Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izuku didn’t know how long he was left standing there after Bakugou said those words to him. They were stupid words, uttered by an even stupider person, he knew that. 

But they wouldn’t leave him alone. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before. Small what-if scenarios that would dance around in his head late at night, playing with his sanity. He knew it was wrong to think about, but couldn’t fight them off. After all, if they were only what-ifs, they were harmless, right? 

Right? 

He’d never actually do it. That was what he told himself. Either he was too scared, or thoughts of his mom crying would only make him feel guilty, or some other reason would come up, halting the dangerous trains of thought echoing around in his head. 

But it was never fully gone. No matter what he did, or where he went, he could never fully get rid of it. Sometimes it wasn’t even because of himself. It was just curiosity, to see what it would feel like. 

After all, wasn’t that such an alluring thing? The inevitability of the world, the thought of experiencing his final moments on his own terms, the thought of if he would feel powerful, in control completely, for the first time in his life? 

He just couldn’t, though. And there was one reason why. 

After his father left, his mom became a bit of a mess. She hid it well, but he could tell. He could hear when she cried in the living, short sobs that were hastily choked out, like she was ashamed of herself for even crying in the first place, like that wasn’t a normal human reaction to someone leaving you and your five-year-old. 

There was a specific day he decided on it, though. When he went to go see if he had a quirk. The day that doctor gave him the worst news of his life. 

The day everything would only ever go downhill. 

His mother held him, shaking, apologizing over and over. He hadn’t wanted the apologies. They almost felt like they weren’t for him. They were apologies for a different person, a different time, a different version of him. 

Maybe that version of him would have brushed off Bakugou’s words like they were nothing, going on with his day. He would go down to the fish pool and grab his notebook, grumbling about how reckless Bakugou was with his words as he made his way home like nothing had happened. That other version of him, maybe he’d never had the what-if thoughts. Maybe he was able to keep his eyes focused solely on the future, determination being his greatest strength. 

Not the current Izuku, though. 

It wasn’t even because he was hurt by the words. To say that would be wrong. The words didn’t cut in the slightest, didn’t even sting. 

They were more the sparks that ignited a flame that had been festering in the shadows for a long time, waiting for something like this to happen. Izuku knew he wouldn’t blame Katsuki for what he was about to do. 

He was just so… curious. It was the most fucked-up kind of curiosity he could think of, but it was there nonetheless. 

That curiosity made his feet move, walking slowly out of the abandoned classroom. It carried him through the hall and up the stairs. It pushed the door to the roof open, the loud creaks making him flinch instinctively. 

He didn’t feel like a person as he walked up the stairs. It was like he was already dead, just a ghost floating through the abandoned school. He didn’t even run into a teacher going home, or other classmates that had stayed back, and it was then that Izuku wondered just how long he’d been standing alone in that classroom, exactly. 

The city looked so beautiful from the roof. The sky seemed to stretch out forever, a promise of something so beautiful and vast. Izuku wondered if he lived to be an old, wrinkled man, would he understand the promise then? 

Which curiosity weighed more? 

Heights had never been a scary thing for him. Since he was little, Izuku had dealt with heights, to quote his mom, “like a pro.” He could never get the big deal. 

That stayed true now, as he climbed up on the edge of the building. A small, instinctual part of him was screaming to get off the ledge before he slipped and died, but it was easy to ignore. It always had been. Although, lately it seemed like it was getting stronger. Just a little bit more difficult. 

That terrified him. The thought that one day, that voice would be the one to outweigh his own curiosity. He didn’t want that. There was no way anybody seriously could, right? Was surviving really worth it if it meant suppressing that part of himself? 

Some might say yes. Some might even say that it was a good thing he was listening to the part of him that wanted to survive now, instead of the one that was always asking just how far he could push the lines of his mortality. But Izuku could never agree with them. As much as he hated the small, nagging voice in the back of his head that wouldn’t ever shut up, it was also one that made his life more interesting. 

It was the one that looked at Pro Heroes and made him write down every little aspect of their quirks. It was the one that let him look up at the clouds and wonder just how high they went, how far up he could travel before he reached the top. It was the one that, in a weird way, kept him sane. 

It was the reason none of Bakugou’s insults had ever truly sunk in, but had instead only fueled his curiosity that much more. 

If it meant sacrificing that part of himself, he didn’t need to grow old. He didn’t want to see his face grow wrinkled, his hair grow gray, his limbs start to ache. He didn’t need to see how the kids in the lower grades grew up. 

Instead, he’d trust them enough to leave the future to them. Yeah, that sounded better. 

He was born with this curiosity, and he’d die with it. 

It wasn’t sunset yet, which was a shame. Izuku would’ve liked to see one last one. Oh, well. At least the blue sky had lots of cumulus clouds floating around, forming a million shapes that a younger him would have spent hours detailing and tracing. 

Funny, how before he’d even realized it, he wasn’t a kid anymore. When you watch the people around you grow up, it doesn’t really feel like you’re growing too. After all, you’ve always just been you, right? That was what he thought, anyway. He’d never mourned his childhood, because it never really felt like there was a clear line between when that ended and the current, teenage him began. 

The air was cool on the way down. It didn’t hurt, at least, not at first. The air was nice, like a blanket, wrapping around him. 

Was it like this for others who did this? Did they feel the same rush of cool air around them, so kind and soft? Was it always this gentle? 

Was the knowledge of impending death always this comforting? 

Izuku had a nice view of the sky from where he was falling. It was like something from a painting, so still and calm. From the corners of his eyes, he could see his hair, flapping peacefully. It all felt so calm, like time had slowed down just for him. 

That was rather nice of it, to carve out a space in itself just for him, to help him be at peace during his last few moments alive. Distantly, he could see the roof, could see the rail where he’d jumped from. He wondered if he’d be able to pinpoint the exact spot if he ever saw it again. Probably not. He didn’t actually remember too much about the time before his jump. 

In fact, he didn’t seem to be remembering much of anything. Wasn’t your life supposed to flash before your eyes when you were about to die? Why was it not happening now? 

Maybe because this was of his own volition, a choice he’d made without consulting anyone else. That would make sense. He didn’t need to see his life, because he didn’t need to reflect on the past. In fact, he was sure that if he did do that, he would only begin to question his decision, and that wouldn’t be good. 

He was determined to die with no regrets. 

Maybe someone else would realize he did have some, a few years down the line. He wondered if that person would cry when they realized he still had things to accomplish. 

Not that it mattered. Those tears were for that person to shed, in the comfort of their own home, without the bother of anyone else. It would only be rude to them for Izuku to try and imagine them now. No, these last moments were all his own. 

The ground came quicker than he’d thought it would, his body landing with a sick-sounding crunch on the flat pavement. Distantly, he thought he could hear screams, but couldn’t focus on any of that. 

His body was on fire, pain shooting through every nerve ending. 

Hurts! 

It hurts! 

Hurts so bad! 

Why? Why does it-

Izuku’s thoughts were a mantra his mind was screaming at him. His head had turned to the side. His neck wasn’t broken, which was good, but he could tell that both his arms and legs were. They were twisted grotesquely, and he wondered if that was what had made someone scream earlier. 

His vision was starting to blur, but he could still see. Everything was moving so slowly. People were running towards him, but it felt like they were moving in slow motion, taking a lifetime to actually get to him. He could see every millisecond of their feet moving, the way they were running towards them. It was impossible to hear anyone, though. His ears were ringing loudly, drowning out anyone else. 

Maybe he’d burst an eardrum? 

The pain consumed him, swallowed him whole, overwhelmed him to the point where he eventually stopped feeling it, letting it fade to a background noise, and join the ringing in his head. 

He could see red out of the corner of his eyes. He flicked them over to the ground, and saw a giant puddle of blood. It was leaking off the sidewalk, trailing over the edge to dip down into the sewers. He pitied the poor worker who would discover it later. That wouldn’t be a fun discovery for anyone. 

One of the people who had run over to him, and was talking to him. Probably asking if he was alright, if he was alive. He felt fingers pressed to his neck, and smiled at the knowledge that he’d be dead soon. He couldn’t wait for the annoying pain to be gone. 

His vision was starting to go black, making the blood in front of him disappear as his head stopped aching. The pain in his muscles went away too. The ringing in his ears became a soft hum, instead. 

Was he dying? It felt so pleasant. His body was lighter than it’d ever been before, like he was just air, floating right out. Maybe that was his soul. He didn’t used to believe that people had souls, but maybe they did, and he would be proven wrong. 

The calm washed over him, and he let the peace engulf him as he floated away. 

*

It was a dick move, even Katsuki knew that. He didn’t need to go that far. 

It was a stupid, heat of the moment decision, and Katsuki was terrible at those. But it was like his mouth was moving on its own, the words slipping out before he could really think about the implications of them. 

And if even dumb and dumber were telling him that he’d been too harsh, he knew he’d really fucked up then. 

The guilt settled, an uncomfortable weight in his stomach. He knew the usual excuses he used of trying to keep the nerd from getting his stupid hopes up about an unrealistic dream wouldn’t work this time. No, there was no way he could excuse his actions this time. He’d gone too far, he knew that. 

But how was he supposed to apologize? It wasn’t like he was friends with the stupid nerd. There was a possibility of Deku eating up the apology like he had when they were younger, but deep down Katsuki knew that wouldn’t work anymore. He’d made sure to kill any goodwill Deku held for him a long, long time ago. 

Plus he hated apologizing, but he was ignoring that, because admitting two flaws in one day was more than he was willing to do. 

A couple people were walking towards Katsuki’s school. He wondered if there was some art fair he hadn’t been told about. Well, whatever. 

“I’ll see you guys later,” he told dumb and dumber. He never bothered learning extra names. In the long run, they’d only be a dot in his history, and he’d be that person they knew in middle school that went on to become famous. 

They needed him more than he needed them, and he was going to make sure he kept it that way. 

His mom was the only one home when he walked in. Not overly surprising, considering she got up at 4 am every morning and hated working in the afternoon. 

“How was your day?” she asked the second he had taken his shoes off. 

“None of your business,” Katsuki grumbled, heading straight for the stairs. It was a terrible response, but he really wasn’t in the mood to talk. 

“Oi! Where are you going? Come back here Katsuki! Katsuki!” his mom yelled, which only made him run up the stairs, going as fast as he could to get away from her. She was the last person he wanted to talk to right now, and he knew seeing her would only make the guilt from what he’d done earlier in the day worse. 

The door slammed loudly behind him, echoing around the room as he stared out the window. The sky seemed too bright for his mood, the cheery blue too happy, so he yanked his curtains shut before his knees finally gave out, the stress of the day finally collapsing onto him, taking out his knees and ability to walk. He curled up, making himself as small as he could possibly be, trying to hide from the faint rays that were still peaking through. 

He felt like a kid again, curled up and tiny, and wished that he was, wished he could disappear. Wished the shadows that the rays of light had created would swallow him whole and rid him of the gnawing pain in the pit of his stomach. 

*

Something was wrong, Katsuki knew it was, could feel it the second he stepped onto the school grounds. The air didn’t feel quite right in his lungs, his steps were too heavy, the breeze wasn’t heavy enough. A million little changes that made his entire body on edge, not knowing what was going to happen, only knowing it wouldn’t be good. 

A few people were whispering among themselves. One girl started crying, her friends holding her up, patting her back gently. 

Freaks , Katsuki thought, pushing the doors open. His usual reception was nowhere to be found, but that didn’t bother him. He made his way through the halls with the same confidence he usually had, his guilt from yesterday having faded to a small buzz in the back of his head. 

When he got into class, his minions were glancing at him, then frowned and started to mutter to each other. When one actually fucking glared at him, he felt his already thin patience snap. 

“Okay, what the fuck’s going on here?” he growled, stomping up to the group. A small, ugly part of him that he kind of hated felt smug at the way they all shrank away from him. “Everyone’s been giving me weird glances and muttering to themselves since I got here. What happened?” 

“It’s about last night…” one said, looking down. A couple tears started to roll down his cheeks, slipping out one after the other. Katsuki could practically feel a vein bursting in his forehead. 

“What?” he snapped, making one or two of them flinch. 

“It’s Midoriya, he…” the extra sniffled one last time before he continued, “yesterday, he jumped off the roof, and he… he’s dead.” 

“... what?” 

* 

Izuku stared down as the paramedics moved his body onto a stretcher. The blue sky didn’t seem quite so inviting anymore as he stared up at it, questioning what had just happened. 

He should be dead, shouldn’t he? But the afterlife… surely this wasn’t all there was to it? Was there? Was this all he would ever be? No, that couldn’t be right. There was no way. He’d been so careful, he’d made sure he was gone. 

What was going on?

Chapter Text

No way, this can’t be happening, no no no no no no no-

Izuku couldn’t process the information in front of him. His body was lying in front of him, unmoving, definitely dead. But then, why could he see it? 

It didn’t feel like he was dead. He felt the same as always. That was the scariest part. 

Slowly, he raised a couple fingers to his neck, and pressed down hard. A little relieved sigh escaped him when he couldn’t feel a pulse. He was definitely dead, then. And no one else seemed to be able to see him, which was a relief. 

One woman ran right in front of him as she bent down to examine his body. He had to hold back a laugh as he looked at her. After all, the situation was just so ridiculous, wasn’t it? He had tried to fucking kill himself, and instead ended up as some weird kind of ghost who’d been staring at his corpse for… a while. He couldn’t place time as easily anymore. Maybe it was a side effect of death. 

So all those lies about god hating people who kill themselves weren’t lies, huh? he thought, frowning. 

There was no way he could just stay by his body. There was a small possibility of him finding something out, but more likely he would just end up wasting time. 

Well, if he was really a ghost, then there had to be something he could do, right?

So, with his limbs now weighing him down like bricks, Izuku slowly walked away from the scene. 

He didn’t know how long he actually walked. All Izuku knew was that one second he was walking along his street to the sun going down, and the next second he looked up the sun was back up again, and he had somehow ended up at his school. 

The shock had faded into numbness, and he couldn’t even bother to feel anything as he walked into the school. 

Whispers followed him through the hallway, people glancing around nervously. Among them, Izuku heard his name a few times, but he found that he didn’t mind. After all, what did it matter if people gossiped about him now? He was gone. 

He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for, only that he was looking for something. A guiding force was controlling his body, and he let it, releasing the loose control he held as he followed the magnetic pull. 

That was, until he ended up at the door of his old homeroom and saw who he was being drawn towards. 

If the air in the hallways had been tense, then that was nothing compared to the energy in his old classroom. Students that had shunned and bullied Izuku his whole life stood around, chatting amongst themselves in hushed whispers and worried looks. Beside him, Izuku noticed a couple girls crying on each other’s shoulders by the door and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

Maybe it was bad that he was nonchalant. After all, he was dead. If he really had to think about the concept of it his head began to hurt, so he decided to put it out of his mind. 

The pull wasn’t coming from the two girls hugging. It wasn’t coming from his teacher, slumped over his desk with a blank stare. 

No, it was coming from the corner of the classroom, where a group of boys were all huddled around their ringleader. 

Every single one looked guilty, but Izuku didn’t really understand why. After all, it was his own curiosity that had drawn him onto that roof. But he supposed that the administration wouldn’t see things the same way. 

Walking (or was it floating? Drifting, perhaps?) towards them, Izuku finally caught a glimpse of the boy he had been drawn towards.

Bakugou Katsuki looked like shit. Some may have found that remark harsh, but Izuku could think of no other way to describe him. His eyes were hollow, staring blankly at the ground in front of him, while his face was pale and his normally spiky hair looked like it was falling down around the edges. 

“You don’t think we’ll get expelled, do you?” one of the boys asked. He had hair that fell in a triangle around his head and a shit eating grin that hadn’t left his face, despite the subject matter. Izuku felt a flare of annoyance at the way his death was being treated so casually. 

“Not us,” another boy said. His black hair was spiky and his eyes kept darting towards the door like he was scared a monster might walk in at any moment. “But Bakugou, man, how are you gonna get into U.A if you got a kid killed?”

Katsuki didn’t respond, still staring blankly at the ground. His lackeys waited for several minutes for his response, and when he continued to be silent they walked off, muttering to themselves about what they would do if they got punished. 

Izuku couldn’t help the feeling that they were overreacting. He kept up with the news often, and it wasn’t uncommon to see kids being bullied into suicide, but the perpetrators were almost never punished. In fact, when he went on international forums he would see people joking about it, as if that fact were just another aspect of Japan. 

Some may have found it sickening, but Izuku was more focused on Katsuki, who was standing as if petrified. The only indicator that he was alive was the faint rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed. 

“Bakugou Katsuki, please report to the principal’s office,” the speaker called, the morning bell going off a moment later. Izuku watched Katsuki to see what he would do, and noticed the entire class had turned to stare at him. 

Unfreezing, Katsuki pushed himself off the windowsill he had been leaning against and walked towards the door. For just a second, his eyes shifted towards Izuku like he could see him, and Izuku felt his body tense at the thought. But then he continued walking past without comment, Izuku following behind. 

Aside from one or two kids racing to get to their class, the hall was empty. Izuku walked beside Katsuki, who had somehow managed to remain petrified as he only moved his legs, the rest of his body staying completely still. 

It was odd. The last time Izuku could remember walking with Katsuki so casually was when they were kids, before the bullying had started. Before Katsuki found out he had a quirk. Before Izuku found out he didn’t. 

The casual companionship was messing with Izuku’s head, bringing up memories he buried a long time ago of when things were simpler. When Katsuki used to be Kacchan and Izuku used to be the most important person in his world. Even among Katsuki’s posse, Izuku had been singled out as the one closest to Katsuki. When their dynamic had changed so suddenly, it was earth shattering. 

Izuku had always thought it was just he who was affected, but as he looked closer at Katsuki’s red-rimmed eyes, he couldn’t help wondering if they had both been hurt by the distance. 

Katsuki paused outside the office to the principal, taking a deep breath. 

The principal was sitting on a massive rolling chair, and spun around to look at Katsuki in a way that reminded Izuku of cartoon villains he had seen on the television growing up. 

“I’m sure you know why you’re here, young man,” the principal said, flipping through a folder on his lap. Izuku walked around the desk and bent down to examine it, surprised to find that it had his name on it. He thought it would’ve had Katsuki’s. 

“Yeah,” Katsuki grunted, the first words Izuku had heard from him since his death. A bolt of lightning seemed to race up his spine at the sound, the magnetic feeling from earlier tripling in intensity. 

“Oh for goodness sake, sit down, boy,” the principal snapped. Katsuki flinched at the harsh tone, but settled into the chair across from the principal. “Now, as you know, you’re our academy’s best pupil.”

Katsuki sank down in the chair a little, glaring at the wooden floor in front of him. Izuku sat down in the chair beside him, leaning back to observe. Realising he could act however he wanted, he swung his feet up so his heels sat on the desk of the principal. 

“I know,” Katsuki grumbled, digging his nails into his knees. Izuku remembered that habit from when they were kids, and remembered the way Aunty Mitsuki would slap his hands after. 

“Good,” the principal said, setting Izuku’s folder down so that Katsuki could see what he had been looking through. Katsuki’s eyebrow twitched, but other than that he offered no reaction. “Now, there have been several rumours going around this school about the events of last evening. I have called you in here to help clear those rumours up.”

Katsuki raised his head, eyes wide. “So you aren’t expelling me?”

Izuku felt like rolling his eyes at the irony of it, and did after remembering that no one would notice his reactions. 

“That depends on what is said,” the principal said, raising a bushy eyebrow at Katsuki. “I do hope that we’re on the same page now, don’t you?”

Just like that, the excitement in Katsuki’s face disappeared, and he slumped back into his chair. Izuku, meanwhile, leaned forward. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted Katsuki to get kicked out, but he could feel his body thrumming with adrenaline. 

“Sure,” Katsuki grunted. 

“Wonderful,” the principal ignored his tone, shuffling a few other folders onto his desk. “Now why don’t you explain to me, in your own words, what happened last night?”

Izuku and Katsuki tensed up at the same time. 

“Uh, well,” Katsuki’s voice wasn’t much higher than a mumble as his shoulders pulled up and he curled in on himself. “I was talking to Deku, uh, Izuku, about high school. And then he said he wanted to go to U.A, so I said…”

“Yes?” the principal asked. Katsuki flinched, scooching his chair away. 

“You could just lie, you know,” Izuku mused to no one in particular. “Isn’t that what people usually do in situations like these?”

Katsuki’s eyes flickered over to him again, and Izuku wondered if Katsuki could hear him, but put the thought aside when Katsuki’s eyes refocused on the principal. 

“Uh, I just said that I would be trying to go there too,” Katsuki stuttered, folding his arms. “We done here?”

The principal hummed, flipping through another binder. This one had Katsuki’s name on it, and Izuku could see the way Katsuki’s shoulders tensed at the sight. 

“You and Midoriya were good friends, I hear,” the principal said. “I would recommend paying your condolences to his mother when you see her.”

Izuku stood up and backed away from the desk at the mention of his mother. He had been so busy with other thoughts that he put her reaction completely out of his mind, but the reminder that she would be grieving him felt like a punch to the gut. 

“I will,” Katsuki’s voice sounded about as shaky as Izuku felt. “Can I leave now?”

“You’re free to go,” the principal dismissed, and Katsuki practically sprinted out of the office, Izuku following close behind. 

They didn’t head to the homeroom, instead turning an early corner towards the boys’ toilets. Izuku followed Katsuki, but stayed outside of the stall to stare at the mirror, flinching at the sound of vomit. 

Izuku couldn’t see himself in the mirror, which was a weird experience. He felt his face to make sure he was still there, and thought about how he hadn’t even questioned his decision before jumping off that roof. Mostly, he assumed that he wouldn’t have to stay in the physical world after dying. 

Katsuki emerged from the stall looking even paler, and washed out his mouth and face before placing a hand on either side of the sink and looking in the mirror. 

“Are you real?” His voice was hoarse from vomiting. Izuku looked around to see if there was someone else in the bathroom, and when he found no one he paled. 

“You can see me?” Izuku asked. 

Katsuki turned to look at him, eyes wide and vulnerable and young , making him look like a kid for once instead of the hardened delinquent he tried so hard to be. 

“I thought I was going crazy,” he croaked. Izuku shook his head. 

“If you’re going crazy, then so am I,” Izuku sighed, pulling at his shirt. It was the same one he had been wearing when he jumped off that building, and he kind of wished he picked something more fashionable to wear if he was going to be stuck in it forever. Clothes usually weren’t a priority for him, but even he cared about being stuck in one outfit for eternity. 

“It’s not impossible,” Katsuki remarked dryly, and Izuku nodded his head in concession. “C’mon, I can’t talk to you here.”

*

Izuku was staring at the fish pond, and it took Katsuki a moment to remember why. 

The notebook , he thought guiltily. But guilt wouldn’t change what had happened. 

When he first saw Izuku in the classroom, he was sure it had just been his brain going into full on shock and refusing to process reality anymore. Then, when the Izuku hallucination spoke, Katsuki began to question if his hallucination was actually a hallucination. 

“Aren’t you worried about getting in trouble for skipping?” Izuku asked, running his hand along the surface of the pond. It made no ripples, and Katsuki couldn’t help but wonder if he could even feel the water. 

“You heard the principal, I’m the best student,” Katsuki joked, although it felt humourless. “It’s not like they’re gonna expel me anymore, right?”

“Right,” Izuku snorted, humourless as well. 

An awkward silence stretched over them. Katsuki used the time to examine Izuku. He hadn’t changed since the last time they saw each other, as solid and present as if he were still alive. The sight made Katsuki’s brain hurt. 

“So, what’s up,” he finally said. Izuku raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Oh, you know, not much,” Izuku remarked lightly. “Died yesterday, but other than that life had been pretty uneventful. How about you?”

Katsuki felt his face heat in embarrassment, and resisted the urge to lash out like he always did. Instead, he looked at the fish in the pond, swimming without worries, without a dead classmate coming to haunt them. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he mumbled. “I mean, just, ugh. Like, why are you here?”

“Oh,” the playful glint in Izuku’s eyes disappeared as he looked down kicking a stray stone. “Like why am I not gone?”

“I mean, from what I know dead people don’t usually just come back and haunt one person,” Katsuki snorted. Izuku hummed in agreement, kicking another stone. 

“It would be a lot easier for you if I would just stay dead,” Izuku mused. Katsuki felt his stomach drop. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he snapped, tucking his hands into his pockets to wipe the sweat off them. Accidentally exploding at Izuku wouldn’t do him any good. “Just, like, aren’t you supposed to go somewhere? If you’re dead?”

“I mean, I’m a novice at this whole ‘being dead’ thing,” Izuku drawled, “so I don’t really know. But I’ll be sure to ask customer service tomorrow.”

“Oh, shut up,” Katsuki grumbled. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and shoved them into the water, the sweat building up too much as Izuku stared at him. It was unnerving. Katsuki drew his lip between his teeth, gnawing on it. “Why did you do it anyway?”

He wouldn’t have blamed Izuku for yelling at him for that question, but when he looked up Izuku’s face had softened, his expression unreadable. “What, kill myself?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki mumbled, unable to actually say the words. It felt wrong, the two concepts so fundamentally contradictory. 

But Izuku just shrugged like it was no big deal. His expression was too tight for Katsuki to believe his attempt at being cavalier, but he didn’t comment on it. 

“Why does anybody do anything?”

Sighing, Katsuki decided to change the subject. “Well, either way you’re stuck here for now, and judging by the fact that no one else seemed to notice you, I think we’re kind of stuck… together.”

Both boys cringed at the word, eyeing each other warily. 

“What do we do now, then?” Izuku asked, his voice surprisingly soft. Katsuki felt his shoulders tense, not out of discomfort for once, but because he knew the answer. 

“We find out why.”

Chapter Text

Izuku groaned as he flopped against the couch. 

Deciding to skip school, Katsuki and he had made their way to Katsuki’s house, where both his parents would be absent due to work. They then got to work scouring through the internet for an explanation to why Izuku wasn’t dead, and what Katsuki could do to get rid of him, to put it in layman's terms. 

Two hours later both boys were exhausted and frustrated. Their search had certainly yielded results, but the results in question were so vast and contradictory that neither could settle on any one explanation. 

“Do you want some food?” Katsuki asked. Izuku was perched on a couch in his frankly massive room, while Katsuki was leaning against the headboard of his bead. At the inquisition, Izuku raised an eyebrow, and saw the Katsuki process what he had just said. “Oh, right, you wouldn’t be able to eat, would you?”

“I mean I haven’t tried,” Izuku admitted. “But I also haven’t felt hungry at all. I dunno. Time feels kind of weird now.”

“Weird?” Katsuki asked, sitting up. 

“Like, I know how much time is passing and how quickly, but I also feel kind of detached, if that makes sense,” Izuku sighed. “I don’t really know how to explain it. Time just isn’t really passing like it used to.”

Katsuki was staring at him for a long moment, and Izuku was about to ask if he had something on his face when the boy launched himself off his bed, knocking his computer to the ground. His blankets were piled beside his bed, so it just bounced harmlessly as Katsuki stretched, completely unbothered. 

“Well, I’m hungry,” the blond yawned, walking towards the door. He turned to look back at Izuku. “You coming or not Deku?”

Izuku had to blink a few times to remind himself that this was real, and stood up, tripping a little. “Uh, yeah.”

They made their way down to the kitchen in silence. Izuku could feel his whole body tense as he walked down, waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under him and Katsuki to reveal that he wasn’t being nice to Izuku, but had been secretly making fun of him the whole time instead. 

But Katsuki just made his way around the kitchen with practised familiarity, taking out pans and twisting the knobs of the stove as he chopped up vegetables with frightening speed and accuracy. Izuku settled onto a stool and let him work, surprised with how interested he found himself in the smooth way Katsuki sauteed the vegetables and tossed some pork in. 

“Well you don’t seem like you’re here to kill me,” Katsuki said after cutting all his ingredients up and tossing them in a pan. “So I doubt you’re some kind of malicious ghoul.”

“What a flattering description,” Izuku said, his voice flat. Katsuki just shrugged, using a wooden spoon to stir his lunch.

“I mean, if we’re going off the most popular description, then you should just have some unfinished business, right?” Katsuki mused, pouring his lunch over a bowl of rice and walking over to Izuku, who was surprised that he could smell the food. It didn’t make him react the way food used to, no hunger making his stomach growl. Instead, it felt like how food always smelled when Izuku was the furthest thing from hungry, present but ultimately unappetising. 

“I don’t feel very unfinished,” Izuku said. 

That was mostly a lie, but he wasn’t about to tell Katsuki that. Still, Katsuki raised an eyebrow the way he always did when he didn’t believe someone. 

“That’s the only explanation I’ve got,” Katsuki shrugged, scooping some of his stir fry up and eating. He waited until he was done chewing to continue talking. “If you have any other suggestions, then feel free to speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Izuku frowned at him, but he didn’t exactly have a response to that. 

“So let’s say, for suggestions’ sake, that I do have unfinished business,” Izuku grumbled, pacing around the kitchen. Katsuki remained seated at the dining table that was beside it. “What would this business in question be? Since you seem so keen on taking suggestions.”

Katsuki glared at him, stabbing his stir fry with more force than was necessary. “I’m just trying to help. You’re the one who killed himself.”

“I wonder why,” Izuku spat. That shut both of them up. 

Katsuki pushed his food around the bowl it was in, his face completely emotionless. Izuku almost wished he would yell. With the boy being so placated, he couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all, and it was infuriating. 

“I’d rather not fight with a dead person,” Katsuki muttered. “Seems kinda cruel.”

“I don’t exactly feel dead right now,” Izuku huffed.

“To you,” Katsuki pointed out, which made Izuku raise an eyebrow. Had Katsuki actually been treating him so weirdly because he was dead? The thought made his head hurt. “Whatever your unfinished bullshit is, it’s tied to me, right?”

“Supposedly,” Izuku agreed. 

“Then is this one of those things where I say sorry and you leave?” Katsuki asked. 

“Well, I wouldn’t mind an apology,” Izuku said. He was expecting Katsuki to just roll his eyes and tell him to fuck off, but instead Katsuki set down his cutlery and stared at Izuku, strangely serious. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was a piece of shit, and it was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

Both waited with baited breath. 

Nothing happened. 

“At least you tried,” Izuku said as Katsuki groaned and slammed his forehead against the table. 

“Of course you wouldn’t die right,” Katsuki grumbled. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Izuku scoffed. 

“Nothing,” Katsuki muttered. Izuku didn’t press the issue, leaning against the kitchen counter instead. 

“I do appreciate it, by the way.” When Katsuki just stared at him, bewildered, Izuku added, “The apology. Didn’t think I’d ever get one out of you, but it was nice even if it was fake.”

“And how do you know it was fake?” Katsuki asked, glaring at him. 

“Because I know you.”

Izuku sighed, pushing himself off the counter. “Maybe this is just some weird coincidence, or a really weird dream. It feels like the kind of weird thing my brain would concoct.”

“Well I’m no fucking dream,” Katsuki said, going back to eating. “So if anything, you’re the made up one.”

“Sure,” Izuku scoffed. 

“Why should I apologise, anyway?” Katsuki mumbled. Izuku was pretty sure he wasn’t meant to hear that, but he couldn’t help rolling his eyes at the remark. “What?”

“Are you being serious right now?” Izuku asked, eyes narrowing. “You really think you did nothing wrong.”

“It’s not my fault your dumbass kept putting yourself in danger,” Katsuki said, pushing his chair back as he stood up, marching over to Izuku. “Why should I apologise for keeping you from getting killed?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Izuku huffed. 

“I was looking out for you!” 

“LOOKING OUT FOR ME?” 

The scream rang through the kitchen, Katsuki faltering at the harsh tone of Izuku’s words. Izuku could feel his eyes welling with tears as he thought back to the whispers in hallways that had followed him for years, whispering he never minded with Katsuki beside him. He remembered the devastation he felt when he was left alone to deal with them after. 

“Maybe this isn’t about me having unfinished business,” Izuku said, marching towards Katsuki, who backed up. “Maybe this is just karmic punishment from the universe for daring to care about someone as awful as you.”

It wasn’t true. Katsuki had been Izuku’s idol his whole life, the boy he held up on a pedestal even when things went to shit between them. But Izuku didn’t care about the truth. He was dead, and there was no changing that. What did it matter who he hurt anymore? Why should he care? He’d been caring about other people’s emotions his whole life, and it had ended with his neck broken at the bottom of a building. 

The door creaked open, both boys turning in panic. 

Mitsuki and Masaru looked as picture perfect as the last time Izuku had seen them. The only thing changed were the dark circles and red stains around their eyes as they walked in, a weight to their shoulders that hadn’t been there before. 

Right , Izuku thought. They probably just found out . 

Katsuki’s face softened at the sight of his parents, and Izuku opened his mouth to apologise for what he said when he saw another person follow behind the couple. 

His mother. 

*

“Can I get you anything else, Aunty Inko?” Katsuki asked. The woman shook her head, smiling at him. 

“You’ve done quite enough, dear. Thank you.” It felt wrong, hearing Inko’s voice sound so broken.

Katsuki could remember the last time he saw her vividly. A year ago, when Izuku got sick, he had been put in charge of delivering spare homework to him. He’d handed it off to Inko, who offered him some tea before he left. It would have been rude to refuse, and he figured it was no harm considering Izuku was cooped up in his room, so he accepted. 

Overall, it had been a very one note interaction. Inko asked him her usual questions about how he was doing in school and what he wanted to do once he graduated, and he gave his standard responses about wanting to become a hero and joining U.A. 

Still, it was always nice talking to her. Unlike Izuku, whose presence seemed to ignite some deep seated urge to yell in Katsuki, his mother was a universally calming presence. Even after Izuku and Katsuki stopped hanging out, she was kind to him. That was probably because she didn’t know what he would say to her son at school, but he chose to ignore that part. 

“No problem,” he said, his voice clipped. Awkwardly, he settled into the seat next to her, his parents taking up the other side of the table. 

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Izuku hovering in the kitchen. He was regarding his mom with wide eyes, but he hadn’t spoken since she entered. Katsuki’s chest tightened, and then he reminded himself that Izuku and he had been yelling at each other a few minutes ago, so he probably didn’t have a right to be worried. 

Huffing, Katsuki turned back to the table. 

“I just heard the news, honey, I can’t believe it,” Mitsuki said, reaching out across the table to take Inko’s hand in hers. “How are you holding up?”

Katsuki figured that was just about the worst question you could ask someone after their kid killed themself, but Inko seemed to appreciate it, forming a weak smile through her teary eyes. They had been teary since she entered, never going dry once. Katsuki wondered if her eyes would be like that forever, always on the verge of crying without a single tear actually falling. 

Deku was always a big cryer , he thought. It was a trait his mother and he shared, but Inko was strangely lacking in tears for her son. 

“I just can’t believe it,” Inko hiccuped. “I can’t think of a single reason for him to do what he did, and yet he did it, didn’t he?”

The three Bakugous looked at each other helplessly. Each knew the answer they wanted to give, and each knew the answer that they would have to. Katsuki dug his nails into his knees under the table. 

“It’s a tragedy,” Mitsuki said, her voice firm. Katsuki and Masaru both nodded in agreement. “Have you thought about a funeral yet?”

“Oh, goodness,” Inko hiccuped. “Oh no, I have to throw one. Oh, what if none of his classmates show up? He always struggled with friends, you know what I mean. Katsuki was the only one he ever kept.” 

Katsuki tensed, and could practically feel Izuku do the same behind him. 

“Now you don’t worry about that,” Mitsuki said. “Katsuki will make sure the class shows up, won’t you Katsuki?” 

Katsuki nodded. He would have either way, even if his mother didn’t glare at him the way she always did before slapping him upside the head. “I’ll talk to our classmates.”

“And Masaru and I will help you plan out the funeral,” Mitsuki continued, her voice soft in a way Katsuki only ever heard when she talked to small animals. “You won’t be alone in all of this, I promise.”

“You’re too sweet,” Inko said, smiling through her teary eyes at the couple. 

Katsuki heard shuffling behind him, and turned to see Izuku walking out of the room towards the stairs. Without thinking, he stood up to follow him. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Mitsuki snapped. Katsuki turned to yell at her, but drew a blank at the sight of Inko. 

“I think I need to be alone,” was what he settled on. The adults' expressions all softened, Inko’s more than either of his parents. She drew her hand out of Mitsuki’s, and took both of Katsuki’s.

“You go rest dear,” she said. Katsuki hadn’t even been upset before, but at the soft tone of her voice he felt his eyes water. He drew his hands away from her, using them to chuff his eyes. If any of his friends from school could see him, they’d call him a pussy for sure. 

“Thanks, Aunty Inko,” he mumbled, and darted up the stairs.

He pushed open the door to his room gently. Izuku was sitting by his window, staring out at the street below. He didn’t turn as Katsuki entered, sitting on his couch, a respectful distance away. 

It felt stupid. A couple days ago he would never have adjusted where he sat to make the stupid nerd more comfortable, and here he was bending over backwards for him. Well, maybe he wasn’t going that far, but the point still stood. 

“I tried to jump out the window,” Izuku said, his voice hollow. “Turns out I couldn’t. I think I’m limited with how far away from you I can go.”

“Pretty shit deal,” Katsuki said. An olive branch, of a kind. 

“You’re telling me,” Izuku scoffed. Not a rejection, so Katsuki would take it. 

“I don’t wanna fight,” Katsuki sighed, placing his head in his hands. Izuku turned to look at him, expression unreadable. 

“Then stop picking one,” he said, but his voice wasn’t aggressive. No, he was completely calm, which almost unsettled Katsuki even more. He raised his head, staring at the boy. 

“Alright.”

They didn’t talk for a long time, just sat there in silence. But it felt different than the earlier silences that had been plaguing their interactions. There was no underlying animosity and agitation in this one. 

Katsuki knew they still had plenty of shit that they’d buried, but for the moment they had an unspoken agreement to set that aside. They were stuck together. Might as well make the best of it. 

A knock at the door made both boys jump. Without waiting for an answer, Mitsuki poked her head in. 

“What is it, hag?” Katsuki asked, cringing internally at the way he sounded uncertain. Mitsuki frowned at his term of endearment for her the way she always did, but for once didn’t yell at him for it. 

“You’re a stubborn boy,” she said, glaring at him. “And you infuriate me for many reasons. But Inko is going to need me going forward.”

“I know that,” Katsuki bristled, defensive. 

“She’ll need me more than you,” Mitsuki continued. “So I won’t have time to be checking in all the time from here on out. This is me checking in before I can’t anymore.”

Katsuki stared at his mother, momentarily at a loss for words. “How efficient of you.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Mitsuki snapped. Then, she softened. “Izuku was your friend. I know you’re the most emotionally constipated member of our family on a good day, but things like this do need to be talked about.”

“I’m fine,” Katsuki said, surprised at how calm he sounded. “Deku’s dead. Everyone gets there eventually, right?”

Mitsuki just rolled her eyes, turning around. “Why do I even try?”

“A wonderful question,” Katsuki called after her. After she left, he saw Izuku staring at him with wide eyes. “What?”

Izuku just shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand you.”

Chapter Text

Izuku never thought much of his friendship with Katsuki. It was as natural to him as the sun rising each morning, as the bloom of cherry blossoms in spring, as the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. 

That was, of course, until it wasn’t. 

But back when they had been close, they had been the most important people in each other’s lives. Even after Izuku failed to get a quirk, it would take several years for Katsuki to distance himself to the point that he would later. 

Those first few years had been alright. Until they were about ten, Katsuki and Izuku continued their tumultuous friendship with its rocky foundation on a tilt. Since Izuku’s diagnosis as quirkless when he was four, there was a tension in the air between them, but they chose to ignore that in favour of each other’s company. 

Then things began to shift. 

Katsuki slowly started to distance himself from Izuku, becoming increasingly frustrated with him whenever they hung out together. He began to push boundaries, goading Izuku with small insults and seeing which ones Izuku would protest. 

The last time they hung out before they stopped talking was one that Izuku would never forget. 

The two had been on the floor of Izuku’s bedroom, combing through All Might comics together. They were twelve at the time, pressed shoulder to shoulder against each other on the floor. 

Izuku, despite everything, still felt safest with Katsuki. That was back when he had still been Kacchan to Izuku, back when it felt like there was still hope to repair things one day, even if that hope was slowly diminishing each time they spoke to each other. 

Maybe it was something in the air that day, but Katsuki didn’t insult Izuku once when they hung out together. He’d shown up unannounced, demanding to know if Izuku had seen the new issue of the All Might comics release, and when Izuku said he bought one Katsuki had stormed in without asking. 

Izuku couldn’t bring himself to mind. He hummed contentedly beside Katsuki, thumbing through an old issue. 

“What song is that?” Katsuki asked, snapping Izuku out of his relaxed trance. 

“It isn’t,” Izuku said, feeling strangely flustered. Something about how close Katsuki’s face was to his was making his face feel like it was on fire. “I was just making up a tune.”

“It’s nice,” Katsuki remarked. Izuku felt like his head was swimming, but he forced himself to snap out of it and turn back to his comic book. “Why don’t you do that more often?”

“I just don’t,” Izuku shrugged. Part of him wanted to question Katsuki’s behaviour, but a bigger part didn’t want to say anything. They were getting along, and it had been many months since Izuku heard Katsuki talk to him with such a soft voice. 

“You should,” Katsuki mumbled, flipping to the next page of the new All Might comic. Izuku had woken up at dawn yesterday to get it, barely managing to grab the last one before it sold out. When he showed it to Katsuki, the boy’s eyes gleamed as he asked sheepishly if he could read it. 

Izuku handed it over without hesitation. 

“Can I ask you something?” Izuku said, biting his lip. Katsuki raised an eyebrow, not moving, and since it wasn’t a rejection Izuku decided to move forward. “Why did you really come over here?”

“It’s a weird saying,” Katsuki replied. 

“Huh?”

“Can I ask you something,” he turned his head to Izuku. “But by asking if you can ask, you’re asking a question.”

“I guess,” Izuku shrugged, confused. “I never really thought about it before.”

“Guess not,” Katsuki sighed, leaning in so his forehead was almost pressed against Izuku’s. The young boy could feel his heart beat grow louder, and could only hope that Katsuki hadn’t noticed. “Hm.”

“Hm?” Izuku squeaked, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt. 

“I heard about the new All Might comic,” Katsuki said flippantly, turning a few pages. “Told you that when I came over, didn’t I?”

“But that’s not why you really came over,” Izuku laughed. “You wait until school to ask me stuff like that.” Katsuki’s hand paused, and Izuku couldn’t help wondering if he should have pointed that out. After all, Katsuki knew all about his journaling, but he had no idea of the journals Izuku had reserved for him. 

“I was talking to some people,” Katsuki muttered. Izuku felt his eyebrows raise; he hadn’t really expected a response. “Uh, a couple of my extras. About stuff.”

“Stuff,” Izuku repeated. Katsuki nodded, shifting around. 

“Have you ever kissed someone?” 

Izuku’s face burned, and he jolted away from Katsuki, sputtering. “W-why would you ask me that?”

Katsuki became incredibly interested in the paper in front of him, his ears tinted red. “Shut up, nerd.” His hands shook where they held the manga in front of him. Then, he muttered, “It was just a stupid question.”

Izuku couldn’t help the way his eyes trailed up Katsuki’s face, from his shaking hands to his furrowed brow. A week ago Katsuki had shoved past him in the hallway, not even glancing his way, and now he was asking Izuku if he’d ever been kissed. For the past year he’d gone through a song and dance of ignoring and befriending Katsuki. 

He was tired of ignoring what they were dancing around. 

“No,” he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “If you want to know so badly, then the answer is no, I haven’t.”

He turned back to his own book when he heard the rustle of paper beside him stop, Katsuki staring at him with wide eyes. “Oh,” Katsuki sighed. 

They continued reading for a while, the sky outside turning orange then red, then a dark navy blue. By the time it got to dinner, the two boys had changed topics of conversation so many times that Izuku lost count, mostly circling back to All Might and avoiding the conversation of high school and quirks altogether. 

But they never talked about quirks with each other. 

By the time the sky outside finally turned black, Izuku opened his mouth to ask Katsuki when he’d be going home. 

“So if you’ve never been kissed,” Katsuki said, snapping his book shut, “well, I haven’t either. So we both haven’t kissed anyone.”

“Yeah?” Izuku asked. He’d moved to his bed, Katsuki remaining on the floor as Izuku leaned over to talk to him. Katsuki’s face was a bright shade of red that glowed even in the darkness of nightfall. 

“Well, it’s stupid to not have a first kiss before you go into high school,” Katsuki mumbled. 

“We have two years for that Kacchan,” Izuku laughed, shoving Katsuki’s shoulder lightly. But Katsuki didn’t join in his laughter, and Izuk quieted quickly. “What is it?”

“It’s a stupid idea,” Katsuki grumbled. 

That was what finally made it click for Izuku. Katsuki’s bright red face, how he avoided why he came over, why he kept dancing around topics altogether. At the realisation, Izuku felt his own face heat up not with embarrassment, but another feeling entirely. 

“You’re asking if I’d be your first kiss,” Izuku’s voice sounded much breathier than usual, at least to him. 

Katsuki looked up at him, red eyes meeting green, and nodded slowly. Time seemed to slow around the two of them as they leaned in, breathing in sync. 

“Would that be okay?” Katsuki asked, his own voice sounding almost as breathless as Izuku’s. 

Instead of responding, Izuku leaned in. 

*

Katsuki was in a terrible mood. 

The funeral was tomorrow. 

It had been two weeks since Izuku died. Considering he’d been following Katsuki around like a particularly difficult to get rid of fly since then, it was still difficult for Katsuki to process. 

His extras certainly didn’t seem to have a problem with accepting Izuku’s death. Since they discovered that Katsuki would be receiving no punishment from the school for how he treated Izuku, they’d been following him around almost as much as, well, Izuku had. Both seemed to think themselves invincible, their bullying shifting onto other students. 

Little did they know that, even though the principal might not have punished him, the universe certainly did. 

Since Izuku and he decided to try and get along, things had actually been pretty pleasant between them. So wonderfully pleasant and polite and perfect and every other word that starts with a p Katsuki could think of. 

He hated it. 

Not more than what he was currently doing, though. 

Inko thought it would be a good idea for Katsuki to come and get some of Izuku’s old stuff. According to her, she couldn’t bear to look at it anymore, and she looked so sad when she began explaining that to Katsuki that he agreed to come over without thinking about it. 

Not thinking about it was currently proving impossible. 

“I can’t believe she invited you over like this,” Izuku complained loudly, lounging on his bed. He’d grown accustomed to being a ghost pretty quickly, talking loudly to Katsuki everywhere they went and giving Katsuki several different headaches as he tried to avoid answering Izuku in public so that people wouldn’t think he was insane. 

“She was trying to do something nice,” Katsuki pointed out, rummaging through a couple of Izuku’s All Might figurines, which seemed endless. “What about this one?”

“And worst of all, she threatened to throw out whatever you don’t take!” Izuku continued, ignoring him. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her, really. When I used to talk about going off to university she’d tell me that she’d keep my room just the way I left it.”

“I don’t think those promises hold up when someone dies,” Katsuki said, which shut Izuku up quickly. At the sight of him glaring, Katsuki added, “She’s asking because she thinks I’ll take the best care of your stuff. And I can, considering I literally have you here to tell me how. So could you stop complaining for five seconds and tell me what you don’t want to lose?”

At Izuku’s silence, Katsuki felt his shoulders tense. He was gearing up to apologise when Izuku spoke. 

“I’d prefer keeping all of them,” Izuku muttered, poking his mattress. His hand made no indent. 

“I don’t know if my room has that much space,” Katsuki said, frowning at the display. Izuku hopped off his bed, inspecting the lineup. He was shoulder to shoulder with Katsuki, the only person he could actually make physical contact with. They discovered that after  Katsuki fell off his bed and landed on top of Izuku, who had been trying to fall asleep too. Not the best way to find out. 

“Can’t you just throw out some of your stuff?” Izuku asked, glaring at him. Rolling his eyes, Katsuki turned away and began going through a different bookcase. There were three overall, which meant that there was almost no room to walk. 

“As tempting as that sounds, I’m gonna have to say no,” Katsuki said, thumbing through a couple books. “And I’m not taking anything I don’t already have.”

“That’s fine, but some of these are collectibles!” Izuku groaned, holding up one figurine that was, in fact, a collectible. Katsuki could remember the day Izuku ran up to him at school, rambling about how he’d saved up his allowance money to buy it and grinning as he spouted off facts Katsuki already knew. Katsuki went home in a foul mood that day because he didn’t have one of his own. 

“I’m gonna do my best to keep what I can, but like I said, I only have so much space in my room,” Katsuki said. “I can’t believe you have this many journals.”

“How is that what’s surprising?” Izuku scoffed, turning to look at Katsuki, who was picking up one of them to flip through. He remembered what Izuku’s journals had been about, his ramblings about heroes making their way onto paper. 

He missed the way Izuku’s eyes widened at the sight of which journal he was looking at. 

“I thought you only wrote about heroes?” Katsuki grinned as he flipped through it. “There’s some of our classmates' names in here.”

“Kacchan, that’s not-”

“I’m in here,” Katsuki continued, still grinning as he looked at the passage. “‘Today, Kacchan came over. I keep getting confused about whether he hates me or not,’ that’s pretty harsh, don’t you think Deku?”

“Wait, that entry isn’t-”

“Oh look!” Katsuki lit up as he flipped the page. “This seems a bit more flattering. ‘Kacchan really is the most confusing person ever. I think I know him, and then he goes and asks me to kiss him.’” Katsuki froze, looking over at Izuku, who had become very interested in the figurine he was holding. 

Katsuki remembered that day. It was a day he wasn’t sure he could forget. 

He made up a completely ridiculous reason to visit Izuku that morning, combing through his head for a reason to go talk to Izuku. After all, there was no way he could say the real reason he was going over, which was to ask Izuku to kiss him. 

It was one of his extra's ideas, to get his first kiss out of the way early. Apparently one or two of them had already, and it was becoming more common for people to have their first kiss young, so that they could hop straight into dating in high school without any worries. And well, Katsuki prided himself on being the best at everything he did, so he certainly wasn’t going to let some extra upstage him. 

Nobody would have to know it was Izuku. That was the excuse he’d come up with after he decided on who to ask. Girls had never interested him, and if he was kissing somebody to get it out of the way then Izuku was the only one he could trust to actually keep Katsuki’s inexperience a secret. 

The way Katsuki acted after still made his face burn with shame. He’d ignored Izuku for weeks, and when he finally started talking to him again it was just to dissuade him from going to U.A, which he started to fixate on. Every time he thought about Izuku’s kiss, he replaced it with the frustration of Izuku trying to aim towards U.A, which he was never going to get into. 

“We can just, uh, forget you read that,” Izuku finally said, his voice snapping Katsuki out of his thoughts. He turned towards Izuku, who still wasn’t looking at him. “I mean, it’s not like it meant anything, right?”

Katsuki prided himself on being a smart kid. He knew what Izuku was doing. It was an out, a way to avoid the confrontation discussing that day would bring them. They could go back to their perfectly pleasant interactions and never think about the kiss, or the journal, ever again. 

He was about to set it back on the bookshelf when his hand froze. 

“What if I kept it?” he asked, the question ringing around the room. A risky question. Dangerous, even. He kept looking at Izuku, who finally looked back, his eyes darting between the journal and Katsuki, like he was a puzzle Izuku hadn’t pieced together yet. 

Katsuki remembered seeing those eyes up close, the way they were wide when he asked Izuku if they could kiss. The way the drooped closed when Izuku leaned in, and opened just slightly when he pulled away again. The way they widened in shock and betrayal when Katsuki brushed by him like nothing happened. 

The way they were staring at him, wide with shock, at the present. 

“What if you kept it?” Izuku asked, his voice raw and wavering with doubt. It wasn’t like Katsuki could blame him for being distrustful. He was the major reason for it. 

“What if I kept it,” Katsuki repeated, firmer this time. 

The journal was held between them, an omen, or maybe a reminder. Of what was to come, of what was once there. Izuku looked up, meeting Katsuki’s eyes. 

“Then I think that would be alright.” 

Chapter Text

The funeral was a quiet affair.

Everything in Izuku’s death felt quiet. 

People showed up. So many people, many more than he imagined. But he doubted anyone would have dared to miss it after Katsuki practically threatened the whole class if they didn’t attend.

His mother cried the whole day. Izuku didn’t look her way, following close behind Katsuki for the event. 

He’d been a particular mystery to Izuku. After the funeral, Katsuki was strangely calm, and since then he avoided his extras completely. Even when he got into U.A after the entrance exam, he didn’t tell anyone. In fact, he spoke to nobody at the exam itself, lurking in a corner to glare at people and rampaging through the robots that the students had to attack. 

Spring was quiet. 

When Katsuki had his first class at U.A, Izuku was worried, but he couldn’t deny his own excitement as well. It wasn’t exactly the way he used to imagine it, but one way or another he would be attending his dream school. 

The morning of his first day, Katsuki was quiet. The months of being stuck to each other had changed the boys, forcing a kind of familiarity that could only be gained through constant exposure to a person onto them. So Izuku didn’t ask Katsuki questions as he went to his bathroom to change, or when he came back with his shirt untucked and looking like a delinquent. 

He wasn’t asking him questions as Katsuki turned the uniform tie over in his hands, examining it with feigned disinterest. But Katsuki was never a good liar, and with the amount of time Izuku had been spending in his company he could read Katsuki better than anyone. 

“I guess we should get going,” Katsuki said, still glaring at himself in the mirror. 

“Well you can’t be late on your first day,” Izuku joked. When Katsuki’s mouth twitched at the comment he felt his own mouth stretch into a grin. 

That was the strangest part of their forced proximity. Without the ability to ignore or avoid each other, the boys’ routine had led to them almost enjoying each other's company. Some days it almost felt like they had never grown apart, their companionable silences filled with side eyed glances and soft smiles. 

“I’ve gotta make a good first impression,” Katsuki agreed, taking one last glance at himself in the mirror before scooping up his book bag and heading off. 

U.A was a massive school. It towered over Izuku, its status radiating from its massive walls.

Izuku looked over at Katsuki, who was regarding the school as well. His mouth was pressed in a thin line, the only indicator of his thoughts. Together, they made their way towards the classroom, the way easy to find. All they had to do was follow the sound of voices. 

A group had gathered around the various desks. Some of the faces were familiar, ones Izuku recognised from the exam. Others were complete strangers, which was to be expected since there were multiple exam groups. One of the boys Izuku did recognise, a boy with spiky red hair and a constant smile. 

He approached them. 

Well, Katsuki really, but Izuku could picture himself as a part of the group being approached. 

“You’re Bakugou Katsuki, right?” the boy said, grinning. “Eijirou Kirishima. You were so cool at the exam, dude! Me and the others were super impressed.”

“The others?” Katsuki asked, warily. Izuku peered over Kirishima’s shoulder to see a blond with a black streak of lightning in his hair, a girl with two very long ears, and another girl who was pink all staring at Katsuki. 

“Look like you’re gonna be just as popular as middle school,” Izuku remarked, hopping up on Katsuki’s desk. Katsuki just grunted, unable to respond around people. 

“How did you take down all those robots so easily,” Kirishima continued, a small crowd forming around Katsuki. Izuku noticed a second crowd forming on the other side of the room. The students there looked a bit more straight-laced than the kids surrounding Katsuki. 

He wondered for a second what would have happened if he did get into U.A. Katsuki definitely would’ve still hated him, and he probably would have gone over to the group on the other side of the classroom. 

His head began to hurt and he slipped off of Katsuki’s desk, clutching it. He saw Katsuki glance worriedly at him, but he didn’t react any more than that. So Izuku left, running into the hallway and sliding down a wall. 

It would be the furthest he could get from Katsuki. As he sat, Izuku wondered if he would spend the next three years with Katsuki, sitting outside his classroom trying to fend off headaches. What a depressing thought. With the way things were going that seemed to be Izuku’s only choice. 

He groaned, letting his head thump against the wall. 

Loud noises were coming out of the classroom, and Izuku watched as a man in a yellow sleeping bag inched past him like a worm. Then, more yelling, followed by complete silence. 

He could hear a deep voice talking to the students. The man in the sleeping bag, probably. A bit of an odd way to introduce yourself to a classroom, but Izuku figured he didn’t have much room to judge. After all, he was currently a ghost, so what did he know?

He tried to picture spending a lifetime like this. Attending school events with Katsuki, always beside him but never able to have a conversation. Watching as Katsuki attended Izuku’s dream school, graduated with flying colours, became the hero Izuku had always dreamed of being. 

All the while he would be silent. Always there, always watching, never able to do more than that. 

He tried to imagine what Katsuki would say if he voiced those thoughts. Brush him off, probably. After all, it wasn’t like they were really friends. They hadn’t been for a long time. The only reason they were even together was because, for some reason, the universe thought it would be a fun idea to stick Izuku in the worst purgatory imaginable. 

He sighed, holding back tears as he looked at the ceiling. 

“I shouldn’t have jumped.”

*

Izuku was avoiding him. 

Maybe it was to be expected. They were constantly stuck to each other, breathing the same air. After some amount of time one of them was bound to break. 

Katsuki just figured he would be the one to break first. He supposed some would call that selfish, but it was just the way things worked. He avoided Izuku, Izuku followed him. That was the way things had always worked towards them. 

Until they hadn’t. 

He’d been in high school for over a month, and it had proved to be something out of Katsuki’s worst nightmares. Gone were the days of his extras and their blind worship. Instead, he was left with classmates that constantly goaded him into snapping. Izuku told him they were just trying to be friendly, and then he hadn’t said anything at all. 

That seemed to be a theme with him lately. 

Whatever, Katsuki thought, snapping the book he’d been reading shut. It wasn’t like Izuku could avoid him forever. They were stuck with each other. 

“Hey, is this true?” Kirishima asked, holding up a newspaper. 

Kirishima, Kaminari, and Mina had all decided to go study in the school library, Katsuki being included before he could make up an excuse. Ten minutes into the visit they stopped studying, and an hour later Katsuki was the only one still doing his readings. 

Izuku was sitting in an empty chair beside him, reading the textbook over Katsuki’s shoulder. 

“I can’t read it if you hold it like that, Shitty Hair,” Katsuki grumbled, shoving the newspaper away from him. 

“It says a kid at your old school died,” Kirishima said, placing the newspaper on the table. The table hushed, Mina and Kaminari leaning over to inspect the paper. “He would’ve been our age, wouldn’t he? Says here his name was Midoriy-”

“I know what his name is-was,” Katsuki snapped, snatching his book off the table. He faked reading until he noticed everyone at the table was still staring at him. “What?” 

“You knew him?” Kirishima asked, the pity evident in his voice. Katsuki bristled at the tone. 

“So what?” he snapped. Beside him, Izuku had pulled away from where he was peering over Katsuki’s shoulder, eyes shifting between the other people at the table. It was annoying Katsuki more than it should have, which was in turn annoying him more. 

“Were you guys, like, friends?” Kirishima asked. Mina elbowed him, but he just shrugged. “You don’t have to answer, obviously.”

Izuku finally looked at Katsuki, the attention pleasing him way more than it should have as everyone waited for Katsuki’s answer. He shrugged. 

“What if we were?” he asked, but he wasn’t looking at any of the people at his table. He was looking straight at Izuku.

“Were we?” Izuku asked, standing up and walking over to the bookshelves. Katsuki watched him go, his green hair disappearing around a corner. 

“I’m sorry dude, I didn’t know,” Kirishima was saying. The whole table was looking at him with pity. He couldn’t stand it. 

“You shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to,” was all Katsuki said before standing up as well, following Izuku to the bookshelves. 

Their pull wasn’t just one way. He’d led Izuku into believing that was the case, but the longer they’d been attached at the hip the more Katsuki realised that he could actually sense when Izuku was reaching the border for how far away he could be. 

It wasn’t a direct pull, more of a warmth that slowly spread throughout his body the closer he was to Izuku. He followed that warmth as he walked between the bookshelves, keeping his eye out for green. 

Of course he found Izuku in the manga section. 

He was flipping through an old All Might comic when Katsuki approached him, sitting a respectable distance away. 

“Are you alright?” Katsuki asked, keeping his voice low. The last thing he needed after people at his new school found out about Izuku was for them to find out he talked to himself constantly as well. 

“Peachy,” Izuku replied, almost ripping the page of the book out as he turned it. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s not like I’m dead or anything.”

“Why are you so moody lately?” Katsuki huffed. “What, are you jealous or something?” 

Izuku’s face flushed red. “Jealous!” he yelled. Nobody around them even flinched at the sound. “What possible reason could I have for being jealous of you?” 

“Because I’m going to your dream school, and you’re dead ,” Katsuki hissed, his temper rearing for the first time in months. He regretted saying the words the second they came out of his mouth, even more so when he saw how Izuku’s face fell. “Look, I only meant-”

“Maybe you’re right,” Izuku muttered. Katsuki stared at him, dumbstruck. 

“What?”

“I mean,” Izuku looked down, ears flushing red, “what if I did regret it? Jumping that day?” 

A man walked through the aisle, browsing the different titles, and Katsuki was glad that the presence of another person allowed him to avoid answering that question. It felt like he was at a very important crossroads, and he couldn’t help feeling like whatever he said next would change things between Izuku and him. 

“There’s no way to take that back, Deku,” Katsuki said softly once the man walked away. Izuku scoffed. “What?”

“Why did I think you’d get it,” Izuku muttered. 

“Hey!” 

“Forget it,” Izuku mumbled, standing up. Katsuki grabbed his arm, glaring at him.

“If you could stop getting offended for two seconds,” Katsuki whisper-yelled, glancing around to make sure he wasn’t getting any strange looks, “then maybe we could talk.”

“Why does it even matter?” Izuku yelled, putting in none of the effort to keep his own voice down. “Like you said, I can’t take it back. We’ve figured out nothing about why I’m stuck with you, I’m probably going to be stuck like this forever, and you get to attend the school I dreamed about while I get to sit in the shadows forever. Sorry I’m not exactly peachy about that.”

Izuku snatched his arm away from Katsuki, who had taken to staring at the floor. “Happy now?” 

“Stop lying to me,” Katsuki muttered. 

“And what makes you think I’m lying?” Izuku scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

“Because I know you,” Katsuki snapped. 

“You can never just leave things alone,” Izuku muttered. 

“And you keep trying to pretend that nothing’s wrong!” It came out louder than he meant it to, one or two people glancing at Katsuki as they passed the aisle. He cursed quietly. 

“Is there something wrong?” Izuku asked. Katsuki couldn’t make out the expression on his face, which worried him far more than Izuku just being mad at him. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Were we friends, Kacchan?” Izuku asked. Katsuki froze with a chill. “Were we just friends? Were we ever even that?” 

“Don’t do this,” he said weakly, but it was too late. He recognised the fire in Izuku’s eyes. 

This wasn’t ending the easy way. 

“Was I ever your friend, or just another one of your extras? Or maybe I was just some stupid Deku for you to use and throw away, hm?” Izuku’s eyes shone with tears as he marched towards Katsuki, backing him against the bookshelf. “I really don’t understand you. I’m your best friend but you bully me, you kiss me then you ignore me and I’m the one who’s lying?” 

Izuku shoved him against the bookshelf, pressing forward until they were nose to nose and Katsuki could make out the exact way his freckles stretched around his glare. 

“I think we both know who’s the one that’s full of shit, and it isn’t me,” Izuku spat, marching off again. 

Katsuki didn’t chase after him.

Chapter Text

Things had been the epitome of bad since their fight at the library. 

Izuku was relieved. 

He may have still been stuck to Katsuki, but they didn’t talk, didn’t do so much as even look at each other. 

Katsuki began to grow closer to his classmates. Over time, his constant complaining at their attention faded into only the occasional grunt about hanging out with them, and then into nothing. By the time he’d been there for half a year, he had almost completely integrated into the school. 

He watched Katsuki get everything the two had dreamed up for each other. 

A part of Izuku almost wished he would get jealous. It would be easier if he could rage and shout at Katsuki until he got over whatever baggage was tying him to earth, and move on. 

The stay was bad for him. Every day that passed since his death, he could feel himself growing wearier. It was an odd sensation. 

By the end of Katsuki’s first semester, the two seemed both closer and further than ever. 

The silence finally broke in August. 

The days were long and excruciating. Heat seemed to seep into the walls. Spring had been lukewarm, and July had been cool, so Izuku wasn’t even sure if he would be able to feel the temperature with his death. 

He was quickly answered. 

With the weather being what it was, nobody was going anywhere. Katsuki and Izuku were no exception, and there was only so long the two could avoid each other when they were confined to the air conditioning. 

It happened when Katsuki was cooking. 

His parents were off at work, but the break between semesters had finally taken place, which meant no distractions for Katsuki. His friends hadn’t come to visit his house yet, and Izuku had been wondering if he would visit them instead. 

He tried not to think too much about how much the thought bothered him. 

“You’re going to break a plate like that.” Those were the first words Izuku said after two months of silence. Katsuki was slamming plates around the kitchen. It was a habit he picked up to fill their silences, considering Izuku couldn’t leave. 

His entire body froze at Izuku’s words, the sound dying out so that silence echoed around the two. 

“I don’t think your parents would be happy if they came home to broken dishes,” Izuku added. 

“What are you doing?” asked Katsuki weakly. 

“Helping,” replied Izuku. 

Silence hung over them for a while after. They worked in sync, just like they always had. Even when they didn’t want to. It was the nature of the two of them to read each other perfectly. 

When they finished, they stood beside each other awkwardly, both staring at the counter in front of them instead of at each other. It was easier that way. If they looked at each other, they would have to finally say the words they had been dancing around since the moment Izuku’s feet left that rooftop. 

“I’m sorry,” Katsuki finally broke the silence. 

Izuku turned to him eyes wide, and was surprised to see his former friend’s eyes watering. 

“I never did give you a proper apology, did I, Izuku?” he asked. 

Not Deku. Not useless nerd. Izuku. 

His name always sounded right when Katsuki said it. It had been so long that he had almost forgotten just how beautiful his name could sound. 

“I never needed an apology,” Izuku said. His entire body felt different. More solid, perhaps. Like he was being filled with warmth. “I just wanted to be friends with you. You were my hero, Kacchan.”

Katsuki snorted. “Don’t lie.” 

“I’m not.” Red eyes searched green, desperate for some chance of that being untrue, but all Katsuki found was the determination that had always frightened him about Izuku. “I looked up to you. It was all I could do.”

“I’m a pretty shitty hero then, huh?” Katsuki mumbled. Izuku shrugged. 

“You don’t have to be,” he said. “You could be better. Choose to let people in instead of pushing them away constantly.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Katsuki grumbled. “None of it’s gonna bring you back.”

It felt like a slap in the face. Being reminded that he was dead was surprisingly uncomfortable, and yet there also seemed to be a release inside Izuku that came with the acknowledgement. 

“I can’t take back my choices,” Izuku said. “And there’s no future for me to try and make it right now. You still have time.” Reaching out, he slowly slipped his hand into Katsuki’s. His former friend looked at him with wide eyes, searching for something. He could only hope that Katsuki would find it. 

“Don’t waste that time berating yourself. Be nice to people,” Izuku continued, stepping so close to Katsuki that they were nose to nose, breathing the same air. Only, Izuku couldn’t breathe anymore. What a strange thing. 

“Easier said than done,” Katsuki grunted, staring at Izuku’s lips. Izuku didn’t even register that he was doing the same. 

“You don’t have to keep being the person you were with me at your new school,” Izuku said, reaching up to touch Katsuki’s cheek. His fingers brushed against the soft skin of Katsuki’s cheek, blond hair running through his hand. “At the very least, you owe me that much.”

“I don’t know how I’m gonna live without you,” Katsuki said, so quietly that Izuku almost didn’t catch it. “I feel like my whole life, I turn around and you’re there.” 

Izuku tried to avoid tearing up at the statement. He wanted to go back in time, walk off that roof, and run straight to Katsuki’s house. He wanted to confess the feelings that had been weighing him down since they hit middle school. He wanted to take back the years they had spent hurting each other. 

But he also knew that his earlier advice had been right. There was no turning back the clock. He was gone, and Katsuki needed to accept that. 

“Izuku?” Katsuki asked, voice wavering. 

When Izuku looked down, he saw his entire body shimmering with white light. He felt the warmth from earlier spreading to the rest of his limbs, filling him up like he was being submerged in a warm bath. 

“No, no, no,” Katsuki was muttering. “No, you can’t leave yet! I need you!” 

“You don’t need me,” Izuku said, a calm washing over him. There was no undoing what was done, but for the first time, he actually trusted Katsuki to keep going without him. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

“But-” Katsuki choked, his eyes watering. 

Just before Izuku disappeared, he leaned forward, placing a gentle peck on Katsuki’s lips. It tasted salty with tears, from him or Katsuki he didn’t know, but he didn’t care. His first and last kiss would belong to one person only. 

He opened his eyes with their lips pressed together, green meeting red as all the events that had led up to this moment flashed through his mind. 

And then he was gone. 

*

Katsuki’s parents didn’t know why he was sobbing on the kitchen floor, and he wouldn’t tell them. 

It wasn’t fair. Deku got to go off into the afterlife and do… whatever people did in the afterlife, while Katsuki was stuck living. He wished he was dead, so at least they could both be gone. 

His mother pulled him into a hug, and he tried not to worry about what she would think when, instead of pushing her away like always, he leaned in, wrapping his arms tightly around her and hoping she would at least tether him to life. 

After that day, life seemed to pass quicker. His days sped by, and before he knew it he was graduating high school, ready to go out in the world and apprentice at Mirio’s agency. 

It was a happy life, for the most part. He was a good hero. Not amazing, sure, but good. Competent. That was all he needed to be. 

Some nights, he even liked to pretend he believed that sentiment. 

Kirishima and Kaminari grew more worried about him as the years wore on. By their third year, they seemed to be on alternating shifts, checking in every night with him. Mina wasn’t much better, finding any excuse possible to sit beside him in classes. 

The seat in front of him was occupied by Todoroki, and he tried to ignore how every now and then he could have sworn he saw green instead of red and white when he looked up from his notebooks. 

Mostly, people didn’t question him. They knew something happened to him after Izuku left, something that could never be taken back. Something had changed in the way he held himself, the gleam in his eye a bit more faded. What used to be a relentless spirit to push forward had become a slow trudge through the mundanity of life, trying to get himself from one day to the next. 

But he was fine! That was his response whenever he was asked. He wasn’t a very popular hero, but he was good at his job so his quiet unfriendliness could be overlooked most of the time. 

He tried to live by the last words Izuku said to him. Went to therapy, got his anger under control. Instead of an explosive hothead, now he was just quiet and brooding. That was how the media branded him. The silent mystery hero. 

No matter what, he didn’t visit the grave. It would have been too much. The last time he went there was the funeral, and he had company that time.  

It took him ten years to break that promise. 

It was a day like any other, in mid winter. The cold made Katsuki shiver through his hero suit, trying anything to work up a sweat. He saved two young civilians from a villain attack, sending the guy to jail as he watched the kids run off. They couldn’t have been older than middle school age, and the thought made his heart ache. 

Thoughts of Izuku weren’t a constant in his life anymore. There was too much to be done. Deadlines to meet, quotas to fill. But his old friend flickered in his mind as he watched the kids he saved thank him, and run away hand in hand. 

So, before he could think through his decision too much, he was walking through the city back to his hero agency, stripping his uniform off, and placing a cap over his unruly blond hair, with black sunglasses to hide his eyes. He needed to look like any other civilian if he wanted to go unnoticed. 

To get there, he had to pass by his parent’s house, which also meant passing by the Midoriya house. 

Or, what used to be the Midoriya house. There was a new swingset in the yard out front, lights hung up in the window for the holidays. Inko Midoriya moved out when Katsuki graduated, giving him a tight hug before she climbed into her car and he watched the last of Izuku’s living family drive away.

She couldn’t stay there anymore. He understood. His parents saw him once a year, which had become the standard for their relationship. 

He ducked his head down as he walked past, trying to avoid anything that would draw attention to himself. It wasn’t worth his mother’s lecture, his father’s sad stare. 

The graveyard looked just like he remembered it, but it felt different. Wider, emptier without the presence of someone at his side. He paused at the gates of it, considering a retreat back to his apartment. He could pretend he never decided to come, read a book and turn in for the night. Go to work the next day like nothing had happened. 

But his feet didn’t move, and he took a deep breath. He didn’t want to run anymore. 

Izuku’s grave was nice. 

Stone, alabaster, to be specific. It had his name in large, looping letters, and a small image at the bottom right corner. A daisy. 

Katsuki pulled the daisy he bought on the way over out of his pocket, placing it near the small engraving, and sat down in front of the grave. 

“Hey, Izuku,” he said, glancing around quickly to make sure nobody was listening. When he saw that there was no one else nearby, he continued. “I just wanted to say hi. I guess. I’m not actually sure why I came here, or why I’m pretending to talk to you when you’re dead. This has all been kind of an impulse decision, but my therapist told me following impulse decisions could help me figure out my emotions, so here I am, I guess.

“I still sort of hate you for dying on me. I mean, I’m all alone now and you get to relax and not worry about anything because you’re dead. How lucky is that. Not that it’s lucky you’re dead, just… ugh. This is why I didn’t want to come here. 

“I have friends, you know. Lots of them. I don’t really know what to do about that. I mean, I didn’t ask for them, they just showed up regardless of if I wanted them or not. Shitty Hair is my favourite, but don’t tell him that. His wedding is next month, actually, to Pinky. They’ve been going out since high school, so it’s insane that they waited this long to get married, right? I mean, not that you would know. You only saw them for a minute. 

“I still don’t know if that was actually you, or just some weird fever-dream hallucination. My therapist thinks it was a hallucination brought on by PTSD and guilt, but I don’t believe her. Not really. You were too real, too much like you. You’re different in my dreams compared to how you acted then. It sucks. 

“I wonder about what you would have been like, sometimes. If you would have been different from how you were. Of course you would be different now if you survived. Everybody changes as they grow, it’s just life. But that’s not what I mean. You know what I mean, right? You always did. I used to hate that about you. It was the most annoying thing in the world. I would wish you’d just shut up and stop knowing what I was thinking before I thought it. 

“It’s lonely. It’s so lonely, Izuku. They all know me, but they don’t get me, not like… not like you. God, I sound pathetic. At least you can’t tell anyone about this. 

“This sucks. You should be telling me off for being stupid right now, not stuck there like some stupid stone. Tell me how idiotic I’m being. Tell me how stupid I am, how wrong I am, how much you admire me. Call me Kacchan again. Nobody calls me that anymore. Life is so simple and quiet without you. I hate it. I can’t stand it. You were there and then you weren’t and nothing is the same anymore and it sucks. It’s not… it’s not worth it without you. None of it is. Would you feel like this if I was the one who died? I wish I was the one who died. 

“I’m sorry. I wish I could take it back. Mostly I just wish you were here. I wish you were with me.” 

Katsuki wasn’t sure when he started crying, but he was, the tears dripping down onto his shirt and leaving dark stains behind them. 

He wiped them away slowly, and rose to his feet, brushing a hand over the top of the grave. 

A lifetime was a quick thing to pass by, and Katsuki let it pass him by as quickly as possible. The older he got, the riskier he made his missions, much to the protest of his friends. He had flings, short relationships, but nothing serious. Eventually, the protests slowed to a stop as his friends gave up, the media documented his spiral, and he let himself follow his impulses. 

He visited Izuku’s grave once a year until his death. 

It was a quiet thing, surprisingly. Old, and hospitalised, and surrounded by his friends. Passing in his sleep. It was lucky, they said. All Katsuki could remember was closing his eyes. 

When he opened them again, he was standing beside his body, watching his friends cry quietly. He felt lighter, years of arthritis and fatigue gone in a second as he stared at his hands. The door to his hospital room no longer led out to the hospital, but glowed a soft white, urging him towards it. 

He let himself take one last look back, at his friends and family, and smile. Then, he walked through the door. 

Even though he knew who would be waiting for him, it was still a surprise. All the years, and he hadn’t changed. When Katsuki looked down at his body, he saw that he was in his old gakuran, his body that of his thirteen year old self. 

He walked forwards, taking the outstretched hand that was waiting for him. 

“It’s been a long time,” he said. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, Kacchan.”