#will I ever stop drawing katsuki as a star? nope

[herbarimoon]

A fallen star

[bakuthedeku]

KatsuYami Week: changing routine

Day 5: Childhood / Trading cards / Sleepovers | @katsuyamiverse

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“Let’s have a sleepover!”

Beside him at the table, Yami looks up from his work, eyes lowered in falsified disinterest. The little sparkle in his uncovered eye gives away his excitement.

“Katsuki, we’re sixteen. We’re too old for sleepovers.”

Speaking, Yami does a better job hiding the happiness that undoubtedly wants to creep into his voice.

Classic Yami, monotone and moody to the day he dies.

“I’ll be too old for sleepovers when I’m dead!” Katsuki flops in front of his best friend, half in his lap. He grins, wide and happy, the way that makes Yami call him an oversized puppy and pet his hair.

He gets no hair pets this time (dang it), but Yami’s poorly crafted expression fades to sincerity. Something soft, with little crinkles at the corner of his eye and the faintest whisper of a smile on his chapped lips. Yami rolls his eyes and pushes Katsuki back into his seat.

“Why do you want to have a sleepover, anyway? We see each other every day,” Yami says, turning back to his long-completed homework.

“It’s different at sleepovers. There’s snacks and pyjamas, and I get to spend the whole night with Yami!”

“I’m right here. Why are you speaking about me in the third person?”

Katsuki waves off the question. “So you’ll come to my house after school?”

Yami sags against his chair, sinking down so he’s half under the table. There’s a small smile on his lips as he bemoans, “Do I have a choice?”

“Nope!” Katsuki cheers, chipper as the cat who got the cream. “Sharp as ever, my freckled friend.”

/-/

They go home together like usual, walking to the train station and riding to the stop closest to their shared neighbourhood, then walking leisurely to their homes. They go to Yami’s house first, then Katsuki’s. They’ve maintained the same routine since middle school.

Yami likes to complain about the amount of walking they do, especially when Katsuki leads them on the scenic route through the park, but they both know his supposed lack of stamina is bullshit. They’re in the hero course together, after all, and Yami trained hard for it. A few minutes of walking beside Katsuki is hardly going to wind the lazy boy.

Katsuki, at least, enjoys their walks. An enduring tradition between them, it’s something that feels theirs in a way few things do. With each synchronous step they take, they’re followed by the ghostly memories of years passed, nostalgic as they look to the future and stride towards their goals.

Yami moans and groans enough that they stop by his house instead of going straight to Katsuki’s, because apparently, “Clothes are necessary, Katsuki, I’m not wearing any of your oversized stuff.” And honestly, boo. He’s no fun. But Katsuki wants this sleepover, so he agrees and chats amicably with Yami’s mother as he packs an overnight bag like the fussy nerd he not-so-secretly is inside.

Katsuki snatches the bag from Yami’s hands as they leave, calling a cheery goodbye to his Aunty as he does so. Yami sighs and lets him take the bag, knowing by now that Katsuki won’t give it back no matter how hard he tries.

At his house, Katsuki plays the part of a good host, offering drinks and snacks and putting Yami’s stuff away in his room. Yami’s been here more times than Katsuki can count, with evidence of his presence speckled through each room, but it’s been more than a year since their last sleepover. It doesn’t hurt to refresh the knowledge, to lend a hand, right?

They sit down on the couch together and watch old hero cartoons; Katsuki’s choice, barely contested by Yami since he enjoys the cartoons just as much as Katsuki does. The hour passes quickly, humming nostalgic tunes watching the television like particularly attentive children.

They’re interrupted when they get called up for dinner. The meal is reminiscent of the past, with Yami awkward and stiff like an emo robot and Katsuki’s ma and pop ushering him into conversation. Katsuki stuffs his face, and Yami cringes at his enthusiastic eating, hiding his laughter behind a hand.

They go up to Katsuki’s room once they’re finished eating. This time, for fairness’ sake, Katsuki lets Yami pick what they do. They end up next to each other on Katsuki’s bed, sharing one earbud each as they listen to Yami’s videos. Heads ducked close for the headphones, their thighs press warmly together. Yami is soft at Katsuki’s side, elbow poking into his ribs only a little, the bony thing.

Katsuki finds himself watching Yami more than he watches the screen. (He’s on Yami’s fringe’s side, so he can get away with it.) From so close, he can trace the star-speckled expanse of Yami’s skin, can observe the way his tongue flicks out to wet plush but dry lips, can bask in his quietly comforting presence.

They stay like that for hours, far beyond Katsuki’s usual bed time, but he can’t bring himself to call it a night and pull away. Katsuki lets his head fall to Yami’s shoulder as he closes his eyes, lulled to rest by the soft tones of music and Yami’s support at his side. Idly, Katsuki contemplates that Yami’s warmth is just like a bear hug in the middle of winter, or a sunrise observed from under blankets, or falling asleep curled up by a heater and waking in bed.

Gentle shaking stirs Katsuki to wakefulness. He blinks heavy eyes open to find earphones pooled in his and Yami’s laps and Yami’s arms around him, keeping him from falling off the bed. He tries to relax against his short friend, wishing to sink into his warmth and find sleep again, but only gets shoved for his attempt. It works in his favour, though; he lands right in Yami’s nice, pillow-like lap, and stays there. Very comfy.

Yami concedes to sleep only when Katsuki starts nodding off again in his lap, just seconds after falling into it. It’s almost a shame, Katsuki thinks, since sleeping on Yami has always been so nice and comfortable.

“Alright, you big lug, get off me. It’s sleep time.”

“Wanna sleep here,” Katsuki slurs into Yami’s stomach.

“Katsuki,” Yami warns, exasperated and a touch flustered—desperate. The hint of distress in his voice is enough to have Katsuki sitting up, turning away and preparing for bed.

After rushing through his bedtime routine, Katsuki settles into bed (on the far side, as is tradition) and waits for Yami to finish putting on his special, better-than-Katsuki’s-stuff pyjamas. For someone who always looks so sloppy, he sure does take his time getting dressed!

Yami comes back from the bathroom in an oversized All Might shirt and plain black shorts. The wide neck of the top exposes his freckle-covered neck, shoulders and collarbones.

“I don’t have anywhere to sleep,” Yami says, and snaps Katsuki from his distracted state.

They’ve always shared the bed during sleepovers. From four years old to fourteen, they’d squished up under the covers together without complaint, whispering after lights out with legs tangled and fingers interlocked. They kept secrets from the morning in little giggles and innocent touches, a truth uniquely theirs.

Katsuki wriggles aside, moving closer to the wall. “We can both fit.”

Yami’s nose scrunches. “Katsuki, that’s weird.”

“Only if you make it weird, Yami-kun~!”

It’s been more than a year. Since their falling out in middle school, things haven’t quite been the same. Which, Katsuki knows, isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Change can be good, refreshing, healing! But this is change Katsuki never wanted.

A shiver, and he’s being glared at. Katsuki pouts in response.

“Never use that honorific ever again.”

“Only if you get in bed. Come on, it’ll be just like when we were younger.”

And maybe it’s not good that Katsuki is clinging to the past. Clinging to Yami.

But he’s loved Yami since before he knew what love is. Selfish as it is, he wants one last sleepover. One last chance to huddle close, be together, before life tears them apart and Yami outgrows him. One last hug, one last joke, one last smile. One last relived memory of simpler days. It’s all Katsuki wants.

Yami turns the lights off, washing the room with soft darkness. Pale skin stands out against darker clothes.

Yami edges onto the bed, movements stiff. Eyes considering. “It’s different now, though.”

Hope blooms, light and feathered, in Katsuki’s heart.

“Is not.” A lie, but a nice lie to tell.

“It is.”

“Is not.”

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yep, and you love me anyway!”

Katsuki loves Yami. He believes that, in some way, Yami loves him back. Platonic, romantic, familial; whatever it is, Katsuki will take whatever he can get.

Yami’s cheeks and ears go a little pink, almost imperceptible in the low light blanketing the room. Katsuki would love to see it in full, but Yami would cut his fringe and sock Katsuki in the face before allowing himself to be seen blushing of all things.

Yami grumbles as he climbs into bed, snuggling under soft sheets.

Katsuki turns onto his side to face his friend, sighing happily.

Slowly, Yami does the same, and they’re face to face, under the cover of sheets and the night. Katsuki breathes as softly as he can, as if one too-strong exhalation will scare Yami off, a deer into the woods.

Yami is looking at him, and he looks back, unsure of what he’ll find but eager to see it anyway.

His heart beats in his ears as their eyes lock, red and green, sleep slick and sparkling with wakefulness. Both of Yami’s eyes are bared, his hair tied back for sleep; they’re round and sharp at once, speckled with crystalline fractals of an entire spectrum of red.

Maybe this was a mistake. It’ll be impossible to fall asleep like this.

Katsuki’s heartbeat, so loud in his ears he fears it will shake the bed like an earthquake, shows no signs of calming, and his hands are sweating. Yami will never forgive him if he sets his quirk off by accident.

“Katsuki?” Yami’s voice comes in a whisper, breath brushing warm on Katsuki’s face.

“Mm?” Katsuki scoots closer, magnetised and helpless to fight his draw to the other.

“You’ve been weird, lately. Less dopey smiles and stuff. Are you okay?”

Katsuki swallows. “Things feel different, I guess. We don’t hang out like we used to. We don’t. Touch like we used to.” He licks his lips, eyes flitting away for a moment and finding Yami still watching him as he looks back. “Is that weird? To miss that?”

Yami moves closer, and their knees bump. The heat of two bodies mingle, trapped under the covers and near stifling. Katsuki moves closer still, and their knees overlap. They’re both too gangly for this bed, now.

“Dunno. Maybe. But most people think we’re weird anyway, right?”

Katsuki huffs out a laugh.

In primary school and middle school, they’d often struggled to have friends outside of each other. They made for a strange duo; Yami, quirkless and deadpan and ‘creepy’, and Katsuki, bright and fiercely defensive and kind of rude.

They’ve always made it work, nonetheless.

“Right,” Katsuki agrees.

Their arms, curled up in front of their torsos and just slightly touching, tangle together. Yami reaches to poke Katsuki in the chest, and he fakes a wince.

“What was that for?” he whines.

“Stop being weird. I don’t like doing the heart to heart stuff, it’s your territory. So don’t make me do this again, dumby.”

Katsuki takes Yami’s hand from his chest. Scarred, freckled, soft, familiar. He squeezes tight, cradling it between his hands, and Yami closes his eyes.

“Okay, I promise. Let’s sleep, it’s way past my bedtime.”

In the darkness, for Katsuki’s eyes only, Yami smiles. The hand in his squeezes back.

“Goodnight, Katsuki.”

“Sleep well, Yami.”

I love you, he doesn’t say. But he thinks Yami gets the message just fine.