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Izuku cannot imagine a time in which he did not know Katsuki Bakugou, but he knew that ever since he was small he’d wanted to protect him. Katsuki wasn’t a weakling by any means, he was probably the strongest person Izuku had ever met. It made no sense for Izuku to want to protect the boy of fire; in comparison he didn’t just pale to the boy, didn’t just fade- he disappeared.
And yet, he kept following him, maybe borne out of some twisted love and respect for the boy, and even when the boy, drunk on his power and his authority, turned painfully violent.
Even now, watching the back of Katsuki’s head, Izuku can’t bring himself to stop loving him. It made him sick every time he saw him, as though he had to throw up, an uneasy, unsettled feeling his stomach that made him think things were not as they seemed, indeed, maybe it could never be. Yet, he still loved, and loved someone who even though he stood on equal grounds with would never look at him as an equal.
You could be heroes who both save and win.
It’s a touching sentiment from All Might, really, a cute one that is idealistic in its nature, as with everything the man says; for though he has known defeat he does not taste it like acid in the back of his throat every time he looked at someone- or maybe he does when he looks in the mirror. Perhaps, then, All Might and him shared more than just a quirk in common; maybe they both looked at themselves and regretted what they’d become and what they could not do.
Maybe another reason why Izuku is so set on Katsuki is because he wants to save him. It’s not uncommon, believing that you could change someone out of love, as though by just physically loving them you could somehow drag them out of the hole they’d fallen into. Izuku wanted to be a hero, but how could he save others if he couldn't even save his childhood best friend from himself? If he tried hard enough, maybe he could fix him.
Katsuki turns around to look at him. His eyes are the bleeding red they’ve always been, intimidating and intense; as though relaxation was some faded dream they’d only read about. Everything about Katsuki spoke of power and revelled in it, relished even, for the hard lines of muscle are evident even through his uniform, and his eyes speak of war.
“You’re fucking muttering again,” Katsuki says, his eyes narrowing as they study Izuku’s form- who has pressed himself into the back of his chair, flinching from the hard look in his eyes. Another thing, how could he save someone who scared him to the death? How could he be a hero if he still let a childhood bully get to him so deeply? To say it frustrated him would be an understatement; his helplessness was something he raged at under the cover of the night with little to keep him from slipping. “It's pissing me off.”
“Sorry,” Izuku rubs the back of his head sheepishly and turns back to his book, where he’s struggling to remember the different laws for different scenarios of hero work. It’s mundane and boring, though extremely important, yet ever since the fight he had with Katsuki he couldn’t focus, once again too busy dwelling on the past to turn his glance to the future.
Katsuki looks at him weirdly, almost as though he is constipated, as if he’s trying to convey something he doesn’t have the words for. Instead, he shrugs and turns back to his table, but the lines of his shoulders remain tense.
The rest of the class would tell you that the lessons they now sat in held a different energy than before; ever since the three days where they were suspended Katsuki was quieter and softer, raged less against things he could do nothing about, answered questions without being thoughtlessly rude. It is not to say he has stopped being a bother and a loud-mouth, but that he’s come to terms with it almost, and seemed to be capable of toning it down. But Izuku remained as scared as he was, quietly thinking- it even seemed he talked less than he did before, was less animated, and seemed to withdraw into himself as he warred with a conflict that the others could not understand. For none of them, except maybe Kirishima, held the desire to see Katsuki reformed.
Right now, he is a hunk of metal, Izuku thinks, sketching the likeness of Katsuki onto his paper. It still hurts when you throw it, but once he moves past this- he could be something that renders things asunder.
It is a terrifying thought.
This week they spend doing rescue simulations. He’s paired with Katsuki for this one- a high-rise fire, where in the apartment at the very top a mother and her young child are trapped behind a wall of flame. Fire has never scared Katsuki- too alike are their personality and quirks, but Izuku wants to head in with a plan, always a plan.
“I can jump up to grab her,” Izuku muses as they watch Todoroki simply freeze the entire building. “My suit is flame-retardant, courtesy of the support team. But I would have no way to bring them both down safely.”
“I can do that,” Katsuki looks at his hands and gives Izuku a devilish grin that makes every nerve in his body sing. Katsuki, intentionally or unintentionally, played him like a violin, every reaction was drawn out of Izuku according to how he liked. “You just get them to me.”
“You’re okay with not being the one to actually go in?”
“Sometimes, idiot Deku,” Katsuki leans back on the wall and looks at him hard- the lines on his forehead are back, but they do not seem to be in malice. “I’m generous.”
“You don’t want to burn your skin,” Izuku guesses, looking at Katsuki’s hero costume. It’s absolutely gorgeous, gave him a confusing hard on for days when he’d first seen Katsuki walk out wearing it, all hard lines of his biceps and glorious skin that unveiled before him, and even now the scene is still erotic.
Katsuki doesn't reply to that, just shrugs and looks away from him. All Might surveys the two of them from his position at the television screens. He’s proud of the way they talk now, more give and take and less pushing and shoving. These two are adaptable and quick, once their flaws are exposed they accept change with two open palms. Though they have their own shortcomings in personality and values, this necessary attitude towards becoming better versions of themselves is vital in the industry they have chosen to work in, and it brings a smile to his face that cannot be chased away, even after Mineta starts sobbing when the flames lick a little too close to him.
They work together like a dream, for once. Izuku powers up and scales the building, leaping into the open window with barely a hint of difficulty. He covers the plastic family with a wet blanket and when unexpectedly the fire moves to cover the open window, smashes a hole through the apartment walls and sticks his head out. The floor is starting to crumble- he’s pretty sure that’s not supposed to happen, and when the floor gives way Izuku isn’t thinking but manages to catch them and set them standing on the hole they’d created. Katsuki is already waiting for him on the ledge just below, that same crazy smile on his face as the wind whips his hair about.
Izuku lowers the girl down to him first. He leaps off the building and controls their fall with his explosions, slowing their decent until they hit the ground, then does the same to the mother, and finally he even comes back up to get Izuku, and winds a hand around his waist as they bump to the ground.
It’s a thrilling sensation, being this close to Katsuki. He can see where the smoke has tinged his skin a light grey, the beads of sweat on his neck. He smells like fire too, explosions and smoke.
“You didn’t have to come up and get me,” Izuku says as they touch the floor a little harder than the rest- those minute explosions he’d been creating must've been hard to control. “Thank you, Kacchan.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes and peels off his mask, shaking out his hair. “Be grateful, moron. It was faster that way. You did good too. I guess. I don’t fucking think the fire was supposed to make the floor crumble.”
The world swims. Blood rushes south so fast Izuku swears he’d pass out, and suddenly he realises with a painful flash that he’s got such a thing for being praised, especially if the one praising him is Katsuki.
“Are you feeling okay?” Is all Izuku can muster, though he knows he sounds as though he’s being strangled.
Katsuki rounds on him. “Fuck you! I try to be nice and shit and you’re all here being-“
“Thank you,” Izuku hurries to interrupt him, waving his hands about. “Thanks. You did good too. The explosions must’ve been difficult to control.”
Katsuki’s mouth clamps shut. He rolls his shoulders and wipes his hands on his costume. “Yeah. It was okay for me, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Izuku echoes.
All Might beams at them.
There are a few times when they’re called out to go save people officially, now that they have their provisional licenses and can be part-time heroes. It means the world to Izuku the first time he saves someone from being trapped under a concrete pillar- for this is real real real and every moment of it is blinding in its intensity.
He pulls the man out of the wreckage and assures him he’s going to be all right, handing him over to Momo who is creating stretchers and rolls of bandages at the speed of light while Iida rushes them over to the medical tents. It’s a beautiful sight.
A voice buzzes into his intercom.
“Deku, I hope you haven’t fucking busted a bone yet,” Katsuki’s voice crackles into the headset.
“Need help?”
“I don’t like the insinuation that I fucking need help from you.”
“I’m glad you think you can ask me for help.”
There's silence.
“I can save more people if I do, shitty Deku, don’t misunderstand,” Katsuki hisses into the headset. “Fucking get here already.”
“Where are you?”
There’s a loud boom. Izuku whirls around to see an explosion of red-yellow high in the sky just a hundred metres from where he was standing. “You could’ve just told me.”
“The boom is fucking cool.”
“I’m sure it is, Kacchan,” Izuku smiles in spite of himself. He hurries over the distance and finds Katsuki staring at a stone pillar that has fallen over a group of people. Though they are alive, and there is a little space between the pillar and their bodies, every action of the ground makes the pillar groan and the people scream.
Izuku sees the problem right away. Katsuki’s usual method of dealing with rubble is the explode it into smaller pieces so that he can go through, or use the momentum from the explosion to push something else out of the way. If he did either one here, the pillar would just fall onto the people, and it would be devastating.
“Uraraka is the one you should’ve called,” Izuku surveys the pillar, struggling to keep objective.
“She's busy with the main building," Katsuki furrows his brow and stares at their problem. “Don’t make me regret calling you.”
“I could- crawl under?” Izuku pokes the pillar nervously. “I could wind up a punch.”
“Your hands-“
“I wouldn’t be punching the pillar, I would be punching the air,” Izuku tilts his head. “The air moves outwards, and the pillar with it. Then I jump up-“
“Smash it into even tinier pieces,” Katsuki wears that dangerous smile again, something that Izuku wants to kiss off his face. “Okay. Can you do it?”
“No idea,” he pales.
“You fucking have to.”
“You know, I’m the one supposed to be giving the advice,” Izuku slides under the pillar where there is the most space and feels the charge burn through his body. “You reassuring me is making me uncomfortable.”
“I will punch you for that,” Katsuki announces. “I’ll have you know my advice is fucking perfect.”
“Sure it is, Kacchan,” Izuku’s scared. The weight of the lives of the people underneath the pillar is heavy on his soul. “Remember when I fell down and you said that stag beetles have magical healing properties, so you made everyone look for one and left me to bleed on the floor?”
“I was four fucking years old!”
“That was shitty advice!” Izuku shouts, and slams his fist forward. The pillar shoots up into the air, but breaks apart on impact- a hundred metres up in the air. Rubble rains down on them and Izuku is leaping up to kick the pieces away from the people, with Katsuki using his explosions to control the smaller ones that fall to the ground. Eventually, they manages to get the people to Iida and Momo, and allow themselves to collapse on the ground in exhaustion and fear.
“We got them all out,” Izuku pants, and sucks in a deep breath. He can still feel his heart pounding in his chest, and it’s got nothing to do also with the way Katsuki looks at him, all proud, hard eyes, and a perfect arrogant grin.
“Of course we fucking did, I was there,” Katsuki rolls his eyes and leans unsteadily against a stone block. “Did you hurt your hands?”
“I think I’ve gotten better at controlling it. See,” Izuku holds up his arms and grins in spite of himself. “I’m fine.”
“About fucking time,” Katsuki inspects his arm and nods. “I was getting tired of you always getting fucking beat up by using your quirk. It was so fucking sad.”
“It was not sad. It was inspiring.”
“It was very sad. You looked like such a loser.”
“I looked badass!”
“You do not look badass when ninety percent of your body is in a fucking cast, idiot Deku.”
“I hope this is you being concerned for me.”
“You know, I think I want to go back to when you were terrified of me,” Katsuki sneers at him, but there’s no heat to his words. “You weren’t such a talk backy little shit.”
“I like it like this,” Izuku hears the all clear siren wail and closes his eyes in relief. “It’s a lot more pleasant, don't you think? I’m kind of glad we fought that night.”
There is no reply from the other boy, but the silence confirms it all.
Izuku is lying face down on the sofa in the middle of a very painful existential crisis when he hears someone approach the sofa. There’s a sigh and some rustling, and then his legs are being lifted off the sofa to make room for the person, but they are not pushed to the side, allowing them to rest in the other’s lap.
Izuku already knew from the footsteps alone that this was Katsuki, and he nearly overflows with the number of questions he wants to ask. Highest of all is why are you tolerating this? He’s scared to roll over and break whatever peace has befallen the two of them today, but he wants to do it anyway, if for nothing but to look at his face. Just as he gathers up the courage to do so, however-
“What’re you muttering about now?”
What?
"What do you mean?” His voice is heavily muffled by the sofa. Katsuki’s hands start wandering, running gently up the backs of his thighs soothingly.
“You’re lying face down on the sofa. That means you're muttering about something and you don’t want people to hear. You’re so fucking transparent it's not even funny. Anyone could tell.”
To the left, Uraraka and Todoroki are staring with wide, disbelieving eyes. Yes, while Izuku did tend to lie face down on the carpet occasionally, it wasn’t a natural conclusion to think he was just muttering again. Uraraka thought he was going to sleep; Todoroki thought he just couldn’t make it to his bed.
They stare at them, then at each other, and both make the decision to quietly tip-toe out of the room.
“I’m fine,” Izuku murmurs into the sofa cushions, trying desperately not to arch into the touch. Holy shit, he hasn’t been touched like this in ages, gently and unselfishly, and least of all by the one person who used to do it violently and meanly.
“I'm actually being nice for once, so don't fucking lie to me asswipe,” Katsuki snorts and his hands grip a little too tight. Izuku can’t hide the way he arches into it now.
“I was just thinking,” Izuku finally rolls over and looks up at the ceiling, the semi-annoyed expression on Katsuki’s face, the way his hands now ghost over his shins. “What if I never learn to fully control my quirk beyond five percent?”
“Was it five percent when you blew away that pillar?”
“I think that was eight,” Izuku frowns and closes his eyes. “Kacchan, I’m scared I can’t be as good a hero as All Might if eight’s my highest.”
“How many people were under that pillar?” Katsuki asks, his voice gruff.
Izuku startles. “Wha- I don’t-“
“I said how many?” his words are demanding; they offer no escape.
“I- I would say about…”
“There were fifteen people under that pile of rubble,” Katsuki continues to dance his fingers lightly above his skin. “Two were children. One was an elderly man. One of them was a mother. Another had just moved in with his girlfriend that day. A bunch of sappy fucking shit that comes with being alive, right?”
“How do you know?”
“I went around to check on them after we were done, shitty Deku. They were all so happy to be alive. And why were they fucking alive? Tell me. Why?”
Izuku blinks open his eyes. “Because we got the pillar off their opening.”
“Because you fucking blew away the pillar with whatever shit control you have over your quirk,” Katsuki turns away from him and fixates his angry glare on the glass sliding doors. “Who the fuck cares if you can only control eight percent? You saved fifteen fucking people.”
Izuku feels his eyes blur with tears. He sits up in a fluid motion and throws himself into Katsuki’s arms, ignoring every instinct in his bones that screams otherwise. “You’re being- sniff - really nice to me lately. Why?”
Katsuki tenses beneath him. “I…shouldn’t have…I shouldn’t have bullied you when we were younger because you’re quirkless.” His shoulders droop. “And I can’t be a hero if I don’t…make up for it.”
Izuku rushes to grip at him tightly, looping his arms around Katsuki’s neck gently. “I’d forgiven you a long time ago for that.”
“That’s another problem of yours. I know I fucking hurt you, so just take the fucking- god you don’t always have to be so accepting of people, you crazy shit! You’re allowed to feel angry at someone who fucking- you know!” Katsuki pulls away from him and looks simultaneously lost and angry. His perpetual scowl is back on his face.
“Okay,” Izuku’s eyes swim with fresh tears. He knows then, that overcoming his fear of Katsuki and Katsuki apologising to him are both things that they need to do to move on from what they were. Him coming clean about his emotions back then is extremely important to him then, and Izuku is more than happy to oblige for the both of them. He tucks his head back into the crook of his neck. “You were pretty shitty. I was pretty sad. I’m okay now.” Even if those hands don’t rise to hug him back, he knows it’s enough for him. “Thank you.”
It’s an odd thing, quirks. There were great many debates that wondered if personality shaped quirk or quirk shaped personality, for the two were so linked it would be hard to debate quirks without taking into account the way the person is. Who did that make Izuku, then? Is that why he had so much difficulty getting his body to accept his quirk? Because his personality could not be moulded by it, and his personality hadn’t shaped it?
If so, maybe all he needed to do would be to come up with One For All the way he wanted to, not the way All Might did. Even then, it’s difficult to do so, like trying to re-word an already perfect novel.
The night air is cold, for winter is fast approaching Japan, and Izuku swings his legs into the empty space as he sits precariously on the ledge of the roof of their dorms. The moon was bright today, casting silver onto the floor, illuminating the school in an air that made it seem almost threatening.
He can’t understand who he’s supposed to be, but he knows he cannot be All Might. He’s considering all these options, talking to himself as though he could answer differently, when he hears heavy footsteps behind him. Izuku would know those footsteps in death.
“You’ve got a death wish,” Katsuki says, and flops down next to him, his legs swinging over the edge too. Their shoulders brush. “I thought you were afraid of heights like a pussy.”
“I’ve seen worse things than heights,” Izuku rubs his hands together. “They’ve actively tried to kill me.”
Katsuki doesn’t reply, just looks at the ground. He’s breathtaking in the moonlight- his blonde hair seems to be illuminated by it, turning a ethereal silver. Maybe it had been a long time coming, but as Izuku studies the outline of his body in the darkness, he realises with a profound start that he’s been horribly, horribly wrong.
Katsuki didn’t need to be fixed. Katsuki never needed to be fixed. Just because he was different, loud and angry and greedy, didn’t mean he was any less of a hero. Sure, his personality could use some work, but to fix him? Izuku had been selfish and thoughtless. As if he could try to fix someone, when he couldn’t fix himself.
“I’m sorry,” Izuku says, the words falling easily from his mouth. Katsuki looks over at him, an eyebrow raised. “I’ve been unfair to you.”
“You’re talking cock.”
“No, I mean it,” Izuku tilts his head back and looks at the dark sky. “I’ve been trying to fix you this whole time, like you were some…project. I shouldn't have. You’re fine like this, even if you are a jerk sometimes.”
“You were trying to fix me?” Katsuki’s voice takes on a dangerous tone that speaks of a warning, but Izuku doesn’t heed it.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, falls onto his back and lies there. “I thought I could make you good if I tried to be nice to you and love you.”
“How did that work out?”
“Well, terribly,” Izuku laughs in spite of himself. He feels relieved, as though a heavy burden that he’s been carrying for centuries has suddenly been lifted off his shoulders. He feels as though he could fly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so selfish. I-“
“Spit it out,” the way Katsuki is looking down at him makes Izuku think he knows more than he lets on. The demanding, self-satisfied smirk on his face speaks of him knowing a truth Izuku doesn't know, and he's just waiting for him to find out. “Or are you too much of a wimp?”
“Ah, you’re mean, Kacchan,” Izuku meets his eyes and then looks away. “Even though I can’t fix you, or I won’t, I still-“
“Still?”
“I still love you,” the words are not rushed, nor are they said slowly. There’s no simply no hesitation in the way he says it, for it is not a revelation. It's a statement of truth, borne from years and years of longing, a simple matter of fact that leaves no room for debate. The honesty in the statement makes Katsuki flush in spite of himself, but he doesn’t back down. “I still love you even though you’re a mean jerk. What does that make me?”
“I’m not always a mean jerk, shitty Deku,” Katsuki rolls his eyes and kicks his shin. “And it makes you a fucking masochist.”
Izuku sits upright and looks at him earnestly. “I know you love me too.”
There’s a profound silence in which Katsuki stares openmouthed at his daring.
“You’ve loved me for just as long as I have, right?” Izuku continues, still watching him with bright, glowing eyes.
“I bullied you.”
“Why?"
“Because you were weak and you insisted you could be strong like a fucking idiot.”
“And some part of you admired me for it, right?” Izuku’s hands close over his, calloused palms sliding across his skin.
“So what if it did?” Katsuki’s voice catches in his throat; he looks away, fearful of what he’d do when those eyes draw out emotion from him. He swings his legs out from the ledge and scoots inward to look at him properly.
“I bet you thought I was cool.”
“I think the fuck not.”
“But you don’t deny that you loved me,” Izuku smiles happily at him. “Because you did, and it turned into hate. Because you suck at handling emotions. But that’s okay. You don’t have to say it.”
“Say what?” His voice is definitely hoarse now. Every part of him aches.
“That you love me. I’ll love enough for the both of us until you can,” Izuku’s hand- his crooked right one- moves from his hands and ghosts over the side of his face. There’s a painful lump in Katsuki’s throat.
He hates this. This is what he’d always hated about Izuku- the fact that he made him feel utterly weak and useless, as though he’s being led by a string to regions he knows not what to expect. He hated how he always felt he was at his mercy, and that even when bullying him, he still felt as though he was losing.
He wouldn’t lose now.
Surging forward, he presses his lips to Izuku in an awkward kiss. Both of them do not know what they are doing; friendship was an unfamiliar territory, romance one like space. Still, it evokes a warm feeling in his chest when Izuku winds his arms around his neck and presses into the kiss. It makes him feel like protecting and living, and all kinds of mushy shit he wishes he didn't feel.
He runs his hands down Izuku’s waist, pulling him bodily into his lap. It felt warm, safe and secure to be held by Katsuki like this, Izuku thinks as they part, burying his face into Katsuki’s neck out of embarrassment.
“I’ll tell you I love you one day, shitty Deku,” Katsuki breathes out, holding the boy almost reverently in his arms. “Not today.”
“I can wait,” Izuku whispers, and there’s silence.
Perfect, gentle silence.