Work Text:
„So ugly.“
Izuku sat on the edge of his bed in his dorm room. His hands trembled slightly as they rested on his lap. He wasn’t sure if it was caused by the cold temperature in his room, since he didn’t turn the heater on or if it was something else.
His chest felt tight, like something inside him was trying to burst free, but he didn‘t know how to let it out.
Weeks had passed since the war, and though the world was moving forward, Izuku felt stuck at one place. Without his quirk, the dream he’d chased his entire life felt unreachable, it was slipping through his fingers like sand. The thought of having to deal with letting go of his dream forever stung worse than any of his wounds.
What’s a hero without a quirk?
He blinked quickly, his vision blurring with tears. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it only seemed to grow. His left hand clenched the sheets beneath him as he fought to hold himself together.
A sudden knock at the door startled him. Izuku froze, wiping his eyes quickly as he tried to compose himself. His voice trembled when he called out, „Yeah?“
„Hey,“ Izuku recognized the voice immediately. „Why weren’t you at dinner? Are you ditching again?“
He hesitated before answering. „I’m not hungry. Thanks, though.“ he responded.
For a moment, there was silence on the other side of the door. Izuku expected the person to leave, maybe grumble something under their breath, but instead, he heard the door click shut and glanced up to see a blonde boy walking toward him.
Katsuki didn’t speak right away. He sat beside Izuku on the bed, close but not so close that it felt like an intrusion. For a moment, the only sound was their breathing and Izuku’s quiet sniffles.
Katsuki leaned back on his hands and broke the silence. „So,“ he started, „you gonna tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to beat it out of you?“
Izuku gave a weak laugh, shaking his head. Even though his words were rough, Izuku knew he didn’t mean them. He never did. In his own way, it was just an attempt to make Izuku smile at least a bit, and that clearly worked for a split second. „I’m fine, Kacchan. Really.“ Izuku said.
„Yeah, right.“ Katsuki snorted. „You suck at lying. We both know that.“
Izuku stared at his hands again, his voice barely above a whisper when he finally broke the silence. „I… I’ve been thinking about everything. About the war and… losing One For All.“ His fingers brushed his cheek again. „And this stupid, stupid thing.“
Katsuki frowned, turning slightly to face him. „Your scar?“
Izuku nodded. „I look in the mirror, and it’s like I don’t recognize myself anymore. I don’t like it. I don’t like…“ His voice cracked, causing him to not finish the sentence. He felt like saying it out loud would only hurt him more. „My freckles are gone. Almost all of them. I have scars everywhere. I don’t like the way I look. I don’t even know if I look like me anymore.“ He whispered, letting his tears slowly fall from his big, green eyes. He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders slightly shaking.
For a moment, Katsuki didn’t say anything. He was terrible at this - at comforting people, at finding the right words. Both Katsuki and Izuku knew that. Even though Katsuki cared, and he cared so much, he didn’t know how to give out words of support to people, even if it was for people he cared about the most in this world. He sucked at this, but damn it, he couldn’t just sit there and do nothing while Izuku fell apart in front of him.
Katsuki’s pulse was getting faster. After a moment of hesitation, he reached out, his hand hovering before gently pulling Izuku’s hands away from his face. „Izuku,“ He said, unsure of what to do.
Izuku’s heart twisted at the way Katsuki said his name, like it was something precious. He could listen to him saying his name over and over again for hours and he would never get tired of it.
The green-haired boy looked at the taller one through watery eyes, his breath hitching when Katsuki gently cupped his face. Katsuki’s heart was beating so fast. So fast, he thought it was going to jump out of his chest and run a marathon any second. His touch was firm but careful, his thumb brushing lightly over the scarred skin.
„One,“ Katsuki murmured, his thumb brushing over a freckle on the left side of Izuku’s face. His touch lingered there for a moment before shifting slowly. „Two,“ he said softly. His eyes never left Izuku’s face, scanning it like he was trying to remember every tiny detail. „Three. Four.“ He continued, this thumb moving with care, brushing over another faint freckle near Izuku’s eye.
Izuku watched him through tear-filled eyes, his breath hitching each time Katsuki’s fingers moved. There was something in the way Katsuki looked at him. He watched him as if Izuku wasn’t just a person sitting in front of him but a masterpiece, like every mark on his skin told a story that Katsuki wanted to know by heart.
„Five,“ Katsuki kept going, slowly counting each freckle, his touch soft, like each one was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.
To Katsuki, they were.
Each freckle was a piece of Izuku, a fragment of the boy who had always fought and bled and smiled through everything, no matter how much it hurt. Katsuki couldn’t understand how Izuku saw himself as anything less that extraordinary. Even now, scarred and trembling and broken, Katsuki thought he had never seen anything, or anyone, more beautiful.
He stopped counting when he reached the last visible freckle on Izuku’s right cheek, his thumb brushing over it one last time before his hand stilled. Katsuki’s eyes softened as they met Izuku’s. He didn’t need to say the number aloud. Izuku would never forget it now.
„They’re still here,“ Katsuki said softly, his voice almost unrecognizable. „Not all of them, but enough.“ His thumb slowly traced the edge of the scar, careful not to hurt him. „And even if some of them are gone, I still know where they were.“ He said. „I’ll always know, Izuku. Hell, I could count them with my eyes closed.“
Izuku’s lip trembled, his tears spilling silently as Katsuki leaned in.
He took a breath, his hand still steady against Izuku’s cheeks. „You know what I thought when we were kids?“ he asked and watched as Izuku shook and lowered his head, staring at his blue-colored bedsheet. Katsuki sighed and continued: „Every time I saw you running around like an idiot with that smile on your face, those freckles made it look like the sun left some kind of a mark on you. And I hated that because-“ Izuku looked up and blinked a few times. „Because it made me look at you. All the time.“
His thumb brushed lightly over the scar again, tracing the line where the freckles once were. „They’re gone, but not to me. I see and remember every single damn one.“ Katsuki said, staring at his cheeks. „If you don’t remember who you are, I will tell you. If you forget about your freckles, I will remind you.“ Izuku’s lips parted, trembling as tears welled up again. Katsuki’s grip was steady as he leaned in a little closer. „And if you can’t see the good in yourself, I’ll show you. If you think that a scar or no quirk makes you less, I’ll drag you back from that stupid thought every single damn time if I have to.“
Katsuki let go of him. Without another word, he shifted and flopped down onto the bed, his head tilted back like he needed a second to calm down.
Izuku sniffled quietly, wiping at his face with trembling hands. He hesitated, unsure of what to say. „I can’t be a hero without my quirk, Kacchan. I can’t fight beside you anymore.“ He whispered. „What good am I like this?“
Katsuki’s head turned sharply and his eyes fixed on Izuku. „You’re still you.“
The green-haired boy shook his head. „Not without my quirk.“
That did it. Katsuki sat up, his frustration bubbling to the surface. He hated this. He hated when Izuku wouldn’t stop talking about how weak and useless he is, because that just wasn’t the truth, but Izuku saw it differently. Katsuki swung his legs off the bed, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees.
„You think One For All was all you had to offer? Seriously? That’s bullshit, and you know it,“ Katsuki said firmly. „You saved people long before you ever had a quirk. You pulled me out of that fucking sludge villain’s grip without thinking twice. Quirkless. Powerless. You just did it. Because that’s who you are, you idiot.“
Izuku looked at him, his green eyes wide and glistening.
„You’ve been fighting beside me since we were kids, with or without a damn quirk,“ Katsuki continued. „That’s not gonna change now.“
Izuku wiped his eyes. „You make it sound so simple,“
„It is simple.“ Katsuki shot back.
A weak chuckle escaped Izuku’s lips. His shoulders could finally relaxed and his chest felt less tight as well. He glanced at Katsuki, his lips curling into a tiny smile. „You really are stubborn, Kacchan.“
„Damn right I am,“ Katsuki replied.
As soon as Izuku‘s eyes randomly flickered to the mirror standing in the middle of his room, his smile slowly faded. There, the scar on his face stared back at him. With a quiet sigh, he stood up and approached the mirror, his fingers brushing over his right cheek before gently covering it, as if trying to hide the evidence of his failure.
In the mirror’s reflection, Katsuki’s gaze was fixed on him. Izuku hesitated for a moment, then slowly uncovered his cheek. His hand slipped into the pocket of his pants as he turned back to face Katsuki, trying to keep his emotions under control.
Katsuki’s eyes softened when he saw Izuku’s quiet vulnerability. „You don’t need to hide that from me.“
Izuku let out a shaky breath. „I know.“
Katsuki was silent for a moment, watching Izuku closely as if he were seeing him for the first time all over again. Without saying anything, he stood up and walked up to Izuku. Before he knew it, he reached out and gently took Izuku’s hand from his pocket. His grip was warm and comforting. „You’re still you,“ Katsuki said simply.
„Yeah, you already said that. I know.“ he repeated, quieter now.
Katsuki’s grip tightened just a little, his eyes fixed on their intertwined hands. „Then stop acting like something’s missing. I’ll be here.“
Izuku swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest, and for the first time in weeks, he wanted believe it – believe that, even without his quirk, he still had everything he needed. Because Katsuki was here.
For weeks, he had been drowning in his own insecurities, replaying every failure, every moment that led to his quirk slipping away in his head like a movie on loop. But here, with Katsuki, something slowly started to change.
„I’ll be here too,“ Izuku whispered.
Katsuki chuckled and playfully ruffled Izuku’s green hair. „I sure hope you will, idiot.“
And then, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Izuku’s foreheard, lingering there just long enough for the warmth to seep into Izuku’s skin.
Izuku closed his eyes as the kiss lingered. In that brief, quiet moment, all of Izuku’s worries seemed to fade away. The kiss felt like a promise, a vow, that no matter how lost he might ever feel, Katsuki would always be there to find him and reassure him, that everything would be okay.
When Katsuki pulled back, Izuku opened his eyes, a tear slipping down his cheek. He loved Katsuki in all the small quiet ways that made him feel truly understood. He loved him with a depth that he couldn’t quite put into words, but felt with every look, every touch, every breath they shared.
„You’re beautiful.“ he whispered. These words slipped free before he could second-guess them and it slightly caught him off guard.
Katsuki’s eyes widened for a moment, and for a split second, he froze. „Huh?“ A soft pink blush crept across his cheeks and his lips parted slightly, as if he meant to say something else but didn’t know how, and then he just let out a scoff. „Dumbass,“
Instead of meeting Izuku’s gaze, Katsuki turned to face the door. His hand reached up to scratch the back of his neck. The tips of his ears were burning red and the tension in his posture was a dead giveaway that he was battling with himself, unsure of how to handle the sudden compliment.
Izuku couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t need any other verbal response from Katsuki. The blush, the shy scoff, the way Katsuki’s fingers fidgeted nervously – those small things said more than any words ever could.
And Izuku found that, found him, so achingly beautiful.