Chapter Text
.”.you moved on. Let me try and do the same.”
“He’s so stupid.” Was what Katsuki had thought of those words, looking at his childhood friend and long-time rival that night. He was so stupid if he thought he’d move on. How does one move on from dying? From what he’d experienced and seen, felt?
No, Katsuki hadn’t moved on and he still found himself trying to catch up to Izuku Midoriya who remained oblivious and repressed in the light of it all. When he’d first broken down in that hospital, chest seizing from his injuries and eyes stinging with his tears, he thought they’d talk. Call it selfish or wholly self assured in his importance to the other, but he thought Izuku would be the one to reach out and bridge that gap that was between them in the end of it all so they could move forwards together; but nothing happened.
His mother told him to leave him be in his grief, seeing how inside her son was fuming and hurt, unable to place the betrayal he felt at knowing Izuku was there and had seen the aftermath of what had happened but failed to mention anything about it. Jeanist admitted to having told him his last words, Edgeshot himself seemed to know that Katsuki needed Izuku when he was repairing his heart and Shigaraki, his goddamn murderous self, had left him as a present for Deku to snap. And he did snap, it was all over the TV broadcast and the news, circulating virally online for a long time due to the pure strength Izuku emanated. The way blackwhip lashed out, in what netizens believed was a broken heart at seeing him hurt (not dead, god forbid they let a seventeen year-old die) and muffled his screams, his tears was something that had moved them all. When anyone spoke of hero Deku, it was of that moment of carnal anger and hurt followed by the black whip overlay that puppeteered his body when he could no longer move.
But, those tears and that anger had disappeared when he looked up at Katsuki as if he were the very air he needed to breathe once he was on his feet again. With his heartbeat in his ears, he’d seen those eyes clear so ferociously that they glowed neon green as he reached for him when he fell back into battle. He’d caught him, he’d used what was left of his strength for him, and Katsuki was not oblivious to think he’d do that for just about anybody.
Katsuki fought, and fought and fought during that war even if he physically felt he couldn’t move. His limbs locked up, his chest burning and throat constrained with its difficulty to breathe but he rose from the dead to see him, to save All Might and then push Izuku forwards using explosions just about anywhere he could just to help him get to the end. Just to win this together since he could never forgive himself if he’d just gone to the hospital in the end. He had to see it through, see him through.
And Izuku Midoriya hadn’t said anything.
Katsuki told him how he thought they’d be on each other's heels for the rest of their lives, and Izuku merely smiled with that shaky voice of his and tried to reassure him it was all fine. He thought he’d tell him more about what happened, about One for All and what he did after seeing him there, or at least ask Katsuki what Shigaraki said when he fought him while he was displaced on the other side of battle but he didn’t. And, at some point, after him asking after the embers, they faded and Izuku retreated further into himself with that mockery of his heroic smile. Genuine smiles, like the one he gave him when he got the mecha suit, were rare no matter how hard Izuku tried to seem excited for them all to be moving forwards without him.
For eight years Katsuki waited, every time he visited Izuku thinking this was it, Izuku would talk to him and they’d be better and he wouldn’t feel so hurt. So bitter at knowing Uraraka got the words he himself so desperately needed to hear but all he got was those flashes of an opening before Izuku was blocked off again. With everyone watching them, their every move, at first he thought Izuku was waiting to tell him when alone but when inside together with Katsuki’s feelings bubbling up in his throat, they spoke of nothing but superficial things.
It made Katsuki wonder how much was there for him to atone, still, to make him comfortable with him. Was it his fault? When he caught Izuku staring into space, with his brows furrowed and an analytical look in his eyes he often wondered if he was thinking of him, hoping whatever he was holding back would just make its way out. So, he busied himself with the thought of Izuku’s future that felt so already heavily intertwined with his own, lifting him up so they were equals again and reaching for his hand. He needed him to take his hand, the need for it so deep rooted in Katsuki’s psyche that he couldn’t let it go. That damn river scene in his head, over and over, replaced with Izuku taking Ochakos hand, Iidas hand or Aoyama’s hand but never his own.
I remember how the weight of your hand felt against my chest, though, as if you were holding me in. I remember how heavy, firm your hand was in my own when you used what was left of your strength to help me save our mentor. I remember that look you gave me, the hopeless, scared look of losing me one more time if you let me go. Why couldn’t you just tell me how you felt so I don’t feel so fucking crazy thinking I’m reading into things.
When he spoke to him at night, at the bars after the few patrol nights they could get him to do alongside his teaching job, he wondered why it wasn’t enough after it all. After getting him the suit, which took him years and a lot of bullying All Might and the others to never give up, and having Izuku beside him as they took different career paths but still found ways to fight together, he still felt he was missing that assurance.
And he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t need Izuku to hold him together just because Tomura decided they were the closest together. He shouldn’t need Izuku to tell him he’d finally caught up to him. He shouldn’t take the words that he’d be stuck behind him forever, weaker than him forever, by a villain so to heart but he did. And some nights, when he had his own nightmares of that war he woke up crying with a silent scream ripping through his chest and increasing his heart rate until his watch was beeping loudly from the monitor.
His heart beat in his ears, blood rushing as he burned everywhere. Everything hurt for a very long time, as he healed and relearned how to use his arms and his right hand, learned how to use the explosions all over his body. It was a shame it all grew out of pain, but that seemed to be where he thrived best.
–
“You’re getting better with that.” Katsuki commented, watching as Izuku moved through the new iterations made to his suit, trying to get used to the coils they added to replicate blackwhip. He often misses that the most of his quirk, or maybe it was the static. He missed how the air felt charged when he activated it, how it felt like soft tingles on his own skin when they stood too close as if Izuku were touching him; enveloping him completely without having to physically reach out. It was a simple form of intimacy and now he wasn’t even graced with that.
Izuku had been unreachable since the embers disappeared, not due to the quirk but just due to their lack of communication now without the buffer of his quirk. “It’s still not good enough, I’m lagging behind on catching you.”
“I’m fast, that’s all. I ain’t exactly made to be caught.”
“And you think the villains will be slow?” Izuku cocked a brow at him, eyes frustrated and tone low as he rolled his shoulders. The suit did wonders, defining every ridge of muscle in his body with thick, reinforced metal without making him look too bulky like All Might. “With this suit I’m already seen as a weakness to any team, if the suit falls I fail, so I need to at least have the mechanics seamless so I can grab what I can just in case. Plus what use is all the resources you guys gathered after the embers disappeared if I don’t know how to work it. Now come at me again. Stop holding back.”
It shouldn’t have been funny but it was, having Izuku Midoriya of all people tell him to stop holding back and to give it his all again. He wanted it to be like when they played catch-a-Kacchan in high school, having Katsuki berate him and slam explosions into him but he just couldn’t. Even when he gave him that annoyed, frustrated and restrained look Katsuki couldn’t do that to the same extent as he did when he was young.
Not that Izuku was weak or slow, no he was still fast and that suit made him nearly as fast as he used to be and he still kept all the muscle mass if not more now then he had then.
“If you want me to stop holding back you need to dodge.”
“A little burn isn’t going to kill me, Kacchan. I trust you.” He grumbled resolutely and Katsuki just smiled somewhat, eyes alight with amusement and heart thrumming with adoration at the confidence that exuded off of him in his statement. God, he hated when his body did that, lit up for him like fireworks just at his words.
Crouching slightly, Katsuki let his arms swing in the air, stretching and flexing his hands before lifting the palms forwards. He met his eyes for a moment to indicate his beginning, Izuku tucking his chin down in agreement, not looking away.
Taking off into the air and bounding off of the padded walls of the training room, Katsuki began to attack him at his best speed. Izuku had the strength to rival most men, it was just this that he had to understand: catching a quick moving object. Katsuki was the fastest.
Small bursts of light bloomed around the room where explosions would break off of his body in different areas, pushing him around in the air in controlled motions despite his body being nothing but a blur. It was beautiful to see from afar, the cascading glow of oranges and yellow that sparked with heat like electricity. Izuku misses when it was coupled with green electricity, when his static intertwined seamlessly with the heat that is Katsuki Bakugou.
“You’re not focused.” He could practically hear Kudou say, a phantom in the recesses of his mind. Of all the wielders, it felt like he could see how much of a distraction Katsuki was back in high school and just how much the vault in Izuku’s mind was tethered to him. If he were here he’d say something amusing, he’s sure, tease him for it or give him some sort of advice.
But if he were here they wouldn’t be in this situation and Izuku would have caught Katsuki already, and felt how his skin bloomed with warmth beneath blackwhips pseudo-touch.
Shaking his head, he let his eyes follow the movement of his childhood friend, let the coils mechanically whir as he honed in on that feeling. He’d caught Katsuki before, and though he may not have been as fast in high school as he was now, he was still able to be taken.
That thought is scary. That someone could grab him, take him out of the air. He fell like a wounded butterfly before, that was the scariest part. I choked, I couldn’t catch him then. I swore to always catch him.- And for a brief moment all he could see was Tomuras quirk piercing Katsuki through the sky after a solid warmth knocked him aside. Then all he could see was red.
The red of carmine eyes and the warmth of a warm, muscular body over his own. Steam escaped Katsuki’s palms from where they pressed into the cool metal of Izuku’s suit and as his eyes refocused he realized he’d been knocked onto the floor.
“You’re not paying attention. We should stop for today.” He sighed, and Izuku tried not to think about the disappointment in his eyes as he said it. His brows were down-turned sharply, furrowed enough to make his forehead dimple and nose scrunch. Firm thighs bracketed his hips, holding him down when he tried to shift upwards, and in nothing but joggers and a tank-top he was a force to be reckoned with. He didn’t need a fancy suit or support, he just was.
“I’m okay.” He mumbled, easily tucking his hands beneath Katsuki’s knees and lifting him at the same time he got up from the floor. He set him on his feet, to the side, dusting off his cape and rolling his shoulders again, feeling the clink and drag of the suit's movement as it housed his body comfortably enough that he hadn’t even felt the fall. “I just spaced out.”
He was wallowing in the lack of his speed as if he hadn’t manhandled a pro hero who was not at all light like he weighed nothing more than a pillow. Katsuki hated that he got so self-conscious. “You’re learning, Izuku, for fucks sake, don’t-”
“That’s not what I was thinking about, please, Kacchan.” And looking at him now, he could see the fear in his gaze. A gloved hand reached for his face, cupping his cheek and skimming the scar just beneath his eye on the same side Izuku’s own face scar was. It was the same look Izuku had given him once before during catch-a-kacchan, when blackwhip had sprawled out of him but couldn’t aim at Katsuki no matter how hard he tried. He was thinking about Tomura doing it instead the same way Katsuki still thought of Dabi’s hand curling around the back of his neck or the sludge villain invading his mouth with grime that took him months to get used to eating soup again without throwing up.
You moved on, he’d said. Let me do the same.
None of us moved on, Izuku. Least of all me.