A label for high empathy ghosts, ghosts who are highly empathetic, individuals who connect one's ghosthood with high empathy or connecting one's high empathy to being like a ghost.
[ID: a lace divider in a brownish pink hue.]
[PT: emspiri [EMP-SPIR-EE]. END PT]
[ID: A 5 striped horizontal flag, from top to bottom the colours are pale plum, dark pink, dark wheat, dark pink and pale plum. In the center of the flag is a ghost coloured off-white yellow in the middle with two giant red hearts behind it, all outlined in a dark reddish brown. END ID]
[ID: a lace divider in a brownish pink hue.]
[ID: an image of "DS" Sonic with text to the right stating " BASIC DNI- radqueers, anti-goodfaith,ableists,racists,t.r.a.s.h,proship, etc ya know the basics" in italics. END ID]
Izuku drags his mottled knuckles over his face, moving his eyes away from Katsuki.
It’s been a long week, and he’s tired.
“I can’t do this right now.” He sighs miserably, leaning back on the cracked faux-leather couch.
Kacchan doesn’t grace him with a response, the bastard. He remains stubbornly quiet as he has for the last ten minutes.
Izuku knew he was in for a long evening when he came home from patrol to those red eyes staring judgmentally at him from the living room.
He doesn’t visit unprovoked, and Izuku knows exactly why he’s here. He hasn’t been home in three days, opting to sleep in short bursts on the floor of his office, surrounded by paperwork and patrol reports.
“I’ll sleep, okay?” He scowls, “Leave me alone.”
Red eyes narrow as if to say, “Not good enough.”
And maybe he’s not sure when the last time he changed out of his uniform or ingested anything but coffee was.
Izuku sighs, “I’ll eat and shower, too."
Kacchan leans back in the chair he’s claimed and crosses one foot over his knee, seemingly placated.
He knows Kacchan will only fully leave him alone if he actually does what he says, though. Something that has taken a lot of trial and error to figure out.
And many, many sleepless nights.
Izuku stands and heads to the hallway to grab a clean towel, waving it around to say, “See, I’m doing it!”
It’s a little unnerving, the way he just watches and waits for Izuku to take care of himself. Kacchan has always been determined, he supposes, and if his goal is to get Izuku into the shower and clean clothes, then he’s going to see it through.
Hell, the first time Kacchan showed up, Izuku walked right out of the door and didn’t come back for three days. But no matter how hard he tried to ignore him, those red eyes were waiting when he walked through the front door.
Eventually, he just learned to deal with it. There may be some crazy quirks out there, but none of the forums Izuku has searched held answers to why his best-friend-turned-rival-turned-whatever-this-is had randomly started showing up in his apartment when he was at his lowest.
Like some sort of freaky Deku magnet.
By the time he gets out of the shower, Katsuki has gone.
The ache in his chest from his frustrating inability to stay has long since subsided, instead replaced by a sort of annoyed fondness only Kacchan could make him feel.
He ruffles the towel through his dripping hair, feeling refreshed. He digs through his pantry to find something light to eat, settling on some microwave yakisoba.
By the time he comes back to settle on the couch, he’s feeling much less tense. The stress from the week is evaporating from him like the shower’s steam.
He glances to the corner, where the shrine portrait glares down at him.
“Kacchan should be glad I’m eating at all,” Izuku smirks, grabbing some noodles in his chopsticks and holding them up tauntingly.
The unlit incense resting in its holder by Katsuki’s mask flickers; he’s displeased.
Izuku chuckles, peering outside at the gathering storm clouds.
“I’ll come visit you tomorrow and bring an umbrella, to return the favor. I know you hate the rain.”
He looks back in time to see the incense light fully, soft smoke feathering up into the air. Content, he watches it for a moment, entranced by the silky gray trail floating into the air.
Finally, it snuffs out, leaving only a faintly glowing ember on the tip.
Draco has been taking his casual relationship with Harry for granted. Visits from four key ghosts the night before Christmas just might shake up his priorities in life.
