Photograph↲
Ed Sheeran

"And when it gets hard, you know it can get hard sometimes. It is the only thing that makes us feel alive . . ."

≡ 

[ Three Years and Six Months Ago ]

A yearning gasp fanned over the blond's bottom lip and into the air, his body quickly snapping up into a sitting position on his bed. Sweat coated his forehead as fear and confusion laved its way through his tongue and senses. The feeling more potent than ever while he aided in the calming of his erratic heartbeat. He had not known what he did; what he thought of; nor what he had said in a past life to deserve such a horrific nightmare . . . Yet here he was allowing his mind to conjure up such a ridiculous notion.

Ridiculous but explainable on his end.

Perhaps it was his underlining fear of losing the love of his young teenage life. Or perhaps, it was only a silly dream, nothing to be thought into too much. Either way, Katsuki could not help but feel the jittery gust of trepidation churn the insides of his stomach—twist the very essence of his soul and perception.

Katsuki had never felt such fear in his life. Nowhere near as close.

The type of sinking fear that plunges you into the depths of the unknown, letting those little worries and anxieties fester and grow. His pygmy worries had blossomed to life in the form of a cloudy haze known as a simple dream; a nightmare; a normal part of the REM cycle. He was trapped beneath the weight of such a thing with no escape plane.

That is until he felt the familiar touch of his love beside him, sleepily coaxing him back to bed with incoherent slurs.

"Kacchan," a fifteen-year-old Izuku groaned, "you're pulling up the covers. Lay down,"

The blond slipped him a wavering smile. "Sorry, nerd. C'mere,"

Izuku nestled happily in the crook of Katsuki's side, ignoring how the elder's shirt slid off his own shoulders—exposing the patch of dark freckles contrasting against the pale of his skin. He was too tired to care . . . but not too tired to notice the way Katsuki's breathing fluttered and shifted.

"What's wrong?" he drawled, eyes staying closed.

With a sigh and a sweep of his fingers through a head of curls, Katsuki replies. ". . . Nothing,"

"Ya' damn liar—" Izuku grinned, his voice groggy and sleep-filled. "—something's wrong. What is it?"

The red-eyed male hesitated, internally wincing when he thought back to the sea of hurt, confusion, and terror from his nightmare. He would not wish such a thing on his worst enemy. And that was saying a lot.

"I . . . had a dream . . ." he began slowly, slowly rubbing up and down the younger's back.

Izuku hummed, his arms locking tightly around his waist. "Was it about me naked? Cause if it was . . . I'll hit you," he jested, trying to lift the boy's spirits.

"Oh, I'm so scared," Katsuki scoffed, tapping Izuku on the nose.

The two chuckled softly, lying there in the implicit weight of their early-morning silence. Watching as one last gentle stroke of the moonlight flickered and faded into inexorable nothingness. Being replaced with the tell-tale promise of the sun's latest arrival. Said arrival prompting Katsuki to finally continue speaking—secretly hoping Izuku had fallen back asleep.

"It wasn't a good dream," he distinctly recalled the sharp blade of tears rolling down his cheeks in said dream. "I wasn't in a good place. You were . . . you were dead—but then you weren't! And I . . . fuck I don't know anymore. It was all over the place, but I do remember feeling so . . . empty,"

The side of Izuku's bed shuffled, seconds later the boy was sitting up lazily on the blond's lap. "I would never leave you," he said firmly, softly padding his thumb along Katsuki's cheekbone. "Ever."

Katsuki placed a hand atop of his, toying with the embroidered ring on Izuku's finger. "Promise?"

"Pinky promise,"

[ Present Time ]

It had only been a total of five seconds since their lips had touched. Five. Simple. Unwavering seconds of pure bliss.

For Izuku it felt like the first time, lips gliding against one another the way fingers would interlock in hand-holding. Sharp breaths exhaling and inhaling on the off chance that they pull away—only to come back and devour each other once more. He was high on the tase of Katsuki's lips. High on the jolts of excitement and yearning, he felt with each stroke and push. Izuku was just high on Katsuki period. The young boy never knew someone could be so good at kissing until now.

Yet for Katsuki the experience was much . . . more. For he was now being brought to life in the sharing of their mouths.

Fuck it had been so long—too fucking long since he'd felt the familiar, and now nostalgic, touch of Izuku's lips against his own. He forgot the way they both contrasted with one another, like the sun and moon colliding . . . thus creating the perfect contrast between incandescent heat and arctic cold. They were polar opposites, which was what brought them together in the first place.

An orchestra buzzed and thrummed against the walls of his heart. Pounding every memory the two ever shared to come bubbling up to the forefront of Katsuki's mind.

He kissed Izuku long and hard, wanting to prolong the feeling for as long as he could—committing the feeling to memory in case this was the last time. Because it just might be.

"Fuck," the word pushed past Katsuki's mouth in a breathy flutter against Izuku's skin, rippling them with goosebumps. ". . . Hi," he chuckled when he noticed the boy staring at his wide-eyed.

"Hi," Izuku whispered, running his tongue along his mottled bottom lip. "That was . . ."

"Intense?"

"Mind-boggling," the younger smirked, "pretty mind-boggling."

Katsuki tilted his head, making no effort to pull back. "That's a good thing?"

"That's an amazing thing," Izuku confirms, arms locking tightly around his neck. "But also a confusing thing . . . if that makes sense."

The elder allowed himself to rest back against the desk. "Wanna talk about what's troubling you, then?"

"No—" he shakes his head with a pout, pulling himself closer. "—I don't wanna ruin this right now. Please?"

The question he asks doesn't need to be expressed out loud as he angles his head upwards, lips barely brushing across Katsuki's. It doesn't take long for the two to begin kissing once more without any complaints on both ends.

Eventually, the duo did pull away. Whispering small goodnight's to one another before quietly slipping into their respective beds. However, on that particular night sleep had become a stranger to the two—for they were both giddy from their kiss.

The next morning, however, had been rather busy. So busy in fact that they had not taken the time to speak about the events that transpired the night before—yet it did not stop them from sharing secret glances at one another whenever they got the chance. Izuku had not known how much preparation had actually gone into hosting a celebrity, televised, event such as a gala. Ashido and Kaminari had dragged him through downtown Tokyo in search of something to wear, all while picking up a few things for themselves.

It was all still new for the freckled male, that fact was undeniable. Unknown people had been striding in and out the penthouse all morning, some speaking privately with Katsuki and others yelling directions on the phone. Through it, all Izuku had learned that this specific event had been under construction for the past few months—and his unexpected arrival had made things rather complicated for the people who had planned it.

Certain aspects had to be rearranged such as seating charts; food options; etc. There was no mistake that he felt bad about it, being the cause of so much trouble. No matter how many times Ashido tried to reassure him about it.

"What about this one?" the pink-haired woman held up a light gray waist-coat to Izuku's torso. "This'll go perfectly with the slacks we picked, what do you think, Kami?"

The blond, who was currently stuffing his mouth with a pastry, looked up. "Mmmhmp hmp," he gave a thumbs up along with his incoherent sentence.

"Well?" Ashido turned back to Izuku with a raised brow. "What do you think?"

"I think—" Izuku pushed the coat aside with a sigh. "—you two are spending way too much time and money on me. I can pay for this all myself, you know."

"We know," Kaminari smiled after swallowing his food. "we just . . . wanna help you out, dude."

Ashido nodded along with him. "Yeah, so quit your complaining. We're paying for your stuff and that's final," she jested.

"Yes, mom," Izuku teased, flicking Ashido's nose playfully. "You know I pity the poor souls who have to be your children someday . . . if you ever have them, of course."

"Yeah," Kaminari entered, "imagine how confused they'd be every day. You'd like . . . yell nice things at them, MiMi. I think you and Katsuki spend too much time together."

The pink-haired woman scoffed. "Sounds to me like Y'all just jealous of my fabulous future kids,"

It was an odd sense for Izuku, having people he hardly knew take such good care of him. Treating him with things he only ever imagined he'd have, speaking with him as if they were old-age friends. But then again—at times it certainly felt that way, it felt as if he had known them all his entire life.

"So," Ashido grinned, ignoring the constant lump in her throat that enlarged whenever she gazed at the freckled boy. "what's going on with you and my brother?"

Flushing red, Izuku shakes his head. "What're you talking about? He's my . . . boyfriend,"

Kaminari raised an eyebrow, a silent way to say you know exactly what we're talking about.

"We know you two are fake dating," she whispered, "But we also saw those looks you two were giving each other earlier. That wasn't for show,"

While Izuku mulled over how he would go about answering such a question, the two pop-stars stared at him with wide and anticipating eyes. Hoping for an answer they would most likely never receive. Hoping for his memories.

"We kissed last night," Izuku admitted, albeit he had no clue as to why he was admitting to two strangers. "like a real kiss."

A wide-eyed Ashido bounced on the tips of her toes. "Really?"

"Yeah—" subconsciously Izuku's fingers grazed his bottom lip, remembering the buzz of Katsuki's mouth folding into his. "—but we never got the chance to talk about it."

"Well, what's there to talk about?" Kaminari huffed, "Two completely hot guys go and make out with each other, so there has to be some kind of feelings there. Right?"

Pushing aside some clothes on the rack, Izuku pulls out a white button-down shirt. "I guess but . . . maybe it didn't mean anything to him like—like it does for me," he sighed.

Sure, the young male knew exactly what he was getting himself into when he agreed to pose as Katsuki's fake boyfriend for three months. He understood that it was all for show, a publicity stunt used in order to get more and more people excited with his upcoming album. No doubt, said album was accompanied by heartfelt love songs—and possibly a few breakups.

Hell, he even signed a contract!

But never in a million years did he expect to go tumbling down the uncharted seas of love and all that comes with it. What if the kiss they shared the previous night meant nothing to the blond? What if it was just some sick way of playing with his emotions like a puppet master did his creation? What was Izuku to do then?

For when it came to matters of the heart the intellectual male had not a clue as to what was expected of him. No guidebook came along with it, no instructions on how to conqueror it. He was utterly lost.

"Look," Ashido offered, "I know my brother better than I know myself, which sounds bad when I say that out loud but it's the truth. Just . . . talk to him, Zuki,"

Dismissing the foreign nickname aside, Izuku hones in on the woman's words. Rerunning each syllable over and over through the forefront of his mind with a sharpened edge added to them. Just talk to him. He nearly laughed at such foolery, for talking was a natural and habitual habit that a human did on a daily basis—whether it was verbal or nonverbal they all did so. But Izuku? Such a task never truly came easy.

Talking was never easy.

He froze as his mother's dainty yet calloused hands gripped the chipped plate, the burning flame of her grip rattling the dish violently. As Izuku locked in her eyes, he saw not a trace of a loving mother but a scorned woman.

Talking was never easy.

She yelled a slur of drunken curses at him, tossing whatever dish was in the cabinet and drawers. Not bothered by the shards of crystal fanning throughout the small kitchen.

All he did was talk to her.

The three inexorably stayed out the remainder of the night, shopping and dining at whatever stores and restaurants they could find. Taking the time to get to know one another, even though they technically knew each other already, and whatnot. As the hours passed by and the ocean sky had been superseded by a vast blanket of velvet black, Izuku found their company to be rather delightful and humorous. Ashido and Kaminari entertained him with stories of their youth, leaving out the bits where Izuku was in them.

"Oh, you should have seen the look on Hanta and Katsuki's face!" Kaminari cackled as they walked down the quiescent hallway. "I'm pretty sure they almost killed me that night, but it was worth it,"

"Yeah, Bakubabe hit him real hard in the head," she giggled before whispering in Izuku ear, "That's why Kami is so . . . you know,"

Izuku released a dimpled smile. ". . . Eccentric?"

"Well, I was going for dumbass—but that works too!" Ashido hummed.

The three stopped in front of the door to the penthouse, each of them unfettering a sigh. There was no doubt in all of their minds that they did not want to put an end to their fun—for Kaminari and Ashido were frightful that if they turned around or blinked Izuku would disappear. And Izuku . . . well he just fancied having company around.

Eventually, they said their goodbyes and parted ways, much to the singers' dismay as they rounded the corner. Leaving a febrile Izuku to shakily twist the doorknob open, welcoming the now comforting groan the hinges left in its wake as they stretched. He welcomed the blurry reflection of himself in the newly polished flooring, smiling at the scuffs Katsuki had already imprinted in them. Izuku had grown so accustomed to the prim and proper penthouse—he nearly forgot the hardships he endured with his mother back home.

Keyword: nearly.

"Is that you, Little Picasso?" a shout echoed from the dark hall where the stairs rested. "I was just about to call you guys. I was worried my dumbass brother and sister were about to kidnap you, not that I'd blame them—"

Katsuki's foot pressed against the bottom step, pausing to study the boy's flushed features. Cheeks plumped of the finest pink; lips enveloped by a sea of red—mottled from chewing on them; eyes showcasing a lake of emeralds. Fuck, he was perfect.

He was always perfect.

Inside and out.

Truth be told, the blond had barely been able to focus on the task at hand since Izuku had left this morning. No, he was far too occupied with the heavy memory of Izuku's lips.

Those damn lips, perfectly crafted to slide into his with such tenderness and care. Those damn lips managed to send small rays of sunlight igniting fiercely through Katsuki's body, mind, and soul. Those. Damn. Lips. He'd be lying if he said he had not thought of kissing Izuku throughout the three years of him being 'dead', and he finally got his wish.

And yet . . .

It was not the joy of the kiss itself that had his mind in a twisted spiral, it was the fact that there were no memories attached to it. So, after a full day of concentrating and mulling over what to do—he had come to one and only one conclusion:

He was going to tell Izuku everything.

"I know that look," Izuku sighed, tossing his bags on the counter. "trust me—I wanna talk to you about something too. Something really important,"

Katsuki heaved a sigh, carding his fingers through sweat-soaked hair. "Great, because I have been thinking about this shit all day and—and well . . ." he trailed off, an influx of air rapidly threading itself into his lungs.

"You look stressed," Izuku continued on, rubbing the elder's arm empathetically. "I am too. So, I was thinking can we maybe talk about everything—and I mean everything—after the gala?"

The blond nodded reluctantly as Izuku led him to the couch. "Right. Yeah, right,"

The two settled into silence. Fuck, they wanted to say so much at that moment . . . But they never did. They just say there, holding each other—and for a moment that was okay.

Until it wasn't . . .

—————❖—————

Inevitably, the two had somehow managed to fall asleep like that. Entangled in the other's arms, no doubt receiving a cramp from it; not that anyone was complaining when they were awakened by Katsuki's alarm. Thus bringing them to do their respective activities in order to get ready.

"So, how do these things usually work?" Izuku asked with a mouthful of toothpaste, his words coming out in a jumble of incoherency.

"Huh?"

"I said—" he spit into the sink, "—how do these things usually work?"

Katsuki stepped out of his room, fastening the last of his buttons before pulling on his jacket. "Well, you'll see all kinds of famous faces in the music industry. They usually ask a bunch of questions and act like they know you from the start," he explained with a sigh. "It's pretty fucking overwhelming."

Izuku wasn't sure what his face was doing, albeit it probably was not good, for Katsuki quickly backtracked and said. "But you'll be fine!"

"How do you know?" Izuku grumbled, trying his best not to stare at the blond.

The elder offered him a sly smile, throwing caution to the wind, and placed a warm hand beneath his jaw. "Well, you've been doing pretty good on national television for the past two months. I'd say you're pretty much a natural . . . aside from myself,"

Izuku rolled his eyes. "Oh, I'm so flattered. The great Katsuki Bakugou has humbled himself enough to offer me, of all people, a compliment. However shall I repay you?"

"Okay, smartass," he scoffed with a bright smile. "We should go, there's a car waiting for us outside."

With that the two were off and out the door, residing into the comforts of the promised car waiting idly outside the front of the apartment complex. While the gala itself did not begin for another few hours, it was required of them specifically to be there. Seeing as though Katsuki and his former bandmates are the guests of honor. The banquet hall was a large yet quaint building. A hive of reporters and paparazzi were loudly gallivanting about in the front, desperately trying to barge their way past security in hopes for the latest scoop.

Somehow naturally, Izuku did not dare bat an eyelash towards the sea of strangers. For he now found their presence to be not only habitual but . . . comforting. He had grown used to them by now.

And as the two slipped out of the car, the freckled male found himself intentionally fitting his hand right into Katsuki's. Although, after the events that transpired a few nights ago they both knew it was not for show. It was real.

And damn it, that felt amazing.

"Oh, great!" a high-pitched squeal echoed throughout the gold and polished walls. "You guys are here!"

Sprinting over towards the girl, Izuku wraps his arms around Ashido. "Told you that dress would look good," he whispered to her before pulling back.

"And I'm glad I listened to you and not Denki," Ashido nodded, twirling in the black satin dress that adorned her. "I just saw someone else here who was wearing the dress he picked out for me . . . Let's just say it doesn't look good on anyone,"

Katsuki beamed fondly at the two, finding the strength to ignore the cobwebs being sewn in the depths of his stomach as he observed the duo's interaction. Just another reminder that he was delaying the inevitable—that he would have to gather the courage and tell Izuku. Everything.

"Speaking of the idiot," he spared the room a quick once over, "Where is he?"

"Denki and the other dumbasses are in the dressing rooms getting ready," Ashido explained, turning to a perplexed Izuku. "We're putting on a show tonight. We're going to be playing some of our old songs from when we were all in a band,"

The younger released a mixture between a scoff and a squeak as he spun on his heel to face Katsuki. "You never told me this,"

"You never asked,"

The two stared at each other, dazzling emerald clashing with volcanic scarlet. God, there was so much to be said and yet . . . so little time had been bestowed upon them. Time: a luxury the two had not been blessed with. Every second was precious—both good and bad.

Something they would soon come to find out.

"My curls are falling," she fluffed the pink ringlets in her hands, using a nearby tray as a mirror. "Zuki, come with me to fix 'em?"

Defying his urge to roll his eyes, Izuku nodded with a bemused smile painting his lips. Two tiny pools appearing on either side of his cheeks as Ashido spun on her heel to lead the way. However, before following after her, the green-haired male grabbed the blond's jaw and tipped down. Capturing his lips into a soft and chaste kiss.

There it was again.

Izuku had given Katsuki such warmth, euphoric bliss, and everything that came with it; all in a simple touch of the lips. It may not have lasted long as they hoped for . . . but it was enough to suffice.

"I'll see you later," Izuku promised with a sigh.

"You better," Katsuki teased.

The dressing room was large, perhaps a bit too large for one person, yet Ashido seemed not to mind one bit. She hummed to herself as she dipped a makeup brush into a container of light pink powder, applying it lightly to her cheeks.

Yellow eyes snapped upward at the sound of the door, she wordlessly holds out her curling iron to the boy. "You do know how to curl hair, right?" she double-checked with a smirk.

"Don't worry—" he took the curler into his hands. "—I do this for my friend Uraraka all the time."

"'Uraraka?'" she mused to herself, "She sounds cute,"

Izuku chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he wrapped a lock of hair around the object. "Well, you'll get to see for yourself. She's coming here tonight,"

Subconsciously, Ashido hummed to herself once more. Her fingertips gliding along with a small wooden box, nails scathing lightly over the faux jewels secured in a few of the carvings. There was something so familiar about said box, something nostalgic in a sense.

"What's that?" Izuku gestured to the box with his nose.

Beaming upwards at him, Ashido takes the box into her hands. "It's just a good luck charm I guess. I have a bunch of things in here that I always keep with me before a big show or concert, you wanna look at them?"

"Yeah," Izuku set aside the curling iron, tentatively taking the box into his hands. "What's all in here?"

She waved her hands dismissively, trying to think back on what all she had put in there. "Just some jewelry my brothers gave me, a few notes my dad wrote me over the years . . . and some pictures," her eyes widened at her sudden revelation, spinning around in hopes to take the box back from him.

But it was too late.

He was frozen. Locked in a vortex of mystification and dubiety, for there had to be a possible explanation for what he was seeing. Right? Someone, somewhere, may or may not have the answers to the questions festering within the base of his essence.

Right?

The male swept his tongue across his bottom lip, palms slick with perspiration and eyes laved with unshed tears. What the hell was he looking at? A sick joke perhaps, a prank which had not yet been set into motion--seeing as though he walked in at an unexpected time. Right?

He remained frozen when the audible click of the doorknob twisting resonated in the air. He remained frozen when a pair of tentative footfalls brushed and squeaked across the hardwood flooring. He remained fucking silent when a soft hand pressed deftly against his shoulder.

And most importantly, he remained silent when he heard a familiar voice say. ". . . Can we talk?" 

HELLO CRICKET CULTISTS!!

THIS IS OFFICIALLY THE LONGEST CHAPTER NOW!

WORD COUNT: 4,190

DAAAAAAMN! CAN I GET A HELL YEAH? (or you know a congrats if you're not comfortable with curse words :)

Anywho, sorry this took so long. But what did we think? Everything is tying in now and I'm excited!

Theories?

Comments?

Remember it gets worse before it gets better ;)

Until we meet again!!!