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Izuku Midoriya always thinks too much. He overthinks everything, from the smallest detail to the largest picture. He can’t help it; it’s just who he is as a person. Wherever Izuku is, if he isn’t talking, he’s thinking about something. As he stood next to Katsuki Bakugo, the blond haired boy could tell Izuku was deep in thought. He didn’t have to look at his furrowed brows, or the pursed lips. His head rests in his hand and his elbow on the rail, his eyes looking forward at the beach before them. He’s zoned out with an empty stare and a frown on his face. Katsuki could just tell by the boy’s quiet presence. If he didn’t already know the boy stood next to him, he wouldn’t be able to tell he’s even there. Katsuki thinks it’s weird, as for even when Izuku is deep in thought in blissful unawareness to what’s going on around him, he’s usually mumbling to himself about something. Yet there’s Izuku, as silent as silence can be.
Katsuki rests his elbows on the rail, craning his neck to look at the boy next to him. The moonlight shone against his face, lighting up his green eyes which were void of any emotion. None of his thoughts were readable on his face. Katsuki narrows his eyes, taking in the boy’s appearance. He can’t help but stare. If this were middle school, he probably would’ve shoved the boy and spat some snarky insult about his ugly face. This isn’t middle school anymore, though. Katsuki’s grown since then. From years of feeling anger and stress coursing through his body, he grew tired. Exhausted, even. Although that’s who he is as a person, and the anger will never diminish, it surely has lessened. The rage in his blood held tightly onto his veins, coursing through every artery and cell that reigned in his body. It had a tight grip on him, pulsing through every bone, every fiber of his existence. It lived within him. Yet he didn’t feel a single drop right now. He didn’t know what he felt, he isn’t used to these new emotions that flared up inside him as of late. He couldn’t differentiate the feelings of sadness between anger, or anger and happiness. It’s hard for him after never escaping the burning fire inside him. Katsuki can’t read his own emotions, let alone anyone else’s. His eyes drift off to where Izuku’s eyes were focused on.
“Oh,” Katsuki whispers softly to himself, watching the scene before him on the beach.
“What?” Izuku asks quietly.
Katsuki shakes his head, a small smile pulling at his lips. He drops his head between his arms, closing his eyes.
“I thought you didn’t want any of that.”
Izuku snaps out of his trance, looking over at Katsuki.
“I don’t,” Izuku replies, more to himself than his rival. Katsuki raises his head, crimson eyes meeting green ones. He can see it now. The emotions in Izuku’s eyes. An emotion he has yet to understand, but he himself obliviously felt dearly.
“Longing,” Katsuki says. Izuku furrows his eyebrows again.
“Longing?”
“Yeah.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I don’t really know,” Katsuki grumbles, the smile dropping from his face. He fiddles with his hands hanging off the fence, staring down at them. Longing, that’s what Izuku is feeling. He can see it written all over the boy’s face. Katsuki looks up again, directing his gaze at Jiro and Kaminari.
He doesn’t understand love. He’s never felt love before. To love or to be loved, he didn’t know anything about it. Yet he could see it, everywhere before him. Between Izuku and the rest of the group. Between his parents. Between Kaminari and Jiro. There’s many different types of love, he knew that. Platonic, romantic. To love another, to love an object, a figure. He knows what love looks like, and there it is between the two friends Izuku ogled. A romantic love, a new one. They only admitted their feelings to each other the week prior, yet looking at them, you’d think it’s been years. Katsuki had no clue his close friends felt that way about one another, he’s oblivious. Oblivious to it all. He didn’t feel any love from anyone he knew, nor’ did he know if he felt any toward them. So how could he, really?
“They’re cute,” Katsuki says. Izuku nods, “I know.”
“I don’t understand it.”
“I know,” Izuku says lightly, shifting his eyes to Katsuki’s fiddling hands. Katsuki looks to him, seeing a new emotion painted across his face. He tried to read it. His eyes aren’t bright, the moonlight didn’t cast upon them at this angle. Even if it did, there wouldn’t be a shimmer like usual. Katsuki knew that. His eyes never shimmered either. He can see that glint in people’s eyes when they’re smiling or laughing. When they’re happy or joyful. When Kirishima cracks a joke to Katsuki about his explosive nature. When Katsuki shoves him and calls him a rude name for saying it, Kirishima keeps that shimmer in his eyes. It’s happiness, Katsuki would say to himself. A feeling he’s never felt. He’d see it in Izuku’s eyes too, whenever Izuku looks at Katsuki. It isn’t there now as their eyes make contact.
“What’s wrong?” Katsuki asks.
Izuku chuckles to himself, looking back at his two friends dancing on the sand.
“I’ll never get used to this, you know.”
“To what?”
“You.”
Katsuki froze, his arms tensing up at this comment. He’s different now. He grew up, from his explosive nature. He knew that. He tries his hardest to be gentle, like Izuku. To be funny without trying, like Kirishima. To be a friend, like Uraraka. To be respectful, like Iida. He’s trying. Sometimes he slips up, returning back to his old self. Sometimes he doesn’t catch himself being cruel and he can read the hurt in people’s eyes when he says something offensive. It never use to bother him, it never use to dawn on Katsuki that he could hurt people without doing it physically. He knows now, the things he’s capable of. He’s felt it. The pain brought on by another human just by words. He knows all about that.
“I don’t mean that in a bad way Kacchan,” Izuku whispers, putting his hand on Katsuki’s arm. His touch is warm. Katsuki dropped his hands, letting them hang off the rail, his figure relaxed. “Yeah,” Katsukis mutters, avoiding Izuku’s stare. If this were middle school, he would’ve slapped Izuku’s arm away. Pushed the boy to the ground, called him a dipshit or a nerd. If this were middle school, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.
“I like it.”
Katsuki tensed up again. He likes the new Katsuki. He knew that, yet hearing those words crawl out of Izuku’s lips made him feel a certain way. Nobody’s told Katsuki this outright before. That they like how he’s changed. They fear his response, they assume he would blow up at them for saying anything. It doesn’t make Katsuki angry, though. He knew his classmates were resentful toward his angry self. They wouldn’t invite him out to outings, to lunch, to nothing. He was always too angry to be around, a burden. He was hard and angry. That’s difficult to be around. It took a while for Katsuki to realize that, and when he did, he felt something in his gut. He still feels it now, thinking about it. He doesn’t know what it is though.
“I think it’s good for you.”
Izuku took his hand off Katsuki, but stood closer than he did before. Close enough their shoulders would brush against each other if Katsuki relaxed his. Close enough he could hear Izuku breathing softly, despite the loud crashing waves of the ocean. Close enough that when he looks over to the boy, he could count every freckle dotted across his face and every eyelash on his eyes.
“I don’t care if you think it’s good for me.”
Izuku chuckles.
“There you are.”
There you are. Three words that affected Katsuki greatly. Izuku was talking about the old Katsuki, the one from only a few months ago. Before their fight about All-Might, where he found out about Izuku’s quirk being passed down. Before they realized they aren’t enemies, but rivals. Before all the realization that dawned on Katsuki. The angry version of himself, the true version of himself. That’s what Izuku meant. There’s the Katsuki they all know and don’t love.
“Yeah,” Katsuki mumbles with pain hidden deep in his voice, “there I am.”
Izuku looks up at Katsuki, trying to read his emotions. The emotions Katsuki was unaware of. It danced across his face beautifully, the pain, the sorrow. The longing. Katsuki felt it in his gut instead. A pain that was caused by no punch or kick, a pain he couldn’t pin point. He didn’t know what to do about it other than suffer through it. Usually when he gets hurt by a fight, whether it be a villain or training with Kirishima, he waits until the pain wears off. It always does. This new pain never has.
“Do you hate the old you?”
Katsuki’s head snaps to Izuku. Izuku stares deep into Katsuki’s eyes.
“What?”
“Do you?”
Katsuki opened his mouth to respond. To spit an insult, to say something offensive to deflect the question. He could lift his fist right now and sock the boy in the face for ever asking something so deep. Katsuki doesn’t do any of that. In fact, he doesn’t do anything. He stands, frozen, his mouth agape. Taking in the words Izuku asked him.
“You were angry,” Izuku says. “So angry, all the time.”
He knows that, why did Izuku have to shove it in his face?
“I hated it. I thought you resented me, everybody. You didn’t want to come out with us, or do anything at all. You kept to yourself, you were so cruel to them. To me.”
Izuku’s eyes trailed away from Katsuki, lingering on Jiro and Kaminari who were now laying flat on the sand, their hands intertwined with one another’s, their heads turned to look at each other.
“You never invited me.”
Izuku freezes.
“You realize that, right?” Katsuki asks, his voice gentle. Gentler than it’s ever been before. Gentle not with kindness, but pain. The same pain that caused the feeling in his stomach, the same pain he could never avoid.
“I-I,” Izuku stammers, trying to grasp any words. His throat felt raw, and his fingers were numb. He couldn’t grasp at anything.
“I probably wouldn’t have came out anyways, you’re right about that part,” Katsuki grumbles, the pain subsiding and faint anger laced through his voice. “But you never invited me. To the celebration after the exam, to the late night games, to your birthday party.”
Izuku felt raw.
“I don’t blame anybody. Especially not you.”
Izuku’s head tilted, looking at Katsuki again. The blond’s eyes were lit up by the moonlight as he stares at water shining in the late hours of the night. The blond’s eyes had no glimmer in them.
“Why not me?”
“I hated you,” Katsuki responds. “At least that’s what you thought. I did too.”
“I could’ve asked you though… to come to my birthday party,” Izuku whispers, his eyes still trained on Katsuki’s. Katsuki doesn’t glance away from the water, not even for a mere second.
“I would’ve said no.”
“Would you still?”
Katsuki paused, thinking about his question. Izuku Midoriya. The nerd, the shitface. The quirkless loser he grew up alongside. The puppy who always trailed behind him, thinking he knew what was best for Katsuki.
“No.”
Izuku smiles softly, looking at Katsuki’s lips. He’s frowning.
“So you don’t hate me anymore then?”
“I never did.”
Izuku nods slowly, looking back up at his eyes. Still, no glimmer.
“I know that.”
Katsuki broke his stare with the water, drifting to the couple laying on the sand. Then to the rest of his friends, all scattered across the beach, doing different things. Mina, Kirishima and Sero all playing with a football. Uraraka, Asui, Todoroki and Todoroki sitting at a picnic bench, playing some type of card game illuminated by a phone flashlight. Iida laughing about something Yaoyorozu said. Then back to Jiro and Kaminari, who snuck a quick kiss as Katsuki looks over. His gaze adverted back to his hands, his eyebrows furrowing.
“You saw that too?” Izuku giggles. “They kissed.”
Katsuki nods, “it’s gross.”
“You think so?” Izuku questions, looking up at the boy. Katsuki doesn’t look grossed out.
“Yeah,” Katsuki mutters, not convincingly. Izuku gives him a playful smile, poking the boy in his side. Katsuki flicks his hand away, flinching away from the sudden touch. Then adjusts himself to the same position they were before, only their shoulders now pressed up against another and his side tingling.
“It’s not gross, it’s love.”
Right, love. The feeling Katsuki didn’t know.
“Love is gross,” Katsuki juts, “and like I said earlier, I thought you wanted nothing to do with that.”
“I didn’t.”
“Didn’t?”
Izuku doesn’t respond. He stares at the happy couple who laughed amongst each other. Kaminari rested on his elbow, still laying down but hovering over the girl beside him. His fingers laced through her hair, brushing it out although there wasn’t a single knot in sight. She laughs again at something Kaminari shared, who had his own dopey grin on his face. Katsuki subconsciously smiles. A small, soft smile. One that he couldn’t feel pull on his lips. One that Izuku noticed.
“You feel it too.”
Katsuki’s smile drops, looking at Izuku. Izuku’s already looking back.
“Feel what?”
“Longing.”
Katsuki narrows his eyes, “the fuck do you mean?”
“I can tell you a million times what I want, Kacchan,” Izuku starts, “the dream life. Fighting villains, saving the world. Being the greatest hero that anyone’s ever seen.”
“Second greatest—”
“Shush.” Izuku shoots Katsuki a glare, but a smile still held onto his face and the glimmer shone in his eyes. Katsuki smiles at this.
“But love… it’s a feeling everyone chases. It’s in our blood to crave it.”
“Not mine,” Katsuki points out.
“It is,” Izuku says sternly. “You just don’t know it yet.”
“How would you know what the hell I feel and don’t?”
Izuku doesn’t break eye contact with Katsuki.
“Tell me about those you love, Kacchan.”
Katsuki has nothing to say to this. He hates talking about love. He doesn’t know anything about it. He never will.
“I don’t know.”
Izuku smiles, “you don’t love anybody?”
“I don’t know how to.”
Katsuki thought back to Izuku’s question earlier. Do you hate the old you? He thought about the anger that coursed through him. The rage that bubbled in his stomach, that overtook every part of his body. He thought about where he would be if he never felt that wrath. Would he understand how to love somebody? If his old self wasn’t so resentful, could he be in love right now? Could he emit the same feelings his fellow classmates did toward each other to somebody else? If his old self wasn’t the way he was, maybe Katsuki would be able to see the glimmer in his own eyes, too. If his old self wasn’t so fucking stupid, maybe Katsuki wouldn’t have this pain in his gut. Maybe Katsuki would be happy.
Though, isn’t that hypocritical? If he did hate his old self for being so hateful, wouldn’t that make the current Katsuki someone who never changed? Though, he didn’t know if he could accept his old self for being a fire. A fire that burned loudly, a forest fire full of flames. A fire screaming with agony, burning with rage. A fire that destroyed everything in it’s path to get to it’s destination, just to burn there too. He knows he isn’t that fire anymore, though fire never fully distinguishes. Even when a fire stops burning, the smoke that trails after suffocates everything around it. Katsuki knew he’d never change. He was still the same person he always was, only now he’s burnt out.
“You don’t know how to love?”
Katsuki shakes his head, looking away from Izuku with shame.
“Think about it,” Izuku suggests. “Think about what you feel towards Kirishima, Mina, all of your friends.”
Katsuki looks over at the red haired boy. He’s with Mina and Sero still, his knees bent as his head darts back and forth, following the football that was soaring through the air. Katsuki watches as the boy catches it with one hand, throwing his other up in a fist. A bright smile flashes across his face as he jumps up with joy and Katsuki could see his mouth move as he shouted something to his friends which caused them to laugh. Then Kirishima threw the football with a perfect spiral, directly into Mina’s hands. Mina stumbles back a bit from the force of the throw, but the smile never leaves her face. It never left any of their faces. Katsuki felt the pain in his gut again, staring at them.
“I feel pain in my gut,” he announces, finally telling somebody about it.
“Pain? In your gut?”
He nods.
“When you look at Kirishima?”
“All of them,” Katsuki points to his classmates. “I feel it while looking at any of them. When they laugh, all of it.”
Izuku nods, the glimmer leaving his eyes as he took in what Katsuki said.
“Oh,” he whispers softly, knowingly.
“What does it mean?”
Izuku looks up at Katsuki again, biting the inside of his cheek. He saw the longing in Katsuki’s face again as the blond watched their classmates. He saw the pain written across his face. All the emotions that Katsuki felt in his gut.
“I’m sorry we never invited you out, Kacchan.”
Katsuki frowns.
“That was hypocritical of us,” Izuku mumbles. “Not inviting you because you were always angry and rude. It was rude of us to do that to you. You didn’t deserve any of that.”
Katsuki felt the pain again, this time greater.
“I don’t care.”
“It’s okay if you do,” Izuku responds, not looking away from the boy, trying to read all the emotions that danced across his face. Katsuki doesn’t know how to stop them from showing so openly, he doesn’t even know they are.
“I don’t, stop talking about it.”
He does, though. He doesn’t know that. He still stares at Kirishima, thinking about what he felt about the boy. Kirishima is a nice guy. He’s always making everyone around him laugh without trying to. He’s naturally funny. He knows how to lighten up a mood, and can get along with anyone in the class. Katsuki would always bully the boy, calling his hair shit or throwing a punch to the boy. Yet Kirishima would always laugh, telling Katsuki that he’s his best friend. Katsuki would simply scoff at those remarks, walking away from the boy. Katsuki liked Kirishima. Despite it all, he found himself lingering around the red haired boy because Kirishima was Kirishima. Everyone enjoyed his company, even Katsuki. Did that mean he loved Kirishima though? He always would train with the boy, both of them throwing any punch or kick toward each other at any chance they got. Though he always made sure to help Kirishima up after he would be knocked down, and never hit him hard enough to hurt the boy.
Is that love?
“So, you feel pain in your gut when you look at your friends,” Izuku says. Katsuki didn’t feel the pain when he thought about hanging around Kirishima, only when he stared at him from afar. He tells Izuku this.
“Yeah, I figured,” Izuku nods. “What about me? What do you feel when you look at me?”
Katsuki looks at Izuku. Fully, this time. Taking in every part of Izuku’s face. From the slight scar on his upper lip, to the messed up curls atop his head that blew in the slight breeze. He looks at Izuku’s soft jawline, his neck that peeked up from the hoodie he wore. He looks at the hoodie, the light blue colour of his jeans. Then to his shoes, those stupid ugly red shoes that he never took off. Katsuki chuckles.
“I feel like you need new shoes.”
Izuku hits him, laughing too”
“Think, Kacchan.”
So he did. He thought about what he felt about Izuku. If this were middle school, he’d say he felt repulsed. Repulsed by every fiber that is Izuku Midoriya. He’d say he felt like the boy needed to fuck off, to get a life, to stop being such a fucking loser. This isn’t middle school. Katsuki doesn’t know how he feels now. He did know, however, that he doesn’t hate the boy. Katsuki looks at Izuku deeply again, this time staring into his green eyes. The glimmer shines brighter ever than before and for a second, Katsuki swears the stars left the night sky and rested in the eyes before him instead. There it is again, the pain. The pain he felt when he stared at his friends together, the pain he felt all the time. It isn’t in his gut anymore. It’s in his chest.
Katsuki stumbles back slightly, twisting his body so it was facing Izuku. His hand catches himself on the wooden rail, a sharp pain shooting up his finger as it slid, a splinter lodging itself into his skin. It’s nothing like the pain in his chest, though. This pain is a fire. Like the fire that he burned as only a few months prior, only it resides in his chest. Fuck, it is burning. Katsuki thought back to all the times him and Izuku spent together in the last few months. Izuku sneaking into Katsuki’s room after curfew, slinging himself across Katsuki’s bed messily as Katsuki studied. Izuku teasing him about his messy hair. Izuku’s laugh as Katsuki grumbled out rude insults to the boy. Izuku’s smile when Katsuki smiled too. Izuku. Izuku. Izuku.
“What is it, Kacchan?”
His voice is soft. Barely above a whisper. Katsuki’s eyes were wide, his hand gripping the wooden rail like his life depended on it. He’s tense, veins poking out of his arm as he stares back at Izuku. Into his eyes, watching the glimmer dance around without a care in the world. He thinks about the way the glimmer died earlier, when Izuku stared at Jiro and Kaminari. He felt the pain in his gut then, too. Seeing the life drain from his friends face, replaced by a void expression. Staring at the glimmer now, the pain clawed at his chest, burning in his heart. Izuku, laughing mindlessly with all his friends, slung across the dorm’s couch downstairs, his head in Todoroki’s lap. Izuku, showing off his new All-Might shirt to Katsuki in his room, decorated with multiple pictures of the hero. Izuku, grabbing Katsuki’s hand when they were stood before villains that ambushed them last month. Katsuki, who didn’t dare to let a single person lay their hands on the boy. Katsuki, who didn’t let Izuku drop his hand either.
“I-I,” Katsuki stammers, not able to break eye contact with Izuku. Izuku, who stands before him, the glimmer so fucking bright Katsuki feels blinded. Izuku, wearing Katsuki’s old hoodie he took from his closet, the one that was ‘too small for him now’. Izuku, who was only mere inches away from Katsuki. Izuku, who caused this fire to burn in his chest again, the fire he tried to hard to run away from.
“What is it Kacchan?”
Kacchan. The nickname Izuku called him for years, since they were just kids. The name rolled off his tongue so softly, so gently. Katsuki shakes his head, trying to escape his thoughts. Though they scratched at his brain, begging to be heard. Katsuki refused, pushing every single thought he has about Izuku away, begging to think of something else. The fire wouldn’t stop burning in his chest, and as Izuku laid his hand oh-so gently on top of Katsuki’s which rested on the rail, the fire spread there too.
“Don’t,” Katsuki whispers, snatching his hand away from the touch.
“Are you okay?”
No, not at all.
“Yes.”
“Then what is it?”
“I have a splinter,” Katsuki mutters softly, hiding his hand behind his back. The splinter is the least of his worries, though. He didn’t feel it at all. He felt everything except that. All these feelings he’s never felt before, burning inside him. He sure as hell didn’t feel like this when he looked at Kirishima, so why did he feel it when he looked at the stupid boy he ran away from his whole life?
“What?” Izuku asks loud and stern, stepping forward to grab Katsuki’s arm. He yanks it toward him, causing Katsuki to stumble forward. If he fell any closer, he would’ve fallen right into Izuku. That’s how close they were.
“It’s fine,” Katsuki says, not retracting his hand. The fire spread through his whole arm, still dancing in his chest too. With Izuku’s hands on him, turning his wrist so his palm was upright, it burned. He doesn’t know what that means.
“I can take it out.”
There he goes again, always offering his help where it’s not needed. That’s what he’s been doing this whole time, trying to help Katsuki understand his feelings. Understand what it’s like to love someone. If this were middle school, he would’ve told Izuku that he doesn’t need his fucking help, to stop sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. Here, he looks at Izuku’s small hand wrapped around his wrist, his other hand prodding at his finger, tugging at the piece of wood. His breath hitches as Izuku gets a hold on it, pulling it out. Izuku looks up, noticing this.
“Did that hurt? I’m sorry.”
It didn’t hurt, not even a little bit.
“A little,” Katsuki whispers. Neither of them looked away from each other, and Izuku didn’t drop Katsuki’s hand. Katsuki didn’t move away from his touch.
“I got it out at least,” Izuku boasts, a smile on his lips. Katsuki can’t breathe, looking at the boy. The smoke from the fire in his chest is suffocating him. When Izuku finally drops his hand after holding it a second too long, he took a deep breath, and the fire rested in his chest again.
“Yeah, you did.”
Katsuki doesn’t thank him. He doesn’t do anything. He stands still, not stepping away from Izuku, still staring into those damn glimmering eyes. The trace of Izuku’s hands on him lingered, a slight burn etched into his skin. For a moment, he thought about giving himself another splinter, just to feel his warm touch again. He doesn’t know what that means.
“Sorry for hurting you,” Izuku chuckles, “but it would’ve hurt more if you left it, you know?”
Katsuki furrows his brows. Why did he always want to help him? Katsuki hated being helped. Izuku knew this, yet jumped at every opportunity to do something for the blond. Izuku always stood by his side, even back when Katsuki was the fire himself. Izuku wasn’t afraid of being burnt. He doesn’t know what that means.
“What are you thinking about?”
“You.”
Katsuki said it without a second thought.
Izuku blushes.
Katsuki could light up an entire city with this fire in his chest.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Katsuki responds. “You told me to.”
Izuku didn’t have to ask Katsuki if he was thinking about him. Izuku already knew. Izuku always knew, because whenever Katsuki laughed beside him it was there. Whenever Katsuki and him would be alone, doing the most thoughtless things like studying or judging each other’s closets, it was there. Whenever Katsuki thought about Izuku, it was there.
It was there now, Izuku knows what that means.
“I know.”
“You knew I was thinking about you?”
“Yes.”
“I’d hope so, after you told me to,” Katsuki chuckles. It’s still there.
“No, that’s not why.”
Katsuki looks confused. Izuku smiles.
“Then why, Deku?”
“The glimmer, in your eyes.”
Katsuki’s breath hitched again, his entire body burning.
“The glimmer…”
“Yeah, Kacchan.”
What was the glimmer, exactly? He thought he never had it. He grew up being so angry and resentful, the glimmer never shone in his eyes. He saw it in everyone else. Everybody around him. The glimmer he saw in everyone else’s eyes as they laughed together. The glimmer in Jiro and Kaminari’s eyes when they looked at each other. The glimmer that was lighting up the entire sky from Izuku’s own. The glimmer he craved so gravely. The glimmer that shone in his own eyes, right now, as he thought about Izuku.
He freezes.
The glimmer, that showed a million emotions that Katsuki never felt before. The glimmer, that showed happiness, hope, desire, love—
“Love?” he whispers quietly to himself. Izuku hears it too.
The fire burning in his chest. The fire that burned at Izuku’s touch. The fire that burned deep within him, not from the anger that resided once, but instead a new feeling. A new feeling he never understood or felt before, a feeling that emitted flames that grew taller and burned brighter than the sun in the blue sky. A feeling that Katsuki always felt around Izuku, though he assumed it was hatred, resentment. If this were middle school, maybe it would’ve been. Maybe this fire he felt would be every negative emotion he used to feel when he was the old Katsuki. That’s not him anymore though. He didn’t feel a single negative emotion in his body, and he knew that. He understood that, as for he knew all too well about those emotions. This fire wasn’t any of that. It wasn’t hot and piercing, it’s warm and bright. Like Izuku’s eyes, in the moonlight, sharing the same glimmer that danced with his own. Katsuki knew what that meant.
“Hey,” Izuku says softly before him, his hand gently grabbing Katsuki’s own. If this were middle school, Katsuki would’ve never thought about holding Izuku’s hand, Izuku’s hand would be slapped away in an instant.
Katsuki laces his fingers with Izuku’s.
“Kacchan…?”
Katsuki looks away from the boy, staring at Jiro and Kaminari instead.
“I get it now,” he whispers.
“Get what?”
Izuku’s eyes follow Katsuki’s. His breath hitches.
“The longing.”
Izuku’s eyes dart back to Katsuki, watching as the glimmer sparkled in his eyes.
“And I don’t hate the old me either, Deku. I don’t think I ever will, despite everything I did to our friends, to you.”
Izuku has no words, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Katsuki looks down at him again, the glimmer in their eyes dancing like a candlelight flame.
“I don’t have the pain in my gut when I look at you,” he mumbles, his cheeks burning. “I feel it in my chest.”
Izuku and Katsuki both knew what that meant.
“I feel it too,” Izuku whispers, his fingers tightening around Katsuki’s.
Katsuki never changed. He was a destructive forest fire, burning everything around him. Nobody ever wanted to get close, they’d burn too. Izuku wasn’t scared though, he never was. Never would be. Izuku wanted to help put out the flames, he was soft like the ocean. He wanted to help Katsuki, like he always did. He never changed either. If this were middle school, Katsuki would’ve exploded, destroying Izuku too. Here, he was still the same fire he always was. Only this time, the fire was full of a feeling he never understood. He never wanted to understand. He always craved to understand. A feeling that always ran away from him, like he ran away from everything else to chase, unknowingly. A feeling that finally got into his reach, and he grasped onto.
He’ll never let it go now.