After The Rain [Chapter 3 - Grey]

[Last Chapter] 

Katsuki wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

The weather had been gross all morning, all dim and dull and dreary. Thick clouds, heavy with rain, had been hanging low in the sky since Katsuki had woken up, and as the day wore on, they’d finally begun to shed their heavy sheets. He’d spent most of the morning curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a heavy duvet, staring blankly at some shitty old TV show. He really couldn’t have cared less about what was going on, but his Dad sat next to him, laptop open with some dull spreadsheet he had to work on, and Katsuki knew he liked it when they sat together.

“Looks like the weather finally came in,” Masaru mused, looking up at the downpour quickly growing heavier beyond the windows. “I’m glad I don’t have any errands to run.”

“Mm,” Katsuki mumbled, glancing at his phone. “Guess everyone is staying home today.”

Masaru seemed to catch something in his tone, glancing over with a warm smile, though his eyes were slightly wider than usual behind his glasses.

“Did you have plans?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light – Katsuki suspected anyone else would have believed it, but Katsuki heard the surprise in his tone. “I’m happy to drive you somewhere, if that helps.”

“S’fine, no big deal.”

All the same, his stomach swirled. He wasn’t even entirely sure why. It wasn’t like he wanted to go out, he’d just kind of stumbled his way into it with Izuku’s inexplicable enthusiasm and insistence on hanging out again. Honestly, that enthusiasm was exhausting, he wasn’t sure he even had the energy to deal with it – so why did he feel disappointed about the weather putting a damper on their plans?

His phone buzzed in his hand, and he felt his eyes widen when the familiar name lit up his screen – had Izuku somehow heard him thinking about him?

“Phone call,” he explained, when Masaru looked over. “One sec.”

He hit the green button, lifting it to his ear, and sure enough, that merry voice echoed from the speaker.

“Hi Kacchan!” he said, making Katsuki wince a little, quickly turning down his volume. “How are you? Did you sleep well?”

“I guess,” Katsuki grunted. “Um, hi.”

“Hi!”

Katsuki could hear the grin in his voice – how did he do that? Katsuki couldn’t even force a smile for photographs, but here was Izuku, talking like the sun shone out of his damn asshole.

“Weather is shit, huh?” Katsuki mumbled.

“It’s a bit wet!” Izuku agreed. “I was wondering if you want to come hang out at my apartment? I can make lunch for us, and we can just... Uh... Chill?”

Katsuki snorted at that, surprising even himself with the sudden little laugh that came with it.

“You know what I mean!” Izuku insisted, giggling to himself. “No pressure, you know? We can just hang out on the sofa, catch up, eat some junk food.”

“Sure,” Katsuki agreed, once again surprising himself – he hadn’t planned to agree, hadn’t even really thought about it. “Text me your address, then.”

“Okay! And you can just show up whenever, okay? Don’t stress about being here at a certain time, I’ll just be doodling and stuff anyway. So wait until the rain dies down, don’t get drenched!”

“Sure.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then! See you soon? Ish? Or something?”

“Soon,” Katsuki agreed. “Um, should I... Bring something? For lunch?”

“Nope!” Izuku answered, without a moment of hesitation. “I have it all sorted!”

“Alright,” he agreed. “Soon, then.”

“Soon!” Izuku echoed. “Take care, Kacchan! Safe travels!”

“I will.”

He hung up, taking a moment to catch his breath – his heart was thumping hard in his chest, trying to fight its way out of the bone prison of his ribcage, and Katsuki had to press a fist to his chest to make sure it wasn’t making progress.

“Are you going out?” Masaru asked gently.

“I guess so,” he mumbled, setting his phone down and wrapping his blanket around himself tighter.

“Meeting up with a friend?”

“Deku.”

“Oh!” Masaru sat up a little straighter, a smile tugging at his lips. “How is he? I heard he was back in town, but I haven’t crossed paths with him yet!”

“He’s doing really well,” Katsuki admitted, still a little in awe of it all – not that he’d ever say that part out loud. “He’s painting, like he always did.”

“That’s amazing! I’m glad he can earn a living doing what he loves.”

“Yeah.” Katsuki nodded, just once. “He seems... Really happy. He um, was excited. For me. The whole ‘opportunity’ thing. Finding what I want to do next, or whatever. He doesn’t... Know all the details. But yeah. We talked a bit, and he wanted to catch up for lunch.”

“That sounds great, you two used to be so close when you were kids.”

“I guess so. Been a long time, but he insisted.”

“Good,” Masaru smiled wryly. “Sometimes you need a little push.”

Katsuki shoved him lightly, but cracked a smile all the same, not fighting it when Masaru slung an arm around his shoulders fondly.

“I’ll drop you off,” he offered. “Do you want to go now?”

“Nah,” Katsuki answered, leaning in a little and letting his father’s cheesy, stupid love envelop him. “After this episode.”

Masaru smiled at that, reaching for the remote to hit play, and Katsuki let himself get sucked back into the dumb reality show.

His mother despised them, got way too pissed off at all the stupid things the contestants did, but Masaru had adored them for as long as Katsuki could remember. And Katsuki, he hated to admit, kind of enjoyed it too. Seeing people make stupid mistakes in their cooking, or get yelled at for their dumb mistakes in their businesses, or hell, even participating in ridiculous physical challenges that Katsuki swore black and blue that he could have done with no issue. Masaru had never argued with him on that, had always just smiled and nodded and agreed that yeah, Katsuki could probably do it in his sleep.

He’d spent many an hour of his life binging the stupid shows with his dad, and it had been kind of nice to pick up that habit again since being back home. They’d started spending every Saturday morning in front of the TV, Katsuki curled up in the corner of the couch, his heaviest blanket wrapping him up in a warm hug, while his dad sat at his side and made fun of the contestants with him.

When the episode wrapped up, they took a minute longer to talk about it, and then Katsuki hauled himself to his feet. He was still in his pyjamas, a couple of days old at that point, and as much as he thought Izuku wouldn’t care if he showed up in them, he figured he should probably still get dressed before he left the house.

“I’ll give you a lift,” Masaru said again, when Katsuki returned, fully dressed and deodorant-ed.

“Thanks,” he nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I can walk home after.”

“If the weather is still bad, just give me a call! I don’t mind at all.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

He pulled on a baggy hoodie, zipping it up to his chin for warmth, and crawled into the passenger seat of the car. In the past few weeks he’d spent more time in that seat than in the rest of his life put together – he’d been in the back seat any time they’d used the car when he was a kid, and he’d used public transport the rest of the time. It was almost novel, spending so much time being driven around, and for a moment he thought maybe he should give his dad a bit more gratitude over it – he’d been spending a lot of his time carting Katsuki around, lately.

“He’s down by the park,” Katsuki explained, staring at the map on his phone as they started down the street. “In one of those big apartment buildings.”

“Oh, that’s a nice area! He must be very happy there.”

“Mm, should be.”

“I’m surprised he moved out, really. He and Inko have always been so close.”

“Probably easier to get along when they don’t live together.”

“Good point!” he laughed. “You and your mother certainly did.”

“Sorry.”

“What? No, don’t be, I didn’t mean it like that,” Masaru assured him, glancing over to get a look at his expression. “Just that you have less opportunity to clash that way. I think you and I get along a lot better when you’re home, so I prefer it regardless!”

“I get it, you don’t have to fuss.”

“I mean it!”

“I know,” Katsuki answered, falling silent again until they pulled up outside Izuku’s apartment building. He waited until they'd stopped before he opened his mouth again, adding: “It’s good to hang out with you, too.”

Masaru smiled at him warmly, and Katsuki quickly opened the car door, hurrying out before Masaru could get all sappy about it.

“See you later,” he said quickly. “Thanks for the ride.”

“My pleasure! Don’t forget to give me a call when you’re done, if the weather is still bad!”

“Yeah. I’ll keep in touch.”

“And have a great time! Say hello for me!”

“I will.”

He hurried undercover, into the safety of the stone overhang that shielded the front door, where the still-increasing rainfall couldn’t touch him. The intercom lit up under his touch, and he waved over his shoulder at his father, letting him know it was safe to drive away. He would probably still wait until Katsuki was through the door, but at least he’d tried.

“Come on in, Kacchan!” Izuku called through the speaker. “I’ll be there in just a second, but come in where it’s warm!”

“I can come up by myself.”

“Don’t be silly! I’ll be right there to get you!”

The door clicked, and Katsuki opened the door obediently, stepping inside and away from the wind and rain. He glanced back to see his Dad finally pulling out of the parking lot, exchanging one last wave before he disappeared around the corner, but then the elevator was dinging and Izuku was beaming at him from the slowly-opening doors.

“Kacchan!” he called, waving as if Katsuki might not have seen him in the otherwise-empty lobby. “It’s so good to see you!”

“Hey,” he grunted. He knew he should have choked out a you too but he just couldn’t seem to manage it. “Nice building.”

“Yeah! I love it, best apartment I’ve had. I wanted Mom to move too but she’s too attached to our old place. I needed more room to spread out!”

“Oh God, it’s all full of comic books and merch, isn’t it?”

“Maybe a little,” Izuku laughed sheepishly. “But I actually meant for painting and stuff!”

“Oh, right. So um, can I see them?”

“Yeah! Of course! I mean, we pretty much have to walk through them anyway. Come on up!”

Katsuki wasn’t sure why he cared, honestly, but there was a little nagging part of him that wanted to see it all. Izuku had always been talented, had been replicating his favourite comic book heroes while Katsuki was still scribbling out stick figures. His sheer urge to copy those characters, to put them in his own little stories and ideas, had driven him to practice and practice and practice some more, devoting all his time and energy to his artwork. As he’d gotten older, he’d branched out into other areas – landscapes, still-lifes, portraits, even his own original characters to create stories like the ones he loved so much – but Katsuki had a feeling there would still be his old favourites all through the apartment, probably drawn even better than the originals by now.

“Sorry for the mess,” Izuku offered, as he pushed open the apartment door and waved Katsuki inside. “I swear everything is clean, it’s just messy.”

“It’s fine,” Katsuki shrugged, kicking his shoes off in the entryway. “It’s your home, you can do what you want with it.”

The moment he stepped out of the entryway, the apartment opened up into a wide, spacious room that Katsuki suspected was supposed to be a living area – instead, though, the floors were lined with thick plastic sheets, rumpled in places where Izuku had walked across or stood on them, and an entire maze of easels and canvases was laid out in varying states of completion.

“Wow,” he said softly, watching Izuku’s face turn pink. “Can I... Look...?”

“Of course! They’re nothing special, but-”

“Don’t start with that shit,” Katsuki snorted. “Just let me look.”

With a soft smile, Izuku nodded, standing back to watch as Katsuki tiptoed through the narrow paths between his works. He was so quiet, so contemplative, completely unlike the Katsuki he’d known as a kid.

“Kacchan's all grown up,” Izuku teased, unable to resist the urge. “You’re not making fun of me yet, it’s so weird.”

Katsuki huffed quietly, but he didn’t object – didn’t even look back. He was still staring at a set of four small canvases on Izuku’s desk, spread over some old newspaper laid out to protect the wood, and Izuku smiled as he headed over to join him. He leaned over, sliding the mostly-dry tiles closer to each other, to piece together the landscape he’d been working on earlier that morning.

“Seasons,” Katsuki said quietly. “That’s cool.”

“Thank you!”

The image as a whole was already beautiful, Katsuki thought. He’d always loved nature, loved forests and mountains and waterfalls and all the other places that had existed for so long, untouched by humankind. He could have taken the drawing alone on a single canvas and happily hung it on his wall, but of course Izuku was more creative than he was, and had painted it with the most incredible shades of each season.

“It’s nothing special,” Izuku said sheepishly, when Katsuki continued to stare. “We were talking about what kind of season or palette they wanted for the landscape, and they couldn’t decide, so this kind of just... happened.”

“It’s for someone?”

“Oh! Yeah, it’s a commission for a client. They saw some of my work at a little show and asked me to make something for them, it was super sweet!”

“Do you have shows like that often?”

“Not really, no. It was a charity thing like an hour away, so I signed up to show my stuff and to help out! There aren’t many opportunities for it locally, so I mostly just arrange everything online!”

“Makes sense,” Katsuki acknowledged, although a small part of him wondered why Izuku didn’t move somewhere better, somewhere with more opportunities. “This one is really cool.”

“Thank you!” Izuku beamed at him, so genuinely joyful at the praise. “I’m really glad you like it!”

When Katsuki had had his fill of exploring the miniature art gallery, Izuku showed him around the rest of the apartment. His larger bedroom had been converted to a living room, since the main area was taken up with his work, with the smaller containing a double bed and a ton of merch, just as Katsuki had expected. Other than the bathroom, that was it – simple and uncluttered, surprisingly, considering Izuku had called it messy. He just meant all the paintings, Katsuki assumed.

There was a smell radiating out from the kitchen, something warm and savoury, and Izuku smiled knowingly when he caught Katsuki’s eye.

“Do you still like spicy food?” he asked. “I put a curry on, I thought with this weather we needed something hot and comforting.”

“I love curry,” Katsuki answered awkwardly – even though it was true, it was somehow so difficult to admit that he liked things. “Thanks.”

“I’m glad! Come have a seat, it should be ready!”

He ushered Katsuki to the table, getting him settled in with a mug of hot tea, then headed through to the adjoining kitchen to start dishing up food. As he scooped out two bowls of rice, Katsuki just watched him, listening to the quiet, happy way Izuku hummed to himself as he worked.

“I made it extra spicy for you,” Izuku told him, setting the bowls between them on the table. “So excuse me if I die.”

Katsuki snorted, but Izuku just grinned back, sitting down opposite him.

“Alright! Let’s catch up while we eat!”

“Sure,” Katsuki answered, despite the heavy weight sinking in his stomach. “Wanna tell me what you’ve been up to?”

Izuku nodded, an understanding look on his face that Katsuki wasn’t sure if he was grateful for or wanted to punch. He knew Izuku had to have heard the rumours floating around town, there was no way he’d avoided them, and that expression on his stupid face just confirmed Katsuki's suspicions.

“Well, I got a degree in art, as you know,” Izuku began. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since we were both back after graduation? I had a nice job illustrating for kids’ books for a while, but the owners sold the company and it wasn’t the same after that. It was super repetitive, the new boss was really strict about working nine to five even if we didn’t have work to do, always finding busy work, it just... kinda sucked?”

Katsuki chuckled, and Izuku’s smile twitched toward a smirk.

“So yeah, I tried a couple of other jobs, and nothing really worked, so I took the leap and started working for myself instead! Mom thinks it’s a weird choice. No stability, my income varies a lot, I don’t get sick leave, all that stuff parents worry about. But I sell prints of my work, sometimes stickers and shirts and things too, and I take a lot of commissions, and sometimes I manage to sell my paintings for a nice sum! So I have a diverse range of stuff going on, to keep me running. It’s hard work, but it’s a lot of fun, and that’s the important thing!”

“It sounds good,” Katsuki agreed. “You seem like you’re doing well.”

“I am! Do you, um, want to talk about how you’re doing?”

“You’ve clearly heard the rumours anyway,” Katsuki snorted.

“I’d like to hear it from you, though, instead of not knowing what’s true and what isn’t.”

Katsuki wasn’t ready to spill his guts yet, that much he knew. But Izuku was so warm, he felt like he could share a little even if he wasn’t ready to tell the whole story just yet.

“My job went to shit,” he answered vaguely. “So I’m back here living with my parents while I get my shit together, figure out what I’m gonna do next, and all that... shit.”

“There’s no shame in that,” Izuku said, so genuinely that it made Katsuki squirm. “We’re all expected to figure things out in high school and it baffles me, that’s way too young to decide what to study next, what to do for the rest of our lives. Your health is much more important, anyway.”

“I’ve been... Talking to someone. A, uh... Therapist.”

“Oh! That’s such good news! I hope it’s helping a lot, I’m so glad more people are taking care of themselves these days, not like when our parents were our age.”

“Mm. It’s pretty... Fine. It gets me out of the house occasionally, if nothing else. Otherwise I just watch a bunch of trashy TV with my dad.”

“Oh! Those awful reality shows?” Izuku giggled. “I never understood why you guys liked them, but you were always so delighted by them!”

“Don’t insult my trashy TV,” Katsuki chuckled, kicking him lightly under the table. “She says it’s a good start, but she wants me to find a hobby or some shit too, and that just feels like so much effort. All my hobbies have been sports and shit, I don’t have the energy for it.”

“You could try something creative?” Izuku suggested, eyes darting to his little living room studio. “I can set you up with some stuff to try, so you don’t have to invest in all the materials.”

“I’m shitty at art,” Katsuki grumbled, blushing faintly. “I can’t draw, let alone... All of this.”

“You don’t have to be good at something to do it, Kacchan! You do something because you like it, and over time, you get better! I bet your therapist would love it if you tried something creative, it’s so good for expressing yourself, and making sense of what you’re feeling! Sometimes I don’t even know what I’m thinking until I see what I make. Even just colours have different meanings, you know? Like, I use a bunch of yellow, because it reminds me of sunshine! It feels all happy and hopeful, and I want the people who see my art to feel that way too!”

He stood up as he spoke, abandoning his nearly-empty bowl in favour of pacing over to his collection, opening up a plastic crate full of materials of different kinds. As he rummaged through it, he babbled nonsense about different types of art, and Katsuki felt oddly nostalgic listening to it. Izuku hadn’t changed at all, since they were five years old and starting to truly discover the big wide world around them.

When he caught Katsuki’s eye again, Izuku waved him over insistently, and Katsuki found himself obeying.

A huge canvas stood against one wall, next to the cracked-open windows that let in a tiny breeze of fresh air, helping to dampen the smell of paint that Katsuki was sure would have been overwhelming otherwise. Izuku practically dragged him over to it, standing atop a huge plastic sheet that protected his wooden floors from any mishaps, and then he turned away again, picking up one particular box that he’d dug out of the thousands in his crate.

As Izuku opened it up, a thick cloud passed them by, freeing the sun from the captivity it’d been stuck in for most of the morning. The rays of light that came out shot straight through the panes of the window, landing on Izuku like they were made for him.

Izuku was an endless waterfall of colour, Katsuki couldn’t help but notice. Most people were rainbows, with a few neat strands of emotion and passion and personality, but Izuku was a thousand different shades that most people had never seen before in their lives. Thousands of tiny little slivers that came in between the colours everyone else wore, and a multitude of tones that most people couldn’t even fathom. But Katsuki saw them all, marvelled at the sheer variety, at all the ways they mixed and mingled together to make him so unique.

Izuku leaned over, offering Katsuki a little tray of bottles – making his choice easier, Katsuki knew. He had so many different tubes littering his desk, from pastels to neons to metallics, that Katsuki wouldn’t have even known where to start. So Izuku had chosen him just a few, had narrowed down the overwhelming selection into just a few simple colours.

Even so, he just stared at them for a minute, fingers curling awkwardly at his side.

“Just pick one,” Izuku suggested, setting them down on a little table. “You can always change it up later.”

“I don’t even know how to draw.”

“You don’t need to draw to paint,” Izuku assured him, beaming. “These bottles are the best, c’mere.”

He picked up a bottle of red for himself, popping off the little cap, and Katsuki watched with eyes like saucers as he just squeezed. A thin stream of paint came out, shooting at the massive canvas and splashing it with blood-red splatters, the excess staining the floor and Izuku’s arm alike as it lost power. Katsuki stared, but Izuku just laughed, adjusting his grip and squirting at it again, and again.

“Have a go?” he offered.

“I don’t want to waste your shit.”

“This is just my test canvas,” Izuku assured him. “It doesn’t need to be some kind of masterpiece, it’s just where I try out colours or techniques to see how they look! And I have plenty of paint, as you can see!”

“I’ll make a mess.”

“I already did, you may as well make one too!”

Sure enough, the canvas before them was stained with aimless, meandering patches of colour and pattern – no cohesive image to tie them together. But Katsuki felt like there was an invisible grid marked out, splitting it into little tiles for him to work in each time. At least, it had looked that way, until Izuku had sprayed it with a dribbling, soggy, blob of paint which spread between sections. His eyes still shone in delight over that splash, as he offered Katsuki the bottles again.

Tentatively, Katsuki accepted a bottle of dull, grey paint. He felt like it matched him the best, at least in that moment. He felt like the heavy clouds that had returned to linger beyond Izuku’s apartment windows; the deep, stormy grey that he’d expected Izuku to use as an excuse to back out, to not deal with Katsuki’s shitty attitude. Izuku deserved more. More than Katsuki had to offer.

“I like that one,” Izuku smiled, as Katsuki examined the bottle. “It makes the nicest shade for mountains and stones and even water!”

“Oh,” Katsuki mumbled. “I shouldn’t waste it, then.”

“It’s not a waste,” Izuku assured him. “I have heaps, and I can always get more if I need to! Just give it a try, see how much fun painting is!”

Obediently, Katsuki lifted the bottle, giving it a little squeeze and watching a pathetic trickle come out, splattering at his feet.

“It’s okay,” Izuku laughed, before Katsuki could choke his apology out. “That’s what the drop cloths are for!”

Katsuki huffed quietly, but he pointed the bottle again, squeezing a little harder this time and watching it hit the canvas. Half the paint bounced straight back off, hitting the floor again, but this time a big stain remained on the fabric, too. Izuku beamed at him for it, and Katsuki cracked a tiny smile of his own as he squeezed again, Izuku’s red tangling with his grey and melting its way down the fabric.

“Now you’re an artist,” Izuku grinned, slinging an arm around Katsuki’s shoulders in a moment of boldness. “Look out Kusama Yayoi, here comes Bakugou Kacchan!”

“You nerd,” Katsuki laughed, surprising himself with how bright it sounded, how carefree. “Teach me to do this shit for real.”

“I’d like nothing more.”

[Next Chapter]