#woo him

30. November

Izuku stares at the small jar between his sweaty hands. It was filled with twenty-four small, rolled up pieces of paper. A calendar. Handmade. For Kacchan. 

Initially, he had simply scribbled pleasantries on them. A kind gesture between friends. Good friends. Friends who are cool with each other as long as there are other people in the room. Friends who get along perfectly until they are left alone somewhere. But then...came the overwhelming desire for more. For some kind of clarity. For closure.

It's been years now. Years. Years in which he has streamlined his admiration for Kacchan and crushed it every chance he got, every time it got too big in his head, every time it got so intense that it made him almost brave and way too stupid. He feels like floating on waves of hope and terror as soon as Kacchan looked at him for a second too long. And he did. Often. It was horror. Emotional torture. For years.

But it wouldn't go on for another year.

Approaching Kacchan face to face with the 'issue' was out of the question.  A no-go, his head, stomach and heart would instantly combust if Kacchan would just look at him, the moment Izuku confronted him with this plan whirling in his mind.  

But with this jar full of possibilities... it offers the perfect opportunity to finally... FINALLY close the loop. 

Now is the best time of the year to do it, because there comes a day for everyone when it's time to go home and celebrate Christmas. Time to fill the belly with pot roast and the head with carols and ideas for the future.

Sighing softly, he ran his index finger through the colorful scraps of paper. He wanted to do this. He really did. But it scared the hell out of him. 

His original idea to gift Kacchan a nice little calendar had turned into a subtle plan to woo the other. He had crumpled up some of the harmless slips of paper and replaced them. Some of the notes were now of a more daring nature. The note with 'Hug', for example. If Kacchan drew it too early, it could ruin everything. 

And the note for the 24th ... well, Kacchan was only allowed to open it after all the others had been used. Because on the last note, Izuku had finally thrown caution to the wind. It was all or nothing at Christmas, IF Kacchan used all the other 23 notes. 

This was the only way he would survive the opening of this particular note. It was pure tactics. Assuming that he and Kacchan had already failed in the attempt to hug (and let's be honest: he does), Kacchan could simply let the 24th note go up in flames and both of them would still have enough dignity left to overlook this desperate attempt to get closer next year. 

With a final prayer to the All Might, who looked down on him from his wall in poster form, he picked up the jar and left his room.

He knocks, twice, lowers his hand and steps back. The glass mists between his fingers, the skin between his shoulder blades damp. He is so nervous that he has to actively remind himself to breathe. To relax his face, to keep his shoulders from hunching under his ears. To appear relaxed. 

Behind the door, he heard the creak of a desk chair and took a breath so quickly that black spots crossed his vision. Shifting his weight, Izuku raised the glass to his chest with both hands and forced himself to smile. Except... Kacchan hated fake smiles. The corners of his mouth turned down within a second. Footsteps could be heard. His little finger slipped off the glass. "Crap," he gasped, lowering the glass to his stomach and hastily wiping it dry on his sweater. One of the slips fell out. 

"C-crap!"

He crouches, his knee barely touching the floor, as the door jerks open. A pair of black socks steps up to the threshold, the silence filled with so much unspoken dialogue that Izuku already knew how Kacchan was looking at him before he even turned his head. 

The blond skipped his What the hell? and Izuku skipped his apology. 

Instead, he picked up the small piece of green paper from the ground, threw it into the glass with the others and straightened up.

"This," he holds out his hands with the glass, "is for you."

Red eyes, narrowed in skepticism and annoyance, sink down to his hands over his insecure grin. Izuku follows his gaze. 

To the jar of niceties. 

The jar of risks. 

If he gripped it any tighter, the glass would shatter. Now or never. 

If Katsuki took it now, he would have no chance to change what would happen next. Licking his lips, he nodded encouragingly, "It's a calendar."

Murmuring something that sounded very much like "For what?", Katsuki simply took the jar from his hands, shook it and looked into it with irritation. "What are these notes?"

Izuku's heart stuttered heavily, for the jar had finally left his possession and his fate had taken an inevitable direction, the outcome of which suddenly seemed to him as if he were sailing without sails on an endless ocean, on whose horizon heavy storm clouds were already gathering, which his naked boat would surely...

"Deku"

His thought snapped and he jumped. What was the question? He stared back at the glass, searching for words that weren't 90% cheesy, then squeaked, "Niceties.”

Katsuki's eyes narrowed even more, even though he hadn't thought it possible, and before Izuku understood what was happening, he pulled out one of the pieces. He tucked the glass under his arm and was about to unfold the note when Izuku's brain caught up with him. 

"Don't!" he shouts, "Not yet!" he grabbed Kacchan's hand, clutching warm fingers and the note and looking up with a pounding heart, "It's a calendar, Kacchan! You don't open the first drawing until tomorrow. Not - not today."

"And who's gonna stop me, huh?" he grunts and jerks his hand free, "You?"

The thought of taking the glass back from him pops into his head. He is at a loss for words. How could he make Kacchan wait until tomorrow? Should he appeal to his honor? His dignity? Kacchan's manners?

"Just please ...don't."

As always, pleading with the blonde was like a squirt of lemon in the eye. Kacchan winced and almost reluctantly put the note back into the glass, giving Izuku, who was still standing in the hallway, a last, deeply irritated look. 

"Thanks or whatever."

And well. With that, the jar was indeed handed over. Ugh. Just like that. 

Izuku takes a last breathless look at Kacchan's hands, in which the glass seems to be even smaller than in his own, before the door slams shut in his face. 

"Good night Kacchan," he whispers, his nerves fraying faster than the fastest cycle of a washing machine, as he heads back to his own room.

The calendar for spoiler immune folks:

Caspiron tenses up, shoulders hunched, butdoes not shy away from the approach. Instead, he tilts his head up, squintingthrough the eyeholes of his mask.

“Perhaps, but you must have a very…subjective definition of beauty, then.” He says, a dry sort of humour creepinginto his tone, but falling ultimately flat as he picks nervously at thebandages covering his wrists. Regardless, he reaches up, bony fingers fumblingwith the copper clasps keeping the mask flush to his face.

It falls away without much of a fanfare. Hequietly slips it off, and then peers up at Lumenos from theshadows of his cowl.

He has an angular face, with a sharp set ofcheekbones and a prominent brow. The remaining pale flesh and skin stillclinging to his bones are charred and blistered in places, in an odd patterncreeping up from where layers of bandages cover his neck. His lips are thin andstretched taut over his teeth, which seem almost too large to fit in his mouth.His cheeks seem to have been split open at one point, and is now neatly sewn togetherwith a silvery row of stitches. His nose is missing completely.

His eyes are the clearest, flickering withthe necrotic force keeping his bones animated, casting odd shadows over thesharp angles of his own features.

Kacchan: seriously *image attached* Deku: positive! *image attached* to be honest that one was planned as a joke! for later, you know after you got some ...other things Kacchan: like Deku: no spoilers kacchan so? want me to bring it uuup? ... Kacchan? Kacchan: keep it Deku: 。・°°・(＞_＜)・°°・。

He felt nervous from the very first second he opened his eyes today. How would it go? When would he read the first - what would be on the first piece of paper? They had a free period later. Maybe then? Should he knock on his door again? Would that remind Kacchan or just put him off?

God, the worries piled up in his stomach until they reached the top of his skull. Breakfast was probably out of the question today. Lunch and dinner were also in jeopardy if he couldn't figure out HOW Kacchan was going to deal with the calendar. ...there was nothing in the garbage this morning. He'd checked it. Just in case.

Still, he was relieved.

Yesterday, he hadn't realized how exciting and nerve-wracking waiting could be. How helpless he would feel. How soberingly hopeful.

And then PING - the relief. The solution! Sure, via chat. Simple. Efficient. He nodded in approval, while his heart dropped between his knees on the chair and then on the floor.

He saw Kacchan's picture - O M G, he saw the other paper slips in the background - he really opened it - he accepted it, didn't he?!? - O K - a reaction! Interaction! Does this count as "We're doing this?"

God, what an onslaught of excitement. It felt just like when All-Might had once patted his hair. Bursting with energy, Izuku scanned his desk and spotted a pack of tissues at the edge, next to the books, tore one out, scribbled a face on it and quickly snapped a photo. He did not want to appear unprepared!

But the photo was ignored, as was his humor, and when he didn't answer Kacchan's monosyllabic question, he could have guessed what answer he would get. A rejection.

Izuku slowly lowered his cell phone and reached for the tissue, resting his face on one arm with a sigh.

This was starting much worse than Izuku had expected. Of all the things Kacchan could have drawn, he drew something completely out of context.