Katsuki has been watching Eijirou style his hair in his usual bold fashion for a long time. It’s been years, and he’s stuck with it as his signature style. It seems to be the only thing that has stayed consistent from their day’s at U.A. Nothing else was the same, and Katsuki loved that.
It’s super manly bro! Eijirou would say when Katsuki mentioned it. Katsuki wouldn’t change a thing about it.
Two weeks ago Katsuki and Eijirou fell into their relationship entirely by accident. They had been living together for two years after graduation due to the agencies they were sidekicks at being near each other. It was convenient, especially since they spent three years living in the U.A. dorms together, so there weren't any real surprises. They each knew how the other lived.
At one point their friends had joked about them dating unofficially, and it triggered some thoughts in the both of them. When they really thought about it they were, kinda, dating unofficially based on the way they acted and treated each other. They both harbored feelings for each other, though they were oblivious to it at the time.
Of course it was Katsuki that said something first, ever the blunt one. “Are we dating?”
Eijirou blushed and sputtered for a moment before speaking, “Do you want to be?”
“Yes.”
“Then we are!”
“So are you gonna kiss me or what?!” Katsuki growled.
Eijirou smiled happily and jumped at the opportunity.
Even though Eijirou’s hairstyle had stayed the same, the length of his hair had not. He had grown it out to the point where it was just past chin length. It fits in updo’s just right. Not too long, and not too short. There were no strands falling out. It was the perfect length.
All Katsuki wanted to do was run his fingers through it. Were the bright red locks as damaged as he thought they would be? So much bleach, box dye, and hair gel can’t be good for it.
One night, as they were hanging out in the bedroom, background noise on the tv, Eijirou asked a question.
“Will you braid my hair?”
Katsuki’s whole world came to an end. He was transported to some of the only good parts of his childhood.
He was sitting on the floor in front of the sofa in the living room of his childhood home. His mother was sitting behind you, a brush in her hand. His hair had been dampened so it hung to his shoulders from the weight of the liquid. There were hair ties, a comb, and hairspray lined up on the table in front of him. Katsuki melted at the feeling of the brush soothingly scraping against his scalp.
He stayed perfectly still as his mother created the part and sectioned off the hair. He didn’t move once as his mother weaved her hands through the strands. He obediently handed her hair ties when needed and shielded his face when she sprayed the hairspray.
He would stare at himself in the mirror afterwards, amazed at the unruly blonde locks finally tamed and tied down.
He thought about another time and the roles were reversed.
Katsuki now sat on the sofa while his mom kneeled in front of him facing the table with the supplies neatly laid upon them.
This time he was the one spraying down his mothers hair. He was the one brushing through. He was the one parting and sectioning the hair, and weaving the strands between his fingers.
He couldn’t stop smiling, this time.
These experiences he kept with him forever, even after his mother fell ill and died. Even when his father fell into depression at the loss of her. Katsuki still braided his hair, and remembered his mother.
“Katsuki?” He heard Eijirou's voice, and was jolted firmly into the present.
“Go wet your hair and bring me my brush and comb.”
Eijirou beamed.
There was no sofa this time, or table with neatly arranged supplies. This time it was his shared bed, with the man he loves sitting before him and the supplies scattered across the quilt.
This time the hair he brushed through was bright red instead of pale blonde. When he ran his fingers through it, he knew that somehow Eijirou managed to keep his hair healthy despite the heaps of product it endures every day.
Katsuki parts the hair in front of him perfectly down the middle. He carefully brushes the hair he’s not ready to braid yet into a pony tail, then twists it into a neat bun, tucking in all the loose hairs and flyaways.
He takes the first section and splits it into three, and crosses them over each other in the start of the braid. Taking up a new strand with each movement. He weaves the hair together into a tight, neat pleat and ties it off on the end before starting on the next one.
Katsuki and Eijirou sit there and work in a completely comfortable silence, only broken to ask for a hair tie, or for Eijirou to tilt his head a certain way for easier access.
Eijirou was completely content. His eyes lulled shut as he basked in the feeling of fingers through his hair. He loved knowing that he was going to get to keep something that Katsuki worked hard on. Something he knew meant alot to his boyfriend.
Katsuki thinks about his mother, and he thinks about Eijirou. He thinks about how things may have gone if they had the chance to meet. Mitsuki Bakugou is a hard woman to get along with, but if anyone could have managed it, it would have been Eijirou Kirishima.
The silence continued as Katsuki quickly weaved together the strands of the second braid. He was efficient in his work, and not one hair was out of place.
Katsuki put his hand up to shield Eijirou’s eyes as he sprayed the hairspray, and then held up a mirror so that Eijirou could see how the braids looked.
Looking at the beam on his boyfriend’s face all Katsuki could think was, I think my mom would have liked you.
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