Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I have more important shit to do.”

“I’m not important enough for you?”

“I’m becoming a fucking hero, Deku. That’s what important to me.”

Izuku drummed his fingers once, twice, three times against the body of his crappy acoustic guitar bought secondhand (more like ninth-hand) from the tiny music shop tucked next to the konbini a few blocks down from his apartment, slumping his shoulders forward and letting out an irritated huff at the notebook on the floor in front of him. The familiar prick of tears at his eyes, partnered with the tingle in his nose that meant he was about to break down, only served to irritate him further, and before he thought it through, he shot his leg out to kick the notebook across the room.

“Write something happy, Izuku,” he muttered to himself a mocking voice that didn’t suit the polite boy his mother raised, flopping backwards until his head landed on his beanbag chair, his guitar laying across his chest. He gave a half-hearted, disjointed strum. “La la la, butterflies and unicorns, do doot doo.”

He stared up at his blank white ceiling for a while, glaring a bit at the sloppy design of glow-in-the-dark stars he would’ve taken down if they hadn’t molded themselves into the plaster by virtue of being up there for eleven years. He sighed again. I sound like him.

The realization was an unwelcome one, so he forced himself to sit up more in the beanbag chair and try to improvise a riff that didn’t sound entirely too depressing. It ended up…melancholy, at best. And that certainly didn’t help his wandering mind, which lately loved to wander right into the comforting arms of that specific kind of sadness. The kind that felt like a blanket, or sinking into a mattress, but more in the way that you were resigned to it than enjoying it.

Or just back to him.

“And I knew how you took your coffee and your favorite songs by heart,” he murmured to a tune, letting his mind tune out for a rare moment in his life, “I read all of your self-help books so you’d think that I was smart. Stupid, emotional, obsessive little me.” Another breath. “I knew from the start this is exactly how you’d leave.”

He was interrupted by a soft knock on his bedroom door, making him stop playing and glance up, momentarily disoriented. He cleared his throat and sniffled a bit, glad he hadn’t started crying yet. “Come in.”

The door cracked open to reveal his mother, dressed in her nightgown and a worried look. “Hey, honey. You going to sleep soon?”

He did his best to muster up a smile. “Yeah, in a few minutes.”

“Okay,” his mother answered, obviously hesitant to leave him alone in the way her hand remained on the door, eyes scanning him up and down like she’d find any physical evidence of the ending of a relationship her son hadn’t even told her he’d been in. As far as she knew, he was just growing apart with an old friend. “Are you doing alright?”

His fake smile faltered, but he forced himself to perk up a bit. “Yeah, mom, I’m good.”

“Okay,” she repeated, not looking or sounding very convinced, “Good night, Izuku. I love you.”

“Good night, mom,” he responded, “I love you too.”

She closed the door, but her shadow underneath only left a few moments later, and when the lights outside flicked off Izuku set his guitar aside and shoved himself out of the beanbag chair and into his bed.

He was fine.

“Deku-kun!”

Izuku slowed his walk, glancing behind him to find a smiling girl with short brown hair jogging up beside him. She was wearing the UA uniform, and Izuku hated the fact that his heart sunk when he saw her. None of this had anything to do with Uraraka, and she didn’t deserve any negative feelings from him just because he happened to know her through his ex – or more like through his ex abandoning him at every chance and her being the only one kind enough to talk to the random quirkless kid that appeared every so often.

“There you are!” Uraraka exclaimed when she reached him, clapping him on the shoulder with a grin, “You went and disappeared for a while there!”

“Yeah, I..,” Izuku started nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, “I took a different way to school for a bit. Just because.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Uraraka responded coolly, making him deflate a little with the lack of questioning, “I’m glad you’re back though, I was starting to get a little worried.”

Izuku felt himself start to fluster a bit, simultaneously taken aback by the sentiment. “You did?”

“Yeah!” Uraraka answered, “Didn’t help that Bakugou totally blew up on me when I asked. No pun intended.”

And there goes the happy feeling. “Oh.”

“He’s an ass,” Uraraka grumbled, mostly to herself. She suddenly jolted up straight and clapped her hands together. “Anyways! I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime?”

This conversation was a damn roller coaster for Izuku at the moment, and he hoped to god that he didn’t show it on his face despite that being unlikely. A friendly person asking him to hang out in a friendly way like they were friends. He was…making friends. Or maybe being made friends with, he felt very passive in this situation. That probably wasn’t the best way to become a friend but he’d never really done this before, give him a little adjustment time.

“Deku-kun?”

Izuku blinked a few times and realized he’d just completely ignored proper conversation etiquette in favor of a miniature internal freak out. “Sorry. Uh…sure, what do you mean?”

“Well,” Uraraka grinned, “we got our hero licenses recently – or at least most of us did, so we were thinking we could have a little celebration or something!”

Roller coaster on the down-curve again. Kacchan got his hero license and Izuku didn’t even know.

He shook his head a tiny bit. He had to stop focusing on him and start focusing on himself. And his new friend! “Congratulations!” he smiled, “But, uh…who’s ‘we’?”

“That got our licenses?” Uraraka clarified, not giving Izuku time to correct her, “Everyone in the class but Bakugou and Todoroki. They got into a fight or something and screwed themselves over. Fighting during the exam, can you believe it?”

What.

“N-no, I meant, uh,” Izuku tried to say over another internal freak out, “I meant the celebration thing.”

“Oh, just me, Tsuyu-chan, and Iida-san!”

Izuku hardly knew who those people were, but maybe this would be good for him. “O-okay.”

“Great!” Uraraka exclaimed, “Let me get your number so I can text you details!”

Izuku complied, listing off his phone number as Uraraka plugged it into her flip phone, then gave him a cheery goodbye as she jogged off down a different block towards UA. Meanwhile, Izuku did his best to recover from whatever that was before he got to his own school. Kacchan didn’t have his hero license yet. Kacchan failed the exam. He got into a fight with Endeavor’s son and failed the licensing exam. And Izuku just got invited to a friend thing. What the hell.

Despite all that, he went through his school day as normal until he eventually ended up in the music room during club hours, meeting with the school’s band club that he’d joined impulsively after the breakup. He’d probably never had gotten the confidence to do so under normal circumstances, but something in his emotional turmoil convinced him it was a good idea. In the end…it kind of was?

“So!” Narumi, a girl with hair made of literal infinitely flowing water with roots of sand, chirped, gaining the attention of the very small group of high schoolers – there were only four of them in total. As one might’ve guessed, they were very happy to have Izuku on board. “I’ve got an announcement to make!”

She paused almost long enough for it to get awkward, until finally Izuku realized she was waiting for some kind of response and said, “What?”

“I got us a gig!” Narumi exclaimed, grinning wide. Izuku felt his heart skip a beat. “It’s at the local music festival, if you can believe it! We’re one of the opening acts for, you know, the actual more famous bands.”

“Fun,” the other girl in the group deadpanned. Fukui, who’d chopped her purple hair into a mullet and who’s quirk lent her an extra set of arms – very helpful for drumming.

“Wait, like actual famous people?” the fourth member of the group asked, a boy named Asa with a quirk that gave him the mildest of super strengths and not much else. And then there was Izuku, the plain old quirkless one.

“They’re known around the prefecture and stuff,” Narumi shrugged, “We’re not opening for Ado or anything, but it’s still cool.”

“Wait…,” Izuku said, raising his hand a bit, “does that mean…who’s gonna be the lead singer?”

Narumi gave him a look and a tiny sigh. “You, obviously. You’re the best singer here!”

Izuku felt his face flush red. “Oh. And…how many people come to this thing?”

“I don’t know, a couple hundred or something,” Narumi mused, “it’s not a terribly huge stage.” She smiled at him, an attempt at calming or comfort. It did not help. “You’ll do great, Midoriya-san.”

“We probably only got this because of you, man,” Asa commented, making Izuku more embarrassed, “Takata-sensei didn’t think we were shit until you joined.”

“I’m not-I didn’t,” Izuku stuttered, “I’m not anything special.”

“No one likes humble people,” Fukui said, poking his shoulder with one of her hands. He blinked at her.

“I thought…you were supposed to be humble.”

“Not when you’re talented,” Fukui muttered, “then it’s just annoying.”

Izuku stared at her for a second longer, then tried, “Thank you? And…sorry?”

“Anyways,” Narumi said, drawing their attention back to her again, “the gig means we have to make a setlist and practice! Any suggestions?”

“Asa-kun’s songs are cool,” Fukui said, twirling drumsticks in two of her hands. Asa perked up a bit at the compliment, his chest puffing.

“Thanks, Fukui-chan!” That earned him a drumstick to the head. “Ow!”

“Don’t hit each other!” Narumi admonished.

“It’s Fukui-san,” Fukui snapped as Asa rubbed his head and pouted at her.

“But you let Narumi-chan call you that,” he frowned, receiving another light whack for the comment. Izuku stifled a laugh and didn’t miss the darkened color of Fukui’s ears.

“Shut up.”

Asa snickered, then jolted his hand up to block another drumstick.

“Fukui-chan!” Narumi scolded, “This is not productive!” Fukui huffed, crossing both sets of arms across her chest as Asa chuckled again, and Izuku just sat by them and enjoyed the feeling of something trivial and happy, even if he wasn’t quite a part of it.

“Okay, okay, back to the songs,” Asa said, “I was meaning to ask Midoriya-san something.”

Izuku, not expecting to be brought into the conversation, blinked at him in surprise. “Me?”

“Yeah!” Asa grinned at him, “You write songs, right?”

“I-what-uh,” Izuku spluttered, “How did you…I mean kind of? They’re not that good, though. I just…scribble words.”

“What else are you supposed to do?” Asa pointed out, leaning back on the choir bleachers.

“That’s so cool that you write!” Narumi exclaimed, her hair swishing and gurgling with her excited movements. Izuku sometimes wondered if you could put fish in it and keep them alive there. “Would you ever share any of them?”

Izuku froze like a deer in headlight, swallowing nervously. “Uh…maybe? Not…not right now, though.”

“That’s okay,” Narumi assured him, “Right now, we should start practicing!”

Uraraka texted him the next morning about meeting up that day after school, which his mother seemed very happy to hear about. Izuku was…feeling quite a mess of emotions, but he tried to shove out the anxiety and dread and just look forward to a new experience. New friends were good, even if they were from the hero course. And they all already knew he was quirkless, so that hopefully wouldn’t be an issue.

Unfortunately for him, though, Uraraka asked him to meet her and her friends outside of UA, and he was too awkward and anxious to make up an excuse as to why that was not possible. So there he was, walking down the sidewalk right by UA high school, keeping his head down and eyes locked on the ground until he made it to the entrance and leaned up against the wall. To keep himself occupied, he hummed the song he’d been practicing with the band the hour before, and eventually started miming the chords on an invisible guitar.

“There he is!”

Izuku’s eyes shot open and he jolted out of his relaxed position, whipping around until he spotted Uraraka waving at him from the entrance to the school. Next to her were two other students in UA uniforms, one with long, deep green hair and huge eyes, the other a tall boy with broad shoulders and glasses.

“Good to see ya, Deku-kun!” Uraraka greeted when they reached him, “This is Tsuyu-chan and Iida-kun, my classmates!”

“I, uh,” he cleared his throat and bowed awkwardly, “nice to meet you formally.”

“The feeling is mutual, Deku-san!” Iida practically yelled, startling him half out of his mind.

“Yes, kero,” Tsuyu added, and only then did all the frog-like features make sense. It was a quirk, of course. He bit his tongue to stop himself from launching into a thousand questions about just how frog-like the girl was.

“Th-thanks,” he managed, “and, uh, my real name is Midoriya Izuku. But you can call me Deku if you want.”

“Midoriya-san would be most respectful,” Iida announced, like that was anything to announce. Izuku smiled a bit nonetheless. Kindness was kindness, no matter how forceful or loud, and he could use a little more kindness at the moment.

“FUCK ALL THE WAY OFF, ICY-HOT.”

Izuku felt his heart plumet into the depths of hell, but despite how much he knew he’d regret it, he couldn’t stop himself from whirling around to the find the source of the familiar voice. It was like an instinct, not a choice, and he hated it. He hated it even more when his eyes landed on spiky, ash-blonde hair and mess of a school uniform, and it only got worse from there.

Kacchan was standing with three other people outside of a bus, and one of them had an arm around his shoulder. A girl with bleached blonde, pin straight hair, holding up a phone to snap a picture of the two of them, and instead of shoving her away, Kacchan just glared at the camera and hip-checked her off of him. The massive guy behind the two of them, wearing a Shiketsu uniform like the girl, laughed loudly and clapped the fourth person, Todoroki, on the shoulder, making him stumble forward a bit.

“Deku-kun, what’s up?”

Izuku didn’t turn to look at Uraraka behind him when he flatly asked, “Who’s that?”

“Oh, that’s the remedial squad. They all failed the licensing exam and have to take a make-up course together.”

Kacchan said something Izuku couldn’t quite make out, face contorted into its usual scowl. Then the girl waved her hand about casually and made another comment, and Kacchan laughed.

He laughed. One hand going up to cover his mouth, the other to hug his side as he laughed so hard he nearly doubled over, while the Shiketsu girl stood off to the side and looked very pleased with herself.

Kacchan looked happy, and Izuku felt his blood run hot. Half of him wanted to stalk right over and punch his shitty ex-everything in the face, the other half wanted to break down in tears right then and there. He did neither, thankfully.

“Midoriya-san, are you alright?” Iida asked, “You’ve been staring for quite some time, which-”

“Sorry,” Izuku interrupted, drawing in a sharp breath and forcing himself to turn away from Kacchan, “sorry, but I just remembered my mom wanted me to get groceries tonight, and I don’t have much time before the store closes. I’ll have to do this another time.” He sounded about as apologetic as a robot, but it was all he had in him not to sob at the moment. He gave a small bow for good measure. “I really am sorry about this. Thank you for inviting me.”

“Oh,” Uraraka said, frowning with brows furrowed, “okay…well, I’ll see you later then, Deku-kun.”

“Yes, bye,” he answered curtly, nodding at the three of them before booking it down the sidewalk in the least I’m-escaping-from-my-ex way he could imagine. He only took a full breath when he was sure he was out of sight, making a split-second decision to head for the park because he knew his mother would ask questions if he came home earlier than expected.

Kacchan had new friends. Kacchan had a new…girlfriend? Whatever she was, he was comfortable with her, and she made him laugh. Kacchan used to never laugh, and when he did, it was with Izuku. He didn’t much like to be touched, except by Izuku on certain occasions, he hardly smiled, and he never laughed. But Izuku had just watched all of those things happen.

The fact was plain and simple and painfully in his face; Kacchan had moved on.

It took him three and a half fucking weeks to just find someone new. Three and half fucking weeks to replace Izuku, who’d been following him since they were four damn years old. Three and a half fucking weeks to get over what he had claimed to be love, and Izuku was the only one heartbroken about any of this.

Izuku sat down on a bench and ripped his notebook out of his bag, flipping it to the first blank page he could find and beginning to scribble down words without much thought. Just the instincts and feelings.

Good for you, Kacchan.

The next time he had band practice, Izuku presented his song. He didn’t want to perform it in the show, he hardly wanted to share it all, but he wanted to play it. He wanted to sing it, desperately hoping it would give him some sort of release when he did. His bandmates didn’t question him, thankfully, though there were a few concerned or confused looks sent his way that he didn’t miss.

They thought it was a good song, though, which was surprising. And they thought the same about the few other songs he worked up the courage to share with them. He did get the impression that they were slightly concerned for his mental health upon seeing them, but that was an entirely fair assessment. He would agree with them. He’d been avoiding rescheduling a hangout with Uraraka for weeks now, far past long enough for it to be incredibly rude, just so he didn’t have to come across Kacchan again.

Feeling a little guilty for that, he decided to invite her to the music festival so she could see the show. Thankfully, she seemed elated at the prospect and promised to come. It made Izuku happy that he still had a chance at a friendship with her despite his screw-ups.

Speaking of friendships, he also got the feeling that sharing things with his bandmates – and dramatically increasing the amount of time they spent together as their show approached – made him feel quite a bit closer with the three of them than he thought he would. Narumi seemed like the kindest person to ever exist, Fukui obviously had a crush on her and was trying to be cool about it, and Asa was cheerily along for the ride and happy to drag Izuku in with him. He found that he actually enjoyed spending hours with them after school.

He got so close with them, in fact, that when Narumi invited him over to her house to prep for the show a few hours before it started, he felt excitedly nervous instead of anxiously full of dread. It was quite a nice feeling, actually.

“You would look so good with earrings, Midoriya-kun.”

Izuku smiled at her nervously from his seat on the carpet in Narumi’s bedroom. He’d never been in a girl’s bedroom before. “Oh…you think so?”

“Absolutely!” Narumi exclaimed, jumping to her feet and moving to shuffled through her desk drawers, “Look, you can wear these!” She turned around and presented him with a few different kinds of gold clip-ons, from studs to tiny rings to chains. His eyes widened a bit.

“You’d totally look badass,” Fukui agreed nonchalantly from Narumi’s bed where she sat using one hand to hold up a mirror and another two to do her makeup.

“Like a real rockstar,” Asa agreed, adjusting the tune of his electric guitar.

“I’m not…not really a rockstar,” Izuku said, the excitedly nervous feeling returning to his chest. He seriously wasn’t used to this.

“Not yet you aren’t!” Narumi grinned, plopping herself down in the floor in front of him and holding out her hand with the clip-ons in it. “Pick some.” Izuku, too out of his element to really say anything, just pointed to a few random earrings and shrugged. “Great!”

“We should just cover you in jewelry,” Fukui suggested, “and cool makeup, like an idol.”

“Why me?” Izuku asked, then sucked in a sharp breath as Narumi leaned in close to clip the fake earrings on. Her hands were cold, and he was incredibly warm.

“Because!” Asa said, “You’re the lead, dude!”

Izuku had no idea what to say to that. He’d never been good with compliments, seeing as for most of his life the only person he received them from was his mother. “Oh.”

“I think eyeliner would look great on you!” Narumi chirped, finally finishing with all the earrings – Izuku was pretty sure he didn’t point to that many, but he didn’t say anything to stop her – and leaning away, allowing him to start breathing properly again. She narrowed her eyes at him like he was being inspected. “How do you feel about your clothes?”

“What?”

She waved a hand and stood up again. “Nothing crazy, I actually kind of like the cool nerd look you have going on right now.”

Izuku glanced down at his random pair of basketball shorts and slightly oversized All Might t-shirt, wondering what the hell she meant. “Thanks?”

“Here, try this on,” she said, tossing something back at him from her. He didn’t catch it, just flailed his arms a bit as it hit him in the face. When he did get ahold of the item, it turned out to be a black jean jacket with gold buttons that matched his earrings. “Then come up here if you want me to do your eyeliner!”

Izuku blinked up at her, then shook his head a bit and got to his feet, slipping on the jacket and plopping himself into the chair at Narumi’s desk. “Uh…okay.”

“Hell yeah!” Asa encouraged, pumping his fist, “We’re gonna look so cool.”

An hour or so later, the group had piled themselves into the train with their guitars and keyboard piano lent from the school and finally arrived at the festival stage to set up their stuff. They were on after a different school’s band, and Izuku was starting to feel his normal anxiety again. The pit of dread in his stomach, am I going to throw up, why can’t I stop shaking my leg type. He’d never sung in front of anyone that wasn’t his mom or Kacchan before the band, and he’d certainly never sung in front of more than a hundred people at once. So this was…a lot.

“Hey, Midoriya-kun, you good? You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

Izuku glanced behind him to find Fukui watching him from her seat, fiddling with her drumsticks as Asa and Narumi worked on making sure they wouldn’t have any technical difficulties. He took in a shaky breath. “I’ve never really…done something like this before.”

Fukui made a humming noise, nodding her chin at him. “You’ll do fine.”

He tried for a smile. “I hope so.”

“I’m serious, dude,” she said, “Your singing is amazing. And the songs you write are awesome, even if you don’t want to sing ‘em in front of crowds and shit.”

“Oh,” Izuku said, taken aback and not sure how to respond, “thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Fukui said, tossing her drumstick in the air and getting out of her seat, “just…do your best or something. I don’t know.”

“Sure thing,” Izuku muttered, bouncing his leg up and down again. I can do this. I’ll do great.

Or at least I won’t screw up too badly.

“Midoriya-kun! Get over here, we’re up soon!”

I hope.

As soon as the band onstage had finished their set and said their farewells to the cheering crowd, it was their turn, and Izuku found himself being dragged onstage by Asa’s grip around his wrist. A microphone was shoved into his hand as he stared out at all the people and felt the heart palpitations begin. There. Were. So. Many. Directly in front of the stage was the standing room, spanning back to a drink bar near the front entrance of the theatre, but an upper floor with seats allowed for even more people to fit into the audience.

“Good evening everybody!” Narumi called into her own mic by the keyboard piano as Izuku forced himself into some breathing exercises, scanning the large group of people for reasons unknown. The crowd cheered back at them. “We are Collision Course from Horikoshi High School, and we are very excited to be here tonight!”

Right, yes, he’s excited to be here. This is very fun. He kept scanning the crowd, maybe in hopes to find Uraraka, but she was nowhere to be found. Maybe-

Izuku suddenly felt his heart stop beating, breath catching in his throat. Lo and fucking behold, standing in the crowd below and looking directly at him, was not Uraraka or her friends, but Kacchan. Next to him was the blonde girl from Shiketsu.

What.

The.

Fuck.

What the actual fuck was he doing here? With her, of all people – not that Izuku was one to make judgments on people he doesn’t know, but Kacchan hates things like this. And yet for her, apparently, he’d come to one.

Not for Izuku, though.

Izuku wasn’t important enough.

Izuku wasn’t worth improving for, trying for.

Without thinking, he whirled around to face his bandmates and motioned for them to stop playing what they had been about to start. They stopped, but gave him confused looks, and before he could chicken out, Izuku told them, “I want to do my song. The first one.”

Narumi and Asa blinked at him in surprise, but Fukui just smirked at him and shrugged. “Alright.”

“Wait, you’re serious?” Narumi whispered at him.

“Yes,” Izuku whispered back, solid in his choice. There was some unfamiliar burning sensation in his chest, and he needed to get it out. She paused for a second, then nodded slowly, and Izuku turned back around to face the crowd.

He met Kacchan’s eyes.

Here goes.

Chapter Text

Katsuki never wanted to come to some shitty concert on a Saturday night when he could and should be studying, and he’s still not quite sure Camie didn’t drug him to get him there, but there he was nonetheless. Standing in a crowd of far too many people as Camie danced her fucking head off beside him. He had no idea where Icy-Hot and Baldy had disappeared to, which was even more of a fucking mystery because it wasn’t like Yoarashi was a particularly small bastard.

For all he knew, the two of them were making out in the back alley. He didn’t even have the words to describe that dynamic, but it was pretty obvious that Todoroki had thought about it. But still, fuck those two for abandoning him with Fish Lips. The band she was jamming out to wasn’t even that good, just some random high school shitheads who knew how to use an electric piano and probably thought autotune came built in with the microphones. Either that or this lead really thought she was the shit and was therefore delusional. Katsuki knew what a good singer sounded like.

Of course he fucking knew.

“Yo! Bakugou-kun!” Camie yelled at him over the poorly adjusted bass volume, “This is totally dope, right?”

He grimaced at her. “Fuck no.”

“Oh, come on, babe! Live a little!” she shouted, jumping up and down and flipped her hair around to the beat of the song. He couldn’t be fucking bothered, so he kept standing still, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the band on stage finally wind down to the end of their set.

“Thank you very much, Musutafu!” the lead singer shouted into the mic when she finished singing, making Katsuki cringe at the sheer volume and the responding cheers.

“There’s like seven hundred people here,” he muttered, “not the whole fuckin’ city.”

“We have been The Evening Riders!” another band member yelled.

“More like we have been terrible and annoying,” Katsuki muttered again, huffing in irritation.

“Are you making snide comments?” Camie asked, leaning into his space with a cheeky smile, “You’re such a, like, bad boy or whatever.”

“No, fuck off,” he snapped, shoving her shoulder to get her away. She giggled obnoxiously.

“I think you’re emo, babe,” she smirked at him, earning a growl, “It’s totally your vibe. Like, a hundred percent goth.”

“Emo and goth are different fucking things,” he corrected.

She raised a manicured eyebrow at him. “And now why would you know that, Mister My Chemical Romance or something?”

“Alright, shut the fuck up, Glitterbomb.”

“Someone’s in denial.”

“Good evening everybody!” a new voice called from the stage, stopping Katsuki from snapping back. this time was not ear-splittingly loud, which he appreciated. He turned his attention away from Camie and back to the stage to assess the new band.

And then he felt his stomach drop out of his ass. Right in front of him, center stage with his very own microphone and a posture that made him seem like he was trying to shrink into a tiny ball, was Deku. His green eyes flitted nervously around the large room, hands fidgeting at his sides – and was that fucking eyeliner he was wearing? And…earrings?

“We are Collision Course from Horikoshi High School, and we are very excited to be here tonight!” the first speaker exclaimed into her mic, a girl with hair made of water at the keyboard, who smiled brightly at the crowd.

Katsuki hardly heard her.

Deku was looking at him.

Deku was looking right at him, those big green eyes widening in a moment of surprise until, slowly, his expression morphed into one of…anger, maybe. His mouth formed into a hard line, his eyes digging into Katsuki’s rapidly beating heart. Katsuki had never imagined Deku looking at him like that. Admiration? Always. Hurt? Sometimes, but never with any finality behind it. But this? This was something he didn’t recognize. It made him feel pinned in place, frozen in time until Deku looked away, like the power of those green eyes alone was enough to stop him.

He hated that. He always had.

Suddenly, Deku turned around again, having whispered something Katsuki didn’t even try to hear to his bandmates as the crowd waited with bated breath, and those harsh green eyes were back on his.

The girl on the piano had switched to a bass, which she started playing in a low, staccato beat that for some reason filled Katsuki with dread. Or maybe it was that Izuku was still staring at him with the unreadable expression, and he was starting to get the feeling it was something bordering on hatred.

And then Deku started to sing. Soft, quiet, and dark.

“Well good for you, I guess you moved on really easily, you found a new girl and it only took a couple weeks, remember when you said that you wanted to give me the worrrrlld?”

The kid on the guitar started strumming quietly at the same time the drummer started up, and Katsuki felt the dread solidify and pit in his stomach.

“And good for you, I guess that you’ve been workin’ on yourself,” Deku sang, his voice filled with that strong emotion that always used to drag Katsuki in, an angst backed by a slight gravelly tone in the back of his throat. “I guess that therapist I found for you, she really helped, now you can be a better man for your brand new giiirrrl.”

He sounded like someone who’d spent his voice crying, but incredible and mesmerizing all the same.

The low beats and strumming crescendo, and the drums drop-kicked the song into a chorus that felt like a punch in the gut. And Deku belted it out with all his might.

“Well, good for you, you look happy and healthy, not me, if you every cared to ask!” he sang, somehow yelling while perfectly in the melody of the song, “Good for you, you’re doin’ great out there without me, baby, god I wish that I could do that!”

Katsuki wasn’t an idiot, no matter how it may seem.

“I’ve lost my mind, I’ve spent the night, cryin’ on the floor of my bathroom!” Deku yelled, squeezing his eyes shut as he dipped the mic stand to the side, then brought it back up and sang directly at Katsuki again, “But you’re so unaffected, I really don’t get it! But I guess, good for you!”

He knew this was about him.

“Well good for you, I guess you’re getting everything you want,” Deku crooned into the mic, no longer yelling, glaring out at the crowd like he needed a break from Katsuki’s face. His golden earrings caught in the spotlights, momentarily blinding. “You bought a new car and your career’s really takin’ off, it’s like we never even happened baby –” he side-eyed Katsuki with a look that made his blood run cold “– what the FUCK. Is up. With that?”

Deku turned back towards him all the way, gripping the mic with one hand as he went from singing to almost talking, his voice a little breathy as he built up again. “And good for you, it’s like you never even met me, remember when you swore to god I was the only, person who ever got you? Well screw that, and screw you! YOU WILL NEVER HAVE TO HURT THE WAY YOU KNOW THAT I DO!”

He closed his eyes and gripped the mic with both hands as he belted his way into the next chorus, swinging it to the side and dipping it down again. “Well good for you, you look happy and healthy, not me, IF YOU EVER CARED TO ASK! Good for you, you’re doin’ great out there without me, baby, god I wish that I could do that!” He swung the mic stand back up again, stomping one sneaker-clad foot on the stage as the crowd screamed with cheers Katsuki was sure he didn’t even notice. “I’ve lost my mind, I’ve spent the night, cryin’ on the floor of my bathroom! But you’re so unaffected, I really don’t get it! But I guess, GOOD FOR YOU!”

The drumbeat stopped for a second, allowing for the guitarist and bassist to riff until the drum started up even faster, and the sudden break in Deku’s singing snapped Katsuki out of his frozen trance. He shouldn’t be here. Deku was on stage, screaming at him in front of a crowd full of people, and he just needed to leave. Now.

Without a word to Camie or another glance at Deku, he forced himself to turn around and start trying to push his way through the ecstatic, manic crowd of people Deku had enchanted with his voice.

The quiet screech of a microphone through the music on stage made him freeze, and he glanced behind him to find that Deku had ripped the wireless mic off the stand and jumped offstage into the crowd. The parted for him like the goddamn Red Sea, and the music quieted as he began to sing again, voice back to the soft, mesmerizing, hurt cadence.

“Maybe I’m too emotional, but your apathy’s like a wound in salt,” Deku sang, low and dangerous as he continued his approach, “Maybe I’m too emotional, or maybe you never cared at all.”

Someone in the crowd had a vendetta against him, because Katsuki found himself being shoved forward and past Deku, who immediately turned and started backing him towards the stage. He felt his hands spark with unwelcome sweat as he stumbled over his boots, Deku staring him down despite being shorter, with harsh eyes that didn’t fit Katsuki’s memories at all. His singing slowly got louder.

“Maybe I’m too emotional, but you’re apathy’s like a wound in salt.” There were tears in his eyes. “Maybe I’m too emotional, or maybe you never cared at all!”

He was inches away from Katsuki’s face now, and Katsuki almost felt inclined to respond. To correct him, for some reason. But…he was right, wasn’t he?

“Well good for you, you look happy and healthy,” Deku sang, looking Katsuki up and down as his back hit the stage edge. Why was this attractive. Was this attractive? “Not me, if you ever cared to ask. Good for you, you’re doing great out there without me, baby.”

Katsuki’s heart was thudding against his ribcage, and he found himself unable to breath properly as Deku screamed the next line from his chest and directly into Katsuki’s. “LIKE A DAMN SOCIOPATH!”

He took a step back, tears running down his freckled cheeks as his face contorted in anger. “I’ve lost my mind, I’ve spent the night, cryin’ on the floor of my bathroom!” Another step back. “But you’re so unaffected, I really don’t get it. But I guess, good for you.”

A pause as his bandmates continued playing on stage, then Deku look Katsuki right in the eyes, his chest heaving as he panted. “Well good for you, I guess you moved on really easily.”

He dropped his hand with the mic in it to his side, still breathing heavily, and Katsuki barely registered the screaming people around them. Only Deku, staring at him, crying, chest shaking with each breath until he tore his gaze away and stalked back up onstage. Katsuki still didn’t move. He just stood there, dumbfounded, as the crowd surging towards the stage jostled him around, eventually landing him in Camie’s waiting acrylic grasp.

“O.M.G., Bakugou-kun,” she squealed, one hand latched onto his bicep as she dragged him out of the fray and to a slightly less chaotic area, “That was like, so cool! He totally just did that! This kid is lit!”

Katsuki shook his head in an attempt to clear it, jerking his arm out of the she-devil’s grasp and raking his hand through his hair. “What the fuck,” he hissed to himself, turning around to face the stage again. Deku had clipped the mic back into his stand and was now having some whispered conversation with his bandmates. He kept shaking his head and waving his hands around, like they were trying to convince him of something he didn’t want to do.

Meanwhile, the audience still had yet to shut the hell up. Whatever the fuck that performance had been had obviously made them fall for Deku hard, and now they were begging for more.

But Katsuki was just left with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He kind of wanted to puke.

Not to mention, what the hell had even happened? How in the world did he just let Deku do that? That was fucking humiliating!

I deserved it.

He shook his head again to clear his thoughts.

“Speechless, huh?” Camie commented with an infuriating smile, and he glared at her with venom.

“Shut the fuck up, Fish Face,” he growled, turning to look for an exit, “I’m leaving.”

“Whaaaat?” Camie whined, “No, babes, c’mon! Don’t get all embarrassed, I bet everyone here is, like, jealous of you now.”

Katsuki clenched his jaw hard enough to snap something. “I’m not fuckin’ embarrassed. And I’m leaving, whether you come with or not.”

“Fine then, party pooper,” Camie said, click her tongue, “See ya later, I guess. I’ll film the rest of this hot guy’s show for you.”

Katsuki booked it.

He slept like shit, and he woke up to the worst possible thing – a string of text messages from the remedial squad groupchat, mostly from Camie. Instead of checking them, Katsuki shoved his phone into his desk drawer and went about his day as normal. Not thinking about Deku, not thinking about that damn song, and not bothered by either of those topics in the slightest. He was hero course student trying to get his damn license, he didn’t have time or brain bandwidth to agonize over Deku. That’s why he’d ended things in the first place.

Distractions led to failure, and Deku was one.

At the twentieth buzz from his phone in the span of five minutes, Katsuki finally ripped his drawer open and opened his messages, fully planning to tell them all to shut the fuck up then mute the chat. And then he got caught up in reading what they’d been talking about. He scrolled all the way up to the messages from earlier that morning.

🔥🧊💥✨💨

camiiieee: OMG bkg-kun, u totally missed out last nite

camiiieee: lemme find the vid it was lit 🔥

Shouto: where did you go, anyways?

GALEFORCE: You missed out on a very fun evening, Bakugou-san!

camiiieee: found it! here u go, watch!! 🤩

[camiiieee uploaded a video]

Katsuki stared at the video thumbnail for a second, a shaky still frame of Deku at the microphone, singing something with his eyes closed. He scrolled past it before he chanced making the stupid decision to watch it.

camiiieee: that band was dope, all their songs were bangers 4 sure

Shouto: what’s a “banger”?

camiiieee: it’s like a lit song or wtvr!!

Shouto: oh. then yes, their songs were “bangers”.

GALEFORCE: YES! I agree!! (though I also did not know what that word meant, Todoroki-kun)

camiiieee: that first 1 was the best tho. good 4 u or smthng

camiiieee: still cant believe bkg got like…serenaded or wtvr

Katsuki scowled at his phone. He would hardly call that “serenading”. It felt more like a threat.

Shouto: it felt like the singer was mad at him though.

Thank you, Todoroki.

Wait, why the hell was he agreeing with fucking Half-n-Half now. Fuck.

camiiieee: i guess?? still hot tho

camiiieee: n e ways, the other bands were fire 2

What followed was a shit-ton of spam from Camie, mostly images and videos of the other parts of the show she thought she should document and annoy him with, then a short saga of Yoarashi being unable to turn caps locks off. He eventually figured it out, and Katsuki wished that could work with him in real life.

After confirming that nothing of interest was happening – which he could’ve guessed –, he tossed his phone on his bed and set himself back to work on all the catching up he had to do in the classes he missed because of remedial practice. There was no way in hell he was falling behind his shithead classmates while hanging out with idiots like Fish Face and Baldy who could barely spell their own names.

He was actually able to get a lot a work done by the end of the day, and by the time dinner was over he’d fully brushed off the whole “incident”. It was just some freak coincidence, it didn’t mean it’d ever happen again or have any effect on him going forward. It was Deku getting some anger out, nothing more.

At least, that’s what he thought until his phone lit up with a message from none other than Kirishima.

RedRiot: Hey dude, thought I should send you this before you found out some worse way…

[RedRiot uploaded a link]

Katsuki frowned, opened the link, and felt his heart stop dead in his chest. The link was to a video some extra had posted on a Twitter, and when Katsuki clicked play, it ended up being a film from start to finish of the “incident”, taken from the upper part of the theatre for perfect viewing capabilities. The sound quality was shitty, but Deku’s talent was loud and clear. That was irrelevant, though. The problem was that the cameraperson had zoomed in during the final parts of the song, getting a clear shot of Deku pinning a startled Katsuki to the edge of the stage. It was clearly him. His face. Center fucking screen.

The tweet had 673.9 thousand likes and counting. In the second Katsuki stared at it, it actually went up to 674 thousand. It was viral. The caption was “holy fucking shit!!”.

Katsuki chucked his phone across the room and screamed.

--

Izuku still felt like he was in a bit of a trance, unable to fully process what had happened last night and not very willing to accept that it had. Because there was no way he, Midoriya “Deku” Izuku, had willingly screamed the breakup song he wrote for himself in front of a crowd of hundreds, right into Kacchan’s face. He’d cried. He’d gotten inches away from the ex-love of his life, yelled at him for being fucked up, and cried, all during a live performance.

And then he’d just…moved on to the next song. His bandmates had tried to convince him to sing another of his own songs, but he’d decided he’d run their show enough off the rails as it was. Besides, Kacchan had disappeared after Izuku’s little “moment”.

He had no idea what had come over him – both to start singing the song in the first place, or to jump off the stage and force Kacchan not to leave. All he remembered was a burning in his chest, in his throat, in his head, and the visceral need to have Kacchan hear the entire song. He needed Kacchan to know how he made him feel. Maybe he thought it would give him some sense of closure.

In a tiny way, it had kind of felt good? Not quite the cathartic release he’d been searching for, but it sure as hell wasn’t nothing. You don’t scream all the salt in your heart into your ex’s face without feeling some sort of vindication, apparently.

Not to say that Izuku was a particularly vengeful person, but, after he’d cried about it all for a good hour, thinking back to Kacchan’s shocked, almost scared expression did make him feel a certain way he wasn’t necessarily proud of. A tiny smile danced across his lips as he stared up at his ceiling.

It’s just karma, I guess.

A knock on his door startled him upright and out of his thoughts, accidentally kicking his guitar as he swung his legs off his bed. He cringed.

“Izuku?”

“Coming, mom!” he called back, hopping over his guitar – he probably shouldn’t leave it on the ground, that was the problem – and opening his door to smile at his mother. “Good morning!”

She looked a little taken aback at his enthusiasm, which he supposed should tell him something, but quickly fixed her face into a smile in return. “Good morning, honey,” she said, “I take it your show last night went well?”

Izuku’s smile faltered and he cleared his throat, then shrugged and made his way into the kitchen. “Yeah, I guess!”

“Again, I’m so sorry I couldn’t come,” his mother said, following him as he started thinking about what to make himself for breakfast, “Those things are just too much for me! You came home so late!”

“It’s fine, mom, I get it,” he assured, infinitely glad that she hadn’t been there. He went to grab a slice of bread to make himself some toast, but his mother stopped him.

“Oh, honey, don’t make yourself anything!” He turned around and gave her a questioning look, and she gave him a proud smile. “You and I are going out to eat.”

He blinked at her in surprise. “Really?” They hadn’t gone out to a restaurant in…he could hardly remember a time they had. It had always been too expensive, or just easier to make something at home.

“Yup!” his mother chirped, rubbing his shoulder and giving him a teary look, “Because I’m proud of you for putting yourself out there.”

Izuku felt a warmth in his chest for the first time in weeks. “Thanks, mom.”

A few hours later, Izuku and his mother were well-fed and happily strolling around the city streets. Izuku was remembering just how much he loved his mom and spending time with her, a thing he hadn’t really done in far too long. She asked him lots of questions about the concert, and he told her about everything but the “screaming at Kacchan” situation, and plenty about his bandmates, who she called “all your new friends”. She really wanted to meet them. That also helped his mood a good amount.

“Oh, honey, look!” his mother said, stopping in front of a clothing store with mannequins dressed like idols in the window display, “What do you say about a little shopping trip? We haven’t done that in a while!”

“Shopping trip?” Izuku asked, surprised yet again, “Mom, did something else happen?”

“I already said, it’s because you had your first show!” his mom exclaimed, though he saw the hesitance in her smile for a split-second. He frowned at her.

“Mom.”

She stared back at him for a second, then let out a breath and waved her hand. “Okay, okay, the truth is that your father got a promotion, so we have a little extra money to spend.”

Izuku paused for a moment, wondering why she wouldn’t want to tell him that until the realization hit. “That means he’s not coming back anytime soon, is he.” It wasn’t a question.

His mother sighed. “No, honey, probably not.”

Izuku felt his heart sink a little as he turned to look at the mannequins in the window. But he didn’t want his good mood to leave, so he shook his head a bit and forced his smile back. He’d lived almost his whole life without his dad around, he didn’t need him to come back. He didn’t need him at all.

“Then we might as well spend his money!”

“That’s the spirit, Izuku,” his mother said, opening the door to the clothing store and leading him inside.

The next part of his day was spent being carted around a store he had no familiarity with, one far above his fashion sense, by his excitable mother who tossed items into his arms and pushed him into dressing rooms. He felt a little like a life-sized doll, but he had to admit that some of the outfits made him feel…nice. And it was great to see his mother happy, so he’d go along with even the outfits that made him cringe.

After showing her one outfit that he was pretty sure an actual celebrity would wear, he looked at himself in the mirror for long enough for the impulse to come. “Can I pierce my ears?” he blurted.

His mom blinked at him in surprise in the mirror reflection, then smiled wide. “Sure, honey, if you want to! As long as you take care of them so they don’t get infected.”

Izuku felt…good. For the first time in a while, he felt good about himself. “Thanks, mom.”

“Want to do it today?” his mother asked, collecting the pile of discarded items into her arms, “After we buy these things, we can take the bus down to the mall.”

Izuku grinned, then moved to change back into his normal clothes. “Sure!”

After changing, he met his mother at the checkout counter, where she was making friendly conversation with the cashier. She smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder when he got there. “Here he is! This is my son.”

“Uh,” Izuku said, not prepared to make conversation with a stranger, “yup, that’s me.”

The cashier gave him a strange look and he wondered if this was the day a stranger hit him for being too damn awkward. But instead of an insult, they said, “Hey, aren’t you that kid?”

He stared at them, thoroughly confused. “What kid?”

“They kid from the video!” the cashier explained without giving him any explanation at all, pulling their phone out of their pocket, fiddling around with it, then turning the screen to show him and his equally confused mother. “The singing kid! That’s you, right?”

Izuku felt the air leave his lungs as the cashier hit play on the video embedded in the tweet they’d pulled up, and he watched a blurry version of himself on stage last night come into focus. Oh dear god no.

“Well good for you, I guess you moved on really easily.”

Fuck!

“You found a new girl and it only took a couple weeks, remember when you said that you wanted to give me the worrrrlld?”

“Yup!” Izuku squeaked, quickly clicking pause on the video as his palms started to sweat, “That’s me, I guess. Funny…um, coincidence or something!” He tugged lightly on his mother’s dress sleeve. “We should go catch the bus, probably!”

She gave him a look. “Calm down, Izuku.” She addressed the cashier again. “Where’s the video from?”

FUCK!

The cashier, who gave Izuku a look that was only slightly apologetic, showed his mother the phone screen again. “Someone filmed him singing last night and posted it online. It got pretty big.”

“How big?” his mother asked, and Izuku braced himself for a few thousand views or something else terrible.

“I think it’s got about 600 thousand likes right now?”

Izuku’s brain overloaded and promptly shut down. WHAT.

SIX HUNDRED THOUSAND.

SIX.

HUNDRED.

THOUSAND.

FUCKING.

LIKES.

KILL HIM NOW. WHAT THE FUCK.

Chapter Text

Izuku was halfway to having a panic attack in the middle of the department store, his hands shaking violently as he slowly lowered himself to the ground in a squat. 600 thousand people had seen him sing that song. Had seen him lose his marbles and scream at Kacchan. Holy fucking shit.

“Is he okay?”

No, he was not.

“Izuku, honey,” his mother said quietly, kneeling down to meet his eyes and lightly grabbing his wrists, slowly to make sure it wouldn’t make the situation worse, “look at me.” He didn’t. “Izuku, look at me.”

He heaved in a deep breath and met his mother’s eyes.

“Who’s your favorite hero?”

He blinked at her, not understanding the question. “All Might.”

“And why is that?” his mother asked gently.

“Because…he saves people with a smile,” Izuku answered slowly, his eyes wandering until he finally remembered where he was. “Oh. Okay, I think I’m…I’m okay now.”

His mother smiled at him. “Good to hear, honey. Let’s stand up now.”

“Alright,” he agreed, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet and stabilized. The cashier gave him and incredibly guilty look.

“I am so sorry, kid, I thought you’d know,” they apologized with a bit of a bow.

“I, uh,” Izuku stuttered, “no, it’s fine, no need to apologize. I just wasn’t…that’s a lot of people.”

“You could try to get them to take it down if they didn’t get your permission,” the cashier suggested.

“I think the damage has already been done,” Izuku muttered to the floor. Six hundred thousand.

“Izuku,” his mother said quietly, rubbing up and down in his shoulder, “do you need to go sit down somewhere?”

“No,” Izuku responded, surprising himself with the decisiveness, “I’m okay.”

“You’re sure?” his mother asked, concerned. He still nodded.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said, taking in a deep breath, “600 thousand likes is 600 hundred thousand people that thought I did a good job, so…it’s…good.”

“You are incredibly talented,” the cashier added, and Izuku smiled despite himself.

“That’s…that’s very kind of you,” he managed with another shaky breath in. “Who knows, maybe this is our big break or whatever,” he said, an attempt at a joke. His mother gave him a bright smile in response.

“That’s what I like to hear,” she said, “Now, how about getting those ears pierced?”

Izuku grinned, shoulders back in his best try at confident posture. “Yep!”

Nothing wrong with a little universal karma, right?

--

Universal karma sucked ass, and Katsuki wanted to commit mass homicide of each and every one of his classmates that lovely Monday morning where they all decided staring at him was a good, safe choice.

“Good morn-”

“Fuck off,” Katsuki snapped, cutting off Mina’s sing-songy greeting. She just laughed.

“Why so snappy, Bakugou-san?” she asked, though the shit-eating grin on her face led him to believe she fucking knew why, “You look like you’re trying to burn your desk to ash with the force of your fiery gaze.”

He scowled at her. “What the hell, Bubblegum.”

“Yo, it’s Bakugou-kun!” another voice yelled, Kaminari announcing himself as he skidded through the doorway, “Our own viral class celebrity!”

“I don’t think he was the focus of that video,” Jirou muttered, coming in behind Pikachu. Had every single person seen that fucking cursed video?

“Yeah, it was for sure that rockstar guy who was yelling at you,” Kaminari agreed, lifting himself up to sit on top of his desk and grin at Katsuki, “What did you even do to him?”

“Uh, he obviously broke the singer’s heart,” Mina answered for him, and Katsuki whipped his head around to glare at her.

“How the fuck do you know he didn’t just decide to harass some random person in the crowd?” he snapped in his own defense, not quite a lie.

“You looked scared of him,” Mina commented, as if that helped her point or refuted Katsuki’s whatsoever.

“Ex-fucking-scuse you?” Katsuki growled, his palms popping with tiny explosion, “I ain’t scared of shit, especially not some…” He huffed. “Whatever.”

“Ooh, maybe he was flustered,” Kaminari crooned, wiggling his eyebrows, and Katsuki was out of his seat in seconds, slamming his hand down on the desk between Kaminari’s legs and grabbing him by the collar.

“You wanna fucking say that again?” he yelled as Pikachu’s eyes went wide and he shot his hands up to his sides in surrender.

“Nope!” he squeaked, “I said nothing! Please don’t kill me!”

“Bakugou-san, cut it out,” Aizawa-sensei snapped, walking through the doorway and taking his place behind the podium. Katsuki gave Kaminari one last growl and complied. “Kaminari-san, no sitting on desks.” He glared out at the whole class. “What are you all, five-year-olds? I expect more from the hero course.”

“Sorry, Aizawa-sensei,” the class muttered in unison. Katsuki was not looking forward to this day.

It got worse when he had to leave class for his remedial courses, because that meant seeing Camie, who had definitely seen the video and probably retweeted it to her thousands of followers. She ambushed him in the locker room, since none of the three boys gave a shit about her being in there and she’d probably wilt if she didn’t have someone’s attention on her for more than two seconds.

“Babes, cutie, please tell me you’ve seen this,” she said, shoving the phone in his face as he was trying to put his tank top on. He scowled at her and at the video.

“Yeah, I’ve fucking seen it,” he grumbled, shoving his tank top on all the way and grabbing his belt. “What about it?”

“What about it?” Camie repeated, aghast, “Bro, you’re famous! This is totes awesome!”

“I’m not fucking famous,” Katsuki snapped, “Deku is. Now leave me the fuck alone.”

She stared at him for a second, blinking like a fucking airhead. “Deku? Is that his name?”

Katsuki almost dropped on of his grenades. Fuck, he’d said that out loud. He glared at her. “You got a problem?”

“You know his name?” she gasped, bringing a hand to her leather-clad chest, eyes wide, “Oh my god, he’s actually your ex-boyfriend, isn’t he? You’re who that song is about?”

Katsuki slammed his locker door shut hard enough to shake it, tightening his belt strap and stomping away without another word. Camie, of course, just chased after him with a look of utter glee.

“I cannot believe this!” she squealed, “You, like, totally got burned by your ex! He wrote a song about you! O.M.G., this is wild. Todoroki-kun, get over here!”

Todoroki looked over from where he was talking to Yoarashi about something, giving Camie a questioning glance as she threw herself at him with another excited squeal. “What’s going on?”

“The guy from last night was totally Bakugou-kun’s ex-boyfriend!” she yelled far too loud, and Katsuki had half a mind to not explode her where she stood. “His name is Deku or something! Can you believe it? Bakugou-kun had a boyfriend!”

“That doesn’t seem like something to celebrate!” Yoarashi boomed, grating further on Katsuki’s nonexistent patience. “A breakup is sad!”

“All of you just shut the fuck up,” Katsuki growled, rubbing his temples.

“You had a boyfriend?” Todoroki asked, giving him a flat look. Katsuki flipped him off in response, and he hardly looked mildly offended at the action. Annoying bitch.

“Why’d you break up?” Camie asked.

“None of your fucking business, Glitterbomb,” Katsuki snapped, looking up to see Gang Orca finally arrive.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING STANDIN’ AROUND?” the pro-hero shouted, making all four of them cringe at the volume, “THINK YOU GOT TIME TO SLACK OFF?”

“No, sir!” they all yelled back.

“BECAUSE YOU DON’T!”

Katsuki would rather get screamed at by a walking killer whale all day than discuss his and Deku’s past with these idiots.

--

When Izuku got to band practice the next day, it quickly became obvious that everyone had seen the video some way or another, but Narumi still took the time to gush over his new piercings, which made him blush profusely. He still wasn’t used to this amount of positive attention.

“I’ll totally have to get you some earrings!” she gasped, shaking her hands around excitedly, “You’re such a pop star now.”

“Literally,” Fukui commented, holding up her phone with one of her hands and waving it a bit, “That video of us just hit two million views.”

Izuku immediately felt faint, slumping into one of the chairs and staring blanky at the floor. Two million. TWO MILLION. For All Might’s sake, what is this life. He was still ignoring Uraraka’s texts.

“We should jump on that chance,” Asa said with a smirk that made it clear he was only half-serious, “Get discovered.”

“By who?” Narumi asked, frowning. Asa shrugged.

“One of the two million people who’ve seen Midoriya-kun blow a whole crowd away.” Izuku barely blinked at his own name.

“You know what, screw it,” Fukui said, drawing their attention to her, “I’m making us an account and saying it’s us.”

“What?” Izuku squeaked pathetically as Narumi jumped out of her seat and moved to squeeze next to Fukui on the choir stands. Asa quickly joined her on the other side.

“Hell yeah, Collision Course is gettin’ famous,” he grinned.

“Only if they notice us,” Narumi corrected, “There’s already, like, a thousand replies.”

“How are you guys not freaking out about this?” Izuku managed, looking up at them.

Narumi shrugged. “I mean, most of the attention is on you and the whole…dramatically singing at an audience member type thing.” Izuku groaned, burying his head in his hands.

“Wait, I thought that was your ex-boyfriend or something, not some random guy,” Asa said, making him shoot upright again.

“What?” he almost shrieked, eyes wide, “He wasn’t-I mean…why does that matter!”

All three of his bandmates gave him disbelieving looks, and Fukui spoke first. “So, yeah, he was your ex-boyfriend.” Izuku groaned again and covered his face with his hands, wishing he could disappear. “I was wondering how you could hold such contempt for some rando, and you seemed pissed at blondie. Makes sense.”

“That’s totally badass, though,” Asa smirked, “You put him in his place or something. Sick.”

“I don’t even want to know what he did to deserve your wrath, of all things,” Narumi said, ocean blue eyes wide, “You’re practically the sweetest person ever.”

“I want to know what he did to deserve it,” Fukui muttered, still doing something on her phone, “but you don’t have to tell us.” Izuku didn’t know how to respond, and he was saved from having to by Fukui turning her phone screen around to show him a brand-new Twitter account. “There, Collision Course’s official account.”

Collision Course @cxllisioncourseband

Four teenagers making music

0 Following 0 Followers

“I want to see!” Narumi chirped, and Fukui turned the phone screen to show her. “Cool! Now reply to the video!”

“Wait, Midoriya-kun, you’re okay with this, right?” Asa asked, giving him a concerned look. Izuku appreciated the sentiment.

He took a deep breath. “Okay, sure.”

“Yay!” Narumi exclaimed, leaning over Fukui’s shoulder to look at her screen, “Okay, just write…uh, this is us! We’re called Collision Course, and that’s our lead singer Midoriya-kun.”

In an impulsive decision, which he’d been making a lot of lately, Izuku corrected her. “Deku.”

Narumi gave him a confused look. “What?”

“Uh,” Izuku said, fidgeting nervously with his hands, “Deku, not Midoriya.”

“Deku?” Asa repeated, “Isn’t that the nickname people used to bully you with in middle school?”

Izuku grimaced briefly. Right, he and Asa had gone to the same middle school. “Yeah, it is, but…” he trailed off, not sure how to go about explaining a reasoning he didn’t fully understand himself.

“You’re reclaiming it,” Fukui supplemented, and he glanced up to give her a smile.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Cool,” Fukui said, returning to her phone, typing something, then dropping it on her lap, “There we go, reply sent. Who knows if anything will happen with that.”

“This is exciting,” Narumi grinned, swinging her legs back and forth, “Let’s practice some songs now!”

“You got anything new, Midoriya-kun?” Asa asked him.

“Uh…I might,” Izuku answered sheepishly, “Not for sharing yet, though.”

“Fair enough!”

That evening, Izuku sat on the floor of his bedroom, legs crossed, guitar on his lap, notebook and pen on the carpet in front of him, just like he had a hundred night before. But this time, his focus was on his phone, which was replaying the video of his performance for what might have been the third time in the past fifteen minutes. Initially, it was embarrassing to watch, and he got too flustered to see it all the way through. But when he forced himself to keep going, he found himself…enraptured? Something about seeing that guy in the video, then glancing up at his mirror and realizing that that guy was him had him reeling with disbelief. The performance wasn’t embarrassing, it was kind of impressive, and being impressed with or proud of himself was not something he was used to.

With a huff, he shut his phone off and pushed himself to his feet to go get a glass of water, his mind wandering as he did. People used to say he was plain and boring, now everyone in the comments of the video were disagreeing. But what if they found out he was quirkless?

“Izuku?”

Izuku glanced over from where he was filling a cup with water in the sink to see his mother come out of her room, looking slightly concerned. “Yeah?”

She stared at him for a second, then sighed. “Can I talk to you for a moment, please?”

His chest constricted immediately. “Okay…” he said, shutting off the water tap and taking a sip in an attempt to help his dry throat.

“So,” his mother started, sitting at one of the chairs behind the counter and laying her hands on the marble tabletop, “I watched the whole video of your concert.”

Yup, there it is.

“I-um,” Izuku stuttered, searching wildly for any explanation. And then he realized his mother was crying. “Mom?” She sniffled, and he quickly set his cup down and went around the counter to hug her. “Crap, mom, I’m so sorry I didn’t say anything, I promise I wasn’t trying to lie, I just-”

“No, no, honey,” his mother sniffled, voice wavering as she reached up to pat his arm, “Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you. I promise. I’m only…” she sniffed again, wiping her eyes, “…I’m sad that I wasn’t there when you needed me. I don’t want you to hurt all by yourself.”

Now it was Izuku’s turn to tear up, sobs building in his throat. The Midoriya Curse. “Oh,” he warbled, swallowing thickly, “Okay.”

“Can you just…” his mother said, turning to face him and guiding him to sit in the seat next to her, “can you just be honest with me, Izuku? I know there are some things you might want to keep to yourself, but I want to make sure I don’t have the wrong impression here.”

Izuku nodded as his mother held his hands between them, taking a few shaky breaths as he tried to get his voice to work properly.

“Kacchan…Kacchan and I used to date,” he managed, “Kind of. I don’t know what you’d call it, since Kacchan never…he would always say we didn’t need a label or something, which was fine with me, honestly.” As soon as he started, he found it hard to stop. “But then he…I don’t know why, but he got into UA and started ignoring me.” He sniffled, choking back another round of tears. “I th-think he was emb-embarrassed of me. Or I wasn’t…worth his time, maybe.” His mother made a noise of sympathy, slipping off her chair to pull him into a hug against her shoulder. He hugged her back tightly, gripping the back of her soft cardigan in his fists as he struggled to breath.

After a few moments of being held, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of his mother’s laundry detergent and perfume, his heart was no longer beating painfully in his chest, and he leaned back a tiny bit.

“We got into this big fight and…broke up, I guess,” he murmured, wiping his eyes with the collar of his shirt and heaving in deep breaths, “And then I saw him with this…girl, looking really happy, and I just…you know.”

“Oh, honey,” his mother gasped quietly, her voice heavy with sympathy that made him boil over again, “I’m so sorry, Izuku.”

“It’s o-hic-okay,” Izuku hiccuped, sniffling loudly and covering his eyes with his arm momentarily. He tried to force out a laugh. “I got so-some good songs out-hic-t of it, I guess.”

“Silver linings are good,” his mother whispered with a hint of a smile, brushing her fingers through his hair and cupping his teary cheek, “You’re allowed to be sad, though, you know. Heartbreak sucks.”

“Yeah, it does,” Izuku said with a wet chuckle.

“C’mere,” his mother said, guiding him back into her arms and rubbing his back, “oh, my baby, you’re gonna be okay.”

Izuku let himself cry.

His mother had gone to sleep hours ago, after leaving him with a kiss on the forehead and the promise to be there when he needed it, and he really should’ve done the same, but his mind was too loud for that. Which is how Izuku found himself sitting at his desk chair, guitar in his hands, notebook at his feet, phone set up to record him from a few feet away on his desk. The sound quality would probably be terrible, but he didn’t care enough at the moment.

He clicked the recording button, the positioned himself properly in his seat and inhaled a steadying breath.

“My name is, uh…Deku,” he said quietly, both out of his own hesitancy and the hope that he didn’t wake his mother, “and this is a song I wrote.” He stared at the camera for a second, then cleared his throat awkwardly. Why was he doing this again? “Yeah. Here goes.”

With one last deep breath to calm himself, he started the melody he’d written days earlier, letting the soft acoustic sound of his guitar wash away his nervousness. This wasn’t a live performance or something, just letting out some feelings in his bedroom. He could delete it later.

“I wore makeup when we dated, ‘cause I thought you’d like me more,” he started, “If I looked like all the other prom kings that you had before. Tried so hard to be everything that you liked, just for you to say you’re not the compliment type…”

Another shaky breath.

“And I knew how you took your coffee and your favorite songs by heart, I read all of your self-help books so you’d think that I was smart.”

As he sang, the memories started pouring in, and his chest burned like a withering bonfire.

“Stupid, emotional, obsessive, little me,” he sang, echoing the dismissive comments that he used to try so hard to brush off as nothing, “I knew from the start this was exactly how you’d leave.”

Kacchan was always too far away, wasn’t he. Always reaching for something far past what Izuku could ever provide, could ever hope to achieve at his side.

“You found something more exciting, the next second you were gone. And you left me there cryin’, wonderin’ what I did wrong.”

A tear ran down his cheek, but he refused to stop singing to nobody.

“And you always say I’m never satisfied, but I don’t think that’s true, ‘cause all I ever wanted was to be enough for you…and all I ever wanted was to be enough for you.”

Maybe he was just singing to himself. For himself.

“And maybe I just not as interesting as the boys you’ve had before, but god you couldn’t have cared less about someone who loved you more.” His voice nearly cracked, heavy with a teary weight he couldn’t create on purpose if he tried. All he could think about was the feeling of Kacchan’s soft hand in his own, the way those deep red eyes used to sparkle when they were alone, the way he’d always thought he’d known that Kacchan would come back to him. No matter how many harsh words, because he never meant them. Right?

“I’d say you broke my heart, but you broke much more than that. Now I don’t want your sympathy, I just want myself back. Before you found something more exciting, the next second you were gone. And you left me there cryin’, wonderin’ what I did wrong.”

He’d been happy stuck in the background, in the little area behind Kacchan, because it was a place made for him. Because no matter how much brighter Kacchan shined than he did, he’d always have his chance to bask in that light, to be looked upon by that sun. If the sun dubbed him worthy, of course.

“And you always say I’m never satisfied, but I don’t think that’s true, ‘cause all I ever wanted was to be enough…”

His soft voice got a little more forceful as his fingers danced on the guitar strings, though he didn’t intend it to.

“Don’t you think I love you too much to be used and discarded? Don’t you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing? But don’t tell me you’re sorry, boy, feel sorry for yourself, ‘cause someday I’ll be everything to somebody else…”

He paused for a second, opening his eyes to look out his window, into the blue evening.

“And they’ll think I’m so exciting,” he sung quietly, “and you’ll be the one who’s crying.”

He turned back towards the camera and let his eyes fall shut again, letting the cool feeling washing over him. “Yeah, you always say I’m never satisfied, but I don’t think that’s true. You say I’m never satisfied, but that’s not me, it’s you. ‘Cause all I ever wanted was to be enough…but I don’t think anything could ever be enough…for you, enough for you, oh, oh…”

Kacchan believed he was better than everyone around him, too good for any competition. And maybe he was right. But that didn’t mean Izuku had to stay behind him, or around him at all.

“No, nothing’s enough for you.”

Kacchan had been his sun, and he was just another planet in orbit. Maybe it was time for something to change.

There was no point in trying to live up to expectations of someone who’d made it clear he didn’t care.

He stopped playing, reaching the end of the song, and shuffled forward in his chair to stop the video. His room was strangely silent, almost oppressively so but not quite, but even more off-putting was that he’d ceased crying. His eyes were dry, and he felt no tears build up in his throat.

And when he finally got into his bed, he fell asleep without any thoughts racing around his mind.

--

Katsuki woke up to more bullshit messages from Camie and the rest of the idiots. He managed to hold off on checking them until his mother started bitching about something to his dad while he was having breakfast, and he figured he’d rather deal with Yoarashi’s insanity than hers.

🔥🧊💥✨💨

camiiieee: duuuuuddees check this out!! it’s bkg-kun’s ex-bf

[camiiieee uploaded a link]

camiiieee: hes like, talented 4 real tho 🔥🔥

Shouto: woah. I feel bad for him :(

camiiieee: omg tdrk-kun is using emoticons lsdkldfk

GALEFORCE: That song made me cry!!

Shouto: why did you put exclamation points then?

GALEFORCE: To convey my emotions!!!

camiiieee: k then

KingExplosionMurder: what the fuck is wrong with you all

camiiieee: yooo bkg!! did u watch the vid??

KingExplosionMurder: no. fuck you.

camiiieee: babes cmon, ur ex is gettn famous bc u dumped him or smthng

Katsuki never fucking dumped him! It was Deku’s damn fault for being so…needy, or whatever. Katsuki couldn’t help that he had shit to do with his life that was more important than his quirkless childhood friend and whatever the hell he wanted to call their relationship. It wasn’t fucking…personal.

He thought back to the concert.

Deku might have taken it that way, though.

Shouto: if he was really singing about you, then you sound like a jerk.

camiiieee: get his ass tdrk!! ✨

Shouto: what?

camiiieee: get him, todoroki-kun (like, call him out)

Shouto: oh. okay.

Shouto: bakugou-san, you’re mean.

camiiieee: 👏👏👏

Shouto: :)

KingExplosionMurder: you all are so fucking stupid

Shouto: thank you for proving my point. :)

camiiieee: OOOHHHH BURRRNNNNN

Katsuki really should block these people. But he had to admit, they had him wondering what the hell had even spawned the conversation. So, despite the voice in the back of his head yelling at him to just let it go and move on, he scrolled back up to the link and opened it. It led him to another tweet, from an account he hadn’t seen before, with a video attached. The thumbnail was of Deku, sitting on his desk chair in his bedroom with that crappy guitar he’d gotten so excited to buy back in elementary school, and the account name was “Collision Course”. Deku’s band.

The caption read “Deku wanted to share a song he wrote”, but what caught Katsuki’s eye the most was that the tweet had five thousand likes despite being posted just that morning. When he clicked on the band’s profile, they had a whopping fifteen thousand followers, despite having created the account that month. What the hell?

He glanced up to find his mother still ranting to his dad about some “brunette model bitch who thought she was in charge or some fuckery”, and decided to quickly make his escape to a different room. Once he cleared his dishes and made his way into the living room, plopping himself down on the couch with about twenty minutes to spare before he had to get to school, he pressed play on the video.

It started with Deku leaning back from the camera to position himself in the chair, adjusting the guitar on his lap and shuffling his fingers around with tiny twangs of the string. “My name is, uh…Deku,” video Deku said quietly. Katsuki frowned, brows furrowing. Since when did he call himself that? “And this is a song I wrote,” video Deku continued, staring awkwardly into the camera then clearing his throat. “Yeah, here goes.”

Katsuki almost smiled at the familiar social ineptitude. This was more like the Deku he knew, not the version from the concert. Though, the Deku he knew wouldn’t never had to the confidence to post a video of himself singing on the internet, so who knows. Maybe he really had changed.

The Deku in the video took a deep breath, then started playing his guitar. It was a simple riff, and every little movement of his hands against the brass could be heard through the grainy phone camera audio. It felt raw.

And then Deku started to sing.

It was like a punch directly to Katsuki’s chest, stealing the air from his lungs as that god damned voice made its way through his phone speakers. And he watched Deku sing his heart out in the sinking blue evening light, reflected through a window and onto his closed eyes and soft, dark curls.

He sounded fucking…broken. Tired.

Angelic.

Katsuki might as well have been hypnotized, Deku’s words enveloping him until he almost forgot where he was. Every line meant a thousand more words than the few he sang, and Katsuki could hear every one. His voice was that of someone without any walls, who wore their heart on their sleeve and presented their emotions raw no matter how much they hurt for it.

He’d always hated Deku for that. For being able to be so emotional, so easily open, when he had every right in the world to build an impenetrable fortress around his heart like Katsuki had.

“Yeah, you always say I’m never satisfied, but I don’t think that’s true. You say I’m never satisfied, but that’s not me, it’s you. ‘Cause all I ever wanted was to be enough…but I don’t think anything could ever be enough…for you, enough for you…”

Deku opened his eyes, staring right into the camera like he knew who was watching him, expression soft yet decisive.

“No, nothing’s enough for you.”

Maybe Katsuki had fucked up.

Chapter Text

On today’s episode of Things Izuku Did for Inexplicable Reasons (Even to Himself): allowing Fukui to post the video he’d filmed with the intention to show no one and then delete. Something inside him had prompted him to share it with them, and they got so impressed and excited about it that when the suggestion was made in the groupchat, he just went along with it. That was before he was told their account had rocketed to almost sixteen thousand followers overnight. That was quite a lot of people.

He got a little more panicked when Narumi sent a text to the groupchat during lunch break.

COLLISION COURSE!!

BeachHairDontCare: aaahh the video has 6k likes now!! o(^▽^)o

spiderqueen: cool.

Asama: all according to keikaku B)

Small-Might: whats the keikaku,,,

Asama: to make you super famous so you can shove it in ex-blondie’s face, duh

spiderqueen: hell yeah.

Small-Might: aklsdjfhsl guys

spiderqueen: midoriya-kun.

Asama: deku-kun

BeachHairDontCare: that song was gorgeous, though, seriously!! you were so emotional, I actually cried (┬┬﹏┬┬)

Asama: I second that

spiderqueen: I didn’t cry

Asama: LIAR. how could you not

spiderqueen: it was still a good song, I just don’t cry much

Asama: you emotionless being.

Izuku felt himself smile unabashedly at his phone, tucked into the back corner of his classroom and wishing he were with his friends in person. He honestly couldn’t wait for band club after school, and that made him feel incredibly warm. He’d never had something like that before, never had a place where he could be completely himself and still have appreciative eyes on him. He was starting to think the fleeting looks from Kacchan didn’t count for much.

Small-Might: thank you for being my friends and being so kind all the time. I’m very lucky to have met you all :)

spiderqueen: . . . oh my god

BeachHairDontCare: awwww midoriya-kun!!! ~\(≧▽≦)/~ we love being your friends too!!

Asama: I’m coming to your classroom to hug you right now deku-kun

spiderqueen: are you actually a real person

Small-Might: last time I checked…yes?

Asama: I don’t know what the hell blondie was thinking but he for sure missed out, damn

BeachHairDontCare: seriously!!! you’re the whole package with an extra bow on top✨

Small-Might: okay, thank you, but I think I’ve reached my compliment limit for the day everyone

Asama: we’ll have to pick it up in the afternoon then

Izuku was smiling so wide his cheeks hurt, but his teacher came in to end lunch and start class before he could respond. He pocketed his phone quickly, and the warm feeling stuck with him the rest of the school day. Having friends was nice. Real friends.

That afternoon, Izuku sat in the band room, chatting away with Asa about how long they’d both been playing the guitar and how they’d learned – Izuku was self-taught from videos online, Asa had taken a few lessons – when they were interrupted by Narumi bolting into the room and squealing. Izuku nearly fell out of his damn chair from the shock.

“GUYS!” Narumi yelled, bouncing up and down on her feet and waving her hands about excitedly, “OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!”

“What’s happening?” Asa asked with a laugh, leaning back a bit in his chair as Narumi pumped her fists around in every direction. She looked like she was about to punch something accidentally, and Izuku and Asa were both in the splash zone from the rapid movements of her hair. “Narumi-chan?”

“We got discovered!” Narumi finally squealed, clapping her hands together a few times in celebration. Her eyes were wide. “Well, mostly Midoriya-kun, but still!”

“What?” Izuku and Asa asked in sync. Izuku’s heart was about to beat out of his chest and he still had hardly any idea of what was going on.

“I put an email on our Twitter account,” said Fukui, who finally entered the room behind Narumi, holding her phone in the air with a hint of a smile, “and some record people reached out or something.”

“What?” Asa shrieked, shooting out of his chair and racing towards Fukui, making a move to grab her phone. She held it out of his grasp. “Come on, let me see!”

“Chill out!” Fukui snapped, using another hand to hold him back from her as Narumi continued to dance around happily. “Everyone sit the hell down and I’ll read it to you.”

The other two were in their seats in seconds, while Izuku had never left his. He might’ve been in shock. What was going on? Was this real?

“Okay,” Fukui started, holding up her phone to read off of as Asa and Narumi leaned so far forward in their chairs Izuku worried they would fall off, “it’s addressed to ‘Collision Course Band’, and it’s from…” she squinted at the phone for a second “Tsuchiya Records.”

Narumi let out an audible gasp, turning everyone’s attention towards her. “Sorry, I was just being dramatic. I’ve never heard of them.”

Fukui snorted and kept reading, “They say…’My name is Okawa Kohaku, and I am a label representative and talent scout from Tsuchiya Records. Your band has certainly caught my eye, and I believe that you have the potential for real success in the field!’” Narumi let out another tiny squeal and Izuku thought he might be about to pass out. “‘From what I have seen, we at Tsuchiya might be extremely interested in signing you, and I would love to contact you more about this opportunity. Let us know as soon as you can. Best regards, Okawa Kohaku, Tsuchiya Records.’”

As soon as Fukui was done reading, Narumi launched herself out of her chair and threw her arms around the other girl’s neck. Fukui looked extremely caught off guard by this, her entire face flushing a dark red as she awkwardly patted Narumi on the back. “This is so COOL!” Narumi yelled, pulling back and turning her sights to Izuku. “Right, Midoriya-kun?”

“Uh…,” Izuku managed, pretty sure his brain had overloaded and short-circuited, “wow.”

“Wow is right, dude!” Asa exclaimed, socking him in the shoulder, “This is totally gonna piss blondie off!”

Izuku knew the words were supposed to be encouraging, but they felt like a bucket of cold water over his on-fire brain. His smile melted, heart slowing again. Right, Kacchan.

Up until now, every important moment of his life was shared with Kacchan in some way or another. The day he found out he was quirkless, Kacchan was there. The day he got his first guitar, Kacchan had been with him. The day he gave up on UA, Kacchan was the first person he told. The day he got into Horikoshi High School, Kacchan was, again, the first one to know. Always a constant in his life, even if it didn’t seem to work the other way around.

For All Might’s sake, Kacchan was even there at his very first concert, whether that was a good thing or not.

But he wasn’t here now. For…whatever this was. It was undoubtably going to be a huge thing if it all worked out, and he’d be going through it without Kacchan.

He’d be becoming his own sun.

Without Kacchan trying to push him down.

“Deku-kun, you good?”

Izuku smiled. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Great!” Narumi chirped, “Let’s write back!”

--

Katsuki hated Hound Dog’s office. For one, there were too many damn plants everywhere, and for two, it smelled like wet dog all the fucking time. For obvious reasons.

Another reason he hated it was because today was the first day he’d gone in willingly. All other times he’d been in this hell pit were because he was under threat of expulsion after blowing up on Todoroki in the sports festival – because the fucker had refused to use his damn fire! In Katsuki’s mind his reaction was completely warranted, but in UA administration’s eyes it was worthy of restraint gear and prescribed therapy sessions.

When Deku heard about the punishment that his teachers refused to call a punishment, he’d timidly suggested Katsuki go to the same doctor he used to see when he got upset about his absent father – fuck that Midoriya, by the way. Katsuki had went a few times, but after the ‘breakup’, he’d said some things that probably got him banned from that office for life and wound up stuck with goddamned Hound Dog again.

“Good to see you again, Bakugou-san!” Hound Dog barked. Literally barked.

Katsuki scowled at the pro-hero across the desk, slumping further in his seat and resting his cheek in his hand. “It’s real fuckin’ wonderful to be here,” he growled with malice, forcing down the nerves in his stomach. Talking about his feelings wasn’t shit to someone like him. For fuck’s sake, his hands could destroy buildings, therapy was nothing.

It was nothing!

“Was there anything you wanted to talk about today?” Hound Dog asked, placing one large hand on top of a few papers on his desk. Maybe Katsuki hated the other therapist because she was too damn nice. Hound Dog said everything like it was a threat, and he could respect that a bit more.

“Yeah,” he finally answered, squeezing one hand into a fist on his lap. Why the fuck was this so hard? He huffed in irritation. “God fucking damn it, can’t I just punch the shit out of something and go home?”

“I don’t think that will solve your problems,” Hound Dog deadpanned, “and watch your damn language.” Katsuki gave him a look, and the pro hero’s lip curled back in the dog version of a smirk, showing a row of incredibly sharp teeth. It was weird. “What did you want to talk about?”

Katsuki didn’t answer, digging his fingers into his palms instead.

“Take your time, then.”

Katsuki bristled immediately, glaring at his teacher with venom. “Fuck off,” he snapped.

“Kid, what the hell did I just say about language?” Hound Dog barked back.

“Fuck you!” Katsuki yelled, slamming his hand down on the arm of the chair with an explosive pop.

Hound Dog growled at him, a literal hunting dog growl from somewhere deep in his throat, and Katsuki remembered his circumstance again. Getting in a screaming match with this specific teacher was a one-way ticket to expulsion, and he actually did have something he needed to talk about before he drove himself crazy. He huffed, relaxing back into the chair and keeping his eyes downcast. The growling faded.

Come on, just fucking say it, he tried to force himself, Deku would. You’re as fucking brave as Deku is, aren’t you?

That seemed to do the trick.

“I fucked up.”

Apparently, the admission took Hound Dog surprise, because he didn’t comment on the fowl language. Katsuki kept picking at the threads of his uniform. The words felt a bit like red hot smoke in his throat, but he forced out more.

“You ever realize you might regret something way after you did it? When you’re probably too late?”

Hearing Deku’s song, the hurt in his voice, and realizing that he’d caused that, made him feel some way he didn’t understand. But it was terrible. He felt terrible, and he thought it might be regret. The realization that he didn’t want to hurt Deku as much as he obviously had.

Hound Dog didn’t respond for a bit, almost enough time for Katsuki’s fuse to run short. “A few times…Why, what did you do?”

Katsuki glance up to scowl at him. “Don’t say it like that, I didn’t commit a damn crime or anything.”

Hound Dog shrugged. “You never know.”

“You suck at this job.”

“Spit it out, kid.”

Katsuki exhaled sharply, returning his gaze to one of the many shitty plants around the office. “I screwed up with a person, not the law.” Though, maybe the law would’ve been easier. At least then he’d know how to deal with it. Go to juvie for a year or two, then bam, time served and price paid. This? Who knows what the fuck this was.

“That’s believable.”

Katsuki stiffened, whipping his head up to glare at Hound Dog, growling with exasperation in the back of his throat. “You’re absolutely shit at this! What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I have a policy of honesty,” Hound Dog montoned,” And you, Bakugou-san, are not a people person.”

“You’re one to talk,” Katsuki grumbled.

“Some people say I’m not a person at all, so I guess you’re right,” Hound Dog responded coolly, “Now, I don’t know how you messed up with this mystery someone, but from what I know about you, I’m guessing you spoke.”

“Asshole.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re very talented.”

That was not what Katsuki had been expecting him to say. He had to give the dog-man props, he wasn’t often taken off-guard. “What?”

Hound Dog placed a finger on the top of a spray bottle used to water the plants, moving it back and forth casually. “That’s what people keep telling you, yes? It’s just constant praise for the future hero.”

“I-”

“Do you think you deserve it?”

Katsuki blinked at him, no words in response coming to mind.

“You are a very strong person, Bakugou-san,” Hound Dog said, “You will undoubtably be a powerful hero someday. But you are not pleasant to be around.” Katsuki bristled, about to jump to his own defense, but Hound Dog kept going. “It’s not because of your personality. As you may have noticed, I’m certainly not the most polite, quiet person on this planet.” Katsuki scoffed, and Hound Dog narrowed his eyes at him. “I, like you, have been called brash, rude, loud, and mean. Hell, most of the kids at this school are scared of me, for good reason.”

“Get to the point, dog-man,” Katsuki grumbled.

“But I don’t think I’m better than everyone by default,” Hound Dog said, “I don’t decide that other people aren’t worthy of a second glance before I know jack-shit about them.”

The line from Deku’s song echoed in his mind then.

Nothing’s enough for you.

“In what way did you screw up with this person?”

Katsuki was quiet for a while, taking in what had felt like ten consecutive punches to the face. No one, and he meant no one, had ever spoken to him that way before, not even his mother. It had always been “you could be nicer”, if anything at all. The fuckers who failed him in the licensing exam had told him that. His classmates had told him that. His teachers had told him that.

Deku had never told him that.

No, Deku had never asked him to be nice, never asked him to be anything other than what he was.

Except once. In their last fight, with tears running down his cheeks. He hadn’t said “nice”, though.

”You could care, you know. You could care about me, Kacchan.”

“I didn’t…care enough,” Katsuki said, but the words felt wrong as soon as he said them. He wanted to correct himself. He wanted to say he did care, he just didn’t show it very well, but that wasn’t right. He’d chosen himself over Deku. He’d chosen to ignore his own fears rather than work through them, because he didn’t care enough about Deku to try to keep him. Because that would mean acknowledging parts of himself that he hated.

He didn’t correct himself.

Hound Dog sniffed at the air like a dog with a tic, making Katsuki glance up. “But you care enough now?”

The room filled with silence. Then, a quiet screech of a chair as Katsuki stood up, grabbed his uniform jacket and bookbag, and stepped out the door without another word, letting it slam shut behind him. Strangely enough, Hound Dog just let him go. He didn’t take the time to wonder why, though, shoving his hands in his pockets and stalking down the hallway, barely noticing the few students still left on campus.

He pushed his way through the door to the outdoor part of campus a little harsher than necessary.

Did he care enough now. Did he fucking care enough now, the hell kind of question was that? Of course he fucking did, that’s why he…

Katsuki slowed his walk unconsciously, the realization dawning on him. Or more like slapping him in the face.

That’s why he went to the damn therapy appointment, because he wanted to care enough, so why in the fucking hell did he just leave it? God dammit, Katsuki, you fucking dumbass.

He stopped walking, but he didn’t turn around. Why didn’t he turn around. He should turn the fuck around.

“Go back,” he said to himself, like saying it out loud would be any different. He actually did turn around this time, but then he stopped, glaring at the door back towards Hound Dog’s office. One second passed. Then another. Then another ten. “Fuuuccck this,” he groaned, kicking at the dirt with his boot, turning around again, then immediately forcing himself all the way around and back towards the office. He still didn’t start walking again. “God dammit!”

If there was one thing in this world that he was bad at, it was feelings, evidently.

“You know what, fuck this, I’m dealing with it tomorrow,” he growled under his breath, raking a hand though his hair and returning to the direction that would lead him back home, “I’ve had plenty of fucking feelings today, I don’t need to-OI!”

“Ack!” the asshole who just ran into him yelped, dropping the phone in their hands and quickly bending down to pick it up. “Sorry, I wasn’t-” The other guy cut himself off at the same time Katsuki froze, those familiar wide green eyes meeting his.

The universe was a god damned bitch.

Katsuki knew he was falling off the deep end when Deku managed to compose himself first, clearing his throat and shoving his phone in the back pocket of his jeans – wait, since when did Deku wear skinny jeans? “Kacchan,” Deku said flatly, making Katsuki look up from his jeans to his face again. His heart was beating loud enough to hear in his ears. He hadn’t heard that nickname in a month. It would be incredibly weird to try and touch him right now, right? Yeah, it would. He should not do that. Hands in the pockets, not in Deku’s weirdly shiny hair.

“Deku,” he managed, unable to describe the feeling in his chest or explain the dryness of his mouth. Something about Deku had changed beyond the earring and the clothes, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “What are you doing here?”

Deku’s expression went cold, like he was purposely holding back any show of emotion. “I’m meeting a friend,” he said, void of…anything. Katsuki felt familiar anger roil in his gut. What the fuck was up with this? “I don’t…know where she is, though,” Deku continued, the visage cracking ever so slightly as he awkwardly glanced around the courtyard. The tiny show of normal Deku was enough to stop Katsuki from blowing up, and he took a deep breath.

“Who are you looking for?” he asked, making Deku glance at him and blink in surprise. Katsuki swallowed thickly. This was horrible. “I’m making fucking conversation, Deku, stop looking at me like that.”

“Oh,” Deku said quietly, “Uh…Uraraka-san.”

Katsuki frowned. Uraraka, one of the only people in his class he actually cared to know the name of. “How do you know her?”

It was an innocent, genuine fucking question, but it brought the cold demeanor back like he’d flipped a switch that made Deku instantly hate him. Scratch that, hatred would be better than the look on Deku’s face. This was just dismissiveness, and it made Katsuki’s blood boil. “She’d talk to me sometimes,” Deku answered flatly, not even taking the time to look at Katsuki, “when you wouldn’t.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Katsuki snapped before he could stop himself, and Deku immediately stiffened.

“Me?” he echoed incredulously, glaring at Katsuki. At least he was looking at him again. “How is this something wrong with me?” Katsuki opened his mouth to…defend himself, take it back, do something, but Deku beat him to it. “I didn’t come here to see you, Kacchan, I came here for a friend. Not to be attacked again because you can’t…” Deku trailed off with an irritated huff, stomping his foot and clenching his fists. Cute? Not the time. “Gah! Just…leave me alone!”

“Because I can’t what, Deku?” Katsuki demanded.

“Because you-ugh!” Deku threw his hands up and huffed again. “Excuse my language, but because you can’t get your head out of your ass!”

“Fuck you!” Katsuki fumed, too surprised by the language disclaimer to think of anything better to say. For example, something not completely idiotic that could only make this worse.

“You’re impossible!” Deku exclaimed, “And I’m not-…agh, I’m not dealing with this right now! Goodbye!”

“Deku-kun!” Both boys turned to see Uraraka standing at the exit of a different building, waving one hand over her head, “Over here!”

Deku took off towards her before Katsuki could get another word in, leaving him fuming in the soon-to-be-empty courtyard. His mind was reeling, and without another thought, he whirled around and stomped back into Hound Dog’s office. Fuck, Deku, he could get his head out of his ass. Or, no, it wasn’t even there in the first place - whatever! Feelings! He was dealing with his god damn feelings!

Hound Dog didn’t even look up when he came back in, slamming the door behind him with force. “Bakugou-san.”

Katsuki glared at him. “Did you expect me to come back or something? That’s why you let me leave?”

“No, I just didn’t care that much. Have a seat.”

--

Uraraka gave him a very concerned look when he came over to her, undoubtably looking like he wanted to kill something, so Izuku forced himself to take a few deep, calming breaths. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he exhaled, “I’m…yeah, I’m good.”

“That was Bakugou-san, right” she asked, glancing over his shoulder, “Did he say something to you?”

Izuku felt his eye twitch. “Oh, you know, nothing out of the usual.” Uraraka looked a little taken aback by the venom in his voice. He sighed. “Sorry, he’s just…never mind. Let’s not talk about him. Thanks for saving me, though.”

“No problem…,” Uraraka said, inspecting him. Izuku managed to keep his mouth shut for only a few seconds of the uncomfortable silence.

“Yes, he’s my ex,” he blurted, “I know you saw the whole concert thing, so…you know, no point in hiding it.”

Uraraka looked at him for a second, then just shrugged. “Eh, you deserve better than that jerk anyways. And you wrote the song of the damn century because of him, apparently, so good for you.” He blinked at her, then they both laughed. “Didn’t mean that as a pun, but yeah, good for you!”

“Well, thank you for the compliment,” Izuku said, trying to shake off the downcast feelings Kacchan had left him with, “And I really am sorry about ignoring you for so long.”

Uraraka waved her hand at him dismissively. “Nah, it’s fine. I’m sure you had plenty going on with the whole ‘going viral’ situation.”

“I sure did,” Izuku answered, smiling, “Actually, I have some really exciting news about that.”

“Oh?” Uraraka said, raising a brow, “Do tell!”

“Weeelll,” Izuku started, “yesterday, we got an email from some record people wanting to talk to us! And today they said they wanted us to come in for an audition-type thing!”

“Oh my gosh, congratulations!” Uraraka exclaimed, socking him lightly in the shoulder, “That’s awesome!”

“Yeah, it is,” Izuku responded, glancing back over his shoulder at the building Kacchan had disappeared into, then shaking his head a bit. Enough of him. This was Izuku’s time. He grinned at Uraraka again. “We were freaking out about which songs to do, which is why I was a little late.”

“I sure hope you’re doing ‘good for you’,” Uraraka commented, and he laughed a bit.

“I think it’s a requirement at the moment.”

He and Uraraka ended up getting boba tea as he told her all about his crazy week, eternally grateful that she was willing to ignore his rudeness from before and lend him an ear. He made sure to return the favor by letting her talk about what hero school was like, and he learned that her parents worked in construction and she was hoping to become rich enough to support them one day. He thought that was a very noble goal.

Eventually, they both had to go their separate ways, and Izuku found himself back in his bedroom with his trusty guitar-notebook duo at his side. The third ingredient to his magic mix of songwriting was his run-in with Kacchan, and the ugly feelings left over from it. For a second there, he’d thought Kacchan would be civil. For one, tiny instant, he thought he’d seen something in those red eyes that wasn’t disdain. He could’ve even sworn he almost saw Kacchan smile, but of course, he had to be proven wrong.

“Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don’t understand,” he sang quietly, strumming his guitar half-heartedly. He frowned, humming the tune again, then set his guitar to the side and grabbed his notebook instead, singing quietly to himself as he scribbled and re-scribbled new lines out.

“It’s always one step forward, and three steps back; I’m the love of your life until I make you mad,” he murmured, humming another part of a melody and wishing he had a piano like Narumi. “ It’s always one step forward, and three steps back; Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don’t understand.”

He sighed, twisting his pencil between his fingers absentmindedly. If only Kacchan would actually take that one step forward. Or, as previous, very rude Izuku had said, if only he’d get his head out of his ass.

He looked up at his ceiling stars, the ones he’d stuck up with Kacchan when they were younger.

If only.

Chapter Text

Katsuki thought he might have finally cracked the damn code. The root of all his problems, the one reason he’d felt like shit the past month, could all be boiled down to one very simple fact: He, Bakugou Katsuki, was a colossal asshole. That was it!

Okay, maybe it was actually a shit ton more complicated than that, because he’d always been an asshole and he probably always would be, but the point still stands. Perhaps a better way of putting it was that he was an idiot. The sheer amount of fuckery Hound Dog had dragged, kicking and screaming, out of his subconscious during their past few meetings was insane.

So, yeah, he’d discovered that he was a dumbass, now he needed to figure out what the hell to do about that. Specifically, how to stop being stupid and fix his shit with Deku. If that was even an option for him anymore.

If it was any comfort to himself, he got the feeling he’d already started in the right direction when he got into UA. The realization that he actually did have competition beyond the small pond of middle school life had hit him harder than he would’ve liked to admit back then. In hindsight, it also might have served as a catalyst to his split with Deku, along with his dismal performance in the licensing exam. He was in a downward spiral, and Deku was still bright and perfect as ever, and it just didn’t make sense.

He didn’t understand why Deku – quirkless little Deku – was flourishing in his new school, smiling brightly at him each morning, while he was struggling for the first time in his life.

He was jealous. He was fucking jealous of Deku, and he probably always had been. That’s why it had always felt so necessary to “put the nerd in his place”, to make sure that any affirmation he gave the other boy was followed by the reminder that he would never be as good as Katsuki.

How fucked up was that?

According to Hound Dog, “Quite a bit. But you’ll figure it out.”

And Katsuki thought that maybe he would. Because now, as he lay on his bed, holding his phone above his face and scrolling through the few things Deku’s band had posted on their account, he was able to push past all the ugly shit in his mind until he got to something far better. A feeling far warmer, finger hovering over an image posted sometime yesterday. Deku was standing next to some girl at a drum set, guitar hanging around his shoulders as he glanced over at the camera with the cheesiest smile imaginable, both hands held up in peace signs.

He looked happy, and he looked so damn gorgeous.

“Shit,” Katsuki huffed, dropping his phone to his chest and glaring at his ceiling.

Was it selfish of him to want to talk? To risk bringing up things Deku was trying to leave behind and ruin his happiness all over again? For All Might’s sake, he didn’t even deserve Deku’s time at this point, and there was no guarantee he wouldn’t screw up if he got it. He had already messed up so many times in the past, he wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if Deku just slapped him and slammed the metaphorical door in his face.

He didn’t want to give up, though. He’d never given up on a single thing in his entire life, and he’d damned if he started with Deku. If he’d learned anything over the past few weeks of therapy (he still gagged mentally when he thought that word), it was that he did care enough. Because, fuck it, Deku was the sun, and Katsuki had no right to put him out.

If Deku slammed the door in his face, told him to go screw himself, he’d understand, and at least he’d walk away with the knowledge that he’d done all he could, and he deserved that fate in the end. But he was putting his all into it first, because Bakugou Katsuki never did anything half-assed. Never.

--

“Deku-kun!”

Izuku startled so much at Fukui’s light poke to his shoulder that he nearly jumped out of his chair, heart rate rocketing as he stifled a scream. She quickly drew all of her hands back with wide eyes.

“Woah, dude, chill out,” she admonished, “Deep breaths. Count to ten or something.”

Izuku, now thoroughly embarrassed, nodded and drew in a few deep inhales. “Yep. Sorry about that.”

“You’re pretty nervous, huh?” Narumi asked, leaning forward from the other side of Fukui to give him a look of concern. A few drops of her hair fell to the ground with tiny plips. “We said your name, like, five times before you heard us.”

“Oh, you did?” Izuku responded anxiously, wringing his hands in his lap as his leg bounced up and down so fast it might’ve been vibrating. “I guess I am pretty nervous.”

“I’ll say,” Asa commented from his other said, glancing down at his leg. “Just…try and stay present, alright? You’ll be great.”

“Mm hm!” Izuku squeaked, eyes darting around the company waiting room until they landed on the door labeled “Rehearsal Studios”. That Saturday had finally arrived, which meant he and his bandmates were in the Tsuchiya Records building, waiting for Okawa-sensei to come back out and lead them to where a producer was supposed to watch them perform a song or two. Izuku had only told his own mother about all this a few days ago, and she’d managed to scrape together enough money – thanks to his father’s promotion – to hire them an agent. At least, a temporary agent, and only if the record agreed to sign them.

So, yeah, he was a little bit nervous to be here. He felt like this was going more than a little fast. It was closer to deciding he should get on a plane for the first time then being told he was actually in a rocket going to the moon. In short, he did not feel prepared. The universe did not seem to care about this whatsoever.

“Collision Course?”

Asa clapped him on the shoulder before he could shriek or do something equally embarrassing, jolting up to see Okawa-sensei, the talent scout who had emailed them originally, standing in front of the open door to the rehearsal rooms and smiling at them. “They’re ready to see you now!” she sang, waving her hand to beckon the four teens out of their seats, “Come on, you got this.”

“Yeah we do,” Asa grinned, shaking Izuku’s shoulder a bit before standing to follow. With one last nervous squeak, Izuku scrambled out of his chair to join them. Okawa-sensei led them down a hall lined with glass doors, each leading to a slightly different room with varieties of instruments and recording devices, stopping when they reached a particularly large one that had drums, guitars, a piano, and a desk with a woman sitting at it. The woman had the paws of a leopard, and, upon closer inspection, they eyes and tail of one too, and was dressed in a sharp suit.

“This is Collision Course, from one of the local high schools,” Okawa-sensei introduced them as all four bowed deeply. “They’re the kids from that viral video a few days ago. Kids, this is my boss, Kita-san.”

“Thank you very much for this opportunity, ma’am,” Fukui said, the only one not too nervous or excited to speak properly.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Kita practically purred, and Izuku silently wondered how she used human things with cat paws. Her paws did look a little more like hands than the usual stray alley cat’s though…he shook his head slightly. Not the time! “I very much enjoyed what I’ve seen from you so far,” she continued, looking straight at Izuku with no moves to pretend she wasn’t addressing him directly. That meant he had to respond, right?

“Th-thank you, ma’am,” he stuttered, face-palming inwardly. One of these days he’d manage to be chill, right? He could dream.

Kita stared at him for a few moments longer, and he nearly started panicking wondering if he’d somehow messed up the mere three words he’d said. But thankfully, she turned her attention back to the band as a whole. “Well, let’s not waste time here. What did you have to share today?”

“We wanted to perform two songs for you, ma’am,” Fukui said, “One written by Deku-kun –“ she gestured to Izuku with one of her hands “– and the other written by Deku-kun and Narumi-chan.” She gestured to Narumi with a different hand.

“Let’s start with one,” Kita smiled, “I’ll ask you for more if I’m interested.” Izuku resisted the immediate urge to curl into a ball and sob. This was hell on Earth. “How many songs do you have in total?”

All eyes turned eyes to Izuku, who happened to be cursed with the pseudo-lead singer and songwriter position, and he swallowed nervously. “Uh…about f-four that we’ve practiced enough.”

“Hm,” Kita hummed, seeming happy with his response for whatever reason. “Well, don’t keep me waiting! Let’s hear it.”

Izuku nodded a few times, making his way to the front as his bandmates took their places at their respective instruments behind him. There was no microphone, but he was used to singing alone in his room. If he ignored the incredibly important woman in front of him, it was just like that! Yup!

“This…uh, this first song is called ‘jealousy, jealousy’,” he managed, glancing behind him to receive a thumbs up and a grin from Asa and Narumi. He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining himself back in the band club room like his mother had told him to, and took a deep breath to relax himself. “One, two, three, go.”

On his count-off, his bandmates started to play, a quiet base making its way in first. After a few beats, he started to sing, with a barely-there rasp in the back of his throat.

“I, kinda wanna throw my phone across the room, ‘cause all I see are girls too good to be true. With paper white teeth, and perfect bodies, wish I didn’t care,” he sang, her voice unusually low as the rest of the ban readied themselves to join in. “I know that beauty is not my lack, but it feels like that weight is on my back, and I can’t let it go.”

The drums started in earnest with the next verse. Izuku felt himself slip into lyrics and the feelings that brought them on. The feelings from walking around schools with a target on his back, the feelings of knowing that everyone else had something he didn’t, the feeling that he’d never measure up and never could.

“Co-comparison, is killing me slowly. I think I think too much, ‘bout kids who don’t know me.” Izuku let the cadence of the song overtake his nervousness, opening his eyes but barely registering his surroundings “I’m so sick of myself. I’d rather be, rather be, anyone, anyone else. But jealously, jealously…started following me. Started following me.”’

Was he ever jealous of Kacchan?

“And I see everyone getting’ all the things that I want, and I’m happy for them, but then again, I’m not.”

He didn’t think he was. He didn’t think he ever could have been.

“Just cool vintage clothes and vacation photos, I can’t stand it, oh god I sound crazy.”

He wasn’t jealous of Kacchan, because he had never been able to think of Kacchan in any negative way, ever. He was the goddamn sun.

But he was jealous of everyone around him. Of the people who were never told their only option was to be nothing. For the people who really could do anything they wanted, achieve any dream on their horizons.

“Their win in not my loss, I know it’s true, but I can’t help getting’ caught up in it all.”

By the end of it he was back on the high of performance. That’s what he called it, at least, that sudden rush of confidence he got when he sang. He felt like an entirely new person, one who didn’t stutter every time he was addressed or trip over his own shoelaces sometimes. He liked it.

When they finished, Kita leaned back in her chair, studying them with her sharp yellow eyes, and Izuku felt the nervousness start to seep back in. Then, she clapped. Actually clapped, her paws creating a more muffled noise than a usual person’s hands, but clapping nonetheless.

“I have to say, kids,” she said, “you’re living up to expectations.” Izuku almost sighed in relief, but she wasn’t done. “But,” Kita added, “I think I better hear another song. How about that one from the video?”

“Good for you?” Izuku clarified, and she nodded. That’s what he’d been expecting, and he tried for a smile. “We were hoping to do that one, thank you.”

She grinned back at him. “Then get to it!”

After their meeting with Kita was over, Izuku was able to hold in his scream until they were escorted fully out of the building by Okawa-sensei. But as soon as he was on the other side of those glass doors, he exploded into a high-pitched squeal, pumping his fist repeatedly as Narumi and Asa cheered.

“We did it!” Narumi shouted, flinging her arms around a smiling Fukui’s neck, “We actually did that! And she said we were good! Aaaaah!”

“This is the best day of my life,” Izuku managed, sounding like he was about to break down sobbing – because he was. “I can’t believe I didn’t die in there. I swore I thought I was gonna die.”

“So dramatic, dude,” Asa smirked, holding out his fist for Izuku to bump, “You did awesome, just like we all knew you would.”

Izuku smiled wide, tears bubbling from his eyes. “You guys did really good too!”

Narumi gave him a watery grin from where she stayed latched onto Fukui, also tearing up, and before he knew it, he was being yanked into a group hug. His teary-ness turned into plain old crying at that. “We all did so good!” Narumi cried, hugging him even tighter, “Now let’s go get ice cream or something!”

“Yeah,” Izuku laughed, sniffling as they pulled out of the hug, “But, wait, I wanna take a picture of us first.”

“Ooh, great idea!” Narumi chirped, quickly squeezing in beside him as he pulled out his phone, positioning it to fit all of them. He snapped a photo, fully aware that he looked like a mess from all the crying but too exhilarated to care. He’d just performed in front of a producer. She’d said they were good. She’d said he was good. And now he might be getting an opportunity to do something he loved for the rest of his life, something so extraordinarily different from the dreary future he’d resigned himself to when he gave up on his UA dreams.

“Let me see that, I think I blinked,” Asa said, pulling him out of his happy headspace as he shuffled to look over Izuku’s shoulder. “Hah, we all look like a mess.”

“A happy mess,” Narumi corrected, grinning at Izuku’s other side.

“Lemme see,” Fukui demanded, and Izuku handed him his phone. She glanced at the photo and shrugged, then paused before handing it back. “Oh, you just got a text.” She squinted at his screen. “From…Kacchan?” Izuku’s heart dropped to his stomach. From who? Fukui snorted a tiny laugh. “Kacchan with two exclamation points, damn. Who’s that?”

“Uh…it’s…here, just give it back,” he managed, taking his phone back from his friend to see that Kacchan had, in fact, texted him. Why in the world would Kacchan text him? Why did it have to be now? Why, at the very moment he was feeling close to the happiest he’d ever felt, did Kacchan have to butt in? Why, why, why?

“Is something wrong, Deku-kun?” Narumi asked, concerned. He cleared his throat and shoved his phone into his back pocket without checking the message. He’d could worry about Kacchan later, but he was not letting his current mood be ruined.

“I’ll talk to him later,” he said with a forced smile, “I believe we were going to get ice cream?”

--

Katsuki didn’t know which kami decided to line up the events in his life in this specific way, or if they were for or against him, but somehow, just a half hour after he’d texted Deku – a half hour spent trying not to destroy every single item in his room out of stress – his mother knocked on his door and demanded that he go over to Auntie Inko’s house to drop off a Tupperware borrowed months ago. She’d filled it with homemade melonpan. She still didn’t know about the breakup.

Nope, as far as his hag of a mother or boring old dad knew, he and Deku had been mere acquaintances through middle school and didn’t talk much nowadays thanks to the different schools. That was probably because Katsuki always made a point to never invite Deku over to his house and to tell his parents he was spending time with other people when it was really the nerd. He’d been that insistent about keeping it all a secret, unwilling to let his parents even think they were friends. All because he was ashamed of something he now wished he could truthfully scream from every rooftop in Japan.

Once again, he was an idiotic asshole.

Auntie Inko answered after a few knocks on the door to her apartment, and Katsuki didn’t know whether to be happy it wasn’t Deku or disappointed that it wasn’t Deku. He felt both, and then he noticed that way Auntie looked at him after her initial, presumably automatic, cheery greeting.

“Katsuki-kun, it’s you.”

Oh, shit. She knew.

“Afternoon, Auntie,” Katsuki managed, swallowing the rock in his throat and despising that he felt so nervous and out-of-place in front of Auntie Midoriya Inko, of all people. Apparently, incredibly nice characters like Deku and Auntie had the most intimidating I-hate-your-stinking-guts faces that one could possibly imagine. He finally remembered the Tupperware. “My mom wanted me to give this back.”

Auntie stared at him for a second, then took the Tupperware out of his hands with a tiny nod. “Well, tell her I said thank you,” she said coldly, and Katsuki was again surprised that someone like Inko could be cold at all. He hated the feeling of her being mad at him, and hated even more that he really, really deserved it. “Was that all?”

“Oh, uh…” Katsuki trailed off, unsure of what reaction he would get if he asked if Deku was around. He’d never thought of Auntie as scary until this exact moment. He should probably just leave. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Boisterous laughter filled the apartment hallway before Auntie could close the door in his face, followed by a loud voice declaring, “I though they saw me!” There was another laugh, a funky snort with a giggle, and Katsuki froze.

“That doesn’t mean you should just run into the road!” Deku laughed loudly, poking at the shoulder of his bandmate with the black hair – the guitarist. All four of them were coming down the hall towards his apartment.

The girl with four arms spotted him first, slowing a little. “Oh…uh, Deku-kun?”

“Yeah?” Deku answered cheerily, turning to face her before startling, eyes going wide as he did a double take and stared right at Katsuki, who was still in his doorway, hands awkwardly shoved in his pocket. Silence enveloped the hallway and Katsuki wished he could bolt, but Deku was in the way of the door and King Explosion Murder didn’t run from anything, goddammit. “Oh.”

Auntie Inko, somehow unfazed, waved at Deku in his friends while completely ignoring Katsuki’s existence. “Well, hello there! You must be Izuku’s friends!”

“You must be Midoriya-san! Nice to meet you!” the pianist with ocean hair smiled as Katsuki and Deku stared at each other like two cowboys in an old Western, except instead of a dramatic desert town road it was the hallway of a random low-rise apartment building in Musutafu, Japan.

“Why don’t you four come on in,” Auntie said, gesturing for Deku’s bandmates to join her, which they finally did after a few wary looks in Katsuki’s direction. Deku, on the other hand, didn’t move. “Izuku, honey, are you coming?”

Deku blinked a few times, as if he hadn’t noticed the circumstance, and glanced over at his mother. “Uh…yeah, I’m coming.”

Auntie nodded and headed inside with one last cold look in Katsuki’s direction, and Deku followed, shrinking away from Katsuki ever so slightly. But not in the way he used to in middle school, like he was afraid he’d get shoved, but like he couldn’t stand being too close.

“Wait.” In a knee-jerk impulse, Katsuki reached out to grab his arm. Deku’s eyes went wide and he whirled around, moving to yank his arm out of Katsuki’s hold, but Katsuki had let go as soon as he’d touched him, drawing his hands back to his chest. He should not have done that. “Oh fuck.”

That was about as close to sorry as he could get at the moment.

“What,” Deku snapped. Katsuki resisted the flare in his chest at the tone, biting his tongue to keep himself in check. He had to say something, and it had to be something that wouldn’t dig him further into his grave. That mean temper control, something he got plenty of practice with in good old Hound Dog’s office.

“Deku…” he started, then glanced up to find Deku’s friends and mother glaring at him from inside the apartment. Gah. This conversation was hard enough as it was, he didn’t need to the do it with the entire Deku Defense Squad as his audience. “Okay, can we…” he looked back down at Deku’s bright green eyes, coughing awkwardly in the back of his throat and desperately trying not to set off any explosions “…ugh, I fucking…”

He glanced at Deku’s friends then back to Deku, who narrowed his eyes and raised an eyebrow, seemingly confused by how fucking weird he was being right now. Katsuki wanted to punch the damn wall. THIS SUCKED. Why can’t he just say words like a normal damn person for one time in his life?

“I don’t know how to do this shit,” he muttered, mostly to himself, clenching his fists tightly in his pockets and trying not to let the frustration show, “Fuck.”

For some reason, the annoyed confusion melted off Deku’s face, replaced by an almost soft surprise that made Katsuki’s heart flop like a dead fish in his chest. What in the world was he thinking?

“Midoriya-kun?” one of his bandmates said gently, and Katsuki once again resisted the initial instinct to yell at them for it.

“Just a second,” Deku answered, not looking away from Katsuki, then exhaling deeply, “Later, Kacchan.”

And then he closed the door.

Katsuki stared at the solid blue wood in his face, paint chipped a bit around the numbers announcing it as apartment 109. Later? Deku said “later, Kacchan”. Not “bye”, not “go away”, not “how dare you come to my house, never contact me again”, he’d said “later”.

Katsuki repeated the words so many times in his head that it stopped sounding like a real word, all the way from the time he finally stopped standing outside of Deku’s door to the time he had almost gotten home and his phone buzzed in his back pocket. He assumed it was just his mother asking if he’d be back soon. He was wrong.

Deku

>> river at 9:30?

Katsuki nearly tripped over his own damn feet and stopped short in the middle of the sidewalk, staring, dumbfounded, at the message. Deku wanted to talk. For some fucking reason, Deku was willing to talk to him. Or maybe yell at him. Either way, it was something. The river was their place, had been since they were kids and found it. Scrambling up the small hill of rocks and dirt, Katsuki marching his way through trees with Deku doing his best to keep up. They’d discovered a river with a fallen tree forming a makeshift bridge over top. Katsuki had almost fallen their first time over it, and Deku’s attempt to stop him had sent the nerd into the river instead.

That was the first time Katsuki had ever needed to help someone. He'd jumped in after him without thinking about it.

He responded to the message.

<< okay.

Chapter Text

Izuku stared at Kacchan’s one-word response, wondering if this had been a mistake. It wasn’t too late to back out. Tell Kacchan never mind, or just not show up that evening. But…something about their interaction at the door was sticking with him. It wasn’t the Kacchan he knew. It was a version of him, but Izuku noticed the small clenches of his jaw and the stiffening of his muscles at the places he used to start screaming. The apologetic tone of his “oh fuck” after touching Izuku’s arm, the look in his eye that was so different and unfamiliar compared to the usual fiery anger or bland indifference. He’d almost looked vulnerable, if Izuku was pushing it.

And he’d admitted “I don’t know how to do this”. He’d been struggling with his words, which meant he’d been trying, and then he’d admitted to not knowing what he was doing. Kacchan never, ever said he didn’t know. He never, ever admitted to not being the best at everything he did. He never doubted his words, he never held his temper, he never acted the way he just had. Izuku couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“Izuku?” his mother’s voice called softly from the other side of the bathroom door, followed by a light knock, “Are you alright in there?”

“Yup!” he answered, shoving his phone in his pocket and standing from the closed toilet seat. He flushed the toilet and washed his hands for believability, then quickly made his way back to where his friends and mother were still waiting for him, worried or confused looks painting all their faces. “Guys, I’m fine.”

“Kacchan’s the ex-boyfriend?” Fukui asked, raising an eyebrow. Izuku let out a breath, slumping down on the couch.

“Yeah, he is.”

“That explains why his text made you act strange,” Narumi said, frowning, “But what was he doing here?”

Izuku shrugged, looking to his mother for an answer. “He came to drop off something from his mother,” she said, holding up the Tupperware she’d had the whole time. Izuku blinked at it for a second. If Auntie Mitsuki had sent Kacchan over here, that probably means she didn’t know about the breakup. That means neither Kacchan nor Izuku’s mom told her anything about it. He didn’t expect Kacchan to say anything, as he’d always kept Izuku secret in the past, but he was surprised that his own mother never told anything to her friend.

“Well, good riddance,” Asa said, crossing his arms, “He was being really weird.”

Izuku frowned, trying to find the proper words to defend Kacchan but not coming up with anything sensible. In fact, he almost agreed. Kacchan had been being weird, but in a…good way? Better way? He wasn’t sure.

“Yeah,” he managed, tapping his fingertips together absentmindedly. He tried for a smile. “Let’s not talk about him though.”

“How was your audition?” his mother asked, making him grin in earnest.

“It was wonderful!” Narumi chirped.

For the next few hours, Izuku and his friends talked to his mother about everything that had happened that day, and he was able to finally formerly introduce them to her as his friends. They were all invited to stay for dinner, but each had to get home to their own families, so it was just Izuku and his mother.

“Sounds like I’ll need to hire that agent after all,” she smiled, making him grin.

“Yeah, I hope so,” he answered, taking a bite of his soba noodles, “We can afford it, right?”

His mother reached out to pat his hand. “Yes, honey, we can afford it. Don’t worry about that. You just need to worry about that wonderful voice and all your great songs.”

Izuku flushed, embarrassed at the compliment but still happy. “Thanks, mom, I’ll try.”

Her eyes suddenly turned a little more serious. “You’re okay, right?”

He blinked at her, swallowing his bite of food and nodding a bit. “Yeah, mom, I’m okay.”

“You’re sure?” she asked, “Even with Katsuki-kun coming here today?”

For some reason, he almost smiled. “Yes, even with Kacchan coming here earlier.” He took another bite of his soba and glanced up at her. “Actually, I was wondering something. Have you…did you say anything to Auntie Mitsuki?”

His mother shook her head. “No, I didn’t. None of my business unless he really hurts you.”

“Oh.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “He didn’t, right?”

Izuku’s eyes went wide. “No, of course not!”

“Good.”

Later that evening, as it neared nine pm, Izuku quickly finished washing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen. “Hey, mom?” She glanced at him from the couch, where she was working on a knitting project and watching some cheesy TV show like most evenings. “I think I’m going to go for a walk. Clear my head.”

She frowned at him. “Alright, just take your phone, be careful, and be home before eleven.”

Izuku was once again grateful to have such a trusting mother, though it only made it worse to lie to her. But he was only lying by omission, so it didn’t totally count. “Will do, mom.”

He ended up having to use his phone flashlight to navigate through the woods he knew like the back of hand, mostly hoping not to trip over any jutting roots or slip down any surprise ravines. The familiar smell of cedar and cypress brought him back to simpler times with Kacchan, making their way through the trees to catch bugs or play heroes. The drizzle of rain from a few nights dampened everything around him and made him wonder if he should’ve brought more than his old All Might hoodie, but it was too late for that. Soon enough, he reached the river, taking a careful step onto the log lying across the top. It was a tad slippery with moss, but he managed to make his way to the middle and sit down.

With his legs hanging over the edge of the log bridge, he realized that his toes were only a foot or two away from the water’s surface. It had seemed a much further distance when he was a little kid. Quite the distance to fall, that was for sure.

The way Kacchan had acted back then had stuck in his mind ever since. He’d jumped right off the log and to Izuku without a second thought, completely ignoring the fact that he could’ve gotten hurt doing that, and helped him to his feet. And then he’d said something along the lines of “only a stupid nerd like you could fall in a river, you’re lucky I’m here to save you”. And that was probably the moment Izuku fell in love, in the way only a four-year-old could fall in love with their best friend. Blindly and innocently and completely.

It was only a few months after that he’d been told he was quirkless. Kacchan had been…rather strange about it. It took him months to come around, like Izuku had been born without a quirk on purpose, just to spite their shared dream. He couldn’t blame him, though. They were both children.

He slid his foot down a little, letting the tips of his barely-tied shoelaces trace against the smooth surface of the slowly gurgling water. The darkness allowed him a shoddy view of his murky reflection, and he didn’t much want to see his own face anyways. He’d seen it enough in repeated attempts to get a proper photo of him and his bandmates over the past week to send to the record producers.

Sometimes he really wondered if he was meant for all this.

--

Katsuki nearly ran into a tree on two separate occasions during his walk to the river, muttering a stream of curses under his breath – mostly towards the Powers That Be that decided to give him strong enough feelings for this damn nerd to stay up an hour or two past his bedtime to go trapsing through the woods in the dark. If one more tree got in his way he swore to god he’d start a forest fire.

He managed to duck under one tree branch – it was a lot easier to walk though this place when he was only three feet tall – only to straighten back up and ram his head right into another one.

“Fuck!” he swore, whacking the branch on instinct and scraping his hand against the rough bark, “Ow, shit!” He took a step backwards, and of course landed right on a rock that rolled out from under him and sent him careening backwards with a yelp of surprise, then a choking noise as he hit the ground. He sucked in a sharp breath, panting and staring up at the dark tree canopy above in defeat. “I hate this fucking forest.” His back hurt.

“Kacchan?”

Katsuki jolted up at the familiar voice, just barely managing to duck a different tree branch and scramble to his feet. “Deku?” He squinted in the dark, then followed the sound of the river and the source of Deku’s voice until he finally came upon the goddamn river, just a few feet away from where he’d fallen.

Deku was sitting out on the log, his green eyes wide and somehow still bright. His legs hung over the edge, shoelaces drifting on the river surface, dark hair ruffled and perfectly messy over his face. It had grown out a bit. If it weren’t for the sweatpants and old All Might hoodie, Katsuki might’ve mistaken him for a spirit of the woods. He was that stupidly pretty, even in the dark and his pajamas.

Katsuki cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to be discreet about brushing the dirt and leaves off his tank top. “Hey.”

Deku stared back at him for a moment of tense silence, then suddenly broke out into laughter, much to Katsuki’s chagrin. He hadn’t heard Deku’s laugh in so long, let alone seen him laugh, even in the lowlight of the night. His heart seized up in his chest. He found himself utterly unable to move or think or breath or do anything but stare.

Then Deku snorted, and he broke out of the trance enough to glare and snap, “What are you giggling at?”

Deku snickered again, covering his mouth with one hand and waving the other around a bit. “Nothing, sorry. You just scared the hell out of me.”

“That’s why it’s stupid to go out in the woods alone, dumbass,” Katsuki grumbled, making his way over the log and sitting on the opposite side from Deku.

“Did you fall?” Deku asked instead of answering, a teasing smile playing across his lips. Katsuki’s heart caught in his throat, and he was thankful for the darkness hopefully covering his fierce blush.

“Shut up.”

“You fell, didn’t you?”

“I’m gonna push you into the river.”

“I’ll drag you down with me, try it.”

“Like you could-” Katsuki cut himself off when he glanced over at Deku with the hint of a smile, meeting his eyes and suddenly remembering where they were and how they got there. Deku wasn’t right next to him, he couldn’t lean over and dig his fingers into that soft forest hair anytime soon, he couldn’t squish those stupid freckled cheeks and tell him he looked dumb when he really thought he was the most beautiful person in the world but couldn’t say it without gagging. There was a distance there now, he’d created it on purpose.

Deku’s smile slowly left his face at Katsuki’s sudden silence, dropping his gaze back to the water below. Katsuki fell back into that despicable feeling of being out of his depth, completely unknowing of the right things to say or do for the rarest moments in his life. Deku was one of the only people in the world to ever make him feel unsure of himself, because he was so different than what he should’ve been. He never fit into what Katsuki was told was his place.

If it weren’t for a terrible stroke of bad luck, a universal bad draw, Deku might’ve been the greatest hero the world had ever seen. And that was scary as shit to past Katsuki. It still scared current him, to be honest, but now he knew how wrong his actions had been. He might’ve known it back then, deep down. But he for sure knew it now.

He should tell him that, probably.

“Deku, I’m…” He could barely get a word out before his throat seized up, words sticking to his tongue and leaving a bad taste in his mouth. How did people do this shit so easily? He exhaled sharply, digging his fingers into the moss on to the log. “I’m…okay, what I’m trying to say…”

“You don’t have to.”

Katsuki frowned at the water below, then turned to find Deku staring at him from the other end of the log. “What?”

“You don’t have to say it,” Deku said quietly. Katsuki stiffened. He didn’t have to say what? That he was sorry? Why, because Deku hated him anyways? Because Deku didn’t care? He was that worthless to him now? All that shit he did meant nothing?

Shut up, Katsuki, that’s not what he meant.

The interjected logical realization sounded strangely like Hound Dog, which he hated, but Katsuki drew in a deep breath and turned his gaze back to the river anyways. One thing he’d learned about himself lately was that he had the tendency to misinterpret and jump to conclusions.

Deku said he didn’t have to say it. Say it.

Katsuki almost laughed.

He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve someone who understood him so well, who was still willing to give him a chance.

“Why not?” he ended up asking, damp moss and rough bark rubbing at his palms and keeping him grounded. “Why the fuck not, Deku?”

“Because…Kacchan, you’re…” Deku cut himself off with a shaky breath, and Katsuki tensed his fingers against the scratchy bark.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna fucking forgive me right now,” he growled, turning to glare at his childhood friend.

“No,” Deku answered immediately, “No, I’m not.” A wave of relief washed over Katsuki, his shoulder relaxing ever so slightly. Underserving forgiveness is worse than none at all. Then Deku gave him a strange, soft look, brows a bit furrowed. “Did you want me to?”

“No,” Katsuki answered just as quickly.

“Oh,” Deku said quietly, tracing circles with his shoelaces on the surface of the river, “Were you looking for it at all?”

“Yes,” Katsuki forced out before the word could get lodged in his chest. He had to stop letting Deku guide him through a conversation he should be pulling more than his own weight in. Deku shouldn’t be giving him leniency, and he shouldn’t be taking it. “I just…it’s shitty of me to say, but I just need a chance to show you.”

Deku knew this, of course. He’d always known how Katsuki worked better than anyone around him.

“If you say no, if you tell me to fuck off, I’ll understand,” Katsuki managed, “And I’ll keep trying to be better anyways. But I needed to…” He huffed, raking a hand through his hair and holding back the well of tears building in his chest. “Fuck,” he breathed, “this is hard.”

Deku was silent, letting him collect himself again and start over.

“You…you don’t need to believe a word I say. But I want to show you, if…if you would let me.”

--

Izuku didn’t know how to describe it. Looking over at Kacchan with his messed up hair and dirty clothes, hearing the barely-there crack of tears in his voice, the words he’d never imagine hearing from the mouth of his childhood friend. It was the knowledge that something had changed, the knowledge that Kacchan saw him as someone worthy of earning. Kacchan. The sun. It didn’t feel real. It didn’t make sense.

“Why?” he whispered. Kacchan tensed. “Why would you…since when am I worth that?”

“Alright, you could just fucking-” Kacchan snapped, but stopped when he met Izuku’s eyes, his expression dropping into one of disbelief. “Are you actually…you’re actually asking that.”

Izuku sniffled and nodded, not trusting his voice to answer and not understanding Kacchan’s offense taken.

“Deku…you’re…fuck,” Kacchan huffed, rubbing his hands down his face with a groan. “Dammit,” he swore quietly, “You’ve always been worth it.”

That was not what Izuku had been expecting to hear.

“I was…shit, Deku, I’m not good at this,” Kacchan continued, drawing in a shaky breath that made Izuku want to reach out to him. He didn’t. “I was worse at it before, and…” he let out another exasperated breath, almost like he’d been holding it in and was trying not to cry or blow his top “I hate this so fucking much, you know that?”

“You don’t-”

“I hate it, yet I’m still doing it,” Kacchan interrupted, talking like he was scared he wouldn’t be able to get the words out if he waited to say them, “That should tell you something, right?” Another shaky breath, and Izuku started to worry that Kacchan was nearing a breakdown. “You’ve always been worth it, I was just blind and stupid. And…”

Kacchan drew in a deep breath and let it out, almost like a sigh.

“You were always like your own sun, Deku, even though no one else has seemed to notice until now.”

He might as well have slapped Izuku across the face. That didn’t make sense either.

“Then why did you…” Izuku started, trailing off as his mind ran wild.

“Like I said, Deku, I was stupid,” Kacchan said quietly, “You didn’t make sense to me, and I blamed you for that. You were a…” He cut himself off, clenching his fists tightly at his sides. He was struggling with words again. “You were a threat and a weakness that I didn’t want to acknowledge.”

Izuku choked on a sob, covering his mouth with his hands and trying to hold it in as the tears ran down his cheeks. Kacchan whipped his head around to face him, looking startled.

“Deku?” he asked worriedly, “Shit, what did I-fuck.” He made a move to stand up, then stopped, and his eyes were filled with something so close to panic that Izuku almost wanted to laugh. All that, and Kacchan still didn’t know how to deal with tears. But instead of yelling, he was just sitting there like he wanted to help but had no clue how to. That meant he was trying.

He was trying. For Izuku. He wanted to try for Izuku.

And he was asking Izuku to let him.

Izuku really did laugh this time, mixed with another sob.

He’d never been able to say no to Kacchan in his life.

“Okay,” he warbled, sniffling loudly and wiping his tears with the heels of his palms, an inexplicable smile on his face.

“I, uh…okay what?” Kacchan said, still looking at Izuku like some volatile creature he didn’t know how to deal with. That drew another laugh out of Izuku’s muddled brain. “Why are you fucking laughing?”

“I don’t know,” Izuku sighed, using his hoodie sleeves to wipe his tears instead of his hands. He’d never been able to say no to Kacchan, even when he maybe should have, but he didn’t think that was the case right now. Kacchan hurt him. Really hurt him. But he wasn’t asking for forgiveness. In fact, he’d made it clear that he didn’t want it right now. “I think I’m still mad at you though.”

“I…” Kacchan started, then cleared his throat awkwardly, “I hope you are.”

“So you can prove yourself, right?” Izuku asked, finally overcoming the sobs and watching Kacchan’s face.

“Yeah,” Kacchan said slowly, like he was finally realizing what Izuku was saying.

“Well,” Izuku managed, taking in a shaky breath and smoothing out his hoodie, “um, maybe we could talk more in the morning? I should, uh…I should get home before my mom gets worried.”

“Right,” Kacchan said, nodding and getting to his feet, then stepping off the log and back to solid ground. Izuku followed, not missing the way Kacchan’s hands twitched at his sides when he jumped down, as if he wanted to offer help but wasn’t sure if he should. The tiny detail made Izuku’s heart pang in his chest, and he couldn’t help a tiny smile. “Uh…”

“We can walk back together,” Izuku offered, then smirked a bit, “Wouldn’t want you to fall again, now would I?”

Kacchan glared at him. “Shut the hell up.”

Izuku just laughed.

The next morning, he woke to the sun creeping through his windows and the heavenly smell of American breakfast food from the kitchen. Specifically, pancakes. He’d never gotten out of bed on a Sunday morning faster.

“Good morning, Izuku,” his mother said cheerily, waving at him with the spatula in her hand before flipping another pancake on the stove.

“Morning, mom,” he chirped, bounding over to plant a kiss on her cheek. She chuckled.

“It’s nice to see you happy!” she smiled, “What’s got you this cheery before noon?”

“I don’t wake up that late, mom,” he protested, moving to grab their plates from the cupboard to start setting the table. “And I’m happy because –” he thought back to his talk with Kacchan last night “– pancakes, of course!”

“That’s it?”

“Well, there’s also the whole record label thing,” Izuku added, laying the plates and cutlery out on their tiny dining room table. He suddenly felt nerves flutter in his stomach. “Yeah, there’s also that.” They wouldn’t have emailed them this soon, right? Probably not. He’d have to wait a day or two for sure, maybe even weeks. Stressing out about was useless! He should chill out!

“Izuku, honey, breathe.”

His mother’s voice snapped him out a momentary panic, and he unfroze and continued setting the table. “Yup, I’m good.”

“Good,” his mother chuckled, “staying calm is best.”

“Yeah, not like this is life-changing or anything,” he managed, trying for a joke.

“Worrying will do you no good right now, Izuku,” his mother said, patting him on the back with a plate of fresh pancakes in her hand. She set them down on the table. “Focus on breakfast instead!”

“I’d love to.”

“So, how was your walk last night?” his mother asked after they’d both sat down and started eating. Izuku nearly choked on his water, but he managed to force it down.

“It was…pretty good,” he answered, unsure if this was her being suspicious or genuinely wondering, “I wandered around the edge of the woods for a bit.”

“Oh,” his mother said, raising her eyebrows but seeming, for the most part, unfazed, “be careful around there after dark, honey. It’d be safer if you didn’t go alone.”

Izuku couldn’t keep lying to her. He never lied to his mother. “I wasn’t alone the whole time,” he said, earning a questioning glance as he set down his glass and cleared his throat, “Kacchan was there too.”

His mother frowned. “I assume not by chance.”

“No,” Izuku answered with a nervous laugh, “I…uh, I got the sense that he wanted to talk, so I asked him to meet me there.”

His mother made a humming noise, and he wasn’t sure if it was disapproval or concern. Probably both. “Did you talk?”

“Yeah, we did.”

His mother exhaled strongly, watching him across the table. “Izuku…I trust you, okay?” She didn’t continue until he nodded. “But I only want what’s best for you, like any mother would.” He nodded again. “So, I hope you understand my wariness of you meeting up with the boy you’ve been crying about almost every night for the past two months.”

Izuku almost flinched. “Yeah, I understand.” He poked a pancake on his plate with the syrupy prongs of his fork, sighing. “But I think…oh god, this is going to sound like a poorly written romance novel, but I think he’s changing.” His mother didn’t look very convinced. “I mean, do you think the Kacchan you used to know would ever admit to being stupid?”

She frowned. “No, he would not.”

“He asked if he could…he wanted me to let him show me that he was sorry,” Izuku murmured, staring down at his plate.

“What if…” his mother started, then cut herself off with a sigh, “Izuku, honey, I’m not trying to be cruel, truly. I just don’t want you to be heartbroken again. What if this is just because of everything that’s been going on with you lately?”

Izuku frowned, glancing up at her. “What do you mean?”

“Izuku,” his mother said, giving him a sad smile, “These past few weeks are possibly the happiest and brightest I have ever seen you. You seem so confident when you’re singing with your friends. You’re on the verge of something amazing. And that’s when he tries to come back.”

Izuku let her words sink in, but he didn’t quite believe her, whether from blind hope or actually knowing. Kacchan’s words from the night before echoed in his head.

“You were always like your own sun, Deku, even though no one else has seemed to notice until now.”

“I don’t think he’d do that,” he said quietly, moving to stab an innocent blueberry with his fork.

“What about the girl?”

He missed the blueberry, instead stabbing his plate with a loud screech that made him flinch. He quickly set the utensil off to the side. He’d forgotten about her, that beautiful blonde girl that made Kacchan laugh and got him to go to parties. The remedial course girl. “Oh.”

“He didn’t mention her?” his mother asked.

Izuku bit down on his inner lip and shook his head. “No, he didn’t. I don’t even know who she is.”

His mother sighed. “Communication is the most important part of any relationship, you know that, right?” He nodded. “If you’re…if you’re wanting to get anywhere with Katsuki-kun, both of you need to talk openly. I may not be on his side, but asking questions is always better than making your own conclusions.”

“Right,” Izuku nodded, “communication.” He let out an almost-laugh. “We were never very good at that in the past.”

“Maybe you can get better,” his mother said with a tiny smile, “Just…be careful, okay?”

“Always am, mom.”

Chapter Text

When Katsuki got stressed, he exercised, which is why he was on his sixth set of fifty push-ups despite it being Sunday afternoon when he should probably be resting his body. But doing hundreds of push-ups seemed far less daunting than talking to Deku after last night. Somehow, he’d pulled it off, been offered the path to his second chance, and now he had no fucking idea what to do. Again, feelings are not his strong suit. For once in his life, he found himself actually impatient for a therapy appointment, though he didn’t have one until tomorrow afternoon.

There was a knock on his door.

“What do you want, dad?” he demanded, pushing himself up into a plank and glaring at the entrance to his room. The door open and his father came in, eyebrow raised.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“The hag doesn’t knock,” Katsuki said, bringing himself to the ground and back up again.

His father laughed a bit. “You may be right. But you shouldn’t call your mother that, Katsuki.”

“Then she should stop being a hag,” Katsuki countered, focusing on the floor and his workout. His father just gave a weary sigh, one of a man who’d rehashed this conversation a thousand times before and never got anywhere. Katsuki didn’t know why he still tried. “What do you want?” he asked again.

“Just…checking up on my son,” his dad said awkwardly.

Katsuki glared at the floor. “What in the hell gave you that idea.”

“You were out late last night, you never do that.”

“I went to that thing with the losers, that counts,” Katsuki refuted, referring to the infamous concert. He thanked his lucky stars everyday that his parents let their employees handle social media and therefore never saw that damn video. For all they knew, he went out with friends for the first time in his life and came home early.

“I don’t think that’s quite the same thing, Katsuki,” his dad said in his “responsible, in-charge adult” voice. Katsuki suppressed a scoff and finished off his sixth set, still refusing to look at his father. “I wanted to make sure everything was okay when you disappeared so fast after breakfast.”

“Of course I’m okay,” Katsuki grumbled, plopping down on the floor of his room, leaning against his bedframe, and wiping his forehead with the bottom of his tank top, “What am I, a fuckin’ baby?”

“Katsuki, I know you don’t like-” Katsuki cut his dad off when he heard his phone buzz on his bedside table, jumping up so fast he almost fell over and practically lunging to grab it. “Woah, Katsuki!” his startled father admonished, stepping back with his hands up at his sides as Katsuki opened his phone to check the notification.

It was Todoroki.

He almost screamed, but settled on just throwing his phone down on his comforter then flopping face forward next to it like the dramatic teenager he deserved to be sometimes. He didn’t bother checking the message. Icy-Hot and the other two idiots could deal on their own.

“See, that’s the kind of behavior that makes me want to check on you,” his father said. Katsuki just growled into his bed. “This…is normal teenager stuff, I think.”

“Get out,” Katsuki grumbled as his phone buzzed again. He didn’t bother to check it this time.

“Who’s texting you?”

Katsuki huffed, grabbing his phone and rolling over so he could look at the new notification. He promptly dropped his phone on his face, yelled in pain, and shot upright. “Shit!” He barely caught his phone as it fell, jumping up to grab his dad’s shoulder and steer him out of the room. “Leave.”

“Wait, Katsuki-”

Katsuki closed the door in his face. He stared back down at the message.

Deku

>> I need to ask you something

Holy fuck what the hell was that supposed to mean. Katsuki forced himself to sit down on his bed and breath deeply. Why the hell was he panicking, it was an innocent statement. Deku could ask him literally anything.

>> what

The three little dots to indicate Deku’s typing appeared, then disappeared for a moment, then reappeared for much longer than Katsuki was comfortable with. What the hell, Deku.

>> never mind it was stupid

Katsuki nearly blew his phone to pieces.

<< deku I swear to fucking god, spit it out

He didn’t respond for a little while. Katsuki just sat and stewed about it like some idiot in a movie he would’ve scoffed at. Things change.

>> okay fine

>> don’t be mad though

<< deku.

>> who’s that girl you hang out with?

Katsuki frowned down at the message.

<< camie?

>> the pretty blonde girl

<< yeah that’s camie. what about her

Again, Deku took his sweet fucking time responding. Katsuki tried not to be pissed about it. Deku could take all the time in the world and Katsuki would sit here and wait because that’s what he deserved.

>> are you “together”?

Katsuki bluescreened.

<< me and camie. are we “together”?

Deku didn’t answer, so Katsuki kept going.

<< deku did you think I was dating that sparkly dumbass

>> …yeah kinda

<< WHAT

<< oh my fucking god, deku

<< excuse me while I go bleach my eyes

>> well that seems a bit extreme :/

<< it is not extreme in the slightest, you have never met utsushimi camie. she uses “like” and/or “lit” in every sentence and I sometimes have to copy her texts into urban dictionary to find out what the fuck she’s saying

>> so you’re not dating her

<< NO.

Why did he even care anyways?

He answered his own question with the annoying version of Hound Dog that was in his head. Because you broke up with him two months ago and he thought you already found someone new. That realization partnered with another, both hitting him like a truck.

The song Deku had written. The one about him looking happy, like he’d moved on and forgotten all about Deku. He’d thought Katsuki had really just started dating someone else right away. And that hurt him enough that he wrote a whole song about it. And he was still hurt about it now.

Did he think Katsuki was trying to get back together? Was he trying to get back together?

No, fuck, he could not be thinking about that right now. Way too fast.

What he should be worried about is that Deku’s impression of him was of a guy that would so incredibly shitty as to date someone new mere weeks after he ended things. Fucking hell, that was probably all his fault. He treated Deku that dismissively, buried his feelings that deep to avoid showing them even when Deku was so open.

It brought to mind that old phrase – “you can dish it, but you can’t take it”. Katsuki felt it was more that he could take it, but he sure as hell couldn’t give it back. Maybe he couldn’t even take it that well. Maybe he was just missing whatever vital part of himself that allowed everyone around him to deal with all these feelings – both his own and other people’s – so easily.

It was exhausting. But it was for Deku, so it was worth it.

He turned back to his phone, where Deku had gone silent, and started to type.

<< I’d never do that

>> because you hate camie that much? ha

Katsuki doubted Deku was actually laughing at the moment. He took a deep breath before composing the next message.

<< no, I mean date anyone

<< it’s been like two months

<< guess I do seem like that much of a shitbag though

One of these days he’d have the guts to actually say the words “I’m sorry”. Or even just type them. One of these days.

It didn’t look like Deku would be answering him anyways. He waited for the three dots to appear, but they never did. He ended up flopping back on his pillows and checking Todoroki’s message for the hell of it. It had turned into yet another idiot squad conversation.

🔥🧊💥✨💨

Shouto: we only have a few classes left, right?

GALEFORCE: Yes! Only three more days of remedial courses!

camiiieee: awwww i’m gonna miss u guys sm ❤❤

GALEFORCE: We attend the same school, Camie!

camiiieee: i was talking abt td and bkg babes

GALEFORCE: Oh! Well, I will miss seeing them every day as well!

Shouto: we will all be licensed heroes soon :)

KingExplosionMurder: good luck to the world, you’re all idiots

camiiieee: aww bkg imy2 ❤

KingExplosionMurder: what

camiiieee: dw bout it bby

KingExplosionMurder: stop fucking calling me that

Shouto: do not worry about it, infant

camiiieee: ASDKLDJFKL

KingExplosionMurder: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, TODOROKI.

Shouto: translation

camiiieee: i taught u so well 😌

Shouto: :)

--

Izuku stared at Kacchan’s messages for quite a while before flopping back on his couch with a huff. His chest felt heavy with a bit of relief, but majority confusion. Kacchan wasn’t dating that blonde girl – Camie. He should be happy about that, right? Kacchan never really meant to hurt him that deeply, at least not in that way, it was all just credited to his misinterpretations.

Kacchan said he would never do something like that. But he also understood why Izuku would think he would.

It was…bordering on comforting, he’d guess. The fact that Kacchan at least seemed to understand the hurt he’d caused.

Something was in the way, though. In the way of Izuku really being able to accept both the truth that he was hurt and the truth that Kacchan wanted to help him heal. It was all too confusing, too muddled in a nasty soup of resentment and memories. Being stuck in the past was no way to move forward. He wanted to move forward. He needed to move forward. But that meant scraping out all the ugly thoughts and feelings, pouring them into something else so he could leave them behind.

Kacchan was working to earn forgiveness, for reasons Izuku still had yet to wrap his head around. And Izuku kept telling himself, over and over again, that he owed Kacchan nothing for that. It’s just what he deserves, right?

But maybe he owed himself the ability to forgive. To, at the very least, move on.

Izuku pushed himself off the couch and went to grab his guitar.

An hour or so later, he was back at his desk, guitar on his lap and camera set up in front of him. His mother had gone out to get groceries, so he was free to sing as much as he wanted without bothering her. There was a strange tightness in his chest. Maybe the song would make it go away.

He hit record, took a deep breath, and started to play. Another simple riff on his guitar, trying desperately to pour every tear and ounce of hurt he had left into each note and lyrics. Maybe he’d pack it all into this one song, package all these feelings up in neat little words, and toss them away.

“Know that I loved you so bad, I let you treat me like that, I was your willing accomplice, honey,” he sang, “And I watched as you fled the scene, doe-eyed as you buried me. One heart broke, four hands bloody.”

Kacchan hadn’t thought he was important enough.

“Those things I did, just so I could call you mine. The things you did, well I hope I was your favorite crime.”

He had said he felt the same, but only behind closed doors.

“You used me as an alibi, I crossed my heart and you crossed the line, I defended you to all my friends.”

What changed?

“And now every time a siren sounds, I wonder if you’re around, ‘cause you know that I’d do it all again.”

Izuku had loved him. Still loved him?

“All the things I did, just so I could call you mine. The things you did, well I hope I was your favorite crime.”

What changed? Why did Kacchan always try to hide him, why did he leave, why didn’t he-

The disjointed clang of Izuku’s guitar strings against his fingers as he played the wrong notes snapped him out of the song to realize he’d started crying, and he jumped up to stop the recording as soon as he did. The ground was unstable under his feet, the tears hot on his face as he wiped at them haphazardly with his hands and felt his breath go shallow. There was that familiar emptiness in his chest, joined by a compulsive need for…something. Answers. Something.

He didn’t realize he’d called until Kacchan had picked up.

“Deku?”

Izuku stood at his desk, staring blankly at the wall with tears running down his face and choked breaths getting caught in his throat. He couldn’t think straight, could hardly think at all.

“Deku-”

“Why?” he blurted, barely managing to get the words out through the rock in his throat.

“What?” Kacchan asked. Izuku could imagine his confused face on the other end of the phone, and he felt his chest burn hot.

“Why?” he demanded, sniffling so loud Kacchan was sure to hear it. His voice cracked when he said it again, then again and again and again. “Why, Kacchan? Why did you-why didn’t you-shit. Why now?”

“Deku, I don’t-”

“Is it because you’re jealous?” Izuku said, then immediately wished he hadn’t. He wished he’d never picked up his phone at all.

“What the fuck?” Kacchan snapped. Izuku drew in a breath so sharp his nose flared.

“You don’t make sense, Kacchan,” he snapped right back, “Why not then? Why didn’t you care then? Do you even care now?” He dragged a hand through his mess of hair, feeling his chest shake. “What changed? What did I do?” He doubled over, sinking to his knees because he didn’t know where his chair was and couldn’t seem to keep balanced. None of this made sense. The only thing that had changed between then and now was Izuku.

“What did you do?” Kacchan said in his ear, strangely quiet. He almost sounded angry.

“Yeah,” Izuku sobbed, curling in on himself, desperate to stop shaking, “What was wrong with me back then? What was-why did we have to hide? Why did I have to hide? What did I do?”

“Holy fuck,” Kacchan breathed, “Oh my god.”

“Kacchan, please,” Izuku begged, “I’m just-it doesn’t make sense. I don’t get it. Why now?”

“Deku, breath,” Kacchan ordered, followed by a loud bang that made Izuku flinch. It sounded like a slamming door, “Just-…breath for a second or some shit. I don’t know.”

“No!” Izuku protested, wiping his hand messily across his teary face, “No, I want you to tell me!”

“I’m fuckin’ working on it!” Kacchan yelled back, startling him. What was that supposed to mean? Kacchan huffed loudly. “Deku, I-fuck. Okay, just don’t do anything stupid.”

And then he hung up.

Izuku stared at his phone for one, two, three beats of shocked silence. Then he threw it onto the ground and screamed. “WHAT THE HELL, KACCHAN? Don’t do anything stupid?”

His throat felt like it was full of burning smoke, and he let out another frustrated yell. And then the roller coaster went hurdling downwards again, and he was back to a sobbing mess on the floor. What was going on? What did he do? What did he do? What did he do?

“What did I do?” he whimpered to himself, gripping his arms tightly. The entire world was blurry.

A sudden, aggressive banging on the front door startled him half to death, and he scrambled to his feet in a panic because that was not his mother. A villain?

“DEKU.”

Kacchan. Ah.

Wait, Kacchan?

Izuku sniffled and wiped his nose, stumbling his way to the door to slowly open it. He meant to just peek out, but the second the door was unlatched, Kacchan was shoving his way inside and slamming the entrance closed behind him. Izuku just stared at him with wide eyes, still unable to breath properly. Why was Kacchan here?

He smelled like smoke. His hands were literally smoking. And he was breathing like he’d just run a marathon or got in a fight. His red eyes were slightly manic, hair wild and unkempt, cheeks flushed from exertion. Izuku’s heart stuttered in his chest.

“What are you-”

“I’m sorry.”

--

Katsuki might as well have slapped Deku across the face with the look he gave him, if he had half the mind to really notice anything than the general existence of Deku and the horrifying stabs of guilt he still felt like they were raw wounds.

“Deku, I’m so fucking sorry,” he continued, though it felt like yanking thorns out of his chest, “I want to prove that to you, but I need to say it too because…because fuck, you’re an idiot. You’re such a damn idiot, Deku.”

Deku blinked up at him, eyes still glazed and teary, his breath shaking. Katsuki wanted to pull him close and never let a single thing touch him ever again, but that would be hypocrisy. The only thing Deku needed defending from right now was Katsuki and the nerd’s own stupid brain.

He met Deku’s eyes and drew in a deep breath, desperate for Deku to hear what he needed to. It hurt him to say, but it hurt Deku more not to hear. And he couldn’t keep hurting him.

“This is all my fault. Not yours. It was never your fault.”

Deku sniffled.

“Deku,” Katsuki said, resisting the urge to reach out, “You never deserved how I treated you. What changed was me.” He took another deep breath, forcing himself to meet Deku’s eyes. “I…” he swallowed the knot in his throat, “I’m in therapy, for real. You know, cooperation and all. Not just ‘cause I have to be.”

Deku’s eyes went a tiny bit wider. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Katsuki said, dropping his gaze to the ground and scuffing his untied shoe against the genkan floorboards. Deku wanted to know what changed. Katsuki had to tell him what changed. “I didn’t…I hadn’t realized how much I really hurt you until I heard your songs. So I went. Because I want to…” The words suddenly ran dry. He held back his tears and glared at the floor instead. “Shit, this is a lot.” Why couldn’t he do this right? Why couldn’t he just say things like everyone else did?

“You care,” Deku breathed, and Katsuki barely had the time to glance up at him before he was tackled by a warm body. Deku’s arms wrapped around his neck like the nerd was holding on for dear life, and Katsuki stiffened in a moment of complete panic. Deku was literally sobbing into his shoulder. This had never happened to him before.

Deku squeezed him a little tighter, and suddenly Katsuki was hugging him back. He was shaking and hiccupping and crying and all Katsuki could do was give in to the desire to hold him close again. He was in sensation overload. Deku’s soft hair was rubbing against his cheek, his fingertips were calloused on his shoulders. Was it usually this hard for Katsuki to breath? Was Deku okay?

Holy fuck, I really need to get better at this shit, Katsuki thought to himself as he held Deku tighter and felt the shoulder of his shirt start to soak through from the tears. He made a face. Gross, Deku.

“You better not get snot all over me,” he grumbled aloud. To his surprise, Deku laughed through the next sob. “I’m serious, Deku, don’t be all gross on my damn shirt.” Deku laughed again, harder this time, and Katsuki figured he’d rather have the nerd shaking from the giggles than sobbing. He leaned his cheek into Deku’s hair without much thought. “’S not a fuckin’ tissue.”

Deku even giggled at that, his face still buried in Katsuki’s shoulder as he hiccupped and slowed his breathing. It was still shaky, but he was coming down, and Katsuki damn near deflated with relief. Crisis averted. Hopefully.

“You good?” he asked after a few moments of increasingly steady breathing. With another sniffle and a tiny cough, Deku nodded and pulled out of his hold. Katsuki shoved his hands deep in his pockets as Deku wiped his eyes.

“Yeah, I think so,” Deku managed, smiling a bit, “I, uh…I’m not really sure what just happened.”

“Me neither,” Katsuki decided to admit out loud instead of keeping it to himself.

“Sorry for…” he sniffed again “…um, yelling at you earlier.”

“Don’t be, I deserved that.”

Deku snickered and shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

Katsuki nodded, not sure what else to do. He had a sudden, terrifying thought. “Your mom’s not here, is she?”

Deku gave him a look, then broke into a slow smile and started laughing. “No, she’s not,” he snorted. Katsuki furrowed his brows and glared at the nerd.

“Why are you laughing at me?”

“No reason,” Deku snickered, bringing his knuckled to his mouth and stifling another snort, “It’s just-ha.”

“What?” Katsuki demanded. His face felt far too hot at the sound of Deku laughing and his wry smile.

“You seem kinda scared of my mom, Kacchan,” Deku smirked.

“I am not,” Katsuki snapped, shoving his finger at Deku’s face then pausing, “And so what if I am, that woman is threatening.”

With that, Deku broke into a loud guffaw through his hand, bringing a hand to his stomach. Katsuki did not understand how he went through such a large range of emotions so quickly. He had never related to anything less, but by god if he wasn’t fascinated with Deku’s laugh. It was so incredibly ugly, he wanted to capture it in a recording and hear it every second of the day. He’d probably get bored of it one day, but today was not that day.

He finally realized Deku was no longer laughing, and was instead just watching him strangely, like he was some random weirdo. “What?”

“You’re kind of…uh…never mind,” Deku said, suddenly looking away with his freckled cheeks flushed red. Uh oh, Katsuki did something weird. What did he do. Fuck.

“I should…probably go,” Katsuki said awkwardly, wiping his sweaty palms on the inside of his pants pockets, “Before Auntie gets home and all.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t want to have to face my scary mom,” Deku joked.

“Shut up,” Katsuki grumbled.

“Well, uh, guess I’ll see you later,” Deku said, then licked his lips nervously and flitted his gaze to the ground, “Or we could…uh, my mom says it’s good to get out of the house every so often. Exercise and all that.”

Katsuki stared at him for a second, wondering how those two things were mutually exclusive. Then he realized what Deku was actually saying and mentally kicked himself. Maybe this is why he’s only number three in his class – he’s a fucking dumbass. “I mean, I did do three hundred push-ups this morning and sprint all the way over to your house already, but a walk couldn’t fuckin’ hurt.” That was a personable thing to say, right? Why was Deku looking at him like that. He looked a little shocked. His face was red. What does that mean.

“Uh…that’s…um, okay then.”

“What?”

“Never mind!” Deku squeaked, turning around to kick off his house slippers and shove on his scuffed red sneakers. He grabbed a sweatshirt from the hook on the wall, then whirled back around, and the movement of his curls brought Katsuki’s attention to his earrings. Two tiny All Might “V”s. He smirked.

“Nice earrings.”

“Huh?” Deku asked, reaching up to touch them, “Oh. Thanks. My mom gave them to me.”

“She knows her son, apparently,” Katsuki said, smirking wider and nodding to the sweatshirt Deku was pulling on, also All Might themed, “She get you that too?” Deku glared at him, but there was no heat behind it.

“I like All Might merch, it’s not a crime,” he announced, “You used to be just as obsessed with him as I was, Kacchan.”

“Yeah, but I don’t wear his stuff all the fuckin’ time,” Katsuki countered, opening the front door so Deku could leave before him.

“I’ll have you know,” Deku said, punctuating the last word with a light poke to Katsuki’s chest as he made his way out of the apartment, “that I know plenty about fashion nowadays.”

“Oh, really,” Katsuki deadpanned. He closed the door behind him and moved to the side to let Deku lock it. “I can totally see that. You wear skinny jeans sometimes, peak of fashion.”

“Exactly,” Deku grinned, shoving his keys back in his pocket, “occasionally even ripped skinny jeans.”

“Wow,” Katsuki said, snorting as they started towards the building exit, “you should work for my parents or something.”

“You know what, I forgot about that,” Deku gasped, pointing an accusing finger at him, “Your parents are fashion designers! And yet you’re still out here dressed like that.”

Katsuki was momentarily taken aback, then barked a laugh. “What the fuck?”

“I’m just saying,” Deku muttered, shrugging, “I don’t see how you can be Auntie’s son and leave the house in a tank top and sweatpants. Then lecture me about bad fashion, no less.”

“Alright, that’s enough out of you, freckles,” Katsuki grumbled, elbowing Deku in the shoulder before making their way to the sidewalk.

“Truth hurts, don’t it?”

“Oh my god,” Katsuki scoffed, “Fucking hell, you get your taste of fame and suddenly become insufferable.” Deku snickered, and Katsuki was glad none of the offhanded insults seemed to hurt him. It all felt…very friendly. That was probably a good sign.

“I wouldn’t call it fame,” Deku said, shrugging, “Just a couple views on the internet.”

“A couple?” Katsuki echoed, incredulous, “Deku, that video had two million views. Last time I checked your band had over 20,000 followers. Don’t start acting humble, you’ll be annoying as fuck.”

Deku gave him a funny look. “Have you been keeping track?”

Katsuki frowned. “Of?”

“Our followers.”

“Uh,” Katsuki said, suddenly feeling sheepish, “yeah, a bit.”

“Oh,” Deku said, looking back towards where they were walking with a funny smile, “It is quite a lot of people.” He exhaled deeply. “Makes me think what in the world I did to deserve that.”

“Seriously,” Katsuki deadpanned, “Sheesh, Deku, I think you need therapy too.”

Deku blinked in surprise. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki said, “Self-confidence and shit. I’d recommend mine but he’s an asshole and I don’t like him very much.”

“That sounds fun,” Deku responded, glancing over at Katsuki. Katsuki kept his focus on the sidewalk in front of him. “So…you’re in therapy again.”

Katsuki had the gut feeling he’d have to say more about this. Still didn’t mean he wanted to. He took a deep breath as his boots scuffed against the concrete. “Yeah, looks like it. Turns out it works a lot better once you realize you actually do need it.”

“You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to.”

Katsuki didn’t deserve so much of his kindness. For Deku’s sake, he had to push through all these stupid fucking barriers.

“I’ve learned that I’m pretty fucked up,” he admitted quietly, “There’s a whole tangled mess up there.”

“I can relate,” Deku muttered. Katsuki glanced over to find him staring intently at the ground. His eyes looked dark.

“Like I said, you need therapy.”

For some reason, Deku smiled over at Katsuki. “Apparently it works very well.”

Katsuki did his best to not get weirdly flustered by that statement. Open communication was so weird. “Gee, thanks.”

“I’m serious,” Deku said, “You seem…different.”

Katsuki tensed, clenching his fists and biting back any possible snappy rebuttals. He didn’t mean in a bad way. The entire purpose of all this was to be someone different than he was when he hurt Deku. Chill out.

“Like that,” Deku continued, “you used to never control your temper.”

“I don’t-” Katsuki forced his mouth shut before anything stupid got out, sucking in a deep breath and forcing it out. “Yup.” He could control his temper. He did, in fact, have a temper, and he could control it. He knew how to be calm.

He glanced over at Deku, caught sight of his expression – soft eyes, a small, teary smile, something full of admiration that ran far deeper than the usual surface-level praise from everyone else –, and immediately tripped over air and nearly fell flat on his face.

Chapter Text

“Ah! Kacchan!” Izuku yelped as Kacchan suddenly stumbled, worried for a moment that he’d fall. Fortunately, Kacchan was able to right himself, eyes wide. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “You okay?” Izuku asked.

“Shut up,” Kacchan said through his teeth, not looking over at him. Izuku frowned. What was up with that? Maybe Kacchan was just embarrassed. He should just brush it off.

“Alright,” he conceded, turning his focus forward and noticing that they were approaching an old boba tea shop a few blocks down from his apartment building. He thought about it for a second, but he’d already plucked up the courage to ask Kacchan on a walk with him. This was just one more little thing. “Want to get boba?” he blurted before he chickened out.

Kacchan finally looked over at him, and Izuku noticed his cheeks were pinker than usual. Huh. “Sure.”

Izuku couldn’t help a little smile, though he wasn’t totally sure why. He wasn’t totally sure why he’d asked Kacchan to do this with him in the first place, really. He’d just had a weird impulse when he’d said he was going to leave that he didn’t want him to go. He still had questions for him.

And Kacchan had hugged him. That was new.

They made their way to the boba shop in silence, but it didn’t feel awkward like silences usually did. Izuku usually had the impulse to say something, even if he didn’t know what, but he figured he and Kacchan were both a bit mentally tired out from the most serious talks and open emotions they’d ever had in the past sixteen years of their lives together.

Izuku felt extremely proud of Kacchan for that. He was trying. He was really trying. It was hard to believe, but it was even harder to deny. He was caring. He was treating Izuku as someone important.

How long could that last?

Izuku tried to push the doubtful thought out of his head. He didn’t need to ruin this moment.

“So,” Kacchan said, once they had received their drinks and sat down at a small table outside the shop, “what did I miss?”

Izuku frowned at him as he took a sip of his tea, confused. “What do you mean?”

“What did I miss?” Kacchan repeated, staring intently at the table and muttering, “While I…had my head up my ass, or whatever.”

Izuku was silent for a second, not sure if he heard him right. Did Kacchan just…Suddenly, Izuku burst into laughter, making Kacchan whip his head up to glare. Izuku just laughed even harder at that.

“Dammit, Deku, you’re not making this any easier,” Kacchan growled. Izuku was laughing so hard it quickly became difficult to breath, clutching his stomach and doing his best to stifle himself because they were still in public. He’d nearly forgotten that particular argument, and there was just something about the way Kacchan quoted it that had him almost falling out of his chair. “Stop it!” Kacchan exclaimed, kicking his leg under the table with the toe of his black boots. “I’m leaving if you keep this up.”

Izuku clamped a hand over his mouth and forced in a breath through his nose, managing a little, “No, don’t!” as he tried to compose himself. “Don’t-hah, don’t leave,” he pouted, finally able to breath properly and dropping his hand, “I just…was not expecting that.”

“You really like laughing at me, huh?” Kacchan grumbled, glaring at the table. Izuku guessed he was holding his temper again. He still decided it was safe to push a little further.

“Yeah, a bit,” he smiled, “but in a good way.”

Kacchan glanced up at him with wider red eyes, then tched at him and took a sip from his tea. “You gonna answer me now?”

“Kacchan, I think you’ve had your head up your ass for at least the past four years,” Izuku answered honestly, “That’s a lot to cover.”

“Well,” Kacchan said, leaning back in his chair and meeting Izuku’s eyes, “I got all day and then some.”

Oh.

Oh, that smirk was kind of hot. Uh oh.

“Um…” Izuku started, willing himself to pull it together and stop blushing so much, “Most of the important stuff was really only in the past few weeks.” Kacchan quirked up one eyebrow, and Izuku cleared his throat and took a long sip of his tea. No falling apart over this. “Mostly with the, uh, band. We kinda maybe sorta got an email from a recording company.”

Kacchan’s eyes widened in surprise. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Izuku replied, ducking his head as his cheeks flushed, “we went in for an audition thing yesterday. It was so scary. I though I was going to die. I literally almost passed out.”

“You’re so fuckin’ weird,” Kacchan said, less like an insult and more like an incredulous observation. Izuku glanced up at him. “I mean, jump offstage to confront me in front of a packed crowd and you’re fine, but sing in front of your mom and you think you’re dying.”

“Well, first of all,” Izuku countered, “I was not exactly in my right mind at that concert. Second of all, hey.” Kacchan snorted. “Also, this was in front of some executive lady that was way scarier than my mom.”

“How’d it go then?” Kacchan asked. Izuku smiled a bit. This was all rather new. He liked it.

“It went…pretty good? I think?” he tried, “She seemed happy with us, at least. I hope.”

“Are they gonna tell you anything or whatever?”

“I’m guessing it’ll take them a while to get back to us,” Izuku shrugged, “Big company and all.”

“Well…that’s still cool as hell,” Kacchan said, sipping his drink and fiddling with the straw.

“Thanks,” Izuku managed, warmth in his chest.

“It’d be fucking great if my assholery led to you getting as famous as you should be,” Kacchan muttered, almost to himself. Izuku sucked in a tapioca ball so fast he swallowed it without chewing.

“What?” he spluttered, “Should be?”

Kacchan looked at him like he hadn’t realized he’d been speaking aloud. “Oh, uh, yeah. You sing…good.”

Izuku paused, furrowing his brow and tilting his head. “I sing good?”

“Shut the hell up,” Kacchan mumbled quickly, turning his eyes away and sipping his tea with pink cheeks. Izuku snickered. Kacchan trying to be nice was funny. This was so much better than it used to be.

“Thank you very much Kacchan, I’m glad you think I sing good,” he teased.

“Alright, fuck you, see if I try being nice to your dumb ass ever again,” Kacchan said with a glare, hunched back in his chair. Izuku laughed, but he was cut off by a slightly startled look from Kacchan, who pulled a buzzing phone out of his pocket. He frowned at it. “Fuck.”

“What?” Izuku asked, slightly nervous.

“The hag,” Kacchan grumbled, picking up the call and wincing at the immediate yelling from Auntie Mitsuki. “Oi, shut it!”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” Auntie shrieked loud enough for Izuku to hear, “Where the hell are you?”

“I’m with a friend,” Kacchan snapped, “I’ll be home before dinner.” He cut off Auntie’s next yell by simply hanging up on her with a huff. Izuku stared at him with wide eyes.

“Good to see Auntie’s still…more or less the same,” he said.

Kacchan scowled at his phone. “Yeah, annoying as shit.”

“Why was she freaking out?” Izuku asked.

“I kinda…ran out of the house without telling her where I’d be going,” Kacchan explained, not meeting Izuku’s eyes. Izuku let that sink in.

“You ran to come talk to me?” he said softly, not sure how he was feeling, “Wait, how did you even get there that fast?” Even running, and even though the lived close, it was still a few blocks to sprint.

Kacchan hunched further down in his chair and held up a palm by means of explanation, letting it crackle a bit with heat. Oh. That’s why his hands were smoking when he arrived. Kacchan had literally blasted himself to Izuku’s apartment. He’d thought the phone call was that urgent.

Izuku couldn’t help a smile. You care.

“Stop that,” Kacchan grumbled.

“Stop what?”

Kacchan stared at him for a second, eyes narrowed and ears almost red, then grabbed his tea and looked away, crossing his other arm under his chest. “Never mind.”

He and Kacchan should have parted ways a little while later, but Izuku inexplicably found himself still with the other boy late into the afternoon. He’d texted his mother to let her know he was out with a friend, intending to explain later, then he and Kacchan simply…hung out. Like normal people did.

After boba tea came some weird, silent understanding that neither of them were planning on leaving each other’s company at that time, then a walk through their neighborhood that was quiet except for Izuku occasionally pointing out interesting things he saw in windows or short conversations about strange people on the sidewalks. They eventually stumbled upon their old favorite topic of discussion, All Might, and suddenly it felt like miles and hours went by in a flash. The same back-and-forth they used to have as kids, but with the added witty banter of two teenagers that were comfortable around it each other.

It was so consuming – Kacchan was so consuming – that Izuku didn’t realize exactly how far they’d walked until they came upon the beach.

“Kacchan, I’m literally begging you,” he said, clasping his hands together and summoning his best doe-eyed pleading expression as the other boy made a point not to look at him, hands shoved deep in his pockets. They stopped at the railing to an empty beach lookout point.

“It’s not a fucking meet and greet, he’s coming to teach us shit,” Kacchan excused, like he could just tell Izuku that real life All Might was coming in to lecture his class and not expect Izuku to ask for something signed.

“He’ll have plenty of time,” Izuku begged, “Please, all I’m asking is one poster Kacchan please.” Kacchan didn’t respond and still refused to look at him, so Izuku grabbed his arm and yanked. “Pleeeeaaaase?” He shook Kacchan’s (extremely muscular) arm back and forth and watched his cheeks turn pink. “Please please please please please ple-”

“Fine!” Kacchan interrupted, glaring at him with an incredibly red face, “Just shut up!”

“Yes!” Izuku exclaimed, wrapping his arms all the way around Kacchan’s so he was practically hugging it to his chest, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He grinned up at him, and Kacchan immediately turned his wide-eyed attention back to the ocean. Izuku did the same, excited butterflies in his stomach as he dropped his head against Kacchan’s shoulder, not letting go of his arm but not thinking about any of that at all. A poster signed by the real All Might, that would be the most amazing thing he owned.

The ocean was glittering with the reflection of the low sun. He squinted out at the beach and the beautiful view, warmth blooming from his chest as his muscles relaxed, breathes coming slow and easy. Kacchan smelled like caramelized onions and smoke. It was a familiar and comforting smell, like laundry detergent or pinewood.

“Thanks for staying, Kacchan,” he mumbled peacefully, watching the small waves crash on the shore. Kacchan drew in a breath that was almost shaky.

“I wanted to,” he responded, and Izuku knew what he meant. He hugged his arm a little tighter, then let go.

“We should probably get home before our parents worry,” he said.

“Yeah,” Kacchan agreed, sounding a little hoarse until he cleared his throat, “Don’t need even more yelling from the hag.”

“You really shouldn’t call your mother that, Kacchan.”

“Ah, fuck, not you too.”

When Izuku finally got back home, it was nearing evening time, and his mother was busying herself with dinner preparations in the kitchen. He quickly sluffed off his shoes and went to help her. “I’m home!”

“There you are, Izuku,” she smiled, “You were out for a while!”

“Yeah, we kinda lost track of time,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He needed a haircut, he noticed just then. “Sorry.”

“Oh, it’s fine, honey,” his mother assured, grabbing a green onion and handing it to him to start cutting, “I’m really glad you were out with a friend? Who was it?”

“Uh…Kacchan,” Izuku said quietly as he started to chop, not looking over to see his mother’s reaction. “Turns out he’s not dating the blonde girl…so.”

“Hm,” was all his mother said in response.

“It was fun,” Izuku said, in defense of them both. He hated the idea of doing things his mother didn’t like. “He even apologized to me. I know that was hard for him.” He finally looked at his mother. “He’s really trying, mom.”

“Izuku,” his mother started, then sighed, “Honey, you don’t need to convince of the company you keep as long as they make you happy, alright? I don’t want to be that kind of mother.” She reached out to pat his arm. “I may not understand why you want to spend your time with that boy, but that’s your choice. Heaven knows I’ve read enough about teenagers to know telling you no won’t change anything.”

He laughed under his breath. “Thanks, mom.”

“So, what did you two do?”

--

“About fucking time you got back, brat.”

Katsuki huffed, kicking off his shoes and doing his best to ignore his mom, who’d started nagging the second he came in. His dad was lucky he was in a good mood else he might’ve started something with her.

“Well?” his mother said, tone demanding as she glared at him, arms crossed, “Where the hell were you?”

“With a friend,” he answered through gritted teeth, determined not to let her sour the leftovers of his day with Deku, “Like I told you.”

“Don’t be snappy with me, Katsuki,” his mom said, “No more going places without telling me.”

“Sure,” Katsuki said dismissively, starting past her and up the stairs to his room. She yelled something about dinner being ready in an hour, but he brushed her off. He’d just had the weirdest day of his life, he was not mentally capable of dealing with his mom’s shit on top of freaking out about Deku. He’d hugged Katsuki’s arm like it was a goddamn teddy bear. And Katsuki just stood there and let him because his brain was too fucking overloaded to do anything else.

As soon as he reached his room, he closed the door and flopped face down on his bed, fighting a smile into his pillow. Weirdest day of his life, yes, but a good one nonetheless. He and Deku had talked, and it wasn’t just “having a talk” it was actually having stupid little conversations about things that didn’t feel like pulling teeth. Things that they used to talk about in the golden moments where Katsuki must’ve forgotten to be a shithead. Things like All Might.

Who Katsuki now had to ask a favor from, apparently, but that was an issue for his future self. All current Katsuki had to worry about was how to get Deku to do that with him every day from now on. And still fit it into his busy schedule. Speaking of, he still had damn homework to do. Thanks, Aizawa.

The next day of school went by about as smoothly as one could expect a day at a heroics course full of idiots could go. That didn’t mean Todoroki, Camie, and Yoarashi didn’t find plenty of time to bother him about any and everything they could manage. They did plenty of that. Asking about his weekend, saying stupid things that got them all extra laps from Gang Orca, yelling far too loudly and obnoxiously, and generally being their same old selves.

Katsuki spent his last three days of remedial training doing his best not to blow the three stooges to pieces, trudging through therapy sessions that at least seemed to be getting less grueling with each passing week, and typing and deleting messages to Deku like he was some sort of coward. How in the world was this supposed to work? He should wait for Deku to reach out, right? Or was Deku waiting for him?

Sometimes he was tempted to shove his face into a pillow and scream about it all, but he focused on the nearing date of finally receiving his hero license instead. The thing he’d been wanting since the day he knew who All Might was and decided he wanted to be a hero. The thing he’d busted his ass for every day in UA and before. He’d noticed himself slipping the tiniest bit in these last few days of harsh training, been called out on it by Gang Orca, and it had certainly brought back nasty feelings he’d been hoping to leave behind.

Some of the same feelings that led him to leaving Deku in the first place. The instinct to blame him for his distractions, not himself.

But he found a little bit of pride in the fact that he overcame all that. Even more proud in the fact that he finally did get that damn license. He and Icy-Hot were tearing through the streets and making their debuts before the hour was through thanks to some D-tier villains and their shoddy robbery job. He’d rarely felt more alive than when explosions were billowing in his palms and challenges were rearing their ugly head.

He felt less alive when reporters got whiff of it all and demanded and interview. He hated reporters – pretending to be friendly with strangers was never a skill of his, nor did he care for it to be. And then the interviewer had to go an assume he and Half-n-Half were friends – and Todoroki agreed with her.

By the time the whole shitty endeavor was over, Katsuki was brimming with barely contained rage that had building the entire stress-filled week. Which is why, when he got a text, his first instinct was to hurl his phone into his wall. Thankfully he noticed it was from Deku before he did that. Then he just panicked.

Deku

>> I saw you on TV yesterday. very cool!! :D

>> I would’ve texted then but I figured you were very busy with hero things and I was very busy with band things haha

Katsuki’s heart stuttered in his chest and he thought about dropping his phone immediately – his mom would be pissed if he blew the thing up out of nervous sweats – but he forced himself to pull it together. It was a few exclamation points and a smiley emoticon, not a love confession or something or the sort. He could be chill about it.

<< thanks.

>> hows finally having your hero license? (congratulations btw)

Katsuki briefly wondered if Deku felt and bitterness about his own lack of a license – he’d once shared that dream too, after all. He tried to brush the thought away. If he did, he wouldn’t need any reminding of it.

<< fucking awesome, I can finally beat those shitty villain’s asses whenever I want

>> all of japan’s evil cowers before you I can only assume

<< are you fucking sassing me

>> I would never dream of it, oh great king explosion murder god (✿◠‿◠)

Katsuki felt his cheeks burn.

<< that’s a great name and I stand by it

>> of course you do

<< the hell is that supposed to mean??

>> nothing, kacchan :))

<< watch yourself

<< how are “band things” going?

>> uhhhh pretty good? we are all very stressed about hearing back from the record people but we’re trying to focus on just having fun like usual

<< must be hard for you because you freak out about everything

>> excuse you, kacchan, I am doing fine!! I only got close to crying once this week. not even actually crying!! just close

Katsuki snorted to the emptiness of his room, relaxing back into his desk chair with his textbook forgotten in front of him. He’d already memorized all the shit in there anyways.

<< damn, round of applause for you then

>> thank you very much, I’m bowing dramatically for your benefit :)

<< seems more like your own benefit but okay. the drama will serve you well as a future celebrity

>> don’t act like you’re not also dramatic and on a path to fame (not that I think I’ll ever be famous)

<< I am not fucking dramatic and if you’re not famous something is wrong with the world

>> you are dramatic, and I’m very flattered but something is in fact wrong with the world so… who knows what the future holds for a quirkless celebrity :/

Oh. Katsuki hadn’t thought about that. He should’ve thought about that. Now he just seemed callous – which he was, but he was trying to shed the bigotry part of that callousness. He’d learned that maybe quirkless people couldn’t be heroes, but that was simply by nature of the job, nothing to do with their worth. He’d learned firsthand just how amazing quirkless people could be. It was a fucking shameful thing how long it took him to work all his shit out, but most of the rest of the world was even further behind than he was.

He searched for anything to say that might help, but came up empty. Comforting words had never been his forte. He opted for honesty instead, as was his habit.

<< fuck anyone who thinks that makes you less than

>> thanks, kacchan. who knows, maybe I can even change a few hearts if this all does end up working out

Katsuki let out a tiny sigh of relief, glad he hadn’t fucked things up.

A thought suddenly popped into his head as he read Deku’s response. He typed it out and sent it without too much overthinking.

<< seems pretty damn heroic of you

Deku didn’t respond for a while, and Katsuki felt the doubt creep back in. Why would he say that? Why would he think he had the right to say that? Why wouldn’t he have just changed the subject? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

A message finally came through.

>> maybe

He changed the subject before Katsuki could put together a response.

>> hey do you want to hang out again this weekend?

<< sure. tomorrow afternoon? I can meet you at your place

>> you sure? my mom might be there…

<< I’m going to kill you

>> I’m telling my mom you said that :)

<< don’t you fucking dare

>> check mate, kacchan

--

Heroic was a weird way to put it. Izuku had no idea if it was an accurate way to put it, either. Calling himself heroic after giving up on those dreams what felt like so long ago lodged a funny feeling in his chest. He preferred not to think about it.

But it was certainly a touching thing for Kacchan, of all people, to say. He stared at the text for so long it felt burned into his vision.

He found himself smiling at it.

The next day, the early afternoon brought a knock on his front door. He didn’t rush to answer before his mother did, too busy trying to choose between different pairs of earrings – most of them gifts from Narumi or his mom. He finally forced himself to settle on small chains that his bandmates had insisted made him look like an idol, then grabbed his jean jacket and raced out his bedroom. Kacchan was at the door, engaged in some kind of silent face-off with his mother. He was pretty sure his mom was winning.

“Hey,” he said, breaking the awkward silence and rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he came up beside his mother, “Ready to go?”

Kacchan stared at him for a moment, a look of surprise softening into an expression that made Izuku’s insides feel like melted caramel. His lips hinted at a smile. “Sure.” Wow, Kacchan was pretty. Since when had Izuku started noticing that again?

His mom cleared her throat quietly, startling him out of his trance. “Great!” he said, desperately hoping his voice didn’t crack, “Let’s go! See you later, mom.” He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. She gave him a pat into the hallway and closed the door behind the both of them. “So,” Izuku said, shaking his head in an attempt to get a section of hair out of his face and easily summoning a grin, “what do you want to do?”

Kacchan shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“Well, alright,” Izuku said, “how about lunch to celebrate you finally getting your license? There’s this great place nearby that Narumi-chan showed me.” He started down the hall and Kacchan was quick to follow.

“Who the hell is Narumi-chan?” he asked.

“Oh, she’s my bandmate!” Izuku smiled, “The one with the water for hair – I guess I never actually told you any of their names. Fukui-san is the drummer and Asa-kun is the guitarist. They’re pretty cool.” Kacchan made a small hm noise in the back of his throat. “How about you, Kaccha, do you have any new friends?”

Kacchan scowled. “Absolutely not.”

Izuku bit back a laugh as the exited his building. “What makes you so opposed?”

“Everyone in UA is a dumbass,” Kacchan announced, “and I want nothing to do with them.”

“Aren’t they future heroes?” Izuku asked, “And your future coworkers? Seems like people you’d have to get along with.”

“I have to do nothing,” Kacchan corrected, crinkling up his nose in a way Izuku had always secretly thought was cute, “Especially not getting along with Icy-Hot.”

“What did Todoroki-san ever do to you?” Izuku asked with a tiny smile at Kacchan’s familiar antics.

“He did fuckin’ plenty!” Kacchan said, throwing his hands up, “No fair fight in the sports fest, annoying me daily in remedial training, getting in my fucking way, and turning our interview into a goddamn disaster, to start with!”

“Interview?”

Kacchan scowled like the entire world had done something particularly offensive. “The media is the worst. Buncha’ rats saw me kick ass yesterday and demanded Icy-Hot and I talk to them. Sensei said I had to do it.”

Izuku frowned, mind forming an equation including “Kacchan”, “public speaking”, and “nothing good”. He tried to keep his frown from a grimace. “And how did that go?”

“Take a fucking guess, Deku. It went like shit.”

Chapter Text

By the time Kacchan got done griping about the apparent disaster that was his and Todoroki’s interview with the news station, they’d ordered food at the restaurant café and chosen a table to wait at. Izuku honestly found Kacchan’s whole rant rather funny, especially the image of monotone Todoroki insisting they were friends despite Kacchan’s protests otherwise. Apparently, Izuku had quite the wrong impression of the Number Two hero’s son. He hoped he could talk to him someday.

“Maybe you should just let him be your friend,” Izuku suggested, mostly to see how Kacchan reacted. He looked positively disgusted.

“Never.”

Izuku laughed and faked a pout. “But Kacchan, if you’re his friend then maybe you could get me his signature!”

Kacchan’s face fell remarkably fast. “What.”

“The new hero Shouto’s signature would be pretty valuable to have,” Izuku continued, only half teasing, “People are going to be all over the son of Endeavor.”

Kacchan narrowed his eyes and Izuku wondered what he was thinking. “So you want his signature to sell?”

“No, I want it because he’s a hero,” Izuku grinned, watching Kacchan’s face turn pinker, “and I love everything hero related!” If Izuku didn’t know any better, he might think Kacchan was a little jealous.

“I’m a fucking-” Kacchan started, only to be cut off by Izuku being unable to hold back his laughter any longer. Kacchan’s glare melted into a realization and huffed in aggravation. “Fuck you, Deku.”

“I’m only half-joking!” Izuku giggled, pressing two knuckled to his lips as he fought his grin, “Shouto is really cool.” He tilted his head a bit and raised his eyebrows in a show of reluctant thought. “And kinda hot, no pun intended.”

The sound of a miniature explosion probably startled all the other patrons half out of their minds, but Izuku was almost immune thanks to his childhood full of sudden, accidental explosions (might not be the safest instinct to lose, now that he thought about it). Kacchan quickly shoved the offending hands in his pockets as Izuku’s eyebrows inched higher in surprise. Well. That was unexpected.

“Kacchan…you okay?”

Kacchan glowered at him with red ears and said through gritted teeth, “I’m fine.” Izuku was very glad he managed not to laugh that time. Kacchan muttered something under his breath.

“What?” Izuku asked, leaning forward a bit.

“I’m a fucking hero too,” Kacchan said again, just loud enough for him to hear, keeping his eyes solidly on the wood of the table. It took a second for Izuku to fully realize what that meant. He grinned.

“You sure are.” He nudged Kacchan’s boot under the table with his own red sneakers. “But don’t worry, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight has had his place on the list far longer than Shouto.” His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it in favor of grinning wider at Kacchan as the other boy glanced up at him. “And he’s a little higher up.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Kacchan grumbled, kicking Izuku’s foot. Izuku snorted.

“Can’t believe you’re jealous of Todoroki, Kacchan,” he teased.

“I am not,” Kacchan insisted, stepping on Izuku’s toes this time,

“Just like you’re not afraid of my mom?” Izuku smirked, stepping on both of Kacchan’s boots and essentially declaring an under-the-table war. But before that could start – and before Kacchan could snap back at him – a waitress came to their table to deliver their food. Izuku gave her the cheeriest thank you he could manage, then took a long sip of his melon soda. “I’m honored that my good will warrants your jealously, Kacchan.” His phone buzzed again.

“I’m going to kill you,” Kacchan threatened, but Izuku was too distracted by his phone suddenly going crazy with notifications to come up with a proper retort.

“Maybe after I silence my phone,” he said with a frown, pulling the offending device out his pocket as it continued buzzing with repeated messages, “What is going on here?” He glanced up at Kacchan. “Is it okay if I check this?”

Kacchan just shrugged. “I’m as fucking curious as you are now.”

Izuku opened his phone to find that almost all the notifications were from his band’s groupchat. His chest tightened like his heart didn’t know whether to race or stop entirely. That could either mean Asa was starting trivial arguments over cartoon characters again, or something happened with the recording agency. He forced himself to click and find out.

COLLISION COURSE!!

BeachHairDontCare: HOLYL SHIT OH MRY FOD YOU HUY SID YOU SEE THE EMSIAL

BeachHairDontCare: FOMR THE PROUDCERW PEOPLE

BeachHairDontCare: WEGOT SINGED

spiderqueen: what??

Asama: HOLY SHIT?????

BeachHairDontCare: CHECK YRY EMIAL

spiderqueen: oh my god

Asama: OH MY GOD

BeachHairDontCare: OH MY GODDDDD

BeachHairDontCare: DEKU-KUN WHERE ARE YOU

What followed was an obscene amount of screaming in all caps and keysmashes, and Izuku quickly switched over to his email. Lo and behold, there was a notification from the agent his mother had hired, who he had only met that very week, an email forwarded from Tsuchiya Records attached. Izuku was enough in his right mind to gather that the record company did, in fact, want to sign him and the band, and they were supposed to meet at a date he dropped his phone before reading. He felt like he was about to pass out.

“Deku?” Kacchan said, brows furrowed in concern, “Are you okay?”

Izuku’s breathing suddenly felt shallow, his eyes wide and palms sweating. “They want to sign us,” he wheezed, like he’d been punched in the gut. “Oh my god.”

“Holy shit,” Kacchan gasped, just like everyone else had, “Okay, are you about to pass out? I thought that was a good thing?”

“It is!” Izuku said, a bit louder than he meant to. He quickly covered his face with his hands and tried to get his breathing under control. “It is, it’s just a lot!” He raked his hands up through his hair, propping his elbows up on the table and keeping his head down. He felt like he was about to throw up and he hadn’t even touched the food in front of him. None of this felt real. Was it real?

“Deku,” Kacchan tried slowly, “Uh…deep breaths.” Izuku appreciated the sentiment, but he was already trying that. “Do you need to go outside?”

“No,” Izuku breathed, bringing his head back up and ruffling his hair, “No, I’m okay. I’m totally okay.” He laughed, sounding even to himself like a crazed man. “Totally fine!”

“I don’t believe you,” Kacchan deadpanned. Izuku drew in the deepest breath he could managed, held it almost as long as he could, then let it out in a calming release. He looked up to meet Kacchan’s eyes and managed a smile.

“I’m totally okay,” he repeated, the shake of his voice just barely contained.

Kacchan quirked up a brow. “You react to good news in the weirdest ways I’ve ever seen.”

“I cope,” Izuku countered, rubbing at his temples, “But I think that reaction was entirely understandable and even understated, given the circumstances.”

“Sure.”

Izuku exhaled again, letting his arms drop to the table as a much more genuine smile spread across his face. “This is crazy.”

“Mm hm,” Kacchan hummed, smirking at him. Izuku felt his face turn red as reality fully set it. They actually wanted to sign him. It wasn’t official yet, but it could be soon, then he’d be on the road to do the only thing he’d ever been passionate about besides hero work. He wouldn’t be some nothing quirkless kid who couldn’t amount to anything – he’d somehow slipped through the cracks.

How long could that last?

Izuku quickly shook his head like he could wipe that thought out of the sands of his brain. It was not the time for anxiety. This was a time for celebrating.

The next few weeks went by faster than he could’ve imagined, too busy stressing about every little thing to notice the time pass. He and his friends and all their parents met with the agent and record company, signed a bunch of paperwork that made him glad there seemed to be plenty of other people that weren’t him to know what was going on, and suddenly it was like the rocket had been launched. He spent the majority of his time with his trusty guitar and notebook duo, furiously scribbling away to create the best songs he could, or practicing with his bandmates, whether in their club room or Fukui’s basement, all while juggling his schoolwork on the side.

In fact, the only moments that time seemed to slow down, that things didn’t seem to whizz by him too fast to comprehend, was when Kacchan was there. Either right in front of him, teasing him about being too high-strung (hypocrite) and dolling out casual, possibly accidental compliments, or through his phone as he worked at his desk and tried not to fall asleep. It became such a routine that Kacchan’s gruff tone formed some Pavlovian response in his brain, a mere word draining all the tightness from his muscles until he was sunk halfway down in his seat, having just realized how much he needed to sleep.

There were other symptoms to spending time with Kacchan, too. Constant blushing and a strange warmth in his chest were among the top two, closely followed by the inability to stop smiling and the urge to say a whole lot of cheesy things Kacchan would probably laugh at. It was a dangerous slope, if he were being honest with himself, but he was too desperate for any sort of calm that he didn’t think he’d survive distancing himself.

“You sound like shit,” said Kacchan’s rough voice through his phone. Izuku almost didn’t hear what he’d said, too busy being hypnotized half to sleep by the way he said it. His head was propped up by a cheek to the palm and was slowly succumbing to the forces of gravity. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s slammed his head into his desk by accident. “Deku.”

“Huh?” Izuku hummed, a tad startled. “What?”

Kacchan huffed. “You falling asleep on me again?”

“No,” Izuku lied, scrunching his eyes shut then back open again. “I’m…eugh, I’m wide awake over here.”

“Sure you are,” Kacchan drawled flatly. Izuku could practically hear the annoyed expression on his pretty face. “I don’t want to hear your ass start snoring again, that shit’s loud as hell.”

“Hey, I hardly snore,” Izuku protested, pouting to his empty bedroom, “My mom says I just breathe a little strong in my sleep.”

Kacchan snorted. “Right, and Auntie is the best source for truthful information on your motorboat snoring.”

Izuku crinkled up his nose and made a soft noise of disapproval. “You could just hang up, you know. Then you wouldn’t have to hear it.”

“And leave you to sleep on your desk and wake up with a fucked-up neck?” Kacchan said, “Don’t think you’d appreciate that, Deku.”

“So kind, Kacchan,” Izuku muttered, bringing up his other hand to cup his face from both sides with a low groan.

“Go to bed, Deku, whatever you’re doing will be there in the morning.”

It’s a conversation they’d had many times before. They’d probably had it just the previous night, but Izuku could hardly remember what he’d eaten for dinner an hour ago, let alone yesterday evening. Kacchan always seemed to stay up far past the time he’d usually fall asleep – call it his “bedtime” and risk getting blown up – just to make sure Izuku got proper rest himself. It really was sweet of him, though Izuku felt a little guilty for it. Maybe he should fix his sleep schedule just to save Kacchan all this trouble.

“I’m almost done,” Izuku said anyway, practically following a script as he stared down at his illegible, scribbly notebook. Was his handwriting getting worse, or was it his eyesight?

“You’re going to be saying that until sunrise, Deku,” Kacchan said, absolutely correct in the assumption, “Now get to bed before I call Auntie.”

“My mom knows I’m up,” Izuku muttered, but pushed himself out his chair regardless.

“Fine, I’ll come over there myself,” Kacchan threatened, like there was anything Izuku wanted more than to fall asleep in those sturdy arms. He’d tuck his head under Kacchan’s chin and hug him tight, breathing in that warm, fabric softener-and-caramel combo. He could card his fingers through Kacchan’s scruffy blond hair until he passed out. Sleep would come so easily then.

“I can strap you to the bed like it’s an ambulance stretcher and knock your lights out with a good explosion. Your ears ‘ll still be ringing when you wake up and we’ll see how good of a workaholic singer you are then.”

The lovely image Kacchan painted in that slightly smug, teasing gravel tone of his were quick to wipe Izuku’s previous fantasies from his sleepy mind and made him realize he must be really out of it if he was letting the daydreams get that far. He exhaled, almost a laugh, ruffling a hand through his hair and moving to change into pajamas.

“Thanks, Kacchan, that’d be really helpful,” he said sarcastically, smiling a bit as he pulled his dirty shirt off over his head and slipped on a clean one. He shed his shorts and reached for a pair of All Might themed pajama pants.

“You sound disappointed, would you rather I spoon you to sleep? ‘Cause-”

Kacchan was cut off by Izuku – who had had one foot halfway through the leg of his pants as he balanced precariously on the other – toppling to the ground with a yelp and narrowly missing knocking his head on his dresser door knobs. “Shit!”

“Deku?” Kacchan said at the same time his mother yelled, “Izuku?” and came running into his room.

“Izuku, are you alright?” she asked, worrying her hands together and going to help him.

“Yup!” he blurted quickly, face bright red and burning. He forced himself to his feet with a groan before his mother could offer a hand. “Totally fine, I just…tripped.”

His mother seemed confused, but she nodded anyways. “Okay…well, I’m going to bed now.”

“Good night, mom,” he managed, choking through an almost-voice crack as he shoved his other leg through his pant leg and went to hug his mother and plant a kiss on her cheek. She left, the door shut behind her, and Kacchan burst out laughing through the phone on his desk. Izuku’s ears burned ever hotter at that, and he wiped his sweaty palms on his shirt and thanked his lucky stars that Kacchan couldn’t actually see his reaction to the offer to cuddle – which had obviously been a joke. “Shut up.”

“What the fuck was that?” Kacchan guffawed, far too entertained at Izuku’s expense, “Are you so tired you can’t stand now?”

He’d much rather blame it on that than the actual reason he’d fallen. He grabbed his phone off his desk and flopped backwards onto his bed with a soft oof. “Stop teasing me,” he pouted.

“Nah,” Kacchan responded. Izuku could easily imagine him sitting his own bedroom, lounging back in his desk chair, legs splayed with that stupidly attractive smirk on his face. He felt his cheeks flush. He hated that he blushed even when Kacchan was nowhere near him.

“I’m in bed,” Izuku told him, “You happy now?”

“Go to sleep, then we’ll see,” Kacchan ordered.

“I can’t, you’re talking to me,” Izuku smiled, “Guess one of us has gotta hang up.”

“Gladly,” Kacchan deadpanned, “But how do I know you won’t go right back to your bullshit?”

“Trust me?” Izuku suggested.

“You don’t have a great track record.”

Izuku laughed quietly, hoping he wasn’t bothering his mom. “Alright, alright. I swear on All Might that I’ll go right to sleep.” He closed his eyes with a sigh. “Now that I’m in bed I don’t think I’ll be able to get back out anyways.”

“Fucking finally,” Kacchan said.

Izuku smiled at his ceiling, but the curl of guilt in his chest flared. Kacchan sounded just as tired as he did. “You know, you don’t have to stretch yourself thin for my sake, Kacchan. I’m not your responsibility.”

“What, you think I can’t deal with some shitty nerd like you?” Kacchan retorted with his usual swagger.

Izuku kept his voice genuine. “I don’t want to be treated like a chore, or have you choose my health of yours. I don’t need you to take care of me.”

There was a pause on the other end and Izuku worried that he’d – that they’d made some sort of misstep. But eventually, Kacchan’s voice came back, equally genuine in his own way. “I know. You’re not a chore. I just figured it was about time I pull my own weight over here.”

Izuku shifted a bit on his mattress, pressing his cheek in his pillow and feeling a now-familiar warmth begin to unfurl in his chest. It wasn’t the same as the butterflies or the heated cheeks, it was something far deeper, something that came from his complicated relationship with the boy on the other end of the line and path they’d agreed to take together. Izuku didn’t quite know where it was leading yet, but he was glad to be by Kacchan’s side.

“Well then, allow me to return the favor,” he suggested with the hint of a smile on his lips, “Tell me your troubles, Kacchan.”

“Ask again in the morning,” Kacchan deflected, “I’m going to bed. Night, Deku.”

Izuku conceded for the moment. “Good night, Kacchan.”

When the call disconnected, his phone screen lit up to let him know he’d been on the call with Kacchan for one hour, fifty-six minutes, and forty-one seconds. Their record at the moment was nearly three hours.

Izuku shut the phone off and set it on his bedside table to charge, clicking off his lamp and shuffling under the covers. He sincerely hoped Kacchan didn’t have too many troubled to discuss – his grudges against his classmates didn’t count, as he had plenty of those and was always ready to rant about them as Izuku trudged his way through calculus homework and felt eternally grateful for the entertainment. He knew Kacchan was putting himself through some sort of atonement, but he wasn’t so sure about the idea of Kacchan continuously trying to make something up to him. At what point did he say the price was paid, the forgiveness was earned, and life could now go on as if nothing had ever happened?

He didn’t want Kacchan to apologize to him forever. No matter how hurt he had been or how angry he still was at the person Kacchan used to be, things were so incredibly different now it felt useless to hold on so strongly to the past. Izuku was tired of licking his wounds and forcing himself to keep at least some sort of distance between him and the other boy. He wanted it behind them.

He wanted to build on the new thing they had. He wanted to nourish that. He wanted to grow that.

He sighed into his blanket, remembering nights of his childhood with Kacchan tangled in the bedsheets beside him, or middle school days with pinkies hooked together in the privacy of an empty park, chaste kisses behind a tree.

He thought of the way Kacchan looked at him now, almost like how he did back then but amplified a hundred times, a thousand times, until a mere glance from those bonfire red eyes made Izuku melt. Before the breakup, those looks had been brief, split-second flashes behind a wall a through smudged layers of glass. Izuku had held onto them like a lifeline. Proof that Kacchan really did feel the same.

Now, the wall had been torn down, the glass shattered, and handfuls of kindling had been thrown into the flame.

What Izuku would give to know Kacchan’s feelings rather than guess, to know his own. What he would give to have him here right now, to hear his heartbeat and his solid comfort that could never be blown down. Kacchan was his salvation in the storm of his life, and each second it was harder to deny that his feelings had not gone away.

Quite the opposite, really.

--

Having a hero license was exhausting. The harsh training at school was exhausting. Therapy sessions were exhausting. Supporting Deku was exhausting. But it was all worth it.

God, it was all more than worth it when Katsuki took down another villain, improved his skills a tenfold in mere months, felt certain walls start to crumble, and watched Deku do something he was always meant to do. It didn’t matter how many times he stayed up an extra hour to make sure Deku fell asleep or skipped out on a workout session to get Deku out of the house at least once a week, because at some point Deku would grin at him and he’d be tripping over his own feet to do it all over again. He was that far gone.

But now, apparently, Deku was intent on supporting Katsuki in return. He didn’t know how to feel about that. This was an atonement. He didn’t need anything in return. And a smaller, uglier part of him was still frothing at the mouth to scream about not needing or wanting help, not being weak. He did his best to shove that part down.

“So,” Deku said with that sunny grin that made Katsuki want to barf his own heart out so it would stop acting like such a pathetic loser, fluttering around and making him sweat, “lay it on me.” He was sitting across from Katsuki at a lonely table in an empty park, a few pastries from a nearby café spread between them. His sneakered feet swung back and forth under the table as he refused to look away from Katsuki.

“Uh,” Katsuki started eloquently, “this feels really fucking weird.”

“If talking about your feelings feels really freaking weird then it’s a good thing you’re still in therapy,” Deku said without a hint of sting to it. Katsuki still scowled at him.

“Fuck you, I do just fine with the dog man,” he huffed, “Just not you.”

Deku frowned, a flash of hurt crossing his face, and Katsuki wondered what he’d said wrong. “Oh.”

Katsuki cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to backtrack as he picked at the corner of a pastry and glanced out at the street. “I meant…you’re…fuck, I don’t know.” He forced a deep breath, screwing his eyes shut before letting it all out and looking at Deku again. “I don’t give a shit about what Hound Dog thinks of me. And I…” he trailed off, unsure of how to explain all his convoluted feelings about earning Deku’s forgiveness.

“Oh,” Deku said again, eye widening a bit, “Kacchan, I want you to talk to me.”

Katsuki blinked at him in surprise. Once again, Deku understood him perfectly. Of fucking course. He had to bite his lip to keep himself from blurting something stupid, or possibly crying.

“I’m fine,” he assured instead, “You have plenty of your own shit to worry about.”

“Kacchan,” Deku said, like a scolding teacher. He huffed. “How many times have I said that exact same thing to you?”

Katsuki thought for a second, frowning in annoyance. “A shit ton.”

“And how many times have you called me stupid for it?” Deku pressed on.

“A shit ton,” Katsuki admitted, smiling a bit despite himself, “How’s a taste of your own medicine?”

Deku gave him a staunching unamused look, then exhaled softly. “Kacchan…I know you’re really committed to all this atoning and earning. I know that. I need it, too.” He paused, and Katsuki waited tensely for him to continue. Deku rubbed a hand over his gorgeous freckled face. “But I hate being stuck on the receiving end and not being allowed to give back. We can’t work like that.”

Katsuki scowled. “You don’t owe me-”

“It’s not about owing!” Deku interrupted. Katsuki noticed the tears in the corners of his eyes with a start. “It’s about me being sick and tired of…” he cut himself off with an exasperated groan, raking his hands through his hair and bowing his head for a brief moment. “I don’t want to look at you and know you’re only thinking about the bad times.” He drew in a shaky breath. “I want to move forward. You can…you can make it up to me by doing it better this time around.”

A shock directly to his arm from Kaminari would’ve been less sudden and disorienting that everything Deku had just implied in a single sentence. Katsuki had no idea if he was even interpreting things correctly, too untrusting of his skills in disbelieving in his conclusion to be sure that he hadn’t made some kind of grave mistake.

But Deku’s green eyes had that determined glint, shining with unshed tears and steadfast in their decision. Katsuki felt his heart squeeze in his chest. Do it better this time around.

This time around.

A second chance.

He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t know if he’d ever feel deserving of it. But Deku wasn’t offering it for him to take, he was asking. He was needing Katsuki to do this, even if Katsuki didn’t quite understand why. And he couldn’t stand the thought of ever hurting Deku again.

He’d work for the rest of his life to earn it if he had to.

“I’m tired most of the time.” Deku blinked at him and sniffled. He swallowed the knot in his throat and continued, “I knew being a hero would be a shit ton of work but it’s still a lot. Not to mention everyone judging my every fucking move nowadays.”

Deku sniffled again, his eyebrows ruffling in concern even as his mouth quirked up into a tiny smile. “That sucks. Want to talk about it?”

Katsuki laughed under his breath as the unnatural invitation, smirking a bit. “Not really, but I could try.” He sat up a little straighter, searching for the right words to describe how it felt to be judged so harshly for things often out of his control, to be blamed for damages, to hold literal lives in his own two hands. It suddenly felt very difficult to complain.

A light screech of metal against concrete distracted him from his thoughts, and he glanced up to find Deku shifting himself and his chair around the small round table until he was right next to Katsuki. He shuffled even closer before Katsuki could ask, snaking one arm around his waist and pressing their shoulders together.

“What’s this?” Katsuki asked, thrown out of his element again.

“Trying something else,” Deku murmured, squeezing him a little tighter with a soft smile. For some inexplicable reason, Katsuki felt himself relax again. The chatter in his mind faded to background noise as he let his head drop to the side until it was resting on top of Deku’s. His hair was soft against Katsuki’s cheek, his body warm where they touched, and Katsuki was overwhelmed by the urge to hold him even closer.

It was like some dam inside of him shattered, a heavy weight gushing out of his chest, and he reached out to pull Deku onto his lap and bury his face in the other boy’s shirt. It was crying without the tears, every emotion locked behind an iron door flooding out and dissolving slowly in Deku’s sunlight.

And Deku held him back just as tight, running his fingers through Katsuki’s hair as he struggled to keep his breathing under control. “This works too,” he said quietly.

Katsuki listened to Deku, Deku listened to him. Even if they each had different ways of talking.

Chapter Text

The conversation caused what might have been the biggest shift in their relationship to date. Before, there had been some kind of separator between them. Maybe it was Deku’s hesitance to trust him again, maybe it was Katsuki’s guilt driving him to keep a safe distance. But whatever it was, it wasn’t there anymore. Deku tore it down in a single request.

You can make it up to me by doing better this time around.

Everything had been laid out in the open, every barrier broken down and discarded, and it was fucking terrifying. Katsuki was fucking terrified.

But he was Bakugou fucking Katsuki, who didn’t cower from anything, so that didn’t stop him from searching Deku out every chance he got so they could stumble through these new routines and dynamics, hand and hand – sometimes literally.

Oftentimes he’d find Deku, drag him away from whatever he was slaving over, and force him to rest. Sometimes forcing him to rest meant taking a walk down to the beach and back, talking about anything and everything until whatever was troubling them felt small. Sometimes it was a more literal approach, with Katsuki using his strength and size advantage to pull Deku out of his desk chair and drag him down into the nearest bed, then hold him there until he finally deflated against his chest.

But the moments were as beneficial for him as he could tell they were for Deku. Somehow, Deku could always tell when his day had been particularly rough, whether it had been overexertion during training or yet another comment about his personality being too villainous. Maybe it was in the same way that Katsuki could recognize the dull in the other boy’s green eyes, or the way he chewed at the inside of his lip and couldn’t keep his hands still when he was on the verge of tears. Whatever Katsuki’s tells were, Deku knew them, and he was always more than willing to let Katsuki pull him onto his lap and bury his face in his shoulder, listening to him ramble on about Asa’s latest attempt to flirt with another singer they’d met at the studio, the new song Narumi helped him write, or how he almost sung a whole song into the wrong side of a microphone and died of embarrassment. It was good. They were good.

Even Hound Dog and the people from UA noticed the change. Small comments that used to light his fuse were easily brushed off, moves he’d been struggling with finally turned out. He even smiled once at a stupid joke Kaminari cracked, not thinking it was funny in the slightest but knowing Deku would’ve thought it hilarious. He’d decided not to do that anymore, though, given the reaction from his classmates. They didn’t stop pelting him with shitty puns for the rest of the week.

Whenever Katsuki knocked on the Midoriya’s apartment door, it was almost always Auntie who answered. He might say the two of them had made a grudging compromise. Auntie had once pulled him aside to let him know just how grudging.

“I love my son more than anything in this world,” she’d said, green eyes serious. Katsuki had to bite his tongue so he didn’t blurt me too. “And you seem to be the only person who can get through to him right now. You make him happy.” She’d let out a tired exhale as Katsuki felt his palms start to sweat. “But you will never hurt him again.”

It hadn’t been a request. It hadn’t even been a threat. It had been a statement. A steadfast statement that Katsuki would never make his old mistakes again. He was being given no room to.

He was glad for it.

“Never,” he’d agreed.

Now, Midoriya Inko opened the door and almost looked relieved to see him there. “He’s in his room,” she said without pretext, stepping aside to let Katsuki in. Katsuki gave her a small bow before darting inside, kicking off his shoes in the genkan, and opening Deku’s door without so much as a knock.

It was a fucking mess in there. The floor was littered with crumpled sheets of paper and dirty laundry, bed about as far from made as it could get, desk covered in open textbooks and half-finished notes pages. Deku was the center of it all, huddled on his beanbag chair with his guitar on the floor next to him, new keyboard he was learning to play at his other side, songwriting notebook in hand as he scribbled away furiously. He looked even worse than his room. His hair was a total mess, bangs pushed back by a crooked headband, and he was wearing a rumpled All Might t-shirt Katsuki was pretty sure he was still wearing the last time they saw each other.

Katsuki mentally kicked himself for not checking his phone during his therapy appointment, when Deku had texted him in the middle of what had obviously been a freak-out. When he’d finally left Hound Dog’s office, he’d opened his phone to a series off frantic texts that he puzzled out the meaning of by texting Auntie on his way to the apartment, eventually discovering that Collision Course’s producers wanted to release “good for you” as a single before the entire album. And they wanted to release it in two weeks.

Deku, apparently, had panicked.

“’m busy, mom,” he muttered, not looking up.

“No you’re not,” Katsuki said, stalking across the room and grabbing Deku’s notebook right out of his hands. The pen he’d been writing with left a streak across the paper as he whipped his head up with wide eyes and tried to hold onto the notebook. Katsuki tossed it onto his mess of a desk before he could. “Get up.”

“Kacchan!” Deku gasped, “Give that back.”

“Nope,” Katsuki replied, snatching the pen next to Deku’s yelp of dismay, “Get up.”

“I need to work!” Deku protested, trying to grab then pen out of his hand without standing from the beanbag, “I have to make sure it’s all perfect!”

“It already is perfect,” Katsuki huffed, throwing the pen back onto the desk too, “Now. Get. Up.”

“It’s not perfect,” Deku said, “What if there’s a mistake and I-”

“That was your last warning,” Katsuki interrupted, then leaned down to hoist Deku into his arms as the other boy yelped in surprised. Katsuki shifted him into a bridal carry, ignoring his demands to be put down until he got to the living room and dumped him unceremoniously onto the couch.

“That was hardly necessary!” Deku whined, scrambling up until he was sitting on the couch, facing Katsuki with his nose crinkled up in annoyance.

“Yes it was,” Katsuki corrected, crossing his arms, “You’re doing it again.”

“I am not doing it again,” Deku denied huff, referring to what one of his bandmates had once called his panic setting. That time when all logical thought in his brain shut off in favor of rewriting or playing the same songs over and over again in a desperate attempt to feel more in control. Katsuki grabbed his arm before he could escape off the couch, holding him there as he groaned. “Kacchan, let me go.”

“No,” Katsuki said simply, plopping down on the Midoriya’s couch and yanking Deku on top of him as he laid back.

“I’m not panicking!” Deku protested with an increasingly shaking breath, struggling against Katsuki hold around his arms. But this had happened before, and Katsuki knew what he was doing. He just held Deku tightly and relaxed as much as he could. “I’m not! I’m fine!”

“Bullshit,” Katsuki muttered, pressing his nosed into Deku’s shoulder as the other boy started to shake.

“I’m not- I have to,” Deku said, breathing quickening as he started crying in earnest, his voice losing the panicked edge and dissolving into a soft plea. “I can’t mess it up.”

“You won’t,” Katsuki said, without an ounce of comfort or coddling in his tone. It was statement of a fact.

Deku started crying even harder, turning over in Katsuki’s arms to press his face into his chest, fists gripping at the shirt of his school uniform. His back shook with his gasping breaths, and Katsuki just let him cry, having now realized that it was Deku’s best way of release. He denied his struggling so often that breakdowns became necessary parts of fixing things.

All Katsuki could do was run his fingers through his tangled hair and provide that shoulder to cry on. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say his entire chest was there for Deku to cry on. It was only a little gross.

Eventually, Deku’s sobs started to wind down, his grip on the shirt loosening as his body seemed to deflate, relaxing into Katsuki’s. He sniffled loudly.

“How many times have I told you that my shirt ain’t a tissue,” Katsuki muttered, making him laugh wetly.

“It still makes a pretty good one,” he responded quietly, turning his head and shuffling up so his cheek was resting on Katsuki’s collarbone. Katsuki felt his ears burn but forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He could be flustered about this after helping Deku sort his shit out.

“You gonna talk about it?” he asked.

For a long moment, the only sounds were Deku’s slow breathing and sniffles. Finally, he said, “They want to release ‘good for you’ in a few weeks. They didn’t tell us until this afternoon.”

“Assholes,” Katsuki muttered, combing his fingers through Deku’s hair absentmindedly.

“Apparently they’re almost done with mixing it, even,” Deku continued. Katsuki furrowed his brows.

“Then why were you rewriting it?”

Deku exhaled in a tired laugh, “Panic setting, maybe. I don’t think it could’ve made any difference.”

Katsuki smirked at the ceiling. “Sounds like you.”

“Oh, shut it,” Deku sighed, “I’m pretty sure I had a panic attack when I found out. I wasn’t exactly thinking straight.”

“I could tell,” Katsuki said, shoving down anger at the producers. Thinking violent things wasn’t productive.

“Thanks for coming,” Deku murmured after a moment’s pause, “You helped.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Katsuki said, then tried for a joke, “Emotional support and a little eye candy.”

Deku snorted in a surprised laugh, then a louder one. Katsuki grinned despite his embarrassment. He’d say anything to make Deku laugh, he’d learned. It was the auditory equivalent of flying. “Yes, who needs a therapist when I have a handsome boy to cry on,” Deku smiled, placing his hands at each side of Katsuki’s head on the couch arm and pushing himself up until their eyes met. Katsuki felt his face go up in flame.

“A handsome boy,” he repeated, coughing a bit in the back of his throat and struggling to stay smooth, “Is that all I am to you?”

“You said it first, not me,” Deku said, his freckled cheeks flushed pink. Katsuki’s heart tripped over itself in his chest. It was the moments like this that the lines in his relationship with Deku felt even more blurred, and he wondered to himself exactly how much of what they used to be did Deku want to retry.

Katsuki, for his part, could no longer deny that he was fully and incredibly into the freckled sun in front of him. He tore all his walls down for Deku and he’d let him do whatever he wanted on the other side. He’d kill and die for him. He was possibly probably in love with him.

But he refused to make the first move in this complicated game of chess. That line was Deku’s to cross and his alone. Katsuki in no way deserved to ask for more than he had.

That didn’t make it any easier to hear Deku call him handsome, look into his jewel-bright eyes with their faces mere inches apart, feel their breaths mix between them, and not kiss him, though. That was almost physically painful.

It was Auntie Inko who finally spared him, knocking quietly on the side of her open bedroom doorway to announce her presence. It still startled the both of them so badly Katsuki thought Deku was about to fall off the couch and held his hip a little tighter than what might’ve been strictly necessary. He was just being careful or whatever.

“Boys,” she said, and Katsuki felt a shock of fear down his spine at her knowing tone. He would be lying if he said he never worried about what Auntie would think if she found out that he wanted to kiss the living daylights out of her son. But instead of stomping over to pull Deku off and boot him out of her house, she just said, “What do you want for dinner?”

Deku blinked at her for a second, his face slowly losing the bright red hue it had had when she walked in. “Is Kacchan staying?”

Katsuki had the same thought, because Auntie’s question sounding suspiciously like an invitation to do so. She confirmed that when she said, “If his mother says he can,” as she made her way to the kitchen.

Deku broke into a slow grin as he looked back down at Katsuki and raised his eyebrows. “That’s good progress,” he whispered, then leaned in a little closer with a teasing smirk. He must’ve been trying to give Katsuki a heart attack and an early death. “Think you can manage a whole dinner?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki hissed as his face burned hotter than black pavement in the height of summer, putting his hand over Deku’s face before he lost all semblance of self-control. “We have a truce to take care of your dumb ass.”

“Glad to hear it,” Deku said, reaching up to wrestle Katsuki’s hand off his face. Somehow, their fingers ended up interlaced as they struggled back and forth, Deku trying to pin his arm down and Katsuki refusing to let him.

“You realize you’re not winning this,” Katsuki smirked. Deku just narrowed his eyes and pushed on his hand even harder. “Come on, you can do better than that, Deku,” he teased.

“I hate you,” Deku said, adding his other hand to the mix and leaning his weight into Katsuki’s hand. Katsuki refused to budge, as this was now a matter of pride. “Oh my god,” Deku exclaimed, “How.”

“Hero work’s gotta be good for something,” Katsuki said, allowing himself a bit of indulgence and showing off. But that was before Deku suddenly reached down and dug his fingers into Katsuki’s side, the one spot on his entire body where he was ticklish. He just barely stopped himself from shouting a swear word loud enough for Auntie to hear, losing focus and allowing Deku to pin his hand down.

“Ha!” Deku laughed triumphantly, leaning in with a smug grin. Katsuki glared at him even as thoughts of kissing his stupid face right then and there seeped back into his mind. See how he likes sudden distractions.

“Have you talked to your mother yet, Katsuki-kun?”

Once again, saved by Auntie.

--

Kacchan’s mom didn’t care about him staying for dinner, so Izuku excitedly set an extra spot for him at the table. His mother’s offer had undeniably boosted his mood, as he was glad to learn that she might be giving Kacchan more of the credit he deserved. The progress the two of them had made deserved to be recognized, in Izuku’s opinion. He might be the most stressed he’s ever been in his life, but he was also the happiest.

There were difficult moments, sure, both with the music and with Kacchan, but the possibility of one of his songs playing through a radio someday and the reality of Kacchan working hard to stay by his side made it all worthwhile. Even when Kacchan gave him that look. Especially when Kacchan gave him that look.

He really wanted to kiss him most of the time.

He was about 70% sure that Kacchan felt the same.

He was 100% sure that if Kacchan did feel the same, he wouldn’t act on it anyways. He’d be too oh no, Deku, I couldn’t ask for more from you, I don’t deserve it, blah blah blah to do anything but wait. Which was nothing short of infuriating, because it made Izuku love him even more while simultaneously annoying the shit out of him. He’d barely had enough courage to admit he wanted to try everything over again, but apparently, he still hadn’t been clear enough to get through Kacchan’s thick skull.

“Do you need any help with dinner, Auntie?” Kacchan offered from the kitchen, brining Izuku back down to earth and away from his convoluted thoughts. He almost laughed. How polite.

“Sure, Katsuki-kun,” his mother answered, “Izuku says you have a knack for vegetable cutting, you can do that.”

Izuku’s smile dropped, suddenly deeply embarrassed at how much he must talk about Kacchan if his mother knew a fact that random. Vegetable cutting, seriously? Why would he mention that to her? Why would he even know that?

Scratch that, of course he’d know all about Kacchan’s proficiencies in a kitchen. He’d made it his personal mission to know everything about Kacchan there was to know since he’d met him as a toddler. He still was on that mission. And Kacchan could cut up a carrot really fast.

Dinner was finished and on the table in no time with an extra set of hands helping to make it. As they ate, Izuku asked his mother about her day and told her about his, finally explaining the events that led him to panic in full. After he’d had a good cry, a solid session of Kacchan-hugging therapy, and a little time, the prospect of his song being released so soon was far easier to handle, even a tad exciting.

“Well, I’m glad you feel better,” his mother smiled, “And I’m very happy for you.” He grinned back at her, shoveling more food into his mouth as she turned to Kacchan. “How about you, Katsuki-kun? How was your day?”

Kacchan, who, up until that moment, had been simply staring at Izuku with his melty red eyes, blinked a bit and straightened in his seat like he hadn’t expected to be addressed. Izuku thought of Auntie Mitsuki and wondered how often Kacchan had simple conversations about his day over a dinner table with his parents. “Uh…it was fine,” he said, glancing over at Izuku with a look that was almost asking for help.

“What did you do?” Izuku prompted, always interested in hearing Kacchan talk.

“School,” Kacchan answered slowly, then probably realized he should give more details. “We did some training exercises and only one of my classmates got sent to the nurse, which is a record.” Izuku’s mother frowned a bit at that, but Izuku smiled.

“Was it Kaminari?”

“Surprisingly, no,” Kacchan answered with a smirk, “It was the sparkly guy with another stomachache.”

“Aoyama,” Deku said, thinking back all of Kacchan’s classmates from the sports festival.

“Is he alright?” his mother asked worriedly.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Kacchan assured, “Happens all the time.” He took a small bite of his food, seeming more relaxed than a few moments ago. “Then I ran all the way here after therapy to help your annoying a-” he cut himself off before he let a swear slip “-butt.”

Izuku snickered and Kacchan shot him a glare that only made him laugh more. Meanwhile, his mother was watching Kacchan with a very strange look. She looked away before he could mention it. “Well, I certainly appreciate that part,” she said coolly.

“Me too,” Izuku said with a soft smile, turning to meet Kacchan’s eyes. The other boy’s cheeks and ear went pink – he was definitely blushing, right? He had to be.

“Like I said,” Kacchan shrugged, “that’s what I’m here for.”

Izuku grinned. “Emotional support and eye candy.”

Kacchan kicked him under the table.

After dinner was over and the dishes were done, Kacchan joined Izuku in his room instead of returning home. “Isn’t your mom going to wonder why you’re staying so late?” Izuku asked as Kacchan plopped himself down on the beanbag chair.

“I don’t give a shit,” Kacchan said, resting his cheek against his hand and looking up at Izuku. Right. Things had changed. They were at Izuku’s house, not hiding in some lonely park, and Auntie Mitsuki had been told exactly where her son was and who he was with. Kacchan had told her himself. “What’s the smile for, you’re creeping me out.”

Izuku smiled wider, flopping down on the beanbag, right on top of Kacchan and between his spread legs. “The way life changes.”

“Ow,” Kacchan wheezed, hugging Izuku around the waist and shifting them both into a more comfortable position. “In a good way?”

“I am smiling,” Izuku pointed out, leaning back to rest his head on Kacchan’s shoulder with a smirk, “That usually means good things.”

“Smartass,” Kacchan grumbled, bonking his head against Izuku’s. He slid one arm from Izuku’s waist and plinked a few notes on the keyboard on the ground next to the beanbag. “How’s the piano going?”

“Pretty good,” Izuku answered, not fully paying attention. He was too busy taking in the full reality of the situation, which was that he and Kacchan had slipped into cuddling on a beanbag chair with a second thought or ounce of awkwardness and were now chatting away as if this was their everyday. Which it was.

“Ocean girl is teaching you, right?” Kacchan asked, “Fuck, what’s her name…Na-something.”

“Narumi-chan,” Izuku provided, his mind still drifting, “And yeah, she’s teaching me.”

Kacchan was quiet for a second, then his other arm returned to Izuku’s waist. “Alright, where the hell are you right now, ‘cause it ain’t here.”

Izuku exhaled tiredly. Of course Kacchan would notice. But now his problem was how to answer that honestly. Kacchan would never let him get away with a “nothing, I’m fine”, but what was he supposed to do? Tell Kacchan that he wanted their relationship back all the way? Admit that he wanted to cross those lines? Then what? What if Kacchan didn’t really return his feelings and he messed it all up, lost his one lifeline? What if it turned out that Kacchan still didn’t think they worked like that? He couldn’t survive losing him, not now.

“Oi, Deku,” Kacchan said, sitting up and flipping them over so he was caging Izuku against the beanbag chair. Izuku’s breath caught in his throat when he met genuine crimson eyes, so close that he could count each perfect eyelash. “Talk.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku started slowly, taking in a deep breath as he struggled to keep Kacchan’s gaze, to overwhelmed by all the emotions he saw there. He thought back to late nights on the phone with the boy in front of him, the hours spent searching him out for comfort that he was always ready to provide, the days Kacchan came to him for support and held him so tight Izuku wondered if he was worried he’d run away. He thought back to walks through the city Kacchan forced him on for his own good, the funny smile he wore whenever Izuku started rambling about something silly. He thought back to linked pinkies and red-tinged cheeks, the way Kacchan combed his fingers through Izuku’s hair with an uncharacteristic gentleness.

He suddenly knew, without a doubt, that if he asked Kacchan to kiss him, he would.

So what was he so afraid of? What where they both so afraid of?

“I don’t want to mess this up,” Izuku murmured, answering his own question, “You don’t either.” Kacchan just watched him, waiting for him to gather himself together and say what he needed to say. “But maybe it’s worth it to try anyways.” Kacchan’s brow furrowed, and Izuku reached up to cup his face. “Solid foundations are the most important thing, right?” He thought theirs was pretty damn solid nowadays.

“Deku…,” Kacchan said quietly. Izuku screwed his eyes shut, drawing in a deep breath and praying for any amount of courage he could get. His heart was beating like one of Fukui’s drum solos in his chest. Just say it.

“If you’re gonna kiss me, this is your chance.”

Nothing happened.

Izuku forced his eyes open to find that Kacchan’s were wide, his face washed with red. Izuku looked up at him expectantly. “Deku, I can’t-”

“Fine,” Izuku huffed, throwing his arms around Kacchan’s neck and yanking him down until their lips crashed together in what quickly turned from messy and amateur to soft as both he and Kacchan melted into it. That is, until Kacchan pulled away far too soon.

“Wait, Deku, are you sure-”

“Yes,” Izuku interrupted, clamping his hands down on Kacchan’s jaw and starting to pull him in. Kacchan stopped, even though Izuku could see the way it pained him to do so. Stupid Kacchan and stupidly amazing moral code.

“Deku-”

“I know it’s considered rude to accept a gift right away, but can you just skip a few steps,” Izuku breathed, making Kacchan’s eyes widen a bit. He even let out a singular laugh under his breath. “Please,” Izuku added, knowing Kacchan’s moral code wouldn’t allow him to say no to that.

“Shit, okay,” Kacchan said breathlessly, then finally, finally kissed him. Izuku felt his heart swell with warmth, hugging Kacchan tighter to him and loving every second of it. Loving Kacchan’s hand in his hair, where it always seemed to wander these days, loving his soft lips against Izuku’s chapped ones, loving the way it all made him feel. It wasn’t a long, passionate kiss by any means, but it was the product of so many building emotions that Izuku felt tears build behind his eyes when they broke away.

“I love you.”

Izuku’s eyes shot open and wide.

Above him, Kacchan looked like he’d just fallen off a cliff. Like he’d been toeing a line this whole time and just now teetered off the edge. He didn’t know if he’d survive the fall.

But Izuku was ready to catch him, just like Kacchan had been for him time and time again.

“I love you too,” he exhaled, all in one breath like he couldn’t wait to get it out in the open, and he sealed his mouth to Kacchan’s before the other boy could respond. He kept a tight grip on Kacchan’s shirt with one hand, the other on the back of his neck, brushing gently at the short hairs at his nape. Because maybe he’s young and he’s stupid and he doesn’t know what he’d doing, but he knows what he said was true and he knows that he’d gladly risk everything for a chance at the boy in his grasp.

Then his mom knocked on the door.

Chapter Text

His mom knocked on the door, startling both of them so much they almost screamed, Izuku shooting upright at the same time Kacchan scrambled back and landed on his ass, eyes wide and cheeks as red as his eyes. His hair was sticking up in even more directions that usual, his shirt rumbled where Izuku had gripped it so tight it might have permanently stretched. Izuku would’ve laughed if he wasn’t sure he looked more or less the same.

“Izuku, honey, it’s getting pretty late,” his mom said, cracking open the door as they both frantically straightened out their clothes and hair, willing the flush in their cheeks to disappear, “Is Katsuki-kun going home soon?”

Izuku stared up at his mother with wide eyes, and for one terrifying moment, forgot how to speak. “Yep,” he finally blurted, nudging Kacchan with his toe. They both pushed themselves to their feet, not making eye contact out of sheer awkwardness.

“Yeah, I should probably get back before the- before my mom gets pissed,” Kacchan managed, his voice even rougher than usual. Izuku’s mother gave him a look, but she must have noticed the desperation in his eyes because she just nodded and left the room – but didn’t close the door.

“Uh,” Izuku started articulately.

“Yup,” Kacchan agreed, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

“So…” Izuku tried again, puffing air into his cheeks and letting it all out in one stream. His lips were still tingling. Kacchan tasted like green onions and plain chapstick. He wondered what he tasted like. He hoped it wasn’t anything bad. “You should probably get home.”

“Yup,” Kacchan said again. Izuku was glad he wasn’t the only one feeling awkward, at least.

“You’ll be safe, right?”

“I’m a hero-in-training with explosive hands.”

“Right.” Izuku cleared his throat awkwardly, sticking out a hand without much thought, “Bye.”

Both he and Kacchan stared down at his hand in varied states of bewilderment.

“Are you trying to shake my hand-”

“That was kind of stupid.”

“Yeah, kind of.”

“I’m just gonna kiss you again-”

“Okay,” Kacchan said. Then he kissed him.

Izuku sincerely hoped his mother had given them at least a bit of privacy despite the half ajar door, but he stopped being able to care when Kacchan’s fingers traced down his neck, sending a shiver all over his body. The touch was light and hesitant, like Kacchan wanted to do more, to hold him closer and kiss him a thousand times over, but knew he’d have to pull away soon.

When he did, both of their breathing was shaky, their foreheads pressing together for a moment as a wobbly smile spread across Izuku’s lips. Everything about him felt wobbly at the moment, from his heartbeat to his grip on solid ground.

“Wow,” he murmured in a daze, “thanks.”

“Don’t make it weird,” Kacchan said back just as quietly, then straightened up his full height and retreated his hands back to his pockets.

“Did you like the handshake better?” Izuku teased lightly. Kacchan snorted.

“Bye, Deku.”

“See you tomorrow, Kacchan.”

--

Katsuki held it together until he got a block away from Deku’s house, suddenly letting out a whoop so loud it probably scared the shit out of some poor neighbors. Katsuki didn’t give a shit. Deku just kissed him. Deku loved him.

“Holy fuck!” he exclaimed to the empty night, raking his hands through his hair before pumping his fist like an idiot. He didn’t have it in him to care. The boy he loved loved him back. DEKU LOVED HIM BACK.

Not even his own shitty doubts about what he did or didn’t deserve could bring him down right then, though he was sure he’d deal with them later. For the time being, he let himself ride home on a high unlike anything he’d ever felt, grinning in a way he was sure made him look like a crazy person. His fingers ghosted over his lips a few times, wishing that he hadn’t ever had to pull away, to stop holding him, to take his hands out of his mess of hair. It was all he had in him not to turn back.

He wanted to kiss the living daylights out of Deku, and on of these days he’d do that. But for now, he just tried to skirt around his mother and father watching TV in the living room, raced upstairs to his bedroom, and relived every second of the past hour in detail.

He woke up not remembering having fallen asleep, the events of the previous evening crashing into him and sending his heart off to the races before he’d even gotten out of bed. He jumped to his feet and went to snatch his phone off the charger, getting all the way to his text conversation with Deku before realizing he had no idea what he wanted to say. It would be pretty weird to say “I’m coming to your house to make out with you” at seven am. He didn’t usually text Deku in the mornings anyways. But maybe he should start?

Deku

<< good morning.

He felt stupid as soon as he sent it, but by that time it was too late and he was tired of being so pathetic. He threw his phone down on his bed to avoid saying something even worse, stalking over to his dresser to change. He seriously needed to pull himself together. He was a fucking hero-in-training, not some lovesick twelve-year-old swinging his legs back and forth and waiting for a text from a boy to gush over. He was a man. He was-

Bzzt.

He practically threw himself across the room to check the response from Deku.

He was absolutely, completley, disgustingly in love with Midoriya Izuku.

Deku

>> good morning kacchan!! :D

>> how’d u sleep last night?

Katsuki narrowed his eyes at his phone. Was Deku teasing him or was this a genuine question? Knowing Deku, probably both.

<< fine. when are you free today

>> wow someone misses me already…miss u too (✿˶˘ ³˘)~♡

Katsuki scowled at the message and the stupid emoji that made his ears burn.

<< so what if I do, just answer the question

>> okay, okay! no need to blow a fuse ;]

>> get it

>> fuse. bombs.

>> explosions.

Katsuki stared at his phone blankly and wondered how in the world he fell for such a damn dork.

>> you explode

<< I fucking get it, deku

>> I think it’s pretty funny

<< DEKU

>> my last meeting of the day is at 4:30

Fucking finally.

<< great, I’ll see you at 5

>> at my house?

<< yeah

>> awesome!! have a good day ( ＾◡＾)っ ♡

Katsuki was barely able to manage a “you too” before getting his phone as far away from him as possible and tried to focus on getting to school on time. He briefly wondered how in the hell he was going to focus on Aizawa’s droning when all he could do at the moment was thinking about kissing Deku – and even more than before. Fuck.

For the most part, he did okay. Until a few classmates caught him drifting off into thought during a short break between homeroom and math. He had his chin in his palm, elbow propped up on the table as he stared at the clock and wished for it to move faster. It was no longer just the desire to kiss Deku again, it was the need to talk to him. To admit they loved each other and leave immediately wasn’t the best way to go about repairing a relationship, he’d guess.

But anyways, his Kaminari must’ve spotted some wistful look on his face, and suddenly there was a chattering yellow head at his desk with a wide, annoying grin.

“Bakugou-kun, Bakugou-kun, could I offer a penny for your thoughts?” Kaminari asked, leaning against his desk and drawing the attention of a few classmates as Katsuki glowered at him.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Dunce Face,” he snapped.

“You look like your daydreaming, my friend,” Kaminari grinned, wiggling his eyebrows, “A special lady, perhaps?”

Katsuki resisted a gag. Not that he had anything against woman, they just weren’t – as Yaomomo might put it – his cup of tea. “Get away from me before I blast your face off,” he threatened, but it was too late. Kaminari’s idiocy had attracted the others, and Katsuki was under threat of being swarmed.

“Daydreaming?” Ashido asked with a grin to rival Kaminari’s, “What in the world has great Bakugou Katsuki daydreaming.”

“And so wistfully,” Sero added. Katsuki clenched his fists and tried not to…blow his fuse. God damn it, Deku.

“Maybe he’s in looovve!” Ashido sang, making Katsuki’s heart stop for a moment. And then Sero laughed.

“Right, like Bakugou-kun’s got love for anybody,” he joked, “Could you imagine this guy in a relationship?”

Kaminari snorted. “I’d feel a little bad for the girlfriend.”

“Come on, guys, maybe there’s a softie under that harsh exterior,” Ashido protested, but Katsuki got the sense it was more for her own sake than his – it fit whatever romance novel bullshit she wanted all life to be. He bit down on the inside of his mouth hard enough to draw blood, holding back enough tears to make his head ache.

Right. In all the excitement, he’d forgotten who he was. The asshole. The bully. The undeserving.

The teacher arrived before his classmates could say anything else.

Deku answered the door with a grin bright enough to rival the sun and a voice to match. “Kacchan!”

Katsuki blinked for a second, the view in front of him so opposed to his own mental state that he was momentarily disoriented by it all. “Hey.”

“Kacchan’s here, mom!” Deku called back into the apartment, “I’ll see you later!” Auntie called back something Katsuki didn’t quite catch, and Deku exited the apartment and closed the door behind him. His arms were around Katsuki in an instant. “I’m so glad to see you again,” he said, squeezing Katsuki tight, “We really need to talk.”

Katsuki felt the ground disappear out from under him as he had the terrifying thought that Deku had changed his mind. That he’d decided Katsuki wasn’t worth it after all. That last night had been a moment of insanity, that he didn’t want to ever see him again, that he never loved him in the first place.

“About good things,” Deku quickly added, probably noticing Katsuki’s expression. He felt himself immediately deflate.

Since when did he get to fucking weak?

Feelings make you strong, not weak, Hound Dog’s voice said in his head, As long as it’s all under control.

“Are you okay, Kacchan?” Deku asked, brow furrowed in concern as he reached out to take Katsuki’s hand in his own. Katsuki took a deep, slow breath and met Deku’s steadfast green eyes. He needed to get it all under control.

“No,” he answered truthfully, “I’m not.”

“Oh,” Deku frowned. He moved to retract his hand, but Katsuki held it fast and squeezed.

“Not because of you,” he assured, just as Deku had done a moment before. “Well…it does have to do with you but it’s not…ugh.”

Deku looked at him – or maybe a more accurate way of putting it would’ve been analyzed him, pursing his lips and reading Katsuki like it was the easiest thing in the world until he evidently reached a conclusion and let out a sigh. “Oh, Kacchan.”

Katsuki felt his shot nerves flare, and snapped before he could think it through, “I don’t need your fucking pity.” Deku’s eyes went a little wider and Katsuki forced his mouth shut, breathing deeply through his nose. “Fuck, that’s not what I-” He cut himself off and searched for an explanation, the thing he was really feeling. “I don’t want your sympathy,” he tried again, voice as level as he could keep it, “I don’t need coddling. I need the consequences of my actions.”

Deku watched him with those knowing viridian eyes, then squeezed his hands and reached up with the other one to hold his cheek. “Fair enough, Kacchan,” he said, “No sympathy.” He held Katsuki’s gaze with a determination that made Katsuki’s heart speed up. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Katsuki blinked in surprise. What.

“Do you even know how much you’ve done for me?” Deku continued, having apparently hit his stride in the chastising Kacchan department, “Do you know how many times in the past months the only thing stopping me from crying myself to sleep – or not sleeping at all – has been your phone calls? What about how many times this stupid moral code of yours has driven me to the brink of insanity?” He changed his voice to a mocking impersonation that was somehow deeper than his normal voice but whiny. “Oh, Deku, how could I ever be loved by someone like you, I’m undeserving – shut up!” He let go of Katsuki’s hand to grab both side of his face, pulling him down while he was stunned into silence.

“You’re not the one who gets to choose that! I am!” Deku said with increasing volume, “You don’t get to say who I can and can’t choose, you don’t get to tell me what’s best for me, you don’t get to be so stupid and pretty and amazing and expect me to hate you. Guess what, Kacchan, I love you. And there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

“I-” Deku kissed him before he could get more than a syllable out in response. He kissed him with a fire and anger Katsuki hadn’t felt from him since that concert so many weeks ago, a fire that rendered him utterly unable to protest or pull away or do anything but admit that Deku was right and kiss him back.

When Deku finally let go, they were both out of breath, and there were tears pricking at both their eyes. Katsuki reached up to wipe the drops from Deku’s face. “Holy shit, nerd.”

“Was that too mean?” Deku asked. Katsuki almost laughed, wrapping his arms around the other boy and smirking at him hesitantly.

“Nah, it was kind of hot,” he teased. Deku’s face flushed immediately, and he dropped his hands to Katsuki’s shoulders with an eye roll.

“Don’t make it weird,” he said, stealing Katsuki’s words from before.

Katsuki just grinned and leaned down to kiss his jaw. “Call me stupid and pretty again.”

“Kacchan!” Deku admonished, his cheeks blushing an even darker pink as he pushed Katsuki back a bit, “I’m being serious!”

Katsuki’s teasing grin changed to something smaller and far more genuine, pressing his forehead into Deku’s. “After that whole speech, I don’t think I have any choice but to believe you.”

“Kacchan…”

“I’m serious,” Katsuki assured, “I get it.”

“You get it,” Deku said, somewhere between a question and a statement.

“I get it,” Katsuki confirmed anyways, then kissed him again for good measure. Screw his shitty classmates and what they thought about him. The only person whose opinion on his love skills mattered was in his arms right now, kissing him back and choosing to love him, too. They didn’t know him like Deku did. They hardly knew him at all

Midoriya Izuku loved him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

So he’d just have to do everything in his power to keep it that way.

--

About nine months after his and Kacchan’s second first kiss, Izuku and his band released their first album to the world. It followed the unbelievable success of “good for you” that got even more fame than the first time the public heard it, topping music charts in a matter of weeks. Izuku and his friends had been overwhelmed by the love and the sudden world of fame. Kacchan was there through it all.

One thing that Izuku would always remember was the first time he’d listened to the final song with his boyfriend, initially worried that Kacchan would be hurt by it – it was about him, after all. But all Kacchan did was pull him in for the deepest kiss of his life and say he couldn’t wait for people to know he was with “the only respectable celebrity on this earth, who also happens to be the greatest singer”. He’d kissed him again before adding, “And the hottest”, and Izuku had practically died on the spot.

He’d figured the kiss was Kacchan’s way of saying too many things at once, but Izuku understood all of them.

Most of all, he understood that he was loved.

He felt that very strongly as he sat cuddled into his boyfriend’s lap on the couch, surrounded by his closest friends and the amazing people that had helped them make his and the band’s wildest ideas into reality, including the music video that they were all gather to watch right then. Well, maybe music movie would be a better way to put it. It was something of a short film that Narumi had concocted with the help of the band, featuring at least a part of every song from the album. It was premiering that very day on Youtube, and Izuku and all his loved ones where only a few of the millions of viewers watching recorded him sing and dance and scream his way through the whole thing. He almost felt like crying.

This was real. This was all real life, his real life. Success in a field he loved but never even dreamed of entering, Kacchan at his side, his three best friends doing it all with him.

The video came to a close and the small room erupted into applause – they were all watching in the recording studio longue. Someone flicked on the lights as Fukui and Narumi shared something of a victory kiss, only to be tackled by Asa, who hugged them both tightly and ignored the sweet moment he’d crashed. Izuku laughed, and suddenly he and Kacchan were being dog-piled on the couch.

“Oi, fuckers, leave me outta this!” Kacchan protested, but he was already pinned under the weight of all four members of Collision Course.

“You’ve got your part in this, Bakugou-kun,” Asa grinned, poking Kacchan’s cheek with all the blustery confidence of a man poking a bear he knew was trapped in a cage – the cage being Izuku, who was right there and could easily stop his boyfriend from attacking his best friend.

“Yes, none of this would’ve been possible if you weren’t an asshole back in middle school,” Fukui agreed in good nature, “and if you weren’t less of an asshole nowadays.”

“Bug off, Arms,” Kacchan grumbled.

“Let’s pop open some bubbly!” one of the adults announced, the director of the video. All three of Izuku’s bandmates scrambled to their feet to follow him out of the room to where they were keeping some celebratory food and drink.

“We’re still sixteen, so I hope you mean apple cider,” Narumi pointed out before the door closed behind them, leaving just him and Kacchan in the room. Izuku turned to face his boyfriend with a grin.

“Shall we join them, Kacchan?” he asked, offering a hand for the drama of it. But Kacchan wasn’t smiling back at him.

“You can go,” he said, “I’ll come in a minute.”

Izuku frowned, dropping his hand and shuffling closer to his boyfriend. “Kacchan, what’s wrong?”

“I’m okay, Deku,” Kacchan lied, leaning over until he was laying back on the couch, “Go have fun with your friends.”

“Nope, not doing this, Kacchan,” Izuku said, crawling on top of his boyfriend and pinning him to the couch, “We don’t do this.”

Kacchan looked up at him with soft red eyes, then reached up to caress his cheek softly. “I’m sorry.”

Izuku knew he wasn’t apologizing for the deflection. This is what he’d been worried about. He turned his head to kiss Kacchan’s palm. “It’s in the past now, Kacchan.”

Once, after hearing him perform, Kacchan had asked him if he’d really moved on from the way he’d been hurt. He said Izuku’s performance was so believable and emotional that he couldn’t imagine a world where those wounds didn’t linger. Izuku had been honest and said no, he hadn’t moved on from his anger. But he was angry at the person Kacchan used to be, not the person he was.

“I think I’ve even forgiven past you for everything by now,” he admitted, “The album certainly helped.” He leaned down to kiss Kacchan’s forehead. “I’m happy with you.”

Kacchan exhaled quietly, brushing a hair out of Izuku’s eyes. “I’m still sorry.”

“I know,” Izuku said, knowing there was nothing else he could say to fix that way Kacchan felt.

“I love you.”

“I know,” Izuku repeated with a smile. Kacchan pouted at him with that face he denied was a pout to hell and back.

“Who do you think you are, Han Solo? Say it back!” he said, shaking Izuku’s head back and forth as he laughed.

“Okay, Kacchan, I love you too,” Izuku said, leaning down to kiss him gently. “My next album’s gonna be all love songs for you, I swear. I can’t think about anything else.”

“Gross,” Kacchan responded, sticking out his tongue a bit.

Izuku chuckled, not knowing why he even tried. “Let’s go, Kacchan. I want cake.”

“Anything for my celebrity sensation,” Kacchan said casually, sitting up as Izuku got off of him and to his feet, blushing.

“What’s with all the flattery?” he asked as Kacchan stood up next to him.

“It’s a full moon tonight,” Kacchan said without an ounce of humor, slipping his arm comfortably around Izuku’s waist. Izuku snorted dramatically.

“I see,” he smiled. Kacchan stared at him for a moment before leaning down to plant a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Or maybe I’m just proud of you, who knows,” he muttered, turning to the door with pink ears. Izuku felt his heart turn to butter. “We getting cake or what?”

In the many years to come, Izuku would find that being a quirkless celebrity was about as difficult as he’d imagined, but he’d also find that there was far more acceptance and love in the world than he’d thought there was. He’d find all the drama that came with the spotlight, he’d make speeches against the discrimination he and so many others faced, he’d watch Kacchan take on the weight of a hero’s title and job description. He’d watch the love of his life risk his life on national television and be unable to breath until he saw that familiar victory grin, he’d duck away from paparazzies, he’d stand steadfast in his relationship in the face of the judging public.

But he’d also write those love songs. He’d grow up surrounded by the closest friends he’d ever had, he’d drag his put-upon boyfriend into spontaneous kitchen dance parties, singing along loudly to his new favorite song, he’d be loved from each morning to the next. He’d hold Kacchan through the rough nights and Kacchan would hold him through his, and they’d both have each other and they never really needed anything else, did they?

Every path a life can take comes with it’s struggles, but they all come with their bright spots, and Izuku would have plenty. He’d fall in love with a stray cat and puppy-eyes his way into keeping her. He’d find time for date nights and out of the blue decisions, like cutting all his hair off or asking Kacchan a question after one too many close calls on the field and a little I love you between kisses that pushed him over the edge. He’d watch his wedding photos go viral.

But that was all years from now. Maybe eons, given how hard it was for him to think of anything other than the way Kacchan looked at him right now, how beautiful he was and how unbelievably lucky Izuku was to have him.

For now, he just wrapped his arm around Kacchan’s waist like his boyfriend did to him and smiled, holding back the best kind of tears. “Sure thing, handsome.”

Kacchan rolled his eyes. “Now who’s the flatterer?”