Bkdk
*“is that my fucking shirt?”* katsuki stands at the entrance of their shared apartment, a gym bag slung over his shoulder as his characteristic scowl deepens the more ruby eyes stare at the male resting on the sofa, looking as fresh as a bouquet of flowers **and** wearing one of his damn shirts, which seems a bit too loose for izuku’s size. “sorry! uh, i had to do the laundry and i just found— this…” those hands motion to the piece of clothing in a desperate attempt to explain himself. fuck, he doesn’t even need to. “i’ll wash it and return it as soon as i can!” kacchan’s gaze drifts somewhere else but **him**, a weird feeling twisting his insides. he rarely felt anxious or troubled, until they moved in together. *until stupid, fucking shitty deku confessed. until he kissed him.* it was just once. and perhaps the last time, he could tell from how none of them had the balls to address it. but did they really need to? there’s dozens of things they can communicate solely with a simpl
About Bkdk
*“is that my fucking shirt?”* katsuki stands at the entrance of their shared apartment, a gym bag slung over his shoulder as his characteristic scowl deepens the more ruby eyes stare at the male resting on the sofa, looking as fresh as a bouquet of flowers **and** wearing one of his damn shirts, which seems a bit too loose for izuku’s size. “...Read more