Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ash is raining down like tainted snowflakes from the hazy and desolate sky, with clouds ripped apart and the sky dim. The world feels… slow and off-kilter.

Decaying. The lushness does not fill Katsuki’s bones, and the love of being alive is sucked out of him as Deku lies, dying, in his arms.

The final battle was devastating. Katsuki lays in a still-smoldering warzone, chest still aching and heaving for air that doesn’t seem to come. The air tastes stale and of raw, rot, and smoke. It lays heavy on his tongue as his mouth opens, gasping, gasping, gasping for air that does not want to come. The air around him does not fill his lungs as he aches for it to, his heart thundering in his chest as he holds his best friend close.

“K-’cch…n,” Deku’s voice barely comes out as a croak, snapping Katsuki out of his desperate hunt for air. His eyes snap down, the fraying bits of his mask snapping apart with the motion, falling aside. “Y’r… squeezing… tight,” Deku keens, face crunched in agonizing pain. Katsuki can’t imagine what he’s going through; the four ragged pieces of debris and rebar puncturing his legs and chest make for a gruesome, harrowing sight.

“So-Sorry, sorry,” Katsuki repeats, falling over himself to apologize. They don’t stop rolling off his tongue, melding into a mesh of words he can’t even figure out, hunching over the nerd. Katsuki can’t find himself to loosen his grip, even as Deku winces when his fingers move gently, pressing against bruised and broken skin. Katsuki just wants to hold him close and never let go. Mold the nerd to his body and stitch him and Deku together so Deku will use him, feed off the blood that pumps in his veins and fills his ears.

Katsuki would, will, and will give anything and everything up to save Deku. Let the world bask in his shiny smiles until he croaks at a good age–not sixteen.

Not sixteen.

“A-Are they comin…g?” Deku coughs, pale lips spattering with more droplets of blood, those dimming green eyes staring up at him through sticky lashes covered in ash. “M’getti’ tired…” Deku sighs gently, eyes drifting but always finding their way back to Katsuki.

Katsuki had radioed for help the second Deku fell from the sky like a falling angel and crashed into his arms, Shigaraki lying dead on the ground after the final strike. It was a devastating blow that he didn’t think anyone would survive.

It's ironic because it doesn’t look like Deku will survive it, either. His arms are limp, his body sagging, and his chest rising wearily, just barely taking in enough breath. Katsuki worries, Katsuki fears, and Katsuki aches.

“I… I don’t know, Deku. I... I really don’t know,” Katsuki can’t sugarcoat it, no matter how hard he fights with himself to do so. He wants to tell Deku that the cavalry is coming to save him and patch him up after saving Japan, but there’s nobody in the dusty distance. There are no thundering footsteps or crackling voices over the radios that are still working despite everything that just happened.

Nobody is rushing to the hero's aid, even when he needs it most.

“B-But maybe if I-” Katsuki moves, wincing at the coughed half-grunt of pain that Deku lets out as he does, bloodied forehead knocking against his chest. “N-No,” Deku croaks, looking up at Katsuki, agony swirling in murky jade eyes. Like a deep, never-ending lake, Katsuki could get lost exploring them. Swimming to the bottom only to find it goes deeper, deeper, and deeper.

He’ll lose himself in those eyes any day, but Katsuki fears he won’t ever be able to do it again.

“St…Stay with me? I’m… I’m scared, Kacchan,” Deku hiccups, and the shake in his voice makes Katsuki want to gag. He wants to do something, anything, but all he can do is sit here and hold Deku close.

“Okay, Okay… I’ll stay,” Katsuki chokes out, trying to put on a brave face, but it’s not working that well. Katsuki is scared to, so, so scared to lose the person who fills a majority of his heart. He plucked the anger and hatred from his soul and planted flowers in replacement. Gave Katsuki peace and a friend on a silver platter. Even if the platter was chipped, rusted, and melted from constant explosions, Deku still gave it to him.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily, Deku,” Katsuki chuckles, choking back the wet sob that threatens to break free, pushing against the backs of his teeth and his shaky, no-good grin. He doesn’t think he looks at all strong and put together like Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight would be, but he’s not Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight right now.

Right now, he’s just Katsuki.

Sixteen. A kid. Tired. Scared. Worried.

Katsuki.

He has no doubt that Deku feels the same way–stripped of his hero persona and back to that scared kid who’d crimp the fabric of his shorts and hide in Katsuki’s shadow.

Sixteen. A kid. Scared. Dying.

Izuku.

Katsuki and Izuku.

Kacchan and Deku.

“Wouldn’ expect any… differen..t,” Deku’s voice is slurring, teetering off at some points and breaking. His chest heaves violently, suddenly shooting up just far enough to choke a scream and cough up more blood. Katsuki feels the agony and horror set in as he holds Deku, grinding his teeth hard enough to hurt to keep his tears at bay.

“De-Izuku, Izuku! Breathe, breathe!” Katsuki half-screams, holding Deku, choking back horrified sounds at the amount of blood dripping from Deku’s mouth. It’s terrifying. Katsuki would never have expected to see his friend die right in front of him.

In his arms, no less.

Deku takes a shaky breath in, another small splatter of blood dripping down his chin and marring his dirty suit. The breaths seem to hurt, but Deku still follows his demand.

“That’s it, that’s it, just… focus on breathing, ‘zuku,” Katsuki chokes out, helping Deku shift slightly, no longer half-laid out over his lap, and instead leaning against his chest, limp against him and in-between his splayed legs. Deku’s sweat-soaked hair tickles his neck, making him twitch slightly, but he does nothing about it. His palms rest on Deku’s chest, and he feels the thready heartbeat under his palms and gloves long since incarcerated. They lay in a pile of ash somewhere on the battlefield, the final explosion he set off still raining down on them, smoke and smolder thick in the air.

“M’sorry,” Deku keens, head rolling against his shoulder, breath evening out slightly, which Katsuki likes to see. It fills his chest with an ember of hope, aimlessly floating about till it finds something to catch aflame. “T-That you have to see me like thi’s…” Deku hiccups, the first tear slipping down his face, cleaning a streak of Deku’s ashy cheeks. His freckles are covered by the ash, but Katsuki licks his thumb and smudges the ash away. “B-But ‘m scared, and I dun’ wanna go al-” Another choked heave of air and a hiccuping sob; Deku’s state makes Katsuki want to cry.

“Don’t say sorry, Deku,” Katsuki whispers, knocking his head against Deku’s head. One of his hands leaves Deku's chest to rest against his opposite cheek, pushing his face close to Katsuki’s. “Don’t you even think about fucking apologizing for this, Deku. I’ll kill you if another fucking ‘sorry’ comes out of your mouth,” Katsuki threatens, trying to lighten the dim and harrowing mood. It works somewhat, pulling a croaked chuckle out of Deku as the nerd leans back, lying heavy against his chest.

“M’kay…” Deku whispers, breathing out slowly. Deku’s chest rises and falls under his hands, so slow it hurts to think about, trying not to think about the heartbeat that continues to slow under his palm. “Kacchan…” Deku whispers after a moment of silence, looking up at him through thick lashes that the ash clings to, eyes becoming murkier. “C-Can you say ss’umthin? Just somethi-” Deku coughs halfway through his sentence, thrumming harshly on the strings that Katsuki’s heart is made of.

“I... You know that All Might auction you showed me? The one with the person who kept outbidding ya? That’s me. I’m gonna win that stupid fucking auction for ya, nerd. I know how hard you’ve worked these past few months, n’ the old hag gave me a big allowance last month, so I had enough to keep out-bidding you,” Katsuki huffs, watching Deku’s face scrunch softly. “I also went into it wanting the damn thing, but I like seeing ya’ happy, so I decided to win it for you,” Katsuki huffs, picking at the frayed and torn edges of Deku’s hero suit, scrubbing his thumb gently against bloodied and bruised skin, blotched in ways that Katsuki is sure to burn into his mind. He’ll never get the look of Deku, skewered with rebar and bleeding out, out of his mind. No matter how much he’ll scrub at the stains, they’ll never come out.

He knows it.

“I can’t believe it was you all that time…” Deku wheezes out softly, a pout pulling at bloodied and cracked lips. I guess you’ll win the bid anyway…” Deku says softly, head tilting away, sadness and resignation clear in hazy orbs. Katsuki grits his teeth because somewhere on his broken phone, in an opened tab, the auction is ticking down, with Katsuki still the highest bidder for that stupid All Might figure.

“Nah, you’ll be there to out-bid me,” Katsuki huffs out, trying to ignore the wobble in the back of his throat.

Katsuki might win that auction, but he’s losing at everything else. The threads of control are slipping from his fingers and burning as they go down, cutting into his skin and making him hiss. It hurts, knowing that Deku won’t get to swipe the auction out from under him at the last seconds - like he’s done so many times before, the little shit - but instead, the timer will run out, and he’ll be named the winner.

Winner. Winner. Winner.

“You’ll swipe it out from under me just like you did with the Bronze Age figure,” Katsuki huffs, still bitter about that. The amount of times he’s passed Deku’s open room and seen that fucking figurine sitting proudly on the shelves in its little glass case, yet, Katsuki thinks it belongs there. Sitting proudly on those well-dusted shelves and loved even more with each glance Deku gave it, Katsuki didn’t mind losing the auction.

Even if he did want the figurine, he wasn’t going to say that outright to Deku, who looked so damn happy when the package came.

“I’m still salty about that, but it’s whatever,” Katsuki looks down at Deku, feeling his shoulders hike up slightly as Deku stares up at him. His face is passive and slow to blink, sprinkles of ash falling off his eyelashes as he does.

“You can have it,” Deku whispers, licking his lips and smearing the blood that’s staining them, eyes welling with even more tears. They glitter in the corners of Deku’s eyes, spilling down with each tentative blink Deku does. “I won’t be able to love it after this… so you can have it. Just put it next to the one you win, hm?” Deku smiles, smiles, at him, making Katsuki bite his lip. He can feel the sting of tears in his own eyes, biting down hard and breaking the skin of his lip once more, feeling the iron taste drip into his mouth and onto his tongue.

“It’s gonna be in your room, where you’ll be soon, nerd,” Katsuki chokes out. “Alright? You aren’t dying here, you fucking bastard. Stop giving up, and if you try to give me your fucking will right now, I'll kill you and resurrect you,” He growls out, trying to shield himself from the barrage of agony that is starting to rain down on them. He can feel the somberness in the air, which is so painful and heavy that it hurts to breathe.

Deku sighs but says nothing more, turning into his neck, his cold nose pressing against the collum of his throat. Katsuki’s pulse jumps because Deku is like ice. He’s always run cold, but this is different.

“Keep goin’,” Deku asks, begs, pleads, with a shake in his throat and a down-tick of words hiding in Katsuki’s neck. Katsuki sighs softly, heating his palms up to try and warm Deku. His palms press against Deku’s chest, feeling the soft, thready hum as Deku feels the warmth.

“The old hag wants me to come for dinner in a couple of days… dunno if that’s gonna happen anymore cuz’ of all of this bullshit, but I was really looking forward to it. The old man has been calling non-stop about the latest line for the brand. He’s also talked about sketching up some possible merch for us and wanted my opinion on it,” Katsuki takes a deep breath in, feeling the first tear fall. He’s so scared.

He just wants to be home, lounging on the couch with his mom and dad beside him, watching shitty romcoms, and eating paprika popcorn or caramel in his dad’s case. He and his mom would shout at the stupid girls who would always fall for the stupid men, and his dad would chime in on occasion.

Katsuki misses that. He wants that. Right now. To be teleported there and to have none of this bullshit to be going on. A leap into a nicer, more peaceful timeline.

He just wants his mom and dad.

“I… I was really excited to eat Dad’s paprika popcorn again and watch all the shows and movies we’ve missed since I moved into the dorms,” Katsuki hiccups. He feels his teeth clatter together, and his shoulders shake as the first tear falls.

One hand pulls up from Deku’s chest hastily to wipe the tear away. How could he be crying when Deku’s dying? He should be the one holding strong for the nerd, but here he is, crying.

Deku’s hand snatches his wrist before he can make it to his face, black whip bracing the broken and messed-up digits of Deku’s hand, that familiar buzzing feeling dancing against his skin. Katsuki chokes on another grunted weep, mouth clenched down hard.

“S’okay, Kacchan…” Deku hiccups, the wobble in his voice becoming harder to choke back, clearly. Tears pool down Deku’s face, cleaning his face of the ash in streaky stripes. “I wan’ that too… I want my mom,” Deku cries, “I just wanna be at the dining table eating her food…” A belted sob from the both of them echoes in the quiet battlefield; foreheads pressed together harshly.

“I want that too, Deku. I want that for you, n’ I want it for me too,” Katsuki cries, hand pressed against the side of Deku’s jaw, bracing the nerd’s head as their foreheads touch. “M’ scared, Deku. I don’t wanna lose you. Who will I be without you?”

“You’ll be Kacchan,” Deku sniffles, “You’ll always be Kacchan, even without me,” Deku wobbles, closing his eyes as tears continue to fall.

“No, I won’t,” Katsuki sobs, chest heaving with each wracked sob. “I can’t be Kacchan without my Deku,” Panic sets in when Deku’s eyes won’t open, still bleeding tears. Deku’s head flops back when Katsuki pulls away, throat clogging up and chest rising and falling harshly.

“No. No, no, no, no, Deku! DEKU! IZUKU!” Katsuki screams, feeling his words rattle in his throat. He shakes Deku to the point where the boy is flailing back and forth. Katsuki panics even harder when the nerd won’t open his eyes.

“Open your fucking eyes, Deku! Just open them, c’mon!” Katsuki screeches, finally taking a desperate step and pressing on Deku’s side, where an open wound sits. Katsuki can feel the visceral jolt, and the suddenness of Deku’s scream makes him reel back.

Deku’s body writhes in agony, shaking his hand off and curling in on himself, breaths hitching on bitten-off screams.

“Sorry, Sorry, I’m sorry,” Katsuki chokes out, heaving out wheezed apologies as Deku collapses into him, sweat dripping down his pale face, mixed with the never-stopping tears. “You- You just didn’t open your eyes, and I- I,” Katsuki chokes back another sob and gags on it, turning his face away to cough and hack the other way, panic drooling from his mouth.

Deku’s face scrunches up, his chest rising and falling in sudden, harsh movements as he starts to cry. “I-It was so scary! Kacchan, I almost left you! I couldn’t stop it! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to; I didn’t, I—” Deku screeches out another belted sob as he holds the boy close, sobbing quietly into the side of his face.

“It- It’s… okay,” Katsuki whispers, “I’m not mad… I was scared to,” Katsuki chokes out, holding Deku close. Deku cries and cries, tears spilling down his face and not stopping.

Katsuki takes a moment to breathe, tears falling down his face. He’s tired and scared.

He’s just a kid on a desolate battlefield, with no backup or medics in sight, holding his dying friend. He and Deku are just teens out here, way in over their heads and alone, with nobody to lean on but each other. Aizawa isn’t here, nor is Present Mic or any of the other teachers. All Might is somewhere, and so is everyone else.

Katsuki looks down at his side and finds the walkie-talkie he used to radio for help earlier. His hand scrabbles for it - trying not to look at how it’s covered in blood. Deku’s blood - and picks it up, clicks it on, and presses the button, met with a moment of crackling static before he begins to talk.

“Anyone… come in, anyone? I’m requesting immediate backup… one is severely injured… Please, come in…” Katsuki is desperate; he can see, feel, and hear it. He just needs someone to come and save Deku and find them before it is too late. “Aizawa-sensei… please come save us,”

Katsuki tries again and again, clicking to different radio channels and repeating the same message over and over as Deku mumbles beside him, clearly trying to keep himself awake and aware after the previous scare.

After clicking back to the first channel he talked in, Katsuki tosses the walkie-talkie down in defeat, gritting his teeth and forcing back the tears that have started to slow down, some still dripping down his cheek and under his chin.

“It’s… okay, Kacchan. You tried,” Deku whispers, turning his head to him. Do you… think we could lay down?” Deku asks, licking his lips once more. His eyes start to shake slightly. Deku’s losing focus, and that scares him. It hurts his soul.

The delicate flowers Deku tended to in the garden of his soul are wilting, and he’s sure the ones in Deku’s soul are, too.

“Yeah, yeah, we can,” Katsuki whispers, licking his thumb to brush away the rest of the ash and grime, marring Deku’s soft, freckled cheeks. Deku's freckles are revealed as he wipes away the grime with the little hand wipes from his utility belt. Four main ones are on each chubby cheek, smack dab in the middle, and surrounded by thousands of smaller ones that resemble the stars starting to shine in the dimming sky with the blanket of nightfall thrown over Japan.

Katsuki stares momentarily at Deku’s cheeks, watching a stray tear work its way down Deku’s cheek, but Katsuki stops it with his thumb, brushing it away before it can meet Deku’s jaw. The freckles on Deku’s cheeks are delicate pecks and kisses from the sun’s paintbrush that was used to paint Deku into existence, with each meticulous detail laid on Deku’s skin. Even if the sun had painted Deku’s cheeks, the moon and the stars call to him. Deku outshines those pathetic stars, though; the light and life that was once in those beautiful eyes would outdo the stars. He’d orbit those stars and be the one star everyone would look up into the sky to find. The one that would guide weary travelers back home and into the safety of their loved one’s arms.

Deku would shine forever brighter than any of the other stars up there. He’d overtake the entire night sky to be his stage, to sit on a swing built from fraying, braided rope, and raw-edge wood, and shine. Sparkle in the darkness and bring hope to the people below. Dip his fingers into the lake, which is the sky, and watch the ripples dance around his fingers.

Deku would be beautiful in the sky, but Katsuki wants him to be beautiful here on earth. To see those airy curls float in the wind and that shiny smile to guide him home. To be the light that leads him back home. Take his hand and clean it after their spars, wiping away the soot and ash and bandaging any cuts. Talk about things and shows they’ve watched as their training playlist plays from Deku’s phone. Ignore the music and focus on each other’s voices.

Katsuki lets the weight of being lost without Deku settle on his shoulders. Like a heavy cape draped over a child’s shoulders, Katsuki feels weighed down and shackled. Held to the ground and kept there.

Because when Deku is not here, he’ll drift. He'll get lost on the beaten path with nobody to take him down the right one. He'll turn left instead of right and step into thorns instead of daisies. He'll fall into the pits of danger instead of being pulled out. He'll sink into the oil and let it consume him, embers and smoke eaten whole.

The stars are so pretty,” Deku wheezes out, staring hazily up at the night sky as Katsuki lays back with him, hands lacing together. Katsuki can feel Deku’s hand squeeze him, and he squeezes back, palm still warm from heating Deku up. “I love looking up at them before I go to bed… I’ve always wondered if it’s warm or cold up there amongst them. If they’d hug me close to keep me warm up there, or if they’d just watch as I drift,” Deku whispers as if telling him the secrets of Deku’s little universe. Katsuki listens, oh, he listens. Engrains every word the boy speaks into his mind and will do so till he runs out of space and paper.

He wants to make a diagram of Deku’s universe. Paint every planet green, dot every star, and study it. Find every secret in this little universe that will never get to orbit the sun again. Stopped in its path and held down, forever stagnant.

The little universe that wants but never could.

“They’d be stupid to let you drift. Or maybe they’d let you drift out of jealousy because you’ll outshine them,” Katsuki whispers, feeling the tears drip down his face once more. “You’d be far brighter than they could ever wish to be,” He sniffles, clearing his throat wetly.

“I’ll find out soon enough, I guess,” Deku hums softly, his thumb brushing against the back of Katsuki’s hand, fingers laced together. He doesn’t want to let go; he never does. “Kacchan, when I’m gone, what will you think of the stars?” Deku asks, head turning to look at him, not even surprised to find Katsuki already staring.

Katsuki’s eyes don’t drift from Deku as his bottom lip starts to wobble. “I think I’d hate them for taking you away from me. I don’t think I’d ever be able to look at them again. Even though I’d know you will be up there, I don’t think I could bring myself to do it, Deku,” Katsuki whispers out, voice shaking and threatening to break on him.

“They’re all so pretty, but I don’t like them taking my moon and stars away from me. How could I love the thing that takes you away from me?” Katsuki asks, choking down a sob. “I can’t love something that’s doing that,”

Deku’s other hand comes to lay on his, shifting onto his less injured side to face Katsuki. He has a peaceful look on his face even as tears drip down it. Katsuki doesn’t like that face, choking down another sob as he shuffles close to Deku, pulling the boy into his chest as their legs tangle gently, aware of the wounds marring Deku’s entire body. Katsuki can feel the warmness of Deku’s blood soak into his hero suit, but he ignores that, hiccuping softly as their foreheads touch once more.

“Maybe one day you’ll love them again like I love them… When you look up at them again, I’ll be there waiting for you, Kacchan. Just like I’d wait on the stoop of the park for you. I’d wait an eternity just waiting for you to look at me again,” Deku whispers, tears falling slower as his eyes flutter gently, an involuntary motion. Katsuki sobs hard at that, chest wracking with emotion he cannot stop.

“No, no.” He keens out, his voice warbling with agony. “Just a little longer, just wait a little longer, please, Izuku,” Katsuki begs, wishing the reinforcements would hurry up. “I’m not ready; I can’t lose you. Don’t make me go on alone,” he cries and cries, wishing this could all be reversed. Wind back time and finish off Shigaraki and All for One before it ever came to this.

He is lying in a quiet battlefield with Deku dying right in front of his eyes.

“I can’t, Kacchan… ‘M so tired, I really tried,” Deku cries, bottom lip putting into a pout. “I can’t try any longer,” Deku shakes his head, tearing Katsuki apart inside. He feels ripped apart at the seams, one by one. His body hurts, and his heart aches, beating so fast he worries it’ll fall out. Crash out of his chest and bear itself for Izuku to see the raw agony he’s going through right now.

“Kacchan,” Deku whispers, voice sounding oh-so-sweet and strong under his breath, staring into his eyes as Katsuki weeps, barely able to see past the tears that drip down the side of his face. “When you are ready to look up at the stars and love them again, I’ll be shining so bright, you won’t be able to miss me… Okay? I’ll be so bright you’ll need sunglasses at night,” Deku giggles, a sound that he knows he’ll never hear again. It’s so delicate and gone in the gentle wind blowing through the field they sit in, a crater in the middle of Japan.

“Tell Auntie Mitsuki and Uncle Masaru I’m sorry for missing the dinner invite that’s next week… and tell Mama that I tried to make it home, but I couldn’t,” Deku weeps, and Katsuki weeps as well. His heart is torn into fragments he doesn’t know he’ll ever be able to put back together.

Deku would know how to put it back together, though. He would take every piece and use glue, and he would love to put it back together and give it back to Katsuki.

“Tell Mama I’m really sorry, too… T’ll ‘ll mmight that to’o…” Deku slurs, voice cracking with how heavy his sobs are, curling into Katsuki’s body due to the sobs aggravating his wounds.

“Stop apologizing, nerd,” Katsuki cries, holding Deku close. His hands dig into the loose fabric of Deku’s hero suit on his back, feeling the fraying fabric tear under his grip. “Stop it… just stop it. Save your strength,” Katsuki pleads with the boy, wishing to every deity, god, ,em>whatever that is out there to make the medics and everyone else hurry up to save Deku.

How could they not check on them? Find them?

Deku just saved Japan from All For One and Shigaraki’s wrath, and yet they’ve been forgotten. They are a blip in this terrible war of chaos and suffering, a thought forgotten.

“Nuhuh, got… g’tta… get this out,” Deku keens, shaking his head as Katsuki feels his face scrunch up, teeth grinding together. Even if he wants to fight the boy on that, he doesn’t. Instead, he holds Deku closer, foreheads pressing together so hard it almost hurts, but Katsuki doesn’t care.

“M’ sorry too, Kacchan… Y’u having to… see me like th’s…” Deku cries, taking soft, deep gulps in, which are barely enough to inflate his chest, shivering gently in his hold. “But m’ glad it’s… yo-u with me, I dun’ want anyone else… I want m’y K’cch’n…” Deku smiles ever-so-gently, pulling at the cracks of his lips, his face so passive that it makes Katsuki yearn.

He yearns for a day when he’ll see this face somewhere other than a battlefield, a day when Deku will be dappled in soft sunshine, with clouds dotting the background in that big blue sky, a day when Deku will say these things to him anywhere else.

He dreamed of this day, but he’d never expected it to be something out of his nightmares instead. A memory forever corrupted by Deku’s bloodied and limp body in front of him, crashing from the sky and lying next to him. Dying under the stars instead of living under the bright blue sky.

He thought this would go differently, but he isn’t going to get a do-over.

“Jus..t Kacchan,” Deku whispers, breath floating out from his lips, so gentle and lasting. His eyes flutter shut, and Deku does not reopen them.

Katsuki weeps, oh, he weeps. His body lurches with a scream so harsh and loud his ears barely register it, the sound of static overwhelming him as he holds his best friend’s dead body in his arms, curling around him to just hope that those murky green eyes will open again and all will be right with the world.

Place Katsuki’s world back on its axis, but instead, it’s smashed with a sledgehammer.

Katsuki presses his face into Deku’s neck and screams. He screams and screams until his voice cracks and his throat is raw from everything, and yet, Deku does not wake up. His soul is gone, and his body is the only remaining thing of Deku.

Katsuki feels like he’s the one who died here. His soul is gone, all his blood drained from his body, and his body limp. Even if his body is tired - the fights of this perilous war having caught up to him and slamming into him full-force, bowling him over - his hands still grip tightly at the back of Deku’s hero suit. His eyes feel heavy, still dripping with tears and stinging.

He doesn’t want to let go, and he doesn’t.

“M’ sleepy, ‘zuku…” Katsuki whispers, remembering the sleepovers he and Deku used to have. Deku would stay up just to look at the stars when they were at their most vibrant - at midnight. Katsuki would be dragged out of his bed and helped up on the little desk that sat right under the window. They’d pull his blinds up together and watch the stars as they shifted and twinkled in under the dark blanket of night. Even though Katsuki was always half-asleep in those moments, he still remembers them.

His mind fills with those memories and his eyes fill with the shagginess of Deku’s forever soft but matted curls, petting his hand through them for the last time.

He holds Deku close, knowing this will be the last time he’ll feel the weight of the nerd in his arms, closing his eyes, static running through his ears.

He doesn’t hear the shouts of his name nor the thundering footsteps he waited hours for as he drifts off. He imagines placing a DVD of his and Deku’s memories together on a loop in his mind as he succumbs to exhaustion.

-

Katsuki wakes up in the hospital. It’s a slow, dreary awakening to the beep of machines all around him and the whispered voice of his parents. His eyes stare off into nothing, hands - he can feel the bandages wrapping around his hands, tight but not too constricting - grasping at the sheets of the hospital cot he lays on.

Katsuki doesn’t have the luxury of his mind forgetting the memories and the weight of Deku in his arms, dying slowly as they talk under the stars. It seems Katsuki was finally found, but it was far too late. He’d rather have died on that battlefield with Deku than be here, alive and breathing.

Katsuki sits up in the bed, ignoring the pain and aches of his body, bending uncomfortably on his surely bruised torso. His hands pull at the oxygen mask on his face, hating the way the little green straps bite into his cheeks, and his hands can’t feel his skin due to the bandages.

“Sweetie, be careful,” His mother gasps, shooting up from the dinky little hospital chair that’s likely been biting into her back for the entire duration of Katsuki’s unconsciousness. “Let me,” Katsuki lets his hands fall away from the mask, frustration clinging to his hunched shoulders at the fact he couldn’t get the damn mask off.

His hands don’t feel like they’re his own, and his body feels hollow.

His mom carefully takes the oxygen mask off him, setting it to the side in case he needs it. He doesn’t think he will because he’d rather suffocate and meet Deku up in the stars than be here right now.

“Katsuki…” His father says slowly, clearly anxious. He doesn’t hide it well, fingers rubbing together, little embers crackling between them. “Kiddo…” His father’s hand is warm as it settles on his back, and he shatters.

Katsuki can feel his shoulders hunch uncomfortably, eyes widening as tears spill from them. A wordless scream comes out of Katsuki’s mouth as his head knocks against his shaking knees, hands grasping at the hospital gown he’s wearing.

“He’s dead… he’s dead, Deku’s dead, I’m gonna-” Katsuki gags, and suddenly there’s a bucket shoved into his arms and two warm hands petting at his back as he heaves up nothing but bile as spit, sobbing and screaming into the damn yellow bucket.

Yellow. Like Deku’s stupid, cheap yellow backpack.

The bucket is gently pried for his hands, and his mother replaces it, allowing Katsuki to sink into her embrace as he sobs. His mother’s embrace is warm and something Katsuki needs. Her hands trail up and down his back, careful not to irritate the various scrapes and wounds on his body.

“Katsuki… oh my baby boy,” His mom’s words barely break past the static in his ears as he sobs, grinding his teeth as he tucks his head into her shoulder. His dad shuffles behind him, sandwiching Katsuki between his parents, providing as much comfort as he’s sure they can.

Nothing will console him, though. Nothing will fill the ache in his chest that Deku left him with.

Nothing is going to make him feel better, but seeing that stupid fucking nerd in a hospital gown trodding down the hallway and peeking into his room, all bright and shiny even after just escaping death.

Guess he didn’t escape it this time.

“Ma’,” Katski cries, picking his head up as her hands come to cup his cheeks, wiping away the tears, but they just keep coming. “He… he died in my arms… he-,” Katsuki tries to say something more, but it doesn’t work, nor come out of his mouth past the sobs that clog up his throat.

“Oh my love, I’m so sorry,” His mom’s words are nice, but they don’t do anything. He can’t feel much past anger and sorrow. It eats him whole, crushing his bones and drinking his tears to feed itself. He’s sustaining grief with his body and soul, allowing it a place to fester and spoil him.

A knock at the door makes him sniffle and wipe his tears, picking his head up slightly. Standing in the doorway after pushing the sliding door to his hospital room open is Aizawa-sensei.

The sorrow and agony that filled him is quickly replaced by blazing anger. His hands curl and shake, teeth grinding together from how tight his jaw has become.

Bakugou…” Aizawa starts slowly, clearly testing the waters.

Katsuki flings the oxygen mask at Aizawa, watching him dodge it with a sorrowful look on his face. His parents gasp and try to scold him, but their voices are not heard by Katsuki, and their grasping hands do not hold him back.

When his bare feet hit the ground, he wobbles for a moment but stands strong, pulling the IV pole with him.

“Katsuki! Please, get back in bed, you’re hurt!” His mom’s voice is filled with worry and his father’s follows soon after. “Kiddo, please,”

“You…” Katsuki seethes, seethes, with anger. It is blinding, flashing across his vision as his bandages darken with the heat coming from his palms, little ribbons of smoke penetrating the breathable gauze. “You left us in that fucking battlefield! Deku saved fucking Japan, and yet he dies in my arms while everyone else is checked out!” Katsuki lets his frustration bubble inside of him before it pours out. “Do you know how it feels to watch your best friend die in your arms? Hear him say sorry for having to see him in that state, huh?!” Katsuki grabs at Aizawa’s shirt, pulling the man close, tears clinging to his vision.

Aizawa is saying nothing, face downtrodden and filled with the same grief Katsuki feels inside of him.

“I-I… I had to hear him ask me to tell his mom he is sorry he couldn’t make it home. I had to hear how he wanted me to apologize to my parents that he couldn’t make it to the dinner they invited him to. Like he was fucking sorry for dying. I’ll never get the image of him dead in my arms out of my mind,” Katsuki growls in pure, unadulterated frustration, tears dripping down his cheeks.

“I’m… I’m sorry we couldn’t get to you both in time… We were swamped with tending to everyone and trying to split our resources the best we could with how little we had…” Aizawa apologies. It’s tasteless and bitter on Katsuki’s tongue and not at all satisfying.

“And yet those fucking resources couldn’t tend to the person who saved your sorry asses… The fucking sixteen-year-old dying in the battlefield!” Katsuki’s voice raises, strong and steady, even as his heart shakes in his chest. “Or did you forget that part when your resources were spread a bit too thin?” Katsuki’s hand, which had been gripping Aizawa’s shirt, pushes the man back, watching him barely stumble as Katsuki steps back.

“I… I’d like you to leave. I want some peace so I can see if I can try and scrub the image of my best friend dead in my arms out of my mind,” Katsuki doesn’t bother turning around, shuffling back toward the bed and crawling into it, hissing when a sharp pain sears up his side, knees buckling under him as he crashes into the edge of the bed

“Katsuki! Nurse, someone get a nurse!” His mother’s screech hurts his ears as his father is quick to his side, rolling over on the bed and hitting the floor hard as he helps Katsuki to the ground. He tries to regain his breath as the pain overwhelms him.

He wonders if this is how Deku felt.

-

Katsuki wakes up again, only to find a dimmed room devoid of people. His parents are probably getting food.

Scrubbing his face, Katsuki doesn’t dare close his eyes, as he knows the image of Deku, all dead and stillfucking peaceful, will appear. He doesn’t want to see it; he doesn’t even want to think about it, and yet, it fills his head. Painted on every crevice of his mind, he knows he won’t be getting that out for a long, long time.

“Kats?” A tentative voice calls for him, making him look up to see Shitty Hair’s face peeking through the crack of the door, hair loose and not in his usual up-do. He’s in a hospital garb as well, bandages spanning from wrist to elbow, and a little piece of gauze on his cheek, as well as two butterfly bandages above his brow.

“What?” Katsuki grunts, picking at the thin blankets that lay over him. He barely looks up, instead keeping his eyes trained on the plain, textured blankets under him. He can hear Shitty Hair walking into the room, but his footsteps are not alone. It’s probably the idiot squad that’s somehow wrangled Katsuki into being their squad leader.

“I… we brought you food; Kami managed to get food delivered here so you don’t have to eat hospital food…” Katsuki barely looks up, raising an eyebrow when a plastic bag is set between his legs with a heavenly smell wafting out of the bag. Katsuki wants to eat - needs to because his fucking stomach won’t stop growling at him - but he doesn’t think he can bring himself to do so.

How can he eat such delicious food when he knows it’ll taste bland and boring to him?

Deku took all the life in Katsuki’s world with him as he went to the stars, leaving Katsuki a hollow shell of himself, with greyed vision and a blank face. Nothing feels full of life anymore, and nothing feels good anymore.

“I know you sure as hell don’t wanna eat right now, but you gotta, man…” Tape Face’s voice is smooth but gritty, a voice of reason in the group, oddly enough.

Tape Face is right, unfortunately so. His stomach gurgles loud enough to make him wince as he pulls the styrofoam takeout box out and sets it down. His stomach growls happily at the sight, but it churns at the same time. Anxiety and nausea make their way up his throat, and his nose scrunches slightly. The box is warm to the touch, even through the bandages.

Deku would want you to eat, he thinks, the nerd’s name leaving an even more bitter taste in his mouth. Deku wouldn’t want you to starve. He’d feel guilty, dumbass.

Katsuki gulps hard, swallowing his anxiety and nausea as he opens the takeout box slowly, biting his lip when he sees red-hot mapo tofu waiting for him. Katsuki suspects if he looks back into the bag, he’ll find extra sauce.

“Aizawa-sensei let us use his card, so we got food from your favorite restaurant,” Racoon eyes says gently, settling at the edge of Katsuki’s hospital bed, her hand placed gently on his ankle. “Extra rice and sauce, just like you like it,” Her tone is gentle and tentative, which Katsuki appreciates somewhat. His ears have yet to stop ringing, even though it’s been three days since the war.

Three days.

Three days since Deku died in his arms.

Three days since Katsuki lost a part of himself.

“There’s a fridge in your room if you don’t want it right now,” She adds, thumb brushing across his ankle bone as he stares at the pile of rice and mapo tofu.

“S’fine,” Katsuki whispers, clearing his throat and ignoring the slight twitch of his eyebrow when pain shoots through his throat. Katsuki knows he’s screamed himself raw when Deku died, and his throat has yet to bounce back, even with all the medication given to him and the multiple kisses from Recovery Girl. “Gotta eat anyway…” Katsuki grunts, shuffling back so his back is braced by the pillows his parents brought from home. They feel nice, and they smell like home. A subtle sugary smell to them clings to the fabric and envelops Katsuki.

Katsuki pulls the plastic covering the utensils apart, grabbing the spoon and tossing the others to the side. He pulls his food close, but not before remembering to grab the extra sauce container in the plastic bag. It’s wrapped in cling wrap, which Katsuki struggles slightly with pulling apart due to the loss of dexterity in his hands because of all of the stupid bandages.

He can see someone step closer, probably to try to help him, but Katsuki pulls himself away. Using his teeth, he digs a hole into the top of the wrapping, big enough for his fingers to get in and pull the plastic away.

He doesn’t want any help, or else that’d make him feel even more helpless than he already feels.

-

Grief is weird. Katsuki doesn’t like it, doesn’t even like the damn word. Makes him feel torn apart and exposed, inner workings set on display for the whole world to see.

Deku’s funeral was beautiful. Hundreds upon hundreds of people came from all over Japan to pay tribute to the boy who saved them all. Oddly, the funeral was full of life and color. Vases with all different kinds of vibrant flowers set around, with the most beautiful ones right next to the photo of Deku, who looked so full of life with his shiny smile and dimpled cheeks, held up by a stand.

Katsuki was in the first row, right in the middle, and sat next to Auntie, who wept with the sorrow of a thousand mothers. Tears ever-falling and never stopping, she wept and wept.

Katsuki, though, did not shed a tear. He didn’t think he could if he tried—his reserves had long since dried up. His face remained eerily passive, even as he felt weighed down by sorrow. He couldn’t even offer words of comfort to Auntie because he wouldn’t know what to say. She didn’t give him any either, just dabbing her eyes with the same handkerchief over the course of the funeral.

He felt like he was moving through time slowly, stuck to his seat and unable to move. Even so, the funeral was over in what felt like a blink of an eye. Deku was buried, and Katsuki was led from the ceremony by his mom and dad, one hand each in his, helping him walk away as he shuffled forward, feeling as if nothing was worth it anymore. Head down, tears finally falling, Katsuki does not look up at the sunny sky. He does not pick his head up as he feels the wind pick up, blowing through his hair, feeling eerily akin to Deku’s touch.

-

Katsuki does not return to U.A. when it reopens. As if nothing had ever happened, Nezu boasts about the newly equipped campus, detailing all the extra security and recreation aspects in the hologram.

“And finally, a statue has been erected in hono-” The hologram doesn’t have enough time to finish the sentence before Katsuki chucks it harshly at his wall, hearing it shatter and litter his bedroom floor with little pieces of tech.

In honor? How can they honor Deku’s memory when they weren’t even there to save him? They would have been there if they were thinking about the sixteen-year-old who just saved Japan, but no, they were too busy dusting off their knees and tending to the sick.

All while Deku died. Suffered. Bled out in Katsuki’s arms and had the nerve to apologize for it.

There would be no statue or “honor” if they had been there! Had saved him! Had… Had kept Katsuki from seeing his best friend die in his arms.

“Honor.”

What a stupid fucking word.

“Isn’t that a fucking awful word, Deku?” Katsuki chuckles, mirthless with his tone, as he buries his head into his still-bandaged hands. “Honor… they wanna honor your memory with a fucking statue…” Katsuki can feel his shoulders hike high, pressing against the bottoms of his ears. His fingers dig into his forehead, a shaky, painful grin pulling at his face. “A statue is all that you’re worth to them in their eyes… How can they not see that you were everything?” Katsuki can feel the tears well in his eyes, staining the bandages.

“How can a statue replace you…? Will they know how to carve your freckles? Will they know your scars down to every detail? Will they even know how to make this fucking statue you?” Katsuki asks, wishing for an answer. He wants to know, to storm into Nezu’s office and throw the handful of broken tech pieces at him, and ask him if a statue is right.

If a statue will heal Japan, will save it as Deku did?

Will a statue quell Eri’s nightmares? Will it tamp down her hatred of not being able to go with the search party that found him and Deku? Will it fix her hatred of her quirk? After all, she had been training for a moment like this. A moment to save someone and use her curse as the blessing that Deku taught her it was.

Will a statue get All Might out of the hospital? The pro has fallen ill after Deku’s funeral, unable to cope with his grief. Will it save the man from the crushing grief of seeing his protege immortalized so young?

No. It won’t.

A statue made of porcelain, bronze, stone, anything will never heal the wounds Deku’s death inflicted on them. Katsuki cannot be sewn by a needle that does not exist. His heart will forever weep, a never-ending stain of blood on the beating muscle.

“Kiddo…” His father’s voice startles him, hands pulling away from his face as he startles, quirk heating his palms. His dad looks tired, eyebags barely hidden behind the thick rims of his glasses. His spikes are messier than usual, looking far from the usual, well-kept hairdo he has.

Katsuki is sure he is the same. His face feels heavy, and his eyes carry a near-constant puff around them. He also has heavy eyebags and dried tear stains he’s too tired to wipe away.

“It’s late. What are you doing up?” His father takes his soft sigh as a sign to enter his messy, dark room. The curtains—black-out, as the first time he looked up to the stars, he had a panic attack and burned his hands—are pulled over his window, which is probably the reason Katsuki’s up so late. He doesn’t have the strength to pull them back, fearing seeing those brilliant stars twinkling down on him.

“I dunno,” Katsuki whispers, “I don’t even know what time it is,” Katsuki can’t keep the wobble out of his voice, so utterly bone-tired. He’s barely been able to sleep, as even the distant galaxy in his eyelids sends him into a spiral. The mere thought of Deku being up there, in the stars, like he wanted to, makes him want to vomit.

“Come on, lay down,” his dad’s gentle voice says as he shuffles into his room, uncaring about the clothes and towels littering his floor. It’s almost four in the morning, kiddo,” Katsuki gulps and doesn’t say anything, feeling ashamed. He doesn’t want to sleep even though he needs it. The only sleep Katsuki gets is on medication and from passing out due to utter exhaustion.

“I… I can’t.” Katsuki whispers, watching his dad pull his covers over him, righting them from the tangled mess he had kicked them into. “Every time I close m’ fucking eyes, I see…-” Katsuki’s fingers thread into the front of his hair, pulling at the strands when his chest starts to tighten, emotions flooding his exhausted body.

Katsuki peers through his tear-clumped lashes as his dad settles down next to him, eyeing him with a silent ‘scoot over’ in his eyes. Katsuki does, feeling his body starting to sag as his father pulls him close, tucking him into his side. Even though Katsuki is only two inches shorter than his father, he feels like a toddler again. Tucked into his dad’s side as thunder crashed outside, so loud it terrified Katsuki.

“You need sleep, kiddo, okay? Your old man will be here to keep you safe,” Katsuki bites his bottom lip, working it between his teeth as he chokes back sobs. Katsuki shakes his head as he turns on his side, throwing a leg over his dad’s as he sniffles.

“I don’t wanna be afraid of the stars,” Katsuki whispers, too tired to keep his walls up. His dad will always knock them down, though. Katsuki wouldn’t have been able to keep it from him even if everything that happened didn’t.

“The stars don’t want you to be afraid of them, either. Whenever I look up into the sky, they seem so much more beautiful than they ever did. I think they are waiting for you to look at them again, to show you they mean no harm,” Katsuki bites down another sob, feeling tears slide down his face as his dad cards his hand through his hair, petting his head gently.

“I think the stars want to love you and show you they love you just as much as Izuku loved you. They’ll always be there when you are ready to love them back,” That pulls an ugly sob out of Katsuki, tears dripping onto his bitten and cracked lips. Katsuki closes his eyes tentatively as his dad continues to pet his head gently, unable to stare out of the blurry cloud that covers his vision.

“Go to sleep, Katsuki, I’ll be here,” A yawn works his way up Katsuki’s throat as his dad shifts, probably to put his glasses on his nightstand, but Katsuki barely moves, head feeling so heavy and mind finally shutting up.

Katsuki finds himself staring at a glassy galaxy devoid of stars just this once; the blacks and deep grey purples meld into each other as they swirl idly, lulling Katsuki to sleep.

His body feels heavy like he’s made of stone, but Katsuki finally sleeps. His mind shuts off, and his head empties. His dad’s warmth is constant as Katsuki uses him as a pillow, listening to his heartbeat.

-

Mitsuki wakes to a cold bed, and Masaru’s natural warmth is gone. Her brows furrow as she stretches, pulling her arms over her head as she sighs softly, feeling her back loosen. Masaru is an early riser, even earlier than their son is–was–so it’s not unlike him to be gone by the time she’s awake. Still, as she checks the clock–just a handful of minutes past seven in the morning–she wonders why the dent on his side of his bed isn’t at least still somewhat warm.

Mitsuki sits up, eyeing her husband’s side of the bed. The covers are thrown over each other, his glasses are gone, and his glass of water is half empty.

“I don’t smell breakfast… Is he working on our new collection?” Mitsuki wonders aloud to herself as she pushes herself off the bed. Foregoing her slippers, she shuffles out of their bedroom, enjoying the cold hardwood under her feet as she pads down the hallway.

As usual, she always checks on Katsuki. It’s become routine for her ever since Izuku’s passing.

Thinking about the boy–forever sixteen tears at her heart whenever Katsuki utters it when he cries–makes her heart ache, and her chest tighten. She squeezes at her sleep shirt, which is actually her husband’s, as she approaches Katsuki’s room as quietly as she possibly can. God knows her boy needs every second of sleep he can get.

The number of times his agonized screams have echoed in the house after jolting from a nightmare–a memory– have been engrained into her memory and the walls of their house. Quite literally, as singe marks from Katsuki’s violent panic attacks bruise their baseboards, immortalizing this painful time.

Mitsuki steps up to Katsuki’s door, hand grasping the handle gently, only to find the door open gently with a simple grab. Her eyebrows raise, a pit forming in her stomach thinking something could have happened to Katsuki.

A ball of worry clogs Mitsuki’s throat as she pushes the door open further, just enough to peer in, hoping to not find Katsuki on the floor injured or worse.

Dead.

The terrifying talks she and Masaru had in the early hours of the mornings after Katsuki’s particularly devastating panic attacks still roll around in her head, taking a moment to remember every med pack they’ve hidden around the house. They had been jam-packed with things parents never want to own.

Mitsuki steels herself as she steps into the small crack of the door, hands gripping the handle, palms sweating, clammy, and cold. She almost doesn’t want to look, too scared to find something she’ll never get out of her head.

Mitsuki stares into the dark room, allowing her eyes to adjust to how dark it is. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but it’s still lighter outside in the hallway than it is in Katsuki’s room. It takes a moment, but her shoulders sag, and she has to force down the relieved tears that threaten to bubble in her eyes as she finds Masaru snoring in Katsuki’s bed with their boy snuggled up against him. Katsuki’s face is lax, with no wrinkles of fear or worry between his brows. His mouth is popped open, not for screaming but for little airy snores to exit, floating in the air.

He looks peaceful.

Mitsuki has always been worried her boy would be too plagued with agony and nightmares of that day that he’d never sleep well again or have any semblance of peace in his life ever again. This, though, sparks a tiny ember of hope in her heart, hoping for a better future for her boy.

Of course, that future will never be the best one, as it’d only be the best with Izuku here, but she is not a worker of miracles.

Masaru stirs softly as she pads quietly into the room, the door closing behind her gently. Those soft hazel eyes–still foggy from sleep–stare at her with so much love that it makes her shiver.

“How long has he been asleep?” Mitsuki whispers, barely able to hear her own voice, fearing she will wake Katsuki. She’d feel torn up if she woke him.

“What time is it?” Masaru asks back, hand setting down on her thigh as she gently takes a seat on the edge of Katsuki’s bed, watching him breathe, his airy snores like music to her ears.

“It’s ten after seven,” Mitsuki guesses, watching him hum softly as he starts to pet Katsuki’s hair once more, getting a soft grumble out of their son before he settles once more. Mitsuki doesn’t fight the smile that spreads on her face as she stares at her entire world.

Her Katsuki.

“He’s been asleep for around four hours,” Masaru says after probably taking a moment to calculate the hours Katsuki’s been asleep in his sleep-addled head.

Mitsuki smiles softly, feeling so utterly happy. “That’s more than he’s slept in weeks,” Mitsuki wipes the bubbling tears away, shuffling around on the edge of Katsuki’s bed, managing to get her legs under him without shaking the bed too much.

It takes slow, practied movements, but Mitsuki manages to crawl into bed behind her son, laying down slowly to sandwich him gently. She still remembers her moves from when he was a little toddler, finally falling asleep when the thunder eased.

Katsuki stirs slightly, his eyes opening and his head picking up off Masaru’s bicep to stare at her sleepily. Mitsuki takes a moment to hold her son’s face, fixing the stray strands of blond hair that fall on his face.

“Ma…?” Katsuki croaks, head dropping back down on Masaru’s bicep at the realization that it’s just her and nobody else.

“Go back to bed, baby. Dad and I will be right here when you wake up,” Mitsuki whispers, leaning down to lay a kiss on her son’s temple, hearing his soft him as he shuffles before settling in slightly.

“...’omise…” Katsuki slurs, voice barely audible as sleep clearly starts to gently nudge him back into their hold, eyelids fluttering as they struggle to stay open.

“Hm? What’s that, baby?” Mitsuki whispers, carding her hands through his hair. She leans in to hopefully hear him better.

“Promise you’ll be here…” Katsuki grunts, clearly somewhat embarrassed, but the sleep fogging his brain keeps all the signature brashness out of his voice as he stares off into the distance. Mitsuki smiles gently, eyes dripping with fondness and love for her son.

“Of course, we’ll stay, kiddo,” Masaru says, hugging Katsuki and rubbing his back. “Your mom and I will both be here when you wake up,” Masaru promises.

Mitsuki nods as well, smiling at her son. “I promise as well. We’ll be right here when you wake up, and then I’ll make your dad make breakfast for us,” Mitsuki teases.

Masaru chuckles, eyeing her with a fake look of betrayal. “I guess if I have to,” Masaru exaggerates, getting a soft groaned huff from their son. “I’ll make you all the pancakes you want, kiddo, blueberry, chocolate chip, even those awful apple protein pancakes you make,” They both shiver at that, remembering the awful but protein-packed pancakes Katsuki made when he was preparing himself for U.A. They watched their kid choke down those pancakes every day without fail till Masaru begged him to stop.

“D’ku always lik’d blu’b’rry…” Katsuki yawned, his eyes fluttering close as a stray tear works its way down his face. Mitsuki can feel her heart sag in her chest, remembering the piles of blueberry pancakes she used to make for little Izuku. They always used to have four symmetrical blueberries in the middle, with others sprinkled in to give it a personal feel. He always used to leave the middle piece for last, and without fail, Katsuki would always steal it, telling Izuku his freckles tasted like blueberries. “St’pid nerd n’ his love for fruit…” Katsuki mumbles, drifting off into a restless sleep as Mitsuki slings an arm over his side, kissing his shoulder gently as she and Masaru card their hands through his hair.

Katsuki manages to sleep for longer, but she and Masaru know it's far from restful with the way his eyes drip the occasional tears down his face and his mumbles of sweet Izuku’s name are pain-filled and whispered under his breath as he dreams.

-

When they all wake up again, Katsuki asks for blueberry pancakes. He eats almost everything except the four symmetrical blueberries in the middle of the pancakes.

-

Katsuki stares at his phone, watching the clock on his screen tick to midnight, a little sigh working its way out of his lips. It’s been seven months since Deku’s death, and Katsuki has been forcefully put onto the path of healing. His therapist is nice, and his teachers have allowed him to work online, as he cannot step foot on the U.A campus without feeling viciously ill. Stemming from both the hate he still holds for the school and the teachers who left Deku to die in his arms while they worked on the less injured and didn’t even notice he and Deku were missing before it was too late, as well as the giant statue of Deku in the middle of the entrance to U.A.

The first time Katsuki saw the fucking thing in real life, decorated with strings of flowers, All Might action figures all around the base with bouquets of flowers mixed around, Katsuki has the visceral urge to blow it up. Smash that fucking bronze statute with his quirk and decimate the statue. He wanted that stupid-ass statue laying in smithereens around his feet. Deku’s memory shouldn’t be downsized to a simple statue. It isn’t fair to the nerd.

Until that damn statue comes down, Katsuki refuses to step on U.A.

Katsuki allows his phone to fall face-flat on his bed, groaning as his room becomes shrouded in darkness once more. His phone was the only light in his room, and his eyes close to embrace the darkness once more. Instead of seeing a blank grey slate, Katsuki’s brows furrow as his body betrays him, filling the back of his eyelids with striking stars that glitter in the darkness.

Since that day, Katsuki has refused to look up at the stars. He knows Deku is waiting for him up there, but Katsuki doesn’t want to see him. That bastard left him, even if he didn’t mean to, and shackled Katsuki with grief. How dare that fucking bastard die in his arms and tell him the only thing he wanted was him?

That still haunts Katsuki, having realized one lonely night that Deku wasn’t just his best friend, a childhood friend, whatever.

Katsuki loved him. Held him in the highest regard in his heart and loved the fucking bastard, and he had the gall to die before Katsuki could figure that shit out. He could be kissing Deku fucking silly - although that would take realizing he loved Deku and eating his pride until he felt good enough to confess to the bastard - but instead, he was waxing poetic to a fucking gravestone. Telling Deku about all the dates he’d take him on, buy him all the damn crepes he wanted, and how they’d go blueberry and strawberry picking in the summer, not to his face, but to his grave.

Whispering to his spotless marble headstone about how he still fears the stars, even though he knows he’s up there somewhere in them, waiting to show off his sparkling blanket of stars to Katsuki when he’s ready. Telling him how he can’t get his freckles out of his head and that he’s gone far enough to draw them to make sure he remembers all of them. Tracing the graphite-covered papers to try and feel something other than sorrow.

It hasn’t worked, but Katsuki is grateful that he’ll never forget Deku’s freckles. Like painting maps of the stars, Katsuki draws maps of Deku’s freckles to remember them. The little cluster over the bridge of his nose to the more prominent, famous four symmetrical freckles on each cheek. If Katsuki wasn’t a coward and Shigaraki hasn’t been such a fucking bastard, he could be kissing each one of Deku’s freckles till the nerd giggled and pushed him away.

Scrubbing his face, Katsuki silently thanks his body for not producing any tears. He doesn’t want to cry; he’s too damn tired of crying. He’s been doing it for seven months almost non-stop, which is more than he’s ever cried in his lifetime, even as a shitty unthinking baby.

Sitting up, Katsuki debates on laying down, turning over, and going back to bed or finally pulling his dusty-ass blackout curtains back and staring at the sky. His parents have told him that the night sky has gotten so much more beautiful these past couple of months, which brews multiple feelings inside of him. Hate for the sky because how dare they share Deku’s beauty? Jealous that he cannot bask in its beauty because he is shackled by his grief. It pulls him down and builds a wall in front of his window, reinforced with hate, anger, and fear.

Fear that he will not love the stars like he loves Deku. Fears they will fall flat and all this grief and avoidance of the stars has been for nothing. A never-ending cycle of pain, hate, and grief, all for fucking nothing, if these damn stars do not have any sense of Deku in them.

The last feeling he feels is a sense of pride. It is weird to feel pride for your dead friend slash crush, but Katsuki can’t help the way pride swells in his chest every time he’s told the night sky looks beautiful. Deku is - was - and always will be effortlessly beautiful in a natural, unmatched way. He holds a grace and beauty in his face Katsuki has always known deep down. He wonders if that’s why he’s never called Deku ‘plain’ or insulted his looks, always defaulting to ‘shitty nerd’ or ‘fucking bastard’.

Katsuki hopes Deku’s beauty has dripped into the beauty of the stars and will sew Katsuki’s broken seams up.

“Should… Should I?” Katsuki whispers to himself, planting his hands on his bed and swinging his legs over the edge. He sits there, curled into himself slightly as he stares at his blacked-out windows, the curtains stationary from where they drape over his wide windows. He always used to love looking up at the stars before he went to sleep or staring out at the vast clouds to give his mind and eyes a rest after a hard study session, leaning back in his desk chair and letting the vast blue sky calm him.

“I should just fucking sleep,” Katsuki stares at his pillow - or at least what he thinks is his pillow since his sheets are all black and they meld into each other when it’s dark - as he contemplates laying down and not facing that terrifying night sky. He can feel unease brew in his chest, his heart already leaping around in his chest, a bitter taste of anxiety crawling up his throat. Katsuki doesn’t think he’s ready - he’ll never be ready - to see the night sky. Every time he’s tried, his eyes swell with tears enough to completely blur everything, and then he retreats. It’s like his body is fighting to protect him from a great evil–one that’s even greater than fucking Shigaraki, although that bastard is long dead.

“I should…” Katsuki whispers, gripping the edge of his bed in his hands as his palms suddenly become clammy. Anxiety stirs in his chest like static, making him short of breath. He can just lay back down and forget that he even thought of looking out that damn window.

He can, he can, he ca-

Katsuki’s on his feet before he even knows it, gulping loudly as he steps toward the window, possessed. He can’t stop his fucking feet from moving, breath becoming shorter with each step. He doesn’t want to do this; he just wants to go back to laying down, being a fucking coward. He doesn’t; he doesn’t want this. Someone pull him away from this window and bring him back to bed, like a weary soul wandering in a cemetery that is not theirs.

Mom… dad… take him away from here. Pull down the stars in the sky above to ease his ache and agony. Hold his head to their chests to shield his eyes from the stars that call to him behind the curtains.

“Ma’...” Katsuki croaks out, head turning toward his closed bedroom door. He wants his mom to come in and bring him back to his bed or guide him to her and dad’s bed to hold him like he used to be held when the nightmares got bad when he was a kid.

“Dad…” Katsuki cries, tears already streaming down his face, hands shaking with little embers sparking from the crevices in his fingers. The embers sting his clenched fists, but they do not snap him out of the possessed, dragging walk he does. He feels heavy but weightless at the same time, chest heaving with little hiccuping sobs. His ribs hurt as his heart thunders against them, making him whine and groan, sounds of agony crawling up his throat.

“Someone… just-” Katsuki’s breath catches in his throat like a fly catching in a spider’s web, unable to wriggle or get free. He can’t do this; he cannot fucking do this, and yet, something tells him to do it. Grab the dusty blinds and pull them back. See the stars for what they are: beautiful.

See Deku for what he is: beautiful.

Up there, Katsuki is sure Deku is haloed by the sun and stars, resting on black holes and swimming through galaxies. Trying on Saturn’s rings on his pretty, gnarled hands, a deity in the presence of mere stars who wish to shine as bright as Deku does up there. To imitate the stars that glitter on Deku’s skin, like jewels embedded into an expensive ring.

Katsuki needs someone to stop him from doing this. He isn’t ready to see the stars; he hasn’t prepared to see them. He can’t do this with no preparation; he can’t do this.

And yet, his hands reach for the dusty blinds, ignoring the way his nose scrunches at the dust falling on his pale skin. His shaking fingers drag the blinds open slowly. Katsuki wants to close his eyes, but he can feel them being held up by something other-worldly.

This has to be Deku, that bastard… that bastard.

“Don’t do this to me,” Katsuki pleads, not in control of his body. He’s been dragged from the driver’s seat and placed in the audience of Katsuki’s mind, glued to his seat and unable to get up. He wants to take control of his body once more, but he can’t. “Please don’t,” The plea tastes rancid in his mouth and fails, hanging in the air of his quiet, dark room.

Katsuki’s hands pull the blinds open, hearing the rings holding the blinds up squeak slightly as they grate against the bar they’ve been threaded onto. Katsuki winces at the sound, wanting to avert his eyes, but he can’t. His eyes are glued to the window he hasn’t seen in months, ducking his eyes down to stare at the small window shelf, seeing the bloodied All Might card, the figurine he won from the auction that Deku couldn’t outbid him in because he was dead by the time the winner was picked, and a fake plant. They are all covered in a thick layer of dust that tugs at Katsuki’s heart, knowing these damn curtains have been a wall for him, protecting him from the outside world when it got dark.

It hurts knowing he’s broken the promise he made to Deku to make sure to take care of the figure, but Katsukui couldn’t bring himself to clean it, as it was a constant reminder for Katsuki of the person who is no longer here.

“Fucking… damn you,” Kastuki seethes, tears dripping down his tilted face and collecting at the bottom of his chin. They are warm against his frigid skin. Katsuki runs warm, but right now, he feels like he’s in the middle of a blizzard, slowly being eaten up by the cold and freezing inside out. He feels that would be a better scenario to be in right now than having to look up at the stars that have somehow become his greatest enemy.

Katsuki has tackled villains of all sizes, power levels, and danger levels, and yet inanimate stars in the sky are the greatest foe he’s ever faced. They are a constant pain in his mind, a constant reminder of how he and everyone else failed to protect the one person who protected all of them.

Most of them - including Katsuki - would not be here if it weren’t for Deku sacrificing everything to take down Shigaraki. He sacrificed his mind, body, and soul. Dropped every moral he stands - stood - for to take Shigaraki down. Killed him in such a brutal way that even Katsuki gagged at the sight of the bastard’s mangled body by the time Deku was done with him.

Katsuki doesn’t blame Deku, though. If he was in Deku’s place, he would have done the exact same thing to keep the people he loved safe. He would have dropped every moral standard he had to take down the person who threatened the lives of his loved ones.

Katsuki breathes out a shuddered, anguished breath as more tears pool in his eyes and tracks down his face, making it all wet. He hates the feeling of tears on his face, reminding him of the ash that rained down that day. That day, that fucking day.

Katsuki can feel his head being cranked upward, breath stuttering in his chest when he sees them. Through the tears in his eyes, they shimmer brightly. Unlike anything Katsuki has ever seen, Katsuki feels like he’s seeing true beauty for the first time since Deku died.

The stars in the sky sparkle gently, shimmering with a beauty and grace that pulls all of the air out of Katsuki’s lungs as he stares out of his window. He feels sucker-punched, shackles of grief breaking off his ankles and wrists. Kastuki can’t describe the feeling well, but he feels weightless. Something he hasn’t felt in such a long time, breaking free from the anguish to simply stare into the stars and find solace in them.

Katsuki traces the sparkling stars with his eyes, drawing every constellation he can find, as well as every made-up one he makes and connects. They are beautiful, reminding him of the freckles on Deku’s back. When he used to wrap Deku’s bruises and clean his cuts after a brutal sparring session, Katsuki would always stare at the freckles painting the nerd’s back as he worked. It was a subconscious action, something he didn’t really take notice of until he was gone. Katsuki combed through every memory he had to remember those damn freckles.

“Fucking… shit,” Katsuki cries, eyes closing as he curls in on himself, hands coming up to press against his mind as he crumbles to the ground. “To think I hated something so pretty for months,” Katsuki cries, hands threading through his spikes to tug at the blond strands. He feels sickened by his uncontrollable hate toward the stars while they simply shimmered and put on their best show, waiting for him to look at them one day.

How could he hate something so beautiful? Even the mere thought of seeing the stars months ago would make him sick to his stomach and send him spiraling. He’d try to keep himself from blinking so he simply did not have to see the galaxy of stars behind his eyes, waiting for him. He’d push himself to the point of passing out due to exhaustion just so he could make sure he never saw the expanding galaxies of stars that lay in wait for him.

They weren’t there to torture him, to spin him their twisting waves of star-filled galaxies. To hold him hostage whenever he closed his eyes and show him what he’s been missing, and fill him with grief and anguish. They were there to comfort him. To guide him into their star-crafted hands and have them pick his grief off his body like birds pick bugs off of animals.

Katsuki mistook helping hands for harsh, scary hands. Flinched away from the gentle fingertips of his escape and instead dug himself into a deeper hole where he rotted for months. He dug his own grave with a shovel given to him to dig him out.

“How fucking stupid am I?” Katsuki sobs, a mirthless laugh breaking through the bitten-back sobs. Tears drip down his face as he weeps for how stupid his past self was, thinking the stars were weapons used by his brain against him when really they were a first-aid kit there to clean his wounds and fix him up, held in Deku’s star-carved and galaxy-cut hands.

“Katsuki?” His mother’s worried voice startles him. His hands slip from his stinging blond locks, and he turns around slightly from his crumpled position on the ground. “Are you okay, sweetheart? We heard a thump.” His dad peeks into his room over his mom’s head, although he can barely see him over her tall blonde spikes.

“I…” Katsuki breathes out, trying to articulate his thoughts while staring at his sweat-stained hands. He doesn’t find a way, closing his mouth and licking his salty, tear-stained lips. He doesn’t want to worry his mom and dad, but the sound of padding feet makes him sigh, a heavy weight hanging itself on his heart. He hates that he’s worried his parents so much, but he couldn’t help it.

“Kiddo?” His dad’s voice is as gentle as his mom’s as they both kneel down next to him, joining him on the floor. “What’s going on?” Katsuki can feel his Mom and Dad’s hands on his back and shoulders, rubbing up and down to soothe him.

Katsuki can feel his bottom lip wobble, bringing it between his teeth to worry it between them. He can feel the tears start up once more, making their way down his cheeks as he sniffles back a sob.

“I… why do the stars have to be so pretty? Why can’t they be horrid so I can hate them?” Katsuki cries, overwhelmed and exhausted. He just wants to sleep, to find himself in a restful and dreamless sleep. “Why can’t I hate them?” Katsuki repeats again, tucking his head between his knees as he starts to cry under the open curtains. He can’t bring himself to look up again, knowing he’ll fall more in love with the stars if he does. He does not have the energy to love right now, but maybe one day, Katsuki will.

“Oh, kiddo,” his dad sighs gently, pulling him into his chest. His mom is quick to shuffle forward and hug him as well. Katsuki lets it all go, vowing to himself that this is the last day he will cry. As it’s his last, he lets it all out. He sobs, he screams, he mourns.

He sobs for the pain he feels no longer being there. Like a flower weighed down by a droplet of dew, finally being able to rise up to the sun once more. He screams for the unfairness and anger that still continues to fester and cling to his ribs at the way everyone forgot he and Deku existed after the end of the battle. He mourns for Deku, oh, he mourns.

His mourning and grief burn like a fresh wound that never managed to close, but maybe this time, it will finally scab over and have a chance to heal.

Katsuki falls asleep in his parents' arms and wakes up with sunshine in his eyes and a lighter heart.

-

Being back on U.A.’s campus is weird. As he promised all those years ago, Katsuki never stepped foot as long as that damn statue stayed up. It was quietly removed, and a proper memorial and honoring of Deku’s name was executed with Katsuki at the head of it.

Now, it’s graduation. Katsuki never fully wove himself back into his old life at U.A. He’s become amicable with all the people who wronged him and Deku, but he will never look at them in the same light, nor will they ever get the respect Katsuki once held for them back.

His tie feels tight around his neck, but still, Katsuki keeps his hands draped in his lap and away from his tie. If Deku was here, he’d gently distract Katsuki with little anecdotes and odd trivia facts Katsuki knows by heart from the amount of time the nerd had told him.

Even though he isn’t here, Katsuki still replays the little trivia facts in his mind, noting this trail of thoughts sounds suspiciously close to Deku’s voice. That’s not too out of the ordinary, though. Deku’s always been in his head, a little piece of him living in his head and mumbling away about everything and anything.

A frail, greying All Might finishes his speech, gripping the podium as he finishes his speech, looking far too tired and sickly to be up on that stage. Since his near-fatal illness from grief, All Might never bounced back to his cherry self. Katsuki didn’t blame him, as he didn’t either.

Of course, Katsuki would not describe himself as cheery, but his unparalleled anger and frustration with the world tamped down after Deku’s death, feeling more like an empty husk than anything. His friends - yes, he will finallyacknowledge those damn parasites as his friends, suck it - have managed to rejuvenate some of his former self, but Katsuki will never be the same.

“I’d like to call to the stand Bakugou Katsuki, our valedictorian,” All Might’s steady, gruff voice makes him sigh, remembering how the man had approached Katsuki and asked him to speak at graduation. He agreed, reluctant, but he agreed nonetheless.

Standing, Katsuki straightens out his crinkled uniform, brushing imaginary dust off the light grey blazer as he walks up to the left side of the stage to walk up the hidden stairs. All Might greets him with a shadow of his former smile, shaking his hand and hobbling away from the podium back to his seat next to the standing faculty. Everyone eyes him wearily, even Katsuki, watching to make sure he doesn’t trip, all ready to catch him in a split second.

Katsuki turns back to the podium after All Might gently settles into his chair, sighing heavily as he drapes his hands over the handle of his cane. He doesn’t have any speech cards, as it’s all on his phone, but Katsuki thinks that speech is bland and too sugar-coating. Katsuki needs this shit to be real. “I’m sure you all know what I am going to be talking about today,” Katsuki starts, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he stares out into the hundreds of graduating students. “I don’t care if you’ve heard this a thousand times; make this a thousand and one,” Katsuki grunts, ignoring some scrunches of the business-class kids. Deku’s death has always been well-known in this class, and he’s sure it’ll haunt the new first-years as a cautionary tale to never forget one in the chaos after a battle.

“The only damn reason I’m up here is because my best friend, Midoriya Izuku, is not. He should be up here stuttering and mumbling his damn speech about how we should all be the best heroes we can be and how we should strive to be the best at what we do. But he’s not, due to the utter incompetency of many heroes who failed him in the field. Even when the battle seems to be over, it is never truly over until everyone comes home. That is a lesson so many people only learned when my best friend died in my arms,” Katsuki clenches his fists in his pockets, licking over his lips. He wishes Deku was up here instead of him, and he could sit in the audience and watch with pride. But, instead, he has to be up here, doing that.

Someone had to grab the mantle when Deku left it on the ground, unable to pick it up once more.

“I want you all to listen and to learn. We are here to do something for the world, whether that be providing support in the field, in a workshop, or to become private multi-millionaires, I see you, business class. Scheming bastards,” That draws a laugh out of the audience, making his shoulders droop slightly, nerves burning off with each chuckle that echoes in his ears. “We’re here to do something, so don’t waste this opportunity bestowed upon you. You came here to U.A. for a reason, and you are leaving with a skill set many would kill for. Don’t let those go to waste.”

“To my heroes in the crowd… remember the values and morals your teachers taught you. Do not let fame consume you and override those morals. Do not flash smiles for the cameras during a villain fight; focus on taking the bastards down before flashing that ugly smile. Find a balance, and don’t let everything go to waste the second you taste fame; we’re better than this. We are U.A. graduates; we uphold a sense of hope and justice for everyone as heroes, especially ones who fly out of U.A.’s gates,” Katsuki shifts on his feet, trying to not look like some righteous idiot up on the stage.

“Become a symbol for people, hope, victory, justice, peace, whatever. Strive to be the best and go out every day hoping to save the world. Being a hero is an invaluable thing in our society, especially with crime on the rise. Follow in the path of past heroes and give justice to their names. Like I will. I will carry the hope and justice Izuku carried on his shoulders every day till I’m crippled and old. Till my hands no longer crack enough sparks to even produce smoke. I will carry this role just like Izuku did,” Katsuki pulls his hands out of his pockets, staring at them as a stray ember sparks on his right palm, floating off into the air before dying right before his eyes.

“Izuku is, and always will be, my symbol of hope. When I think of hope, I think of that jolly little bastard with his big smile and unwavering determination. He had shit self-preservation and broke his body in the name of everything good and righteous, but he never stopped. Nothing would get him down, and he would always rise up from whatever fight he was in with a big smile and a fist raised to the sky. He was unwavering even in the face of deadly foes. To say Izuku died a hero would be an understatement. He died a valorous bastard, but you know what he also died as?

A kid. Sixteen. He died scared and under the stars. You know, I’ve never told anyone this before, not even my own parents. When Izuku was dying, we laid under the stars, and he told me how he wondered if the stars would welcome him. He asked me what I thought about the stars, and I told him, “How could I love the thing that is taking you away from me?” Katsuki clenches his fists, gulping down the stone in his throat. “I hated the stars since then, so much so I couldn’t even look at them. I blocked them out like I blocked everything else out. I hated them for so long because how could I stare up at them and know Izuku is up there with them? I wanted my best friend back, and I certainly didn’t want to stare up at the stars where Izuku wanted to be,” Katsuki sighs hard, trying to ignore the heat in his waterlines, tears feeling almost inevitable.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get why Izuku was taken from us. Someday, I’ll get it, I’m sure, but for now, I will still tumble with the turmoil and grief of the person who has been by my side for nearly my entire life being gone. Some days I wonder if Izuku wasn’t right for this world, if he had greater places to be somewhere else in this universe."

"On other days, I wish to tear apart the universe to find the answers to my questions, to go head-to-head with the higher powers that plucked Izuku from this world and placed him in the stars or elsewhere. Izuku was always meant for greatness and he showed that with every step taken, the punches he laid out, and the smile he gave the world. He was and always will be an eternal kindness inlayed on Japan’s streets and minds. He will forever be my guiding light and my driving force. He’ll be there to push me up when I need it and to shield me when I’m down, even if he’s not here.

I will look at Izuku as my symbol of peace, just as you guys look at All Might as your symbol of peace. Since the cheeky, nerd-ass bastard isn’t here, I feel obligated to do this,” Katsuki chuckles, staring out into the crowd with misty eyes and barely hiding their sniffles as he raises his hand. It’s a beautiful summer afternoon, and Katsuki can see the giant shadow he casts, just like the shadow Deku’s statue cast and the one All Might cast in his former glory.

“Go beyond, plus-fucking-ultra,” Katsuki breathes, grinning at the uproar and fists raising in the air with him, chairs squeaking against the brick path they are on as the end of his speech marks their graduation. It’s a mess of cheers, tears, and energy that fills Katsuki with a mirth he hasn’t felt in a while.

His hand lowers, stuffed back into his pants pocket, as he turns toward the teachers. His grin fades from his face into a more stony expression as he steps forward. Nezu is sitting on Aizawa’s shoulder, a smile curved on the rat-bastard’s face.

“Bakugou-shonen,” All Might’s voice greets him with an inlay of pride and happiness in the old man’s voice. He hasn’t risen from his chair, but Katsuki does not expect him to do so. He would never insist that the ailing ex-pro hero stands for him. “Your speech was beautiful; I’m sure Midoriya-shonen is giggling up wherever he is,” Katsuki knows he is, shifting around on his resting place in the stars and thinking about Katsuki’s speech. Kastuki can hear the tear-warbled Kacchan even from his place on earth.

“Thank you, All Might,” Katsuki grunts, gulping down the nerves and excitement of being praised by All Might. Even though he’s known the retired pro hero for three years, it still fills his inner child with glee to get praised by the All Might. “My initial speech sucked ass, so I had to improvise,” Katsuki huffs, rubbing the back of his neck, something he picked up from Deku. His hands play with the thin, small strands of blond hair on the bottom of his neck as he does so.

“It was a truly fantastic spectacle, Bakugou-kun! I couldn’t have done anything near that good!” Nezu’s cheery voice breaks in, that ever-present sadistic grin edging on something softer. Katsuki swears he’s seeing things, and he doesn’t want to go crazy analyzing the small dip in the edges of that grin that could theoretically be called a smile. “You are truly carving the way for heroes and everyone else, and I’m sure Midoriya-kun would be as proud as you as we all are,” Nezu’s hand sticks out, and Katsuki does not refuse it. Even if the principal is sitting on Aizawa-sensei’s shoulders, Katsuki still moves close and shakes Nezu’s hand out of some level of respect for the rat. Even if Katsuki hates how he handled the situation with that fucking statue, he still respects the rat for allowing him to do a majority of his classes at home, even allowing him to record videos of himself continuing to improve with his quirk in a controlled gym made for destructive quirks like his.

“You did good, kid,” Aizawa-sensei’s praise falls flat, but Katsuki acknowledges him with a grunt and a tentative handshake, ignoring the way his skin crawls and how much harder it gets to keep his face passive as he does so. He breaks the handshake as quickly as possible, bowing quickly to show his respect more toward Nezu than Aizawa-sensei, but the man doesn’t have to know that.

Katsuki steps down the line, shaking the hands of all of the other faculty members as well as his now ex-teachers, showing them respect for the respect they showed him. Present Mic’s smile is as cheery as ever, even with the tears streaming down his face.

He finds himself back at All Might once more, licking his lips. His hands are balled in his pockets, coming out to lay flat against his sides as he bows as deep as he can toward the man. “Thank you again, All Might. I… I wouldn’t be where I am without you and your stories of De-Izuku,” Katsuki breathes, sucking down any possible emotions that would spring tears. He comes up to find the man smiling gently at him.

“My boy, I am so proud of you and I’m sure Izuku would be as well. Wherever he is, he’s looking down at us and fanboying about how cool his Kacchan is,” A wink is sent his way as his cheeks flush at All Might’s use of his Kacchan.

Damn old man…

“Now, run along. Your parents are waiting for you, and so are your friends,” Katsuki nods at the man, huffing softly as he turns away, not looking back as he fast-walks it off the stage and straight into his parent's arms. He’s suffocated by their hugs, but he doesn’t mind it. His mom holds him close and whispers how proud she is of him into his ears while his dad just sniffles and weeps gently against his shoulder. Katsuki can’t help the stray tears that work their way down his face, hugging his parents just as tight as they are hugging him.

“My baby boy, you did it. You did it!” His mom grins at him, tears in her eyes as she pulls back, cupping his cheeks. “You have no idea how proud your dad and I are of you,” Katsuki huffs, his cheeks being squished by his mother as she sniffles nonsense.

“I think I have a pretty good idea, Ma’,” Katsuki grunts, pulling back slightly to get her to stop squishing his cheeks, but he doesn’t pull away from her grasp. Past Katsuki would rather drop dead than be caught like this, but Katsuki doesn’t care anymore. His parents carried him through nightmares and panic attacks that were devastating. They picked up every piece of him, cutting their fingers as they did so, and put him back together. The least Katsuki can do is let them hug him at graduation.

“My boy… my kiddo!” His dad wails, pushing his glasses up to wipe at his tears, but it’s no use. They just keep coming. Katsuki huffs at that and drags his dad into a hug, resting his head on his dad’s as he’s finally taller than the man. Just five inches taller than his dad, and he’s finally able to rest his head on his dad’s head like he used to do. “We’re so, so proud of you! Oh gosh, you're a pro hero now!” His father gasps suddenly, pulling back and taking Katsuki’s arms and pressing them against his body with sudden strength, staring at him through fogged-up glasses lenses. “Listen here, kiddo. You better come to us before anyone else can snatch you up for possible merch ideas,” Katsuki cracks a smile at how utterly serious his dad is, eyes rolling slightly.

“I dunno, Dad, I’m sure you’ll have lots of competition,” Katsuki watches a fire light in his father’s eyes. Chuckling, his mom deescalates his dad, patting his shoulder as she hides her own chuckles.

“We’ll have time to convince him over dinner. Come on, now, our reservations are in two hours. We still need to get home and freshen up, and I need to redo my mascara,” Katsuki finally takes notice of the runny black streaks that lay under his mother’s eyes. Most of them have been wiped away, but small smears remain.

“I’ll buy you all the wagyu you want as long as you promise me, kiddo,” He pats him on the back, and Katsuki’s stomach growls at the thought of wagyu.

“WAGYU?!” Shitty Hair’s voice echoes from across the crowd as if he has super-hearing when it comes to the talk about expensive meats.

“Eugh, shit, run, or else Ei will eat us out of house and home,” Katsuki ushers his parents along as the shouts for his name are blocked out as the redhead struggles to work his way through the dense crowd. By the time Eijirou will get to them, they will be long gone, money still in their pockets and a roof still over their heads.

Gluttonous bastard.

-

“Hey, nerd,” Katsuki whispers as he walks up to Deku’s grave, which is decorated with flowers and hero merchandise. He takes a seat next to it, brushing off the dust and leaves, taking a minute to pull the small packet of wipes he carries to freshen up Deku’s headstone. It’s a simple thing, but Katsuki can’t have Deku’s grave looking dusty and neglected. He wouldn’t want Deku to feel that way.

“I graduated today. Spoke and spilled my heart out like an idiot, but I did it. I’m sure you were up there watching me, though, so I don’t need to say everything back,” Katsuki chuckles, fiddling with his fingers. There’s a small breeze that’s floating through the cemetery, picking up leaves and pushing them about. “Can’t believe it… already got a shit ton of offers from top agencies. Dunno who I’ll go with, though. Gotta look over the huge fucking stack,” Katsuki chuckles, staring up through the thick tree branches of the willow tree in the cemetery. The stars are gone today, leaving nothing but a blanket of darkness in the sky.

“I wonder where you are… Are you up there, hiding? Down here with me? Or have you moved on?” Katsuki wonders, leaning against the gravestone. He can’t be too long because he promised his parents they’d watch a movie after he gets back home. “I got ya’ something, nerd,” Katsuki hums, pulling a small button out of his back pocket. It’s from his blazer from U.A., with the stamp of U.A. on the little green button. “Ain’t much, and isn’t from my middle school gakuren, but you get the sentiment, ah?” Katsuki huffs, setting the button down right next to the frame of Deku’s best picture, one of him caught off-guard but smiling like an idiot. The sun halos him, highlighting the nerd and his beauty.

“I hope wherever you are, Deku, that you’ll find me one day when all of this is over so we can be together again. You better wait for me, you bastard. I don’t care if you have to cross back to this universe; you better be there when I’m ready,” Katsuki grunts, wiping over the glass in the photo frame, getting all the dust and grime off. He hums softly as he pockets the wipe, hopefully remembering to throw it out by the time he gets home.

“Goodnight, Izuku. Sleep well,” Katsuki whispers as he pats the top of Deku’s gravestone before looking up to the sky once more, knowing he will find it devoid of stars like before. Only one star is there sparkling down at him. In a void, there is one star to guide him home. A green star with a shimmer like no other.

“There ya’ are, nerd,” Katsuki grins, turning away from Deku’s grave and walking back to his car to drive home and watch shitty rom-com movies with his mom and dad. “See ya,” Katsuki whispers as he walks out of the cemetery, a smile on his face.

-

Maybe someday Katsuki will get it. Get why grief consumed him whole and held him captive for so many months and did not let him go.

Someday, Katsuki will understand why the world took Deku away from all of them, but for now, Katsuki will bask in the knowledge that Deku is up there, watching him. Knowing the nerd will always keep his eyes on him gives him solace and closure.

That’s all Katsuki asks for.

When Katsuki meets him up there, they’ll watch the world from above together, resting on black holes and batting stars back and forth. Maybe Katsuki will steal Saturn’s rings and give them to Deku to watch the smile grace that ethereal face dotted with stars.

To finish his pledge to love Deku as his most precious person.