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April feels warmer this year.
A kind breeze ruffles Katsuki’s hair as he cools down from his morning run. Quiet, it echoes in a soft rustling all around him, moving along the trees that offer him shade. The grass is ticklish in a satisfying, familiar way as he sits to stretch his limbs methodically, with years of rigorous routine ingrained in the fibres of his muscles. Thighs, calves, hamstrings—he breathes in, then out, eyes following a few stray petals carried by the wind. In, then out. One of them lands on his face, and Katsuki lets it linger for just a few moments before blowing it away.
Cherry blossoms carry new beginnings, they spur change. For Katsuki, spring is about resolutions as much as it is about embracing the past. It’s a journey he started with uncertain, admittedly small steps, but one particular moment always comes to mind this time of the year.
For Katsuki, spring is about Izuku.
He remembers that rainy afternoon of two years ago with shocking clarity. His shoulder hurt like fucking hell, still bandaged and recovering, holding the weight of Izuku’s tired body as he collapsed against his own. He seemed so small, back then—too small for the demons crawling inside the black of his eyes. His cheeks pale, covered in dirt; his clothes wet with mud and rain.
Katsuki always hated the rain. But the kid that once tried to help him out of a river was now about to drown, so Katsuki had to endure it for a bit longer—just until he was home. Safe.
That rescue mission lives in Katsuki’s mind like a fixed point in the fabric of his own history. The moment that redefined his relationship with his childhood friend, but also a crystallisation of his desire to become a better person, to come to terms with the weaknesses of a self he refused to acknowledge for too long. It's the moment Katsuki realised to some deep, fundamental level, that all he wanted was to be a hero worthy of Izuku's praise.
It was—surprisingly natural, pouring his heart out to him, like Izuku was the one person always meant to understand him. And hell, despite being tired, and broken, and within all rights to tell Katsuki to fuck off, Izuku listened. He understood. Somehow, like the reckless idiot that he was, he had already forgiven.
True to his words, Katsuki didn't want his apology to change anything between them. He wanted to be part of Izuku's life, sure, but he was going to earn that, because intentions don't mean shit unless they're backed up by actions. He stayed by Izuku's side, keeping his distance at first, but always watching. Until that stubborn ass got sick of waiting for Katsuki to come close and smacked him on the head, pushing him into another fight that crumbled all the walls they had built around themselves. When the dust settled over their bloody knuckles and broken bones, all that remained was—them. Deku and Kacchan in their tethered, stripped-down souls.
Katsuki thinks it's ironic that every time they've had a heart-to-heart, it's always been while they beat the shit out of each other, or in the midst of a fucking war. But that one—Katsuki needed that fight. Some part of him needed to hear Izuku say he wanted Kacchan to be his friend, that his dream was still being heroes together.
They’re in a good place now. Great actually, with the plans for their partnership coming together and the casual breakfasts spent in each other’s company. Katsuki should shut up and take the win, except—there’s still something lingering between them, some unaddressed matter that he has never dared to touch. He knows cherry blossoms today haunt him with purpose, because how dare he think about new beginnings when he hasn’t had the courage to tell Izuku a secret he’s kept for years?
I love you.
There. A truth so undeniable it spills out like a sigh of relief, without Katsuki even realising. It travels through the air, hiding in the rustling wind only for the wind to whistle back, taking the shape of the sounds Katsuki longs for but is too coward to even dream about.
I love you too, Kacchan.
Pathetic. Just thinking about it makes his hands sweat and his heart race.
He used to blame it on the circumstances, on death hanging by their doorstep every other day, ‘cause who in their right mind would've chosen a time like that to confess? But then the war came to an end, and society picked up the pieces of its shaken foundation and rebuilt itself into a better version of what once was, and Katsuki still wasn’t able to tell him. And now—what’s holding him back, if not fear?
It’s a burning admission. Katsuki never thought he'd so openly admit to being afraid, but life's got funny ways of showing you how insignificant your intentions can be, how easy it is for things to go wrong. Revealing how strong his feelings are—how deep his devotion for Izuku runs—has the potential of breaking the equilibrium of their friendship irreparably.
The sun peeks out the horizon soft and patient, giving Katsuki time to sort out his feelings before the day officially begins. It forces him to stop and admit, is there really a reason to keep things as they are? What’s the point of protecting an equilibrium that only exists in theory? They died and raged, killed and broke bones for each other—nothing about them has ever been balanced, maybe not even sane. Katsuki knows this, so he’ll be damned if he has to die again with Izuku’s name on his lips and a heart full of him, in secret.
He’s dramatic. God, he's so dramatic, but it feels like his entire life sits on the hinges of this goddamn confession because, despite the voices whispering that he doesn’t deserve that kind of love from Izuku, all that Katsuki has ever gotten from him are kind, adoring eyes, and if that has always been true, then—
Well. Whatever the consequences might be, he owes Izuku the truth. He owes it to himself to try.
*
Katsuki doesn’t give himself the chance to chicken out. Two knocks on Izuku's door in the dawnlit silence of the corridor, then he waits.
"Kacchan, hi!" If Izuku is surprised to see him, he doesn't show it. He's wearing that dumb pyjama shirt he's had since first year, scrubbing at his eyes as if he’d just gotten out of bed.
"Can I come in?" Katsuki hates the urgency in his voice, the traitorous way it trembles, giving away his nerves. He knows Izuku is gonna latch onto that, he's gonna realise this ain't some casual hangout and Katsuki won't have a way to lie his way out of it.
Izuku blinks rapidly a few times but nods, making way for him to come in. "Is everything alright? It’s a bit early for breakfast."
"Yeah, just—wanted to see you. There's something—" Katsuki clears his throat, feeling the sweat already dampening the back of his neck. "I need to talk to you about something."
"Ah. Uhm, sure—of course, anything!"
Izuku sits on the bed and he’s already ten times more jittery than when he opened the door. He asks about Katsuki’s morning as if he doesn’t already know every detail about his routine. Katsuki replies, simply because he doesn’t want to jump right into it , while watching him tie his hair up in a bun only to undo it a few seconds later. Izuku picks at his fingernails while simultaneously avoiding Katsuki's face, which means he's got a few guesses on what this conversation is about…and it’s making him freak out.
Katsuki isn’t faring any better; this whole ‘talking about feelings’ bullshit has always been complicated for him. He lives by the principle that actions speak louder than words, but Izuku can be real fucking dumb sometimes—he’ll watch you take a hit for him and then wonder what that could possibly mean.
So yeah. Katsuki is about to give a frankly quite improvised speech about his big ass feelings, but as soon as their small talk dies down, Izuku blurts out:
"Is this about the internship?"
"Huh? What internship?"
“You know, the one Sensei was talking about yesterday? Two years in the US? Uh, you—seemed kinda in your head when he was talking about that, so I thought—"
It hits Katsuki like a gut punch.
“That why you're freaking out so much?" His mouth feels so dry the words struggle to come out. "You wanna go and you're scared to tell me you don’t wanna partner up with me anymore?"
Izuku frowns. “Wait, what?”
Past Katsuki would've thrown a fit and told him he didn't give a fuck if he left. He would've kept the disappointment behind barbed wires of anger and hurtful words. But he’s grown past that. No walls, right? Izuku deserves nothing but the truth.
“I thought we were on the same page about this. Are you regretting it or some shit?”
There’s a visible switch in Izuku’s expression where he goes from confusion to mild panic. “What? No—nononono Kacchan, never!” The tension clinging onto his shoulders drops, and he lets out a sigh he was probably holding since Katsuki came here. “I've been wanting this—us, working together, for so long, I just—uh, I guess I still struggle sometimes to believe you won't wake up one day and realise you can be a hero on your own.” He chuckles, the idiot, as if that makes the blow he delivered any weaker.
“Deku,” the old nickname slips, but Katsuki doesn’t care. “I am capable of being a hero on my own—fuck, I could tear a new one to dozens of the old pros and you know it —but so are you.”
The urge to smash his face into a wall fuses with the need to get as close as humanly possible to him, so Katsuki holds onto his arms, looking straight into his eyes with a fire burning in his core and an edge of desperation in his tight grip.
“I didn't ask you to partner with me cause I can't do it by myself, I asked cause I fucking want you there with me, you dipshit!”
Izuku’s mouth falls open, silent, and fuck if that ain’t the achievement of Katsuki’s life.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. So no, I ain’t going anywhere without you.”
“Kacchan…” Izuku’s eyes fill with tears, and while that’s certainly not news, it breaks Katsuki a little bit to know it’s his fault this time.
“You don’t know how surreal this feels, sometimes. Hearing you say stuff like that.” He chuckles, with a smile that feels like the sun peeking out from a cloudy sky. “I—I always imagined us together, you know? Whenever I thought about my future, or my life, or hero work—I could never picture a world where you were not by my side.”
His hands move around a lot, and he’s still fiddling with the hair tie, gesticulating to calm down despite being so clearly out of his comfort zone. Katsuki involuntarily starts rubbing gently at his arms, to soothe him. “And look, I know this sounds borderline insane, and obsessive, and I honestly never thought I’d be able to tell you this, but I um, I think—I’m—”
Katsuki kisses him.
It’s a leap of faith, but he doesn’t need to hear the end of the sentence when Izuku’s eyes speak so loud. It’s love—it’s always been there. Kind, adoring—all his life for Katsuki alone.
He cups the back of Izuku’s neck and tastes victory on his lips, the exhilarating feeling of being kissed back with the same hunger that burns inside him, starved for years and years.
“Not insane.” A kiss. “Or obsessive.” Another. “Shit—maybe it is, I don’t know—but you’re in my head all the fucking time , Izuku, and I need you to know, I need you to—”
Izuku’s hands hold onto Katsuki like he needs that touch to fucking live. They’re scorching hot, frenetic and needy just as Izuku is. Katsuki pushes him down until they both fall on the bed, and he practically gets off to the words that stumble out of Izuku’s mouth as he licks and bites at his neck. “Oh I know, Kacchan—I know. I’m the same—” He stifles a sob. “It’s always been like this, but I could never tell you, never—how could I tell you?”
Katsuki thinks of his own fear, of the worry that was clawing at his chest until a few moments ago and of how simple this feels now, how natural. He holds Izuku tight to his chest, muffling the stream of tears and nervous mumbling.
“It’s okay. We’re good. We’re here now, stop freaking out.” And it’s hypocritical of him, when he’s still very much on the verge of a breakdown, unable to put into words what just happened.
There’s always been a lot of unspoken between them. Hidden strings that connect them in obscure patterns that were never detangled, because what would happen if, in doing so, they found out that their bond was never really there, that they were actually just living in proximity? Not tethered, but tangents in each other’s lives.
But this, the kissing in their sweaty clothes and the talking without the need of uttering a single word—it’s simple. It’s meant to be. Being together is all they’ve ever wanted.
They end up skipping breakfast in favour of some real, actual talk, and it’s not as embarrassing as Katsuki thought it was gonna be—mostly because Izuku is laying on top of him, and nothing could make him feel more like hot shit.
“So,” Izuku looks up at him, all bright and cheeky. “Is that still on, then? Are we still gonna be partners? Or maybe work and love life don’t mix well for Dynamight-san?”
Katsuki takes a few moments to ponder before replying. Then, he takes an All Might themed pillow from the bed and hits Izuku right in the face with it. The idiot yelps, tries to steal the pillow from Katsuki and gets hit again—god, Katsuki loves him so fucking much it’s terrifying.
“Yes, asshole. Now shut your brain up and kiss me.”
Pink petals flutter outside the window. To new beginnings.