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Katsuki basked in his boyfriend’s attention, sinking into Deku’s warm body and strong arms. “Feels good,” he murmured as fingers ran through his hair and scratched at his scalp. Deku chuckled softly and dropped a kiss on his shoulder. 

The next thing he knew, Deku was gone. Katsuki fell back onto the seat cushions and sighed, staring at the ceiling. He had a knack for slipping away the moment anyone so much as thought about showing up.

Sure enough, the classmates who called him their friend tumbled into the room. “Yo, bro! What’re you doing down there?” Kirishima asked from Kaminari’s headlock.

Katsuki steadfastly stared at the cracks in the paint. “Can’t a guy enjoy some peace and quiet?” he grumbled. Who was he kidding? Wasn’t like he’d be getting that now. He dragged himself from the couch. 

“Geez, who died?” Sero asked as Katsuki strode from the room. “Midoriya, what’s up with him?”

“I-I don’t know! M-maybe I should go find out?” Deku stuttered as Katsuki nudged open the door to the stairwell.

Yeah, like you don’t know, he thought bitterly, stomping up the stairs two at a time.

“Kacchan!” Deku slipped through just before the door shut, and Katsuki held back an irritated growl. Couldn’t he be alone for once? He had a right to be upset, damn it!

“Kacchan, wait!” Deku’s footsteps were quick, catching up to him by the second landing. “Hey.” He slipped his hand into Katsuki’s. “Don’t let what they said get to you, all right?”

Katsuki shook off his hand. “I’m fine,” he snapped, scowling.

“Obviously. Look, let’s just go somewhere else, okay? We could go to my room”—Katsuki stomped deliberately past the landing—“o-or we could go to yours!”

“Deku.” Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose between his hands, sighing into the V they made and closing his eyes. How was he supposed to tell his boyfriend he wanted to be alone? Deku would understand, sure, but his eyes would do that shiny thing like Katsuki just kicked a puppy. He groaned.

“What is it? Is something wrong? Kacchan?” Deku peered at him woefully. “Can I help?”

“No, just—” Katsuki bit his lip. “Let’s go watch a movie or something. Okay? My room.”

“That sounds good! There’s a special feature on Present Mic I’ve been meaning to rewatch! Did you know he…”

Deku’s fingers laced with his, and Katsuki let him ramble all the way to the fourth floor. The words washed over him, lilting through his subconsciousness as he struggled to bury his irritation. He was a good boyfriend, a happy boyfriend. He was respecting Deku’s boundaries, which meant he was making Deku happy, too. They’d go to his room, watch a movie, debate pros and cons and dumbass “analysts” who couldn’t see past their own noses. Maybe they’d make out a little, if he was lucky, and everything would go back to normal.

“Kacchan?” Deku’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he realized he was staring at the door. “You sure you’re all right?”

“’M fine,” he said, giving himself a little shake. When he moved to open the door, Deku’s fingers slid from his. Right. Deep breaths. Good boyfriend.

Still, his hands felt cold, so he shoved them into his pockets.

~

The “special feature” was not well done. Katsuki was surprised Chillax even streamed it. Calling it a B-rated film would be giving it the benefit of the doubt. It sucked, and Katsuki was much more interested in sucking on the pale expanse of Deku’s neck.

“K-Kacchan!” Deku squirmed delightfully under his ministrations. “Don’t leave any m-marks. Kacchan!” He squirmed again, this time trying to get away.

Katsuki immediately let go and sat back against the wall, biting his lip to keep from scowling. He wanted to mark Deku up, wanted everyone to know the idiotic, sunshiny nerd was his. He wanted to hold his hand in public, damn it!

“What’s wrong?”

Fuck. Guilt flooded him. Katsuki wasn’t supposed to feel that way. He was supposed to be understanding, supportive. “Nothing.” The word came out clipped.

“Your brow is all scrunched up.” Deku smoothed his frown with a finger, then kissed it. “There! All better!”

Suddenly, it was not all better. Katsuki leapt to his feet and paced across the room. He clenched his fists, swallowed his words and strode back to Deku, but there was nothing he could say. He felt jittery in his bones and didn’t know what to do with all the energy threatening to explode, so he threw himself into his desk chair and bounced a foot on the floor.

“What’s wrong?” Deku asked again. Kneeling next to him, he gently pried Katsuki’s fingers from the fabric of his sweats. Katsuki hadn’t even realized he’d been gripping them.

“I don’t—” He swallowed. The words went down hard this time, past a lump in his throat that threatened to choke him. “I’m not—” His eyes felt hot, and he blinked rapidly. “Deku, am I—”

He couldn’t even finish the sentence. His words were cut off by a wet, hacking cough, and he turned his head into his elbow.

“Here, let me grab you some water.” Deku stood, but Katsuki’s coughs doubled in intensity. He fell to the floor on hands and knees, gagging.

“Kacchan!” Deku dropped next to him with a hand on his shoulder. Katsuki could barely hear him past the whistle of each breath, the pounding beat of his heart, the panic in his veins. “You’re bleeding!”

Katsuki heaved, too focused on pulling air into his lungs to care. There was something stuck in his throat, choking him, and he needed to get it out. He tried to cough, but it was so hard to draw breath past the obstruction. Dizziness swamped him, threatening his vision with sparks and faded edges.

“I’m calling Recovery Girl.”

He moved away, but finally, finally, whatever was stuck in Katsuki’s throat came loose and spilled to the floor with a soggy splat. Katsuki collapsed on his side, gasping for air. He wanted to hoard the oxygen, keep it inside—keep himself alive—for as long as he could, but the adrenaline pumping through his body said otherwise. Run, fight, survive, it told him, but Katsuki couldn’t move, so he just panted desperately.

Deku fell against his legs, jostling him. “Hanahaki,” he whispered hoarsely. “But… why, Kacchan?” His voice rose, gaining strength. “Why do you have hanahaki? Who—how long?” Katsuki dragged his eyelids open to see Deku wiping at tears. “Have you just been laughing at me this whole time?”

“Hanahaki?” Katsuki’s voice was wrecked, ruined. He winced as his throat constricted. The soft tissue of his vocal cords was scraped raw, and talking only destroyed it more. Swallowing made the agony so much worse, and his entire body flinched from it, trying to escape the pain. “What—”

His eyes trailed across the floor, lingered on the blood splattered across it, and caught on the mess that was a flower positively drenched in red. This thing came out of him? How?

It was huge—easily the span of Katsuki’s hand—and round, thick with wide petals. He reached out a weary hand and lifted it. It was surprisingly heavy, and there was pink hidden inside, protected by the outer petals. It was soft and pale, like the lightest of blushes.

It looked romantic.

Katsuki let it drop from his hand. It rolled right off the tips of his fingers to land awkwardly on the floor, and his head fell back with a thunk. He closed his eyes with a wistful little sigh. He was far too tired for romance.

“So… so that’s it? Just… nothing? No explanation?”

Katsuki grimaced when he tried to swallow. What did Deku want him to say? 

“Don’ have one.” Speaking was a bitch. Maybe water would help, but the very thought of drinking almost made him tear up.

Deku turned on him. “What do you mean you don’t have one?”

Why was Deku mad? He wasn’t the one bloodying the floor with giant death flowers! What the fuck? “Don’t—” He coughed again. Something tickled his throat, sliding up the back, and panic threatened to drown him. He gagged and retched and shoved fingers down his throat to free a long, slippery stem crowned with three yellow blooms.

It was pretty, and he hated it. He hated it with the passion of a thousand suns.

Sparks popped on his palms, but Deku reached out and snatched the flower. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “Don’t you know these flowers have meaning?”

Katsuki huffed. “Don’ care,” he grunted. Rolling over, he pushed himself up and swayed. He ignored Deku’s protests and wobbled his way to the fridge. The bottle of water was deliciously when he pressed to his face. His hands fumbled with the cap, but he couldn’t muster the energy to twist it open.

Deku took the bottle. “Here, I’ve got it.” 

“Thanks,” he whispered as Deku handed it back. The cool water slid down his throat like ambrosia after a trek across the desert. The pain still lingered, but the worst of it was gone.

“Better?”

“Much.” His voice was still hoarse, but that was probably to be expected.

“Good. Then will you tell me what’s going on?” Deku gestured at the mess on the floor, and Katsuki flinched.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he muttered. Why should he have to defend himself for something out of his control? He didn’t even know why he was spewing plants in the first place!

“You know what hanahaki is!” Deku shouted, and Katsuki’s fists clenched. “Everybody knows!”

“Of course I do! I’m not an idiot!”

Deku looked at the ceiling. His jaw worked like he was trying to keep from shouting again. Finally, he took a deep breath and met Katsuki’s eyes. “Will you at least respect me enough to tell me why you thought we should keep… keep dating when you’re in love with someone else?”

“Wh—I’m not!” Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was he so impossible?

Deku threw his hands up in the air. “It’s kind of obvious, Kacchan!”

Katsuki jumped to his feet. The water bottle fell to the ground, splashing onto his feet, and he kicked it across the room. “What’s obvious?” he hissed, right up in Deku’s face.

“That you don’t—” Deku hiccupped. “Th-that you don’t l-love me.” He looked down at the narrow strip of floor between their feet. Tears landed on the wood with soft plips. “That you—” His voice caught, and Katsuki’s heart with it. “You love someone else,” he finished in a whisper.

“No,” Katsuki said, shaking his head. Just thinking about the possibility made his chest hurt, and he gripped his shirt over his heart. “The only one I love is you, dumbass.”

Izuku huffed a wry laugh that Katsuki despised. “Sure doesn’t look like it.”

Scrubbing his face with his hands, Katsuki said, “If anything—” He cut himself off.

“What?”

A cough threatened, and Katsuki cleared his throat with a wince. He shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, and coughed, sharp and painful. Tears pricked his eyes, but Katsuki was just grateful no more flowers came up.

“It’s something,” Deku pushed. “What aren’t you telling me? What are you hiding?” His voice rose again, and Katsuki’s anger flared.

“I’m not hiding anything!” he cried, wincing as his voice shredded his throat. It was like trying to swallow broken glass. “You’re the one hiding!”

“I tell you everything!” Deku protested. “I’m not hiding anything from you!”

“No, just from everyone else, right?” The words couldn’t be anything but bitter. His body was a mass of tension. He buzzed with dizzying anxiety, sure he’d regret his next words. Taking a deep breath, he said them anyway. “Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t want this relationship.”

Deku stopped breathing. He looked up at Katsuki with wide, wide eyes, so pretty and green, as tears slid down his jaw. Each drop clung to his skin, desperately hanging on until it became too swollen, too full, and fell to shatter against the floor. Or was that Katsuki, falling into Izuku so completely, so full of all these feelings, trying so hard to hang onto him?

“I—” Deku sucked in a breath. “K-Kacchan, is that what you think? That I don’t—that I don’t want you?” He lunged forward, closing the small distance between them with enough force to rock Katsuki back on his heels.

Slowly, Katsuki let his arms encircle Deku’s shoulders. Gently, he pulled him closer. Carefully—oh, so carefully—he let his head rest on Deku’s. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“D-don’t be s-sorry,” Deku hiccupped through his tears. “D-don’t—it’s not your fault!” He clutched at the back of Katsuki’s shirt, and Katsuki held him tight, eyes burning.

“It’s not… it’s not your fault,” he whispered, “so it must be mine.” His tears dampened the soft, green curls against his face, souring their fragrance with salt. “I’m sorry. I tried so hard to be perfect.”

“What?” Deku pulled away enough to see Katsuki. He rubbed at his face with a hand, beautiful in spite of his red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “Wh-what?”

“I’m sorry,” Katsuki said again, holding his gaze even though he shook from the effort. What if his apology wasn’t good enough? What if he was a huge disappointment? What if Deku didn’t want him anymore?

“N-no, not—not that. The other thing! Why do you think you have to be perfect?” Deku stared up at him, brows furrowed, and Katsuki wanted to smooth the wrinkles away with kisses.

He settled for pressing their foreheads together and hid behind closed eyes. “Because you deserve someone perfect.” He spoke the words softly, for their ears alone, even in the privacy of his bedroom. “Because I want to be better.”

And then, even softer, “Because I don’t want to lose you.” He sighed, shoulders dropping. “Because I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Deku’s voice sounded like it was breaking, and Katsuki’s chest ached. 

“Because I’m not perfect, I’m not better. Because…” His throat felt so tight, but he forced the words out just like that flower, shoved them right into the light. “Because I can’t live without you, and that’s not fair.”

“Kacchan…” Deku’s hands cupped his cheeks, thumbs brushing away tears he hadn’t even felt. “Kacchan, you don’t have to live without me. You don’t have to be perfect, okay? I love you, not some perfect image of a boyfriend. You.”

Katsuki’s breath hitched, and he swallowed. “Then why…” He bit down on his lip, hesitating, but he had to know. Clenching his eyes to hold back the tears, clenching his fists to hold back the fear, he whispered, “Then why are you so ashamed to be with me?”

Deku jerked in his hold. “I-I’m not!” he denied. “Why would you even think that?”

All at once, Katsuki felt drained, too tired to stay on his feet. He let go of Izuku, trying to pretend his arms didn’t feel empty and wrong, and dropped to his bed like his strings had been cut. Dried blood flaked from his fingers and fell to the sheets. He didn’t look at Deku. He didn’t look at the rest of the blood. He definitely did not look at that damning flower.

“I’m tired of being left behind,” he admitted. “Every time someone walks into the room, any time someone else could possibly be around, you… you let go, and I’m just left there alone.” He picked at the dried blood under his fingernails. “I’ve tried to be good for you, and I’m trying so hard to respect your boundaries, but—”

“But I’m walking all over you,” Deku finished.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying!”

“But it’s what’s happening.” Deku knelt next to Katsuki and took his bloodied hand, rubbing his thumb over the palm as though that would wash away the red ingrained in each line and crease. He was crying again.

Shame curled within, hot and sticky and gross, and Katsuki pulled his heels up onto the edge of the bed. Wrapping his free arm around his knees, he buried his face within their warm enclosure. “I suck at this,” he muttered.

“You don’t!” Deku refuted. “But maybe just… open up to me some more? Don’t hide this from me. Don’t be what you think I want you to be, okay?”

Katsuki shrugged and curled further into himself.  He didn’t want to be consoled. He didn’t deserve Deku’s consideration. He should just—

“Hey!” Deku tugged his other hand free, and Katsuki’s feet landed on the floor with a dull thud. “I can hear you beating yourself up from here. Talk to me.”

Katsuki looked at his hands in Deku’s. They were calloused but well taken care of, the skin soft and nails trimmed neatly. His hands were his strength. They were his weapon and his power. 

He looked at how tenderly Deku’s hands cupped them, worn and broken and nail-bitten. It suddenly occurred to him that Deku’s hands were just as capable and strong. They were careful and gentle, holding him up or pushing him forward.

Maybe he was going about this all wrong. Maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t meant to be the only one making things work.

“I’m an idiot,” he breathed

“That’s different,” Deku teased gently. “Why do you get to be the idiot this time?”

Katsuki’s face relaxed into a poorly hidden smile. “Really, nerd?” The nerd just squeezed his hands, waiting patiently. 

With a deep breath, he said again, “I’m sorry.”

“Would you stop apologi—”

Katsuki shut him up with a quick kiss. “I get it now,” he said. “We’re supposed to do this together, like a team.”

Deku smiled. “We are partners, after all.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Despite the carelessness of his words, Katsuki’s hands were gentle as he cupped Deku’s cheeks, rubbing his thumbs through the tears. “I thought being a good boyfriend meant I needed to do everything your way. I thought that was how to keep you happy. I guess it just ended up making you sad anyway.”

Deku placed his hands over Katsuki’s, holding them there. “I’m gonna cry, Kacchan. I cry all the time.”

“I know.” Katsuki smooshed his cheeks and shook his head lightly. His stupid nerd was so cute, and he wanted to kiss him again. “I just… I wanna make you happy so you cry less.”

“You do make me happy!” 

Katsuki smiled softly. “I’m glad.”

Deku rubbed their noses together because he was stupidly cute like that. (Katsuki let him because he was a sap like that.) “I want Kacchan to be happy too, you know. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Well, and to be a hero, of course.”

“Of course.” Katsuki patted the bed next to him for Deku to sit, then grimaced at the tight, sticky feel of blood still all over his hand. And now that he looked, there was a streak on Deku’s cheek from wiping away his tears. Sighing with the weight of the world, he stood. “Let’s get cleaned up. I feel disgusting.”

Deku took his bloodied hand and led him to the bathroom. “It’s like a symbol of the rebirth of our relationship. We’re a phoenix!”

Katsuki snorted. “No, I’m pretty sure you’re just a sappy dumbass.”

“Kacchan!” But Deku was smiling, so he counted it a win. 

They spent the next few minutes tending to each other in silence, hands gentle in the wake of all the painful words. 

“We might need to get you into some clean clothes,” Deku mused as Kacchan led him from the bathroom.

“Gonna undress me, nerd?” Katsuki teased, but the sight of the mess on the floor was a sobering reminder that he had more cleaning to do. No rest for the weary and all that. 

“I’ll get it,” Deku offered. 

“You will not. I’m not making you clean up after me.”

Deku rolled his eyes like the brat he was. “You’re not making me do anything. Besides, I clean up after you plenty, and you’re exhausted. You change while I handle this, then get in bed and rest.”

“But—”

Deku pointed a menacing finger at him. “You will rest, Bakugou Katsuki, or so help me there will be consequences.”

Why was a bossy Deku so damn appealing? “Fine,” he grumbled. “But can I at least get a kiss first?”

Deku gave him a gentle smile that succeeded in turning his insides to mush. “Get over here.”

Katsuki walked into his open arms, but instead of kissing him, he pulled him into a tight hug. Breathing in his soft scent, he nearly teared up all over again. What did he ever do to deserve such a wonderful, understanding boyfriend?

“Gonna keep you forever,” he mumbled, and Deku’s laughter washed away the last of the gloom that hung over them.

“Good,” he said. Leaning back a little, he captured Katsuki’s lips (because he’d long since captured his heart). “I intend to hold you to that. Now, go to bed, Kacchan.” The words were said gently, but Deku’s gaze was firm, and Katsuki shivered.

“Right. Bed.”

“Mhmm.”

“I’m just gonna change.” He pointed at the closet.

Deku spun around. “Well! That’s my cue to leave!” The back of his neck was delightfully red, and Katsuki drew him into his arms before he could go, planting a soft kiss on the heated skin. Deku squeaked, but he tilted his head to let Katsuki drop kisses along the side of his neck. “Gotta go,” he said quietly, squirming a bit, but he didn’t move.

Katsuki hummed and nibbled on the delicate skin behind his jaw. “Then go,” he murmured over his sensitive ear, and Deku wriggled in place.

“Right. Right, going.” It was still another few moments before Deku finally dragged himself from Katsuki’s hold and slid out the door with a soft, “Be right back.”

Katsuki made quick work of changing. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he could barely keep his eyes open, but he was determined to wait for Deku to return. He was dragging the blanket over himself when the door cracked open with a quiet knock.

“Kacchan? Can I come in?”

He grunted, and Deku slipped through the door, shutting it carefully behind him. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“’S fine,” he slurred.

He must have dozed off, because the next time he opened his eyes, Deku was emptying the bucket in the bathroom. The floor was clean once more, but he noticed that the flowers had been rinsed off and were sitting on a towel. “What’s that for?” he mumbled when Deku returned with the bucket of cleaning supplies.

“Hmm?”

Katsuki tilted his head toward the flowers.

“Oh! W-well, I thought… the flowers have meanings, right? I-I was just curious.”

Cheeks lifting in the faintest of smiles, Katsuki mumbled, “Course you are.”

Deku headed toward the door, but suddenly Katsuki couldn’t bear to be alone—not after the emotional mess he’d been. “Stay,” he blurted.

“Wh-what?”

His stomach was a mess of nerves, but he said it again. “Stay. Please?”

“Are you sure?”

Katsuki hummed, pulling back the covers. His eyes closed, but he was confident Deku would join him, and he smiled when he heard him set the bucket down. The light flicked off, plunging the room into soothing darkness, and Katsuki sighed. His arms reached out and wrapped around Deku the moment he laid down, drawing him close where he belonged. The last of his tension eased from his body.

Deku giggled quietly. “Lemme get the blanket at least.” 

He turned to face Katsuki and dragged the covers over them. Tucking his head under Katsuki’s chin, he dropped a chaste kiss to his collarbone.

Katsuki smiled into the darkness and tugged Deku that much closer, pressing his own kiss to soft, green curls. “Thank you,” he murmured softly, barely audible.

“Mm? For what?” Deku’s fingers pressed gently at his sides, a soft squeeze that soothed Katsuki’s battered heart.

“For understanding,” he whispered, fading slowly into sleep. “For bein’ so patient. You mean so much to me, y’know?” He tried to return the squeeze, but his fingers were too tired.

“Of course,” Deku whispered back, and as sleep finally pulled him under, he thought he heard a soft, “I love you too.” 

Warmth bloomed in his heart, and he fell asleep with a smile on his face, Deku’s sweet-scented hair tickling his chin.