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i feel like (a hero)
You never needed me.
You never needed me, and you were always there with a hand extended to aid me at the first sign of trouble.
All I wanted...all I needed was to be needed by you.
I wanted to be your hero...just once, but you...you have always been mine.
When will it be my turn?
Katsuki's body moved on its own, as it always did when it came to Izuku. He knew he shouldn't have done it, he'd promised to support from behind, utilizing his ranged attacks to keep the villains at bay. But then Izuku was on his knees and Katsuki was blasting himself past the villains, Shouto bellowing his name over the blasts. It sounded like a whisper, Katsuki could barely hear it over the roaring of blood pumping through his veins, adrenaline surging through him. The only thought in his head: save Deku.
He was surrounded, the villains closing in, one of them had a negation quirk like Eraserhead but they couldn't locate who. Izuku's green lightning had been snuffed out entirely, his body weighted from another villain's quirk. It seemed to have the opposite effect of Uravity's; instead of making things lighter it made them heavier. Much heavier.
Izuku was trying to fight against it with his own brute strength, but his arms were bracing the ground, quivering, he was useless.
Useless Deku.
Before Katsuki so much as thought her name, he wrapped an arm around Ochako's waist, hauling her with him. "Do you know what to do?!" He demanded,
"Leave it to me!"
He did. In that moment he trusted her with the most precious thing to him, Izuku's life.
Katsuki hurtled them into the center of the villain hoard, Ochako reached out, touching Izuku and hooking her lines to him when he started to float. Katsuki blasted off, Ochako still tucked against his side and Izuku being pulled along behind them. As soon as they were out, a wall of ice separated them from the villains, Katsuki made a mental note to thank Shouto later.
Then they were hit by a projectile– Deku was hit by a projectile. The force of the blow sent him spiraling through the air, tearing Ochako's line from her suit. She released her quirk on instinct and pushed herself out of Katsuki's grip, slapping her own body to float herself. Katsuki jetted off after Izuku, unconscious and falling Izuku.
Come on, come on
Faster, faster
"DEKU!"
Katsuki hollered as he tucked his arms in at his sides, plummeting after him and using the blasts from his gauntlets to propel him further. Izuku wasn't responsive. Izuku wasn't responsive and he was bleeding . It was normal, it was normal for them to bleed in a battle but the blood was gushing rapidly, flying back up at Katsuki as Izuku descended. He yelled, rage coursing through every fiber of his being. As he neared Izuku, Katsuki stretched his hand out to grab him. He wouldn't let Izuku hit the ground, he refused. He refused. He refused.
"DEKU! WAKE UP YOU ASSHOLE!" Izuku must have heard him, his eyes blinked open just a crack then suddenly they were wide. As they widened, Katsuki was impaled by a rising pike of earth that had come out of nowhere so suddenly and so fast he hadn't seen it. His focus had been tunneled in on one target. Deku .
The velocity of his fall, the swiftness of the pike emerging, and the abrupt stop in his momentum from the collision forced the pike clean through, and Katsuki sliding down on it. An explosion went off near him, lurching Katsuki forward, down farther onto the pike. Pain radiated through his right arm and he wheezed from the movement, his ears ringing from the blast.
Blood pooled at the corners of Katsuki's mouth, he stared down at the still falling Izuku, Katsuki's hand still outstretched to grab the one person who was always just out of reach.
Those wide green eyes were tear filled, as they always were. Izuku's mouth was open and moving like he was saying something, but Katsuki couldn't hear him, he couldn't hear anything. His vision was spotty, but he still saw the way Izuku's eyes flashed and lightning sparked around him. Then he was gone.
Katsuki wasn't sure how he'd maintained consciousness, maybe it was dumb luck, or perhaps his own stubborn sense of will. He strained to hear the fight long past him, but there was nothing but the ringing, the spotting in his vision worsened, and then Momo was in front of him on a platform of Shouto's ice. Ochako floated into view, she was talking rapidly with Yaomomo, but Katsuki still couldn't hear anything. He could only make out the movement of their lips, the abject horror on their faces. They looked at him expectantly, as though they had asked him a question, but Katsuki hadn't heard it.
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Only labored breathing followed by coughing and blood. More blood than he'd ever seen leave his body. This wasn't normal, this wasn't good, I'm dying.
Always the victim, rarely the victor. He remembered Hanta saying once in retort to a snide remark Katsuki had made. How does it feel? Having a hero complex yet always needing rescuing?
It fucking sucked.
That's how it felt.
The pike vibrated, but Katsuki couldn't tell why. Ochako and Yaomomo tensed, their eyes flickering from Katsuki to whatever was happening behind him. He couldn't be sure what was happening but he knew Izuku was there, at the center of it all for him.
Just once. Katsuki thought, just once, I want to be your hero.
Katsuki heaved another cough. Yaomomo pulled something from her body that Katsuki couldn't quite fathom, then she nodded to Ochako. Ochako touched him, her lips moving but no sound reached his ears. His vision blurred, darkness creeping in at the corners,
"Cheeks," he muttered, he wasn't sure any sound was coming out, he couldn't hear his own voice but he could feel his vocal cords working in his throat so maybe . When Ochako's gaze met his, her brows knitted together and her eyes glossed over with unshed tears, he offered her a feeble smile. "With my life," he choked out, I trust you with my life.
Her eyes widened, and Ochako nodded. She blinked back the tears and with new found determination, she pulled Katsuki up, off the pike. Momo followed their movements, carefully pressing her creation to his back when he was pulled off the pike, and the other half to his abdomen when he was finally free.
To Katsuki, the device looked like a giant set of earmuffs, but with cushioned gauze pads in place of fuzzy ear warmers. The band that held them in place fit around him perfectly, and for a brief moment he was thankful of the time she'd taken everyone's measurements so she could gift them each nice clothes for Christmas.
He let out a gasping breath when it latched into place, his body hollow and empty where the pike had once been. They maneuvered Katsuki onto a makeshift sling and the women tugged him back to the ground. Ochako didn't release her quirk until he was safely strapped into a stretcher, Katsuki didn't fully lose consciousness until he saw her vomit from the overuse of her quirk.
He's running from something.
No. No . He's chasing something— someone . His hand is outstretched, reaching, trying to catch whomever it is he's chasing. Always chasing.
Will I ever catch up to you, Izuku?
Will I ever reach you?
Will I ever be a hero? Your hero?
He's four years old, staring at Izuku's outstretched hand. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" He asks, and Katsuki stares at him
You never needed me.
You were always there with a hand extended to aid me at the first sign of trouble.
You were always an arms length away, all I had to do was reach out and take your hand.
All I had to do...
I pushed you. Punished you for being better than me. You've always been better than me.
I've always needed you...
Katsuki felt the weight of his body long before he managed the strength to crack open his eyes. He was heavy, there was a throbbing in his right arm and a dull pain aching in his abdomen, the ache growing stronger with every breath. The world was oddly quiet, not even the beeping of the heart monitor sounded. Odd . He thought, but decided he wouldn't worry too much about it considering the last time he'd been conscious his insides had been rearranged and not in the fun kind of way.
He cracked open one eye at a time. The room was dim, light from the hall filtering through a crack from the door. Green, red, and blue lights from the machinery attached to him by wires, tubes, and suction cups blinked in the dark. Very odd. Katsuki thought. Maybe he wasn't fully awake and that's why he couldn't hear the beeping of the heart monitor and whirring of other machinery.
Katsuki tried to shift in the cot, the pain in his abdomen shooting throughout him, triggering a coughing fit as he tried to wheeze a breath. The coughing spurred movement in the hallway, and soon the door was being pushed open and a nurse was rushing to his side.
She didn't say anything, instead moving straight to taking his vitals. It was even more odd that she hadn't spoken to him. All the nurses who had catered to him in the past, the first words out of their mouths were a series of questions to check his lucidity, but this one was different.
No .
The nurse lowered herself to look him in the eye, her lips moved but no sound came out. No, that's not...I can't hear her. Katsuki's eyes widened, one of his greatest fears realized.
"I can't hear you," he said, whether he was shouting or whispering, he couldn't be sure. He felt like crying when he saw the look on her face. She said something else, something he still couldn't hear, and the look on his own must have reflected his confusion. She held up a finger before rushing out then back in with a blank sheet of paper on her clipboard. She scribbled something on it then showed it to Katsuki.
On a scale of one to ten, where's your pain?
"Seven,"
She nodded, scribbling something else,
I'm checking your blood pressure, then we'll get your bandages changed, after that I'll send for an otolaryngologist to check on your hearing. Can you hear anything?
"No." Katsuki answered. She nodded and scribbled a few notes then showed him the clipboard again.
Do you want visitors?
His throat tightened and he felt the salt of tears stinging his eyes, but he blinked them back. He didn't want visitors, not plural. There was exactly one person in this godforsaken place that he wanted to see, but not like this. So, Katsuki shook his head no. The nurse offered him a sympathetic smile that only furthered the ache in his abdomen—no, not his physical wound. His heart. There was an aching in his heart.
Katsuki didn't like the silence. He missed the ringing from the battle, at least then he'd heard something but all he was met with was harrowing emptiness.
The otolaryngologist was a short, plump man in his sixties. He talked a million miles a minute and the only reason Katsuki knew this was because he could hear him. Not quite the same way one would normally hear, it was as if the doctor was transcribing his words directly into Katsuki's brain. His quirk, Katsuki guessed.
"What do you remember of the battle, Bakugo?"
Katsuki thought back to it. Most of it was a blur after he'd been impaled, the only thing his mind lingered on was intention. Save Deku was the most prevalent thought.
"Your arm," the doctor gestured to his right arm. It was in a cast inside of a sling around his neck, "your gauntlet malfunctioned, it exploded. They had to rebuild your arm entirely. The reports from your previous physicals mention the deterioration of the nerve endings in your ears, the result of repetitive exposure to sudden loud noises and outward pressure. Your quirk."
"You were advised to wear earplugs, were you not?"
"I couldn't hear with them in," Katsuki said defensively,
"Now you can't hear at all."
The statement struck him like a slap to the face. He let out a jagged breath, sure , he couldn't hear, but he could still use his quirk. He'd learn JSL and it would be fine, right?
"Do you understand me, Bakugo? They rebuilt your arm. Until the bones have healed, and the muscle is reworked, the quirk therapists won't know if you'll be able to use your quirk in that arm as effectively as before if at all."
Okay, that... that was a daunting realization.
"Can you fix my ears?" Katsuki asked, the otolaryngologist hung his head,
"No. I can give you pamphlets for communication resources and therapy, but in the state you're in now, I can't. Your ears need to heal, as does the rest of your body. Your hearing may come back in time as you heal, but that's not a guarantee. If it comes back at all, you'll most likely need hearing aids."
Katsuki grunted, hearing aids weren't the worst case scenario, at least he'd be able to hear something . But he had bigger concerns now, more pressing issues. If at all. Rattled through his skull. Did that mean what he thought it meant? If his arm doesn't heal properly, if he can't use his quirk to its fullest, can he even call himself a hero anymore?
Retired Pro Hero: Dynamite
The thought of it had his blood boiling. He hadn't made it to number one yet, he was barely in the top ten! He couldn't fail now, not when—
He should have listened. He should have stayed behind like he promised.
"Kacchan, I have a plan. Cover me?"
"Tch. Always."
But the plan had failed, and if Katsuki hadn't joined the fray, if he hadn't jumped in—
He shook the visual of Izuku lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood from his mind. He wouldn't think about it. He couldn't stomach it. He didn't regret his choice, not in the slightest. If five year old, ten year old, fifteen year old, or hell even twenty year old Katsuki had bore witness to what twenty-five year old Katsuki had done, they would kick his ass. He could practically hear his younger selves.
How could you do this to us!? For Deku of all people! We’re supposed to be number one!
But Katsuki had long stopped caring about being the number one hero in the country, his desires having since fallen into a more domestic category. No, it didn’t matter if Katsuki was Japan’s number one hero. It mattered if he was Izuku’s number one hero. Oh, how the mighty fall.
It was weeks before Katsuki was released from the hospital. He’d refused visitors the entire time. He spent the day reading a shitty romance novel, watching videos on JSL, talking with a therapist and occasionally reading text messages from his friends. They’d heard the extent of the damage from the gossip the old hag had shared with Aunty Inko, there wasn’t much he could do in the way of stopping her there. He didn’t really want to, either. The less he had to explain, the less questions raised by voices he could no longer hear, the better off Katsuki would be. He tried not to dwell on it, the longing he felt to hear the voices he’d taken for granted for so many years.
He tried not to dwell on the loss of Izuku’s mumbling, his excited chatter, and worse yet his laugh. The realization he might never hear Izuku’s laugh again was enough to send him spiraling, lying in his hospital cot and staring up at the ceiling.
Katsuki Bakugo was a man with many regrets, and it seemed that the list of regrets was growing longer and longer the older he got. One of such regrets was falling in love with his childhood best friend. Another regret was never telling that friend. If there was even the smallest chance that Izuku loved him back, now Katsuki would never be able to hear it spoken.
He had thought about running away. It was cowardly, but the idea of watching his friends go about their lives like normal while his would never be the same was almost too much for Katsuki to digest. He didn’t. He wasn’t weak. When he was released from the hospital, he didn’t tell anyone. He hailed a cab, giving the driver directions to his apartment. If they spoke, he couldn’t hear it, but that didn’t matter much. Katsuki had never been one for small talk to begin with.
To say he was shocked when he opened the door to his flat and found it in disarray was an understatement. The first thing that drew Katsuki’s eyes were the balloons. Orange and black and red, floating all around. There were streamers of the same color scheme, perfectly spaced and hanging from the ceiling. Hanging from the archway leading from the sitting room to the kitchen was a banner reading: Welcome Home Kacchan!
The banner was clearly handmade, complete with bubble letters, silly doodles, and the signatures of all who had worked on it. Eijiro, Denki, Hanta, Mina, Ochako, Momo, Shoto, and Izuku. Had Katsuki’s hearing been intact, he might have heard the faint padding of feet or the creek of the floorboards. He might even hear someone swearing under their breath followed by the sound of a knife clattering in the sink. He didn’t hear any of it, in its place the hair on the back of Katsuki’s neck stood on end. The place looked like it was fresh out of a Party City catalog, he half expected to find more surprises the further he traversed into the apartment.
Katsuki kicked the door shut behind him, locking it. The sound of the door slamming caught the attention of the offender lurking in Katsuki’s kitchen. They scurried out of the room, sliding into view of the returned hero who had busied himself with hanging up his jacket. Katsuki Bakugo didn’t startle easily but, when he turned away from the hall closet to find Izuku Midoriya standing in his apartment clad in a minty green apron with lace trim, he jumped a little. It wasn’t visible, not technically. His heart rate spiked and his palms began sweating a little more. Katsuki was quick to wipe them on his trousers while he affixed Izuku with a scrutinizing gaze. How did he know—damn old hag.
It was then, he realized, Izuku was talking. Shit.
“I can’t hear you,” Katsuki said, cutting him off midramble. His voice seemed to startle Izuku out of whatever day dream he’d been muttering about. He smiled up at Katsuki, green eyes shining and freckles dancing from the pull of his lips. Stupid.
‘I know’ Izuku signed. Katsuki blinked at him. Since when did Izuku know JSL? Katsuki signed back at him,
‘Asshole.’ “Don’t talk if you’re not going to sign.”
Izuku shifted his weight from one foot to the next, teetering back and forth. He raised his hands, waving them in some form of apologetic defeat. ‘Sorry, I was talking to myself. I didn’t mean to offend,’
“Yeah, well. You did. If you’re gonna say it, you’re gonna sign it.” Katsuki stalked forward, stopping just short of Izuku. The older they’d gotten, the less prevalent their height difference had become. Izuku was maybe three inches shorter than him, but what he lacked in height he made up for in muscle. Katsuki was lean, clean cut, where Izuku was bulk and mass. If it came down to a hand to hand exchange between the two of them, Katsuki wasn’t sure he’d win anymore. He didn’t have to worry about that though, not now that the animosity that had brewed between the pair long ago had all but scabbed over and slowly healed during their time at UA. “What are you doing here anyway?”
Izuku’s smile was this vibrant, radiant thing. Like the shining sun, it shed its light on the seeds of affection buried within Katsuki’s heart. Those seeds had long since grown root, twining around his heart and squeezing it whenever Izuku gave Katsuki his time of day. It was stupid. Stupid. Stupid. How could someone so strong, so powerful, so kindhearted smile at Katsuki like that? It didn’t make any sense.
‘I came to check on you. Aunty said you weren’t doing well, and I didn’t want you coming back to an empty apartment. You… you didn’t accept visitors-’
“Kind of hard to accept visitors when I can’t hear anything,” Katsuki quipped,
‘We’ve been learning.’ Izuku supplied,
“We?” He nodded his head vigorously.
‘Everyone who signed the banner, plus some.’ So that’s how Izuku knew JSL.
“You… why?” Katsuki asked, face contorting a little with the wrinkle of his nose and his mouth downturned into a frown.
‘Isn’t it obvious? We care about you!’ Katsuki rolled his eyes. Of course they did. He pushed past Izuku, into the kitchen at the insistence of his grumbling stomach. Izuku raced forward, blocking his path. Katsuki narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over chest as he looked Izuku over.
“Move.”
“No.” He hadn’t signed it, but Izuku didn’t need to for Katsuki to make out the shape of the word on his lips. He sighed,
“Izuku–”
Izuku shook his head, ‘I’m working on something for you! Please, just, go sit. I already ordered take out. Your favorite book is on the couch, the tv is set for subtitles, and I’ll have dessert ready by the time dinner gets here.’ Katsuki’s frown lessened. He was torn between his frustration over how quickly it seemed Izuku had picked up JSL and how touched he was that his friends had taken the time out of their busy lives to learn it for him. Katsuki weighed his options, kick Izuku out or accept his generous offer? He was the only person Katsuki had wanted to see while he was in the hospital, and now here he was. Katsuki could hardly deny Izuku anything nowadays, so why should he start trying now?
“Fine, but don’t go making a mess.”
Izuku’s grin faltered a little, guilt flashing across his face. Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose, “don’t make a bigger mess.” He didn’t bother with opening his eyes to see Izuku’s reaction, he was sure the green haired idiot was uttering something along the lines of no promises, Kacchan! But I will clean it up! Scouts honor!
With Izuku determined to bustle around in the kitchen, dinner decided, and his evening plans already in motion, Katsuki headed for the shower.
The hospital never had good water pressure, nor did the water get hot enough for Katsuki to feel truly clean. If his flesh wasn’t melting from bone, if the water wasn’t the temperature of magma, he didn’t want it. Simple as that. The bathroom filled with steam swiftly as the water warmed. Katsuki stripped from his clothes, pulling his phone from the pocket of his trousers to sit on the counter. He glanced at it, the notifications screen filled. New messages from the group chat with his friends, from his mom, from Aunty Inko. There were single messages from his friends too. Eijiro sent him updates on hero rankings, Denki sent him memes curated just for him, Mina had sent a pinterest inspo board to pass along to his parents for her attire for the up and coming Hero’s Ball. The messages were an amalgamation of going on as if life were completely normal while trying to subtly check in on him. Katsuki hadn’t answered a single one of them.
The only one who hadn’t texted him while he was in the hospital was the very person now wreaking havoc in his kitchen. He’d thought about texting Izuku himself, letting him know he was still alive. He was tempted to mimic the selfie Denki had sent the group chat once after a close call of his own. He’d been lying in the hospital bed, barely lucid, with an oxygen tube under his nose and several wires hooked up to his chest. Denki had thrown up a peace sign and captioned the selfie with: I lived, bitches.
Eijiro and Hanta had found it hilarious. Denki’s boyfriend wasn’t nearly as impressed with his antics. He still cracked a smile, of course, but Katsuki wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Hitoshi as alert as he was during that time. Speaking of Hitoshi… Katsuki should ca—
He should text him. Yeah. Eventually.
Much to Katsuki’s surprise, his kitchen wasn’t a complete warzone when he returned from his shower. Izuku, however, was in a far different state. His apron was covered in miscellaneous baking ingredients, his face had— was that chocolate —and some pink sticky substance smeared across it. Somehow, some fucking how, it looked as though he’d gotten egg stuck in his hair. Only Izuku Midoriya was capable of being a strategic genius in the streets and a mess in the baking sheets.
Izuku seemed blissfully ignorant of his physical appearance, beaming up at Katsuki as he presented him with the take out he had ordered. It was his go-to order from the restaurant just down the road, a mom and pop shop featuring Indian cuisine. When they labeled their food spicy, they meant it and Katsuki praised them for it everytime. A plate of spicy chicken curry and garlic naan were thrust into Katsuki’s hands. He accepted it with little protest.
‘Dessert is in the oven, then it needs to set.’
“Set?” Katsuki questioned.
‘Yeah! Don’t ask too many questions, Kacchan. It’s a surprise.’ Katsuki couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, whatever.”
Katsuki took his plate and settled in on the sofa. The food was good because of course it was, they’d never made a bad thing in their lives. As he ate, Katsuki found his attention lingering on the kitchen, watching Izuku’s shadow move to and fro as he finished closing it down. He smiled, just a little bit. Katsuki wasn’t a stranger to Izuku making a mess in his kitchen, but he was a stranger to Izuku pushing him out and telling him to take it easy. Usually he was whining for Katsuki’s help, telling him things like it tastes better when you make it, Kacchan.
You never needed me.
But I’ve always needed you.
He couldn’t be sure how it happened, but one minute he was eating dinner and the next Izuku was taking his plate away to be washed then the minute after that they were sprawled across the couch, Izuku watching whatever program was playing on the television while Katsuki read his book. His head was in Izuku’s lap and scarred hands made their way through blonde hair, pushing it from Katsuki’s eyes and gently scratching at his scalp. Were he a cat, he might pur. At some point, between one blink and the next, Katsuki didn’t open his eyes again.
He woke up in his bedroom, groggy and wholly unaware of what century it was. The street lights filtering through his window told him it was still night and the time on his phone confirmed it. Three in the morning, Izuku was long gone by now. A pang of guilt twinged in his chest. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but it had been the most comfortable he’d felt since he’d woken up in the hospital to realize one of his senses had been lost entirely. It had everything to do with Katsuki trusting Izuku with his life and nothing to do with the comforts of being home. He’d never really considered a physical place as his home, not even his childhood house where his parents had raised him. Home had always, much to Katsuki’s dismay, come in the form of people. Most consistently that home could be found in bright green eyes and a sunshine smile both of which had Katsuki’s heart clenching when directed at him.
He threw his legs over the side of his bed. Pain throbbed in his still healing wound, Katsuki's hand came to rest on it, pressing lightly. It was over. It was done. He was safe. He remembered the look in Izuku’s eyes when the pike rose up. There was a split second between horror and rage when Katsuki caught a glimpse of something else. Something he still couldn’t place. He meant to ask Izuku about it– well –not really. What was he supposed to say, exactly? Hey, nerd, remember when I almost died trying to reach you? What were you feeling?
Stupid.
Katsuki pushed himself out of bed, heading for the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. He stopped as he was passing the living room, movement catching his attention. There, stretched across the couch, was the sleeping form of Izuku Midoriya. Katsuki frowned, his brows furrowing at the sight. What the f–
“Izuku,” Katsuki crossed over to the couch, kneeling down next to it to stare at Izuku as he lightly shook him awake. Maybe it was rude to wake a slumbering guest, the same guest who’d ordered them dinner and made Katsuki dessert that he’d fallen asleep too soon to enjoy, the same slumbering guest that had carried him to bed and tucked him in. “Izuku,” he repeated.
A pair of groggy green eyes blinked open, staring up at Katsuki for a long moment before recognition crossed his features. Izuku’s lips pulled into a smile. His mouth moved, forming words Katsuki couldn’t hear nor make out. Katsuki flicked his nose,
“If you’re going to say it,” he began, “you’re going to sign it.”
‘Sorry’ Izuku motioned, following it up with another sign Katsuki couldn’t quite place. It was kind of like an explosion, the way his hands came together then pushed apart.
“What does—” he mirrored Izuku’s movement, “—mean?”
Izuku looked at Katsuki thoughtfully, probably trying to figure out the best way to explain it to Katsuki through JSL. Finally, he sat up, pulling his phone from his pocket to type it out. It means: Kacchan.
‘I know another hearing impaired person is supposed to give you your sign name, but I thought maybe I could give you your nickname…’
It was then that Katsuki realized he would likely never hear Izuku call him Kacchan again. Something fractured deep within him, something he couldn’t quite place but was simultaneously all too aware of. His eyes stung, it was embarrassing enough for Izuku to already be so much better at JSL than he was, but now he was going to cry over being named by him? Absolutely not.
‘Kacchan? Is that okay? I’ve…I’ve been thinking about it for a while, so I thought—if not—that’s alright.’
“What do you mean you’ve been thinking about it for a while?” Katsuki demanded, red eyes snapping up to meet Izuku’s gaze. He smiled softly at Katsuki, the stupid smile he gave to just about anyone willing to give him the time of day. Izuku shifted closer, reaching out a hand to push Katsuki’s sleep matted hair from his face. Katsuki grabbed his wrist, slowly pulling Izuku’s hand away from his hair. “Izuku.”
‘I always suspected your quirk might cause hearing loss. Auntie told my mom who told me about the deterioration. I started learning JSL the moment I knew.’
The fracture grew wider until pieces of himself were falling into it leaving an ever widening chasm in its wake. Katsuki felt both hollow yet full. Izuku had… he’d been learning JSL for—for months. No wonder he used it so fluidly. Katsuki could understand it well enough, but he struggled with signing, especially as he began regaining feeling in his right arm. His fingers wouldn’t form quite how he wanted them to. Pain would shoot through his wrist if he moved them too quickly or too much. It was a frustration he’d been dealing with for weeks. Of course, when he’d first been informed of the deterioration, he’d taken the necessary steps to start learning another form of communication where applicable.
He’d been slow to start under the guise he would have plenty of time to learn before actually losing his hearing. Now here he was, staring at Izuku with watery eyes and lips parted in shock because—
I’ve always needed you.
I wish I could hear you.
I wish I could—
There was a hand on his face, Izuku’s thumb slipping under his eye and swiping away the tear that had fallen. Katsuki looked up at him and a split second later that hand moved and Izuku was sliding off the couch and onto his knees in front of Katsuki. Izuku’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a tight hug. He could feel the vibrations of words coming from Izuku’s chest and throat, but Katsuki couldn’t place them. Whatever Izuku was saying, it had to be important, but Katsuki couldn’t bring himself to deem those words more important than the feeling of strong arms holding him close. He melted into the embrace and for the first time in a long time, Katsuki let himself cry. He let himself cry for the person he’d been, the person who had been ruled by pride. That pride had led him to missing out on so much in life, and the more time that passed, the more Katsuki realized just how much he hadn’t experienced. He was also realizing just how much he’d never experience again. Katsuki cried for the person he wanted to be. A hero. Izuku’s hero. He cried for the person he would never get to be.
At some point, Izuku pulled away and hauled Katsuki to his feet. He led him back to his room, gently urging him into bed. This time, however, when Izuku turned to leave, Katsuki was conscious enough to reach out and grab his hand. With a raspy exhale of breath he said, “stay.”
So Izuku did.