Work Text:
“Hey, Kacchan?” Izuku says, kicking his feet nervously, like he’s ready to fall off. Katsuki already called it a bad idea to be hanging off the roof like this, but Izuku was insistent, and they haven’t spoken in a few days, so fuck it, whatever Izuku wants to do, he’ll do. “Can I tell you something?”
Katsuki rolls his eyes. Better not be some stupid shit. “You’ve been telling me shit this whole time,” he says, turning his head forward. The orange sky reflects off of Japan’s skyline like the moonglade on a beach, and it makes everything more… romantic. He shivers, thinking about it anyway. Him and Izuku could never be romantic. Not when… not when he has someone else. Someone else that looks and acts nothing like him. “Why ask now?”
It’s not like Katsuki was the one who chose this fuckin’ place to catch up, out of all places. The top of the Dynamight hero agency building feels like a slap to the face, all things considered. He still shudders at the memory of it. Fuck, he’d love to know what Izuku and Ochako even talked about anyway.
Katsuki shakes it off. It doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that he and Izuku are catching up—talking and hanging out just like they used to. When Izuku has time, he reaches out to Katsuki and they meet up, as simple as that. Nothing more, regardless if the sunset and the sweet, chill breeze tries to set a mood for something other than that.
Izuku clears his throat, and it snaps Katsuki out of every thought he’s having. “I used to like you,” he says so fucking casually, and Katsuki’s entire world stops spinning. “Back in high school.”
Katsuki doesn’t reply for a minute, trying not to express to Izuku and to himself that he’s shocked, disappointed even. His thoughts move faster than his ability to even process them, and he’s left with the disgusting feeling of guilt and regret that they could’ve been something if he had just put away that shitty pride of his and said something, anything. His stomach churns, and it hurts.
His brain still wonders if they could be anything. If it was worth it to even try after high school, before… before…
“Ugh…” Katsuki grumbles out loud, not even meaning to. He thought he had buried everything so long ago, but to his surprise, Izuku sleeping next to him at night is still a recurring wish that he has every night. The idea of Izuku being his haunts him like a ghost, and it pains him to even think about it. It hurts him to accept the fact that he still loves Izuku, yet he has his eyes set on another. They see each other all the time, maybe even more than Izuku texts Katsuki—which says a lot, considering their texting ratio. All this time that they could’ve been hanging out during the seven years Katsuki spent scraping money for Izuku’s hero suit, and yet they choose to talk when Katsuki thinks he has it. Has him. What’d they even talk about? If they’re dating, why hasn’t either of them said anything about it? Why does Half ‘n Half talk about Izuku to him like he still has a chance?
Izuku tilts his head towards Katsuki, pinching his sleeve and tugging ever so slightly. Even the small things he does get him red, and it kills him every time. Izuku asks, “What?” like he’s scared. Like he’s nervous for what Katsuki’s about to say next. What could he possibly be worried about? He lives a good life, teaching children about quirks and how to be a hero while being one himself—while having good relationships with his friends, a probably good one with Round Face, not that he would know of because Izuku never fuckin’ talks about it, so why does he act like it’s a big deal to him?
“I could tell,” Katsuki admits, and the memories of Izuku’s pretty face smiling at him like nothing else mattered flash through his brain like a train passing by, the wind from the top of the building masking the feeling of the thoughts creating a breeze from how fast they flip through his mind. He’s not lying, either—he just never believed it. Never believed that even throughout everything, Izuku would have feelings for him that probably had him kicking his feet and giggling at snarky comments Katsuki would make over the phone, all those late nights they spent talking about school and homework like nothing else mattered.
He turns to face Izuku for a small moment, and he finds his eyes glued to his own. He looks disappointed, almost—like what he said was a confession, and Katsuki rejected him. What right does this fucker have to be upset? He has everything he could’ve asked for and more. What, he wants Katsuki to confess his undying love for him? That he loved him in high school, and shit, he still loves him now? Does he want Katsuki to tell him all about how he hasn’t been sleeping well at night because of the million possibilities of things that Izuku talked about with Ochako?
Why the fuck does this even matter to Izuku? Better yet, why does this matter to Katsuki? Why does he care that he spent years assuming that Izuku would accept his proposal to join Katsuki’s agency just to be rejected in his own fucking car, driving damn near ninety miles on the highway? Why does he care that Izuku could be in a whole other relationship right now, but still suggests weird ass places to go to when they get together, at times when Katsuki thinks he should just move on from the reason as to why his heart drops whenever he thinks about what could’ve been?
“I couldn’t help it,” Izuku says, like it was a bad habit that he couldn’t break, as if it was a sin to like the boy he chased after for more than half his life. Fuck Katsuki, it seems. “You didn’t like me back, did you?” He smiles weakly, like he already knows the answer. His tone sounds defeated, and all it does is boil Katsuki’s blood.
He avoids the question, snapping his head back to the slowly moving sun, inching past the horizon while the blue and purple tones take over. “What… what made you stop?” He hesitates, the voice in his head screaming at him for asking it. What more reasons do you want to hurt, Katsuki? How many more holes can you take to the heart to encourage you to move on?
Katsuki braces himself for the impact. He doesn’t dare look at Izuku, or else his heart will get shattered all over again. It’s pathetic, he thinks, it really is. To get his hopes up every time just to come back to the realization that his eyes are on someone else. His heart is set on someone else, and it’s not Katsuki. It won’t be on Katsuki, ever, because he missed his chance back in high school—although dying for him should’ve been a confession. Vowing to compete for the rest of their lives should’ve been a confession. Katsuki had so many chances, and he wasted all of them by being so cryptic. Izuku never knew the real meaning behind any of it, and there’s no need for it now. It doesn’t matter anymore, what his last thoughts were as he got his heart torn apart on the battlefield.
Izuku audibly gulps, and Katsuki swears he hears his breath shudder.
“I… um,” Izuku inhales and exhales so fucking slowly, and all Katsuki can do is wait for him to continue has the green haired boy stands up, facing him with his entire body. What the fuck is this?
Katsuki needs to get out of here. Holy fuck. “Nevermind, Izuku, it’s—”
“I don’t think I did—stop,” Izuku exhales, tears already forming in the corners of his eyes. “I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.”
Katsuki’s eyes widen, and his heart doesn’t know whether to stop beating or to keep pumping blood into the rest of his bloodstream. He doesn’t know if it’s about to jump out of his chest and fall thirty stories down for a poor civilian to have it land on their head or if it’s going to keep him alive.
“Kacchan,” Izuku chokes on his name, a tear falling down his freckled cheeks. His hair blows in his face, and Katsuki can’t even put a name to how beautiful he looks. “I never stopped. Even after all these years, I still—I still think about what I might’ve had the chance to change between us if I had said something—even if you didn’t feel the same,” he cries, hands flying up to his face to cover the tears that fall like a steady stream. “I know there’s still a lot that we have to talk about, and I… and I need to be more transparent with you, I kn—I know, but I can’t keep acting like I don’t want you, Kacchan, this is so hard.”
Hard? Hard? Holy fuck. Katsuki doesn’t know whether to kiss him or throw him off the roof. “You rejected working with me,” he exhales, breathless. “You—you had that talk with Pink Cheeks, you… what the fuck, Izuku?”
Izuku lets out a sob, hands still scrambling to wipe the tears before they fall off his face. “I know,” he reasons with Katsuki, sounding like he’s trying to figure it all out himself right now. “I’m—I’m going to compete with you, Kacchan. Just because… just because we’re not working together doesn’t mean I’m not going to beat you,” he laughs weakly, holding himself pathetically. “Uraraka–san and I aren’t dating, and I—I don’t even know where you got that from.”
Katsuki stands in shock. His brain is telling him to say something, but all his heart wants to do is reach out. Run his fingers through his curls. Wipe his tears with his thumbs, part his lips with his, oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck ohfuckohfuckohfuck.
His body moves on its own, and he drags Izuku closer, wrapping his arms around his shoulders as he buries his face in his hair. It smells like vanilla, and Katsuki doesn’t want to let his head grow too big, but Izuku knew more than anyone that vanilla’s his favorite scent. Only he would know to manipulate the way he smells just to appeal to Katsuki.
Izuku sobs, and he sobs for almost five minutes, gripping onto anything Katsuki's wearing that he can manage to get his hands on. He shakes, and Katsuki holds him like it’s the last time he ever will—like it’s not the first time he has in years. Katsuki’s eyes water too, but he wants to be strong. He wants to be unbothered, anything but emotional.
And yet he can’t, even if he tries. The tears fall on their own, and Katsuki can’t escape from them. He’s such an idiot. Izuku’s such an idiot.
“I love you, Kacchan,” Izuku finally says, pushing away ever so slightly just to get a good look at him. Izuku’s far more fucking beautiful than the word beautiful could even entail, and Katsuki wouldn’t be able to fit even five hundred pages of writing to describe everything he feels about the way Izuku looks—not just now, but all the time.
Katsuki laughs dryly, “You’re a fucking idiot,” he insults Izuku weakly, pressing kisses to his cheeks. Izuku giggles, and while he hates to admit it, it feels like Katsuki can fucking breathe. “You love me, huh.”
Izuku pouts, and Katsuki’s about ready to jump off the building. “You’re making fun of me.”
“No I’m not, Shitnerd. Took you long enough for you to realize that for yourself.”
“If you knew back then, why didn’t you say anything?”
Katsuki smiles, a real, genuine smile, and shakes his head. “Didn’t think it was true. I refused to think it was true, not after—not after everything I’ve done to you.”
“I’ve forgiven you so many times,” Izuku argues, interlocking their fingers. Fuck, Katsuki’s fallen so hard that he doesn’t think he’ll ever get back up.
Not that he wants to, anyway.
“I can’t wait to tell Uraraka–san that I finally told you,” Izuku admits.
Katsuki breathes a little bit lighter. “Izuku.”
Izuku looks up at him, his pupils blown wide and pretty as ever. “Yeah?”
“I’m going to tell you something.” Katsuki cups his cheek, rubbing at the wet spots with his thumb.
“Okay.”
“I loved you in high school,” the blond says, leaning in to kiss Izuku once. They gravitate towards each other like they’ve always been meant to do, like they’re the stars in the sky, the salt in the sea. “I loved you after we graduated, I love you now, and I’ll love you for the rest of my fucking life.”
They melt into each other like they’ve always done, and the sunset says its last goodbye as it disappears from the horizon, like it’s done what it needed to do, leaving a last fuck you for not believing in what it’s purpose was to Katsuki as it shines bright in his face.
And yet Katsuki accepts it with open arms and closed eyes. He cherishes the ability for a simple sunset and an orange tint in the sky reflecting off Japan’s skyline the way the moonglade looks on a beach to set a mood for something more than just two friends catching up—for Izuku was never simply a friend to Katsuki.
He’s everything more, and nothing less.