Work Text:
Kacchan has been acting strange, but it isn't until his parents have gone home for the night and they're alone with a lightly snoring All Might that he actually brings up what's bothering him. Izuku is in the middle of one of his tangents when it happens, sleepy and warm and relaxed from the painkillers given to him this afternoon via his IV drip, which is why it takes him so long to understand what Kacchan is trying to get at. Or at least, that's what he tells himself.
“About earlier,” Kacchan says, gently interrupting Izuku’s low, half-muttered musings about all the impressive new moves he saw their friends perform during the final fight. He's so proud of all of them. “What you said.”
“Hm?” He turns his head, blinking to bring focus back to his heavy eyes. Kacchan is resting in a wheelchair that the nurses forced him into as soon as he let them, parked by the side of his bed. He's looking at him the way he has been all day, that red, red gaze soft and hesitant and something that Izuku might've called fond on anyone else, but can't quite name on Kacchan’s face. “What I said?”
"Yeah. About your quirk. You said since you were quirkless before, you can't be too busted up about the fact that it's pretty much gone now."
Ah. Right. Izuku hums, nodding his understanding. He did say that.
Kacchan's jaw flexes as he carefully considers his next words, eyebrows drawn tight together and mouth pulled into a frown. Izuku hazily recognizes that he's frustrated, but it’s a strange iteration for him, sad and small and quiet. So unlike the Kacchan he knows. Familiar, but different. It's been like this all day, and Izuku can't help but wonder how long it'll last. And if it lasts any longer, he then wonders how long it'll take him to get used to it. To stop feeling so unsettled, and more than a little sad about how the war has changed them all, even Kacchan. He doesn't know why he didn't expect it. Why he's surprised that Kacchan isn't the same as before. He shouldn't be.
“You know you can be, right?”
He frowns, having been quietly lost in his thoughts long enough that he's lost the thread of conversation. “What?”
“You can be. Busted up about it.” When Izuku only tilts his head slightly in question, Kacchan sighs roughly and elaborates, “Losing your quirk.”
“Oh,” Izuku says, smiling to cover the way those words make his chest go tight. “I know, Kacchan. But it's okay.”
It is. It's okay. He chose this.
“Izuku. Stop.” Izuku opens his mouth to protest, to insist that it really is all okay, but Kacchan shuts him up rather effectively by reaching over with his only working hand (oh God, oh God, Kacchan's arm) and taking hold of one of Izuku's, twining their fingers together in a firm but gentle hold. Izuku's breath sticks in his throat like a fly caught in a web. He can't stop staring at their hands long enough to look Kacchan in the eye, but that doesn't seem to deter him whatsoever. “Stop it. You're allowed to be upset. You should be upset. Yeah, you chose to give it up. You made the hard choice and saved the world, and everyone, myself included, is so goddamn proud of you, but One For All was important to you. You gotta stop acting like this isn't a big deal. It's driving me fuckin’ nuts."
Izuku does look at him then, gaping like a fish. Little ripples of shock ricochet through his body, over and over, sparking his every nerve in a way that might even be painful if he was currently more capable of feeling pain. It's almost like Kacchan reached inside him and set off his quirk, an explosion made of heat and emotion that completely obliterates any and all barriers he's been quietly shoring up inside himself since the day he watched helplessly as Kacchan plummeted to the ground after getting skewered in his place.
And like the crybaby he always has been and always will be, Izuku then bursts into tears.
It's like that's what Kacchan has been waiting for. He clicks his tongue softly and shuffles the chair closer with his feet. Neither of them have much range of motion, but Kacchan leans forward as far as he can, hissing under his breath as his wounds no doubt ache.
“C-Careful,” Izuku chides with shaking breath, though he's thankful for the way Kacchan seems to want to be as close as Izuku himself does, even if neither of them can accomplish it exactly. Izuku can still barely feel his arms. “Kacchan, careful. You're still really hurt.”
“Don't tell me what to do.” It's his usual response, but such an unusual delivery: gentle, warm, and with a smile so soft it almost looks unreal. He'd smiled at Izuku like that earlier too, with tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, just the way they are now. Izuku doesn't know what to do with any of it. He doesn't know how to handle Kacchan when he's like this. It seems pathetic, that he'd almost rather Kacchan act like his typical, abrasive self, but this newfound gentleness makes him feel oddly…fragile. Makes him feel like glass in Kacchan's hands, liable to fracture at any moment.
He doesn't like it.
But it's a little funny, Izuku thinks. This is probably how Kacchan felt whenever he was already hurting and Izuku reached out with kindness and concern that Kacchan felt he didn't need. Izuku understands better now. It hurts, this vulnerability. Izuku's chest aches in a way it didn't before. He feels wrung out and weak.
Yeah. Now Izuku understands.
“Kacchan… You're wrong.” His lips twist in grim disagreement, but where usually he'd bark that he isn't ever wrong, Kacchan stays silent, allowing Izuku to continue on uninterrupted. “It wasn't a hard choice. I barely even had to think about it.” Upon reflection, he can admit he'd been a little worried about the likelihood of success before the first transfer, but he'd trusted in the wisdom of the previous users. It'd all worked out in the end. “Once I knew for sure what we were doing was working, giving up One For All was the easiest choice in the world.”
During the brief explanation given to him earlier in the afternoon of the strategy the second user came up with on the fly during the fight—transferring OFA bit by bit to break down Shigaraki’s inner defenses—Kacchan had looked thoughtful, maybe even impressed. Now, he just looks sad. He's staring at Izuku like his heart is breaking, and every second their eyes keep hold of each other, Izuku feels his break too. Not for himself, but for Kacchan, who hoped they'd be chasing each other in the Hero rankings their whole lives. It's a little surreal to think Kacchan is so upset over losing that, but Izuku understands. He'd wanted it too. He just seems to be handling the death of that dream a little better.
“If there'd been any other way, maybe I'd feel differently. But honestly, Kacchan, how can I be anything other than happy, being a part of helping One For All do what it was made to? How can I be anything other than happy knowing how many lives it saved?”
“Bullshit,” Kacchan says softly. His eyes aren't on Izuku's face anymore—he’s staring at their interlocked hands, watching his own thumb stroke along Izuku's skin. Izuku himself didn't notice until now because he can't really feel it, but he follows Kacchan's line of sight down, and when he sees that absentminded touch, his stomach twists and his heart lurches, and something deep down inside of him shakes.
“Kacchan—”
“Let me talk,” he insists, face twisting up in frustration. “Just. Please, Izuku. Shut up. Let me talk.”
Surprised, he can only nod mutely, although he isn't sure if Kacchan notices it or not. Neither of them can seem to look away from the one physical way that they are connected. Izuku stays silent, and Kacchan keeps caressing his scarred skin, and they bask in a heavy, brief silence before he clears his throat and carries on.
“I know all that, okay? I know that there wasn't any other way, that you're happy you saved everybody, and I even know that it must've been an easy choice for you, understanding what was at stake. But I'm not stupid, and you can't fool me.” Here, his head jerks up, and he stares so fiercely that Izuku can't help the way he glances up, drawn in by the force of Kacchan's eyes. They're shining; bright and wet and hot with unexpected anger. Izuku's stomach flips at the sight. He feels like a deer caught in the headlights, paralyzed and about to be run over. “You're fooling yourself, but you can't fool me.”
“I…I don't know what you mean.”
Kacchan scoffs. “I know that, too. I know you, Izuku. You're happy, but that isn't all. I know something you don't even want to admit to yourself, which is that you're sad. You probably feel like shit about it, like it's selfish or some stupid shit, but you're fucking sad.”
Izuku doesn't respond. He can't. He feels like he's been slapped. Of all the things Kacchan has ever said to him, this is the one that's unbelievable. Sad? Izuku can't be sad. Well, he's a little bit sad about Tenko. And about how the war has irrevocably changed even his oldest friend, someone who's steady confidence usually makes him feel secure but right now is frankly doing the opposite. And obviously about how hurt everyone is; how long it'll take the world and everyone he knows and loves to recover. Definitely about the people they couldn't save. That's understandable.
But about losing his quirk? It's such a small thing, in the scheme of things. Barely a blip on the radar. He can't be sad about it, because he was lucky to have it in the first place. Maybe it belonged to him for a little while, but it was made to be let go. That was the whole reason it was created! To be carried, honed, and passed on. To make further and further progress down the line until it could fulfill its purpose of defeating All For One. Izuku was lucky he got to be the one to see the previous users' hard work come to fruition. He feels lucky! He feels…
Sad.
"There ya go,” Kacchan says, having caught sight of the way Izuku's face must’ve fallen. His eyes haven't strayed far from Izuku the entire time he's been in the room, actually, so the idea that he probably hadn't even looked away in the first place isn't that surprising. Annoying, maybe. Izuku feels pinned under glass, on display for Kacchan and his magnifying lens. “See? You feel sad. And that's okay.”
“No.”
“Tch. No? You gonna try and lie to me right now with your nose dripping snot down your face like a leaky faucet? That's a new level of stupid, even for you, Izuku.”
“No!”
"That all you can say for yourself? You sound five years old."
It might've turned into an actual argument, yelling and all, if the night nurse hadn't chosen just that moment to walk in. They fall quiet as she smiles and offers them a cheerful “sorry to interrupt,” but she goes on with her duties as though she doesn't otherwise notice the tension that'd been mounting in the room before her arrival. She checks on All Might, and then Izuku, cleaning up his face for him, and then Kacchan too, scolding him for his outright refusal to rest in his bed like he's supposed to be doing. He doesn't seem fazed in the least by her displeasure, but does nod his reluctant agreement when she tells him he'll have to go back to his own room very soon. “Another half hour at most, okay? Honestly, you're the most stubborn boy I've ever met.”
“I've met stubborner,” Kacchan retorts, staring pointedly at Izuku.
Only once the door has clicked firmly shut behind the nurse does he attempt to defend himself. “I'm not trying to be stubborn, Kacchan.” He also can't quite believe that Katsuki Bakugou of all people is trying to say Izuku is the more stubborn one, but that's beside the point. “I’m just trying to say that it isn't okay. You're right, and I do feel sad, but it feels...wrong.”
Their hands, hastily untangled as the nurse was coming in, meet again as Kacchan reaches out. Izuku still can't feel much, and his senses are dulling even further as the medicine the nurse gave him during her check-in starts kicking in, but Kacchan's hand in his is…nice. He can tell it's warm. It's probably a little sweaty, too, but that's okay. Even if he could feel it, he doesn't think he'd mind.
“I know. I said I got it, didn't I?” Izuku glances up at him when he speaks, just in time to catch a flash of…something across Kacchan's face that is there and gone in the time it takes him to blink. Did he say that? Doesn't sound exactly right, but he suddenly can't remember. He's so tired. “But I'm telling you. It's okay. Let yourself feel sad. You keep bottling everything up and holding it all back with that All Might brand smile of yours, but the only thing that's gonna do is fuck you up more in the long run. Trust me.”
“I do.” He smiles dopily. “More than anything.”
“God, you're high,” Kacchan tells him with a laugh, and it's the most beautiful sound Izuku can ever remember hearing. He can't even argue that he isn't high, not at all, because he's too happy hearing the sound he can't believe was just shared with him. Kacchan may have laughed at him, but it wasn't like it used to be. It was warm and fond. It was genuinely amused. It was…loving.
“Love you, Kaccha’.”
There's a pause. Or there must be, because Izuku has to open his eyes when Kacchan starts talking again, and he can't remember closing them. Kacchan looks like a man once made of marble suddenly learning to move, jerky and stiff, but his face remains soft. Open.
“I… yeah, me too. To you.” He can't remember what's being talked about, but Kacchan sounds so sweet. Izuku smiles as best he can when he feels half lost in a dream, and Kacchan smiles back. The one that he's been offering all day, making Izuku feel fragile and broken in his palms, but Izuku thinks that maybe that's okay, because then Kacchan says to him, “hey, high-on. Before you pass out, listen. You can act like All Might around everyone else, okay? Keep that smile on your face all damn day, I don't care. But with me… Don't. Just don't. You can…you can be sad with me. You can be whatever you want, with me. Got it?”
“Mmm.”
“Izuku. Look at me.” He forces his eyes back open. They catch on Kacchan's, and he burns with the raw emotion he finds there. He's definitely high, and he can barely keep his thoughts in order, but even under this artificial exhaustion he knows: that look means something. Something important. What Kacchan is saying is important.
“Yes. Sorry. I'm lis'nin'.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just remember I've got you. Okay? Say, ‘Kacchan’s got me.’”
“Kacchan’s got me.”
“Right. I've got you. And don't fucking forget it.”
There isn't much talking beyond that. Izuku isn't up for it, already more than halfway asleep by the time the nurse Kacchan summons with the call button comes in to collect him. But he dutifully holds onto those three words as he sinks under, and the last thing he thinks of as he gives into sleep is how ‘I’ve got you,’ sounds a lot like, ‘I love you,’ at least when Kacchan is the one saying it.