Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izuku has been… off, ever since the war.

Katsuki doesn’t blame him. He gets it. He’s screwed up, too, and so are most of their classmates—it’s hard not to be after doing what they did, seeing what they’ve seen.

But still, it’s been… weird to see Izuku unable to smile. He looks haunted in the same way that he did when he was being a dick and avoiding U.A., trying to do everything on his own.

In between classes, Katsuki can’t help but watch him. He sees Shouto reassure him; Uraraka does the same. They mess with him about his hair, but that grimness in Izuku’s eyes, it never stops. It’s fundamentally wrong, and Katsuki hates that he doesn’t know what to do about it.

Katsuki wants to yell at him, or fight him, anything to wipe that stupid look off his face, but he has to “take it easy”, or he’ll end up right fucking back in that damn hospital bed. He’s had enough of bland hospital food and the stinging smell of disinfectant for one lifetime.

And he doesn’t want to be away from his class while they’re all healing. He just doesn’t.

At the end of homeroom, Aizawa announces, “After classes end today, I expect all of you in the common room of Heights Alliance for 2-A. Someone has a surprise for you.”

Lots of gasps ignite—it feels similar to how it was before, how everyone would get excited for small school things. Aizawa leaves the room before the students can begin a tirade of questions.

“I wonder what it could be!”

“A surprise! How fun!”

“Shinso, do you know what it is?”

“No idea.”

It’s all a bunch of background chatter to him. There’s one voice very noticeably absent.

Katsuki turns around.

Izuku looks distracted. Out-of-it. The way he’s looking at the excited bunch in the front of the room makes it seem like he doesn’t even really see them there.

“What do you think?”

“Huh?” Izuku blinks, and jolts a bit as if Katsuki surprised him. Hell, maybe he had. Katsuki never would’ve been the one reaching out before. But, well… things change. And if that haunted look doesn’t get the fuck off Izuku’s face soon, Katsuki feels like the floor will fall out from underneath him.

“What’s the surprise or whatever?”

“Oh! I don’t know. There was one time it was a visit from the Pussycats, so maybe something like that?”

Katsuki nods, but doesn’t turn around quite yet. There’s a pinch to Izuku’s eyebrows that just hasn’t gone away and it’s driving Katsuki crazy. But if he asks about it, he’s sure Izuku will just plaster on a fake smile and say “I’m fine” in a way that is actually super not fine.

Bullshit.

He doesn’t get the chance to do anything else about it right then, though, because Present Mic comes in to start first period.

All the students walk back to the dorms together after the final bell, several of them still theorizing what the surprise could be. Katsuki falls into a group a bit behind the one in the front (the one where Izuku is), so he sees every time someone tries to talk to him, and the way Izuku turns to them slowly—still not quite right. Like reacting and responding to his friends is an afterthought.

If Izuku won’t reach out for help, something or someone needs to snap him out of it.

When they get back to the dorms, the lights are off. All the students are murmuring, but then the lights flicker on, and Present Mic announces, “Hello, listeners of class 2-A! You better get ready to rock! Welcome to Eri’s first ever concert!”

Lots of excited gasps come from the students, and Katsuki looks to Izuku to see if anything’s changed. His mouth is half-open, like the excitement caught him off guard, but the weight on his shoulders seems to have lifted at least a little bit.

Lemillion is here, too.  He’s holding a little makeshift curtain (a blanket) and then drops it to reveal the little girl behind it, who has a microphone in her hand and a small, shy smile on her lips.

Everyone watches with rapt attention as she takes a breath, and Present Mic starts music on his phone, and she starts singing.

“Hero, too, I am a hero too~!”

Katsuki’s never been the best with little brats, but Eri isn’t really a brat. She’s easy enough to be around, the few times he had been with her before the war. And now, there’s something really fucking adorable about her finding her confidence singing her little pipsqueak soul out.

She sings through the chorus, and there’s one time where she forgets a word and Jiro, who has tears in her eyes, gently reminds her of it, and then that little girl puts her whole heart and soul into finishing the song.

When she does, everyone erupts into cheers, and at least half of the class is crying.

As Katsuki expected, Izuku is one of them. It makes Katsuki inwardly sigh in relief. At least Izuku’s not holding every emotion in.

Eri’s smile is beaming as everyone praises her, and she jumps down from her “stage” (the couch) and runs to Izuku, who crouches down when she approaches him. Katsuki watches from just a few feet away.

“What did you think, Deku?” She asks, holding onto one of Izuku’s hands.

(Fuck off, Katsuki is not jealous that someone can make it look so easy.)

“I loved it,” Izuku says though his tears. But then his eyes wander up to her forehead, and his breaths turn into hiccups. He holds his hand up as if he’s going to touch it, but he doesn’t actually connect, instead apologizing in a devastated voice, “Eri, I’m so sorry about your horn.”

Eri looks confused for a moment, like she’s not sure why he’s apologizing or bringing it up. But this is the first time Izuku’s seen her since the war, so it’s no wonder his hero-slash-guilt complex jumped out a seeing the damage up close. At least, it’s no wonder to Katsuki.

Eri never loses her smile, though. “Did it help you?”

“Yes!” Izuku sniffs, using his free hand to bring his sleeve up and wipe his tears. He makes sure that Eri knows it, too, adding, “Your horn saved my life. You are my hero.”

She smiles and pats his uninjured cheek, helping wipe away his tears. “Then it’s all okay, Deku! I’m happy I got to help you.”

Precious fucking thing. Goddamn it.

Izuku chokes on some more tears, but there’s a genuine smile and laugh that break through, too. It’s a real expression on his face, the first one since the hospital, if Katsuki cared enough to keep track. (He has been. Keeping track, that is.)

Meanwhile, Eri turns her focus to him.

“Kacchan, what did you think of my concert?”

Katsuki smirks, and bends down so he’s close enough to her.

“You killed it, rockstar,” he says, raising his hand for a fist bump. She connects her fist to his, and they both do this dumb “boom!” noise along with it. Something they came up with once while she was hanging around the dorms, imitating him.

Yeah, she’s kind of the coolest fucking kid on the planet.

It also seems to get Izuku’s attention.

“You guys have your own handshake?”

“Yeah!” Eri beams, taking his hand again, “I’ll teach you, Deku!”

They do the fist bump and then the stupid boom noise, which feels a bit too close to the stupid “boom” that goes off in Katsuki’s heart at the sight of it.

Calm the fuck down, he tells himself.

“Now you and Kacchan!” Eri says, so it’s their turn.

It feels dumb and goofy for two almost-adults, but it makes Izuku smile, and Eri smile, so Katsuki finds himself doing the same in return. He’s fucking easy these days, apparently.

“Boom!” They both say. Izuku starts laughing, and there are bells in the wind with it. He looks happy for the first time in a long time.

After that, Eri drags Izuku up to her “stage” where most of the classmates have gathered and started an impromptu karaoke party. Eri’s trying to show him how she wants to dance, and he starts swinging her around gently. She laughs and squeals, and Katsuki watches as Izuku’s smile gets wider and wider, as Izuku’s joy blossoms and grows so much so that he throws his head back and laughs, unable to contain it all.

Katsuki is captivated by the sight of him. That smile feels a bit too much like light. Like warmth. Like true, actual healing.

Inside his own chest, everything burns as his heart pounds so hard, it feels like it’s trying to escape his ribcage.  He places his hand over where it beats.

Take it easy, he tries to tell himself, just like the doctors did. Even though he knows this has been a losing battle for some time now.

Katsuki isn’t stupid. He knows exactly why he started crying when he heard Izuku might be quirkless again. He knows exactly why his heart seems to stutter when he sees Izuku smile. He knows exactly why, sometimes, he can’t sleep at night, because he’s thinking about freckles and green hair.

It’s just… a lot. Too much. Too much that he knows he can’t say.

It’s not that he embarrassed by it. He only gets embarrassed when his mind comes up with something ridiculously sappy, or his heart does The Thing. But really, he’d be surprised if more people weren’t also tits over ass for someone as amazing as Izuku.

No. Here’s the thing. Izuku is a hero, through and through. The public, the world, is always going to come first to him.

Katsuki won’t jeopardize that. Not that he could, anyway.

And if he’s being honest, he wouldn’t know how to go about it if he wanted to, anyway.

Katsuki’s never felt this way before, about anyone. For a while, he thought he really was just not attracted to anybody, or he was so focused on being a hero that shit like that, relationships or whatever, would never matter to him.

He was never interested in anybody in middle school. Even when his friends were talking about girls— “she’s so pretty”, “you notice how so-and-so’s filling out”—things like that, made Katsuki sick to his stomach. It never intrigued him in the slightest. Then it was the boys.  The goons he hung out with would poke and prod at him, “If you don’t like girls just say so, there have to be some guys that catch your attention!”

But Katsuki didn’t like anyone that way, so he’d yell at them until they shut up about it.

Katsuki just didn’t like that kind of love. Or so he thought.

Izuku has always defied all expectations, and all rules that Katsuki thought existed for himself. So he really shouldn’t have been all that surprised that the damned nerd crawled his way into the sewers of Katsuki’s heart and made a home there.

Speaking of, ugh, relationships. Romance, and all that crap. It seems to be the number one topic on everyone’s mind when Kirishima and Ashido come into the common room a few nights later, while most of 2A students were supposed to be watching a movie.

It is, of fucking course, Kaminari who starts the whole thing, with a dramatic announcement of, “Ooooh look who’s holding hands!”

The two culprits immediately blush, but don’t let go of each other’s hands.

Hagakure squeals, “OMG. When did this happen? Tell us, tell us!”

“Come on, you guys!” Kirishima tries to wave them off.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Ashido adds in a sing-song voice, miming a zip of her lips.

Then Uraraka joins the front.

“You were always trying to get us to talk about our crushes,” she reminds Ashido in a teasing voice, “now it’s our turn!”

They sit on the couch, and Katsuki doesn’t really get the fanfare his classmates are spurring on. They’re probably just getting sweat on each other’s fingers, is it really worth all this hassle? Why don’t they just leave them alone?

Then Izuku says, “You guys look really happy.”

Katsuki looks at Izuku’s hands, and briefly laments the fact that they’re empty and not being held. He’d accept them now. He was just stupid before. A little self-centered prick who didn’t know the importance of—

Okay, maybe he shouldn’t berate the hand holding thing when he’s been dwelling on something similar for over a decade. And he can at least agree with Izuku’s comment. They do look happy, which is a nice change from the waves of gloom that surround 2-A a lot of the time these days.

Kirishima explains, “Thanks! I don’t have many answers, it just kind of fell into place. It just feels like now we finally have some downtime, and we can start thinking about things like…” He never finished that statement, instead smiling goofily at where their hands interlock.

Everyone else follows his line of sight, and some coo at the cuteness of it. Ashido rises up to give Kirishima a peck on the cheek. Kirishima looks dopey as shit.

Katsuki’s heart throbs. It’s not jealousy. It’s, fuck, maybe a little bit of longing? Because he catches Izuku’s eyes as he looks at them, and they seem to shine—not with tears, but with something hopeful, excited, and wonderous.

Does… does Izuku have time to think about those things now, too?

Shit. Scratch that thought and any others to follow. Katsuki already knows the answer. Why the fuck would he even think that?

Before people can ask anything more, Ashido decides to change the conversation.

“Enough about us, I expect something juicy in return! Any other new relationship developments in the works?”

Everyone frantically denies everything and anything, and the conversation instead turns into gossip about relationships of Pro Heroes. Mt. Lady and Kamui Woods’ relationship status becomes the main center of it all.

Katsuki couldn’t care less about this topic, but he stays intent on listening anyway, because he wants—

… Something. Something he knew he wasn’t going to get, so he’s pissed that he let himself think for even a second that he would. Because—

Izuku doesn’t look at him even once.

Katsuki would know, because he’s been pining his ass off, watching Izuku as everyone talked about crushes, and likes, and love, and hoping like an absolute idiot that Izuku would turn his way just once. Maybe on purpose, but maybe unconsciously, associating him, Kacchan, with those kinds of things. 

Keep your eyes on me, Deku, he wishes, still.

But it doesn’t happen.

Of course it fucking doesn’t. Izuku just keeps talking with his friends, like his whole world isn’t centered on just one person who’s in the same damn room—not like Katsuki’s depressing ass is.

Katsuki huffs a laugh at himself. It’s a little sharp. It kind of feels like a gasp. Like a little part of him had dared to believe in a chance for a second, held its breath for a sign, and just realized that it’s been crushed since the beginning.

Oh how Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight has fallen.

He stands up, and walks out. If anyone noticed, no one says a thing about it.

Sometimes, it feels as natural as everything. Like Izuku’s always been the center of his world, and those feelings are what ground and keep Katsuki stable. Like how he always knew he’d be a hero one day, and believed it as easy as he could breathe. He feels fine. Sometimes.

Other times, his mind races, and every fiber of his being feels restless.

This seems to be one of those times.

The thing is, time seems to move painfully slow, after the war.

Katsuki doesn’t know if it’s that he himself can’t do as much, or if the action has just died down and made everything else seem so mundane. It’s likely a mix of both. Maybe the stillness just gives him too much time to think.

Katsuki has never been someone who just sits still. He needs to move.

Especially on nights like these.

He went from training for hours and hours on end, always evolving, moving, perfecting, and now he can barely do any of those things at all.

And it’s pissing him the hell off.

After leaving the dorms, he made his way to Gym Gamma. He figured he’d just do some light jogging around the court, and “take it easy” while getting some energy out.

But he feels frazzled. Jumpy. Like his sweat might ignite even though he’s not allowed, and he’s not telling it to.

He starts off at a jog. And it’s fine for maybe one lap. But then everything kind of hits.

He used to sprint during runs. He used to be able to push himself, and feel his lungs burn with the strain. But now his heart is tied together with tiny little threads that could snap if he breathes just a little too hard.

And god, the arm that Shigaraki fucked up feels like dead weight, but at the same time the scarring on it feels like it’s searing everywhere from the elbow down.

He was still a little loopy on the meds the doctors had concocted for him when he found out about the state of his arm. It seemed logical at the time—it’s still logical, he hopes— to keep it, but now he feels like an utter fool for it.

He keeps expecting it to move. Explode. Do something, but all it does is dangle uselessly. He took off his sling because it kept pulling on his neck wrong, but somehow this is even worse.

He tries to act like it didn’t bother him. He tries to calm down.

Even though the physical therapy feels like it’s doing nothing. Even though he still can’t use his quirk. Even though almost all of his classmates are back doing hero work, and he’s being left behind.

How the hell can he keep competing with Izuku, when this is all that he’s been reduced to?

The thought chokes him, suddenly. He’s not expecting anything more from Izuku, not ever, but he at least wants to keep what they have now. He wants to stay by his side, or chasing right at his heels, but now it feels like he’s back to their first fight at U.A., where Katsuki first realized just how far ahead Izuku actually was.

Katsuki can’t reach him anymore.

He stops running, and he’s distantly aware that he’s breathing far too heavily for that light of a workout, but he can’t fucking focus. His vision gets blurry as he drags himself over to the wall.

When he gets there, he punches it with his good hand and hard as he can. It hurts, which means it’s working.

He stares at his dangling arm. At the hand there. At the fingers that look wrong from all angles. He thinks, explode, explode, explode.

It does absolutely nothing. And that’s apparently the last fucking straw.

Katsuki screams. Roars and yells and cries. At everything, and nothing. And then again, until his throat feels raw, until he tastes blood on his tongue.

He punches the wall—“You piece of shit!”—Again—“What the fuck!”—again— “What the fuck?!”—and again— “Do something, you worthless—!!"

There’s a sudden pressure on Katsuki’s shoulder, and all the breath gets sucked out of him. He didn’t even notice anyone come it. He flicks his eyes over, and—

Why does it always have to be Izuku who finds him like this?

He fucking breaks.

“Kacchan,” Izuku sounds so gentle, so hero-like, so in-control even as he has to catch Katsuki and lower him to the ground so he doesn’t collapse completely. “Kacchan,” he says again, looking for Katsuki’s eyes, “can I hold you?”

Katsuki knows he’s crying. He’s had the pounding in his head for a while now, and his eyes burn. But he forgot how much it hurts to cry. He might nod, or maybe Izuku sees the need in his expression, and then Izuku is all around him.

He rubs their heads together, gently, even though Katsuki’s sobs are violently shaking his whole body. He’s whispering small comforts into the small space between them.

“Kacchan, it’ll be okay. I promise. You’ll be okay. You’re working so hard, it’s okay to have a bad day.”

Katsuki’s supposed to be by his side, chasing him.

Izuku is supposed to be fighting with him, not just watching him shatter, not just scraping up the pieces of the aftermath. Not just letting Katsuki claw at his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping him sane.

Izuku’s being a hero, while Katsuki’s falling apart.

Through gasps, he shouts, “Nothing is how it’s supposed to be!”

“I know, I know.” Izuku moves, and he’s got him in a true hug now. Katsuki’s tears get lost into the collar of his shirt. “The world is still a mess right now, but us, and our classmates, and the other heroes—we’ll work hard, and the world will be okay one day.”

You don’t get it, Katsuki wants to scream at him, you’re my world.

It’s sappy, and disgusting, but so stupidly honest to himself that he chokes on another sob. Izuku doesn’t get it. To him, it’ll always be the world first. Saving everyone is a priority, and Katsuki isn’t special—not like Izuku is to him.

Miserably, selfishly, pathetically, he lets himself hold onto Izuku tighter. At the very least, he can have this. While he breaks, he can have some of Izuku’s attention all to himself.

When Katsuki finally gathered his wits enough, he sat back enough to dislodge Izuku’s arms, letting him know that the worst had passed. Izuku had asked him if he was okay, and Katsuki nodded.

He’s sure neither of them actually believes that though.

Katsuki had wiped his disgusting face off on his tank top, and by then Izuku was already standing with a hand waiting to help him up.

Yeah, he took it. What the fuck ever. His heart doesn’t need to beat that hard because of it. Damn.

Exhausted and embarrassed, Katsuki went back to his room. Izuku stayed behind to work out, which was apparently why he had come there in the first place, and he let Katsuki go without a fight. He must’ve sensed that Katsuki really wasn’t in the mood to talk after all that, which Katsuki is secretly thankful for.

Katsuki’s awake and cooking the next morning, on account of him waking up hellishly early due to a pounding headache that definitely called for some medication, when he hears the slide of slippers patter onto the kitchen floor behind him.

“Morning, Kacchan,” Izuku greets, he’s got one hand under his shirt that says “sleep shirt”, scratching at his stomach, and the other covers his mouth as he yawns one long, huge inhale.

The sight of it makes Katsuki’s stomach flip. He’s ridiculously endeared by everything about the view in front of him. It’s such a normal thing, nothing particularly special, and yet, Katsuki feels like it must be.

To get to see Izuku like this. It’s special.

“Mornin’.” He manages to say after a few moments.

“You, um. Are you feeling okay?”

A branch, a limb, an offer to talk. It’s about last night.

Katsuki doesn’t shrink away from the question, not like he would’ve in the past, but he would rather not talk about it now. He’d definitely rather just zone out at the peek of Izuku’s abs he can see from where his shirt rises up.

He barely remembers to answer, which he does with a simple nod. He does feel more settled today, though his thoughts are wandering a bit too far.

Izuku gives him a tight smile in return, and lets it be, deciding to change the subject and none the wiser to Katsuki’s current distraction.

“What are you making?”

Katsuki has to turn back to the food in order to keep his mind straight. Damnit, he really is getting pathetic.

“Omelets. Want one?”

He can hear the smile his Izuku’s voice. “Please! If you don’t mind.”

“…I don’t mind.” He wouldn’t ever. Because right now, Izuku’s eyes are on him. He has his attention, and that settles Katsuki in ways he never knew he so desperately needed.

Izuku stands just to his side, and watches as Katsuki uses chopsticks to scramble the eggs. Katsuki tries to breathe normally, to not give anything away. But his eyes want to look, to see him more than just out of the corner of his eye, but Katsuki won’t be able to hide the stutter in his breath if he does that.

“Mind if I watch?” Izuku asks, simultaneously too close and too far away. “I want to get better at cooking.”

Fall back on normal. The usual. Banter, tease, just don’t get locked up in the dream.

“Tch. Mama’s boy.”

After it comes out of his mouth, Katsuki’s horrified to hear that it’s not scathing in the slightest. He sounds grossly fond. He has to turn, to see if Izuku noticed, and he hopes he doesn’t, but—

Izuku just sticks his tongue out playfully. A special warmth spreads through Katsuki’s chest at it. They can tease, they can still have fun. It’s normal.

It’s fine.

Izuku keeps talking, and the rumble of his still-waking-up voice is soothing. “So what if I am? I’ve been spoiled by her and Lunch Rush, so I’ve never actually had to learn myself. But when I get my own place one day, I don’t just want to live off take out.”

I’d cook for you everyday, if you’d let me. If you’d just say good morning to me like you did.

But he can’t say that. Shit, he shouldn’t even be thinking that—it feels too dramatic for a seventeen-year-old looking at runny eggs.

“Watch and learn,” he says instead.

Everything goes quiet, save for the sizzling of the eggs in the pan. Katsuki doesn’t say anything, just tries to keep breathing normally while he can feel Izuku eyes on him, as they should be, always, but right now they burn him. He wants it to consume him.

How bad would it be, really, to take his hand and hold it? To look him in the eyes and keep them there, so he doesn’t look away, so neither of them fall behind, so Katsuki’s always in his sights—

The rice cooker beeps.

“Get that, would you? Two bowls.” He asks, jerking his head towards the machine.

Izuku takes the opportunity to walk behind Katsuki to get to his other side. A horrible, pathetic part of him shivers at it, because he thinks he’s so close, and he could almost just touch Katsuki, trace his fingers along his lower back, to his hip, hook his chin over his shoulder and press his chest against Katsuki’s back.

God, is he really yearning for something like this? Pining this fucking hard? What an idiot.

He lets the thought pass with a deep breath, and folds the finalized omelet, placing it on top of the first bowl of rice Izuku presents to him.

“Wow, it looks amazing!”

“It’s just eggs.” Don’t blush you fucking idiot, he yells at himself. It’s literally just fucking eggs.

“But you folded them so perfectly!”

“Shut the fuck up and eat.”

And that’s how their morning goes. Nice, pleasant, and the night before seeming like a distant memory. The months before seeming far away. It feels like they’re not fighting anyone or anything anymore, they’re just… existing. Together.

Izuku and Kacchan.

It’s really damn nice.

Even as other people meander down the stairs for breakfast, the peace lasts. In fact, the first blip in it doesn’t come until much later, during Quirk Practical training that afternoon.

Neither he nor Izuku are cleared yet to train with their quirks. Katsuki because of his heart, Izuku because of the uncertainty of his quirk.

Aizawa had been very clear that they do not have to attend, but how couldn’t they? They may be out of commission for the moment, but they’re still the damn best.

They go watch, and sit, benched away from the activities and next to each other.

Izuku’s eyes swirl with something—else. Something not happy. Something unpleasant. His eyebrows are pinched together. He gets that way far too often these days, but he never reaches out about it, and Katsuki needs to snap him out of it so it wipes that stupid, devastating look off his face. (It’s too sad, too wrong.)

So Katsuki shoves his shoulder into his, jolting Izuku out of his trance. His surprise comes with a  “Waugh!” sound that normally would’ve caused him to laugh, but Izuku looks bothered enough that he keeps his tone serious.

“C’mon, nerd. You look constipated as hell. What’s eating you?”

Izuku grimaces. It looks weird and wrong, and he’s fiddling with his thumbs. He seems to need a second to come up with his answer; he looks like he really doesn’t want to say whatever it is.

“Starting tomorrow, I’ll be back to real training. I’ll be doing a shift under Endeavor’s agency.”

 Katsuki, briefly feels like the floor fell out from underneath him and his stomach went with it.

Izuku starts rambling, “The doctors cleared me. I’m still technically not allowed to use my quirk, though. But they said I could work on patrol again, maybe, or do some logistical stuff like we had to do when we were interns, which I mean, is better than nothing, and I’ll be happy to start doing real hero work again.”

He’s not okay. Izuku isn’t.

Katsuki knows it. He can see it in the twinge of his face, the smallest forced-cheeriness he adds to his words. The way he runs a hand over the part of his hair that’s missing when he’s left alone with his thoughts too long.

He’s not okay.

But he’s better than Katsuki’s doing, physically at least, if he’s been cleared.

And that’s… good.

Katsuki’s happy for him, really. It just also really sucks to have evidence, now, that he’s truly falling behind. But he’s not that selfish, anymore.

And it’s important that Izuku knows that. For both their sakes.

Katsuki fiddles with the cap of his water bottle for a moment, thinking of what to say. He can feel Izuku’s eyes on him, watching him, maybe waiting for him to break in anger and frustration like he did just last night. He’s always looking out for others, and never for himself.

But Katsuki  won’t lash out this time. He doesn’t need to. He doesn’t want to. He just wants Izuku to know—

“You’re amazing,” he whispers, “I hope you know that.”

The words feel a bit foreign on his tongue, but he means them.

Izuku is waving his hands, flustered as he says, “That feels so unlike you to say!”

It stings, just a bit, the reminder of how he used to be. But he also knows a deflection when he sees one. Izuku is embarrassed.

He shoves his shoulder into Izuku’s just enough to jostle him.

“You’d better take breaks. Don’t be stupid and try doing too much your first day back, moron. I’ll kill both you and that old man if you do.”

It gets Izuku to laugh, and there’s a pretty fluster to his cheeks as a grin stretches across his face. He looks happier. That’s something.

“Thank you for caring for me, Kacchan.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, then pushes Izuku’s stupid (nice, handsome) face away.

That idiot. He doesn’t even know the half of it.

The next morning, Izuku’s already in the kitchen by the time Katsuki comes down to start cooking.

“Good morning, Kacchan,” he says, and it makes Katsuki’s stomach swoop just like it did before. His hair is messy and askew (Katsuki wants to run his hand through it), his shirt is rumpled (Katsuki wants to run his hand under it), his voice a little bit sleepy (Katsuki wants to swallow it), and it’s so fucking perfect.

Except for the bags under Izuku’s eyes.

“Did you sleep at all?” He asks with a sneer, to show his disapproval.

Izuku’s face looks a little bit shadowed with the exhaustion. He nods, and then turns back to mess with something he’s cooking in the pan.

“I did, I swear. I just got too antsy waiting to get to work today, so I woke up early and couldn’t go back to sleep. I figured I’d make you breakfast,” he turns back around so Katsuki can see his face, “to pay you back for yesterday!”

God. That smile could make a whole army lay down and bow. Fuck, it’s about to knock Katsuki out. There’s an additional fluttering in his heart this time, too, because—

It’s for me. Just me?

Is Izuku really cooking just for him?

…Katsuki is… tempted. He’s always damn tempted, but now there’s a pull. It tells him to try. To chance it. Muster up the words and hope Izuku returns his feelings. Or reach out and go a bit farther than just friendly touch. Take his hand and hold it for as long as possible.

Because maybe, just maybe, there’s an actual chance—

“I want to make them for everyone who’s here today before work, so I wanted you to try it first.”

…Right.

A hero to everyone.

Katsuki hates that he feels disappointed for a second. (He’s a hero, too, for fucks sake, supposed to be dedicated to saving as many people possible, yet he wants himself to be a priority?) But, it’s hard to feel all that bad when this is something he admires so much about Izuku. It’s one of the reasons Katsuki always wants to be by his side, so Izuku knows has a hero to rely on, too.

So he lets the feeling pass. No big deal.

It just is what it is. He’s still pretty damn happy to be here and witness early-morning-Izuku, anyway.

“It’s good,” he says, when he gets to try the finished omelet.

“Not too much salt? Pepper? Should I have added—”

“It’s fine, Izuku. No notes.”

“Really?” Izuku breathes out, like he’s sighing in relief.

“Really.” Katsuki smirks, then adds, “Whoever showed you how to do this showed you right.”

Izuku seems to find his response easily.

“Well, Kacchan is amazing.”

Izuku’s face is so damn adorable, the way his cheeks puff up in pride and joy, Katsuki just has to flick his forehead. The sight of him and those words combined make his stomach swoop. He feels the scar on his own face stretch with the pull of a smile.

“And don’t you forget it!”

Katsuki’s heart is racing, and it won’t stop. The monitor watch tells him his heartrate has been over 180 for nearly three hours.

It’s the middle of the night. He’s all alone.

He doesn’t want to wake anyone up, but he doesn’t want to die either. And this feels… bad.

So, he thinks about who he can call, who can drive, who’s here and—

All Might greets him at the entrance to the dorms, lacking his big trademark smile, but eyes full of gentle reassurance.

“Let’s go, Young Bakugou. It’ll be alright,” he says, placing what should be a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Katsuki says nothing, just climbs into the passenger side of his car and stares at the road straight in front of him. He’s trying really hard not to throw up. He’s so scared, which feels bizarre to acknowledge. Because what if it’s not alright? Did the threads break? Did he push too hard the other night? He’s clammy, and shaking, and the monitor keeps taunting him with numbers that are too fucking high. He feels like his heart might be on the verge of exploding, again, and that’ll be the end of it all—

Supraventricular tachycardia. That’s what the doctors tell him after a few hours of torturous waiting. They say that it’s good that he came in, that there’s a medicine to help, that he’ll be just fine.

Katsuki feels like the biggest idiot on the planet. It turned out to not even be an emergency.

All Might drives them back to U.A. mostly in silence. There’s no music playing. Katsuki feels like the tension is going to shake him out of his own skin.

“Sorry for dragging you out here for nothin’.” He eventually spits, like acid, because apologies still grate on his throat sometimes, especially when he feels guilty. The moon was smack dab in the middle of the sky when he woke All Might up, and now the pink of sunrise is making its debut. All Might could’ve had a full night of rest, but then Katsuki ruined it.

“Young Bakugou, there is no need to apologize. I’m glad you came to me and we got this figured out.”

It should help settle him. But it kind of really doesn’t. Katsuki could’ve figured this out at a reasonable time of day.

When All Might parks, Katsuki tries to get out immediately. He wants to run up to his room and simmer in the anger at himself for a while—he needs to settle. He needs to sleep. He feels like a livewire with no outlet.

But All Might stops him with a hand on his shoulder, warm and heavy.

“Believe me, I learned this the hard way. But reaching out for help when you need it will never be a weakness. Call me anytime, day or night. I am here, for you.”

A chill runs up Katsuki’s spine as nostalgia hits him. The old catch phrase does actually help some—the reassuring tone of it strikes him deep in his bones, just like it did when he was five years old and knew nothing but peace.

They’re both still here. Maybe a bit broken in places, but they are here.

Katsuki nods, and lets his lips flick into a small smile as thanks. All Might returns it tenfold.

When they walk into the dorms, Izuku immediately walks around the corner from the kitchen.

“Kacc—All Might? What are you doing here this early? Is everything okay?”

All Might, for as good as he always played up the cameras and his OFA in his younger days, can’t even remotely try to keep a secret these days, it seems. He starts blubbering, “well, uh—” in a dozen different ways, none of which seem remotely casual if he’s trying not to spill about their little trip.

Katsuki decides to spare him.

“Relax, Izuku. He was with me.”

Green eyes flicker over to him. “And where were you? I know we never talked about it officially, but I thought breakfast was like, our thing now? A routine. And when you didn’t show up, I looked at my phone, but…”

“Sorry, I should’ve texted.” Fuck, he really should have, once it had been around the time Izuku woke up. Then he could’ve just said he was sleeping in, or something, but now he’s face-to-face with him, and Katsuki can’t find it in himself to lie. “Had to go to the hospital to… check something.”

“The… the hospital? For what?”

He looks so worried, already. God fucking dammit.

Katsuki shrugs, trying to keep things casual. “Just my dumb heart being a lil’ dramatic.”

Apparently, Katsuki shouldn’t talk lightly about that, because Izuku suddenly has tears in the corners of his eyes, and though concern is there, he also looks a little bit… pissed.

“Kacchan, you should’ve told me! I could’ve gone with you!”

Don’t fight don’t fight don’t fight.  Katsuki knows exactly why he didn’t text Izuku.

“Didn’t want to bother you,” he mumbles. He doesn’t want to fight.

“It wouldn’t have been a bother!” Izuku yells. And of course he’d think that. He’d always think that, for anyone and everyone. He’s a hero, through and through.

“It was the middle of the night,” Katsuki grits his teeth, trying to stay calm, to take it easy, and failing with each new word. “You need to sleep!”

Izuku’s face is red and angry when he snaps back.

“So what if it was the middle of the night? I care about you, Kacchan, at all hours!”

“Yeah, well, you also care about the whole damn world, and you need sleep to do that, idiot!”

Katsuki realizes, just a moment too late, how harsh that sounded.  Fuck. Shit shit shit. He looks away from the trembling man if front of him, instead moving his vision to the floor.

“Kacchan,” Izuku sounds sad, and confused, but he says, “you come first to me, always.”

It hits Katsuki like a wall of bricks. He knows exactly where this conversation is headed, now. Because, somehow, Izuku really doesn’t know that Katsuki knows that isn’t true.

Katsuki can hear All Might shuffling away from the two of them. It’d be laughable, how awkward he is, how not-subtle he is about leaving, except that the whole room feels heavy, with no room for any laughter. Even Katsuki’s lungs are feeling the weight, the pressure. Izuku’s breathing is still heavy, angry, and he looks hurt, too.

Katsuki braces himself, closing his eyes and taking in one shuttering breath. He supposes it would’ve come out sometime, anyway. Might as well do it now, when he already feels flayed open and messy and raw.

“You don’t mean that,” he tells Izuku, softly. “Not like I do.”

It’s devastating, the way Izuku’s head tilts so sweetly, trying to understand. Katsuki feels it like a punch to the gut.

“How do you mean it?” Izuku asks, genuinely confused.

“I…” God. Fuck. Katsuki doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want to ruin everything. But he feels like going any longer would be like deception, lying to Izuku by omission. And Izuku’s stubborn, he won’t just take a half-assed answer. He deserves to know.

Katsuki already started this whole thing, anyway, and he supposes, at this point, every day has just been more pressure building up against a weak dam inside him, trying to hold all his want back.

Stupid, shitty emotions. What words could he possibly choose, to keep this as painless as possible?

“I’m… I want to be by your side, forever. For the rest of our lives.”

Izuku’s eyes are still confused, but they flash with recognition at the words. “We already are, Kacchan. I still want that, too. Nothing’s changed since the hospital.”

“No, no, that’s not… it. Izuku. You’re… To me— It’s… more than a rival thing.” He hates how out of sorts he feels. How he braces against the rejection before it even comes. How he can’t manage to say the real word out loud, because then what he’s losing will be all too real.

“We’re best friends?” Izuku tries, attempting to fill in the gaps where Katsuki can’t.

His dead arm throbs. His good one comes up to grab at it, and hold onto it. To hold himself together.

“More than that still.”

Izuku’s searching. He starts mumbling a few thoughts, trying to piece it all together. It all feels like a waiting game, and Katsuki’s suspended in time, anticipating the inevitable crash.

“I can only think of romantic love beyond that, Kacchan,” Izuku says causally, a few moments later, thinking he’s way off the mark.

What an idiot, Katsuki thinks, but he’s not quite which one of them he means in that moment.

“Yeah well,” a shuddering breath, and then, “what I feel for you is that level. So.”

And there it is. The crash.

Time freezes, and Izuku’s eyes go wide. His breathing stops. He doesn’t move. Those eyes glisten, trying to absorb the new information.

Katsuki internally curses at himself for how he still thinks the word beautiful amidst all the chaos.

“Love like—dating stuff?” Izuku chokes on his own words, scrambling to understand as his face turns bright red. “Romance? Dates and kissing?” He looks like he wants to reach out, but there’s an invisible wall between them, a tether holding him back. It’s been a long time since Izuku wouldn’t reach out to him. “Kacchan, I had no idea.”

Please. Please don’t say too much. Please don’t break. Please take it easy.

Katsuki fidgets, feeling so pathetic, his good hand rubbing along his other arm as he looks off into the distance, avoiding any eye contact. “Yeah, I figured. I didn’t want you to know anyway.”

Izuku sounds devastated when he asks a quiet, confused, “Why not?”

“Uh, this?” He waves his hand between them, gesturing at the situation. “You don’t feel the same, so I didn’t want…” Didn’t want to face it; didn’t want this to hurt you, too.

It takes a few excruciating seconds for Izuku to do anything more than breathe shakily.

“I’ve… I’ve never thought about it.” It’s small. And honest. And quiet, while Katsuki’s insides roar in despair.

“S’okay,” and he means it, so his voice doesn’t waver, “I never expected you to… reciprocate.”

When he looks up again, Izuku looks stricken. Katsuki feels the same.

Somehow, Katsuki’s love has broken both their hearts, and that feels horribly fitting for someone like him. He knew it wouldn’t be reciprocated, and while that hurts him, sure, claws at his fucking chest and rips through him, it hurts more knowing that he’s responsible for that expression on Izuku’s face. Again. Just like he used to.

He’s never stopped hurting him.

Katsuki briefly considers offering an apology for all of this, but he thinks that would just make it worse, make Izuku’s eyebrows pinch tighter, make the wobble of his lips increase. So he doesn’t.

Instead, he walks past Izuku, heading to the stairs, and says, “I’m gonna take a nap.”

There’s no sound of protest from Izuku. He must’ve stood there for a while after. Katsuki doesn’t know. He just needed to get away.

He feels like static fills him from head to toes he finds his way to his bed. His mind is racing, but he can’t pull out any of the thoughts to single them out. Everything’s screaming, you messed up you messed up, of course you did of course you did, and I hurt him I hurt him I hurt him.

He briefly comes back to himself when his phone vibrates with a text message.

-Is your heart okay now?

Katsuki snorts at irony. Then a mean, cruel laugh escapes from his throat—mocking himself, and this situation he’s got himself into, the pathetic way he’s fallen. The twinge in the corners of his eyes burn with the onslaught of tears at Izuku asking about his literal heart, while the figurative one is shattering into dust.

But he knows the other can’t help but ask—he always thinks of others. No awkwardness could ever defeat his concern.

His vision is blurry, but he manages.

-Fine now. New meds should help.

Izuku is typing…

…

…

Then just a thumbs up.

Katsuki’s lips turn into a smile, and it pulls enough for the tears to start falling. The undefeatable hero can be brought down by awkwardness, then. Ha.

If Katsuki cries himself to sleep, no one needs to know.

They don’t see each other the rest of that day. All Might had cleared Katsuki’s absence at school that morning due to the hospital fiasco, and Katsuki didn’t have the heart (ha) to fight it.

He ends up sleeping through most of the day. He makes it down to the kitchen to make some food sometime in the afternoon, but it’s before classes are over, so no one is there to see the pink tint in his eyes.

They do, however, see each other the next morning.

Katsuki feels something pulling at him to go downstairs at the usual time that he and Izuku make breakfast. Maybe it’s his instinct to see if he really had broken everything and Izuku doesn’t show, or maybe there’s a part of him that wants to check on Izuku, too. Make sure he’s okay.

With a sigh, he lets that feeling pull him down.

Messy green hair greets him. He has his back turned to Katsuki, but he knows he heard his footsteps.

Izuku tenses at first, but then turns around, and the look he’s giving Katsuki—it’s too different, too surprised, too much like pity. Katsuki forces himself not to fight back, and to not run away.

He walks, trying his best to act as normal and nonchalant as possible, despite his heart being broken in more ways than one. He bends down to get another pan to start cooking something on his side. When it clanks onto the stovetop, Izuku starts speaking.

“I… wasn’t sure you’d come.” He sounds small. So not what Izuku should be.

Katsuki scoffs, trying for something casual and light. “Not gonna ditch you again. I already did yesterday morning, and look where that got us.”

Izuku winces, but doesn’t seem to have a response beyond that. Katsuki walks to the fridge to grab the eggs, distinctly aware of the silence between them.

It’s awkward, and painful. But Katsuki hopelessly, selfishly thinks, that if they can endure it for now, this part that hurts for Izuku will disappear soon enough. Water under the bridge.  And then they’ll get normal back again. They have to. Their normal is too good to just throw away over something like this, right?

After a few more moments, Izuku breaks the silence.

“I… I really never thought about— that— um, us, in that way before.”

“We don’t have to talk about this, Izuku,” Katsuki says, hoping that it will be enough to leave it alone.

“I just—I don’t want to be disrespectful. I never expected…”

“Let me rephrase, please don’t make me talk about this.”

But there’s a wobble to Izuku’s eyes and lips that show that he really can’t let this go. Katsuki feels immensely uncomfortable, but he braces against it with a deep breath, and a brief moment to close his eyes and prepare.

He has to talk about this, or Izuku will let it consume him.

“Look,” he starts, turning to face him, “nothing has to change. It’s not like those feelings are new anyway, so we can just keep being…” friends? Rivals? “…how we were, before I ran my shitty mouth.”

It’s apparently not enough, because Izuku’s wringing his hands together, and his eyes are imploring. “I appreciate you telling me, though. It must’ve been a hard secret to keep. How, how long have you—?”

Katsuki starts answering before Izuku can finish, to stop him from saying that word.

“I became… aware of it when I first got stabbed by Shigaraki, I guess. Just kinda threw me for a loop, on all the meds, trying to figure out why I did that. And then I really thought about it, and I think there’s been something ever since you saved me from the sludge villain. I was just too angry at the time to really get it. I was a little preoccupied with being an absolute asshole.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku sounds like he’s choking on tears, “that means it’s been years—”

“Izuku.” Katsuki breathes, tries to calm himself down, put his feelings to the side to help this man from falling apart because of him. He sets his hand on Izuku’s shoulder and holds his eye contact, assuring in an unwavering voice, “I’m okay. It’s okay. Sometimes, things just don’t work out, and it’s okay. I don’t blame you, and you don’t need to…”

He has to search for the word, but when he finds it, he knows it’s the right one.

“You don’t need to ‘save’ me from this. I just want you to be happy.”

“I want you to be happy.”

“I am,” he promises, “just hanging out with you, it’s enough.”

Izuku starts sniffling, and the waterworks spill over. He wipes his face on his sleeve, and Katsuki’s heart squeezes at the sight. Even like this, he’s so beautiful. Even when every word of rejection that he says stabs Katsuki’s insides even more, Katsuki can’t help but admire him. How much he cares, how much he wants to make things right, even though he doesn’t have to.

Words aren’t enough, right now. Izuku needs something more.

(And maybe, Katsuki does too.)

“Alright,” Katsuki says, moving his good arm out, “c’mere, you big crybaby.”

Izuku looks up at him, and there’s a moment where time feels suspended, and Katsuki feels just a bit stupid, but then Izuku’s slamming into his chest. Katsuki can’t help the “oof” that escapes him at the pressure on his chest, even though the arm in his sling buffers it.

But it doesn’t hurt. At least, not physically.

Izuku’s arms wrap up around his back, and grip tightly into the fabric of his shirt as he cries into it. Crying, little bursts of hiccups, as he mourns for Katsuki.

Katsuki brings his arm up, and wraps it around Izuku’s shoulders, holding him there. Letting him express all the turmoil, the sympathy. And he feels shaky himself. This hug, this warmth that he invited to share, it’s so pleasant, so nice, so everything Katsuki didn’t know he needed, and—

It feels a bit too much like admitting defeat. Like he knows he can’t have this touch, again. Like this is all he’ll ever get.

Katsuki drops his head, and grips at Izuku’s shirt, too. He feels his jaw tremble, even though he desperately wants to stop it.

His eyes burn, but he can’t show Izuku how broken he actually feels, because that would only hurt the other more. And Katsuki has hurt him enough in this life time.

One tear burns a track from the corner of his eye, and down, hidden into the safety of Izuku’s neck, and that’s all he’ll let free.

It’s enough. It has to be.

Chapter Text

Kacchan is amazing. To Izuku, that is an irrefutable fact.

Things are getting better. At least, Izuku thinks they are. After their hug in the kitchen, that immense wave of awkwardness hasn’t come back between them, even if sometimes Izuku stumbles on what to say to him.

Kacchan’s confession really caught him off guard. He never, ever expected that. Not in a million years. In fact, he still doesn’t really believe it sometimes.

Kacchan… likes him? Like going on dates to an amusement park and sharing crepes type of like? It seems so bizarre!

Not that he finds Kacchan weird for it! It’s just, kind of crazy that he feels that way about Izuku of all people. He finds it hard to believe that anyone would feel that way about him.

Izuku meant it when he said he never thought of them that way. He’s never thought of anyone that way. Not really. He gets flustered when girls get to close, sure, and he fanboys over all kinds of people, but he’s never looked at someone in particular and thought I want to date that person.

In middle school, he’d assumed that one day he’d get married, have kids and all that. But that was before he’d gotten his quirk from All Might. After that, it felt irresponsible to think about doing anything other than Hero work full time. It still feels irresponsible, when the world still needs so much help healing.

He knows Kirishima and Ashido are trying things out, and so are several of the other hero course students. He’s happy for them! It’s just not right for Izuku. That’s what he decided a long time ago.

And yet, turning down Kacchan felt very wrong.

Izuku doesn’t know why it felt wrong. He doesn’t return Kacchan’s feelings, so it was the right thing to do. Maybe because he knew it would make Kacchan sad? Because Kacchan was hurting?

But he’s felt that kind of wrong before, when Kacchan told him about how he felt responsible for All Might’s retirement, and this kind of wrongness felt… different. Like, for some reason, saying a well and true “no” went against every fiber of his being.

Even though he doesn’t like Kacchan that way. Like he said, he’s really never thought about it.

If he’s following in All Might’s footsteps, marriage (to anyone) isn’t really on the table. Being a pro comes with too many risks in relationships—no time to dedicate to a partner, potentially endangering them if their connection got leaked, dying early and leaving them behind, etc.

Anyway…

Kacchan took the rejection well. Or, at least, he’s hiding the sting from Izuku when they hang out after the confession. They still do breakfast together in the mornings, and workout or do homework together when their schedules line up. Kacchan had said he wants to keep everything normal, but Izuku’s heart tugs in his chest every time he sees his eyes now. Because now he can see how he looks toward him, with care and a gentleness that burns, and Izuku doesn’t know what to do about it.

He doesn’t pity Kacchan, it’s just… Izuku can’t be want he wants. So he feels like he’s letting him down.

But, apparently, if there’s anything that the two of them have mastered throughout the last few years, it’s burying down their emotions about each other.

So they don’t talk about it.

(Izuku wants to, though. He can’t stand that there was such a big part of Kacchan that he didn’t know about. He wants to know it all, every last thing—why he likes him, what it feels like— but he doesn’t want to hurt Kacchan in the process of asking. He doesn’t return the feelings but he really, really wants to hear about Kacchan’s. For some reason.)

(…It’s not unique. Izuku wants to know a lot of things about everyone!)

They keep on being best friends, thankfully. Neither of them are willing to give that up, and Izuku is so grateful for that. He doesn’t know what would happen if Kacchan suddenly left his life. He’s too important to Izuku.

Sometimes, now, he catches Kacchan watching him with a foreign fondness in his expression. It’s usually when Izuku’s doing something mundane, like cooking in the morning, or talking with classmates. It’s like he’s always had Kacchan’s attention, and he didn’t even know it.

It’s strange. In a good way? Probably? But Izuku doesn’t dwell on it too much.

He can’t afford to. He’s too busy, and there’s too much to do to get focused on things like… that.

He’s especially busy now that he’s cleared to work again. He needs to make up physical strength from his recovery after the fight. He needs to be in top physical shape so he can help out as much as possible.

So he works out a lot. It helps keep him focused on the game plan, on what he needs to do.

He doesn’t think about how he has to consciously telling himself not to use One for All now, since it had become instinct. He doesn’t think about that at all. It doesn’t matter. He just needs to improve his natural physicality.

He’s in the middle of doing reps of pushups, when the door to the gym opens.

Kacchan comes in wearing a tank top. It makes sense. it’s the middle of summer. Kacchan doesn’t need to get as much sweat out as possible right now; he can take it easy.

That’s good.

And maybe Izuku’s heart clenches just a bit at the sight of his scars on display. Starbursts of skin from hits he shouldn’t have had to take, permanently marking his skin as reminders of Izuku being just a second too late. And he takes a terrible peek at the edges of one scar from his chest, a huge, horrible, terrible reminder of—

Izuku shakes himself out of those thoughts when Kacchan’s eyes find his. Izuku sits up and smiles and waves at him, and Kacchan nods in greeting. Then, he puts in earbuds and starts jogging.

Izuku watches him for a while. He watches the gait of his footfall, the sway of his loose tank top, and the steadiness of the sling holding his right arm. He just wants to make sure Kacchan’s okay. Especially with how he found him the other night, and the knowledge that he’s on new medication for his heart.

But right now, Kacchan looks peaceful. It’s a nice look on him, as most are. But Izuku doesn’t like it when Kacchan looks stressed like he has way too often in the last several years.

Even with the scars marring most of his arm, something just looks so right about the way Kacchan holds himself. It’s like he can see the full image of Katsuki Bakugou now, whereas before he only got a little glimpse. Kacchan’s bravery, as much of it that was bravado, also held so much insecurity. But here he is, open and honest, and existing with Izuku. Just doing something like working out, hanging out, or making breakfast…

Izuku feels so blessed.

So why don’t I feel happy?

Izuku shakes his head at that unwelcome question, scattering it away. He is happy—it’s just that, for some reason, his brain hasn’t gotten that memo, apparently. He’s doing what he needs to do, he’s at U.A., and the world is healing.

So he should be happy.

“You busy tonight?” Kacchan asks, suddenly right next to him.

“Wah-chan! You startled me.” Izuku hadn’t noticed him coming close; his mind must’ve been wandering for a while. “Um, tonight? After work, I don’t have any plans.”

Kacchan nods, then takes a sip from his water bottle. His Adam’s apple bobs with the movement in one long, distracting slide.

Huh?

“Wanna watch an All Might movie later, then? When you get back?”

Izuku immediately feels a smile on his face and excitement in his veins.

“Oh, that sounds great! Which one were you thinking? Internet isn’t up and working yet, but I have some DVDs that I’ve had forever! I especially love the ones that cover the Golden Age, since that’s who we watched on TV growing up, but there are some great ones about the Bronze Age, too—!”

He hears a small chuckle, which causes him to stop rambling. Kacchan has a small smile on his face. It’s still new, to Izuku, to see something so delicate on him.

“Sorry,” Izuku says, realizing he accidentally started rambling about All Might. Oops. “I got carried away.”

“S’fine. I don’t mind,” Kacchan says, voice soft and genuine.

Oh. Izuku hasn’t heard that very many times in his life—especially not from Kacchan. He thought he found his rambling annoying.  But apparently, he doesn’t? He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised, since Kacchan told him he likes him, but still, Izuku knows it’s a habit that a lot of people aren’t fond of, and he never thought…

Unaware of Izuku’s distracting new revelation, Kacchan continues, “I have a few downloaded from before everything went to shit, but you can bring one you like. Golden Age is my favorite, too.”

Snapped out of his thoughts, Izuku smiles, knowing he’ll have to write that new information down in a notebook on a Kacchan page. He knew Kacchan was an All Might fan, but they haven’t had any chances to really geek out about it. Not with the new way they are comfortable with each other.

“Let’s do the one you have planned,” he decides. It was Kacchan’s request to hang out, after all.

And that’s that. Izuku finishes up in the gym and bids Kacchan farewell before getting ready for a shift. When he gets back to the dorms after work, he showers and puts on clean pajamas before making his way up to Kacchan’s room.

He brought his All Might blanket, just so comfy levels are at a maximum.

Kacchan opens the door a few seconds after the knocks, and smirks at the blanket.

“Nerd,” he says.

Izuku rolls his eyes and sticks out his tongue. “Says you!”

Kacchan doesn’t seem to have a comeback to that, instead just shrugging and opening the door more for Izuku to come in.

He has been in Kacchan’s room before, but it’s still exciting each time. To be welcome into a place that he keeps so private—it feels special. He hardly lets anyone in here.

They settle onto the bed, All Might blanket covering both of them from their hips down, and Kacchan sets up the video.

It feels… juvenile. Two boys, lying next to each other shoulder-to-shoulder just watching an old childhood movie in all its grainy and pixelated glory off of a laptop screen. They saved the whole world just a few weeks ago. Izuku almost can’t believe it. That they get to have this, that he gets to have this.

He wonders if Kacchan feels the same. Or if there’s a part of him still hurting from Izuku not being able to return his feelings.

This would probably be a date, if I did.

Which is odd to think about. Because in Izuku’s mind, dates usually would have to be going somewhere, and doing things away from home. Extra time that he doesn’t have, because he needs to be rested and prepared to do hero work at any time.

Even though, right now, he’s pretty much just a glorified secretary. There’s not much field work he can do with the uncertainty of his quirk.

But it’s fine! Because he’s still technically helping.

From just next to him, Kacchan asks, “How was your shift today?”

Izuku blinks. Oh god, did he really zone out during an All Might movie?

“It was fine—good! Endeavor let me patrol with Shouto for an hour, and then I went back to the agency and I scheduled the shifts for the heroes working next week.”

“…And you’re okay with that?”

What a strange question! Izuku is still allowed to patrol and work with heroes, so he’s more than okay with it.

(He does sometimes feel a lump in his throat when he thinks about what he could be doing—what he used to be able to do— but there’s no point in bringing it up. It’s in the past, and Izuku has to work with what he’s got in the present.)

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kacchan stares at him for a long time. Izuku watches him back, a little bit uneasy. It’s different from how Kacchan looks at him with fondness; there’s something deeper, calculating about this time.

Izuku wonders, what does Kacchan see? What is he trying to find?

He either finds it, or gives up searching, because then his attention shifts back to the screen.

“There’s a fuck up in this scene that’s always pissed me off,” he says.

Izuku knows the one, and jumps at the chance to talk about it. “I know exactly which one you mean! There,” the screen shows a recreation of All Might in his victory pose, but, “how did they possibly use the wrong arm?”

“Dumbasses didn’t do the research.”

“Apparently not, but I don’t get how they messed up something so obvious! Everyone knows All Might uses his left arm and—”

It’s nice to talk about All Might again. Izuku is able to let his mind and mouth just roll excitedly through the anecdotes, and Kacchan contributes every so often, but he lets Izuku just talk and talk and talk.

His mind is calm. Kacchan never looks annoyed, or interrupts.

And Izuku feels fine.

Classes are picking up even more. It seems that as society continues to heal, school gets closer and closer to how it was before the war.

It’s good. It doesn’t feel ridiculous at all. Why shouldn’t they have homework again, right? That just means that the heroes are doing their jobs well enough that the students can just be students, at least for a little while.

So it’s good.

Izuku’s knee-deep into an English essay when his door suddenly slams open. It’s not all that surprising that Kacchan is behind it.

“Sorry, did you want to watch another movie or something? I can’t tonight. I got back from the agency late and I need to finish the assignment from Present Mic’s class, but some of the verb conjugations are really messing me up.”

Kacchan doesn’t say anything to that. He just looks from the paper Izuku was writing on, and then back to Izuku. He does that staring thing, again. What could he possibly be searching for?

Kacchan then directs his attention to the desk where the essay is. Izuku tracks his finger as he drags it up and down the corner of the paper.

After a few moments suspended in silence, he asks, “Did you do the assignment Aizawa assigned?”

Izuku hopes he’s able to snuff the involuntary grimace before Kacchan sees it. He knows exactly which one he’s talking about.

Aizawa had given them a lecture about how he’s proud that they’re heroes, but now that the world is tentatively improving, they need to make sure to leave time to consider other things, too. That being a human is just as important. So, they’re making a list of goals they want to achieve in the next five years. One needs to be a career goal, but the other one is a personal goal, and both require a list of three things they’re going to do to get there.

Izuku hasn’t been able to manage writing anything on either side. But it’s fine—the assignment isn’t due until next week.

“Um… no, not yet. Did you?”

Instead of answering, Kacchan makes his way over to Izuku’s bed. Izuku twists in his chair to track his movements. He lays down, settling on top of the covers like he would if they were going to watch a movie or something.

But he doesn’t say anything. And Izuku doesn’t know what to say, either.

…So Izuku just turns in his chair and gets back to work.

He’s probably five or so sentences along into a new paragraph when Kacchan speaks again.

“Why haven’t you?”

The hand that Izuku’s been running through his hair, and the pencil that he’s been tapping against his cheek—both bodily reactions to the stress of nonsense English verb conjugations—suddenly stop. He swivels back around to talk to Kacchan more clearly. His eyes are intense, like always, and he’s lying on his side, watching Izuku in that way again.

“Why haven’t I what?”

“Done the assignment.”

Oh. He’s still talking about that.

Izuku looks down at his lap, and clasps his hands in his lap, twirling his thumbs around each other.

“Well, I think I’ll have to do two. One for if I keep my quirk long enough to be a pro, and another if… if I lose it before then. If I lose it, maybe I can go into something in the support course and go that route? I don’t know all that much about technology, but there’s no reason I couldn’t learn. Or maybe I could do something not on the tech side. Planning, scheduling… logistical stuff, I guess.”

Kacchan just keeps looking at him.

There’s something wrong, and Izuku can’t figure out what it is.

“Kacchan, are you alright? You’ve been, um, zoning out.”

Kacchan’s look turns into a glare. Then he just rolls over, not looking his way anymore, instead facing the wall.

“Just tired,” is all he offers.

For some reason, Izuku gets the feeling that Kacchan is mad at him.

“Kacchan, what’s wrong?”

He grumbles something, but Izuku can’t make out what it is.

Izuku gets up from his chair and gets closer to him. If there’s something bothering Kacchan, he wants to help.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

“Said ‘everything’s fine.’”

“Like I’d believe that,” Izuku says gently. Kacchan sounds upset—he’s probably pouting, but Izuku can’t see his face to confirm. So he scoots onto the bed, too. Not quite close enough to touch Kacchan, but as close as he can be in case Kacchan needs the reassurance. He looks up at the ceiling, waiting for him to share whenever he’s ready.

But, then, the next words that come out of Kacchan’s mouth are—

“Izuku, are you happy?”

Huh?

The bed shifts as Kacchan rolls back over, and Izuku shifts to face him, too. He’s so confused.

“Of course I am.” He says. Because he is. Why would Kacchan even ask—

“You’re lying.”

What the—

“No, I’m not.” Izuku hates the way he tenses, the way his tone goes defensive at the accusation. “I am happy. Besides, this isn’t about me. Something is clearly bothering you, Kacchan.”

Kacchan’s eyebrow twitches. Irritation, it must be.

Suddenly, he sits up and crawls over the foot of the bed, he stands up with his hand on his hip, and demands, “Get up. We’re going to the gym. Or Ground Beta, whichever.”

“Why?” What is happening?

“So I can kick your ass.”

“Why?!” Izuku scrambles to get up, completely confused and baffled at the turn of this conversation. “Kacchan, I don’t know why you’re upset. I don’t want to fight!”

Suddenly, Kacchan is yelling, “You never do, huh? You’d rather just bottle everything up and be miserable? Well fuck that, I won’t let you!”

“I’m not bottling things up! I’m fine!”

“Fat fucking lie, Izuku!”

Kacchan’s wrong. He’s wrong. Izuku is doing just fine.

Whatever’s bothering Kacchan is just causing him to lash out, Izuku reasons. That must be it. So he’s trying to goad Izuku into a fight to express it. He can’t believe Kacchan thinks this is somehow Izuku’s issue. He got to live his dream. He is happy.

He follows Kacchan only so he can prove it, and get to the root of his stress.

They don’t go to ground Beta this time, or the gym. In fact, they don’t make it too far from the dorms at all. There’s a clearing in the trees that’s just a few minutes away from campus, and it seems that that’s where Kacchan wants to hash it out. It’s already late enough that the sun is down, and so it’s lit only by the glowing of the moon and stars; the only sounds besides their footsteps in the grass are that of the frogs croaking and crickets chirping.

When Kacchan stops walking, things feel eerily similar to the last time they fought like this. He’s a few feet away, in front of Izuku. Calm in voice, but with rage in his eyes, Kacchan looks over his shoulder and asks, “How was work today?”

Izuku grits his teeth. Why drag him all the way out here just to ask that? He doesn’t know what the hell Kacchan wants from him.

“It was fine.” He knows that’s definitely not enough to satisfy whatever Kacchan wants, so he tells him, “I relayed information to the sidekicks as they were out on call to coordinate rescue efforts and a few minor scuffles. I also got to help address concerns of the public who submitted them to the agency.”

Kacchan growls, turning around now to face him. “Forget the facts, Deku. Stop talking like your relaying information in a mission. Tell me how you fucking feel.”

Izuku can feel his eyebrows pinch together. What is Kacchan talking about? Didn’t Izuku just do that? And why is he suddenly calling him Deku like it’s a curse?

The energy in the air is sparking, Kacchan’s eyes seem alight with fire.

“I just did, Kacchan. You’re not making sense.”

Kacchan throws a punch.

It’s nothing like he used to do. There’s no explosion behind it, of course, but also, it’s… unbalanced. The arm in his sling must throw off his weight, and his instincts don’t quite account for it yet. Izuku dodges with a quick side step, and Kacchan nearly topples over with the momentum of his own—

Wait, what the hell? They can’t fight, Kacchan is still injured!

“Kacchan,” he feels major déjà vu when he holds his hands up in a placating gesture, “We really shouldn’t be fighting! Let’s just talk—“

Kacchan catches himself with his feet, using it then to swivel around and try to throw another punch. This time, Izuku ducks to get out of the way.

“Hah!” That laugh sounds wrong. Now that he knows how gentle Kacchan can be, it feels too harsh. “‘Talk’, as if! You wouldn’t know how!”

He’s not making sense again. Izuku dodges another fist.

“We were talking just fine before you brought us out here! What is your problem?”

Kacchan scoffs, “My problem? You think this is my problem? Friendship is a two-way street, Deku, so why the fuck am I the only one always sharing emotional shit?”

It’s the first clue he’s thrown out this whole evening as to what his point is with all of this. If he’s talking about emotions— Is he embarrassed because of his breakdown a few days back? Of crying in front of Izuku? That’s gotta be it. Or maybe, this is his frustration with Izuku not reciprocating his feelings, and his anger just now exploded.

Well, either way it’s not Izuku’s fault. He has no right to target him, to tell him that he’s not carrying his weight in this friendship. Their friendship means so much to Izuku, it means the world to him, so how dare he accuse him of such a thing?

Izuku is shaking. He feels mean, and mad, and he doesn’t want to be, he doesn’t want to fight, but Kacchan keeps pushing all his buttons.

Izuku. Is. Fine.

He tells Kacchan in a low voice, “You just want to fight because it’s the only way you know how to solve your own issues.”

It’s mean. Izuku doesn’t mean to be, but he’s pissed. And he gets even angrier, for some reason, when Kacchan doesn’t fight back to such a rude comment. He doesn’t raise to the bait at all.

Instead, he stands steady, and strong. He looks Izuku directly in the eyes, and starts talking, scarily calm.

“I’ve got a heart that’s been glued back together a dozen times,” he says, and Izuku’s mind and heart scream at the sudden reminder, “but you’ve got a heart too damn big for your own chest. So here’s your chance to share it. Let off some of that load. Let me help you.”

“I don’t need help!” He yells into Kacchan’s face. He’s not listening—

This time, Izuku catches the punch Kacchan tried to throw. He holds that shaking hand and doesn’t let it connect with his chest the way it was intended to.

Kacchan looks angry, now. He looks at where their hands are, suspended with bother their forces unwilling to yield to each other’s. Izuku could overwhelm him, or kick him, or knock him over with a sweep to his legs, but he’s choosing not to, and Kacchan knows that. He sneers at Izuku.

“What, you forget how to actually fight or something? Or are you looking down on me?”

How dare he? Izuku can’t believe he even tried that old line.

“I’ve never looked down on you, you know that! And you’re not fully cleared to—”

“You think I’m some kind of weakling now, Deku? Huh? Is that it?”

How could he possibly still think that? Kacchan and weak could never belong in the same sentence. He’s always been talented, and strong, and amazing.

“You’re strong, Kacchan!” He shouts, “You have no idea what it’s like to be weak!”

“Then TELL ME!” This time, Kacchan doesn’t hit, he just shoves, but the scream seems to echo and rattle through Izuku’s mind.

Izuku is breathing hard, even though he hasn’t been hitting back.

What it feels like to be weak? He really wants to know? The pity in the eyes, and fake reassurance in the voices? They way everyone keeps looking at him? The way it makes him want to scream and cry and vomit? They know he did his very best, they know how hard he worked at being a hero, but everyone keeps saying—

“It’s okay to take it easy, Midoriya.” “Don’t push too hard, Deku.” “Don’t worry about us!”

It’s all been the same the same the same, ever since the hospital, ever since he was told he’ll be—

Quirkless. Again.

And now it feels like everyone’s patting his head and making him sit down and watch, play pretend just like he did in elementary and middle school. Like they’ve given up on him before he’s even started. Everyone, even—

“You want to know how it feels?! Fine then, Kaccchan!” He screams, right at him, loud and direct, “When the fight was over, when I really thought about it, my chest kept feeling like it was going to burst because—how could my dream just be ripped away like this? I worked so hard! That was my quirk! But then I thought, how dare I even think that, when I at least had the chance to act out my dream for a little while—I should be grateful! And I am! But now everyone’s treating me like some pity project and it pisses me off!”

He shoves him back, and then points an accusing finger, “Even you! What you said in the hospital! Why can’t I keep competing with you even if I might lose my quirk? Am I that powerless to you again? That’s how I fucking feel! Is that what you wanted to hear, Dynamight?”

He spits the hero name out like poison.

And on his next gasp for air, shame hits him like a truck.

Oh god, he thinks, stomach filling with dread, did I really just say that?

“I—I didn’t mean—”

“And yet you’ve been talking like being a pro is impossible, now.”

Whatever Izuku expected Kacchan to say after such an outburst, it certainly wasn’t that.

Kacchan still sounds angry, though. And Izuku’s getting tired of the way he’s being played. At the way Kacchan still isn’t listening.

“I’m just being realistic—"

“And that’s the fucking thing, Izuku,” Kacchan interrupts, forcing his way into Izuku’s space again, forcing their foreheads together in a half-done headbutt and then staying there so he can yell directly into Izuku’s face, glare directly into his eyes. “You’re going to tell me that after all your hard work, after saving the entire damn world, you’re just going to give up on yourself? You’d be happy just sitting on the sidelines? Doing logistics and support?”

“YES!” Izuku screams, still not wanting to punch or kick. He instead grabs at the fabric of the front of Katsuki’s shirt, and pulls, trying to make him understand, “I would be! I was lucky enough to live out my dream!”

“You can still be a hero!”

Ice suddenly fills Izuku’s veins. No. Even more than that. Ice fills his soul.

Those words, the ones All Might told him so long ago, the ones that used to bring him so much hope, they’re not believable anymore. He wants Kacchan to stop talking.

Don’t say those words. Don’t lie to me like that.

But Kacchan keeps talking, and Izuku struggles to breathe.

“You’ve been a hero to me since I fell in the river when I was fucking five years old! Did you have a quirk then, huh? Did you have a quirk when you saved me from the Sludge Villain? No, so cut that shit out! You can be a hero, you are a hero, quirk or no quirk! Be mad as hell, scream it out, but don’t give up on yourself, Izuku!”

Something snaps.

Izuku tackles him. Someone roars, and it must’ve been him, because his throat suddenly feels torn and raw. When they land on the hard ground, Kacchan tugs on his hair, Izuku pulls on his cheek. They roll and grapple the whole time. It’s not gentle. Izuku is angry.

Because that’s not what he’s doing. Right? He just has to consider the facts. And that facts are that he’ll likely end up quirkless before he graduates high school.

He can’t be a hero, anymore. Not when everyone’s coddling him. Not when his friends won’t rely on him. Not when he no longer has All Might’s precious gift. He’s not giving up, the situation is just helpless!

They don’t have the breath to shout at each other anymore. It’s just all scraps of physical prowess, an immensely dulled version of what they’ve done before, but it hurts in all the same ways. Maybe even worse.

There’s a jab to his ribs, and then Izuku’s elbow connects with Kacchan’s face. Kacchan grunts as the impact, but then kicks at Izuku’s shin. It causes Izuku to lose his balance, and then they tumble over each other in a roll, pulling at each other’s clothes the whole way. Knees collide with stomachs, nails scratch at any skin they can reach, Kacchan looks like he’d bite him if he could.

Something red, really red, not just the angry red Izuku’s been seething in, catches his eye.

On one final roll, he slams his hand down on Kacchan’s shoulder, and his legs across Kacchan’s in a pin. It’s just like when they fought at Ground Beta, except Izuku’s on top this time. Kacchan looks up at him with a snarl.

Kacchan’s lip is split. It’s bleeding one sluggish drop right down the center.

Izuku’s not just pissed. He’s fucking livid.

“Why did you make me fight you?” He growls, holding Kacchan’s face steady by the chin. “Why did you let me hurt you?”

Katsuki doesn’t say anything. He just stares, breathing heavy gasps, with his fist clenched and his eyes holding all the fury that he can’t release anymore. There’s dirt all over his cheeks, and a bead of sweat rolls down from his temple to behind his ear, and that line of red keeps trailing down further from his bottom lip.

In between angry heaves, Izuku brain suddenly thinks—

I want to kiss him.

Everything hits Izuku all at once.

The fact that he let Kacchan get to him and started fighting back. The fact that he hurt Kacchan enough to bleed. The fact that Kacchan was right about Izuku bottling up everything. The fact that Kacchan knew  that he’s absolutely not fine. The fact that Kacchan’s right here, underneath him, looking as beautiful as he is furious.

It’s too much. It’s too much.

Izuku jumps up, and gets the hell out of there.

A few days pass. Izuku avoids Kacchan as much as he can. He doesn’t feel good about it.

In fact, he feels terrible about it. It’s a gut-wrenching type of terrible that feels awful with every passing second.

Izuku’s going to have to apologize, but he’s too confused right now. His mind’s all over the place.

And his heart hurts too much when, during class, he sees a bruise forming on Kacchan’s cheek. Izuku has one to match on his stomach.

He feels so guilty.

Because Kacchan was so right. Izuku hasn’t let himself think about those terrible, awful things that he’s been feeling. Because they feel gross. And wrong. And too real.

But fighting with Kacchan pulled that out of him. The rawness of it, the anger and the confusion all together, it made him stop getting in his own way, and actually voice them.

Izuku had all the means to become a hero, given to him by some chance of fate. And it consumed him, day and night, and he chose to give it up, and he doesn’t regret it, it was the only way to defeat Shigaraki, who he couldn’t even really save, but—

It sucks. To know that that power he had is fading. It really, really sucks.

It’s all he ever wanted. It was right there, in his hands, in his grasp, and now… it’s not.

Had he really given up on himself?

Maybe.

…But maybe he shouldn’t have.

Because he doesn’t want to leave the Hero Course. He doesn’t want his friends to leave him behind. He doesn’t want to watch from the sidelines. Izuku wants to be a hero. And he wants to fight alongside his classmates, and Kacchan, to keep striving for a better world.

Kacchan had said…

So maybe he can actually…

Maybe there is another way, some other path that will still let him live his dream.

So now he’s thinking about that, and what it all means. Kacchan was right. If he hadn’t had the sense literally knocked into him, he likely would’ve kept all those emotions buried until he snapped, or died. Whichever came first.

Then, there’s the other thing that he has to think about.

…Kissing Kacchan.

Each time he thinks about it, his heart picks up. He thinks of Kacchan’s cocky smirk when he does something well, and then imagines how it would feel pressed up again his own mouth. Would Kacchan be rough when he’s kissed? Would he be soft? Would he bite and tug and lick and smile and—

Yeah, okay, it’d probably be really nice to kiss Kacchan. But is that the same thing as loving—um, liking someone? The same way Kacchan feels about him? Izuku’s not sure; this is too new. He’s never had to think about things like this.

He doesn’t know if he can handle thinking about everything at once, but at least he is thinking about things now. Or trying to, at least.

And one thing in particular stands out.

He misses Kacchan. So much. He misses breakfast with him, and movies with him, and just being with him. He misses seeing his smile, his frown, the pinch of his eyebrows when he’s thinking—all of it.

But he just can’t quite figure out how to reach out to him quite yet, or how to apologize. He feels like he needs to sort through at least part of everything jumbling through his brain, first, that way he can prove to Kacchan that he really is trying to be more open.

The reality is that Izuku messed up, and he still needs to figure out how to make up with Kacchan in the best way possible.

How could he just go causally to make breakfast with him when he can’t even figure out his own emotions? That’s not fair to Kacchan.

Then again, avoiding him probably isn’t fair either.

Ugh. Emotions are hard.

…Izuku still hasn’t done Aizawa’s assignment. It sits on his desk, taunting him. Like it did before their fight.

Goals, goals, goals—career and personal. The future. Plans. Wants. Goals, goals, goals.

He can’t sleep.

It’s a few nights after their fight, and even though it’s nearing one in the morning, he can’t get his eyes to close.

It’s not that his mind is racing. It’s actually the opposite. It’s like he tries to think about things, but then his brain forcibly throws him out on the door step and shuts the door on him.

He wants to think about things, to keep sorting through his thoughts, but his mind keeps hitting the breaks the second he steps on the gas. It used to just be go go go, and the vestiges of the past users would be there adding comments, advice, and everything between. And now there’s nothing. It’s so quiet, so empty.

It’s frustrating. It makes him feel like he needs to be doing something other than laying in his bed, unable to sleep and unable to think.

So he gets up with a tired sigh, and heads down to the kitchen to get a glass of water, hoping that maybe that’ll give him some sort of reprieve from the stillness of his mind and room.

He runs into Kirishima, who’s already holding a glass of water and heading back to the elevator. “Oh, hey man!” he greets Izuku, but it sounds off.

It’s late to be out in the common room, even for a night owl like him. Something must be wrong.

“Hey, Kirishima. You also needed a drink?” He asks, gesturing at the water.

Kirishima runs a hand through his hair before explaining, “It’s not for me. It’s just, uh, Mina’s having a rough night.”

“Oh,” and then Izuku has to ask, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

After a few seconds of thinking, Kirishima seems to come to a decision. “She’d probably like the company, if you’re up for it.”

Of course Izuku is. He wants to help, in any way that he can.

When they get to Kirishima’s room, but before they step in, Izuku looks over at the one next to it for a second. He wonders if Kacchan is asleep, or if he’s tormented at this time of night, too.

Kirishima opens his door just slightly, announcing quietly, “Hey, I brought a friend.”

Izuku follows him in, and is a little unprepared for the hug he immediately finds himself in.

“Midoriya!” Ashido cries.

Izuku’s helpless to do anything other than hug her back. It takes a few seconds for Ashido to step back, and she wipes her tears and apologizes for crying and jumping on him so suddenly.

“No need to worry, I promise I don’t mind,” Izuku assures her.

They end up sitting down on the floor, kneeling on some pillows. It appears that Ashido just really needs companionship and conversation, at the moment.

“What was your favorite thing we learned in Ms. Midnight’s class?” She asks him.

Izuku blinks, a little caught off guard at the question. He doesn’t usually let himself think about her, because thinking about her being gone, forever, causes something akin to nausea to stir in his gut. It’s the same when it comes to thinking about Nighteye.

Ashido, on the other hand, is amazing. She wears her emotions so clearly on her sleeve, and Izuku admires her for that. It’s a strength he doesn’t have at the moment.

“I… don’t think I could narrow it down to just one thing. She was so passionate about art, it kind of made us interested in everything, right?”

She grabs onto a tissue Kirishima hands her way, and dabs at her tears as she says, “I know exactly what you mean.”

“Yeah!” Kirishima agrees excitedly. “I’ve never really been into art, and I don’t get a lot of it, but she made everything so interesting and easy to understand.”

They talk for a while about other things about her and her class that made them smile, or caught their attention. It’s after each of them has talked about a few things that Ashido’s voice turns sad, and wistful.

“I wish we could tell her all this,” she says.

Izuku’s stomach feels heavy. It’s uncomfortable. But he wants to be here for Ashido, so he needs to push through.

And maybe, he needs this for himself, too. Thinking about what Kacchan had said, it’s highly possible that he’s been bottling up these emotions in addition to his grief about his quirk.

But that doesn’t make it any easier. Something seizes at his lungs as Ashido keeps talking about sadness and loss, because he’ll be fine, he’ll manage, just as long as she doesn’t bring up—

She looks at her hands as she explains, “Sometimes, who we lost just hits me really hard, y’know? And then, sometimes I think we were damn close to losing so many others, too. I mean, even Bakugou was—”

She cuts herself off, and Kirishima pulls her into a hug when she starts crying again. Kirishima’s crying too.

This is also something Izuku hasn’t let himself think about it. Absolutely not. Because out of everything he’s been through, everything he’s seen, he doesn’t know how he’d recover if he thought of this, specifically.

But now he’s here, and someone’s said it out loud. He can’t avoid it, they’re not dancing around it anymore, Izuku has to face it.

He suddenly feels like his insides have been carved out.

Suddenly all of the “what ifs” come flying to the forefront of his mind. What if Kacchan really hadn’t made it through that day? What if Kacchan died on that battle field and never woke up? What if Kacchan was gone, unable to be reached for all eternity?

He thinks about what everyone would have to go through if those “what ifs” were true. He thinks about Auntie Mitsuki crying while looking through memory books. About cleaning out everything from the room next door to Kirishima’s. About the empty seat in front of him in class that would’ve been filled with someone else one day. About his own future, his own life, without Kacchan beside him.

And Izuku shakes. He can barely breathe under the weight of the thought of such emptiness.

Ashido seems to be falling asleep in Kirishima’s arms, exhausted after such an emotional night, so now’s his chance to get out. He gives Kirishima what he hopes is a comforting smile, and it gets returned with a similar one and a thumbs up. Izuku takes that as a cue that he’s okay to go.

When he leaves Kirishima’s room, he doesn’t go far. He can’t. His feet carry him to the next door, and plant themselves there.

It’s not empty. It’s not. Kacchan’s still here, Kacchan’s still fighting, Kacchan’s still alive.

Right? Right? He has to be. He is.

He almost wasn’t.

Before he can stop himself, the racket in his mind takes over all reason. He knocks on the door.

There’s no immediate response.

 It’s after midnight, he tries to reason with himself, he’s probably just asleep.

But what if he’s not? What if his heart stopped in the middle of the night? What if he’s been dead this whole time?  What if the body he saw on the battlefield, the one he hasn’t let himself think about, what if it’s there on the bed, cold, bloody, lifeless—

The knocks become frantic, and Izuku wheezes, choking on what should’ve been an inhale.

Then, suddenly, the door opens.

“What?”

Oh. He’s here.

He’s awake, and he’s alive. He looks grumpy. And then his eyes go wide in surprise. Izuku probably woke him up. And his chest rises and falls, so he’s breathing, and he’s standing, so his heart must be beating.

“Kacchan,” Izuku croaks, “you died.”

And then, after saying that terrible, horrible word, he can’t hold himself together anymore.

He sobs. Big, heaving cries that shake his whole body. He feels like he’s falling apart.

“You died, you died, and I was too late, I couldn’t save you!”

He needs more than just seeing him, he needs proof that he’s alive, because what if he’s not actually here, what if Izuku’s mind is playing tricks on him and Kacchan’s dead and—?

Warmth envelops him. Through the sobs, he manages to realize that Kacchan has pushed himself so that they’re chest to chest, and Izuku’s already clinging to him. Kacchan’s functioning hand grabs Izuku’s and holds it between them, pressing it to where his heart is beating.

“I’m here. I’m alive,” he tells Izuku, but Izuku’s shaking his head.

“But you almost weren’t!” He wheezes, more tears falling, “Kacchan, what if I had to go to your funeral? What if you were gone forever? I can’t—”

“Hey,” Kacchan grabs and squeezes, not letting him break away for even a second, and tells him, looking right into Izuku’s tear-filled eyes, promising once again, “the rest of our lives, yeah? I’m not gonna leave you, Izuku.”

And Izuku wants to believe him. He sounds so sure, so confident, but Izuku is terrified that it’s not true. He can’t lose Kacchan, he just can’t.

Kacchan lets him cry onto his shoulder for a while, holding him steady and keeping him from shattering apart. Eventually, he starts walking them backwards, closing the door with his foot.

He gets Izuku settled and sitting on the bed, but he’s still not pulling away, maybe by choice, but maybe because Izuku’s hold is just that desperate. To keep the contact, Kacchan puts one leg on each side of Izuku’s hips, half-kneeling, half-seating himself on Izuku’s lap, still facing him.

With firm, but gentle hands, he guides Izuku’s head down, and places his ear on his chest so he can hear the steady thumps of his heart beat.

Thump thump thump

Izuku is so relieved. He’s still scrambling for air, and not willing to let go, but this is irrefutable proof that he’s alive. He wraps his own arms tight around Kacchan’s back.

Kacchan Kacchan Kacchan, his mind says on repeat, repetitive like the heartbeat he can hear clearly, now.

They sit there and breathe for a long while. Until Izuku’s cries recede, and until his legs go numb from poor circulation. Not that he’d change a thing, because holding Kacchan like this, once his mind slows down enough to appreciate it, is amazing. So comforting. Exactly what Izuku needed.

He can’t believe he’s been stupid enough to avoid Kacchan the last few days. Not when he needs him like he needs air.

Is this how Kacchan feels, too?

“I’m sorry,” he eventually manages to gasp into Kacchan’s shirt, “I’m sorry for getting mad at you. I understand why we fought now. You were right, I wasn’t thinking about how I actually felt. I’ve been lying to myself to convince myself that I’m fine, but I’m not. I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I didn’t to get to apologize for that before waking you up tonight, so—”

“The hell are you apologizing for?” Kacchan’s chest rumbles with the gruffness of his voice, even though he doesn’t sound mad at all. “Think of all the times I flipped out and took my emotions out on you. This is nothin’.”

Izuku is so lucky. Of course Kacchan understands.

Izuku breathes a deep breath. He feels Kacchan do the same. He feels okay, now. He takes his ear away from Kacchan’s heartbeat, assured of its continuation for the time being.

He makes sure Kacchan knows, “You aren’t in debt for any of that.”

Kacchan takes the opportunity to lightly flick at Izuku’s forehead. Izuku doesn’t even wince, knowing it’s not intended as anything mean or harmful. It’s more playful than anything.

“Just like you aren’t in debt for this.”

Hah, Izuku laughs to himself, we’re both so stubborn.

Izuku probably looks like a mess. He’s sure his eyes are red and puffy, and his hair is probably all over the place. The scars on his face are probably red and angry after rubbing against the fabric of Kacchan’s shirt.

But Kacchan’s looking at him like he’s amazing, like he’s something more than worthy of watching. He has this gentle tilt to his eyes, and his lips.

Izuku decides he really, really likes the way Kacchan looks at him.

“Kacchan,” he says, and looks him in the eyes, promising, “I am going to be the world’s greatest hero. No matter what.”

Kacchan’s smile. God. Izuku likes it so much.

This time, when he thinks I want to kiss him, it doesn’t startle him in the slightest. The thought isn’t scary at all.

“There’s the Izuku I know,” Kacchan says, sounding so pleased and happy. It feels so right, having him here. To hold and be held. Smiling, and content.

He can’t help by respond with, “And that’s my Kacchan.”

He wasn’t thinking when he said that. The words just fell out of his mouth, almost carelessly, as his mind is too tired to stop them. But the reaction to the comment captures Izuku’s attention immediately.

Kacchan blushes and turns away, like he wants to hide his face, but he’s still holding onto Izuku. So Kacchan decides to let him go all at once, flopping backwards onto his bed, trying to get the redness of his cheeks out of Izuku’s sight.

Izuku is fascinated with this blush-y, embarrassed Kacchan.

After a moment, Kacchan sighs, and rubs his hand over his face.

“The way you say things like that—It, it makes me feel like you might— Like it’s possible that—” he cuts himself off, sighing out a tired, “nevermind.”

Izuku feels kind of bad. It did probably sound beyond platonic, but Izuku’s come to realize that so are his feelings for Kacchan.

But now isn’t quite the right time to tell him that. He’s at least aware enough to acknowledge that.

If he said something right now, he doubts Kacchan would fully believe him. Not after the emotional turmoil of tonight, and the last few days.

Besides, it’s already so late, and both of them are exhausted. Izuku doesn’t know if he could find all the right words tonight. He’s not sure of what the words might even be, yet.

No. If Izuku’s going to confess, he needs to be absolutely confident in his feelings, and what he’s going to say. He needs Kacchan to know, without a doubt, how he feels about him.

So it can’t be tonight.

But—

“Kacchan,” he calls, getting the man’s attention on him again. And with all the gratitude he can muster, he says, “Thank you. For everything.” He feels like there’s at least one more thing he wants Kacchan to know tonight, so he smiles, adding, “You’re the best.”

Kacchan rolls his eyes at the words, but his smirk betrays his satisfaction.

“And don’t you forget it.”

After the last few days, Izuku is confident that he likes Kacchan in more than just a platonic way. Even though he’s never felt this way for anyone before, it seems wildly obvious now, because Izuku keeps catching himself watching his mouth as he talks, or thinking about hugging him while he cooks breakfast, or dreaming about holding him until they both fall asleep, or wanting to kiss down his chest—

Ahem.

Um. Yeah. So he definitely likes Kacchan.

But regardless, there’s still so many things that seem to try to hold him back. Old insecurities, new questions, and reliable anxiety. After all, he’s been drilling it into his own head ever since he got One For All that romantic relationships were always going to be out of the question for him.

He needs some advice. And he knows exactly who he wants to talk to about this.

Izuku has a cup of tea in his hands and a whole lot on his mind. He had texted All Might that morning, asking if he had time to chat later, and the answer was a resounding, “Of course, my boy! Just let me know when!”

It feels very much like old times. They’re in the same room of U.A. that they used to meet in to discuss One For All.  But now, the topic Izuku wants to discuss is nothing of the sort. It’s something that seems so juvenile in comparison, and yet, it causes just as much swirling in his gut as when he was trying to figure his quirk out.

After exchanging basic pleasantries, Izuku asks the question weighing heavily on his mind.

“All Might, do you have any regrets?”

If the man is surprised by such an upfront question, he doesn’t show it. All Might’s voice is soft but reassuring, as it often is these days.

“Well, yes. Lots. It’s part of being human.” He sets his own cup of tea down, and settles deeper into the cushions. “Why are you asking, my boy?”

Izuku runs that over in his mind for a second, before responding.

“You’ve told be before that that hardest part of being a hero is knowing you can’t save anyone. I know exactly how that feels, now.”

He really, really does. But this conversation needs to steer away from that, because what Izuku actually wants to know about this time is different.

“…But I want to know if you have any regrets on a… personal level, I guess? I mean, I followed your whole career, I feel like I know almost everything about you now, and still. I’ve never heard you talk about personal interests, or things outside of being a hero.” Oh shoot, but maybe there’s a reason for that, he suddenly realizes.  “But if it’s too personal, please disregard the question!”

All Might chuckles lightly, and it instantly eases the brief stress of thinking he may have overstepped.

“Ah,” he breathes, taking Izuku’s question into consideration. “In that case, I do have one specific regret. It’s a big one, though.”

Izuku leans in, so curious to hear.

“In my quest to become a symbol, I neglected to find things valuable that weren’t hero work. That’s not exactly healthy, as I know now. I never considered a relationship, or family, or what would come after if I made it to retirement. Not that that’s everyone’s ideas of happiness, of course!  But specifically, with Nighteye…”

Izuku feels his chest squeeze at the name, and at the way All Might’s voice becomes somber. He seems to need a moment before he picks up speaking again.

“…I don’t know if we would’ve become anything, but I do wish I had thought of his feelings more. Maybe I should’ve slowed down bit, like he said. Then, maybe everyone would be in a better place.”

Izuku feels very sad. Sometimes, he still forgets that his hero is a human, not an invincible being immune to negativity and sadness.

He tells him, “I don’t think he ever held it against you, All Might.” After all, Sir Nighteye had only ever talked positively about him.

All Might smiles, but it’s not quite happy. “I don’t think he did, either. But still, I do regret that I never took the time to really sort out my own feelings about it. I was so hero focused, and I knew from my master that any name attached to mine would become a target for All for One, so I scrapped the idea altogether. But Young Midoriya,” he places one large, frail hand onto Izuku’s shoulder, “in these last few years, I’ve come to this realization: Love is always worth it. Whether it’s the love of a mentor, a friend, a family member, or partner. If it’s what all parties involved want, it’s worth it.”

Izuku lets that wash over him for a second. It’s such a warm, optimistic thought. One that he wouldn’t have been able to fathom just a few weeks ago, but now, it sounds so right. He feels like his brain is rewiring itself to fit that idea close, keep it cozy and safe, instead of pushing it out like it always did before.

 “Young Midoriya,” All Might’s smile is more genuine now, more cheeky, “pardon my intrusiveness, but may I ask, do you have a crush on someone?”

Izuku can feel his face go red as he franticly denies, “No nononono nothing like that! Or maybe it is?” He loses momentum, forces himself to take a breath and settle. “I don’t know yet, All Might. I’m trying to figure it all out.”

All Might hums, sitting back. He lifts his tea back up, blowing on the top of it to cool it down some more. Then, he tells Izuku, “You have is a heart so large and caring, it’s incredible. Maybe sharing it won’t be such a bad thing.”

Kacchan had said something similar during their fight. Izuku can’t help the smile he feels tugging at his lips. He feels calmer than he has in a long time. If only…

“One more thing…” He finds himself starting. There’s still a question that he’s been dying to ask, but dreading the response.

“Yes?”

“Do… Do you think I can still be a hero, even without a quirk?”

He almost wants to laugh at himself as he hears the squeakiness of his own voice, just like when he asked All Might the same question years ago. When All Might told him no.

But this time…

“When I answered you the first time, I truly believed what I said. I was clouded by my own poor judgment, but then you inspired me. You rushed out to save your friend. You motivated me to move, to keep fighting, before you even had a quirk. I’ve seen you grow and mature before my eyes. I’ve seen your heart and soul, and the dedication you have to others. Young Midoriya,” this time, Izuku’s hero puts his hands on both of his shoulders, and says with upmost confidence, “You can still be a hero. I have no doubts about that, no matter what happens.”

Izuku can’t help the way his eyes well up with tears. It fills in a part of his soul that he’s been so afraid to address, but now he’s had confirmation from the two most important heroes in his life.

So now, he feels like he can actually believe it.

He sniffles, and utters a watery, “Thank you everything, All Might.”

“Anytime, my boy.” All Might leans back against the cushions again, and the serious, emotional atmosphere fades away into something more casual.

 All Might asks, just a few moments later, “Now, who is this lucky person that you’ve got in your sights?”

When Izuku says the name, All Might spits out the sip of tea he’d just taken. It makes Izuku laugh, freely and truly, even as All Might apologizes for his unprofessional reaction.

Yeah, Izuku was just as surprised at first.

But now, he feels surer by the second. It’s actually not that surprising at all, really thinking about it.

No. It’s not surprising. It’s just right.

He’d left the conversation with All Might feeling so settled, but when he’d gotten back to his room, he was suddenly faced with reality.

The reality of two things.

One: he needs to figure the extent of his feelings for Kacchan, and how to confess.

Two: in order to keep his promise to Kacchan and himself, he needs to figure out how he can still be a hero.

There’s a box underneath his bed that his mom sent with him when he first moved into the dorms. Within it, it has every journal Izuku’s kept since he developed the ability to write. He’s sure he’s come up with something before, something in there, that was for himself as a future hero. There must be something in there, too, for if he never got a quirk.

He’s always wanted to be a hero, no matter what. He’s never going to give up on that dream.

He knows his more recent notebooks have mostly only notes on pros he’d been observing, with some pages for workout routines and the like, so he goes as far back as he can.

There’s one from his first year of elementary school.

“Hero stuf for the Futre!” It says on the cover, written in bright crayon and with spelling mistakes all throughout. It makes Izuku chuckle at his younger self.

Even if there’s probably nothing truly helpful in this specific book, he can’t help but flip it open to the first page.

The first page of the notebook has a 5-year old’s drawn rendition of the All Might card Izuku still has today. And then it has lots of variations of “All Might is so cool!” “The greatest hero!” and everything else about the number one hero. There are star stickers littered all over the page, completely chaotic and unorganized.

The page right after that was clearly written by his mother, because the handwriting isn’t chicken scratch—instead, it’s perfectly formed letters. It’s a list of hero names he had apparently brainstormed for himself, all of which play off of “All Might.” It makes him cringe a bit, but he also feels a fluttery warmth in his chest at the memories. He’s always been a fanboy—a “damned nerd” as Kacchan would say.

He turns to the third page, and immediately knows it’s an important one.

There are short, barely formed sentences, written by little Izuku.

Today I met Kacchan.

He is very loud.

I think he will be a good hero.

He likes All Might too!

Then, there’s a drawing, of two stick figures. One has spiky hair, and the other has curly hair, and both have capes, but they look like they were drawn by two different hands.

There’s a little arrow next to it, pointing to the description “Izuku and Kacchan” which also look like two different people wrote them.

Izuku realizes that, if it says their names, he and Kacchan must’ve each signed the drawing after sketching their future selves. His heart swells. He wonders if Kacchan remembers this, because Izuku doesn’t, but he wishes he did.

The fourth page has some words about his day at school, that he likes the teacher because she’s nice and reminds him of his mom, and then there’s more about Kacchan.

Me and Kacchan both want to be heros!

I hope we can be friens forever

Be still his heart. Izuku wishes he could tell past him that everything will come true one day, no matter how hard things get sometimes. He wishes he could give him a big hug, too.

This time, the drawing is of two stick figures with their “hands” connected, and it looks like Izuku drew this one solo.

At the very bottom of the page, it says:

Secret… i want to marry Kacchan one day

Izuku slams the notebook shut as his face starts to burn. He groans into his hands as they come up to cover his mouth and rub at his face.

Izuku is suddenly face to face which how much of an idiot he is. It’s all so clear now.

Of course Kacchan’s always been special to him. He’s loved him since they were four years old!

That’s why even when Kacchan was so mean, Izuku could never stay away. That’s why he starts imitating him when he’s fighting to win. That’s why his attention has always been draw to him, even in a crowd. That’s why blackwhip released when it did. That’s why he flew into a rage when Shigaraki hurt him.

It all makes so much sense!

Izuku’s loved him this entire time!

He must’ve not realized it because it was so natural for him. It’s practically part of his DNA at this point. And after he was told he was quirkless, Kacchan just seemed so unattainable, so far ahead, so he could never let himself even dream about him in a romantic light. He’d given up so long ago that he failed to recognize his own feelings.

But now, it’s so obvious to Izuku how much he wants him, in every possible way.

…And Kacchan wants him, too.

Izuku may or may not scream into his pillow.

A little bit of the scream is excitement, but also a little bit of the panic of oh my god I turned Kacchan down even though I’m in love with him.

He really is a moron when it comes to his own feelings.

With this life-changing information, Izuku is absolutely determined to make everything right. In fact, as soon as possible. He suddenly feels really impatient—he wants them to be together now.

He just needs a game plan.

If he’s going to convince Kacchan of his feelings, he has to be confident. Kacchan’s already decided that this is a losing battle, apparent by the words he used when he confessed. And Izuku was an idiot who rejected him because he didn’t realize he’s literally loved him since they were kids.

He needs to tell him with more than just words, he needs to show him just how much he wants this. How much he wants him. Kacchan’s a man of action, so if Izuku can prove it in that way, he’ll be more likely to succeed.

His eyes drift over to the paper on his desk, and suddenly, he’s got a plan.

He fishes out his phone from his pocket, then finds his and Kacchan’s text conversations.

(When he sees Kacchan’s name at the top of the screen, he’s tempted to edit it and add a heart right then and there, but he tells himself to slow down until he’s actually told him, first.)

Want to hang in my room? He sends.

Then, following that: … I may need help with an assignment

Less than a minute passes before he gets a response. Thank god, because Izuku would’ve stared at his screen for who knows how long. (He’s just really excited, okay? And nervous! But mostly excited.)

Loser

And then: I’ll be there in 10

Perfect.

By the time those ten minutes are up and Izuku’s door slams open with a kick, he’s already finished preparing.

“Hey, Kacchan,” he says, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as anxious as he feels.

Kacchan grunts as a greeting (it’s painfully cute), and then immediately demands to know, “What’s the stupid assignment you need help with?”

Izuku takes the sheets of paper off his desk, holding them in his (a little bit shaky) hands.

“I actually finished the assignment, but I wanted your opinion on my answers.”

Kacchan must sense his nervousness, now, because he looks at Izuku for a long while with a raised eyebrow. But doesn’t make any comments about it.

Instead, he seats himself on Izuku’s bed, and gives him his full attention.

“Alright. Shoot.”

“Okay, so, I finally finished Aizawa’s assignment. I had such a hard time before, because I had convinced myself that hero work was all that mattered, and I wouldn’t be able to do it anymore. You showed me that that’s not true, though. So I finally figured it out.” Izuku smiles easily, despite the anxiety.

 Kacchan must see the genuineness of it, though, because his lips quirk upwards, too.

With a deep breath, Izuku begins reading.

“My career goal is to become a pro hero. Even more than that, I want to become the greatest hero in the world. Here’s how I’m going to achieve that goal:

“Step 1: I’m going to talk with the support course, specifically Hatsume Mei, to see if there are materials that can replicate my past quirks. That way, I can utilize my previous work to my advantage as I transition into the future circumstances. I’d like to focus on my Air Force and Black Whip first, as those seem like the most achievable routes to recreate at the start.

“Step 2: Continue my schoolwork and my workout regime. Attending U.A. High has given me so many opportunities to learn and experience things that will help me in my journey to be a pro hero. It’s not always easy, but I will continue to do my best. As for working out, maintaining my strength is crucial, no matter what my future circumstances may be, so I won’t fall behind.”

Before he reads the next one, Izuku looks up from his writing to see Kacchan’s face. He wants to see his reaction, whatever expression it may be.

And his whole body fills with pleasant butterflies when he does, because Kacchan looks so proud. It gives him the confidence to read the third step.

“And finally,” he says, “Step 3: Ask Kacchan if he wants to be hero partners. Ever since we were kids, we both wanted to be like All Might, and we both wanted to be heroes. I can think of no better way of achieving that than being by each other’s side. We’ll be able to challenge each other and support each other through anything that comes our way.”

When he looks up this time, Katsuki looks a little caught off guard. But when his expression settles, he looks really, really pleased.

“That’s a pretty damn good list.” He says, and then quietly, almost shy, he adds, “I’d say your chances on the third one are pretty darn high.”

Izuku’s heart is racing. He’s so happy, and Kacchan’s so happy, and they’re not even to the best part yet.

Izuku, right now, with the way Kacchan’s looking at him, feels invincible.

“Yeah? Well here,” he hands the assignment to Kacchan, “I think you’ll like my personal goals even more.”

He’s letting Kacchan read this one for himself. Izuku’s heart is pounding too hard to read it out loud to him. Besides, he knows exactly what it says.

“My personal goal is to be truly happy. I thought I was for a while, and sometimes I really am, but sometimes I’m really not. I want to be honest with myself, and take steps to make sure my happiness is a priority. Here’s how I plan to achieve this goal:

Step 1: Reach out to and confide in my friends when I’m struggling. One very important person in my life made me realize that I tend to bottle up complicated feelings. When I do that, I have a hard time having fun or feeling happy, because I worry too much about what will happen when I do let myself feel them. My friends are the greatest people in the world, and they would never judge me for expressing my true feelings, so talking it out with them will help me sort through them, without being alone.

Step 2: Pick up journaling again, to settle my mind and be stress relief. I recently rediscovered my old passion for taking notes and drawing sketches. Most of the ones I’ve done are about pros, because I really enjoy analyzing quirks and how they’re used. I find it super fun! Doing that again, as well as journaling my thoughts out day-to-day, will help me sort through my thoughts and feelings as I continue to strive for happiness.

Step 3: …”

When Kacchan’s done reading, he still has that proud look on his face, but it’s mixed with a little bit of confusion.

“It’s a great goal, Izuku,” he tells him, sounding like he really means it. Then he asks, “Where’s step three? Is that what you needed help with?”

Izuku smiles, and shakes his head. While Kacchan was reading, he had grabbed a certain notebook from his desk.

He makes his way over to the bed, scooting in to sit right next to Kacchan.

“For this one, it’s in a little bit different of a spot,” he explains softly, nearly in a whisper. “It’s at the very bottom of the next page, but I want you to read this one, first.”

And then, he hands Kacchan his first ever journal, opened to page three to start. Izuku watches as his eyes look surprised at first, but then roam over all of the content on the page—the sentences little Izuku wrote, the sketches that each of them drew, and their names that they signed.

“Ugly ass handwriting,” Kacchan whispers, but his eyes shine, and his fingers run over both the names like they’re treasures.

Once he’s read through that page and sat with the nostalgia, with their childhood dreams, for a minute or two, he flips it to the next one.

His eyes skim over the page just like they did the last time. Izuku watches closely, holding his breath, waiting for Kacchan to see the words on the bottom.

Secret… i want to marry Kacchan one day

Izuku knows the exact moment Kacchan reads it, because the man next to him inhales sharply, and then freezes in place.

Step 3, Izuku says to himself, show Kacchan I love him, too.

Izuku waits, holding his breath just like Kacchan is. He doesn’t want to interrupt as Kacchan processes what it all means.

He can hear Kacchan swallow. He can feel the sweat on his arm where it’s pressed against Izuku’s.

He seems at a loss of what to say. He looks like he’s struggling, like he can’t believe even the ink in front of him. All he manages to come up with, in a raspy, failed attempt at a joke is, “Aizawa’s going to throw up when he reads this, heh.”

“I love you, Kacchan,” Izuku says, as easy as breathing, because he can’t endure another second of Kacchan believing that his feelings are unrequited.

Kacchan doesn’t say anything, but his whole body goes stiff. He looks like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, eyes staring down at the notebook, fist clenching and unclenching in his lap.

“You don’t mean that, Izuku.”

Izuku immediately reassures, “Yes, I do.”

Kacchan shakes his head from side to side, eyebrows pinched as he struggles.

“I manipulated you into this,” he says. “You didn’t feel this way before—”

“The notebook you’re holding in your hand is proof that that isn’t true.”

That gets Kacchan to pause. To really examine the evidence, even though it’s clearly shaking up everything he thought he knew before.

Izuku’s done the showing, now it’s time for the telling. He needs Kacchan to know everything.

“Kacchan,” he starts, calling his name like how he always has, “loving you, it comes so easily to me, so naturally, that I didn’t even see it. But when I started thinking about my future, nothing made sense, except that I want you in it.”

Kacchan starts crying, and it’s heartbreaking in the most beautiful way. He’s quiet except for a little hiccup that comes with the first line of tears that trickle down his cheek, and drop down onto the notebook still open on his lap. Izuku can’t help the way his throat suddenly has a lump in it, and his eyes start to burn.

When he reaches to hold his hand, Kacchan doesn’t pull back. His fingers twitch with only the barest amount of hesitation before placing them between Izuku’s.

There’s still so much Izuku wants to tell him.

“Kacchan, there’s a reason why I told you about One for All first. There’s a reason why I knew I could. There’s a reason I kept chasing after you all this time. There’s a reason I couldn’t actually say no when you confessed. Kacchan,” he feels his own lip wobble, feels his throat choke up with so much emotion, and feels the tears spill over, “I’ve been in love with you this whole time.”

Izuku watches as Kacchan’s eyes pinch closed for a second. And then Kacchan twists, looking Izuku in the eye for the first time since he saw the words at the bottom of page four, and there’s deep turmoil in the red there.

 He’s scared, Izuku realizes. Terrified.

“I’m—I’m so messy, Izuku, you know that. So how could you…?”

He’s trying to push him away. Trying to convince him that he can’t, that they shouldn’t. That’s he’s not good enough.

It’s not going to work. Izuku is stubborn, and he won’t give up on Kacchan.

“I’m messy, too. I’m scared of the future. I’m scared of losing my quirk, and I’m scared of losing you. I’m going to mess up, and so will you. But, together—being together, I think we’d be able to solve the messes.” He promises, “I want to solve the messes with you, Kacchan.”

It seems that Kacchan’s losing that war that tells him he can’t have Izuku, because he slowly moves and pushes their foreheads together. Izuku rubs his from side to side, just like he did when he found Kacchan breaking down at the gym.

Kacchan chokes on breath as he tries his final reason. “I’m selfish. I’ll want you to pick me over the world.”

Izuku loves him. Izuku adores him. Izuku will choose him, anytime, anywhere.

“You can be selfish with me, as long as I can be selfish with you.”

“You? Selfish?” Kacchan scoffs like the thought is ridiculous, “As if. What would you even want?”

Izuku lets his mouth run.

“I want to hold you, and kiss you, and be with you. I want to eat breakfast with you, workout with you, cry with you, and watch All Might movies with you. I want to call you mine. I want you to call me yours. I want to be your partner in every way possible, for the rest of our lives. I want—”

Kacchan laughs quietly, and it still sounds wet, but his voice sounds more even now.

He pulls back, which is what gets Izuku to pause. They’re still sharing breath, but Izuku can see Kacchan’s face again now. And it’s absolutely wonderful, because he can see that Kacchan finally, truly believes him.

“Me too,” Kacchan whispers. “I want that, too.”

His eyes seem to sparkle, his lips tilt up like a request, like a challenge. His mouth is pink and raw and right there.

“Be selfish, Izuku,” Kacchan demands.

So, of course, Izuku listens.

And oh, oh it’s lovely how their lips finally connect. There’s a spark, a warmth, that shudders through Izuku immediately. Kacchan must feel it, too, because he whines into the kiss, and throws his arm over Izuku’s shoulder to keep him there, letting his hand curl into his hair and grasp at it. They breathe the same hot, energized air, over and over again as they push, and then pull apart just barely, and then press again, and press some more.

Izuku groans at the pleasure of it all, taking a moment to gently bite onto the puffiness of Kacchan’s bottom lip and tug at it, just to hear that whine again. It works. Izuku has to drop it because he starts smiling too hard. In return, Kacchan pulls at Izuku’s lip with his teeth in small little bites, moving all across it, and then sucking on it.

Izuku’s never done this before, but he feels so greedy, he wants more, everything, all of it. All of Kacchan. He sticks his tongue out, to lick at Kacchan’s mouth, and the taste of salty tears hits his tongue immediately. He never wants to stop this, but he also desperately needs to see Kacchan’s face.

He pulls his face back, reveling in the way their lips seem to want to stick together for a wonderful, blissful second, and forces his eyes open, blinking the dazedness out as quickly as he can, just enough to see—

Kacchan looks so soft, so pliant like this. His mouth is bitten and swollen red, partly open, just asking to be kissed some more. His eyes are closed, his cheeks are flushed pink and wet. And at the same time that he’s so soft, he’s strong, too. So sharp, holding so firm onto Izuku and—

“So beautiful.” Izuku can’t help but whisper. He’s amazed at the sight in front of him.

Kacchan opens his eyes just to glare at him, and Izuku feels so wonderfully, truly happy, so giddy, that he can’t resist kissing his forehead. Kacchan grumbles under his breath about it, but his lips quirk up into a betraying smile.

So Izuku kisses his nose, too. Then his cheek. Then his jaw. Travelling down the side of his neck, he leaves kisses treasuring each part of skin that he can. Kacchan lets him, gently scraping his fingers across Izuku’s scalp in a way that makes him shiver in delight.

Finally, Izuku kisses him on his throat. He feels Kacchan’s Adam’s apple bob with a swallow, and holds his fingers just underneath his jaw.

Thump thump, goes Kacchan’s heartbeat.

Izuku is suddenly overwhelmed, again, in the best possible way. He chokes on some more tears, which start tumbling down his face like they never stopped.

“Kacchan, I love you,” he says, lifting his head so he can tell him directly.

Kacchan hesitates for just a second, looking like he, too, can’t believe the sight in front of him, but then he kisses over the scar on Izuku’s face, where his freckles once were and where tracks of tears now are.

“I love you, Izuku,” he whispers. He sounds shaky, and sure, and broken, and free. And they both cry some more, clinging to each other all the while.

When they pull back just a bit and see each other’s faces again, Kacchan’s chest starts shaking with choppy, breathless laughter.

“We’re so fucked up,” Kacchan says wobblily, as he raises his hand to scrub away the tears on Izuku’s face. Izuku reaches up to return the favor, and knows exactly what he wants to say.

“But at least we’re fucked up, together.”

If Izuku could choose a moment in time to freeze forever, to keep safe in his pocket, it would be the smile that breaks onto Kacchan’s face at that moment.

Even with the lines of tears still running down his cheeks, he’s absolutely beaming. The curve of his mouth looks delicious.  Izuku’s helpless to do anything but kiss it.

And wonderfully, without hesitation, Kacchan kisses him back.

The very next morning, Izuku wakes up and immediately heads down for breakfast. The energy coursing through him makes him practically bounce in the elevator the whole ride.

When he steps into the kitchen, there Kacchan is, cooking like he does every morning. Same wonderfully messy hair, same amazingly focused expression. Same beautiful Kacchan.

Except, this time, Izuku is allowed to touch.

He walks up behind him, wrapping his arms around Kacchan’s waist and burying his face in the back of his shirt.

“Good morning,” he sighs into it. It’s so warm and soft here. He missed him, even though they just saw each other a few hours ago. Maybe tonight Kacchan will let him sleep over in his room if he asks nicely and kisses him some more.

Izuku’s briefly pulled out of that train of thought, because Kacchan seems to go stiff in the hug, just for a second.

“Too much?” Izuku asks, about to pull away.

Kacchan immediately turns to face him, shaking his head before kissing him right on the lips in one long, slow movement. He never lets Izuku break the hold, instead throwing his own arm over Izuku’s shoulders.

“Not too much. It’s just…” he huffs a laugh, and blush rapidly fills his cheeks as he avoids eye contact, “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting you to do that.”

That confession makes Izuku’s insides scream. Kacchan is so adorable!

They kiss again. Just a little peck. Then another one. Then another. It feels so natural, so right.

Izuku sighs dreamily. “If you want, I’ll hold you like this every morning for the rest of our lives.”

Embarrassed, Kacchan swats him gently with the handle of the spatula. He doesn’t reject Izuku’s plan, though. He only kisses Izuku on the cheek and turns around to get back to cooking. His neck is red with blush, as are the tips of his ears. Izuku is endeared, amazed, and everything in between.

Izuku settles himself against his back again, breathing him in.

Things aren’t perfect. They won’t ever be.

Life is chaotic. Healing is painful. Izuku and Kacchan are messy.

But Izuku knows what true, genuine happiness is now. And he’ll never let it go.

Whatever challenges the future will bring, whatever villains are thrown their way, whatever demons they must face, Izuku’s not worried in the slightest.

After all, they’re Izuku and Kacchan.

Together, they can do anything.