Archive of Our Own

Childhood was a lonely affair for Katsuki, until it wasn’t. Sure, he had a cool quirk and cool quirks drew curious kids in, but he couldn’t consider any of them friends—they were extras . They just wanted to see the fire, just wanted to hang out with the kid who for sure was going to be a hero one day. He rarely was invited to birthdays or playdates, there was really only interacting when proximity was forced. 

Until Midoriya Izuku came around. 

Sweet, lovely, kind Izuku, with his green curls and his freckles and his infectious enthusiasm for heroes. He loved Katsuki’s quirk, because he loved Katsuki. From sun up to sundown, Izuku was around, and Katsuki wasn’t alone, never alone. 

Katsuki described his friend in a way that only a child could. “This is my best friend Izuku. I love him. We catch bugs and we both love All Might.” And if you talked to Izuku about his best friend Katsuki, according to him, he hung the sun and all of the stars “because he has fire.” 

Katsuki didn’t want his world to change—no child does. But Izuku didn’t have a quirk, and he was too soft for Katsuki’s burgeoning rough edges. His glory outpaced his humanity, guns blazing. 

Izuku was there for Katsuki’s fourth, fifth, and sixth birthdays. On each and every one, he had Izuku help him blow out his candles and open his presents. In fact, Izuku was the only one allowed to touch his brand new All Might action figures, or his brand new skateboard, or his brand new anything. Only Izuku. 

Once Katsuki turned six, the wind started to change. The boys were in school and Katsuki found a group of extras that was dumber than rocks, but he was the king of the dumb rocks, and somehow, with his fire and his dumb rocks he ruled the entirety of his grade. The sheer power he had over his classmates by snapping and creating a flame was intoxicating, and it riled young Katsuki up in ways that only young boys could be riled. He learned to speak solely in aggression and harsh words, and Izuku, poor sweet Izuku, was too smart and too small to keep up. 

Izuku noticeably did not receive an invitation for his seventh birthday. 

They were walking home together in secret when Izuku finally asked him. 

“Kacchan… are you mad at me?”

“I just can’t have a quirkless loser at my birthday, Deku.”

It was the first time Katsuki made Izuku cry. 

It chipped away at Katsuki, his need for superiority gaining power and speed, not to be outpaced by the firepower of his quirk. Sure, Izuku was there when Katsuki had no friends, and sure, Katsuki technically didn’t have any real friends now, but it didn’t matter. 

It was always lonely at the top, and Katsuki might as well get used to that now. 

He was aware that heroes weren’t bullies. 

He knew that the way he treated Izuku was behavior unfit and unworthy of the title of “hero.” 

It was hurting him inside. 

Katsuki didn’t realize it at first. At first, all he felt was the raw power he had over people, especially Izuku. Dumb, stupid, weak Izuku, who still tried to follow him around and called him cool and had the audacity to try and help him . It was embarrassing. 

Yeah, he felt the most power over him , and it was intoxicating. 

It changed though, it all changed when Katsuki had gotten detention for showing off his quirk in class after the teacher explicitly warned him not to. He had to show everyone who was the coolest, who was the strongest. If he got detention for it, it only contributed to his reputation as the coolest and the strongest. Sure, kids who got detention didn’t get to really have friends either, but that was fine by him. They were all too weak to be his friend, anyway. 

He did his time, staring at the whiteboard with drool hanging out of his mouth, until the stupid teacher told him he could go home. And as soon as he walked out the door, he heard sniffling coming from the direction of the stairwell on his right. 

Katsuki didn’t do crying. Other kids were crybabies, stupid Deku was a crybaby, but Katsuki was strong. He didn’t cry. He walked over to the stairs to mock whoever it was, but stopped short when he saw a familiar mess of green curls in front of him. 

Izuku’s shoulders shook, and he couldn’t see his face but Katsuki had seen him cry enough to know what it looked like all scrunched up and tear-soaked. And for some reason, Katsuki felt a twinge in his chest. He felt regret, small but there, grow behind his ribs and sink into his stomach. 

Unfortunately, it’s true—humans can feel when someone is looking at them. Izuku cast a quick glance behind him, and upon seeing Katsuki, quickly brushed his tears away and stood up. “Kacchan. What are you doing here?” Katsuki wasn’t always good at picking up on cues, but he heard this one: Please go away. Please don’t do what you normally do.

“I heard sniveling and wanted to know what nerd was crying in public.” The words came out harsh, and Katsuki felt them grate on his heart like nails on a chalkboard. Izuku blinked quickly, unsure of what to say. Usually, he had a smile and a laugh or something , but this time, he just stood and stared. It was awkward and uncomfortable and it made Katsuki want to get out of there as quickly as possible. 

“Whatever. Go get a life, loser, and maybe you won’t be crying like a baby at school.”

Katsuki turned on his heel to leave, and stopped when he heard a small, “Why?”

He hadn’t heard it before. Usually, Izuku took it in stride, brushed it off and laughed along like he was in on the joke too. 

It hurt. It hadn’t before. Did it hurt Izuku? Why did he care?

“Damn Deku, always so sensitive,” he muttered in reply, before continuing down the hallway. He pretended he didn’t hear the sniffling continue. 

The odd protectiveness came later. 

One of the extras (he refused to call them friends) tried to start in on Izuku, making some comment… “Deku is so dumb, his hair looks like sewage!”

“Yeah, he looks dumb!”

“We should tell him, he’s right there!”

“Yeah, hey Dek—”

Katsuki’s hand slammed against the table. “I’m the only one who gets to do it.” When the pair looked at him oddly, he leisurely tacked on, “You two idiots don’t do it right.”

Katsuki noticed Izuku giving him a furtive look over his shoulder. 

And pretended he saw nothing. 

It was killing him inside. 

They got halfway through middle school, and the hormones were raging—Katsuki’s mother made enough jokes about it for him to know that . But something was happening to him, growing inside of him, that he couldn’t understand. 

He started to feel it when he saw someone else push Izuku around. Katsuki saw red , and that extra was down in two hits—Katsuki hitting him, and him hitting the floor. Izuku looked at Katsuki in wonder, that same look that he reserved for only “Kacchan,” the boy with fire who hung the sun and the stars. Katsuki sneered, and with his lip still curled spat, “Quirkless loser, can’t do shit to protect himself in a stupid little fight.” Izuku’s face fell, and Katsuki felt his heart twist. 

Katsuki got detention for a week, but he cared more about the bruising he was feeling inside. 

Detention gave him ample time to consider what it was he was feeling, these foreign emotions twisting in his gut and putting his heart in a vise. Maybe he was getting sick, maybe it was anxiety that he was only a year away from seriously preparing for UA, maybe it was…

He saw a flash of green in the window of the classroom door, and his head jerked to look. Izuku, peering in, smiling and waving apologetically before going on his merry way. 

The vise tightened, and he felt a warm flush creep up the back of his neck, as it began to dawn on him—the feelings that his fellow classmates described to him when they had crushes on the girls they liked. One of them, he couldn’t be arsed to remember who now, mentioned it explicitly: “My face got all hot and my heart hurt and my stomach felt weird.”

For the rest of the week, Katsuki avoided Izuku like the plague that he was, the pestilence that had taken root in his soul and spread through his veins without him even noticing. To have a crush on your best-friend-turned-victim, to have a crush on the person you torment day in and day out…

What did it mean?

At lunch, Katsuki kept his head down and stayed quiet, no matter who tried to engage him. Stupid fucking Izuku, even he got the hint and left him alone. 

As if to prove the point, the feeling in the center of his chest grew deeper when Izuku left him alone. 

“You should just take a long walk off a tall building,” Katsuki spat. His mouth was nothing but vitriol, his hands stuffed into his pants which were now smoking with little scorch marks. It wasn’t the first time he’d said some variation of this to Izuku, but the air felt different this time. Hot. Charged. Tense. 

“Kacchan—” Izuku said it tearfully, clutching his stupid notebook to his stupid chest. And Katsuki had to tell him it was—

“Stupid, stupid Deku. Always so worthless, always so ridiculous and such a waste of space—”

Neither boy saw it coming. Even though, by all accounts, it was slow, and weak, and of course it made Izuku hurt his hand, but neither of them thought that Izuku would actually punch Katsuki. Not in the face. Not squarely on the cheek. It wasn’t a hard punch, but it was hard enough to bruise Izuku’s knuckles and leave red blooming on the impact spot. 

Izuku’s chest was heaving and his eyes were filled with tears and immediate regret and Katsuki wanted to shake him. A thought that haunted his dreams and his waking nightmares: Don’t you ever regret giving me what I deserve.  

But he did anyway, with a small, “I’m sorry, Kacchan.”

With his notebook in his hand, Izuku took off running the opposite direction in the hallway, and Katsuki did nothing but watch him. He would do nothing but watch him. He never had any intention of touching him at this point, because if he touched him, he didn’t know what he would do. Pull him close into a hug and apologize for years of pain, probably. Fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness, most likely. Bury his head in Izuku’s neck and just breathe in the smell of goodness and light, definitely. But he couldn’t do any of those things, because the damage was done. There were only so many times a person could call someone stupid, and worthless, and every other horrible thing before they not only started to believe it, but they started to hate. 

But Katsuki knew that Izuku didn’t have a bone in his body capable of hate. He knew that. Which is why Katsuki had to have enough hate in his body for the both of them.

Sitting in front of Izuku was a nightmare, and it was a metaphor. 

Katsuki felt like he watched everything in slow motion. The way people always came by Izuku’s desk to say hi, to ask him questions, to see if he wanted to eat lunch with them. It felt worse if he hung behind Izuku, and watched as he was always flocked by friends, while Katsuki alienated anything with a pulse. Katsuki felt an extra special twinge when it was someone like Uraraka, the girl who thought she was slick in hiding her obvious love for the great Deku. Get in line, sweetheart .

It was also a metaphor. Always trying to get ahead of Izuku; never would he allow himself to fall behind, and God forbid he was ever beside him. But don’t get him wrong, when Izuku finally gained control of his quirk and finally stopped breaking his whole ass, Katsuki felt relief on a level he didn’t know was possible. Izuku’s stadium fight with Todoroki nearly killed him and if it did, then Katsuki would’ve had to kill Todoroki, and it just wasn’t a charge Katsuki was quite prepared to catch. 

He watched Izuku gracefully move during the challenge after everyone’s return from internships and outwardly, he was angry, because he had to be. Not just to keep up appearances, but because how else could he process the feeling that he could no longer protect Izuku? He would be a proper hero now. He would be able to get into dangerous situations, and Katsuki could do nothing to stop him. It was infuriating. It made him want to break things and set them all on fire. When Izuku got back to the landing, Katsuki wanted to set him on fire. 

He knew Izuku would come for him, and it scared the shit out of him. 

Surrounded by these insane people, people who drank blood and turned people into marbles and dust and God knew what else and he knew that Izuku was going to try and come after him. He saw it in the terror in Izuku’s eyes as he reached for him, just as the portal closed and Katsuki was shut off from the only thing in his life that mattered. 

He was so, so scared that Izuku was going to come after him. 

He was so, so relieved when he didn’t see Izuku amongst the pro heroes in their little rescue mission. 

He wanted to grab and hide Izuku when he saw that he came anyway, hide him from the terrifying monster of a man currently fighting All Might because that man and Shigaraki wanted Izuku as much as they wanted him and goddammit they couldn’t have him .  

He learned later from Kirishima that the whole rescue plot was Izuku’s, because of course it was. Only he could devise a plan of that caliber, and only he would understand that…that even in the heat of battle, Katsuki couldn’t touch him. Because if he did, he would’ve pulled Izuku in and told everyone else to fuck off, they were going somewhere safe where fucking no one, not even All Might, could find them. 

He’d let everyone think it was hate, but really, it was that.

It came to a head during house arrest. 

Izuku was taking out the trash while everyone else was in class, but Katsuki told him he was going to do it. It sounded silly, but he didn’t want Izuku to get his hands dirty. Katsuki wanted part of his penance to be the gross stuff. And of course, anger and fire were the response. 

“Fucking Deku, never listens,” Katsuki snapped. “Are you an idiot or something? Can you not understand simple instructions?”

And Izuku looked tired. He simply dropped the bags, turned around, and walked away. It wouldn’t do. Katsuki didn’t think, he only acted when he lunged forward and his right hand gripped Izuku’s left elbow. Izuku froze in place, his head bent forward with his hair covering his eyes. “Don’t you dare walk away from me.”

But this time, it had no bite. Katsuki meant for it to sound menacing, threatening, like Izuku would regret it the next time he did it so he should never ever do it again. But instead, it came out soft, pleading. He was standing on two feet but inside Katsuki was begging on his knees. 

Izuku turned slowly, his eyes still covered by his hair. “What’s wrong, Kacchan?”

Sweet, selfless, stupid. His Izuku. Always those three things. “I’m sorry.” The words tumbled out before he could stop them. “You’re not an idiot,” he added. In for a penny, in for a pound. 

Izuku nodded and tried to remove himself from Katsuki’s grip, but his fingers only dug in tighter. Izuku grimaced, and Katsuki wondered if there would ever come a day where he wouldn’t hurt the person he loved. This is why he couldn’t touch him, not like this. 

“Please don’t go.” Oddly, his words said what his touch couldn’t. 

“Kacch—Katsuki.” It landed like a blow. Like a full-power, One For All, blow. Katsuki exhaled like he’d been punched, his hand jerked back as if he’d been scalded. He saw a tear fall down Izuku’s face and it hurt . “Why do you do this? What did I do to you besides lo—“ Izuku cut himself off and dug the heel of his palm into his eye. “Besides act like you were someone important in my life,” he finished lamely. 

And Katsuki, for all of his brains, only heard that last sentence and not what was cut off or beneath them. “Just ‘someone important,’ eh?” he couldn’t help but spit. 

Izuku exhaled tiredly. “You’re never ‘just’ anything. That’s the whole point.”

And now Katsuki was confused. “Damn Deku, be clear about what you’re saying!”

But Izuku was already shaking his head and turning away. “I can’t be any clearer, and neither can you.” He sighed again, a young man who had finally given up. “Let’s just… try to stay away from each other for a while, okay?” What? “I know we sit by each other and live together and stuff but if it isn’t too much trouble, just… pretend I’m not there. Like you used to.”

Please . 

He couldn’t stop Izuku from walking away this time. He couldn’t start breathing normally. Always so quick to shoot off at the mouth, so quick to act, so quick to fire at anything that moved. And look where it got him. The only person he really, truly loved, walking away from him. Asking him to pretend that he wasn’t important. But shouldn’t it be easy? That’s what Katsuki has been doing this whole time, shoving Izuku into the ground and calling him worthless. 

He’s been telling Izuku he’s unimportant his whole life. 

He’s been trying to convince himself , and Izuku was caught in the crossfire. 

Katsuki’s throat burned, and his eyes blurred, and suddenly it occurred to him that he was crying. He hadn’t cried in years—maybe the last time was when he banged up his knee pretty badly when he was five. Izuku was there, telling him he was going to be okay, “I’ll help you feel better, Kacchan!” The memory made him cry harder. 

Why was it so hard to accept help from him? Why, because it was supposed to be the other way around? Because it made him feel weak, like he couldn’t love Izuku if he wasn’t protecting him? It made no sense in Katsuki’s warped mind but the tears came faster and he had to realize that he better start making sense of things pretty damn quick. 

“You’re more of an asshole than normal, bud,” Kirishima observed over lunch. Katsuki wanted to punch him directly in the throat. “Yeah, see, that look you’re giving me? Like you would set me on fire with your bare hands? That’s what I’m talking about. You’re starting to scare people.”

Maybe normal people might have deflated at being called out like that. They would be upset at being that scary, be horrified by the mirror being held up to their faces and back down. But Katsuki? He felt his hands crackle in warning, instead opting to amp up the threat in his eyes. 

Kirishima wasn’t backing down. He leaned in and quietly started talking. “Talk to me, man. You can talk to me. I won’t tell anyone. I won’t judge. I don’t give a shit, you know me. What is going on?” 

“None of your fucking business, asshole.”

Kirishima exhaled, and leaned back. He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his gaze at Katsuki. “Does it have something to do with Midoriya?”

Katsuki’s fist banged against the table, and the entire room fell silent. All eyes on them, but Katsuki’s eyes burned holes into Kirishima’s. Kirishima, for his part, just laughed and turned to the room. “Y’all know Bakugou, nothing to see here, folks.” It was flimsy, but it was enough for the room to tentatively fill back up with noise. Kirishima turned back to Katsuki. “I’m going to take that as a ‘yes,’ and before you threaten me or the student body any further, I’m going to tell you to shut the fuck up for two seconds and listen to me.”

Nothing could deflate the anger inside of Katsuki; instead, he leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest and his hands gripping his biceps to keep from destroying anything. This was as relaxed as he could get. This was his motion to continue. 

“I don’t know what happened, it’s none of my business, and honestly, for my own health and safety, I would like to keep it that way.” Kirishima paused and waited to see if he would be attacked before continuing. “But Midoriya is… something has been wrong with him too. Iida said he started crying in his katsudon yesterday but said it was just exam stress even though we don’t have one coming up. Uraraka is insistent that ‘Deku-kun’s smiles don’t reach his eyes anymore.’ Hell, even Todoroki is concerned, and that motherfucker doesn’t concern himself with this kind of shit.” 

Something twisted inside of Katsuki. His fingers twitched, but not toward Kirishima. He felt the fire being directed inward again. He felt his bones turn radioactive, liquefying him from the inside out. 

“I don’t know what happened,” Kirishima continued quietly. “But I know he’s as upset as you are. And all of us are worried about both of you. And all of us…see…both of you,” he posited tentatively. Katsuki’s eyes whipped up at that. Kirishima held up his hands. “I’m not being presumptuous. It’s only clear that you two have a bond, and right now, something is interfering with it, and it’s no good, Bakugou. It has to be fixed. For both of your sakes.”

Katsuki retired to the common room that evening with his eyes trained on one person, just to confirm for himself. He was trying to leave Izuku alone, doing his best to distance himself because that’s what Izuku wanted and Katsuki was trying so desperately to stop hurting him. But to know that he was hurting him anyway…

In the glow of the television, nestled between Tsu and Uraraka, Izuku looked pallid. He laughed when the stupid laugh track on the sitcom played, but Kirishima was right, it didn’t reach his eyes. It looked like it caused him physical pain. Somewhere, maybe halfway through the episode of whatever they were watching, Izuku suddenly looked over at Katsuki and locked eyes. Katsuki couldn’t make sense of what he saw. Sadness? Hope? Anger? Resignation? 

They kept the contact for several seconds, and Katsuki didn’t know what he was saying, but he hoped it was something like please, I’m sorry, please let me come back, I miss you, please . 

And then the laugh track was back and the spell was broken, and no matter how many times Katsuki tried to corner or talk to Izuku that week, somehow, Izuku was always quicker. 

It was raining that day. 

Katsuki sat in his room and just watched the rivulets roll down his window, and lost himself in thought. He lost track of how long it’d been since he talked to Izuku. His anger calmed slightly, and people in class started to approach him a little more freely again, but usually the sole point of contact was Kirishima. Katsuki didn’t mind, because Kirishima had the tact and good sense to never bring up Izuku. Everyone else, inevitably, at some point in the conversation, just had to talk about what fun thing they did together, or what brilliant thing he did during training, or whatever. 

When he was far enough away, though, he secretly loved hearing whatever scraps he could, because it was the closest he was allowed to be. But he hated the way people glanced at him when they shared it, with pity and understanding. They didn’t understand shit. They didn’t understand what it meant to love someone so much that you destroyed them and yourself in the process. 

Was it even love? 

It was selfish love, Katsuki realized. Fearful love. Izuku deserved better. So Katsuki after several weeks, finally learned how to stay away, and just get what he could from hearing about Izuku from other people. 

“You seem different.”

“Fuck off.”

“Not like that,” Kirishima sighed. “You—“

“Hi.”

Katsuki froze. And then looked up. And there he was. His big eyes looked down at him with some inscrutable expression. Distantly, he could hear a chair scraping. “Sit here, Midoriya. I just finished.”

“Oh, thanks Kirishima-kun.” Kirishima bumped Izuku’s shoulder on the way out, before Izuku gracefully took his seat. “Hi,” he repeated. 

“Hi,” Katsuki finally replied. His voice sounded like sand paper. He cleared his throat. “How are you?” 

Izuku dug into his food as he answered. “I’ve been better and I’ve been worse,” he answered honestly. “You?”

“I don’t think I’ve been worse.” 

At this, Izuku’s head popped up. Their eyes met once again, but this time, Katsuki knew the expression—it’s the same one Izuku wore when he fell off the log, when he was ensnared by a villain. “What’s wrong?”

“You’ve been gone.” 

Izuku’s fork fell from his hands, and the world between them fell quiet. “What did you say?”

“I missed you.” He couldn’t have said it more plainly. Maybe this is what Kirishima meant by, “You seem different.” Maybe he was. What did he have to lose? Izuku was already gone. 

“You missed me,” Izuku echoed. 

“Yes.”

“Why are you still being mean?”

Katsuki reeled back. “I’m not,” he replied adamantly. “I—“ He ran his fingers through his hair and willed them not to smoke. “Why are you here, if you think all I’m going to do is be mean?”

Izuku stopped, his mouth opening and closing. “I…I missed you too,” he said finally. 

Katsuki squinted, because he could feel his eyes start to shine. “You missed me? Now there’s a load of shit if I ever heard it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Have you been around me, Deku? Did you somehow miss what I put you through? And you missed me?” 

Suddenly, Katsuki’s skin was too tight. The air was too thick. He had to get out of here, immediately. He started to push up from the table. “I’m sorry, I have to—“

“Please don’t.” It was so soft. Katsuki paused mid-stand, and just looked at him. “I’ll accept that you missed me, because I know I missed you. But please don’t go when I just came back.”

Who was he to not obey this request? Without even thinking, he slowly lowered back into his chair, his eyes still on Izuku’s. As soon as he was fully seated, he saw a spark, small but there. “Thank you.” 

“Why are you—why did you even come back?” I don’t deserve for you to come back. 

“I told you. I missed you.”

“What does that mean, Deku?”

“Don’t call me that.” Izuku’s voice came out more sharply than he intended, and Katsuki flinched back. Izuku took a deep breath. “Please.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes scrunched together and then relaxed, before continuing. “It means what I said. When you’re not around, I don’t like it.”

They sat in silence for several minutes after that. Izuku continued to eat with his head bowed, and Katsuki watched Izuku. He could barely believe he got the opportunity again to be in his presence, and really all he wanted to do was just watch Izuku in peace. No external factors, no internal plots, just complete presence. They had that at one time, it felt like a lifetime ago now. Why did it have to be so far away?

The bell rang. 

“Same time tomorrow?” Izuku asked hopefully. 

“Sure, nerd.” Zero hesitation. 

They pushed back from their seats, and walked to class together, side by side. 

Time passed slowly. The barbs remained pointed, but lacked any heat. 

Nature was healing. 

Katsuki learned how to exist differently around Izuku. Now that they could admit to things like missing each other, something within him softened. Of course, whatever that thing was, remained rough and spiky with respect to anything and everything else—but with Izuku, the edges were just a little smoother. 

They didn’t bicker as much in class, Katsuki actually held himself back from trademark insults, hell he even provided constructive feedback during fighting sessions instead of just verbal lashings. 

Of course, he should’ve known the progress would screech to a halt at some point. 

Katsuki let Izuku drag him to a table in the corner, a little two-seater that was as far away from the world as they could get. He let Izuku chatter on endlessly, wondering how he managed to eat and talk so much at the same time. It was oddly endearing. 

“…and anyway, I had to tell her I was interested in someone else.”

Wait. What?

“What are you talking about, nerd?”

Izuku blustered. “Kacchan, did you not listen to a word I said this whole time?”

“Clearly not,” Katsuki snapped back. 

“I said , that Uraraka-san tried to ask me out to lunch.”

“And you said no.”

“Right.”

“Why?” Katsuki demanded. He didn’t mean to sound so angry, but the jealousy (not jealousy, not jealousy, not jealousy) that flared up within him was consuming. 

Izuku flushed. “I uh…someone else…”

“ Why? ” It took everything in Katsuki not to roar. 

Izuku shrugged, digging nervously back into his meal. He said it to his bowl, head down but voice strong. “Because I love you.”

As if it was obvious. Fact. Part of the natural world, as much as birds and flowers and the ocean and the sky. As if it didn’t just set off an explosion in Katsuki’s body, one that Katsuki had set a long time ago that was just waiting, waiting, waiting to be detonated. 

“You love me,” he whispered back.

Izuku’s eyes widened slightly, as if he didn’t quite realize that he did in fact say that out loud, but instead of taking it back, he nodded resolutely and kept eating through the pinkness in his cheeks. “Yes.” 

Everyone kept eating. Talking. Gesticulating to each other. Discussing their plans for the evening. Life continued on around them, as if Katsuki wasn’t currently experiencing a heart attack.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Deku.”

“I’m not, don’t call me that, ” he responded with ire. 

“How?” Maybe that was the question. That was the real bafflement of this whole scenario. Katsuki could love Izuku because Izuku was wholesome and good and pure and light, but Izuku love Katsuki? That was like loving cancer. 

And maybe, just maybe, Katsuki accidentally said his internal monologue out loud, because Izuku’s brow raised all the way into his hairline. “You—Kacchan—You’re not—”

“ Don’t call me that .” Not out of anger, but self-preservation.

“ Kacchan . You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever known.”

Oh God. Not here. Not like this. 

“Deku—“

“You’re strong and loyal and fierce and beautiful and—and—and—“ Izuku had tears in his eyes now. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. Please.”

He couldn’t do this. “I’m sorry, Izuku.” 

He got up and walked away. 

Somehow, it was harder when the isolation was self-imposed. 

He could feel Izuku looking at him, making calculations on whether he should approach or not. People were even more on eggshells around him. Even Aizawa got the message and began to leave him alone, pointedly not pairing him with Izuku during exercises. 

It was harder because it wasn’t real anymore. This isolation was of his own making, not because Izuku told him to stay away or because he was being kept away by others. 

He was out of his seat and out the door the moment Aizawa dismissed them, before Izuku had even a chance to breathe in his direction. He took his lunch to the bathroom—no one, not even Kirishima, knew that. He avoided the common areas like the plague, opting to stay in his meager room and damn any claustrophobia he was starting to develop. 

Because Izuku didn’t love him. Deku didn’t love him. That was foolishness, it was that damn syndrome where captives fall in love with their captors, it wasn’t real. If Katsuki just stayed away, Izuku’s head would clear, and then they’d go back to normal, where he would just be asshole Kacchan who tormented and screamed and burned his way through the world, and Izuku would be the true beacon of light, summoning similar beacons that deserved to bask in the glow of it all. 

It went on like that for about two weeks. 

But the thing about self-pity parties is, they always attract company. 

He was lying on his bed, his hands clasped behind his head and staring at the ceiling, when he heard the soft knock. He planned on ignoring it, until it came again. “Go away!” he barked. Usually, that worked. But the knock came again, even more insistent this time. “Damn it, damn it, damn it…” he muttered, flying out of bed and breaking open the door. “What do you—”

And there he was. He seemed even lighter than Katsuki remembered. But the circles under his eyes were darker. His mouth was drawn. His physique was still built, but his cheekbones were more prominent in his soft face. He looked as lost as Katsuki felt. “Can I come in?” It reminded him of when he begged on his knees in words, and silently, Katsuki stepped to the side, and shut the door behind him. 

Izuku stood motionless in the middle of the room. Katsuki stood watching Izuku. He wanted to wrap his arms around Izuku’s waist and just hold him, and apologize, and kiss those apologies into his neck until the sun went down and came back up, and even then he’d keep going. But instead he clenched his fists at his side. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you,” Izuku replied, his voice raspy with what sounded like crying. “I miss you when you’re not around.” 

Katsuki wasn’t sure if Izuku used One for All or if he was just fast enough to blink and miss it, but suddenly, so suddenly, there he was with his arms wrapped around Katsuki’s waist and his cheek pressed against Katsuki’s chest. 

His fists stayed in tight balls, until he felt shudders ripple through Izuku’s body, and heard small hiccups come from his pink mouth. And suddenly the world shifted. He wasn’t a person who comforted crying people, and he sure as hell never was that person to the one he loved the most, but for once, something guided him, held his hands as they unfurled and curled themselves around Izuku to draw him closer. An unseen force pushed his head down to rest on a mop of green curls, pressing his lips ever so gently to the crown. And finally, of his own volition, he pulled Izuku closer, held him tighter, as tight as he’s always wanted to hold him, while Izuku cried. 

“I’m sorry,” Katsuki whispered. “I’m here. I’m here. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t—“ Another hiccup. “Don’t leave me anymore.”

It was a simple enough request, but Katsuki couldn’t believe he was the one hearing it. His own vision blurred, but he didn’t dare make a sound, because this was about Izuku. He’d made this whole thing about him and his dumbass feelings for long enough. “I won’t. If you don’t want me to, then—then I won’t.” A promise he couldn’t break. 

“I never want you to, Kacchan. Not even before.”

That night, they tumbled into bed and just held each other. Izuku was tucked safely into the crook of Katsuki’s shoulder, inhaling his scent deeply with his fingers fisted in the fabric of Katsuki’s T-shirt. And Katsuki, for his part, just lazily traced circles and patterns along Izuku’s arm, touched him in small ways wherever and however he could, just because he could. The light faded into dark, and they continued to lay there silently just like that, and when they fell asleep, they moved even closer. 

There was a palpable difference in class the next day, yet no one could quite put their finger on it. 

They didn’t physically touch, they barely acknowledged each other. But there was a looseness in the way that Katsuki carried himself that wasn’t there before. The circles under Izuku’s eyes lessened. 

“His smile reached his eyes this time!” Uraraka whispered it, but it traveled across the whole of the classroom. The back of Izuku’s neck turned pink. Something inside Katsuki shifted. 

At the first dismissal, Kirishima came up to him and started talking about who-knew-what, and then stopped abruptly. “Huh.”

“What, dumbass?”

“You don’t look like you want to kill me.”

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t push your luck.”

Instead of being threatened as intended, Kirishima threw his head back and laughed. “Even that didn’t have as much bite as it usually does.” He leaned in. “I’m glad you guys worked things out,” he said lowly. 

At lunch, Kirishima sat and left the seat next to Katsuki open. Like clockwork, Izuku appeared and sat right next to him, and Uraraka rounded out the set. The group chattered incessantly, and Katsuki found that as long as Izuku’s thigh was pressed against his, he didn’t really mind. The only interaction required of him was a few grunts here and a few “yeahs” there, but mostly, Izuku did the talking for him. 

“Right, Kacchan?”

“Whatever you say.” Izuku’s ears turned red as he turned back to the pair in front of them, and Katsuki noticed Uraraka looking at him slyly, like the cat who got the canary. Whatever. He really didn’t mind. 

After a week, the novelty of Katsuki and Izuku finally wore off. 

The groups intermingled, but the constant was those two together. Even Aizawa, that big softie, noticed and started pairing them together during exercises again. 

Katsuki held onto the balance they struck the way he’d hold onto a dove he was afraid to incinerate, or candy floss in the rain. 

But the self-loathing was still omnipresent. He’d wake up hearing himself telling Izuku to jump off of a building or that he was useless or stupid or an idiot or any number of things that weren’t true but Katsuki said it anyway because he was a devil and Izuku was an angel. He’d wake up in a sweat at 3 AM and would reach for a body that wasn’t there. It was probably best that he wasn’t there. 

Most nights, he didn’t get back to sleep. He laid awake thinking through all of the things he said and did, and parsed through the memory of the previous day where Izuku had to pretend that none of that happened as he gripped Katsuki’s hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. It made him disgusted with himself, the selfishness. If he had any decency left, he wouldn’t let Izuku do this. But he remembered how Izuku begged him to stay and—

All of a sudden it would be 7 AM and time for Katsuki to get ready for the day, no closer to an answer than when he first woke up. 

Izuku was always waiting for him now, bouncing brightly in the corridor to go to class together. It made Katsuki’s chest tight and warm, and before he could stop it, he slung an arm around the smaller one’s shoulders and held him close in the crook of his arm. 

“How’d you sleep, Kacchan?” Oh, to be blessed with bubbliness this early in the morning.  

“Fine,” he lied. “You?”

“Fine?” Izuku laughed. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“Then why’d you ask?” Katsuki snapped, before squeezing Izuku’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he murmured quickly. “I guess I am tired.”

Sweet, sweet Izuku, so practiced in his moods, only grinned brightly. “Kacchan needs to get more rest!” He lowered his voice and his eyes. “I can… if it’s dreams, or something, I can stay with you if… if you think it’d help.”

Katsuki considered this for the rest of the day. Would it help? Or would it just be another selfish move, destroying another person’s sleep cycle in the process?

But in the end, it wasn’t his decision. After everyone had gone to sleep, there was a mop of green curls standing at the door in All Might pajamas holding an extra pillow and demanding to be let in. 

“Just…just to sleep,” he said, blushing furiously. 

“Idiot,” Katsuki muttered, pulling him into bed. 

This time, when Katsuki woke up, he reached across Izuku’s waist. His eyes opened slowly and watched the slow rise and fall of his love’s chest, watched the slow pulse in his neck and how his hair fanned around the crown of his head like a halo. 

How could he be so cruel to this living angel?

He suddenly recoiled, and much to his chagrin, the movement stirred Izuku. 

“Kacchan?” he murmured sleepily. 

“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

But his eyes were already blinking open, already seeing the torment and anguish in the person in front of him. His gaze quickly went from bleary to awake. “What’s wrong?”

Katsuki had no words yet, but he felt a traitorous hand raise to gently caress the side of Izuku’s cheek. His skin was smooth, soft, so beautiful. Dappled with freckles and tinged with the slightest blush from the warmth of sleep. A living, breathing angel. He was so lucky, even if it was just for now. So lucky. 

“I wake up,” he whispered, “remembering everything I’ve ever said to you.” Izuku stilled. “Remembering every word, every time I’ve pushed you down, put you down. I remember all of it. And I feel this gaping in my chest, that only you fill, but I don’t deserve to have you fill it, because I got scared of what it means, and when I got scared I—“

His hand rested gently on Izuku’s cheek. “ You are better than me , in every single way. I don’t want to fuck this up, but I already have, irreparably, so many times. And I don’t know how to deal with that.”

It sat in the silence. 

Katsuki remembered one time when they were children, where it was just him and Izuku climbing a hill beneath a tree. There was no one around as far as the eye could see, and they decided to drop right there and dig for mud and worms. Before he knew it, Izuku laid down and passed out in the shade, and they stayed in that quiet breeze until twilight nipped at the sky and they had to go home. It was before the childishness and the cruelty and the sadness. Before the storm. Katsuki liked that memory. Just him and Izuku. Untainted. 

“Do you love me?”

“Yes, I love you.” The word tumbled out quickly, and he felt no shame or remorse. 

Izuku’s arm snaked around Katsuki’s waist to pull him closer. “And I love you. And… and I know what you’re saying.” He gulped. “The words, and the actions, I know they’re hard on you. But I wouldn’t be who I am today, I wouldn’t be Deku without you. And I’m happy with that. So please don’t think that because you think I do. It got a little much because it hurt to feel like we cared about each other and we couldn’t show it, not because I thought you hated me.”

Katsuki’s vision blurred, and Izuku reached up and brushed the tears away. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” He reached up and pushed their lips together. “It’s okay.”

Kissing Izuku was putting kindling on a flame. It burned brighter, warmer, with more intensity. Katsuki pulled him in closer, impossibly close, and slid their lips together like something within him was missing and finally was found. His hand gripped the back of Izuku’s neck and stayed there, and he kept kissing kissing kissing like his life depended on it because frankly, it did. 

It’s unclear whose tongue swiped across whose lips first, or whose teeth gnashed with whose. It was a devouring, a consensual exchange of souls between an angel and a demon at a crossroads wedding and Katsuki felt like he was being forged through fire. 

Izuku broke away first, panting, eyes blazing. Katsuki could only look at him, his hands still gripping the hair on the back of Izuku’s head. 

“Do you believe me?” 

Katsuki could only laugh breathlessly. 

The sunset was beautiful. The ceremony was beautiful. Everything was just gorgeous. 

It took Izuku some time to stop crying, but no one could blame him. A wedding damn-near twenty years in the making? The only reason Katsuki didn’t cry was because he already did it on Kirishima the night before. 

“He’s too perfect for me, even now,” he hiccuped between sips of whiskey. 

“You’ve really gotta get over that, man. He’s so in love with you it’s stupid. You’re so in love with him it’s disgusting. That’s all that matters.”

“But he deserves better,” Katsuki groaned, finishing off the last of his drink. “Can I have another?”

“Absolutely not. I will not be responsible for any hangovers or drunk ‘are you sure you want to marry hideous old me’ texts before this wedding. I only get to be the best man for my best friends once, damn it.”

“But he’s… he’s…” And cue the water works, the stupid sappy sentimental water works that only came out when Izuku was involved. Cute babies? Nothing. Pet death in a movie? Sad, but no dice. Death of an actual human person? Solemn stoicism. 

Midoriya Izuku?

Goner, man. Fucking goner. 

That being said, he already got it out of his system, and now it was Izuku’s turn. 

The one that got him was Uraraka’s toast, talking about the light in his eyes when it came to Katsuki. “Deku-kun is the happiest, most wonderful person anyone could ever care to meet.” True. “Just to look at him is to feel comfortable and safe.” Correct. “But to see him when he’s looking at Kacchan? The way he lights up, his eyes shine, his whole demeanor brightens in a way that rivals the sun… and the way Kacchan looks significantly less like a murder god when Deku-kun is around.” Big laugh, yeah yeah yeah . She turned and tipped her flute toward the couple. “I wish you both nothing but the most enduring and exuberant happiness.” And cue the water works. 

Their dance was slow and sweet, to some British song that Izuku’s mom came to them with. Izuku’s head rested gently on Katsuki’s shoulder, his eyes caught on the band glinting on his finger. “It doesn’t feel real.”

“In a good way?”

“In the best way,” he replied emphatically. 

Katsuki hummed, before humming along to the song. “Your mom picked something nice.”

“She’s still so happy we liked it.”

“Are you happy?”

Izuku hummed and smiled. “I don’t think I could be happier, until probably tomorrow.”

“Big, sappy nerd.”

“ Your big sappy nerd, need I remind you.”

“Yes, mine .”

The honeymoon was in a week, Izuku wanted to take a European cruise and that was the soonest available date. So they returned home, and got undressed. Katsuki started to water the plants he’d neglected in the morning in his rush out the door. Izuku cleaned the few plates in the kitchen sink. All Katsuki could think about in the picture of domesticity was how happy he could be with another person, with his guns put down and his pride put away. 

There was a moment when they were kids, when Izuku’s hair caught the sun just right, and he lit up like an emerald. Katsuki remembered thinking that he was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, shining and glowing beneath the rays. Izuku’s head turned right then, and said something about the All Might action figure he was playing with. Katsuki didn’t remember what he said now. But he remembered the smile, and the eyes, and the brightness. 

When Izuku turned over his shoulder to look at him, the glow of the kitchen lamp lighting him up from the front, Katsuki distinctly remembered that moment. The same eyes, the same smile, the same brightness. 

Slowly, Katsuki made his way over and wrapped his arms around Izuku’s waist and nestled his chin in the crook of his neck and just breathed. 

“Hello to you too,” Izuku laughed breathlessly. 

“Hello, husband.”

“Oh, I’m the sap?”

“Shut up and say it back, nerd.”

“Shut up or say it back, which one is it?”

Katsuki growled and nipped at Izuku’s neck, causing the smaller man to yelp and laugh. “Husband! Husband! Husband!”

“That’s what I thought you said,” Katsuki said with a grin, turning Izuku around to face him. “Hi.”

“You said that already.”

“I love you.”

The world was quiet. The sounds of cars whirring in the distance, the faint buzz of the lamp behind Izuku’s head. If Katsuki tried, he might have been able to hear his heart beat. 

“I love you too.”