Shapes!

"Sap," Hitoshi says, his entire face going soft, because he knows what Katsuki is doing and Katsuki can't even refute him because yes, when it comes to Hitoshi, he's a goddamn sap of the biggest order, but he still has to be contrary.

"You shut the hell up," he mutters, his voice cutting even as he presses their shoulders together more firmly.

"Whatever you say," Hitoshi happily gives back, leans over to press a kiss to Katsuki's hair and then steps away, which instantly makes Katsuki's hand shoot out in panic, grabbing on to the sleeve of Hitoshi's suit.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting us something to drink, you big baby," Hitoshi laughs out. "Relax. You're not going to die if I leave you to your own devices for five minutes."

Katsuki might, or maybe someone else will die if a brave, yet stupid soul decides to take that opportunity to accost Katsuki and Hitoshi's eyes sparkle with mirth.

"View it as a training exercise, you're always so eager to crush those. And maybe you'll get a reward if you make it," Hitoshi drawls out, nothing but heat in his eyes and a promise curling around his lips and okay.

Maybe Katsuki can be good with an incentive like that.

"Get out of my sight," he snaps and deliberately turns away from Hitoshi, to oversee the crowd again.

Hitoshi doesn't hesitate to simply walk away and only the promise of him coming back keeps Katsuki rooted to the spot because he feels absolutely lost and lonely without him by his side, but he'd rather die than admit that.

Not that Hitoshi doesn't know it, anyway.

His glare keeps people at bay for all of two minutes before someone manages to weasel his way through his protective friends and takes up position next to Katsuki.

Shishikura fucking Seiji.

Katsuki can't help the sneer because that guy's quirk fucking sucks, his attitude is even worse and it doesn't help at all that he and Hitoshi had a thing once upon a time.

It was a long time ago, basically still during their school days, but Katsuki is a possessive bastard and knowing that this fuckhead touched what's now his makes his blood boil.

"Get fucking lost," Katsuki seethes out because he thinks if he has to talk to him, then he's going to forget himself and cause that scene everyone was so damn hard at work to avoid but the meatfucker just smiles at him.

And then he has the audacity to speak.

"I see you're still corrupting him," the extra says and Katsuki feels his eye twitch but he's not about to react, he's not.

Hitoshi would be disappointed if he gets them kicked out, Katsuki just knows it, so he can't.

Shishikura seems to be taking up on that, but it doesn't stop him from talking, oh no, the fucker smiles at him and then goes on anyway.

"I thought he was getting better, that he was shedding that pesky self-harming habit, but I see nothing has changed."

Now that brings Katsuki up short, because Hitoshi has shed that habit. Katsuki has seen the scars, of course he has, and since he has a first row seat to everything Hitoshi these days, he knows that no new ones have found their way on his body.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Katsuki demands to know, not even lasting a goddamn minute with a bait like that dangling in front of his face and Shishikura smiles at him as if he knows it, too.

"He's using you. You think he loves you? Nah, he chose you because you're nothing but anger and pain and it suits his need to hurt himself. He's nothing if not a glutton for punishment. That's all it is. And one day, therapy will kick in and he'll realise that he's better than that, that he deserves better than that."

"And then he'll come crawling back to you, I suppose?" Katsuki hisses out, anger burning under his skin and he clings to that with desperate strength.

Anything is better than to think about his words.

"We'll see," that fuckhead says and then swaggers off as if he didn't just drop a metaphorical bomb in Katsuki's head, and not a second too soon, because Katsuki's hands are heating up.

And then it all fizzles out when big, calloused hands slide into his.

"No killing the extras," Hitoshi mildly says, their supposed drinks nowhere to be seen and a worried frown between his eyes. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Katsuki spits out and yanks his hands back as if Hitoshi's touch could hurt him—as if his touch could hurt Hitoshi—and he doesn't quite manage to meet his eyes.

"Katsuki," Hitoshi almost warningly says but Katsuki can't, he can't talk to him, he can't let this happen, he can't let this fucker's nonsense get to him and yet—

"I'm going home," he declares and shoulders past Hitoshi without a look back, hurrying out of the venue as fast as he can.

He still catches Shishikura's smug smile and for a moment Katsuki doesn't know if he wants to kill him or himself.

~*~*~

Katsuki is pacing in the living-room, trying to decide if it's a smart move to call Aizawa to tell him that he needs to put his foot down and forbid Hitoshi from ever seeing Katsuki again or not, but before he can come to a conclusion on that front, Hitoshi comes home.

Because of course he would. Because of course he didn't stay at the party for much longer after Katsuki left and he should have known.

He should have known.

Hitoshi doesn't even ask him anything when he steps into the room, he just comes in, one eyebrow raised, his expression perfectly clear in conveying his expectation for Katsuki to talk about whatever it is that's bothering him and Katsuki freezes.

Because his first instinct is to snap at him, anger shimmering in his gut and suddenly, it makes him sick to his stomach.

He thought he got better; he's been working hard on himself and on his emotional reactions and he thought he was doing okay in that regard but clearly, he has just been deluding himself.

His first reaction to anything is still to snap and the emotion coming to him most easily is still anger and Hitoshi is always, always the one who has to take the brunt of both.

And it makes Katsuki sick with disgust and self-hate.

"Now or later?" Hitoshi finally asks, because apparently there's no way out of this for Katsuki, but he still tries.

"Never," he gets out, careful to keep his voice even and neutral but probably failing by a mile because all his shouting has made it rough and grating, no matter how hard he tries for anything else.

"Not an option and you know it," Hitoshi shakes his head and sits down on the couch as if he isn't bothered by anything, but his gaze keeps tracking Katsuki's every move like a hawk and there's no out of this.

Hitoshi will hunt him down should Katsuki run now.

"Seiji said something to you," Hitoshi finally guesses and just hearing that fucker's given name from Hitoshi's lips makes Katsuki's blood boil.

"So what if he did?" Katsuki snaps out and immediately rears back because he shouldn't, he can't, Hitoshi doesn't deserve his anger and he shouldn't be this angry anyway.

"So what? It's clearly upsetting you so tell me what the hell he said so I can kick his ass over it!" Hitoshi snaps back and that's not right.

Hitoshi is supposed to be mellow and happy and not angry and he shouldn't have to take Katsuki's anger, either.

Maybe that meat-freak was on to something here.

"You're still self-harming," Katsuki whispers, feeling cold with the realisation that—conscious decision or not—Hitoshi allows him to be like that because he sees it as the punishment he deserves and he can't get otherwise, since he's not hurting himself anymore.

He's using Katsuki to do it.

"The hell I am," Hitoshi immediately gives back. "And you damn well know it, too. I haven't hurt myself in ages."

"But you do, you just—do it through me."

Every fight they ever had flashes through Katsuki's mind, the way Hitoshi pushes sometimes, long past the point of no return and it's all startlingly clear suddenly.

He's doing that so Katsuki will snap, so he says all the wrong things because Katsuki has never been good at self-control and Hitoshi is using that.

Hitoshi blinks at him before his face clouds over.

"What the actual fuck," he mutters and gets up, pacing through the living-room, much like Katsuki did before he came home.

"What the actual fucking fuck," he repeats, louder this time and when he whirls around to glare at Katsuki there's a whole lot of anger in his eyes.

"Am I wrong?"

"You? Yeah, because this idea comes from you and not straight from that fucker’s mouth," Hitoshi seethes. "And yes, you're dead fucking wrong. What the hell, Katsuki?"

"He's right, though. I'm nothing but anger and you're all too happy to take it," Katsuki mutters and a second later Hitoshi is right in his face, his hands fisted in his collar and he's baring his teeth at Katsuki.

"Shut the fuck up," he hisses, shaking Katsuki for good measure, too. "This is so fucked up! You think I'm using you?"

"I think my anger suits your needs very well," Katsuki almost diplomatically gives back and new rage blazes in Hitoshi's gaze.

"Yeah, because I'm volatile and have poor impulse control and an incessant need to wheedle strong reactions out of people! It has nothing to do with self-harming!"

"Doesn't it?" Katsuki whispers and all the fight suddenly leaves Hitoshi.

"It doesn't," he emphasises and scrubs a hand over his face. "Fuck, angel, it has nothing to do with that at all. You're so good, and you're actually the only reason that keeps me from self-harming most of the time."

"Because I'm doing it myself."

"Will you shut up," Hitoshi immediately hisses. "I don't want to hear another word from you. Where's my fucking phone."

Katsuki takes a moment to process that request and by the time he gets out a confused "What?" Hitoshi has already dialled a number.

"Yes, dear?" Shishikura's loathed voice rings out and for a moment Katsuki sees red.

And then Hitoshi's voice cuts through the haze.

"You stupid, jealous, idiotic bastard," Hitoshi spits. "Stay the fuck out of my relationship or I'll rip you limb from limb until not even your fucking quirk can mend you back together."

"Ah," comes the reply. "I take it I hit a nerve?"

"The only thing you'll hit is an early grave if you keep shit like that up," Hitoshi promises him. "We're over and you trying to destroy what I have is not going to change that."

"I guess we'll see about that."

"Yeah, we will," Hitoshi agrees. "Try shit like that again and you'll find out why the scum of this world trembles in their boots when they hear my name."

Hitoshi ends the call without waiting for a reply and then he's there a second later, taking Katsuki's face in his hands and making it impossible to look away from him.

"You are not hurting me," he says with emphasis. "I am a volatile bastard myself and I need someone to match that. You're just as angry as I need you to be. I need someone to match that itching under my skin, yes, but it has nothing to do with self-harm and everything with happiness. I couldn't ever be happy with someone who needs me to be soft and loving at all times; I need someone who matches my snark and my wit and my fucking mood swings and who doesn't back down and who is not afraid to verbally spar with me. And that's you. It's you, Kats, and it makes me so goddamn happy."

Hitoshi's voice is urgent, as if he's afraid that he won't get to say everything he needs to even though Katsuki is rooted to the spot.

"So my temper is not—"

"I fucking love your temper. I love how you blow up at the smallest of things. It's amusing and comforting and gives me the security to do the same instead of always reigning everything in and you make everything better. You let me be who I am by being who you are and it makes me want to not hurt myself because I'm happy. I'm goddamn happy with you and don't you ever dare imply anything else."

It should be absolutely stupid that something like that makes Katsuki tear up but to hear that he's, well, loved, just how he is, is more than he could have ever hoped for and with Hitoshi so firmly in his space, so firmly telling him that what they have is good, Katsuki sees what Shishikura was doing.

He definitely hit a nerve there, that's for sure.

"That fucker," Katsuki breathes out and Hitoshi huffs out a laugh.

"I meant it. If he tries something like that again, I'll kill him myself. He still wants me—"

"But he can't have you," Katsuki interjects and suddenly, Hitoshi's face goes all soft again as he leans in to nose at Katsuki's cheek.

"No. Because you have me. And I am in no rush to change that." Hitoshi puts some distance between them again so he can properly look at Katsuki. "Okay?"

"Okay," Katsuki agrees, his hands coming up to circle around Hitoshi's wrists and keep him in place as he nuzzles into his hands. "I love you, too."

"Damn right you do," Hitoshi huffs out and leans in for a kiss. "I love you. Just like you are."

He just said as much, with so many more words and still, this soothes something in Katsuki anyway.

"Point taken."

"I should fucking hope so," Hitoshi says with a grin and then bites Katsuki's cheek, like he's known to do and it melts the rest of the uncertainty away from Katsuki because it's so familiar that it practically turns him into mush and no one else would ever be allowed to do something like that to Katsuki without getting a fist to the face but Hitoshi clearly knows all the liberties he's allowed to take.

And even still, he gets a punch to the stomach for it, just enough for him to feel it, because that’s Katsuki’s liberty to take and when Hitoshi only grins at him for it, bright and happy and so damn amused, Katsuki purges that meatfucker’s words from his mind.

Hitoshi looks happy, he’s said he’s happy and Hitoshi is an expert on all things Hitoshi, Katsuki just needs to remember that and believe him to boot.

And it’s almost easy when Hitoshi’s grin turns wicked as he leans in to bite Katsuki’s other cheek and then dances out of the way when he predictably tries to smack him again and when Katsuki lets out an aggrieved sigh, Hitoshi laughs, bright and loud.

And as happy as can be.