Behind the register
The boredom that seemed to linger in the small studio in central Tokyo was intense. Katsuki was clearly bored out of his mind on this far-too-quiet Saturday.
Lying on the old two-seater couch in the “living area,” he spilled over both ends. His feet almost pathetically scraped the air, tapping to the rhythm of the ticking hands that seemed to weigh down the atmosphere, as he stared blankly—head tilted back—at the alarm clock sitting on the bedside table that also doubled as a coffee table.
Everything here was ridiculously small. Tiny, even—but far too clean. Yes, even though he only rented a damn microscopic-looking apartment, obviously cluttered due to lack of space, everything was nonetheless perfectly organized and spotless, meticulously aligned so that nothing stuck out. He even took pride in it, having a rather particular idea of cleanliness that often drew mockery from his friends.
But he didn’t care. He was obsessive, so what? In this tiny, lively studio, organization was almost mandatory anyway.
From his couch, he tilted his head back further, looking at his neatly made bed tucked into a corner against the wall and the bookshelf, above which sat the TV and all his school manuals, carefully sorted in alphabetical order. Facing the couch was a table—an old two-seater with worn formica, proof he’d picked it up after it had already lived a long, hard life. And finally, there was the kitchenette, minuscule, where every bit of free space had been cleverly designed for efficient use. It was his home—small as it was—and it suited the architecture student he was perfectly.
It wasn’t the best layout, he knew that. It gave off a slight sense of clutter that had always bothered him a bit, especially since he’d had to resign himself to installing that damn couch, tired of seeing his friends dare to sit on HIS bed when they dropped by. At least now they could avoid his bedding—the only piece of furniture he had actually paid for himself, incidentally.
But despite that sense of disorder, he liked being at home. He was a homebody—that was a fact. He hated disrupting his routine for some spontaneous night out; on the contrary, he needed everything to be carefully planned, fitting neatly into the little boxes he had set aside for it—like everything else in his life. People might find him strange, but it suited him. And the discipline he had always imposed on himself had brought him to where he was today.
A guy nearly twenty-four, whose future seemed clearly laid out, humming along to the sweet music of victory.
The boredom he felt that day wasn’t negative. Quite the opposite—it proved his success. If time felt long, it was precisely because he had nothing urgent to do. He had perfectly organized his schedule for assignments and school projects—most of them even ahead of time—or for the almost militaristic upkeep of his living space.
So yes, he was slouched there without much conviction, but soothed by the feeling of having options. He could spend his afternoon doing whatever he wanted. It was a luxury his friends didn’t have, so often caught off guard by some unfortunate oversight, panicking over deadlines, while he could perfectly well zone out in front of his console if he felt like it...
Still, his gaze shifted to his laptop on the table that doubled as a desk when needed, and he considered distracting himself with it. He loved drawing plans—a rather strange passion that had, of course, led him to choose this career. And what he loved most was opening his modeling software to a blank page, allowing himself to go wild with a project entirely born from his imagination.
Those projects might never see the light of day—that didn’t matter. He just enjoyed creating something neat, well-designed, and functional, just to satisfy himself. In any case, mastering his software—which could make a novice dizzy—would only improve with practice. And with the end of his studies approaching, he had a very particular, likely personal plan in mind that had been lingering in his thoughts.
A house of his own.
A beautiful dream he would no doubt achieve one day. In the meantime, what was wrong with imagining a plan, even if it was pointless?
Outside, the weather seemed mild. From the top floor of a small five-story building, he could tell through the single skylight that let in a soft beam of light—typical of early spring, still a bit shy after winter. And even though he had no intention of sticking his nose outside, there was one thing he did every Saturday.
A quick trip to the neighborhood konbini might not be among the most enjoyable activities for most Japanese people, but he loved it. It added a bit of movement to an otherwise somewhat solitary day—just enough to suit him—and there were his little habits. The store wasn’t far, just a six-minute walk, and like any respectable 7-Eleven, it had everything! Especially a certain cashier with an incredible ass...
A quiet chuckle escaped his lips, suddenly motivating him to get up and put on his coat. He made sure he had his reusable shopping bag and wallet before heading out, letting the door slam behind him to lock it properly.
The worn wooden floor of the hallway creaked under his steps, probably alerting his downstairs neighbors to his outing, as he walked down the dark corridor leading straight to the stairs. There was only one apartment on that floor, and nothing above—saving him from overhead noise, which was exactly why he had chosen this place. There wasn’t even an elevator, forcing him into a bit of daily exercise, and the price had always seemed outrageous, even for downtown. But he didn’t care—he was finishing his final year and had managed things well enough to secure several promising opportunities.
This was his victory...
And that very thought made him smirk as he stepped out into the street, almost like he owned the place.
He liked the neighborhood, almost sad to leave it soon, but he never looked back—that wasn’t about to start today. Still, perhaps more than usual, he let his gaze wander here and there, recalling everything he had experienced over the past five years. The time his mother came to visit, wearing the mildly disapproving expression typical of any mother... and even the time he stupidly tripped in the middle of the street while crossing...
The street kept no memory of him, and his absence wouldn’t be felt, but he would remember everything—even if it was insignificant... And finally, the familiar neighborhood store came into view, the one he frequented and loved so much. The aisles never changed, letting him choose without searching or asking for help.
Except for the art student who worked there—and whom he genuinely loved to tease. He had made a habit of coming during his shifts just to see him, enjoying this little weekend rendezvous. Honestly, he might even go there just for him—for those round cheeks that enhanced his dreamy look. He was a guy the same age, attending the same university but in a different program. He was probably his complete opposite, with mismatched clothes and messy green hair. And while that should have annoyed Katsuki, pushed him away even, he was instead completely charmed by that angelic face.
He took great pleasure in teasing him at work, burning him with an inviting gaze every time, watching his freckled cheeks flush as his large green eyes struggled to pull away from Katsuki’s ruby irises. He knew the effect he had on the young cashier. Truth be told, he would probably devour him right there at the register, not caring about the security cameras or the overly curious boss constantly watching his employee. The boy inspired many things in him... things he had no control over. But Katsuki had stopped caring, allowing himself this indulgence, growing impatient for these visits just to see him...
And he smiled openly when he heard a tired “Irasshaimase” as soon as he walked in. He automatically turned toward the register. He knew the other student hadn’t noticed him yet, and he already relished the moment when his pupils would contract, replacing that dull weariness with a shiver running down his spine. And sure enough—as soon as the employee noticed him, and no one else, his expression became anything but bored. Quite the opposite, in fact. Katsuki flashed him a proud smile, letting his red irises blaze with a lust the employee couldn’t miss. He felt powerful seeing the reaction, the way the boy bit his lip so indecently, perfectly responsive to their little game. Nothing was calculated or planned—the green-haired boy didn’t react that way because it was expected of him. He simply let himself go, unconsciously embracing his own desires.
And yet, even if he seemed so easy to read, there was one thing he had understood about Izuku Midoriya: he possessed an uncontrollable shyness, and Katsuki liked to think that modesty itself took inspiration from him. That made it all the more amusing—to watch him struggle against his own will, softening under the attention of his regular customer.
And it probably meant he had to keep things fresh, constantly finding new ways to make him run his fingers through that dark green hair, admiring the multitude of shades that could almost be painted into each strand—despite the terrible lighting that did him no justice.
Izuku was life itself. Too colorful, too surprising, completely transforming that dreary place with a single smile. While the harsh lighting could have drowned the store in something almost oppressive, Izuku’s mere presence behind the register—even when he yawned from boredom—filled the space with a million fascinating hues, enough to make the future architect surrender. He was like a hand-drawn fantasy, sketched in a rush. A blurred perfection dotted with countless freckles that Katsuki would have gladly connected, just to write his own name across them.
He held back a laugh when he saw him avoid his gaze, perfectly aware—after years of barely veiled innuendo—of what the blond had in mind. And even though the green-haired boy knew he wouldn’t be able to escape him, he still tried to keep himself together, knowing Katsuki wouldn’t let it go...
So the almost-architect chuckled at his idea, suddenly forming as he watched him fidget with his sleeves between customers, tugging at them to awkwardly hide his hands. He knew exactly how he would go about it, delighted by his own genius—which needed no further proof.
He took his time shopping, settling on a curry he would spice up to his liking, then wandered into a more unusual aisle without the slightest embarrassment.
After all, his greatest flaw was probably his pride—something he never tried to hide, often irritating those around him, yet just as often serving him well. He was ashamed of nothing. So slipping, in full view, a magazine almost innocently titled “Les Séquoias”—which, judging by the completely naked man on the cover, clearly had nothing to do with trees—into his basket didn’t bother him in the slightest. People could stare all they wanted; it was the least of his concerns. What he wanted to see was the reaction of his sexy little cashier.
So he approached with a smile, his prey busy ringing up a cheerful old lady and her cat food. Another man stood ahead of him, roughly his age, but Katsuki paid him no attention, waiting his turn calmly. A low, almost inaudible growl of satisfaction escaped him when those green irises finally gave in and met his gaze.
And when it was finally his turn, he couldn’t care less about the man behind him or whether he was in a hurry. With his naturally intimidating expression, people rarely bothered him anyway.
He began unloading his items with exaggerated slowness, his eyes frequently drifting back to that mouth he longed to claim.
First, the curry ingredients. Ordinary.
Then, two bottles of shochu. Normal.
And finally, the magazine—placing the naked man in plain view.
He fixed the man behind the counter with a predatory look, smiling shamelessly, his slightly pronounced canines accentuating a hunter’s expression—while the art student was clearly the prey.
And it worked.
Poor Izuku scanned the items with his eyes down, muttering under his breath, stubbornly focused on his task.
But Katsuki was patient. He knew that once he gave him that exaggerated wink, the boy wouldn’t be able to help reacting. He’d bet his shirt on it. So he waited, almost amused by the sharp beeps of the register.
A chubby man suddenly stepped out from the back office, pretending to check something behind the counter, though he wasn’t even reading the label in his hand—clearly keeping an eye on his employee. This little game had gone on so long that the store manager often came out to ensure everything stayed “normal,” ready to intervene at the slightest misstep.
It annoyed Katsuki somewhat, but it made things even more awkward for Izuku—which he could easily use to his advantage. So he ignored the insignificant man and focused entirely on his living fantasy.
And when the cashier reached the magazine, their eyes finally met—emerald filled with questions, lips pressed tight to hold them back. But Katsuki wasn’t done with him yet.
“Could I get cherry-flavored lubricant? And a box of condoms, please. The large size...”
The expression that instantly crossed Izuku’s face nearly made him laugh out loud. His amusement only grew as the boy took far too long to turn around and grab the items, clearly holding back a sigh while scanning them—barely restraining the word “show-off” that was practically written across his forehead. Still, he kept going, trying once more not to react to the blatant provocation...
“Thank you,”the blond continued, letting a heavy silence settle as he packed his things, mentally polishing his final blow.“I hope I’ll have an interesting evening...”
The stunned look the cashier gave him was priceless. A deep red spread across his skin, from chin to hairline, highlighting every freckle and making him look even more adorably flustered.
God, there was no denying it—he liked this guy way too much...
A disapproving cough cut through the air, making Izuku jump as he finished the transaction, asking for 5,100 yen while trying to steady his voice, his lips nervously bitten.
Katsuki paid without contact, pushing aside the image of that mouth on his body, grabbed his things, and left without adding anything more. After all, he didn’t want the employee getting into trouble—that wasn’t the goal. And clearly, the boy’s boss wasn’t patient.
He stepped outside, feeling a hint of nostalgia.
It was almost over. His studies were ending, and he would soon move elsewhere, closer to his future job. Real life was opening its arms to him, and moments like these—outside of time, flirting with that charming cashier—would disappear. Their long-standing game of cat and mouse would end abruptly after five years.
But what could he do? His life, carefully mapped out, awaited him. There was no point dwelling on such feelings. He would move forward—even if he would truly miss the sight of those cheeks turning red under his gaze...
He would think about Izuku—the little cashier—for a long time.
True to himself, Katsuki moved on, returning to his tiny, perfectly organized space, already sketching his next idea in his mind. He spent the afternoon working, a soft electro playlist in the background, imagining a beautiful family home with wide façades—his future home.
It was only when his striking red eyes narrowed from fatigue that he realized it was time to cook, already anticipating a good curry that soon filled the apartment with its aroma. The playlist had stopped long ago, though he only noticed it now—when boredom crept back in, alone in the small space he loved so much.
But then, as night fully settled and the apartment fell into an almost unsettling darkness, he froze at the sound of his front door slowly opening, creaking loudly.
“Kacchan!”
His adorable green-haired fantasy rushed inside without even taking off his shoes, wearing a mix of mischief and anger. The overly tidy space suddenly burst with vibrant color, as if life itself had spilled across every surface. That warm emerald presence—so full of facets—burned away the boredom that had lingered all day.
Katsuki’s life had always been too planned, too predictable. He loved order, loved control. But without that splash of color—his childhood friend—it would have been unbearably dull.
“In front of the manager, too... I told you to stop doing that!”
He stepped closer, ignoring the shoes still on the floor despite how much it irritated him, and pulled him in, capturing his lips in a kiss intense enough to strip him bare on the spot. He eventually pulled back, taking a moment to savor the shifting shades in those jade eyes.
“One more month, and we’re leaving,”he justified.
“That’s not the point! Kacchan, I—”
“He should’ve kept his apron on, my dessert...”
Once again, his words were cut off by a far too tempting mouth, making him forget all the embarrassment of the afternoon with a single motion, soon convincing him to follow onto the bed they had shared for years...
Between them, this had always been “normal.” They had been inseparable since childhood, and their parents had never really seen it any other way, fully aware that the bond between their sons was something special. So when, after high school, they announced they would attend the same university complex to pursue their dreams without separating, neither family tried to stop them.
They came from different backgrounds. Katsuki was lucky—his parents were well-off and helped him financially alongside his scholarship, unlike Izuku, who had been raised by his single mother. When they found that tiny apartment, it was perfect. The rent was high for such a small place, but it allowed Izuku to share expenses, relying on his hard-earned scholarship. His job at the konbini helped him buy the art supplies he wanted, always aiming for the best quality.
He knew he had chosen a difficult path, that succeeding would be hard. But he also knew he could count on Katsuki. He had always been his pillar. And one thing inspired him deeply—the idea of bringing color to the wide façades Katsuki would design, signing them with “Deku,” the nickname the blond had always given him.
They were perfectly balanced. Izuku, dreamy and radiant; Katsuki, stable and grounded—each completing the other.
A perfect union that chased away the dull darkness of boredom.
