Archive of Our Own

“Are you fucking kidding me, man?” Eijiro jerked away at the venom in Katsuki's voice. To be fair, it wasn’t unearned, but still…. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me she was gonna be here?”

Eijiro looked past Katsuki toward the living room of his moms' house, slowly filling with friends, old and new.

"I...I don't know, man; I thought maybe it had been enough time that you wouldn't care."

“I wouldn't care?!" hissed Katsuki, keeping his voice down so as not to display his patheticness in this moment. " How would you feel if I flaunted the biggest mistake you ever made in front of you?” 

Ejiro knew he shouldn’t ask, but he often did things that he knew he shouldn’t do. “Like what?”

“You want Mina to know what really happened to her pet hamster?”

Eijiros’ eyes widened, and he gasped. “You wouldn’t!” 

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed. “I should! You invite my ex-girlfriend to your Christmas party, and you decide to spring it on me now? I think Mina deserves to know that the last thing that little Fuwa saw before he died was your ass!”

“Ssshhh!” hissed Eijiro, looking around the room to make sure no one, especially Mina, had heard him. “I thought he was in his cage! I didn’t think to look before I sat down.”

“Like you didn’t think to tell me that Ochako could come waltzing through that door at any point?” shot back pointedly. 

Eijiro rubbed the back of his neck. 

“It’s your first Christmas back in two years! What were we supposed to uninvite Ochako?”

“No!” he snapped; he would never ask them to do that. Two years since they broke up, and the way she cried that day still made his chest ache. He never wanted anything to make her face look like that, let alone be the reason… again. “You just should not have invited me!”

“But we miss you!” he said, gesturing around the room. “Hanta, Denki, Midoriya, Iida, everyone’s here. We haven’t seen you since UA.”

Katsuki groaned and covered his face with his hands, eyes darting to the door as it opened and then letting out a sigh of relief when Jirou and Ponytail walked through the door. He still had time to leave. 

“Come on, man,” said Eijiro. “I’m sorry. I should have told you, but….” Eijiro moved closer, kind eyes filled with sympathy. “Would it be so bad to see her again? It’s been almost two years, right?” 

Two years. 

It sounded like a long time, but it didn’t feel long. Funny how thinking about someone every day made the last time you saw them feel a hell of a lot closer than they actually were.

Three years since he had left Musutafu and two years since they had called it off (after a miserable year of long distance).

Would it be so bad to see her again?

Bad wasn’t the word he would use. 

Excruciating. 

Painful. 

Gut-wrenching.

Pathetic.

Those were all the words he would use to describe what seeing the ex you never got over again after two years...because he was for damn sure that she was over him. 

There was no way that she wasn’t. 

But him…he had been gone for her from the moment she fell into his lap…literally.  

She was pretty. Popular. Bubbly. A cheerleader with a smile that you just couldn't look away from.

It was no wonder that she turned everyone’s head. 

What was a wonder was that he had somehow managed to turn hers... when so many people wanted her attention. 

It made no sense that he would be the one she would want, a somewhat reformed asshole, who cursed like a sailor and spent every minute of his spare time either at football practice or studying and doing homework for his rigorous course load or at his various work studies and internships or his tutors— anything that would give him a leg up on his goals. 

It was their third year at UA and their last football game before winter break. 

He had seen her before, of course, she was at most of their games, defying gravity in a way that he would have been impressed by if he had taken even the slightest notice (of course, after she fell into his life, her presence at his games was a distraction he had really needed to sort out). But he didn’t notice her until that day.  

It was after a game — the last game of the season — and they had completely destroyed Ketsubutsu Academy. It had been freezing, with ice-cold rain falling... the field was a muddy wreck and a broken ankle waiting to happen, but they had won.

Katsuki didn’t follow any other sports at UA, but he knew across the board that it was the best…that included the cheer team. 

At the time, he had only really known Ponytail. Her girlfriend played for the girl’s football team, and she had come to a few of the away games, tournaments, and social events with the school teams. She also happened to be number one in their class, so they ran in some of the same academic circles. 

He didn’t know their team, but he did know they managed to hype up a crowd in 20-degree cold, which was impressive in its own right. 

But he hadn’t noticed her then…not until after the game. 

Not while she was screaming, smiling, laughing, or flying through the air...when most people noticed her. 

He didn’t notice her until after the game. 

He and his team had been walking toward the locker room, hoping around excitedly, high on their victory, when they heard a ruckus, a high shout of protest, an angry shout, followed by the immature oohs of a group who had seen the start of a fight.

Katsuki, along with Shitty Hair and Deku, paused outside the tunnel, turning just in time to see one of the cheerleaders — Round Face, he called her mentally on the rare times he saw her and needed a designation — shove Mineta away from the small group of cheerleaders who remained to clean up their supplies.

Mineta, he was familiar with. 

That asshole had played for UA for a year before he got expelled. Katsuki hadn’t been concerned enough to find out all the details, just that he had been expelled after harassing the goalie on the girl’s team. He didn’t know her name, just knew she could jump like a damn frog and had incredible hands for a goalie. Mineta had been a shit person and shit teammate, so he hadn’t missed him.

“Jeez, Uraraka, no need to be jealous….” Mineta looked her up and down. “Just because Yaoyoruza was in a particularly grabbable position doesn’t mean I don’t have eyes for you too.”

The round-faced girl surged forward, but Ponytail grabbed her by the arm and held her back. 

“Ochako,” she warned. 

Ochako. Ochako Uraraka. 

He had heard her name but hadn’t placed it necessarily until that moment, and what he had heard and briefly witnessed during pep rallies and at events did not match what he was seeing now from her. 

It wasn't sweetness or bubbliness or cuteness...

He saw fierce, determined rage. 

“What is that asshole doing?” growled Shitty Hair.

Katsuki wasn’t one to run headfirst into messes that had nothing to do with him…that was Deku. Deku believed everything concerned him. 

So, of course, Deku was the first to approach.

And while Katsuki may not have that instinct in the same way and was good at minding his own business, he sure as fuck wasn’t the type to back down from a fight, especially one with a perverted expellee…at their school.

They approached, along with a few of Mineta’s teammates coming up behind him, some herd mentality being set off in their respective groups as they suddenly materialized, all of them with a stupid kind of “they can’t expel us all” confidence. 

“Still nursing a grudge, I see,” said Mineta, leering at Round Face and moving closer to her, closing the distance between them with more confidence than he should have. “Which hardly seems fair; in fact, I’d say you owe me an apology for the last time we saw each other.”

“You know, the best way to ask for an apology,” said Eijiro, coming up behind her. “A passive-aggressive DM, not by cornering someone on a football field like you’re a character from West Side Story.” 

“Kirishima,” greeted Mineta as though they were old friends. “Hey, man! Good to see you.”

Eijiro snorted in disdain. 

“The only one I owed an apology to was Tsu,” Round Face returned. “For failing to actually break your snotty little nose the first time.”

Now that she mentioned it, Katsuki remembered him coming to practice with a very bruised nose and some half-cocked story about how he had gotten mugged but had managed to fight off his attackers. He had known it was BS but hadn't ever heard the real story.

“Now, apologize to Momo,” she growled.

“Ochako,” said Ponytail. “Really…really, it’s not necessary.” 

“Yes,” snapped Round Face, her fists clenching tightly, and fuck it…the rage-filled flash of her eyes had Katsuki mesmerized. “Yes, it is. It is very necessary. But…I’m probably giving the little prick too much credit that he’s even capable of that. So…” she moved to turn away from him, but Mineta, seeming to have a death wish, reached out and grabbed her wrist. 

“I’m still waiting on my apology….”

“Hey!" Deku surged forward and shoved Mineta away fiercely. Probably the right move, but still, Katsuki wouldn’t have minded seeing the way Round Face would have reacted. She was like a powder keg, one match away from exploding, and he couldn’t help but wonder what that looked like. “Back off, Mineta," growled Deku. "Back off and walk away.”

Deku had shot up after his first year, and Mineta had the good sense to drop Round Face’s hand.

“Fine,” said Mineta, stepping away with a sneer, hands held up in mock surrender.

Deku stepped back, too, always willing to fight and always willing to let a fight go without violence if it was possible. 

Round Face, on the other hand, looked like she was ready to throw hands at the slightest provocation. 

He appreciated that in a person. 

And, of course, Mineta being Mineta, offered that provocation on a silver platter. 

“Make sure you give Tsu my love, Ochako,” he called out, eyebrows wiggling and tone dripping with disgusting suggestiveness. “Tell her how much I miss those big, beautiful….”

And before Deku or anyone else could have intervened, Ochako lunged forward, throwing all of her weight behind a hard right hook, and, if she failed to break his nose the first time, Katsuki couldn’t imagine that she did that time. 

But apparently, that wasn’t enough for her because she let out a feral scream and leaped at him in one of the sexiest displays of animal rage he had seen, tackling him to the ground. 

“Get off of me, you crazy bitch!” 

“KICK HIS ASS, URARAKA!” cheered Eijiro. 

And Katsuki was content to let her do just that until Mineta’s team surged forward. Until that moment, Katsuki had been prepared to extend to her the professional courtesy he would want if he was in a fight…to be left the fuck alone. But, for some reason, the minute he saw one of Mineta’s teammates move to pull Ochako off of Mineta, the minute he came close to touching her, something that made no sense tripped inside Katsuki. 

He ran forward, shoulder-checking the Ketsubutsu player away from her. 

“Kacchan! The teachers are coming!”

Katsuki, of all people, couldn’t be caught in a fight. He had come a long way since his first year, but still, he needed to watch himself, or he could easily lose his spot on the team. So he hurried toward Ochako, wrapped an arm around her waist, and hoisted her off Mineta. Though it wasn’t easy to hold her still as she kicked and flailed about in his arms. 

It was also hard not to grin like an idiot at the way she was ready to take on a whole-ass soccer team on her own if needed.

“That bitch broke my nose!” sobbed Mineta, scrambling to his feet and holding both hands to his face. 

“Get on your damn bus, Mineta,” she yelled, still kicking as Katsuki backed away with her in tow. “Or I’ll break something else!” 

Katsuki choked on his own laugh as an angry Eijiro and ruffled Tenya formed a blockade between them. 

“Better do as she says,” called Katsuki. “Unless you want me to put her down.” 

“PUT ME DOWN!” she said, thrashing forward with enough strength not to get free but to make Katsuki slip in the mud, sending them both crashing to the ground. Him, ass first, and her in his lap.

There had been a moment, then, when she looked like she was about to yell at him, and he wasn’t sure what part of him got a little excited at the prospect, but he was sure it wasn’t something that he wanted to explore…especially not with her in his lap. 

But then, that moment never came. They sat there in the mud for a moment, her looking up at him, something stopping her words before they came out. 

And, he really had been an idiot then because when she said, with a kind of knowing smile on her face, “ Well, look at you ,” he should have known exactly what she meant. 

Maybe it was because he had been too distracted by the movement of her mouth, by her face, smeared with mud and dirt, by the embers of rage that still burned in her eyes. 

It would continue to be a problem for him…staying focused when she looked at him like that. 

He wasn’t sure what happened after that or why she had looked at him all pleased and puzzled, as if she had just found a long-lost friend, all he knew was after that day, he couldn’t quite shake her. 

No matter how much he pretended to try. 

“Hey, Bakugo!” she would say, waving across a crowd of people. The crowds parted for her like she was the moon controlling the movement of the tides without even knowing she could. “I need help with my physics again!”

He only found out later that physics was her best subject. 

Wiley, little minx. 

“Hey, Bakugo! Can I sit here? ” she would say as she slid into the spot beside him at the lunch tables, and his teammates would look at him, absolutely befuddled because most of them had asked her out at least once, only to be rejected. 

And before he knew it, they were studying together after school. 

She would hang out in the library with him while he worked on a project. 

He could’ve sworn she started cheering extra loud…for the whole team, sure, but definitely for him. 

And he wasn’t supposed to care about stuff like that, but dammit, he did. 

Liked it enough for him to get scolded more than once for “showing off in front of your little girlfriend,” according to assistant coach Todoroki. 

But still, even then, he didn’t quite know what was going on. 

Because she was Ochako Uraraka. 

Beautiful. 

Funny. 

Kind. 

Friends with everyone, including Toga and her band of weirdos who liked to stand outside the school acting all hard. 

“I can’t believe you haven’t asked her out yet!” 

Katsuki glared up at his shitty-haired spotter. “Why the fuck would I do that?” he said on his exhale and upward push. Eijiro’s hands went under it on the off chance that it was dropped. 

“Because…” shouted Dunce-Face from the leg press beside him. “Somehow, you, a gremlin from the black lagoon….”

“Oi!” 

“Don’t listen to him, man,” said Eijiro, patting his head. “You’re shaped like a Dorito and have magnificent tits, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. That’s why Uraraka fell for you!”

Katsuki sat up on the bench and looked between his teammates. 

“You too?! She didn’t fall for me; y’all are making up shit because you’re bored.”

“Nooope,” said Hanta, seeming to pop out of nowhere. “We have very busy lives; what is boring is watching that girl practically beg you to hold her hand for you to constantly miss the memo, especially when plenty of us would be more than happy for the honor.”

Katsuki glared at Hanta, the very thought of anyone else holding her hand provoking a disconcerting response from somewhere deep inside of him. 

Well, that wasn’t a good sign.

“She’s like that with everyone,” he said, wiping his hands on his shorts before laying back down on the bench. “Ain’t nothin’ special about the way she treats me.”

An odd statement to make because he felt like there was something special, but he imagined that was how everyone felt around her. It was her superpower…making everyone feel special.

And he was content thinking that because to think that she wanted him. 

To think that maybe they were more than friends…well, he hadn’t known what to do with that then. He was just a dumb kid, after all. 

Still stumbling through emotions that seemed to come so naturally to Ochako.

Everyone who spent more than a few hours with Ochako were probably a little in love with her, so his feelings (if he had them) certainly weren’t special. 

Because he had no doubt that she meant it every time she said it, to whoever she said it. There wasn’t an inauthentic bone in her body, so of course, she meant it. 

But for him…he didn’t think it about everyone. 

He didn’t want to sit with everyone. 

He didn’t seek out everyone’s laugh or gaze when he was in a room with him. 

He didn’t let anyone lean into his shoulder in a booth. 

All of it was special for him…all of it was unique for him. 

Everything he felt for her took up a unique and formerly unoccupied place in his being.

At least, he thought that had been the case until, in a fit of expressive joy, she had declared him her favorite person. 

It had made him happy, then it had made him confused, and he poked gently at it, trying to determine if she meant it. Like really meant it in the way that he did when he thought it. 

It had been when things turned for him. 

Ever since that day that he had dragged her away from a fight, he had watched her. But he had been watching all of her…carefully, consideringly. But not for anything specific. But when he started looking for that something …that difference…he was convinced maybe he was as stupid as his teammates accused him. 

Yes, she was kind to everyone. 

But she teased him. 

Yes, she was touchy-feely with everyone.

But her hand kept landing near his, her pinky twitching, her leg pressed against his. 

Yes, she was generous with everyone.

But she asked from him.

“Can I wear your jacket? It’s cold.”

“Can I have a chip?”

“I’m sick; can you make me soup?”

“Can you help me with my English homework…” (that at least she really did need help with).

And Deku had been the one to tell him just what a big deal that was. 

“She was starving herself to save money the whole first year of high school,” Deku had told him. “She has a weird complex about asking for help, like she’s terrified of being a burden. You aren’t wrong that she’s sweet and affectionate with everyone, but asking you for help…that I promise you she doesn’t do with everyone.” 

And two weeks after her declaration in the hallway, the one that had stopped in his tracks, they were sitting together at lunch. She was chatting happily with Shitty Hair and Pinky about something that was in no way, shape, or form registering because his blood was roaring in his ears, his heart pounding in his chest, somehow, at lunch, finding himself more terrified than he has ever been in his life. 

And then, she turned to look at him, mid-laugh, checking to see if he was laughing too like she hoped to find him laughing. He didn’t particularly care for his laugh, he was convinced it was quite awkward and unattractive, and it didn’t fit him in the least, but she seemed to love it. 

And then, just like that, both hands under the table, without fanfare and without a second thought, he reached for her hand beneath the table, catching the side of it awkwardly in his own. He hadn’t been able to see her hand, so of course, he had fucked it up. 

But, smooth as fuckin’ butter, without breaking conversation, without even skipping a beat, she turned her palm into his, catching his fingers in hers under the table and tangling them together. A surge of excitement shot through his whole body. 

His face flushed, and there had been no chance that he would be able to form another word through the rest of lunch; he couldn’t focus on anything other than her hand, her soft palm, the brush of the callous on her pinky against his fingers, how small it was in his… all of it. 

All while she seemed entirely unphased. 

And for him, that felt like a confirmation. 

A confirmation of all of it. 

Both the all-consuming way he felt it in his body and the way she didn’t even bat an eye — like she had just been waiting on him to catch up to where she had already known they were heading. 

It had been over him when she decked that asshole.

And it was over, all over again, for him when she held his hand. 

…when she kissed him for the first time. 

…when he kissed her for the first time. 

…the first time he told her that he loved her. 

Over and over again, it was over for him. 

So, was it any wonder that he never moved on?

Was it any wonder that he was torn between wanting to run away entirely and wanting to just wait outside in the freezing cold so he could talk to her as soon as she arrived. 

“Would it be so bad to see her?”

He subconsciously reached for his keys in his pocket, his finger finding the slightly larger key than all the other ones. It wasn’t a key to anything, at least not that he knew. 

Simple, silver, with words etched along the long end.

“Wherever is your heart, I call home.” 

He hadn’t opened the gift while he was home. 

He didn’t dare open it until he was back at school because he was sure if he opened it when she gave it to him, he would run back to her right away. And that wouldn’t be fair…to her or him.

But him keeping it, him putting the key on his keychain, that only hurt him. So…that was okay, he supposed. No one had to know.

The door opened again, and his gaze jerked up. 

It was Shinsou and Dunce Face. 

His heartbeat settled just a little. 

Maybe…seeing her wouldn’t be so bad. 

He wondered if her hair had changed.

Were her cheeks round and pink as ever? He liked to think so. 

Were her feet perpetually devoid of shoes?

Did she have a partner now? 

It seemed like a silly question…of course she did. He had told Eijiro he didn’t want to know shit like that, and his wishes had been respected, but he thought for a moment about what he would do if she showed up with someone else.  

He knew he wasn’t allowed to have feelings about that.

But he knew he would. 

He was self-aware. 

Would it be so bad to see her? 

He wasn’t sure. 

He wasn’t good at guessing shit like that. 

He had no idea how hard it was going to be not to see her. 

###

It was an odd twist of fate, it seemed, that Ochako had been dreading the Christmas party for weeks, ever since Mina had told her that Katsuki may be there. As a paramedic, hers wasn’t a job you could in good conscious wish for an emergency, but she had been hoping for something that would delay her obligation to show up at the party. 

Sure, she could just tell Mina she didn’t want to go if Katsuki was going to be there. 

But then she would lose. 

Lose what, she wasn’t sure, but she would lose. He would show up, looking cool and collected and calm as ever, and he wouldn’t even notice she wasn’t there until someone mentioned it casually. 

And, in that moment, Katsuki would know that she had made a choice not to be there, and he and everyone there would know why. No one would fault her; no one would judge her; but everyone would know. 

So, she had to show up. 

No matter how hard it was going to be. 

No matter how stupid that boy made her; no matter how breathless his perfect face, his perfect voice, the perfect way he looked at her left her. One look at her, and he would be able to read all of that. 

He had always been good about seeing what no one else could see in her. 

“Have you had water today, Cheek?” He would ask with just the briefest flash of exhaustion in her eyes. Probably not. 

“Rough day at work, Angel?” He would ask when all she did was say his name over the phone. There had been a lot of those then. But now, as a paramedic, there were days that left her near catatonic. He had always known what to do, and there were days when the urge to call him had been so overwhelming that she had to turn off her phone altogether and leave her apartment without it. 

He would look at her once and know just how pathetic she was. 

So, you see, her reticence was understandable. 

And to see him at Christmas?

…Well, that was just insult to injury. 

They had made it one semester of long distance. 

He made it back to spend Christmas Eve with her.

But, the past few conversations on the phone had gotten shorter and sadder, sparse and distant.

His studies and football schedule were ridiculously demanding, and between her work as an EMT and starting her two-year degree program to be a paramedic, hers was no better. 

Neither of them had ever been good at half-assing anything. 

And when he pulled up in front of her house when she ran out to meet him, he had held her for a long time, her hands had dug into his jacket, and there was no less love than there had been when he had left, but they both knew what needed to happen. 

Oddly enough. 

They didn’t even break up with each other…not really. 

It was like neither could bring themselves to say the words.

He had spent the night holding her and being held by her, their legs tangled as she buried her tears in the soft cotton of the turtle-neck sweater that he looked so damn good in. 

“I’m so sorry,” he had whispered into her ear, the strain of it making her cling tighter to him. 

“I’m sorry too,” she had returned. “You’re still my very favorite person.”

For so many reasons. 

For more reasons than she could count. 

Because he had fallen for her with blood dripping down her nose and covered in mud…not while she was smiling or jumping around or laughing. Not because she was bright and bubbly and sweet. Those had always been true parts of her, yes. But, at school especially, sometimes it felt like that was all she was expected to be. Voted UA’s sweetheart for the past two years and a shoo-in for the third year. When boys asked her out, it was with the expectation that she would be that…sweet, cute, pretty, amenable, and unintrusive... a decoration in their life. It was why she rarely made it past a third date and, by her third year, had never had a serious relationship with anyone. 

She had told him that the first time before they were even dating. She had aced her English test, and in the middle of the hallway, not giving a fuck who was looking, she ran toward him, all giddy and happy.

His eyes had widened as he stepped away from her, “The fuck are you doing?”

She had thrown her arms around his neck. 

“I did it!” she exclaimed, jumping up a little, her feet coming off the ground. 

He had stood there for a moment, unmoving and stiff as a board, and she had wondered briefly if she had overstepped. She thought, after four months of tutoring, of eating lunch together, of randomly showing up to school with a tea in hand for her, that he would consider her someone he liked. 

He had even smiled at her a few times. Not big or beaming in that way she was accustomed to from the people she usually hung out with, but in a way that was so uniquely him. 

She had thought…maybe…maybe there was a chance he could like her as much as she liked him. 

She had been about to let go of him, to step away, and shake off whatever weird disappointment had stirred in her chest when he didn’t gather her in his arms and kiss her with the same intensity that he did everything else…

Not that he would ever do that. 

That would be stupid.

She didn’t even know why that idea even came to mind. 

They were just friends. 

But then, as her arms slid from around his neck, he acted suddenly, gathering her back against him with urgency. 

Before that moment, she had wondered what it would feel like…to be pressed up against the body she had spent more than her fair share of time sneaking glances of. 

She had expected the firm, hard lines of muscle, the firmness of him. 

What she hadn’t expected was the warmth of him, how much she wanted to sigh into him and curl into that warmth. 

“Good job, Cheeks,” he muttered before releasing her. 

She let go reluctantly and went back to her feet. When she released his neck, she couldn’t help but pull her hands away last. They lingered momentarily against his chest before she dropped them completely. 

She smiled up at him. 

“Thank you, Bakugo.”

“Tch…I didn’t pass the test,” he said. “You did.”

“Because of you!” 

He rolled his eyes and continued to walk toward his class, and she had fallen in beside him, her hands swinging next to him.

So close, she had wondered then what it would feel like to hold his hand before then too. They were just…distractingly big. 

“Just a tutor, Uraraka,” he said. “Not a big deal.”

Her heart sank. 

She wondered if that was how he saw himself. 

Just a tutor. 

Is that all she was to him? Someone he tutored?

He had frustrated her so much in the beginning. He was so direct and so easy to read in so many ways, but she didn’t quite know where she stood to him. 

Izuku, who had spotted her crush quickly, had told her that he had never seen Katsuki be weak for someone the way he was for her; he had never seen him bend for someone the way he did for her. 

That had given her hope at the beginning when her confusing crush had bloomed out of the odd and unexpected friendship that had sprung between the two of them. 

“You’re not just a tutor, Bakugo,” she had said, moving to stand in front of him, blocking his forward path. His eyes narrowed at her. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked. 

“You’re not just a tutor,” she said with a fervent nod. 

He bent at the waist a little, bringing herself eye-to-eye with her. “You got that stupid look on your face.” 

Her brow furrowed. “What stupid look?!”

He brought his knuckles up to her face and tapped them gently against her forehead. “That look that you get before a competition or when you’re trying to convince me ‘to do my best.’” She laughed at the way he mimicked her voice before returning to that look; her “I mean business” Look. 

“Because I mean it, Bakugo.” It took everything in her not to call him by his given name. “You’re not just a tutor! You’re…” She had seen the slight downward jerk of his gaze, that last word tripping something in him. “You’re my very favorite person!”

She had expected him to roll his eyes at that and pat her head as he passed her. But he didn’t. He moved closer, so close she could see every speck of intensity in his eyes, and every last bit of it focused on her in a way that knocked the wind out of her. 

He opened his mouth to say something but then closed it and cast his gaze sideways from her. “You shouldn’t say shit like that, Uraraka.” He sounded almost a little sad…not something she was used to hearing in his voice.  

Why?

Why wouldn’t she tell him the truth? 

They always told each other the truth. 

Before she could ask why, the final bell rang, and he had straightened up to full height. 

“Get to class, dummy.”

Two weeks later, over a bowl of ramen after practice, he had asked her out…in his own Katsuki way. 

Face red and eyes fixed on his food, he told her, “You’re my favorite person too, ya know.”

And two and half years later found her crying in his arms, and that fact remained unchanged between them. 

It was no one’s fault, and that made moving on so much harder. 

She hadn’t dated anyone before Katsuki, but she wondered if having some kind of outlet of rage or blame would have helped her to move on.

She wasn’t sure.

But how was she supposed to move on when he never stopped being her favorite person? 

She had no idea how she was supposed to go about falling out of love with her best friend. 

He had left that night at 3 am, and when he let go of her, she was sure her heart would shatter into a million pieces and all the tears that she thought she had cried out, that she had soaked his sweater with, fell fresh and hot and every bit as painful as she walked him out. 

Wordlessly. 

Because there was nothing to be said. 

If she spoke, she knew she would ask him if they should try again…try to make it work.

And that wouldn’t be fair to either of them.

They were young. 

They had dreams and goals, and what were the odds that your high school sweetheart would be the love of your life? What if she kept him away from his? 

She hugged him once more, not near as long or as hard as she had when he arrived. And she pulled away from him without a word. He had looked like he wanted to say something to her, but she knew he was fighting the same battle she was in that moment. 

And if he asked her to keep trying…she would. 

She watched him go to his car, body rigid and trembling, before he had even shut the door of his car, she had gone inside. She passed her glittering Christmas tree; she almost didn’t even look twice at it (unheard of), but the sight of it from the corner of her eye made her pause. 

Shit.

She hurried toward the tree and swiped up the gift with his name on the bottom, and turned toward the window. His lights were on, but he hadn’t left yet.

She ran out into the yard, not even registering that she had neglected her shoes.

He always got onto her about her shoes. 

Told her she was going to get tetanus or necrotizing fasciitis.

And the thought of never hearing him scold her for her shoes being off made her choke on a sob. 

“Katsuki!” she cried out, her voice breaking through, almost hysterical. 

She hadn’t known why at the time. 

It was a stupid present. 

In high school, she had always given him homemade (or baked) presents. She had been working as an EMT for seven months at that time and had been excited to buy him a gift, even when she felt the end coming. She had thought maybe they would make it until the summer. 

But still. She had picked it out for him. And in that moment, she felt as though getting that present into his hands was more important than anything else she could possibly do. She needed to get it to him. 

“Katsuki!” 

She waved her arms, trying to flag him down as his car drove away.

Maybe it was for the best. 

Maybe it would just make things harder. 

Maybe…

He pulled over and opened his door, and turned toward her, the white clouds of his breath rising in front of him, lights twinkling behind him. 

Beautiful. 

Perfect. 

If that moment had been a movie, that would have been it. The moment that they would run into each other’s arms and decide to fight for each other. 

The music would swell.

They would kiss. 

The credits would roll. 

Well, it was half right, she supposed. 

She did run to him. 

He looked…so sad. Sadder than she had ever seen him look, and Katsuki was the kind of person on whom sadness was devastating because he wore it so completely when he felt it. 

“Ochako,” he said, his eyes darting down to her feet. “What are you doing out here without your shoes?”

She laughed, except it didn’t sound at all like a laugh. It was painful and ragged from the cold. 

“I…I needed…to…” To tell you that I love you. “To give you….” to beg you not to leave me. Each unsaid word clogged the next. “...your Christmas present.”

She raised the neatly wrapped little box to him, keeping her eyes fixed on the little bow and the tag with his name written across it. 

He didn’t take it right away, and she had feared that maybe he was going to reject it. Not out of cruelty, but maybe out of self-protection. She took a deep breath, summoning up the courage to look at him. 

And she had immediately wished she hadn’t. 

He was looking at her with so much softness, so much adoration, so much love…because nothing had changed. They were still each other’s favorite person.

“Ochako…” his voice wavered, and hers strengthened because that was their practice; when one was weak, the other would show up. 

She smiled through her tears and took his hand, and then placed the box there. “Please,” she said. “It’s a gift. I want you to have it.” 

He looked down briefly at the gift and then back to her, and before either of them could think twice, he drew her up and into him, one hand at the small of her back and the other tangled in her hair. 

He had kissed her in a way he had never kissed her before then. And he had kissed her…well, a lot of ways. But never like that. Never so desperately, never as though it would kill him if he didn’t do anything else. She didn’t even know someone could kiss her like that or hold her like that. 

She never would have dreamed she could make anyone feel so much. And being reminded that she could, in that moment, felt like a gift in its own right. 

When he pulled away, he didn’t loosen his hold on her. His forehead dropped to hers, and he took a slow, steadying breath. “I love you, Ochako.”

She knew that. 

“I love you, Katsuki.”

“Now,” he said, clearing his throat and releasing her for what she feared would be the last time. His knuckles went up and wrapped gently at her forehead. “Get your ass back inside before your toes get frostbite.”

She snorted, attractive, she was sure, given her very snotty state. It had been the hardest thing she had ever done, watching him drive away, but she had done it…somehow.

She had thought it would only get better from then on out. She had been wrong. So very wrong. 

That Christmas had been…hard to say the least. 

She went through the motion of Christmas with her parents, trying desperately not to ruin it for everyone else. And that meant excusing herself every other hour to cry. 

She went to Mina’s holiday party that year but spent pretty much the whole time in the bathroom like a pathetic loser because it was all too much. The second time, she managed to actually socialize, but when she saw Eijiro, she almost cried. Because she had cheered him and Katsuki on together, and it felt wrong to see him without the other. But still, that second Christmas had been better.

She had loved Christmas before. 

And she hated that it just didn’t feel quite right anymore. She knew it wouldn’t feel like that forever. But by this Christmas (two years since their breakup), she had thought that maybe she would have moved on.

A notion she was disabused of as soon as she found out that Katsuki may be at the party.

She had smiled and nodded and told Mina, who was looking at her suspiciously as she rambled on about how great it was. 

“Of course! He should be there! I’m glad he’s coming home. I bet he’s been working so hard.” 

…All the while trying to plan how she could now say no to a party she had insisted the week before that she would be at. 

And now, it was a cruel irony that she wasn’t even sure she was going to make it out of this night alive. 

Christmas used to be her favorite time of year.

And now, she wondered if maybe she had done something to piss off the Christmas gods.

Because now, there was literally nowhere else she would rather be than at the party.

And not because the asphalt was freezing or because the smell of the gas was making her head hurt, or because she could taste her own blood, or because her ears were ringing. 

Well, sure, that was part of it. 

But it was more than that. 

It wasn’t that she would rather be there.

It had more to do with the clarity that was hurdling toward her like the headlights of a car she could see turning the corner now on this pitch-black road – something that maybe should have been clear well before this.

It had to mean something, right? That two years later, about to die under two tons of twisted metal of an overturned minivan, her last thoughts were of Katsuki. 

###

Katsuki had thought seeing her would be the worst thing that could happen to him, for a moment. 

Then he thought, maybe…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. 

Two hours after the party started. 

Still no Ochako. 

He had been working himself up the whole night, driving himself crazy every time he heard a car door shut or the door open. 

Every time he heard greetings or exclamations from a part of the room, he would turn, thinking maybe he had missed her…impossible, really, but still… 

And then, suddenly, in one moment, everything changed. Everything that he thought was the worst thing that could happen, any conception of the most painful or most terrifying thing that could happen to him, went out the window when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

It was a local number, but not one that he recognized. 

And being the old man that he was and preferring phone calls to text messages, he answered it without thinking. 

“Bakugo here.”

“Katsuki Bakugo?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “Who are you?”

“I’m Yasunori Shimano, and I work at Daiyu hospital.”

He sat up abruptly. 

Shit. 

Was it his mom? His dad? His grandpa? He hadn’t been doing well lately, Katsuki knew. He had planned to see him while he was home. 

“Ochako Uraraka was admitted today, and we can’t seem to get a hold of any of her next of kin. You were her third emergency contact, and we….”

“Where is she?” he snapped, already heading to the door, ignoring Eijiro’s curious and worried calls.

“She was just brought in after an accident while she was on the job, and there haven’t been any updates yet, but I am trying to get a hold of her parents.”

“I’m coming now.”

“Mr. Bakugo, it may not be necessary. The roads are very dangerous right now, and I am just trying to get in contact with her….”

“Then hang up on me and keep calling them!” he said, ending the call and stepping out into the icy, dark night. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

“Hey, Bakugo!” He was vaguely aware of Eijiro behind him, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling on him. “What’s going on?”

“I…I…I have to go! Now !” he said, shoving him off and moving around to the driver’s side of the car. 

“Is this…because of Uraraka?” he asked, clearly confused at the sudden urgency. “Look, man, I’m sorry, I really didn’t know that it would —.” 

“Ei!” he interrupted suddenly. “Please, this…” He didn’t have time. He really didn’t. Because what if this was it? What if she was hurt? “I’m going to see her now.”

Eijiro looked even more confused. “But she’s….”

“I just got a call from the hospital,” he continued, his grip on the frame of his car growing progressively more painful and tight. “There was an accident at work, and I just…I…I….”

He what ?

She wasn’t his girlfriend.

They hadn’t spoken in two years. 

Of course, no matter what, he would care if she got hurt. That was normal. She was one of the best people in the world. 

But was this normal? Was it normal that he couldn’t breathe? Was it normal that his whole body was shaking? Was it normal that he felt suddenly like his whole chest would collapse if he didn’t get to her right now? 

“I need to get to her, Eijiro.”

Eijiro looked at him, a mix of worry and anxiety as he looked over his shoulder and back to Katsuki. “Okay, man, okay, but you have to let me drive you, okay?” It was a question, but it wasn’t. “The roads are dangerous tonight even if your head is on straight, and my tires are better than yours, so I’m going to take you.”

Katsuki moved without protest toward Eijiro’s truck. There was no time to argue now.

No time. 

No time . 

Maybe he had always thought, somehow, someway, they would find their way back to each other; maybe that was why he never allowed himself to move on, maybe that was why it hadn’t worked with anyone since her. 

But what if he had been wrong about that too.

What if there was no more time? 

What if this was it? 

Then what would happen? What would he do then?

“Come on,” said Eijiro. “She at Daiyu?” Katsuki nodded. “We’ll be there in 15 minutes, man, okay?”

He spoke gently, softly, but not cloying…a way that Eijiro knew how to speak to him. 

Usually, it went far in calming him down. 

Usually, he didn’t panic at all. 

He wasn’t someone who spiraled or panicked in an emergency. 

But he was panicked now. 

His hands gripped his keys as he climbed into the truck. His thumb traced the key, the one he knew by memory. 

“Wherever is your heart, I call home.”

She had etched that two years ago. 

She had meant it then, and whether she meant it now…well, that was irrelevant because it was still true for him. 

He meant it now, and he meant it always. 

She was his home. 

He hadn’t been stupid then…letting her go. 

Neither of them had been stupid for that decision. 

They had both needed it, no matter how hard it had been. And they had both flourished, he was sure. It had been hard as hell; it had been torture for at least 2 months, not getting to talk to her or hear her voice or hold her hand. But he had done it. 

He had survived that. 

And she had just settled inside of him, a bittersweet and wonderful thing he held onto without even knowing it completely. 

Now he did know it. 

He knew now that he had never let go. 

And it would be okay if she didn’t feel the same, as long as she was in the world, alive and breathing and feeling something. That would be enough. That would be more than enough. 

Eijiro got him there in 13 minutes, pulling to the front and letting him get out while he found a place to park. 

He hadn’t been stupid then...for saying goodbye. 

But it would be stupid to walk away this time, to walk away without telling her what had always been true. 

“Wherever is your heart, I call home.”

He approached the front desk hurriedly, hands gripping the edge. 

“Yes, how can I help you?” asked the man behind the desk; Katsuki was vaguely sure that it was the man who had called him. 

“I’m Katsuki Bakugo,” he said. “You called me about Ochako Uraraka.”

“Ah yes,” he said, his voice not as urgent as Katsuki thought it should be. “I managed to get a hold of her parents, and they are spending the holidays at a beach house 10 hours away, so they assured me that it was fine to let you back to see her.”

Katsuki froze abruptly. “See her? She…I can see her?”

The man looked at him, puzzled. “Of course,” he said. “You can go back right now; she’s in room 204.”

Katsuki didn’t know what was happening or why his knees were shaking, or why he suddenly felt like he needed to throw up, but all of it hit him at once. 

“She…she’s not…she’s awake and everything?”

A look of familiar recognition crossed the man’s face. “Yes,” he said, his voice warm and assuring. “Yes. She’s going to be just fine. She’s banged up and has two broken collar bones, but she’s going to be okay.”

Katsuki was barely aware of his legs carrying him past the doors that the man buzzed him through. But they were getting the job done, he supposed, when he could barely think straight as all of the anxiety and relief and adrenalize flooded through him in a dizzying cocktail that overwhelmed all of his senses.

But, like muscle memory, he sought her out.

And, as was often the case, he heard her before he saw her. 

“OWWW! OWW! OWEEEEII!”

“Would you calm down, Ochako!” 

“It hurts!”

“Yeah, two broken collar bones with do that,” returned a scolding voice. 

Katsuki paused a moment in the doorway just as a nurse tugged back on a brace, pulling her shoulders back. He had seen those before on his teammates when they had broken collarbones too. He didn’t know what he expected. 

She looked like shit…pale and bedraggled under unflattering fluorescent lights, a bandage on her cheek and at her hairline, and various small cuts on her face and arms. 

But it was her. 

Talking. 

Eyes still bright (though tired).

Cheeks till pink under the bandage. 

Perfect. 

His home.

“Just be happy they were clean breaks, and you don’t need surgery,” continued the nurse. 

“Yeah…yeah…yeah…” she muttered petulantly. 

“After pulling a stupid stunt like that,” added the nurse, looking at her with a worried reprimand in her eyes…no doubt someone Ochako had worked with more than once, considering the familiar way she was talking to her. 

“Would you get off my back, Nejire?!”

“Nope,” said the nurse, jotting something down on her tablet. “Not until you stop making dumb decisions.”

“What was I supposed to do?” beseeched Ochako.

“How about wait until the flares are actually out before crawling into an overturned car on a dark, icy road?”

Fuckin’ hell, Cheeks. 

“They were on a curve!” Ochako protested. “There may not have been time! They could have died in that amount of time.”

“Yeah,” said the nurse, swatting Ochako on the head with her pen. “And so could you, stupid!

You’re just lucky the car just rolled with you in it instead of getting plowed by a semi.”

She rolled her eyes again. 

“Look,” she said. “I know it was stupid, but the car seats were jammed, and I was the only one who could crawl into the car, so….”

Her eyes finally caught his, cutting her off mid-sentence. 

And somehow — impossibly, Katsuki may say — she didn’t look surprised. 

Relieved. 

Tentative. 

Curious. 

Maybe a little confused. 

Like how she had looked at him on that field when he had dragged her away from that fight. 

But not surprised. 

Ready . 

Always ready for him. 

“Well,” she said, her voice a little tight and rough. “Look at you.”

Katsuki was vaguely aware of the nurse seeing herself out of the room as he approached Ochako faster than he meant, actively keeping himself from touching her, grabbing her, and shaking her for being so goddamn stupid and reckless. But he stopped himself…in part because of her injuries and in part because he didn’t even know if she wanted him to. 

“I uh…I didn’t know I was your emergency contact,” he started. 

She inhaled and looked down at her hands, slightly sheepish. “Yeah, sorry about that. I actually didn’t know either. I never updated it after…” her voice trailed off, not needing to finish it. “I guess I haven’t had a job-related emergency until now, so I forgot.” She bit her lip, her eyes still cast down. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.”

Ever . 

“Sounds like you pulled some really stupid shit today, Ochako.”

He couldn’t address her by her family name, no matter how much time or distance had been created between them. She would never be just Uraraka to him ever again. 

She shrugged, toying with the edge of her hospital gown. “You gonna scold me too?”

“No,” he answered abruptly. Because he had loved her when she was raging and throwing punches and kicks at a whole soccer team to protect her friend. “But,” he continued seriously, stepping closer. “You damn well better keep me your emergency contact if you’re gonna keep doing shit like that.”

Her brow furrowed, eyes going back to him. 

“Why?”

A simple enough question, but it held so much. His heart hammered in his chest, the same way it had when he had taken her hand for the first time. 

The first time he hadn’t surprised her. 

His hand went up to her cheek, cupping it softly, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. She didn’t look surprised, ever, as her eyes shone with tears. 

He wouldn’t surprise her. 

How could he?

He was her home, too, after all. 

You didn’t get surprised by your home…by which knob makes the water hot or cold…by which burner you use on your stove…by which remote you have to hit into your palm to make work... by the give of your bed or the size of your closet. 

It was a place you could go to over and over and over again. 

And she knew him like that, the twists and turns and hallways of him. 

Her home.

His home.

Fuck…fuck…fuck…he was so damn homesick. 

“Oh, Katsuki…” She moved to raise her hand to him but dropped it immediately with a wince of pain. 

“Don’t,” he said hoarsely, dropping his forehead to hers. “Don’t…I… I…” she waited patiently as he struggled for what to say. “I was really worried about you.”

She didn’t look surprised. She knew that. Of course she knew that. 

“I worry about you too, Katsuki.” 

She always had… in her own way. 

“Are you sleeping enough? You look tired.” Often accompanied by a head scratch. 

“Are you taking your meds?” She would say it when he lashed out or withdrew or was pushing himself too hard…when that tunnel vision would set in that made it impossible for him to see anything else. 

“Unclench your jaw, babe. You’re grinding your teeth.” She would reach to him and tap his jaw under the ear. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he said with a bitter laugh (except it was, it was exactly what he meant, she was always there, always inside of him in some way, orienting some part of him toward her). 

Always with him.

Always on her mind. 

It wasn’t just about the fact that he thought he would never get to see her again. It was the fact that he always wanted to see her, always. 

“I’m really happy you’re here,” she said, playfully butting his head. “I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah,” he said, his hand cupping up to cup her cheek. “You could have just called, didn’t have to go through all of this.”

She laughed, a soft sweet sound that he never wanted to miss again. “What would you have done?” she asked. “I called?”

“Tch…what do you think?” He assumed that was why she didn’t call. The same reason he didn’t. 

He would have come. 

They had thought that would go away, that instinct to move toward each other. But it didn’t. And that had to mean something, right? 

“Shitty Hair is waiting,” he said, still hovering above her, forehead against hers. “He drove me. Whenever you’re ready, we’ll take you home.”

“And you’ll stay with me?” she asked, hopeful but a little unsure. 

“What do you think?” he asked again.

A smile broke out on her face as she shifted herself forward, stretching up, her lips finding his with practiced ease like she had been waiting for this moment ever since their last kiss. 

Exactly how she had acted when he had held her hand for the first time.

He had thought that wasn’t true. That it had been him who had been pining pathetically for her. But maybe it wasn’t, and maybe it hadn’t been pathetic pining. Maybe both of them had just needed time, a little time to make sure they knew the way home, even after being gone for a long while. 

It seemed, as she pulled away briefly only to hit with another and then another between soft sighs and happy giggles, that they had managed after all. 

“Besides,” he muttered, kissing her once more. “If I don’t come with you, what are you gonna do? You can’t even feed yourself right now, dummy.” 

“Yyyeah,” she drawled with an impish smile. “I’m gonna be a pain to take care of.” 

He couldn’t even bring himself to pretend to be annoyed at that. Because there was nothing he would rather be doing. They would talk later, he imagined. 

About what happened. 

About what would happen next.

About the keychain in his pocket that was always on his person. 

About where they have been since they left each other, about who they were now. But all of that could wait. 

Because it was the first Christmas in two years that either of them could rightfully say that they made it home.