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Katsuki wasn’t his. He wasn’t an object to claim, some sort of thing to hold onto—he was his own person. He had been his own person for as long as Izuku had known him, but there had been a time–a very brief period of time–where he was Izuku’s and Izuku’s was his.
It was a time when they would hold hands because Izuku couldn’t stop stumbling over the tree branches or just-a-little-too-big rocks in his pathway. When they would have sleepovers that only the two of them were allowed to partake in, because no one else got them the way that they got each other. A time when they would share everything: clothes, shoes, food, secrets—kisses. Well, little misplaced pecks, more like it; the two of them trying to imitate the images of love and romance they saw everywhere, from their parents to the dramas their mothers would watch on tv to random teenage couples thinking they found a nook or cranny where no one would see them.
What a time that was.
Yeah.
Was.
“Eyyy, Bakubro, what’s up!” Eijirou’s voice rang throughout the common room, and though Katsuki had promptly yelled at him to “shut the fuck up” with the fiercest scowl, the subtle upward curve of his lips told Izuku everything he needed to know.
Katsuki liked Eijirou in a way he didn’t like other people.
And Izuku hated the way that made him feel.
Katsuki wasn’t his. He wasn’t an object to claim, some sort of thing to hold onto—he was his own person. He had been his own person for as long as Izuku had known him, but it seemed like a time was coming where Katsuki didn’t mind being someone else’s.
Izuku watched the way they interacted almost compulsively. All his life, his eyes have only ever followed Katsuki. There had always been enough distance between Katsuki and everyone else that Izuku could zero in on him and forget the rest—but that wasn’t the case with Eijirou.
Nothing was ever the usual case with Eijirou.
“Hey, Midoriya, can I talk to ya for a sec?” Eijirou called out to Izuku one day, all smiles and warm energy. Going into the school year, Izuku admired that about him, he liked that about Eijirou. Eijirou was kind and he didn’t stand for bullshit, he treated Izuku like an equal and that made Izuku feel good. Eijirou was a pro at making people feel good about themselves.
Izuku startled, nonetheless. “Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. What about, Kirishima-kun?”
Eijirou sat next to Izuku in the common room. Izuku was sitting at the dining tables as he was writing in his notebooks about various things to try and keep his mind off the way Katsuki started to lean into Eijirou’s affection–almost like he was expecting it at this point.
Eijirou stammered for a moment. A light blush spread across his cheeks as he rubbed at the back of his head, embarrassed. Izuku had a feeling about where this was going. “So, uh, this might be weird, but…Can I ask you about Bakugou? Like…Do you think we have something good going on?”
Izuku froze. Eyes wide, mouth slightly hung open. His mind and his heart were in a furious race that had no winners. Every single biological process that was going on in his body went into haywire.
“Midoriya?” Eijirou chuckled awkwardly, waving his hand in front of Izuku’s face.
Izuku slowly defrosted, his eyes started darting around and his mouth began moving a mile a minute, saying absolutely nothing comprehensible. “I–I…I, uh, I don’t–” Izuku felt like a fool.
“Chill, Midobro, it’s cool!” Eijirou laughed boisterously this time. “I know you and Bakugou don’t have the best relationship, but at the same time, it feels like nobody understands him better than you do, ya know?”
Izuku exhaled and nodded. “Uh, yeah, I guess. I mean, well, we kind of really had no choice but to know each other, you know?” Izuku and Eijirou shared a small chuckle before Izuku cleared his throat. “But to answer your question, um, from earlier—I, uh, I definitely think Kacchan acts differently around you than he does with other people…And I mean that in a good way…A really good way,”
Eijirou’s eyes brightened at this. “You really mean that?”
Izuku hesitated, but if anyone noticed, it certainly wasn’t Eijirou. “Yeah, I do,”
“Right on, Midobro!” Eijirou’s energy was unmatched afterwards. He left Izuku with an aggressively positive pat on his shoulders before heading over to Katsuki who came down from his dorm room with annoyingly perfect timing.
Izuku couldn’t help but watch as Katsuki’s eyes sought out Eijirou and shone the brightest Izuku’s ever seen them when they caught each other’s gaze. As Eijirou wrapped his arms around Katsuki’s shoulders with ease. As they sat so close to each other they might as well have been sitting on top of each other.
Izuku felt his eyes begin to sting and he knew it was his cue to go. He gathered his notebook and writing materials, said half-hearted evening partings to his friends and other classmates he passed on his way back to his room, and then he cried.
Katsuki wasn’t his. He wasn’t an object to claim, some sort of thing to hold onto—he was his own person. He had been his own person for as long as Izuku had known him, but there had been a time–a very brief period of time–where he was Izuku’s and Izuku’s was his.
But now...Now, Katsuki wasn't his, he was Eijirou's, and despite that fact—despite everything—Izuku would remain Katsuki's.