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It starts with a paper cut.
Izuku swears and sucks on his finger, pulling out the top drawer of his desk to find that his first aid kit is empty and he’ll have to make a special trip down to the kitchen. With a sigh, Izuku gets up from his wheelie-chair, glancing at the clock to find the LED lights blinking back 1:32 AM.
Izuku hisses at himself—both because his finger stings and because he should probably be getting to sleep soon—and stumbles out into the hall where the lights are dim and everything is silent. He trudges to the elevator, eying the handmade Halloween decorations on the wall—construction paper pumpkins and smiling ghosts.
Kacchan had called it a Kindergarten Nightmare, and Izuku had giggled. Actually, he’d been the only one to giggle, and Denki had called him a simp. Blushing just as brightly as he had in that moment, Izuku presses the button on the elevator and waits for the doors to close.
That is when he notices the first sign that something is not right in the U.A. dorms.
The flashing light signals that he’s in the juncture between the first and second floor when the sound of something sharp on metal sends an ear-splitting, metallic sound through the elevator vents.
Izuku releases an audible cry, hands going to his ears. The sound stays until the first floor alarm dings and Izuku makes quick work escaping the elevator. The sound has gone and Izuku peels his hands away from his head, blinking out over the dark living room. None of his classmates are down here—as they wouldn’t be, this late at night.
There’s a storm outside, malevolent and strong. The trees sway behind large glass windows. Izuku watches them for a second, absorbed by the beauty of the tempest, then turns towards the kitchen. Bare feet pad across soft carpet to the linoleum kitchen floors. Izuku pulls open the drawer left of the sink and pulls out the first-aid kit. Unzipping it, he finds his bandages, some Neosporin, too. And then he reaches for the faucet, turning the handle so that cool water pours out.
Except, it’s darker than water.
Goopy with a metallic scent when Izuku leans in closer. He cautiously brings his finger to the faucet, collecting a sample on his skin. He brings it closer, sniffs it, and then a flash of lightning outside has the liquid shining red on Izuku’s skin.
He startles, knowing exactly what it is.
Izuku gags, going to wash it off before remembering where the blood came from. He runs for the refrigerator, thinking maybe there’s some bottled water in there, but freezes when all he finds is a mass of fleshy organs sitting on the middle shelf, dripping blood and bodily fluids onto the linoleum below.
There’s nothing else in that fridge.
Izuku hacks, slamming the door shut and walking backwards towards the counter. He grabs a towel and wipes the blood off his hand when a crack of thunder rolls overhead, followed by the shrillest screech of something sharp on glass.
Izuku jerks towards the sound and finds scratches on the tall, living room windows. A bloody handprint lies beside it.
And Izuku is officially freaked out, his shoulders tense and teeth chattering. A shiver running up his spine, he spins in search of incoming monsters, demons, serial killers— whatever the fuck is making blood pour out of faucets and filling the fridge with organs.
But there’s nothing there and that’s even more alarming. Something rattles, and Izuku follows the sound to the front door, to the knob jiggling against the frame, which is enough.
Without a second thought, Izuku barrels for the stairwell—he’s not getting in the elevator again, all closed spaces and shrieking metal—and hops the steps two at a time. He’s not even thinking, save for how much he hates this, as his bare feet pad against steel and cement.
He hears something scattering up the steps behind him, and that’s too much. He jerks his gaze back, a moment of clarity giving him the forethought to figure out what he is up against.
In his temporary blindness, eyes trained down the stairwell, he collides with something warm and firm and stumbles back. Discombobulated from his lack of sleep and sudden scare, he takes a moment to register the, “What the fuck, Shitty Deku?”
But when he does, it feels like a weight off his shaking shoulders. He looks up at Katsuki, hair mussed from sleep, fists in his eyes as they rub away his grogginess. He’s got this look about him, all effortlessly beautiful in the middle of the night, that makes Izuku forget that he’s in the middle of a crisis.
Katsuki looks down at him, a couple inches taller from the stairs between them, brows knit together in frustrated confusion. “Why the hell are you running up the goddamn staircase at-”
An animalistic scream echoes up the stairwell, the sound of a rabbit being mulled. It makes them both jump, Katsuki’s red eyes widening at Izuku. “The fuck-”
The echo of steps on steel comes next, and whatever is chasing them is getting closer. Izuku grabs Katsuki’s wrist—it’s so warm beneath his palm—looks him in the eye and whispers, “Run.”
They whip up the steps in quick fashion, a race between each other to see who can outrun the unknown beast giving chase. It’s Katsuki who gets ahead, who throws open the second floor door and yells at Izuku to go unlock his dorm.
Izuku shoves into the hallway and Katsuki slams the stairwell door behind him, the crackle of explosions melting the lock so that their pursuer has a hell of a time trying to get through.
The echo of fireworks is a comforting sound in Izuku’s ears as he fumbles with his dorm key, shaking hands forcing it in the lock and turning it just as there’s a bang against the stairwell door and Katsuki backs up towards him.
“Deku…” he warns, hand tense enough that the tendons shine through thick skin.
Izuku slams his bedroom door open, screaming for Katsuki to hurry.
And hurry he does, turning tail and pushing into Izuku’s room. Izuku follows suit and slams the door behind him. He locks it quickly, then presses his ear to the door.
In the back of his mind, he registers that Katsuki does the same, pushing up against the wall and placing his ear on the plaster. Izuku acknowledges the warmth of Katsuki’s chest radiating against him, hears his breath and feels it tickle his nape. There is a part of him that revels in their proximity, a rare occurrence where they share a close space outside of a sparring ring.
That part of Izuku wants to enjoy it, wants to pretend that this is a romantic moment and their lives aren’t being threatened by some Lovecraftian horror.
But there’s a violent slam of a door falling off its hinges, the spine-tingling racket of something sharp scratching along the wall. It lingers for some time, closer and closer until it’s right on top of them and Izuku holds his breath like he’s savoring the last gulp of air he’ll ever take. Katsuki shifts behind him, bicep brushing up against his shoulder blade.
Nerves curl at the ends, his body a mess of electric sparks as the unknown entity travels further down the hall, leaving Izuku to expel a sigh of relief, rigid muscles relaxing into Katsuki’s chest.
“Deku…” Katsuki rumbles, low and intimidating. It reminds Izuku that this is not the moment, that the weird urge to press into his body for comfort and security is not something sorta-friends typically do. Shoulders stiff once more, Izuku leaps forward and jerks around to face Katsuki, a limp smile spreading across his cheeks.
“H-hey, Kacchan.”
“You wanna tell me what the fuck is happening?” Katsuki hisses, brandishing an arm towards the door.
Izuku opens his mouth to answer, closes it when he realizes he’s not exactly sure, then opens it again when he thinks he has an answer. “So, a paper cut…”
Katsuki wallops him on the head, then thunders deeper into the room with a scoff. Izuku stays by the door, rubbing at his skull. “I mean the fucking monster running down the halls, jackass!”
“I was getting to that!” Izuku huffed, puffing his cheeks in discontent as he pressed forward. “I had a paper cut so I went downstairs for a bandaid and the faucet in the kitchen started pouring blood and the refrigerator was full of organs. And then something scratched the window and left a bloody handprint, so I ran, because Aizawa always says we shouldn’t attack without a plan of action, not because I was scared, and-”
Katsuki shoves his hand over Izuku’s mouth, muffling him. Izuku furrows his brows, but Katsuki doesn’t pay him any mind. His fingers are soft on Izuku’s lips; it feels nice.
“I’m not a pussy,” he tells Izuku, eyes flicking towards the drawn curtains of Izuku’s balcony. “And I’m not a sitting duck, either.”
He lets go of Izuku, strutting off to grab the curtains and shove them aside. Izuku follows him with a curious gaze, but is only half-focused now, mind lingering on warm, sweaty hands.
It’s only in his periphery that he sees Katsuki’s shoulders tense. It piques his curiosity enough to carry him back down to earth, where he watches Katsuki draw the curtains tight and whip back towards Izuku. “Change of plans,” he says. “We’re staying here.”
Izuku blinks, tilting his head in a gesture of confusion. “What? What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
It’s not nothing. Katsuki looks startled, pale as the moon. His eyes are wide, darting over to the door every few seconds. Izuku asks him again, “Kacchan, what’s on the balcony?”
He sidesteps Katsuki, using One For All to yank his arm away when Katsuki grabs his wrist in a hurried, bruising grip. Izuku’s fingers bunch in the red, white, and blue curtains.
“Deku, can you just-”
The metal rings slide along the rod, filling the room with a metallic clatter.
The balcony looks normal.
There’s nothing there, but that makes him even more concerned because all he’s seen tonight are things that shouldn’t be. Part of Izuku is afraid he’s going mad. He turns back towards Katsuki, lip quivering. “There’s nothing there, Kacchan.”
Katsuki’s eyes are watery, wider than saucers. He says, “Impossible,” under his breath, then approaches with sure steps. His hand falls over Izuku’s where it’s bunched in the curtains as he looks over his shoulder. “No…” He whispers.
Izuku turns around, facing him with the worry that maybe Katsuki’s gone mad, too. His lips bob—he should say something—but he’s too busy watching the color drain from Katsuki’s face, an uncharacteristic fear taking its place. “Kacchan…”
Katsuki looks down at him, eyes frantically searching for something Izuku can’t place. But then he pulls his hand off Izuku’s as if stung by it, hissing, “I’m not fucking lying, Deku.”
“I- I know-”
“-Do you?” Katsuki asks, taking a step backward. “Because you’re looking at me like I’ve lost my goddamn mind.” Katsuki’s volume rises. Izuku tries to tell him he’s not going crazy, tries to keep him calm, but Katsuki stops him the moment he opens his mouth. “There was a- a fucking body, Deku! A dismembered body with streaks of blood all over the fucking floor! I’m not-”
Katsuki slams the heels of his wrists into his temples and drops to the ground. “C’mon,” he mutters to himself, smacking his head over and over. “Hero. You’re a goddamn hero.”
Izuku feels strange standing there, watching Katsuki as he tries to bring himself down from whatever fit is building. He slowly slides the curtains closed to the sound of Katsuki’s mantra. “Stop being pathetic. You’re a hero. A goddamn hero.”
Of course, he’s a hero. He’s Kacchan. The stars don’t shine as brightly as he does, both the ones in the sky and the ones that Izuku follows on hero forums. Katsuki is the best; he pushed Izuku towards the dorm first, holding off the monster in the stairwell. He tried to hide the balcony from Izuku, like a gentleman does.
It makes Izuku’s heart flutter beneath the stutters of panic. It makes him look down at Katsuki’s crippled form and feel like he needs some comfort too, regardless of if he wants it. “Kacchan-”
“-WHAT, DEKU?”
His voice bounces off the walls, his fury loud enough to sink into the halls outside Izuku’s locked door. Suddenly, the sound of scraping is back, loud and shrill against the wall. Izuku gulps, reaching out to squeeze Katsuki’s shoulder, holding onto him firmly because Katsuki’s scared enough not to scold him.
Izuku can feel his heart in his throat, tastes metallic on his tongue like it’s some precursor to the blood that’ll be spilling out of his mouth later. He holds his breath and waits as the scratches reach his door. There is a pause.
Izuku almost lets his breath escape.
Whatever’s out there slams against the door, and the room shakes. All from one hit, the door nearly gives. A jagged splinter forms in the center and Izuku stares at it in the silent seconds between attacks.
But by the second hit, the splinter has turned into a gaping hole and Izuku can see something moving on the other side. He grabs Katsuki by the arm, yanking him up and dragging him to his closet door.
He pulls him inside and quietly shuts the door behind them, turning the lock with absolute care. The sounds of their attacker hitting the door is muffled now, but it still shakes the floor. Izuku can feel the hardwood creaking beneath his feet.
He’s frozen at the door, waiting for something to come.
Sweaty fingers slide into Izuku’s open hand and grip it tight. Izuku’s breath has been shaky and ragged, but now it hitches because Katsuki is holding his hand willingly. With a gentle tug, Katsuki pulls Izuku further back into the closet, and curls up in a corner where Izuku’s laundry basket half hides them from the door.
There’s a final thud and the sound of something slamming to the floor outside. Izuku suspects it’s his dorm room door finally giving way. He squeezes Katsuki’s hand, desperate for whatever fleeting comfort another person can provide. He hears scraping outside the closet door and turns his head, letting it fall into the crook of Katsuki’s shoulder.
A hand falls on his knee, squeezing it.
“I’m sorry,” Katsuki whispers in his ear, lip trembling with the emotions he tries to keep at bay. “I’m sorry I screamed.”
“-s’okay.” Izuku buries his nose in Katsuki’s muscle tee, inhaling his cinnamon and sandalwood deodorant. It’s calming, it’s comforting. Being beside Katsuki like this makes it all a little better. If they’re going to be devoured by a corporeal nightmare, at least his last moments are with his crush.
At least he can experience having his scent and strong arms surrounding him in his vulnerability.
There’s scratching on the closet door. Izuku holds his breath as tears prickle his eyes. Katsuki buries his nose in curly hair and breathes, “It’s not. We’re gonna fucking die ‘cus of me.”
“-s’okay,” Izuku says again, holding him close. “Not your fault. Just- Just don’t go.”
“Where will I go?”
“Other side of the closet?” Izuku shakes his head the best he can with it still pressed firmly to Katsuki’s chest, the latter’s heartbeat echoing perfectly in his ear. “Just let me hold on to you until it’s over.”
Katsuki stiffens beneath him. “Why?” he asks, voice high and breathy like he can’t believe Izuku could want that.
Izuku shrugs. He can hear the jiggle of the doorknob and puts it out of his mind. Pulling his head from Katsuki’s chest, he looks into watery red eyes. Nibbling on his lip, he says, “You make me feel safe.”
Katsuki’s brow furrows. There’s a knocking on the door, an eerie one that sounds human and foreboding. Izuku squeezes Katsuki’s shirt in his fist and Katsuki says, “You shouldn’t. I’ve never been-”
“-Good to me?” Izuku finishes, shaking his head. “You are, now. I know you’re trying to make amends. And that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve always felt safe with you. I knew that- that even if you hurt me, you were still a hero. That no villain could touch me with you around.
“I’ve always been only yours to hurt,” Izuku mutters. “But I don’t even think you’d do that anymore.”
Katsuki leans back, head thunking lightly against the wall. The rattling of the closet door is louder, more insistent. Izuku knows they don’t have much time left. He knows that they’re going to die, so he watches Katsuki’s face closely. Every twitch of a muscle and curve of a blonde brow. Red eyes flick over Izuku’s face, and Izuku holds onto the knowledge that Katsuki is seeing him.
“I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you, Deku,” Katsuki says. Swears.
Izuku smiles sadly. “I know.”
They’re so close. The rattling has stopped, but a violent pounding has begun. Izuku can hear his door hinges creaking. His eyes water, his hands shake. With a trembling breath, he accepts that this is it, and chooses to go without regrets.
He leans and presses a warm, gentle kiss to Katsuki’s lips. It’s salty with tears and sweat. He reaches up and cups Katsuki’s jaw, savoring the fact that Katsuki doesn’t pull away. Eyes closed, he focuses on the way Katsuki’s trembling lips move against his own, the plushness of them as they work around his bottom lip, as teeth nip him lightly.
Everything is still when Izuku pulls away.
There is no rattling, no violent pounding on his door. Just Katsuki watching him with wide eyes and a wet mouth, lips bobbing without words.
Izuku’s face feels hot. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears and see the look of shock on Katsuki’s face. It’s impossible to believe he did it, improbable that the pining actually turned to a confession, albeit a wordless one.
But Katsuki finally recovers, a soberness coming over him. He lifts a hand to Izuku’s round cheek, his coarse thumb stroking away the tears. He doesn’t say anything quite profound in the following moments, no grandiose confessions.
All he says is, “Me too.”
But that’s enough to let Izuku breathe. It’s enough to let him know that whatever he’s feeling, Katsuki feels it, too. Izuku leans into him, wrapping his arms firmly around Katsuki’s slim waist. He buries his head against his chest, savoring the way Katsuki surrounds him, and only pauses when someone outside his door yells, “That’s a wrap, everyone! Good work!”
Izuku and Katsuki freeze. Pulling away from each other, they share a shocked expression. “That sounds like-”
“RACCOON EYES!” Katsuki jumps from the ground, storming over to the door. He twists the lock and yanks it open to nearly all of Class 1-A standing in Izuku’s dorm. Izuku can see Shouto and Hanta peeking over Katsuki’s shoulder into the closet, trying to get a good look at Izuku.
And at the sight of their friends, Izuku realizes that whatever this was—whatever freakish scenario they’d experienced—it wasn’t real. They aren’t going to die; he’s just kissed Kacchan and gotten a positive reply, meaning maybe the first time they kissed won’t also be their last.
Izuku laughs to himself, not believing his luck.
“What the fuck are you playing at?” Katsuki snaps, lunging forward to grab Mina and Denki by the collars of their pajamas. Ochako weaves past Katsuki into the closet, where she kneels down beside Izuku and asks, “You okay?”
“Fine.”
“-C’mon, Kacchan,” Denki teases. “It’s not like you died.”
“Oh, but there’s gonna be a death tonight,” Katsuki grits, the sparks from his hands making Denki and Mina’s clothes smoke. Izuku should tell him to stop, but he’s too busy smiling to himself.
He lets Eijirou take up the role of managing Katsuki’s temper and turns back to Ochako as she says, “Sorry for scaring you.”
Izuku blinks at her, wiping away his drying tears. “Why’d you do it?”
Ochako shrugs. “Partly ‘cause Katsuki made fun of our Halloween decorations; Mostly because we were all tired of you two tiptoeing around each other. What better way to get some pining idiots to confess than put them in a high-stakes situation.” She smiles awkwardly, maybe realizing just how shaken she’d had them.
Izuku asks, “How’d you do it?” as Katsuki reprimands their classmates outside the closet.
Ochako shrugs. “Teamwork. Aizawa gave us permission and Vlad King let us take some blood from his stores. Kirishima ordered the meat from his contact at the Butcher’s ‘cause he’s a freak. Todoroki paid to have the plumbing rerouted temporarily. The scratching was pretty simple, just needed something sharp. Jirou made the elevator squeak and her and Shoji listened to let us know when you all finally confessed.”
She counts them off on her fingers, eyes cast up towards the ceiling in a show of her concentration. “Um, Satou slammed down the doors and Yaomomo’s gonna make you new ones. Kouta is surprisingly not only good at talking to animals, but mimicking their sounds, too; so we used him for the screams in the stairwell. Oh! And we borrowed Setsuna from 1-B to pose as a dismembered body on your balcony.”
Izuku whistles, because that’s a lot. “You… you actually got Aizawa to sign off on this?”
Ochako shrugs, nodding from him to Katsuki. “He was getting tired of the tension,” she says. Izuku nods, understanding the sentiment but secretly wondering how bad his romantic life had to be for a teacher to get involved.
Ochako claps him on the shoulder, then helps him up from the floor. As they walk out of the closet, Izuku asks, “How’d you get Iida to agree?”
Ochako sucks her teeth. “He’s… tied up right now.”
Izuku thinks she just might mean literally.
Eventually, Izuku ushers them all out of his room. It doesn’t take long to hook a new door on its hinges. Apparently, while the rest of the class had been scaring him shitless, Momo had been stockpiling snacks for this moment. With Rikido and Mezo to help hold it in place, they screw the door into the wall and then wish Izuku and Katsuki a good night. Eijirou and Hanta drag Denki and Mina back to their dorms, both dazed from the lecture Katsuki laid on them.
In the dim light and silence of the early morning, Izuku and Katsuki are left alone to hover in the threshold of Izuku’s new door. They stand there for a long moment, eyes lingering on the corner their friends had disappeared behind.
Izuku is overwhelmingly aware of Katsuki’s presence, of the way the back of his hand brushes against Izuku’s and the way his breathing steadies. There is a long, drawn out moment before Katsuki turns to face him, cheeks a healthy pink. His eyes keep darting over Izuku’s face, but they never settle. “I haven’t been awake this late in damn near six months,” he says, trying to laugh off how nerdy that sounds.
Izuku smiles softly at him, nodding. “I’m pretty tired, too.”
Katsuki nods, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Alright, then. Er, bye.” He spins on his heels and heads for the elevator.
He only makes it a few steps, though, before Izuku is panicking that when he says ‘bye’, he means forever. He means that that moment in the closet wasn’t as important as Izuku thought.
So, Izuku shouts, “Wait!” and watches as Katsuki jerks around instantly, eyebrows up to his hairline as Izuku stutters out, “Um- it’s- well, you’re already here. And tonight’s been- Tonight’s been kinda scary.” Izuku nods towards his bedroom. “Do you want to stay over?”
Katsuki smiles, canines peeking out of a wide mouth. He turns all the way around and walks casually back towards Izuku, before placing his hand on the doorframe above Izuku’s head. “So, you meant it?”
Izuku’s eyes flicker down to Katsuki’s lips. “Of course, I did.”
Tension falls from Katsuki’s shoulders. He leans in to peck a kiss against Izuku’s cheek, then drops his head to his shoulder. “Thank fuck.”
Izuku burns hot at those words, at the realization that Katsuki was just as worried as he was. Strong arms encircle Izuku’s waist and he feels warm. He feels happy. The terrors of the night feel like distant memories as Izuku stumbles back into his room with Katsuki adhered to his side. Katsuki kicks the door closed behind them, the last image visible to the hallway being Katsuki’s strong hands cupping Izuku’s cheeks and a gentle kiss being pressed to puckered lips.