Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There is a boy around the block who coughs up flowers and whom Katsuki has known his whole life.

Midoriya Izuku has always been a weed that Katsuki never quite managed to pull up by the root. So he is unfalteringly always within the skirts of Katsuki’s life and no matter how hard he tries he can never, ever rid himself of Izuku or his bloody flowers.

Such is the case, Katsuki finds on one chilly spring morning when he believes he has finally shed Izuku from his shroud.

“Did you know there’s a boy in the Support Department that coughs up flowers,” Ashido asks their group.

Katsuki stills.

“What,” Kirishima asks back, rightfully confused and concerned. “Like— they’re in him?”

“Yeah. They grow in his lungs. He’s a really sickly looking guy, but he fixed up my boots! I hadn’t seen him before, apparently he didn’t make it past the entrance exam last year. Which is strange, he’s awfully brilliant.” Ashido hums before she remembers something and laughs bright and loud. “He’s so cute too! I don’t think a girl has ever talked to him, he was so shy.”

There is a possibility it is not who Katsuki thinks it is, but there is a vivid image eclipsing his mind’s eye. In it there cries a thin boy with cotton eyes as he is held against the wall with a wet book dripping mildew and water onto his shoes and the tousled grass. Katsuki can see his own fist around the boy's collar, tears slipping between the seams of his palm as awful words leave his mouth. The image is every bit of a haunting nightmare as it has ever been. Katsuki begins feeling nauseous as he stares blankly at the notebook in front of him.

“What’s his name,” Kaminari asks.

Sero looks mildly interested with his cheek in hand and Jiro doesn’t seem to care much at all as she scrolls through her phone.

“I forget,” Ashido confesses sheepishly. “I think it was… Midori... Midorino? That sounds right.”

It isn’t. Katsuki feels like burning up.

“Midoriya,” he mutters.

“Huh?”

“Yeah! Midoriya! Do you know him,” Ashido grins happily. She tilts her head and leans her arm onto Kirishima so she can look at Katsuki better. Kirishima gets a stupid look on his face as he quietly holds his breath, eyes wide as he stares at the girl. It is painfully obvious and everyone in the group pulls their lips into a tired line.

Katsuki doesn’t answer her as he stands up. His body fills with adrenaline as he turns.

“Where are you going,” she calls.

He doesn’t reply, he has answers to find.

There are separate entrances for each of the courses as one entrance would not be enough to hold everyone’s shoes. Katsuki all but runs to the west wing, flying down the stairs and nearly toppling several other students over. Class would not start for another fifteen minutes; there was no rush but the pounding of his heart and the nausea in his gut. His pulse seems to pick up as he skips over the last few steps and starts looking at the shoe lockers.

It is easy enough to find the second years, but it is harder to sift through the syllabic order in which they are organized.

He feels childish as he chants in his head.

Akasatanahama— Matsubara— Mameha— Marusawa— Miura— Midoriya.

In plain font, Katsuki reads Midoriya Izuku and his breath fails him. There is nothing but the word horror that can describe what Katsuki feels in that terrible moment.

“Ka…cchan?”

Bones fill his throat as shame douses his body. He turns his head and—

Izuku stands in front of him with his shoes hanging from his needle fingers. He is as small as Katsuki remembers. Perhaps his arms look thinner as do his ankles and feet and neck, but his eyes are still as disproportionately large and animal-like in their wideness. Worst of all, he looks terrified. It is a familiar sight. Katsuki hates that he knows how terrible it is that Izuku looks like that around him. There is something extraordinarily terrible in self reflection, how it is relentless and plagues the conscience with guilt after it begins.

“Deku,” he says quietly with an ease that leaves an unpleasant feeling in his chest. He corrects himself, “I— Izuku.”

The boy flushes, small mouth parting before he coughs and looks away, “De-Deku is fine.”

“It’s not,” Katsuki says, clenching his fists as his chest fills with water. “It isn’t.”

Izuku’s frightfully large eyes shift up to stare directly into Katsuki’s. The air seems stiff between them. Stiff enough that Izuku has to hack into his elbow before he swallows and bends his head forward like he always does in Katsuki’s presence, “Ah… Uhm… My shoes…”

Katsuki immediately steps back to give him a wide breadth. Izuku looks startled by the jerkiness of the movement and clutches the strap of his bag tighter. He expects him to do something cruel and the fact that it was an entirely reasonable expectation makes Katsuki sick. It is an awful feeling that settles into Katsuki’s chest; he feels like throwing up.

“Sorry,” he says for being in his way.

Izuku blinks and is surprised enough to raise his head with questions behind his teeth.

Katsuki cannot answer them yet so he turns swiftly and makes his way back to class before the bell rings.

—

He cannot rest knowing that Izuku walks the same halls as he does. Anxiety crawls through his skin when he sees Izuku and he sees him everywhere. On the train to school, during lunch periods, on the train home. It is exactly how they have spent their whole lives and yet Katsuki feels like he can’t bear it.

They don’t say a word to each other. Izuku sends him passing glances that he hides as soon as Katsuki sends his own. The unspoken tension does not ebb or flow for weeks. It remains wholly stagnant as they orbit each other, never touching. But they are a binary star system— inevitably doomed to collide.

Izuku finds him in the library one day. There are three days until the start of the Sports Festival and six days until the first graded essay of the year is due. He had thought that his teachers last year were hard-asses but the second year teachers are far more unforgiving. Katsuki stood in one of the channels of U.A.’s fishbone library. There are thousands of books and yet Katsuki can’t seem to find the one he’s looking for.

He turns, about to go to one of the computers, when there Izuku is. Standing at the end of the row with the book that Katsuki needs in his smooth hands, Izuku flips through it with a furrow in his brow. The light streaming in from the large windows encapsulates him. It highlights the shape of Izuku’s upturned nose and the long curve of his nape as it slips under his wrinkled collar.

Izuku notices him quickly and looks at him. Katsuki begins to turn away when Izuku says, “Kacchan.”

His voice is faithfully sweet and the catch between the syllables sounds delicate as if he is calling out to a friend. Katsuki sucks teeth and swallows. It does not sound as practiced, but the sounds come out of his mouth and remind him of a time before a river had forked and taken them down different streams.

“Izuku,” he says.

The boy flushes again. Katsuki reckons that he is the only person to call him that other than his mother. Briefly, he wonders if it is his place to call Izuku by his given name. But any other variation seems like it would create a distance between them that Katsuki wouldn’t be able to deal with. Why that is so he cannot tell. Perhaps it is because at the beating heart of it all, Izuku has always been important to him.

Faint footsteps of someone walking some two aisles over grow and fade as they pass. The moment feels long and arduous in silence, but Izuku looks like he doesn’t know what he wants to leave his mouth.

“Are… are you getting things together as well? For Taniguchi-sensei’s project.” His hands twist together around the spine of the book. He is nervous too.

“Yeah,” Katsuki says.

“I see.” Izuku brings the book to his chest and tugs at the yoke of his cardigan tucked under his blazer. He coughs once into the fabric and Katsuki watches the ball of his throat slide up and down under his white skin. “Uhm… What topic did you pick?”

“Apparently the same one as you.” The moment he finishes Katsuki regrets saying it in that way. Izuku flinches and holds the book tighter as his shoulders draw up. A curse is clicked under Katsuki’s breath and he looks away, “Sorry. I— I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

The way Katsuki reacts around Izuku is like relying on reflexes and they belong to a person who he thought he left behind with the days of his gakuran. But Izuku is simply meant to bring out the worst in him.

Izuku gains an interesting look in his eye before he reaches over and slides the book back into its place, “No— It’s ok. Sorry. I’ll leave this here and—”

“You can have it,” Katsuki tries, backing up.

“Oh, no. I read it already so…”

“It’s probably online, I’ll find it.”

“I need another book anyways—”

“You should take it—”

They both stop short and stare at each other. Katsuki sucks in a breath. Izuku laughs softly, a little nervous but mostly amused. He then offers a smile much too genuine for someone like Katsuki, black lashes sealing at the corners.

“You’re different,” he observes, tilting his small face. “You’re a different Kacchan, aren’t you?”

Another strange reaction threatens Katsuki. This time he wants to cry. He doesn’t know what sort of tears they would be so he doesn’t let them surface. Instead, he asks, “What do you mean?”

Izuku doesn’t answer him. He simply takes the book into his hands and approaches Katsuki. When they are but an arm’s length away, he holds it out with both hands. Katsuki hesitates for a moment before he grasps it. Their fingers slip over each other’s and a pesky beating can be felt where they touch.

Katsuki looks down at Izuku, who has always been just under his nose. The other boy’s front teeth don’t quite line up and his bottom ones are also slightly crooked. It is somehow the most beautiful smile Katsuki has seen— maybe because it is Izuku’s. Somewhere under all that Katsuki feels about him, he might have admitted that he always found him beautiful.

“I already read it,” Izuku says. His tone turns somewhat coy as he leaves, “See you, Kacchan. Good luck for the festival.”

He disappears into the cluttered vastness of the library and Katsuki is left standing with a book in his sweaty hands.

—

“Did you know that Izuku is going to U.A.?”

Katsuki watches his mother stop as she washes out a needlessly expensive vase. There is a bouquet of flowers resting on the counter and they are of pristine quality and condition. A card had been attached to it which is now wilting in his fingers as it soaks in his sweat. Neat, careful kanji and hiragana reads:

Thank you for the pears! Inko and Izuku

“I did,” she answers, picking up a towel to dry off the exterior. She fills it up.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” Katsuki asks.

She looks at him and raises her eyebrow testily, “Why would I?”

Over the years, his mother had not been oblivious to Katsuki’s treatment of Izuku. She had dealt him more than a few scoldings and groundings for it but Katsuki had never listened no matter how much she screamed at him. It was surprising how Midoriya Inko had managed to maintain such a close friendship with her despite it all. But he supposed that Bakugou Mitsuki was not one to leave loose ends. She overcompensated the Midoriya family with many gifts for their troubles— fruits, clothes, rugs. It was common for her to make a stop over to their apartment once every week or so to drop things off. It was her way of trying to give them the apology that Katsuki would not.

Katsuki did not open his mouth to answer. He traced the eight strokes it took to write Izuku with his eyes. Mitsuki set the vase on the island and began clipping the stems of the decorative ferns and pastel flowers. She arranged them neatly, waiting for him to speak. When he doesn’t, she looks at him.

“You’re not bullying him again, are you?”

Sometimes he cannot stand his mother because it is painful to look at a mirror with a mind of its own that says everything he is terrified and thinking of out loud. She is more emotionally adept than his father, but she has never been tactful when it came to matters concerning Izuku.

His defense comes out sharp, “I’m not.”

She narrows her eyes at him before picking up a daisy and stabbing it into the water, “Good. You’ve grown up a lot in the past year, Katsuki. Don’t let it go to waste.”

“I know that,” he says, clenching his fist.

She doesn’t say anything as she places the last few flowers into the vase. Mitsuki nods her head to the bar stool, “Sit.”

Katsuki has half the mind to ditch her for his room, but he doesn’t feel like leaving her presence just yet. He sits and watches as she takes two pears out of the fridge. She washes, cuts, and plates them nicely before him.

“You’re a good person, Katsuki,” she tells him.

It is painful to hear that when he knows that he had not been just two years ago. It is also soothing.

He can’t say anything, so he takes a piece of the fruit and bites it. She takes one too and puts her hand over his.

—

On a rainy day, Katsuki stands on the platform waiting for the train to arrive. The sound of wet, chest deep coughing alerts him. He knows that sound well, he’s heard it many times before.

To his left, about two meters away, Izuku braces himself against a column. His hair is damp and his blazer is dark with water. People are looking at him and stepping away, not wanting to catch whatever he has. Katsuki watches his fit go on for a solid minute. He does not make a move until Izuku breathes in and chokes. His cough doubles in intensity and Katsuki sees blood staining his napkin.

Decisive strides take him over to Izuku and he reaches forward, stopping just shy of Izuku’s shoulder. Dropping his hand, he instead says, “Izuku.”

The boy looks up through red, teary eyes. His coughing has calmed down and there are large white petals scrunched in his napkin. He wipes his mouth and offers a weak smile, “Good morning, Kacchan.”

Pursing his lips tightly, he opens his bag and pulls out a water bottle. Izuku looks down at it, then up, and down once more before shaking his head, “I’m fine.”

“Take it,” Katsuki insists.

“Really, it’s ok—”

“Izuku,” he says. Belatedly, he tacks on a quiet, “Please.”

Green, green eyes study him for a moment before Izuku takes it and allows himself a humble sip. He tries to hand it back over but Katsuki stares at him until he blushes and takes a better one. Again, he tries to hand it over but Katsuki puts his hands in his pockets, “Keep it.”

“I’m— I’m not sick,” Izuku says. “It’s just worse when it’s cold.”

“I know,” Katsuki assures.

As if he doesn’t know what to do, Izuku’s jaw works around nothing as words fail to form. He is then afflicted with a violent shiver. Katsuki frowns and reaches into his bag again. He pulls out a towel that he usually has for a shower after training and holds it out. Izuku accepts it with hesitation and awkwardly lifts it to pat at his hair. They stand in silence for a tense moment that has him looking at the ground to avoid Katsuki.

“Thank you,” he says.

Another moment of silence crawls around them. Katsuki is studying him and realizes he has no umbrella. Impulse has Katsuki pulling off his own jacket as he tells Izuku, “Take off your backpack.”

“What?”

“Take off your backpack,” Katsuki repeats. Obedience prevails despite Izuku’s clear nerves. Katsuki takes it from him and then says, “Take off your jacket.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku says testily. It is like a cat arching its back and tail in front of a dog.

“Izuku,” Katsuki says back.

A full red lip gets pulled between Izuku’s crooked teeth and he rather angrily takes off his jacket. He looks like he has something to say until Katsuki throws his jacket over Izuku. Whatever he was choking down gets replaced by a look of surprise and cheeks as pink as a peony. The jacket is expectedly large on Izuku and hangs precariously from his slim shoulders. Izuku has always been very thin.

“Kacchan,” he blinks.

Katsuki simply throws Izuku’s bag over his shoulder and shoves the water bottle inside it. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this. An excuse falls out of his mouth quick enough.

“You’ll get sick.”

Understandably, Izuku is confused but he goes along with it and threads his arms through the jacket and zips it up. It’s rather comical how he looks wearing such a big rain jacket from where his weedy legs stick out under. He almost looks like a cartoon character to Katsuki as he factors in how stupidly chunky his shoes are.

Their train arrives and Katsuki walks on. Izuku yelps behind him, “I-I can take my bag back!”

Katsuki sets one hand on the strap and he uses the other to steady himself. Izuku finds him easily and tries to tug his bag back but it’s a pointless feat.

“Kacchan, this is bullying,” Izuku says with a pout.

Those words bring an icepick into Katsuki’s spine. Izuku immediately seems to notice and goes quiet as the train jerks forward. His hands go for the pole next to Katsuki’s side to steady himself. They stand next to each other uncomfortably in the silence of the train.

Eventually, Izuku begins coughing again. He hides it into his elbow and Katsuki reflexively reaches for him before stopping short once more. Like a viper, Izuku yanks Katsuki’s bag off and he has to mentally check himself before he causes a scene. Regardless, he scowls and grunts, "Oi."

Izuku pulls it onto his shoulder and he smiles up at him and whispers, “I’ll carry yours since you’re carrying mine.”

Katsuki purses his lips and offers a half hearted glare, “You’re a different Izuku, aren’t you?”

His smile grows wider and he squares his shoulders, “I am.”

It’s nice.

The train ride takes the same twenty minutes it usually does and soon enough they’re getting off. Rain is coming down harder than it was at the other station. Izuku opens the jacket and shifts around for a second until the bag is inside it as he zips it up again. He pulls up the hood as Katsuki waits with his umbrella over head, rain thudding against it.

As they walk, Katsuki steps closer to Izuku and shifts the umbrella over so the rain doesn’t get on his face. Izuku looks at him before smiling and looking down at his wet feet with a strangely happy look on his face. The hill which U.A. resides on is always a killer but it takes twice as long to ascend with Izuku who nearly trips multiple times with all the mud. He slips one final time right as they approach the gate and Katsuki saves him by the scruff of his hood.

“Wah!” Izuku steadies himself and checks his shoes. He then laughs a bit and says, “Thanks Kacchan.”

It reminds Katsuki of when they were little and he used to do the same thing on their way back from the playground. He huffs and shifts the umbrella into that hand, “Klutz.”

They come to the steps where they trade bags. Izuku starts pulling the jacket off fully but Katsuki grabs his hand and zips it back up for him. Izuku goes red again and Katsuki immediately pulls his hand away in favor of his pocket. He looks off, “It might be raining later.”

“Oh, but I—”

“You know where I live,” Katsuki says. Before Izuku can argue, he closes his umbrella and steps inside the Hero Course entrance where he puts his umbrella into a plastic bag and sets it in the stand.

When he enters the class, Kaminari looks up at him and says, “You’re later than usual.”

“I had to take care of something,” Katsuki says, pulling off his blazer that was soaked on one side. He threw it over the back of his chair and took a seat.

“Did you forget a jacket,” Tetsutetsu asks.

“No,” Katsuki says plainly. He looks out the door to the window where he can see the sky dark with clouds.

There really is something inevitable about him and Izuku. Perhaps it has always been a love story.

—

Chapter Text

It is Thursday when the rain lets up. One quarter to seven, Katsuki walks through his living room, tired and sore from a particularly intense training session with Yaoyorozu. He lost a lot of water that day and could feel it in his arid throat. Just as he is passing through again with a cup sloshing in his grip, the doorbell rings.

Frowning, he takes the sharp left into the short hall leading to their front door. Katsuki pauses when he sees who is standing on the other side through the slats next to the panel.

“Open the door, Katsuki,” she calls from the kitchen.

“I got it already,” he says back as he rips open the door and squints at Izuku.

“Hi Kacchan,” Izuku says much louder than Katsuki wishes.

“Hey,” Katsuki says back. Behind him, he can hear the scraping of a pan being set onto a different burner.

“Sorry, I hope you don’t mind me dropping by.” Izuku smiles and tugs at the thick yellow cardigan that washes him out. There is a large bouquet of pink and orange snap dragons in his hands, “Uhm, I just wanted to return your jacket.”

He procures the jacket from under his arm, neatly folded. Katsuki takes it and it is warm.

“I wanted to give it to you earlier, but I was in the shop all day,” Izuku laughs nervously and it brightens the darkening sky. “I— uhm…” He blushes and hides his face into the flowers, “These are— I brought these for you. As a thank you.”

Katsuki gently takes the flowers from Izuku’s fragile fingers and notes that they are stunning and fresh. He swallows, “Did you…?

“Yeah,” Izuku nods with a smile both small and proud. “They’ll last a while if you change the water often, I just cut them before I left.”

“Thank you,” Katsuki says. The stalks feel sturdy against his palm.

“Katsuki,” his mother shouts. “Who is it?”

“No one,” he yells back but she is already rounding the corner and gasping in fake surprise, “Izuku! How good to see you! Have you been well? It’s been cold, you should try to stay warm.”

“Hi auntie,” Izuku smiles and bows. “I’m well, how about you?”

“I’m good,” Mitsuki says as she comes to the doorway. She spots the jacket and the flowers and blinks, “Wow, these are beautiful.”

“A-Ah,” Izuku turns pink again and he hides behind his hair. “Thank you…”

Mitsuki takes them with a smile, “I’ll put them in a nice vase. Come in! Have you eaten yet?”

“O-Oh, I, uhm,” Izuku flounders and flutters his spindly hands. “My mom actually just made dinner, I was going to go back after dropping those off.”

“Ok,” Mitsuki says with a soft look. “But wait one second! Let me get something to send you home with— Oh! And Katsuki will walk you home since it’s late!”

“A-Ah— Uhm—!”

“Oi! Don’t just decide things like that,” Katsuki barks.

“Don’t be a brat!”

“He can walk just fine by himself!”

Mitsuki reaches up and pulls him down by his ear, “Look at his face, do you see how sweet it is? Just be a gentleman and walk him home; I’m not sending you off to war! How do you expect to be a hero when you can’t even stand to make sure one person gets home safe! Just do as I say or I’ll run you upside down.”

“You already do,” Katsuki snarls, swatting her hand away as she whacks him in the stomach and disappears into the kitchen. Huffing, he turns back to Izuku who, despite the pinkness of his cheeks, was covering up a laugh by biting his lips together.

“Stop laughing,” Katsuki says, embarrassed and irritated in his embarrassment.

“I’m not laughing,” Izuku says with as best of a straight face as he can. Which is not a very good one as his smile reaches his big eyes and his lips split at the corners where they are not pinned by his teeth.

“You want to,” Katsuki argues.

“No, I don’t,” Izuku assures. A giggle escapes his red lips and he immediately clears his throat before he looks soft and honest, “I just think your relationship with her is cute.”

Katsuki feels his own cheeks betray him. He squares his shoulders and lifts his chin so that Izuku cannot look at his face properly, “It’s not cute. Don’t say dumb shit like that.”

“I’m sorry, Kacchan,” Izuku says and he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“Yai, yai! Speak properly when we have guests,” Mitsuki scolds as she returns with a box in her hands. Katsuki could not avoid the smack to his shoulder even if he tried. She turns to Izuku and looks like the contradictory, perfect picture of a Japanese mother as she smiles and hands over the box, “These are just some wafers I found at the store. I know Inko-chan likes the caramel ones so I picked them up.”

“Thank you,” Izuku says and takes the box with both hands and a polite bow. He then awkwardly shuffles away, “I, uhm, I’ll probably come back soon then. Or my mom. Sorry for coming unannounced.”

“You’re always welcome here, Izuku-kun! Actually, your mom said you were coming,” Mitsuki says and Katsuki whips his head to give her a wild look. She ignores him and because she is unbearable follows with, “If you want, you can just text Katsuki the next time. You have his number, don’t you?”

“I— I don’t, actually,” Izuku says. “Uhm, I don’t know if— I think— I’m not really—”

Katsuki wants to scream. He quickly snatches a hoodie off of the coat hook, shoves his feet into some shoes, and pushes Izuku out of the door way, “Fuck off already, hag. He wants to go home!”

She raises her fist at them as he drags Izuku away by his exceedingly small forearm. Mitsuki calls out, “You brat!”

“Hag!”

Izuku laughs bright enough to spark a fire on Katsuki’s cheeks.

The walk to Izuku’s apartment is shorter than Katsuki remembers, but he supposes the last time he made the trip he was much younger and smaller. The walk is also near silent, the only sounds are their feet treading the concrete and the occasional wandering car or loose cough. Izuku fidgets next to him, looking around at familiar streets and sights he’s seen thousands of times.

They reach the foot of Izuku’s building and they turn to stare at each other. Katsuki can’t quite tell as the lighting is poor and blue, but he thinks Izuku is blushing from the way his white cheek darkens. He has always flustered easily, especially around Katsuki and oddly the fact makes him proud.

“I’ll, uhm, see you on Monday then,” Izuku says, twisting his fingers around his shirt. Katsuki can see his face turn fully pink as he quickly adds on, “Or— not. If that’s what you want.”

Katsuki purses his lips together and rips his phone out of his pocket. He unlocks it and shoves it into Izuku’s chest. Izuku fumbles for a second before he takes it, their fingers brush and Katsuki curses how sweaty he is. After a few glances up and down and an impatient look from Katsuki, Izuku quickly puts in his contact information. He hands it back and Katsuki saves it. He calls Izuku and then hangs up once Izuku’s phone begins ringing.

They stare at each other for a moment more and Katsuki feels his shoulders bunch as he shoves his hands into his jacket. Abruptly, he says, “I get to the station at seven.”

Izuku blinks before his face lights up in understanding and he smiles, “Ok.”

“I don’t like people who are late,” Katsuki adds.

“Ok,” Izuku nods. He bites his lips together again, the top one slips out and the barest hint of teeth can be seen in his muted smile. His eyes are still honest as they sparkle with happiness, big and blue in the lamplight. Izuku straightens a little and he nods again, “Good night, Kacchan.”

“Get inside already,” Katsuki says and his tone is much softer than he intended. Izuku notices— of course he does— and he knocks his knees once together.

“Good night,” he says again before turning away.

Katsuki doesn’t say anything else because all he can think is how Izuku is so beautiful when he is happy.

—

It takes a few tries, but eventually taking the train together quickly becomes a new fixture in Katsuki’s routine. The first few days after he extends his invitation, Izuku does not show but nor does he show to school. But that is relatively normal. On the third day it starts and it does not really stop. Despite how he doesn’t like waiting, he often finds himself lingering around the entrance to the station each time Izuku wakes up late. Sometimes, he even allows himself to catch the next train when Izuku is nowhere in sight until seven fifteen. It is not so bad, he decides, as each time he is rewarded with a glimmering smile.

As Katsuki is a habitual person and all his friends know him as such, they notice the growing sporadicness of his arrival times and the thin boy now always at his side when he passes through the gate. It is over lunch one day when Ashido looks at him expectantly, crossing her arms and raising her brow.

“So you do know Midoriya-kun,” she says when Kaminari and Kirishima finally join their table.

Katsuki stops and then glares at her before going back to eating. She huffs at his reaction before her look turns evil and she leans over to grin in his face, “Don’t you, Kacchan?”

Kaminari spits out his drink and Sero is just quick enough to use his tray to block both him and Jirou from the spray. Kirishima, unfortunately, gets soaked in blue dyed energy drink.

“Awh, dude, sick,” Kirishima says.

“Not cool,” Jirou says, looking at their spit splattered food.

“Sorry!” Kaminari wipes his mouth and stares wildly between Ashido and Katsuki, “I just— huh?! What did you call him?”

“Kacchan,” Ashido says haughtily with a smug grin. “It’s such a cute nickname that I happened to learn.”

Katsuki feels his face warm. He scoffs and pushes his food away, “Don’t fucking call me that.”

“You don’t seem to have any complaints about Midoriya-kun calling you that,” she says and he has fallen into her trap. Her grin appears more sinister to him as it widens and she says, “But I guess coming from him, it would be more of a love name, wouldn’t it?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Kaminari says. “Midoriya-kun? Who is Midoriya? And what do you mean by a love name?! Are you— Are you saying Bakugou has a girlfriend?!”

The cafeteria suddenly turns a lot quieter and Katsuki hates these idiots.

“I do not,” Katsuki says loudly, popping a few intimidating sparks as he glares around. The rest of the student body turns away but he knows their ears are focused on them now.

“Boyfriend,” Ashido corrects belatedly.

“Midoriya,” Jirou says, tasting the syllables as she throws some napkins onto the table. “That’s the guy you freaked out over like a month ago, right?”

“It sure is,” Ashido hums.

He scoffs, “I didn’t freak out.”

“You did,” Ashido says.

“You ran,” Jirou adds.

He hates them. Katsuki scowls and glares, “Shut the fuck up.”

“It’s no worries, I heard it all from Midoriya-kun himself. They’re childhood friends, apparently,” Ashido says. “They’ve known each other their whole lives. It’s a case of fate, really.”

Katsuki intensified his glare, “Stop prying into my business.”

“It’s a natural curiosity,” she argues. “Of course I want to know about the person my friend is in love with.”

“I’m not fucking in love with Izuku, you crazy bitch,” he spits vehemently. He stands up with just as much fury and storms away with red hot cheeks that give everything away.

—

It is exactly two weeks before final exams, Wednesday, and Katsuki is still yet alone at the train station at seven-fifty. He already shot off a couple texts to Izuku, none of which were answered, and he cannot wait much longer. It comes to the point where he is stepping onto the train by himself for the first time in weeks and he scans the crowd outside the window for anything familiar but the people are nothing but a sea to him.

He spends the whole day waiting for Izuku to answer him. Checking his phone between every class, he only sees a few notifications from his classmates or his social media. There is complete radio silence until Katsuki checks his phone one last time in the locker room.

Sender: Midoriya Izuku

- Hi Kacchan! Sorry I didn’t answer earlier, I wasn’t feeling good so I stayed home today. I hope I didn’t make you late!

Katsuki stares at his phone and feels like a complete fool. The amount of times Izuku has been absent in his schooling career was beyond countless, there really was nothing new to it. He lets the towel fall from his head to his shoulders as he types.

Sender: Kacchan

- I wasn’t. Are you coming to school tomorrow?

Sender: Midoriya Izuku

- Probably not tomorrow, maybe the day after. We’ll see!

The disappointment Katsuki feels when he reads his screen is definitely new, he realizes. He sends another affirmative text and closes his phone to stare at his own reflection on the black screen. There is a somewhat disgruntled feeling as he takes in how pitiful he is before tossing his phone back into his bag and pulling his dress shirt out.

He has always been fine without Izuku, there is no need to not be now.

—

Katsuki finds himself standing in front of an apartment door some time past eight. A reusable bag hangs from his hand as he lingers there. A few minutes pass before he finds the courage to lift his fist and knock on the door. A moment passes before he can hear some shuffling and the switching of a lock and Midoriya Inko opens the door.

“Oh! Katsuki-kun,” she breathes.

She is not very different from the last time he saw her. Inko is still small and stout with eyes as big as her son’s and fittingly tear drop shaped as well. She is a little more frumpy than his mother, her clothes are worn and faded, but it makes her as soft to look at as she has ever been. An awkward smile finds its way onto her round face and she fiddles with the door handle.

“Hello, Aun—” He bites his tongue and looks to the side. “Midoriya-san.”

She laughs at him. He withdraws into the muscles of his shoulders to try and hide his ears. His lips screw together tightly and he bows awkwardly to match.

“Suwah,” she huffs, pressing her smile against the back of her hand. “There’s no need to be so formal, Katsuki-kun. We’ve known each other for a long time already.”

He nods and finds the courage to look her in the eye. Katsuki does not know what to expect, he wonders if she even knows how horrible he used to be. Swallowing down his nerves and growing shame, he asks, “Is Izuku awake?”

“Izuku,” she parrots, staring up with her big watery face. Water had always flowed very strongly in their family. Inko then smiles at him and opens the door wide, “He is. Do you want to see him?”

“Please,” he says. He does not speak formally very often, but he feels like he wants her more than anyone to know that he has changed.

She invites him inside and he asks her to pardon his intrusion. Inko leads him through their house, the lived in clutter bleeding at the walls is warm and homely. There are also plants everywhere. In pots, in vases, hanging from the ceiling and taking up the window. It is bright and lively and a little different from what Katsuki remembers.

Inko goes to the kitchen, “Do you want anything?”

“No, thank you,” he says. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a box of strawberries his mother found at the market. Placing it on the counter, he says,

“From my mom.”

“Thank you,” Inko says.

Katsuki takes out a folder and places the bag on the counter. He looks across to a particular bright flash of orange on the other side of the balcony window.

The flowers are tall and proud. His voice comes out stilted as he says, “Soup. For Izuku.”

“Oh,” she says in such a way that Katsuki thinks she has read into his very mind. When he takes a glance back at her, her eyes are wet and she is smiling.

He quickly nods and turns to find Izuku who he can bear with more.

The little name frame hanging off the door is the same, though All Might’s colors are more faded and the string looks brittle. He knocks on the door and a wet cough can be made out before Izuku answers with a hoarse voice.

Pushing the door open, Katsuki peeks inside.

The room is expectedly nerdy, posters and figurines and books lining a wall. Even the All Might sheets are not so surprising to Katsuki who has known Izuku for his whole life. Though, Izuku is unexpectedly sad to look at.

His skin is both too pale and too flushed and he is drowning in a jacket that catches and hangs from his shoulders. There is a fever patch that looks to be slowly slipping from Izuku’s forehead and his nose and lips are red, red, red. Izuku coughs abruptly when he realizes who his guest is and stumbles out of bed.

“Kacchan!”

He wobbles, brittle legs buckling. Katsuki reaches out and catches him just as Izuku makes the effort to steady himself on the bed. Izuku looks up at him with newly ruddy cheeks. Scoffing, Katsuki gently helps him sit down.

“Fucking idiot, don’t get up so fast,” he scolds.

“What— What are you doing here,” Izuku asks. His voice is worn and raspy. He self consciously smoothes out his wrinkled pajama pants and reaches up to fix his hair though he looks like a mess either way.

Katsuki helps to smooth out a stray curl. Izuku stops. As if he has been burned, Katsuki yanks his hand back and shoves it into his pocket as he clears his throat. His movement is jerky as he thrusts a folder into Izuku’s face. Izuku hesitantly takes the folder and opens it. He gasps and grins:

“Kacchan!”

“Don’t sound so fucking happy, it’s homework,” Katsuki scolds, stepping back. “It’s for today and tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Izuku says sweetly, hugging the folder to his chest. The look he gives Katsuki is far too sincere and soft.

Katsuki grumbles, not really knowing what to say. He looks around the room again and stops when he sees a plastic bucket almost overflowing with what looks like a bloody mix of digestive fluids and flowers. Izuku quickly notices and flushes in embarrassment. He moves a small socked foot to push the bucket more out of sight and he coughs a bit, it is wet and rattling.

“Sorry, that’s really gross,” Izuku mumbles.

“It’s not,” Katsuki lies. It is pretty disgusting to look at the mix of Izuku’s stomach contents and the slowly wilting flowers. Now that he notices, there is an underlying acrid smell in the room. He frowns regardless, “Are… you ok?”

“Of course,” Izuku says. He nudges his bony ankles together, “It’s just, you know, one of those days. I’ve definitely had worse bouts. I was using my quirk more than I should have. Looking back I should have just been patient, the flowers would have bloomed either way.”

Katsuki’s brain started to mull. He furrowed his brows, “Do you always get sicker when you use your quirk?”

“Not necessarily,” Izuku says. “Anytime I use my quirk it also triggers the growth of the ones in my lungs. It’s usually not so bad unless I really am pushing myself. The better the bloom, the worse I feel, so to speak. But it’s usually not so bad.”

“Those flowers you gave me, were you sick after because of them,” Katsuki asks.

Izuku flushes a bit and his face is so honest it makes Katsuki a little sick. He laughs awkwardly and chokes. Hacking into his elbow, he reached for a tissue and quickly spit out a wad of roots. Taking a deep breath, he then looked a bit guilty, “I mean, only a little. I’m much worse off this time, promise. After winning the festival again, I just thought you deserved the best thing I could give you…”

Katsuki feels his heart sing and his stomach twist into knots. Pursing his lips together, he debates for a moment before saying, “Thanks.”

“Of course—”

“But don’t ever give me flowers like those again,” he adds.

Izuku visibly dampens and his face twists into something that Katsuki cannot read. He grips his pant legs into the tight clench of his fist. His voice is unbearably quiet as he says, “Ok.”

Katsuki thinks he might have said something wrong because Izuku’s eyes begin to well with tears. He doesn’t know what to do.

“Izuku—”

“Thanks for coming over, Kacchan. I really appreciate it,” Izuku says. He starts corralling Katsuki out of his room.

“Hey—”

“I’ll see you at school later,” Izuku assures and then he closes the door in Katsuki’s face. The name frame sways from side to side, scraping lightly against the white paint.

Katsuki doesn’t know what to do.

He grits his teeth and turns around swiftly, angry at himself for saying something wrong and annoyed with Izuku for being so hard to understand.

“Are you leaving already,” Inko asks, following him to the door.

He stops just shy of the doormat and turns to her. Pursing his lips, he casts his gaze to the ground and nods, “Yeah.”

“Ah…” Inko says. They stay like that for a little before she walks toward him and opens the door. She looks like she does not know what to say and neither does Katsuki.

“Sorry,” he tells her, because he cannot think of any other thing to say that he means.

She gives him a pitying look before she reaches forward and pats his elbow, “Katsuki-kun, you’ve grown into a good person. Don’t mind Izuku. He’s always looked up to you, now it’s a little harder for him because now more than ever you mean a lot to him. He’s always just wanted to be your equal, you know.”

He must look like a ghost to her, staring with such a surprised and open face in the dead of night. She smiles again, “He’ll bounce out of it, don’t worry.”

“I think—” he starts. “I think I said something wrong.”

Inko is a little confused before she shakes her head, “We all say wrong things sometimes.”

“I don’t want to hurt him anymore,” he confesses suddenly with his heart clawing against his lungs.

She looks like she is at a loss. A very long moment passes between them. Inko then smiles with sincerity, eyes twinkling with something like mischief as she says, “Don’t worry, Katsuki-kun. Just give the two of you a little more time.”

He does not know why, but he finds ease in those words. His muscles relax and he can breathe a little easier.

“Good night, Katsuki-kun,” she says kindly. “Get home safe.”

“Ok,” he responds.

“I’ll have him text you tomorrow,” she adds.

He nods, “Thank you.”

“Good night, Katsuki-kun,” Inko repeats. Her smile is playful.

“Good night, Auntie,” he responds and lets her close the door behind him.

—

Chapter Text

Katsuki waits late at the train station every day. Despite Inko’s assurance, there was a resounding static between him and Izuku. His friends notice that Izuku is gone and they notice that he obsessively checks his phone between each class period. They ask and he remains silent, saving his breath for Izuku.

Finally, on a morning when the clouds are misty and the third train is about to leave, he sees Izuku expertly weaving through the crowd and his heart rises from disappointment to flutter with anxiety. He straightens up and gazes over the beating mass of people to keep track of Izuku. Their eyes meet for a brief millisecond. Then Izuku is straying.

Frowning deeply, Katsuki pursues him. He is running and Katsuki wonders if Izuku intentionally stalled because he thought that Katsuki wouldn’t risk being late just to take the train with him. Katsuki himself is surprised but he hasn’t ever been rational and straight thinking when it comes to this boy of green valleys.

Somewhat of a chase builds. He fights through the people who appear as nothing more than tall shifting grass with his blinders on. It takes a good several minutes until Katsuki eventually corners him at the edge of the platform. Any farther and Izuku will be catching a different train. He calls his name.

“Kacchan,” Izuku responds, tucking himself tightly into his jacket too thick for the blooming summer. There are bellflowers under his green eyes, deep and purple and harsh against the sallowness of his skin. He looks down at their feet and weaves his fingers together in front of him until they look like mangled roots.

“Are you feeling better,” Katsuki asks, reaching to feel Izuku’s forehead. He stops short when Izuku flinches away and fists the air before dropping his hand that is as big as Izuku’s head. It is a mystery to him whether Izuku had grown smaller or if he had grown larger. “Sorry…”

Izuku nods his round head on his little neck, “I am.”

He doesn’t look like it, but he is here and Katsuki is glad.

The train pulls in and their stilted conversation gets cut all the way short as they breach the silence of the car and wait for it to move.

The later trains are just as packed, if not more so than the other ones; and because Katsuki chased Izuku inside, they are pressed fully against each other right at the door. With no grace at all, the train jolted forward and Izuku’s hands fell against Katsuki’s chest to steady their owner. Izuku sucks in a breath and stares up with eyes the size of stars. His yellow face then washes with the lovely color of his heart.

Katsuki fears Izuku might be able to feel the traitorous beating hidden under layers of clothes and muscle and bone with his smart fingertips. The person on their side loses their balance. His arm is just quick enough to brace the person from hurting Izuku and his palm kisses the glass. Izuku bleeds redder and he curls his own hands into Katsuki’s blazer as he bows and turns his head away. In the silence of the train and with the closeness of their bodies, there is not much for Katsuki to do but admire the nape of Izuku’s beautiful neck.

The train ride is five stops. Izuku is easy to shove around. Katsuki knows from his many years of experience so he uses his stronger frame to deflect all the stray limbs and attempts to bully in and out from his company. When their stop approaches and the doors open, Katsuki lets Izuku out first and then follows after to keep up with his scurrying steps.

“Izuku,” Katsuki calls.

He slows enough that it takes just two long strides for Katsuki to come to his side. Izuku is still red in the face and Katsuki frowns.

“Are you ok? Is your fever coming back,” he asks.

Izuku looks up in surprise before going redder and lifting his elbows to hide in them, “No, I—!” His eyes close and his brows turn fitful as he fights to get his words out. He then lowers his arms and grabs his shoulders. Pitifully, he says, “Kacchan… you’re so stupid!”

“Hah?” Katsuki squints, “Oi, who are you calling stupid? I didn’t do anything!”

“Yes you did,” Izuku argues, he huffs. His face continues to well with so much blood Katsuki is afraid he will burst. He grips himself harder, “You— You make me sick!”

It breaks Katsuki to hear that, no matter how deserved it is. He can’t help the anger rising to cover the rest of his feelings. But it is luck that brings the next word out of his mouth, “Sick?”

“Yes,” Izuku cuts in vehemently. “Sick! My— My heart beats too fast and my stomach feels like it’s in my mouth and my body feels like it’s weightless! It’s like I’m gasping for air and holding my breath at the same time! When you’re nice to me or you stand too close to me like this… I get sick and I don’t know how to deal with it because it isn’t like any time I’ve been sick before.

“Kacchan… When you get too close you make me realize how far I am away. You’re a different kind of mean now,” Izuku says and it sounds like he is about to weep. “I can’t take it this time.”

There is nothing for Katsuki to empathize with or even understand. All he knows is that Izuku is something wonderful and that he is the cause of all his pain. He wants to take all the grief that Izuku has and turn it into joy because even if he is beautiful when he is in pain he does not deserve to be hurt like this. Katsuki is filled with his own shame and grief because even if he doesn’t understand what he’s done this time, he knows that he has always, always done nothing but hurt Izuku.

A big emotion swirls and swells in Katsuki’s chest as a tide reaches for the moon.

His hands shake and he moves fast, fingers grappling against Izuku’s arms a touch too harsh. He yanks Izuku into his chest and holds him so tight he jolts when he feels brittle ribs start to creak. Katsuki loosens just a bit but does not let go and continues to press Izuku against him with the vigor of a boy in the depths of a great big sea of something unnameable. And so painfully, so unbelievably does this big emotion take over almost all of Katsuki’s senses.

None of which can he say. All he can do is hope that Izuku— with an ear pressed against his sternum— can hear it exist in the pounding of his loudest organ. But his hope is futile as in the strength and bigness of Katsuki’s arms, Izuku appears small and lonely and sad. He appears like he wants to be anywhere else but with Katsuki.

—

“Your boyfriend is back,” Ashido says during lunch. It is only them today as Sero and Kirishima are off with Recovery Girl while Jirou and Kaminari are at their work study. She swirls her hand so that the natto strings break and then she sucks on her chopsticks to get the slime off.

Katsuki wrinkles his nose for a few reasons. He cuts into his rice with a spoon, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Mm,” she hums skeptically. “Ok. He’s still back though, where did he go?”

“None of your business.”

“How come you’re not coming together anymore?”

“Why do you care,” he bites.

She rolls her eyes, “Because he was gone for a week and you were all gloomy and now he’s back but you’re coming separately and you’re still gloomy. Final exams are coming up, normally you’re way more focused. Don’t tell me you’re upset because he found a new lover!”

He drops the spoon with a hiss as his hands involuntarily heated up enough to send the spoon glowing. Ashido’s eyes drop to the sight and her mouth parts, “Oh geez, I was joking you know. Did he really?”

“No,” Katsuki barks, closing his fist as the sweat in his hand sparked. He scowls, “He was sick.”

“Is he ok now?”

“Yes.”

“Then why aren’t you coming to school with him,” she asks.

“I can walk by myself,” Katsuki said with a scowl.

“Then why are you brooding,” Ashido asks, squinting at him from across the table. She leans an elbow on the table and brings the straw of her strawberry milk to her lips. Sipping and chewing idly, she waits for his answer.

“I’m not brooding,” he says.

She lifts a brow, “You are.”

“I don’t brood.”

“You do.” She smirks a bit, “You’re doing it right now.”

Katsuki glares and picks his spoon back up, it is still hot but he can bear it, “No, I fucking am not.”

“Mmhm,” she agrees, watching as he has to drop his spoon for a second time. Nodding slowly, she reaches over with the clean ends of her chopstick and picks up his utensil. Ashido drops it into his water that punctuates her point with a sear. Flipping her chopsticks back around, she picks up a piece of his takuan and crunches down on it.

She is waiting.

“I’m not,” he says.

She hums again, picking another piece from his plate.

“I’m not,” he reiterates.

“Mmh.” She goes for his salad.

“I’m not,” he bites out.

Ashido’s chopsticks pluck a piece of meat from his curry and he swats her hand away.

“Stop taking my food!”

“Tell me why you’re brooding,” she demands right back and swiftly stabs through a carrot and chews it tauntingly.

They stare at each other and she is much too blase. He tells himself it is not a loss when he looks down and grumbles out, “He says I’m mean.”

“Well, you are,” Ashido points out. “If you don’t want someone to say that then you should be nice.”

“I don’t even know how I was mean in the first place,” Katsuki argues. He pauses and grips his chopsticks hard enough they bend.

His reaction is not lost on her and she flicks her gaze down then up, “Looks like you do.”

“It’s not— It’s different,” he tries to explain but guilt is a hot, hot feeling. He puts his chopsticks down once he feels them start to give and moves to fish his spoon out of his water bottle. Katsuki can’t even look at her.

Ashido tilts her head and senses something is up with him. She thinks for a second before asking, “What happened this time?”

He is silent.

She acquiesces and puts her milk down with a chewed up straw. Shifting back in her seat, she says, “Maybe you should just make up for it.”

“How?”

“Talk to him, do something for him, take him somewhere, I don’t know. You’re the one in the doghouse, not me,” Ashido says.

For all her annoying qualities, her ideas aren’t that bad. Katsuki grunts and she snorts.

“I’ll take it that’s your ‘thank you, Ashido, you’re such a helpful and caring friend’,” she jokes.

“It’s not,” Katsuki lies.

—

“Woah! Bakugou coming in hot,” Awase yells as he backs against the door.

The rest of the people intent on filing into the boy’s locker room part as Katsuki sprints out. His bag nearly flies off his shoulder as he ties his blazer around his waist. The belt between his teeth almost clubs a poor first year in the head with the metal buckle as he passes.

“Third day in a row, what is up with him,” he hears someone say.

“Fourth,” someone else clarifies. “You missed the first day; he tried to run out in just a towel, Aizawa-sensei caught him and gave him detention.”

“What the hell?”

It might seem a little ridiculous to most people, but cornering Izuku is almost impossible. Katsuki is surprised that he managed to do it so frequently in middle school, though he supposes he did not have to run across an eight square kilometer campus to do it before. Izuku all but disappeared from the train station in the morning, which Katsuki suspects means that he is walking the extra fifteen minutes to go to the station across town. He must also be leaving early because no matter how late Katsuki stays at either his starting or ending point Izuku is nowhere to be found. Searching for him during breaks or lunch is also fruitless because Izuku could slip anywhere unnoticed be it for his face that no one seems to know or his slight stature that easily gets swallowed up by the many big bodies of U.A.

He had to resort to sprinting across campus to hopefully catch Izuku in his classroom before he wisped away.

Despite having to change out of his ruined beyond wearable measure gym uniform, luck is in his fortune today over time.

He all but stumbles into class 2-G where Izuku looks like he’s being held back by the teacher. Izuku, some stray students, and the second year support course instructor— a tall, looming woman with dark skin and a face made of angles and sternness— shoot their gazes toward the entrance. Izuku gapes at him and the teacher raises an eyebrow testily.

“Bakugou-kun,” she greets evenly. “What are you so desperately in need of that you need to run in the halls?”

“Izuku,” he says, spitting out his belt and throwing it over his shoulder. There is sweat on his brow and back trickling down from his small race and the fact that he did not shower to get there so quickly, “I need to talk to Izuku.”

Some students start whispering.

She squints at him suspiciously, “How coincidental that I need to talk to Midoriya-kun as well. You may wait your turn.”

“I—”

“You may wait your turn,” she repeats. Lifting her hand briefly from where it’s tucked into her opposite elbow, she waves for them to follow her, “I’ll be discussing something important with Midoriya-kun in the teacher’s lounge. You’re welcome to wait for him outside. In the meantime you can make yourself proper.”

He grinds his teeth together and purses his lips as she looks him up and down with none-too-subtle distaste. Katsuki knows he must look like a mess with his wrinkled, half buttoned shirt and his left pant leg caught over the lip of his boot. Stepping back out of the way, he nods. Izuku looks at him with some part curiosity and some part dread.

A good fifteen minutes pass. Katsuki spends three of them fixing his clothes and the other twelve impatiently checking the time on his phone screen. He almost did not notice the other door opening silently, only when he saw a flash of yellow did his head whip around. Izuku was trying to sneak away quietly, but Katsuki is quicker and quieter and grabs his wrist.

Izuku yelps and tries to pull away, but Katsuki’s grip is too strong.

“Stop avoiding me,” Katsuki says flatly, glaring at Izuku who wilts.

“I— I’m not,” Izuku lies, but his face has always been terribly honest. He looks guilty and caught. “I just— I’ve been very busy lately. Since I missed so much school there’s a lot for me to make up and then with final exams so close there’s even more for me to study for and catch up on— which is actually what Kasasagi-sensei wanted me to talk about. You see, she just gave me a packet to finish before the exam for her class on Thursday and it’s very big so I should probably go and get started on that now—”

“Izuku.”

He sucks in a breath. His green eyes are wide and beautiful.

Katsuki’s mouth fumbles before he settles, “I just want you to be by my side.”

And then Izuku goes breathless. He looks at Katsuki in awe as if he cannot believe they are so close.

“I don’t know what I said that made you upset,” Katsuki says. He groans and bites his tongue in a fit, “I don’t— I’m not nice. Like you said, I’m mean. And I’ll probably always be a jackass, but I don’t want to hurt you anymore. So just let me do my best. Please.”

His face is hot with embarrassment and Izuku could not look more in shock. They stand like that for a long moment until Izuku pulls at his wrist again. Quietly, he says, “You’re holding me too tight.”

Katsuki releases him like he got stung, “Shit. Sorry—”

Izuku frowns very deeply and he doesn’t sound happy, when next he speaks. Instead he seems to confess his greatest shame, “I want to be by your side too.”

Katsuki feels like he is failing.

—

His second attempt to find Izuku does not come until summer and is even more desperate than his last one. On a day where he is off from his internship and his friends don’t come for him too early, Katsuki is up, hurrying about the house as he gathers his things.

“Where are you going,” his father asks, peeking over his newspaper.

“Out.”

“Where,” his mother chimes in, cocking her hip out as she raises her eyebrow.

“Out,” Katsuki repeats, rushing through the hall and pulling his shoes on.

“Katsuki,” she calls, but he is out the door already.

He takes a shortcut he hasn’t taken since he was five years old and ends up in front of an apartment door in less than ten minutes. Lifting his hand, he knocks a bit obnoxiously. Like last time, Inko pulls open the door and stares at him in surprise. She smiles easily.

“Good morning, Katsuki-kun,” she says.

“Good morning,” he responds. “Is—”

“How did your exams go,” she asks. The look in her eye is a bit playful as she cuts him off like she didn’t hear him. “Mitsuki-san says you were tied with another student for second place in your course.”

Closing his mouth, he leans back on his heels. They both know he is impatient, that is probably why she is making him wait. He shifts and says, “Yeah.”

“As expected of you. Izuku passed as well, but he struggled a bit. He says that the U.A. curriculum is much more advanced than his last school,” she says. “But you’ve always been exceptional in that sort of thing.”

“Thanks,” he says and forgets to add anything else. He searches behind her, “Is Izu—”

“I imagine that U.A. is very difficult though,” she prompts with her eyes smiling more and more.

At that point, he remembers himself and gives his attention back to her and nods, “It is. It kicks my ass sometimes.”

She laughs and shakes her head, “But you do well regardless. Did you come for Izuku?”

“Yes,” he answers quickly.

Biting her lips together, she nods, “Are you taking him out today?”

“If I can.” He has never been so unsure with someone.

She nods, “Ok. I’ll go wake him up. Just wait here a bit, ok?”

“Thank you.”

Nodding, she closes the door and Katsuki remains there. He feels a bit strange as he waits there by himself. Even more so when he hears two voices start to converse rather loudly. Eventually, Inko opens the door again and uses a hidden strength to force Izuku out the door.

“Mom,” Izuku gasps, stumbling forward. He trips over his own foot and Katsuki catches him smoothly.

Inko smiles wider and says, “Have fun! If you’re going to be out don’t forget to use sunscreen, ok? I’m going to make fish for dinner.”

“Mom!” Izuku turns around and reaches for the door but it is then slammed in his face and the sound of the lock falling closed rings in the air. Groaning, Izuku then bumps his forehead against the door and Katsuki scoffs.

“Wow, you don’t want to be around me that much, huh,” he observes.

Izuku stiffens and turns quickly, “I— That’s not it! I just— I was just planning to stay home today! There’s lots to do, uhm, I have to change the soil in some of my plants and—”

“And you have a whole summer to do that,” Katsuki says. “Can’t you bear me for one day?”

Izuku stops and looks down, fisting the jacket in his grip.

Dressed like this, Katsuki can see how much weight Izuku lost in the year he had not seen him. He dresses more like how a teenage boy ought to, a way that is distinctly unlike him. A white shirt that nearly matches the color of his pallid skin tucked into jeans that sit low on his little hips and shoes that are plainer and blacker than Katsuki ever saw. He can see in the whiteness of his shirt and the blackness of his shoes how very tired and sad Izuku is. And all of it is emphasized by how he seems to weigh only as much as his skeleton.

Izuku’s hands remind Katsuki of white spiders. His palms are slim and his fingers are long and white and seem crooked. They are smooth in certain positions and creature-like in others with his pronounced knuckles and his skin that clings to bone.

“You lost weight,” Katsuki says before he can think twice.

Izuku cringes and his shoulder blades shift like he intends to hide behind them. His fingers twist in a way that Katsuki knows means he is ashamed and an apology wells in his throat like bile.

“I have,” Izuku confirms before Katsuki can say anything. He looks dreadfully sad, “I was very sick last year. I still have trouble keeping up my appetite.”

“How sick,” Katsuki asks. Izuku looks surprised and then he looks ashamed. Katsuki should have kept his mouth closed. He purses his lips and looks away,

“Sorry, you don’t need to say anything.”

“It’s fine. I just…” He seems to have a million things to say rising to his teeth, but Izuku just pulls the baggy jacket over his body and smiles weakly. “Let’s go?”

“Let’s go,” Katsuki agrees. He turns and Izuku follows him down the long flight of stairs.

Katsuki leads them to the train station in silence. His pace is brisk but slow enough that Izuku can follow without being winded. Eventually they end up at the booth, at which point Katsuki sends Izuku off to go find them drinks.

“But,” Izuku starts, “Where are we going?”

“The sea,” Katsuki answers.

“The sea?”

“The sea.”

Furrowing his brows, Izuku opens his mouth but Katsuki just spins him around by his shoulders and pushes him off in the direction of the small stand a ways away from the ticket booth. Obediently, if not a bit suspiciously, Izuku goes off to get them drinks.

When he returns, Katsuki simply starts walking in the direction of their platform.

“Which beach are we going to,” Izuku asks.

“You’ll see,” Katsuki states.

“Kacchan, you can’t just take me from home and not tell me where we’re going,” Izuku complains. “That’s kidnapping!”

“It’s not kidnapping if your mom said it was ok.”

Huffing, he pouts and hacks into his elbow quietly before going on, “But it was against my will! What if I had plans with someone?”

“Who would you have plans with aside from Auntie,” Katsuki asks plainly, staring down at Izuku who gapes and flushes.

“I-I have friends, you know,” Izuku says. “There’s Shinso-kun from class 2-A and— and Sumida-senpai!”

“Do you hang out with them?”

“Well, I haven’t yet,” he admits, looking down at the dripping water bottles in his hands. He suddenly glances up again and says, “I’m not like you, Kacchan. I don’t have so many friends that I can just blow off as I please.”

“I didn’t blow anyone off,” Katsuki scoffs.

“But you came over super early because you knew that they would show up later,” Izuku says.

Katsuki squints at him and accuses, “You talk to her.”

“Ashido-san? Yes, she’s been texting me all morning because you weren’t at home when they went to get you,” Izuku says. He flicks the ringer of his phone on and as if on cue his phone blips several times.

“When did you start talking to her,” Katsuki asks. He might trust that girl with his life in a fight, but not with any of his privacy.

Izuku turns his ringer back off, “She asked for my Line account when I designed her new boots at the beginning of the year.”

“What did she tell you?”

Looking at him strangely, Izuku says, “Nothing. She usually just asks for help with homework. I mean, sometimes she asks how I’m doing when I’m absent, but that’s it. Was she supposed to tell me something?”

“No,” Katsuki responds flatly. The train rolls in.

Izuku coughs and follows him to their seats.

—

Right around the third hour, Izuku asks for the umpteenth time where they are going.

“It’s not much longer,” Katsuki promises. “Just wait.”

By the time they get off, the sun is up right in the center of the sky. They have to weave on and off a few more trains until Katsuki then turns and asks, “Are you ok with walking? It shouldn’t take too long.”

“How long,” Izuku asks. They’ve barely done more than sit for the past several hours but Izuku looks tired.

Katsuki opens his phone and says, “Forty minutes if we’re slow.”

“I can do that,” Izuku assures. He sheds his jacket and ties it around his waist before looking at Katsuki to lead the way.

They begin their long walk. Partway through, the sun beats down on them too much and they stop to buy a large umbrella from a small shop on the side of the road. They continue through the twisting roads and sidewalks until they reach their destination.

“A lighthouse,” Izuku says, gazing across the bridge in surprise. For the first time that day, Izuku steps in front of Katsuki and starts on his own way. There isn’t much to do but chase after him.

It is a little busy, with it being summer and a tourist spot, but Izuku doesn’t mind as he explores. Katsuki is content to watch him be fascinated and to stare at the scenery himself. Eventually, time comes around for him to grow hungry and he nudges Izuku where he is standing on the railing gazing out at the biggest sea.

“Mmh?”

“Let’s go down,” Katsuki says, pointing to the small rocky beach where no one is.

Izuku observes the spot, “Are we allowed to go down there?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well, yes,” Izuku says. “You know, for all you act like you do, you’re usually a lot more rule-conscious. Before, you wouldn’t even think of things like that.”

He feels a bit ridiculous, but he simply holds his hand out to Izuku and says, “I’m a different Kacchan.”

Izuku pauses before smiling warmly and allowing himself to be helped down, “You are, aren’t you?”

They do end up finding a path that leads down to the beach, but they decide to stay in the shade of the forest until the sun goes away a decent amount more. Sitting upon a wooden post, Katsuki opens up his bag and procures some food for the both of them. Nothing fancy, just lightly salted rice that he had pressed in his hands that morning and wrapped in nori.

“I’m sorry,” Izuku says suddenly, setting his fine hands over his knees. He has taken all but one bite of his food, “I wasn’t mad at you.”

Katsuki blinks, “What?”

“When you came to give me my homework and you told me not to do something like that again for you, it just made me really sad,” Izuku explains. He traces the shape of his pant seam where it bends and wrinkles with his knobby knee, “I wanted to do something for you, but instead you pitied me. And it made me feel weak and feeling weak made me embarrassed because I was staring up at someone who is so strong.”

Katsuki doesn’t know what to say.

“At the first entrance exam, I had a pneumothorax,” Izuku says. He reaches for his ribs and holds them, “It’s when your lung collapses. I had a couple more last year. It’s a couple of things. Apparently they happen more to people who are thin, but they think it’s mostly because of my Quirk and all the trauma and stress it causes to my lungs. The last one I had was pretty bad, the doctor told me not to use my quirk if I could help it. They say that a lot of people whose family quirk history is not as long often find that their bodies aren’t adapted.”

“The doctors say if my Quirk gets stronger I might die one day because of it,” Izuku says as he unsticks some fingers from the nori. “Do you know how terrifying that is?”

“You won’t die,” Katsuki says quickly. The thought of Izuku succumbing to anything but life makes his heart burst with sorrow. He had once dreamed of a life without Izuku but he thinks if he were to have such a dream, he too would die. There is a sheer ache that makes his ribs rattle with dread at the thought of it.

Izuku chokes on a laugh so dry it makes him cough. He looks beautiful even when he is sad and the fact makes Katsuki’s lungs drain of breath. Lilting his head to one side as they look out to the horizon from their place in the biggest and loneliest sea, Izuku says, “I don’t want to.”

He swallows and another tear slides down his face. Then it dawns on Katsuki that Izuku might be so beautiful because he is doomed with a death-promised fate and nothing that is beautiful can ever last in a world like this. He wants to save Izuku from his tragic life, for Izuku and for himself because he is a selfish boy and deep in his heart he might have always loved him. The thought is strange, considering there used to be such a desire to hurt him. Though that might just be human nature, to hurt what is beautiful because such emotions cannot be contained in the bowels of a chest.

They cannot be contained now. Katsuki surprises both Izuku and himself when he leans over and kisses Izuku with all the vigor of a boy in love. Izuku is stiff under his lips. Katsuki reaches up and slides his fingers behind his spiny neck and up to his soft hair where he can gently pull Izuku into the best position. A second passes and then slowly, Izuku is pressing back unpracticed and unsure. He is holding his breath instead of slowly cycling through his nose and that means that he eventually has to pull away and gasp.

Katsuki stares at him intently and says, “Don’t die then.”

Izuku’s face is red and pretty. His jaw is fishing as he searches for something to say. He then snaps his jaw shut and nods.

“I’m only going to say this one more time; I want you by my side. I’m gonna do my best to keep you there so don’t run or feel embarrassed or— or die.” Katsuki traces his hand down from Izuku’s red face to his pink neck all the way down to his little white wrist and grabs his sticky, furikake hand. He butts their foreheads together to glare directly into Izuku’s round, wet eyes, “Don’t you dare die or something stupid like that. Just know your place already, Deku. It’s right next to me.”

Izuku blubbers at the use of his nickname and then bursts into tears. He leans forward and presses his face into the black front of Katsuki’s chest and heaves out all his sorrow. A few stray sightseers come at that point and then promptly turn away at the strange sight and Katsuki’s harsh snarl.

“You— You really suck, Kacchan,” Izuku cries. “You’re mean and you suck at talking and I don’t know what you’re saying sometimes. But I really want to stand next to you forever.”

“Then do it, nerd,” Katsuki says simply.

Izuku wheezes and coughs. Scoffing, Katsuki winds his arm around Izuku’s shoulders, “Don’t make yourself sick. I’ll make you get home by yourself if you throw up on me.”

“Don’t be mean to me,” Izuku warbles. “You already made me cry.”

“Don’t be dumb,” Katsuki says back, resting his chin on top of a green head and looking out to where the ocean lies, vast and inviting.

—

The train home is just as long as the train there. Izuku, exhausted, falls asleep against Katsuki’s shoulder. When it stops, Izuku hasn’t stirred yet so Katsuki, with some finagling, get’s the boy onto his back. People look at them strangely as they exit, but Katsuki doesn’t care enough to wake him. Regardless, Izuku is already awake if the tightening of the arms around his neck and the face digging deeper into his neck is anything to go by.

“This is really embarrassing,” Izuku whispers, breath hot against Katsuki’s collar.

“Then get off.”

“No, I like it,” he murmurs.

“Then don’t complain,” Katsuki says.

Izuku hums, “Kacchan is strong.”

“Of course.”

“I’m going to lean on you now, ok,” Izuku says. “Hold me up.”

“I already am.”

He laughs breathily, “If you ever need to lean on me too, I’ll return the favor.”

“I’m twice your size, you couldn’t pick me up if you tried,” Katsuki scoffs. The night air is pleasant against the heat of his skin and made cooler by the blue street lamps above their heads.

“You know what I mean,” Izuku says.

Quietly, he acquiesces, “Yeah.”

“Thanks for taking me out today, Kacchan.”

He shifts his hold a bit on Izuku’s thighs, “You’re welcome.”

“Thanks for letting me be next to you, Kacchan.”

“Yeah.”

“I wanna say something, Kacchan,” Izuku says.

“How many times are you gonna blab that shitty name,” Katsuki snips.

Izuku lifts his head a bit and puts his lips against Katsuki’s ear and whispers as if he is sharing a secret, “I like Kacchan.”

Eyebrow twitching, Katsuki suddenly hikes Izuku higher onto his back and picks up his pace. A squeaky yelp gets jostled out and Izuku clings tighter, “W-Wah! Kacchan, are you really in a hurry to get home?”

“I’m gonna kiss you to death,” Katsuki says angrily, rounding through the park to take the shortcut to Izuku’s home.

“To death? That’s— That’s really frightening, Kacchan,” Izuku says worriedly. “Did I make you mad?”

“You’re just awful,” Katsuki says.

Izuku is clueless and innocent as he asks, “Awful?”

Mulling it over for a second, Katsuki then corrects himself, “Terrible.”

He does not need to look to know that Izuku is blushing when his arms go tense.