who_theheck



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    “How long?” Izuku asks, unable to decide which part of Katsuki's face he wants to look at. He grabs Katsuki's shirt again. He clenches it once, twice. “Kacchan, how long?”

    What is Katsuki supposed to say here? He can't even remember what it was like not to feel this way. Can't remember when it began either, he only knows that it did. At some point it started and it never stopped. It grew and grew until he knew and he knew he shouldn't and Izuku would never, and the only option he had left was to bury it. Bury it and deny it and let it hurt, yet never say it. Not to himself, not to Izuku—not to anyone.

    But Katsuki almost died. And Izuku is here, just like he always has been.

    So Katsuki closes his eyes and listens, to the sound of Izuku just being, to the breath on Katsuki's face as his hair tickles his forehead. He opens his heavy eyelids and stares into shining green, and he utters: “For a while.”

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    07 Dec 2025