Archive of Our Own

Katsuki had no idea that silence could ever be so loud as this as he sat with his back pressed against the cool wall in almost complete darkness. The only light in the empty hallways came from the emergency exit sign above the staircase, casting a sickly green glow over his already pallid skin. He held one hand up in front of him, fingers undulating like a wave, watching the green catch upon the surface of each in turn. The fine blond hairs above each second knuckle seemed to shimmer, casting the smallest reflections against the dull eyes that stared, watery and transfixed. Perhaps he hoped that, should he look hard enough, the noise in his brain might eventually go quiet. But in reality, with every digit wave, the static grew steadily to a scream.

For the longest time, he hated the colour green. His mother always said that it looked good on him; adorning him in bottle green sweatshirts, and shorts the colour of a turquoise ocean in summer, until Katsuki was old enough to replace the nauseating shades with blacks and umbers of his own. Green seemed to haunt him anyway. Following him wherever he went, painted across the billboards that lined every track he followed, until looking at it brought a wave of nostalgia that tasted far more bitter than sweet. The greatest irony was that looking away always hurt so much more.

Katsuki took a deep breath, finally letting his hand drop back to his lap and resting his head against the wall. He was tired. He hadn’t exerted himself even close to the amount he was used to, and yet his body ached as if he had taken on the entire League himself; the throbbing heat in his shoulder and stomach warned him not to be so reckless again. Katsuki thought the wound that had burst his appendix and spilt the contents of his intestines into the bruised and busted caves of his torso would be the one to cause him the most trouble, and yet it was his shoulder that had held him back today. He hadn’t been able to keep up. He was falling further and further behind his classmates with each passing day, and truthfully he was too exhausted to think about it. There was a chance that he had already peaked, and that his injuries were simply too severe for him to ever use his quirk to its full capacity again. Perhaps more alarming than the damage itself was how little he seemed to care.

He allowed his eyes to fall shut, somehow still feeling that sickly green light on his face even though he could no longer see it. Today had been close, too close. Izuku had been seconds away from escaping them; if he had been but a few more inches ahead then not even Iida could have caught hold of him, and their efforts would have been for nothing. Katsuki wasn’t sure what it would take to convince him to stay, and he hadn’t planned on apologising to him in that way. It seemed unfair to have forced that moment onto Izuku when all their classmates had been there to witness it, to make it harder for him to push Katsuki away and reject him if he had wanted to. Even now, Katsuki wondered if Izuku resented him for it. But Katsuki had needed him to say. Needed him to listen. He couldn’t have watched Izuku walk away from them and remain sane afterwards, and he knew that he would have done anything to prevent that from happening. Perhaps they had acted selfishly, but for better or worse Izuku was no longer on the run, and instead asleep inside the room that Katsuki guarded.

The rest of the class assumed that he had gone to bed already, empathetic looks in his direction as he shuffled off with one hand pressed against the fresh bandaging wrapped around his shoulder. But, the truth was that Katsuki wasn’t sure he’d be sleeping any time soon. There was enough security in UA for them to feel confident that Izuku couldn’t slip away again without someone seeing, but the thought of leaving him alone for an instant was nothing short of insane to Katsuki. If it meant he spend the next week sitting beside Izuku’s door on the hard uncomfortable floor, then so-fucking-be-it. He owed Izuku that much at least. Plus, it gave him space. And space was something he desperately needed right now.

“Bakugou?”

His eyes snapped open. A figure cast a dark shadow over him, smothering the green lightning, Katsuki was curiously irritated by its absence for a moment. He looked toward the staircase, gaze falling upon a familiar bob cut and wide curious eyes; it was always a little crazy how much she could resemble Izuku in the right setting.

“What’re you doing here, Cheeks?” Katsuki asked, deliberately keeping his voice a low, harsh whisper, determined not to wake the boy sleeping a wall away from him.

“What are you doing here?” Uraraka countered, her voice equally hushed. “Why are you sleeping on the floor?”

“Wasn’t sleeping,” Katsuki replied. “Just… resting my eyes.”

She smiled ever so softly, and Katsuki wanted to scowl back. But he was far too tired even for that, just staring numbly in her direction.

“What are you doing here?” he repeated.

Uraraka hesitated just a moment, her eyes drifting from Katsuki sitting on the floor to the door a few inches to his left, and all at once, Katsuki understood.

“Oh,” he said, surprised at the coldness in his tone. “Right.”

Uraraka’s brow rose, cheeks somehow burning pinker under the ugly green light.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Katsuki wasn’t sure, not exactly. But, he definitely wasn’t an idiot, and despite appearances, he had always been incredibly observant when it came to certain members of his class. Uraraka and Izuku were friends, of course; it seemed they had been from day one, she offering Izuku what Katsuki had denied him for so long. But at some stage, it seemed like it had become more than that, and he saw in Uraraka the kind of desperation that he was grossly familiar with. That look on her damn face, despite being so alien to his own, was one that he understood in a heartbeat. That was the kind of shit that Deku did to people; the moment he saw that dawning revelation on Uraraka’s dull round face a part of him wanted to take her aside, scoff the words ‘first time, huh?’ before bodily launching her into fucking space.

Yeh, green was an ugly colour.

“He’s sleeping,” Katsuki found himself saying. Uraraka shook her head before she pulled her phone from her pocket.

“I already text him.”

Oh.

The frown finally found its way back to his face, and a strange kind of panic crept through his chest. He knew he was in no damn position to keep Izuku from anyone, certainly not from the person who had been a far better friend to him than he had ever been. But he felt a wild, desperate need to do so anyway. And for what purpose? Uraraka was Izuku’s friend, and if he wanted to see her then what exactly was Katsuki doing having any kind of opinion on it? And yet, he knew… knew the real reason he didn’t want to let her inside that room.

Ever since he had been a child, he had been the kind of all he surveyed, and Izuku had been part of his kingdom; a treasure, that he guarded through the compulsion to simply own, never really understanding its value. And no one had ever threatened to unseat him from his throne and take his treasure from him. Not until now.

And maybe… that was a good thing. For Izuku at least.

“You sure this is the right time?” Katsuki asked.

Because he still couldn’t let it go without a fight.

Uraraka’s expression tightened, eyes daring nervously to the shut door.

“What do you mean?” she repeated, her voice so quiet that Katsuki barely heard it.

“Maybe you don’t plan on saying anything now,” Katsuki replied, “but you will.”

He sighed again, the impulsive panic fading almost as quickly as it came. The resignation that took its place was far more painful, however, and he shut his eyes again.

“You wanna tell him that you’re worried about him,” he continued, voice dull and monotonous. “You wanna tell him that, despite how much of a pain in the fucking ass he is, you missed him when he were gone.”

Uraraka took a sharp intake of breath.

“You know,” she whispered.

“Yeh.”

“H-how long?”

Katsuki shrugged and watched the colour dance across his eyelids.

“I dunno. This whole year maybe. It don’t matter.”

He heard the soft footfalls against the floor, one eye opening in surprise when he felt soft fabric brush briefly against his elbow, looking over to see Uraraka sitting on the floor beside him. The green glow made her look every bit as ugly as it did him; sallow, small, uncertain.

“How… How do I tell him?”

Katsuki opened his mouth to respond, before realising he had no fucking idea what to say. Uraraka was asking him for advice. Advice on how to confess to Deku of all fucking people, and all he wanted in the world was to recoil, shrink away, crawl into Izuku’s room and bar the door like he were a damn dog. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the spark of a challenge; he had looked for it every fucking day of his life. And yet, this challenge wasn’t like anything he had experienced before. Perhaps it was because he seemed to be the only one between the two of them that realised they were fighting a battle, to begin with.

Perhaps it was because he knew that he didn’t deserve to win.

“I-I’ve never done anything like this before,” Uraraka whispered, staring down at her hands.

“What makes you think I have?” Katsuki replied shortly. “Don’t ask me for advice on his, Cheeks. Don’t you fucking ask me about this.”

“But I don’t have anyone else to ask,” Uraraka replied. “Bakugou, you know him better than anyone, right?”

Katsuki’s heart thudded painfully in his chest.

“I don’t-” his voice caught in his throat and he scowled again. This didn’t feel right. None of it felt right. It hurt. Izuku was… what? Was his? That’s not how this worked, even he fucking knew that.

Things can’t be like they were before.

He sighed.

“Just… be honest,” he said, finally. “He’s a self-sacrificial bastard with a death wish. He’s never taken himself into account, never valued his own damn life as highly as he anyone else. Fuck, even now he probably thinks that damn quirk is worth more than he is, probably wouldn’t hesitate to do something stupid if it meant protecting the fucking thing. He’s the smartest idiot you’ve ever met, I can guarantee that, and being near him is idiotic. It’s fucking stupid to want anything to do with the bastard.”

He took a deep breath.

“And yet, you wanna anyway. Shit, even in the state he’s in you still can’t help but feel… fuck, hopeful, when he looked at you. Even with the world falling apart, with the odds against him, with all the shit he’s had to put up with his entire life, he still looks at you with this kindness you don’t deserve. None of us fucking do. He’s too fucking bright to stand beside but… but you’ll try to anyway.”

A silence fell over the both of them, Katsuki staring at his green fingers.

“Whatever it is you have to say to him, just say it. He’ll listen if it’s you.”

“Bakugou…”

Uraraka sounded quieter than ever, his name a whisper in the stagnant air before an unfamiliar softness pressed against his bare arm. He flinched away immediately, scowling in her direction.

“How long?” Uraraka asked, looking back at him, the expression on her face making him feel sick. Pity, fucking pity.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he said, voice harsher and a little louder.

“How long have you been in love with him too”?

The screaming in his ears grew unbearable, the very air in his lungs turning to ice, freezing his chest until he was unable to take a single breath.

In love? In love? This wasn’t love. This was fucking possession. Izuku had grabbed hold of his heart and had been holding it fucking hostage for as long as he had known him, slowly squeezing the light out of with every passing glance, every gentle ‘Kacchan’ that both of them knew he didn’t fucking deserve. Katsuki was sure love wasn’t supposed to hurt like this. Something so beautiful as love wasn’t supposed to make something so ugly of those that it touched. Katsuki wasn’t in love. Katsuki was fucking dying.

Katsuki didn’t say anything, not for several long moments, and that seemed to be enough to confirm Uraraka’s concerns. She lifted a shaky palm to her face, pushing the strands of hair back.

“I suppose it all makes sense now.”

“What?” Katsuki choked, still struggling to breathe over the ice in his lungs.

“So… what do we do about this? Bakugou, I don’t want to hurt you-”

“You won’t,” Katsuki snapped. “I mean- you can’t. There’s nothing- there’s nothing fucking there, Pink Cheeks. You got it fucking wrong.”

He got to his feet, shoving his shaking hands into the pockets of his uniform, still damp and covered in mud.

“Don’t be an idiot,” he hissed, furious. “Tell him how you feel. I don’t care.”

The lie burned on its way up, scorched his throat, the fumes bringing tears to his eyes, and he stormed off, not looking back, not risking a chance that Uraraka would see the look on his ugly green face. He didn’t need her pity, but most of all he didn’t need her thinking that she knew him, that she had any idea of the battle that was waging in his heart. Katsuki hated to lose, but more than that he hated to lose a fight that he had already thought had been won. If he had not been so proud and so cruel, if he had not let his inner fires grow so large that they burned away the hope and happiness of the one person who stood a chance at taming them, then Katsuki wouldn’t be here. He would be the one tending to Izuku’s wounds, brushing back his hair as he slept, confessing his feelings with soft whispers and even softer touches. It would be him. It should be him. Not her. Not her.

He grits his teeth, taking the steps two at a time as he all but ran to his room, the pressure bubbling over, almost entirely unable to see the ground in front of him through the thick ugly tears clinging to his eyelashes, the kind that he knew from experience would be tearing painful, wracking sobs from his throat even as he clutched at it. It was sheer dumb luck that there was no one else in the halls, and that no one was woken by the sound of his feet hitting the floor as he threw himself at his door, fumbling with the lock and falling inside. He had barely made it to his bed before he bit down on the back of his wrist, desperate to keep the pain inside even as the tears spilt down his cheeks.

It had been a long time since he had last cried like this. Even when he had confessed his feelings of guilt surrounding All Might he had not cried this hard, biting his pillowcase when the agony in his wrist grew too much to bear. And how pathetic he felt, crying over a boy that was never his, that even if he ever had been, it was Katsuki and Katsuki alone responsible for pushing him away. A sad, pitiful part of him chanted the same words over, ‘but I apologised, I apologised, I told him I told him I told him’, and no matter how much he wanted to ignore it, he wouldn’t. Because, despite the wound in his gut, and the scars making their mark on his skin, he was still just a child. He was still a seventeen-year-old kid inexperienced to the torment of an unrequited love that he had been harbouring through the most difficult years of his life. He was a child, so used to getting what he wanted, realising for the first time that the world was done offering him every delicacy on a golden platter.

Because, what he wanted, was Izuku. He wanted that colour burned into his eyes so that everything he looked at was green. But he had ruined his chances, and he sure as shit didn’t deserve another.

He sobbed into his pillow until the tears stopped flowing and his head pounded, eyes so red and so sore that he knew there would be no way he could hide it from his classmates come the morning. He sat up, brushing away the salt that clung his to skin, rotating his pillow as if hiding the wet patch would preserve even an iota of his dignity, before his phone, abandoned on his desk earlier in the day, vibrated its way across the poor excuse for homework. He debated ignoring it, after all, it had to be late, and he was justified at any stage in his life to ignore his hag of a mother, then it would be tonight, but still, he found his hand automatically reaching forward.

His heart thudded again at the name on the green screen, his phone continuing to vibrate in his hand.

Deku.

His hands work quicker than his brain, thumb sliding over the screen and holding the phone up to his ear, wincing at how rough and awful his voice sounded when he spoke.

“Deku?”

There was a moment of silence on the other line, Katsuki pulling the phone away and checking that he hadn’t accidentally hung up before Deku’s voice finally filled his dark and miserable room.

“Kacchan? You sound terrible.”

Katsuki hated how quickly his pain was forgotten, all that misery erased in the light of the smallest hint of hope that Izuku had not replaced him entirely.

“Yeh, well you just fucking woke me up,” Katsuki replied, trying in vain to sound normal. “What you think I’m gonna sound like?”

“Oh,” Izuku said. “I-I’m sorry.”

Katsuki flinched.

“No- shit, it’s fine. What’s going on?” He sat up straighter. “Ball Sack ain’t come out of hiding already, has he?”

“No, no it’s nothing like that!” Izuku replied. “I just… uh, well Uraraka was here and…”

Izuku trailed off, and just like that Katsuki felt the desire to slink back into his covers growing again, the blood in his veins tar thick for all the good it seemed to be doing him, face growing pale and the hair on the pack of his neck standing on end.

“Look, Deku, I know I apologised and shit but we ain’t so fucking close I wanna talk about that.”

“Huh? What do you- oh! Oh my god! No-nothing like th-that!” Izuku all but shrieked down the phone. “She wasn’t here long- I mean, even if she had that doesn’t mean- we’re just friends! I don’t see her like that! I don’t think? Oh… oh my god what if she thinks..? Should I have said something? No, no Uraraka can’t think of me like that- does she? No-”

“Deku,” Katsuki said in a low growl, reaching up to rub his already aching temple.

“R-right, sorry. You didn’t need to hear all that.”

‘I don’t see her like that!’ Nah, Katsuki really didn’t need to hear that at all.

“Just stop freaking out and tell me why you’re calling me in the middle of the damn night.”

“Right,” Izuku repeated. “It’s just… Uraraka was here and she got me thinking about some things and…” He took a deep breath, Katsuki pressing the phone closer to his ear. “Thank you.”

Katsuki blinked.

“Hah?”

“For coming to get me. Uraraka said how you organised most of it, and I guess… thank you. For still caring.”

Katuski shut his eyes. Uraraka. That sly witch.

“Of course I care, De-Izuku,” Katsuki replied. “Think I could let you stay out there alone getting all the glory?” He winced at his own words, wondering at how he still couldn’t just do away with the bullshit for even a moment, before Izuku laughed, brightly and honestly, and chased all those doubts away.

“Yeh, because I was definitely going to get good rankings looking like that,” he said.

“ Smelling like that,” Katsuki scoffed. “I ain’t smelled anything that bad since I last walked into Sero’s room to smack him in the face with fucking deo.”

Izuku laughed again, and Katsuki leaned back onto his bed, just able to make out his ceiling from the moonlight filtering through the cracks in his blackout curtains.

“It’s more than that, though,” Izuku said. “I didn’t get a chance to say anything after but… for apologising. Thank you. I know it can’t have been easy for you to do and I… it means a lot, Kacchan. Thank you.”

Katsuki's heart beat so fast that he pressed his hand to his chest as if to calm it. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Izuku,” he said. “It was long overdue. I shouldn’t’ve been such a chicken shit waiting until you were literally almost passed out from exhaustion and couldn’t punch me in the face.”

“I mean it, Kacchan,” Izuku breathed. “You said it didn’t have to change anything but… I want it to. After all this, I mean, when everything’s over it… It would really mean a lot to me if we tried again. To be friends. To have each other’s back like… like things used to be.”

Katsuki knew he was crying again, the tears dripping silently down the side of his face and soaking the dry side of his pillow.

“Yeh,” he replied, voice barely a whisper. “Yeh, I’d like that, nerd.”

“Ok,” Izuku said, sounding relieved. “Ok, that’s great.”

“Yeh.”

“Well, I’ll, uh, let you get back to sleep then. Goodnight, Kacchan.”

“Yeh, night nerd.”

Izuku hung up, and Katsuki still clung to the phone, almost like he could feel the warmth emanating from it through the echoes of Izuku’s voice. Because, no matter how pragmatic he wanted to be about this, he could not fight the weightlessness of his limbs or the way his heartbeat seemed to sing, lips spread into the most honest smile that had graced it in many months. The green from his phone screen danced over his cheeks, and he allowed himself to bask in it.

Green was a beautiful colour.