book? You only started three days ago kid." Katsuki says, not bothering to censor his language with the kid.
"Reads quick, with all the sword fights it doesn't ever get boring."
"Let me know when you get done, I'll toss you another one."
Katsuki opens the door to his apartment, about to go inside, but takes a look back at Kota.
Kid probably hasn't eaten yet. Fuck. I hate being fucking nice.
"You hungry? I got this meatball wedge, but then I remembered I have leftover Thai and now I'm not in the mood for Italian any more."
"Nah, my Mom will probably make me something later," Kota says, obviously hungry but denying the offer to be polite.
"Shame," Katsuki says casually, "Meatball wedges don't keep, this shits going in the trash."
"You sure, Katsuki?"
"All for one and One for all, right?" Katsuki hands over the sand which, smiling as gently as he thinks he's capable.
Kota snatches the bag, digging in before Katsuki even turns into his apartment.
Katsuki's apartment is bland, almost spartan in appearance if not for the clutter of books (though if one looked closely they would see they were meticulously organized by both content and author) and awards he won as a teenager on display.
Katsuki enters the kitchen and opens the fridge to look at its merger contents. There is no Thai food.
The thing you learn, Eijiro, from Inko and Hisashi here, is that love isn't just tricky, it's a fucking trick. A guy needs to protect himself. I have to be sure that you're safe. Your name was a fucking glorious place to start.
When Katsuki has finished some peanut butter and saltines out of the sleeve, he sits in front of his laptop, staring at the search box on the screen.
Katsuki types in Eijiro Kirishima.
There's not a lot of Eijiro Kirishima's out there.
The results that come up are mostly social media: Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, etc. Katsuki begins to search through the accounts fining they are mostly his Eijiro's.
There you are. Every account set to public. You want to be seen. Heard. Known. And who am I to deny you?
The photos and post that Katsuki finds paint a picture of Eijiro, from his childhood to the man he is today.
Born and raised, Nantucket Island. A brother and a sister, whose names aren't mentioned. Not close then. Dad died when you were in high school. Heart attack according to the local papers. Your siblings stayed, but you escaped.
Katsuki scrolls through photos of Eijiro going to college, drinking with friends, concerts in meadows, beach days with other men.
You left to study at the University of Pittsburgh, where you majored in Physical Therapy and minored in Literature and douchebags.
Katsuki looks through more photos of Eijiro in the city, lifting at the gym, reading.
Then on to NYC to conquer a masters at New York University, and make your mark. You still write. Barely. Too busy living out moments you won't even fucking remember 5 years from now. I know this because you post about this life. All. The. Fucking. Time.
Katsuki scrolls through Eijiro's Twitter, noting a tweet that says "We are t-minus-ten minutes to karaoke Katy Perry. This is your first and final warning humans with ears."
Katsuki rolls his eyes a scoffs.
To be frank with you Eijiro, it's by far the least attractive thing about you.
Oh? You posted this hours after our encounter.
Katsuki looks at an Instagram picture of the Red Riot book he helped Eijiro find that's captioned, 'Honestly, most of my favorite people are books'.
Katsuki stares at the post almost offended.
Ya know, I was almost concerned that you didn't mention the cute guy you met at the book store. But then I realized this isn't ou Eijiro. This is the you that you present to the world. A carefully crafted image of a together, loveable, sweet, graceful creature.
Katsuki stares at yet another picture of Eijiro and his friends.
If anything, the fact that you didn't share me with the extras you call followers just proves we really connected.
Katsuki copy and pastes a picture of Eijiro moving into his apartment in a search bar.
On the computer a picture of an apartment, with the address clearly listed below it comes up.
Katsuki smiles to himself.
And the next thing our dearest friend the internet gave me was your address.