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Stars are beautiful, but they may not take part in anything, they must just look on forever.
― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan
Katsuki already has a migraine by the time Izuku slams open the door. The motherfucker doesn’t even knock, just Detroit Smashes it open and adds another dent into his office wall that Katsuki is absolutely going to get blamed for even though he’s only responsible for like… two. The rest are from the clown brigade and assholes like Izuku who aren’t willing to knock because they already know Katsuki is going to tell them to fuck off.
It's a self-induced problem, but still. Fuck them. Fuck him. Especially today.
“Kacchan,” Izuku puffs, standing in the doorway with his hand still slammed against the door despite the fact Katsuki is resolutely not looking at him.
He is not inviting this conversation. He has already had some version of it at least half a dozen times today and he does not want to fall into the Deku trap because this will undoubtedly be the messiest iteration.
“Kacchan,” he says again as Katsuki continues ignoring him, finishing his email, and hitting send before printing the attachment from the email.
The printer whirs into motion and Katsuki watches as the paper slides from the tray into the feeder before looking back at the computer monitor.
“You’ve heard, right?”
The hairs on the back of Katsuki’s neck stand up and a nauseating chill crawls up his spine. He doesn’t shiver. Won’t shiver. Because this is fucking stupid and there’s nothing to be sick over.
“Hey,” Izuku says, softer, which is bullshit because Katsuki isn’t so obvious and, despite all his best efforts, Izuku can’t read his mind. “Are you okay?”
Katsuki takes out his phone and begins entering the number from his email into his phone. “Come here.”
Izuku takes a step forward before his wits catch up with him and he reels back. “What? No. Why?”
“Because I said I was going to punch the next person who asked me that.”
There’s an inappropriate amount of triumph on Izuku’s face. It lasts for only a second before he’s shutting the door to Katsuki’s office and putting on that fucking concerned-friend-wannabe-therapist face that only ever pisses Katsuki off, even after all these years. His Izuku-related feelings are significantly less violent than they used to be, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still send him into an absolute rage when he meddles in areas that Katsuki doesn’t need him in.
And he doesn’t. He doesn’t need him here.
“So, you have heard,” Izuku confirms. “And?”
“And what?”
“What do you mean and what? Are you okay? Are you going to say something or–“
“I’m sure as fuck not offering them my apartment, if that’s what you’re here for.”
“You know that’s not what I’m talking about. You can’t just pretend that–“
“What? Freezer Burn isn’t moving in with the guy he’s been dating for the last year? As it turns out, I’m the only one not pretending. I don’t know what your problem is. I thought you liked the guy."
“I do, but–“
“So? Why aren’t you congratulating him and picking out curtains or some shit?”
“Because I’m worried,” Izuku pleads, frantically pacing back and forth in the middle of Katsuki’s office. “I can’t imagine what this feels like and I’m panicking because–“
“Don't. This is not your problem.“
“But it is! I mean, it isn’t, but it's- I just want–“
“You need to let this go.”
“How can you be so calm?”
“Because I’m fucking reasonable. Your friend is moving on to the next stage of their life–“
“And you’re okay with that?!”
“There isn’t another choice!”
Fuck.
Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut because fuck. This is exactly what he was trying to avoid, why his phone had been shut off, and the door to his office was shut, but not locked.
The look on Izuku’s face is crushing. His eyes are the size of dinner plates and they’re already watery. He doesn’t need to do this. He doesn’t need to feel things on Katsuki’s behalf when he has already compartmentalized this and told himself there’s only one way to move forward.
The problem is, he has already sparked the flame that Katsuki tries so hard to keep burnt out. He tries to drown it out, but it doesn’t really matter. Katsuki is the human equivalent of a powder keg, and it only takes that spark. Just a single flame and all those pieces burn into an inferno.
“You really want to do this?” He says, gritting his teeth and standing up to rip the paper from the printer tray. “I don’t know what you fucking want from me. What any of you want from me. He’s fucking happy. Like, really legitimately happy and you think, what? I shouldn’t let that happen? Because of some one-sided–“
“You don’t know that–“
“Get a life!” Katsuki explodes. “For fuck's sake, Deku. It has been years! If it was going to happen it would’ve! Stop making this into something it isn’t! He’s happy. That’s it. That’s the end of this.”
For a moment, it’s blissfully quiet. Katsuki looks down at the paper in front of him and feels more confident in his decision than he ever has.
“It’s not like you to give up.”
“Get fucked,” Katsuki spits. “He’s a person, Izuku. This isn’t a win at all costs situation. He has his own fucking wants and I’m not one of 'em so I’m not gonna guilt him into being miserable just so I can have him like he’s some fucking trophy. What kind of monster do you think I am? You really think I would try to destroy his happiness just so I could win?”
Izuku’s eyes go wide. “Kacchan, that’s not what I–“
“But it is,” Katsuki corrects. “It’s what every-fucking-one of you meant. Instead of any of you just fucking focusing on being happy for him you’re all looking at me like I’m some fucking liability. Like I’m going to do something to ruin everything because I’m incapable of being happy for him when all I’ve ever wanted was for him to be fucking happy. Fuck.”
Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut tight, trying to keep the white-hot liquid behind his eyes.
Fuck this. Fuck all of this.
Out loud it’s real. Now that Izuku hears it, it exists. It’s no longer this thing Katsuki keeps locked away as the world’s worst kept secret that he never tried to hide but ended up having to anyway.
He doesn’t want it to keep hurting. There has to be a point where it stops.
“I believed you,” he says, opening his eyes to stare at nothing. "I believed all of you. All our fucking friends, our co-workers, his fucking dad…”
Eventually you’ll find the time.
“I believed it. But believing isn't enough anymore.”
The look on Izuku’s face reminds him of being fifteen, back when he was angry over everything and desperate to be someone. He should be grateful that Izuku is still here, still caring about Katsuki and all his sharp, bleeding pieces when, again, the world promises him greatness and then hands him the second-place trophy.
“I just…” Izuku says. “I just always thought…”
Yeah, Katsuki thinks, me too.
“I’m sorry, Kacchan.”
The last remaining piece of any hope in Katsuki’s chest free falls. It hits the metaphorical ground and shatters like ice, which isn’t lost on him.
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he says, looking down at the paper and nodding his head. “You should be happy.”
“I am. I just… was hoping when this happened, I could be happy for both of you.”
Katsuki purses his lips, more sure and more defeated than he has possibly ever been. He picks up the paper and slaps it against Izuku’s chest, heading out the door. “We're heroes. The happy endings aren't meant for us.”
Katsuki Bakugou,
Your transfer request to the United States has been approved. We look forward to you joining the ranks of the Professional Hero Association of America…
Katsuki doesn’t hate him, for the record. He obviously hates the idea of him and the entire fucking concept, but he doesn’t hate him. Hiro is a lesser form of douchebag, as far as douchebags go. He liked him better in the beginning, when he was totally smitten with everything Shouto did and was always showing up with surprises just because it made Shouto so fucking happy, but he's tolerable in some nauseating way.
It's just hard to hate anything that makes Shouto happy, because it isn’t as if he’s generous with his smiles, even after all these years.
So, on principle, Katsuki doesn’t hate him because Shouto doesn’t. That doesn’t mean they’ve ever gotten along. They’ve been civil with a mutual understanding that both of them care for Shouto, but the line is drawn there.
Katsuki thinks Hiro is an arrogant jerk who hides behind a mediocre intelligence that he sells as brilliance, and Hiro thinks Katsuki is an arrogant jerk who hides behind his fucking overwhelmingly awesome Quirk.
Fuck him.
He’s only here for Shouto, because it’s probably going to be one of the last times they’ll ever see each other.
“How, the actual fuck, do you have this much shit?” Katsuki gripes, dropping another box onto an already formidable tower of boxes in the middle of what will soon be Shouto’s new living room.
“Would you believe me if I said most of it isn’t mine?”
“No,” Katsuki says and then rethinks. “Is it not?”
“Most of it is Hiro’s,” Shouto replies, setting the box in his arms on the stack next to Katsuki’s. “I think these are all books.”
“Fucking nerd. I bet it’s all boring shit too. Did he take Angel Face to go get the rest of the furniture?”
Shouto nods and looks out at the balcony before crossing the room and sliding the door open, stepping out. “Kirishima went to.”
“I thought he was going with Sparky to get food.”
“Izuku went instead.”
“That feels like a mistake.”
Shouto smiles, tilting his head just slightly to make eye contact in a way that lets him know he also thinks it’s a bad idea, but he’s willing to be amused by it. “Are you coming?”
Katsuki hesitates and then follows because that’s what he does whenever Shouto is in his orbit. It’s one of the thousands of reasons he has to leave.
He doesn’t stand next to him, instead he takes a seat on the ground of the empty patio and looks out at the city. He's trying to keep a little distance because his head and chest have been going haywire ever since the clock started ticking.
It’s all for nothing though, because Shouto spends another moment admiring his new view, and then does the same, planting himself so his shoulder touches Katsuki’s.
The feeling makes him a little sick. When did that start happening?
The sun is just starting to dip below the horizon and the entire city is painted in orange. It creeps up onto the balcony and, as much as Katsuki thinks he would like to, he doesn’t dare look over, to see what it looks like when Shouto is covered in his colour. He’s already hanging by a single, ill-defined thread and it hasn’t gotten better since Izuku pulled at what was left.
He doesn’t feel insane like he did in his office, but it doesn’t hurt any less. The ache is still there, settled deep in his bones where he has carried it at one level or another for nearly a decade.
“It’s a nice place,” Katsuki says, because he wants him to know.
“Yeah,” Shouto agrees. “I’m glad this is the one we went with.”
“Did you see a lot?”
“Too many.”
That tracks with his expectations of Hiro. Data-driven and logical. He likes to review all his options and contemplate the pros and cons, which is something Katsuki has never been able to understand. He has always trusted his gut and when he finds something he wants, he doesn’t need or want other options.
Katsuki was always going to be a hero.
UA had always been his one and only choice.
His feelings for Shouto were no different.
And maybe Katsuki’s formula isn’t perfect, but it doesn’t change the fact that he isn’t like Hiro. He can’t change the things he wants just because the data isn’t in his favour.
But it was for a while, he thinks, still clinging to the memories of waking up with Shouto asleep next to him on the green UA couch, or the way he looked the first time Katsuki made him laugh so hard he couldn’t breathe, or the million other times it was just the two of them in their own little bubble with jokes, fears, and dreams, the rest of the world couldn’t understand.
Katsuki hasn’t had to look over his shoulder in years. Not when Shouto was there always looking out for him.
“You’re really leaving,” Shouto says. Not a question, just a statement. An observation like he can see the thoughts inside Katsuki’s head.
“Yeah,” Katsuki breathes out, almost wishing he could.
“Nothing I can say to make you stay?”
He says it so harmless that he can’t help but laugh. Katsuki can’t look at him, but he can picture the goofy, sort of sad smile on his face and his chest aches. Aches like it always has when he has been this close but so far away.
There was a time when Katsuki might have been able to close the gap, but it passed them by somewhere he could never pinpoint.
“No,” Katsuki says. “It’s time to move on. Move forward again.”
“I’m not sure I want to.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“Moving on. Moving forward. Of this,” Shouto says, waving his hands at the apartment. “I don’t know. All of this. Do you think that’s normal?”
“I don’t know.” Shouto gives him an unimpressed look. “What? I don’t. I’ve never done this shit. Izuku is married. Ask him.”
“I thought you knew everything.”
“No, I’m better at everything. There’s a difference.”
Shouto thunks his head back against the apartment. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“You’ve done this before. You’ve had roommates for years.”
“This is different,” Shouto says, and yeah, Katsuki knows but he doesn’t want to be having this conversation right now because it’s fucking up his north star that at least keeps him believing that Shouto is fucking happy. “What if I fuck this up?”
“Then you fuck it up. You won’t be the first or the last.”
“I don’t want to fuck it up.”
He’s exasperated with him. Katsuki knows. Shouto turns his head to look at him and Katsuki does the thing he has been avoiding and looks back.
He’s so stupid fucking gorgeous, even when he looks unsure of himself. He’s gorgeous because of his eyes, and his nose, because of his terrible sense of humour and because he has seen all the worst parts of Katsuki and never even thought to turn his back. He is everything Katsuki has dreamed of since he was a little kid, but better, more fiery, more passionate, more kind, more… everything. He’s all of Katsuki’s favourite memories wrapped into a single person and he still, even now, sees forever when he looks at him, despite the fact that he's not Katsuki's to share forever with.
Katsuki has made it his job to ease the troubles in Shouto's life and, despite the pain and the ache in the very core of his existence, this is no different.
Katsuki believes in him, has always believed in him. He’s never seen a battle Shouto couldn’t win, especially when they were together.
But that time is over.
“Then you won’t,” Katsuki says easily, feeling a sense of finality in his words. He catches sight of Izuku and Kaminari walking down the street with bags of food in hand, and he gets ready to stand up. “You’ve always won the battles that mattered the most.”
“That’s not true.”
Katsuki pauses mid-rise. He’s about to ask what he means when he meets Shouto’s eyes and they’re… sharp. The blue is overwhelming, and the gray has gone amber under the setting sun. He hasn’t ever, in his life, seen this look on Shouto or anyone else. He’s not even sure what it means. His heart jumps into his throat and all those shattered fragments start to tremble.
What do you mean?
Shouto is staring, staring at Katsuki like he’s something he regrets. Like there’s something he knows that Katsuki doesn't, but he wants him to.
Two weeks ago, Katsuki would have jumped. He would’ve chased this rabbit until it was firmly in his hands, but it was too late. The answer didn’t matter.
The single path they’ve both been walking together has already split in two.
In front of him, Shouto swallows and asks again, slowly, one last time.
“There’s nothing I could say?”
Katsuki holds his breath.
Inside the apartment, there’s a knock on the door. Katsuki’s head screams: tell me we were all right, ask me to stay, pick me, but he can hear Kaminari hooting in the hallway, and not a moment later is the sound of a truck below them, signaling the arrival of the rest of the furniture for Shouto’s new apartment with the guy he chose over Katsuki, even if he never realizes it.
I love you, Katsuki thinks, defeated. I’m always going to but I can’t stay here and watch any longer.
The road has split. Time is up.
He looks at Shouto, really looks and finally lets himself see all the parts he has tried to ignore for years because it hurt too much to stare. He looks incredible in orange, like the best thing Katsuki has ever – and will ever – see.
He looks, and he memorizes…
And then he lets go.
“Not anymore.”
He gets up and answers the door.
She asked where he lived.
"Second star to the right," said Peter, "and then straight on 'til morning."