Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Midoriya Izuku never really liked drinking alcohol.

Honestly, he only drank when he hung out with friends or during the yearly get-togethers of their class. Still, other than that, he avoided it entirely. Blame his childish tastebuds, but he never liked the burn of shots or the bitter kick of beer.

But, when things got terrible– losing a civilian during rescue ops or hostage situations went awry– Izuku found himself staring down the bottom of a bottle (or, on some days, bottles).

Today though, rather than a bottle, he stared down at the envelope lying on his kitchen counter as he downed another shot of vodka. The more he looked at it, the more he wished for a quirk that could set things he sees–hates, but no, he can't hate because that's such an ugly emotion– on fire.

Izuku couldn't help but laugh at the situation he found himself in. Never in a million years did he expect to be one of those people, but of course, who was he kidding? He knew exactly what was on this path when he started on it.

Still, it didn't erase the fact that it hurt.

The words looked so sickeningly innocent, splattered on a piece of paper. But each stroke was like a punch in the gut, and each word a hammer that brought him to his knees.

He downed another shot, already opening another bottle, not noticing– choosing not to– how his eyes burned and his cheeks soaked. Izuku prefers to think that some of the vodka spilled instead of acknowledging the lump in his throat or the squeezing in his chest.

The warm feeling of alcohol spread through him, cloaking him in a daze which he latched onto. This was why he was drinking, after all.

To avoid the pain, the hurt, the reality of Katsuki–his but not his Kacchan never loving him back.

It made him want to scream until his voice was gone, to sob and wail until there were no more tears left, to just plead and ask every god in existence out there–

Why?

***

3 years ago

The first time Izuku heard the rumor, he had just finished patrolling, ready to get out of his hero gear and go home.

Well, alright, he didn't actually explicitly hear it but more like overheard (not eavesdrop) hushed whispers in the break room. Usually, he didn't really pay to mind such things. He was already getting ready to hit the showers when the words' Dynamight' and 'dating' stopped him in his tracks.

It's really not his fault that he has super-hearing when it comes to anything about Kacchan.

While Izuku's not exactly the 'best' at stealth, he was Pro-Hero Deku, now 3rd in the rankings. So if he suddenly had a craving for coffee which, oh my, was available in the break room, that wouldn't be suspicious, right?

Smiling and greeting the group huddled over a tablet, he headed over to the coffee maker, starting it up (and maybe tilted his body towards the group, who can say).

"Oh, wow, I can't believe it! Are you sure that's real?" A person from HR– or was it Legal– squealed, their eyes glued to the tablet. Another huffed at the comment before swiping at the screen.

"Of course it's real! I mean, look at these pictures! Who else could explode the lens of the camera, like that?"

"Well, maybe they did that on purpose to sell the story? Though, if it is photoshopped, they did a pretty good job with his trademark scowl."

It hasn't been a minute, and Izuku was already brimming with curiosity. He itched to use OFA just to head over real quick (which is really such a misuse of his quirk, sorry, All Might).

Honestly, he's more curious about the other part of the rumor.

As if reading his thoughts, one (bless their soul) pointed at the screen, "Man, his date's hot, though!"

"You sure it's a date though? I mean, for all we know she's a classmate or something."

"Idiot, Dynamight went to UA. How could someone who's not a hero even be his classmate? She's definitely a date."

At this point, Izuku's mind was processing tons of information at once, maybe at the fastest pace he's ever done in his life.

So, Kacchan was probably dating someone, who was most likely a girl with dark hair, maybe long legs, and sharp cheekbones because, of course, Kacchan wouldn't settle for anything less than perfect, which is why he would never choose Izu–

Woah, okay, not the time or the place to go down that rabbit hole, Izuku. He mentally slaps himself. You're on a mission here.

As naturally as someone who is definitely not eavesdropping, he headed over to one of the cupboards to get a mug which was, coincidentally, by the group. 'Looking' for one, he strained his ears to hear the group, who were still (thankfully) gossiping.

"Well, okay, but why the presumption that it's a date, though? I mean, they could just be friends or maybe a coworker?"

The person-probably-from-HR-or-Legal snorted and swiped again, "Friends or coworkers don't exactly look at each other like that do they?"

No longer able to stop his curiosity, Izuku peeked over his shoulder to finally see whatever tabloid fake news it was so he can finally rest easy and go home and– oh.

It was a picture.

It was most likely taken from a car outside and zoomed in so much that it was almost too blurry to discern the subjects from the angle.

Emphasis on the 'almost.'

From the striking blonde hair to the crimson eyes, Izuku knew it was Kacchan. He knew– God, he wished he didn't– from the furrow in his brow, the almost permanent sneer on his face, and his guarded stance.

Because at the same time, he couldn't recognize him– his childhood friend, his idol, his rival, the love of his life. The picture was taken haphazardly, as if in a rush, but the message was clear.

They were sitting by the window, the candle on their table enveloping them in a warm glow. It looked like Kacchan was in the middle of insulting something– by the way his eyes were narrowed– but any irritation appeared to melt away when she reached over the table and held his hands. Even as just a picture, Izuku could see the tension that was building up roll away, his eyes that usually had intense heat settling into a simmer, his brows less furrowed, and his sneer turning into more of a pout.

"Oh, wow... I can't believe Dynamight can make that expression too."

Izuku really should've just gone home.

***

The second time he heard about it was 3 months later (not that Izuku mulled over the article and photos since then, no, he most definitely did not).

This time, instead of hearing it from a group of gossiping coworkers, he heard it from the most unexpected source.

"Her name's Fujiko."

Frankly, he thinks that choking on his ramen is a pretty warranted reaction when the love of your life suddenly springs on you the name of the person they're dating. Seriously dating, a voice in his mind mockingly added, which he was too busy choking to shush away.

"Ack–" He coughs, reaching for a glass of water which Kacchan had already shoved in his face, expecting the reaction. It took a couple gulps of water (and maybe an inner mantra of keeping calm that he's mastered over the years) before he could– dared to ask.

"Um, uh... who?"

Kacchan snorted, taking a sip of beer, "Really, Deku? Taking the oblivious route now? I know you've seen the shitty tabloids." Izuku opened his mouth to protest because no, I don't read those because I am definitely not updated on the dinner date you had last week but quickly shut it under Kacchan's glare.

They remained silent for a while, with Izuku fidgeting and being a nervous wreck because he was literally caught red-handed on being curious about his crush's– friend's love life, which he guesses is pretty normal behavior and warranted, so maybe it's okay to keep asking and not be awkward about it like it is now and but what if he gets found out–

"Ugh, stop the muttering already, nerd!" Kacchan growled, slamming his beer glass on the table. That earned a glare from the owner, which Izuku sheepishly apologized for.

"Sorry Kacchan! It's just that uh... I don't really– we don't really talk about stuff like this? I mean, not that I don't want to, of course! We are friends after all so we have a kind of societal obligation to share our romantic endeavors with each other. But, I mean I'm not saying we owe each other–oomf!"

Kacchan shoves a dumpling in his mouth, "Just shut your mouth, eat, and I'll do the talking you rambling nerd."

He dutifully shuts his mouth after that, not that he had any other choice since he had to chew the dumpling, and Midoriyas never waste food.

So he focuses entirely on Kacchan (when has he ever not), who in turn clears his throat and looks away. The lighting in their booth might've been flickering because it was either that or Kacchan was blushing.

Izuku's betting on the fickle lighting.

"Her name's Fujiko. I met her at a dojo that one of the shelter kids go to– you know, the really annoying one. I only went there a couple times to pick the kid up 'cause the usual help at the shelter got a fucking cold," Kacchan grumbled, "Honestly, I barely talked to her. You know how it is with civilians, Deku. I got no patience for the stupid staring and ass-kissing."

Izuku couldn't help but smile, seeing through the faux annoyance Kacchan put up. While he did hate the fangirling of some, the blonde loved volunteering at the shelter and taking care of the kids (even though he would most likely throttle Izuku if he said that).

He and Kacchan had started up the shelter a few years back when juvenile crime rates reached an all-time high. It had been a tough time in their career because they had to– no matter how much his instincts screamed at him– subdue frightened and lost kids like they were villains.

The idea came to them when an accident in the field led to Kacchan holding Izuku as he cried and wailed over the broken body of the child who society labeled as a villain.  It took some haggling (threatening, on Kacchan's part). Still, after so much red tape from both the Commission and many many government departments, they finally got the green for it.

For Izuku, he saw it as an opportunity to help as much as he could. He loved volunteering on his days off, yes, but he knew it was something special to Kacchan. Though the blonde would never admit it, he knew that Kacchan saw himself– the younger, arrogant bully– in the kids. Even after so many hushed apologies over the years, he knew that Kacchan sees it as a cross he'll bear for the rest of his life.

(And how badly Izuku wanted to carry that with him but knew this was one he couldn't)

He had long finished eating but knew better than interrupt the blonde's tirade (no matter how much his heart was screaming at him to stop him stop this walk away, don't listen).

After all, he could never not listen to Kacchan.

"After like, the 3rd time? Or was it the 4th time? What the fucking ever. Anyway, it turned out that the annoying little shit kid volunteered me to spar with her, because 'she'd kick my ass'," Katsuki scoffed. "And I never turn away from a fucking challenge– you know that Deku– so I took her on. And..."

God, what Izuku would've done– would've offered to be the one that places that fond (almost lovestruck, a voice whispered) look on Kacchan's face. To be the one who smooths over the scowl on his face with just a hold of his hand. He would've offered his soul, his quirk, to be the one.

(But he can't, and he knows that)

"Well," Kacchan clears his throat, the tip of his ears still red, "that's the whole fucking story nerd. And I'm gonna twist your neck if you expect me to call you at night and share fucking 'romantic endeavors' like a pair of teenagers."

Izuku couldn't help but laugh at that, his eyes disappearing into crescents. "Of course not, Kacchan, we're not kids," he grinned playfully, "I'm expecting you to send me memes and rants about it, because we are adults."

It's already a reflex when he dodges the dumpling thrown at him, laughing at the swears and threats the blonde muttered at him.

For the rest of the night, they talked and caught up with each other. Kacchan proudly boasted about his capture rate in the past weeks. At the same time, Izuku went on a tirade about the various villain quirks he had to work around during his missions.

Like all the other nights they spend like this, Izuku allows himself to be happy. Just tonight, just like this, let's pretend he's mine, and nothing else matters outside of this. **

After spending a good few hours at the bar, they finally called it a night. They walked together, occasionally bumping shoulders and brushing hands (which sent tingles and warmth through Izuku). When they were about to go their separate ways, the blonde lingered, obviously mulling over something.

"Kacchan?"

In the dimly lit street, he couldn't clearly see Kacchan's expression. Though even if he could have, he wasn't sure if he could understand it. One second, there was too much of everything, and the next, there was nothing.

"De–Izuku, you... You're really okay with it?" Kacchan whispered, and Izuku didn't realize how close the other had gotten. He had to tilt his head and meet crimson eyes that he could never read in all the years he's spent with him.

He didn't need to ask what he was referring to. Even with the stories and laughter, Izuku's mind betrayed him all night by recalling tabloid pictures of the dates, Kacchan's soft expression, and her name in his mind.

Looking at Kacchan now, he knew–didn't know why– that he can stop this.

He can stop the dates, the pictures in restaurants and theaters, the holding hands and kisses with one word. And Izuku was so so tempted to reach out and take the reins that Kacchan–that Katsuki's giving him. If he was weaker and maybe a little more selfish, then he could've pulled and never let go.

But then he remembers the soft expressions, the easy smiles, and the gentle voices. And, no, never.

So he puts on and gives the most earnest smile he could, covering up any cracks because he could never– must never show Bakugou Katsuki anything less than his support.

"Yeah... I'm really happy for you, Kacchan."

***

It wasn't like one of those cliché moments on TV where the feeling hits like a punch to the chest, and a warm bubbly feeling spreads through their body.

No, Izuku wouldn't describe love that way. Honestly, romantic flicks exaggerate too much.

If it was up to him, he'd be frank about it.

Realizing he was in love was a process– one that he didn't know was happening until he'd already gone through it. Love was a concept, an emotion that couldn't be grasped by mind power alone. It carried too much weight and complexity to be immediately understood by a person.

This is why it took a good few years for him to properly place it and another grueling couple of years to accept it.

If he could pinpoint a particular point in his life when the process started, it would have been after their big fight. Finally expressing his feelings of frustration and sadness at Bakugou Katsuki and the blonde returning them **was like a door was unlocked.

Now, Izuku could've chosen to never open that door and remain in the safe room of friendship and rivalry. Life would've been much simpler if he had the common sense to deadlock the door and turn away.

But who was he kidding? Common sense was never in the equation when it came to Kacchan.

So, like all the other fools in the history of humankind, he opened the door and god, how badly he wanted to look back and regret (and maybe Detroit Smash himself), but couldn't.

Because Midoriya Izuku could never regret falling in love with Bakugou Katsuki.

"To me, you were an amazing, inspiring person... who was even closer to me than All Might! And because of that, I always..." 

He could never regret how he opened himself up and offered everything to his childhood friend, rival, and idol; his star.

Because falling in love with Kacchan was like tasting chocolate for the first time, like basking in the sun after a lifetime in darkness. He knew the world was still the same, but at the same time, shifted because, oh, this is love.

So yeah, maybe those romantic movies somehow had a point, but Izuku still thinks kissing in the rain is a weird thing to do because how could they even not think of getting sick after willingly soaking themselves instead of doing the sensible thing of kissing under an umbrella or maybe at home–

And, maybe he understands the appeal after imagining him and Kacchan under the rain and in each other's arms, but still.

As much as he loved to analyze everything, this was one of the things he had to pack in a box and lock away. Not because he was afraid (he was), but because he knew better than most that pursuing this was not ideal.

Deku and Dynamight breathed and lived for the goal of reaching the top, to be the Symbol of Hope and Victory. To be number one. To win to save, and save to win.

And Izuku would give up his quirk before he lets himself become a distraction– a hindrance to that.

***

Bottles of sake and vodka littered the coffee table, with only the light of the muted TV illuminating the room. All windows and curtains were drawn shut, with some clothes strewn all over the floor.

A trail of liquor bottles followed into the kitchen, with Izuku slumped over the kitchen island, clutching an empty glass. Amidst the chaos around him was a surprisingly clean spot where a torn envelope and a card lay.

The card was standard and straightforward, so much so that one could almost overlook the words printed on it.

"You are cordially invited to Bakugou Katsuki and Takashima Fujiko's wedding on the 15th of July. You fuckers better RSVP and follow the dress code or I'm gonna explode your extra faces."

Chapter Text

Bang bang bang

A lump on the sofa squirmed, moving about until it hit the floor with a thud. Izuku groaned, the ringing in his head intensified by the continuous pounding at the door. He really shouldn't have drunk that much last night.

Though nowadays, really, he couldn't help himself.

He could honestly do without the horrible hangovers, though, that's for sure.

Bang bang bang

"Ugh," Izuku groaned, forcing himself to stand, a bit wobbly on his feet. Still wrapped in a blanket he had grabbed last night before crashing, he waddled towards the door. Swinging it open, he was fully intent on telling that person to please kindly shut up (though, of course, he'd say it more nicely).

"Please, whoever you are, can you just–" He stopped mid-sentence as a flash of red and yellow barreled past him. If the ringing in his head wasn't so bad, he might've acted on instinct to tackle the intruder.

Except it wasn't an intruder.

It was someone way worse for an extremely hungover Izuku to handle (and heartbroken, a voice in his mind added, which, no, he was not).

"Oi, Deku! What the fuck? I've been calling your shitty phone since last night! Can't believe you stood me up again. You must really want to die, huh?!"

Sluggishly, Izuku sighed, resigning himself to his fate. Still wrapped in the blanket, he headed over to the kitchen where Kacchan always went to whenever he dropped by.

With the ringing in his head still there, he wordlessly slid onto the chair, surprised to see a glass of water and medicine on the table.

Confused as to where those came from (because he's pretty sure he ran out of medicine a couple of hangovers ago), he looked at Kacchan, who was aggressively(?) brewing some tea.

The blonde just bared his teeth at him, "Drink the fucking medicine already, nerd. You look like shit that's been run over."

"It's called being hungover, Kacchan. Maybe you should read up on it," Izuku shot back, nevertheless following the command and downing the medicine. He grimaced at the feeling of water going down his swollen throat. God, he really let go last night.

Well, it's a given when he'd spent the night scrolling through the many, many articles on the love of his life's wedding announcement.

It wasn't like Kacchan wanted to publicly announce it. He just didn't expect (though it wasn't a surprise) that his friends— those shitty extras as the blonde referred to them— would spread the news about the invitations online.

In a matter of hours, Japan had gone wild.

For the next couple of weeks, almost all news stations covered it— not even just tabloids any more, which made it all seem so real and painful.

And Izuku, he... Give him hundreds of villains any time of day, and he'd face them head-on, no matter how outnumbered he would be. But this?

This was a whole other world of pain that he thought he was already used to.

So he hid.

He may be a hero, but he's still human.

For 2 weeks (after he got the letter that sent him into a spiraling mess of tears, alcohol, and feelings), Izuku channeled all his energy into work.

Whenever he'd hear the Kacchan's ringtone, he'd go against every urge to scramble for his phone. Instead, he'd ignore it and bury himself in more patrol shifts, in more paperwork, in more everything else.

And he thought he was doing a pretty good job of it, to be honest. Kacchan must've gotten word of his increased work because the incessant messages and calls ceased after a couple days.

Which was fine. It was what Izuku wanted, after all.

Nope, he was most definitely not disappointed. No, he definitely did not spend several nights just staring at Kacchan's contact. And his search history on 'how to get someone to call you' is definitely lying.

Izuku knew this couldn't go on forever. And it definitely wasn't healthy judging by the number of bottles already piling up in his bedroom (which, thankfully, Kacchan didn't see).

Though, he should've known that Kacchan was anything but understanding or patient when ignored.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when the blonde in question slammed a cup of tea in front of him. Smelling the scent of jasmine, he smiled up at Kacchan as he sipped.

"Mhm, thanks, Kacchan."

"Hm, whatever," the blonde sat across him, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back in a comfortable position.

A comfortable silence draped over them, with only the sounds of Izuku drinking the tea and the coffee maker's churning accompanying it.

It might've been the effects of his hungover still clouding his mind in a haze or the flowery scent of jasmine that he couldn't help but relax and relish the wave of calm over him.

Izuku didn't notice he had zoned out when Kacchan slid back onto his seat (when had he even gotten up, he wondered). The latter nursed a mug of steaming coffee between his hands, and he couldn't help but chuckle at the copious amounts of creamer in the blonde's coffee.

"What're you laughing for, Deku? You goin' crazy on me?"

Izuku snorted into his tea, coughing a bit before shooting the other a grin, "I still can't believe you don't take coffee black."

"Ha? You got a problem with my coffee, nerd? I don't suss you out for your lame jasmine, do I?"

"You kinda just did, though."

"You got it coming after you dissed my coffee, shitty Deku," Kacchan glared while sipping his coffee as if to somehow spite the greennette in front of him.

After a few sips of tea, the ringing and the hazy cloud from hungover was vanishing, bringing back the waves of anxiety. God, what should he do now? Should he just continue on like this and avoid the whole radio silence thing? Or should he just give an excuse, maybe a lie? Though, he really did hate lying since it goes against his morals—

"Ugh, shut up. I'm guessing your hangover's gone by the way you're back to your stupid muttering, huh?"

Izuku shut his mouth, a flush of embarrassment running through him. God, he hoped Kacchan didn't hear any of that.

"So, you gonna give me an explanation of why the fuck you've been ignoring me or do I have to settle for a shitty excuse?"

Ah, well, there goes his hope.

He sheepishly smiled at the blonde, attempting to pacify him as hundreds of excuses ran through his head.

"I've been uh... busy?" Izuku cringed as soon as the words left his mouth. God, of all the excuses, he had to use the most cliché one.

Kacchan snorted as if reading Izuku's thoughts. "Yeah, no shit. I heard from Round Face that you've been practically carrying your agency's weight. Which is fine and all– go burn yourself out for all I care, that way I'll get to one-up you in rankings. I mean, it's not like it's not unusual to go radio-silence when work gets rough."

He paused, a sort of heavy air settling upon them, making Izuku hold his breath. Crimson eyes locked with his, his brow knitted, the corners of his mouth turned down, and— was Kacchan hurt?

"I just... I just don't get why you didn't give me a heads-up. You–" Kacchan paused, turning his gaze away. Letting out a breath, he stared down instead at his mug. "You missed our hang-out last night and just... left me dry, 'zuku."

Izuku felt rising bile of guilt in his throat, his eyes still focused on Kacchan, who wouldn't lift his gaze from the coffee mug.

"It's... I'm sorry, Kacchan." He bowed his head, clutching the now cold cup in his hands. He hates what he's done. What his thoughtless, selfish self had done.

He'd hurt Kacchan.

The person in question huffed, taking a long gulp of his coffee. It seemed like ages before the blonde spoke again, his voice now soft and almost hushed like he was afraid of getting an answer.

"Was it– did I– What did I do, 'zuku? And don't you dare say I didn't do shit," Kacchan glared at Izuku, who was already opening his mouth to protest. "Because I know for a fucking fact that I've been the only one on radio silence, you shit. So, out with it. What the hell did I do?"

A well-structured excuse was on the tip of Izuku's tongue, ready to fall from his lips at any moment's notice. But that was before he heard Kacchan— Bakugou Katsuki, pro-hero Dynamight who never showed weakness— sounding like it was his heart that got broken and not Izuku's.

And after so many years of therapy and hard work Kacchan had put into breaking down the layers of self-hatred he carried, Izuku didn't hesitate to throw his pride away to make sure he didn't spiral down that path again.

"The invitation..." He said softly, averting his eyes from crimson ones, looking down instead at his scar-filled hands.

He heard the blonde's breath catch, a tense silence blanketing over them. A silence that led his mind to override because, oh my god, what did he just say? He had basically just admitted he ignored his friend— best friend for weeks on end because he was getting married. Which is wrong because he's supposed to be happy, and it's a happy thing—

"Fuck," Kacchan slapped his hand on the table, the smell of burning wood emanating from the spot. Izuku looked up and was confused by the myriad of anger, frustration, and— was that uncertainty?— on the blonde's face.

"God fucking dammit!" Kacchan swore, getting up and pacing across the kitchen.

Well, that was a reaction he didn't expect. He expected irritation (obviously) that'd be followed up by a cocky 'Well, suck it up nerd', before sweeping the issue under the rug and moving on.

Izuku didn't expect— well, whatever it was Kacchan was doing now. All he knew was that the blonde was going to somehow explode something with how his palms crackled, and the smell of smoke filling the kitchen.

So, as a dutiful tenant who didn't want to bother his landlord and neighbors with a false smoke alarm, Izuku reached out and stopped the blonde in his tracks.

"Um... Kacchan? I mean, I guess you're angry 'cause I made you overreact with the radio silence and um, about the invitation, but can you please not set my kitchen on fire?"

He put on the most placating smile and tone that worked most of the time (actually, 1 out of 3 times, but he'll take the chance), hoping to minimize damage.

Kacchan snarled and pulled away from greennette, his crimson eyes almost burning a hole through Izuku's face.

Obviously, the smile and tone didn't work this time (this is why Izuku hated gambling).

"Angry? Overreact? Of course, I'm angry, shitty nerd! You–" Kacchan shoved a finger in his face, "You told me you were fine with it! That you were fucking happy for me, remember? And now I find out the first thing you do when I tell you I'm getting married is ignore me until I fucking storm into your house? Angry is a big fucking understatement, Izuku."

He couldn't help but flinch at the venom that dripped when Kacchan hissed his name, all sorts of emotions flooding through his body.

Shame, embarrassment, guilt.

But, surprisingly, anger reigned over all of them.

"I was–am fine with it, Katsuki!" Izuku hissed back, covering up the slip-up with a glare. His green eyes blazed with fire as he stood his ground. "It's your life! I have no control or say whatsoever, and as your friend, of course I'm fine with whatever you do with it."

"Then, what's the fucking problem?!"

"Because I thought I was your friend, Kacchan!" Izuku exploded, all the emotions he couldn't show, all the words and thoughts he couldn't say pouring out of him in droves of anger and frustration.

"Wha– what the hell do you–"

"I'm angry and hurt because," his voice hitched, feeling overwhelmed by the raw emotion dripping from it.

"Why did I only get the news that my best friend, my partner, was getting married through a flimsy piece of paper in the mail? Did I matter that little to you that you couldn't tell me in person?"

Izuku was now the one pacing, his hands burrowed in his hair. "God, you're getting married, Kacchan! It's a big moment in your life and I– I thought we were close enough for you to share it with me. You didn't tell me you were getting married. A piece of paper did."

He covered his face in his hands as all the frustration and anger were giving way to the pain and hurt that's been squeezing at his heart since he'd realized he'd been in love with his childhood friend and partner.

He knew he wasn't entirely truthful, but he wasn't lying either. For before he had fallen in love with Kacchan, he had cherished their friendship above all else.

His skin buzzed with so much emotion. Emotions that he had repressed and pushed into a little box, making him feel like he's on the verge of exploding or collapsing.

Warm, firm arms wrapped around his shaking body, enveloping him in an embrace. A hand carded through his hair, and another drew circles on his back. As if a switch was turned off, his body collapsed into the embrace, his hands falling from his face to clutch at Kacchan's back like his life depended on it.

They stayed like that for a while, the kitchen filled with soft sobs escaping from Izuku and Kacchan's scent of cinnamon and smoke filling his mind.

It took a few minutes, but Izuku's sobs eventually stopped, his labored breathing (which he didn't even notice) easing into a steady rhythm. Even though he knew he was already fine and could easily slip out of their position, Izuku couldn't help but want to keep the feeling of the blonde's warm hands around him.

(He swiftly shoved aside the rational voices in his mind who were nudging at him to get away)

Now relaxed, he was starting to feel awkward with the silence that hung after his— shoutfest? Explosion? Venting? Opening his mouth, he was about to say something— maybe a joke (whatever, he's grasping at straws at this point), but he froze when Kacchan buried his face in the crook of Izuku's neck.

Already feeling a flush forming from his neck up, his body tensed with the inner debate of push or hug. What exactly should he do here as a friend? Just hug him tighter or maybe shift to a friendlier hug, perhaps a side hug? If he moves, he has to push Kacchan away, which might just send mixed signals. Plus, what should he do with his arms, and wow Kacchan's hair smells so good—

"Stop muttering nerd and listen to what I have to say." Kacchan growled in his ear, shutting him up. No, Izuku most certainly did not get shivers down his whole body from feeling the blonde's breath on his ear. Nope, not at all.

He just suffers from occasional shivers from time to time, and it just so happens that he experiences it whenever a certain red-eyed blonde was breathing in very close proximity to him.

Yup, that's what he's going with.

Kacchan's fingers splayed out on Izuku's waist, squeezing for a second (a second where he did not breathe) before going back to drawing circles. "'m sorry, alright? I didn't know you'd take it that way. Though I should've fucking did 'cause you overthink every single thing."

Ignoring Izuku's what no, I don't, he continued, "And you're right, I did overreact. But can you blame me, shitty nerd? I send you an invitation for my wedding and you ignore me for weeks. What else am I gonna get from that other than you don't support it?"

Kacchan's voice broke, with his hands at Izuku's waist tightening. "I can't fucking go through with this if you ain't onboard, 'zuku."

He lifted his head, crimson eyes now locked with green ones. Izuku's felt his breath stop, forgetting they were even in the kitchen. It was like they were in a private little bubble with only him and Kacchan.

"You say the word, and I'll... call this off."

And Izuku hates hates how Kacchan's giving him the reins again. He hates how much control the blonde is relinquishing to him. He hates how there's no sign of mocking in the crimson eyes he'd grown to love getting lost in— just openness and vulnerability.

But what Izuku hates more is how he knew what he'll do the moment he heard those words— words that'll probably haunt his dreams for a very long time.

So he grabs hold of the reigns, squeezing and slightly pulling on them. He committed the feeling of them to memory before he lets go. Because he'd instead break his arms all over again, battle the League of Villains and All For One again before he pulls Katsuki away from his future.

Izuku reaches up, softly cupping Kacchan's face, and smiles. "Idiot. Do you think I'll ever not support you? I'm Kacchan's number one fan, remember?"

When he sees the relief that floods into crimson eyes and an ear-splitting smile— not a haughty grin— on the blonde's face, he stubbornly pushes down the ugly feeling of disappointment.

The part of him that burned with the hope of a scenario where Kacchan leaned into his touch and whispered his love back to him was extinguished, leaving Izuku strangely cold.

Pulling away, he starts on brewing another cup of tea and coffee, grinning at Kacchan, "So, who proposed?"

Izuku keeps smiling throughout Kacchan's story, laughing at a joke, retorting a remark here and there. Even as he sees the blonde out (who Mirko had called to chew out for running late), he keeps the smile on his face.

It's only later, after cleaning up the cups in the kitchen and gathering the liquor bottles into a trash bag does he finally bring out his phone to call.

It ringed a couple of times before Izuku heard a 'click' on the other end.

"Izuku-kun?"

Like a puppet's string being cut, Ochako's voice made him sink to the floor, suddenly feeling the strain in his face. He brought his knees to his chest and cradled the phone close like it was the one about to break and not him. His vision blurred as tears filled his eyes, a sob already spilling from his lips.

"Ochako, I– I let him go."

***

Izuku's first time meeting her was purely accidental. Not that he could call the meeting actually 'meeting' her.

He had just finished an interview with the police on a villain he subdued and arrested when a news report playing at a nearby store caught his eye.

He didn't care about the clip showing flashy battle scenes nor the news reporter themself. All he saw was the caption in bold, flashing and blinding Izuku.

Pro-Hero Dynamight injured after villain subjugation. As of now, police and hospitals have no updates.

With rushed apologies spilling from his lips, Izuku ran, the green lightning of One For All enveloping his body. From rooftop to rooftop, he jumped, everything else seeming like a blur and hearing nothing else but the rapid thump of his heart.

In their line of work, it wasn't unusual to come out with injuries. Heck, Izuku's body might as well be a model for scars with how new ones seemed to pop up after every battle and mission.

It was quite concerning, actually, what with the frequency that he got injured. Whenever his friends would bring it up, he'd just shrug as if getting injured was more typical for him than to not be.

But Kacchan was different.

Even during their UA days, he was one of the rare ones (or maybe Izuku was the weird one) who'd managed to reach graduation without a severe injury.

Except for the one that you caused, the dark voice in his mind whispered. And no, Izuku had no time to allow himself to go down that dark hole where images of scars that littered Kacchan's torso waited for him.

Because right now, Kacchan was injured, and that never happened to Pro-Hero Dynamight. The blonde was the type to take care of his body— even keeping to his strict sleeping schedules and diets. More so, when it came to his job as a hero.

Who's gonna beat those crappy villains if I'm battered blue like you, shitty Deku?

When Kacchan had sworn the greennette that he'd reach the top without getting a single injury, Izuku had believed him. And in the years they've worked in the industry, he had kept that promise.

Until now.

So when he dropped on the roof of Kacchan's apartment, he rushed down because he knew that the blonde's pride wouldn't allow him to get treated at hospitals (and how badly Izuku wanted to punch him for that).

Seeing the door open, Izuku's heart stuttered, and his thoughts ran rampant as he ran inside. Oh god, oh god, what will he do once he gets inside? He knew nothing about first aid because it was always Kacchan who handled his injuries, and what would he do without him—

"Ow! That hurts, motherfucker!"

Of all the scenarios Izuku had thought up when he ran in, none of them even came close to what he bore witness to.

They were both sitting on the floor, with Kacchan leaning against the back of the sofa. He was favoring his right side, body flinching as the person– a woman with cropped brown hair in casual wear– plucked out a large green-colored stinger and dropping it in a nearby pail.

"It wouldn't hurt if you just went to the hospital, Katsuki," She huffed, plucking another stinger out and swiftly dabbing antiseptic on the exposed wounds. "Now stop being a little bitch and stay still, darling."

She smiled humorlessly, plucking another one out. Kacchan yelped, throwing a glare at the brunette who shot a glare back. She continued plucking and dabbing until his whole left side was wrapped in gauze and bandages.

"Fucking finally."

"Aw, you're welcome, sweetie," She returned a little too sweetly, patting the gauze with more force than necessary. Kacchan winced, levelling another glare at her, a comeback ready at his lips.

But he seemed to see something in her expression, making Kacchan quiet down and reach over to squeeze her trembling hand.

Izuku hadn't noticed earlier, but her body had been tense the whole time while tending to Kacchan, as if it took every effort to not tremble and succumb to worry and fear.

He knew the feeling because he's been living with those feelings since meeting Kacchan. When the latter was kidnapped, cornered by All For One... when Shigaraki had torn holes through him.

Izuku cried and trembled, yes, but he forced himself to go on. Because he was afraid that if he didn't, he'd collapse in on himself.

So seeing the woman's worries had him empathize with her. But the hand that held hers left him rearing with a feeling he hated because it was wrong for such burning jealousy to burn within him.

And like all the other times he'd feel it, he smothered it— stomped on it until all he felt was cold.

Looking at Kacchan's soft and worried expression as he held her hand, Izuku felt cold.

Looking at this scene made him feel empty and cold, and he didn't want to— couldn't bear to look anymore.

He quietly retreated, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His mind was blank and his body on autopilot as he walked back home, numb to the soreness in his legs and the tiredness of his body.

Once in bed, he couldn't sleep. Because when he closed his eyes, the scene of the two continued to flash in his mind.

It was like a broken movie replaying in his head— Kacchan's soft expression, his hand holding hers, 'Katsuki' falling from her lips.

When sleep finally claimed him, albeit reluctantly, he couldn't help but imagine it was his hand that Kacchan held instead.

***

The second time Izuku met her was at one of Class 1-A's yearly get-togethers. This year was Izuku's turn to host, surrendering his apartment to get trashed entirely for the night.

Speakers lining the walls blasted Jirou's songs throughout the apartment, with the lights strung across the living room flashing along with the beat. If it weren't for the fact that Izuku lived in the penthouse suite, pro-Hero Symbol of Hope or not, he was pretty sure his neighbors would've filed a noise complaint already.

Still, he loved their get-togethers. Even though their group chats were constantly active with memes, video calls, and just random ramblings, it was still better to see his friends in person.

At first, their get-togethers were a bit jilted and spontaneous, with only some being able to attend. Most of the time, others couldn't make it since they were swamped with the workload that rookie Pros were always dumped with.

After missing one get-together, Izuku had felt so guilty (even though the others had reassured him that it was fine) that he never missed another one after that.

Armed with a couple of drinks in hand, he went around the room, catching up on his friends' stories and work.

Koji had finished his 1-year contract with the WWF, Jiro was working on her next album, and Hagakure had just finished a month-long stealth mission.

Izuku had been in the middle of debating with Iida on the legalities of regulating flying quirks when the door banged open.

Typically, no one would even flinch, already expecting no one other than an explosive blonde to be on the other side. Even Izuku would normally barely bat an eye since he'd already installed shock absorbers by the doorframe a long time ago.

What they didn't expect was Kacchan entering, a scowl on his face, and his hand clearly occupied by another, petite one.

The music faded into the background as everyone stared slack-jawed at the sight of Bakugou Katsuki holding hands with someone. Most of them were hammered at that point, some rubbing their eyes and pinching their arms to see if someone had mixed something in the food.

"What are you looking at you fuckers?! You got a problem with my girlfriend or something, ha? I'll explode your extra faces!"

A pause. Then pandemonium exploded as most of the class crowded over Kacchan and the woman, voices and questions overlapping one another.

Izuku was frozen in shock, his eyes stuck onto their intertwined hands. A hand on his shoulder shook him out of his stupor.

"Izu."

He turned and met blue and brown eyes. Even with the blank expression on Shoto's face, Izuku didn't miss the concern laced in his voice.

Already knowing the reason for it, he squeezed the hand on his shoulder and put on a smile to reassure the latter.

"I'm... It's fine, Shoto."

Shoto, obviously sensing the lie, opened his mouth to say something. But blood was rushing through his ears, and all he wanted was to get away get away go go safe.

"Honestly, Shoto! It's fine! Anyway, um, you should get over there too! I'll just... I'm going to restock on snacks." He forced a smile, already slipping away to the kitchen before Shoto could stop him.

Upon reaching the divider, Izuku let out a shaky breath, leaning against the kitchen table. He focused on breathing because somehow he forgot how, which was silly because how could he forget how to breathe and— in and out, in and out, breathe Izuku.

His swirling vision eventually cleared as he focused on a dirty spot on the table, his hands clutching at the table's edges. He was so focused on remembering the motions of breathing that his instincts went into override when a hand landed on his back.

Izuku acted on instinct, turning and grabbing it in less than a second, ready to slam it hard on the table—

Until he realized whose hand he was about to break.

Of all the things he could've done when meeting the love of his life's girlfriend, almost breaking her arm was definitely not on the list.

(Of course, a dark voice in his mind would protest, but he quickly shut that up)

Izuku let go as if the hand burned him, backing away and stuttering apologies, with embarrassment and shame flushing through him.

"It's fine, it's fine! It was partially my fault, anyways. I should've known better than approach a hero from behind." She smiled, though winced,  rubbing at her wrists.

Judging by the grip he'd had earlier, Izuku knows it'll bruise in the morning and winces.

"Still, I'm so sorry! I should've paid more attention to my surroundings! I can't believe I almost hurt a civilian. Please! Let me cover your medical expenses!" He bowed deeply repeatedly, his mind going into overdrive at imaginary headlines.

Symbol of Hope, a hand-breaker? Pro-Hero Deku breaks Dynamight's girlfriend's arm!

The woman laughed, breaking him away from his train wreck of thoughts. Izuku looked up at her in confusion, obviously not expecting that reaction.

"Ah, I'm sorry! It's just," She chuckled again, mirth dancing in her eyes. "Katsuki wasn't kidding when he said you do go on."

She smiled, holding out her hand. "That really wasn't how I expected to meet you, but let's start over? I'm Takashima Fujiko, but you can call me Fujiko if you'd like. Nice to meet you, Deku-san. Katsuki's told me so much about you."

Ah. Katsuki. Kacchan. It took almost everything he had not to flinch or let his eyes twitch whenever she said his name.

There was a petty voice in his head that almost convinced him to not shake her hand, to swat it away and snarl at her until she went running with her tail between her legs.

Almost.

But Izuku could see the nervousness emanating from her, how her whole body was tense and jittery at the same time. She was nervous and worried. Which Izuku couldn't fault her since she was in a strange place and surrounded by people she didn't know.

So he grabbed onto that feeling of empathy and shook her hand.

"Nice to meet you too, Takashima-san. Knowing Kacchan, I'm guessing you've not heard much good things about me then."

"Well, it's more on the lines of 'being worried to the point that he'll scream at you to take care of yourself', I guess?" Fujiko teased.

Izuku laughed at that, his mood lightening up as the brunette carried on the conversation through the night.

As they talked, he learned more about this person— this woman who had stolen Kacchan's heart. And he was starting to see why.

Takashima Fujiko was an instructor at a small-time dojo for children, helping them control their quirks in a safe environment and channel their anger and frustrations into martial arts. Even though people thought her quirk— being able to see the internal nerve wirings of people— was better suited to the medical field, Izuku couldn't help but be in awe of her conviction and determination to help kids.

He couldn't help but see how similar she was with Kacchan. The fire in her eyes and the strength she omitted as she talked about her work at the dojo. The proud look on her face when she boasted about some of her students' accomplishments.

As they talked, Izuku hated how a small part of him was itching to find something to hate about Fujiko. And he hated that part more when he could find nothing.

He could not see fault with a clearly strong-spirited and passionate woman full of conviction in her life. Izuku couldn't deny how she managed to pull him in as they talked. Nor could he deny how he saw and heard the love in her voice when she mentioned Kacchan.

Because that was precisely how he looked whenever he talked about his best friend; his partner.

***

He was out buying groceries when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Turning around, expecting a fan asking for an autograph, Izuku was surprised when he was engulfed in a hug.

"Deku-san! You're here!"

Spluttering, he waved his arms around, not entirely sure what to do. As his mind went into override at the possible options, Fujiko pulled away, grinning from ear to ear.

"I'm glad I bumped into you! I've been dying to meet up with you, but you always seem to be stuck at work when I call or visit!" She pouted.

Izuku laughed nervously, rubbing at his arms. It wasn't like he had been actively avoiding her. It was just— just bad timing, yes.

Totally coincidental that whenever he'd see her name on the receiver, his battery would die, or he'd be called in for an emergency meeting. Or that his patrol routes just happened to be completely rearranged, making the likelihood of them meeting close to zero.

Yup, just bad timing.

"Yeah, you know how work as a hero is, Takashima-san," Izuku chuckled nervously, offering a sheepish smile at the brunette. After all, you are marrying one, a voice in his mind remarked.

Fujiko sighed exasperatedly, obviously knowing the crazy hours heroes took on. But she immediately piped up, grabbing onto his hands with her face bright.

"Well, now you're here! I can finally give you, uh, wait a second," She rummaged through her bag, fishing out an envelope. "Ah, here it is! Here you go!"

Fujiko handed him the envelope, basically buzzing with energy from head to toe. Izuku simply blinked and accepted it, not exactly sure what was going on.

Seeing the confused expression on his face, she smiled, a hint of a blush spread across her cheeks.

"It's the invitation to the engagement party! Well, actually it's more of a rehearsal dinner, but Katsuki will never go if I call it that." She chuckled, absently fidgeting with her necklace.

Still shocked by another invitation in his hands, his eyes unwillingly followed Fujiko's hands, landing on the diamond ring that hung on her chest.

Oh. Oh.

He felt his heart squeeze and his throat constrict, with every breath getting harder to get in and out. Was it just him, or was everything darkening? He didn't know. All Izuku knew was that he wanted to go very, very far away from here. He was tempted to run, to throw an excuse into the air and flee.

But the suddenly heavy weight of the envelope in his hands reminded him of the role he had—the position he chose to have. Above being a person, he was a friend and a hero.

And heroes do not flee.

So he breathed in and breathed out. Slowly, his darkening vision cleared up. Though his panic lasted less than a second, he was glad Fujiko hadn't noticed.

Clenching the invitation (and it wasn't his fault if it was a type of paper that gets easily crumpled), he smiled at her.

"Congratulations, by the way," Izuku said, trying to push some cheer into his voice.

"Oh! Thank you Deku-san," Fujiko responded. "It was– I mean, the proposal was so Katsuki that I couldn't help but say yes."

She laughed, positively glowing with happiness.

And Izuku felt sick because he was a hero. He was supposed to bring hope to people, to reassure them with a smile, to help them up with his hand.

He wasn't supposed to be this vile creature that seethed in jealousy to hide its pain; that ignored the calls of friends and prayed for their misery.

Izuku hated the person he was becoming and a small part of him, a tiny one (but grew each morning he woke with a bottle in his hands), wished to blame it all on Kacchan.

Every time that part spoke up, though, it was immediately squashed. Because it wasn't Kacchan's fault that Izuku had chosen to love him despite knowing it wouldn't be returned.

Loving someone and not being loved back wasn't anyone's fault but the one who chose to love.

"Ah! I should get going now! I have to prepare the dojo for tomorrow," Fujiko said, a sheepish look on her face. "It was nice seeing you Deku-san! I'll see you at the party?"

Suppose there was an entity out there who's taking a tally of all the times he'd hurt himself for others. In that case, Izuku hopes they're taking notes because he'd very much like a better reincarnation after this life.

With a bright smile of his own, he resigned himself to another level of pain. But it's OK because this is what heroes do.

"Of course, Fujiko-san. I'll be there."

Chapter Text

Izuku fidgeted with his tie again, still not used to wearing them even after all those years at UA.

He was this close to tearing it off when someone slapped his hand away.

“Ow! What was that for, Ochako?”

“That’s for messing up the tie I did, Izuku-kun!” She huffed, pulling at his collar to fix it. He choked at the action, shooting her a glare.

She rolled her eyes, giving his tie another tug.

He’s pretty sure that if he met a villain with a quirk that forces victims to wear suits and ties, they might be the one that makes him retire.

Though putting 'I hate ties' on his resignation letter might make his predecessors roll in their graves.

“It’s just– hng–” Izuku choked again when Ochako gave a harsh pull, nesting the knot back into his collar. He scrambled away from her, scarred hands coming up again to tug uncomfortably at the offending piece of clothing.

“I just can’t breathe in these things! I mean, who even declared that wearing this means formal, anyways? Isn’t the suit an invention pushed upon us by Western imperialism–”

“Alright, alright, you can remove the tie,” Ochako interrupted his rambling. She glared at his victorious grin as he pulled the tie off and pocketed it in a blink of an eye.

After years of friendship, the brunette knew better than to let Izuku go off on hours and hours of muttering.

“You still have to wear the blazer, though, Izu. This is still a formal event, no matter how much Bakugou denies it,” Shoto said, stopping him from shrugging it off.

It’s not like Izuku wants to go buck naked or anything. He’s really just more of a t-shirts and sweatpants guy.

Taking in Shoto’s remark, his eyes drifted to the center of the room, zeroing on spiky blonde hair and crimson eyes.

Kacchan was wearing a 3-piece suit, complete with cufflinks, dress shoes, and a tie clip. Though, like always, he looked like he wanted to be literally anywhere else but here.

Here being his engagement party.

Auntie Mitsuki was chatting and laughing boisterously beside him, smacking him repeatedly on the back. Kacchan looked murderous, his patience wearing thin with every smack, ready to all but strangle the woman that birthed him to this world.

Izuku would’ve laughed at how Kacchan it was if it wasn’t for the cold grip in his chest that had settled since he arrived.

An arm looped around the blonde’s, with a hand adorned with a familiar ring.

Kacchan looked away from his mother at the touch, and the transformation made Izuku’s heart ache, the cold grip tightening.

The scowl marring his face eased away, replaced by a gentle, almost fond look that one couldn’t believe Dynamight could make.

Fujiko huffed and pulled him down by his tie, whispering something in his ear. Whatever it was, it made Kacchan snort, a small smile gracing his lips as he whispered something back.

Izuku clenched and unclenched his fists, breath hitching at the sight. Ignoring the knowing looks Ochako and Shoto threw him, he gave a couple of excuses before scurrying away to the washroom.

He swears he could still see the way they were practically– almost wrapped around each other. And honestly, he wasn’t even sure why he was angry because it was justified.

After all, everyone here came knowing what the party was for. Who it was for.

He splashed some water on his face, slapping his cheeks.

Get a grip, Izuku. You signed up for this— no backing out here.

He gripped the sink, grappling the torrent of feelings crashing against his chest and shoving them down down down. Because tonight was not the time nor the place for this.

Tonight was for Kacchan. So no matter how much Izuku wanted to bolt out of there using One For All– to curl up in his bed and maybe devour a tub of ice cream– he had to show support.

Ok, support. No problem. He huffed, looking at his reflection. Just smile, and everything will be fine.

Izuku smiled, grimacing almost immediately after. It looked off, like someone just cut and pasted it.

Ok, no big deal. He was just too tense, that’s all.

Coming out of the washroom, he walked around, rolling his shoulders in a feeble attempt to dispel the tension in his body.

Izuku looked around the room with another sigh, realizing that there were way too many people he didn’t know and that he couldn’t remember where their table was anymore.

Just as he was going to take a page out of Iida’s book and become an emergency exit sign, someone tapped on his shoulder.

“You look like you need a drink.”

Turning, he smiled for the first time that night at the purple-haired man.

“Shinso! It’s been so long!” Izuku engulfed his friend in a hug, the latter returning it with a smile.

“Mhm, work’s been busy.”

“Oh? How’s UA nowadays?”

For a couple years after graduation, Shinso had taken up Eraserhead’s mantle in the underground scene, living up to his title as protegé. When Aizawa had retired, he had taken up the offer to teach at UA to everyone’s surprise.

The purple-haired man groaned, rubbing at his eyes, the dark circles resembling their past teacher's more and more.

“Ugh, don’t bring those brats up now, Izuku. It’s a miracle I even got a day off to go here with how clingy they were.”

As awkward as he was in their early UA years, Izuku knew that Shinso adored kids and they him. The ‘no-bullshit’ attitude he got from Aizawa was also a plus.

“Anyway, I’m more surprised that you of all people are here.”

Izuku tensed, fidgeting uncomfortably under the other’s gaze. “Ah, well, you know, I was just... It’s Kacchan, so...”

“Hmm.”

Shinso didn’t say anything more, but Izuku could see the gears turning in his head, the flash of understanding and pity in his eyes.

Izuku averted his eyes. Of all the things he didn’t like the most was pity. He did enough of that on his own.

Maybe he kind of regretted spilling his feelings for Kacchan at the purple-haired man when the latter confessed to him a few years back.

Yeah, not exactly a graceful moment for him there.

“Well,” Shinso handed him a champagne flute (and where did he get that?), offering him a small smile, “I stand by what I said that you looked like you need a drink, Izuku.”

Swirling the drink, he hesitated. He didn’t really feel like drinking, especially in such close proximity with Kacchan. Who knows what his alcohol brain would fool him into spilling?

Then he remembers the scene from earlier; whispers in ears, diamonds on fingers, soft crimson eyes.

Izuku tightened his grip around the flute, his scarred knuckles turning white, downing it in one go. After drinking it to the last drop, he was surprised to see Shinso offering him another one.

“Don’t worry. The minute you can’t walk or talk straight, I’m sending Uraraka after you.”

He shuddered at the memory of getting floated to his apartment when he drank a bit too much. It was like his insides were in a battle between staying in or out, which did not make the sight of his toilet that night pretty.

Yup, that was definitely something he only wanted to experience once in his life, thank you very much.

Waving goodbye and exchanging promises of meeting up more, Izuku began going around the party.

It was a mix of Fujiko’s family and Kacchan’s friends– though he’ll deny calling them that. While going around, there were some he entertained pictures and autographs with, narrowly avoiding personal questions.

(Especially those that asked when was he getting married, because that toed the line too much of fantasy and reality)

Izuku had just gotten through his fourth, no fifth flute of champagne (he wasn’t sure anymore), when he finally got around to the center of the room.

Starting to feel the hit of alcohol, he stumbled over absolutely nothing. He would’ve fallen flat on his face, but his feet had other plans, changing course, making him fall against someone.

Warm, firm hands immediately grabbed his shoulders, steadying him. Izuku blinked for a few seconds, dizzy with the sudden assault of a familiar smell of cinnamon and smoke. He looked up, giving his savior a dopey smile.

“Kacchan! You’re here!”

“No shit sherlock. This is my party, you know.” The blonde grunted, trying to get Izuku to stand straight (and failing). Izuku’s body felt like lead at this point, wanting nothing more than to rest against the firm body in front of him.

“Well,” he downed the rest of his drink, some spilling on his partially unbuttoned shirt. “It doesn’t seem like it! I think I’ve met more of Takashima-san’s family than you have.”

Kacchan huffed, moving his hands to straighten his collar. “Well, then maybe you should marry her, huh nerd?”

Izuku laughed, throwing his head back. “Nah, that isn’t in the cards for me.”

Looking back at crimson eyes, a flash of– something went through them, coming and going in a blink. He didn’t have time to think about it when the world started spinning again.

Ok, so maybe he should’ve stopped at that third flute.

Katsuki moved to steady him again, this time hiking Izuku's arm around his shoulders, his arm snaking around the greennette's waist. With an exasperated sigh, he began walking towards the hallway, dragging the greennette with him.

“Oi, brat! Where do you think you’re going?” A shrill voice shrieked after him.

“None of your goddamn business, old hag!” Katsuki clicked his tongue, flipping her off from behind, not losing a beat while they walked. Well, while Katsuki walked. Izuku was like a potato sack at this point.

After closing the door behind them, the music that blasted throughout the room turned soft and quiet, with only the beats reverberating through.

Katsuki grunted and dumped Izuku on a nearby sofa, who yelped at the action.

“Why even drink if you’re just gonna end up like this, idiot...” He grumbled, flopping down beside the greennette.

Izuku moaned, clearly uncomfortable with the hardness of the sofa. He shuffled and moved until his head was on a softer (though a bit firm) spot.

Oh? This is nice, he nuzzled into the spot, the warm buzz of alcohol wrapping around his body like a blanket. He didn’t notice it tensing for a moment before relaxing.

It was even better than his bed! He should really talk with the owner here and ask where they bought such a lovely sofa–

“Shitty ‘zuku, you better not be sleeping. I ain’t a fucking pillow.”

“Mm... Of course you’re not, Kacchan. You’re a person,” Izuku mumbled, his muddled brain failing to form connections.

He continued nuzzling into his spot (yes, it’s now his spot, and he’ll fight anyone, even All Might, over it).

He heard a sigh above(?) him, then a hand ran through his hair, and oh, that feels so much better. Izuku sighed contentedly, his body going lax, eyes fluttering close.

He felt safe with the combined warmth, security, and familiar scent of cinnamon and smoke cocooning him like a blanket.

There was silence for a while in their little bubble– Izuku resting on Katsuki’s lap, with the blonde running careful hands through green locks.

Katsuki had a pensive look on his face as he looked down at Izuku. His crimson eyes scoured through every detail, mapping freckles into constellations– stars that would guide the lost home. He tucked in some stray green curls, his fingers lingering, ghosting over Izuku’s cheeks.

Well, shit, he’s asleep, Katsuki swore, seeing the greennette’s chest rise and fall, soft puffs coming out of his mouth.

He continued staring for a while, his hands never stopping the ministrations.

“‘Zuku, I... I’m at a loss here,” Katsuki murmured, doubt coloring his voice. “I don’t– I don’t fucking know if I’m doing the right thing. Maybe it’s what those idiots call wedding jitters or some shit, but I’m... I don’t know anymore.”

His voice cracked at the end. He looked away, with his hand in Izuku’s hair clenching slightly.

Katsuki didn’t really expect a response from the sleeping greennette, though that didn’t stop a part of him wishing for some reassurance. For green eyes and soft smiles to tell him that everything’s going to be ok and calm him the fuck down–

“You do, Kacchan.”

The blonde snapped his head down, crimson locking with green. He felt his face heating up, realizing that Izuku wasn’t asleep at all. He was all but ready to snap, his defenses rising–

Then a rough hand held his, crimson eyes shifted to focus on the scar-filled hand that has gone through so much yet continues to give and give and give.

“I’ve never been in this kind of position, so I can’t say much but,” Izuku paused, biting his lip, “I know you, Kacchan. You aren’t the type to go into things without thinking them over. And when you decide on something, you stick by it because you believe it.”

Izuku knows, then, as he watches crimson red eyes fill back with its fire and spirit that he’s lost.

Honestly, he should’ve known when he saw the photo back then. He should’ve known when he saw how Kacchan and Fujiko looked at each other. He should’ve known when he got the wedding invitation.

But it’s human nature to hope.

So he continued to entertain that little part of him that played out fantasies when he slept. Fantasies where Kacchan would come barging in the room and sweep him off his feet with declarations of love. Fantasies, where, he would stand at the wedding and Kacchan, would choose him.

It was foolish, idiotic, and naive. Maybe that’s where “fools in love” came from.

When Kacchan admitted his doubts and uncertainties to a 'sleeping' Izuku, he felt hope immediately followed by dread.

Because while he felt that part of him– the one that played out fantasies– jump in joy, Izuku felt dread right after.

For who was he to feel happy in the chance of breaking up two people obviously happy, in love, and perfect for each other?

No, no, Izuku wasn’t that kind of person. He may feel jealous and somewhat spiteful (at who or what exactly, he isn't sure). Still, he wasn’t the type to rejoice in other people’s misery.

So he steeled his resolve, shutting down the little voices in his head that taunted at him to tell him tell him don’t you want him for yourself?

I do, he says. But not like this. Never like this.

Izuku smiles at Kacchan, squeezing his hand. “The fact that you chose to marry her means you believe, truly believe, that she’s right.”

He knows Kacchan still feels tendrils of doubt ensnaring his mind, so he adds, “And I know you hate not being sure of things. But that’s fine Kacchan. Like you said, it’s wedding jitters. Everyone gets it.”

“Well, I’m not like everyone, nerd.”

“Of course not. You kinda need more help in that department.”

Izuku laughs, scooting back to the other side of the couch to avoid the hit.

“Ass,” Kacchan scowls at him but looks away, avoiding his eyes and a tinge of red on the tip of his ears.

“But thanks or whatever. Not that I needed advice, especially coming from you.”

“Aw, it’s alright Kacchan. No need to feel embarrassed,” Izuku teases, jumping from the sofa when the blonde lunges at him.

Feeling the hit of alcohol ebbing away, Izuku smooths away the wrinkles from his blazer.

“We really should get back, though. I mean, it is still your engagement party Kacchan so it’s kinda rude if–“ His muttering cuts off when his phone buzzes.

Looking at the caller’s name flashing on the screen, Izuku fumbles with it. He shoots an apologetic glance at the blonde, “Ah, can I–“

Kacchan huffed, standing up and heading to the door. “I’m not the boss of you, idiot. Do whatever you want.”

When the door closed shut, muffling the music and chattering once again, Izuku pressed to answer.

“Midoriya, my boy! I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything?”

“Ah, no, it’s fine Yagi-san. What is it?” Izuku hesitated, “Is it about...”

“Ah,” All Might caught on what the greennette was trying to say. “Yes, actually. It’s about the transfer recommendation you asked of me.”

Izuku held his breath, conflicted feelings flooding his chest. He wasn’t sure what answer he’s hoping for.

“It got approved, my boy.”

Oh.

Well, that was... quick.

The line was quiet, then All Might’s voice turned soft. “Do you still want to go through with it? It’s a big decision, moving overseas.”

He paused, a cautious tone to his voice. “And the motivation for it needs to be considered carefully, my boy.”

At this, Izuku clenched his phone, visibly flinching. He knew, when he brought it up to All Might, he wouldn’t be able to hide his true reason.

Officially, Izuku wanted to follow in his mentor’s footsteps– expanding his hero work abroad. Though he wouldn’t limit himself to the US, open to working in different parts of the world.

Anywhere except here, a voice in his mind whispered.

Unofficially, well. He might be capable of getting through the love of his life’s wedding, but he thinks he’d break if he sees them in married bliss.

He wasn’t that much of a saint.

With resolved crimson eyes, soft looks, and full smiles in his mind, Izuku made his choice.

“Yes, Yagi-san, I’m sure. Can you tell me more about the transfer details?”

All Might sighed, “All right, Midoriya, my boy. If that’s what you want.”

It isn’t what we wanted but what he needed.

As All Might began relaying the details and Izuku listened, the greennette failed to notice that the venue’s door was slightly opened.

***

The bell rung as the door of the restaurant swung open. Someone wearing a cap and face mask entered, looking haggard, and headed for the receptionist.

She looked up from the clipboard on the desk when the person approached.

“Yes? Do you have a reservation?”

He looked around, making sure no one was looking in their direction, before pulling down his mask.

Izuku smiled at the receptionist, “Yeah, under Todoroki Shouto. I think they’ve been waiting for me.”

She gasped at seeing the Number 1 hero in the flesh. She was tempted to ask for an autograph but remembered her job, covering her initial surprise with professionalism.

“Of course, Deku-san. If you’ll follow me.”

Izuku thanked her and followed, pushing his mask back up as they passed through the corridor of private rooms. Some leaving customers glanced at him but evidently passed on with no recognition.

He sighed in relief. His public following as Pro-Hero Deku spiked when the rankings last week came out with him on the top, the second time in his career.

And he did appreciate their enthusiasm and support, he did. But he wanted to be left alone when he was off-duty as just Midoriya Izuku.

They stopped in front of a door tucked into the obscure part of the restaurant, ‘VIP’ listed on it. The receptionist gestured at it.

“Here’s the room reserved by Shoto-san, I hope it’s to your liking. And,” She fidgeted, bringing out a small notepad and pen, “um, if it isn’t inconvenient, may I have an autograph? My son’s a really big fan of you, Deku-san.”

Izuku smiled and conceded. One more autograph wouldn’t hurt him.

When she closed the door, he sighed and got immediately engulfed in a hug.

“Wow! You’re a celebrity now, Izuku-kun!” Ochako teased, laughing when the greennette moaned, embarrassed.

“Technically,” Tenya cut in, placing a hand on Izuku’s shoulder, “We’re all celebrities as public exposure and scrutiny is included in our line of work as heroes.”

He looked down at Izuku then, his voice taking on a teasing tone, “Though, in this case, yes you are hot topic now, Mr. No.1-Hero-Again.”

“Ugh, not you too, Tenya,” Izuku covered his face with his hands, his face heating up.

He sat down at their table, which was already filled with food. He was surprised to see a bowl of katsudon ready and warm for him.

“I warmed it up for you. I know it’s your favorite and Mirio informed me that you’ll be late.” Shoto explained, seeing his confused expression.

“Oh, thanks, Shoto!” Izuku beamed, the latter nodding and going back to his soba.

A year back, it had been his best friend’s year, with the red-and-white-haired hero dominating as Top 1 for every quarter of tallying.

Looking back, Izuku chuckled at how Kacchan would come barging in his apartment, complaining and whining as they ate in front of the TV.

“Midoriya-kun, you’re not going crazy are you?”

“Yeah, Izuku-kun? You’ve been laughing while eating your katsudon, and I didn’t even think that was possible without choking.”

“He’s obviously thinking about a certain explosive blonde, Uraraka.”

Izuku choked on a mouthful of rice, a hand patting his back. Reaching for a glass of water, he sputtered, a flush going over his face.

“Wha– I wasn’t– I was just thinking how good their katsuk– katsudon is! I really should ask them how they managed to make it so close to mom’s and I really should send the chef compliments–“

He cuts himself off, face heating up at the knowing looks they sent him. He huffs, shoving another mouthful in, ignoring Ochako’s giggles and Iida’s knowing glint.

“Oh, by the way! Tsu-chan says sorry she can’t make it tonight. She’s camping out on one of the wedding dress sales with Fujiko and the others.”

Izuku freezes at the mention of the brunette. It lasts for a second, but the other three notice, realization looming on Ochako’s face.

“Ah... Izuku-kun, I’m sorry, I didn’t...” She trails off, nervously looking at Tenya and Shoto for help when the greennette just continued eating.

A tense silence settled upon the room, with only the clinking of Izuku’s chopsticks against the bowl heard.

After clearing his bowl, Izuku sighed and looked up. He wasn’t sure what his face showed, but it was something for Shoto to set a comforting hand on his shoulder.

His mouth trembled, the wave of emotions crashing against the wall he’d built up months– no, years ago.

While he had been swamped for the whole week after the announcement of the new quarterly rankings, he was aware of the date that loomed over him, like the Grim Reaper waiting to get his soul.

For with every article journalists wrote, summarizing his achievements and capture rates, Izuku was not blind at the articles that followed. Articles with too many exclamation marks, too many bold letters highlighting the date. Articles with stolen pictures of yellow, crimson, brown, and white.

So, in a way, the announcement of hero rankings was a blessing in disguise.

While it did give the media and annoying paparazzi reason to follow him around, it meant that he’d be spending most of his time between them and work.

A god-given distraction, if it was possible.

Still... coming home to his empty apartment, his empty bed, he couldn’t resist reading through the articles with an almost obsession.

Izuku turned to the owner of the hand, green locking with blue and brown eyes. Eyes that seemed to bore into his soul, his heart, freezing and melting the walls he’d put up.

Oh.

Just like that, the wall broke.

He wasn’t exactly sure what happened in the moments after, but he was engulfed in a group hug by his best friends in the entire world when he came to. Their arms surrounded him like they wanted to protect him from every pain the world has got to throw at him.

Somehow his hands ended up clutching the backs of Tenya and Ochako, with Shoto hugging him from behind. His face tucked between their shoulders, tears continuously flowing, leaving wet spots. Izuku opened his mouth, wanting to apologize for the sudden outburst, but only managed to release sobs and whimpers.

He felt so so tired. The weight of everything more evident than ever– of pain that built up over the days, months, and years.

They remained like that for a while until Izuku’s body stopped being wrecked with sobs, whimpers turning into slight sniffles, his tears drying up, leaving tracks down his face.

“I-,” Izuku sniffs, pulling away from his friends, “I’m fine now guys. I’m sorry, ha,” He laughs a little, wiping at the corner of his eyes, “I don’t– I don’t what came over me. Must’ve been the stress of the week.”

“Mido–“ Tenya starts, stopping when Shoto holds a hand up. The red-and-white-haired man moved until he was in front of the greennette.

Shoto kneels down and stares at Izuku with a deadpan expression. To others, he might’ve seemed insensitive, but the greennette knew better after spending so many years as his friend.

Concern, understanding, and slight resignation swam in his blue and brown eyes as he stared into them. Shoto really did seem like he was staring at your soul, freezing and warming at all the same.

“What’s really wrong, Izu?”

Even with the question, Izuku was sure that Shoto already knew but gave him the agency to choose to open up.

And his heart breaks just a little as he looks at his friends’ worried expressions, guilt and shame rolling in waves under his skin. He knew his friends weren’t blind as he’d like to think.

It wasn’t like he actively hid his feelings from them. Just that... he didn’t actively say it either.

Even during UA, they somehow always knew when to give him a berth and when to smother him with hot chocolate and a feel-good movie.

Over the years, Ochako had become his go-to contact when he ends up in a crisis– from the smallest of things like ‘what tie to wear’ to bigger things like ‘I lost a kid today’.

His friendship with Tenya had been rocky at first; both of them particularly stilted at forming friendships. But time had mellowed them both out, with Izuku treating him like an older brother figure.

Shoto, in particular, slotted himself in his life as his best friend, serving as a silent yet a strong pillar of support over the years. When rookie work had become too tiring, when he had lost a civilian for the first time, Izuku knew that the red and white-haired man would always be there.

So seeing them like this– their faces pinched in concern, worry rolling from them in waves, broke his heart.

He treasured his friends just as much as he cherished his family, and damn he owed them this much.

He spills everything.

From his rocky friendship with Kacchan when they were young, the bullying (omitting the quirkless part), their fight at Ground Beta, and his realizations from then.

That he had grown, quite literally, in love with the boy– the man that Bakugou Katsuki had become. That even before he had idolized All Might, Kacchan had been his star, his blazing inspiration to become a hero. For Kacchan was headstrong, determined, strong-willed, and dazzling; everything Izuku wanted to be.

That Izuku knew, when he realized this, that he couldn’t get in Kacchan’s way. The blonde was a star, his star, and revealing his feelings then would’ve risked making that star’s light flicker.

For Deku and Dynamight couldn’t risk putting 1 person over the hundreds, thousands, millions of others they had sworn to protect and save.

“But... Bakugou, he’s...” Ochako trailed off, confusion evident in her voice. She trades a look with Tenya and Shoto, understanding dawning on their faces.

For if Bakugou Katsuki was so hell-bent on becoming a hero, then why was he getting married in a few months? Why was he resigning to place one person above all else when push comes to shove?

At that, Izuku flinched, a familiar feeling that he had locked away, rearing its head.

He knew all too well that he was lying.

Izuku had been lying for years, and that lie had festered like an ugly wound, spreading and spreading until he couldn’t see the end to it.

Because he knew Kacchan like the back of his hand. He, of all people, knew that the blonde was not someone to be easily limited by such things as duty.

When Kacchan wanted something, nothing could stand in his way. Izuku knew that even with this choice– of getting married, of having a family– that his childhood friend wouldn’t let it hinder or stop him in any way.

He had known that since the start of this ugly and long lie.

I was scared. I am scared.

Realizing he was in love with Kacchan was joyous, yes; it was utter bliss. For but a moment, it felt like something clicked and made sense because, oh, it’s always been there waiting for him to realize.

And with bliss came fear. Fear so overwhelming that Izuku choked under the pressure of it, phantom hands squeezing at his throat and crushing his heart.

Because he was so so terrified.

He was afraid of everything that might– that will happen when the words of love roll from his lips. He was scared of what he’ll see in crimson eyes, of what he’ll see on his childhood friend’s face. Izuku was haunted by images of possibilities and certainties.

Of crimson eyes filling with shock, confusion, disgust, pity. Of harsh words hurled at him or awkward words of apology.

What was worse was if they sparkled out of happiness, words of love spoken and returned.

Because then, Izuku would be bound for life. And when the time came that Kacchan’s love for him ran out, he knew he’d be stuck.

For Izuku would always only love Bakugou Katsuki. There was only ever Kacchan after all.

And that fear– of rejection, of pity, of acceptance, gnawed at his very soul, driving him mad.

Driven at the edge, Izuku made a choice. It was cowardly and unbecoming of a hero, but he had to.

He cloaked it all with a carefully crafted lie. A lie that was logical enough, that seemed sufficient to make him not lose that sliver of sanity.

Holding onto that sliver was more manageable over the years after graduation, with both of them occupied with climbing higher and higher. With every year that passed, Izuku breathed a little easier, his grasp a bit stronger as the lie began to feel like the truth.

He should’ve known that no matter how long, the truth always gets out. Honestly, it was a miracle how he managed this long.

(But then again, he would’ve lasted until his dying breath if it wasn’t for the envelope that tipped his world on its axis)

“It’s– I was–” He kept trying to push words out, but his throat didn’t want to cooperate, instinct forcing it clogged up.

Izuku kept trying, clutching his chest at the effort. Because why was it so hard to tell his friends? It should be easy; he trusted them with his life after all.

He closed his dry mouth, gulping before opening it again, prepared to tell them everything but–

Nothing.

He was growing frustrated at himself because why was it so hard to get simple words out? It was just a collection of sounds, after all–

His growing panic was cut short when a cup was shoved in his face.

“Drink.”

Blinking at it, dumbfounded, Izuku grabbed it by command. He opened his mouth to ask why and what but wisely shut it when met with an impassive stare of blue and brown.

Even if it was poison, the greennette knew better than to not follow Shoto’s command.

Though, of course, he takes a subtle sniff of it and sighs in relief when he recognizes the scent of sake.

(What, no, of course, he didn’t think Shoto was trying to murder him, ha)

Still under the uncomfortable stare of the red-and-white-haired man, Izuku takes a sip, glancing back. Shoto stares at him for a moment, then nods, drinking a glass of his own as well.

Like a signal, Ochako and Tenya drank as well, slinking back to their seats. (Though Izuku’s not that blind to see that they’ve shuffled a bit closer to him)

“So... what’s being number 1 like again, Izuku-kun?”

Izuku knows it was an awkward and forced attempt to lift the mood up and sweep his breakdown under the rug, but he grabs it anyway.

He knows the issue’s not done. Far from it, judging from how Shoto keeps shooting him not-so-subtle glances, and how Tenya and Ochako’s ready to jump anytime he bursts into tears again.

But his friends knew he needs the space, that he was't ready. He wasn't prepared to let go of this lie just yet– to allow its comforting presence to go.

Not yet.

***

It was during the graduation party.

Izuku was fidgeting in his seat at the bar, fingers tapping incessantly on the counter. His eyes kept glancing from the row of bottles to the glowing screen of his phone.

He was torn between chucking it out of the window or pouring one of the bottles over it.

He sighed for the umpteenth time that night, scarred fingers still drumming incessantly, his legs not keeping still.

Izuku was supposed to be celebrating.

He had just graduated from one of the sought-after programs in the country! From one of the top schools nonetheless. He should be on the dance floor with the rest of his class, reveling in this accomplishment.

He should, shouldn’t he?

Plus... Izuku glanced again at the screen, which seemed to glow brighter every time he looked as if to mock him. Stark foreign letters attacked him, the temptation to chuck it far far away becoming stronger.

Good day Mr. Izuku Midoriya!

We’ve received news of your graduation from UA. We would like to extend an invitation for an interview as a sidekick in the New York State Agency. We realize it’s a late proposal, compared to other scouts, but you had come highly recommended by All Might. Nevertheless, we hope you would consider it and return to us with a response at your earliest convenience.

Mr. Fujimoto from our agency's HR will be flying in next week to conduct local interviews with our potential employees. You can send us a schedule of when you’re free if you wish to accept the offer.

New York. The East Coast. The USA. All Might.

It was everything Izuku dreamed of. As much as he had carved his own path as a hero in the past years at UA, he still held an admiration for the past Symbol of Peace.

So this offer of being able to take the path his idol once did– to spread his name far and wide along the foreign continent was something short of a dream.

He should be happy, overjoyed even. He should be rushing over to his class, sharing the good news, and celebrating harder.

Izuku stared at the email, every word already memorized. He sighed again, pocketing his phone.

So why wasn’t he?

His eyes passed over his classmates dancing like there was no tomorrow on the makeshift dance floor, no one caring if they were following the beat or not.

Izuku allowed himself a smile when he saw Tenya doing his signature robot dance along with Shoto.

Then, with a play of the light, he spotted him.

A stark tuft of blond hair sticking out from one of the booths by the corner, crimson eyes seemingly glowing from the dark area.

They were surveying the dancing bodies with a mix of distaste and fondness. Then they swiveled, locking onto emerald green.

Izuku’s held his breath, unable to move under the gaze. The music muffled in the background, the rapid movement of lights slowing.

For a moment, it was just red and green.

He didn’t even notice he was already out of his seat, heading towards the blonde, almost hypnotized under the crimson gaze.

Izuku was acting like a sailor trapped under a siren’s song, his mind muted and body succumbing to the sweet allure of hair spun from gold and eyes carved from jewels.

Before he knew it, he was in front of Kacchan, a warm bubbly feeling spreading from his chest.

It was a feeling he was already used to in the past years when it came to his childhood friend (and would most likely be for the next years).

Izuku’s betting on until his dying breath, but who’s asking anyway?

“Hey nerd, you gonna just stand there like a loser or what?” Kacchan clicked his tongue, scooting over to the side of the booth with a huff.

Taking the hint, the greennette scrambled over to the offered seat. Izuku stumbles a bit upon nearing, wobbling, before a hand steadied– ok, more like pulled him down to sit.

A squeak escaped his mouth, feeling his face heat up when he realized his position.

Ohmygod ohmygod he so close to Kacchan! Like, close close that he could shift, and he’d end up straddling him and– ok, Izuku, these are dangerous thoughts to pair with alcohol. Wait, wait, what exactly should he do now? He didn’t even know why he went over, but he couldn’t help it because Kacchan just looked so–

“Ow!” Izuku jolts from the sudden pain in his arm. He rubs the spot Kacchan pinched, pouting at the blonde, “What was that for, Kacchan?”

“One of my many techniques to stop that fucking muttering, that’s what.”

And oh, Izuku hated how much that smug grin sent his alcohol-muddled brain into overdrive of another kind of pain– he smacked himself internally.

It was really not the time to entertain such very-much-not-innocent thoughts about his childhood friend– er, crush? Ha, who was he kidding? As if Kacchan would be something as feeble and childish as a crush.

If Bakugou Katsuki was something as simple as that, then Aizawa was the most energetic person in the world.

On any other day or night, Izuku would have allowed himself to mull over these feelings. He might’ve even joined Ochako and the others of the class to dance it out, but...

Foreign black words on a glowing screen flashed through his mind, bringing back the inner turmoil and waves of anxiety that Kacchan had chased away earlier.

Izuku sighed, scarred fingers drumming against the table again. Lost in deep thought about visas, living expenses, and oh god, what will his mom say, he failed to respond to a blonde who really did not appreciate being ignored.

"Oi, Deku, you little shit."

He froze, slowly turning, his eyes locking with burning crimson eyes.

Oh, crap.

“You come over here, I give you the highest fucking honor of sitting beside me, and you what, ignore me?” Kacchan flashed a grin, teeth showing menacingly. He shifted the hand that had flung across Izuku’s back (and woah, how did he miss that), curling it around the greennette’s neck.

Izuku jumped in his seat when he felt a couple sparks.

“K-Kacchan–”

“You got a couple seconds to spill whatever the fuck you’ve been stressing over all night is before I give you a–,” He felt a couple more sparks, some a bit stronger this time, “nice graduation gift, shitty nerd.”

He knew that Kacchan would never leave a scar on him (well, not purposely anyway) and that he could easily break out of the blonde’s hold, but still.

Years of friendship with Kacchan still sent his instincts of flight to break out.

Bowing his head, Izuku fidgeted with his hands, feeling the weight of his phone in his pocket.

He glanced at Kacchan, who glared back. Sighing, he pulled out his phone.

“I–It’s–,” Izuku muttered, nerves too fired up to form an explanation. “Just... read it.”

He unlocked the device, immediately being met by the email. He squeaked in surprise, fumbling with his phone.

Kacchan reached and plucked it from his shaking hands, muttering a stupid nerd, and you don’t tell me what to do under his breath.

Izuku sat incredibly still. He was mentally (and maybe physically) preparing himself for Kacchan’s reaction.

If he knew the blonde, the response would be– well, it would involve a lot of shouting and sparks and smoke.

For the sake of his neck, he’s praying to any god out there to limit it to shouting.

The next couple seconds was excruciating torture, driving Izuku’s anxiety levels through the roof; they might as well have reached outer space. He didn’t dare look at Kacchan, so he couldn’t analyze his reaction.

He felt it, though.

His breath hitched when he felt the fingers tightening more and more, not noticing a cracking sound beside him.

“Um... Kacchan? What–” He turned (as much as he could) to look at the still silent blonde.

Kacchan’s face was surprisingly blank; the only thing betraying him was how he was boring holes through Izuku’s phone. He continued staring at it for a few more seconds, then closed his eyes.

He inhaled. Then exhaled.

BOOM

Izuku’s mouth dropped, eyes glued on his phone– or what was left of it anyway. It looked worse than when he tried making lasagna, which was saying something considering Yaoyorozu had to make a water hose to put out the fire.

This was– this was a brutal murder.

Mourning for his phone, Izuku wrenched away from Kacchan's hold to face the murderer, who was grinning like he’d done something very satisfying.

“Kacchan! Oh my god, that was my phone! All of my stuff was there! Especially, scouts!” He glared, fuming at the still present grin on Kacchan’s face. “Now, no one will be able to contact me!”

Kacchan’s grin went even wider.

“Yeah, nerd, that’s the plan.”

“What do you–”

“Now they can’t make my fucking partner leave.”

Izuku froze.

What did Kacchan just say?

He opened and closed his mouth, words coming out as gargled sounds. All thoughts of his deceased phone were all but thrown away, his mind zeroing in on Kacchan’s words.

Partner. Partner. Kacchan’s hero partner.

And all feelings of anxiety that had wracked his mind all night vanished. For even though their little booth was enveloped in darkness, Kacchan shined brighter than he had ever had for Izuku.

The bubbly feeling from earlier came back, caressing him like a whisper of the wind. It felt different than butterflies fluttering in his chest. Izuku felt like he was basking in the sun, the breeze tickling his skin.

He looked at Kacchan, who was grumbling under his breath and sweeping the remained pieces of his charred phone under the table. He could see the tip of the blonde’s ears tinged red, an adorable flush coloring his neck.

And Izuku wondered how he even thought of leaving.

“Ok. I’ll stay, Kacchan.”

Chapter Text

Kacchan ran fingers through his hair, and Izuku hummed, eyes fluttering close at the feeling. He nuzzled into Kacchan's warm hands, loving the rare gentleness.

He felt like he was on cloud nine, cocooned in a warm blanket of smoke and cinnamon. It was bliss until the fingers retreated, getting a whine from Izuku.

Kacchan sighed, fingers moving to graze lightly on freckled cheeks. "I gotta go, Izuku. Get some rest."

"Mhm, no," Izuku reached up and threaded his fingers with the blonde's, resting them against his face. "Stay, Kacchan. 'S warm."

The blonde sighed again, squeezing scarred hands for a moment before pulling away gently. "Get some rest, stupid nerd."

Disappointed, Izuku wanted to reach out to that warmth again, but the lull of sleep pulled him back. His eyes fluttered open, green meeting crimson.

In the dark of the room, they looked like glowing jewels, a simmering fire licking through Izuku's soul. Kacchan tucked a stray lock behind his ear, fingers lingering on the greennette's face before pulling away.

"M'kay, bye Kacchan," Green eyes heavy with sleep shut. Izuku snuggled into his pillow, a smile on his face. "Love you."

The tendrils of sleep dragged him under the darkness and silence of sleep, barely catching a croaked out whisper.

"Yeah... me, too."

***

Izuku jolts out of his sleep, blinking unfocused eyes. He reaches out and flicks the screen open, looking at the time left in the flight.

A few more hours. He sighs, flopping back onto the makeshift bed.

That dream again.

Izuku seldom dreamt, sleeping pills already a part of his regimen. It was usual for heroes to carry such prescriptions. After all, they lived day-by-day carrying the lives and deaths of hundreds of people on their shoulders.

So when he dreamt, it was usually when he crashed out of exhaustion or when he gets knocked unconscious.

Which is why this was weird.

Having reoccurring dreams was weird, and Izuku wondered if his day fantasies were getting mixed with his dreams. Or that he got hit with a quirk (which he hopes not, because that was a big security risk).

"Love you."

"Yeah... me, too."

Izuku felt his face heat up, muffling a squeal with his hands.

What the hell was happening to him? He could still feel the heat on his face, only hearing the rapid thumping of his heart.

It was just a dream. Just one of the fantasies that he'd already grappled and locked up in a place so deep even darkness wouldn't reach.

Just a dream.

Crimson eyes glowing in the dark, callused fingers grazing against his cheeks, the smell of cinnamon and smoke.

He slapped his cheeks in a feeble attempt to stop the blush because it was just a stupid dream, Izuku, stop it.

"Mr. Deku? Is everything alright?"

Izuku jolts upright, not noticing the flight attendant coming. Some hero he was, getting distracted by stupid fantasies, of all things.

"I'm fine, thank you," He smiles, a slight accent coloring his English.

The subject may have been drilled into them in UA but Izuku couldn't manage to get rid of his accent, unlike Shoto. In his defense, his best friend had started on it since he could crawl, courtesy of Endeavor.

She returned his smile. "Alright, then, I'll leave you. It'll be a few more hours before we start our descent in Tokyo."

Izuku thanked her, pulling his phone out once she left. With the dream still fresh, sleep was the last thing in his mind.

So he opted to browse through the agency's summary reports over the past month that Mirio had sent before he boarded.

Following All Might's news on his transfer, Izuku had spent several weeks wrapping up loose ends in Musutafu. First, of course, was informing Mirio and his manager, both utterly supportive of his plans. Though he was still subjected to puppy eyes that screamed 'no don't go'.

Then, he dropped by the juvenile center.

Well, he definitely met more resistance than puppy eyes there.

For one, the caretakers and staff bombarded him with whys and how come and pleas to stay. Eventually, after explaining his reasons (not the real ones), they begrudgingly gave him their support.

It was the kids who become this close to making him stay.

It might've been Kacchan who visited more often and spearheaded rehabilitation and fostering programs. However, Izuku still made it a point to drop by every so often.

They were apprehensive of him at first, which was, well, justified since he had been the one who pinned them down and cuffed them. If their positions were switched, he would've been apprehensive too– maybe even borderline hostile.

Over the following months and years, though, they mellowed out, most of them now rushing to him whenever he visited.

Honestly, Izuku thinks they just wanted his mom's cooking.

Still, they had grown on him as well, to the point that he treated them like his own.

And if in taking care of them, he imagined they were his and Kacchan's kids well, no one has to know.

So Izuku broke the news as gently as he could, already steeling his resolve because he just knew that if he didn't, he'd succumb and stay.

And staying was... it just wasn't an option. Not if Izuku wanted to remain sane. Seeing the love of his life in married bliss would– he wasn't sure what would happen, and he didn't want to find out.

So leaving it is.

"B-b-but, why?? Why do you have to go?" Genichi, one of the first ones that had approached him, asked in between sobs. Izuku's heart ached at the sight, knowing that the kid rarely cried.

He sighed, pulling the child in a hug. "I already told you. All Might recommended that I start to go out of Japan– to experience more. And he's right, it's time."

While it wasn't technically a lie, the words tasted like ash in his mouth. Lying to the others had been tolerable at best. Lying to kids he treated as his own made him feel like the creme de la creme of crap.

Genichi continued crying, opening the others' floodgate of tears. Izuku ended up spending the whole afternoon under a pile of crying kids, comforting them with promises of visits and gifts.

While scrolling through the reports, he accidentally swiped, ending up in another app. Trust his luck to make it the one he'd been ignoring.

The messaging app's notification marker was at 50+, probably more, seeing as he had been ignoring it for the whole month during his mission abroad.

Officially, it had been a request placed by the New York State Agency for collaboration with Mirio's agency on a mission. Unofficially, it was a transitionary phase for Izuku.

Even though he informed his mom about the decision, he wanted to stall for as long as possible to tell his friends.

Maybe too long since he ended up on a flight across the sea without telling them.

Throughout the month, he'd find his fingers hovered over the app, debating on whether or not to open it.

Why he hesitated, he wasn't entirely sure. Was he afraid of their possible violent reactions? Or was he worried that they'd be able to talk him out of his decision, dooming him to stay in Japan– to watch along the sidelines as the love of his life found happiness with another?

In the end, Izuku decided to just tell them in person. He owed them that much, at least.

No, he was definitely not scared to the point that he begged Mirio not to tell them he was coming back today.

Images of crimson eyes and blonde hair flashed through his mind.

And no, he was definitely not scared of telling Kacchan that he was leaving on the night of his wedding.

***

The train back was as taxing as the flight had been. As much as Izuku appreciated the miracle of transportation, he could really do without the fatigue and jetlag that came with it.

Some civilians recognized him, shyly asking for autographs and pictures. Even wrought with exhaustion sitting deep in his bones, Izuku smiled and agreed.

He was a hero, after all. He couldn't disappoint them.

Thankfully, there weren't many people when he arrived at the prefectural station around the early hours of the morning. Those that did recognize him looked to share his exhaustion, giving him a berth.

Even the taxi driver had remained silent, turning down the radio's volume for Izuku, which really did wonders for his growing headache.

After giving the man an extra big tip, Izuku lugged his suitcase into the apartment complex. As much as he wanted to revel in the fact that he was finally home, exhaustion overruled his elation.

On the way up, thoughts of his All Might pillow and Dynamight blanket were the only things that prevented him from spending his first night back in the metal box.

(No matter how nice and soothing the feel of metal on his cheeks was)

The elevator dinged, doors opening to the sole hallway to the penthouse.

Izuku might've expected piles of mail on his doorstep, maybe even some flowers and fan-sent packages. He had been gone for a month after all.

What he definitely did not expect was one Bakugou Katsuki sitting in front of his door, ears plugged with earphones and scrolling through his phone.

Izuku blinked. He rubbed his eyes.

Kacchan was still there.

Izuku pinched his arm, feeling a sharp sting.

Okay, definitely not a hallucination. So, maybe, a hologram or projection? Maybe an illusion?

He cautiously approached the blonde in question who hadn't taken notice yet. Digital Kacchan's brows were scrunched together, eyes glaring at his screen.

Izuku hesitated in his approach. Could holograms move? Or maybe, it's on loop? Looking at Hologram Kacchan again, he couldn't help but silently applaud the work. Whoever did this definitely knew how to replicate his glare.

He had a feeling it was Mei and made a mental note to send her a gift sometime.

Izuku stepped closer. Projection Kacchan seemed to notice him then, surprise flashing across his face. He removed his earphones, pocketing his phone.

"Izu–"

Squish.

Both of them froze, with Izuku's finger poking at apparently-Real-Kacchan's cheek.

.

.

"GAH!!"

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

Izuku screamed when obviously-Real-Kacchan almost bit off his finger, scrambling away from what was not an illusion or hologram.

Holy– oh my god, what was Kacchan doing here?! He couldn't believe it's actually him! Well, honestly, Izuku can't believe he even thought that someone could manage to replicate Kacchan's ready-to-kill-you face like now, but he blamed his open mind.

Turns out keeping an open mind at– oh god, two in the morning only leads to terrible decisions that might end up leaving an Izuku-shaped burn mark on the wall.

"K-Kacchan?? What– you're real?!"

"You fucking piece of shit, what the hell did you think?" Kacchan snarled, palm crackling slightly.

Now, usually, Izuku would know that when the blonde's quirk got a bit haywire, the best course of action would be: step back, hands up, and calm him. Just like what someone would do when encountering a rabid dog.

Instead, his jetlagged mind focused on the small package Kacchan held in his other hand. He stepped closer, ignoring the curses hurled his way.

Izuku sniffed. 

Ooh, what was that?

Following the alluring smell, he let his nose lead the way, abandoning his suitcase.

"What the hell– are you a dog, shitty Deku?" Kacchan cursed, stepping back from the greennette who kept getting closer.

"Mmm, Kacchan," Izuku's eyes were laser-focused on the package, "What's that I'm smelling?"

"Your bullshit."

"Kaaachaan," He whined, making a sudden grab for the package. Reading him like a book, the blonde quickly sidestepped, securing the package with his arm.

With Izuku still making grabby motions like a child, they ended up with Kacchan holding him back by his face.

"Ugh, you drooling mutt. Stop already," Kacchan clicked his tongue, "Just open the stupid door already and I'll give it to you, idiot."

Izuku had never moved so fast before. (All Might would be proud)

Scrambling over the piles of mail at his door, he fumbled with the scanner for a bit. After a few curses of stupid technology and keys were better, he finally got the door open.

Izuku grinned, turning to Kacchan. The blond rolled his eyes and moved past him, dragging the forgotten suitcase inside.

"Why are you looking so proud for opening a door, ha? Get your ass in already."

"You know, this is my apartment, Kacchan."

Kacchan scoffed. "Yeah, from the state of it, it obviously is."

Closing the door behind him, Izuku grimaced at the sight that welcomed him. At the rush of things before he left (and the fact that he was ignoring his friends), he forgot to let his mom be keyed in.

Tiptoeing around the papers and some socks left lying on the floor– he'll have you know that he was perfectly tidy when needed– he went straight to the kitchen.

Thankfully, Izuku sighed in relief. At least he remembered to wash the dishes before he left. God, imagine what he would've seen otherwise.

Kacchan was already in there, rummaging through cabinets, the kettle whistling on the stove.

He couldn't help how his heart skipped at how domestic it was– with Kacchan moving around his kitchen as if he owned it. Izuku's traitorous mind came alive then, supplying him images of Kacchan in an apron and nothing els– okay, no.

Pinching his arm, he berated himself. No, Izuku. Bad, bad Izuku. Kacchan's just– actually, why was he here?

"Um, Kacchan?"

The blonde grunted, still rummaging through cabinets, pulling out mugs and bowls.

"Uh.. Why exactly are you here? I mean, as far as I know, I didn't tell anyone I was coming back today..." Izuku scratched the back of his head, "Even I didn't know I was going back today. There were a lot of delays so I was prepared to sleep in the airport– mmph! "

Kacchan shoved a spoonful of tofu in his mouth, shutting him up.

"Wha– Kwacha–"

The blonde shoved the spoon deeper in his mouth, "Don't speak with your mouth full, god, even kids know that."

Izuku pouted– well, as much as he could while chewing the tofu anyway.

Kacchan rolled his eyes and flipped him off. With fluid movements, he unwraps the rest of the package, revealing stacked containers. Popping them open, Izuku drools at the smell of miso that spread in the kitchen.

Aside from the separated tofu, a couple of green onions and seaweed were mixed into the soup. The other container was packed full with steaming rice, several soft-boiled eggs set at the side.

It smelled like home.

Izuku sniffed, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. He turned to Kacchan, eyes shining with tears and lips trembling.

"Kacchan..! You- you didn't have to..!"

"Ugh," The blonde shoved a bowl of rice and soup towards him, "Just eat already, shitty nerd. You look like shit. They been starving you over there or something?"

Izuku laughed, wiping his tears away. Looking at the meal and back at his childhood friend, his traitorous heart skipped a beat again.

And he couldn't even bother telling it off.

"Really, though..." He smiled, sincerity bleeding into his voice. "Thank you, Kacchan. This means a lot."

"Hm, whatever," Kacchan looked away, the tip of his ears burning red.

Taking a bite of rice with the soup, Izuku moaned at the taste. "Wow! This is really good, Kacchan!"

"Well, yeah what else did you expect, ha?"

He smiled behind his bowl, not missing the smugness and pride in Kacchan's voice at being praised. Really, it was sometimes too easy to stroke the blonde's ego that Izuku was suspecting he was letting it get to him.

(Of course, he dismisses the thought that Kacchan's walls go down for him because psh, that's not possible)

Taking a bite of the soft-boiled eggs, he suddenly remembers what he was asking about.

"Ah! Kacchan!" Izuku hits the table, making it shake.

"Fuck– watch the food– what?!"

"You distracted me earlier," He pouted, "How'd you know I was coming back today?"

"I didn't."

Taken aback, Izuku scrunched his nose in confusion. "What? But I thought–"

"I didn't know you were coming back today. I knew you were supposed to come back last night from fucking Mirio. Which, by the way, thanks for the heads-up, 'zuku."

Biting his lip, Izuku looked away from crimson eyes that glared holes through his face. Fidgeting with a loose thread on his shirt, he looked back.

"Ah, well," He mumbled, "Um... I was just...um..."

"Just busy?" Kacchan mocked him, crossing his arms over his chest. "Just didn't have time? Just occupied? Come on, Izuku, what other synonyms you got there?"

"But I was busy–"

"Too busy to even send a quick i'm fine no i'm not dead in a ditch?"

Izuku shut his mouth, not being able to retort to that. Though, the pounding in his head and hours of fatigue from traveling made him snap, anger rearing its head.

"Well, I'm sorry if I didn't want to bother my friend who's too busy with a certain wedding."

As the words left his mouth, Izuku panicked, his head clearing from the angry haze.

Oh crap, he did not mean to sound so bitter. Honestly, Kacchan just brings out this raw part of him, and he doesn't know if he loves or hates it.

(Who is he kidding, he loves anything related to Kacchan, but that's not the point right now, dammit)

Despite the realness of those bitter feelings, still, he regretted the words. He didn't want to make the blonde seem like a crappy friend.

Izuku sighed, "God, I'm sorry, Kacchan, that was–"

"It's fine."

He stopped. Okay, that wasn't right.

Izuku stared, feeling unnerved by Kacchan's blank expression. Well, that was just... not right. He was already bracing for an explosive reaction.

This... this nonchalance was downright weird. Why were so many weird things in his life these days? Unlike his dreams-that-must-not-be-recalled, this was weird, and he was going to address this weirdness before it became weirder.

"Um... what?" Nice, very eloquent Izuku.

Kacchan shrugged, cracking an egg over his bowl of rice, adding some soy sauce.

Picking up a spoon, he mashed the ingredients in his bowl, "I said it's fine. You were busy," Clank, "I was busy," Clank, "We were both busy," Clank.

Izuku winced at the brutal sight. Alright, maybe Kacchan was angry.

Criink.

He looks at the now discarded bent spoon. Okay, he's definitely angry.

Izuku sends a silent prayer to the departed soul of the spoon before bringing his attention back to his childhood friend, whose goal seemed to be 'destroy all of Deku's utensils'.

"Kacchan."

"Deku."

"Kacchan."

"Deku."

He groaned, annoyed at Kacchan's childishness. Crossing his arms over his chest, he levelled a glare at his partner.

"Katsuki." The blonde stiffened, freezing in his mashing. "Look at me, Katsuki."

It wasn't every day that Izuku called Kacchan by his name. He wasn't sure why, even after all these years, but it felt like a line he wasn't supposed to go over. Obviously, Kacchan had no issue calling him by his name, but Izuku hesitates.

Katsuki. The name carried too many implications– meanings too heavy and complicated for Izuku to take.

But, on the rare times that he called the blonde by his name, both knew it was serious.

Knowing that, Kacchan looked to be fighting a battle with himself, losing when he eventually folded and lifted his gaze.

Crimson to emerald.

Izuku's eyes locked onto Kacchan's, searching– looking for something that would explain why his partner was acting this way and–

There.

Among projected annoyance and anger was the barest of hints of unease, insecurity, and... guilt? What was Kacchan guilty about?

Filing that away for later, Izuku latched on to the blonde's insecurity.

Because for all the bravado and ego Kacchan posed as his persona, there lay deep-seated insecurities. Insecurities rooted in swan-dives off rooftops, white-haired villains, burnt notebooks, and press conferences.

These would most likely never go away, even with all the therapy and whispered apologies in the world.

(Believe him, he's tried)

Oh, he's... He thinks I'm pushing him away again.

Green eyes softened, and Izuku reached across the table, cautiously– carefully and gently holding Kacchan's clenched fist.

The blonde stiffened under his touch, Izuku feeling tension running across his skin, the temperature rising and almost crackling under Kacchan's hand.

He squeezed harder, the familiar lightning of One for All dancing from his knuckles to Kacchan's. It was fascinating how the two quirks reacted to each other– two fires fighting, almost putting the other out, then coming together as one.

Izuku shuddered at the feeling but didn't let go. It wasn't the first time he had done this, but he could definitely count on one hand the times he had.

He could see Kacchan's body become wrecked with trembles and shudders. Once, he had asked the blonde what it felt like on his end.

"It was like... like a million fucking zaps going through my body, causing these little goddamn explosions everywhere."

Even though Kacchan reassured him that it wasn't painful, Izuku still felt a bit unnerved at the description.

"Ugh, it's just... it's fine! It calms me down, you stupid nerd."

Kacchan released a shuddering breath and squeezed back. Izuku released a breath he didn't know he was holding.

They spent a while like that– Kacchan's sweaty palm cradled by his scarred and disfigured hand, fingers drawing indiscernible patterns on the back of his hand.

"... I'm sorry, I didn't mean what I said," Izuku started. He looked up from their hands and his eyes locked with crimson.

"I–," He paused, hesitating. What was he supposed to say? The truth?

The thought of telling Kacchan the truth made his throat unbearably tight, the phantom hand of fear and lies warning him. He felt cold and hot pressure tightening around him and–

No, no, he can't tell the truth. Then...

"It was a sudden request and I had to rush." Liar.

"They gave me a lot of work there, filled my schedule." Lies.

"I didn't mean to ignore you– any of you." How many more lies?

"I mean it, Kacchan." And you call yourself a hero?

"I'm the one at fault, okay? Not you." I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

The lies felt like a liquid fire that burned through his very soul. But they did make the pressure on his throat go away, giving him the relief to be able to breathe again.

Izuku couldn't help but wonder when exactly had lying become a comfort for him. When exactly had lies rolled off his tongue without making him feel sick and want to vomit– instead, making him feel relief.

Kacchan remained silent for a while, his eyes still looking at him– through him, searching and digging– for what, Izuku wasn't sure.

It felt like forever, tendrils of anxiety creeping along his spine and spreading through his body. His mind ran a mile per minute, running over everything he said to Kacchan.

"...Hm, whatever nerd. Of course you're the one at fault. That's what I've been saying, shitty 'zuku."

Kacchan scoffed, pulling his hand away and began scarfing down the brutally-murdered snack he made.

Izuku laughed, feeling a bit lighter at the blonde's response. There was this nagging feeling of doubt at the back of his head that nudged him to push it, you're forgetting, something's wrong, but he dismissed it.

He had finally dispelled the tension and he wasn't going to risk it coming back.

Grabbing his bowl of soup, he turned back to Kacchan, smiling. "So, what did I miss?"

With a grin, Kacchan went on about the recent raid he'd pull off, with Izuku eating the rest of the meal.

Izuku felt warm and settled. He wasn't sure if it was just because of coming home, the food, or the solid presence of his partner that he'd missed so so much.

There were a lot of questions left unanswered, a lot of lies left unearthed. One being Kacchan's avoidance to talk about the wedding (which was another weird thing), another was how Kacchan managed to convince Mirio of all people to spill.

And he did– God, he did want answers to those. Izuku itched to grab his partner by the shoulders and shake him until he gets them. (He'll most likely get exploded in his face, but he'll take the risk)

"And then Shitty Hair just– oi, Deku! You ignoring me, ha?"

But, right now... this– this was fine.

The sight of Kacchan's cooking spread across the table, the smell of home-cooked meals, cinnamon and smoke filling his empty kitchen.

Yeah, this was... more than he could ask for.

***

"I'm sorry, Izuku. I am so sorry...!!"

"Izuku has two joints. It means.. He has no quirk of any kind."

.

It was a day like any other in Musutafu, with a clear blue sky littered with only a couple clouds floating by. With it being the height of the summer season, droves of people and families filled Dagoba Beach.

Children ran along the coastline, friends played in the water, with some simply lounging on the sand to enjoy the sun.

It was a perfect day.

For some, anyway.

By the nearby forest, deep beyond the twists and turns of branches and logs, was one Midoriya Izuku. The small boy was huddled under an old wooden bridge over a small stream, his body wracked by sobs.

Clutched between his chest and legs was an All Might figurine. The once mint condition toy now covered in tears and snot, a couple parts dented with how tightly Izuku's small hands held on to it like a lifeline.

On any other day, Izuku would have freaked out, immediately rushing home to try and fix the figure or nagging at his mom to buy him another one.

On any other day, he wouldn't have even brought it out nor have hidden himself in the forest. Instead, he'd be tagging along Kacchan and the other kids as they played in Dagoba Beach.

But the beauty of the day– the clear blue skies, the perfect harmony of heat and wind, the summer vibes went over Izuku's head.

Quirkless. Quirkless. Quirkless.

The word was now like a chant for Izuku, mumbled incoherently in between sobs.

Last night, when his mother held him in his arms, tears and apologies flowing freely, he felt the smile he had kept on break a little.

No, that's not what I want you to say. Stop crying. Stop apologizing.

When sleep came, so did the nightmares. Phantom faceless figures with snarls jeered at Izuku, transforming into his mother's face.

"Quirkless!"

"I am so sorry, Izuku!"

"You can't be a hero."

"Forgive me, Izuku!"

It was the first time Izuku woke up, almost drowned in tears. It was also the first time he was scared to look at his mother without flinching or running for his life. Looking at his mother that morning reminded him of phantom faces and hands dragging him down down–

Which was why he was here instead.

He found the nifty little spot a few weeks ago when he accidentally strayed from Kacchan's group during their excursion in the forest. It was the perfect hiding spot, the wooden bridge serving as shade against the elements, the stream strong enough to deter people from checking under it.

Izuku had come back to it a few times when he wanted to play with some new action figures he got before Kacchan would hoard them.

Kacchan.

Thinking of his friend led on a new batch of tears and sobs, Izuku crushing the now disfigured figurine against his chest.

What was he going to tell Kacchan? They were supposed to be heroes together, and now that's not possible because he's– he's quirkless, useless. The man in the white coat said so, and his mom said so, so it must be true.

No wonder Kacchan called him Deku. Maybe he really is useless. Broken.

Quirkless. Quirkless. Quirkless.

Izuku wasn't sure how long he spent in his hiding spot exactly, but the sun shining brightly before was now sinking, basking the forest in an orange-pink light.

He knew he should probably start heading home again, but the thought of seeing his mother's face rooted his feet in the dirt, refusing to move. It was stupid, really, really stupid for him to be afraid of his own mom, so he willed his stupid legs to move already–

"DEKU! OI I KNOW YOU'RE HERE STUPID!"

Izuku shot his head up in surprise, eyes locking onto familiar blonde hair and red eyes through the gaps in the bridge.

"K-Kacchan?" He voiced out, sniffling and rubbing at his swollen eyes. There was some scuffling sound from above, then Izuku spotted Kacchan pressing close to see through the gap.

"HA?? WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE?" Kacchan shouted, his feet stomping away, not waiting for Izuku's response.

The greennette could hear sounds of grunting and cursing above, and then suddenly, Kacchan was in front of him. The blonde's clothes were a muddied mess, with some leaves stuck in his wild hair.

Even in this state, Kacchan stood tall in front of him, irritation going off off him in waves.

"WELL, STUPID? YOU GONNA TELL ME WHY YOU'RE HIDING HERE LIKE SOME PATHETIC INSECT?"

Izuku flinched at the insult. Usually, it would slide off off him, treating it as friendly banter.

But, today, it just set off another wave of tears and hurt because he is pathetic and he is stupid, and maybe that's why he's quirkless–

"O-oi! Wh- why are you crying?! Agh–"Kacchan moves closer in a panic, sloshing through the muddy parts to get to Izuku.

If the greennette wasn't so busy sobbing and crying, he would've seen how Kacchan's face was pinched in worry, his fists clenched not out of anger but fear and panic.

Izuku kept crying, incoherent gibberish spilling from his mouth. He wanted to stop because Kacchan was right. This was pathetic, but he just can't seem to stop, and it was getting harder to breathe–

Hands cupped his face, lifting it up. Through his tear-filled vision, Izuku saw crimson eyes focused on his.

"Hey, hey! Izuku! Look at me, idiot," Kacchan said softly, and Izuku might be hallucinating because his friend never spoke softly ever.

With the amount of tears he'd expelled throughout the day, he wasn't letting go of the possibility that he went and fainted, and all of this was a dream.

Fingers roughly wiped tears away from his eyes, resulting in a whine from the greennette. Kacchan paused, then continued, but softer and gentler than before. Wiping the greennette's tears away, crimson never leaving green eyes.

If this was a dream, he doesn't want it to end.

Izuku wasn't entirely sure what happened, but the sobs wracking his body stopped. The excruciating pain and hurt in his chest ebbed away, his breath becoming even with soft puffs leaving his lips.

Seeing the tears stop flowing, Kacchan stopped wiping but kept his hold on Izuku's face. They looked at each other for a few seconds, Izuku entranced by the crimson eyes that grounded him.

Of course, Kacchan ruined the moment by squeezing Izuku's cheeks.

"Alright, you crybaby. Tell. Me. What. You're. Doing. Here," The blonde punctuates his words with a squeeze, making Izuku whine.

"Kacchan! Shtop squeezhing my chweeks!"

"Nope," With a grin, he squeezed harder, "Not 'till you answer me, Deku."

Knowing that Kacchan wasn't stopping anytime soon, Izuku turned his gaze away, mumbling.

"Ha? What was that?"

Izuku mumbled under his breath, still avoiding the blonde's gaze. Which, of course, just made Kacchan pissed and resulted in more pinching and squeezing.

Having enough of it, Izuku snapped, green eyes flaring with anger.

"I said I'm quirkless, stupid Kacchan!"

Kacchan froze, his hands motionless on Izuku's face. The greennette swallowed, turning his gaze away.

"Mom brought me to a d-doctor yesterday and he– he took some pictures of my bones and," his throat clogged up, fingers clutching the previously forgotten figurine, "And he told me that I'm– I'm–"

"Quirkless." Kacchan's voice was unnaturally soft when he spoke the word that had delivered blow after blow on Izuku.

But for some reason, the way Kacchan said it didn't feel like what phantom figures wearing his mom's face did when they said it.

Maybe because when Izuku brought his gaze back to his friend, there was no disgust or pity. Just a thoughtful expression on his face. And wow, did that make the pressure on his chest disappear, and he could breathe.

"That why you been hiding here and crying, ha?"

Izuku flushed with shame. He bit his trembling lip, nodding, "It's– It's more than that, Kacchan, I...!"

Fingers clutched the All Might figurine tighter, small knuckles turning white.

"I..." A sob escapes him, "I can't be a hero anymore, Kacchan!"

Izuku wanted to curl up into a ball, but steady hands holding his face stopped him.

Insecurities bred from his nightmares curled around his chest, snaking around his throat. Izuku couldn't breathe, and it hurts, and someone help me–

"Who the hell said that, huh? Who the hell said that you need to have a quirk to be a hero, 'zuku?!"

Oh. Oh.

The choking tendrils retreated; the pressure on his throat was gone, making him breathe again. Izuku gaped at Kacchan, green eyes shining with tears, relief, and admiration.

Kacchan brought his face closer, their foreheads almost touching. Crimson eyes locked with emerald green.

Izuku didn't dare breathe nor blink.

"You can be the best freaking hero if you work for it, shitty Deku! Don't let stupid extras or doctors tell you otherwise," Kacchan declared with a split-eating grin.

His grin and confidence were contagious, Izuku mirroring it with a wobbly smile.

"R-really? I can still be a hero with you, Kacchan? Promise?"

Kacchan huffed, squeezing Izuku's cheeks again.

"Didn't ya hear me the first time, idiot?"

A warm bubbly feeling filled his chest then, Izuku not entirely sure what it was. But it was nice and warm and tickled his heart like when his mom would hug and smile at him.

"Okay! That's a promise, Kacchan!" He linked one of his pinkies with Kacchan's, his wobbly smile turning into a wide one.

The blonde blinked at him for a few moments, then snatched his hands back, spluttering. The tip of his ears was tinged red, a flush working its way from his neck up.

"W-whatever! Let's just go already! Auntie's been worried sick," Kacchan turned to go but stopped when a hand grabbed at his shirt.

"Wait, Kacchan! I–"Izuku mumbled, "My legs won't work..."

"Agh, dammit!" Kacchan ignored Izuku's that's a bad word!, offering his back to the greennette, "Fine, this is better anyway since you walk so slow, stupid."

On the way back, Izuku marvelled at the almost golden hue of the forest– from the leaves to even the rocks had sheens making them seem mystical. Distracted by the colors, he missed what his friend said.

"What was that, Kacchan?" Izuku leaned closer, his face almost tucked into the crook of his friend's neck. Kacchan staggered, spitting out curses, before continuing to walk.

"I said," He grumbled, "That if those extras don't recognize you as a hero, then..."

"Then...?"

Kacchan coughed, red creeping along his neck.

"Then I'll just marry you. So I can protect you and crap, idiot 'zuku."

"Mhm..." Izuku nuzzled against Kacchan's back, feeling exhaustion dragging his body to sleep.

"M'kay, Kacchan. I'll marry you..."

Chapter Text

Kacchan was acting weird.

It’s been a week since he came back, and the only way Izuku could describe it was weird.

He thought the weird things stopped popping up after that first night back, but welp, guess not.

Because Kacchan was acting weird. He knows he already said that, but he really needed to repeat it because the whole thing was making him dizzy with confusion.

The first time Kacchan showed up at his agency was after a particularly tough day. Izuku had to grapple with a villain– no, a kid who was abandoned in a shopping mall and ended up detonating everything around them.

Even with the multiple burns he accrued, he winced more for the kid– god, a child– who ended up shot by quirk tranquilizers even after Izuku got him to calm down.

To say that the whole day wasn’t an ideal situation was an understatement. So he really just wanted to go home and have some tea while watching some All Might classics.

Of course, those plans caught fire and turned to ashes when he saw who was waiting for him in the lobby.

Izuku rubbed his eyes, spreading soot across his face. He blinked and looked again.

Okay, this was so weird and it was giving him a sense of deja vu.

(And maybe he was tempted to try the poking method again, but Izuku valued his fingers too much)

Looking at Kacchan dressed so casually in branded clothes, he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious of himself. Crap, he should’ve at least wiped off the soot from the explosions off his face. Ugh, maybe he should get back up real quick before Kacchan saw him–

“Oi! Izuku! Where the hell are you going, shitty nerd?”

Oops.

With a sheepish smile, he gave the blonde a small wave, doing nothing to calm his nerves as Kacchan stomped over to him until they were inches away from each other.

His breath hitched (because of the soot! Nothing else!), and he thanked all that is above that the soot hid how red he was. Oh god, he was so near Kacchan that the scent of cinnamon and smoke was so tantalizing and making him dizzy–

“Tsk, you idiot,” The blonde swore under his breath and cupped Izuku’s face, “Why didn’t you clean up? Ugh, you really can’t do shit on your own, huh?”

He knows he should probably quip something back because he is a competent adult who can care for himself.

... except his laundry, dishes, health, and check-ups, but psh no one really cares about those, right?

But the words get caught in his throat because ohmygodohmygodkacchanistouchingme. Izuku stayed frozen as Kacchan rubs the soot off his face, albeit roughly but with a softness that makes him almost croon and nuzzle into warm, callused palms.

Almost.

Kacchan looked him over, crimson eyes mapping his face, then nodded, satisfied with his work.

(Haha, what, he definitely didn’t whine when Kacchan drew his hands back, stop lying)

“Uh-um, thanks Kacchan!”

“Hm, whatever,” The blonde huffed, “Well? What are you standing around the fuck for? Go back up and change into something decent, asshole, and let’s go already.”

Izuku tilted his head to the side, still reeling from whatthehelljusthappeneddidkacchantouchme and confused.

“Eh? Did we make plans, Kacchan?”

“Ha? You sayin’ I have to make a fucking appointment just to see your stupid face, Deku?!”

“Ah! That’s not what I meant! I just– I usually never get to see you outside of our monthly hangouts? Not that seeing you now is bad! It’s good! I mean– ahh, I’ll just get changed, Kacchan, bye!”

Izuku knew it was against protocol to use their quirks within the building. Still, he’ll put up with HR’s lectures if it means he could bolt from that embarrassing situation.

Ughhh, why did he always make such a fool of himself when it comes to Kacchan? He’s been a pro-hero for several years now, jeez. He’s supposed to be composed and Todochill.

Still, it was weird. The things he told Kacchan were true; they never really met each other much due to mismatched work schedules, and being on-call 24/7 left them too tired on their day-offs. Their first years as sidekicks led to too many missed calls and misunderstandings that Izuku eventually put his foot down and set a monthly catch-up (not! date!)

Kacchan agreed, and they’ve worked with that system for a couple years.

Until now, apparently.

(Not that Izuku’s protesting against extra time! With Kacchan!)

When they left the agency, Izuku was clad in a simple white shirt with an open button-up and ripped jeans; he couldn’t feel a bit giddy walking and talking with Kacchan.

“–and it was a cool quirk, Kacchan! I was too busy calming them down but I’m thinking the detonation gets triggered by sound waves? Or maybe through touch? I can’t be sure but I’m pretty sure it works on a molecular level, where they could make passive atoms active to the point of– BOOM! Still, I wonder if they could learn to moderate that so that they remain active but not enough to reach the threshold of explosion and...”

Izuku trails off and stops walking.

“Kacchan? Are you okay?” And he had to ask because he had gone on a whole– oh god, 20-minute rant uninterrupted. Which never ever ever happened in Izuku’s life, and he was lowkey freaking out.

(Okay, fine, he was freaking out so much he was wondering if the kid’s quirk from earlier was actually a psychic or illusion quirk)

“What’s with the stupid question? I’m not the one who literally had to talk down an emotionally-strained and traumatized walking bomb of a kid.”

Izuku flushed at the compliment(?). Wow, okay, was today his birthday or something? First, Kacchan walks him home, and now a compliment? All in one day?

He’s definitely dropping by a shrine later.

“Uh, it’s not like I did much anyway, since, you know,” Izuku gestured at his face, “They still went off and had to be, er, taken down by the police.”

He looked away at that, the regret and self-criticism from earlier coming back in full force. There were so many things he did wrong today; so many mistakes, so many missteps, and bad calls.

He should’ve done better in talking the kid down. Maybe if he’d thought it through to call a specialist and put them on speakerphone, they would’ve been successful. Maybe then Izuku wouldn’t have to see a child treated as a villain and shot, falling down down–

Kacchan pulled his hand away from his mouth (what, when had he started biting them), snarling. “Fucking hell, ‘Zuku. Stop acting like a fucking saint all humble and carrying the goddamn world on your shoulders and just... take the compliment.”

“You saved lives today, dipshit. You acted quick and evacuated a densely populated area, and went with the best option you fucking had at the time,” With a deep sigh, Kacchan grinned (and ugh, that made his heart beat too much), “No one died. You did good today, Hero Deku.”

Looking at crimson eyes that gleamed with pride– pride for him–, Izuku couldn’t stop the smile and feeling of love blooming in his chest.

“Y-yeah.. I–I did good.”

***

Izuku thought what happened then was a one-time thing; a fluke. Then Kacchan would get caught up in work again, and they’d go back to their old system. After all, being a roaming hero with Mirko was no joke.

But the next day, he was there again. And the next, and the next.

The blonde scolded him again for his injuries, clothes, even his hair (even though there was nothing wrong with it?), then took him out for lunch.

Sometimes it was breakfast when Izuku took pity on some sidekicks and shouldered the night shift. After those, he’d be so out of it that Kacchan would just end up dragging him to his house (because, your shitty apartment is a filthy bachelor pad that I wouldn't poke with a ten-feet pole).

Izuku liked those times the most, even though his memories were a bit hazy.

Because during then, Kacchan would swaddle him in a blanket, feed him, and just... take care of him. Most of the time, they won’t even be talking. Izuku would be gazing blankly at the morning news, sipping his tea while Kacchan cooked breakfast for them.

Sometimes, it was dinner. Unlike before, where they’d just meet up at a dingy ramen shop or a hole-in-the-wall bar, they’d go to fancy restaurants that had no price tags on the menu.

Usually, at those, they’d spend over 20 minutes just fighting over who would pay. Right now, they’re at a tie, with last night’s dinner covered by Kacchan under the pretense of I saw you wreck that building the other day so i know they’re gonna dock your pay shitty nerd.

After, they’d crash at Kaccchan’s place, both ending up sleeping in front of the TV halfway through a movie or documentary on Mepflix. And the morning after...

Izuku blushed, remembering how they’d end up cuddling, with him on Kacchan’s chest, strong arms around him.

He muffled a scream in his hands, waving off the concern of passersby, who gave strange looks at one of the top heroes of the country who was acting like a middle schooler with a crush.

Which he was not.

Midoriya Izuku was an adult with a crush. Keep that in mind, hmph.

A very hopeless crush, remember? Not that he could forget.

Izuku wasn’t an idiot or oblivious. He saw the circled date on Kacchan’s calendar. He saw the mail that had Takashima as the addressee rather than Bakugou. He saw the small velvet box on the kitchen counter once before Kacchan swiped it and went to his bedroom.

And he didn’t ignore them. Actually, he tried so so many times to initiate conversation. At first, it was subtle probings.

“Oh, have you picked a theme yet?”

When those only got grunts or complete disregard, Izuku braved through more direct ones.

“Kacchan, I haven’t seen Takashima-san much. Is she busy with, uh, the planning?”

Now, those usually led to angry remarks– almost borderline defensive, which made Izuku’s mind whirl with more questions. None of which, apparently, were going to get answered by the man in question.

Izuku sighed deeply, then muffled another frustrated scream in his hands.

At this point, he was pretty sure a video would spread by tomorr– no, maybe even by tonight with the captions of Symbol of Hope Deku, In Crisis? Or perhaps even Pro-Hero Deku freaks out like a lil bitch in public.

Yeah, he’s pretty sure Kacchan would have a good laugh over the second one before he punches the one who took it in the face.

“What the hell are you doing, Izuku?”

Ah, right, another weird thing that apparently won’t be stopping anytime soon: Kacchan calling him by his name.

Not that he’s complaining! It was actually lovely and makes him feel fuzzy and warm. Still, it was so weird, especially after spending decades of his life having only been called ‘Deku’ or ‘shitty nerd’ or other derogatory– er, fond nicknames by Kacchan.

Izuku peeked from behind his hands, eyes meeting with glaring crimson ones. He stood up from his crouching position and sheepishly waved.

“Hi, Kacchan.”

“Hi, Kacchan,” The blonde mimicked mockingly, “Yeah, hi asshole. What the fuck are you doing being all weird? Isn’t it your day-off today?”

“Uh, yeah, kinda? But, well, I’m just doing an errand for Amaji– er, Suneater!”

“Chicken legs? The fuck he made you do?”

Izuku huffed, “Kacchan! Don’t call him that. You know how insecure he gets.”

“Whatever, ‘Zuku. I literally saw him finish a whole crab, shell and all, the other day and walk out like it was nothing. There ain’t an insecure bone in that shitbag.”

“Still!” Izuku sighed, resigned that his partner wouldn’t change his habit of using nicknames. Whatever Kacchan put his mind to, he’d stick to.

It was one of his most endearing and frustrating traits, making him just torn between wanting to punch or kiss Kacchan.

(Obviously, he’d prefer the latter, but that’s only possible in his next life)

He shook himself out of his thoughts (and why he was looking at Kacchan’s lips was a total mystery), just now notice his partner’s attire.

“Oh! Is it your day-off Kacchan?”

The blonde was wearing casual wear, a simple maroon shirt that stretched across his chest with a pair of black jeans. There was a pair of sunglasses propped on his head, hands effortlessly carrying 2 grocery bags that looked ready to explode.

Kacchan raised a brow.

“What the hell are you talking about? I’ve been on a paid leave since this week.”

“Eh?! But you– you never take breaks or vacations! Mirko literally had to trick you into going on a plane to force you to take one last year!”

Kacchan shrugged, and Izuku had to make himself focus because wow, that shirt was really, really tight and stretched ughh–

“–felt like it.”

“Huh?”

This time it was Kacchan who sighed deeply, looking up at the sky and murmuring something that sounded like don’t punch him, don’t punch him. Taking another breath, he looked back at Izuku and threw one of the grocery bags at him.

“What the fucking ever, ‘Zuku. You done here right? Let’s get going already.”

Shifting the bag against his chest, because wow, it really was heavy, Izuku’s head popped up above it.

“Huh? Going? Where?”

“Shimoda.”

“Wh–“

“Just shut your trap and get in the car, fucking nerd. Unless you–“Kacchan coughed, “You got somewhere else to be, ha?”

Izuku opened his mouth, ready to tell him that yes, he had an appointment at the embassy for his foreign passport in about an hour–

“Nope! Let’s go Kacchan!”

He could never really deny those expectant crimson eyes that had a sliver of uncertainty and fear.

Well, he couldn’t deny Kacchan anything, in general.

***

“Woah!”

“Fuck, Izuku get your head back inside, you idiot!”

“No way! The wind feels great!”

“Agh– yeah fuck you too asshole– just, just open the goddamn window then! You ain’t a dog!”

“You’ve called me bitch multiple times, though.”

“...”

“Ow! Okay, okay, Kacchan! There, I’m seated now. Happy?”

Kacchan spared him another glance, his annoyed glare smoothing over into– something?

“Yeah, I am.”

Izuku felt his face heat up, looking back towards the open window that showed the expanses of the sea. God, he was glad the music was on max volume, or else Kacchan would hear the traitorous beat of his heart.

And see the wide smile on his face.

Taking another glance, Izuku’s breath hitched. To anyone else, it seemed ordinary- mundane, even. After all, it was just Kacchan driving.

But when they made a turn and sunlight peeked from the clouds, all he could think was how–

“Beautiful...”

Izuku was so glad he was in his seatbelt, or else he’d be a hole in the windshield after that sharp turn.

“Shit, shit, fuck– Izuku! Shit, you’re okay, right? Son of a bitch–“

Still winded from the sudden happenings, Izuku absentmindedly checked himself. Head, still there. Body, okay. Hands, using them, so they’re probably there. Feet, kinda sore but still there.

“Yup, everything’s still here. I think.”

“You think?! What the fuck does that mean?! God dammit, I’ll pull over right now–“

“Ahh! It’s fine, Kacchan! 100% of Midoriya Izuku is intact and accounted for!”

“Ugh, you shitty nerd. Why are you such a dork, fucking hell,” Kacchan sighed, body still tense. “If I see even an inch of you out of your seat, I’ll fucking throw you out the window, ‘Zuku.”

Izuku wanted to protest because he had stayed in his seat even before that sudden turn, so it really wasn’t his fault. And he wanted to tease Kacchan because the threat turned on itself, so it really didn’t make any sense.

“Got that, nerd?”

“Yup.”

(Shut up, he’s weak, okay)

***

It was the sea.

Izuku laughed, haphazardly throwing his shoes and socks to who knows where and ran to catch the waves.

He’d always loved the sea, loved the feel of the grains of sand tickling the soles of his feet, loved how there were so many things that surprised him with every step. A sand dollar, a cast of crabs that came in multitudes of colors, a seashell that would whisper to him the voices of the deep ocean.

Izuku extended his arms outwards, breathing in the salty air of the sea. He relished in the rush of wind that seemed to greet him like an old friend.

Takoba was closer to home and had more memories than Izuku could remember, but it was a park nonetheless. He couldn’t really truly relax and feel with the wind hindered by tall buildings and complexes.

So on the rare times that his mom would get a raise, Izuku always loved going to the sea.

But boats and cruises were too expensive then, the compromise being beaches instead. Even though it wasn’t wholly the sea, it seemed– still seemed mystical to him as a doorway between the land and the vast world.

"Tsk, of course you’d ditch me for some salty water,” Kacchan grumbles, dumping a basket and cooler, already setting up a mat.

“Aww, don’t worry Kacchan, you’re still at the top of my list.”

“Ha? What shitty list is that?”

Izuku bit his lip, hesitating. Should he say it? But what if by saying it this happy thing they have going ends and he’s left alone again–

A gush of wind came his way, a small wave hitting against his ankles. He felt his mouth turning up into a smile, anxious thoughts flying away with the wind.

“My list of favorite things.” Already feeling a flush working its way up, Izuku turned back towards the sea, a silly grin on his face.

For some reason, he felt a little brave here, with the sea and wind at his back, pushing him past his anxieties, uncertainties, and doubts.

“Well, here’s some news, nerd,” Izuku turned back to Kacchan, the blonde wearing a smug grin. “That ain’t the only list I’m at the top off.”

It took about two full seconds for him to process this, and then–

“Oh my god! Kacchan!” He tackled his partner to the mat, laughing. “Congratulations! Wait, when was this? Why didn’t you tell me? Ohh, how about the others? Was it a close run or a landslide win? How did you–mmph!”

Katsuki grinned, squeezing Izuku’s cheeks like it was mochi.

“Kwacchan! Shtawp!”

“Nope, this is a good look on you, ‘Zuku. Plus it makes your fucking muttering stop, so that’s a bonus right there.”

Izuku pouted, then his lips twisted into a mischievous grin. Slight apprehension bled into crimson eyes that narrowed in suspicion because why did the nerd look like that–

Hands began their assault on his sides, and Izuku, the little shit, was cackling at the sight of him twitching and struggling to rein in his laughter.

“Y-you f-fucker,” Kacchan wheezed in between his laughter, reaching for Izuku to do the same and failing when the greennette went up and ran.

His feet sank into the sand with each step, occasionally stumbling over some seaweed and shells. Still, he didn’t stop because he could hear Kacchan right behind him screaming profanities.

And all Izuku could do was laugh as he ran, with the wind in his hair and waves at his feet.

***

After their little game of chase, they spent the rest of the day doing anything and nothing.

They’d make sandcastles (which really just turned into a competition of who could make the shit), burying each other in the sand, and having an impromptu water fight after Izuku spilled Kacchan’s juice on him.

In between, they’d lie on the mat, side by side, talking about anything– from the recent Hero regulation laws to the shapes of clouds that floated above them.

Izuku wasn’t sure how he ended up sitting on the mat, feet playing in the sand while his hands played with Kacchan’s hair, the blonde looking content with his position.

Well, whatever. He smiled, hands running through another knot. This was nice. He shouldn’t question nice things.

“Kacchan?”

The blonde didn’t respond, all but looking dead to the world with his head on Izuku’s lap.

(Ughh, why didn’t he get his phone from the car? This was a golden opportunity to add something to his special album dedicated to Kacchan)

The sun was still high up, but it was on the lower end than earlier, orange and pink hues exploding across the horizon. The light colored everything– from the sea to the sand.

Izuku stopped breathing as he watched the light reach Kacchan, slowly slowly touching his childhood friend, his partner, his–

“The love of my life...” His whisper threatened to rest on Kacchan before being swept and lost in the wind. His hand moved, fingers ghosting over the blonde’s face.

Izuku felt the itch, the uncontrollable urge to touch, to claim–

A buzz on the mat jolted him out of his thoughts (very, very dangerous thoughts). Torn between being grateful and resentful for the distraction, Izuku reached for Kacchan’s phone, looking at who exactly needed to contact him during his vacation–

“Message from: Takashima Fujiko”

It was like he was doused with cold water, waking him up from a fever dream.

Right, right.

Right.

... right.

Izuku released a shuddering breath, heart squeezing as he gazed upon Kac– Katsuki. Green eyes drank in everything it could, burning every wrinkle, every twitch, and the planes of his face in his mind.

He wanted to remember as much as he could– as he was allowed to. Until he can’t anymore– until days of cooking breakfast, fighting over dinner bills, and cuddling on the sofa was no more. Until he was no longer a train ride away, instead, riding across the seas far, far from home.

Izuku felt a wetness on his cheeks, but he didn’t need to wipe it away. As if sensing his sorrow, the wind went and did it for him, taking away tears that have been shed over and over again.

Green eyes drank Katsuki in, one last time, before looking back to the sea. Eyes gleaming with mirth earlier were now closed, a steely resolution in them.

And the sea cried for him.

***

It was the second semester of their 2nd year when Aizawa sent them off on a beach trip.

Well, the label was a trick to do glorified trash cleanup. There were complaints at first but ultimately ceased at Aizawa’s parting remark.

“The reputation of heroes as fame-seeking money-hungry fools still runs rampant. Lots of people out there, even with the imprisonment of the League of Villains and revolutionary members, still have their distrust. Yes, it’s a trash cleanup, I’m not going to make it sound pretty for you. But, hero work isn’t meant to be pretty. Remember your duty as heroes: to be there for the people in any way you can and in any way they need you to be.”

No one complained after that, each of them knowing the weight of the scars they carried.

Though... it still sucked to draw the short end of the stick, getting assigned to late-night cleanup duty. Compared to day shifts, cleanup duty at night... well, let’s just say Izuku saw things no one should ever see.

The only good thing that came out of it was, well, his partner.

“DIE TRASH! GO TO FUCKING GARBAGE HELL!”

“Kacchan, for the last time, there is no garbage hell.”

“Shut up, Deku! You sayin’ it’s garbage heaven, ha?”

“No, I’m saying there’s no garbage heaven or hell!”

“Wow, trying to push your religious beliefs on me, huh? Didn’t know you were a bigoted bitch, shitty nerd.”

“Wha– You know that’s not what I meant Kacchan!”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, bigot– ow!”

Izuku smirked as he hit his target. Ha, that’s what Kacchan gets for saying he was a–

“Ow, ow!” He rubbed at his arm, an empty beer can roll off beside him. Izuku glared at Kacchan, crimson eyes returning it in fervor.

He didn’t lose eye contact even as he stabbed the can with his litter stick. Kacchan growled, stabbing a water bottle and juice box with his.

Oh, it’s on.

They ended up sprawled on a nearby bench, their trash bags filled to the brim (Izuku was legit concerned it would explode).

“Ha, ha, I–I f–fucking win, shitty, ha, D-Deku,” Kacchan growled in between heaving breaths, not that Izuku fared better.

“N–no, ha, way. I o–obviously, ha, cleaned up more t–than you, ha, K–Kacchan.”

Crimson and green glared at each other. Inwardly, Izuku groaned. This was definitely not how he envisioned the rare alone time with his crush.

(Though, honestly, how else would it have gone, really?)

Izuku held his ground, not breaking contact. A couple beats passed, then Kacchan rolled his eyes, sprawling back on the bench, eyes fluttering close.

“Whatever.”

He rolled his eyes, almost laughing at the pout on Kacchan’s face. Izuku rested back on his arms, facing the vast blackness of the night sky and sea.

A couple of people passed them (obviously partygoers who had too much to drink), sparing them curious looks before deeming them uninteresting. It was better than the glares and whispers (and the occasional spitting on the ground) that they got when they arrived, that's for sure.

But Izuku wasn’t paying attention to them either, green eyes blankly staring at the waves going in and out, in and out, hypnotizing him like a pendulum. The calm sea air lulled his senses, and maybe that’s what loosened his tongue.

“Do you remember middle school?”

He felt the body beside him tense. He didn’t pay it any mind, eyes still following the movement of the waves as they crashed against the shore.

“You know, I kinda cheated tonight,” He chuckled, “I did something similar to this back then. You know, with All Might and One for All.”

Izuku didn’t need to look to know that crimson eyes were boring into him.

“The training was hard– well, obviously it was a crash training so it was hell. And, he just saw Takoba full of trash and thought, ‘ah this would be a good lesson for Young Midoriya.’”

Kacchan snorted. Izuku chuckled, eyes now following a trail of crabs coming out of the sand.

“Still, after all that, it... it didn’t really prepare me for the broken bones and destined archnemesis, you know? It didn’t prepare me for the mantle he was leaving me; the weight of the world. I–"

He swallowed. The crabs were slowly disappearing into the darkness of the waves, gone gone gone.

“I just wanted to be a hero who could smile.”

Izuku blinked, and there were no crabs. Just the waves that lurched and crashed and came back again.

He felt a tap against his leg. Looking down, it was Kacchan’s bumping against his. Izuku’s heart beat faster as he registered the notion of heat that most definitely wasn’t his against him. Oh god, was this a heat stroke? Wait, how could he get a heat stroke if it wasn’t even hot? Oh no, was this a heart attack? What was the protocol for this–

“You were a fucking idiot.”

“Uh... okay?”

“You stupidly, on your own, made a life-changing decision without even telling fucking Auntie about it until after you’ve broken your arms beyond repair. An idiot.”

Oookay, well, it wasn’t like he expected Kacchan to read the mood anyway. Izuku sighed, ready to end another disappointing conversation with his crush–

“I was an idiot too. Fuck, I still am.”

Izuku snapped his head to Kacchan, gaping. The blonde wasn’t looking at him, an arm slung across his eyes.

“I’m an idiot, an asshole, a fucking bully whose pride was shot through the roof that I couldn’t bother looking at the things– the people I crushed beneath me.”

Kacchan did a sharp intake, voice trembling.

“Of course I remember middle school, you shit. Of course I remember how I made your life a living hell for something you couldn’t fucking control. I remember feeling so fucking proud whenever I saw you cowering under me or slinking along the halls. Because out of all the people I crushed, you were my favorite punching bag.”

Under cover of darkness, Izuku would have to be lying if he didn’t see the tears that ran down the side of Kacchan’s face. He’d be lying too if he said he remained unaffected because it was in the past.

Half of him wanted to reach out to Kacchan, to pull him in his arms and whisper reassurances. The other half wanted to scream, to beat against his chest and ask him why why what did I do to deserve being beaten black and blue for a decade?

So he waited. He waited because he didn’t know what to do.

Izuku listened to the crickets of the night, the crashing of waves against the shore, the howls of laughter from passing partygoers. He waited as Kacchan swore under his breath, curses interrupted by sobs and hitching of breath.

When muffled sobs turned into sniffles, Izuku turned back to Kacchan, green eyes looking. Just– looking.

“Kacchan.”

The blonde tensed, arm still hiding him– hiding his weak self from the greennette. Katsuki couldn’t believe himself; crying, snot and all, when it should be the other way around because he didn’t deserve to fucking cry–

Scarred, deformed hands lifted his arm from his face with gentle care, revealing crimson red-rimmed eyes.

And Katsuki looked. Just– looked.

He looked at green eyes that betrayed nothing. Eyes that haunted him at night sometimes, when the taunts of villain villain villain and dry laughs from white-haired freaks crashed into him.

There wasn’t any pity, no. But there wasn’t sympathy either. Just–

Understanding, pain, hurt, determination.

And he remembered the same eyes– the very same– looking at him as he shoved him in the halls, left him bruises that left him black and blue for days.

Katsuki remembered.

And he broke.

There was a flurry of movement, and suddenly he was clutching at Izuku’s chest, face tucked in the other’s chest, broken words flying out of his mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry Izuku. I’m so sorry. Please, please, fucking please.”

Izuku knew he didn’t need to respond. He knew– the logical side of him knew that he had no obligation to accept Kacchan’s apology. He knew he could simply thank him for it, and that would be it.

Maybe if it wasn’t Kacchan who had dealt those blows, those hurtful words that remained like scars on his skin– perhaps, he would do that. Maybe he’d stay bitter, resenting the person that beat him down every single day of his childhood, leaving him blankly staring at the ceiling with tear streaks down the side of his face.

Maybe he would.

But this was Kacchan.

Izuku wrapped his arms tighter around the love of his life, burying his head into blonde locks. He knows he’s getting them wet with the tears that were falling since the beginning.

He doesn’t care. And Katsuki didn’t either.

Right now, all he cared about was that Kacchan was breaking and holding onto Izuku like he’ll fall down down down if he doesn’t.

Like the waves that come and crash against the shore, all of his bitterness, resentment, and hate crash against him, and Izuku feels it filling his lungs, and he’s drowning–

Then, it recedes, flowing out, and Izuku breathes.

“I know, I know, Kacchan. It’s okay, it’s okay,” Izuku sobs, but he couldn’t stop the smile stretching across his face.

“Everything’s okay, Kacchan. We’re going to be okay.”

And he knew they would be.

.

.

.

***

“Oi. Oi, nerd!”

Izuku shot upright in his seat, eyes bleary from sleep. He rubbed his eyes, suppressing a yawn.

“Whu– Kacchan?”

“Fucking finally. I was goddamn ready to kick your ass out, ‘Zuku.”

Izuku yawned, finally taking in his surroundings. Looking through the window, he saw the familiar gates to his building.

“Oh! You shouldn’t have, Kacchan! You could’ve just dropped me off by the agency. I know your house is at the other end of town.”

Kacchan tsked. “What, and leave your sleepy ass to go home on your own? That’s like putting a fucking big-ass glowing neon target for villains, idiot.”

Izuku pouted. “Hey! I can go home on my own just fine!”

“I literally saw you acting a like a zombie slave yesterday at breakfast, idiot,” He whined when Kacchan pinched his nose, “I’m pretty sure you would’ve eaten a fucking rock if I put it in front of you.”

“Well, I’m sorry I’m not a crazy morning person, Kacchan.”

“Crazy?! You little–“

“Oh, look at the time! Gotta go, Kacchan!”

Izuku laughed as he bolted out of the car, getting out of reach. Turning back, he smiled and waved.

“Thanks for today, Kacchan! It was fun! See you tomorrow!”

Kacchan flips him off, and Izuku laughs, waving goodbye as he watched the blonde drive off. Once the car was out of sight, he begins his walk to his building, nodding at the guard.

He probably looked silly, walking with a giddy smile on his face, a skip in his step. Honestly, he didn’t care.

This was the best day ever! He spent a whole day with Kacchan! Even if a villain showed up right now, he doesn’t think that would bring him down from this feeling of walking on clouds.

Thinking over what happened over the week– just a week!– Izuku couldn’t help but mull over his thoughts from earlier.

As much as everything was wonderful– and it truly truly was, he was still sus. There were too many unanswered questions that bugged and nagged at him, and it was driving him crazy.

Izuku bit his lip, pondering. With a defeated sigh, he fumbled for his phone and opened their group chat.

[cinammonroll]: anyone ol?

[urara]: !! Deku!! You’re back??

[princesstiana]: Midochan! Where have you been?

[urara]: heY don’t leave us on reAd grrr!

[cinnamonroll]: uh, I was typing? Er, can I vc?

[princesstiana]: ?

[urara]: video call, darling.

[princesstiana]: oh.. yeah, sure Midochan. It’s been so long!

[urara]: sAme!! Come on, call!

It took about two rings before it got through.

“MIDORIYA IZUKU! HOW DARE YOU!”

Whoops, he should’ve used earphones.

“Ochako! Ssh! I’m outside, right now!” Izuku sheepishly smiled apologetically at the spooked elderly couple he walked past. Walking faster, he brought his attention back to his phone.

Ochako and Tsuyu’s closed-up faces greeted him, almost making him drop the device.

“Midochan! It’s been so long, how are–“

“BITCH, HOW DARE YOU IGNORE US FOR A MONTH!”

“Ochako, darling, let’s lay off him. I’m sure he didn’t mean–“

“NOPE, THERE’S A REASON WE CHANGED THE CHAT NAME, TSU.”

Ah, that explains why the previously named “Protect the cinnamon roll” chat was now “DIE DEKU DIE.”

Izuku withered under Ochako’s glare and Tsuyu’s disappointed look. Offering a sheepish smile, he gave them a wave.

“Uh, nice to see you both too?”

Silence.

“BITCH–“

Tsuyu, bless her, cut in, smiling softly. “It’s been too long-kero. How’ve you been, Midochan?”

“Oh! Um, I’m fine! Work’s been hard since it piled on, but it’s been good!”

Izuku ignored the mocking faces Ochako made, focusing on the reason he called in the first place.

“But, uh, actually, I wanted to ask help on something?”

“Oh, nooow he needs us?”

Tsuyu waved her hand dismissingly. “Ignore her-kero. She’s just bitter you weren’t able to buy from her favorite makeup store.”

Ochako blushed, “Wha– No! That’s not–“

“Oh, the one from Genty Beauty? A coworker of mine actually helped me pick some out for you after I told them that you liked the brand.”

“...”

Izuku’s phone pinged with a notification: urara changed the group name from DIE DEKU DIE to Deku still owes us yakiniku.

“Anyway,” Tsuyu cut in, a grin on her face, “What is it you need help on, Midochan?”

“Ah,” Izuku slowed in his steps, hand scratching the back of his head nervously. “It’s about Kacchan, actually.”

“Huh, Bakugou? Wait, is it–"

“He’s acting so weird!” He blurted out, no longer able to hold back. “Like, the morning I came back, he was there, waiting at the door! And then I find out he was waiting the whole night, like, what?! And now, this whole week, he’s been waiting for me at my agency every day and we go out to lunch, dinner, and he cooks breakfast for me and just today we went to the beach and it was so nice–“

“Deku, Deku, hey, hey!”

“But, I’m– just– so confused?? Because his agency is so far and I find out he’s on vacation? He hates taking leave from work! Just last year, he literally busted a drug operation with snot dripping down his nose! Which is honestly, really just irresponsible and kinda disgusting–"

“MIDORIYA!”

Izuku shut his mouth, stopping in his pacing. Tsuyu smiled at him from the screen.

“Take a breath and calm down-kero.”

“And stop moving around, Izuku-kun,” Ochako quipped, pointing down at his feet. “You’ll leave a hole if you pace anymore, sweetie.”

Looking down, he jumped in shock at seeing a circular indent on the road. Mentally reminding himself to leave an apology and some money for repairs, Izuku began his ascent to the building’s stairs.

Entering, he brought his attention back to his phone.

“Uh, well?”

“Well, what?”

Izuku huffed. “What do you think? Am I just thinking too much about this? He’s just acting weird because of wedding jitters right? I mean, I can’t think of anything else that could explain it.”

He didn’t miss how Ochako and Tsuyu both had confused looks on their faces.

“What? What is it?”

“Uh, Izuku-kun? Haven’t you heard?”

“Huh? Heard what?”

Izuku was more confused now, and Asui probably saw how frustrated he was.

“Midochan, Bakugou’s–“

“Oh. Deku-san.”

He whipped his head to the voice, lowering his phone.

It was someone he hadn’t seen in a long, long time– not since the engagement party. It was someone he had expected to see a few months from now, in a white dress and walking down the aisle.

“...Takashima-san? What are you doing here?”

Chapter Text

Well, this was the most awkward elevator ride he’d ever been on.

It might just top that time he rode the elevator with All Might, Endeavor, and Shoto. Man, that literally took away years of his life.

Who even knew blood could be evaporated and frozen at the same time?

Izuku fidgeted, feet tapping incessantly. Oh god, this was so uncomfortable, and he wanted to just get the hell out of there. Sparing a glance at Fujiko’s reflection on the elevator doors, she seemed to share his sentiment.

They were at opposite ends of the metal box, an impossibly thick invisible line in between them.

Ugh, why didn’t his building have music in elevators like those in malls? He’d kill– okay, maybe not kill– for a distraction in the form of generic songs that get stuck in your head for days.

Damn the consequences! He’d prefer drowning in repetitive tunes than suffocate in this overbearing silence.

Just as Izuku was already making plans on how to punch a big enough hole to escape through an elevator without endangering his partner’s fianceé, the elevator doors opened.

(Thank god because he couldn’t really handle the weight of Fujiko’s life right now)

“U-um, right! We’re here!” He squeaked out, almost immediately smacking himself because wow, way to point out the obvious, idiot.

For some reason, the chiding voice in his head was starting to sound like Kacchan, and that was not good considering he was with a certain fianceé.

You know? The love of his life’s the love of their life? Future wife? Partner ‘till death parts them?

Izuku ignores the twisting feeling in his gut, clenching his teeth. With all the practice of years of hero work, he schools a polite smile on his face and guides her into the apartment.

“Um, please, make yourself at home, Takashima-san,” He shifts on his feet nervously, “D-Do you want some tea?”

“Ah,” Fujiko fidgets, white knuckles tightly clutching at her bag. “No, I... I won’t be staying long. I just–“

She bit her lip, eyes flitting from everywhere but at Izuku, making warning bells ring in his mind. He knows when someone’s afraid of him– knew enough from reading the body of language of victims and rescuees he’d encountered on the field. And he was itching to know why– what warranted this fear.

As far as he was concerned, Izuku had practically (okay, literally) avoided her since the engagement party. And with Fujiko having no reason to contact him personally due to being preoccupied with wedding plans, he didn’t have to pretend to exert effort on his part.

So why was she afraid of him? Or if not fear, then what?

“Takashima-san,” Her eyes snapped to his, the torrent of emotions almost overwhelming him. Almost.

Lowering his voice and shifting his body, he took a small step back, leaving himself open. “Is there something wrong?”

It seemed like a good move, seeing Fujiko’s shoulders relax– just, slightly. She looked to be contemplating something, with her pursed lips and furrowed brows, and Izuku was whirled with how similar the mannerism was to Kacchan.

Ha, well, that’s a perfect match for you. The voice didn’t sound like Kacchan anymore, but the bitter undertones left him missing it.

She shifted– this time more assured and confident; less like she wanted to literally be anywhere but here.

“No, I... I was looking for Katsuki, actually. He wasn’t–“ Something flashed through her eyes, too fast for Izuku to catch. “He wasn’t answering my texts.”

“Oh.”

“And when I got to his apartment, he wasn’t there so I...” She trailed off, uncertainty and was that anger? (must be his imagination) laced in her voice. “So, I went here.”

Because the first place Kacchan would go to if he wasn’t home was obviously here, to Izuku.

The unspoken accusation hung in the air, and all Izuku could do was feel utter shame.

Shame for what, though? He wasn’t ashamed of being one of the people Kacchan trusted the most– heck, that was his goal since he began following him when they were kids. If anything, he should be feeling proud for having such an important place in Kacchan’s life.

So why was he still feeling shame? As if he was a dirty secret suddenly revealed to the world? He didn’t know why but one thing was for sure.

He didn’t like it.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Izuku looked at Fujiko, a steely look in his eyes. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but he’s obviously not here, as you can see.”

He smiled, teeth showing. “And I’m sure that if you called him, Kacchan would tell you that we were out today.”

It was so so petty, Izuku knew. The way he was acting– passive-aggressively asserting ownership over Kacchan. Which was absurd because if any of them should be feeling insecure and angry, it should be him.

After all, it wasn’t Izuku who wore the ring.

It was so so petty, but a small part of him (very, very small, like a dot) was smug at monopolizing even a portion of Kacchan’s time all to himself.

(It was petty and twisted, and he couldn’t find himself caring)

“Oh. Oh, right. I– I’m sorry.” A sniffle.

Izuku’s thoughts halted.

Was she?–

Another sniffle.

He looked at her and saw brown eyes filling with tears.

Izuku moved on instinct, any feeling of satisfaction gone in a blink of an eye. He caught Fujiko in his arms, barely just catching her from collapsing on the floor as her body was wracked with sobs. She was trying to muffle her cries in her hands, her body shaking with every sob.

He held her against his chest, close but not suffocating, loose enough to give her the agency to reject the comfort but secure enough to give her support. When civilians were in hysteria, Izuku knew that they were in a state of disorientation– torn between needing help and needing space.

Something that Fujiko needed now and something Izu– Deku was offering.

He lost track of time, focusing only on coaxing her into breathing in, out, in, out until the sobs turned into small hiccups and sniffles, no longer muffled by callused hands.

Slowly, gently, Izuku let his arms fall, taking a couple steps back. He reached for a quick glass of water, offering it to the woman who was brushing away the remaining tears.

“Here,” He offered the glass to her with a hesitant smile. She returned it with a shaky smile, hands slightly shaking as she held it.

After taking a couple gulps, she sets it down, looking embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Deku-san. I can’t believe I just– it must have been surprising.”

She groaned, hiding her face again. “Ah, I’m so embarrassed. I’m usually not like this, I swear.”

“No, no! It’s fine!” Izuku frantically waves his hands, sending her his brightest smile. “I can’t call myself a hero if I left you in your time of need, after all.”

And that, he was sure of. He may have his moments of doubt when it came to Fujiko, Kacchan, and bundles of complicated feelings, but this– this he was sure of.

Midoriya Izuku was a hero– Deku, who gives people hope.

“So, um,” He coughed, an awkward air hanging between them again. “Would you mind telling me, um... why?”

(Okay, that wasn’t his smoothest but give him a break. He wasn’t Shinso who knew the right thing to say all the time)

“Oh.”

Fujiko rubbed at her arms, biting her lip. She looked to the side, seemingly battling an inner struggle.

Crap, crap, crap. Okay, that was obviously not the route to take, stupid Izuku. Ugh, why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut and let her keep her issues to herself? For God’s sake, they weren’t even close enough to have a heart-to-heart, and they didn’t have a reason to anyway–

“It’s been hard, this past month. With the wedding.”

Oh. Of course. Izuku wanted to slap himself for thinking that there was another– what?– reason for her weird actions. He didn’t know if he should laugh or cry because, of course of course, it was the wedding. His hands began itching to open that bottle of wine from his manager–

“Since, you know, we called it off.”

.

.

.

.

What?!

Fujiko jolted from his outburst, and Izuku just realized he had shouted it out loud. And maybe he should’ve also toned down his voice, but at the moment, his mind wasn’t functioning right, not being able to concentrate on anything else.

The wedding. Kacchan. Fujiko. They called off the wedding.

What? What?

Izuku stumbled back, glad for the nearby chair catching him. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at it. Shots of pain cleared his mind from the haze, but the words were still sinking in.

(Or refused to sink in because is this really happening? Did I hear it right?)

“–san. Deku-san?”

“Huh?” He turned to the voice– Fujiko’s– absentmindedly. He was still out of it, the thumping of his heart impossibly loud and mocking him with wedding wedding wedding wedding.

A slender callused hand took his, fingers pressing and–

Izuku jolts, the haze snapping out of existence, dropping him back to his body. Green eyes snapped to brown concerned ones, her fingers still applying pressure.

Fujiko smiled, “Back, Deku-san? You gave me quite a scare there.”

“Ah! I–I’m so sorry! I just–“ Izuku floundered, feeling his face heat up out of embarrassment. “I just didn’t, um, know about, um, yeah...”

Wow, you should be a politician with how smooth that was, nerd. Ugh, shut up inner voice that sounds like Kacchan.

She looked at him, surprise flooding her face. “You didn’t know? When Ka–“ Her voice broke, a flurry of emotions flashing and disappearing from her eyes. “When we called it off, it reached the news outlets and uh, kind of became a big thing?”

Brown eyes stared into green again, and Izuku wasn’t usually intimidated, but he guesses the situation warranted it. The way Fujiko was looking at him was like a scientist studying a bug under a microscope.

(It was Izuku. Izuku was the bug. A stupid bug that didn’t use his stupid phone)

“You,” Slender callused hands tightened their hold on his for a moment. “You really didn’t know?”

He scratched the back of his head, “Um, no? I was overseas and just came back this week, actually. And I haven’t had the time to check on what I missed.”

Which was really, really a stupid move on his part, now that Izuku thought about it. Information is the primary asset of a hero, a stern Aizawa-like voice in his mind iterated.

(Okay, first there was a Kacchan voice, and now there’s an Aizawa voice? Who’s next, All Might?)

Ugh, he really shouldn’t have gone on a media blackout. It wasn’t his fault (it was, but he wasn’t going to admit to it) that his heart couldn’t take the constant articles that were abuzz with the nearing wedding.

After all, he had already gone across the globe to escape such heartache and despair. Why should he let it go on through his phone, right?

Wrong.

Because apparently, the gods decided that was the perfect time to drop a bomb.

"Wait...” Izuku felt dread sinking in his stomach. He looked at Fujiko, “Is that why you were looking for Kacchan? To–"

“Discuss the logistics of the cancelled wedding, yeah.” She chuckled, but Izuku saw and heard the pain in her voice. He saw because that was something he had done– and continues to do; to cover up his pain with laughter and smiles.

And something in Izuku snaps.

Because how dare Kacchan do this? How dare he let this amazing woman– his perfect match go and just leave her to cry? For her break down until her legs gave under and she couldn’t breathe amidst body-wracking sobs? How dare he?

Izuku must’ve said this out loud because slender but strong hands tightened around his.

“It’s fine, Deku-san.”

He snapped his gaze to Fujiko’s, and his anger– rare, genuine anger burned as he took in her defeated expression.

“No,” Izuku gritted out, “No, it is not fine, Takashima-san. God, I can’t believe he didn’t tell me! He should be–"

“–going through what I’m going through too.”

His mouth clamped shut, feeling disbelief and a kind of awe at the conviction that left her lips. She still looked in pain, defeat hanging around her shoulders, weighing her down. But the fire and surety in her voice were there, clear as day.

As much as Izuku wanted to say otherwise, to get her to admit that this was unfair, this hurts, she should fight for them, he stopped himself.

It wasn’t his place, after all. And even if it was, the little he knew of Takashima Fujiko assured him that she had already thought long and hard; that she had already fought and admitted her loss.

“You’re pretty amazing, Fujiko-san.”

Izuku wanted to say more. He wanted to shower her with praises and reassurances, but he knew he got it across with those few words. After all, Kacchan was the same.

(The thought of the blonde still seared anger in him, but that’ll pass, he knows)

Fujiko smiles, brown eyes looking at him again. Instead of feeling like a bug under a microscope, he felt he was being measured– assessed. To see if he fit the standards of– what, Izuku didn’t know.

After a few moments, her brown eyes filled with mirth and understanding, a smirk tugging at her lips. She looked like she had just gotten an answer to something, the weight on her shoulders lightening.

“Now, I see,” Ignoring Izuku’s confused expression, she squeezed his hand before heading to the door. Just as she turned the knob and just as Izuku was about to call her back, she stopped.

“So, that’s what it was. Ha,” She shook her head, a bittersweet smile on her face, “You’re pretty amazing too, Izuku-san.”

And with a soft click, she was gone.

Leaving an utterly confused Midoriya Izuku on the kitchen stool who was really in need of a drink.

***

This is Bakugou Katsuki. If you fuckers are leaving a prank call again, I will cut your fingers and stuff them up your asses. If not, then why the fuck are you calling?

The phone beeped. Izuku took a breath and started another message.

“Kacchan! Hi! Um, yeah, I know you’re busy but you haven’t returned my calls and,” He released a shuddering breath. “Well, just, um, call me back? Please? I really need to talk to you and not just unload everything on a machine, Kacchan. Plus, it’s really building up on my phone bill, so please, call me back or I’ll be forced to call Auntie and–“

The phone clicked, ending the period for the message. Izuku swore, glaring at the device as if it had personally offended him.

Which it technically has since it keeps failing to get his calls through to Kacchan for the past weeks.

He groaned, throwing his phone to the side, flopping face-down on his bed.

This was getting him absolutely nowhere. He had tried everything– and by everything he means everything; texting, chatting in LIME, social media, spamming mentions, shouting his whole hero name (not just Dynamight!) while on patrol, wafting the smell of triple spicy curry through his window.

Hell, Izuku even tried bribing Hatsume to hack into Mirko’s agency’s database to get a copy of Kacchan’s schedule and patrol routes (because apparently the blonde up and decided to end his vacation on the same day of The Incident™  which was not suspicious at all)

If that was an indication that his partner was ignoring him, then that was just the start of the excruciating radio silence.

Obviously, all those methods failed spectacularly (the last one resulting in a 4-hour lecture from his manager and HR), so he was back to leaving voicemails.

Yes, it was completely normal to send around 10 (minimum 5) voicemails per day. Izuku wasn’t an idiot to send 20; that would just seem desperate.

The only reason that kept him going was that Kacchan’s network provider had called and asked him to kindly please stop sending continuous voicemails to Mr. Dynamight since it’s barring other calls.

(Though Izuku was willing to bet his All Might collection that Kacchan was the one who told them about it)

Ergo, the only option left to him was to use the Auntie card, but he wanted to avoid that as much as possible. At best, it would get Kacchan to return his calls. At worst, well, let’s just say using the Auntie card would violate the bro code that Kirishima spouted about.

(And would result in his blood all over the floor, but psh, details)

Now, Midoriya Izuku was a good friend. He knew when to reach out to some and when to back away. He knew almost all of his friends’ favorite foods and what they would chuck out of the window. He even has their birthdays and special anniversaries on a separate calendar.

So, yeah, Izuku takes pride in calling himself a good friend. He knew he was overcompensating for his lack of friends back in middle school, but he loved it. He loved being able to turn their frowns into smiles, their tears of sadness into that of laughter.

So when Kacchan suddenly dropped him after constant da– meetings (stupid, stupid), he couldn’t help overthinking every little thing he did and said.

Did he mumble too much? Should he have learned to stop himself when he was ranting? Oh god, what if it was his hair? After all, Kacchan always complained about it. Or was it something he did during their breakfasts together? Crap, did something slip from his exhaustion-addled brain? Oh no, did he actually eat a rock?

Izuku groaned in frustration, punching his Dynamight plushie.

“Why are you acting this way, Kacchan?” He glared at the plushie, its scowl taking up almost the whole thing. He swatted at it, but it only flopped sideways, fiery-red eyes still glaring at him.

He huffed, maintaining eye contact. If anyone probably walked in, they’d think he was crazy, having a staring contest with a plushie.

(A limited edition first release plushie, mind you)

“...Is this what you felt when I ignored you that time?” Plushie-Kacchan didn’t reply, still glaring at him on its side. Izuku sighed and straightened it, fluffing it up. He lied back down, back against the wall, the plushie against his chest.

The past weeks were horrible, with an army of feelings battling out inside him. Among the feelings of confusion, irritation, guilt(?), it was a deep-trenching sadness that won. Not because Kacchan was ignoring him, no.

It was because Kacchan was acting like nothing was wrong (even though there was because if there wasn’t, then why couldn’t Izuku sleep?)

In place of answered calls and messages, he devoured news after news of the blonde like a starved man who was hungry for even a sliver of indication that Kacchan was there.

He found himself torn between pride and hurt for the multiple rescues, busts, operations streamed across the country featuring the rising Symbol of Victory.

Because Kacchan was okay. He was more than okay; he was on a streak and keeping the world’s eyes on him.

But Izuku wasn’t okay.

“Kacchan...” He buried his face in the plushie, a familiar burn in his eyes.

There was an almost manic emotional undertone in every message, every call he sent. Izuku’s heart drummed and threatened to burst out of his chest as he waited and waited and waited.

It would be a lie to say that he wasn’t expecting something from those messages and calls. It would be a lie to say that Izuku didn’t stay up several nights in a row, waiting for Kacchan to pick up and call and–

And what? What exactly did he expect to happen once he heard the deep, grumbling voice?

Did he expect a happy ending? A fairytale scene where Kacchan professed his love for Izuku? Where he’ll lovingly whisper in Izuku’s ears that he left her for him for him for him

Images of pained brown eyes filled with tears and slender callused hands clutching at him flashed in his mind. Izuku remembered how Fujiko held herself up after breaking, resolute in picking up the broken pieces with a finality. He remembered her cries and the sobs that looked too big– too much for her to handle.

And he feels sick. He wants to punch himself black and blue, to rip out his traitorous heart that skipped a beat when she–

“We called it off.”

Katsuki. Katsuki.

Kacchan.

Kacchan.

Izuku remembers. He remembers the smell of the sea, the wind, and the waves that tickled him. He remembers the feel of sand latching onto his feet as he ran, mischievous crimson eyes gleaming as they chased after him. He remembers crackling and explosions and wrecked sandcastles. He remembers crimson eyes staring up at him, the usual scowl gone and replaced by the rarest of smiles. He remembers them filling with tears as they both tackled one another to the sand, hands tickling and laughter ringing across the water.

He looks at his phone, thumb hovering over the call button. The chat was filled with messages– unread and all from him for the past weeks.

Izuku took a shuddering breath.

Ring

And called.

.

.

Please.

***

Izuku was so tired.

He rolled his shoulders backward, groaning at the cracks. God, he really should use those massage coupons Yaoyorozu gave him.

But then he remembered the pair of spa coupons she slipped him, a knowing smile on her face.

“Maybe you can invite someone to go with you? It’s nicer to relax when you’re with someone... important.”

Izuku had blushed then, spluttering random excuses he pulled out of nowhere.

Out of your fucking ass, a voice that sounded way too familiar sniped at him. He shook his head of those thoughts, not missing how his heart squeezed at the thought of Kacchan.

Kacchan, his childhood friend who was estranged for a good decade before they reconciled. Kacchan, a crush turned the love of his life when Izuku finally finally stopped denying it.

Kacchan, who... was ignoring him.

Izuku sighed and stepped into the elevator, the doors closing. He spent a good minute just standing behind the closed doors, not pressing any button.

(Of course, he knows where his room was! This wasn’t a repeat of the Mochi Incident, okay)

He bit his lip, eyes darting from 2 to 4.

Should he– but what if– but then– oh no he’ll– still, things are– ugh.

Channeling all the courage he’d saved up over the years, Izuku pressed a shaking finger on the button for the 4th floor. The familiar clunking of the elevator signaled the ascent (and maybe his inevitable death too).

Clenching his fists at the side, he looked resolutely at the elevator doors.

I can do this! I’ve gone a long way since I started in UA. I’m no longer the useless Deku! I’m a hero! I’m confident, intelligent, brave–

The elevator shook as it stopped, doors opening.

–and dead. Oh god, what was he doing? He can’t believe he went to Kacchan’s floor! Oh no no no, he needs to get out of here!

“Midoriya?”

Izuku didn’t know if it was a good thing that Aizawa decided to make pretty much everything in the dorm quirk-proof when he jumped out of fright, instinctively activating One For All.

Before, he would’ve left a Deku-shaped hole in the metal box. Now, Izuku groaned from the floor, rubbing at his head. The school may have saved a lot from damages to school property, but it certainly didn’t keep him from losing a couple brain cells.

“Ow...” He winced when he touched a sore spot. Oh, that was going to leave a big bump, alright.

A couple of arms reached out to him. “You okay there? Sorry, didn’t mean to surprise you. I was concerned since you were just standing there looking like someone killed your dog.”

Well, that was an almost accurate depiction of how he felt before his spectacular elevator jump.

Izuku sheepishly smiled, taking one of Shoji’s hands up. “Yup! ‘M fine, just a little bump! Perfectly a-okay!”

Shoji raised a brow, obviously not believing a word. “Hm, okay. Well, put some ice on that before you sleep.”

He saluted, “Roger that, Tentacole!”

The taller boy shook his head, amused at the greennette’s antics. The girls were right; Midoriya was a fluffy cinnamon roll.

Shoji stepped into the elevator and looked at Izuku. He tilted his head towards the open metal doors.

“Aren’t you getting off?”

“Eh? Um, actually, haha, funny thing is, um...” He trailed off, mumbling excuses of my hand slipped, and I fell on it. Amidst his mumbling, he didn’t even notice multiple arms pushing him out until the elevator doors were closing.

And he wasn’t in it.

“Eh?!"

“Bakugou’s up on the roof, by the way. He left his room a while ago,” Shoji gave him a thumbs-up, and he could swear the silver-haired boy was smirking under his mask. “Goodluck, Midoriya.”

“W–Wait! Shoji–”

The elevator doors closed, ringing the familiar ding before the clunking started up again.

And that’s how he found himself on Kacchan’s floor, looking like a watermelon with how red his face was. At this point, Izuku wasn’t sure why he was flushed– from exhaustion? From panic and overthinking? From being betrayed by Shoji? Or from the thought of finally seeing Kacchan?

Judging by the thundering beat of his heart and the feel of his stomach twisting itself in knots as he walked towards the stairs to the roof, he’s betting on the latter.

(And maybe from the fact that the taller boy had read him so well)

Izuku felt like he was walking to his execution platform with every step he took upwards, the door to the roof seemingly tantalizing yet deadly to him.

It was a venus flytrap, and he was the fly that was venturing too close to the sweet scent.

Staring down at the doorknob, Izuku knew he could still turn back. He didn’t have to do this today. He was tired, after all, from running all around town for his internship. He hadn’t even changed yet, his clothes sticking to him and emanating the mixed smell of sweat and dirt.

He could go back down, take a quick shower and get some good hours of sleep that he’d missed the past week.

He could do all that.

Izuku looked at the doorknob again.

He turned it and pushed.

***

One of the things that Izuku liked the most about Musutafu was the night sky.

Sure, there was Takoba, the nearby almost unending forest, the arcades, and some hero monuments.

But it was the night sky that tugged at his little heart, bright green eyes gazing in wonder at the multitude of bright lights– stars, his mother said– that seemed never-ending.

He knew that other places in Japan were not privy to the sight, the glaring lights of the hustle-bustle activity obscuring the wonder of Mother Nature above.

So Musutafu at night was special for Izuku; it was his special little paradise.

His favorite were the moonless nights, where even the smallest of these lights got their turn to shine– to say, I am here.

Tonight was one of those nights.

A gust of spring wind greeted him as he closed the door behind him, an indication of the end of winter and the start of another season. It also signaled the end of their time in UA, with only a month left before they stepped out and announced their presence to the world.

As heroes.

Izuku felt his world stop at the sight before him, his heart deafening with the rapid thump thump thump thump.

The whole night sky was filled with stars and constellations, their individual glow and sparkle intertwining with each other, forming a trail– a sea in the heavens.

And right in the center, surrounded by it, was Kacchan.

The blonde’s back faced him, his body resting back on his arms, face directed up to the stars. The illuminating light of the sky fell upon Kacchan’s hair, making it glow amidst the darkness of the moonless night.

Izuku’s heart couldn’t stop beating loudly that he clutched at his chest uselessly as if the action would stop the incessant sound.

Bakugou Katsuki was breathtaking.

At times, when he asked himself why he loved Kacchan, he ended up not being able to answer. Not because he couldn’t find anything to say, but because there was too much for there to be words to say anything. Because when he thought about why he loved Kacchan, he couldn’t find words that would be enough to handle– to carry the burden of the torrent of feelings.

Midoriya Izuku just knew that he did.

He had looked at Kacchan’s face, the impermanent scowl etched on his face as he scarfed down the new ultra-spicy ramen and just thought:

Oh, I love him. Huh.

Because for Izuku, ‘love’ had always been equated with Kacchan. When he thought of love, he thought of golden hair and crimson eyes. When he thought of love, he thought of crackles and explosions in his heart. When he thought of Bakugou Katsuki, he thought of love.

Just like now.

He moved, silently sitting beside Kacchan. The blonde didn’t acknowledge his presence, but Izuku knew that Kacchan already knew he was there– even before he had opened the door.

His heart fluttered at the thought that, like him, Kacchan was aware of him too. It had always been that way, after all.

They sat in silence for a while, Izuku leaning back on his arms and gazing at the stars that remained constants in his life. Maybe, long after he passed, they would still be there, just shining down on the rest of humanity.

It was a bittersweet thought, but it made Izuku look at things in perspective, at the things– the precious people in his life that would eventually pass as he would.

Would Kacchan be one of them?

He turned to look at Kacchan and froze.

Crimson eyes were steadily looking back at him, no scowl present on the blonde’s face. Kacchan looked at him with a contemplative look on his face, studying the greennette.

Why, he wasn’t sure. But then again, even after years of knowing each other, Izuku never really knew how to read his childhood friend. He knew how to dissect his words buried under profanities and insults. He knew how to study the meaning beneath his violent actions and tendencies.

But reading Kacchan? That was one thing he couldn’t do.

Which was why when the other had ignored him for the past week– abruptly, just one morning– Izuku’s mind had gone into a frenzy. The stress of panicking over what he did added to his internship's workload, giving him little to no time to process and dissect it.

It made his head hurt and knowing that Kacchan wouldn’t outright tell him. He would never take the first step; that the greennette knew.

So Izuku took the first step. He always did.

“Kacchan, you know you can tell me, right? If I did something wrong? I–“ He clenched his fists, lip trembling. He didn’t look away, “I’m your friend, right?”

Kacchan didn’t say anything back, crimson pools drawing him in. Izuku willed himself to keep his tears at bay because he couldn’t cry. Not here, not right now. He wanted to avert his eyes from crimson, to stand and go back. It wasn’t like he expected Kacchan to do a 180 and spill his heart out after all. They– they weren’t that kind of friends.

They were still Deku and Kacchan. Not Izuku and Katsuki.

Izuku opened his mouth, an excuse to leave ready– to be anywhere but here, then–

Kacchan moved, hands reaching out.

And something buried in Izuku’s mind came out like a flash; images of sneers and taunts, hooded crimson eyes filled with hate, deafening explosions, and burnt paper. Those images– memories that he’d buried long ago jumped out and overlapped, and he couldn’t help it.

He flinched, eyes closing and arms raised.

.

.

But the explosions, the taunts, the burn never came.

Izuku lowered his arms and opened his eyes, meeting crimson ones that shone with emotions that whirled and clashed against one another.

Shock, guilt, anger, sadness, resignation, acceptance.

Then Kacchan blinked, and the shutters closed, the walls went up once more. He turned his gaze back to the stars, hands back at his sides.

“‘S fine. It was just a shitty week. Stop thinking everything’s about you, Deku.”

Oh. “Oh.”

Izuku didn’t know where to go from here, a tense atmosphere hanging heavier by the minute. He knew– somehow, he knew that it was because of something he did. And he wanted to fix it– whatever this was before leaving it to die out in the night air–

“Ain’t you goin’ to take a shower, shitty nerd? You fucking stink.”

The fire inside him fizzled out, his determination deflating at the words.

Kacchan wants me to leave him alone. He swallowed, the lump in his dry throat becoming heavy.

“...Okay, Kacchan.”

Each step felt heavy like his feet were chained by a weight. The stars seemed to shine brighter, the wind picking up and trying trying to push him back down, to stay.

Izuku turned the knob, and the weight was gone, the stars back to the heavens, the wind passing. Before closing the door behind him, he turned back, a sad smile on his face. The blonde wasn’t looking, and he wasn’t sure if he was glad for it.

“Have a nice night, Kacchan.”

Izuku closed it, a soft click echoing.

And the world was dark again, with no stars and no wind. With no sea of lights in the heavens that played with blonde locks and no familiar scent of cinnamon and smoke.

Chapter Text

You have (119) voicemails pending.

(1)

“Uh, hello? Is this working? Wait, did I hear the beep? Or didn’t I? Ugh, why didn’t Ochako tell me how this works? Ok, you know what, I’ll just–"

(2)

“Ok! I think I got it figured out. I mean, I hope I do. Otherwise, this would be so embarrassing and– oh, oh no, it started already? Why didn’t I– ugh–"

(3)

“Hi Kacchan, this is um, Izuku. Well, obviously, it is but just in case! Anyway, can I talk to you? I wanted to yesterday, but I couldn’t since I, uh, passed out last night. Not in a bad way, though! Just had a bit too much to drink, that’s all... Anyway, uh, yeah, call me back. Please.”

(4)

“Hi, this is Izuku. Again. Yup, uh... so, you didn’t call? I also tried texting and messaging on LIME but you didn’t reply so, here I am. Again. Ha, yeah... Um, it’s just that it’s really important. Actually, uh, Fujiko-san told me about the– the wedding being called off so... Call me back, Kacchan.”

(5)

“Shkkkkkkkkkkkk– Fuck, where’s my phone? Ugh, is it shkkkkkkkshkkkkk Oh crap, crap, I need to end–"

(6)

“Kacchan! I’m so sorry. I had too much to drink and I uh, butt-dialed you? Is that still a thing? Or should I call it pillow-dial? Or palm-dial? Since it was technically my palm that hit the call button? Hm... Whatever, um, yeah just ignore that, haha!”

(7)

“Hng... Kacchan, I... Why won’t you answer my calls? Hck, did I do something wrong? Hng... why didn’t you tell me about the wedding, Kacchan? I’m here for you, you know. I’m your friend...”

(8)

“Hey, Kacchan! So, I heard from Amajiki-san that you’re back! Um, that was quick. I thought you were using up your vacation days? Well, uh, haha, I guess that’s not my concern. So, if you’re free, maybe let’s meet up at the usual hang? I... I miss you, Kacchan.”

(9)

“Katsuki... Katsuki... Katsuki... Please.”

(10)

“Kacchan! Hi! I went to your agency today and I was kinda sad to miss you. Mirko said you got shipped out to a joint mission in Yamagata? Good luck! I know you can do it! Kacchan's amazing after all! Anyway, uh, I just decided to drop your gift at the agency! Since, I don’t have keys to your house, haha. So... um, Happy Birthday, Kacchan!”

(11)

“Hi Kacchan! Congratulations on the rise in rankings, again! Ahh, I should really pick up the pace to catch up, heh. Um, anyways, since you’re done with that bust operation, um.. are you free on Friday? Dinner’s on me? Just call me!”

(12)

“N-no, S-Shoto, hic, it’s fiiiine. Oh! Kacchan! Helloooo there! Ah, and before you say anything, I am not drunk. But, ha, it’s not like you can say anything since this just went to voicemail. But then again you also didn’t say anything about your fiancée so– hey! Shoto–"

(13)

“Ugh... Kacchan? I’m sorry about last night. I dont... remember much? Shoto told me I drunk-dialed you? I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t pick up... Or is it a bad thing? Ha... Are you still ignoring me, Kacchan? I–"

(14)

“Kacchan, your favorite ramen is the one from Yamada’s right? The one that made a 15-scale spicyness for you? Hm... yeah, I think it is! Okay, just wait, Kacchan!”

(15)

“Kachaaan, why did you have to make your hero name so long? Hrn, you know what, I’ll just record it–"

(16)

“Um, Kacchan? If Eijirou calls you and, haha, mentions something about Auntie Mitsuki, no need to worry okay? It was just a misunderstanding, I swear!”

(17)

“...Kacchan? Your network provider called me and asked me to stop sending voicemails... I know it was you who called them to stop me, Kacchan. I– What else can I do then? You’re not answering any of my calls or texts, and you don’t read my messages or mentions in social media! God, at this rate Kacchan I–"

(17)

“Kacchan! Hi! Um, yeah, I know you’re busy but you haven’t returned my calls and well, just, um, call me back? Please? I really need to talk to you and not just unload everything on a machine, Kacchan. Plus, it’s really building up on my phone bill, so please, call me back or I’ll be forced to call Auntie and–"

(18)

“Hck... I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Kacchan. I don’t know what I did, I– was it something I did when I came back? Are you still angry that I left for a month? I thought we– I thought we were already okay... Or is this about Fujiko-san? I’m sorry, I know I don’t have a right to butt in your relationship. It’s okay, Kacchan, I don’t need an explanation I just... I just need you.”

(19)

“... I miss you, Katsuki. I miss the beach. I miss the time we spent there. I miss our lunches and dinners and stupid breakfasts. I miss fighting over the bill with you. I miss waking up with you. I miss... I miss you, Kacchan. Can you please, please, call me?”

***

Katsuki turned his phone off before the next one played, throwing it somewhere on his bed. He groaned as he flopped down, arm thrown over his eyes.

It had been another shitty day.

For the past weeks, it seemed like villains were looking forward to getting blown up, with their insane numbers popping up almost every fucking day. It was one of the reasons he got pulled out of his vacation, ready to jump into the fray.

Though, there was another reason.

That reason being a fluffy-haired nerd with too bright green eyes and a smile that outshines the fucking sun.

Things had been great– fucking amazing– when Deku came back from who knows where. Sure, the nerd was obviously hiding something from him, but he let it slide since Katsuki was hiding something too.

Tit for tat, you know? He doesn’t push the shitty nerd for whatever secrets he’s hiding, and he gets to avoid the whole wedding topic altogether.

...Right.

Katsuki looked towards his nightstand, his heart clenching at the sight of the velvet box that was once empty and now filled.

“Goddammit,” He rubs the heel of his hands into his eyes, willing the burn to go the fuck away because he can’t handle any more tears, goddammit.

He’s had enough of crying and not sleeping for months already, assholes.

Katsuki leaves the bedroom because there were too many memories there that he couldn't– fuck. Memories of shared whispers and kisses with brown eyes and slender hands haunted the room, making him all pathetic because he couldn’t make any of it go away.

But walking out to the living room was a big fucking mistake.

Instead of sweet memories of morning smiles and slow dances, he remembers the fights– their shouts, their tears, voices raw torn and broken. He remembers when they both snapped; when she had asked him the one question he never wanted to hear.

Because he wasn’t sure if he was ready for the answer that would spill from him.

Katsuki looked at his finger, and he hated how his heart clenched at how empty it looked. He hated it. After all, he had no right to be hurt because he chose this. He was the one who led them to this.

“Do you love me? Care for me?”

“Yes, fuck yes.”

“Do you want to marry me?”

“Yes, of course I fucking do.”

A breath.

“...Will you be happy with me?”

.

.

“No. No, I won’t.”

She looked so fucking lost then like Katsuki had pulled the world under her feet, and in some way, he did. He had never hated himself so much then as he watched the person he loved– the strong woman who had charmed him– break.

“Where do we go from here?”

“I think it’s clear where, Katsuki.”

“... Fuck.”

“Yeah... fuck.”

That was two months ago, with Deku going off to the other side of the world for a month-long mission being the icing to the cake.

And Katsuki had never felt so alone.

(He wasn’t he wasn’t he wasn’t, but then why were there phantoms roaming around his house)

So when he managed to wrangle the date from Mirio, he ran– away from the house that had too many memories that suffocated him at every turn, keeping him up at night.

Seeing the stupid nerd with poorly shaven stubble and wild hair stumble through the elevator was like a breath of fresh air. And Katsuki could finally– fucking finally breathe.

That week was the best week he had in months because, well, it was Izuku. His hours were filled to the brim with green everything. The stupid, adorable nerd breathed life into the empty house until memories of fights and morning dances were overtaken by night documentaries and tranquil breakfasts.

Being with Izuku wasn’t completely peaches and rainbows, either. Because constantly seeing bright green eyes, and the way the sun’s rays played upon the never-ending freckles splattered like paint on a canvas was like rubbing salt on an open fucking wound– it burned.

(Katsuki was used to burning, not the other way around)

Then again, all common sense seems to fly out the window when it came to Midoriya fucking Izuku. Rather than serve as a distraction, spending time with the nerd made everything worse and better at the same time.

(And how the fuck was that even possible?)

Better, because every moment Katsuki spent with Izuku were literal moments of sunshine and fuck that was sappy as shit.

He didn’t want to fucking admit it. He didn’t. He didn’t want to admit that that week he spent going on cheesy dates (not that the stupid nerd knew) made him wake up the next day, forgetting the velvet box on his nightstand and the empty spots in his closet.

In just a week, shitty Deku made him forget– for just a while– the woman he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with. The woman he had shoved a ring in the face and gotten soft kisses in return.

So as much as Katsuki wanted to stay in that bubble of happiness that the nerd effortlessly made (that no one, never, anyone could), where mornings were spent with tea and lazy smiles, and nights spent with cuddles and hero documentaries– he couldn’t.

Not when he had already resolved he shouldn’t. Not when he still sees those bright green eyes looking at him with fear, with his past self hanging around like a demon with vicious sneers and hands that had hurt, rather than protect.

And no amount of therapy could manage to wrangle those memories and demons from him. No amount of words of forgiveness could make him crawl out of this hole he had settled in– a hole that kept him from reaching up towards redemption.

Bakugou Katsuki may be a prideful motherfucker with an ego the size of Mt Fuji, but even he knew he was beyond redemption.

“Everything’s okay, Kacchan. We’re going to be okay.”

He remembers how he had pathetically clung onto the nerd then, with cries of apologies and begging for forgiveness. And the fact that he hated how weak he sounded already spoke multitudes on how he had leagues to go.

Katsuki still found himself as that pathetic bully who proclaimed himself as a hero while stepping on others’ dreams, with his hands capable of only destruction and nothing else because he’s nothing but a filthy villai–

“I know, I know, Kacchan. It’s okay, it’s okay.”

It’s not, It’s fucking not, stupid Deku.

"Idiot. Do you think I'll ever not support you? I'm Kacchan's number one fan, remember?"

You’re the idiot, asshole. How can you be the fan of someone like me, you piece of shit.

“I’m the one at fault, okay? Not you. I mean it, Kacchan.”

No, no, Izuku, Izuku, it’s my fault. It’s always been my fault, fuck–

“I miss you, Kacchan.”

.

“I miss you too, Deku,” He spoke aloud, the words echoing across the empty house.

Tinkles of laughter danced along his ears, the ghost of disfigured scarred hands threaded through his, the ends of soft green wild locks tickling his chin.

Katsuki breathed.

He breathed in the salty scent of the sea, of fresh flowers and sun, of the scent of dust after rain, of lightning and blood, of the musky scent that was uniquely Midoriya Izuku.

He breathed and realized he hadn’t been breathing for weeks. He hadn’t been breathing since he had driven away, seeing scarred arms wave goodbye. Not since she had called, and he was wrenched out of that happy little bubble.

Katsuki hadn’t been breathing since he stopped seeing green eyes and smiles like sunshine.

And fuck, he wanted to breathe again.

He remembered the number of calls and messages that decreased day by day, the nerd’s voice slowly cracking with every voicemail.

(He doesn’t want to wait for it to break)

“I know you, Kacchan. You aren’t the type to go into things without thinking them over. And when you decide on something, you stick by it because you believe it.”

He wasn’t going to run away anymore.

***

Were the gods laughing at him? Mocking him? Or bored in wherever they are to play with him like this?

Because Izuku wasn’t laughing.

This wasn’t funny, no, not in the slightest. Not when the scene was exactly like it was almost a month ago now, and he couldn’t help but wonder if everything since then had been a dream.

(But nights spent crying over unanswered calls that left his voice hoarse and his eyes spent wasn’t a dream, it couldn’t have been. Did dreams hurt this much?)

Kacchan was waiting for him in the agency's lobby, clad in casual designer clothing with a cap that failed to contain his explosive hair.

Izuku almost reached to pinch his arm before stopping himself. Because if he did that again, then that would be repeating this whole thing all over.

It would be repeating the simple lunches, the bickering over dinner bills, the lazy mornings waking in Kacchan’s arms, and that would hurt too much. It would make his heart and mind, both already so so strained, collapse in on themselves until even he couldn’t pick the pieces up anymore.

But this wasn’t a repeat, not really.

Izuku wasn’t covered in soot and bruises or still suited up in his hero costume; he was in civilian attire, just finished freshening up and ready to head to the grocery to buy some instant noodles for dinner. Kacchan wasn’t cockily heading over, spewing his usual expletives; there were dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes, and Izuku would’ve thought he looked defeated if it wasn’t for the calm determination burning in his eyes.

And to be honest, just the sight of Kacchan after weeks of nothing overrides every ounce of self-preservation he had (not that he had much, to begin with, anyway).

So even if Izuku was stuck in this loop, he’ll gladly keep running if it means it would be toward Kacchan.

“Kacchan.”

(If he sounded a little breathless when saying his partner’s name, no one could prove it)

He found himself on his toes, waiting on Kacchan’s response. It was pathetic, and he was acting like a dog, but sue him. He’d always been like that once it came to the blonde anyway.

Kacchan opened his mouth to say something in response– Izuku’s heart thumped in anticipation, hungry for nicknames to spill from his mouth; shitty nerd, dork, Deku, idiot, stupi–

“Izuku.”

Oh. Oh no.

He wanted to plead with Kacchan to stop, stop, stop calling my name like it was a prayer and looking at me like I held the world in my hands.

If he doesn’t stop, Izuku doesn’t think he would last in holding back the torrent of years of emotions beating against his walls, threatening to break it open and let everything go.

(He won’t, he can’t. Not now, not ever)

With practiced hands, he sealed it all back up, wrangling them back into the box he had put under lock and chain. And if doing that made him feel hollow and empty, Kacchan didn’t need to know.

Izuku cleared his throat, a nervous smile on his lips. “Um... hi.”

He winced. Okay, another not smooth response, Izuku, very nice. He sheepishly looked at the blonde, expecting a snarky reaction like you high or somethin–

“Hi.”

He gaped.

“Can we talk?” Kacchan grumbled, crimson momentarily flicking up to green, before looking down at his feet.

It took a solid second for Izuku’s mind to reboot before he spluttered, a flush working its way up to his face.

“Um– s–sure, I mean, y–yes, uh, roger that?”

Kacchan rolled his eyes and started walking towards the doors, hands shoved in his pockets. When Izuku showed no signs of following, still frozen and processing his word vomit, Kacchan stopped and looked back, sporting a scowl.

“Oi, get movin’ already,” He growled, “shitty Deku.”

Izuku couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Oh, thank god, there’s my Kacchan. And then almost immediately tripping over his own feet because not my Kacchan, nope nope nope!

He ducked his head and hastily pushed a cap over his hair as he ran out towards Kacchan, ignoring the curious looks thrown his way. Judging by the heat in his face, he probably looks like a watermelon now.

Izuku caught up to Kacchan (and yes, maybe his heart fluttered when the blonde slowed his pace), opting to leave a reasonable distance between them. Reasonable being almost on the other side of the sidewalk and a few more inches would make him a jaywalker.

Yup, totally reasonable.

Of course, Kacchan didn’t think the same, with the now firm grip on his arm keeping him just inches away from the blonde as they walked (dragged, in Izuku’s case).

“Um... Kacchan?”

A grunt.

“Uh, where are we going? I thought you wanted to talk? Because I don’t think having a talk in the middle of the street or while walking is good since we’re pro-heroes and we might bite our tongu–"

“Fuck, can you shut up for once, shitty nerd? Damn.”

Silence.

“So... where are we going?”

Kacchan groaned and quickened his pace, cursing under his breath that strangely sounded like stupid therapist, stupid anger management, stupid nerd.

Even though many questions ran through his mind and threatened to spill from him like– where is he taking me? Are we going to have lunch again? Or maybe to his house? Or to the beach?– Izuku kept his mouth shut and let himself be dragged away.

No, he doesn’t think he imagines the pitying looks passerbys gave him as they gave the explosive hero a wide berth. He swears he even sees an old man pray for him and a lady’s dog pitying him with its eyes.

Well, that couldn’t be good.

He looked at Kacchan’s back, seeing the line of tension strung tight, his shoulders tense with every movement. Was Kacchan angry? Well, he could be nervous, but Kacchan doesn’t get nervous, so that’s not it. Did something happen at work? Oh no! What if something happened to mom and Kacchan’s trying to lay the news easily–

“Oi! We’re here, shitty ‘Zuku. Stop your fucking rambling and get us in already.”

–that something horribly gruesome happened and– “Eh? In?”

Izuku noticed his surroundings, blinking owlishly at the door to his apartment. Huh. He didn’t even notice riding the elevator.

Judging by the unimpressed look on Kacchan’s face, he was sure the blonde knew he didn’t notice.

Nice, this is definitely the makings of a pro-hero, Izuku. Having zero self-preservation to observe your surroundings, juuust great.

With a sheepish smile at his now-getting-impatient partner, Izuku unlocked the door. He didn’t even bat an eye when Kacchan strode in before him, going straight to the kitchen.

Izuku couldn’t help but feel a sense of deja vu but shrugged it off.

His senses might be going haywire today.

***

Okay, his senses were definitely not haywire today.

Because he was definitely sitting on a kitchen stool, a cup of jasmine tea cradled in his hands, with an angry(?) Kacchan aggressively grinding coffee beans across from him with the kettle on.

...Yes, he had already pinched himself to check. No, it was not a dream.

Izuku sipped his tea, eyes not leaving Kacchan, who was pacing across his kitchen and grinding the beans while growling die die die stupid druggie beans.

Since the blonde had demanded (shouted, really) that he sit his ass down, neither of them had said much. Well, other than an occasional contented sigh from Izuku as he drank tea and a grunt from Kacchan when he moved to refill it.

It was like a lifetime before the kettle eventually whistled, Kacchan swiftly pouring it over the grinds, the scent of freshly-brewed coffee filling the space.

(Of course, tea would remain superior for Izuku, but he keeps quiet)

He silently watched as Kacchan leaned back against the counter, brows furrowed as crimson eyes watched the coffee drip into the cup. Rather than anger, varying emotions flitted across his face, some too fast for Izuku to catch.

Some that he did only made him confused (and maybe slightly scared); sadness, pain, resignation.

Why was Kacchan feeling those? Was– was he thinking about her? Was he having second thoughts and wanted to talk to Izuku about it? Oh no, what should he do? Of course, if it made Kacchan happy, then he would gladly dig a grave for his stupid, stupid feelings of hope that keeps coming back and push the love of his life back in another’s arms.

That was– that was just how he was.

Izuku wanted to be selfish like others were and fight. He couldn’t help but bitterly smile at his thoughts.

If only things were that simple.

If there were gods out there, looking down, he thinks he doesn’t like what’s happening. He doesn’t like how he’s been put in the same position again– in his kitchen again, too.

He remembers being crushed against a solid chest, strong arms holding him as he shook, as tears spilled, and he struggled to breathe. He remembers the steady beat of Kacchan’s heart as the love of his life held Izuku in his arms, soft murmurs whispered in their little bubble. Izuku remembers. He remembers how crimson eyes looked into his and gave him a choice– handed him the reigns to do what he will.

"You say the word, and I'll call this off."

Izuku remembers, and there’s a burn in his eyes. He blinks and blinks and wonders why it was raining as droplets fell into his tea. He wonders why it was raining in his kitchen and why everything was watery, and he couldn’t see.

“-ku, Deku? Oi, shitty nerd, what are yo–“

Izuku looks up, and he feels something wet dripping down his cheeks. He absentmindedly wipes it away, and it must’ve been the rain because it doesn’t stop dripping. He catches a look of his reflection in the refrigerator and–

Oh. I’m crying. Why am I crying?

He feels pressure against both sides of his face, and it takes him a couple of seconds to discern it. Izuku almost double-takes at the sudden proximity of Kacchan’s face, blatant concern overruling the facade of scowls and anger. It also takes him a second to realize that the blonde was wiping away his tears just like he had that day he found him under the bridge.

(But this time, rough, war-trodden hands were gentle and treated him like glass)

The memory pulls at his heart, and he remembers the promise under the sky that was painted in hues of purples and oranges, the last of the sun’s rays touching upon the trees and rocks.

“I’ll just marry you. So I can protect you and crap, idiot ‘zuku.”

Liar.

“De– Izuku, Izuku, please, talk to me. Fuck, why are you still crying, goddammit,” Kacchan’s voice cracked, his hands taking an almost desperate hold on the greennette’s face as he wiped the tears away.

Katsuki was at a loss as they continued flowing like a fucking dam down Izuku's face, and the idiot was still not saying a damn word. He was torn between the impulse to submit to anger (which was a default, at this point) and the need to kiss away the stupid tears that haven’t stopped, fuck.

Scarred hands reached up and held his wrists, making the coiling fire of anger simmer down into nothing. Katsuki released a breath he didn’t even know he was holding at the touch.

Green eyes shining with tears were looking at him, and he felt the urge to put up his facade and walls because it was always like this.

It was always those fucking eyes of shitty Deku that always always looked through every defense he held up, beating them down seamlessly as if it didn’t take Katsuki years to build them up.

Izuku’s tears stopped flowing, but his eyes still shone, ready to open the dam again at any moment. He took a shuddering breath, tightening his hold on Kacchan’s wrists.

“Kacchan, why... why did you call it off?”

The rough (but gentle, so so gentle) hands on his face froze. And maybe, just maybe, he should’ve waited for an answer. Waited for Kacchan to form words out no matter how long it took.

But even Midoriya Izuku got tired of waiting for Bakugou Katsuki.

”Why, Kacchan? You two were–“ Izuku choked, a sob crawling its way up, “She was the love of your life! And you were hers! So why? Why did you let her go?”

Izuku’s sobs wracked his body, but he kept his death-grip on Kacchan’s wrists, green on crimson.

“She came to me, you know, after that day at the beach and I–” He bit his trembling lip, “I felt so ashamed, Kacchan. Because I didn’t know! I didn’t know and I had to hold her because she broke.”

Izuku remembers how she looked so much like he did– when he was curled in on his body, arms wrapped around himself, trying to keep himself from breaking apart in the past months as the cream-colored paper with two names and a date remained on his fridge.

“She was the love of your life...” Izuku feels the anger seep out of him, leaving him exhausted. “So, why did you let her go?”

Why did you have to hurt me this way? Why did you have to torment me with the idea of losing you forever? Why did you have to repeatedly break me for months?

Why, why why, why, why

Unspoken questions remained stuck in his throat that had closed up on instinct– the familiar ghost of secrets and lies squeezing its phantom fingers, giving its warning.

Crimson eyes regarded him for a moment, then Kacchan was slipping away from Izuku, scarred hands too caught in the emotional fatigue to keep their hold.

Kacchan’s face was contorted into a frown, lips pursed and brows furrowed as if in pain (and maybe he was, Izuku thinks). The greennette sees the deep dark circles, the ashy pallor of his skin, the red-rimmed eyes that looked like they’ve been rubbed raw.

“He should be going through what I’m going through too.”

Katsuki gritted his teeth, clenched and unclenched his sweat-filled palms, unsure of what to do. But no, fuck, that wasn't true.

He knew what he had to do, goddammit. At least, that’s what he told himself to force him to stop running the fuck away like a shitty coward.

He looks at Izuku whose eyes shone with tears– a few slipping at the corners– and looking so utterly lost.

His heart stuttered, and he breathed.

Okay.

“She asked me something– during one of our nasty fights. And don’t look at me like that shitty nerd. Every couple,” He thinks he chokes on the word, “Fights. Even the stupid lovey-dovey ones.”

Katsuki rakes a hand through his hair, pacing across the kitchen tiles. If some of his strands crackled and popped, he didn’t notice.

“We were both stressed for the wed– the thing and suddenly a misstep turned into shouts and broken plates and then–" He stopped pacing, the aggression building in his body suddenly snapping.

He looked at Izuku, and there was confusion swimming in his green eyes. Still, there was also evident patience– and Katsuki grabs onto it because those stupid, stupid eyes were always the pillar he clung onto.

Softly, quietly, he spoke.

“She asked me if I’d be happy with her. And I–" A hollow chuckle he didn’t even know he was capable of producing came out, “I was ready to tell her that yes, of fucking course I’ll be happy.”

Izuku’s mouth was dry, his heart thumping in his ears as he stared at Kacchan. The words left his lips even with the heaviness of his tongue and the tightening grip of ghost-like fingers against his throat.

“.. What did you say?”

Crimson eyes heavy with emotion locked with his, and Izuku almost drowned.

“What do you fucking think?”

No. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Kacchan chuckled again, and Izuku’s heart clenched at the hollow sound, “Oh.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, not really. Should he be speaking words of comfort? That it wasn’t Kacchan’s fault for not having his feelings match with hers? Should he be admonishing his partner? Pushing him to realize that this was just a tiny bump in the road and he should fight for her?

Izuku didn’t know.

And the fact that he didn’t was making him realize there were many things he didn’t know about Kacchan. That... maybe it wasn’t only him who had a phantom made of lies that hung and maintained a grip around his throat and heart.

That Kac– Katsuki had his secrets too; his demons and ghosts.

“You know I hated her for asking me that.”

He couldn’t help but gape in shock, not expecting those words of admission. Kacchan was leaning against the kitchen counter, a cold mug of coffee nestled in his hands.

He wasn’t looking at Izuku.

“I hated her because I loved her and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, but I couldn’t be happy with her. And what the hell was that? I hated how she managed to, out of all the fucking questions in the goddamn world, pick the one that ended us.”

The mug shook in his hands. It was set aside, with not a single drop drunk.

“But then, I hated myself more. Because I ended this, goddammit. She may have dug the fucking grave but I was the one who pushed us in it. And all I could think of when she left was fuck, why the hell did I say that?”

Kacchan pushed the heel of his hand in his eyes, head bowed. He was shaking, and Izuku saw a sliver of a tear drop before it was hastily wiped away.

Then he lifted his head and looked straight at Izuku.

“I hate you, Izuku. I hate you, fucking nerd. I hate you, you stupid asshole. I fucking hate you.”

It hurt.

It wasn’t the first time that Kacchan said those words to him, no. Actually, almost every one of their encounters led to his childhood friend telling him to ‘DIE’ attached with some expletives and curses. But Izuku knew that those were playful banters and already trademark expressions.

He knew.

This was different, though. Because there wasn’t any hint of real anger in Kacchan’s voice, no spitting venom, no harshness.

The reason it hurt was that Kacchan’s voice sounded so defeated and resigned as if the words he was saying were something he had tried so hard to believe but couldn’t.

And Izuku’s heart broke just a little bit more when his pillar of victory, his partner, the one constant in his life– the love of his life sounded like he was giving up.

Before he realized it, he was already crossing the space between them, pulling Kacchan into an embrace.

“Kacchan...” Izuku wrapped his arms around the blonde, nestling his head in the crook of Kacchan’s neck.

Katsuki tensed, before conceding to the warmth and familiar scent of fresh flowers and sun, of the scent of dust after rain– of Izuku.

He closed his eyes and nuzzled into soft green locks that tickled at his nose, the fresh scent tempting to lull him into sleep. Fuck, everything about Izuku wrapped around him like a blanket and made him feel safe and soft and loved.

Katsuki should hate it. He should hate how with one look, one smile, he was gone– all putty in the hands of the nerd. He should hate how much of the reigns he was handing to Izuku, of resigning everything to him– his heart, his trust. He should fucking hate how the stupid idiot didn’t even think to take advantage of it like the thought never passed his mind.

He really really should.

“I fucking hate you,” Katsuki murmurs, “I fucking hate how I see your face when I think of being happy.”

The greennette in his arms tensed, but he storms through because this was something he wasn’t going to run away from. Not anymore. He’s spent years of running, and he’s fucking tired.

“I hate, hate how the one week I spent by your side taking care of your stupid ass made me–“ His voice cracked, and he tightened his hold on Izuku. “Made me the goddamn happiest I’ve been than the years I spent with her.”

Katsuki could feel his traitorous heart beat fast, his breathing ragged.

“So fuck you. Fuck you, Izuku. Fuck you for making me fall in love with you.”

He feels the burn in his eyes, and he wants to wipe them away, but he can’t– because wiping them away would mean letting go of the love of his life, and he isn’t ready for that.

Katsuki knew he’ll have to, eventually. When the nerd would give him one of those shitty understanding smiles, stupid green eyes full of sympathy as he turned him down. He knew he’ll have to, soon.

His arms tighten around the warm body, burrowing further into green locks that remind him of sunset-colored forests and piggyback rides.

Not yet. Not yet, please.

“I love you.” The tears come harder, and his body shakes.

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” Katsuki repeats it like a mantra because maybe it is. It’s almost a prayer that spills from his lips; a prayer he sent in the past years when the nights make him weak and vulnerable.

A prayer to make his wish come true.

“I love you and I’m sorry, Izuku. I’m so sorry for falling in love with you. I don’t fucking deserve to after everything I’ve done, fuck. I–“ Katsuki sobs, and he clutches at the greennette, afraid that he’ll be gone.

“I don’t know what more I can do to stop it, but I’ll try, Izuku. I love you, I love you, and I’m sorry.”

And this, Katsuki knows. It’s knowledge he’d forcefully carved into his bones, branded on his skin, scratched into his eyes.

Because no matter how many apologies spill from his lips, no matter how many times the love of his life forgives him, it didn’t change the fact that it happened. That it left scars on both of them– scars that won’t go away with time or with quirks.

He remembers a night filled with stars when he was supposed to reach out and try– because a small hopeful voice pushed him. Hey, maybe it can work out? Perhaps you’re still worthy of love, if not redemption?

Then that hope crashes and burns, its ashes scattering in the night air when green eyes had filled with terror and hid behind scarred arms.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I tried, Izuku. I fucking tried stopping this, because you don’t deserve an asshole in your life. I tried and tried and I’m sorry–“

Katsuki stops, not because he wanted to but because he couldn’t continue.

Izuku pulled away from the embrace, with his hands loosely hanging at Kacchan’s hips. Black wisps of smoke trailed along the blonde’s back to his neck, wrapping around Kacchan’s mouth.

(It was a bit of a cheat, he knows, but he needed to)

Tilting his head back a bit, Izuku looks at Kacchan. For the first time– maybe, in years– he looks at Kacchan.

The love of his life had red-rimmed eyes, crimson pools still shining with tears that flowed disproportionately down his reddened cheeks. Kacchan’s nose was red at the tip, the occasional sniffle showing how clogged it was. There was still an ashy pallor to his skin, the dark circles a bit less noticeable with the redness across his cheeks.

Midoriya Izuku looks at Bakugou Katsuki and sees.

He sees the defeated slump in his shoulders, so so different from the usual puff of his chest brimming with unrivaled confidence. He sees the pained expression etched deep into his body, cloaked under scowls and shouts. He sees the deep sea of guilt and regret in crimson eyes, different from haughty ones that shone with mirth and fire.

But most of all, Izuku sees sincerity, and everything stops.

Kacchan loves me.

.

And air comes in, and he breathes.

.

Kacchan loves me.

Izuku feels the choking grip of phantom fingers waste away into nothing, and his heart bursts in his chest until he’s filled with a warm giddy feeling.

Was this happiness? Was this love? Whatever it was, Izuku knew it was because of one thing:

Kacchan loves me.

He looks at the love of his life, and flashes– memories– go through his eyes.

He sees the child who shone above the rest and the promises made between them. He sees the teen who left him broken bones and broken promises but still shone effortlessly, and Izuku craved to reach. He sees the boy who cried in his arms and apologies spilling into the sea. He sees the man who declared himself as his hero partner and fought with him over dinner bills, fed him in lazy mornings, and snuggled against him in late nights.

Izuku sees and sees, and all of them come together as one because this was Kacchan. He was the boy he had followed, stumbled after until they were finally walking side-by-side.

“Kacchan loves me.”

And the warmth in his chest spreads and surges him to move and reach–

Black Whip dissipates, and suddenly, Izuku was cupping Katsuki’s face, a blinding smile on his face, eyes shining brighter than any star Katsuki had ever seen.

Hands led him down, with the warmth of scar-trodden hands that had gone through and given so much, leading him to follow.

“I love Kacchan too.” Izuku breathes against Katsuki’s lips and moves to close the distance, swallowing the blonde’s small gasp, his eyes fluttering shut.

Everything was spinning, and Katsuki thinks he’ll collapse like an idiot, but he doesn’t. He moves his hands and threads them through green locks, feeling the sigh from Izuku’s lips.

For a second, Katsuki thinks this was another stupid dream that would stomp on his heart until it was grounded dust.

For a second.

Then he shifts and angles them, the movement awarding him a soft moan from Izuku. There’s something wet that drips into the kiss, and they separate, tasting the salty liquid.

“Fuck,” Katsuki scrubs at his traitorous eyes that apparently didn’t have a stop-the-shitty-ass crying button because tears continued to fall.

Izuku laughs and wipes the tears away. “Don’t cry, Kacchan,” He kisses Katsuki’s eyelids which fluttered close at the gentle touch.

“‘M not crying, you asshole.” Katsuki sniffles, solidifying his point.

“Kacchan shouldn’t cry anymore,” Izuku can’t stop smiling. It was infectious that Katsuki doesn’t even remember never not smiling as he looked at his partner.

His Izuku.

“You don’t tell me what to do, nerd.”

“I can tell you I love you, though.”

And Izuku laughs when Katsuki blushes, and he feels so light and free when he does. Because he finally can.

My Katsuki.

He reaches to kiss Katsuki’s forehead and keeps them close, crimson gazing into green, their breaths mingling.

“And Kacchan loves me?”

Rough but gentle hands cup his face, warmth filling him. Katsuki smiles, and Izuku could only stare.

He could only stare as the corner of Katsuki’s eyes crinkle with how his smile stretched wide. He could only stare as crimson eyes shone like one of the stars in the night sky, filling with love for Izuku.

“I do.”