12 Days of Christmas Day Four- 'Will You be Home for Christmas?' (Bakugo)
The apartment always felt different in winter. The city outside dulled beneath a blanket of snow, lights blurring into soft halos against the windows. Inside, everything was quieter, slower, like the world itself was holding its breath. You’d tried to lean into it this year, a small tree in the corner. A string of warm lights hung over the window. A wreath on the door that Katsuki had pretended not to notice, even though you caught him adjusting it once when he thought you weren’t looking.
It was nearly one in the morning when the lock finally turned. You looked up from the couch as the door opened, Katsuki stepping inside with his helmet under his arm and his hero coat dusted in ash and snow. His shoulders were tight, his jaw set in that familiar way that meant the night had been long and ugly.
“You’re back late,” you said softly.
“Told you,” he muttered, toeing off his boots. “Extra patrol.”
He didn’t look at the tree. Didn’t look at the lights. He headed straight for the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water, drinking like he hadn’t all night. You watched him, heart heavy with the question you’d been holding onto all week.
“Katsuki,” you said carefully. “Can I ask you something?”
He glanced over, red eyes tired but alert. “Depends.”
You smiled faintly despite yourself. “Will you be home for Christmas?” The effect was immediate. He went still, hand tightening around the glass. For a moment, you thought he might deflect; crack a joke, snap at you, change the subject. Instead, he set the glass down with a soft clink and turned fully toward you.
“No,” he said flatly. The word landed harder than you expected.
“I’ve got a shift,” he continued, voice clipped like he was reading off a report. “Early deployment. High-risk coverage. I’ll be gone before sunrise.”
You nodded slowly, hands folding together in your lap. “Okay.”
“That’s it,” you replied quietly.
He scoffed. “Don’t give me that.”
“That calm crap. You’re disappointed. Say it.”
You met his gaze. “I am,” you admitted. “But I also know your job. I just wanted to know so I wouldn’t plan for something that wasn’t going to happen.”
His jaw tightened. “Christmas is just another day.” The words hurt more than you expected.
“For you,” you said softly. “Not for me.”
Something flickered in his eyes, guilt, maybe, but it was gone just as fast. “I’m not missin’ work for a holiday,” he said, voice hardening like armor snapping into place. You stood, pushing yourself off the couch.
“I didn’t ask you to.” You walked past him, heading toward the bedroom, before your face could give you away. He didn’t stop you.
Christmas Eve passed quietly. You wrapped the gifts you’d bought him, things you weren’t even sure you’d get to give, then slid them beneath the tree. You cooked dinner for one, ate half of it, and packed the rest away. The apartment felt too big without him filling it with noise and warmth. He came in late, as expected. You pretended to be asleep. You thought him pause beside the bed, heard the soft rustle of his jacket being set down. His hand hovered near your shoulder for a second, close enough that you could almost feel the heat of it, but he pulled away.
The bed dipped when he lay down, back turned toward you. Neither of you slept much. Christmas morning came gray and quiet. You woke to the sound of movement: zippers, muted footsteps, the careful clink of gear. Katsuki moved like he didn’t want to wake you, like he already felt bad enough. You stared at the ceiling, heart aching, until his voice broke the silence.
You turned your head. “Yeah.” He stood in the doorway in his hero pants and undershirt, duffel bag slung over one shoulder. His expression was guarded, like he was bracing for impact.
“I’ll be back tonight,” he said.
“Merry Christmas,” you replied softly. His jaw clenched.
“Yeah.” He turned away. The door opened. Then closed, and then it opened again. Footsteps crossed the apartment, heavier this time. The duffel bag hit the floor with a dull thud.
“Katsuki?” you called, sitting up. He stood in the doorway again, hands fisted at his sides, breathing sharp. His eyes were bright, not angry. Something softer but harder at the same time. It was hard to describe- you haven’t seen this look before.
“I can’t do this,” he said.
Your heart stuttered. “Do what?”
“Leave.” He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing once before stopping. “I stood out there, tellin’ myself it didn’t matter. That you’d be fine. That this job always comes first.” He looked at you then, really looked at you.
“And all I could think about was you sittin’ here alone, pretendin’ you don’t care because you don’t wanna make me feel like shit.” Your throat tightened. “I said Christmas was just another day,” he continued, voice rough. “That was a lie. It’s just easier to pretend I don’t want things.” He crossed the room in a few strides and knelt in front of the bed, hands gripping the mattress like he needed something solid to hold onto. “I don’t wanna be the guy who always leaves,” he said quietly. “Not with you.”
“I’ll deal with the consequences,” he interrupted. “I’ll make it up. I always do. But I’m not walkin’ out that door today.” He took a shaky breath. “I’m stayin’. I’m home. For Christmas.” Tears burned your eyes as you reached for him, pulling him into your arms. He wrapped around you instantly, forehead pressing into your shoulder, grip tight and desperate.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “For makin’ you feel like you come second.”
You held him, fingers threading through his hair. “I just wanted you here.”
“Yeah,” he whispered. “Me too.” Outside, the snow kept falling, soft and steady, but this time, Katsuki stayed, knowing that there was something more important than just being a hero; a partner.
