Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Deku Izuku,

I’m sorry. I fucked up… Please forgive me. 

… 

Izuku, 

You were right. I didn’t understand, but I’m learning. I bought some books to read. I’m gonna figure this out. 

… 

Izuku, 

Did you know that approximately 2.4% of teenagers suffer from agoraphobia with severe impairment?

I didn’t know that. 

… 

Izuku,

There’s this association called Everyday Courage. They have online support groups for people to share stories and strategies. 

… 

Izuku, 

I miss you. That shit I said, I shouldn’t have, but that’s all there is to it. Don’t push me away. I’m happy when I’m with you. I shouldn’t have crossed that line, but I swear to you, it wasn’t because I needed to. 

A few weeks passed since that day when Izuku found Mom on the floor, and yet, so much had changed in that small amount of time. 

Izuku’s weekly meetings with Dr. Yagi, the doctor that Tenya had recommended, began. And as much as Izuku wouldn’t want to admit it, he actually liked Dr. Yagi. 

The meetings themselves were usually quite consistent. However, the location of them seemed to change with every week. 

(It hadn’t always been like it is now. Meeting at his house because he couldn’t make it to the car without feeling like the world was coming to an end.)

There had been a time when Izuku had been able to make it. And from what he remembered, Dr. Yagi’s office was at the local hospital, ten minutes away. 

Izuku remembers blasting hard rock through his headphones during the drive. And keeping his eyes squeezed shut. He was too scared to look out the window for fear that he’d faint just from looking out. 

When they finally got there Mom asked, “Think you can make it inside?”

Izuku barely managed to shake his head. “No. I-I can’t do it.” His voice was hoarse and weak. Like he hadn’t had anything to drink in days.

Mom nodded, apparently she didn’t have the energy to fight his decision, and hopped out the car to go fetch the doctor from his office.

Therapy would have to take place in the car.

Mom came back out a few minutes later accompanied by the good doctor. Mom’s lips were moving, she was no doubt filling the doc in on Izuku’s latest episode. Ugh . As usual, Dr. Yagi laid a hand on her shoulder and let her know that there was no reason to apologize.

They parted ways. Mom veered off towards the diner across the way and the doctor set his gaze on Izuku. He flinched. Dr. Yagi made it over in a few steps, due to his long legs, and hopped into the driver’s seat of Mom’s car.

“What went wrong?” The doc asked. “You were so close.”

Izuku sighed. Easy for him to say. He was the one with totem poles for legs. “I couldn’t do it. I don’t think that my legs would’ve carried me.” 

He wasn’t lying. The whole ordeal of getting into the car had left him exhausted. Both physically and mentally. Izuku probably couldn’t make it to the door if somebody paid him.

“That’s fair,” Dr. Yagi said. “Then we’ll take this as a victory. You made it to the hospital, that’s a start.”

Back then, Izuku really did believe Dr. Yagi’s statement. That he’d get better with each passing day. (Hell, he was even sitting in a car, which was basically the cause of his illness!)

If only he knew then how wrong he’d been to think that.

After he sends Katsuki away, Izuku stays in his bedroom. Isolated from everybody. It’s for the best since all he seemed to do was hurt people or let people hurt him. 

Mom brings food to his door and leaves it. Makes him bathe and do schoolwork, too. She seems to be understanding about the situation, but Izuku knows it’s only a matter of time before she too gets fed up with him. 

… 

He’s feeling adventurous one day. Goes over to the window and peeks out. What a huge mistake that is. Because Katsuki’s out there with those two guys from weeks before. Izuku closes the blinds so fast that the settled dust on them starts flying. It makes him sneeze.

He doesn’t get out of bed for the rest of the day.

… 

The passing days all blur into one. Time has no meaning. Life seems monotonous; a constant cycle of wake, do schoolwork, eat, sleep. 

Over and over again.

… 

It seems like it was just yesterday everything was fine and dandy. Now things were completely and utterly shitty.

… 

A useless waste of space. That is what Midoriya Izuku is.

He’s finally managed to make it to the bathroom after a couple hundred unsuccessful tries. (Everytime he works up the energy to get up, he decides that the trip is too far and lies back down.) 

As he’s drying his hands on a hand towel, Izuku looks up at the mirror. As soon as he does it, he wishes that he hadn’t. Because the Izuku staring back at him is not the same one from a week earlier. 

No, this Izuku is similar to the one he’d seen when he first let Katsuki in all that time ago. Weak, frail, tired. The only difference being that now, he looks so much more pitiful. (If that is even possible.) Broken. 

Suddenly, all of the pent up emotions that he’s been holding in for the past week come flooding back in an overwhelming torrent. Of course, he’s angry at Katsuki for the things that he said, but mostly, Izuku is upset with himself. 

For letting it get this bad. For ever thinking that someone other than Mom would be able to understand his craziness. 

Izuku drops the towel on the counter just as his bottom lip starts to tremble. “I hate you,” He seethes at his reflection through clenched teeth. “I fucking hate you.” Tears spill out of his eyes and roll down his cheeks, dripping onto his shirt.

The urge to pick is burning deep inside his stomach. He takes a deep breath, but the air comes in too thick and heavy. He leans onto the sink to try and keep his balance. It’s no good. He’s spiraling and he can’t stop it.

Panic is bad. Panic mixed with disdain for yourself is even worse. It only gets worse when Katsuki’s words start playing on loop in his head. 

“One day you’ll be able to do all of those things and more.”

It makes his ears ring. Izuku wonders how many times he’s said that to other people. His best guess is never. Not even once.

God, he’s such a freak. He wants to crawl out of his own scabby skin.

The room is spinning. There is no one else here, but Izuku feels like there are hands on him, pushing him around in a circle. His head throbs and his teeth start to chatter.

Most of the time, with help from Mom, Izuku can ride out a panic attack. But Mom’s downstairs working, and there’s no way he can get to her or even call for help. So Izuku just falls to the floor and curls up into a ball, waiting for it to pass. 

“You don’t have to give up on yourself just because you’re goin’ through a rough patch.”

“Shh.” Izuku presses a finger to his lips, tries to quiet his head, but the noises still persist. Control seems further and further out of reach. He sits up, scooting back until his back hits the side of the tub.  He turns his left arm over so that his palm is facing upwards. The fingers on his other hand glide over his arm, tracing the lumps and bumps of brown scabs. 

“Please stop.” Izuku covers his face with his hands, mashing the heels of his hands into his eyes until he sees colorful spots.

All of those things that Katsuki said, the words that have been playing in his head non-stop since he left, the words that have officially driven Izuku over the edge, are entirely true. Izuku realizes that now. As much as it hurts for him to think about, he knows that Katsuki was right.

His words were just a catalyst for Izuku to finally realize it, a microscope through which he could see all the broken parts of himself. But here’s the thing, Izuku can’t fix himself. Dr. Yagi and Mom can’t either. Neither of them have been able to for the four years he’s been shut in this house, and at this point, Izuku’s not sure if it is even possible for him to be fixed.

Why can’t he be normal? Why can’t he think the way that normal people do? Izuku so desperately would have liked to be with Katsuki, to be his friend again. But he can’t. Because Katsuki is gone, and Izuku knows that he has run him off for good. 

The only thing Izuku can think to do, the only thing that will numb the pain, is scratching. So he does. 

He digs his nubby nails into the back of his neck, one, two, three times, taking in some shaky breaths before he starts over again. He keeps scratching until his neck is stinging with pain. But it isn’t enough.

Izuku brings his hands down from his now raw neck and focuses his attention on other parts of his body. His arms. Thighs. Face.

All too quickly, Izuku is losing himself.

… 

It’s almost thirty minutes later when Izuku finally leaves the bathroom. He’s hungry, but ignores the feeling since all he wants to do now is go get in bed and take a long nap. 

Quietly, Izuku opens the door to his bedroom and shuts it behind him. When he turns around, he almost loses it. Because sitting at the foot of his bed watching him are his only friends, Tenya and Ochako.

Izuku isn’t really in the mood to see them, nor is he in the mood to hear about what’s been happening at school with Katsuki. So he asks them, rather rudely, “What are you doing here?”

Ochako gasps and Tenya’s eyes go wide. He isn’t the least bit sure why. Izuku follows their gazes and looks down. He realizes why. His fingernails have blood caked under them, but worst of all, they can see the open sores all over his body. Shit .

Tenya is on his feet first, inspecting Izuku’s arms and legs all while shouting at him. Izuku can't even hear what he’s saying, he’s too busy looking at Ochako, who’s looking back at him with her hands over her mouth, teary-eyed. 

And it hits him. He has failed them.

Izuku could care less about failing himself. But he can’t stomach knowing Ochako and Tenya are disgusted, disappointed, and tired of him. He can’t.

Tears are streaming down his cheeks and he can’t stop them. (Katsuki was right. He was a titty baby.) He can’t do anything right. He’s worthless, useless; his friends should leave him here since he would probably never do anything with his life but make their lives miserable and—

“We’re not leaving you, Deku-kun!” Ochako’s yelling at him now as she wipes his tears with her sleeve. “Why would you say that?”

Izuku isn’t even surprised that he said that aloud. His brain is on it’s last leg, currently.

“We would never do something so… unbelievably cruel,” Tenya says. “Especially considering we are responsible for… this.”

What?

“You think… you’re responsible for me having one out of a billion panic attacks?”

Tenya frowns. Actually frowns. “I’d hardly call this a panic attack, Midoriya-kun. This,” He points to Izuku’s scabby neck, arms, legs. His entire body. “Is self-harm.”

There goes that word again. Izuku is getting sick of hearing it.

He opens his mouth to voice such, but Ochako sharply says, “We don’t wanna hear any excuses, okay? You’re hurting yourself, Deku-kun, and we can’t just let it happen. We’ve gotta tell your mom.”

“No!”

Both Tenya and Ochako flinch at the harshness of his voice. He didn’t mean to be that loud. But no way was he letting them rope Mom, the biggest worrier in the universe, into this.

“Please don’t tell her… please, I won’t do it again, I promise!” And he really won’t. He won’t do anything that will warrant his friends to look at him the way they did earlier. “Just don’t tell her. I-I don’t want her to worry…” 

“But you want us to?” Ochako huffs heavily and walks out of the room, apparently done with the conversation. If she’s going to tell on him, Izuku is literally dead. And the saddest part is he brought this on himself.

Tenya pushes up his glasses, and Izuku sees that his own eyes are wet with tears. Geez . Izuku wraps his friend in a hug. It’s the first time he’s had physical contact in days. Tenya seems oblivious to how touch-starved Izuku is because he’s hugging him just as tight.

It’s a while before they break the embrace. And when they do, Tenya asks him, “Have you heard of Everyday Courage?”

“No,” Izuku shakes his head.

“It is an online support group for people dealing with mental illnesses.”

Oh.

Tenya spills into another explanation of it, and Izuku only halfway listens. He isn’t so sure that he needs to talk to other crazies like himself. But as he thinks, it isn’t like he has anything to lose. He’s at the lowest low. The only way to go is up.

“Thanks, Iida-kun. I’ll look into it. I promise.”

Tenya nods.

“Stop isolating yourself, please?”

Ochako?

Izuku turns around to find her standing in the doorway alone. She hadn’t told Mom?

She wrings her hands. “You really scared us, Deku. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here… so please don’t do anything to… leave us.”

And here he was telling his friends to leave when they were scared of him leaving. Wow.

Ochako walks back in and sits next to him. “We’re really coming by to visit more often. Because it might not have been our fault, but we weren’t there for you when you needed us.”

“Guys,” Izuku grabs Tenya by the sleeve and then Ochako too. “You have to understand that you didn’t break me, and you can’t fix me.”

“Who can fix you, then?” Ochako asks rather bluntly.

Izuku ignores her. “I need to grow up.” He pauses to wipe at the corners of his eyes and at his snotty nose. “I’ve let my mom do everything for me, and it felt good and safe… But, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.”

“We are here for you, Midoriya-kun,” Tenya says patting his back.

“Yeah,” Ochako adds. “Don’t ever feel like you’re alone. You’ve always got us!” She takes his hand and squeezes it. And for the first time in a week, Izuku smiles. And it is truly genuine. 

Izuku spends the rest of the day with his friends. He lets Ochako and Tenya patch up and clean his scabby body, and by the time they’ve left, he’s left with tons of hugs from the two of them, and the link to the support group from Tenya.

… 

“Izuku, sweetie,” Mom creeps into his room the next morning, quiet as a mouse. “How are you feeling?”

“Dead inside.”

“You’re not dead inside.” She darts over to the window and snatches the curtains open. Light fills the room. Izuku recoils as if he’s a vampire. He almost lets out a hiss like one, too. “Up, up, up! You promised your friends that you’d get out of bed today.”

Did he really?

“It’s only…” He looks over at the clock on the nightstand. Nine-thirty. Izuku groans and snatches the blankets back over his head. Mom was always brutal when she was trying to save him from himself. 

“I was hoping that you’d come down and have breakfast with me. I made pancakes in the shape of stars.” Izuku pokes his head out of the covers and considers blowing her off for the millionth time this week, but she looks so helpless. Her shoulders are slumped, probably from the immense stress she’s carrying, all because of him.

“Sure,” Izuku replies.

“Really?” She doesn’t even try to contain her shock.

Izuku only nods.

Mom then hops up and dashes out the door, rolling up her sleeves. Izuku guesses that she hasn’t made the pancakes yet and used them as a catalyst to get him out of bed. 

“They’ll be ready in five — ” 

“Mom?” Izuku calls before she starts down the stairs.

“Hmm?”

“Did we get any mail?”

There’s a pause and he hears her take a deep breath before she speaks. “No, sweetie. I’m sorry.” He should really stop asking her. He knows that it makes her feel bad, which makes him feel even worse.

“Maybe he’ll write tomorrow,” Mom says. “He’s probably just stressed with school, that’s all.”

It has been a few days since Katsuki last left a letter. And a week since the blowup.

Mom pads back into Izuku’s room. “I wish you’d talk to me. It’s been a long time since I couldn't figure out what you’re thinking.”

He doesn’t know how to talk to her. He doesn’t know how to talk . He can’t figure out what he’s thinking on his own. He’s not even sure if he wants to. Izuku was being hyperbolic when he said that he was dead inside, but he is stuck in some kind of wasteland. He let Katsuki’s words take him into a dark place and has been stuck there ever since. 

He’s always been a slave to his thoughts, always at the mercy of what he can and can’t be. But Katsuki brought expectation here. Change too. And now he’s not sure how to cope with the results.

First he was fairly-average Izuku. Then he was too-sick-to-function Izuku. Now he’s somewhere in between the two.

“Love you, Mom.” Izuku says. It’s all that he can think of to respond to her with.

Her face lights up and she replies with, “I love you too, sweetie.” She leaves and Izuku hauls his lazy butt out of bed to clean up.

… 

Here’s the thing about fears. Everyone is only born with two. The fear of falling, basiphobia, and the fear of loud noises, phonophobia. All other fears are learned. At least, that’s what it said in those pamphlets that Mom brought all those years ago.

The purpose of fear is to alert you to danger. All fears can be unlearned. Therefore, it is important to monitor one’s thought life and discern between negative and positive thoughts. Keep a journal and identify your fears. Then, identify the emotions that go along with them. 

Now, Izuku is downstairs standing in front of the window trying to decide what he is most afraid of. He is identifying the emotions that accompany his present fear. Because there is Katsuki across the way, laughing and smiling with his family. Continuing to live his life, while Izuku isn’t. 

His fear isn’t that he won’t ever leave the house again, or that he’ll never overcome agoraphobia. (Though, those thoughts do float around in his head more often than not.) No. 

His fear is that he’s lost a friend forever. Katsuki made Izuku feel like he was normal for once in his life. He is afraid that it was all for naught.

Izuku closes the blinds and slinks to the kitchen to eat pancakes with Mom. He’s not ready to face his fears yet.

Izuku dabs at a particularly large scab on his cheek with a cotton ball of hydrogen peroxide. It stings, but he knows that it’s better than the sore becoming infected from being unclean. 

Since his episode in the bathroom two days ago, Izuku has not picked, even though he has had the urge to do so. He wants to test himself. To see how long he can go without doing it. For himself, but mostly for his friends.

Tenya has been monitoring his recovery via video chat, while Ochako opts for texts. Izuku is so grateful for them. Because if it had not been for their concern, Izuku is quite sure that he would have picked his skin until there was nothing else to pick.

…  

Izuku decides to take up Tenya’s suggestion and googles the website. Turns out, it’s the exact same one that Katsuki had written about in his note from before. Hm.

Quickly, Izuku sets up a profile and clicks around the site until he finds the support group for agoraphobia. After reading a few of the posts and looking at some of the member’s profiles, Izuku realizes that it isn’t at all what he’d thought it would be. Instead of old, creepy men, most of the people in the group are young or middle-aged.

Everyone is really friendly and amicable, letting Izuku know that they’ve been through or are currently experiencing what he’s been struggling with. It makes Izuku feel like he’s wanted. Needed, even. 

Mom pops in a few minutes later, while he’s still online and actually starts tearing up when he tells her what it is. She’s so, so dramatic. (Just like her son.) But Izuku loves her so.

… 

He is here. In a car. Alive . 

And to think that he ended up out here by a fluke. (He got distracted while washing clothes. The laundry room is right by the garage.)

Izuku closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, not wanting his fear to get the best of him. He can be brave. He can be strong. Or at least try to.

Izuku exhales and begins counting.

“One, two, three.”

His foot is tapping like crazy. He feels tingly all over. But he has to make it. One-hundred seconds. A minute and a half.

“Twenty-two. T-twenty-three.” Focus. Steady. In and out. In and out. Oh, how difficult this is. Especially since he’s practically hyperventilating. This was supposed to help him. It was a tip from the support group! Some help it was. He felt woozy. How was passing out supposed to help him?

And then he hears, “Izuku.”

It’s Mom. She’s looking for him. But he can’t break his concentration. Not after it took so long for him to get here. He has to finish.

“Forty-nine… Fifty,” Halfway there. “Fifty-one.” It still seems so far away. It hasn’t even been a minute yet. Izuku felt like he was in a vacuum. 

“Izuku?” Mom calls.

He barely makes it through the sixties and seventies. How is he still going? He’s confused. Drained.

“Eighty… nine. Ninety.” It’s the homestretch. Izuku can still hear Mom calling for him. But the end is so close.

“Izuku! Where are you?”

He is here. At the end. One-hundred seconds braver. One-hundred seconds stronger.

Izuku opens his eyes, heart pounding. Mouth dry. He is still here. “I’m here,” He answers. Mom comes running. 

“Izuku?” Her eyes are huge. Izuku could probably give ten reasons why.

“Yes?” 

“I was looking for you, sweetie! Why are you in the car?”

He swallows. “I was just… thinking.”

Mom hops into the driver's seat. “Well, don’t scare me like that ever again! There’s nothing more surprising and frightening than an agoraphobic child who’s gone missing.”

Even Izuku has to laugh at that one.

Mom smiles and takes his still shaky hand. Izuku can see that she’s tired. That she’s worried. And he knows that it probably won’t ever stop. But beyond the worry and fatigue, he sees something else. Pride. Mom is… proud of him. Proud of him for making it a minute and a half outside of the house. And that makes him feel like he’s the son she deserves.

“C’mon,” She wipes his sweaty forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

… 

He’s trying to read as he sits on the floor near the window, watching Mom as she works in her garden, when the wildest thing occurs. Fuschia, the Bakugou’s dog, wiggles her way under the fence separating the two yards.

Mom has her back to the fence, and doesn’t see it. So when Fuschia sneaks up on her, Mom lets out a yelp. Izuku shakes his head as his mother scolds the puppy with a wag of her finger, but it seems Fuschia only wants to play.

Mom shoos her away. The perceptive little dog sniffs around a bit before she notices Izuku and scuttles up to the window, places her fat paws against the glass.

“Hi,” Izuku laughs softly at her butt wiggles and excited barks. And then he gets an awful thought. That this situation is a backwards zoo. He’s trapped inside and Fuschia’s free to live how she pleases. (Izuku really does hate his fucked-up brain.)

Being that the fence isn’t very tall, it’s easy to see over into the neighbors’. Izuku sees all of what happens next. Katsuki peering over the top, seeing Mom, and for some reason, deciding to come over and say hi.

It’s like something in a Lifetime movie. Everything slows as Katsuki jumps, latches onto the top of the fence, and throws his legs over. Izuku, being the weak, worthless worm that he is, watches in awe of the glory that is Katsuki. (More preferably, Katsuki’s strapping arms.)

Mom beams, though Izuku isn’t sure what for. Why is she consorting with the enemy? (Okay, maybe that was a bit much.)

Katsuki looks surprisingly pleased as he goes back and forth with Mom. What Izuku wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall.

Fuschia barks again and Katsuki looks directly to where Izuku’s sitting. He wants to collapse his body against the floor. But he fights it, instead stares intently at his book. He can feel Katsuki’s gaze on him. But he is not going to make eye contact. Because he is a weak, worthless worm.

He doesn’t look up. Not even when he hears Fuschia whining for attention. Not even as Katsuki stands there, waiting for him to look up. Not even as he scoops up Fuschia, turns, and walks out of the gate. Gone.

  It’s the next afternoon when Izuku decides to bake cupcakes to keep himself occupied. 

He putters around the kitchen, getting the supplies he needs, but when he goes to pour the milk into the mixer, he accidentally bumps the on switch with his hip. The result is chaotic.

Batter goes everywhere . All over the floor, walls, and counter. And more specifically, all over himself. Thankfully it didn’t get into his hair, only on his clothes and arms. Ick.

After he finishes wiping up the batter, Izuku goes upstairs to change. He’s fumbling around in his drawers for a clean shirt when he stumbles upon them. The stress balls.

Izuku gets the idea to throw them away. As he’s reaching for them, he catches sight of his bony arms. They are littered with brown scabs and little, red, marks from where the skin hadn’t quite broken yet. 

Maybe, just maybe, he could try.

Tentatively, he takes one, squeezes it as hard as he can. It still won’t break. Oh, well .

He pulls a shirt over his head, grabs one of the balls, stuffs it in his pocket, and leaves the room to go do homework.

… 

Later on that night, Mom comes into Izuku’s bedroom fully-dressed, which is very unusual given that it’s almost seven o’ clock. “I’m going out, sweetheart,” She says. “There’s an emergency with a client’s order. Apparently, some of the bridesmaids dresses aren’t fitting correctly, and the wedding is in two days.”

Izuku puts his book down. “Yikes.”

“I know.” Mom tucks some loose strands of hair behind her ear rather nervously. “You know that I hate leaving you alone, but I need to go and help get them fixed. I probably won’t be back until late. Will you be okay fixing your own dinner?”

Izuku nods. Mom smiles and walks over to kiss him on the forehead. She turns to leave. “Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.”

Izuku nods again. “Okay.”

… 

Circular-shaped pasta, more commonly known as SpaghettiOs. It’s what’s for dinner. 

Izuku struggles to open the can with a manual can opener, finally gets it open, and pours its contents into a small pot before sitting it on the stove on high heat.

It cooks for a few minutes before Izuku takes the pot off the eye and pours the soup into a bowl. He sits at the table and spoons his way through the red, gloppy sauce. Every bite makes his insides gurgle and clench, but he powers through, reminding himself that he has to eat to stay alive. (Mom would be so proud.)

After he finishes eating, Izuku heads off down the hall. He’s checking the lock and bolt on the front door for the seventh time that night when he hears voices. Izuku’s heart starts to pound. Katsuki .

Don’t look. Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look, don’t look , is what’s repeating like a broken record in his head as he makes his way over to the porch window. When Izuku peeks through the curtains, tears spring to his eyes.

Katsuki is standing in his driveway with a lanky guy with chin-length, black hair, a dark-complected girl with pink, curly hair, and those two guys—one blond and one redheaded—that always seemed to be around.

All five of them are wearing shirts that have some obscure-looking band on the front of them. They must’ve been on their way to a concert of some sort. There are smiles all around and excited chatter going about. Izuku feels like he’s watching a coming-of-age sitcom.

Katsuki climbs into the driver’s side of his truck. The lanky guy climbs in beside him. His date? Maybe. The other three dash off and jump into a black car, with the blond and redhead in the front, and the girl in the back.

Izuku flinches when Katsuki’s truck growls to life. He wills Katsuki to look up, to look over at his house. He begs, pleads, prays. But, without a single glance in Izuku’s direction, Katsuki reverses his car out of the driveway, onto the road, and speeds off, closely followed by the car.

Izuku turns around, and with heavy eyes, surveys his empty house. Still. Silent. Alone. Suddenly, he’s transported to a cold place. A lonely place that has never seen a single ray of sun, but forever collects rain. 

This is Izuku’s fault.

He has broken something beautiful.

He cut away the one thing that made him feel like he wasn’t just waiting for death, and he did it because he let his mind run wild.

Katsuki was right. Izuku wasn’t angry because of him making assumptions about his future. They came undone when Izuku let his insecurities take control. Because he was obsessing over everything he wasn’t, and everything he thought that Katsuki wanted him to be.

Izuku should have listened to him. He should have trusted him.

Anxiety weedles its way into Izuku’s lungs and starts to suck out all of the oxygen until he feels like he can’t breathe. He’s spiraling, and there’s only one way he can think of to stop it. 

Izuku begins the treacherous climb up the staircase, and by the time he reaches the top, he’s sobbing. He stumbles blindly towards the bathroom and flings the door open. He fumbles for the light, and when he finally flicks it on, Izuku has to grab the sink to steady himself.

His reflection makes him feel sick. He’s gripping the edge of the sink so hard that his knuckles pop. “You sabotaged me!” He screams. “Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

Izuku sinks to the floor, his nubby nails already tracing along the length of his forearm. The sores that he last made have turned into scabs and started to fade. Izuku had pushed the incident to the back of his mind. It’s easier to live with himself when he does that.

He runs his fingers over the skin until he finds one of the bigger scabs. It is slightly raised and red around the edges, still healing. The thought of infection goes through his mind, so he moves to a smaller one below it. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, causing more tears to come out.

Katsuki’s face when Izuku told him that he liked the flowers and he started grinning like a kid in a candy store is burned onto the backs of his eyelids. He was only trying to help. He was only trying to help. If Izuku could have slowed his head for a second, they would still be together, maybe watching movies or playing video games.

Izuku wants to tell him that he’s sorry. That he’s insecure. That his head is a mess. That his anxiety was making even the smallest thought explode that night. Izuku wants to tell him that he’s been dreaming of doing things beyond the walls of this house. 

But more than anything, Izuku wants to tell Katsuki that he misses him.

Fingers poised, Izuku homes in on the sore, but then he remembers something. Something that can help. And that something happens to be in his pocket.

After wiping snot on the back of his hand, Izuku reaches into the pocket of his shorts and pulls out one of the stress balls. He can’t quite remember how it got there, but regardless, Izuku digs his nails into the ball. It’s somewhat frantic, and doesn’t at all feel the same as picking his skin. 

He is learning how to stop himself. Izuku can’t even begin to fathom what that means right now.

Weeping turns into tearless sobs as Izuku curls up into a ball on the floor, waiting for his head and heart to slow down. He hugs his knees so tight that they’re almost touching his chin. The ball stays in his hands. He keeps it close to his chest because he’s not sure that he doesn’t need it yet.

… 

It stings when Izuku opens his eyes. The bathroom light is bright, bathing everything it touches in a white light. Izuku unfolds his body from the awkward position that he’d fallen asleep in. Shakily, he clambers to his feet and lurches towards the door. 

Izuku looks around the bathroom, trying to figure out how he got there. His bearings are on the fritz, and for the longest time, Izuku can’t remember anything. It’s only when he feels something in his palms and opens his hands to reveal the stress ball that he remembers he came up here to self-harm. 

But he didn’t. He stopped himself. Something that he’d never been able to do before. Just to make sure, Izuku swipes his hands across his arms, legs, and face. They come back clean. No scabs, cuts, indentations.

Clean.

…

Izuku breezes around on a high for the rest of the night. There’s actual proof that he’s stopped himself from self-harming. That he’s taking a step in the right direction. It’s something to be happy about. Something to take his mind off his numerous worries.

He cleans up the kitchen from his dinner and checks the locks on the doors without a hitch, then is into bed at the reasonable time of two o’clock. There in bed, Izuku finally recalls what had sent him into his attack. Katsuki. Instinctively, he grabs his phone off the bedside table and opens a new message tab. His thumbs hover over the phone screen, but his mind is blank. 

Saying sorry is hard.

Izuku ends up staring at the blank message for so long that the phone screen goes black. He unlocks the phone again and stares some more. He stares and stares until his eyes get tired from the light.

Groaning, Izuku sets his phone back on the table. He needs to apologize. Desperately. Maybe then, he’ll be able to let Katsuki go and get on with his own life.

The next morning, Izuku gets on his computer to ask his friends on Everyday Courage for help. He types in the text box of the group chat: hey, any advice on apologizing to someone you’ve screwed things up with bc of anxiety/paranoia/self-doubt? asking for a friend :)

It doesn’t take long for the responses to come. Some reply with hilarious memes. Others share real experiences they’ve dealt with. They say things like “It’s nothing to be afraid of!” and “Just be honest with them (and yourself) and it’ll all work out.” Pleasant feelings fill Izuku’s chest. But a select few responses are less pleasant. Some of their apologies didn’t work out, unfortunately, and resulted in them losing touch with loved ones. Those warm feelings dissipate, and Izuku wants to dig his skin up just from the anxiety of it all. He has to accept that Katsuki may not want to hear what he has to say.

Izuku’s throat tightens. He squeezes his stress ball and holds his breath. He is stronger. Braver. He exhales before typing a quick response. thanks guys! i’ll let you know how it goes.

Mom comes in as he’s logging off.

“You’re back! How’d it go with your client?” 

Mom smiles, smoothing down his hair. She looks tired. “Good. Just a dress mix-up. Anything eventful happen last night?”

Faintly, Izuku thinks of telling her that he stopped himself from self-harming, but she didn’t know he was in the first place. Yeesh. Better to not open that can of worms. So, he opts for telling her about one of the memes he saw on Everyday Courage.

Mom smiles, laughs, though it’s weak. Not her usual full laugh. Then she says, “Izuku, I need to tell you something.” She has on her serious voice. The voice she used when she told him she was in the hospital.

Oh, God.

Izuku fights to not lose his cool. Fights to not ask her if she’s hurt. (Or worse, has she finally had enough of him? Is she leaving him to fend for himself?) But his irrationality gets the best of him.

“Are you okay?” He looks her over frantically for any inkling of ailments. “A-are you hurt?”

“No, dear. I’m okay,” She pauses. “Honey… it’s Katsuki-kun.”

Katsuki?

Izuku’s face must be pretty fucking grave because Mom takes his hands in her own. “Take some breaths for me, okay?”

“What happened?”

Her lips are pinched. “There was a car accident early this morning—”

And that’s all Izuku hears before the warbling in his ears starts. No, no, no, no, no. He can’t do this again. How can this many car wrecks occur? It can’t be real. What happened to probability?

Mom’s squeezing his hands so tightly. “Honey, breath. Please.”

Izuku gives a weak sigh of a breath, but his eyes are rolling into the back of his head, and then he’s hyperventilating. Smash. Glass flying through the air. Neck snapping forward. Pain. Death. “Is… he okay?” He manages to ask.

“Well, he’s in surgery now. I spoke with his father right before he left for the hospital. He said he’d call me as soon as he knew anything.”

Izuku’s eyes fly open. “I need to see him.”

Mom looks at him like he’s grown horns. “Izuku, l-let’s think about this for a moment.”

Izuku is adamant. “No. I… need to be there when he wakes up.”

“Are you sure you’re ready? I know you care about Katsuki-kun, and he cares about you too. Think about your health first.”

She just doesn’t understand. Izuku has to be there for him. Katsu— Kacchan was there for Izuku when he was complacent to stay in his bubble. He saw Izuku’s ugly side and still wanted to come back around him afterwards. Kacchan laughed at his terrible jokes, held his hand, tried to understand him. And Izuku pushed him away. What if he’s gone and Izuku never got a chance to say good-bye?

Izuku explodes. “I don’t care! I need to see him now, Mom! If you won’t help me get to him, I-I’ll go on my own!”

“Okay, okay! Look, go get your shoes and coat, I’ll go warm the car.”

Who has time for that? Izuku grabs the nearest pair of sneakers and makes a beeline for the stairs before his mind can trick him into thinking otherwise.

He has to be there. 

…

This is what Izuku thinks of on the ride to the hospital:

Falling planes, sinkholes, Katsuki, another car crash, another car crash, breathing, Katsuki.

Dying, another car crash, earthquakes, Katsuki, breathing, tsunamis, another car crash, Katsuki.

Katsuki, Katsuki, Katsuki.

…

Izuku doesn’t remember much about how he got inside the emergency room, nor how long they waited to hear anything. He doesn’t remember his heart racing, his head aching, his lungs feeling like raisins. He doesn’t remember squeezing the stress ball so hard he could feel his fingers on the other side. He doesn’t remember that.

He doesn’t remember the doctor coming out to tell Katsuki’s parents about his broken bones. He doesn’t remember watching the Bakugou’s follow the doctor down the hall. He doesn’t remember waiting some more. He doesn’t remember wondering if Katsuki was dead.

The only thing he remembers is seeing Katsuki lying in that bed, eyes barely open. He was scratched up. Broken up. But still Kacchan.

The corners of his lips turned up slightly at seeing Izuku. “Hey,” He said.

“Hey,” Izuku said.

…

The next thing Izuku knows, he’s staring up at a pale green ceiling. It smells weird. Stale. He takes in his surroundings. He’s in a bed. A hospital bed. For the life of him, Izuku can’t recall what happened to put him here. His body feels slow. Groggy. What’s wrong with him?

“About time you woke up.”

Izuku looks to his right. Kacchan.

He’s in a bed too and all banged-up. A nasty, blue bruise under his left eye and cuts are all over his face. His head is dressed in wrappings and his right arm is in a cast. But he’s really here. Alive. “You were out longer than me,” Katsuki says.

Izuku blinks. “What happened?”

“To me or you?”

“Both.”

Katsuki struggles to sit up with just his left arm, but he manages. “I was t-boned by a drunk driver on my way back from a concert. She ran a stop sign, and I wasn’t paying attention…”

Izuku squeezes his eyes shut. He knows all about not paying attention. Not paying attention has him in the predicament that he’s currently in. His head starts to hurt just thinking about it. 

“You, on the other hand,” Katsuki continues. “Passed out in the ER right when they were about to move me up to a room. They made you my roomie.” He smirks. “Lucky you.”

Izuku tries to smile back but falls short. He’s quite sure that his face looks like he’s trying to poop. Izuku looks away from Katsuki only to notice the IV in his arm. His eyes bulge. “They… gave me something?”

“Just somethin’ to keep you calm. Your ma told ‘em to give it to you.”

Izuku wants to get upset. He wants to panic. Because a hospital is where people go when they are unhealthy. Where people go to die. But whatever this medicine is, it has him so mellow, so out of it that the only thing he can do is close his eyes and count to ten.

“Do you know where she is?” He asks Katsuki. “My mom?”

Katsuki hesitates before saying the next bit. “She went to find your doctor.”

An awkward silence follows. Izuku’s normal response would be to panic. But he can’t even do that. He doesn’t know why Mom would do this to him. More importantly, he doesn’t know what Katsuki’s thinking. Izuku swallows. “I guess… you know it all, then.”

“What?” Katsuki sounds genuinely confused, but Izuku knows it’s just a front. “What’re you talkin’ about—”

Before Katsuki can finish, the room door flies open. A boy with shaggy, black hair and a sorta scary smile rolls in in a wheelchair. He’s sporting a hospital gown and a boot on his right leg. “Hey, Bakugou,” He says. “They’ve got me in the room with a geriatric who— oh, who’s this?” Apparently, he is referring to Izuku.

Katsuki appears annoyed. “None of your business, Flatface.”

It’s then that Izuku realizes he’s the boy Kacchan was in the car with. Had he gotten hurt too? “It’s okay,” Izuku tells Katsuki. “I’m Midoriya. What’s your name?”

“I’m Sero,” He replies. “You’re the one Bakugou’s always going on about! He wouldn’t shut up about you on the ride back from the playoffs!”

“I can still beat your ass with one arm, y’know?”

Both Sero and Izuku ignore Katsuki’s empty threat. Izuku, instead, homes in on a rather scary thought. “You play basketball too?” He asks Sero.

“Yep.”

“Will you be able to play? I know you have a game coming up…”

Sero shakes his head. “The season’s over. We got knocked out in the first round.”

“Oh. I-I’m sorry,” Izuku apologizes. He doesn’t remember Katsuki telling him they’d lost. But that had to be right around the time they stopped seeing each other.

“Don’t be!” Sero smiles even wider. “I’m a professional benchwarmer, you see. But Bakugou here’s the star player.”

“Is there somethin’ that you need ta’ tell me or did you just come ta’ tell Izuku how bad a player you are?”

That’s something Izuku won’t get used to. Katsuki not calling him Deku. 

Sero bats his eyes daintily. “Couldn’t you have just a bit more compassion considering what’s just occurred?”

Izuku can’t read Katsuki’s response. He certainly is adamant on getting Sero out of here. Almost like he doesn’t want Izuku to know that he is his boyfriend. Izuku gets this pang in his chest just thinking about it.

“I am being compassionate,” Katsuki says. “I only threatened you once. Wanna keep it that way?”

Sero rolls his eyes. “I just came to say Kirishima, Kaminari, and Ashido left. They’ll be back after school,” Sero spins his wheelchair around and wheels out. “I’ll leave you two to… talk.”

Izuku waves goodbye. As soon as Sero’s gone, he says to Katsuki, “I’m sorry. I don’t wanna get in between you two. I… know you might not wanna be friends anymore.”

“That’s what we are? Friends? What’n the hell are you talkin’ about, Izuku?”

“Just stop it, okay?” He closes his eyes, head falling back on the stiff pillows. “I came to see you because I thought you were going to die. And… I thought I wouldn’t get a chance to apologize. I was wrong. I was… selfish. But mostly, I wasn’t grateful for how kind you were to me. I know you’ve moved on, but… I want to thank you for showing me who I am. I’m sorry for everything.”

Izuku swallows and stares up at the ceiling. He feels a lot lighter now that he’s gotten that out. Now for the hard part. Katsuki’s response. Izuku knows he may not like the things that Katsuki has to say, but he’s going to listen, going to take into consideration what Katsuki says and become a better person.

After what seems like hours, Katsuki replies with his signature couth and way with words. “Izuku… whatever the fuck they gave you got you trippin’ harder than a bitch. What the hell do you mean I’ve moved on?”

Izuku blinks. “But I-I thought… isn’t Sero-kun your… boyfriend?”

“Flatface?” Katsuki sneers. “Hell nah! Why would you even think that?”

“I just thought… because I saw you two leave your house together, and I—” Izuku realizes a moment too late that he’s admitted to watching the activity at Katsuki’s house.

If Katsuki notices, he doesn’t say anything about it. “He only rode with me because his legs were too long to ride in the back of Pikachu’s car and Shitty Hair didn’t want to give up the front seat.”

Oh.

Izuku feels like an idiot. (And probably looks like one too.) Like always, he jumped to conclusions and misjudged Katsuki. Izuku doesn’t know how—or why rather—Katsuki continues to put up with his bullshit. It’s so old, even Izuku is tired of himself. 

Kacchan jokes, “You know it takes more than that ta’ get rid of me.”

“I do,” Izuku says, sparing a glance over at Katsuki. He’s staring back at him. Izuku quickly looks away. “You’re the most stubborn person I know… besides me.”

Katsuki snorts at that. Then just when it’s gone quiet, he mumbles, “Izuku, if anyone should be apologizin’, it’s me.”

Izuku can feel Katsuki’s eyes boring into the side of his head. He desperately wants to meet Katsuki’s gaze. It’s been so long since Izuku’s witnessed the intensity and power of those determined eyes. But, Izuku can’t look at Katsuki. He’s far too embarrassed.

He feels so naked. He has bared everything about himself to Katsuki. All of his imperfections and insecurities. Izuku is an old, rusty tin can and Katsuki is a golden goblet. The difference between the two is conspicuous. 

Katsuki keeps talking even though Izuku stares sullenly down at the white bedsheets. 

“I was an asshole,” He says. “I didn’t listen to you or pay attention to how I made you feel. I was fuckin’ pissed when you told me to leave, but as soon as I got home, I wanted to come back and apologize. Then I saw how much I’d fucked up already and figured it was better if I didn’t come back. You’ve gotta know that was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Walkin’ away. I was ashamed.

“I know I've said this before, but sometimes I sit and think about how fuckin’ horrible I was to you when we were younger. I’m sorry for that. And m’sorry for makin’ you feel like you had to meet criteria to keep up with me. But, m’not sorry for what happened. For meeting you again, learnin’ who you are. For fallin’ for you. I… can’t imagine my life without you, Izuku.”

Katsuki’s words repeat over and over in Izuku’s mind. And m’sorry for makin’ you feel like you had to meet criteria to keep up with me. And Dr. Yagi’s too. People don’t laugh at those who are suffering. Izuku has been suffering for the better part of four years, and Katsuki knows that. He’s one of the few people who understands that Izuku can’t suddenly ‘get over’ his illness or ‘not think about it’. He has bared himself to Izuku. They are both exposed. Open. Izuku finally looks up at Katsuki. 

“Fuck,” Katsuki swears. “I made you cry again.”

Izuku pats his cheeks. They are wet. Figures. He smiles. “I always cry, remember?”

Katsuki gives a lazy smile—the kind where the laugh lines around his mouth are clear as day and the dimple in his chin is sitting there innocuously and his eyes are soft and fond—and Izuku has never wanted to kiss him more than he has now.

Except, kissing’s a problem since Izuku can’t exactly get out of bed. Undeterred, Izuku scoots over to the edge of the bed and reaches out his right hand. Kacchan shifts to his side, stretching out his non-broken left arm. At first, their fingertips just barely brush together, but then they’re both leaning onto the guardrails, and it becomes that much easier to finally have the contact that Izuku’s been so deprived of.

“I remember,” Kacchan says.

…

It isn’t until later after Katsuki has left to get some more tests done that Izuku gets a visitor, and it isn’t his mother. Normally, this would have unnerved him, but like Kacchan said, the medicine certainly does have Izuku tripping. He doesn’t feel the slightest bit of anxiety as Dr. Yagi breezes into the room. Not even when the dear doctor drops his briefcase down on the desk in the corner a bit harder than necessary, turns, and says sharply, “We need to talk.”

Normally, this would have bothered Izuku. He knows that he has the tendency to jump to conclusions like an olympic long jumper. But he’s so mellow that he just blinks, regarding Dr. Yagi’s clipped tone with a nod. “Okay.”

Dr. Yagi crosses his arms, leaning back against the desk. It’s a defensive position that he makes an effort to avoid at all costs. Not a good sign. “How do you feel?”

“Okay. A little tired, but happy.”

The doc homes in on that. “Happy… Are you happy with yourself?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I made it to the hospital. I patched things up with Kacchan! That’s good, right?” It’s been a while since he’s actually met Dr. Yagi in the hospital for his appointment. This is an accomplishment in Izuku’s head, which is why Dr. Yagi’s response knocks the wind out of him.

“Quite the opposite, actually.”

It takes Izuku a moment to stomach what’s been said. He’s confused and slightly annoyed. Why is Dr. Yagi shutting him down? “I thought… you’d be proud of me,” He mumbles.

That sets off the ticking time bomb that is Dr. Yagi. “Proud? Izuku, you overstepped your boundaries! You aren’t miraculously cured just because you made an irrational decision and left the house. It doesn’t work that way, and you know it.”

His voice is intense. So different from the gentle, siren-like tone he usually has. He isn’t yelling, per-se, but it’s obvious he’s pissed. Izuku’s never seen him mad before. He has scolded Izuku, but never gotten completely irate with him. The worst thing has to be the dry grimace on his face where his usual smile resides.

Izuku opens his mouth to say something, but the doctor holds up a bony hand. He isn’t finished. “The change has to come through time and progress. Izuku, the only reason why you aren’t flipping out right now is because of the drugs! Do you realize that?” 

Izuku’s mind is mush. He sits there as Dr. Yagi continues his castigation, not knowing how to feel, what to do, what to say. He’s… 

Stuck.

Izuku is stuck in his mind, stuck in this fucking bed, stuck in his house, just plain stuck. It’s not fair. Everything in his life was already pretty shitty, so why did Dr. Yagi have to shit on his happiness? Why couldn’t he just leave him alone in his blissful ignorance? Is that too much to ask?

Izuku wants to be angry with his therapist. Yell and scream at him. Kick his legs and throw a tantrum. But he can’t because he’s so doped-up that he can hardly feel his toes. He hates what the drugs have done to him. He’s lethargic and sluggish. He’s not himself.

“I didn’t want them!” Izuku wails. “If I’d known she was going to give them to me, I would’ve said no! I feel terrible! Wh-why would she do this to me?”

Dr. Yagi sighs as he pulls out the chair in the corner and sits, looking rather menacing in his tailored, dark green suit. “Because she knew how you would act waking up in a strange place. All of the things your mother has done are in your best interest. I admit, the dosage might have been too high, that may account for your grogginess, but without it, imagine how scary an experience this would have been.”

Pretty fucking frightening. Izuku doesn’t even get to say as much because Dr. Yagi continues talking. “I know you needed to do something to salvage your relationship with Bakugou, but at the expense of yourself? Do you think this is what he’d want for you? Is this what you want for yourself?”

No. Izuku doesn’t want this for himself. And he’s more than certain that Katsuki wouldn’t want it for him either. 

It’s then that he realizes what a baby he’s been. None of the people in his life want to see him this way. They all want for him to get better, especially Mom. Izuku holds his breath at that thought. 

Mom was doing the best that she could, and Izuku hasn’t exactly been making it easy for her. Demanding to leave the house when he wasn't ready for it surely had to have been tough for her to deal with. 

Izuku is pulled out of his internal ultimatum when Dr. Yagi sighs loudly. He drags a hand over his face and looks at Izuku tiredly. "Bakugou has been a positive influence on you for the most part, which is why I never said anything about it. But please know that you can’t give your all in a relationship with you not being well. Do you understand?”

Izuku nods. “Yes. I do.”

And finally, Dr. Yagi smiles. It's faint, but it's there. "Good. Now promise me you won’t regress. You’ve been doing so well.”

Izuku nods again. “I promise. I want to do better. For me.”

Then it's Dr. Yagi's turn to nod. He straightens himself in his seat and clasps his hands together in his lap. “I apologize for scolding you," He says.

Izuku chuckles. “It’s okay. I needed it.”

“I still dislike doing it. I’d rather explain things to you calmly than force them down your throat.”

Izuku can’t believe he’s got such an awesome therapist. Someone who helps him understand the complexities of the human mind, but isn’t afraid to tell him when he’s wrong. Izuku is truly grateful. And it seems that Dr. Yagi feels the same way.

“We care about you, Izuku,” He says so genuinely that Izuku feels himself tearing up. “Your mother and I only want what’s best for you. You have no idea how frazzled I was when your mother came and got me.”

Yet another thing he’s gotta stop doing. Bringing other people into his wrongdoings. Izuku vows to think long and hard before making any more rash decisions. He tells the doctor, “Thanks. For caring.”

“Anytime,” Dr. Yagi’s wide grin is back. Izuku gets this warm feeling inside. It’s nice to be wanted. “So, care to tell me about this?” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out Izuku’s stress ball of all things. “The ER nurses found it when you fainted.”

Despite the embarrassing manner in which he’d lost it, Izuku is pleased to have it back. That reminds him of the incident from last night. 

Izuku spends the rest of their session retelling Dr. Yagi how he stopped himself from self-harming. At seeing the proud expression on the doctor's face, that warm feeling in Izuku's chest returns, and it stays with him for the rest of the day.

One month later… 

“Shoot!” Mom huffs as she sets the scissors aside. “Where’d I put the tape?”

Izuku watches silently as his mother rummages through her sewing bucket looking for the roll of tape that’s quite obviously sitting on the table. It’s wrong that he’s just watching her get upset, but frankly, Izuku is too nervous to say anything else. Mom got even more anxious when he tried to calm her down.

“I just had it!” Mom shoves the box aside, and stands up to flip the sofa cushions. It’s only when she begins to move the sofa that he has to say something.

“Mom. Mom! It’s on the table.”

She glances over her shoulder. “Oh,” She says, then grabs it and tears a piece off, placing it on the wrapping paper.

Mom has been losing her everlasting mind as she runs around the house, making straight pictures on the wall crooked, cooking the food, and now, wrapping a gift. She’s muttering to herself, though Izuku can’t tell what. It’s rather frightening. Izuku imagines this has got to be what he looks like when he’s panicking. 

A few moments pass before there’s a knock at the door. Mom goes absolutely still. Then she grabs the present, races to her room, and slams the door behind her. “She’s not supposed to be here this early!” Mom shouts from behind it.

Izuku sighs before he gets up and goes to the door. His stomach drops at the thought, but only for a moment. He squeezes his stress ball in one hand as he grabs the door knob with the other and tugs it open. His breath hitches once he sees who it is.

“Mom, it’s not her! It’s Kacchan!” 

And indeed it is Katsuki, clad in a simple black tee and jeans with a dessert dish in his unbroken left hand. 

Katsuki walks in just in time to see Izuku’s mother throw the bedroom door back open and stomp out, continuing her rampage. “Ma and Pop baked a fucking pie—” He notices Mom rushing back and forth. “What’d you do to your ma?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Izuku closes the door. “She’s worried Misa-san won’t like the party.”

“Hm,” Katsuki says, handing Izuku the pie—which smells heavenly—before heading into the kitchen after Mom.

Today is mom’s girlfriend’s birthday, and Mom wanted to throw her a surprise party. A few of the people who work at the sewing shop are coming, and Mom suggested Izuku invite a few friends too. It wasn't like he had very many to choose from. So Tenya, Ochako, and Katsuki it was. 

Izuku smiles to himself and leans against the door. It’s been a month since that day in the hospital. And life had been good, though it was still a struggle sometimes.

Izuku no longer feels shackled to his house, but he’s not quite free either. And he's fine with it. Dr. Yagi said to take baby steps, so that's what he's doing.

Now, Izuku sits on the porch with Mom in the mornings and sips orange juice. And when Katsuki gets home from school, the two of them go to the backyard and play with Fuschia. On days when he’s alone, Izuku visits Mom’s flower garden and admires their beauty.

It’s about finding a new routine. Izuku had gotten so stuck in his old one, it seemed impossible to change. But now he knows that anyone can with work and determination.

Izuku pushes off of the door and makes his way to the kitchen. The whole time he's squeezing his stress ball. He's been relying on them so much. At first, he worried that Kacchan was going to say something about them. But he only picked one up and tossed it up in the air to himself as they chatted about cartoons.

Izuku stands in the doorway of the kitchen, watching as Katsuki talks with his mother. She laughs softly at something, her tense body finally relaxing. Izuku smiles. He could not believe how much of a charmer Katsuki was at times. But at least he was using it for good today.

“Thank you, Katsuki-kun,” Mom says, placing a hand on Kacchan’s arm. “I needed that.”

“Anytime,” Katsuki’s smile is genuine.

Mom goes about putting the finishing touches on Misa-san’s gift before she sets it to the side. She then grabs a box of party supplies off the counter and goes to hand them to Katsuki. Izuku rushes in like a bolt of lightning and grabs it before Katsuki has the chance to take it. He didn't want for him to hurt his arm again. 

Mom smiles cheekily and says, “You kids go on outside and finish setting up. I’ve got it from here.”

… 

Izuku squeezes the stress ball, hums a tuneless ditty to himself to keep himself from losing it. They were outside now. Had been for a good five minutes and Izuku still was struggling to keep it together. Being outdoors was hard some days.

Katsuki takes notice of Izuku’s restlessness and starts talking about the new Animal Crossing game. He probably knew that changing the conversation was the best thing to do at that moment. He’s perceptive like that.

“Shitty Hair’s turnip prices are fuckin’ insane. Like out-of-this-world fuckin’ insane. I have no idea why I even visit his shitty island.”

Izuku hums and spreads the tablecloth over the picnic table neatly. He does some breathing exercises and focuses on Katsuki’s words. Eventually, the anxiety passes. Hearing Katsuki’s gravelly voice talk about literally anything was therapeutic.

By the time they’ve finished placing decorations on the table, Izuku is feeling a lot less anxious. That is, until Katsuki breaks out the ladder to string up a “Happy Birthday!” banner above Mom’s garden. Between Katsuki falling and breaking his other arm or crushing Mom’s flowers, Izuku knows he’s gotta be the one to do it. “I’ll do it,” He says.

Kacchan doesn’t protest. He just holds the ladder steady as Izuku slowly climbs up it, then hands him the banner once he’s up high enough, never ceasing his conversation about his friends. “I’m glad the season’s over. I should be fine for next year. Hopefully, Flatface is too. I don’t think I can take listening to his bitchin’ anymore.”

Senior year. Izuku could cry. 

And it’s like Katsuki knows when he’s about to start spiraling because he says, “Don’t blame yourself for somethin’ outta your control, Izuku.”

Izuku bites the inside of his cheek. “I’m not. I just… wish things had gone differently.”

“I don’t.”

Izuku halts his banner-tying to look down at Katsuki. He thought that Katsuki would be the main one to want things differently. For one, he wouldn’t have a broken arm. Nor would he have had to deal with Izuku and his childishness. Izuku can’t help but feel that Katsuki got the short end of the stick in the end.

But Kacchan just shrugs and says, “I know that sounds shitty, but I wouldn’t change a thing. I feel like… we learned more about each other than we would have if we hadn’t had that fight. I know it made me a better listener.”

Izuku doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he goes back to adjusting the banner. It seemed that along with his anxiety, his guilt was never going to go away.

“I like where we’re at,” Katsuki says a moment later. “Us.”

Izuku looks down again. “Me too.”

Pretty soon, Izuku is finished pinning the banner up. He dusts his hands on his pants, feeling quite proud of himself. That is, of course, when Katsuki opens his mouth.

“That banner’s crooked as hell, Izuku,” He muses, sliding his left hand into his pocket.

“No, it’s not!”

“The fuck it is.”

Izuku hops down from the ladder and looks up. Surely enough, the banner is lopsided, but Izuku isn’t going to give Kacchan the satisfaction of being right. “It’s perfectly fine!” He says. “And you don’t have to keep calling me that, y’know. Deku’s okay. I don’t mind. My mom and Dr. Yagi are the only ones who use Izuku.”

Katsuki ponders that for a moment. “Tell me if you don’t want me to, okay? I mean it.”

“But that means I’d have to stop calling you Kacchan and I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

Katsuki gives a soft, intimate smile before flicking Izuku’s nose. “Dork,” He says.

Before Izuku knows it, they’ve finished setting up. The table is ready, the decorations are done, all that’s left is the guest of honor. So, the two decide to take a break.

Izuku settles down in the nicely-cut grass beside the picnic table. It takes Katsuki a bit longer since he’s only got one good arm, but he manages. He’s gotten pretty savvy with one less limb, but Izuku can tell that he’s eager to have two arms again. Thankfully, he’s going later on this week to get a check-up.

“Okay?” Izuku asks once Katsuki’s comfortably down on the ground beside him.

Katsuki threads his fingers through Izuku’s, then falls back onto the grass. “Yeah.”

Izuku lies down beside him. “Good.”

They stare up at the cloudless sky. Izuku thinks back to before when he and Kacchan watched the sky from the porch. That seemed like forever ago. A whole nother Izuku ago.

“Hey,” Katsuki squeezes Izuku’s hand. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?” 

Izuku snorts. “You don’t wanna know.”

“I do.”

Izuku glances to his left. Katsuki’s giving him one of those gentle looks where it makes it hard for him to think. It has him uttering, “I’m worried that I won’t be able to be around so many people.”

“Okay.”

“And I’m worried that I’m gonna say something wrong and offend someone.”

“Okay.”

“I’m… worried someone will have a car accident getting here.”

“Those are all valid worries. But y’know what I think?”

“What?”

Katsuki leans in close. “You’re stronger than you realize.”

Izuku goes to protest the fact, but it occurs to him that there may be some validity in Kacchan’s statement. This past month attested to that. Before, Izuku was his own enemy. And while it may have felt good to berate himself and self-harm then, it was self-destructive behavior that would have surely resulted in his demise.

He’s grateful for the people he has to help him. His mom, his friends, Dr. Yagi, and of course, Bakugou Katsuki.

“I had some help,” He tells Kacchan.

“Nah,” Katsuki leans forward and presses his lips to Izuku’s temple. Izuku leans into his touch. “It was all you.”

God. It’s incredible having someone believe in him like that. Slightly scary, but mostly incredible. Even then, it’s a good type of fear. Like getting on a rollercoaster. The twists, turns, and drops can be frightening, but there’s a part of it that is enjoyable. Butterflies in his stomach, arms up in the air— that’s what Izuku feels like when he’s with Katsuki. He feels like he can be himself.

After what seems like forever, Kacchan pulls away just enough to lean his forehead against Izuku’s. “Hey,” He says. “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Then Katsuki’s hand is on the side of Izuku’s neck, his smile is bright, and his breath smells like minty gum. Izuku closes his eyes and meets him halfway. 

This is new. Not that they haven’t kissed before, but it has been a while. They haven’t spent much time alone in the past month what with both of their parents worrying over them. They’d also agreed to take things slow, affection-wise.

After that conversation with Dr. Yagi at the hospital, Izuku realized just how immature he had been in his relationship with Kacchan. And when he told Katsuki such, he too agreed that he wanted Izuku to get better before they moved into that part of their relationship. It took everything in Izuku to not kiss Katsuki there.

If he was being honest, Izuku had forgotten what Katsuki’s lips felt like against his. What it felt to touch him. But it all came back. Katsuki is warm—or it could be the sun—and real and Izuku is definitely fine with this. This—Katsuki’s lips on his, Izuku’s hands bunching into his shirt, Katsuki cupping his face and humming into the kiss—is a-okay with him.

Izuku feels like he’s dreaming… Until his dream gets cut short by a shrill voice. 

“Oh my God! Iida-kun, they’re kissing!”

Izuku would know that voice anywhere. Ochako. 

He pulls away from Katsuki and looks in the direction of the sound. There he sees Tenya and Ochako ambling towards them. Izuku has never held such disdain for his friends as he does now.

“I can see that, Uraraka-kun,” Tenya replies, then to Izuku. “I hope we aren’t interrupting something important, Midoriya-kun.”

He certainly is, but Izuku doesn’t have the heart to tell him that.

Katsuki scowls at the two of them. “Damn extras.” 

Izuku lets out a small laugh before he hops up and helps Katsuki to his feet. 

… 

Now sitting around the picnic table, Izuku asks his friends what they’re doing here so early. “The party doesn’t start until two,” He says.

“We figured you needed some help!” Ochako beams. “And to be honest, we didn’t have anything better to do.” Tenya nods in response to this.

“Lame,” Katsuki sneers. 

Izuku is quick to point out Katsuki’s own punctuality. “Kacchan, you got here early too!”

Katsuki looks taken aback. “Y-yeah, well, ‘cause I came to help!”

Ochako laughs, which is a rather dumb decision on her part, and Kacchan wastes no time laying into her. Izuku shakes his head and turns his attention to his other friend. 

Izuku then notices that Tenya looks a bit disheveled. That was certainly not the Iida Tenya that he knew. “Why do you look so tired, Iida-kun?” He asks.

“The Bakugou’s dog gave us a scare!” Tenya says, removing his glasses to wipe his eyes. “It chased us for quite some time.”

Izuku quirks an eyebrow. “Fuschia’s not a guard dog. Why’d she do that?”

“I imagine it has something to do with Uraraka-kun provoking it.”

That sounds just like Ochako. Speaking of, she’s left the table and apparently lost the argument with Kacchan. Not many can fare a battle of words against Katsuki anyway.

Katsuki, who was apparently eavesdropping on their conversation, shakes his head. “Y’know, that ain’t her name, right?”

It occurs to Izuku that he, in fact, does not know the dog’s real name. Fuschia was a nickname. 

“Oh? Then what is it?”

“It’s—”

“Deku-kun!” Ochako shouts from her place in front of the banner. “This banner is crooked! I’m gonna fix it!”

“Lemme do it,” Katsuki swears then jumps up and heads over to where Ochako is. “You’re gonna fuck it up.”

Izuku isn’t sure what Katsuki can do with one arm, so he just watches as Katsuki heads up the ladder and reaches for the string holding it to the wall. His shirt rides up some, revealing the top of his boxers. Izuku can’t tear his eyes away from Kacchan’s rear end.

“Is that all you can look at, Midoriya-kun?” Tenya throws a knowing look over his glasses.

Izuku can’t really form a good response to that so he just pokes his tongue out. Tenya rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

Soon, Katsuki finishes fussing with the banner and hops down from the ladder to admire his handiwork. The banner is still crooked. And Ochako doesn’t waste any time telling Katsuki that.

“It’s still crooked! You should have just let me do it from the start!”

Katsuki frowns. “Like you could do better, Pie Face!”

“I totally could! I’ve got two arms!”

Katsuki doesn’t like that statement too much, he raises his unbroken arm and points a finger in Ochako’s face. Ochako doesn’t like that much, either. It’s clear what’s going to happen before it does. 

And so, Izuku and Tenya watch as their friends bicker. For the first time in a while, Izuku feels pretty normal. It’s something he’s always wanted, but he knows that he’s still got a long way to go. And he’s fine with that. Because he has friends like these to help him.

“Hey, Iida-kun,” Izuku looks over at his friend. 

“Yes?”

“Thanks for being such a good friend.”

Tenya looks back at Izuku and smiles genuinely. “I should be telling you the same. Uraraka-kun and I were worried about you for quite some time. I am so relieved that you haven’t left us.” 

“I know,” Izuku says, because he sure was heading that way. Heading to the grave. “I’m gonna try not to let that happen again. I care about you guys, and I don’t want for you to see me that bad ever again.”

Tenya smiles, pulls Izuku in for a small hug. “I know you won’t.”

Again comes that fear of someone believing in him. Izuku doesn’t want to let his friend down nor does he want to let himself down. He has the tools to succeed. All that’s left to do is use them.

“C’mon,” Izuku says when Tenya’s pulled away. “Let’s go inside.”