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Objectively, Izuku knows that it’s been seven years since All Might died--there have been seven Christmases and seven New Years, seven sets of friends’ birthdays and seven sets of twelve months that mean that it has to have been seven years--yet for Izuku, it feels like no time at all. There are mornings where he still wakes up with that uncontainable energy, ready for a new email, a new call, a new anything from his mentor. And there are mornings, then, that he has to remember that there will be none of that.
It’s not to say that it hasn’t gotten easier, because of course it has. He has friends who always bring him gifts of food and favors and wish him the best both before on the day of the anniversary and he has a therapist he talks to when his nightmares become too much to bare and he tries to move on. Some days, it easy. Some days, it’s not.
He’s been told that that’s just the cycle of grief. But he has his own cycle, too.
There’s a routine to it all that he’s come to expect. He knows that he won’t go into work on that day and that he’ll spend most of said day in the shower. He knows that around two, people will start calling him and reporters are going to lurk outside of the block (they’ve narrowed down the complex that “Deku” lives in, but that’s thankfully all). He knows that he’ll finally get up at around noon and he won’t eat much and he’s going to just kind of… exist for the day.
So when Katsuki looms over him from the edge of the bed, Izuku glares at him.
“What do you want?” he demands, though the words are smothered with sleep and the pillow.
“For you to get up.” There’s a softness in Katsuki’s voice that Izuku wants to gripe about, but Katsuki’s hand is warm and working the knot that usually builds in Izuku’s shoulder while he sleeps, so he’ll keep his complaints to himself. For the time being.
“Not getting up.”
“Oh, you most definitely are.”
“What time is it, even?”
“It’s ten. I let you sleep in a little.”
“Wow. Geez. Thanks.”
Katsuki snorts, poking Izuku’s shoulder in retaliation.
“I’m not getting up,” Izuku informs, pulling the blankets tight around himself in a decisive fashion. Then Katsuki stands up, sighing.
“Zuzu, you’ll get up if it’s the last thing that I do. Now, you can either get up or I’m going to make you.”
“I’d like to see you try,” but there’s a wariness to Izuku’s voice that he doesn’t want to admit to. Especially when Katsuki cracks his knuckles.
“Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”
And it happens in a matter of seconds. Izuku blames his inaction on a number of things--being half awake, his comfy position, his disbelief--but he goes from being curled up on the bed to being hauled up by his ankles, letting out a yelp when Katsuki throws his legs over his shoulders and proceeds to drag him from the room, hung upside down.
“Put me down! Put me down! No, this is not okay!” Izuku squirms as best as he can, but Katsuki has an impressive grip on Izuku’s ankles, apparently not even phased. Now, if Izuku really, really wanted to get out, he could, but he’s fond of the condition of their apartment (and of Katsuki, for that matter), so he won’t.
Katsuki deposits him in a heap on the bathroom floor before shutting the door and turning on the faucet to the tub.
“I was comfy.”
“I’m sure.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Most definitely.”
Katsuki isn’t even affected as he turns the shower head on and begins to undress.
“I don’t want sex right now.”
And for his part, Katsuki looks amused, pausing from pulling his shirt off to throw Izuku a look. “What part of this looks like we’re about to have sex? You’re gross and disgusting and you’re going to bathe and if I don’t shower with you, you’re going to sit in there the entire day.”
True.
“Though, you must be in a mood if you’re getting an eyeful of this and don’t want any of it,” he teases, gesturing to his now very naked self. And under any other circumstances, Izuku would climb him like a tree, but at the present, all he does it huff a weak laugh, shaking his head.
Katsuki helps him undress before herding him towards the shower. The water is warm to Izuku, but it’s got to be freezing to Katsuki who as good as bathes in molten lava. But Katsuki doesn’t complain, instead, he shuffles in with Izuku and takes turns with him for the water.
By the time that half an hour passes, they are both washed off and Izuku feels a little more awake (though the solid five minutes that Katsuki spent washing his hair almost put him right back to sleep). Katsuki spent the entire time helping Izuku and talking to Izuku and Izuku doesn’t want to say that it’s in a fashion he’s not used to, but it’s different, somehow.
The entire time in the shower, Katsuki kept it lively. He teased Izuku and prodded and poked and tickled him and blew a raspberry across Izuku’s cheek when he tried to pout until Izuki was helplessly laughing. It was all normal stuff, but there was something about it all that Izuku couldn’t explain. And maybe because it was normal, it all feels special at the moment.
So, Izuku gets out of the shower when he’s prodded to do so by Katsuki and they dress again.
“I don’t see why I have to wear real clothes,” complains Izuku, tugging awkwardly at the material of his jeans and wrinkling his nose at the way that Katsuki shoved a t-shirt at him.
“Because we’re leaving the apartment today and you’re not wearing your pyjamas out.”
“What? Why?!” And Izuku honest to god whines at Katsuki.
“Because you’re not sitting around the apartment and sulking today.” And with that, he shoves a hoodie into Izuku’s hands.
“It’s… I’m not… Sulking isn’t the word that I would use!”
“Stewing has the same meaning.” Katsuki walks out of the bedroom, leaving Izuku there feeling somewhere between annoyed and… something else. However, he’s mostly feeling annoyed. Maybe even a bit resentful.
For seven years now, he’s dealt with his grief in a particular manner and for Katsuki to just steamroll over that makes something ache in his chest. But he still gets dressed, wrinkling his nose only a little when he realizes that the hoodie that Katsuki shoved at him is Katsuki’s dumb licensed Exploom merchandise.
That being said, he really does look good in Katsuki’s colours.
When he finally shuffles down to the kitchen, Katsuki is bobbing back and forth between the oven, the fridge, and the coffee maker, pausing long enough to shove Izuku into a chair with a fresh cup of coffee.
“Where are we even going?”
“Grocery shopping. Heroes have to eat.”
“I got that,” he mutters into the coffee though the bitter burn soothes him a little. “We’re going to get swarmed by people when we go out.”
“So we make an effort to look our most civilian. That’s my hoodie. They’re not going to look for Deku in Exploom things, will they?”
And though he hates to admit it, Katsuki has a point. So all he does is shrug and start to pick at the food that Katsuku plops down in front of him with a pointed “Eat that.” It’s not extraordinary by any means and, by Katsuki’s standards, it’s pretty bland, but Izuku doesn’t mind it. Actually, it’s pretty good, but Izuku doesn’t remember the last time that he’s had a real breakfast, so the eggs and the rice and the sausage are well received.
When he looks up, Katsuki is barely restraining a smile.
“What’re you so happy about?”
“I think I finally found something you’re not complaining about.”
“I can change that really quickly.”
Izuku kind of deserves it when Katsuki throws the dishtowel at him.
The moment that Katsuki starts trying to get Izuku out of the apartment, the man complains.
And he complains.
And he complains .
“If you don’t shut up, Zuzu, I swear to god, I will…” And he trails off, trying to think of a good enough threat as Izuku snorts beside him inside of the train.
“Real scary.” Izuku yelps when Katsuki warms his hand under the hoodie and t-shirt to touch the inferno to his skin.
“Hey! That hurt!” All Katsuki does it smirk in reply. Izuku crosses his arms over his chest and huffs, though that doesn’t stop him from leaning both into one of the poles and Katsuki simultaneously. He doesn’t want to be out. In fact, he’d rather be home and in bed than in the train with a million other people. It’s loud and just about as he’s ready to start complaining about having a headache, Katsuki unceremoniously shoves a pair of headphone into Izuku’s hands.
After Izuku stares at them blankly for what seems ages, Katsuki sighs.
“If you don’t want it, give them back.” But Izuku rolls his eyes, puts the headphones in and plugs it into Katsuki’s phone to scroll through music--it is a truth universally acknowledged that Katsuki really does have the better taste in music.
So Izuku hums quietly under his breath the entire ride, taking and squeezing Katsuki’s hand as the man keeps an eye on the stops for them.
Izuku doesn’t take the headphones out until they’re off of the train, out of the station, down the road, and inside of the grocery store and only when Katsuki pulls one of them out himself.
“Hey? What’s that for?”
“So you can hear me.” Katsuki grabs a cart. For a moment, he looks at it before gesturing at it with a lopsided smile.
“I am not getting in the cart.”
“Don’t gotta walk, then. And you can complain all you want. C’mon, like when we were kids.”
Izuku very vividly remembers a bunch of the kids in class playing around in one of the old carts that was left behind the school. Katsuki and a few of the other boys had hauled it to the top of the hill, then Izuku let himself get talked into being pushed down the hill inside of it.
His mother didn’t think it was nearly as good of an idea as Izuku did when he came home with a broken arm.
“I promise I won’t push you down any hills.” And the combination of the way that Katsuki holds out his pinkie and smiles makes Izuku roll his eyes, take the pinkie, then haul himself into the cart.
It takes a big of finagling because Katsuki keeps moving the carat, both on purpose and on accident, dissolving into even more laughter when Izuku finally settles down into place. He looks like an idiot with both legs hanging out over the edge, but neither of them care. Katsuki leans forward against the handles, the headphone that isn’t in Izuku’s ear now in Katsuki’s ear as they talk in low voices to one another and prowl through the store.
Despite the looks that they get from customers and employees, it is almost fun. Well, maybe fun is gratuitous. Katsuki pushes the cart along and makes random patterns that jerk Izuku lightly around, throws random items on top of Izuku who weakly gives a commentary now and again (“We need five boxes of that.” “What… What even is that?” Katsuki asks, not stopping the cart despite Izuku’s attempt to reach the boxes of what looks like American cereal. “I don’t know, I just--” Izuku’s foot swings out too far and knocks off half the shelf. Both of them stop for a moment before Katsuki sighs, stops, and picks up the disaster. “I love you…” Izuku mumbles softly into the material of the hoodie, trying to disappear into the fabric. “I love you, too, Zuzu.”), but it is otherwise uneventful.
It isn’t until they get to the checkout and Katsuki has to help Izuku out that he even takes much of an inventory of what they’re buying.
“Did you buy ingredients for katsudon?” Izuku asks, watching the cashier bag them and hand the goods to Katsuki.
“Yeah.”
“You… You don’t like it. You said it’s too greasy.”
He watches as Katsuki hands over his card to the cashier and shrugs. “You like it, though.” And the smile on Izuku’s face lingers for a very long period of time. It even stays that way as they step outside, the heat immediately trying to suffocate Izuku in spite of the fact it is only just early spring. As they make their way back towards the station, Katsuki posits every now and again if Izuku wants to stop for something. Ice cream? Bookstore? Clothing store?
“I heard they just released new Deku merchandise. I’m sure you’re excited. Think I could get your face on a t-shirt? Oo, what about a waffle maker? I hear that that’s a thing that they do now.”
Hero work. Right. And the words seem to call back to memory exactly the day that it is and, suddenly, that smile is sapped away. Katsuki seems to notice immediately, juggling around the groceries to take Izuku’s hand in his own.
“Hey, come on. We’re gonna take the long way back.”
“What? Why?”
“I just... “ And Katsuki shrugs his shoulders. “Trust me?” As much as Izuku wants to say “no,” he follows.
The way that they take becomes far more populated than the way that they had before and along the road, Katsuki switches places with Izuku so that Izuku is on the side closest to the buildings. At first, it doesn’t make sense, but then Izuku sees a daunting statue of a goliath of a hero in the ahead and across the street and his stomach drops.
Izuku pulls the hood a little further down his face as they walk past the memorial of the late All Might. And, granted, “passed it” at this point just means within a block of it. Half of the city is there, even all of these years later with reporters and heroes and camera crews and it makes Izuku’s stomach turn. When Katsuki squeezes his hand, Izuku holds on like it’s the only thing keeping him anchored.
For a solid block, they walk hand-in-hand and Katsuki guides Izuku along until the buildings start to thin out. Izuku supposes that when Katsuki said “long way,” he wasn’t kidding. Suddenly, Izuku looks up and the buildings are nothing more than a surrounding backdrop to this small little corner of the world and they’re standing in the middle of a graveyard.
“Kacchan, what are we doing?”
Katsuki continues to pull him along, not letting go of his hand. Across the well-worn path they travel until they come to a series of tombstones that seem to be long forgotten. But Katsuki doesn’t say anything for the longest time before pulling Izuku in front of a single grey stone that he wouldn’t pick from the rest if he didn’t know it better.
For all the pomp and circumstance at the statue to All Might, the actual tomb of Yagi Toshiniri doesn’t have anything. There’s not even an indicator that the Symbol of Peace and this man are connected. Izuku remembers putting up a fight at the time to have some kind of identification there, but after all of this time, he respects the decision not to.
“I don’t…”
“We were already out. I figured that stopping by wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
For a few moments, all Izuku can do is stare at Katsuki before his vision starts to swim with tears.
“I don’t…”
“Look, I…” Katsuki turns to look away from Izuku. “I don’t know how you need to grieve. That’s between you and… well, you, I guess. I just... “ And he pushes a hand through his hair, colour starting to rise in his cheeks. “Uraraka told me how you’ve been dealing with it in the past and I just… I don’t know. You don’t have to deal with this by yourself, idiot. I’m here, for whatever you need. And your doctor got into contact with me--”
“Oh, come on, seriously?!”
“Yes, seriously . I’m your emergency contact, for Christ’s sake, I can see why.” He takes a deep breath, exhaling. “Anyway, and she said that you have a tendency to isolate yourself, so I… I don’t know. That’s not good for you.”
“So making me wear your hoodie and blowing raspberries on my face and making me sit in the grocery store was your way of trying to cheer me up?” Izuku’s laughter is helpless sounding as his throat and nose start to burn with the threat of tears.
“I’m not good at this, alright? Just… you laying in bed all day and then the shower if you could manage it probably isn’t healthy for you.”
“No, you’re…” Izuku sniffs loudly. “You’re right. You’re right.”
Katsuki’s attention snaps to Izuku in that instant, rushing forward as the man starts to cry.
“Oh god, oh god, I was-- I didn’t--!”
“No, no!” Izuku laughs, waving him off. “These are… I’m… Thank you .” He feels Katsuki seize up slightly when Izuku hugs him before relaxing and holding onto Izuku.
“Anything for you, you nerd.”
“I… I just…” Izuku’s grip on Katsuki’s shirt suddenly grows tighter as he realizes that he can’t stop crying. But rather than pulling away, Katsuki shifts the pair of them so that Izuku’s face is buried into the crook of Katsuki’s neck.
The thing about other people is that they tend to tiptoe around Izuku. His doctor, Ochako, his co-workers, most people for that matter just are so wary of what they do around him that he feels like a bomb ready to explode. But even in the little things that Katsuki has done to dote on Izuku, he still treats him like normal. They bathe, they eat, they joke, they do things like the day is nothing special; like everything that he is feeling is normal and this day hasn’t felt normal in so long.
He knows it never will and for the rest of his life, there will be a guilt that haunts him from sunrise to sunset, but it’s nice to know that he’s not alone in that feeling.
Minutes pass where Izuku shakes and sobs into Katsuki’s shoulder, starkly aware of the fact that he’s making Katsuki’s shirt a mess. But Katsuki doesn’t pull away, doesn’t tell him to stop, doesn’t do anything more than rub his back in a slow, soothing motion with a heated palm beneath his shirt.
“You’re alright. It’s alright. I’m here.”
“Yeah? Promise?” Izuku chokes out when he can finally bring himself to talk again.
Izuku hums when Katsuki turns his mouth against Izuku’s temple and kisses it. “Yeah. I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”
That seems to do it a little for Izuku. The tears come slower and slower until he can pull back, face puffy and eyes red, but under control at least a little.
“What do I do?” Izuku asks at length, looking back to the tombstone. “I’ve… I never actually came by here.”
“Well, people usually leave something.”
“Oh, but I didn’t--”
He looks over at Katsuki at the sound of rustling and feels his heart ache in his chest when Katsuku pulls out a pair of lovely, even if slightly crumpled flowers.
“How did you hide those?”
“I’m awesome. Next question.”
“Where did you get those?”
“I literally bought these while you were standing next to me, idiot. Now, go on.”
“Do I…?” Izuku takes the flowers and laughs.
“You do what you have to do. It’s different for everyone. When I…” And Katsuki goes quiet briefly. Izuku can see the way that he steels himself before he speaks. “I usually talk when I go visit my parents’ graves. Just conversation. It… It helps me, at least.”
Izuku smile grows soft.
“Thank you.”
Katsuki shrugs. “I’ll be over here, okay?”
“Okay.” He takes a moment to straighten out the hoodie, pushing his curls from his face and cradling the flowers before turning back. “Kacchan?”
He stops, turning to look at Izuku with a concerned expression.
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
And Katsuki grins back at him. “I love you, too, Zuzu.”