Work Text:
i.
Bakugou Katsuki is a collection of things, to say the least. A temper so infamous that it would make a behavioral therapist very wealthy the day he would admit that he has an infamous temper. Vocabulary so foul, it would probably put the thesaurus to shame if they could ever go head-to-head. He’s atrociously emotionally constipated that his friends believe that there is a permanent three-month backlog on processing any sort of emotions he experiences. Katsuki was many things, but he was not stupid. Or so he thought.
Sure, he might not be able to process his emotions on the same timeline as a functional human being, but he was self-aware. Enough to admit that he had completely underestimated how low society’s beauty standards for men are, and no matter how far Japan chooses to advance, there would always be some deranged sicko that finds Kaminari Denki, attractive.
The bet started with Katsuki making some off-hand comments about the extra’s new hairdo. No one with sense would ever dye their hair an obnoxious bee yellow, and think “Wow, you know what would look great with this? A lightning bolt.” After telling him he looked like an off-brand Pikachu or the ensemble cast for the Bee movie, he taunted Kaminari that he could never land a date with that hair. Lo and behold, Tweedy bird proved him wrong.
That is how his group of, friends, found themselves all seated at some tattoo parlor shop after their shift. Katsuki has noticed the shop from the outside a handful of time when he walked home after his shifts but has never made the effort to go inside.
“Aww, is Bakugou scared? It’s okay Katsuki,” Kaminari coos teasingly as if he was coddling a child receiving shots for the first time, “It’ll be all over soon. Here, I’ll even volunteer to hold your hand!” The smartass outstretched his hand, only to earn the extra an affirming thwack on the back of his head. “If you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll put laxatives in your date’s drink next time and you can bid adieu to your dreams of getting laid.”
“Guys, please don’t embarrass me. It took me an arm and a leg for us to get an appointment here and we’re just lucky Mina knows the owner,” Kirishima nearly begs, pushing the door open to the parlor.
“Dude, why does it smell like that,” Kaminari whines as he childishly sticks his tongue out. It baffles him how some of his favorite places could smell so…sterile.
“Shut it, Pikachu. If it didn’t smell like this, I would be convinced that I’d contract some novel disease from here,” Bakugou effortlessly shoots back.
“Well, if the shop closes down for health code violations, maybe my artists can get the vacation they all need,” a voice from behind the counter swiftly replies. Turning around to face him, Katsuki was met, for the first time in years, with the same pair of viridian eyes that has haunted him since the day he lit that cursed sketchbook on fire.
Deku.
Katsuki internally groaned because the only thing that flared up in his mind right now is that Deku got hot. Hell would freeze over before he would openly admit that the undercut Deku’s sporting, along with all the geometric lines that are dancing on his forearms, are doing unsaintly things to him.
“Long time no see Kacchan,” Deku greets him, with the timeless soft smiles that he had the privilege of seeing during their youth. Now, seeing it just gives him this congested feeling inside his heart – regret, probably.
“K-k-Ka what?” Bakugou could hear the gears that were physically turning inside his friends heads.
“Cap it, Psyduck. We’re just knew each other back during our middle school days. Long time no see useless nerd,” Katsuki practically growled back. He wouldn’t lie, there was an air of unwavering confidence that surrounded Deku, and the new and improved sent Katsuki to the edge.
Deku welcomes him to the back room where the piercing would take place. The tattoo chair glistening with what he assumed was antiseptic. Deku took a seat in the char next to him, rearranging the tools that were going to be used to conduct the piercing. He watched as Deku pulled something out from one of the drawers, and good lord, were those glasses?
To whichever god, deity, or supernatural being that has been given the displeasure of watching over him, they were exacting their revenge right now. Because Deku, useless, nerdy, scrawny Deku was now wearing these black circle frames, and Katsuki suddenly found it difficult to articulate his thoughts.
Ha, as if one hot man could silence him.
“Alright Kacchan,” Deku starts, the childhood name smoothly rolling off his tongue as if it was second nature. “Tongue piercings are usually pretty low in terms of pain, but it will just feel like getting a shot. Once I get started, I rather not stop so just let me know when you’re ready,” Deku preps him, obvious to the both of them that Deku has probably performed a hundred of these with how natural it comes to him.
“Deku, those pretty frames of yours not working or sum’? This isn’t my first piercing nerd,” Katsuki cocks backs him, wearing the slight smirk that Izuku had not known he had developed. Kacchan had a plethora of silver chains and studs adorning both of his ears, as well as one on the top of his brow. “Of course, not Kacchan.”
Scooting the chair closer, Deku got to work. Up close, Katsuki was able to get a more detailed look at the new and improved Deku. On his left arm, the geometric lines that danced from the beginning of his wrists upwards his elbow were hypnotizing. In contrast, his right forearm was completely bare and all Katsuki could see was a tattoo that resemble flames that had escape the tight t-shirt sleeve. As Deku was inserting the titanium barbell, he gently lifted Katsuki’s chin and tilted his head in multiple directions to inspect his work. It was over in no less than 15 minutes, which pleasantly surprised Katsuki. “Fast with it huh nerd?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah it becomes muscle memory after your hundredth time or so. But, the first time that I had performed one, I was so hesitant with the needle, and I knew, that I should have not been that my client started to winces and I felt so bad. Oh my god, I for sure thought I was going to get fired that day but luckily…” Deku was on his way to start one of his incessant mumbling but caught himself, “Sorry Kacchan, bad habit.”
Somethings never really change, huh. You can put the nerd in a gym, give him some muscles, tattoos, and a shirt too tight for his own good but you could never take the nerd away.
“It’s fine Deku. Now tell me what I gotta do so I don’t lose my tongue.”
After Deku had finish reviewing the healing process, which would take 4-8 weeks, he adamantly reminded Katsuki that he has to avoid spicy food or else it would be painful for the both of them. “I heard it already nerd, quit nagging, going to start sound like my old hag.”
Katsuki pushed himself down from the tattoo chair with Deku walking next to him, “Set up an appointment with the receptionist for 4 weeks from now so I can make sure you don’t lose your tongue. Remember,”
“No spicy food,” they both said in unison, which prompted the corners of Katsuki’s lips to turn upwards. “Alright, I’ll see you in four weeks nerd,” he says as he opens the door, his friends chiming thank yous and see you later to the staff.
ii.
Katsuki was swearing up and down his life as he opened the door to the waiting room of the tattoo parlor. God, he’s gone nearly twenty-five with only touching instant ramen a handful of times, and the one time that he ate it, has resulted in excruciating swelling of his tongue. So, here he was, a week earlier than his appointment and waiting for the next artist available.
“Hey, my appointment is next week, but my tongue piercing is swelling up –,” at the corner of his vision, he saw the familiar mop of green hair swivel in his direction.
“Kacchan why are you, what,” Deku stood up, apologized to his client, and signaled for one of his assistants to continue the work, walked briskly over to Katsuki, and gently titled Katsuki’s chin in order to get a better look. Sighing with annoyance, Deku commanded him to go wait in the back room and he’d be right there.
A few moments later, Deku walks in with a cup of eyes, his eyes narrowing at Katsuki accusingly. “What did I say about spicy food, Kacchan.”
Since when did Deku get authoritative? Did he get the gall after middle school? But Katsuki was in too much pain right now to ponder. It was a good thing that he wasn’t impulsive because he’s arrived at the point where he’s seriously considering ripping the piecing out.
“How you know I ate something spicy, huh? What if I just got into a fight and now my tongue is swollen?”
Deku scrunches up and his eyebrows furrowed together, “Firstly, I’ve been doing this too long for you to lie to me. Secondly, if you were fighting anyone with your tongue, I’m just going to pretend this conversation never happened,” Deku dismissed.
“Being self-aware is a virtue, Deku. It’s fine to admit that I would pull more than you.” Deku tossed him an ice cube, “Kacchan, you might have nice ashy blonde hair and the intimidating factor, but let’s be honest – unless that person likes curse words raining onto them, I think it’s a safe bet that I could sweep more people off their feet.”
Katsuki mumbled unintelligibly under his breath, but it seems like Deku figured it out anyways from the way he was softly laughing. He knew that Deku was not entirely wrong, but it wasn’t as if Katsuki could not control his mouth. He can very much so, he just hasn’t met anyone that has been worth his time in the long run so he’s perfectly content with scaring off the losers that think they could pin him down.
“Alright, I think the ice helped reduce most of the swelling. There are no skin lesions that I can see on the surface of your tongue but avoid anything hot or scalding please.” Deku lectured him sternly.
“Yeah, no worries nerd,” he was about to get up when Deku turned around with pressed lips, and Katsuki can already feel the onslaught of questions that the nerd wanted to ask him. “Spit it out, useless Deku,” he grunted.
“One of my artists has won an international competition recently, and I want to do something for her. Kirishima and Mina mentioned that you’re the manager at that really nice bar down the street, so I was wondering if it would be possible for us to host something,” Deku let out in one breath.
Katsuki stared at him, blinked a few times before realizing that Deku just wanted a reservation at the restaurant. “Breathe nerd, I’m not gonna knock the wind out of you. This isn’t middle school,” he automatically responded. Katsuki retracted from his words as quickly as Deku did, watching as a wave of hurt quickly wash over his face.
God, he really needs to learn how to shut his mouth sometimes.
It’s never a grand time when your middle school bully reminds you, that he has on multiple occasions knocked the literal wind out of you. Especially if you guys had spent every summer before middle school as best friends
“Sorry, didn’t mean for it to come out like that. Here,” he rummaged around his pants to grab his phone and handed to Deku, “give me your number and I’ll let you know when’s a good time to come by.”
Katsuki was out the door a split second after Deku had entered his number, never meeting his eyes.
iii.
If you had asked Izuku, yes he had a real name that wasn’t Deku, what went through his mind when he saw Kacchan’s appointment, he could probably give no straight answer. Years of questions, excitement, anger, and hurt had all simultaneously bubbled up and lurching in his stomach.
He smiles to himself as he reminisces his childhood. He’s not delusional to ignore the fact that their relationship turned sour in middle school, but before the nightmare that was middle school, Katsuki was the main character that made Izuku’s childhood magical. They spent countless days at the park, in the woods as superheroes, building pillow forts and tricking their moms into thinking they’re asleep. He’s not exactly sure why their relationship took a turn for the worst. Maybe it was because Kacchan had broken out of his shell by middle school and Izuku, who was always hunched over with his sketchbooks, clung onto Katsuki. That drove the other mad, causing him to push Izuku away. Almost overnight, the friendship that Izuku vowed to cherish, was thrown away, seemingly impossible to recover.
He had not known how Kacchan would react upon seeing him after nearly a decade, and Deku knew that he wasn’t the same as he was in middle school. Izuku has found that spending a certain number of hours at the gym every week really helped him manage his stress with upcoming projects in high school, showcases in college, and competitions when he started professionally. Consequently, he had developed a body that was admirable, combining that with learning how to tame the mane he had for hair, and the tattoos had boosted his morale. He held his breath during the beginning of their encounter, mentally preparing for Kacchan to leave in a fury, after delivering some verbal ammunition of course.
Izuku was surprised and glad, that none of that happened. Instead, to him, falling back into the rhythm of playful banter, jabs, and nagging at Kacchan was so natural, it left him breathless. He suspected it was probably because Kacchan learned how to bite his tongue with age, just as Izuku had learned to secure boundaries along the way.
A part of him wishes that he could get to know Kacchan again. Want to know how Kacchan was doing, what was high school like, what made him pursue all those piercings, and just…he just wanted some semblance of what they had growing up. Staring at his sketchbook dejectedly, he knew that it was just wishful thinking.
The vibration of his phone jerked Izuku out of his nostalgic episode, squinting at the screen an unknown number popped up.
Unknown: hey nerd, bar’s slowing down so come by before 2 and we can discuss. bring some of their work, would help us with the menu.
Oh!
How could he forget, he promised Kacchan to go over the detail of Aeri’s party. He grabbed his iPad, sketchbooks, and texted Kacchan to let him know that he was heading over.
Katsuki was wiping down the bar and closing out some of the tabs when he saw the mob of broccoli green hair walks in. He motioned for Deku to sit at the bar, and slid him water, “Finishing up a few things, you want anything?”
Deku gave him an understanding smile, “Take your time Kacchan. I’ll take an Old Fashion, please.”
“Tsk, what are you, a 60-year-old man?” Katsuki smirked as he left to take care of Deku’s orders. Had anyone told Katsuki a month ago that he would receive from his runt-to-hunk childhood best friend and is now even making his drink, Katsuki would personally toss them out of his bar. Yet, here he was, reaching for top-shelf bourbon as he was making the old fashion.
Katsuki cannot believe that he’s here right now, with Deku just…here. If he was quite honest, he had no idea what to do with the entire situation at hand.
Katsuki had his reason for bullying and pushing Deku away, albeit a horrible reason, he still had one. He had grown up basking in the glory and limelight that his parents, peers, and teachers enabled. Deku being the prime enabler with all of his “Wow, Kacchan is so amazing,” and “Of course, Kacchan can do it, Kacchan’s the best!” While his intimidating exterior had driven away most of their classmates, Deku was always the one that stuck around. No matter how irrational he got, how aggressive his words were, Deku was always there, sketchbooks and pens in hand, crescent moon eyes when he smiles, and constellations made up freckles – he never left. Or at least that’s what Katsuki thought until he overheard his mom and Auntie talking about how Deku was receiving offers from specialized art schools from all over the nation.
“Wow, that’s so good for the little brat,” he heard the old hag gasps.
Auntie Inoko followed excitedly, “Yes, he’s getting offers from all over the country. Tokyo, Yokohama, Osaka, and maybe even abroad!”
He won’t know why until much later, but at that moment, Katsuki felt as everything was blaring red. The tightening of his chest wouldn’t stop, his breath trying to claw its way out of his throat, and the full-body shivers that he was experiencing were enough for him to hole himself up in his room.
The realization came barreling at him over the next few nights. In the eerie stillness of his childhood bedroom, Bakugou Katsuki realized that he needed Deku here. Needed Deku to cheer him on with the sketchbooks that he would leave everywhere, hands coated in ink, eyes that turned into the moon when he smiled, and the freckles that could rival all the stars in the damn universe.
And that was weak.
“Kacchan, is something wrong?” Deku had asked watching Katsuki stomping into his room.
“Get the hell out, Deku,” he growls, eyes trained on the floor.
“W-w- What?”
Katsuki lunges at him, grabbing the greenette by the collar of his t-shirt, “You think you’re so talented, huh stupid Deku. You think that all of your drawing will let you leave this forsaken town? You wanna leave that bad, huh? Get the hell out of my room Deku. If I ever see you again, I’m setting every single one of your sketchbooks on fire.”
“K-k-Kacchan please,” Deku begs, tears brimming his eyes.
“OUT. NOW,” Katsuki screams.
The rest of middle school passed with Katsuki sending Deku death glares, criticizing and insulting every sketch or presentation that Deku ever had. He even went as far as throwing one of them into the river when he caught Deku walking the same path home as him one day. After that, Deku never walked the same path home again and Katsuki was sure that their paths would never cross ever again.
iv.
Katsuki had Izuku sit down at the bar so it would be easier for him to clean up and hear Izuku’s ideas out at the same time. He gave Deku the manager run down of how private parties work, the quantity of drinks supplies, the maximum occupancy, additional vendors if Izuku wanted to inquire with them, and all of the rates.
“Wow Kacchan, you sure have everything down to the T,” Deku awes as he looks over the paperwork.
“What’d you expect nerd. When we host events, I always make sure it’s the best in town, so don’t even dare think that I’d skimp on anything.”
Especially not you, not after what I’ve done to you.
“This is great Kacchan! I’ve been wracking my brain for a way to show my appreciation for my artists, and this is a godsend,” Deku smiles. He pulls a sketchbook out of his backpack and flips through of the pages. Leaning across the bar and onto the same side as Katsuki, Deku started explaining some of his artists’ best works and how he wanted to incorporate them into the drinks menu, and maybe even decorations. Katsuki only heard parts of it, as he was trying his best to keep his head from exploding at their proximity.
God, what is he, a teenager with insatiable hormones?
“…and Aeri-chan’s most famous works revolve around organic still life such as flowers, so I was considering contacting a florist to recreate some of her famous bouquets. What do you think Kacchan,” Deku asks, as he peers at Katsuki through his glasses.
From this angle, where Katsuki was a bit taller, he could see the heavy-set lashes and how those emerald eyes shone through under the bar’s dim lights. Those freckles, God can’t save him now, those freckles, scattered all across his nose and cheeks, Izuku was exhilarating beautiful.
“Kacchan?”
“Yeah, Pikachu knows a girl who makes some kickass bouquets, so I’ll have him reach out to her,” Katsuki says lowly, pretending to be looking at the bouquets sketches.
Deku gave him one of those blinding smiles that were brimmed with excitement again and Katsuki would never admit it out loud, but he was a goner.
That was their routine for the next few weeks, Deku would come over when it was nearing closing time, they’d go over some details for the party but would mostly derail and Deku would fill him in on his day, as Katsuki would grunt and make whimsical comments. Sometimes, they’d walk to the station together, or there was even a handful of times that they would grab some late-night food together.
Between convenience store rice balls, ramen stalls, and Takoyaki carts, Katsuki has learned quite a bit about Deku. He left for a specialized art high school in Tokyo after middle school graduation and went into college with the intention of architecture or interior design. However, Deku started to realize that the creative outlet that those fields offered were just not enough to keep up with the countless sketchbooks that Deku has blown through. So, he walked into every tattoo shop he came across until someone took him as an apprentice, and the rest was history.
Deku told him that he loved tattoos because they allowed him to create something that made people feel better themselves or help them memorialize something that meant the world to them. His favorite pieces are superheroes because that’s what he grew up drawing. Katsuki understood what was unsaid, being able to tattoo people with the same characters that kids used to tease him about also empowered Deku.
Katsuki jokingly asked when they were going to throw a party in honor of Deku’s prizes and accomplishment, and Deku humbly admits that he’s won every international and national title possible, so he’s decided to retire.
“It’s no big deal,” he starts off stuttering, “I just prefer to spend the rest of my days designing, maintaining the shop, and taking on a few clients here and there,” Deku blushes as he traces his fingers on the rim of his whiskey cup.
“Besides, now I have more free time to spend on more important things,” Deku glows as he smiles at Katsuki, who met him with a scowl and some mumbling about how Deku only interferes with his work.
In exchange, Katsuki has given away bits and pieces of what he’s been up to since they graduated middle school. It wasn’t anything too special, he went to culinary school, decided to pick up bartending, and is now the manager for one of the most sought-after venues in the district. But of course, leave it to Deku to listen as if Katsuki’s voice is the only thing he’s tuned himself to hear whenever Katsuki tells him about a drink he’s working on or a new recipe that he suggested for the head chef.
“He also volunteers at the local youth gym to teach self-defense classes,” Kirishima supplies once when Deku was interrogating Katsuki’s on what his workout regime was. At the mention of the classes, Deku’s eyebrows shot up quizzically. “Kacchan, I didn’t peg you as a children person.”
“I’m not,” Katsuki glares back, “But you don’t have to be a children person to want them to not get their faces beaten in,” he replies. This seems to bring out one of those soft smiles in Deku. The ones where you can tell that he’s very proud that he’s unlocked a new side to Katsuki and is probably jotting down these useless facts in that useless brain of his. Smiles that Katsuki thank the heavens he has a second chance to admire again.
v.
“Kirishima, get your ass out, I’m going to get hypothermia out here,” Katsuki’s irritated voice calls out.
“Dude, I’m coming, I’m coming. Y’know you could have just asked me to lock up so you wouldn’t be late for your date,” he exaggeratedly singsongs as he skips down the street.
“For the last time, it’s not a date. We’re just grabbing something to eat as we go over the finalized details for the event this weekend. Deku’s just too much of a martyr to eat during his working hours, so I gotta feed him or else who’s going to pay for the event.”
“Yeah, yeah I’ve heard it all. Just remember to share him, dude, it’s getting boring without him.”
“Heck you on about Sharkboy,” Katsku slows down to give Kirishima a quizzical stare.
“Izuku used to be one of my regulars, I saw him nearly every week. But ever since he’s been hanging out with you, he never comes around anymore,” Kirishima pouts, but quickly replaces it with a smile, clapping Katsuki on the back, “But I guess that’s what love does to people.”
Deku has been Kirishima’s regular? For how long, they never had shifts together because he was the only other person that Katsuki trusted enough to run the bar when he wasn’t there.
Does that mean that Deku knew where was all this time, and was just avoiding him?
His heart felt like it was wrapped in chains and has he picked up his pace towards the tattoo parlor, it only continued to tighten. Katsuki was no fool, he understood exactly what his heart was trying to tell him. The parlor chimes as Katsuki pushes open the door and Katsuki is greeted with Deku’s smile. Deku was rambling about something, but Katsuki couldn’t hear a single thing he was saying over the unpleasant buzz in the back of his skull.
“Oi, Deku.”
That successfully captured the nerd’s full attention, staring at him worriedly with those goddamn viridian eyes, “Yes, Kacchan?”
“How long have you been Kirishima’s regular,” the world's, caught on his throat, on the guilt and shame that’s coursing through his body.
Deku visibility flinches, eyes widening at the realization of what Katsuki meant. He never really had to spell it for Deku, because this was the boy who knew him from the inside out, but he took it for granted, and now they were here.
“Kacchan,” Deku voice picks up, hitched on the tears that were rapidly forming, “I didn’t know – I didn’t know how to – I was just so – I’m so sorry Kacchan I was just –“ his words coming to an end as Katsuki’s palms held his face, wiping away the stray tears gently.
There were so many things that Katsuki wanted to say at this moment. The apology that he’s practiced in the shower, the daydreams of how he could right his wrongs, the admittance that if he was in Izuku’s shoes, he wouldn’t have seen him either. But that would be putting himself in the limelight, and this moment was not about Katsuki – it has never been about Katsuki.
How debilitated must Izuku had felt in order for him to avoid Katsuki for years? For the first time in a long time, he had nothing to say, so he settled with the rawest thing he could muster, “Never apologize Izuku. Never, especially not to me.”
vi.
Katsuki was not sleeping well. The clock that was stationed next to his bed blared 3:37 AM, and Katsuki could not find it in his body to fall asleep. He’s tried counting goats, reading useless articles to tire his eyes out, and even sleeping pills but nothing could stop his mind from replaying the events from earlier.
He bid Deku goodbye soon after and left without much to say, because what could he have possibly said. Dragging his feet into the kitchen, Katsuki switched the lights on and set the kettle on the stove.
He was a menace as a child. How his mother did not absolutely bash his head in when he came clean to her about why him and Deku weren’t friends anymore, was a surprise to the both of them. Katsuki, while on the outside oozes self-confidence and resilience, he was always his harshest critic. He knew that Izuku, ever the saint, had probably already forgiven him. That’s just who Izuku was the person who saw the best in everyone. No matter how many times someone has beaten him to the ground, Deku was someone who got up and outstretch his hand to his rival if they’d fallen too.
It didn’t matter if Izuku had already made up his mind and forgiven him, because Katsuki couldn’t even fathom asking Deku’s for his forgiveness. Katsuki still goes through the motions of everyday life with the knowledge that he undoubtedly destroyed the one person who only wanted to be there for him. Him, and his egotistical, selfish, bratty self could not comprehend that Izuku was the universe’s gift to him. In his fear of being abandoned, he had broke Izuku’s heart, and even when given the chance, he doesn’t know if he could ever redeem himself.
Katsuki has come onto terms that he could probably never forgive himself, even if he dedicates the rest of his life to making it up to Deku. It’s his divine karma that the universe would plop Deku into his life and keep him just out of Katsuki’s reach.
vii.
The week continued to pass, with everyone, including Katsuki and Izuku, preparing for the event from their own respective sidelines. Katsuki oversaw all of the vendors, the different menus, and ensured that the bar was only offering the best that he had to offer. Whereas Izuku was clearing his artists’ schedule, sending out invitations to friends, families, and clients, and keeping his mind off Kacchan.
The party kicked off and went by without any major hiccups, with Izuku entertaining all the guests and wowing over all of the preparations, sparing small glances over Katsuki. Unlike Katsuki, Izuku was a bit better at processing his emotions and understood the moment that the blonde walked through his parlor’s door that he was only going to fall for him all over again.
Kacchan had always been the lighthouse in the midst of the monsoons for Izuku. He was the definition of strength and confidence, and for young, gullible Izuku, that was the most remarkable thing. Even now, decades later, Katsuki was the light source that Izuku would look for as the waters around him raged on and on. He knew that Katsuki needed time, to sort out his feelings, to understand what he wanted, and to forgive himself. He saw the way Kacchan tried his best to make amends through the lunches that he would drop off, ensuring he ate dinner, or listening to him ramble about insatiable clients. He knew that anyone with a spot in Katsuki’s life, had one because he wanted them to. Izuku just hoped that Kacchan knew that Izuku wanted him back in his life too.
The metal door to the rooftop creaked loudly as he opened up, with Kacchan’s broad back to him, arms holding him up as he was leaning back on one of the tables. Izuku walked over hesitantly, settling himself down a few feet away from the brash blonde.
“Needed a breather Kacchan?”
He replied with a nonchalant grunt, but Izuku knew it was because the gears in his head were turning right now. “Everyone’s having a lovely time. I can’t think of a better way to show everyone how immensely proud of them and how grateful I am.”
A moment of irrefutable silence.
“I couldn’t have done it without Kacchan,” Izuku softly says, if Katsuki wasn’t listening so closely, it could have been mistaken for the wind.
“’Zuku, you remember how when we were younger, I’d told you that I was never scared of anything?”
“Of course, Kacchan, you were amazing, nothing could ever make you shake.”
“Yeah, well I was a shitty liar. Because the first time I’ve ever felt like the world was yanked from under my feet was when I overheard Auntie telling the old hag that you were considering school away from home. I had no idea what fear felt like, not until I realized that all of my limbs were shaking, and I had to remind myself to breathe.”
“Oh, Kacchan, why didn’t you – “
“No, because no matter how scared I was of losing you, I should have never acted the way I did. Instead of talking to you or even asking you, like the mature kid I made myself out to be, I pushed you, yelled at you, and broke you. In the most ironic attempt to keep you, I lost you forever. Then you just fucking waltz back into my life with your damn tattoos, sass, and piercings, and all over again that fear encapsulated everything I knew.”
Katsuki has moved to stand directly in front of Izuku at this point, and if Katsuki was anything of a man, then he needed to tell Izuku what he had wanted to say. For this was who he was, he’s a better man now, one that owned up to his mistakes, try to amend his wrongs, and keep the most important people to him in his life.
Gently pressing his forehead against Izuku’s, Katsuki plea, “I’d spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’d let me, Izuku.”
He wanted to wake up to those viridian eyes, have his world glow in an emerald hue, watch Izuku sketch those masterpieces, and count all the freckles he had.
Izuku, mouth agape, reaches out and interlock their fingers, pressing his forehead further into Katsuki’s warmth, “Kacchan, you’ve already made up for everything by just being here,” he rasps out, blinking away the tears.
“You’re a damn saint, you know that?”
Katsuki cradle Izuku’s face in between his palm, gently pressing his lips against the boy of his dreams, as the chilling night air wraps around them. Underneath the city lights and the constellations that could never compete against the one’s splatter on Izuku’s cheeks, Katsuki vowed to never let go of the one who made him a better man, ever again.
Pulling away, Izuku smiles with doe eyes, “You said anything right Kacchan?”
“Anything.”
“Then would it be a bad time to tell you I have 3 sketchbooks of tattoos that I’ve designed for you specifically?”
Under any other circumstances, Katsuki would have called him a freak and told him to shove those books up where the sun doesn’t shine, but it was Izuku, and “Anything for you, stupid Deku.”