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It’s not something he realizes right away – the way the dawn breaks slowly with everything backlit in blue, until all at once you realize you can see clearly in a rush of color.
Katsuki rolls over and stares at the slats of light from the streetlamps shining through the blinds cast on the wall. It feels weird to be back still. He wasn’t with the League of Villains for long, but the few days feel like both yesterday and a lifetime ago.
He hates how quiet it is here. Hates how it leaves room to think.
All that bounces in his mind is how late it’s getting, how his sleep schedule is going to be fucked up. He’d excused himself to bed early and yet, here he is, watching the shadows gradually lighten on his wall.
His thoughts feel muddy; thick swathes of sand sucking him down. They stretch their tendrils long and dark and he tucks the blankets up to his chin.
What a weakling he is.
Not only was he taken advantage of because of his personality, but his friends got hurt because of him, too. Countless other pro heroes were injured in the effort to rescue him and he single-handedly ruined All Might’s career. No matter what All Might says… it’s the truth.
He’s one of the only ones to fail his provisional hero license exam, too. Class 1-A has been tiptoeing around him ever since he got back. He hates being handled with kiddie gloves. At least his parents still treat him the same.
He thinks of his mother’s words – how if he hadn’t been so weak and gotten caught in the first place, they wouldn’t be in this mess.
Katsuki flips over and stares out the balcony door. The sun breaks over the horizon in a warm, orange glow as he finally drifts. He sleeps fitfully.
It’s frustrating, being on house arrest. Katsuki puts his back into his cleaning in an effort to distract himself. Across the way, Deku does the same. There’s only so much to be done though, and the thoughts follow not long after.
Katsuki stacks the dishes from the drying rack, stopping to throw the spoons into their spot in the silverware drawer. He picks up a plate, placing it in the cabinet before grabbing the next one.
He catches Deku’s reflection in it and his mind wanders to their fight, thinking of how he bested him; of how All Might chose Deku to be his successor. How Katsuki wasn’t good enough to be chosen instead.
Isn’t that always the issue?
The plate breaks in his hands.
He barely registers it, the pieces hitting the floor with a loud clatter. He doesn’t cry, no – he’s above that – but it’s then he notices he’s bleeding. The cut wells up on his hand, shallow enough that it oozes sluggishly. He watches it, feeling numb and wrung out.
“Kacchan!”
Deku is suddenly there, pressing up in Katsuki’s space. He hisses when he grabs his hand, turning it over to examine the cut.
“Why can’t I get anything right?” he asks. He’s tired, resigned. He barely cares about the way Deku looks up at him, eyes going wide.
He doesn’t cry.
He doesn’t cry when Deku reaches out.
He doesn’t cry when Deku pulls him into a hug.
It’s not something he realizes right away – the gentle touch he isn’t used to feeling electric on his skin. When was the last time he was treated so gently? He used to think it equated to being looked down on, to being pitied. But this… this is different.
He thinks of All Might’s hug and apology, of how he pulled away. Being treated so soft makes his skin itch, makes him restless.
He doesn’t pull away from Deku.
Wasn’t that what they cleared the air over anyhow? That Deku has never been looking down on him, has never scorned him. That it had all been a big misunderstanding, years in the making.
How stupid has he been?
He doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Deku pulls away. He ducks to peer up at Katsuki’s face, and their eyes meet. There isn’t pity there, no source of malice – only concern, and something so soft it makes Katsuki’s breath hitch in his chest. He looks away.
Deku kisses him.
The train of thought in Katsuki’s mind flatlines. There’s nothing but silence ringing in his ears and the thrum of his heartbeat in his veins.
The touch is soft. Barely there.
Katsuki presses closer, tilting his head to the side and sliding their lips together. Deku makes a noise and it rattles the cage in Katsuki’s chest. It’s full of something – not butterflies, they’re too gentle – bees, maybe. It’d explain the buzz beneath his skin.
They stumble back, bumping into the counter as they go, until they reach the couch. Katsuki didn’t realize how little he’s been touched, how little he’s been treated kindly like this, and it swells up in his chest until it bursts.
Deku pulls back, thumbs swiping beneath Katsuki’s eyes. They come back damp. “Kacchan–”
Katsuki doesn’t let him finish, tucking in close and kissing with a fervor he didn’t know he had in him, trying desperately to find a home in Deku’s arms and ribs. He doesn’t want to come up for air, doesn’t want Deku to finish that sentence, because he doesn’t know when he’ll be touched like this again – wanted and safe.
It’s pathetic, isn’t it? He’s supposed to be a hero. He’s supposed to make other people feel safe, but he’s scared all the time. Ever since he was kidnapped. Maybe even before – when that sludge villain took him hostage and all the heroes stood by and watched.
He has to take care of Deku, because otherwise everything All Might has done will have been in vain. He has to atone for being his end. But Katsuki feels too weak to even protect himself – how can he protect someone he loves?
Loves.
Fuck.
That’s what this is, isn’t it?
Katsuki pushes down the thought to deal with later. It’s like standing on the brink of an unknowable sea and teetering forward. The moment before the fall. It’s terrifying.
But right now he feels safe. Deku makes him feel safe.
Deku seems to understand, because he doesn’t pull away, instead tugging Katsuki down onto the couch and into his lap. He doesn’t seem to care that they’re panting into each other’s mouths or that Katsuki’s tears are on his face. It’s messy and sticky, but so, so good.
He just gives and gives and gives; pours his touch and affection into Katsuki like a fresh spring to a barren well.
Katsuki hiccups and finally pulls back for air. He glances away, ashamed, but doesn’t fight it when Deku guides his face to the curve of his neck.
“‘M sorry,” he mumbles into the soft, freckled skin there.
“No,” says Deku. “I’m sorry.”
Katsuki snorts. “What for?”
“For not noticing earlier.”
He runs his hand down Katsuki’s back and he can’t fight the shudder that runs through him. He stamps down the shame that bubbles in his stomach and grips at Deku’s t-shirt.
He isn’t sure what comes next; isn’t sure he wants to know.
There’s so much he has to apologize for, so much he needs to unlearn and address about himself. He isn’t sure he’s ready to face it all head on. He doesn’t expect Deku to fix him, and Deku probably doesn’t either, but he thinks maybe… just maybe Deku could be patient enough to wait while Katsuki figures out how to tear down his walls.
He’s waited this long, after all.
Deku presses a kiss behind Katsuki’s ear and pulls him close.
They can figure all that out later, he thinks, letting his eyes fall closed as he settles firmly in Deku’s lap. He knows their classmates will be back soon, and he’ll have to figure out where to go from here, but for now that can wait. For now, he can just relax into the safety of Deku’s arms and let go of all the weight he’s been dragging around.
It won’t be easy, but when has he ever backed down from a challenge?
His tears slow and their breathing matches pace. Katsuki feels quiet, but a good kind of quiet now. The cut on his hand has crusted over and will now start to heal.
And as Deku squeezes him close and strokes his back, Kastuki thinks maybe it’ll be worth it in the end.