Work Text:
. : Worth a Thousand Words : .
Hot, white sunlight poured into the common room, shimmering against the ceramic bowls and wooden chopsticks that lay across class 1-A’s dining tables. The clinking and clacking of busy hands working food into hungry mouths was offset by the noisy chatter of schoolgirl gossip and tired drawls of “Good morning” or “Sleep well?” Izuku was among the last of the boys to emerge from his room, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to sleep in on a Saturday.
It was a Saturday like any other. Rather, it started that way, but this Saturday in particular was the day Katsuki Bakugo’s house arrest ended. Four long days had come and gone, and he could finally eat breakfast with the rest of his classmates instead of pushing a vacuum across the lounge floor or wiping the oversized windows that wrapped around the corners. Izuku had to admit, it was nice to see Katsuki sitting down with a bowl of rice for a change. What was a little off-putting was how quiet he was.
Katsuki nursed his breakfast with small, careful bites, as if he was trying to savor each grain of rice placed in his mouth. After observing him for a moment, Izuku noticed the thoughtful look in his eyes. Far-off, contemplative, like there was something on his mind. And why wouldn’t there be? He had gone through so much in only a few weeks. Their fight five nights ago, fresh in their minds and even more so in their bruises. The provisional license exam, a huge blow to his school life and his ego. Witnessing All Might, the symbol of peace, crumble into retirement after the battle with All for One. Being kidnapped by villains and rescued by friends after Izuku failed so miserably to reach out to him…twice.
Izuku wondered if it stung for Katsuki as much as it stung for him.
Now that he knew Katsuki had been holding back overwhelming emotions Izuku had never considered, could there be more Katsuki wasn’t telling him…? Was it just lingering feelings from their fight that had him out of sorts? Or was there something further beyond that?
As Izuku entered a haze of overthinking, Kirishima came up behind Katsuki, putting a hand on his shoulder. There was a split second in which Katsuki flinched before whirling his neck around to glare up at this invader of his personal space.
“Bakugo! Check it out!” With a grin on his face, Kirishima held up an obnoxiously-colored flyer that was advertising a sale at the local mall. Katsuki looked it over, his expression immovable despite the ad’s contents.
“Mountain climbing gear?”
Kirishima nodded enthusiastically as he pointed to the glossy piece of paper. “Says here that for this weekend only, all apparel is forty percent off! What a steal, am I right!? I was thinking we could go and check it out—y’know—since you’re free now?”
“Pass,” was Katsuki’s immediate answer. He returned to his breakfast without a second glance to Kirishima, now crowding his side in an attempt to get Katsuki to look his way again.
“C’mon, man! You’re finally able to leave this dorm and I just know you’re gonna spend all your time today cooped up in your room studying. Besides, you didn’t come with us the first time we went to the mall. I can’t have you missing out again!”
“I didn’t go the first time because I knew it would be lame, and it was.” Katsuki thrust his chopsticks into one of the sardines on his plate before taking an angry bite out of the top half. He cocked his head to the side as he chewed, murmuring through his teeth, “Well, for everybody except—”
For the first time that morning, Katsuki met Izuku’s gaze. Whether time stopped or slowed down, he wasn’t sure, but Izuku was certain that the world somehow paused when Katsuki stared back at him.
Once the spell was broken, Katsuki scoffed and shoved the rest of his half-eaten sardine into his mouth. He turned away once more, grumbling to Kirishima, “Whatever. Point is, I’m not going.”
“But…” Kirishima trailed off, losing the will to press Katsuki further. Shoulders sagged in defeat; disappointment etched upon his face.
It was painfully obvious to Izuku that Kirishima still felt a heavy amount of guilt towards the events surrounding the aftermath of the training camp. The situation hadn’t been ideal, but they had succeeded. However, none of those involved were quite sure how that success affected Katsuki.
He was such a prideful person—that wasn’t difficult to see. But since moving into the dorms, Katsuki hadn’t acknowledged his rescue to the people it mattered to the most. Izuku thought about it nearly every day, and now, it seemed clear that Kirishima still felt conflicted about that night as well. He wanted to make it up to Katsuki, even if he didn’t need to. In any way possible, he wanted to cheer his friend up.
“Can I see that, Kirishima?” Izuku asked, suddenly appearing beside the two boys to take the flyer out of Kirishima’s hands. He mulled it over, hand covering his mouth as a finger tapped against his cheek. “It, um…has been a while since you’ve replaced your hiking boots, right, Kacchan? Maybe you should go take a look…? There are a lot of good deals here…”
“This is none of your business, shitty Deku…” Katsuki’s heel bounced in frustration. Fingers ran through his bangs, and he let out a groan. “Fine. Geez. I’ll go on your stupid mall trip.”
“Wha—really!? Yeah!” Kirishima shouted, pumping a fist in the air. His arm swung around to crush Izuku’s shoulder in a firm side hug. “This’ll be great! We’re all gonna have a blast!”
Izuku stammered, face pale, “A-all…?”
“All?” Katsuki repeated.
“Uh-huh.” Oblivious, Kirishima nodded and began excitedly pointing to their classmates around the room. “You, me, Midoriya, Ashido, Sero, Hagakure, Jiro, Sato—”
“Hold up, Hair-brain!”
Katsuki’s chair clattered as he stood up, nearly toppling over onto the floor. His hand shot out to poke Kirishima in the chest with an accusatory finger. The red of his eyes glowed with a menacing aura, accented by the whites of angry, sneering teeth.
“You didn’t tell me there would be more people there before I agreed,” Katsuki growled. “Trying to pull one over on me, you little sneak?”
“What!? ‘Course not! I just thought more people would mean more fun!”
His attention turned from Kirishima to Izuku. Katsuki’s scowl pierced the air out of Izuku’s lungs as he snapped, “Were you in on this, too?”
“No, no!” Izuku’s body went stiff as a board, hands waving frantically in front of his chest. “I had no idea!”
“But you seemed like you wanted to come, Midoriya…”
In hindsight, Izuku’s fatal mistake that morning had been shifting his gaze to look at Kirishima. His bottom lip had curled up, eyes widened to puppy-like proportions, and while it may have been a trick of the light, Izuku swore he saw Kirishima’s pupils expand and glisten with the threat of tears. Kirishima’s latent ability to hold such an innocent, childish face had Izuku completely at his mercy.
“I’ll…” Letting his arms drop, Izuku sighed, “I’ll come with you guys…”
Instantly, Kirishima perked up, grinning triumphantly as he ruffled Izuku’s hair in gratitude. Katsuki, on the other hand, stared at him like he was trying to set Izuku on fire with his burning glare. Izuku hoped and prayed no one would explode later that day.
Shopping bags crinkled under Izuku’s fists as he slumped down onto a metal bench, a worn-out sigh dragging past his panting tongue . Classes at school were nothing compared to the workout that was accompanying three trendy girls around a shopping mall. Every single store held the potential for more bags to carry, more clothes to hold onto. And of course, what were a bunch of strong, heroic friends for?
Up and down flights of stairs and around neon-lit hallways, the boys trudged behind their more enthusiastic female companions. It had been Ashido who had graciously halted their entourage, squealing to a complete stop when she spotted a small assortment of purikura-style photo booths lined up against the wall. The girls immediately gushed and gawked over the opportunity to take cute pictures with each other, while the five boys sprawled themselves like slugs on a sidewalk into the nearest seats they could find.
Their respite was cut short, set upon by Ashido and Hagakure looming over their spent, tired bodies and asking, “Who’s first?” When it dawned on everyone what exactly those words meant, Kirishima and Sato shot up with incredible speed, quickly telling the rest of the group that they were heading to the food court to bring back drinks. The closest one left in front of the girls was Sero, cowering on the floor as Ashido reached out to grab him. Izuku recited a silent prayer as Sero was dragged away to be stuffed into one of the photo booths.
Izuku took a moment to cool down, fanning himself with a fashion magazine he pulled from one of Hagakure’s many shopping bags. The cool breeze relaxed the tense, flaring muscles of his limbs, and Izuku closed his eyes as if to doze off for a minute or two. All of a sudden, a sweaty, irritable body thudded back against the empty space beside him. Izuku jumped, turning his head to see Katsuki slouching on the other end of the bench, leg thrown over a knee while his arms crossed in a petulant manner.
If his palms had been visible, Izuku was sure they would have been smoking. Katsuki’s brow was pinched tighter than a bear trap, his lips sucked in so he wouldn’t accidentally pout like a child. Izuku had seen this expression before. Many times, in fact. That look on Katsuki’s face that said he was so bored out of his mind that he wouldn’t hesitate to blow himself up if given the chance just so he could end this dull, mediocre suffering. Yes, Izuku knew it too well, because he had known Katsuki for a long, long time.
But still…Izuku was aware. There was so much about Kacchan he didn’t know.
Izuku’s teeth scraped gently over his bottom lip. He brought his hands to his lap, twirling his thumbs absentmindedly over one another. Katsuki paid no attention to him, but Izuku wished he had. He didn’t want to be the one to start the conversation. There were too many things he needed to say, too many thoughts scrambling in his head. He was sure to stumble over them all.
A deep breath, and Izuku began, “So…Kacchan—”
“Another word, and you die.”
Izuku’s tongue made a hasty retreat back into his mouth. Rather unceremoniously, he shuffled himself to the very edge of the bench, as far away from Katsuki as possible. Despite his desire to actually talk to Katsuki—to maybe get closer—Izuku’s desire to avoid conflict altogether overpowered these urges. There was no need to poke this turbulent, buzzing hornet’s nest.
And yet, Izuku’s curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to hear from Katsuki’s own mouth how he felt. He wanted to hear what his failures meant to Katsuki—to their relationship.
“I just…wanted to know if there was anything else you needed to tell me,” Izuku explained.
“Tell you?” Katsuki’s tone was sharp, biting, like he was gnawing through the words he spoke. “What are you on about?”
“I-if…” Izuku shifted in an uncomfortable manner, arms hugging tighter to his sides. He swallowed, wetting his chapped lips before continuing, “If there was anything else you didn’t tell me that night—when we fought—if there was any other reason you might have been angry at me…I can handle it.”
Katsuki only stared at him with a contemplative expression, equal parts confused and annoyed. Pronounced canines peeked out from beneath an exasperated sneer, “Deku, what the hell—”
“Midoriya! Bakugo! Your turn!”
Their attention snapped to Ashido as soon as she yelled their names. They looked over to the photo booths to see Sero with his face in his hands as Hagakure and Jiro giggled and fawned over his undoubtedly cute, sparkling pictures. Before Izuku or Katsuki could shout any word of protest, they were shoved face-first past the curtain hanging over the entrance to the purikura machine.
Katsuki growled as Izuku pressed up against him, trying to fit into the confined space clearly meant for preteen girls. Reluctantly, he tapped buttons on the screen before them, hurrying to get this over with before Katsuki combusted in anger and set both Izuku and the booth on fire. Their faces were the same shade of bright cherry red, though Izuku was positive it was for different reasons.
To lighten the mood and ease his embarrassment, Izuku laughed half-heartedly, “K-kinda small for purikura, don’t you think?”
“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been in one, moron,” Katsuki spat out, sounding offended at the gall Izuku had to even suggest that he’d set foot in one of these girly photo booths.
Izuku’s shoulders sagged as he silenced himself once again, thoughts from before racing to the forefront of his mind. Selections on the screen became random, fingers slipping around while Izuku’s assumptions became increasingly anxious. Katsuki must be mad, must hate seeing Izuku and being near him. He must hate being reminded of what Izuku did—no—what he didn’t do.
It must be just as painful to see Kirishima, to be reminded that he had to be the one to take Katsuki’s hand, not Izuku. Was he resentful because of that…? Izuku had failed to reach out to him at camp, had failed to reach out to him in Kamino… Katsuki must think Izuku had given up on him. How many more times would he fail to be there when Katsuki needed him?
Katsuki had said during their fight at Ground Beta that he’d always thought Izuku had been looking down on him. The fact that Izuku hadn’t offered Katsuki his hand during their rescue at Kamino—had Katsuki taken that as another sign Izuku didn’t think of him as worthy? Had Izuku made a terrible mistake…?
Should he have taken Katsuki’s hand? Whether he wanted it or not? Isn’t that what a hero would do…?
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
The booth was quiet save for the faint electrical whirring of machinery.
Izuku didn’t dare look at Katsuki’s face when he finally replied with, “…What?”
“I’m so sorry, Kacchan,” Izuku sniffed, rubbing his nose. He could feel tears trickling around his eyelids, catching on his lashes. He tried desperately to wipe them off as they rolled down his cheeks. “I couldn’t save you when you were taken away… I couldn’t reach out when we went to rescue you… I couldn’t support you when you were feeling so tormented… I’ve been a terrible hero, let alone a friend. It’s no wonder you resent me so much. I’ve never been able to help you no matter how hard I try—”
“So try harder.”
They both ignored the soft clicks and beeps that chirped from the purikura screen, counting down sixty seconds on a timer until their photos would be taken. Izuku was too lost in Katsuki’s eyes, too amazed at how his gaze projected something calm, something warm. This was a sight Izuku rarely got to see. Katsuki understood him.
With wide, imploring eyes, Izuku stammered, “B-but… But I—”
“Don’t give excuses,” Katsuki huffed. “Words are cheap. If you wanna prove yourself, then do it. Don’t cry to me about how you couldn’t live up to my expectations.”
Slowly, Izuku straightened himself out, standing tall beside Katsuki in the small area they occupied. For now, it was just the two of them. No one was watching; they didn’t have to put on airs. They could just be Izuku and Katsuki, once friends, now rivals. Nothing more, nothing less.
When he realized this, Izuku began to see Katsuki’s true feelings. His expression wasn’t as angry as he’d thought it had been. If anything, Katsuki looked more mature than Izuku had ever seen him.
He’s calmed down a bit, Izuku thought, maybe because of our fight. Because now we know who we are to each other.
The idea calmed his own nerves, as well.
“I have high standards, Deku. If you couldn’t reach them at the training camp, or the villain raid, or whatever—” Katsuki paused to click his tongue and shake his head. “Doesn’t matter. Wallowing in self-pity doesn’t move your feet forward. You gotta catch up to me on your own terms, nerd.”
“I will,” Izuku replied, eyes gleaming and glistening with determination, with an effervescence he had only ever been able to share with Katsuki. This person who had always been there, who he had always admired. “I’ll become worthy of taking your hand one day, Kacchan.”
Something caught in Katsuki’s throat, and he released a sharp, choking sound from his gawking mouth. The color of his face swelled to a vibrant red, like a ripe tomato. Izuku was at first puzzled by the reaction, but then replayed the awkward string of words he’d just spoken in his head. Now it was his turn to erupt into a blushing, warbling mess.
“Wh-what I mean is—ah, wait—I didn’t think—Kacchan…!”
“Yeah, no kidding, you ‘didn’t think!’ ”
An angry fist curled into the back of Izuku’s shirt, bunching up around the collar. Katsuki held him in place in order to grind his fist into Izuku’s head, unrelenting even as Izuku whined in protest. The purikura machine counted down its last ten seconds just as Izuku managed to tug on the sleeve of Katsuki’s jacket and pull his arm away. When the automatic timer reached zero, the two boys had devolved into an all-out wrestling match.
Prompts on the screen directed them on where to stand and how to pose, but Izuku and Katsuki instead pushed and shoved and pulled hair and kicked shins and yelled petulant, childish insults. They had resorted to shoving their hands in each other’s faces when the machine suddenly played a cute, whistling tune. The pair froze in place, slowly returning to the reality of the situation.
A computerized voice told them to go to the connected doodle booth to decorate their photos. Katsuki threw his hands off Izuku with a scoff, moving back to adjust the raised hem of his shirt.
“You won’t be ‘taking’ anything, Deku,” Katsuki said, facing away from Izuku as he spoke. “I’ll be the one to decide if you can hold my hand.”
Never in a million years did Izuku think he would hear Katsuki say something like that. He was shocked, stunned speechless. How could Katsuki sound so mature after they just scrapped like children? Well…he sounded mature for Katsuki.
Izuku’s lips quirked into a smile as he bit back a nostalgic giggle.
You really have changed, Kacchan, he didn’t dare say aloud.
“These pictures you took are terrible!” The boys heard Mina shout from the doodle booth next to theirs. “Lucky for you, we girls are here to make sure you look fabulous!”
Katsuki bristled, grumbling to himself, “Son of a—”
His hand darted out to grab Izuku by the wrist, dragging him from their prison of a photo booth.
“C’mon, Deku. We can’t let those idiots make us look like fools.”
Izuku nodded in response, but his mind was too focused on Katsuki’s hand being so close to his own. His fingers wrapped tightly around Izuku’s slender wrist, thumb reaching the very edge of Izuku’s palm. Their rough skin ghosted just a hair’s breadth apart. Not there yet. Almost.
Maybe it had been frustration that caused Katsuki to pull him. Maybe it was instinct. Whatever the reason, it was enough for now. Their hands spoke louder than any words from their mouths. They had become a bit closer. That was what mattered.
In his heart, Izuku knew that one day, Katsuki would hold his hand properly. He’d get there. They both would.