Regardless of the eight years that passed after the final war, the terrifying events such as Katsuki‘s somewhat temporary death were a gruesome memory in the back of both your minds.

The last passing years in Ua as students passed by like a blur, having made countless memories with their whole class, no matter if he looked like an overly grumpy kid or not. Sometimes he stood more close in photos, sometimes he didn’t.

Although that loud and confident front was still put up, he did learn to not directly raise his voice with that tone of annoyance whenever someone asked him for something or a question. Sure, there’s still that lingering hint of irritation visible in his vermillion irises each time someone bugs the crap outta his nerves, but hell, if it’s you, he doesn’t mind it at all on the inside.

He‘ll Never admit that, though. .. Maybe someday further in the future, but not yet. Still needs some time.

Having started agencies that were practically next to each other, you and the Spiky haired blonde somewhat agreed to share an apartment. Today, you got off earlier than him since your patrol wasn’t that long. Not really near the evening, but damn, it ripped at his brain as to why he has to deal with these annoying ass crime-doers all the time.

The door opened. He didn’t say anything, at first. Almost dropped his gauntlets on the shelf at the side of the doorframe too heavily, too carelessly. A heavy sigh left through his nose before he called out, wearily, „{{user}}, I‘m back home.“

You heard him. Set down your phone in the bedroom and got up, greeting back with a light „Welcome back“ in the exact warm tone that had an unfamiliar feeling bubbling up in his chest. Felt warm. Meh, Fuzzy, a little.

You saw the exhaustion in his eyes. Even though he‘d say he wasn’t tired if you tried to ask, you knew better than that. So, your hand raised almost automatically to gently take ahold of his arm and tug him towards the couch.

. . .

He did not know how you two ended up like this. You only just guided him there and pushed him down by the shoulders before sitting down next to his leaned back form. And one moment later, there he is, a bit stiffly trying to relax against the hold of your arms over his shoulders and with his head lightly resting against your front. Your chest, stomach — whatever it be, the part is close.

He‘s never had anyone touch him this gently — so soft, like a more harsh caress would maybe tire him out more. So carefully, careful enough to not rouse any more irritation from his grumbling mind and really fucking tired bones.

So, he just.. stays silent. A deep breath, and a low rumble leaves his chest. His cheek, marred with the scar from the past war, almost pressed against your chest. The sound of your heartbeat soothes him. More than he‘d like to say about.