Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Izuku… I know things will never be right between us and I get it. I fucking do. And it’s not fucking fair to — " Kacchan chokes and coughs violently, his body left shaking when the tremors stop. “Fuck — It’s not fair. I know you hate my guts after everything — "

“What?” Izuku, who was only half listening a second ago, cuts him off, surprising himself when his voice comes out in a yell.

What the hell is Kacchan talking about? What is happening?

“Why would you think — I could never hate you, Kacchan!" Izuku sputters. "What are you talking about? Right now?!”

They just 'got their shit rocked by the full brunt All For One,' as Kacchan himself would put it if he was making any sense. They're in the Vestige Realm. They're the last line of defense protecting One For All from Shigaraki and AFO from taking it for themselves. They need to move.

Now isn’t the time to talk. They can talk later.

There’s panic in Kacchan’s eyes. He swipes the cuff of his school uniform against his bleeding temple.

Why is Kacchan dressed like that? Where's his hero suit?

Why does he look like that?

Why does Kacchan sound like there won’t be a later?

Izuku realizes he’s gripping the blond by the lapels of his jacket, shaking the boy despite his injuries. He doesn’t let go. All his focus trains on ruby red eyes, how wide they grow with disbelief.

“Do you really think that?! Because you’re an idiot! I've never hated you, Kacchan!” Izuku shouts and Kacchan just stares at him, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly before he grits his teeth. 

For the first time maybe in his life, Kacchan’s sputters, a total loss for words.

“I — Y-you — How can you —"

Izuku pulls him close, cutting off his words when their foreheads touch, sweat and blood and fatigue be damn. The moment they touch, skin burning, he knows he could take on an army.

As long as Kacchan’s right here with him he can do anything. There’s nothing he’s more sure of.

The blond shakes his head, brow furrowed and a deep scowl playing on his lips. He tries to break from Izuku’s hold to meet his eyes but Izuku is nothing if not just as stubborn so he holds fast, one hand cradling the back of Kacchan’s head to block off his escape.

Right here. Right where I want you.

No where else. Never again.

Not when I already lost you once.

He shoves the thought aside. Kacchan’s right here, solid in his hands. That has to be enough.

They have to keep fighting.

Together.

“Izuku,” Kacchan insists, because god knows he’s never been one to give up. In that, they’ve always been equal. “I’m — I-I don’t know if I —"

“Kacchan.” Izuku’s voice comes out serious, no room for argument. “Shut up. Please.” He’s never said this to Kacchan in his life and miraculously, the boy in his hands falls silent.

Izuku doesn’t think about the months he’s wasted pushing him away when he could have kept him this close.

Never again, he swears again in his mind.

It takes all of his strength to pull himself away, just enough to meet the deep crimson of Kacchan’s eyes. The wisp of his bangs still tickles against Izuku’s burning skin. 

“Whatever it is. Tell me when we win,” he says. “When we get home. Promise me.” 

Again, no room for discussion. 

They will win. There’s no other option.

They deserve more time than what they’ve got. 

There needs to be more otherwise —

He shoves the thought away.

Izuku is stubborn, to his core he knows it. And Kacchan must see that familiar glint in his gaze from how those red eyes are reading him.

There’s something desperate in Kacchan’s eyes that fights to argue, to insist he say his piece before the unthinkable, but after an agonizing struggle he shuts them for a long moment.

When they open again, all that’s left is burning determination.

There he is. Izuku smiles.

“Ok,” is all Kacchan says before power surfaces to his skin and they dive back into the fray.

__________

Katsuki doesn’t know how any of this shit works.

He doesn’t know if he’s a ghost or a vestige or whatever the fuck you wanna call it. All he know is that he's here and Izuku needs someone to watch his back. If he’s really dead and this is all just a dream his mind is making up, then he'll deal with it when this is over and Izuku’s not in danger.

He doesn’t know how his body bleeds or feels fatigue in this realm or if any damage he takes here will mean anything for his physical body if he returns to it.

If it's there to return to.

His explosions sputter for half second before he catches himself. 

Shit. For all he knows, Shigaraki chopped him up into pieces and stuck his head on a pike the second everything went dark.

His teeth grit at the thought of Izuku seeing that.

Katsuki gaze drifts toward the form above, the expanse of the hero's back exploding with black tendrils that struck out attacks like a spider, the green of his hero suit dulled with pools of blood that spread slowly out on the fabric.

He glows with power, blue-green lightning racing in random orbits over his skin.

Izuku.

No matter what, he tells himself as they charge back into the fight, Izuku has to make it home.

And somehow, some way, Katsuki has to make it there too.

He promised. 

__________

“…Dude, I can’t keep sitting here doing nothing…"

“…Maybe if you brought homework like the rest of us…”

“…It’s fucked up we have homework to begin with…”

“…That’s it! I don’t care about the press. I’m going out to get some damn chips…”

”…Wait, me too. I’m starving…”

“…I’ll go with you. Text what you guys want. I’ll make a list…”

“…Oh, remember to get something for Midoriya. I don’t think he’s eaten…”

“…Right. Is he still in there?...”

“…Dude hasn’t moved since he woke up…”

It’s been a few days since the final fight. 

The voices in the hall probably don’t know he can hear them and Izuku doesn’t give any indication he’s listening to anything but the rhythm of the slow inhale-exhale coming from the bed beside him. As far as he’s concerned, that’s all that makes up the world right now. 

It’s been three days since he woke up. Since he bolted upright in a manic need to see the only person who could quell the violent pain in his chest.

Since he tore across half the hospital just to find out he was awake and Kacchan wasn’t. 

The door is shut, access limited strictly to immediate family and security. Izuku being the one exception.

He has to be. This is the only place he allows the nurses to treat him. He’s been scolded and advised otherwise, but it’s clear to everyone that he’s inconsolable anywhere but here.

And after everything they’ve been through, he bitterly thinks he’s earned the right to be a bit difficult. 

No one dares to disagree, which he considers it a small win. 

So yes, he will stay here if he wants to — needs to — folded over in this chair, eyes glued to a distant tile on the hospital floor while the quiet drone of machines whirr and beep to fill the empty air and the weight of a heavy hand anchors him to the world.

He’s not going anywhere.

Nothing is going to separate them. Never again. Not after —

His eyes start to sting just thinking about the last battle.

One second he was there — right there — trailing behind the familiar heat of Kacchan’s explosion, charging forward as that gravelly voice called his name, all arrogant confidence and childish excitement and bottomless trust. 

One second he was with him, then the next, somewhere else entirely.

He still remembers the glint of ruby eyes disappearing in the blackness of the portal before the world opened up to vast blue sky and water meeting on a distant horizon.

The next time those eyes found him, they stared right through him, unseeing, cold in a way Kacchan’s eyes never were. 

For a second, Izuku’s right there on that battlefield —

And then a wall slams down and his mind goes blank and he feels nothing but a cold chill.

He can’t think about it. He needs to keep it away, shoved to the furthest corner of his mind where, hopefully, it can’t hurt him.

Because it hurts like hell and for all his strength, he doesn’t know how much more pain he can take.

Izuku doesn’t give a damn if the war is over.There’s no victory, no celebration, no rest, no future, without Kacchan.

Izuku’s stomach lurches when the beep of the heart monitor slows just the slightest bit.

He’s been reassured to hell and back that Kacchan will pull through. Doctors, heroes, and friends alike tell him, even leaked it to the press. He just needs time, they say. They all believe in Kacchan as much as he does.

Because no way in hell would he ever let his shitty heart fucking quit on him before he even graduated high school or turned eighteen or became the goddamn number one hero — or however Kacchan would say it if he could.

Izuku can almost hear it, that familiar voice booming down the hall and into every room, aggressive and loud and biting. It’s almost enough to make him laugh.

God, what I’d give to hear you yell at me right now, Izuku thinks with a sigh he feels deep in his bones. The way he thinks Aizawa-sensei must when Iida raises his hand to ask another clarifying question. About my clothes, or my voice, my shitty left hook. Anything. 

A soft knock on the door yanks him out of the thought, his grip tightening around the cold palm laying in his.

“Midoriya,” Todoroki’s monotone voice says, muffled through the door. “We brought dinner for you. I’ll leave it by the door.”

Izuku waits for the shuffle of his feet to disappear down the hall before he feels his body relax. He slumps back further into the chair.

All Might or Auntie Mitsuki will bring it in when they come back.

__________

“I hate feeling helpless like this, man!” Eijirou growls, accentuating the end of his rant by tossing his pencil onto the table with a weak clatter. There’s no way he’s getting anything done tonight. 

It’s only been about a week and a half since the final battle, he reminds himself again and again. He knows he’s being impatient. But how can he not be when two of his friends are still in the hospital and he’s just sitting here pretending to be normal?

He slams his fist on the table, frustrated. Without his quirk activated, he actually feels the sting of the impact.

“Whoa, hey!” Kaminari startles, his hands out to stop him in case he tries again.

“I hate this,” Eijirou mutters to his unfinished assignment.

UA cancelled all in-person classes since most of the students and staff were injured in the war, but Principal Nezu insisted on providing students with supplementary workbooks and lessons supplement their idle time. Something about ‘keeping their young minds sharp and spirits motivated.’ It sucked at first, but he has to admit it’s kinda nice to work as a class on something. And most people don't want to be alone right now, so it’s this or group stretches, and both are better than channel surfing.

“Easy, dude,” Kaminari tries to ease him. He’s stretched over the table with his chin resting in his arms, ignoring his own workbook in favor of a long, lazy cat stretch. “We’re right there with you, but you know all we can do is wait for news.”

“Kaminari’s right,” Sero adds tiredly. “Most of us just got out of the hospital — Hell, Todoroki just got back, like, three days ago, I think? — There's not much we can do.” 

“We just have to keep waiting,” Kaminari concludes.

Eijirou knows they're right, but he still groans and throws his head back. He runs his hands through his flat hair. He hasn’t bothered to spike it these days. 

“It’s not fair,” he has to add under his breath. He feels like a child.

A soothing hand pets his arm. The touch is cold and a bit of the irritation in his chest quiets.

Mina.

He turns to look up at his friend, her yellow irises soft and reassuring, always putting on a brave face for those around her. Uraraka’s next to her, reaching out another gentle hand to rub circles between his shoulders.

His frustration ebbs the smallest bit, grateful to have such good friends.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Mina says in her usual chipper tone. She leans over the table, elbowing him in the arm playfully to coax a smile out of him. Like always, she succeeds, earning just a little twitch from the corner of his miserable mouth. “You’re the one who’s rallied us every day this week to go to the hospital to support. And you kept us all fed today when we were all down in the dumps from another day without news.”

“You’re doing more than enough,” Uraraka offers him a kind smile and the warmth goes straight to his core. “Deku and Bakugou wouldn’t want to see you so down on yourself.”

She's right.

“Thanks, guys,” he sighs, looking away, too warm to meet their eyes. 

Mina nods once, satisfied, and plops down by Kaminari to throw a reassuring arm around his shoulders. 

She sighs to herself, turning her gaze up to the ceiling in a wistful stare. “You’re not alone in feeling useless. We’re all worrying about those guys,” she says to no one in particular.

Kaminari leans his head against hers with his own resigned sigh.

“When aren’t we?” 

__________

'Izuku!'

His name, ringing out to him over a chasm yet close enough to touch.

He’s floating in space, a nebulous thing with no shape or form. No, that’s not right. He normally has a body. He looks down and sees it, but can’t feel it. 

The world around him is bright without any depth or distance to it. It’s strange, but he can’t pinpoint why exactly. It’s almost like a dream.

'Izuku, I—'

His name, again, closer this time, a warmth wrapped around it that’s both strange and wonderful. 

'I have to — ' the voice fades in and out so he can’t quite grasp the words to decipher their meaning. 'I don’t know if — '

The voice sounds sad, choked out with a cry. He doesn’t like it. He wants the warmth to come back. He’ll do anything to bring it back.

'But I’m — ' The voice cuts in and out, Izuku only catches every other word. 'I don’t…how…I’ll…back to — '

What do you want to say? He wants to ask, but he can’t seem to find his voice. He wonders if he placed it somewhere and forgot. No, that doesn’t sound quite right. 

'I promise,' he hears in perfect clarity.

He barely registers that he’s been crying. Strange. When did that happen?

He still can’t find his voice.

He hears his name once more and it echoes across his mind —

'Izuku...'

— Endlessly.

Izuku startles awake with a violent jerk. His heart hammers against the wall of his chest, the roar of blood and panic in his head drowning out all thought for an excruciating second before his brain catches up and he remembers where he is.

The hospital.

The war is over.

The weight of Kacchan’s hand in his brings him back. The skin is clammy, barely holding any warmth from Izuku’s touch. He grips tighter, aching for it to squeeze back. 

No such luck.

“Problem child.”

He startles again. He didn’t realize he wasn’t alone. 

Aizawa-sensei sits slumped in a chair facing him against the opposite wall, his uncovered eye alert despite their heavy-lidded gaze, half his face buried in the coil of his capture scarf around his neck. His long hair falls around his face like dark curtains, obscuring as much of his face so he appeared to be more shadow than man.

“S-sensei!” Izuku’s voice comes out too loud for how quiet the room is, scratching out of him from lack of use. He feels his face warm at the sudden outburst and drops his voice to a murmur. “You’re back.”

All Might and the other adults insisted on a rotation of pros acting as security. He doesn’t know who else is in the rotation because they all opt to stand guard outside the door aside from Aizawa. He's always stationed in the chair across from Izuku, always in the dead of night.

The room is dark aside from the glow of cities lights streaming in from the window. A glint of it catches on the edge of the pro’s goggles.

“Someone has to keep an eye on you two,” Aizawa answers simply, his voice low. The ‘like always’ in his tone is implied. 

Izuku nods wordlessly. 

Aizawa looks him over and asks, “How’s Bakugou?”

Izuku resists the urge to bite straight through his tongue. He remembers the haze of his dream and winces at the immediate sting to his eyes.

They were there together in the vestige realm.

Kacchan was speaking to him.

What did you want to tell me? He wants to sob.

Izuku’s eyes dart to the edge of the hospital bed, to fingers intertwined in his own, before darting away just as quick. “Fine,” He finally answers, his voice betraying the ache in his heart.

There’s a long pause. It’s long enough to almost convince him Aizawa’s dropped the conversation entirely, but again, Izuku’s never been that lucky.

“You can’t look at him.” His teacher doesn’t ask.  He just knows, like always. 

Izuku doesn’t have the energy to try and deny it.

“No, sir,” he swallows dry. When was the last time he had anything to drink? His tongue suddenly feels like it’s coated in sand. “I can’t” His voice drops off as his stomach flips. He feels the chill of shadow threatening to reach out and snatch him from the dark and back to that cursed place.

Where Kacchan's on the ground —

Eyes dark as blood, unseeing —

Gone.

He feels sick.

He swallows it down with the lump in his throat. He knows it’s useless to put on a brave face in front of his teacher, but his last shred of pride insists on pressing down the quiver in his lip.

Aizawa pulls Izuku back to the present with a shift of his shoes against the tile floor. He stretches out his long legs, crossing his ankles casually like Izuku isn’t losing his mind right in front of him. 

His teacher sighs tiredly, but there’s no irritation in it. Just understanding. “No one should have to see their friend like that,” he says and his words are weightier than Izuku’s ever heard come from the man, almost like they’re weighed down with a feeling too deep, too painful to name. “With someone you love…” His tone is grave, hollow and sad, “No sacrifice — honorable or not — is worth that kind of pain. It’s immeasurable.”

The memory of Kacchan’s face in his hands flashes behind Izuku’s eyes. He feels more than hears his rough, ragged voice shaking in a way it never ever should —

Izuku wants to stop talking. He doesn’t want to think about this. Every fiber of his tired body wants to disappear from this conversation. But when he meets his teacher’s gaze, he can’t stop himself from speaking.

“You were there,” Izuku doesn’t ask. “When it happened to him.”

Aizawa nods once, his head barely moving. 

Izuku swallows dry. “No one wants to talk to me about it. Just avoid it when I ask.”

His voice trembles with unspoken words he prays his teacher hears. He doesn’t trust himself not to beg, not to fall apart just trying to put the request to words.

Tell me. Please.

His teacher understands.

The man shifts in his seat again until he’s somehow deeper in shadow. “I assume you’ve pieced most of it together.” Izuku nods and his teacher continues, “Then you know no matter how many heroes we had out there that day, we were no match for Shigaraki’s ultimate form. Not without you — "

Izuku nods again. His throat tightens.

“ — And you know that the only reason we held him off as long as we did is because that kid was there.”

Of course. It couldn’t be anyone but him.

“Yes, sir.”

“In all my years, I’ve never seen anyone — pro, student, whatever — do what he did, fight the way he did after… everything Shigaraki did. Bakugou's spirit wouldn’t break even when his body had,” Aizawa-sensei sighs again and this time it’s bone tired. “It happened fast. From where Monoma and I were, we saw every second...” He pauses a long time before clearing his throat. Izuku realizes this might be the closest he’s ever seen Aizawa-sensei come to crying. 

He goes on after composing himself, angrier than before. “It's shameful that — even surrounded by pros — no one stopped it. I wanted to look away, even when Monoma couldn’t — It was shameful.” The man shakes his head at himself, bitter disappointment searing in his single eye. “The moment they last clashed… It was like watching a sun explode.”

Yeah, he thinks as a tear slowly falls down his cheek. Kacchan’s amazing. 

“He wouldn't have wanted you to see it, but if you had…You would have been proud of him,” Aizawa finished. 

Of course he would. It’s Kacchan. 

Oh, Izuku’s heart hurts. 

The numbness he’s felt in his soul gives way to dip into the raw, unending hurt he’s kept at bay all this time. Not just since the final battle of the war, but for months.

“What if he doesn’t wake up?” Izuku finds his voice betray the unspoken thought, the deep-seated worry he hasn’t let float to the surface until now. It’s unthinkable. It’s barely a whisper, spoken more to the open air than to the dark-haired man across from him. 

The beep and hum of the machines fill the air.

Kacchan breathes in the bed next to them, unmoving.

“He will. Try to get some rest, kid,” Aizawa-sensei sighs after a long while, crossing his arms over his chest. And this time, Izuku knows the conversation is really over.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but when Izuku wakes up the next morning, he finds a notebook and pen tucked under his arm. The paper smells new.

It smells like home.

_________

“Can you see him, Todoroki?”

“I’m sure he’s still there. I don’t know why I’m the one looking…”

“You’re the tallest one here right now! Get on your toes and tell us if you see Deku!” Uraraka grips the back of his jacket, which he thinks is counterintuitive to her request to stand taller, but Shoto doesn’t bother trying to argue. At least he’s fully healed now, otherwise this would really suck.

“Fine,” he relents and lifts up onto his toes, tilting his chin up to get a better look through the thin window of the hospital room door. He can’t see anything at first, but when he tilts his head slightly he catches a glimpse of the foot of the bed and a flash of green at the very edge of the half-drawn privacy curtain. Oh, that must be Midoriya.

He relays the information to his classmates huddled behind him. The whole class is supposed to come today, though the other two groups are arriving later with Yaoyorozu and Iida. Behind him, Uraraka tugs harder, almost pulling him off balance as she pushes down on his shoulder to prop herself up. 

“Oh, I think I see them! Right there!” She shrieks, her chin digging into the top of his head. She’s basically climbing him now. Which, again, he thinks makes no sense considering she has a zero gravity quirk, but he can’t do anything right now but let it happen.

“Are you sure?” Denki whisper-yells from somewhere behind them. 

Why is he whispering when Uraraka’s already been shouting this whole time? 

Yes, Shoto thinks to say, but he can’t get the word out before his heel slips and sends them all tumbling to the floor like dominoes.

“Wah!!”

“That did not go as planned,” he deadpans from the floor. His body aches even from the softened impact. Maybe he should have stayed in the hospital a little longer like his sister said.

“There was a plan?” Asui, the only one left standing, asks sincerely with a slight tilt of her head.

__________

“They’re quite lively today. I suppose it is Friday so there’s a whole weekend ahead to look forward to,” All Might muses from his spot by the window, chucking under his breath at the noise coming from the hallway. 

Izuku doesn’t have to look to know his mentor has his classic smile on his face, genuine and bright to contrast the dark hollows of his eyes. He knows All Might is masking his worries for Izuku’s sake and he can’t help but be glad the man is here even when he doesn’t feel like talking. 

The former number one hero doesn’t seem to mind the quiet.

“It’s nice they’ve come by so many days now,” the old hero continues, speaking out to the view since he know Izuku won’t look up. “I actually heard Endeavor’s been pouting because young Todoroki hasn’t visited him at home once since they were both discharged.”

Probably just messing with him on purpose, Izuku thinks, pen still moving.

“I’m sure Young Todoroki just wants to support you and Bakugou how he can, same as the rest of your class.” The man sighs, it’s a wistful thing.

That usually means he's about to go on another tangent, probably a sentimental one, Izuku thinks.

“What fine young heroes you’re all becoming."

Yup, there it is. The corner of his lip quirks, not a smile but something amused.

"And with the unconditional support you all share with one another, I know the future is secure…Ha. What a priceless thing to have, young man.”

Izuku glances up toward the door at that. Just for a quick second. His friends’ muffled voices leak through and he can catch the barest traces of conversation.

(“…Should get Midoriya dinner again like yesterday….”

“…Todoroki, your shirt’s all wrinkled…”

“…It was nice of the staff to bring a couple chairs out…”

“…Quiet, everyone, we shouldn’t disturb the…”

“…What’s the point of assigning four problems if each one has, like, twelve parts…”

“…Bakugou would know this…I just keep circling problems I know I need his help on…”

“…Dang, that’s a lot of circles….”)

He sighs. He misses them.

“You’ve been writing a lot today,” All Might observes, still smiling. “It’s good to see.”

Izuku nods, not lifting his eyes from the page he’s scribbling over. It’s hard maneuvering the notebook in his lap one-handed, but he’s managed so far. 

And he’d rather die than take his hand from Kacchan’s right now.

Izuku isn’t exactly sure what he’s writing, just that it feels good to. His hand just started moving and hasn’t stopped since the nurses came to change his bandages and give him his meds. They said he’s healing well after the surgery he didn’t remember being told he’d received. One of the nurses, the one with kind, orangey eyes, even massaged his hand, easing the cramp out of his wrist so he could continue writing.

When she finished, she gave his hand a gentle pat and promised to see him later on her rounds.

He needs to thank them when he finally leaves. He’ll have to ask for their names so he and Kacchan can give a proper thank you when they leave.

(He hopes and hopes.)

All Might talks the whole time. Izuku knows it’s his mentor’s gentle way of keeping him in the loop with what's going on outside. 

Apparently, the press is still camped outside the hospital in a massive mob. They’re hounding anyone who seems to have any connection to UA. It’s been a pain to everyone. All Might chuckles a little thinking about the constipated look on Endeavor’s face at the most recent press conference concerning the post-war repair efforts. Apparently Hawks and Mirko were in stitches snickering at him from off-screen.

The corner of Izuku’s mouth twitches again imagining that. He wonders if Todoroki had at least a small chuckle at his father’s expense.

All Might lets out a deep breath and from the corner of his eye, Izuku sees his mentor’s tall, gaunt figure stand taller.

“It’s a beautiful day,” All Might notes, “And you made it possible for all of us to be here to see it.”

The old hero’s boots tap along the tile floor, sighing wistfully as he gathers his things from around the room.

“And I hope you know that all that aside, I for one feel particularly lucky to be by your side, young man.” 

In two big strides, he passes Izuku’s chair and pats his head before shuffling toward the door.

“I hope we get to enjoy a day like this very soon,” he says. “Together.” 

The door clicks closed. And Izuku lets go of the shaky breath he was holding.

He shuts his eyes against the threat of tears. Another long breath steadies him enough to open his eyes and they land on the edge of the bed. Kacchan’s hand is bandaged, especially around the palm, but Izuku swears he feels a bit of warmth against his own.

“Please wake up,” he whispers and tries to ignore just how desperate he sounds.

He continues to write. He writes about pitch black alleyways and the smell of lightning, apologies in the rain and dreams that might be more than dreams. He writes about everything and nothing in equal importance.

The whole time, Izuku thinks the room feels too quiet with his mentor gone.

__________

He knows this is a memory.

They’re younger, together, wreaking of sun and sweat as they walk hand in hand home from the park.

Since they were kids, Katsuki never liked holding hands, no matter how many times Izuku asked. Even before his quirk manifested and his hands became strictly off limits.

Today’s one of those rare exceptions. They’re four years old and for all his teasing, Katsuki isn’t letting Izuku walk home alone in the state he’s in, all whiney and blubbering about the bleeding cut on his other arm that’s painting a trail down to his pinky to drip a trail of little dots on the ground behind them. Izuku wouldn’t stop crying. He’d take one look at the blood and start shaking. So Katsuki took his hand and started pulling him home. Because that’s what heroes do. They do things they don’t want to to help people and save the day.

They’re less than a block away. His mom’s home. She’ll know what to do.

“K-Kacchan,” Izuku manages to stutter, wiping his stuffy nose on his shoulder. It’s sticky and gross and makes a thin trail of snot stretch and snap as he pulls his sleeve away.

“Quiet, Deku,” Katsuki scolds. “And don’t wipe your nose on your sleeve, stupid! It’s gross!”

“But it-it’s d-dripping, Kacchan,” Izuku hiccups, his voice small and thick with tears. A fresh wave spills from Izuku’s eyes like a raindrops clumping and together and racing down the window of a speeding car. How is it even possible to cry such fat fucking tears? 

Katsuki just grips his hand tighter and speeds their pace. They just have to turn the corner and then his house will be right there.

“Shitty Deku,” he murmurs under his breath. “Stupid crybaby.”

Izuku squeezes his hand back and he actually laughs, just a small chuckled breath. 

“Don’t say bad words, Kacchan.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Katsuki warns as they round the corner.

Izuku doesn’t let go even after his cut’s bandaged up. Katsuki doesn’t try to make him.

Katsuki wakes up like he’s coming up for air after being held underwater too long. The disorientation of drowning, choking, suffocating, dying, he’s too familiar with at this point in his life not to know it intimately.

It’s fucking awful every time. He breaks through the skin of consciousness to find the world a blur of too-bright light and muffled sound, the dizzying pull of an invisible current almost enough to send him right back under. 

No, he doesn’t want that. 

But his eyes feel so heavy. Are they even open? He can’t really see yet, it’s too goddamn hazy. He tries to tell his eyes to blink, but he feels like he’s working in slow motion. One side of his head throbs. It feels heavier on that side. If he closes his eyes, the throb dulls and he feels like he’s tipping over the edge of something.

Something peaceful. Quiet. He likes quiet.

There’s a high-pitched beep somewhere. Too loud. It’s fucking annoying.

Just a second then. Maybe just...

He wants to lean over the edge, sink down deep into the feeling until there’s nothing else.

“Please,” he hears and doesn’t know if it’s imagined from how deeply familiar it feels to him. 

Please, what? The words don’t reach his mouth like he wants them too.

A shaky breath. This time he’s sure it isn’t his own.

It’s barely a whisper when he hears it.

“…Please come back to me...”

Ok, he thinks. 

Because he wants to stop falling. He wants to stay.

He tries to reach out, grasping for a thought, for anything to keep him here.

He remembers a hand in his, shaking and small. That same hand reaching out to him too many times to count.

A memory — it’s shimmering and hazy when he tries to grasp it — of that hand reaching out to him over an impossible distance. They’re worlds away, but somehow closer than they’ve ever been. 

This time, he reaches back.

His hand grips something warm, alive, real.

“…K-Kacchan?” Izuku’s voice. 

His heart jumps.

He sounds worried.

Izuku.

Scared.

Katsuki’s wide awake now.

Or at least he pushes himself closer to it, fighting the tide pulling him back towards sleep.

Too slowly, his eyes blink away the haze and the room opens up to a plain, white ceiling. The hospital. That explains the noise. Why is —

The war. Shigaraki. It slams into his chest and he can’t find his next breath, he’s —

“Kacchan?” He hears again and this time he can tell it’s from his left side. Izuku says his name like he’s gasping it, a mix of panic and reverence and a fearful edge that floors Katsuki enough to forget his own panic. Somehow his neck creaks enough to turn slightly. His head plops heavily to the side. Jeez, how many shitty drugs do they have him on? He’s never woken up so damn loopy before.

Well, you've never been hurt like that before either, dipshit, his mind supplies.

Nevermind that. Not important.

Izuku looks a fucking mess and if Katsuki had even half his mind about him, he’d be pissed off enough to chew the nerd out. When he can’t muster the energy, he takes him in, head to toe, all in one look. The nerd’s already wild hair’s standing on end in every direction, clearly unwashed and so dark it’s almost black. The light coming in from the window haloes around his head, the very ends of his hair the only hint of green on him.

His eyes, usually a bright, viridian green, are uncharacteristically dark too. Shadows darken his under eyes and pale skin. 

He’s seen him look like this before. 

He thinks of rain.

Katsuki doesn’t like it.

“Y’re not sleepin’,” he manages to get out. Damn, his voice scrapes out of him like gravel, a rasp barely louder than a whisper.

Izuku’s stupid mouth hangs open for a long second before he starts crying. Or laughing. Maybe both, knowing him. 

“Don’ cry, Izuku,” Katsuki groans. “N’ righ’ now.”

But this only makes Izuku cry harder — damn it — the aching gasping kind that echoes out so loud it bounces off the tile floor. He hears the vague murmur of voices, muffled, maybe somewhere outside. Again, not important. Because the nerd is shaking. He has Katsuki’s hand —his left, he notices — in both of his, pressing his forehead to their tangled fingers while he screws his eyes shut and sobs. Katsuki notices an IV still connected to Izuku’s right hand, the tube snaking up to the mobile IV stand next to his chair. Both of them are bandaged like goddamn mummies.

“Y’re hurt,” Katsuki mutters, the thought coming out unfiltered from his brain. “Sh’dn’t be outta bed.”

Izuku has the nerve to shake his head. His lips are pressed into a wobbly, forced smile.

“I’m ok, Kacchan, I’m ok.” He says it over and over again. “I’m ok.”

Katsuki doesn’t believe him, but before he can argue, he’s feels himself being pulled away until there’s nothing but quiet and the warmth of a hand in his. This time he can’t help being taken.

__________

He’s awake. He’s here. He’s alive.

Kacchan.

They’re ok. Everything will be ok now.

Because Kacchan is here. With him.

Alive.

Izuku doesn’t stop crying. Even when he hits the button to call the nurses and they rush in to check Kacchan’s vitals, almost pulling them apart before thinking better of it. Even when the kind nurse comes to throw a blanket around his shoulders and All Might meets his eye, flashing a cheesy thumbs up through the window of the door. Even when sleep finally finds him and he lets himself rest his head against the cool hospital sheets next to their intertwined fingers, now warm with new heat.

He doesn’t dare let go.

Chapter Text

When Kacchan opens his eyes a couple hours later they look a lot clearer, less cloudy and dull and closer to their usual spark. Right now, they’re a soft ember glow and the sight of it brightens Izuku’s spirit instantly. He feels lighter than air. Like he could die. He hasn’t felt this light in months.

He’s spent every day solely focused on the next fight for so long now, putting everything aside with the excuse that it was for the future.

It seems so foolish now that the future is here.

Kacchan makes a face when his eyes focus on Izuku, still stationed in his usual chair by his bedside, now turned to face the bed.

“Quit starin’,” his words slur out, but not nearly as much as before. “Go sleep in your own room.”

“This is my room,” Izuku says like it’s obvious. They moved a bed in for him after about an hour of him refusing to leave. He hasn’t slept in it once.

“To your own bed then,” Kacchan insists, finally turning to look around the room only to find the privacy curtain drawn around them.

Izuku just shakes his head and squeezes Kacchan’s hand. He’s kind of amazed the blonde hasn’t made any attempt to pull away yet. Maybe the drugs they have him on are extra strong. 

“Oh, I’m not doing that. Sorry, Kacchan.”

“Tch,” Kacchan scoffs and it tugs at the corners of Izuku’s mouth. “Don’t not listen to me and then say sorry, dumbass. S’annoying. Just tell me to fuck off if you’re just gonna do whatever you want.”

“Okay, Kacchan,” Izuku concedes. He knows he’s grinning and it must look stupid, but he can’t find the energy to give a damn. 

Because Kacchan’s awake.

The blonde makes a face at Izuku’s expression. His ruby eyes narrow from under his mussed up bangs, like he’s fitting together pieces of information. And because Izuku’s nothing but a simple man, his chest fills with a warm, fluttering feeling at Kacchan’s irritated look.

“How long have you been sitting there?”

“About four days,” Izuku answers honestly.

Kacchan looks like he wants to face palm himself, but doesn’t try to lift his bandaged right arm or extricate his left from Izuku’s — again, instant warmth — so instead the blonde just sighs, long and disappointed. He sounds like he wants to be angry but can’t muster the energy dedicated to exploding.

“Fucking crazy idiot,” he mutters. “It’s like you want to stay in this shitty hospital forever.” Then his voice drops like he’s talking to himself. Izuku almost doesn’t catch it.

"What the hell am I gonna do with you?"

Another sigh, an exasperated growl and a puff of angry breath to the ceiling, then he turns back to Izuku. “Ok. C’mere.”

“Hm?” 

He’s too slow to stop Kacchan from trying to sit up. When he tries to put the slightest amount of weight on his right arm, he winces so hard he falls back against the pillows and writhes in the aftershocks of pain, jaw clenched.

“Kacchan!” Izuku bolts to his feet.

“Ow,” the blonde mutters through gritted teeth. “Fuck, that hurt.”

“Of course it did! Your arm were shattered!”

“Yeah, I think I remember,” Kacchan deadpans sarcastically as he attempts a shimmy this time to move to the far side of the bed.

“Stop! Kacchan!” Izuku scolds, pulling on his hand, “What are you doing?”

Kacchan frowns and tugs back with a hard jerk that makes Izuku fall forward.

“C’mere, nerd,” he barks to the corner of the room, avoiding looking Izuku in the face. Izuku can’t tell if it’s a trick of the early evening light or if the tips of Kacchan’s ears really are going pink. “If your crazy ass isn’t going to bed, at least stop sitting there staring at me like a creep. When was the last time you slept in a fucking bed? Your back’s gonna get all fucked up!”

He turns his crimson glare to Izuku, waiting.

Izuku doesn’t realize his mouth’s hanging open until Kacchan growls loud, his mouth in a snarl. 

“Sit. Now, or I blast your damn hand off.”

At the empty threat, Izuku feels Kacchan give his hand a quick squeeze and his heart soars at the gesture. It’s both foreign and familiar, so unlike Kacchan yet exactly like him. Izuku stops himself before his mind gets stuck analyzing the small touch and sits down.

“You probably shouldn’t use your quirk while you’re in the hospital, Kacchan,” Izuku breathes a laugh, all high on relief.

“I know that, nerd,” Kacchan mutters as he finishes making room. 

At first, he settles on the edge of the bed until Kacchan grunts and pulls him fully back, plopping down so their heads share the pillow, shoulders pressed together.

The moment his body hits the bed, the ache in his back and shoulders soothe. Kacchan pushes the sheet down so Izuku slips his socked feet under. And oh wow. It’s amazing. Were his eyes this heavy before or —

“Kacchan — " He tries to speak, but he’s stopped right away.

“Close your eyes and sleep. S’time for bed.” The blond’s eyes are already closed. His mouth pressed into a frown that’s supposed to mean they’re done talking.

But Izuku’s nothing if not persistent. He’s spent so long in silence himself that now the words just spill out.

“Kacchan… Are you feeling ok?” He whispers and Kacchan lets out an annoyed huff of breath. He doesn’t snap at him like Izuku expects him to. He just squeezes Izuku’s hand again, like a message, a silent reassurance that promises: I’m here. It sends his heartbeat straight up to his throat again, his pulse loud as he tries to remember his next breath. The warmth in his chest bubbles up until he feels like he’s wrapped up in a blanket.

“Peachy. Why the hell are you still talking?” Kacchan’s voice is a low rasp. 

“You’re just… I dunno, you’re being so…nice,” he breathes in answer, sounding amazed. 

He doesn’t know why saying that feels so good. Maybe because it’s a new moment he’s shared with Kacchan, one he’s proven real by speaking it out loud.

This is the future they fought for. One where they get more time. He’s surprised he’s not floating. It takes everything in him not to say any of that out loud.

Kacchan is so close. He’s right here, with me. He’s here.

Everything will be ok now. More than ok. 

Kacchan huffs again, eyes still shut so he doesn’t see how Izuku’s beaming at him.

“Shut up before I knock your ass out,” he hears Kacchan grumble next to him.

Izuku laughs, but it dies out as he feels his own eyes close. 

“Sleep well, Kacchan,” he sighs.

A small squeeze of his hand answers back. 

__________

Denki’s the first one to notice Aizawa-sensei step into the waiting area and he’s on his feet with his mouth running before the man even has a chance to open his to give the news.

“What’s going on? Why did they send us out yesterday? Why aren’t we allowed back in? Did something happen? Are they ok? Is something wrong with Bakugou? Why did the nurses rush in like that? What — "

“Kaminari,” their teacher cuts him off, his tone serious.

Denki shuts his mouth and a steady hand — Kirishima? Maybe Todoroki? — grips his shoulder for support.

Slowly, Aizawa-sensei looks around the room, taking in the sight of his students — all of Class A and a handful from Class B — huddled around the waiting room, out of uniform, some still bandaged and bruised, each face painted with a different shade of concern. Every pair of eyes in the room are trained on his careful expression.

The man sighs tiredly, eyes closed. When they open again, the slightest smile tugs at the very edge of his scowl, almost like he can’t help it.

“He’s awake,” he says.

The tears are instant. 

Denki doesn’t realize he’s doubled over and sinking to the ground until he feels Kirishima clawing at his shirt and his feet are swept off the ground as hard muscled arms crush him in a desperate hug. Sero’s hand is gripping his hair, shaking both of them and cheering words Denki doesn’t have the mind to make sense of. More hands, one cold to the touch — that one has to be Todoroki. He’s breathing hard, wordless, but Denki nods like he gets it. 

There’s crying, shouting, cheering all around him, but it’s like he’s underwater because it all sounds so far away. 

Kirishima crushes his face to his shoulder, blooming a big wet spot on his t-shirt, crying over and over again that he made it, he made it, that bastard, he fucking made it. Denki isn’t sure he’s even saying words from how much he’s blubbering like a baby.

The relief in the room is thick enough to get high on. He feels like he already is with how lightheaded he feels.

“He’s awake,” he says it again, just to hear it said and know it’s true. Kirishima’s arms tighten around him. 

They barely hear Aizawa-sensei announce that they should go home to UA, that Bakugou doesn’t want to take visitors while he’s recovering and will see them back at the dorms with Midoriya. 

It sends a fresh wave of sobs and cheers through the room.

__________

They sleep a lot over the following days. Kacchan’s clearly annoyed by how much he still needs to rest but doesn’t try to fight it, instead insisting Izuku follow suit every time the urge hits him. And he can barely find the will to argue. The nurses carefully moved them to a bigger bed after, again, it became clear Izuku wouldn’t be using his own.

Kacchan’s mom brings over books and manga from the dorm that the blond thumbs through while Izuku scribbles in his notebook. Sometimes they pass the pen back and forth to play hangman or draw mazes for the other to solve. One afternoon they fill almost four full pages of a word chain game they make up on the fly. Whenever one chain ends, Kacchan stubbornly grabs the pen and starts the next one, pushing the notebook into Izuku's lap with a grunt for his turn.

One day, Auntie Mitsuki walks in to find them playing Hanafuda with cards fashioned from Izuku’s notebook paper and bursts out laughing at Kacchan’s scribbly drawings for the card faces.

Sometimes they wake up and All Might is there, sometimes Aizawa, either always sitting in the chair Izuku previously sat in, a small, sad smile on their lips. 

(“What the hell are you looking at, old man?” Kacchan usually grumbles, his voice all scratchy with sleep. He’s always grumpiest when he first wakes up, just like in primary school.)

Sometimes Auntie Mitsuki will look at them with this same expression. Her eyes go softer than Izuku’s ever seen them, like she’s still waking from a dream that threatens to pull her under at any moment.

Considering the past week, nightmare might be more accurate to call it.

Uncle Masaru sends his well-wishes and love over video calls and texts, always checking in on Kacchan’s recovery. Apparently, he took on the work of managing their most current work project himself to allow Auntie Mitsuki to stay at the hospital full time.

By his pensive frown, Kacchan clearly doesn’t know what to make of any of this.

Izuku's mom is there too, of course. She strolls in most days with her softest smile. unsurprisingly eager to help dote on them both while she tries not to let Izuku see the worry creased between her brows. In those moments, he reaches out to squeeze her hand and the worry ebbs away for a bit.

Sometimes it's kind of nice letting her baby him. It reminds him of a simpler time.

He can tell Kacchan isn't as used to this kind of thing from Auntie Mitsuki. Especially when the latter says goodbye and ruffles Kacchan’s spiky hair softly, her touch lingering a moment before she pecks a tiny kiss to his hair. 

Kacchan’s eyes widen every time she does it, like the act shocks him. 

When she leaves, he stares at the door for a long time before turning back to Izuku.

“Why does she do that?” He mumbles under his breath one day, touching his fingers to the spot his mother just kissed.

“Because she loves you,” Izuku answers.

Kacchan just narrows his eyes at him, like he wants to argue but doesn’t know what to say.

But why like that? His gaze seems to ask. Izuku doesn’t answer.

When doctors and nurses come through, it's more often to check on Kacchan than him. Whenever they do, the boy gives his hand two quick squeezes before letting go and Izuku understands instantly.

‘I’ll be back, don’t go anywhere,’ the small touch says.

One day, Izuku watches from the bed, his anxious pulse pounding as the doctor and Auntie Mitsuki help Kacchan to stand. They slowly move through the doctor’s tests, checking his range of motion across different parts of his body.

Through each exercise, the doctor explains that because Kacchan’s body suffered such severe internal damage in addition to the shattered bones in his arm, he can’t withstand as much quirk-induced healing without negative side effects.

Kacchan flinches as his right hand is guided in a slow hinge motion, muttering stop as the doctor ordered when the strain of the stretch becomes too much, first forward then back.

The shallow bend is nowhere near his full range of movement and Izuku sees the annoyed furrow in Kacchan’s brow at that. 

After a second's hesitation, the doctor answers Kacchan’s unspoken question and admits that the full extent of the damage or how it will affect his quirk is still unclear. They aren't sure how this level of injury even occurred.

"Oh, right. That," Kacchan grumbles like he just remembered a forgotten chore and not a key piece of information for his recovery plan. He shrugs and explains that it was probably because a new facet of his quirk awakened during his one-on-one with Shigaraki.

Izuku actually yelps at the news. He immediately has to slap his hand over his mouth to keep the barrage of questions at bay, bright red with embarrassment.

Kacchan had a quirk upgrade! And he didn’t know until just now?! All this time and no one told him?? He needs to know everything!!

Kacchan just gives him a sideways smirk.

At the blond’s insistence, the doctors relents to slightly increaze their healing sessions to be more frequent but less intense on a trial basis. Why Izuku’s included in this experiment he doesn’t know, but he’s happy to go along if it helps Kacchan recover faster.

After a few days the increased sessions do show improvement, but it also leaves them dead tired by the end. He’s so tired he falls asleep with his notebook open on his chest, pencil gripped between his fingers. It leads to more thinking than writing.

Most of the time he thinks of Kacchan.

Kacchan only really calls Izuku by his name now. His real name.

He doesn’t know what that means. He told Kacchan he doesn't have to strain himself to change. Kacchan didn't have to change at all.

What he does know is that when Kacchan says it to him — "Izuku..." — so close up like this, on their sides facing each other in the space of the bed, Izuku’s heart thumps.

Every time.

He isn’t use to being so close, especially like this. It should feel uncomfortable and new, maybe awkward too. But when he searches for those feelings he comes up empty. 

No, all he feels is safe.

Because all evidence points to the possibility Kacchan doesn’t want to be kept apart again either. Every moment spent together like this starts to cement that possibility into fact.

He doesn’t know what to do with that bit of information either, so he tucks it away with everything else he tries not to think about but desperately wants to understand.

After what feels like an eternity, their care team green-lights their graduation from the room out to the rest of the hospital. At least once a day, they’re encouraged to take a short, slow — that’s emphasized multiple times — walk along with their physical therapy sessions.

Sometimes they take their lunches and eat in the courtyard in the dappled shade, sometimes joined by other patients but most often alone. Izuku thinks those are his favorite days, alone with Kacchan, tickled by the green grass against their bandages.

Whenever they return to the room, Kacchan wordlessly climbs to his side of the bed, leaving the space next to him open for Izuku to slip in, like it’s only natural.

__________

“Hey,” he hears Kacchan say in a low mutter. It’s the middle of the night. They didn’t talk much today. Kacchan seemed on edge and Izuku didn’t push him to share. “You awake?”

It seems he’s ready to talk now.

“Yeah,” he answers right away, not hiding that he’s been awake for some time. He’s been staring out the window, his back to Kacchan for a while now. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Kacchan hums. “Me either.”

“Maybe that means we’re getting better.”

“Fucking finally.”

Izuku leaves a pause. It’s a long time before Kacchan speaks into it.

“My heart didn’t just stop because of my quirk like the doc keep saying, huh? It was a lot worse than that.”

Izuku doesn’t speak.

“There’s something they’re not telling me — the doctors, I get, but even All Might and Aizawa-sensei — like they don’t know how to just come out and say it… Or don’t think I can fucking take it.”

There’s so much pain in Kacchan’s voice, it makes his throat tighten and the center of his chest ache. It makes him want to reach out and tell him everything is ok. But he also knows better than to try to lie.

“That’s not it,” Izuku assures, turning onto his back to join Kacchan in staring at the ceiling. It feels easier sending their words up into the air than to each other.

“Then what is it?” Kacchan’s voice breaks like he’s fighting not to cry, or impatient and biting back his temper. “What the hell happened to me that no one can say? W-why does my mom look at me like that? Like I’m made of goddamn glass?” A sharp intake of breath. Izuku takes his hand and Kacchan holds it with a crushing grip. A shaky exhale then when he talks again, his voice is low and small.

Izuku’s suddenly reminded that though he always looked up to the boy, Kacchan is just a few months older than him.

He’s seventeen. The realization makes him want to cry.

“I’ve been going crazy thinking about it. Trying to piece it together… I wish someone would just come out and say it.”

In his words, Izuku hears it, his plea: Please tell me. Even if it’s bad. I need to know.

He closes his eyes. All he sees is blood soaked grass and hollow eyes. A crumpled card next to a broken body.

All he sees is red.

He forces his eyes open and laces their fingers together against the cold sheet.

He reminds himself that Kacchan is here, right beside him, before he starts to crumble. He has to be strong right now. For the both of them.

“You were hurt,” he says finally. “Really bad.”

“…How bad?” Kacchan hesitates before he asks and that makes Izuku tense. Kacchan doesn’t hesitate.

His words are so careful, like he’s afraid to say them but has to get them out.

This is hard for him, Izuku realizes, He’s so scared.

Kacchan is so brave.

“You were dead,” Izuku chokes out. He tells himself he won’t cry, but he can’t deny the sting at the back of his eyes. “Y-your heart, it didn’t just stop — you’re right, Kacchan — It exploded. Best Jeanist said it might have been your quirk overworking your heart too but most of the damage was from when Shigaraki hit you… It — Y-your heart and lung just… burst open. There was a big hole...”

There’s a long stretch of quiet. 

“Did you see it?” Kacchan asks, his tone forced neutral.

No, no, no. No more please. He can’t go blank. Kacchan needs him.

“Yes,” Izuku breathes.

“Shit.”

Izuku swallows dry. “I-I saw it. There was a hole in your chest. And s-so much blood. It was —God, it was everywhere.” He sniffles. The room feels so cold all of a sudden.

“I-I flew you back to the ground…a-and held you until the ambulances came,” Izuku realizes, the memory pushed to the forefront of his mind.

The dead weight in his broken arms. The fatigue of his body nothing compared to the feeling of his heart shattering in his chest.

Cold eyes. 

A crumpled, bloody card shoved into his belt, weighing him down all the way back to Earth.

He swallows it down as Kacchan’s voice brings him back to their conversation..

They’re in the hospital. Safe. 

Keep it together.

“H-how...?” Kacchan breathes and it comes out of him ragged. Izuku can’t feel his fingers on the hand Kacchan’s squeezing. “How am I…What did they…?” His voice goes quiet until he trails off, broken.

This is the part Izuku doesn’t want to say. He wishes he could freeze time in this moment, where he can protect Kacchan from the pain of knowing forever, wrapped up in warmth together so no one can ever hurt them again.

But Kacchan deserves to know. 

“Edgeshot,” Izuku’s voice comes out quiet as a whisper. “He used his quirk to save you. He stitched you back together and kept you stable until...you know. Best Jeanist said he — "

“He’s gone,” Kacchan’s voice sounds tight, like he’s trying to keep himself from trembling. “Isn’t he?"

Izuku closes his eyes. 

Red.

“Yes,” he answers.

And then Kacchan starts to cry.

Usually when Kacchan cries it’s more ragged growl than sob, but now he’s all but screaming into the quiet. Wordless sounds of agony and pain wretch from his convulsing body. Izuku finds them both sitting up, his arms wrapped around Kacchan as he shakes, trying to keep his friend from clawing at the bandages wrapped around his chest. Kacchan scrapes red trails down his face, almost clawing at the tears he must be cursing inside. Izuku pins his hand down with his before blunt nails can break skin.

“Kacchan…?” Izuku says into his hair, meaning to soothe but nothing more comes out. There’s nothing he can say to make this easier for Kacchan. All he can do is be here for him. 

Izuku holds him tight, squeezing him tighter and tighter until Kacchan’s arms wrap around his middle, pulling him so close he almost loses his breath. Izuku rocks back and forth and feels Kacchan grow heavier in his arms, like the fight is wearing out of him. Desperate hands grip the fabric of Izuku’s hospital robe. They’re hot to the touch, even through layers of fabric and bandages.

“Kacchan…” Izuku breathes again and again words fail him. He pours every bit of emotion he can, hoping his friend understands the meaning in every syllable.

Kacchan’s forehead presses to his shoulder and blooms a dull ache there too where the muscle is sore, but Izuku doesn’t give a damn. He just holds on. He buries his hair in Kacchan’s fluffy spikes and breathes, I’m here, I’m here over and over until Kacchan’s rigid body relaxes just a fraction in his hold. 

It’s enough that they fall back against the pillows, still holding onto each other, like they’re in free fall, like they’re the only ones there for each other in the whole world. And really, that’s exactly what they are, Izuku realizes. 

I’m never letting you go, he finds himself promising. 

I’m here.

At some point, Kacchan’s cries start to sound like why, why, why again, why like this, why and Izuku winds a hand into his hair, scratching lightly over the back of his scalp. It doesn’t ease the pain, but it feels like something.

“He was a hero. He had to save you, Kacchan,” Izuku says into the soft down of his hair.

He feels the blonde shake his head against his chest.

“Why would he sacrifice himself? If I was dead, he — "

“He knew the risk,” Izuku interrupts. “…We…couldn’t afford to lose you.”

I couldn’t lose you, not like that, he doesn’t say. Not ever. 

If I lost you —

Kacchan breaks from his hold just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes are glassy and wet with tears and bottomless pain, but he still manages to glare. Those gleaming red eyes, they burn Izuku straight to his core.

“You know that’s not true,” he growls. A tear rolls down his cheek. “I barely laid a fucking scratch on that crusty bastard! Even at my strongest he wasted me like I was nothing but grime under his fucking feet. A worthless, good for nothing bug!”

Kacchan shakes his head, his eyes squeezed painfully tight, like he’s seeing something he doesn’t want to. “Why would Edgeshot — Why would anyone think my life’s worth a damn after that?!” He’s shaking Izuku by his shoulder now. “What the hell did I do to be here when he — ? He was a top ranked fucking pro! Just for what? For me?! We both know no one would give a fuck if I — "

Izuku slaps him.

He doesn’t totally realize he’s done it until he sees the shock on Kacchan’s face, his widened eyes and his mouth hung open slightly, his words dead in the air. The red mark on his cheek looks angry even in the dark.

“What the hell, Izuku?” Kacchan barks after a second and it snaps Izuku back into the moment. The white hot fury he felt flash in him at Kacchan’s words. He can’t stand hearing him talk like that. When has Kacchan ever sounded like that in his life? So he can’t stop himself from yelling back.

“Don’t ‘what the hell’ me, Kacchan!” He snaps back just as loud and Kacchan’s eyes widen, surprised by his tone. His tears seem to freeze with him. “Don’t you ever let me hear you say shit like that again or I swear to god — !!“ He grits his teeth, too pissed off to come up with a threat on the fly.

“O-or what?” Kacchan challenges. He probably meant to shout back, but his tone betrays some strange mix of awe and curiosity.

“Or I’ll kick your ass. Worse than Shigaraki,” Izuku finishes, acutely aware of how much he sounds like the boy staring back at him. 

He watches Kacchan’s wide eyes blink once, then twice, then a third time.

Then he snorts and a combination of a laugh and a sob tears out of him. He doubles over, trying to hide his face, but Izuku grips both sides of his head to keep him in his sights, immediately worried he said the completely wrong thing. The boy just continues to shake and for a frightful second he fears something must be really wrong with Kacchan, that something’s finally snapped in him that can’t be put back together, but the blonde just looks up at him and shakes his head like he knows what Izuku’s thinking, like the gesture should soothe the worry in him.

His worries still tumble out of him, confused and horrified at himself for losing control of his tongue. “Kacchan? What’s wrong? Are you okay? What is it?”

Kacchan wheezes and then his face breaks out into the biggest, uninhibited smile Izuku’s ever seen him make. 

“Your face!” Kacchan laughs, really truly laughs. “That look on your face when you said that was —" He can’t even finish the sentence because he actually snorts out his nose and keeps laughing. Izuku’s heart stutters.

“Wha?” His tongue feels thick and useless.

Kacchan shakes from his grip and just pulls Izuku closer as his laughter fades. His heart doesn’t let up.

“Is this a dream?”

“Shut up, Izuku,” Kacchan murmurs, pressing his forehead to Izuku’s cheek. There’s no bite to it. It comes out as more than a sigh than anything and the warmth of the words sends a shiver over his skin.

The arms around his torso tighten and by instinct Izuku returns his own to wrap around Kacchan’s shoulders, a hand scratching the back of his head.

“Sleep,” Kacchan orders.

Izuku nods, unable to find his words now that they’re touching from shoulder to hip, their legs interwoven under them. He’s acutely aware of everywhere they’re touching. He knows he wouldn’t have to try to list them off later, point by point already committed to permanent memory.

And he decides it’s...good. Really good.

He doesn’t know what that means.

All he knows is that Kacchan’s hair smells sweet and the scent lulls him into maybe the best sleep of his life.

__________

They’re in the back of Aizawa-sensei’s car, quiet while Present Mic chatters in the passengers seat despite the fact that the rest of the car is quiet. Izuku can see in the reflection of the rearview mirror that Aizawa rolls his eyes and sighs every so often and he wonders if that’s how he and Mic-sensei communicate somehow. Or maybe it just eggs Present Mic on to bother him more.

Izuku doesn’t pay them much attention in favor of jotting down his final notes on the past few weeks.

Every now and again he steals a glance at Kacchan next to him.

Izuku notices he keeps clenching and unclenching his right hand in and out of a fist. It’s still wrapped up, but thanks to physical therapy Kacchan’s starting to get a hang of moving it, slowly unraveling the stiffness. He hasn’t tested his quirk yet, but the doctors assured him it should work fine once he’s fully healed and cleared to train again. 

In the meantime, Kacchan’s started practicing doing everything with just his left hand. Izuku can tell that even though he’s improved a lot in the past weeks, he’s incredibly frustrated with how limited he is for the time being.

Neither of them have seen their new scars yet, always looking away from each other when the nurses change out the bandages. Even the scar on Kacchan’s face has stayed hidden under the white bandages patched across his right cheek and up the side of his face.

He wonders if Kacchan will take off the bandages when they get to the dorms. Heat rises up his chest and he tries to swallow it down.

“Oi, nerd, quit staring’,” the blonde’s gruff voice scolds him, not turning to look.

Izuku’s face heats up and he quickly looks away. “Sorry, Kacchan.”

“Whatever,” he mutters. “If you have something to say, just say it and stop looking at me…like that.”

Izuku’s ears pique in interest at that. Kacchan’s voice sounded…weird just now.

“Like what, Kacchan?” Izuku turns to see an annoyed scowl on his friend’s face.

His red eyes narrow before he breaks. “Nothing,” he grumbles to the window. “Don’t dodge the subject. What were you going to say? You were clearly thinking something.”

“Uhm,” Izuku gulps. He was thinking something, but doesn’t want to say. “No, I wasn’t…I-it’s nothing, Kacchan. Forget it.”

He feels the warmth run up his neck and hopes to god that he’s not blushing as much as he feels like he is.

Kacchan gives him one more squinting look before turning away.

“Whatever,” the boy scoffs as the car comes to a stop.

“Quit bickering, problem children,” Aizawa-sensei deadpans and pulls the parking break. “We’re here.”

They grab their bags, carrying the few things their parents brought them in the hospital, and make the short walk back to the dorm.

Just short of the door, Aizawa and Present Mic hang back.

“You’re not coming in, sensei?” Izuku asks.

“I don’t feel like being mobbed today,” the man waves as he turns away. “Good luck in there.”

Kacchan shares a look with Izuku.

“You ready?”

He grins back. “Ready.”

They manage to get inside, take off their shoes and take all of three steps inside before someone spots them.

“They’re here!” A shout comes from the common room and then they’re bombarded from all sides with tearful hugs and relieved voices.

“Midoriya! Bakugou! You’re alive!” Kaminari throws his arms around them both, Kirishima right behind him, almost knocking Kacchan with the force of his hug.

“Get offa me, idiot,” Kacchan grumbles, but it has none of his usual bite. In fact, he throws his good arm around Kaminari’s shoulders while both his friends blubber incoherently into his strong shoulder. He even throws in a chaste pat for good measure and a bump of his head against Kirishima’s.

“Bakugouuu!” the red-haired boy practically wails. 

Izuku doesn’t have long to watch the display before he’s tugged out of Kaminari’s hold and tackled by his own friends. Todoroki’s warm hand finds his shoulder and squeezes tight while Uraraka hugs around his middle. He thinks she’s crying but can’t tell. Iida presses a big hand into his hair and ruffles the mess, standing over the three of them like a sentinel protector.

“You really scared us back there, you two,” Iida scolds lightly with a huge smile on his face. He’s holding his glasses in his hand, fogged over with tears. 

“Welcome home,” Todoroki sighs, relief heavy in his voice.

Their friend throws his other arm around Kacchan’s shoulders as the rest of the class join in on the hug.

And again, Kacchan lets them.

__________

After a while, eventually Yaoyorozu convinces everyone to let Katsuki and Izuku settle into their rooms and rest before dinner, rallying them back to the common room to plan something special. Over both of his idiot friends’ shoulders. Katsuki shoots her a grateful glance. He’s barely been out of the hospital a day and it’s already worn him out — not that he’d let these guys see him drag his feet like a goddamn loser. 

“Off. Now.” He orders. Kirishima steps back, but Kaminari tightens the hold he has around his shoulders. The blond looks up at him with watery puppy dog eyes. Katsuki notices the swelling and redness around his eyes and nose, like he’s been crying for days.

Katsuki groans before dropping his voice to a low growl only he and Kirishima can hear. “I’m fine, dumbass. I’m not fucking going anywhere.”

Kaminari sniffles. “You came back,” he whimpers, his voice small. He’s still trembling.

“What? You fucking doubted me or something?” Katsuki breathes a humorless laugh and he feels his friend do the same.

“No way, never,” he chuckles. 

Good.

After a second, the blond sniffles and steps back, rubbing his eyes on his sleeve. “Right, right. Sorry, dude.” On his left, Kirishima flashes a thumbs up. 

“Get some rest, man.”

Katsuki just huffs and steps past them, trying not to sway as he walks. He feels pathetic having to drag himself across the common room, his basically empty bag heavy on his shoulder, but he bites down the feeling in favor of…something good, relieving even.

Katsuki won’t say it, but…it is nice to see everyone. 

He tries not to think about how that makes him feel soft.

He manages to grab Izuku and drag him in tow to the elevator. The nerd looks tired too, but he’s probably too happy to notice.

It’s good he’s smiling again at least.

He hasn’t seen the nerd give a genuine smile in months.

The war and the days leading up to the final battle changed all of them, but he was afraid of what it would do to Izuku in the end. It's been on his mind for a while now. He saw a familiar light fading in those eyes over the past few months as the weight of the whole world threatened to snuff it out for good. 

The thought of that light going out pisses him off more than anything.

And though it’s been there ever since he woke up to the nerd at his bedside, Katsuki knows better than to take his eyes off him again. Never fucking again.

Especially when there are moments, he catches Izuku just staring at him. And others when that stare goes blank and it seems like he’s pulling himself away from something.

He’s hiding something again. Katsuki doesn’t like it.

At the elevators, Katsuki gives Izuku’s hand two quick squeezes before dropping it. He doesn’t remember who started it but over the past few days it’s become a thing they do to warn the other they’re letting go.

Izuku seems to like it, so he keeps doing it.

The elevator dings and wordlessly, they step inside and Katsuki hits the buttons for both their floors. As they start to lift, he thinks not for the first time that when they go to their separate rooms it’ll be the farthest they’ve been from each other since they woke up in the hospital.

He flexes the fingers on his left hand, clenching and unclenching them. 

They reach Izuku’s floor first, but when the doors open, the nerd just stands there, staring into space with that gaze that says he’s thinking a hundred things at once. It’s annoying. An indecipherable code of information. He stares so long Katsuki has to press the button to keep the doors open before they close.

“Oi,” he says and Izuku snaps out of his trance. “It’s your floor.”

Izuku looks at him then the empty hallway. “Oh right,” he says, sounding dazed. “Uh, thanks, Kacchan. I’ll...I’ll see you later then.”

Izuku picks up his bag and steps out of the elevator. 

Katsuki’s heart lurches in his chest, like it desperately wants to follow. It takes him by surprise. He clutches the front of his shirt, staring down at the spot for a horrified moment.

Seriously? Now?!

The pulse is loud in his head. It hammers against the walls of his chest, but despite the roar in his ears he stays put, dropping his hand from his shirt and closing the grip around empty air. 

Bright green eyes turn back to meet his just as the doors close.

The pace quickens.

Damn it.

It’s only when the elevator stops on his floor and he steps out that he realizes how hard he’s started breathing, the pace quickening with every step toward his door.

Fuck. He needs to lie down. 

When the hell did he get so needy? Since when did he ever need anyone for anything?

He grits his teeth.

No, fuck that. He already knows when things changed.

It started with that feeling he couldn’t shake it for months, that uneasy crawling under his skin whenever he saw Izuku. It was like his senses were caught in a stand-still between wanting to get as far away from the guy as he could and smothering him under his thumb to keep him from running off alone. He didn’t know what it meant, basically said as much to All Might when he finally cornered him about the shit he was hiding about the Fourth User guy.

And then he got run through by All For One and everything sharpened to perfect clarity in the instant of impact. It was like cleaning your glasses and suddenly realizing just how foggy they fucking were before you remembered how clear and crisp the world can look. It’s almost funny how obvious everything is when you can finally fucking see it for what it is and not the bullshit you made it to be.

Of course it took a war for him to get head out of his ass enough to see the truth of it:

The undeniable truth that Katsuki would lay down his life for Izuku, all his shitty dreams and ambitions be damned. 

Because it all meant nothing to Katsuki without Izuku.

For a while, he’d thought that was it, the big revelation that flipped the world on its head. The nerd ran away, Katsuki brought him back to school and for a hot minute, shit almost felt normal. They thought the end was in sight. That day, they went into the final battle thinking they were ready for anything.

Then Izuku was ripped away from him. Again. And Shigaraki wanted to kill him. Again.

And the world stilled as he faced death and looked truth right in the eye. Again. 

The fog cleared and the final piece of a long-suffering puzzle fell into place right as he saw stars and his heart burst in his fucking chest and the world went black then in the next instant endlessly bright white. 

He’d do anything for Izuku. Because when it came down to it, nothing matters but him. 

Because Katsuki loves him.

Apparently, more than anything, even life.

It feels like a fucking joke: falling for a self-sacrificial idiot and doing everything you can to keep the fucker from throwing his damn life away just to sacrifice your own shitty life for him at the drop of a hat.

Katsuki really fucking hates irony.

The fact his shitty, busted heart already goes crazy every time the nerd even shift a fucking breath away from him is so fucking twisted it's almost funny again.

“Goddamnit,” he mutters under his breath as he struggles to get his key into the lock, forcing a sharp pain to the surface when he turns and opens the door with his bad hand. “Fucking open, damn it!”

It’s like his heart is screaming now. Go back, fucker. Go back right fucking now.

You need to go back to him. 

Somehow he gets the door open.

The room’s too cold when he finally steps inside. It’s dark with his blackout curtains drawn and more barren than he remembers leaving it. It feels like it belongs to a stranger.

Immediately, he drops his belongings by the door and opens his wardrobe to change out of his clothes. They wreak of sterile hospital air and dried sweat and he needs the grimy feeling off of his skin yesterday. He considers taking a shower, but doesn’t want to bother leaving his room for the communal showers. (Or fuck with his bandages.) With how ragged his breathing’s getting just stripping out of his shirt, he doesn’t think he could make it to the showers even if he tried. So Katsuki grits his teeth and settles for a pair of sweats and a loose sweatshirt over his bare bandages before hobbling into bed, his heart still pounding all the while.

“Like a fucking old man…Goddamn weak heart…Fucking sucks,” he growls under his breath as he slams his head to the pillow. He pulls the covers up to his chin and burrows into the chilly sheets. Damn, hospital sheets have nothing on this. He’s gotta thank the old hag one day for insisting o the higher thread count. She was right, it does make a difference. 

Katsuki settles in and stills, trying to will the irritation in his chest by breathing deep and counting down from one hundred with every slow inhale and exhale. His heart tries to pound against the wall of his chest, but even it starts to slowly relent to the comfort surrounding him. He feels the tired ache settle into every muscle and joint in his body, finally at rest after moving around all morning. Eventually, he calms down.

He wonders if Izuku’s happy to be home too.

The reminder of the nerd doesn't help him relax.

He gets to forty-five before it really starts to piss him off. Normally he’s knock himself out before he even gets to eighty. 

“What the fuck?” he asks to the ceiling.

He tries rolling onto his side. (Ow.) Then his stomach. (Ow.) He punches the pillows. Takes one away. Sticks it under his legs. (Nope.) He flips over so his head is at the foot of the bed. (Goddamnit, not even that?!)

He’s about to try sticking his legs in the air and hang upside down when there’s a quick knock at the door.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, figuring it must be one of his asshole friends worrying about him again. “Stupid, needy bastards…told ‘em I’m fine.” He’s about to yell when he swings the door open and finds Izuku Midoriya on the other side, twiddling his thumbs with a wide-eyed look on his face. That fucking look he hasn’t stopped giving Katsuki since he woke up. 

Then there goes his fucking heart, kicking extra hard a couple times before finally satisfied enough to settle to something resembling rest.

“Kacchan!” He squeaks, startled. It looks like he changed and tried to get to bed right away too, dressed in an oversized shirt with a faded logo and boxer shorts. He’s not even wearing slippers, just socks.

Calm the fuck down, he thinks to himself.

“What are you doing? You’re supposed to be resting, nerd,” Katsuki barks, irritated at the heavy sag in Izuku’s shoulders. “I know your ass is tired, so don’t bothering trying to lie.”

The nerd rubs his eye his shirt sleeve, maybe bothered by how bright the light still is. “It’s not that, Kacchan, I am tired. I just…” The green-haired boy yawns. It’s really cute (and again, unfair). “I know it’s lame, but I just can’t sleep. It’s too quiet...” He meets Katsuki’s eye and offers a shy smile.

Fucking shitting bleeding hell. This asshole.

Katsuki looks away before his ears start to smoke from how bad he feels them burning.

“Yeah,” he admits gruffly then pushes the door open wider. “Alright. The bed’s here’ll be a tight squeeze but whatever, we’ll still fit.” 

Izuku grins. “Really? You don’t mind? I can grab a pillow and sleep on the fl—“

“Just get in, Izuku.” 

Like hell he’d let the nerd sleep on the floor. How fucking long have they been basically connected at the hip since the hospital? Holding hands and shit? Did Izuku think he was just going to pretend it didn’t happen once they got back?

Katsuki doubted he could even if he wanted to.

Izuku’s green eyes visibly brighten. “Thanks, Kacchan!”

Their shoulders brush as he steps inside.

Izuku obviously tries to take in every detail of the space from the second he steps inside. He walks right up to the book shelves and tilts his head to read the spines, oohing and ahhing at the hero anthologies on display. 

“Kacchan! I didn’t know you had this special edition of the Silver Age! You gotta let me borrow it! Whoa! I’ve wanted to pick up this one on the history of American heroes for a while! I watched this review video from this quirk analyst — Well I guess they’re more a hobbyist, but anything —They were saying that…”

Katsuki doesn’t have the energy to stop the nerd from rambling on and doesn’t want to admit he’s missed the habit so he just flops back onto the bed tiredly and listens as the nerd goes off on tangent after tangent. 

His eyes are so bright with light the whole time.

Good.

“Huh,” Izuku interrupts himself mid-thought.

“Hm,” Katsuki grunts.

“This is my first time seeing your room,” he says.

“Yeah, well, congrats. You’re the first one,” he mumbles, his good arm tossed over his face.

“Really? Me? Not even Kirishima or Kaminari?” Izuku sounds surprised. 

“Nope,” he answers, removing him arm to make room. The bed is smaller than the one they shared in the hospital. He feels the bed dip and scoots himself until his back touches the cold wall.

(“Where you going, Kacchan,” Izuku murmurs his words like a little kid, like sleep is already taking him just a second after hitting the pillow. “S’cold.”)

An arm circles round him, pulling him closer until his senses are nothing but mint and herbs and the promise of a summer storm. Warmth radiates through his sweatshirt and fills him down to the pit of his belly. He throws his own arm over Izuku’s waist and pulls him close for more, more warmth, more, more.

It’s strange how natural it feels to settle against each other like this.

The blanket gets tugged up around them. Izuku’s green eyes find his, practically glowing in the dimmed light. It’s barely afternoon, but Katsuki’s curtains make it feel much later.

"Anyway, like I was saying," the nerd pipes up once they're settled. Katsuki rolls his eyes. Of course Izuku's nosy ass wouldn't just let it go.

“I just find it hard to believe because you three are so close,” he insists, saying it like it’s an observation he made a long time ago but is only just now saying.

Katsuki doesn't know what to think of that. He shrugs a shoulder.

“Don’t like people in my space. Let the fuckers in once and they never leave or stop pounding on your door to borrow.” Katsuki yawns, eyelids heavy.

“Oh,” Izuku tenses the smallest fraction. “...Do you want me to go then?”

Not a fucking chance.

“You just got here,” Katsuki breathes.

A small smile plays at the nerd’s lips. “Ok, Kacchan,” he breathes back.

__________

Izuku doesn’t know what they’re doing. This unspoken closeness they’re both suddenly started sharing is nice  — really nice — and he doesn’t want to shatter whatever momentum’s carried them this far. It feels too good to be true, being with Kacchan like this, holding each other in the half light.

So he forces his mind blank and takes it for all its worth.

He was terrified whatever spell they’d been under would break the moment they left the hospital. He was afraid any acknowledgement of their closeness would shatter the illusion and drive another wedge between them. As if they could sense it, no one even commented about them sharing the bed aside from their mothers. One morning, they both just stopped in the doorway and clasped each others’ hands at the sight of them facing each other on the bed, playing cards.

“Oh, look at you two!” his mother squeezed, immediately teary-eyed.

“Reminds me of when you were brats,” Auntie Mitsuki smirked.

Kacchan just rolled his eyes, but otherwise, made no comment.

The walk from the elevator to his door pained him more with every step. His pulse was in his throat and the pressure in his head made him feel like his skull would split from the thoughts flooding him. It felt...wrong watching Kacchan disappear from his line of sight and doing nothing but let him go. He spent about ten minutes pacing his room, a hairsbreadth away from a full on breakdown, then forty more agonizing over whether or not to leave his room before he finally dragged himself up to Kacchan’s floor.

He was afraid Kacchan would turn him away at his door.

But here they are.

Kacchan’s eyes are closed and his breathing is slow and deep. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps, all the tension gone from his face leaving only a serene expression Kacchan would never make otherwise. Whenever Izuku’s hand cards through his hair, lightly scratching the shorter hair at the base of his neck, the boy hums a small sigh. 

It’s too perfect to be real.

And yet there’s nothing more real than this.

How far does it go? He wonders. How close will Kacchan let him get before he’s cut off. Because the more he’s allowed, the more Izuku grows addicted to this closeness. 

Everything is different now.

Izuku doesn’t know what exactly Kacchan’s gone through since the war started, not since he left the hospital and UA without a word last spring.

They barely talked when Izuku got back, not in the way they should have after everything. By Kacchan’s bedside int he hospital, he tried to scrub his memories for a moment they could have, but every time he did he come up empty.

It just…never felt like the right time, he’d say.There’s more important things to think about, he’d tell himself. 

There will be time after all this is done, he’d soothe himself with the thought when he’d see Kacchan from a far and keep his distance.

There are other things more important. He’d say it over and over again.

The words sat in his throat like a lump the second he laid eyes on Kacchan in the hospital bed, frozen in the doorway while his chest heaved with sobs.

If his eyes never opened, if Izuku never saw the deep red of his irises catch fire, those words would have haunted him the rest of his life until he went mad.

They’re here now at the end of it all.

They finally have it, all this space to talk.

And for once, Izuku doesn’t have any words. 

He turns those thoughts over and over in his mind as he traces a thumb over his smooth cheek, his touch featherlight. It’s burning hot.

“Hey Kacchan?” He whispers.

“Hm,” the blond stirs and grunts sleepily. Izuku can’t tell if he was already asleep or just good at pretending.

“Aren’t you too warm? You’re wearing a sweater.” He presses the back of hit hand to Kacchan’s forehead. Though he’s not sweating yet, it’s just as hot as his cheek.

“S’ok,” Kacchan grumbles, brow furrowed.

Izuku frowns back, though Kacchan doesn’t see it. “But you’re burning up.”

“M'fine, 'Zuku.”

“Kacchan,” he tries to keep his voice even.

There’s a long pause before Kacchan blinks his eyes open, slow like a cat. He seems to mull over his words before admitting, “…Don’t wanna see ‘em…N'yet.” His eyes flutter closed again on he tail end of his words, pulled back by sleep.

The bandages. He's talking about his bandages, he realizes.

And if that doesn’t just make Izuku’s heart ache.

Izuku can see the edge of the bandages peeking from under the collar of Kacchan’s sweatshirt. They go around his entire torso and down his right arm as well as up the side of his neck, much more than Izuku’s.

“Kacchan, when you have to change them...” 

Kacchan’s eyebrows knit and a crease forms between them, pensive with thought. Izuku wants to ease it away. 

He swallows dry, thinking. His hands lift to cradle Kacchan’s face.

Eyes closed, Kacchan sleepily leans into the touch, nuzzles against Izuku’s palm in a way that’s so gentle it makes Izuku want to scream. 

“...I’ll help you…if you want,” Izuku offers lightly, anticipating the sting of rejection.

But it doesn’t come.

“Thanks,” Kacchan murmurs, voice rough but less slurred than befor. “Rest, nerd. Dinner’s in a few hours.”

Izuku thinks his heart does a flip.

Kacchan shifts, but the tension in his body doesn’t ease until Izuku’s hand returns to his hair, scratching light circles. Izuku doesn’t stop even when sleep finally finds him.

__________

“Do you really think they’re both in there? It looks like they haven’t checked their texts.”

“Midoriya wasn’t in his room so he must be.”

“Should we check to make sure? What do we do?”

“Go in?”

“Do you think we’ll get exploded if we do?”

“You do it, Todoroki. You’re fireproof.”

“And Bakugou-proof.”

Shoto shrugs. “Ok.”

He opens the door slowly while the other guys all hold their breath behind them. He gets it open just enough to stick his head inside. It’s dark, but he can see inside enough to note the lump of a body in the bed — Bakugou, by the bright blond spikes — and an empty space on the floor where he expected to find one of them sleeping.

Huh. Where’s Midoriya?

Then he realizes the shape of the lump is definitely not one but two — dark and shaggy, he can just make out now next to the blond — tangled together under the down comforter.

Oh, ok.

Shoto closes the door and turns to report his findings. “Yeah, they’re fine,” he says simply. “Let’s let them sleep.”

Chapter Text

It doesn’t take long for the others to notice something’s changed about Kacchan.

They wake up a lot later than they planned and emerge from Kacchan’s room well after dinner only to find that everyone waited for them to sit down and eat together. Izuku wants to cry when he sees the spread.

They’re sitting together around the common room, Izuku pressed next to Kacchan on the couch with Shoji next to Izuku and Sero on the other side of Kacchan. Everything feels normal until Kacchan asks Sero to pass him the chili flakes.

All conversation around the circle screeches to a halt. Izuku only notices it a second too late when he realizes he’s the only one still talking. He follows his classmates’ eyes to the source of the commotion but doesn’t understand what’s so strange until he notices the dumbfound look on Sero’s face. He looks like someone just pantsed him, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.

“Uh…you ok, man?” His words sound he’s choosing them carefully, like he’s expecting immediate blowback.

But Kacchan just kinda half-shrugs, half-nods as he takes another spoonful of curry and rice. “M’fine.”

Sero blinks a couple times. “But you…called me my name. Like, my real name.”

“Yup,” Kacchan agrees casually. “Can ya pass me the damn chili flakes now?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Sero shakes his head to himself, like he’s snapped out of a trance and still trying to make sense of it. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Kacchan murmurs as he spoons the bright red spice over his food and aggressively mixes it. When he’s finished, he looks up to find everyone still looking at him. “What?”

The rest of the class seems to snap out of the same trance then. Slowly, the volume rises as conversations get picked back up and dinner resumes.

It happens a second time during clean up.

Kaminari and Kirishima intercept them on the way to the kitchen with big grins on their faces.

“Bakugou, we’ve been on dishes since you and Midoriya were gone. We’ll take care of your stuff, don’t worry about it!” Kirishima explains with a toothy grin. The words come out loud and fast, like he couldn’t wait another second to say them. He must be excited that Kacchan’s back, Izuku thinks with a smile.

“Thanks guys,” Izuku chimes as he hands Kirishima his plate.

Kacchan tries to hand Kaminari the dish in his hands wordlessly, but gets stopped when Kaminari wags a finger in front of his face, a teasing gleam in his eye, “Uh-uh-uh, what do you say, Bakugouuu?” He leans into the teasing, obviously trying to get a rise out of Kacchan. They know it’s his very Kaminari-way of trying to lighten the mood and cheer them both up, even if all it earns him is a blast to the face. “How’s about ‘Thank you, Denki, you’re my hero and the best, most awesome perfect dude to ever walk this earth?' That sound like a good start?”

Kacchan stares down at him for a silent moment and for a tense second Izuku’s afraid Kacchan’s going to pop an explosion from his hand in Kaminari’s face.

But Kacchan just shoves his hand in his pockets and says in a quieter voice than normal, “Thanks, Denki.” Then shoves his dish into Kaminari’s open hands.

Izuku watches about a dozen emotions flash on Kaminari’s face before his eyes water and he gives a loud, wet sniffle.

“What the hell, that is so not fair,” his voice wobbles with tears, his head ducked down, “I’m too emotional for you to just say stuff like that, man.”

Kacchan huffs a breath and raises his hand and lightly flicks Kaminari’s forehead. “You just asked me to, dumbass,” he says in his usual gruff tone before shuffling back to the common room, tugging along Izuku in tow.

Kacchan pointedly ignores all the curious stares directed his way.

__________

Katsuki’s right. There’s something up with Izuku.

While everyone keeps gawking at him for not being a total asshole for once, it’s like no one notices how spacey and weird the nerd’s been ever since they woke up. He seemed find when they fell asleep, but even long into dinner, there seems to be a haze around Izuku that has to be more than just residual sleep.

He actual made Tentacle Guy the talkative one in a conversation. How does no one else see that that’s weird??

After clean up, everyone in the class gathers around the couches to watch a movie together. Kaminari won’t fucking leave him alone after the whole Denki thing, so he finds himself trapped between Kaminari and Todoroki, the half-and-half bastard’s warmer side leaning against Katsuki’s already overheated body. Izuku plops down on the spot right in front of Katsuki's legs on the floor.

When the nerd leans back and nudges his head against Katsuki’s hand so he can scratch his hair like a damn puppy, his damn traitor of a heart kicks up again like a brat wanting attention.

Goddamnit. He’s already starting to sweat.

He groans when Kaminari leans his head on his shoulder, still all sniffly and clingy. Somehow Kirishima’s squeezed in on Kaminari’s other side and slings an arm over the back of the couch casually.

Katsuki’s boxed in by nerds and idiots on all sides.

“Can we fucking get on with the damn movie already?” He groans then adds on the end a disgruntled, “Please…”

Kaminari sniffles.

“And can we keep it light?” Kirishima thankfully requests with a raised hand.  “I vote some kind of rom-com, personally.”

“Ooh, I really like this one about these two dancers!” Ashido jumps up, “It’s really light hearted and the musical numbers are so cool!”

“Wonderful idea!” Iida praises as he jots down the idea on a whiteboard that appeared out of nowhere.

“I saw an ad for this buddy comedy hero movie,” Uraraka offers next, “It’s fiction, but it’s supposed to be based off of All Might’s early days in the US.”

“Another stellar idea!” Iida writes it underneath Ashido’s idea. “Any other suggestions?”

They go around until there’s a list of four solid movie suggestions, then go back around to vote. Katsuki doesn’t particularly care what they watch, but the dance movie sounds promising so that’s what he casts his vote for.

And of course Ashido basically squeals her head off when he does.

Katsuki rolls his eyes. It’s barely been a day and he’s already sick of everyone looking at him like he’s got a third head just for keeping his voice down.

It’s not that he doesn’t feel like yelling. He just knows he needs to keep cool. Doctor’s orders.

He flexes his right hand into a fist and forces a deep breath.

Then it’s Izuku’s turn.

“Oi, nerd,” Katsuki grunts. Izuku’s been quiet throughout the whole discussion, staring at a spot on the floor, spacing out again. Normally, the nerd would at least try to suggest some kind of hero flic. Annoyed, Katsuki pokes the top of his head, hard, to snap him out of it and the nerd actually jumps a little. “Izuku!”

“Oh, uh,” Izuku sounds dazed. “Uhm, I…I’m fine with anything.” 

Katsuki frowns, though the nerd doesn’t see. 

“Midoriya, it’s imperative you cast a vote for the democratic process to take place,” Iida waves his arm in that annoying chopping motion he always does.

Izuku ends up taking a long look at the board and voting for the option with the least votes.

No one seems to think anything of it, but it doesn’t sit right with Katsuki.

“Oi,” he pokes the top of his green head again. “You gonna sit on the floor all night and fuck your back up again, nerd?”

Izuku half turns to meet Katsuki’s glare. He smiles a little, but Katsuki sees a weariness in it the nerd’s obviously trying to keep to himself.

“I’m fine, Kacchan,” he says, “It’s comfortable.”

As if. “Comfortable my ass,” Katsuki grumbles and elbows Todoroki next to him and the guy automatically shifts to make room. The asshole's basically falling asleep already and the lights have barely even gone down.

“C’mere,” he grunts to Izuku and pulls him by the collar up onto the couch.

“Kacchan!” Izuku tries to protest, but Katsuki’s not having it right now.

He pulls Izuku onto the couch next to him, basically half in his lap with his legs draped over Katsuki’s.

“You’re sitting here,” Katsuki says without any room for discussion. “Now shut up, we’re watching a movie.”

After a tense second, Izuku relents, burrowing into the crease of the couch cushions with his head on Katsuki’s shoulder. His hand finds Katsuki’s and squeezes. Katsuki counts that as a win.

“Thank you, Kacchan,” Izuku whispers and though he’s not looking at the nerd, he can hear the little smile in it.

“Shut it, nerd,” he whispers back. “Let’s see if these fuckers can really dance.”

__________

They fall into a routine over the next few weeks.

Every morning finds them together, more often in Kacchan’s bed with Izuku bundled in all the covers the other kicked off in the night. When Kacchan inevitably snoozes his first alarm at 6:00am and groans back to sleep, Izuku gets to lay awake next to him and count his breaths until the next round of alarm sounds. 

(He wonders if Kacchan knows Izuku always wakes up at the first alarm and allows it willingly, that maybe he’s pretending to sleep and doing the same to Izuku, taking in the closeness and warmth like it’s a fleeting resource, stockpiling it in the present for when it’s scarce later. That sounds too much to hope for though. It’s more likely Kacchan would call him a weirdo perv for watching him in his sleep if he knew, even jokingly.) 

It's a reminder he likes to start the day on. With his ear pressed to Kacchan’s chest, the steady thrum of the taller boy's’s heartbeat against his cheek, it’s easier for Izuku to remember that yes, he’s alive, he’s real, he’s here.

He’s safe.

That's a good reminder to cling to when the nightmares won't shake loose. It's the main reason they haven’t slept apart since they got back to the dorms.

That and he thinks he’d break the arm of anyone who tried to force them to sleep in their own rooms.

The nightmares come for them differently. Kacchan always wakes up in the night, shaking and lost when Izuku wakes up to soothe him. Izuku on the other hand always seems to sleep through them until morning. He doesn't know if Kacchan ever wakes up for them.

The first time he's woken up by Kacchan's nightmares, the blond bolts upright with a strangled cry, gasping for breath and clawing at his heaving chest.

Izuku’s awake a second later, hands already reaching out to the boy next to him while his brain rebooted out of sleep, lagging just behind his body.

“Kacchan, it’s ok, it’s ok, breathe.” Izuku has him caged in to focus solely on him, cradling him firmly with his hands on either side of Kacchan’s neck and trying to keep his voice as calm and even as possible. “Look at me. You’re ok. It’s ok, just breathe.”

He makes Kacchan meet his eyes and exaggerates the ins and outs of his breath for the boy in his hands to match. His red eyes have a panicked cagey look, like he’s still half in the nightmare and terrified of being pulled back in all the way. 

Kacchan’s mouth moves like he wants to speak, but all that comes out is a choked noise broken off by his next attempt at a breath. His red eyes stay glued to Izuku, pleading with him to understand as his gasps for breath turn to sob and his hands claw at the front of his sweatshirt shirt. 

It just about shatters Izuku’s heart.

“Kacchan, stop, your bandages — ” Izuku starts to pull his hands away from his shirt only for Kacchan to smack his hands away.

Kacchan shakes his head and his next sob almost sounds like his name and then a single word.

Off.

“You want them off,” Izuku understands and his hands start to pull up the edge of his sweatshirt. “Ok. Lift your arms.”

And somehow he’s still surprised when Kacchan obeys, lifting his arms so Izuku can pull his shirt off to reveal the bandages underneath.

And there are a lot of them. The blond’s entire torso is wrapped tightly down his entire rib cage and stomach then up his neck and across his right shoulder all the way down to his fingertips.

Not wasting any time, Izuku finds the edge of the gauze by Kacchan’s neck, takes it in his teeth and rips it clean. Right by his ear, he hears Kacchan gasp as the fabric gives way.

“I’ve got you, it’s ok, Kacchan,” Izuku touches their foreheads together once before his hands move to make quick work of the bandages.

The doctors said before they left that a majority of Kacchan’s healing had healed the internal damage, but that left the external surface wounds still tender and in need of protection, so Izuku tries to be as gentle as he can while still working quickly. 

As he unwinds the bandages from around Kacchan’s next, he notices his ragged breathing starts to slows and the dark in his eyes recedes.

“That’s it, Kacchan, you’re doing so good,” Izuku whispers and he feels Kacchan’s grip on his knee squeeze back at the praise. He hadn’t noticed when Kacchan started hanging onto him, but it seemed to help. “Just breathe for me, ok? Try to match me.”

Again, Kacchan obeys, matching his inhales and exhales to Izuku’s with perfect focus.

“Good, so good,” he mutters as he starts to reach Kacchan’s torso. As he gently pulls the first bandage from Kacchan’s chest, he feels the boy flinch.

“Don’t — ” Kacchan breathed weakly, wincing when the stuck bandages peeled from the healing skin. “Don’t look.”

“It’s ok,” Izuku soothes, knowing he can’t help but look as his hands work and the gauze unravels, revealing the first starburst wound in the center of his chest. “I’m here. I'm right here.”

Kacchan shuts his eyes, tips his head back and nods. But Izuku feels how hard he’s trembling.

Izuku breath catches when he sees the wound for the first time. It takes up the center of Kacchan’s chest with a long, jagged line of stitches down the center where Best Jeanist and Edgeshot haphazardly held him together until the surgeon took over. The tight skin around the partial healed wound is still pink and glistening with ointment the nurses applied back at the hospital. It’s like a sunburst in the center of Kacchan’s chest, an explosion going off high above the hard landscape of his abs.

He’s beautiful.

When the last of the gauze around Kacchan’s torso falls away, his skin fully exposed to the open air, they both start to cry.

“It’s ok,” Izuku presses his head to Kacchan’s, closing his eyes and taking in the warmth radiating off of him even still. “You’re safe, Kacchan. You did so good.”

They wait in a stretch of long silence until Kacchan slumps against him, his breathing finally normal and even.

“Feel like a baby. Crying so goddamn much,” Kacchan mutters bitterly, more to himself than to Izuku. It shouldn’t make him so happy to hear Kacchan curse but it does all the same.

“You’re a hero. Even heroes cry,” Izuku says gently. 

“You’d know,” Kacchan almost chuckles and it lightens the heaviness in Izuku’s chest a bit.

“You’re right,” he breathes his own laugh back. “I really do.”

Kacchan smirks at that. “M'not one to talk right now, but when we were kids I was convinced it was your quirk or something,” he does chuckle this time at the memory, nuzzling his forehead against Izuku’s, like he needs to be closer than just touching. Izuku’s own breath stutters at how natural the gesture feels.

That’s so cute, he thinks and his face immediately starts to burn.

Is that the first time he’s ever thought that? He can’t even say for sure.

Kacchan doesn’t notice, still recounting the memory in this low rasp that doesn’t help the pulse leaping in Izuku’s throat. “It wasn’t just that you cried a ton. Lots of kids cry. It was that I’d never seen someone cry tears as fucking huge as yours,” he laughs again and it’s stronger than a moment ago. “Thought you’d end up with a water quirk or something, like crying big ass tears and manipulating them to fly around like your mom’s telekinesis or something. When you said your dad had a fire quirk, I went home and told my ma I was convinced someone in you family had to be lying.”

Izuku smiles imagining all of that and has to bite his lip to keep it from splitting his face. He never knew any of that, never thought Kacchan even thought of him compared to his other friends when we were kids. 

He feels so warm and light he consciously has to keep from floating.

“You never told me that,” he finally says, pulling away just enough to meet Kacchan’s gaze. The deep red of them practically glows in the still dark of the room. Through all of his, Izuku forgot it was still the middle of the night. 

The boy shrugs his good shoulder, gaze dropping shyly to Izuku’s shoulder for a second before returning to his eyes. Holy shit, Izuku’s mind screams when he realizes. In all their lives, Kacchan has never looked anything close to shy before. 

“Hadn’t thought about it until the old hag found a box of my stuff from preschool when we moved to the dorms,” he explains, “Found a drawing I made her write my prediction on in case I turned out to be right. And of fucking course, she doesn't shut up about it now, even wanted to put it on the goddamn fridge so I can’t say I’m always right.”

“Kacchan!” Izuku has to keep himself from squealing. The tears are flowing before his friend even finishes talking. He throws his arms around the blond’s neck, careful not to touch where his wounds are still healing. “You really did that?!”

“Why would I lie, stupid?” Kacchan grumbles, fully himself again. Izuku imagines he’s scowling and it just makes him smile harder. “And pipe down, you’ll wake up the whole damn floor.”

Izuku giggles, too high on Kacchan’s story to feel embarrassed by it. “Was it of the two of us? The drawing?” He teases.

“Yeah,” Kacchan admits regretfully. 

Izuku holds him closer.

“I wanna see it.”

Kacchan throws his good arm around Izuku’s shoulder and he feels the boy’s breath in his hair when he agrees in a low rumble, “Ok.”

It takes a week after that for Izuku to finally ask Kacchan if he ever notices when he has bad dreams.

“Yeah,” Kacchan admits. “You don’t move, but I end up waking up anyway. You start sweating but you shiver like you’re cold…And you talk a lot.”

“About what?” Izuku cocks his head.

But Kacchan doesn’t say.

They don’t talk about what they dream about. Somehow, they just know.

Most mornings are slow, especially when they're up early. Classes are still suspended and everyone’s required to stay on campus and it’s clear that no one really knows what exactly to do. It’s supposed to be summer break in about a month and a half, so usually they'd be busy preparing for exams. They haven’t even officially graduated into the second year. They’re all stuck in a gray area for now.

Izuku watches Kacchan try to pretend to be somewhat normal, bits of his usual gruffness coming through the more time they spend back in the dorm around their classmates again.

Sometimes Izuku when it's just the two of them catches Kacchan staring at his scars in the mirror, always settling on the star in his chest before turning away with a deep grimace. The only scar Kacchan keeps unhidden is the slash that curves up his cheek

In those moments, Izuku just holds out his hand and Kacchan’s always finds it, squeezing twice before letting go.

They get better at spending parts of the day alone.

Kacchan seems to prefer most of the day outside of the dorm — He never says where, Izuku doesn't ask — while Izuku usually finds himself comfortably huddled at his desk rewatching hero documentaries while he writes in the notebook Aizawa-sensei gave him. Most days, he leaves his door open and his friends will come in and out to sit in peaceful quiet. Todoroki particularly finds a consistent comfortable spot on the floor to read while Izuku works. 

In the afternoons, the class naturally gathers around the common room. Sometimes they agree to all watch a movie, but most night they just split into groups to chip away at their supplementary work or watch tv and play games, just whatever lets them all be together in each others’ company. It’s wonderful. 

Most of the time Kacchan’s tugged between his friends who need his help with the questions and problems in assignments they had trouble on while he was gone to which Kacchan groans and scolds them harshly for ‘being too dumb to function without him for one goddamn week.’

Kirishima actually hugged Kacchan the first time he yelled at him about calculus, Kaminari and Jirou right behind him.

Izuku notices their friends all take note and adjust to the changes in the dynamic created by Kacchan and Izuku’s sudden closeness. He notices that though their classmates occasionally comment on Kacchan’s more calm demeanor, they never approach the subject of the two of them.

Until almost a month after the class reunited, Uraraka catches Izuku watching them from across the room and breaks the silence.

“Deku, you’ve been staring at Bakugou a lot lately,” she observes, no judgement in her tone at all, just like she’s saying just what she’s thinking.

Izuku startles out of his daze. “Oh, y-yeah, I guess so.”

Uraraka cocks her head, her big brown eyes looking at him with genuine curiosity. “You’ve seemed a lot closer since you got back,” she notes. “The guys say you stay in each others’ rooms a lot too.”

That makes Izuku’s face flash with sudden warmth. Does she mean hanging out in each others’ rooms (which yes, they do) or the sleeping in the same bed thing? If it’s the latter, he’s suddenly worried she might think that’s weird.

Is it weird? He hadn’t even thought about it. Does Kacchan think it’s weird? He would say if he did, right —

“Yeah, we do!” Izuku’s mouth blurts out.

Uraraka smiles warmly, her eyes crinkling with a knowing look Izuku can’t fully read. 

“It’s nice to see, especially remembering you two before our first hero training last year,” she laughs in her usual peppy tone, one he hasn’t heard in a while, while she pats him on the shoulder. “You must be happy.”

He can’t help but smile at his friend. He remembers how she was the first one to understand what Kacchan was to him, how she cheered him on in his goal to prove himself and beat Kacchan with his own strength.

Without thinking, he pulls her into a hug, catching both of them by surprise by the little ‘eep’ she makes.

“Yeah,” he laughs too, “I really am.”

She laughs again and pats his back, “Don’t cry, Bakugou’s watching, he’ll think I said something that upset you.”

Izuku pulls away, blinking his eyes to keep the threat of tears at bay. “Kacchan wouldn’t think that. You’re my friend.”

“He might,” she says still smiling. “Well, not that I hurt you, but I’m pretty sure he heard from Mina — Well that…” She breaths a humorless laugh. “…That I used to think I had a crush on you. He might think I confessed and made you feel guilty or something.”

But Izuku stops listening after the initial confession. He thinks this must be what Kaminari feels like when his quirk fries his brain.

“Wait? What?” His voice comes out too loud and it makes him jump again.

Uraraka just laughs and rolls her eyes. “I’m not surprised you didn’t know.” She leans casually against the armrest of the couch where they’re sitting. “Aoyama asked me if I did at the exam and for a while, I really didn’t know if that was what I really felt for you. It was confusing and I’d get flustered even thinking about it...Or about you sometimes too....I didn’t know what to do until I saw you and Bakugou that day we brought you back to UA.” 

She looks back at him in the unreadable way and suddenly Izuku feels exposed before her. 

“What do you mean?” He asks in a small voice.

She puts a finger to her chin, thinking for a moment. “I guess it just clicked in that moment,” she answers cryptically, “And then in my fight with Himiko Toga on the beach, you said it yourself. Just imitating someone isn’t the same as love. Like, the way you admired All Might. I realized that's the same way I admire you, as a hero and my friend. An image of who I want to be one day.” 

Izuku sniffles at that and this time she pulls him into a hug, rubbing comforting circles into his back. His heart feels like it’s about to burst. Out of all the letters, all the praise, this, this moment with one of his closest friends, it hits him at the very core of his being. He will never forget this moment.

“Thank you, Uraraka,” he manages out with a wobbly smile.

“You’re welcome, Deku,” she says. 

When they pull apart and Izuku’s mopped up his tears, a thought pops into his mind. 

“Wait. What did any of that have to do with Kacchan?” he asks.

But Uraraka just winks and puts a finger to her lips like it’s a secret. “Think you have to figure that one out yourself,” she says before standing up, pressing a chaste kiss to his head, the same way his mom would, and skipping off to the kitchen where some of the others are arguing over plans for dinner.

Izuku turns to watch her go, perplexed at her cryptic last words.

He catches a glimpse of red out of the corner of his eye and manages to catch Kacchan’s glare before he turns away, his shoulders hunched and visibly seething.

Figure what out...?

__________

Shoto sighs loudly, closing his book. It was boring anyway compared to the scene going on in the common room tonight.

He just so happened to sit in the perfect spot, next to Bakugou at the corner of the study table with nothing to impair the view of the couch where Midoriya and Uraraka were just talking and where Midoriya now sits alone, visibly confused and innocently naive to the situation.

Because Bakugou’s clearly pissed off by whatever just happened. 

At the start, Shoto didn’t think much of it until he kept noticing Bakugou’s eyes shift to the couch more than normal. It wasn’t a strange occurrence these days to catch either Midoriya or Bakugou staring when the other wasn’t looking. But Shoto couldn’t help but notice the absolute aggravation radiating off of Bakugou as the conversation went on, though the blond hid it well compared to before when he’d explode into a violent outburst at the drop of an inconvenient or annoying hat.

The first time Midoriya and Uraraka hugged he thought Bakugou was going to crack a tooth from how tight he clenched his jaw.

The second time Bakugou stopped pretending he wasn’t staring, glaring daggers at the two until Midoriya turned around to finally notice.

Now, Bakugou’s seething while he scratches the answer into his workbook so hard he snaps the pencil lead every other word.

Good grief. Shoto already has a headache.

“Hey,” he says to the blond. Over time he’s learned it’s better to just ask than stay in the dark and parse it out himself. His friends are complicated people. “What’s wrong? Is it Midoriya?”

“Fuck off,” Bakugou grumbles, but doesn’t deny.

Shoto glances at the couch then back at Bakugou. “I don’t think the hug meant anything,” he decides to say.

“Which one?” Bakugou mutters, quiet enough Shoto almost misses it. Then he slams his pencil and workbook closed and stands up abruptly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I need some air. Going for a walk.”

Before he disappears around the corner, the blond turns his head and shoots him a look like, ‘What are you? Stupid?"

Oh, I guess I’m going too, Shoto realizes and stands up to follow.

They walk in silence for a while, following the paths around the UA campus, until Bakugou breaks the quiet with a growl, pounding his fist against his chest like he needs to cough or something. 

“So fucking stupid,” the boy grumbles down at his chest. “Goddamn idiot nerd.”

“So it is about, Midoriya,” Shoto deadpans.

“Who else would it fucking be?” He grumbles up to the ark sky, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Been driving me crazy lately.”

Huh. That’s odd. “But you two seem to be getting along now,” Shoto says. Everyone’s noticed. It’d be hard not to notice when the two of them are basically inseparable. And when they are separated, even he’s noticed the across-the-room staring.

“Not that kind of crazy,” Kacchan sighs, exasperated already by this conversation.

An image of the two of them napping in Bakugou’s room their first day back comes to Shoto’s mind. And just like that day, all he thinks is:

Oh, ok.

That makes sense.

“You like Midoriya?” Shoto guesses, expecting a blast to the face for the insinuation.

But Bakugou just sighs. “More than like.”

The look in the blond’s eyes when he looks to gauge Shoto’s reaction is something he’s never seen before in the boy’s red eyes. It’s soft and sad and full of more feeling than Shoto knew possible for one person to hold. 

What happened to him on that battlefield? Shoto wonders. It obviously left Bakugou with something more than just the trauma of coming so close to death.

He’s never thought much of love. It was basically the last thing on his mind. He could only imagine the burden of it, never any of the supposed good things that made it worth the trouble.

Because from the look on Bakugou’s face, it must be worth more than anything.

“That makes me glad to hear,” Shoto admits. 

Bakugou’s glare sharpens back, closing off his gaze. 

“I don’t need you to — " He starts to snap, but winces, clenching his jaw like the outburst physically pained him. He draws a breath and instead says, “Thanks…Todoroki.”

He tries to hide it but his hands are shaking.

“You didn’t get angry,” Shoto observes, ignoring the touching moment in favor of clarity. He wants to understand what’s going on between his friends.

“Fuck you. You trying to make me angry, asshole?” Bakugou challenges, and he almost sounds like his normal self.

“You stopped yourself just now,” Shoto pressed on.

Bakugou looks down at his hands, one still wrapped up in bandages though it should have healed fully by now. 

“My quirk goes off more when I’m angry,” he admits with disgust in his voice. “Ever since — Aizawa said it'll be harder to control. If it goes off it might not just be my hands, could be my whole damn body. And with heart busted...I just gotta be careful.”

Shoto heard about Bakugou’s sudden quirk development in the field from Denki and Yaoyorozu. 

He thinks about Bakugou and the other guys gathering in his room before he faced Toya, Bakugou comforting him just a matter of hours before his heart exploded in his chest and he lay dead on the battlefield while none of their friends knew.

He thinks about Midoriya having to see that.

“Are you scared?” Shoto finds himself asking. 

“Yeah,” Bakugou admits without hesitation, which shouldn’t surprise Shoto as much as it does. This guy’s done nothing but surprise him since they met. Him and Midoriya both.

After a pause, the blond adds, “Not for me though.”

Shoto understands.

They walk back to the dorms in quiet for a bit until Shoto decides to say, “I really don’t think it meant anything. You know, between Uraraka and Izuku.” 

Bakugou sighs, exasperated to be still talking. “I know. She just looks up to him or whatever.” 

“And everyone knows Midoriya cares for you,” he says, wondering if it’s something Midoriya would say if he were here trying to comfort someone. “You’re important to him the same way he’s important to you.”

But his words seem to have the opposite effect because Bakugou throws his head back and sighs tiredly, rivaling Aizawa-sensei. 

“That bastard cares about everyone.” Then adds quieter. “Whether it’s good for him or not.”

They spend the rest of the walk in comfortable silence, Shoto thinking all the while.

Midoriya. Bakugou. 

His friends.

What can he do for them? And will it ever be enough? 

__________

The next day Aizawa-sensei and All Might stop by to announce that school will formally resume at the end of the scheduled summer break and their online coursework will be adjusted to include a “personal reflection wellness project” that will be counted as the coursework they’d normally be given during their vacation going into second year. By his passive tone, this replacement assignment was not his idea.

“This project requires you to document any reflect on your recent experiences in the field you may have and what you as an individual — not as a hero or as a UA student — do in this time to rest and renew your spirits,” their teacher explains.

“This is an aspect of hero work that the curriculum has neglected for too long and in light of everything you’ve all gone through, it’s imperative for your wellbeing not only now but your wellbeing in your futures are pro-heroes. No generation of young heroes has had the experience you've all have endured since the dawn of quirks. We adults have asked too much of you and for that, I am truly sorry. It’s time we take the reins and let you kids…be kids. Let us be the heroes who clean up our mess while you take this time to live well. Now…any questions — ”

All their hands raise at once. Their teacher groans.

All Might steps in without hesitation, easing all their hands down. “We know you must have a lot you’d like to say, young heroes, and we understand you may want to get back out there as soon as you can. Your indomitable spirits have known no rest in your time here. Principal Nezu’s informed us how diligently all the students at UA have been working on the online work you were given despite it being self-paced  — “

“And that’s exactly why it’s being replaced with this one project,” Aizawa cuts back in sternly, like he’s scolding the class for being studious. “You’ve all been through hell. Not just the past few weeks, but this past year. It will be easier to put your nose to the grindstone and work through it, but in the end, it’ll only hinder you in the long run as pros.” He looks each of them in the eye. “This assignment is simple. It calls for each of you to do something completely unrelated to hero work and write a personal essay by summer’s end. What you do is your choice so long as it is restful. Hopefully, it will provide you time to recover fully, maybe even heal, but ultimately, I hope it will teach you a lesson I have yet failed to teach you: 

“That while being a hero is an important and noble ambition, it is not everything you are.”

The words hang over the students for a long tense moment, hanging heavy in the air.

Until All Might breaks the silence with a cheery clap. “Enjoy your summer vacation, young heroes!”

And then the meeting is dismissed. 

__________

‘…It is not everything you are.’

Izuku can’t get Aizawa-sensei’s words out of his head. It’s like they’re stuck on a loop in his brain.

The rest of his friends on the other hand are ecstatic at the news that their summer vacation’s started a whole month earlier. Dazed, he realizes for the first time that it’s already June.

“Why couldn’t Aizawa give us this assignment before I spent a month on all the online work?” Kaminari complained at dinner one night.

“That shit was all review. If you didn’t fucking notice, then it sounds like you needed it, shit for brains,” Kacchan pointed out gruffly. his eyes on his phone rather than his friend.

Kaminari pouts a glare and mumbles, “Can’t believe we missed you being mean…”

Kacchan just smirks and bumps him with an elbow. “I’m hurt. I thought you liked me for my personality, Denki.” 

The mustard blond puts his face in his hands. “Duuude, I told you I can’t take it when you call me that.”

Kacchan barks a laugh that pierces Izuku straight in the heart. It’s a haughty, arrogant thing, not anything like the ones he manages to draw out of Kacchan in the private of their—his room, but it still blooms warmth in Izuku’s center.

That’s been happening more lately.

After the look Kacchan gave him after his talk with Uraraka, Izuku was afraid something would change between the two of them and went to his own room to study and work up the courage to say something about it.

He found he didn’t have to. Because when it started to get late and he considered going to bed alone, Kacchan burst into the room, glaring at him like he was caught out past curfew.

He guessed, in a way, he was.

“What the hell, Izuku?! I’ve been looking fucking everywhere for you, jackass, why the fuck are you here??” Kacchan scolded. 

Izuku, dazed out of train of thought and all too pleased to see Kacchan at his door, just blinked.

“You looked everywhere for me but didn’t check my room?” He blurt out, already laughing.

Kacchan just pressed his mouth into a dissatisfied line as his face reddened from his cheeks to his ears.

So cute, his inner voice pipes up.

“Just come on, I’m tired,” the blond grumbled the order as he stomped out of the room. Adding, “And grab your damn laundry so we can put it in first thing! We’re beating the rush before everyone waits til Sunday to wash their damn clothes!”

Izuku just giggled and followed with an, “Ok, Kacchan.” 

He thought things were normal between them now, but all day, he’s felt Kacchan’s eyes on him.  It makes Izuku’s head spin every time he notices. And he's noticed it a lot lately.

What does that mean? Izuku doesn’t know.

Sometimes Izuku finds himself getting caught looking at Kacchan without his realizing too. And when that happens, it’s like a spark ignites in the air when red meets green. 

Every time it does he only thinks one thing: Wow.

He shakes his head, clearing away his thoughts and zones back into the dinner conversation.

The class keeps discussing what they all plan to do for the personal project, bringing the conversation from the dinner table out to the common room once they finish eating. 

Ashido says that she’s considering doing something besides dancing, since he thinks it might not be as 'restful' as the prompt calls for. 

Iida sits on the couch with his arms crossed and brow furrowed and admits he’s having a hard time thinking of what to do for his since the instructions are so vague and up to interpretation.

Hagakure suggests that they all help each other find things to do for the project, cheering that it’d be a good opportunity to have fun together before their second year officially starts. 

Izuku finds himself half-listening from the outside of the circle next to Kacchan, whose on his back with his phone held over his face. Which is weird. Kacchan’s not normally one to scroll aimlessly around other people, preferring more to sit and observe in silence.  

“Do you know what you’re going to do?” Izuku pipes up to ask him, just loud enough that the two of them can talk while the others continue their conversation. 

“No fucking clue,” Kacchan mutters, scrolling.

Curious, Izuku lowers onto his back and scoots close to Kacchan, leaning his weight in close knowing the boy won’t budge.

That’s still crazy to him. Knowing that Kacchan won’t back away when he gets close. 

“What’re you looking at?” Izuku asks, squinting to get a good look at the screen. It looked like a big lock of text, so small he has to squint to read it.

Kacchan tilts his phone screen slightly toward Izuku, then scrolls until a, uh, very intimate illustration of a bare chested man and long-haired woman appears in the middle of the blocks of text.

“Basically porn,” Kacchan says nonchalantly, totally unashamed.

Heat flashes up to Izuku’s face in an instant. “Kacchan!” He sputters, scandalized more out of surprise than anything. 

Kacchan snorts and scrolls back down the page. “It’s a shitty romance novel, Izu, calm down,” he clarifies.

Izuku pauses in shock, half at the nickname and half at the fact that Kacchan’s reading something non-academic or hero related. 

“A-and you’re reading it?” Izuku asks hesitantly, face still hot and no doubt bright red.

“Uh-huh,” Kacchan says, eyes back to the screen, apparently reading.

Izuku looks at his friend like he just grew a second head. None of this makes any sense in his brain.

“Who are you and what have you done with Kacchan?!” He gapes and it makes Kacchan laugh again. The sound of it — so light, so sweet — doesn’t help the flush of his cheeks or dissuading his  belief that this must be an imposter.

Kacchan rolls his eyes, a smile forming just at the corners of his mouth. “Shut up, ya damn nerd,” the blond grins and oh boy, if that doesn’t make Izuku’s heart leap. “My therapist sent it to me.”

Izuku blinks at him, frozen.

So much is happening. So much information all at once. He feels like he’s in a dream where every random thing his brain’s taken in is suddenly being smashed together.  “You have a therapist?”

Kacchan shrugs a shoulder. “Since the new year.”

“You never said,” Izuku says in wonder. Kacchan. Talks to a therapist. For — how long has it been since the new year — six months?

Kacchan either doesn’t notice Izuku’s inner turmoil or chooses to ignore it. 

“S’nothing,” he mutters. “Before the war, she was houndin' me that I need more fucking hobbies. Says anything that’s exercise or training doesn’t count.”

“That sounds like our assignment.”

“Yeah, she knows Aizawa. Recommended her to my parents. Wouldn’t be surprised if she gave the school the idea,” Kacchan explains, “Anyway, I couldn’t think of any shitty hobbies ‘sides cooking so she gave me a list of hers to try out. I only remembered it 'cuz of this shitty project.”

“And reading a romance novel’s on the list?”

“She’s in a book club.”

“Oh,” he says but that still doesn’t clear it up. “Well, how is it?”

“Sucks,” Kacchan huffs, but still slowly scrolling down the page as he reads. “This whole series so far is bullshit.”

Izuku’s eyes widen and it’s a miracle he keeps his voice at a whisper when he feels like shouting.

“You’ve read more than one???”

“A few months ago, when I started the list. If I’m gonna try it out, I’m not gonna half-ass it,” Kacchan says like it’s obvious, which is just so him Izuku almost laughs again. 

“And you haven’t liked a single one?” Izuku can't help but laugh as he presses on, wanting to know more.

“They’re all the same.Barely anything fucking happens ‘cuz these damn people don’t know how to just fucking talk to each other,” Kacchan waves a passive hand while he talks and he quickly gets caught in the rant. “Half the story could be cut out if these fuckers just stopped staring at each other across these damn ballrooms and just fucked right off the bat…They’re basically still strangers anyway when the book ends and they break up over stupid shit. Complete waste of time….Plus, all these guys are assholes anyway, especially this one, I don’t get what this lady sees in him…bastard does nothing to fucking change then all of a sudden she falls for him saying he’s a ‘changed man’ and all this sappy crap. It’s total bullshit...”

Kacchan mutters getting caught up in it without noticing in a way that makes Izuku feel like he’s watching himself on the screen of a movie. Kacchan even touches his fist to his mouth, always returning it there even when he points something out in the illustrations of characters to point out who he’s referring to. 

Did Kacchan always do this? Surely, he would have noticed, right?

Maybe he did, just never where Izuku could see.

Izuku can’t help but smile to himself. He holds his breath, not wanting to risk anything stopping Kacchan when he’s like this.

This is the best day of my life, he thinks to himself in wonder.

“Pretty sure she’s laughing at me, giving me all these shitty ideas,” He zones back in to catch Kacchan say, talking about his therapist again.

Izuku hums at that, looking up at the ceiling while he shifts enough so he feels the side of his head touch Kacchan’s. Like an anchor to remind him he’s still there while he’s out of sight.  “What else have you tried?” He prods.

“Not much.” Kacchan clicks his phone off and holds his hand above their faces and counts them off on his fingers. 

“Knitting — “

“Oh I’ve always wanted to try that.”

“Binge-watching shitty American tv — “

“Huh, I did notice your English’s gotten really good…”

“And pottery — “

“Huh. That one sounds fun though.”

He stops to think for a second. “Yeah, I take it back, that one was kinda fun. The studio I went to’s halfway across town though, and their kiln is shit so it was kinda a pain.” He huffs. “And I got kicked out for being too loud…”

Izuku laughs at the confession. “That’s fair. Is there more on the list you can try that you could use for the assignment?”

“Yeah. It’s not long, but there’s some stuff.”

“Like what?”

Kacchan picks up his phone and opens a note on it. “Uh…Painting….Ugh, creative writing. Fuck that…Puzzles, what the fuck…Gardening…Scrapbooking…Sewing…and…Candle-making?” He scoffs, “Ok, she has to be fucking with me. Who the fuck makes candles??”

Izuku giggles, earning an elbow jab to the side. “Lots of people!”

“Name one!” Kacchan barks, sitting up to argue down at him. “Name one fucking person you know who makes candles!”

“Your therapist!” Izuku pushes up to sitting just in time for the boy to tackle him back down.

“You little shit! Think you’re so damn smart, do ya!” He and Kacchan roll until he has Izuku pinned, straddling his middle with a wicked grin, but before he can pin Izuku down, he jerks his hips and topples the blond, giving him the advantage to take the high ground.

“Yeah! I do!” He laughs back, grappling with Kacchan until they’ve switched positions.

When Kacchan’s back hits the ground, he visibly winces. Izuku jumps back from his hold on his shoulders, like he’d just been burned. Crap, he forgot about Kacchan’s shoulder.

“Sorry, Kacchan! Are you — “

He doesn’t get to finish his question the room spins and he’s suddenly on his back, staring wide eyed up at Kacchan’s cocky smirk just inches above him. 

“Got ya,” he huff a triumphant breath.

Izuku pouts. “No fair. I thought that hurt you.”

“Who says it didn’t? Still shouldn’ta let your guard down,” Kacchan argues.

Izuku opens his mouth to argue back but before they can they hear a voice from the couch chime in.

“Uh, guys?”

They both jump away from each other, both lost in the moment that they forgot their friends were all sitting right next to them. That probably seemed out of nowhere from where they were sitting.

Kirishima cocks her head. “You good?” He asks seriously but a grin twitches at the corner of his mouth, showing off his sharp teeth. “Was that a play-fight or a fight-fight?”

“Because if it’s the first one, you're both adorable,” Jirou teased from his spot on the couch next to Momo. 

“But if it’s the second, take it outside,” Shoji says boredly. 

“Either way, there is no fighting or rough-housing in the common room,” Iida reminds with a stiff wave of his arm. 

Izuku swears that for a second before he turns away, he sees Kacchan blush again.

“Tch,” Kacchan scoffs, “Don’t tell us what to do. We weren’t fucking fighting.”

“We were just talking,” Izuku adds on with a nervous scratch to the back of his hair. 

Uraraka meets in his eye in a look that Izuku reads as, ‘Talking, huh?’

He hates it instantly makes him blush too.

He turns and catches Kacchan’s red gaze with a sideways glance.

Sparks.

“Whatever,” the blond shrugs the moment off and Izuku spends the rest of the night hoping the tingle of his skin settles before it’s time for bed.

Later that night, in the dark of Izuku’s room with Kacchan head tucked under his chin, the boy’s strong arms wrapped around his middle, Izuku finds his voice.

“Hey, Kacchan?” He whispers to the wall.

“Hm,” the blond grunts sleepily. 

“I was just thinking…What if we both tried finishing your list this summer for the assignment? Together…” He offers the idea hesitantly, but he won’t be able to stop thinking about it if he doesn’t just say it out loud.

There’s a drawn out pause before Kacchan shifts in his hold, pulling Izuku impossibly closer. He feels the boy rub his forehead against his chest and he swears his heart is loud enough for them both to hear, maybe enough to shake the bed. 

“Ok,” Kacchan huffs, no doubt grumpy from being woken up. 

But despite the tone, it satisfies Izuku enough to finally settle his mind. He smiles against Kacchan’s blond spikes.

“Ok,” he whispers back. “Thank you, Kacchan.”

“Stop thanking me and go the fuck to sleep,” he feels mumbled against his shirt.

“Ok, Kacchan.”

Chapter Text

Eijirou curses as Kaminari runs up behind him and shakes him by the shoulders, making him mess up the line he’d just started to paint.

“Dude! Watch it!” He snaps at his friend, all concentration broken, “You made me mess up!”

Kaminari looks down at his ruined paper like he just noticed it. “Are you seriously doing calligraphy? Right now? At a time like this?” The blond raised an eyebrow at him.

“It’s for the project!”

“But calligraphy?” Kaminari rolls his eyes, a lopsided smile on his face.

“It’s a manly art form!” Eijirou pouts, “And relaxing!”

“I’ve watched you crumple up like four sheets of paper at this point, it didn’t look relaxing,” Kaminari points to the pile at the end of the table then shakes his head back to focus. “But never mind that! You gotta see something! It’s important!”

“But my — “ Eijirou doesn’t get a chance to finish arguing before Kaminari yanked him by the arm and drags him across the room to the far window. “Hey! What the hell, Kami — ” He tries to protest, but the blond just yanks him off balance. When did he get so strong?

“I told you, man, it’s important! You gotta take a look!” Kaminari stops just at the edge of the window and in one motion, pushes them both down into a crouch so they’re just peaking over the edge of the sill. 

Eijirou rolls his eyes and looks out the window.

It’s a beautiful day and there are two people outside the dorm taking advantage of it. It looks like they’ve been working hard from how covered their clothes are in black dirt, standing with their backs to the window over a fresh rectangular plot of boxed off dirt. One’s in a wide straw sunhat and the other’s in a floppy camouflage fisherman hat, both dressed in dirty coveralls, gloves, and boots.

“What am — ?“

“Shh, just watch,” his friend shushes him.

Then the two people turn from the dirt to gather their tools in the grass.

And Eijirou finally sees what’s so important.

Bakugou wipes his brow of sweat and pushes back his fisherman hat only for Midoriya to tug it back over to shade his face, seemingly pleading for him to keep it on because of the sun. Bakugou pouts but just stands obediently while Midoriya straightens the brim with a pleased smile. The shade of his sunhat makes little dots of light dance over his face, making it look like little stars are glowing on his cheeks.

The tips of Bakugou’s ears go pink when Midoriya steps back, satisfied.

He turns back to Kaminari. “What the — “

“Wait, wait, just listen,” Kaminari waves a hand.

What the hell is going on?

Eijirou turns back and can just barely hear part of their conversation through the glass.

“Why the hell did we get beet seeds? Neither of us even fucking like ‘em.”

“The research I did said that they’re good to plant in the summer!”

“But we won’t even eat them! You want me to break my fucking back growing shit I don’t even like?”

“Kacchan! We’re not farmers, this is supposed to be fun! And besides, my mom likes beets. She’ll be happy if we grow some for her.”

“…Okay. Fine, but they’re going on the other side of the squash. I don’t want them near my peppers.”

“About that…I don’t think we should put your peppers by the melon, Kacchan. What if they, you know, cross pollinate or something weird?”“Well, if your damn flowers didn’t take up so much space, I wouldn’t need to put my peppers by your shitty melon, Izuku!”

“There’s space by the beets!”

“No way in hell am I — !”

“Kacchan! Please!”

Eijirou blinks at Kaminari who’s gaping at him with expectant wide eyes, waiting for his reaction.

Eijirou doesn’t even know where to start.

He starts with, “What the — “

“I know, right!!” Kaminari yelps excitedly, waving his arms. “They’ve been like that all morning!”

Somehow that’s not surprising. He cards a hand through his hair while his head tries to keep up with what he’s just witnessed. “I know they’ve been getting along more, but…”

“That’s a little more than getting along,” the blond finishes.

Eijirou shakes his head, skeptical. They’ve gotta think this through and two heads are better than one, though he wishes someone more rational and objective like Todoroki or Shoji or Momo were here.

“I mean, it’s probably for the project. That’s not weird, right?”

Kaminari holds up a finger. He’s clearly been thinking a lot about this. “Not on it’s own, no, but think about how they’ve been the past month, dude. They’ve been all over each other from day one!”

“I wouldn’t say…” He starts to say, but when Eijirou thinks on that it really doesn’t take much thought to conjure up a dozen memories that back up Kaminari’s statement. “Ok, yeah.”

“They can’t keep from staring at each other for more than five minutes, they’re whispering together one second then wrestling the next, loaning books, always sitting next to each other at movie night, and now they’re gardening and arguing like grandpas about the hierarchy of their flower bed? Come on, dude, you can’t say that’s all just them getting along better!”

Well, when he puts it like that…

“…And Midoriya does stay in Bakugou’s room a lot. Pretty sure he sleeps over, like, every night,” Eijirou admits, thinking about the few times he woke up to hear the two talking through the wall his room shares with Bakugou’s.

“See! That’s evidence!”

“Evidence of what though?”

“That something might be going on between them! Like…” Kaminari raises his eyebrows and lets Eijirou connect the dots.

“Like something…more than…” Eijirou finishes slowly.

Kaminari shoots a finger gun at him and the tip of his index finger gives a tiny zap.

“Bingo,” he says with a wicked grin.

__________

“Oi,” Katsuki grunts. It’s the only warning he gives Izuku before he tosses the water bottle at him.

As expected, the nerd looks up just in time to catch it in his hand, smiling up at Katsuki in his stupid gardening outfit. The sun hat is hanging off his neck over his back by a string so the sun lights his skin bright and golden. For all his fussing about keeping Katsuki out of the sun, the green haired boy’s already sporting a fresh spray of freckles and pink flush across his cheeks from the midday light.

“Thank you, Kacchan!” He beams and Katsuki has to look away before his heart starts up again. It only just calmed down.

Katsuki steps up and roughly drops Izuku’s hat back onto his mess of forest green hair, flattening the fly away locks against the boy’s forehead. 

Fuck. It’s already been a damn month of this and it really isn’t getting any easier.

Somehow it’s always times like this that do him in. It never happens when they’re close, like when they’re in bed or pressed next to each other on the couch. It’s always when there’s open air between them that the nerd starts to take up Katsuki’s entire field of vision and the space starts to feel unbearable, gaping. Like big, green eyes and wobbly, shy smiles and expressive hands and goddamn fucking freckles are all he needs to feel a semblance of quiet in his own goddamn body and he’s sick of it.

He can’t get enough.

Whatever. At least the nerd’s seemed more himself ever since they started this whole list project. He still needs to text his therapist a thank you for that unexpected turn of events.

“If I have to keep my damn hat on, you do too, nerd,” Katsuki frowns. “You’re the one worried about skin cancer and shit.”

Izuku rolls his eyes and adjusts the hat before taking his gloves off. Katsuki drops to the grass, sitting crosslegged by the dirt bed they just finished planting and labeling all the seeds in. 

“We both know you burn really easy, Kacchan, you have since we were kids,” the boy reminds him before he takes a swig from his water.

Katsuki scoffs. “You’re the one with the sunburn, stupid.”

Izuku shrugs a shoulder nonchalantly. “I’ll just get tanner. Not like you…you’ve always had nice skin, Kacchan.”

He doesn’t catch the way Katsuki’s eyes widen and yup, there does his heart hammering like a jackhammer against his ribs, desperate to hop out and make home in Izuku’s chest.

Nice skin.

Instinctively, he looks at his arms, one bare, the other covered in a compression sleeve to keep his scars covered he got recently from Recovery Girl. He fights the urge to touch the bandage he keeps reapplying to his cheek, hiding the scar underneath.

“Tch. Not so nice anymore,” he says, trying not to sound better, but it comes through crystal clear.

Izuku’s eyes soften, but they don’t draw any attention to his arm. There’s no pity in the look like Katsuki always mistook it for in the past. Just care.

“Not any worse than mine,” he offers. Typical. Putting himself down to make someone else feel better.

It immediately sparks something hot and angry in Katsuki’s chest and he has to take a breath to quell it.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Katsuki demands.

Izuku shrugs again, looking down at his own hands like he can’t help but see all the imperfections there. Stupid idiot. Looking down on himself like he doesn’t realize exactly what he does to Katsuki with that face and stupid big heart of his.

The nerd just smiles a little, it’s a sad one. “Heh. Well, I don’t have a quirk like yours that keeps my skin smooth and even before training, I always picked at it, kind of a nervous habit, especially my hands or if I ever had a cut or scrape and…I dunno, I guess I just never thought much of it. My skin’s never been perfect by any means. I mean, my freckles are—“

“I like your freckles.”

It takes Izuku’s stunned look for Katsuki to realize he just blurted that out. Heat rises up his neck in an instant when he sees the flush across Izuku’s face deepen.

“You do?” The boy breathes like he doesn’t totally believe what he heard.

And why would he?

Katsuki looks away, heart pounding loud enough he’s sure Izuku can feel it. 

“Yeah, I like them,” he says to the stupid beets. His face feels like an open flame. “They’re…” 

Cute.

That sounds so fucking lame.

Goddamnit. Stop talking.

“…Good,” he finished half-heartedly.

Fuck.

He looks back in time to catch the absolute wonder in Izuku’s eyes before the boy pulls his gaze away too. 

“Oh,” Izuku says in a small voice to his hands.

Then he smiles a bit at them before closing his fists and Katsuki starts to think it’s only a matter of time before this boy truly kills him.

God, I love him, he can’t help but think. He gulps against the lump in his throat.

It’s going to be a long fucking summer.

__________

‘Good.’

Kacchan thinks your freckles are good.

He likes your freckles.

He said it twice.

They’re good.

Kacchan likes your freckles.

And he said so.

To your face.

Twice.

That’s good right? Why isn’t he sure?

Why is it that when he tries to put it to words, he suddenly draws a blank?

It’s just so much.

Like he’s drowning. But it’s good.

How can it be good?

What is this?

What the hell is happening?

Izuku’s head is still spinning when Todoroki taps his shoulder and nearly makes him shoot straight through the ceiling.

“Wah!” He screams with a violent jolt.

“Pipe down,” Kacchan grumbles from his left, scrolling through a new romantic adventure series on his phone. Izuku’s starting to think he actually likes the stories more than he lets on.

Without sparing a glance, Kacchan pushes Izuku’s plate closer to him in an unspoken gesture that commands: Eat.

Oh right. They’re having dinner all together as a class.

“Sorry,” Izuku steadies himself with a deep breath and turns to Todoroki, their two-toned friend waiting stoically for his attention. “Uhm, were you saying something, Todoroki?”

The boy nods. “I asked you if there’s anything you’d like to do this summer.”

Summer. Right. Izuku keeps forgetting about that.

He nervously scratches a spot on his cheek and admits, “Huh, I haven’t really thought about it honestly. My mom’s still at the UA apartments while things settle and we’re not permitted to leave campus right now…So I guess nothing really comes to mind.”

“I see,” Todoroki says in a neutral tone, “You’ve been in and out of the dorms so much lately, I figured you must have special plans or something.”

“Oh that!” Izuku perks up immediately, glad to change the subject and talk about their plan. “Kacchan and I are planning on going through a list of stuff to try this summer! It’s for the assignment we got for vacation.”

“Is that why you two’re always tracking dirt inside now?” Uraraka giggles then licks her thumb and swipes it to Izuku’s cheek. It comes back brown. “Better not let Iida find out or he’ll talk your ear off about keeping the genkan clean.”

“Hmph,” Kacchan huffs, clearly listening to their whole exchange. “I’ll beat his uptight ass if he tries.”

Uraraka leans over the table to give the blond a look. “Careful, Bakugou,” she teases in a sing-song voice. “You don’t wanna get Deku in trouble, do you?”

Kacchan just shoots her a sideways glare and huffs back at his phone, pouting a bit in a way that makes Izuku’s core grow warm like an oven slowly heating up.

“We fucking clean up after ourselves, so there’s nothing to get on our damn asses about, got it? If class rep wants to get his panties in na twist fucking nitpicking everything, that’s his problem,” he mumbles after a second, more tame than expected.

“What? A problem?” Iida yells from across the room, interrupting his conversation with Aoyama. “Did someone say something about a problem? Because if there is, it’s imperative we address it post-haste!”

“My fucking point exactly,” Kacchan groans with a roll of his eyes while Uraraka waves Iida off, telling him there’s no problem and that everything’s fine.

Izuku laughs, his heart so full in this moment. He never thought he’d ever see Kacchan talking so easily with his friends, but here they all are, sitting at the table, teasing and talking. All of it feels so…normal. 

It makes Izuku want to cry.

Kacchan groans again, this time at Izuku. “What now, nerd? What could possibly trigger the water works now of all times?”

Oh, look at that, he is crying. 

Izuku tries to brush the tears away but they just keep streaming down his face in a constant, hot river down his cheeks and neck. It makes him laugh how futile it is to try to staunch the flow so he just gives up, his shoulders shaking from the ridiculous scene he must be making.

“Fucking hell,” Kacchan sighs and throws an arm around him, pulling him down to his good shoulder without any room for argument. Izuku doesn’t fight it, burying his face in Kacchan’s t-shirt like a kid, rubbing his face against the cloth and the toned muscle underneath. 

“Midoriya? Is he ok?” Izuku hears Todoroki ask Kacchan, not sounding too worried from his tone but more curious.

“Yup, just the usual nerd shit,” Kacchan explains gruffly and that seems to satisfy those around them because conversation returns to its usual level of chatter quickly after.

Izuku feels a hand appear in his hair, the touch gentle but firm. The hand scratches lazy circles against his scalp that draw a satisfied hum from his lips.

“What am I gonna do with you?” He hears Kacchan mutter softly, the same way he did in the hospital when Izuku refused to leave his side.

The way he says it, like the words are for Izuku alone, sound so light and full of begrudging feeling.

Affection, he realizes for the first time. That’s the thing that Izuku couldn’t place before, the thing that sounded so foreign yet so familiar in Kacchan’s tone. 

It just makes him cry harder.

_________

After dinner, Shoto’s suddenly pulled around a corner and shoved against a wall in the hallway. If it hadn’t been for the flash of red and yellow in his peripheral, the assailants would have been charred in an instant.

“You could have just called me over,” he deadpans to Kirishima whose still holding him by the collar of his sweater vest. 

“Sorry, man,” the redhead apologizes, smoothing the front of Shoto’s sweater in an awkward gesture that’s too endearing to be mad at. “It’s urgent.”

“You saw it, right?” Uraraka appears from behind Kirishima, her brown eyes flashing with determination.

“…What did I see?” Shoto asks, clueless to what vague thing they’re referring to.

“At dinner! Bakugou and Midoriya!” Denki hisses in a loud whisper that’s not at all a whisper. “And keep your voice down!”

“Oh,” Shoto whispers this time, but he doesn’t really see the point. They’re far enough way from the rest of the class cleaning up in the kitchen. “What about them?”

“Dude! There’s definitely something going on between them! You saw it right?” Denki insists in his really bad attempt at a whisper. 

Oh, that. 

“They seemed pretty normal to me,” he says honestly. Ever since Bakugou admitted his feelings for Midoriya to him, their recent behavior’s made more and more sense.

“So you don’t think there’s any way there’s something more between them? Like in a more-than-friends way?” The electric blond continues to grill him, leaning in and raising his eyebrows to emphasize his words.

“They’ve always been more than friends,” Shoto says. He thought that was obvious.

Uraraka sighs, exasperated, and puts a hand on Denki’s shoulder for him to back off. He does.

“Todoroki, we’re asking if you think they like each other. Based on how they’ve been since they got back from the hospital. Is there something there? Or are we just crazy?” 

Shoto cocks his head. “And why are you asking me?”

“Because you’re the most unbiased and level-headed guy we know,” Kirishima says. “We figured if you saw it too then that’d be proof it’s not just us reading into it because…well, because we want it to happen.” Kirishima reddens a bit at that last part, rubbing his neck shyly at the confession. 

His friends want his opinion. That makes Shoto feel lighter, like he could float a bit from the good feeling.

“I’m touched,” he admits. “Well, Bakugou definitely has feelings for Midoriya.” 

“Really?” His three friends chime in unison, stars in their eyes.

“How do you know?” Denki demands, completely forgoing his whisper to yell while he shakes Shoto by the shoulders. 

“He told me,” Shoto answers calmly.

“What?” Uraraka demands. “How? Why? When?”

“I asked him.”

“Huh, I guess we could have tried that too,” Kirishima says.

“Not worth the risk, man,” Denki turns to him, finally stopping the shaking. “Again, we all know Todoroki’s Bakugou proof. This was the best way to find out.” He lets Shoto go and gives his shoulders two small pats before stepping back. “Thank you for this, man, you have no idea.”

“Did Bakugou say anything else?” Uraraka asks, her arms crossed. “Do you know if Deku feels the same way?”

Shoto had thought a lot about it the past few days and figured there’s about a fifty-fifty chance Midoriya feels the same way but is clueless to it and just thinks Bakugou is being nice or just a good friend.

When he relays that to the group, they visibly deflate with an exaggerated sigh.

“That’s what we figured too,” Uraraka says. “But we thought maybe that was the case for both of them.”

“If Bakugou’s sure, then that’s great news!” Kirishima pounds his fists together, pumped on the knowledge.

“I don’t think he thinks Midoriya feels the same though,” Shoto says, remembering their talk that night. The anguish on Bakugou’s face made that clear. “I don’t know if he wants him to.”

Denki sighs, crossing his arms. “For two smart people, they sure are dumb about each other. Sounds like we’re gonna be watching them make googly eyes at each other for a while…”

Shoto hopes not. 

He thinks of the conflict in Bakugou’s red eyes.

He thinks of green eyes, lit up with determination to get in anyone’s business if it means helping them in any way.

“There’s gotta be something we can do,” he finds himself saying.

Three pairs of eyes meet his, mirroring the same determined look he must have in his own.

Just as the four of them return to the common room, they hear a cheery voice call out, “Circle up, guys! We’re playing a game and everyone’s playin’!”

__________

The game they settle on is Truth or Dare. Despite already basically being in their second year, they’re surprised to find most of the people in the class have never played before. Upon that revelation, Ashido insists on playing.

To make it interesting, she splits the circle into two teams.

“If someone on your team refuses a truth or dare, you get a strike. Three strikes and you lose the game!” She winks.

Izuku thinks not for the first time that Ashido would make a great MC one day.

Kacchan slumps in his spot on Izuku’s left, same as dinner, and Izuku shoots him a big smile.

“You excited to play, Kacchan?” 

Kacchan gives an unenthused grunt that Izuku knows means yes. Especially if it’s a competition, there’s no doubt Kacchan will get invested once they start to play.

Izuku’s just glad they’re on the same team.

“Alright! Who wants to go first?” Ashido claps her hands together.

“Kaminari does!” Jirou pipes up, pointing at the boy next to her.

“Hey, why do I gotta — “

“Truth or dare,” she tilts her head down to look up at him and his arguing spirit crumbles before her. 

“Dare,” he mumbles.

“Wait, the other team should be the ones to come up with the dare,” Kacchan interjects. As Izuku predicted, he’s already into it.

“Oooh, great idea!” Ashido squeals.

“Oh no,” Kaminari gulps.

“Alright, then what’s the dare?”

“Oh!” Izuku pipes up with a sudden thought. “Kaminari, I dare you to let Kirishima, from at least four feet away, spit water in your mouth like one of those fountain sculptures.”

“Agh, gross, dude, you know I have a thing about germs!” Kaminari groans, but accepts the dare.

“Nice,” Kacchan says under his breath, holding his fist out.

Izuku bumps his fist to Kacchan’s, beaming.

The game goes on for a while, most people going once or getting roped into another’s dare. Kaminari, somehow getting dared twice, ends up drinking from the mustard like it’s a baby bottle until his face turns red from wrenching.

Jirou gets dared to sneak into the teacher dorm and snap a selfie with a sleeping Aizawa. She declines. 

The dare gets tossed right back to their team and the common room erupts in cheers when Todoroki returns brandishing a flash photo of him and Aizawa-sensei, dead asleep. 

“I didn’t really sneak in, I kind of just walked inside. Sensei is a very heavy sleeper,” he explains when pressed for a thrilling story.

After that, there’s a string of truths that all have everyone in stitches from the confessions and stories that accompany them.

“I ate, like, a whole fake apple after my grandpa’s funeral! I didn’t know they were antique candles!” Kirishima admits when asked what the hardest thing he’s ever bitten into with his sharp teeth. 

“And that’s how I totally embarrassed myself in front of my crush in middle school!” Yaomomo squeals. 

On Ojirou’s turn, the girls ask him if he has a crush on anyone and he turns red as a tomato, stuttering out that, yes, in fact, he does.

Izuku swears he can see Hagakure blush even though she’s invisible.

Izuku gets dared to lick one of Shoji’s tentacle eyeballs and thankfully, Shoji’s a good sport about the whole thing.

When it gets to Kacchan’s next turn, both teams have two strikes. The dares have been ramping up in difficulty, both teams trying to get the other to forfeit their last life.

“Alright, Bakugou. You ready?” Ashido smiles evilly at Kacchan directly across from her in the circle.

Kacchan just leans his cheek against his palm, looking bored aside from the competitive spark in his eye.

“Get on with it, Pinky,” he groans.

“Ok, truth or dare.”

“Dare.”

“Hm,” she sits back and chews her lip for a long while, visibly thinking until her eyes widen with glee.

“Oh! I got it!” She practically lights up with sudden inspiration. She turns to Uraraka and whispers it in her ear. Her brown eyes immediately light up.

“Oh, he’ll hate that!” She laughs.

“Just spit it out already,” Kacchan rolls his eyes, his gaze already bored.

“Hehe, alright, you asked,” Ashido giggles, then points across the circle at Kacchan with her signature dramatic flair. “Give the biggest cutie in the class a kiss or doom your team to failure!” 

That makes everyone in the circle sit up, interest piqued with all attention on Kacchan’s widened eyes. His mouth hangs open slightly like the words died on his lips before he could even say them.

“Oh, wow, that’s kinda genius, Ashido,” Sero gapes from the left. 

“I figured he’d have no problem doing most dares, so I had to really think of what Blasty hates most,” Ashido waves a finger, “And that’s a dare that reveals a truth! Especially if it’s something sappy.”

That earns a laugh from most of the circle. Even Izuku has to admit, she’s got it right on the money. 

“You mean I had to drink mustard and all Bakugou has to do is kiss a pretty girl? No fair,” Kaminari whines, sticking his still-yellow tongue out.

“You don’t have to do it, man,” Kirishima reminds while elbowing Kaminari in the side. Kirishima shoots his friend a look and it makes Kaminari sit up, suddenly attentive. Izuku wonders what that’s about.

“Tch” Kacchan scoffs under his breath, “Fuck off. No way am I losing over such dumbass dare…”

When he looks up, his gaze moves around the circle slowly with a look of forced ambivalence and disinterest. It feels like everyone’s holding their breath to see who the blond will pick.

It definitely has Izuku stumped, which surprises him when he realized he has no idea what Kacchan might consider “cute,” especially in terms of another person. He’d really never thought of it before. Kacchan never seemed interested in girls or dating when they were growing up, even in middle school when the rest of the guys in their class seemed to be obsessed with the idea of it. In fact, Kacchan never kept it a secret how little he cared about the girls in their classes, never giving them any kind of special treatment or attention. In turn, the girls got the message loud and clear and never seemed interested in Kacchan, which Izuku always found surprising since —

Izuku’s so lost in the analysis going on in his brain, he almost misses it when a strong hand roughly yanks him by the collar and tugs him into the gentle press of a warm mouth against his cheek, so quick he barely registers the touch at all.

He gasps as he’s let go. The touch ripples across his skin and all at once he catches up to the moment to realize everyone is staring, mouths open as Kacchan casually leans back on his hands.

“There,” Kacchan growls, “Now I dare all you shitheads not to say a single word — “

The collective scream around the circle cuts him off.

“And that means we win,” Kacchan sighs, pushing himself up to standing. “Alright. Night.”

“Ah! Dude!” Kaminari snaps out of the stupor first, reaching out to Kacchan as he shuffles toward the elevators without another word or spare glance back to the chaos around the circle.

“Did that really just happen??” Hagakure squeals.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Are you serious??” Mina shakes Uraraka next to her, both shocked.

“That was so manly, wow,” Kirishima sniffles, damn near tears from his wobbly smile and shining eyes.

“Huh, I didn’t think he’d really do it,” Shoto hums quietly, sounding impressed.

Izuku watches him disappear around the corner, blond head slumped low with his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. Izuku’s hand comes up and touches the warm spot on his cheek absently. 

“Midoriya? You okay?” Asui asks from his other side.

Izuku doesn’t hear her over the roar of his pulse in his head. The room is spinning. He’s trying to make sense of it, but no matter how he tries to track the thoughts in his mind, he can’t seem to make sense of them.

Kacchan.

Kacchan kissed me.

He thinks I’m cute.

He likes my freckles.

He said so.

And then he kissed them.

Izuku doesn’t remember exactly when he finally goes up to Kacchan’s room for bed, but when he does the blond is already out cold, curled up against what’s become his side of the bed. The implication that he trusted Izuku to follow and made room for him makes his heart feel ready to burst. Quietly, he slips into pajamas and into his spot, curling himself around Kacchan’s warm body, hugging him close to his chest.

He goes to sleep to the smell of sweet cinnamon and spice and the warmth of every feeling trapped in his chest. He doesn’t know how to put them to words, but as he drifts to sleep, he promises that he’ll find a way.

There’s so much to say. And he doesn’t know where to begin. All he’s certain of is that he wants Kacchan closer. The brush of his lips against his skin. Izuku wants that again.

When Izuku wakes up the next morning, it isn’t to an alarm. Bleary eyed, he realizes that the bed is empty.

Kacchan is gone.

__________

Katsuki feels like he’s about to throw up a lung from how hard he’s breathing. It’s eight in the fucking morning and here he is double over outside the school nearly heaving his guts on the sidewalk just from a measly mile run. 

So fucking pathetic. 

He checks the time. It’s been about an hour since he left the dorms and his casual morning walk quickly turned into a violent sprint.

Fucking Ashido. Katsuki wanted to tear her apart for that dare.

Every time he thinks about last night, he just wants to explode. The shame’s damn near burned a hole in his gut from how shitty he feels about the whole thing.

He should have just taken the loss and gone to bed. Better wound his pride than ruin whatever he has with Izuku over a stupid dare.

Katsuki straightens up, still catching his breath and staring up at the cloudless summer sky. The sun’s only been up a couple hours and the air’s already warming up.

They’ll probably need to water the seedlings a bit extra depending on how hot it is today, his mind automatically thinks.

He wonders if the nerd is up yet.

Jeez, he can’t even fucking think about seeing Izuku right now.

It was just a kiss. Barely even a kiss. It means nothing, he tries to convince himself with the words he recited over and over as he fell asleep.

But if that were true, why does Katsuki’s heart skip every time he thinks about it?

Why did he even do it to begin with? Why did he want to despite knowing the consequences?

That’s an easy fucking answer 

He did it because he wanted to. No doubt about that.

He growls to the open air. It echoes across the open area, bouncing his anguish right back to him.

He thinks of brown freckles and smooth, tan skin.

It was cool to the touch, probably from the air conditioning.

“Fuck,” he mutters. Such an idiot. 

He shuffles around the campus grounds aimlessly, letting the sweat dry on his skin while he sulks, wondering if there’s any way he can sneak in and out of the dorm without the nerd seeing him. He could probably go to his folks’ on-campus apartment again for the day if wanted to, but he’d still need to go back to the dorm to change and shower first. 

He remembers his mother’s eyes the last time he went over just the other day, dampened with worry with visible circles under her eyes from lack of sleep.

On second thought, maybe not. He’s not ready to face that again.

When did he become such a fucking coward?

He’s weighing the pros and cons of asking Aizawa to hang in his office when a distant sound hits the air. It’s like the roll of thunder on a far horizon, closing in faster than any storm.

Katsuki barely registers the air tingle with electricity before —

“Kacchan!!” 

— A body crashes into him at full force, sending them both flying and tumbling across the grass. They skid along the lawn and eventually roll to a stop with Izuku hanging over Katsuki, pulling him up by the front of his shirt.

“Kacchan!” Izuku’s eyes are shining with unshed tears. He’s still in the pajamas Katsuki saw him wearing when he left that morning. He’s willing to bet the nerd’s not even wearing shoes.

“Izuku! What the hell — !“

“Shut up!! Where the hell did you go? Why weren’t you there this morning?! Why did you leave! And why weren’t you answering your phone?? Do you know how fucking scared I was something happened to you??” Izuku yells, words tumbling out all at once. His brow’s scrunched in that face he always makes when he’s seriously mad.

Katsuki’s ashamed to admit he likes this look on the nerd.

There’s something in his eyes and the set of his mouth when he’s angry like this that just sets Katsuki on fire.

“I — “ Katsuki starts to say, his mouth suddenly thick and dumb. He ends up just opening and closing his mouth like a dying fish.

The edges of Izuku’s silhouette are haloed by the morning light, setting the ends of his dark hair alight like a green flame.

His heart’s beating against the wall of his chest like a madman, a murderer dying to break through the door their victim is hiding behind. He doesn’t think he’s breathing. 

Izuku’s gaze softens as he flounders under his weight. He watches in real time as worry settles between his brows and the boy releases his shirt from his tight fist. 

“Did I...Did I do something wrong?” Izuku sits back on his heels, letting Katsuki finally sit up.

Fuck.

“No,” Katsuki says too fast, instantly growing flushed as he drops his voice. “What the hell could you have done?”

Izuku drops his gaze to the skip mark they left on the grass.

“I mean…last night — “

“Was my fault,” Katsuki flinches. He can’t stand that look on his face. So pitiful and sincere and sorry over nothing. It makes him sick. “If I made you uncomfortable, I understand and I’m s — “

A hand claps over his mouth, stopping his words.

“That’s not was I was going to say!” Izuku says hurriedly. He backs off hesitantly, but returns his hand to his lap once he sees Katsuki keep his mouth shut. “I was gonna say…we didn’t get to talk last night. About…”

Katsuki’s jaw tightens at the pause. 

“…When you kissed me,” Izuku finishes, looking back at him once more. His eyes are as unreadable as ever.

He forces his face into a tight frown, looking away knowing his face is burning. “And? What about it?”

He thinks that no matter what Izuku says it’ll make his stomach turn with guilt.

Katsuki shouldn’t have kissed him to begin with.

But he wanted to.

Because he's fucking selfish.

“I…I know you did it for the dare, and maybe you did it just to win, but even if that was the reason, I-I would have wanted you to,” Izuku finally says. “To…to kiss me, I mean.”

That makes Katsuki’s head whip around to catch the look on his face. He looks both unsure but determined to convince. Katsuki frowns.

“You don’t sound so sure,” he says, cutting to the chase and also not confirming or denying the nerd’s statement.

The damn nerd has the gall to look apologetic. And that pisses Katsuki off enough he starts to feel heat rise to his palms. 

“I-I am,” Izuku stumbles, which doesn’t help his case. “I’m just kinda nervous a-and when you weren’t there this morning, I-I freaked out thinking something happened or you were mad or that things were weird between us and I really didn’t want it to get worse if that were the case and even though there’s...things we haven’t talked about yet between us, I knew I needed to find you and talk about this because I didn’t want to pretend this just didn’t happen or that I haven’t been replaying the moment in my head over and over again ever since it happened because I want you to do it again. I just can’t pretend because…well, because I think it’d drive me crazy if we did.” He takes a big gasping breath at the end of the string of words, sighing a little from the effort. “So yeah, that’s why I had to come find you…”

That’s a lot of information to take in and the green haired boy sits patiently while Katsuki blinks at him, relaying the rambling stream in his mind like a rewound tape.

Something about the way Izuku hesitated before saying one thing gets Katsuki stuck on that more than the confession he wants Katsuki to kiss him again.

(Because that can’t be right, he had to have heard that wrong, a distant part of his brain rationalizes.

Because why would he want that?)

“What do you mean by ‘things we haven’t talked about yet’?” Katsuki frowns.

Katsuki’s been watching him for weeks. If the nerd has something on his mind, that might explain his weird avoidant behavior.

His sudden question seems to catch the nerd off guard because he immediately shuts his mouth with an audible squeak. 

As if he could have forgotten its presence, his heart kicks up into a higher gear.

“I-I mean, uhm,” Izuku starts to pick at the grass, nervous and looking for a distraction. Katsuki remembers all the frayed hems of t-shirts and jacket sleeves and pants that the nerd’s picked to shreds over the years. His own mother would murder Katsuki if he did that to his clothes.

He takes a big breath and exhales loudly, which means he’s about to say a lot.

Katsuki steels himself.

“So much has happened since the war started, especially after you…got hurt the first time.”

And you left to take care of it all on your own, Katsuki thinks bitterly. Without a fucking word. Just a shitty goddamn letter.

“Even when I came back, there was never time to…to talk. We were — No, I was so focused on finding Shigaraki and ending things. It was all I could think about…”

Katsuki remembers. Even after Izuku came back to UA, there was a cageyness to him that didn’t go away. He kept a certain distance between him and the others that no one else seemed to notice.

Almost like if anything happened to him, it’d somehow make it easier to let him go.

Katsuki tightens his hands into fists, refusing to let the heat build.

“You weren’t the same when you came back,” he says in a rasp, still remembering the dull darkness in the nerd’s usually vivid eyes. “Kept everyone at arm’s length. Even your friends.”

Even me.

Izuku looks down with a sad half-smile, like he’s ashamed to admit what he’s saying

. “Yeah,” he says, “I…I kinda shut down for a while…I still do. It's just too much. Even now that...it's really over..."

That makes sense to Katsuki. Those times he noticed Izuku staring off, almost like he wasn’t in his body but somewhere else entirely, it was him separating himself from whatever was hurting him. When he comes out of his room in the afternoons, he always has that look. Like he’s spent hours checked out.

Thinking about Izuku forcing all that shit down just to get through the day makes Katsuki want to punch a hole through a wall.

That isn’t you, Katsuki thinks. You’re made to think and feel and ramble and all that shit that drives me crazy.

You. Not thinking.

That scares me.

He keeps his mouth shut and lets Izuku finish talking.

He sighs deeply, gulping against a lump in his throat before his words come out choked. “But when…you got hurt again  it was like — Fuck — “

He swipes his heel of his hand against the fast flow of tears. He seems frustrated by them.

“I-it was like all my worse fears all happened at once, Kacchan. And then in the hospital when we didn’t know when you’d wake up, I kept thinking of all the things I wanted to say that I thought could wait and…And I just felt like a fucking idiot.”

Green sea glass eyes meet his, filled to burst with every feeling coming to the surface. They’re the same eyes Katsuki first saw when he woke up in the hospital, just swimming with emotion and something Katsuki can’t place.

He feels like he’s been ripped open.

“Because I was so stupid to think that there was anything more important to me than you,” Izuku barely chokes out the words.

And there’s no words that Katsuki could say to describe the feeling that rises in him as Izuku’s words settle in the air, washing over them like a spray of mist.

He feels like he’s been shredded to fucking pieces, his heart somehow stilled to a quiet thump, like it’s just been stunned silent by Izuku’s words.

He just watches as Izuku swipes away the last of his tears, sniffling while he collects himself enough to continue talking because apparently he’s not done and Katsuki’s not about to stop him now.

He needs to hear the rest.

He’d beg for it if he could find his voice.

“And…I still don’t know what it is I want to say to you, Kacchan, and I-I’m sorry. I’m still so fucked up, I…” He shakes his head, disregarding that train of thought. “I don’t even know where to start, but I want to try.”

He reaches out a scarred hand, a sad smile on his gentle face.

God, he’s beautiful, Katsuki thinks not for the first time. 

When Izuku touches him, it sends sparks across his skin.

“And I know it’s selfish to want to stay this close to you when…when I don’t know what I want. I know it’s not fair, Kacchan, I’m sorry,” Izuku visibly gulps. He cups Katsuki’s cheek in his scarred palm, bright green eyes wide and pleading. “But please. Please let me.” 

And with that damn look on his face, Katsuki can’t stop himself from crashing in him, pressing their mouths together in a searing kiss.

His mind starts to race when Izuku’s hands try to pull him closer, pressing in so they share the same breath.

Please be selfish with me.

Me and no one else.

Take what you want.

Rob me fucking blind.

You can have it all.

It’s yours.

If you want it.

If you want me.

But Katsuki doesn’t say any of this out loud. Even when they part, he can’t get his mouth around the words.

All he can manage is, “Ok, Izuku.” 

If he needs time then ok.

This better be a long fucking summer.

Chapter Text

Izuku’s skin is still tingling with electricity when Kacchan finally pulls away. He doesn’t let him get farther than a breath away. Izuku swears there are stars in his eyes. Kacchan’s staring into him and Izuku gazes back into the deep red depths of his irises, not knowing what exactly it is that he’s looking for.

What is this? What are we doing?? What is this feeling? His mind reels.

Because Izuku wants to follow it wherever it leads him.

Especially if it takes him wherever Kacchan goes.

You’re here. Right where I want you, he thinks in awe. It’s a thought he’s had again and again ever since the hospital.

After a second, Kacchan seems to remember where they are smack dab in the center of the school lawn and quickly averts his eyes to the side, a blush creeping up his cheeks. 

God, he's so cute, Izuku thinks.

He’s never going to get tired of seeing that, how shy Kacchan can be when it’s just the two of them.

“Listen,” Kacchan mutters to the grass,  frowning as he thinks. “I know how I feel about all this shit between us, so…I’ll wait til you figure it out too. And when you do, we can talk about it.” He leans back and flicks Izuku on the forehead, diffusing the tension. “So take your fucking time. I’ll wait for you to catch up.”

Izuku rubs the stinging spot. “Really?” he asks.

Kacchan looks away, probably embarrassed to be having this conversation in his grumpy Kacchan way. 

“That’s what I said, dumbass,” he growls, “And if you end up thinking something you wanna shut down, I want you to tell me about it.”

Izuku blinks at him. That was the last thing he expected to hear.

“What?”

Kacchan cards a frustrated hand through his hair, “I’m saying, whatever it is, don’t just sit and deal with it all by yourself. And…ugh. You know, I hate talking about feelings and shit but we should and when we do, we can just fucking figure it out. or whatever.”

He looks back at Izuku, dead serious, “Together.”

Together, his mind echoes.

All their lives, that had always felt like a given. Being together. Izuku doesn’t remember a life where he and Kacchan weren’t together, always within arms length of each other even when they were at completely different levels.

But the way Kacchan says it now sounds like a promise Izuku didn’t know he needed.

Him and Kacchan.

Together.

“Are we together, Kacchan?” Izuku’s voice comes out in a whisper.

“That’s a stupid question,” Kacchan deflects, his crimson gaze glaring daggers straight through Izuku. It makes his palms sweat, how dangerous the blond looks in this moment.

“Are we together, Izuku?” He asks in a low whisper.

The pit of his core is a furnace. He feels the heat lick up his spine like fire. Despite the heat, he shivers.

His mind goes blank.

Kacchan leans forward and bites his cheek, sending a jolt of tingles down Izuku’s neck and effectively snapping him out of his stupor.

And he remembers something.

 “Wait…what do you mean by ‘you know how you feel’? What does that mean? Is that good?”

Kacchan stands in a fluid motion, hands in his pockets. He shrugs and starts to walk off, not turning around to see if Izuku follows when he calls, “Guess you’ll find out.”

“Ah! K-Kacchan!” Izuku scrambles to feet and jogs to catch up with the blond. “Wait! What’s that supposed to mean? Am I supposed to think that’s good or bad??”

When he catches up, Izuku gets another flick to the forehead.

“Ow! Kacchan!”

Kacchan just smirks at him, all remnants of the shy boy who just kissed Izuku all but gone except for the lingering pink at the tips of his ears.

“It means what it means, ya dumb nerd,” he answers cryptically, “Now come on, it’s time for breakfast. I’m starving.”

Before Izuku can argue, warm finger interlace with his own and his palm is enveloped in the warmth of Kacchan’s hand in his. 

“Ok, Kacchan,” he agrees, pacified, “But that goes for you too, okay? If you’re thinking something, we can talk about it too. Not just me.”

Kacchan groans at the idea of talking about his feelings, but agrees. “Fine.”

They walk back to the dorms like that, hand in hand, talking the whole way.

(“Kacchan, were you running this morning? You’re still not allowed to do any high impact activity! Your heart!”

“Fuck off, the old lady said my arms are off limits but legs aren’t arms last time I checked. I’m going to fucking use ‘em if I want. And don’t lecture me, you bastard, my hearts fine!”

“Kacchan!”

“You’re just jealous I got a run in while your lazy ass was slacking off asleep in bed.”

“Well, if a certain jerk had woken me up we could have both gotten a run in today!!”)

__________

Denki notices Bakugou and Midoriya come through the doors right away and elbows Kirishima just in time to catch their linked hands falling to their sides while they toe their shoes off. 

It’s like an alarm goes off in his head whenever something happens with those two.

At first, it was his anxiety over their condition, especially after they first got back from the hospital, but since then it’s evolved into something almost like a sixth sense.

Call him nosey. He calls it being a good pal.

Kirishima shoots him a sideways glance with an eyebrow raised as if to say, ‘You saw that, right?”

Denki shoots back his own look because of course he fucking did.

Before they can pretend they saw nothing, Bakugou glares right at them.

“You two!” He barks too loud for almost nine in the morning. It startles some of the others hanging around the kitchen helping Sato make pancakes. Some of the Class B people arranging the topping bar actually jump, not used to Bakugou’s booming voice. “We’re fucking talking! Right now!”

Denki shares a look with Kirishima that conveys their shared thought.

Oh shit.

“You two! Todoroki!” The blond yells, startling poor Todoroki when he stomps over and grabs him by the shirt, dragging him to the communal bathroom. “Let’s go! Now!”

They don’t hesitate to run after him, earning a confused look from Midoriya as they rush inside and close the door.

“Uh, what’s up, man?” Kirishima tries for a casual tone, which only makes Bakugou snarl further.

“And why couldn’t it wait until after my tea finished steeping,” Todoroki grumbles tiredly. He is not a morning person.

Bakugou stops just in front of the lockers, away from the shower stalls and toilets where others could be listening. He doesn’t seem too concerned about that though.

He crosses his arms and frowns at the three of them in front of him.

“I already talked to Todoroki about Izuku,” he says, not wasting any breath on pleasantries. “And I know you two idiots have been fucking snooping around to find shit out.”

“What? How’d you know?” Denki gasps, not denying the accusation at all. 

“Because I’m not an idiot and you aren’t subtle. At all.” 

Kirishima sheepishly rubs his neck. “Sorry, man, we should have just asked up front. We just care about you guys a lot.”

Bakugou huffs and looks away. “I know that. Just figured after last night it was obvious enough there’s no point beating around the bush about it. I like him, so there, now ya know.”

Ah, yes, last night. The confirmation of their theory made that game worth drinking all the mustard in the world. 

“So…if you’re telling us this, does that mean…something happened between you two?” Denki asks carefully. This is so juicy.

Bakugou actually reddens and Denki realizes with delight that it’s not from anger.

“Something like that,” he answers. “I know where I stand, but the nerd has shit to figure out. So…that’s where we’re at right now. Just thought you fuckers should know since you’re so damn invested even though it’s none of your goddamn business.”

“Well, you’re kinda making it our business now, aren’t you?” Kaminari grins. “You couldn’t wait to tell us, huh?”

Bakugou hesitates to answer just long enough for him and Kirishima to take that as an answer and pounce, locking their friend in a group hug the blond’s guaranteed to hate but will nonetheless accept. 

“Aw, bro! You’re gonna make me cry!” Kirishima cries. “We’re so happy for you! You have no idea!”

“I hate you guys…” Bakugou grumbles under his breath.

“We love you too,” Denki sniffles. God, he’s been a crying mess these days, huh? He pulls away just enough to offer his friend a reassuring smile. “And Midoriya gotta like you back, even if he needs time or whatever! He’d be crazy not to!”

Bakugou opens his mouth to protest, but a new voice cuts him off.

“What about Bakugou and Midoriya? Do they finally like each other?” Sero pops his head around the corner, brushing his teeth.

“What? Did it happen? Did I miss it?” Shoji calls from somewhere on the other side of the wall. “‘Cuz if so, Koda owes five bucks.”

“It’s about time,” Iida’s voice grumbles over the sudden rush of a faucet turning on.

Bakugou facepalms himself, shaking his head. “Anyone else have something they wanna fucking say about my damn business?”

Denki throws an arm around his shoulder. “I think you mean, our business.”

Bakugou groans, patting Kirishima’s back as the redhead prolongs the hug with a wobbly smile on his face.

When they finally leave the bathroom, Denki watches as he tugs Todoroki aside before the guy can slink away.

__________

Izuku gets all of two steps into the common room before Uraraka flags him and pulls him into the corner of the room. Ashido, Asui, Jirou, and Yaomomo eye them from the couch, seeming to read him up and down in a way that makes him feel exposed.

“Did you figure it out?” Uraraka asks him with a serious look in her big, brown eyes.

Izuku blinks at her. “Uh…”

“What we talked about! About Bakugou!!” She snaps.

Oh right. “Uh, no,” he admits shyly, “But…I think I’m starting to.” 

That satisfies his friend enough that she backs away a bit, looking less agitated than a second ago.

“I’d hope so after last night.”

Izuku feels himself blush, thinking about not just last night but their kiss on the lawn. 

Despite the cool morning, Kacchan’s lips were warm, same as the rest of him.

He shakes his head clear of the memory. Not

now.

“We talked earlier,” he says simply, “I’m not sure what it means yet, but…I think it’s good.” 

Uraraka looks at him a moment before smiling fondly and reaching up to ruffle his hair.

“As long as you’re happy,” she says before skipping off.

Izuku thinks about that and realizes with a grin that, yeah, he is happy.

He catches himself wondering how long it will last.

_________

It hits him like a wave two days later. He’s walking through the common room after falling asleep watching a Silver Age All Might documentary in his room. It isn’t fully dark yet but he can’t help but feel like he slept the day away. He even missed dinner, which is weird since usually Kacchan makes a point of coming to his room to get him when dinner’s ready. He must not be around today or maybe he forgot… 

He’s shuffling by the couch where Tokoyami, Sero, and Todoroki are watching a movie, wondering if he has an ramen packets left, when a flash on the TV screen catches his eye.

And suddenly all he can see is red.

And a broken body.

An open cavity where a heart should be.

Red.

'Stay away from him!'

Blood red eyes, sightless and cold.

He reaches out and nothing reaches back.

'Kacchan, wake up! Please just — Just look at me, damnit!!'

He’s lost.

He’s gone.

It’s over.

He’s gone.

'He’s mine! Don't fucking touch him!'

Red red red —

“Izuku!”

He gasps, suddenly back in his body. He’s shaking and his back is cold with sweat.

“Izuku, are you with me?”

Kacchan has him by the shoulders and Izuku looks up to see his eyes hard and focused, shining with concern. They’re both breathing hard, Kacchan’s slower and more focused than his, which feels quick and frantic.

“Izuku,” Kacchan says again.

“Kacchan,” Izuku pants. 

“Are you with me?” His warm hands squeeze him, Izuku focused on the touch. 

He nods.

It’s dark. He notices the warm glow of a distant light reflecting off Kacchan’s face. 

They’re outside. Just outside the dorm. By the garden they planted.

“Ok, talk me through it,” Kacchan orders, though he keeps his volume light. Just for Izuku. “What’s going through your head?”

A pang of pain hits the front of his mind at the reminder.

Tears immediately flood his eyes and his pulse races once more. He can’t find his breath.

“I-it’s too much,” Izuku chokes on the words.

Kacchan’s hands envelope his face, locking him in on both sides to keep Izuku’s gaze on him.

“When have you ever thought that about something before?” Kacchan growls, voice low. “Come on, Izuku. You know you’re stronger than any of us. You can do anything. Even this,” He brings their heads together, centering them both. Kacchan drops his voice to a whisper. “Talk to me, nerd. Come on. I know you can do it.”

Izuku swallows dry. 

Kacchan believes in him.

“I can’t lose you,” his voice comes out in a whisper. He squeezes his eyes shut against the memory. The crushing weight of his world, his future coming down around him. “I can’t, Kacchan. I-I…” He gasps a sob. “I can’t live without you.” 

“Izuku…” Kacchan breathes. It sounds like he wants to argue and Izuku shakes his head roughly to stop his words. 

“Kacchan, I — !” His voice comes out hurried. He doesn’t know if he’s yelling but his throat feels raw. “I’m serious! It’s like every time I start to feel ok, I’m right there again and you’re — “ He can’t even say it without sobbing. Kacchan’s nothing but a watery blob in his vision, the red of his eyes like a homing beacon. “I couldn’t save you. I failed. He hurt you b-because of me and I…I almost lost you. Even when you’re right here, I can still see it, Kacchan. And I can’t run from it anymore.”

“So stop running,” Kacchan says.

“What?” Izuku breathes.

“Don’t run anymore,” Kacchan says, tilting his face up to his. “Face it and know it’s not real. Stop running from it and just…trust that I’m right here.”

“I can’t,” he sobs.

Kacchan swipes a gentle thumb across his cheek. The touch is so careful. It makes Izuku feel more fragile than he’s ever felt in his entire life. 

“What are you afraid of?”

What is he afraid of?

Kacchan’s hands pull him in, strong arms wrap around him.

He feels the press of his mouth against his forehead and the words spoken like a prayer.

“Stay with me, Izuku.”

The wall in his mind shatters.

Red.

It doesn’t go away. It becomes the whole world, the present and future. He can’t escape it. 

He feels his chest rip open, his soul ripped to shreds and laid bare, every ounce of himself turned cold and buried down deep into the ground alongside his promise of victory.

He feels like he's dying and even though he knows it isn't him with an open cavity in his chest, he feels a searing pain spreading from his heart all the same.

It just doesn’t end.

“I’m not strong enough,” his mouth moves. “Everything I did, it didn’t matter in the end. I pushed you away. I-I thought it would protect you but it just made it all worse. I make everything worse, Kacchan. I’m supposed to save people but I kept choosing wrong! And you paid for it.” He hiccups from the fresh wave of sobs. “What if Edgeshot wasn’t there? What if they couldn’t save you? What if — “

There’s a sharp sting at the base of his neck and he jerks from the pain. 

It takes a second to realize that Kacchan just bit him.

“Cut that shit out now,” Kacchan growls. “What the hell are you talking about? You saved everyone! You saved me! We beat All For One together and that’s fucking that! You’re a damn hero!” The blond shakes him roughly and Izuku’s head bobs like a rag doll. “You didn’t make Shigaraki do anything! None of it was your fault, you self-centered asshole! He used Ragdoll’s quirk, he knew how important we are to each other. You don’t think it hurt to hear how useless I was to stop him from using me against you?! Knowing that if I failed you'd lose yourself?! ”

“Kacchan…” He cries weakly.

“I’m not done, hold on,” Kacchan orders. Izuku blinks enough for his vision to clear enough to realize he’s not the only one crying. Thick trails of tears track down Kacchan’s cheeks, completely ignored in favor of the fire in his eyes. 

“You said it to me in the hospital and I’ll say it right back: If I ever hear you talk about yourself like that, I’ll beat your ass, got it?” Kacchan glares. “You’re the strongest, most heroic person I know, Izuku. If you say you’re not strong enough, what does that say about the rest of us? About me? If you’re not good enough, then how can any of us expect to even come close?”

That’s not true, he wants to argue. Kacchan is so much stronger.

But he do anything but look back at Kacchan’s determined face and do his best to believe what he’s saying.

Kacchan touches his forehead to his and drops his voice to barely a whisper.

“You’re so good, Izuku. It’s fucking crazy you don’t see that still. It’s like you can’t help but make everything better.”

“I’m so scared,” he finally speaks.

“I know. Me too.” Kacchan brushes their noses together, featherlight. “But we take it one day at a time. That’s what makes us fucking brave.”

_________

Jirou doesn’t know how she ended up in this situation. All she wanted was to make a phone call in peace.

When she stepped out of the dorm to take her dad’s call, she really didn’t expect to be trapped just around the corner from such an intense interaction.

Her heart’s still in tatters hearing Midoriya sob like that.

She waits a few minutes after Bakugou and Midoriya go back inside to slip through the door herself.

Immediately, she’s pulled by an invisible force — Tooru — over to the circle where all the girls are sitting.

“You saw that, right?” Mina asks in a hushed tone as soon as she sits down.

“Yeah. What happened?” Jirou scratches her hair. She’s still kinda reeling from what she just listened to. 

Ochako shrugs. “Deku walked in and kinda froze and Bakugou came out of nowhere and took him outside for some air. Then they just rushed up to their room without a word.” Jirou notices she says ‘their room,’ which she assumes probably means Bakugou’s room.

“They came out right as I finished my call with my dad,” Jirou confesses, “I heard the whole thing. It was pretty intense.”

“It always is with those guys, isn’t it?” Tsuyu touches her pointer finger to her lip.

An electric hum races up her neck just as a particular yells-haired idiot butts in right next to her.

“Are you talking about what I think you are? Because if you are, you gotta share! Friends share!” Kaminari’s head pops up out of nowhere between her and Momo. Kirishima and Todoroki approach just a couple steps behind, the former offering an apologetic wave.

“Calm down, Chargebolt,” Jirou frowns but makes room for him next to her, “Don’t you think you’re being hella nosey right now just barging into our conversation?”

“You’re the ones gossiping in a closed circle over here in the corner!” He points at her as he sits criss-cross applesauce. “We’re here to make it an open gossip circle.”

“Sorry, but we’re pretty invested already,” Kirishima claps his hands together with a shy grin. 

“What do you know?” Ochako tugs him to share the ottoman with her with a frightening speed. Seems the boys aren’t the only ones invested. 

“I — ”

“Tell me now!” Ochako shakes him by the collar.

“Ok, ok!” The redhead holds up his hands in surrender. "I wasn't gonna say no, man! Calm down!"

“Bakugou talked to us and confirmed there’s something going on between them but they haven’t figured it out,” Todoroki sighs tiredly, crossing his arms. “That’s all?”

“Is it ok for you to tell us that? What if he wanted to keep it private?” Tsuyu asks, concerned.

“If he wanted to keep it secret, then why did he kiss Midoriya in front of all of us the other night?” Mina point out cheerily. “He basically spelled it out for everyone clear as day.”

“Not everyone,” Sero appears suddenly, nearly making Momo jump out of her pants with a surprised yelp. “All the guys’ve known for weeks. Plus, I’m pretty sure he knew we were all listening when he told these guys.” He points to Kirishima, Kaminari, and Todoroki.

“Dude’s perceptive as hell,” Kirishima nods, grinning at his friend’s skill.

“Bakugou’s not hiding a thing or being subtle,” Sero continues, “I think Midoriya’s just dense.”

“Tell me about it,” Ochako visibly deflates. “I thought he’d get it by now, but he might be hopeless…”

“They’ve been through a lot lately. These things should take time,” Shoji crosses his arms over his chest thoughtfully. Jirou looks around and sees everyone in the class gathered in the circle to weigh in. 

Man, she is really off her stealth game today.

“If Bakugou has admitted his innermost feelings, then that is already a righteous and noble step toward the progression of their relationship,” Tokoyami nods.

Damn! Even Tokoyami has a horse in this race??

Jirou shoots Momo a wide-eyed look, like ‘Did you know how deep any of this went?’

Momo shrugs a shoulder in a way that says, ‘Eh, more or less.’

Wow. And here she was thinking it was just some little crush between friends.

“That’s the thing,” Todoroki says. “Bakugou’s told us that, but not Midoriya. I don’t think he really believes Midoriya feels the same even if that’s what he wants.”

Ochako groans, throwing her head back so hard Iida jumps to keep her from swinging back and hitting her head.

“Jeeeez, they really are perfect for each other,” she says. “Equally matched and equally dense.” She reddens with frustration and punches the table. “I mean, come on! We all saw that heartfelt confession in the rain! What more can they do after that!!”

“Please cheer up Uraraka!” Koda puts a hand on her heaving shoulder, trying to put a positive spin on the situation. “I’m sure they’ll work it out!”

“And we just all have to watch it like it’s happening in slow motion?” Kaminari whines. “It’s obvious they like each other! Why can’t anyone just come out and say it??”

“Bakugou did,” Todoroki point out.

“But not to the one person who needs to hear it!” Kaminari cries, now hanging off of Todoroki who’s unaffected.

The whole circle seems to deflate with a collective sigh, all visibly tired at thinking about this being drawn out any longer.

Jeez, Jirou’s starting to feel like she’s been missing out on something. 

“Seriously,” Sero slumps against Todoroki’s other side, leaning his head against the boy’s shoulder. “For two guys who always rush into things, it sure feels like they’re taking their sweet time…” 

“Urgh! This is so frustrating!” Mina pouts, already equally invested after less than five minutes, “Just kiss already!”

“I wish there was something we could do to help them,” Kirishima crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well,” Todoroki speaks up and all eyes hone in on him and his serious expression.

“What is it, Todoroki? Spill,” Ochako leans forward. She has that look on her face that says she’s already all in, whatever it is if it means helping her friends. 

“Bakugou mentioned something that he needs help with,” Todoroki starts to explain. “We don’t have much time to get ready if we want to help him out…”

__________

The next couple weeks fly by.

Along with diligently watching the seeds they planted grow into tiny specs of green buds and raiding Kacchan’s mom of her scrapbooking materials, Izuku and Kacchan decide that they need to work up to painting. It’s one of the more technically difficult things on the list, so if they want to give it their all they’ll have to do more preparation than some of the other activities. 

(Especially since Kacchan is so stubbornly opposed to ever knocking creative writing off their list.)

“Maybe we should practice drawing in pencil before we try to paint?” Izuku suggested after their supplies were dropped off at the dorm. “Neither of us really know how to draw.”

“What are you talking about?” Kacchan looked up from the photo he was gluing down with a look like he couldn’t believe how stupid he sounded, “I see you draw in your nerd notebooks all the time.”

Izuku blushed. He forgets how perceptive Kacchan is sometimes.

Still, they agree to draw as much as they can before they try to introduce paint. Realistically, they should practice longer than they plan to, but they’re both too impatient to give themselves a longer timeline so they decide to just throw themselves into it and see what happens. This means that after they hit the dorm gym before lunch (still strictly low impact exercises for Kacchan, much to the blond’s chagrin), most of their afternoons are spent watching tutorials and finding videos of live models and object compositions to sketch. They definitely value quantity and speed over quality or detail, but it helps them from overthinking.

Though he still struggles with full control of his right hand, Kacchan throws himself into the practice furiously, even going so far as wearing a small sling bag to keep his sketchbook always within arms reach. 

Izuku catches himself looking at Kacchan while he sketches more than focusing on his own.

The few times Kacchan catches him, he scolds him to “keep your eyes on your own paper, nerd” without ever looking up from his moving pencil.

Kacchan wasn’t kidding when he said he doesn’t half-ass anything.

He really is amazing.

Ever since their talk outside the dorm, Kacchan keeps him busy, never letting him retreat to his room alone for very long and always with the windows open to let the sun in. Most of the time they sketch, but sometimes they sit on the bed and read or put on an All Might documentary as background noise while they do a puzzle and talk.

Kacchan’s new favorite question’s quickly become:

“What are you thinking right now, nerd?”

“Izuku, what are you thinking? Talk.”

“What’s going on in there? And don’t think about it before you answer.”

Sometimes it feels like pulling teeth answering Kacchan’s questions. 

But it starts to get easier.

It feels like they’re together all the time now.

Izuku still doesn’t think about that and thankfully, it’s the one thing Kacchan doesn’t press him on.

When Kacchan’s away, he’s at band practice with Jirou and the others. She decided to get the band from the UA festival together, saying it can count for the assignment for anyone who hasn’t decided on a subject. Kacchan agreed so now along with his schedule of leaving the dorm after breakfast, returning to work out before lunch, then spending the afternoons with Izuku, occasionally he’s gone for a few hours before bed to rehearse.

It’s a schedule Izuku quickly starts to rely on to keep track of the days. It’s starting to feel normal, having something to work on and put your all into everyday.

It’s a peace Izuku could get used to. 

And one he is getting use to.

He’s so caught up in it, he doesn’t realize weeks have passed until he wakes up one morning nose to nose with a sleeping Kacchan and suddenly, the reminder that yes, they have kissed, that was real, it happened, all floods back to him at once.

Oh wow, he thinks as he takes in the flutter of Kacchan’s eyelashes as he stirs lightly from sleep.

Kacchan hasn’t brought up their talk on the lawn or tried to kiss Izuku again since that first time. Come to think of it, any time they touch or hold hands, it’s always Izuku who reaches first. The only exception is when Izuku gets caught in a blank spiral and Kacchan reaches to pull him out of it.

He realizes then, like a dense idiot, that Kacchan must be waiting on Izuku like he said he would. They’ve talked so much lately, but he must be waiting for Izuku to bring up the subject when he ready. He probably doesn’t want to seem pushy or be forward if…

His heart clenches. 

Kacchan goes about showing his care in such a roundabout way sometimes.

It probably took a lot of bravery the first time they kissed, Izuku thinks. He didn’t know what would happen. 

He’s always been brave like that.

So in a moment of his own bravery, Izuku brushes the blond hair away from Kacchan’s forward and presses a light kiss to his brow, testing the waters of the new ground he’s realized he may be able to tread. His pulse leaps into his throat.

He smells like Kacchan, like sweet spice and fresh soap.

When Izuku pulls back, Kacchan’s eyes are open, taking him in like he’s analyzing his every move.

“Oh, good morning, Kacchan,” Izuku gulps, sounding guilty for being caught.

Kacchan’s crimson eyes seem to look straight into him, glancing him up and down before his gaze settles shyly on the collar of Izuku’s shirt.

“Morning,” he mumbles and pulls Izuku closer, burying his sleepy face into his hair. Izuku feels warm breath against his neck and he shivers down to his fingertips.

“M’ sorry to keep you waiting,” Izuku murmurs, winding his arm  around Kacchan’s neck, scratching lightly at his hair.

“Don’t be,” Kacchan orders softly, though Izuku can hear a sadness in it. “…Just keep talking to me.”

“What do you mean?” Izuku’s hand stills.

Kacchan shifts until their foreheads are touching and their noses brush lightly while he explains.

“I mean, don’t forget I’m here again,” he says and his morning voice rasps through every low syllable. “Don’t just deal with it on your own.”

Kacchan doesn’t see the look of absolute awe in Izuku’s eyes. 

He remembers rain on another day when Kacchan said something similar.

“You keep telling me that,” Izuku breathes a little laugh.

“Well, you keep needing me to fucking say it,” Kacchan teases, bumping their foreheads together lightly.

Izuku nuzzles closer, their noses brushing lightly. He feels so warm inside and out with the comforter to their chins and strong arms wrapped around each other.

“You’re my hero, Kacchan,” he breathes.

He hears Kacchan’s breath catch, he tenses the slightest bit in Izuku's arms.

“You’re such a damn idiot,” the feels Kacchan mutter, the rumble low in his chest.

“Yeah” Izuku laughs. “But it’s true. Who else would do everything you’ve done for me?”

Izuku can’t even count all the unspoken ways Kacchan cares for him. He knows that for all his arrogant confidence, Kacchan’s never been the type to boast about what he does, just what he promises to do. When Kacchan does something, it’s unspoken but deliberate.

It’s just one thing that makes Kacchan so amazing.

“Plenty of people love you, Izuku,” Kacchan counters.

“Not like you,” he quietly insists.

Kacchan doesn’t immediately deny what that implies, instead he looks down pensively, his mouth screwed in a tight line like he’s trying to argue but coming up short on arguments.

It’s a little victory, but to Izuku it feels worth more than the world.

“I never got to tell you but, your apology was really beautiful,” he takes the chance to say. “I didn’t think I needed to hear that from you, it really never occurred to me, but hearing it…it meant a lot, Kacchan.”

Kacchan stays silent, still avoiding Izuku’s wide gaze. So he takes him by his smooth cheek, thumbing the raised edge of his scar and gently urges Kacchan to look at him, to see the truth in his eyes when he says these words.

“I already forgave you. You have to know that by now.”

He feels Kacchan tremble in his hands. 

“I don’t deserve that from you,” he says in a voice so small Izuku barely catches it, even as close as they are.

Izuku just smiles. “Now who sounds like a damn idiot?”

Though that gets the smallest smile out of him, Kacchan’s lip still quivers. Izuku just wants to kiss it away.

So he does.

It starts with a flutter in his chest when their lips meet. It’s a soft and sweet thing when he feels Kacchan’s lips move against his, a hand winding gently in his hair, too timid to push or pull one way or the other. 

It’s like their kiss on the lawn. It’s so good.

But Izuku can’t stop himself from wanting more.

His hands move on their own, carding into Kacchan’s hair and pulling him in closer until their breath starts to catch and their bodies meet in the middle of the bed.

Kacchan gasps when Izuku in a fit of blind madness licks into his mouth, earning him entrance to the warm heat of him. He hums into the kiss when their tongue meet and his brain starts to tingle.

That’s better.

Soon Izuku’s not the only one tugging. Kacchan winds their legs together until they’re no longer two people but a single knot. The grip in Izuku’s hair tightens and the press of Kacchan’s lips against his grows more insistent until suddenly, they’re pulled apart, gasping.

“Izuku,” Kacchan tries to breathe, but Izuku won’t let him.

You’re not getting away from me, he thinks.

He pulls him back, mouth open and more hurried than before. 

Never again.

Kacchan sighs but doesn’t try to speak again, dragging his teeth across Izuku’s bottom lip in a way that sets his brain on fire. 

Izuku can’t help but gasp against his lips. He kisses him like he’s dying, like he has nothing left but this to say his piece before everything crumbles around them and Kacchan disappears from his hands like smoke. 

He kisses him like he’s always wanted to.

The thought is straight electricity to his nervous system. He can’t think. Better to keep it that way.

He kisses Kacchan hard and messy and holds him like he wants to phase straight through him, like no amount of closeness will ever feel close enough until they’re one and the same.

Every time they part, they’re drawn right back together. 

“Izuku, slow down,” Kacchan gasps as Izuku kisses his way down his neck, toward the scar that starts at the base of his shoulder. “Wait a sec, you damn animal,” he laughs when Izuku shakes his head, stubborn.

“Can’t, Kacchan,” he breathes against the smooth skin poking out from the stretch collar of his t-shirt. “Waited long enough. Haven’t you?”

Kacchan stills at the question. Their eyes meet and that’s all Izuku needs to know his answer.

Fucking hell. Could it have been like this all this time? 

Kacchan hums wordlessly into his next kiss, sounding content, like he’ll do this as long as he wants, until he’s satisfied.

But if they wait til then, Izuku thinks they’ll never stop.

I’ll never get enough of you, he thinks. 

But please. 

Let me try.

__________

Katsuki doesn’t know what to think even as he’s looking down at Izuku, dead asleep again after making out for what felt like hours. Really, it hasn't even been an hour since they woke up.

The best hour of his damn life.

He thumps his head against the headboard with a heavy sigh. Where the hell did that even come from?

Did the nerd finally figure something out?

Clearly, if he can flip a switch on Katsuki like that without a moment’s hesitation.

His lips are still tingling. 

It’s nice, he admits.

It’s really fucking nice.

Something about that thought tugs painfully in the pit of his stomach. His skin starts to tingle and he clenches his jaw, grimacing when he remembers himself.

He squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to fucking breath against the pain.

'I already forgave you,' Izuku whispered against his lips. Katsuki feels his heart twist painfully.

Nice.

Since when did he deserve nice things?

Damn it. What the fuck is he doing?

He can’t sit still anymore. Somehow he manages to crawl over Izuku and slip out without waking him at all, making sure to leave a note on the desk that no, nothing’s wrong, i just went out to get some air, don’t freak out, nerd. see ya after breakfast.

It’s barely eight yet so he doesn’t have to be as careful to not run into anyone on his way out the door. He’s fucking grateful for that. He really doesn’t need to be bombarded by god-knows-who about god-knows-what right now. It doesn’t help that it feels like eyes are on him constantly ever since Todoroki recruited the rest of the class to help with his plan for Izuku’s birthday.

Damn it, that’s coming up faster than he expected too and they’re barely ready. Thankfully it seems like that’s the last thing on the nerd’s mind these days. Plus their drawing mission’s taken up so much of his attention that at least Katsuki doesn’t have to worry about the nerd not expecting it.

After the shit show this year’s been, Izuku deserves to have a fucking good birthday. 

Nothing’s going to ruin it. Not over his dead body.

He makes his way to the main campus in nothing but his pajamas and slippers, making his way to the training grounds where he knows Aizawa and Recovery Girl will show up to perform his daily physical and check up. They’ve only been meeting here the past couple weeks rather than in the old lady’s office. 

No doubt Aizawa will ask him to try his quirk again. 

And no doubt it’ll fail to show up. Again.

After that first time he tried, it took him out so hard, he fell asleep at his parents’ place way into the late afternoon. They took the opportunity to rope him into staying for dinner, making him get back to the dorms late.

Only to find Izuku fucking frozen and blanked out in the common room the second he stepped through the door.

Since then he hasn’t tried to use his quirk again.

Just another fucking thing to think about but also not think about because thinking about it pisses him the off and he can’t get too fucking pissed off otherwise his fucking head will pop off or whatever the stupid shitty doctors said!! 

And now he’s pissed. Figured.

He sulks all the way to the thankfully still empty grounds. Good. He needs to clear his head of all this shit before Aizawa tries to get him to talk about his feelings or some crap.

He shoves his feet further in his slippers and starts to jog a lap. Might as well if he’s this early.

Or that’s what he thinks until something suddenly grabs him by the ankle and he trips face down into the dirt.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Aizawa-sensei deadpans from his hidden perch up above.

“What the hell, old man,” Katsuki growls as he kicks off the capture scarf. “What are you even doing here?”

“Call it a sixth sense for troublemakers with bad ideas,” his teacher drawls, jumping down lithely without a sound. “Or maybe the campus security notify me wherever any of my problem children come and go. Who’s to say?”

“You worry too much,” Katsuki brushes his pants clean of dirt and shoves his hands in his pockets, sulking away from the tall lanky man.

“I wonder why,” Aizawa deadpans. He falls in step with Katsuki. I guess they’re taking this lap around the training ground together. Katsuki groans.

“Recovery Girl says your condition is improving,” Aizawa starts. Katsuki hates when he gets chatty. It’s so unsettling. “The internal deterioration to your muscles has repaired enough that if you continue this progress, you should be able to return to your regular training schedule come fall as long as you don’t overwork yourself right away.” He stops walking as he pauses. “Of course, that’s only if…”

Oh here we fucking go.

“…You can show you can control your quirk by then.”

If Katsuki’s visibly seething like he thinks he is, Aizawa doesn’t give any indication he’s affected in the slightest.

“Yeah, yeah, you said all that yesterday, I fucking heard you,” he says through clenched teeth. He glares at his slippers. “You can save your breath and both of our time ‘cuz I’m already telling you it’s not happening today either.”

“Oh?” Aizawa muses. “I suppose not with that attitude, no.”

This fucking guy.

He starts to feel heat rise to his skin, all down his back and arms. He takes a sharp inhale of breath, counts to five, then practically exhales smoke.

“Quit trying to rile me up,” he cuts a sharp glare up to his teacher, finally meeting his stoic gaze. “I know what you’re trying to do, sensei, it’s not going to work.”

Aizawa looks down at him, unimpressed, then hums and quirks his mouth into a slight smirk.

“I see you’ve been taking your doctors words to heart and keeping a cool head,” the man almost sounds impressed. “That’s good, but I’ll admit I’m worried you’ve taken it too far and suppressed your quirk in the process. It would make sense after the trauma you and your body have gone through.”

Katsuki waves an annoyed hand, like he could swat the words out of the air. He’s tired of hearing this shit over and over.

“Yeah, yeah, shit happened to me, it’s not my fault, blah, fuckin' blah, I get it,” he groans again, already exhausted from this conversation. “You and the old lady, my parents, All Might. You all tell me that basically every damn day. I fucking heard you, so hear me when I tell you: I’m. Not. Ready.”

He’s breathing hard when he finishes his rant. Aizawa stands with his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadably.

“That’s fine,” the man finally says. It just makes more heat rise to Katsuki’s skin, simmering anger in his core that burns the back of his throat. “It’s perfectly ok to take your time. Just don’t set limits on yourself that don’t serve anything but your fear of failing.”

The man turns to walk back to where Katsuki can see Recovery Girl arriving in the distance, All Might’s tall, gaunt figure walking beside her. 

Great. More witnesses to his inevitable failure.

He wonders how many times the old lady’s gonna make them watch him fail to run to the pole and back today to check his heartrate. Maybe his stupid heart’ll finally pop and he can be done with this shit.

He knows he should feel at least some sense of accomplishment from his progress, but he can’t muster it when he knows he started from pretty much zero.

The first month of these check ups and little physical tests were so exhausting that for a while he’d have to trudge over to his parents’ apartment and crash until the afternoon. It was easier and slightly less humiliating than going back to the dorms where his friends — or worse, Izuku — would no doubt dote on him and worry their asses off over his health.

No, he was fucking done with people worrying about him.

He shuffles after his teacher with his head down, glaring at the ground as they go.

“Who says I’m afraid,” he grumbles just to be difficult.

Aizawa still answers with a tired sigh.

“Seriously, kid? Who wouldn’t be?”

__________

After Bakugou trudges off back to the dorms for breakfast and probably a morning workout, Shota makes his way back to the teacher dormitory with All Might who, unfortunately, is chattier than usual.

“It seems Young Bakugou is making good progress,” he muses, his tone betraying his intention to gossip. “He seemed quite fired up today.”

Shota decides to indulge him. What the hell. They’ve got nothing better to talk about and he’d be lying if he said teachers never gossiped about their students when the kids are out of earshot.

“Still nothing compared to his usual self,” Shota says dully. “Though, I’d be surprised if he went back to being the same hot headed punk he used to be before all this. He’s had to grow up, like they all have, unfortunately.”

All Might nods solemnly having seen that exact change happen in Midoriya what feels like ages ago now. Seriously, Shota always had a sneaking suspicion the former Number One had to be a mentor in some form or another to his troublemaking student due to the similarities in their quirks, but he’d never imagined the extent of that mentorship before the secret of One For All was revealed.

Guess the older hero does have more to him than Shota initially gave him credit for.

“Yes,” All Might agrees, “Those two have quite the history. It seems they’ve been very close ever since this all came to a close and I can’t help but be glad for it. Young Midoriya needs someone like Young Bakugou by his side to keep his head right.”

“I think that goes for both of them,” Shota says. “Though ‘close’ seems to be an understatement these days given what I’ve heard.”

“Oh?” All Might perks up but Shota mimes zipping his mouth closed and flicking away the key before picking up his pace and walking ahead to leave the former pro to dangle.

All Might tries to pry more out of him, but Shota’s already tuning him out, already tired from all the work that’s waiting for him when they get back. Though despite the mountain of things on his plate, again he starts to think about his kids. His loud class of overly eager, naive kids…

Given all the emails and request forms that have flooded his desk the past few weeks, it seems that Bakugou and the class have something big planned coming up for Midoriya’s birthday and he has a sneaking suspicion Bakugou is at the helm of the whole operation.

He sighs. If the kid has this much time to worry about Midoriya over himself, he has a bad feeling Midoriya’s doing the same worrying about Bakugou.

Honestly, sometimes it feels like these kids are trying to force him into an even earlier retirement…

__________

Yaomomo makes sure everyone is equipped with a pencil or pen before the meeting begins, insisting that taking notes during the discussion will help the information stick even if they have to get rid of the evidence after.

Eijirou taps his anxiously on the pad of paper balanced on his leg. It feels silly to be nervous, but he can’t help it. He knows they’ve all taken precautions to keep all their work over the past few weeks secret, even asking Midoriya’s mom and All Might to invite Midoriya out of the dorm for dinner so they have a long enough window to review the preparations one last time. 

He’s pumped up just thinking about it.

He turns in his chair and grins when Tetsutetsu flashes him a big thumbs up from where he’s sitting with the rest of his class. Eijirou tries to catch Tamaki’s eye, but the guy seems preoccupied getting Nejire to stop bouncing in her seat, embarrassed she might be drawing attention to them.

“Ok, we’re all here, we can start,” Yaomomo claps her hands to get everyone’s attention then returns them quickly to the laptop she’s prepared to type all the meeting notes on. Man, she’s so thorough.

“Please, I request you turn your full undivided attention toward Bakugou!” the class rep shouts to the already quiet room, waving his arm at the blond at the front of the room.

Bakugou cute a sharp glare around the room, frowning with his shoulders pushed back in that cocky way that reminds Eijirou of when they first met. Across the common room he meets Kaminari's side eye, seeing he's thinking the same thing. They haven't seen this Bakugou in months. Seems he’s putting on a front now that people from outside Clas A are here watching him.

“Alright, you assholes, listen up and listen good,” he says gruffly and knocks his fist against the whiteboard full of information and scheduling. “You know why we’re here and you know we’ve got limited fucking time to go over it.”

He points to the schedule on the left side of the board. “We’ve only got one shot to do thisright. And if any of you assholes screw it up, I will personally rip your heads off, you got that?”

Eijirou swears he can hear Tamaki gulp out of fear from behind him.

They all watch Bakugou smirk. “Alright. Let’s get on with this shit…”

When Bakugou turns his back to scrawl out the map of their plan, Eijirou takes a second to glance around the room. He sees every pair of eyes laser focused and just as determined.

Huh. Seems like he’s not the only one fired up.

Alright. He gets his pencil moving.

Let’s do this.

Chapter Text

Ochako wakes up bright and early on the day of Izuku’s birthday. She was so fired up she almost couldn’t get to sleep. The only thing that finally got her to shut her eyes was the reminder that she needed to be in top form for today if their plan is going to work.

She slaps her cheeks in the mirror and looks at her flushed cheeks and shining eyes in the mirror. 

Ok. She’s ready.

Once she’s dressed, she makes her way down to the common area where she finds Deku and Bakugou in the kitchen, making breakfast—or at least Bakugou is. Izuku’s silently scrolling on phone from his seat at the counter when he looks up to see her walk in.

“Uraraka! Good morning!” He greets with a big smile. “You’re not usually up this early.”

From behind his head Bakugou shoots her a glare.

‘What the hell are you doing going off script??’ He mouths quickly. ‘It’s supposed to be a normal fucking day!!’

He whips back around to the stove just as Deku turns to look at him and she can’t help but smirk. When she catches his sideways glance, she sticks her tongue out at him.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she answers, taking up a spot next to her friend. “It’s a special day after all.”

“Hm? Really?” Deku tilts his head innocently as Bakugou visibly seethes and starts cooking more furiously.

Huh, so Bakugou was right. He really did forget his birthday.

Good thing they all already decided not to greet him until the surprise.

“Huh? Everything ok, Kacchan? Do you need help?” Deku leans forward, sounding concerned. His ‘Kacchan-sense’ must have pinged the second Bakugou tensed.

“M’fine, nerd,” the boy grumbled through clenched teeth. “Nothing to worry about. We both know you can’t fucking cook.”

“Just because I can’t make as much stuff as you doesn’t mean I can’t cook, Kacchan! Especially breakfast! I’ve been making my own eggs since, like, elementary school!” Deku whines, pouting his lip out.

“Then why do you fucking overcook them every time?” Bakugou barks.

“Because that’s how I like them! You make yours too runny!”

Ochako has to stifle a giggle. Maybe he just wants to be the one who makes it for you, dummy, she thinks as they continue to bicker.

She can’t tell whose expression is better when Bakugou drops a buffet’s spread of breakfast on the counter in front of Izuku. He even dollops the whipped cream and butter on the pancakes in the shape of a smiley face with french toast sticks sticking up on the head to look like All Might.

Izuku’s in tears before they even dig in. 

“Ahhh, Kacchan! This is amazing!” 

When Izuku’s not looking, Ochako shoots Bakugou a wink as she takes her first bite. (Man, can Bakugou cook!) The guy actually smiles back, all too pleased how the day’s already going.

Oh yeah. Izuku’s not gonna know what hit him today.

She never thought she’d be so excited to make her friend cry before. At least she knows for sure they’ll be happy ones.

__________

After an incredible breakfast, Izuku goes through his usual morning routine once Kacchan’s leaves the dorms for his morning…whatever it is Kacchan does after breakfast. He’s lying upside down on his bed rereading a hero manga when the telltale stomping of Kacchan’s footsteps down the hallway alerts him the blond’s made it back.

Kacchan kicks the door open and glares at Izuku when he sees his position.

“All your blood’ll rush to your head like that, idiot,” Kacchan scolds, hands in his pockets.

“I think that’s just what moms say to get you to not do it, Kacchan,” Izuku laughs as he flips over onto his feet. It makes him dizzy.

But Kacchan’s already there to steady him, taking him by the shoulders and straightening his shirt.

“And clearly you didn’t listen, dumbass,” he says. “Now come on, we’re going to the gym. Grab your stuff.”

Izuku obeys but still eyes Katsuki’s baggy cargo pants and tank top, scars fully exposed for the first time outside of his room. Even the one that curves across his face and slashes through his eyebrow. He shakes his head, realizing he’s staring again.

“Don’t you want to change first?” Izuku asks as he turns away. He goes to grab his gym bag just as the blond shakes his head.

“Not that gym, the main one,” Kacchan explains, grabbing the bag Izuku keeps all his art and craft supplies in and swinging it over his shoulder. “Got something for us to finally paint. Let’s go.”

Oh. Now that makes Izuku nearly trip over his feet to follow Kacchan out the door. He slips on his red sneakers while Kacchan laces up his combat boots and grabs his own bag left by the door.

“What are we painting?” Izuku tries to ask but Kacchan cuts him off with a look that tells him he’ll find out when they get there.

Izuku notices that the common area’s oddly quiet…and empty. Huh, maybe that’s why Kacchan’s ok with his scars showing, he thinks. 

“Wonder where everyone’s gone today…” He mumbles under his breath. They were all down here just an hour ago for breakfast.

“Don’t got all day, nerd,” Kacchan warns from the propped open door and Izuku jumps to his feet.

“Right! Sorry, Kacchan!”

They cut through campus to get to the main gym where Kacchan leads them around the back to a classroom that’s usually reserved for fitness equipment and extra books.

“What’re we — “ Izuku starts to ask before he walks in and sees it. 

The classroom’s been cleared out of all the extra stuff so the space is more open than Izuku’s ever seen it before. The windows are unblocked and there’s a long table next to the white tarp where a pristine, white canvas a whole head taller than them is propped up. 

“Ah! Kacchan! What!!” He exclaims, his mouth suddenly incapable of forming coherent words. “Ah! This—I mean—you!! What!”

Kacchan pushes him inside with a cocky smirk.

“I asked Aizawa if we could use this place to paint,” he explains. “School barely uses it and he doesn’t want us fucking messing up the dorms for the sake of shitty ‘art.’ Plus the art club’s already got dibs on the school stuff so…” He gestures to the room. “Here we are.”

He looks at all the supplies including a stack of smaller canvases of various sizes gathered at the base of the huge one and sputters, “But where did — ?”

“School paid for it all,”  Kacchan answers again casually, rubbing his neck. “It’s technically for the project so I just had to get it approved with Aizawa. The form was a bitch to fill out…”

Izuku blinks at him. His brain still hasn’t processed that Kacchan really did all of this. “I-Is that ok? From my research, all this stuff looks professional level quality. Isn’t that…too much?”

Kacchan just rolls his eyes. “This school can afford robots, Izu. I think they can spare some chump change on a couple fucking cans of paint…” 

“I guess…” But he still does the quick calculations in his head.

A hand lands on Izuku’s head and shakes him out of his thoughts.

“And…” Kacchan leans until they’re almost nose to nose, his carmine eyes taking up Izuku’s entire field of vision. “It’d be pretty fucked up to say no to the guy who saved all of hero society as we know it at fucking sixteen.”

And then his eyes soften, his pupils wide and softer than Izuku’s ever seen and he can’t help the way his heart skips up into his throat.

“Seventeen now, as of today actually,” Kacchan grins, it’s lopsided and shy and all Izuku ever wants to see for as long as he lives. 

Something drops into Izuku’s palm.  It’s a small box.

“Happy birthday, Izuku.”

Izuku just stares down dumbly as Kacchan gingerly pulls the string on the box and lifts the top.

And it all crashes down on him at once. The breakfast, the paint, the surprise. 

He barely has a second to take the little Deku action figure in his hand before his vision starts to swim and the world becomes a big blur. His knees go wobbly as he trembles with every feeling at once and when he can’t hold himself up, he falls against Kacchan’s chest.

Of course, he’s there to catch him.

“Heh, I thought you’d like it,. Figured it’ll be the first of many now that you’re so popular with the public,” Kacchan keeps talking into his hair. “…Wanted it to look kinda worn out like your old All Might ones before the paint jobs got all fucked with increased mass production. Took a while to get just right but Yaoyorozu has a friend in general studies with a quirk that helped her get all the details and figure out the posable limbs. I didn’t think the face’d be right when I showed her my sketch, so that’s why your hood and mask are up, by the way, know you don’t normally wear ‘em…Thought it looked badass though so — “

Holy fucking god, his heart is going to burst if Kacchan keeps talking. 

“Is that where you’ve been every morning??” Izuku still sobs as he wipes his face on Kacchan’s shirt. It’s a shame, Izuku likes this shirt on him. 

“Sometimes,” he hears the blond laugh above him. “And sometimes I don’t actually have band practice when I say I do…”

“Kacchan! I-I…” Izuku wheezes. He can’t even find the words for how he feels right now. 

The arms around him pull away just enough to cup his jaw, tilting it up to see the smile on Kacchan’s face.

“I…I forgot about my…” He sniffles. It’s really already the middle of July? He thought he was getting better at tracking the days.

Kacchan presses a soft kiss to his brow and speaks against it, breath warm.

“I know. S’ok, nerd.”

It is.

Because you remembered, he thinks.

You remembered. 

He can’t help but surge forward to kiss him, nearly toppling them both when they run up against the table.

“You’re gonna give us both a concussion,” Kacchan laughs, steadying them both to lean against the edge of the table, warm hand still cupping Izuku’s cheek. “You fucking nerd.”

Izuku can’t stop smiling. 

And it’s like the world closes in around them as he commits every inch of Kacchan’s smile to memory, nothing existing outside of where they’re touching. And when Izuku tilts his chin up to kiss him again, sweet and slow and mind-meltingly good, he feels everything sharpen to perfect clarity as their mouths finally meet. 

Like everything makes sense for the first time.

Like a protective wall comes down and he sees the terrifying, all encompassing truth.

Izuku loves Kacchan.

He’s in love with him. Right now, in his hands, in this blessed moment, he loves him the way he always has.

__________

They start on the smaller canvases, saving the bigger one to tackle together once they’ve gotten down some ideas of what they eventually want to make. Izuku can barely concentrate on anything he’s doing, his body moving on it’s own while his mind screams after that life-changing revelation. It almost feels like Danger Sense is constantly active, like anxious nerve in his brain sparking on and on again. He feels his spine wind itself into an impossible knot that only tightens the more he breathes through it.

I love Kacchan, he thinks again and again, turning over the words and finding them true every time. 

Holy shit. I love Kacchan.

He feels like he’s physically vibrating off the high of everything that’s happened today. He can’t even look at the Deku figurine without wanting to sob yet. To think Kacchan thought to make it for him. The cocky pride on his face when Izuku first laid eyes on it nearly did him in.

God, I love him.

Every time he glances over at Kacchan while he works, Izuku feels his face immediately start to flush before he tears his gaze away.

He’s just sitting there totally unaware that Izuku’s having a total full blown crisis!

Since when? Did he always feel this way? When did it change? How did he not know?

Because knowing now is terrifying, his mind fills in the answer. And yeah, that makes sense. If he’d had this revelation any sooner, Izuku thinks he might have passed out instantly.

He thinks back to the notebook he had in the hospital and wishes he could flip through it now to track the information like a timeline.

(Maybe he should look at it again when they get back later.)

Because looking back, a lot of things make sense.

His nerves when Black Whip first appeared, why he stopped himself from revealing why it first went off to begin with. 

Why he nearly lost One For All after Kacchan was hurt the first time. Why he ran because the thought of anyone hurting him like that again terrified Izuku to his core.

Why he nearly tore Shigaraki limb from limb after…

He clenches his teeth. It still hurts to think about, but talking more’s helped him remember things he whited out before.

Like the burning shame he feels in his chest when he remembers the rage he felt in that fight.

The singular thought that no matter what, no matter the consequences…

He wanted to maim anyone who even touched Kacchan, wanted to make them hurt the way they made him hurt.

Izuku would have killed Shigaraki in that moment had he had the right chance.

He knows he shouldn’t think things like that. It’s not what a hero would do. But in that moment he didn’t feel like a hero.

He felt like he’d lost everything.

Why did it have to be Kacchan. It could have been anyone but him. Anyone. And Izuku knows he would have been fine, would have kept a clear head.

That makes him sick to think too. But he doesn’t regret it.

It’s ok for Izuku to go down in a fight, it’s ok for Izuku to sacrifice everything. But please, not Kacchan. Anyone but him.

He thinks that with no hesitation or remorse and now Izuku knows why.

Because he loves him. 

More than anything, even his own life.

He sneaks another look at the blond, letting himself relish the image of him in front of him. 

Kacchan is so focused, Izuku notes with a smile. He’s really putting his all into this painting thing, maybe more than the other stuff they’ve tried.

Kacchan runs a hand through his hair and smears a bit of paint on his forehead and into his hair. He realizes it and curses down at his palm, like it’s betrayed him.

Oh my fucking god!

I love him!!

He buries his face in his hands. groaning at himself. How the hell is he supposed to get through the rest of the day like this?

Izuku nearly jumps out of his skin when Kacchan taps him on the shoulder to get his attention.

“Time for lunch, weirdo,” he says gruffly and turns to grab their bags while Izuku collects himself.

But when Kacchan returns he’s not holding their bags but a single bundle wrapped in cloth.

“We’re not going to the cafeteria?” Lunch Rush recently returned to serve lunch and dinner, much to the student body’s gratitude.

“Don’t need to,” Kacchan huffs, motioning his head for Izuku to get up and follow him.

They don’t go far. Kacchan sinks into a shaded spot on the edge of the tree line around the perimeter of the gym and opens the cloth to reveal a pair of bentos for the two of them.

Kacchan holds up a hand before he can scream. 

“I prepped the ingredients yesterday and made these when I told you to leave the kitchen so I could clean this morning,” Kacchan answers his unspoken question dryly. He shoves a bento into Izuku’s hands. “You’re welcome, and yes, I know I’m amazing or whatever. Now eat.”

Izuku complies happily.

He tries not to cry again when he sees that Kacchan made katsudon for his lunch. Some of the fear ebbs away when Kacchan snorts a laugh at his expression.

“Katsudon’s my favorite,” Izuku grins from ear to ear with every bite.

“I know that, nerd,” Kacchan grumbles.

“Did I ever tell you why?” He asks, though he already knows he’s never told Kacchan this.

He shakes his head.

Izuku swallows his bite and sighs up at the clear blue sky. 

It’s a beautiful day.

‘I hope we all get to enjoy it together,’ he remembers his mentor say and he immediately feels lighter.

Huh.

“Well?” Kacchan interrupts his thoughts. “You gonna fucking tell me or what?

Oh, right.

“My mom told me that when I was first learning to read I’d shout really loud if I saw a word I knew to practice. She said it was really embarrassing in public sometimes, but I was so excited every time she didn’t have it in her to stop me,” he explains happily to Kacchan.

“Of course,” the blond huffs a laugh.

Izuku laughs too. “Right? Well, I guess one day we went out to eat and I kept pointing at the one word I recognized on the menu. My poor mom had to sit there in a full restaurant with me yelling, ‘Katsuki! Katsuki!’ Over and over until she finally gave up trying to correct me and just ordered what I was pointing at, which was katsudon.” He feels his face start to warm, blushing now that he’s remembered just how embarrassing this story is. “And since then it’s always been my favorite.”

The silence after his story gets him to finally turn to look at Kacchan. The blond’s staring at him with wide starry eyes and his lips parted open in a look of silent awe.

Izuku has to look away, laughing awkwardly to cover up the quiet that’s settled between them. “It’s pretty stupid, huh?” 

“No,” Kacchan answers quietly. “I think…it’s nice.”

Izuku smiles a little into his next bite.

“You think so?”

Kacchan frowns at him, a little annoyed pout he’s gotten used to seeing directed at him. “I just said I did, nerd,” he deadpans. “Pay fucking attention.”

Wow. I really love him.

__________

Shoto’s heart is pounding when Bakugou texts him just as the sun starts to set.

bakugou: can’t stall anymore. be ready in 5. 

bakugou: or else

“They’re on their way!” He shouts over the noise, earning confirmation from those around him as they pass on the message. They barely made it in time, but he thinks they’re as ready as they’ll ever be all things considering. “Get in positions!”

He puts his cool hand over his heart, trying to calm down.

This has to go well.

“Yo! Todoroki, check it out!” He turns to the voice calling him.

Denki shoots him a thumbs up and a wink just as he uses his quirk to turn light all the lanterns and string lights hanging from the stalls all at once. From up above, Sero grins down as he secures the last line of streamers.

“Everything looks great from up here!” He calls down.

“Hell yeah, man!” A voice in the distance cheers, echoing over the wide distance. Todoroki can’t tell if it’s Tetsutetsu or Kirishima, but either way it lightens his mood 

Shoto shakes his head to himself, smiling a little as he rushes to finish one last thing before getting into places.

He has nothing to worry about.

__________

Izuku notices Kacchan start to grow restless as they pack up their things and lock up the classroom, his shoulders tense the same way they were briefly this morning. Except this time it doesn’t go away, even after the gym’s disappears down the path behind him. Izuku watches Kacchan carefully out of the corner of his eye, mind racing to figure out what’s changed so suddenly.

Maybe he’s just restless being inside so much today. Or maybe he got hungry while they were working.

Or maybe he knows something.

They’re just of the main quad when Izuku stops suddenly in the path. He can’t take not knowing. It’s bothering him too much.

“Something’s wrong,” he says seriously, “What is it, Kacchan?”

Kacchan turns slowly to face him, his face an expressionless mask as he drags his gaze up from his phone. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says dully.

Izuku frowns, crossing his arms. His voice grows heated fast the longer he looks at Kacchan’s impassable expression. “Don’t give me that crap, I know something’s up,” he insists, almost growling the words, “You’re acting weird.”

Kacchan eyes him up and down slowly, looking almost bored, then huffs a sigh.

“M’just tired,” he says with some bite, but it doesn’t make Izuku back down. “It’s been a long fucking day, ok? Just wanna go home and, I dunno, read a book and go to bed.”

He scowls deep and turns his back on Izuku, continuing their walk down the path. 

“Oi, you coming, nerd?” He calls over his shoulder. “Don’t wanna miss such an exciting end to the night, right?”

Izuku’s feet follow, but his head’s still stuck back where they were.

Exciting end? Was that supposed to be a jab or something? They usually just do exactly what Kacchan described, read and go to bed. Is he saying he’s bored of it or something?

Izuku frowns.

What just happened? Did he do something wrong?

He’s thinking so hard he doesn’t realize Kacchan’s stopped until he runs right into his back.

“Ah, sorry, Ka — “

The blond takes him roughly by the shoulders and shoves him forward, making him stumble for a few steps and fall to his knees.

“Hey! What the hell — !“

There’s a chorus of popping noises and a shower of colorful confetti over him —

“Surprise!” A large chorus of voices cheer, “Happy Birthday, Deku!”

And for the second time today, he’s stunned speechless.

From what he can see, it looks like the entire front lawn all the way down to the main gates is decorated with a maze of booths and food stalls, everything glittering with lights and lanterns and streamers of all different colors. Everyone — his mom, his friends, his classmates and teachers, and many more Izuku can’t see through the thick crowd — are smiling down at him, all gathered under a shimmering archway of icy that helps cools the humid summer air.

His mom leans down, smiling softly, and takes his hand in both of hers.

“Happy birthday, sweetie,” she says just as a single tear rolls down her cheek.

He’s about to speak when right before his eyes, the air shimmers in the distance and out of nowhere a ferris wheel materializes overhead. 

(Must be Hagakure, the analytical part of Izuku’s brain somehow notes, She bent the light to conceal them.)

He thinks he’d probably sit there gawking all night if not for Eri and Kota. Eri runs right up and wraps her little arms wrap around his shoulders. She presses a little kiss to his cheek, beaming ear to ear bigger than he’s ever seen her.

“Deku!” She laughs so happily it immediately brings tears to his eyes. Oh wow, hoe’d she get so big in just a few short months? “It’s your birthday! It’s your birthday!”

Next to her, Kota stands with his arms crossed, averting his eyes from the hug fest. Eri pulls him into the hug with her. Miraculously, he doesn’t put up a fight.

“Happy birthday,” he mumbles, clearly embarrassed.

Izuku finally finds his voice. “Thank you,” he hiccups, hugging them both closer. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

He scrubs his eyes of tears and straightens up just as their friends join in. Iida helps pull him to his feet, supporting him with an arm when he sways.

“Hope you like your summer festival!” Uraraka says and she hugs him tight. “The cotton candy’s colored green just for you!”

“Summer…festival…” Izuku chokes up at the glowing lights.

Iida pats him hard on the back. “We wanted to celebrate you! Our dear friend! After all you’ve done, this doesn’t even begin to show our appreciation and gratitude for your friendship!”

“Bakugou figured you might feel awkward if we put all the focus on you at a party or something, so he thought something we could all enjoy together like a festival would be perfect!” Kirishima throws an arm around him, punching his shoulder. “After he told us his idea, we all got a ton of people to help!”

Kacchan. The wiring in Izuku’s brain sparks.

He did all of this.

For him.

“Pretty much everyone,” Asui gently pats his hand. “We got kinda carried away.”

“The whole campus is here to celebrate. After all you did to save us last spring, they were more than happy to pitch in!” Kaminari grins.

“We love you, man, we’re so glad to know you!” Togata’s head pops up out of the ground to cheer.

He doesn’t know what to say.

A warm hand ruffles his hair, nothing but care in the touch. Izuku looks behind him at Kacchan, offering a wobbly smile that’s nothing compared to everything he wants to say but can’t quite yet.

Izuku throws his arms around his neck, burying his face against his collar bone. His heart feels too big for his chest, when he tries to breathe around it he gasps.

“Sorry about earlier,” Kacchan whispers against Izuku’s ear. “Didn’t want to ruin it.”

That’s impossible, he wants to say. You couldn’t ruin a thing.

You make everything better.

But he still can’t get his mouth to say any of that.

So he just keeps saying the only thing he can muster until he can pull himself together.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

________

Katsuki watches from the back of the pack as Izuku gets pulled along by their friends down the path into the festival, the nerd still blubbering and crying the whole way.

He snickers at the scene and follows behind, keeping a bit of distance to watch Izuku get pulled down the aisle of food stalls by Kirishima, who insists they get takoyaki before the stall runs out of the good toppings.

Katsuki grins after them.

“You really pulled it off,” Todoroki appears next to him and falls in step. He’s dressed in his usual prep style with the exception of the smiling All Might mask that sits lopsided on the side of his head. 

“I barely did anything,” he huffs under his breath. “You losers were here setting up all day in the fucking sun.”

“But you organizes it all and distracted Midoriya so we could all do our jobs, I’d hardly call that nothing,” Todoroki says plainly. He looks around him, almost like he’s taking in the whole scene for the very first time. “You really did all of this just for him.”

The slight smirk in Todoroki’s voice grates on Katsuki’s nerves but he lets it slide. It’s a special fucking day and they already made it this far without an incident.

He was cutting it really close back there with Izuku. The nerd started asking questions and he almost panicked and ruined everything. 

Figures he’d get fucking nervous at the eleventh hour.

Whatever, none of that matters now. They made it. Now, he can just let Izuku enjoy his night.

He stomps ahead of Todoroki, his paint splattered boots leaving deep indents in the dirt.

“Pick your damn feet up, asshole, we’re getting left behind!” He barks behind him.

Katsuki doesn’t see the proud smile on Todoroki’s face as he follows behind his friend.

Despite growing up in a neighborhood full of families, Katsuki had never really been to a festival. At least not since he was a little kid and got dragged around by his lovey-dovey parents. Yuck. 

The class naturally divides itself into groups depending on what people want to do. Katsuki and Todoroki, who don’t really give a fuck one way or the other, get passed along to whichever group lacks people, which means Katsuki ends up getting dragged into doing a lot of shit he normally never would.

He spends almost twenty minutes trying to win Koda a pair of goldfish from a fishing game. (Apparently fish are less depressed and more social if there are at least two in a tank. Who knew.)

After he hands them over, Katsuki finds out that for such a quiet and shy guy, Koda sure can scream when he wants to. He guesses it should have been obvious considering the guy’s quirk.

“You got really fired up back there,” Todoroki observes while they move in search of another stall. “I think you traumatized those fish.”

“Shut up the hell up,” Katsuki groans, shoulders slumped from the tense knot that formed from his concentration. Chasing down those stupid fish tired him out more than it should have. Fucking pathetic.

Whatever.

This arrangement of the groups also means he doesn’t see Izuku again until well into the night when all their groups finally meet up again. Katsuki’s stuck holding a comically large bear Kirishima shoved on him before running off to find a bathroom when Izuku’s group finally shows up.

He’s laughing at something someone said, practically glowing, his cheeks flushed a nice pink.

It’s embarrassing how easy it is for the nerd to take his breath away these days.

“Kacchan!!” Izuku’s eyes light up when he finally sees him and runs right up to him. “You’re here! And you have a bear!”

“It’s Kirishima’s,” he explains, frowning at the fluffy monstrosity. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Aw, but he’s cute,” Izuku whines, patting the bears big nose. Where did Kirishima even get this thing? “You sure we can’t take him home?”

He gives Katsuki a mischievous look that says he has a plan ready if need be. Katsuki’s heart does a fucking backflip. 

“One, that’s theft, which is a fucking crime, and two, how’s he supposed to fit in the fucking bed, dumbass?” Katsuki argues.

Izuku’s eyes light up. “Aw, you were thinking he’d stay in the bed too? What you want something to cuddle, Kacchan?” He teases with a sly smirk. 

This fucking guy.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think the nerd was doing this on purpose.

Either way, it is not fucking fair.

“Shut up,” Katsuki growls a non-answer. “Never fucking said that.”

“Too bad,” Izuku smiles, “I was hoping we’d make room for this guy.” 

He pivots around to reveal a black bunny with a white skeleton pattern in its fur hanging half out of the zipper of his backpack. 

“He’s cool right?” Izuku turns back and beams, holding his hands in excited fists in front of him. “I saw him while we were walking around and he reminded me of your favorite shirt! I won him on the first try too! The game was actually really interesting because…”

Katsuki swallows dry watching Izuku ramble on, the excitement in his green eyes shining with the lantern lights around them as well as their own inner brightness.

Can't believe I fucking love this nerd, he thinks with a sigh. It’s almost sad, his chest heavy with the weight of the thought and all the fear Katsuki doesn’t want to voice out loud.

What am I gonna do with you?

If you really do like me like I like you…then what comes after?

Just the thought paralyzes him. 

It feels too fragile a thing for him to hold.

“…Kacchan?” Izuku’s voice cuts through his thoughts. He snaps back into focus to see the boy cocking his head, looking up at him with a confused look. “You ok? I just asked you if you had anything left you wanted to see…”

Right. The festival.

He shakes his head. “Nah, not really, I—“ 

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He doesn’t need to check it to know it’s an alarm.

The plan. Gotta stick to the damn plan.

“Actually,” he rubs his neck, trying to cover up stumble. “Yeah, there is one thing.”

__________

“This was a great idea, Kacchan! We were so preoccupied with the games and food earlier I almost forgot about the ferris wheel!” Izuku’s practically bouncing up and down from excitement, gripping Katsuki’s hand like a vice. “Even after Uraraka told me she floated all the pieces here over the gate herself and helped with the assembly! She said she was glad she had such a good breakfast this morning before all that lifting!”

Izuku chatters away all the way through the line and into the pod that’ll take them around the wheel, only letting go to take their seats on opposite sides of the small car

Katsuki watches Izuku drum his fingers on his knees as the wheel rumbles to life and their pod stars to move. The nerd’s eyes are glue to the view, wide and adoring as they’re sent up into the sky.

He leans his elbow on the edge of the window and watches Izuku carefully. He can practically see the gears in his head whirring at full throttle.

“I see you thinking over there,” Katsuki breaks the silence.

Izuku doesn’t stumble like Katsuki expects. Instead, he gives a small smile, eyes downcast in an attempt to mask the blush across his cheeks with his bangs. 

“I was just thinking…” He says. “…That I feel really lucky.” He shrugs a shoulder, chuckling a little to himself. “All Might said something I’ve been thinking about lately, that he hoped we could all share a beautiful day together. He said we made it possible so we should get to enjoy it. I guess…I finally understand what he meant back then.”

His bright green eyes meet Katsuki’s finally, shining bright even in the dark. 

“Everyone I love is here,” he says, “And I just feel lucky to be here with everyone…like this. Most of all with you, Kacchan.”

Those words make the hair on Katsuki’s arms stand on end, like the air is humming with electricity, like the slightest touch could send spark a charge that’d send them both flying.

He never thought he’d ever hear Izuku say something like that. 

Him? Lucky to be around Katsuki? Get the fuck out of here.

“Izuku…” His mouth starts to say, but fails to finish.

After everything they’ve been through, Katsuki just doesn’t know what to say to that.

Which is weird because he should, right? He should be ready to hear this.

But all his bitter mind can think is that Izuku doesn’t know what he’s talking about, that the stupid nerd doesn’t know what’s good for him.

Somewhere in him he knows this back and forth is stupid. He’s known what he wants, it hasn’t changed. If anything that want has only grown the more he’s been allowed.

So why does it feel like his heart is trying to rip itself apart, to put itself out of its misery before both its greatest wish and worst fear come to fruition? Like the closer he gets to the thing he wants, the more he wants to burn it to ash before it has a  chance to trap him in its grasp.

Or like the thing he wants is what really burns the world down.

And there’s Izuku, bright and beautiful and good, caught in the crossfire.

Before he can stop it, his right hand lets off a rogue spark, white hot and frightening. He closes his fist around it in attempt to hide it, but it’s already too late, Izuku sees it.

Shit shit shit.

Godfuckingdamnit!

Really?! Now of all fucking times??

“Kacchan?” Izuku’s gaze whips up to look at him, eyes wide, thankfully more curious than worried.

Katsuki jerks his hand defensively to his chest, cursing himself for it as soon as he sees the look on Izuku’s face. There’s the fucking worry, that sincere concern that used to make his blood boil and now only heavies the weight in his chest. 

His palm stings with the stretch of a fresh blister, more tender than it should be after such a puny spark.

Fucking hell.

“S’nothing,” he says quickly. “Just — Fuck — Just forget about it.”

But Izuku tries to stand, wobbling the car just as it stops at the top of the wheel. 

“Y-your quirk!” Izuku insists, falling to his knees before Katsuki and taking his hand in both of his., caging it in by the rough skin. “Are…are you allowed to use it now? Is it ok? Does it hurt? Are — “

“I’m fine,” Katsuki cuts him off, voice rough against the lump stuck in his throat. Goddamnit, he is not fucking crying right now. “It’s fine. Aizawa’s been…trying to get me to use it again.”

Izuku looks at him wide-eyed. Katsuki hasn’t told him about any of his check-ups or that he hasn’t tried to use his quirk since the fight with All For One. 

“What? Since when?” Izuku knits his eyebrows in a look of stubborn concern, which means he won’t drop this until he knows everything and is sure Katsuki’s alright.

Why the hell did he have to fall for such a good-hearted idiot of a hero? 

“Since a few weeks ago,” Katsuki admits, mumbling it half out of pride and half out of embarrassment. He avoids meeting Izuku’s analyzing glare like the plague. “I get checked by the old lady and Aizawa basically every day…”

“You never told me…” Izuku’s voice goes quiet, clearly hurt and pissed at Katsuki’s confession. 

“I…didn’t wanna talk about it,” Katsuki snarls to himself. “Fucking nothing’s come out of it…Even with Aizawa hounding me about using my fucking quirk again so I can go back to training after vacation. Honestly…” He heaves a heavy sigh, finally saying out loud the worry that’s buried a hole deep in the back of his mind.

“…I don’t know if I can,” he finishes quietly, his voice breaking. He opens his palm for Izuku to see, the pink skin irritated but not burned. “It hasn’t shown up when I’ve tried before. Aizawa says it could be a mental block or some shit. Even now it…”

It scared me.

Izuku runs his thumb over the lines of his palm wordlessly for a long while, processing everything Katsuki just said. Then the crease between his brows disappears as his eyes soften and he presses a lingering kiss right in the center of his palm.

When Katsuki tries to rip his hand away, panicked, Izuku holds fast, closing his eyes as he presses closer to the warm skin. He holds Katsuki’s hand to his cheek like something precious. He breathes deep. The image is so serene.

“Thank you for telling me, Kacchan,” he finally speaks. There’s no anger in it, just relief. His eyes open and when they meet Katsuki’s there’s nothing but warmth. 

“Whatever’s wrong, we can figure it out. I believe in you.” 

Boom.

Fireworks go off in the distance, lighting the sky around them in a brilliant flash of red that fades to gold to white then darkness.

We.

That word more than anything cuts him the deepest.

He pulls Izuku up onto the bench hugs him to his chest, hand in his hair as the fireworks go off around them. 

“Wow,” he hears him breathe over his shoulder as bright green lightning lights up the sky.

I’m trying to be better for you, Katsuki thinks it like a promise.

Wait for me, ok?

__________

He’s never said it, but Izuku’s always hated his birthday. Growing up quirkless and friendless, it only ever served as a reminder of what he didn’t get to have. It used to feel so unfair. To be born with so little and expected to sit idly and accept it his whole life. 

He knew if he ever bought into that idea, he’d never pull himself up again, so he chased after everything he wanted no matter the cost or consequence.

So maybe that’s why today, his seventeenth birthday, feels so emotional. It’s like a reminder him of everything he has, everyone and every little thing he treasures in this great big world that he fought for with sweat and blood. 

He’s earned this life and now he gets to live it.

It hits him all at once when All Might claps him on the shoulder when he blows out the candles on his cake back at the dorm. 

“Young man,” the old hero grins down at him as his mom cuts the cake, “Of all the great heroes I’ve had the pleasure of standing by in all my years, I am proudest to be here by your side on this day.” 

He hugs his mentor tight, crying his name over and over while he chuckles, patting Izuku’s hair with his large hand. 

“Christ, you’ve been crying since this morning,” Kacchan grumbles when he finally lets All Might go. A piece of cake gets shoved into his hands and he’s pushed gently to a spot on the couch between Eri and his mom. “Sit here and eat, I’m getting your dehydrated ass some fucking water.”

He stomps off to the kitchen, barking to ask where the damn cups went when he just bought a whole pack less than a day ago.

Izuku smiles after him. It feels like it’s a permanent fixture on his face from how much he’s been grinning all day.

“Deku,” Eri yawns tiredly, still smiling despite the sleepy slow blink of her big red eyes. “Did you have a good birthday?” She nuzzles her head against his shoulder and hugs her little arms around his bicep. 

He pats her head, but he’s look at his mom when he beams. 

“I had the best birthday today.” 

And then his mom’s smile goes wobbly and it’s really hopeless to keep from crying again as they hug each other tight. Combined, they could probably cry a river. 

“Are you fucking serious…The damn carpet’s soaked…” He hears Kacchan grumble from behind the couch.

He doesn’t stop smiling the whole night. Even when his head finally hits the pillow.

__________

He knows this is a memory.

They’re younger, but not together. It’s their first year of middle school and everything feels both perfectly right and terribly wrong.

Right because he feels like a king.

Wrong because no matter where he goes, he feels eyes on his back, following his every move. A usurper to the throne just waiting for him to slip up.

Once, that’s all it takes.

Next thing he knows his throat’s slit and he’s on the floor, bleeding out while a cheshire grin hangs above him proven right in the knowledge that he had nothing to offer but theatrics and empty promises. All bark, no bite.  

No. 

He can’t fucking relax as long as Deku’s behind him. And he’s always fucking behind him.

Katsuki hates that green eyed stare more than anything. He hates the depth of those eyes, hates he can’t read this fucking nerd the way he’s trained himself to read every other no-name extra in their fucking no-name school. 

Most of all, he hates that under Deku’s unreadable gaze, he feels small.

Fucking Deku of all people should not have that kind of damn power over him. Not over his dead body. 

So Katsuki fights back. So he lashes out like the nerd’s every breath is a personal offense to him. 

He decides it’s a game between them, one he believes—or convinces himself—Deku started.

To see who will break first.

He’s passing just outside the school gates when he sees the familiar shock green hair standing idly at the corner, fussing over whatever nerd shit on his phone that made him stop in the middle of the goddamn sidewalk.

Katsuki flexes his fist as he approaches, clawing at the heat he calls to the center of his palm. He’s just going to pop a couple sparks by Deku’s ear as he passed, scare him a little for blocking the path. No doubt the nerd’ll jump out of his fucking pants and stutter out some weak ass apology Katsuki won’t stay to hear the end of.

That’s what he plans to happen.

But when he passes by Deku’s ear, the explosion that goes off in his hand is big enough to send them both flying. It doesn’t just come from his palm.

It’s everywhere.

And he knows this isn’t just a memory anymore.

He’s flying through the air and his body feels like it’s made of pure energy, all white hot light and searing heat that makes the world pass around him in slow, soundless waves. 

His hearing is shot but he can still hear a sinister voice echoing like its right up against his ear, the words rough as gravel.

He can’t tell if it’s his own or someone else’s.

You’re nothing, it says as he feels his body disintegrate to nothing. 

There’s a burn that starts at the center of his chest that blooms outward, like a cigarette burn that never puts itself out the further it presses into him.

You’ll always live in his shadow. 

Why try?

Your ideals, your dreams mean nothing.

How can you ever hope to measure up?

All you can do is hurt him.

He is everything, every hope and dream realized.

And you are nothing.

A part of his soul quiets at the words.

He thinks he can live with that. 

It’s when a cool hand finds him, when it meets his burning skin, saps away the heat and makes it its own, that Katsuki finally starts to scream.

This time when the nightmare ends he doesn’t jerk awake in a cold, blind panic. This time he fights to open his eyes in what feels like a long internal battle between conscious and unconsciousness until finally he blinks his eyes open to find the room pitch dark.

There’s a hot trail of tears running down the sides of his face and into his hair. He doesn’t know how long he’s been crying but they don’t stop.

He takes a shaky breath, as quiet as he can, but when he lets it go, it comes out as a broken sob.

“Kacchan?” Izuku startles next to him, wide awake and immediately alert. 

He’s such a light sleeper. When the idiot even goes to sleep, he’d probably think if he had his mind right now. But all he can think of is blind heat and endless quiet, the vastness of being nothing, not even a ghost of a memory.

If he is nothing, then nothingness is a deep well of ache and absence where light should be.

Izuku is full of light. 

“Kacchan, I’m here,” he says as he comes into sight above him. A cool hand brushes his burning cheek, focusing him only on Izuku’s touch and the deep viridian green of his eyes. “It’s ok now, I’m right here.” 

He’s gasping now, wordless and weak. Izuku, all too used to this dance they do nightly, gently tugs Katsuki up to sit so he doesn’t fucking drown in a himself, cooing soft encouragements all the while as he winds his hands into Katsuki’s hair and soothes his head against his steady shoulder. 

Katsuki’s pliant under Izuku’s careful touch. How can he not be. Every night he wakes up broken and every night Izuku stitches him back together again. 

With so much care in each touch, how can Katsuki not trust it, give himself over to it every time?

Izuku’s space is the only place Katsuki really feels his heart go quiet. 

It makes him sick to his stomach every time.

What did he fucking do to deserve this? 

He chokes out a violent sob and Izuku responds by gentle scratching the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I’ve got you,” he promises. “You’re ok. Everything’s alright.” 

Katsuki shakes his head furiously, trying to shake him off. How can it be ok?

It’s been a week since Izuku’s birthday and all he can see in those bottomless eyes of his is something Katsuki’s can’t read that scares him shitless. Every time those eyes find him he can’t help but remember when those same eyes made his blood boil with rage.

All those times it drove him mad, mad enough to seek blood.

And now here he is enjoying Izuku’s company, letting him fawn and worry over him like Katsuki’s ever deserved a second of his attention.

How can Izuku look at him and not feel used? Not feel ashamed? 

It’s not getting better. Nothing he does will ever come close to enough.

They can’t go on like this.

He can’t do this. 

“Kacchan,” Izuku chases after Katsuki’s frail attempt to retreat, eyes sparked with hurt and worry and confusion he can’t wish away. He reaches for Katsuki’s hand and he just can’t let himself have that. Not now.

He jerks away from Izuku like it burns him.

“No, don’t — “ He swallows, still gasping like a dying fish. He feels so small and yet the space is suffocating him. 

Izuku holds his hands out the way you would to a wounded, feral animal. 

“Kacchan, it’s — “

“Stop!” His voice rips out of him, startling them both. It’s enough to make Izuku falter. “Just — fuck — Just stop! I can’t…I can’t. I can’t.” 

Sick with the burning shame in his gut, he double over and curls into himself as his palms go off, exploding against his body to conceal the small blasts. It’s all pain but he’s numb as if it’s not his own.

No. Not again.

Selfishly, he wishes anyone but Izuku were in front of him, if anyone but this boy cared for him. In a twisted way, it would make this all easier. It would be easy to allow himself to ruin someone else. 

He can’t do this to him.

Let it be another damn hero. He’d gladly take any bastard down with him. He'll promise a fall from grace rivaling any fucking fallen star. He doesn’t care if that's selfish or if it makes him more villain than hero. If it meant sparing the one innocent, he’d do it. And happily.

Anyone.

But not Izuku. 

Please. 

Anyone but him.

Chapter Text

The knock on her door is loud and hurried so Ochako rushes to answer it. It must be urgent from the sound of it. It’s not that late in the evening and she only just got back to her room from dinner. She thinks maybe it’s Yaomomo letting her know she’s brewing a new tea or maybe Mina with the manga she wanted to borrow from her.

But when she opens the door, it’s Deku standing there in his socked feet. His hair’s a mess — well, more of one — and it looks like he’s barely slept from the tired darkness under his eyes. The buttons on his shirt all twisted up like he dressed in a hurry this morning.

Huh, now that she thinks about it, she hasn’t seen Deku all day today. He’s normally one of the first ones up and about with Bakugou, so it didn’t seem odd, but he’s not usually one to skip out on dinner. 

Whatever that means, it can’t be good.

Because here he is now, breathing hard and holding up a notebook with a wild look in his eyes.

“I figured it out,” he pants.

Oh.

Of course this is how he tells her.

“Really, Deku? A notebook?” She sighs. Typical. Well it wasn’t how she hoped he’d get there, but at this point she’s not going to be picky. “Come in. Tell me all about it. And don’t spare the details.”

Deku nods once and actually gives her a flustered bow before stepping past her to get inside. Wow, he’s really wound up. 

Mercifully, he waits until she takes a seat on the edge of her bed before going off, pacing back and forth while his mouth talks a mile a minute. 

“Ok, so I know it sounds really dumb and I know what you’re going to say but I really didn’t know what you meant until my birthday when Kacchan — Well, actually it doesn’t matter! What does is that I get now! It’s like it all just hit me at once that I’m completely in love with him and I literally can’t stop thinking about it now!! It’s like everything he does just — Augh!! It’s driving me crazy and I want to tell him because I know he’s been waiting and I think he might feel the same way — Well, I mean, I don’t know, maybe he might not, maybe he just wanted me to figure it out so we can move on and be friends but I don’t think friends kiss or hold hands and sleep in the same bed like we do and I mean — Augh, fuck! Nevermind! I don’t care about that! I just really wanna tell him how I feel but he’s been so stressed lately about his quirk training and we’re so busy with this summer project there hasn’t been a good time yet and I felt ok about that until last night when he, like, freaked the fuck out and Aizawa had to take him to the recovery ward where he was knocked out all day! And then when he woke up the second he saw me he started freaking out again so I had to go and now I’m really freaking out because I don’t know what to do what if he hates me please I need your help!!” He gasps hard at the end of the long string of words, red in the face with shoulders heaving. After a second he remembers himself and straightens his posture, clasping his hands politely in front of him.

“Sorry, that was a lot,” he squeaks in a small voice.

Ochako blinks at him. 

Ok, she thinks. Let’s take this thing one at a time. Important stuff first.

She hops up on her feet and shakes him by the shoulders, hard. “Deku! You kissed him???”

“Uh, yeah,” he reddens, shrinking back.

Why is this the first time she’s hearing about this?? She could strangle him right now!

“Like once?? Or like a couple times??”

“Like a lot of times!!” He buries his face in his hands. “Ah! Is that bad??”

Oh my fucking god. 

“Deku!!” She shouts in his face. “You can’t be serious! How do you still not see it when it’s right there in front of your stupid, adorable face!”

“What! I figured out I like him like you told me!!” He whines.

Ochako groans, slapping her palm to her forehead. This boy is so hopeless. How is it he can save the country and effectively the world from the greatest evil known to man and still be this clueless? 

“And I’m happy for you, Deku, I really am,” she sits back down, tired. “But that’s, like, half of what I meant when I told you you needed to figure this out on your own.”

He tilts his head at her, clearly confused.

She sighs again. “I’ll just tell you.” She crosses her arms and fixes him with a look that says this is serious and he needs to listen. He stands in the middle of the room, ready to hang onto her every word.

“I don’t think you realize that all summer, you’ve already been basically dating Bakugou,” she says frankly. 

Ochako doesn’t know what she expects to happen when she finally says it — maybe for him to freak out again and ramble off a million excuses why that can’t be true — but she doesn’t expect him to just stand there, blank-faced with his mouth hanging open for flies to fly in.

Maybe his brain short circuited, she wonders. 

She waits until his eyes finally blink and he shakes his head of whatever fog blocked him out for a second there. 

“What???” Deku yelps so loud it almost shakes the walls.

There we go. That’s more like the Deku she knows.

“W-what do you mean?? That can’t — I mean, I — We’re not — I’d know if — I mean, we can’t be — I…Oh wow…Oh holy shit wow…“ Deku sputters until he runs out of words to argue. He deflates until he’s crouched down on the wood floor, head in his hands as it finally hits him. 

She watches him turn to a puddle for a few seconds before deciding this is too much for just one person to handle.

Ok, yeah, let’s take this slow. Maybe slower than slow.

“Gimme one sec” she holds up her pointer finger and fishes her phone out from her nightstand with the other. “I’m calling reinforcements.”

She’s going to need help with this one.

________

Ok, to be frank, Denki doesn’t know a goddamn thing about real life romance or being in a relationship.

But he’d consider himself an expert in being witness to then subsequently judging romantic relationships from the outside — Like, come on with all the reality TV he’s basically earned a degree on the subject — so he thinks he’s more than ready to take on whatever this is.

He’s so giddy he barely gives a fuck his nervous system feels like it’s about to short circuit from the amount of anxiety that courses through his body every time he thinks about Bakugou — his crazy strong, crazy broken friend — and this back-and-forth thing he has with Midoriya where the universe seems intent on not taking it easy on either of them. 

Other than that, he’s just peachy. 

And apparently he’s not the only one considering like half of their class is here, crammed into every available space in Uraraka’s dorm room. Besides him, Kirishima, Todoroki, Ashido, Sero, Jirou, Iida, Aoyama, and Asui are here, all buzzing with the same anticipation Denki feels. Uraraka’s text was vague, but clear. Whatever this is needs their full attention.

Denki rubs his hands together and static crinkles between his palms.

“Ok. Take it from the top, we’re ready,” Uraraka points to Midoriya, who’s sat before the group in the chair from her desk. He’s so red in the face it’s like Christmas came early.

He takes a deep breath and tells them everything in all it’s flustered, lovesick rambling glory. Denki thinks he sees Kirishima’s lip wobble with the threat of tears when Midoriya finally says out loud that he loves Bakugou.

(Totally called it, by the way. Denki’s not much of a reader but of all the books he’s read, Midoriya has to be the easiest. No doubt about that.)

When Midoriya finishes telling them everything, finishing with a deeply tired sigh, every hand shoots up into the air.

The Q&A is a little less than rapid fire.

“One at a time,” Uraraka says nonchalantly with her arms crossed. Oh yeah, she’s enjoying this. “You first, Mina.” 

“So you guys kissed besides the truth or dare game?”

“Why is that — ” Midoriya gives up and just sighs before answering with a quiet, “Yes…” 

(Half the room pumps their fists in a quiet, shameless ‘Yes!’ 

Sero and Todoroki actually high five, the peak definition of unashamed.)

“Tsu, you next.”

“Midoriya, you really didn’t notice you two are kind of dating already?”

If possible, Midoriya reddens more. 

“I mean-uh, I don’t — Well, you see — “

“No, he didn’t. At all.” Uraraka finishes.

“That’s not fair! How could I — Ugh! We’ve never even been on a date!!” Midoriya tries to defend himself, waving his arms in embarrassment.

“Depends on what you consider a date, mon ami,” Aoyama points out. Denki guesses they’re just giving up on the raising hands thing and puts his down. 

“I-I don’t kno — “

“Watching an All Might doc and holding hands is a date,” Uraraka immediately cuts in.

“Oh! Also making breakfast and spending the day gardening,” Denki shoots his hand right back up like the star student he’s never once been.

“Don’t forget scrapbooking your adorable childhood memories before dinner with each other’s parents!” Ashido adds on.

“Reading books together on the lawn too,” Jirou says.

“A sleepover can be a date,” Asui croaks.

“I believe in certain contexts hitting the gym together could also be considered an adequate date!” Iida chops the air.

“Sneaking up to the roof to glimpse the sparkling beauty of the stars above!” Aoyama adds with a flourish.

“And I’m pretty sure surprising you with a personal private studio he cleaned out himself, sharing homemade bentos of your favorite food, and surprising you with a whole festival with all your friends and family ending with a killer fireworks show at the top of a ferris wheel is the definition of an A-plus date!” Kirishima pumps his fist. 

“It’s ok, I don’t think Bakugou realizes it either,” Todoroki says plainly as Midoriya deflates in his chair.

“You guuuys,” he groans, head thrown over the back of the chair in despair. “What am I supposed to do now??”

Poor guy. Denki would almost feel bad for him if this wasn’t the single most interesting thing to happen this summer. 

“Dude, isn’t that what that notebook’s for? You said you wanted to tell him, right?“ Denki points. That was one thing Uraraka mentioned in her text. In classic Midoriya fashion, the guy’d filled an entire book with notes cataloguing every event of the past few months into a timeline that tracked the growth of his feelings. No wonder Midoriya was so close to the top of their class. Dude’s brain lives to analyze.

“I did…” Midoriya sighs, sitting back up with a frown. “But after last night and today, I…I’m not sure…Kacchan acted really strange. I’m worried it’s not the right time...” 

He looks down at the notebook in his lap and his face crumples.

“I want to trust he’ll tell me when he’s ready and I don’t want to push him, but…I just have a bad feeling something’s wrong and I want to fix it. But if he doesn’t want to see me or talk about it then…I don’t know.”

They all sit in that for a second, not knowing what to say to ease the worried look in Midoriya’s eyes. 

Then Todoroki breaks the silence.

“Midoriya,” he says, giving his friend a leveled gaze and drawing him in to focus on his next words. “I think you should consider what would happen if your roles were reversed. If it was you going through something difficult instead…”

Midoriya’s eyes widen slightly as Todoroki talks.

Denki realizes a second later where this is going.

Wow, thank god Todoroki’s here or we’d be on this all night, he thinks.

“What do you think Bakugou would do about it?” Todoroki says, laying it all on the table. “Do you think he’d just sit and wait?”

Midoriya’s already on his feet and zipping out the door in a flash of bright green.

“You’re right I have to talk to him thank you guys bye!”

“Go get him, man!!” Kirishima calls after him while they all whoop and holler, no doubt disturbing the whole girls floor but whatever, they’ll be forgiven when they finally share the news with everyone.

Kirishima tugs him to his feet, a look passing between them that he knows means they’re not done just yet.

It makes him think of every time the past week he’s caught Bakugou looking at Midoriya, the most pained expression flashing on his face before covering it up.

He thinks of the way he’s seen Bakugou drag his feet like the heaviness of his body is too much for him to carry some days.

Sometimes he sees him clutch his chest and catch his breath, still as a statue, like he’s checking if his heart is really beating. Once he watched Bakugou’s eyes flutter and pass out right at the dinner table while no one was looking. Denki almost bolted out of his seat, shaking Kirishima to attention, but just as the redhead turned Bakugou shook himself awake and pretended like nothing happened. Not even Midoriya saw, that’s how quick it happened.

A lot of people have opinions about the kind of guy Bakugou is, but whatever anyone believes, he doesn’t think there’s anyone who believes Bakugou’s deserved every ounce of shit he’s gotten the past year.

Being humiliated on national TV…getting kidnapped by the villains targeting him…Nearly losing his life…Twice. It’d be too much for any seasoned pro, much less a seventeen year old kid who didn’t ask for any of it. 

Much less one of his best friends.

If he can have just one good thing happen to him this year, please let it be Midoriya, Denki finds himself hoping.

Please let this be the end of whatever bad streak he’s on.

__________

Monoma would be the first to admit he’s never cared much for Katsuki Bakugou. Or any of those self-obsessed Class A assholes for that matter. 

(Except maybe the redhead. Kirishima. Tetsutetsu seems to think he’s a good guy and even though that metalhead’s a total idiot, Monoma admits he’s a good judge of character.) 

Anyway, yeah, he doesn’t like Bakugou. He doesn’t like anyone so cocky and rude they regularly blow out their own ear drums with their self-centered barking. His speech at the sports festival alone was enough to make Monoma write off the guy forever as an asshole he’d never get along with or want to get to know.

At least, that’s what he thought. 

But even he’s not prideful — or heartless, mind the word choice — enough to deny that what Bakugou did in the war was more than incredible. 

It made Monoma reconsider any time he ever looked at Bakugou and saw anything but what he clearly was: 

A hero.

He knows he’ll remember the sight of him flying across the battlefield for the rest of his life. Remember the death grip of Aizawa’s hand in his and the violent fire in his core that screamed at him to keep from blinking despite the sting in his eyes.

He’ll remember hanging onto Shinsou like a blubbering baby when they all got the news he really survived the worst of it and was finally awake.

(Yeah, Monoma’s never gonna live that one down.)

But whatever. He doesn’t have to like Bakugou to respect the hell out of him. They don’t have to be Bakugou’s friend for Monoma to know he’d trust him to have his back in the field. That’s what he decided. 

So when Aizawa asked him to be on standby to help Bakugou test his quirk, Monoma agreed without making any fuss about it.

So for the last week he’s shown up just to not be needed. 

It’s the same routine. He arrives to Bakugou and Midoriya flirting or whatever before the teachers arrive. Then Recovery Girl checks Bakugou, tests his balance and heart rate and whatever else they’re tracking that’s wrong with him, then once given the go ahead Aizawa walks him through a seemingly endless number of drills for Bakugou to practice his quirk. So far he’s managed a few sparks here and there with the occasional blast, but otherwise, Monoma’s starting to think his presence is more or less useless. 

And though Bakugou gets increasingly frustrated every time his quirk fails him, he’s seemed a lot…tamer ever since the war. The hair trigger that used to set him off before seems to never fire anymore, at least not as explosively as he’s used to seeing it. 

It’s almost disturbing how quiet the guy is these days, especially before these training sessions.

More than anything, it’s unsettling when he sees the familiar fury build up in the rogue blond only to…be dispersed to nothing with an even breath. No explosion, no backlash, no casualties.

The first time he made an off-handed comment about Bakugou’s changed demeanor—something he doesn’t totally recall about him acting like a muzzled beast these days—he expected the guy to rise to the bait with at least a snarled response.

But to his surprise, it was Midoriya who reacted with a sharp glare and the start of a comeback that Bakugou stopped him with a passive hand.

It was like he’d stepped into an alternate universe for a moment.

Another day, Monoma finally made a sincere comment about the quiet being unsettling.

“What? Isn’t that what everyone fucking wanted? For me to shut up and chill the fuck out?“ Bakugou huffed in his rough voice before walking off. Midoriya gave him the stink eye over his shoulder until Bakugou elbowed him to stop. 

And that just made Monoma feel weirder. 

He’s actually been thinking about it a lot today. Maybe because they didn’t meet this morning. Something about Bakugou’s health and him needing a rest day from the training.

In the privacy of his dorm room, he finds himself hoping that, at the very least, Bakugou’s doing ok. 

________

Eijirou worries. He can’t help it. After everything his pals have gone through lately, he wouldn’t be a good friend if he didn’t worry at least a little bit. So when he gets that sinking feeling after Midoriya leaves the dorm, he knows he needs to go after them to check it out, not because he doesn’t trust his friends to work it out themselves but because if he wants to be a man his friends can depend on, he has to show up for them when they need him.

Even when they don’t ask for it.

(And let’s be real, there’s no way either of those guys would even think about asking for it.)

That’s what he tells himself as he and Kaminari, who let’s face it is just as worried, sprint toward Recovery Girl’s office at top speed. They don’t see any sign of Midoriya anywhere, which makes sense given how stupid fast that guy is when he activates Full Cowling.

“Where…is he? Did…he…somehow get…faster??” Kaminari pants between words, struggling to keep pace. “Shit…Kiri…shima…you’re right. I need to…work out…more…Fuck!” 

Eijirou himself huffs a tired breath, his own lungs burning. “Come on, man,” he gets out, pulling on Kaminari’s shirt sleeve to get him to go faster. “We’re almost — “

They’re just short of the door when an ear piercing explosion stops them in their tracks. It sounds far away, but Eijirou can’t tell what direction.

“What the hell was that??” Kaminari shouts, panic all over his face.

It’s followed by another crack of thunder. A thick cloud of sparks and smoke appears overhead around where the training grounds should be.

Kirishima yanks Kaminari by the sleeve of his shirt.

They need to move.

________

When Izuku got to the recovery ward, Kacchan’s bed was empty. Upon a quick inspection, he found the sheets were still warm, which meant he hadn’t been gone long. Izuku still had Kacchan’s keys in his pocket. There was a chance he’s go to his parents’ place but that seemed unlikely at this time of night. 

He probably wouldn’t answer even if Izuku called so that wasn’t an option. 

Considering all that, he had a good idea of where Kacchan might go.

He’s out the window and swinging on Black Whip as fast as he can toward the main gym, propelling himself at top speed hoping his hunch is correct.

He touches down on the grass and immediately breaks into a sprint for the empty classroom, not stopping until his hand finds the knob of the door. The blood roars in his ears as the door swings in and he finds Kacchan stood in the middle of the floor before the huge canvas.

It’s just how they left it the other day, the half-sketched beginnings of the painting they argued for days over before finally deciding on the composition and subject. 

Two figures silhouetted against an even darker sky, flying hand in hand over a field of green.

Izuku saw angels. Kacchan saw ghosts. 

Kacchan looks up at the red stained canvas, shoulders tense and tired, still in the t-shirt he went to bed in last night. It’s one of Izuku’s, he realizes with a pained thump of his heart against the wall of his ribs. 

“Kacchan,” Izuku breathes hard from the door. He watches Kacchan flinch at the sound of his voice and it nearly tears him apart. “Kacchan, I’m here.” 

He watches the blond’s shoulder rise and fall, counting them as the silence stretches on.

On the fifth exhale, Kacchan says in a rough rasp, “Go home, Izuku.”

How can I? He thinks. When you’re here hurting?

How can I ever go home without you there? 

He shakes his head. “No. I can’t do that, Kacchan.” He gulps against the heavy lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

Kacchan sighs, deep and tired. “Don’t fucking apologize if you’re just gonna do what you want, asshole.”

Izuku almost laughs, remembering when Kacchan said that exact thing to him in the hospital. He was so giddy then and didn’t know why. Now he does.

“Ok, then fuck off,” he says, aiming to keep it light but choking up on the tail end, betraying the anxious tremor working its way up his chest. “That’s what you told me to say instead, right?”

Kacchan chuckles darkly. Izuku wishes he could see his face, but then again he doesn’t know if he could take it right now. 

“Hell yeah, I did,” Kacchan says and he almost sounds like himself until his head bows and a growl rips through his throat, frustrated. He shakes his head. “I can’t do this with you.” 

‘I can’t, I can’t.’ That’s all Kacchan could say last night after he pushed him away. 

Izuku still feels the stabbing pain in his chest he felt in the moment, like his lungs had just been ripped straight out of his body.

The space between them. It felt gaping. Having Kacchan just out of his reach…Izuku doesn’t remember it ever hurting this much.

Did it always make him feel so helpless?

He’s gotten too used to keeping Kacchan close this summer. Maybe that’s his fault for growing so attacked. Maybe it’s Kacchan’s for allowing it to go so far. 

There’s no going back.

He can’t.

“You keep saying that, but I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Izuku forces his voice to come out stronger than he feels. “Kacchan…Will you just look at me? Please?” 

He doesn’t care how desperate he sounds. His voice rips out of him like it’s trying to physically reach the blond from his place across the room.

Kacchan hangs his head, his shoulders rise and his hands clench into white knuckled fists at his sides. It’s like he’s fighting himself not to turn toward Izuku.

For the first time in his life, Izuku watches Kacchan put up a fight and prays that he loses.

_________

Katsuki wonders if Izuku knows how much it tortures him to be here like this with him. The way his heart screams when they’re apart like this, close enough to hope to be closer but far enough the distance feels unbearable, it makes him feel like he’s wrangling in a rogue train engine. One that’s on its last legs and begging to be put out of its misery.

He might just have a heart attack here in the middle of the classroom. 

He wonders if Izuku realizes the power he has over Katsuki.

Probably not. Izuku’s never fully understood his own strength, even before he became the wielder of the greatest power on the planet. 

The pleading break in Izuku’s voice just about shatters him.

“Kacchan, please,” he begs. What Katsuki would give to see his face, to ease away whatever pain he finds in those familiar features. But he knows he can’t. If he does, there’s no running away. 

“I need you to look at me…”

If he does, then he’s doomed them both. 

He shuts his eyes against the sting behind them. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” he gets out through grit teeth.

Behind him, Izuku laughs humorlessly, it’s a dark and hurt and Katsuki hates hearing it coming out of him. The door shuts with a slam followed by a loud crash, like Izuku’s thrown a tantrum and punched the wall.

“I’m so fucking sick of hearing you say that,” Izuku rasps. And then a rough hand has Katsuki by the arm and yanks him so hard he can’t fight the  momentum and he’s spun around, meeting a fierce green glare. “Look at me. Now, Katsuki.” he commands in a voice that shakes the room. 

A chill runs up his back hearing his given name. He feels like a kid getting scolded. He can’t do anything but obey. 

Katsuki’s seen this look in his eyes before. It’s a rare look on Izuku, all blind anger and a determined ferocity that makes any villain’s blood run cold. 

He’s terrifying. 

And Katsuki thinks he’s beautiful. 

He’s trapped under Izuku’s gaze, his grip on him tight. 

And like any trapped animal, Katsuki’s body reacts to save himself, moving before his mind can catch up to stop him.

__________

Kacchan goes off like a bomb in his hands. 

(Later when he plays it back in his head, he’ll understand what happened. How Kacchan fired off hyper condensed blasts from his legs to propel himself up to the ceiling with minimal damage then touchdown and run along the tables and blast out the window. 

Later he’ll find out Kacchan didn’t mean for it to happen.)

In the moment, he’s pissed off beyond belief. 

There’s a flash of heat and smoke that leaves his skin singed and his eyes watery and Kacchan’s gone in a blink. 

In the choice between fight or flight, he’s never seen Kacchan choose the latter before. It makes his reaction time slower than it should.

He’s even faster, Izuku thinks, amazed despite the rage burning his gut. He activates One For All and zips out into the night after him.

You’re not getting away from me that easy, he thinks as he feels the cool night on his skin.

Not again.

The second his feet hit the ground, he activates Float and shoots up into the air as electricity crackles all along his skin, a hum against his bones he hasn’t felt in ages. He hones in on Kacchan. He isn’t flying by letting off continuous explosions like before, but what looks like one continuous condensed explosion powered through his arms. It looks like his entire being is emanating light from just under the surface of his skin, blasting him through the air like a shooting star, a living explosion given form. Izuku pushes himself forward, willing himself to go faster. 

The chase takes them over the tree line toward the training ground they first fought when they arrive at UA. 

Why are you running? 

I’m right here.

You’re not a damn coward. So face me. 

Please.

Izuku screams his name like a cry of war. 

“Kacchan!!” 

Izuku watches Kacchan’s body, burning bright white, blast ahead of him, zigzagging to evade his pursuer. It’s like watching a lagging video, seeing him disappear from one spot then reappear in another.

He’s incredible. 

It’s the single thought in his mind as he aims Black Whip and fires, swinging the dark tendrils in a wide arc that just barely manage to capture Kacchan by the ankle. 

He screams as he pulls the dark string and propels his body at top speed right into Kacchan.

When they crash into each other, it’s in a clap of thunder and heat and smoke and the breathless feeling of falling through nothing but air.

__________

Katsuki’s mind is a blind panic as they free fall through the air. Even as the wind rushes up past them, he’s still trying to break out of Izuku’s grasp, pushing and kicking the feral nerd with all he’s got. His body feels searing hot from the dying spark of his quirk and he silently prays the heat is in his mind and he’s not burning Izuku.

Izuku bares his teeth with wild eyes, clawing for Katsuki while his hair whips around his face. 

Where’d you learn to look so scary, huh? He thinks somewhere in his mind.

Then with a broken cry there’s a shock of electricity up his arm and a sudden blast of force shoots them toward the ground in less than a blink, ending their fight in an instant. Katsuki’s back makes impact with a loud crunch and when his vision clears, he finds himself pinned in the middle of a deep crater. 

Damn. The bastard used Air Force to blast us downward so he could pin me, he thinks. 

“I…got you,” Izuku pants above him, struggling to catch his breath. He has a knee pressed into the center of Katsuki’s chest and both hands pinning both of Katsuki’s. “Nowhere to run.” 

He huffs a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, you fucking got me,” his voice comes out gruff and hoarse from lack of use. “Now let me go, Izuku.” 

His heart screams out in protest. 

The grip around his wrists tightens at his words and Izuku’s glare sharpens. 

“No!” He yells, “No more running, no more pushing me away!” Even in the dark his eyes glow with the familiar shine of tears. “Just tell me what’s wrong, Kacchan! I-I don’t care what it is, I can take it! Hit me, scream, anything you have to, just…Just talk to me.” 

Katsuki winces at that. How many times has he said those exact words to Izuku now? 

He can see the anger seep out of Izuku in real time, can see it slowly recede as grief takes its place. 

Izuku’s voice trembles out of him. “I’m right here, Kacchan, so please just tell me what’s wrong. E-even if…even if you think it’ll hurt me, .” His head dips wearily, concealing his eyes from Katsuki’s view so all he sees is the first tear fall from Izuku’s chin onto his t-shirt. “I…I know this hasn’t been fair. You’ve done so much for me and I’ve just…wasted our time. I’m sorry, Kacchan, I’m so sorry…I understand if…if I missed my chance. I just want you to say it so we can — “

Katsuki bucks his legs and knocks Izuku off him. When they’re sitting facing each other, Katsuki can’t help but shout despite the sharp pain in his ribs.

“What the hell are you talking about?!” His voice comes out loud and incredulous. His brain can’t even begin to process all the stupid shit Izuku’s mouth spewed just now. 

Missed his— What? What the fuck does that even mean? 

Izuku’s mouth hangs open, taken aback by the sudden turn in mood and probably wondering how the interrogation turned onto him so fast.

“I mean, I know I’ve…” He presses his mouth into a pained line, shame in his eyes. “I’ve kept you waiting long enough and—“

“What? You think I’m that fucking impatient??” He barks, actually offended. It’s only been, what, like, a month since that conversation on the lawn? He scoffs. “When I told you you could take your time, I meant it.” 

Izuku sighs, hugging his knees to his chest, all the fight out of him now. “I know,” he says, “And I did — take my time, I mean — And I…I figured out what I needed to.” 

Katsuki’s heart drops into his stomach and his body suddenly remembers the panic of Izuku’s close proximity.

The doom of finally accepting his heart only to fumble and break it an instant later. 

No, no, no, he thought he had more time. 

A cool hand slips in his and only then he realizes he’s breathing hard again.

“Izuku, I — “

“Don’t you dare say you can’t,” The green haired boy pleads softly. “When have you ever said that in your life before today? We both know Kacchan can do anything.” His eyes linger on their hands then find Katsuki’s, bright green against deep red. “And you don’t have to alone…I’m right here, Kacchan.”

Katsuki swallows dry, throat tight and aching. The last thing he wants to do it fucking cry again, but at this point, he’s too raw to fight the pull of it behind his eyes. 

“Ok. I promised we’d talk when you figured shit out so…if you want me to talk, I’ll talk,” he says, suddenly quiet. “You wanna know what’s fucking wrong? Then ok. Here it is…”

__________

Izuku’s pulse is in his throat looking at Kacchan stare down at the gravel beneath them.

This is it.

He thought about it a lot while Kacchan was asleep in the recovery ward. And then even more when he got kicked out of his room and ran to Uraraka’s.

His friends, though kind and enthusiastic, only did so much to dissuade the dread he felt in his gut that though Kacchan may care for him, he might not want Izuku the way Izuku wants him. 

It’s a possibility he’s steeled himself to prepare for. Despite all his hopes for the contrary and the mounds of evidence he’s formed in his mind to bolster his courage to confess, he can’t help but believe that Kacchan can’t possibly love him.

He’s not blind, he’s seen the anguish hidden deep in Kacchan’s ruby eyes whenever he thinks Izuku isn’t looking. Kacchan’s been wound up for days now and he knows it’s not just training. There’s conflict in his expression. It’s the look of someone who fears the end, who doesn’t want to hurt the other when they finally let them down. 

And then last night happened. Kacchan pushed him away and didn’t want Izuku to touch him again, even flinched away at the sound of his voice. That makes him think that maybe he felt bad leading Izuku on. 

Maybe he only kissed him because he thought Izuku wanted it.

Maybe he’s been running because he doesn’t want to be the one to break Izuku’s heart. 

But he doesn’t mind getting his heart broken. 

As long as it’s Kacchan. 

In the space between Kacchan’s next words, every worry and anxiety floods to the forefront of his mind until he’s convinced that yes, this is the end of the line, that if they just get it over with they can move on and continue being friends.

He’s prepared for every way Kacchan might turn him down. 

But Kacchan doesn’t say any of that.

“I love you,” he says, looking Izuku straight in the eye. His voice is even and strong and though he’s scowling, his eyes are soft and open with emotion. It stops Izuku’s heart. “I’m so in love with you it fucking scares me, Izuku. That’s what’s fucking wrong.”

“Wh-why…” Izuku’s mouth opens and closes but the rest of the question dies on his lips. 

The air is so still it feels like time’s stopped in its tracks.

He loves me, he thinks. 

And the funny thing is, he believes him. In an instant, every doubt is whisked away, no trace of it left in his mind where it once was flooded. There’s nothing but that single truth, already home in his mind. 

Kacchan loves him.

What the fuck. 

Kacchan rakes a hand roughly in his hair, dirtying his blond spikes with the dark dust of ash and broken gravel. He averts his eyes to a spot off to the side, all shy and grouchy about it.

“What? Like me being a piece of shit asshole isn’t reason enough for it to be a bad idea?” He mutters. “You keep talking about being unfair, but it’s me, I’m the one who should be fucking sorry. I mean, I started all this shit...” He sighs. “All summer, I’ve been fucking selfish…But I can’t anymore. If I really love you, I can’t keep hurting you.”

Izuku’s already shaking his head, still feeling like he’s in the middle of a dream.

But Kacchan keeps going, voice growing louder as he grows more frustrated. “We both know it’s all I’m fucking good for. All I’ve ever fucking done is hurt you and if it’s not me it’s some asshole using me to hurt you while I’m fucking helpless to do anything but die…a-and no amount of apologies or birthdays or fucking niceties will ever make up for that. I…I don’t deserve that from you, Izuku. I don’t deserve you.” He swipes his wrist across his cheek angrily. “So we need to fucking stop…whatever this is. Because I can’t love you right and I won’t be the end of another hero. I won’t.” 

The air sits heavy around them with the finality of Kacchan’s words. He looks so weary sat there in the cracked earth.

Izuku’s brain is a blank void. There aren’t words yet for how he feels. But he needs to try to get something out at least.

But not before he tackles Kacchan to the ground, grappling him until he’s sitting flat on the blond’s chest with his sleep shirt bunched in his angry fists. 

Because yes, after all that, the first clear, legible emotion he can decipher is anger. 

“You jerk,” he growls, their faces mere inches apart. He lifts Kacchan up by his collar and slams him back down into the dirt with a grunt. “Didn’t I tell you that if you ever talk bad about yourself I’d kick your ass?? Even without that I should anyway just for how fucking wrong you are about everything else!” 

He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead against Kacchan, hard enough to press his imprint in the concrete below.

Below him, Kacchan makes a small sound when his breath catches.

It makes him feel brave enough to keep going. 

“Seriously, you’re such an idiot sometimes, Kacchan,” he breathes a laugh. “You think, what, that I deserve the best? Well, what if you’re the one I want, Kacchan, and I won’t settle for less than the best, huh? Because you are! You don’t even know I love you and you’ve already decided what’s best for both of us like you have any right to make that call on your own.” 

He pulls away just enough for Kacchan to see his face clearly. His eyes are wide, the light of the moon shining in his blown out pupils. 

“No matter what you think, I know you deserve more than the world, more than me or anything I can give you, but if you love me then I’m already yours,” he says. “And you’re mine.“

There’s conflict written all over Kacchan’s fave, cracking his mask into one of anguish and doubt. He gulps loudly.

“Izuku — “

“Kacchan,” he stops him, voice firm. “I’ve already lost you too many times to count. Please. Don’t make me go through it again.” 

His words plead from the deepest, barest part of his soul. The part that begs without words, once too fragile to take the blow of disappointment but now bolstered by purpose. 

“I’m not — “ Kacchan tries to argue, it’s half-hearted and small. His breath is warm against Izuku’s face.

“You are,” Izuku says, meaning every word. He releases the collar of his shirt and entraps his smooth, perfect face between his scarred hands. “Kacchan. I love you and I’m done waiting…Aren’t you?” 

Kacchan’s eyes swim over him, lip trembling as Izuku watches his mind race. He watches his ruby eyes close as he takes a deep steadying breath. On the exhale, a thin trail of tears escapes from the corners of his eyes.

When they open, they’re all warmth and stubborn confidence to block out the fear that lurks beneath.

Izuku smiles. There he is.

“Yeah,” he says, the corner of his mouth curling into a shy smile that lights up the night. “I really fucking am.”

__________

Around a corner, hidden from sight, Eijirou feels himself let out a long-held breath. Thank god, he thinks with a wave of relief so sweet he wonders of its possible to get high off it. Nect to him, he hears Kaminari give his own sigh and turns to see his friend grinning ear to ear.

Just behind him, Aizawa-sensei rolls his eye, his face an impassive mask of disinterest. 

Eijirou and Kaminari made it to the training grounds and quickly discovered their friends’ mid-argument, followed by Aizawa-sensei just a moment later. At first they tried to block the pro from walking in on the scene, to which their teacher snorted.

“If you really think I’m going to stop them from resolving their issues themselves, then you really don’t know me at all. As long as they don’t fight again, we’re eavesdropping until the very end.” 

They seriously have the best teacher. 

Aizawa pushes off the wall and lazily shuffles out from their hiding spot, sighing, “Alright, that’s about enough…” 

He readies his capture scarf just as Eijirou captures Kaminari in a bonecrushing hug, the two of them quietly screaming their excitement.

“Dude! Dude!” They say over and over while they hop in place. 

He feels so proud. He wonders if this is how fathers feel when their sons learn to walk or make a friend at the park for the first time.

They did it. They really did it. 

“Dude, I feel like I’m flying or something ,” Eijirou laughs offhandedly, wiping away a stray tear from his eye.

“No kidding,” his friend laughs back. Kaminari gives him a wide grin, eyes shining with tears of his own. 

Man, he loves his friends so much. 

Chapter Text

They immediately get chewed out when Aizawa drags them back to the recovery ward. First by their teacher, then their worried parents — most of it from Katsuki’s mother.

The only thing that stops their worried scolding is the adrenaline finally dropping in Katsuki’s system, returning the weight and strain of his body all at once. It’s so much he feels his eyes close and when they open again he’s on the floor with a new ache at the temple of his forehead. 

Shit, he passed out again.

Izuku really did a number on him with that Air Force Smash. 

“Ah! Kacchan!!” He hears Izuku yelp from where his mom and All Might are taking turns crying and scolding him. “What!! Are you ok??”

“M’fine, it happens,” he grumbles, rubbing his temple.

“What the fuck does that mean??” He yelps. “Happens how often??”

Oh right. Izuku doesn’t know about that. Shit.

He’s saved from having to explain himself when he gets back onto the bed and Recovery Girl gets her chance to get her own licks in, scolding him under her breath with a cold stethoscope pressed to his back.

“We’ve been over this too many times, young man,” she tuts as she shakes her head. “This heart of yours is too finicky for you to be so reckless with it, especially with the effect of the nitroglycerin from your quirk. It already switches between beating too fast and too slow enough when you’re at rest…”

“I told you, it’s not slow,” Katsuki mutters, trying to keep his voice down as if everyone in the room isn’t already listening. 

“And I’ve told you you only think that because you don't know what a normal heart's supposed to feel like,” she snaps back. “With your elevated stress levels and the effect of the nitroglycerin-like substance in your sweat, it’s no wonder. Let me say it again: If it’s fast, it’s overworked and if it’s over worked — “

“It’ll fucking stop, I know,” Katsuki finishes, ignoring the wide-eyed look it earns from from his parents. His dad looks so pale behind his glasses he thinks he’s about to pass out next.

“I’d hope you do,” the old lady gives him a stern look. She moves the stethoscope to the left and tuts to herself. “You kids…So reckless…Didn’t we tell you to take it slow when you used your quirk after being inactive so long?” 

Katsuki winces. At the first mention of his quirk, his mom nearly explodes herself. “You’re using your quirk again?!!” She yells right in his ear, a mix of surprise, anger, and worry contorting her face.

“Kacchan!” Izuku appears right next to her to join in scolding him. “You didn’t tell your parents?? Or me?? What the hell!” 

He looks away, embarrassed and not wanting to answers. From behind their heads, he catches a glimpse of Aizawa facepalming himself with a deep sigh as All Might pats his back encouragingly. 

“It was no one’s fucking business,” he tries to mumble under his breath, but even to him that sounds like a lame ass excuse. 

And ‘I felt like shit and didn’t want anyone to know and fucking worry, especially not you or my damn mom’ just doesn’t roll off the tongue the same way either.

Izuku blocks his view by leaning in close, their noses almost touching. He’s pouting like a stubborn toddler and fuck if that isn’t the cutest thing.

“Katsuki. From now on, no more secrets, ok?” He says sternly and Katsuki just has to roll his eyes while his earns burn.

“You’re one to talk, nerd,” he counters, remembering every time the nerd kept something to himself because he thought it was ‘for the greater good’ or some crap like that. But Izuku’s not the one in the hot seat right now, so then he grumbles under his breath, “But yeah, fine. Whatever.”

“Good,” he grins then stops short, faltering like a thought just came to him. “And…I want to hold your hand again. Is that ok?” A bit of his smile comes back, turning up at the corner in a hopeful, shy way that he knows he can’t resist.

“I’m not scared. I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” Izuku adds quiet enough that only Katsuki can hear. “So can I hold you hand?”

He tries not to flinch at the request. 

He doesn’t trust himself the way Izuku does. It’s a foreign feeling, this fear. It unsettles him.

But if Izuku trusts him, then he really can’t say no anymore. Not after tonight.

“You don’t need to ask, weirdo,” he mumbles under his breath.

Izuku smiles wide and pecks a tiny kiss on his nose, satisfied. When he backs away and takes a seat right next to Katsuki on the edge of the bed, linking their hands together so naturally it feels like coming home, they find the whole room besides Aizawa staring at them.  

“What?” Katsuki demands loudly.

His mom’s the first to crack a smile, clutching his father’s arm, who looks proud in his quiet way. “Nothin’,” she barks a laugh, “Just never thought I’d ever see my son blushing like a lovesick school boy is all.” Her smile turns into something like a familiar smirk, the kind she always wears when he’s about to rib him for some embarrassing shit he did when he was a toddler. “But don’t think that means you’re not in trouble just ‘cause we’re happy for you, brat.”

Katsuki watches in horror as his mother steps right up to him and kneels at his feet, looking up at him with a wobbly frown she’s trying to keep still. She puts a hand on his knee. She’s shaking.

“I mean, what the hell, Katsuki?” She asks with a level gaze, her eyebrows creased. “You think we deserve to hear all that shit — about your health, about your quirk, about you — like this? Your dad and I, god, we love you so much and we know you’re tough, and I know I’ve been hard on you but — “ Her voice breaks. “ — Where did we go wrong if we made you think you needed to keep things like this from us?”

A tear slips from the corner of her eye and Katsuki really feels like his heart stops cold right there.

“Mom…” He starts to say, but loses the trail. He doesn’t know what to say except. “I’m ok.”

Somehow it makes her laugh, the kind that isn’t funny but shakes your shoulders anyway. “Of course you are, Katsuki,” she says, brushing the tear away, putting her best face back on. “And whatever happens, you’re gonna be more than ok. You’re gonna be the best, right?” That makes him laugh this time. “And we’re gonna be right here for you, you got that? Even when you’re getting your punk ass into trouble picking fights like the kid you’ve always been.”

He puts his free hand over his mother’s and does his best to match her proud smirk. All he can do is nod with the stone-sized lump in his throat.

For the first time in days, he feels like he really will be ok. 

His mom seems to see it in him and nearly tackles him in a strangling hug that he instinctively tries to wrestle his way out of. His dad stands at their side, a hand on each of them, eyes glassy with unshed tears.

Yeah. Maybe more than ok.

As his mom tries to ruffles his hair, Izuku bows his head politely to her. “Please, Auntie, don’t be so hard on Kacchan, it’s my fault we were fighting. I pushed him and—“ 

“And it seems you broke through his mental block,” Aizawa cuts into the heartfelt scene, arms crossed over his chest. “Enough so that he activated his quirk, I’d estimate at about twenty percent his full capacity, without even realizing it. ” 

“That was twenty percent??” Katsuki and Izuku cry in unison, causing them to both to startle and look away from each other, faces flushed. 

(His mom gives him a shit-eating grin before finally backing up to give him space.

Damn, that fucking woman. How the fuck he missed shit like that from her is already beyond him.)

“Give or take,” Aizawa smirks with a one shouldered shrug. Despite this being one of the more mortifying nights of Katsuki’s young life, their teacher seems like he’s in a rarely good mood. “Or maybe I’m just being optimistic.” 

Good for fucking him.

“Wait, how do you know?” Izuku asks, all wide-eyed and curious. His fingers twitch in Katsuki's hand like he desperately wants to be writing all of this down right now.

Fucking nerd, Katsuki smirks. 

“We all watched it on the security cameras while Aizawa went to fetch you,” All Might explains. Auntie Inko fans her face just thinking about it. Any kind of hero action involving her son makes her nauseous. “It was quite impressive, I’ll admit.” 

Izuku immediately asks All Might to show him the footage to see the playback of Katsuki propelling himself with explosions from his legs, which is fucking wild because he doesn’t even remember doing that. 

Aizawa sighs, ignoring the nerd’s chattering to continue his explanation. “You’ve got a lot more fire power at your disposal now, kid,” he says, “And while I’d prefer you test run that kind of power in training, I suppose progress is progress and we should it lucky it went off without a hitch…Now let’s just see if you can do it intentionally next time.” 

“Next time! You mean Kacchan can still train, sensei??” Izuku tunes back into their conversation, startling All Might with the sudden turn.

“So long as your parents know about it this time and approve,” Aizawa scolds. “You still have a ways to go before you’ll be ready for fall term.” His expression shifts back to serious and disinterested. “Now in terms of your punishment, campus is still closed and classes still suspended, so house arrest won’t do you two any good. I’ll inform the class rep and let him decide your cleaning duties for the next two days for Bakugou, three for Midoriya. Understood?” 

“Yes, sir,” they say, again in perfect unison.

“And we’re having family dinner at least once a week until we move back to the house and you start school,” Katsuki’s mom crosses her arms over her chest. “With the Midoriyas. No backing out and keepin’ things to yourself. Ok, kid?”

Katsuki meets his mother’s crimson gaze, and for the first time in a while, doesn’t flinch away from it. Though the worry’s there, so is the burn of fire he’s so used to seeing.

“Ok,” he agrees, doing his best to smile back

__________

“God-fucking-damnit!! Motherfucking shit — !!”

Izuku sighs, feeling himself smiling as he watches Kacchan from across the training ground. It’s the third day after their fight. It’s a bright and beautiful August morning and Izuku can’t help but feel good.

He watches Iida chop his arm in the air, trying to be encouraging but just coming across anxious.

“Bakugou, please have patience it’s only — “

Kacchan roars as he stomps his foot in frustration and sets off an accidental explosion with his foot, blasting himself onto his back.

“Damn it! Work when I want you to stupid quirk!!” He yells and pounds his fists on his legs as if to scold them.

“There is no need to hit yourself!!” Iida waves his hands, now genuinely concerned.

Izuku laughs watching them from the bench with All Might. When he told Kacchan to ask Iida for help, he really didn’t think the pair of them together would be this amusing. 

And it’s good to see Kacchan more like his usual self again.

“I’m willing to bet Bakugou hasn’t had this much trouble controlling his quirk since he first got it as a child,” All Might observes knowingly, rubbing his chin. 

Izuku nods, not taking his eyes off Kacchan as he gets to his feet and takes a readied stance “Even when we were kids, Kacchan always had great control of his quirk,” he explains. “Way before any of the other kids. And as we got older he trained really hard to stay ahead. That’s part of why people were always so drawn to him back then.”

“I see,” All Might grins. “So it’s because of that foundation he’s able to wield these increasing high intensity blasts with his hands right away…But also why he’s struggling to incorporate his legs now. It’s been so long since he’s been at square one, it’s basically new territory…Combined with the added fire power, no wonder it’s been tricky for him…”

“Exactly!” Izuku nods. “But Kacchan’s so disciplined, there’s no doubt he’ll get the hang of it in no time! The only concern is really his heart because his sweat is close enough to nitroglycerin that even before his quirk upgrade, it affected his heart rate and blood pressure, but now with the amount of energy it takes to set off the explosions in his body, that side effect of his quirk will be more of a factor in how much energy he can put out at a given time and for how long — not to mention his hearing being affected over time like the doctors warned—but if anyone can do it, I know Kacchan can!!”

All Might laughs loudly. “Well said! And all in one breath! Ha, I’ve missed that fan boy spirit of yours!” 

Izuku beams up at him. He’s practically brimming with energy. It’s been too long since the last time he and All Might sat together like this to talk about training. It feels just like old times.

The two of them, enjoying a beautiful day together.

It’s all he could hope for. 

The old hero leans back on his palms, seemingly thinking the same thing from the serene smile on his face. “It seems you’ll both be starting the fall term on completely different footing,” he muses. “And to think this time last year you had barely begun using five percent of your power. And now…” He lets out a deep breath, closing his eyes a moment. “I’ve already said it many times over but…Words can’t even describe how proud I am of you both, young Midoriya. It’s enough to make an old man cry.” 

Izuku watches in awe as All Might, his mentor, his hero, lays a large hand on his shoulder, sporting his signature smile. There are little beads of tears in the corners of his eyes. 

“Thank you, again, for this gift,” All Might says.

A summer wind blows through the training ground, enough to chill their warm skin. Even still, Izuku’s core radiates warmth.

He earned this life. And here he is, living every blessed minute of it. 

Before he can find the words to thank his mentor, a voice calls his name on the wind.

He looks up to see Kacchan waving a hand in the air.

“Izuku! Get your ass over here!” Kacchan calls with a scowl. “The class rep says we’re racing! You want in?”

Izuku turns back to All Might who smiles.

“Go on,” says the old hero.

His flashes a big smile and rushes off across the field.

But not before crushing his mentor in the biggest hug he can muster.

__________

Toshinori can’t help the chuckle that comes out of him watching Young Midoriya run off to meet Bakugou on the training ground.

The image of the two of them together, smiling and laughing, it does wonder to quell the anxious feeling that’s built up like a mountain in him the past few months.

He still can’t forgive himself for not being able to fight alongside them, for having to sit back and let so many young heros take his space on the front line—most of all those two men.

He doesn’t think that shame will ever go away, not out of envy or pride, but out of the obligation he feels deep in his soul to do right.

Toshinori knows all of his failings are his burden to bear.

He always knew he was made to be a hero. He just felt it. He was going to be a hero who changed the world. 

It’s what he told his master, the late great Nana Shimura, that inevitably drew her to choose him as a successor of One For All. His master was one of the greatest heroes he knew back then, and the second she took him under her wing Toshinori knew she was an even better mentor. And he never fully appreciated the full extent of how incredible she was until he took on his own pupil and realized just how out of his depth he was trying to be both hero and teacher.

Midoriya and Bakugou disappear with a blast of energy, disappearing in an instant to race around the grounds. The Class A representative, Iida, who charged up his engines only to leap a few steps, laughs from his belly as he shields his eyes as he watches his friends speed ahead.

“There we go! That’s it!!” He shouts at the top of his lungs.

Toshinori smiles. He can’t thank the universe enough that his pupil is surrounded by such good people.

Toshinori still cringes thinking of all the grand ideas and expectations he put on Young Midoriya’s shoulders that nearly led the boy to an early grave.

She always did try to warn him of that.

“You believe in the impossible, Toshinori,” she’d say. “But try not to write off the possible so quickly. Sometimes the most precious things are the things so obvious we forget to see them.”

Young as he was then, he almost never understood what any of her advice meant until she was no longer there to give it. 

Ever since her passing flashes of his master’s wisdom come back to him, illuminated and clear like billboards on a highway. Now, as old as he is, he finally understands what his master was teaching. It was the same thing she fought so valiantly for.

A tell-tale clap of thunder is the only warning they get when Midoriya shoots around a corner, flying propelling himself forward expelling energy from his hands using Fa-Jin. Along with the intense look in his bright eyes, it’s scary how much he looks like Bakugou.

Speaking of the blond, he’s right on Midoriya’s tail, blasting himself in what looks like successive hops using blasts from his feet. For all the trouble he had this morning, he seems to be doing well keeping a handle on his blasts.

Toshinori grins to himself. 

Hm, he thinks, it seems like Midoriya isn’t the only one picking up some new moves these days.

Midoriya flies past the imaginary finish line and lands solidly on his feet, skirting to a graceful stop.

Bakugou, however, stutters a blast from his left leg on his dismount and lands hard face-first, tumbling a few feet before coming to a stop.

“Fucking damnit!! I almost had it!!” He mutter-yells through clenched teeth. Midoriya’s already right on him in a flash, talking a mile a minute to inspect for damage. Though Bakugou frowns through his worry, he nonetheless lets Midoriya turn his head this way in that to look at his scratches without complaint.

“We’re going again and this time I’m gonna fucking beat you,” The blond growls. “I almost had it on that last turn! Ugh! Fuck!!”

“Kacchan, hang on! Hold still, you’re bleeding!” The green haired boy scolds, fussing over a scratch on Bakugou’s cheek. “You need a bandage!”

“No, I need to fucking try that again until I get it right!”

“Hey! No, stay down, asshole! What if you’re hurt?!”

They bicker like that for a little bit as Iida stands over them and mediates and again, Toshinori can’t help but laugh out loud. Those two never fail to give him hope. Their relationship, as far as its come, is a testament to that and a needed reminder in these still dark days.

These kids, he thinks to himself. They really are true heroes. Even when they’re supposed to be enjoying their summers, they’re still running around doing elaborate stuff like throwing a festival for the school.

He chuckles again. It’s like they’re trying to make the adults look bad.

These kids. He wonders what more he can do for them.

Most of all, he hopes they treasure this. The possible and real beauty of a day like this.

This is what every hero fights for and also what many heroes seldom get to have.

The chance to live a good life.

As he has every day, he prays that these young heroes of today learn from the mistakes of his generation and all get to live happily.

If he can at least accomplish that in his life, he knows that she’d be proud.

___________

Their homeroom teacher calls their class down to the lobby of the dorm for a meeting, a robot at their side. Tamaki twiddles his thumbs from the middle of the pack, waiting anxiously for what news awaits them. His mind’s already come up with about a dozen scenarios ranging from mild inconvenience to total disaster by the time all their classmates are accounted for.

We’re still not graduating, he thinks.

No, the city’s been overrun with villains again

No worse, it’s another project that forces them to go outside and try new things.

He shudders.

They watch the robot roll forward and whirr to life as it’s single eye glows and a projection of Principal Nezu appears before them in the air. 

The budget at this school will never cease to amaze him. 

The message from the principal goes as follows:

“Hello UA Students! On behalf of the school’s staff, we hope you are living well and enjoying your vacation and using it to better yourselves and rest after the many trials this year has put you through. Even in this time of rest, your efforts to come together to put on a festival last month for your fellow students as well as your community did not go unnoticed. Students from every year and every course participated to make something truly special and for that, we are all grateful. So much so that we adults and the community at large have followed suit and come together in hopes of giving our students a parting gift before the fall term starts and the residence living on UA’s campus return to their homes! At the end of this month, UA will be hosting their first ever Summer Ball! We hope at this you all enjoy one last celebration together and—“ 

Suddenly, Present Mic hops into the frame, pushing their principal’s chair aside and leaning in close to the camera.

“You heard right, listeners! We’re throwin’ you a dance!! So you all better get those dancing shoes on and get ready to party, yo! Be there or be square! Peace out!”

The feed blinks out and the room collectively gasps before exploding with the sound of excitement at the prospect of dressing up and partnering for the dance. 

Tamaki’s stomach already hurts thinking about it.

To his right, Hado squeals. Of course, she’s be into this. It’s right up her alley. She turns on him all starry-eyed with a big smile, mouth running a mile a minute.

“Oh, Amajiki! Are you excited? I’m excited! I’ve never been to a dance! Have you? I bet it’ll be so fun!! And everyone will look so good dressed up and—Oh! I know just the dress that Yuyu should wear! It’s one she’s had for ages but never worn! Can you believe that? Even though she’s so pretty in it! Eee, I’m so excited! Are you excited?” She circles her arm with his and leans her head against his shoulder, tugging him off balance. “Oh, Amajiki! Listen, listen! Since you helped me so much with the pageant this year, you gotta let me help you get ready for this dance? Pretty pretty please? Pleeeaase, Amajiki?” 

Hado looks up at him with that sparkly wide-eyed look that means she knows he’ll let her do what she wants but still wants to get his permission to do it. Hado’s just a good friend that way and ultimately that’s what always gets Tamaki to cave.

“Yes,” he mumbles, avoiding the brightness of her smile.

“Eeee! Yay! I’ve gotta tell Yuyu!” She squeals again then stands on her tippy-toes to give him a quick peck on his cheek that makes the heat burn up to his ears before running off to find her best friend.

Tamaki has a feeling he doesn’t know what he just got himself into, but he still accepts his fate. As long as Hado’s happy, it’s fine.

A firm punch to his arm makes him turn away from watching Hado go. Mirio’s grinning down at him with his hands on his hips, always in a hero pose.

“Isn’t this a great idea, Tamaki?” Mirio gestures to the room where all their classmates are buzzing with excitement. “It’s gotten everyone all fired up again! What a perfect way to end our summer!”

And our time here at UA, he thinks, understanding what he means without Mirio having to say it out loud.

Tamaki finds himself smiling despite the worry bubbling in the pit of his stomach. 

“I bet Eri’s never been to a big dance like this before, huh?” He says and Mirio’s eyes light up.

“You’re right! She’ll be so stoked when we tell her!” Mirio pumps a fist in the air. “And she can wear a pretty dress or a little suit if she wants and…”

He listen to Mirio talk for a while, just happy to listen while his friend lists off all the best possible things that could come from this dance.  It does a little to ease the anxiety creeping under his skin. 

No one will be looking at him or paying attention to how awkward he is when Mirio’s right there. 

Mirio interrupts himself mid-sentence, making Tamaki tune back in. Seems he has an idea. The tall blond turns to Tamaki and though his smile doesn’t change, his face takes on a subtle seriousness Tamaki doesn’t see often on him.

“Are you planning on going to the dance, Tamaki?” Mirio asks.

Tamaki doesn’t have to think twice.

“If you are, yeah,” he answers.

Mirio swings an arm over his shoulder and laughs. “Well, I’m only going if are!”

Tamaki joins him, smiling to the floor. 

“Then I guess we’re going.” 

__________

Ashido nearly faints when they get the news about the dance. Yaomomo giggles as she hops around the common area like a mad bunny. Apparently her parents as well as a handful of other wealthy UA families are sponsors for the event, so she knew all about it long before it was announced. 

(Ashido ends up hanging onto her by the shoulders, thanking her and her family’s money for this opportunity.)

It’s all anyone can talk about over dinner. Since they still can’t leave campus to shop, Yaomomo insists that her family’s stylist should come help everyone get outfitted for the ball, proposing the idea of setting up a boutique where students can come and choose what they’d like to wear, accessories and all. 

Again, poor Yaomomo gets tackled to the ground with tearful thank-yous and hugs. 

Izuku always forgets just how rich she really is.

He’s sat on the couch next to Kacchan, who again is totally engrossed in the last volume of a romantic adventure series he swore he hated, when the idea of dates comes up. Though Kacchan doesn’t stir, Izuku’s ear pique in interest, listening to the conversation happening just across the common room. 

“So do you think people are bringing dates to this thing or what?” Kaminari asks out loud. 

Jirou snorts a laugh. “People, yeah. You? Eh, maybe, maybe not,” she teases. “We’ll see.”

“Jirouuu!” Kaminari whines and Izuku catches a glimpse of him flushing bright red when she playfully punches his arm out of his periphery.

“I just heard from Kendo that a couple Class B guys’re planning on asking their dates this week! Like all public and flashy too!” Ashido pipes up again, gracefully moving past Kaminari’s anguish. 

“It takes a lot of courage to ask someone out! Not to mention in front of a ton of people!” Kirishima adds, “It’s so manly!!”

“I wonder if Awase from Class B’s gonna ask you to the dance, Momo!” Hagakure says. “Ever since the training camp last year, it seems he’s a big fan of yours!” 

“He just knows how tough and smart our Yaomomo is,” Jirou says cooly. “She’s had a ton of fans since, like, forever.”

Izuku imagines Yaomomo smile gracefully at the compliments. “I believe Jirou’s right. Awase is a good colleague and friend, that’s all. Actually, I think he might actually be more interested in Kendo. They hang out quite a lot.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if most of the guys in our grade are interested in her! She’s awesome!” Ashido cheers, “She killed it at the beauty pageant and she’s super strong!”

“Agreed!” Yaomomo claps. 

“I’m rooting for my boy, Tetsu, that’s all I know,” Kirishima says, sounding like he’s grinning.

“You guys’re selling yourselves short,” Kaminari says. “I’m willing to bet there’re a ton of guys pissing themselves waiting to ask y’all out.” 

“And who says we’re planning on waiting around to be asked?” Ashido says and Izuku just knows she winks when she says it. 

“Or that we wanna go with a guy?” Uraraka adds with a giggle and Asui ribbits in agreement.

“Touche!” Kirishima says.

As their conversation veers off toward other subjects, Izuku finds himself stuck on thinking about the dance. He hadn’t thought much of the idea initially, but after seeing the rest of the class so excited about it, he found himself getting caught up in it too. He’s never been to any kind of dance or party like this. He doesn’t really know how it’s supposed to work.

It didn’t even occur to him he could ask someone to go with him.

He steals a quick glance at Kacchan next to him. He’s slouched on the couch with his legs stretched out, scowling at the page he’s on so intensely Izuku wonders what possibly could be happening to make him so upset. His nose twitches like he has an itch but can’t be bothered to scratch it because he’s so focused.

Izuku smiles and feels the core of his stomach flutter with warmth. 

After their fight, they went back to the room together without many words passed between them. They said so much that now it only felt right to sit in the quiet and let the truth settle between them.

When they went to bed and Kacchan curled against him, tucking his head against Izuku’s chest so he could breathe in the sweet spice of his soft spikes, Izuku knew they would be ok. 

It was Kacchan who finally spoke. 

“You love me?” Kacchan asked in a small voice, breaking the quiet.

“Yes,” Izuku whispered against his hair, still scratching a gentle hand through the hair. 

There’s a long stretch of silence until Izuku felt the rumble of his voice against his chest say, “Tell me again. Please.”

“I love you, Kacchan,” Izuku obliged.

He heard Kacchan swallow dry, felt his breath hitch. 

“One more.” 

“Ok. I love you.” 

They went on like that until sleep finally stole them away. 

The next couple days after were delightfully normal and dull. Kacchan trained, they cleaned the dorms under Iida’s watchful eye, they spent most of their time within arms length of each other.

Izuku knows they aren’t out of the woods yet. He knows all the doubt and worry that hang over the both of them won’t just disappear after one night. He knows that though Kacchan loves him, he’s still afraid of the fact that Izuku loves him back. 

Honestly, Izuku would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same way.

But for the moment, he’s been so high on the fact that it’s out in the open, he can’t find it in himself to be anything but glad for it. 

So he tries to take every bit of touch and closeness as a small win. 

It should be enough for him. Before this summer, it certainly would have been more than enough to satiate him. But if he’s learned anything about himself since the end of the war, it’s this: 

At the core of his being, he’s always been greedy.

He’s always sought out for more than what he was given. And despite the burn of shame he felt at his selfishness—that he’s now learning is just the most human desire to want for oneself—he’s always chased what he wanted, never satisfied until it was his.

And he’s starting to think that’s ok.

So he wants to be more than just mutually in love with Kacchan. He wants to talk about being more.

Until now, he’s felt caught in a standstill. On one hand, Izuku can tell that Kacchan hasn’t been ready to talk about what’s between them and they both agreed to keep it to themselves for the time being, but on the other hand he also knows the blond might not want to bring up the subject even when he’s ready. 

Izuku knows Kacchan wouldn’t keep him waiting forever if that’s what he thought was best.

But they both decided they were done waiting.

And now he’s starting to wonder what Kacchan looks like in a real suit. 

So when Kacchan looks up, catching Izuku staring at him, those red ruby eyes bright with fire, Izuku knows he’s already made his decision. 

“What, nerd?” Kacchan demands with an annoyed frown, closing his book and sitting up.

“Go out with me,” Izuku says. 

The air goes still between them and the background noise of the common area disappears, fading away like someone turned the volume down by a knob.

Kacchan blinks at him, wide eyed and motionless.

“Huh?”

Izuku holds his gaze as he weaves their fingers together, feeling the warmth of Kacchan’s palm against his. Another small win.

“Go out with me,” he says again, pulling his hand close to his chest and laying a soft kiss on his knuckles, roughed up and bandaged from his training today. “Let me take you out on a date. Anything you want, I don’t care. As long as it’s with you, Kacchan.”

He patiently watches Kacchan’s eyes flicker from his face to their connected hands then back again as it settles on him that is Izuku is being serious, that this is really happening and it’s happening right this second.

No more waiting.

I already told you I’m yours, he pleads in his mind, so be brave with me.

For a second Izuku fears he rushed them into this too soon.

Then Kacchan reddens and says to the floor, “A date. You mean like an amusement park and crepes and shit?”

Izuku nods too fast. “Yeah,” he says. “Just the two of us.”

Kacchan presses his mouth into a firm line like he’s trying not to smile.

“Ok,” he answers.

He squeezes their hands and that’s how Izuku knows it’s real. Izuku feels the fine hairs on his arms bristle with energy as his smile spreads uncontrollably wide.

Quirk or no, in this moment he thinks he could fly if he tried.

“Izuku,” Kacchan says, watching his thumb run over the back of Izuku’s hand, back and forth in little arcs. 

“Yes?” Izuku leans forward, trying to see his eyes from behind his bangs.

The blond notices and lifts his head, making Izuku’s heart skip when their eyes meet again. His eyes have the glassy sheen of emotion and it does nothing to mute the brilliant red of his carmine irises.

“Are we together?” Kacchan asks quietly, his voice so raw and open that Izuku feels every ounce of worry and hope and fear and absolute, undoubting love rumble in his own chest. He’s never felt like he’s ever seen Kacchan so clearly as he does in this moment, like he goes fully transparent so every perfect flaw is laid bare.

It’s almost too much for him to take without crying, but for once, his tears keep at bay.

Izuku presses their foreheads together and answers clearly without any hesitation at all. 

“Yes,” he says.

Kacchan’s smile finally breaks free. 

And Izuku wants to kiss him so bad, but he has a burning question to ask him that only Kacchan can answer.

“What do you think? Are we together, Kacchan?” Izuku asks against his lips.

With a held breath, Kacchan nods, leaning in impossibly closer so the cold of their noses touch, sparking immediate warmth where their breath mingles into one. He feels Kacchan’s other hand on his neck pull him in to close the distance and then he finally kisses Izuku. 

It’s all sweetness and spice and wanting. Izuku practically melts into every ounce of touch, humming lightly against the warmth of Kacchan’s mouth so happily it feels ridiculous, but hell, does it feel good.

It’s a slow, savoring thing, like every touch is more precious than the last. And it feels different from when they’ve kissed before.

This time, they kiss like they have all the time in the world for more.

When he finally pulls away, Kacchan whispers back, breath soft against his lips.

“Yeah.”

Izuku gazes into red eyes and finds only certainty.

They get a beat together to relish in his answer before a cheer erupts around them and they nearly jump to opposite ends of the couch when the spell of quiet shatters and they remember they’re still on the couch.

From the other end of the common area and from the kitchen, all of their friends cheer and whistle, hugging each other in congratulations like businessmen who just landed a big sale.

“Thank god, I thought I was going to die waiting,” Kaminari says with his head in his hands as Jirou shakes him by the shoulders.

“Wheeee!” Aoyama shoots himself across the common room and leaves a shower of bright starlight in his wake.

Todoroki gives them a supportive thumbs up from the kitchen counter.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about! That was manly as hell!!” Kirishima hollers, pumping his fists at his sides in successive punches with a grin that shows all his sharp teeth.

Uraraka jumps onto his back, cheering in agreement and they run around the common room loudly like a knight and her steed on a victory lap. When he deposits her on the couch next to Izuku, she bounces up and down so high with such excitement it makes Izuku wonder if she accidentally activated her quirk.

“Dekuuu!” She cries as she hugs him right. “You did it, you big brilliant dummy!! You really did it, I’m so proud of you!”

He just laughs, patting her shoulder. “Thank you. I couldn’t have without you, Uraraka.”

She sniffles and laughs too, smiling big. “I know! Ha!”

As they’re mobbed with hugs and pats on the back from the rest of their classmates, both their faces flush pink. Kacchan slumps back on the couch, scowling with hot fury as Kaminari and Jirou poke at his face to draw out a smile as Yaoyorozu and Tokoyami look on. Izuku watches his ears turn a brighter shade with each friendly jab.

There’s so much commotion, Izuku barely notices that Kacchan holds his hand the whole time, tracing little circles on the back of his hand with his thumb gently. When they finally separate, he gives Izuku’s hands two quick squeezes before letting go.

__________

“No,” Aizawa-sensei says again.

Izuku presses his forehead even deeper into the floor, so hard he feels like he’ll crack it.

“Please, sensei!” Izuku begs again, voice strong but desperate. “Please sign off on the request!”

It earns him a light tap on the back of his head with the rolled up newspaper Aizawa-sensei’s holding in his hand.

“No,” he says again.

He’s not giving up.

“Please!” Izuku says again.

“The kid sure is persistent,” Mic notes from the opposite desk, smirking with a grin that says he’s enjoying himself a little too much. “He’s already come by three days in a row to plead his case. Anything worth that much effort’s gotta be important. So why not hear him out, Shota?”

Aizawa doesn’t even humor either of them a look, keeping his gaze on his computer screen as he types. It’s the only sound in the otherwise quiet staff room, the clack of the keys deafening in the quiet before his teacher answers.

“Because it’s an idiotic request,” the dark haired man deadpans. “Midoriya, get your head off the floor.”

Izuku obliges, meeting his teacher’s stoic gaze. Even though he knows the pro can’t activate his quirk, he still feels like his eyes are glowing red.

“For the last time, I am not approving you leaving campus just to go on a date with your fellow delinquent boyfriend,” Aizawa sighs. “No matter how many days in a row you come to bother me about it.” He turns back to the computer screen and smacks Izuku in the middle of his forehead with the newspaper roll he’s kept by his side ever day since Izuku first put in his request form.

“Now go back to the dorms before that aforementioned delinquent boyfriend comes barging in looking for you and leave me to my work. That’s an order.”

Izuku visibly deflates.

“Yes, sir,” he relents.

He brushes the wrinkles out of his jeans and gets ready to leave when Present Mic stops him.

 “Congrats, by the way, kid,” he grins. “And to me. Thanks to you two listeners, Shota here owes me a nice hot meal and five thousand yen!”

Izuku stands wordlessly until his teacher takes a second away from his computer to explain. 

“I bet it’d take you two until fall term,’ Aizawa says flatly. “But at least I’m not All Might. He bet all of us ten thousand your birthday would be the thing that finally did it.”

The funny thing is, Izuku isn’t even surprised at this point. 

Kacchan isn’t too happy by the look he gives Izuku when he gets back to his room. Probably because he’s been caught red-handed sneaking back in after slipping away to Aizawa’s office when Kacchan went to check on the vegetable garden after lunch.

“Oh, hi, Kacchan, I was — “

“Don’t say some bullshit excuse like you were out getting supplies again,” Kacchan interrupts, glaring daggers at him. “You fucking suck at lying. Yesterday you said you were borrowing a sewing kit from your mom and came back with a mixing bowl”

Yeah…not his finest moment.

Izuku caves immediately. There’s no point now that Aizawa’s put his foot down. So he tells Kacchan about the request form and going to his office.

“You dumbass,” Kacchan grumbles once he’s finished, arms crossed over his chest. He’s wearing his compression sleeve today, covering the scars over his arms despite the late summer heatwave beating down on them as they make their way to the classroom to work on their painting. “When I said we could go out, I didn’t mean to a literal amusement park…”

He flicks Izuku smack dab in the middle of his forehead to emphasize his point. Izuku yelps, surprised despite it being the third time since their conversation started.

“Ah! Kacchan, stop that!” Izuku swats his hand away, nearly pushing himself off the path and onto the grass as they round the corner of the gym. “I know that’s not what you meant, but I still wanted to try!” 

Kacchan tries to flick him again and Izuku has to dodge, hopping back and putting up a defensive fight stance to keep off any more unwanted attacks.

Kacchan stops to look at him with a smirk that Izuku reads as fondness before walking ahead to unlock the classroom door.

The second they get inside, they have to click on the fans and open the windows to let the musty, humid air out. The one down side of painting here rather than at the dorm is that the old classroom’s air con unit doesn’t work. It makes it so they have to take a lot of breaks until the afternoon cools off from the heat of high noon. He already feels like he’s coated in sweat.

As soon as they’re inside, Kacchan rips off his compression sleeve and shrugs off his loose t-shirt, so he’s just wearing the tank top underneath. Izuku tries not to stare.

“Fuckin’ hell, I hate summer,” the blond grunts under his breath, making quick work of getting out all their supplies.

As he’s tying off his smock apron, Kacchan tosses Izuku a cold drink from his bag. It’s so slick with condensation, it almost flies right out of Izuku’s hands.

He grins to himself. Despite being grumpy about Izuku sneaking around, Kacchan still made iced tea for them while he was gone.

“And you said you wanted to go eat somewhere!” Izuku tries to explain himself, not letting the topic of their first date go. “I even found a nice place that’s only a five minute walk from here and said we could even go chaperoned if they wanted…”

Kacchan makes a face, sticking his tongue out. “And have Aizawa’s beady eye on us all night from the next fucking table? No thanks.”

“Yeah, it would’nt’ve been my first choice either but,” He smiles, gazing down at the brushes in his hand like a bouquet of roses. “…It would still be our first real date.”

Kacchan blushes like he does every time Izuku uses the word ‘date.”

“You don’t need to take me somewhere fucking nice,” the blond says, suddenly interested in tapping a paintbrush in his palm like a hammer. And then he glitches back into himself and the shy look disappears. “And I didn’t fucking say anything about going anywhere. All I said was that I wanted to eat fucking curry, which we don’t need to leave to fucking do. I could make it here or order in the damn cafeteria.”

“But we do that all the time!” Izuku argues, his voice whining as he slumps forward dramatically. 

“Yeah, because it’s fucking nice!” Kacchan barks back. He groans up at the ceiling with a tiny growl in his throat then turns back to look at Izuku, face flushed all the way down his neck. “We’re already going to this fucking dance. Can’t that just be the date so we can call it a day and stop fucking talking about this?”

“But that’s like weeks away, Kacchaaan!” Izuku reminds him for the nth time. He sinks to the floor, criss-cross applesauce, and bows his head in defeat. “It’s not fair…you threw me a whole festival and I can’t even get us to one measly curry shop.”

“That wasn’t a — Shut up. It was your birthday,” Kacchan still insists, sounding exasperated.

“Still…” Izuku mutters, ever stubborn. His heart feels like lead in his chest, like it’s slowly sinking from it’s own weight. 

He knows he’s the one who rushed them into this, but it still sucks his haphazard plan isn’t going to work out. 

He’s really not good at this kind of stuff…

“Oi.” 

He feels Kacchan poke him on the back of his head and he raises his head enough to meet his eye. Kacchan’s crouched down in front of him, his eyes deep red. 

“You said it’d just be the two of us, right?” Kacchan asks in a soft rasp.

He reaches out so hand runs up through Izuku’s mess of hair, combing through it with a warm touch. The constant chatter at the back of Izuku’s brain quiets a bit as the hand starts to scratch lightly just the way he likes. 

The blond rest his chin on his arm, gaze off to the side. The bright light of the day haloes the tips of Kacchan’s spikes, making them look white hot. 

Izuku realizes Kacchan’s waiting for him to answer.

“Of course,” he nods. 

Kacchan’s lightly brushes a rogue hair behind Izuku’s ear, his eyes scanning the planes of his face in a way that makes him feel laid bare and vulnerable.

“Then it doesn’t matter what we do,” Kacchan says. “If we say it’s…a date, then fuck it, it’s a date, right?” 

He doesn’t miss the tremor in Kacchan’s hand as it brushes the shell of Izuku’s ear.

Right, Izuku remembers. He’s just as scared to get this right. 

Izuku’s throat clenches with emotion and his fore burns with heat, reinvigorated and fired up once more.

“Right!” He beams and steals a quick peck against Kacchan’s cheek before shooting up to his feet and bolting for the door. His brain's already five steps ahead of him, whirring with information faster than he can think.

“Hey! Wh-where the hell are you going??” Kacchan demands in shock, still crouched in the middle of the room.

Izuku stops in the doorway with a swing of his arm on the frame. He turns back and points right at Kacchan's surprised face, his mouth hanging open like he wants to yell but can't find the words.

“Meet me outside the dorm in one hour! We’re going out tonight!” He calls, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. 

“Wha — “ Is all Izuku catches before he’s off in a flash of green lightning.

“Wear something pretty, ok?” He shouts behind him, his voice an echo on the slight summer breeze.