Archive of Our Own ^beta

It hits him on an ordinary day.

They pass each other in the common room and the blond spares him a glance followed by a hint of a smile. Blink and you’ll miss it. He shoves Izuku for good measure, but it’s playful now, gentle even. It has been for a while actually. The aggression and hostility that painted their interactions once upon a time are long gone.

The brief contact, however, still has repercussions. Izuku feels an oddly familiar electricity dancing on his skin and for a moment incredulously wonders if he’s activated his quirk. There are no tell-tale emerald-tinged sparks though, just a swooping sensation in the pit of his stomach. His eyes widen and he turns to look at Katsuki slouching away, hands stuffed in his pockets as usual.

A completely ordinary scene on an ordinary day and yet, his heart is racing a mile a minute. Izuku brings up a slightly shaky palm to his chest and lightly clenches the front of his shirt. He’s not sure what caused the dam to finally break now, after everything they’ve been through, but he can’t deny the effect it has on him. The effect he has on him.

It doesn’t sink into him gradually, instead the finality of the long overdue epiphany slams into him from all sides and knocks the wind out of his lungs. It’s the last piece of the puzzle, and it fits so beautifully but the picture it creates is terrifying.

The picture of a never-ending chase. 

Honestly, he has no complaints. After the turmoil of fighting – and winning – a literal war, even mundane days like this feel like a blessing. It was a little jarring at first, to try to live life as a student again after all that but he’s also thankful for getting the chance to enjoy his last year at UA before getting thrown into the real world again. Besides, it feels like they’ve more than earned it, having been forced to grow up so quickly already. However, an idle mind as they say—

“Fuckin’ Deku! The fuck are you spacin’ out for, huh? Keep your eyes on me, you damned nerd!”

“R-right! Sorry, Kacchan…”, Izuku winces at the impact of the blow and simultaneously feels thrilled by the contact. He’s starting to feel like he doesn’t have the emotional capacity to handle all the different ways Katsuki makes him feel anymore. Even his usual taunts sound different now, and it takes all he has not to immediately start overthinking and overanalyzing the cadence and intonation of the blond’s flippant comment. The irony is not lost on him that the cause of his distraction is currently berating him for getting distracted. Sensing Katsuki’s growing displeasure, however, he steels himself to face his opponent and take their sparring match more seriously.  

They go at it for another twenty minutes and eventually Izuku concedes defeat. Katsuki sneers at the loss but still yanks him up off the ground good-naturedly. They sit in comfortable silence for a bit, and Izuku sneaks a glance while fiddling with the cap of his water bottle. The fact that they’ve managed to work through so much of their past to be able to sit together like this, as friends and equals is more than he’s ever imagined. So, for him to start wanting more than that seems almost laughable. Besides, there’s no way that these misguided feelings are mutual. Of that, he is somehow absolutely certain. Never mind that the certainty seems like it might choke him but it’s not like he can suddenly go back to being ignorant. No matter how strong their connection is, and no matter how strong his feelings are…he knows he will never bridge that gap.

He recalls his mother telling him about the red threads of fate and how they can twist, stretch, or tangle, but never break. A romantic notion, yet equally tragic. For how does one reconcile the inherent inability to escape the orbit of the only one who will never return your affections? And if it cannot be received, then where does the love go? How far can you wander, irrefutably tethered as you are by the thread that just won’t snap? 

It’s a wretched realization; a feeling that it’s over before it’s really begun. And despite having already carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, it feels like living with this might be the biggest burden of all. The unshakeable knowledge that no matter how close they get, they’ll never meet; for the same thread that validates their connection also maintains the distance between their hearts.  

“Oi, shithead! You comin’ or what?”

Izuku raises his head, and viridian meets amber. Despite himself, the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

“Coming, Kacchan!”

As he catches up and catches a rare glimpse of Katsuki’s own grin, Izuku thinks that maybe it isn’t the worst trade-off in the world. 

It’s not that he’s never thought about romance.

He’s still a regular teenage boy, and UA is nothing if not filled with strong, attractive people. In the aftermath of the war, a lot of pairings have seemingly sprouted out of nowhere. The close shave with death seems to have changed a lot of people’s priorities, and Izuku for one can understand not wanting to have any more regrets. Some couples have taken to obnoxiously shoving their love in everyone’s face, unable to contain their newfound freedom to express themselves whereas others display it more quietly, content to simply be in the presence of their significant other as they navigate their daily routines together. Looking back, Izuku concedes that were he more observant he might have also seen some of these coming from “a mile away”, as Ashido put it, because in the wake of their announcement they just seem so… natural.

“Deku-kun! There you are!” Uraraka’s smiling face looms into view, and he only slightly jumps. As he turns to listen to her enthusiastically prattle on about something, Izuku considers her. By now, even he has caught on to her feelings, which shouldn’t be that surprising seeing how she makes less of an effort to hide them. Then again, he has been accused of being “unfathomably oblivious” and given his track record, it’s hard to disagree with that assessment. As he takes in her warmth and allows himself to relax in her vicinity, he almost envies Uraraka for her ability to freely express herself now in a way that, despite finally recognizing it within himself, he is utterly unable to do. At the same time, he wonders if he should also be grateful for the fact that she hasn’t put him on the spot regarding this. Well…yet.

“You’re totally spacing out again, aren't you?” Izuku blinks and with a bit of effort, refocuses his attention on Uraraka’s snickering face.

“Sorry,” he mutters bashfully.

“Say, Deku-kun,” her expression suddenly gets a little more serious, “Have you ever gone to the amusement park?”

“Oh, Midooooriyaaaa~! A little birdie told me you’re going on a D-A-T-E with a certain U-ra-vi-“

“Ahhh, not so loud, Ashido-san!” Izuku flusters, waving his hands wildly in front of his face, and nervously looking around to make sure they’re not being overheard.

 Ashido continues to grin devilishly at him, unbothered by his antics.

“B-Besides, it’s not a date or anything…” he mumbles, the patchy blush peppering his already freckled cheeks not helping his case. “We’re not like that.”

“And why not?” She throws out flippantly.

“Ashido-san, I…” he pauses, and his shoulders sink a little as he lets out a sigh. Suddenly, the nagging question rises up from the pit in his stomach and forces its way out his lips, “How did you know?”

“Huh? Know what?” Ashido cocks her head and blinks at him owlishly.

“You know, that…that he was the one you wanted to be with. Kirishima-kun.” He glances up and down nervously, now mildly worried about overstepping.

“Ah, you mean about Ei?” Her expression softens and her already pink cheeks take on a rosier hue, “Well, we have known each other a long time, of course. I don’t know that there’s anyone else I’m more comfortable with. And like, we just work, y’know?”

“I-I see.”

Izuku contemplates this information and thinks back to a lifetime of memories with his own childhood friend. They do seem to meet the above criteria, however, even if they are on better terms now, it would be insane for Izuku to think that Katsuki could look at him any differently. After all, considering how he always spoke his mind, if it were true, he’d have said something by now, wouldn’t he?

“But how can you tell if,” Izuku blurts out hotly anyway, “…if they feel the same?”

“Midoriya,” Ashido steps closer, a more concerned look on her face now, “Are you really that dense? Come on, it’s obvious she likes you! Just go out already!”

Izuku forces his features into a weak imitation of a smile as he remembers who they’re actually talking about.

“Thanks for talking to me, Ashido-san.” He finally manages, and then quickly excuses himself.

As he paces around the corner, brow furrowed deep, chin pinched between his fingers and the usual stream of muttering escaping his mouth, all at once, the world goes dark and—

“Fuck! Watch where you’re going, asshole! Oh, it’s you, Deku.”

Katsuki roughly grabs his shoulder and steadies him, somehow possessing the dexterity to prevent either of them from falling down from the sudden collision. Izuku’s head snaps up at the touch, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape as his brain catches up to the situation. He gulps, trying to settle down his rapidly accelerating heart rate through sheer willpower alone. It doesn’t seem to be working very well. Katsuki in turn raises an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to speak.

“S-Sorry, Kacchan. I wasn’t looking where I was going, so…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Huh?”

“Well, obviously you’ve got something rattling around in that nerd brain of yours to the point that you can’t even use your damn eyes as intended. So? What is it?”

Izuku flushes at the straightforward question. He’s also painfully aware that Katsuki hasn’t yet let go of his arm and has now stepped uncomfortably closer, staring him down with those unrelenting eyes, daring him to say it, to speak his truth .

“I—“

Tears start pricking at the corners of his eyes – and God, does he have to be such a crybaby? – and he shamefully hangs his head, trying hard to blink them away, unable to meet the unwavering gaze of the boy right in front of him. The one who is so close, but always just out of reach. The one who has always been there, his constant. The one who always sees right through him, like even right now, in this moment.

The one he couldn’t help falling for.

The renewed force of that realization tears Izuku apart from the inside all over again, and no amount of self-discipline, arduous days and nights of training, or even nearly mastering his quirk in all its different shapes and forms could prepare him for the sensory overload this man’s mere existence provides him.

“Izuku,” The hitherto gruff voice slips into a gentler cadence, almost pleading, and Izuku can barely stand to hear it. “Look at me.”

He used to think it was hard to have Katsuki keep him at arm’s length, but it is somehow much, much harder to have him here, just a breath away. Then, as if he wasn’t already choking on his chaotic emotions, a long, slender finger hooks under his chin and lifts it up slowly, effectively emptying his lungs of whatever air was left in them.  

Izuku is not prepared for the expression that meets him. He’s not even sure how to describe it since he has never seen that look in the other boy’s eyes before in his life. The former intensity is gone, instead, he looks a little tired, almost resigned, yet still deeply questioning, and…something else. It takes him much too long to realize that the hand that is not holding his chin up is pressed flat against his chest.

“Hey. It’s okay. Breathe.” Katsuki instructs firmly, but not unkindly, and Izuku is so overwhelmed at the gesture that he is about to dissolve into a fresh wave of tears, because what did he do to deserve this? The blond seems to recognize this impulse because his pupils dilate for a fraction of a second, and then without warning, he lets go of his face and grabs Izuku’s shaking hand and places it on his own chest, the warmth and steady heartbeat instantly seeping through.

“It hasn’t been that long, y’know.” Katsuki points out, quietly. Izuku tilts his head questioningly, not quite following. “I mean, it all worked out in the end, but it was less than a year ago, Izuku. Having pani— what I’m saying is, it’s normal for you to still be on guard, especially since you’re such a shitty overthinker, you nerd.” He grins, the seemingly harsh words not hiding the fact that he’s trying to ease the tension, in his own Kacchan-esque way. That garners a watery laugh from Izuku, who is already starting to calm down, even while being acutely aware of the closeness and contact between them right now. Katsuki hasn’t quite hit the nail on the head – something Izuku is begrudgingly thankful for – but he’s still managed to cheer him up, the way only he can. The irony of it all still stuns him, it almost feels like a dream. Although, he muses bitterly, the real dream would be imagining that it could ever be anything more than this.

Not wanting to appear morose again, he shakes his head a couple of times to snap out of it and makes wide-eyed, sincere eye contact with Katsuki, who also seems to be relaxing a little now.

“Thank you, Kacchan.”

“No problem, nerd. Stop brooding and go get some sleep or something.”

He playfully gives Izuku a noogie, which earns a half-hearted ‘Kacchan!’ out of him, and then saunters away. Izuku lets his eyes follow the movement until he’s out of sight (just never out of mind, right?) and finally lets out a slow exhale. It really is time to shut his brain off for the day.

As he starts to succumb to sleep, he recalls his earlier conversation with Ashido and tries not to think about the one question he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

She hits him with it on an ordinary day.

Her confession is short and sweet, much like Uraraka herself.

Despite not being completely blindsided by this confrontation, Izuku still feels the warmth creeping up his face and neck at her blatant words. He parts his lips in hesitation and anxiously ponders his response. She smiles at him kindly and earnestly, and the simple gesture puts him at ease and allows the intrusive thought to slip through the crevices of his mind.

Would it really be so bad to accept her?

Green eyes widen slightly at the notion and as his vision blurs, Izuku pauses, considering. His mind races furiously from the effort of processing a million different conflicting emotions but a tiny voice that keeps steadily getting louder urges him to act, telling him that there’s really no reason to say no, even though his mouth dries up at the prospect of saying yes. What would it really change anyway?

“…I don’t expect this to change a thing between us…”

Well, there’s his answer.

Uraraka’s hazy outline finally shifts into focus and with the tiniest of nods, Izuku lets her flood his vision, his space, his senses.

(He ignores the pang in his chest, and she ignores the smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.)

“So, you and round-face, huh.” 

It’s not a question. It’s not even really a statement. It could be an accusation. Whatever it is, it’s certainly not an invitation to aggravate the boy currently invading his space any further, if the scowl adorning his features is any indication. Izuku simply stares, opting to wait it out and hoping that this interaction comes to an end quickly. This only seems to anger Katsuki even more as his expression of displeasure intensifies. For some reason, Izuku finds, this irks him.

“What’s it to you, Kacchan?”, he spits out bitterly before he can stop himself.

Katsuki’s eyes narrow dangerously, and if he’s taken aback by the unexpected retort, he doesn’t let on. Struggling to maintain eye contact after his uncontrolled outburst, Izuku tightens his jaw and waits for the inevitable insult, snarky remark, or intrusive follow-up question to come.

It never does.

Something flickers in those red eyes, but it’s gone too quickly to decipher.  

“Tch.”

He finally shoves past Izuku – roughly this time – and for once, neither one turns to look back.

Their friends predictably rejoice at the news, and eventually, the teasing dies down too. The days pass by in comfortable monotony, and Izuku is nearly convinced that he could get used to it. She’s a great friend and a great partner, and sometimes if he stares into those shining orbs of sunshine and caramel long enough, he can almost forget the slight tint of golden reflected in amber.

(It’s not like it’s burned into the back of his eyelids or anything.)

They’re open. They’re close.

They work.

It’s everything he could possibly want. It’s all that he could ever need.

This is enough.

Until one day it isn’t.

He jolts upright in his bed, eyes blown wide open, breathing ragged, sheets soaked in his sweat. The nightmares always find a way to come back, even on his best days. The worst part is, he’s not even sure they quite classify as nightmares since these are actual memories of his, just with the horror setting dialed up to a ten. This particular memory puts him into a near frenzied state and without thinking he grabs his phone from the nightstand and dials in a number.

“… what? ”

“K-Ka—,” A gulp as he struggles to say the name. Now the sobs are about to kick in.

“Hang on.”

Izuku hears the click of the call being cut but still keeps the phone on his ear, now completely paralyzed from head to toe. Unblinkingly, his wide eyes fixate on a spot near All Might’s signature grin plastered all over his wall but in his vision all he sees is—

Blood. Deep. Dark. Red.

Hands. Dry. Rough. Grey.

Hair. Straw. Ash. Blond.

Eyes. Black. White. Open. Empty.

Red. RED. RED!

—red.

All he sees is red.

Contrastingly, little green sparks dance along his skin and intertwine with the black whisps of a velvety rope. He dully registers that it feels like it may be strangling him. It doesn’t really matter though, because he’s already suffocating. Maybe this is how it ends. It would be fitting, somehow, to be swallowed whole by his own repressed emotions, enveloped only in darkness.

Instead, he is suddenly enveloped by something thick and fluffy, and warm.

“Wha…?” He croaks out, uncomprehendingly.

Strong hands press down on his shoulders from behind and a gruff voice mumbles in his ear, “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

“Sa…fe?”

He feels the weight of the bed shift around him as Katsuki situates himself, never breaking contact the entire time.

“That’s right. You know why?”

“W-Why?”

“Because I am here!”

The last syllable tickles his ear and Izuku shudders, but not from fear this time, it’s pure, unadulterated awe coursing through his veins now.

“Hah! That was cheesy.” Katsuki lets out a snort and then proceeds to pull Izuku into him, blanket burrito and all.

“Wah-cchan!” Izuku comes back down to earth enough to blush intensely at this gesture, thanking his stars that they’re currently in the dark. That’s right, in the dark. On his bed. Warm bodies adjacent.

He starts to scramble at the realization, but Katsuki tugs him back with a bored hand, grounding him in place.

“Try to relax.” He offers, this time with a sigh. “Or you’ll end up blowing this bedroom apart, nerd.”

“Huh? Why would I—“

Katsuki swiftly reaches out and grabs his hand in response, holding it up in front of Izuku’s gaping face, extinguishing the lingering signs of One-For-All with a gentle squeeze.

Izuku deflates at the realization that he almost lost control of his quirk again. He hangs his head in shame, his languid body sinking beneath him. Why couldn’t he just get a grip, already? He feels tired, frustrated, defeated, and now additionally embarrassed at having dragged Katsuki into this. Not to mention, they’ve hardly even spoken ever since—

Oh.

That’s right.

Guilt gnaws at his stomach as he puts the pieces together in his head, cursing himself for being so weak. Too weak to handle these nightmares, too weak to be remotely reliable anymore, and too weak to face his feelin—

“Hey, cut that shit out, right now.” A sharp voice hisses behind his head. Izuku startles, and wonders in horror if he said it all out loud. Before he can confirm or deny this, he’s suddenly flipped around and pulled back again, into a strong, tight embrace. As the welled-up tears spill freely from his eyes, Izuku finally gives in. He doesn’t have the strength to resist anymore.

Katsuki presses the smaller boy’s rather disheveled head against his chest and lets out a nearly inaudible sigh of his own. They stay in each other’s arms like that for a while, the silence punctuated by soft sniffles and loud heartbeats.

“Kacchan, I—“

“You don’t need to explain, Deku.” Katsuki interrupts gruffly, his voice still a low but firm murmur. “I get it.”

“I’m sorry…for saying such a terrible thing.”

“…I get it.”

Izuku chokes back another sob and tightens his shaky grip around Katsuki. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this, any of this, but in this wretched moment, he no longer has the willpower to deny himself anymore. 

“Are you sure? You look so tired, Deku-kun.”

Uraraka’s eyebrows furrow in concern and he nods his head so vigorously it might fall off his shoulders.

“A promise is a promise,” he laughs lightly, “Let’s get started, then!”

They’ve made plans to try cooking something together despite the fact that neither of them is particularly skilled in the culinary department. Uraraka even goes out of her way to persuade the short-tempered blond into allowing them into “his kitchen” for a while so that they aren’t unceremoniously thrown out halfway through this experiment. He eventually caves to her demands but still keeps himself planted on the couch in the common area, in clear view and earshot of the duo, radiating annoyance and distrust.

There’s nothing off about this picture.

Nothing of course, but the churning in Izuku’s stomach and the buzzing inside his head that he works to avoid even as he trains his attention toward the plethora of cutlery and measuring cups in front of him and not the blond spikes in his periphery. At least there hasn’t been a confrontation of any kind, for which he can be thankful. It’s almost as if nothing even happened. Like nothing’s changed.

Maybe nothing has.

The last thing Izuku remembers from the previous night is the overwhelming sense of relief coursing through his system after finally letting the floodgates open wide. He figures that he must have eventually conked out from the sheer exhaustion of it all. (And if there was anyone around to sit with him – and hold him – through this ordeal, the tangled sheets he wakes up in hold no trace of such a visitor.)  

“Ah!”

A sharp yelp yanks him out of his own head and he turns towards his shorter companion, a questioning look on his face. She chews on her bottom lip and stares at her palm with a troubled expression.

“Uraraka-san? What is i—“

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“Ahaha, clumsy me. I was trying not to make the ingredients float but looks like I wasn’t careful enough somehow.”

It’s a dark, ugly oxidized color. And it’s everywhere.

“It’s not very deep, but it still kinda stings.”

How does one small organ hold so much inside?

“Maybe Bakugou-kun was right and we’re not cut out for this, huh?”

How does someone’s entire life force spill out mercilessly outside them?

“…should make sure…”

He wants to scoop it up and place it back inside, every last drop.

“…clean surface…”

He wants to

“…worry about it! It’s not…”

NEEDS to

“…-gou-kun, we’re okay in here, I pro—“

Fix. This.

“…-ku-kun?”

But all he can see is

“Kacchan,” he croaks out, chopsticks slipping through his limp fingers with a clatter to the ground. It’s fitting, he dully registers, that right before he succumbs to the taunting pull of gravity, his vision, his space, and every last one of his senses is flooded by the only color he’s ever known.

He’s the goddamn successor of the strongest man he knows and yet he’s never felt weaker in his life.

Lips parting wordlessly, he struggles and ultimately fails to meet the unnervingly impassive gaze of the boy standing mere inches away.

“You look like shit,” said boy deadpans.

Izuku grimaces, unable to respond or refute this painfully obvious truth.

“Here,” a steaming hot coffee mug is suddenly thrust in his direction, “you fuckin’ need it.”

It’s early, far too early for this, yet here they are and there’s finally nowhere to run. Silence, neither comfortable nor uneasy, hangs over them for a while as Izuku gingerly seats himself on the other end of the couch.  He closes his eyes momentarily and feels the steam curling up from the mug gently caressing his eyelids.

“So? What did she say?”

Izuku blinks open his eyes in surprise, less at the question and more so at the fact that Katsuki doesn’t refer to Uraraka as ‘round face’ but he quickly swallows and chooses not to comment on or analyze that.

“Well, she apologized for not noticing or being able to help, especially as my…a-anyway, I told her she had nothing to apologize for, after all, this is all my own fau—“

“Izuku—”

“It is, though, Kacchan! I’ve been so – I am so – weak and I can’t keep anyone from worrying and I can’t even… keep… anyone.”

As it all comes out in a watery rush, Izuku ducks his head, wondering if he can drown in his coffee instead of having to say anything more.

“It’s for the best anyway, she deserves better. Anyone would,” he ends up mumbling miserably, “I mean, it’s obviously too much of a burden to handle.”

“Pretty sure that ain’t the reason why.”

Izuku jerks his head up at the strange response and even stranger tone in which it’s said, and suddenly feels like he’s playing a game of ‘Red Light, Green Light’ because they’re definitely sitting way closer than before. Once again choosing to ignore such observations, he instead shoots the blond a quizzical look. Katsuki, in turn, holds his gaze steadily, an uncharacteristically enigmatic expression coloring his features.  

“You really are such a damned nerd.”

And just like that, ten centimeters become zero.

(It hits him on an ordinary day,

that the only color he’s ever seen

has always been reflected back at him.)