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It all happened gradually.
It had started with the sinking realization that all his life, Katsuki had been craving something he was so sure he hated. If you had asked him a few months back what his love language was, maybe he would've answered something like "acts of service" or "words of affirmation". Never "physical touch". And yet, ever since he'd noticed how grounded the press of a thigh against his, or a hand running against his back could make him feel, it was all he could think about. He kept seeking it.
And to be fair, it had been quite easy to obtain. After the war, he and Deku had been inseparable, or more like the latter had latched onto him. It was like suddenly, after years of ups and downs, the dam had finally broken. Being stuck together at all times had become something akin to second nature, unable to handle the other being out of sight. It was overwhelming, sometimes, the way Izuku seemed determined to make them merge into a single entity.
"It's a normal reaction," everyone had said. "They are just acclimating to the aftermath of the war."
Maybe they were right. But quickly, it had delved into a habit; sleeping together to ward off nightmares, watching movies under the same blanket, shoulders pressing against each other. Sure, humans were gregarious animals, but Katsuki had never craved someone's touch and attention before. Or at least not in that way. He wanted it all for himself, never to go away.
At first, it wasn't even something he wanted to acknowledge. This... proximity. The vulnerability that came with being seen and being known. If he did, it would all get too real and come crashing down. But as their affections grew more and more insistent, hiding from view wasn't a possibility anymore. It never really was, in honesty. Clasped hands under a blanket and stolen glances fooled no one, not even the most oblivious of their classmates.
The others got used to it. Didn't even spare a glance at their position, now, with the blond sitting in between Izuku's thighs, back against his torso, as if they could merge their atoms and form a single being. Close somehow never felt close enough. Their classmates had insisted on organizing a movie night so as to not let the little time they had left go to waste. School would end in two months and, although many of them were reluctant to acknowledge it, realistically, they would most likely all part ways. Foolish was the hope to keep in touch with your high school friends once in the labor market. Or at least, not as often. It was how they got into this situation. The movie on the screen was quite boring, to be honest. Katsuki had never been into sci-fi. His attention had long drifted towards a more peaceful place in his mind, only focusing on the hand playing with his hair and scratching his scalp. He sighed, content.
I love you, he thought.
"Hm? Did you say something?" Izuku whispered, leaning toward him and resting his chin on his shoulder, his breath hitting the shell of Katsuki's ear.
"I didn't say shit. Must be hearing voices."
He didn't bother voicing his thoughts, knowing this would be a pointless initiative. He had long given up on confessing. He had tried to once, over a year ago, in a quiet moment before sleep took them both. Never a poet, he'd kept it concise in the hope that the message would come across clearly.
"I love you."
Couldn't get more clear than that. A chuckle resonated in the dark.
"I love you too, silly."
A wave of disappointment took over his stomach. It had taken everything in him to utter those words and they still didn't have the expected impact. The blond took a deep breath and tried his luck again, organizing his jumbled thoughts in another way:
"You're more than a friend to me."
"Of course, Kacchan, I know that. It's like..."
Silence filled the room for a few seconds, before Izuku resumed his sentence.
"We're not best friends. I feel like that would be downplaying it. Clearly, we're more than that. We always were. Never fitting in a box, always something more than others couldn't even dream of understanding. But you understand, right?"
Izuku's hand had escaped the warmth of the blanket to rest on his cheek, tracing his scar.
"Tch. Course I do."
The verdet had then pressed a kiss against his forehead and gone back into his sleeping position.
"You know what's funny?"
He didn't bother responding.
"If you were a girl, you would totally be my type."
Needless to say, Katsuki had never tried confessing again after that. At least, he knew what to expect. It's not like he still held hope in that regard. He'd come to accept it. Really, it had become his new idea of normal. As desperate as he was, he would just hold onto whatever crumbs the other boy was giving him, without daring to hope for more. It was easier that way. No expectations. He had grown comfortable in this situation. Sure, it wasn't ideal, but he'd take it all the same. He'd never been too fond of change, anyway. Change somehow seemed to find him regardless.
"I've been thinking about some things lately..."
"Groundbreaking news."
"Don't be so mean to me," Izuku whined.
To emphasize his annoyance, he punched him lightly in the shoulder, earning him a dirty look.
"What? I'm listening."
He looked lost in thoughts as if searching for the appropriate words.
"I think... I'm going to ask Uraraka-san on a date."
Dread filled Katsuki's stomach, like a heavy weight had dropped onto him, sinking into his guts, dragging him down. He tried not to look so upset by the confession, and managed a small:
"That's... great for you, I guess."
"You don't sound too happy about that."
Izuku glanced at him with a pout on his face and eyes filled with worry, leaving the blond exposed, unable to hide. He felt naked under his concerned glare. Unable to lie, he looked away for a while, before admitting:
"I think you should do what feels right. Only..."
"Only what?"
"Where does that leave us?"
Izuku looked at him in confusion. He could have been clearer, explained the depth of his feelings, let out the evergoing thoughts consuming his mind. Instead, he opted for half-truths, as always.
"If you really end up dating her, it means you will have less time for me."
He sounded selfish, he sounded entitled, he sounded immature. But in that moment, he was true to himself. Maybe it was part of his nature. Maybe he was selfish, entitled, immature. He had heard it plenty of times before, disguised as comments in passing or meaningless jokes. But they were hurtful jokes nonetheless, sometimes too spot-on to be interpreted as just joking. Sometimes uttered by his parents, off-handed comments about his behavior, here and there. They laughed about how they didn't know how they had managed to raise an asshole like him.
Other times, his friends were the ones acting that way; teasing him, dismissing his feelings as a joke. They didn't mean anything by it, probably. It wasn't their fault if his insecurities overrode the logical part of his brain. Katsuki saw evil everywhere. Absolutely everywhere. He couldn't help it; it simply was engraved in his wiring, and no amount of effort or therapy would ever change it. He'd know, after all his tries and failures. It was embedded in his mind, his soul, and every other part of him. Sometimes, it led him to wonder if his friends actually liked him. Maybe this was all a game of pretending; maybe he was running on stolen time, and any misstep would lead them to turn back on him. But then, they showered him with affection, and he just wanted to cry, overwhelmed by the realization that maybe, just maybe, his mind was playing tricks on him and they really did love him. And he loved them back. But unfortunately, this love wasn't the one he craved.
"Of course not!" Deku exclaimed, almost shouting, raising his palms in front of him as if to show his good faith. "I will always make time for you! You should know that by now."
He put on his thinking face for a few seconds before wrapping his arms across the blond's shoulders, facing him, and adding in a small voice:
"Does that mean you think she'll say yes?"
"Anyone in their right mind would."
"Kacchan! Don't make fun of me; this is a serious matter," he whined, hiding his face in the other boy's chest.
"I'm not kidding. Even I would say yes if you asked me out on a date."
Especially me, he thought somberly. Even though he'd long abandoned the idea of his feelings being reciprocated, he couldn't help but throw it out there; a message in a bottle sent adrift with the hope of the right person catching it.
"Haha, don't be silly. But... that's very kind of you to say that. Thank you."
The hands that were resting over the junction between his neck and his shoulder blades brought him down slightly so that the shorter man could plant a quick kiss on his cheek. Even knowing this gesture definitely didn't hold the same significance for the two of them, Katsuki still couldn't help but revel in the affection.
"Look, she's over there!"
"You should ask her out now," the words left his mouth of their own accord.
He'd reached insane levels of self-sabotage, his traitorous body ignoring the desperate cries for help from his heart. Maybe it was an aftermath of being unraveled and sewn back together. Maybe pieces of him had been assembled the wrong way, with no means to fix him, now that it was all over and way too late. Maybe Katsuki was just damaged beyond salvation.
"Well, I'll see you later! I'll tell you how it went tonight."
The cheery voice didn't reach him, muffled by the parasitic noises in his head.
No matter how hard you tried to glue a shattered china vase back together, some pieces were always going to be lacking. Speckles of dust you didn't know could be missed, rendering the final art piece incomplete, never to be fixed.
˗ˏˋ✩ˎˊ˗
Today was a special day. School outings to museums were usually considered pretty boring by teenagers, who preferred the 'good stuff' like amusement parks. However, in a post-war context, where multiple historical artifacts had been destroyed during an ongoing series of terrorist attacks and multifarious acts of vandalism, moments like these were immensely appreciated. Most cities around the area had been partly destroyed, outside of safe zones. Building everything back had taken some time. At first glance, it all seemed normal, but someone who had grown up here couldn't be fooled. It was the tiny things ignorant eyes would fail to detect; the same way you would notice if your best friend's irises suddenly changed color. A small crack in a building that wasn't there before, commemorative plates ornating sidewalks, the corner shop owners who looked like they'd lost 20 years off their lives.
If war carried any beauty, that was it: the appreciation that came with the aftermath, the timid smiles given to the kind neighbors who'd lost their daughter, the gratefulness that some objects as trivial as museum merch had made it through.
"Come on, it'll be funny if we match!"
Katsuki huffed and dislodged the museum cap from where it had been pulled down on his head before pinning it to his jeans. Although the display of affection softly diffused warmth through his chest and stomach, he wasn't in the mood to engage in silly activities. If someone noticed the care with which he attached the back of the cap through the hoop of his pants, they didn't say anything. No one ever seemed to, these days. They probably thought he would break down crying again. He had cried a few times, in the weeks after the war. His friends had never seen him act this way, and maybe it scared them, to have their strongest classmate, their incarnation of victory, seem so helpless. After that, they had started treating him as though he was made out of porcelain.
Or perhaps the horde of teenagers was just eager to make it out of the souvenir shop and actually get inside the museum. Outings like that had never really been his thing, but a change of scenery was highly appreciated. It was an interesting one, at least. The school had brought them to one of the biggest natural history museums in the country; bustling with tourists and filled with enthusiastic chatter noises. The part he was most excited about was the early stages of the universe. Katsuki had been to multiple expositions like this one in the past, and they were often organized chronologically. He had always preferred the beginning. It was intriguing. The future was impossible to predict, and he genuinely did not see a point in doing so. Take it from an eighteen-year-old war veteran: nothing was ever certain. The past was way more interesting. How was it? What was even before the past? What did it look like when everything was just stars and an infinite void?
One could argue that the universe was basically still stars and an infinite void; you just had to look beyond your own planet to see it. And he did, he really did. When sleep didn't come easily to him—on the rare nights he spent alone in his bed—he just perched himself on the edge of his balcony and looked up at the sky until he felt his consciousness drifting off.
So, even though he acted all sulky and gruff, he was quite impatient to see it.
Just like the ones he had been to before, this one started with the creation of the universe. Different models were exposed, showing a step-by-step process that would be the beginning of everything that ever was. The replicas sometimes even moved, mechanically animated.
They all entered a big room that resembled a planetarium. Constellations were projected onto a dome-shaped ceiling, and Katsuki rushed to read the explanatory signs stuck on the walls. Taking in all the information was his favorite part. It felt good to know he was taking in knowledge in a context that wasn't forced upon him, that wasn't in an academic context but out of genuine wonder and curiosity. He'd been like that as a child. As boisterous as he was, he'd always had a thirst for knowledge. Knowing so many things made him feel grown-up, smart, or at least smarter than the other kids. When his mom's friends came over for tea parties, they'd gush over him, gasping, "What a smart boy he is!" and it made him blush all the way to his ears, grinning in satisfaction when they turned to his mom and added, "If only my kid could be a bit more like yours... You guys really did a great job". Now that he was older, he couldn't help but think it was a fucked-up thing to say about your own child.
Suddenly, he felt a presence behind him, chin settling against his shoulder. Only a few seconds after, arms crept up to circle his waist, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
"What are you doing?"
"Reading," he answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Not that you would know a thing about that."
Not taking the bait, Izuku chuckled and admitted:
"You're right. I am more into writing than reading, anyway. Except if you count comics, maybe, but even then I don't think I read more than I write, you know."
"Yeah. I know"
They exchanged soft smiles, and the older boy turned his head before smirking and pointing his index at the sign in front of them.
"Look. That's us."
Binary stars. He'd heard of them multiple times but they had never resonated with him more than they did in this instant.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, they orbit around each other, first of all," he explained, his hand coming back to rest on top of the arms circling his waist. "Of course they are two distinct entities but, from afar, they are just one. Also, sometimes, they become so close that they evolve together, and become something greater than single stars could ever be."
Izuku giggled.
"Who knew you could get all cute and sentimental like that?"
Feeling the scarlet creep up his ears, he quickly dislodged the other boy from where they were interlocked and strode to the other side of the room, under endeared laughter.
˗ˏˋ✩ˎˊ˗
The morning passed quite quickly. Soon enough, class 3-A found itself sitting outside, basking in the sun, enjoying its rare warmth. The weather didn't look so nice these days, making them all the more grateful when it did. They sat on typical picnic blankets one of their classmates had had the amiability to create for them. His was checkered and customized to his signature colors, a nice gesture he reminded himself to thank her for.
He was devouring his sandwich, sitting on Izuku's left. Of course, one didn't go without the other. The verdet's legs were spread on top of his, as he was chatting excitedly with his girlfriend about something they had seen earlier during the exposition.
A surprising outcome of this relationship was that he didn't feel jealous of Uraraka. Not one bit. He kind of liked the way things were and, of course, he would prefer to have Izuku all for himself, but he knew that was impossible. It was like he held her in such high esteem that he could not even hold resentment toward her. After all, she was strong and funny, in a silly way. He could clearly see why one would pursue her. What hurt him most, though, was Izuku's behavior. It seemed he was getting clingier as time went by, and did not feel the need to acknowledge the awkwardness this situation could cause. If anything, he felt sorry for his Round Cheeks. She was the one who had to put up with pitying looks and snarky remarks.
"Are you sure you're the one he's dating? He seems to get pretty cozy with his best buddy."
They weren't best buddies, not that any of them braindead extras could get it.
When thinking about the whole situation from a more distant point of view, those reactions weren't completely unjustified.
The group had finished eating their picnic and came the inevitable digestion nap time. Both boys were lying down on the blanket; not the most comfortable but at least there was no bug crawling up their faces. Katsuki was spread on his back like a lizard wishing to absorb solar rays. However, his 'best buddy' was quite literally draped onto him, fast asleep. One hand gripped his arm, while the other rested on his opposite shoulder. Similarly, his right leg was pulled over the other's body, almost crushing him. He didn't bother moving him or addressing the situation. This sort of thing had happened so often that the others didn't even bat an eye anymore. Or so he thought.
"Don't you guys think it's a bit weird that they still act all lovey-dovey when he's got a girlfriend?"
"Yeah, I thought they would have grown out of it after a few months, but..."
They must have believed he was asleep. Whatever. Katsuki didn't move, curious as to what their classmates were about to say.
"Well, it's not like they're about to change their whole behavior in a snap of a finger," he heard Kirishima defend them.
"Still, they could hold it in, or at least in front of his girlfriend."
"Come on guys! You shouldn't gossip about them," the aforementioned girlfriend scolded. "Besides, if I cared, we would have a talk about it. You know, like civilized people. You shouldn't spread rumors like that, especially when they're right there."
The blond let out a shuddering breath. As stated earlier, it was impossible to hate this girl. Anyone else in their right mind would be dead of jealousy but somehow, she got it. She understood their need to stay close to each other. Of course, they had never explicitly talked about it, that would make kind of an awkward discussion, to be honest; it was still a bit hard for him to talk about his feelings. He had made some progress with his various therapists but even after almost two years, his thoughts still struggled to connect to his different parts: heart, mind, and mouth.
Grateful for the girl's intervention, but still angered by the way his supposed friends had waited until he was asleep to raise their concerns, he opened his eyes and raised himself to lay back on his elbows. All eyes were on him, or more specifically, on him and the boy that was sound asleep, practically on top of him. He didn't raise his voice, so as to not wake him up, but his words still held the intended sharpness:
"Why don't you say that again to my face?"
Most of them at least had the decency to look embarrassed by their behavior, but Kaminari had never known when to shut up.
"Come on, man, it's not like we were being mean or anything. We were just concerned about you guys."
"Yeah, real way to show concern, talking like that behind our back."
Despite his efforts to keep his voice low, the boy on his chest started to rouse, eyelids fluttering and breaths shortening.
"We weren't exactly being sneaky, I mean, you're just there."
"And yet you still waited until we were asleep to 'voice your concerns'. That's pretty shitty if you ask me. Oh, but wait, you DIDN'T ask me, you all just assumed something fishy was going on."
"What's going on, here?" a slurred voice asked.
"Nothing."
The still half-asleep boy straightened up and turned towards his girlfriend, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Even though the blond had the reputation of being hot-tempered, it had been ages since he'd come to head with someone like that, and especially his friends. He sighed in frustration, before getting up.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm gonna cool down for a bit."
Without waiting to hear anyone's answer, he turned back and headed in the direction of the building, feeling his hurt thumping ferociously in his chest. He grabbed at it, as if the movement would somehow calm him down. It didn't. Fuck. It had been a while since he'd lashed out at someone like that. He'd gotten better at regulating his emotions but they still got the best of him. Old habits died hard, he knew that, but it didn't make the pill easy to swallow. His breaths started to shorten.
In spite of his best efforts, he would never change, would he? He would never become a better person, haunted by a past version of him who was foul, ill-tempered and desperate. A version of himself he tried to get rid off time and time again, but still lingered close to his skin.
Tears prickled his eyes and he rubbed them furiously. He'd accumulated so much pent up tension, these days. He'd tried to keep it contained but it was starting to overflow, busting the seams of his heart. And there it was again, the feeling of wrongness that had made a home inside of his ribs ever since he'd come back from the dead.
Stop, stop, stop.
He was just a bit overwhelmed, that was it. Ever since Deku and Uraraka had started dating, his self-loathing thoughts had made a full-force comeback, coming out of his insides to pull at his heartstrings, taunting.
He bit his lower lip to keep it from quavering, and took a deep and shaky breath. Everything would be fine. He just needed to man up and stop feeling sorry for himself. Everything would be fine.
˗ˏˋ✩ˎˊ˗
It was not.
Just a few weeks later, another existential crisis hit him full force when Deku came up to him, with a weirdly solemn face. A bit of distance had begun to grow between them. He understood that, although Uraraka had been nice enough not to comment on their relationship, the couple also needed time for themselves. But still, it became harder for him to sleep at night, now that he was on his own. He found himself looking at the stars more often. Still, nothing could prepare him for this:
"Yesterday… was a special day."
It was unusual for the chatterbox to tackle topics with such a formal tone and short phrases.
"Hmm. And why is that?"
"Uraraka-san and I had sex."*
An inhuman noise found its way in his throat; a mix between a wheeze and a snort. He spit the smoothie he was drinking, coughing violently when some of it tried to escape by the wrong tube. It was a weird protein shaker Kirishima had made for him, so the texture wasn't exactly ideal to feel up his nose.
"Hum… Congratulations, I guess."
This was all he could manage for the moment, honestly. His cough didn't stop and he started hitting his chest, albeit knowing this move was utterly useless.
"I'm not sure this is something that deserves to be congratulated."
"Was it good?" curiosity got the best of Katsuki.
"I don't know. I kind of spaced out, to be honest," the verdet answered with a worrying platitude.
That probably wasn't a good sign, but after all, what did he know about that stuff?
Katsuki didn't even know that was something people could do. Or, at least, not real people. Not people their age. Not his friends. To him, sex had always been this thing that you see in movies. It remained a distant concept like it hadn't crossed his mind that it was an actual thing. Sure, his teachers had staged interventions for all classes, giving them 'the birds and the bees talk', but it's not like he had taken them seriously. He'd never given it much thought before. Even his parents knew that about him—not that it was something they had explicitly talked about. They just knew, somehow, that he was different. Maybe they'd known before he even suspected anything. He wasn't completely oblivious. He sometimes had strange dreams and also sometimes woke up with morning wood, but it wasn't like he had ever done something about it. Just thinking about it gave him an uneasy feeling. Like a million ants crawling up his stomach and making a home in his throat.
Of course, he'd often heard the other boys talk about these topics. Locker talks and the like. From silly banter about the size of their dicks to enthused games of smash or pass, the other boys didn't refrain from talking about such things. They didn't feel the same… agitation as him.
"What are you making that face for?" they'd say every time. "Don't tell me you're embarrassed! Who would've thought you were such a prude!" one of his friends—most likely Kaminari—would say, grin so wide it was reaching the eyes.
It wasn't embarrassment, not really. It's not like he felt ashamed of having such thoughts, more like he got sick imagining them.
"I'm not embarrassed. I just don't see a point talking about useless shit like that. What good is it gonna do?"
His friends always let him off easily, sensing they wouldn't get anything more out of him. Of course, it wasn't like he could explain the true meaning behind his words, as he couldn't completely understand it himself. He wasn't embarrassed, and yet he could feel shame angrily burn his cheeks at the mere observation that there was something to explain.
Katsuki was different. He'd always been, always reveled in that knowledge. He was different, he was more; he was better than the other kids. Where others gave up, he persevered; where they cried, he grinned; and where they failed, he succeeded. He had known that ever since his youngest age. Early memories of bossing people around, catching the adult's attention in a second. The world had been given to him, and he had taken, taken, taken.
Maybe that was the catch. He'd been too greedy, and the universe needed to even things out somehow, rendering him unable to feel like other people. He'd never been concerned to be like others, always believing in the greatness of his individuality, but the emotional field was more complicated to manage. Especially since countless therapy sessions had made him unable to escape those feelings. Fear, anxiety, sadness, grief... all those sensations had been buried in the pit of his heart, a thick layer of anger acting as cement, protecting the damaged bits. When his vital organ had been shattered to pieces, leaving him raw and exposed, he'd had no other choice but to look them in the eye, in anticipation of the confrontation.
"Are you okay?"
"Huh?"
His eyes snapped open to meet emerald ones.
"You looked like you were somewhere else for a few moments."
"Yeah, I was. Sorry."
Apologies were also easier to give out after hours of emotional management.
"It's okay. I know you do that, sometimes."
I really do, he thought. It was weird to have someone notice those things about you. He cleared his throat.
"So... congratulations, I guess."
"Huh... for what, exactly?"
"For... you know," he made vague gestures with his hands, unsure as to what that even meant, before looking insistently in the direction of the girl in his peripheral vision.
"Oh!" his hands went to rub the back of his neck, an obvious gesture of embarrassment. "I don't believe that is something that makes me deserving of congratulations."
He just shrugged his shoulders. I didn't really mean it, anyway.
So what next? Was this the part where everything changed? Where his 'normal' became 'lonely'? Where he lost his twin star, rendering him useless? He could feel himself on the way to turning into a supernova, almost ready to collapse, bringing down in his fall everyone he ever cherished.
˗ˏˋ✩ˎˊ˗
Maybe he was a bit dramatic, and this wasn't the beginning of the end, as he'd feared. Yes, the—not so new anymore—couple spent much more time together, but he hadn't been completely left behind. If anything, he'd become accustomed to being a third wheel. They both didn't want him to feel excluded but sometimes, he wished they didn't pity him that way. It felt humiliating; like he was a child with attachment issues, who would throw a tantrum as soon as he was separated from his parents. So, to prove he could perfectly handle being on his own, he'd started to distance himself from the couple. However, that turned out to be a bit more complicated than he had anticipated. Thankfully, Izuku was as co-dependent as he was and came back to him in full force as soon as he noticed his removal.
"I'm sorry, Kacchan, I'm so sorry-"
"I know, you've said it a thousand times already."
They were lying down on his bed, after what felt like an eternity of sleeping separately. School was about to end—in one week, to be exact—and they didn't want to waste the little time they still had left together. Face-to-face, the younger boy was spread onto him, pinning him to the bed. It was a position they often found themselves in. Katsuki liked the feeling of having something heavy above him, keeping him grounded. Sometimes they switched roles but the blond liked it less, as Izuku had an unnerving tendency to settle his hands in his jeans' back pockets. Said boy was currently peppering kisses on his face as he kept apologizing, knuckles caressing his collarbones.
"I really am sorry. I shouldn't have made you feel like you had to shut us off."
Internally, he wondered when Deku and Uraraka had become an "us", and he an external element. He did not say a thing about it, though.
"I know."
As much as he wanted to tell him to stop apologizing, he liked the consideration. He liked to be the sole focus of the boy's attention. He knew he should enjoy it while it lasted.
After at least a hundred more muttered apologies, Izuku finally calmed down and settled in the crook of his neck, resting his lips gently against the tan skin and closing his eyes. Enjoying the peacefulness, Katsuki raised his right hand, to pet the green hair tickling his cheek. He felt his mouth quirking up at the edges against his neck, before pressing to kiss him once more, long and slow. The blond didn't say anything, continuing his scalp massage, barely containing a laugh as the other boy started borderline making out with his neck.
He liked these quiet moments between them. That was when he felt most comfortable. These days, it was like they didn't even need to talk, to understand each other. Whereas in the past, his insecurities would twist and turn every word into an attack against his person. They didn't, nowadays. He knew he was loved, even if it weren't in the way he wished it were.
Deku's left hand, which was petting his collarbone, gradually descended to his hips, playing with the hem of his shirt. It was a recent habit of his. Katsuki didn't particularly like it, but he didn't say a thing. It wasn't like he hated it either. It was just a weird feeling. Izuku pulled on the fabric, twirling before releasing it and petting the cloth like that would remove the wrinkles he had caused.
"You're going to ruin my shirt," he complained half-heartedly.
"Sorry."
Instead, his hand slipped under the fabric, thumb running over the junction between his hips and his waist. Katsuki sucked in a breath, stiffening under the touch. He'd never really been a fan of skin-on-skin contact. It made him feel uneasy. He pretended to complain each time his friends wrung him into a hug, but he'd come to like it when people ruffled his hair, laced an arm around his shoulders or simply hit him playfully on the side. But this was a whole other situation. Deku shifted his weight until he slipped on his flank, allowing him to breathe fully. The curious hands snaked their way up to scratch his ribs as he continued kissing his skin, moving from his neck to his collarbones, left exposed by his tank top. Guiltily, Katsuki started to regret wearing it. He loved the green mop head, that was for sure, so why did he feel so uncomfortable with him touching his body? Trying to get out of the embrace discreetly, he wiggled until he was on his side, facing the verdet.
Huge mistake. His hand slipped until it rested in the dip of his hips. He continued rubbing in circles, slowly, as if putting himself to sleep. The unhurried movements kept going until the tip of his fingers breached under the waistband of his pyjamas and settled there. Katsuki choked down a sob, breath unsteady.
"Deku?" he whispered.
Silence greeted him. The fucker had fallen asleep.
He slowly extricated himself from the other's embrace, before rushing to the bathroom. He didn't even turn on the lights, unable to meet his reflection in the mirror.
Burying his fist in his mouth, teeth piercing the flesh, he tried to bite back his tears but it was too late. You shouldn't cry, his mom had always told him. She used to say crying was for the weak, and he was everything but. As a child, unlike the other crybabies leeching onto him, he had learned to release his emotions in various other ways: yelling, biting, fussing, pushing. Never crying. He wasn't a boy anymore, or at least he was trying to man up, and real men did not cry. Real men were reliable and strong enough to protect their wife and their offsprings. Except that would never happen to him, given he was desperately clinging to a man oblivious to his feelings.
The worst part was, he was so close to getting it.
With each passing embrace and whispers, it felt like he could finally grasp onto him, only to lose him the next second. Like holding wet sands in the palm of your hands, slowly drying before slipping through your fingers. How could he ever hold onto him, when prolonged touches made him frightened? When he could make out his handprints burning his skin through his clothes? He could still remember the sensation of two entitled hands sliding into his back pockets, as though they belonged here, yet feeling so wrong. He should like it, right? That was what he wanted, after all. Attention, affection, being wanted. Or was it?
He balled his fists, short but sharp nails digging into the skin of his palm. A helpless sob escaped his throat.
Each clumsy breath rocked him back and forth, as he tried to remember the respiration exercises he'd implemented with his therapist, back when he was a hollow shell, when his body had returned but his soul didn't feel quite right yet. His thoughts were fuzzy, he couldn't even remember what tricks he usually used to calm himself down. The only thing he could perceive was the burning on his skin and in his lungs.
His mind disconnected. It happened, sometimes, when his multifarious emotions became too intense to handle. It was like his body shut down completely, unable to handle the wave of thoughts that came crashing onto him. His brain was too crowded, and needed some time alone to get everything back in order, under control.
His eyes closed automatically. He didn't even feel the difference, first because the room wasn't lit up to begin with, but also because he was too out of it to care.
It's okay, he told himself, calming the quiet ire that threatened to settle in him.
Once he regained consciousness, he tried to rationalize the situation. He could work on his feelings—ignore them, as he always did—instead of blaming everything on others. He felt angry at himself, for not reacting more strongly, at Deku for acting selfishly, at the world for throwing them in this situation. But he needed to control that anger, instead of acting on it. He couldn't afford to go back to his old ways; the ones that had gotten him hated, threatened, feared, killed. People had sacrificed themselves to give him a second chance, and he would not waste it. Things would get better, if he tried hard enough.
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"What the fuck is that. Is this a joke?!"
Or maybe things could've gone better if Deku hadn't left a hickey the size of his fist on his neck.
Idiot as he was, he didn't even see it while executing his morning routine. He tended not to look at himself in the mirror—he even got them covered with a makeshift miniature curtain— and the verdet had left the room before he even woke. It was unusual for him, but Katsuki hadn't questioned it. They used to be inseparable, maybe a few months ago he would've searched the dorms from top to bottom frantically, panicking to have his other half out of sight. Now, he could only exhale a neurasthenic sigh and wonder if he'd snuck out of bed to meet his lover. Too exhausted to care beyond his initial hurt, he'd gotten ready without thinking too much of what happened the night before.
He should have.
"It's not what it looks like, I promise!" Deku tried to explain, waving frantically his hands in the air. "I can totally explain what happened!"
Katsuki scoffed at the stereotypical telenovela-like reply. Thank god the hallway was empty. Still, with the ruckus Ochako was making, it wouldn't be surprising if the whole school came to check on them. The seed of anxiety that had taken root in him and seemed to grow each time the younger boy acted like a lover towards him, started to blossom into a cold rage instead, fueled by his panic attack from the night before.
"What happened, then?" he barked a mirthless laugh. "I would like some explanations too."
Izuku physically took a step back, stunned by his intervention.
"I know you two have a special bond. I know you need each other," the brunette started, voice wobbly. "But this is going way too far! I tried to respect your boundaries, but what good is it if you don't respect mine?"
"Why are you both making a big deal out of it?! Kacchan and I have been acting this way for months! It's nothing!"
Nothing?
"You know what? Fuck you!"
The dam broke. The sea of emotions he'd bottled up the past few weeks came crashing down in a wave of saltiness, freeing his contained thoughts; eroding his skin in tiny rivulets.
"Nothing?! You don't get to grope me all the fucking time, ditch me to act all lovey-dovey with your girlfriend, and say it's 'nothing' when I look like I got fucking mauled by a bear!"
"Why does it matter so much to you? Obviously, what happens between you and me doesn't hold the same meaning as me and Uraraka-san's relationship," he raised his voice, his tone indicating he genuinely did not see what the issue was..
"Why? Why is it different?!"
"Because I'm not gay!"
"Well I am!" he shouted back.
His throat closed in on itself abruptly, suffocating him. It was the first time he'd ever said it out loud. It didn't really matter to him, he had never wanted to make a big deal out of it, but he still would have never imagined the confession would go this way. No one answered. Round Cheeks looked at him with a sad, understanding expression. Katsuki averted his eyes; he didn't want her pity. Still, he continued, fist bumping against his chest, as if it could ease the burn of his lungs:
"I am, and I hate that you're not, and I hate that you act as if all of this means nothing to you because it does to me! It means so much and you just," he choked, "you just don't care at all!"
Deku looked as though he'd been slapped. Face turned scarlet and eyes glassy, his hands gripped his hair as his respiration became hectic, short and loud gasps. Ochako looked as if she was lost, torn between the two, not knowing what to do or who to help. Finally, she decided to take a step toward her boyfriend, who promptly crumbled against her. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, gaze piercing Katsuki's soul.
"I'm sorry, Kacchan. I do. I do care. I love you, but… I'm sorry. I can't love you the way you would want me to."
He thought back to the first moment he confessed, a year ago.
"I love you"; "I love you too, silly".
He'd been naive to think this could ever work. Dejected, he straightened up, willing his body to untense by clenching and unclenching his fists. Tears prickled at his eyes, and he didn't fight them.
"I didn't expect you to, anyway."
Burying his hands in his pockets, he headed to class, although it was way too early for anyone to be in the room yet. Good. He needed some time alone, not only to process what just happened, but to reflect back on the past months. He'd wasted too much time in a lost cause, yet couldn't help but feel hurt. He had enjoyed this time of being close to his twin star. He'd grown, he'd changed, he'd cried. Still cried. Plopping down in his seat, he buried his head in the crook of his arms, forehead resting against the desk.
He could feel sorry for himself a little while. Only one week to go. One week where he could weep and sulk and shout and trash his room as he wanted. After that, he would move on.